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rosiesareblu · 3 months ago

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Literally swinging my feet in the air, giggling like a lovesick fool

IRL Plug and Play || Poly!141 x Fem!Reader

Summary: Third part of my Search History series (based on Penelope Garcia from Criminal minds) , the dinner party. The culmination of a month of knowing the boy's browser histories. Not much of a summary, it's pretty much dirty from start to finish.

18+ NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Warning: Fem pronouns and genitals, alcohol consumption, alcohol used during sex, porn, emulating porn, group sex, unprotected sex, tagging dub con just to be on the safe side but not really if you read the other parts you get it, Oral (M & F recieiving), fingering, penetration (F receiving) , allusions to penetration (male recieving), inappropriate use of cigar ashes. Genuinely this is just me being gross about these men for almost 12,000 words, proceed with caution. Say it with me one more time- irl this would be workplace harassment and NOT sexy. However, these are fictional war criminals who ARE sexy so we’re forgiving it.

Original Idea First Prev My Masterlist

made a lil header for the first time these are the vibes of reader and 141 :) (not Penelope's psychical description just her vibes)

pssst see how they're all on their mics in the pics?? its cuz your the voice in their ears :)

When you pulled into a parking spot on John Price’s street thirty minutes early, you automatically feel squirmy and a little foolish. Foolish because you’d convinced yourself that you were reading too much into things. So much so, that, somehow, the boys seeking out your porn twin had circled back around to you feeling like the unprofessional one. Squirming because you’d found the video they’d all watched more than once (more than three times) in the last days of their assignment. Barrack’s Bunny Get’s Gang Banged!

(Of course it was a military inspired orgy video, with four men and one woman that looked almost identical to you. Because, JFC, why wouldn’t it be? Was this actress in on the torment? Was she taking requests or was this some sort of cosmic joke where the punchline was your own sexual frustration?)

Ok, how the hell were you not supposed to read into that?

You hadn’t been able to watch it all the way through yet, having to pause and take breaks to calm yourself down. The thumbnail alone of your doppelgänger with four sets of hands and… other extremities... was enough to tempt you put your car back in drive and go back home. Because you weren’t sure you could look any of them in the eyes, and also for the third time in the last hour, you were second guessing your outfit.

Because what the hell does one wear to the porn-party with their boss and superiors? (Ok, maybe you should start by stop calling it the ‘porn-party’, because outside of your own finding in their browser histories, they’d yet to mention any actual porn to you in real life, but what else were you supposed to call this?)

After leaving work, you’d spent a long time debating if you needed to change and, if so, into what, and would it be delusional to put on a matching set? Johnny did say he liked seeing something soft… And were your work clothes too stiff? Was the skirt too presumptuous after that video Kyle liked titled Easy Access ? And was it just you or did your work blouse look slightly too much like the one from the office-scene Price had bookmarked? And why the hell was this all you could think about? Strewing your clothes around your bedroom like a teenager before a party, different combinations and options littering your bed and dresser until you got frustrated with yourself and your closet. With a what the hell moment of ambivalence, you’d settled on something comfortable, but switched into a lacy bralette, lying to yourself that it was more comfortable than the one you’d worn to work, and if the lacy strap happened to coquettishly accent your shoulder when your sweater sleeve slipped down your arm? Well, if it wasn’t a Porn Party, then no one would notice, and if it was, well it’d be sure to draw some appreciative eyes.

Your car was still cranked as you sat slightly down the block from Price’s house in your casual sweater and hidden matching set, anxiously killing time by alternating between tik tok, instagram, tumblr, and oh yes, the Barracks Bunny Gets Gang Banged video that you’d been working through thirty seconds at a time because any longer had your overheating and threatening to leave a snail trail on your upholstery. So enthralled and flustered, you’d barely thought of the fact you were quietly playing porn over your car’s bluetooth system, you’d made it to the official halfway mark, and each time you’d switched out to a different app, the ‘break’ was short lived as you went back for more, one hand white knuckling your steering wheel as if this was a particularly good movie with a plot twist you just couldn’t miss.

So enthralled, that a sudden knocking on your window startled you so bad that you half-tossed-half-dropped your phone with a sound that could only be described as a ’squawk’ as you slammed the mute button to your car’s stereo. It was as you were turning towards the knocker, that you realized you could 100% catch a public indecency charge for this, and somehow were still only half relieved to find Johnny leaning slightly down so he could meet your gaze through your driver-side window. He had his raincoat on, and a lit cigarette pinched between his thumb and pointer as he looked in on you with a cheeky smile and raised brows. When you just stared up at him like a deer in headlights, mentally trying to figure out just how long he’d been there and if from that angle he could’ve seen your screen and how good was the sound proofing on your car…. As you ran those mental calculations, Johnny simply knocked again and this time added a downwards motion with his cigarette, requesting you to roll down the window.

You’d never noticed how slow your windows descended as the two of you held eye contact (awkward on your side, delighted on his), until there was no longer a pane of glass between you. The cool, damp night breeze carried the scent of tobacco and some kind of Old Spice fragrance into your little car as you looked up at the Scotsman. He seem amused, but happy to see you, "Coming?"

Your brain short circuited for a moment. Were you… cumming? You stared at him wide eyed, convinced you’d misheard him.

"What?" Was all you managed to respond with, your brain still trying to scrub filthy, lewd images from between its lobes, like a community service volunteer cleaning graffiti off subway walls. Johnny’s eyebrows only raised higher with his signature, Can’t wait to tell Ghost about this look, as he took another deep puff of his cig.

"Are ye coming inside, hen?" He clarified slowly with that shit eating grin after blowing his smoke away form you- what a gentleman, "Or are’ye planning to sit out here all night?"

"Oh, right." You mumbled, resisting the urge to scrub your hands across your face to physically redirect your thoughts. Instead, you nodded and started gathering your things, "Yeah, yeah, I��m coming inside."

"Good, Si was getting impatient." Johnny grinned, stepping back so you could open your car door after you fished your phone from the passenger floorboards and cut the engine. Si? You hadn’t head that nickname for Ghost before, hell, you still excusively called him Ghost to his face, because you’d not received permission for anything else. Simon was personal, Si… was intimate... He watched you expectantly, snapping you out of your thoughts, and when you only responded in silent confusion, he reached inside the still open vehicle and tapped the buttons, "Window, bonnie, s'raining."

Cheeks heating in mild embarrassment, you quickly cut the battery back on so you roll up the window and then get out. You’d always been a little scatter-brained, prone to being in your own little world, but this was getting excessive. Maybe all the porn really was melting your brain… With the windows up and double checking the car was off, you finally got out of the car. Johnny immediately took the plate of brownies out of your hand in the guise of gentlemanly conduct, but actually snuck one from under the plastic wrap before you could scold him.

"Why so grim? Y’look like yer marching off to war." Johnny seemed pretty pleased with his own little joke, his free arm resting in the small of your back to guide you up Price’s porch step and into the house like you might run off down the street without his guidance. You were considering it anyways.

"I don’t look grim." You shot him a look but didn’t shake off his arm, nor could you prevent the smile that was fighting at the corners of your mouth, snatching the brownies back from him before he could snag another, happy to have something to fidget with as you smoothed the plastic wrap back into place.

"No, you most definitely do not." And there was the other sergeant, Kyle, holding the door open for the two of you. Smiling as charmingly as ever, Kyle was already taking the dish out of your hands only to hand the dessert back to Johnny to carry off somewhere else. Then, he was on you, "Glad you could make it, love. Don’t listen to Soap, you look beautiful.” “Hey! Dinnae say she couldn’t be grim and beautiful.” Soap called back, already on his way deeper into the house.

"Such a shameless flirt." You scoffed just loud enough to drown out Johnny with your own teasing smile, a more usual routine amongst all the overthinking you’d been doing, as Gaz helped you out of your coat. Maybe you were imagining the sensuality, but you were not imagining how his touch lingered, and how his fingers grazed the fabric of your sweater as it was exposed. Hell, he was basically unwrapping your raincoat like it was the gift wrap on a present, "Don’t look half bad yourself, though."

All the boys looked good in their civilian clothes, hell they’d all look good in anything (or nothing… Focus. Focus.). But Kyle? In his stylish and tailored clothes? He always looked he’d walked off a J. Crew magazine cover when he wasn’t on base. His burgundy sweater looked like something you wanted to rub your cheek against, soft and warm and it fit him like a glove. Gaz grinned at your little praise, not speeding up his maddeningly slow pace of peeling off your raincoat and adjusting your hair for you afterwards, which distracted you just enough that you didn’t notice the others watching his little show. One of his lingering fingers seemed to all together abandon it’s mission, instead tracing the arced lace strap of your (meticulously chosen) lace bralette strap that had fallen off your shoulder. You watched Kyle’s finger follow the flowery lace pattern for a moment before fixing back on your shoulder with an audible snap! that made you jump a little from the sting.

This time you did see Johnny’s amused grin and slightly devious eyes as your own went wide and you let out a little yelp, snapping your eyes over your soldier at the sergeant. Gaz was quick to soothe the ouch, humming at you before you could get disgruntled while his warm palm cupped the curve of your shoulder and rubbed the slightly stinging skin softly. And if you were still reading into things (you were) you could swear it was just for him to have a reason to touch you more.

"Sorry, love, had to fix it, was bothering me." Was the only explanation offered for his actions. Once your jacket was off, Gaz hung it on the foyer hooks, it looking comically small and feminine between all four of theirs. You knew your brain was melted from all the porn when the visual immediately reminded you of the stupid video’s thumbnail picuture… the pretty, feminine actress with four huge actors surrounding her… Fortunately, Kyle tugging you further into the house pulled you out of your dirty-thought spiral.

In the kitchen, John Price was waiting, marinating a platter of steaks. You couldn’t help the amused quirk of a smile at seeing the apron tied over his civilian clothes, an unlit cigar in the chest pocket for easy access. The captain smiled first to Gaz with an approving nod, and then to you with a teasing smirk, "Thought you’d sit out in your car all night."

"I’m early." You defended yourself, cheeks now must be permanently stained into a flush with how easily they managed to fluster you. Gaz parked himself right beside you, leaning on the counter but standing so close that his shoulder was slotted slightly behind you, half his chest pressed to your back, distractingly proving your early guess that his sweater was, in fact, very soft. It took the steam out of your vehement defense, "You said, eight. It’s 7:50."

"Yeah, but you’ve been sitting out there since 7:30, love." Kyle chided. You wondered if it was the whiskey he was sipping that gave him the courage to puncuate his teasings with a slight pinch to your hip that made you squirm. His closeness kept you from slipping away as he shifted his attention to his captain, that easy going smile still on his face, "She brought brownies."

"I know. Johnny’s already had two." Price smiled, slathering another steak with marinade and massaging it into the meat with tender but deliberate ministrations of his long fingers that, for a moment, made you jealous of a dead slab of beef. His eyes caught yours staring at his hands, chuckling as he cleared his throat, "We had something else in mind for dessert. Very sweet of you though."

Something Price said made Kyle chuckle like it was some kind of inside joke, his fingers still on your hip, tracing little circles that were almost as distracting as… whatever the hell it was that Price was doing to the steaks.

"Now, go off and relax. I’m about to cut onions and we don’t want to mess up that pretty make up." Price ordered, shooing you off towards his stocked bar cart, before adding quietly enough you thought you might have hallucinated it, "Not yet, anyways."

Later, after you’d been supplied a drink and deposited on the couch with Ghost to watch what you were pretty sure was a rugby match (you were a little distracted by his warm arm draped over your shoulder, fingers tracing the same floral lace Gaz had).

"Gonna have to make some more room, love." Kyle grinned, looking down at you, holding his drink in one hand and one of your brownies in the other. You looked around yourself, already sandwhiched between the armrest of the sofa and Ghost who hadn’t closed his legs even a fraction when Johnny’d led you to the couch originally. Wasn’t much room to make room with.

"Oh, I can just-" you started, standing carefully as to not spill the drink Kyle had made for you. Before you could step away to claim the plush arm chair by the mantle (a safe distance from Simon’s thigh against yours and Kyle’s lingering touches), a strong arm wrapped around your middle and tugged you right back down. Instead of your original seat, however, it was Ghost who had pulled you side saddle into his lap, his other hand steadying the drink in yours. Gaz chuckled, taking the spot you had been sitting in, both men unbothered by your startled yelp.

Despite the fact that Simon had forecully and silently pulled you onto his lap, when you gave him a bewildered look, he seemed not to even notice the fact you were sitting on him, his amber eyes focused on the fame playing even as his finger’s kneaded distracting little circles into the plushest part of your waist, his arm still wrapped around you like you might try and escape. And when you just blinked at him, his only offering was, "Tha’s Price’s chair."

"Ye look comfy." Soap chided as he came around the corner with a beer and a lo-ball glass of some sort of whiskey, beer for himself and the (presumably) bourbon was given to Simon, both however, were offered to Simon, "Crack that for me, Si?"

You watched, wide eyed and enamored, as he lifted his mask over his nose and used his teeth to crack the bottle open before taking a long swig and then handing it back to Johnny in exchange for the whiskey. You had a front row seat to the bob of his Adam’s apple, and the way a scar split the top corner of his lip vertically (you wondered if you would feel the scar if he was kissing you, focus, damnit, focus). Soap noticed your expression and the blush in your cheeks with a twinkle in his eyes, " ’s not nice to stare, bonnie."

You stared a moment longer before forefully shaking yourself out of the stupor and taking a swig of your own drink, thankfully ice cold. The momentary pause allowed you to dip back into your usual well of sarcastic wit, offering the Scot a raised eyebrow, "You’re just jealous I’m not staring at you."

Johnny only shrugged, stretching his arms across the back of the sofa, making his broad chest only seem broader, his grin showing just enough teeth to appear wolfish as his thigh pressed into Ghost’s and therefore the round of your ass, "Aye, maybe I am."

"Ignore him, he’s been watching too much…" Simon started swirling then sipping his bourbon before tugging his mask down again afterwards. You knew the answer to his trail off and your internal body temp went up five degrees, alarm bells ringing in your brain. Johnny elbowed the taller man, so Simon only shrugged and finished lamely with, "stuff."

Porn. He’s been watching a lot of porn. You all have. I know that. You know that. We all know that. You brain chanting in time with those stupid circles he was rubbing on your hip as Johnny took the liberty of adjusting the hair off your shoulder, his voice a challenging chide, "What’s that look for, bonnie? What’d you think he was gonna say?"

Your mouth opened, and then closed, and you were saved from answering by Price coming into the living room, declaring the steaks were marinating so they had a while to just hang out. He gave Kyle a shoulder squeeze in passing, and offered you a warm smile before settling in his chair by the mantle. The chair you’d tried to escape to earlier.

For a get-together planned around watching the game, it occurred to you that not a single eye was on the TV at the moment. Instead, you realized they were all on… you. Price in his chair, smoothing his beard. Simon still had you on his lap, amber eyes carefully scrutinizing your expression as you flicked your eyes over to Gaz, who was watching you- or rather the rise and fall of your chest as he pulled your legs into his lap- with a slightly cocked head, a small smile on his lips. And finally, Johnny, who’d not stopped fidgeting with your hair and the neckline of your sweater.

Once again, you were uncharacteristically at a loss for words, squirming a bit on Simon’s lap as you tried to figure out what to say or if to say anything at all, because all that was coming to mind right now were two options. Are y’all trying to fuck me? and How’s the weather?. Both options made you want to crawl in a hole and stay there.

"You’re quiet tonight, sweet, something on your mind?" Price raised his eyebrows, still smirking, knuckles tapping against the armrest, "Something you wanted to tell the boys, right? What we talked about in my office?"

How were you supposed to broach the topic of their internet history, essentially admit to knowing about your XXX twin, while sitting on your superior's lap, having your hair played with, and your calves massaged through your leggings…

"No, no. Just… enjoying my drink." You muttered, draining the rest of the beverage before leaning over to place the empty glass on the side table, which was a mistake because it just had you practically sprawled over the three men on the couch, "What game are we supposed to be watching tonight?"

"Never mind that, hen." Johnny shrugged, clicking the TV off before tossing the remote to Price, "We’ve been into a… different form of entertainment lately."

Yeah. I know. The problem is that I know. You thought to yourself, now not even able to pretend to watch the screen, forced to focus on all the hands and eyes on you.

"Let’s stop dancing around it." Simon gruffed, resting his head against the back of the couch, his fingers trailing from your hip to the top of your thigh, "She’s not daft."

"Lieutenant Riley, always the subtle one." Gaz rolled his eyes before sliding his eyes over to Price who gave him an affirmative nod, not unlike they would do in the field, and then his eyes were back on you, "So, we know you aren’t blind, love, sure you noticed something going on here."

You weren’t sure if he was talking about what you’d dubbed the porn party or if he was just talking about the general bond between the men that went deeper than just elite squad, so you just nodded, hoping he would proceed with some more context clues… any keep rubbing his thumbs around your calf. It was not helping you focus. Kyle just grinned, his hands gently roaming up your shins to your knees and then back down, "Well, we’ve noticed something, too, love. You."

"Me?" You parroted, half sincere half forced faux shock, that sent you further back into Johnny’s chest, the Scot who was still fiddling with your hair had also pressed his nose into the crown of your hair to smell whatever products you used. "Don’t sound so surprised, bonnie." He murmured into your hair before leaning past you to Simon, planting an open-mouthed,

wet kiss against the larger man’s mask right beside your own face. Your mouth dried out despite just finishing your drink, tongue seeming too big for your mouth, eyes flicking rapidly between them and Gaz. You were beyond flustered, your stomach twisting in a both nerve wracking and enticing way. You didn’t know where to look, or if you should look, or look away. You didn’t want to look away, seeing Soap’s tongue find Simon’s mouth even through the cotton. Did they want the illusion of privacy and if so, how were you supposed to give them that when Simon was half groping you at the same time Johnny was lapping at his tongue

through the balaclava? Johnny slid his eyes to you, barely breaking from Ghost, "S’alright, hen, don’t mind you watching us. After all, s’only fair."

Your eyes widened, owlishly turning to Gaz though Simon kept you from slipping off his lap. Was that them telling you that they knew you knew? Was this some confession about finding your doppelgänger and watching enough of her content to pay off her car? He rolled his eyes at the other sergeant, his easy going smile returning when his eyes came back to you.

"They’re so impatient." He chuckled with a what can you do shrug, as if they’d simply skipped to dessert (innuendo intended) instead of started sloppily making out with you in their lap. He quit massaging at your calves, instead using his middle and pointer fingers to trace patterns (you could swear it was a mimic of the lace pattern he’d traced earlier). Your eyes flicked over to Price, who was still just watching, leaned back in his chair, jutting his chin back to Gaz as if telling you to pay attention. Sheepishly, you turned back to Kyle, "So, we’ve… discovered this person online, and she looks… so much like you. Genuinely, love, it’s uncanny. And there’s this video she made that really caught our attention-"

"She knows the one." "Aye, She’s seen it."

Both Price and Johnny answered at the same time. Price, because you’d brought up the issue to him in his office. And Johnny… had apparently been standing outside your car longer than you thought and could see your screen. Your cheeks had to be glowing by now. Kyle’s smile just grew, flashing perfect white teeth at you as he leaned in closer, "Perfect, then we can skip that explanation. But once we saw it… well, it kind of got under our skin. You’ve gotten under our skin, love."

Johnny and Simon hadn’t stopped though they had shifted and suddenly there lips were back and forth on each other, and also over your neck and shoulders as you tried fervently to keep your eyes on Gaz as he leaned closer, pulling the sleeve of your sweater off your shoulder to expose that lace strap again, "And, judging by how you’ve been acting lately, we’ve gotten under yours too."

"Yeah. Yeah. That’s one way to put it." You admitted in a released breath, eyes flicked down to Simon who’d been kissing and sucking right at the curve of your shoulder for several long seconds, like if he wasn’t already under your skin, he’d supplant himself there personally. Johnny wasn’t going under your clothes, but his hands were tracing the line of your spine, finding the waistband of your leggings, nosing into your hair so he could kiss the shell of your ear. All while Kyle just kept that pretty grin on you, somehow putting you at ease and twisting your nerves even more.

"And, truthfully, we could sit here talking about it all night, Or…" And Kyle Garrick, with that unfairly, stupidly charming smile of his, made a veritable orgy sound as commonplace and sensible as going to the pub afterwork, and you found yourself dumbly nodding along to his easy words before you anxieties, logical and/or otherwise, could convince you that group sex with your coworkers was probably not the most professional way to spend a Friday night. But, damn, the sparkle in those pretty hazel-brown eyes was doing a good job of easing any worries that charming smile had missed…

Price finally spoke up again, but stayed in his chair, "You're nodding, sweet, but we gotta hear it. Out loud. Do you want this?"

When you looked over again, John Price was looking wholly the Captain he was. If you thought he was making a point to manspread in his office earlier in the day, now… Now he was just showing off. He looked like he was posing on a throne, legs spread, elbows resting on the arms of the chair as he settled in, watching the three soldiers and you on the couch. Seemingly completely nonplussed by his subordinate employees’ heavy petting on his couch.

Your internal reflection was swift. You were already getting felt up. If going into the office was going to be awkward on Monday, it was going to be awkward regardless of whether or not you cut it off at groping. You might as well let them relieve the nagging itch in the back of your mind while you were at it. So after another dumb nod, you found your voice again, "Yes. Yes. I want it. Please."

"So polite." Johnny murmured, taking you verbal confirmation as permission to slip his hands underneath your clothes, mapping your bare skin, "And you’ll say something if it’s too much?"

"Yeah, yeah." You nodded fervently, turning your head to try and catch one of their lips, the sweater had been stifling for the past hour, but now it was itching at your feverish skin. Johnny just smiled, helping you out of the thing.

"Good girl." Simon nodded before his amber eyes lit up a bit, "Well, would you look at tha’."

His fingers dipped under the lacy band of the bralette you were wearing. Johnny had already run his hands over the fabric while Kyle just whistled lowly. Price was the one who spoke up about it, "Did you put that on just for us, sweet?"

"Just in… just in case." You nodded in a breath, leaning back into Johnny as he started rolling your leggings down, exposing the complimentary lace waistband of your panties. Another round of appreciative comments and touches, Simon’s teeth nipping at the curve of your neck again.

"Too good to us, love." Gaz shook his head, helping his fellow sergeant get your leggings all the way off and tossing them somewhere out of sight, pressing kisses to the top of your thighs, then your knees, and finally one too the inside of your ankle. " So you suspected all along. How’d you see the video?"

"Go on, sweet, fill him in." Price prompted with that stupid little smirk, the one that tugged the corners of his beard up. The one that made you want to get on your knees and do anything to earn one of those approving nods.

"I-I can see the websites y’all visit." You admitted breathlessly, watching as Kyle kissed his way back up your legs, how those eyes never broke contact with yours, "I have to clear them for security purposes. I’ve.. I’ve seen all the videos y’all’ve been sharing with each other." “

All of them. So

that’s why you’ve been so quiet, bonnie?" Johnny hummed, a smile pressed into the base of your neck, watching Simon nip at your neck, teeth digging in harder every time, making you whimper which seemed to only egg Ghost on.

"Flattered or offended?" Kyle asked, but his smile told you he already knew the answer. Because, with you sprawled over the laps of three men, if you were offended you had a funny way of showing it.

"I should’ve been." You gulped after breaking off Johnny’s lips for a moment, adding on, "Offended."

"But you’re not?" Price prompted, head cocking to the side as he fiddled with lighting his cigar.

No. For better or for worse, this roundabout workplace harassment approach had really worked on you. So you just shook your head, opening your mouth as Simon pulled his mask up and caught your lips, tongue domineering itself into your mouth almost instantly.

"So cooperative, nice change of pace." One of them hummed, but you couldn’t place it, too focussed on the fingers kneading at your inner thighs, slowly working your legs open into a spread so your knee’s were hooked over each side of Simon’s wide spread legs, which exposed the dampened gusset of the deliberately chosen panties.

"All right, deal’s a deal, Garrick," Simon all but growled into your mouth, your eyes fluttering open to see his amber eyes watching Kyle who was smirking like he’d just gotten away with something, "You get first taste. Warm ‘er up for us."

Oh. Oh. Just diving right in. Though Gaz was ever the gentleman, charming through and through.

"May I?" He asked softly, waiting with his fingers hooked in the lacy waistband as he sunk to his knees in front of you. Your breath picked up just from the sight, and it was only Simon holding you to him that kept you from leaning down and catching a kiss from Kyle as well. Since that wasn't an option, you jerked your head in a clumsy nod, punctuating with the cant of your hips towards him that just made him chuckle as your panties were discarded towards the same direction as your pants.

"Please." You whined, the tone making all of the men snap their eyes up to you, the expressions all reading make her do it again. You didn’t even have time to adjust to the cold air on your exposed bits before Gaz’s hot mouth was covering the sensitive flesh, drawing a gasp as you threw yourself back into Simon’s chest. Ghost only hooked his chin over your shoulder, lazily watching as Gaz licked a flat stripe, first dipping into your entrance, teasing a bit as deep as he could get. Your clit got a little attention from his nose bumping it, make you breathe sharp breaths with little clipped moans. But when he withdrew and traced his tongue back up, finding your clit and slipping under the hood, your attempts at demure noises were nixed by a sudden and echoing moan.

"That good? Yeah, Gaz’s pretty skilled with ‘is tongue." Johnny nodded, nuzzling at your other shoulder as he watched on too, palming himself through his jeans, "Meticulous thing he is."

"How’s she taste, sergeant?" Price asked, adjusting himself as well. Kyle surfaced for only a moment, replacing his tongue with his fingers when you whined in disappointment.

"Better than the bloody brownies, that’s for certain." He hummed, his corners of his mouth glistening, eyes flicking up to you as he rested a cheek against the inside of your thigh. You tried to be offended at the diss to your baking skills, but as Kyle dove back in, a skillful swirl and lewd slurp killed any smart comment on your tongue, or rather on his. You weren’t sure if it was even possible to actually decipher, but you were certain he was spelling barrack’s bunny over your clit with his tongue, letter by unraveling letter. All four men seemed to delight in how your breathing sped up, how your head seemed so heavy to hold up that it flopped backwards into Simon’s shoulder. Kyle tolerated your hips rolling twice, but his chivalry ended the third time, reaching up and placing Simon’s hand at your waist to hold you still for him, while his hands kept your thighs from closing around his head. The message was clear. Anything you were getting would come from him and only him. You recalled how so many of his preferred videos revolved around control, pleasure dom, a term you had had to google. All you could do was stare down between your legs and watch him devour you.

"If she tastes half as good as she looks…" Johnny trailed off, catching the corner of your mouth for a short kiss, his fingers tracing the lace pattern right over your perked nipples, at least Simon was lenient enough to let you arch your chest into the touch, "Right treat you are, hen."

Your first climax was a quick thing, a full body clench and vulgar moan clawing its way out of your throat, your thighs trembling around Kyle as he licked and slurped his way through your high, collected anything you put out for him. His movements only slowing when your body relaxed back against Ghost. He gave your pussy a comedically sweet kiss before sitting up, and it was only then that he pulled you down to him for your first real kiss from him. It was tender and sweet, with the appropriate amount of tongue, almost the kind of kiss you’d give on a really good first date, if it wasn’t for the fact you could taste your essence on him, your cum making his lips slippery against yours.

"Called dibs on that weeks ago." He grinned, breaking the kiss to watch his fingers to dip between your legs, collect some more of your wetness and pop it in his mouth, eyes closing like he was savoring a fine wine. You watched him with mouth agape and eyes half lidded, "Alright then, Tav, surprised you held yourself back this long, go on then."

Johnny’s smile was all teeth as he descended upon you, kissing any of your slick off your mouth that Kyle’d left behind like he was getting a sneak preview. Though, for someone so often ridiculed for being impatient, he was anal about this kiss. Making sure to try every angle of his mouth against yours, then repeating his tests with tongue, and then once more splitting your attention with Simon. Ghost played along for a while, letting his sergeant explore your lips and your chest before he nodded down to the floor when Kyle’d been.

"Keep yourself busy, Johnny." Was the clipped order, as he took over kissing you, one large hand splayed along your face to keep you drawn to him, as if you might try to get away. He had nothing to worry about, the whiplash of switching partners and desires had you craving attention anywhere you could find it. You were already putty on his lap with Johnny taking over Kyle’s place between you legs. While it was still overwhelmingly pleasurable, his actions were more sloppy than Kyle’s. His strategy was to barrage your nerves as opposed to Kyle’s precision attacks. It still had you whining and squirming, which was enough to short circuit your focus. Johnny didn’t seem to mind you instinctively grinding into his face, in fact it only seemed to encourage him. Simon’s job was to keep you from melting off his lap, which he did while his kisses became harder and harder, sometimes biting at your bottom lip, "Now you just taste like his shitty beer, you’ll lemme fix that, won’t you, lovie?"

When you nodded, he smiled, tugging the balaclava all the way off. You didn’t even have time to properly admire how handsome he was under the thing, didn’t have time to pepper those scars with kisses or wax poetic about how all his unconventional features played together harmoniously to make him exceedingly handsome. Before you could do any of that, he’d taken a sip of his bourbon, swallowing as he watched you watch him.

"Open." He directed, nodding when you obediently dropped your mouth open. He tipped your head back at the same time as he took a longer draw of his bourbon, holding it in his mouth for a moment before pulling your lips up to his and kissing the liquor straight onto your tongue, burning off anything and anyone else. When he’d given you every last drop, he pulled back and manually shut your mouth, "Go on and swallow for me, don’t waste it. ’s hard to get this stuff ‘round here."

Bourbon wasn’t often in your rotation for drinks, the taste smoky and sharp just like the man that had kissed it into your mouth, but one look into Simon’s eyes had you nodding again. As you forced yourself to swallow it, the burn going all the way into stomach, stoking the fires the men had started in you. After he watched your throat bob, he nodded approvingly.

"Good fuckin’ girl." He praised which made the burning sting worth it, catching your lips in another punishing kiss when you moaned from Johnny’s sloppy slurping. Simon hummed, finding that your mouth now tasted like his preferred pour, "Much better."

After kissing the taste of his bourbon off you, he pulled back for a moment just to watch you whine and grind against the sergeant between both sets of your legs. After a moment of appreciation for the garment against your skin, the bralette they’d all liked so much was roughly yanked down, the straps down your shoulders while the cups and band bunched up under your now exposed breasts. Johnny was watching from the floor, his big blue eyes crinkling and lips pulling into a smile against you, while Simon ran his hands over your bare chest, stopping to squeeze and pinch when he pleased. “Johnny-

Ghost-" You almost shrieked not sure who to call too or thank for the electric static in your nervous system, arching your chest up into his hands, and when the movement moved your hips away from Johnny, he just took your legs off Simon’s knees and hooked them over his shoulders, keeping you firmly in place, "

Shit."

"Language, sweet." Price teasingly scolded from his chair, still stroking his beard from his arm chair. Gaz and Simon just chuckled when you pouted through another throaty moan. Simon was nudging your cheek with his nose, skimming his teeth across you jawline between kisses that trailed fown your neck, sucking marks that would stay for weeks, always finding his way back to what seemed to be his favorite spot in the curve of your neck. “Should’ve seen the Sergeants when they first found that video, acting like they’d won the fuckin' lottery. Been wanting you for months but tha’ really sealed the deal, lovie, couldn’t even get through the first quarter before this one was panting and rutting. Like it was the first time they’d ever seen a dirty video. Ain’t that right, Johny?” It was the most you’d ever heard Simon talk in one go, every couple of words grunted and groaned out between kisses across any skin he could reach with you sitting back against him, breath hotly fanning along your neck as he went. And when he finished the thought, he reached down between your legs and fished the sergeant up by his mohawk, leaving both you and Johnny whine at the loss of contact. Simon just laughed coldly and gave Johnny a prompting jerk, much rougher than he’d been touching you, “You gonna answer us, Johnny?” “Aye. Aye. Knew I had to get ma’ hands on ye.” Was all he managed before diving in for another taste of you, surfacing briefly again to relay a message up to Simon, half moaned half growled,

"This cunt's like fucking silk, I’ll tell you, Lt.” Strong hands clenching into the plushest parts your thighs holding them around his face like he was

hoping he’d suffocate down there, "Ye gotta get in here, ain’t nothing like it."

"You want that, sweetheart?" Simon hummed, moving from your lips to your jaw and down your neck, "Want me in you?"

"Fuck. Yes, fuck me." You rambled which just made them chuckle at you as one of your hands when into Johnny’s mohawk and the other palmed at your breasts. Johnny moaned when you tugged at his hair, sending subtle vibrations up with his tongue that almost sent you undone again. Simon easily pushed you down his legs, still supporting you with one hand as Johnny kept going, and freeing his erection with the other. Gaz and Johnny had worked hard to warm you up, to break you in for them, but Simon’s dick threatened to break you, period. He was just as thick as John, but almost as long as Kyle, cut, veiny, with a pretty pink tip. Como se dice, how you say… hung like a fucking horse.

He must’ve seen your wide eyes, the subtle fear in your eyes that was chased away when Johnny drug his teeth over your clit with just enough pressure to make you choke on your own spit. Ghost reached down intermingling his fingers with your folds and Johnny’s tongue, "We’ll start easy. Just the tip, lovie. Johnny’ll handle the rest for now."

They did just that. He held his hand out to Johnny, letting the man on his knees spit into his palm and then rubbed it against his dick, before pulling you back against him once more. Before he even attempted any sort of penetration, he slid his erection through your folds a couple of times just to collect some more slick, "You are just like silk, Johnny was right."

He grunted into your neck with another few slippery passes before reaching down as easing the tip into you. He was thick, enough so that it stung a bit as you tried to adjust. Despite his soft voice and unusually soft eyes, Simon’s control slipped, rutting a bit before you were ready. At you uncomfortable whine, Johnny mirrored the sound in disapproval of your upset, immediately going to remedy the hurt with his tongue, servicing both you and Simon with a flat lick up Simon’s exposed length and then up to your clit to help you relax.

"Breathe for me, lovie." The Liutenant ordered, like he was trying to be gentle with you but his jaw was gritted, trying even harder not to snap his hips against yours and bully his too-big dick into your hole, "Try to relax for me."

You were panting, cheeks puffing with your breaths, not sure if Johnny’s tongue was helping or just tensing you up more, but God, it felt good and you weren’t going to be the one to tell him to stop. Not yet at least. You got another inch in, which earned a kiss to your neck.

" s’all I can take right now." You breathed, reaching back to support yourself against him.

"Better than I did on my first go, eh, LT?" Johnny grinned up before kissing up the length of Simon’s cock that wasn't inside of you, flicking his tongue over the stretched rim of your entrance that was still trying to clench around the sudden intrusion, "She’s tryin’ so hard."

By the look in his eyes, he wasn’t talking about you. The She in question was just your pussy. Simon nodded along, hissing curses into your hair.

"Alright, lovie, alright, no more for now." He gritted out, " ‘m gonna move now, just try and stay loose as you can for me."

Humming in agreement, you tried to let yourself be pliant against him, feeling his hips rock, the in and out of his movements pleasurable enough to draw out a keening moan despite the less than comfortable stretch. His lips were at your neck again as he continued his thrusts, slightly steadier, growing more confident. And then it was his teeth, nipping between sucks, though his words were still growled, "That’s it, doing so good for me, for us."

Your mistake was losing yourself in the feeling, letting your hips rock because it shattered what little control Ghost had at the moment. He sunk in another few inches, teetering between painful and pleasurable, making you cry out, nails digging into his forearms as a tear slipped down your cheek. The dig of your nails only urged him on, the nip of your teeth turning into a full bite, enough to break skin just slightly. However, the moment your cry was one of actual discomfort instead of pleasure, he withdrew completely, kissing over where he’d bitten, "Sorry, sorry, lovie, got too rough, too quick with you."

He slowly eased you off of him, nudging Johnny off as well, still kissing at the spot he’d bitten too harshly, fingers kneading comfort into your hips and then your thigh, "Y'alright? Need to stop?"

You took a breath, let the initial shock of the stretch and the bite fade away, let him swipe the rogue tear off your cheek, let your body readjust…. and then shook your head, signalling you wanted to keep going, pulling him by the back of the neck down to you again for a kiss. Johnny was still at your knees, massaging your thighs, watching Simon deepen the kiss as much as you’d let him, and then pushing a little further, his fingers flexing hard into you again making you wince just a little. Honestly, you could’ve endured that, hell with another couple of kisses, you could’ve enjoyed it. But this time, he cut himself off, pulling back with a slew of curses that’d send a sailor to confession.

"Fuck, ‘m sorry, sweetheart, I’ve never been good at taking it slow." Simon growled, jaw still clenched so hard you were afraid he’d crack a tooth., thumbs easing the irritated skin he’d clenched just slightly too hard, "You’re just too perfect, can’t keep my head on straight."

Ghost stopped to think for a moment, breathing hot and heaving against you skin, before flicking his eyes down to Soap who’d stopped massaging your thighs in favor of featherlight kisses where his stubble had chafed you. You’d seen this before, the internet called it cuteness aggression.

"Price." He called, nodding to his Captain, a signal to take over. John nodded, and after meeting your still lust glazed expression, ascertaining you were alright, seemed rather amused by the tag-in. It seemed, despite the civilian clothes and whatever intimacy was shared amongst the group, rank hierarchy was still firmly present, because when Captain Price finally rose from his arm chair, the sergeants and Lieutenant wordlessly moved out of his way, presenting you along the way for him as his belt buckle jingled being loosened and discarded.

Still, despite his evident imposition, his strength was gentle as he peeled you off his lieutenant who stood, manhandling Johnny off with him to the chair. Half dazed and panting, you were grateful for his patience as he asked with only a little teasing, "Can you stand for me, Sweet, just a little?"

And when your legs were still jelly and trembling, he just chuckled, leaking cigar smoke into your mussed hair, "That’s alright, Sweet, you just let me lay you out all pretty."

With that, you were bent over the arm of your boss’s sofa, callous hands traced slowly down your spine and then paused at your hips, massaging your flanks much as he had his cuts of steak. Price massaged his way from your hips, over and around your ass, and then worked from outwards to the inner most part of your thighs. Finally, he dragged a flat palm up your exposed sex, and when you looked over your shoulder, he was licking his tongue across that same hand, a deep rumbling growl shaking you to your core as you watched him taste not only you, but also notes of his boys, "Sweeter than fuckin’ sugar, love. Fuckin’ perfect."

You just stared at him with wide eyes, limply spread over the arm rest, hips instinctively pressing back into him to find more touch, more friction, more him. Words failed, only high pitched whines made it out. Which made Johnny, off to the side, chuckle.

"Think this is the longest I’ve ever seen her quiet." The scot chided, watching with great interest as Price took another swipe through your folds, coating his cock in whatever (whoever’s) bodily fluids he collected there.

"Maybe you should take some notes, mutt." Simon gruffed, taking a fistful of the sergeant’s Mohawk and tugging it rather harshly backwards, exposing Johnny’s throat that his teeth descended upon almost immediately. Some time between being between our legs and being in Simon’s lap, Johnny’s shirt had disappeared, his jeans still on but unbuckled and Simon was fishing his erection out.

"Ignore ‘em." Price chuckled down to you, physically redirecting your attention by giving your clit a bit of attention as he eased himself slowly in, all the way to his base, "Y’feel even better than you taste, sweet thing, y’know that?"

You didn’t know that, but you’d take the compliment, if you remembered it, or your own name by the end of… whatever this was. He gave one slow and steady thrust, almost like an experiment, one hand holding your hips in place, the other holding his cigar up to his lips.

"Dessert before dinner, how about that, lads?"

There was a moment of recall to his earlier words, "Already had something else in mind for dessert" echoed with what he just said in your fuzzy mind. You had been dessert all along, and judging by the ravenous eyes with varying degrees of satiation, the 141 intended to eat their fill, your online look-a-like was simply a taste test. A momentary taste of vindication on your tongue- you hadn’t been reading too far into things or fluffing your own ego, this was premeditated, and your matching set wasn’t presumptuous. Still, that only lasted a singular breath, the smug vindication was phsycially forced out of you with a rough snap of his hips, the first of many from the demanding, almost brutal, pace John set for himself.

"There’s a girl, you just take it for me," He grunted between thrusts, seemingly pleased with your little cries and moans, "Just like that, sweet, you’ll be taking Simon’s cock in no time."

John Price’s couch was not picked out with ‘being bent over the side’ in mind. Or perhaps, you were just a bit softer than the other’s that had had the pleasure of being bent over the arm like John had you at that moment. Taking mercy upon your ribs, or perhaps just for his own selfish purposes, Kyle slotted himself underneath your front and sat you up against his chest, throwing your arms over his shoulders. While John still had your hips over the couch arm, Gaz had pulled you chest up to his, his lips finding your lips, your cheek, jaw, and breasts as he went.

"Poor sweet thing" Kyle cooed, his perfect pearly teeth nipping at your ear while is chest steadied you against Price’s onslaught that pushed a thought our of your mind with each quick, but deep, thrust, "Didn’t know what you were walking into, did you? And now look at what a mess we made you?"

You couldn’t tell if Kyle was mocking you or praising you, kind words and little digs were both dipped in that sugary sweet tone that just made you nod up at him with wide eyes and a pouted lip. One of this thumbs reached up and swiped a mascara laden tear out from under your eye, the same thumb dipping into your mouth and holding it open in the pornographic O-shape after Price drew a vulgar moan out with a particularly deep thrust that also managed to scoot the sofa a couple of inches. Gaz didn’t even waver, just laughed a bit as he held you steady, "Mean, innit he?"

Another moan blocked the chance at a snappy reply, not that you had the current brain power to make one. The sergeant just took the chance to swallow your noises with his mouth over yours, kissing you and biting your bottom lip as he pulled away. With what little fortitude you had, you grabbed the collar of that soft sweater and hauled him right back up to your mouth. It was aggressive kissing. Tongue and teeth and nails, sloppy and dirty, your noses bumping together from the force of Price’s thrusting.

When Price adjusted your hips, it forced you onto your tip toes to maintain the angle. And while the new angle provided incentive and reward in the way of relentless pounding of that delicious spongy spot inside you, that fact only made it harder for your already shaking legs to support you.

"Hold her fast, Sergeant." Was the grunted order as he gave your ass a smack, like he was punishing you for the indiscretion of already having you legs fucked out from under your from the other men in his living room. Honestly, How dare you? Kyle took orders beautifully. The best multitasker on the squad, as he not only, held you at that perfect angle for his Captain, but also, trailed wet, hot kisses down to your chest, locking onto one of your nipples with devious precision, only sucking harder when you cried out.

" ‘m gonna cum-!" It was strangled and whined into Kyle’s shoulder still fisting the collar of his shirt while your other hand posed serious risk of shredding the upholstery.

"You gonna cum on me, sweet? Go ahead, but I’m not stopping." Price chuckled through his warning, leaning over your head and pulling Gaz in by the back of his neck for a sloppy kiss of his own.

"Go on then. Give it to him." Kule urged in that sickly sweet tone, "The captain’s working so hard back there for you, least you could do is let ‘im feel how pretty you fall apart."

Another moan, a garbled cry of both of their names mashed together when they pushed you over the edge in tandem with a well timed deep thrust and light smack to your clit from Price at the same time that Gaz tweaked both of your nipples..

"You feel that Cap? That flutter?" Gaz called, talking (literally) over your head as you sagged, twitching against him, unlatching from the hickey he was sucking into your collarbone, "That’s fuckin’ magic, that is."

"Flutter? She’s wringing me dry in there." Price groaned, his pace only slowed by the vice like grip your core had as your eyes rolled back, "Sweet’s cunt’s practically swallowing me, bloody hell, greedy thing, aren’t you?"

The only reprieve you had was Price leaning forward so his warm chest pressed to your back, his big hands circling your clit like it might encourage you loosen back up for him so he could resume his movements, "C’mon, love, you gonna answer me?"

"Yes…" You drawled, flopping your head over so you could meet his eyes over your shoulder, that signature mirthful smile twitching the corners of his beard of as he tweaked the little bundle of nerves to correct you. With a little cry, you answered once more, "Yes, sir."

"Atta girl." Price nodded approvingly as he took a long draw of his cigar his pinkie shaking off little bits of ash onto your raised posterior (which should’ve made you feel degraded, or maybe it did which is why it made your eyes flutter again), both at the answer and at the relaxing of your muscles allowing him to build his pace back up.

"Hear that, love?" Kyle’s attention returned down to you when your face dropped back down into the curve of his shoulder, "what a good pussy, taking us all so well, and she just keeps wanting more."

"More?" You croaked out through another moan, panting and trying to count the stars dotting your vision, not sure if you were requesting or parroting in disbelief. Though with a clearer mind, you wouldn’t have been so shocked. Price had barely stuttered in getting his rhythm back up to it’s pace, riding you all the way through your orgasm.

"Told you, ‘m not fucking stopping." Price growled with another smack to the round of your ass. Something between a moan and a cry crawled out of your throat, but tapping our hadn’t once occurred to you.

"You can take it, love, bet you can even give us another big finish, yeah?" Kyle encouraged. It occurred to you the Gaz had now coaxed you through two orgasms, and really hadn’t even asked for anything in return from you. And while you were sure, between the four of you, someone would throw him a bone(r), you decided to take that cross upon yourself, reaching down between him and yourself and wrapping around his dick. From what you could tell, he was on the leaner side, but he was the longest in the group, slightly curved. Which gave you plenty of room to rub and squeeze, from base to his tip where you thumbed the slit, spreading the precum back down as you followed the vein on the underside. Kyle tried to chuckle through a moan, "Bloody hell, love."

Jerking off took on a new meaning as your movements, meant to be languid and smooth, turned jerky and choppy with the force of Price’s increasing speed, his rythym stuttering as he chased his own release. Kyle leaned down using one of his free hands to roll a nipple in his fingers, catching the other in his mouth as you continued to pump him. Between the two of them, it didn’t take long to come close to the edge once more, and you didn’t even have time to be proud of bring both of them over with you in tandem as your third orgasm tore through you, leaving all three of you dazed and breathless. You were vaguely aware of Gaz’s cum on you chest, kind of feeling the warm, sticky trail it left as it leaked down your front while John gave a few more lazy strokes as he softened inside of you. Though Gaz twitched hard again just watching your eyes roll back, and when Price was finally done, he gave your thighs a gentle, almost proud squeeze, watching his spend leak out for a moment before gently collecting you upright once more. With a sweet forehead kiss that contrasted so heavily from the cigar ashes and ass slaps, he gave your cheek a little pat, "Still with me, sweet?"

"Mmmhm." You nodded, eyes only half opned as Gaz sat up behind you and sucked kisses across the back of your shoulders. You’d be wearing turtle necks for weeks. John’s attention shifted over to Simon, who you now realized had been watching the show with the darkest eyes you’d ever seen with poor Johnny taking the brunt of whatever storm Ghost had brewing. Your eyes fluttered watching the liutenant’s hand tighten around Johnny’s throat. Despite the tears on the Scot’s face, he didn’t appear to be too upset with his current predicament, in fact giving you a groan through a watery smile as Simon’s other hand tightened even more around Johnny’s leaking dick.

"Got it all out of your system, Lieutenant?" Price asked with a raised brow, both him and Gaz still keeping you upright with gently roaming hands. Simon gave both his hands another squeeze making Johnny pant.

"I’m solid." He nodded, surprisingly tender as he released Johnny, the sergeant stumbling off his lap. Simon rose behind him, both men approaching the couch. You weren’t positive what ‘it’ was or why it needed to be out of Simon’s system, but Gaz nodded and pressed one last sweet kiss to the curve of you shoulder before letting Simon slide into his place. The largest of the men simply laid down on the couch, taking up most of the three-seater, efficently pulling you backwards so you straddled his lap facing away from him.

"Nice and slow for me, lovie." Simon directed, lining himself up with your entrance after bumping your clit with his tip. Thank god for his strong hands guiding your hips down at the pace he set. Though Price had thoroughly broken you in, and you’d already partially taken Simon once, you still tensed up nervously but set your jaw with determination to do it again and get all of it from this new angle. With your back to his face, you had a front row set to the others watching hungrily. Kyle was leaning back against Price’s chest, the older man reaching around to palm the sergeant’s erection as Gaz pressed his back to Price’s front, grinding backwards. But Johnny, poor Johnny, with his cock almost purpled by Simon’s earlier teasing, rocking on his heels like he was just waiting for permission to join in, sapphire eyes bouncing between Simon’s face, your face, and the stretch of you pussy around Simon’s cock- like he couldn’t decide who was most jealous of.

Inch after deliciously painful inch, Simon helped you ease yourself down until your ass was flush with his hips. From this angle, though Simon could still rut up against you, the pace was all your decision, making it harder for him to lose control again. With your hands braced against his tree-trunk thighs. Simon gave you a minute to adjust, to pant and try to focus your eyes. The soldier underneath you grunted, fingers flexing on your waist as he adjusted himself making you whimper and almost fall forward.

"Si-" Johnny whined, his hands twitching forward like he wanted to help you, or maybe just touch you, his cock leaking down his leg. Simon’s voice was not as gentle to his sergeant, a gruff order.

"No’ yet." Before returning his attention to you, voice softening slightly, "Take your time, sweetheart, move when you want, I want you to feel good."

Giving a jerky nod, you gave an experimental wiggle that nestled him somehow even deeper. Your moan was lodged in your throat as your eyes shut, but the movement earned a deep groan and hiss from Simon. With a deep breath, you managed to move past the acclimation stage so the actual pleasure started building again, which felt like crossing the finish line of a marathon. Next, a roll of your hips that genuinely blurred out your vision, feeling so good that our body instinctively did it again to chase the feeling. And then again, and again- head falling forward and then rolling back.

"That’s it, lovie, find your rhythm." Simon tried to prain but it sounded more like a growl as his hands flexed again into the softest parts of your waist, his long fingers spanning so far that they kneaded into the plushness of your stomach, "Fuckin' hell."

"Si-" Johnny whined again, drawing the clipped nickname into two syllables, this time his twitching fingers finding purchase in the arm of the sofa you’d been bent over earlier. If you weren’t so focused on Simon’s cock rearranging your internal organs, you might’ve heard the ominous creak of the fabric under his strength. When your eyes fluttered open, they locked onto Johnny’s bright blues, darkened to a stormy hue with impatient want. His Scottish brogue thickening deeply, "Ah keened you’d be better than the lass in the fuckin’ videos, so fuckin’ sweet and pretty-"

"Alright." Simon gruffed before his voice softened down again, "Go on, sweetheart, show the mutt some love, won’t you? He won’t shut up until you do."

Even though the permission had been given to you, Johnny was immediately upon you. Much like Gaz, Johnny took up the job of supporting your upper body as Simon had your hips firmly in his grasp. With one knee pressed into the couch cushion, he hugged your chest to his, his hands groping and feel any part of you he could get his hands on like it was the first time he’d touched you or any other soft and pretty thing. Unlike Gaz, his mouth on your started out aggressive and when you would moan, he’d mirror the noises, groaning them right back onto your tongue.

"And soft. Ye sound better too." Johnny groaned when Simon suddenly rutted against your rocking, leaving you crying out and digging your nails into Johnny’s shoulders. With strong but surprisingly gentle grip, your fingers were removed from his shoulders. Johnny led one of your hands in an exploratory trail down his chest, following the path of thick, dark body hair, past his abs, until he wrapped your hand around his cock which twitched even at your slightest touch.

"So fucking soft, bonnie," he breathed, coaxing your hand into movement while kissing your other palm, before looking over to Simon, "Not a callous on her hands, Lt, dinnae even think about that."

Simon merely grunted in acknowledgement of Johnny’s discovery, seeing as his focus was an entirely different part of your anatomy. The larger man seemed content letting his sergeant be the vocal one, sometimes rewarding you with a hiss or a strangled groan. He’d given up on letting you control the pace now that you were acclimated and half bouncing against him, rutting and grinding against you in time with your own rolling and rocking as you sped up. It was only natural for your hand on Johnny’s cock to speed up as well.

"Sweetheart, why don’t you show him something even softer than your hands? He went through a lot for you, after all." He didn’t give you time to ask what that was supposed to mean, but you figured it had something to do the vicious series of bites and hickies on the man’s neck. You could tell Simon was moving because his cock was shifting angle inside of you, making you gasp. One of his large hands splayed against the small of your back, pressing you firmly forward and down. A sudden thrust as he applied pressure to your back made you go boneless, letting the men push your cheek first into Johnny’s stomach and then down to where your hand was still pumping Johnny’s cock.

"Look at that, a multitasker. ’s why she’s such a good analyst for us." Gaz chided from the sidelines like he was commentating on a sports match, watching as you were stroking Johnny, holding your cheek against him while trying to catch your breath from Simon’s thrusts. Johnny helped guide himself into your mouth. It wasn’t so much length as the girth, even thicker than Price, that stretched your jaw uncomfortably. But the way that Johnny moaned sinfully above you when your nose pressed into the dark curls at his base, the way he all but melted over you like butter, encouraged to breathe through your nose and keep going.

"Steaming Jesus, Si, I cannae last like this-" Johnny moaned, seemingly not even noticing how loud he was. Simon only laughed lowly, reaching around your thighs to dip between them, circling your clit. Your thighs were trembling, moans getting louder and less restrained, nothing about this was restrained anymore.

"That’s alright, Johnny, neither will she, will you, lovie?" He asked with another deep thrust, "feel ‘ow she’s shaking?"

You were shaking your head still with a mouthful of Johnny’s cock, because you weren’t going to last much longer, eyes rolling and fluttering, landing on the arm chair again where Gaz being treated as well, both him and John watching appreciatevly as Ghost and Soap had you in lopsided Eiffel tower. You were pulling out any trick for Johnny that you managed to remember between Simon’s thrusts, swirling tongue and bobbing heads. But what did him in was actually Simon’s doing. When Simon rolled his hips into you just right, hitting every good spot and giving your clit a swipe, your eyes crossed and you moaned, practically screaming around Johnny’s member, the vibrations and look on your face enough to finish him. His hand tightened in your hair, hips snapping, pushing your nose into his pelvis, and holding you there as he came with what some might call a battle cry. After everything Simon had put him through earlier, he was pent up, leaving him cumming. and cumming, and cumming, until you had to swat at his thigh because you couldn’t take anymore.

You swallowed what you could, taking a couple more spurts to your face and chest before Johnny crumbled onto the couch against you, kissing the taste of himself right off your tongue as Simon continued his thrusts, getting incrementally faster and harder as you proved you could handle it. The scot took over the praising and encouragement as his superior fell back into the quiet grunting and groaning against you, though you could barely make out any of the words as you approached your fourth finish. For the first time in your life you understood the phrase "fucked stupid". You were somewhat sure you were rambling gibberish accolades to the men, cries of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ’thank you’ intermingled with moans and curses that put your over the top XXX twin’s to shame.

"C’mon, sweetheart, one more f’ me." Simon growled out, switching positions so quickly and effeciently that you didn’t even realize it until you body was pressed face down into the couch cushion, Simon still behind you, drilling into you with a pace that put mechanized machinery to shame. You weren’t even sure how you were taking it just that you were and if he stopped you might start crying, "I know you’re close, just lemme have it-"

Johnny was back on his knees in front of the couch, catching your nipple in his mouth. And you turned your head towards John and Kyle, locked in their own encounter, and then it just snapped. Your orgasm not just washing over you, but a tidal wave crashing over you and frying every nerve a long the way. For a moment your vision whited out, the only thing you were aware of was Simon’s strokes slowing and working you through it. With your body practically vibrating with overstimulation, you let your unseeing eyes roam to to the cieling fan and let your mind wander as you floated somewhere above reality for a bit, enjoying the electric feelings between each neuron firing. Every noise and sight becoming background information as overstimulation fuzzed it all out except the aftershocks and twinges in your core.

You weren’t sure how long it was before you came back to yourself, but you heard Johnny’s voice first, "C’mon, bonnie, float back down to us."

"There she is." Kyle cooed in tandem with the other sergeant while your cheek, "Lost you for a bit there. Alright?"

You were more than alright, body more sated than it’d been in years, still thrumming and twitching with the aftershocks, so you just nodded slowly, trying to focus your eyes in on one thing at a time, voice slightly slurred with nothing to do with the drinks, " ‘m alright."

"Was worried I broke you." That was Simon, who’s lap your head was in. You only offered a dopey smile and a lazily blink.

"You might’ve, but I’m ok, more than ok." You sighed with a dry laugh, turning your head so your cheek pressed to his thigh, though you noticed he’d slipped his sweats back on.

"Si’s gotta work on being gentle, we don’t make him practice enough." Johnny teased, running soothing hands along your sides. Suddenly, a cup of water with a straw was placed in front of your face, and when you looked up it was Price holding it down to you before Kyle took it and held it steady for you.

"Never see you complaining about it, McTavish." John teased right back, trading off the cup so he could smooth hair off your sweaty forehead, "Take as long as you need, sweet, y’did good for us. So good."

His praise nestled deeply, right between your ribs, making you smile softly as Kyle coaxed the straw into your mouth, letting you sip on the water as he ran a caring thumb over the apple of your cheek.

—

You must’ve dozed off, because when you woke up, you were still on the couch, but everyone else had moved around you liked you simply always been nestled amongst them. The thought made your lips curl in a dopey grin as you looked around them. Half upright and wrapped in someone’s hoodie, you were laying against Price’s chest, head tipped back into his shoulder as he worked around a plate filled for two, the atmosphere was cozy now, the electric frantic tension from earlier had morphed into something warm and intimate.

“Evening. Hungry?” His chest rumbled as he held the plate closer to your field of view. Two very juicy ribeyes, baked potatoes, green vegetable- the stereotypical macho man plate. John seemed all too proud of himself when you opened your mouth to accept a fork of perfectly cut bite-size steak, laughing when you hummed in approval, “There we go, sweet, worked up an appetite, yeah?”

“Really? Thought we already stuffed ‘er pretty good.” Kyle teased, still gently swiping warm rags over your body, wiping away any evidence that wasn’t etched or sucked semipermanently into your skin, occasionally following his ministrations with gentle kisses and soft praises, “Feel ok, love? Need anything?”

When you shook your head, gently squeezing his wrist in gratitude, he only smiled, giving you a tender kiss to the forehead before retrieving his own plate and sitting on the opposite side of Price, claiming the captain’s other shoulder for his own head.

Johnny was in the same boat as you, though whatever the hell Simon had done to him made his attention to you look like princess treatment, having obviously reigned himself in with you. Was that what Ghost was getting out of his system before coming back to you? Still, the scot didn’t seem to have many complaints after Simon sat him down between your legs on the couch, letting the sergeant lay facedown against the softest part of your stomach, where he’d nuzzled the hoodie out of the way so he could rest against your bare skin. It was then you noticed that you and Johnny were the only ones still in a state of undress which if your mind wasn’t moving at a snail’s pace, you might’ve tried to read into.

Like you, he seemed half asleep and fucked out, a couple more bites around his neck that hadn’t been there the last time he’d been touching you. Soap’s mohawk gave you something to gently fidget with as Price nudged another bite against your lips. Simon took his seat on the floor, leaned back against the base of the couch with his head tipped back against the curve of your hip. One of his arms wrapped around the leg that Johnny had dangling off the couch, massaging gentle circles into the mans calf muscle. His other other arm was propped on his knee so he could catch your wrist where it flopped down on his shoulder. He was tender as he ran his ungloved hand over yours, massaging your fingers and comparing them to his much larger hands, murmuring himself, “No callouses.”

“Told you, Si.” Johnny sighed almost dreamily into your bare stomach, leaning into your fingers in his hair. With the rest of the men doting on you and Johnny, Simon didn’t even retaliate or tease something back, just snickering quietly and fondly, offering straw topped water bottle to the sergeant.

Another bite of food was offered to you, along with water, and something struck you funny, drawing a quiet chuckle out of you as you turned your face into Price’s neck to stifle the noise. It drew the group’s eyes, clearly waiting for you to divulge. “C’mon, hen, share with the class.” Johnny prompted with grin, always down for a laugh, propping his chin up on your belly so he could look at you through the valley of your cleavage, eyes shining like you’d hung the moon.

“What’s on that pretty mind of yours?” Price rose his eyebrows, cutting another bite of meat for you.

“Nothing, it’s dumb.” You snicker a little more, earning a expectant but amiable tug to your fingers from Simon, “It’s just all a little backwards, s’all.”

“Backwards?” The liutenant parroted in that deep Manc accent, making you giggle a bit more, nodding against Price.

“I let y’all fuck me every which way from Tuesday, and you didn’t even buy me dinner first.” You mused, ironically before taking another bite of one of the best steaks you’d ever had, which could be an effect of the post-sex endorphin rush, or maybe John was just a grill master. “Our apologies, sweet thing.” John rolled his eyes playfully, his apology deeply sarcastic as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“In our defense, dinner and a very nice bottle of wine were on the agenda before, but some people,” Gaz’s eyes flicked over to Johnny and Simon who didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. Simon was stone faced as usual, still playing with and kissing at your fingers while Johnny just smiled into your belly, “got impatient.”

“Hey, the first time Simon fucked me all I got was the drink mix and wet nap from his MRE.” Johnny whined which only made you laugh harder.

“Y’didn’t ask for anything else.” Simon shrugged tilting his head to press an uncharacteristically romantic kiss to the curve of the Scot’s knee. “ ’sides, I got your mouth on her didn’t I? think I made up for it.” And before you could question if Simon was really the one to orchestrate all of this, Price quieted you with a bite of potato while Gaz leaned over to distract you with his lips on your shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, love.”

And for the first time since you’d seen their search histories, you weren’t worried about much of anything other than when this might happen again.

____

me, who doesn’t ever really write smut: yes i will enjoy writing a fivesome with at least ten hands, five mouths, ten arms, and four penises to keep up with.

Y’all should see the notesapp where I had to like draw out stick figures to see if what I was writing was anatomically possible. I feel like this has gotten me on some kind of watchlist.

Taglist in Comments because there were too many of y'all!! Thanks to anyone who has commented, liked, and reblogged! Whenever I'm feeling uninspired, I just scroll through y'alls comments and they make me smile so so much!!!

#—rosies.reblogs #codmw x reader #simon riley x reader #141 x reader #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #johnny mctavish x reader

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rosiesareblu · 10 months ago

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i want him so bad

gege confirming gojo was meant to be a rich househusband is so real to me. he just want to be taken care of. just imagining him cuddling with you after your 9 to 5 job. you insist on working just to ensure the well being of both of you even if he can pay for you for the rest of your life. gege also confirming that he goes to sleep at 4 am and wakes up at 7 am. The both of you definitely work on fixing his sleep schedule and he always sleeps easier with you in his arms. he still wakes up early to make you coffee and breakfast. all he ever asks for in return is to be coddled and kept close to your heart.

#—rosies.reblogs #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x gender neutral reader #satoru gojo x reader

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rosiesareblu · 4 months ago

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its quite literally canon

Caleb: I’ve been dropping her the most insanely obvious hints for like, years now. No response.

MC: Wow. She sound stupid.

Caleb: But she's not. She's really smart actually. Just dense.

MC: Maybe you need to be more obvious? Like, I don’t know… “Hey! I love you!”

Caleb: I guess you’re right. Hey MC, I love you.

MC: See! Just say that!

Caleb: Holy fucking shit.

MC: If that flies over her head then, sorry Caleb, but she's too dumb for you.

Caleb: MC.

#—rosies.reblogs #caleb my boyyyyy

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rosiesareblu · 10 months ago

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IM FUCKIN SOBBING I LOVE THIS

Burden... or asset?

Uzui Tengen x Fem! Reader

Tengen recieves a crow telling him some bad news.

Tags: angst, self-worth issues, fluff, orgy, aftercare, sub reader, sub Makio, soft dom Hinatsuru, mean-ish dom Suma Word count: 14,2k

Masterlist | Part 1

A crow came flying just as you were leaving the estate for your date. The grimace on Tengen's face signified bad news arrived, a slip of paper in his hands.

"What is it?"

"My… best buddy is in the Butterfly Mansion. Run-in with an Upper Moon."

Since you came back, he'd told you all about his current occupation and standing in the corps. It was fascinating. You’d been removed from the so-called ‘world news’ due to your Mission, so it all came as a surprise. It was also curious how you’d never run into a demon before.

“We can cancel our date. You must be worried…” you offered, taking his hand in yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Tengen still looked torn. “If you want, I can go with you?”

And so, your time together was cut short - he took you in his arms and rushed off with an urgency you hadn’t seen since you came home.

The room in Butterfly mansion was decorated with origami cranes; there was a vase with fresh flowers at the bedside. The man, who you came to see, laid on the sick bed and had hair like dancing flames, though partially hidden by bandages. The whole room might have smelled like disinfectant but the overall feel of it was homey, cozy, lived-in; a very colorful display - flashy and flamboyant.

“Well, well, well - look at you. The white of the bandages does bring out your eyes. Maybe you should wear them more often,” Tengen said in a teasing tone, voice a little thick despite his bravado.

His best buddy smiled broadly. “That’s why I wore the white haori, Tengen. It has always flattered us Rengoku men, hasn’t it?” The volume of his speech could barely count as an inside voice; it reminded you a little of your half-deaf grandma, back when she was alive. Perhaps he’d sustained an injury of sorts…

You would be the last person to judge him for that.

Tengen sat heavily on the chair next to his bed as if he carried a crushing burden on his back, while you lingered a few feet behind him, feeling like you shouldn’t be here.

“I’m glad you’re alive. I came as soon as I heard… Though you left for that Train over a week ago. What delayed the news?”

“Shinobu told only my father and brother at first, said I needed the quiet and space - even though I was unconscious! Though apparently, that was pretty bad!” he smiled brightly, as if he weren't in critical condition just a few days prior. The bandage over his eye, half his head and torso down to his abdomen sounded more than pretty bad to you. “Senjuro came to visit me while I was out of it… Though I wish he didn’t have to see me in such a pitiful state.”

Tengen huffed in amusement, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “You are certainly a sore sight for my flamboyant eyes, Kyojuro.” The movement revealed your form to the injured man.

He glanced towards you. “And who is this beautiful lady with you?”

Tengen smiled brightly. "Right - Kyojuro, this is Uzui [Name], my first wife. [Name], this is Rengoku Kyojuro, the flame Hashira."

"Ex," Kyojuro interrupted. "I guess I was hurt pretty badly! Shinobu told me I'm no longer in any fighting condition."

You blurted out the first thing that came to mind, for it was a question you, yourself, were struggling with. "What will you do now? If you don't mind me asking…" What will I do? How can I channel my energy?

“[Name],” Tengen turned to you, eyes narrowed. He seemed displeased with your question, as if he weren’t wondering the same thing in his mind.

Kyojuro smiled brightly, completely at ease despite your intrusive question. "Why, I’ll do as all retired Hashira do - train new slayers. Perhaps I shall find an inheritor of Flame Breathing as well!" The optimism this man had was unreal.

The conversation faded into a background noise. Train new slayers, he said. You didn’t want to train new shinobi. You’d thought about getting into wifely hobbies, but that only filled your idle hands; not your mind nor stamina nor skills were being put to use, and it was frustrating to say the least. You itched for some action, despite what had happened during your last so-called action.

“-be discharged in about two weeks. Shinobu is assigning a nurse for me until I’m all healed up! And Senjuro will keep me company as well!” The loud and enthusiastic voice of the retired Hashira broke through your thoughts at last.

Tengen glanced at you for a moment, before he faced Kyojuro. “[Name] could help out too. I’ll be going on a mission soon.”

You shot him a sharp look. This was news to you. And rude to offer your company without consulting you first.

“My other wives haven’t sent any messages the past week. Something must have happened, and I need to find out what,” he said in a hush, all traces of good mood gone from his face.

Your heart clenched. He was willing to go for the others when he lost contact. He didn’t just simply assume they were lost. You weren’t sure how you wanted to think about this, how to feel about this. You buried your emotions before they had the chance to surface.

“I see. That is important indeed. Wouldn’t it be better if you took [Name] along though?” Kyojuro looked at you, tilting his head slightly. “You both could work together to collect your wives! Like a date! But a bit more dangerous.”

You pressed your lips together tightly. That was a good question. Why did he not want to take you with him? You’d gained back the lost weight and filled out to your previous body shape. You’d kept up a light work-out regime to get back where you were before the last grueling months at the Mission. Did he not trust your skills anymore? You clenched your fists.

Tengen shook his head, the beads on his headband clinking together. “It would be better for her to stay. My wives were investigating an Upper Moon sighting in an entertainment district. Losing contact is more than bad news.”

Why was he talking as if you weren’t there? You weren't just a breeze, nor were you a doll to be set aside when inconvenient nor were you a painting, to be displayed and kept at home. You were a warrior - a warrior who had the same amount of experience as him. How dare he?

“I’m here, you know? You could have just turned to me and asked. If it’s a red district then my aid would be more valuable - especially to find out about Hinatsuru, Suma and Makio’s whereabouts,” you finally spoke up, your voice flat. “If you remember, my skills lie in espionage, Tengen.”

There was a slight flush on his ears at your scolding. “You’ve never fought demons before, and that’s why you’ll stay and help out Kyojuro. I’ve got things handled.”

"I'm not made of glass. If those three can help you, why can't I?"

"Of course I know you're not made of glass. May I remind you glass wouldn't be able to take my co-"

"Stop," you interrupted Tengen, your face feeling hot. Kyojuro had been watching the two of you escalate the argument, lone eye going back and forth as if he were watching children play with a temari ball. "First of all, this is no time to joke around. Your wives are in danger, our wives-" You were still a little mad he'd gone through a mutually binding sort of marriage, making you the wife of Hinatsuru, Suma and Makio as well. "Second, you know me, you know my skills. You know I can help and that I'm willing to help, despite what happened when I came back-"

"That's a low blow and you know it. I thought you were dead. You forgave me alrea-"

"Shut up while I'm talking, Tengen!" Your chest heaved with your rapid breathing, anger nearly taking over.

Your husband was in no better condition; he used his size to loom over you, trying to intimidate you into submission. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body, somewhat more intense than usual. His eyes were slightly lidded but his expression impassive; it was hard to tell if he was aroused, as he used to when you were having an argument in your teenage years, or truly angry.

“You can’t just put me on a shelf like a pretty housewife. You need my help. Admit it-”

“You’re staying and that’s final!” Tengen suddenly shouted, making you flinch. You took a quick step back from him, adrenaline coursing through your veins. His eyes were wild, jaw clenched, muscles tensed. “You’d be nothing but a burden.”

You froze, breath stuttering in your chest.

He sidestepped you and left the room.

Nothing but a burden.

You’d been nothing but a burden since you reappeared in his life, haven’t you? You crushed his heart, destroyed his home, and you had yet to prove you were worth the complications arising from your presence.

So despite his continuous reassurances, this was how he truly felt…

“[Name]?”

You looked at Kyojuro, his worried expression saying it all. “I’m alright, I just-” your voice broke and you wiped your tears quickly. You hadn’t even noticed when they started falling. “I’m sorry you had to witness this.”

He waved you off with a dim smile. “You’re absolutely fine. It’s my first time seeing my best buddy like this, but all I can say is that it’s not your fault. It was me who stoked the flames when I should have left the matter be, and for that I deeply apologize. If I could, I’d bow to you.” Kyojuro laughed awkwardly before wincing and putting a hand on his abdomen.

All thoughts of Tengen flew out of your head as you stepped closer. “Hey, hey, easy… I think you shouldn’t laugh until that wound is all healed up.” Your belly scar throbbed at the thought of what the former pillar is going through. “Do you need me to call a nurse? Do you need any painkillers?” you fussed over him, sympathizing deeply with his pain.

A drop of sweat ran down the side of his face as he grimaced. “I think I’m fine. I just need to Breathe a little… Would you keep me company in the meantime?” He gestured to the chair right by his bed.

You hesitantly sat down. "Alright, Rengoku-san."

His smile made you feel at ease. "Excellent. Let me tell you about that one time Tengen and I…."

Tengen left.

He left you there with Kyojuro and went on the mission in the same breath. It hurt more than perhaps his words.

Nothing but a burden.

“Good afternoon, Rengoku-san,” you greeted the man with a smile.

“Good afternoon, Uzui-chan!” he beamed at you. “The Gods have given us the best kind of weather to walk home in, wouldn’t you agree?”

Your mind flashed to the wagon you would be transporting him in. A walk, right… You were given instructions by Shinobu to sedate him if need be. “That is true, and please, call me [Name].”

Kyojuro was already slowly shuffling out of the covers. “Then you may call me by my given name as well! I’m so excited to get home.” His wide smile was infectious, the black eye-patch doing nothing to diminish his bright expression.

Warmth spread through your chest as you helped him to his feet. Kyojuro was such a positive soul; despite your dark thoughts, you never felt lesser with him. You would love to become his close friend, if he’d let you.

“Alright, let’s get you to the cart. Aoi and the girls already packed up all the origami and dried flowers you wanted with you.” You supported him as you walked through the halls of the Butterfly mansion.

“Thanks, for everything. Your presence during my days of recovery cured me of my boredom,” he said quietly, surprising you that he even knew how to talk in such low tones. Perhaps he realized shouting nearby sick rooms of other patients was not polite.

“It was no problem. I enjoyed my time with you.” You two walked out of the mansion. He leaned against a wooden pillar as you knelt at his feet to put on his sandals.

“I apologize you have to serve me like this.” Kyojuro seemed embarrassed.

You shook your head with a smile. “It’s quite alright. Soon enough, you’ll be able to do it yourself!” You tried to be as positive as he was, making him smile slightly. “Besides, what kind of friend would I be if I let you suffer?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you looked at him shyly, face feeling hot.

Kyojuro just beamed at you. “Good thing you’re the kind of friend who helps instead, hm?”

Relief flooded your lungs, allowing you to take a deep breath. “Of course! Now let’s get you home!”

Pushing the cart loaded with a recovering Hashira and thousands of colorful stuff he wanted with him was quite the work-out you haven’t anticipated. The kakushi responsible for such had been called away on an urgent clean-up of a battle scene, and Shinobu personally asked you to do it, so you couldn’t refuse. At least he kept up a pleasant conversation on the way to the Rengoku estate.

A mini-version of Kyojuro was sweeping by the gate when you arrived. You tilted your head, studying him.

“Little brother!”

The boy looked up and smiled brightly, quickly running over, letting go of the broom. “Big brother!” He clutched at the side of the wagon, glancing over the bandages Kyojuro still wore around his torso. “Father wouldn’t let me go see you since you woke up.”

Kyojuro’s smile was like the Sun, if you looked for too long, your eyes would tear up. You had to turn away from the intimate scene, one you weren’t worthy to witness. Why were you even there?

"Senjuro, this is [Name], Tengen's wife. [Name], meet my younger brother, Senjuro," Kyojuro drew your attention back, as if sensing you felt left out.

Senjuro bowed slightly. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Kyojuro’s younger brother. Thank you for bringing him home.”

"Why don't you come in for a while? You need rest after such a long journey," Kyojuro offered, already trying to get out of the wagon unassisted, prompting you to move forward to help.

You smiled. “Okay, but only for a little.”

The day wore on, pleasant conversation lulling time into a background blur as you got to know both young men more. Tea was served, then dinner. Your belly hurt from laughter, and your cheeks might as well have been stuck in a permanent grin.

Golden light washed over all three of you as you sat by the engawa, the two little Suns with you glowing in the true setting star.

"Might as well stay the night. The road to Uzui home is long."

Senjuro brightened at the suggestion. “Yes, stay with us! I’ll go prepare a room for you, big sis!” He ran off too quickly for you to react to the bomb he dropped on you. Big sis was a name you’d never heard in your life, yet it made blood rush to your face as Kyojuro laughed, clutching at his stomach immediately after as pain flared from his wound.

Analyze the situation, as you were taught to do while being a shinobi - a kunoichi. Yet you could not take a step back from the emotional turmoil in the stuffy room you were given, and so the full moon saw you sitting on the engawa of the Rengoku estate, nothing and everything flitting through your mind’s eye.

You were alone.

The night felt cold, as if you could never see the Sun again.

Light breeze fluffed your hair, calming the whirlwind within for scarcely a second.

A door slid open. The light clack of a cane told you who exactly it was.

“You’re supposed to be resting, Kyojuro-san,” you murmured, not looking at him.

“I’m not that old to be resting all the time, [Name]-san.” You could nearly hear the grin in his voice. A heavy grunt accompanied his warmth appearing at your side.

“Well, you are still healing. And you might pull a muscle or something.” A smile appeared on your face, the banter distracting you a little.

“Oh, you just know how to kick a man while he’s down.” Kyojuro chuckled, the deep sound reverberating in your bones. “I don’t deserve your teasing, you know?”

“...that is true.” Your smile dimmed a little. Perhaps you shouldn’t be so familiar with him. He was your husband’s best friend, though Kyojuro made you feel so comfortable, so warm - something you didn’t deserve to be, especially when Tengen was out there, in danger, alone.

He was on a hunt for an Upper Moon demon. And you were there sitting on the engawa, doing nothing - when you could have been there, helping.

Nothing but a burden.

“I don’t want to be a burden, Kyojuro-san. I want to be an asset,” you confessed, staring into the darkness, so alike to the one you held inside your heart. You wanted to be cleansed, to be free at last.

And he knew just how to help you. “You know, the next Final Selection is in a week.” Kyojuro grinned. “It would usually be impossible for a normal participant to get ready in a week… You were a shinobi though, weren’t you? Do you know how to wield a blade?”

You nodded eagerly, your hair falling into your face.

“Sit with me then, I will teach you all there is to know about Total Concentration Breathing, [Name].”

“When did you intend to tell us you had a wife before us?” Suma asked, as gently as she could, after exchanging so many glances with the other two as they walked to the Butterfly estate.

The question shouldn’t have caught him off guard; he was actually surprised they didn’t press when [Name] had arrived back into his life, but now wasn’t the time to press this issue. He was dying from demon’s poison not an hour ago, he was exhausted, and Obanai’s late arrival did nothing to alleviate his bad mood.

“I was going to tell you…” Tengen sighed. “I was going to tell you once it stopped hurting.” His heart clenched at the thought of her gone, disappeared, dea- “I didn’t know she’d come back.” He faced the sky, the sun too bright against his lone eye - he now matched with his best buddy, he thought wryly - trying to swallow back his tears.

He didn’t deserve to cry about this, about her. He’d doomed her before he confirmed it himself. In a way, he had tried to redeem himself by how he treated his new wives, but he now saw the error of his ways. No amount of- whatever he was doing right now could have erased his guilt now that he knew she was alive all along. And that hurt more than anything.

The thought that he failed her destroyed him on the inside. Each day he saw her after she came back was agony. When she showed him her scars, he wanted to die, to rip his heart out of his chest and offer it, still beating, as compensation for the horrors she had to live through. And yet… it would not be enough, it would never be enough.

“Tengen-sama…” came Hina’s soothing voice. “We understand it must have been painful, but now that she is here, we need to know more.”

There was a lump in his throat, making it hard to swallow past the emotions and memories resurfacing. Tears pooled in both his eyes, making him wince when the salty liquid touched the wound on his left one. All that ran through his mind when the pain registered was that it was just a fraction of what she felt while she was away on that Gods forsaken Mission.

“We’d met when we were thirteen… still kids but you know how it is in the shinobi world,” he started hoarsely. “It wasn’t long before we started to fall… I saved up all my money and bought the mansion we live in to this day.”

There is one room you can’t enter, under any circumstances, okay?

It was her room, all three realized at the same time, sharing looks.

“It was foolish of us to marry, but I would have done it again. The short time we were truly together was worth it… She was actually engaged when we did it. Forbidden love at its finest.” Tengen’s eye glazed over as he stared ahead, lost in what used to be. He had been happy, both of them had been so happy despite the circumstances. They talked about starting a family, about quitting the life of a shinobi, about running away and never looking back. That kind of thinking bit both of them in the ass very quickly. “Her family was more… displeased than mine. She’d been sent on a suicide mission, though at the time, I had no clue it was that. By the time I found out, she was gone, and I was alone.”

And yet, she’d done the impossible - she came back whole, in one piece, at least physically. [Name] had no reaction to the silk yukata he gave her though, and that bothered him deeply. The bolts of turtle shell patterned fabric had been his wedding gift to her, it had been their hope, their promise, to swathe their first child in it. After her disappearance, it laid abandoned in her room. He couldn’t bear to enter it for years upon years, grieving yet in denial. He wasn't able to fully accept her death, to even think about her at all without weeping like a child.

Perhaps it was fate then, that after young Kamado’s trial, he’d commissioned a seamstress to make a yukata out of the would-be child's fabric on a whim. He wanted to hang it up, decorate the bedroom with it - a reminder and a remembrance, a threat and a promise, to never let any of his wives slip through his fingers like water.

Tengen was blessed though, with your life, he was blessed and he-

Nothing but a burden.

He would never call himself an asshole - would have never called himself one - until you, until that, until he called you a burden.

Gods, he deserved death for that. He never should have uttered those words. How hard he tried to reassure you, to ease you back into being home, to let you slide into comfort and abandon the high-alertness that came with any mission; night terrors woke the both of you in the silence of many dark nights - memories, would-bes, and thoughts plaguing the conscious and unconscious hours of your days.

Tengen had called you nothing but a burden, the words weighing him down now, making him stop and stare into nothingness, a chasm opening in his chest at the realization that no amount of comfort could have prepared you for this, he'd hurt you, broke your trust yet again, using your insecurities against you.

He had no excuse - sans one. He was scared, driven mad by the thought of losing you again and this time - under his watch. He was worried he couldn't protect you as he had sworn all those years ago.

And now he was the one who hurt you - the only person, who he couldn't protect you from, was himself.

Tengen was the God of Fuck ups, not Festivals.

As shinobi, loyalty was situational; whoever paid the most got it, and whoever couldn’t pay got dealt with.

As a slayer, your one and only loyalty was to humans. No demon should be allowed to live - minus Nezuko - and you planned to make good on those words.

You walked out of the wisteria forest on the seventh day, exhausted, but victorious. You’d been worried about it, since Tengen made even the lowest of demons out to be strong enough to rip you to shreds. That proved to be true - for most humans. You saw a few fresh blood puddles of where the other participants used to be throughout the week. All you could do was offer a quick and silent prayer and move on. The demons you yourself encountered were no match for your skill, though the borrowed half-nichirin half-iron wakizashi wasn’t your usual choice of weapon as a fighter, as a shinobi.

It was time to put such thoughts and memories behind you, move onto better and bigger things.

This time around, ten people managed to pass the Final Selection, including you, though you were by far the oldest. That was fine. Even if you spent only a year, a month, a week before you perished in the line of duty, even if you helped only one person, it was worth it. Suffering was worth it.

It was atonement for a lifetime of dirty deeds under the mantle of the title Shinobi. The whole weight of it was on your back, nearly breaking your spine. But you would endure. That's what's owed to humanity after you tainted it with your deeds in the dark.

Another side of you whispered, you’re still as black as you were before, you can’t find salvation, you are selfish to the core.

And the side was right.

Because your motivation didn’t lie entirely in saving humans, it laid in proving your husband wrong, in showing him you were an asset, never a burden.

You wanted to stand by his side and take on missions together - like how it was always meant to be. Tengen and you, against the world.

“Welcome home, dear student.” Kyojuro’s greeting warmed you to the marrow of your bones.

“I’m home, master.” You grinned at him, and limped over to give him a hug, neither of you minding the dirt and stink of the road.

“Congratulations on becoming a slayer. I’m proud of you.”

By the time your husband and wives were on their way back from Butterfly mansion, you had already stopped limping. You didn't stop training your Breathing in the meantime, trying to achieve using it non-stop as you waited for the arrival of your Nichirin sword.

The house was clean, snacks were prepared, and you found yourself sitting on the porch. Your stomach was full of butterflies, excited as you were to see Tengen again, though you were also a little nervous - you hoped Suma, Makio and Hinatsuru would grow to like you and for that, you needed to give a good impression.

You wore the silk yukata with a turtle shell pattern, an earthy green obi tying it together. You hoped you were flashy enough for everyone, though Tengen gave you the yukata so it must be flashy enough… Maybe you should have changed into something more colorful.

Tengen’s laughter echoed down the road.

Fuck. It’s too late to change. Is my hair messy? Gods, I should have checked-

The gate opened and you shot to your feet, straightening out your yukata in a panic.

Wine red eyes- no, wine red eye stared back at you, an eyepatch covering the other one. Your breath was nearly knocked out of you as you took in your husband. You knew he’d lost his eye and his left hand but reading about it in a letter and seeing it in person were two entirely different things.

You couldn’t stop your legs as you nearly ran to him, jumping into his arms, clutching onto him tightly as tears fell and stained his yukata. You had thought about what you wanted to tell him once he came home, but now that he was here - your mind became blank. You couldn’t think of anything to say, not when he was there, his scent and warmth filling you up in a way air and food couldn’t.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes seemed like hours.

At last, you said, “Welcome home,” in a choked whisper as you calmed yourself a little.

“I’m home.” His voice was near silent; if you hadn’t been so close to him, you wouldn’t have been able to hear it.

What a way to greet him after such a mission- Oh! You completely forgot about the wives!

You slowly pulled back, face feeling hot with shame when you took a step back, quickly wiping away your tears.

You bowed a little. “It’s nice to meet you again. I’m Uzui [Name]... your wife.” Your face was flushed and your hands trembled. “I hope we can get along.”

Suma was the first one to break; she nearly pounced on you, hugging you and swinging you around in a circle. You marveled at her strength as you held on for your life, laughing in delight.

A deft hand flew over your head and hit Suma, who nearly immediately dropped you - the momentum making you stumble back into a warm pair of arms and a very soft chest. It was Hinatsuru who caught you. “Are you alright?”

You regained your bearing, pulling away. “Yes, thank you. Are they-”

Makio was yelling at Suma, who was clinging to Tengen with crocodile tears streaming down her face.

“Uhm, is this the Uzui residence?”

Like moths to a flame, all of you looked to the still-open gate, where a kakushi stood. They had a - your heart skipped a beat - covered katana on their back.

You walked forward, smiling. “Yes, it is, kakushi-san.” You felt light, happy. Your Nichirin sword was finally here.

They bowed to you. “Uzui [Name], I presume?” They took the case off their back and presented it to you.

Your hands shook a little when you slid the cloth off of the sword. The scabbard was black, the grip a burnt orange, the guard in the shape of a flame, reminiscent of the one Kyojuro used to have. Your smile widened, cheeks near burning from the stretch; he must have told his artisan to make it for you.

It seemed the world held its breath for you as you drew the blade.

An ordinary steel greeted you before color bled into it, as if it were your blood fueling it.

A dark gold reflected the rays of the sun before it hid behind a cloud.

Your wives spewed congratulations after congratulations as you stared at your sword with joy. You felt as if you could soar. You laughed in delight as you sheathed the blade, hugging the kakushi, who blushed deeply underneath their mask, and then each of your wives. Happiness flowed in your veins, as golden as the sun, the flames, and the katana.

You Breathed fire. You were beautiful. You were powerful. You felt on top of the world, a goddess sent down to smite the evils of this world.

All this thanks to a single dark gold blade, your very own Nichirin sword.

Tengen could only stare at the scene in front of him, dazed.

He’d left you at home in hopes of saving you, of protecting you from danger he faced every day he went to hunt demons. The katana in your hand indicated he failed, and oh how miserably did he fail.

Did you do this to punish him? Is this your revenge? Retribution for the atrocity of taking more wives?

Nothing but a burden.

Did you truly believe his words - the ones he so stupidly uttered in a moment of madness in that sick room? He didn’t mean them, he never meant them. He knew you were more than useful, you were an asset in every way and form imaginable. Tengen was just scared, so fucking scared of losing you - especially losing you under his watch when he’d just gotten you back.

Fuck.

Did you… consider him unworthy of protecting you? Is that why you sought to become a slayer? To get your own blade and stand apart from him?

Was it a declaration of war on him?

Thousand men may die if so. He never, never meant for this to happen.

And Tengen would find no peace until he got to the bottom of this.

Raindrops fell one by one, creating a harmony of nature. A contrast to the whirlwind of emotions in his heart.

The light drizzle of the afternoon evolved into a lightning storm by the time the sun hid behind the mountains. You were glad there was no tree close enough to attract the lightning or to fall on the Uzui house, or you were sure there would be a big problem on your hands.

The tea room you sat in had been unused for months, clearly, as you had to wipe off some dust off the low table before you could use it. The pillows were clean, which was a blessing. It wouldn’t be able to dry out in this weather.

Though the furniture was traditional, the decorations were not. A few western pieces hung on the walls and there was a small statue in the corner of a naked angel reaching out to the heavens. One painting in particular caught your eye. It was a woman sprawled on her belly over a chaise, book in hand and kicking her feet in the air, clearly enjoying herself. If you squinted, the woman resembled you, a little.

But that wasn’t right.

If you were a painting, you’d be damaged, torn open, paint cracked, and your price would be pain - a price no one wanted to pay.

The door slid open.

All three wives stood there, and Hinatsuru spoke first. “May we come in?” She gave you a small smile, reassuring. You nodded.

Suma squealed and skipped over to the low table, quickly sitting down on one of the cushions; Makio carefully balanced a tray with teapot and four cups, Hinatsuru closing the door after her.

“I heard Tengen left to sleep over at Kyojuro-san’s. Is that right?” you asked, watching them all sit with you as Makio poured you a cup. The fragrance was slightly bitter, but you could easily identify it as mugicha, a barley tea meant to calm the mind.

You could guess why they came to you.

“That’s right. We’ve got a Girls’ Night today!” Suma grinned, nearly bouncing in her seat.

Makio gave her shoulder a light slap, “Shut up, let Hina speak, you idiot.”

“Hina~ Did you see? Did you see Makio slap me?” crocodile tears filled her eyes.

Hinatsuru shot them both a look, making both of them quiet down. She turned to you. “[Name], we’ve talked to Tengen-sama earlier,” she started. Your hand clenched around your cup of tea as your chest grew tighter. “We all know the feeling of looking in the mirror and not being happy with the body we see there. We just want to show you that you aren’t alone, and that in this household, there is no judgment. This household includes you as well.”

You stared at her in silence, in disbelief. You never thought they would be so bold as to approach you about this scarcely few hours after getting home, but on the other hand, it made sense. Tengen’s type wasn’t a shy maiden, even if it held a sort of appeal of its own.

A rustle of clothes caught your attention. Suma turned her back to you and loosened her obi. The short yukata fell to her hips, baring her back to you; there was nothing- until she used her hands to lift her hair. You drew a sharp breath.

An ugly jagged scar stretched from the top of her back up til it disappeared in her hairline.

“This is a pretty embarrassing story actually. Nothing grand at all,” she told you. “I was about sixteen and a spider startled me while training. I fell from a tree - a branch whacked me there, and since then, I have this ugly thing.” She let her hair fall down and sat properly again, a half-smile on her face; it didn’t look right to see her expression so grim and sad. There was a strange instinct to try to cheer her up, yet you remained silent, a lump forming in your throat.

Makio was next, untying her own belt as she knelt, letting her dress pool at her knees. Raised scar imitating torn flesh extended from her bellybutton to her hip, only partially hidden by her fundoshi. You wanted to avert your eyes but couldn’t. “This is only two years old. I was diving in the river with the girls when a current threw me on a bunch of rocks. Long story short, they were pretty sharp.”

She was so nonchalant about such a huge blemish on her smooth skin - it made you feel something, something sharp and unwieldy was lodged in your chest, throat, heart. Your hands trembled as you knocked back the tea and set the cup down quickly, lest you let it slip from your fingers.

You were being pulled apart at the seams, exposed despite wearing the most concealing yukata of you four.

Lastly, Hinatsuru stripped off her own yukata. A scar, unlike the others’, placed very deliberately over her areola. You choked on air, near hysterics.

Warm hands and warmer eyes reached out to you, grounding you as you keened. Because you knew the origin. You were there. You were there on the Mission.

You heaved a dry sob. There was only one thing you wanted to do.

You raised your fingers to your lips, kissing them, and then- the fingertips traced the ragged flesh softly, tracing it with a feather-light touch.

Perhaps you were overstepping, but you wanted to, needed to apologize, to show her intimately how beautiful you found her despite what had happened.

“You are stunning,” you whispered breathlessly, making her own breath hitch. You blinked back tears. “All of you are stunning.”

Suma shuffled closer. “And so are you, [Name].”

Your hand fell away. Perhaps it was foolishness, or bravery, that made you pull your curtain apart, baring your own skin to them.

There were no gasps, no horrified whispers.

Just four women, nearly naked as the day you were all born, sharing their humiliation.

…was it humiliation? Or was it strength to survive despite all the hardships?

"Our point is, each of us have some scars we are ashamed of. Do you think lesser of us for having them?"

You didn't even have to think about the answer. "No."

They smiled. And you realized that you would find only acceptance here, in their soft and tender arms.

Hinatsuru took your non-dominant hand in hers. "Some scars are silly, some scars come from gruesome experiences - but they make us who we are. They are part of us."

Suma took your other hand in hers, squeezing it briefly and lifting it to her lips. Oh so gently, she bestowed kisses on each fingertip, lingering on the scar from the knife tip that caused your abdominal scar.

In that moment, you did not see women - your wives - you saw deities, blessing you with their attention and love. They were willing to carry all your trauma together, to share the burden despite knowing you only for a short time. You had no words, except-

"I'm yours," you whispered, warmth filling your chest cavity, your body feeding on the intimacy, the closeness, the feeling of belonging. "And you're mine."

"You're ours, and we are yours."

If you were a painting, you’d be held together only by the frame - at least, that was how it used to be. Now, with three new wives to support you, you were slowly being put back together, healing at last.

"So… we match now, don't we?" Kyojuro said with a bright smile on his face.

It was the day after Tengen came home, but he couldn’t wait. Despite what he told his wives, he spent the night in an inn, marinating in the wrath he felt, in the hurt and the frustration.

Madness stewed in his stomach, threatening to be regurgitated at any moment. Tengen pushed down his feelings for the moment when he heard steps approaching. “Yes, we do match. Including the retirement and all the free time that comes with it.”

"I see. Well, you have your hands- hand full of your wives. I'm positive you will figure something out!"

A demure voice called out, "Excuse me." A red-haired woman came closer, kneeling behind the men sitting on the engawa and setting down her tray. There was tea for each of the men and a huge plate of steamed bread buns. "I thought you might be a little hungry so I…" she trailed off. Quickly getting up, she all but ran away from them.

"Thank you, dear!" Kyojuro shouted at her retreating back, laughing a little. "That was my nurse, Amiya. She's a little shy but really nice to talk to. She’s actually-"

Tengen wasn't in the mood to talk about his friend's nurse. He was here for business after all. “When did you intend to tell me you made my wife a demon slayer?”

Kyojuro paused, nearly mid-bite into a bun. Deciding to finish taking the bite before speaking, he quickly chewed and swallowed. "Delicious! Hmm, well, I didn't make her a slayer. She became one herself." He took another bite, finishing his first bun happily. "Delicious!"

“Cut that out, Kyojuro. She wouldn’t have become one if someone didn’t teach her Breathing. I know it was you, don’t deny it,” Tengen said between clenched teeth, rage very poorly hidden. Behind all the rage was worry, and fear, for her - yet all he could do was spew poison at his best friend.

“Maybe if you’d listened to her back then, you could have prevented me making her a slayer, in your words,” Kyojuro blew at his tea to cool it down a little. “Besides, [Name] is her own person and she can do as she likes. She wanted to be a slayer, she came to me for help, and I would be a bad best friend if I let your wife go into the Final Selection unprepared.”

Tengen hissed like an angry cat, “She could have gone to me.”

His friend leveled him with a flat look, so unlike his usual sunny disposition. “The last time she saw you before you left, you called her a burden. Imagine how that must have felt. If I were her, I’d be already divorcing you. Really, she deserves better.”

Better. Better. Better.

The word echoed in his mind. She did deserve better; she deserved someone who would support her no matter what, who wouldn’t go behind her back and marry three other women-

His brain circled around those thoughts almost constantly since she came back from that gods-forsaken Mission. What did she see in him that made her stay? Why did she decide to try - to accept their other wives in the polycule?

More importantly, Tengen knew she was antsy, that she needed an outlet long before he left for the red district. Getting back in the field - into the fighting, and the blood, and the hurt - was one thing he also knew he could not support. He’d just gotten her back, and he was supposed to be fine with losing her again?

No.

The answer was no.

He would have never approved of her joining the corps. He was a bad husband. [Name] deserved someone like-

Kyojuro sipped on his tea, looking over the peaceful garden.

-someone like Kyojuro.

“How often has she come to you while I was gone?” Tengen blurted out before he could stop himself.

Your first mission as a demon slayer was very uneventful, the demon being weak and easily tracked down, even despite your inexperience. However, there was a Kakushi that had gotten hurt - completely unrelated to the demon, they stepped into a small hole in the ground and rolled their ankle - so you were carrying them to the Butterfly mansion, which was the closest, or so the Kakushi told you. And they were right.

Once you’d laid the Kakushi down on one of the sickbeds further inside the mansion, where they kept the less severe cases, you didn’t want to walk back through the intensive care wing - especially since it was past midnight. You took a detour through the gardens, where you saw a red-headed young man sit on the engawa.

You looked him over, the bandages standing out against his sun-kissed skin. You knew immediately who it was. “Thank you for being there for my husband, young Kamado,” you said, breaking the silence of the night as you approached him. Kyojuro had told you Kamado Tanjiro had a very good nose; he’d probably been able to smell you long before you came close to him. “It must not have been easy - fighting an Upper Moon.”

Tanjiro looked at you, tilting his head. “Husband? Uzui Tengen has… four wives?” To his credit, he didn’t look as surprised to hear the Sound pillar had one more wife hidden away though perhaps his expression was closer to disappointment.

“It should have been me,” you confessed. “In the entertainment district - it’s what I’ve been trained for, what I was born for, made for.” The bitterness in your voice seeped through.

He gave you a tired smile, “Uzui-san, it couldn’t be helped.”

“I would have helped… He didn’t want me to.” You didn’t know why you wanted to pour your heart out to the boy. There was something about him, something that reminded you of Kyojuro, of safety and home. “I would have been just a burden.”

Tanjiro’s eyes softened, his expression sad, sympathetic to your plight. Yet he could say nothing, he only offered you an ear to listen, to take off your burden at his feet and go on with your life. He reached for your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I spent the time trying to become an asset instead.” Sleepless nights of the week pre-Final Selection came to your mind. You did your best to stop being a burden, and you achieved that; you had your dark gold sword, your Kasugai crow, and your duty.

“I think…” he started uncertain, “You’re a warrior - were one even before you became a slayer, weren’t you? So you have never been a burden, nor a liability. Whoever made you think this way is wrong, Uzui-san.”

His words brought a slight smile to your face. “You’re too kind, young Kamado.”

Despite the reassurance, dark thoughts swirled in your mind. Still, Tengen’s opinion was branded into your mind, into your heart, your body set on fire and burning you alive with the same ache that had pulsed through your veins in the rhythm of your heartbeat when you came back.

Tengen’s opinion hurt you as deeply as his betrayal had.

And it was hard to let go of it.

You were helping Makio with the dishes after dinner when Tengen finally came out with what’s been bothering him.

“Why did you decide to become a demon slayer?” his tone was a barely-restrained typhoon of emotions.

You looked Makio in the eyes, and she understood immediately, drying off her hands on a rag and leaving the kitchen swiftly.

You both knew it was going to be a nasty fight.

“Don’t be mad, okay?” You stood on your tippy toes and kissed his jaw gently, since that was all you could reach. Tengen had an unreadable expression on his face for a second before he practically dove in for a deep deep kiss, the force of his urgency making you lose your balance and you lost your balance, his body caging you against the counter.

As swift as a summer rain, the passion turned into anger. He tore himself away from you.

“Why the fuck are you doing this? Are you still hung up on the whole-!” Tengen gestured vaguely in a sharp movement.

You blinked a few times, refocusing on him.

But he didn’t let you answer. “Is this your revenge?” he growled, standing so close he cast shadow over you.

You huffed. “This is no revenge, Tengen. I just-”

“You just what? Your husband left on a life-threatening mission and you go dilly-dallying with his fucking best friend?”

“What? Are you being serious right now?” you could only gape at him, shock freezing you in place. “What the hell are you implying?”

Tengen grit his teeth. “What do you think? A lonely wife, soon to be a widow, in need of a husband. Oh look! There is one right here!”

You chuckled without humor, yet you found the situation wholly hilarious nonetheless. “Tengen, he has a girlfriend.”

“He what?”

“I thought you are his best buddy. Kyojuro’s nurse, Amiya? She’s his girlfriend. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”

Like a bucket of ice cold water over a fire, his anger was put out and he remembered.

That was my nurse, Amiya. She's a little shy but really nice to talk to. She’s actually-

You took a deep breath before giggling again, a little deranged.

Tengen took a step back. “I didn’t- I didn’t know.”

A mad laughter echoed in the room, and it surprised you to hear it was yours. “Really? You come back from a mission and you find your lonely wife, a would-be widow, found out about the joy of having a friend after years and years - and you what? Accuse her of cheating the first thing? Wow, you’re so fucking smart, aren’t you?”

“[Name], I-”

“No.” You Breathed, pushing him back and surprising him with your strength. “I never did that to you. Get yourself in the mirror and fucking look. Gods know there are many in our home.”

“Alright, I’m- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you of that,” Tengen took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I really am…”

“Yes, you better apologize. And you better apologize for one other thing, Lord Tengen,” you seethed. All the anger, the hurt and the pain bubbled together in a nasty concoction of negativity, a poison you intended to make him eat every drop of.

Because he made you eat his.

“I- Precious, calm down-” He backed away a little seeing your darkening expression, “Okay, honey, don’t be calm.”

“That’s right. You don’t get to tell me what to do. I’m my own person, with ambitions and feelings - feelings, might I add, that you hurt with your loathsome comment-”

Nothing but a burden.

“- but really, I should thank you. I actually found something I can put my energy to now that I’m no longer a kunoichi,” your voice softened as you looked away. You didn’t want to let all be unforgiven, you just wanted to fix it, to embrace Tengen and be embraced by him - flaws, scars, and all.

The kitchen suddenly felt cold, you felt cold - as if you could never warm up enough. You were frozen to the marrow of your bones, and the chasm between the two of you seemed so dark and wide. You were an island in the middle of a sea.

But then he stepped closer.

“Can I touch you?” his voice shook slightly.

Your eyes met.

You nodded. He reached out with both arms, his hand taking yours and pulling you closer, into a tight hug, his stump crushing you to his chest. “I’m sorry, precious... I kept thinking I could lose you, that I would lose you again so soon after I got you back. I didn’t want that, I wanted to keep you safe.” His breath hitched as he laid his cheek on the top of your head, breathing in your scent.

“That doesn’t excuse your words.”

Tengen’s heart ached, your voice so small and wounded. “It doesn’t, and I swear I will do my best to make it up to you - for the rest of my life, every day. I swear on my existence that I will cherish you every day, from sunrise to sunset and from sunset to sunrise. You are my one and only, my precious.”

The reverent promises warmed your cold bones, bringing life back to where there was none.

You’d long decided to stand by Tengen no matter what. You would forgive him.

After a punishment.

The master bedroom was a work of art - especially for a polycule. Nearly all of it was a raised platform covered by one gigantic futon that could host ten or more people, with about a meter and a half from the walls on three sides as a walk-around. Perfect for what you had in mind.

“Ladies, take it easy-” he choked out. It was too much at once - Hinatsuru cupping his jaw and leaving hickeys, you giving attention to his nipples, sucking and biting them, and Makio at his cock, lapping at his flushed tip. Where was-?

He tried to reach out to push his wives away but felt a tug instead, his arms immobile behind his back.

“Sum-aaahn~ Fuck!” Makio sucked him into her warm mouth, distracting him from Suma, who was skillfully weaving ropes around his arms; she was, after all, the best at shibari out of all his wives. Their plan slowly sank into his mind. It was hot, and he didn’t want it to stop.

Your nails trailed over his abdomen, Makio cupped his balls as she took more and more of him down her throat, and Hinatsuru practically devoured him with a deep kiss, taking his breath away. His mind went blank.

“Done!”

At the signal, all of his wives took a step back, leaving him panting and aching for more. His face was flushed and his eyes a little hazy. “Wha-?”

Makio grinned, wiping a little bit of drool from her face. “Did you really think this night is about you?” she tutted.

“Exactly, Tengen-sama. You’ve had our wife all to yourself for weeks. It’s our turn,” added Hinatsuru, turning to you. “As long as the First wife approves.”

You smiled shyly, face hot, yet turned on. It was all a show, just for Tengen. Hinatsuru had already asked you in private if you’d consider a night like that, since the three felt the need to punish him for his transgressions as well. If he already wasn’t regretting crossing his women, he would be after tonight.

“What are we waiting for?” Suma skipped over to you, grabbing you by the yukata and kissing you deeply. You squeaked in surprise at her forwardnes but kissed her back. She tasted sweet, like mochi - you now knew for certain she ate it despite being told not to.

The mochi was quickly forgotten when you felt your obi loosen. Suma’s hands went into your hair as she kept you occupied. Deft fingers pushed your yukata off your shoulders, another pair of hands going up to cup and play with your breasts.

“Girls, come on… I’m here, why don’t you use me for your pleasures?” Tengen’s voice was faint to you, as was Makio’s response, your head underwater despite breathing fine.

The hands at your breasts disappeared, leaving you cold, your nipples hard from arousal and the change in temperature both. Suma pushed you backwards, until your calves met the raised platform bed. She finally pulled back, someone - Hinatsuru - gently making you sit, then lay on the mattress.

“You look so cute when you’re all flustered… Your eyes are so lost,” she leaned over you and kissed your lips softly. You chased after her for more, but she only giggled. “It makes me want to ruin you~” She smirked. “In a good way, of course.”

Tengen could only stare in mute shock at what was unfolding in front of him. All his wives turned on him, tied him up, and ignored him, seeking pleasure from each other instead of using him as their play toy. The truth of the situation slowly sank into his mind as he watched Makio replace Hinatsuru in teasing you, and Suma help Hinatsuru into a strap-on harness - a strap-on that was an exact copy of his own cock! They could just use him!

“Girls… I’m right here~ My hands are a bit tied though…” Tengen nearly whined, trying to make eye contact with any of them, only for all four women to be focusing on each other instead of him.

“Sweetie, would you mind…?”

You looked up to see Hinatsuru with a big strap-on, waving it in your face. You opened your mouth and started to give it sloppy kisses, getting it all wet with your saliva, as you looked up into her eyes. She was smiling down at you, petting your hair gently.

There was a brief conversation behind you but you could only focus on her as she guided you down the cock, making you gag slightly. Hinatsuru pulled back and let you go at your own pace, telling you how good you were for her and how lovely you look taking the strap down your throat.

“Mhm, I think it’s wet enough, isn’t it?” She cupped your jaw and slowly slid you off of it, a string of saliva connecting your lips and the tip of it before it snapped. “Makio, come here.”

Gentle hands hugged you from the back, open-mouthed kisses worshiping your shoulders as Suma moved you back a bit to make place for your other wife.

“Mommy is going to make you feel good,” Hinatsuru cooed at Makio, turning her around and pushing her to her hands and knees. “Present for me, babygirl.”

Makio arched her back, balancing on her forearm to spread her already-soaked pussy, the sight making Hinatsuru blush in delight. She took the strap by the base and teased her wife by going up and down between her pussy lips. Makio whimpered and tried to push herself back on it, very nearly succeeding, when Hinatsuru spanked her ass lightly.

“Be good for me, okay?” Nevertheless, she pushed the strap inside agonizingly slowly, Makio moaning at the feeling. She used both hands to support herself now that the cock was in. “You can only cum if you make [Name] cum, babygirl. Sound fair?”

Makio smirked, though it lacked the usual sass, each slow thrust taking more of her brattiness away. “Yes, mommy~”

Suma pushed you down to lay in front of Makio, spreading your legs with soothing strokes on your thighs. “Let her make you feel good~” She positioned you to half-lay on her lap, one of her hands coming up to caress your breasts and play with your nipples gently.

Hinatsuru thrust in roughly exactly once, and it was to push Makio’s head in between your thighs, forcing her to start pleasuring you. She licked at your clit with just the tip of her tongue, drawing circles and infinity symbols; the long-forgotten feeling of someone going down on you ignited a blaze inside your belly, making you gasp and clutch onto the bedding.

Suma took hold of your wrist and placed your hand on Makio’s head, whispering lowly, “She likes it when you pull her hair~” Hearing that, you tugged at her hair a little, her moans only adding to your pleasure, the vibrations feeling heavenly.

“F-fuck-” you breathed out shakily, wanting to pull away yet push her head closer to you, already overwhelmed.

Makio dove in, sucking at your puffy clit gently, laving it with the attention it deserved. She made her way down, grazing the tip along your slit as she continued to make little sounds from Hinatsuru fucking her. Flattening her tongue, she hungrily ate you, a woman on a mission.

Hinatsuru looked up from the lewd display in front of her to look at her husband. Tengen was mesmerized, staring at all of them, before he caught her gaze. She caressed Makio’s asscheeks before delivering a sharp smack, earning her a loud moan from Makio, and subsequently another from you. His face flushed a deep red, lips pressed together in frustration. All the while, Hinatsuru kept eye contact with him, a smug smile stretching her perfect lips.

You tensed, crying out and thrashing in Suma’s embrace, hand harshly gripping at Makio’s hair as you rode wave after wave of pleasure.

“Shhh, you look so lovely when you cum, don’t you, princess?” Suma whispered in your ear, hot air caressing your sensitive spot as you shivered. “Did you see how good Makio ate you out? Isn’t she pretty when her mouth is occupied and not sprouting nonsense?”

You could scarcely choke out a word, quickly tipping into overstimulation. Hinatsuru, bless her, noticed and roughly pulled Makio back on her strap, pulling her face out of your pussy as she whined and moaned.

Suma rubbed your thighs in comfort; you just tried to catch your breath, coming down to Earth from the Heavens you were in.

“Are you with me? Ready for your lesson, princess?”

“L-lesson?” you tried to get your bearing, while Suma turned you around gently, shuffling back a little, her cunt nearly in your face.

“Why, of course~” She grinned. “You need to learn how to eat out a pussy. Did you pay attention to Makio? If not, that’s fine. Come, I’ll be your teacher today~”

You looked at her with half-lidded eyes, saliva pooling in your mouth as you processed what she wanted you to do. You wanted to try, wanted to taste her, wanted to find out how to please her and how to perform your wifely duties to her. The curiosity of the entire act burned inside of you.

You laid on your belly, your lips just inches from the well of ambrosia awaiting you. You give a first tentative lick, the tip of your tongue swirling around Suma’s clit, making her sigh out in pleasure.

“That’s good, princess.” Whispered praises left her lips, instructing you how exactly she liked it, where to lick, where to suck, when to slow down and speed up. Gentle fingers threaded through your hair, reassuring you and grounding you.

You alternated between her sweetness and her puffy nub as she guided you through your first oral, the taste so addicting to you and the praises intoxicating. Her moans only made you wetter, made you anticipate what’s coming next in the night as you enjoyed Suma’s depths for all she gave. Her thighs quivered around your head, the sounds of ecstasy resonating in your ears when her legs didn’t squeeze you involuntarily.

Your face was flushed, you could hardly breathe; you ate and ate until she was screaming and creaming around your tongue, hot pussy juices flooding your mouth.

“You did so well for me, haaah- princess,” Suma caressed you, easing you off of her with a shaky hand. “How was it?”

You licked your lips and looked up at her shyly. “I liked it very much.” The admission earned you a smile and a deep kiss, before Makio patted both your shoulders. Her thighs shook a little as she winked and then tilted her head in the direction of your husband.

You all shared a secret grin, turning to him at once.

"Heh, I knew you would want my cock eventually," Tengen smirked. You gave him an unimpressed stare.

Makio circled him and bent forward to hug him from the back, whispering in his ear seductively. "Worry not, pretty boy. Once we've used you as we want, you're being put back on the shelf. You see," she grinned evilly, "we don't need you to get our pleasure." Her arms tightened around him, a silent warning to not move.

Hinatsuru laid in front of Tengen, her legs spread on each side of his thighs as if she were offering herself to him. She patted your thigh to draw your attention. "Sweetie, paint me with his cum. I want it all over me~"

The nickname made your cheeks heat up. You nodded enthusiastically and shuffled closer to Tengen.

His lone eye was lidded, face flushed and lips parted as he looked on in anticipation of what was coming. His cock twitched right before your palm met his flesh, the spongy tip an angry red and weeping precum. You held it steady and opened your mouth, letting your saliva drip down on it, using it as lubricant along with his precum to stroke him. Tengen let out a breathy “Fuuuhk-” when you started a steady pace, putting both of your hands to use. You swept your thumb over the mushroom head with each pass, paying attention to what he liked. It was your goal to make him finish, after all.

“Come on, be our good boy and cum quick~ We need your cum~” Makio whispered into his ear in a sultry voice. Tengen whimpered.

Your hands were firm around his cock, unrelenting as you worked him towards his release; the weight of him in your hands was familiar yet new at the same time. His balls hung heavy and you cupped them with one of your hands, fingers deftly massaging him for the sweet treat inside.

Tengen cursed like a sailor, first spurt of semen shooting out with enough force to land near Hinatsuru’s neck. You didn’t stop, trying to squeeze the most you could out of him as he painted a masterpiece on his wife.

"Good job. Now you sit here nice and pretty for us. Such a good decoration to our pleasure, hmm?"

You, Makio and Suma all descended upon Hinatsuru with the hunger of starving hyenas. Licking at her cum-stained skin, you cleaned every beautiful inch of her as she closed her eyes, enjoying every second of it.

Tengen could only stare again, humiliated for the n-th time that evening. Yet again he was forced to sit and watch his wives go at it, barely giving him a taste of the pleasures they gifted each other so lovingly, using him as a source of cum to continue the hedonistic display in front of him. He felt shamed, and unbelievably turned on.

Makio’s head bumped into yours by accident, prompting you both to look up. Your eyes met, an animalistic impulse taking over as you locked your lips together, Tengen’s cum shining like lip gloss on both of your lips. So engrossed in each other, you forgot all about the audience you had, everything a blur as your tongues danced.

“Time to fuck that attitude out of you, brat.”

Makio’s head was yanked from you, a string of saliva stretching and snapping between the two of you as Suma tugged her back by her hair. Makio was forced to support herself with her hands on Tengen’s thighs, making him blush deeply at the sight. A sharp smack echoed in the room.

Warm hands coiling around your torso distracted you from your stolen lover. Palms with small calluses ran over your breasts, the rough parts catching on your nipples as you were pulled away and down to lay your head on a pillow. Hinatsuru laid beside you, foreheads touching, air shared between you.

“Do you want to learn how to make me feel good?” she whispered, eyes searching yours for any hesitancy.

You had none though. “Yes, please… Mommy.” Your face felt hot at the nickname you called her, but Hinatsuru only smiled gently, cupping your face.

“Of course, sweetie.” Her fingertips trailed down your throat, your chest, belly, making you shiver and goosebumps spread over your skin at her feather-light touch. At last, her hand stroked your thigh, raising it a little to allow her access to your most intimate place, two fingers delving between your pussy lips. You drew a shaky breath.

“Close your eyes,” Hinatsuru whispered to your ear. “Feel my fingers, focus on how I do it…” You gasped as her thumb circled your puffy clit oh so gently. “Copy what I do to you, hmm? Can you do that for me, sweetie?” Her motions slowed down, waiting for you to start doing as she ordered.

Your hand hesitantly trailed down her side to the apex of her thighs, dipping down to her entrance to wet your fingers before you began copying her. Her shaky moan signaled you were doing it somewhat right.

“Feel me?”

You hummed breathlessly, leaning against her neck, panting slightly. You weren’t ready for the pleasure her digits brought but you tried to focus on copying her movements. Each flick, circle and thrust was met blow-for-blow on her own pussy. You bit your lip as you felt her huffing into your hair.

“You’re doing so well, sweetie. Just relax and enjoy it, hmm?”

You could hardly relax when she brought you pleasure so expertly - each circle on your clit winding the knot inside tighter and tighter, making you see stars even before your release.

“Let go for me, babygirl.”

You cried out, losing control over your fingers as you shattered on Hinatsuru’s. Tears gathered at your lash line while she shushed you, still stimulating you gently, prolonging the waves of pleasure as they crashed upon you.

“So adorable. You sound so cute when you cum, sweetie.” She took hold of your hand and ground down on you. “Now, be a good girl and let mommy use you- ah!”

Hinatsuru didn’t bother to muffle her moans, chasing her own la petite mort. You watched in awe when she came, her pussy walls squeezing your fingers, more slick coming out of her. Her whole body trembled and she no longer had to control you as you made sure to gently bring her down to Earth, steering clear of her clit to not overstimulate her.

A lewd sound accompanied you taking your fingers away from her. You looked at them, all sopping wet with her essence; before you could stop yourself, you were licking it all up. Hinatsuru giggled a little and cuddled close to you once you were done, giving you a sweet kiss on your lips.

Makio’s face was right in Tengen’s, each snap of Suma’s hips driving her closer to her orgasm, her breasts swaying back and forth, her nails digging into his thighs painfully. He could not look away; he ached with need, his weeping cock begging for attention, tears nearly filling his eyes from the frustration. Just behind Makio and Suma were Hina and you, coming down from your respective highs, cuddling and not paying attention to him at all.

Why? He was right there! Why didn't you or Hina or any of them give him any relief? He truly felt he didn’t deserve this…

Makio went taunt suddenly, her eyes rolling back and her arms losing their strength, nearly falling into his lap. Suma laughed breathlessly at that and slowly pulled the strap out of Makio’s pussy, the fake dick bouncing a little. With a few tugs on the harness, she was free of it, a few indents showing on her thighs from how tightly she tied the straps.

Extra appendage discarded, it was time to untie Tengen, who’d fallen uncharacteristically silent.

Makio was crawling to the cuddling duo, completely spent, when the last knots fell loose.

Tengen Breathed.

Suma was on her back before she knew what was going on, her legs spread wide open. “Eh?” was all she could say when her husband’s large form caged her in, the tip of his rock hard cock already at her entrance. Her yelp alerted the other wives that something was wrong, but Tengen was beyond the point of caring. He thrust inside with one smooth move, groaning loudly like a cheap whore, immediately setting a punishing pace on his Second wife.

All other sounds fell away other than the lewd wet smacks of skin-on-skin. Suma’s face became flushed very quickly, clawing at his shoulders while he rendered her guts to pieces with his harshness. A beautiful mix of pleasure and pain.

He brought his hand down to her clit, circling it the exact way she loved. Tears filled her eyes as her release approached rapidly. Tengen had still not said a thing. He was just staring at her, groaning softly, sweat making his hair stick to his neck and face, which was set in a beautifully pussy-drunk expression.

She was lost, her back arching as she clung to him. The fluttering of her pussy made him let out sounds reminiscent of a dying man and still deep inside her, painting her walls white. Tengen pulled out slowly, still hard, throbbing and far from done. He did nothing to stop his cum from leaking out, turning to the rest of his wives.

Makio was already dozing off, despite the commotion, so that eased his burden so to speak. Tengen shuffled closer in a few quick motions, grabbing Hinatsuru’s ankle and yanking her to him, her noise of surprise drowned by his feral growl.

She laid on her stomach, so Tengen just straddled her thighs and spread her asscheeks open, pushing inside her wet pussy roughly. Hinatsuru angled her hips to take him in deeper, fucking herself back on him and moaning at the feeling of his cock rubbing against all the right spots. "T-Tengen, slow down!"

You could only stare wide-eyed as your husband railed Hinatsuru like a beast, his stump resting on the small of her back, arching her up even more, and his hand clutching the back of her neck. You glanced at Makio on your side, long since passed out, and then Suma, who was dozing with cum oozing out of her.

You weren’t scared of Tengen, per se, but this was new. You had never seen him go crazy like this. It made you gush with wetness at the display, your fingers reaching down to play with yourself.

His furious pace with Hinatsuru slowed down, though not any less powerful. He leaned over her, his whole body covering hers as he put his weight on his forearms, grinding into her with each roll of his hips, her eyes crossing a little, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. Tengen started to whisper in her ear; you could not hear what he said, but Hinatsuru’s eyes met yours, conveying a silent message you could not understand. Was it pity or something else entirely?

Smack.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Tengen spanked her, grinning widely, staring down at her. “Say my name,” he commanded her in a gravelly voice.

Hinatsuru desperately clutched the bedding - trying to remain in place or fuck herself back on him, you didn’t know - as she stuttered out a weak “T-Ten-gen-!”

“Louder!”

“T-Tengen!”

A quick rhythm of pap pap pap echoed in the room, you couldn’t look away, you could scarcely breathe. And then, Hinatsuru could scarcely breathe, when he wound his left arm around her neck, using the thick muscles to keep her in place while he had his fun.

Her face was red, mouth falling open in an ‘o’.

“Oh fuck- I’m cumming-” he choked out hugging Hinatsuru close, burying his face in her neck and groaning as if he were dying, letting up the pressure on her neck. She just whimpered meekly, grinding back against him, closing her eyes and leaning her head against his in an intimate touch.

You suddenly felt like a voyeur. You wiped your wetness on your thigh, quickly pulling a loose blanket over yourself, embarrassed.

There was a loud squelch and another whimper from Hinatsuru.

You chanced a look, your eyes widening.

It was clear Tengen’s mania did not pass yet, his cock still hard and twitching. “What, did you think I’d forget my dearest wife?” He loomed over you, his huge body casting a shadow, like a predator about to devour his prey. “Whether you're ready or not, here I come, precious…”

You felt like the temperature of the room rose a few degrees, watching him come closer to you, length bouncing, covered in slick and cum. You thought he must be pretty overstimulated, it should be easy to last…

How wrong you were.

Like an animal let out of his cage, he pounced. The last two creampies only took the edge off; your fellow wives were dozing off quietly while you were about to get ravaged.

Tengen practically tore the blanket from your body, leaning closer and blocking your escape, his forearms framing your head. “Why are you hiding from me, precious? Are you scared?”

You trembled from a mix of arousal and anticipation.

His wine red eye searched both of yours intently, waiting for your response. When you said nothing, he whispered, “Remember our safe word?”

Jade, or three taps on any part of his body with your fingers.

You nodded.

“You can still use it at any time,” he murmured. “Say it, or use our non-verbal signal, and I’m going to stop. Do you understand?”

You nodded again, making him sigh in relief.

Then, Tengen grinned, dropping all the worries he had; happy you were both on the same page. Now he was free to do as he pleased - as long as you didn’t stop him. “Then… Say you’re mine…” he leaned in even more, hovering just centimeters above your lips, your breaths mingling. “...pet.”

You exhaled harshly, the nickname doing things to you, his closeness, his voice, his scent… All of it an intoxicating mix of pure Tengen. “I’m… yours.”

“Hm? I didn’t hear you. Say it louder,” he whispered breathily, eye half-lidded. “Come on, be a good girl. You know you want to be~”

Your face felt hot at the intensity of his attention. “I’m yours.”

“Exactly, precious - mine to touch…” His right hand caressed your cheek, tilting your face up. “Mine to kiss…” he breathed out, diving in for a deep and sensual kiss that stole your breath away. “Mine to do whatever I please…” His hand traced down your neck gently as he kissed you again. “You’ve been naughty…”

His lips left your own; instead trailing open-mouthed and hot kisses on your throat.

“Teasing me all evening…”

Your pussy clenched around nothing, his cock bumping on your clit as he tried to position himself hands-free.

"Minxes-"

His tip caught at your entrance and he slid in with a low groan, your heat and wetness driving him near-mad already.

"You were so gorgeous, all of you."

In, and out, in and out - each time quicker and quicker, yet the way he took you could hardly be called graceful. It was an animalistic and desperate pace, all about pleasure and none about being pretty.

He leaned back a little, holding his weight on his hand. "Hold onto me," he panted out. "C'mon raise those hips f'me, precious."

You tightened your thighs on his hips, gripping as much as you could with his disharmonic thrusts, and arched your back off of the bed. His cock hit a very sensitive spot inside making you groan at the sensation and nearly slip down as you lost strength; Tengen used his left forearm to stabilize you as he fully raised himself upright on his knees, his right hand helping his thrusts.

He groaned, “You’re fucking perfect - and all mine, only mine.”

You could only mewl in response, your orgasm quickly approaching.

As did his.

“Fuck- fuckfuck, I’m coming, I’m coming-comingcomingcomin-!” he chanted over and over, falling over and putting nearly his whole weight on you as his hips stuttered. He leaned on his left forearm above your head to ease off of you a little, still slamming away into you, rhythmless and sloppy.

Heat filled you, setting you off like fireworks. Your pussy milked him for all he was worth, each spasm accompanied by a whimper from you.

“I can’t stop my hips- It feels so good, ngh-!” His semen spilled out of you with each slap of skin against skin, his pubic bone bumping against your clit and creating a burning ache there. Tears filled your eyes when finally he groaned out, "Fuuuhck-" You felt his hot cum spill inside you again, making you wonder where your husband acquired such libido and stamina while you were away.

Tengen slowed down at last, his body trembling above yours as he hid his face in your neck, panting. Your arms were boneless and refused to keep any semblance of coordination; nevertheless you hugged him loosely, one hand tangling in his sweaty locks. You untied his eye-patch and dropped it at your side, fingers returning to his scalp.

Each breath became longer and longer, his rutting finally coming to a stop.

He huffed and kissed your neck gently. "Gonna pull out now-" he grunted when your pussy spasmed around him, clearly overstimulated. He finally pulled out fully, for the first time since sinking into your heat, and nearly got hard at the sight again.

His cum was smeared all over your thighs and more still was leaking out of your puffy pussy. He could not resist - his hand gathering some of the pearly white, reaching up and smearing it all over your tits.

"Hey!" you protested half-heartedly.

Tengen laughed, still a little breathless. “Not sorry.” He gave you a short but insanely soft kiss, before standing up and walking to the door. “Stay where you are.” His form disappeared.

You relaxed, the gentle breathing of your wives soothing you. That was… something. You had never been with a woman before, nor had you had an orgy, or really been with anyone other than Tengen, but this felt good, this felt nice. Overwhelming, but neverending pleasure. Giving and taking freely. No pressure. Just ecstasy.

Tengen came back, carrying a small bucket of water and a few rags, each a different color. He gave you a wink and knelt next to Suma first, wetting one of the rags and cleaning her up, his gentle motions a clear worship to his wife. Once clean, he scooped her up and carried her over to the other side of the room-futon. Suma had not stirred once.

You rolled onto your side to watch him work as he moved onto Makio. Hers was swift, yet Tengen kept pausing every time she mumbled something in her sleep. Finished, he carried her to Suma, who immediately cuddled Makio to her chest. He threw a blanket over both of them as they snuggled for warmth.

Watching him care for them told you how deeply he loved each one, how devoted he was. Oddly enough, you didn’t feel jealous. Perhaps it’s the remnants of shinobi culture lurking in your brain, though the thought didn’t comfort you at all.

Hinatsuru groaned when he cleaned up his spend from her thighs, the water clearly going cold with time. Tengen shushed her softly, speeding up so he could get her to be with the others quicker.

With the girls, Hinatsuru rolled over, pressing herself up against Makio, seeking warmth.

At last, it was your turn.

“You’re shakin'…” You didn’t even notice until he pointed it out. He quickly grabbed the last wet rag and wiped you down gently. The water was lukewarm. “I’m right here, precious.”

His own body seemed clean enough, so he’d already done that for himself in the bathroom probably. You reached out and placed one of your hands on his thigh, right over the marks Makio left on him, hoping to provide him with a little of the comfort he brought you. Tengen smiled at that gesture.

“You did a good job, makin’ me feel good.”

You hummed. “And you did a good job making me feel fantastic,” you whispered as he finally wiped the drying cum off of your chest.

His hand slowed a little. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“No, you were just right.”

He leaned down to give you a tender kiss, the forearm of his left arm caressing your cheek oh so gently, it made you tear up a little. This man, your husband, worshiped you like a goddess. Your love for him swelled in your chest, your heart pumping heavily as if it wanted to beat out of your body. You felt loved - loved, cherished, appreciated. It was a heady feeling, a drug which made you crave even more of his soft attention and veneration.

You could only hope he understood the power he had over you.

Tengen set the rag on the rim of the bucket and put it beside the futon. You got to your knees to join the others when your husband snatched you up, making you yelp a little. He was grinning. “Can’t have you walking after your first night in our flashy group, can I?”

You giggled quietly when he laid you down, himself between you and Hinatsuru, who felt a greater warmth from his side than from Makio’s and rolled over to him. You reached out and threw a blanket over all three of you.

Despite your tiredness, you allowed Tengen to pull you even closer against him, bestowing another adoring kiss to the crown of your head. One of your arms stretched over him, tracing idle patterns on his chest - characters, words, should he pay enough attention to notice them.

I adore you.

I never want to leave your side.

I want to make you happy.

You make me happy.

I'm yours.

You're mine.

We are husband and wives, a family unit, never to be separated.

You closed your eyes and drifted off.

#—rosies.reblogs #uzui tengen x reader #tengen uzui x reader #uzui tengen #tengen uzui #tengen x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #smut #demon slayer #if ur not marrying tengen for his wives as well THEN WHATS THE FUCKIN POINT

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rosiesareblu · 3 months ago

Text

this is so good. Wtf this is so good. Im shaking rn yall oml

₊ ⊹ . ݁ THE KING ₊ ⊹ .

(boxer!sukuna x reader)

⊹ tags: ryomen sukuna x female reader; childhood friends; character mentions: uraume - satoru gojo; unresolved tension; sukuna is oh so in love; fluffy but a mix of angst/smut/fluff; domestic; non curse au; p in v sex; unprotected sex; dry humping; making out; oral sex;

:about: you've known sukuna before he was a world boxing champion, when he was just a scrawny kid who used to hide behind your legs when you were both in kindergarten. sukuna is growing tired of the fame and fortune, and all he really wants is to fall into the arms of the one person who he's always considered his home.

this fic is one shot. I'll happily answer any lore questions regarding boxer!sukuna x reader, but there will not be a part two or more parts of their story. It is a standalone.

wc: 19K+

Sukuna steps out of the shower, his body wound up in a tight coil after the night's fight. He presses the bridge of his nose together to relieve his throbbing head, but his brow is searing with pain. When he opens his eyes he catches a reflection of his self in the bathroom mirror- a split on his bottom lip, a cut on the arch of his right eyebrow and a slight bruise on his left cheek.

It's rare for him to look this battered after a match.

He's been untouchable for years, he's almost forgotten what it's like to take a few good hits in the ring.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?"

His eyes flicker up toward Uraume, who seems to have appeared out of nowhere.

He shakes his head at his manager. "Nothing happened, I won. Isn't that a good thing?"

Uraume narrows their gaze, sharp like a sly little fox. They can read Sukuna like a book, but Sukuna chooses to play ignorant and brushes off their knowing stare.

He knows that the inquisition isn't about the sponsors, the money, or the win.

He also knows that Uraume never asks questions that they don’t know the possible answer to.

Thankfully, his manager just sighs.

"The limo is outside waiting to take you to the party," they state, their heavy exhale indicating that they know Sukuna won't own up to what they are trying to prod out of him.

"Fuck," Sukuna grumbles. The towel hangs low on his hips, and he throws the one that is around his neck onto the ground. He steps outside to the locker room and proceeds to change. He dries off, puts on his boxers and picks up his black t-shirt before pulling it over his bare chest marked with ink. He then tugs on his jeans, and secures his belt around the waist. "Do I have to go to that?"

Uraume shrugs, "Don't you want to parade your big victory over Satoru Gojo to the rest of the world?" his manager adds, slipping both hands into their pocket as they stride casually toward Sukuna who is merely trying to gather the rest of his things.

The last touch is his signature silver chain necklace. He hooks the accessory around his neck, while mentally preparing himself for the crowd waiting for him outside. For the voices that would be screaming out his name, and the obnoxious paparazzi who can't seem to grasp the concept of personal space.

They all gawk at him like he's a endangered animal at the zoo.

His chest seizes at the thought.

He used to gloat over being in the spotlight. He took to stardom with an extreme sense of pride, but the thought of it right now just makes his skin crawl uncomfortably.

The only thing that Ryomen Sukuna wanted at this very moment, is to go home in fucking peace.

He’s given the fans and the world what they wanted.

"Little shit got what was coming to him," he blurts out in response to Uraume. "It'll take him a while to lick his wounds and get over his broken pride..."

Uraume chuckles, "and I was worried that he might have actually had an advantage over you..."

Sukuna swallows the sudden lump in his throat.

God he was fucking tired. His whole body is aching, begging him to get some much needed rest. He hadn’t trained this hard in a long time. The strict diet, the isolation, the strenuous days in the gym and in the training ring slowly started filtering into him in doses.

"Almost," he admits quietly, a little bitter over the reality of the situation that he was close to losing. "He's good for his age. Really good actually."

Uraume's face falls at that. "You don't sound like yourself, my king," they tease half-heartedly, addressing Sukuna by yet another title which he earned in the ring.

"The King", "The Beast", “The Champ”, “Monster of The Ring”…

There was a time when he was younger, when the fire for the fight burned inside him with such intense conviction, that he found dignity in the titles that he's earned from every match. The thrilling sensation of him standing in the middle of the ring, his hands raised with victorious joy as he looked down at his opponent while the crowd would cheer for him like he was a figure of the divine, used to mean a great deal to him.

But those titles feel…hollow. An old skin which Sukuna unknowingly shrugged off without even realizing it.

"I'm just exhausted," he breathes with a hint of frustration, giving Uraume a reply after allowing his mind to drift for a few seconds. "I've got a raging headache and my shoulder is killing me."

He slings his bag over his good arm, before turning to face his manager.

The pair walk down towards the end of the hallway, and Sukuna can already hear the muffled voices from the press that have slowly gathered inside. He elongates his spine naturally as he holds a domineering pose. He quietly huffs out a breath and tries to steady the uneasiness coursing through his veins. The second the press lay their eyes on him, they stampede towards Sukuna like dogs off their leash. A flash of white and blue flickers around him, disorienting him for a single moment.

"Hey, champ! How does it feel to knock out Satoru Gojo after everything he said this season?"

"Way to prove that you're still The Beast of the Ring! What's next for our King?"

"You've held your championship title for ten consecutive years! How do you go up from here?"

"Sukuna! Sukuna! Is it true that you've just locked in a multi-million dollar deal with Nike?"

Uraume steadies the crowd, protectively standing in front of Sukuna as they gesture everyone to calm down.

Despite the sheer difference in their size, Uraume has a natural way of commanding a room.

That's one thing Sukuna has always been grateful for regarding his manager; Uraume always looked out for his best interest first.

"Hello, everyone," they politely speak, their voice calm and pleasant. "While we appreciate the enthusiasm; our champion, Ryomen Sukuna, will only be making a single statement. He's had a long night and needs his rest," they announce, before looking over their shoulder and giving Sukuna a nod of approval to say what he needs to say.

The man is thankful for Uraume every single day. He already informed them earlier that he wasn't interested in any post-match interview or conversations with the press, and Uraume happily obliged by accepting the privacy that he desperately needed.

Sukuna tightens his grip around the gym bag over his shoulder. He stares at the small audience before him before clearing his throat to speak. "Young fighters like to run their mouth. I know because I used to be one of them. It's easy to be all bark and no bite. But in my case, I came out teeth first-" he states with a patronizing tone, noticing the press eagerly hang onto his every word and even laughing at his snide remark.

They are waiting for a brutal comment from the badass himself, for him to add the cherry on top of all the shit-talk he’s already dished out.

But Sukuna acknowledges that there is no place for it now.

He doesn't need to add more to the hurt he's already caused to Satoru Gojo.

Everything was settled in the ring, and now it was over.

"However, I have to admit that this was one of the best fights of my career. I had fun. He's been a thorn by my side but I respect Satoru, and I know he has a brilliant career on the horizon. That's all I have to say about that for now. Have a good night."

He steps away from the press, who trail at his feet like a pack of rats rattling off question after question as Uraume tries to console their demands. His manager delays their footing, all the while Sukuna finds the rest of his entourage at the arena exit.

A string of bodyguards help him get through the second crowd of loyal fans who have gathered. They are waving phones in the air, begging for photos and videos. Sukuna obliges with a few, trying his best to fight off the shakes that's starting to make his hand tremble slightly. People lift up their shirts, flash their cleavage and pull out posters, bras and clothes for him to sign. He does so, his signature faltering from a clean string of letters to a fast doodle of his name. His fans offer him flowers, art, and mementos which he takes, and whatever extra he can't carry he hands off to one of his guards. When he's finally had enough of giving himself to the fans, he bids everyone a wave as his bodyguards escort him to the private parking lot in the back of the arena.

Sukuna doesn't even realize how hard his heart had started hammering until he's embraced back into the quiet again. He feels incredibly uncomfortable in his own skin, and he isn't sure if it's the apprehension or the adrenaline wearing off from the fight. The phone in his pocket buzzes, probably Uraume wanting to make sure he's made it safely to his vehicle, but he can’t bring himself to answer the call.

"Sir," one of his bodyguards states, "There's a VIP who is expecting to see you..."

"So?" Sukuna scoffs, the black Mercedes in the distance a sanctuary. "I don't want to fucking see them."

"Well, you see, they insisted. They weren't taking no for an answer."

"And you would be shit at your job if you just let them roll over you like that," Sukuna begrudgingly replies.

Sukuna wasn't particularly fond of the VIP guest lists. A majority of them were people who wanted to fawn over him, or simply weasel their way into his pants. The other half were people with deeper pockets trying trying to bargain him into fixing fights so that they can win big bucks on their bets.

Sukuna did not have the time or patience for the latter, and even the former as well.

Especially tonight.

"Actually, Sir, she's waiting for you as we speak-" the bodyguard stammers, having to look up when he addresses Sukuna.

The champion stops abruptly to give him a puzzled stare and a piece of his mind over his bodyguard’s stupidity, but his attention is sharply drawn back to the car when he notices a figure step out of the Mercedes.

You're wearing a denim skirt, a fitted white top and a pair of black boots. Sukuna’s heart skips a beat, noticing that your hair looks a little different from when he last saw you. A sparkle of silver glitters on your neck that matches his own chain, and you beam at him with a bright smile that steadies his soul.

The click of your heels echo a little louder from the distance as you approach him, waving your fingers delicately in his direction to say your first hello. Sukuna's feet moves faster than the rest of him. He drops his bag off his shoulder, the gifts in his hands splay across the concrete ground and he scoops you up in his arms before spinning you in the air the second he wraps his arms around you.

You giggle at his greeting, your body trapped in a blanket of muscle and cologne. Your fingers thread between the strands of his red hair, tears pricking your eyes at the sight of your best and oldest friend.

Sukuna squeezes you tightly, "they should have just told me it was you by name," he exhales with a hint of annoyance, then carefully places you back down to rest your feet on the ground.

You laugh under your breath, "Don't worry, I gave them hell for it. I told them that I'm the only VIP who mattered considering I have been on that list the longest...."

You try to loosen your grip but Sukuna tenses up, so you ease back into his hug.

He didn’t want to let go just yet.

And truthfully, neither do you.

"Hi, princess," he whispers in your ear, his voice deep and thick with fatigue.

"Hey, 'kuna" you reply softly, your fingers curling around the back of his neck, as your heart beats heavily against his now relaxed chest.

₊ ⊹ .

The light from the car's backseat illuminates Sukuna's ruggedly handsome face. You cup his jaw between your fingers, and lightly trace your thumb over the cut on his swollen lip. Your eyes track upward and you wince at the gash across his brow.

"He got a few good hits on you didn't he?" you point out, not as a question necessarily but more as a statement of the obvious.

"A few good hits doesn't mean shit..."

"When was the last time you got hit this bad in the ring?" you press.

"I fight for a living, someone was bound to land a punch someday. Besides, it's not a concern. I had my good luck charm tonight without even knowing it..." he responds with a wolfish grin.

You jab him playfully in the chest. "You're not made of steel you know? You had me concerned for a second..."

"I roughed him up too," Sukuna states with a pout, "you're all acting like he walked away completely unscathed..."

He slings an arm over your shoulder, his strength pushing your body weight to lean closer against his side. You shake your head with disapproval as you press the button to switch off the light above you both.

The city moves past you in a haze, but you can't stop taking in the man before you.

Ryomen Sukuna.

The first time you met him was on the playground of your old kindergarten. You were all outdoors, and you noticed that these two bigger kids were knocking him around. The kindergarten teachers weren't anywhere to be seen. At the clear imbalance of power and with your sheer sense of goodwill, you decided to go over there and help.

Sukuna had just joined your class only three weeks before that. He was the smallest kid, and had a hard time keeping up with everyone else. Everyone made fun of him and called him "chili crisp" because of his hair. They teased him constantly for how he looked, how he dressed, and how he spoke and simply refused to play with him.

Being young and impressionable, you never engaged. But you didn't do anything to help Sukuna either. It made you ache seeing him treated this way, and this time you weren't just going to let it slide anymore.

Sukuna did nothing to deserve this treatment in the first place.

However, despite his small stature, Sukuna was a fighter even then.

He kept getting up even if it meant that he would just be shoved down once again.

You remember walking up to both those kids and grabbing them by the collar. You yanked them off, placing yourself in between them and Sukuna before scolding them both for their terrible behavior.

"I'm gonna tell!" you squealed with a furious point of your finger, threatening them with snitching words. "And if I ever see you hurt him, I'm going to make sure everyone knows how bad you are! And you’ll get into so much trouble with the teachers!”

You sharply kicked them both in their heels, and watched the kids scamper off, a little more intimidated now that someone they deemed as an equal threat entered the playing filed. Once they were gone, you turned toward Sukuna who was planted on the concrete ground. He was wiping away his snotty nose and trying to hide his tears.

You scratched the back of your head nervously, your throat all itchy and tight from the sight of him.

"You're-you're not a chili crisp," was all you could think of telling him in that moment. You gave him a small but kind smile, before offering him both your hands and helping him on his feet.

He was a whole head and shoulder shorter than you were back then. His clothes barely hung onto his body. He had to fix up his t-shirt and readjust his shorts.

"I know that," he answered with irritation, and a scowl that never seemed to have left him.

You assisted in brushing the dust off him.

"Your name is Ryo-men Su-ku-na?" you asked, breaking down the pronunciation of his name to make sure you said it correctly.

He nodded his head quietly.

You gave him another tender grin, and reached out for his hand before introducing yourself.

"I know who you are, I'm not stupid."

You frowned at his sharp response. "I never said you were."

The two of you stood there facing one another in awkward silence, unsure of how to proceed from the moment.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the next, kicking a random little rock on the ground. "Those kids are stupid."

"Yeah, they are." He grumbled through gritted teeth.

"So, if I'm not stupid and you're not stupid, why don't we be friends?"

Sukuna's eyes widened slightly at your words, like he couldn't believe what you said.

"Friends?"

"Yeah!" you squeaked with a little more excitement. "You'll have someone to sit next to and play with every day!"

He nervously gripped the hem of his tee.

He never gave you a real response, but the next day he showed up and took a seat right next to you in class.

You were both six years old, and have been insuperable ever since.

₊ ⊹ .

You press your cheek against his broad shoulder, and Sukuna sighs as his body melts into the leather seat underneath him. His hand gently rubs your own shoulder, with the two of you sitting in silence together as you have done many times before. He instructs the driver to take you both back to his penthouse, disregarding some after party that he's expected to attend.

At the call, your heart flutters with anticipation because it was a clear sign indicating that he wanted to be alone with you.

You shivered thinking of the last time that happened.

It's hard to believe that this version of Sukuna co-exists with the person you've known for a majority of your life.

The day after he sat next to you in kindergarten, everything changed for the better.

Sukuna still grimaced at everyone else, but kids no longer picked fights with him and he had a warming smile that was reserved for you alone.

Whether in class or outside of school, you both spent every spare moment that you could together. You were glued to the hip like two peas in a pod. Your parents adored him, doted on Sukuna despite him resisting their affection. It was only one night, when he was having yet another sleepover at your place, where you finally asked him how is he able to hang out with you all the time.

Sukuna revealed a truth that broke your heart entirely.

“Here is better than being home. Usually it's just me..."

"Just you?" you whispered innocently, "but your mom and dad?"

You watched him shrink into his blanket with uncertainty. "Don't know. I live with my Grandpa. He works a lot..."

It's only later in your life where you learnt the full story.

Sukuna’s parents abandoned him, leaving him with his grandfather to pursue reckless adventures together. At the time Sukuna was only three years old. His grandfather worked hard to provide for the boy, but he was an aging old man and didn’t expect to be responsible for such a young child. Sukuna's grandfather always showed deep gratitude to your parents for helping out and providing Sukuna with another safe space that gave him some much needed stress relief on his end.

His daughter eventually returned, in tow this time with Sukuna’s half brother Yuji. His dead beat dad was gone for good. But by then Sukuna was already fourteen.

He’s always had a complex relationship with his family, but things seem to be better with his brother. The two of them could pass off as identical twins, it was almost scary how alike they looked.

You loved Yuji; he was a living antithesis of his older brother. Always perky, smiling so bright it’s like the sun follows his footsteps.

Sukuna, on the other hand, carried the shadow and gloom of a waning moon.

Your childhood and early adolescent years were precious, cherished moments and memories that solidified the strength of your relationship. But despite everything, you were the only person who saw how bright Sukuna's own light could shine.

The driver finally parks the car in front of one of the most expensive buildings in Tokyo. Sukuna gets out first, and extends a hand into the vehicle to help grab yours. The touch sends tingles up your arm, but you do your best not to read into the reaction just yet.

The two of you enter the building, passing the security who simply tilts their head in acknowledgment, but from your peripheral vision you notice Sukuna’s eyes shifting around his environment.

“No cameras,” you reassure him with a squeeze to his bicep. “No paparazzi…”

Sukuna was aware of what he signed up for with fame, but that did not mean that you had to be subjected to the aggressive violation of privacy.

And after everything that happened, after the horrific clashing of both your worlds, he felt himself breathe a huge sigh of relief.

“They probably think I am showing up to the victory party,” he answered with gratitude.

The elevator rings, the doors opening as you both step inside.

Sukuna hits the button to the penthouse suite, and from the way his shoulders slump you can tell there is something off about his demeanor.

This isn’t the Ryomen you knew who walked away from a fight with the buzz of the winner.

He’s dimmed.

A bulb that’s flickering.

Something’s wrong, you thought, looping your arm around his and keeping your eyes on the numbers increasing as you swallow your concern.

₊ ⊹ .

Puberty didn’t hit Sukuna; it struck him like a brick over his head.

At sixteen years old, Sukuna was no longer the loser kid that everyone picked on. He was a tower, a watchful pillar that looked down on those around him with an intimidating stare. All of a sudden this scrawny boy shot up like a tree, his body springing into a new version of himself. His voice broke, dropping octaves lower than the soft tone of what it used to be. His shoulders broadened, lean muscle forming since he spent most of his time wrestling and boxing.

He became the bad boy that everyone blushed and fawned over.

The athlete that people admired.

His coaches loved him - called him a prodigy, and a star of the future.

Sukuna carried himself with plenty of self respect, and was extremely well spoken. Outside of his athletics he enjoyed reading and learning history, and his venture into sports only happened because it kept him busy and gave him some much needed space away from his home. He was readjust to a new life with his mom back in the picture, and a brother who was five years younger than him. At first it was simply an escape, but once he settled into the atmosphere of it all, it gave him a sense of structure. Sukuna was diligent about his training and academics, outsmarting and outplaying almost everyone around him. His motivation was fueled with every game and competition, and you quickly saw that Sukuna only had the expectation of being a winner and nothing else.

Navigating your teenage years was a bit tough for both of you.

It began with one sleep over just a year prior, the moment where you both recognized that things couldn’t progress as casually as they used to. You woke up tangled in each other’s arms, hyper aware of your bodies and the parts that were blooming.

Sukuna slept on the sofa every sleep over after that.

Thanks to your eruptive hormones, the both you bickered often and frequently. As you and Sukuna started understanding your own senses of selves, a hint of distance started to grow. For a long time the two of you only ever had each other, but with Sukuna now a part of the athletic group and you falling in line with your own little clique, the both of you were finding some time away from each other and identifying who you were without the other person around.

However, you always came back to one another, like two little magnets seeking each other out.

It’s all you’ve ever known since you were six.

One afternoon, while hanging out in the school’s basketball court, Sukuna turned to face you as you paced behind him while he was throwing some shots for fun.

“They think you’re my girlfriend,” he casually stated, referencing his new set of friends who always studied you with intense curiosity.

Your face burned multiple degrees hotter than it should.

“W-what?” You stammered.

“Yeah,” he answered nonchalantly, and you watched him dribble the basketball as the awkwardness settled.

“That’s…that’s weird…” was all you could think of adding on. “You told them I am not, right?”

Sukuna furrowed his brows and hummed. But he nodded his head.

“Just because we are friends that doesn’t automatically mean that we are “boyfriend and girlfriend”,” you insisted, using air quotes to emphasize your statement.

Sukuna turned so his back was to you, and tossed the ball directly into the ring.

“That’s what I told them…” he reassured, but something about his tone didn’t sit right with you.

The summer that followed - Sukuna’s grandfather, mom and brother took a trip away. Sukuna declined to join since he was participating in a tournament. After his wrestling team came out victorious, he decided to throw a secret bash at his place to celebrate.

You were there helping him hide away all the fragile items, before staring at him in shock when he placed a few beer cans on his kitchen counter.

“How did you get that?” You asked in a low whisper, afraid that you both might somehow get caught for doing something that you aren’t supposed to.

He just gave you a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, Princess…”

That nickname stuck on you like glue. It’s something Sukuna called you with annoyance when you were both kids, and you used to call him an angry dragon in return. Even though you stopped using that silly term, for some reason Sukuna’s pet name morphed into one of endearment and affection which he kept using.

“It’s just the team and a couple of girls that the guys have been trying to get with…” he ensured, “The guys wanted the beers, so I managed to sneak some from my grandfather’s stash…”

“And what if he finds out?”

Sukuna laughs, “that old man can’t even remember what day it is. I’m sure he won’t notice a few beer cans missing…”

That night you had your first secret party, your first sip of beer and your first kiss; it was one of those core memories that lingered that was reminiscent of the adrenaline rush from living out the freedom of being young with no responsibilities. You don’t remember who it was who called out the idea of playing seven minutes in heaven, but suddenly all of you were sitting in a circle spinning an empty bottle on Sukuna’s grandfather’s worn rug. Your heart sat at your throat, your eyes fixated on the piece of twirling glass, half wondering who it would land on. You watched as couples disappeared into Sukuna’s room, everyone snickering in a circle thinking about what the potential couples could possibly be doing.

The boys were crude with their commentary, and the girls giggled with feign disgust.

Some people came out looking displeased, clearly unamused by what they experienced, while others had a look of euphoria on their faces.

When the bottle landed on you, the first person you found yourself seeking out was Sukuna.

However, the other end of the bottle wasn’t pointing to him, but to one of his teammates.

His friend’s eyes widen with intrigue, a cute smile forming on his pouty lips.

Your own cheeks warmed with curiosity.

He helped you onto your feet, but the two of you were struck with an abrupt question that had you pausing your movements.

“Do you want to do this?” Sukuna pointedly asked, his focus on you alone and no one else.

There was a grave but serious look resting firmly on his face.

Something about his stare made you uncomfortable, though you couldn’t place why. With the eyes of everyone else on you and his teammate, you instantly wanted to divert the intense attention elsewhere.

“Of course!” You said with a casual shrug, then grabbed his teammate’s hand and led him into Sukuna’s bedroom.

You’ve been in here countless of times, never once feeling uncomfortable in this space. But this time, you were quite aware of the state of his bed, of the slightly rumpled sheets that were tugged from edge to edge. Your mouth went dry, your body suddenly trying to recollect every movie, book and comic that explained or depicted the intimacies between two people.

Two hands touched your waist, spinning you on your feet.

“Time’s ticking,” his friend said. “We shouldn’t waste it…”

“I’ve never done this before…” you blurted out.

“I haven’t either…” he answered kindly, and that made you feel better.

“Okay…” you said, before placing your hands awkwardly on his shoulder.

“Let’s just start with a kiss…” he suggested and then leaned forward.

You were frozen then, unsure of what to do. You stood there with wide eyes as you felt his lips on yours, the sensation making your belly tingle.

He pulled away.

“That wasn’t too bed…” you admitted and he laughed.

“Do you want to try?” He asked.

Your first initiated kiss wasn’t magical, nor was it horrendous as some of your other friends experienced. Even now when you think about it - the only memory that hits you is one of innocent exploration. It took a minute for you to get comfortable with his prodding tongue, to figure out the clash between lips and teeth, and to allow his wet muscle to access our mouth and glide over your own. The sensation reminded you of sticky, tacky popsicles that clung to your lips in summers past.

It was fun…until a loud bang startled you both, making you split from each other’s arms like opposing forces.

“Time’s up,” Sukuna growled, before barging in without even so much as asking if you were decent like he did with the other pairs.

The look he gave his teammate was terrifying, even you couldn’t help but gulp.

His friend let out a nervous giggle, scratching the back of his head as he scurried his way out. “Damn, that was fast!” He tittered nervously, his voice cracking slightly towards the end.

Sukuna narrowed his gaze as he watched him leave the room. Meanwhile, you both stood there facing each other, noticing his nostrils flaring as your breath rose and fell.

“What?” You questioned, returning his hard stare with an even stronger glare.

He huffed out a breath through his nose, “are you okay?” he asked, in an attempt to compose his clearly frazzled state.

“Yes!” You blurted back, a little shaken. “Was that even seven minutes?”

Sukuna grimaced, holding onto your eyes before he stormed out of his room, scoffing with annoyance at your response.

Neither of you really spoke about the awkwardness of that moment, and instead carried into the heat of that summer like nothing even happened.

But, what did hurt you after that, was that Sukuna never invited you to any of his “parties” again.

He fibbed and said it was just “a team thing”, but you eventually heard about the other attendees at the party, and only through the grapevine found out about Sukuna’s first kiss.

It felt like a betrayal in its own way, this sudden shakiness in your friendship as uncertain as tectonic plates waiting to crash into a shattering earthquake.

You called him one night to confront him, asking him why he wouldn’t tell you about his first kiss when you both should be able to talk about everything. But that conversation just resulted in an argument, a blow out that felt like a collapse in your world.

You both didn’t speak to each other until the end of that summer, when Sukuna finally waved the white flag by crawling to your front door late one evening with some ice cream as a peace offering.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, while you both sat on the sidewalk, scooping wooden spoons into the tub of vanilla with chocolate chips.

It’s the first time he’s ever apologized to you.

Even when you were kids, Sukuna refused to ever say he was sorry.

He would just pout angrily before over compensating with his sweetness to show you that he didn’t mean it.

But not this time.

You licked the vanilla off the spoon, biting down on the rich chocolate chunks, and hoping that the tears wouldn’t fall from your eyes from how your chest swelled at his remorse.

Sukuna draped an arm around your shoulder, “I hate that things have been weird between us.”

“You made them weird…” you mumbled and he just sighed.

“‘Yes,” he begrudgingly admitted, “yes, I did…”

You turned to look up at him, and he gave you a solemn smile.

“I’m a little possessive of you, I realize…” he explained, his lips forming into that small frown, mirroring his childlike expression.

“A little?” you answered back with a snarky tone.

“You’re my best friend,” he admitted, his eyes downcast with regret. “You have always been my person.”

“You’re my person too, ‘kuna…” you murmured, “but…but being best friends means that we have to trust each other. That we can’t just…hurt each other. That we should stop being honest or talking to one another when things get bad…that we can’t face things that make us…I don’t know, feel weird and stuff…”

He rested his chin on the top of your head, the two of you finally bridging the gap of what seemed to be the first real challenge of your friendship.

“It was a shit kiss…” he sighed, “I was just too fucking embarrassed to tell you.”

You gazed up at him from underneath your lashes.

“Why?” You said with a light laugh.

Sukuna’s attention dipped to your mouth for a split second and back to your eyes again. “I don’t know. You just seemed to have enjoyed yours in comparison. I felt like I lost a game or something. I didn’t want to admit that mine was awkward and wet and just…not fucking good…”

You laughed at that.

“Everything with you is a competition…”

“Not everything…”

You nudged his stomach playfully with your elbow. “Do you remember when we played Mario Kart for the first time? When you lost three rounds in a row and nearly ripped my head off?”

“How was I supposed to know you are freakishly good at that game?”

You laughed, “I stay the reigning champion of rainbow road!”

“You stay a pain in my ass…”

You rolled your eyes, “a pain in your ass that will never leave you, so stop complaining about it…”

Sukuna exhales, “It was…a bad kiss,” he admitted shyly, “She was so damn skittish, and I think I was too. I didn’t…I didn’t think it would be so…ugh. It was just not the right person…”

“Or maybe you were just nervous…” you answered honestly.

Sukuna shook his head.

“No, I know it wasn’t the right person…” he said with confidence.

You unraveled from his hold for a moment to look deep into those heated eyes.

“Can I say something?” he questioned, the tips of his ears turning slightly red, a blush you’ve seen before but never realized how adorable it actually looked on him until this moment.

“Anything”

“I don’t want you to think I am being weird or take this the wrong way…” Sukuna explained, pausing for a single breath before continuing. “I just thought the first person I would’ve kissed would have been…well, you…

The world went still in that moment. All you could hear was the soft rustle of the trees in the distance, and all you could see was the open vulnerability of Sukuna’s heart resting on his face.

It’s incredibly rare for him to even show it, your friend guarding that part of himself with such conviction.

“Oh…”

“But then I realized that you’re not supposed to be kissing your best friend,” he added on, stomping on the spark that flickered between you both before it even had a chance to even light.

“No,” you agreed quickly, your eyes darting to the tub of ice cream. You pressed the back of your spoon into the creamy texture, doing your best to ignore the sudden pulse in your chest.

“My second kiss was a lot better that’s for sure…” Sukuna rambled on, digging his spoon around yours as he scooped himself another serving of ice cream. “Way better actually…and on round three I think I got the hang of it…”

You swallowed the tiny lump in your throat. “I don’t need to know the gross details, please,” you implored, though your stomach rolled with a hint of nausea at the reality that he’s kissed more people than you expected.

You never admitted it out loud, but the confession made you a little jealous.

If you were an option in his head…why didn’t he just ask?

₊ ⊹ .

Sukuna lost his virginity to a freshman college student a year later when he snuck into a party with two of his former teammates. You lost yours on the night of your graduation party to the same boy you kissed for the first time. You and Sukuna were expected to attend the same university (with him obtaining a full scholarship for academic excellence), but your friend had deviated from the shared path after being scouted. The two of you commuted to see each other often, with you visiting him when he was training and him stopping by the campus whenever he had free time.

You and Sukuna knew about the other person’s intimate lives from the stories you shared, and despite continuously being plagued with constant accusations of being “more than friends”, you both agreed never to allow that discomforting prospect to intervene with your friendship again after that terribly awkward summer.

Rather than ignore the fact that you were growing to be even more beautiful by the day, Sukuna just became extremely blunt around you. He didn’t hide his eyes checking you out, noticing how your curves were starting to fill out and how you began to mature into your own features. He confidently spoke about how attractive you were, and often boosted your ego in ways that only enhanced your own confidence.

You enjoyed reminding him that once upon a time he thought “girls were disgusting” and “looked funny”.

“Let’s not forget I am the first guy to marry you,” he joked, recalling a game you both used to play where you pretended to be characters from a fantasy realm.

“Actually you were the first dragon to marry me,” you clarified, because Sukuna loathed the prospect of playing a prince. “I don’t really think it counts…”

“Maybe not - but all these guys fawning over you are going to find out you’re some kind of monster fucker and start running in the other direction…”

It was safe to say that the banter between you both never changed.

You on the other hand, were recognizing just how handsome Sukuna was becoming too. You’ve seen him shirtless a million times up until this point, but something about watching the definition of muscle build into his new physique, and noticing the way manhood slowly enveloped his body, began to hit you in different ways. This was especially noticeable when you would watch him train in the ring, paying attention to the fact that Sukuna wasn’t built just like any average person. It didn’t even occur to you how incredibly strong he had become until he would lift or move your body around like you were weightless and not a living, breathing human with physical mass.

One evening, while you both were walking back to your dorm from a dinner at a cheap ramen bar, Sukuna had the audacity to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder because “you couldn’t keep up with his pace”.

All of a sudden, you were acutely aware that the scrawny boy that you used to protect was now all grown up.

Sukuna morphed into brick and stone, while you were merely glass.

For some reason, it put a strain on your heart.

You guys really weren’t kids anymore.

This was only solidified a year and a half into his career when Sukuna fought in his first professional tournament at twenty years old. The man dominated the ring against his opponent. He broke the record of the most knock outs and became a household name almost overnight.

“The King”

Time moved at double speed after that.

Your fingers that were clinging to bits of nostalgia weren’t able to keep them from it slipping between your grasp. Things were happening in a blur, and the sudden shift in Sukuna’s world felt like a birthing black hole in your own.

The night before Sukuna was flying off on his first world tour, the two of you were cooped up in your dorm room, snuggled underneath the blanket like you used to be when you were both kids.

This time, it wasn’t awkward.

You had both experienced love and lust in different ways up until that point.

You knew that being this close didn’t have to mean anything risqué.

You were comfortable with yourselves far more than you were five years ago.

“It’s going to be weird not seeing you all the time,” you whispered with a sniffle, while Sukuna traced the shell of your ear.

Two silver chains mirrored one another, one on your neck and the other on his. It was your parting gift to him, a reminder to keep a piece of each other around when you couldn’t be together.

You assumed Sukuna would find it stupid, but instead he clasped the necklace around himself before doing the same for you in silent contemplation.

“I’ll keep in touch, brat” he soothed, but you could hear the ache in his voice too.

You circled your arms around his neck, eagerly clinging onto him as closely as you could for the little time you had.

“I am really proud of you though,” you spoke, your shaky breath against his collar bone, a tear rolling down your cheek as you inhaled the herby scent of his soap.

“I’m paying off your loans when the money really starts rolling in,” he chuckled against your temple.

You shook your head with disapproval. “Just buy your grandpa something nice,” you insisted. “And make sure to spoil Yuji…”

“That kid’s already spoiled…”

“But he’s a sweetheart,” you emphasized, “and I know he’s probably going to miss you more than me…”

Sukuna hummed. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

You tilted your chin up as he dropped his head down, your noses merely inches apart. You relaxed the muscles on your face, your thumb reaching to smooth the crease from between his brows.

“God knows what would have happened if you didn’t save my sorry ass back when we were kids…” he said with an easy smile.

“You would have eventually fought back,” you giggled, “besides, you don’t need me protecting you anymore…” you pointed out, your voice a little breathless, and your anxious mind running on the concern of if you might even fit into Sukuna’s new life after this.

He wrapped his arms around you, bringing you into the seam of his frame.

“I always need you,” he confessed, and those words were enough to make you break as the pain of his departure finally collided into you.

₊ ⊹ .

Sukuna went off to having an extremely successful boxing career.

At twenty-two, he had turned into one of the hottest sports stars the industry has ever seen.

He had win after his win under his belt, and the second he partnered with Uraume it was a match made in heaven.

He was insanely good, and with Uraume by his side, he was now unstoppable.

You were provided tickets to any of his fights, accompanied with private transportation and accommodation if necessary. Sukuna always made sure that you were well take care of, and you always accepted because it was the only time you were able to actually see him. Those few days were precious together, before you had to depart and return to the real world once again. Each of Sukuna’s fights was a mesmerizing experience. There was something about his flow in the ring that managed to make everything else around him blur.

He was strong, but agile.

Brutal but swift with his movements.

He moved with regal precision, a dancer that understood the rhythms of strength.

Everyone challenged him, but all of them failed.

Ryomen Sukuna was a force to be reckoned with.

Despite the distance, you and Sukuna always made a conscious effort at keeping in touch with each other. You may not be physically there in each other’s presence, but not a day went by without a phone call or multiple texts.

At twenty-seven, Sukuna was at the peak of his stardom. Your best friend found himself tangled between the world of fame and fortune, alongside his old life of normalcy and humble peace. He made good on his promises; setting up a trust fund to ensure that Yuji was well taken care of in every capacity. He paid off all your loans in secret because he knew you would never accept it from him upfront. He bought his grandfather a home in Osaka for him to retire to. And his peace offering to his mom was renovating their old, broken home into something new and vibrant for her to live her life happily now that she seemed to have finally settled down in her third marriage. Sukuna even offered to take care of his step brother, Choso. They may not have been personally close, but he was grateful that Choso was keeping a watchful eye on Yuji.

Your own life was starting to unfurl as well - you had graduated university, were experiencing your first serious relationship, navigating various friendships and landing your first job. It all felt normal compared to Sukuna, but the man never minimized your experiences.

When you were together, it’s like nothing had even changed, but the moment your realities bled into each other, it was a constant reminder of how just how far apart your lives actually were.

You were harassed by the paparazzi who constantly overstepped.

Sukuna’s boundaries were crossed by the people you knew because everyone wanted a moment with the star.

You found yourself in environments with the rich whose beauty, wealth and status seemed far out of your reach.

Sukuna found himself being treated more like an object than a person.

And yet, you both seemed to be settling down into your own versions of the life you were creating - always weaving the other person in no matter the obstacle.

At twenty-eight, Sukuna had earned more money than he could even imagine, and was still somehow only moving onwards and up. He was plastered on every magazine cover, was the the center of attention on social media by his most dedicated and loyal fans. He was stalked and obsessed over, admired and feared. Networks wanted to feature him on shows, movies and every talk show. The man was a composition of everything that people were projecting onto him.

He had become an untouchable to the eyes of every living mortal.

But to you, and just you - he would always be the little boy who was far too small for this big world.

After years of flings with influencers, models, and high end socialites - it seemed that Sukuna was finally settling down with one of the top actresses in the industry. The moment the two of them were caught kissing at a party, their secret was revealed to the public.

You, however, knew all the details of the ways in which Sukuna was slowly wooing her.

At this point you’ve both grown tolerant of hearing about the other person’s love life. And at this time especially, you weren’t affected by Sukuna’s first serious relationship because you and your boyfriend were discussing the possibility of marriage which felt close on the horizon. You had just bought your first house, and was considering the big gesture of having him move in with you. You had gotten an incredible promotion at work, and for the first time you felt a sense of stability that you had never really experienced before.

“We should have dinner together!” You offered one night to Sukuna over the phone.

“The four of us?” He questioned.

“Yeah, I mean…you know Sousuke really well…”

“Yeah, and he hates me…”

“But I haven’t met Mei yet…and no, Sousuke doesn’t “hate you”…”

“I hate to break it to you, Princess. But the guy can’t stand me…”

You glanced towards your boyfriend who was sitting on the sofa, his attention on the television show he was watching. You stepped away from the living room, and quietly made your way to the bedroom.

“’kuna…” you spoke, your throat catching, “I think…I think he might propose…”

“What?!” He exclaimed and you had to pull the phone away.

“Jeez! Don’t shout! You’re going to make me pop an ear drum!”

He groaned.

You sighed, “we’ve been talking about it…and I just…I just really want you guys to get along is all. I just think you guys are just not seeing eye to eye…”

Sukuna remained oddly quiet on the phone.

“Can you say something?” You begged.

“Fine,” he grumbled, “we can do dinner at my place. The paparazzi have been hounding me trying to get any shot they can find of me and Mei. I would rather we don't go anywhere public...”

You smiled, “dinner is perfect!”

At first glance, the dinner seemed like a complete success.

The four of you chatted and enjoyed your night like you were all old friends, especially after Sousuke got over his starstruck moment when he met Mei. You and Sukuna told stories of your years together, inviting your partners to the pieces of your lives that you both shared. You could see that Sukuna was clearly attracted to Mei, and in turn he could see that you were happy with Sousuke. The night felt like a convergence without an implosion - an easy going settlement on the two roads that you and your friend had taken.

That’s why when your boyfriend called things off with you three months later, it took you completely by surprise.

Nothing in this world could have prepared you for that heartbreak.

It was a grieving period, a dark time of mourning that had you glued to your bed most days. This life that you had been carefully piecing together toppled like dominos. After breaking the news to Sukuna, you spent two weeks isolating yourself from anything and everything else.

Your best friend couldn’t stand seeing you in this state, and showed up at your door out of the blue one evening.

You burst into tears at the sight of him.

He was there to mend your broken heart, and he never left your side. He told his team that he was taking a much needed break, and during that time made sure that you were fed and comfortable. He handled any extra chores, slept on the floor in your bedroom every night so that you weren’t alone. He spent hours with you in silence while you wept, listened to you angrily vent your frustrations on how your ex could treat you this way.

One night, he woke up and realized that you weren’t in bed. He searched for you, finding you in the kitchen staring at a small pile of bridal magazines.

Your clothes were rumpled, you hadn’t changed or freshened up since that morning.

Sukuna didn’t say anything, just placed two hands on your shoulders and turn you away from the painful memories.

You gasped and hiccuped into his chest.

“I couldn’t sleep…” you explained, “I r-remembered that I still had these, and just…just wanted them gone…”

Sukuna tenderly stroked the back of your neck. “You know,” he said, his voice deeper than the ocean itself, the tone the texture of velvet. “I can always break his fucking legs…”

The comment made you choke out a laugh.

“It’ll ruin your career,” you whimpered. “It’s not worth it…”

“For you,” he soothed, his thumb lightly tracing the space where the base of your neck and spine connected. “It’s always worth it”

₊ ⊹ .

The blunder in Sukuna’s career hit early last year, when his relationship with Mei fell apart and resulted in one of the worst break ups that people have ever seen. Mei released a public, viral video that had millions of views and thousands of shares. She accused Sukuna of cheating for the entirety of their two year relationship, crying crocodile tears on camera over how she was simply another trophy that he could successfully claim while his heart always belonged to someone else.

That video made your blood boil.

You knew Sukuna wasn’t perfect - but if there was one thing you would never doubt about that man it was his loyalty.

You saw it towards grandfather, to Yuji, to Uraume, and even yourself.

That man scoffed at the prospect of cheating, believing it to be a cowardice act.

And Sukuna was no coward.

Even in prior relationships, he was always clear about where he stood. If he couldn’t commit to something, he made it perfectly known. You still didn’t know what it was about Mei that had him finally let his walls down. But when they were together, he looked perfectly content. Every desire and every fantasy he dreamt up in his youth had finally been accomplished. But all you knew about their break up was that things weren’t working out, and Sukuna wasn’t willing to share more than that.

You were being respectful of his privacy, understanding firsthand how tough this kind of heartbreak can be.

He called you when the Mei's video first broke out, his voice strained.

“You know it’s not true, right?” He questioned before even saying hello.

“Ryo, of course I know that-”

“I’m not a little bitch who would cheat. I would never do that. Nor am I that fucking stupid thinking I would ever get away with it-”

“I know…” you reassured, hearing the apprehension laced through his words. “Ryomen, I know you. I know you better than anyone else in this world.”

He breathed a long sigh of relief. “I was just wondering if you might have been convinced otherwise”

Your stomach tightened.

“But if you believe me, then I don’t give a fuck about anyone else.”

Something about that conversation clung onto you, it sat like a weight on your shoulders that you couldn’t quite possibly shrug off. The tabloids, news outlets and social media accounts were throwing ingredients upon ingredients into the rumor pot that was bubbling and boiling over. On top of that, a new rising star had just entered the boxing world, and Sukuna was suddenly dealing with brutal comparisons to the younger, hotter talent that was Satoru Gojo.

You were the one who offered to take him out to dinner to get his mind off of things, not realizing just how bad it actually was for him.

When a gossip magazine posted the photos of you both huddled together (as you have done many times before) while having an ordinary dinner, it spun your world inside and out. Though the pictures were quite blurry, there were a few people who were able to recognize you. You were being harassed at your work, interrogated by your friends and were even being accused of being “the other woman”.

The worst part is was when Mei fed into the chaos, making a follow up post and stating that “a woman always knows, and is always right” in regards to her break up situation with Sukuna.

She may not have explicitly said it, but her fingers were pointing at you.

You don’t know how your address got leaked, but when you started finding paparazzi stalking you in your own home it became far too much for you to handle.

Sukuna, on the other hand, was infuriated.

This whole time he was disengaged by what was going on, but once you were caught in the mix of this mess, it seemed that he was suddenly ready to cause equal destruction.

He sued his ex for defamation, sued multiple media outlets for harassment. He had Higuruma Hiromi, one of the top lawyers in his field, at the helm of this take down, and the second he shot back, it had everyone scurrying in retreat.

The tabloids, blogs and magazines all redacted the photos of you, reducing your digital footprint.

His ex, under pressure of Sukuna’s threats, came out with a public apology so that he would drop the charges against her and help her avoid her own PR nightmare.

The rest of Sukuna’s anger was taken out on the ring, with people seeing another side of what The King could unleash.

His match against Hajime Kashimo was one of the bloodiest in boxing history, his opponent left crimson and defeated despite seemingly holding a strong front in the beginning.

They dubbed him: “The Monster of The Ring” after that.

The damage was already done, and the stress of it all was starting to hurt Sukuna’s focus. When he nearly got disqualified in a match, that is when Uraume intervened, and felt it was necessary to include you in the discussion.

You’ve always had a complicated relationship with Uraume. They respected you, but you know it’s only because of your mutual relationship with Sukuna. Uraume, however, has made snide remarks towards you when you were both alone - about how you were merely a distraction when dangled in front of his champion’s eyes.

“I think some time apart would do you both good,” they said. “They are never going to stop hounding you because they think there is something more going on, and besides…we can’t have Sukuna fucking up with Gojo now in the mix. We need to show the world that he’s still as strong and as relevant as ever…”

“It’ll die down,” Sukuna stated with frustration.

The both of them bickered over it. It was the first time you have ever witnessed them in a heated exchanged. Your heart started to hurt because you were aware how all of this was only making your best friend see in shades of red.

He wasn’t himself.

He wasn’t thinking clearly.

This was impacting him.

You getting involved in this was impacting him.

“Ryomen,” you said seriously, placing your hand over his. “I think Uraume is right…”

The man turned to you, his fingers lacing between your own subconsciously as he squeezed it tightly in disbelief.

It was the first time you’ve ever seen him hurt.

“It’s just a short time apart,” you said with a comforting smile, “once everyone gets bored we can resume our lives in peace. But right now, I can see this taking a toll on you…”

He furrowed the front of his brows.

“Uraume is looking out for you, and I think what they are saying makes sense. Don’t you?”

“No, I fucking don’t…” he snapped, his eyes glaring at his manager who remained stoic as ever.

“Don’t let your emotions get the better of you,” they remarked, “I know a part of you agrees with what I have to say.”

“You’re not in the right state of mind, and you need to be”

“It’s for your own good,” Uraume insisted. "You are gambling with your career. With your legacy"

The decision was mutual but entirely heartbreaking all the same. Sukuna drew the circus away, and it broke you when you realized that in order to protect you, he had to sacrifice something in return.

The comfort of your friendship, the sanctuary of your company.

It was the price of fame, and one that he was willing to keep paying.

As a result of this tough decision, Sukuna had grown cold. Not because he was being mean or cruel, but because he thought he was offering you some peace of mind. Because he thought that by withdrawing from you, it would make the pain of the separation easier. He wanted this distance to be a clean break for the both of you, and while he honored keeping in touch, it was just at the bare minimum because his calls and texts were few and far between.

The most you saw of him was on a screen, and you could see that Sukuna was miserable.

He was turning into something vicious in the ring, a violent machine that people glorified. He wasn’t moving with the fluidity of an artist that you used to admire when you first started watching him fight. There was a sense of brutality that was now a part of his make up.

Sukuna was no longer a man, he was a beast.

His persona was dwindling into only intimidation. Every interview, every guest appearance, and every social occasion was met with detachments or disinterest. He was growing snarky and irritable, no longer willing to charm the people around him.

Satoru Gojo was the first to shoot at Sukuna with his words, dredging up his painful break up and even dragging you back into the fold with his commentary. The two of them grew to have a very intense rivalry. They exchanged heated arguments on social media, smack talked the other person in live interviews and had tense interactions in public.

The press and the people were eating up every single second of it.

On the eve of his thirty-first birthday, you received a call from Uraume.

“We are back in the city,” they said, “Sukuna needs to start training up for his match against Satoru Gojo.”

You swallowed the uncomfortable lump in your throat.

“Why didn’t he tell me he was back?” You asked softly.

Uraume sighed, “I don’t have to tell you that he’s been in a fowl mood. The agency is throwing a huge birthday party for him tonight which he is refusing to attend…”

“So, why are you calling me?”

“Because…” Uraume sighed, “he’s about to fly to close to the sun, and I can see he needs an anchor to bring him down to Earth a little bit…”

Your cheeks burned at the statement. “Are you saying I am his anchor?”

“I am saying it’s been almost a year since he last saw you…” Uraume explained, “And I don’t want him feeling awful on his birthday. I care about him too, you know?”

You nodded your head, “No, of course. I know that.”

“I told him that I would stop by to pick him up for the party, but I think giving him a nice surprise might do him so good. Remind the guy to enjoy himself a little…”

“You’re sweet,” you said with a smile.

“As are you, my dear,” Uraume replied tenderly.

“My, my, are you actually giving me a compliment?”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” they remarked playfully, and you felt a hint of ease realizing that things might not be as cold between you both as you thought.

That Uraume was really only ever considering Sukuna's well being first, just like you.

₊ ⊹ .

Uraume made sure that you got to Sukuna’s place in one piece and without anyone knowing that you were even there. You clasped your best friend's present between your fingers, your exposed body shivering from the cold air as you rode the elevator up to his penthouse apartment.

It felt right to dress up; you wore a white mini dress with a mesh overlay that had little embroidered detailing on the fabric. There were cut outs in the back, with an adjustable strap from behind cinching the bodice perfectly to your shape. Your kitten heels clicked against the floor, the nerves suddenly tingling their way up your legs as you thought about what Sukuna’s reaction might even be.

This year felt like a century in the timeline of your friendship.

You knocked on his door gently, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

You could hear the trudge of footsteps from behind the frame, Sukuna’s voice bellowing as he spoke.

“Uraume, for the last fucking time, I told you I am not going, and if you force it I will fire you on the spot-”

He swung the door open and froze.

“Surprise!” You squeaked lightly, awkwardly lifting the gift in your hands. “I got you a present!”

Sukuna blinked once and then twice, his lips parting as if he’s seen a ghost.

“Uraume asked me to come,” you explained. “They told me that you guys were back…”

He stood there dumbfounded, for once rendered completely speechless.

You cleared your throat, feeling a warmth rippling over your skin as the man gave you a once over. His eyes flickered down your body, hovering over all the parts of your exposed skin. Your bare thighs, your décolletage, and up the nape of your neck.

“T-they wanted you to have fun on your birthday,” you added on with an apprehensive grin, “they actually suggested maybe a quiet night in and thought you might just want to spend it with an old friend instead of a bunch of people you probably don’t even like…”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his mouth pressing into a firm line.

He looked…upset.

Was he not happy to see you?

“Uhm,” you mumbled, your fingers toying with the ribbon at the odd dismissal and lack of enthusiasm, “I-I don’t have to stay, but I did just want to wish you a happy birthday…”

You took a small step forward, holding the present up as an offering. “Happy birthday, ‘Kuna…” you said with a quiet warble in your voice and feeling like a complete idiot for showing up. The disappointment of his response sat heavily on your chest.

He lifted his hand, gripping the present as he plucked it out of your grasp. You cleared your throat, anxiously scratching the back of your ear as you lifted up the strap of your dress which fell on your right shoulder.

“I’ll just…” you added on in defeat, gesturing behind you to indicate that you were leaving.

You didn’t even notice his arm sling behind your waist when your eyes fell downcast.

Suddenly you were pulled over the threshold, the door closing behind you in a bang before your back was pressed up against the wooden frame. Your gaze lifted up to Sukuna, your pupils widening when you you were met with his menacing stare.

“You know,” you said with a gulp, hoping to the ease the tension as you tried to catch your breath. “You really do look like a dragon when you scowl like that…”

“Are you stupid?” He spat with irritation. “What if someone saw you come over? We just got the press off our backs…”

Your pulse hit the base of your throat. “Uraume ensured that no one was around…”

“I thought we agreed to take time apart…” he argued, ignoring your words. “You agreed.”

“You’re mad...” You pointed out, the tip of your nose wincing as you pursed your lips.

“I’m not mad, I’m furious…” he said with irritation. “I’m trying to keep you out of this fucking chaos and you just waltz in, in this sorry excuse of a dress, like everything is perfectly fine?!”

You looked down at your outfit, and folded your arms over your chest.

“I…” you spoke, your voice trailing off as your shoulders slumped.

You didn’t even know if you should apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong and this wasn’t even your idea to begin with. You’ve also never seen Sukuna speak to you this way before, and your confidence bubbled when you recognized that this...wasn’t him.

You straightened your back, tilting your chin up to face him with defiance.

You’re the only person in the world who willingly challenges him.

You don’t even have to raise a fist to watch him break.

He was pushing you away, the same way he did when you found him on the ground of that kindergarten because that’s what Sukuna does when he’s hurting the most.

“God, you’re just as miserable as look…” you pointed out with a quirk of your brow.

His jaw twitched.

“I don’t give a shit who catches me here,” you boldly claimed, “I miss my best friend…” you added before shoving his shoulder, “and you, you asshole, have no excuse for not telling me that you are back home. Just because I agreed to us spending some time apart, that doesn’t mean you get to just...cut me off like that. To not call me, to barely answer my texts, and to just push me away like I don’t matter to you…”

Sukuna winced, taking a step closer to seal the gap of space between you both. He brought his head lower, dipping his forehead to press against your own. Your spine seized in that moment, your lips parting feeling the heat of his breath on your skin.

You were expecting a rebuttal, but this…this wasn’t what you thought would happen.

“You are a pain in my ass…” he whispered, closing his eyes as he circled his free arm around your waist, “and the only thing that matters to me…”

He nudged his face closer, so close you swore to yourself that he might kiss you, before tracking his lips along your jaw and cradling his forehead in the crook of your neck instead.

Your right hand moved him to touch his shoulder, your face contorting with a hint of concern.

You felt it then, something wet on your skin where his forehead lay, and you took in a sharp breath as Sukuna tightened his arm around your waist.

“You shouldn’t have come…” he took a deep inhale against your neck, smelling your skin before clearing his throat from any shakiness.

“You said that already…” you grumbled unamused.

“Stubborn woman, you never listen...” he breathed in once more, “God, I fucking missed you.”

₊ ⊹ .

Sukuna opened his present once everything was settled, and once he finally embraced the reunion without questioning any other factors. He laughed at your little DIY stress kit that you put together for him. You both ordered in pizza, sitting on opposite sides of the sofa with the open cardboard box between you. You talked, and talked, and talked into the late hours of the night. Until there were only crumbs on the bottom of the box which Sukuna placed on the coffee table. The bottle of champagne that you have both been nursing was nearly empty.

Drunk on each other, with a belly full of food and simplistic joy settling in. Sukuna leaned against the arm rest, sprawling his long legs and patting his thigh sweetly.

“C’mere…”

Your heart hammered, and you bit the rim of your champagne glass before obliging.

You stood up, swaying a little and watching his hungry eyes blatantly check you out as you sat on his lap. Sukuna adjusted his position, before dropping his palm on your thigh, his touch stroking up and down your skin.

“What’s going on with you?” You inquired, placing your elbow on his shoulder as you rested your warm cheek against your palm.

You were looking at him with concern, noticing his face sink.

He rubbed one hand over the exhausted expression, an intoxicated blush painting his cheeks.

“The press are worse than ever. After Mei, it’s been…relentless. The stories they are coming up with, the things that they are saying about me. I went from being on top of the world to being the guy everyone loves to fucking hate. And with every fight I go into, people are just waiting for me to wash up. The cherry on top of this whole fucking thing is Satoru Gojo, who won’t stop running his fucking mouth. I want cut the little shit in half…”

You smiled, not to be condescending, but out of gratitude that you both easily slipped back into the shell of your own comfort. “Ryomen, he’s twenty-one years old. Do you not remember how you were at that age?”

He rolled his eyes. “I had more class than he did…”

“But you were aggressive,” you reminded, “You weren’t afraid to tear down the legends that predated you.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that maybe Satoru drew inspiration from somewhere…”

You placed the champagne glass on his chest, your fingers holding the stem as you swirled the liquid around gently. The silence hung in the air because Sukuna knew you were right, but there were other lingering questions pressing you at the same time. And thanks to the alcohol, you had all the courage you needed to ask.

“What happened with Mei?” You wondered, shifting your gaze to meet his.

Sukuna’s index finger tapped up and down your thigh in contemplation.

He closed his eyes and shook his head before swallowing the lump in his throat. “Nothing.”

You quirked your brow again, taking a swig of your champagne.

Sukuna used his free hands to wrap around your own, and he pulled the glass away from you to take a sip himself.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

He chugged the rest of your drink, and placed it on the ground beside him.

“Ryomen…”

“Don’t push me, brat…”

“But why not?” You wondered, “I just…it just seemed like you both were so happy and then all of a sudden…”

He dropped his head back against the arm rest and stared up at the ceiling. From underneath his black shirt you saw the silver chain poking through.

Your heart tightened.

You drew one hand on the locket, your finger curling underneath as your thumb tracked over the texture of the necklace.

“You’re still wearing it…” you mumbled.

Sukuna faced you. “I never take it off. Only when I have to get in the ring…” His eyes shifted to your exposed, naked neck, and you mindlessly reached for the silver chain that you were currently not wearing.

“I don’t wear it on certain occasions…” you explained guiltily, “only because I am afraid that I might lose it.”

“Plus, it wouldn’t go with this dress...” Sukuna nonchalantly added on and you laughed at his comment.

He sighed in defeat. “The necklace was a small reason,” he opened up. “Mei hated that I wore it all the time. She would badger me about taking it off. The time I spent with you after Sousuke didn’t help…” he added, treading the delicate topic with as much sensitivity as he could, “she accused me for cheating. I told her she needed to back off because you and I had a history that predates her. I told her that if the roles were reversed, you would be there for me because you have always been there for me…”

Your body froze.

“She would pick fights with me over everything about you. Finally I had enough, and told her she needed to fucking trust me if this was going to work. But things never went back to the way they used to. It was always up and down with Mei. Finally, when she had enough, she told me that I had a choice to make. Either I cut you off for us to happily together. Or…she leaves…”

You sat up, staring at him with wide eyes and shock.

“I’m…” you gasped, “I’m the reason why you both broke up?”

The guilt struck you harder than you expected, and you looked down at Sukuna’s torso shamefully as you recalled the state of yourself post-break up, thinking of all the moments where you might have potentially stolen precious time away from his former lover.

“Ryomen, I am so…I am so sorry…”

Two fingers brushed underneath your chin, and Sukuna lifted your head so you could see him.

“I picked you,” he confessed, “I picked you.”

“But-”

“There is no “but”,” he said with a shake of his. “We’ve been in each other’s lives for over two decades. You are my person. You are my family. You…”, he sighed, “you didn’t deserve what happened afterwards...”

His hands trailed up until his digits caught the hem of your dress.

“I’m keeping my distance to protect you..."

“But you loved her,” you gasped, “I saw it. I saw you both. I would’ve…I would’ve stepped aside. If I was causing any issues, I would’ve…respected your boundaries. I love you, Ryomen. I just want you to be happy, and if that means that I take a step back-”

“I did love her,” Sukuna interjected, the heat of gaze flicking upward, the rims slightly red from the alcohol he consumed. “But I love you more…”

He drew all the air out of your lungs with the slip of his tongue, making you perch yourself up so you were actually looking directly at him. His pupils were dilated, widening as if to give you access to the depths of his soul. In all your years you’ve known him, you don’t think the two of you ever actually exchanged those words. It was always veiled with “I care for you,”, “I adore you,” “You’re my person,” and “this is why we are best friends.”

But love…

That felt forbidden to say out loud, even though you both knew that the root of your friendship was only built on love, it shouldn't have come as such a shock to you for the confession to slip so naturally.

You gaze longingly into each other’s eyes, in a way that you haven’t since you were both sixteen years old.

Wondering…

Considering…

“I don’t…” you said quietly, sitting upright as he shifted beneath you.

You wound up straddling him, both your hands resting on his shoulders while his own continued to tease the hem of your dress.

“I don’t know what to say…” you exhaled.

Sukuna pinched the fabric between his thumb and index finger, allowing the silence to hang for a few minutes before switching the subject.

“Did you dress up for me?” He joked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his devilish mouth. He slid one hand underneath your dress, making you gasp as his touch moved dangerously high up your thigh.

“Wanted to look cute,” you murmured, your words lacing tightly together as the champagne danced across your tongue. You felt a pulse radiate between your legs, and you unknowingly clenched much to Sukuna’s amusement.

“Cute for me?” He coaxed.

“Cute in general,” you remarked.

His other hand sprawled across your back, and you knew he was testing his boundaries.

“Ryomen…” you warned, but it only made him break out into a full grin. His irises were drowning in lust and inebriation, and your own were falling in suit.

The hand on your hip dragged up further, until his fingers brushed over the string of your underwear. You scratched your nails down his chest, feeling your back arch into his palm as you mindlessly rolled your hips.

His lips moved to your ear, that mellifluous voice dangerously close. “Let’s play a game…”

He squeezed the fat of your hip, his weight lifting you up and the entire room spun as he pinned you underneath him when he switched your positions. He locked you against the plush sofa with his thighs, a throaty laugh coming through from your sudden squeak of surprise.

“Let’s see you try to get out of this one, Princess...” He teased, his teeth nipping at the side of your throat. “Or you’ll end up being my dinner…”

Your body vibrated from the sensation of his touch. You gripped his jaw firmly and pulled his face towards you, your brows furrowing at the proclamation of a challenge.

“It’s not fair to go against a boxing champion,” you argued, your spine curving as Sukuna slipped his other thigh between your legs.

He dropped his head to the base of your throat, his teeth catching the sensitive spot just above your collar bone, “don’t worry,” he soothed over the gentle bite, “I’ll play fair…”

“Don’t patronize me,” you grumbled through gritted teeth.

“You’re fault for waltzing into the dragon’s lair…” he alerted, quoting the very same line he used to when you would both play this silly fantasy game together.

But you’re not wielding plastic swords and entering into the enemies domain with a sense of courage. Now, it felt like playing with fire. Your skin was burning at the contact, at Sukuna’s weight over your throbbing body. When he nibbled on your neck again, your hand gripped onto the back of his head, tugging his hair a little roughly as you pulled him away.

Sukuna purred.

“You’ve never been able to beat me…” you teased, giving into the world of make believe just one more time but speaking the truth regarding this fact. “I’ve always been your biggest challenge…”

“Watch me win tonight,” he pushed with confidence, reaching for your wrist and pinning it above your head.

“And what are the rules here exactly?” You quipped, your tongue tingling and your body buzzing with excitement and curiosity. “Am I supposed to kill the dragon and win back my castle?”

Sukuna laughed, his eyes darkening as he pressed his forehead to yours once more.

“No need to draw any swords. Let’s play a game of submission…” he boldly claimed, and your attention flickered to find his brazen smile burning even brighter on his face. “First person to cum loses”

“Are you making a move on me?” You light heartedly disputed.

“Not at all,” Sukuna maintained, but you can tell from his tone that he’s veiling the truth.

There was something hard pressing up against you, and you had a feeling it was a nudge for some relief.

“It’s the dress isn’t it?” you giggle.

“If you even call it a dress…”

“Can’t handle a little skin?”

“I don’t want to shock you by telling you got me half hard just showing up,” he confessed, something unfolding in your drunken stupor.

“I can feel you…” you sighed, and the man hummed as he molded his body into you.

You felt him twitch, and it made your thighs tremble.

“We had too much champagne,” you informed.

“That we did”

“We should probably stop…” you exhaled, your lashes fluttering when you felt his thigh flex against your cunt.

“Do you want to?” Sukuna asks, his voice growing serious. His hand on your hip tugs at the string of your underwear, and he releases it with a snap as it pinches back against your skin.

You licked your lips, your brain too fuzzy to contradict what your heart wanted. “You know I will never back down from a challenge with you…”

“That's what I like about you,” Sukuna adoringly praises.

“And we both know you’re going to lose, right?”

Your throat shrinks, Sukuna’s hand gliding over your pubis to press the drenched spot against your underwear.

“Don’t underestimate me, Princess,” he advices ominously, “we’ve never played a game like this before.”

₊ ⊹ .

Clothes had to stay on - that was the rule you both agreed with.

To keep things fair.

To keep it…playful.

Your nipples pebbled, poking hard against the fabric of your dress as Sukuna sucked on the skin of your neck. You knew for a fact that he was leaving a mark there, and all you could do was bite back as his mouth trailed down the column and over the slope of your breast. You whimpered when he tugged at your clothed nipple with with his teeth, making the muscles in your leg seize from the sudden contact.

You had to do something, and so you reached your hand between your legs to lightly graze over his erection pressing against his sweats.

Sukuna groaned, and you sniggered at the reaction.

You lifted your head and neck, bringing your mouth to his own ear.

“You know,” you seductively stated, your fingers outlining the length of his hard member. “The first time I ever touched myself was after watching you practice in the ring…”

Sukuna cursed under his breath, your fingers squeezed around his length. You proceeded to stroke the heat of his member, striking hard for your first blow. “And I always do whenever I watch you fight. I get so hot and bothered seeing you in the ring. I even have a a specific vibrator I use…I named it after you…”

“Fucking hell,” he hissed when you snuck your hand underneath his waistband, bringing your touch even closer as you palmed him over his boxers.

“I’ve never told you that secret…” you declared, bringing your own teeth to his earlobe which you tugged mercilessly.

Sukuna lost himself for a moment, making you think this was going to be an easy win. But you heard him steady his breathing, could his muscles flexing as if to tame his own body back from giving in.

“I heard you once…” he stammered suddenly, closing his eyes as he recollected his memories. “Back when you were living in the dorm. I came over to drop off something, and you…ugh, fuck-…you were in the bathroom…moaning. I thought you were in pain at first, until I realized…”

Your own cheeks burned at his confession, the surprise making you ease your grip.

Sukuna grabbed your wrist then and pulled you away from his crotch. He placed it on your breast, and you absentmindedly pinched your nipple as he slid his hand between your legs. He lowered himself down, slithering underneath you and making your ears sting with vexation. He pushed your dress over your thighs, exposing your light colored underwear. The noticeable wet patch made his eyes glitter with satisfaction.

“I would have jacked off on the spot, but I left. I was clearly intruding on a private matter, but that didn’t stop me from blowing a load the second I made it to my place,” he carries on, bringing his nose and pressing it against your slit. “So fucking sweet…”

You tried to push his head away, and in response he dragged his tongue over the moist patch on your underwear.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, your hips bucking from the sensation.

“You’re the first person I think of when I touch myself,” he revealed, humming as his tongue lewdly licked over your underwear.

Your whole lower belly tingled, your arousal only slicking the fabric.

You needed to distract him from carrying on, but Sukuna hooked two fingers underneath your underwear and tugged them to the side.

You sat up on your forearms, pressing your thighs against his cheeks to stop him from diving in.

“Don’t cheat,” you sternly addressed, but Sukuna only scoffed vindictively.

“You’re still wearing them, Princess…” he pointed out, and the loophole made your core pulse with anticipation. “This isn’t cheating…”

With your panties tugged aside, Sukuna used two fingers to spread the lips apart.

He was staring at your pussy, studying it like it was the first one he’s ever looked at.

You wanted to say something, to ask what he was doing. But to your surprise he just placed a gentle kiss on your clit before murmuring sweetly into your sex. “You’re beautiful,” Sukuna complimented, as if expressing a blessing before a meal then finally dragging his wet tongue up along the slit of your exposed pussy.

“You’re ch-cheating…” was all you could think of blubbering out in the haze of lust, feeling the vibration of his laugh as he slung one of your legs over his shoulder.

It hits you then - the fact that this man indulges in going down on women. Though he never explicitly shared all the lewd details with his past partners, he did mention how it was “his favorite thing to do”. After all these years, you finally get to experience it for yourself. Feel how he latches onto your pussy as your arousal drips like he’s pouring honey out of the jar and slurping the sticky, creamy essence. You whine when he prods his tongue between your folds, expertly sliding the muscle as he rolls it in gentle waves to stir a budding orgasm. Your fingers intertwine around his locks, reading to yank him off until he slurps and sucks in just the right spot that has you simply massaging his scalp instead.

“…’kuna~…” you mewl, your nails dragging over his scalp.

The man circles his mouth over your tender clit, sucking on the bud before pressing another kiss on the nub.

Your pussy throbs when he pulls away, but you were proud for holding back.

It was your opportunity to distract him, and you shrugged off one of your straps to pull down your dress to expose your left breast. Sukuna’s attention flickered upward, watching you tweak at the hard nub as you gave him a shy grin.

“The felt really good,” you breathily whined.

He began crawling his way back up, and you used this opportunity to lift your body upright. He was distracted, wasn't even thinking about you finding a way out of this position. His lips instantly latched onto your nipple, his hands gripping the fat of your ass as he sucked on the point feverishly.

You licked your lips, doing everything in your power not to fall back into the black hole of his gripping dominance.

When he released you, you instantly pushed his back against the couch and climbed on top of him so you were safely straddling him again. You forcefully dragged your wet cunt over his erection, leaving a little trail of you to stain the fabric of his pants. Sukuna grunted with pleasure, bucking his hips as you ground yours.

“You’re not as sharp with me,” you giggled, languidly gliding your cunt over his begging member.

“Because you’re fucking distracting,” Sukuna grieves, his hands clenching into tight balls by his side as he refuses to grab onto your ass and push for more friction.

You felt him sink, using his shoulders as leverage to keep you perched in just the right position so your pussy was rubbing over his cock. You bit back a sound of pleasure from leaving you, and instead exhale softly as you continue rocking back and forth.

“You’re big everywhere aren’t you,” you tantalized, noting the way his jaw tense as a rumble erupted from his chest in a deep groan which morphed into a slightly sinister laugh.

“Let me show you.”

He lifted his hips, making you pause at the sudden awkward shift. He pushed his sweat pants down just to meet the end of his boxers. The removal of the first layer was a small relief, but your eyes widened as he settled back down. His erection was tenting, pressing up against the thin black material and making you see a clear distinction of his balls and thick shaft.

“Go on then,” he tempted.

Your could feel yourself getting wet. The tightness in your belly only contracting further.

You stared him down, knowing full well that he was manipulating you at that very moment.

“Why stop there?” You rebutted.

You helped pulled out the weight of his heavy cock from the restraint, watching his length smack against his lower belly as the tip dribbled with cum. Sukuna moaned when your thumb pressed against the slit, your touch dragging back and forth as you aligned yourself.

The sounds of your panting breaths were far too loud in this quiet room. You hesitated for a minute before lowering yourself, pressing the fat tip at your entrance. You gulped down air from the stretch alone, your arousal enough lubricant for your take him. You sank, your attention on Sukuna’s whose eyes were honed in on the point of contact of your sexes.

When your pelvis finally kiss his own, when your bodies were merged into one, you felt two hands seek your waist as you trembled in his arms.

Your dress had fallen back over, covering him buried inside you. You were looking up at him now as his chest rose to press yours.

A puzzle piece finally connecting.

He twitched inside you, and you clenched around his length, but neither of you moved. You forgot, for a moment, that this was just a game. That the two of you were probably going to wake up tomorrow morning not being able to face the other person. Your heart was racing, your body begging for movement but you couldn’t snap yourself out of the bold decision you already made.

Sukuna was looking deep into our eyes, the sparkle behind his own irises making you think of embers on winter night.

His hands slipped up your waist, over the curves of your breast and up on the length of your neck. He held your head between his palms, the tips of his thumbs lightly caressing your cheeks, with his fingers to the back of your neck. He tilted his head down slightly, his nose brushing against the bridge of yours and he did something that caught you entirely off guard.

His lips were warm on yours, the kiss the softest gesture you’ve ever experienced from him. He held a firm kiss at first, long enough until you were crumbling apart. You parted your mouth, granting him entrance and he swiped his tongue to lick the inside. He was tracing your own, his wet and wanting mouth only growing more hungry as you eagerly accepted his kiss. Your heart hammered heavily in your chest, and goosebumps peaked all over your skin when you felt his thumbs gently caress the soft skin of your cheeks.

You’ve never been kissed like this before. Never felt bursts of light erupt from behind your eyelids or your stomach explode with fireworks. This always just fun foreplay for you, but nothing that would make you quiver in heat. You almost came on the spot from this one little act that you’ve imagined since you were sixteen, the one which you thought would never occur because of an unspoken rule on boundaries. But it was finally happening, and it was far too magical for you to even comprehend.

He swallowed your moan, tasted how sweet your desire actually was. The kiss was getting heated, your walls tightening around his cock His lips wrapped around your tongue. He sucked on it, before sliding his own back over yours.

You felt so weak; were reminded that you truly were just a fragile thing in his arms and nothing more.

He pulled away, a string of saliva sticking from his lips to yours but you shook your head as you circled your hands around his wrists.

“More,” you cried desperately without thinking.

Sukuna smiled against your mouth and obliged.

You don’t know how long you both sat there making out. But every time he tried to pull you away you sighed “again,”, or moaned “don’t stop”. You didn’t even consider kissing to be an option on the table, but the more you were getting turned on the further your guard went down. Your hips started to bounce lightly, your pussy so bothered that it wanted some relief. You started fucking yourself over his length, your mouth battling with lips, teeth and tongue in a very heated stand off. Sukuna relaxed his body against the sofa, noticing you melt over him like you were wax. Your hips were moving up and down, your tongue languidly rolling around his mouth. You could feel Sukuna moving with you, bucking his hips in return. His jerks were growing sharper, his hands dropping back down to your hips to keep you in place. Your foreheads were touching, lips parting, panting heavily as you climbed and higher. The two of you were lost in the moment, forgetting everything else that led up to this.

You were going to lose this one, you thought, and you didn’t even care.

Your head was spinning, your heart bursting, and you reached to hold his jaw in your hand out of desperation, hoping that by clinging to him it meant that you wouldn’t disappear into the haze of it all. Entirely overwhelmed by the feeling, by this particular connection, your eyes started to water, with tears falling as your nose grew stuffy.

“Ryomen~” you begged, your dulcet voice full of affection. The tip of his cock hit your sweetest spot and at that point you knew you were done for.

But Sukuna jerked his hips, the groan that ripped out of him made your belly spasm. He pulled out fast, shooting his cum all over you. Your orgasm collapsed into you just seconds after, and the two of you were shaking against one another as you tried to reorient yourselves to the present.

You were a mess, and so was he.

Two hands found your thighs as your torso collided into his. You placed one hand on the base of his neck, and rested your cheek against the crook.

“You lost,” you joked with a sniffle, because you were unsure what to say, and because you realized you had just fucked your best friend and had no idea what that meant.

Sukuna just grinned, flashing you a knowing smile and a devilish smirk.

He perched your chin under his fingers, tapping the end sweetly.

“Doesn’t feel like I did,” he breathed, and your eyes glittered once more.

You arched up to kiss his cheek, “I didn’t know a dragon could kiss this well…”

Sukuna chuckled, bumping the tip of his nose to yours affectionately as he tilted his head down. “I’ve had time to practice.”

You sighed into another kiss, “What did we do, Ryomen?”

“Something we should have done a long time ago…” he responded in between.

“You love me…” you breathed.

“And you’re surprised?” He interrupted with another kiss.

“I don’t know what that means…”

He nipped at your bottom lip. “It means what it means. I love you. Fuck, enough that I nearly fucking came inside you without thinking. You haven’t been around and I feel like I've lost my goddamn mind in just a year…”

Your nails dragged down his chest your heart leaping its way up your throat.

“I love you too,” you revealed. “I love you, Ryomen. And I missed you too."

You both fell asleep on the sofa, waking up the next morning and replaying the events of your drunken stupor. After you both cleaned up and showered, you had a serious conversation over two cups of coffee. Though, you aren’t quite sure how "serious" it was, considering that Sukuna had you sitting on his lip while you were gently stroking his hair.

He revealed that the reason why he didn’t tell you about his return was also partially due to the fact that he was leaving that very night to hop on plane and fly halfway across the world. He couldn't bring himself to see you for only a short stint when he knew he needed far more time together after everything.

“Uraume is right,” he bitterly admitted, “You are a big distraction for me right now, and I have to be in the right headspace for this fight with Gojo”

“You sound worried,” you pointed out with a furrow of your brows, your hands dragging back his locks as you threaded your digits between the strands to push his hair back from his forehead.

“If he beats me then I am done,” Sukuna blurted, “what I have built will diminish into nothing. I can’t lose to him. It’ll cost me my career…”

Disappointment wrapped its arms around you just as Sukuna loosened his own grip. But you could hear the hint of tiny, tiny fear behind his words was enough to you feel hollow. Sukuna has never felt threatened, but this was a serious fight for him. He’s worked so hard for all of this, and he was not willing to give it up to some punk who just shot into the scene.

“Why don’t we revisit this after the fight then?” You offered.

He glanced at you.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." you exhaled, "what if maybe we just need to wait a little longer before we allow ourselves to have this..."

Sukuna paused for a moment. “You’d wait for me?” He asked.

A smile ticks at the corner of your mouth. “Yes, because you always come back to me”

“That I do” he responds

You brush your fingers under his chin, tilting it upward once more to receive another kiss. “I’ll wait for you,” you ensure. "Because I'll always come back to you too."

₊ ⊹ .

One hand slides into the front pocket of your denim skirt, and Sukuna rests his chin on top of your head. You smile to yourself, though he can’t see it, because he’s busy watching you slice bits of fruit as you place it into one of his ceramic bowls. When you were kids, Sukuna would have to look around your arm whenever he hugged you from behind. The years show the evolution of this gesture, from him suddenly perching over your shoulder until he could simply see over your crown.

He sighs, his other arm curling over your belly as he embraces you.

“Don’t add the blueberries,” he mumbles.

You oblige, your back leaning into the breadth of his chest.

The two of you haven’t touched one another since that faithful night.

Up until the fight, you and Sukuna simply returned back to the way things used to be. Except this time there were little alterations in your day to day conversations that indicated a shift.

For one, Sukuna was a flirt.

You were use to this commentary, but now that your friendship has taken a turn you find your cheeks growing heated more often around him because his words weren't gray. What he says toward you, and the way he compliments you rings very, very true. There is also a deep tenderness for one another that you both are finally allowing to express freely. You don't dull your affection, and instead allow it to overflow. And last of all, the longing to be back together was pathetically obvious.

You placed the strawberries, sliced peaches and peeled oranges into the bowl, your fingers a little tacky. “I need to wash my hands,” you indicate, and Sukuna begrudgingly releases you from his hold.

You’re surprised that he didn’t pounce on you so quickly.

The two of you only had one other sexual moment just a few months ago.

Sukuna video called you one evening, his face tight with frustration.

He was exhausted from training, and even more drained by the press.

They were claiming that his new “pumped physique” was due to steroid use, and one little rumor had the representatives of the boxing association hounding him like he was a real culprit in this make believe story. Suddenly, his hard work and training was being reduced to the thing that the press claimed him to be: a cheater.

He called you to ensure you that everything was alright. That he was forced to take tests which all came out negative (obviously) and and effectively proved his innocence.

“I can’t wait to be home,” he breathed with annoyance. “I’m fucking sick of this shit…”

You were in the bathroom getting ready for bed, gently patting your moisturizer onto your face. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” you stated, offering him only an apology because it's all you could give. “Is there something I can do to make you feel better?”

Sukuna arched his brow, his attention hovering in front of the screen.

“Yeah, you can take off that robe you’re wearing…” he teased.

You jerked your head to the camera in surprise, noting his cheeky tone.

“Ha-ha…” you remarked.

“I’m being serious,” he answered back, his mouth dropping into an instant frown. “I’ve had a shitty day, and I can’t even do the one thing I want to help me relax…”

You arched your brow. “And what might that be?”

He revealed his canines, a wolfish grin brightening that handsome face. “Fucking my girl...”

Your heart thumped, and you swallowed the sudden tightness in your throat. You picked up your lip balm and dabbed your finger into the ointment before gliding it over your bottom lip.

“Your girl, huh?” You reiterated casually, hoping that Sukuna wouldn’t quite pick up on the catch in your throat.

“You’re always my girl, even when you weren’t mine to call that…” he added softly, his voice pulling your attention back towards him.

He wasn’t kidding around, with the look on his face entirely serious. The tips of your ears stung with a heat that you couldn’t explain, and you just had the sudden urge to reach through the screen and pull his face back towards you.

You wanted to kiss him, to tell him that you always felt like you belonged to him too.

The two of you an inseparable pair for a reason.

Instead, you stripped down to reveal your naked form. You perched the camera towards the back for a wider shot, and allowed your body to speak to Sukuna instead. One of your legs was resting on the bathroom sink, the other grounding you on the floor. You had the camera facing your cunt, with your fingers buried deep inside. But it was nothing compared to the stretch of Sukuna’s digits, wasn’t filling you enough to reach you to the pleasurable climax you desired.

“It’s not enough,” you gasped in between breaths, watching Sukuna passionately jerk off from he other side of the screen, “Need you, ‘kuna~” you whined, “it’s not enough with you…”

The memory hits you, making your lower belly tighten.

You dry your hands off to face him, only to find the man standing with an expression of guilt on his face.

The same concern you had earlier when you left the elevator reappeared once more.

You pick up the fruit bowl from the counter, trying your best not to give the discomfort attention. You offer Sukuna a strawberry, lifting it towards his mouth but he instantly circles his hand around your wrist and pulls it back down.

“I need to tell you something,”

You scrunch your brows, and place the fruit bowl back onto the counter.

“What’s wrong?”

Sukuna closes his eyes, a look of shame washing over him.

You take a step closer, wrap both arms around his waist and rest your chin on his chest.

“What’s wrong?” You repeat, coaxing him to speak.

“I nearly threw the fight tonight.”

You jerk your head up in shock, your lips parting as your jaw falls from the confession.

“You…what?”

Sukuna rubs his tired face with one hand, using every ounce of courage to look back at you.

“There was a moment in the ring when Satoru threw a relatively decent punch,” he explains, “I had the lights knocked out of me for a split second. When I turned to face him it hit me then...that I could fake dodging his next attack before giving him the opening that he needs to win. One more hit and I’d...collapse. Let the referee do his count, and that would be it…”

You knew the exact moment he was referring to. It was the point in the match where your ears were ringing because you truly thought that you would be witnessing a loss on Sukuna's part. The entire crowd was muttering in shock, all of them on the precipice of a potential shift in legacy.

“I didn’t follow through because I think Satoru noticed a change in my demeanor. It was only a few seconds, but the kid is fucking sharp. He wasn't smugly determined then, he was looking at me with...confusion. I couldn't do it then. I didn't want him to get a cop out on my end. So, I carried on the fight the way I would. After the match, I thought I could just let the moment pass but Uraume tried to bring it up later and I shut it down because I didn't want to admit it. Anyway, I needed to just get it off my chest…”

“You were going to give him that win?” You expressed with deep concern, tightening your hold around his waist as you watched Sukuna’s face to turn hard.

It hits you then - that the Champ, The Monster of The Ring, The Beast and King Himself was…burnt out. Sukuna’s fire had been gone for quite some time, you just thought it would reignite after tonight.

But it didn't.

You bring your hands to his biceps and caress your palms up and down.

“Ryomen,” you speak, licking your lips with hesitation before finally asking. “Is this what you still want?”

Contemplative eyes meet yours as his palms find both your cheeks. He drops his head down, his lips seeking yours as he takes into account the gash on the muscle, then places a careful kiss on your mouth.

“I just want you,” he hums.

“M’right here,” you murmur back, “Not going anywhere.”

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he adds on, “that’s all I could think about during the fight. Was just coming home to you, coming home to us…”

A shiver runs down your back, but your body vibrates with an innocent excitement. “We don’t have to wait anymore,” you whisper. “I’m not going anywhere no matter what happens. No matter what comes next…”

Sukuna looks at you then, knowing full well what your statement means.

Once news breaks out of the two of you being an actual item, heaven knows what might happen. If the paparazzi have been plaguing Sukuna like a curse this whole time, it was only going to get even more complicated with you so intimately intertwined in his world. And now that he was back on top as the champion, he knew full well that all eyes were going to remain on him.

From when he was a child, no matter what he believed about his life that would deter you from him. His broken home wasn't enough to push you. His anger wasn't enough to push you. His detachment wasn't enough to push you. The chaos that is his world wasn't enough to push you.

You have always remained solidly by his side.

His constant. The only thing in the world that he can rely on.

“I love you,” he states under his breath, leaning in to peck you for a second time.

“I love you too,” you repeated with a smile against his lips.

There was no epic moment around this sober reveal, no exceptional circumstance other than the privacy of it being spoken with no one else to hear it other than the two of you.

You loved one another, in the deepest possible way you could love a person. From there your lips parted, and you carefully kissed the man before you as he scooped you up in his arms.

He repeated the phrase again when he placed you on the kitchen counter, with his fingers buried deep within the folds of your wet pussy.

You moaned it back to him after he carried you into his bedroom, with your fists tangled between his hair as he ate you out.

He grunted it out one last time, with his hand gripping the headboard as he watched your body melt into the matters when he thrusted his dick in and out of you as he made love to you feverishly.

And you mumbled it back one last time while he held you in his arms, the two of you falling asleep from a very long night of unbridled passion.

Sukuna was the first to wake at the crack of dawn. He rolled over to grab his phone from the side table in an attempt to turn off his alarm before it woke you up as well. As he looked at the device, his heart sank.

A number of notifications were blowing up his phone and it was making him feel dizzy.

News articles were already painting him in all his glory after his fight with Satoru, with his opponent looking battered in defeat. The press had finally flipped, and suddenly began to revere him the way he deserved to be. There were text messages from an influx of people, either congratulating him or wanting get his thoughts on the match. Sukuna feels the tremor in his hand build as he starts to scroll through the notifications.

He places the device on the blanket in front of him, his eyes looking out to the large windows as he watches the sky shift from a deep violet to a lilac blue. He turns this head to gaze at you. This image of you by his side, in a position that he’s seen multiple times in his life, feels different now too. The soft glow of new daylight washes over your body, and the stillness of the hour has him believing that he actually made it to heaven. Sukuna places a soft kiss on your forehead, then carefully kicks off the blankets. He searches for his boxers, then pulls on the pair before stepping out into his balcony.

He calls Uraume.

Usually they pick up quick, but Sukuna counts down the rings until they do.

“My King,” they tease, their voice a little groggy. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Sukuna watches a bird fly across the horizon, the ease in his chest an affirmation to what he’s about to say.

“I’m retiring,” he announces. “I’m done.”

The silence hangs in the air, streaks of orange and yellow begin to tint the clouds.

“I had a feeling you were going to say that…”

“is that why it took you long to answer my call?”

Uraume huffs out a laugh. “I guess I was hoping for another piece of news…”

“Are you mad?” Sukuna asks, only honoring Uraume with his worry because he knows how much they have done for him to begin with.

Uraume sighs, “I’m not actually. It’s the smartest decision you can make. You retire now and you basically leave the game while sitting at the top. You’ve earned that throne, and it won’t be easy for these rookies to take it from you so quickly…”

Sukuna chuckles, “you’re right about that…”

Uraume lets the quiet overtake the conversation. “I’ll give it a few days before I break the news to the press.”

“And then what?”

“There’s definitely going to be a lot of interviews, and a retirement party that you will have to attend wether you like it or not…”

“And what about you?”

Uraume hums, “You and I had a good run. If it’s the end for you, then I guess I can finally retire too..”

Sukna furrows his brows, his nails scratch over the rail on his balcony. “I don’t want you doing that because of me…”

Uraume laughs, “You’ve earned my loyalty, what can I say?”

“Thank you,” Sukuna breathes, “For everything you’ve done for me. You’re more than just a manager, but I think you already know that...”

“I know it,” Uraume answers back. “And I also know that this is the right decision because you sound…relieved.”

He hears you then.

You were calling out to him, “‘kuna, where are you?~”

He turns his back to face the railing, missing the sun breaking through the horizon at the sound of your voice. He smiles thinking about the adorable, frustrated look on your face when you probably reached out and couldn’t find him, and he slowly begins making his approach back into his bedroom.

“I am,” he speaks to Uraume, “I’ve got to go. Will talk about this later.”

He hangs up the phone, and returns to the shadow of deep, restful slumber. He places the phone back on his side table, and smiles at the exact disappointed expression that he pictured when he was outside.

The second you feel his warmth back in your presence, you snuggle up into his frame.

“Where did you go?” You mumble with a yawn, and Sukuna wraps his strong arms around you as he nestles back into your body.

“Nowhere,” he breathes, easing back into your embrace.

“Heard you talking,” you add on, you eyes still shut but your arm slinking around his neck to keep him close.

It’s taken you both over two decades to get here, and he wasn’t going to allow anything to come in the way of that. “I’ll tell you about it later,” he reassures, keeping his loving eyes on you as he clutches onto his bright, new future with his favorite person.

A life that you both will now get to live in peaceful happiness.

₊ ⊹ .

:note: hi, everyone! long form fics has been really draining for me these days but these one shots feel like a great refresher. I know this is a monster of a fic, but I hope you enjoy the story. comments and reblogs are appreciated!

tags (only tagging those who asked): @after-laughter-come-tears @not-9ok @axxk17 @sukubusss @lavenderdaydream97 @charlie-xo @kunasthiast @celestep004 @brownskinnedgirll @sukunasweetheart @kunascutie @joontroverted @emi311 @yuujispinkhair @starmapz @bellyei

#—rosies.reblogs #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader

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rosiesareblu · 10 months ago

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I WANT HIM SO BAD UEGHHHH

Thinking about how Toji knows you like sleeping with things between your thighs, like a pillow, or your hands, sometimes you bundle up your blanket and just stuff it between your legs. It's not sexual either, you don't hump any of these things while you're sleeping, or at least not consciously.

Sometimes he'll come home late from a job to find you already asleep in bed. You're knocked out, lying on your side with a pillow between your legs. You're so deep in sleep that you didn't even hear him creak the bedroom door open. He's missed his pretty girl, though, so once he's done getting ready for bed, he lies down next to you on his side, facing you. He carefully tugs the pillow out of the hold your legs have it in and tosses it aside before he scoots as close as he can to you and carefully wedges his leg between your thighs. The plush is warm and the combination of the pressure offered by your thighs, your body heat, and your scent is comfortable enough to soothe him to sleep.

#—rosies.reblogs #WHY CANT I HAVE HIM MOM #I WANT HIM RN #BETWEEN MY LEGS #NOT SEXUALLY JUST THIS.#LMAOOOOO (i did mean sexually kinda HAHAHA)#i want him like its ramadan and the sun finally set #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #toji #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #jjk toji #jujutsu toji #jujutsu kaisen toji

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rosiesareblu · 1 year ago

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YOU’RE AN AMAZING WRITER— i think i read the ayato one three times 😭😭 the writing is just— its so on par with like bridgerton confession lines,,, its so vv 🤌🤌🤌 mmm

“we’re just friends but…” ft. wriothesley, neuvillette, alhaitham, and kamisato ayato

aka the moment genshin boys realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re not “just friends” and maybe, just maybe, they’d like to be more. perhaps some day in the future they’ll tell you. part two of confessions here!

contains: female reader in all (nicknames such as madame and my lady), fluff, pining and realizing of feelings, wriothesley: mentions of fighting, blood, and injuries (pankration ring), reader is a doctor, neuvillette: mentions of being a mother figure to melusine’s (lots of melusine features!), reader works at the palais and can bake, alhaitham: drunk alhaitham, reader can cook, ayato: implied assassination attempt (canon typical yashiro commissioner life lol), reader wears a dress in and is very minimally attacked by an assassin while with him, ayato is as unhinged and low key crazy as ever, these all end with unresolved pining but they’re all very fluffy and hopeful i pinky promise

“we’re just friends, but when i see her touch anyone else, it makes my skin crawl. shouldn’t she only touch me?” — WRIOTHESLEY

you’re just doing your job, he tries to tell himself. wriothesley knows that with your line of work, not touching anyone would be next to impossible. the fortress is blessed to have such a dedicated and knowledgeable doctor to help out the head nurse, and it’s admirable that you’ve given up broad daylight and a position at any respectable hospital in fontaine to tend to patients down here.

it’s admirable, and wriothesley appreciates it more than anyone else.

but the mind thinks what it thinks, and his can’t help but think how wonderful it would be if the only shirtless man you had to cleans wounds of was himself. not that he gets many wounds—he prides himself in his ability to knock an opponent out before they land a hit, but if someone were to be shirtless on the examination table with your delicate hands dabbing at small cuts, it should be him.

he stares daggers into the small gash his gauntlets seem to have made in his former opponent, watching as you gently clean the blood with careful precision. a part of him faintly registers that he should feel bad—as the duke, it’s his responsibility to make sure he never injures anyone in a good natured tournament, but this time was an accident. and he does feel bad. just not worse than the unexplainable weight at the bottom of his stomach that makes him feel almost nauseous. why does he feel nauseous?

“you’re all good to go,” you hum softly, “i would tell you to be careful next time, but i don’t think this has much to do with you as it does with other factors.”

you shoot wriothesley a pointed look as the man shrugs on his shirt, a dazed look on his features as he thanks you over stumbled words. wriothesley’s jaw tightens—it’s clear as day this patient of yours appreciates much more than your talents as a professional.

“it was an unfortunate accident,” wriothesley mumbles, “i’ll have to be more cautious next time, my apologies.”

“all good, boss,” the man waves off, and with a polite nod to you, he’s off. finally—wriothesley doesn’t think he could’ve left any faster.

“how can you hope to lessen patients in here if you’re the one sending them over?” you turn to him, making wriothesley fight back a small frown.

it must show anyway, because you giggle and poke his cheek as you walk over, speaking in between those melodious laughs as you tell him to stop pouting.

“i’m not pouting,” he scoffs, like the sentiment is preposterous, “and it was an accident. honest.”

“yes i know, your grace,” you tease. hearing such a title doesn’t usually do anything to him, but hearing it from you makes his heart flutter a tiny bit, in a way that makes the ends of his nerves tingle and the palms of his hands sweat just a bit. “but you should be more careful with those gauntlets next time, you know.”

and then, against his every expectation, there’s a gentle and steady hand on his face, cradling it ever so slightly as you tilt his head and inspect the small bruise forming on his jawline.

“you’re hurt too,” you say in concern.

wriothesley, if he wasn’t so busy trying to still his beating heart, would have laughed at the way your face seems devastatingly worried. he would have teased you at the way the sight of blood didn’t manage to crack your steady and firm composure, but somehow, the sight of a small patch of discolored skin has.

“nah, it’s just a small thing,” he waves off, “he caught me off guard after i noticed the blood. nothing i can’t handle.”

“let me ice it,” you insist, “i don’t want it swelling.”

“i’ll be fine, doc,” he chuckles—but he finds himself pausing when you look at him almost upset. has he really upset you? he’d never want to, especially not over something so trivial.

so he sighs, walking over to the table before letting himself take a seat.

“you should take care of yourself more,” you sigh, “i see now what sigewinne means when she says you don’t look after yourself like you should.”

“ah,” he grins, trying to avoid your knowing look when he winces a little at the action when a dull ache builds in his jaw, “i suppose my refusal to drink her…unique beverages have caught up to me.”

you laugh, a sweet and innocent sound that makes something under his ribcage tickle. your hand is back to gently cradling his cheek as you tilt his head again, angling it to hold a small ice pack to the small bruise.

“you seem tense,” you say thoughtfully, “don’t feel so bad. i’m sure those guys give themselves worse in the ring here and there.”

wriothesley feels bad, he really does. he would never purposely injure someone when he’s meant to be the warden that keeps things peaceful. the memory of you tending to the man sitting in his place just a few moments ago brings back another wave of bitterness, one that’s much more fleeting this time when he tells himself that now that he’s replaced the man with himself, things aren’t so bad.

it hits him then—with your hand on his cheek and an ice pack to a comically small bruise that you fuss over, that something in him craves more than just your touch when he’s injured. it hits him that anyone can be in his position, sat in front of you as you treat minor wounds with delicate care. he doesn’t want to be like anyone, he thinks.

he wants more—something he can only have for himself. something that’s crossing the line of this comfortable friendship you’ve seemed to build.

“hey,” you say softly, pulling him from his thoughts. your thumb traces the scar under his eye as if to ground him. something tells him you don’t do that for other patients, something a bit more intimate than a doctor would be with a normal patient. “what’s wrong?”

“it’s nothing, doc,” he hums lowly, eyeing you softly before he closes his eyes and lets out a soft breath. “you think my injury will be okay?” he asks with exaggerated concern.

you snort, shaking your head as you quip, “you’ll live. i hope.”

he chuckles at that. one of these days, when he’s a bit braver and a touch more in tune with his emotions about you, he’ll tell you how he feels. maybe he’ll have your touch outside of the clinic that way, something more personal, something more intimate.

“we’re just friends, but she makes me wonder what it’s like to have my own family with her. is that normal?” — NEUVILLETTE

melusines are beautiful creatures. innocent and kind by nature, and certainly small enough that it only makes them seem that much more fragile. neuvillette has always had a soft spot for the species, from the way they cheerily call him monsieur neuvillette, to the way they happily skip over to him each time they approach him.

the people of fontaine are fond of melusines too. he’s happy with the sentiment—he knows more than anyone else that things weren’t always this way. but somehow, watching you like this, smiling endearingly at the melusines in front of you as you let them pour more water into your cup, he can’t help but find more solace in this moment than any other one.

“madame,” sedene calls, “it’s lovely you could have joined us today.”

you chuckle, sweetly petting her head and taking a sip from your glass as you murmur, “it’s certainly a pleasure. though, i hope i’m not intruding, monsieur,” you look at neuvillette with a polite smile.

“no, of course not,” he returns the gesture, “on the contrary, we’re delighted to have you today.”

neuvillette regularly allows the melusines in his office in the afternoon. it starts one day when they insist he take a break, entering his office and pulling out sweets and tea to enjoy (he only drinks water, but they happily finish what he does not have.) the tradition is born ever since, a daily routine to allow himself a short break, one filled with the excited chatter of small creatures he so fondly looks over as they snack away surrounding his desk.

you happen to walk in today, with files in your hand meant to be dropped off to the iudex, pausing as you take in the sight of tiny paws reaching over his desk to grab madeleines as they chat happily. suddenly, there are one too many small voices insisting you join among the chief justice himself, and soon, you find yourself with a chair pulled over for you, sitting between sedene and neuvillette.

it’s nice, he thinks, having you join. your company is refreshing to witness as you happily indulge the melusines in their chatter.

“madame?” blathine calls, pulling a soft hum from you as you turn your gaze to her, “would you join us tomorrow as well?”

you giggle fondly, taking a small bite from a madeleine as you think for a moment. “perhaps if my schedule is free and monsieur neuvillette is not too busy…”

“i assure you it’s of no trouble to me,” he insists, “this is a bit of a…routine activity,” he chuckles as he eyes the gathered crowd around his desk.

“then i’ll certainly make time,” you grin. he feels himself soften, an unrecognizable twinge of excitement settling into his bones at the words. of course, neuvillette looks forward to the company of the melusines daily, but the added news of you joining seems to make his heart swell in a way he doesn’t normally find happening.

before he can ponder why that is, another voice captures his attention.

“madame, will you make macarons again if you join us? it’s been a while since we’ve last tried them,” kiara asks excitedly.

neuvillette watches as something brightens in you at the question, your lips tugging into a wide grin as your eyes crinkle at the edges. you nod, looking affectionately at the little heads surrounding you as they stare at you hopefully.

“if you would like, of course. i’m happy you enjoyed them.”

“you’ve baked for them before?” neuvillette asks curiously.

you open your mouth to speak, but it’s hardly possible to utter a word when so many excited voices cut in before you can.

“oh yes, madame brings us sweets whenever she makes them!” aeval chirps.

“the strawberry ones are simply divine!” he turns to elphane as she tugs his sleeve, “you must try them, monsieur.”

“the chocolate ones are my favorite. madame, would you bring those too?” liath looks hopeful, brightening as you nod sweetly.

“i hope it’s not too much trouble,” sedene looks up at you, and with another chuckle, you pat her head once more as you shake your head.

“of course not,” you say fondly, “it’s a wonderful pastime, in fact. i’ll certainly bring them tomorrow.”

“be sure not to bring too many sweets yourselves then,” neuvillette says seriously, taking a sip of his water, “you don’t want to have too much sugar and make yourselves sick. and drink plenty of water. it’s good for you.”

you look at him amusedly at his words, tips tugging wider as you say, “it seems as though you’ve taken over a fatherly figure, monsieur. it’s unexpectedly endearing, i must admit.”

“madame! madame! would that make you like a mother figure too, then?” veleda’s words make you choke on the sip of water from your own glass, pulling a surprised blink from neuvillette himself.

you both fleetingly stare at each other from the corner of your eyes before you look down, chuckling nervously as he clears his throat, hoping the flush he seems to feel coating his cheeks is not too apparent.

“well, if you would like to consider me as such, i don’t mind,” you say carefully.

the melusines giggle—for such endearing creatures, neuvillette finds they can be mischievous in their own right as well.

“monsieur, what do you think of madame being a mother figure?” blathine asks innocently, blinking up at him through doe eyes.

“i, well…it’s certainly wonderful you find comfort in her to feel—”

“does that make madame your wife?” aeval squeals, “oh, monsieur, i thought you’d never find someone!”

this time, he’s certain there’s a dust of red coating his cheeks as you laugh softly, eyeing him in a mix of sympathy and amusement.

“now, now,” you call, “monsieur neuvillette and i get along, but our relationship is strictly professional.”

he watches as the melusines giggle behind their tiny paws. he’s certainly aware of their playful schemes, but perhaps…perhaps a small part of him doesn’t mind the thought of you in a romantic light—he’s certainly not practiced in such emotions, but there’s a squeeze in his heart as he thinks about how easy it is to feel like a family with you.

his hand itches to reach and squeeze yours under the table as you laugh happily with the creatures, and faintly, he wonders if this is normal—your words are true, are they not? the relationship between you is strictly professional isn’t it?

he takes a sip of his water, unsure of what the rapid beating of his heart indicates anymore.

“we’re just friends, but i show up to her house every time i’m drunk. that doesn’t mean anything though, does it?” — ALHAITHAM

you open the door before he can even knock. his muddled brain should register that he should be embarrassed by that, but he’s too busy trying to keep his balance as he looks at you.

“oh haitham,” you chuckle, shaking your head, “i was wondering when you’d show up.”

“’m late?” he slurs, making you look at him in amusement as you gently grab his wrist and pull him in.

“did you have fun? you never stay out this long even at the tavern,” you murmur, gently helping him settle down on your couch.

there’s a glass of water waiting for him, one you delicately place to his lips and help him drink from as you sit next to him. even drunk, alhaitham can feel the searing burn of your thigh pressed against his—a heat he doesn’t mind, but it fogs his senses even more than they already are.

“beat cyno in tcg,” he says between sips, “i won.”

“good job,” you snort, “did he take it well?”

“no,” he laughs—it’s a giddy thing, one he lets out a bit more freely than his normal self would.

alhaitham is like that when he’s drunk: free and loose and something on the edge of vulnerable in a way you never get to see him. you smile at him, watching as he slumps back and sighs softly, rubbing his eyes.

“’m hungry,” he murmurs, making you roll your eyes fondly.

“i know,” you nod in amusement, “you practically eat my fridge whole every time.”

in the morning, alhaitham will be embarrassed. he’ll wake up on your soft couch and register that he’s done this again (most couches break his back, but yours somehow feels homely. soft and warm and smells like you to the point that he thinks it’s better than his own bed). he’ll tell himself that it won’t happen again next week, and that he’ll drink in moderation and force kaveh to bring him straight home—but somehow, just like the week before, he lands himself on your familiar couch, waking to the smell of coffee hitting his nose as you make it the way he likes.

it’s not a bad thing to get used to, in all truthfulness. but he’s no fool, he knows exactly what’s slowly developing in his stoic little heart, and he doesn’t think this build up of familiarity is helping his case any further. he doesn’t know if the build up exists for you either—maybe you’re just a nice enough person and good enough friend to let it all happen every week. just happy to give him a safe place to sleep the alcohol out from his system.

if he had a rational thought in his brain, maybe he’d ask you. blunt and to the point as he always is. but then again, even blunt and rational alhaitham gets bested by emotions every once in a while. especially the kind of emotions that are dangerously possible of being unrequited.

but regardless, rational alhaitham is out of the equation for now. right now, drunk, tired, hungry, and irrational alhaitham has taken over. he’ll have to worry about what drunk alhaitham does tomorrow when he’s sober, not right now.

“did you make my favorite?” he asks hopefully, almost childlike in the way his eyes peer at you as they wait for your answer.

they brighten when you nod, grinning as you say, “yes, i did. i always do, don’t i?”

“yeah,” he sighs contentedly, closing his eyes as he pulls the soft blanket you keep just for him over his body, a half-hearted attempt at covering himself as you slowly rise from his side.

the phantom linger of your thigh against his makes him realize he misses the touch, even if it clears his mind from the fog just a little to not be so near you.

“wait,” he says suddenly—you pause. he doesn’t know what’s compelled him to say that (he doesn’t know what compels him to do anything he does around you, but he’s here in this situation for that very reason, so there’s not much to be done there).

“yeah?” you say softly, waiting for him to speak.

“just…” he pauses. why did he stop you? is it because he has something to say? or is it simply because he knows as soon as you feed him dinner, he’ll pass out on your couch, and you’ll retire to your room for the night, and there will end the fleeting moment of having you all to himself? “just stay, that’s all,” he ends up saying.

archons know he’d never say that sober. it’s surprising enough as is when he’s drunk, but you don’t let the shock settle for long—endearment is quick to take over.

you snort before shaking your head, settling back down beside him as you whisper, “you’re the one who said you’re hungry.”

“i’ll eat later,” he frowns. you’re laughing at him, aren’t you? he should be embarrassed, maybe. but that touch of your thigh is back, and he can’t think straight enough to keep his sense of humility in tact.

“you know,” you murmur, delicately pushing back slightly sweaty hair from his flushed forehead, looking at him with enough care, he might think you feel the same if he wasn’t so drunk—but he’s simply too out of it to really understand what emotion your gaze holds. “if only you were as bold sober as you are drunk.”

he leans into your touch, closing his eyes and pressing into the warm embrace of your palm against his skin. it lingers—you don’t pull away any quicker than him, and the result is just a step closer that will only be two steps back by the morning.

still, the both of you enjoy it all the same.

“i’m bold all the time,” he insists.

“i wouldn’t say that,” you huff in amusement. “you don’t really speak your mind around me.”

“i do,” he argues, “i like coming here to you. you’re warm. and so is this couch. and your food’s good.”

“yeah?” you giggle, letting your fingers brush over his hair some more. he hums, nodding as he closes his eyes, yawning.

“mhm,” he barely gets out, “it’s the best part.”

“of what? drinking?”

“no,” he shakes his head, “of…of…i don’t know. just the best part.”

it’s the best part of my week, he’d tell you, if only the words could form on his tongue. he’s too blanketed by the embrace of your warmth and sleep to actually say them.

“tell me all this when you’re sober,” you whisper, tracing a thumb delicately over his cheek before you pull away, pulling the edges of the blanket along to cover him properly. he protests at the loss of your touch with a quiet sound, but sleep pulls him into its clutches quick enough that it doesn’t last too long. “maybe then, i’ll believe you when you say you’re bold all of the time.”

“we’re just friends, but i’d kill just about anyone for her if they so much as look at her weirdly. i can get away with it, can’t i?” — AYATO

ayato thinks if anyone manages to assassinate him one day, then they should be allowed to get away with it with no consequences. by now, he’s confident enough that he’s honed his abilities to be sharp. so sharp, that anyone who manages to so much as touch him is an opponent who has earned to get away with their crimes.

you, however, do not apply to this sentiment.

anyone who so much as touches you, in his eyes, is worthy of far worse than just consequences. he thinks the shogun herself could not hope to save them from his blade.

but for now, there are other pressing matters than to pursue the individual who has managed to attack you on your evening stroll with him—he’ll have the shuumatsuban swiftly investigate and handle the culprit accordingly. for now, he’s more concerned with you.

“are you alright?” he asks gently, helping you stand as you slowly take his outstretched hand. there’s a small quiver in your hand as it clasps his, and his jaw grits slightly at the fact.

“yes,” you breathe quietly, trying to hide the tremor in your voice. ayato can detect it instantly, however. he’s good at reading anyone, but especially you. “i’m alright, my lord,” you reassure.

he frowns, for more reasons than one. “ayato,” he corrects, “no need for formalities.”

“oh, ayato,” you chuckle softly, despite the earlier distress in your features, “as much as you don’t care about appearances, i mustn’t be caught addressing the yashiro commissioner so…improperly. what would people think?”

“that you’re deeply familiar to the yashiro commission,” he says simply, “as you are. it’s only the truth.”

you hum, dusting off the dirt from your dress as you inspect your clothing of any tears. ayato keeps his hand securely on yours, and it doesn’t seem as though he’s looking to let go in the current moment—you don’t necessarily take it upon yourself to remove yourself from his grasp, either.

“well, that was quite the surprise, wasn’t it?” you try to poke fun at the situation, a light attempt to diffuse the clear tension in his brows and shoulders.

ayato doesn’t answer, only taking you in carefully himself, running his eyes up and down your figure as if to make sure there are no injuries for himself. he’s still as pristine as ever, you note—although, it’s not as though the attacker was even close to touching him. he’d retaliated faster than you had even registered there was someone else in your vicinity.

the thought makes you realize how accustomed he must be to assassination attempts—a thought that makes your face drop.

and it must be apparent too, because he asks, “why the long face, all of a sudden?”

you flush in embarrassment. he’s cunning as always, that one. always one step ahead and so good at reading you, you might think he himself holds the pen that writes your every move in crisp, clear scribbles.

“nothing,” you mumble, sighing softly as you shrug, “i suppose it only just dawned on me how effortlessly you evaded such a fate. it must be a normal occurrence for the yashiro commissioner if you’re so…prepared.”

“ah,” he grins, slightly amused as he chuckles, “i suppose it is, yes. nothing to concern yourself over, on the contrary. i am very well prepared, indeed. however, i hadn’t prepared well enough for this stroll it seems, my lady. you must forgive me—next time, i’ll have the shuumatsuban keep an eye out as well.”

“i feel safe enough in your company alone, my lor—ayato,” you correct yourself as soon as you notice the smile drop from the corners of his mouth, “but i can’t help but feel regretful that it’s normal for you to assign additional help to ensure the safety of those close to you. it shouldn’t be necessary for you to be so cautious simply for holding people dear.”

“and do you feel as such?” he teases, “that i hold you dear?”

your face feels hot to the touch, you think, heat creeping to your ears as you look away and clear your throat. ayato is a quick witted man, his words as sharp as ever, meant to apply pressure to the weakest of points.

you’re no exception, it seems. though, he has a bit of a softer approach with you.

“w-well, we’re certainly not strangers,” you huff, “if someone as busy as the yashiro commissioner sets aside time to take an evening stroll with me, i would hope it’s safe to assume we’re quite dear friends.”

friend is starting to seem like a generous word. ayato is a good man, respectable and compassionate enough that he can maintain such a powerful position free of any corruption. but he realizes that respect and compassion are difficult to maintain when it comes to someone harming you.

he wonders, for a brief, fleeting moment, if he could be trusted to keep a calm composure if he were to come face to face with whoever attacked you in the future.

he thinks there’s a large chance that the answer is no, and he’s oddly not bothered by the idea at all.

“i do hold you quite dear,” he says kindly, voice softening an octave, “it is why i must ensure your safety. rest assured, events like today’s won’t happen again.”

“i hope you put as much energy into your own safety,” you counter, “i think inazuma would suffer more greatly if anything were to happen to you, rather than me.”

“i would disagree,” he says with an amused grin, “what disarray the nation would befall if the yashiro commissioner was grief stricken, don’t you think? unable to perform his duties.”

“would you grieve me so deeply, ayato?” it’s your turn to tease, stepping closer as you eye him with playful mischief, “would my absence alone call for the downfall of the nation? then it would only be proper of me to look after myself more carefully, if that’s the case.”

“yes,” he says softly, hesitant for a moment as though admitting as such is enough to admit the more…complicated feelings in his heart. “there is nothing i wouldn’t do to ensure your safety.”

he says the words a touch too seriously—it shocks even him. surely, if limits simply don’t exist if it comes to you, friend is not a term deep enough to truly describe what you are to him.

he wonders if friend feels as much of an injustice to your relationship to you as it does to him.

“i would grieve you too, ayato,” you admit, squeezing the hand he never pulled away, “would you keep yourself safe just for me?”

“do you doubt me?” he chuckles, raising an eyebrow, “i’ve never failed thus far, have i?”

“perhaps not,” you hum, stepping closer, “but just to be sure.”

“then for you,” he carefully pulls you along, falling back into step with you as his hand keeps yours still firmly in his grasp, “i will ensure my own wellbeing just as sacredly as yours.”

someone revoke my access to the word “fond” this instant. i think i got whiplash from how often i used it but i literally don’t know what other word describes “fond” as good as “fond” 😭 anyway!!! kamisato “i would draw my blade to the shogun herself for my love” ayato!!! what a man!!!

#—rosies.reblogs #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x reader #alhaitham x reader #ayato x reader #genshin x reader #:) this is absolutely gorgeous thank you author <3

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rosiesareblu · 7 months ago

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wait hold on author’s cookin rn 👁️👁️

tadashi w a lip ring. that's all.

when yamaguchi told you that he had a surprise for you, you didn’t expect this.

you expected something sweet — some chocolate, your favorite drink, or even one of his old karasuno hoodies that he likes to give you when it gets colder out.

but when tadashi shows up at your door tonight, you’re floored to say the least.

“no. way,” is all that comes out of your mouth. he looks at you with a look that screams ‘it was impulsive, please say you like it.’

“do you like it?” he steps into your apartment, toeing off his shoes before shrugging his jacket off his shoulders.

"let me see it again," you twirl around his figure, ogling at the silver ring in his lip. honestly, you'd never expect tadashi to do something like this, especially with an office job lined up right after he graduates in a couple months, but for some reason, you can't stop thinking about how good he looks — his hair frames his face and falls past his eyes. his lips, although delicate, make him look as if he's been kissed a thousand and one times. they're naturally pink, but the piercing enhances the rosy hue you love so much.

"it looks really good. like, really good."

and now, you're staring at his lips.

and he's leaning in as if it's second nature.

"woah, wait, shouldn't you hold off on the kissing?" you push him away gently and a groan bubbles in his chest.

"three weeks."

"what?"

"no kissing for three weeks."

"so we're both gonna suffer from this?"

"but only for three weeks! after that, you get a boyfriend with a cool lip ring and even cooler kisses!"

"i still can't believe you just… went out and did that. not very like you mr. needs-his-google-calendar-to-function.”

"i was getting bored of how i looked,” he twiddles with the sleeve of his sweater. “and the guys kept saying that i could never do anything wild, so i wanted to prove them wrong… i thought you'd like it too.”

"i do.” you nod, and he smiles. “it’s hot, i won't even lie.”

his ears burn red, and your thoughts trail to what his lip ring might feel like against your warm skin — how it would feel against the column of your neck where he kisses you every night.

he clears his throat and looks away, but you catch the way he scratches the back of his head (his nervous habit. it’s cute, and he’s been doing it since you started dating).

and maybe, he’s thinking about it, too — how the ring would feel against your lips, your jaw, your shoulders.

waiting three weeks will be a challenge, especially when tadashi needs your kisses like air, but it’ll all be worth it, he thinks, if it means that you’ll continue to admire his lips like you are right now.

#—rosies.reblogs #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi tadashi x reader

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rosiesareblu · 2 months ago

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Literally one of the best fics on tumblr for johnny, its written so well im crying

LOW COUNTRY | masterlist

In which a mohawked man responds to your flyer for a farmhand job.

A few years ago, you moved back home to help your Pa after your Ma passed. He used to handle the heavy work while you took care of the animals, cooked, cleaned, and ran errands. But age has slowed him down, so, you put up flyers in town for a farmhand—someone strong, and capable. You didn’t expect a 6’2, sexy beast of a man at your door. And he sure didn’t expect a cute little bird answering it.

➺ ALTERNATIVELY POSTED ON AO3

18+ SET IN 1991, johnny mactavish x fem!reader, implied age gap—johnny's retired military and in his 30's readers in her 20's, captain mactavish vibes, reader's no pushover, plot heavy, sort of an au, slow burn, minor angst, eventual smut,

CHAPTERS

➺ INTRODUCTIONS [6.5k]

➺ HIGH NOON [5.3k]

➺ HARD LUCK [10.2k]

➺ SPLIT RAIL [13.2k]

➺ HEAT WAVE

➺ MORNING CHORES

EXTRAS

➺ pinterest board

➺ layout & floorplans [ READ ME ]

#—rosies.reblogs #johnny mactavish x reader #and the way reader was written is 🤌🤌#i absolutely ADORE strong willed reader #ugh one of my favorites definitely 💯

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rosiesareblu · 2 months ago

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y’all have no idea how happy i am to stumble upon this masterpiece holy shit its so good

The shadow and light Game

Enemies to lover

Servant x blind fem!reader

reader has a shy character in this story

Music to listen to for the atmosphere: People help the people_Birdy

..................................................................................

The morning mist clung to the stone walls of the annex, isolated and cold, far from the grandeur of the Delarive estate. The place had been designed to keep both rumors and their target at bay: Y/N Delarive, the cursed youngest daughter. They said she carried a curse, that she had sold her soul to enrich her family. Yet, for those who had dared to get close, there was neither magic nor malediction. Only a blind young woman, tormented and locked away in a gilded cage.

Y/N sat in her favorite chair, facing a window whose light she could only guess. The slightest noise irritated her; the arrival of a new servant had already sent her into a rage. It was always the same—her parents sent spies to watch her or break her further. But this one, she would not allow to stay.

The door opened. Slowly, without the hurried steps of a fearful servant. The approaching footsteps were heavy yet controlled, as if the person wanted to be noticed. Y/N tightened her grip on the familiar weight of a wooden clock in her frail but determined hands.

“I want no one here!” she screamed before throwing the object with all her strength.

The impact echoed. The man had taken the hit directly to his face. Y/N heard a muffled groan, followed by a heavy silence. No cries, no stumbling retreat. Just that silence—then a deep, composed voice, tinged with a hint of surprise.

“Impressive aim, for someone who can’t see.”

Y/N froze. She had expected apologies, pleas, or a hasty retreat. Not a response so calm, nor a trace of amusement in his tone.

Cassius straightened, pressing a hand to his forehead, where a small cut was already bleeding. He had heard of the youngest Delarive’s tantrums, her fits of rage, her explosive outbursts. None of it had prepared him for this encounter. Behind the mask of suspicion and fury, he sensed something else. Not the madness people accused her of—but a deep, ingrained fear. Almost tangible.

He stepped forward, deliberately closing the distance between them. “I am your new servant,” he declared. Dropping the suitcase he carried at his feet, he added, “And I’m not leaving.”

Y/N clenched her fists. “They all leave.”

“Maybe,” he replied, crossing his arms, “but not today.”

She heard a faint sound—the rustling of a handkerchief as he pressed it to his wound. He wasn’t trying to explain himself, nor impose his presence. And for a reason she couldn’t quite grasp, that unsettled her.

Cassius said nothing, but he observed. The frailness of her wrists, the tension in her shoulders—like a wounded animal, ready to bite to survive. A quiet rage stirred within him. Not against her. But against those who had reduced her to this state. Yet, he kept his mask of indifference. He wasn’t here to save her. He had a vengeance to fulfill.

Y/N was already retreating into silence. “Fine, stay,” she finally said, her voice trembling slightly. “But don’t think I’ll make it easy for you.”

Cassius allowed a fleeting smile, though she couldn’t see it. “It wouldn’t be interesting otherwise.”

He turned to unpack his belongings. But at the edge of his mind, a persistent thought lingered: this family, the ones who had stolen everything he once loved, deserved to suffer. And the key to his revenge was here, in this cold, forgotten annex.

Yet, as he glanced at Y/N from the corner of his eye, he felt something he couldn’t quite name. A curiosity. Perhaps even a respect he hadn’t anticipated. She was far stronger than the rumors suggested.

But he wasn’t here to be distracted.

Not yet

---

Days had passed in a strange monotony. Y/N remained in the shadows of her room, a place she knew as well as her own skin. It was there that she felt protected, even though every movement was a battle she waged against herself. She had never been so reluctant to live, to eat, to wash. The memories of childhood abuse were deeply ingrained, like invisible chains. Anything that came from another human being was suspect. Everything, even food.

Cassius, on the other hand, had understood the situation more quickly than he would have liked. He knew that Y/N refused to eat, that she even refused to wash, that she was trapped in this cycle of suffering out of fear and distrust. He understood that her resistance did not come from a mere desire to be difficult. It was deeper than that. She had been scarred by her past, by a life of physical and emotional violence. And he was here, a new presence in her closed-off world, an intruder she could not accept.

Every morning, when he entered the room, he found her trying to escape reality. The sheets were tangled around her, and she remained curled up, eyes closed, as if she could hide from the entire world. He had seen the same scene play out day after day. She did not eat, barely drank, and recoiled from any form of contact, even from the most basic care.

One morning, after placing the tray of food beside her bed, he sat near her, waiting silently. The tension between them was palpable. Y/N did not react. She knew he was waiting for her to take the food, but her refusal was absolute. He had seen her in moments of rage when she threw the food against the walls or at him, hoping he would leave, that he would give up. But he had no intention of leaving. Not this time.

At last, he stood, walked to the door, and returned with a basin of warm water. “Y/N,” he said in a calm voice, “it’s time.”

She turned sharply toward him, her hands trembling, panic flashing in her voice. “No! I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want your help.”

But this time, Cassius had not come to negotiate. He leaned forward slowly, grasping the edge of the blanket and pulling it gently, as if he were nothing more than a passing breeze. “You don’t have a choice. You will wash, and you will eat.”

She bolted upright, eyes wide, pushing herself up on her elbows with surprising speed. “Don’t touch me!” she screamed, nearly out of control, the terror evident in her voice. She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, but he dodged it effortlessly.

She tried to get up and flee, but he gently forced her to stay in bed, his authority calm yet unyielding. “Calm down,” he said, holding her firmly but without violence. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She struggled against him, screaming, but he did not let go. His hands firmly grasped her wrists, never tightening enough to cause pain. Tears welled in her eyes, but she could not break free from his hold. Y/N was weaker than she thought. She didn’t realize that everything she feared from him, everything she imagined in her mind, was nothing more than ghosts. He wasn’t here to hurt her—not in the way she feared. But she didn’t understand that. Not yet.

“I’m here to help you,” he murmured, his voice almost gentle as he kept his hold on her. “Not to harm you.”

She tensed, her breathing ragged, her heart pounding wildly. She trembled, but it was more from fear than from cold. And in that silent struggle, Cassius felt her resistance begin to crack. It wasn’t just pride or distrust. It was pure fear—the fear of having lost control over everything. The fear of being vulnerable again.

She tried one last time to push him away, but her strength failed her. In the end, she collapsed against him, exhausted, her gaze empty as she stared ahead. Cassius did not release his hold immediately. Instead, he supported her gently, one hand firmly placed on her shoulder, as if to remind her that he was there. But he did not force her. He waited. He waited for her to realize that he wasn’t here to hurt her. Not this time.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Y/N,” he said, almost a whisper. “You won’t be alone in this.”

She rolled onto her side, allowing the warmth of the water he poured gently over her face to wash over her. Y/N closed her eyes, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. She hadn’t wanted to surrender. She hadn’t wanted to accept his presence. But in that quiet surrender, there was a fragility he couldn’t ignore.

Finally, she let out a deep sigh, her resistance breaking, and allowed herself to be taken by what he offered—a little care, a little warmth, and perhaps, just a little trust.

---

The next day, Cassius entered Y/N’s room as usual, a tray of food in his hands. But this time, he immediately noticed something different. She wasn’t curled up under her blankets as she usually was. Instead, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, her bare feet barely touching the floor. Her face was turned toward the faint light from the window, lost in thought.

She didn’t say a word when he placed the tray near her. Yet he noticed that her hands trembled slightly, as if she was gathering all her courage to resist retreating into herself.

“I brought you something to eat, my lady,” he said softly, kneeling beside the tray.

She pressed her lips together, hesitating for a moment before replying. “You’re wasting your time. I won’t make this easy for you.”

He smiled slightly, but there was no arrogance in his expression. “I don’t need you to make it easy. I am patient.”

She let out an annoyed sigh, but there was something softer in her tone—weariness mixed with a hint of resignation. “Why do you persist? I don’t want your help. I don’t want you here.”

Cassius took a spoonful of the steaming soup and held it out to her with calm determination. “You can say whatever you want, my lady. But there’s a difference between what you say and what you need.”

Y/N turned her head toward him, her brows furrowed. She couldn’t see his expression, but she could hear the firmness in his voice. It unsettled her, as if he could see through her words, through her defenses.

“I don’t want you to touch me,” she said, her voice tinged with the slightest trace of fear.

Cassius tilted his head slightly. “And I won’t. You can eat on your own. But if you don’t… then I will do it for you.”

She felt her chest tighten. He wasn’t joking. By now, she knew him well enough to understand that he always kept his promises. And though it frustrated her, a small part of her—just the smallest part—felt strangely relieved by his presence.

After a long silence, she finally reached out and took the spoon. “Fine,” she murmured, a mix of defiance and surrender in her voice. “But it’s not because I trust you.”

Cassius nodded, a flicker of satisfaction in his gaze. “I never said you had to trust me. That will come with time.”

She took a spoonful of soup, then another, in silence. He didn’t say anything, simply watching from a distance, ready to step in if she stopped. But she continued, even though every bite seemed like an immense effort.

When she finally finished, she placed the spoon down with a sigh. “Now, will you finally leave and let me be?”

Cassius stood, retrieving the tray with ease. Before stepping out of the room, he glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in an hour to take you to the bath. I suggest you don’t fight me this time, my lady.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but he was already gone, the door closing behind him.

She clenched her fists, her nails pressing lightly into her palms. He drove her mad. And yet, a strange warmth—one she didn’t understand—began to settle within her.

For the first time, she wondered if she was ready to lower her walls just a little, just to see what he would do.

---

Cassius scrutinized his own reflection in the cracked mirror of the small room he had been assigned. His features were calm, almost neutral, but deep within his eyes, shards of hatred lay buried—an old hatred, hardened by time. He had taken this position for one clear reason: to destroy the Delarives. To take back everything they had stolen from his family.

He remembered the day when everything had crumbled for the Changs. His father, a respected noble, had been dragged through the mud by a wave of accusations orchestrated by the Delarives. The land, the titles, the fortune—everything had been taken from them. His mother had succumbed to illness soon after, broken by humiliation and poverty. Cassius, still a young man at the time, had wandered in the shadows for years, nurturing his vengeance.

When he learned that Y/N Delarive lived alone, isolated in the annex, he knew his chance had finally come. She, the scorned youngest daughter, the one even her own family seemed to want to erase, was his way in. Becoming her servant was a humiliation he was willing to endure for his ultimate goal: their ruin.

Why Y/N?

Because she was their weakness.

Cassius knew that the Delarives’ reputation rested on a carefully maintained façade. A wealthy, powerful, exemplary family. But a blind, unstable daughter, treated like a shadow, could become their greatest liability. If Y/N became a public problem, if the rumors about her spread, if her very existence became an unbearable burden, the Delarives would begin to falter.

By entering her world, he intended to manipulate her, feed her despair, and use her isolation against them. He wanted them to reject her even more violently, to expose themselves to the county as the monsters they truly were. Once they were weakened, he would strike at the heart, revealing the truth about the wealth they had stolen from his family.

But as he got closer to Y/N, he discovered a reality he had not anticipated: she was not just a tool, a weapon to sharpen against them. She was a broken soul, haunted by a life of contempt and solitude.

It had been several days since he had entered her service, and each interaction unsettled him more and more. Y/N was nothing like her brothers, sisters, or father. She had none of their arrogance or cruelty. Instead, she was a wounded creature, hiding behind walls of anger and mistrust.

And yet, she fought. She fought against him, against her own weakness, against the fear that held her captive. He had seen her reject food, refuse to wash, throw objects in fits of almost childlike rage. But beyond those impulsive gestures, he also saw a woman who had learned to survive alone in a house that hated her.

He hadn’t expected his anger to clash with his humanity.

That evening, after Y/N had finally eaten for the first time without resistance, Cassius allowed himself a moment of reflection. He had not yet advanced in his plan. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to focus on his revenge, to remain cold and methodical. But a part of him, small and silent, was beginning to stir.

Was she truly like the rest of her family?

He shook his head, pushing the thought aside. Innocent or guilty, it didn’t matter—she was still a link in the chain that had destroyed his family. By becoming her servant, he had not committed to protecting her. He had committed to bringing down the Delarives.

But for now, he had to remain patient. He had to continue playing the perfect role. Earn Y/N’s trust just enough to guide her where he wanted. No matter if it meant enduring her outbursts or her insults. No matter if it meant walking the fine line between obsession and pity.

As he blew out the candle in his room, his final thoughts were of her, the "young mistress" he addressed not out of respect, but out of irony.

“I will lead you where I want, my lady,” he murmured into the darkness. “Whether you want it or not.”

---

The next morning, the sun timidly pierced through the thick curtains of the annex, casting a soft, pale light into Y/N’s room. She sat on her bed, motionless, listening intently for any sound. Cassius had not entered yet. It worried her, though she would never admit it out loud.

Since his arrival, he had been constant, present like a shadow she couldn’t dispel. And despite her efforts to push him away, he always returned, unwavering. She should have been relieved that he was late. Yet instead, a strange emptiness was growing inside her chest.

Finally, the familiar sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, and the door creaked open. Cassius entered, carrying another tray of food. As usual, his expression was calm, but his eyes quickly scanned her, as if ensuring she was safe.

“You’re late,” she snapped, her tone sharp, though her voice was weaker than usual.

He raised an eyebrow, amused by her remark. “I didn’t know you were waiting for me, my lady.”

She turned her head away, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “I wasn’t waiting. I was merely noting your lack of punctuality.”

He placed the tray near her and settled into a chair, as if this conversation was just part of their usual routine. “You’re observant today. Perhaps you’re simply in a better mood.”

Y/N frowned, irritated by his light tone. “Don’t act as if you know me. You know nothing about me.”

He remained silent for a moment, his eyes softening almost imperceptibly. “You’re right, I don’t know everything. But I observe you, and every day, I learn a little more.”

She clenched the sheets beneath her fists, his words both aggravating and unsettling her. “You’re wasting your time, Cassius. I am not like the others. I am not… normal. You can’t learn anything from me.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, his expression turning serious. “Not normal, you say? Because you’re blind? Because your family cast you aside? Is that what you believe, or what they made you believe?”

Her breath caught in her throat. His words, though spoken gently, struck her like a blade. She turned her head away, biting the inside of her cheek to hold back the tears threatening to fall.

His voice softened even more as he continued, “My lady, perhaps you don’t need me. But I need you.”

His declaration unsettled her, and she sat up slightly, her heart pounding. “You… need me? Why?”

Cassius rose from his chair, his gaze unwavering. “Because you are the key. The key to breaking free from the prison your family built around you.”

He paused, then added in a quieter tone, “And perhaps also… because I want to see what you’re capable of, Y/N.”

It was the first time he had spoken her name without the title of "my lady." She didn’t know why it affected her so much, but a strange warmth spread through her chest.

He turned away then, picking up the empty tray from the previous day, and stopped at the door. “Eat. And get ready. I’ll be back to take you outside. You’ve spent too much time locked in here.”

“Outside?” she repeated, alarmed.

He didn’t answer, closing the door behind him.

Cassius knew it was risky. Taking her beyond the annex could draw attention, and the Delarives were not the type to appreciate their "secret" being exposed. But he needed her to leave this prison. Not just for her, but for himself. He had to understand just how far he could push this strange connection forming between them.

Destroying the Delarives was still his goal, but a part of him was beginning to wonder if Y/N, despite her ties to that cursed family, deserved something else.

And that… he couldn’t afford to consider. Not yet.

But the game was changing. Slowly, but surely.

---

Cassius watched as Y/N struggled to stand. Her frail, trembling legs seemed incapable of supporting her weight. It had been months, perhaps years, since she had truly moved beyond her bed, and her body reflected it—every movement was hesitant, clumsy, almost painful to witness.

She clenched her fists, frustrated, and attempted a step. But before she could advance, her knees buckled. Cassius rushed forward, catching her in his arms before she could collapse.

“Let me go!” she growled, but her voice wavered more than it held strength.

He ignored her protest, gently setting her upright again, his hands steady on her shoulders to keep her balanced. “My lady, you are stubborn, but you can’t do everything alone.”

“I don’t need you. I can walk!”

She tried to pull away, but Cassius remained firm. His expression was calm, yet his heart pounded with an intensity he couldn’t explain. Seeing Y/N in this vulnerable state stirred a strange contradiction within him—a mix of admiration for her strength and a pain he refused to acknowledge.

Day after day, he helped her learn to walk again. Each morning, he supported her gently, his hands always ready to catch her if she fell. At first, she resisted, throwing insults and bitter words at him to make him leave. But over time, an unspoken truce settled between them.

Cassius said nothing, but he observed. He noticed the small victories in her movements—the way she managed to stand a little longer each day or the fleeting hint of a smile she refused to let linger when she succeeded in taking a step without his help.

He found himself watching her longer than he should, his gaze drawn to the determination shining on her face. This young woman, whom he had first considered nothing more than a tool in his plan for vengeance, was becoming something else. But he refused to put a name to what he was feeling.

One day, after multiple failed attempts, Y/N finally managed to walk with relative stability. Cassius decided it was time to take her outside.

“Are you ready, my lady?” he asked, adjusting a scarf around her shoulders.

Y/N hesitated, her hand brushing uncertainly against the fabric. “I’m not sure… I’ve never gone out alone before.”

“You’re not alone. I’m here.”

Those simple words, spoken with sincerity, had a calming effect on her. She nodded timidly, and he took her hand in his, guiding her out of the annex.

The outside air was crisp, filled with the songs of birds. Y/N inhaled deeply, as if rediscovering a world she had long forgotten. Cassius walked beside her, his hands firmly placed over hers to guide her along the forest paths.

“It’s different…” she murmured.

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. The air smells… more alive here. And I hear things. Birds. The wind in the trees.”

He glanced at her, fascinated. Every word she spoke revealed a curiosity she had buried under years of fear and mistrust. A strange warmth filled his chest—an emotion he didn’t want to name: pride.

But as they walked, Cassius noticed something in the distance, beyond the grove of trees. A dark figure stood among the shadows, and his instincts screamed at him to investigate.

“Stay here, my lady,” he said quickly.

“Where are you going?” Y/N asked, her voice tense.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t move.”

Before she could protest, he released her hands and disappeared into the trees.

At first, Y/N remained still, trying to calm the unease growing inside her. But soon, the very sounds of the forest that had fascinated her moments ago became threatening. The rustling leaves, the snapping branches—everything seemed to close in around her.

She reached out, searching for something solid, but the emptiness around her filled her with terror.

“Cassius!” she called out, but only the echo of her voice answered.

Panic took over. She turned in circles, her feet stumbling over roots and stones. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks as fear and anger twisted inside her in an uncontrollable storm.

When Cassius finally returned, he found her curled up on the ground, her hands trembling with rage. As soon as she heard his footsteps, she lifted her head and screamed at him:

“Where were you?! You left me! You left me all alone!”

He immediately knelt beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m here now. You’re safe, my lady.”

But she didn’t want to calm down. She weakly struck his chest over and over, her gestures fueled more by desperation than true anger. “You abandoned me… I… I waited for you. I… I never want to be alone like that again!”

Cassius gently caught her wrists, stopping her weak blows, his gaze filled with guilt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I won’t leave you alone again.”

At last, she stilled, her hands relaxing in his. But instead of pulling away, she clung to his clothes, her fingers gripping his tunic with desperate force.

“Promise me,” she whispered.

“I promise, my lady,” he answered softly.

For the first time, Cassius felt a weight settle in his chest. He knew that this promise, as simple as it seemed, was far more than just words. It was a line he had just crossed, a barrier he could no longer ignore.

---

The wind had picked up, rustling the curtains of the annex. Cassius sat near the window, his mind occupied with his plan. Since his arrival, he had patiently studied the weaknesses of the Delarive family. He knew their habits, their secrets, and their vulnerabilities. But what troubled him most was Y/N.

Since that promise in the forest, something within him had changed. She was no longer just a means to an end. He felt a responsibility toward her—an inexplicable desire to protect her. A contradiction that tore at him more and more each day.

Yet, he never forgot why he was there. Today, he had to move forward with his plan. He had not yet decided how to use Y/N against her family, but an opportunity presented itself sooner than expected.

That morning, as he helped Y/N prepare for her daily walk, the sound of carriage wheels echoed outside. Y/N froze, listening intently.

"What is that?" she asked warily.

Cassius glanced out the window and saw two figures stepping down from the carriage. A man and a woman, elegantly dressed, approached the annex. He recognized them immediately: Y/N’s older brother, Charles, and her younger sister, Adeline.

"Your family," he answered calmly.

Y/N paled, her fingers clutching nervously at the fabric of her dress. "Why are they here? They never come… unless…"

Cassius placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Whatever their intentions, I am here. Stay calm, my lady."

She nodded, but her entire body trembled.

A few minutes later, Charles and Adeline entered the annex, their imposing presence filling the small space. Charles, tall and austere, regarded Y/N with a gaze full of contempt, while Adeline wore a smug smile, lazily flicking her fan through the air.

"Well, Y/N," Charles drawled sarcastically. "You’re as charming as ever. Solitude seems to suit you."

Adeline let out a crystalline laugh. "You could at least make an effort to look presentable. Even in such a pitiful state, you could have a shred of dignity."

Y/N remained silent, her hands trembling slightly. Cassius, standing behind her, clenched his fists. He knew he couldn’t openly interfere, but watching Y/N endure such humiliation ignited a fury within him that was hard to suppress.

"What do you want?" Y/N asked in a hoarse voice.

Charles stepped forward, a predatory smirk on his lips. "What do we want? Come now, Y/N, we’re simply here to check on you. After all, you are our dear sister."

Adeline added with false sweetness, "We were worried. You know, rumors in the county are getting out of hand. Some people are saying… terrible things. You should be careful."

Y/N felt her heart grow heavy. She knew exactly what they meant. This was no visit of concern. They were here to ensure she remained in her place—out of sight, away from the power they wielded.

Seeing Y/N crumble under their verbal assaults, Cassius decided to step in. He moved forward slightly, placing himself between her and her tormentors.

"May I offer you something to drink, sir, madam?" he asked politely, his tone measured, but his eyes betraying a cold determination.

Charles eyed him with disdain. "And who are you?"

"Cassius, my lady’s personal servant," he replied, deliberately emphasizing the title.

Adeline raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Personal? Why on earth would she need a personal servant? She does nothing but exist."

Cassius forced a smile. "Precisely. It is my duty to ensure she has everything she needs, despite… the circumstances."

Charles narrowed his eyes, suspicion flickering across his face. "You seem overly zealous for someone of your station."

"I am merely fulfilling my duty, sir," Cassius said with a practiced bow.

During the brief exchange, he felt Y/N subtly clutch at his sleeve, seeking silent support. That small gesture only strengthened his resolve.

When Charles and Adeline finally left, Cassius remained by the window, watching the carriage disappear down the path. He knew they would return. Their arrogance and need for control would not allow them to ignore Y/N for long.

But that played to his advantage. The more they interfered, the more opportunities he had to sow discord.

Y/N, meanwhile, looked exhausted, curled up in the chair. "Why… why didn’t you chase them away?" she murmured.

Cassius knelt beside her, placing a hand over hers. "Because they must not suspect that you have regained any strength, however small. Letting them believe they still hold control is our greatest weapon."

She lifted her head, her unseeing eyes fixed on a point beyond him. "You say ‘our.’ Why are you doing this for me?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering softly, "Because you deserve better than them. And because sometimes, one must wait for the right moment to strike."

She didn’t fully grasp the deeper meaning behind his words, but something in his voice soothed her.

Cassius, however, knew that every word he spoke was another step forward in his strategy. For now, he played the role of the protector. But soon, he would turn their own weapons against them, and the Delarives would regret stealing what rightfully belonged to his family.

---

Night had fallen, wrapping the annex in a heavy silence. Cassius sat at his desk in the small room he occupied near Y/N’s chamber, studying a map of the estate he had acquired during one of his incursions into the main house. Every secret passage, every hiding place of the Delarive family was now etched into his mind.

Between his fingers, he held a golden brooch adorned with a ruby—a remnant of his family’s former wealth. The Delarives had once owned it, but he had reclaimed it during a visit to the manor’s library. A small victory among the many he planned to achieve.

For Cassius, the visit from Charles and Adeline had confirmed one thing: their contempt for Y/N was their Achilles’ heel. Their arrogance, their certainty that she posed no threat, would be the very weakness through which he would infiltrate and destroy them.

The next day, Cassius decided to initiate the first phase of his plan: strengthening Y/N.

He knew she would never be a willing ally. Her distrust and isolation made her wild and unpredictable. But he had observed, in her rare moments of calm, a spark of intelligence and strength that he could use to his advantage.

At dawn, he entered her room, carrying a plate of food in one hand and a wooden staff in the other.

“Here again to force me to eat?” Y/N grumbled, turning her head toward the door.

Cassius set the plate on the table. “My lady, you need strength. Not just to walk, but to resist those who wish to harm you.”

She narrowed her eyes, wary. “What do you mean?”

He sat calmly on a chair across from her. “Your brother and sister will return. And they won’t come just to talk. You must be ready to defend yourself.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “You want me, a blind woman, to defend myself against them? What a joke.”

“Blindness is not a weakness,” he replied gently. “Your other senses are sharper than you think. And with a little training, you could surprise anyone.”

Y/N remained silent, torn between rejecting his words and accepting them. She had spent her whole life as a victim, but a part of her longed to be something more.

“If I refuse, you’ll force me, won’t you?” she murmured.

Cassius gave the faintest of smiles. “You’re starting to understand me.”

He began with simple exercises. He had her hold the staff, helping her get familiar with its weight and texture. Then, he guided her through basic movements, teaching her to strike in different directions using only sound as her guide.

“Listen,” he said with every lesson. “Every sound tells a story. The rustle of fabric, the creak of wood underfoot… they tell you where your opponent is.”

At first, Y/N was hesitant, often stumbling or striking into empty air. But Cassius was patient. Every correction was gentle, every encouragement sincere.

Over time, she began to improve. Her stance grew steadier, her movements more precise.

One afternoon, he decided to test her outside. He led her to the garden near the annex, a place where she could hear the birds and smell the flowers.

“We’re going to play a game,” he announced. “I’ll walk around you, and you have to find me. Use your ears, your instinct.”

She frowned. “This is ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he replied with a light laugh. “But try anyway.”

He stepped away, moving in a slow circle around her, his footsteps deliberately light. Y/N remained still, focused. Then, suddenly, she lifted the staff and struck in his direction.

He dodged swiftly, but a proud smile lit up his face. “Well done, my lady. You found me.”

Y/N lowered the staff, a mix of surprise and pride crossing her features. “That was just luck.”

“Perhaps. But it’s a start.”

---

Dawn cast a pale light over the annex when Cassius was awakened by urgent knocks at the door. A servant, sent from the main house, delivered news that made a cold smile form on his lips, despite the grave tone in which it was spoken.

“An emergency meeting will be held tonight in the grand salon. Master Charles and Miss Adeline have summoned important guests from the county. It seems to be a pressing matter concerning the family.”

Cassius nodded slowly, masking his excitement behind a veil of calm. He could already guess what was happening. Something unexpected must have threatened the Delarives—something they were desperate to silence.

By discreetly listening to the servants’ conversations and piecing together clues, Cassius quickly understood. An anonymous letter had been sent to several county officials, accusing the Delarives of amassing their wealth through illicit means, by unlawfully seizing the assets of a fallen noble family.

It was the kind of rumor that could destroy a reputation, especially in a society where family honor was everything. Cassius knew this was the moment he had been waiting for all these years. If the rumor gained traction, it would bring the Delarives to their knees, shattering both their fortune and their status.

But there was a shadow over his impending triumph. A shadow that bore the name of Y/N.

Since that night in the forest, Y/N had become slightly more open. She spoke more, though her words still carried traces of distrust. She had started to smile again—a rare, fragile, yet sincere smile. Cassius couldn’t help but notice the unsteady beat of his heart whenever she laughed softly, whenever she found a fleeting moment of peace.

As he prepared for the next steps in his revenge, he caught himself thinking of her. Not in terms of how she could be useful to him, but of what would become of her afterward.

If the Delarive family fell, Y/N would be the first to suffer. Isolated, despised by all, she would become an easy target for the rest of the county. Worse still, she could be cast out into the streets, unable to survive on her own because of her blindness.

The thought haunted him, no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

On the night of the meeting, Cassius slipped silently through the corridors of the main house. He had carefully planned his next move. While the county officials gathered in the grand salon, he used the chaos to sneak into Charles’ office, stealing incriminating documents—irrefutable proof of embezzlement and illegal acquisitions.

With these documents, he could ignite a scandal so massive that the Delarives would never recover.

But as he made his way back to the annex, his steps slowed. Each page in his hands was a step closer to his vengeance, but also a sentence for Y/N.

She was waiting for him in the sitting room, seated in her favorite chair. She turned her head slightly at the sound of his footsteps.

“You’re late,” she murmured.

Cassius placed the documents gently on the table before stepping toward her. “Important matters.”

She furrowed her brows slightly. “You’re always busy. Sometimes, I feel like you do so many things I don’t understand.”

He knelt before her, taking her hands in his. “What if I told you that I do all of this for you?”

She pulled her hands away abruptly, instinctive distrust flashing across her face. “Why would you do that? I’m nothing. A blind girl that everyone despises.”

“You are far more than that, Y/N,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth he hadn’t intended.

She remained silent, troubled by the sincerity in his tone.

Later, alone in his room, Cassius stared at the documents spread across his desk. The plan he had built for years was nearly complete. All he had to do was send the evidence to the right people, and the Delarives would be ruined.

But one question echoed in his mind: what would happen to Y/N afterward?

He could already see the look on her face when she learned the truth. The contempt she would feel for him, the pain of being betrayed by the only person she had begun to trust.

For the first time since his quest for revenge had begun, Cassius hesitated. Not because he doubted his plan, but because his heart—one he had believed to be hardened—was starting to stir.

He spent the night weighing his options. Part of him wanted to move forward without looking back, to fulfill the vow he had made to his family. But another part—the one that remembered Y/N’s laughter, the way her hand had clung to his in the forest—refused to sacrifice her for his hatred.

By dawn, Cassius knew he had to make a choice. Either he completed his revenge, even if it meant losing Y/N forever, or he found a way to save her—even if it meant abandoning his plan.

He stood, his dark eyes fixed on the horizon.

For the first time, he felt lost.

His heart and his reason were at war, and he did not yet know which would prevail.

---

The morning was cold, but a light breeze rustled the leaves of the trees surrounding the annex. The sky was clear, scattered with wisps of clouds, and everything felt calm, almost unreal. Yet, a tension lingered in the air, a fragile balance between what Cassius had planned and Y/N’s desires—desires he couldn’t quite understand. That morning, he watched her prepare with an energy he hadn’t seen in a long time.

She insisted on going outside.

She, who usually spent her days indoors, hiding beneath blankets or behind invisible walls only her eyes could perceive, suddenly seemed full of life. There was no apparent reason for this drastic change. Cassius observed her, perplexed, as he helped her put on warm clothes—a thick wool coat, a scarf around her neck, gloves. He protected her as he always did, yet something about her seemed to slip beyond his understanding. She seemed... almost happy.

"You don’t have to follow me today," she said abruptly as he adjusted her scarf. Her words were almost detached, as if she was trying to push him away. But in her tone, there was also a note of softness, almost a challenge. She knew he would follow her, no matter what she said.

Cassius didn’t respond immediately. He was used to this now. Over the past few weeks, she had become more and more unpredictable. He hadn’t planned for that, but he didn’t mind. He followed her in silence, his thoughts still troubled by his own inner conflicts. He couldn’t understand why he felt so torn. Why did this simple walk feel so heavy to him?

They walked together, the icy air biting at their faces, but there was no conversation. Y/N’s steps were a little hesitant, still uncertain, but steadier than before. A faint smile tugged at Cassius’s lips as he watched her so determined. He accompanied her without question, simply guiding her when needed.

Then, suddenly, in a moment of inattention, Y/N let go of his hand. He felt his heart stop for an instant, a shiver of panic running through him. She moved quickly toward a tree a few steps away.

"Y/N!" he called, but it was too late. She was already climbing.

In a matter of seconds, she pulled herself onto the lowest branch, and with astonishing grace, climbed higher, smiling as if the whole world was nothing but a playground.

Cassius froze, caught between shock and concern. His mind raced, imagining hundreds of scenarios where she could fall, where she could get hurt. But when he lifted his gaze to her, he saw something unexpected—she was laughing. Laughing! She laughed like a child, completely oblivious to the danger she had just created.

There she was, perched at a height he didn’t consider safe, and her eyes, though unable to see the world around her, shone with light and freedom. She smiled, the wind playing with her hair, and for a fraction of a second, she seemed... alive in a way he had never imagined.

He felt lost.

This wasn’t the fragile girl he had grown used to, the one who stayed in bed, shielding herself from the world. No, this was a different Y/N—stronger, more defiant. She was there, challenging the height, challenging everything he thought he knew about her.

"Do you need a hand?" he called up to her, a hint of worry in his voice despite the smile he tried to hide.

She laughed even louder, the sound ringing through the crisp air. "Are you really trying to stop me from having fun?" she teased, a playfulness in her voice he had never heard before.

He stepped cautiously closer to the tree, his eyes never leaving her movements, ready to catch her if necessary.

He could have ordered her to come down, scolded her for taking such a reckless risk, but instead, he just watched her, an unfamiliar sense of admiration creeping into his chest.

She looked... free.

And yet, with every smile she gave him, with every laugh that echoed in the air, he realized he still didn’t understand.

How could he love this girl while knowing he was about to destroy everything she had? Knowing that, inevitably, he would lose her?

Suddenly, he became aware that he was standing there, beneath the tree, hesitating—trapped in an internal conflict he could no longer ignore.

On one side, there was the plan, the revenge he had nurtured for years.

On the other, there was her—this elusive girl who had appeared like a ray of light in his dark world.

What should he do?

She finally climbed down, landing gracefully on the ground like a cat. When she turned to face him, her smile faded slightly. "Do you want to go back?" she asked softly, suddenly sounding less carefree, as if, somehow, she knew something had changed between them.

Cassius looked at her, a storm of thoughts swirling in his mind.

But only one question remained, firmly rooted in his heart:

What would happen to her after all of this?

---

Cassius spent his days in a constant state of inner turmoil, torn between his quest for revenge and the growing shadow of his feelings for Y/N. Every gesture, every word from the young woman seemed to unsettle him, pushing him to doubt his intentions. It was no longer just a matter of justice to him; it had become a question of emotional survival. The plan he had put in place, the one he had meticulously crafted, no longer made sense.

The compromising documents, the revenge he had envisioned—all of it was gradually falling apart in the face of what he felt for her. How could he destroy the family that had mistreated him while saving Y/N from the same fate he had in store for her? How could he protect her while pursuing his own quest for justice? Every time he asked himself this question, the answer remained vague, elusive.

He could no longer look at her without thinking about what he would inflict on her. And yet, he was so drawn to her, to her fragility, but also to her unexpected strength. She had something purely human about her, an inner beauty he hadn’t seen coming, and it struck him with every glance.

But everything changed one morning.

That morning, he realized he could no longer ignore the signs. Y/N, who had usually been in better health than in recent days, suddenly seemed exhausted, almost lifeless. She wasn’t getting up like she usually did, and when he joined her in the small room where she spent most of her time, he noticed her pale complexion. Her cheeks, usually rosy, were now a grayish tint, almost translucent.

"Y/N?" he called gently as he approached.

She barely lifted her head, her eyes half-closed, and her breathing seemed heavier than usual. She touched her temple, and a shiver ran through her body.

"I… I’m just a little tired…" she murmured, but her voice was weak, trembling.

Cassius, although used to keeping a certain distance, couldn’t hold back a shiver of concern. He knelt beside her, a strange sensation of vulnerability overwhelming him. He had never seen Y/N in such a state. The reality of her fragility, of her dependence on him, hit him like a punch in the stomach.

He gently lifted her to carry her to her bed, her body trembling with fever.

As the day wore on, the situation quickly deteriorated. Y/N had developed a high fever, her body shaking beneath the covers as she was completely disoriented, almost lost. She could no longer speak coherently, and her arms frantically tried to cling to him, like an anchor.

She kept repeating incoherent words, her voice broken by fever. "Don’t leave me… I’m scared…"

Cassius felt a dull pain invade his chest. This couldn’t be happening, not after everything he had planned. Not after everything he had built. Why the hell did he feel so powerless? He had never considered that his own plan for revenge could one day make him feel so vulnerable. It wasn’t part of the calculations.

He reached into his emergency bag and prepared warm water for a compress. His hands trembled slightly. As he helped cool her down, he felt her burning skin, struggling against the intense heat that seemed to consume her from the inside. She clung to him tighter, unable to find comfort elsewhere.

"I’m here," he whispered to her, although the words seemed insignificant in the face of the pain he saw in her eyes. "I won’t leave you."

She closed her eyes, folding into him, as if his mere presence was the only thing that could reassure her.

He knew he needed to find a doctor. But at that moment, nothing mattered more to him than staying by her side.

As he kept vigil over her, he found himself looking at her more intensely. She was no longer just the girl he had known in the coldness of the annex, nor even the object of his revenge. She was a young woman, lost and fragile, but also incredibly alive, who had pulled him into a whirlwind of emotions and doubts he no longer knew how to handle. He had tried to ignore her, to push her away, but he had never been able to.

And there, in that room, holding her against him, feeling the heat of her burning body, he finally understood what he needed to do.

He couldn’t let her die.

Not now, not ever.

But how could he save Y/N while destroying his family? How could he fix everything he had broken in her without being the one who had destroyed her? This dilemma remained as heavy as a burden he could no longer bear alone.

He looked at Y/N, her face, usually so closed off, now peaceful in sleep, her features softened by the fever. She had given him a trust he hadn’t asked for, but that he hadn’t known how to refuse.

She was no longer an instrument of vengeance, no longer just a target. She had become… his responsibility.

And for the first time, Cassius wondered if he needed her as much as she needed him.

---

The morning rose peacefully over the annex, a soft light filtering through the still-closed curtains. Y/N's fever had slightly subsided through the night, though it was still present. She was still sleeping, her pale face marked by exhaustion, but a sense of tranquility had replaced the restlessness of the previous day. Cassius, still by her side, silently observed the scene, his thoughts in turmoil.

He finally stood up to approach her, taking a moment to appreciate the simplicity of the moment. The weight of revenge, his relentless plan, suddenly seemed so distant, almost blurry. In this confined space, he no longer saw Y/N as the target of a complex scheme. No, he saw only a fragile, vulnerable young woman, dependent on him in a way he never could have imagined.

Suddenly, a slight movement. Y/N shifted under the covers, her hands trembling before reaching out slowly, with surprising gentleness. She extended her fingers as though trying to identify something in the darkness of the room. Her fingers slid slowly over Cassius's face, first on his cheek, then on his forehead, his eyes, exploring his face as if it were a mysterious puzzle she was trying to solve. She was blind, of course, but her movements were so filled with delicacy, with an almost innocent curiosity.

"Is it you?" Her voice was broken, but there was no aggression in her words. Just a softness, almost fragile, as though she sought the truth in a world she couldn’t see.

Cassius, caught off guard, remained still. He hadn't imagined that she would act this way, that in this state of weakness, she would allow herself to touch his face with such ease. It was a tender gesture, and it made a lump form in his throat. Part of him wanted to push her away, remind her of the reasons he was there. But another side of him, deeper, simply wanted to stay there, under her fingers, to be touched like an ordinary man, without the weight of revenge on his shoulders.

She finally turned away, as if she had found her answer, but her trembling fingers lingered for a moment, suspended in the air, before lowering back down onto the sheet.

"You're not what I thought," she murmured more softly, as if in realization.

A shockwave ran through Cassius. She wasn’t just a victim in his plan, not a puppet for his revenge. She was more than that. He wasn’t ready for this recognition, this return from Y/N. His own feelings seemed to change, realigning with each moment he spent by her side. The plan he had put together so carefully, every detail designed to destroy her family, suddenly became difficult to carry out. The image of Y/N blurred in his mind.

But he didn’t have time to lose himself in his thoughts. An unexpected visit arrived in the afternoon.

In the neighboring room, a messenger from the empire came to bring him urgent news. It was the man with whom he had long formed ties in the shadows, an influential figure in the empire who shared his ambitions. After exchanging a few words, the man presented an audacious proposal: an opportunity to take possession of Y/N's family fortune after their fall. This fortune, once belonging to his family, would now be in his hands, and all he had to do was continue his revenge, ensuring her family’s destruction.

Cassius felt a cold chill take over him, but it wasn’t because of the approaching winter. It was the heavy realization that flooded him. This proposal reeked of power, of revenge, but it was also poison. Every piece of the puzzle seemed to fit perfectly. The revenge he had built, as solid as a house of cards, seemed ready to collapse at any moment. But the question remained: would he be able to see it through?

He didn’t have time to respond immediately. His thoughts were spinning too fast, a mix of anger and confusion.

In the back of his mind, he knew what he had to do. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the chance to reclaim what he had lost. But deep in his heart, something more profound tormented him.

When he returned to Y/N’s room, he found her sleeping, her breathing calmer, but her fever hadn’t fully gone. Her face seemed more peaceful, without the frantic restlessness of the previous day. A faint smile formed on her lips as she slept, and a painful thought brushed Cassius’s mind.

How could he continue to treat her as a mere victim of his plan, when she was showing him a trust he hadn’t anticipated? He felt torn. He didn’t want to be that cold monster who would destroy her family, but he had invested too much time in this revenge to erase it all. And now that Y/N was closer to him, more human, he realized he didn’t know if revenge was still the only thing he truly desired.

Suddenly, he felt trapped. He had the opportunity to annihilate Y/N's family and seize a vast fortune, but at what cost? And what would happen to Y/N in all of this? The mere thought of seeing her destroyed because of his own desire for revenge put him in a state of deep confusion. His emotions were at war, and he no longer had any certainty about the path ahead.

He sat down beside the bed, looking at her deeply, as though it were the last time he could truly see her without the weight of his vengeance. But, deep down, he knew the time for decisions was near. The question now was simple: would he be able to sacrifice everything for a different future? A future with her, or a future where he would be alone with his revenge?

But for now, all that mattered was Y/N’s fever. He would watch over her, again and again, without knowing what the future held.

---

The morning light barely filtered through the windows when Cassius rose, his eyes fixed on Y/N's face. She was still asleep, her features calm as the fever that had gripped her slowly began to fade. Yet, in the silence of the room, he could feel the weight of his own thoughts, the vise tightening around his heart and mind. He no longer had room for indecision.

The messenger, the influential man from the empire, had handed him the opportunity he had long dreamed of. Revenge was within reach. Y/N's family, the family that had brought about his downfall, would soon be shattered, and the fortune he sought would fall into his hands. A brand-new empire to build from the ashes of those who had destroyed him. In his mind, it was a perfect plan. He had crafted it with precision, every move calculated, every detail considered.

But something had changed, something subtle yet powerful. It was the image of Y/N, fragile, vulnerable, caught between fear and trust. She, despite her wounds, her anger, and her mistrust, had allowed him to get close. She, in her greatest weakness, had reached out to him. She, despite her blindness, seemed to see something in him that he didn’t understand, but that deep in his heart, had transformed him.

Days passed, and each moment spent by her side seemed to reshape his view of the world. He had sworn that nothing, no one, would stop him in his pursuit of revenge. But now, he found himself at a crossroads. Revenge… or Y/N.

He turned toward her, his eyes fixed on the fragile figure lying in her bed. He remembered the way she had touched him, trying to understand the mystery of his face, as if she believed he was anything but what he appeared to be. That gesture had marked him more than he had ever imagined. An indelible memory. A doubt. A conflict.

A long sigh escaped his lips as he stood. His mind fought against itself, torn between the calculated coldness of his revenge and the strange warmth that seemed to rise within him for Y/N. He could no longer pretend that all of this was just about a plan. His feelings were now intertwined in a complex and painful web.

He approached Y/N, kneeling beside the bed. He looked at her for a moment, hesitating. Then, he gently reached out toward her forehead, touching her fevered skin. He remembered the warmth of her fingers when she had brushed his face, the strange connection that had formed with each encounter, each word exchanged. The tenderness he had felt in that sudden touch… He couldn’t ignore it. She wasn’t like the others, but not in the way he had once thought. She wasn’t weak. She was just… human.

"I will protect you," he murmured, almost like a vow.

The decision, finally, was taking shape. Cassius knew what he had to do. He could no longer manipulate Y/N. He could no longer view her as a mere pawn in his game. He had seen her, listened to her, and now he understood her more than he ever felt capable of. It was her family he wanted to destroy, not her. And if that meant changing his plans, taking reckless risks to help her, then he was ready to do it.

It wasn’t revenge that called to him now. It was her. Y/N. The young woman he had come to know, who, despite all she had endured, possessed a strength he never would have believed could exist within her.

He stood up, his gaze resolute. The outside world would take care of its own cruelties. But Y/N, she deserved something different. And for the first time since he had entered her life, Cassius felt he was making a decision for himself. Not for his family, nor for his past. But for her.

He leaned over her again, this time with gentleness, and caressed her cheek. The moment had come.

"I will save you, Y/N," he said more firmly. "I will save what I can save."

He had made his decision. Everything was now clear. His thoughts were untangling, and the horizon before him seemed as uncertain as it was promising. Revenge, wealth—none of it mattered anymore. What he wanted now was to protect her.

And to do that, he knew his allies in the empire, those who had supported his machinations, would soon be in conflict with him. But he was ready. The man who had designed such a cold, precise plan was now being carried away by another feeling, one more human, more pure.

The coming days would be crucial. The lines between love, loyalty, and revenge would likely blur. But Cassius was no longer afraid to face that truth. He would save Y/N. No matter the cost.

---

The nights stretched into a litany of reflections and torment. Each minute, each moment spent with Y/N slowly broke down the walls of his certainties. Cassius had sworn, multiple times, not to let his feelings interfere with his revenge. He had told himself that everything he was doing was to right the wrong done to his family, to take back what life had stolen from him. But with every glance he cast at Y/N, every time he saw her in her innocence, in her vulnerability, he felt something he had not anticipated.

He had not seen this coming. He had not understood the subtlety of the bond that had formed between them, slowly but surely. His emotions had become a whirlwind, his thoughts in perpetual battle. He had first seen her as an opportunity, a mere means to an end, but gradually, she had become more than that to him. A presence that occupied his mind far more than he would have liked.

He had watched her closely, the way she had clung to him during her illness, that fragile trust that slipped into her gestures, her words, her gaze. She had opened a door to him that he had never wanted to cross. The touch of her hands, the tenderness she had shown despite her blindness and pain… All of this had left indelible marks on his heart.

One evening, as he stood by the window, watching the glow of the moon reflecting off the calm surface of the nearby river, Cassius realized the truth. It was a raw revelation, without embellishments. He had fallen in love with her. He had tried to ignore it, to push the idea away, to convince himself it was just a distraction, a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of his revenge. But it was no longer possible.

The smile that formed on his lips was both sweet and bitter. He had lost himself, and he knew it. But strangely, this realization was not a source of suffering, as he had believed it would be. No, on the contrary. It brought a certain lightness to his heart, as if, somehow, he had found a little clarity amidst all the chaos.

He was no longer the same man. The revenge he had carried for years had dulled under the weight of his feelings for her. But the time had not yet come to abandon everything, not just yet.

A few days after this realization, an unexpected call broke the silence. It was a message from one of his connections in the empire, a powerful figure who reminded him of the offer he had received. The opportunity to carry out his revenge, to ruin Y/N's family once and for all, was within reach. It was only a matter of time.

And then, the unthinkable happened: Cassius found himself facing reality, torn between two worlds. The revenge that had brought him this far, and Y/N, the love he had discovered in her.

In the end, he knew what he had to do. Revenge could no longer be the only thing that mattered. But he couldn’t ignore what he had started either. He had not yet finished what he had begun. It was a commitment he had made to himself, and he could not go back, even if his heart screamed at him to flee with her, to abandon everything.

He woke up early one morning after making his decision. Y/N was sleeping deeply, and even though she was still weak, he knew she would wake up soon. He looked at her one last time, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He approached the bed, gazed at her tenderly, and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"I will return," he murmured, almost like a vow, a promise to himself more than to her.

Then, silently, he left the annex, taking the path that would lead him away from her, toward the place where his revenge still awaited to be completed. Every step he took was heavy, every decision seemed to wrap around him like an invisible rope.

However, in his heart, a small flame burned, a spark of hope he could not ignore. Y/N, despite everything, had changed his world. He didn’t yet know how or when, but he knew he would return to her. The revenge would be finished, but there was a future to rebuild. A future where, perhaps, by her side, he would finally find peace.

The wind was blowing strongly that morning, carrying away a part of his certainties. But something new, something truer than revenge, was growing inside him. And deep down, he knew it was that love he had to protect, far more than anything else.

---

The days passed with an almost unbearable slowness. Cassius had carried out his revenge with the precision of a strategist, each move carefully calculated, every trap set with ruthless mastery. He had used his allies in the empire to orchestrate the fall of Y/N’s family, acting in the shadows, manipulating the weaknesses of those who had stripped his family of their lands and titles. Schemes, rumors, false testimonies… everything was put in place to dismantle what had been taken from his family and return it to his own bloodline.

Y/N knew nothing of what was happening. She was still weak, still recovering from the fever that had shaken her, and Cassius continued to protect her, keeping her away from the dangers without her noticing. He had never wanted her to suffer any more because of his past. But he, himself, immersed in this world of manipulation and strategy, had lost all sense of direction. The revenge had been carried out. The titles, the lands, the fortune were now his.

When the final blow was struck, when the judges, corrupted and influenced by his maneuvers, brought down Y/N’s family, he felt neither satisfaction nor relief. On the contrary, a heavy weight settled on his shoulders. Everything he had accomplished, everything he had sought to obtain suddenly seemed trivial in his eyes. He stood at the top, the fortune he had long desired within reach, but he felt more lost than ever.

He went to the great hall where the new titles and documents were placed before him, signed, sealed, official. The land of his ancestors, the wealth, it was all there, in his hands. But when his gaze dulled on the paper, there was only one thought that occupied his mind: Y/N.

His gaze turned toward the annex. The place that had been his refuge, and hers, away from the tumult of the world. There, amidst the riches and conquests of his inheritance, he knew he would only find peace when he returned to her, to the one person who had made him doubt everything he had believed.

A storm wind blew within him. He had lost everything for his revenge… except her.

He hurried back to the annex, his heart pounding. When his eyes finally landed on her, lying there in her bed, pale but calm, he felt as though his entire previous life had been nothing but a blurry dream, a nightmare in which he had lost himself. He had won, he had regained what was rightfully his, but the emptiness he felt had nothing to do with the revenge completed.

He sat by Y/N’s side, observing her for a long time, as though it was the first time he had truly seen her. She didn’t understand what was happening, nor what he had accomplished. But he knew that he had sacrificed everything for this revenge. And yet, this victory meant nothing without her.

He leaned over her, gently brushing her hair, and whispered, "I can’t abandon you."

He knew that his actions would make people talk. His former allies, his family members, would all oppose him, oppose this decision. He risked finding himself alone, without support, without allies, but he didn’t care. Titles, wealth, none of that mattered anymore. What he desired now was his place by her side, her protection, and her love.

A great upheaval was taking place in the domain, rumors spreading at lightning speed. The former servants of Y/N’s family, those who had been left behind, destabilized by the fall of their house, began to regroup to contest the new division of assets. Family members, furious and disgusted by Cassius’s rise to power, no longer kept their distance. The old world was collapsing, and a new one was rising, with Cassius and Y/N at the center of it all.

Messengers came, letters arrived. But all of this seemed so distant, so insignificant compared to what truly mattered. The outside world could get lost in its power struggles. He no longer had a reason to care about that. Y/N’s eyes, those eyes that could no longer see but seemed to see beyond appearances, were now all that mattered.

"I’m going to keep you close to me, no matter what happens," he said, his voice trembling, but firm.

And so, Cassius made his decision, with no turning back possible. He stood up in the room, the official documents of his inheritance in hand, and turned one last time toward the door. The outside world awaited him. But for the first time, he knew exactly where he had to go. Where Y/N was.

He turned away from the imposing estate, from the wealth that was now his, and went to find the one he had learned to love despite himself. It didn’t matter that the rumors, conflicts, and the empire’s stakes fought to take his place. He had found his one true treasure.

Y/N. And he was going to protect her, at all costs.

---

The path to the annex had never seemed so long to Cassius. Every step felt like it was bringing him closer to his judgment, to that moment he had feared since leaving Y/N to complete his revenge. His victory was bitter, and the fear of facing the consequences of his choices weighed heavily on his heart. He didn’t know what he would say or how she would react. All he knew was that he could no longer stay away from her.

When he crossed the threshold of the annex, silence greeted him. The house seemed frozen in time, as if his absence had halted the world. He climbed the stairs leading to Y/N’s room, his trembling hand resting on the railing. He hesitated in front of the door, taking a deep breath before entering. He found her there, sitting on the bed, her face turned toward the open window, as if she could feel the wind to compensate for her lack of sight.

Y/N didn’t need to see him to know he was there. As soon as she had heard the sound of his footsteps in the house, her heart had tightened. A quiet rage filled her, mixed with a sadness she didn’t know how to express. When he finally entered the room, she didn’t give him the chance to speak. She grabbed an object from her table—a metal box—and threw it with all her might in his direction. The impact was brutal, hitting him squarely in the head. Cassius staggered, but didn’t retreat.

Silence fell again in the room, heavy and suffocating. Cassius, his lips pressed together, raised a hand to his temple where a thin line of blood began to trickle. He didn’t move, standing there, just a few steps away from the woman he had betrayed.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice trembling but calm. It wasn’t the cry of an angry woman, but the painful question of someone who had been hurt to the core.

"Y/N..." he whispered, but she raised a hand to stop him.

"Don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear your excuses or explanations. I don’t want you near me, nor do I want you to try to touch me." Her voice was cold, but Cassius could hear the crack in every word, the mixture of emotions she was holding in with a force he could barely comprehend.

He took a step forward, but she instinctively pulled away, moving further from him. The tears she had tried to hold back finally welled up at the corners of her eyes. She turned her head toward him, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped the bed sheets.

"Do you know what I thought of you?" she said, her voice almost broken but strangely composed. "I thought you would be different. That you would be the person I’ve waited for my whole life. The one who would come into my cold, empty world and show me I was wrong. That the world wasn’t just filled with cruelty and lies. But all you’ve done is confirm what I already knew. I was wrong to trust you."

Cassius felt his heart shatter at her words. She was there, vulnerable, yet so strong in her pain. He would have preferred for her to hit him, to scream, to unleash her anger on him. But this calm resignation, these words full of disappointment, were a thousand times worse.

"Y/N, I..." He stopped, searching for the right words. But there were none. Nothing could erase what he had done, nothing could repair this betrayal.

She turned away, her shoulders shaking slightly as she tried to hold back her sobs. "I’ve never expected anything from anyone. Since I was a child, I learned that people are only there to take. And you, you were no different. You came here, and you took what you liked. You took my trust, you took my safety, and now, what do you want? For me to forgive you? For me to let you break me again?"

He took a step closer, despite her silent command, kneeling in front of her. "I’m sorry, Y/N," he murmured, his voice full of sincerity. "I’m sorry for everything. For using you, for leaving you in the dark. But believe me, I never wanted to hurt you. What I did… it was for my family, to right a wrong. But I didn’t know it would cost me you. That it would cost me your heart."

She didn’t respond, but her hands tightened even more around the sheets.

"I can’t change what I’ve done," he continued. "But I can choose what I do now. And all I want is to be by your side. No matter what it costs, no matter how long it takes. I love you, Y/N. And I won’t leave anymore."

A heavy silence followed his words. Y/N didn’t move, her tears continuing to fall silently. Cassius stayed there, kneeling, waiting for her to speak, for her to hit him, for her to reject him. But nothing came.

"You can stay," she murmured finally, her voice barely audible. "But don’t think I’m going to forgive you so easily."

Cassius nodded, grateful for that small chance. He knew that regaining her trust would take time, perhaps an eternity. But he was willing to do whatever it took for her. To fix what he had broken.

And in that fragile moment, a small spark of hope was born, lighting up a future they still had to build, step by step.

---

After their emotional confrontation, Cassius decided it was time to offer Y/N an environment more suited to her needs. He brought her back to the main estate, a vast manor surrounded by lush gardens, where she could benefit from all the comfort, care, and attention she deserved.

Aware that the current staff might be connected to past allegiances and eager to create a fresh start for the two of them, Cassius made the radical decision to dismiss all the employees of the estate. He then recruited a new team, carefully chosen for their discretion and dedication, to ensure impeccable service for Y/N.

The days that followed were marked by Cassius's constant efforts to seek forgiveness. Despite his new responsibilities as the master of the estate and manager of the family’s assets, he dedicated every free moment to Y/N. He accompanied her on walks through the gardens, describing in detail the colors of the flowers and the layout of the paths to make up for her blindness. He read books aloud to her, choosing stories that could move or make her smile. In the evenings, they shared intimate meals, where he made sure every dish was prepared according to her tastes.

Gradually, a new closeness developed between them. Y/N, initially reluctant, began to open up to him. Their conversations grew deeper, covering a range of topics from childhood memories to unspoken dreams. Affectionate gestures naturally emerged: a hand placed on hers during a reading, a shared laugh after a funny anecdote, a smile exchanged without the need for words.

One afternoon, while they sat on the terrace, enjoying the gentle breeze, Y/N turned her face toward Cassius. Her expression was serious, marked by a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"Cassius," she began softly, "there's something I need to know. What happened to my family?"

The silence that followed her question was heavy with meaning. Cassius felt his heart tighten, aware that the truth could break the fragile trust they had rebuilt. But he also knew that lying or omitting the truth were no longer options.

He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "Y/N, your family... was stripped of their titles and their assets. They had to leave the region and now live under modest conditions."

Y/N remained silent for a moment, processing the information. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, but tinged with sadness. "And it was you who orchestrated this, wasn’t it?"

Cassius lowered his head, ashamed. "Yes. It was my revenge for what they did to my family. But I never expected to meet you, nor to... fall in love with you."

She slowly nodded, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. "I understand. But that doesn’t make it any less painful."

He moved closer to her, gently taking her hand in his. "I’m willing to do anything to make up for my mistakes, Y/N. Tell me what I can do."

She squeezed his hand in return, a simple gesture but one full of meaning. "For now, let’s stay together. We’ll see what the future holds."

And so, despite the shadows of the past, they chose to walk forward together toward an uncertain future, but one full of hope.

---

The manor was silent, barely disturbed by the soft murmur of the wind against the windows. In their bedroom, the morning light filtered through the slightly open curtains, creating soft and warm shadows on the bed where Cassius and Y/N rested after a peaceful night. Their hands were intertwined, their connection stronger than ever.

It had been months since they married. A life together in this grand estate that had been the stage for so many changes, struggles, and, ultimately, an unexpected love. Y/N, once a quiet and solitary young woman, had found her place not only as a wife but also as a countess, the mistress of the house, a position she had never sought but held with dignity and intelligence.

Cassius was amazed every day at the way she managed the estate’s affairs, the way she helped him make strategic decisions. She had a sharpness that still surprised him. The woman he had loved had become a valuable ally, a strong partner full of wisdom. She never ceased to amaze him.

"Countess," he would say sometimes with a mischievous smile, "I suppose I should start addressing you like a servant now, shouldn’t I?" He loved seeing her face turn red, the charm of her embarrassment and humility still pure, even after everything they had been through together.

She would often respond with a half-smile, a bit shy but amused by his teasing. "You know very well I don’t care for the title. But I suppose I’ve earned being treated like a queen, haven’t I?"

"Ah, you’re making me work for it now," he teased with a smile, but always with a quiet admiration in his eyes. "But it suits you. The most beautiful countess in all the empire."

She would then give him a playful look before gently pushing him away, not without a small laugh. "I forbid you from making me blush any more."

One morning, however, as they found themselves alone in the bedroom, a different kind of silence settled in. Y/N, who was lying next to him, gently caressed his face as she often did. Her fingers glided over every contour, every line, as if trying to imprint every detail in her memory. She seemed lost in thought. Cassius watched her, a little lost in the stillness of the moment. Then, a question arose in his mind, a thought that had been gnawing at him for too long.

He bit his lip after asking the question, as if the idea that she might judge him differently terrified him. He had never thought of himself as an attractive man, despite his imposing size and rugged nature. He wasn’t someone people would admire for his looks, let alone someone a woman might desire for his outer beauty. He was simply... him.

"Y/N," he said, his voice a little lower, "if you could see me… would you still love me?"

He waited for her answer, his heart beating faster, but Y/N didn’t respond immediately. She stopped her caresses, taking a pause, and her gaze drifted into the distance for a moment. Then, slowly, she moved her arms around him, gently pulling him closer. She buried her face in his hair and held him tightly. Her arms wrapped around him with tenderness, like a silent promise.

"Don’t you think it’s strange, Cassius?" she whispered, her voice soft and comforting. "To only see the outside of people… when everything happens inside?"

Her words struck him like a lightning bolt, hitting his soul full force. A long silence settled, the air thick with deep emotion. Cassius closed his eyes, his heart heavy, as silent tears began to fall. It was the first time he felt such an emotional weight. He had never allowed himself to believe he deserved the love of a woman, let alone someone as pure and precious as Y/N. But there, in her arms, everything made sense. She didn’t love him for what he looked like on the outside, but for who he was on the inside. She saw beyond appearances, beyond the mistakes of the past. She saw his heart. And that was enough.

"I…" He couldn’t find the words. He simply let himself be carried away by Y/N’s embrace, drowning in the warmth of her arms, finally feeling at peace.

Y/N smiled as she heard him cry, but it was a gentle, protective smile. She leaned slightly and whispered in his ear, "You are my everything, Cassius. And that will never change, no matter what you see in the mirror."

Then, after a moment of silence, she added, teasing as if to lighten the atmosphere, "By the way, you look like a big baby in my arms, you know Cassi ?"

Cassius burst into laughter, breaking the weight of his emotions, and pulled away slightly from Y/N’s embrace to look at her. His eyes were still brimming with tears, but his smile was sincere and full of gratitude.

"I’m your big Cassi baby, huh?" he said with a soft laugh. "Well, I’d rather be that than your big problem."

"You’re that too, but I love you anyway," she replied with a laugh, teasing him while pulling him back into her arms.

In that suspended moment, where love and humor intertwined, Cassius knew deep down that everything he had been through, everything he had sacrificed, had been worth it. Because, in the end, the love he had searched for so desperately, the one he never believed was possible, was there, so close, in her arms, in Y/N’s smile.

And he knew, with a new certainty, that he no longer needed to look in a mirror to see who he was. Y/N saw him. And that was enough.

The End

..................................................................................

Bonus :

Years had passed, and the manor now echoed with a quiet happiness. Y/N and Cassius had built a peaceful life together, despite the weight of the past and the persistent whispers that ran through the empire. Now a respected countess and a beloved wife, Y/N had found her place, but a new trial had befallen her.

She was pregnant.

The news had been received with joy by her husband, but for Y/N, it carried an invisible weight on her shoulders. People talked. Superstitions spread through the streets, the salons, even the corridors of the estate. They whispered that she could only give birth to a child like her—one destined for darkness from their very first breath.

Y/N said nothing, but Cassius could see the turmoil in her delicate features, the exhaustion that had nothing to do with the pregnancy itself. Every caress on her belly was laced with a silent fear, a doubt that never truly left her.

— “Y/N… no matter what others say, our child will be loved, protected. They will never have to endure what you have.”

She didn’t answer, merely clutching the fabric of his tunic as if afraid to say something she would regret.

The hours were long, unbearable. Cassius had never felt so powerless. Y/N suffered, gasped, struggled. He stayed by her side, gripping her hand with a force that revealed his own anxiety. The midwives worked tirelessly around her, and finally, after hours of effort, a first cry rang out.

Their child was born.

A flood of emotions overwhelmed Cassius as he looked at the fragile little being in Y/N’s arms. His heart swelled with a love he had never thought possible. He pressed a kiss to his wife’s sweat-dampened forehead, whispering words of comfort.

But Y/N remained silent. Her face was pale, frozen in a troubling expression. Cassius first thought it was exhaustion, the toll of labor. But something was wrong.

At last, her voice broke the silence.

— “Cassius…”

He gently lifted his head, his fingers running tenderly through her damp hair.

— “Yes, my love?”

Y/N trembled slightly. Her hand tightened around the fabric of the blanket, and when she spoke again, her voice was hesitant, laced with deep fear.

— “Tell me… what does he look like?”

Cassius smiled softly, thinking he understood. He lowered his gaze to their child, ready to describe the features of the little life they had created.

— “He’s beautiful. He has your lips… and I think he has your nose too.”

But Y/N shook her head, interrupting his quiet admiration. Her hand clenched the sheets a little tighter.

— “No… I want to know…” She took a trembling breath. “Is he… normal?”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Cassius felt a shiver run down his spine. For a moment, he struggled to understand what she meant. Then, everything became clear.

She wasn’t asking if he was handsome. Nor if he had her features.

She wanted to know if he was blind.

Suddenly, a quiet anger stirred within Cassius. Not at her, but at the world that had left such deep scars on his wife—scars that made her believe that being different meant being a mistake.

With infinite gentleness, he placed the baby in Y/N’s arms. She trembled slightly, as if afraid to hear his answer. He then knelt beside her, cupping her face in his hands, his heart pounding.

— “Listen to me, Y/N.” His voice was soft but firm, a blend of tenderness and conviction. “Our child was born with your blood, with your legacy. Whether they can see or not, they are perfect. They are ours. They are loved.”

Y/N’s lips trembled. She still didn’t dare to touch her baby’s face, as if fearing she would discover a fate already sealed.

Cassius gently took her hand and guided it to the round little cheek of their child.

— “Do you feel that? Their breath, their warmth. It’s not what others see that matters—it’s what we feel.”

Slowly, Y/N nodded, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

— “They will be loved…” she finally murmured, as if making a promise to herself.

Cassius pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, then to their child’s.

— “More than anyone in this world.”

And in that room, illuminated by the flickering glow of candlelight, a new chapter began for them. A chapter where love triumphed over all beliefs. A chapter where Y/N, after years of doubting herself, finally learned that she had never been a burden or a mistake.

She was a miracle. And so was their child.

---

The days that followed were filled with a gentleness that Y/N had never known. Cassius watched over her and their child with almost exaggerated attentiveness. He worried about everything—whether she was eating enough, whether she was sleeping well, whether the baby was comfortable.

— "I’m fine, Cassius," she sighed one morning as he insisted on placing an extra pillow behind her head.

— "You say that, but you don’t realize how much exhaustion you’re accumulating."

Y/N smiled and reached out, a familiar gesture between them. Her fingers glided gently over his jawline, his nose, his lips.

— "You’re making that face where your brows are furrowed, aren’t you?"

Cassius sighed before pressing a kiss to her palm.

— "I’m just worried. You just gave birth, and…"

— "And you’ve become worse than an old nursemaid," she teased softly.

He pretended to be offended, but his smile betrayed him.

The whispers had not stopped. The rumor spread that the Countess’s child had been born blind. Nobles gossiped—some saw it as a curse, others offered false sympathy.

But Cassius let no one approach Y/N or their son with ill intentions.

One morning, as Y/N cradled their child, Cassius approached them.

— "He looks more and more like you," he said softly.

— "I wouldn’t know," she replied with a hint of amusement.

— "Then let me be your eyes."

Gently, he took her hand and placed it on the baby’s head.

— "His hair is fine, as dark as the night." He then guided her fingers over the baby’s soft, round cheek. "His skin is warm, delicate. And his lips…" He brushed them lightly with his fingers. "They’re like yours—full and gentle."

Y/N remained silent, savoring his words, her heart beating in time with the peaceful breathing of their child.

Then, as if by miracle, something unexpected happened.

The baby opened his eyes.

Cassius, who had never doubted his love for their child, froze for a moment. He had feared that Y/N would suffer if their child was like her, that she would feel an unjust sorrow.

But in that instant, all of it disappeared.

— "Y/N…" he murmured, his voice trembling.

She sensed his unease immediately.

— "What is it?" she asked.

— "His eyes." He swallowed hard. "They’re open."

Y/N’s own eyes widened slightly, though they saw nothing.

— "He… He can see?"

Cassius didn’t answer right away. He gazed at their son, at the bright, wide eyes staring back at them. The baby blinked a few times, curious, innocent. Then, he reached out his tiny fingers toward Y/N, seeking his mother’s touch.

A tear slipped down Cassius’s cheek.

— "Yes, Y/N… He can see."

A silence settled between them. Then, Y/N slowly nodded, her lips trembling slightly.

— "That’s good," she whispered.

Cassius had expected a stronger reaction—perhaps tears, a sob. But Y/N remained calm, her smile soft and serene.

— "You’re not… sad?" he dared to ask.

She shook her head.

— "No. Because it was never about normality. Just fear. Fear that he would go through what I have. But he never will. Because he has you. Because he has me."

Cassius took a deep breath, pulling his wife and son into his embrace.

— "He will always have us," he promised.

The years passed, and Cassius and Y/N’s son grew up surrounded by love. He was neither cursed nor a tragic legend, as the whispers of the past had claimed. He was simply a beloved child, a strong heir, carrying within his blood the story of a woman who had overcome darkness and a man who had learned that vengeance did not always bring peace—but love, it could.

Cassius never forgot the promise he had made to himself: Y/N would be happy.

And every day, he made sure of it.

---

The afternoon stretched lazily in Cassius’s study, bathed in golden light filtering through the large windows. Seated behind his desk, he held their six-month-old daughter, Evangeline, in his arms. She babbled softly, her tiny hands grasping at the buttons of his shirt.

Across the room, Y/N sat comfortably on a couch, gently caressing the face of their eldest son, Ambrose, as she listened to his enthusiastic murmurs about his latest "project." She had always had this tender habit—tracing the faces of those she loved to sense their expressions and guess their thoughts.

Cassius, who had been watching them for a while, finally sighed and said, half amused, half perplexed:

— "My dear… I think our son is strange."

Y/N raised an eyebrow in her husband’s direction before turning her head toward Ambrose.

— "Strange?"

Cassius nodded slowly while adjusting Evangeline against him.

— "He spends his time doing odd things. Just look at him. Or rather, listen to him."

Y/N listened carefully. Ambrose, only five years old, was kneeling on the rug, entirely focused on some mysterious activity. In front of him, feathers, books, and even a few gold coins were meticulously arranged in neat rows. He was whispering numbers as he counted, then stopped to adjust everything with an almost eerie precision.

Y/N reached out and gently ran her fingers over the top of his head.

— "Ambrose, what are you doing, my love?"

The child lifted his head seriously.

— "I’m putting everything in order, Mama. It’s important."

Cassius softly patted their sleeping daughter’s back before adding:

— "See? Yesterday, I caught him sorting my imperial seals by shades of red. And this morning, he refused to sit at the table because the chairs weren’t perfectly aligned."

Amused, Y/N stroked her son’s cheek.

— "He just likes things to be well organized."

— "No, no. It’s an obsession. The other day, I walked into his room and found him arranging pebbles… by size."

Ambrose frowned, crossing his small arms over his chest.

— "That’s logical. Big pebbles go with big ones, small ones with small ones. Why would you mix them?"

Y/N stifled a laugh while Cassius shook his head in exasperation.

— "You see? This isn’t normal. He has the mind of an old accountant before he’s even lost his first tooth."

Y/N placed a reassuring hand over her husband’s.

— "Maybe this is just his way of understanding the world. He inherited your attention to detail—you should be proud."

Cassius watched his son, who, after a brief hesitation, returned to aligning his objects with unwavering seriousness.

— "If he ever starts organizing my soldiers by height, that’s when I’ll sound the alarm."

Y/N burst into laughter, and after a moment, Ambrose smiled too.

Cassius let out one last sigh, kissed Evangeline’s head tenderly, then reached out to ruffle his son’s hair.

— "Alright, little genius. Keep aligning the world as you see fit… But I warn you, I refuse to have my county turned into a geometric arrangement someday."

Ambrose beamed proudly, and Y/N, her heart full of love for her family, intertwined her fingers with her husband’s.

Everything was exactly where it belonged.

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