#optimism?? in my tags?? certainly no.

[spade-club]

Had a nightmare last night and in typical me fashion, I forgot about it but as soon as I got in my car after work it just crashed down on me what happened and why its. A problem. I havent had a sexual dream that clearly triggered me in a very obvious way in a while. I forget how fucked up it is to wake up and know that theres a part of me thats so used to being treated that way that it hardly registers as a bad dream despite it clearly being distressing. I wish I could make sense of dreams like this, especially considering the severity of them and what they do to me. I have so many suspects for what could have happened to me, isnt that fucked up? I can't trust any of my memories or experiences. My dreams wont let me forget but I dont think I'm capable of remembering, isnt that fucked up? I just want to heal. I just want to be free. I dont want to be afraid anymore.

[invinciblerodent]

i say this with all the calculatedly cautious optimism in the world, i swear, if people Andromeda (as a verb) Veilguard/Dreadwolf, write it off as a horrible terrible failure, and fill every discussion with fatalistic bull they concocted from half-sentences all on their own before they'd not even play, but just SEE even one minute of it, I will start biting

[undedkat]

In university you spend a lot of time discussing optimization for algorithms and it’s surprising because then you enter the industry and most optimization is just determining how often to run jobs (if at all) and if you’re over provisioning resources.

But then every so often at work I have to ask someone if they can convert an O(n) operation to an O(1) or O(log n) and it makes sense.

[oneeyedlove]

Peace.

summary | you find yourself striding towards Aemond’s chambers to confront him about his behavior at dinner, things take a turn.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Strong niece!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! Unprotected sex. PinV, arguing, mentions of violence, chocking, incest, creampie, cockwarming (?).

wordcount | 4.6 k

note | this is my first time writing smut so cut me some slack plss, english is not my first language and I don’t know if i like this.

The pounding of determined steps echoed through the secret tunnels of Maegor’s holdfast as you made your way towards a certain prince’s chambers. Surprised as you were that your family whistood dinner without altercations as far as they did, the feeling of hope for a truce between the opposite sides of House Targaryen died the moment that word escaped Aemond’s lips. Spiteful litte things he and Aegon were, endlessly searching for a wound to poke at— that was usually found in your brother’s tempers.

Your and your siblings’ bastardy was no secret to any soul who paid attention although it didn’t bother you in the least. Having known fatherly love from three different men as your mother’s only daughter made your upbringing eventul, but it did not stop you from becomig a bright and optmistic young woman. Said optimism being the reason why tonight’s sudden quarrel left such anguish in your heart.

Placed between Jacaerys and Aegon at the dinner table, your finger tracing the rim of the wine cup by your side, you could not help but daydream about the pleasantness of this evening extending itself into daily life. The muffled laughter Lucerys emitted pulled you back into reality and the smile faded from your face at the sight of a pig stowed before the one eyed prince. Your brown eyes met his lilac one as he stood, your pleading gaze exchanged in vain for he said the dreadful phrase regardless.

You blamed him as you paced before the hidden entrance of the silver prince’s chambers, pondering whether it would be wise to burst in unannounced— it most likely was not. Aemond was never one to display his thoughts without an ulterior motive, so invading his personal lounge would be an open attempt at understanding him, a desire you had hoped would remain silent in your heart. Against better judgment, you stepped through the stone wall by his bed. Shivering at the frigidness in your stomach, you took in the room. It looked uneasily tidy as you touched the soft linens on the bed with the tip of your fingers, thinking it was obvious the stoic prince would have an obnoxiously clean chamber. The moment your eyes found the back of his head a breath stuck in your lungs, fearing he would sense your presence.

Seated in the armchair before the fireplace, he twirled a golden coin between his knuckles, watching it’s mesmerizing choreography. Aemond had noted your presence long before you entered his apartments, the sounds of your nervous marching thundered in his ears. However, the hour of the wolf was an unexpected moment for you to come to him. He reckoned you would confront him after the events of dinner, but never would have thought to meet your scolding outside the security of daylight.

You crept further into the chamber, standing a mere five paces behind him as your heartbeat roared in your chest. If the prince had not heard you before, he certainly had now. A smirk hid from your gaze as he placed the coin on the armrest’s leather, Aemond amusingly waited your words.

“Uncle.” Your voice escaped your lips, sounding more hesitant than you intended to.

His body rigid as a pillar, the silver haired man slowly rose to his feet, his shoulders broad and muscular. He took a deep breath as he caught your eyes with his good one, his penetrating gaze watching your every move. When he finally spoke, a familiar, biting tone filled your ears.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, dear niece?”

“I wish to speak about your behavior at dinner.” As much as you tried not to sound as a wounded child, the tartness in your mouth was filled with youthful resentment.

“Are you here to yell at me, then?” He cocked his head, your eyes gleaming under the candlelight as his gaze traveled from your face to your feet, taking in your features.

The prince would never consider himself a foolish man. Every piece of him sculpted through years of exhaustive dedication, he had scraped each flawed aspect of his mind and body until it reached perfection. Aemond had disciplined his thoughts and actions towards any living creature ever since claiming Vhagar, with all but one exception: you. It was pathetic, really, how his tamed heart turned moronic in your presence. Your laughter had welded itself into his soul from the moment he first heard it as a boy, his secret devotion never surrendering to the test of time.

As if a plague crawling inside him, the yearning for your affection clouded his judgment, forcing his dutifulness out of reach. It was easy to hate Rhaenyra and her progeny, his mother had taught him their mere existence was a disgrace to the realm, a sin that tarnished the mighty House Targaryen. Nevertheless, your impertinence in addressing him this way could only lengthen his doubts — the narrative that someone withholding of such kindness and loyalty could be unholy was ludicrous in the least.

"Why must you be insufferable at all times?" You gave in to the infantile urges that plagued you, rolling your eyes at him — being almost a woman grown, it was shameful how he managed to get underneath your skin, even if you did not show it as much as your brothers.

Aemond chuckled darkly, his lips curving up in a twisted smile as he watched you. He took a step closer, his stride slow, calm, much like a hunter stalking his prey. You knew he could hide his boyish petulance far better than yourself and yet a glimmer of irritation from your words could be seen in his lilac eye.

“Did I strike a nerve?” He asked, taking another step closer, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Or are you just sore from me speaking the truth?

"Your jab at my bastardy brings me no pain, Aemond. I have never denied the truth." The boiling in your blood had not come from his insults, you were already used to them.

"The insufferableness I refer to is your need to ruin everything."

“And you expect me to believe that you’re here simply because I ‘ruined dinner?’” Aemond chuckled again, his smirk widening at your insolent stare.

"You ruined the chance our family had to start anew, to forget about all the resentment and rage. I am aware of your hate towards Lucerys for maiming you that night at Driftmark, but can't you find it in yourself to forget? We were children." Even as your pleads traveled across the room, your newfound confidence maintained a stern tone in your voice.

His expression changed, a flicker of something grim passing through his eye. His jaw clenched and the smirk disappeared, though he took another step further, his figure looming over yours. He reached a hand out, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

“Forget?” He asked, his voice quiet and deadly.

“How do you expect me to forget, when it was your bastard brother who stole me my eye?”

"You lost an eye but you gained a dragon, as you said so yourself.“ You pushed his hand away, releasing yourself from his grasp as you took a step back.

“None of us mourn your eye anymore Aemond, not even your childish self."

Your touch in his hand lingered in his skin, even if it had been brief— to push him away. His thoughts raced through his mind, how could you expect him to forgive it? The incident at Driftmark surely won him Vhagar, but it earned him humiliation and disgust all the same. He could not bear the glares bestowed upon his scar, some filled with pity, others with repulse and fear. Her brother had left him crippled, a prince that would never be whole. In one swift motion, Aemond grabbed your throat, forcing you to stumble backwards until your back hit the pillar beside the chamber’s sitting room. The cold stone pressed against your body as his fingers dug into your skin.

“Do not speak of matters you know nothing of.” He hissed through clenched teeth.

Even as stings of pain cut into the muscles of your neck, you had not flinched, the ire you suppressed for so long consuming you entirely. Your eyes seeing nothing but red, a hand met his face as a loud thud vibrated through the chamber. You had punched him. He recoiled from the hit, his cheek stinging and his face shocked. He brought a free hand up to his face to touch his now bruised cheek. It stung, but something about the feeling made him hungry for more.

“You shouldn’t have done tha—.” He spat his words before you interrupted him.

“Take my eye.” You brought your hands to hold his wrist, hoping it would make him soften his grip.

“Take it. Have your revenge and be done with all this bother.” Your gaze never flickered, staring at him with determination in your eyes.

He was surprised, to say the least. He didn’t expect you to say something like that, and for a moment he just held you in place, his breath coming out in ragged breaths as he looked down at you. The prince studied your face, looking for a sign of deceit, for a hint of fear, but all he found was defiant eyes looking back at him. He grunted, a deep, guttural sound from the back of his throat.

“Is that what you want?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I will do what I must to protect my blood. If this will help in mending our family it is a price I'll gladly pay."

“You would do that for your bastard brothers?” He asked quietly, a hint of disbelief in his voice as pressed closer to you, his body trapping you against the wall as he moved his hand from your neck to gently place his fingers on your jawline.

"I would do it for anyone in this family if it gave us peace.“ You said, feeling your skin tingle at his soft touch.

“Even you.”

Truer words had never been said. You had no desire to lose an eye, naturally, but if it was the needed punishment you would receive it without hesitation. If it had to be you, you would do it for your relatives, for yourself, for him. For the boy you loved so dearly, the sweet version of Aemond that was shy and gentle — he deserved better. You knew he was trapped inside of the villainous mask the prince wore but was still there. And you would love him eternally, all of him, all the dark fragments of who he now was. Although, he could never let you. So you would allow your adoration succumb to violence if it would succeed in attaining peace.

The words cut him like an arrow through the heart. He felt his muscles tense and for a moment he was sure he would squeeze your throat and end it right there. But something stopped him, whether it was your words or the fact that having your face so close, gleaming in the soft light of the fireplace, made something inside him soften. He finally found it in your eyes, what he searched for so long — the same cherishing ardor he hid inside himself. His eye flickered desperately in its socket, he had to be sure it wasn’t a dream, a cruel jest his subconscious was playing on him. But it was real. Aemond knew, right then and there, that he could have the whole world at his feet and he would still beg on his knees for you.

He watched your eyes gazing over his face, taking in your expression as his change took place. He saw the way your eyes became hazy, the way your lips parted slightly as if to say something but then closed shut again. He could feel the heat pooling in his lower abdomen, a wave of burning hunger flowing through his veins. Relishing in the feel of your small frame, your breath hitching as your chest rose and fell against his, so innocent and yet calling to him like a siren.

Before you could fathom what provoked his sudden change in demeanor, he clashed his lips into yours. The kiss was rough and desperate, a collision of teeth and tongue as he pressed your body into the wall. You moved your hands to his chest, tiny and soft against the hard muscle. He felt something tighten in his groin and he groaned into the kiss, his tongue desperately searching for more of yours. He tasted you — sweet, like sugarcane and vanilla, and he couldn’t get enough. If he had known how intoxicating your touch would be, he would have indulged in it until he made himself a drunkard.

He pushed his body closer to yours, pinning you completely against the wall, his knee coming between your legs automatically as he continued the hungry assault on your mouth. You weren’t unholy, he could see it now. But if loving you was a sin, he would gladly worship your wickedness.

He placed his hand on the side of your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as he parted his lips from yours. Your foreheads touching as he opened his eye to look for your reaction, your face was flushed, your lips bruised and swollen from his rough kisses — he found the sight unbelievably arousing. You had not expected him to ignore your demand to gauge out your eye, thinking his hatred was everything you could ever have, much less kiss you. The longing and passion emanating from his touch made it clear he had been hiding from you for this long, but there was still a piece of you that needed to be sure.

Your eyes looked up at him, his lips red from friction and his luscious hair messier than usual. You could feel his hardened length on your upper thigh, the feeling sending chills through your body. You wanted him, the gods know you did, but he needed to show you his feelings were honest.

“Tell me this is real.” You said as your fingers traced soft patterns over his black tunic.

He stared at you in confusion for a brief moment, then realizing you had the same doubts he had. A loving smile made its way into his face as he spoke, the once familiar anger that filled his voice was now replaced with pure adoration.

“I need you. I have always needed you.” He whispered, the words twirling out of his lips.

“Then have me.” You said, a new sense of confidence washing over you alongside a heat that pooled in your belly.

Aemond’s eye widened as you kissed him, the action catching him off guard. It took him a moment to process that was you were asking, but when he did; he grabbed your waist and pushed you further into the stone wall. He leaned down, towering over you as he did, and kissed you back. Hard. As a soft moan hit his ear, a wave a desire washed over him. He felt an instinct, a burning need to hear more of those sounds escape your mouth. He wanted to hear you cry and moan and gasp for breath, and he wanted to be the only one to hear it.

Your hands found the back of his head, your fingers interwoven in his silver hair as you pulled him closer. His leg pressed itself again into your core, the heat stemming from your cunt could surely be felt through the fabric of your dress. His fingers digging almost painfully into your hips, he moved his other hand down, grabbing your leg and pulling it over his hip, pressing his body against yours and pinning you there.

He broke the kiss, panting, as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. He nipped and kissed your skin as if he were a starved man. Aemond had treasured you in secret for so long, the feeling of being held in the same regard by you made his head spin — you would be his forever, he had to make sure of that.

The sensitive skin of your neck reddened at each teasing action he bestowed upon it, your body aching in desire. He relished the small gasps and mewls that the simple action of his mouth against your flesh caused you to make. The soft, reddening mark he was leaving on your skin, from his lips and teeth as he marked you as his own, making him more and more possessive with every soft bite. His grip on your hip became more firmer, his hand on your waist digging in, no doubt leaving his mark there too.

You had never been touched like this before and it felt good, the thought of giving yourself to Aemond felt right somehow. Your hands found the metal buckles of his tunic, hastening to undo them and reveal his pale chest. He shivered at the feeling of your fingernails running over his bare abdomen, trails of yearning left behind. The prince could feel himself coming undone at the simple action. He was like a young boy again, his inexperience showing through how he reacted so readily to being touched. He grabbed your wrists with one hand, pinning them above your head against the wall, to stop you from exploring any further. His other hand began to roam over your body, gripping your thigh and moving higher until his hand disappeared under your skirts.

You let out a loud whine as his finger slipped over your drenched slit, waves of pleasure sent through your being. You felt yourself melting as he explored your folds at an ungodly slow pace, the tip of his long finger pressing against your pearl. He let out a soft snicker into your ear as he heard the sound that escaped your lips, a smirk of satisfaction appearing on his own. He nipped at your earlobe as he slowly pushed a long, lean finger into you. He let out a soft huff of air, as he felt how warm and tight you were. He slowly began to move inside you, at the same painfully slow pace. As his thumb began to slowly rub your clit, you were sure your cries had been heard from outside his chamber — and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Aemond watched as you closed your eyes and opened your mouth, and he smiled at the sight of your pleasure. He watched as your hips slightly bucked to meet his touch, and he took it as a sign to be rougher, and to give you even more. He moved faster and harder as he touched you, his thumb rubbing against you in a circular motion. The prince felt his breathing get shaky as sounds of your whimpers and moans filled his ears. The feel of your body trembling in pleasure, your arms wrapping around him and you scratching the back of his neck brought him nothing but complete ecstasy. He felt your body shuddering as your release washed over you, and he couldn’t help but let out a quiet moan of his own in response, relishing the sounds and the feeling of you being so overwhelmed under his touch.

You let out a cry at the loss of his finger, but he left you no time to argue as he grabbed your shoulders and turned you so your back was pressed onto his chest. The prince found the lacings of your corset, undoing them and revealing your bare skin. He turned you to face him again, the lace that had been covering your chest, was now on the floor and you were only left with your thin shift. He could see your figure through the translucent fabric, could see the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed faster and harder.

He led you, by the hips, over to the bed and slowly pushed you down until you were on your back. Aemond loomed over you, taking a moment to look down, eyes roaming over your body as he admired the sight of you on his bed, flushed, half naked and panting. You looked magnificent, he was sure you were the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms — and he reveled in the fact that you were his.

You never took your eyes off him, as embarrassed as you were to have his eyes scan your body like a madman. Watching as he undid the laces of his breeches, you let out a soft gasp as he kicked the fabric alongside his small clothes to the floor, kneeling over you completely bare. He was lean, strong and pale, covered in a fine layer of small white scars — surely obtained through sword fighting. There was a small dusting of silver hair that started at his pelvis and traveled up his abdomen. Your eyes found his cock, long and hard, pulsating with desire.

You furrowed your brows and sat up in the bed, grabbing the end of your shift and pulling it over your head. You saw Aemond’s pupil dilate at the sight of your naked body, feeling a small satisfaction in knowing he wanted you this much. He was mesmerizing, a true Valyrian beauty, and it delighted you to know he was yours.

“I want to see all of you.” You whispered, staring at his eyepatch.

Aemond’s good eye widened as he understood what you meant. He was used to aversion and horror being directed towards his deformity and never thought someone would ever want to see it in such a moment. He hesitated before moving his arm up and seizing the black leather in his hand, letting it fall to the bed. A sapphire eye cut through with a reddened scar stares back at you, the candlelight shining in the deep blue of the gem. You moved your hand to the side of his face and admired him, feeling his uneasiness at being vulnerable before you.

“It is beautiful.” You say as tenderness fills your heart.

The prince wasted no time as he pulled you into a deep kiss. He felt unconditionally happy at your response, the need he held growing stronger as he laid you back into the mattress. His hand cupped your breast, fondling the peak in devotion as the other found your waist. He let out a groan at the touch of his cockhead against your bare cunt, pleasure ripping through his body.

“I cannot wait any longer.” He said in ragged breaths.

You nodded in response and that was all he needed for order for him to give in to the craving he felt for you. He moved his hands and placed them instead on your hips, holding your body down on the bed as he positioned himself on top of you. He looked down at your frame, his heart racing with need and anticipation, as he looked into your eyes.

"Tell me if I need to stop." He said gently, before slowly pushing his hips forward against your body.

You gasped alongside him as you felt his cock stretch your walls, the foreign sensation striking painfully. He kissed you gently as he could feel how your body was adjusting to him, how tight you were around his length, and it made him feel completely overwhelmed. He pulled away from the kiss for just a moment, looking down at you as he slowly pushed deeper inside. You stayed like that for a moment, letting yourself get used to accommodating him.

After what Aemond felt like were hours, he noticed you bucking your hips forward, pleasuring yourself. He smirked at the sight and your hips moving against him made the silver prince feel an insane wave of desire wash over him. He knew you were enjoying it, and it only made him feel hungrier for you. He began to move his hips back and forth, in a slow, gentle back and forth motion at first. Feeling himself almost losing control as he looked down at you, your expression filled with nothing but pleasure and satisfaction.

“Aemond.” You let out.

He could feel the desire within him become almost uncontrollable as he heard your lustful words. He felt a rush of adrenaline running through him as he looked down at you, your body underneath him, and all he could think about was how good you felt. He pulled his hips back and pushed forward again, this time with a little more force and speed than before. And again, and again, until he was completely lost in the sensation of you and the feeling of having you underneath him.

You were in pure ecstasy, lost in the feeling of being with him. The sound of his heavy breaths and the pleasure filled sounds leaving his mouth made your body shiver in response. He continued to move his hips, back and forth in a rougher and faster pace, holding you closer to him as you felt the tightening in your belly grow more and more intense. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders, scratching his back to mark him as he did you.

The memories of your childhood together filled his mind. How you would read together in the library, how you defended him from his brother and yours and especially how you laughed so easily in his presence. He loved how you were filled with so much joy, a true beam of sunlight inside the Red Keep. He knew then how you would intertwine yourself into his heart and take it for yourself — and he let you.

Aemond could feel his climax growing closer, the feeling of your full breasts against him and your body shaking in response becoming too much to hold back. He felt like he had died and found himself in the greatest of heavens, all he wanted to do was surrender himself completely to the moment.

"I’m close." He said faintly, his breathing ragged and his heart beating faster with every passing second.

Your tightened your grip on his back, your nails digging into his skin, filling him with a mixture of pleasure and pain. It was just the right thing to send him over the edge, to make his body give in completely. He let out a low, guttural moan as he felt himself reach his peak, and he felt both your bodies shake in response to the overwhelming euphoria that washed over them. He sent a few more thrusts inside you, your walls clenching as you took his seed.

You two stayed that way, a mess of sweat and disheveled breaths as you rode out of your trance. His hand drew patterns on your outer tight while you ran your fingers through his silver locks, both hearts brimming with love. You longed for each other in secret for years, miserable at the thought of having the other’s hatred to call their own. But now, caged in a chaos of limbs over the soft linens of his bed, it all felt far away, for he was yours and you were his.

“I love you.” He mumbled against your skin.

“I love you as well.” You answered, a soft smile on your lips.

There could never be a truce over the divide that wedged itself between the sides of mighty House Targaryen, but you would be each other’s peace.

From now until death parts you.

[kakushino]

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.

[barnacles34]

Beautiful Relationship

Tags: Romance, Sex, soft Ryujin, she likes books, male reader

The foggy weather clung to my skin like a second layer, a damp embrace that blurred the edges of the world around me as I stepped out of the condo. Each step felt light, almost floating, buoyed by the strange clarity that had settled over me. The condo itself—where I had just experienced something raw, something deeper than anything I’d known—felt miles away already, even though Ryujin's presence was still etched into my senses. Her face buried in a book, she had waved lazily from the large leather couch as I left, a gentle smile on her lips, a silent reassurance that lingered in the back of my mind.

The streets outside were nearly empty, a ghostly contrast to the usual bustling of Seoul. It was the kind of solitude I had long craved, the quiet that comes after the rain when the air smells of wet earth and fresh grass, mingling with the faint, distant scent of exhaust and city life. The kind of quiet where thoughts can breathe, where the world's noise feels muted, and the only sound is the gentle patter of raindrops on pavement. I inhaled deeply, feeling a strange contentment in the cool, misty air—a sensation that was somehow both calming and electric.

Enough of the background setting drivel. My mind snapped back to the task at hand as I drove toward Samsen HQ, the cityscape slipping by in a blur of gray and silver. The receptionists at the front desk were visibly surprised at my unexpected arrival. I saw them exchange glances, a flicker of confusion passing over their faces before they snapped back into their polished smiles. I had been absent from the office for a few days—unusual for me, and certainly enough to stir the quiet currents of office politics that always buzzed beneath the surface. There was always a game being played here, even if you sat at the top.

The days of absence had been deliberate, of course, a move calculated to keep the lesser sharks on their toes, to stoke the fires of intrigue among those who thought they could outmaneuver me. Let them wonder, let them speculate—it kept them busy and distracted. To be honest, the supposed mind games were more of an ego trip than any real threat. These pretenders held barely any power to undermine me. They were nuisances at best, and any one of them could be removed with a single call. The irony was almost amusing. I had the president’s number on speed dial, and yet these people acted as if they could orchestrate my downfall with hushed whispers in the hallways.

“Viva la Seoul!” I muttered to myself, a half-smile playing on my lips as I navigated the labyrinthine corridors of corporate life. The place had always fascinated me, with its paradoxes and its hypocrisies, its cutthroat maneuvering, and its strange, almost poetic absurdities. The Nietzschean interns who would debase themselves for a fraction of my hourly wage, desperate for approval or advancement. The older managers, balding and paunchy, somehow managing to crawl up the ladder faster than those who had dedicated themselves to optimal efficiency and health.

Was I evil for thriving in this environment? Was there something fundamentally wrong with finding beauty in these contradictions, in relishing the dance of corporate warfare? The thought amused me more than it should have. Maybe it was the fact that my entire existence was built around these principles, these axioms of survival. Maybe that was why I found it so hard to believe that anyone else could see the world any differently.

But then there was Ryujin, the outlier, the anomaly that challenged everything I thought I knew. She was proof that there was another way, that life didn’t have to be a series of calculated moves, that it could be something more—a mix of spontaneity and sincerity, without pretense or strategy. She was the exception to the rule, enough to make me question the very foundations of my beliefs, to make me wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was a different way to play the game.

The danger she posed was undeniable—she could unravel me, expose me to vulnerabilities I hadn’t known existed. And yet, the benefits she offered were so much more profound, so much more intrinsic. With her, everything seemed more vivid, more real. The same conversations I’d grown to hate with others—talks of relationships, the future—felt fresh and exciting with her, filled with possibility and promise.

I was so lost in thought that I almost missed the knock at my door, the sharp rap that pulled me back into the present. My new secretary entered without waiting for a response, a young woman with bright eyes and a sharp tongue, one of the few I hadn’t hired for her looks or her connections but for her brains and her grit. She had been foisted on me by my so-called equals, who thought I needed someone to keep me in check. They didn’t realize that I’d turned her into an asset, someone who could see through the corporate fog almost as well as I could.

“Sir!” she burst out, a hint of panic in her voice. “A rival competitor has just published an article about your recent absence. And they’ve announced a new home appliance chain aimed directly at Samsen’s market.”

I felt a slow smile creep across my face. “Good,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Let them make their moves.”

It was showtime. The familiar thrill of the game flooded through me, sharpening my senses, focusing my mind. The room seemed to hum with a new energy, the fog outside thickening as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

I liked the unpredictability, the dance of strategy and counter-strategy. I could already imagine the maneuvers that would follow, the ripple effects of this new announcement, the way I would turn this challenge into an opportunity. In the end, it was all just another move on the board, another chance to prove that I was still the master of this game.

But even as I prepared to dive back into the fray, my thoughts drifted back to Ryujin. Her face, her smile, the way she made everything seem a little less bleak, a little less calculated. She was the only unknown variable, the one piece of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit. And maybe that was why I couldn’t stop thinking about her, even now, with the scent of competition in the air and the thrill of the fight ahead.

“Alright,” I said, snapping back to the moment, my voice calm but firm. “Let’s see what they’ve got.”

The secretary nodded, turning to leave, but not before casting a quick, curious glance over her shoulder. I didn’t mind. Let them wonder. Let them speculate. They had no idea what was coming next. Neither did I, but for once, that uncertainty felt like an advantage.

—--

After a whole day’s worth of intrigue, the outside felt damper than before with the slight tint of the night on the sky. The executive cars quickly pulling away to their respective areas after Samsen closed in a new historic high on the stock market. Greene’s power laws were accurate, accurate in their vagueness, in what constitutes as a power play, a masterful case of deception, and it just so happens that I have internalized it. 

Crooked? Maybe. 

The drive back home felt even fresher, unburdened by the rush of being down on the market, and burdened by the smell fresh of the damp grass, the damp streets with my windows all the way down. Pedestrians drew their phones, seeking to record the person that seemingly sways the national politics wherever he went. 

I promise you this is not an ego play, I really do control the national politics, but the magnitude of power also brings about the same magnitude of the potential to fail. But I’m used to that, my years of training, being down millions, multiple millions have utterly destroyed whatever the fuck part of brain controls my ability to discern risk. People don’t know how leveraged I am on the stocks, how leveraged to the fucking tits I am, my entire multi-billion fortune rests on the slight percent nudges of the hour, the minute, the second. 

That’s what drives me, performance adapts to what you expect and prepare for. Fortunately for me and unfortunately for the public, The government is readily available to bail me out in the billions.

Finally, I pull into the parking lot. I anticipate what I might see when I enter the condo, excited for the possibilities and excited for whatever the singular possibility might be. Will I see my hot girlfriend splayed onto the armchair, with only a tight-knit sweater dress on? 

The smell of vanilla wafted in the air as I approached the condo. As I approached, I was about to input the code into the door but it just opened with the touch of my fingers. And I saw Ryujin standing there, in a tasteful pajama set with loafers waiting at the door.

“Did you really read books all day?” I asked.

“Sometimes these days are warranted.” And hugged me below my shoulders, it’s always a spectacle to feel how small a kpop idol truly is, not that I have experience with them, it’s just that Ryujin feels small. I held her waist as I slowly entered, as she slowly moved backwards.

“Did you eat?” She asked, stepping away so that I could take off my shoes. 

“No, I just wanted to be home early.”

“Aww, you must be tired,” Ryujin said softly, stepping back to give me space as I entered. She glanced at the table, where dinner was already laid out, a quiet gesture that spoke volumes about her care.

I looked at the meal, then back at her, a small nod of acknowledgment passing between us. “You didn’t have to wait,” I said, my voice steady, though the hint of gratitude was unmistakable.

She shrugged slightly, her hands finding their way into her pockets, a gesture of both nonchalance and shyness. “I wanted to. Besides, I wasn’t really hungry until you got here.”

I raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Convenient.”

Ryujin met my gaze briefly, then looked away, a subtle flush creeping up her neck. “Yeah, well… I figured you’d be starving after today.”

I walked over to the table, pulling out a chair for her. “Sit,” I said, more as a gentle command than a request. She hesitated for a split second before complying, her movements almost tentative as she took the seat.

I settled into the chair across from her, the space between us charged with an energy that was still new, still unfolding. There was a comfort in the silence that hung in the air, a kind of unspoken understanding that neither of us felt the need to fill with words.

“Did you make this?” I asked, gesturing to the food, though the answer was already clear.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice soft. “I hope it’s okay.”

I nodded, picking up my chopsticks. “It’s more than okay.”

We started eating, the clinking of chopsticks against bowls the only sound for a while. I could feel Ryujin’s eyes on me from time to time, as if she was trying to gauge something, but she didn’t say anything. I let the quiet stretch on, content to let the moment linger.

Eventually, she broke the silence, her voice low, almost as if she wasn’t sure whether to speak. “I’ve been thinking… about us.”

I didn’t look up right away, taking a moment to finish my bite before responding. “Yeah?”

She shifted in her seat, her fingers fidgeting slightly with her chopsticks. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

I placed my chopsticks down, meeting her gaze with a steadiness that I hoped would reassure her. “You’re not. We’re figuring it out.”

Her lips curved into a small, uncertain smile, and she nodded. “I guess I just… I want to be what you need.”

I leaned back in my chair, studying her for a moment before replying. “You already are. But this isn’t just about what I need.”

Ryujin’s eyes flickered with something—relief, maybe?—but she didn’t say anything, just nodded again, as if she was absorbing my words.

Our dinner ended in satisfaction, and plates were washed under our melodic humming. And the area of our participation changed, onto the couch.

The room was dim, the glow from the TV casting shifting patterns of light and shadow around us. "Twin Peaks" flickered on the screen, the eerie opening score filling the quiet. Ryujin leaned into me, her body fitting neatly against my side, one arm draped over my stomach.

I tightened my hold around her, my hand resting firmly on her waist. She sighed softly, a small, content sound, her eyes fixed on the screen but her body melting further into mine.

“You like this show?” she asked quietly, almost as if testing the waters.

“I do,” I replied, my thumb rubbing gentle circles on her hip. “It’s got that strange charm”

She chuckled under her breath, a sound that sent a warm hum through me. “Kind of like you, then.”

I smirked. “Maybe. But you don’t seem to mind.”

She shook her head, nestling closer, her hand moving slightly against my shirt. “No… I don’t.”

I could feel her pulse, a steady beat beneath my palm, her head resting on my shoulder, her breaths syncing with mine. She was so quiet, so small in these moments, her usual boldness softened by the closeness between us.

Without a word, I shifted, pulling her fully into my lap. She let out a surprised breath, looking up at me with wide eyes. “What are you doing?” she asked, though there was no real protest in her tone.

“Getting comfortable,” I replied simply, guiding her so her legs draped over mine. “Is that a problem?”

She shook her head, a slight blush creeping up her neck. “No… it’s fine.”

We settled again, her hands resting lightly on my chest, as if she wasn’t sure what to do with them. I covered them with mine, holding her in place. Her cheeks flushed deeper, and I could feel the way her heartbeat quickened just slightly under my touch.

We watched in silence for a while, my fingers tracing idle patterns on her back. Ryujin shifted now and then, as if finding new ways to fold herself into me, her body instinctively seeking more contact.

The sound of Agent Cooper’s voice drifted through the room, but I was more aware of her—the soft rise and fall of her breathing, the way her fingers occasionally twitched against my shirt, as if she wanted to say something but wasn’t quite sure how.

“Do you think they’ll solve the mystery?” she asked at last, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I think it’s less about the mystery,” I said, my tone low, “and more about how it pulls everyone together… or apart.”

Ryujin nodded slowly, her eyes still on mine, her thumb brushing over my hand. “Kind of like us,” she murmured, almost absently.

I chuckled softly, leaning down until our foreheads almost touched. “Are you saying I’m a mystery?”

She bit her lip, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Maybe… but one I don’t mind trying to solve.”

I smiled, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “Good. I like keeping you guessing.”

She laughed, the sound soft and genuine, and then snuggled deeper into my hold, her head resting just under my chin. Her fingers found mine, and she gave a light squeeze, her body relaxing completely against me.

And there, in the flickering light of the TV, we stayed close, without the need for any more words.

A dim warmth spread through my body, a quiet satisfaction as Ryujin nestled into me, her legs folded beneath her. Her soft breaths were steady, rhythmic, her chest rising and falling in a comforting cadence. The episode of "Twin Peaks" ended, but our embrace didn’t. The TV hummed faintly, the credits rolling into a quiet, glowing blue, and yet neither of us moved, content to linger in this stillness.

Her fingers traced over my hands, studying them in the dim light, her thumb brushing against the calluses. “How did your hands get so rough? Did you fight every day or something?” she asked, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

“After training, yeah,” I replied, a small smile forming as I remembered. “I used to be part of an underground fight ring. It was fucking crazy… I still don’t know why I joined. It was full of middle-aged losers, and we’d just beat each other up, badly, almost every day.”

Ryujin's laughter bubbled up, a sound both amused and surprised. “What the hell? Seriously? Was the owner some big 'Fight Club' fan or something?”

“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging. “But there was this weird nostalgic element to it… getting stitches almost on a daily basis, feeling like I was constantly on the edge.”

Her laughter faded into a more thoughtful expression, her brow furrowing slightly as she massaged my hands, now resting on her lap. She slowly turned on my lap, shifting until she was facing me, her gaze searching my face with a mix of amusement and concern. “Gosh. What would you do without me? Look at these scars, and how rough your hands are! How did your face not get nicked?”

I smirked. “Oh, it got nicked. Plenty of times, at first. But a teenager learns pretty quickly among a bunch of 40-year-olds. By the end, no one really wanted to fight me.”

Her eyes softened, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she continued to trace the lines of my scars. “Sounds like a mix of ego and insanity,” she teased, but there was an underlying tenderness in her tone.

I leaned back, letting her study me, feeling the weight of her gaze on my skin. “Maybe,” I admitted. “But it made me who I am, for better or worse.”

Ryujin shook her head, still smiling, and then leaned in, pressing her forehead to mine. “You're a little crazy, you know that?”

“Is that a compliment?” I asked, my voice low, teasing.

She laughed softly. “It’s an observation. But… yeah, I guess it is. You pretend like you don’t need anyone, but here you are, with me, letting me hold you like this.”

I felt a warmth spread through my chest, her words sinking in deeper than I’d expected. I tilted her chin up, meeting her eyes. “Maybe you just have a way of breaking through,” I said, brushing my thumb over her cheek.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she settled closer, her hands resting on my shoulders now, her body melting into mine as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Maybe… or maybe you just needed someone to see you,” she whispered, her voice soft but certain.

I didn’t reply right away, just let my fingers move to her hair, tangling in the soft strands as I held her close. I felt her relax, her body going pliant against me, and there was a peace in that moment, something that felt unspoken but deeply understood. 

A slow movement between each other occurred, and a slow kiss formed out of it all. A passionate, an unendingly lovely kiss, a kiss that could only be shared by two lovers. I reached deeper, my head moving forward deeper into the kiss, trying to get more out of Ryujin, her taste, her beauty. I slowly stood up, with her still on my body, I held her up with my arms around her waist while still sharing a passionate kiss. 

How could a girl be this lovely? Holy shit.

I quickly plant her on the leather couch, a black luxury couch too expensive for a single man, but a perfect frame for the most beautiful girl in the world. She laid on the couch, motioning for me to join her, in laying, in loving. The next seconds were a haze, the warmth of a kiss being shared, her soft bosom pressed up against me, The warmth shared by two bodies aggressively pressing each other to get more out of each other.

My left hand went from her waist to her breast, gripping firmly against the soft of her clothes, the soft of her breast. She mewled in my mouth, taking quick breaths trying to continue the kiss as long as possible, unbearably aroused by my body.

I quickly pulled away, she was irritated, I quickly took off my button-up, more like ripping it apart, buttons everywhere. That didn’t matter at all, we quickly continued our session, she softly rubbed her hands all over my back as I kissed into her. 

Then, clothes flew off each moment, and a kiss shared in each layer, and a mess on the floor. Her creamy-white skin caved at my touch, the slight ripple of her semi-abs visible as I greedily took more of her. Finally, her bra came off, the perfectly pink nipples were visible, and completely rigid. The kiss transitioned as my mouth traced over her body down to her breast.

I sucked lightly, fingering at her other nipple. Her loud moans and body ripples only inspired greater performance, I felt a slight tug when I felt her fingers around my hair and she seemed to be moaning louder.

I nibbled at her nipple, kissed the white skin around the nipple, which compressed at the slightest touch. It was almost heaven, a girl who gave me her virginity, a girl who is witty, smart, and loving. 

After enough teasing of her nipples, she began to be more reactive, perhaps signalling that it’s turned into pain rather than pleasure. So I stopped, caressing the pads of my fingers along her body, her curves, her identity, all the way down to her thighs where my thumbs hooked on her panties that were damp. 

“You must be excited.” I teased.

“Ah… please I’m so wet, you kept teasing my nipples you bastar- Ah!” I slipped a finger inside her, interrupting her, amusing myself in her arousal.

I took the finger out, it glistened even in the warm light.

“Open your mouth.” I demanded.

She complied, with her mouth open, I inserted the glistening finger inside her, “Tastes good?”.

“So Gooth-.” She replied with my finger still in her mouth. A slight vibration, a fiercely erotic sign, a sign that she was so stimulated that her body was vibrating as a coping mechanism after realizing other ways of coping with it were futile. 

I took out the finger out of her tender, warm mouth, with a trace of saliva still on my finger, I slowly tracked down her body, the shine of her saliva following suit, the rise of her breasts, the drop to her ribs, the softness of her belly no, abdomen, it would be an insult to call it a belly, it was the perfect midriff. The quiver getting more intense as the tip of my finger slowly approaching her pussy.

I pulled off my hands off her body quickly, and hastily set to pull off my belt; suddenly, Ryujin laid her hands on my belt, showing that she wanted to take it off, that she wanted to see my cock entirely of her own volition. Slowly, making sure that whenever her hands were not occupied with taking off my belt and undergarments, she grazed my abdomen with her fingers any chance that she got. She was kneeled on the couch, crouched over, I was kneeled up straight, and she took her time enjoying the rare opportunity to tease me.

She was entirely naked, and I got to see her back, her beautiful back, one that was crafted through sheer divination by the lords above, there was absolutely no other way to achieve that back, the hourglass shape of her waist and the curve of her hip bones, lord almighty.

I traced the lines of her back with my hands as she finally got down my underwear. Whilst I busied myself with her breasts, now that it was hanging, it was even softer, even more beautiful and absolute euphoria to handle.

A firm grasp disrupted my vivid imagination. “Are you gonna keep teasing my breasts, is it that lovely?” she said with a laugh, slightly firmer on the cloth that barely hid my erection. “Is underwear like this even practical? It looks like it’s a camp site!” Somehow she found some humor in this situation, most likely embarrassed about giving me fellatio. 

Of course, I know the cure. I grasped her hair tightly, the hair that has been diligently grown, perfect to grab tightly and insist on what actions you want. She obliged in the pull, her legs completely folded in obedience, and obliging in the slight pulls and pushes of my hand. 

“Too hard?” I asked.

“I don’t even know why you have to ask.” She replied, with a bright flush in her cheeks, knowing that she likes it and that I know it.

“You’re gonna suck my cock, and you’ll do it diligently; and you’ll get fucked into this couch.”

“Ye- Yes.. please Koji.” She submitted with speech.

I swiftly pulled out my erection, and I leaned into the railing of the couch, inviting Ryujin over. She moved closer, still kneeling, still crouched, and slowly approached my erection. She breathed deeply, getting closer to my dick, and started to stroke it with her hand. The soft coldness of her hands confirmed my suspicion, she was so nervous that all the heat went to her torso, “you don’t have to be so nervous, baby.” She smiled at the remark, and immediately took my dick in her mouth.

She learned so quickly, it was unbelievable, what a virtuoso. She sucked on my length, going halfway with an incredible suction. The pleasure was intense, a sensation of sucking was strong, and I would peak too quickly to enjoy her body. 

“My muse, aren’t you learning a little bit too fast?” I said with a chuckle, gritting my teeth against the pleasure.

She released, still very close to the tip, “it’s so delicious that I had no choice but to learn, and it seems it paid off.” Yes it has, but of course there’s an opposing force every force. Before she could continue sucking me off, I pushed her onto the couch. 

“Should I make you cum in one stroke?” I asked, fully intending to do.

“You wish.” Scoffing at my threat. “I was a virgin then-”

I quickly placed pressure just at the edge of the pubis bone, then the other hand traced the outer lips of her pink pussy. Her solid determination was nearly broken at that moment, a hand placed on her lower abdomen pressing into her was getting her off so well.

And it was a technique that only got more arousing the more it was used. She was a goddess personified and I was disgracing her by almost getting her to cum with light presses and pressure. The fingers that traced the outer lips of her pussy slowly converged on her clit hood, applying almost a graze over it, each graze getting a sizzling inhale from Ryujin. 

“Ah~ fuck, I’m gonna come! I’m gonna come!”

I immediately took off my hands, and I stared at her. “Wha- What are you doing? I was so close.” I didn’t reply, I swung my left hand against her hip bone, a firm slap, as close as you could get to her ass in missionary. 

She yelped, and I covered her mouth with a firm grip, “it would be a disgrace for you cum on my fingers, and even less so without me penetrating you at all.” I leaned into her with a hand still on her mouth, leaving enough room for her to breathe through her nose. I was still quite above her to let her see me entering her, she looked down, as I slowly pressed my member at the heat, prodding, then slowly entering. When I saw that she was not looking down and when she was trying to deal with the pleasure, I quickly took the hand off her mouth and pulled her head forward to make her look as I entered inside. Each inch pain-stakingly slow and purposeful, she stared with pleasure ablaze.

“Princess. I am the only one who understands you.”

That was it, that was the moment she lost it. I immediately entered to the hilt, then pulled out. She spasmed at the intensity, squirting all over the leather couch, screaming and moaning at the pleasure. “Oh my fucking god!” She placed a hand over her head to recover.

The latter minutes were spent with a more furious kind of love, an intense love.

A manner in which I fucked her, with love and embrace. I held her in missionary position, grasping the nape of her neck, sharing our mouths as I repeatedly and fully drew inside her fully. The motions bringing the deep moans of pleasure out in the form of vibrations in her body, and mewls of her mouth.

She loved giving up control in intercourse, it was something that brought her pleasure to no end. To know that she was not in control of her orgasm nor mine, that any second I could pull away and let her mewl in anticipation, and suffer right under the eclipse of her orgasm. However, she loved it more when we shared our arousal, in this position, she could kiss my shoulder, kiss my jaw, caress my back, and even massage my shoulders. Of course, she engaged in these sorts of affection, she couldn’t control it and I could never resist it. The deeper I went, the more her moan hummed against my jaw when she kissed it.

Sometimes I pulled off to maintain eye contact with her, noticing the twists in her eyebrows, the whiskered dimples of her cheeks as she was drawn to climax again. This time though, her legs locked me inside her, she knew that it would take multiple orgasms for her to get me to eclipse, she acknowledged it and was fully intent on it. Of course, the significant height and weight difference didn’t allow Ryujin to maintain much control at all. Instead of the leg lock, I swiftly kneeled up while my dick was still inside her, while she stared expectantly. 

I seized her legs, right above my shoulders, “Oh not again!” She definitely remembered the first time I did this. Then I lowered myself to kiss her, her legs were now placed next to her ears.

“I feel this is my obligation, to train your flexibility.” Still punishing her cunt with my deep strokes inside her

“Oh please-ah! Yo- You just want to fuck my brains out!” She was right.

 I still held her legs as the way they were, but I wanted a fuller picture, a picture where I saw Ryujin enjoying herself to the fullest. I observed the strokes, her cunt glossy with her arousal, I wanted her to enjoy it even more.

From then and there, I placed my hand on the place of her pubis bone, compressing the canal that anticipated my strokes, and a slight thumbing on her clit.

One, euphora

Two, amazing

Three, orgasm

She came again, this time she was allowed no movement, my hands acted as braces that held her down, and she vibrated in pleasure.

She tightened even further, her moans became more guttural as the added pleasures of my hands began to feel more like punishment.

I chuckled, she was such an angel. I released my hands, the hands thus landed on the breasts, the warm pliable breasts with very noticeable aroused nipples.

I had been pumping so quickly and hadn’t realized that I was getting close, I was enjoying her mewls and moans so much that I realized that I might cum this instant. Despite the fact that I finally bought condoms because I kept cumming inside her, I forgot to use it. 

Trying to resist pulling out of Ryujin’s pussy was impossible, it wasn’t ‘almost impossible’ it was plain and simply impossible. And Ryujin definitely felt the twitch my cock, “Please Please Cum inside me! Do it inside me~!”

Finally, I pumped into her one two three times and fell onto her as I filled her with my seed.

“I might actually get pregnant at this rate” she chuckled with her hands getting tangled in my hair

“I don’t even fucking care anymore” I breathed by her side, ear-to-ear.

“Would you like that? A little Koji running around?” She asked.

“I don’t know, what about you?” Genuinely curious about her opinion.

“I think it’s cute to see a little Koji running around, a little Koji that has a happier childhood.”

“I love you” I kissed her lips.

She murmured something against my lips, most likely “I love you” too.

The warmth of the embrace lingered as we finally moved from the couch. The night had drawn on, but the intimacy between us only grew stronger. Ryujin stood up, her hand slipping into mine, and without a word, she led me towards the bathroom.

The bathroom light flickered on, casting a soft glow across the tiles. The shower was already running, steam curling up and filling the small space with a comforting heat. Ryujin turned to me, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of affection and something deeper. She reached up, gently tugging at my hand.

Soon, the warmth of the steam wrapped around us both.

We stepped into the shower together, the hot water cascading over our bodies, washing away the day. Ryujin reached for the soap, her hands lathering it up before gently running it over my chest. Her touch was soft, methodical, as if she was memorizing every inch of me. I closed my eyes, leaning into the sensation, the warmth of her hands, the soothing pressure as she worked the soap across my skin.

I returned the favor, my hands moving slowly, carefully, over her shoulders, down her back, the water rinsing away the suds in gentle streams. She sighed, a sound of pure contentment, as I massaged the tension from her muscles, taking my time, savoring the closeness.

When she turned to face me, her eyes were soft, almost vulnerable. I cupped her face in my hands, letting the water pour over us, and she leaned into my touch, her own hands resting on my waist. For a moment, we just stood there, water pouring over us, our foreheads touching, our breaths mingling in the steam-filled air.

Finally, I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, and finally her lips—slow, lingering, full of the unspoken things between us. She kissed me back, her hands moving up to tangle in my wet hair, holding me close.

When the kiss broke, we both smiled, a small, shared moment of understanding. I reached for the shower’s knob, turning off the water, the sudden silence almost startling. Ryujin didn’t let go, though. Instead, she wrapped herself around me, resting her head on my chest as the last of the water dripped off us.

“I want to take a bath,” she murmured, her voice soft, almost shy.

I smiled, pressing another kiss to her damp hair. “Let’s do it.”

We stepped out of the shower, toweling off quickly before I started the bath, adjusting the temperature until it was just right. Ryujin watched me, her eyes following my every movement, a small smile playing on her lips. Once the tub was filled, she sank into it with a sigh, the hot water enveloping her.

I settled on a chair that directly faced ryujin still with a towel draped over my lap, watching as she leaned back, closing her eyes, her face relaxing completely. The room was filled with the soft sounds of water lapping against her skin, the scent of lavender from the bath salts mixing with the steam.

“Join me?” she asked, opening her eyes just a sliver, looking up at me with a hopeful expression.

“Don’t even try” I chuckled at the previous time she asked for me to join her in the bath.

With her nestled against the edge of the tub, I reached for the book I had left on the counter, opening it to where we had left off. It was an old copy of "Anna Karenina," the pages slightly yellowed, the spine well-worn from countless readings.

Ryujin sighed contentedly as I began to read aloud, my voice low, resonating in the quiet intimacy of the bathroom.

“‘All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow,’” I read, my fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on my lap. The words seemed to echo in the room, intertwining with the stillness around us. “‘In seeking happiness for others, we find it in ourselves.’”

Ryujin tilted her head back slightly, her eyes closed, her body fully relaxed against mine. “I love hearing you read,” she whispered, her voice almost drowned out by the water, but I caught it, and it warmed me from the inside out.

I continued reading, my voice steady, letting the words flow through the air, wrapping around us both. “‘But every one of these men, straightway from the first minute of their meeting, was seized by an unwonted feeling of respect, as though they had met with something sacred, and in consequence every word and gesture of hers seemed to them more important and significant than they had ever been before.’”

Ryujin’s fingers played idly with mine beneath the water, her thumb brushing against my knuckles as she listened. The words from the book mixed with the rhythm of our breathing, with the warmth of the water and the quiet that enveloped us.

As I read on, the story of Anna Karenina unfolding in the soft light, I could feel Ryujin’s heartbeat, slow and steady, matching mine. The romance of the scene in the book felt distant compared to the reality of her in my arms, this intimate moment we were sharing.

Eventually, I let the book rest on the edge of the tub, my voice trailing off as I pressed a kiss to her damp shoulder. “You know,” I murmured, my lips brushing against her skin, “this might be better than any book.”

She turned slightly in the water, looking up at me with a playful smile. “Only might be?”

I chuckled, leaning down to kiss her, slow and deep, letting the warmth of the bath and the softness of her lips consume me. “Definitely better,” I corrected softly against her mouth.

Ryujin smiled, a content, sleepy smile, and nuzzled back against my chest. We stayed like that for a while, the water gradually cooling around us, but neither of us was in a hurry to move. The book lay forgotten on the edge of the tub as we simply enjoyed the closeness, the feeling of being utterly connected in this quiet, private world we had created together.

P.S: I have the whole prequel ready but the writing quality is a lot worse than this but its 20k words of setup, comment below if you want it.

[unsolvedjarin]

Can we have more mentor!Seb x Ferrari driver!reader? Maybe she wins in Monza the same season as the last fic? 👀

note: sorry it took me so long to get to this request, life has been KILLING me lately. this one is pretty short but hopefully you enjoy!

FOCUS.

part one here but can be read without <3

pairing: (mentor! sebastian vettel x ferrari driver! reader) (mick schumacher x ferrari driver! reader AT THE END)

summary: monza was never an easy race, and that certainly wasnt changing anytime soon. but maybe some luck is on your side this year— and a supportive mentor.

content warning: none besides my verb tenses being all over the place

Max had gotten pole. So not good for you.

You lost P2 as well to Lewis by two-tenths of a second, but P3 was fine, P3 was good. Hopefully good enough for today. It was finally Sunday, and you couldn’t be more excited— it was finally Monza.

“Well the goal is to win,” you say, although it comes out muffled with food in your mouth. Sebastian had invited you to paddock brunch on race day, and you were not one to turn down free food.

Swallowing, you add, “I mean obviously the goal is to win. We’re in Monza, that’s every Ferrari driver's goal.”

The Aston Martin driver had been listening intently to your complaints about Ferrari’s performance recently, and from what he’s hearing, it’s not looking good. Not only was the car lacking in pace, the team itself had bad strategies left and right. While you had gotten a podium back in Spa, it was starting to look like it'd be the last podium for Ferrari for a while.

Charles had DNF’ed last race, and you ended up P9. Not a great result, but it still kept you third in the Construction Championship. This race, however, was too special to have a mediocre result.

It was the home of the Tifosi; the people, the cheers, the chants, it was all for Ferrari— all for you. You couldn’t lose in Monza.

“So you think you’ll win later then?” Sebastian asks, taking a bite of his own food.

“Well I don’t don’t think I’ll win, so there’s that.”

“What a strange type of confidence.”

“Thanks, I try.”

Sebastian laughs, a genuine one that makes you smile as well. You’d been spending more time with him since learning about his retirement at the end of the season, which says a lot when you were already always together. He didn’t mind though, he loved spending time with you above all the other people on the grid– well, except for Mick. He tagged along sometimes when he could. You liked having him around too.

“If it amounts to anything, I think you can win it.”

He always says that. ‘If it amounts to anything’ or ‘If it matters,’ as if everything he says wasn’t important to you when it was. “Thanks Seb, but save that optimism for yourself, you need it,” you tease.

You say it in a joking manner, but Seb knew there was a hint of seriousness to your words. Aston Martin hadn’t been performing well either, and if you considered Ferrari’s performance bad, then you could call theirs atrocious. You knew it wasn’t Seb’s fault, he had been trying to contribute to the efficiency of the car with his knowledge and he pushed it every race.

Nodding, he sighs, and you can sense the tiredness in his breath. 2 years of a slow car will do that to you. Before you could give him any comfort, however, a Ferrari employee calls out your name for you to get ready for the race.

“Good luck Schatzi, I believe in you,” Seb says, getting up from his seat. You get up and hug him tightly, smiling when he hugs you back just as tight.

“You too Sebby.”

“Do what I couldn’t,” you hear him whisper.

You don’t reply. You don’t tell him, ‘I’m sorry,’ because he already knows. He knows because you’ve told him it before many different times on many different races when he used to drive for Ferrari– but you’ll always remember Monza.

It was his dream, the most important thing he wanted out of joining Ferrari besides winning the championship with them. But he never got it. Every year he was there, something took the win out of his grasp. Engine failure, collision, slow pace, no grip, it didn’t matter what the reason was. He never got it.

You separate, both going to get ready. You’ll make him proud, you think to yourself.

The race was tight. Lewis was giving you a good fight, always just less than a second away, but conveniently farther whenever you were in a DRS zone which meant you couldn’t overtake him. Thankfully, he slipped up during a straight, and gave you enough slipstream and space to pass him.

Then it was just you and Max. He was 10 seconds away, and you were so sure it was over. But then he pitted a little too long, giving you enough time to take his position.

And then you were leading.

You were leading in a Ferrari in Monza.

Holy fucking shit.

Just one more lap, one more and you could see it– you could see the end.

“...Y/N L/N SEES THE CHECKERED FLAG, AND COMES TO WIN THE ITALIAN GRAND PRIX! FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2019, FERRARI WINS IN THEIR HOME RACE!”

You couldn’t believe it.

You won. You won in Monza. In a Ferrari.

You did it.

If the screams of the fans were loud in Spa, the cheers of the emotional Tifosi were deafening here. Exiting your car, still shellshocked, you’re immediately approached by Max, who gave you a quick hug in congratulations.

Slightly snapping out of your buzzed state, you run towards your crew who was on the other side of the barrier, practically jumping into their arms. They couldn’t believe it either. When you finally removed your helmet, the muffled sounds of everything else suddenly became clear, and somehow the already thundering roars of the crowd had gotten louder.

Despite all that commotion, all that chaos and celebration, there was only one man you were looking for. You heard he had DNF’ed, which meant he would be in his garage, but you didn’t care. You were going to look for him before you got on that damn podium.

While Max and Lewis went to the cooldown room, you got ready to sneak out and go to the Aston Martin garage, when a hand grabs yours and spins you around to face them. It takes you a second to realize what was happening, but when you did– “SEBASTIAN!”

He enveloped you in a hug, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. You could hear his proud laughs, and you started laughing as well. You had done it.

“I ca-”

“I-”

You both start at the same time, making you both laugh even harder. You gesture for him to start first, and he does. “I can’t believe it. You actually fucking did it,” he says, the joy evident in his cussing.

He walks with you back towards the Podium, an arm around your shoulder looking proud. When you get to the side stage you pause in protest, but he reads your mind before you can say anything. “Go, we’ll talk later.” He gives you a little nudge, and off to the platform you go.

You asked Charles once, and he told you that when you get up there on the platform, everything goes quiet. You would see the crowd, the fans clad in red, and you would feel the love, but you wouldn’t hear it– as if all their cheers mixed together into a large vast silence. One thing would come into focus, and when you see what you’ve focused on, it’ll all make sense. For him, it was a man wearing a shirt with the number 17 on it. In the large mobs, it was the one thing his eyes had focused on.

For you, however, it wasn’t in the crowd. It wasn’t in the endless support of the Tifosi, nor the trophy given to you. No, it was in the man you could see in your peripheral vision, standing on the side, clapping proudly and looking at you as if no one else was on the podium.

Sebastian. It was him. Your mentor, your father figure, your friend. You finally understood what Charles was always rambling about. That loving feeling— not one you feel with a romantic partner, but the one that buries itself deep into your soul and grows over time, unseen and unnoticed, but when you finally focus on it, everything makes sense.

The second the podium festivities ended, you ran into Sebastian’s arms and hugged him tightly, not minding the cameras all around you. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he hugged you back, not letting you go.

Tomorrow— not today while the chaos of the fans was still ongoing— the media will spew rumors about you and the older driver, but you don’t care. Not when you’re finally happy here; content.

With content tears flowing freely down your face— along with some champagne from earlier— you finally disconnected from the hug, looking at Sebastian with a grin.

He looked confused, “What’s happening? Are you alright? Is everything okay?”

Shaking your head with a laugh, you reply, “It’s fine, everythings okay. I just— I can’t believe I did it. And with you watching. I couldn’t be happier.”

Sebastian takes a moment to intake what you said. He had never felt this way before. Never felt so utterly proud of someone. You had done what he never could, had finally achieved the Ferrari dream he had always wanted for himself. He could see himself in you now, the sheer joy of a win with a team he always wanted to win with. He couldn’t be more happy for you too.

“Sebastian?” you ask, worried about his silence. Maybe what you said was too much, too forward. But then he smiles softly at you, and you can see the tears welling in his eyes.

“You have no idea how proud I am of you.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, “Oh thank god, I thought you were thinking of scowling in disgust or worse; not hearing what I said and making me repeat it.”

He laughs, a hearty one, and you laugh as well. The roar of the crowd was still loud, but amidst all the chaos, your eyes still only focused on one person.

“Dinner?” he asks softly.

“Yeah, let’s get dinner.”

a bit of bonus for my mick girls out there:

“Y/N!” you hear a voice shout from across the paddock. It catches your attention, and you turn your head to the Mercedes hospitality where the voice came from. Sebastian is beside you, an arm around your shoulder, accompanying you for a post-race dinner.

“Mick! What’s up?” you ask, disconnecting from Sebastian’s hold to walk towards him. He meets you in the middle, giving you a quick hug before smiling.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your win. We should celebrate!” he says, pausing for a moment as if thinking how to word his next sentence. “I was thinking— just a random thought really— we could…go out to dinner to celebrate? I mean just throwing ideas out there, you don’t have to.”

He’s looking everywhere but at you at this point, his eyes pointed down at his shoes and you can see his hands fiddling in his pockets. You notice Toto Wolff watching from the hospitality, but you pay no attention to him, instead keeping your eyes on the man in front of you.

“I’m sorry Mick I would love to, but I’m actually going out to dinner with Seba—”

“He can come,” Sebastian butts in. “He can join us, I have no problem with it.”

“Oh, then great!” you exclaim, nudging Mick softly. He looks up at you with a slight red dusting on his cheeks you don’t notice. Oblivious, you intertwine your arm with his, walking with Seb tailing the both of you.

You ramble on about the race to him and don’t notice when he turns his head around to face Sebastian quickly, who was giving Mick two thumbs up with a cheeky grin. The younger driver blushes softly, before going back to facing you and listening to you talk.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, however, the older driver was already secretly thinking of an excuse to get the two of you alone at dinner.

[simp4konig]

Extension of @itsagrimm ’s post and conversation which we had 😇✨✨💖

Some additional Nikto headcanons

Word Count: 653

Tag List: ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @rustic-guitar-notes ♡ @best-soup ☆ @lotionlamp ☆ @luci4theminorannoyance ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @nightlyvoids ♡ @skeletalgoats ♡ @aethelwyneleigh27 ☆ @arrozyfrijoles23 ♡ @dobaddo ♡ @the-second-sage ☆ @wil-xyz ☆ @revnatheshadow ☆ @feelya

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Nikto is extremely bitter, and spiteful. His childhood was stolen from him from the moment he became an officer. In addition to this, his torture left him scarred — physically and mentally — and he is conscious of a childhood which he could have had, yet is unconscious of what the childhood which he did have was like. He either does not remember, or the memories have been repressed; either way, he recognises what he has lost, for he is met with the naively mischievous glint in the eyes of the boyish rookies that arrive with the optimism of a young, hopeful lad, and he is cursing under his breath in Russian, resenting the happiness and zest which they give off, contrasting the spite and bitterness which festers within him.

Perhaps he displays said “boyish” behaviour in order to reclaim some of the innocence which he had when he was a young boy; again, either it is intentional, and he behaves in such a way as to I personally believe that he doesn't even realise that he behaves in such a way: in Nikto's eyes, he has prematurely matured and aged, making him see through the lens of a damaged man; yet, that same lens may be making him blind to the boyish behaviour which he unintentionally displays, evident in the scraps of content that we are fed of him 😓

Maybe Nikto has two boys inside of him which define him, both the same age, yet different: one is the child which was robbed of its innocence and forced to endure atrocities unimaginable; the other is the child, innocent, which has been locked away, wondering why it cannot be let out. Neither is aware of the other, and it's all the more tragic.

Exploring this point further, Nikto being 28–29 is surprising, as he acts far older than his age. It's as if the experiences which he has experienced have aged him mentally, and he genuinely feels the pain of it all straining his psyche. It's tragic that someone so young was subjected to such torture so soon, and be forced to wear a mask 😟…

Given how the wiki states that “he has an uncanny ability… to hide his true identity”, it is ironic. What if from his perspective he has hidden his identity so well that there is none to be found anymore? What if he perceives himself as an actual nobody after having been done so immorally wrong? What if as a result of his torture and lasting trauma he has had his personality and identity stolen, just like his childhood, and is therefore unable to rediscover it?

…Maybe the mask is his subconscious way of protecting the remains of the innocent child, wanting to preserve the past purity of his child self (before being inevitably forced to mature as a result of his environment, and consequently his other experiences?*)

*Note, I can imagine that Nikto's childhood was robbed at some point as an adolescent, but he was still innocent and did not grasp what it was. After his torture, the truth behind his childhood may have come to light, and shed darkness on what was otherwise something positive. Furthermore, he could be clinging on to what little remains of that innocent child.

In addition to own personal headcanon (where he is blunt), he probably spouts the darkest jokes and has a morbid sense of humour. I don't necessarily believe that he would use humour to cope with his circumstances, as in all honesty, he does not strike me as man who indulges in idle banter like “haha i got tortured guys 😎,, sooo anyways 0/10 would not recommend 😰😰 — my other voices wouldnt either, trust 💪🙏” 💀,,

,,but, I certainly believe that due to how desensitised he has become to morbid matters, he has reached a point in his life where the horror amuses him, and doesn't affect him.

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A/N Finished writing this yesterday at 23:11 instead of actually fucking SLEEPING 🥱😫😫,, my priorities are notbthe ones that i should be prioritising lmfao 💀

Surprisingly posted something else 😱😱❓⁉️⁉️❗ this is VERY uncharacteristic of me!!??? I was supposed to post one post and disappear for ~3 months?? 🤔🤔🫡🤨🧐🧐🤨

Been reading Metro 2033 rn and its [Redacted, as the rant was two paragraphs] 😍😍

Not much else to say lmao — been existing i suppose 🤯

[valkyyriia]

Hiii! It is I — Veli! no not nagi /lh

Can I request for a fic with Ellis where he happens to be lovesick? He and reader had to be separated for a period of time due to work, travel etc. And maybe they reunite at the end, but upto you

Take care and stay hydrated <33

Growth

Words: 1107 CW: None | SFW Tags: Separation, Mutual Pining, Jude being Jude Prompt: Ellis + Lovesick Pairing: Ellis / Reader

Note: Hi Veli! No, Nagi - no, Veli - hahaha! Thank you for the request, I love Ellis. 💜 This one is sweet! ... And got away from me a bit. Whoops. I guess I'm long-winded tonight, hahaha. I hope you like it!

"Be safe," you told him, your nose buried in Ellis' purple and black jacket. Ellis held you close, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"I will be," he smiled. "I wouldn't miss your happiest day for anything."

"Yeah, yeah," Jude cut in irritably. "We get it. Yer gonna cry the whole time yer separated. Let's get a move on, Ellis. We ain't got all day."

Ellis squeezed you tighter for a moment, a murmured 'sorry' whispered into your hair, before he let go and followed Jude out the front door.

As you watched the door to Crown Castle shut behind them, your heart constricted painfully in your chest. You hated being left behind on missions like these.

Crown had received intel that there was a branch of human traffickers taking up residence in Ipswich. They were using the Gulf of Orwell to ship their captives all over Europe.

Victor had claimed the mission was too dangerous for you, that you would be a target if you had accompanied them. Even if you were just there to act as Fairytale Keeper, you'd be singled out the moment you were spotted near Jude.

You knew the more likely truth was that you would be a liability to Jude, Ellis, and Roger if you were to accompany them. If things went south, you'd be left unable to protect yourself adequately, and the others would be scrambling to defend you, putting themselves in danger.

You absolutely hated feeling like a liability to Crown.

It was understandable that you didn't know your way around weapons. Compared to everyone else in the organization, you had had an easy upbringing. Jude never stopped mentioning it, in fact.

You were the Fairytale Keeper. Your job was mostly to assist when needed and to record the evil deeds of the Cursed.

Your job was generally not to infiltrate drug dens and human trafficking organizations.

You knew that, and still.. it bothered you.

You hated the idea that if Ellis - or any of the others - were to get themselves into a tight situation, you would be more of a hinderance than a help to them.

And that was how you found yourself in Victor's office, an hour after the trio had left on their mission.

"Ah, if it isn't our lovely little robin," Victor greeted cheerfully. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I want to learn how to protect myself." You were candid with him. "I don't want to b a liability anymore."

Victor's eyes widened and he looked at you in mild surprise. Of all the things you could have wanted from him, that was not what he anticipated.

"Of course, you're welcome to anything in my personal armory as a member of Crown, my dear robin," Victor said, "And I would be more than happy to help you in any way you desire. If you're certain, I'll set out some time to teach you."

The next morning found you in the castle courtyard, Victor walking you through the use of various weapons in his repository. A few of the others came to observe, some offering pointers, others simply watching.

Truth be told, the other members of Crown didn't mind protecting you when needed. All of them, even Jude (though he would deny it), appreciated the optimism and sunshine you brought them on a daily basis. None of them held it against you.

Regardless of your decision to stay with them, they wanted to leave you with the ability to return to your normal life if that's what you chose to do.

They were evil, certainly - but far from heartless. They all cared for you in their own way.

Every day you practiced with Victor, you found your mind wandering to Ellis and the mission. Was he okay? How was the mission going? When would he be coming home?

You missed him.

You were looking forward to seeing him again, safe and unharmed.

Unbeknownst to you, Ellis was having similar thoughts.

Ellis hated being separated from you, too.

He had long ago learned to squash down his desires. They were unnecessary and only served to get in the way of his goals and the happiness of all around him.

And yet he found himself wishing more and more for your presence near him.

Ellis was quiet for the majority of the train ride.

"Yer gloomier than usual, kid," Jude huffed, lighting a cigarette. "Ya left the bird for what, an hour, and it's all doom and gloom?"

"Sorry," Ellis said. "I was just thinking."

"Well, stop it," Jude snarked, ignoring the look Roger was giving him. "Yer gonna break something."

Ellis smiled noncommittally, looking out at the landscape whizzing past them.

Part of him wished you could have joined them. It was unusual for him and Jude to take a mission without you nowadays. Victor, however, had said this one was too dangerous for you.

Ellis agreed, of course. You had had the barest of minimums when it came to weapons training. Your happiness was his top priority, sure; but your safety was equally important. He couldn't have you dying before you had your happiest moment.

Ellis also knew that you seeing what was going on in this place would make you sad. He somehow wanted to see that even less than he wanted to see you get hurt.

The fact that this was in your best interest didn't ease the ache in his chest any less. He missed you already.

This was going to be a long few days.

The mission went by quickly, all things considered.

Thanks to Roger's exemplary hearing and Jude and Ellis' quick thinking, they were able to infiltrate the den and capture the ringleaders within a few days. The remaining members of the organization had been scattered and left leaderless. Sure, another leader would pop up eventually - but it was doubtful it would be at this same location, and it would take awhile to recoup their losses as well.

For now, they've done all they could.

In contrast to their train ride to Ipswich, Ellis was smiling on the return trip. He would be seeing you soon, and that thought was enough to make him happy.

Ellis found he considered his own happiness a lot more now that he was with you. He found it didn't bother him too much, though; you had said on many occasions that his happiness brought you happiness. If it made you happy, he'd do anything.

Jude took one look at him and scowled, turning back to his book.

Ellis didn't mind. He was just looking forward to your sweet reunion.

Note: I've been sitting on it for awhile, and debated on writing their reunion, but I think I prefer the open-ended ambiguity at the end. I hope this is alright with you. 😊

Taglist: @natimiles @queengiuliettafirstlady @candiedcoffeedrops @goddesswitchmother Banners/Dividers by @natimiles

Let me know if you want to be added!

[the-literal-kj]

SHOW THE WAY

Chapters 4 & 5

Written for the 2024 Good Omens Theatre Reverse Bang, with concept & stunning art by the incomparable @illustrious-slimeman!

~

Good Omens fanfiction. 9k/25k words. Currently Rated M. Read it on A03.

SUMMARY: There was a point in Crowley’s life when he wouldn’t have been caught dead aboard the Metro-North Railroad commuter train bound for the hell that was Connecticut. And yet, here he was. Far enough from New York City so his reputation doesn't precede him and at his latest gig as a lighting tech, he meets stuffy, rules-following, interim-director Aziraphale.

But is there room enough in Greenwich for two drama queens?

CW: Pranks, practical jokes, quite extraordinary amounts of cussing! More tags to come, marked in each chapter.

Thank you to my betas @hakunahistata, @gaiaseyes451, @angie-words, @ines2925, @playdohangel & @secretlywingedphantom and to the @goodomensafterdark and @whickberstreetwriters communities for all their support!!

Excerpt:

He didn’t travel; didn’t go to the city to see shows, didn’t get up to Hartford or Boston for their museums, and certainly didn’t get to visit England anymore.  Reading had long ago replaced all that empty space in his heart and mind. Aziraphale made the best of what he had right here; that’s how he had come to have such a strict routine. It was optimized. It was efficient. But he was a bit superstitious, a bit of a believer. Whenever life threw something unexpected his way, Aziraphale understood it to be a sign. And so… Hadestown.

Read the rest on A03!

💚 kj

[weirdworldofwinnie]

Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part Six: Lover's Games

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only

Summary: You feel a need to follow up with Ernest Lawrence, much to Robert's dismay, and also uncover buried information that makes you turn rather rebellious.

Word Count: ~7,592

Warnings: Martial angst, infidelity, age gap, unwanted advances, slight physical violence, period stereotypical gender roles, clothed sex, some orgasm denial and sexual humiliation

Usual disclaimers apply, obviously NOT based on complete real life historical accuracy. It is essentially very much a dramatization and AU fantasy/fiction with Cillian as Oppenheimer, Josh Hartnett as Ernest Lawrence, Jack Quaid as Richard Feynman, etc. from the film only while other characters are my own entirely made up ones!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Tag List: @forgottenpeakywriter, @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman, @uniquetacofun, @noirrose21-blog, @gridmouse86, @lacontroller1991, @kishie8, @anime-lover-forever-1127

If you'd like to be added to the list, let me know please.

June 1943

You waited a couple of weeks after the party to move past the point of just taking actual action only in consideration in the sense of springing a scheme by meeting up with Lawrence, keeping Robert under the radar all the while and he himself was certainly distant, (distracted by work of course) but also deliberately choosing to give you space. It was fine, but it made you uneasy of how much he was extracting his emotions and you were starting to feel as if you were on a carpet of thin eggshells every moment you and him were alone together, which was usually only at night sleeping in the same bed.

Weekday dinners were a polite affair as well and you mostly ate for yourself, him eating a portion of his plate before he went to shut himself in his designated office room and came to bed hours into the wee morning. He was gone longer now during the day and one early evening, you found yourself cleaning the house alone with no company or pressing responsibilities to attend to, and you went into his office, rearranging his paperwork and dusting the bookshelves when you decided to take a peek into his desk, knowing he kept many personal writings there. Perhaps a poem or musing that could give an indication of what was happening inside his brain and why you were hitting a cold patch in the marriage.

After sifting through many documents, discarded calculations, and correspondence letters, you finally found his dearest belongings buried in the bottom drawer. You knew several of these, for they were cards - birthday, anniversary, well-wishers from the wedding - and some of your own (love poems, really) that you had exchanged with him and even simple notes of wanting to meet for dinner, a party, vacation at his Perro Caliente ranch, anything that merited invitation. You grew teary at a few, oddly nostalgic even though it was only a couple of years ago. But this project had somehow changed everything out of alignment.

A thin stack of folded papers wedged in-between a Valentine's Day card from you last year and inside an envelope that had a wax heart the color of dried blood stamped on it caught your attention and you carefully peeled the corners back to extract the papers, which looked to be three separate pieces creased into halves. You took the one on top and unfolded it to reveal a letter. It had no formal or informal greeting and you blinked, reading the words in your husband's scrawling cursive handwriting. The first few lines seemed more like a diary entry than anything else until you read further...

Well, I am wearier lately than anyone could possibly guess because I have grown adept at adopting a mask of confidence and optimism. But it is a foolish man's desire to remain unchanged and hopeful in his situations that require more than words to express... I know you understand the moody tides well, my love, and I often wonder if you are feeling the bluing void edging on again as you often do, verging on the whole of complete consumption. Though it would be more appropriate to call it black as death itself; blue has been wrongly shamed in this case, although you could drown in my eyes.

Safe to say, I very much miss your presence and touch, the way you find comfort in me as if we are beyond mortal man and woman. Naturally, there are other parts of me that yearn for you as well, but I'm sure you could pinpoint exactly what. It wouldn't be proper to state it here, although I will never be sending this to you Jean. I sincerely hope you never read this because if you do, that means the war is ongoing and I have not evolved past this spout of melancholy. It is hard to determine the future when oneself is so pegged on the past and present... I feel as though I am stuck between the slides. How do I let myself be with you and yet here all at once? You feel light years away from me, though it is only a mere thousand miles, isn't it? I feel closer to the dying stars than compared to my active obligations here on Earth.

"Don't be an idiot, Robert, and alienate the few people who most understand you because one day you might need them." I can hear you say it now and I'm afraid I did exactly that to you but for reasons more monumental than myself. I thank you for being understanding over the phone, but I must remain in this slide while you are busy in your own microcosm of the world and it is easier to miss you, but I should place a bet against myself to see exactly how long this separation lasts. If you'll have me, I look forward to loving you in two or three year's time. I hope by then I do not fall out of the concept of love entirely and with an expiration date instead because that would be a tremendous dissatisfaction if you found another bull who could never match my (nor your) intellect. He would never deserve such a naughty angel as yourself and I myself won't let you linger past my mind too much longer, I promise.

Forever yours (or not, though I hope the prior),

Robert

He had added a postscript, written in original Sanskrit from The Bhagavad Gita and you squinted, seeing familiarity. You jumped up and went to the bookshelves, seeking out his copy and thumbing through the pages, finding the scripture that matched his handwriting and you recognized the passage as he had shown and translated it to you once.

And now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.

Why the fuck would he add that in as a PS in a pining love letter to his ex-girlfriend?

You put the book back and went to sit down on the floor beside his desk with the letter and other ones, which you dreaded opening in case they were more in the tone of lovesickness about Jean. You felt stunned and yet at the same time, unsurprised as if this was to be expected and maybe it was. It further proved that Robert hadn't completely emotionally filed Jean away as you'd thought and was planning on loving her again someday... Or he had just been really, really drunk when he composed this, but you highly doubted it.

Hands shaking, you set that letter aside gingerly as if it contained a deadly chemical and picked up a second folded piece of paper. When you opened it, you audibly gasped.

My Kitty,

I do hope you are well and pursuing a better life for yourself in the useful field of biology. Forgive me, I must be ridden with a fever, but wouldn't it be fortuitous if we perchance crossed paths in San Francisco one summer day? My flamboyant impossible imagination has flooded me again, so I'll indulge here: I'd see you out shopping and hopefully you would be with only female company (I take it your husband would be working, unless you have divorced) and we could strike up a conversation that led us to my Cadillac parked in the shadows of the shade, and I'd let you take refuge from the heat as my passenger and then I'd take your beautiful hand...

He had deeply scratched out the rest, but you could definitely make out a few lines of erotic poetry. In reaction, you bit your bottom lip so hard you nearly drew blood, and then reached for the last one, which was not a letter in the traditional sense, but more of a hastily scribbled note on an index card.

I need to see you soon. From one 'R' to another, you always have me at my truest regards.

You angrily swore aloud and started crumple this note, but paused. If you confronted him about it, this could blow up for both of you and you couldn't have that right now in the midst of life here for the project. No one was or could get divorced, that was not an option. No, you had to keep this secret and try to get back at him more stealthily. Robert clearly loved other women too much, that was it, and this was tangible of that. Enough was enough and it spurred on you to see the fellow you'd been avoiding since the party.

The next day, you went to Technical Area 1 and walked towards one of lab buildings, immediately noticed by the soldiers on guard and they came over, shaking their heads at you and your security clearance button, lower than permitted in such a site. You'd had to sweet talk your way just past the fencing to get to this point, but these particular hardened men didn't look swayable.

"I need to speak with my husband, it's urgent. Please," you begged dramatically, wringing your hands, and the men glanced at one another.

"He's preoccupied with his colleagues now, but we'll be sure to let him know about whatever it is, Mrs. Oppenheimer."

You pursed your lips, realizing they weren't going to let you just waltz into the building without an extremely good excuse, which you couldn't say.

"Fine. Good day, sirs." You walked far away from them and they went back to their business as you glanced around inconspicuously for an alternative entrance, going to another side. You found an unoccupied back door and hurried towards it, heart picking up pace.

"What are you doing?" a male voice called shrewdly from nearby behind.

"Shit," you muttered, whipping around to see a very suspicious Officer Nichols standing several feet away. Thankfully though, he was solitary.

"I'll have to report this, you know," he warned as you backed towards the shut door, forcing a big smile.

"Or what? You'll shoot me for finding my own husband?"

"Depends on the context. Dr. Oppenheimer is a very busy man and I'm sure he has much better to do with his limited time than to entertain his diligent token housewife."

You flushed angrily, feeling for the doorknob and of course it was locked.

"I swear to God I'm not doing anything else but speaking to him. I hardly know squat about quantum mechanics and the nature of his work," you lied, trying to appear absolutely innocent.

"Then what is so important you need to interrupt proceedings?" Officer Nichols asked sharply, coming closer.

"It's a highly urgent personal matter."

"I see." He paused, darting his eyes up and down the length of your body for a second before he spoke curiously.

"You haven't physically left The Hill since your arrival, is that correct?"

"Yes...?" you replied, unsure of where he was going with this.

Nichols stared at you for a moment through his glasses glinting in the midday sun and you looked back, locked in a strange thirty second unnerving silence of equilibrium. Finally he moved, stepping forward and nodding.

"I'll personally make sure that you never do."

"But no, I... I was planning on going shopping for supplies with some of the ladies this weekend in Santa Fe?"

He was silent and you were surprised when he took out a ringlet of keys, going to unlock the door.

"We all must make sacrifices, Mrs. Oppenheimer, and I'm sure your husband would agree. This is your reward for the loss of such a privilege, so go now before I change my mind and report you to General Groves."

You quickly darted inside without a backward glance, heart thudding in aftermath of the interaction. Did he really mean that? Would he get in trouble if someone found out? Or more importantly, would you get in a tight spot for sneaking around?

You strode through the maze of hallways past lab rooms, offices, and the like until you heard dull voices up ahead and saw Robert's back, face to the chalkboard, through a half-cracked door. The scientists turned to stare when they heard your heels come to a halt in the doorway, looking away from their paperwork and the blackboard. The awkward silence was deafening; a pin could drop at any moment and a man coughed, just to relieve the stagnant air. The lone female physicist of the group, Dr. Lilli Hornig, gave you a curious look with a quick polite smile as she scribbled something on a piece of paper. Robert froze with a cigarette in one hand and a piece of whittled chalk in the other, his blues boring into your face out of sheer shock.

"Y/N, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

"No. I merely need to borrow that man right there for a moment of time. It's a personal matter," you announced crisply, pointing straight at Ernest Lawrence, whose expression morphed from surprise and to utter bemusement.

"Excuse me, then," he muttered and stood up, shuffling papers self consciously before making his way to you, moving down the hallway. You randomly led him to an empty storage room and opened the door, lightly pushing him inside.

"What are you doing?" he asked empathically as you faced him in the middle of the room, steadying yourself as you looked up at him, unaccustomed to being so close to a man considerably taller and bulkier than Robert's physicalie.

"Remember a couple weeks ago in May at last month's party?" you asked briskly and his brow furrowed in realization.

"Admittedly, not as much as I should. Oppie jokingly mentioned the next day afterwards about needing to restrict the amount liquor we're consuming at the house when you're hosting because we're not frat boys," he replied with an honest shrug.

"Do you recall that kiss you gave me out of the blue?"

His face flexed, eyebrows shooting up as his mouth twitched in guilty humor and you narrowed your eyes.

"Yes, perhaps a bit of it. In my defense though, I wasn't quite all there and there was talk going around, silly talk. I was dared into doing it, actually."

Now your own eyebrows mimicked his at this confession and you stepped closer, toe-to-toe with his shoes.

"Who dared you?"

"Promise to keep it to yourself?"

"Sure."

"Richard was the instigator and then the rest of the guys coaxed him on. Absolute ridiculousness we never would have done otherwise, I swear to you it's the high altitude of this place having an effect on our immature raucous behavior combined with alcohol."

"Feynman? The rascal, I could've guessed," you rolled your eyes disapprovingly and he sighed, shifting slightly on his feet.

"I really do apologize for the regrettable behavior, I sincerely promise it won't happen again," he told you seriously and you cocked your head slightly, giving him a once-over.

"Do you find me attractive?"

Lawrence immediately grew reserved and reluctant, making a grimace.

"Oh, I... I, oh no, I don't think it would be permissible to answer that."

"Go ahead. I dare you."

He swallowed nervously and came close with intimidation, making you stagger back all the way to the wall behind you, where he placed a hand up on it by your head, leaning in intimately and his warm breath tickled your cheeks.

"Yes, I suppose. But I'm happily married and certainly not looking for trouble or to wreck your own marriage. You must think I'm a very lousy friend," he admitted quietly.

"I think you underestimate me, Doctor," you whispered, nearly a purr, as you moved close and brushed his cheek with your fingers. He tried to speak, but you shushed him and gently removed his glasses, letting them dangle in your grip as you tilted into him, pressing your other hand firmly to his broad chest, squeezing the fabric of his vest.

Footsteps suddenly sounded from the hall outside, so you made it fast, giving Ernest a fast peck on the lips, just in time as then the door briskly yanked open and Robert poked his head in dubiously. You leaned back, still holding the glasses and Lawrence fumbled for them, accidentally interlocking fingers as your husband stared in confused disbelief.

"Y/N? What is the meaning of all this? We have work to do, why are you taking up his time?"

"Oppie, it's fine, we were just..." Ernest paused, readjusting rims of the glasses back on his face and he turned to you, a bit breathless.

"What were we talking about exactly?"

"All your great achievements, including the Nobel Prize, in contributing to the advancement of science, most notably your famous cyclotron and I was inquiring about the exact mechanics of how such a thing works. Something along the lines of high energy particles and acceleration...?"

"Right, because you were going to write to your father, who is curious about it," he caught on, proliferating this cock-and-bull conversation.

"And why do you need to interrupt our work about that? Aren't you supposed to elsewhere?" Robert asked, not hiding annoyance in plain sight. You could feel Ernest staring, gaze locked on you and your stomach butterflied, but you gave a brave face.

"You mean my womanly duties at home?" you snapped back.

"Yes, or however you may call it. Now, we need our physicist back if you'll pardon me." He beckoned Lawrence urgently and the man reluctantly pulled himself away from you, clearly ashamed and flustered. Once he was out of the room, Robert stepped inside and shut the door closed with snap. His face was taunt and irritated, fingers habitually fiddling for the ghost of a cigarette.

"What are you playing at here?" he demanded, already hurt without any explanation.

"Just a follow up to our last meeting," you said causally enough to anger him. He crossed to meet you in two strides, catching your wrist and lifting up your arm, interlacing his fingers very tightly with yours as he spoke lowly, intensively.

"What is the matter, am I not giving you enough? Do I not provide enough for you? You feel an urge to court my best man and colleague all of a sudden because you are bored of your humdrum domesticity? Is that what you love about Los Alamos, the fine selection of like-minded substitutes once you tire of me? Am I not enough?" His voice raised before he caught himself, releasing a shaky breath. He was genuinely upset and you felt rotten, but only for a second. It's not like he was clean in this either.

"Don't be ridiculous. I swear, you always assume the worst of me," you scoffed in response.

"Well, I certainly know a cheat when I see one," he said bitterly, twisting his fingers out of yours and dropping his arm.

"Yes, you would know indeed. But Jesus, Robert, he's only a friend, your friend I might add, and it was only a bit of fun, nothing serious. You said it yourself, it's good for him to loosen up. What else are parties for?"

"Right. Oh, yes, I'm sure that's exactly it," he replied sarcastically.

"He started it, you know, after Richard dared him to kiss me apparently at the party."

"Then I'll be speaking to both of them. But you need to stop it, quit acting so childish and inappropriate over this. You're smarter than this shtick and there is too much at stake to be partaking in silly juvenile romantic games."

"You do realize I'm at least fifteen years younger than you, right? You can't expect me to be, well, whatever it is called to be at your age. Old, is it?" you mocked and normally that would've sounded very rude in any other situation, but he knew your sharp side all too well to take it too seriously, especially when delivered with a teasing smile.

"You couldn't think of a worse slander than 'old'?" he scoffed, unimpressed, and you snorted, tapping the knot of his tie affectionately.

"The point is, I am indeed younger than you."

"So? I have no issue with that and you have proved yourself very capable of co-existence so far, I think you are quite mature for your age actually, at least until now... But I don't think biological age matters in love."

"I was just over eighteen when you began courting me and you used to flirt with your few female physics students that were no older," you reminded him and he diverted his gaze, tapping his foot anxiously and he distractedly flicked out a cigarette from his pocket pack, lighting it in a second and puffing in response. You stepped back from the plume of smoke, glancing towards the window and crossing your arms. He exhaled loudly and jerked his hand to point the cigarette at you and then spoke with ultimatum.

"I don't want to see you enter this laboratory with the intention of unnecessary interruption ever again. I will tell the officers outside to stop and restrain you if you do. Hell, I'll take these matters to the General if I have to, you hear me on that?"

"I certainly do as a matter of fact and I also know for a fact that you'd be wasting his time. Petty marriage squabbles isn't a high priority or forte for a high-ranking military man like him. But as for you, well, now you know what it feels like to be jeopardized over another human being," you countered.

"My ties are very different and I would never think to do it so publicly! I am discreet about such internal, highly private business," he exclaimed, getting frustrated with this discussion and this made you laugh humorlessly.

"Bullshit and you know that. I saw you a week before our wedding walking hand in hand with Jean down Shasta Road and what about that time afterwards when our friends saw you dancing with-"

He quickly talked louder, running over your words heatedly.

"No, no, no. You are just feeding into this ridiculousness and fabricating a relationship that isn't there!"

"Maybe so, but I thought it would be a good lesson, or test, for you and if this is any indicator, you've been bothered. I take heart in that you must love me so that it has unnerved you to see me with another man."

"There was never any doubt that I love you. Christ, if that's what this is all about..." He sighed, rubbing his creased forehead briefly before walking backwards to the door, opening it up and you could hear the dull chatter of voices from the other room.

"Well?" you asked when he didn't do anything, just standing with hands on his hips.

"I want you to do whatever it is that pleasures you, just as long as it doesn't happen to be luring my top physicist and close friend in a back room during the middle of a workday. Have some standard decency for God's sake," he spat, the words stinging, and you crystalized, uncrossing your arms and shaking your head at the hypocrisy.

"I never noticed it until we came here, but Ruth sure has your attention, doesn't she?"

"Pardon?" He blinked.

"You heard me."

"Ruthie has nothing to do with this and how dare you drag her name through your muddled mood today."

"Ruthie?" You rolled your eyes at clear affection underlying his tone.

"Listen to yourself Robert, you have feelings for her, you've always been close."

"She's a very dear friend, one of the few people I can truly confide in and share my emotions with, nothing more," he insisted.

"Am I part of that select number of confidants?"

"Of, of course. Has our entire marriage been for naught? I cannot believe your attitude over this, it's deplorable."

"It must be very nice to be you, Robert. No one here in Los Alamos casts open judgement upon you," you commented bitterly and he cringed, closing his eyes for a brief moment before staring back at you.

"Not yet, anyway," he answered with a tone of cryptic ominousness and you only frowned, shoving past him to exit the building.

A full twenty four hours passed without further incident until you haphazardly ran into Feynman on the street, just the man you were looking for.

"Richard?"

"Yeah?" He stopped and gave you a familiar cocky smile which dropped at the narrowed eyes and serious expression you were giving him.

"Oh, is this about the party? I didn't think he'd even do it, I apologize for our frivolousness that night. Clearly very unacceptable." He cleared his throat awkwardly and you leaned close, speaking in a low murmur.

"Do me a favor?"

"Uh, sure...?"

"I have an assignment for you: Find me a single man - preferably scientist - in this town, anyone remotely attractive will do, but no close friends or direct colleagues of Robert's, it has to be at least second or third tier from his inner circle and single - I'm not crossing into some other woman's territory - and arrange me a date with him in secret. Think of it as an experimental equation: One attempted devoted wife plus one all-but-labeled womanizer husband plus unsuspecting stag. It's time to give someone a taste of his own sweet and sour medicine."

"Oh, you feel like causing a scandal, do you? It won't take a mathematician to see what it'll will add up to." He chuckled in disbelief but then dropped his voice, casting wary glances around at passing residents, or civilians, as everyone who was non-military were officially called.

"Are you quite sure about this?"

"If I let my conscience speak, then no. But if I let every other fiber of my being, then yes. Will you do it?"

"I... I can't, no, this is beneath us," he protested, scratching the back of his neck in discomfort.

"It's one event at a casual party, it's quite another outside... Well, you know. Real tampering with people's lives has consequences and I'm not sure I'm the man for this job, I think if maybe, it-"

"I'll pay you," you interrupted quickly and he quirked an eyebrow and leaned closer.

"How much?" he whispered curiously.

"Twenty?"

"Make it 100 and you've got yourself a deal. I'll do it and you can pay me later at your convenience. Now excuse me, but I have some business elsewhere."

He hurried off and there was no further word until one early morning you came into the kitchen as Robert was dressing his toast and brewing coffee, and you were surprised to see a bouquet of long stemmed red roses on the table. Naturally, you looked to him as his habit of flower gifting was infamous, but he was staring just as confounded as you were. He seemed positively rattled, in fact.

"Did you...?" he asked and you echoed that same question.

"Did you?"

"No, I haven't been flower picking as of late," he replied dryly with a taut closed smile and then it dawned on you. Could it be from the mystery date you'd sent Feynman to set up?

"I'll put them in the living room, shall I? They'll get the strong afternoon light that will illuminate their velvety rouge petals," you expressed and he nodded emotionlessly, turning back to the toast and grabbing the pot of coffee.

Once you were alone in the lounge, you carefully inspected the flowers; they were beautiful and fairly fresh, only one or two were curling at the tips from the heat and as you held it up to admire, there was a small square piece of paper taped on the bottom of the skinny glass vase: It was a thin note, reading of a scrambled code of some sorts. You smirked, knowing it had to be Feynman who did this; he was always writing letters in code to his ailing sweetheart stuck in Albuquerque.

"Y/N, have you seen my badge? It's gone missing!" Robert called anxiously from the kitchen and you quickly tore the note off the bottom and tucked it into your pajamas.

"You probably left it on the dresser," you called back to him absentmindedly.

Once he left for the day, you sat down and worked to crack the code, which wasn't terribly hard considering it was predictable; boiling down to an address, date and time. You'd hoped for a name of the mystery gentleman, but didn't seem to get one.

That evening, you dressed in one of your finest silk dresses, red in color as the roses, and made your way to the bachelor's dormitory on the other side of town. You technically weren't allowed to be transversing around here, especially at this hour, and you cringed at a couple of catcalling whistles from young drunken men loitering outside. You ignored them, hurrying up the stairs to the mystery man's dorm and knocked once. The door opened, almost cautiously, and a decent looking young man stood there, his short brunette hair combed back and he wore a well pressed suit but with a blue tie slightly out of alignment.

"Good evening, Ma'am," he greeted in a pleasant voice and you automatically blushed, staring into his eyes which were a very watered-down literation of Robert's own blues; if his were the ocean, this man's were a lake on a grey skied afternoon and it made you feel a tad sad about doing this. Of course no man's eyes could ever quite compare.

"Hello...?" you trailed off, needing a name to this blind date of yours.

"My name is Anthony, Mrs. Oppenheimer."

"Pleasure to meet you and please, that makes me sound old and tethered. Just call me Y/N."

He nodded, stepping aside and you went inside, closing the door behind you as you surveyed the somewhat neat living quarters consisting of basic furniture and scattered paperwork and magazines.

"I apologize if this is rather awkward, but I take it Richard gave you the details?"

"More or less," Anthony answered and the way he was ogling at you wasn't so much like piece of meat, but out of respect and disbelief that he had actually had a date with the wife of the top dog scientific director of Los Alamos.

"Would you care for a drink? I just have, uh, scotch if that's alright. Probably different from what you're used to," he murmured the last part and you assured him quickly it was alright.

"Yes I would, thank you."

He handed a half filled glass to you gently and you noticed his hands were trembling slightly.

"You don't have to be nervous, I'm really not all that remarkable. I may have my husband's name, but I'm certainly not him, you know. We all bask in the long reaching shade of Oppie, don't we?"

"Right, of course," he chuckled, offering you a seat on the sofa and taking a sip of his own, regarding you impressively.

"Have you ever been with a woman before?" you asked tenderly and he shrugged, still rather timid.

"I was dating a girl back in college but we broke off right before I signed onto the project."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty four," he answered.

"Good, not younger than me; I suppose we are perhaps compatible then in that respect. You don't need to hear my life story, but I was a year in studying medicine at Stanford until this and now I suppose I'm just another housewife at the moment." You sighed, taking a small sip and nodding at him pleasantly.

"So what do you do here, generally? I take it you aren't one of the boys in Oppie's so-called cult?"

"No, I'm an engineer actually. I work in one of the labs, hands on, none of that theoretical bunch."

You nodded approvingly and there was a lapse of silence until he gestured with his glass, sloshing the liquid slightly.

"So I take it you're quite unhappy with... with Dr. Oppenheimer if you wanted to meet with another man?" he asked cautiously, disguising excitement.

"No questions, if you don't mind. I'm not here to talk about him," you replied seriously and he nodded fervently, setting the drink down on the side table.

"Yes, right. I apologize. I guess that doesn't leave much formalities then." He paused, swiping his tongue across his lips.

"I'd like to kiss you if that's not rushing too much," he proposed politely, but with a tone of urgency.

"Go right ahead." You braced as he leaned in, inches from your lips and you shared air for a second before he plunged forward, groping your mouth fast and lightly. But it felt all so wrong. You lightly pulled back, his hands not even holding your face like Robert always did so there wasn't much real intimacy, and glanced to the floor self consciously.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this," you murmured guiltily. Maybe it wasn't even your conscience; maybe he just wasn't the right guy.

"But I thought you wanted it...?" Anthony's brows furrowed in hurt confusion and offense, so you quickly backpedaled.

"Not here, we can't do anything here. How about... Do you want to come over to my home?" you blurted out abruptly and he swallowed.

"But is-isn't your husband home?"

"That's the point."

Gathering courage for the both of you, Anthony then stood and took your hand to walk you to the door, leading you out down to the street level and the two of you walked all the way to Bathtub Row together. You could tell he was in awe of these homes that were larger and much better constructed.

"So this is how the other side lives." Anthony gave a low whistle and you laughed, bumping his side gently.

"Don't worry. We use the same water, electricity, and plumbing as you do, it's just a little more glamorous and I promise you anyone living in Los Alamos to work on the project is not substandard or lower class, even if the military may be rather degrading at times. It's all just a socially constructed hierarchy."

He squeezed your waist affectionately and you led him to the house, telling him to wait by the shrubs as you walked around to peer into the windows to see if Robert was still up, which you'd be surprised if he wasn't, and indeed he was: reclining in an armchair by the fireplace, reading and puffing on his pipe.

You signaled to Anthony to come closer and he crossed the yard to stand by the side of the house, appearing wary. He mouthed 'do you see him?' and you nodded, turning your back to the window and beckoned to him to move close. He carefully did so until he was a few inches from your face and you swallowed at the intimacy, the daring nerve to kiss a man right in front of the windowpanes where your husband sat in the living room.

"Kiss me, but passionately this time, no holding back. Just pretend it's only the two of us, okay?" you whispered and he breathed in, parting lips.

"Is this a dream?" he whispered and you giggled lightly, straddling his body and cupping the back of his neck, hairs bristling your fingers.

"Only if you want it to be, but no telling anyone when you wake up, understand?"

"No one would believe me... I feel as though I'm about to commit a great sin against the Oppenheimer unity, I can't believe I'm going to do this," he admitted with a dark chuckle.

"I can," you breathed and before you knew it, his lips connected to yours and the kiss was actually amazingly passionate indeed for two people who just personally met tonight. You breathed in his musky scent and intertwined tongues, smooshing noses and you felt him push you up against the window, arms embracing you whole and you secretly hoped it would eventually catch Robert's attention. Your intention was just one full kiss, but now this man had you, he seemed reluctant to let go as you began to lean back from his mouth, head lightly conking against the window. Anthony groped your breasts hungrily and you felt his hard-on pressing against your thigh as your bodies rubbed, the kissing becoming sloppier and for a moment, you completely forgot what you'd done this for. A faint yell came from somewhere and Anthony grew more attached, tightening his grasp on your frame, kissing harder and you started to feel a slight wetness in your panties.

"Stop! Get off of her! Please, that's my wife!" Robert's voice called in audible distress and you realized this must look a lot worse than it was, and you had to admit this man was getting a bit rougher as his more primal desire came to fruition and you grunted, turning your head and trying to wriggle out from underneath his locking embrace.

"That's enough, enough," you murmured anxiously, but he wasn't stopping.

"You said this could be my dream, can't ya let me finish first?" Anthony growled in your ear, but you were done, having successfully alarmed your husband. This wasn't meant to go further and quite frankly, you were unnerved how quickly it had escalated. He wasn't quite the shy gentleman scientist anymore once he was aroused, but you supposed these types of adventures did bring out the animalistic behavior in most after all.

Simple souls, Robert had said once of human beings.

Unfortunately, he was now witness to such a 'simple man' about to take you right on the windows of his stone and log cabin style house.

"STOP THAT NOW!" Robert yelled off to the right and you felt Anthony being forcefully tugged away, his arm flailing out and trying to grasp, catching your hair and you winced as he accidentally yanked painfully.

You were suddenly released and you gasped, sidestepping and watching in shock as Robert tried to jump on the man, his belt removed from his waist and gripped tightly in his hands as he wrestled it aggressively around Anthony's neck, constricting with enough force to make him gag and choke.

"Robert, no!" you shouted, rushing forward and attempting to pull him away, but it was as if he were deaf to the wind.

"I demand you to LEAVE my property at once and to NEVER see my wife, or this won't end on civilized terms," he threatened loudly and you'd never seen such a fire in his piercing eyes before. It intrigued and frightened you, considering he was not a brute in any sense. Anthony pleaded through his choking, whimpering pathetically, until Robert finally backed off, snapping the belt and huffing.

The other man stumbled up to his feet and held up his hands in surrender as Robert squinted in the dark, trying to fully identify him.

"I'm terribly apologetic Dr. Oppenheimer, sir, I won't bother you or the Mrs. anymore, I'll be right on my way!"

Anthony ran like a bat out of hell from the property and once it was silent, Robert turned to you with heavy breaths, the belt hanging limply at his side. You took one look and then rushed inside in the house, kicking off your heels in the hallway and dashing into the bedroom, slamming the door, heart pounding a sprint.

Moments later, you heard his clodding footsteps and anxious voice calling out desperately, the door bursting open.

"Jesus Christ, are you alright?" he gasped as you shrunk away from him, still feeling Anthony's hands all over you and the whole guilt imploded, resulting in a sudden overflow of tears.

"Fuck, Robert! It's all my fault, I told Richard Feynman to set us up and I told Anthony to come here as a show to make you jealous and it advanced, I promise he meant no harm, we just wanted-"

"You did this on purpose?" he interrupted, betrayal lighting his features and you wiped messily at the tears streaming down your own.

"Yes! I kissed him on purpose! I wanted to spite you, I'm sorry but I cannot handle this anymore! I wanted to hurt and infuriate you like you do to me with your blatant love of other women! I bribed Richard $100 for a date with a single scientist, I didn't know what I'd get, but I'm glad you saw us together, it is only fair when I have to read love letters to past girlfriends... or are they just current 'friends'?!"

His mouth gaped and the frown lines appeared, creasing his forehead in prudent anger.

"The audacity... I suppose I indeed underestimated you, my sweet Aphrodite," he said lowly, voice a low rumble and despite everything you actually felt a shiver of arousal in your core.

In two strides, he met you at the foot of the bed, grabbing your head in a vice and in a bizarrely dominant twist, pinned you down to the bed, trapping you underneath him and yet you saw the uncertainty flicker. He was pretending to be so dominant, but couldn't take the reins fully.

Oh, Oppie.

"Roll over," you ordered sharply and he did, collapsing onto his back as you unbuttoned his pants and yanked them down hastily, staring at his cock straining against his boxers. You placed your palm on it, teasing him and he moaned softly, shaking his head at the deviousness on your face.

"No, please. Please, let me out, please don't do this, please..."

Begging. He was actually begging. After he just had attacked a man outside and was reeling from your confession, he was here at an embarrassingly burgeoning erection.

"I'm so close that I don't need you inside me, but I think you need a bit more help, is that right?" you whispered condescendingly and he gulped, eyes wide dilated marbles.

"I'm sorry about all of it, I never meant t-to-" he sputtered off as you clapped a hand to his mouth and you straddled his body, legs quivering with anticipation.

His penis grew harder and a clear wet stain bled through the fabric, causing him to squirm underneath you and you smiled, bumping up and grinding against clothed erection. You yelped at the sudden rush of internal pleasure and his hands gripped your dress at the hips, gasping along with your heaves and whines, but he himself was yet to peak. He seemed mortified as you then sat back and placed firm hands down on his crotch, holding his bulge tightly. He groaned, mortified as you wouldn't let him go, and after stretching him out to his limits for too long, a single squeeze brought him to a full climax, absolutely soaking his boxers and he threw his head back on the pillow, reveling in the orgasm.

Panting, you climbed off him and he weakly sat up, holding out a hand with the other on his wet crotch in sheer humiliation. You left the bed, gathering your appearance and catching breath.

"No, don't... Don't leave," he requested desperately from his spot on the bed and you shook your head, tousling hair as you glanced over at him.

"Clean up your own mess, darling," you told him firmly, a metaphor as much as a literal one.

He sighed, swinging legs off the bed and hobbling off to the bathroom as you began to undress, slipping out of the dress and into a bedtime robe.

He came back in, clean but utterly naked, and his dick was still dripping a smidge at the tip.

"You very much ruined a good pair of my underwear," he complained and you merely shrugged, patting the bed as you crawled in and he joined, scooting under the sheets and pulling you close, resting his forehead at yours, speaking in a mutter.

"You just had to stoop low with that male 'catch' of yours, didn't you?"

"That's not very nice, darling. Anthony seemed like a nice man and he's an engineer, I'll have you know."

"He isn't a third of the man I am."

"No one is you, Robert. That's why I went to another man in the first place."

"I truly wanted to suffocate the life out of him, I would have maimed him quite seriously had I lacked control. I haven't thought of doing such a terrible action since my Cambridge episodes, my terrible fits of jealousy... I suppose I expressed protection over you," he mused grimly.

"It's the thought that counts," you commented darkly.

"I can be so impulsive and erratic... You and everyone knows quite well how I was going to poison my tutor; I had injected potassium cyanide in the body of that innocent apple and left it on his desk..."

You remembered it had been Jean who had offhandedly first mentioned this story to you and she had assured you it was only because he was going through a very difficult phase in his life and actually all he needed to feel fulfilled was to just "get laid" as she aptly put it. Funnily enough, 'getting laid' was the least of Robert's problems now.

He took your hand at the moment and grasped too hard, squeezing your fingers, leaning towards you anxiously and speaking urgently.

"Listen, and I mean this very much: Don't ever see another man, I don't think I can do this again without gravely spraining my heart."

"And your enormous ego," you added the obvious with a small smile and he returned it, also giving you a light kiss on the cheek and cuddling in close.

"I love you," he offered gently and you shot him a glance, unable to hide the blushing smirk.

"Touché."

[cloudninetonine]

The Hero of the Oracles, was a man that radiated optimism. Despite his pig-like appearance, being the following Ganon of King and the preceding of Famine (not that he didn’t look to the brighter side, but he certainly didn’t radiate it) he was one of the more welcoming Ganons from within the group.

A contrast to your familiar pinky hero- Oracle kept a more positive view on things: to him there was always a solution to any problem, to him there was never any need to fret because to him, everything else was already so much better than what he had faced decades ago.

Similar to the villain Ganon, Oracle was originally a thief after losing his parents to only the goddess knew what at such a young age. He had to fend for himself, he was alone for so long before his first adventure had even begun and he had told you all this quietly amongst the flames of the campfire when you struggled to sleep on one of the many nights that your horrid memories seemed to crawl into your dreams and stain them with terrors beyond you imagination. He didn’t leave out the details and he didn’t sugarcoat any of what he told you- his honesty was nice in a way. These men weren’t perfect. They weren’t even on the side of light, they still served the God Demise and they were only the heroes to keep the balance as their Hylia seemed to strive for “Purification” in her eyes, anyway.

You had decided to tag her as ‘Martinet’, as it perfectly described just how worse she seemed to be.

It seemed the OG Hylia wasn’t all the bad anymore.

Oracle liked to knit, and sew, and crochet, and so much more of the textiles arts you had almost lost count. A thing similar to Legend, Oracle had grown an attachment to the arts after having to repair garments one too many times while on the road. It was a useful skill. A skill that he enjoyed, so it wasn’t rare to see him working on his own little project in the quieter moments- he had even sewed some pretty flowers into your tunic after seeing all the tears!

It was his peace offering at your bumpy beginning.

Oracle couldn’t go into town. Neither could Famine, or Betzalel, or Power or Pestilence- when you looked like a hulking moblin it would make sense to avoid towns like the plague, if you were in a group of moblin looking bastards you knew it would only end bad for you to ever step near civilization. So it made sense, the men staying at the camp to take care of everything while the other men strolled through the people for the journey’s supplies.

You were clutching carefully at Tide’s coat, like a child with his mother, attached at the hip. He didn’t mind though. The man preferred it actually, able to keep a better eye on your smaller form in the crowds- you were so “small” after all, was what Tide argued and, well, he wasn't wrong.

Didn’t stop you from trying to fight him about it.

These moments did give you time to glance around the area. Eyes rolling over the stalls in the markets, ranging from everyday food to magical items for daily use. What an interesting sight it was. Never in your life would you have ever expected to hear a salesman screaming about his “magic wares- good for the husband for his upcoming travel!” What kind of magic item was it? A protection ring? Blessed weapon? Leaning in a little, you tried to spot just what the guy was speaking about.

Only to be tugged along with Tide as he moved to the next stall. Following obediently, you made quick haste in order to keep up with the giant’s massive strides-

When a stall caught your attention. 

Your pause also had the older man stopping, not that your strength did anything but simply due your lacking grip when you turned to face the stall with the assortment of fabrics and crafting materials.

“My child?” He edged closer to the table also, looking over the stock with mild interest. “Is there something that interests you?”

The clerk, a Rito woman, chuckled lightly before her wing gently brushed the table over what you were looking at- the glowing blue fur that dazzled in the light of the evening sun.

“It seems you have grown a likeness to our blupee fur.” At your aghast expression she tutted playfully, “Come now, don’t think of me so cruelly! I would never kill such a beautiful creature! Not that I think there is a possible way to as such….these furs where shaven.”

You looked over them carefully, your hand gently moving over the material- this was reason blupee fur, you could feel the familiar magic of the mountain lord buzz in your hand. “You were able to shave a blupee?”

The bird woman laughed once again, “Me? Goddess no- my father, however, has his own secrets on taming the creatures. The magic of the furs allows for the greatest luck with rupees, adjusts for the environments and blessed with protection”

“Really?”

“Yes, the Lord of the Mountain does flow through each and every one of the creatures.”

You hesitated slightly with your next words, “When you say protection, you mean projection against evil….right?”

Tide’s hand came to gently rest on your back, a gentle reminder that he was here and whatever fear that currently tried to fight to your heart could simply buzz off.

The clerk looked sympathetic, “The furs are known to help in moments of panic, be it against evil or simply lost on a path, the magic will be there to aid you.”

It was certainly promising. As much as you didn’t want to part with your beloved cloak (a gift from Wild- your Wild, a reminder that one day you would return to them, at least you hoped you did…) it was definitely time for an upgrade. And an upgrade that could be handy if you have to deal with….them again, you could take that over sentimental value.

“I’m going to guess these furs do not come cheap?” Tide joked, pulling out his rupee pouch.

“500 rupees is the lowest I would go.”

“I’ve got it.” Tide watched as you pulled out your own coin pouch, balancing 3 silver rupees with a small handful of purples following, “Is there any other fabric that goes good with the blupee fur? Magical or not?”

“Hold on, I have a small deal that comes with the fur- discounts for such lovely customers.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Returning later than evening, Nature had started on dinner as soon as you had all settled down. Priming the pastry top for a nice smelling pie with the goods he had gathered from the market. Your stomach rumbled for the dish, the fire alluring you towards where it cooked on the gentle fire- but it would still take time for such to be ready to feast upon.

Which is why you used the time to approach Oracle, talking animatedly to Famine who listened to his younger self quietly, eyes focused on polish his weapon- his chopped ears twitching in a way which showed his was listening.

“Uh, Oracle.” The two giants faced you, Oracle with interest and Famine in acknowledgment, “Could-...could I ask a favour?”

“Of course!” He replied, lightly with mirth (You didn’t understand how such a kind giant could come from King, but then again King would have been the equivalent to an angsty teen with all his counterparts. “What is it you require? Does it have something to do with the fabrics laid in your hands?”

You felt heat run up your neck, your hands shakily moving towards him “I- I was wondering if you could make me a new cloak?”

“A new one? Put your one this moment is perfect! Why do you wish to part from it?”

You hesitate.

There was a constant fear that nagged right at the back of your mind. Always there, fleeting but present- it would probably never leave you for as long as you continued to live. But maybe, just maybe, there would be a way to hide from it. This cloak was your answer, promised protection from what in the shadows of Hyrule, both monster and not. You needed this, not wanted, but needed to feel safer, even with a placebo effect.

“I don’t want to…I need to.”

Oracle paused, as did Famine. The two shared a look, eyes reflecting a similar look of concern as you continued on.

“The woman at the shop said it’s guaranteed protection and I need- I just- Ganon can you please just-”

A large hand came to rest upon your head, like a giant sun and casting a shadow in your vision that almost blinded you before your locks were ruffled.

“If it is truly needed then I will happily make you another cloak.” Taking the the materials he looked over them in interest, whistling lowly “Such rich fabrics- it must have cost you an ear or two.”

“....are you sure you’ll be able to make it? Do you need other tools?”

“You doubt my skills?” he joked, going through his bag to pull out some items you did not recognise, “I could create the most majestic of cloth with my eyes closed, my dear, there isn’t a need to worry.”

…you trust him, why would he lie after all?

Walking closer, you move to sit next to the man but Famine tugs you into your arms and places you right on his shoulders instead. It’s your seat now, if you’re not walking with the men your on one of their shoulders- they didn’t mind though. Your weight to them was like a empty rucksack over their shoulders, weighing almost nothing on the expanse of their build.

Crossing your arms, you laid them to rest upon the head of Famine as you watched Oracles hands move- skilled and precise.

In the following few days you would have a new cloak, dazzling in the sunlight and just the added protection to what stalked you in the burrows of the bush. It would not laid rest the fear that kept true to you but at least you would have that added relief to it all.

Oracle’s hands moved so smoothly.

[kdramedies]

Oh In-joo, while naive in the context of the story we are being told, is not an idiot. In the first few episodes In-joo is established as someone who is resourceful, competent at her job, and a good sister. She always makes sure there’s a roof over her family’s head, food in their bellies, and tries to make sure that they’re (mainly In-hye) safe and happy. In-joo is really good at being poor. Which is why I don’t understand all of the comments I keep seeing calling In-joo an idiot or complaining that she’s too stupid so the show is “un-feminist” (whatever that means [does that mean women aren’t allowed to be a little dumb sometimes? Seems pretty un-feminist for women to be put into a box like that...]). Like, why the fuck would someone who has been dirt poor all their life suddenly be amazing in the world of money, murder, and politics? The first thing In-joo did with 2 billion won was buy name brand ice cream. That’s how poor she’s been throughout her life, corner store ice cream was her big first splurge (and it was on sale!). Some of her scenes have been played to add a bit of levity to such a dramatic show, the “hands up” scene is one of my favourites, but again, those scenes are of her experiencing situations that she’s never had cause to even wonder about before. I’ve certainly never thought about the bounds of plastic surgery, and if faced with a gun, I fully believe I would wet myself. But In-joo, someone who is earnest and takes things at face value, is somehow managing to survive in this world of lies and backstabbing she’s been thrown into. Some of it is dumb luck, some of it is Do-il saving her neck, but some of it is her. And I don’t just mean her badass moment in Singapore. Her resilience, her earnestness, her optimism and kindness. Every choice she’s made has contributed to the fall of the Jeongran Society. Her additions to their rag-tag team go largely unnoticed since she’s not unearthing the story behind it all like In-kyung, or a former inside man like Do-il, but In-joo is the one who has the mastermind behind all of this shaken. And it’s not just because this all started with Sang-a’s obsession with In-joo. Sang-a thought she knew In-joo, but like a lot of viewers, she didn’t know who In-joo would become. She thought In-joo would do anything for money, but instead In-joo would do anything for her family and her best friend, even after learning that their friendship was a lie. She didn’t know that behind her naivete In-joo was strong; stronger than her. Sang-a may be more confident, conniving, and quick-witted, but she can’t handle things not going her way. In-joo on the other hand, has never had anything go her way and as a result is more adaptable and quicker to bounce back.

This entire show is about classism and the ways that it divides us, schooling and intelligence is one of them. Without Hyo-rin’s family In-hye wouldn’t have had the opportunities they gave her. Without their great aunt, In-kyung wouldn’t have gone to university. But In-joo didn’t have anyone to give her a helping hand. People who are looking down on her character for being an “idiot” are only proving one of the points the drama is trying to make. If you’re poor, you’re considered unintelligent, if you’re considered unintelligent then people can treat you like garbage and get away with it. But Oh In-joo is done letting people get away with it.

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

warnings: swearing, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids)

tags: @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @eclecticwildflowers, @illiana-mystery

Staring at the door to hollies office, I swallowed thickly. I watched as they carried Ellis out while hollie hugged me. I bit my lip and watched the large blonde walk in. Hans looked out over the hostages before walking in after him.

“What do you think is going on?” I asked hollie. She frowned as we watched the blonde flip the desk. “Well shit.”

“johns still alive.” She whispered. I turned to look at her.

“what?” I asked. She smiled at me.

“only John could piss someone off that bad.” She answered. “So he has to be alive still.” I nodded at her optimism.

“I certainly hope so. He’s our only hope.” I whispered. “I have a feeling they’re going to double cross us.” Hollies eyes went wide just as hans walked back out. He looked over the hostages and started walking towards me.

“oh shit.” I whispered. Hollie gripped my arm tighter as Hans stopped in front of us.

“You. Come with me.” He said, holding his hand out to me. I swallowed thickly and shared a look with hollie. “The quicker you get this over with the quicker you get to return.” I looked up at him with a frown.

“return? Like Ellis?” I asked, my tone hard.

“Ellis? Who…oh the liar.” Hans shook his head. “As long as you don’t lie to me or try to harm me then no.” I hesitantly put my hand in his. Smiling down at me, he pulled me up. “That wasn’t so hard now was it?” He whispered as he led me back to hollies office.

“that depends on what you want me for.” I whispered back. Hans smirked at me and gestured to the desk before turning to lock the door. He then moved to close the blinds and I stared at hollie until she disappeared. “I…I don’t understand…” I said shakily. Hans rounded on me with a wolffish smile.

“strip.” He motioned at my clothes. “And I won’t ask twice.” My eyes flickered to his suit jacket where I knew a gun was. He smirked at me and I hurriedly started to undress. Walking over to me, hans put his hands on my hips and maneuvered me over to the desk. Sliding his hands up to my shoulders, he bent me forward. I shivered as he ran his hands down my arm, squeezing my hands gently before moving them onto the desk to support my weight. I felt hans gently kick my feet apart before hearing a zipper. “Now, I believe you know what is going to happen next?” He asked. I swallowed and nodded.

“I do.” I whimpered as he dragged his cock across my ass.

“and you are agreeable to it?” He asked, pausing his movements.

“yes.” I whispered. Hans chuckled lowly and slipped into me. I moaned at the feeling and he settled his weight over my back. I watched as his hand came into view and I hesitantly reached out with my pinkie to wrap it around his finger. Kissing my neck, Hans thrust slowly into me.

“good.” He whispered before snapping his hips in a sharp, hard thrust. I moaned as he repeated the action. I was pushed into the desk over and over again as Hans rammed into me. Hans was laying over me, pulling me back against him to try to stop any injuries from the desk. “Come for me.” He whispered as I panted. Reaching out, I grabbed his hand. Moaning loudly, I went over the edge. Hans followed close behind me. He trailed his nose along the back of my neck. “Thank you dear. Just what I needed. Clean yourself up and go rejoin your friends.” He kissed my neck and pulled out of me. “I may have need for you again. Depending on how the rest of the night goes.” I pulled my clothes back on, trying not to make eye contact with him.

“what do I say when they ask what you wanted with me?” I asked, tucking my shirt back in. Hans chuckled as he walked over and pulled me into a kiss.

“I think they already know.” He said, pulling the blinds back open to reveal everyone staring at the office.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

WIP Wendesday

Hello! Thank you @diazsdimples and @theotherbuckley for tagging me!

Here's a little bit from my upcoming chapter of Things We're All Too Young to Know - still on my 06x13 bullshit.

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Buck’s obsession with this eighty percent business is kind of getting on Eddie’s nerves. 

First of all, everyone gets it. He used to have a lot of sex. He keeps making mention of all the women from his past and Eddie fucking gets it! Like, thanks for reminding everyone you’re straight, buddy. Eddie had totally forgotten about that giant, devastating truth. 

And, okay, listen. It’s not like it’s just about women anyway, right? Is Buck even considering his own satisfaction among that - dubiously sourced - statistic? Eddie has only slept with two people - so not a great sample size - but he certainly wasn’t always satisfied. Even at times when he knew his partners were. So this is all just ridiculous and Eddie doesn’t want to hear about it.

Chim and Hen think it’s hilarious when Buck starts calling all his previous hookups to poll whether or not he pleasured them to optimal satisfaction. And, okay, the concept of it is a little bit hilarious. Objectively. But Eddie still doesn’t want to hear about it. Call him jealous or petty or whatever. Whatever! 

“So, i-it was okay then?” Eddie hears, walking past Buck in the locker room towards the end of their shift. “Like, you weren’t unsatisfied.”

Jesus Christ, Buck.

Eddie can hear the faint, muffled sound of someone replying. 

“Oh, great!” Buck exclaims in response. “I am really glad to hear that, you have no idea.”

Oh, wonderful. A positive review. Maybe Buck should start a Yelp.

“You’re still helping Chris with the bakesale today, right?” Eddie asks, voice a little pinched, after Buck ends the call. 

“Of course,” Buck answers. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Thought you might have to go express mail some questionnaires to Peru,” Eddie grumbles.

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No pressure tagging @pantsaretherealheroes @jeeyuns @aroeddiediaz @exhuastedpigeon @daniwib @daughterofscotland @steadfastsaturnsrings @fionaswhvre @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @mangacat201 @athenagranted @evanbegins @tizniz @wildlife4life

[30somethingautisticteacher]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by the fabulous @typicalopposite @bangpop91 and @nine-one-wanton 🙂

Here's a little more of In Awe (We've Created Life)--my mpreg fic.

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This press conference would be their first step into the public eye as expectant parents, and while it was daunting, they were ready to face it together. Evan's natural optimism seemed to buoy them both, providing a counterbalance to the stress of the situation. The world was about to get a much closer look at their extraordinary journey, and with Evan's positive outlook and Tommy's steady support, they were determined to meet it head-on.

Evan and Tommy arrived at LAFD headquarters, both feeling a mix of nervousness and determination. They were quickly ushered into a conference room where a woman with a crisp suit and a no-nonsense expression greeted them.

"Mr. Buckley, Mr. Kinard, I'm Candace Phelps, Head of Public Relations for the Los Angeles Fire Department," she said, shaking their hands firmly. "We'd like to go over some talking points with you."

"Ok," Evan replied, exchanging a glance with Tommy as they sat down.

Candace opened a folder in front of her. "First and foremost, it's important for you to emphasize how accepting LAFD is of same-sex relationships."

Evan's brow furrowed slightly. "I mean, that's true, but is that really the main thing we should be focusing on here?"

Tommy nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I thought this was more about Evan's pregnancy and how the department is handling it."

Candace's expression remained neutral. "While Mr. Buckley's condition is certainly unprecedented, we believe it's crucial to frame this within the context of our department's overall commitment to diversity and inclusion."

Evan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Look, I appreciate that, but this feels like we're sidestepping the real issue. I'm a pregnant man. That's what people are going to be curious about."

Tommy reached over, placing a supportive hand on Evan's arm. "He's right. We should be prepared to address the medical aspects, how this will affect Evan's work, and what it means for the department moving forward."

Candace pursed her lips, clearly not entirely pleased with their pushback. "I understand your concerns, gentlemen. However, we need to control the narrative here. We don't want this to become sensationalized or turn into a circus."

Evan leaned forward, his voice firm but respectful. "With all due respect, Ms. Phelps, it's already sensational. I'm the first known pregnant male firefighter. That's a big deal. But I think we do a disservice to everyone if we try to downplay that or hide behind general statements about inclusivity."

There was a moment of tense silence as Candace considered their words. Finally, she nodded slowly. "You make a fair point, Mr. Buckley. Perhaps we can find a middle ground. Let's go through the rest of the talking points and see if we can strike a balance between addressing your unique situation and highlighting the department's supportive stance."

As they were working through the talking points, Candace cleared her throat and added, "Also, we think you should get married."

Open tags!