#emi.freshtea

--

After that incident, Naoya forbade you from having any form of excursion and threatened servants left and right to take care of menial tasks. You had to tell him to stop yelling so much lest he scared the baby in your belly. Only then would he quiet down a bit and mutter, "My son isn’t that useless."

“You know…we could have a girl too.” You waited for a response.

Naoya wrapped his arms around you, a hand resting over your belly. “I will have no weakling girl.” 

Then the two of you, along with the one growing inside of you, fell into slumber.

--

Akiko, having gone through the process of pregnancy and childbirth, often checked in on you and answered any questions you had. She was very strict about the pregnancy meditation exercises. Under her watch, there wasn’t a single day you could slack. The medicine tasted awful, but Akiko insisted you finish the whole bowl. Often, she watched you finish everything, with a piece of candy waiting to wash the bitter taste away. In many ways, she was the mother figure in your life.

Mai and Maki stopped spending time with you after they began their lessons. You wondered if you made the right choice in sending them to training, but ultimately, in this clan, you knew they had no choice. You knew they were talented, in ways that you could never amount to. Strength meant everything.

--

One evening, while Naoya was still at a clan meeting and Akiko was away, you decided to charge your old phone. You weren’t allowed anywhere near it during your pregnancy, not that you had much need for it. It was bad for the baby, was what they told you. But the device was still something for you to fiddle with, the size felt like it just belonged in the hand. You flipped it open. To your surprise, you had gotten a number of missed calls from someone you would never have imagined—Gojo Satoru. You hesitated, but dialed back, wondering what could have happened.

The sound of his voicemail was playing in your head already. Except he picked up.

“Finally, it’s been ages. When will your clan ever embrace new tech?”

“Satoru,” you greeted. “What a surprise, I didn’t think you would have anything come to me about.”

He chuckled. “Can’t I call if I missed you?” 

“I’m married now, if you need to be reminded.” You looked down at your midsection. “And very pregnant.”

“Oh, I know you’re knocked up.” The breathy voice seemed to tickle your ear. Gojo was probably laying down, on a couch or a bed. “A main branch Zenin spawn is probably pretty difficult I assume? How are you still doing?”

“Pampered suffocation.”

“Good, good. It’s probably best you’re relaxed, take a seat. How is the Zenin young master?”

“Naoya…yes, he treats me well.” You smiled at the memory of him during lunch. He had personally sliced and plated fruit for you.

“Honestly, I didn’t even think that his spouse would end up being you. Glad to hear it though. And have you talked with your father at all recently?”

No. 

“They’re busy,” you explained.

“Too busy to even visit or inquire about their daughter?”

Gojo’s question stumped you. The question that you had wondered about ever since the first day was finally spoken out loud. Even for a clan as strict as the Zen’in, surely if you couldn’t visit home, they could’ve paid you a visit? A phone call?

“I figured. What wonderful parents you have.” Gojo’s lighthearted voice switched to a serious tone. “I suppose you still deserve to know the truth.”

He explained that he’s been working on a perplexing phenomenon of curses in a few districts. There was typically some sort of pattern to where they appeared, their type, and their strength. The data was odd and Gojo had studied each of the cases in detail. But it didn’t make sense to you. 

“Satoru,” you interrupted him. “I’m not really following?”

“Did you not understand? I just explained—”

“Yes, but why,” you exasperated. Images of your clansmen, covered in a white cloth, being brought back from the streets flooded your mind. Blood-soaked bandages and screams while the clan physician strained himself to attend to all the wounded. The nights your mother stayed up late waiting for your father’s team to return. The visceral chaos and stench of death loomed over everyone you loved. "You know what happened. The cursed spirits had been growing in power and they were overrunning the clan's wards. If Naoya hadn't helped, more the sorcerers would've—"

A dry laugh cut you off. "Would've been just fine if not for the youngest son of Naobito trying to win you over. Helped your clan? Who even told you that? Was it your father when the Zenin proposed? And you really just believed them? You're more stupid than I had thought. Were you a shy, bashful bride eager to be a little plaything for your clan’s hero? You never even wondered why it was only your clan's ward that was badly affected? Time to wake up, princess. Why would anyone from your family want to speak to the sacrificial lamb and reason for all their suffering?"

Hang-up, your mind screamed at you. How dare he point the blame at you. Where were you when I was in trouble Satoru?

“And why should I believe you?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to. A bastard and a dimwit make a lovely pair.”

You swallowed as your head grew dizzy and began breathing heavily in an attempt to intake more oxygen.

Gojo realized his harsh tone and sighed. “Are you still there? Listen, I know there wasn’t much you could’ve done anyway. I’m just telling you this because I suppose we were acquainted in our youth.”

Acquainted. Just acquainted. But more importantly, all that you have known, all that you believed for the past years were being torn apart and rearranged in the span of fifteen minutes.

“Yes. Thank you, Satoru,” you managed to whisper.

“I realize this is probably a surprise, but I also want to assure—” He was cut off by the sound of a woman calling his name in the background.

“I’m needed elsewhere; take care.” 

You set the phone down after Satoru hung up and sat in silence trying to piece together the information that was just dumped onto you. You fell back onto the mattress, a hand over your belly. A heaviness weighed down your chest. It was madness to believe the words of the man on the other side of the phone. What was he to you now? No one. Your father and mother explained everything to you. Who was he to tell you what was the truth?

The relief when everyone saw the Zenin clan symbol on the guest’s hakama couldn’t have been fabricated. The hope in people’s faces wasn’t a lie. Even though you were hiding behind the screen doors at the time, the sincerity in his voice when he asked your father for your hand had to be true. That man saved the whole clan. Serve him well. If Naoya was the hero, why were those the parting words from your family on the day of your wedding?

A quiet knock pulled you out of your thoughts. “My lady, I have brought your tonic.”

The room was completely dark already. Who knows how long you’ve laid there trying to make sense of everything? 

You dragged yourself to the door and found a young girl holding a wooden serving tray with a bowl of bitter, black liquid. “Lady Akiko is currently away. She tasked me to bring this to your ladyship.”

You picked up the bowl and quickly downed the contents. It didn’t taste quite as foul as you had remembered. “Is the meeting over?” 

“It should be ending around this time. Should I escort you to the main hall?”

“No...I can go by myself,” you said, dismissing her. 

You had to hear it from Naoya himself. He was your husband.

Every week, the main branch had a formal meeting. As you got closer to the main hall, you could hear the footsteps shuffling as the men in the room were wrapping up. Quite murmurs and grumbles over the meetings slipped through the cracks. The first person to exit the sliding door was Naoya. He had a scowl on his face, no doubt, the meeting took a turn for the worse as well, but it faded into a relaxed grin when he saw you, coming over.

“What a change to see you here waiting for me. I am starving—”

He was about to check on you when he noticed your blank expression and puffy eyes. You got straight to the point, spoiling the atmosphere in an instant.

"Naoya…”

Naoya’s eyes lost their initial glimmer. He noticed a few other clansmen looking your way.

“If there’s anything to discuss, you may bring it up later in our room,” he said firmly. He didn’t know the reason for your unsettling expression, but whatever it was that was on your mind, he did not want a scene.

Naoya thought back to the irritating meeting and the currently disintegrating relationship with the Gojo clan. The Gojos were being extremely selfish, trying to take control of the Jujutsu Sorcerer Committee's favor. All of them were envious of the Zenins, trying to push the clan off its pedestal. Naoya fumed at the thought of the six-eyed Satoru who had always been treated as the pride and hope of the jujutsu society. They were close in age, and despite the two never meeting often, Naoya heard more than enough about society's adulation of the infamous sorcerer.

He couldn’t hear what you were mumbling under your breath, but the few words he caught and the name of his nemesis told him that it was definitely not going to be a pleasant conversation. He easily scooped you up despite your protests and pounding fists on his shoulders. With a few long strides, entered the hallway near your quarters. Only then, away from prying eyes, did he set you down.

 “Is it true?”

Naoya heard it clearly this time.

He eyed you for a moment and scoffed, looking away in disdain. "Woman, what are you rambling on about right now? Can't you tell I'm not in a good mood? I said, let's go back."

“No.” Your irritation struck a nerve. “Tell me right now. Is it true that you were the one responsible for planting  those high-level curses into my clan's ward?"

Ignoring the squeeze on your arm, you continued, “Satoru told me everything.”

Naoya felt a vein throb in his temple when he heard the name slip from your mouth.

“How you plotted and controlled the curses to attack our sorcerers right after a battle. Those curses, they were all picked from the disciplinary room right? Special Zenin locked curses. You would let my people get hurt till they were close to death before showing up. Satoru told me everything, what more do you have to say?"

"Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. Do you just blindly believe anything he tells you?"

"Who am I supposed to believe, you?” you snapped back. “Satoru told me how you threatened my family, that's why they never said anything to me up until now.” Maybe you would still be at home, with family and loved ones.

You glared at Naoya in shock as the sting on your face settled into a sharp burn. He took a step back and pointed at you, confused and disoriented. “You. You forced me.” 

 This was the first time he actually struck you in this way. 

"What are you going to do Naoya? Kill your own wife and child? Is that how you solve all of your problems? With your oh-so-powerful, inherited Zenin techniques?" You turned and began to walk away. "You're fucking pathetic."

"Don't you dare turn your back on me!" he roared after you. "Stop right there!"

There was no room for fear while fury lit your eyes. You ignored the rest of Naoya's threats and stormed back to your room. Naoya was responsible for everything. He lied to you. He manipulated everyone and oppressed your clan. And you believed all of his sweet words, and enjoyed his kisses and touches. Your numb cheek taunted you.

You slid the door open, but your feet couldn’t budget. You gasped and felt excruciating pain stabbing in your belly. You clutched your midsection as cold sweat ran down your back. The last thing you heard was someone frantically calling your name.

–

“Do something!” 

“Young Master, t-there’s no response.” 

“I don’t fucking care, do something!”

“W-We’ll have to induce labor…and—”

Naoya glared.

“Yes! Yes understood!”

--

The lights in the room were so bright. In just a couple of weeks, a life could have filled this space. It would have been a boy, just as everyone had hoped. Now only silence accompanies you and your breasts that ached painfully. You never even got to see him. Did he look like you or his father? 

You sat in the empty nursery room that you had spent the last few months pouring your time and feelings into. As if the loss of your unborn child hadn’t been difficult enough, the hushed whispers of the clan had been torturous. You had felt eyes from members of the main branch to the attendants, all hundred pairs of eyes surveying you whenever you had walked down the hall, scrutinizing the woman who was incapable of carrying the Zenin heir to full term.

You lost track of how long you sat in mourning. Time ticked by slowly, but eventually, a day became two days. A week passed by and to your horror, your breasts full and swollen with milk, finally had to empty its contents. Milk leaked out your nipples uncontrollably.

Perhaps it was the presence of the milk and no child in your arms to feed the liquid to. Reality finally hit you while you poured another cup of milk down the sink.

The door slid open. It was Akiko bringing your meal. She knelt down next to you and pulled you into her arms. Her steady hand ran over your shoulders as she quietly said, "If you want to cry, then just let it out. There's no one else here."

You felt your nose prickle as the familiar sensation of tears spilled from your eyes. They soaked through Akiko's kimono, but she did not seem to mind, only resting her hand on your back while you wailed. You blamed everything on the father of your unborn child. It was Naoya who was responsible, you were sure of it. He took the child from you with his temper and violence. You cried for yourself and your unborn child.

Mai and Maki had once confided in you that their mother gave up on them. They had told you that their mother never stood up for them in front of their father and that you had been the only one who tried to give them care and love. And here you were crying in their mother's arms as a failure. Akiko may not have been able to do everything for her girls, but you couldn't even protect your child's life. 

–

You just finished a bath and were about to go to sleep in the nursery again. It was the only place you had some privacy and peace. Except, the room wasn’t empty at all.

“What are you doing here?” you asked coldly, arms folded.

Naoya saw you enter, and placed the decorative toy back on its shelf. He crossed over languidly, arm resting on the frame right over your head. His presence made you dizzy, but you refused to yield a single step. He also recently bathed, a bitter herbal scent clung to skin.

“Did you think that you could avoid me forever?” he murmured next to your ear.

Your eyes met with his. At this distance, you could make out the details of his irises. Naoya’s eyes were undeniably beautiful and intoxicating. “One day at a time, I’ll get there eventually.” You made a move to push him away.

“Foolish woman,” he chuckled and took your hands. “It’s time to go back to normal.”

Naoya pressed his lips on your palm. “I missed you. I need you,” he crooned. 

“Naoya, we can never be the same anymore. Not after—” You gestured to the room. “This.”

“We’ll have another. Once you’re with another, the clan will naturally stop talking.” 

“Don’t touch me. As if I’m some breeding cattle.” Naoya didn’t seem the least bit fazed by your attempts to break out of his grasp. His silence taunted you, daring you to challenge his authority. 

“I’ll never forgive you,” you snarled. All you could do was glare at him. “It’s all your fucking fault.”

Naoya tilted your face towards him. Fingers traveled down your neck and tightly squeezed. Your cheeks burned.

The air thickened as Naoya’s cursed energy began to fill the space. “In this lifetime, you belong to me. Accept your fate.”

Lips roughly closed over yours. The pressure around your neck made your head spin. Your fists hammered his chest in a futile attempt. 

Naoya yanked your robe open. Your nipples were heavy and swollen. Wet. He cupped your breast and squeezed the soft flesh, completely fixated on the spray of white milk spurting out. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, but the relief you felt from the release felt so good.

“Did that feel good?” he sneered before tugging and pressing on your breast some more. The front of his robes was covered by wet splatters. 

 “N-No,” you rasp, feeling Naoya’s hand travel towards your navel, tugging the waist-tie that was barely circled around your waist. He lifted one of your thighs to expose your dripping entrance. Cold air brushed against your thighs. “Not in here. Not in this room,” you begged, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Troublesome woman,” Naoya muttered and set you down. He clasped his palms together and began to draw an immense amount of cursed energy. “Domain Expansion: Time Cell Moon Palace.”

The nursery melted away as the space transformed into a dark void. This was the first time you’ve been taken into a domain, and it made you feel both weak and nauseous. A giant eye stared down at you, iris dilated, prying, and peering into your existence.

“No complaints here, right? Don’t even think about escaping.” 

Everything happened so quickly. You felt your back sink into a fleshy substance, legs folded and knees pressed up against your face.

“Wait, Nao—” And he was in you. You gripped Naoya’s biceps to stabilize yourself, nails imprinted deeply. A shudder escaped your lips after the initial jolt of pain. By reflex, you clamped tightly around him.

“Fuck,” he growled. “How are you still so tight?”

The dull ache remained from the recent trauma remained with every thrust Naoya made. Pleasure and pain are tightly bonded together. Disgust at the moan that slipped from your throat that earned a predatory smile. It drove him to pound you harder. His rough hand squeezed your breasts, spraying your overflowing milk supply. It splashed onto his face dripping down his jawline onto your face and lips. This was perhaps the first and only time you could imagine tasting your own milk. Naoya wiped his face and licked the opaque fluid off his fingers.

“It’s sweet,” he remarked, surprised by the taste. And almost feral, as though he had discovered something rare and precious, he dipped his head down to lap up the tiny puddles on the contours of your body. His tongue traced your enlarged and pert nipples, sucking on the sensitive bud to encourage more milk flow. You arched your back towards him, grinding your hips desperately in tears as you reached your climax.

Naoya grunted, feeling close. He held onto your hips and increased his pace until he came in you, filling your womb with a load of hot, white seed.

The darkness that surrounded you began to falter under Naoya’s distraction. The momentary weakness that came with the sexual release was like a pinhole in a balloon. Darkness melted away. The voyeuring eye disappeared, replaced in your vision by a mobile with soft plushies hung on a cotton rope. Nausea washed away the lingering, twitching pleasure.

“Get out,” you hoarsely whispered.

Still drunk on hormones, Naoya felt dizzy and confused. “What did you say?” 

Milk and semen stuck to your skin. Mustering all the energy remaining in you, you repeated. "Get out. Get out. Get out."

The demand-plea came out in constricted wheezes as your body convulsed and shook.

"Tch. "A scowl replaced Naoya's drunken expression. Completely fed up, he left you laying among the stained blankets. "You make me sick, woman," he spat at you. 

Governing all desire to be helpful is the language of service. It's in the special lunchboxes that you make while tossing another bandage wrapper into the trash. Crisp collars, freshly pressed not a single crease in sight. Driving to the next pharmacy because the only medication that will work for him is sold out. Thank you. That's what you know he'll do.

Next is a gift, the physical manifestation of your love. Words are merely whisps of noise, but this is the proof—the formation of atoms representing your heart. Yarn crossed and looped in a way that reminds you of your nerves when he's there. Cameras will see your love wrapped around him. It protects him, accompanies him as an extension of you when you can't be right next to him.

And the language of quality time, when every second is an infinite journey of joy. The moments you spend in a car, on a train, or on a plane. The moment before parting when he walks to the locker room and you find your way to the bleachers. The hours into the night on the couch watching game replays. Just having to be there with him, in the same space at the same time.

Finally, touch. The familiarity of skin. The sensation of heat. You caress perfection. You undo tight knots and replace them with soft kisses. Love is between the way you melt into him and how your fingers tangle into dusty-rose tresses.

Love. Is Sae. Is Love.

And that's where the end begins. It's a song in reversal. A hairline crack that's barely noticeable, but it's spreading throughout the vase.  Folded arms hide his hand away. A grumble after turning in bed. The shape of his back is an unreadable book. He seems to float away. So close, but entirely out of reach.

And the day turns to night turns to day turns to night. Time zooms by, passing faster than you can catch your breath. There's no time at all. To see him, you pick up your pace. To catch a glimpse of him, you'll try to wait. You stay up late. You wake up early. A weekend? Just an hour? His schedule never clears. Quality exists elsewhere, but not in time with you.

And emptiness, where there are no gifts. No reminders.  When the special dates come around, nothing special. Not even an afterthought. No proof, it's all just a theory, a hypothesis. Everywhere, there are reminders of him. There are things belonging to you. But the memories of "us" and "we" stop at some time in the distant past.

And weariness moves into your body like a speck of mold now consuming the entire fruit. Because everything you do is unwanted. You cut and chop and discard. Every attempt to serve what remains leaves you with nothing left. Scraps.

Finally, you wake up and realize that affirmation is actually spelled as confirmation. How can the vase not shatter when its base falls apart? Your suspicions receive an answer. The pleads finally come to a stop. He looks at you bewildered and slightly confused.

"I'm leaving, Sae." "Why?” "Because..."

There are five languages of love. But Itoshi Sae doesn't know any.

"I told you that I hate eating this."

"For the last fucking time, who allowed you to touch that with your filthy hands?"

"Get out."

And while Naoya lashed out at the attendants, you were never at the direct receiving end of his outrage. Instead, he would try to find you during his frenzy and then afterward finally calm down with enough reason. It soon became common knowledge among the attendants that should young master Naoya be ticked-off, they should immediately point him to the direction of his wife.

Today was no different. 

“The lady….The lady is in the study.” You heard a stack of books knocked over in the room across from you before something was kicked over. Naoya stormed into the room you were in, stalking over in wide steps. You thought, finally, he would have something to pick about you too, and already steeled yourself for whatever he had to say.

He dropped to the tatami mat in a soft thud. Arms wrapped around your shoulders as Naoya tightly hugged you to his frame. You could feel his deep, exerted breaths from his chest and heartbeat.

“Did something happen?”

“Weaklings, all of them. Pissing me off.”

A small, exasperated smile broke on your face. You had grown used to Naoya’s blunt, rude, and crass language. “Don’t be angry, it’s not good for you,” you advised. “They all had their own chores, why did you have to go around doing that? Just tell me if you have something on your mind.”

“Later”, he muttered before slipping a hand into your robe to cup your breast and pushing the fabric down to expose your shoulders. His lips found the bare skin behind your shoulders, still tender from the night before.

“N-Naoya. It’s still daytime,” you squeaked out, attempting to straighten your attire. “The servants are outside.”

Naoya growled and roughly pinched your nipples. “It’s nothing that they haven’t heard. They hear your cries for me every night.”

Before you could make another plea, you felt your back make contact to the tatami mat. The thick waistband failed miserably to the loosening fabric in order. Your kimono skirt was hiked up to your waist, leaving your bare legs free for his hands to squeeze and grab. Naoya straddled your legs around his waist, bearing down to grind himself along your glistening slit. Your toes curled tightly in the loose cotton socks.

He was hungry in seeking comfort from you. With his whole shaft buried tightly within your stretched walls, his groans fanned hot air on your earlobe. Heat and sweat melted across naked flesh. Your deep gasping breaths pressed your chest against his tightly.

“So fucking good,” Naoya slurred, before shuddering in ecstasy and unraveling his weight across your body.

You cradled him in the most intimate embrace. “Tell me now, my husband, what is troubling your mind.” 

Naoya doesn’t respond immediately, hesitating to reveal his thoughts. A gentle hand brushed over his damp hair, pushing the bangs out of his face only for the tresses to fall right back. Encouraged, he finally relented. “Father’s going soft. His lenience on his brothers. It’s a shame upon the clan name. Vermins of the main branch.” 

“The luckier they are to have you then.”

“The clan head position will be mine.”

“And why wouldn’t you, since Father is the current head? And your brothers have no aspirations for the position?” 

“They are probably poisoning the old man’s tea for all I know, treacherous bastards.”

You swallowed your incredulous question as to why they would if everyone was family. But your time here also taught you that the Zenins operated more as a community of winners versus losers. Naoya’s suggestion was very likely.

“There’s still a lot of time,” you carefully told him. “Besides you’re the leader of Hei and your name is feared and known. You’ll probably be the only candidate.”

"You're right about that. Only I can be the head of this clan. No one can take my birthright away from me." Naoya finally pushed himself up to get dressed.

“Shall I go draw a bath?” 

“No. Jinichi is training new brats, I have to go see myself if they are acceptable.”

The permanent wrinkles in your attire couldn’t be salvaged, so you made do to cover yourself decently. To your surprise, Naoya began to help you with your obi. It was obvious that he was in a pleasant mood.

“Jinichi is a strong and loyal clansman. His wife is quite talented as well.”

Naoya scoffed and secured the knot. “Hardly comparable, what are you trying to suggest?”

“Well,” you turned and softly held his hands, “Mai and Maki are growing up. Shouldn't it be time for them to have proper instructors to learn clan techniques and martial arts? They are already much older than when other children begin training."

"Ogi's spawns? This isn't the first time you brought it up, what makes you like them so much?" Women couldn’t amount to anything within the clan, so it would be a waste of resources.  

“Their mother, Akiko, has taken very good care of me. Mai has inherited a clan technique, right? I think Jinichi’s wife could be a good instructor. This doesn’t take up more of Jinichi’s time."

“Jinichi’s time shouldn’t be wasted on children.”

“You’re right,” you hurriedly agreed. “But the girls are still your cousin and an extension of the main branch. It wouldn’t do good to have someone else be involved in their training.”

You squeezed your hands around his and looked expectantly at him. The corner of Naoya’s lips tugged upwards. “Sneaky little minx, you have all this cleverly thought out.”

You smiled at the win and whispered. “As the wife of the future clan-head ought to.”

His grin spread even wider. “Maki is untalented, but her agility is still agreeable. You can send her to Kukuru’s training school tomorrow.”

“My husband is the most thoughtful,” you commended and tip-toed to press a kiss on his cheek.

Naoya snaked his arms around your waist in an instant. “I cannot wait to see more of your mothering instincts when you are with my heir. I am very pleased by this side of you.” His voice was sultry and low, numbing and seductive.

“Jinichi is still waiting for you,” you chided, putting some space in between. “I will have the kitchen prepare your favorite.”

Luckily, the call to responsibility was enough for Naoya to let you go. Although you still felt weak in your steps, you were excited to share the good news to Mai and Maki after a much-needed bath.

–

Your life pretty much fell into a routine, but one particular autumn day was out of the ordinary. Ever since you married into the Zenin clan, you haven’t heard from Gojo Satoru. More accurately speaking, even before your engagement, he was already out of your life. So, seeing him, white hair fluttering in the wind, standing in the middle of the clan courtyard was certainly surprising. You stood off to the side as Naobito and Naoya conversed with Satoru. A small boy hid behind him, dark eyes fluttering and confused.

The boy was called Fushiguro Megumi. His father was a renounced Zenin and the child took his mother's surname instead. You thought Megumi couldn’t possibly cause any harm, after all, what tides could a child—an orphan create? Except Naoya’s expression was very strained and barely hid the loathing in his eyes. If the clan insisted on keeping Megumi, you feared Naoya would tear out the boy’s throat on the spot. But with Satoru’s convincing words, and threats, Megumi was going to be under his wing instead. You saw the two out the front gate and managed to get a hold of Satoru for a few moments. 

"Satoru..." you met his gaze with a sort of distant familiarity. You had so many things to tell him, to ask him. All of the questions were stuck at the edge of your throat. “How have you been?”

"I've been well. Lady Zenin now, huh? And you?"

You let the title sound in your ears for a moment before answering a simple, "Good."

The last time you spoke to him had been through his voicemail—he never contacted you afterward. You couldn't see his expression beneath his mask, but you imagined that his eyes were still the same crystal blue. You averted your eyes to look at the weeds beginning to sprout in the corner while an awkward silence grew between the two of you.

"Well then, I still have lots to do, so I'll be taking my leave," he bowed and pressed down Megumi's head into a short bow too. "Come on Megumi, bow to your pretty auntie, you won't be seeing her anytime soon."

"Don't touch my hair!" Megumi grumbled, breaking from Satoru's grasp before fixing his messed up locks.

Megumi was very adorable. His dark hair and lashes were clearly from his Zenin genetics. It was this boy who had ultimately inherited the coveted Zenin family shadow techniques—the most prized one of all. It was a great and dangerous burden for such a young age after all, and you thought that Satoru taking the boy away would probably be best for both Megumi and the clan.

--

You winced as another vase was knocked over, crashing into pieces upon impact on the floor. Naoya let out another raging yell.

"That six-eyed bastard, Gojo Satoru. It's him, isn't it? You fancy him."

You made an attempt to reason with him. "There's nothing between us, Naoya. There wasn't ever anything between us. I married you, I am your wife. I haven't seen nor heard from him ever since our wedding."

"He doesn't even look at you," Naoya mocked. "Your husband was standing right there in front of you. But all you could do was stare at your past lover, huh?"

"Naoya—"

He was in front of you in an instant, rage and cursed energy pouring from him. The air was thick. You felt your throat constrict with panicked fear, as your legs gave out and you dropped to the ground. You shut your eyes and huddled in a shaking mess while Naoya knocked down the shoji screen and stood over you.

You've seen how well Naoya could fight, knew how easily he could've snapped your neck like it was nothing. You thought you were going to be an exception to his rage, that you were the one factor that could calm him down when he was irritated, but now that you were once at the receiving end, you had to admit to yourself: Naoya was terrifying and cruel, and you were not an exception to his wrath.

You hear fabric rustling and then a sharp pain jolt through your scalp as Naoya gripped a fistful of hair to lift your head up. 

“Pathetic bitch,” he sneered, squeezing your cheeks between his large hand. “Let me remind your pretty little head who you should look at.”

Eyes still seeing stars from the whiplash, you could only whimper. Naoya pulled his hakama down.

“Open wide.”

The moment your lips loosened just slightly, Naoya pushed the back of your head and shoved his cock down your throat. Tears prickled in the corners of your eye as your chest tried to heave the foreign object out with a gag. He pulled out for a moment and tapped the wet muscle across your cheek, precum smearing a mess. 

“I put up with your coyness because I find it amusing. That’s not an invitation for you to whore yourself out.”

“I wasn’t, I—”

“When I am disciplining you, you will not speak back to me. Be good.”

You could hear the fury in his voice and knew that there was no room for compromise at this time. The only thing you could do at the moment was to cooperate and hope that the whole thing would be over soon.

“Y-Yes,” you croaked and licked your lips. Naoya did not tug at your hair this time. You supported your hands on his thighs and lapped at the tip. You squeezed your eyes shut and focused on breathing through your nostrils. Naoya let out a pleased groan and immediately the room seemed that much calmer. For a while, his hand only rested on your head. The slopping noises from your saliva pumped adrenaline through your veins. But you were much too concentrated to give any attention to the wet pool between your thighs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered, taking half a step to adjust his balance. His pace became more erratic and each thrust more forceful, until he shot out all of his cum at release. “Swallow. All of it.”

The heavy smell and taste remained even after two gulps. After ensuring you swallowed, he re-tied his hakama, while you sat disheveled. Your eyes followed him across the room. Naoya spared a glance towards you before he slid open the shoji door. Three attendants knelt outside, head bowed so low their foreheads seemed to touch the floor. One of them must have been new from the way she trembled.

“Hear nothing and speak nothing if you value your life.”

“Yes, Master Naoya,” the servants said in unison.

When Naoya’s footsteps could no longer be heard, they slowly rose to their feet and entered the room with their heads still bowed low. The most senior of them quietly gave out orders to the other two who quickly began to clean up the broken ceramics and knocked over furniture. She approached you and presented a handkerchief, carefully held out with her palms. You quietly took it and turned your head aside to wipe your mouth. The attendant helped you up from your spot and you excused yourself from the room.

When you came back into the room, all marks of Naoya’s outburst were completely erased. The only sign was the new treasures that decorated the shelves. You quietly picked at your dinner alone, only managing to sip on some of the soup to soothe your raw throat.

--

The lamp on the nightstand was the only source of light in the bedroom. You sat on the edge of the bed and tightly gripped your phone. The model was very old and outdated, but still usable. Technology didn’t exactly match the aesthetics of this traditional household. You flipped the device open and navigated to the phone call history—a long list of pixelated red arrows. It’s been a long time since you connected with your family. They rarely responded to your calls and if they did, it was from a side member only. They said the clan was doing well and your father was especially busy. But details were never shared as you were no longer a part of the clan.

Some days you wished for someone to talk to. The closest people you could converse at ease with were Mai and Maki, but both girls were so young, there was little you could share. Akiko always kept a straight and stern expression, in truth, you were sometimes a bit afraid of her. The Zenins were a family that frowned upon laziness and inefficiencies. It wouldn’t reflect well for the daughter-in-law of the main branch to have a loose tongue. 

You didn’t notice Naoya’s presence in the room until he took the phone out of your hands and put it back into the drawer.

“If you’re worried about your family, you could just ask me. They’re busy you know.” He slid under the covers on his half the bed. “Why don’t you worry a little about me?”

You lay down on your side and shut off the lamp, bringing darkness into the room. The covers were pulled tight over your shoulders as you faced the edge of the bed. “You’re already so strong, what could possibly happen to you?”

“Truly, did you think I was this way?”

“Are you suggesting you were not?” You couldn’t help but snap back, regretting it immediately.

He responded with an amused chuckle. “Have I told you about my mother?” 

No, you thought to yourself. In fact, no one mentioned Naoya’s mother, so you knew nothing about the woman other than she died during Naoya’s childhood.

“She was an unvirtuous woman, a harlot who got what she deserved,” Naoya said coldly, hatred laced in his words. You learned that she was accused of an affair with a servant-class Zenin and the clan elders decided to cast her into the disciplinary pit. “How dare she selfishly ask to see me before her judgment. Did you know? I would have cut her down myself if I could.”

Did Naoya think that of you too? The blanket shifted as Naoya pulled himself close behind you.

“I know you and that Gojo don’t have anything,” Naoya said softly, a gentle hand cradling you against him. “You would never betray me the way my mother did me.”

Still you did not move.

He went on. “I was three. Scorned and starved. I will never forget those eyes that mocked me, and questioned my legitimacy. Then, I finally proved my birthright after demonstrating that I inherited my father’s techniques. You know those trash who doubted me? They were forced to acknowledge that I was a prodigy whether they wanted to or not. I would soon surpass each and every one of them.”

You didn’t know this about Naoya. It was the first time he was sharing so much detail about his childhood and, this side of him.

“They hate me as much as I despise them. They’re always looking for an opening to burrow in. In this family, there will never be anyone on my side simply because they favor me. My men follow me because I’m the only one who can emerge victorious. They value their lives, so they submit to me. Today, did you see how the elders were fawning over Megumi?”

You remembered the enthusiastic voices for the boy to return to the clan. You understood why. Naoya didn’t need to explain further. It was the elders’ only chance to find a suitable enough challenge against Naoya when the time came. They were all against him, his own family and kin. He had no allies.

Finally, you turned around in his arms and buried your face into his chest, where it allotted you feelings of security. Naoya seemed less like the cruel son of this prideful clan and more like a hurt child begging for security. One who lost all trust and attachments. You could imagine him as the young boy he once was, eyes rubbed red and raw, with no one to protect him. It made your heartache.

“I am with you, always, because I love you.”

His kiss wasn’t turned away. You allowed his affection, embraced and deepened it. Your body began to grow hot. You rolled over on top of him and boldly slipped your nightgown off. It was unexpected at first, but Naoya caught on.

You weren’t quite sure what you were doing, only that you wanted to prove some point to him. Both of you were poor souls in age-old clans.

It was a full moon tonight. The ethereal light pooled across the bed and illuminated your naked bodies. What was he so excited about? Was it your desire for him? Naoya marveled at the highlights that emphasized the sloping lines of your form, open and bare, for him to see. 

“You bewitch me.” Naoya easily flipped himself on top. He softly squeezed your waist, eliciting a surprised yelp from you. Before you could squirm away, two fingers drag between your soaked folds back and forth before dipping in and pumping slowly. “You’re so beautiful. So wet and ready for me. Do I make you feel good?”

You moaned affirmations and arched into Naoya’s palms, bliss washing over all the nerves in your body. This was the man your body yearned for. You cried out again when he entered you. His fullness filled you with completion.

Naoya’s moans were beautiful, you thought. It was because of you.

“I can never let you go,” Naoya muttered. His hands grabbed at the back of your thighs, pushing your legs over. Deeper sensations were being dragged out each time he rocked his hips into you. “I want to see you…round and with my child,” he rasped and fucked you harder.

Moans mixed with the lewd sounds of skin slapping and squelches. You had your arms wrapped around his neck, mind in a blur all you could do was chant his name over and over again. Naoya, Naoya, Naoya.

You came hard, trembling as release washed over you. Naoya held onto you tightly, embracing you like a treasure he could never part with. 

--

Before your second anniversary, breakfast with the rest of the main Zenin family ended with your nausea acting up aggressively. You barely began your run for the washroom when a painful lurch launched all the contents you ate out of your mouth. It was entirely miserable, and some of the other family members scorned how crude your behavior was, completely out of conduct. But thank goodness Akiko was there to assist you back to your room while the other servants cleaned up the mess made.

The clan doctor was called in and moments later, you saw Naoya rush into the bedroom and come towards you in big steps. He wrapped his arms around you, scooping you up securely into a spin.

"I have an heir," he announced to you in excitement. "You are with child."

Pregnancy. It explained all the changes and oddities that were happening to your body: the missed period, the altering physique, the lethargy, and the racing thoughts that would cross your mind more frequently than ever before.

Naoya let go and took a seat on the bed next to you while he watched you hesitantly place a hand over your belly that had yet to show signs of the growing life within. He felt a surge of pride imagining what his family would look like when the child was going to be born. A new potential heir to the main line hadn't been born in years. With Naobito as the current head, Naoya felt sure that he would be next in line, and once his son was born, it would be a clear lineage of succession no one else in the clan could argue against. That man's son, Megumi, shall never have any claim to any piece of the clan. Naoya would make sure of that.

All the arguments that had ever conspired between the two of you seemed to disappear in an instant. None of them really mattered because, at the end of the day, you were his wife, carrying his child.

It was around dusk when Naoya slowly stalked towards where Ogi's two twin daughters ran off to. It wasn't his choice to go out to fetch his very much insignificant younger cousins. What about their mother or the other servants? How did this menial task fall upon him, instead? Practically speaking, he was closest to where the girls had wandered off to, but the real reason was a cursed spirit on the loose that required the expertise of a Grade 1 sorcerer. If it weren't for the need to accumulate more merit points in order to successfully advance to Special Grade 1, Naoya couldn't be bothered if two useless girls were gone.

Meanwhile, you were also taking a walk in the vicinity, trying to get some air from the stuffy clan meeting. Your clan was meeting with the Gojos to discuss some of the increased security needed in one of the wards. It wasn't anything you were particularly interested in, considering that you had little cursed energy nor much talent with cursed weapons. The summer night was still warm as dusk stretched on for a long time. Past the tall grass where butterflies hovered, you saw two children huddled together in quiet sobs.

"Mai, don't cry. Don't cry." One of the girls was comforting her twin.

"Maki, I'm so scared," Mai bawled, burying her face in Maki's clothes. "It's right there! Maki!"

The child, Mai, pointed towards a grotesque figure hiding in the grass field. A cursed spirit. From the looks of it, it was far from weak. Despair rained out from its eyes in black globules as it wheezed out twisting, wiry words. WWhy? Whhhyyou do this? FfforrrrrWhat? AreArrreAre youHahhaappy nooow Hurrrtinggg? It looked as though the curse was crying over heartbreak, but your training told you that you should know better than to sympathize.

"Get out of here," you told them, placing yourself between their small, huddled figures and the source of threat. Realistically, this spirit was not something you could take on, but there wasn't any time left. Between you and the children, it had to be you. You had to do everything in your power to stall this spirit until they could get away.

"Mai. Maki. There you are, wenches," a harsh voice interrupted. It made you turn your head towards the owner of said voice. Before you could get a good look, he disappeared in a blur. By the time your senses came back, the cursed spirit was exorcised, and the man, who you now saw right in front of you, was looking at you with annoyance.

You blinked and gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "Um. Thanks."

It seemed as though the frown on his face grew into a full scowl. "Did you think you could've defeated that spirit? You're not just weak, you're also stupid."

You bit the inside of your cheek and inhaled sharply. You had thought that politeness would be returned likewise, but you realized at the moment, that was just naivety on your part.

Mai and Maki bowed deeply to the man, who you later learned was called Zenin Naoya. Your clan already had entanglements with the Gojo clan, so you knew not to trifle with the Zenins—especially the son of the current clan head.

Naoya did not have a gentle personality. It sounded like a bad joke when you even put his name and "nice" in the same sentence. It didn't surprise you in the least when Mai and Maki held onto you tightly and were very reluctant to follow Naoya. At their request and your own desire to make sure the girls got home safely, you decided to go with them to the complex.

You chatted with Mai, who held onto your left hand, and Maki, who softly grasped your right. They seemed to be a lot shyer than other girls their age, but you found them to be so adorable. When Mai quietly called you "big sister," it made your heart loop around with joy. If you noticed the glaring judgment shooting daggers from behind you, you only ignored it.

Naoya was walking behind the three of you, observing your movements carefully. His eyes were fixated on your hands that seemed to cradle, gently and securely, Mai and Maki's much smaller ones. He wasn't sure what he was expecting from you at this point. A surprise attack? That would be stupid. A hostage situation? He'd just let you take the girls. It made his inwards twist uncomfortably seeing you beam happily when Maki told you about the cat she saw the other day. He scorned those who were feeble, but still wanted to play hero, taking care of people and whatnot. Weaklings should just keep their head down, but your head was held high and your laughter rang clearly in his ears like a summer wind chime. Disgusting.

When the four of you arrived at the Zenin clan's main entrance, Naoya relished that you were finally going to be gone. You were an uninvited pest, a guest that had no business in front of such a proud family's gates. He snapped at Mai and Maki to get back inside and go receive punishments for causing trouble. You looked troubled, peering through the main gate to look at the girls wandering in, offering that expression of worry and concern Naoya rolled his eyes at.

"Hey," he leaned against the side of the door frame, crossing his arms in front. "If you want to come inside so badly, you'd have to be a Zenin. I have yet to choose a bride."

A pleased grin stretched across his face when he saw bewilderment flash across yours, followed by a flustered expression that contorted into embarrassment.

"You flatter yourself too much," you muttered, before turning on your heels and briskly walking away.

So uncute. If he knew you were going to run so soon, he should have teased you a bit further, played around with your expressions for a while longer. Make it so that your knees would be so weak that running wasn’t even an option. Naoya watched your form grow smaller and disappear around the corner, before he closed the front gate and went back to his corner of the large clan complex, mood completely lifted. There were no challenges that he, Zenin Naoya, couldn’t overcome. Nothing that a bit of time, money, and power couldn’t achieve.

--

He finally got to hold your hand—today, tomorrow, forever. Naoya accepted the small cup from you and took the final sip of the shared wine. The ceremony was now over, and you were now a Zenin.

Celebrations continued far into the night. Your clan bestowed their final blessings on you before their departure. The other affiliated clans of the Zenins came to offer their congratulations and refortified inter-clan relations. As the new daughter-in-law in the main branch, your wedding would mark the beginning of your entrance into the web of clan politics and leadership. Everything you said, each time you bat your eyelashes, even an accidental side-eye would be interpreted and used. You and Naoya thanked every guest for their presence and saw them off, and finally you were joined by your husband in some privacy.

Naoya came out of the shower and took a seat next to you on the bed. The smell of his body wash still clung to his damp skin. He asked you how you were feeling and a few other questions about the events of the day. There were so many details, it all seemed fuzzy to you already.

"You know, when you finally accepted the proposal, it made me very pleased."

His admittance made you tense up momentarily, eyes meeting him in alarm, before you let your shoulders relax again.

"Do you love me?" Naoya asked, caressing your cheeks with the back of his hand.

Was it important? You thought it was all politics. Your gaze met his and bit back the tinge of guilt that threatened to crack on your face. Naoya’s eyes seemed to be filled with an emotion that you had yearned for another to grant you, but never did.

"I'm grateful for all you have done for my clan," you spoke carefully. For many years, even before your birth, the clan had been struggling to train its sorcerers and pass-on its special techniques. The situation never got better. Unprecedented casualties from dangerous curses plagued the wards your family watched over. Widespread panic and distrust ate away at the stability of the main branch. Partnerships with the Gojo never manifested and calls for help fell on deaf ears. There were talks of deposing your father and even the dissolution of the entire clan.

You were forbidden from leaving clan compounds for your own safety. But everything started to recover when Zenin Naoya paid a visit one day and graciously offered to assist. The newly appointed leader of the Zenin's Hei unit, youngest in its history, led successful raids and exorcisms in the majorly affected zones. It was thus only reasonable when the Zenins sent a marriage proposal to your clan that you would accept. It was only right that the clan-head's daughter devoted the remainder of her life to the man who saved her clan members. 

"Your clan used to be respectable enough yet generations of cowardice has made you all weak. But it doesn't matter. One day when I am clan head and you, the mother of my sons, the status of your clan will improve as well."

You were a bit taken back by Naoya’s ambition. His father was alive and well; unless Naobito truly had reason to surrender his position, it wouldn't be for many more years until the question of the next Zenin head would come up. Moreover Naoya had older brothers. And children. The thought that you would become the mother of his children—you were more surprised than offended by his harsh commentary about your clan.

"Don't be so scared of me, I am your husband and you are my wife. I will treat you well."

For such a dangerous man, his voice was soaked in honey. This was the man you scorned at during your first meeting and were now bound to. You held your breath as he cupped your face towards him, his eyes low and fixated on your softly parted lips. You grasped the fabric of his sleeves, steadying yourself when his presence washed over you, lips pressed against yours. Heat followed every inch of your skin that his fingers traveled over. His words and breath beckoned you to accept him in your entirety. Entangled within the faint smoky wisps of snuffed candles, two heartbeats chased one another.

"Finally a Zenin now...wife..."

You were still awake in the hours of early morning, unable to fall asleep. You glanced at the sleeping figure of your husband next to you. The arm slung over your waist and the rhythmic breathing reminded you of his existence every passing second. Your body felt so heavy, still tingling with fizzed out excitement from earlier. Naoya had coaxed out unimaginable sounds from you and peppered you with the sweetest praise. You wondered if you would get used to sharing a pillow with him—a life. 

The day your father had announced that he accepted a generous bridal gift from the Zenins, the first thought that fluttered across your mind was a man with hair white as winter’s first snow. Surely, you had foolishly thought, Gojo Satoru would stop you from becoming someone else’s bride. But all of the calls you had dialed only lead to his chirpy voicemail greeting. It was his larger-than-life energy that initially drew you in. It had really just been a one-sided, fevered dream of a young girl—a first crush, a naive pining love. You couldn't complain either. Satoru never promised anything. Maybe he hadn’t known how much his teasing grins pulled at your heartstrings, or how sweet the desserts he had brought back from his travels tasted to you when he snuck them to you at midnight. To the girl who grew up within the walls of her home, Gojo Satoru seemed like the world. But if his clan never answered yours, what made you think he would grant you any attention?

Your clan owed the Zenins. They were indebted to Naoya.

Faced with your current reality, you didn't know why Naoya seemed so fixated and intent on choosing you as his bride; after all, you were sure that there were plenty of other potential candidates. Growing up, you were constantly reminded of all of your shortcomings. Even on the day of your wedding, just this morning, your mother preached the virtues you must exhibit. But, Naoya chose you. You tucked yourself perfectly against him, taking in his scent. He promised that he would treat you well. You had an unwavering place, deep within his heart. Irreplaceable and exclusive. That thought made your heart swell.

"What are you doing here at this hour?" he reprimands. "What if someone saw you sneaking around?"

"No one saw me! Everyone's asleep," you whisper while slowly bringing the box higher up into view. "Just wanted to bring you some desserts. I made them myself."

"Still, you're too rash. You've already pinned your hair years ago. You can't just come running to a man's room at night."

"But you're not just any man, Kiyoomi-gege."

"Already grown, but still so stubborn like a child." Sakusa sighs with a chuckle, combing a hand through his hair. You follow him deeper into the room to his study where numerous scrolls and books are stacked neatly off to a pile on the wood-carved table. The expensive wolf-hair and rabbit-hair brushes hang neatly on the brush stand. Sakusa smooths out a fresh sheet of paper and points at the inkwell. "Ink."

"Huh?"

He glances at you through a sheer curtain of his hair. "Since you're here already, at least do something."

"Oh!" You set the box down on the tea table off to the side and hurry back to the study. You roll your long sleeves up to begin grinding the inkstone. The slow circular movement of stone rubbing against wetted ink comes almost second nature to you now, after spending hours upon hours accompanying Sakusa in his study.

Sakusa Kiyoomi has always been a studious, talented grandson of the late Grand Chancellor Sakusa. He comes from an illustrious background: a father who is the Minister of Justice that oversees all of the Justice Bureau, a mother from the Komori clan of which the current empress dowager hails from, an aunt who is a favored concubine in the emperor's harem, and many other uncles and cousins also carrying official titles and positions.

As the sole heir from the main branch of the family, it's only natural that this lineage to uphold is a burdensome weight over Kiyoomi since his womb-days. With constant studying and endless lecturing, Sakusa grew up different from the pampered sons of other elite families.

"We owe all of our clan's prosperity to the throne. As servants of the Son of Heaven, it is our duty to remember our place and uphold our family's honor in loyal and earnest service." Grandfather often said this whenever the family gathered for meals. The first cup of wine always toasted the direction of the palace.

Even Kiyoomi's given name, sagely official servant, serves as a constant reminder that no matter how influential or big the clan gets, it will always be the servant to the throne. And the honor of hundreds of clansmen, ward, and servants rests on his shoulders.

Growing up, you were always scolded for disrupting Sakusa's study time. No matter what time of the day, he was always studying and studying. It felt cruel that he would be cooped up inside, so you often spent your time somewhere around his courtyard. He would watch you frolick under the peach blossoms or scurry around the snow-covered courtyard from his latticed window. If you met his gaze, you would smile brightly and wave, begging him to please come out and play. He would humor you, and then the others would find you. Then you were in trouble.

You weren't born from the same mother as Sakusa, but from a concubine who was brought in one day. There were even questions over your blood relation to the Sakusa lineage. But Kiyoomi never cared about that. He told you that only what was inside mattered. Character at the heart. Devotion in the soul. Loyalty. He treated you with kindness and love.

"Y/N?" Sakusa asks, breaking you out from your stupor.

You blink back to your senses in Sakusa's study and see the paper where all of his characters are neatly written out with black ink. You pause, finding yourself still mindlessly grinding the inkstone. "Ah, I made too much..."

"No worries, I never have enough," Sakusa says. "Standing must be tiring right? Do you want to sit?"

You roll the sleeves back down and sit down at the tea table. Carefully turning over two cups, you pour the osmanthus wine you brought. The action of pouring is also one you have done many, many times, but your hands begin to tremble no matter how much you calm yourself down. Thankfully, nothing spills. Even more thankful, that Sakusa doesn't notice anything abnormal. "Aren't you tired Kiyoomi-gege? It's your wedding tomorrow, yet you aren't even sleeping."

"I had some thoughts for this essay, that's all. I'll rest soon."

"I did bring some snacks for you, you know." You walk over to him and tug on the corner of his sleeve. "It took a lot of effort. If you wait, it'll all go to waste."

"Agreeable." Sakusa sets the brush down. "A break then."

You beam and reach for his hand. "All your favorites! It's all completely handmade by me. No one else helped."

You barely touch his skin when Sakusa folds his arms across his chest. Although a bit disheartened, you keep a lively smile on your face and open the box you prepared, taking out one dish after another. There's not a lot of each, but everything is a delicate bite-size with an assorted variety. You push one of them towards Sakusa who looks at the intricate design and then back at you.

"No one else handled it?"

"For you, how can I let anybody else touch it?"

Sakusa picks up a small flower-shaped pastry and takes a bite, savoring the subtle sweetness on his tongue. His tiny nods make your heart swell with pride as a smile blooms on your face. "It's good," he compliments.

"Try this too," you switch the plate for a different one.

Sakusa tries the dessert. "You have a talent for this. Whoever you marry will be very lucky."

Those words, coming out through Sakusa's mouth in his voice, are like a hammer knocking your mood down three ladders. A frown forms as you plop down on the seat next to him and rest your head on a supporting hand. "I only like making things for people I love. Like you."

"How lucky I am then, to have such a dear little sister," he comments, finishing the last bite. "You have to get married one day. He'll definitely be a gentleman. What about Waka—"

"No, I won't. I don't want to get married."

A look of understanding crosses Sakusa's face. His voice falls even lower, keeping the syllables in a hush. "Is there someone that—"

You sneak a glance at Sakusa before turning your burning face away. "There's no one!" you insist a bit too loud, a tad too fast.

"There is, isn't there?" He chuckles. "I wonder what sort of person would attract a picky girl like you. Tell me?"

How are you supposed to tell him? Can you tell him? Your eyes drift over to the two cups sitting quietly on the table, still untouched. Desire pounds within your body, a burning ache for the man who has your love unknowingly.

One of the cups moves.

"Is this the osmanthus wine you made last spring?" He swirls the contents and prepares to sample a taste.

"Wait!"

The cup pauses and is set down.

"Do you want to get married, Kiyoomi?" Your bright eyes search his neutral expression for a hint of dissatisfaction. Your hand tightly grips a bunch of skirt fabric. "Do you like her?"

"'Marriage is decided by one's parents and matchmaker'. For us from important families, it's even more so the case. Each marriage, every union, is for the benefit of the whole household."

"I know! But I'm asking if you like your bride. Can she make you happy? I don't care about rites or honor or any of that stuff. I only care about—I only want you to be happy..." You stammer through the words, careful to not let your secret slip. Your face leans close to his, close enough that you can see his features clearly in the dimly lit room. "You haven't even met her, right?"

"She's Komori's sister, Mother's niece. I'm sure she's a very proper lady." Sakusa looks away. "Feelings can grow after," he says simply.

So, he doesn't like her, you conclude, sitting back down. Of course, he does not, he hasn't even met her yet. She's supposed to be the same age as you, but because of her family, her different yet powerful surname, she can have a position that you will never have. That thought irritates you immensely. It angers you so much. You have never felt such intense hatred for a sister you have never seen.

She wouldn't know what Kiyoomi likes: the consistency of the ink he writes with, how he likes his clothes laundered and folded, how he likes his food. Not even the servants of the Sakusa household know better than you. Only you. Only ever you.

But no matter how much you dream or pine, hiding your feelings between embroidered threads or wrapped pastries, the Sakusa name keeping you close to Kiyoomi is also what pushes you two apart. It's an injustice that you have no one else to seek help from. That's also why...why you're here at this moment. Tonight.

"Ah! Chuu~" Kiyoomi would hate this, you alarm, panic rising to your chest. You turn quickly to apologize to him, only to see worry in his face and the handkerchief he extends out to you. He holds you in his gaze, at the center. He looks at you tenderly. With love.

"Did you catch a cold? You are wearing too little on the way here at night." Sakusa frowns at the few layers of silk you're wearing. Not even a long overcoat in sight.

You accept the square fabric and soon find that the motif embroidered on the corner is familiar. Your heart stirs, beating against your chest. Your breath hitches and the corners of your lips tug upwards.

"I keep all of the ones you make for me," he explains, a faint smile warming his face. You're like the first morning light on the pine leaves. Clear and unsullied, with your emotions written clearly on your face. It's easy to make you happy.

"You say that anyone would be lucky to have me as their bride. What if I were your bride?" You mean it. Wholeheartedly, you offer yourself to him: for judgement, for acceptance.

Sakusa laughs, hiding his grin behind the sleeves of his white robes. "What a foolish girl."

But you're not foolish, you want to say. Not a girl, but a woman in her adult years, you want to argue. Sakusa continues after his laughter. "I'm your brother and we share the same last name. Nothing's going to change, meimei, I'm still living here and you'll see me tomorrow. And tomorrow's tomorrow. Rather, it's you, who'll one day leave this place to marry away."

Again, with his instance that you'll marry away one day. It's like a test, a bait for you to test your faith. You smile sweetly and let a soft giggle fill the space. "I'm just teasing. I know I'm not your bride, gege. Then, a toast—" you pick up both cups and hold one out to Sakusa "—for your marital bliss."

Sakusa accepts the cup from you. "I thought you were too stingy earlier to let me try."

"Not at all!"

Clink.

The osmanthus wine is sweet, smoothly rushing down your throat. It's stronger than you expect, already warming your body.

"It's good." Sakusa compliments, turning the cup in between his long fingers. You don't know if he's talking about the wine or the ceramic, but your mind is becoming airy. Sakusa's pale skin is starting to flush a visible pink.

"It's...strong," he says with a frown, then presses down on the table to stand up. "I...I—water..."

You leap up from your seat, the wooden stool knocking over onto the floor. "Kiyoomi-gege," you mutter softly, courage overtaking your body as your arm wraps around his waist. The sides of your face press against his broad and strong back. You can feel his body warmth and the shape of his muscles under the thin garment. "My heart is with you. My feelings for you, I—"

"You're crazy," he snaps sharply, hands prying at your embrace around him. Sakusa's body begins to react to your struggling squirms to hold on. He's not sure how much you have dosed the cup, how long or how strong this drug will last. All he knows is that he must have you leave, sooner the better. Or, he must hurry away before an irreversible mistake is truly made.

Sakusa grunts and shoves you away with all the strength he can muster in this compromised state. He stumbles through the room, knocking into the tables and pushing over the stacks of books carefully organized on the shelves. Sakusa's body is burning, sweat rolling down his back, and his clothes feel uncomfortably tight. He's ten steps from the door when your fragrance suddenly wafts in front, saccharine sweetness washing into his mind and body. Soft hands and a warmth press against his chest. You call out his name, rolling over the syllables silkily.

"Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi."

"N-No," he mumbles, pushing away blindly, his palms touching a plush softness. "Leave, hurry. Leave!"

Sakusa mentally recites all of the texts he has ever studied, running through the lines of each of the classics. Faithfulness, sincerity. The first principles....Principles...

The dim candle light flickers, casting a shaking glow on your face. Your lips, soft and subtle under the light, are inviting like candied dew drops. They come closer, faint on the corner of his quiet pants. He turns his head away, but you chase him, searching for his contours.

Be set on virtue, no practice of wickedness... A gentleman must...

Cascading beaded curtains swing into one another.

"No," Sakusa mutters, trying to lean away from the perfumed body of yours, but he falls back onto silk bedding instead. His lips feel dry and parched. His blood boils and rushes below his waist.

"Have you taken a bedchamber maid before, Kiyoomi?" you ask, tugging at the ties of his waistband. His erection is hot, pressing against the fabric. "Did you like Spring Plum?"

Spring Plum was three years older than Sakusa, intended as a maid who stayed with him most intimately in his study and bedroom. During the day, she would organize the books for him and at night, assist him for rest. You seethed and fumed. A lady shall not harbor jealousy. But the harlot spilled filthy lies about your dearest Kiyoomi to the other maids and tainted the righteous family name. You sold her straight to the street brothels of the last district.

"Spring Plum... I never touched her..." Sakusa admits. She was removed before anything happened, to his knowledge, and no more female attendants surrounded him after. He's untouched. Not ignorant to the bedchamber, but...

He's not sure why he's telling you this as if he owes you as an explanation. At this point, he's not sure why despite the way your hands writhe across his body, he won't move. It's the drug that is blurring your image in his mind, clouding everything and pulling at his carnal desires. He struggles against it, slipping into an insatiable burn that needs to be quenched. It's the drug.

You giggle. "It doesn't matter gege. I was just curious!"

Shaky, but not unsure. Shy, but also bold at the same time, you loosen his trousers, and his cock springs free. A tiny gasp slips out in admiration of how beautifully shaped he is. Veins decorate the girth in perfection, and a glistening red tip rivals the flush across Sakusa's face. Your fingers snake around his skin, wrapping around his hardened length as though you are holding a scroll in a library. The grip is firm and slippery, twisting and gently pulling on his skin in a slow, desirable motion.

Sakusa's face scrunches, mouth falling open into a shuddering breath. "Wha—"

You kneel at the edge of the bed frame, huddled at the base of between his legs. The last layer of silk covering your shoulder is shrugged off. Sakusa's hands dig into bedding, brows furrowed in both shock, denial, and curiosity. With your lashes fluttering down, soft lips pursed and moist, your head lowers and lowers.

Sakusa groans at how your lips welcome his tip, a devious tongue carefully licking and lapping at his sensitivities. Teasing, like you are trying a new dessert on the hottest day of summer. You don't lap fast enough; juices, leaking from his tip or your mouth mixes and runs down.

Your head bobs gently, smoothly picking a tranquil pace. The taste of Sakusa penetrates your throat, fills your nose and mind. You want him so badly. Selfishly. You swallow and take all of him like a rare treat to be hidden underneath your tongue until he melts.

Should the people be led by laws, and uniformity be given by punishments, they will try to avoid the punishment, but have no sense of shame.

Sakusa's eyes snap open. "Slow, slow down!" he urges between his moans. "I'm gonna—"

You pull away while your hands still rub his heavy, swollen balls. A glistening thread connects from your lips to him. The ache from the edge without release punishes him for pushing you away. But he can't dirty you further, emptying himself into your mouth like a chamber pot. Your eyes grin and you show him a teasing smile, that he can't fully process, before dipping down again, taking his length as much as you can, until the tip prods against the back of your throat, rubbing against the flesh folds inside. The patch of his dark curls presses into your nose, filling it with the heavy scent of Kiyoomi. Only a few moments later, Sakusa trembles, knees jerking as his hips buck into your mouth, cock twitching out spurts.

Sakusa scrambles to sit up in fright, fighting against his dizziness and heavy body. He grabs the pile of fabrics next to him. "Spit it out," he orders, holding the bundle next to your puffy, cum-filled cheeks.

Kiyoomi-gege's cum is so thick, you think as you swallow the sticky load down in two gulps. The slightly bitter and salty taste lingers on your tongue and breath as you open your mouth to show him. "Gege, you taste so good," you chirp happily running a finger down your chest to your belly. "W-Want more. I want all of you, Kiyoomi."

Sakusa's vision is still blurry, blood pumping furiously in his veins. He's not sure how the wine can still be having an effect like this. It feels even more potent after a taste of release, his balls feel heavy and hot once again. He struggles to tear his eyes away from your body—naked, except for the silk covering over your front, that is doing little to hide your nipples poking through the intricate embroidery.

"You must want to ask me, how I know about the bedchamber," you begin while reaching for the ties behind your neck and tugging the knot loose. "It was just an accident at first." The fabric slips down to reveal your breasts. "I found Jade and Amethyst giggling in the corner of the back storage one day. They were reading a book they found in my dowry chest."

You were aware of activities behind the bedchamber curtains, but before that day, you didn't know the intricacies behind such acts. One glance at the forbidden book, the twisted limbs, and exposed skin made your face burn. The book was meant to help you learn how to please your husband on your wedding night and henceforth. An experienced maid would have instructed you the day before, teaching you the points of pleasure, and all of the lewd positions that would ensure you birth him a healthy son.

You would come to know of it anyway, but it wasn't supposed to be that day. It was a crime for lowly maids to touch their lady's dowry, much less sully a pure maiden's eyes with such material prematurely. Jade and Amethyst begged and sobbed for you not to turn them over to Mother. You hid the book in your sleeve and told them to dry their tears. You told them that you wouldn't turn them in under a single condition. Bring me more of these. I want the ones that the Flowers read.

It was embarrassing at first, seeing the lines forming that of a man. The shape stuck out so obnoxiously and almost seemed frightening. But you grew curious and wondered if Sakusa, your Kiyoomi, would look like the crude model on the page or something more. Kiyoomi was beautiful. You saw that he was; the fifth tile in the bathhouse had a hole. He was mysterious, covered by the curtains of steam like a god, but you saw him.

You muffled your cries into your pillow and stuffed a handkerchief into your mouth as your body twitched and shook under the covers. In all of your thoughts: Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi, with his smooth skin dotted with constellations and the shape of his erection fitting into all of your hunger.

"I dream of you," you whisper to Sakusa, climbing on top of him, body bare and complete. Sakusa inhales sharply. The curves from your neck down to the nipples, perked and erect, sear into his mind even with his eyes closed. He can't recall anything the Master had said after all. What about virtue and piety and morals? At this point, does he deserve to?

"Look how much I pine for you. My body..." You grasp Sakusa's hand and press the large palm over your breast. "Earlier, you touched me over fabric, but it feels so much better when it's your skin on mine." Sakusa doesn't fight off your grip, too weak to move. Your identity is muddled in his head. Your name and Spring Plum's twist into confusion. What is correct? What is not? He can't recall any books that have taught him what to do.

He falls into darkness for a moment and wakes up to aching desires burning through his body. His fingers are dragged down your navel. They slip under and it's a puddle of wet. You squirm and rub your sensitive bud onto his thick, trembling fingers. "You know? You know? When I close my eyes? It's you."

You caress his cheeks, hot breath laced blowing onto his face. "I want you so badly." I want to be the woman by your side, to make you happy, give you a son. "I know it's impossible, but just for tonight." Pretend that I am Spring Plum instead, if you must.

Your lips press onto his, roaming into his softness; dipping your tongue in, the shared osmanthus sweetness mix. Just tonight, you savor.

With knees straddling his hips, you line your wet folds against his throbbing member. Your eyes flicker with anticipation from his glazed eyes and flushed face to the point of union. Arousal dripping from your sex coats his tip as you sink yourself down. Your short pants mix with his shuddering breaths. "Kiyo-omi," you whine, pressing closer. "S-So big—"

Sakusa grunts loudly, face twisting at how impossibly tight you feel around him. He's so sensitive with you continuously squeezing around him with every breath. He glances feverishly at your scrunched face, eyes shut and focused on taking all of him into your body, trying hard and desperate.

"Ooh!" You feel hands gripping onto the soft rounds of your buttocks and squeal in surprise, jolting around and suddenly Sakusa's completely bottomed into you. "Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi," you whisper shakily. Your body trembles as you wait out the stinging stretch. "I'm...I'm not your bride. But—" you feel so happy "—let me, let me show you..."

Your hands rest on Sakusa's stomach as you raise your hips and sink down again. Slowly, you ride him, movements bolder and falling into a steady rhythm. Your hips roll against his, breast bouncing in view.

The temptation of warm paradise lulls him away. Sakusa's mind falls blank, forgetting his books, abandoning his teachings, forsaking the family name. His fingers grab at your soft thighs. His unrestrained moans are a higher register than his speaking tone, you find, freely falling and open. It encourages you to grind harder and chase those pretty sounds that reward you. You can feel him against your tight walls, prodding deep within. Your mewls answer back to him.

The candles in the room burn out completely, unattended wax dripping and hardening over the bronze holsters. Books are tossed and folded across the floor, scrolls unraveled and scattered. Hardly any semblance of virtue remains evident in the scholarly space belonging to the heir of this upright family. Heavy pants and wet squelches of smacking skin mock the rest of the room. Only the wooden door, latticed and covered with rice paper, guard the twisting of two bodies from the sacred courtyard...Hiding all noises of sin and immorality from the empty ancestral halls.

You take Sakusa's hand and guide it to your clit, squealing when his thumb brushes against the nub. "T-To pleasure your bride, you should...touch her here. Ah- yes! Kiyoomi, m-more!"

Sakusa falls drunk on how your pussy flutters around him and the string of moans sweetly begging his name each time he rubs your clit.

He's drunk. He's mad.

"K-Kiyoomi! I'm cumming—" you cry out, collapsing on top of Sakusa, arms encircling him tightly. Shudders wash through. Your pussy tightly squeezes around him. Sakusa's vision flashes white, arms wrapping your body flush over his. Ceaseless whimpers sound next to your ear.

"P-Please. Please. I—" He trembles, quivering as his release shoots into you uncontrollably.

And then it's quiet. Save for the heavy breaths that are exchanged between you and him. When you come down from your high, vision clearing in the dark, you notice that Sakusa has fallen straight into sleep. You lay across his chest, breasts pressed up against him.

His cock is still resting within you, keeping his essence safely plugged. You hold him there. Sakusa's long lashes fan down between his eyelids. His features, the most beautiful you have ever seen. You admire how his pretty hair is spread out on the bed in long, dark tresses and tuck your head comfortably in the space between his head and shoulder. Sakusa often wears his neatly combed and tied up in a gentleman's topknot. Only during the rare nights and mornings when Sakusa's in his privacy, does he allow them to rest completely free. You comb your fingers through the silky texture, fine curls softly falling in cascades.

Within his arms, even if by your design, you sleep as one.

As dawn approaches, the sun washes over the grey tiles covering the curved rooftops of a righteous and proud household. Servants scurry about in the early hours finishing the preparation for the most important event. Under sunlight, the red silk flowers and banners decorating the courtyards glow brighter than a virgin's first blood. A maid knocks on a closed, latticed door.

"Young Master, it's Emerald. The Madame asked me to assist you to wash up."

She hears nothing granting her permission to enter and knocks again. Still silence.

The maid carefully balances the bronze basin filled with water on her hip. "Young Master, it's Emerald. Please excuse me," she says while pushing open the door. She's attentive to step over the high, wooden doorstep.

The room's messy status comes as an initial shock, but her hold on the basin remains steadfast. It's unheard of for the young master to ever leave his room in this state, although it's nothing a careful cleaning can't fix. She walks further into the room where Sakusa's bed is, keeping her head low in deference.

"Young Master Sakusa. Please pardon my intrusion." Her voice is proper and demure. "The Madame asked me to assist."

Still answered with silence at the bed, Emerald cautiously glances up, gaze meeting your eyes. She gasps, both hands clamping over her mouth to muffle her surprise. The basin clambers onto the floor, spilling water everywhere.

You smile coyly at her, pressing a finger over your lips in a hush. Don't ask, don't tell. You're still bare, limbs twisted with Sakusa Kiyoomi. Sakusa Kiyoomi, who's the grandson of the late Grand Chancellor of this dynasty, sole heir of this moral and upright family. Your brother, and today's groom.

"Mikey!" you yell, rushing into the room, ignoring the shattered glass on the ground that threatens to pierce your bare feet. You kneel down in front of Mikey's hunched figure and clutch the bloody wrist where he had clawed deep marks into.

"Mikey-nii, that's enough," you choke out, feeling the red liquid oozing onto your hand. "Please don't hurt yourself. Shinichro-nii is gone, Izana-nii is gone...Emma-neechan is gone too."

"Shinichiro-nii is at the shop...." he mumbles to himself. "Izana is still...Emma...Emma is Emma is..."

"They're all gone! It's been years already! Please, Mikey-nii, I can't lose you too."

Mikey's shoulder begins to tremble, his breaths shaky and wheezing. His eyes are glazed over, bloodshot, as another roar rips through his throat. He breaks from your grasp and suddenly stands up, glaring at your crumbled figure at his feet.

"Mikey? Nii-chan..ahh..." Hands clasp around your throat, forcing you to stand with the grip. "It's me..." Your little sister. The only family you have left, Mikey-niichan.

The air is thick and heavy with sweet smoke. He shoves you onto the mattress, the impact against the dusty pillows knocking the wind out from you. Your cough disturbs the grey wisps that are floating through the dark space.

"What are you," you ask, half-sitting up on the bed, dizzy from the inhaled chemicals rushing to fill your brain. You see your brother shirtless, blood still trailing down his arm, coming closer, closer. He's on top of you, eyes blank, pupils dilated, a hand tilting your chin towards him.

"Mikey-nii?" you ask, soft lips parted and inviting.

Your relaxation suddenly erupts into a wild urgency. Your whole body convulses at the lips pressed on yours and the tongue that forced its ways into your mouth. Mikey tastes bitter, he tastes sweet. All of his anger, his grief, and desperation.

He grabs you tightly, hands pulling the loose buttons of your nightgown apart. Your legs kick out in vain under the heavy body pressing on top. Each futile struggle only gives him more access to expose your skin under his fingertips.

"Don't fight me, baby sister. I only have you now." Mikey suckles on your bottom lips, muttering, "You only have me now. They're all dead..."

His knee forces your legs apart. His hands gripping your wrists together over your head. Your violent headshakes and sobs for him to stop are unheard. Cries for your brother to come back to his senses melt into translucent silk threads pulling him closer, beckoning him to entangle himself in your fragrance and warmth.

"No! Please! No! No!" Tears stream down your face as you cry out when Mikey's cock pushes into your pussy, tearing through you. He bottoms out in a groan while you tremble and shiver from the intrusion. Then he begins to rock his hips in and out messily, heavy pants blowing on the shell of your ear.

The squeaks of the mattress frame and clap of skin against skin sound in the room filled with powders and smoke. The ceiling spins, your throat becoming itchy and dry. Thirst overcomes your body and you float weightless.

Your fights to push him off break apart. Efforts to call back reason to your brother who looks lost and mad fade into seductive mewls. Each time he presses your g-spot, hips grinding against yours, your sobs morph into moans.

"Nngg—n-no. Niichan, no—ahh—"

The dirty euphoria that is building suddenly stops. Mikey pauses, his cock still completely buried within your tight walls. You almost think that this nightmare will end now, because your big brother is finally back. It's just a mistake, a slip-up in search of comfort. You'll forget it, he'll move on, and none of this will have happened.

Suddenly Mikey smiles, a quiet snort slipping out of his mouth. A frown appears on his face. "Don't you want them back? Shinichiro...Izana...Emma...Shinichiro...Izana..Emma..."

You shake your head softly. "No, Mikey-nii. They're dead already...they can't come back..."

"They'll come back. I'll bring them back," he snarls, eyes glaring at your frightened form under him. A crazed expression locks eyes with your lost, pleading one. He chuckles, smearing the remnants of the blood on his wrist over your cheeks, delighting at the new tears prickling at your waterline. It's so precious, so beautiful, and pure.

"Mikey-nii, please..."

Claws snatch your throat, squeezing tighter than ever. Your hands fly down to pull on the grip.

"I WANT THEM BACK! GIVE. THEM. BACK. TO. ME!" Mikey bellows, shaking your head into the pillows. Your choking wheezes are swallowed completely by his shouts. He pounds into you, ramming his cock against your g-spot over and over again. Your cheeks burn, needles shooting through your head. The dark seems to fade into a fuzzy glitter. He fucks you mad in anger, completely possessed by the devils of grief, sprinting in rage until he claps himself balls deep against you and spurts his cum to coat your walls.

Two heaving breaths sound in the dark. The air is musky with sex and salty with tears. But the demon is exorcised, leaving only the quiet aftermath of bodies fitted together.

"G-Give them back," Mikey croaks out, cradling your face between his palms. He presses a kiss along your jaw. "We'll get them back..."

Your weak breathy cries and broken rasps echo softly next to Mikey's ears, body still twitching from being defiled and abused. You can feel a thick fluid leaking out from your hole and wet drops on your collarbone. The trail of tears that flowed out from your eyes are now two dried streaks. Mikey groans, tongue slipping out the lick the salty marks. You would answer him, if you can still answer coherently at all. Unable to get an answer from you, high washing over him, Mikey relaxes over your body, head tucked between your neck and shoulder.

When I die, baby sister, will you cry for me too?

"Legally speaking, sure. But you'll always be my little brother though," you say light-hearted, reaching with the other hand to give his hair a ruffle. Your hands barely run through his hair when Kageyama grabs that wrist too, cuffing both of them in his hold. “What can you do.”

"Today, I protected you." 

"That you did, Tobio. And I'm still sorry that you got hurt." Your try to roll the conversation along and get back to the point. "So let's get you fixed up.”

"For all your smarts, onee-san, you're so stupid," Kageyama mumbles before tugging on your wrists to pull you forward and capture your lips with his. So stupid, he thinks, that you didn’t even realize that guy was trying to make dangerous moves on you.

You eyes widen at the presence on your lips belonging to the boy who used to rub his snot and cry when he scrapes his knee. It's not right. You twist your head to the side and leave the profile of your hair in Kageyama's face, the residual metallic taste of his blood burning on your tongue. "What are you doing?!" you hiss. "Are you crazy?"

"Yea, I am. I'm so fucking crazy about you. You have no idea, onee-san.”

You stare at him in disbelief, letting his words soak in. Your eyes dart between his fixated gaze and lips that are smudged with your lipstick. He senses your eyes are drifting, cups your face, and dips close again. Your breath comes out in soft, shaky puffs. Kageyama can still taste the lingering burn of alcohol on his tongue, but feels your body relax against his and accept his touches. His large hands gripping your wrist loosens and rests on your waist.

You feel his tongue lick a stripe up your neck and suckle on the flesh as he trails down towards your collarbone. The tiny noises from you don’t escape Kageyama’s ears as his movements becoming messy and rough. He scoops from under, hoisting you up so your legs are around his hips. You yelp, feeling a sharp pain shoot through your foot and knee. The loud sound of impact against ceramic and your “Ow!” sounding in the bathroom.

You wrap your arms around Kageyama’s neck tightly as he stumbles to your bed. He throws you down onto the mattress then pulls his shirt over his head in a swift motion. You take a few deep breaths and inhale the smell of your freshly laundered sheets. A few belt clicks later, you find Kageyama kneeling at the end of the bed, about to stalk over.

“Hmph,” you frown, poking a throbbing toe at his forehead. “Tobio. You have to be gentler when you’re with a woman. See?” You wiggle your toe slightly to make a point. “Because you’re so rough.”

A look of revelation overcomes Kageyama’s face, the same way he suddenly realizes the secret to an incredible volleyball technique. He cradles your foot, a hand supporting the arch and the other brushing over your toes. 

You look confused at his movements and try to pull your foot away. "What are you-ngh—"

Kageyama brushes his lips across the pads, dragging them over the small ridges of each toe before kissing the spot where the pain is pulsating. His tongue darts out to lick the skin, increasingly confident and assertive, sucking and swirling around each of the toes.

"Tobio, it's dirty, Tobio!" you cry out in embarassment, arms crossed over your face to hide your burning cheeks. None of your squirms can stop his fixation. 

"Not hurting anymore right?" he suggests, a hand beginning to knead the another sore spot right next to the kneecap. "I'm sorry, I wasn't careful enough.” He kisses the spot. “I'll be gentle, onee-san. I didn't know you were this fragile."

Kageyama reminds himself, with every little movement he makes, to be gentle, gentle, and even gentler. Light touches, careful touches. He doesn’t want you to think that he can’t do a good job, that this is just a sloppy, juvenile joke. But it’s so damn difficult!

The ripples of the bedsheets under you are like a watery sea where you are a siren. The soft moans that come out of your lips when your legs stretch out on the bunching fabric, the way your head turns on the pillow and you look at him through your blown pupils...Upon the first glance at your body, breasts bare under his eyes, nipples pebbled, Kageyama thinks he’s about to lose it. He almost can’t let his eyes wander further down beyond your navel out of fear he’ll spurt immediately.

It’s your hands that tug on his, quiet chuckles vibrating, and you ask him, “Ah, Tobio-kun, are you shy now?”

Kageyama’s face grows dark at the challenge. “Tch. I will make you regret saying that.” His large hands pushes your thighs open and he laughs at the sight of your drenched pussy. “Onee-san, you’re so lewd,” he comments before pressing his fingers onto your clit, stroking the bud while holding your squirming hips down firmly. “I think I’m done being gentle now. See, you’re more than ready for my cock.”

“Wait, Tobio, I—” You gasp, feeling Kageyama’s cock press into the entrance of your pussy, sinking deeper and deeper into your muscles. You feel the stretch of your body wrapping around him. “Go slowly!”

“Shit,” Kageyama mutters, clamping his fingers down on your flesh and bottoms himself into you completely. He groans, focusing his senses on how tight and real you feel around him. Not the makeshift grip of calloused fingers, not any random cunts. The thought makes his knees weak.

Kageyama shoves your legs up until your knees are pressed near your chin, calves resting over his broad shoulders. His fingers dig into your soft flesh as he begins to rock into you. Each time, he bottoms out with a wet squelch, balls slapping against your ass in soft thuds.

Kageyama fucks you mercilessly, all semblance of his thoughts to be gentle completly swept out by his feral desires.

 “No more, no more..ah—I can’t!” you cry out.

It only encourages Kageyama further as he further tunnels into chasing his pleasure with every crying moan when you are pushed into the sheets, pounded into the mattress by his weight and strength. You can feel fast building warmth in your belly growing intensely, nearing eruption.

“No, no, no stop! Tobio!” you warn him, nails digging into his scalp and back. “I’ll make a mess...the sheets, I just—”

Kageyama doesn’t stop. His rough hands find your clit again, furiously tapping and rubbing the sensitive bud. You tremble and jerk around under the onslaught of sensations that shock your body.

"I'll do the chores...wash the sheets again. J-Just. Come.” 

As though on command, the moment the syllables fall from Kageyama’s lips, you completely unfurl in a sob, orgasm crashing through your body as you spray all over him and soak the entire bedding with your piss.

Your heavy breaths press your breasts against Kageyama’s chest while his cock is still resting in you. The sheets are drenched. You can feel the wetness against your ass as more mixed fluids leak out from your pussy.

“T-Tobio,” you pant out, completely exhausted.

Kageyama is extremely pleased with how you look. He leans into your hand smoothing out the dark hair that is matted aginst his forehead in sweat. After basking against you a while, cuddling between the smell of sweat, sex, and piss, Kageyama rolls off and gets up from the bed.

Your eyes follow his perfectly chiseled body, landing on the angry red marks from your scratches. Kageyama turns back to you and flashes a wolfish grin. “Onee-san, you’re the wild one. Take responsibility.”

Your tender look immediately morphs into a disgusted frown.

Kageyama chuckles and picks you up from the dirty sheets, gently carrying you over to the bathroom. He’s careful around turns and doorways, paying attention so your feet or shoulders don’t knock into anything. So, he does learn, you think to yourself, relaxing against his chest.