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people who donât have boops on, I respect your peace but also picture me standing outside your blog scratching the door like a cat wanting to be let in
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đđđđđđđđđ, đđđđđđđđ, đđđ đđđđđđđđđđ .đ„ Ę Ë â§
đđđđđđđđ. fem!Reader, bastard!Sukuna, historial AU - regency era, somewhat enemies to lovers, banter, ballroom dancing, eventual smut [MDNI], table sĂ©x, exhibitiönism, semi-public sĂ©x, nÄ«pple play, fÄ«ngering, loss of vÄ«rginity, jealousy, carriage sĂ©x, riding, pörn w/ plot
đđđđ đđđđđ. nearly 16k (yikes)
đđđđđđ'đ đđđđ. sighhhhhh, this took way too long, but im a nerd for jane austen novels and the regency period, so im going to make you a nerd for it, too. available on ao3
âIt is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.â â Pride & Prejudice
Whether you liked it or notâor, well, that didnât matter, really; you had no choiceâyou had connections. Plenty of them.Â
You were the firstborn and only child to a renowned lawyer and his wifeâwhom you called your parents. Your birth was one of necessity, not out of love and want. Most of your mother and fatherâs siblings constantly pressured them into conceivingâin order to extend the bloodline, they explainedâand so they were coerced into a sense of rushing and urgency. This, however, didnât diminish any of their affection towards you; you were, after all, their only child, their eldest child, and their most beloved child.
âWealthyâ was quite the understatement when it came to describing your family tree. You were rich in prosperity and success, physically and mentally. Your parents cherished you as their only offspring, gave you only the finest governess, and treated you as more of an equal than a baby. That proved not a problemâseeing as how vast your then and current knowledge was compared to those of average salary.
Being an only child may have been quite out of the ordinary in the present times, but the number of relatives you had was abundant enough that you often felt it was really the opposite.
Your grandparents seemed to have a lot of fun back then, because, each of your parents had at least five siblings, which resulted in a little more than ten aunts and uncles when grouped together. This was, however, not as jolly as it may seem. Your aunts and uncles were all old, had even more children than your grandparents, and loved, loved, loved, critiquing others. They tipped their hats at you when greeting, kissed your cheeks and the backs of your hands, but, regardless, they never failed to mention at least one of your faults and flaws.
In addition to this, you had cousins galore. On your motherâs side was a bit fewer than thirty, while your fatherâs side consisted of two and twenty. It may be a given, it may be not, but you werenât as close with your cousins as most would normally be. Sending and receiving letters was seldom exchanged, and meeting at balls and dinners was probably the only times you ever conversed with a cousin or two. Well, except for Charlotte and Helena.
Where could you even begin when describing those two? you often laughed.
They were twins, and would look exactly the same if it wasnât for the fact that Charlotte had blonde curls that she frequently let down, while Helena often wore a brunette updo atop her head. Since birth, they had been inseparable, and most people usually referred to them as a pair, saying things such as Where are the girls? or Are the girls attending? It was great, really. In truthâconcise, and full truthâyou loved the girls just as if they were your own sisters; and, sometimes it seemed that way.
You three always read together when the men went shooting birds, gossiped about the townspeople, and often matched your dresses, ribbons, and gloves to each other at balls and other gatherings of the like. Maybe it was due to your compatibility, but if you had to call anyone your best friend, it would have to be the girls.
They were both two years your juniors, but it was a commonly known fact that Charlotte was as intelligent as someone ten years your senior. She pored over literature all day, bent over desks examining records, and was always the one to come to when in need of rational advice. Helena, on the other hand, was a bright girl, but she certainly wasnât a scholar; her strong suit was her humor and charm. She made acquaintances like no other, and had an almost endless amount of suitors and beaus asking for her hand.Â
But, if that wasnât the case, she would definitely still have an equal amount of friends. Maybe even the whole population of Wadsworth, if Helena wanted. But, really, that would not be much wanted.
The men and women of Wadsworth were numerous, but they were all prickly in their own ways. You often liked to joke that the countryside of Wadsworth was really just one big rose bush; most people were thorns in the sides, while, if you looked deep, there were plenty of roses, as well. Now, you didnât hate attending balls, per se, but, the main reason keeping you away was that the men knew not how to dance at all, tripped over othersâ feet and shoes, and their vocabularyâoh, lord, their vocabulary. It would be much pleasanter if you didnât even begin on that topic.
Wadsworth was not smallâbig enough to fit everyone without being too congestedâand it laid up north, where the weather was nice all of twelve-month. The grass was always green, and healthy, and the hefty trees provided shade that was more than needed. It was beautiful, absolutely beautiful, and if it wasnât the people that lured in tourists, it would have to be the scenery and landscaping.
Aside from the actual land, the properties, the estates, and the manors were all also a sight to behold. Wealthy were your neighbors, and your aunts, and your uncles, and the other ladies and the other sirs. Abodes were more grand than notâall at least two storiesâhad beautiful shrubbery and quite talented gardeners, large windows, and ornate carriages.
The people who filled these properties all had a profuse liking to dancing, and balls were held most frequently. Sometimes at Stratford Houseâwhere the girls resided, sometimes at Grantley Hallâthe home of another aunt you had, and sometimes somewhere else. You, however, resided in Blackwood Park with your mother and father. It was a luxurious abode; your governess was as knowledgeable as can be, and the staff were all as kind-hearted as to be expected. You had bookshelves all to yourself, and read to your heartâs content whenever you felt the need to decline an invitation to a social gathering.
Prosperousâwas your life.
In the middle of drinking teaâanother activity you took up with your cousinsâa commotion started up in the streets outside.Â
All ladies of the town were absolutely, or, at least, nearly under a spell, as they all scrambled to their windows at the sound of hooves and neighing; they went to great lengths such as even peeking behind shutters and curtains, just to attempt even merely a glimpse at the two wealthyâand, if you did say yourself, dashingly dressedâgentlemen that had arrived on their grand steeds; of all their grandeur were individual breeds of andalusian and shire.Â
It was, without a doubt, quite the sight to behold on a previously seemingly ordinary Tuesday morning. And, you werenât at all surprised at the idea of any of your family screaming at the chance of possible suitors for either you or their children.
âOh my!â gasped Helena, as she set down her tea cup, and hurried to look through the windows of Blackwood. âPray, do you think the gentlemen are married?â
âI would think so,â sighed Charlotte; âany person who looks like that ought to have ladies lining up at his door, wouldnât you agree it is so?âÂ
The blonde turned to you with an expectant look on her face, and you hesitated for an answer. âIf they are as handsome as they are dressed, then, maybe. I have not a good look at their faces from this angle.â
âOh, dear cousin!â cried the girls simultaneously. They wereâif you could even call it that wayâheavily dejected at the sound of your declaration. It was rational, though, and thatâs why they were so clearly affected; if the men were both handsome and wealthy, it was highly plausible that they were with wives, and any possibility of either of the girls being able to flirt with the gentlemen was thus thrown out of the window.
Laughing, you tried your best to console the girls, and patted each of them on the head, before making your way towards the nearest window. This change gave you a way better opportunity to see the men than you had previously thought. Yes, there were two of them, and yes, they were both as handsome as they were dressedâthough you would never admit such a thing aloud.
Because they were both on their horses, you could not see who was taller, but you knew that the distinction between them both was crystal clear; their heads were both full of unnaturally colored hair.
There was one gentleman with hair white as snow, and eyes blue as the vast sea; he wore expensive, lavish clothing, and held himself up with confident poiseâmuch like a prince would. The other gentleman had pink, rosy hair, that was of a ruly styleâmaybe it was unbrushed, you thought. But the first thing you noticed about him was the evident scowl on his face; he looked like the embodiment of a thunderstorm. Beautiful, but formidable.
Subconsciously, throughout your admiring of the wealthy men, you had been pushing the curtains back inch by inch, until, the white-haired man had seemingly taken notice of your observing, and looked up at your figure with an amused expression, before turning to his friend and pointing at you. With a surprised squeak, you pulled back the curtains and hid yourself before the gentlemen could get another look at you (or so you hoped).
âWhy on earth did you close the curtains?â the girls cried, again, after noticingâthrough their miseryâthat the sight of the men was gone. âJust because they may be possibly married does not mean we cannot admire them all the same.â
âYou think so?â you laughed.
âWell, certainly!â nodded Helena, profusely. âWe could always just stand in corners of rooms, silently admiring their countenances. Arenât I correct, sister?â
Charlotte turned to you with an optimistic smile. âWhy, yes, you are! You must know, cousin, we are perfectly capable of keeping our mouths shut of flirtatious compliments when we are near married men. You must know.â
âWhat a nice thing to know, Lottie. But, we have yet to confirm whether the gentlemen are married or notââ
âOh! bless me! I truly mustâve forgotten that part,â Helena said, as she squealed and kicked her legs back and forth. She was over the moon at hearing theâstill unconfirmedâpossibility that the men might be single. âCharlotte, sister, can you believe it? Either one or the both of us may be married by next spring!â
âOh, cousin,â cried Charlotte, as she took your hands into her own, âthis is such a wonderful Tuesday morningââ
In the middle of her exclamations of joy, Charlotte was interrupted by the calling of your maid-servant, who announced there was company at the door. Now, you were just seconds away from being informed of who it was, but the girls just couldnât contain their anticipation, and before your maid-servant could get but another word out, the twins were flying down the stairs with high and hopeful spiritsâthe tea party completely forgotten.
âWho, in heavenâs name, could it be?â wondered Helena, as she took you by the arm and dragged the both of you downstairs.
âIt must, indubitably, be the fine gentlemen,â declared Charlotte. âHow could it not?â
But, upon opening the doors, it was indubitably not the fine gentlemen.
Your auntâLady Annesley; not to be mistaken as the mother of the girlsâwas standing outside Blackwood Park. She was widowed six or seven years ago, you couldnât exactly recall the date; and she resided in a quite grand abode, called the Grantley Hall. She appeared with an anxious look on her face; but after seeing you open the doors, she hurried herself inside with a jolly, merry laugh.
âOh, girls! All three of you! I have such wonderful news, such wonderful news, indeed.â She kissed each and every one of you on the cheek, and gathered you all into a tight hug; because she was a touchy person like that, but also because she had not seen one of your faces since her temporary departure to Brighton.
âOh, Lady Annesley!â exclaimed Helena. âDo tell us about your vacation and trip. Did you see any officers and soldiers there?â
âHow about the views? Were the waters and beaches pristine?â Charlotte chipped in.
âOh, yes!â Lady Annesley simultaneously laughed and nodded like a mad woman. âYes, yes, yes! My word, it was absolutely lovely, and the weather was just extraordinary; I shall certainly take you all there one day, but . . . that is not important in the present time. You know, Helena, I did make some rather pleasant acquaintances with some Admirals and Lieutenants while at the seashore, and Iâve come with some extra company.â
You raised a brow, intrigued. âAre you to remarry?â
Gasps erupted from the lady and the blonde.
âNonsense. Why, in heavenâs name, would I do that? No, no, the company is not that. You see, girls, the soldiers and officers that I had such a miraculous opportunity to befriend in Brighton have come back with me. Their military regiment is temporarily stationed here in Wadsworth! Can you believe that? When I was informed by Admiral Dawson, I was rendered speechless for a few minutes, you must know. But, ah, that is long forgotten now.
âThere must be a ball hosted soon. It shall be at Grantley, I suppose, but a few arrangements will have to be taken care of before then.â Lady Annesley began to quietly murmur to herself afterwards, droning on about plans required to host a proper ball for so many residents of Wadsworth in addition to the many officers and soldiers.
The girls turned to face you with ecstatic expressions as your aunt fell into a subconscious silence.
âIsnât this just a wonderful Tuesday morning?â asked Helena. âSo many possibly unmarried men to gawk at and admire. How do you reckon, cousin, do you think men hardened by weather and work will be more handsome than gentlemen? I am quite curious, I must say.â
Charlotte answered for you. âIâm not even sure we would know. Here in Wadsworth, weâve never seen any men of rank and occupation as of theirs, have we?â
The three of you shook your heads, shrugged, and wonderedâany thought of the wealthy gentlemen was gone, and forgotten about, as Helena walked off to prepare a dress and fan for the ball, Charlotte stayed behind with Lady Annesley to speak about the scenery during her vacation, and you strode off to drink from your previously abandoned tea cup and continue eating the little French biscuits that the girls had brought along.
It was a pleasantly spent Tuesday morning, indeed. However, not much of the same could be said about the next.
You had not been an hour awake until your cousins had barged into your bedroom, and squealed and giggled as they jumped and danced around your room, exclaiming words and nonsense that your morning fog prevented understanding of.
âOh, cousin! Do you not know? Today will perhaps be the most amazing night of our lives! Just picture it,â Helena began, pulling you out of bed and forcing you to dance with her, âa whole regiment of soldiers and officers will soon be filling Grantley Hall. The chances of any one of us being able to dance with them is highly likely, is it not? Oh! this is wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!â
âHelena, justâjust wait a minute,â you said, pausing before Helena could waltz with you any more, âI have not even gotten dressed for breakfast. And the ball isnât until evening. What are you and Charlotte so excited for? Many hours to come before the âmost amazing nightâ of our lives, you know.â
âSister,â sighed Helena, as she turned to Charlotte, âyou must certainly explain to our dearest cousin.â
Charlotte nodded. âMany hours to come are many hours to prepare. We must prepare our gowns, fans, bonnets, gloves. And, Helena, before I forget, what are we here for in the first place? to practice dancing, of course. Cousin, Iâll have you know, there is absolutely no chance I am letting you stay huddled at the pianoforte the whole night.
âAlthough your playing is much beloved, and appreciated, I am almost certain there will be others providing their services at the instrument. Whether you like it or not, I am forcing you to dance. If you do not waltz with any men, you will waltz with me or Helena or Lady Annesley.
âAt your age of six and twenty, people worry you will end up celibate, you know.â
You hid a faint smile behind your hand. âIs this your way of looking out for me, then?â
The girls laughed, full of cheer.
Fortunately for the twinsâwho did not leave your side once throughoutâboth the morning and the afternoon had passed by with a considerable amount of speed. You three had acquired sufficient gowns for the coming evening, and had spent some time finishing up hair and obtaining jewelry and other essential cosmetics.
It had taken the strength and power of both the girlsâwith the additional help of Lady Annesleyâto be able to force you out the doors of Blackwood Park, and consequently, shove you into the carriage parked outside.Â
In all honesty, you werenât in the particular mood to go to a ball, but when your aunt has her mind set on making acquaintances, she will not let go. She often said, Oh, dear niece, think of the men you can meet! or, So many handsome men of great fortunes, or, Rough, calloused, tall; is there anything better? and other similar sayings. It certainly did not help, at all, that Charlotte and Helena only encouraged your aunt.
A husband was never one of your top priorities; dying a single woman was not as unfortunate for you as it would be for other women. You had money, you had wealth, you had prosperity. Some people wed simply for gaining rank and title, carriages and clothes, and estates and property. But you had absolutely no need for any of that. And thatâs why, as you walked into Grantley Hallâafter what was perhaps the longest, most boring carriage ride of your lifeâyou did not look to see who was handsome, or agreeable, or most rich.Â
Instead, you looked for a chance to sit down, or, even, scurry awayâfrom your companions, before they could force you to converse with some puny men, or rekindle your relationships with your many, many aunts and uncles.
Despite yourself, you couldnât help your eye wandering about the property; and only then, did you notice just how many new people were in Wadsworth at this time of year. Just as your aunt had said; there were officers, soldiers, other members of militia, captains, and men of ranks you could not and did not care to recognize.
Although you werenât as crazy as Helena and Charlotteâwhom you assumed were probably in some corner, certainly already flirting with the single men they managed to find, and blushing and obsessing as wildly as lunaticsâyou also werenât as prejudiced to say everyone was of absolutely terrible breeding. You saw some handsome faces, you saw some . . . not handsome faces, but, even with all this, you werenât intrigued. No, not even in the slightest bit.
In an act of rebellion against your âkidnappers,â you were en route to the pianoforte, when you heard a voice call for you, and saw a figure stop in the middle of your way.
âGood evening, miss,â came the callâfrom an officer, you assumed. âPardon my intrusion, for I am simply tempted to make an acquaintance with someone of such great countenance as yours. I almost mistook you for a princess, you know.â
He was tall, had long legs, and a fit figure. His hair was dark, and so were his eyes, which were sharp, and stared back at you with emotion you could not read. Of all men you had noticed, he was, as of late, the most handsome, and by far.
A hand was given; a kiss was placed on the back of the palm; and names were exchanged. You referred to him as Mr. Wright, and, after a few minutes spent in conversation, you deemed him a quite agreeable man, whose good breeding had gone not only into physical appearance, but also into his heart. Mr. Adam Wright had opinions similar to your own, was interested in writings you read, and preferred the entertainment of pianoforte, which you played quite often.
âHow have you been liking Wadsworth, sir?â you asked, as the two of you began to make your ways to the instrument in the corner of the hall; Wright had requested to hear you play.
âVery much. Very much so, indeed. It is even more lovely than your aunt (remind me her name again, was it Lady Anne?) had previously said. Iâm quite fond of the scenery, actually.â
âOh, are you? You know, there are many paths to walk where youâll be able to see breathtaking views, I must say. But, if you dislike walking, itâs safe to say that passing by the gardens and shrubbery of most homes is quite adequate enough.â
âNo, no, there will be no need,â Wright said, shaking his head. âI find walking very enjoyable.â
You laughed. âWhat a coincidence; so do I!â
It was, about a secondâs distance away, just before you were beginning to seat yourself at the pianoforte, that you felt another presence behind you. Thinking it was just a friend of Mr. Wright that was only planning on making conversation, you turned around with a smile already on your face, but you were met with the sight of none other than your aunt, Lady Annesley, who appeared buzzy, and a bit gone. Had people already begun to drink? you wondered.
âDearest niece,â she started, placing a hand on your shoulder, âthere are two very fine gentlemen I would like for you to meet. Come along now, child,â your aunt beckoned, but as she noticed the man standing to your right, she paused for a minute, laughed, and then continued, âyou do not mind, sir? if I steal my niece away for just a moment? I assure you, there are many nice ladies in here that you can help yourself to.â
Lady Annesley waited not even a second to hear Mr. Wrightâs response before she dragged you away to another part of Grantley Hall. You occasionally stumbled over your shoes due to your auntâs unbalanced speed, and watched as the faces around you came and went in a blur whilst you traveled. Obviously, you knew prior, but you only fully realized how many people were in attendance when you caught the eyes of an old teacherâwho, to be completely honest, you had not seen since last Michaelmas.
âRight this way, my dear,â your aunt said, in a sing-song tone. âI am very eager, you know, for my darling niece to make such very acceptable acquaintances tonight. Not a chance nor a second shall be missed, and, if the gentlemen have not left and juked me, they should still be right . . . here.â
Lady Annesley had stopped so abruptly in her tracks at a corner of the room that you nearly collided with her back, but, fortunately, you did not. Your eyes lifted, and met the view of two very dashingly dressed gentlemen. Brothers, you assumed, who both had equally pink hair, and wore a pair of nearly complete opposite expressions on their faces.
The taller oneâwho you thought was the brotherâhad a fine countenance, a very fine countenance, indeed. His lips were pressed in a thin line, and truly brought out the essence of his character. He had sharp features, similarly to Mr. Adam Wright; his eyes were red as the rubies on his brooch, and he looked like the epitome of wealthy and expensive and elegant. His posture was composed, confident, and totally sure of himself; his hands were folded behind his back, and his eyebrows had a slight quirk in them as he, too, looked you over as you approached.
Your eyes then wandered over to the shorter brother, who stood to the right of the taller one. His face was a near replica of the prior, but his features were softened down, a little more dull, if you could even put it that way, and his smile was perhaps the most prominent feature on his face. The youthful countenance of his was on display, and you had no doubt that either Charlotte or Helena had already set their eyes on him. On the other hand, he looked young, very youngâyounger than you, perchance; an air of innocence was about his figure, and his eyes shone bright as day.
Sunshine, and thunder.
Oh! that is right; you knew these men, or, at least, you knew the taller one.
A corner of your lips tugged upwards as you made the remembrance. Thisâthis man, this great, wealthy man; you had seen him last week! Certainly! He was one of the two gentlemen who rode on their steeds into town, and as of late, you had received no additional information about them except for the fact that they were of extraordinarily good breeding and admirable poise.
Your hand was offered, received and accepted, and was kissed in greeting. Introductions were quickly exchanged, and you happened to learn that the taller gentleman was called Sukuna Ryomen, whilst his (confirmed to be) brother was named Yuuji. To your great surprise, and due to your auntâs nosiness, you found that the both of them were unmarried, single, and unengaged.
Originally, you had hoped that that would be the end of it, and your aunt would let you be. But, of course, the universe was not on your side this evening, and you were without the ability to leave and peacefully sit at your beloved pianoforte. Instead, you stood, in a corner of Grantley Hallâunder numerous chandeliersâas you were forced to exert yourself for the sake of âacquaintingâ your being with the two brothers, who, too, looked a bit unsettled by your auntâs coercing to continue conversation.
âPray,â you began, âis your current companion the same gentleman from when you first arrived?â
âMy brother has hair similar to what is on my own head; my previous companionâa friendâhas hair white as snow,â stated Mr. Ryomen, his tone declarative. âHave you no eyes, miss? I am quite sure you are capable of answering your own question.â
You could, obviously, make out that Yuuji was, in fact, not the same man from when Mr. Ryomen first arrived at the countryside; but, you were just simply making small talk. Was the country where the brothers came from so unaccustomed to that? you wondered.
âHave you no sociability, sir? I was not informed prior that simply making small conversation was so . . . unwanted by men like you.â
âWhat, in heavenâs name, is the meaning for this lack of cordiality, I dare ask? Bless me!â exclaimed your aunt, a look of astonishment on her face as she scolded the three of you. âWe are all here to make acquaintances, are we not? Letâs shift to another topic. Pray tell, you are here for . . . ?â
âVacation, miss,â the younger brother smiled. âWe have some friends and family living in Wadsworth, but aside from that, Sukuna is also a landowner hereâin addition to his other estates (he likes a change of scenery, every once in a while, I must add). Iâve heard how nice the weather is, and decided to visit, as well.â
âOh, yes! Most certainly!â nodded Lady Annesley. âWadsworth is a very common tourist countryside, you must know.â
âIs it?â asked the elder brother.
âHave you no ears, sir? That is what was just said; I am quite sure you are capable of answering your own question.â
âMy, is that how the ladies around here speak?â quipped Sukuna, his voice velvety, and dripping with honey as he spoke. ââTo gentlemen, as well? I may have overestimated your hospitality to newcomers, or, well, vacationers.â
âExcuse her,â your aunt interjected, nervously laughing, âsheâs. . . She caught a cold from the recent rain, Iâm afraid. Yes, of course, the rain. Isnât that right?â Lady Annesley nudged you by the elbow. âItâs the rain, isnât it?â
â. . .Indeed.â
Though your aunt occasionally gave you rebuking looks for your behavior, you had paid no effort in pretending to be engaged in conversation with the brothers. She had, with all her might, tried to erect as many topics and subjects worth speaking of as possible, but to no avail. Her spirits were deflated, and Lady Annesley had concluded that if you were going to marry one day, the chances of it being with Mr. Sukuna Ryomen were close to zero.
You two sent jeering comments and jokes towards each other as if your lives depended on it, and, in truth, you couldnât count on either of your hands how many times you rolled your eyes. You found Mr. Ryomen to be a highly disagreeable man, and, if it werenât for his indubitably large fortune and handsome countenance, you would probably call your aunt deranged for even suggesting you mingle with him. Yuuji, his brother, on the other hand, was much agreeable, and his views and prejudices were very reasonable. Of course, the same could not be said about Sukuna.
His interests were in going a-shooting, riding on his stallions, or taking vacations to his various abodes. Yes, he had multiple, and he had no humility to hide that fact; Sukunaâs pride would take up the whole of Wadsworth and more, if it had a physical form. Of course, he had reason to be full of pride: born rich, and would, eventually, die rich. Still, does it hurt so bad to be humble? You didnât waste your breath asking that question; you knew, after all, that Sukuna had no experience in that department.
âAre you staying longâin Wadsworth?â you asked, looking only at the younger brother. Ignorance was a petty way of spiting someone, you had to admit, but it was childish, and Sukuna was as childish as a child could possibly be.
âAh, that is the hope,â smiled Yuuji. âI may think of purchasing land here, you know.â
âIsnât that just wonderful to hear? I would be delighted to have someone as agreeable as you for a neighbor,â you said. âPray, does your brother live anywhere near Blackwood Park? I heard you mention him having property here, in Wadsworth.â
âI live five miles away from Blackwood,â Sukuna answered, instead, for Yuuji.
Your eyes shifted to meet red ones, and you moved your weight onto a different leg, whilst fanning yourself with your fan. âI do not recall asking you, sir.â
Sukuna scoffed. âIs it not sensible to answer on my own behalf?â
âPerhaps so. But, I find that nothing you do is sensible,â you laughed. âSo, either way, there is really no difference.â
It would be a highly plausible assumption to make by saying that Mr. Ryomen Sukuna was pampered to no end as a child, and never denied any fundamentals or trivials. If that was truly the case, then, you could have sworn you saw an unrecognizable glint flash in his ruby eyes at the sound of your constant discourtesy. Unbeknownst to you, Sukuna had, in fact, been coddled as much as you had assumed. And, just hearing his name being so mercilessly abused was already enough to intrigue him. There was, in a sense, something so alluring and bewitching about your recklessness in conversation, that Sukuna couldnât help but long for more of the hearing your insults.
Lady Annesley, on the other hand, was extremely disappointed at your behavior, and couldnât find any reasonâno matter searchingâfor your incredible disdain towards the eldest of the two gentlemen. Your ridiculous bickering and bantering would only serve in embarrassing your auntâs reputation in Wadsworth, and that was far from what Lady Annesley dreamed of. The only thing she could thank God for was that you werenât nearly as prejudiced towards Yuuji as you were to his brother.
âPray, how about we all dance, yes?â your aunt proposed, in faux cheerful spirits. âShall my niece partner with the younger gentleman?â
âOh, Iâm quite afraid that could not be made possible, miss,â said Yuuji, as he offered an apologetic expression. âMy leg is in incredible pain, and I mustâwith much embarrassmentâadmit to my having fallen once while riding here. I may have chosen to travel on quite a rowdy stallion, but it is only myself that I have to blame.â
With a politeness you could never aim towards Sukuna, you offered up your condolences, and, with a smile, proposed that the two of you sat down whilst the other attendees danced to their heartâs content. (If it wasnât obvious before, you were very desperate for any excuse to avoid dancing.) But, to your dismay, Yuuji had declined sitting down, and explained that he had a few other people he was interested in speaking with before the end of the night, and, with a well mannered farewell, bid the three of you adieu.
âWell, upon my word, your parents have done a good job raising that fellow,â added Lady Annesley, a sorry expression on her face as she watched the only other pacifist in your party walk away with an uneven gait, which further proved his excuse.
âWhether that was by the work of my parents, or a governess, or something unspoken, is debatable,â the pink-haired man remarked.
âOr, perhaps, he was merely born with the admirably civil heart he has now. That is quite rare, I must say, in this time, and among these people.â You directed that last bit towards Sukuna, and it was probably pretty clearâseeing as red eyes met yours with just as much animosity soon after your little witty comment.
At first, you were merely treating Sukuna with the same omitted amount of respect he was giving you, but now, you found yourself starting to rather enjoy bullying him. It was pointless banter, after all, and you were almost certain Sukuna felt the same way. Although you felt a sense of dislike towards the man, you couldnât help but be fond of the way he was, probably, the only other man you could banter with so lightly.
Your unconventional views and dislikes and interests often provoked strong emotion and irritation in most gentlemen, and you werenât thought to be very agreeable. But, as for the pink-haired gentleman, he took your abusing words with little to no offense. There was the occasional annoyance displayed on his features: like a little furrow of the brow, or crinkle of the nose; but it was almost humorousâseeing as a small smile usually appeared soon afterâas if he found your insults to be jokes.
After a pregnant pause, Sukuna broke the silence by saying, âDo you dance, madam?â
âWill you force me?â
âIf it cannot be helped.â
You hadnât actually thought to dance with a man like Sukuna, but upon hearing this concise exchange between her niece and hopefully future nephew-in-law, your aunt thought there was nothing better in the world than to usher the both of you to the center of Grantley Hall herself, and force you two to dance among the rest of the attendees. The orchestrated music was loudâloud enough so that little to no one could hear your protesting complaints, and Lady Annesley, smiling to herself at finally having succeeded in getting you to properly socialize, walked away in the direction of the drinks.
Looking at your auntâs back as she walked away, you sighed; all your attempts at escaping had been fruitless, futile, and done in vain. For, whilst a pianoforte played in a Ÿ time signature, you turned to face Sukuna with a sorrowful expression, but you were instead met with a contrasting smile.
âI have never danced with a lady like you before, miss,â he said, in a condescending tone, as he took your hesitant hands into his, and readied himself for a slow, smooth, elegant waltz.
Sukunaâs hands were calloused, rough, and large compared to your own; he was, certainly, a man.Â
A warmth spread throughout your body as you made contact with his skin, and it was almost electrifying, like nothing you had ever felt before. Itâs safe to say you were expecting something else, but you couldnât quite put your finger on it.
âYou must not dance very often, then. I can assure you, with no doubt, that there is not much to put me aside from others.â
The two of you began to move at a languid speed, and soon caught up to the velocity of most other dancers, though, even in such a large and crowded space, you couldnât help but feel as if it was just the two of you. The two of you dancing, the two of you talking; the two of you.
âI can name plenty of distinguishing aspects you have.â
âIs that so?â you asked.
âIndeed.â
âMy, my, my, do enlighten me, Mr. Ryomen.â
âDo you mean it is not obvious?â he asked, looking into your eyes with intent.
You responded with the shaking of your head.
âYour eyesâsomehow brighter than most. Your smileâinfectious, even to someone such as I.â Sukunaâs words were spoken with the utmost sincerity, and you could tell, from his tone, that he meant every word he said; although it surprised you to be complimented by him, you couldnât help the warmth that rose to your cheeks. âYour laughterâmelodious to even the deaf. And you, yourselfâI find you alluring.â
â. . .â
âIs your silence a sign of disbelief?â
In truth, you werenât exactly familiar with hearing such a plethora of compliments, and, since it came from someone you could never expect it from, it made you all the more embarrassed.
âI beg your pardon, sir. You find me . . . alluring?â
âIt shall be known, soon enough, that I am a man who thinks what he says. I do not say what I do not mean, miss.â
Through keeping your head down, you avoided meeting Sukunaâs eyes with all your might, but still, you could feel his penetrating gaze piercing holes through your face. Listening to the music in the background was a method you used in an attempt to calm your nerves, but all was fruitless in the end. If Sukuna had not the way of words he did now, his voice would certainly make up for it. Thick, sultry, velvety; it was absolutely ludicrous how bothered it made you, and you had to occasionally let out a cough to cover up the way you swallowed the frequent lumps in your throat.
After having settled in silence for a few counts of three, Sukuna smiled, laughing at your sudden shyness. âI have heard lots of great things about you, you must know.â
âIsâIs that so?â
âSo it is,â he nodded, before continuing; âyour auntâLady Annesley, was it?âhad briefly spoken about you, in addition to her other nieces and nephews, when she first approached me and my brother.â
At this, you laughed, finally having built up the courage to meet Sukuna in the eyes. âI am concerned about what she might have had to say.â
âAll good things, I assure you.â
You breathed out a sigh of relief you didnât know you were holding, before continuing on in casual conversation. Your banter from earlier had grown severely scarce, and was evidently replaced with subtly flirtatious comments. All the while, you found yourself growing embarrassed more than ever, but over time, you had gradually worked up a familiarity towards the compliments, and felt rather at ease whilst simultaneously talking and dancing with Mr. Ryomen Sukunaâwho appeared as cool and composed as per usual.
It was after the pianoforteâs playing had ended, that the crowd had disconnected from the partners, curtseyed and bowed to one another, and burst into applauds of plaudits. The room was lively, with its guests chatting and talking with delight at such a wonderful dance they had danced just moments prior. People took seconds to recollect themselves, by either grabbing glasses of water, or fanning themselves before the next waltz. You, on the other hand, had begun to make your way to the pianoforte, before you were stopped again (yes, again; why on earth was everyone so opposed to letting you play music nowadays?).
There was a nudge against the back of your elbow, and you turned around with much grace, just to be met with the same face from before.
âCould I trouble you for another round, miss?â came that velvety voice you loved so much.
It was Mr. Ryomen Sukuna, and he was with the objective of claiming yet another spot on your dance card this evening. How wonderful, just so, so very wonderful. . .
â. . .And just what type of round are we speaking of, sir?â
Sukunaâs countenance held the expression of mischief, and playful doing, as he leaned his face down closer to yours, till you couldnât distinguish the line between your and his breath. âWhatever youâd prefer, my fair lady.â
As a smile made its way onto your face, Sukuna did just as he had done before: gathering your warm hands into his cold ones, and bringing the both of you into another waltz just as the euphonious music began again for a second time that evening. While you could never admit it aloud, as the hours passed by, you soon found yourself forgetting all about your beloved pianoforteâthat could, as of late, be put off for maybe just a little longer.
***
âAll we did was waltzâjust like everybody else! What, in heavenâs name, is so unusual about that?â
Your cousins had called on you the next morning after the ball at Grantley, and waited not a second before askingâno, demandingâyou to tell them about all that had happened whilst they were away and mingling. (Yes, you were, in fact, correct in assuming that the girls had been acquainting themselves with officers galore and other various gentlemen that same evening.) But, despite them having a most eventful evening themselves, they were, by far, more curious as to hearing about your experience.
âYes, you waltzed,â Charlotte replied, exasperated, âwe know that; we saw it! after all. But, but, but, not only did you waltz together, you waltzed together twice! Can you believe that, Helena? A wealthyâand, if I must say, handsomeâgentleman claimed not one, but two spots on our very dear cousinâs dance card last evening!â
âIt is oh-so wonderful!â cried Helena, absolutely overjoyed at the fact you were finally socializing for once. âBut, do not forget, sister, that Mr. Ryomen Sukuna, the very man our dearest cousin danced with, also held her hands without gloves! Without gloves! Bless me! I find I shall faint if not cautious, you know.â
The girls gossiped and confabulated over yesterdayâs events with much interest and engagement. They teased you, giggled at the way you waltzed with a man right after verbally abusing him, and accepted his hand twice. It seemed that they could not and would not let it go that you had danced with such a man last evening, and it seemed the only way you could get them to leave their current attentions was to mention their events and who they danced withâto which, they were most delighted to answer you.
âShall we tell her, Lottie?â exclaimed Helena, eager to reminisce about the ball she had. âShall we tell her?â
âOf course, of course!â
And so, with that, the minds of the girls had been successfully veered over to the subject of other men. Helena recalled chatting with several young officers, all who were, as she said, âcharming, and effectively handsome, but they were, unfortunately, as taciturn as to make people assume them mute.â Helena complained about how she could only get acquainted with most officers if she was the one who spoke up first; which, in her eyes, was terribly unacceptable.
Charlotte, on the other hand, was not as extroverted as her twin sister, though, she was pretty enough so that people approached her before she had to open her mouth to anyone. She had made acquaintances with âvery fine gentlemen, very fine and intellectual gentlemen, indeed,â and laughed and chatted about poetry and philosophy almost all night long. She geeked out on her favorite authors and thinkers, and her interlocutors reciprocated with their own. It was a most enjoyable night for herâseeing as most people of Wadsworth did not find such topics in conversations as pleasant as Charlotte did.
âDid you know, cousin,â began the blonde, âthat such an abundance of officers read poetry?â
âNay, I did not, but go on.â
And go on, she did. Whenever Charlotte spoke of writing and literature, she rarely even took a breath to breathe. She was like that: always very passionate about her favorite subjects, and she was rarely able to notice if the people around her had started to bore or notâbut, it mattered not; Charlotte wouldnât have stopped talking anyway, unless, by a chance, she found herself getting thirsty. Yes, she got thirsty quite often, and you often joked (all in good nature, of course) that it was due to how much she talked.
The three of you had spent the entire morning gossiping over tea and biscuits, until a maid-servant had called you all for lunch, and you all burst into quite a harmoniously-sounding fit of laughter at the realization that, throughout your chitter chatter, you had finished neither one cup of tea, nor one plate of pastries. It was a pleasantly spent morning, indeed.
That week passed by with much ease, and the next one passed by similarly. There was even one day, where, you had been met with the fortunate coincidence of crossing paths with none other than Mr. Adam Wright whilst on your daily walk outside of Blackwood Park.
âGood day, miss,â he began, in a smooth voice, âhow do you do?â
âOh! bless me; you had me startled thereâfor a minute, Mr. Wright. But, I am very well; I thank you.â
âI beg your finest pardon, madam,â replied he, before bowing his head ever so slightly. âI did not mean to alarm you.â
You waved your hand around in a dismissing manner. âAnd, to what do I owe the honor of running into you today, sir?â
âAh, I was just admiring the views you were telling me about. You know, when we were chatting about nature and shrubbery? Yes, well, I find your suggestions to be very credible, for this is quite the place you have here, miss.â
âThank you, Mr. Wright, very generous of you to say so.â You smiled.
âNo need to thank me, I am sure you receive compliments on your home thousands upon thousands of times each day. Pray, how many acres is Blackwood Park?â
âI would assume a little above three thousand.â
âIs that so?â
âSo it is,â you said, smiling. âWhy the face? Do not you believe me?â you joked, seemingly in a playful mood this morning.
âI ought to walk with you around the park in order to further prove your answer.â
As you two linked arms, and began to walk around the park, surrounded by bushes and trimmed shrubbery under the shade-providing trees, you wondered if this was Mr. Wrightâs attempt at flirting, or getting to know you. But, either way, you kept a smile on your face and walked, explaining the paths and routes and terrain as you did so.
âDo you walk often, miss?â
âI believe I told you that I didâat Grantley. Or have you already forgotten? I didnât know you paid so little to a supposed princessâs words, sir.â
Mr. Wright laughed. âIt was an assumption, I explained. If you shall continue to tease me on that subject, I may become humiliated, you know.â
âWhat if thatâs my goal?â
âThen, I suppose, the ladies here in Wadsworth must be very cruel.â
The both of you turned a corner, walking a new veered path as the sun bathed you in light. You were just about to reposition your parasol to shield yourself from the blinding radiance, when, out of the blue, a hand came up to cover your eyes from above; it was discovered to be Mr. Adam Wrightâs.
âOh!â you exclaimed, heat rising to your cheeks. âI thank you, sir.â
âIt is not a problem,â began the officer; âyou repay me by showing me the very nice landscaping here, after all.â
â. . .Ah, I see.â
In truth, you had not been in hopes of being joined in your walk this autumn morning, and you usually preferred solitude in times like these, but, alas, you had been joined by an officer, and were now to show him the ways around Blackwood Park and the rest of Wadsworth. You would be lying if you said it didnât bother you in the slightest. . .
The both of you walked and talked: admiring the beautiful river of Northwick, crossing the bridge above said river, speaking of the chestnuts that had fallen from deciduous trees, and laughing about the squirrels above; all of this up until lunchtime, when you two departedâyou, who had arrived at Stratford House to exchange your calling card with Charlotte and Helena, and Mr. Adam Wright, who had the objective of going forth to the shops.
Upon entering Stratford, you were greeted by the sight of two very excited twins.
âOh, cousin! Youâre here!â cried Helena. âWe were waiting for your call, you know.â
âHm, well, isnât that lovely? What were you waiting for, exactly?â
âIâm not surprised you werenât informed as of late; it was very last minute,â began Charlotte, âbut, we were invited to Kendall Manor, actually. All three of us!â The blonde gestured to you, herself, and her sister.
âKendall?â you repeated, raising your eyebrows. âWell, color me intrigued, then.â
Kendall Manor was a very envied spot in Wadsworth. With many beautiful arts there, it was a very famous spot for tourists to visit; you had even been there once or twice, whilst paying respects to its multitude of pianofortes and large collection of literature. Outside, it had high walls, lakes, an abundance of land, and various fountains throughout. The estate was known, but, in contrast, its owner was not.
For as long as you had lived, the possessor of Kendall Manor had never been present in Wadsworth. Not much information was of him, whoever he was, but the one piece of knowledge regarding him, was that he was alive and well. Maybe in a neighboring country, maybe somewhere else, no one knew where, but everyone knew he was there. It worked out, though; if so many people were visiting and entering Kendall Manor each day, surely the owner would be bothered, but in this case, that didnât matter; the owner wasnât even there!
âCome, lovie,â began Charlotte, as she ushered you upstairs to a changing room; âwe must make haste! The chaise and four have already been called for, and not a second can be of waste.â
You had been dressed, your hair done, and your face painted, before you were, again, shoved into a carriage and driven off to Kendall Manor. It happened incredibly quickly, and gave you whiplash all the while.
âDo you two happen to know who specifically invited us lot?â you asked. âI wasnât familiar with the fact that the owner of Kendall Manor was in the country; was it the doing of a servant? Or was the manor let?â
âDear cousin, you worry too much,â laughed Helena. âWe should instead rejoice at the opportunity of another party; we are bound to have a ball, after all. Why does the host matter?â
You grumbled, and sat silent for the rest of the ride. It was strange; why now? Why did the owner of Kendall decide to come home now? And, why on earth did he invite you and the girls? As far as you were concerned, you had no acquaintance with him, whoever he was, and neither did your family or any other relations you had.
Whilst basking in your confusion and wonder, the horses had come to a stop outside of a quite magnificent abode, and you instantly knew that this was Kendall Manor. Four or five thousand acres of land, under the blazing sun. Beautiful, vast, and plagued with mystery.
The three of you were taken up the stairs, and led inside by a valet, where you were greeted with the even more surprising sight of the rest of your family: some aunts and uncles, Lady Annesley, and others you did not care to name. If that wasnât enough to make your jaw drop, you noticed half (if not all) of Wadsworth residents and even a few familiar faces of officers from the regiment temporarily stationed in the countryside; but, try as you might, your eyes could not set upon the countenance of Mr. Adam Wrightâwho was, probably, out at the shops, and alone.
What was this? Why was everyone here?
âForgive my lack of planning prior,â began a velvety voice you knew well; and when you turned to the sound of that voice, you were met with the face of Mr. Ryomen Sukuna, standing next to his brother. âWelcome, all, to Kendall Manor.â
It was quickly explained that this was a party, in celebration of Mr. Ryomen, who had finally returned to his home country of Wadsworth, and was planning on staying for longer than he had been gone. He wanted to make acquaintances with all the people he wouldâve known had he been here instead of at all his other estates and properties.
The guests were introduced to a large variety of pastries and biscuits and drinks and other desserts from the other counties Sukuna had been staying at previously. People asked him about what his other homes were like: if they were much different from Kendall of Wadsworth, and heâwith his usual disagreeablenessâdid not even try to act humble as he described his very prosperous and fortunate self.
There were many ladies of Wadsworth that were single, and none of them wasted any chance in practically throwing themselves at the owner of the manor. In addition, Charlotte and Helena, once standing beside you, were now off and talking with a number of officers, having a very pleasant afternoon themselves.
You, on the other hand, were not much interested in speaking about subjects such as these, and, accompanied by very few people, walked into a nearby drawing room. Though you were not much of a card-player yourself, it was, perhaps, the only source of entertainment you could find within the walls of Kendall (except for playing pianoforte, which the girls forbade you). A table for Whist was set up, and a party of four, including yourself, began to play.
For a few rounds, you thought you had found peace, but no, a thunderstorm had soon followed you all the way into the drawing room. Mr. Ryomen had come, and was accompanied by the other guests, who were all flocking to him like birds.
âShall we all play a game for more of us?â began the pink-haired gentleman. He was clearly doing this on purpose; his face told you all you needed to know: he was disturbing your peace and quiet for the simple motive of being a bother.
Of course, no one could refuse the host of such a grand party, and a much larger game table was soon set up, so that many could sit down and gamble. You had the unfortunate fate of being seated between the host, and Lady Annesley; and, although you were near at least one good relative, your aunt paid minimal attention to you, for she was seated beside Admiral Dawson, whom she was grossly engaged in conversation with.
Throughout the betting game, either your or Sukunaâs seat had been gradually inching closer to the otherâs, to the point your shoulders were practically touching, and so were your elbows, which occasionally bumped together, causing the both of you to mutter curses or complaints.
âWhy donât you move nearer to your brother, sir? I am sure it would be much appreciated,â you jeered, obviously fed up with the amount of hits you were receiving.
âCareful there, miss. Lying too much can be detrimental.â
ââLyingâ? Oh, please. There is no truth in my saying âI enjoy sitting beside youâ.â
âOf course,â laughed Sukuna, in a mocking tone. âOf course, Miss Untouchable. How could I forget? you just have a problem with everyone these days.â
â. . .â
âI wasnât at all aware, you know, that such a disagreeable woman like you existed. Though, I canât say it was unexpected; your countenance gives quite a fair hint to everyone when looking at you.â
You rolled your eyes. âI am sure the absolute same could be said about you, sir.â
âWhat a coincidence!â teased Sukuna. âI was beginning to think we had nothing in common.â
Narrowing your eyes, you stabbed the heel of your shoe onto Sukunaâs, but he let out neither a curse nor a groan of pain.
Instead, Sukuna rested his arm on the back of your chair with an overwhelming grip as he leaned his face closer to yours; and you couldâve sworn you could see the red of his eyes swirling together in a mix, as if a tornado. The tips of your noses were only centimeters apart, and you couldnât draw a line between where your breath ended and where his started even if you had to.
Your eyes met with equal resentment and agitation, as if there was a mutual message being sent from merely your locked gazes alone, but then, to your surprise, his stare drifted up to your hat.
âVarious shades of blue and green, with gold as an accent,â he noted, in a slurred tone, almost as if he was drunk.
âWell, yes. Have you never seen a peacock feather?â
âTwo of which are both colors on the cooler side of the color spectrum,â he continued, paying no mind to your words; âbut, I must say, red would suit you much better, my darling.â
Your eyes widened at the sound of this, and your gaze fell to your fidgety hands in your laps. Still, you wasted no time in quipping, âI have no doubt I would wear the color much better than you, Mr. Ryomen Sukuna.â
âI can imagine that, but I would rather see it with my own eyes,â he said, eyes trailing back down to your lips.
â. . .â
The hand that was previously draped over the back of your chair slowly but surely made its way down, until it was draped over your hip, gripping and kneading the flesh there. Your breath caught in your throat, and you turned to face Sukuna with an incredulous expression. You mouthed the words What on earth are you doing? To which, the pink-haired man only responded with Nothing you wouldnât want, my lady.
In order for the hand on your hip to not be visible, you had to scoot your chair as far away from Lady Annesley as you could, and press your body as close to Sukunaâs as you could possibly venture. The rest of the drawing room remained boisterous, and completely oblivious to the scandalous act you had going on with the partyâs host.
As his hand lowered down to the ends of your dress, and his fingers crept up your skirt, your cheeks warmed to an extreme extent, and you tugged on Sukunaâs sleeve, desperate for something you couldnât quite put your finger on. This was utterly humiliating! you thought. What was the meaning for this? And in the middle of a party?
His hands felt cold, and you frequently shivered as they moved at a dreadfully slow speed up your legs, before settling in between your thighs. If your face wasnât as red as a tomato before, it surely was now. For, you had originally thought that clamping your thighs together would be the perfect plan to get Sukuna to stop his movements, but no, it made everything altogether worse. By a thousand degrees.
His hand was stuck between your thighs, and, like the bastard he was, Mr. Ryomen Sukuna thought it would be such a fun thing to move your panties aside, and put pressure on your clit, which, consequently, resulted in you having to cover your mouth with your fan, to hide and shield the whimpers that came soon after.
âNnghh.â
His fingers then removed themselves, to which you gasped in relief, but before you could utter another word, you were interrupted by his fingers entering you once more, in a quite diligent fashion. They curled and twisted, and reached deep inside of you, but alas, you could do nothing but writhe; you couldnât bear this predicament you had gotten yourself into being exposed to the rest of the party guests, and you couldnâtâwithout feeling shameâlet it be known that the feeling of Sukunaâs fingers was rather pleasurable.
Your whole bodyâs temperature rose, and you couldnât help the moans that left your lips. This feeling was so . . . strange; you had never felt anything like this before. So overwhelming with both pain and pleasure, and incredibly scandalous. If anyone were to find out what you were doingânever mind, you need not know.
Sukunaâs lips ghosted the shell of your ear, before whispering, âDonât fight it.â
One finger, then two, and now three.
âF-Fight what?â you managed, between whimpers. âWhat are you doing?â
With your thighs still clamped together and squeezing around his hand, the pleasure of Sukunaâs fingers moving within you was highly intensified, and your expression twisted into one of embarrassing lewdness. The suddenly appeared knot in your stomach had tightened, and you had soon reached your peak only moments later, your release clinging to Sukunaâs fingers, which were still deep inside of you.
âHahh, Sukunngh,â you moaned, eyes squeezing shut as you hid your face from other guests behind your fan.
Just as you were recovering from your bodyâs physical reaction and occasional jolts, Sukunaâs voice suddenly sounded in the room, and everyone and their mother turned to face him, completely unbeknownst to the fact that his hand was still in between your legs.
You didnât hear much of what he saidâyour head still swimming, and your self dazedâbut you managed to make out a few words, where Sukuna had explained that there were numerous hallways in Kendall that were filled from top to bottom with many famous and beautiful paintings and other art works. The guests were unsurprised by this knowledge, but nonetheless, they were greatly intrigued, and as a valet of Sukunaâs led the party out of the drawing room, Sukuna sat back down (after making sure everyone had exited) and turned to you with a smug expressionânever once removing his fingers from deep within you.
âSukuna,â you mewled, nearly going crazy at the realization that the man would probably never run out of stamina to finger you, âwhat are you doing?â
Whilst grinning like a mad man, Sukuna pulled you onto his lap within the blink of an eye, which resulted in your back being flush with his hard chest. Beyond shocked, you gasped, but before you could get out another word, you felt the tickling sensation of lips dragging down your clavicle and shoulders, peppering kisses on several moles and freckles you had there.
There was a growing warmth in your core, and though you writhed and wriggled in his grasps, you couldnât help but (after a few moments) finally succumb to his touches and caresses. A sigh left your lips, and you leaned back against the body behind you.
âSukuna, Iâahh, w-why?â
Just as you were beginning to relax, Sukuna removed his hand from between your legs and, with the assistance of his other hand, pulled the top of your dress down, leaving the bare skin of your chest revealed to the empty drawing room and cool air.Â
âYouâre so beautiful, my lady,â he slurred, eyes glued to your exposed tits.
Without wasting a moment, Sukuna began to pull and twist and press at your nipples, which were beginning to harden at his assaults. Your back arched, and you let out an embarrassingly loud moan at the unfamiliar feeling of pleasure. This was totally erotic! you thought, though you did nothing to stop it. As your nipples were carelessly toyed with to Sukunaâs content, your body twisted and squirmed all the while, but to no avail.
As if a child playing with a new toy for the first time, Sukuna squeezed and squeezed at the wholes of your tits, admiring the way your buds pebbled at the attention they were receiving. Your legs kicked at nothing, and you thrashed around wildly; and, if things couldnât get more lewd, you felt the sensation of a warm, wet tongue lick a stripe up your neck.
Pornographic moans, whimpers, and cries filled the empty drawing room, and you couldnât even imagine the looks on peopleâs faces if they returned from the gallery early.
âNnghh! Ahâahâahh! Sukuna!â You panted, delirious.
âMmm, thatâs it, sweetheart,â said Sukuna, as he kissed and nipped at your throat. âDonât hold back; just let out all your cute little noises for me.â
The hands which groped at your breast soon paused in their assaults, and as you began to catch your breath, you felt them gradually slide down the curves of your body, all the way to your thighs, where they hiked up the material of your skirt, pulling it up to your stomach, which left your panties and dignity exposed.
â. . .Sukuna?â You blinked.
âHa! Youâve become so wet just from my hands alone, that I think it would be no trouble at all for you to take my cock right about . . . now.â
âWhatâoh! Mmph!â
Apparently, Mr. Ryomen Sukuna had a major problem with cutting people off, because, just as you were about to ask what he very well meant by that, your hips were tightly gripped onto, your body was raised, and you cried out as you were soon slammed back down onto Sukunaâs cock. All the words in your throat had been swallowed, and your brain turned to mush as you felt so utterly full from his girth and length alone; it was so . . . big. You had never done anything as insane as this, and as moans and cries left your lips left and right, you couldnât distinguish whether you felt more pain or pleasure.
Your eyes fluttered shut, and your face twisted into that of incredible lewdness; your hands gripped onto Sukunaâs biceps, and your nails dug into his muscles, surely leaving crescent-shaped marks in the way.
âShit, gorgeous,â he groaned. âYouâre so tight. Ever been fucked before?â
âNnghh, n-no. . . No!â
âThatâs. . . Fuck. You mean Iâm the first one to touch you like this?â
Sukuna gripped and groped onto your tits as he spoke, before raising up your hips and slamming them back down just like before. One second, you were empty, the next, you were so impossibly full, and then so on and so forth. As Sukuna repeated this for God knows how long, you nearly passed out from the overwhelming pleasure you felt everywhere. From the calloused hands on your hips, to the length of his cock sliding in and out and up and down your walls, to the warm breath fanning your ear. It was all so much.
You had never known pleasure like this before, and you wondered if this was but a dream.
As you rolled your hips, trying desperately for more friction, you were stopped by the feeling of two hands gripping onto the meat of your hips with a strength that was sure to result in bruising the next morrow.
âWhy do you move, darling?â Sukuna leaned down to whisper in your ear, and a shiver ran down your spine. âIâve got you right where I want you.â
Whilst you bounced sensuously on his lap, Sukuna didnât show an ounce of shame as he stared with incredible lust at the sight of your tits bouncing up and down. The tip of his cock penetrated you in places you didnât even know existed until now, and you couldnât help the plethora of moans that left your lips.Â
Just as before, the knot in your stomach tightened to an unbearable height, and with one last rough thrust, you came right on Sukunaâs cock; your bodily fluids dripping down his shaft and leaving a sticky feeling between your thighs as they dried.
âSo?â began Sukuna, bringing you out of your dazed state.
In confusion, your brows knitted together. âIâI beg your pardon?â
âHow was it?â
âHow was . . . what?â
You could hear Sukuna scoff from behind you. âAre you that dense, my dear lady? Or have you already forgotten what we haveâmind youâjust done?â
â. . .Iâm afraid my memory is not as sufficient as oneâs might be,â you teased, despite yourself.
The corner of Sukunaâs lip quirked upwards, into a grin, as a mischievous expression made its way onto his face. âShall we refresh your memory, then?â
âHow so?â
With his cock still buried deep inside of you to the hilt, Sukuna stood up and moved your bodies in tandem until he was able to lay the top half of your body on the drawing roomâs table. Your bare tits pressed up against the rough wood, and you groaned in relief as you laid the side of your face down.
Unfortunately (or fortunately) for you, Sukuna had no even the slightest idea of relaxing on his mind, and as the lids of your eyes began to droop, Sukuna woke you straight up with a hard thrust inside your cunt, which slightly shook the table and resulted in a rather unpleasant sound reverberating throughout the living space.
This, completely, caught you off guard, and the scream that left your throat was to be expected. âAhh! Iâhahh.â
Your back arched, your hair was pulled towards Sukuna, your neck soon began to ache; you saw stars as Sukuna continued his thrusts from before with more (if not the same amount of) force, and you wondered if the walls were thin enough for servants or party guests to hear you from all the way down the hall.
Maybe it was ridiculous, maybe it was not, but as Sukunaâs cock continued to fill you to the hilt, you couldâve sworn you felt him in your guts. Callings of his name, moans of gibberish, and et cetera, left your lips as if in a prayer to God. You panted, you gasped, and your breath got caught in your throat as the table rocked beneath your and Sukunaâs weight.
If not for his stable grip on your hips, you wouldâve fallen and crashed to the floor from how your knees buckled and turned to seemingly nothingness.
âHas your memory been refreshed, my lady?â began Sukuna, in a jeering tone.
âIânnghh, not . . . not quite.â Though you were barley conscious at this point, and pleasure nearly consumed your whole being, you couldnât help but joke. However, as the speed and force of Sukunaâs thrusts began to increase, you soon found yourself thinking how foolish it was to joke in such a predicament.
âYeah? How about now?â
Both hands on your hips had left, and instead found their way to your tits, where they groped and squeezed to Sukunaâs liking.
This may have been your breaking point; and as your back arched and the volume of your lewd cries increased, you found yourself grinding your ass back against Sukunaâs crotch. The extra friction brought you over the edge, and you moaned and moaned like a bitch in heat as you came once more.
You didnât remember much of what came after that (A/N: pun intended), but you knew you had somehow managed to dress yourself and fix your disheveled appearance right as soon as half of the party returned to the drawing room. Whilst the guests drank in the sight of you, Sukuna, on the other hand, had fixed his pants, and casually seated himself on his chair.
âOh, my niece,â exclaimed a bewildered Lady Annesley, âyou are already here.â
You stopped like a deer in front of a carriage driverâs torch, and stuttered as you struggled for an answer. âYes, IâI quickly lost interest while looking at the artwork, and decided to return here to play another game of cards.â
âSo you say? Well, upon my word, what card game did you play that resulted in your countenance to glow so pleasantly as it does now?â
For a second, you had thought your aunt had somehow discovered what you and Mr. Ryomen Sukuna were getting up to whilst alone in the drawing room, but after a momentâs silence, you quickly realized she was being genuine, and, like her usual chaotic-self, was simply wondering about a possible new skincare routine. At this newfound conclusion, you let out a sigh of relief, and continued in conversation for the remaining duration of the party at Kendall.
However, at the back of your mind remained the still recent memory of what it was like to have your brains fucked out by none other than Mr. Ryomen Sukuna, who, whilst he pretended to linger around your being while you chatted with relatives, occasionally trailed a playful finger up your spine, which always resulted in your breath being caught in your throat, as you feared he would do something similar to what he did before the guests had left.
***
It was lateâwell into the evening, reallyâwhen a messenger on his horse had come by with mail in his inventory.
A fortnight had passed since that . . . incident in Kendall Manorâs drawing room, and you had been avoiding Sukuna ever since. You feared that if you did otherwise, you would begin to develop an unhealthy relationship with his cock, which, even after fourteen days, you had not forgotten the feeling of. It was strange, to say the least. At first, you had thought Sukuna to be a very disagreeable man, a very disagreeable man, indeed; but now, he was . . . well, no, he was the same, but his dick, on the other hand, was much more agreeable.
You had never thought yourself to be one to have sexual intercourse before marriage, but maybe there could be an exception for someone like Mr. Ryomen Sukuna.
Sometimes, you laid awake at night, at times past the Devilâs hour, you assumed, and tossed and turned and tried to replicate how Sukunaâs fingers felt, how his mouth made you feel, how full his cock made you, but to no avail. You would, eventually, scream into your pillow out of frustration, and pass out from exhaustion.
Damn him. Damn him and his whole entire lineage.
Who was he to make you feel this way, huh? Who was he to come waltzing into Wadsworth with his expensive little steed and expensive fucking clothes, and leave you high and dry? Who was he to spoil you for your future spouse? He had no right, absolutely none.
And so, when a messenger and his horse came to the doors of Blackwood Park, you could probably imagine the distress and anxiety you had suffered. All the color had been drained from your face, for you wondered if a letter had come from Mr. Ryomen Sukuna himself; your mother and your father had even noticed how pale you had gotten, and, in their worry, asked you how you felt, to which you replied with a short answer, but it contained everything but the truth.
Upon reading the label, you found the manilla paper to be addressed to none other than you. Even more horrified, you searched frantically for a name, and after reading the words Mr. Adam Wright, you seemed to calm down by a few degrees.
âOpen it, cousin! Open it!â cried Helena; for the girls had been at Blackwood since sundown, and were planning on sleeping over, which was, actually, pretty common between the three of you.
âShall I have no privacy even in my own home?â you joked.
The girls laughed, before exiting your room and running downstairs.
With a sigh, and a tired groan, you began to unravel the letter.
To your astonishment, it was almost four pages! Four pages, filled from top to bottom with a confession of . . . love✠Loveâfrom Mr. Adam Wright? What, in heavenâs name, couldâve produced such a feeling as this? you wondered. Sure, maybe you had flirted with the officer a few times, but it was only minor incidents, and you had done them with the imagination that nothing could come of it. But no, you couldnât have been more wrong.
Mr. Adam Wright was in love with you.
In his letter, he frequently quoted phrases from your favorite books and epics, but none of them seemed to affect you more than with distraught and horror. He confessed he was too much of a coward to profess his love in person, and, in addition, claimed he could not say all that he felt for you, for he felt too much to say, and writing it down was as close as he could get to letting everything out.
He was in love with your laugh, your smile, your mind, and your soul.
âI have never conversed with a lady quite as charming as you, miss. Your character is incredibly suitable to my likes and my dislikes, and I find, if I had never met you, I would have never met the love of my life. You bewitch me, physically and mentally.â
You had to admit, he was quite poetic when it came to writing a confession of love and admiration, but it pained you more than it flattered you, for, you did not feel even an ounce of the same feeling. Guilt and regret plagued your mind as you read through the seemingly never-ending paragraphs, and yet, you could not and would not accept that someone such as Mr. Adam Wright was in love with you.
It seemed . . . preposterous.
You had never thought of him in that way whatsoever. Well, he was handsome, and he was smart and quite the agreeable man, but he wasnât what you wanted. There had to be someone out there that would reciprocate his feelings, but it wouldnât be you. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.
After reading the letter maybe three times (just to make sure your eyes werenât deceiving you), you sat down for a moment of silence, before opening your door and calling for the girls. Upon their entering, you immediately explained the contents of the letter, and, with a very desperate tone of voice, pleaded for any advice they could give.
âWell, this is. . . Iâm quite appalled, dear cousin,â began Charlotte; âbut, just to be clear, you do not feel the same way?â
âIâm not sure I would be asking for advice if I did.â You laughed, trying to cope with humor.
âI, for one, think you should send a letter back,â suggested Helena.
â. . .You know, I would do that, actually, but, the thing is, Wright wants to see me.â
Both of the sisters asked what you meant by that.
âIn his letter, towards the end of it, I am sure, he asks to see me, near Northwick. I assume he means he wants to propose on the bridge; we walked there once, you see.â
âAnd you did not think to tell us until now?â cried Helena.
You raised your hands in defense. âHey, I didnât think much of it.â
âThis is quite the predicament youâve gotten yourself into,â declared Charlotte.
And this was quite the predicament, indeed. The next morning, a little after breakfast, you had begun to walk to Northwick. And, upon reaching sight of the bridge, you had found that Mr. Adam Wright was already there. He looked confident, he looked sure, he looked sharp; which just made you twice as guilty.
Before arriving, you had assured yourself everything was going to be just dandy; you would get it over with as quick as possible, and then attend the play you had been invited to by a couple of friends. The proposal of Mr. Adam Wright would be soon forgotten about, and you would sing and dance and be merry for the rest of the day.
âMy lady, how do you do?â Wright was always quick when it came to greeting you. âI assume youâve received my letter?â
âI am quite fine this morning, sir; and yes.â
âHave you any response?â
You nodded, before saying, âI am . . . rather flattered to receive a proposal from such a man as you, Mr. Adam Wright, but I am afraid I cannot give you my hand in marriage.â
You had consequently explained your reasoning, and how you did not reciprocate any romantic feelings such as love towards Mr. Wright, who accepted your words with a very solemn expression. That was a nice quality of his: to be able to accept rejection, and you even noted how you thought he was a very agreeable man, who was sure to find a wife sooner or later.
âThere are many balls that occur in Wadsworth, with many women who attend, but, if that fails, an itinerant profession such as yours indubitably has the aspects to acquire a spouse within a lifetimeâyes, I am sure.â
âI see you do not accept my proposal, then; very well. Good morning, miss.â
With the tipping of his hat, and a very quick farewell, the two of you parted ways.
A few hours had come by after your declination, and you soon found yourself standing outside of Grantley Hall with Charlotte and Helena, Lady Annesley, a few other relatives and friends, and Mr. Ryomen Sukuna and his brother. You hadnât expected to see either of them any time soon, but maybe your aunt was just very sociable, and considered them to be friends.
Upon noticing Sukunaâs face amongst the crowd, you immediately ducked away, and subtly hid yourself behind your aunt, who was taller and broader than you, and could serve as a pseudo-shield, but of course, your efforts were noticed and fruitless, in the end.
Sukuna had caught sight of your figure, and made eye contact with you for a relatively long time, before turning back to a conversation with his brother.
âEveryone seems to be here,â began your aunt, double-checking the party; âhow about we begin our journey? The theater is quite far, I heard.â
And so, everyone had started to pile into a multitude of carriages and vehicles. Unfortunately, with such a large party as you were in, you obviously had the luck of being stuck with none other than the Devil himselfâMr. Ryomen Sukuna. There was no other room for you with anyone else you knew; you had received offers to switch seats, but due to your having taken a liking to rejecting people (A/N: this is a joke; please laugh), you had declined them all.
In consequence, you and Sukuna were forced to ride in a carriageâalone.
The cushions were small, and you were forced to acquire a seat right beside Sukuna. Your shoulders bumped occasionally, due to the jolts of the carriage and the bumpy road, but that was about it. You were neither squished nor totally uncomfortable. And, at first, it was quite pleasant, actually. Neither you nor Sukuna spoke much, due to your embarrassment, and his . . . indifference? so you had no reason to stutter or stumble over words. Well, that was, until Sukuna decided to bring up a certain someone into the conversation.
âIt seems you have taken quite the partiality towards Wright,â he began; and you could practically feel his piercing stare burning holes through your head, but alas, you kept your eyes on the road, and avoided eye contactâwhich was beginning to prove to be quite the challenge.
âWe are acquaintances.â
âJust acquaintances?â
You sighed. âIt depends on how you define the word âacquaintance,â I suppose.â
âYou know, my lady, I have heard quite a rumor this morningâregarding you and that officer.â
You froze, an infinite amount of ideas popping into your head, before snapping your neck to meet Sukunaâs much amused ones. âPray, have you any idea how rude it is to bring up a subject without elaborating,? You, sir, ought to explain further.â
Sukuna, ignoring your words, cast his eyes downward, saying, âShow me your hand,â with as less emotion and as much authority as humanly possible.
Perhaps in an act of childish rebellion, you covered your gloved hands, and put them aside. âI do not see how that is of any relevance.â
âWhat a coincidence; I do.â Scoffing, Sukuna took your left hand into his, and held it up to his face, completely disregarding your protests and fruitless attempts at flailing around.
When he found what he wanted, he placed your hand down, and looked at your pout with a smug expression. âI take it you are not engaged, then?â
âIâve no ring,â came your curt reply, before crossing your arms over your chest. You had initially hoped to fool him for even a bit longer, but Sukuna was more resourceful (forceful) than you could admit.
Sukuna laughed. âMiss Untouchable refused Mr. Adam Wright? What a spectacle that surely was. Say, the next time you reject a proposal, let me know prior so I can sit and watch.â
âWhen Hell freezes over, I will.â
Leaning over to peer into your eyes, Sukuna offered a shit-eating grin. âYou can be so rude, my fair lady.â
Finally meeting his eyes at last, you couldnât help the abusing words that soon left your lips. âYou call me ârude,â I hear? That is how you think of me? What about yourself, then, sir? Is the way you treat a lady such as I any different than ârude,â I wonder?â
Sukuna grabbed your hips and dragged you onto his lap as you continued to berate and rip at him whilst he remained totally unfazed. He had become used to your character at this point, and your insults and scolding merely droned on in the background as his mind was set on other things.
âHow else am I rude, madam?â
âWhen youâWhen you. . .â You paused, averting eye contact. âWhen you make me feel . . . this way.â
âAnd, pray tell,â began Sukuna, as he grabbed your chin and forced you to look in his eye, âwhat way do I make you feel?â
You chewed at your bottom lip, and out of frustration, could not form much to say.
When Sukuna noticed your hesitance, and your embarrassment, he decided to take matters into his own hands, and as a smile began to etch on his face, he lifted the ends of your dress, piling it at your waist, before beginning to trail his hands up your bare thighs at a teasingly unbearable speed.
At the familiar act, your breath caught in your throat, and you clawed at the lapels of Sukunaâs coat jacket.
Without stopping for even a beat, Sukunaâs cold, slender fingers made their way up your thighs, and began to ghost over the wetness that had formed at your entrance.
âMy, my, my, donât tell me, was it your anger at me that got you so wet, or was it my mere showing up today?â
âNeither, you bastard.â
As if possessed by an entity, (or maybe it was because you just couldnât take it anymore), you grabbed Sukuna by the collar, and roughlyâand clumsilyâsmashed his lips against yours. Almost immediately, his hands squeezed and groped at your ass, as he met your lips with an almost equally fervent kiss.
You had never done something so deliberately and scandalous before (except for that evening at Kendall, but that doesnât count), and you almost wondered if you were doing everything wrong. But, seeing as you could feel a growing hardness beneath your bottom, you were soon assured of your quite capable abilities.
âFuck, darling. Have you been waiting to do this?â he murmured, between kisses.
âMm, yeahâin your dreams.â
Your bodies moved in sync, as if two puzzle pieces designed just for each other, and sounds of sensuous and sensual activity soon began to fill the carriage. Sukunaâs hands trailed down your ass as you kissed, and he didnât waste any time before shoving your panties aside, and pushing one, then two, fingers in.
The unexpected action elicited a moan from your lips, and you tugged and pulled at Sukunaâs hair as if searching for leverage against the assault between your legs.
His fingers curled within you and moved at a speed that accelerated every second; the painful realization had soon hit you, that, God, you had truly missed this feeling. Slick dripped down your legs, and was, probably, staining the material of Sukunaâs pants, but it wasnât like either one of you cared.
One of Sukunaâs hands gripped onto the flesh of your ass, while the other toyed with and fingered your dripping cunt; his lips moved against yours like an animal in heat, whilst your arms had been thrown and looped around his neck. The carriage shook and wobbled as it traversed the uneven roads, and that pushed you even closer to Sukuna, leaving you in quite the scandalous positionâwith your tits pressed up against his chest, your hands tangled in his unruly hair, and his mouth on yours.
It was a missed feelingâthe salty taste of his lipsâand when the both of you parted, for the inconvenient sake of catching your breaths, Sukuna moved the hand on your ass to shove the top of your dress down to your waist, leaving you nearly bare: in all your gloryâjust for him.
His eyes roamed your body like a predator admiring prey, and while you leaned your front against him, Sukuna leaned his head down, to your shoulders, to kiss at and suck at all the exposed skin he could reach.
It was incredibly lewdâthe sounds you released, and you couldnât even fathom how the others would react if they saw you: you and Sukuna, doing whatever the hell it was that you two were doing at the moment.
As your volume increased, so did the speed and velocity of his fingers. There was a warm feeling at your core, and you soon found yourself releasing all over his handâstill deep within your cuntâas pornographic moans and cries and mewls escaped your throat.
âNnghh! Hah, mphh, Sukuna . . . SukunaâSukuna!â His name left your lips like a prayer, and you could only hope that the pearly gates would still open for you after this hell of a carriage ride.
âYou are . . . inimitable, my love,â he purred, âand extremely, inhumanly bewitching. Fuck, do you think youâre wet enough to take it? I am afraid I cannot loiter any longer.â
It didnât matter what you thought; you knew you were, and as Sukuna lifted your hips, before bringing them down right onto his cockâwhich filled you to the brim, and impossibly more than last timeâyou knew this carriage ride would probably be your last. At least, it would be your last carriage ride with him.
Your hips were raised, before they were repeatedly slammed back down with enough force to bring the both of you crashing down onto the seats; your tits bounced, whimpers left your parched throat, and you could barely hold onto Sukunaâs shoulders for balance and support as the carriage began to jolt and jerk uncontrollably, causing unbearably pleasurable friction.
Heavenâs sake, how bumpy was this road?âgoddamnit.
In addition to the bouncing of the carriage, the hands and claws digging into your ass, the marks and bites being left on your chest, there was also the rough thrusts from Sukuna, which brought you nearly over the edge. Your eyes rolled back into your head as the tip of Sukunaâs cock could be felt penetrating all the way in your guts, and to add on to the smell of sex wafting through the humid air, the discordant melody of your moans certainly added a little bit pizzazz.
You wanted more, you needed more, you craved more.
Sukunaâs length and girth slid up the walls of your cunt, and you swore you could feel every pulsing vein of his cock as it moved and twitched. You were so unbearably full; you struggled to form full words, and most of them only contributed to unintelligible sentences meaning nothing.
âAhh, nnghh, hahh, mmph.â
âWhat, donât tell me little Miss Untouchable over here is suddenly feeling pleasure from some low-life bastard such as I,â laughed Sukuna, who, for some reason unbeknownst to you, still had some humor left in him even whilst he had fucked you into putty in his hands.
âI . . . nnghh, do you ever stop talking?â
Sukuna laughed, a husky, dark laugh, before bringing you in for the most zealous kiss you had ever kissed. Your lips collided, smacking against each otherâs, and your hands clumsily roamed each otherâs bodies, before one last jolt of the carriage had you feeling every inch of Sukunaâs length in the absolute right-est spot you could ever imagine, and as you moaned into the kiss, the knot in your stomach tightened just as before, and you almost felt like you were under drugs as you came.Â
Sticky, hot, and warm.
Unbearable, highly bothersome, and completely insane.
You were filled to the brim with Sukunaâs seed just a moment later, and a string of saliva from your lips connected you and Sukuna for a few seconds more as the both of you pulled away to catch your breaths.
âNow, before I go and do something foolish,â began Sukuna, still partially panting, âtell me, dear, do you feel like rejecting another manâs proposal today?â
âIt is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.â â Pride & Prejudice (opening line)
Whether you liked it or notâor, well, that didnât matter, really; you had no choiceâyou had connections. Plenty of them.Â
You were the firstborn and only child to a renowned lawyer and his wifeâwhom you called your parents. Your birth was one of necessity, not out of love and want. Most of your mother and fatherâs siblings constantly pressured them into conceivingâin order to extend the bloodline, they explainedâand so they were coerced into a sense of rushing and urgency. This, however, didnât diminish any of their affection towards you; you were, after all, their only child, their eldest child, and their most beloved child.
âWealthyâ was quite the understatement when it came to describing your family tree. You were rich in prosperity and success, physically and mentally. Your parents cherished you as their only offspring, gave you only the finest governess, and treated you as more of an equal than a baby. That proved not a problemâseeing as how vast your then and current knowledge was compared to those of average salary.
Being an only child may have been quite out of the ordinary in the present times, but the number of relatives you had was abundant enough that you often felt it was really the opposite.
Your grandparents seemed to have a lot of fun back then, because, each of your parents had at least five siblings, which resulted in a little more than ten aunts and uncles when grouped together. This was, however, not as jolly as it may seem. Your aunts and uncles were all old, had even more children than your grandparents, and loved, loved, loved, critiquing others. They tipped their hats at you when greeting, kissed your cheeks and the backs of your hands, but, regardless, they never failed to mention at least one of your faults and flaws.
In addition to this, you had cousins galore. On your motherâs side was a bit fewer than thirty, while your fatherâs side consisted of two and twenty. It may be a given, it may be not, but you werenât as close with your cousins as most would normally be. Sending and receiving letters was seldom exchanged, and meeting at balls and dinners was probably the only times you ever conversed with a cousin or two. Well, except for Charlotte and Helena.
Where could you even begin when describing those two? you often laughed.
They were twins, and would look exactly the same if it wasnât for the fact that Charlotte had blonde curls that she frequently let down, while Helena often wore a brunette updo atop her head. Since birth, they had been inseparable, and most people usually referred to them as a pair, saying things such as Where are the girls? or Are the girls attending? It was great, really. In truthâconcise, and full truthâyou loved the girls just as if they were your own sisters; and, sometimes it seemed that way.
You three always read together when the men went shooting birds, gossiped about the townspeople, and often matched your dresses, ribbons, and gloves to each other at balls and other gatherings of the like. Maybe it was due to your compatibility, but if you had to call anyone your best friend, it would have to be the girls.
They were both two years your juniors, but it was a commonly known fact that Charlotte was as intelligent as someone ten years your senior. She pored over literature all day, bent over desks examining records, and was always the one to come to when in need of rational advice. Helena, on the other hand, was a bright girl, but she certainly wasnât a scholar; her strong suit was her humor and charm. She made acquaintances like no other, and had an almost endless amount of suitors and beaus asking for her hand.Â
But, if that wasnât the case, she would definitely still have an equal amount of friends. Maybe even the whole population of Wadsworth, if Helena wanted. But, really, that would not be much wanted.
The men and women of Wadsworth were numerous, but they were all prickly in their own ways. You often liked to joke that the countryside of Wadsworth was really just one big rose bush; most people were thorns in the sides, while, if you looked deep, there were plenty of roses, as well. Now, you didnât hate attending balls, per se, but, the main reason keeping you away was that the men knew not how to dance at all, tripped over othersâ feet and shoes, and their vocabularyâoh, lord, their vocabulary. It would be much pleasanter if you didnât even begin on that topic.
Wadsworth was not smallâbig enough to fit everyone without being too congestedâand it laid up north, where the weather was nice all of twelve-month. The grass was always green, and healthy, and the hefty trees provided shade that was more than needed. It was beautiful, absolutely beautiful, and if it wasnât the people that lured in tourists, it would have to be the scenery and landscaping.
Aside from the actual land, the properties, the estates, and the manors were all also a sight to behold. Wealthy were your neighbors, and your aunts, and your uncles, and the other ladies and the other sirs. Abodes were more grand than notâall at least two storiesâhad beautiful shrubbery and quite talented gardeners, large windows, and ornate carriages.
The people who filled these properties all had a profuse liking to dancing, and balls were held most frequently. Sometimes at Stratford Houseâwhere the girls resided, sometimes at Grantley Hallâthe home of another aunt you had, and sometimes somewhere else. You, however, resided in Blackwood Park with your mother and father. It was a luxurious abode; your governess was as knowledgeable as can be, and the staff were all as kind-hearted as to be expected. You had bookshelves all to yourself, and read to your heartâs content whenever you felt the need to decline an invitation to a social gathering.
Prosperousâwas your life.
In the middle of drinking teaâanother activity you took up with your cousinsâa commotion started up in the streets outside.Â
All ladies of the town were absolutely, or, at least, nearly under a spell, as they all scrambled to their windows at the sound of hooves and neighing; they went to great lengths such as even peeking behind shutters and curtains, just to attempt even merely a glimpse at the two wealthyâand, if you did say yourself, dashingly dressedâgentlemen that had arrived on their grand steeds; of all their grandeur were individual breeds of andalusian and shire.Â
It was, without a doubt, quite the sight to behold on a previously seemingly ordinary Tuesday morning. And, you werenât at all surprised at the idea of any of your family screaming at the chance of possible suitors for either you or their children.
âOh my!â gasped Helena, as she set down her tea cup, and hurried to look through the windows of Blackwood. âPray, do you think the gentlemen are married?â
âI would think so,â sighed Charlotte; âany person who looks like that ought to have ladies lining up at his door, wouldnât you agree it is so?âÂ
The blonde turned to you with an expectant look on her face, and you hesitated for an answer. âIf they are as handsome as they are dressed, then, maybe. I have not a good look at their faces from this angle.â
âOh, dear cousin!â cried the girls simultaneously. They wereâif you could even call it that wayâheavily dejected at the sound of your declaration. It was rational, though, and thatâs why they were so clearly affected; if the men were both handsome and wealthy, it was highly plausible that they were with wives, and any possibility of either of the girls being able to flirt with the gentlemen was thus thrown out of the window.
Laughing, you tried your best to console the girls, and patted each of them on the head, before making your way towards the nearest window. This change gave you a way better opportunity to see the men than you had previously thought. Yes, there were two of them, and yes, they were both as handsome as they were dressedâthough you would never admit such a thing aloud.
Because they were both on their horses, you could not see who was taller, but you knew that the distinction between them both was crystal clear; their heads were both full of unnaturally colored hair.
There was one gentleman with hair white as snow, and eyes blue as the vast sea; he wore expensive, lavish clothing, and held himself up with confident poiseâmuch like a prince would. The other gentleman had pink, rosy hair, that was of a ruly styleâmaybe it was unbrushed, you thought. But the first thing you noticed about him was the evident scowl on his face; he looked like the embodiment of a thunderstorm. Beautiful, but formidable.
Subconsciously, throughout your admiring of the wealthy men, you had been pushing the curtains back inch by inch, until, the white-haired man had seemingly taken notice of your observing, and looked up at your figure with an amused expression, before turning to his friend and pointing at you. With a surprised squeak, you pulled back the curtains and hid yourself before the gentlemen could get another look at you (or so you hoped).
âWhy on earth did you close the curtains?â the girls cried, again, after noticingâthrough their miseryâthat the sight of the men was gone. âJust because they may be possibly married does not mean we cannot admire them all the same.â
âYou think so?â you laughed.
âWell, certainly!â nodded Helena, profusely. âWe could always just stand in corners of rooms, silently admiring their countenances. Arenât I correct, sister?â
Charlotte turned to you with an optimistic smile. âWhy, yes, you are! You must know, cousin, we are perfectly capable of keeping our mouths shut of flirtatious compliments when we are near married men. You must know.â
âWhat a nice thing to know, Lottie. But, we have yet to confirm whether the gentlemen are married or notââ
âOh! bless me! I truly mustâve forgotten that part,â Helena said, as she squealed and kicked her legs back and forth. She was over the moon at hearing theâstill unconfirmedâpossibility that the men might be single. âCharlotte, sister, can you believe it? Either one or the both of us may be married by next spring!â
âOh, cousin,â cried Charlotte, as she took your hands into her own, âthis is such a wonderful Tuesday morningââ
In the middle of her exclamations of joy, Charlotte was interrupted by the calling of your maid-servant, who announced there was company at the door. Now, you were just seconds away from being informed of who it was, but the girls just couldnât contain their anticipation, and before your maid-servant could get but another word out, the twins were flying down the stairs with high and hopeful spiritsâthe tea party completely forgotten.
âWho, in heavenâs name, could it be?â wondered Helena, as she took you by the arm and dragged the both of you downstairs.
âIt must, indubitably, be the fine gentlemen,â declared Charlotte. âHow could it not?â
But, upon opening the doors, it was indubitably not the fine gentlemen.
Your auntâLady Annesley; not to be mistaken as the mother of the girlsâwas standing outside Blackwood Park. She was widowed six or seven years ago, you couldnât exactly recall the date; and she resided in a quite grand abode, called the Grantley Hall. She appeared with an anxious look on her face; but after seeing you open the doors, she hurried herself inside with a jolly, merry laugh.
âOh, girls! All three of you! I have such wonderful news, such wonderful news, indeed.â She kissed each and every one of you on the cheek, and gathered you all into a tight hug; because she was a touchy person like that, but also because she had not seen one of your faces since her temporary departure to Brighton.
âOh, Lady Annesley!â exclaimed Helena. âDo tell us about your vacation and trip. Did you see any officers and soldiers there?â
âHow about the views? Were the waters and beaches pristine?â Charlotte chipped in.
âOh, yes!â Lady Annesley simultaneously laughed and nodded like a mad woman. âYes, yes, yes! My word, it was absolutely lovely, and the weather was just extraordinary; I shall certainly take you all there one day, but . . . that is not important in the present time. You know, Helena, I did make some rather pleasant acquaintances with some Admirals and Lieutenants while at the seashore, and Iâve come with some extra company.â
You raised a brow, intrigued. âAre you to remarry?â
Gasps erupted from the lady and the blonde.
âNonsense. Why, in heavenâs name, would I do that? No, no, the company is not that. You see, girls, the soldiers and officers that I had such a miraculous opportunity to befriend in Brighton have come back with me. Their military regiment is temporarily stationed here in Wadsworth! Can you believe that? When I was informed by Admiral Dawson, I was rendered speechless for a few minutes, you must know. But, ah, that is long forgotten now.
âThere must be a ball hosted soon. It shall be at Grantley, I suppose, but a few arrangements will have to be taken care of before then.â Lady Annesley began to quietly murmur to herself afterwards, droning on about plans required to host a proper ball for so many residents of Wadsworth in addition to the many officers and soldiers.
The girls turned to face you with ecstatic expressions as your aunt fell into a subconscious silence.
âIsnât this just a wonderful Tuesday morning?â asked Helena. âSo many possibly unmarried men to gawk at and admire. How do you reckon, cousin, do you think men hardened by weather and work will be more handsome than gentlemen? I am quite curious, I must say.â
Charlotte answered for you. âIâm not even sure we would know. Here in Wadsworth, weâve never seen any men of rank and occupation as of theirs, have we?â
The three of you shook your heads, shrugged, and wonderedâany thought of the wealthy gentlemen was gone, and forgotten about, as Helena walked off to prepare a dress and fan for the ball, Charlotte stayed behind with Lady Annesley to speak about the scenery during her vacation, and you strode off to drink from your previously abandoned tea cup and continue eating the little French biscuits that the girls had brought along.
It was a pleasantly spent Tuesday morning, indeed. However, not much of the same could be said about the next.
You had not been an hour awake until your cousins had barged into your bedroom, and squealed and giggled as they jumped and danced around your room, exclaiming words and nonsense that your morning fog prevented understanding of.
âOh, cousin! Do you not know? Today will perhaps be the most amazing night of our lives! Just picture it,â Helena began, pulling you out of bed and forcing you to dance with her, âa whole regiment of soldiers and officers will soon be filling Grantley Hall. The chances of any one of us being able to dance with them is highly likely, is it not? Oh! this is wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!â
âHelena, justâjust wait a minute,â you said, pausing before Helena could waltz with you any more, âI have not even gotten dressed for breakfast. And the ball isnât until evening. What are you and Charlotte so excited for? Many hours to come before the âmost amazing nightâ of our lives, you know.â
âSister,â sighed Helena, as she turned to Charlotte, âyou must certainly explain to our dearest cousin.â
Charlotte nodded. âMany hours to come are many hours to prepare. We must prepare our gowns, fans, bonnets, gloves. And, Helena, before I forget, what are we here for in the first place? to practice dancing, of course. Cousin, Iâll have you know, there is absolutely no chance I am letting you stay huddled at the pianoforte the whole night.
âAlthough your playing is much beloved, and appreciated, I am almost certain there will be others providing their services at the instrument. Whether you like it or not, I am forcing you to dance. If you do not waltz with any men, you will waltz with me or Helena or Lady Annesley.
âAt your age of six and twenty, people worry you will end up celibate, you know.â
You hid a faint smile behind your hand. âIs this your way of looking out for me, then?â
The girls laughed, full of cheer.
Fortunately for the twinsâwho did not leave your side once throughoutâboth the morning and the afternoon had passed by with a considerable amount of speed. You three had acquired sufficient gowns for the coming evening, and had spent some time finishing up hair and obtaining jewelry and other essential cosmetics.
It had taken the strength and power of both the girlsâwith the additional help of Lady Annesleyâto be able to force you out the doors of Blackwood Park, and consequently, shove you into the carriage parked outside.Â
In all honesty, you werenât in the particular mood to go to a ball, but when your aunt has her mind set on making acquaintances, she will not let go. She often said, Oh, dear niece, think of the men you can meet! or, So many handsome men of great fortunes, or, Rough, calloused, tall; is there anything better? and other similar sayings. It certainly did not help, at all, that Charlotte and Helena only encouraged your aunt.
A husband was never one of your top priorities; dying a single woman was not as unfortunate for you as it would be for other women. You had money, you had wealth, you had prosperity. Some people wed simply for gaining rank and title, carriages and clothes, and estates and property. But you had absolutely no need for any of that. And thatâs why, as you walked into Grantley Hallâafter what was perhaps the longest, most boring carriage ride of your lifeâyou did not look to see who was handsome, or agreeable, or most rich.Â
Instead, you looked for a chance to sit down, or, even, scurry awayâfrom your companions, before they could force you to converse with some puny men, or rekindle your relationships with your many, many aunts and uncles.
Despite yourself, you couldnât help your eye wandering about the property; and only then, did you notice just how many new people were in Wadsworth at this time of year. Just as your aunt had said; there were officers, soldiers, other members of militia, captains, and men of ranks you could not and did not care to recognize.
Although you werenât as crazy as Helena and Charlotteâwhom you assumed were probably in some corner, certainly already flirting with the single men they managed to find, and blushing and obsessing as wildly as lunaticsâyou also werenât as prejudiced to say everyone was of absolutely terrible breeding. You saw some handsome faces, you saw some . . . not handsome faces, but, even with all this, you werenât intrigued. No, not even in the slightest bit.
In an act of rebellion against your âkidnappers,â you were en route to the pianoforte, when you heard a voice call for you, and saw a figure stop in the middle of your way.
âGood evening, miss,â came the callâfrom an officer, you assumed. âPardon my intrusion, for I am simply tempted to make an acquaintance with someone of such great countenance as yours. I almost mistook you for a princess, you know.â
He was tall, had long legs, and a fit figure. His hair was dark, and so were his eyes, which were sharp, and stared back at you with emotion you could not read. Of all men you had noticed, he was, as of late, the most handsome, and by far.
A hand was given; a kiss was placed on the back of the palm; and names were exchanged. You referred to him as Mr. Wright, and, after a few minutes spent in conversation, you deemed him a quite agreeable man, whose good breeding had gone not only into physical appearance, but also into his heart. Mr. Adam Wright had opinions similar to your own, was interested in writings you read, and preferred the entertainment of pianoforte, which you played quite often.
âHow have you been liking Wadsworth, sir?â you asked, as the two of you began to make your ways to the instrument in the corner of the hall; Wright had requested to hear you play.
âVery much. Very much so, indeed. It is even more lovely than your aunt (remind me her name again, was it Lady Anne?) had previously said. Iâm quite fond of the scenery, actually.â
âOh, are you? You know, there are many paths to walk where youâll be able to see breathtaking views, I must say. But, if you dislike walking, itâs safe to say that passing by the gardens and shrubbery of most homes is quite adequate enough.â
âNo, no, there will be no need,â Wright said, shaking his head. âI find walking very enjoyable.â
You laughed. âWhat a coincidence; so do I!â
It was, about a secondâs distance away, just before you were beginning to seat yourself at the pianoforte, that you felt another presence behind you. Thinking it was just a friend of Mr. Wright that was only planning on making conversation, you turned around with a smile already on your face, but you were met with the sight of none other than your aunt, Lady Annesley, who appeared buzzy, and a bit gone. Had people already begun to drink? you wondered.
âDearest niece,â she started, placing a hand on your shoulder, âthere are two very fine gentlemen I would like for you to meet. Come along now, child,â your aunt beckoned, but as she noticed the man standing to your right, she paused for a minute, laughed, and then continued, âyou do not mind, sir? if I steal my niece away for just a moment? I assure you, there are many nice ladies in here that you can help yourself to.â
Lady Annesley waited not even a second to hear Mr. Wrightâs response before she dragged you away to another part of Grantley Hall. You occasionally stumbled over your shoes due to your auntâs unbalanced speed, and watched as the faces around you came and went in a blur whilst you traveled. Obviously, you knew prior, but you only fully realized how many people were in attendance when you caught the eyes of an old teacherâwho, to be completely honest, you had not seen since last Michaelmas.
âRight this way, my dear,â your aunt said, in a sing-song tone. âI am very eager, you know, for my darling niece to make such very acceptable acquaintances tonight. Not a chance nor a second shall be missed, and, if the gentlemen have not left and juked me, they should still be right . . . here.â
Lady Annesley had stopped so abruptly in her tracks at a corner of the room that you nearly collided with her back, but, fortunately, you did not. Your eyes lifted, and met the view of two very dashingly dressed gentlemen. Brothers, you assumed, who both had equally pink hair, and wore a pair of nearly complete opposite expressions on their faces.
The taller oneâwho you thought was the brotherâhad a fine countenance, a very fine countenance, indeed. His lips were pressed in a thin line, and truly brought out the essence of his character. He had sharp features, similarly to Mr. Adam Wright; his eyes were red as the rubies on his brooch, and he looked like the epitome of wealthy and expensive and elegant. His posture was composed, confident, and totally sure of himself; his hands were folded behind his back, and his eyebrows had a slight quirk in them as he, too, looked you over as you approached.
Your eyes then wandered over to the shorter brother, who stood to the right of the taller one. His face was a near replica of the prior, but his features were softened down, a little more dull, if you could even put it that way, and his smile was perhaps the most prominent feature on his face. The youthful countenance of his was on display, and you had no doubt that either Charlotte or Helena had already set their eyes on him. On the other hand, he looked young, very youngâyounger than you, perchance; an air of innocence was about his figure, and his eyes shone bright as day.
Sunshine, and thunder.
Oh! that is right; you knew these men, or, at least, you knew the taller one.
A corner of your lips tugged upwards as you made the remembrance. Thisâthis man, this great, wealthy man; you had seen him last week! Certainly! He was one of the two gentlemen who rode on their steeds into town, and as of late, you had received no additional information about them except for the fact that they were of extraordinarily good breeding and admirable poise.
Your hand was offered, received and accepted, and was kissed in greeting. Introductions were quickly exchanged, and you happened to learn that the taller gentleman was called Sukuna Ryomen, whilst his (confirmed to be) brother was named Yuuji. To your great surprise, and due to your auntâs nosiness, you found that the both of them were unmarried, single, and unengaged.
Originally, you had hoped that that would be the end of it, and your aunt would let you be. But, of course, the universe was not on your side this evening, and you were without the ability to leave and peacefully sit at your beloved pianoforte. Instead, you stood, in a corner of Grantley Hallâunder numerous chandeliersâas you were forced to exert yourself for the sake of âacquaintingâ your being with the two brothers, who, too, looked a bit unsettled by your auntâs coercing to continue conversation.
âPray,â you began, âis your current companion the same gentleman from when you first arrived?â
âMy brother has hair similar to what is on my own head; my previous companionâa friendâhas hair white as snow,â stated Mr. Ryomen, his tone declarative. âHave you no eyes, miss? I am quite sure you are capable of answering your own question.â
You could, obviously, make out that Yuuji was, in fact, not the same man from when Mr. Ryomen first arrived at the countryside; but, you were just simply making small talk. Was the country where the brothers came from so unaccustomed to that? you wondered.
âHave you no sociability, sir? I was not informed prior that simply making small conversation was so . . . unwanted by men like you.â
âWhat, in heavenâs name, is the meaning for this lack of cordiality, I dare ask? Bless me!â exclaimed your aunt, a look of astonishment on her face as she scolded the three of you. âWe are all here to make acquaintances, are we not? Letâs shift to another topic. Pray tell, you are here for . . . ?â
âVacation, miss,â the younger brother smiled. âWe have some friends and family living in Wadsworth, but aside from that, Sukuna is also a landowner hereâin addition to his other estates (he likes a change of scenery, every once in a while, I must add). Iâve heard how nice the weather is, and decided to visit, as well.â
âOh, yes! Most certainly!â nodded Lady Annesley. âWadsworth is a very common tourist countryside, you must know.â
âIs it?â asked the elder brother.
âHave you no ears, sir? That is what was just said; I am quite sure you are capable of answering your own question.â
âMy, is that how the ladies around here speak?â quipped Sukuna, his voice velvety, and dripping with honey as he spoke. ââTo gentlemen, as well? I may have overestimated your hospitality to newcomers, or, well, vacationers.â
âExcuse her,â your aunt interjected, nervously laughing, âsheâs. . . She caught a cold from the recent rain, Iâm afraid. Yes, of course, the rain. Isnât that right?â Lady Annesley nudged you by the elbow. âItâs the rain, isnât it?â
â. . .Indeed.â
Though your aunt occasionally gave you rebuking looks for your behavior, you had paid no effort in pretending to be engaged in conversation with the brothers. She had, with all her might, tried to erect as many topics and subjects worth speaking of as possible, but to no avail. Her spirits were deflated, and Lady Annesley had concluded that if you were going to marry one day, the chances of it being with Mr. Sukuna Ryomen were close to zero.
You two sent jeering comments and jokes towards each other as if your lives depended on it, and, in truth, you couldnât count on either of your hands how many times you rolled your eyes. You found Mr. Ryomen to be a highly disagreeable man, and, if it werenât for his indubitably large fortune and handsome countenance, you would probably call your aunt deranged for even suggesting you mingle with him. Yuuji, his brother, on the other hand, was much agreeable, and his views and prejudices were very reasonable. Of course, the same could not be said about Sukuna.
His interests were in going a-shooting, riding on his stallions, or taking vacations to his various abodes. Yes, he had multiple, and he had no humility to hide that fact; Sukunaâs pride would take up the whole of Wadsworth and more, if it had a physical form. Of course, he had reason to be full of pride: born rich, and would, eventually, die rich. Still, does it hurt so bad to be humble? You didnât waste your breath asking that question; you knew, after all, that Sukuna had no experience in that department.
âAre you staying longâin Wadsworth?â you asked, looking only at the younger brother. Ignorance was a petty way of spiting someone, you had to admit, but it was childish, and Sukuna was as childish as a child could possibly be.
âAh, that is the hope,â smiled Yuuji. âI may think of purchasing land here, you know.â
âIsnât that just wonderful to hear? I would be delighted to have someone as agreeable as you for a neighbor,â you said. âPray, does your brother live anywhere near Blackwood Park? I heard you mention him having property here, in Wadsworth.â
âI live five miles away from Blackwood,â Sukuna answered, instead, for Yuuji.
Your eyes shifted to meet red ones, and you moved your weight onto a different leg, whilst fanning yourself with your fan. âI do not recall asking you, sir.â
Sukuna scoffed. âIs it not sensible to answer on my own behalf?â
âPerhaps so. But, I find that nothing you do is sensible,â you laughed. âSo, either way, there is really no difference.â
It would be a highly plausible assumption to make by saying that Mr. Ryomen Sukuna was pampered to no end as a child, and never denied any fundamentals or trivials. If that was truly the case, then, you could have sworn you saw an unrecognizable glint flash in his ruby eyes at the sound of your constant discourtesy. Unbeknownst to you, Sukuna had, in fact, been coddled as much as you had assumed. And, just hearing his name being so mercilessly abused was already enough to intrigue him. There was, in a sense, something so alluring and bewitching about your recklessness in conversation, that Sukuna couldnât help but long for more of the hearing your insults.
Lady Annesley, on the other hand, was extremely disappointed at your behavior, and couldnât find any reasonâno matter searchingâfor your incredible disdain towards the eldest of the two gentlemen. Your ridiculous bickering and bantering would only serve in embarrassing your auntâs reputation in Wadsworth, and that was far from what Lady Annesley dreamed of. The only thing she could thank God for was that you werenât nearly as prejudiced towards Yuuji as you were to his brother.
âPray, how about we all dance, yes?â your aunt proposed, in faux cheerful spirits. âShall my niece partner with the younger gentleman?â
âOh, Iâm quite afraid that could not be made possible, miss,â said Yuuji, as he offered an apologetic expression. âMy leg is in incredible pain, and I mustâwith much embarrassmentâadmit to my having fallen once while riding here. I may have chosen to travel on quite a rowdy stallion, but it is only myself that I have to blame.â
With a politeness you could never aim towards Sukuna, you offered up your condolences, and, with a smile, proposed that the two of you sat down whilst the other attendees danced to their heartâs content. (If it wasnât obvious before, you were very desperate for any excuse to avoid dancing.) But, to your dismay, Yuuji had declined sitting down, and explained that he had a few other people he was interested in speaking with before the end of the night, and, with a well mannered farewell, bid the three of you adieu.
âWell, upon my word, your parents have done a good job raising that fellow,â added Lady Annesley, a sorry expression on her face as she watched the only other pacifist in your party walk away with an uneven gait, which further proved his excuse.
âWhether that was by the work of my parents, or a governess, or something unspoken, is debatable,â the pink-haired man remarked.
âOr, perhaps, he was merely born with the admirably civil heart he has now. That is quite rare, I must say, in this time, and among these people.â You directed that last bit towards Sukuna, and it was probably pretty clearâseeing as red eyes met yours with just as much animosity soon after your little witty comment.
At first, you were merely treating Sukuna with the same omitted amount of respect he was giving you, but now, you found yourself starting to rather enjoy bullying him. It was pointless banter, after all, and you were almost certain Sukuna felt the same way. Although you felt a sense of dislike towards the man, you couldnât help but be fond of the way he was, probably, the only other man you could banter with so lightly.
Your unconventional views and dislikes and interests often provoked strong emotion and irritation in most gentlemen, and you werenât thought to be very agreeable. But, as for the pink-haired gentleman, he took your abusing words with little to no offense. There was the occasional annoyance displayed on his features: like a little furrow of the brow, or crinkle of the nose; but it was almost humorousâseeing as a small smile usually appeared soon afterâas if he found your insults to be jokes.
After a pregnant pause, Sukuna broke the silence by saying, âDo you dance, madam?â
âWill you force me?â
âIf it cannot be helped.â
You hadnât actually thought to dance with a man like Sukuna, but upon hearing this concise exchange between her niece and hopefully future nephew-in-law, your aunt thought there was nothing better in the world than to usher the both of you to the center of Grantley Hall herself, and force you two to dance among the rest of the attendees. The orchestrated music was loudâloud enough so that little to no one could hear your protesting complaints, and Lady Annesley, smiling to herself at finally having succeeded in getting you to properly socialize, walked away in the direction of the drinks.
Looking at your auntâs back as she walked away, you sighed; all your attempts at escaping had been fruitless, futile, and done in vain. For, whilst a pianoforte played in a Ÿ time signature, you turned to face Sukuna with a sorrowful expression, but you were instead met with a contrasting smile.
âI have never danced with a lady like you before, miss,â he said, in a condescending tone, as he took your hesitant hands into his, and readied himself for a slow, smooth, elegant waltz.
Sukunaâs hands were calloused, rough, and large compared to your own; he was, certainly, a man.Â
A warmth spread throughout your body as you made contact with his skin, and it was almost electrifying, like nothing you had ever felt before. Itâs safe to say you were expecting something else, but you couldnât quite put your finger on it.
âYou must not dance very often, then. I can assure you, with no doubt, that there is not much to put me aside from others.â
The two of you began to move at a languid speed, and soon caught up to the velocity of most other dancers, though, even in such a large and crowded space, you couldnât help but feel as if it was just the two of you. The two of you dancing, the two of you talking; the two of you.
âI can name plenty of distinguishing aspects you have.â
âIs that so?â you asked.
âIndeed.â
âMy, my, my, do enlighten me, Mr. Ryomen.â
âDo you mean it is not obvious?â he asked, looking into your eyes with intent.
You responded with the shaking of your head.
âYour eyesâsomehow brighter than most. Your smileâinfectious, even to someone such as I.â Sukunaâs words were spoken with the utmost sincerity, and you could tell, from his tone, that he meant every word he said; although it surprised you to be complimented by him, you couldnât help the warmth that rose to your cheeks. âYour laughterâmelodious to even the deaf. And you, yourselfâI find you alluring.â
â. . .â
âIs your silence a sign of disbelief?â
In truth, you werenât exactly familiar with hearing such a plethora of compliments, and, since it came from someone you could never expect it from, it made you all the more embarrassed.
âI beg your pardon, sir. You find me . . . alluring?â
âIt shall be known, soon enough, that I am a man who thinks what he says. I do not say what I do not mean, miss.â
Through keeping your head down, you avoided meeting Sukunaâs eyes with all your might, but still, you could feel his penetrating gaze piercing holes through your face. Listening to the music in the background was a method you used in an attempt to calm your nerves, but all was fruitless in the end. If Sukuna had not the way of words he did now, his voice would certainly make up for it. Thick, sultry, velvety; it was absolutely ludicrous how bothered it made you, and you had to occasionally let out a cough to cover up the way you swallowed the frequent lumps in your throat.
After having settled in silence for a few counts of three, Sukuna smiled, laughing at your sudden shyness. âI have heard lots of great things about you, you must know.â
âIsâIs that so?â
âSo it is,â he nodded, before continuing; âyour auntâLady Annesley, was it?âhad briefly spoken about you, in addition to her other nieces and nephews, when she first approached me and my brother.â
At this, you laughed, finally having built up the courage to meet Sukuna in the eyes. âI am concerned about what she might have had to say.â
âAll good things, I assure you.â
You breathed out a sigh of relief you didnât know you were holding, before continuing on in casual conversation. Your banter from earlier had grown severely scarce, and was evidently replaced with subtly flirtatious comments. All the while, you found yourself growing embarrassed more than ever, but over time, you had gradually worked up a familiarity towards the compliments, and felt rather at ease whilst simultaneously talking and dancing with Mr. Ryomen Sukunaâwho appeared as cool and composed as per usual.
It was after the pianoforteâs playing had ended, that the crowd had disconnected from the partners, curtseyed and bowed to one another, and burst into applauds of plaudits. The room was lively, with its guests chatting and talking with delight at such a wonderful dance they had danced just moments prior. People took seconds to recollect themselves, by either grabbing glasses of water, or fanning themselves before the next waltz. You, on the other hand, had begun to make your way to the pianoforte, before you were stopped again (yes, again; why on earth was everyone so opposed to letting you play music nowadays?).
There was a nudge against the back of your elbow, and you turned around with much grace, just to be met with the same face from before.
âCould I trouble you for another round, miss?â came that velvety voice you loved so much.
It was Mr. Ryomen Sukuna, and he was with the objective of claiming yet another spot on your dance card this evening. How wonderful, just so, so very wonderful. . .
â. . .And just what type of round are we speaking of, sir?â
Sukunaâs countenance held the expression of mischief, and playful doing, as he leaned his face down closer to yours, till you couldnât distinguish the line between your and his breath. âWhatever youâd prefer, my fair lady.â
As a smile made its way onto your face, Sukuna did just as he had done before: gathering your warm hands into his cold ones, and bringing the both of you into another waltz just as the euphonious music began again for a second time that evening. While you could never admit it aloud, as the hours passed by, you soon found yourself forgetting all about your beloved pianoforteâthat could, as of late, be put off for maybe just a little longer.
***
âAll we did was waltzâjust like everybody else! What, in heavenâs name, is so unusual about that?â
Your cousins had called on you the next morning after the ball at Grantley, and waited not a second before askingâno, demandingâyou to tell them about all that had happened whilst they were away and mingling. (Yes, you were, in fact, correct in assuming that the girls had been acquainting themselves with officers galore and other various gentlemen that same evening.) But, despite them having a most eventful evening themselves, they were, by far, more curious as to hearing about your experience.
âYes, you waltzed,â Charlotte replied, exasperated, âwe know that; we saw it! after all. But, but, but, not only did you waltz together, you waltzed together twice! Can you believe that, Helena? A wealthyâand, if I must say, handsomeâgentleman claimed not one, but two spots on our very dear cousinâs dance card last evening!â
âIt is oh-so wonderful!â cried Helena, absolutely overjoyed at the fact you were finally socializing for once. âBut, do not forget, sister, that Mr. Ryomen Sukuna, the very man our dearest cousin danced with, also held her hands without gloves! Without gloves! Bless me! I find I shall faint if not cautious, you know.â
The girls gossiped and confabulated over yesterdayâs events with much interest and engagement. They teased you, giggled at the way you waltzed with a man right after verbally abusing him, and accepted his hand twice. It seemed that they could not and would not let it go that you had danced with such a man last evening, and it seemed the only way you could get them to leave their current attentions was to mention their events and who they danced withâto which, they were most delighted to answer you.
âShall we tell her, Lottie?â exclaimed Helena, eager to reminisce about the ball she had. âShall we tell her?â
âOf course, of course!â
And so, with that, the minds of the girls had been successfully veered over to the subject of other men. Helena recalled chatting with several young officers, all who were, as she said, âcharming, and effectively handsome, but they were, unfortunately, as taciturn as to make people assume them mute.â Helena complained about how she could only get acquainted with most officers if she was the one who spoke up first; which, in her eyes, was terribly unacceptable.
Charlotte, on the other hand, was not as extroverted as her twin sister, though, she was pretty enough so that people approached her before she had to open her mouth to anyone. She had made acquaintances with âvery fine gentlemen, very fine and intellectual gentlemen, indeed,â and laughed and chatted about poetry and philosophy almost all night long. She geeked out on her favorite authors and thinkers, and her interlocutors reciprocated with their own. It was a most enjoyable night for herâseeing as most people of Wadsworth did not find such topics in conversations as pleasant as Charlotte did.
âDid you know, cousin,â began the blonde, âthat such an abundance of officers read poetry?â
âNay, I did not, but go on.â
And go on, she did. Whenever Charlotte spoke of writing and literature, she rarely even took a breath to breathe. She was like that: always very passionate about her favorite subjects, and she was rarely able to notice if the people around her had started to bore or notâbut, it mattered not; Charlotte wouldnât have stopped talking anyway, unless, by a chance, she found herself getting thirsty. Yes, she got thirsty quite often, and you often joked (all in good nature, of course) that it was due to how much she talked.
The three of you had spent the entire morning gossiping over tea and biscuits, until a maid-servant had called you all for lunch, and you all burst into quite a harmoniously-sounding fit of laughter at the realization that, throughout your chitter chatter, you had finished neither one cup of tea, nor one plate of pastries. It was a pleasantly spent morning, indeed.
That week passed by with much ease, and the next one passed by similarly. There was even one day, where, you had been met with the fortunate coincidence of crossing paths with none other than Mr. Adam Wright whilst on your daily walk outside of Blackwood Park.
âGood day, miss,â he began, in a smooth voice, âhow do you do?â
âOh! bless me; you had me startled thereâfor a minute, Mr. Wright. But, I am very well; I thank you.â
âI beg your finest pardon, madam,â replied he, before bowing his head ever so slightly. âI did not mean to alarm you.â
You waved your hand around in a dismissing manner. âAnd, to what do I owe the honor of running into you today, sir?â
âAh, I was just admiring the views you were telling me about. You know, when we were chatting about nature and shrubbery? Yes, well, I find your suggestions to be very credible, for this is quite the place you have here, miss.â
âThank you, Mr. Wright, very generous of you to say so.â You smiled.
âNo need to thank me, I am sure you receive compliments on your home thousands upon thousands of times each day. Pray, how many acres is Blackwood Park?â
âI would assume a little above three thousand.â
âIs that so?â
âSo it is,â you said, smiling. âWhy the face? Do not you believe me?â you joked, seemingly in a playful mood this morning.
âI ought to walk with you around the park in order to further prove your answer.â
As you two linked arms, and began to walk around the park, surrounded by bushes and trimmed shrubbery under the shade-providing trees, you wondered if this was Mr. Wrightâs attempt at flirting, or getting to know you. But, either way, you kept a smile on your face and walked, explaining the paths and routes and terrain as you did so.
âDo you walk often, miss?â
âI believe I told you that I didâat Grantley. Or have you already forgotten? I didnât know you paid so little to a supposed princessâs words, sir.â
Mr. Wright laughed. âIt was an assumption, I explained. If you shall continue to tease me on that subject, I may become humiliated, you know.â
âWhat if thatâs my goal?â
âThen, I suppose, the ladies here in Wadsworth must be very cruel.â
The both of you turned a corner, walking a new veered path as the sun bathed you in light. You were just about to reposition your parasol to shield yourself from the blinding radiance, when, out of the blue, a hand came up to cover your eyes from above; it was discovered to be Mr. Adam Wrightâs.
âOh!â you exclaimed, heat rising to your cheeks. âI thank you, sir.â
âIt is not a problem,â began the officer; âyou repay me by showing me the very nice landscaping here, after all.â
â. . .Ah, I see.â
In truth, you had not been in hopes of being joined in your walk this autumn morning, and you usually preferred solitude in times like these, but, alas, you had been joined by an officer, and were now to show him the ways around Blackwood Park and the rest of Wadsworth. You would be lying if you said it didnât bother you in the slightest. . .
The both of you walked and talked: admiring the beautiful river of Northwick, crossing the bridge above said river, speaking of the chestnuts that had fallen from deciduous trees, and laughing about the squirrels above; all of this up until lunchtime, when you two departedâyou, who had arrived at Stratford House to exchange your calling card with Charlotte and Helena, and Mr. Adam Wright, who had the objective of going forth to the shops.
Upon entering Stratford, you were greeted by the sight of two very excited twins.
âOh, cousin! Youâre here!â cried Helena. âWe were waiting for your call, you know.â
âHm, well, isnât that lovely? What were you waiting for, exactly?â
âIâm not surprised you werenât informed as of late; it was very last minute,â began Charlotte, âbut, we were invited to Kendall Manor, actually. All three of us!â The blonde gestured to you, herself, and her sister.
âKendall?â you repeated, raising your eyebrows. âWell, color me intrigued, then.â
Kendall Manor was a very envied spot in Wadsworth. With many beautiful arts there, it was a very famous spot for tourists to visit; you had even been there once or twice, whilst paying respects to its multitude of pianofortes and large collection of literature. Outside, it had high walls, lakes, an abundance of land, and various fountains throughout. The estate was known, but, in contrast, its owner was not.
For as long as you had lived, the possessor of Kendall Manor had never been present in Wadsworth. Not much information was of him, whoever he was, but the one piece of knowledge regarding him, was that he was alive and well. Maybe in a neighboring country, maybe somewhere else, no one knew where, but everyone knew he was there. It worked out, though; if so many people were visiting and entering Kendall Manor each day, surely the owner would be bothered, but in this case, that didnât matter; the owner wasnât even there!
âCome, lovie,â began Charlotte, as she ushered you upstairs to a changing room; âwe must make haste! The chaise and four have already been called for, and not a second can be of waste.â
You had been dressed, your hair done, and your face painted, before you were, again, shoved into a carriage and driven off to Kendall Manor. It happened incredibly quickly, and gave you whiplash all the while.
âDo you two happen to know who specifically invited us lot?â you asked. âI wasnât familiar with the fact that the owner of Kendall Manor was in the country; was it the doing of a servant? Or was the manor let?â
âDear cousin, you worry too much,â laughed Helena. âWe should instead rejoice at the opportunity of another party; we are bound to have a ball, after all. Why does the host matter?â
You grumbled, and sat silent for the rest of the ride. It was strange; why now? Why did the owner of Kendall decide to come home now? And, why on earth did he invite you and the girls? As far as you were concerned, you had no acquaintance with him, whoever he was, and neither did your family or any other relations you had.
Whilst basking in your confusion and wonder, the horses had come to a stop outside of a quite magnificent abode, and you instantly knew that this was Kendall Manor. Four or five thousand acres of land, under the blazing sun. Beautiful, vast, and plagued with mystery.
The three of you were taken up the stairs, and led inside by a valet, where you were greeted with the even more surprising sight of the rest of your family: some aunts and uncles, Lady Annesley, and others you did not care to name. If that wasnât enough to make your jaw drop, you noticed half (if not all) of Wadsworth residents and even a few familiar faces of officers from the regiment temporarily stationed in the countryside; but, try as you might, your eyes could not set upon the countenance of Mr. Adam Wrightâwho was, probably, out at the shops, and alone.
What was this? Why was everyone here?
âForgive my lack of planning prior,â began a velvety voice you knew well; and when you turned to the sound of that voice, you were met with the face of Mr. Ryomen Sukuna, standing next to his brother. âWelcome, all, to Kendall Manor.â
It was quickly explained that this was a party, in celebration of Mr. Ryomen, who had finally returned to his home country of Wadsworth, and was planning on staying for longer than he had been gone. He wanted to make acquaintances with all the people he wouldâve known had he been here instead of at all his other estates and properties.
The guests were introduced to a large variety of pastries and biscuits and drinks and other desserts from the other counties Sukuna had been staying at previously. People asked him about what his other homes were like: if they were much different from Kendall of Wadsworth, and heâwith his usual disagreeablenessâdid not even try to act humble as he described his very prosperous and fortunate self.
There were many ladies of Wadsworth that were single, and none of them wasted any chance in practically throwing themselves at the owner of the manor. In addition, Charlotte and Helena, once standing beside you, were now off and talking with a number of officers, having a very pleasant afternoon themselves.
You, on the other hand, were not much interested in speaking about subjects such as these, and, accompanied by very few people, walked into a nearby drawing room. Though you were not much of a card-player yourself, it was, perhaps, the only source of entertainment you could find within the walls of Kendall (except for playing pianoforte, which the girls forbade you). A table for Whist was set up, and a party of four, including yourself, began to play.
For a few rounds, you thought you had found peace, but no, a thunderstorm had soon followed you all the way into the drawing room. Mr. Ryomen had come, and was accompanied by the other guests, who were all flocking to him like birds.
âShall we all play a game for more of us?â began the pink-haired gentleman. He was clearly doing this on purpose; his face told you all you needed to know: he was disturbing your peace and quiet for the simple motive of being a bother.
Of course, no one could refuse the host of such a grand party, and a much larger game table was soon set up, so that many could sit down and gamble. You had the unfortunate fate of being seated between the host, and Lady Annesley; and, although you were near at least one good relative, your aunt paid minimal attention to you, for she was seated beside Admiral Dawson, whom she was grossly engaged in conversation with.
Throughout the betting game, either your or Sukunaâs seat had been gradually inching closer to the otherâs, to the point your shoulders were practically touching, and so were your elbows, which occasionally bumped together, causing the both of you to mutter curses or complaints.
âWhy donât you move nearer to your brother, sir? I am sure it would be much appreciated,â you jeered, obviously fed up with the amount of hits you were receiving.
âCareful there, miss. Lying too much can be detrimental.â
ââLyingâ? Oh, please. There is no truth in my saying âI enjoy sitting beside youâ.â
âOf course,â laughed Sukuna, in a mocking tone. âOf course, Miss Untouchable. How could I forget? you just have a problem with everyone these days.â
â. . .â
âI wasnât at all aware, you know, that such a disagreeable woman like you existed. Though, I canât say it was unexpected; your countenance gives quite a fair hint to everyone when looking at you.â
You rolled your eyes. âI am sure the absolute same could be said about you, sir.â
âWhat a coincidence!â teased Sukuna. âI was beginning to think we had nothing in common.â
Narrowing your eyes, you stabbed the heel of your shoe onto Sukunaâs, but he let out neither a curse nor a groan of pain.
Instead, Sukuna rested his arm on the back of your chair with an overwhelming grip as he leaned his face closer to yours; and you couldâve sworn you could see the red of his eyes swirling together in a mix, as if a tornado. The tips of your noses were only centimeters apart, and you couldnât draw a line between where your breath ended and where his started even if you had to.
Your eyes met with equal resentment and agitation, as if there was a mutual message being sent from merely your locked gazes alone, but then, to your surprise, his stare drifted up to your hat.
âVarious shades of blue and green, with gold as an accent,â he noted, in a slurred tone, almost as if he was drunk.
âWell, yes. Have you never seen a peacock feather?â
âTwo of which are both colors on the cooler side of the color spectrum,â he continued, paying no mind to your words; âbut, I must say, red would suit you much better, my darling.â
Your eyes widened at the sound of this, and your gaze fell to your fidgety hands in your laps. Still, you wasted no time in quipping, âI have no doubt I would wear the color much better than you, Mr. Ryomen Sukuna.â
âI can imagine that, but I would rather see it with my own eyes,â he said, eyes trailing back down to your lips.
â. . .â
The hand that was previously draped over the back of your chair slowly but surely made its way down, until it was draped over your hip, gripping and kneading the flesh there. Your breath caught in your throat, and you turned to face Sukuna with an incredulous expression. You mouthed the words What on earth are you doing? To which, the pink-haired man only responded with Nothing you wouldnât want, my lady.
In order for the hand on your hip to not be visible, you had to scoot your chair as far away from Lady Annesley as you could, and press your body as close to Sukunaâs as you could possibly venture. The rest of the drawing room remained boisterous, and completely oblivious to the scandalous act you had going on with the partyâs host.
As his hand lowered down to the ends of your dress, and his fingers crept up your skirt, your cheeks warmed to an extreme extent, and you tugged on Sukunaâs sleeve, desperate for something you couldnât quite put your finger on. This was utterly humiliating! you thought. What was the meaning for this? And in the middle of a party?
His hands felt cold, and you frequently shivered as they moved at a dreadfully slow speed up your legs, before settling in between your thighs. If your face wasnât as red as a tomato before, it surely was now. For, you had originally thought that clamping your thighs together would be the perfect plan to get Sukuna to stop his movements, but no, it made everything altogether worse. By a thousand degrees.
His hand was stuck between your thighs, and, like the bastard he was, Mr. Ryomen Sukuna thought it would be such a fun thing to move your panties aside, and put pressure on your clit, which, consequently, resulted in you having to cover your mouth with your fan, to hide and shield the whimpers that came soon after.
âNnghh.â
His fingers then removed themselves, to which you gasped in relief, but before you could utter another word, you were interrupted by his fingers entering you once more, in a quite diligent fashion. They curled and twisted, and reached deep inside of you, but alas, you could do nothing but writhe; you couldnât bear this predicament you had gotten yourself into being exposed to the rest of the party guests, and you couldnâtâwithout feeling shameâlet it be known that the feeling of Sukunaâs fingers was rather pleasurable.
Your whole bodyâs temperature rose, and you couldnât help the moans that left your lips. This feeling was so . . . strange; you had never felt anything like this before. So overwhelming with both pain and pleasure, and incredibly scandalous. If anyone were to find out what you were doingânever mind, you need not know.
Sukunaâs lips ghosted the shell of your ear, before whispering, âDonât fight it.â
One finger, then two, and now three.
âF-Fight what?â you managed, between whimpers. âWhat are you doing?â
With your thighs still clamped together and squeezing around his hand, the pleasure of Sukunaâs fingers moving within you was highly intensified, and your expression twisted into one of embarrassing lewdness. The suddenly appeared knot in your stomach had tightened, and you had soon reached your peak only moments later, your release clinging to Sukunaâs fingers, which were still deep inside of you.
âHahh, Sukunngh,â you moaned, eyes squeezing shut as you hid your face from other guests behind your fan.
Just as you were recovering from your bodyâs physical reaction and occasional jolts, Sukunaâs voice suddenly sounded in the room, and everyone and their mother turned to face him, completely unbeknownst to the fact that his hand was still in between your legs.
You didnât hear much of what he saidâyour head still swimming, and your self dazedâbut you managed to make out a few words, where Sukuna had explained that there were numerous hallways in Kendall that were filled from top to bottom with many famous and beautiful paintings and other art works. The guests were unsurprised by this knowledge, but nonetheless, they were greatly intrigued, and as a valet of Sukunaâs led the party out of the drawing room, Sukuna sat back down (after making sure everyone had exited) and turned to you with a smug expressionânever once removing his fingers from deep within you.
âSukuna,â you mewled, nearly going crazy at the realization that the man would probably never run out of stamina to finger you, âwhat are you doing?â
Whilst grinning like a mad man, Sukuna pulled you onto his lap within the blink of an eye, which resulted in your back being flush with his hard chest. Beyond shocked, you gasped, but before you could get out another word, you felt the tickling sensation of lips dragging down your clavicle and shoulders, peppering kisses on several moles and freckles you had there.
There was a growing warmth in your core, and though you writhed and wriggled in his grasps, you couldnât help but (after a few moments) finally succumb to his touches and caresses. A sigh left your lips, and you leaned back against the body behind you.
âSukuna, Iâahh, w-why?â
Just as you were beginning to relax, Sukuna removed his hand from between your legs and, with the assistance of his other hand, pulled the top of your dress down, leaving the bare skin of your chest revealed to the empty drawing room and cool air.Â
âYouâre so beautiful, my lady,â he slurred, eyes glued to your exposed tits.
Without wasting a moment, Sukuna began to pull and twist and press at your nipples, which were beginning to harden at his assaults. Your back arched, and you let out an embarrassingly loud moan at the unfamiliar feeling of pleasure. This was totally erotic! you thought, though you did nothing to stop it. As your nipples were carelessly toyed with to Sukunaâs content, your body twisted and squirmed all the while, but to no avail.
As if a child playing with a new toy for the first time, Sukuna squeezed and squeezed at the wholes of your tits, admiring the way your buds pebbled at the attention they were receiving. Your legs kicked at nothing, and you thrashed around wildly; and, if things couldnât get more lewd, you felt the sensation of a warm, wet tongue lick a stripe up your neck.
Pornographic moans, whimpers, and cries filled the empty drawing room, and you couldnât even imagine the looks on peopleâs faces if they returned from the gallery early.
âNnghh! Ahâahâahh! Sukuna!â You panted, delirious.
âMmm, thatâs it, sweetheart,â said Sukuna, as he kissed and nipped at your throat. âDonât hold back; just let out all your cute little noises for me.â
The hands which groped at your breast soon paused in their assaults, and as you began to catch your breath, you felt them gradually slide down the curves of your body, all the way to your thighs, where they hiked up the material of your skirt, pulling it up to your stomach, which left your panties and dignity exposed.
â. . .Sukuna?â You blinked.
âHa! Youâve become so wet just from my hands alone, that I think it would be no trouble at all for you to take my cock right about . . . now.â
âWhatâoh! Mmph!â
Apparently, Mr. Ryomen Sukuna had a major problem with cutting people off, because, just as you were about to ask what he very well meant by that, your hips were tightly gripped onto, your body was raised, and you cried out as you were soon slammed back down onto Sukunaâs cock. All the words in your throat had been swallowed, and your brain turned to mush as you felt so utterly full from his girth and length alone; it was so . . . big. You had never done anything as insane as this, and as moans and cries left your lips left and right, you couldnât distinguish whether you felt more pain or pleasure.
Your eyes fluttered shut, and your face twisted into that of incredible lewdness; your hands gripped onto Sukunaâs biceps, and your nails dug into his muscles, surely leaving crescent-shaped marks in the way.
âShit, gorgeous,â he groaned. âYouâre so tight. Ever been fucked before?â
âNnghh, n-no. . . No!â
âThatâs. . . Fuck. You mean Iâm the first one to touch you like this?â
Sukuna gripped and groped onto your tits as he spoke, before raising up your hips and slamming them back down just like before. One second, you were empty, the next, you were so impossibly full, and then so on and so forth. As Sukuna repeated this for God knows how long, you nearly passed out from the overwhelming pleasure you felt everywhere. From the calloused hands on your hips, to the length of his cock sliding in and out and up and down your walls, to the warm breath fanning your ear. It was all so much.
You had never known pleasure like this before, and you wondered if this was but a dream.
As you rolled your hips, trying desperately for more friction, you were stopped by the feeling of two hands gripping onto the meat of your hips with a strength that was sure to result in bruising the next morrow.
âWhy do you move, darling?â Sukuna leaned down to whisper in your ear, and a shiver ran down your spine. âIâve got you right where I want you.â
Whilst you bounced sensuously on his lap, Sukuna didnât show an ounce of shame as he stared with incredible lust at the sight of your tits bouncing up and down. The tip of his cock penetrated you in places you didnât even know existed until now, and you couldnât help the plethora of moans that left your lips.Â
Just as before, the knot in your stomach tightened to an unbearable height, and with one last rough thrust, you came right on Sukunaâs cock; your bodily fluids dripping down his shaft and leaving a sticky feeling between your thighs as they dried.
âSo?â began Sukuna, bringing you out of your dazed state.
In confusion, your brows knitted together. âIâI beg your pardon?â
âHow was it?â
âHow was . . . what?â
You could hear Sukuna scoff from behind you. âAre you that dense, my dear lady? Or have you already forgotten what we haveâmind youâjust done?â
â. . .Iâm afraid my memory is not as sufficient as oneâs might be,â you teased, despite yourself.
The corner of Sukunaâs lip quirked upwards, into a grin, as a mischievous expression made its way onto his face. âShall we refresh your memory, then?â
âHow so?â
With his cock still buried deep inside of you to the hilt, Sukuna stood up and moved your bodies in tandem until he was able to lay the top half of your body on the drawing roomâs table. Your bare tits pressed up against the rough wood, and you groaned in relief as you laid the side of your face down.
Unfortunately (or fortunately) for you, Sukuna had no even the slightest idea of relaxing on his mind, and as the lids of your eyes began to droop, Sukuna woke you straight up with a hard thrust inside your cunt, which slightly shook the table and resulted in a rather unpleasant sound reverberating throughout the living space.
This, completely, caught you off guard, and the scream that left your throat was to be expected. âAhh! Iâhahh.â
Your back arched, your hair was pulled towards Sukuna, your neck soon began to ache; you saw stars as Sukuna continued his thrusts from before with more (if not the same amount of) force, and you wondered if the walls were thin enough for servants or party guests to hear you from all the way down the hall.
Maybe it was ridiculous, maybe it was not, but as Sukunaâs cock continued to fill you to the hilt, you couldâve sworn you felt him in your guts. Callings of his name, moans of gibberish, and et cetera, left your lips as if in a prayer to God. You panted, you gasped, and your breath got caught in your throat as the table rocked beneath your and Sukunaâs weight.
If not for his stable grip on your hips, you wouldâve fallen and crashed to the floor from how your knees buckled and turned to seemingly nothingness.
âHas your memory been refreshed, my lady?â began Sukuna, in a jeering tone.
âIânnghh, not . . . not quite.â Though you were barley conscious at this point, and pleasure nearly consumed your whole being, you couldnât help but joke. However, as the speed and force of Sukunaâs thrusts began to increase, you soon found yourself thinking how foolish it was to joke in such a predicament.
âYeah? How about now?â
Both hands on your hips had left, and instead found their way to your tits, where they groped and squeezed to Sukunaâs liking.
This may have been your breaking point; and as your back arched and the volume of your lewd cries increased, you found yourself grinding your ass back against Sukunaâs crotch. The extra friction brought you over the edge, and you moaned and moaned like a bitch in heat as you came once more.
You didnât remember much of what came after that (A/N: pun intended), but you knew you had somehow managed to dress yourself and fix your disheveled appearance right as soon as half of the party returned to the drawing room. Whilst the guests drank in the sight of you, Sukuna, on the other hand, had fixed his pants, and casually seated himself on his chair.
âOh, my niece,â exclaimed a bewildered Lady Annesley, âyou are already here.â
You stopped like a deer in front of a carriage driverâs torch, and stuttered as you struggled for an answer. âYes, IâI quickly lost interest while looking at the artwork, and decided to return here to play another game of cards.â
âSo you say? Well, upon my word, what card game did you play that resulted in your countenance to glow so pleasantly as it does now?â
For a second, you had thought your aunt had somehow discovered what you and Mr. Ryomen Sukuna were getting up to whilst alone in the drawing room, but after a momentâs silence, you quickly realized she was being genuine, and, like her usual chaotic-self, was simply wondering about a possible new skincare routine. At this newfound conclusion, you let out a sigh of relief, and continued in conversation for the remaining duration of the party at Kendall.
However, at the back of your mind remained the still recent memory of what it was like to have your brains fucked out by none other than Mr. Ryomen Sukuna, who, whilst he pretended to linger around your being while you chatted with relatives, occasionally trailed a playful finger up your spine, which always resulted in your breath being caught in your throat, as you feared he would do something similar to what he did before the guests had left.
***
It was lateâwell into the evening, reallyâwhen a messenger on his horse had come by with mail in his inventory.
A fortnight had passed since that . . . incident in Kendall Manorâs drawing room, and you had been avoiding Sukuna ever since. You feared that if you did otherwise, you would begin to develop an unhealthy relationship with his cock, which, even after fourteen days, you had not forgotten the feeling of. It was strange, to say the least. At first, you had thought Sukuna to be a very disagreeable man, a very disagreeable man, indeed; but now, he was . . . well, no, he was the same, but his dick, on the other hand, was much more agreeable.
You had never thought yourself to be one to have sexual intercourse before marriage, but maybe there could be an exception for someone like Mr. Ryomen Sukuna.
Sometimes, you laid awake at night, at times past the Devilâs hour, you assumed, and tossed and turned and tried to replicate how Sukunaâs fingers felt, how his mouth made you feel, how full his cock made you, but to no avail. You would, eventually, scream into your pillow out of frustration, and pass out from exhaustion.
Damn him. Damn him and his whole entire lineage.
Who was he to make you feel this way, huh? Who was he to come waltzing into Wadsworth with his expensive little steed and expensive fucking clothes, and leave you high and dry? Who was he to spoil you for your future spouse? He had no right, absolutely none.
And so, when a messenger and his horse came to the doors of Blackwood Park, you could probably imagine the distress and anxiety you had suffered. All the color had been drained from your face, for you wondered if a letter had come from Mr. Ryomen Sukuna himself; your mother and your father had even noticed how pale you had gotten, and, in their worry, asked you how you felt, to which you replied with a short answer, but it contained everything but the truth.
Upon reading the label, you found the manilla paper to be addressed to none other than you. Even more horrified, you searched frantically for a name, and after reading the words Mr. Adam Wright, you seemed to calm down by a few degrees.
âOpen it, cousin! Open it!â cried Helena; for the girls had been at Blackwood since sundown, and were planning on sleeping over, which was, actually, pretty common between the three of you.
âShall I have no privacy even in my own home?â you joked.
The girls laughed, before exiting your room and running downstairs.
With a sigh, and a tired groan, you began to unravel the letter.
To your astonishment, it was almost four pages! Four pages, filled from top to bottom with a confession of . . . love✠Loveâfrom Mr. Adam Wright? What, in heavenâs name, couldâve produced such a feeling as this? you wondered. Sure, maybe you had flirted with the officer a few times, but it was only minor incidents, and you had done them with the imagination that nothing could come of it. But no, you couldnât have been more wrong.
Mr. Adam Wright was in love with you.
In his letter, he frequently quoted phrases from your favorite books and epics, but none of them seemed to affect you more than with distraught and horror. He confessed he was too much of a coward to profess his love in person, and, in addition, claimed he could not say all that he felt for you, for he felt too much to say, and writing it down was as close as he could get to letting everything out.
He was in love with your laugh, your smile, your mind, and your soul.
âI have never conversed with a lady quite as charming as you, miss. Your character is incredibly suitable to my likes and my dislikes, and I find, if I had never met you, I would have never met the love of my life. You bewitch me, physically and mentally.â
You had to admit, he was quite poetic when it came to writing a confession of love and admiration, but it pained you more than it flattered you, for, you did not feel even an ounce of the same feeling. Guilt and regret plagued your mind as you read through the seemingly never-ending paragraphs, and yet, you could not and would not accept that someone such as Mr. Adam Wright was in love with you.
It seemed . . . preposterous.
You had never thought of him in that way whatsoever. Well, he was handsome, and he was smart and quite the agreeable man, but he wasnât what you wanted. There had to be someone out there that would reciprocate his feelings, but it wouldnât be you. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.
After reading the letter maybe three times (just to make sure your eyes werenât deceiving you), you sat down for a moment of silence, before opening your door and calling for the girls. Upon their entering, you immediately explained the contents of the letter, and, with a very desperate tone of voice, pleaded for any advice they could give.
âWell, this is. . . Iâm quite appalled, dear cousin,â began Charlotte; âbut, just to be clear, you do not feel the same way?â
âIâm not sure I would be asking for advice if I did.â You laughed, trying to cope with humor.
âI, for one, think you should send a letter back,â suggested Helena.
â. . .You know, I would do that, actually, but, the thing is, Wright wants to see me.â
Both of the sisters asked what you meant by that.
âIn his letter, towards the end of it, I am sure, he asks to see me, near Northwick. I assume he means he wants to propose on the bridge; we walked there once, you see.â
âAnd you did not think to tell us until now?â cried Helena.
You raised your hands in defense. âHey, I didnât think much of it.â
âThis is quite the predicament youâve gotten yourself into,â declared Charlotte.
And this was quite the predicament, indeed. The next morning, a little after breakfast, you had begun to walk to Northwick. And, upon reaching sight of the bridge, you had found that Mr. Adam Wright was already there. He looked confident, he looked sure, he looked sharp; which just made you twice as guilty.
Before arriving, you had assured yourself everything was going to be just dandy; you would get it over with as quick as possible, and then attend the play you had been invited to by a couple of friends. The proposal of Mr. Adam Wright would be soon forgotten about, and you would sing and dance and be merry for the rest of the day.
âMy lady, how do you do?â Wright was always quick when it came to greeting you. âI assume youâve received my letter?â
âI am quite fine this morning, sir; and yes.â
âHave you any response?â
You nodded, before saying, âI am . . . rather flattered to receive a proposal from such a man as you, Mr. Adam Wright, but I am afraid I cannot give you my hand in marriage.â
You had consequently explained your reasoning, and how you did not reciprocate any romantic feelings such as love towards Mr. Wright, who accepted your words with a very solemn expression. That was a nice quality of his: to be able to accept rejection, and you even noted how you thought he was a very agreeable man, who was sure to find a wife sooner or later.
âThere are many balls that occur in Wadsworth, with many women who attend, but, if that fails, an itinerant profession such as yours indubitably has the aspects to acquire a spouse within a lifetimeâyes, I am sure.â
âI see you do not accept my proposal, then; very well. Good morning, miss.â
With the tipping of his hat, and a very quick farewell, the two of you parted ways.
A few hours had come by after your declination, and you soon found yourself standing outside of Grantley Hall with Charlotte and Helena, Lady Annesley, a few other relatives and friends, and Mr. Ryomen Sukuna and his brother. You hadnât expected to see either of them any time soon, but maybe your aunt was just very sociable, and considered them to be friends.
Upon noticing Sukunaâs face amongst the crowd, you immediately ducked away, and subtly hid yourself behind your aunt, who was taller and broader than you, and could serve as a pseudo-shield, but of course, your efforts were noticed and fruitless, in the end.
Sukuna had caught sight of your figure, and made eye contact with you for a relatively long time, before turning back to a conversation with his brother.
âEveryone seems to be here,â began your aunt, double-checking the party; âhow about we begin our journey? The theater is quite far, I heard.â
And so, everyone had started to pile into a multitude of carriages and vehicles. Unfortunately, with such a large party as you were in, you obviously had the luck of being stuck with none other than the Devil himselfâMr. Ryomen Sukuna. There was no other room for you with anyone else you knew; you had received offers to switch seats, but due to your having taken a liking to rejecting people (A/N: this is a joke; please laugh), you had declined them all.
In consequence, you and Sukuna were forced to ride in a carriageâalone.
The cushions were small, and you were forced to acquire a seat right beside Sukuna. Your shoulders bumped occasionally, due to the jolts of the carriage and the bumpy road, but that was about it. You were neither squished nor totally uncomfortable. And, at first, it was quite pleasant, actually. Neither you nor Sukuna spoke much, due to your embarrassment, and his . . . indifference? so you had no reason to stutter or stumble over words. Well, that was, until Sukuna decided to bring up a certain someone into the conversation.
âIt seems you have taken quite the partiality towards Wright,â he began; and you could practically feel his piercing stare burning holes through your head, but alas, you kept your eyes on the road, and avoided eye contactâwhich was beginning to prove to be quite the challenge.
âWe are acquaintances.â
âJust acquaintances?â
You sighed. âIt depends on how you define the word âacquaintance,â I suppose.â
âYou know, my lady, I have heard quite a rumor this morningâregarding you and that officer.â
You froze, an infinite amount of ideas popping into your head, before snapping your neck to meet Sukunaâs much amused ones. âPray, have you any idea how rude it is to bring up a subject without elaborating,? You, sir, ought to explain further.â
Sukuna, ignoring your words, cast his eyes downward, saying, âShow me your hand,â with as less emotion and as much authority as humanly possible.
Perhaps in an act of childish rebellion, you covered your gloved hands, and put them aside. âI do not see how that is of any relevance.â
âWhat a coincidence; I do.â Scoffing, Sukuna took your left hand into his, and held it up to his face, completely disregarding your protests and fruitless attempts at flailing around.
When he found what he wanted, he placed your hand down, and looked at your pout with a smug expression. âI take it you are not engaged, then?â
âIâve no ring,â came your curt reply, before crossing your arms over your chest. You had initially hoped to fool him for even a bit longer, but Sukuna was more resourceful (forceful) than you could admit.
Sukuna laughed. âMiss Untouchable refused Mr. Adam Wright? What a spectacle that surely was. Say, the next time you reject a proposal, let me know prior so I can sit and watch.â
âWhen Hell freezes over, I will.â
Leaning over to peer into your eyes, Sukuna offered a shit-eating grin. âYou can be so rude, my fair lady.â
Finally meeting his eyes at last, you couldnât help the abusing words that soon left your lips. âYou call me ârude,â I hear? That is how you think of me? What about yourself, then, sir? Is the way you treat a lady such as I any different than ârude,â I wonder?â
Sukuna grabbed your hips and dragged you onto his lap as you continued to berate and rip at him whilst he remained totally unfazed. He had become used to your character at this point, and your insults and scolding merely droned on in the background as his mind was set on other things.
âHow else am I rude, madam?â
âWhen youâWhen you. . .â You paused, averting eye contact. âWhen you make me feel . . . this way.â
âAnd, pray tell,â began Sukuna, as he grabbed your chin and forced you to look in his eye, âwhat way do I make you feel?â
You chewed at your bottom lip, and out of frustration, could not form much to say.
When Sukuna noticed your hesitance, and your embarrassment, he decided to take matters into his own hands, and as a smile began to etch on his face, he lifted the ends of your dress, piling it at your waist, before beginning to trail his hands up your bare thighs at a teasingly unbearable speed.
At the familiar act, your breath caught in your throat, and you clawed at the lapels of Sukunaâs coat jacket.
Without stopping for even a beat, Sukunaâs cold, slender fingers made their way up your thighs, and began to ghost over the wetness that had formed at your entrance.
âMy, my, my, donât tell me, was it your anger at me that got you so wet, or was it my mere showing up today?â
âNeither, you bastard.â
As if possessed by an entity, (or maybe it was because you just couldnât take it anymore), you grabbed Sukuna by the collar, and roughlyâand clumsilyâsmashed his lips against yours. Almost immediately, his hands squeezed and groped at your ass, as he met your lips with an almost equally fervent kiss.
You had never done something so deliberately and scandalous before (except for that evening at Kendall, but that doesnât count), and you almost wondered if you were doing everything wrong. But, seeing as you could feel a growing hardness beneath your bottom, you were soon assured of your quite capable abilities.
âFuck, darling. Have you been waiting to do this?â he murmured, between kisses.
âMm, yeahâin your dreams.â
Your bodies moved in sync, as if two puzzle pieces designed just for each other, and sounds of sensuous and sensual activity soon began to fill the carriage. Sukunaâs hands trailed down your ass as you kissed, and he didnât waste any time before shoving your panties aside, and pushing one, then two, fingers in.
The unexpected action elicited a moan from your lips, and you tugged and pulled at Sukunaâs hair as if searching for leverage against the assault between your legs.
His fingers curled within you and moved at a speed that accelerated every second; the painful realization had soon hit you, that, God, you had truly missed this feeling. Slick dripped down your legs, and was, probably, staining the material of Sukunaâs pants, but it wasnât like either one of you cared.
One of Sukunaâs hands gripped onto the flesh of your ass, while the other toyed with and fingered your dripping cunt; his lips moved against yours like an animal in heat, whilst your arms had been thrown and looped around his neck. The carriage shook and wobbled as it traversed the uneven roads, and that pushed you even closer to Sukuna, leaving you in quite the scandalous positionâwith your tits pressed up against his chest, your hands tangled in his unruly hair, and his mouth on yours.
It was a missed feelingâthe salty taste of his lipsâand when the both of you parted, for the inconvenient sake of catching your breaths, Sukuna moved the hand on your ass to shove the top of your dress down to your waist, leaving you nearly bare: in all your gloryâjust for him.
His eyes roamed your body like a predator admiring prey, and while you leaned your front against him, Sukuna leaned his head down, to your shoulders, to kiss at and suck at all the exposed skin he could reach.
It was incredibly lewdâthe sounds you released, and you couldnât even fathom how the others would react if they saw you: you and Sukuna, doing whatever the hell it was that you two were doing at the moment.
As your volume increased, so did the speed and velocity of his fingers. There was a warm feeling at your core, and you soon found yourself releasing all over his handâstill deep within your cuntâas pornographic moans and cries and mewls escaped your throat.
âNnghh! Hah, mphh, Sukuna . . . SukunaâSukuna!â His name left your lips like a prayer, and you could only hope that the pearly gates would still open for you after this hell of a carriage ride.
âYou are . . . inimitable, my love,â he purred, âand extremely, inhumanly bewitching. Fuck, do you think youâre wet enough to take it? I am afraid I cannot loiter any longer.â
It didnât matter what you thought; you knew you were, and as Sukuna lifted your hips, before bringing them down right onto his cockâwhich filled you to the brim, and impossibly more than last timeâyou knew this carriage ride would probably be your last. At least, it would be your last carriage ride with him.
Your hips were raised, before they were repeatedly slammed back down with enough force to bring the both of you crashing down onto the seats; your tits bounced, whimpers left your parched throat, and you could barely hold onto Sukunaâs shoulders for balance and support as the carriage began to jolt and jerk uncontrollably, causing unbearably pleasurable friction.
Heavenâs sake, how bumpy was this road?âgoddamnit.
In addition to the bouncing of the carriage, the hands and claws digging into your ass, the marks and bites being left on your chest, there was also the rough thrusts from Sukuna, which brought you nearly over the edge. Your eyes rolled back into your head as the tip of Sukunaâs cock could be felt penetrating all the way in your guts, and to add on to the smell of sex wafting through the humid air, the discordant melody of your moans certainly added a little bit pizzazz.
You wanted more, you needed more, you craved more.
Sukunaâs length and girth slid up the walls of your cunt, and you swore you could feel every pulsing vein of his cock as it moved and twitched. You were so unbearably full; you struggled to form full words, and most of them only contributed to unintelligible sentences meaning nothing.
âAhh, nnghh, hahh, mmph.â
âWhat, donât tell me little Miss Untouchable over here is suddenly feeling pleasure from some low-life bastard such as I,â laughed Sukuna, who, for some reason unbeknownst to you, still had some humor left in him even whilst he had fucked you into putty in his hands.
âI . . . nnghh, do you ever stop talking?â
Sukuna laughed, a husky, dark laugh, before bringing you in for the most zealous kiss you had ever kissed. Your lips collided, smacking against each otherâs, and your hands clumsily roamed each otherâs bodies, before one last jolt of the carriage had you feeling every inch of Sukunaâs length in the absolute right-est spot you could ever imagine, and as you moaned into the kiss, the knot in your stomach tightened just as before, and you almost felt like you were under drugs as you came.Â
Sticky, hot, and warm.
Unbearable, highly bothersome, and completely insane.
You were filled to the brim with Sukunaâs seed just a moment later, and a string of saliva from your lips connected you and Sukuna for a few seconds more as the both of you pulled away to catch your breaths.
âNow, before I go and do something foolish,â began Sukuna, still partially panting, âtell me, dear, do you feel like rejecting another manâs proposal today?â
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my weekend writing goals !
finish writing cookbook submission & schedule for december
write firefighter!toji & firefighter!sukuna fic
write 1-2k words of fanboy!choso
write 250-500 words of freaky friday: chapter two
#( đïž ) : notepad.#i finished writing the fluff portion of my submission so its basically just the smut now YUHHHH
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Stand with us in these difficult moments in our lives đđżđ”đž
Me and my small family (old mother, wife and little daughter) are trying to survive the blockade and the bombs.
This is not an evacuation fundraiser but rather a fund to pay for basic goods such as water, which has quadrupled in price since October, and food, which is being sold at exhorbitant prices.
Gofund link:
PayPal link:
I used to be an accountant at a very successful restaurant in Gaza (Italianoo đ)
which has since been bombed and destroyed, and the owners of the restaurant were killed.
It is devastating to see everything you worked so hard for and everyone involved with it vanish in the blink of an eye. It is even harder to struggle to survive after it.
Please do not hesitate to help Hatem and his family !
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Hi, I'm Noha from Gaza đ”đžđ
I am trying to save my family of 17 and evacuate them from the genocide in Gaza.
Your support is our only hope for survival after losing everything.
We hope you will continue to support us by donating or sharing to help save and rebuild lives of 17 of my family. Every contribution matters, much appreciated
I write to you with a heavy heart, I have lost the dearest people in my life, my son and his father, and I live in constant fear of losing the rest of my family.
My brother is paralyzed and my mother has cancer and needs treatment.
I am reaching out to you, hoping that you can be a support for my family in this difficult time.
I have great hope that this appeal will resonate in your hearts.
I would be honored if you would take a minute of your time and read our story and help me spread our campaign by Reblog my posts with your comment and asking everyone to Reblog it and donate to whoever can.
Our campaign is already verified by operation Olive Branch line 78
https://tr.ee/RsSeUJn83H
gofund.me/ff0009e2
donate đ !!
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iâm seeing you topaz. đđ
smirks
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âËâč á„«áĄ. THE COOKBOOK !
as spooky season comes to a close and the weather starts to get chillier, other holidays start creeping closer. families get together and romance continues to blossom. and you know what keeps the bond tight and together? food.
they say food brings people together, so why not use it to help build a romantic rapport as the holiday seasons grow near? we believe that food helps build an everlasting relationship and want you all to share your story on how one dish help created a bond between you and your partner.
( collaboration information. ) availability: november 2024 - january 2025, open to multiple fandoms & multiple submissions, read below for more rules.
this collaboration revolves around food! you are to choose a recipe or food of your choice, and write a fic of any genre as long as it ties along together with your dish. recipes cannot be repeated!
we are open to (n)sfw & dark content! however, please note down your warnings in the beginning of the fic.
your submission must be a minimum of 500 words, but there is no maximum to what you write. bring in the long fics if you want, baby! also, please add a 'read more' to your submission.
diversify the characters you write for! characters can only be repeated twice, so hurry up with your submission if you want to claim someone quickly.
this collaboration is open to any fandom that you want to write for, whether it's for a television show/movie, animanga, otome games, etc. and don't be afraid to submit more than one fic! a thick cookbook is beautiful.
this collaboration is open from november 2024 to january 2025. the deadline to join is november 30, 2024 and the deadline for your fic is january 31, 2025. if your submission is late, please message me in regards to it beforehand!
when joining, please make sure you list down the character, fandom, content rating and your recipe. (i.e. "hello! i'd love to join your collaboration. it looks so cool! i want to do gojo satoru from jujutsu kaisen. it's going to be nsfw and the recipe's going to be churros.")
when posting your fic, please link this post and add the tag #wikicollabs:cookbook tag me, so that i can get a notification and add your submission to the master list.
for further questions, feel free to send an ask or message me!
THE COOKBOOK INDEX.
** sorted by fandom & further alphabetized. đ„ź indicates sfw content, đ¶ïž indicates (n)sfw content & đ· indicates dark content.
âËâč á„«áĄ. HAIKYUU.
đ„ź âââââ a recipe for oxtail, uploaded by @cuntdevil ( miya atsumu ).
âËâč á„«áĄ. JUJUTSU KAISEN.
đ„ź âââââ a recipe for smores, uploaded by @kodaiki ( sukuna ryomen ).
đ¶ âââââ a recipe for (christmas) cookies, uploaded by @fushitoru ( gojo satoru ).
đ¶ âââââ a recipe for bread, uploaded by @fushitoru ( nanami kento ).
đ¶ âââââ a recipe for chocolate chip cookies, uploaded by @toadtoru ( kamo choso ).
đ¶ âââââ a recipe for a gingerbread house, uploaded by @cuntdevil ( nanami kento ). đ¶ âââââ a recipe for red velvet brownies, uploaded by @getoslamb ( geto suguru ).
đ¶ âââââ a recipe for strawberry cheesecake, uploaded by @arsinary ( sukuna ryomen ).
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de-stress
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â©â©:â©â© âą GRIM REAPER!TOJI FUSHIGURO
It was a gruesome sight to die to â an eight-foot skeleton wearing a black robe and silver scythe hanging off of its right shoulder. Towering over your body as you fell in mud, the wet dirt splattered all over you as you screamed into the deadly woods. But pain never came, not like the plunging of said gruesome creatureâs cock deep inside of you.Â
From his very brief explanation, youâve come to learn that Death himself has another name to himâ Fushiguro Toji. And when he takes off the daunting hood of his cloak, heâs not as menacing as he appears. While heâs still intimidating, his human form is palatable to the eyes. His broad built an enticing sight when he coaxed you to sit on his lap, black hair that covered his forehead as he sat back in his seat, transporting you, your ghost form, to his quartersâ a shabby room that resembled too much like the human realm where life resided. But how could you care about that when the exact personification of Death had you writhing on his cock?Â
Your head falls to his shoulders, making him tsk again as he forces you back up straight. One veiny strong arm wrapped around your waist, controlling your movements as your body bounced up and down, skin slapping against skin as Toji found the sight of your breasts jiggling mouth-watering. But, you poor, disobedient little thingâ you refused to look him in the eye. What is this? The third time your eyes have fallen astray?
âHey, hey,â his deep voice reverberated against his chest. Two fingersâ his middle and indexâ tap at your face, lolling your head upward as your watery-eyes looked at him once more. âLook at me, doll. Look Death in his face when heâs fucking you.â
And despite the drilling of his cock, how he has your insides churning as he batters at your poor pussy, you find yourself willing to retort. Your mewls are high-pitched and whiny, and he finds them a cute melody to his ears when you open your mouth in an attempt to say something. âY-you⊠You say this to all the girls you use?â
Your fingernails dig into his clavicle, sharp but never pain-inducing to the immortal, he chuckles as he watches how much effort it took for you to say. Both hands back on your waist, he uses more force and pulls out a cry from your lips when his thick cock hits your g-spot. Your bottom lip trembles as wanton moans leave you.Â
"Only the pretty ones that let me."
wiki statistics _ 438 words , smut , toji fushiguro.
( author's note. ) might write something more fleshed out for this idea in the future, but for now, take my crumbs. happy halloween !
#third time but i realized there was another mistake and it was going to bother me...#( srb. )#( icymi. )
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Hi please donât skip me đđ
Hello my friend i am Mohammed awad from gaza i am a 22 years old i am making this link with my hope that it will help me and my family to evacuate from gaza đđ„č
Your help can save 9 members of my family and even 10 $ can make a difference đ
This is my link i hope you can help me because l really need that đâŒïž
https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-mohammed-awads-family-evacuate-gaza
donate đ !!
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thanks for your sacrifice, i got it đââïž
your welcome, babes !!
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life is painful but women are hot
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what if i said if toji were to scratch his balls with his gun i'd steal it and sniff the fuck out of it?
also happy halloween topaz! đâ€ïž
as someone that wants to sniff tf out of nanami's and sukuna's armpit hair, i support. toji would so do that too. like the sight is so hot omg... happy halloween ravenous raven đ !!
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i am saying this one more time. you are responsible for the kind of fics you read. if dark content is not your cup of tea, do not read it. don't fucking police others on what to read and write especially slapping like ten fandom tags on your discourse post.
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đđđ'đ đđđđđ | SATORU GOJO, SUKUNA RYOMEN
part of my kinktober | masterlist
your sweet sweet boyfriend just wants you to feel good... or does he just want to watch you feel good?
pairing: satoru gojo x fem! reader x sukuna ryomen contents: cuckolding, degradation, established relationship between sukuna and reader, technically no spoilers but i make up my own ending to jjk so read at your own risk, threesome, p in v, anal, creampie, petnames (princess, baby), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, it's mostly just sukuna and satoru who degrade each other, gay things happen wordcount: 2.1k
Youâve gone starry-eyed a while ago. Big round eyes, and your mouth slightly agape as you look up at him with tear-stained cheeks, little gasps leaving you whenever he bottoms out and his leaky tip nudges your cervix. Satoru Gojoâs got you in a mating press. A mean one at that, big hands digging into the back of your thighs and making it hard for you to breathe while your feet dig into his back.Â
Your breath hitches, and Satoru chuckles.Â
âBreathe, baby, breathe,â he says against your lips, placing a peck there before he pulls away and grins at the man sitting mere feet away from you.Â
Your boyfriend, Sukuna Ryomen, is fuming. He glares daggers at Satoru, who merely returns it with a satisfied smile. Heâs utterly pussy drunk and completely unable to sense the incoming danger as he drags his cock in and out of your sensitive walls, making you mewl with each thrust. Sweat clings along his forehead, and pink dusts his cheeks. He looks like a god. Youâd be enamoured if it didnât feel like he was trying to carve himself a place inside of you.Â
Youâre delirious. Satoru started out by fingering you nice and slow, then he ate you out for what felt like hours, till you were trembling and begging for mercy. And now youâre being split open on his cock, his pelvis mean against your thighs as he makes you see stars.Â
Whatâs even more surprising to you is Sukuna. The curse has been sitting unbelievably pliant in the chair Satoru sat out for him, his hands spread out on his thighs, refusing to touch the bulge in his pants. Red eyes glare daggers into the sorcerer above you, though every time he looks at you, his gaze seems to soften. If thatâs even possible.Â
Itâs been three years. Three years since this thing started, three years since Yuji convinced Sukuna to start over and try to live a normal life. Whatever that is.Â
You and Satoru were tasked with helping teach him the ropes of things. Moreso, Satoru was chosen to make sure Sukuna didnât decide to go on a murder rampage again, and you were chosen to show him more normal things. Like empathy. And how to order coffee without threatening to murder the cashier.Â
You didnât mean to fall in love with him. And youâd never thought that Sukuna could love you back. Except he did; in fact, youâve come to find that Sukuna loves with his whole being. Itâs almost like being swallowed up by him. Suddenly heâs everywhere, always with a big tattooed hand on the small of your back or with his giant shadow behind you.Â
You never thought heâd share.Â
But Satoru Gojo is a charmer. And he always gets what he wants.Â
âShould I show you how to fuck your girl?âÂ
It was a stupid suggestion. You expected Sukuna to try to murder Satoru or at least blast him out of the building. Maybe itâs some sort of remaining insecurity; maybe itâs the knowledge that even if he spends the next thousand years working for Jujutsu society, it might never be quite enough to repent.Â
âDo you want to?âÂ
âIâd do anything for you.âÂ
Nevertheless, youâre here. And youâre fucked out of your mind. Sukunaâs cock might be thick, but Satoruâs is long. So fucking long, you feel like heâs in your throat. You can hardly keep your eyes focused on anything, not with the way they keep rolling to the back of your head nor the way your lash line is filled with tears.Â
Itâs too damn good.Â
Your legs are jelly, and your cunt is spent, filled to the brim with cock and cum. Youâve lost count of how many times youâve orgasmed, whether itâs by Satoruâs fingers, tongue, or dick, and all you feel is ecstasy.Â
âFuck, youâre tight." Satoruâs voice is whiny, and he bites his lower lip to stop himself from moaning. âDoes she always get like this?â he asks, glancing at your boyfriend. Sukuna scowls and his hands dig further into his thighs.Â
You do get like this with him too. Youâre such a sweet, sensitive thing, always reactive to his touches. But there is something different about you when youâre with Gojo. Maybe itâs the way he leans down and whispers sweet nothings into your ear; maybe itâs the way he calls you his good girl. Sukuna loads the way the words spill so easily from Gojoâs lips, like honey and cider.Â
Sukuna isnât a talker.Â
Satoru huffs and turns your head to the side so you can look at your boyfriend.Â
âTell me, princess, does your boyfriend not fuck you properly?âÂ
âHe does,â you gasp, and the corners of Sukunaâs lips twitch upwards. âHeâs so good, always so good,â your voice cracks and Satoru frowns. He leans down, pressing his sweaty body against yours; his hips grow meaner. Satisfaction fills him when he feels your nails rake down his back, creating red marks, and he feels the way your cunt tightens around him.Â
âGonna come again?â He huffs, and you cry out.Â
âYes, fuck, âm gonna come, so close, pleaseââ
Youâre so sweet. Satoru canât not give you what you want. But he still looks at Sukuna.Â
âWhat do you think? Think she deserves to come?â
Sukuna grunts and Satoru slows his pace, his cock dragging torturously slow.Â
âCome on, big guy. Donât you wanna see your girl come on another manâs cock? Iâm here to show you how to do it after all, arenât I?â
Sukuna scowls.Â
âDonât push your luck, sorcerer,â he replies, and you cry out, reaching a hand out for him.Â
âPlease, Kuna, wanna come so bad,â you say, and Sukuna sighs. His cock hurts. Heâs spoilt you too much, clearly, because youâve come so much already, and yet you still want more.Â
âYeah, Kuna,â the nickname rolls off Gojoâs tongue, and Sukuna canât tell if heâs being mocked. âDonât leave her hanging.âÂ
Itâs like something out of a painting. You and Gojo on the bed you usually share with him, with your shaky hand reaching towards him and Gojo on top of you.
Sukuna realises he needs to show Gojo just how good he fucks you.
Which is why he stands up from his appointed cuck-chair and slips off his boxers and shirt quickly. His red, hard cock slaps against his stomach, and youâre not sure if itâs you or Satoru who gasps. Itâs all too quick for you to comprehend, because suddenly your boyfriend is behind Satoru, and Satoruâs mouth falls agape, as the sluttiest moan youâve ever heard slips from his tongue and his back arches into you.Â
You blink at your boyfriend as he leans over Satoruâs shaking body and kisses you. He claims you, swallowing up your moans as Satoru buries his face in the crook of your neck. His cock is pushed further into you, and you realise that Sukuna is fucking Satoru from behind.Â
You pull away for air, and Sukuna kisses your jaw before pressing a kiss to Satoruâs shoulder in a surprising moment of tenderness.Â
âShould I show you how I fuck her?â he asks, red pupils trained on you, though heâs speaking like youâre hardly even there. âI bet you canât take it. Youâll probably become a pathetic mess within minutes.â
Satoru moans, and itâs something straight out of a porn.Â
âGod, youâre such a fucking whore, Gojo,â Sukuna says. âSo desperate for attention. Donât think I havenât noticed the way youâve been eyeing me, eyeing both of us for years.âÂ
Sukunaâs hips start moving, thrusting into Satoru and effectively causing Satoru to fuck you too. You feel Satoruâs arms wrap around you as he clings to you, and you run your fingers through his sweaty hair, tracing your nails along his undercut.Â
Satoru thinks he might be in heaven on earth. The sting of Sukuna fucking him from behind hurts, but it hurts so good, and the soothing warmth of your wet cunt only makes it ten times better. Heâs overstimulated beyond belief, and he thinks he might explode soon.Â
âYouâre doing so good, Toru,â you mutter, kissing the side of his head. âTaking it so well,â
Satoru whines, and you feel him twitch inside of you. Sukuna groans as well, and you lock eyes as the room is filled with the sound of skin against skin.Â
âI wonder how long youâve been fantasising about this, huh?â Sukuna says, and his hips grow meaner, causing Satoruâs cock to reach deeper. You can feel the impending orgasm as well, and you send your boyfriend the most cock drunk smile, your eyes half-lidded and your face covered in a light sheen. Sukuna thinks you look perfect. âYouâre so desperate it reeks of of you.â
Satoru is gone. You can feel his teeth dig into your neck as he tries to muffle the sounds being ripped from his throat with each push of Sukunaâs hips. His cock twitches and leaks.
âYou gonna come, baby?â you ask, and you can feel him nod against you as he licks the bitemark in apology.Â
Youâre not sure how the tables turned this quickly, how it went from Satoru being in complete control with you a mess underneath him to you coddling and coaxing him. You suppose thatâs the effect Sukuna has on people.Â
âYouâre not coming before my girl has,â Sukuna bites out. He pulls Satoruâs ass cheeks apart and leans back to watch his cock disappear in and out, groaning at the sight. âSelfish fucking loser,â he adds, and you feel tears coating your skin as Satoru cranes his neck to look back at Sukuna.
âPlease,â he stutters, and Sukuna throws his head back, laughing.Â
Youâre close. Sukuna can tell by the way your brows furrow and the way you pout. He can feel the coil in his stomach too, close to snapping. It feels like Satoru is trying to milk him for everything heâs got, and it feels so good to have the strongest below him like this, to watch the way his body curls into his girlfriendâs as heâs reduced to sweet pleas of release.Â
âPlease, please, please.â Itâs a mantra, a prayer, and Sukuna sighs, leaning down and sandwiching Gojo between the two of you once again.Â
âGo on then,â the tip of his cockhead presses against Satoruâs prostate, and he cries out, immediately coming once he has permission, filling you up with ropes of cum. You tumble over the edge soon after and grip Sukunaâs hair, pulling him in for a messy kiss as your cunt spasms around Satoru and your toes curl.Â
White dots prickle behind your eyelids, and your hips buck uselessly, though Sukuna isnât quite done yet, continuing to fuck you both into overstimulation, ignoring your cries as he chases his own orgasm.
You think you hear a little whine from your boyfriend as his hips stutter and he pulls out, coming all over Satoruâs back.Â
Satoru has long since collapsed on top of you, and he lets you lie like that as he shuffles into the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself before grabbing two towels. He cleans Gojo before pushing him off you.Â
You giggle when he leans down and kisses your nose before cleaning you up. Your cunt is still twitching with the aftershocks, pushing out globs of cum, and Sukuna watches, licking his lips before you close your thighs.Â
âI know what youâre thinking, and the answer is no,â you say, and Sukuna sighs before forcing your thighs open and cleaning you as much as possible. He kisses your cheeks and praises you, and you shuffle under the covers of your bed. Every limb in your body is heavy, and your mind is cloudy.Â
Satoru has collected himself in the meantime and stands up, grabbing his uniform.Â
He hardly looks at you or Sukuna, and your boyfriend rolls his eyes, going over to his closet and throwing a pair of boxers at Satoru before slipping on a pair himself.Â
Satoru stops in his tracks and stares, not knowing what to do.Â
âWhat?â Sukuna asks before stalking over to the bed and slipping underneath the covers.Â
âPut them on and join us, you fucking idiot.âÂ
thank you for reading!
tags: @hiraethwrote / @madaqueue / @mystically-yours / @mcmisa / @goobleissocool
@arsinary / @webism / @delightfulmentalityturtle / @honeybeezes / @daisu80
thank you for showing interest!! >:D
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