#excessive ornamentation

[mrvelocipede]

Having finished one elaborate ceiling medallion, it becomes very tempting to make more. If only because it means I can use colors I like better. Still very rococo-influenced, though.

[snarpreplies]

@nyancrimew did you know that glasses can be a real cat now?

your glasses look great!!

ty, i really need to get the frame fixed or replaced tho lol

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚🥀₊✧ 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝘂𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗲 ♡₊˚🥀₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 king x concubine 𖥔 lots of plot with porn 𖥔 mentions of abuse 𖥔 mentions of sexual assault 𖥔 normal form sukuna (sorry yall but next time ill do his big boy one) 𖥔 he only has eyes for you 𖥔 you're his darling 𖥔 he would kill for you 𖥔 breeding (!!!!) 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 8.8k

: ̗̀➛ notes: this took a whole WEEK to edit. im so obsessed with this story. it's my favourite thing ive written because i love period movies and dramas and really got to challenge my writing skills to give it more a fantasy-esque element. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

The diligent hands of Lord Sukuna Ryomen’s palace attendants scrubbed away the grime that clung to every inch of your weary form. There were no traces of tears in your eyes, despite the discomfort of the cleansing process.

Perhaps it was the residue of gratitude for an escape from a foster family who saw fit to barter you away for a pittance to fuel their vices.

The water surrounding you had transformed into a murky haze, carrying away the evidence of your former life's hardships.

Yet, amidst this cleansing ritual, you couldn’t shake the puzzling thought of why the guards had singled you out from the other young women within the household. Uraume, the overseer of palace affairs, had arrived alongside them, their presence looming over the proceedings with an air of mystery.

That morning, you were subjected to abuse in front of everyone at the central market, longing for someone to stand up for you. And someone did. They offered you an escape from that hellhole and into a world of luxury.

You weren’t going to complain now that you had accepted this new fate of yours.

“Ya’ got too many scars, girl,” remarked one of the elderly attendants, gently assisting you out of the steaming bath, her hands wrapping a towel around your shivering form. “Our powders will struggle to conceal ’em all. How did ya’ come by such marks?”

“From my foster family,” you murmured, gaze fixed upon your toes as if they held the weight of your past. The plush carpet beneath your feet offered a small comfort, a luxury unfamiliar to your upbringing.

Memories of their harsh discipline flooded back—the blistering gravel underfoot as punishment for daring to voice dissent. It was a brutal introduction to a world where obedience was paramount.

“A wretched lot,” the attendant muttered sympathetically.

Enveloped in a silk robe, she led you into a chamber shared by a cohort of women, a realm far removed from the confines of your previous abode. Here, space was ample—the expanse excessive, with beds lining the walls and a high ceiling adorned with a single chandelier.

As you entered, a symphony of pretty faces and inquisitive gazes greeted you. Women of all colours and shapes reclined luxuriously in plain robes, their hair intricately braided or cascading freely down their backs. Conversations paused, curiosity piqued by your arrival, as all eyes turned to welcome you into their midst.

Beneath the weight of their scrutinising stares, you found yourself shrinking. These women, draped in silk and adorned with jewels, were the king's favoured concubines, a fact repeatedly emphasised during your journey to the palace and even in the fragrant confines of the bathhouse.

Every instinct urged you to rebel, to refuse to be just another ornament in the king’s harem, but you understood the value placed on purity by the monarch.

Unfortunately, your innocence had been cruelly stolen from you by your foster father, leaving you tarnished in body and spirit. Lord Sukuna would have no use for a damaged flower in his garden of perfection.

In truth, you couldn’t even imagine an image of his face in your mind. His Lordship remained a mystery to those beyond the palace walls.

“Here ya’ are.” The attendant guided you to your bed. “That vanity there’s yours to use.” She gestured toward the communal area by the window, where two other young women were preparing themselves. “Once your hair dries, one of my girls will assist ya’ in preparin’ for your audience with His Lordship.” Her touch was gentle as she caressed your cheek. “Rest assured, dear, ya’ safe now.”

You attempted a smile, though the effort seemed Herculean amidst your weariness.

As the attendant departed, her scolding to the rowdy girls fading into the background, you nestled into the comforting embrace of your soft bedding, ignoring the hushed criticisms trailing in your wake.

She’s feeble.

Her hair lacks refinement.

The king would never entertain a lowly pauper.

She’ll be gone by tomorrow.

Their words, like venomous serpents, slithered through the air.

Amidst their degradation, you succumbed to exhaustion.

But your slumber was interrupted by the bustling commotion of handmaidens assembling around you.

Disoriented and scarcely given a moment to collect your thoughts, you found yourself swiftly escorted to the vanity, where the clamour of girls jostling for space filled the air.

They manipulated your locks, weaving intricate patterns into your hair, fashioning a crown braid atop your head while allowing the remaining tresses to cascade freely down your back.

Meanwhile, other attendants removed your robe, their hands moving with practised efficiency as they anointed your skin with fragrant oils, infusing it with the delicate essence of lavender.

Between the flurry of activity, the whispers of your fellow concubines hung in the air like a veil of awe and trepidation. Their eyes were drawn to the scars marring your skin, as they speculated about how the king would perceive your imperfections as repulsive.

Good.

You craved precisely that outcome.

If the king recoiled at your sight, it meant he wouldn’t desire you to bear his heir. If the tales circulating in the town about his monstrous nature held any truth, then he’d likely offer you death as a reprieve—and you’d welcome it with open arms.

Before facing the king, you stole a glance at your reflection, the final moments of solitude before your fate was decided. The powder concealed the imperfections of your skin, rendering it smooth and flawless. Your cheeks and lips bore a muted hue reminiscent of crushed cherries. Delicate white blossoms adorned your hair, woven into your braids by nimble fingers.

As you stood, the other women adorned you in a robe of silky fabric, its floral pattern draping over your form, cinched at the waist to accentuate your curves. Barefoot, you followed them out, the chill of the floor beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth of anticipation and trepidation swirling within you.

“Good luck, pauper,” taunted one of the concubines, her voice dripping with disdain, echoed by a cacophony of mocking laughter.

Palms clammy with nerves, you shifted your gaze to the opulence of the palace corridors. Adorned with countless chandeliers and swathes of velvet drapery, they offered a stark contrast to the blooming back garden. Memories of tending to the earth and nurturing life back at your foster family’s home flooded your mind.

“Quickly now,” one of the maids urged, her voice tinged with urgency. “His Lordship detests tardiness.”

“I apologise.” You hastened your steps to keep pace with the group of attendants.

She halted before a grand set of double doors, guarded by imposing sentinels clad in formidable armour. With a flick of her wrist, the guards swung the doors open. She gently nudged you forward, and only as you crossed the threshold did the doors seal shut behind you.

You blinked, adjusting to the dimness within, scanning the chamber until your gaze alighted upon a pair of crimson glimmers opposite you. “My Lord?” You inclined your head and took hesitant steps toward the source of those fiery eyes.

“Come closer,” his command echoed through the chamber, sending a shiver down your spine. The low resonance of His Highness Sukuna Ryomen’s voice was unexpectedly rich and velvety. You had envisioned a voice tinged with age, but instead, it possessed a rough texture that awoken something within you.

With hesitant steps, you approached until you stood at the edge of his bed, your fingertips grazing the diaphanous curtains that enveloped him in a cocoon of privacy.

“Closer,” he urged, coaxing you to unveil the enigma lying beyond the veil.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you obeyed, parting the curtains and gracefully crawled onto the mattress. The silkiness of the sheets were a blatant contrast to the roughness of your foster house’s. A pang of guilt tugged at your conscience as you realized the irony of finding solace in this luxurious confinement of being his concubine.

“Enough.” His abrupt order halted your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the present moment.

As commanded, you obediently settled into your posture, folding your legs beneath you in the dimness. Within his shadowed realm, only the luminous crimson irises pierced through the gloom, studying you with an intensity that made your belly churn. Despite the curiosity burning within you, you restrained the impulse to voice your questions. Instead, you settled in the tranquillity that crowded the space between you.

“What is your name?” His inquiry cut through the hushed air.

“Y/N, my Lord.”

As your name slipped from your lips, he captured it delicately, repeating it like a sacred prayer. Each syllable danced on his tongue, imprinting itself upon the very essence of his being. In that moment, you observed a subtle shift—the shadows that had cloaked the chamber seemed to dissipate.

A soft, golden luminescence filtered through the parted curtains, cascading across half of Sukuna’s face.

You blinked in astonishment.

He appeared . . . young?

The age difference between you and him was not a chasm of decades, but rather a modest gap of no less than five years.

Physically, at least.

His appearance was striking, with locks of hair dyed a subdued pink hue, contrasting with a streak of darker shade beneath. His hair was styled into rugged spikes, lending an air of defiance. Intricate black markings adorned his features, tracing a path from his cheekbones down to his chin, while similar patterns wove across his strong shoulder, cascading over his defined pectoral muscles and sculpted abdomen.

As your eyes fell upon him, your heart quickened its pace, each beat a vicious drumming against your ribs. Gone was the expectation of a lord showing the signs of wisdom, with wrinkles upon his brow and a body marked by the passage of time. Instead, before you sat a vision of breathtaking beauty, defying your preconceived notions and leaving you breathless in awe.

With a graceful gesture, he swept aside the curtains, allowing them to unveil his entirety.

The same markings mirrored the other side of his face and cascaded down the length of his body, a mesmerising display of symmetry. Dark bands encircled his wrists, and his nails bore the same deep hue.

Poised against the headboard, he reclined with an air of effortless elegance, one knee raised as his elbow found a comfortable perch, while the other leg extended out. Though he was unclothed, a veil of silk sheets cloaked the lower half of his form.

“Remarkable,” you unknowingly whispered. Your hand clapped over your mouth. “I apologise, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s lips curved into a sinister grin, his flawless teeth gleaming in the golden light. While many would flee at the sight, you remained rooted in place, unable to tear your gaze away. A delicate flush spread across your cheeks, betraying the undeniable attraction simmering between your legs. He was absolutely divine, and the path of being his concubine suddenly didn’t seem so terrible.

Yet, the reality of sharing Sukuna with ten other women loomed over your thoughts like a shadow. The thought of him spreading his affections among so many others kindled a small flame of jealousy within you, mingled with confusion. Why hadn’t he impregnated at least one of them with the promise of an heir?

“Have you not been schooled in the art of lowering your gaze in the presence of nobility, Y/N?”

Your lashes fluttered as you registered your lapse in decorum, hastily averting your gaze. “Forgive me, my Lord, if my oversight has caused offence.” Surely, he wouldn’t punish you for a momentary lapse of admiration.

Would he?

A gentle touch beneath your chin guided your face upward. His fingers spread across your cheek, the warmth nearly forcing you to curve into his touch. Despite the temptation, your eyes remained obediently downward.

“Look at me.”

Your gaze lingered on him, tracing the delicate patterns etched over his cheek, the fiery hue of his irises, the elegant contour of his nose, and the soft curvature of his lips. Never before had you felt such a rousing desire towards any man. Yet fate had chosen to ensnare your heart with the one most forbidden to you.

“You bear a sadness that weighs heavily in your eyes,” he noted softly, his hand descending to the curve of your neck, his thumb caressing the frantic rhythm of your pulse. A low, melodic sound produced from his throat. “Tell me, my love, does the face before you stir fear within your heart?”

“It does not, my Lord. The fear of your appearance holds no dominion over me,” you declared with quiet resolve. “You’re quite . . . beautiful.”

Sukuna’s gaze sparked with a mixture of surprise and intrigue at your response.

Suppressing a nervous gulp, you silently reprimanded yourself for speaking so boldly to one of noble rank. Back in the confines of your former life, such defiance would have earned you swift punishment, yet here, in the presence of royalty, it could lead to your demise.

As you prepared to avert your gaze, ready to accept whatever consequences may come, Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense air before you could retreat.

“Don’t.”

In that moment, you found yourself questioning your instincts.

Why did you not cower in fear? Why did your body not tremble in the presence of a man who had slaughtered the lives of his enemies without hesitation? And most perplexing of all, how could you maintain unwavering eye contact with a figure of such formidable power?

“Remove your robe.” His grip remained firm around your throat, his thumb delicately tracing your pulse. “And do not stray your gaze elsewhere.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Your fingers loosened the fabric’s bindings, allowing it to cascade down your frame, and revealing the soft curvature of your form beneath. As it pooled around your lap, your breasts stood exposed to his scrutiny.

A shiver danced across your skin as his eyes traced the contours of your body, a faint smirk teasing his lips.

He brushed back strands of your hair, his touch trailing down your vertebrate. His eyes narrowed into thin slits, brows knitted together in contemplation, fingers repeatedly tracing the ridges of your scars.

“Turn around.”

The dreaded discovery that sent ripples of revulsion through the concubines had finally come to pass. Your scars lay exposed before the gaze of a powerful lord. Not only would he slit your throat, but also those of the maids who had tended to your needs, and perhaps even Uruame, who had brokered your purchase from the bastards responsible for your imperfections.

“Never before have I been compelled to repeat myself for a concubine.” His voice carried a lethal edge as he increased his grip around your throat. “Turn the fuck around.”

Your compliance came in slow, measured movements as you turned away, presenting your back to him in a gesture of submission. His hands gathered the strands of your hair, lifting them aside to reveal the raw truth etched into your skin. His fingers traced the jagged remnants of whip lashes, the seared imprints of cigars, and the cruel reminders of knife wounds inflicted by a foster father turned tormentor.

Silent tears traced a path down your cheeks, as you sat in a state of numbness, your gaze fixed upon the closed door of Sukuna’s chamber.

A tender sensation, soft and moist, grazed your back, prompting a reflexive twitch in your left shoulder.

Turning slightly, you beheld Sukuna pressing his lips against the scar that marred your shoulder blades.

“My Lord—”

“I did not ask you to speak,” he murmured over your skin, sending a tremor through your frame. “Rise onto your knees.”

Obeying his command, you ascended onto your knees, feeling the weight of his hands settle upon your waist. His lips trailed a path of reverence, bestowing kisses upon each mark that scarred your skin, from your marrow to your nape.

Your breath caught in a delicate dance of exhales, a whispered symphony escaping your parted lips. The wet caress of his tongue sent ripples of sensation coursing through your being.

His arm circled your waist, drawing you into the sanctuary of his embrace. A fleeting kiss graced the nape of your neck, followed by the suction of his lips upon the tender side of your neck. His soft hands possessively held the curve of your breasts, cradling their weight.

Your head reclined against his strong shoulder.

With his gaze fixed upon you, his lips glistened with a hint of moisture, while his crimson eyes locked onto your own human-like ones. You dared not divert your gaze as he previously ordered. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, sending lightning strikes through your frame.

Unlike the non-consensual encounter of the past, there was no hint of agony; only a tantalising blend of pleasure that left you breathless, without a protest or helpless whimper. Instead, a sigh of pure rapture escaped your lips, encompassing your body in an embrace.

Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as if he had stumbled upon a long-sought treasure.

His fingertips skated down your torso, gliding toward your centre. You captured your bottom lip between your teeth. Holding his gaze became a daunting challenge as he skillfully teased your sensitive nub, causing your breath to quicken and your chest to rise and fall with each exhilarating sensation.

Sukuna slid his middle finger into you. “You’re incredibly drawn, Sad Eyes,” he murmured, the endearment he had bestowed upon you almost provoking a smile. His lips grazed your ear as he continued. “Perhaps I should stretch you out”—he pushed in his ring finger, forcing a sharp gasp to tear from your throat and an involuntary arch of your body against his chest—“so that your cunt is able to welcome my cock.”

You stifled the knot rising in your throat as Sukuna plunged his fingers into you. Such profound bliss seemed inconceivable with mere digits alone.

“My Lord.” Your breath caught as he increased his tempo. “My—” Each thrust intensified the knot in your stomach, threatening to unravel you entirely. You teetered on the brink, dangerously close to staining his fingers with your release. A sharp gasp choked out of you as he struck a wondrous chord deep within. “Please, my Lord. I beg of you— I will soil your hand if you persist—” But your plea dissolved into a cry of ecstasy before you could utter another word.

Sukuna’s laughter danced teasingly in the hollow of your ear, leaving you utterly spellbound.

You were overheated, overstimulated, overridden by the explosive undoing from his fingers. Breathless and consumed by lust, your world spun as he seized your jaw and crushed his lips to yours.

In that electrifying moment, his tongue invaded your mouth, initially startling you, yet you surrendered to the rhythm.

Sukuna leaned back slightly after planting a tender peck on your lips. Exhaling softly, he threaded his fingers through your hair, his touch sending shivers down your spine. As his lips met yours once more, gentler this time, your hand ventured to trace the contours of his adorned chest.

“You are quite the vixen.” A playful glint danced in his eyes. “How valiant of you to seduce a lord into bestowing kisses upon his concubine.” A broad smile graced his lips, leaving you uncertain whether his words were playful jest or genuine admiration.

“Do you not bestow your kisses upon all your concubines, my Lord?”

“I do not pleasure their cunts, either.”

His speech carried the brashness of a tempest, a departure from the expected decorum one associated with royalty. Sukuna Ryomen defied conventions. It was a trait uncommon among lords, yet one that intrigued you deeply. His demeanour, both in battle and in the intimate confines of the bedchamber, lacked the softening. But you found yourself drawn to his unfiltered honesty, appreciating the absence of cryptic notions.

As you sat before him, considering your next words carefully, a surge of courage emboldened you to reveal your truth.

“My Lord,” you began, your voice quivering with uncertainty, “I . . . I am not pure.”

“Given the sounds you were drawing out,” he quipped with a chuckle, “I wouldn’t have surmised otherwise.” He assisted you in rising from where you rested against his chest, positioning you before him. Observing your solemn expression, he arched an eyebrow in curiosity. “Was your satisfaction not fulfilled?”

“Indeed, my Lord, it surpassed any expectation,” you confessed, worrying your lip as he sighed impatiently. “But I must disclose . . . I am not chaste.”

Sukuna’s response was subdued, save for the faint twitch in his jaw. He averted his gaze from yours momentarily, reaching for the decanter on his bedside table and pouring himself a measure of spirits.

“Speak,” he instructed, his tone clipped.

“It occurred before I reached maturity,” you murmured softly, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself. “My foster father—” Your words faltered as Sukuna raised a hand, a silent acknowledgment of his comprehension of your unspoken anguish.

“I need not hear more.” He swiftly consumed the crimson liquid in a single gulp. “You are dismissed for the night.”

“But my Lord’s desires remain unmet—”

“Leave,” he commanded, his tone final and unwavering.

With a gulp, you hastily gathered your robe around your form, delicately extricating yourself from his expansive bed.

Just as you thought to retreat, a firm hand seized your wrist, drawing you back into Sukuna’s embrace. His lips melded with yours in an intoxicating kiss, causing both your gazes to flutter open when he pulled away. A faint smirk played upon his lips as he adjusted the robe over your shoulder.

“Next time,” he murmured, plucking a flower from the adornments in your hair and placing it upon his bedside, “you shall grace my chambers without such distracting embellishments upon yourself.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” you replied with a respectful bow of your head, awaiting his dismissal until he gestured for you to depart with a casual wave of his hand.

In the shared chambers, your fellow concubines swirled around your bed, eager to hear of your inaugural encounter with Lord Sukuna.

Each girl shared their own vivid tales, painting scenes of ecstasy under the cloak of darkness, where the king’s touch invoked sensations akin to celestial bodies colliding, or where unfamiliar pleasures erased the boundaries of their throat—whatever that latter entailed.

Though a twinge of jealousy flickered within you, it was swiftly overshadowed by a swell of pride. The concubines pleasured Sukuna in darkness, the same darkness you had willingly entered, before his touch had set ablaze a world of gold for you.

They were merely beautiful means of physical gratification for their lord, devoid of the intimacy you shared—his fingers delving deep into your core. And never had any of them spoken of kisses exchanged. Sukuna had spoken true when you questioned if others received similar treatment.

But why you?

Why, after a mere span of ten hours within the palace walls, did you find yourself, dare you entertain the notion, as his favoured? What magic did you possess that drew him to you, and how had you managed to seduce his lips, his fingers, to meet yours in such an intimate embrace?

“Did he spend himself inside you?” one of the girls whispered, prodding your knee to rouse you from your silence.

“No.”

“Aye, he never does,” remarked a golden-haired girl with a resigned sigh. “He sees to it that we consume some berries afterward, claiming they prevent conception. Strange, isn’t it? Especially if he’s so eager for an heir.”

Another girl hushed her, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone. “Did he take you from behind? That’s his favoured position, you know. He’s had us all that way.”

You stumbled over your words, unsure how to respond.

“And did you savour his taste?” came the next question. “It’s quite rich in sodium—”

“Girls!” A booming voice echoed from the doorway of the bedroom, startling you and the other concubines into immediate attention. You caught sight of the elderly attendant who oversaw your care, hands planted firmly on her hips as she observed the chaotic scene before her.

With a disapproving huff, she pivoted sharply on her heel and departed, leaving a lingering sense of reprimand in her wake.

As the frenzied chatter about Sukuna’s body attributes gradually dissolved into the quietude of sleep, morning arrived with its routine of communal showerings.

Throughout the shared bath, you silently scrubbed away the remnants of the night, indulging your fellow concubines about your previous life in town.

Upon drying off and exiting the bathing chamber, you were met with an unexpected sight: a gathering of the girls clustered around your bed.

Navigating through the throng, you reached your space to discover a resplendent scarlet silk robe embroidered with intricate black floral patterns.

Gingerly lifting the note placed atop the fabric, you read Sukuna’s precise handwriting. Curious glances from the other concubines peered over your shoulders in anticipation.

No distracting embellishments, Sad Eyes.

“What does that mean?” a curious whisper floated through the air, followed by murmurs of intrigue from the other girls. “Why does he call you ‘sad eyes’?”

You clutched the letter to your chest, suppressing a grin as you ignored the questions, the mockery, and the jostling of bodies around you. Your attention was fixated on the magnificent robe gifted to you by His Lordship.

For the remainder of the evening, you slept without any interruptions, seeking to compensate for the countless nights spent battling insomnia within the confines of your foster home.

You observed with a keen eye that none of the other girls were ushered to Sukuna’s chambers; their time seemed to veer toward strolls in the back garden or spent in the dormitory, indulging in wine-fueled scandals about the palace staff, as was their custom.

As the clock struck eight in the evening, a troupe of maids entered the chamber bearing dinner trays. A wave of anticipation swept through the room as the other girls eagerly accepted their meals and accompanying pitchers of water. Your own stomach rumbled in hunger, awaiting your own turn.

But that moment never arrived.

Instead, the maid bypassed your bed entirely, moving on to the next. A surge of apprehension rippled through you as a handmaiden approached, guiding you away from the mattress and toward the vanity.

“What about my dinner?” you asked as the attendants groomed your hair.

“His Lordship has extended an invitation for you to dine with him tonight,” came the reply.

The room fell into a sudden hush.

Dine with him?

The notion sent a flurry of thoughts racing through your mind.

Before you could process further, you found yourself pulled upright, your garments removed to be replaced by the scarlet robe.

Envy flickered in the eyes of the other concubines as they observed, their resentment palpable as they stabbed at their food with exaggerated aggression. It wasn’t your doing that Sukuna had taken an unexpected interest in you.

With no adornments save for a dab of crushed cherry paste upon your lips, you were escorted to Sukuna’s chambers.

Once more, the imposing doors swung open, and you found yourself gently ushered into the chamber. As they sealed shut behind you, the room was flooded with light. Sukuna’s figure stared out at the moonlit gardens outside, clad in a billowing white silk robe.

“My Lord,” you greeted respectfully, inclining your head in deference.

“Draw near.”

Complying with his directive, you approached and stood at his side. His presence loomed over you, his stature commanding and formidable, capable of engulfing you entirely with a single embrace. Not that such thoughts dared to linger in your mind.

“Why is your face flushed?” he asked, his gaze penetrating.

You blinked, attempting to dismiss the telltale warmth creeping up your cheeks. “It’s nothing, my Lo—”

Before you could finish, Sukuna turned your chin towards him, his palm coming to rest against your forehead. A nervous swallow traced its way down your throat at his touch, his eyes trailing down your form, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as they settled upon you in your robe.

“Thank you for your gracious gift,” you murmured, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks.

His fingers trailed through your hair, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his eyes. “I anticipate nothing less than thoroughly enjoying the privilege of removing it off of you.”

You blushed deeper at his statement.

“Come now. I’ve brought a surprise for you.” He took your hand in his with a tug, guiding you towards a doorway. With a simple flick of his fingers, the door parted, revealing a dimly lit hallway beyond.

Your gaze widened in astonishment. “How did you do that, my Lord?”

“Do what?”

“You opened the door without laying a hand on it.”

Sukuna’s striking blood-coloured eyes cut to you. “There is much about me that will be unveiled in due course, my love. What you perceive is but a guise for my true nature.” His smile, oddly childlike, sent a chill down your spine.

Was he some sort of sorcerer? You’d only heard whispers of human anomalies lurking beneath the earth’s surface or sealed within vessels, but historical accounts weren't exactly your cup of tea.

“I ventured into town today,” he said.

“Oh.” You swallowed hard, recovering from his previous statement. “I hope it was a fruitful trip.”

“Indeed, quite fruitful.”

In the soft glow of the distant hallway, Sukuna’s face came into view, casting a spell of trepidation upon your heart. His features were drawn into a mask of stoicism, his eyes devoid of warmth, and his lips pressed into a firm line, jaw rigid with tension.

Parting the curtains, Sukuna drew you near, his arm sweeping out to reveal a horrifying sight: your foster father, bound to a chair with chains, wearing the cruel marks of torture.

His face marred by countless wounds, an eye absent, and teeth scattered at his feet. His dignity stripped away, his vulnerability laid bare in his nakedness, and his manhood amputated.

The sickening lurch in your stomach threatened to betray your composure. “F-Forgive my intrusion, my Lord, but is he . . . is he dead?”

Sukuna’s response was a gilded dagger from within his robe, its handle decorated with a jewel reminiscent of your own captivating eyes. Nestled within the hilt was the very flower he had plucked from your hair. Upon the blade, your name was inscribed.

“Do as you wish, my beloved,” he whispered, his voice stained with dark fascination, offering you the instrument of your foster father’s fate with a chilling sense of detachment.

You couldn’t possibly bring yourself to commit such a heinous act.

Despite the unspeakable cruelties inflicted upon you by the bastard, the idea of taking another’s life filled you with a trembling dread.

Yet, the itch to end the torment, to rid the world of such a vile presence, simmered just beneath the surface as you stood before him, his life slipping away.

A hand trailed down the back of your head, guiding your trembling fingers to grasp the dagger tightly.

Looking up, you met Sukuna’s gaze, his expression hollow, his features obscured by shadows. This was the face of the Devil that cursed his enemies on their knees and had them willingly submit to death.

With a push from behind, you stumbled forward, drawing closer to your step-father’s prone form.

Glancing back at Sukuna, you were met with an incongruously bright smile. Quite a twisted paradox, His Lordship.

Your step-father sat unconscious, the stench of his bodily fluids assaulting your senses. His wounds oozed with a sickening mixture of blood and pus, his laboured breaths the only indication of life remaining within him. The scene was painfully familiar, a mirror image of the torment you had endured countless times before.

But now, someone had intervened, offering you a chance at liberation, a chance to end the cycle of abuse once and for all.

You glanced back again.

Until Sukuna.

Your gaze reluctantly returned to the true embodiment of cruelty before you. With a steady hand, you raised your arm, wielding the dagger with purpose.

It found its mark in your foster-father’s chest, a chilling silence punctuated only by the sound of steel meeting flesh. Ignoring the strangled cry that erupted from him, you withdrew the blade, then drove it back into his heart.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

His lifeblood painted your face and stained your pristine garments, mingling with the fabric in a macabre dance of crimson. To the untrained eye, it could easily be mistaken for a mere splash of vibrant colour upon your robe.

No one would dare suspect the truth.

No one would dare come near if they knew of your sin.

No one, except Sukuna.

Once the monster over your bed was consigned to the depths of hell, his guts spilling onto the floor around your bare feet, you allowed yourself a moment of grim satisfaction.

With a contemptuous snarl, you spat upon him, a visceral response to the years of degradation he had inflicted upon you for every misstep.

A comforting warmth touched your back.

Startled by the sudden contact, you tensed before easing at the sight of Sukuna’s faint smile.

As he reached to caress your cheek, you instinctively recoiled, lowering your gaze in deference.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” you murmured, “but I cannot permit you to spoil your hands with the blood of this man.”

Sukuna’s shoes entered your line of sight as he tilted your chin upward, his moon-white sleeve wiping away the traces of blood from your mouth and its vicinity. “You appear rather exquisite painted in blood, Sad Eyes. Perhaps I ought to designate you as my prized assassin instead of a mere concubine.”

“I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I cannot partake in killing . . . again.”

“You need not worry,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he drew near. “I will defend you from any who cast their gaze upon you, let alone lay a hand upon your delicate form. Those who dare cross that line will face my wrath, their very existence extinguished before your eyes. Not a single tear shall stain your cheeks.” His lips brushed against yours. “From this moment forward, fear shall not reside within you. By my side, you shall command fear itself, my love.”

That night, Sukuna bathed you in the sanctuary of his chambers, washing away the traces of blood from your skin as you gazed at him with a sense of wonder. It wasn’t the superficial admiration the other concubines whispered about—it was a profound affection blossoming within you, nurtured by power and protection.

He draped you in the luxurious folds of one of his silk robes, summoning servants to prepare dinner. Seated upon his lap, he fed you spoonfuls of rice and chicken, even as your stomach protested its fullness. Soft kisses peppered your neck like a sweet dessert, culminating in one upon your lips before he reluctantly released you to retire to your dormitory.

In the ensuing weeks, Sukuna would consistently send a crafted robe ahead of each meeting—in the serene seclusion of his chambers, where the flickering candlelight cast shadows upon the walls as you dined together.

Over the course of these intimate dinners, he eagerly absorbed your musings, whether they revolved around the narratives of books discovered within the palace library or your adeptness with herbs and plants, nurtured by your profound knowledge.

On occasion, as the first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, Sukuna would summon you for a stroll in the haven of the back garden. Woven between the fragrant blooms, you’d dance about with childlike enthusiasm, identifying various flowers and tracing their lineage.

Ever the attentive listener, Sukuna trailed behind you, his gaze fixed upon your animated figure. He would only speak when you fell silent, demanding you to continue sharing the familial ties between apples, plums, and the roses they stemmed from.

Within the crevice of your soul, the once withered garden of affection had flourished into a lush wilderness, blossoming with untamed wildflowers and clouds that spelled out his name.

Sukuna inhabited your every waking thought, his intoxicating mouth that worshipped your body left you giggling in delight behind your hands.

Yet, each encounter with a fellow concubine, flushed and eager with tales of their rendezvous with him, felt like thorns piercing your tender heart. Jealousy, like ivy creeping upon stone, entwined itself around your every plagued thought. Your gaze often strayed to the bedside drawer where the dagger lay dormant. The mere mention of his physique by the other women tormented your soul relentlessly.

Why hadn’t Sukuna taken you as he had with every other concubine? You had grown accustomed to his presence, even eager to reciprocate the pleasure he gifted you every evening. You had offered yourself willingly, aching for the intimacy that would bind you even closer to him. But he had not claimed you in the same manner, not entered you fully, not seeded his legacy within you.

Did he question your worthiness? Did he see you merely as a transient pleasure? Were you destined to remain just a concubine, forever denied the honour of carrying his child?

“Why do you remain silent?” Sukuna asked, turning the pages of the book you had suggested to him; he was already half-way through.

You were seated snugly between his legs upon the bed, your back rested against his chest, fingers idly toying with the strands of your hair. “I find myself devoid of words this evening.”

“Hmm.” Sukuna took a leisurely sip of his drink before placing it aside. “Surely you can conjure something. You know well enough that I cannot endure your silence.”

With an exasperated sigh, you rolled your eyes. “Well, I apologise for failing to provide you with amusement, my Lord.”

Sukuna snapped the book shut.

You instinctively pressed your lips together, silently chiding yourself for the unintended sharpness in your voice.

With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to maintaining your composure, forcing yourself to take slow, steady breaths. Deep down, you believed that he wouldn’t inflict harm upon you or cast you out of his chambers. But the nagging thought chewed at you.

This was Sukuna Ryomen, and you . . . well, you were merely a shadow in comparison.

“If you crave my touch,” he breathed softly into your ear, “all you need to do is utter the request.”

With a determined resolve, you turned to face him, settling yourself upon his lap. Sukuna regarded you with a quirked eyebrow, a quiet acknowledgment of your unconventional audacity.

“I do crave your touch, my Lord,” you confessed, your voice a hushed plea, “but not only with your hands or lips. I long to feel you in a different manner.” Your gaze drifted down to his pelvis, the unspoken appetite evident in your eyes. “I crave that.”

Sukuna exhaled heavily, his gaze piercing as he addressed you. “So, you’ve been withholding your words simply because I haven’t fed you my cock?"

Heat rose to your cheeks at his blunt proclamation, though you had grown accustomed to his coarse mannerisms over time.

“Yes, my . . . Lord.” Your voice carried a mixture of embarrassment. “I’ve endured three long months of anticipation, patiently waiting to share in the pleasures enjoyed by your other consorts. Yet, with the arrival of autumn, I find myself still untouched by the experiences they so openly boast about.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Are you asking me to bed you merely for the purpose of becoming a notch in your bragging rights?”

“Never, my Lord!” you protested vehemently, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes. “I would never demean you with such vulgar talk in public. I’ve spun tales to the others, concealing the truth of our encounters. They remain oblivious to the pleasures you’ve granted me.” Your fingers traced the intricate markings on his chiselled abdominal muscles. “If my spoiled state displeases you, if I am deemed unworthy of your touch, pray, inform me now. Regardless, my sole wish is to fulfil His Lordship’s needs.”

Sukuna disentangled your hands from his chest, a gesture that caused a fissure to form within your heart, forcing your body to instinctively withdraw from his touch.

Just as you began to pull away, he swiftly encircled his arm around your waist, tugging you back onto his lap with a firm grip. Before you could utter a single word, his lips descended upon yours, silencing any protest with a passionate kiss.

With a purposeful touch, he skillfully divested you of your robe, revealing the curves of your form beneath. His hands, warm and adept, began to massage your supple breasts, kindling soft gasps from your lips. His own trailed a wet path downward, leaving a bridge of feverish kisses along the expanse of your throat, lingering over the rapid pulse beneath your skin.

As his lips found purchase on the tender flesh of your neck, his actions became more urgent, his touch more demanding. A pinch at your pebbled nipples sent a shiver of sensation coursing through you, followed by the heat of an open-mouthed kiss.

Your gaze drifted downwards, enchanted by the sight of his tongue encircling the sensitive spots, suckling on the swollen buds like a babe. Already, heat was building within the depths of your being, igniting a flame that spread between your legs.

Sukuna laid you back, relishing the delicate flavour of your lips as his fingers skillfully sought out your throbbing clit, stimulating it with unhurried circles.

With practised ease, he slipped two fingers inside you, quickening his rhythm without preamble. Your hand instinctively traced down to his chest, undoing the fastenings of his robe.

“Take it,” he whispered against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. “Satisfy your lord, my love.”

Your fingers curled around his pulsating cock, the very object of desire that the other girls had passionately recounted. The knowledge of their previous intimacies with him only stoked the flames of envy within you, spurring you to intensify your ministrations.

With a surge of determination, you quickened the pace of your caresses, applying pressure with your thumb upon his sensitive tip while fondling his sacs.

Sukuna’s grin widened against your lips as he reciprocated with equal zeal, slipping a third finger into your slick heat until he was fully engulfed by your swollen core.

Together, you sailed upon the waves of raw carnal desire, locked in a lecherous race to reach your climax, each vying to be the first to cross the finish line—

Sukuna’s low, guttural moans resonated throughout the chamber.

You had achieved victory.

His essence spilled forth into your waiting hands, his cock convulsing with the intensity of his release. Moments later, you succumbed to your own climax, a soft cry escaping your lips.

With care, Sukuna withdrew his hand from your centre, and you instinctively examined your palm, noting the striking resemblance of his essence to your own.

You tentatively brought your fingers to your lips, savouring the taste of him.

“I did not instruct you to do that,” he growled, his gaze blazing as you tasted him. “But I suppose I’ll permit it.”

“It is salty,” you murmured, almost absentmindedly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, are you women incapable of discussing anything besides my cock?” he exclaimed, frustration evident in his tone.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension dissipating as he cleaned his fingers with his tongue before tenderly cradling the back of your head, drawing you to sit upon his lap. Your laughter softened into chuckles, a smile playing upon your lips.

“Did I please you, my Lo—”

“Sukuna,” he interrupted firmly. “Only you may address me by my given name.”

“My L—”

“I command it.” His tone left no room for argument.

You affirmed your agreement with a nod.

He was Sukuna.

Your Sukuna.

“Very well, Sukuna.” You felt a subtle shift in the air between you. His chuckle rumbled softly. “Shall I turn around for you?”

“And why do you deem such an unnecessary act necessary?”

“Because—” You suppressed the urge to divulge the whispers of the other concubines regarding his favoured position. “Never mind. How would you prefer me to present myself to you?”

“As you are,” Sukuna answered, his grip tightening around himself. “How you managed to have me spend by your hand in under five minutes is a marvel beyond my comprehension.”

Internally, you gave yourself a congratulatory pat on the back.

“Now, my love,” he said, inclining his chin towards his erection, “will you do my cock the honour of sitting on it?”

Licking the grin of your lips, you nodded, rising to your knees. With nimble fingers, you positioned his hardened length at your entrance, gradually lowering yourself onto him.

A sharp intake of breath escaped Sukuna’s lips, his hands instinctively grasping your hips. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, enduring the initial sting of penetration. Perhaps every touch of his fingers had been a meticulous groundwork for this pinnacle moment.

As you settled into your seat upon him, you granted yourself a minute to acclimate to the sheer magnitude of him stretching and filling your tight, supple walls.

Sukuna tilted his head back, impatience evident in his eyes. “Will you begin moving at a pace befitting this century, Sad Eyes?”

“Just a moment,” you retorted, your tone tinged with irritation.

“Unfortunately, the sight of your leaking cunt is testing my patience,” he remarked, his gaze lingering provocatively on your flushed form.

Collecting yourself, you affirmed your resolve with a nod before subtly adjusting your position, and swaying your hips forward. His strong hands guided you, aiding your movements as you sought a rhythm. “Gods, you’re— You’re quite large. It’s rather discomforting.”

“Ah, where has the enthusiasm to please your lord vanished, my love?” His laughter echoes through the chamber as he leaned back, amused by your scowl. “I must confess, your defiance is perhaps your most alluring trait. It has crossed my mind more than once during moments of handling myself in the bath.”

Your brow furrowed in dismay.

It was evident that the other concubines possessed far greater expertise in pleasuring him than you ever could. All you could manage was to feign enthusiasm, your movements faltering and disjointed, as you struggled to produce even a fraction of the satisfaction they effortlessly blessed him with. His laughter, which wasn’t helping your cause, bore an uncanny resemblance to the mocking tones of the girls who had taunted you in the past.

You no longer wished to endure this charade.

You halted in your tracks, unable to muster the courage to meet his gaze, your eyes fixated instead on his throat. “It appears . . . that I may not be adequately versed in fulfilling your needs. I shall endeavour to educate myself further before making another attempt. For now, I request permission to retire for the evening, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s grip tightened as he seized your jaw, compelling you to meet his gaze. “You dare to defy my command to address me by my given name?” His smile remained wicked as he drew your face closer to his own. “Remember, my love, there is a boundary to which I tolerate your rebellion. Do not allow my affections to cloud your judgement. I remain your Lord, above all else. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you managed to gasp out.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Sukuna,” you replied, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

With a swift motion, he released your sore jaw, and before you could even consider easing the ache, his lips crashed against yours.

In that moment, control slipped from your grasp entirely. His hands gripped the flesh of your buttocks possessively, guiding your movements as he claimed you with a primal savageness that left you shaking in his embrace.

“Does it pain you, my beloved?” Sukuna growled, his fingers curling around your nape possessively. “Do you feel the strain of my cock as I breach your tender walls?”

You whimpered softly, your head nodding against the curve of his neck.

“Fear not, my darling. I will diligently train this cunt of yours to accommodate every inch of me, dusk, dawn, and twilight. Your throat, too, shall be honed to fulfil my every whim, wherever and whenever I demand.” With a swift motion, he tugged your hair, forcing you to meet his glare. “And should you dare to entertain thoughts of defiance with any other man beyond the confines of my chamber, rest assured, there will be consequences.”

“Sukuna,” was all you gasped, eyes rolling back as his tip probed the depths of your womb. His tongue traced the delicate curve of your throat before shoving into your mouth, drawing out your own to suckle on. In the heat of the moment, your hands roamed aimlessly, torn between grasping at his waist, clutching his shoulders, or caressing his cheeks.

“Oh, how I love the sight of your breasts greeting me in my face.” Sukuna tightened his hold on each of them with a deadly grasp, savouring the melodious cry that escaped your lips. He lowered his head and teethed each nipple, drawing it out and relishing in the masochism of your sharp nails clawing down his back. “Deeper, my darling. You alone hold the privilege of marking my flesh. Let my scars mirror yours.”

With caution, you shifted your hands to rest upon his firm pectoral muscles before you could accidentally claw out his spinal cord.

Sukuna’s touch drifted from your bruised breasts to cradle your face, guiding your gaze to meet his crimson one.

Encouraged by his comforting presence, you arched your hips forward with newfound confidence. His fingers swept through your hair, pushing it away as he offered reassuring nods.

Now, the reins rested firmly within your grasp.

“Fuck . . .” Leaning back against the headboard, he released soft sighs. Warm breaths escaped his parted lips as you continued increasing your ministrations. Your gaze momentarily flickered to your favourite book resting on his bedside table before returning to his face.

Suddenly seized by an impulse, you leaned forward to plant a tender kiss upon his lips, trailing upward to gently brush against his cheekbones, tracing the intricate markings lining his skin.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Someone must play the role of the tender one between us, Sukuna,” you answered, mirroring the attention he had given your scars during your initial encounter. With each kiss, you felt his eyes tracing your movements, following the path of your lips as they journeyed across his face, landing upon his nose or the pulse of his neck.

“My beloved,” Sukuna’s voice caressed your ears, drawing your focus entirely to him, “listen closely to my words.”

You halted your movements, a curious expression dancing in your eyes. “What troubles you?”

With a deliberate motion, he guided your hips forward, his gaze unwavering. “Throughout the night, I will fill your womb ceaselessly, and in mere weeks, you shall carry my legacy within you.” Your heart leaped into your throat, fluttering with an overwhelming rush of emotion. “Peril will shadow your every step. Those who oppose us will stop at nothing to eliminate your life and the life of our child. Do you comprehend the gravity of our situation?”

You blinked back the tears, resigning yourself to the inevitable.

“But I vow upon my honour, such an atrocity shall never come to pass. I will sever entire bloodlines if even a single strand of your precious hair were harmed.” His movements quickened as he thrusted into you.

Your grip tightened on his shoulders again, gasping for breath between erratic pants.

“At dawn’s light, all concubines shall be reassigned to palace duties. You need only point out those who have dared to trouble you, though their transgressions are already known to me.” His motions became more intense as he pressed you onto your back, pinning your arms above your head. “And when the sun graces the horizon, you, my beloved, shall be proclaimed as my queen.”

Your voice wailed through the chamber as you cried out his name, drowning in the waves of scorching pleasure never before experienced.

Instead of seeing celestial bodies colliding, your gaze met the deep crimson of his irises, those same eyes that had captivated you on that very first night.

“Sukuna . . . ”

With a smile mirroring his own, you tilted your head upward, silently beckoning him to seal the moment with a kiss. As he obliged, his cock pulsed within you, filling you with his warmth until every fibre of your being was tethered with his.

But he didn’t withdraw. Just as he had promised, he intended to keep you close throughout the night, to claim you as his own.

And in that moment, as you laid with him, you welcomed the dawn of a new chapter standing beside him, prepared to reign as Sukuna Ryomen’s queen.

[cartridgeconverter]

mixed feelings on the jdf mozart album. on the one hand his ornamentations sound very nice divorced from the context. on the other hand... that's a new song. you wrote a whole different song.

[sapphicautistic]

In the 1980s in France, musicologists and archaeologists Iégor Reznikoff and Michel Dauvois used their voices to explore caves with notable Paleolithic wall paintings. By singing simple notes and whistling, they mapped their perceptions of the caves’ acoustics. They found that paintings were often located in places that were particularly resonant. Animal paintings were common in resonant chambers and in places along the walls that produced strong reverberation. As they crawled through narrow tunnels, they discovered painted red dots exactly located in the most resonant places. The entrances to these tunnels were also marked with paintings. Resonant recesses in walls were especially heavily ornamented.

In a 2017 study, a dozen acousticians, archaeologists, and musicians measured the sonic qualities of cave interiors in northern Spain. The team, led by acoustic scientist Bruno Fazenda, used speakers, computers, and microphone arrays to measure the behavior of precisely calibrated tones within the cave. The caves they studied contain wall art spanning much of the Paleolithic, dating from about forty thousand years to fifteen thousand years ago. The art includes handprints, abstract points and lines, and a bestiary of Paleolithic animals including birds, fish, horses, bovids, reindeer, bear, ibex, cetaceans, and humanlike figures. From hundreds of standardized measurements, the team found that painted red dots and lines, the oldest wall markings, are associated with parts of the cave where low frequencies resonate and sonic clarity is high due to modest reverberation. These would have been excellent places for speech and more complex forms of music, not muddied by excessive reverberation. Animal paintings and handprints were also likely to be in places where clarity is high and overall reverberation is low but with a good low-frequency response. These are the qualities that we seek now in modern performance spaces.

Sounds Wild and Broken, David George Haskell

[creamflix]

christmas event looks so kewl! can i have sukuna + mistletoe (naughty) please? 😽😽

you’ve received a gift! ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ want your own gift? ・:〃➜ click here! 

SUKUNA has never understood your fascination with christmas. 

the baubles, the garlands, the lights strung across the tree — it all seems excessive and nonsensical to him. when he catches you draping the tree with shiny ornaments, your tongue peeking out in concentration, he’s half-tempted to ask if this is some kind of sacrificial ritual. 

but he keeps quiet. mostly because watching you enjoy yourself so thoroughly feels... oddly satisfying.

the mistletoe, though? that’s where things get complicated.

he first notices it dangling from the ceiling in the entryway. you don’t bother explaining it, brushing past with a knowing smile, leaving him to squint suspiciously at the strange green plant. 

“warding off spirits?” he mutters to himself. “what kind of pathetic charm is this?”

of course, his assumptions are shattered after an admittedly frustrating deep dive into google, of all things. the man searches everything from “green thing christmas ceiling” to “magic christmas plant meaning” before finally landing on an answer. 

and when he learns the truth? his mood sours instantly.

a kiss. it’s some absurd tradition that demands he kiss you underneath this thing. 

you’re his; he doesn’t need some ridiculous plant giving him permission. but then again... maybe it’s not so bad if it’s an excuse to remind everyone else of that fact.

the next time you catch someone entering a room under mistletoe, sukuna is already there, arms crossed, posture tense. his crimson gaze flickers between the plant and the unsuspecting victim like a predator sizing up its prey.

“don’t even think about it,” he growls lowly, stepping deliberately into their path. his presence alone is enough to make them reconsider, slinking away without so much as a glance in your direction.

“suku!” you scold, but your amusement betrays you.

“don’t ‘suku’ me,” he snaps, scooping you into his arms and positioning you directly under the mistletoe. “you think i’m going to let anyone else get near you? this is my right.”

his lips claim yours in a possessive kiss, fierce and unrelenting, as if marking you all over again. and when you pull back, breathless, his lips merely shift to your jaw, trailing downward in a heated path.

“sukuna,” you murmur, half-laughing, half-scolding. “that’s enough! it’s just a silly tradition.”

“no,” he grumbles, hands sliding to your waist and tugging you closer. “it’s a tradition that involves my human. and if some stupid plant demands it, i’m not going to stop at one kiss.”

his lips find the sensitive spot on your neck, and you can feel his sharp teeth scrape teasingly against your skin. one of his hands creeps beneath your shirt, splayed warm and possessive across your back.

“kuna, stop! your hands —”

“my hands are exactly where they belong.” his voice is a low rumble, a mix of defiance and desire. but he finally relents, letting out a dramatic sigh as he pulls away, though his hands linger at your waist.

“fine. you win. for now.”

you shake your head, biting back a smile. “you’re impossible.”

“and you love it.” his smirk is smug, but there’s something softer in the way his thumb brushes against your hip, his gaze lingering on your face.

truthfully, he still doesn’t understand half your human traditions, but if they involve you — your laughter, your blush, your kisses — he supposes they aren’t so bad.

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[moonchild033]

Astro Observations -4💃

Here we go with part-4!!! Every time I make an observation post, I get so excited lol 😭🤩

(These observations are based on the whole sign system, sidereal charts and all obs are subject to change with other aspects in the chart, so don't conclude anything with a single placement) ❤

Virgo venus- Possibilities of your valuable items/luxury products getting stolen OR you might be prone to losing it carelessly. In the case of jewelry, keep silver and diamond ornaments safely. Ur spouse can have high expectations on you and never gets easily satisfied. High standards spouse lol 😶❤

4H lord in 2H- Could've faced many health issues till the age of 10 or around that age.🤒

Stellium in 3/6/10/11 houses- They have a very competitive mindset, an urge to be first in everything, tendency to stress themselves out bcoz of their own set standards, they might feel like a failure even if they get second place, FIRST is the ONLY WIN 🤯❤

Having more than 3 planets in rahu/ketu ruled stars- Prone to be victims of evil eyes and black magic procedures. 🤐

Virgo ascendant - You could be the one doing all the work but the credits will be stolen by colleagues or seniors more often.😔❤

Mercury in retrograde - These people could have out of the box or a different type of brilliance but they're usually slow and find it difficult to sustain in a conventional educational system.👍❤

Planets in parivartana (Mutual Exchange of houses)- The retrograde, debilitation or affliction of the planets in parivartana gets cancelled because it will attain an almost exalted position.😌❤

Taurus ascendant - They have the innate destiny to sacrifice a lot for their family, especially for siblings and their mother could be the one piling them up with responsibilities.😐❤

Alone Jupiter without being aspected by benefic planets- Potential to damage the house themes where Jupiter is present. This can be rectified if moon/mars/sun/ketu is present in kendra houses when counted from Jupiter's position.💛

Rahu/Ketu/Saturn in Cancer especially in Man's chart- Faces many disheartening stuff from females in their life. Their trust will be broken and prone to be played by female friendships, even by girlfriend, colleagues etc. Most females in their life hide ulterior motives even if they're too good in front of their face.🤧❤

Rahu/Ketu/Saturn in Libra especially in Woman's chart- Prone to get Toxic female friendships who can manipulate their mind and give wrong advice, ultimately poisoning your thinking. Even though Saturn is exalted in Libra, this is one of the downsides you might face and have to carefully choose & overcome.😬❤

Air risings - If we are talking about difficult childhood placements in general without much analysis, air risings would've faced many struggles in childhood than other risings imo.😧

5H/10H lord in Rahu/Ketu ruled stars- You could get ancestral karma from dad's side in case of rahu ruled star and from mom's side in case of ketu ruled star. You might feel extreme emotions or inexplicable connection with that particular side's dead ancestors.💯

Saturn in conjunction with Rahu/Ketu OR Saturn in Rahu/Ketu ruled stars- Anything bad you do will revert back immediately or with the same timing (ex. If u stole credits of a colleague and that person worked for that project for 3 months, in near future you would've worked the EXACT three months and someone else will get credits for that). The 'karma' aspect works really well in this placement and you will have a conscious realization phase too.🙊

Mars-Saturn conjunction especially in Capricorn - Nervousness, Anxiety disorders can be a common occurrence to this person. They could have a racing heart, excessive sweat, cold hands, leg shaking, trembling hands, stuttering and other accompanied symptoms of anxiety even for the tiniest task. They should work on overcoming getting nervous over everything.😰🤗

Let's Learn and Grow Together!💋💅

With Love -Yashi ❤⚡

Masterlist 💖

[felinefractious]

Could we have a side by side comparison of the "old style" Maine Coones and the "newer look" Maine coones?

MetatronEyes (Left) was my favorite cattery, unfortunately they’re no longer breeding but many of their cats are a good examples of how a Maine Coon should look as well as what to look for in a breeder.

Meanwhile Tassel Magic (Right) is among the worst offenders when it comes to producing “new type” Maine Coon’s and has an appropriately poor reputation to boot because of how many sick cats they’ve sold.

This can be a little subjective since cats are not cookie cutter and there is some variation to be expected, not every individual will be show quality and that’s alright. You’ll notice some of MetatronEyes cats are more type heavy than others.

On top we have a well-balanced queen from Mångravs compared to the excessively type heavy queen on the bottom from Blue Ridge.

Another MetatronEyes cat (Left) this time compared to a MarvelForest cat (Right), another frequent offender with “new style” variants of the breed.

On the left we have a cat from TaigaLynx as a good example of the breed and on the right we have a cat from Caring Lions which is… a less stellar example.

The Maine Coon is supposed to be an impressive, functional breed. European lines are often more type-y than American lines and that’s fine, many good breeders work with both… but this is not an ornamental breed, they should not look like bad taxidermy.

[touchlikethesun]

one of the activities wei wuxian taught a-yuan to keep him preoccupied while wei wuxian actually needed to focus was braiding, so a-yuan could sit with wei wuxian and braid lots of little braids into his hair - wei wuxian rarely put his hair up anyways in those days, and it kept a-yuan busy and happy.

once small wildflowers started to bloom, a-yuan became obsessed with giving everyone flowers because they always smiled and laughed when he did, and he liked when they smiled and laughed. when he offered one of these wildflowers to his xian-gege, wei wuxian accepted it but taking note of the long stem and delicate white petals, an idea came to him. he asked a-yuan if he could show him something, and when a-yuan’s eyes lit up with excitement, wei wuxian asked him if he could undo his ponytail and give him a “super extra special” braid, which ofc a-yuan was all for!! so wei wuxian combed his fingers thru a section of a-yuan’s hair, pulling back his bangs on one side and, separating out 3 strands and braiding it halfway down before sliding the delicate flower into place, showing an attentive a-yuan how to secure the flower and braid the stem in, before securing the end of the braid with a spare cord.

there were stars in a-yuan’s eyes, so pleased with the braid xian-gege had given him, and he ran around the camp showing granny, a-qing, and all the other aunties and uncles the pretty flower in his hair, and from that day on, it was a common occurrence to see the folks of the burial mounds with a flower or two braided into their hair, and if the yiling patriarch walked around on his days off with flowers down his back and a little charge in his arms working even more flowers in, well that was for them and not for their enemies to know.

after lan wangji rescued lan yuan from the burial mounds, and after lan yuan had recovered from his terrible fever, lan wangji made an effort to spend time with the little one, even if he felt like he was falling apart at the seems, that was a problem for adults, not children. even so, lan wangji often found it hard to muster up words under normal circumstances, and when confronted with lan sizhui who reminded him so much of — well. but lan sizhui didn’t seem to mind how quiet lan wangji was. the little boy seemed completely content to sit with lan wangji in silence, but he had an odd fascination with braiding lan wangji’s hair, and especially braiding with flowers picked from off the path up to the quiet room. technically, excessive ornamentation was forbidden in the cloud recesses. but it made lan suzhui so happy. and lan wangji had already broken so many rules, what was one more to keep a child smiling?

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Night

beautiful words with "night" to try to include in your poem/story

Afternight - evening

Aleknight - obsolete: tippler (i.e., one who drinks liquor especially by habit or to excess)

Benight - to overtake by darkness or night especially before the end of a journey

Birthnight - the night in which a person is born

Knightess - obsolete: a woman filling the role of a knight either as a fighter or as a member of an order of chivalric import; female knight; the wife of a knight

Knightia - a small genus of Australasian trees or shrubs (family Proteaceae) with alternate leathery leaves, showy racemose flowers, and follicular fruit

Nightfall - the close of the day; dusk

Nightfowl - night bird

Nightjar - any of a family (Caprimulgidae) of medium-sized long-winged crepuscular or nocturnal birds (such as the whip-poor-wills and nighthawks) having a short bill, short legs, and soft mottled plumage and feeding on insects which they catch on the wing

Nightscope - an optical device usually using infrared radiation that enables a person to see objects in the dark better

Nightshade - any of a genus (Solanum of the family Solanaceae, the nightshade family) of herbs, shrubs, and trees having alternate leaves, cymose flowers, and fruits that are berries and including some poisonous weeds, various ornamentals, and important crop plants (such as the potato and eggplant)

Nighttide - nighttime; a flood tide occurring during the night

Sennight - archaic: the space of seven nights and days; week

Unbenight - archaic: to free from night or darkness

Yesternight - archaic: on the night last past

If any of these words inspire your writing, do tag me or send me a link. I'd love to read your work!

More: Word Lists

[peggyao3]

Pt. 24 - Somnophilia

A/N: Oh lawd, the further we come with Kinktober, the less I hold back 😂 Also - Sorry if you received a notification for this yesterday and it disappeared. Tumblr decided not to show it in the tags, so I decided to delete and try to repost later 🥺

TAGS: she/her AFAB FMC, dead dove, non-con, creampie, slight breeding kink

WORD COUNT: 580

His darling sleeps so soundly, face tucked into her pillow. The curve of her ass swells against her blanket, one knee raised almost to her chest to create an alluring, empty space between her thighs.

Silently, Feyd-Rautha crosses the distance between the door and her, sliding his lounge trousers down his strong, pale legs. Fully naked, he approaches her with slow, prowling gait. The mattress dips under his weight, but he is not afraid of waking her. The poor thing empties a mug of tea laced with soporific each night to deliver her from nightmares.

It's too bad that the very thing that haunts her, now shuffles her blanket and nightgown out of the way and sits between her legs. The thing is, his darling insists that she's not his darling and every attempt to break her in on his cock has ended in tears and hysteria.

Idly, Feyd-Rautha plays with her cunt, spreading her lower lips apart and trailing his middle finger across her slit which quickly dampens when he strokes the pad of his other thumb across her little bundle of nerves that tries to hide against the mattress. His middle finger sinks so easily into her channel and he watches it disappear knuckle by thick knuckle.

She could take him so well, if only she let him. He could make her so wet and hot for him, if she just trusted him.

Two fingers, a little faster. His digits come back out shiny and slick and he spreads the excess essence across her clit and labia before gently inching her raised leg further out of the way. His thick, heavy cock jumps against her wet slit all on its own when he cages her beneath his frame. His darling stirs.

"Ssshhh, it's just me~" Feyd-Rautha purrs softly and waits for her  to settle again before proceeding to sink into her hot, slick channel. Even now, she's still so tight and he has to force himself to thrust slowly, grounding himself with his teeth at her sweet, soft shoulder.

Her cunt clenches briefly when he is sheathed to the root and her ass cushions the sharp edges of his pelvis. Feyd-Rautha can't help the chuckle that wells deep and raspy in the pit of his chest.

"Hello, my darling," he purrs against her ear, tongue tracing the shape of it. "Do you recognize me?" Languidly, he pulls out halfway and sinks back inside, massaging her little pussy with the thick inches of his glorious cock.

This is Feyd-Rautha's most dangerous form. Not draped in armor and blades, not in his ornamental uniform or even in his war paint. He is at his most dangerous when he wears only his bare skin and his only weapons are his voice and his cock.

He picks up the pace slowly, curling his arms under her limp body in a parody of an embrace, yearning to protect his most precious possession when all she wants is protection from him.

Feyd wonders if she'll regret having her sleeping draught or be thankful for it, when she finds his spend between her thighs come the morning. He cannot wait to see the painful realization in her eyes, the shock and disgust when she realizes he has planted his seed in her belly at night.

Yes, it will hurt him, but he is willing to endure, firmly believing that sooner or later, she will beg for the pleasure of his cock and fall asleep with her cunt hot and waiting for him.

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst

[mrvelocipede]

Given the current level of custom wallpaper technology, you could conceivably print these things out really big and actually stick them to a ceiling. And then hang glittering ostentatious chandeliers from them. I could almost see it working, someplace like the Cheesecake Factory.

[coolancientstuff]

The Temple of Venus in Baalbek (Heliopolis), Lebanon was built in the 200s CE to honor the goddess of love, sex and fertility. Venus was derived by the Romans from the Greek goddess Aphrodite, who herself was inspired by the Near Eastern goddess Astarte. This temple's cult likely incorporated elements of both Roman Venus and the local Astarte.

The temple itself has many novel and unique features found nowhere else in Classical architecture. Five semicircular exedrae run along the outer wall, framing arched niches decorated with carved doves and seashells that probably contained statues in ancient times. Above each niche a festoon of leaves and fruit hangs, symbolizing fertility. The pentagonal column bases are without parallel in antiquity, and no other examples are known. The interior is less well preserved, but it can be safely assumed by the lavishness of the construction that it was once sumptuously decorated with paintings, statues, colored marbles and golden ornaments.

The temple has an eventful history, being also a site of persecutions of early Christians under Julian the Apostate, the last pagan emperor of Rome. Sozomen, a late antique historian, says in his Ecclesiatical Histories:

The inhabitants of Heliopolis, near Mount Libanus, and of Arethusa in Syria, seem to have surpassed them in excess of cruelty. The former were guilty of an act of barbarity which could scarcely be credited, had it not been corroborated by the testimony of those who witnessed it. They stripped the holy virgins, who had never been looked upon by the multitude, of their garments, and exposed them in a state of nudity as a public spectacle and objects of insult. After numerous other inflictions they at last shaved them, ripped them open, and concealed in their viscera the food usually given to pigs; and since the swine could not distinguish, but were impelled by the need of their customary food, they also tore in pieces the human flesh.

I am convinced that the citizens of Heliopolis perpetrated this barbarity against the holy virgins on account of the prohibition of the ancient custom of yielding up virgins to prostitution with any chance comer before being united in marriage to their betrothed. This custom was prohibited by a law enacted by Constantine, after he had destroyed the temple of Venus at Heliopolis, and erected a church upon its ruins."

Whether Sozomen's account is an exaggeration or not, there is archaeological evidence that the temple was indeed converted into a church, dedicated to Saint Barbara. According to the (comparatively late) Christian legend, Barbara was the daughter of a Heliopolitan dignitary, Dioscorus, who still worshipped the old gods. When he learned that she had been baptized, he killed Barbara and was immediately struck by lightning. Up til the present day, Saint Barbara is invoked if people want to be protected against lightning.

Because the monument continued to be in use, the temple of Venus is comparatively well-preserved. Unbroken religious activity has continued on almost the same site since antiquity, and there's still a small mosque next to the temple of Venus. The Greek-Orthodox church of Baalbek, which is close by, is still dedicated to Saint Barbara.

[cosmicsuperstars]

spending time,

BLADE is...

slightly awkward, at the heart of it. logically, he knows what a date is and how it works. it's just...been a while.

to him, time is well-spent if spent in your company. that's all.

the two of you could curl up together on the couch, your head tucked under his arm while you read a book and he does...something; a time when he can breathe and bask in your presence.

of course, if there's somewhere you want to go, he's not opposed.

one good thing about having BLADE for a partner is that he's tall and he looks like he's perpetually going through his emo stage, so crowds part for him like he's moses.

he's not overly interested in material objects — but he likes seeing how your face lights up when you spot something you like.

the stellaron hunters are, by no means, broke so expect him to try and buy you a few things. of course, if you try to refuse on the grounds of not wanting him to spend money, he'll simply say that if money is a problem, i can always steal something.

and you can never tell if he's joking or not.

for JING YUAN, the only time he will ever take a break while working is if you tell him you want to go out somewhere.

those who work at the seat of divine foresight herald you as a saviour, a god amongst mortals, for being one of the few people who can get the general to disregard working.

he loves to go on walks with you.

just enjoying the luofu's atmosphere, seeing the way the light shines against your hair and the gingko leaves flutter against your face — it feels like a blessing.

he slips his hand into yours while you traverse those well-worn paths, his thumb rubbing at your pulse point.

as the long-lived general, he's definitely racked up a lot of money over the years. so, as a consequence, expect him to pull out his wallet for every. single. thing your eyes land on. it could only be a rapid, one-second flutter, and then — JING YUAN is suddenly conversing with the smiling shopkeep.

sometimes, he likes to nap with you.

the two of you, curled up together; he runs warm, like a personal furnace. his arms wrap around your waist and he nuzzles into the junction of your shoulder and neck, sleepily mouthing words there.

i love you.

LUOCHA's idea of spending time is somewhat unorthodox.

he enjoys listening to you talk about your day: whether you're just complaining about how utterly exhausting it was, or excitedly telling him about this adorable dog you saw, it doesn't matter.

just hearing your voice, memorising the shift in cadence and the lilts that signify your different expressions is enough for him.

if you're particularly bored, he'll drag you out for some window-shopping. LUOCHA is very particular about gifts — he's not one for excessive splurging on multiple trinkets, but he's more than willing to buy something expensive that suits you.

perhaps, an ornament to adorn your hair? a signed copy of your favourite book? or even, some jewellery that matches with his?

he's also rather fond of times when you two just...stay at home.

whether you're watching movies together, or working on different projects in the same room, or even playing some video games — it's all something that warms him to his core, if only because you are there with him.

it helps that he can kiss you without interruption, too.

💬 DIRECTOR'S CUT: the luofu guys! very silly. they are all so interesting. on another note, jy continues to be my number one blorbo. please enjoy!

[i-arch-my-backula]

Tis the season: Lestat De Lion Court and Louis De Pointe Du Lac X reader

This is a silly little thing I wrote for the holidays. Sorry for barely posting, I got a new job and I've been busy.

Warnings: None I can think of

“You seriously bought a Christmas tree this year?” Lestat asks Louis, his arms folded over his chest. You’re in the other room, working on gathering out the decorations for the tree while the two of them bicker over this.

“It’s not like we don’t have the money to do this for them. I know you think it’s a waste of space and just, stupid in general but you have to understand that they’re still human and humans like to celebrate things. They don’t live as long as we do, so let’s let them enjoy this.” Louis retorts to him, shaking his head slightly. Lestat rolls his eyes and huffs a breath through his nose. 

“If we had already turned them then this wouldn’t be an issue. I don’t see why you care so much about them staying human for as long as possible. We could preserve their youth, Louis. They can have the choice I never had.” Lestat exclaims, hearing your footsteps sounding from the other room. 

You walk back in, holding a box of ornaments and beaming proudly. Louis smiles at you but Lestat doesn’t even try to hide his annoyance at Louis. 

“Some of these were from my family. I can’t wait to celebrate Christmas with the two of you this year.” You say, setting down the box on a table and taking out a few ornaments. Louis nods and gives Lestat a quick glare before he walks over and takes out a few ornaments too. 

“I’m very happy to celebrate with you this year too Y/N. I can’t wait to see what this season has to offer us.” Louis says, hanging a few ornaments on the tree. Lestat just stands and watches the two of you decorate the tree. 

“I don’t exactly see a point in celebrating this year, after you turn-” 

“If they turn.” Louis corrects. 

“Time won’t matter much and celebrating things will be less of an important ordeal to you. If you ask me, this whole thing is just excessive.” Lestat says with a wave of his hand. 

“Since when have you had an issue with things being excessive?” You ask, looking over at him as you gather more ornaments to put on the tree. Louis chuckles and Lestat suppresses a smile. 

“Well humans do have a limited time here on earth and it’s important to us to celebrate things while we can. It’s fun to decorate for seasons and maybe be a little ‘excessive’ with our celebrating. You too were human once Lestat. You should understand what it’s like to want to celebrate the small things in the world.” 

“Always so dramatic.” Lestat says dismissively as he walks over to the chase and takes a seat, watching you and Louis decorate the tree together.

“Do you remember when you used to celebrate Christmas?” You ask. Louis thinks for a moment as he hangs up more ornaments on the tree.

“Not exactly. I do remember a good amount of my life but I don’t exactly remember every detail about my Christmas as a human.” 

“Oh he’s so resistant to change I thought he’d die the first year he was a vampire,” Lestat says, stretching his arms across the couch in a flamboyant fashion, “You have to understand it took Louis decades before he would even drink fully from a human. He lived off rats and various animals, and I’m the dramatic one.” He says sarcastically. 

You chuckle and Louis gives Lestat a look. You don’t get too involved in their bickering, you much prefer to watch them bicker back and forth rather than actually engage with it. Despite their bickering back and forth, it still feels like a great Christmas season.

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 1: A Walk In The Forest With The Devil

Content warning: dubious consent (Sukuna touching reader. This chapter is quite stressful, please read with care), gore, implied cannibalism, panic attack, description of a dead body

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

Heir - Public Memory Feral Love - Chelsea Wolfe

* * * * *

Prologue | Chapter 2

* * * * *

The day of your wedding felt uncomfortably hot. Everything stuck with humidity, creating a hellish, suffocating atmosphere.

Considering the situation you faced, it fits perfectly. 

Fidgeting with your silk gloves, you eye yourself in the mirror, clothed in the most ridiculous kimono you've ever seen. Your sister, a calming presence behind you, has spent hours meticulously assisting with your wedding preparations.

You notice she has been babbling on about something; however, a persistent buzzing in your ears distracts you, rendering her words unintelligible. You watch her lips move rapidly, hands gesturing excessively, yet you hear nothing. She is like a vibrant river, flowing and gushing with life, while you feel like a dead animal—rotting on the ground, forgotten.

A bead of sweat threatens to escape from your hairline, and you worry it will ruin your sister's efforts. Although you don't particularly care, she has been working on this for quite some time.

You blink twice, staring at your gloved hands, wringing them as you gather your thoughts.

"Sorry, Yuna, what did you say?" you ask as you snap out of your daze.

Your sister briefly pouts before returning to secure the final piece of your garment. She seems to believe this is a genuine wedding, oblivious that her safety hinges on your compliance. All she knows is that your father has arranged for you to marry Ryomen Sukuna, aiming to secure peace between your clans, which is a lie.

"I said, if it's worth anything, you look beautiful right now," Yuna remarks, stepping back to admire you. She licks her thumb and smooths a few stubborn strands of hair that refuse to cooperate in the heat.

Beauty is the last thing on your mind. 

"Thank you. I feel lovely," you manage to say through gritted teeth, swallowing her compliment and forcing a smile. All you want is to reassure her until this is over.

Your sister smiles warmly and moves around you, ensuring every detail is perfect. You observe a slight furrow on her brow as she focuses on enhancing your beauty. In your mother's absence, she's taking on this role admirably, which breaks your heart. Thoughts of her bring a lump to your throat, so you turn your attention back to the task at hand.

You fill your mind with the plan to assassinate your future husband. Knowing it won't be simple.

The King of Curses is a powerful adversary, and you lack combat skills. Remembering your father's strict instruction to avoid publicly killing him so as not to dishonour the attending clans, you opt for seduction as your strategy. The plan is to make him vulnerable and catch him off guard. Perhaps you can end it all with some batting of your eyelashes, a few chaste touches, and a kiss or two.

"What do you think he will be like?" Yuna asks as she fusses with some gaudy ornament in your hair.

You pause to consider several possibilities: a psychopath, a cannibal, a fiend. Which description would comfort her more?

"I'm certain he will be the perfect gentleman," you reply flatly, making sure not to reveal anything as you observe your sister in the mirror's reflection. You notice her tongue poking out in concentration as she arranges your hair.

"Do you think he will be gentle, with all those hands and mouths of his?" she asks, blushing as she adjusts the hairpiece.

You freeze. Did she really have to bring that up now?

"You're asking me about that?" you give her a pointed glare.

You had never met Sukuna and had only heard stories of his unusual physical abnormalities. You understood her curiosity, but still...

She shrugs and laughs. The sound is light and airy, reflecting her carefree nature. 

“I was curious what you thought was all,” she casually remarks before continuing her task.

You won't experience being with him like that because he'll be dead, or at least you hope so. You've never seduced a man before, but you understand how men operate. They appear to desire anything that moves, and you know you'll look stunning today. How could he possibly resist?

Knock, knock, knock.

"Come in!" you and your sister say simultaneously. The harmony warms your heart.

Your father enters the room, and your mood instantly sours. You glare at him in the mirror before turning away as he approaches.

"My lovely girls!" He says with a smile that feels more cutting than warm, his arms outstretched. You avoid his gaze, nervously fidgeting with your hands again, tempted to pull your sister closer but restraining yourself.

"Father!" Yuna exclaims cheerfully, moving towards him and linking her arm through his. You want nothing more than to get up and shake some sense into her. "Doesn't she look beautiful?"

As they approach, your father scrutinizes you in the mirror while you return his glare. He examines every detail, clearly expecting you to look impeccable and behave respectfully to charm the monster.

Through your eyes, an unspoken conversation unfolds. You watch as he places a firm hand on your sister's waist and another on your shoulder. His fingers dig into you.

You flinch.

Don’t touch me.

You despise being touched, especially by your father, whose grip is always too tight, too forceful. And at this moment, the threat is unmistakable. You swallow the lump in your throat and resist the urge to pull away.

"Beautiful doesn't even begin to describe her. She's positively glowing like a dying star just waiting to burn out," he remarks with a hint of irony.

The smile you force in response is like bitter poison.

Meanwhile, your oblivious sister moves to the corner of the room to fetch something.

Your father leans in close to you as you face the mirror.

"Remember, if you dare to disappoint me, her body will be the punishment," he whispers ominously before straightening up. You maintain a composed expression as your sister returns with a stem of wisteria flowers.

She stands before you, delicately placing the fragile blooms in your hair to complete the look.

"There," she announces, stepping back next to your father to assess her handiwork. "You look perfect." You're almost tempted to appreciate your appearance, but really, what’s the point?

Knock, knock, knock.

"Come in!" Your sister calls out alone this time while you and your father exchange hostile glances.

The door opens, and standing there is Onishi, your father’s chief advisor—a man known for his vile reputation. Now that you and your sister are adults, his lecherous looks only became more pointed and invasive, causing your stomach to knot. You remembered all too well how he used to stare at you both as young girls with a shameless hunger that made your skin crawl.

“Lord Kasai, the wedding procession is ready to depart,” he informs your father. After a bow, he quickly leaves the room, briefly glancing at your sister on his way out.

Time to go.

Your sister squeals with excitement, making you wrinkle your nose. She can be so clueless sometimes.

"Well, my darlings, let's not keep Lord Sukuna waiting," your father says, pulling you both close under his arms. You resent this display of control he's asserting, and you lean away from the embrace. "I'm certain today will be unforgettable."

* * * * *

The Kasai clan compound, your home, was a three-day ride from where you had prepared today. By midday, everyone departs on horseback.

Your sister and father lead the procession. Behind them, you follow closely, flanked by several attendants who occasionally offer you means to cool yourself. A large contingent of clan members trail behind.

The road stretches southward, guiding your journey toward the shrine where the wedding celebrations would soon commence. It will also become your new home, which won’t be permanent in your mind.

Riding a horse in your elaborate multi-layer garment is challenging, especially compounded by the relentless sun that seems determined to wreak havoc on your appearance. You are certain your hair is unravelling, and your makeup is smudging down your face. Your sister will be upset when she sees you dismount.

As the procession moves deeper into the forest towards its destination, you can’t ignore your horse's peculiar behaviour. Its ears stand upright, constantly swivelling as if attentively listening to an unseen presence. A low whine emanates from its throat, and its tail twitches nervously. You can feel the tension in its muscles beneath you, as though it was on the verge of bolting away from whatever was unsettling it.

"Easy now, girl," you whisper soothingly, placing a calming hand on the horse's neck. Despite your attempts to quiet her, she exhales sharply through her nostrils, betraying her fear.

Lifting your head, you let your gaze sweep over the packed dirt road and the dense forest flanking it on both sides.

Nothing.

Then, suddenly, a murder of crows erupts from the treetops ahead, their harsh caws muted over the pounding of hooves. They scatter out of the forest, their black forms stark against the hazy sky.

People say animals can sense danger before it strikes, alert to the presence of a predator.

Your eyes dart to your sister and father leading the group.

"Father!" Your voice rings out with urgency.

"Quiet!" he snaps, the word sharp like a point.

Both of them immediately pull hard on their reins, bringing their horses to an abrupt halt. You tug on your own, urging your horse to stop. The rest of the group follows suit, halting in a rippling sequence behind you. Adjusting your position on the horse, you straighten up and scan the surroundings again, looking for any clue as to why you had suddenly stopped.

The sun seems to be almost burning now. Sweat rolls down your back, soaking your garment. A soft breeze blows through the trees, initially refreshing as it cools your sweaty skin. However, it carries something else with it.

The acrid scent of blood assaults your nostrils. It’s thick, drying out your mouth.

Then you hear the sound of flesh tearing under teeth.

Fear snakes through your bones before you notice the presence of the man—or rather, the monster—crouching near the forest's edge. Partially concealed by the tall grass, his body was tense and flexing as he held a woman—who appeared to be dead—in his lower pair of arms.

You've witnessed plenty of violence and brutality in your time. But nothing could have prepared you for witnessing this. No one was ready. You were acutely aware of the attendant behind, muttering in panicked whispers. You can’t bring yourself to turn and face her, not wanting to give this anomaly your back.

With a horrific crack and a pull, an arm was torn off and flung somewhere unseen. There was more sick, wet pounding of flesh before it eventually quieted. It became unnervingly quiet. Too quiet. Angling his head slightly, he was no doubt aware of your group’s presence. You notice two red eyes on one side, studying everyone while simultaneously looking elsewhere.

Finally, he stood to his full height.

Massive. He is massive.

Even from this distance, his intimidating presence was unmistakable.

He turns, his enormous strides carrying him out of the tall grass. In one of his lower hands, he clutched the dead woman by her forearm.

Your stomach drops as you realize this is your first glimpse of your soon-to-be husband.

He was dressed in only a loose-fitting hakama, which you had initially thought was white but now appears dark and flecked with blood stains. Blush pink hair glints in the harsh sunlight. You've heard rumours about his dual visage, but seeing it in person makes you uncertain where to focus.

Blood drips from his mouth and chin, which he refuses to wipe off. The dead woman he clutches bears wounds on her neck and shoulder that he seems fixated on. A torn flap of skin hangs loosely from where he had been feasting and sways with his movements.

At that moment, a horrible thought crosses your mind: you feel tempted to turn your horse around and flee, which would doom your sister. The fact that you even entertain such an idea bewilders you.

You notice your father's horse taking a few steps, effectively snapping you from your daze.

"Sukuna Ryomen," your father's voice falters as he utters the name. Inwardly, you laugh, pleased to see your father humbled. "As the patriarch of the Kasai clan, I am here to fulfill our agreement to unite our clans through marriage."

Sukuna remains silent. He stands motionless, letting his ominous energy roll off him in waves that make you feel like you are drowning. His four red orbs survey everyone calmly, calculating every detail.

With a subtle scoff, he begins to approach the procession.

Holding the woman tightly in a lower hand, he drags her flaccid body across the ground, allowing the lolling face to scrape over rocks and clumps of dirt. Her hair, which was once a deep copper-brown, is matted with blood, and bits of foliage cling to tangled strands. What used to be a cream-coloured robe is stained red and torn in certain areas.

As he gets closer, the horses' unease swells. They snort and puff outbursts of hot air while their hooves paw at the ground, creating a rhythm of nervous energy.

The monster fixes his gaze on your sister and father. Upon reaching them, he intently studies her. You struggle with every ounce of restraint to keep from intervening.

A muscle feathers in his firmly set jaw, and then he opens his mouth to speak.

"Is this my bride?" he drawls.

His voice is deep, rough, stern, rattling your insides.

You're surprised your sister maintains her composure, betraying no reaction. However, you do notice her shoulders subtly giving way.

"No. This is my other daughter, Yuna." Your father turns toward you, giving you a challenging look to step forward and begin your task.

It’s time to introduce yourself to the King of Curses.

Nudging your frightened horse forward, you begin to approach. The sound of your heartbeat fills your ears, a steady thump that reverberates through your chest and settles heavily in your stomach.

Sukuna lazily drags his attention to you, gaze picking you apart from head to toe, keenly noting the signs of weariness from your journey. He’s displeased. His expression betrays his feelings, darkening with disgust as his upper lip twitches.

"Wait! My Lord, you're not supposed to see the bride yet. It's bad luck," Yuna's voice rises, making you blanch.

Bad luck? This entire cursed nuptial was bad luck.

Ignoring your sister, Sukuna moves forward. His bare feet thud against the packed earth. He drags the mangled woman behind him as if unwilling to let it go. You approach each other until you're face to face. 

Even sitting on horseback, you're just barely at eye level with him. The absurd height difference is evident. Tilting his head slightly, he picks you apart with the same intensity he used to pick apart the body he holds.

A prickling sensation radiates beneath your gloves, tingling from your palms to your fingertips as anxiety creeps in.

Movement on his navel draws your attention away from his face. A slit appears, slowly widening to reveal a large, grotesque maw lined with teeth. As you watch in horrified fascination, a tongue unfurls from the opening, wriggling out and licking the air. Repulsed, you look away.

How can you possibly charm this thing?

Your horse shifts nervously, making you tense as you tightly grip the reins in your hands.

"Easy, girl," you soothe her with a pat before bracing yourself to speak to him for the first time.

“Lord Sukuna, my name is—”

"You're even uglier than I expected," he interrupts harshly, lips curling back in a sneer, showing teeth stained with blood.

The audacity. You clench your teeth, hard, resisting the urge to insult him back.

"My Lord?" you manage to grit out.

Sukuna stares for a moment before bursting into deep, unrestrained laughter.

"My Lord? " he repeats, mocking you. "Oh, she has been trained, how delightful," His laughter edges towards manic as he drops the body, letting it slump beside your mount. "What other tricks did they teach you, little bitch? Tell me."

It takes everything you can to resist the urge to retaliate to his provocations. Your gaze flicks to your father, who shoots you a stern look, silently warning you to behave. You understand that provoking Sukuna could endanger everyone, which you don’t want, especially with your sister present.

“Nothing else to say? How disappointing,” Sukuna hums, crossing his upper arms over his chest.

Oh, how you want to cut him down.

“My Lord, I would—”

"Daughter," your father interjects firmly before you can finish your sentence. "Lord Sukuna, we would be honoured if you joined us for the rest of the journey to your shrine," he adds, adjusting his posture slightly to assert control.

Sukuna appears deep in thought, maintaining unwavering eye contact with you. It feels like a tense, silent standoff. You make an effort to keep your expression neutral and as charming as possible.

You still feel like you're drowning under those red orbs.

"Hm, no," he says flatly, lifting the body from the ground.

Keeping unbroken eye contact with you, he grips a fistful of the woman's dirtied hair, fingers digging into the skull, his muscles tense. Slowly, he begins to pull. You watch with horror as the flesh stretches until, gradually, it tears. There's a snap as the muscle fibres finally give way and a plume of blood spurts. The head comes off, neck and all.

You gag.

Vomit crawls its way up your throat. You lean forward, gripping your horse for support as you fight the urge to retch. Several unsteady mutters ripple through the rest of your group.

Sukuna, pleased with your reaction, casually discards the body onto the ground. You watch as blood and gore soak into the earth. He then proceeds to stroll toward your father and presents him with the severed head. Your father accepts begrudgingly and without uttering a word.

Is this some kind of power play between two men vying for control?

Sukuna murmurs a few words to your father, casting a final glance in your direction before calmly striding toward the edge of the forest. You watch as he takes measured steps, his figure gradually disappearing into the dense canopy of trees, leaving a tense silence in his wake.

You exhale.

What just happened?

Your father, still holding the woman’s decapitated head, lets it fall to the ground with a wet thud. He then shifts his attention to you, motioning for you to approach. Guiding your mount closer, you position yourself beside him.

"He is wretched," you spit out, glancing over at your sister, whose eyes widen in alarm at your dishevelled state.

"You look awful," she exclaims, her voice filled with concern. "I will need to fix everything once we arrive."

"Why is that your priority at this moment?" you ask incredulously, taken aback by her apparent lack of concern for the situation. The expression on your sister's face in response makes you immediately regret your words, but the scene you've just witnessed is now carved into your mind. That poor woman’s body. Mutilated, torn apart, and discarded on the road to dry up in the sun.

"It doesn't matter now. There won't be time for that," your father interrupts firmly, dismounting his horse and striding towards you.

"Father?" your eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Sukuna requests you accompany him back to the shrine. We will meet you there shortly to commence the ceremony," he emphasizes, pulling you down from your horse, the folds of your kimono cascading around you.

The idea fills you with unease. You weren't prepared to be alone with him yet.

"Is there any way to refuse?" you inquire tentatively.

"No," your father snaps abruptly, gripping your forearm tightly as he steers you towards the tree line. You manage to wrench your arm free, earning a stern glare from him as he steps closer, his face before yours. 

"Use this to your advantage," he whispers urgently. "If you find an opportunity, seize it. You might not have to go through with the wedding."

Your throat constricts as you swallow hard.

“But you saw what he just did. What if he tries to kill me?”

The scowl on his mouth deepens, shifting the cartilage in his nose. His lips purse into a thin line, making the creases and wrinkles on his face appear sharp and unkind.

“He won't. He relishes his power over our family now that we have given you to him. Now get in that fucking forest before I have Onishi slit your sister’s throat or worse.”

Your upper lip quivers at the threat. "Okay," you respond nervously.

"Good, now get going," he says harshly, spittle flying from his mouth. He shoves you into the thick undergrowth.

Stumbling slightly, you manage to turn back for one last glance at your sister. Her anxious gaze meets yours, and you silently mouth, "I'll meet you at the shrine."

Taking a deep breath, you gather the edges of your kimono and step into the dense forest.

The reality of being alone with Sukuna for the first time begins to settle in, causing your palms to sweat inside your silk gloves. You steel yourself, knowing you must find a way to turn this situation to your advantage.

Time to confront the monster yourself.

* * * * *

You continue beyond the tree line. The sound of hooves stomping into the earth echoes behind you, indicating that the procession has resumed its journey toward the shrine.

After a few careful steps, you come to a halt. Sukuna is nowhere in sight. You listen intently for his heavy footfalls, but are only met with silence. You are completely alone out here, which gives you pause, remembering how all the animals reacted in his presence. Your fingers twitch nervously at your side.

You exhale.

Should I call out to him?

“Lord Sukuna?” Your voice echoes.

Silence.

Glancing around, something catches your attention—a spattering of blood on foliage. Perhaps a trail left by him. With no other leads, you decide following the bloodstains might guide you to him.

Lifting your kimono to prevent tripping, you cautiously navigate around a cluster of rocks and tree roots, tracing the path marked by blood. You mutter under your breath; you feel slightly anxious that he might be compelling you to search for him.

With each step, you delve deeper into the forest.

The rising humidity envelops you in an uncomfortable embrace, and a stray strand of hair falls across your vision, adding to the growing disarray. "You are even uglier than I expected," his cruel words rattle around in your brain. Letting out a strained sigh, you realize this isn’t going to be easy.

As you continue to walk, your mind drifts to the dead, partially eaten woman rotting on the dirt road. What if your father’s judgment is wrong, and Sukuna ambushes you? Can you truly consider yourself safe from his wrath merely by your title as his bride? What will become of your sister should anything happen to you? Struggling to quell these unsettling thoughts, you make a concerted effort to regain your focus.

After some time, the blood trail ends, leading you to a flowing stream. The surface sparkles in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. Sweat pools at your lower back, prompting you to pull the fabric away in search of relief. Eyeing the water, you are tempted to wade in to escape the stifling heat. You lick your parched lips and decide to at least dip your toes in.

You step towards it, and the air changes. An ominous energy glides up your body, making you stop.

He’s here, and he’s watching you.

Your heartbeat quickens.

Your eyes dart around the area until his large frame catches your attention. He stands beneath the shadow of an oak tree by the water’s edge, watching you intently, pinning you down with those red orbs. As soon as he sees you've noticed him, he steps away from where he is standing and approaches.

Why must he be so enormous? Every aspect of his presence commands attention. You cannot look or breathe without wanting to crawl away and cower.

A slight tremble in your legs keeps you rooted to the spot as he deliberately takes his time approaching you. His pace is unhurried, as if he possesses all the time in the world while you are the one left waiting.

Tightness knots low in your belly.

At last, he reaches you, towering like a monolith and casting a dark shadow with his presence. You had been looking down, but self-consciously, you lifted your head, straining your neck to look up at him.

You won't deny it. Sukuna is striking in a harsh and cruel sort of way. His features are strong, with a straight nose, an angled jawline, and a defined brow. His neck is thick, all corded muscle, and it’s clear you wouldn’t be able to wrap both of your hands around it if you wanted to strangle him. His blush pink hair is pushed back, set in a way that seems like controlled chaos. The right side of his face, with that mask and its larger orbs, pulls at you the most. The texture of it appears rough, with grooves that jut out slightly. You wonder why or what it even is. The rest of him is dense, with prominent tendons and fibres.

Upon closer inspection, you observe that his face, hands, and chest are now free of blood. A subtle sheen suggests he has recently cleaned himself, likely explaining why the trail led you to this stream. Several beads of water trickle slowly down his neck, outlining paths over his exposed chest.

Your throat dries as you realize you've been staring for too long. You lower your gaze, unable to endure the silence any further, and clear your throat.

“You asked for my presence, my Lord?” you ask nervously.

Without responding, he begins circling you like a predator, each step resonating with the crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot. Unnerved, you keep your eyes fixed on him, striving to maintain your composure as he examines you from every angle. This scrutiny continues several times, with him circling, examining, and deliberating. Finally, he comes to a halt in front of you.

“How old are you?” he probes.

“Twenty-five,” you reply quietly.

“Hm.”

Leaning closer, he reaches out a hand towards your face, compelling you to flinch instinctively. He notices your reaction, which causes him to grin, contorting the black tattoos on his face. Running his fingers through your smudged makeup, his touch is deliberate and firm, leaving impressions on your skin. You bite down on the inside of your cheek. As he pulls his hand back, you notice streaks of makeup staining his fingertips, which he rubs together thoughtfully.

“When we arrive, take that shit off your face,” he remarks curtly.

You clench your fists.

“Of course.”

With a vacant stare fixed on you, he extends his fingers towards you again. This time, he plucks the wisteria flowers that survived the journey and removes them one by one from your hair. Thoughtlessly casting aside the delicate adornments your sister had carefully placed, he then moves away from you. You observe in silence, gazing down at the fragile purple petals strewn upon the ground.

A sharp ache seizes your chest.

“Come,” he orders over his shoulder, beckoning you with two fingers and starting to walk with an air that suggests he expects you to follow like a dog called to heel. Despite the demeaning manner, you gather your hem to hurry after him.

Deeper into the forest. Closer to the shrine.

The walk continues in disquiet, the forest enveloping you with its silence. The canopy above provides scant refuge from the brutal sun, and the thick humidity lingers. Bringing your hand up, you attempt to fan yourself, hindered by the discomfort of your damnable kimono.

As you trail behind Sukuna, you continue assessing him, searching for any weakness or exploitable detail. Your gaze fixes on his four muscular arms, noticing the black ink adorning his skin. Next, the sinewy movement of his back muscles captures your attention.

He looms large and solid. A huge target.

Narrowing your eyes, you focus on the space between his lower shoulders, tracing the lines of his back tattoo. Beneath your silk gloves, your fingers itch uncomfortably, the urge to reach out and end him growing stronger.

With his back turned to you, this could be your chance.

With trembling hands, you peel off one glove and grip it tightly in the other. Moving cautiously, you edge closer to Sukuna, careful to avoid making excessive noise. As you extend your hand, you must concentrate hard to reach your gift. Finally, you sense its faint hum beneath your fingertips. Your heart pounds in your chest, drowning out all other sounds as you prepare for this pivotal moment.

End this before it even begins—

"What the hell are you doing?" Sukuna abruptly halts his steps and turns around, staring down at you.

No!

You retract your hand in a panicked blur, hastily shoving it back into your glove. His lower eyes fixate on your hand while his upper pair scrutinize your flushed, heated face.

“N-nothing,” you mumble, voice barely audible, feeling the space around him growing hostile.

A serious crease forms above his nose.

“You were about to touch me with your vile little fingers. Did I say you could touch me?” His voice turns cold, laced with aggression.

“Well, no, I—”

“Then what the fuck were you doing?” He steps closer, gripping your chin, preventing you from looking away. “I don’t appreciate being touched by mutts.”

Nervously, you wring your hands together, fingers intertwining in a familiar gesture that surfaces whenever you are anxious.

His grip becomes harsh. Dull nails dig into your soft skin. You frantically search for an explanation.

"I apologize," you somehow manage to say, your voice shaky. "I... I wanted to... to see your tattoos up close," you blurt out, immediately regretting the feeble excuse. 

“Tch. You wanted to see my tattoos,” he says, tone heavy with disbelief.

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have done that.” You soften your voice, hoping to diffuse the tension.

“Are you that needy that you felt the necessity to touch me before we are wed?”

Your skin bristles.

“What? No. That’s not it at all.”

Sukuna releases your chin and crosses his arms, staring intently at you as though lost in thought, reflecting deeply on something. You find yourself disliking this demeanour of his. It makes him less predictable and more cunning, as if he’s devising new ways to toy with you.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” he asks suddenly, throwing you off guard.

Irritation and embarrassment flush your face at the intrusive question.

"Excuse me?" You attempt to keep the bitterness out of your voice, though it rises an octave.

“You heard me.” A smirk breaks across his lips. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

Another flush of irritation races up your spine, leaving you peppered with more sweat than you can handle.

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” The words slip out before you can consider their consequences.

The smirk that was there a moment ago is now gone. Sukuna's upper arm snaps out, his fingers engulfing your entire neck. He pulls you close, pressing your clothed chest against his bare one, effectively preventing any swift retaliation. You feel your heartbeat pulsing against the flat of his palm.

Fear worms its way into you. 

Looming into your face, his breath washes over you.

“Are you an imbecile? Do you need me to repeat the question?”

“No,” you breathe as his grip tightens slightly.

He looks down at your face with disdain, waiting for a response.

A heartbeat passes.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, feeling exposed. “I’m a virgin.”

Casting a haughty look, Sukuna smacks his lips together. His grip loosens on your throat, and then it falls away.

He scoffs.

“Of course, look at you. You're pathetic.”

You hold your tongue, casting him a slight frown that you swiftly erase, though he catches it.

"Don't look at me like that," he laughs, the noise lacking any warmth. “Now I see why you wanted my attention." His expression shifts again to something indiscernible. His mood swings are starting to grate on you. "I can address that issue for you sooner, perhaps even immediately."

You take a small step back.

"I beg your pardon, my Lord?" You respond respectfully, uncertain if you heard him correctly. He lifts his eyebrow and steps forward, returning your nervous gaze with a more contentious expression.

“You seem to be hard of hearing. I've had to repeat myself, and it's becoming tedious." His voice is low, the words wrapping around your throat as if they’re his hands.

You step back again.

He moves closer.

Your heart races as you realize you’re not prepared for this moment. You planned to lure the creature and catch him off guard, but now you find yourself caught off guard instead.

"I don't think that's appropriate,” you murmur, edging further away. “Let's wait until after the ceremony.”

"I think I’ll have a taste of my bride before she becomes my wife." His mouth rolls up, flashing a bit of canines that appear all too sharp, while his eyes widen with hunger.

That look tells you everything. You've glimpsed it before, fleetingly on other men but never so intensely.

He’s ravenous.

Your instincts scream at you to run, but fleeing will only cause more trouble. As your father put it, this is an opportunity. Fine, you’ll take it—use it. Find another moment to place a hand on the monster and end him.

Forcing yourself to freeze in place, you watch through your lashes as he approaches slowly, like you're a forest animal he’s afraid of scaring off. How deceptive of him. This thing is not gentle. He’s fucking toying with you.

Reaching down, you subtly pinch one of your silk gloves, preparing to slip it free while he distracts himself with your body. But before you can act, one of his lower hands clamps around your wrist.

You tense, eyes snapping to his.

Shit.

A crooked grin widens across Sukuna’s face, and suddenly, he’s maneuvering you.

Turning you, he pulls you into him so hard that your back thuds against his chest. The impact fuses both your bodies together, your softness to his cutting muscle. Swiftly, he grasps your other wrist, holding both firmly at your sides, while the top pair presses down on your shoulders, forcing you to tilt your head back to meet his red gaze.

“Let's see how sensitive your body is.” His voice deepens as he leans over your shoulder and slides his upper hands down the front of your garment.

Don’t panic. Do not panic.

Two hands dip into the panels of your kimono, and he takes his time while his hands find their way into your undergarment. Massive palms splay against your breasts, cupping them firmly, making you whimper as your body grows warmer.

Sukuna bends, lowering his head next to yours.

"Already whining?" There’s a smirk in his voice, and as he speaks low against your nape, his breath gently stirs your hair. The heavy dampness in the forest, mingling with his warm exhale, threatens to overwhelm you.

Saliva pools then dries in your mouth, and when you try to respond, no words come out.

Pushing up on your sensitive breasts, Sukuna begins to knead and poke his fingertips into the soft flesh. You pant as his left hand comes up to the place where your pulse thrums wildly in your chest.

"Your little heart is beating so fast," he chuckles. "There's no need to be afraid."

That ever-present condescending tone makes your face scrunch up, and you shift uncomfortably.

His right hand clenches reflexively on your breast while the other withdraws from the stuffy garment. You watch nervously as it ascends to the neckline of your kimono, his fingers curling possessively around the delicate fabric.

He stills. You swallow.

“What are you do—”

He rips it open in one smooth motion, exposing your swelling chest and nipples to his eyes.

“There you are,” he hisses.

In shame, you slam your eyes shut. This man, this creature, is the first to ever see you.

“Open your eyes!” The command cuts sharply, but it's softened by something gently brushing the crest of your ear.

Shuddering, you reluctantly obey, only to observe his large fingers circling your areolas, moving lazily, tauntingly.

Your breathing increases, and you become lightheaded. Turning your head slightly, you attempt to focus on anything—a tree, a rock, anything to distract from the moment.

"Don’t look away.” He tightens his lower hands on your wrists to the point of pain. Your head snaps back, and you look down at your heaving chest. "Better."

Leaning closer, Sukuna’s mask comes into view as he presses it against your face. Your soft, damp cheeks rub against it, allowing you to feel its rough texture and protruding edges. His lower eyes fixate on your breasts while his upper eyes cut to the side, locking on you, drinking in every expression.

Your head swims dangerously.

As Sukuna’s hot breath hits the side of your neck, a solitary bead of sweat trails its way down, gliding past your collarbone, tracing the path to your sternum, and down between your breasts. He pauses the circling of your nipples, as both of you stare, transfixed, captivated by the droplet's unhurried journey until it finally disappears into the fabric of your torn clothing.

A low growl rumbles in Sukuna’s chest, a primal sound that signals his imminent action.

After a moment, he makes his move.

The fingers that have been slowly circling your sensitive flesh drawback. Swiftly, he flicks your nipples. Your breasts sway slightly. Then he does it again. Then again. And again. The feeling is acute and sharp. They harden. Your mouth drops open, and you let out a traitorous groan.

“Already?” he chuckles.

Already what?!

Your mind struggles to comprehend what's happening. And he only makes it worse when his fingers latch onto the sensitive tips, pinching and rolling them, making your back arch against his chest.

“Look at you,” he grunts, watching your spine bow and curve.

The forest is gone from your vision now. Heat is everywhere, crawling over you, seeping into your pores.

Another harsh tug makes your whole body tremble uncontrollably.

"N-no more," you mumble, squirming in his grip, face turning into a sticky mess of sweat.

Ignoring you, he applies more pressure to the hardening nubs, rolling them between his thumb and index fingers with no regard for your words.

He flicks your nipples again, earning him a low whine. Leaning in, he drags his sharp canines across your neck, leaving red marks, followed by a swipe of his rough tongue. You freeze, remembering how he used those teeth to rip flesh from the woman on the road. Panicking, you squirm, shuffling your feet in the undergrowth. Sukuna huffs in disapproval and shoves a knee between your thighs to halt your movements.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his gaze fixed downward, reflecting an intense concentration as he continues to torment your nipples. Sharp pinpricks dance across your skull, intensifying the pulsing in your head. You’re certain you are going to blackout. The overwhelming warmth, the blurred vision, the relentless onslaught—it’s too much.

Letting go of one—now sore—bud, he lets that hand drop down to your navel. The descent is slow, pushing through the torn fabric with ease. He presses his fingertips into your damp skin, rippling it and mapping it out with his touch.

“What else are you keeping from me?” His voice becomes impossibly deeper.

“Please. Lord Sukuna,” you rasp.

"Please, what? It seems you’re having issues with speaking and listening.” His hand comes to a stop, splaying just above your cunt. 

Your breath catches in your throat.

You aren’t ready. Not like this. Not with him.

A sudden sensation startles you. On his palm, it’s as if something has opened up unexpectedly, though all you can discern is the sensation of a wet tongue emerging and intimately licking your skin.

Your eyes close as you struggle to breathe, gasping for gulps of the muggy air.

“Please—”

The damp muscle on his palm licks harder, slathering you in a thick coat of saliva, pulling you back so your eyes open again.

His fingers trail lower… lower, then suddenly pause before withdrawing slightly. It’s as if he’s trying to push you over the edge. See how far he can unravel you. But it doesn’t matter. You’re fighting to stay focused, to stay upright even.

“I’m—I’m going to—”

Your words fade as your vision blurs.

Despite Sukuna's solid frame supporting you from behind, your body slackens under the weight of it all: the forced marriage arrangement, your overwhelming responsibility, the looming threat to your sister's life, the oppressive heat, the monster at your back.

Suddenly, you feel nothing holding you up. You're weightless. Sukuna has seemingly let go of your shaking body, and you’re falling, sinking, eyes closing.

As soon as you hit the forest floor, you faint.

* * * * *

🔗 Chapter 2