#girl something possessed me i don't know what

[starsinthesky5]

is miss yail reader miss possessive????

(pls answer as a blurb of her being possessive)

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she doesn’t think she is. really, she doesn’t. she’s not the jealous type because she knows exactly who joe comes home to, she trusts him completely and knows without a doubt that joe only has eyes for her.

but that doesn’t mean she likes sharing.

and tonight? tonight was testing her patience.

they were attending a gala/fundraiser for one of the brand partners joe was working with this year, and she had been perfectly content hanging off his arm, sipping her rosé, making small talk with the right people, just being there to support her man while the spotlight was off of her for a bit.

until she showed up.

some woman--tall, gorgeous, clearly interested, wearing that little red dress that caught everyone's eyes--shuffled over to joe, placing a hand on his arm like she had any right to touch him, and started laughing like the joker at every single thing he said. she was practically undressing him with those icy eyes.

what a stupid move to make while his girlfriend was right next to him.

disgusting.

and joe, bless his oblivious heart, just gave her one of those polite little smiles, nodding along as she talked to him and the group you both were standing with.

her grip tightens around her glass when she notices how the woman is gripping his shoulder, digging her ruby nails into the shoulder that was meant for her to lean her cheek on as she laughed at something silly joe whispered to her.

she isn’t mad at him, not really. it’s not his fault he’s so fucking pretty--so stupidly, irresistibly attractive that women throw themselves at him even when she’s standing right there.

but she is so not in the mood for this tonight.

"look at the floor or ceiling...or anyone else you're feeling. i don't care, take home whoever walks in. just keep your eyes off him, bitch," she thought, feeling her cheeks burn from jealousy.

she sets her drink down, smooths out the skirt of her dress, and slides up next to joe, slipping an arm around his waist like it’s second nature. her other hand--her claiming hand--lands firmly on his chest.

joe doesn’t flinch, but she feels the way his muscles tense under her touch.

good.

his attention changes immediately, those baby blue eyes flicking down to hers, and she can see it--the realization. the amusement. the smirk that threatens to pull at his lips because he knows how she's feeling.

but he hasn’t said anything yet. instead, he lets her do what she does best.

she turns to the woman, finally acknowledging her, her smile faker than that knock-off chanel bag the woman had looped around her arm. "hi," she says smoothly, tilting her head just enough to be borderline condescending. "i don’t think we’ve met,".

the girl blinks, seemingly thrown off by the sudden shift in energy. she stammers out her name, something forgettable, before gesturing toward joe. "i was just telling joe how—,".

she doesn’t even let her finish.

"joeyyy," she purrs, drawing his name out like dripping honey, her fingers trailing gently over the fabric of his shirt. she tilts her head up, eyes locked onto his. "aren’t you so tired of talking?".

and joe just dares to grin. "you trying to get me out of here," he laughs before dipping his head down to her ear, his voice a whisper as his breath heats up her skin, "miss possessive?".

"pretty girl has to learn her lesson, baby," she winked, sliding her hand further up his chest to his face. her baby pink nails running across his stubbly chin as she looks back at the woman who looked like she'd just seen a ghost.

the woman awkwardly clears her throat. "well, um—,".

but she's already tugging joe away, her grip on him firm, definitive. and he lets her, of course, because that’s what he always does.

the second they’re just barely out of reach, he leans down, murmuring, "you know I wasn’t interested, right?".

she doesn’t answer him right away. instead, she keeps walking, leading him through the crowd with a confident posture that makes joe smirk. she only stops when they’re in a quieter corner of the venue, away from prying eyes and nosy ears. she turns to face him, her eyes flashing with something dangerous, something possessive. her finger latches onto the fabric of his shirt, gripping it tight as she looks up at him.

"i know," she finally says, voice sweet but laced with something else. "but that doesn’t mean i have to like it when some desperate woman throws herself at you like i’m not standing right there,".

joe lets out a small laugh, his hands settling on her hips, thumbs brushing over the silky material of her midnight-blue dress.

"you know you’re the only one for me, right?" he asks, voice dropping an octave, his forehead pressing against hers.

she lets out a content sigh, tension slowly bleeding out of her shoulders. "yeah," she breathes. "but that doesn’t mean i’m gonna let anyone think they even have a chance," her nails scrape lightly against his chest, her body pressing just a little bit closer to his.

joe grins. "mm. miss possessive, indeed,".

she narrows her eyes at him, but before she can say anything, his hands slide down to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him.

"i like it, though," he murmurs, his lips brushing against her ear. "i like when you get all clingy. when you remind everyone i’m yours...when you do more than just wear that necklace with my initial on it,".

her breath catches in her throat, fingers tightening on his shirt.

"damn right, you are," she whispers back, shifting her head up to capture his lips in a slow kiss.

it’s not rushed, not frantic. it’s a statement--a declaration that she doesn’t need words for. he is her's, and he loves every second of it.

when she finally pulls back, joe’s eyes are dark, filled with something heated, something that tells her they won’t be staying at this event for much longer.

"so," he says, thumb brushing over her cheek, "you ready to get out of here? or do you wanna go back and stake your claim some more?".

she smirks, reaching up to straighten his tie. "oh, i think she got the message," she hums. "but just in case…,".

she presses another kiss to his lips; hot, sloppy, pulling his bottom lip, and so intoxicating, before pulling away with a smug glint in her eyes.

joe just shakes his head as he laces his fingers through hers, already leading her toward the exit.

"yeah, definitely not staying much longer,".

[urno1luv]

Winter g!p puppy extremely shy in front of others but when the doors close she becomes another person 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

(breeding kink and hanging maybe...)

in public, winter is...

- a good actress

- the type to always hold your hand with both of hers, like she's scared you'll let go. her fingers barely grip, but she never pulls away first

- blushes so easily it's almost funny — even after months together, a quick kiss on the cheek will have her hiding her face in your shoulder

- always speaks quietly, like every word is just for you — "are you hungry?" or "should we leave soon?" — even if you're in the middle of a crowd

- hides behind you in unfamiliar places, clinging to your sleeve without even realizing

- shows her affection in the smallest ways — fixing your necklace, smoothing your hair, brushing her thumb over your knuckles without saying anything

- when people tease her about how soft she is with you, she just goes even redder and mumbles something under her breath but you sigh, because you know what's she's really like🤭

in private winter is...

- the second you're alone, it's like she flips a switch — still quiet, but in this slow, confident way that makes your heart race

- she loves catching you off guard — pinning you against the wall with that little smirk like she wasn't just hiding behind you two hours ago

- she'll pull you into her lap without warning, playing with the edge of your skirt like it's the most casual thing in the world

- she the type to lean in close, brush her lips against your ear, and whisper, "we're alone now, i don't have to fake anything" — knowing damn well she's making your head spin

- not loud about how possessive she is — no jealousy fits, just a hand on your thigh under the table or a lazy kiss on your neck when you're home alone, like she's reminding you exactly who you belong to

- she has this low, breathy voice she only uses when it's just the two of you — the same girl who stutters ordering food will murmur things that leave your legs shaking without breaking eye contact

- bites. not hard, not always — just little teasing nips along your jaw or your shoulder, half to mark you and half to hear the little sound you make when she does it😫

- she doesn't ask — she takes. pushes you up against the nearest surface, lips brushing against your neck, half-smirking when she hears your gasp as her cock slowly enters you😩

- pins your wrists down against the mattress, body flush against yours, whispering things in that soft, dangerous voice "look at you, already so needy for me", her hand cupping your cunt

- if you try to flip the script and take control, she'll let you — for a little while. then she'll smile all soft and sweet, push you down on the bed, and ruin you without breaking a sweat. her thick cock hitting that spot inside of you, her relentless pounding making your eyes roll with pleasure🫨

- she loves loves LOVES seeing her cum dripping out of your pussy, and she's your puppy gf, so when those two things are combined = breeding kink!

- she swears to you, in her haze of pleasure, that she'll get you pregnant, she'll give you pups, and all sorts of things like that

- she bites your neck when she's about to cum, her low, breathy little growls against your skin signifying that she's going to breed you for the 6th time that night

literally EVERYBODY thinks you're the one in charge, but the second you're alone, she's got you wrapped around her little finger, begging for more without even trying🫠

[prythiansprincess]

best friend's brother! tom finally gets you alone

NAVIGATION // home. tag. moodboard. more.

author's note: the demons...they're getting loud again. i'm actually so feral for possessive and obsessive tom. I fear I might make this my whole personality now.

obsession. 

tom riddle was, in every sense of the word, obsessive. the fixation and compulsion he poured into the things he loved had always been a marker of his character. tom was not the type of person to casually partake in something; for the eldest riddle brother, the best things in life were worth being consumed by. 

and he was. 

utterly and irrevocably consumed by you. 

y/n, mattheo’s sweet and innocent best friend. the one whose pretty eyes and lovely smile haunted his every waking moment. the one whose honeyed voice played in his head like a melody and enticed him like a siren’s song. the one whose gentle touch sent his heart racing until he felt as though the damned thing was going to burst out of his bloody chest. 

you had no idea what you did to him, but you would soon enough because tom had a plan. for weeks, he had been plotting and scheming. trying to find the right time to finally get you all to himself. 

fortunately for him, the opportunity arose one fateful evening when mattheo left his phone unattended in the living room. it was so easy, almost too easy, to guess his brother’s password and open up his most recent text thread with you. 

mattheo: come over tonight? 

tom watched as three dots appeared on the screen, indicating that you were currently typing a response. 

y/n: will tom be there?

now that was interesting. perhaps you were asking because you wanted him to be there. wanted him as much as he wanted you. 

mattheo: yes. why do you ask?

y/n: I just don't want to be a bother. I know tom likes to study on tuesdays and me coming over would probably disrupt that.

tom couldn’t help but smile. such a thoughtful, caring girl. he couldn’t wait to ruin you. 

mattheo: tom will be fine. so, are you in or not?  i'll grab your favorite snacks. 

y/n: you had me at snacks.

half an hour later, you were standing in the doorway of the riddle home, dressed in one of those pretty little dresses that tom had imagined ripping off of your body a million times. as the door swung open, those innocent eyes widened at the sight of him. you flushed when tom met your gaze, a light pink hue dusting your cheeks. 

"oh. hi, tom. um, is mattheo here? he asked me to come over." 

tom casually leaned against the frame, giving you a once over that only deepened your flush. "my brother just stepped out, but he should be back soon." 

"o—okay. he's probably out getting snacks." 

tom watched as you lingered in the doorway, anxiously fidgeting with the hem of your dress. he thought it was adorable that you were still nervous around him after all this time. biting back a smile, tom opened the door to his home a little wider. 

"are you coming in?" 

“hm?” you asked absentmindedly. “oh. yeah. yes, i’m coming. not like that. I mean, obviously. shit. ignore me please.” 

tom raised a brow, but said nothing as he barely gave you enough of a gap to squeeze through the door. he smirked to himself as you maneuvered your way inside, perky breasts brushing against his solid chest. tom could smell the sweet scent of your strawberry shampoo as you passed through. he wanted to drown himself in it. you timidly avoided his gaze, choosing instead to follow him into the kitchen in silence.

“would you like something to drink?” 

you nodded. “yes, please, i’ll take a —”

before you could finish your sentence, tom handed you a cold can of vanilla cherry soda. your favorite. you thanked him with a shy smile before following him upstairs. instinctively, you turned in the direction of mattheo’s room, but tom gripped your wrist and kept you in place. 

“you can wait in my room if you’d like. mattheo might be a while. he reeked of weed when he left."

you chuckled. “it does take matty forever to pick out snacks when he’s high.” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other before glancing up at tom through your lashes. “are you sure you don’t mind? I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

“i’m sure,” tom confirmed. “I could use the company.” 

with that, you followed tom into his room. unlike mattheo’s, tom’s room was neat and organized. everything was perfect and pristine, much like the man standing before you. tom busied himself by putting away the books and notes on his desk while you fiddled with your fingers, not quite knowing what to do with yourself. 

“sit on the bed,” tom commanded. “make yourself comfortable.” 

“okay.” you replied in a small, breathy voice. 

carefully, you settled at the edge of his bed and crossed your legs. you drummed your fingers against your thigh, pondering how strange this situation was. in all your years of knowing tom, you had never once set foot in his room. at most, you caught glimpses of it when you passed by on your way to mattheo’s room. 

everything was so foreign and interesting. that was the desk where tom does all his studying. that was the closet where he keeps all of his clothes. that was the night stand where he places his glasses on before he goes to sleep. 

that was the bed that he laid in every night. your mind started to wander through all the things that tom had done in this bed. maybe by himself. maybe with someone else. the intrusive thoughts fired off one by one, leaving you flustered. does he soak the sheets when he gets himself off? does he tie his partners to the bed post when he eats them out? does he push their faces into the pillows as he rails them from behind? 

you were so engrossed in your dirty and filthy fantasies that you nearly jumped out of your skin when tom rested a hand on your thigh. 

“hm,” tom hummed. “you’re so jumpy, love.” 

you held your breath as he leaned closer, his face mere inches away from yours. the tension between you ebbed before he carefully took the soda can in your hand and placed it neatly on his nightstand. tom smirked when he noticed the hitch in your breath at his close proximity.

“do I make you nervous, doll?” 

“yes,” you answered truthfully. there was no point in lying. it was written all over your face. “you’re just so…intimidating.” 

“am I?” tom drawled as he slid in beside you, scooting in closer until his thigh was pressed against yours. even through his neatly pressed trousers, you could still feel the heat of his skin on yours. “maybe we just need to get to know each other better.” 

you bit your lip. “i’d like that, tom.” 

“good,” tom drawled. “let’s start with why you think you’d be a bother to me. mattheo told me you were hesitant to come over earlier.” 

you flushed as you stared at your shoes, the curtain of your hair shielding you from tom’s intense gaze. “I know you like your peace and quiet, which mattheo and I probably constantly interrupt. i’m sorry if we’re ever being annoying.” 

“you don’t have to worry about that. you could never bother me,” tom stated in a silky, flirty voice. “the only thing I find annoying is that you’re always with my brother. I just can’t seem to get you alone, can I?” 

you shivered as tom’s gaze flickered down to your lips. “well, we’re alone now.” 

“indeed we are.” you held your breath as tom leaned in closer, the bed dipping under his weight. “you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this. just you and me, without my brother to interrupt. I think about it all the time.” 

tom watched your pupils dilate, reacting to his admission. “what do you think about?” 

“I think about all the things I’d do to you. I think about the way you’d feel, the way you’d sound. if you’d scream or moan or whimper for me.” you shuddered at the sinful confession, rubbing your thighs together as heat rushed to your core. tom’s green gaze felt like a brand against your skin as a predatory look flashed through his handsome face. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.” 

before you could react, tom’s mouth was on yours. the kiss was neither soft nor gentle, but instead hungry and possessive. the magnitude of his desire took you by surprise. you had always thought that tom viewed you as nothing more than mattheo’s pesky friend, the one that came over unannounced and wreaked havoc in his life, but apparently you couldn’t have been more wrong. 

tom kissed you like a man starved. he poured all of himself into the action, tangling his fingers through your hair, yanking your head backwards so he could kiss you deeper. you could barely keep up with the way he was devouring you, his tongue dominating yours while you moaned softly into his mouth. 

a gasp escaped your lips as tom picked you up and placed you on his lap. you were dizzy with desire as you straddled him, whimpering when tom bucked his hips against yours which caused his erection to rub against your soaked core. never in a million years would you have imagined tom to be this dirty and filthy as he grabbed and groped and gorged himself on you. 

your breathy moans filled the room as tom slid his right hand underneath your dress and squeezed your thigh before palming you through your panties. you melted into his touch, moaning his name softly while he growled in response. as he slid the lace aside, tom kissed your neck and teased your slit with his fingers. 

“you’re soaked, doll.” tom said with a dark chuckle. “do I make you wet, hm?” 

“yes,” you breathed, eyes rolling back as tom spread your slick ever so slowly. 

he seemed to take this as encouragement, taking his time teasing you, rubbing your clit and spreading your folds until you were reduced to nothing but a whimpering mess. 

“tom, please…”

“so needy,” tom murmured. “what is it that you want, love?” 

“I want…” you bit your lip as tom stroked your pussy. “I want your fingers. I want them inside of me. please, tom.” 

“aw, doll, you sound so pretty when you beg,” tom cooed. “don’t worry, I couldn't resist you even if I tried.” 

without warning, tom plunged his fingers into your pussy. you groaned at the stretch, face heating from how vulgar the scene unfolding before you truly was. tom watched with rapt attention as you squirmed and panted, drinking in every little moan and whimper like a fine wine. his fingers felt like magic as they curled and scissored and flicked inside your walls. the other hand that wasn’t playing with your pussy rested on your hip, gripping tightly as you grinded against tom. 

“that’s it, doll. ride my fingers just like that.” 

tom was mesmerized at the sight of you using him to get yourself off. mattheo’s sweet and innocent best friend was no longer sweet and innocent as tom fingered and ruined you like the perfect little slut that you were. his perfect little slut.

“are you going to be a good girl and cum for me?” 

tears streamed down your cheeks as you rode tom’s fingers like your life depended on it. your mascara and lipstick were both smeared, but you didn’t care as you chased after your orgasm. you gave tom a weak nod, half out of your mind with pleasure. 

tom gripped your chin and forced you to look at him. “answer me, doll.” 

“y — yes. i’m going to…oh god, tom!” you writhed as tom rubbed your clit with the heel of his palm, pushing you over the edge. 

the glimmer in your eyes right before you came unleashed something within tom. the flushed cheeks and fluttering lashes; the parted lips and strained scream, it was enough to drive him insane. he wanted to see you make that face over and over again. 

“you look so pretty when you cum, doll.” tom murmured as he bit down on your neck, staking his claim on your skin. “you’re fucking exquisite.” 

amusement danced in his gaze as you shied away from the attention, cheeks flushed from the praise. tom locked eyes with you before sticking his fingers in his mouth and licking them clean in the most obscene and erotic way you had ever witnessed. 

“don’t get all shy now, love. it’s your cum i’m licking off my fingers and i’ll be damned if you ever feel nervous around me again.” 

you chuckled in disbelief. the tom riddle in your head was supposed to be prim and proper, but the real tom was salacious and vulgar; a version of him that was better than what you could have ever imagined. still, despite the heated exchange, tom was surprisingly tender as he helped clean you up. you blushed furiously as he pulled your dress down and kissed your cheek. 

the timing couldn’t have been more perfect because soon after you were situated, the two of you heard footsteps in the hall. you barely had time to compose yourself before mattheo came barging into the room. 

“tom, have you seen my phone?” mattheo paused in surprise when he found you staring back at him. “oh, hi y/n. what are you doing here?” 

“you asked me to come over and hang out, remember?” 

“did I?” mattheo wondered aloud. “I was pretty baked earlier. guess I must have texted you then. well, i’m free now if you want to watch a movie.” 

tom smirked as you shot a bewildered glance at him. “oh, yeah sure.” 

“by the way, what are you doing in tom’s room? is he boring you to death about his coin collection again?” 

you blushed furiously. “no, uh, we were just…tom and I were…” 

“we were discussing the finer points of human anatomy,” tom lied smoothly. his smirk was still perfectly in place as he glanced over at you. “it was a rather…stimulating conversation. was it not, doll?” 

the tips of your ears were bright red as you nodded in place of a response, because you couldn’t trust yourself to speak at the moment.

mattheo rolled his eyes. “well, if you’re done being a weirdo, y/n and I will be in the basement.” 

you fiddled with the hem of your dress, not quite able to meet tom’s eyes. “um, well, I guess I’ll see you later?” 

tom winked behind his brother’s back. “you know where to find me, doll.” 

[on-wine-dark-seas]

The Invitation

Dedicated to the little Black girl who wanted to be all things when the world told her she was nothing. You are everything. 🍯

🪧 Summary: Heian Era. One full moon, Sukuna meets a dancing storyteller at the Hida Harvest Festival. But after a tragically violent evening robs her of everything, she winds up in a strange alliance with the King of Curses as his guest. 📚 Series: Sonder ⛩️ AO3: The Invitation 🔞 Rating: Explicit ⚠️️ Warning[s]: Rape/Non-Con [not from Sukuna don't worry], blood, gore, description of wounds and dead bodies, cannibalism, recreational drug use [ganja, psilocybin, opium], slow-ish burn, hurt/comfort, PTSD, revenge, catharsis, eventual romance, eventual smut, Ryōmen Sukuna is his own warning. 💋 Pairing[s]: Sukuna x The Writer [⛩️🍯] 🎧 Playlist: [ the invitation ] ⛩️ AO3 𑁍 Parallax OCs 𑁍 Sonder OCs ⛩️

🖋️Author's Note: Well, we've arrived at the moment of truth[s]. Enjoy. This entire chapter is just 16.5k words of self-indulgent smut courtesy of Sukuna's absolutely batshit stamina, my untutored sexual ardor [giving way to a nigh insatiable sexual appetite], and a lot of fucking feelings we've been tap dancing around the whole story.

Y'all are about to learn some shit about me. Mainly, how I like to get down when my pleasure is wholly my own. See you on the other side. —Muse

⚠️️Warning[s] for this chapter⚠️️ EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. References to sexual trauma [remember, this shapes how Sukuna and I get down], Sukuna's two glorious cocks finally make their debut, Sukuna uses multiple mouths, ALL FOUR HANDS ON DECK [and DICKS], masturbation, spit-as-lube, cum as lube, vaginal AND anal fingering, cunnilingus, squirting, analingus, blowjobs, cock and ball worship, double penetration, double creampie, rough sex, mirror sex [REAL THIS TIME], choking, possessive biting [it's Sukuna], talking-while-fucking, trauma-informed body exploration and worship, praise kink, the hot pleasures of jealousy real and imagined [again, it's Sukuna], rounds on rounds oh my god. Recreational cannabis use. LOTS OF AFTERCARE. COMFORT. FLUFF.

🍯 IX. 金契 Bonded by Gold

Everyone is mesmerized by the fireworks.

     Sukuna does not care, save that they illuminate Asiri’s face in bursts of radiance, the dying sparks fading to nothingness in her dark eyes. She’s looking at him as if the world around them means nothing and he is everything. He is used to reverence, but that is reverence born from the seed of fear.

     This is something else. Something so much more fragile, so much rarer. He won’t name it; he can’t name it, for fear that if he does, the world will take this from him too. So he basks in it, allows himself to enjoy this oasis of humanity before his curse finds its fangs at her throat and destroys her.

     Sukuna takes a deep breath.

     “Do you know what you’re asking?” He growls out. His lower eyes flick to her lips, full and stained the deep, bluish red of spilled blood in the cold.

     “No,” she breathes as the fireworks burst above them, the crowd’s awed murmuring rising to an excited cheer. “But I know I want this. I know I want you.”

     Why, he wants to ask her. Why him? He is the last thing she should want. But here she is, telling him and fucking meaning it. His lower eyes drag their gaze down from her lips to her throat, sees the fluttering of her pulse beneath that tender skin. He wants to sink his teeth into her, taste the coppery sweetness of her misplaced devotion. He can break her; he knows he can, and part of him wants to for the sheer pleasure of it all. But he can do something else too: he can make her his. Inextricably. He can ruin her tonight, and every day after. Undo all the damage Takeshi has done and imprint himself upon her again and again until her thoughts are as consumed by him as his have been by her for months. Her and that alluring storm inside of her that he wants to hold in all four of his hands so very badly.

     He reaches for her, and she does not pull away, does not recoil in disgust, and does not look upon him with abject fear. All the things he has come to expect are absent in her lambent gaze. When his knuckles brush the soft contour of her cheek, her eyelids flutter, the corners of her mouth lift, and he watches as she leans into his touch slightly, unthinking.

     Sukuna inhales, watches her tense before he leans down, bringing his face close to hers. His lips trace her ear in a teasing caress with feathery weight.

     “I am going to take you,” he says to her, and delights in her quiet intake of breath, and the resulting shiver that makes the earrings dangling from her lobes sway prettily. “Again, and again. And then I’m going to bind you to me. Is this acceptable?”

     It is as close to a marriage proposal as Sukuna himself understands it, and as close as he dares. He half-expects her to decline, to have some good sense and run screaming in the other direction before willingly offering her throat to the tiger she mistakenly thinks is tame. But she is not a wilting flower with bruised petals any longer, nor is she prey.

     She’s something more. Something divine. Something he wants with a yearning that kindles to the furnace in his soul.

     “Yes,” comes her whisper, so delicate the roar of the crowd nearly steals the thrill from him, and Sukuna feels something thrumming in his blood that he can almost call delight. It’s heady and wicked, and he thinks of all the ways he is going to bind her, until he tames the storm inside her for himself. Until she is his and no other’s.

     “Good,” he murmurs, malevolent pleasure making his voice a deep, ominous purr. “Very good.”

     He lingers there for a moment, and then she turns her head. He sees the shadowy luster of her eyes beneath her lashes, and then he feels her lips brush against his cheek. Soft, tentative, exploratory and curious. He moves his head, feels her gasp as his lips meet hers. A soft kiss, he decides. Let her enjoy this last bit of sweetness before he shows her what she has so boldly asked him to give her.

     “Come,” he murmurs against her mouth. “Let’s go home.”

     She doesn’t correct him, she simply nods, wordless and heavy-lidded as he draws her away from the crowd, away from the bursts of fireworks, away from the world neither one of them have ever had a chance of belonging in. The crowd yields open to allow the King of Curses to pass. Rippling murmurs and whispers follow when it’s seen that his hand grasps hers. Sukuna does not care. He’s sure the Zenin brat has run home to report to his father that the King of Curses has taken a foreign sorceress as his wife. Never mind that it’s a lie, the bait will do as it is meant to do and lend legitimacy to her challenge for a duel.

     And then, when the Zenin brat is dead, Sukuna will see just where his lost flower intends to go. He does not dwell on that eventuality too long, focusing instead on the searing present. Her hand is so small in his, delicate bones malleable in his grip, but he holds her with the gentleness of a breeze cupping a stray feather. He retrieves Akechi, mounting and pulling her up in a fluid moment that sees her settled once more in front of him, sharing the saddle. He secures an arm around her waist, but unlike before, his hand splays across her ribcage, the warmth of his palms seeping through the silk. He can feel her heart fluttering in her chest, beating against it like a trapped hummingbird. He can feel the expansion of her inhales and exhales, the change in her breath as they lurch forward, following the lantern-lined path toward the forest.

     They pass beneath the first torii gate, the one that is more recent. Erected to mark the border of his territory. The hills may belong to the people, but the thick, velvety darkness of the forest belongs to the God of Hida, naught else.

     Asiri shifts in the saddle, leather creaking in the quiet as they slip through the tree line, the festival forgotten, leaving only the two of them and the moonlight to guide them back to the shrine. Sukuna knows this path by rote, and easily guides Akechi over treacherous ground, picking the familiar path.

     They pass the clearing, though it is completely different. The entire place is blackened as if burnt, trees splintered to kindling, and cratered depression in the center where the remnant of a burned-out wagon still stands.

     “I did this,” Asiri whispers, her voice tinged with fearful awe. Sukuna resists the urge to draw her closer, as if to keep her safe from the memory of her own brutality, but he knows that’s the last thing she needs in this moment.

     “Yes,” he says, his voice pitched low. “And I will teach you to do it until you can stay conscious. And even do it multiple times in a day if you wish.”

     Asiri lets out a wry laugh, and he feels her heart flutter against his possessive palm.

     “When would I ever be in a situation where I’d need to do that kind of damage multiple times a day?” She asks him. Sukuna doesn’t answer. He wants to tell her that if she intends to continue to practice jujutsu, there will be plenty of situations, but he knows she still believes that Takeshi Zenin is the only life she will take with her strength. She doesn’t know that she has initiated herself into a world that will demand she wash her hands in blood or be slain herself.

     He will teach her this lesson, or her duel with Takeshi will.

     Tonight, however, he has his mind on more pleasurable pursuits.

     The rest of the ride slips by quickly, and still Asiri’s heart hammers against his hand. When they pass the ghostly glow of the hitodama of the massive torii marking the entrance to the shrine grounds, he feels her pulse race, hears her try to stifle a soft sound that sounds almost like anticipation. He shares a smirk with the preternatural dark, Akechi’s hooves marking the return of the shrine’s lord and master, clipping on the smooth stones of the courtyard.

     The shrine doors open, and Oboro, Okoi, and Uraume come out to meet him. Ren is already waiting, and he tosses the boy the reins without thinking. Oboro, Okoi, and Uraume bows respectfully as he dismounts, and helps Asiri down to stand. He does not greet them except to give a curt order that he and Lady Asiri are not to be disturbed for the remainder of the evening.

     Asiri catches a glimpse of Oboro’s surprised and questioning glance over her shoulder as Sukuna leads her inside. The shrine doors shut behind them, and they pass through the brazier-lit halls toward his bedchamber, stopping at the closed shoji door leading to his inner sanctum. Asiri stares at it, trying to calm her breathing and steady her mind and pulse.

     “Before we cross this threshold, Asiri,” Sukuna’s voice cuts through her daze and she looks up at him. “I would have your consent that this is what you truly want. Nothing will change if you choose to refuse: you are the one who requested this, after all. And if it is what you truly want, I would have you tell me now.”

     Asiri swallows hard.

     “It is, my lord,” she whispers. One of Sukuna’s hands lifts, caresses her cheek.

     “Then so be it. Understand this: out here, you are wholly your own, free to avail yourself to the shrine as you wish and explore as you wish. But when we cross this threshold, within the sanctity of my bedchamber, you belong to me alone. Is this acceptable?”

     Asiri stares up at him, willing herself to bear the weight of his gaze, how his face looks so stern, so much like a god and yet she has seen the humanity that softens the harsh lines no matter how he hides it.

     “Yes,” she says softly. “But only on the condition that you belong to me too, my lord.”

     There it is: that slow, predatory grin, the hooded look in his eyes, hiding a secret she longs to be the keeper of since she’s trusting him with the handling of her broken body. His eyes gleam like droplets of blood in the firelight, cupping her face in his hand, running an unhurried thumb over her cheek.

     “Thou, and no other,” he affirms. “Is this acceptable?”

     “Yes,” she whispers. “Lord Sukuna?”

     His name brings him up short and he looks at her with deadly expectancy.

     “Is this something you truly want too?” She asks him. Sukuna smiles in that easy, arrogant way and slides open the door.

     “Let me show you,” he says, and guides her inside, the door shutting behind them.

     The bedchamber is lit by a single hanging lantern, which throws a beautiful lattice shadow over the center of the room and warmed by a large brazier. Outside, the trees rustle and whisper with the wind and thunder rumbles in the distance. Sukuna glances down at Asiri, brushes his fingertips along the back of her neck.

     “Remember to breathe,” he tells her and there’s a teasing edge bleeding into his voice, a little derisive, but those crimson eyes bleed warmth as she looks up at him. Asiri nods and focuses her beathing. Thunder rumbles again. Sukuna frowns. Not her, then?

     “I am breathing, Sukuna,” she tells him, and he smirks. So his lost flower has some control at last. Good.

     He pulls her close, delighting her gasp as he lifts her feet from the floor, crushing her against him.

     Their lips meet, and Asiri feels something steal the very breath from her lungs as his kiss turns hungry. It is nothing like the petal-soft gentleness he accorded her earlier in the evening, amidst fireworks and a crowd.

     This is ravenous, and Asiri, heaven help her, she wants him to devour her. She wants to be the tender prey between his sharp teeth, wants him to bite into her and taste her until there’s no trace of her left.

     She kisses him back. She has been kissed before, and has kissed, but never anything like this. Sukuna does not yield to her, holding her against him as she makes a moaning sound when his tongue traces her lower lip, tugging it gently between his teeth.

     She’s panting, now. Dizzy with the heat swimming the rich currents of her blood, dripping down between her thighs. She squirms in his arms, rubbing her thighs together with an almost pained whine. Aching.

     Sukuna chuckles darkly, and then sets her down.

     Slowly, he guides her to the mirror, sees her gaze flinch away from her reflection. The last time she was here, only the light of the Divine Flame had illuminated them. Now, the soft light of the lantern shows them in full.

     “Look,” Sukuna tells her, and she does. She is his, after all.

     In the mirror, she stands clad in the soft white and blue of his kimono, her lips love-swollen from kissing, a few braids escaping her hairpin. Looming behind her is Sukuna, still clad in the deepest black. One of his hand spans over her belly, crawling upward as he begins to loosen and untie her obi with another. Deft and swift—these are his garments, after all—the obi slips free as his front hand grasps her kimono to pull it open. The lush weight of her breasts strains against the silk, then bounces free. Asiri watches his reflection, sees the flare of excitement in his eyes at the sight. Her nipples pebble as the cool air pricks against them. Sukuna watches their reflection, feels her ribcage expand as she inhales, feels her shiver as she exhales.

     The kimono whispers over her skin as it slides from her shoulders, pooling around her bare feet. Sukuna sucks in a breath at the sight of her as she steps from the fabric and turns away from the mirror to face him. He looks down but keeps his eyes on her reflection. He can take her all in at once.

     And take her in he does.

     Asiri tilts her head, smiling slightly.

     “I want to see you too,” she tells him. For a moment, Sukuna simply stares at her as if she’s the first naked woman he’s seen. She’s clad in naught but her dusky skin, that collar of shells and coins, waist beads, and her anklets. He finds it erotic, reaching to run a hand over her skin, finding it feverish and sensitive. He traces her collar bones, the curve of her shoulders, the band of scar tissue over her bicep that matches the band of black ink on his own.

     He cups her breast, feels her heart leap, sees that old fear surface in her eyes. He stops.

     “Šetû,” his voice isn’t sharp, but there’s an edge of command in it. “Stay with me.”

     For a moment, she is trapped, but then she breathes again, and meets his gaze.

     “There is no shame here,” he reminds her. “Only simple desire. Inhale, then let it go.”

     She shuts her eyes briefly and nods, allowing him to continue as she regains ahold of herself. Sukuna strokes her skin tenderly like one would a nervous animal brought into the home. She shivers, calms, and meets his gaze. The fear is gone, quieted by the weight of the decision they’ve made together. Her skin is so soft. Sukuna passes his thumbs over her nipples.

     She cries out in surprise, back arching into his touch automatically.

     Sukuna smirks. His hands grasp her waist, giving it a generous squeeze before guiding her to the bed, down until she obediently lays back. Here, on his bed, Sukuna takes her in once more.

     Asiri reaches up and grasps the hairpin, taking it out. Her braids tumble over the pillows and over her shoulders. Gold, bistre, burnished umber, contrasted against the white linen bedding. His lower eyes study every curve and slalom, every bend, fold, and stretch mark. He commits her to memory because they will never be lovelier than they are in this moment. He notes more tattoos. A symbol on her right arm: a hand with an open eye in its palm. Asiri shifts on the sheets, and he sees another tattoo. A peacock limned along the length of her right thigh, all the way up to the hip. So, not a criminal, then.

     Sukuna begins to undo his own sash, and Asiri watches him, her breathing even, but her pulse is telling a wilder story. He never breaks her gaze as he slides his kimono off, revealing his bared torso first, followed by everything else. He knows she hasn’t seen all of him, and he expects her reaction to be as it has been with others before her.

     Asiri’s eyes widen as she takes in Sukuna—all of him—for the first time since she caught a fleeting glimpse in the hot spring.

     She starts with his face. His gaze, as always, is inscrutable. She lingers on his lips, watching them part in a breath. She notes the dusting of color in his cheeks, his even breaths. She studies the bold limning of ink on his form, following the lines until her gaze comes to the maw on his belly. She tilts her head, but then her gaze slips lower and—

     “Oh!”

     The cry shocks her, and makes his jaw tense. Asiri’s eyes are wider now as she sees both of Sukuna’s cocks, fully erect to the point of straining. She studies them with scarce-concealed awe. They too bear black markings, sharp and bold, following the curves. She sits up, crawling to the edge of the futon. Her gaze flicks up at him and there is a strained intensity in his eyes, his jaw tight.

     “May I…?” She whispers. Sukuna gives her a nod. Asiri reached for him, but it’s not his cocks she grabs, which surprises him. Of the few that have shared his bed, that’s always what they want to touch first. Instead, Asiri stands on the futon, and reaches for his face.

     She cups his face with her palms, stroking the bone-like plating. Sukuna’s brow pinches slightly and a look of concern crosses her features, a question forming. She begins to take her hands away, but he quickly grabs her wrists, making her gasp. A wordless look, and she continues her exploration.

     “Sukuna, lay down for me,” she says. “I want to do this properly.”

     Sukuna smirks at her, even with his face cupped between her hands and him grasping her wrists.

     “Is that a command I hear?” He asks, menacing in his expression, but there’s a teasing edge to it all that makes her give him an arch look.

     “You are very tall,” she huffs. “Lay down.”

     Sukuna chuckles and Asiri yelps as he takes her into his arms and lays back on the futon, settling her on top of him. Her thighs spread over his torso automatically, and she’s dizzy from the sudden contact as she realizes how close they are.

     How naked they both are.

     Heat burns across her face before she swallows hard.

     Sukuna props his top arms behind his head, his lower hands settling on her hips.

     “Go on, mayoi-hana,” he purrs. Asiri purses her lips at his smirk but reaches for his face again and resumes her exploration of his body, tracing the markings on his face with her fingertips, before settling on his lips. Without breaking her gaze, Sukuna presses a kiss to the pads of her fingers as if in private worship. She bites her lip, tracing her fingertips along his throat, settling on the pulse. It’s as steady as a heartbeat. He’s not the least bit anxious. It makes her even more nervous. His lower hands are still on her hips, warm palms seeping that unusual heat into her.

     She traces the markings over his shoulders, biting her lip on a little grin. Sukuna smirks. He knows the source of her private excitement. So he has been on her mind all this time, then. Good. This will make this moment all the more savory on his tongue. She rounds her touch over the strong muscles of his top shoulders, and biceps. Frowning, she makes a gesture.

     “Hands?” She asks. Sukuna grins. One of his lower hands leave her hips and he presents it to her. She shoots him a look and he makes a shrugging motion. He has plenty of hands to spare.

     She traces his palm, his fingers, the thick band of ink around his wrist. She’s about to continue when that hand suddenly seizes her wrist, making her gasp. He smirks again. She tugs once and Sukuna relents before her hands settle on his chest, gliding over every muscle and curve. When she goes lower, she shifts backward. The maw on his belly is closed and Sukuna looks at her with an almost innocent expression. Her brows knit.

     “Open for me?”

     Sukuna doesn’t know why but the way she says those words makes both his cocks twitch. The maw parts its lips and she traces it with her fingertips. It smiles at her, all fangs and tattooed tongue, which slithers out to lick her hand. She yelps and Sukuna lets out a pleased chuckle. In her annoyance, Asiri shifts again, and sits directly on top of it. Sukuna’s eyes flare brightly, his grin turning sinister.

     “What do you hope to accomplish, little flower?” He asks, and watches as Asiri shivers when the tongue slithers out of his belly to trace a wet path along her inner thigh. His lower hands clamp down on her hips, holding her in place.

     “Sukuna…” She whispers, and Sukuna holds her gaze, his expression suddenly deadly.

     “Mine,” he murmurs, and the tongue slips above, the tip taking a slow, agonizing path through her folds.

     A low, desperate moan slips from her and spirals into the air as she braces herself on his chest, digging her little nails into his skin. Sukuna does not move from that easy recline, watching as her body folds over, bringing her closer to him. His hands slide reverently over the curves of her rear, cupping and then grasping and then spreading her wide, exposing her to the tender onslaught of his massive tongue.

     Asiri trembles, and a whimper ekes out of her as her hands scrabble for purchase, torn between wanting to escape the mounting pleasure of his tongue with each idle pass over her clit, and wanting to push back against it. She has never done anything like this before, has never had anything like this done to her, and she sits up slightly, shooting Sukuna a pitiful, plaintive look, lip quivering.

     Sukuna meets her gaze with the impassive amusement of a god in his domain.

     “Something the matter, mayoi-hana?” He coos to her. “Regretting your decision to give yourself to a monster?”

     Asiri shakes her head, mouth dropping open in a soundless cry as Sukuna’s tongue circles her clit. Maddening, desperate, and utterly irresistible. She keens, rocking her body in his arms, giving herself unto the sensations unfurling in her body like a supplicant. Sukuna chuckles as she pushes against his grasping hands, seeking more.

     “Oh fuck…” Her voice drags out of her roughly, trails toward the ceiling, her nails digging into his skin again. One of Sukuna’s upper hands comes from behind his head, pushing a stray braid from her face. He studies her, his tongue still slipping through her folds, circling her clit, holding her steady as she trembles.

     He watches as her face melts into an expression of agonized ecstasy.

     “Oh fuck,” she whines, as she listens to the tongue slipping back and forth, back and forth, so wet and slippery and sticky. “Right there, oh…kar a tsaya…pleasepleaseplease…” The words shiver out of her in a husky, throaty moan. Sukuna strokes her back tenderly, holding her gaze, lambent with tears of insurmountable pleasure.

     “And there you are,” Sukuna groans, pressing the flat of his tongue against the whole, swollen, slippery mess of her cunt as she spills and spills against his tongue, shivering as he squeezes her rear. He strokes the tongue back and forth, adding pressure. She keens weakly, burying her face in the firm muscle of his chest.

     “You’re fucking soaking, little flower,” he coos, relishing her taste on his tongue. He wants to drink her down, and he does. He chuckles when she rocks her hips, whimpering at the friction.

     For a moment she simply lays still on his chest, listening.

     Badump.

     Badump.

So steady, and strong, and loud. His breathing is like a cavernous wind to her, his chest expanding. He has expended no effort and already her skin shimmers with a thin sheen of sweat. The room looks hazy in her vision, and her lids are heavy, a small smile on her face.

     Is this what it was supposed to be like?

     “Hey,” Sukuna growls. “Don’t tell me you’re done already?” He laughs, and Asiri grins at the vibration of it under her.

     “No,” comes her quiet, slurred response. “But this is nice, Sukuna. Thank you.”

     “We aren’t done,” he growls. Asiri laughs, sitting up, biting her lip when Sukuna slides his tongue back into the maw of his belly, grinding against her swollen sex every step of the way. He grins when she swats his chest.

     “I know,” she breathes. “Give me a moment…”

     Sukuna heaves a sigh, rolling his eyes.

     Asiri feels wonderful. There’s something about the world that feels new, and she feels charged with energy. Thunder rumbles outside, and lightning flashes through the shoji leading to the engawa. Sukuna takes her in as she looks down at him, smoothing his lower hands over her thighs, then back up. Her expression softens, dark eyes soft and blurred, those kiss-swollen lips parted, giving her a look of soft reverent wonder. His hands smooth up her waist, delicate and knowing. He has butchered humans aplenty and is intimately familiar with their form. But that had always been meat for consumption, for nourishment.

     Šetû Asiri is for worship.

     His hands continue their journey, cupping her breasts. She doesn’t freeze; the old fear does not rear its head in her beautiful eyes. She’s here with him. Her hands come up, settling on his forearms, smoothing up to touch his wrists. She lets him continue, biting her lip on a small sound as he drags his palms over her nipples.

     “The first night I saw you,” Sukuna says, “I thought you were a dream spirit. A trick of the fire.”

     Asiri laughs as one of his hands settles on her throat, large enough to circle it and hold her fast by that delicate column alone.

     His other hand smoothes over her shoulder, behind her head to dig his fingers into her hair.

     “It was your smile,” Sukuna says. “There was something sharp about it, like a blade unsheathed. And then it was your eyes. You know more than you let on, and all your secrets are kept there.”

     His lower hands lift her hips, and she obliges. She feels the blunt tip of his cock nudging her lips apart. Her eyes widen briefly. So big, but she’s dripping all over him already. She understands now what his aim had been with his tongue.

     “And now?” She whispers, her voice tremulous. Sukuna tenderly strokes her hip and begins to slowly ease her onto him.

     “Now it’s the rest of you,” he murmurs.

     Asiri’s head tips back as she feels him begin to stretch her. She remembers that night, feels herself clench. Sukuna freezes.

     “Šetû.”

     She comes back to herself as she feels his hands roving her tenderly, grounding her.

     “Eyes on me,” he tells her, and she nods. “Breathe for me, mayoi-hana, just like I taught you.”

     She breathes, and he relishes the feel of her ribcage expanding in his grip, and as she exhales, she relaxes, and he pushes her down.

     The sound that comes from her likely wakes the entire shrine.

     “There you go,” Sukuna coos and she’s sobbing, holding onto his forearms to anchor herself. “You’re doing so well. Let me in…”

     He groans deeply when she is fully seated on him, and she lets out a high-pitched wail. She pants, leans her head back and lets out a sound.

     “Sukuna…” She calls out, dragging his name through her throat like a desperate beseeching prayer to her gods, and without thinking—

     Crack!

     She yelps, and Sukuna hisses when the slick, wet velvet of her cunt grips him so thoroughly he thinks he may not get his cock back. His hand immediately palms her ass, warm from his strike.

     Asiri rubs her backside.

     “Mscheww!” She hisses through her teeth, annoyed, and swats his chest. “What was that, eh?!”

     Sukuna laughs.

     “I wasn’t sure if…” He laughs at her expression. “Ah, the way you moaned my name was like music…”

     Asiri stares at him, eyes narrowed.

     Sukuna tries to quiet his laughter. “It won’t happen again, mayoi-hana, I promise.”

     Asiri swats his arm lightly.

     “We can consider it retaliation for your little flower stunt,” he says. Asiri’s mouth opens and before she can retort he lifts her hips. She moans, making him grin harder, gripping his forearms so tight her knuckles drain of color.

     Up. Down. Slow, so achingly slow.

     His name spills from her mouth, dripping with a pleasure that frightens and exhilarates her all in the same scintillating turn. Up and then down until she realizes why this feels so familiar. She forces herself into a semblance of clarity, looking down at him. He grins at her, sees recognition flit across her features like a glint of light. His lower eyes slide down her body, watching as her waist begins to undulate of its own accord, and soon she is lifting herself up and down. He relaxes his hold on her, watches her find the rhythm and the pleasure it brings.

     Asiri has never felt anything like it. Sukuna is big…so big she doesn’t understand how he’s able to fit even as slick as she is, but her body accommodates him as the pleasure begins to build.

     Faster.

     Sweat beads on her skin, and Sukuna’s eyes chase the path before one of his palms splits into a mouth, tattooed tongue chasing the droplets between her bouncing breasts before he captures one, sealing his mouth over her nipple to lash at it with his tongue.

     “Gnh…!” The sound is choked out of her as the additional sensation pricks at her nerves like electricity along her skin. She moves faster; up and down, a bouncing rhythm she’s familiar with, but not with a man inside of her.

     Not with the God of Hida inside of her.

     His name becomes a mantra she flings heavenward, and Sukuna relishes the sight of his cock vanishing inside of her only to come out gleaming and slick, the black markings stark against the engorged flesh.

     “Don’t give up on me, now, mayoi-hana!” He growls at her, moves to strike her again, but stops himself, and instead grips both curves of her ass, digging his fingers into the ample flesh hard enough that it will bruise. Spurs.

     “Gambare,” he purrs. Asiri doesn’t stop, but now she screams his name, begging, pleading. A hand slips between them, a tongue lashing at her clit with every movement. It’s enough. Her cunt seizes around him in a series of quivering flutters, and there’s a wash of slick that soaks the dark, blush-colored hair around his cock. Sukuna holds her steady as she shivers, mewling, her vision unfocused.

     Sukuna keeps her on his cock, burying himself deep as she spends her energy trying to cram her soul back into her body. He sits upright, and she moans as his hips shift, his cock dragging against her sensitive walls. Her legs tremble as she tries to wrap them around him. His hands roam her sweat slick body tenderly, as if he is indulging himself. He clucks his tongue as her head lolls, and she struggles to meet his gaze.

     “Don’t tell me you’re finished already?” He coos in that nettling tease that always goads her pride, and he grins as her gaze sharpens and she glares at him. He pulls her closer.

     “No,” she whispers, trembling hands coming up to cup his face. Sukuna allows her to touch him, and she’s careful of his lower eyes. Again, that soft look in her eyes, the tender parting of her lips. The reverent wonder as she threads her fingers through his hair as if he is something precious.

     As if he matters to her.

     It blooms in his blood like magma, the answering twinge in his chest when she drags her touch to his ears. She rubs the lobes, and he tries to keep his eyes from fluttering. Her hands travel down his throat, slick with sweat. She lingers there, feeling his pulse.

     “Masoyí…” She whispers and Sukuna’s brow furrows in confusion. It is not a word he knows.

     She draws his head down, pushing up slightly to kiss him. He obliges her, tasting the salt of sweat on her lips, tugging the tender flesh between his teeth. Alive, she is as tender and delicious as he imagined. Had he decided to eat her in the beginning, he has no doubt she would have been delicious.

     But now, he does not want to devour her flesh and bone. He wants to possess them.

     “I want more,” she says to him as he presses his forehead to hers, their noses rubbing against one another’s.

     “Think you can take it, mayoi-hana?” He asks her. She smiles, giggling when he swipes his tongue over her lower lip.

     “Gambare.” She says to him. Her accent is different, but he chuckles nonetheless hearing his own words thrown back at him in this instance. With a lissome speed he lifts her off of him, mindful of her gasp. She makes a small sound of protest at the loss, but he lays her on her back, spreading her legs wide, exposing her slick and swollen cunt to his full sight.

     He licks his lips as she adjusts, sitting up on the pillows to watch him.

     His lower hands grasp both his cocks, and he begins to stroke himself. Asiri’s hand reaches down, her eyes watching in carnal fascination as his hands pump both his cocks. She tentatively spreads her soaking folds with two fingers, revealing her clenching hole and noting with delight that he grips himself harder, pumps faster.

     “Come back?” She asks. Sukuna freezes in place, all four eyes focusing on her, then flicking down to her cunt, spread open so prettily for him, dripping and melting all over the sheets, her inner thighs shining with it.

     He wants nothing more than to folds her legs back and slide both his cocks into her, but his tongue craves another taste of her, and she watches as he shifts and adjusts, bringing his face level with her cunt. His mouth hovers above her as he watches her. His lower eyes keep watch on the sheen of slick all over her lips and fingers. His jaw works, and then he spits on her cunt. She gasps.

     He leans in, meets her pussy in an open-mouthed kiss. She moves her hand, and his mouth keeps her spread for his pleasure. He looks up at her as he devours her cunt, and she’s unable to look away, her breath coming in fits and starts.

     He pulls away with a wet pop, flicking the tip of his tongue over her swollen clit before he adjusts, pressing her thighs against his shoulders to push them back. He’s delighted at how easy she folds in half for him. A flexible dancer, he’d almost forgotten. He drinks in the sight of her cunt and the puckered bud of her asshole winking at him.

     “Exquisite,” he breathes, watching her sex quiver before him, lowering his head.

     Asiri lets out a shrill squeal when she feels the firm, slick muscle of his tongue swirling around that puckered rosebud. She shudders, the sensation new and confusing, but then…

     “Oh…” She breathes. Sukuna’s tongue pushes past that tight ring of muscle, loosening and relaxing her. “Oh…” A longer moan, and Sukuna feels her entire body seemingly melt into the futon, her head falling back against the pillows as her eyes roll back and then shut.

     “Fuck…” The word comes from her gut as Sukuna’s slides two fingers into her pussy, and one into her asshole, slow and deliberate, working her open in stages.

     “Sukunaaaa…” She moans, feeling delirious from the sensation. It aches, but in the best way an ache can feel. She squirms in his grip, but he’s holding her still, her entire nether-region at the mercy of his mouth and hands. His fingers pump slowly, and she can hear the soft, sticky noise of her pussy growing wetter, can feel her entire body vibrating as the heat begins to coil and coil and coil, white-hot in her belly.

     He pulls his mouth away from her cunt long enough to chuckle, his breath making her pussy lips quiver.

     “Louder, mayoi-hana,” he breathes into her sex, his eyes watching her arch, spreading her thighs wider for him. Longing colors every shade of her undulations.

     “I want Heaven itself to hear who you belong to,” he whispers, nipping playfully at the slick lips of her pussy before his mouth fastens on the bud of her clit, sucking rhythmically in tandem with his pumping fingers.

     Asiri begins to yelp: short, staccato sounds that match his pace, and then she dissolves into begging, tossing her head, reaching down to grip his hair. He grunts from the sudden tug, then growls into her, relishing the bite of her demands that he bring her shuddering to climax.

     But he doesn’t. He prolongs her torment, pushing her toward the edge, then drawing her back.

     “Zagi, Sukuna, please…!” Her voice breaks on a frustrated sob, tugging at his hair but his head won’t budge. He rolls her clit between his lips playfully, slowing his fingers before spitting again, watching it drip down to her asshole.

     He adds another finger.

     Asiri’s back bows from the bed, and her legs come down, heels pressed into the hard muscles of Sukuna’s shoulders as he sucks her clit again and again. Fingers fucking into both of her holes until the coiled heat inside of her snaps outward.

     She screams his name while chanting a refrain of yesyesyes just like that.

     Sukuna relishes the splash of slick that coats his face as he sucks at her cunt greedily, then pulls away with a satisfied groan, licking his lips and wiping his mouth with a smug laugh.

     Asiri lays on the bed, breathing deeply, her body boneless and pliant. Sukuna sees the pillows moist with tears…or drool, he can’t really tell. She turns her head to look up at him, her eyes heavy-lidded, her smile slipping across her face as if it will slide off if she isn’t careful.

     “Still with me?” Sukuna asks with a toothy grin. Asiri sits up, arms trembling. His grin is at once cruel and tender and he leans in, slotting himself between her thighs. Asiri is still as he closes the distance between them. His face is one kiss from her own. She doesn’t break his gaze, seeing the flaring crimson closer than anyone ever has and lived to tell about it.

     “Always,” she whispers, and regrets it. Sukuna blinks, almost as if the word confuses him. As if she confuses him. For a moment she thinks he may pull back, may put a stop to this exploration of their shared pleasure, but instead, he lowers his gaze.

     “Then you’re going to take all of me tonight, mayoi-hana,” he says. “Turn over on your hands and knees.”

     She blinks; eyes wide. Sukuna makes a face.

     “It will be more comfortable in this position, I promise,” he assures her. “After you feel it, I promise I will do other things to you that will make you sick with desire at the most inopportune moments at the mere memory.”

     “Zagi…” She ekes out. Sukuna grins, understanding the meaning.

     “You have no idea, but you will.” He pats her thigh with his lower hand. “Up.”

     Asiri gets up, frowns when he doesn’t back away, resulting in her pressed against him, and he grins at her playfully before easing back to help her maneuver onto her hands and knees.

     “This feels…undignified,” she murmurs, yelping when she looks over her shoulder and Sukuna spreads her thighs wide with his knees. She eyes the black bands of ink around his thighs. Later. She’ll attend to other things later. She’s curious about what it feels like to be taken by him in full.

     “Sex is not about dignity, it’s about desire,” Sukuna says, a set of hands engulfing her hips, smoothing over the tender curves of her rear, spreading her open. He spits into her asshole, and she hisses from the sensation. His thumb massages the saliva while he spits into his hand and strokes his slick, top cock.

     “Do you desire this, Šetû?” He asks as he guides his cocks into her. She arches her back in response, exposing herself fully.

     “Yes,” she shivers out as his cock presses against her asshole, the other nudging itself into her cunt. “I desire little else these days.”

     Sukuna hooks a brow, watching with deep satisfaction as he begins to feed both his cocks into her holes, watching her stretch around him. He grits his teeth, growling as the fit becomes a snug one.

     “Oh? Is that so? So you’ve wanted me to fuck you for a while, then.” Sukuna’s tone is casual even as Asiri makes an anguished noise that dissolves into a helpless moan of wordless pleasure.

     Sukuna grins, then leans his head back and groans as his hips finally sink flush against her rear. He holds her hips but then slides his hands up to grip her waist.

     “I’ll take that as a yes,” he breathes out, pulling his hips back.

     “Sukunaaaa…” Comes her keening moan. Sukuna laughs, stroking his thumbs along her skin in a soothing manner. He drives his hips forward.

     Asiri screams, her head dropping between her shoulders, her hands reaching to grip the headboard, nails digging into the carved wood. Sukuna narrows his eyes. She’s so tight around him, clenching as if she doesn’t want to let him go. If he’s not careful he might indulge her and just stay buried in her until the world crumbles around their ears.

     He takes a moment to stroke her with his hands, tracing the tattoo limned into her nape, the curves of her ass split so prettily around his cock. He growls.

     And then he begins to take her.

     But is it taking when she gives so willingly? He does not know. He only knows that he sets a punishing rhythm, and Asiri throws her braids over one shoulder, gripping the headboard and enduring him. Every strike of his hips against her ass, his balls slapping wetly against her swollen clit, punctuated by her throaty moans…all of it serves to nourish him in ways he never thought he’d want from another living soul.

     Lust is a serpent whose bite had never taken a permanent hold in him. But this is beyond lust. Asiri is reclaiming her body’s pleasure one obscene cry of his name at a time. And he is her personal god, answering those plaintive, beseeching calls to him.

     “Yes!” She cries. “Oh yesyesyesyes, just like thattttt…” One of her hands splay against the headboard, and Sukuna listens as her nails drag against the wood, leaving shallow claw marks. He takes a smug pride in knowing that her pleasure is so great that she must mark the site of its birth. He pulls her back and forth along his cocks, reducing her to high-pitched keening notes, and mindless begging in her mother tongue.

     Sukuna groans at how tight she is. Gods, the grip she has on his cocks should be decidedly unfair. He wants to bury himself inside her depths every minute of the day. Every fucking night. He wants to wring her limp of her sweat, of her tears, of these beautiful songs no one will ever be able to make her sing save for the King of Curses himself.

     One hand encircles her throat, a firm but comfortable grip and she gasps, but then moans.

     His thumb slips into her mouth as he pulls her head back, the arch becoming absolute as he forces her to meet his gaze while he pounds into her. Again and again.

     “Open your mouth,” he growls, eyes flaring. Asiri doesn’t think—there are no thoughts in that pretty head of hers in this moment, he’d wager—and he spits into it. She moans when it hits her tongue, and he leans down to devour her mouth with his own. She kisses him desperately, he kisses her ravenously. Between their hungry mouths, their saliva trails, a wet smacking and devouring to accompany the rhythmic slap of skin against skin as Asiri’s eyes glaze over with that softness that makes the center of Sukuna’s chest twinge, not in discomfort, but exhilaration.

     Briefly—very briefly—he thinks about her smile, about how she must look just opening her eyes in the morning, still clinging to sleep. The smell of her hair when they rode to the festival. Her laughter when he tells a particularly grisly joke. Those dark eyes, glimmering with secrets as she dances. He wants all of her, all of the time, and he’s beginning to think he might be driven mad from it all.

     He fucks her harder, holding her tight to him as she pants and squeals for him.

     “Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop…” She whimpers, begging him as he feels her pussy and ass clench around him. She’s so full—feels more full than she could ever imagine one person possibly being.

     Tears slip from her eyes, and the King of Curses licks them away, growling at her to take it.

     And she does. She takes it deep, she takes it hard, and most of all, she enjoys it.

     So this is what it’s supposed to feel like… Her dazed, fuck-drunk mind thinks, the thought spinning like smoke on the breeze beyond the reach of clarity. Everything about that horrible night feels like another lifetime. Sukuna’s touch, possessive and tender and cruel and all-consuming, burns it away. The rot that has been a festering wound within her, burning under the onslaught of his hands. The self-loathing, torn out at the root with his teeth. All of it, undone, undone, undone.

     “You’re close, aren’t you?” He growls and her eyes are wide. She can’t speak, only sob out a plea that he give her something—anything.

     “Go ahead and come for me, mayoi-hana,” he growls into her skin, sucking marks into her neck, tugging her earlobe with his fangs. “Let me feel how much you want this.”

     Her climax shatters like a star within her, and thunder rattles the temple walls, the wind howling in harmony with her screams.

     Sukuna can’t take it. He shoves her down, hammers her with powerful thrusts, chasing a climax that he wants to bury so deep inside of her that any other after him will feel the splinters of his soul within her like barbs.

     “Oh, Sukuna…” She gasps when all four of his arms come around her, crushing her body to him, burying both his cocks deep as they twitch, filling her; filling her until it leaks between her thighs, slick and sticky.

     The storm unleashes its fury as he holds her tight, and they breathe with it—through it—sweat-slick skin slipping against one another. Asiri is limp and boneless in his arms, eyes heavy-lidded as he slowly begins to untangle their limbs. The process of slipping from her results in a mess, and him having to catch her before she tumbles. He lays her down gently, and she gladly hugs one of the massive pillows, catching her breath. Sukuna smirks down at her, already feeling refreshed, his cocks slick and dripping. Asiri peers up at him before she moves, quickly.

     She leans in as Sukuna watches her with sharp, predatory eyes. Then, in a moment of carnal curiosity, she licks a drop of pearlescent and salty come from the tips of both his cocks, looking up at him. His jaw tenses and a low sound comes from him. She bites her lip and pulls away with an almost secret smile, as if she cannot believe her own boldness.

     “How do you feel, mayoi-hana?” He asks, reaching to cup her chin, tilting her gaze back up to him. Asiri shamelessly leans into his touch, now, still smiling. It is the look of a woman who has realized that she is not a broken thing. Sukuna sees her come to the realization as her gaze meets his.

     “Sated,” she murmurs, still biting her lip with a girlish smile. “For now.”

     Sukuna grins slowly at that, stroking her jaw and carding his fingers through her braids to examine the flushing purple bruises forming on her neck from where his mouth claimed her tender flesh. Then, he moves off of the futon, retreating to the partitioned wash room. He doesn’t bother to dress, and Asiri takes that moment to truly observe him.

     Sukuna is, for lack of adequate description, beautiful.

     Her eyes trail over him from head to toe and she thinks to herself that he is perfectly made. Whatever features she once found grotesque are in fact the keys to his perfection. Every muscle and sinew, every movement…he is everything self-contained in one flesh; an entity wholly unto himself. She looks away briefly, wondering why her heart hurts and feels so full at the same time; why it races and skips and skids as if every movement and gesture he makes yanks it from her chest. The sight of him fills her with something she cannot name. It is not lust, nor is it anything that could be called true admiration. Joy? No, even that fails to do it justice.

     She decides not to think of it, now.

     Sukuna returns with a bowl, an ewer, and a wash rag. Asiri watches as he wipes her down, smiling as she sinks into the pillows.

     “I want more,” she whispers. Sukuna gives her an incredulous look.

     “You have probably scared every cursed spirit in the forest out into the hills with your delicious screaming; are you sure you can handle more of me?” He asks dryly.

     For a moment, Asiri says nothing.

     “Yes,” she breathes. Then Sukuna watches as she breathes, shutting her eyes. Her cursed energy flares, moving around her body, slipping between her thighs. His eyes narrow. There’s no way she’s…

     Her hand follows, and his gaze sharpens: main eyes on her face, his lower eyes tracking the movement of her hand.

     “Clever,” he snorts, lower eyes dropping to her cunt automatically as she adjusts, her thighs spreading wider. He can see the glistening trail of his seed all over her.

     Asiri takes two fingers, spreads her lips open and Sukuna nearly cracks his teeth his jaw is so tight, but he doesn’t move.

     She gathers the commingled juices, slipping her fingers around the lovely shape of her cunt, trapping her swollen clit between her knuckles. Back and forth, spreading his seed all over her, grinding her hips. She whines in pleasure and he watches.

     It doesn’t take long, and Sukuna finds himself breathing with her as she strokes herself to climax, moaning for him and giving him a show; and he watches that lovely hole clench and flutter and spasm and spill her essence and his all over her stroking fingers.

     Her eyes flutter open, and she lets out a pleased little sigh before bringing her fingers to her lips.

     Sukuna’s hand snatches her wrist, startling her, and she stares at him with wide, eager eyes as he brings her slicked fingers to his lips, sucking them down to the knuckle, relishing the taste of both of them on his tongue. It’s almost enough to stir him again, but he wants a break. He’ll not rush any moment of this, and they have the entire night to themselves. No one will disturb them. Still, he will admit that was the sexiest thing he’d seen anyone do in front of him without prompting or commanding.

     He retrieves the rag from her and pulls on his hakama. Walking to slide open the shoji leading to the engawa. Outside, a steady downpour is going, rain dripping in curtains from the upturned edges of the pagoda roofing. The engawa remains relatively dry, and the air is pleasantly mild and cool against his skin. He retrieves a long lacquered case, and takes a seat outside.

     Not to be left behind, Asiri climbs out of the futon, and in lieu of anything else, grabs Sukuna’s black haori, throwing it over herself. She comes to join him out on the engawa and he looks up in the midst of…her brows furrow.

     Sukuna is crushing pungent, green flower buds of ganja into the bowl of his kiseru. He glances up at her as he snaps his fingers over the crumbled flower, igniting it as he inhales. He breathes out a cloud of reaper gray, the air pungent with the burning flower. He gazes at her standing there, naked under his massive haori. With that same preternatural grace, he rearranges himself and she goes to him, settling in his sphere. He passes her the kiseru wordlessly and she takes a draw, holding in a cough before releasing it.

     Almost immediately, she feels sluggish and languorous.

     “Mmm…” Comes her pleased hum as she watches rain pour out in the garden, lightning occasionally illuminating the entire scene. She leans into Sukuna, and one of his arms comes around her as he smokes. Asiri feels something lower in her mind’s defenses along with her eyelids. There’s a light feeling in her limbs and chest and she bites her lip on a mindless giggle. Sukuna’s lower eyes flick down to her, and the corner of his lips lift.

     “Sukuna,” Asiri breathes. Sukuna hums in acknowledgement. “When you found me that night…why did you save me?”

     Sukuna frowns. She wants to do this now? He sighs, exhaling smoke. He supposes there’s nothing to lose at this point.

     “I didn’t save you, Šetû,” he breathes in a reluctantly laconic tone. “You saved yourself, I merely watched. Had you died that night I simply would have eaten you.”

     Asiri’s eyes widen. It’s callous, but it’s honest. It still stings. Sukuna has never been one to mince words not matter how much they hurt. She breathes deep, ignores the stinging prick of tears in her eyes before blinking them away.

     “But I knew you wouldn’t die,” Sukuna continues and Asiri looks up at him. He’s watching the rain, the embers of his kiseru still burning as he passes it to her. “Uraume wanted to know why I refused to heal you, and the truth is Šetû is that I knew you were more than capable of doing it yourself. I knew it from the first moment I tasted your cursed energy the night we met. I knew you had it in you to dig out of the shallow grave that pitiful Zenin brat left you in.”

     “You were testing me,” Asiri breathes. Sukuna dips his head in a nod.

     “In a sense,” Sukuna says nonchalantly. “Once you healed yourself, I brought you here to get answers. I saw the residuals of cursed technique usage around the site of the attack, but I knew if you survived, you could give me a name.”

     Asiri takes another drag.

     “Why was it important to you to know who attacked me?”

     Sukuna growls.

     “I invited you and your family as my honored guests. I had planned to formally hire you to entertain me. Zenin attacking you was a direct insult to me, violating the tenets of my hospitality, such as it is.”

     Asiri leans her head against his shoulder.

     “When he was raping me,” she says. “He said I was your creature. Said you’d hired a foreign sorcerer to aid you. At the time I didn’t know what he meant. I had no idea who you were, not really.”

     Sukuna snorts. “And do you know who I am, now, little flower?”

     Asiri smiles. “You are mine,” she says with a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes. Sukuna stares down at her with his lower eyes and says nothing.

     “You promised,” she reminds him. He snorts.

     “So I did,” he grumbles. “And what does it mean to belong to Šetû Asiri, I wonder. What glorious sights will I behold while beneath you?”

     Her cheeks burn and she looks away when he grins to see his joke land exactly where he intended. He nudges her gently.

     “You are no one’s creature,” he tells her. “Least of all mine. Too stubborn.”

     She nudges him back, annoyed when he doesn’t budge.

     “But I am yours,” she says. Sukuna turns the full of his gaze upon her.

     “Thou, and no other,” he reminds her. She smiles at him, leaning her head against his shoulder again. The rain sounds like a waterfall, but it’s muted against the lush grass. For a moment they sit in silence, listening to it, breathing with it.

     A question forms in Sukuna’s mind, one he finds himself reluctant to ask. There’s only two answers to his question, and only one he wants to hear.

     He remains silent.

     “Sukuna,” Asiri says quietly. “More.”

     Sukuna’s brows go up. “Insatiable little minx,” he teases. “Tell me what you want.”

     Asiri pulls away from him, watches as he taps out the ash of his kiseru and replaces it in the lacquered box. She sits on her heels.

     “I want to taste you,” she murmurs and that draws the full of his gaze again, hard and sharp and unblinking.

     “What?” He asks quietly. Asiri gulps, taking a deep inhale.

     “Your cocks, I want to taste them…” Her cheeks burn. “Every part of you, really. You are so…”

     Sukuna smirks and leans back on his lower hands, one of his upper hands beckoning her closer. For a moment, Asiri wants to resist him, but he looks too much like some god out of an old myth, reclining in leisure. She closes the distance slowly, once again wondering what she must do. She tries to remember any frame of reference before that horrible night. Sometimes her cousins would visit brothels on their travels, and she tries to remember the glimpses of that life she managed to catch. Women far bolder in sex than she, gossiping about sex.

     Nothing in her memory is helpful.

     “The night won’t last forever, mayoi-hana,” Sukuna growls impatiently.

     Asiri shoots him a look.

     “Mscheww. Jirgin da ya kawo Bilal shi ne jirgin da ya kawo Musa.” She snaps back impatiently and Sukuna’s eyes go wide. Then he tips his head back and laughs. While he laughs, she reaches for the waistband of his hakama, loosening it and freeing one of his cocks, already straining and hard. It bobs, veined and tattooed, and she marvels at how big it is. To think it was inside of her not too long ago. Sukuna watches her as she reaches and wraps her hand around the base of the shaft, but her fingers don’t meet on the other side.

     She strokes him once, gaze sharpening when a strained sound comes from Sukuna’s chest.

     Again, up and down, squeezing tighter, and Sukuna’s lids lower slightly, a lazy smirk curling his sensuous mouth. Asiri watches as a bead of pearlescent seed forms at the tip of his cock and then, as before, she leans in and licks the droplet.

     Sukuna groans from the contact, still somewhat sensitive from earlier. Asiri smiles, gives a circling lick around the head, slow and indulgent. Sukuna lets out a soft, reverent swear at the sight of those dark eyes looking up at him, his cock in her grip, her tongue swirling and eager to taste him.

     She lowers her head, coming down to the heavy sack of his balls. Sukuna’s eyes widen as she brushes her lips against the sensitive skin, tests the weight of them on her tongue, lifting his cock and stroking as she sucks one into her mouth, blinking up at him.

     “Fuck…” Comes his guttural growl. “You are so gods-bedamned beautiful, Šetû. Perfect, just like that.”

     She sucks on one, then the other, relishing and lavishing every part of him that brings her pleasure, tracing the seam between them with her tongue from front to back. He hisses when her tongue tickles close to the back, and the sight of her with them resting on her lips is enough that he wants to spend on her pretty face at least once.

     Asiri explores some more when her lips close around the head of his cock. For a moment, that’s all she does, but her tongue rolls against the head and Sukuna’s hips shift slightly, the small muscles in his thighs twitching from the effort of trying not to lose control as Asiri explores this new avenue of pleasure. Slowly she lowers her head, and inch by inch he enters her mouth.

     “Yes…” Sukuna breathes out in a harsh hiss. “Just like that…”

     Asiri takes as much of the shaft into her mouth as she can, pausing to find out how to work her stroking hand in tandem with her mouth. She pulls up, hollowing her cheeks to hold the head longer while her tongue lashes back and forth across the tip. Sukuna grits his teeth on a groan.

     “Faster…” He hisses reaching to grab her head and force her down. He hears her choke and cough slightly as the thick head of his cock bumps the back of her throat. Then he pulls her up and she looks up at him, eyelashes fluttering.

     Down. Choke. Cough. Wince. Drool.

     Up. His cock glistening with her drool. Eyelids fluttering. Groaning.

     Down. Choke. Drool. Cough.

     Up. Down. Up. Down. Faster.

     In the privacy of his engawa, Sukuna watches as Asiri’s head bobs in a fluid rhythm in his lap, taking to the task of pleasing him with eager relish. She strokes and sucks him, relishing the taste of their commingled fluids. She looks up at him, eyes glimmering with something akin to admiration and pleasure at having pleased him.

     “Fuck, that’s good…” He praises, only slightly winded. “You sure you haven’t done this before?”

     Asiri pauses long enough to shoot a smirk with her eyes alone, tracing the veins of his cock with the tip of her tongue.

     Down. This time, Sukuna forces her further, until he feels her neck relax in an effort to get the head of his cock past the tight entrance of her throat. Once there, he feeds the rest of his cock to her, watching tears run down her face as he sheathes himself in her throat, her nose pressed against the soft, downy blush-colored hair at the base. He holds her there until he feels the small muscles of her throat working in swallowing motions, relaxing her jaw until he hears the wet, sticky sound of her drool dripping down her chin and soaking the heavy sack of his balls.

     “Oh fuck!” Sukuna groans. “Fuck yes. That’s it.” His head tips back and he moans louder, pulling her up as she makes a high-pitched gasp for air and then she’s down again.

     Her head bobs faster, and he leashes her by her hair, guiding her until all he can hear is the lewd, wet sucking noises of her mouth and the deep, guttural sound of her choking as he fucks her beautiful face. And what a beautiful face it is. Sukuna thinks she has never looked better, her full lips stretched around his cock, tears in her eyes, drool dripping down her chin and neck as she struggles to take him deep every single time he pushes her head down.

     Faster.

     Deeper. One hand shifts to feel that bulge in her throat, stroking it tenderly. She gags, but then forces it down.

     The rain pours. There’s a rapid series of wet squelching and sucking noise as Sukuna reduces Asiri to the pleasure of her lips, tongue, and throat, and Asiri relishes being used for his enjoyment. She relishes pleasing him.

     Faster. Deeper. Choke.

     Sukuna’s breaths come heavier, and he feels the telltale tingle at the base of his spine. He’s so close.

     Tears runs down her face as Sukuna forces her down with a primal sound that is right at home in the wild places of the earth,; right at home in the storm raging just steps away from them. His cock fills her mouth, pulsing and twitching, and she holds her breath as copious amounts of his seed paints her throat. Hot enough that it nearly shocks her into coughing, and plentiful enough that what doesn’t make it down her throat fills her mouth and leaks from the corners, dribbling down her chin. A beautiful, messy creature.

     Sukuna waits until the last spurts and twitches subside before he pulls her off of his cock, listening with residual pleasure as she gasps desperately for air, lips swollen and glistening with seed and saliva. She licks her lips, sitting back on her heels and swaying as she regains her composure.

     Sukuna lays where he is, breathing deep.

     “Fuck…” He murmurs quietly, catching his breath. “Ah, you are more than I could have dreamed, Šetû. Where did you learn such obscene skills?”

     Asiri shrugs. “I didn’t. I simply…guessed what to do.”

     Sukuna hooks an incredulous brow.

     She reaches forward, runs a fingertip over his softening cock making him hiss. He glares at her but does nothing to stop her.

     “It’s pretty straightforward in its workings,” she says matter-of-factly. Sukuna snorts. He won’t argue that. It’s rare he meets virginal women who know anything about the body. Though he remembers telling her this was a dance for which the steps would come easy to one such as her.

     He smirks, and with that frightening speed, leans up, reaching to pull her into his lap, freeing his other cock. Divining his desire, Asiri lets him maneuver her, hooking her legs over the elbows of his lower arms, before dropping her unceremoniously on his cock.

     She screams, but she’s already wet and tender for him as he stretches her pussy again. He wraps his arms around her completely, keeping her folded in half and crushed against him. He has complete control and he sees none of the fear in her.

     She trusts him.

     “Sukuna…” She whines. “Sukuna, I can’t…too big…”

     Sukuna laughs and without preamble begins bouncing her helplessly on his cock. Asiri wraps her arms around his neck, fingers gripping his hair. Sukuna murmurs against her mouth.

     “I saw potential in you,” he repeats his earlier words amidst her whimpering as he slows his pace to torment her with deep, languorous strokes. Up and down, a wet, sticky sound as her pussy is parted around his thick cock again and again. So big…so fucking big. She almost feels too full.

 ��   “But not just for sorcery,” he continues. “I wanted to taste you on my tongue, wanted to feel you split on my cock just…like…this…ngh!” He punctuates those last words with a hard, pounding thrust.

     Asiri’s mind is wiped. There’s only the King of Curses there, occupying her every fleeting thought. She babbles mindlessly.

     “Sukuna, don Allah zan yi komai kawai...don Allah…” She sobs. Sukuna doesn’t understand and he grins at her in the dim light, only the glow of his eyes visible.

     “Are you begging?” He mocks. “You think you can just beg me in any tongue that flits into that pretty head of yours and I’ll just concede to your demands?”

     She’s crying, but not out of shame or embarrassment or anger, but the pleasure. God, she feels like she’s coming apart.

     And that’s exactly when Sukuna reaches between them, strumming her clit cruelly with his thumb. He wants her to come apart. Wants to run his hands through the shattered bits of starlight that is her soul, and fuse them to the gold of her own strength.

     There’s a high, keening wail that competes with the thunder and lightning, and then a clamping of lust-slick, velveteen muscles. Sukuna lets out a surprised groan and chuckles.

     “Oh, how magnificent: she’s crying and coming all over my cock again…and she thinks we’re done.”

     The night stretches endlessly it seems. When she comes, it undoes the last of the chains she’s carried since autumn. The guilt, the grief, the fear…all of it melts away as Sukuna gathers her in his arms and carries her inside, sliding the shoji shut behind him. He heads to the partitioned bath chamber, pulling a lever to bring water into the massive, beaten copper tub from the rooftop cistern. He lights the incense and coals beneath the tub.

     Asiri is vaguely aware of his actions, head lolling against his chest as he strips her of the haori and abandons his hakama. She feels him move, and then they sink into the bath. He arranges her between his legs, and the warm water immediately makes her melt.

     Asiri doesn’t question it, she simply leans back against him. Sukuna shifts, spreading his upper arms along the edge of the tub to rest, his lower arms around Asiri, pulling her back against him.

     “Won’t your belly mouth drown?” She asks lamely, her words only slightly slurred. Sukuna blinks, nonplussed. Ah, she’s still inebriated from the ganja. What a stupid question. He doesn’t dignify it with an answer, reaching for a wash rag and an earthenware jar of soaps and oil.

     Asiri leans forward as she piles her braids atop her head. Sukuna looks down, sees the mark on her nape clearly in the lantern light. He reaches, traces it with his fingertips much like she’d done with his own tattoos. And like her, he doesn’t ask her what this mark means. He feels something powerful about it, something resembling protective warding. A barrier seal, perhaps?

     “My mother called it psychic armor,” Asiri says in a lazy tone. She smiles, drawing her knees to her chest to rest her cheek on them. “She and someone designed the mark to protect me from harm by those who harbor ill thoughts about me.”

     Sukuna says nothing, tracing the black limned marking with a reverence one paid to gods.

     Gods…like him.

     Goddesses…like her.

     “And now you command the sky’s wrath,” Sukuna murmurs in an amused tone. Asiri laughs softly.

     “Yes,” she agrees. “I command the sky’s wrath…as my grandfather did.”

     “So you knew you were a sorcerer,” Sukuna says darkly. Asiri, sensing his displeasure, sits up and shakes her head.

     “No,” she says in her defense. “My grandfather’s gift had always been a paternal one. It had only ever manifested in the men of his line. It had been my parents’ hope that the gift died with my grandfather. Islam has taken root in my homeland and they frown upon such magics in their faith. It had been Amadou’s hope that it passed to him.”

     Sukuna begins to understand, now. It must have galled Amadou to see such a gift passed to one who was not supposed to have it…and Sukuna has learned that it’s precisely that kind of spiritual and secret greed that forces the universe to dispense a lesson in the form of beings like her. And beings like him. Sometimes those lessons were permanent in nature.

     “That was another reason we had to leave,” she says softly. “Had it gotten out that I had his gift, it would have destroyed my family.”

     Sukuna’s lip curls. “Sounds like your family was no better than the Zenins or any of the other sorcerer clans who care more about breeding sorcerers with certain techniques rather than training the sorcerers available to them to be good at jujutsu.”

     Asiri snorts and laughs as well.

     “Yes,” she says softly. “Still, Amadou never held it against me. And for a long while, whatever the shaman had sensed in me, was quiet. For a few years, I was just Šetû. Just a marokiya with…quirks, I suppose.”

     Sukuna’s lower hands cup her breasts beneath the water and she takes comfort in his touch as it roves over her, rubbing her abused muscles into tenderness.

     “Now you are more.” He says in that deadly quiet finality. But it doesn’t scare her anymore. It thrills her.

     “Now I am more.” She agrees, and believes it.

     After their bath, Sukuna helps her dry off, and leers at her shamelessly. She smiles shyly, squeezing out her braids before pushing them over one shoulder. She leans over to adjust her anklet. Sukuna watches her and thinks he can get used to seeing her in this bedchamber.

     Not as his guest, or pupil, or ward. Not even as food.

     Something more.

     Asiri leans back up, her gaze snagging on his.

     “What is it?” She asks, her tone one of hushed expectancy, her expression guileless. Sukuna wants to take all that softness in her and put it inside himself for safekeeping. The world will take it from her otherwise, but within his soul, he can keep her safe.

     He doesn’t answer.

     They return to the futon, and Asiri mounts the empty, rumpled sheets, and he watches her, briefly on her hands and knees as she attempts to smooth the rumpled bedding. He gets a glimpse of her swollen and abused cunt, and feels his cocks getting hard again. She sits back on her heels and looks at him.

     “Sukuna?” She ventures. “You haven’t been a shit to me for a full five minutes, are you sure you’re alright?”

     That brings him back and he frowns.

     “Watch your tongue, brat.” He warns. She hooks a brow at him, tilting her head. She doesn’t respond but she does climb out of bed to stand before his full-length mirror. He joins her as she observes herself. She runs her hands over various planes of her body, squeezing and pinching. He turns her to face him and she looks up.

     “Say something,” she says.

     “I want your throat around my cock again,” he responds without missing a beat.

     Her eyelids flutter and her mouth opens and then closes.

     “That’s funny,” she breathes. “I wanted both your cocks inside me again.”

     That bloodthirsty grin spreads across his face and Asiri wonders if this is the final sight of his enemies before he slaughters them. He places his hands on her shoulders, turns her to face the mirror. She meets his gaze in their shared reflection, watches as all four of his hands caress her reverently, learning every contour that shapes her. The darkling Galatea to this monstrous and possessive Pygmalion.

     For the second time, they sink to the floor together, one of his arms wrapped around her waist as she folds her knees under her and he spreads her thighs. Without breaking her gaze in the mirror, one of his hands slides between her legs, fingers tracing her cunt.

     She shivers, and he feels the first pearls of moisture form. Lightly, he moves his finger forward and back, lightly grazing her clit. She trembles.

     Back and forth.

     Her eyelids flutter.

     Back and forth.

     A small, restrained groan. More wetness.

     Back and forth.

     She falls forward onto her forearms, exposing herself further.

     Sukuna hears the music he has come to love the most: the slick sound of her cunt waking up just for him. He dips a finger in, carefully. One would think after hours of this, the tissues would become numb to overuse, even injured, but he watched her use reverse cursed technique to heal herself earlier while bringing herself to climax. Who knew beneath that soul scar was such a devilish and insatiable little minx?

     She shifts, spreading her thighs wider. Sukuna eyes watch her in the mirror, his lower eyes watching his fingers gather her juices with each thrust.

     Another finger.

     “Oh,” comes her soft moan. A few droplets spill.

     Dripdrip. Against the wooden floor, glittering like obscene dew. Sukuna licks his lips. He wants to devour her, and he wants to fuck her.

     “I love how wet you get for me,” Sukuna groans. “Hotter than a forge and wetter than tears. I’m going to enjoy this.”

     Another hand presses against her back, deepening her arch, and she bows herself for him obediently—eagerly. Sukuna is quietly impressed with her flexibility, though he should not be surprised.

     Asiri focuses her vision and looks up; comes face to face with a captive dream spirit in a position of vulnerable supplication, the God of Hida on his knees behind her, his cocks swollen and straining, pearly drops of seed beading at the tips. With his main eyes on hers in their reflection, his lower eyes flicker down as he spreads the curves of her ass apart and admires her, circling his thumb around the puckered bud and smirking when it clenches from the contact. She’s more pliant now that he’s prepared her and used her.

     The maw on his belly parts in a hungry grin, the tattooed tongue rolling out of from between the fangs like a serpent. Saliva drips from it like acid, splattering onto the small of her back, and she shivers.

     Then, it slides between the spread globes of her ass, teasing the puckered hole.

     “Oh fuck…!” She whines, watching in the mirror as the tongue slides up and down, saliva dripping all over, making a messy of her. The tip of it pushes that puckered bud and he feels it give, stretching slightly, and Asiri’s eyes screw shut as she whines helplessly while the massive tongue pumps in and out of her in shallow thrusts. There is only her voice, and the wet, sticky sound of his tongue.

     “Look how beautiful you are,” Sukuna praises with the mouth on his face, the other preoccupied with her asshole. “On your hands and knees for me, at my mercy, and whining like a whore for me to fuck you. Are you still mine, Šetû?”

     He shapes her name like a leash and collar, and she lets him slip it around her throat. Lets him pull it tight, demanding her submission.

     “Yes,” comes her strained, desperate whimper as he adds another finger to her cunt, fucking both of her holes with rhythmic pumps. She keeps whimpering. It’s unfair that he can do all of this to her, bring her to such unimaginable pleasure that it feels almost criminal to enjoy it. It feels like the sweetest taboo.

     “Keep talking, little flower, I want to hear how much you belong to me.”

     “Ciki…na…masoyí…” She begs, her dark eyes pleading with his in the mirror. Sukuna will never tire of that lambent, plaintive  gaze she gives him, as if he holds the very air she needs to breathe and will do anything for one, desperate inhale.

     “Come for me,” he murmurs. “Come for me and I’ll give you exactly what you crave, mayoi-hana. Drench me as only you can.”

     And she does. That light circling of her clit, his pumping fingers, that fucking massive tongue, and the silken honey of his voice all serve to bring her shuddering to climax and she watches in the mirror as he withdraws his fingers, sucking her juices from them indulgently. The tongue lolls and the mouth on his belly grins in satisfaction.

     Asiri’s body quivers both in anticipation and in the aftermath of her climax.

     Only then does her fill her with his cocks, feeding one and the other into both her holes. This time, there’s more give, the slide slick between them, and he sinks into her much quicker and smoother, hands pulling her hips back until she lifts her head, eyes blurred and unfocused.

     “Stay with me, Šetû,” he grits out, pulling his hips back and driving forward. Long, throaty moans tear from her, more hoarse than before—he’s had her screaming for most of the night—and he holds her head up with one hand, not allowing her to look away from their reflection.

     Asiri is mesmerized by the sight. Sukuna’s face is flushed in the cheeks, sweat gleaming on his brown skin. The muscles of his abdomen work as he pumps himself in and then out of her, again and again, until the sound of skin meeting skin is all there is, as loud as her cries for more. Louder than the storm that is both her doing and not.

     “Oh fuck!” She moans, words trailing as she endures him. “Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop…” She begs and chants, bracing herself even as he holds her by the throat. Tears slip from her eyes again, and another arm bands around her waist, leashing her more securely so that he can pound her more thoroughly.

     In and out. Again and again and again. She hopes he never stops. She hopes he wrings everything out of her, until all she knows is to belong to him.

     Plapplapplapplaplapplaplap—

“You want this,” Sukuna tells her, but it’s a question also, the only sign that he wants her reassurance as much as her surrender. “You need this…”

     “Yes,” she ekes out, the words dragging like a chain through her throat straight from the belly. “Yes…!”

     And she means it. Something moves through both of them as he plows her, like a dark wind.

     Another hand, stroking her clit while he stuffs her full, relishing those tight confines of her body, and the look of absolute bliss in her reflection. For his part, Sukuna looks like some feral beast, all teeth and maw and growling, but he pulls her up to him, holding her suspended against him so he can kiss her, and drink down her cries like rare wine. His lower eyes watch their reflection, wanting to commit this moment to memory.

     His lips travel down, and he sinks his teeth into the tender meat of her shoulder, just enough to bruise. She cries out and shudders in his arms. He tightens his bite, breaking the skin, and the coppery sweetness of her floods his mouth as she mewls in pain. He licks the wound he’s made, the closest thing to an apology, but also a self-indulgent excuse to continue to taste her in every way he can.

     “Mine,” he growls, unthinking. The one thing in the world Asiri is that she is to no one else. He won’t let her be anyone else’s after this.

     “Yours,” she whimpers, her voice warbling with her tears; agreeing, pleading, begging for it to be true. Begging him to make it true; her eyes shining with tears and his heart stinging from that other look in her gaze that makes him feel more naked than he is right now. As if she’s looking at his soul and not him. As if the rot of his own curses within his viscera does not repulse her.

     He presses his fingers against her clit, trapping it and stroking it relentlessly.

     “Give me one more, mayoi-hana,” he pants. “Gambare, gambare.”

     She gives him two. And then one more, breaking in his arms as she dissolves into helpless sobs, the pleasure insurmountable.

     And then he fucks her harder. He wants to undo everything that bastard Zenin did to her, wants to strip it away so completely that she does not remember the pain of that violation, only the pleasure of his touch, only the pleasure of being his.

Just as he is hers. Gods she’s had him since their eyes met that night and he was inevitably drawn into the invitation of those beautiful forest pools in her beautiful face.

     Love.

     That realization is what sends him over the edge, and in their shared reflection, two people who do not find themselves worthy of love, find themselves tangled within it like moth wings in the gossamer of spider silk. Sukuna spends himself inside of her again, his thrusts ragged and staggered as he groans loudly, thoroughly sated as he claims her in full. Though not nearly as copious as the first time, it is still a generous amount and he watches with satisfaction as it drips out of her onto the wooden floor. He groans again, deep and from the belly, tipping his head back and panting, muscles twitching, body gleaming with sweat.

     Their reflection is like erotic art. His limbs tangled with hers, her spread and impaled on him. Heaving together in their shared breath, mouths seeking one another’s like breathing.

     Sukuna slides out of her with a low groan and her soft whimpering mewl.

     He has strength aplenty, but he knows she is at her limit from the dazed look in her eyes. He carries her back to the futon, wiping her down with a clean rag before joining her. He douses the lantern with a swipe of her hand, plunging the room into the softer, dimmer light of the brazier, which burns low, mounted on a plinth.

     Asiri stretches out along the bed on her stomach, eyes already heavy with fatigue, body limp and boneless and replete.

     Sated.

     “Sukuna,” she murmurs, her voice slurred. “Thank you for…”

     Her eyes slip closed as she shivers and he turns to look at her. Has she fallen asleep so quickly?

     “Sorry,” she mumbles, then giggles and shivers again before Sukuna pulls the covers over them both. “Aftershocks.”

     He sucks his teeth but the annoyance has no bite to it. He watches her as she blinks slowly at him, her smile lazy and dreamy. For a moment, he almost says something to her that he has said to no one before, but instead he decides to watch her in silence. She reaches for him, clumsily finding his face before stroking it.

     “You didn’t have to save me,” she tells him. “But you did. I don’t think all of your bad reputation is warranted.”

     Sukuna grins. “Oh, it is,” he tells her. “But I have been known to follow my interests and whims.”

     Asiri adjusts with a soft groan.

     “And am I an interest or a whim?” She asks him. Sukuna reaches over, traces his fingertips down the length of her spine, over the curve of her hip. Asiri watches him with expectant, guileless eyes, her skin glowing in the aftermath of their rigorous fucking.

     “You are…something else,” Sukuna admits. “What that is, I cannot readily say. If you want me to call you my lover, I cannot. That has never been something I could give to anyone.”

     Asiri’s brows furrow. “I do not want you to call me that if that is not what I am. I merely ask…am I interest or whim?”

     Sukuna brushes a braid from her face.

     “Interest,” he replies and Asiri smirks as if he has just told her a delicious secret.

     “Interest is good,” she murmurs. “Interest means you think of me often.”

     Sukuna snorts. “Hardly.”

     “Sukuna, you don’t fuck someone the way you just fucked me if you don’t think of them. You think of me. It’s alright.”

     Sukuna’s nose wrinkles and he frowns. Asiri laughs, rolling onto her back. She laughs like she’s just heard the sweetest joke, or learned the most ridiculous information about someone she hates. She laughs and he sees that sharp smile of hers from the first night they met. Perhaps a night of vigorous fucking was part of what was needed to get that spark back.

     “I think of you often, too,” she admits when her laughter quiets and she lays on her back, staring at the ceiling. She turns her head to look at him.

     “I think of how you looked at the harvest festival, like you wanted to be anywhere else. I think about how you and Uraume came to our camp, and how I felt so honored that you’d even be interested or curious about us. I think of you and your fire, helping me reclaim the map of my body’s pleasure. And I’ll think of you long after all of this is done.”

     Sukuna lays back with a sigh.

     “And what will you do?” He asks. “When all this is done? Where will those dancing feet take you?”

     Asiri rolls closer to him, and Sukuna marvels at how different she is compared to when they first met. Seeing her relaxed and comfortable in this state is…

     “I don’t know,” she says softly. “I hadn’t thought that far…” She stifles a yawn behind her hand.

     “That is a problem for future Asiri to handle,” she mumbles and carves out a space at his side. Sukuna surprises himself when his arms automatically come around her and he folds her into his embrace, hauling her on top of him so she can lay there. His lower hands slide down to cup her rear, his upper arms wrapped around her, hands smoothing up and down her back.

     The rain pours outside, and Asiri’s eyes lower, sleep calling stronger with every breath, Sukuna’s breathing and heartbeat lulling her deeper.

     “Goodnight, masoyí…”

     That name again. He wants to ask her what it means.

     Sukuna feels her breathing even out, and then hears a light snore indicating she’s asleep.

     He watches the rain through the windows a while longer, and soon, shuts his eyes.

     The rain stops at some point in the night, just before dawn. The brazier’s fire has died down to a few embers, leaving the room much cooler. There’s a lingering scent of sandalwood in the air…and sex.

     Sukuna slips from bed just as dawn begins to bring color back into the world. He watches Asiri, who lays unmoving amidst the rumpled bedding, her face relaxed in sleep, her breathing deep and even. Reluctantly, he turns away from her and heads to the engawa. Outside, water drips from the pagoda roofing, and there’s a feeling of freshness in the air as he breathes deep. The hot spring is steaming, and he contemplates waking Asiri to join him for a soak. Instead, he opts to have a contemplative smoke from his kiseru and head back inside.

     She’s still sleeping.

     Sukuna tries to ignore her presence, but all he can think of is everything from the night. Her whimpering, her moaning, her eagerness to please and be pleased. Her taking joy in something that had been tainted for her for so long. He thinks of that name she called him before slipping into sleep. The same name she called him when she held his face in her hands and looked at him as if she were looking upon—

     He cannot even lie to himself and say he’s imagining it, and it irritates him.

     Never has he needed anyone to satisfy him. He has been a solitary creature since his mother abandoned him for death when he was barely old enough to understand what death actually is. He has lost track of the years, and the only thing he knows is the velvet crimson of the blood that stains his soul so dark he fears Asiri will fall prey to his curse.

     He can protect her from anyone. From everyone. Just not himself. So he must make sure she is strong. Otherwise, it will be him stealing the light from her eyes, even when he doesn’t intend to.

     He sits on a low stool, and he watches her. She’s unmoving in her sleep, lips parted as she breathes. She shifts rarely, content to stay curled amidst those sheets, as if the they are the tattered remains of a cocoon that birthed her exquisite form. She lets out a soft moan, brow pinched as she rolls onto her side, her back to him. His eyes follow her movements, lingering on the limned mark on her nape.

     Psychic armor.

     Sukuna has heard tell of a sorcerer, more myth than anything, called the Marquist. They specialize in tattoos for sorcerers. He has heard of sorcerers meeting with this mysterious figure, but no one speaks of it directly. He deduces that most of the truth is locked behind a series of complex and iron-clad binding vows. Still, he lingers on Asiri’s tattoo a moment longer, and wonders.

     His lower eyes snap to the door as it slides open. Uraume is there, a tray laden with a teapot, a small jar of honey, and a cup. Sukuna knows the contents of the tea, and watches as they glide inside and set the tray on the low bedside table.

     “Lord Sukuna,” they greet with a reverent bow. “Shall I prepa—”

     Sukuna holds up a gentle forestalling hand, then puts a finger to his lips indicating silence. Uraume’s lilac gaze drifts like snowfall toward the sleeping Asiri, a small, nigh imperceptible smile curving their mouth. It is a fondness Asiri herself has earned from them, and not just because she has enamored their lord.

     “Understood, my lord,” they say, and excuse themselves from the room. Sukuna doesn’t even hear them leave down the hall. He’s trained them well in stealth.

     His gaze returns to Asiri, who sleeps continuously, and he wonders what her answer will be when her vengeance is done.

     I’m going to take you, and then I’m going to bind you to me.

He hasn’t offered the Pact of the Wheel yet, and he’s reluctant to do so. Not because he does not want to be bound, but he cannot fathom what will become of her being bound to someone like him. Everything he touches corrupts eventually. He does not want her to be one of those.

     Asiri’s eyes flutter open, drawn from sleep by the rapidly cooling sheets that mark Sukuna’s absence. Sunlight floods the room, and she stretches indulgently in the bed, groaning from the ache in all her parts. Her inner thighs are sore with each movement, quivering in protest when she tries to lift her legs. There’s a stinging soreness on her shoulder and she sits up abruptly when she feels the wound of Sukuna’s bite, scabbed over. There’s a few bloodstains in the sheets, dried to the color of rust. She bites her lip on a smile before she turns and lets out a scream when she sees Sukuna seated on a stool, still as statuary, and watching her intently.

     She presses a hand to her chest in a gesture to calm her hammering heart and steady her breathing.

     “How long have you been up?” She asks, her voice coming out split and reedy, hoarse. Her throat aches, and she looks at the teapot, the steam curling from the spout, the jar of honey. It’s been so long since she’s had honey. Without thinking, she pours herself a cup, adding the honey and stirring. Then, she drinks it down, soothing her throat. There’s a bitterness to the concoction but her thirst makes for a sharp contrast. She knows what kind of tea this is.

     “Long enough to know that you snore,” Sukuna says dryly and she makes an affronted sound, but there’s mirth dancing in her eyes as she crawls from the bed, testing her strength as she stands. Then, she comes to him. Sukuna moves like poetry, his thighs spreading, all four arms moving to allow her to step close, before his lower arms close around her, squeezing her thighs and rubbing her tenderly. Her hands come up, cupping his face, stroking the bone plate with a tenderness that aches, her eyes studying his, seeking to know him even more than he’s allowed up until now.

     He tilts his head and she presses her face closer to his, brushing his lips with hers. Sukuna, ever-ravenous, does not allow her to stop there, and his mouth claims hers as they kiss, and this time there is no starvation in it; no desperation. Only the tender aftermath of everything that wasn’t said the previous evening.

     “Thank you for last night,” she whispers against his lips. “I hope I pleased you as much as you pleased me, my lord.”

     Sukuna’s hands are all over her.

     “More than, mayoi-hana,” he murmurs, nipping her lower lip and making her smile. “You’ve an appetite that could rival my own, I think.”

     Asiri laughs. “High praise indeed, from the King of Curses himself,” she says and laughs when a mouth spawns on one of his hands to nip at the curve of her ass. She swats him gently on the shoulder.

     “Come,” he says, and for a moment they both freeze, remembering the activities of the previous night. Asiri’s cheeks flush dark with heat and she looks away, suddenly shy at remembering all the things she willingly did and let be done to her body. Sukuna simply picks her up, carrying her outside.

     To the hot spring.

     They soak for some time, and Asiri admits that she needs this. Her body melts with relief and unlike before, when fear an uncertainty made her shy, she curls against Sukuna’s body, an arm around her waist, a hand on her thigh. She feels her eyes get heavy and she rests her head on his chest. It only takes a second, but Sukuna knows she’s fallen asleep again, her body weary from the hard usage he knows she’ll come to crave in time.

     He lets her sleep while he leans his head back, staring at the rain-washed blue sky. Colors seem brighter, even the birdsong seems hopeful. He looks down at the sleeping girl curled into him and tries to imagine life before her. He can’t seem to recall, but he imagines it was rather dull.

     He strokes her body, listens to her murmuring, and she yawns but does not try to move. Sukuna chuckles.

     “Hopeless,” he mutters, but there’s no heat or bite in his words or tone. Only an amused affection he did not know himself capable of, only the fruits of interest rather than whim.

     Do you dream of me, mayoi-hana?

Sukuna lets himself guiltily hope for once in his life. Hope that she does dream of him, and that all of those dreams are pleasant. Hopes that those dreams lead her to the answer she seeks, the one he needs to hear.

     Stay.

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[angelltheninth]

Those Who Meet in the Shadows

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, hate sex, rough sex, degradation, secret relationship, name calling-pussy slapping, dub-con, implied voyeurism

Word count: 0.7k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Just Jason Todd being an asshole. I like that version of him.

Jason smirked at you, his armor leaving indents on your thighs as they were spread out for him. "Wipe that smirk of you face already, its disturbing." You push your hand against him, of which he bites the fingers off one by one as the table under you shakes from the force of his deep, hard thrusts. "Fuck! Are you trying to break the table?"

"No, just you." He pushes closer, his hands on your hips, encouraging you to roll your hips with him. You try not to, you try not to give him the satisfaction of it, but can't resist him, "What would Bruce say if he knew his new friend was spreading her legs for me? Bet he'd be really angry with you. Yeah, I'm thinking... a little spanking for the naughty girl."

"Bruce wouldn't- ah, fuck, oh!" You grabbed onto the edge of the table, your cowl fully slipping, your face revealed, eyes widening. "D-Don't look at me you motherfucker, this is just-" He slapped your pussy again before pressing his fingers against your clit.

Your hips rose from the table to meet his thrusts, the echoing sounds filling the storage house. The weapons you used lay aside, the condom wrapper glistening in the dim light. At least he remembered that not wanting a repeat of you denying him like last time.

Last time. "We should stop doing this Jason. It' wrong." You were a hero, and him... something much darker, not a villain not yet but he was so close to that title.

"Yeah its real fucked up how easy you are. Letting me fuck you, coming all the time, screaming my name. But you have been distracting me more then usual. Maybe you should let every villain in this city fuck you, see if you can set them on the correct path. Then again, I am a very possessive man, I would kill any guy who wants this sweet hole. Its mine." Jason took your hands in one of his and pinned them down, "Keep them there, don't you dare move."

For some reason you listened. It was so shameful to obey him but had Jason's big, hard cock pumping in and out, making your body react.

"She obeys!" Jason boasted laugning.

"Fuck you." You still had the strength to flip him the bird.

"Aw that's adorable, is that the finger you use when you think of me?" You did. More then one finger because one wasn't nearly enough. "Bet you love having the real thing huh? Finally a man who knows what to do with a whore cunt like yours." He curled his finger over your clit, sending your back arching. "You think he's listening right now?"

No, the comms were off, you made sure of that. "N-No. He can't be."

"Then why is your pussy trembling so much? You want him to hear? Didn't know you let cockhungry sluts in your ranks these days Bruce. Must be real desperate. Poor little thing probably didn't even know how much of a slut she was." He spoke with an almost maniacal edge to his voice, his cock twitching inside you.

"S-Stop it. Its not true." You whimpered, getting all teary eyed.

"Yes. It. Is." He accompanied every word with a slap on your pussy, each sting making your head spin until a high pitched moan left your mouth, "Hear that Bruce?! That's your partner being my little whore!"

"I- I hate you." You managed to still bite back but your body didn't agree with your actions, and honestly you weren't sure your heart did either but that was easier to ignore when you were being pounded by Jason's cock. "I hate you, I hate you, I fucking hate you!" Jason was only spurred on by your words, fucking every inch of his fat cock into you until he felt your walls tighten. Despite your best efforts not to your body reacted to his, stars dancing behind your eyes, head spinning, only able to feel his cock still working between your legs and his fingers on your clit. "St-ah-op."

"But babygirl," Jason pulled out and took the condom off, letting the cum gather on the floor, "We still have the whole box of these to go through."

[syrenqinche]

THE GOLDEN FOUNTAIN HEADCANONS ~ Caleb

content: smut|mdni, expanding on the golden shower kink, piss play, possessive colonel! caleb, f!MC, degradation, nasty af!

a/n: this is nasty guys, read at your own risk.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

✧.* So, the farspace fleet colonel is a very well reputed man, respected and looked up to by the masses. He is infamous for having no flaws and being the epitome of human perfection with his bravery, warm charisma and leadership. There is one sinister side to him though that the outsiders don't know about, and that is his nasty habit of relieving stress or anger by drenching you in his piss.

✧.* It started off as a one time thing, initially. It was after a particularly hard day at work where him and his squadron missed out retrieving some crucial intel. While he was already irritated, you were being difficult too, gossiping to him about a weird locker room conversation you had at work.

"The guys, they were joking about pissing on the weapons to mark them as their to use exclusively, like dogs. It was nasty. Caleb, are you listening?"

✧.* Caleb had had enough and stood up from the bed, pulling you towards the bathroom. He made you kneel inside the ceramic tub and stated only once, very clearly. "I'm beyond pissed off today, honey." He held you by the chin, unzipping his dress pants and popping the button with his other hand, removing his girthy shaft from under his boxers.

"Do you want me to suck you off?" you ask. You would, gladly.

"No, I want to just-" he purses his lips as a tiny trickle of fluid escapes from the tip of his dick and lands on your thighs. It leaves you stunned for a good minute as you piece together what Caleb really wants to do.

✧.* You nod at him after making up your mind and Caleb knits his brows together. "Stop me if- oh, god-" He lets go and a thick stream of yellow liquid bursts out of his dick, landing on your chest and soaking your shirt and pants. The pressure of the plentiful stream on your body does something to you - like a new sensation you never pictured before. You grab his cock to redirect some of it onto your face too, surprising Caleb. So, when you tell him you should incorporate this new-found kink into your daily lives, Caleb is more than happy.

✧.* Caleb now makes it a point to do it nearly every other day. It's become his go-to method to rid himself of negative emotions and to also make you hornier than ever. You once tried to take it all in your mouth, and once you made him aim the stream right inside your pussy. He'd happily oblige, discovering new ways to play with you using his golden piss.

"Since you love my piss so much, pip. You'll take it all like a good girl, yeah?"

"Need it all, Caleb. Give me all of it. Need to drink nghh."

✧.* You even graduated to pissing on him too. You'd lay on top of him, in a position similar to 69 and the two of would go simultaneously. Caleb would gasp for air as you emptied yourself on him, and you'd get your face drenched by the fountain coming out of his dick. When he couldn't pee anymore, you'd start sucking him off, hoping to somehow get more out of him.

✧.* The two of you would play this game where you'd see who could go longer without pissing. The loser gets to watch the other person pee on themselves and play with themselves without getting to touch any of it, no access to the piss, nuh-uh. Caleb is determined, he'd usually win this game.

✧.* After care involved a thorough shower session that would also invite steamy sex in the cubicle, but the two of you made sure your house never reeked of piss. After all, oftentimes, you'd host Caleb's squad or your colleagues over at your house. Little did they know the two of you were just holding your piss in, to shower it on the other later that night. <3

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

[rekino2114]

Hi! I was hoping to put in a request for Eva, Diana, and Grace (P:EG) for jealously hcs? And how they get jealous and deal with jealously with a gn!reader?

How Eva, Diana, and Grace deal with jealousy

Eva tsunaka

Eva doesn't get jealous often. She trusts you won't leave her for some random girl and so she doesn't really do anything when she sees a girl she doesn't know is talking with you

Even when she's flirting with you she still won't do anything drastic, just maybe glare at her a bit

She kinda loves hearing you call her your girlfriend, so she lets you handle the situation most of the times

But if the girl doesn't leave even after you told her you had a girlfriend then that's when she'll step in and hold your hand telling the girl to not bother yo again

Even if she does really trust you, she's kinda insecure about your relationship, so you always reassure her that you'll never leave her after something like this happens which never fails to make her smile

"Y/n's taken, don't bother them again"

".....thanks for the save eva"

"It's nothing, that girl was just plain disrespectful"

"Yeah I know, did she serious think I'd leave someone as amazing as you for her?"

"Eh......yeah, you're right......thanks"

"No problem, I'm always here to tell you how much of a great girlfriend you are"

Diana venicia

This cinnamon roll of a girl does not have a jealous bone in her body, she lovess you too much to even think about the possibility that you could leave her

Whenever she sees you talking to anyone, she just smiles, happy to see that you're talking with one of your friends (even if she didn't know the girl she just assumed she was one of her friends) and joins the conversation while beaming and holding your hand

But when she notices how uncomfortable you look and starts to hear the conversation, which consists of the girl making unwanted remarks about you, then she gets mad (as mad as she can get)

She instantly tells the girl to stop as she is making you uncomfortable and if she doesn't then you two just leave

She's not jealous, just mad at the girl

"Hey, can't you see how uncomfortable you're making them, stop it that's not nice"

"Uncomfortable? I think they're just shy"

[Diana pouts and holds your hand while walking away]

"Sorry if I didn't do anything diana"

"Don't worry baby, I could tell how uneasy you were, she was really mean"

"Yeah"

"Buuuuut I think I know exactly what you need to feel better after that experience"

".....cuddles and kisses?"

"Bingo! You read my mind"

Grace madison

Grace will never admit being jealous, but she's actually very possessive of you. She doesn't want anyone she thinks might be interested in you to get close to you.

Even with how mad she is, she still just glares at the girl when she sees her approaching, but when she actually starts flirting, then she's really pissed off

She calls her a soybean and insults her to her face, telling her that you'd never choose someone like her and then leaves expecting you to follow her

If the girl starts touching you without your consent she genuinely might start beating her up

If later you tease her about how jealous she was she'll tell you to shut up while blushing

"Oi! Soybean, what do you think you're doing? Are you deaf? They told you they had a girlfriend or you're probably just an asshole"

[Grace leaves and you follow her]

"Thanks by the way"

"Why are thanking me? That girl was acting like a bitch with you what was I supposed to do?"

"are you sure you weren't jealous~?"

"N-no, you seriously think I get jealous over some random soybean hitting on you?"

"Then why are you all red?"

"J-just shut up!"

[sugar-grigri]

Do you think we’ll at least see Asa’s perspective or thoughts on what Yoru has done to Denji? Especially with Yoru’s last statement in chapter 192? It just feels to jarring to see Yoru without any interference or anger from Asa. I’m sure that Asa likes Denji, but I don’t think she would want to pursue Denji like that. I think that logically Asa would want to scare Denji away. Isn’t Yoru’s deal finished? Yoru said she wanted to beat Chainsawman, she technically DID, so by logic Asa should get her body back, no?

I!!!!!! Don’t!!!!!! KNOW!!!!!!!!!!! 😢😢

I've got one side optimistic and the other very pessimistic on this point.

By the way, my recent theory on Asa may be disillusionment, as I refuse to accept what Fujimoto has done with his character.

So here are two answers:

If I'm being pessimistic, even though I'm hoping for more of Asa's POV, I don't think we'll get it.

Fujimoto had a very weird writing style, after the chapter where Yoru masturbates Denji (it's very crude said like that but hey), Asa's only reaction is to be afraid that Denji thinks she's an easy girl

And I admit I was like: HUH ????

What kind of reaction is this?

Either 1) Fujimoto is very based, and shows that Asa whether by her possession by Yoru - her age is unaware of her aggression. That she is once again more focused on her image than on protecting herself.

2) Either Fujimoto considers that he hasn't written an assault scene. I hope this isn't the case, otherwise a lot of CSM's narratives would fall apart, but I think we can get this impression precisely from Asa's lack of reaction/anger/disgust at everything Yoru has done.

Honestly, it all depends on the next chapters, so I can't say for sure.

If I'm being optimistic, maybe we'll get that reaction, but it doesn't really resemble Fujimoto's writing style, which likes scenes to stand on their own.

On the other hand, Asa's future development and actions can deepen his feelings and help us understand her point of view.

The absence of Asa is so glaring that I'm surprised it's a flaw in CSM and not something the reader focuses on.

As for your last two questions, I have to admit that we're in total limbo.

For me, Asa probably doesn't want to haggle over her first time for obvious reasons, but if we're very pessimistic, we could say that she shares Yoru's feelings on this point.

But if I'm being optimistic, I have a more precise reading Yoru wants to sleep with Denji IF he accomplishes her new objective, and since Asa doesn't share this objective, mathematically, she doesn't want to sleep with Denji like that.

As for Yoru's aim of defeating CSM, technically she didn't, and I have to admit that the previous arc is completely muddled on this subject: to the point where I didn't even understand why Yoru was fighting him any more.

In any case, she couldn't completely annihilate him because the devil of aging intervened.

But it's messy again, for example how do we explain that Yoru now has the goal of going after his big sister? The devil of death?

The only explanation is: the law of the strongest

Yoru has gained the upper hand over CSM, and his feelings for him, as well as his superiority in terms of power, allow him to consider turning him into a weapon.

He's a potential weapon, not an enemy

Yoru is the war devil, she needs opposition and fighting, so her next enemy is the death devil.

And when you think about it, I think that's exactly how Fami thought, which is why she insisted that Yoru had to beat the black CSM

1) for Yoru to change her objective on her own (no need to manipulate her)

2) Fami had prepared the ground with the fire demon to give her the means to have this power.

In short, nothing but grey areas! Let's hope Fujimoto doesn't go down a disappointing road!

[nemjoonsart]

JUNGKOOK for CALVIN KLEIN 🌸

[torgawl]

this week's episode was pretty set on confirming a few of our suspections were true like tianchen impersonating his sister and cheng xiaoshi being in lu guang's body at the end of the last episode. to me the thing i'm most curious about is tianchen's ability. is he actually red eyes? red eyes from last season could use their ability though photos but the tianchen we personally know controlls people through touch. having the ability to control multiple people (or two, specifically) simultaneously, which is something quite interesting. unless he can use his technique in two different ways, which we haven't seen any ability user do so far, this feels really odd and i'm starting to think the siblings having red eyes was simply a detail to throw us off?! maybe this doesn't make sense but you know how cxs has brown eyes but his eyes change colour while using his ability? why wouldn't tianchen's eyes change colour if he was the one possessing other people's bodies? and the way his eyes glow in the final scene with lu-guang... is that to show he's evil or is that a sign he's using his ability? but then how? because he was just talking to lu guang in his own body and lu guang wasn't under his influence, right? i'm very confused about him and his relationship with qian jin

[luvcaleb]

YOU'RE MINE.

nsfw (18+). includes aphrodisiacs, dry humping, rubbing cock over panties, possessive!caleb, caleb is gentle at first until you piss him off, this is basically ‘testing caleb's patience: the fic’, unprotected sex, creampie, i have to mention that caleb is possessive twice because caleb says some freaky stuff, sappy confession during sex, happy (horny) ending <3 likes and reblogs will be very helpful !!

Caleb doesn't accept love letters and chocolates whenever Valentine's Day comes along. However, girls directly stuff them into his bag without his knowledge sometimes, and you take it upon yourself to eat the sweets because Caleb would just throw it straight to the trash otherwise.

“It's a waste,” you'd always say. “You might not like them back, but they still made the effort to make chocolate for you.”

And then Caleb would shake his head, frowning, “Though most of them mean well, sometimes they put weird stuff in the food. So if I were you, I'd spit out that cupcake, pipsqueak.”

You usually don't heed his warnings—Caleb's always been kind of an overthinker. Now, though, you regret not listening to him as an unfamiliar heat spreads across your body, your core throbbing as you feel yourself dripping in your panties.

...The panties that's rubbing against Caleb's crotch right now, soaking the fabric of his pants while you grind down on him. Caleb's expression looks like a mix of confusion, worry, and arousal, his hands hovering above your waist as if unsure where to touch you. “Nn— hey, what's gotten into you? Do you even know what you're doing right now?”

You see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he nervously swallows, and you start feeling something poking you at your clothed core. Caleb sits up on the sofa where you pushed him down a while ago, grabbing your hands on his shoulders. “C'mon, tell me. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong.”

You whimper, your body collapsing on top of his. He quickly scoops you up, one hand holding the back of your head, the other resting on your lower back, ensuring you're properly seated on his thighs.

“I... I feel weird,” you pant, clutching the front of his shirt. “I'm dizzy, and my body is hot all over. My...” you swallow down your embarrassment, “my pussy feels empty... Caleb, can't you help me? Please?”

Almost imperceptibly, his grip on you tightens by a fraction. He sighs, angling your head to make you look at him in the eye. Perhaps it's the trick of the light, but Caleb's face is a flustered pink. “I can't do that. You're going to regret it when you turn back to normal and get all weird about it.” He glances at the chocolates you ate on the table, brows furrowed. “Aphrodisiac chocolate... I should've known. Then you wouldn't have become like this...”

Your mind is in a daze. Your body feels unusually heavy, but your head feels like it's floating. Most of what he said is lost on you, and at this moment, the only thing you can focus on is that Caleb is looking at something else. You grab both of his cheeks, forcibly turning his attention to you. “Please help me, Caleb...” Clumsily, you lift up your hips, pressing your cunt against the tent in his pants. It glistens with your wetness, and Caleb can't help but groan when you rub the tip with your thumb. “It hurts... I need this inside me...”

Caleb has always adhered to your whims, but even he has his limits. He pinches your cheek, “I can't put it inside, idiot, I don't have a condom. I just have to make you cum, right?” He gestures for you to pick up the hem of your skirt, sucking in a breath when he sees how soaked you are. “Fuck....”

The entire crotch area is damp, and if he looks carefully, he can even see the faint shape of your clit. Curiously, he draws circles on it, breathing heavily when a fresh glob of slick stains your underwear. “That's hot...”

He pulls down his zipper, releasing his cock from his boxers. You gasp softly at the sight. He's long and thick, arching to a beautiful curve, colored almost red from the strain of holding back. He gives himself a few experimental pumps, moans coming from his mouth as he masturbates at the sight of you, holding up your own skirt to give him a perfect view of your wet panties, an innocent, frilly pair he can't wait to ruin.

He positions his cock to your folds, aiming at the spot your hole should be if not covered by your underwear. You both groan at the first slide, his pre-cum further soaking the fabric of your ruined panties. He wraps himself in his fist, teasing your clit as he pumps into his hand. More pearls of white spurt out of his tip. “Ah, fuck, that's good... so good...”

“Ah, ah, Caleb!”

You move your hips, moaning while he rubs himself against your cunt. The warmth of his cock is driving you crazy, and the added friction of Caleb rubbing your nipple through your clothes makes you even wetter than you already are. He's biting his lip, dazed eyes staring at your body appreciatively. “I'm taking this off, baby.”

He impatiently runs his hand through the buttons of your clothes, some of them popping off to clatter on the floor. “H-hey, I liked this shirt— haa...!”

“I'll buy you a new one,” he grunts, mouthing at one of your tits, sucking as if anything would come out. He unclasps your bra one-handed, throwing it over your shoulder. “These things are fucking annoying...”

Finally, he gets tired of rubbing you over your clothes. He lifts the side of your panties, sliding his cock inside to directly grind against your pussy. “Shit, that's more like it,” he moans loudly, your wetness gliding down his balls. “You feel so good.”

“Caleb, put it inside already,” you whine, scrunching up the fabric of your skirt in your fists. “This isn't enough for you either, hnn, right...? Give me your cock, please...”

Caleb grits his teeth, holding your hips to stop you from dropping on his dick. “Didn't I tell you I don't have a condom?”

“I don't care!” you struggle in his hold. “Fuck me, c'mon... it hurts...! If you don't...”

You pant against his ear, knowing exactly what you're getting into, drugged or not, “...I'll ask Zayne to fuck me instead.”

The effect is instantaneous. He pulls out, replacing his cock with two fingers plunging inside you at once, hitting deep all the way inside. You choke, gasping out for breath as his hand doesn't stop, slick jetting out of your cunt with every push of his fingers. His clothes are getting soaked, but Caleb doesn't care about them at all, coldly glaring at your face twisted in pleasure.

“So you're telling me you'd be fine with just anyone?” He's chuckling, but he doesn't sound like he's happy. “Fuck. I should've just done this from the start, then.”

He grabs two of the chocolates, popping one in his mouth. When he finishes swallowing, he places the other one in his mouth again, but then he suddenly grabs your jaw. “Open your mouth, slut.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, mouths locking together. The chocolate melts from the heat, his tongue licking at yours as he's forcing you to swallow. He doesn't let you go until he's sure you've eaten all of it, drool dripping from the corner of your lips.

“We're not stopping until you learn I'm the only one who gets to see you like this,” he grunts, taking out his fingers and slathering your slick on his cock to make it wet. “I'm the only one who gets to call you mine.”

“Haa... haa...”

Clothes are strewn messily on Caleb's bedroom floor, the mattress squeaking with each thrust of his hips. You're on your back, one leg hooked over Caleb's shoulder, staring into space as you're fucked absolutely stupid.

“Fuck, I can't stop my hips....” Caleb's still fucking into you, hasn't stopped for the past hour. The effects of the aphrodisiac have probably passed after the first two rounds, but his cock shows no signs of softening after release. He cums another load into you, overflowing from your pussy to spread into his sheets. “Ah, hng, shit... Hey, I told you not to waste it.”

He pulls out, pressing his fingers inside your loose hole to fuck his cum back in. You make a sound of protest, already feeling full.

“Are you starting to regret what you said now?” He grabs the back of your thighs, pressing your legs next to your ears. “Too late for that, though.”

Caleb groans, sloshing his cum inside your cunt with his dick. You helplessly grab at the sheets, moaning brokenly. His pelvis rubs against your engorged clit on every snap of his hips, driving you to squirt on his abs again, his torso glistening with your mess.

“You're squirting again? How many times have you cum?” Caleb laughs meanly, sucking another possessive mark among the smattering of hickeys he's already left along your collarbones. “Nasty girl...”

He leans back, getting a better view of your body. There are traces of him everywhere, from the hickeys on your neck, his cum on your chest because you couldn't swallow everything he poured in your mouth, and the faint bite marks on your inner thighs when he paid the favor and ate you out.

He presses a kiss on your chest, staring at you with dark eyes. “If you didn't say that, I would've been patient with you. Fingered you loose before putting my cock inside, making sure you're comfortable... I would've helped you ride out the effects of the aphrodisiac and never speak of it again. After all, to you, I'm just family.” He nuzzles against your cheek, his voice taking on a darker tone. “But you just had to call out another guy's name, didn't you... Would've fucked him if it was him here, not me...”

Caleb thrusts back inside you roughly, fucking your cervix. “You can't do that, you know? You've always belonged to me. Every part of you is mine, so no one else can touch you.” He cups your cheek, devouring your cries of pleasure with his mouth. “Just me... it's only me, right? I'm the person most important to you, right? You said so... So why are you bringing up another guy?”

He's asking questions, but he doesn't let you answer any of them, kissing you so much you almost can't breathe.

“Even though I'm in front of you...” Kiss. “Even when I'm the only one who loves you this much...” Kiss, kiss. “You're still thinking of another person...” Kiss, kiss, kiss. “That's hardly fair when you're all I think about everyday.” Another sloppy kiss.

You weakly push his chest, breaking away from the kiss. “Wait, Caleb—”

He pins your wrist to the bed. “I'm not stopping.”

“I'm not telling you to stop, I'm telling you to liste— ahh, haa, hnn!” The cock still ramming up your walls makes it much more difficult to speak, hammering against the sweet spot that makes your toes curl. “Fuck, ah— Caleb, listen to me!”

He hums as he sucks another hickey on your skin. “I am.”

You don't have it in you to argue even when he clearly isn't, trembling at the pleasure. The hand holding your wrist travels upwards to intertwine your fingers together, grounding you back to reality.

“Caleb, I was just— I didn't mean what I said...” you stammer, trying your best to speak without getting distracted. “I, mmh....! W-wouldn't do this with anyone else... haa... I just said that so you'd fuck me— ah, ah!”

He scoffs, slowing his pace when he sees you being overwhelmed. “You're just making excuses to get me to stop.”

“I'm not, you dummy! I...” your brows pinch together, embarrassed to say it but you continue anyway, “Caleb, you're the one I think of when I touch myself... nn... And I know it's wrong, and you only think of me as someone you should take care of, but, I, haah, I like it when you kiss me, or when you hug me, and I— gh! I like it when you fuck me hard, too, just like this...”

You move your hand to cup Caleb's jaw, admiring his awestruck expression. He looks at you like he's seeing you for the first time.

“I'm not telling you to stop,” you repeat yourself firmly. “I just wanted to say I didn't mean that thing I said earlier, and if it's you, you can do whatever you want to me. Because I love you just like how you love me, Caleb.”

His hips come to a complete stop. “Say that again.”

“I love you, Caleb.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“Okay, you're really pushing it, it's embarrassing to sa— aah!”

He grabs your hip, pulling you back to his cock. He fucks you frantically, harsh groans leaving his lips, your name like a prayer. “Fuck... you love me? You love... me?” The words seem unfamiliar on his tongue, heartbreakingly quiet. You squeeze your connected hands.

“I love you, Caleb. I really, really love you, I've loved you a long time ago...” you tilt his chin, making him meet your gaze. “Now say it back.”

“I love you,” he says with certainty, as if it's a fact of the universe. “I love you so much.” He buries his head into your neck, sucking new marks. “I love you... fuck... I love you so badly, it hurts...”

His cock drives deeper, the wet slaps of skin deafening in the room. Cum dribbles out of your hole with his thrusts, and he swipes it up to smear it on your engorged clit. Rub, rub. Rub, rub.

“Shit, Caleb!” You wail, rutting to his finger. “Everything feels so good, ah, ah!”

“You feel so good, too, aw, fuuuck...” he's melting inside you, your warm walls clenching around him so tight, sucking him back in every time he pulls out. “Your pussy keeps sucking me back in...!” 

“Ah, hnahh, ngh, yes, like that, ah! I'm cumming, cumming!”

His balls draw tight, his cock about to burst. “Fuck, shit!” he fucks in, in, in, until he's filled every space in your cunt, thumb frantically rubbing at your clit. Clear liquid soaks his cock, wetting his pelvis, and he follows you in your release, shooting ropes of milky cum deep inside your pussy. “Fuck, ah, take my cock, take my fucking cum all the way in, ohh— take it deep in your womb—”

He keeps cumming, and cumming, and cumming. “It won't stop,” he moans against your ear, watching your hole overflowing with his semen. “Your pussy feels too good, it's sucking me dry...”

“Caleb, shit, how are you still— ohh, fuuck...” you whine as the last spurts of semen hit your torso, Caleb having pulled out and pumping his dick to cover you in his cum.

Finally emptied, Caleb collapses on the spot beside you, running a hand through his hair. “I need a shower,” he mutters, feeling the stickiness on his body.

“We need a shower,” you correct him. “I probably won't be able to walk for the next few days, all thanks to you, so you better take responsibility and carry me everywhere.”

Caleb laughs, light and airy, nothing like the dark tone he's been speaking in earlier. He pulls you to his chest, pressing chaste kisses all over your face. “Anything for the girl I love.”

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about a house. the house is sentient but not in a way i would typically recognize. it would view me as both a part of itself (similar to how an animal is a part of its ecosystem) and also something inherently lesser (like how an owner views its pet). i can't communicate with it in any meaningful way. i can't even tell when it's paying attention to me if it doesn't try to draw my attention. it can manipulate whatever is inside of itself except me, which would give me a sort of edge if it ever viewed me as a threat, but since it doesn't it sees it in more of a "awww look at your little claws" way.

[animamii]

"y'know," Toji grunts, fingers digging into the plush of your hips, "You shouldn't wanna be with a guy like me." His lidded eyes are focused on the way your body is arched, ass tutted out on display for him as his hands slide to grip the jiggly flesh.

"Mmm? And why not?" Your neck cranes, your voice silky and sweet and you purr out moan after moan.

"Cause you're my son's age, sweetheart," he bites his lip as he watches his dick slip in and out so smoothly, the way it shines with your slickness, "I could be your—hah— father."

"Why be my father when you could be my daddy?" You giggle, glossy lips curling up into a seductive smirk as you push back against him, emphasizing every deep thrust. His breath hitches, fingers tightening possessively on your waist.

"You're a dangerous little thing, aren't you?" Toji growls, voice thick with lust, his pace never faltering. "Makin' me wanna ruin you even more." With that he drills deeper, pushing every single inch of his manhood as deep as he can into you.

Your giggle melts into a breathless moan as he pulls you closer, his chest pressing against your back. "Then do it," you whisper, long lashes fluttering. "Make me yours, Daddy." Toji really doesn't know how a pretty little thing like you got into his bed, but by god he was grateful for it.

A deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest as he snaps his hips forward, sending waves of pleasure through your trembling body. "Fuck, sweetheart," he mutters. "You really don't know what you're askin' for."

"Oh, I think I do," your voice gets a little deeper, sultrier than your usual girlish tone. Fucking little minx, he thinks.

Toji lets out a deep chuckle, the sound rough and sinful as his fingers trail up your spine before gripping the back of your neck. "You're playin' a dangerous game, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice thick with amusement and something darker—something possessive. "But I gotta admit… I like watchin' you lose."

His hips roll forward, slow and deliberate, making you feel every inch of him dragging against your slick walls. The stretch, the heat—it’s too much and not enough all at once, and the way he holds you, like he owns you, only makes it worse.

You whimper, pushing back against him, needing more, needing him to stop teasing. "T-Toji…"

His grip on your neck tightens just enough to make your breath hitch. "What was that, baby?" he taunts, smirking as he leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Thought you liked actin' all grown up. Use your words."

Your body shudders, pleasure tingling down your spine. "Please," you gasp, barely coherent, "Please, Daddy—"

A sharp groan rips from his throat, and in a heartbeat, his restraint snaps. His fingers dig into your flesh as he drags you back onto his cock, setting a brutal pace that has your eyes rolling back. "Fuck—there’s my good girl," he grits out, jaw clenching as he watches your body take him so greedily. "Knew you’d beg for it eventually."

The filthy squelch of skin meeting skin fills the air, and Toji watches, mesmerized, as your body trembles beneath him. "So fuckin' pretty when you fall apart," he rasps, reaching down to press his rough fingers against your needy clit. "C’mon, sweetheart—lemme see you cum for Daddy."

[hellokittyish]

part one here.

★ thinking about mutual masturbation on facetime with ex!satoru which starts off with you just staring at him in some sort of daze, wondering what on earth possessed you to pick up the call in the first place. this is a mistake, you know that... so why aren't you hanging up already?

but before you can dwell too long on the answer to that question, your train of thought is rudely interrupted by a particularly loud moan echoing through the speaker.

“mmh… you actually didn’t decline for once," the white-haired menace gasps out, the slick sounds of his hand gliding up and down his cock only picking up in volume as he lays eyes on you. “shit— you don't know how much i've missed seein’ that pretty face of yours, baby.”

“you’re so shameless, satoru.” you mutter, lacing your tone with as much disdain as you can muster; but the way your own hand somehow snakes its way beneath the waistband of your sweatpants and into your panties tells an entirely different tale of how this whole situation is really making you feel.

“yeah,” he muses in an unapologetic hum, making a show of tilting the camera down to give you a better view of where he's currently thumbing his leaky, blushing tip. “but… ah— so are you, otherwise you would’ve blocked my new number the second i sent you that dick pic.”

“w-well how do you know i wasn't about to press the block button right when you called me and i accidentally clicked accept instead?” you shoot back through teeth which are clenched partly in annoyance and partly in an effort to hold back letting your own pleasure show on your face.

“nah, don’t give me that bullshit,” satoru snorts amusedly, leaning in closer to the screen and tilting his head to the side, snowy lashes fluttering seductively as his bright eyes stare knowingly into yours. “if you’re not enjoying this, then i want you to show me that your hands aren’t in your pants right now rubbing that pretty little pussy.”

shit. of course he'd be able to see through you that easily — he is your ex, after all. but no... you can’t let him win just yet. so, as subtly as possible, you pull your hand from your panties and hold it up to the phone screen, hoping against hope that the darkness of your room hides the wetness of your palm.

“hah. nice try, baby,” he drawls smugly, smiling so wide now that both of his annoyingly cute dimples are on full display; and it’s deliberate, too. he knows full well they were always your weakness. “...but i can see your sweet juices coating those cute fingers from here.”

and he knows he has you right where he wants you when you still don't hang up the call like you both know you should, instead just shoving your hand right back into your panties and rubbing messy circles over your clit while keeping direct eye-contact with him — trying to beat him at his own game, are you? oh, how he's missed you.

so he picks up the pace of his jostling fist around his cock, candy-pink lower lip caught between his pearly teeth as he tries to catch even a small glimpse of your bare skin through the screen; and god, only you could make him act this pathetic, this desperate. "fuck... please, pretty, y'gotta give me something to work with here. h-how about you pull your top up just a little for toru, hm?"

and you've already let this escalate too far to back out now, so you decide to throw caution to the wind and tug at the edge of your oversized tee just enough so that your bare tits spring free, courtesy to your preference for not wearing a bra around your apartment.

"o-oh, just look at those. i missed my girls s'much. bet you wish they were in my mouth right now, huh?" satoru rasps out, balls tightening to an almost painful degree as he reaches down to pay the heavy, neglected sacs some attention by gently fondling them.

and you, having finally caved and slid a finger into your fluttering hole, can only respond with a soft whine as you reach up to knead a breast with your free hand, the image of his skilled mouth suckling on them like he always used to making your much-too-empty cunt clench around your digit with need.

and that singular sweet, sweet sound from your lips that he's been deprived of hearing for months is all it takes for him to finally bust a load all over his chest and hand, goopy white streaks tainting his previously unmarred pale skin as his entire body trembles with a pleasure only you can give him.

and when he eventually manages to compose himself enough to glance back down at the facetime and realize that you're still trying to reach your own climax, your meek little fingers clearly not enough to finish the job, satoru has the absolute audacity to lean right in close to the screen and mutter out a cheeky…

“hey, if y'want me to come over and help you with that then all you gotta do is agree to get back together with me, baby.”

taglist: @haruhatake @sheismaryy @jxeon @bonneyzsk @yozora7154 @depositodeporradogojo @ifyournameischoisanpleaseloveme @anthy-j-ander @sugarcoatedsoul @moncher-ire @fwxyz00 @trishiepo0 @just-lilita @beenathembo @channnee @tul1ps1 @awoodsysimp411 @vera4luv @silllly-jokesterr @mastermasterlist1p1 @yourfaveava @rllyobsessedgirlie @cherrycel @tomiokas-lunchbox @iwaizumisloverrr @citruswriter @jasminelee324 @kocho-catt @azewritessillystuff @suggestmename @greentea-ellie @banksxxnik @feelingtoosilly @nepotti @nonamevenus @barking4dogs-fy @mihoonz @crazytrash @phoenixflames498 @starlightmid @k0z3me @cakenpiewhyohmy @wh1msycal @resfrio @ersharyzst @loveyislost @supernovacoffeestop @ying47

[lambilegs]

listen, lowkey, I feel like sevika would love interacting with a feisty!reader. like, I get why people headcanon her as preferring a partner who's more submissive or, like, lenient with her. but, I don't know, something tells me she'd relish in having a partner who gives her a hard time. someone who she can bicker and argue with back and forth, someone who doesn't just ride with her shit no matter what. she'd like having someone who actually challenges her, and questions her stances, opinions and strategies. someone who gets her to reflect on her actions and give them even more careful consideration than she already does on her own. someone who makes her think even harder.

and aside from a moral standpoint, she would just playfully love it too. something about you looking up at her with a glare whenever she messes around with you has her abdomen stirring with desire. she feels like a teenager again, vying after the attention of someone who is constantly tiring of her. but, she can't help it. she likes when you punch her arm after she makes a cheap shot at one of the guys she's gambling with at the last drop. when you scoff at something tough she says, and teasingly coo that she's just a big softie, dammit, she can't help but feel like one with the way your words are affecting her. when she jokingly wraps an arm around your shoulders, you shrug her off with an eye roll, and when she props her elbow on your head as though it's an armrest, you pretend to bite at her wrist, to which she laughs and wiggles the mechanical fingers, saying, "you sure you wanna do that?"

sometimes, she tries to flirt with you. she'll ask you to go on a walk with her, or sit with her in her corner of the bar when she does repairs on her arm. hey, who said romance is dead? there've been times where you smile, heave a sigh and drawl out, "well, since there's nothing else better to do," which usually incites her pulling out a chair for you and gruffly sitting on her own, getting to work. it's nice, really. you chatter away, she learns more about you, gets more intrigued, then you leave, and she feels just a bit more hollow. it's a vicious cycle. but, she can't resist going back to it, over and over again. especially when there are little moments where it feels like her feelings might be returned. like when she asks you to do one of the above, and you scoff and say, "why don't you ask one of the girls you saw at the brothel today?"

it surprises her the first time, to say the least. but, she grows to like it. a lot. the way you stiffen up next to her when another woman eyes her with desire, how you snap and glare at her when you hear from babette that sevika paid a visit the night before. it feels like you already have your claws sunk into her before she even got the chance to ask you out. and shit, does she really enjoy that. how possessive you are, how livid you get with her for showing attention to anyone who's not you.

she nearly likes it just as much when you direct that anger to someone else. an ex-friend you're steaming with rage over, a disrespectful enforcer, someone who gives sevika, or actually anyone else in the undercity, shit. the way your nostrils flare with the deep breaths you take, how sweat lines your brow, that motion when your eye twitches. she can't help but admire the intensity of what you feel, and how you have the courage to deliver it to someone who deserves it. whether they fuck with you, your people or the city. and on some occasions, with sevika.

[hellokittykookies]

cruel secrets - J.JK - one shot (M)

pairings : J.JK x fem! reader

sypnosis : "Marrying one of the twins, especially if they're identical, can be fun. but what if one starts pretending to be the other? especially murder involved, but what you don't know won't hurt you.. right?"

contents/warnings : murder, identity fraud/theft?, doctor! jk, twin! jk, cheating, blackmailing, murder during surgery?, heart problem, fake death, pregnancy, pls tell me if i missed some. nsfw: (big c! jk, clit spanking, choking, unprotected (wrap them hotdogs up) missionary, riding, oral, good girl like one time, )

genre : idk really know if it's yandere or not but this is more of like possessive, crazy, murder blah blah. smut and slight fluff... if you squint

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

You had been engaged for only a month, the happiest you had ever been. Two years with Jun-ho had been nothing but love, laughter, and promises of forever until the diagnosis shattered your world.

A heart tumor.

Jungkook, your everloving  brother-in-law, had been the first to offer help. A skilled cardiologist, he had sworn to do everything in his power.

"He'll need a donor, Y/N-ie," Jungkook murmured, his gaze heavy with something unreadable.

"W-We’ll find someone… right?" you asked, clinging to hope.

Jungkook gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, his voice smooth and confident. "Hopefully we will... I’ll do everything I can for you."

And he did.

The day of the surgery arrived faster than you had expected. A donor had miraculously been found, and relief had flooded your heart. You held onto that hope, unaware of the horrors unfolding behind the operating room doors.

No one knew.

No one outside the sterile walls of the OR knew that Jungkook was the lead surgeon.

No one knew that his hands, steady, practiced, merciless. weren't just saving a life.

They were stealing one.

His scalpel carved deep, removing what he needed with methodical precision. Jun-ho's body, once warm and alive, was now nothing more than a collection of organs. some to be sold, some to be discarded. But the most important piece, the heart, was his to take.

Jungkook had lied about everything.

The world would believe the story he orchestrated. The hospital was in his palm. paid silence, bribed hands. And when he stitched up his own chest, a fabricated scar in place, he emerged not as Jungkook, but as Jeon Jun-ho.

Your Jun-ho.

"Ms. L/N?"

The nurse’s voice snapped you out of your daze. You jumped to your feet, heart pounding.

"The surgery was successful."

Tears welled in your eyes, a sob of relief escaping your lips. "W-Where's Jungkook? I need to thank him-"

The nurse hesitated. A flicker of guilt flashed across her face before she forced herself to speak.

"The twin of Mr. Jeon... donated his heart to your fiancé."

Silence.

Your breath hitched. Your mind reeled, unable to process the words.

Jungkook… had given his heart to Jun-ho?

Your knees buckled as you collapsed onto a chair, pressing your hands to your face. Tears streamed down your cheeks. grief, gratitude, disbelief all crashing over you at once.

"Thank you, Jungkook…" you whispered into your palms, mourning the man you thought had sacrificed himself.

Meanwhile, the man you truly loved lay in a cold morgue drawer. And the monster wearing his name lay waiting in his place.

Waiting for you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

You sat on the stool beside the hospital bed, your fingers entwined with his, waiting for your fiancé to wake up. His chest rose and fell steadily, the only sign of life after the grueling surgery.

You leaned your head against his chest, feeling the warmth beneath your cheek, the place where his body had been cut open and stitched back together. Your breathing slowed, syncing with his.

Your exhaustion weighed you down, your eyes fluttering closed as you drifted into sleep.

But Jungkook was already awake.

His dark eyes watched you in the dim light, the corners of his lips curving into a satisfied smile.

He had won.

His fingers brushed through your hair, gentle, possessive.

He had taken everything.

And now, you were his.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Flashback

Jungkook sat in his office, fingers drumming idly against his desk, the dim glow of his phone screen illuminating his face.

A number flashed on the screen. He pressed dial.

"Hey, Dr. Kim… it’s been a while. Wanna meet up?"

The voice on the other end hesitated. "Jungkook… I don’t want to be involved again—"

*"Later. 2 PM. Café **. You better be there… unless you want your dear wife to know about the family you’ve been hiding overseas. Hm?"

Silence.

Jungkook smirked, twirling a pen between his fingers. "See you there, pal." He ended the call before Namjoon could protest.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Namjoon sat stiffly across from Jungkook, his fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of black coffee. Jungkook, ever composed, sipped his iced Americano, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"It’s been a while," Jungkook said, the casual tone in his voice a stark contrast to the heavy tension between them. "when's your wife due?"

Namjoon’s jaw clenched. "Just spill what you want, Jungkook."

Jungkook chuckled, setting his cup down. "I want you to diagnose someone."

Namjoon frowned. "You know I can’t do that. I’ll lose my license-"

Jungkook cut him off smoothly, pulling an envelope from his jacket and sliding it across the table. "Not if you have connections. I’ll help you. Maybe even get you a higher pay?"

Namjoon hesitated before opening the envelope.

His blood ran cold.

Inside were photos, documents, evidence. Proof of the secret family he had in the States while he was working abroad 3 years ago.

Jungkook tilted his head, watching Namjoon’s expression shift from shock to despair.

"Jungkook… I can’t do this to your brother. He’s my best friend-"

"Easy, isn’t it?" Jungkook leaned in, voice a whisper of venom. "I want his diagnosis by next month… or else."

He tapped the envelope lightly, smirking.

"Your poor, pregnant wife will know exactly what you did."

Namjoon swallowed hard, his hands trembling around the cup.

Jungkook leaned back, satisfied. He had already won.

And now, all that was left was to take what was rightfully his.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Jungkook wasn’t the only one hiding something.

You had your own sins buried deep.

The night of your engagement. the night after jun-ho proposed to you should have been the happiest moment of your life. But instead, you had spent it elsewhere. In another man’s bed.

In his twins bed.

Drunk. Breathless. Completely fucked out... and getting fucked

"A-Ah, Jungkook- shit-" you whimpered, your nails digging into his arms as he pounded into you, his grip on your waist tight enough to bruise.

"Hm? You like this, don’t you?" Jungkook scoffed, his voice laced with dark amusement. "Getting fucked by your boyfriend’s twin?"

A sharp slap landed on your cheek, the sting only making your moans sharper, your body shivering beneath him.

"Answer me, baby."

You should have said no. You should have resisted.

But it was easier to say the opposite.

"Y-Yes," you admitted weakly.

Jungkook smirked, his thrusts turning brutal. "Louder. Jungkook can’t hear you."

"Y-Yes!!" you screamed, the pleasure clouding any remnants of guilt as your climax built up.

"Gonna- gonna cum-" you choked out, only for his hand to wrap around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch.

"Wait for me. Don’t cum yet. hold it baby," His free hand came down between your legs, slapping your clit, forcing a sharp cry of his name from your lips.

"Go on, baby, cum now while I fill you up." His voice was low, guttural, possessive. "Cum for me. Cum for your Jungkookie."

And you did.

You shouldn’t have. But you did.

It wasn’t an accident. You wanted it. And so did he.

It wasn’t your fault Jun-ho could never satisfy you the way his twin did.

And it didn’t stop that night.

It went on for a month. lust filled nights tangled in sheets that didn’t belong to you, stolen moments, whispered lies. until you finally broke things off.

Until you found out something that changed everything.

You were pregnant.

At first, you thought it was Jun-ho’s. You had been so sure. you had been taking your birth control, after all.

But when you rechecked the pills…

They weren’t real.

Your doctor confirmed it. placebos.

A horrifying realization struck you. Jun-ho hadn’t been the one who tampered with them. Only one man had been inside you for weeks.

Jungkook.

It had been him all along.

You had thought about taking a paternity test, but what was the point? They were identical twins. No one would ever suspect. The baby would look like them anyway.

So you decided.

You would never tell Jun-ho the truth.

The rhythmic sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear was steady, comforting.

You had fallen asleep against his chest, exhaustion taking over.

You stirred awake at the soft sensation of fingers running through your hair.

Your eyes fluttered open.

"Jun-ho? Baby, are you awake?" you gasped, quickly sitting up. Happiness flooded through you at the thought of seeing him again, alive and well.

Jungkook- no, Jun-ho smiled at you, his dark eyes unreadable.

"Jung- Jun-ho..." You hesitated, his name foreign on your tongue.

The thought of Jungkook. dead, gone forever. flashed in your mind.

A part of you mourned him.

A part of you secretly wished it wasn’t him who had died.

But you couldn’t betray your fiancé any more than you already had.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to smile as you reached for his hand.

"I... I’m pregnant."

Hope filled your voice, unaware of the true horror behind your words.

Jungkook’s expression didn’t falter. His grip tightened around your fingers as he pulled you into his arms.

"I’m going to be a father?" he asked, his voice laced with excitement, his hands cradling your waist protectively.

You nodded against his chest, oblivious.

Oblivious to the fact that he already knew.

Jungkook had always known.

He had been watching you. Controlling you. Manipulating every step.

Even your doctor hadn’t been yours.

He had chosen the best OB-GYN, paid to ensure he was the one overseeing your pregnancy.

And you had no idea.

Because from the very beginning, long before Jun-ho was ever taken from this world

Jungkook had already made sure you belonged to him. 

-----

It had been three weeks since your fiancé was discharged from the hospital.

And today was the funeral of the man you had secretly loved behind his back.

The weight of grief sat heavy on your chest as you stood in front of the urn, your fingers trembling. But you had no idea. no clue at all that the ashes inside that urn belonged to your real fiancé.

And that the man sitting beside you, holding your hand, smirking ever so subtly, was the one who had orchestrated it all.

Jungkook gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm sure he'll miss you as much as you miss him, sweetpie."

Sweetpie.

Your breath hitched.

That was his nickname for you. Jungkook’s.

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

So you said nothing. Because this was a secret you would have to keep.

Forever.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The bedroom was silent.

You lay beside your fiancé, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"Are you still upset?" his voice was soft, cautious.

You swallowed thickly. "I… Jungkook was really nice. I can't thank him enough..."

I can't love him enough.

Silence stretched between you both, thick with tension.

Jungkook- no, Jun-ho turned to look at you. "Can I take care of you this time?"

You nodded wordlessly, letting him pull you beneath him, his lips trailing down your body.

But the moment his tongue met your heat.

something felt wrong.

Too familiar.

His movements, his technique, it was too good. Too practiced. It felt just like him.

Your breath hitched.

"W-Wanna ride you…" you muttered, desperate for control, for a distraction.

He flipped you over with ease, his hands gripping your waist as you lowered yourself onto him.

"Oh- hmpf- " you whimpered, trying to suppress the moans threatening to spill from your lips.

But you couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Ah! Jungkookie!!"

The name ripped from your throat before you could stop it.

His hands found your breasts, squeezing possessively. "Good girl."

Your head spun.

This wasn’t Jun-ho. It never had been.

"G-Gonna cum, baby…" he groaned, his grip tightening.

"C-Cum in me… please!" you cried, desperate, needy, ruined.

One last moan of his name left your lips as pleasure tore through you both.

And as you collapsed against his chest, the truth settled like a stone in your stomach.

You sobbed into his skin, his hands running soothingly along your back, his softened length still inside you.

"I'm sorry…" you breathed out.

Jungkook smiled. "I forgive you."

And in that moment, you knew.

You knew it wasn’t your fiancé holding you.

But you would wait.

You would wait until he was ready to tell you himself.

but you were impatient.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The church was full. Everyone sat, watching you both with smiles on their faces.

If only they knew.

Namjoon sat in the audience, his pregnant wife beside him, hands clenched into fists. He was ready to bury this secret forever, to let it rot in the ground where it belonged.

The officiant’s voice echoed through the room.

"Do you, Jeon Jun-ho, take Y/N L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

Your heart pounded as they turned to you.

"Do you, Y/N L/N, take Jeon Jun-ho to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

You were two words away from binding yourself to a dead man.

A part of you secretly wished it was his name being spoken instead.

"I do…" you whispered, your lips curving into a smile.

Your eyes locked onto his. The man who thought you didn’t know.

"You may kiss the bride."

He pulled you in, his lips brushing against yours, his smile warm and sweet.

"I love you, Y/N."

Your heart ached, your fingers trembling as you caressed his cheek.

"I love you too, Jungkook." 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

note : it's my first time making smth like this lmaoo. do we hate jk nd oc? i do 🤭