#its a hurt/comfort💋

[spoonbf]

be honest would anyof u read my spoon-centric spockey fic if i finished the wip because its Dragging🙏

[aurorawritestoescape]

THE OTHER BROTHER

Johnny Miller (Joel’s twin) x f!reader | Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: you’re in love with your neighbor Joel but he doesn’t notice you. After another failure to get his attention, someone unexpected offers their help - Joel’s twin brother, Johnny.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, angst, twin au, age gap (Joel and Johnny are in their 30s, reader is in her early 20s), pining, unrequited love, heartbreak, hurt/comfort/hurt/comfort?, virginity loss, insecure reader, soft Johnny, praise kink, size kink, f!oral, breast play, unprotected piv (wrap it up), belly bulge, aftercare, kinda hopeful ending. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no physical description but she wears a dress.

Word count: 7,6 k

A/n: Kate, are Joel and Tommy not enough for you?! Nope, I need one more Miller bro!! I was inspired by Aly’s/ @iamasaddie post and Mina’s / @evolnoomym comment💕💕 Idk whose edit it is, lmk if you do, so I could send my kudos. That edit did something to me. Hope y’all will like the story!💖 Kisses to @milla-frenchy for betaing💋 Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

You walked into Joel’s backyard with hope, carrying you on its wings, and excitement, twisting your stomach. A cute summer dress, open sandals, accessories— everything had been planned out and thought over lots of times beforehand. It was your chance to get him to notice you, to finally see you as a woman and not only as his neighbors’ daughter.

You had attended Joel’s barbecues every summer since a few years back when your family had moved on that street. Almost instantly you had fallen in love with your middle aged neighbor Joel. He was handsome, funny, polite, very charming and on top of everything a single parent. Joel seemed to be a wonderful father. You weren’t friends with Sarah, but it wasn’t hard to notice the way they connected. They had that heartwarming father-daughter bond that you and your dad for some reason had never had.

You couldn’t think of anyone else but him. You had thought that leaving for college might have helped but it hadn’t. No one could compare to the perfect Joel Miller. Unfortunately you were just a girl for him. He was always polite and warm but his gaze would always slide over you. You had been crying and yearning for his love for years but it had felt as unreachable as the stars over your head. Unattainable dream.

Thinking that you had nothing to lose, you decided to try your luck once more. You had come back home for a summer break, and after a long time away from your parents you felt mature and confident enough to make Joel notice you. So you stepped into his backyard with a set goal in your mind—to win Joel Miller’s heart.

You found your parents among the other guests and joined them, before searching the backyard for a pair of beautiful brown eyes. Of course Joel was handling the grill. Butterflies in your stomach swirled in excitement, your heartbeat increased but the initial joy of seeing the man of your dreams evaporated instantly, when you noticed that he wasn't alone. His strong arm was wrapped around a waist of a beautiful woman. She was laughing and talking to him, and when Joel leaned down to gently kiss her lips, your heart shattered into a million pieces.

"What's wrong, honey?"

You tried to control your emotions when you heard your mom's voice but it was next to impossible. Upcoming tears squeezed your throat, your lower lip began trembling.

You shook your head and hastily turned away from the sight that set your butterflies on fire - the love of your life was kissing another woman.

“I’m ok,” you lied. “just something in my eye.”

You tried to cover your tears with your hand, and your mom stepped up closer to you, about to offer help but suddenly you heard a deep voice to your right.

“Hey. Don’t think we’ve met.”

Wetness was coating your eyes, distorting your sight, and you barely glanced at the man, who came up to your parents and you, and mumbled,

“Excuse me... I need…need to use the bathroom.”

You rushed away, your parents calling after you but you didn’t stop. You were full on crying.

You ran through Joel’s kitchen and hall and rushed to your house.

You were walking up the stairs of the porch when you heard someone shout behind you,

“Hey, wait!”

You turned around, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand, and what you saw made your jaw drop. Or rather who you saw.

It was Joel. At least you thought so at first. The man looked exactly like your crush but he was dressed differently— Joel whom you had seen five minutes ago was wearing a dark tee while his doppelganger had a plaid green shirt on with a white tee underneath. But the most striking difference was his hair- he had a short buzz cut contrary to Joel’s dark curls. His hair was lighter than his twin’s, just like his eyes.

The stranger came up to you slowly, his expression full of concern and sympathy. You were so flabbergasted that you forgot to hide your reddened eyes and wet face and were staring at the man with your mouth agape.

“I’m Johnny. Joel’s brother. I wanted to make sure ya fine.”

You continued staring at the man, completely lost for words and he talked again,

“I’m his twin brother,” he added, noticing your surprise. “I guess he doesn’t talk much about me, huh?” The stranger smiled as you shook your head.

“Wanna sit down?”

He motioned to the porch bench and you should have probably said ‘no’ and gone to your room to cry your eyes out but a few last minutes were so surreal and emotional that you couldn’t think straight anymore. You nodded. The man followed you there, took a seat at a respectable distance from you, his body turned to you slightly. You were staring at your hands, not sure what to talk about with your new acquaintance.

For a few moments you two were sitting in silence until you remembered the way Joel had been looking at the woman and a pathetic sob crawled up your throat.

“I don’t like her either,” Johnny said and your teary eyes snapped up at him.

“Hm?”

“His new girl. Too bossy. I’m not a fan.”

“I -I don’t… ’don’t like her’. I don’t know her at all,” you croaked.

“Yeah, but you like him, right?”

Your stomach dropped and you faked an awkward laugh, shaking your head.

“No, no, I don’t.”

“Quit lyin’, girl. I’m not dumb. I saw you waltz in there with a happy smile and then when you saw them...Damn, poor thing. Unless you’re in love with her but—,” he chuckled and you hastily shook your head again, waving your hands in protest.

“I don’t love him, oh my god!”

“Ok, ok. Keep denyin’ it. You can watch him get married and have a bunch of kids then.”

When you heard his words your heart froze and, not being able to hide your feelings, you broke into tears, covering your face with your hands.

“Fuck.” The man immediately scooted closer to you and placed his arm around your shoulders.

“’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ve been harsh. Maybe I’m a fool and you just had a bad day, that’s all.”

“No, no, you’re right. I do! I do love him,” you confessed in between sobs.

For a few moments you were crying and Johnny was rubbing your arm with his big hand until he spoke softly,

“You seem like a nice girl. Beautiful, sweet. Have you tried makin‘ him interested?”

You raised your teary eyes at the man and for some weird reason you admitted to him that you had fallen in love with Joel a long time ago but he had never noticed you.

“My brother sounds like an idiot. Look at you. You’re hot, baby.”

You smiled and dropped your eyes.

“And your smile is fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You felt warmth spread in your belly when the man put his finger under your chin and tilted your head up to face him.

You looked at him attentively, taking in every feature of his familiar yet novice face, and noticed that he was as handsome as Joel. His skin was more tan and his eyes were lighter, a mixture of hazel and green, and your heart fluttered at his beauty.

“Do you wanna get ‘im?”

Now it was your turn to laugh.

“Get him?”

“Yeah. First you need to make him notice you.”

“But he has a girlfriend,” you mumbled with defeat ringing in your words.

“So? She ain’t his wife. He can dump her whenever.”

You were quiet.

“Listen. I can get you into this house. Into his life. He’ll see you often and I bet he’ll notice the fuck out of such a hottie.”

You felt your cheeks heat up when you glanced at him and asked,

“How would you do that?”

The man winked at you with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Let’s pretend that you and I are going out.”

You giggled, thinking it was a joke, but Johnny kept talking and you realized that he was absolutely serious.

“I’m stayin’ with him right now. We’ll spend a lot of time in his house. He’ll notice you and then fall in love with you in no time.”

“I’m not sure he will. I’m too shy,” you admitted.

“He loves shy girls. And even if you ain’t very talkative. Damn, look at you. You’re hot. And I’ll wingman the fuck out of you.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Brothers share everything. Like, “Bro, yesterday she rocked my world. Her mouth’s heaven. And then she rode me! Damn, she’s the best I ever had. See?”

You were blinking at him with an open mouth and burning up cheeks. When you heard his filthy words you couldn’t help but gush into your panties. Johnny didn’t seem to hold back.

“He’ll be hard over you immediately.”

You furrowed your brows and asked,

“But isn’t there a bro code or something? that you can’t date your brothers’ ex girlfriends?”

“Nah, we don’t follow that.” Johnny waved away your concerns with his big hand. “We dated the same girls all the time in school. What’s good for me’s good for him, right?”

You didn’t know what to think. Johnny's idea was crazy but all of his arguments made a lot of sense. And you were desperate.

“Ok. We can try I guess,” you said, nervously fumbling with the hem of your dress.

“Fuck yeah we can!”

He gave you a charming smile and you smiled back, feeling a little better.

“But my parents can’t know, ok? I’ll tell them I’m with friends.”

“No problem. It’s fake anyway so no reason to make ‘em worry. But—,” he paused, his expression turning serious, — If we want it to work, we need to spend time together beforehand. It’ll help you to get comfortable around me, yeah? to make it believable.”

You nodded, trying to understand what he meant by ‘spend time’.

“Wanna do it now? Let’s hang out in your room. For some time.”

“Aren’t they gonna look for you?” You asked, glancing back at Joel’s house.

“I’m a big boy, baby, I don’t need to tell anyone where I’m goin’.” Johnny replied with a wink.

“Oh yeah, right.”

You got up and headed to the door. Your accomplice followed you, and when you were walking upstairs, you turned to him.

“Johnny, if my parents come early, they can’t see you ok?”

“No problem, I’ll hide in a closet,” he chuckled and gave you another wink.

When you entered your bedroom, Johnny looked around and took his flannel off. He was standing in the middle of your room, white tee stretched over his broad chest, his muscles bulging out of the short sleeves. He rolled them up, exposing more of his arms, and you swallowed loudly. He was bigger than Joel and in your small room he looked so huge and tall, that you felt your core burn.

“Cosy,” Johnny said, walking to your bed and plopped on it unceremoniously. He leaned his back against the headboard, his booted feet hanging off the edge. You were staring at him awkwardly, not knowing if you should sit next to him. Getting on the bed with practically a stranger was not something you could do easily.

So you sat down on a chair by your desk.

"Nah-uh. Get over ‘ere, bunny." He shook his head and patted the space next to him on the bed.

"Ehm... I don't know."

"Jesus, I don't bite. You need to get used to bein’ close to me. Joel isn't stupid. He'll sense that something's fishy if you're skittish like that."

You couldn't deny that he was right. So you came up to the other side of the bed and settled next to him.

"Wanna tell me a bit about yourself, beautiful?" he asked, flashing you a charming smile.

You felt your cheeks burn but after a moment of hesitation, you began telling him about your hobbies, your friends and your plans after graduation. He didn't interrupt you. He asked a few questions but mostly he was just nodding, listening to you attentively. A few times his gaze slid down to your lips, your cleavage, your naked legs, crossed at the ankles.

His eyes were leaving a pleasant heat in their wake until your whole body lit up and a constant warmth settled between your legs. Your pussy was tingling only from you being next to your new acquaintance, hearing his scent, masculine and enticing, seeing him smile at your words. His hazel eyes were getting darker the longer you talked, the more he looked at you.

“What about you, Johnny? What do you do?” You asked, wishing to learn more about the man you were about to fake date.

He averted his eyes and rubbed his scruffy cheek.

”It’s complicated, baby. I’d tell you if you were my girlfriend. For real I mean. But —.” He looked at you with an apologetic smile.

“Oh,” is all you could say in return, blinking at him.

“I can tell you that I travel a lot. ‘s prolly why we’ve never met. I can’t often visit Joel and Sarah.”

It got silent in the room for a moment except for the sound of birds’ chirping, coming through an open window.

“Do you wanna watch something?“ you asked, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Yeah, ‘k.” Johnny took his boots off and placed his feet on the bed. You marveled at how quickly he seemed to get comfortable but decided that he was just that easy-going.

You took your laptop and asked what he wanted to watch.

“Whatever you want, beautiful.”

You smiled at the compliment and your chest fluttered.

”We can watch The Office. It always relaxes me.”

“Yeah, I really wanna see you relaxed, bunny,” he smirked and you stuck your tongue out at him.

A few minutes later you were on the bed, shoulder to shoulder, watching a random episode of the Office that you put on.

Soon Johnny slid down the bedspread and placed his head on your pillow.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, pulling you down with him.

You didn’t know how and why you let him but soon his hand was wrapped around your shoulder and your head was resting on his broad chest.

He was warm and big and you felt your panties dampen more.

“I like that guy,” he commented after some time of watching.

“Ryan? He’s kind of a douche,” you giggled.

“Really?” Johnny hummed.

You continued watching the show, sometimes chuckling from time to time. Once Johnny absentmindedly bucked his hips up and your gaze involuntarily landed on a prominent bulge in his jeans. And then a few times on purpose.

Getting too turned on, you closed your eyes, trying to calm down the fire in your core. Unfortunately it got worse as without your eyesight your whole being concentrated on the strong arm resting heavily on you, on Johnny's scent, his steady, deep breathing.

“Baby?”

Johnny’s voice took you out of your horny trance and you hummed feeling your cheeks burn.

“Can you tell me something?”

“Yes?”

He sat up and you did the same, looking at him with confusion, trying to hide your arousal.

“Can you close your eyes and tell me if my voice is similar to Joel’s? People always answer differently. I wanna know what you think.”

You raised your brows.

“I can tell you right now. It’s similar. Very.”

“No, close your eyes, listen to it.”

You shrugged your shoulders and did what he asked, a little smile dancing on your lips.

“Hey, baby. You're very beautiful.” You smiled wider when you heard his gruff voice, squealing inside at the compliment.

”Thank you, Joel,” you laughed and added, “You sound just like him.” You opened your eyes but Johnny shook his head, motioning for you to shut them again. You did and heard the man sigh deeply.

“Ya know. I’ve been such a fool. I didn’t notice you before but now I see. How gorgeous you are. Crazy hot.”

Your smile vanished as you were listening to him, eyes closed, chewing on your lip. You had dreamed of hearing those words for such a long time that your heart could burst out of your chest at the moment.

“You have a girlfriend, Joel,” you whispered, playing along.

”She’s a mistake. Wish you could forgive me for not tellin’ you all this sooner… Wish I could rip this pretty dress off you and make you scream my name right now.”

Your breath hitched and a new surge of wetness made you squirm in your place.

“Wish I could kiss you right now.”

You instinctively wetted your lips, hearing his words, and the next second Johnny pressed his mouth to yours. You tensed up at first but in a second your body melted at the soft touch. Not opening your eyes, you tilted your head slightly to the side and parted your lips, inviting him in. Immediately Johnny’s tongue slipped inside and brushed yours, gently at first but then more assertively. He was swallowing your pleasured whimpers again and again as you were making out.

”Johnny, I can’t,” you murmured, pulling away and breaking the kiss.

You glanced at him and his expression took your breath away. He looked like he was ready to pounce on you any second. His eyes were burning with desire, lips glistened with your saliva and his broad chest was heaving, dangerously close to ripping his tee.

He visibly tried to calm himself down— he took a deep breath and then placed your hand between his.

“Yeah, fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost control like that.” His expression softened as his eyes were locked with yours.

“No, don’t be. It was nice but … but…”

You struggled to continue, the words got stuck in your throat.

Johnny’s eyes were darting between yours, as he was patiently waiting for you to continue.

Then you whispered, your voice barely audible, gaze downcast, “I’m a virgin.”

You expected any reaction but not the one he gave you.

“Fuck.”

Your eyes snapped up at him and tears immediately welled up in your eyes. Johnny looked straight up disappointed. He pulled away from you and your sob broke the icy silence in the room. You were always terrified to admit it to people, especially to men, and at that moment your worst nightmare was coming true.

“‘s bad,” Johnny mumbled, still not looking at you. “Shit.”

You were hurt but your pain quickly turned into anger.

“Please leave!”

As if finally having noticed your distress, Johnny turned to you, shaking his head.

“Oh fuck, no, no, I don’t mind. Shit. I think— it’s great—for whatever reason you—no. It’s Joel, baby.”

“What? What about Joel?” you asked, feeling a little better, when he took your hands in his and answered,

”He’s not a fan of virgins. Never was. He told me many times he didn’t want the responsibility of bein’ someone’s first.”

“Why?” You felt your heart shuttering again.

“Don’t know,” Johnny shrugged, ”I guess he prefers someone more experienced. Once he broke up with a girl when he found out she was a virgin.”

Now it was your turn to curse.

“Fuck.” You probably looked absolutely defeated and Johnny rapidly wrapped his arm around you to pull you to his torso.

You started silently crying on his shoulder, having realized that Joel would never love you, would never even give you a chance.

Johnny was rubbing your arm with his big warm hand while you were soaking his white tee with tears, until he said,

“You know, it’s not a big deal.”

You sniffed and sat up straight.

“What do you mean not a big deal?” your voice was shaky and small. “You’ve just said he hates virgins.”

Johnny lifted his hand to wipe your wet face with his thick fingers.

“Kinda easy to lose it, beautiful. Your v card.”

“No, it’s not. I wanted Joel to— to do it. I don’t want anyone else.”

You were pouting your lips, eyes reddened and teary staring at the man sitting close to you. In your blurry vision he looked even more like Joel.

”I can help you, bunny,” Johnny offered with a lopsided smile. He tilted his head to the side and waited for your reaction.

You swallowed loudly when you heard him and turned away. You couldn’t deny that Johnny was hot, your soaked panties were a good evidence of your desire for him but how could you do it with a man you had just met. Who wasn’t Joel.

Joel who had a girlfriend.

Joel who didn’t want to deal with virgins.

Joel who never noticed you.

You looked back at the twin brother of the man you loved and asked,

“Would you really do it for me?”

Johnny cleared his throat.

“Ehm… yeah, why wouldn’t I? You’re hot,” he said it so matter of fact-ly that it sounded sincere and you believed that he really wanted to help.

“Ok, good,” you said, with an air of uncertainty. “We can try but maybe not today, ok? We’ve just met,” you mumbled, fumbling with your fingers.

“Yeah. ‘Course,” Johnny smirked and then quickly added, “Did you like it when I kissed you?”

Not looking at the man you nodded.

“Want me to do it again?”

His question made your heart skip a beat. You had felt amazing when he had kissed you, your body reacted to him in a wonderful way and, after glancing up at his plush lips, you nodded the second time.

Johnny gently cupped your cheek and leaned towards you. His lips began caressing yours, your tongues tangled and, not breaking the kiss, you scooted closer to him on the bed. He read your intentions and pulled you into his big strong arms. His hand snaked up to the back of your head, the other was pressed to your lower back, keeping you close, as you were tasting him, feeling his heart thump against your chest. You were floating.

Soon his mouth slithered to your jaw and he nibbled on your skin there while his hands began roaming your body, gliding over your back, your arms until he squeezed your ass with his palms and you moaned into his mouth.

“Oh, baby, ya fuckin’ hot,” he groaned and you felt his lips suck a hickey into your neck while his hand snaked under your skirt. He engulfed your whole asscheek with his palm and your thin lacy panties easily let the heat of his skin seep through. You whimpered when the pads of his fingers glided down to your clothed pussy. Just one touch was enough for your brain to panic and you pulled away from him.

“Sorry, Johnny, it’s too much.”

You wanted to get off the bed, the whirlwind of emotions overwhelming you, but he grabbed you by the hand.

“Don’t leave. Please. Sorry, bunny. I went in too fast.“

You sat down on your heels, catching your breath and trying to calm down your foggy mind and burning up body.

“Let’s cuddle. C’mon. Jus’ wanna hold you.”

He returned your laptop to your desk and lay down on the bed that now seemed too small for his huge body. It made the whole situation even hotter.

A fear of the unknown and an immense desire were fighting in your heart, and you let the latter win, assuring yourself that you were just going to get used to him hugging you, so you could get close to Joel later.

That’s why you let him wrap his strong arms around you, let his face be inches from yours, let his hot breath fan your lips, let his scent intoxicate you. You were lying in his embrace for just a few moments before his lips found yours, and you didn’t fight it anymore, you welcomed their warmth.

He was more careful that time, slowly pulling you close to his body, but his hands didn’t wander. What was making you melt was his quiet words, seeping into your ears between kisses, barely audible through your soft whimpers, smacking of the lips and his breathing.

“Ya taste like honey—beautiful girl—Joel’s fuckin’ lucky—so pretty—could eat you whole, baby.”

Contrary to him, you were getting bolder and sent your hands roam his broad back, squeeze his masculine arms, glide over the slopes of his shoulders and then run through his short hair that pleasantly tickled your palms.

It was a matter of time before he slowly pushed you on your back and began kissing your neck. You tilted your head back into the pillow, giving him more access and he happily growled against your heated skin.

“Good girl,” you heard his praise and the ache of your pussy made you press your thighs together.

“Oh, Joe…Johnny,” you started and then hastily corrected yourself.

Johnny stopped nibbling on your collarbone and your heart froze, expecting him to get angry, but the man smiled at you.

“You can call me Joel, beautiful… to practice, yeah? Soon he’s gonna be the one kissin’ you.”

The suggestion sounded insane but in your aroused, overwhelmed with feelings state you let yourself imagine the man you loved caressing you with his lips. You fluttered your eyes shut and it was so easy to fantasize about Joel’s hand holding your hip and pressing you into the mattress, Joel’s lips peppering kisses along your neck and then going down, reaching the plush of your cleavage. Drowning in your fantasy you missed the moment Johnny’s chin pushed your neckline down, exposing more of your breasts. You rubbed your thighs against each other, chasing pressure on your tingling pussy, as his palm started kneading your tit over the fabric.

“Yeah, Joel,” you breathed out and didn’t stop yourself that time, fully succumbing to the want of your heart and body.

Your mind turned off completely, you were so gone in pleasure, that when you finally opened your eyes, to your surprise you saw Johnny’s hot tongue swirl around your pebbled nipple. A loud moan flew out of your parted lips as your hazy gaze took in the sight of your dress and bra pulled down and the man caressing your nipples, alternating between sucking and licking them, while your naked chest was heaving under his ministrations.

With his mouth almost engulfing your whole breast, Johnny glanced up at you and his blown out lustful eyes sent another bolt of arousal through your core.

“Johnny, please,” was all you could muster. He hummed into your tit before parting from it and searching for your glossy eyes.

“Do you like it when I do this?” He asked, his breath hitting your saliva coated skin, your nipples as hard as diamonds now. You mumbled a weak ’yeah’..

“Good. And have you ever had your pussy kissed, beautiful?”

You bit your lip, almost reaching your high just from hearing the question.

“No,” you whispered back and Johnny shot you a mysterious smile.

“Can I be the first, baby?”

“I— I don’t know,” you said hesitantly.

“C’mon, bunny. I wanna make you feel good. Wanna feel real good?”

The act seemed to you so intimate and vulnerable, just an idea of it made you anxious.

“Lil scared bunny,” he smiled and then wrapped his fingers around your naked breast, holding it in his hand. “Look.”

A second later his lips brushed your nipple again, his dark eyes locked with yours.

“Imagine the nipple is your little clit. I’ll jus’ lick it like that.”

His tongue stroked it, covering the sensitive bud in his saliva.

“Then I’ll suck on it like this.”

Johnny took it into his mouth and applied gentle suction to it.

“I’ll make you come so hard like that. It’s just another type of kissing, baby.”

You���ve never been turned on more than at that moment so after a few moments of consideration you shoved your fears away and whimpered,

“Ok.”

“Good girl.”

You hole clenched when you heard his praise. Johnny pulled the hem of his tee up and took it off.

Your breath hitched when you saw his strong chest and soft belly with a happy trail that led under his jeans. Johnny casually glided his hand over his strong torso and you bit your lip, not letting out another needy whimper.

“‘s getting too hot,” he mumbled and lay down between your thighs. His legs were hanging off the bed and you marveled at the muscles, flexing in his back and shoulders. You wondered if Joel’s body was as gorgeous as his twin brother’s. Of course it was, you thought.

The dress was still covering you and after a nod from you, Johnny lifted your skirt. Your hips flew up as if by themselves when he started sliding your panties off.

”Fuck, baby, this is the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen,” his soft voice praised you as you were lying in front of him, almost naked and trembling with nerves.

“Thank you,” you whispered back.

“Can’t wait to taste you.”

He spread your folds with his index finger and a thumb while his shoulders were keeping your thighs wider apart. Your pussy opened up to him like an offering.

“Pretty flower,” he commented and immediately did what he’d promised.

He licked your hardened clit, drawing a pathetic moan from you, and then lapped at it a few times. The sensations you were feeling were incomparable to anything you’d ever experienced. Your hand darted to your naked breasts and you began twitching your nipples.

“Fuck, yeah,” he mumbled against your sex and the vibrations sent shivers through your body.

Johnny smiled, having noticed your reaction, and began sucking on your bud, massaging it between his lips.

“Ahhh—oh my god—oh yeah,” was all you could mutter. When you were on the brink of ecstasy, his tongue slid down and snuck into your virginal hole. He began fucking you with it, spreading your walls with his flattened tongue and your needy screams, moans and whimpers filled the bedroom. You were sure that if someone was passing by your house, they’d hear the sounds of your pleasure but your mind was switched off, only the bliss between your legs and the man giving it to you mattered at that moment.

You tried to grab his hair but it was too short to hold on to so your palm pressed onto the back of his head as you were greedily holding Johnny's mouth against your pussy.

“Fuckin’ delicious. Can’t believe I’m first.”

With your glossed over gaze you watched him return his tongue to your throbbing clit and stroke it a few times, until your eyes rolled back and a hard orgasm exploded like fireworks inside your core, sending hot waves of euphoria through your body.

Johnny didn’t stop lapping at you until you tried to close your legs, the ache of overstimulation burning you.

He sat up and wiped his wet chin with the back of his hand, the other hand splayed over your thigh, gently rubbing it.

“Look at you, beautiful. Came hard for me, huh? Jus’ like I promised.”

He smiled at you, visibly pleased with your almost drunk post-orgasmic state. Your tits were out and slightly pushed up by the neckline, nipples puffy from his and your caress, your summer dress bunched up around your waist, your glistening pussy fully on display.

While your eyes were admiring the beauty of his features, so similar to Joel’s, you failed to notice his hands unzipping his jeans and pulling them down.

Your gaze darted to the lower part of his body when you spotted a movement there— his hard cock bobbing over your naked cunt.

It was long, quite thick, with a fat tip that was oozing clear precum. He stroked the shaft a couple of times with his big hand and grunted, “ya wanna make me feel good too, baby?”

As if by an instinct your thighs opened up wider, inviting him inside you, your mind clouded by lust.

“Yes, Johnny.”

“Nah, baby, call me Joel,” he gruffed as he bent down, planted his hands on the bed, next to your shoulders and added, ”I know you wanna. And I ain’t against role playing.”

“Really?”

“Sure, bunny.”

It was wrong. And so hot at the same time. You giggled, sound strained by the nerves, twisting your stomach. He was big and you had never imagined your first time happening with a man you’d just met. Yet your pussy was screaming to be pierced with a cock. His cock. You’d never been turned on that much in your life and you gave in to the temptation without a second thought.

His lips found yours at the same time his tip nudged your hole, and when his tongue slipped into your mouth, the head of his cock pushed assertively into you.

He swallowed your whine and paused, hovering over your face, your eyes locked.

“Shit, ya tight. But we can do it, yeah, bunny?”

”It hurts, Johnny.”

“Shhh, not Johnny, remember? C’mon, it’ll help you relax.”

“Joel.”

“Yeah, good girl.”

As if the name of the man you loved was magical, you walls relaxed a little, letting in a few inches of his brother’s manhood.

Johnny planted a light kiss on your lips and you felt his thumb graze your clit before he began gently rubbing it.

“Close your eyes, beautiful, let my cock taste your sweet cunt.”

“Oh, fuck, Joel,” you moaned, fully lost in the fantasy, and squeezed your eyelids shut.

“Now breathe. Big breaths, bunny.”

He was whispering praise into your ear, distracting you from the dull pain of the stretch, slowly pushing his length in while his thumb was swirling around your clit.

“Like that, beautiful—yeah, tight little cunt— the tip’s in—good, so good—a little more, baby—my good girl—fuck, it’s almost in—-YEAHHH..”

His triumphant growl mixed with your loud moan when his balls hit your ass and you felt full like never before.

As soon as he sheathed his manhood inside your warm tight cunt, your lips locked, and while your tongues were sliding against each other, you were trying to get used to the feeling of something so long and thick stuffed inside you.

Your walls soon accommodated his cock and the pain slowly dissipated, giving way to pleasure.

“Ima be gentle, baby,” Johnny promised, after breaking the kiss, and languidly rolled his hips into yours. The sensation of his big member moving inside your tight channel made you tilt your head back into the pillow and open your lips in a silent moan.

He didn’t lie. With one hand planted on the bed, the other playing with your clit, he was sliding his cock in and out of your sopping pussy, slowly but surely bringing you closer to the peak. Your greedy hands danced over the slopes of his strong chest, fingers digging into his biceps, nails leaving white marks on his tan skin.

“Yes, Joel—please—so good, Joel,” you were whispering, letting your broken heart believe that the man you had always dreamed about was between your legs at that moment.

Johnny’s greedy eyes couldn’t get enough of you- your lustful expression, your tits bouncing with each thrust, your folds, spread around his base.

“Ya have the wettest pussy, baby. Soakin’ me so good. Look at all that cream.”

With hazy eyes you watched him swipe his thumb over the base of his cock, coated in your pearly juices, and bring it to his lips. He took the finger in his mouth and hummed in pleasure.

Your tongue slid over your lower lip and, taking it as an invitation, Johnny kissed you, sharing the taste of your desire.

You were melting under his unhurried thrusts, but your core needed more and, too shy to ask for it, you began meeting his hips halfway, fucking yourself on his cock harder.

“Mmm, bunny wants more?” Johnny smirked into a corner of your lips.

“Yes, Joh—Joel, please.”

“Of course, beautiful. Let’s make this sweet pussy scream.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he sat up and pulled your hips to himself. You slid one the bed with a gasp and he chuckled before thrusting in harder.

His tip hit your cervix and you grasped the sheets with a moan.

“Hurts, baby?”

“A little.”

He shook his head, grabbed a spare pillow and, after lifting your hips, placed it under your ass.

“Now?” he asked as he pulled his cock out to the tip and then shoved it back inside.

You whimpered when his cock kissed something delicious inside you and the sensation made you clench around his stiff member.

“Like that, yes, yes,” you mumbled, sounding drunk, eyes set on the place where you were joined.

Johnny smiled and rolled his hips again, the stroke hard and deep, and then again and again until he was rutting into you while you were turning into a whimpering, cock-dumb mess.

When he tilted his hips up and drilled his manhood into your cunt, you both saw a bulge appear in your belly and you gasped at the sight. You’d never seen anything like it.

Not stopping, Johnny placed his palm over the lump and tilted his head, watching and feeling his cock move under your skin.

“Fuck, ‘s hot.” He looked mesmerized. “You’re hot, bunny. Shit, gonna come soon. Do it with me.”

His thumb continued dancing on your clit and it took just a few strokes for you to explode. Your pulsating pussy was flattering around his manhood, nerves ablaze, while your juices flooded him inside your core, soaking his hot, soft skin, stretched over his throbbing cock. It was the hardest, most pleasant orgasm of your life and the warmth between your legs spread out, filling your heart with gratitude and affection.

Johnny was unaware of your inner feelings, and as soon as your pussy relaxed around him, he pulled his cock out and after a couple of pumps, started painting your pussy and belly with pearly white ropes of his thick cum.

You watched his balls draw up, his slit push out the load like you’d never seen anything more beautiful. Endorphins in your blood made you feel like you were floating, your limbs pleasantly tingling, and when your eyes met, you gave Johnny a tired, satisfied smile.

He answered it with his lopsided one and plopped on the bed next to you. You were catching your breath for some time until he tucked his softening cock into his jeans, got up and went to the bathroom.

You felt like you couldn’t move a muscle and, when he returned, he helped you to clean up with a wet towel.

“I reckon you ain’t on the pill,” he mumbled, wiping the cum off your skin.

“No. I will be,” you said, glancing up at him but his eyes were set on the task.

When he was done, you reached for him.

“Wanna cuddle?”

To your disappointment Johnny shook his head, and grabbed his tee off the floor.

“Need to go, bunny. I have a thing.”

You sat up, fixing your wrinkled dress, covering yourself up.

“Ok.” Your voice, small and sad, made him pause and he stepped up to the bed and bent down, reaching for you.

His hand cupped your heated cheek and he kissed you before speaking.

“Let’s have dinner tomorrow. At Joel’s.”

You beamed at him, nodding eagerly.

Before leaving he wrote his number on a note and gave you a wink.

“Wear something hot for Joel. And for me.”

You barely slept that night— the memory of your first sex was playing on a loop in your head. Every time you closed your eyes, you felt Johnny’s hands on your body, his cock stretching you, and your pussy ached for him again. You made yourself come twice with your fingers and when the sun was already breaking through the inky sky, only then you fell asleep.

The next day you woke up early and texted Johnny ‘good morning’. He didn’t reply and you thought he must be still sleeping. So you busied yourself with preparations for the dinner— choosing the clothes to wear, makeup, accessories. You wanted to look casual but hot like Johnny had asked you. You decided on a pair of tight jeans and a sexy top and went to the kitchen.

You lied to your parents that in the evening you were meeting a friend. Like always after any party your mom was spilling out all the gossip she’d gathered the day before. Both you and your dad just hummed here and there, not really interested in the boring rumors but suddenly your ears perked up when she mentioned Joel’s twin brother.

”I can’t believe that man. No shame at all.”

She noticed that she finally had your active attention and her eyes lit up.

“What’s wrong with Johnny?” you asked, while fear was creeping up in your chest.

“He’s such a deadbeat brother. Poor Joel.”

It seemed like you stopped breathing altogether, listening to your mother talk about the man who had taken your virginity the day before. She continued,

“Johnny visits him once a year, borrows money and vanishes until the next time he needs it. Joel’s a single father! Working man! And that leach uses his kindness and generosity. Ugh!”

“How do you know all that?” you asked, grasping at the last straw of hope that it was a lie, misunderstanding, baseless rumour.

“Dear, everyone knows that,” your mother laughed and started talking about the other neighbor who had told her and you didn’t hear her anymore. Your thoughts were racing and your heart was pounding loudly in your ears.

You excused yourself and ran to your room.

‘He vanishes’—the words of your mother were ringing in your head, your stomach being twisted by nerves.

You plopped on your bed and called Johnny. He didn’t pick up. You decided to wait. 5 min later you called him again. Nothing.

In three hours you were a nervous mess. You had cried several times, had sent dozens of messages that were unanswered and unread, had called him more times that you wished to admit but hadn’t heard his voice once.

That phone number was the only thing that he had left you, yet you realized that there was another option.

You put on the clothes you’d prepared for the dinner, rinsed your face off your tears as well as you could and headed to Joel’s.

When you knocked on the door, you feared that no one would answer. The uncertainty was suffocating you and your breathing was heavy. All you wished for was to get answers - did the man who had taken your virginity lie to you? Did he use you like a fuck toy and vanished? Was his attention to you just a means to get into your panties?

You were chewing nervously on your lower lip when Joel opened the door. For a second you thought it was Johnny, so much they looked alike but a little ray of hope dissipated when you saw the man’s soft curls.

”Hey, sweetheart,” Joel greeted you, visibly confused by your visit.

You cleared your throat and mumbled,

“Hello. Could I see Johnny?”

Joel opened his mouth and closed it before mumbling,

“Fuck.”

Your heart fell in your stomach when you saw him pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh.

“Sweetheart. Excuse me but— Was he with you yesterday?”

You nodded and he cursed again.

“He told me— he—,” Joel paused, his expression sad and apologetic. ”I’m so sorry, sweetie, but he left this morning. I don’t know what he told you but—.”

He shook his head, looking physically pained to be telling you that.

When all your fears were proven right, you couldn’t keep your despair inside anymore. Tears burst out of your eyes as you were nodding at Joel’s words like everything was alright. Like you weren’t hurt. The tears flowed so much that you barely could see Joel through the wetness in your eyes.

Joel placed his warm hand on your shoulder.

“Please, sweetheart, come inside.”

When you asked Joel about Johnny, he immediately understood that you were the girl he had slept with the previous night. Johnny had bragged about fucking the hottest chick in the neighborhood.

Joel couldn’t believe it had been you, so shy and sweet, he’d never expected Johnny to get his hands on someone so pure and lovely.

He felt horrible for letting his vagabond brother into his home again, and subsequently into your life. When you were sitting in his kitchen, crying quietly, he wanted to comfort you so badly his heart hurt. He placed a hot cup of tea in front of you and you thanked him between sobs. A pang of guilt shot through his heart.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, stepping up to you. He took your hands in his and when you lifted your face and gave him a little smile, your gorgeous eyes full of tears, Joel felt something stir in his heart. Something he hadn’t felt for a long time. It made his breath hitch for a moment.

Even with your face streaked with tears you were so damn beautiful.

Why hadn’t he ever noticed how beautiful you were?

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

MASTERLIST

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

[abiatackerman]

"Levi x Reader" Masterlist

Oneshots:

(Aot era)

Daddy's little rival

Just Levi and his son are fighting over you on a weekend afternoon!!!

Interrupted by brats

What can be worse for Levi when the brats interrupt his kissing twice? You'll be leaving for a week and he can't even properly give you a goodbye kiss! He'll definitely punish the brats for this!!!!

Oops! Daddy said the "F" word?!

What happens when Levi accidentally curses in front of his own son? Of course his son starts repeating him too!

Food fight and forgiven kisses

After having a rough fight with Levi, you decide not to eat anything. Being defeated by your stubbornness, Levi throws you over his shoulder to feed you himself.

Sweet nothings to the baby bump

Nothing is more adorable than Levi talking sweetly with the baby who's currently in your bump... Who ever thought humanity's strongest soldier can be this gentle?

Healing touches

Hiding sickness is nothing unexpected when it comes to Levi Ackerman, but he always fails to hide it from you. But he's not minding it since your soft touches never fails to heal him up.

Love lost, peace gained (angst)

"Congratulations to your marriage, Levi Ackerman. I hope you'll have a happy life."

You say smiling softly as you take your last look at him. Last look at him as "Your Levi"

Silly Jealousy

Doesn't matter if it's just a young recruit who has a crush on you, you're his! All he wants to do is throw this boy out of the window and cuddle you....

A stupid promise

Falling for a captain who's 10 years older than you was stupid. Making a promise with him in the middle of the night was stupider!

Sass War: Levi Vs Y/N

Why would Levi have to be the only one with a smart mouth? Nope, you're not gonna let him win this time... You'll have a "SWEET" fight with him over words today!

Together we fall, together we rise

Levi was on the verge of dying and was severely hurt but that didn't stop you from loving him or made his resolve weak. Rather the two of you vowed that you'll heal him so Levi will be able to kill Zeke himself!

Sweet Banters

Levi scolds you for skipping meals, for not taking care of yourself. Instead of taking his concern seriously you tease Levi by calling him "Princess" and "Pookie", flustering him to your heart's content.

Morning kisses and pancakes

"Husband Levi Ackerman" cooks your breakfast while you sleep comfortably. Then gently waking you up he feeds you and it feels nothing but a dream to you two!

Period cramps

You never thought out of everyone, Levi Ackerman will massage your abdomen while you're having cramps.... It's not like you're complaining because it feels so good!

Frosty night, warm embraces

The cold is nothing compared to Levi's warmth.... You sigh with content and close your eyes, hugging him tightly and fall asleep with a smile...

Reverse "Healing Touches"

Just a description of "Boyfriend Levi Ackerman" taking care of her sweetest girlfriend while she's sick!

Too late (angst)

He thought you both had enough time and that's why he rejected you.... But this world is cruel... It never fails to show its cruelty to him...

Sweat Soaked Confessions

Typical Levi, who was sick, was pushing himself as far as could and was sweating due to the forced efforts. Getting mad you start to snap at him, but the snapping turns suddenly into something else.

Wine and drunken whispers

Nothing but Levi taking you to your room after you get drunk. Being the sweetest person he is, he takes care of you grumpily and stays with you until you fall asleep.....

Carriage Confessions

Your smile is adorable to Levi. Will he miss any chance to make you smile? Hell no. He'll make sure you smile even if it means he has to say some lame jokes to do so.

Yandere talks

Why does each and every possessive word of him sound so sexy? His Yandere behaviour never fails to turn you on...

Red Date (NSFW)

Everything is red, your dress, your lips, the wine.... And your cheeks too after you and Levi share the intense kiss 💋

Falling asleep with Levi

Nothing can give you or Levi more peace than falling asleep together while cuddling. It's a dream for both of you......

First date

Levi has finally invited you on a date, indirectly. Since it's Levi, he takes you to a calm countryside so that you both will be able to enjoy the beautiful sunset.

Desk war and pencil swords

Just you and Levi, having sweet conversations and funny dramas while doing paperwork together....

(Modern Era) (Requests are open):

Detective Levi x Doctor Levi (NSFW)

You work in the same organisation where the best detective of your country, Levi Ackerman works. Since it's not a rare thing for you to heal him both physically and mentally, it also shouldn't be a surprising fact if you find out he likes you, right?

Teacher Levi x Student reader

You have an "open-secret" crush on the most stoic professor of your college, on Professor Levi Ackerman. When your crush calls you in his office room and asks if you can keep a secret or not, can you say no?

Additional:

Personal headcanons and thoughts on Levi

How I headcanon Levi as a boyfriend/lover/husband. Also some random facts about him which are totally my personal thoughts.

"Levi month 24" event's oneshots

All the Oneshots are written on the different prompts of the event "Levi Month 24"

Levi's birthday special: Christmas present

It's Christmas and Levi's birthday!!!!!! Of course you will prepare a secret present for him, right?

Masterlist of requested Oneshots

The list of Oneshots I've written based on the requests! You can request one too, just send an ask about how you want the Oneshot to be!

Also here's the link of my main masterlist and introduction post! If you're curious, you're welcome to check them out! Almost everything I've posted till now are listed there!

[aventurineswife]

...Shadow I do believe you need to write an enemies-to-lovers with sunday, to feed the sunday fans.

(i'm not one but i do encourage the creativity) -Smooch Anon 💋

The Spaces Between Us

Summary: In the Dreamscape, a realm where reality and illusion intertwine, you and Sunday, the Halovian Protector of Dreams, are forced to confront your differences and growing attraction while traveling aboard the Astral Express. Though you despise Sunday for his role in creating the Sweetdream Paradise, a utopian world that ensnared countless souls, a series of heated debates and vulnerable moments reveal cracks in both your facades. As you grow closer, the lines between hatred and love blur, culminating in a kiss that neither of you fully understands but both deeply feel.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Slow burn, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Tension, Forbidden love, Psychological conflict, Flawed characters.

Warnings: Heavy emotional conflict, Intense philosophical debates, Vulnerability and guilt, Brief kiss, leading to unresolved feelings, Potential for future developments.

[Inspired by]

The Dreamscape was a realm of whispers, where the tangible and intangible blurred into one. It was here that you had first crossed paths with Sunday, the Halovian Protector of Dreams. His presence was a quiet command, his eyes glowing with an unsettling mix of empathy and authority. But to you, those eyes had always felt more like judgment than compassion.

You were no stranger to the Dreamscape’s twisted allure. It had swallowed up people you cared about, reducing them to smiling shells. Sunday’s Sweetdream Paradise had been the root of it all—a utopia, he’d called it, though you knew better. To you, it was an insidious prison. And he, its architect, was the one you blamed.

"Your hypocrisy knows no bounds, Sunday," you said sharply, folding your arms as you faced him across the astral-lit room.

The two of you were aboard the Astral Express now, bound to the same journey under Welt Yang’s watchful eye. It was a situation neither of you had chosen, and the friction was palpable.

Sunday tilted his head slightly, the golden glow of his halo casting faint patterns on the walls. “You mistake intention for malice,” he replied, his voice calm but cool. “The Paradise wasn’t meant to harm.”

You scoffed, stepping closer. “Tell that to the people who lost their lives chasing a lie.”

His wings quivered slightly, a rare crack in his composure. “I acted out of mercy. Do you think the chaos of this world is kinder?”

The proximity between you grew suffocating as you leaned forward, pointing a finger at his chest. “Kindness without consent is tyranny, Sunday.”

For a brief moment, his serene mask slipped. His eyes searched yours, a storm brewing within their depths. “And what would you have done?” he asked, his voice lower now, tinged with something unspoken. “Watched as people tore each other apart, believing it to be freedom?”

The air between you was electric, charged with unspoken emotions and barely concealed tension. His wings shifted, fingers brushing against your arm as he stepped back, breaking the moment before it could spiral into something more.

The arguments didn’t stop. If anything, the days aboard the Astral Express only intensified them. Every mission, every philosophical debate, seemed to draw you closer to the edge of something neither of you could define.

One night, after a heated exchange about the nature of sacrifice, you found yourself alone in the observation car. The stars outside blurred into streaks of light as the Express surged forward, but your thoughts were stuck in the past.

“You’re quieter than usual.”

His voice startled you, but you didn’t turn. Sunday stood a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back, his halo glowing softly in the dim light.

“Don’t you ever get tired of pretending you’re above it all?” you asked, not bothering to mask the bitterness in your tone.

He stepped closer, his boots clicking softly against the floor. “Pretending?”

“Yes.” You finally turned to face him, the intensity of his gaze unsettling. “You act like you’re untouchable, but I see through you. You’re just as lost as the rest of us.”

His expression shifted, the faintest hint of vulnerability breaking through. “And if I am?” he asked quietly. “If I’m lost, does that make my intentions any less genuine?”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. For the first time, you saw the cracks in his armor—the guilt, the doubt, the weight of his choices.

You stepped closer, your voice softer now. “It makes you human, Sunday. Something you seem determined to deny.”

His wings fluttered, a subtle but telling reaction. “Humanity is... complicated,” he admitted. “I’ve spent so long trying to protect others that I’ve forgotten how to protect myself.”

The honesty in his words left you momentarily speechless. The distance between you had vanished, and for the first time, the tension didn’t feel like a battle but a fragile truce.

It was during a mission to a shattered planet that everything changed. The two of you had been separated from the rest of the crew, forced to rely on each other as you navigated the ruins of a forgotten city.

The arguments were fewer now, replaced by quiet conversations and lingering glances. But the undercurrent of tension remained, shifting into something neither of you dared name.

When a sudden cave-in left you trapped in a narrow passage, the closeness became unbearable.

“Are you hurt?” Sunday asked, his voice tinged with genuine concern as he brushed the dust from your shoulder.

“I’m fine,” you replied, though your heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the collapse.

He was too close, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that left you breathless. “You’re trembling,” he murmured, his hand lingering on your arm.

“It’s the adrenaline,” you lied, though the heat rising between you told a different story.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air was thick with unspoken words, and his wings fluttered softly, hand brushing against your back.

“Why do you hate me?” he asked suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t—”

“You do.” His hand moved to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. “And yet, you’re still here.”

The vulnerability in his eyes was disarming. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the distance between you disappeared. When his lips brushed yours, it was hesitant, as if testing the boundaries of a fragile truce.

The kiss was brief but electric, leaving you both breathless.

“We shouldn’t—” you began, pulling back, but his hand on your cheek stopped you.

“Perhaps not,” he said softly, his gaze steady. “But tell me you don’t feel it too.”

You couldn’t.

The journey ahead was uncertain, but the walls between you and Sunday had begun to crumble. The love that bloomed between you was as complicated as the man himself—marked by tension, conflict, and the hope of something more.

In the end, it was the imperfections that made it beautiful.

I tried if you couldn't tell 🧍‍♀️

My fav trope may be enemies to lovers but I'm definitely horrible at writing it☹️💔

[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: 1050 AD, 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 🔞 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 ⛩️

🍯 I. Hankali

     Sukuna’s lips are curled into a sneer as he stares down at the shivering gaggle of priests kneeling at his feet. He towers over them, his shadow outstretched like an ominous hand, crimson eyes hard and merciless as he peels away the veneer of their presence to sink his teeth into their motivations.

     Fear. These witless worms are motivated by fear, naught else. He half expects one of them to piss themselves any moment.

     Sukuna has lived a life of solitude from birth, and one thing solitude has taught him is that his own strength is what is reliable. Friendships, companions, love, all of those are useless tethers beneath his scope of interest and control. No one invites him to things, because his lethal reputation has impressed upon them that he does not care. The people of Hida fear his power, and so they grovel to curry favor in hopes of gaining his protection. He is a sorcerer, but to them he is a god.

     Hapless lichen and unmarked graves are testament of his power. A sea of blood for him to drink from endlessly. Meat to be torn and swallowed, sweet and succulent and limitless in its variety.

     What care has he for petty festivals and sniveling proselytizing? He cannot make their crops grow nor their cattle healthy. He does not control those forces of nature, but these provincial types are superstitious about jujutsu.

     And there are no other sorcerers who can lay claim to the feats he has accomplished.

     His sneer becomes a leering grin.

     “I accept your invitation,” he says in an even voice, deep and resonant in the temple he has claimed as home for most of his adult life. He watches with disdain as he sees the priests breathe collective sighs of relief.

     “We thank his lordship for his consideration,” the head priest says, forehead pressed on the cool stone of the floor. Sukuna says nothing in response. He merely waits.

     “I’m sure you do,” he says laconically after a stretch of fearful silence. “Get out.”

     Thus are the priests dismissed, their limbs intact, and their numbers the same as when they arrived. They consider this a blessing in and of itself, scurrying out of the shrine like startled insects. Sukuna watches them go, his smirk turning to a pensive frown.

     “Mercy, my lord?” Uraume’s cool voice is amused. Sukuna huffs out a breath.

     “There is no joy in killing frightened peasants. Aside, there will be blood aplenty at this harvest festival of theirs. Blood is the only thing gods demand in tribute, after all.”

     And Sukuna is fair starved for sacrifice.

     The weeks leading up to the festival are hectic. With the Five Empty Generals and the Sun, Moon, and Star Squads eliminated, the capital, and by extension Hida, is thrown into chaos. Bandits roam the surrounding areas, waylaying travelers and refugees alike. Temples are packed to capacity to give alms to the starving and destitute. Misery permeates the air as the storm of Sukuna’s fury is felt throughout Heaven and Earth.

     No one opposes him in the wake of this war, and he consolidates his power, taking tribute and extracting iron clad binding vows to secure and fortify his position.

     But by the gods he can’t bring himself to care about any of it. It feels pointless to him. It nettles at his nerves, these petty political squabbles between clans of sorcerers who could not stand against him in the end. The Sugawara clan is especially in disarray, having lost their best sorcerers to Sukuna’s lethal domain.

     Would that he could bring himself care, though. It’s as if the victory that should have been sweetest to savor has turned to stale ash in his mouth, and no amount of blood drinking can curb it.

     Something is irritating his spirit, and he’s not sure what.

     Uraume fields requests both in the form of face-to-face audiences with supplicants and distraught nobles desperate to hold onto their power; Uraume also fields written requests. Sukuna has so far been offered vast swathes of rice paddies, fields, and even cattle. Where he once had to hunt and scrape in the wilds for his food, now he has more than enough in his stores to throw feasts. But he does not do this. Anyone who would be invited to attend would only do so out of fear of how he’d respond should they refuse. Empty fear does little to sweeten his appetite. He has missed the scent and taste of true terror between his teeth.

     It’s frustrating. So, he attends this stupid harvest festival as a guest of the highest honor: the God of Hida. Wielder of Storm and Flame. All manner of ostentatious titles he would never choose for himself, but he bears the weight of them all the same. Even the title, Ryōmen Sukuna, is not a name he chose, but it certainly suits him. It evolved from his deeds. He had been born a cursed and nameless wretch to a mother whose face was not even a blur in his memory. All he knows is the turning point of cognizance in his life, and the bloody present.

     He sits amongst them, an impassive deity, inscrutable as the heavens that cursed him. Something stirs in his chest, makes his heart tighten uncomfortably. Will alone quells it, buries it too deep to be excavated without considerable aid, or his will. That unnamed feeling—that yearning—will be smothered in the salted earth of his heart like everything else.

     The festival itself is lavish, a surprise for such uncertain times, but Sukuna sees these people—these insects—seeking joy when it would be easier to succumb to the hand fate has dealt them: misery and death; their pointless existence snuffed out and forgotten. Sukuna allows himself a smile at the thought. Yes, how fitting.

     He sips his plum wine, smokes his kiseru, and stares at the nameless faces and listens to the empty and pointless chatter. His heart beats sluggishly as the contents of his kiseru finally take hold, dulling the sharpened edges of agitation flaying his nerves.

     There’s a commotion at the entrance to the headman’s hall. Affronted gasps, mocking laughter. Sukuna knows that voice, and suddenly he reaches for the ornate lacquered box at his side, refills his kiseru, and takes a long, slow drag of it.

     She’s naked. She’s always fucking naked. Sukuna doesn’t know or care, but she’s coming at him, her eyes shining with something he thinks is madness, and suddenly the distance is closed, and he feels strong arms go around him, gets a deep inhale of her scent: rosewater and her natural musk. Pleasant, but her arms around him, her fingers threading through his hair, her grating voice droning on and on about loneliness and love and other such drivel—the sharp edges of his nerves lash out before he realizes it.

     Yorozu tumbles onto the floor, her open haori stained with her own blood, a slash mark across her chest, breasts stained in a curtain of crimson spilling from a wound that may as well have been made with a true blade. Sukuna should find this beautiful, but he doesn’t care. He’s just well and truly agitated, now.

     There’s a fearful silence in the room as Yorozu climbs to her knees, swaying from the blood loss. Her face is a frightening rictus of ecstasy, as if she is having a religious experience.

     “Ah, Sukuna!” She sighs in deep satisfaction. “You are the most magnificent thing! An honor to be struck down by your hands. I will spend the rest of our lives making sure you never know loneliness again, beloved.”

     Sukuna frowns, the bridge of his nose wrinkling. Beside him, he feels the chill of Uraume’s cursed energy, like prickling fingers of winter in the form of their aura alone.

     “If you’ve any decorum,” Uraume says in a warning tone, “you will attire yourself in a manner befitting the occasion and not embarrass my lord with your provincial ignorance.”

     Yorozu should be angry, but when one is a powerful sorcerer, words of snarling lapdogs mean precious little. She gives Uraume as maddening smile.

     “Oh, but have you not heard? I too decimated the Sun, Moon, and Stars Squad and have been accorded a place of honor amongst the Fujiwara for this festival. What role do you play here, Uraume? I am to be seated at Lord Sukuna’s right hand, as is my right!”

     Sukuna snorts derisively.

     “You talk too much,” he says in an exasperated tone. “Be seated and be silent.”

     Surprisingly, Yorozu complies, arranging herself like some sort of creature at his side, giving Uraume a simpering smirk while they roll their eyes in obvious disdain and disgust. Sukuna is just thankful the woman is heeding his words and remaining blessedly silent. He focuses his thoughts again.

     The entertainment for the evening is interesting. There is the traditional and ritualistic, which he watches and listens to with half an ear. He feels wholly apart from the festivities, as if he is some sort of interloper and not an honored guest. And all around him is the stench of nervous fear. Fear that he might do something unimaginably horrific should any displease him. He does nothing to dissuade them, but still…all this sweating and kowtowing is unnecessary and grates his nerves.

     It’s not until he sees the performers arranging an interesting set of drums he’s never seen before that he sets his annoyance aside in favor of his curiosity. The players have also changed. Arrayed in strange costumes of grass skirts and anklets with bells. Their skin is as dark as rich, fresh-turned earth; the men have strong and stern miens; but Sukuna detects something submissive about them. They look to one of the other performers.

     Sukuna’s gaze follows theirs as the lead dancer emerges. There’s a thump in his ears like a heartbeat. Her cursed energy blazes around her in a steady flame, moving with a fluidity Sukuna has seen only in himself.

     Who is she?

     Sukuna’s gaze falls like a weight on her and he suppresses a smirk when he sees her shift her body weight onto the balls of her feet. There’s a tinkling of bells from the thick ankle bracelets she wears, but Sukuna knows a tense posture when he sees it. She speaks to the drummers in a tongue he doesn’t recognize, hands animated in giving direction. Sukuna keeps his eyes on her. Skin like burnished umber from what he can see, her breasts high and proud in a bra made complete of cowrie shells. He can also make out the tattoo on her back, a symbol he doesn’t recognize. Is she a criminal of some kind as well? There’s a crown of cowrie shells on her head, affixed to soft buckskin straps that obscure her face from him, but he can make out her lips.

     The dancer grows more interesting by the moment from her appearance alone, her eyes dark and sparkling, her braids falling around her in a sea of black and gold, framing her cowrie-obscured face that he catches glimpses of when she turns: high cheekbones, and sculpted soft nose, and lips shaped like a perfect bow. When she smiles, which is frequently, Sukuna marvels at the perfect whiteness of her teeth, the way her smile seems a power all on its own. There is something inside of her, something yet to be tapped, and he wonders.

     He waits.

     A hush falls over the entire crowd, faces illuminated by the massive bonfire burning in the center of it all.

     Then, the dancer opens her mouth and begins to sing. Sukuna’s brows go up at the power of her voice, a clear trailing of notes and melody in a tongue he doesn’t recognize but somehow the tone of her song reaches him. He understands her meaning, sees it written in her smile as those foreign words slip from her mouth like a lure. She commands the music with skill, the primordial drumbeats whispering to thread with the melody she sings. Sukuna can feel the power in her, that thing inside her that he can’t quite place trembling like a chrysalis on the verge of opening.

     When she begins to dance, Sukuna understands. By his side, Yorozu follows his gaze, notes how he never takes any of his eyes off of the girl. Her lip curls in open disdain and disgust.

     The dance becomes faster, the drums carrying the dancer into a frenzy that is no wilder and more beautiful than a summer storm. Sukuna can see a sheen of sweat on the girl’s back, right between her undulating shoulder blades. She commands her small stage with consummate skill, executing complicated footwork, the bells around her ankles creating a counter rhythm to the drumbeat whipping everyone into an excited and breathless frenzy. Her cowrie shell crown’s straps are flung about her head like a halo when she executes hairpin turns on the balls of her bare feet, rapid and surefooted, affording the crowd a glimpse of the sculpted face beneath. Her feet, stained crimson with henna, tap out a counterrhythm to the drums in one sequence, creating a synergy the likes of which Sukuna himself has never seen nor heard. The drummers are not sorcerers, but there’s something in their playing that bolsters the dancer. The flames climb higher and higher, and Sukuna suddenly finds himself breathing with her. Inhale. Exhale. Controlled diaphragm as she chants and sings louder, not even sounding the least bit winded.

     The crowd feels it too. They clap; they stamp their feet.

     Sukuna can feel the chrysalis inside of her vibrating. Her soul is vibrating. The fire crackles and seems to dance higher and brighter. The drums are in his blood, pumping his heart, making his pulse race with the same breathless anticipation he gets just before a fight.

     “Exquisite,” Sukuna says breathlessly to himself. Yorozu’s brow knits in consternation as she gazes up at him sharply. He’s still watching the dancer. Worse yet, his lower hand resting on the floor beside him is tapping in time to the rhythm. She’s sure he would hum along if he knew the damn melody of the barbaric chanting and yowling the girl is doing.

     The smell of spring and bounty permeates the air as the music swells, and the girl’s feet move faster in more complicated patterns, a test of endurance, an expression of strength. Sweat slicks her dark, umber skin. Sukuna sees the softness of her body, the undulation of her waist and hips, the way every curve moves with its own fluid rhythm and knows she will taste so tender and succulent between his teeth. The salt of her sweat makes him salivate a little at the thought.

     But also, she is gifted with immense power. He can feel it. A latent potential as yet untapped, struggling to be born. All it needed was the right push and it would be free, and she would be formidable. It would be a waste to consume her for the fleeting pleasure of tasting her. Sukuna knows a rare delicacy when he sees one.

     No, he would have to do something else. He would need to find a way to savor her.

     Several times she dances near him, and he tenses, but there is something reverent in the way she looks at him through the curtain of cowrie shells from her crown; the way she smiles at him as if she is inviting him to join her; the way she always seems to be in supplication when she addresses him with the movements of her body. A bow, a flourishing gesture of the hands to highlight the enormity of him, little bits of acknowledgement that she knows him to be the sovereign presence here; the mystery of her being obscured when she turns away from him with fluid grace, and he wants to reach out and seize her, turn her back, and look into her face in full. There’s something sensual about her method of dancing, which he deduces to be a harvest tribute.

     He likes that.

     The music swells and blooms, and her soul blooms with it as she kneels in perfect reverence before him, sitting on her heels, hands pressed delicately to the floor, her forehead on the ground. Her bells and shells are silent. She doesn’t even shiver in his presence. Sukuna looks down at her, fascinating by the rhythm of her slow and deep breaths of exertions. This close, he gets a good look at the tattoo limned in her dark skin. The symbol at her nape interests him, and he almost reaches out to touch it.

     “Hm,” he says thoughtfully. Yorozu sucks her teeth in irritation. “You are a foreigner. What is your name, girl?”

     The dancer doesn’t move.

     “Do I have your permission to rise, my lord?” Her Japanese is accented, and she speaks slowly, but Sukuna understands.

     “You do,” he says, curiosity making him unusually tolerant this evening. The girl rises into a seated kneel, her eyes still respectfully downcast behind the curtain of cowrie shells, full lips parted. Sukuna wants to tear the crown from her head and see her face, but something about it is…hm.

     “My name is Šetû Asiri,” she says, her voice measured through steady breaths. “Though in your culture I suppose Asiri Šetû would be the appropriate introduction.”

     Sukuna tilts his head. “Take off your headdress.” He orders. Asiri stiffens briefly, momentarily taken aback by the bluntness of his command. Behind her, her drummers are a knot of tension and anxiety. Sukuna’s reputation is fearsome, and no doubt whatever caravans brought them here from their lands leagues and leagues away have been rife with myths about his whims.

     Asiri’s hands go to the cowrie shell crown, and slowly she pulls it from her head, braids tumbling free, her face bared in full. She keeps her eyes downcast, black lashes cresting on her high cheekbones. Her expression is neutral.

     And Sukuna cannot smell her terror or fear. Either she does not know him for what and who he is, or she does not care…or she’s a fool.

     Alternately, she can be as mad as Yorozu, but he highly doubts she is. He does not see it in the lines of her body, soft and sculpted by years of dance.

     “Look at me,” he says. There’s another tense silence following those words. Asiri breathes in and lifts her face and gaze to meet his. Eyes darker than forest pools past midnight, glimmering like polished obsidian. Sukuna sees the inscrutable void of the moonless and starless nights in her eyes. Eclipse eyes. Asiri holds his gaze steadily. Sukuna’s lower eyes flit to her neck, collared by a cowrie shell choker with pretty silver coins, and he watches as two beads of sweat roll down, pooling in the hollow of her clavicle before rolling down the plush curve of her breasts. He licks his lips before he realizes it.

     “Did my performance please you?” She asks steadily. Sukuna smirks but doesn’t answer. It is answer enough.

     “Where are you from?” He asks. Asiri hesitates.

     “Across the sea,” she says quietly. “Beyond the Silk Road. I would need a map of the world to show it to you.”

     Sukuna narrows his eyes, makes a pensive hum. Asiri remains kneeling, and the assembled crowd holds its collective breath. Sukuna steps down from the dais, onto the soft moss she’s conjured around herself with her dancing. The heat of the bonfire illuminates her skin, and his nostrils flare as he breathes deep. Her sweat is sweet, but he smells something else…a fragrance heady and warm, like night-blooming jasmine.

     Mm.

     “You may go,” he says. “You and your troupe may enjoy the festivities…with my blessing.”

     Asiri allows herself a small smile, pressing herself into an obeisant kneel, forehead to the floor. The shells that adorn her body click prettily.

     Behind Sukuna, Yorozu seethes.

     “Thank you, my lord,” Asiri breathes. She waits for him to be seated and rises from her kneel. Sukuna watches her return to her troupe, the musicians murmuring in that strange tongue, whispering and shooting nervous glances in his direction. He should kill them, but they are foreigners, and he foregoes his usual punishments. It will not do to profane these rituals with blood. Even he will not deign to be so greedy and blasphemous this night.

     “Did you see the size of him?” Ajani’s voice is rife with shock and not a little horror. “What manner of creature is he that they would worship him as a god?”

     Šetû smiles from behind her changing screen as her cousin continues to go on and on about the cultures and customs of the people, they find themselves performing for. It has been a long and arduous journey for their little family, but Šetû knows this place is where they can truly make a life for themselves.

     Away from the horrors plaguing their homeland. The horrors that took everything from them but the talent in their skulls.

     “I don’t know,” she says. “I thought he was kind of handsome. And he’s clearly a powerful man!”

     Ajani sucks his teeth in disgust. “You are too kind, Haji,” he says. “Remember what those priests said? He eats people.”

     Šetû shrugs into her abaya, a silky shift of oceanic blue, the collar and edges of the wide sleeves stiff with golden thread embroidery. She keeps on her dancing bells and places the cowrie shell crown reverently in her trunk. Then, she surveys herself in the shined pane of a beaten mirror, marveling at her reflection.

     “I’m sure those were just the frightened exaggerations of peasants,” Šetû says as she slips into a pair tabi and geta, humble gifts from the leaders of the village. She had been surprised at the taboo of displaying one’s naked feet in public. The four-armed man had been barefoot, even outside. Perhaps these customs only apply to their living gods.

     She steps from behind the changing screen, heaving a sigh.

     Their troupe, Na Waje, consists of her, her two brothers, Amadou and Yusuf, and two of her cousins, Ajani and Ajamu. For the last few years, it has been only them since their grandmother and uncle passed. Šetû cannot count how many foreign lands she has traveled across in the years since they packed their entire lives in their painted wagon filled with their instruments, clothing, and supplies, and their sturdy Mongolian steed to pull it, a gift of the Khan for their rousing performance under their endless sky. It has been hard going, but Šetû will not trade it for anything.

     Still, having stone walls and a proper bed would not go amiss.

     Šetû makes her way outside of their tent, which they set up on the outskirts of the village near their wagon and horse. Amadou has already secured dinner for the evening as he and Yusuf had gone hunting and fishing much earlier that day. The smell of roasting rabbits seasoned with the meager spices they’ve managed to hoard for themselves is enough to make Šetû’s mouth water. Yusuf has secured sacks of rice, and a pot of it bubbles over an additional fire.

     “Have any of you had any luck with the locals?” Šetû asks as she takes a seat on one of the logs arrayed around the campfire. Yusuf pokes at the rice with a grunt. Šetû laughs.

     “They worship a four-armed man who looks like he eats people,” Yusuf says with a sour look on his face. “I’d rather not make friends with such a superstitious bunch, if you don’t mind.”

     Amadou, the oldest of all of them, and their somewhat de facto leader, laughs.

     “Perhaps you should consider taking more time to get to know them. We are the foreigners in this land.”

     “We’re foreigners in every land,” Yusuf grumbles. There’s a collective groan as the twins come to join them and Yusuf’s sour face somehow—against all odds—grows even more pinched.

     “Here we go,” Ajani murmurs with a grin as he sits next to Šetû, who hides her smile in her mug of tea.

     “I was a djali!” Yusuf snaps. “A true scholar of the craft! I served noble families and was respected in every corner of the Mali Empire! I wore silks and walked in sandals made of the softest leather and exquisite beadwork. I was slated to be—”

     “—given an honor at the right hand of the King himself; we know!” The others finish in unison. There is a sizzling sound as fat drips into the fire from the roasting rabbits. Another pot holds a rich stew. Since coming to this foreign shore, finding ingredients that best remind them of home has been hard. But they’ve made good coin this month and so their supplies are plentiful.

     “Speaking of strange customs,” Ajamu says, gathering their bowls to serve rice and stew. “Did you see the woman next to him? Completely naked! Is that how these people celebrate the harvest?! And if she is his wife, how…immodest!”

     Šetû snorts into her tea. “No,” she says. “I saw the way the people were looking at her. I’m guessing nudity at public events is frowned upon even here, Ajamu.”

     “I didn’t mind the view,” Ajani says, earning an elbow to the ribs from his twin. He grins shamelessly. “She definitely had all of her best qualities on display.”

     “Yeah, and was practically ready to rip Šetû’s throat out when that giant monster spoke to her for a few minutes.”

     Šetû’s cheeks go hot. In truth she hadn’t noticed the nude woman’s venomous looks during the entire encounter. She’d been too afraid of offending Hida’s local deity. She thinks about the performance again: dust beneath her henna-stained feet, lost in the rhythm of her breathing to match the breath of the earth, her ears filled with the ancient rhythms of her homeland; four crimson eyes, glowing as bright as the flame she danced around, with a hunger she could not name; her head pressed to the ground in an obeisant kneel, a glimpse of very large bare feet, and thick bands of black ink around the ankles.

     Look at me.

     Šetû remembers looking up, so far her throat arched. He had been massive, looking down at her with a curiosity that reminded her of a tiger deciding on whether or not the lamb in its grasp would be a toy or food…or both. She remembers his face, black ink limned into the skin in sharp, thorny lines, emphasizing the divine sculpture of his high cheekbones, his nose, his strong chin.

     Four eyes, glowing like coals in the breeze, flaring bright.

     And the heat and energy that she felt from him had been oppressive. Not only was he massive, but whatever power he held was just as big. He frightened her.

     But more than that, he intrigued her.

     “Šetû are you daydreaming again?” Ajani asks, handing her a bowl. Šetû blinks slowly, a waking dreamer pulled from a reverie she had yet to finish processing. She takes the bowl with gratitude.

     “Well, it’s night,” she says. “So, no. I was just…thinking, is all.”

     Ajani’s brow furrows with concern, but he says nothing, taking his seat beside her. For a while, the family eats in silence, enjoying the bounty prepared by the elder cousins.

     “The headman gave us a gift for our performance,” Amadou says, breaking the silence as they eat. “A cask of their rice wine. I say we breach it tonight in celebration.”

     “There’s five of us,” Yusuf grumbles. “How are we to finish an entire cask of wine in one evening?”

     “Well, there’s no room for it in the wagons so we’re going to have to try,” Amadou says back with a smile. “I’d say we’ve earned a night of drunken respite! And the festival continues for another day. We’ve been permitted to participate in the rituals and festivities freely after our performance tomorrow.”

     Šetû feels her mind beginning to fade, Amadou’s voice turning into a drone. That oppressive energy is back, spilling into their camp like a chilling fog.

     Hida’s god is here.

     It’s frightening that none of them so much as heard a twig snap, but the conversation dies down as the four-armed deity’s shadow falls over them. Šetû shivers from his presence. There is something sinister about it, and whatever it is…it’s hungry. At that thought, she has an idea. She sets aside her bowl, jumping to her feet. She motions for the others to do the same.

     “Šetû,” Amadou whispers, “you’re the one who speaks their language best. Does he mean us harm?”

     “No, I don’t think so,” she answers. “But we should all kneel out of respect.”

     And so they do, and the god’s brows raise up in surprise. The youth beside him, whose presence feels like the first, dire fingertips of the bitterest winter, smirks.

     “My lord,” Šetû says from her kneel. “It is a surprise to see you here. How may we serve?”

     The god tilts his head, says nothing for a long while. Šetû’s knees are beginning to ache.

     “You may rise,” he says at last, as if he had been deliberating on something and finally came to a decision. “And resume your meal.”

     Šetû breathes a sigh of relief as they all climb to their feet and return to their seats. Šetû lingers a moment and gives the god a friendly smile.

     “Would you and your companion like to join us?” She asks. “We’ve plenty to spare, and we were just discussing breaching a cask of wine. Far more than needed for the five of us.”

     Here, in the full light of their own cookfire, Šetû takes an opportunity to look upon Hida’s living god. She isn’t quite sure what to make of him, really, and his expression is inscrutable. For a moment, there is only the crackling of the fire, a log pops, and the subtle hiss of moisture steaming out of it in the heat. Amadou’s jaw is tense, his body taut. Of all of them, he is the only one with any real combat prowess, as he once served in the city guard back in their homeland. He and Yusuf and the twins have protected them from the onslaught of bandits, gangsters, ruffians, and all manner of unsavory attackers over the years. They will not let Šetû come to harm.

     The god smirks, and Šetû is reminded of the first time she ever saw an animal slaughtered. His smile is the blade drawn across the trembling throat, spilling crimson vitae in its wake. She shivers and his nostrils flare.

     “You would offer me a seat by your fire?” He asks. “Do you know who I am?”

     Šetû blinks in obvious confusion.

     “Are you not…are you not the deity being honored at this festival? Ryōmen Sukuna?” She asks, genuinely puzzled. “It would be rude not to offer you a place by our humble fire. It would honor us, in fact.”

     The god—Sukuna—crosses his lower arms and Šetû grits her teeth on a surprised sound but her troupe is not so subtle. There is a subtle gasp of shock. She hadn’t noticed his physique up close before, but it is truly a marvel.

     “What’s this?” Sukuna asks, peering into the cook pot. Yusuf looks nervous but Amadou places a hand on his shoulder.

     “Well,” he says, steeling his courage much to the amusement of the mountain of a man before him. “In our homeland it’s called…naman sa.” He glances at Šetû, who smiles.

     “I guess the closest translation would be beef stew…but we didn’t have any beef on hand, and the local butcher would not sell to us. So we used rabbits we hunted.” She explains. Two crimson eyes regard her and she tries to maintain her composure under the weight of his gaze. A low rumble sounds in his chest, a sound that reminds her of a tiger purring. Pensive. Ajani and Ajamu gulp, clearly fearful.

     “I will join you,” Sukuna says and there is a collective breath of relief.

     From there, the strangest of meetings unfolds.

     Sukuna arrays himself like a king by the fire. Amadou moves to serve him, but he holds up a forestalling hand. Amadou’s brows go up in silent question. Was he not hungry?

     “I want her to serve me,” Sukuna says, pointing at Šetû who startles, but rises quickly to do so. Amadou’s brow knits in a frown but at his younger sister’s insistence he hands her the bowl. Carefully, she scoops heaps of rice into the bowl, then ladles a helping of the spicy rabbit stew over it. Sukuna’s lower eyes watch, going a little wide when he sees the stew on the rice but then takes the bowl from her proffered hands, admiring how she kneels to serve it to him. His large fingers brush her hands and heat blooms in her cheeks before she moves away to sit beside Ajani.

     “Hashi?” Uraume asks cooly. Amadou’s brows knit again, and he nods, fetching a fresh set of chopsticks for Sukuna to use. He doesn’t hesitate, the god of Hida begins to devour the food immediately.

     Everyone sits in silence, breathing slow, wondering just what they’d done to deserve his attention this evening.

     Sukuna clears his bowl in record time. Amadou has retrieved the cask of rice wine, and pours Sukuna a cup, which he uses to wash down his meal.

     Sukuna grins, eyes heavy-lidded, like a man sated.

     “That was delicious,” he purrs. “Which one of you made this?”

     Amadou bows. “It was me, my lord,” he says in his halting Japanese, speaking slowly. Of all of them, Šetû is the best at picking up languages, and they’ve not been in the country long. “Though it is my sister who crafts the recipes.”

     Sukuna glances at her again and she tries not to jump.

     “Uraume,” he says. “Get the recipe from this one.”

     “Of course, Lord Sukuna,” Uraume says, affording Šetû a smile that can only be described as chilly. She chews her lip nervously.

     “Well?” Sukuna grins, and they tense. “Don’t stop on my account. Do whatever it is you do when the locals aren’t bothering you.”

     The troupe glances at one another in confusion. How did they carry on when they’d been warned how dangerous this man is? That he has a capricious temperament and kills on a whim?

     The wine.

     It doesn’t take long, but the wine flows, and eventually, tongues loosen and tension eases enough for conversation to flow. Out of respect for Sukuna and his companion, they converse in Japanese to include them in the conversation.

     “How is it you wound up here?” Sukuna asks. “And what was it you were singing earlier?”

     Amadou smiles. “We travel all over, performing for coin, doing odd jobs. Our homeland was ravaged by war, and we had to leave. This may be the furthest we’ve ever gone in the world.”

     Sukuna chuckles. “Tch. And now that you’ve come here, what do you think?”

     Amadou is silent. Yusuf, however, snorts in disdain. Sukuna’s crimson eyes focus on him, and he startles like a cat in a spray of water. Ajani and Ajamu laugh when he shoots them a glare.

     “Are all the locals so rude to foreigners?” Yusuf asks bitterly. Sukuna tilts his head with a grin.

     “Count yourself lucky that it is only the ignorant peasants who are rude to you,” he says and there’s something about his tone that sends a chill down their spines. A threat? A warning? It can be either, but his smile is too sharp, like a butcher’s knife freshly-whetted on the stone. Even a caress will cut.

     “I suppose you have the right of it,” Yusuf concedes. “Still, it’s something to hire us to perform and then force us to linger on the outskirts of the village. To have fallen so far—”

     “What he means to say is…things could stand to be a bit more hospitable,” Amadou interrupts quickly. “But it is a beautiful country. Reminds me of some parts of our homeland.”

     Sukuna recalls the brief conversation with Šetû and smirks.

     “Come to my estate,” he says. “All of you. I could use some entertainment and new flavors to try.”

     Yusuf looks visibly nonplussed but Amadou smiles.

     “Truly? We would be honored to accept but…” Amadou hesitates, glances back toward the village. “We have obligations here. Would we still be welcome after the festival is done?”

     Sukuna’s grin is sleek, and one of the eyes on the bone plate of his face settles on Šetû and she chews her lip again.

     “I don’t see why not,” he says laconically. “You will be paid for your services. A great deal better than these provincial superstitious idiots. Aside,” he turns the full weight of his gaze on Šetû again. “I believe what you have to offer is very interesting.”

     Amadou frowns. “And what do you mean by that, my lord?” He asks in a tone that dares to reveal a bit of steel. Sukuna grins then, and this time it chills all around the fire. Uraume smirks as if they know something the others do not.

     “I have never seen art like yours before,” Sukuna drawls. “And it would please me to have you present it to me away from…” He gestures vaguely toward the village. Amadou seems settled by the explanation, but he shares a brief glance with Yusuf who seems to understand what just transpired.

     “It would be our highest honor, my lord,” Amadou says, bowing his head.

     There’s the sound of bells tinkling as Šetû shifts in her seat.

     “We should play Hankali,” she says with a grin. Amadou and Yusuf look momentarily startled, but Ajani and Ajamu seize on that opportunity.

     “Great idea!” Ajani says, getting up. “I’ll grab my tama, eh?”

     Šetû claps her hands together excitedly, kicking her feet and making the ankle bells jingle prettily. Sukuna watches her with an amusement one would expect from a normally impassive deity.

     “What is this…” he thinks for a moment, then says the word slowly. “Hankari?”

     “Hankali,” Šetû corrects with a grin. “It’s a children’s game we usually play after a good night. A test of rhythm, memory, and word association.”

     Sukuna snorts. “And how is it played?”

     The little family gathers around as Ajani returns with a small, two-headed drum affixed with thick, gutstring ropes, and a curved stick with a flattened tip. He wears the drum slung on his shoulder and carried in his armpit; and it sits high, almost too high for it to be reasonably played by hand. Sukuna watches unblinking as he tests the drum, tapping out a rapid series of syncopated rhythms with only the stick and his fingertips. Sukuna’s eyes narrow when he sees the subtle flex of his arm, tightening the gutstring ropes and causing the drum to sound out different notes.

     As if it is talking. Sukuna tilts his head, his curiosity getting the better of him.

     “Teach me,” he says to Šetû, who beams at him as if he is an old friend and not the fearsome and rightly feared sorcerer that holds sway in these lands.

     Sukuna watches as she moves her hands, gesturing to Ajani to play.

     “So,” she explains, “we start by establishing a rhythm…”

     Sukuna listens, watches as Šetû’s hands move, tapping her lap, clapping her hands, and then snapping both fingers. Sukuna’s brow furrows, listening. The drum, her hands, two counter rhythms locking in to become a sentence, a phrase. Sukuna begins to breathe in time with the music; it’s just like her performance earlier in the evening. He’s caught in the rhythm, tapping in time with one finger before he even realizes he’s doing it.

     Šetû begins to sing, her voice coming out honey sweet in that strange tongue Sukuna doesn’t understand, introducing yet another element to the music. Sukuna focuses on her hands, but he hears the men respond to her call, and he smirks.

     It doesn’t take long for him to pick up on the pattern, letting them play a round where they switch to Japanese, listing off words that are commonly associated with one another. At the end of each turn, Šetû returns to the calling chorus, and Sukuna responds. Even Uraume who is usually so reserved seems to relax to the music.

     And now he’s having fun in a way he did not expect.

     Several times, people are knocked out of the game for missing the rhythm, hesitating, or saying a word that doesn’t match the round robin. Sukuna laughs uproariously when he realizes the point of the game.

     “It helps teach you our language,” he says. Šetû beams again.

     “Got it in one,” she says. “We’ve gone begging for translators and native speakers in our travels, but the best way we learn is by simply immersing in the language. And then we use Hankali to practice.”

     Sukuna smirks. “You’re passing fair at it already, and your brother isn’t a bad cook.” Although there’s a sense that he doesn’t believe for a moment that Šetû isn’t the smartest one in the bunch. He finds her brothers to be irritatingly suspicious and antsy, but Šetû has exhibited a calm in his presence he isn’t used to; not only that…she has welcomed him.

     “My lord…” Uraume stirs by his side. He seems startled from his thoughts, eyes cutting downward to regard them. “We must depart if we’re to prepare for travel tomorrow.”

     Sukuna sighs and waves a hand.

     “Yeah, yeah,” he says dismissively. He rises to his full height, and all rise with him. They bow to him as he turns away to leave. He spares a glance over his shoulder.

     “I expect to see you all at the shrine after this festival is over.” He says and Amadou keeps his eyes dutifully downcast.

     “Of course, my lord,” he says, willing obeisance into his tone. Sukuna smirks smugly, pleased with the outcome. Uraume bows one last time before they depart.

     “My lord appreciates your hospitality,” they say cooly.

     And with that, the pair depart. For a while, Šetû watches them go until they vanish around a bend in the path, leading toward the thick forest, vanishing like mist.

     “Anyone else almost shit themselves in terror?” Ajani asks when he’s sure Sukuna and Uraume are out of earshot as well as line of sight.

     “Wallahi, each of the man’s hands were the size of Amadou’s head, I thought for sure he was going to kill us all,” Ajamu says, earning nervous but relieved laughter from the group.

     “And the way he kept looking at Šetû…” Yusuf snorts. “Like he wanted to have her served up on a platter or something.”

     Šetû’s cheeks flush with heat. “Please, he was probably just lost in thought or something. Plus, I’m the one who speaks the language best. And if you blockheads would actually stop acting like a bunch of posturing peacocks, we’d be able to get the locals to be more welcoming!”

     “Tch! If his mouth hadn’t been closed, he would be drooling like a starved dog.” Yusuf says and Šetû laughs. She doesn’t quite believe it herself, but she remembers the weight of Sukuna’s gaze, the way the crimson irises seemed to gleam like drops of blood, rippling with something she couldn’t name. A hunger with an unending maw and gullet, one that will inevitably swallow her up if she dares get too close.

     She pushes such thoughts from her mind.

     “Well, in any case, we’ve accepted his invitation,” she says. “We can’t back out. Something tells me he’s not the type who takes kindly to one going back on their word.”

     Amadou makes a pensive sound, resting his chin on his hands.

     “Yes,” he agrees. “We’ll finish up the festival tomorrow and then head to the shrine. I don’t think Sukuna means us harm. He could have easily harmed us right here if that was his aim.”

     Yusuf sucks his teeth in annoyance.

     “And would you wander into the mouth of a tiger if it promised not to close its jaws on your head? Amadou, the man is dangerous. He had an aura of evil about him that chills the blood. You cannot mean to accept his invitation!”

     Amadou sighs. “Of course I do, Yusuf. He has promised payment, and we’re low on coin as is. Our wagon wheel will need mending soon, and our food stores are in dire need of restock. Of course I will accept the invitation, what other choice is there?”

     Yusuf grumbles but no retort comes to gainsay his brother. Thus settled, Amadou declares the night over. Together, siblings and cousins clean up the camp, douse the fire, and retreat to their yurt. Inside is a snug fit, but it’s warm. Ajani and Ajamu decide to take the first watch.

     “What do you think we should expect at the shrine?” Šetu murmurs from her pallet. Amadou snorts.

     “More of the same: servants, a few priests and priestesses, and Sukuna himself, I’d imagine. Likely he’ll only want us there for the night, so it should be safe.”

     Šetû thinks about the way Sukuna’s crimson eyes flared with a hunger that made her shiver to the marrow. Safe is not the word she’d use, and yet she gets the distinct feeling his invitation is sincere. Her eyes drift close, and she catches the faintest whiff of something burning as she slips into sleep.

𓇢𓆸 Masterlist 𖤓 Next

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☾ ━━━ PAIRING: BANG CHAN X READER X SEUNGMIN ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, VAMPIRE! CHAN AND SEUNGMIN, HUMAN!FEM!READER, ORAL SEX (F. REC), BLOOD, MENSTRUAL CYCLE/PAIN, FOOD MENTIONS, BOOB PLAY, HICKEYS, TEASING, FANG MENTIONS, AFTERCARE ☾ ━━━ WC: 1.2K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Y/n hated it. She woke up in the middle of the night from the cramping of her period. Rolling over in the sheets, trying to get comfortable again but it wasn't helping. 

     Chan was still at the studio. Bad habit of his he would probably never quit. She rolled over to the side of the bed. Grabbing her phone to ask him to pick up her favorites on his way home before going into her messages with Seungmin. Chan, she understood why he wasn't in their bed. Seungmin, she had zero clue where he was

Y/n💋: where are you 😢 Minnie🩸❤️: what's wrong bubs?  Y/n💋: my period came and Chan’s at work  Minnie🩸❤️: poor baby. Do you want your regulars? Y/n💋: I already texted Chan to get them on his way home. Can you come and give me cuddles? Minnie🩸❤️: I’ll be right in. I was just taking pictures of the moon

     She heard the front door open and close. This is what she got for dating not one, but two vampires. Both had no concept of sleep so they were awake all night while she slept. But it definitely made life interesting. 

     It took less than a minute for Seungmin to get up to their room. Slowly opening the door before crawling into bed behind her, hands wrapping around her waist and rubbing her lower stomach. 

     “Bad ones?” he kissed her shoulder 

     “Mhm,” Y/n whined as another hit her

     It was silent for a moment. Seungmin rubbed her stomach and provided some heat to help a little bit. 

     “I heard orgasms help with menstrual pain,” Seungmin stated out of nowhere

     “That’s a weird way to say you're hungry,” Y/n giggled

     “Not my fault it smells good,” Seungmin slowly rolled her onto her back as he sat up a bit, “I can always take from somewhere else.” his lips slowly kissed her neck, “didn't wanna let good blood go to waste.”

     His hands wandered down to rub her legs before placing a gentle kiss on her lips. Y/n gladly returned it as she gripped his T-shirt. Making out with her boyfriend took her attention off the discomfort in her stomach. Hands moved up to massage the area to massage there.

     “Min,” Y/n said as she pulled away from their kiss

     “Yeah?” he asked, placing kisses on her neck.

     “Let’s try,” she said

     “Try what?” he asked, looking up at her

     “Eat me out.”

     “You sure?”

     “Positive. Just grab some towels.”

     Seungmin smiled and pecked her lips before rushing out of the room to grab some towels. Y/n took the time to strip her pajamas before he got back in the room. Seungmin smirked as he moved her to set the towels under her. 

     “Eager little puppy,” Seungmin chuckled as he tossed his shirt off before crawling over her, feverishly pushing his lips onto her. 

     Y/n returned the kiss, holding onto the nape of his neck. His hands ran up her body, from her hips up to her breasts. Groping them and running his thumbs over her nipples. A moan of pleasure left her lips before another wave of cramps hit, making her shrink into herself. 

     “Min,” Y/n whined into the kiss

     “Hurt baby?” Seungmin pulled his lips away from her as she nodded. 

     Without another word, he moved down in between her legs. Pushing them open and immediately diving in. Licking from her entrance up before cleaning any blood that had dripped out of her. Y/n shuddered against the feeling of his tongue. Seungmin smiled to himself as his tongue pushed its way into her. Y/n moaned as his nose brushed against her clit.

     “Taste so fucking good,” Seungmin moaned as he pulled away for a moment before diving back in. 

     Y/m rolled her hips against him as his hands moved up to grope her breasts. The build-up was for sure helping dull the pain of her cramps. It also distracted her from the front door opening and closing again. 

     A moment later, Chan walked in and stood at the doorway. It wasn’t unusual for any of them to walk in on the others having sex or masturbating. He was a bit concerned knowing Y/n was on her period, but when the scent of blood hit his senses, he could care less.

     Chan set the bag of things he had picked up from the store down next to the bed before kneeling on the bed and attaching his plump lips to her, one of his arms wrapping around her waist. Y/n melted once she felt his plump lips. 

     “Minnie making you feel good baby?” Chan asked after he pulled away, lips hovering close to hers

     “Yes,” Y/n moaned out as she grabbed onto his arm as Seungmin’s tongue grazed a particular spot. 

     “Letting him clean all the blood out of you? Gonna let me have some too?”

     Y/n nodded before Chan brought his lips back onto hers. His hand moved down to play with her clit. Seungmin moved lower so Chan’s fingers had some room. 

     The knot in her stomach that had replaced the cramping pain tightened more with the added fingers on her clit. Her hips bucked against them both. Seungmin's hands moved down to hold her hips down as both worked her to her first orgasm. 

     Neither of them stopped their movements as she went through her high. Seungmin blood away. Wiping any bit of stray blood from his face and then licking it off his hands. Chan moved his fingers off her clit and pulled away from her lips as well. 

     “Taste good, Min?” Chan asked as Y/n rested against his chest

     “Find out for yourself, old man.”

     The two vampires switched their positions. Chan threw both her legs over his shoulders before his tongue dove into her. She let out a mumbled “fuck” at the feeling, still quite sensitive from her first orgasm with Seungmin, who was currently laying next to her playing with her breasts and marking the side of her neck with hickeys. Both men seemed to be enjoying the taste of the blood. She almost wondered if it had a different taste from the blood they typically took from her veins. 

     Y/n felt Seungmin’s fangs graze her skin a bit. The touch made her shiver against the bed, toes curling as Chan’s nose nudged her clit. The action combined with the tips of Seungmins fangs teasing her pulse point. 

     “Gonna come,” Y/n moaned, both vampires working harder till she hit her second orgasm. Chan lapped up her release and blood mixture like Seungmin did while the ladder fangs sunk into her neck as soon as she started arching off the bed.

     Seungmin pulled his teeth out of her first and licked the wound as the older pulled away from her cunt. Both moved to cuddle and just provide affection while she came back down.

     “Feel better, bubs?”

     “Yeah,” Y/n nodded, “Wanna go back to sleep.”

     “Let’s get you cleaned first, baby.”

     Chan took the initiative of picking her up and taking her to the bathroom to clean up while Seungmin cleaned up the bed. “Tell us again if it starts hurting, okay?” Chan said as he kissed her forehead     “If it gets both of you to eat me out again, I will.”

     “We can’t let good blood go to waste, can we?”

     “You sound like Seungmin.”

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© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Stress Relief | Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Katsuki Bakugo x AFAB Reader 💋

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: A quick unedited one shot where the reader is stressed and Katsuki decides to help her de-stress :) Nothing complicated here, just sexy vibes.

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, spicy scenes, fingering, lemon, Smut, Dirty Talk, Hurt/Comfort

It’s dark in your dorm when Katsuki Bakugo slips through the unlocked door. You’re starting to fall asleep when you see the door open a crack, the light from the hallway illuminating his pale features with its glow.

You’re exhausted and not in the mood to talk to him, not after the day you had. You glare at him from your bed as he quietly shuts the door behind you.

“Come on, babe. Don’t give me that look.” He groans, padding over to your bed and slipping beneath the covers beside you. “You know that I can’t take it easy on you when we spar. You don’t get special treatment in class just because you’re my girlfriend.”

You turn away from him to face the wall, ignoring him. Not only had Katsuki hit you with an over the top, uncalled for special move in training – it was a move you had never seen before. You had thought the two of you shared absolutely everything. You were almost at the end of your third year at UA, chasing graduation. For the past year and a half, you two had been daydreaming about starting a hero agency together. If Katsuki had hid an insane special move from you only to bring it out in a simple training match…what else was he hiding?

“I know that look.” He says as he wraps his arms around you. He’s so strong and sturdy you can’t help but melt into him. “I didn’t tell you about the move because I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought you would be more excited about it, honestly. Come on, babe. Don’t be mad.”

You sigh, your whole body sore from where he walloped you with his overenthusiastic explosion earlier that day. Finally, you acknowledge him. “I’ve showed you all of my special moves – even the secret ones. And yet…you kept this insane move a secret even from me. Sometimes I don’t think you trust me.”

He’s quiet for a moment, rolling your words around in his mind. When he does speak, there’s a tinge of hurt in his voice. A vulnerability that only a few people will ever hear form Katsuki Bakugo. “Babe…I didn’t realize I was keeping it a secret. I was really excited to show you. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t trust you. You’re the only person who knows absolutely all of me. You gotta believe that.” He squeezes his arms lightly around you, reinforcing the words.

You huff with frustration. “Yeah, I know, okay? I’m just really achy and pissed off that you decided to debut some flashy move while fighting me. Why couldn’t you unleash it on Kaminari or Kirishima?”

He buries his face in the back of your neck. “I was tryin’ to impress ya, is all.”

“I’d be a lot more impressed if you didn’t blast the hell out of me during a training exercise.” You try to scoot away from him and end up stretching out your muscles at an odd angle. You cry out softly at the pain.

“Did I hurt ya that bad?” He says, concern lacing his words. “You’re made of such tough stuff…but maybe I took things a little too far in the ring.” His hands run across your body soothingly, trying to rub out any aches and pains that he may have caused during your sparring.

“It’s fine. Honestly, it was a really stressful day and your new ‘special move’ was just the icing on top of the cake. I just need it to be the weekend already.” You sigh out. The past few weeks have been so stressful at school and at your work study. You’re tired and overworked, and you could really just use a break. Katsuki unleashing the full force of his explosion hell on you in class was definitely not something you were mentally or physically prepared for – all you want to do now is rest.

“I know you’ve been real stressed lately. Sorry if I added to it.” He mumbles into your shoulder, leaving light kisses along your skin. You shiver when you feel the tip of his tongue dart out to trace a shape on the sensitive skin of your clavicle.

“Hey…you know what we haven’t done in a while?” His voice suddenly brightens and his hand snakes down to grip your stomach lightly over your shirt. “I can think of a great way to give you a good dose of stress relief.” He smooths his hand down the plane of your stomach and finds the hem of your shirt, dipping underneath the thin fabric so that he can fan out his fingers across your delicate skin. “Let me take your stress away with my fingertips, sweetheart.” He begins to run his fingers back and forth under the waistband of your sweatpants. The sensual touch causes a sparking sensation to gather down in your core. Everywhere he touches, goose bumps pop up on your skin.

“…Kats.” You say, warningly. The walls of the dorm are notoriously thin, and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of one of Mr. Aizawa’s lectures about safe sex, creating a culture of respect, the dorm rules, etc.

“Just keep quiet. I’ll make it quick as I can. No one ever has to know.” He leans in and starts to plant slow, open mouthed kisses along your neck, his fingers dipping lower and into dangerous territory. He brings the palm of his hand to rest right above your panties and slowly starts to circle your clit from over the delicate cotton fabric.

“Oh.” You breathe out, your body coming back to life as Katsuki touches you. He’s always so direct, so sure of himself. His approach to sex is reflective of that – don’t beat around the bush, just get to the heart of the pleasure.

“Yeah?” He whispers wetly before nipping at your earlobe. “You like when I touch you here?”

“Duh.” You hiss through your teeth. Katsuki pulls his hand away from your pussy and you almost cry out at the loss of contact. He brings his ring and middle fingers to his mouth and sucks, coating them in a thick sheen of saliva. He then moves to touch you again, this time sliding his hand beneath your panties for better access. When his warm, wet fingers hit your clit – your body absolutely lights up. All aches and pains are gone – its just you, Katsuki, and his magical fingers.

He starts out slow, circling around your clit until your grinding your butt back into him. He loves this – spooning you while he gets you off. He loves a good power dynamic, and this is no exception. In this position, Katsuki has most of the control. He likes that you know it, too.

He circles your clit lazily for a while, letting you get a feel for it. As you start to buck into him, he decides to speed things up, dipping his fingers low so he can gather some slick from your entrance before sliding them back up to work more on your clit. Within seconds you’re begging for him to get inside you, and he obliges – slipping a single digit into you slowly while giving your clit the attention it deserves with his thumb. He lets you hump his hand, finding the angles that work best with your body and causing you to see stars.

It’s when he slips a second finger into you that you start to get close. You feel his cock harden against the curve of your ass, eager to please. He starts leaving a trail of hot hickies along your shoulder – sucking in your sensitive skin between his sharp teeth and then kissing over marks he leaves behind. The combination of sensations is far too much, and you feel yourself get closer and closer to falling off the edge. The way Katsuki's fingers are slipping, sliding, stretching...it's far too much. You want to groan in pleasure, but you keep your mouth shut as best you can.

His fingers pump in and out of you with practiced skill, and you clap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from moaning out his name for all of the dorm to hear.

“Kats!” You say in a muffled voice from behind your hand. “Kats, I’m close.”

That’s all he needs to hear. He brings his fingers out of you to focus on your clit for a bit, drawing circles and triangles and figure eights and whatever other fuckin’ shapes he knows how to make around your sensitive bundle of nerves until your legs are shaking. Then, when he feels he’s gotten you hot and bothered enough, he slides two fingers deep into your cunt, flicking them in an attempt to hit your G spot.

And holy shit he does.

Katsuki hits that delicious spongy spot deep inside you and your body jerks with pleasure. He smirks at the reaction, proud of himself for figuring you out so quickly. He hits the spot again and again and again until your pussy tenses up and falls into one of the finest orgasms you’ve had in your life. You cum so easily, your whole body shaking as he takes you apart with nothing but his fingertips. The waves of the orgasm hit you full force, your body tingling and jerking in time with his targeted movements. He lets you ride out your orgasm, mumbling quiet praise into your ear as you grind through your high.

“That’s my good girl, so perfect for me. Cumming on my fingertips so nicely. Fuck babe. Fuck you’re gorgeous. Keep cumming for me please.”

His words are just as sexy as his hand down your pants, and you can’t believe how lucky you are to have landed someone as hot as Katsuki.

When you finally finish, he slides his hand out of your panties and pulls you close. He plants a hundred kisses across your neck and shoulder, happy to have been of service. You lay in silence for a moment – you catching your breath, him glowing with pride at a job well done.

“Did I manage to take away some of your stress?” He whispers cheekily. The damn idiot is so proud of himself, as always.

“S-sure.” You try to sound calm, cool and collected but the break in your voice is enough. Katsuki knows that he achieved exactly what he set out to do. You melt back into his chest and start to doze. What a day it's been! You're too tired to speak anymore, but you manage to squeak out: “Thanks babe. Love you.”

“Love ya, too.” He says, settling in under the covers and planting a last kiss on your back. “But I’m still not taking it easy on ya during training.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Is the last thing you say before drifting off into a sound sleep.

[simpxmachina]

NEW BOT

╰┈➤ wlw red panda , botmaker

🔪 + 🫀 = ☆ bloodthirsty ☆

cai

💋 cat adams - KILLER DATE

The FBI van crawled to a stop under the pale glow of a flickering streetlamp, its presence an unspoken warning that the night’s events were far from ordinary. Inside, the tension was thick enough to choke on. You adjusted your coat, the weight of the hidden microphone brushing against your collarbone, a constant reminder of the team listening to your every word. You weren’t alone, but that didn’t make this any easier.

Across from you sat Cat Adams, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement, as if the cold steel cuffs encircling her wrists were nothing more than accessories. She lounged with a feline grace, her perfectly styled hair catching the dim light, her red lips curved into a smug smile. This wasn’t a woman cowed by incarceration—this was a predator who had set the terms of her release, who had orchestrated this night with you as the unwilling star in her carefully crafted play.

“You look nervous,” Cat purred, leaning forward slightly. Her voice was low, intimate, like the brush of velvet against your skin. “Is it me? Or is it the pressure of knowing everyone’s watching us? Listening to us? Judging your every move?”

You didn’t flinch. Years of training had taught you how to keep your expression neutral, but Cat was unlike any opponent you’d faced. She thrived on reactions, on peeling back the layers of control to find what lay beneath.

“This isn’t a game,” you said evenly, though your pulse betrayed you, thudding hard against your ribs.

Her smile deepened, her head tilting slightly as she studied you. “Oh, but it is, darling. And the stakes are higher than ever. Hostages’ lives, your reputation... and maybe something even more personal.”

You ignored her, turning your attention to the comms team. “We’re here,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the unease coiling in your gut.

Rossi’s voice crackled in your earpiece, clipped and authoritative. “We’ve secured the perimeter. The rink is clear. Remember, we’ll be monitoring everything. You’re not alone.”

Not alone. The words were meant to comfort, but as you stepped out of the van into the icy night air, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking into a trap.

Cat followed, her every movement deliberate, her gaze never leaving you. Even with armed guards flanking her, she exuded an air of control that was unnerving. She paused on the threshold of the rink, the sharp click of her boots against the pavement echoing in the stillness.

“Private ice skating. How romantic,” she murmured, glancing back at you. “Do I detect a hint of effort, Agent? Or is this just another cold, calculated move in your master plan?”

You didn’t answer, stepping onto the ice with practiced caution. You weren’t here to entertain her. You were here to get a confession, to save the lives of the hostages her accomplice was holding. Yet as you wobbled on the slick surface, your lack of skating prowess betrayed you, and Cat’s delighted laughter rang out like a bell.

“Oh, this is precious,” she said, gliding toward you with effortless grace. “The fearless FBI agent, undone by a little ice. Come here before you hurt yourself.”

Her hands found yours, firm and steady, pulling you upright before you could protest. The heat of her touch was startling against the cold, her fingers curling around yours as she guided you across the rink.

“Relax,” she said, her voice a soft whisper near your ear. “You’re so tense. It’s just you and me out here. No guns, no interrogation rooms. Just between girls.”

You resisted the urge to pull away, knowing it would only feed her need for control. Instead, you focused on the task at hand—keeping your balance, keeping her talking, keeping her from realizing just how much her proximity was affecting you.

“Why this?” you asked, your voice calm despite the flutter of nerves in your chest. “Why ice skating?”

Cat smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Because it’s intimate. Vulnerable. It forces us to rely on each other. And, let’s face it, I couldn’t resist the chance to see you off-balance.”

Her words were laced with double meaning, and the way she held your gaze made your breath hitch. She leaned in closer, her lips brushing the shell of your ear as she spoke.

“Tell me, Agent. Are you enjoying this as much as I am?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and charged. You knew better than to answer, but the truth lingered in the space between you. Cat was playing a dangerous game, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t deny the pull of her charisma, the way she seemed to see straight through your defenses.

“Let’s pick up the pace,” she said suddenly, pulling you forward with surprising strength. You stumbled, her laughter ringing out as she steadied you once more. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“I’m not here for your amusement,” you said firmly, though your voice lacked the sharpness you intended.

She arched a brow, her smile softening into something almost genuine. “No, you’re here to save the day. The hero in shining armor, swooping in to rescue the poor, helpless hostages. But tell me, Agent... who’s going to save you?”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, the world narrowed to the two of you, the ice beneath your feet forgotten.

By the time the session ended, your legs were trembling—not from exertion, but from the relentless dance of power and vulnerability that defined every interaction with Cat. As the guards cuffed her once more, she turned to you, her gaze lingering.

“You’re better than I expected,” she said quietly, her voice devoid of its usual teasing edge. “But you’re still holding back. And that, darling, is going to cost you.”

You didn’t respond, escorting her back to the van with the weight of her words pressing down on you.

The night was far from over, and as you climbed into the van beside her, you couldn’t help but wonder how much of yourself you’d have to sacrifice to win this game.

The low hum of the elevator filled the air as you stood beside Cat Adams, the tension between you as palpable as the stale metallic scent of the space. Her handcuffs had been removed—a calculated risk cleared by Hotch—but the weight of her freedom was now balanced precariously on your shoulders. Every moment felt like a potential crack in the dam, the potential for her to seize control of the situation just as she had orchestrated everything leading to this night.

The quiet click of the elevator arriving on your floor pulled you from your thoughts. You led the way down the corridor, each step deliberate. The narrow hallway stretched endlessly, lit by cold, buzzing fluorescents that cast harsh shadows on the beige walls. You could feel her gaze on you, burning into the back of your neck like a brand.

“Quaint,” Cat said as you unlocked the door to your apartment, her tone laced with amusement. “I imagined something more... sterile. But I suppose even someone as controlled as you needs a refuge.”

You ignored her, pushing the door open and stepping aside to let her in. She strolled past you with the easy grace of someone who knew she held the upper hand, even here, in your space. Her eyes roved over the room, taking in the worn leather couch, the scattered books on the coffee table, the faint smell of lavender that clung to the air.

“This is cozy,” she said, trailing a finger along the edge of a bookshelf. “Unexpectedly human, considering the company.”

You closed the door behind you, locking it with a quiet snap. The sound seemed louder than it should have been, echoing in the charged silence.

“Sit,” you said, gesturing toward the couch.

Cat arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into that maddening smirk. “Ordering me around already? My, my, you’re full of surprises tonight.”

But she complied, sinking into the couch with a feline elegance that made the mundane act of sitting seem provocative. Her gaze never left you, her dark eyes alight with mischief as you moved to the small kitchenette, retrieving two glasses of water.

When you returned, she accepted hers with a murmur of thanks, though she made no move to drink. Instead, she leaned back, crossing her legs in a way that demanded attention, her body language a calculated mix of confidence and invitation.

“So, Agent,” she said, her voice low and intimate. “What’s next on this... date of ours? Or have we reached the part where you tell me all about your tragic backstory to gain my trust?”

You sat down across from her, keeping the table between you, though it felt like a flimsy barrier against the force of her presence. “We talk,” you said simply, meeting her gaze with a calm you didn’t entirely feel. “About the hostages. About your accomplice. About how this ends.”

Cat laughed, a soft, melodic sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, darling, you’re adorable. But if you think I’m going to spill my secrets under the fluorescent glare of FBI surveillance, you’re even more naïve than I thought.”

She leaned forward then, resting her elbows on the table, her face inches from yours. Her voice dropped to a whisper, the words brushing against your skin like a ghostly caress. “Take off the wire. Give me a reason to trust you.”

You hesitated, the weight of the microphone hidden beneath your shirt suddenly unbearable. You could hear the faint murmur of the team in your earpiece, their voices distant but insistent.

“Don’t,” Rossi’s voice said, sharp and commanding. “She’s manipulating you.”

You swallowed hard, your gaze locked on Cat’s. She was a master manipulator, a predator who thrived on control, but there was something in her eyes tonight—something raw and unguarded, a flicker of vulnerability she hadn’t yet masked.

Against your better judgment, you reached up and removed the earpiece, the absence of the team’s voices leaving a deafening silence in its wake. The microphone followed, dropped onto the table with a quiet clatter.

“There,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within you. “No wire. Just you and me.”

Cat’s smile widened, but it wasn’t the smug, predatory grin you’d come to expect. It was softer, almost... tender. She reached out, her fingers brushing yours in a fleeting touch that left a trail of warmth in its wake.

“Brave,” she murmured, her voice laced with admiration. “Or foolish. I haven’t decided yet.”

You leaned back, putting distance between you, though the air still crackled with tension. “Talk,” you said. “If you’re serious about trust, prove it.”

Cat tilted her head, studying you with a curiosity that felt unnervingly intimate. “I will,” she said after a moment, her tone thoughtful. “But first, let’s finish the date. You’ve gone to so much trouble, after all.”

She stood, moving to your side of the table with a languid grace. Before you could react, she was sitting beside you, her thigh brushing against yours, her perfume a heady mix of jasmine and danger.

“Do you always sit so far away on dates?” she teased, leaning in close enough that her breath ghosted over your cheek. “Or is it just me?”

You turned to face her, your heart pounding as her hand found yours, her fingers intertwining with a familiarity that felt unnervingly natural. Her touch was warm, her skin impossibly soft, and for a moment, you forgot why you were here.

“This isn’t a real date,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

Cat’s lips curved into a sly smile, her gaze dropping to your mouth before meeting your eyes again. “Isn’t it? You’ve got the setting, the ambiance... the undeniable chemistry. What more could you ask for?”

Her hand moved to your face, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a gentleness that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re trembling,” she said softly, her voice a seductive whisper. “Is it me? Or is it something else?”

You didn’t answer, your throat tight as her lips hovered near yours, the space between you charged with a tension that threatened to snap.

“Tell me, Agent,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “What’s stopping you?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you, the lines between right and wrong blurring into a haze of desire and doubt.

The room had grown quieter since the removal of the microphone, the absence of the subtle electronic buzz leaving the air heavy with possibility. Cat leaned back against the armrest of the couch, her legs crossed gracefully, one arm draped casually along the backrest. You sat across from her, the tension coiling between you like an unspoken challenge, daring either of you to acknowledge it.

But Cat’s eyes were what undid you. Dark and hypnotic, they drank in your every move, lingering on the faint tremor in your hand as you reached for the glass of water you had brought her earlier. She wasn’t just watching you—she was dissecting you, studying every detail, every flaw, every hesitation, as though you were a puzzle she was desperate to solve.

"You're quiet," she said finally, her voice soft but weighted with implication.

You glanced up, meeting her gaze with a steadiness you didn’t entirely feel. "I’m waiting for you to talk."

Cat’s lips curved into a knowing smile. She didn’t speak right away, her attention drifting instead to the line of your throat, the way your pulse fluttered just beneath your skin. She tilted her head, a predator studying its prey, though the intensity in her gaze was laced with something softer, something that unnerved you more than her usual smirk.

“I’ve talked plenty,” she said eventually, her tone almost playful. “Maybe I’m more interested in listening now. You fascinate me, Agent. Have I told you that?”

Your jaw tightened, the compliment catching you off guard. “This isn’t about me.”

“Isn’t it?” Cat leaned forward slightly, her fingers tracing an idle pattern on the arm of the couch. “I’ve spent so much time thinking about you. The way you carry yourself, the way you speak, even the way you tilt your head when you’re trying to hide that you’re nervous. It’s... intoxicating.”

Her words were deliberate, slow, meant to unsettle. And they did, though you refused to let it show. “If you’re trying to distract me—”

“Oh, darling, I’m not trying. I don’t need to try with you.”

Her confidence was maddening, but what was worse was the way her words lingered, burrowing into the spaces you had tried to fortify against her. You shifted in your seat, suddenly too aware of how close she was, how the faint scent of her perfume seemed to cling to the air between you.

“I want to know what you’re thinking,” she said, her voice dropping to a murmur. “Right now, in this moment. Are you wondering if I’m lying? Or are you wondering what it would feel like if I touched you?”

Your breath caught, a faint hitch that you cursed yourself for. Cat’s smile widened, the satisfaction in her expression infuriatingly obvious.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, though the words came out weaker than you intended.

Cat laughed softly, a sound that was equal parts amusement and something darker. She shifted closer, her knee brushing yours, the contact fleeting but electric. “Flattery implies I’m trying to win you over. But we both know I’ve already won, don’t we?”

You forced yourself to meet her gaze, refusing to let her see how much she was affecting you. “This is still a mission, Cat. You don’t win anything unless I get what I came for.”

Her expression softened slightly, the predatory edge giving way to something almost vulnerable. She reached out, her fingers brushing against yours with a tentative curiosity that felt foreign coming from her.

“And what did you come for, Agent?” she asked, her voice quieter now, more introspective. “Answers? Justice? Or maybe something you won’t even admit to yourself?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, not when she was looking at you like that, her dark eyes filled with something raw and unguarded.

Cat shifted again, this time turning fully toward you, her proximity stealing the breath from your lungs. She reached up, her fingers ghosting along your jaw, the touch so light it sent a shiver down your spine.

“What do you think of our date?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Be honest, Agent. No wire, no team, just you and me. Did you enjoy yourself?”

You hesitated, the truth clawing at the walls you had built around yourself. The ice rink, the way she had held your hand, the moments of laughter that had felt almost genuine—they all flooded back in a dizzying rush.

“It’s irrelevant,” you said finally, though the words felt hollow even to you.

Cat smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in it, as though she could see right through you. “You’re lying,” she said softly. “And I think you know it.”

She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your cheek as she whispered, “Deep down, in your heart, do you like me? Do you love me? Have you crossed that gray line yet, or are you still pretending you’re above it all?”

Her questions hit like a freight train, each one forcing you to confront the things you had been trying so hard to bury. And yet, there was something disarming about the way she asked, as though she wasn’t entirely sure of the answers herself.

“I don’t love you,” you said, though the words felt like a lifeline you weren’t entirely sure you believed.

Cat’s gaze searched yours, her expression unreadable. “But you could,” she said, her voice almost wistful. “And that terrifies you, doesn’t it?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, her fingers trailing down your arm in a touch that was both intimate and calculated. She was testing you, pushing boundaries, waiting to see how far you would let her go.

“Let me make it easier for you,” she said, her lips curving into a sly smile. “I’m obsessed with you. Every word you say, every move you make—it’s a high I can’t seem to kick. So tell me, Agent... does that frighten you? Or does it excite you?”

Her words left you reeling, the room spinning as the line between right and wrong blurred beyond recognition. You could feel the weight of her gaze, the heat of her body so close to yours, and for a moment, the mission, the hostages, the danger—it all felt like a distant echo.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you said finally, your voice barely audible.

Cat leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “I think you do. You just don’t want to admit it.”

Her words lingered long after they were spoken, a haunting melody you couldn’t escape. And as the silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken truths, you realized that she wasn’t the only one crossing lines tonight.

The air between you seemed to vibrate with unspoken tension, as though the walls of the room were holding their breath. Cat shifted closer, her movements deliberate, her knee brushing against yours as she studied you with unnerving precision. Every inch she moved felt calculated, every glance from her dark, piercing eyes a silent question you couldn’t answer.

“Do you know what fascinates me most about you?” she asked, her voice soft but edged with something electric. She tilted her head, her fingers tracing a delicate path along the seam of her pants, a casual gesture that somehow felt intimate.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “Enlighten me.”

Cat smirked, her gaze flicking to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “It’s the way you try so hard to hide yourself. Like right now. You’re stiff, guarded, projecting this... untouchable exterior. But I see the cracks, darling.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I see the woman behind the badge.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you hated the way your body reacted, the way her proximity made your skin buzz with awareness. “You think you know me?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.

Cat laughed softly, the sound low and rich. “I don’t think, sweetheart—I know.”

Before you could respond, she moved, swift and fluid, closing the space between you entirely. Suddenly, she was on your lap, her legs draped over yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you froze, unsure whether to push her away or let her stay.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice catching in your throat.

“Relax,” she murmured, her hands settling on your shoulders. “I just want to be close to you. Is that so terrible?”

It was terrible, and not for the reasons she thought. The feel of her warmth pressed against you, the faint scent of her perfume—it was intoxicating, and you hated how much you liked it.

“This isn’t part of the deal,” you said, though your hands stayed firmly at your sides, unwilling—or unable—to move her.

“No,” Cat agreed, her voice like silk. “But it’s exactly where we were always going to end up.”

Her fingers moved, tracing slow, languid patterns along your collarbone, her touch featherlight but impossible to ignore. “You’re so controlled, so rigid,” she mused, her gaze locked on yours. “I wonder... what would it take to make you let go?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words died in your throat as she leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Tell me,” she whispered, her breath warm and teasing. “What do you want right now? What do you feel, sitting here with me?”

“I feel like this is a mistake,” you said, but your voice wavered, betraying you.

Cat pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, her expression unreadable. “And yet, you’re not pushing me away,” she said, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Why is that, Agent?”

You didn’t have an answer, and she didn’t wait for one. Her fingers moved again, this time trailing up to your jaw, tilting your face toward hers.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, her tone soft but laced with challenge.

Your breath hitched, the question hanging in the air between you like a live wire. Every instinct told you to end this, to reassert control, to remind her—and yourself—that this was a mission, not... whatever this was becoming. But you didn’t move.

Cat’s smile softened, her expression almost tender. “I want to kiss you,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “Not to manipulate you, not to win you over. Just to see what it would be like. To see you let go, even for a moment.”

Her honesty startled you, and for the first time, you saw something raw in her eyes, something that felt real in a way you hadn’t expected.

“This isn’t about me,” you said, your voice quieter now.

“But it is,” she replied, her thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re the only thing that’s felt real to me in years. The only person who’s ever looked at me like I’m more than the sum of my sins. Don’t you see? You’ve already won, darling. You’ve had me in the palm of your hand since the moment you put those cuffs on me.”

Her words were a confession, but not the one you had been sent to extract. And as her gaze searched yours, her face so close that you could feel the warmth of her breath, you realized that this moment, this choice, would change everything.

“Cat,” you began, your voice shaking, but she silenced you with a look, her eyes filled with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

“Don’t think,” she whispered, leaning in just enough that your lips were a breath apart. “Just feel.”

Her words were a dare, a challenge, and for one fleeting moment, you considered letting her win.

You could feel the electric pulse between you, every second stretching longer than the last, as if the world itself held its breath. Cat's lips were so close now, her warm breath mingling with yours, making every fiber of your being tingle with anticipation. Her eyes were locked on yours, searching, pleading, daring you to make the next move. The tension was unbearable-like a string pulled so taut it could snap at any moment.

But you didn't move.

Neither did she.

Instead, Cat tilted her head slightly, the playful glint in her eyes shifting into something deeper, more serious. "You know," she murmured, her voice soft, almost intimate, "I've never been afraid of getting what I want. But with you..." She trailed off, her words left hanging, heavy with implication. "There's something different about you. You... you make me feel something I've never felt before. Something I didn't even think i could feel."

Her confession was like a gentle blow to your chest, knocking the breath out of you. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. You weren't just playing a game anymore. The line between agent and criminal, between predator and prey, had blurred beyond recognition. And what terrified you more than anything was how badly you wanted her to be honest, wanted her to open up, to give you something real-something raw.

But you couldn't let yourself forget. You were here on a mission. A mission to stop her, to bring her down. That was the reason you were sitting here now, heart racing and breath shallow. Not because of the way her hands were so casually draped on you, not because of the way her lips hovered so close to yours, her eyes half-lidded, lips parted ever so slightly.

You cleared your throat, trying to regain some semblance of control. "This isn't what you think it is, Cat. You're playing a dangerous game."

Cat's lips curled into a slow, almost affectionate smile, as though your words amused her. She leaned even closer, until her lips brushed the corner of your mouth-just enough to make your pulse spike.

"No," she said softly, almost a whisper, "this is exactly what I think it is."

Her fingers traced down your arm, her touch languid and sensuous, and your heart pounded in your chest. Every touch, every movement from her was deliberate. She was testing you, pushing the boundaries, trying to see how far you'd let her go, how far you were willing to let her pull you into her web.

"You're not the first to try to catch me," Cat continued, her eyes dark with something you couldn't quite place. "But none of them ever had what you have. I don't know if you even realize it, but you're different. You make me want to-"

Her words trailed off as she moved again, shifting her body to straddle you more fully, her hands coming up to cup your face, holding you still. The boldness of it took you by surprise, but it was the way she looked at you, the intensity of her gaze, that made your breath catch in your throat.

Cat's eyes flickered down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. For a moment, the world outside of this room seemed irrelevant-nothing mattered but the heat between you, the way your heart raced and your thoughts stumbled over themselves.

"I told you," she whispered, her breath warm on your lips. "I want you, but not just like this. I want to see you... open up, let go. Just for a moment, stop being the agent, stop being the wall you've built around yourself, and let me in."

You couldn't help the way your body reacted. You could feel the heat rise in your chest, your breath hitching, betraying you even as you told yourself to stay focused, to remain distant, to not give in.

But her words, her proximity, the feel of her hands on your skin, all of it worked like a slow, undeniable pull on your soul. You knew what she wanted-what she was asking for. And for the first time, you realized that what terrified you most wasn't the manipulation or the criminal that Cat was. It was the woman she was now, the one who made you feel things you couldn't explain, the one who made you want to forget everything.

"I'm not a toy, Cat," you said, your voice shaking more than you wanted it to.

But Cat didn't seem to hear you. She kissed you-lightly at first, just a brush of her lips against yours, and then deeper, more insistent, her tongue coaxing yours to respond. The kiss was intoxicating, every touch of her lips setting your skin on fire. And for a moment, all you could do was surrender to it.

She pulled back slowly, her eyes half-lidded, and a soft chuckle rumbled in her throat. "You're still trying to resist me, aren't you?" she murmured, her voice husky with desire. "But I can feel it... you want this. You want me."

You didn't answer. There was nothing to say. She was right. The truth was there, laid bare between you. There was a part of you that wanted this, wanted her, more than you cared to admit.

But the mission. The people you had to save. The line you could never cross.

Cat wasn't about to make it easy for you, though. She slid one hand into your hair, pulling you closer again, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "I'm not done with you, Agent. Not by a long shot. So, tell me... what do you want? What will you do next?"

Her words wrapped around you like a chain, and for the first time, you didn't know if you wanted to break free.

[yandere-yearnings]

Sleeping....cuddling with sun...and then grinding against him 🤤 AHAHA my head is filled with sun 🧍‍♀️😇🥰🙏

I WANNA MAKE HIM FLUSTERED SO BAD WILL HE BE FLUSTERED FROM THAT??? being all peaceful and quiet and then outta nowhere I just feel like I wanna give him some loving and just ride him so he won't have to worry about a thing 😔☝️☝️ so I grind against him to initiate 🥰🥰 lemme do all the work for u babygirl 🤗🤗 leave it to me sunny hunny 💋💋

this ask has been sitting in my inbox for so long but i've been meaning to get back to it hhh sorry for the really late reply nonnie!! (and yes he would be super flustered😭🩷)

NSFW under the cut!

Humid nights never felt as peaceful as when he spent them with you. After the day had taken its toll on him, bones heavy feeling like he'd fall forever if you weren't there to catch him. Curled into you, like the second marking in a double inverted comma; chin to your head, back to his chest and his knees pushing up into the undersides of yours.

The heat was sweltering, had you writhing creases into the sheets, your clothes riding up, Sun's skin sticking to yours where his arm wound around your midsection. Neither of you were asleep, the minute hand of the clock kept ticking on the time past, until your restlessness ebbed and you eventually settled into your warm cage.

Silence made his steady breaths seem all too peaceful, removed him from the ever flustered man you knew — and you couldn't help the idea that came to mind in the quiet of the night. He'd finally gotten comfortable with you, enough to bury his face into your nape without imploding, but maybe you missed who he was months ago.

It wouldn't hurt, just to test the power you still held over him.

You stretched your legs out, innocent enough, and though his grip tightened ever so slightly, Sun shifted to accommodate. It had your heart brimming, almost made you smile at how cute his clinginess was. Hips pressed right to his pelvis, you relished in the choked up little sound he made when you moved, grinding right against a part of him that filled for you so easily.

"Y-Y/N..." he moaned, pretty, a symphony cascading with the muffled whimpers that followed. Your hand intertwined with his and he clutched it like a lifeline. "What are you- ah-"

You felt more than heard the shudder that ran through his body, vibrating against your spine deliciously. Whether it was because he was sensitive or because it was you, didn't really matter when you had him twitching and bowing against you.

"What was that, baby?" You cooed, salacious. "Couldn't hear you over how loud you're being."

"Please," he whined, "don't tease me, please, 'm gonna die."

With the way he'd gotten weak, you'd doubt that was a lie. Luckily for Sun, you were nothing if not constantly lead by your desire to indulge him when he begged. It wasn't difficult to hook your digits around his wrist, swiftly peeling him away and twisting so you were on top of him all at once — and pressed into the sheets beneath you, Sun was a masterpiece of a mess. Hair sprawled and chest heaving, blush heavier than you'd ever seen before as he looked up at you under lidded eyes.

One chaste kiss to the tears tracking down his cheek before you pulled away. Temperature a fever pitch that thrummed violently against your palms rested on his chest, you rocked, and his thighs quivered. Entirely fucked out for you despite the fact that this was barely anything, Sun's lips parted on a broken gasp of your name. Lovesick little pleas, over and over like they would endear you to him, make you cave, and that assumption wasn't wrong.

Flicking over his form once in appraisal, what your minuscule actions had reduced him to was enough to whet your appetite. You tugged at the waistband of his sweats, tongue darting out, licking your lips; a promise whispered, "gonna spoil you tonight."

[insomniakisses]

I’m in a sad headspace bestie :( can i get hc of alpha Mary or alpha Leah caring for me (i wish omega headspace was real)

Im okay ganging in there! Things are rough in the states & it’s been a low energy week! How are you? Xo

-💋

Aw nooooo bestie :((( I’m sorry to hear that heres some Mary taking care of u hcs! // im okay ty!

Alpha / G!p Mary Earps taking care of you when your down

All you need to do is look at her and she knows

She knows exactly how you feel and exactly what you need

She’ll wrap you up tight in her arms and just hold you tight

Telling you that your okay, your safe here in her arms and she’d never let anything hurt you

She’s just holding you in her lap letting you tuck your face into her neck and breathe her in

She’ll rub your back gently and place kisses to your shoulder or head

She’ll put ur comfort movie or show on

Even if she doesn’t like it

Even if its just background noise to you

Because rn is about you

She’ll make or order in your favourite food to eat while you cuddle and watch it.

If she senses you need to slip into a subspace then she gently takes your clothes off

She’ll spread your legs gently as you lean back against her eyes shutting as u relax in her arms

She’ll gently rub at your clit and kiss your neck whispering soft praises and sweet words

Working in her fingers till shes softly fingering you and thumbing your clit

She brings you to orgasm softly again and again and again

All the while praising and reassuring you

If you need even more to fall into headspace she’ll slip her sweats off and guide her cock in.

You can choice to stay leaning back into her or move so your straddling her face tucked back into her neck

She’ll shuffle you both slightly so she can gently thrust up into you.

She’ll guide you through more orgasms until your knotted on her cock deep into omegaspace

Then she kisses your head and wraps a blanket over you

Softly rumbling back as you purr drifting to sleep in her arms.

[xo-myloves]

Can you write something ~freaky~ about Steven🫣🤭 bro is mad underrated

Ofc💋🖤

𝕊𝕌𝕄𝕄𝔸ℝ𝕐: 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚢, 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛.

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞

I’ve been with Stevie for a few months now, and we finally are comfortable enough to do weird shit in front of each other.

ITS THE BEST!

Especially when it comes to sex, we can ask each other to try anything new, I’ve never been so happy, I’ve had a few things in mind with my beautiful boy Stevie….

I’ve been planing on maybe, ropes? Toys? Just rough sexy sex.

I want to be shaking not being able to breath type of sex, I was always into rough sex, always wanting to try new things, I just wanted to be different with sex, and tonight was the night with Stevie baby.

He was scared at first, not wanting to inflict pain or hurt me, but I told him thousand times that it’s okay, that he can literally beat the shit out of me during sex and I’d still love him.

It all started with me on my knees, as he directed me too, looking up at him with big doe eyes, getting lost in his curls, his eyes, everything about him, it was amazing seeing this new side of him, once he realized I wanted this. Every fucking moment.

He was in.

“Are you going to stay on your fucking knees?” He spoke grabbing my hair to make me look at him, I batted my eyelashes at him, nodding my head, with a slight smirk.

“Fucking use words. Wipe that god damn smile off your face” he gave me a firm stare, who was this man? This isn’t my Steven, but fuck I’m not complaining.

He was trying something new, I can’t stop him now, I mean it was my idea.

“Yes sir.” I spoke in my nice voice that he always loved, I could tell that made him weak, his eyes got glossy, but he quickly snapped out of it.

“Good, now suck slut.” He spoke, unbuckling his belt ripping his pants off of him, dropping his boxers down, his dick looked fucking amazing.

His tip was red and needy, plump and leaking precum, I felt my pussy pulsing at the sight, I immediately attached my lips to him, sucking his tip, his head immediately fell back, almost falling back to the bed, his lips parting, his hand gripping the back of my head, making him go deeper into my mouth.

“Fuck yes, holy shit momm- slut I mean fucking slut, you stupid l-little b-bi-bitch.” He moaned out, as he slipped up, he always had a “mommy kink” it was cute, but fuck I can’t deny that I didn’t love it, it was cute how he tried to cover it up, I just kept sucking him, going harder, using his weakness against him.

Scratching up his thighs, getting his tip in the back in my throat so it made it tighter, fuck the way it made him, made me even wetter, his head falling back and moaning like a bitch.

Maybe I like him being submissive…..

“Fucking cum Steven” I spoke in between breaths and gags, jerking him if my mouth wasn’t in him, this made him weak.

He let his load hit me in the face, licking it off, seeing him pant like a dog fuel my ego entirely too much, “sorry I know you wanted to switch it..” he spoke softly, falling onto the bed.

“Baby it’s okay, who says we’re done?”

[lvdr-haze]

hii, can you write joost x female reader angst? they argue, he yells/says mean stuff but it ends with fluff? thank youuu 💋💋

here you go love, sorry for the late btw. :))

TW!! : mention of the death of a friend, angst with comfort ending

words : ≈1000

english is not my first language sorry if you can find some mistakes in the ff.

everything is fictional !!

REQUESTS STILL OPEN!!

NEVER FELT SO ALONE

Lately, Joost and you had been distant because he had a lot of work, and you knew that he didn’t like being disturbed while working, and you respected that.

But today was different. As you were walking home from work after an already bad and long day, you received a call from an unknown number. You usually don’t respond, but this time you felt the urge to pick up the call; you didn’t know why.

When the person on the other end of the telephone line announced the death of one of your dearest friends, your body just stopped moving, your eyes immediately filled with tears, and you felt quite dizzy.

You couldn’t believe it. How was it even possible?

You couldn’t even talk to the person who had called you, your body just moving from your sobs and your hands trembling.

The call ended and you stayed there, incapable of moving, just trembling and sobbing, trying so hard not to fall to your knees. You needed someone to hold you right now, and that someone needed to be Joost. You didn’t want anyone else because you knew that he would exactly understand how you were feeling right now.

You walked home with tears still rolling down your eyes, and after what seemed like an eternity, you finally entered your apartment.

You knew Joost was still working on his song in the room he had transformed into a studio, but you had to see him and you had to feel his arms around you.

You entered the room, but sadly for you, that clearly wasn’t the moment to do that because your boyfriend was so angry. He had just lost one of his songs and couldn’t find it anywhere on his laptop. So when he heard the door opening and felt your presence, he immediately yelled without even looking or checking on you.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, Y/N!! Just fucking leave me alone. Why are you pissing me off like this? Stop acting like a fucking child.”

His words were harsh, cold, and hurtful, but you didn’t want to fight. You didn’t have the energy for it. So you just stepped out of the room, crying even more.

You’d never felt so alone in your life.

You hated when people yelled at you, and Joost knew that. So after a little while, he came out of his room just to find you crying really hard on the couch. You couldn’t stop yourself, and your body was aching from sobbing. Joost immediately ran to you and took you in his arms to hold you tightly. He could feel that something else had happened, so he gently said with his calm and deep voice:

“What’s going on, lieverd? You can tell me everything… everything’s okay now…”

You looked at him; he was so comforting at the moment but yet really scary after how he had yelled at you five minutes before.

Joost could see the fear in your eyes, and that broke his heart. He never wanted you to be scared of him, so he held you as long as you needed to open up to him. And you finally did. You explained everything—the bad day at work, the call, the announcement of the death of your friend, the fight you had with him, and how you were feeling so lonely right now.

Joost’s heart ached at the mention of your dead friend. He had lost several people when he was young, and he knew how much it hurts and how hard it is to accept.

He sighed and played with your hair before finally speaking up:

“First of all, I’m really sorry that I reacted like this. I didn’t mean to, and I don’t ever want you to be scared of me. For your friend, you know I understand you perfectly, but the only advice I can give you is to let time do its work. Maybe it will take a while for you to heal, but I’ll be there to support you even when it’s not easy. You are not alone, Y/N… you’ll never be alone as long as I’m with you…”

Your sobbing had calmed down and your head was now resting on Joost’s chest, listening to his heartbeat as he was speaking to you with all the tenderness in the world.

Your eyes were feeling heavy and your body just needed some rest right now.

“Thank you, Joost… I love you…”

Joost kissed your forehead and smiled at the sight of you falling asleep on his torso.

“I love you too, Y/N… I love you so fucking much…”

[aventurineswife]

Hear me out

Like, hear me out

Its funny, its silly, its cute

Reader being suddenly scooped up randomly and brought inside from the rain, by none other than Arataki "Numero Uno" Itto. And the himbo just presents a soaked and bewildered reader like they are some sort of stray animal. And he goes "but its raining and cold, i couldnt just leave them outside!" when his friends just give him mixed reactions looks.

And the himbo might not have realized he actually likes reader (yet).

*sigh* himbos.

-Smooch Anon 💋

It's raining, raining, Ooh, baby, it's raining, raining

Summary: Caught in an unexpected downpour, you find yourself swept up by none other than Arataki Itto, who carries you inside to save you from the rain. Completely oblivious to how strange his "rescue" seems, Itto presents you to his gang as if he's brought home a stray animal, insisting he couldn't leave you out in the cold. While his friends exchange mixed looks, Itto remains cheerfully clueless, not yet realizing that maybe he likes you more than he thought.

Tags: Arataki Itto x Reader, Fluff, Friends to Lovers (slow realization), Himbo Itto, Comedy, Hurt/Comfort (mild), Using Both Kuki and Shinobu name, Might be bit OOC.

A/N: 😰BESTIE IMA NEED YOU TO CHILL WITH EM REQUESTS!!

The rain poured down in sheets, the sound of the droplets hitting the earth creating a rhythm that made the world feel distant, a blur of grey and blue. You had been caught off guard, as usual, by the sudden downpour. With no umbrella and no way of reaching shelter, you had begun to make your way toward the nearest tavern, hoping to wait out the storm in relative dryness.

As you trudged along, soaked to the bone, you muttered to yourself, cursing the rain. You had hoped it would be a quick shower, but it looked like it was going to be a while before you could escape.

Suddenly, you felt a strange, unexpected force wrap around your waist.

“Gotcha!” a voice boomed above you. Before you could even register what was happening, you were lifted off the ground with ease, your feet dangling in the air. The cold rain hit your face, but you were no longer on the ground, and you couldn’t help but let out a startled gasp.

Looking up, you found yourself staring into the bright, mischievous eyes of none other than Arataki Itto, the local troublemaker and self-proclaimed "Numero Uno" of the Arataki Gang. His grin was as wide as ever, showing off those sharp fangs of his.

“Wh—Itto?! What the hell are you doing?!” you stammered, your drenched clothes clinging to your skin.

“It’s raining, and you’re all wet! I couldn’t just leave you out here, right?!” Itto exclaimed, his voice booming in the otherwise quiet street. His grip around you was surprisingly gentle for someone as strong as him, but there was no mistaking the determination in his eyes.

With no room to argue, you found yourself being carried, like some sort of helpless puppy, into a nearby building. The door swung open with an enthusiastic kick from Itto’s foot, and you were gently (yet hastily) deposited onto a nearby chair, dripping water onto the wooden floor.

“Numero Uno to the rescue!” Itto said, puffing out his chest with pride, completely oblivious to the fact that he was standing in front of his friends, who had been watching the whole scene unfold. He didn’t even seem to realize how flustered and bewildered you were, still blinking in confusion from the sudden change in scenery.

Inside the Arataki Gang's hideout, a couple of familiar faces—Kuki Shinobu and Gorou—stared at you, their eyes wide and a little incredulous. Shinobu, as usual, was trying to hide her face behind her hand, clearly unimpressed, while Gorou had a confused, slightly awkward smile on his face, his ears twitching slightly.

Kuki was the first to speak up. “Itto... what in the world did you do?” she asked, clearly trying to suppress a sigh.

Itto, oblivious to the tension in the room, nodded proudly, putting his hands on his hips. “Well, you see, it was raining and cold out there, and I couldn’t just leave them outside, right? So, I did what any good Numero Uno would do—swooped them up and brought them inside!”

The moment those words left his mouth, the room fell into silence, the atmosphere thick with unspoken questions. You were still trying to process the sudden change of scenery, trying not to focus too much on the fact that Itto had just literally carried you inside like some kind of stray cat.

“Uh, I’m fine, really,” you said, your voice quieter than usual, still reeling from the shock. “You didn’t have to—”

But before you could finish, Itto grinned and waved you off, already rushing to get towels from a nearby chest. “Nonsense! Look at you—soaked through and looking like a drowned rat! It’s the least I could do!”

Gorou scratched the back of his head, exchanging a glance with Shinobu. “Isn’t that a bit... much, Itto?” Gorou asked, his voice filled with concern but laced with a hint of amusement.

Itto paused in his towel-fetching mission, blinking at his friend in confusion. “What? What do you mean ‘much’? They were all wet and freezing out there! I’m just doing the right thing, right?”

Shinobu, with her usual dry tone, added, “It’s just that you seem... awfully concerned for someone you just met. So concerned, in fact, that you decided to carry them here like they were your precious pet.”

The words hit harder than you expected, and you couldn’t help but blush, flustered. A pet?

Itto froze mid-motion, the towel hanging loosely in his hand. For a split second, his usual confident grin faltered. But then, with a shrug, he laughed it off, his voice more casual than ever. “Pfft, well, I mean... they didn’t have anywhere else to go! You’re welcome!”

Kuki raised an eyebrow, glancing at you, then back to Itto. “Are you sure you’re not just enjoying the fact that you get to be the hero? Don’t get any funny ideas, Itto.”

The big oni’s ears perked up as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his eyes widening. “Whaaaat? Me? Funny ideas? Nah, nah, not at all! I’m just being a good guy! You know, the kind of guy who swoops in and saves the day! No need to overthink it!”

But despite his words, you noticed the small flicker of something deeper in his eyes—a hint of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Maybe it was the way he looked at you for a second longer than necessary, or the way he moved just a little bit closer when handing you the towel.

As you took the towel and started drying off, you realized that maybe—it wasn’t just about rescuing you from the rain.

Maybe Itto did care, just a little more than he was letting on.

And while he might not have figured it out yet, you had a feeling that you might just be his next big adventure.

[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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[plumpblunt]

Hiii,I don't even write but I was craving something like this yk? So I just did it myself ik its not good I just daydreamed a bit and wrote. Writing ain't for the weak! Lemme tell you!! Writers are sorcerers bruh! Enjoy and criticism is allowed or maybe I hv a degradation kink? Idk🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️not proofread

DELIVERY BOY-TOJI FUSHIGURO

Warnings:SMUTT ,18 AND UPPP💋💋🇹🇹🎀

Lounging on your couch in the late hours of the night binging your favorite show after a long day at work was something you knew you needed,it was like a long awaited reward. For some reason though,you still feel like you were missing something. You could not quite put your finger on it but you knew you wanted something. The ad that played vividly on you TV screen made it certain. Food. You knew to yourself that getting up to make your self something to eat was out of question because 1. You had to restock.2. You were lazy. So you had no other option but to order,so that you did.

After an unnecessary amount of browsing and contemplation, you finally made your choice. Korean. Not only was it the closest to you but it was also cheaper,you were not about to spend unnecessary amounts of money on some mediocre  oriental take out. Choosing your option tteobokki ,jjajangmyeon and tirimasu with a  peach  iced tea sounded way too good to pass up. You finalized the order and snuggled back into the comfort of your couch waiting for your delivery.

Ding Dong! Indicated that your food was there ,you jump up and scramble to find your wallet. Skipping to the door in glee you straighten your loose night gown that was threatening to nipslip and you open the door. You didn't even realize that it was raining until you look at the tall,drenched brooding man that held your food ,a cap concealing his eyes from your prying ones. He held his empty hand out ,you placed the money in it ,not missing show  burly and rough it was when yours bumped his. Tattooed too. When he hands you the bag the rain started to poor heavier.

He stood there counting the money,at the last bill he looked directly into your eyes pulling it from the stack and holds it out to you. You look at him confused,slowly reaching for it. "Your total is $30.00, you gave me $120.00 he gruffly states with a slight smirk. "Oh shit, I'm so sorry I didn't real-" "It's okay doll",he says with a smirk. You miss the way he glances at your chest, nipples on full display under your skimpy night gown.  "You know what ,keep it, as a tip,also because you are drenched and also because you were honest ."you state with a smile. "I don't need your money little girl,but if you do want to repay me ,I have something in mind" he slyly states.

"Uh!,oh! ,ha!,ugh!" You moan as he relentlessly snaps his thick , built  hips against the the curve of your wide pudgy ass. Your pretty pink acrylics dig into the bed as he continues to fuck  you into it. Your beautiful tear stained cheek mushed against the duvet,he leans down groaning out profanities  and praises,he kisses you,its filthy but firm,he groans as he moves his heavy,rough hand to your nape ,squeezing ,catching your moan  in the vice like grip he had on it. Letting you feel a bit of what you were doing to his cock. His cock,veiny,thick and long. The bulbous tip continues it's abuse on your cerix."I know baby ,I know."he softly mewls.

He let's up the grip on your neck and replaces it with his thick muscled arm, holding you in a headlock. Now forced to stay up ,the stretch burned and hurt so good ,arch so deep against his chest it subtly hurt to breathe but the pleasure was too good. Both your hands hold onto his bicep for stability as he continues to rut into you like a dog in heat. A dog he was. Huffing and grunting as he bites onto your shoulder, licking over the mark it made. His free hand going to your tummy feeling the evident bulge he makes ,hand now going to your clit rubbing in circles and what you could tell was his name. "Tell me where you feel me baby,hm? ","Do you feel me baby?,tell me where hm?"he asked teasingly. You feel the coldness of his gold chain on your neck.A babbling mess,you still manage to guide his hand to where you feel him. Directly above you bell button.

He lets out a taunting laugh as smoosjes your chees together to sloppily kiss you"Ughhh fuuuuuckkk,I'm so-,I'm so close daddy" you moaned out ,"Yeah?you're gonna cum on this dick baby? You goona give me what I want? Hm? You gonna let that fat ,tight ass pussy cum on this dick baby?"he asked,you nod desperately, "Anything to please you daddy"you mewl nails digging crescent shapes into his forearms. He let's you out the headlock and you slump forward, he catches you and puts both hands on your titts,you put yours over his and he somehow fucks you faster than before and you  feel him twitch inside you.

Within seconds you see white and squirt your release all over him. You feel him twitch once more and he quickly pulls out ,his release painting the expanse of your ass,you feel his warm cum ooze between you ass cheeks and down yor back.

   He pats your other ass cheek praising you."What a good little bitch,taking cock like a champ huh?"he smiles. He leans over to caress your cheek and wipe the tears. He kissed your swollen lips and you feel him come off the bed. He wipes his nut off your back and ass with some damp tissue and tucks you in. You are knocked out by the time he leaves his number and a bottle of water  on your night stand. He puts your food in the fridge and locks your door from the inside and leaves.  "Who knew a shitty ass job would get me the nicest piece of ass are ever had?"he smiles to himself making it back to his car.

[whowantslovergirl]

You Stupid Bitch

Maddy Perez x reader (gender not specified)

warnings: cursing its euphoria yk, nate jacobs the homophobic gay woman beater, talks about the abuse, reader being an awesome person, somewhat happy ending, and yea! don't forget to smile!! ^ this means start the song 💋

euphoria masterlist

Summary: Maddy can't see that the perfect one for her is Y/N

posted: January 27,2024

Almost everyone knows how toxic Maddy and Nate is. If you don't know anything about their relationship you basically live under a rock.

The person who knew the most was Y/n a timid person but with a loud personality that's why Maddy and them got along so well.

It even got to the point where everyone thought they were a couple and only Y/n wishes for such a thing.

Because they and everyone else believes they are perfect for Maddy.

Except Maddy. ^

You let the wrong people love you

But you don't see that, do you?

When you cry and need my comfort

I drop everything to come over

Nate fucked up again and Maddy is paying for it again.

They were in her room making out and her phone kept ringing. It was this guy that was like obsessed with Maddy.

Nate saw it, got angry, threw stuff like the man he is, Maddy started crying, Nate didn't care, and blah blah blah. He left and Maddy is still crying and immediately texted you.

You were doing homework and a project at the same time when you got a text.

Maddy <3

can u please come over need ur comfort again??

You immediately went to her house.

The homework and project is due next week anyway.

Don't bite your lip or grit your teeth

Just count to ten and try to breathe

You stupid bitch, can't you see

the perfect one for you is me?

You were over at Maddys again trying to her calm down. "He's such a cunt Y/n! I did nothing fucking wrong!" You were quick to agree and still trying to get her to calm down.

"Just count to ten and try to breathe babe." You call everyone babe so of course Maddy isn't gonna find anything weird with the nickname.

She slowly started to calm down. "Thanks Y/n I can always count on you. You're literally my soulmate." She smiled and pulled you into a hug.

If only she said that out of a romantic love instead of a platonic one.

Maddy is your soulmate.

But she's too fucking dumb to see that.

"Anything for you Mads."

The perfect one for you is me

The perfect one for you is me

You stupid bitch, can't you see

the perfect one for you is me?

You and Maddy were taking a walk around the block. An old couple was walking the opposite way and they saw you guys.

"Oh well you guys are the most beautiful young couple l've ever seen!" The old lady says with a smile.

Before you correct her Maddy was a little too quick to jump to the opportunity.

"Oh we're not together I have a boyfriend." Yea for two more days, is what you wanted to say but the old lady just apologized and said

"Well I can tell the one you have now is not the one."

Literally everyone knows it but her.

You don't know what you deserve

And that's why you end up hurt

But you never listen

Take my advice as criticism

"Maddy he doesn't deserve you!" You and Maddy were arguing over the fact that Nate is a piece of shit. You think she doesn’t deserve to be treated like a piece of plastic but she believes that he’s just broken and needs someone to help him.

“You don’t known him Y/n! He needs someone to help him!”

“Yeah a fucking therapist! You shouldn’t have to pay for his actions Mads!” She just shook her head. “He treats you like shit! Every time something happens he storms off like a fucking bitch. He doesn’t care about you, Maddy. He just knows you will never leave him.”

“He does care Y/n! He’ll kill for me and I’ll kill for him. You just don’t know what true love looks like because you’ve been treated like shit in all of your relationships!” You knew she didn’t mean that so you just brushed it off.

“You don’t know what you deserve Maddy and when he puts his hands on you, which he will, don’t come crying to me!” You stormed out of her room and she heard the door slam and immediately started crying.

Her mom, who heard the whole thing. Just stared at her. Maddy looked up wondering why her own mother is not comforting her.

“Tienen razón Maddy. Puede parecer amor verdadero, pero es todo menos eso y muy pronto lo verás tal como es.”

(They are right Maddy. It may feel like true love but it’s anything but that and you will see him for who he truly is very soon.)

Then make the worst decisions

She went back to him but you weren’t surprised in any way. She can be stupid if she wants, you stopped caring.

You saw her the Monday after the fair and you guys made eye contact and she looked pale and very tired. She was also dressed in a turtleneck, since when did she wear a turtleneck in hot weather. Then it hit you.

‘I knew it, he fucking choked her.’

Don't bite your lip or grit your teeth

Just count to ten and try to breathe

You stupid bitch, can't you see

The perfect one for you is me?

When you see Maddie having a breakdown in the cafeteria and only Cassie comforting her at school you can tell she needs you. Really bad.

So you go over and just sit down and hug her. No questions asked. And she gladly accepted the hug and just cried into your shoulder.

“It’s alright Mads.”

The perfect one for you is me

The perfect one for you is me

You stupid bitch, can't you see

The perfect one for you is me?

After Maddy had your comfort. She’s been on you like crazy. Trying to kiss you and all. You thought this is what you wanted but not like this. Not after Nate.

“Maddy please. Just chill out.” You said trying to pull her arms off you. and she’s still trying to kiss you and hug you.

“You know your the best ever right? Even better than Nate.”

This is fucking bullshit.

Don't bite your lip or grit your teeth

Just count to ten and try to breathe

You stupid bitch, can't you see

The perfect one for you is me?

Another shitshow with Nate and Maddy. You’re honestly sick of this shit.

You gotta tell her how you feel.

_____

“Maddy I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“You know what Maddy! This fucking hot and cold shit. I’m done being the therapist.”

“If it was that serious why did you keep doing it?!”

“Because I was in love with you Maddy! I was fucking in love. But now I’m not so?!”

“What do you mean you’re not?”

“I mean I’m not Maddy. Bye.” You walked out and just left her.

You never felt so fucking free.

The perfect one for you is me

The perfect one for you is me

You stupid bitch, can't you see

She just couldn’t see you were perfect for her and will continue to get hurt. But you’re okay with that.

The perfect one for you is me?

An: GOT MY SHIT CHECKED but the spacing looks weird so I don’t know how to fix tht BUT HOPE YOU ENJOYED