#nuetral tones

[dark-chocolate-and-red-wine]

[imageingrunge]

they will never free my girl nina from that atrocious hair

[mylittleluvv]

recent pinterest collection

[glitttermoon]

I didnt know until now that active duty military members were prohibited from protesting or participating in protests

[the-withering-system]

There's always spell check

I use spell check heavily. Thats why half my stuff rn is legible. But even if my stuff wasn't that doesn't mean I should be bullied or put down for it ya know?

[bijoumikhawal]

I could draw that old man in lolita. I can draw all those men in lolita.

[atlas-the-idiot-2]

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Just realized im most likely plural ?????

God help mee

[bigjerkart]

Living Room Library

Inspiration for a large transitional enclosed dark wood floor living room library remodel with white walls, a standard fireplace and a stone fireplace

[psychoslave]

Transitional Living Room in Miami Example of a large transitional enclosed dark wood floor living room library design with white walls, a standard fireplace and a stone fireplace

[design-and-html]

Library in Miami

Living room library - large transitional enclosed dark wood floor living room library idea with white walls, a standard fireplace and a stone fireplace

[dark-chocolate-and-red-wine]

Source: Annie Selke on Pinterest

[evenica]

Transitional Living Room in Miami

[mylittleluvv]

[thetxtdevil]

Attention Princess

Beomgyu x Reader

summary: Pretty princess Beomgyu didn't get enough attention from you during your outing. You find a way to make up for it.

content: smut, jealous bf beomgyu, soft.dom but mostly switch(?) gf reader, marking, blowjob, handholding, cum eating, strip tease, grinding, riding, no protection...

word count: 1.2k

Original story: Jealous

What can you do when your pretty princess of a boyfriend gives you the silent treatment. Beomgyu has been sulking ever since you guys came home from dinner with the boys. He rushes home, straight to a shower to let some steam off. After dressing into loose comfy sweats, he plans to pout on the couch for the rest of the night. Lips in a plush scowl paired with big puppy eyes you couldn't help yourself but to snuggle close to the man. You flop on the cushions next to him pinching his cheeks, the man flinches and then buries his head into your neck as you hold him close.

You brushed his long brown hair keeping the comfortable silence. Any interrogations you give him might put Beomgyu in more of an attitude. Beomgyu somehow squishes his face further into your neck with his hands tightening around your waist, he starts to peck your neck. Your relaxing state quickly vanished when you felt gyu's wet tongue licking a strip on your throat. Gyu was relishing your whimpers of his name, he needed this, he need you.

"Gyu you're going to leave bruises" you whine.

He growls a "I know" continuing leaving hickeys all over your neck trailing down to your low-cut top "this is my way to remind you that you're mine."

Tilting your head up, squirming at the good feelings of his soft lips on your tits. You let him continue to destroy your nuetral skin tone into bold purple and red colors, all while trying to think of what happened to get him like this. During that night's dinner you were making sure to be friendly with the group of men so that they didn't have to feel uncomfortable with Beomgyu's girlfriend being around. You would laugh extra hard matching Kai's laugh, complimented Yeonjun's outfit he chose for the occasion, had a small intellectual conversations with Taehyun. Maybe you were being too friendly you didn't give your boyfriend the attention he needed.

"Beomgyu let go" you say in a serious manner. Gyu lifts his head furrowing his eyebrows making his brown eyes dark, the look was frightening "trust me."

You grab his hands that were glued to your breasts taking them off. Lifting yourself and positioning the man underneath your body. You give the sweet man a rough kiss,

"I'm sorry sweetie, did i not give you enough attention?" Beomgyu squeaks as an answer "Can i make it up to you?"

Beomgyu shyly nods, watching you crawl down towards his lower half. His lips curled into a smirk looking at the purple marks already forming on your neck. You wrap your fingers around the waistband of his pants, tugging the garment down letting Beomgyu's thick cock fling out. Looking back at your boyfriend you smile at his dark gaze.

Your hand was small compared to the man's girth, but it flawlessly wrapped around the dick and started pumping the erection. Pretty pearls of pre-cum start to form perfect to lubricate with. Kissing up his thick shaft, "My prince is so handsome" you kiss his tip, "how could I ever leave when you're all mine."

Beomgyu's head falls back into the couch pillow when you wrap your pretty lips around his mushroom tip. Bobbing you head, hollowed mouth, you reach your hand to one of his to hold. Beomgyu quickly accepts you grasp, holding it close to his chest. Intertwining his fingers with yours squeezing them every time you lick a sensitive spot on his shaft. He whines in pleasure, "yes love, YES" as he instinctively bucking his hips up into your throat making you gag. Big brown eyes open in surprise usually you hold him down stopping him from doing anything other than letting you suck him off. But here you were spoiling the prince by fucking your mouth until his cum shoots in the back of you throat.

With a pop of his dick, sucking off any remains of his seed, you crawl back to the man lips letting him taste himself. Beomgyu groans at the taste of you mixed with him. Big hands find their way grouping your ass. "Take that shit off will ya?" he commands.

Taking your time, teasingly stripping off every garment that covered you. He watches you bring your shirt over your head showing off your braless figure. His hands move towards to touch only for you to stop him and shake your head making the same pout from earlier comes back. You slide your leggings off, Beomgyu squirms in his spot looking at the thin lacy panties teased the sight of your cunt. Your dainty fingers circle the sides of the material pulling them down clearly showing the lace sticking to your folds. All Beomgyu could do was to lick his lips in hunger, all he wanted to do is to touch every part of you.

You smirk at his dark orbs eating you up. Your legs settle on the sides of his hips, your wetness grazing his abdomen. Gyu's warm smile reflects yours as you brush his long brown hair with your fingers. You move your hips against his lower belly spreading your juices on him while you kiss and leave your own marks on the man's neck. Gyu's big hands guide your hips slightly pushing you closer to his dick.

Bringing your hips up lining his pink tip to your entrance. Already you whine at the stretch of your hole leaving you burning. "You can do it" Beomgyu encourages you as he finds your contorting face entertaining, he bottoms out leaving you to relax your tightness around him. Beomgyu focuses on your scrunched up face, rubbing and gripping the flesh of your thighs. He coos at you seeing you lighten up you fall on his chest moaning in his ear. "Fuck Beomgyu"

He smiles to himself starting to guide your hips. The more you grind on his fat dick the more you melt into him. Biting his shoulder close to breaking his skin. He lifts hips slamming into you making you bounce uncontrollably, "Gyu- you feel so good" you whine as you mark his neck. Satisfaction filled the man getting the love, care, and attention he wanted, he deserved.

With all your strength you pick your self up holding onto Beomgyu's shoulders. You try to look at him but your vision was blurry with tears. "You're handsome, an unbelievably good boyfriend" you say in between kisses, "and god do you feel good." Picking up the pace you were crying on his dick, clenching so hard around him you could feel his dick twitch inside. Gyu's thumb finds their way to your swollen bundle of nerves making you gasp for air.

"Ugh- g-gyu I'm going to.." Overstimulated by every sensation from the fiery stretch, the electricity in your core, in contrast with the softness of his lips on yours and skin under your palms. Your orgasm flushes through you combining with the soaked mess you left on the man. Glancing at the cocky man before you, you give a nod for him to keep pounding into you until he came undone.

Both sweaty and exhausted, Beomgyu shimmies in his spot on the couch making you both lay down. Your hands brush his hair soothing him to sleep. "You know you're an attention whore?" The statement left you two giggling.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

read more from: Jealousy/Envy TXT Masterlist

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling, @f4iryfever

[lovingwanda]

𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 ?

dark goddess!wanda ⊹ gender nuetral!reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ — 2,204

ᴇxᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴏɴ — mental torture, psychological torture, power dynamics, manipulation, emotional abuse.

ꜰɪᴄ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ — You are devoted to Wanda, your Goddess, the embodiment of the scarlet light and your very reason for existing. Yet, after failing to retrieve the artifacts she entrusted to you, you return to her empty-handed. Such a failure cannot be overlooked, and the punishment for your lapse in devotion will be severe.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ — this fic was inspired by Selemene from Dota: Dragon's blood. If you enjoyed reading this, requests are open for more. Reblogs encouraged & appreciated!

“You’ve failed me.”

The command reverberated through the grand chamber, its impact underscoring the tension in the air. The ethereal light of Wanda Maximoff's presence bathed the room, casting long, menacing shadows. As you knelt in the center, your body trembled, weighed down by the combined force of your reverence and fear. The serene quality of Wanda's voice was laced with an undercurrent of menace that only heightened your unease.

“Was the task I gave you truly so difficult?”

Her question seemed deceptively simple, yet the implications of your failure pressed heavily upon you. The mission to retrieve the sacred relics should have been a straightforward success, given your preparation and the divine favor she had bestowed upon you. Instead, you had returned without the precious artifacts.

“And yet, you come back with nothing.”

The weight of her disappointment felt like a physical burden, as though an invisible force was pressing down on your shoulders. Wanda's gaze was intense, her eyes sharp and unyielding. The power she held was palpable, making every breath a struggle under the pressure of her scrutiny. Each moment stretched into an eternity, filled with the dread of anticipated punishment.

Without warning, the physical pain of your failure intensified. Wanda’s presence seemed to distort the very air around you, amplifying the discomfort of your aching body. The strain of kneeling on the cold stone floor made your muscles protest, and every small movement felt like a reminder of your failure.

When Wanda’s hand reached out, you flinched involuntarily, expecting further harsh treatment. However, her touch was unexpectedly gentle. Her fingers, warm and cool at once, brushed against your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. The softness of her touch contrasted starkly with the severity of her words, creating a disorienting mixture of comfort and dread. She tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze. Her eyes, though penetrating, held a blend of affection and cold reproach.

“Have I not given you everything?” Wanda asked softly, her voice a delicate contrast to the harshness of her earlier tone. “Have I not made you one of my chosen, granted you strength and guidance?”

“You have,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper as it trembled with fear and shame. “I would never—”

“Then why have you failed me?” Wanda’s tone grew sharper, the frustration in her voice evident. “Perhaps a more direct approach is needed for you to understand the severity of your failure.”

The darkness of the chamber seemed to close in around you, the mental anguish intensifying. You could feel a searing ache in your chest, a physical manifestation of your emotional suffering. Each breath felt labored, every heartbeat pounding like a drum in your ears. The air grew colder, the shadows more oppressive, amplifying the sensation of pain.

Wanda’s next words cut through the darkness, cruel and uncompromising. “You will endure this pain until you understand what it means to fail me.”

As her command reverberated through the air, the pain escalated, becoming almost unbearable. Your body trembled with the agony of her words, each moment stretching longer than the last. The physical discomfort merged with the mental torment, creating a nearly overwhelming experience.

Desperate to appease her, you gasped through the pain, your voice choked with agony. “Goddess, please… I am sorry! I will do anything to make this right. Just—”

Wanda’s gaze remained fixed on you, her expression unreadable. Her eyes, cold and distant, scrutinized every detail of your suffering. “Do you love me?” she asked, her voice a chilling whisper that seemed to pierce through the darkness. “Do you truly love me?”

The question was a cruel twist to your suffering. The agony you felt was both physical and psychological, pushing you to the brink. Your pleas and cries became a desperate attempt to regain her favor, your tears mingling with the pain that engulfed you.

“I love you, Goddess!” you sobbed, your voice breaking under the strain. “Please… I need to prove my devotion. Just give me another chance!”

Wanda’s dissatisfied voice echoed through the chamber, a final, haunting reminder of the need for unwavering loyalty amidst your suffering. “Prove your love by enduring this pain. Only then will you earn back my trust.”

The physical torment continued unabated, each moment a brutal reminder of the stakes involved. As you faced the relentless onslaught, the boundaries between physical pain and mental anguish blurred. Your love and devotion to Wanda were tested in the crucible of suffering, and you clung desperately to the hope of redemption.

But are you truly deserving of her forgiveness?

The chamber was filled with an eerie silence, broken only by the ragged breaths and muffled sobs of the crumpled figure at its center. The overwhelming pain had reduced you to a trembling heap, every muscle aching and every breath labored. Your body felt like it was being torn apart from within, both physically and emotionally, as the pain continued to reverberate through you.

Wanda’s footsteps approached with an almost imperceptible grace, the sound of her movement a haunting reminder of her presence. The oppressive darkness of the chamber seemed to part as she neared, her form a stark contrast against the gloom. Her eyes, filled with an inscrutable blend of cold detachment and underlying affection, looked down upon you.

You could barely lift your head, but through your tear-blurred vision, you saw Wanda kneel beside you. Her hands, once cruel and punishing, now moved with surprising tenderness. Gently, she gathered your trembling form into her arms, cradling your head in her lap. The contrast of her warm skin against your cold, aching body was a strange comfort amidst the pain.

Wanda’s fingers stroked your hair with a soothing rhythm, an unexpected kindness that seemed almost incongruous with the severity of her earlier actions. She looked down at you with an expression that was a complex mixture of soft compassion and authoritative control. Her touch, though gentle, carried an undertone of unyielding command.

As you lay there, your breaths ragged and uneven, Wanda leaned closer, her voice a soft whisper that seemed to resonate with a deeper, almost mystical force.

“Do you love me?”

The words were spoken with a chilling softness, but they bore the weight of an ultimatum. Her tone was both questioning and commanding, a test of your devotion even in the midst of your suffering. The touch of her fingers against your scalp was both soothing and a stark reminder of the power she held over you.

With every ounce of remaining strength, you turned your face towards her, the tears on your cheeks mixing with the faintest hint of hope. “I love you, Goddess,” you managed to choke out, your voice a weak, trembling whisper. “I would do anything for you. Please… let me prove it.”

Wanda’s gaze softened slightly, though her demeanor remained resolute. She continued to cradle your head, her fingers gently tracing patterns on your skin as if to provide comfort while asserting her dominance. Her eyes, though filled with a cold intensity, now held a glimmer of approval.

“Show me,” Wanda murmured, her voice carrying a subtle command. “Show me that your love is true, that you can endure this pain and remain loyal.”

The physical pain began to recede slightly, replaced by a profound emotional weight. The moment was both a reprieve and a test, a chance to reaffirm your devotion while still enduring the lingering effects of her punishment. As Wanda’s touch provided a semblance of comfort, the intensity of your love for her became your focus.

In that vulnerable position, with your head resting in her lap and her fingers gently caressing you, the boundaries between pain and affection began to blur. The suffering you had endured was a testament to your devotion, and Wanda’s subtle gestures of care were a reminder of the complex dynamic between punishment and affection.

The chamber remained silent, save for the soft rustle of her robes and the quiet sounds of your ragged breathing.

As you lay there, struggling to catch your breath and regain your composure, Wanda’s voice remained a haunting whisper, a constant reminder of the delicate balance you had to maintain.

Wanda’s fingers continued their gentle exploration of your hair and face, an almost paradoxical contrast to the earlier harshness of her commands. As your sobs gradually quieted to soft, trembling breaths, she began to speak, her voice a blend of soothing warmth and calculated authority. The room’s ethereal glow seemed to intensify, casting long shadows that accentuated the weight of her words.

“You have endured much, my champion,” Wanda murmured, her tone now a velvety caress, yet laced with an undercurrent of control. “Your suffering is a testament to your devotion, but it also serves as a stark reminder of the severity of your shortcomings.”

You lay crumpled in her lap, the warmth of her body providing a temporary respite from the lingering physical pain. However, the comfort of her presence was tainted by the sharpness of her gaze and the cold precision of her words.

“Do you realize,” Wanda continued, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate paths over your face, “just how badly you have failed me? The task I entrusted to you was of the utmost importance. I gave you a mission that required not only strength but also cunning and precision. And yet, what do I find upon your return? Nothing but empty hands and excuses.”

Her voice, though soft, carried a cutting edge, each word a subtle barb aimed to wound your pride and reinforce her dominance. “Was it truly beyond your capabilities to retrieve those artifacts? Or was your devotion merely a façade, crumbling under the weight of your responsibilities?”

A shiver ran down your spine as Wanda’s touch lingered, the gentleness of her caress at odds with the cruelty of her reproach. You could feel the weight of her disappointment pressing down on you, intensifying the emotional pain you already felt.

“You know,” Wanda continued, her voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper, “there are those who would give anything for even a fraction of the chance I have given you. Yet, here you are, squandering it with your incompetence. Many who have failed me are not granted the luxury of a second chance. They are left to face their fate alone, their names lost to obscurity.”

The threat in her words was palpable, the subtle cruelty of her tone designed to instill fear and reinforce the gravity of your failure. You could sense the underlying menace, a reminder of what awaited those who failed to meet her expectations.

“Do you think you are special?” Wanda’s voice took on a mocking edge, her eyes searching yours with a penetrating intensity. “Do you believe you are so valuable that you can afford to disappoint me without consequence? You are fortunate to receive even this measure of forgiveness. Few have the privilege of redemption.”

You tried to respond, your voice trembling. “Goddess, I—”

Wanda’s fingers pressed gently but firmly against your lips, silencing you. “Do not waste your breath on empty apologies,” she said coldly. “Understand that your actions—or lack thereof—reflect directly on you. You must prove that your love and loyalty remain unwavering, despite this failure. Only then can you hope to regain my favor.”

Her hand moved from your lips to your neck, applying a gentle pressure as she guided your head to rest more securely against her lap. The physical comfort she provided was marred by the psychological torment of her words. Every touch was a reminder of her control, every word a warning of the consequences of further failure.

“You must understand the weight of this second chance,” Wanda said softly, her voice a blend of soothing reassurance and subtle menace. “This opportunity to redeem yourself is a rare gift. Most would envy the chance to prove their worth once more. Remember that, and let it drive you to exceed my expectations.”

You nodded weakly, your voice a mere whisper. “I will endure. For you, Goddess, I will do whatever it takes.”

Wanda’s gaze remained sharp, though a faint smile touched her lips. “Good,” she said, her tone a low murmur of satisfaction. “Let this moment be a lesson to you. Your love is not just spoken; it is demonstrated through your actions and your ability to endure. Fail me again, and the consequences will be far more severe. I expect nothing less than absolute devotion.”

As the physical pain gradually subsided and your breathing steadied, the emotional weight of Wanda’s manipulation and subtle threats lingered. The chamber fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the soft rustling of her robes and the rhythmic sound of her breathing. In this quiet space, the depth of your devotion was both tested and reaffirmed, as you faced the complex interplay of comfort, control, and fear that defined your relationship with your Goddess.

[xo-arcie]

pleasures

jjk men headcanons x gender nuetral reader

author's note: I am just reviewing (perpetually editing) and reposting my stories from my main blog. Enjoy! word count: 1.7+ warnings: Sukuna is in this, so dubcon, edging, mentions of domplay, overstimulation, implied unprotected sex and oral sex

He would be a considerate top but only if he was smitten, committed and totally in love with you. He would be conscientious of your every response and reaction, the kind of man that would palm your scalp for the delicious pull of your hair at the roots, tilting your head back so you can look up at him while he other hand cups your chin; your attention would be rapt with how he towers over you. 

You would squirm under his heady gaze, your desperation to be filled by him vibrating off of your skin, but Kento would never rush his intimacy with you. He would be slow, gentle to pluck each thread until you completely unraveled beneath him, until you were soft and pliable, boneless and begging for all of him.

Kento would just relish in the mess he made of you, touching your cheek again with a low hum as he thumb wiped away the tear tracks streaking your cheeks. 

Even with you mewling for more, he would still restrain himself. He would want to savor you, attuned to every soft sound spilling from your swollen lips. And when you feel you cannot take any more, only then would he melt into you, sinking slowly with soft kisses that would litter every inch of your bare skin. 

You would burn from his rasped, whispered words of encouragement. “Yes, just like that. You are doing so well for me. Did you need to use our safeword?” 

But you never would. 

However, salaryman Kento would be an absolute dom, a man haunted who fell into the monotonous motion of the corporate world after he left Jujutsu High. The menial office tasks could never wipe away the horrors he knows exist, and that eventually that darkness will consume again, searing to the surface and vying for control. 

That is when he would visit the bar close by to his office. His eyes would burn to find someone wanting the same thing as him: to fuck senseless until you forget, even if just for a moment. He would be desperate for a sense of control again, and you would always be willing to help.

He would still offer a safeword, and you would still never use it. 

Suguru would be a switch because your pleasure is his pleasure. Whenever you want to take command, he is happy to lay back with a trust that he pours into you, that empowers you, and it makes you want to shower him with love and affection in return. 

He does not say a lot, but he still makes sure you are adamantly aware that he is enjoying himself. You can see that in the rose tones that flush his features with your sensual ministrations, plumes of color from the love bites you decorate his chest and abdomen with. You preen under his gaze when that lustful black swallows the amethyst of his eyes. 

He can be vocal in other ways: low hums and groans when your tongue slides up the underside of his heavy cock, his bated breath building until his climax spills–a thick pulse of pearly spend, hot and sticky on your palms. Suguru would arche into that painful pleasure of you cleaning him up, your tongue continuing to swirl his tip, suckling until he finally cries out. 

But as much as he enjoys himself, he definitely loves when you allow him complete control. 

Suguru would tuck himself between your thighs, his large hands curling to anchor you against him while his mouth pulls a relentless euphoria you never knew existed before him. He would not stop though, but would continue until you were brimming on overstimulation, tears pearling and spilling from your eyes. 

That would have him pause so he could kiss them away, but then he would manhandle you again, his fingers dimpling into your skin with a searing touch that would spark throughout your body, kindling a warmth in your core as he moved to meld himself against you. 

Even with his preparation, despite how careful he is to ease himself into you, he still has a girth and thickness that nearly cleaves you in half. You cannot help how you clench around him, your warmth enveloping him with your sinful shudder. 

He would take his time with the slow roll of his hips until your fingers are clawing at his shoulders, pulling him in for another kiss that he would return with a passion that flutters to your nerve endings. His pace would quicken and it would not take you long to build towards the prior pleasure, his thrusts pushing you back over that precipice of passion. Your thighs would knot around his slender waist to help balance the stutter of his hips as Suguru spilled into you with a low exhale, another kiss before he curled against you. 

Hook-ups and flings would not really be something that interests him. It would get the job done, but he always needed more of an emotional connection to spark any sexual attraction. 

And you would satiate that, giving him so much more.

Satoru is more of a pillow princess and it would amplify whenever he found himself in a situationship with a “casual” label. The man has had a lifetime of people falling into his ocean-blue eyes, easily swept away by the mischief that sparkles in them–and you are no different hussy.

He is content to laze on his back, his hands tucked to support his neck, his stark white hair a mess and his bedroom eyes prickling over your skin. He enjoys the view the most in this position, able to see the intimate hues that flush beneath your skin, listening to your sounds made whenever he decides to languidly thrust upwards, his hips meeting with yours until you see the stars. When he knows you’re close, he’ll offer a helping hand for you to finish, but it is because he loves the way your warmth clenches around him, pulling him towards his own peak. 

If you can successfully navigate the maze of emotions, if he becomes more invested, you would notice it only with the intimacy shared. In public, he would remain as zany as ever, his lackadaisical persona placed as a shield, but that is because the vulnerability to admit that he needs you leaves him feeling raw. 

But when it is the two of you, he takes his time savoring every inch of your skin, learning what it is that you like and taking note of what you don’t. He would still use his teleport technique to switch positions he is lazy, but as dizzying as it can be, his touch would ground you, the slow roll of his hips bringing you back towards that promised pleasure and even further. 

His tenderness would continue in your post-coital haze, a mutual comfort shared. You love how his long and lithe body curls to mold against you, and he relishes in how well you fit together. Satoru enjoys lying there, the thrum of your heart beneath your cooling skin, while his fingertips trace, his six eyes rapt to watch the goosebumps ripple in the wake of his touch. 

You are wrapped in his warmth, and you can feel his gaze, but you keep your eyes close and pretend to be asleep. 

And he knows this, but he never minds it.

You are solely a fuckhole for him at first, and he will dominate whatever he deems available for his own pleasure. 

But Sukuna would still pull you along. “I don’t like getting off on my own,” will be his excuse when he would come up from behind, his arms wrapping around your torso with his vice-hold, pulling you against his chest and his teeth sinking your shoulder. 

He loves to mark you, admiring his bruising bites that decorate your body afterwards. 

You hate yourself for it, but you are already burning from his heat, his proximity, and your body always responds to him: you nerve endings alight with his rough touch, pressing backwards for friction. 

His dark chuckle rumbles through you before he pushes you into the bed, enjoying how malleable, how willing you become with his commanding touch. You clench when he thrusts deep to fill you, your mewling symphony giving a rhythm to the brutal pace of his hips.

If he decides to keep you, and even though he swears his pleasure is the only priority, you find he will take his time to coax your body to handle him better. Simple, almost gentle gestures: a hand resting on top of your head while the other bites into your jaw to go slack, easing himself inch-by-inch into your mouth. 

Your tongue flattens to taste, to follow every ridge and vein–your strangled moans to fit him before your hand wraps around the base of his cock, fingers barely touching and your jaw aching open. His hand will follow the to cradle the back of your neck with a slow buck of his hips to fuck your throat. You gag, your nails biting into his thick thighs to balance, tears pearling, but you won’t pull away. 

You are desperate for him and he knows this. A cruel smile curls across his mouth as he watches you, his continued thrusts that bruises the back of your throat, spit dribbling down your chin and onto your chest. You choke when he goes too deep and it vibrates through him; Sukuna hisses through clenched teeth, and only then does he pull back to flip you over. 

He pushes your face into the mattress, burying his length into you. Your hands claw at the sheets and his bruise into your waist, pulling your ass back to meet with his hips. He fucks you hard into the bed, splitting you open, his each thrust sparking something deep and primal within you. 

You come with the same white-hot rapture that fractures through your body, boiling the marrow of your bones. Your mouth falls open with a silent scream, a sobbed release that shudders violently throughout you. 

You lay there for a while, waiting for your blood to flow again, edging back through your depleted veins, and the air soothing your lungs. You jolt when you feel his hand wrapping around your ankle, pulling you back towards the edge of the bed. 

Sakuna gives another throaty chuckle. “Our night has only just begun, pet.”

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