If you're writing anything involving cons, scams, heists, or morally questionable characters who are very good at lying, here are some free resources I've been using for research. Saving you the "why is this in my search history" anxiety.
1. The FBI's Famous Cases & Criminals archive (fbi.gov/history/famous-cases) has detailed breakdowns of real fraud cases, Ponzi schemes, and confidence operations. The language they use is clinical and precise, which is perfect for getting the procedural details right.
2. The FTC Consumer Sentinel Network publishes annual reports on the most common fraud tactics in the US. Great for understanding how modern scams actually work and what makes people fall for them.
3. The Smithsonian's American Art Museum has a free digital collection of forgery case studies. If your character forges documents or art, this is gold.
4. Court Listener (courtlistener.com) is a free legal database where you can read actual court transcripts from fraud trials. Want to know how a real con artist talks under oath? This is where you find out.
5. The Internet Archive's collection of old newspaper crime sections. Search for "confidence man" or "swindle" in papers from the 1920s through 1960s and you'll find incredible real stories that would feel too dramatic for fiction.
Bonus: The Psychology of Fraud section on the Association for Psychological Science website has accessible articles about why people trust, how deception works cognitively, and what makes someone a convincing liar. Essential reading if you want your con artist characters to feel psychologically real.
Reblog to save for later. Your WIP will thank you.
summary: once in a lifetime you'll switch bodies with your soulmate and see the world through their eyes.
sukuna is initially frustrated when he's plunged into darkness in the body of a weak and blind woman, only to discover that there's more to her than he was expecting, leaving him on a mission to locate the shogi-playing courtesan whose soul called out to his.
word count: 11k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, soulmate au, heian era, initially rude sukuna, soft!sukuna, true form sukuna, courtesan reader, sickness, blindness, depiction of violence and death, happy ending, hurt/comfort, honestly its mainly fluff, devoted sukuna, piv, cunnilingus
a/n: after doing my satoru soulmate au i desperately wanted to do one for sukuna so here it is! inspired somewhat by komugi and meruem in hxh and ALSO by lakan and fengxian in apothecary diaries (as someone requested that from me!)
At one point in every person’s life, they will awaken in the body of another.
They will spend their day seeing through strange eyes, living out hours as a person they may have never met, trapped within their new form until sleep takes them and they are released back into their own body.
Those meagre hours are the only chance a person will have to find their other other half, to learn all they can about the body they’ve awoken in. There’s no second chance, no opportunity to swap for a second time.
If one cannot locate their soulmate after the day they’ve spent as them, they can find no further help. All they can hope for, is that they might stumble across their destined lover by mere chance one day.
Or, that their beloved did a better job than they did at piecing together the puzzle.
Sukuna found himself in another’s body in his mid-twenties, awakening one morning in complete darkness, even though he’d been certain his eyes were open. It was a strange feeling at first, a resignation to a suspicion he’d held all his life that there was no destined person for him, giving in to the belief that he’d spend a day floating in nothingness with no other half for his soul to cling to.
His assumption was broken swiftly, at the realisation that he still held some manner of awareness even if his sight was impaired. There was a breeze blowing against his body, chatter sounding off in the distance, and soft sheets were pressing up against skin which surely wasn’t his.
This person, whoever they were, had a body that was exhausted. He ached in places he’d never ached before, his shoulders and upper back straining, like their owner had been carrying a weight beyond their capability. He felt desperately weak in that form, suddenly aware that he only had a human number of limbs to control, and lacked the strength and size he was used to commanding.
In the darkness clouding his vision, he was surprised to find that the blackness wasn’t as deep as he’d originally thought, able to make out fuzzy shapes in the dark which he could only assume made up his surroundings. His hand reached for his eyes, setting his lips into a grim line at the confirmation they were open.
His destined lover was blind.
Disappointment settled into his chest. He had never taken much stock in soulmates in the first place, didn’t really believe in love, but this just furthered his confirmation that the whole matter was a farce. He found respect for the strong - strength was the only thing that truly mattered to him, and yet here he was, in the body of a blind woman.
A feeble little thing hardly able to fend for herself.
What good was she to a man like Sukuna?
A knock on the door startled him. “Are you awake? The madam wants me to help you get ready.”
Sukuna said nothing, trying to figure out why it felt like your body wanted to draw in on itself, your pulse quicking in a seemingly innate reaction to the voice at the door.
“Please, I know you’ve been ill but he’s been calling every day for the past week, the madam doesn’t want to keep him waiting any longer. He’s been bringing forth all manner of threat, and if you’re not careful he’ll buy you out. I know that isn’t what you want. Just let me tend to you and allow him a visit. Keep his temper at bay.”
Sukuna frowned, attempting to piece together what was happening. It was hard without the visual clues of his surroundings, but based on the snippet of conversation he concluded that you were likely a courtesan of some form. Once again, his view of you, and the soulmate system in general, dropped through the floor.
Blind and a whore.
Perfect.
“One moment.” He called out, taken aback by the lovely feminine voice that fell from his lips. It was a soft, delicate sound, one which wouldn’t sound out of place accompanied with a harp. He found himself shocked at how much he enjoyed it, considering saying something else just to hear it again.
Finding the door proved to be a more difficult task than he’d been expecting. He’d already stumbled standing up from your bed, thrown off by his lack of vision and by feet that were ridiculously small compared to what he was used to. His centre of gravity felt all wrong, and his body felt generally unbalanced without his lower set of arms.
Moving at a snail's pace, he made it across the room, impressed that he didn’t run into anything on his journey over. He was grateful for the shadowy outlines present in your visionless gaze, certain that the situation would be made harder without even that as a guide.
Fumbling for the handle, he slid open the door. “Morning. Oh honey, you look like a ghost.” A hand pressed against his skin, and he was ushered over to another part of the room, grateful for the guidance. There was the sound of a chair being moved. “Take a seat.”
Sukuna hesitated, not quite sure where the chair was. He reached out nonchalantly with his hand, trying to feel for it while the other woman’s focus was elsewhere, seemingly rifling through a bag of something. Able to just about make out a black splodge in the centre of his vision, Sukuna took a seat, only to thud down onto the floor.
It hurt. It hurt significantly more than pain Sukuna was used to enduring. He’d experienced all manner of injury - he’d had his blood and guts pouring out onto the floor in the midst of a fight, but somehow this was worse. How fragile was this body of yours? He was glad that he wasn’t born as some weak human, grateful that the abominable aspects of his body increased his strength rather than weakened it.
How could you live like this?
“My lady?” The woman seemed immediately panicked, reaching down and easily hoisting you up by the arm, aiding Sukuna onto the chair. “I’m sorry, you usually tell me you don’t need assistance, I wasn’t expecting-” she cut herself off for a moment, leaving Sukuna in silence and struggling to read the room with no visual cues. “You don’t seem like yourself at all this morning. You’re being very quiet.”
Sukuna said nothing, certain that he could hear the hint of a smile in the woman’s tone.
It was said that when soulmates swapped bodies, you could not under any circumstance tell someone that you were a different inhabitant to usual, else the spell would be broken and you’d both be immediately sent home.
It was an option Sukuna had contemplated the moment the woman walked in, eager to return to his own healthy form. However, he was also a man of great curiosity and it wasn’t like he had much going on at his estate that day anyway. So he opted for silence, figuring he’d at least see, or hear, how the day played out.
There was no harm in that.
Regardless, the woman had seemingly sensed it immediately based on her sudden change of demeanor, but being likely as aware of the rules as Sukuna was, she kept her suspicions silent.
“It's Officer Sugawara who’s set to see you today,” she explained, soft hands running through your hair with a comb, giving Sukuna a shiver of pleasure. “You usually play shogi with the guy for a while and let him get drunk. He’s a proud man who’s desperate for a legitimate win, so you always give him your best and he refuses to give up until he’s too pissed to think anymore. So be on your best game, or he might want to pass his time in another way.”
The warning was clear and Sukuna found himself disgusted. If that man tried to lay a single hand on you while he was inhabiting your body, he’d make sure Sugawara wouldn’t walk out of the establishment alive.
Fortunately, Sukuna was an avid shogi player. He held a great love for the game and was self-assured where his skill was concerned. No one in his estate could beat him, so he was certain he could beat some Officer of the Shogun.
Although, he’d never played it blind - a fact that mildly concerned him.
He hoped the pieces were skillfully made with deep indents, else he’d be completely lost.
“Even though you’re usually talkative with me, you’re not all that chatty with regulars, so it’ll be fine if you stay quiet. On account of you not feeling yourself and all,” she said with a knowing giggle.
It took an ungodly amount of time for that woman to get you ready, and Sukuna wondered how you could bear experiencing such a thing day after day. It seemed such a waste to have so much effort devoted to doing your hair and make-up, and dressing you up, when you couldn’t even see the end result.
For all you knew you could look like a clown.
But Sukuna quickly became certain that wasn’t the case when he was led into another room, your helper grasping his arm in a steadying manner and making sure he was settled down on a pillow before introducing him to a man sitting opposite him. Sugawara wasted no time with greetings, letting out a gasp of awe at your radiant appearance and reaching out to kiss your hand.
Sukuna wanted to reel away at the feeling but remained still all the same. He hoped he didn’t have too much of a scowl on his face.
Even if he didn’t have any interest in you, he didn’t really want to ruin the life of some random blind girl. He loved cruelty, but even for him that felt like an unnecessary slight to a person who was supposed to hold the other half of his heart.
“You look gorgeous. Not sickly at all, might I add. I hope the madam hasn’t been telling lies.”
You were sick - outside of the blindness - Sukuna could feel it. At first he’d brushed off your frailty as something normal for puny little humans, but since rising from your bed he’d become aware that your quivering legs, aching bones and hummingbird heart were far from normal.
“I haven’t been well,” he said simply.
“Oh you poor thing, it's always the most beautiful ones who suffer the most.”
Sukuna found himself wondering what you looked like. He had a vague knowledge of Official Sugawara - he wasn’t an ugly man, certainly not one lacking in prospects by any means. He was powerful in his position in the government, and wasn’t the type who would visit some woman out of pity.
You must’ve been genuinely gorgeous to earn such affection from him.
It was a shame Sukuna would never know.
He wouldn’t look for you once he was back in his own body. He’d move on with his life and that would be that, leaving this day as nothing more than some distant dream.
The games of shogi went by quickly, and Sukuna found that it was easy to slip into your body without arousing suspicion. Once he’d gotten over the original barrier of having to feel each piece for their indents as he picked them up, he fell easily into the flow of it all.
This man across from him seeked little conversation once the games had started, and Sukuna was pleased at how well he was playing that afternoon. He didn’t let the man win once and, as your attendant had mentioned, Suguwara filled himself up with more and more drink. It felt nice to play someone outside of his estate, most of his servants were too afraid to face Sukuna in any sort of test.
It was equally nice to completely destroy a government official with his skill. He was certain this man was having the worst game of his entire life, unaccustomed to this treatment from the lovely courtesan he’d frequent.
But it was at the end of the seventh game, when Sukuna was feeling at his highest, that a disastrous hit would come to his ego.
“You’re really off your game today. I see you really aren’t feeling well,” Sugawara said. There was the sound of shuffling fabric, as if the man had leant forward.
“What?” Sukuna asked, the low disbelief coming out strange in your small voice.
“Your plays are much sloppier than usual. It feels like you’re going easy on me, given you usually destroy me before I can even think about what to do next. Today you’ve been giving me proper games. I don’t like it. You know I hate being pitied.”
Sukuna had to stop his mouth from falling agape.
He wasn’t playing bad games by any means, on the contrary, he was certain that he was playing better than he had in a while, happy to have a new opponent for once. Was this man really saying that you, the normal you, was more skilled at shogi than he was? He really found that hard to believe.
What would some blind courtesan know of tactics?
“Perhaps you’ve simply improved,” Sukuna mumbled bitterly, unwilling to accept that your mastery was greater than his.
Sugawara laughed. “How polite of you, my dear. I can assure you that isn’t the case, and we both know it.” There was some shuffling, and Sukuna sensed that the man was climbing to his feet. It was frustrating to have such limited vision, and he was glad to know that he’d wake up the following day able to see the world once more - he couldn’t imagine living like that all the time. “I’ll leave you to rest. When I return in a few days you best have returned to form, or perhaps the nature of our meetings will need to change.”
A heavy hand rested on your shoulder, wet and clammy against the silk you were draped in. Sukuna wasn’t sure if the disgust was born from his own thoughts on the matter, or from an impulsive response from your body. From your attendant’s words it was clear that you would never sleep with the man, likely keeping your shogi skills sharp to ensure he never won.
Once he was gone, Sukuna sat there in silence, thinking on the man’s parting words.
Were you really so talented?
Part of him wanted to convince himself that he’d been playing worse than usual on account of not being able to see the board, making it difficult for him to think out moves in advance, taking more time than normal while he grazed the pieces with his fingers.
But deep in his soul he knew that wasn’t the case.
He’d played expertly, and still that man knew his opponent wasn’t the real you. All on account of how amateur Sukuna’s ability had seemed compared to yours.
And as his day drew to a close in your body, he realised that he had to know. He had to play you, had to see firsthand just how dramatically your skill exceeded his. He wouldn’t believe it until he’d seen it.
The soulmate thing didn’t matter.
But he needed to meet with you all the same.
Just to sate his interest. That was all.
—
Months had passed since the day you’d swapped with your soulmate. Since the morning you’d awoken to a world of light of colour you’d never seen before, and would never see again.
It was a day you’d never be able to forget - the image of the grand estate you’d awoken in seared permanently into your mind, just like the face of your soulmate who had stared back at you in a bronze mirror. You’d gazed upon his body for longer than you should admit to, wondering for a brief moment if you’d misunderstood how humans looked.
That thought didn’t remain for long. It took no expert to understand that the man you’d been paired with was something unique - the very four armed monster who had half of Japan living in fear.
And as such, you wished you could forget your experience in his body, wished you could see anything but his oddly charming face, because your promised beloved was a monster of the highest calibre. But with only one singular day of vision under your belt, what you’d seen wasn’t so easily displaced, and you found yourself thinking of him often with a longing that you knew to be wrong.
You had told no one of the experience, not even your handmaid, who had outright asked what your body swap experience had been like, what your soulmate had been like, claiming that whoever they were had presented themselves as rather reserved when possessing your body. You’d brushed her off with a shrug, claiming him to be some soldier and nothing more.
No one could know the truth. If they knew you to have any link to such a terrible man they might view you as an associate, and someone deserving of death for something you hadn’t asked for.
The workings of fate seemed strange to you. Was it not enough punishment to be born blind? Why would you also be paired with a monster who seemed to view the human race with general disdain? You were certain he cared little for love, his servant had made that clear when you were in his body, so any hopes of having a soulmate had been stolen from you as a result of this pairing.
Part of you wondered if a man so vile as him might even take things a step further and track you down to put an end to your life, insulted by fate to suggest that it could control him in any capacity. Perhaps he would be further insulted to be paired with someone so damaged rather than some untarnished beauty.
You’d always heard he held great hatred for weakness.
Even so, despite your fear and desire to conceal yourself from him, you couldn’t forget him, couldn’t stop the flicker of longing in your chest you were certain all people held for their destined lovers. Because while he was unquestionably a monster, with a throne of skulls you had witnessed through his very eyes, he also seemed to be more than that.
He was a man of great loneliness, living in grand halls with only a handful of servants for company - and all but one of them would scuttle out of the way when he approached. He seemed to hold a great love for art, with his estate packed with paintings and tapestries and great vases, all kept in pristine condition. For a cannibal, he seemed to take great pride in the cleanliness of his surroundings, in the neat nature of his gardens and springs.
Even in his own appearance, he seemed to take great care, for there was no denying him to be a handsome man even with his unique features. He had a voice to match that beauty, one that you could hardly peel from your mind any more than you could forget his image.
His body was hard to maneuver, too big and confusing to control his many hanging limbs. In a way, it felt akin to your blindness, something different to the way humans were built to be, leaving him to struggle with an issue that no one else could relate to. You wondered how it had been for him in childhood - if he’d felt as isolated and scared as you had to know that everyone else was normal in a way you’d never been.
You pitied him, even through all his sins. You felt you could understand at least a piece of him from a day buried within the confines of his skin.
But still, you would never reach for him - wouldn’t poke the bear even if you could understand why it might bite. You were certain that someone like him would be unwilling to hear you out, unwilling to love or reflect on how he became the way he was - he would swipe your head from your shoulders just like everyone else, and that would be that.
So you would stay away, keep your dreams of him locked deep within your chest, and accept that distance was for the best.
There was more to life than soulmates.
Unfortunately, that choice wasn’t yours alone to make.
The madame had knocked on your door early that morning, with the golden light of the sun only just starting to peek in through your window. Lately you’d been having longer lie-ins and taking less clients as the cold of winter gripped the region. Along with the blindness, you’d been born with a particularly feeble body as a result of complications with your mother during her pregnancy, ailments which were always worse for you in the colder months.
Your bones strained as you pushed yourself up to a sitting position, calling for the woman to enter. As much as you longed to slip back into your dream of red eyes peering back at you with fiery desire, you were still beholden to the will of your employer, even in your months of weakness.
“How are you feeling, my dear?” She asked, as she slipped in through the door. You felt her weight dip the bed as she took a seat beside you, a gentle hand coming to rest on your shoulder.
“Mornings are always the worst but I can manage once I’m up and about. Has Sugawara come calling again?” Most regulars were understanding enough of your condition, and those that weren’t would generally be chased off by the madame or unloaded onto another of the courtesans. Sugawara was one of the few that generally wouldn’t accept such treatment, with only eyes for you.
It didn’t matter too much since the man only ever wanted to play shogi, and that was manageable enough even on your worst days. It seemed that he had no intention of laying with you until he’d beat you in a game fair and square, claiming that if that ever happened he’d buy you out and take you home for he would’ve earned your heart.
That talk always made you uncomfortable, for you had little interest in the man, but you were more than certain he had no chance at ever defeating you at shogi, and could therefore never lay claim to you - assuming he kept his word.
“Not Sugawara…” There was hesitation in her voice. “We’ve received a request for our finest shogi player to be sent to the mayor’s home this evening. Apparently the other courtesan houses have received the same request.”
“I didn’t think the mayor cared much for shogi.”
Again, there was a moment of silence. “No, he doesn’t. A rather unwanted guest has taken up residence in his home, and this is the demand that has come of it.” Immediately your blood ran cold, thoughts drifting away from the madame’s continuing chatter to the red eyes that sat so prominently in the darkness of your mind.
There was no question in your mind as to who this guest was.
And to call for shogi players had you certain he was looking for you. Would he execute you when you walked into a room so clearly lacking in vision? Put an immediate end to the one person who could potentially stir his cold heart if fate were to be believed?
It seemed like the only reasonable explanation
The request to send another in your place died on the tip of your tongue as you once again tuned in to what the madame was saying. “...make sure you’re in top form, I’ve heard any who lose to him are immediately disposed of, but I’m sure that man will be no match for you.”
You wouldn’t send another to face their death. You were the only courtesan in the house who was any good at shogi, anyone else would certainly perish. This was a meeting dictated by fate and you had no opportunity to run from it. You would face him head on and deal with your death graciously, greet your end alone in the dark just like everything else you’d ever faced.
“I’ll do my best,” you said to the madame, and that was the final moment you had for yourself, your sacrifice sealed by your words.
The rest of the morning was spent in a frenzied rush, dressing you up and perfecting your makeup, turning you into a sparkling beauty ahead of your presentation to a monster. Based on the quiet nature of your handmaid, the experience felt more like she was dressing your corpse for burial.
Neither of you spoke such a thing aloud, but tears dripped from sightless eyes all the same when she led you out to the carriage, the madam trailing behind her, sending you off with a soft farewell filled with a sense of finality.
—
Sukuna had undergone an annoying few months.
Steadily, he had made his way, region by region, up to the north of Japan in search of a blind shogi player whose skill allegedly eclipsed his own. In each area, he would call upon all shogi-playing courtesans to meet with him and join him in a game, in the hopes that one day it would be you sitting across from him.
So far, he’d been unsuccessful, and had left a growing pile of bodies and burnt villages in his wake, utterly irritated that the thing he was seeking still evaded his grasp. No one had beaten him. A few had come close but none of them had been blind, so he could be certain that they weren’t you.
He was beginning to wonder if you’d gone into hiding somewhere, forsaking your courtesan life entirely in a bid to avoid him. It wouldn’t surprise him - you’d been in his body, you’d seen he was a monster, a fragile little thing like you was probably terrified at the idea of ever crossing his path.
Either way, he’d still persevere. He’d kill every shogi player if that was what it took to get to you.
He’d recently found his way into the mountainous region of Miyagi, where winter was in full spring. Taking up residence in the mayor’s home in one of the more populous towns in the prefecture, he once again started his usual process of gathering the shogi players. Word spread fast and droves of them appeared swiftly, waiting to be called before him.
It went much as usual, with boring girls presenting themselves before him and providing him with equally boring games of shogi. These people were painfully predictable with no appreciation for the art of the game - really it was a gift for him to steal their lives from them, because he couldn’t imagine living while being so pitifully unskilled.
The pool of Miyagi courtesans was gradually running dry and Sukuna was preparing himself for another disappointing journey further north when his luck finally shifted.
He knew he’d found you the moment you walked in through the door.
You’d stumbled in meekly, eyes averted down to the floor as you bowed low and shuffled towards the centre of the room. You were taking care not to raise your head for him to look upon, and he quickly realised you were making your best effort to conceal your blindness from him, like you could keep your identity secret that way.
It was a futile attempt, for the very atmosphere around you felt charged, his heart picking up inexplicably at the very sight of you.
To say you were beautiful was an understatement. Everything about you was gorgeous, from your soft hair to the striking intensity of your unseeing eyes. You wore the finest silks and they hung off you well, complimenting your figure. He found himself eager to touch you, to rid you off your lovely gown and have his fingers against your smooth skin.
But that wasn’t the reason he had come, and he would play you before entertaining any other matter.
“Sit,” he ordered, taking great amusement in the shiver that seemed to run through you at the sound of his voice.
You dropped to your knees on the cushion before the board, hands pressing against the edge of the table. It was the first chance he got to take a proper look at your eyes, expecting them to be clouded over, but taken aback by the lovely colour your irises still held beneath that mist.
“You’re blind.” He observed aloud, taking note of the way your teeth caught your lower lip anxiously.
“I see more than enough,” your response was guarded.
He hummed, a sly grin settling on his face. Idly, he wondered if you could sense it, because you seemed to tense up a little, fidgeting across from him in a way his traitorous brain seemed to register as endearing. “Is that so? Do you see enough to know my strategy before we commence? Or will you disappoint me like the others?”
“You tell me.”
Your words had his heart stirring against his will, impressed by your serenity before him, still sitting up straight and calm despite the fear he could sense within you. You were a woman who held confidence despite it all, harboured strength even in the face of your obvious weaknesses. He wondered what you were thinking, if you believed he was there to execute you for the mere transgression of being his soulmate.
It wasn’t a foolish assumption.
He would kill you without a second thought if you were uninteresting to him.
But he’d reserve that judgement until after you had played. He had been promised someone exceptional and that was what he wished to see, anything less and your blood would stain the floor just like every other woman who had sat before him. Would you still be so calm if you could see the bodies littering the room? He assumed not.
He wondered if you hated him, if you cursed fate itself to be paired with a man like him. Nothing about you gave anything away, all your focus fixed on the board in front of you, your hands moving steadily against the wood of the board, as if centring yourself.
“Shall we begin?” He asked.
“Yes.”
Sukuna couldn’t quite comprehend what had transpired in that first game he played against you.
He had approached things in much the same manner that he always would when playing shogi - opening strong and attempting to completely overwhelm his opponent, and yet somehow he found opportunities snatched from him at every turn.
Nothing seemed to catch you off guard. Any attempted play was greeted with an easy answer from you, as though you were battling a child. You were always three steps ahead of him, never hesitating in the shifting of a piece, moving with a certainty that had him transfixed.
He found that he couldn’t draw his eyes away from you, his struggle on the board forgotten at the realisation he’d been well and truly defeated. There was no point in struggling further - you had swatted him aside in the way that he usually defeated others, and you had done it with no glee or brag, nothing more than passive indifference once the games finally came to an end.
Your shoulders were raised, as if awaiting something you wouldn’t be able to see coming. A strike from him, perhaps? Or the neat removal of your head from your shoulders? The same fate of all others he’d played across the last few months.
But he wasn’t in the position to do anything at that moment, lashes fluttering as he stared at you, his heart hammering against his ribcage.
There had been no lie told about your skill - on the contrary, you had exceeded his expectations spectacularly. He wanted to play you again and again, wanted to witness the beauty of the way you played, wished to spend hours lost deep in thought considering how he could even begin to pick you apart in a match.
He could spend years sitting across you, gazing upon your lovely form while you worked away in silence with such unquestionable mastery.
No wonder Sugawara had been disappointed in Sukuna’s ability. He couldn’t hold a candle to what you were.
“How?” He asked, unable to think of another word to offer.
Your head was still lowered, eyes fixed elsewhere. He wished you’d look at him, allow him a clearer view of your face, but it occurred to him that such a request may not be easily granted with your lack of vision. You would never be able to lock eyes with each other - it would be something entirely meaningless for you.
“You aren’t all that good,” you spoke softly, a smile playing on your lips.
Sukuna disagreed with your sentiment, considering he’d never been beaten before, but perhaps you’d consider all his previous opponents to be genuinely pitiful at the game.
“So, will you take my life now? Or is that reserved for the losers?” You asked.
“To take the life of someone I could not best would be cowardly and pointless,” he said with a snort. “How would I ever grow to be better than you if I extinguished you from the world? Don’t be foolish. We will play again.”
And again you played.
Game after game until the sun began to rise in the sky, and Sukuna could sense exhaustion drifting through your fragile form. You were shivering from the cold, and he had Uraume bring in a robe to wrap around you, keenly aware of how sickly you seemed to look beneath all the beauty. You were setting up the board for your tenth match when Sukuna finally put an end to things.
“Enough. I would take no joy in defeating an exhausted opponent.” He rose to his feet, stretching as he moved. He wasn’t keen on remaining still for long periods of time, but you seemed accustomed to it, staying deathly still upon your cushion, uncertainty evident in your posture.
“Then, you will send me to my home?” You asked.
“No.” The word escaped him before he could stop it.
He did not wish for you to go anywhere, lest you slip from his grasp never to be found again. It was because he wanted to play you more, that’s what he told himself, but there was more to it than that, and in his soul he knew it.
He never wanted the image of you on your knees before him to slip away, never wanted to lose the pleasurable feeling of warmth that swelled in his chest with you there within his gaze.
“You’ll accompany me to my home, and we’ll play until I’m satisfied.”
—
Weeks had passed since you’d arrived at Sukuna’s estate in the Hida Mountains.
You’d been given no time to bid goodbye to the women at the only home you’d ever known, swept off in a carriage down south where you had to relearn your surroundings in a totally new environment.
Of course, it wasn’t the first time you’d been in the estate, but that experience made little impact on the ease of traversing around with no vision. You had to move slowly, fingers brushing on blurry objects shadowed in the darkness, hoping you didn’t trip over something or walk into a screen door.
For the most part, you were left to your own devices. Sukuna had spoken little to you on the journey home, opting to ride on his horse rather than in the carriage with you, and he’d been equally elusive in his own estate, leaving you in isolation for days at a time.
You couldn’t complain, for your days were spent in peace and serenity.
You would take long walks in the breeze of his garden, have his servants read aloud to you, and practice playing the erhu. On days where it was particularly cold and the chill seeped into your bones, you would remain in the grand bed he had provided and find greater comfort than you ever had in the old bed you’d laid upon in the courtesan house.
The only obligation you ever had to fulfill were shogi games. And during the times that he wasn’t absent from the estate, those would take place every evening, in Sukuna’s own private quarters.
It was an odd decision, considering that the servants played shogi out in the garden, where a proper table was set up for that purpose. But it seemed that Sukuna took care in ensuring your meetings were private - a decision you didn’t dare read into too deeply.
You didn’t dare read into any of his behaviour too deeply, lest you rip your own heart from your chest.
That first meeting with him had been like nothing you’d ever experienced - genuine desire overcoming you at the deep tone of his voice. Even knowing that he could cause your death with little effort, you couldn’t bury the lust within you, a fire that only burned stronger with each encounter with him.
It was hard to hold it together, to pretend that you wouldn’t fling yourself into his arms given the chance, but you tried all the same, keeping yourself distant and cold, like you didn’t dream of him between your legs each night, imagining the sound of his voice whispering sweet nothings against your ear.
Whether he felt the effect to the same extent you did, you weren’t sure. You were certain you’d never know. His interest in you was surrounding shogi, and shogi alone.
One evening, you were sitting across from him having played a handful of games, finding victory had fallen into your hands even more easily than normal. Sukuna seemed distracted by something, the sound of fidgeting settling in your ears. He hadn’t moved to start a new game, and based on the shadowy shapes in your vision, you could only assume he was leaning forward upon the table, bringing him close enough for his breath to fan your face.
“I killed today,” he said. Those were the first words he’d spoken to you that evening - you always followed his example with conversation, if he was feeling chatty you would indulge him, if he wished for silence you would give him that too.
You weren’t exactly sure where he was going with that statement, nor were you certain what type of response he was seeking, so you offered him a hum of acknowledgement and little more. You didn’t wish to think of the death that stained his hands, but nor did it build your animosity towards him.
To some extent you could understand lashing out at the world when you were someone so desperately lonely as he was. Part of you believed that if you hadn’t been so frail perhaps you’d lash out at the world for your own condition. His primary servant had told you he’d been despised throughout his life, and when you find only cruelty in humans it's difficult to cling to kindness.
Sukuna wasn’t so simple as a mere monster. You’d understood that in the day you’d spent in his body, and had only further confirmed it by the intelligence he displayed when you’d speak over games of shogi. He had a great admiration for art and skill, and had seemed rather taken when you’d recited poetry, responding with verses of his own.
He was a multi-faceted man, and much of what you saw only seemed to further your attraction to him, even knowing it was wrong, even knowing you’d be hated for it. For once, you felt you’d found someone who understood what it was like to be you, to be cut off from the easy lives lived by most others.
A soul that entwined so perfectly with yours, even if he’d never be aware of such a thing.
“Do you wish to know who I killed?” He asked.
“I know few people, my lord. I doubt a name would mean anything to me.”
“This one might. I’ve heard you’re familiar with Officer Sugawara? He’s one of the Shogun’s men?”
Thoughts of your regular flickered through your mind. If you were being honest with yourself, you were glad to not have to see him anymore - him or any of the other clients you’d been forced to take. Courtesan life had been difficult for you, forced into it thanks to the conditions of your birth and kept there by a disability that made it hard to escape the life for something better.
Life in Sukuna’s estate had been easier, especially as the weeks passed and you grew more comfortable in the belief that Sukuna wasn't going to steal your life from you. You’d lived in fear of Sugawara buying you out, of being forced to live like some doll in the house of a terribly boring man whose voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard to your ears.
“I know him.”
“Knew him, would be more apt. His body lies at the foot of the mountain.” Sukuna spoke matter-of-factly. “He came to claim you from me. I refused and we couldn’t reach an amicable agreement, so I dealt with it another way.”
You weren’t sure how to react, struggling to process the words. That Sugawara would follow you down to Hida already came as a surprise, you hadn’t known how deep his devotion ran. But somehow, you found yourself rather taken by Sukuna’s decision, by the certainty in his choice to keep you.
To kill a man whose death could cause him issues with the Shogun might as well have been an outright confession of love.
Sugawara’s death meant little to you. Men like that died all the time, and they saw women as little more than pretty objects to own. Sugawara had seen you as an impressive party trick, a clever cat rather than a human with depth and desires of her own. You hadn’t wanted to be his, wouldn’t have liked for Sukuna to surrender you to him.
“Are you irritated with me? When I controlled your body you seemed repulsed at his presence. Perhaps you have a heart too soft for blood and death.”
“No- I-” You hesitated. “Did you do this to protect me?”
There was silence for a moment, and you longed to see his facial expression, but were forced to settle for the hint of confusion in his tone. “Of course. I’ve protected you since bringing you here. You can hardly protect yourself.”
You couldn’t find it in you to be offended - he’d been in your body, he knew of your frailty better than anyone.
“Why? Just because you enjoy shogi so much?”
“Somewhat. Though I must confess, lately I have been losing interest in the game. I feel I’ve come up against an insurmountable wall.” Panic filled you immediately, mind running at a million miles a minute as you analysed his statement. If he was growing bored of playing would he cast you aside? What use did he have for you if not shogi?
But then again, why would he kill Sugawara if he was moments from disposing of you?
“Perhaps it is the fault of my own discipline, for I’ve found it hard to focus on the game for quite some time now.” He hesitated, and you found yourself flinching at the feeling of a soft hand caressing your cheek, leaning into it once you overcame the initial shock of touch. “It is difficult when you have a beautiful woman sitting across from you. It’s even harder when my soul calls for you whenever you're near, drowning out any thoughts I might gather of strategy.”
“Oh.” You weren’t sure what to say, wondering if you should pinch yourself, for many of your dreams centred themselves around such a confession. But the touch had never felt so real before, large fingers brushing against the soft skin of your face.
“I wonder if I’d be more focussed if I admitted fate might make some sense after all. I have never denied myself anything before now, and I’m tired of denying myself you. You have captivated me thoroughly, and I believe the hole in my chest was carved out to allow you to one day settle there.”
The words were by far the most romantic statement anyone had ever uttered to you. In your time as a courtesan you’d heard plenty of cheesy and affectionate lines, ones you’d brush off and forget by the time the client was done with you. Sukuna’s words would burrow into your heart and remain there for as long as you drew breath.
Could anyone fault you for loving a monster who would speak such beauty to you? Could you be hated for finding one who had been cursed by the world just like you had?
“I have no care for the Shogun’s men,” Sukuna continued, “in my eyes they are little more than flies most of the time, an annoying thing to be ignored unless they brush too close. Would it amuse you to know I killed Sugawara out of jealousy? To hear that my chest tightened at the idea of you being taken from my side?”
“Because you enjoy having such a capable rival in intelligence?” You asked, a wry smile creeping onto your face.
“Because I enjoy you.”
It was clear he was waiting for you to say something. The words that had poured from his mouth were unlike any he’d spoken before, and although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the sense of restlessness that gripped his body.
You would not leave him in uncertainty.
“I have only ever seen the world through your eyes,” you confessed shyly, “the only face I see in the endless darkness is yours, and I dream of it every night.” Sukuna’s fingers twitched against your face. “If you’ll have me, I am yours.”
“Even though I’m a monster?” He asked. There was no remorse in his tone, nothing to suggest that he was pained over who he was, it was just an honest question for you to answer as you wished. “You were scared of me when we met. I know you hid yourself from me after discovering our connection, eager to ensure our paths would never cross.”
“Because I believed you would kill me. I thought you to be a man who would stamp out any notion of love and eliminate me along with it.”
He hummed in acknowledgement, failing to deny your statement. You knew it to be true - if you had lost your shogi game on that first meeting, he would’ve done exactly that. It was in his nature to love only that which piqued his interest.
“Especially to be paired with someone so weak, I thought you would consider it an insult.”
He scoffed. “You are far from weak, I’ve found it impossible to best you.”
“I meant physically,” your voice went small. “I did not imagine the King of Curses would favour a sightless woman, nor one so easily broken.”
He was silent for a moment, seemingly processing your words. “I was small and frail once. Perhaps frailer than you. I wish someone had valued me then for my other virtues. I’m big enough and sharp enough to make up for your failings and you are clever enough to cover mine.”
Your mind was reeling at the idea of him admitting to having failings. Your heart stirring at his affection, and his easy desire despite your condition.
“I had not imagined a soulmate to be so well suited to me, for my tangles with fate have always been cruel,” he said. “But you’re something different, something I need at my side, and I will be your eyes, your protector, whatever it is you want in order to keep you there.”
“Oh.” You were positively blushing, whole body trembling beneath the weight of lovely words spoken in that deep voice of his.
Your soulmate wanted you.
A man hated by the world and filled with hatred in return had a space carved out for you, a space for love you hadn’t known him capable of.
You’d loved him from the first time you’d met him, drawn to him by an inexplicable force which seemed to grip him just as hard.
Soulmates really were wonderful.
Silence had settled between the two of you, only broken as the table screeched across the floor, the barrier between you removed. Sukuna shifted forward and an arm came to rest around your smaller body, pulling you towards him. His lips pressed against yours in a kiss you could only describe as sweet.
He didn’t dominate you in the manner you believed a man like him would, instead he took his time, mapping out your lips and drawing you closer to him, letting you bathe in the warmth of his body against yours. It was almost like he was trying not to scare you, aware that you couldn’t see anything he was doing and trying to move slowly as a result.
You wouldn’t have minded either way, your fingers clinging to the biceps of his upper arms, desperate for more of a touch you’d only ever dreamed of.
People always said that to finally touch your soulmate was a euphoria like nothing else, and you truly believed them to be right. Your head felt like it was swimming, chest swelling as if Sukuna’s own soul had wriggled beneath your skin to intertwine with your own.
It was a little overwhelming.
“How I long for you,” he murmured against your ear, breaking the kiss. “I was foolish to have not had you the moment I laid eyes on you, I’ve ached for your touch longer than I care to admit.”
His fingers moved down to your robes, and your breath hitched at the touch. You were no stranger to sex, your job had required it, but the feeling as he undressed you wasn’t like any previous encounter you’d had. What regulars thought of your body was insignificant to you, sex was nothing special with them, just something you had to do if you wished to make a living wage.
This was the first time you’d ever been touched for free by someone you desired, and you felt suddenly nervous at your frail body being judged beneath his crimson gaze - especially when you couldn’t look upon him in the same moment. There was no distraction in the darkness to keep you from worrying about how his gaze might burn through you, imagining discontent on his handsome face.
A cold chill caught you once your robes fell, leaving you kneeling and exposed in front of him. A soft breath fell from his lips, fingers moving delicately from your shoulders down to your breasts, as if checking you were truly real and there before him. More heat flooded you as his finger brushed over your peaked nipple.
“Beautiful. If I didn’t despise the idea of sharing you with another I would paint you like this. Your body is worthy of that reverence.”
“I think my mind is probably more splendid.” You confessed. You had no eyes for awareness of your appearance, and had subsequently never really relied on it. People had said you were lovely, but you could never quite believe it, assuming that they were taking pity on you for your blindness.
“Your mind is exceptional. If I cannot beat you at shogi soon I have half a mind to ask you to assist me with real life strategy,” he said with a chuckle, fingers still trailing a slow path down your body. “But it doesn’t make your body any less lovely, and you cannot deny such things since you’ve never seen yourself. Let me be your eyes and tell you that you are breathtaking.”
A shyness overcame you at those words, head angled downwards as if it would hide your blushing state from him. He raised your chin with a finger, his nose bumping yours before capturing your mouth in a kiss once more, bringing you close against his bare chest. You were so lost in the comfort of the kiss, that you found yourself completely caught off guard when something wet swiped against your stomach and breasts.
Flinching in surprise, you drew yourself back in an attempt to understand what was happening. Sukuna laughed, a hand moving into your hair comfortingly. “It's my tongue,” he spoke easily.
Frowning, you found that his answer didn’t make sense, because still the wet appendage explored your breasts, sending your heartrate flying as it flicked against your nipple with impressive accuracy. How could he be speaking but also doing that?
“There’s a mouth on my stomach. Perhaps you didn’t notice when you controlled my body.”
You were ashamed to admit you hadn’t noticed such a thing. Sukuna had been naked when you’d awoken in his body, and you’d been quick to dress him up in robes, feeling rude to intrude upon the body of another without consent. You’d very intentionally not paid too much attention to the workings of his body, not when the first thing you’d seen was the oddity he sported between his legs.
The memory that he had two of what most men only had one, suddenly had you feeling a little nervous in your position. You had no time to voice such nervousness before he was picking you up, allowing his second tongue to continue its onslaught while he carried you over to the bed, depositing you down upon the silk.
His weight moved on top of you, and he swallowed a gasp with his lips as his monstrous tongue shifted its attention from your breasts down to between your legs, dexterously finding a path between your things and lathering your pussy with attention while Sukuna consumed your mouth. Tears pricked in your eyes at the sensation, unaccustomed to a feeling like that.
In all your years as a courtesan, you’d never been eaten out. Men didn’t come to brothels to serve women, they came to have their own needs attended to, and you’d done that in whichever manner they desired. You were grateful to have never experienced that feeling before, because it was a blessing to have Sukuna be your first.
Pressure built in your stomach over a series of minutes, overwhelmed by the way he seemed to be everywhere. A tongue between your lips, another between your thighs, hands squeezing your breasts, tweaking your nipples, more hands gripping your hips, pulling you up onto his secondary tongue to allow it a better angle to overwhelm you.
For the first time, you started to understand how Sukuna must feel whenever he played you at shogi - stumbling blindly in the dark whilst overcome from all angles with no means of knowing what was going to come next. It was pleasure in its highest form, and you were quick to cum with a yelp of his name, tears dripping from the corners of your eyes.
Sukuna broke the kiss, breathing heavily against your ear. It was a sound you enjoyed, one you could listen to all day if he’d allow you. “I have imagined you beneath me like this every night this week,” he mused, “my imagination is hardly as pleasant as having the real thing. You taste much sweeter than my mind could conjure.”
Again, you were flushing red. “Y-you can taste me through…that?”
“Of course.” You were certain he was grinning, “And I’m glad that I can.” His secondary tongue was still moving slowly through your folds, lapping up the remnants of your first orgasm, teasingly flicking against your clit and making your shudder.
The two of you stayed like that for a while, breathing quietly together. You weren’t sure what Sukuna wanted to do next, but for a moment you were happy to savor the warmth of his heavy body, twitching while he lazily continued his attention to your body. How you longed to see him, eager to witness the expression he was wearing while he attended to you.
All you had to go off was the erratic beating of his heart where his chest was pressed against you.
“Let me have you,” he murmured against your ear. “Let me make you mine.”
“I’m already yours.”
“Is that so? Then let me make it official.”
He shifted atop you, withdrawing his secondary tongue. In the absence of that heat between your thighs, you grew suddenly aware of a heavy pressure against your leg. Your mind jumped to the image of his cocks that you’d filed away in the back of your mind, gut twisting at the thought of either one of them pressing into you.
Sukuna chuckled from above you, a hand coming to stroke your hair. “You’ve seen them, haven’t you?”
You nodded.
“I can tell, you’ve got that scared little look on your face. It’s fascinating, when you play shogi you’re unreadable, but outside of that? You’re practically an open book with your emotions always written across your face.”
Pouting, you let humiliation wash over you. Nobody had ever told you that before. It was hard to guard one's emotions when you had no measure of how the faces of others looked. That was something you’d have to work on. At least you had the good sense to give nothing away when you played shogi.
Another laugh echoed from his lips. “Even now I can see your panic. It’s very endearing.”
Any protest or response you had for him faded away into the recesses of your brain as he shuffled on top of you. He maneuvered you carefully into a new position, raising your legs and placing them up atop his broad shoulders. You were grateful for your flexibility in that moment, because the size difference between the two of you made that no easy task.
Sukuna was watching you from above while he positioned one of his cocks between your legs, running it steadily through your wet folds in a way that had you shivering with desire, still not fully recovered from the actions of his tongue. You were quick to discover that his focus was on his lower cock, as the upper one bumped pleasurably against your clit.
“You know,” he mused, stilling his movements. “I’m surprised you struck no deal with me. It is what I had imagined you would do.”
“What?”
“I’d assumed I would ask for more and you would refuse me. I’d thought your respect was tied to shogi, that you would refuse anything from me unless I was capable of beating you.” Your mind moved to Sugawara as you connected the dots. Sukuna believed you’d made that deal before, as if that tiresome Official hadn’t dictated those rules of his own choosing.
Shogi was a game you adored, mainly because it was an activity you could excel at even without sight, unlike many other courtesan pastimes such as painting, which would forever be an impossibility for you. But it was by no means something you made all your decisions on, nor were you particularly interested in the skill of others.
If someone could defeat you, you would congratulate them for their win and move on, it would ultimately mean little.
To you, it was little more than a game. To various men, it seemed to be something held in much higher regard - a true mark of intelligence rather than a game for which one could learn and remember strategies to allow them a win.
It mattered little to you whether Sukuna could defeat you or not. Your affection for him wasn’t tied to it in any manner.
“To make such a demand would be wasting my own time. Why would I turn down a man I desire over something so trivial? Besides, my bet with Sugawara was made to ensure I never had to lay with him, that is not the fate I want for us.”
“So you believe I am incapable of winning?” He asked, with greater disappointment than you’d been expecting.
“I do,” you said with a giggle, “just as I am incapable of emerging victorious in a battle. We all have our strengths.”
A yelp fell from you as he pushed the tip of his cock into you, catching you unawares. “Yeah?” He asked, pressing deeper into you, his fingers tangling tightly into your hair. “Rather sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
You couldn’t help but laugh again - even in the midst of the dull pain of him driving into you, there was something so endearingly pathetic about his words.
“I am. But you’re free to challenge me whenever you like.”
He was silent as he bottomed out inside of you, his face falling to your neck and leaving a trail of kisses and bites along your skin while he allowed you some time to adjust. You were grateful for his consideration of your wellbeing, fingers digging into his skin, your gut aching as he leaned forwards over you, pushing your legs higher on his shoulders.
There was no question that he was the largest man you’d ever had inside you, practically tearing you apart with his intrusion, but after a few minutes of stillness you found yourself able to relax, the panic exhibited by your body slowly dissipating as you accommodated his size.
“I will challenge you whenever I like,” he whispered against your ear. “After this, the cloud of lust you’ve placed in my mind will be thinner, and I will beat you with ease.”
“Oh, I’m sure-”
Your snarky response was promptly cut off as he withdrew himself from you, only to swiftly fill you up once more, pulling a desperate cry of his name from your lips. There was no second adjustment period given, instead you found yourself clinging on for dear life as he filled you over and over again with swift and deep thrusts that had your eyes rolling back.
One of his hands moved to your stomach, pressing down against the bulge where his cock would press up inside you. It was clear he was fascinated by it, finding great enjoyment in you being claimed by him. You were certain he was no virgin, but it seemed that you were the first woman who meant something to him, the first one who was worth something beyond carnal pleasure.
Legs quivering beneath the weight of his thrusts, you appreciated the way two of his hands came to rest on your thighs, keeping you steady with each brutal snap of his hips. You were crying and whining, your hands blindly reaching for him but finding him just out of range in this position. Seemingly to appease you, he leant further forward, really testing the flexibility of your legs as he practically folded you in half.
Lips pressed against your forehead affectionately, and you enjoyed every single second of his attention, mind floating off on a cloud as your gut tightened with each careful stroke, your walls flexing around his cock. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, a feeling only heightened by the erratic contact of his higher cock rubbing up against your clit.
“You feel so good, fuck. I can’t last like this,” he grumbled, never losing pace. It stroked your ego to know of his desire, to understand just how much he’d been holding back since your first meeting. It was everything you imagined the joining of two soulmates would be - desperately euphoric and overflowing with pleasure.
Sex had never felt so good, it had never really felt good at all, and yet you could spend eternity with Sukuna buried inside of you, your bodies and souls joined just as they were always meant to be.
He was yours and you were his. It was just as fate had decreed.
There was nothing stopping the scream that ripped through you as you finally teetered over the edge, your body convulsing in pleasure and clamping down on Sukuna’s thick cock, eager to milk him for all he was worth. You were sobbing his name and writhing against the silk sheets, your hands gripping them desperately in an attempt to anchor yourself to something in the throes of pleasure.
Sukuna couldn’t hold on long after that either, spilling into you with a warmth that only heightened your pleasure. His other cock found its release at the same time, cum dripping down onto your stomach in a manner that you’d usually find disgusting, if it weren’t your soulmate who was doing it to you. He groaned your name quietly, and let your legs fall from his shoulders.
Without the barrier of your thighs, he settled himself down on top of you, pressing kisses all over your face, his cock still twitching inside your exhausted pussy. You let him lather you with affection, still trying to come to terms with this side of Sukuna. It had been what you’d wanted, what you believed he was capable of, but you hadn’t dreamed it would truly happen.
The most you believed you’d get from him was a lifetime of shogi matches, in which the two of you would remain close but never cross the line you’d been so desperate to leap across.
“Has the fog of lust lifted?” You teased. “Do you believe now you can defeat me?”
Sukuna let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Perhaps we will have to do that a few more times for it to fully ease.”
“Oh is that so?” You giggled, reaching out for his hair. He gripped your wrist and moved it into position, allowing you to play with the soft locks you’d been so eager to touch since the first time you’d seen them upon his head.
You wished you could gaze upon that lovely shade of pink once more, but it was enough to know he was there before you, yours to touch as you pleased.
“Mmm, I think it would help,” he purred.
“I’m sure that can be arranged.”
You’d give him whatever he wanted. You were his and he was yours for as long as he’d have you.
a/n: I had so much fun writing this one! thinking about doing one soulmate au for each of the jjk men because I find them so enjoyable to play with <3
anyway, for any crazy in love fans, the next chapter will be out towards the end of this week!
people always talk about someone getting fucked stupid but what about a top going stupid while fucking someone? their brain shuts off and they just become a horny mutt with the only goal of getting off as hard as they can, breeding their sub. incoherent whimpers and moans of pure lust and desire. just a thought
Men who take off your shoes, carefully peel your sheer tights to massage and kiss the arch of your foot before resting your legs on their shoulder and burying their face on your pussy vs. Men who toss you face down, ass up, and tear up a hoke in your tights so they can eat you out from the back through it
select your color effect + gradient then copy and paste the html text into your post (note: will need to be on the web or desktop version for to select the settings that includes text editor!)
GLITTER TEXT?
use dagrand39.neocities.org
offers a ton of different options, but simplest way to use it is to enter your text, select the color of text and glitter tile, and check whether or not you'd like to use a background (not using one makes the back transparent!) then click export gif!
you can download your text as a gif and then upload it as a image here :3
the creator is on here and has a post about it here so give them a follow if you use! :3
DIVIDERS + GRAPHICS?
(be mindful of the rules from each blog and provide proper credit!)
credits to me. feel free to use and save. of course credit would be appreciated but it is not required. I’m just making these for fun <3 dividers I’ve made to fics and things that are sitting in my drafts and decided to share.
synopsis. various nsfw links paired with dark and some milder tropes. you must be logged into your account to view these. viewer discretion is advised. side note, some of the captions of these videos are a bit graphic. i did not make them. just ignore.
an. this isn’t following the order of my kinktober list but oh well. SECOND NOTE: THESE ARE ALL ACTORS THAT WERE POSTED ON A REGULATED SITE. EVERYTHING IS BETWEEN CONSENTING ADULTS??? NATURALLY? it's all just fantasy/roleplay!
ᡣ its ok if as long as it's not inside, right? ᡣ masked man + cnc ᡣ breeding + size kink + mild ass play ᡣ desk pet ᡣ morning sex ᡣ (tw) public sex in the train ᡣ deeeeep breeding ᡣ (tw) ghostface ᡣ somno ᡣ stuck! ᡣ fingering both holes ᡣ pussy eating in his car
locking you in place while he plays with you ᡣ he doesn't care if you tap out ᡣ toys ᡣ riding ᡣ public sex ᡣ pounding + hair pulling ᡣ fingering + pussy play ᡣ groping + rough sex ᡣ 69 ᡣ pussy eating ᡣ fucking sideways ᡣ full nelson + breeding + anal ᡣ he won't let you play your game... ᡣ doggy position ᡣ titty fuck
dryhumping ᡣ thigh fucking ᡣ cunnilingus ᡣ reverse cowgirl ᡣ no moving away ᡣ somno pt. ii ᡣ how he makes you give him head ᡣ fingering ᡣ groupsex ᡣ mutual masturbation ᡣ size difference ᡣ tummy bulge ᡣ using you as stress relief after work ᡣ sex in the woods ᡣ riding and breeding
Risk assessment 18+ MDNI. porn with very little plot tbh, Powerplay, Hate-fuck on Toji's tbh, Fingering, manhandling, creampies, pet names, swearing, sexual intercourse in detail.
a/n: did ya' miss me? decided to take a small break due to work but here i am, to torment ya'll once more. Be afraid, heheheheh.
p.s. not my proudest work but decent i'd say! sorry!
SATORU GOJO—"EARN ME, SATORU"
Gojo Satoru was a man used to being respected, adored, fawned upon with reverence and lust. He's used to being wanted. Chased. He's the one people try—and fail miserably— to earn.
And he loved it. His soul probably fed of it. And he'd admit sometimes he might've crossed the line once or twice.
He might have crossed the line a bit, playing with you like that. So when the one he's been toying with, orbiting, desperate for in that lonely little corner of his soul—finally snaps?
He finds himself in quite the conundrum.
You finally managed to corner him in an empty classroom after his elusiveness. The hard lines of your face making him panic just a bit—or was he getting turned on?
You're clicking your nails against the desk, giving a hard stare down while he tried his very best to not succumb to those sinful eyes.
And the air shifts when you say it.
"You want me?" Your voice is low, calm—so calm it makes his heart race. "Earn me, Satoru."
He blinks. Smile falters. The grin he wears like armor slips just enough for you to glimpse the raw, aching hunger underneath.
You've never seen him like this. Frozen. Eyes wide behind his glasses, lips parted. Like he expected everything but resistance.
"You think this is a game?" you ask, stepping forward until his back hits the wall. "All that flirting, all that touching—what, you thought I'd just melt for you?"
"… Kinda?" He manages, a sheepish tilt to his lips.
You arch a brow. "Try again."
Something dark flickers in him then. A tension coils in his throat as he swallows hard, hands twitching at his sides.
"I don't want just anyone," he says, voice quieter now. Rougher. "I want you. And I don't—fuck, I don't know how to play this right."
"You don't have to play it," you whisper. "Just show up."
His jaw clenches. Then he leans in, forehead pressing to yours, voice cracking just a little when he says:
"Tell me how. I'll do it. I'll earn every piece of you."
And when he kisses you, it's not cocky.
It's pleading. Reverent.
Like he knows he's lucky just to be allowed this close.
His kiss deepens—messy, aching, hands finally claiming what he's wanted for too long. His palms spread across your waist, dragging you in with a groan like he's starved.
"Earn me?" he breathes, teeth catching on your bottom lip. "Oh baby, you don't know what you just unleashed."
He lifts you—effortless, all strength and control, your thighs wrapping around his waist as he pins you to the wall like you were nothing but his to carry. His mouth trails your throat, biting, sucking, soothing with a flick of his tongue.
"Tell me to stop," he mutters, breath hot against your skin, "and I will. But if you let me keep going, I'm gonna make a mess of you."
You don't stop him.
You grip his shoulders tighter as a taunting smirk makes way to your flushed face.
And then he snaps.
His hips grind into yours through your clothes, slow and claiming, every roll of his hips intentional. His hands are everywhere—one braced under your thigh, the other shoved between your bodies, tugging your panties aside like it's a problem that needed solving yesterday.
Two fingers slide in deep—fast, perfect, curling just right—and he moans against your neck when you clench.
"Fuck, you're already so wet—was that for me, or was that for the challenge, huh?"
Your only answer was a gasp and a roll of your hips.
He carries you to the nearest surface—a desk, maybe, or the couch you barely notice in your haze—and lays you out like something precious. His mouth follows his fingers, tongue licking a stripe from dripping core up to your stomach, chest, throat—every inch he can get his mouth on.
"You want a man who'll work for it? I'll ruin myself for you," he groans, before finally sheathing himself inside you with a desperate choked sound.
The stretch has your back arching, a cry spilling from your lips—and he holds you still, forehead pressed to yours, trembling.
"You feel like heaven," he breathes, voice breaking.
And then he moves.
Deep, slow thrusts that grow harsher with every slick slap of skin. One arm locked around your waist, the other dragging your leg over his shoulder as he watches your body take him, claim him. His words turn filthy, frantic:
"Say I'm the only one who can fuck you like this—say it."
"You wanted proof? I'll fuck it into your soul."
And when he finally cums, he does it with his head buried in your neck and your name ripped from his throat like a prayer.
GETO SUGURU—"DEVOTION EARNED"
You've been avoiding him. Not because you don't want him—but because he makes it too easy to fall. That calm, knowing smirk, the way he looks at you like he already owns you—you don't want to give him the satisfaction. You want him to want it bad. Want you bad.
So you tell him, half-laughing, half-serious:
"You want me, Suguru? Earn me."
And he smiles like he's already ten steps ahead.
—
You were teasing him—of course you were. That little smirk, the casual challenge, the way you threw your head back and said:
"If you want me, earn me."
Like you hadn't already ruined him.
So now here you are, pressed to the wall, your wrist bound in a silken black tie that smells like him, your pulse stuttering beneath his mouth as he kisses up your neck.
"Say it again," he whispers. His voice is velvet and venom. "Tell me to earn you."
You shiver, lips parted, defiant. "Earn me, Suguru."
He chuckles low—dangerous. "Oh, I will."
He undresses you slowly. Each button undone like he's stripping you of your pride. His hands ghost over your skin, barely touching, until you're aching for contact. By the time you're bare before him, you're panting—needing.
Then he drops to his knees.
You're not prepared for it—how his lips find the inside of your thighs, how he licks and kisses and devours without mercy. One arm wraps around your waist, keeping you steady, while his mouth works you over until your legs tremble and you're grabbing his hair like a lifeline.
"You taste like you're already mine," he murmurs, voice wet and wrecked against your folds. "You just don't know it yet."
And then he stands. Wipes his mouth. Smiles like the devil.
He lifts you up—effortless. As if you belonged in his arms. Carries you to his bed and lays you out like something sacred. You think he'll tease—but he doesn't. He's starving.
He slides in deep with one stroke, no warning, and the sound you make is sinful. He groans, forehead dropping to yours.
"Fuck, this is what I've been working for?"
His thrusts are slow, grinding, like he's savoring the feel of you, every squeeze and flutter. Your legs wrap around him on instinct, trying to pull him deeper.
"You're not allowed to run from this anymore," he whispers. "From me."
His hand wrap around your throat—not tight, just enough to ground you, make your head tilt back as he pounds into you just right, just deep enough to make your walls flutter around him.
And when your body starts to come undone, he says, "that's it baby. That's what I worked for. Show me."
You unravel beneath him, nails in his back, mouth open in a cry, and still—he doesn't stop.
He flips you, pulls your hips up, drives into you from behind so deep the air knocks out of you. One hand tangled in your hair, the other spreading you open, he leans down, voice harsh in your ear:
"You challenged the wrong man, sweetheart. I'll fucking earn you every night if I have to."
You're gasping his name like a prayer, and he groans as he comes with a hiss, burying himself to the hilt and holding you there, like he never plans to let go.
When he collapse onto the bed, boneless and wrung out, he presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, then your spine, then your cheek.
"Still not impressed?" he whispers with a grin.
You barely manage to breathe, "maybe I'll need a second round."
He chuckles, already hardening against your thigh.
"Then I'll just keep proving it. Again. And again. And again."
NANAMI KENTO—"EARN ME, THEN"
It starts in the meeting room.
The rest of the team has already left. It's late, the office lights are half-dimmed, and you're still standing, arms crossed, watching Nanami reorganize a stack of files that didn't even need to be touched.
"Didn't realize this was a dictatorship," you murmur, just sharp enough to make him glance up.
He exhaled slowly through his nose. "It's not. But someone needs to maintain order when you—"
You step forward, cutting the space between you in half. "When I what, Nanami?"
His jaw tightens.
You don't back off. Instead, you lean closer, voice low, hot near his ear.
"You're quite the talk for someone who hasn't earned the right to speak to me that way."
It's petty. It’s dangerous. It's what you both been circling for weeks.
He drops the files.
Next thing you know, you're pressed up against the glass wall of the meeting room, your back arching as his mouth claims yours like he's been starving for this.
"This is unprofessional," he growls, one hand sliding under your blouse, the other braced beside your head. "We're supposed to be coworkers."
"And yet here we are," you breathe, already undoing the buttons of his shirt.
He groans in your mouth like it physically pains him to let go of his self-control.
"You're impossible."
"Then put me in my place."
It's not a joke, but the look in his eyes darkens. Dangerously.
"You want that?" He murmurs, already turning you around and bending you over the boardroom table. "Fine. Then I'm going to earn you properly."
He yanks your skirt up, your panties to the side, and slips two fingers in to check.
You're soaked.
"Tch. Always the loudest voice in the room," he mutters against your neck. "And yet you're dripping for me like this."
"Don't flatter yourself," you shoot back—your voice hitched as he slides in slowly, thick and deep.
He presses all the way in, groaning as your walls clench around him. "Oh I'm not flattering. I'm reminding you." Each thrust is firm. Controlled. But brutal in its precision. Nanami isn't the type to fuck messy.
No—he fucks like he does everything else: with purpose.
"I'm not interested in temporary things," he says without breaking the pace, dark eyes and unflinching. "You ask me to earn you, I will. But you should know…"
Then switches it back to a slow, deep and melting pace that has you're eyes rolling to the back of your head.
"I don't give my effort to things I don’t plan to keep."
His hands grips your hips as he resumes the brutal place, angling perfectly to make you cry out. "You think I haven't earned it?" he pants in your ear. "Then say it. Say I haven't earned this—your body shaking for me. Your pussy sucking me in like it know I belong here."
You whimper, barely able to speak as he grinds deeper, faster, the table creaking beneath you.
"I'll take your silence as a concession," he grits out.
You're fingers dig into the wood, legs trembling as his pace becomes relentless, your body aching, mouth open in a wordless moan. You come hard, clenching around him, biting back a scream.
Nanami doesn't stop.
Not until he's pulling you back into him, pressing kisses into the curve of your neck. "Still think I haven't earned it?" He whispers.
You manage a breathless, "maybe… a little more."
His laugh is low. Dangerous.
"Oh?" he says, pulling out only to flip you around, lifting you effortlessly onto the table again. "Then I'll keep earning you until you beg me to stop."
And you know Nanami Kento. He never quits halfway through a job.
FUSHIGURO TOJI—"COME ON, FIGHT ME"
"You're unbelievable," you snapped, tossing your keys to the counter hard enough to make the bowl rattle. "You said you'd be there."
Toji looked up from the couch, unimpressed. "I was there."
"Fifteen minutes late, Toji. After everything was already over."
You weren't yelling—but your voice shook. That was worse.
His eyes narrowed. "So I was late. You gonna cry about it?"
You froze. That sting settled in deep—cold and ugly.
"I needed you there," you said quietly. "Just once, I needed you to show up and not act like it didn't matter."
Toji sighed and stood, lazy and heave and done with the conversation. "What, you wanted me to play house? Hold your hand in front of your coworkers like we're a fairytale?"
You scoffed, shoving past him. "No, I just wanted not to look like an idiot waiting alone outside the venue. Like I didn't make you up."
"That's what this is about?" His laugh was sharp. "You're embarrassed of me?"
"I'm not—" Your hands clenched at your sides. "You never even told me where you were."
He shrugged, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I was working."
"Oh, the kind of work you don't tell me about?" You bit back. "You want me to stay out of it until it's convenient to crawl into my bed?"
His eyes sharpened.
You knew you were pushing it—but it was already too late.
He stepped forward, expression unreadable.
You braced. "Don't you dare."
But he kept coming. "You wanna talk about crawling?" His voice was low, dangerous. "Last I checked, you were the one begging for it the other night."
Your hand seemed to have a life of it's own as it came up to slap him but he caught your wrist like he'd been waiting for this. Toji's grin curled slowly as your body tensed under his grip. "There she is."
"I'm not doing this with you."
"You started it."
He turned you around and pinned your arms behind your back, pressing you into the wall. You could feel the heat of him—chest to your back, thigh between your legs.
"Fuck you."
His breath skimmed your neck. "You sure?"
You should've been. You wanted to be. But you were soaked already, and he knew it.
He loved you like this—mad, fire in your throat, heat behind your eyes. He lived for the resistance. For the moment it broke. His fingers slipped under your waistband. Just enough to tease, to remind you of how this always went. Of how he always won.
Still—you fought. You shoved your hips back, cursed him out, kicked at his shin.
"Keep going," he growled. "I like when you make me earn it."
Your body was already betraying you.
You tried to run, to hit him, but he spun you toward him—mouth crashing to yours mid-insult, stealing your air. The kiss was all teeth and tongue and fury. You didn't break it—you bit back, fought back, until your head spun and your legs shook. You hated him for it. Hated that it felt so fucking good.
He pulled away just enough to breathe, lips swollen. "Say it again. Tell me I don't belong in your bed."
Your silence was damning.
"Thought so."
He carried you to the bedroom as if you were weightless in his grip, still struggling, still cursing—but he didn't strip you, not yet. He tore through the buttons, the zipper, the delicate fabric, until you were bare under his weight.
His eyes raked over you—still fuming, flushed, breast rising and falling too fast. You tried to slap him again, but he caught your hand and kissed your knuckles this time, slowly, teasingly, letting his teeth scrape your fingers on purpose.
"You wanna fight?" he murmured, crawling over like a predator. "Then fight."
You did.
You clawed at his back, bit his shoulder, shoved him off once—but he only grinned and manhandled you right back. He tugged you close to him, baring you to the cold air, his eyes dropping to your slick folds.
"Yeah," he whispered. "Knew you were full of shit."
You gasped when he spit on your pussy, thumbing it in slow. He pressed his thick fingers in first—no patience, just need. You clenched around them as he curled them deep, watching you unravel against your will.
"You're dripping for me, doll."
"Fuck you, Toji—"
"You are. Can feel how bad you want me even with your legs shut tight."
He didn't give you time to argue. Just lined himself up, still mostly clothed—shirt riding up, pants undone, cock heavy and thick as he dragged the tip through your folds.
And then he slammed into you.
You arched off the bed with a cry.
"Say it again," he grunted. "Tell me to fuck off."
You choked on a moan as he dragged out and shoved back in—long, deep strokes that hit everything. Your thighs trembled as he kept you spread with his body weight.
He was merciless—fucking you like he meant it. Like he wanted to rearrange everything you were too stubborn to say.
Your arms wrapped around him as you gave in, sobbing his name into his shoulder. That was all he needed.
He flipped you over—face down now, spine arched perfectly for him. His palm slid over your ass, gripping it tight. "You wanna be mad?" He growled behind you. "Take it out on me later. But right now—you take this cock and say thank you."
You gasped as he pounded into you, the bed creaking, his hand finding your throat just enough to make your pulse jump.
He fucked you through the anger, the tension, the silence that had sat between you like a wall. And when you came—messy, loud, shaking—he chased you through it. Bit your shoulder. Moaned in your ear.
"Shit—I'm gonna—fuck—"
"Inside," you gasped. "Please—Toji—"
He came deep, hips twitching, breath ragged, body curling over yours like a shield.
The silence after was heavy.
Still buried inside, his breath fanned over the back of your neck as he lowered his weight carefully.
He placed a soft kiss on the nape.
You didn't expect it.
"… I fucked up," he muttered. "I should've told you where I was. I'm sorry."
You blinked.
He didn't say things like that.
"I don't wanna be the guy who just shows up to fuck you."
"You kind of are, though."
"Yeah," he chuckled dryly. "But I'm tryin' to be more."
He slipped out of you slowly, ignoring the way you whimpered from the loss, and tugged you onto his chest as he lay back.
"You're not stupid for wantin' someone to show up for you," he said into your hair. "I should've been there."
His hands stroke your back as you rested against him, heartbeat still racing.
"So… we done fighting?"
"No," you murmured. "But I'm too tried to keep going."
He smirked.
"Good. I got enough energy for the both of us."
SHIU KONG—"TRY AGAIN, MR. KONG"
He had you backed against the edge of his desk, tie loosened, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled to his forearms like he was ready to devour you.
But you didn't move.
Not when his fingers brushed your chin.
Not when his voice dropped to that velvet, dangerous low:
"You're playing with fire."
You tilted your head, arms still crossed.
"No. You are."
He smirked like the bastard he is—slow, amused, cocky.
"Come on, sweetheart. Don’t tell me you dragged me into this office just to deny me."
You stepped forward slowly, only until your lips were a breath away from his. His cologne clouded your senses—something dark and expensive, like smoke and promise.
You let your mouth hover just shy of his, whispered into his lips:
"I've seen the way you look at me. Like I'm yours already."
"You're not?" he replied, eyes glinting.
"Not yet."
His jaw ticked.
"Then what the hell is this?"
"This," you purred, fingers trailing up his chest, "is a test."
He narrowed his eyes.
"A test."
"Mhm. I've seen you ruin people with a snap of your fingers. Saw how you made that suit bleed last week for talking too much. You don't scare me, Shiu."
A breath. His hand landed on your waist, firm, possessive.
"Then what do you want from me?"
"Everything," you said. "But you don't get to have me just because you want me."
His fingers flexed on your hip. You could see the storm in his gaze, the calculation behind every flicker of expression. Most would have folded by now.
Not you.
You leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. Not his lips.
"Try again, Mr. Kong."
And then you turned your back to him and walked out of the office with your heels clicking on the marble floor—leaving him there, pulse hammering, eyes dark, tongue pressed to his cheek in a rare moment of genuine frustration.
Oh, you'd pay for that later.
But only after he earned it.
—
He didn't knock.
Didn't ask.
Just walked in like the office was still his, even after you made it clear—he doesn't get to have you just because he wants you.
You looked up from your desk. He locked the door behind him.
Your brows arched.
"Should I be worried?"
His voice was low. Controlled. Dangerous in the way heat coils before it burns.
"Yes."
You leaned back slowly in your chair, feigning calm as his eyes dragged down your legs, already crossed, bare thanks to the pencil skirt riding high. His gaze snagged on the hollow of your throat where your blouse gaped just lightly.
"You've been quiet," you said. "Busy earning me?"
He didn't smile this time.
He walked over, hands braced on your desk as he leaned in, face inches from yours. His voice wasn't playful—it was hungry.
"I've been patient. Respectful."
"That's rare for you."
"I know."
His knuckles grazed your jaw. Slow. Reverent. Then dipped lower, down your neck, brushing your pulse.
"You made me work for it. And I did. So now…" His hands slid beneath your desk.
"I'm collecting interest."
You gasped as he yanked your chair toward him in one swift move, spreading your knees apart with a firm press of his thigh. You opened for him on instinct—and cursed yourself for it.
"Still think I haven't earned you?"
You opened your mouth to speak—he kissed you before you could.
No hesitation this time.
It wasn't polite. It wasn't a test. It was a claim. His hand tangled in your hair as his mouth devoured you—slow at first, then rougher, hungrier. Tongue curling against yours, lips parting you open. He kissed like a man who hadn't known peace in days. Like he'd memorized your taste and still needed more.
When he finally pulled back, you were breathless. Dazed.
"Still not yours," you whispered, defiant even as your knees trembled.
He smirked, pressing two fingers beneath your chin, tilting your face up.
"No," he said. "But you will be."
Then, his hand slid between your thighs and he hissed under his breath.
"Fuck. So wet and still trying to pretend you don't want me."
"I never said I didn't," you exhaled. "I said you had to earn it."
His thumb rubbed slow circles where you needed him the most. You clenched the arms of your chair.
"Then let me make a down payment."
You bit your lips as he lowered to his knees, undoing your buttons like he owned the hours between now and closing time.
—
You should've make him work harder.
That's what you told yourself when he had you bent over the desk, your hands braced, your breath caught, and his voice dripping from behind you like syrup—slow, sticky, sinful.
"You fought me so hard, baby. And look at you now."
Your skirt was rucked past up your hips, blouse half open, teeth marks already blooming down the slope of your shoulder. His belt was somewhere on the floor, forgotten.
He was buried inside you—deep, thick, unrelenting.
Every thrust felt like a fucking sentence. Like he was punishing you for every time you turned your face away from him. Every time you told him no. every time you made him ache.
"You wanted me to earn you," he rasped against your spine. "So let me prove it."
One hand pinned your wrists together against the desk, while the other dragged up your waist, past your ribs, until it curled under your chin and forced your head back.
"Say it."
"Say what—" you gasped, even though you knew.
"That you're mine now."
Your pride whimpered.
But your cunt clenched.
And Shiu felt it.
He growled—bit down hard on your shoulder—and fucked up into you with a devastating roll of his hips, so deep your vision danced. The desk creaked beneath you, the air thick with sweat and the obscene sound skin on skin.
"Say it baby. Or I'll keep you here all night."
And he meant it.
He always meant it.
You tried to speak, but it came out as a sob.
"You're mine," he murmured. "That body, those lips, that look you give me when you're about to disobey—fuck, I earned every part of you."
He reached around and rubbed slow, perfect circles over your clit, just to undo you fully. Just to tear the last thread of resistance.
"Who do you belong to?"
You moaned, biting your lip. But he gave you no mercy.
Just more pressure. More pleasure. More him.
"You, Shiu—fuck—you.
Your knees buckled.
But he didn't let you fall.
"That's my good girl," he groaned, kissing up your spine. "Now come for me."
And when you did, it was with your name broken open on his tongue, his own fall crashing into you like a wave he'd been holding back since the first time you said no.
Now, he had you, yes.
And he was never letting it go.
RYOMEN SUKUNA—"CONQUER ME"
"You think I don't know what you're doing?"
Sukuna's voice sliced the air behind you. Rich. Dangerous. Eerily calm.
You turned slowly, pretending the sway of your hips wasn't intentional. You weren't stupid—you knew what game you were playing. You just weren't sure how long you'd survive it.
"I think you're used to people kneeling the second you speak," you said, chin tilted. "But if you want me, you'll have to earn it."
His grin stretched slowly. Eyes glowing red, tattoos flickering like the crackle of something ancient waking up. And angry.
"Careful, little thing," he purred, standing from his throne, bare chest gleaming in the firelight. "You say that like I don't enjoy a good chase."
You couldn't even struggle as much as you would've liked, to make him a bit mad at least before he had you caged against a stone pillar of his private chamber. His scent—dark spice and bloodlust—wrapped around you. His hand came to your jaw, rough thumb brushing your bottom lip like he was already imagining it bruised.
"You think you're some kind of reward I have to win?" he growled, pressing in closer. "I could take you now. Ruin you. Make you forget your own damn name."
You didn't blink.
"Then why haven’t you?"
Sukuna snarled.
And snapped.
In a flash, you were thrown onto the silk sheets of his bed, your legs pulled apart with a strength that made you gasp. He crawled over you, the weight of him thick and heavy, the kind of domination that burned through your soul.
"Because you made me want you," he said lowly, "and now I want to make you beg."
Your clothes were torn away like paper. And then he was everywhere.
Kissing down your neck. Biting your chest. Fingers inside you—slow, deep, curling with brutal precision.
"You want to be earned?" he rasped into your ear. "Then earn this—take all of me, brat."
When he filled you, it was vicious. A brutal thrust that knocked the breath from your lungs and your pride from your chest. You clawed at his back, but he didn't slow—he pounded, each stroke dragging you closer to madness.
"Look at me," he hissed, grabbing your throat—not tight, just enough force your eyes on his. "No one touches you like this again. No one sees you like this. You're mine."
You whimpered. His hand slid between you again—pressing against your clit with cruel focus.
"Say it," he demanded. "Say I'm the only one who gets to see you like this."
"You are—fuck, Sukuna—you are!"
He groaned deep and snapped his hips again, starts blooming behind your eyes. And when you trembled under him, tasting surrender like victory.
"Next time," he whispered against your mouth, "don't make me chase. I'll hunt."
I love that the modern-day tumblr post equivalent of chain emails only requires me to reblog a relatively pleasant image instead of forward an email to a bunch of my friends and family members to quell my raging anxiety.
