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The Taste of Salt (Trueform Sukuna X Reader)

tags: trueform sukuna/reader, ryoumen sukuna/reader, eventual smut, slow burn, horror, cannabilism, murder, forced cannabilism, nudity, mutual masturbation, somnophilia, dubious consent, sleep groping, spanking, masturbation, submission, verbal abuse, vaginal sex, creampie.

trigger warning: mentions of babies dying and/or being eaten

Chapter 12: Ryoumen Sukuna

The glow of the early morning sun muted through the paper windows illuminates your reflection from behind as you observe your careful acts in front of the mirror. Already having slipped your gown over your head, you close the lacing in the front of your bust, pulling tightly enough to create a prominent cleavage, as the golden rings hanging from your ear glisten prettily. Though you enjoy the image of yourself in the clothes of this country, these robes are your own. They remind you of yourself, of your life prior to this haunted palace, before the wreck and the Lord’s presence. As well as his touch.

When your hands finish tying the lacing properly, you move them up into your hair to make your mane look proper. The thought of the Lord waiting for you in his chambers is an exciting one, you can already feel your heart wish to beat a little harder.

His insults and threats lay dormant in your mind. Of course you have not forgotten them, though his insistence on the more frightening words being teases have mellowed out their negative effects on you.

I hope I look proper enough for him.

You lean a little closer to inspect your face. After flicking the sleep out of the corner of your eyes, as well as rubbing away any stripes of sleepy tears and saliva-trails, you assume you are presentable enough.

He told me to be on time, but I do not wish to be too early.

It might upset him.

Though he did not mind yesterday…

You nod at your reflection for encouragement, before turning and moving to the entrance. The man’s façade did not visit you in your dreams this night, nor did his actual self appear in your room. As you walk through the palace, you can feel a small smile begin to paint your face at the thought of nearing his chambers.

How silly of me.

You shake your head at your visible weakness.

He is the King of Curses.

I have seen him kill people.

Eat people.

Why must he make me feel this way?

Traversing the stuffy, dark corridors as your inners begin to stir with anticipation, your socked feet patter softly over the floor. The image of the Lord’s nude body flashes in your mind, the touch of your fingers on his bare skin while undressing him heats you up from the inside out. You remember only glancing down briefly at his privates, but it was still enough time for the image to burn itself into your mind. Both of them were large, with ink bands wrapping around the girth. You can feel an itch arise at the thought between your thighs, you swallow away the rising saliva in your mouth to suppress any signs of arousal.

As you wade through the wide hallway leading up to his room, your hand raises swiftly to knock on the wood as soon as you near the door.

“Enter.” His deep voice sounds before you knock, just like the night prior. You do not suppress your smile at his attractive voice, and slide the door open smoothly. With a lowered gaze, you enter the room and swiftly close the entrance behind you. Turning back around, you observe the man sitting on the bench, leaning forward.

The Lord’s head turns to greet you, you bow properly. No hum follows, making you hold your bend posture for a long enough moment to allow him to observe you thoroughly. He takes his time, those hot red eyes roam over your whole being with precision.

“You are wearing your own gown.” His deep voice breaks the silence, finally allowing you to raise yourself straight. His crimson gaze immediately falls upon your chest, more specifically the cleavage your dress has created.

“Yes, my Lord.” You respond with a soft voice, a smile still resting atop your face.

“This one is new.”

“I made it in your absence, my Lord.”

“Mmh…” He hums deeply, eyes still lingering on your bosom. When they roll up to meet yours, he nudges his head for you to come closer. Without having to be told verbally, you nod and begin to move.

“Go grab me some clothes.” His new command stops your tracks after just a few steps, your brow furrows ever so slightly at his words.

“Yes, my Lord. Where can I find those?” He does not respond, instead he simply holds his stare. You understand that he has no intention of telling you, when your head begins to twist and turn to scan the room, you can see a smirk settle on his face in the corner of your eye.

You look at the other side of the room, the messes all stuffed away in bookcases and cupboards. When your eyes find the screen divider, you understand that must be the location of his clothes.

Your feet begin to move towards the area with a quick pace, not wanting to keep the man waiting for too long. That, and the prospect of helping him dress is rather exciting for you.

When you reach past the screen, you’re met with a wall covered with hangers. Each of them contains a set of robes, all clearly made specifically for the Lord, given their size and the addition of an extra set of sleeves. The contrast between the stuffed cases and cupboards behind you, compared to this rather empty area is prominent, though you do not let it distract you. Stepping closer towards the garments, you remove yourself out of sight from the Lord. The departure of his warm eyes observing your figure makes you wish to return to him as soon as you can.

There’s many sets ready to be worn; crimson with black, different shades of blue, white with dark blue details. You choose the latter, remembering how the Lord wore something similar when he both departed and returned to the palace.

Reaching your arms up to grab the hanger, you must stand on the tips of your toes to reach properly. When your fingers finally graze past the top edge, you swiftly close them around it and remove the robes from the wall. Making sure to scoop up the bottom of the long garments with your other arm to not let it brush over the floor, you step away from the screen.

The Lord’s gaze meets you the moment you step back into view. He glances down at the set you chose, before rolling his eyes back up at you. A single nod of his head encourages you to step closer, a soft smile settles nicely on your face.

“Proper choice.” He speaks contently as he raises himself to stand.

“Thank you, my Lord.” Your cheeks begin to heat with a blush at the praise as you near him. You put the robes down on the bench, while the Lord pushes down his pair of hakama trousers. After separating all the layers from each other and laying them in order, you turn to face the nude man properly. “Do you wish for me to dress you, my Lord?” You ask regardless of your assumptions.

“I command it.” He corrects your choice of words in a manner befitting of him. You nod, before reaching beside you for the nagagi. Unsure how to reach his shoulders properly, you fold open the long garment at the middle seam and step behind the man. You present the two armholes on one side to the corresponding set of arms, he sticks them through with ease. As you pull the sleeves upwards, you must reach your arms high above you to lay the fabric down onto his top shoulder somewhat properly.

You repeat the process on the other side, nearly straining your traps in the process. When you step back towards the front of the man, you can feel your breath hasten as you grab onto the edges of the robe. Your eyes glance up at his for only a short moment, yet enough to allow your gazes to meet each other. Though his expression is as neutral as ever, his eyes graze past yours warmly, familiarly. You swallow some air at their touch, before moving your focus back to the garments.

Closing his nagagi properly, you make sure not to pay any attention to the Lord’s privates, no matter how hard they appear to be growing in the corner of your eyes. You reach for the hakama, and kneel down before the Lord to allow him to step into the trousers. After he does, you raise yourself up slowly, pulling the waist upward as you do. As the band brushes passed the hardened bulge, you can feel your cheeks burn an even brighter red than before.

To your surprise, the Lord does not comment on your visible weakness, instead allowing you to continue with your movements. After retrieving the haori, you repeat the same steps you did with the nagagi; moving behind him and pulling his arms through the sleeves. You step back towards his front, and look up at his eyes.

“Is there more I can be of service of, my Lord?” You speak with the neat tone you have copied from those in the kitchen.

“Stop speaking as if you are a servant.” He moves to sit down on the bench once more, leaning forward.

“…My Lord?” Confusion riddles your voice at his command.

“Act befitting of your station.”

“Am I not?”

“I do not dine nor break my fast with maids, do I?”

“No, my Lord. You do not.” You suppose.

“I do not.” He reiterates once more, forcing the fact to bore into your skull.

But…

What am I, then, if not a servant maid?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound from the door catches your attention, though you know to keep your gaze fixed onto the Lord. He seems pleased with your awareness, a twitch at his lips tells you so.

“Enter.” He bellows before you, the regular sounds of folk entering the room and placing down things rings through the space. Never do you take your eyes off of him, as his roam all over your body once more. He does it so shamelessly, it almost feels normal to you. Though that rising heat between your thighs betrays the notion quickly.

“Come.” The Lord speaks once the servants have left the room, standing up as he does. You follow the man obediently, before sitting down in your spot while he does with his. With large and eager eyes, you observe the breakfast set out before you. It’s not the usual mixture you took from the servant’s cauldron every morning. Instead, there’s your favourite broth with extra seaweed, rice, fruits and pickled vegetables. It’s similar to supper, though the presentation makes it appear much different. There’s even a cup of what you think is tea placed on your tray.

“You will eat this from now on.” His deep voice sounds at the opposite side of the table. Your eyes roll up to him, a content smile has pulled at your lips.

“Yes, my Lord.” You respond gladly, before lowering your eyes once more the moment the man begins to consume his food.

You cherish these new flavours caressing your palette. Though it truly did not appear that different from dinner, the tastes are all changed. You can tell more salt has been added to every dish, to your delight. You save the broth for last, of course.

After putting the soup bowl down, your hands reach for the small cup of tea. While looking inside, you can see some leaves and branches float within. Smelling the substance carefully, it’s clear the drink is more like a tincture, though the sweet smell of honey attempts to mask most of the bitterness. Glancing up at the Lord’s tray, there is no such cup resting atop his.

Perhaps that strange woman made it for me..?

“Drink the tea, girl.” The Lord tells you as soon as he notices your apprehension. You take a careful sip in compliance. As assumed, the sweetness is the dominant flavour, grassy green leaves and woody herbs beneath it. Only when you finish the full cup and put the empty vessel back onto the tray do you dare speak.

“May I ask what it is for?”

“Your ailments or such.” The Lord answers rather disinterestedly.

“I see.” Your brows frown slightly, currently not suffering from any monthly bleedings or other discomforts. “Why am I given it?”

“Uraume insisted.”

“Uraume?” Though they have helped you with your struggles in the past, there is no reason for them to do so now. Especially when there is no problem to speak of. The Lord does not respond to your question, instead raising himself onto his feet.

“Be absent from this part of the palace until supper.” He changes the subject as he walks towards the armchair besides his bed. “There will be visitors, do not let them see you.”

“My Lord?” You ask him for clarification as he grabs the kiseru from the small table.

“Do not question me, girl.” A flame escapes his finger, alighting the substance in the pipe.

“Yes, my Lord.” You suppose these guests are what Uraume had to make preparations for yesterday.

“You can take your leave, now.”

“…Is there no more you wish from me, my Lord?” A deep chuckle escapes the sitting man.

“Not at the moment, wench. I have things to do.” He waves one of his free hands in dismissal, accentuating his words.

“Yes, my Lord.” You respond with a soft voice, before raising yourself up. His warm eyes follow your movements as you leave the room. Only when you close the door behind you do you glance at him one last time, observing another twitch pull at his lips as your eyes meet his for but a second.

---

“There she is.” The old woman by the counters exclaims as you enter through the door, not even turning around to look at you. You see the two others sit at the table already, you move towards them with a steady pace.

“The Lord’s favourite.” The young woman throws you a playful smile.

“More like his pet.” The man scoffs in response. You smile softly at both.

“Perhaps still just a girl.” You correct both while sitting down, though are unsure what your true position is, especially after the Lord refused you to be a servant maid.

“Not according to the tales.” The young woman tells you as the older one sits down as well.

“What tales?” Your voice asks with care as your elbows rest on the wooden surface before you.

“There’s been talk.” The elder lady sighs, seemingly annoyed at the young one. “Servants passed your study yesterday. Reported certain… suggestive noises.” Her words make you exhale audibly, before your head drops into your hands.

Of course they heard.

Of course they told.

They’ll think I am securing my safety through intimacy.

They’ll think me a whore.

Gods, I’m ruined…

“There, there.” The young woman beside you pats your shoulder in an attempt to comfort your discontent self.

“It is not our place to ask, but…” The older opposite you speaks.

I am no servant, he told me.

I must not act weak or ashamed.

I must keep my pride.

“No.” You raise your head back up out of your palms, holding it high, regardless of your rising sense of shame. “It is not.”

I must hold my head high.

The words repeat in your mind, as they did so many weeks ago. Though this time it is not regarding the notion of your early demise, rather your position here in the palace in context of being the Lord’s possession.

The old woman looks at you with slightly widened eyes, aghast at your sudden stern voice.

“I apologise, but the matter of the Lord is not to be discussed.”

“I see.” She responds somewhat quietly. “Though you must know people will speak regardless.”

“They will. There is nothing to be done of that, nor does it mean I must entertain such gossip.”

“…So it is true.” The man speaks beside the old woman, his voice as taken aback as hers. “He has claimed you.” The exact choice of words nearly makes your reclaimed composure shift, though you manage to stop it in time.

“Claim?” You respond, feigning ignorance. The man simply nods, seemingly unable to see through your lie.

“You are truly his.” The woman beside you speaks.

“You are cursed.” The old one continues.

“Cursed?” This time, your unknowing is not false, your eyes squint at the wrinkled woman before you.

“He is a sorcerer, girl.” She tells you information you already knew. “He knows all of curses and pacts. It is most likely he has placed one on you.”

“And what would that entail?” You attempt to keep your voice stable, though slight worry begins to seep through.

“I do not know, though I can imagine it means you must not leave his side, lest you wish to be… harmed.”

“No.” You shake your head with furrowed brows after letting the words marinate within your mind for a moment. You know if he truly has cursed you, it was before his departure. “I was okay while he was away. It must not be true, then.”

“It could be the palace, too.” The man interjects with his thoughts. “Perhaps it is either distance from these grounds or him that would truly harm you. Or both.”

Though you do not wish to believe such folly, remembering Uraume’s apprehension to let you stray too far from the palace grounds rings in your mind. It seems the others at the table observe your thinking eyes.

“Do not fret, girl.” The old woman’s kind voice tells you quickly, seemingly already having forgotten about your strict tone earlier. “Perhaps it is not true.”

“Perhaps.” You agree, though cannot help but think it is certainly not out of character for the Lord to bestow such a torture on someone. You do not believe you are an exception.

“Perhaps not.”

---

The pleasant breeze of the late afternoon blows against your skin, the fresh scent of grass and green brought to you on a platter. The gazebo is the most pleasant place to spend your afternoons after studying, you have found. Though today you skipped your trip to the study, obeying the Lord’s orders of absence carefully, and went here straight after leaving the kitchen. The cat is here to accompany you, as per usual, laying stretched out beside you on the bench.

Turning the page of your poetry book, you keep the words inside of your head. It’s much easier to read this way, not having to focus on the pronunciations of difficult words and symbols.

“That one is different.” The voice of an old man calls from before you, causing your eyes to flash away from the paper and into his direction. The gardener stands by the wooden stairs of the structure, a pleasant smile painted across the elders face. His wrinkles are sunk deep into his skin, as he leans his frail body against the rake he’s holding with trembling hands.

“Yes, I grew tired of reading the previous one so many times.”

“Good, that means you are learning.” You flash him a soft smile as you lower the book onto your lap, text-side down so you won’t lose track of where you were.

“May I?” He asks while pointing at the other bench in the small structure, you quickly nod in agreement.

“Of course. No need to ask.”

“Is that so?” His ages voice asks somewhat playfully as he traverses the steps. “That is not what I have heard.”

“I see…” You respond with a small sigh. “So the rumours reached even your ears.”

“Yes, despite my failing hearing, the conversations are loud enough to hear.” He rests his body onto the bench with care, using the rake as a stabiliser.

“How bad is it?”

“In what way, girl?”

“How I am portrayed, I mean.” The man shrugs to your careful words.

“I assume it is what you expect.”

“So the servants truly believe me to be a harlot?” You nearly scoff as the words exit your mouth, never having done anything to offend those that now think so little of you.

“That as well.” He nods his head carefully as to not crack his weak neck. “But perhaps mainly his object of desire.”

“…An object?” Though you know you are his possession, perhaps even his slave, to be named an object takes it a bridge too far.

“You have always been seen as odd, you know that. What difference is there between a strange apparition and an inanimate one?” You swallow at his words.

“I am still a person. I am still me.”

“Is that wise?” His question makes you frown. “Would it not be better to lose yourself? To protect what little of you remains by locking it away?”

“No.” You shake your head quickly after he repeats the notion that strange woman spoke a day earlier. “I will not allow to be stripped even further from who I am.”

“A valiant thought.” He leans his hunched body slightly closer to you. “But do you truly believe he will let you?”

“Why would he care?”

“For the same reason you eat with him.” The man leans back again, his eyes roaming you up and down. “It is why you learned his tongue. Drank that tincture. Read his poetry.”

“And why is that, then?” You choose to not get stuck on the details, rather focussing on the bigger picture.

“That is a question only the Lord is able to answer, so ask him.” The man raises himself to his feet once more, turning his body to walk away and reattend to his duties. Before he departs the gazebo, however, he glances you one last look over his weak shoulder. “He is awaiting your return, after all.”

You watch the man leave on the dirt trail with slightly confused eyes, unknowingly squeezing the book’s papers between your fingers.

The Lord does not care.

The old man clearly does not know what he is speaking of.

You close the book in your hand with a sigh, before glancing at the sweet feline beside you.

Though he did know about the tea…

How could he?

Perhaps the servants who collected the dishes could see I drank it..?

That must be the reason.

You raise yourself onto your feet, ready to return to the man who is waiting for you.

These walls have much more eager tongues and ears than I had envisioned.

Are the servants not frightened of the Lord?

Though I suppose he does not care for gossip…

The notion makes your head raise higher once more, as you traverse the path headed for the nearest entrance to the palace.

Nor should I.

---

After walking through the dusty corridors for a moment, you pass the kitchen. The smells seeping through the walls are familiar to you, they remind you of your supper with the Lord these past two days. You feel inclined to open the door and greet whomever is cooking, wishing for it to be Uraume, though you know if the food is already being prepared, the Lord is most definitely expecting your return sooner rather than later. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you hasten your pace as you traverse the familiar route.

As your quick steps near the area of the throne room, you can hear noises begin to rise in the distance.

…Am I too early?

You swallow at the rising worry within you. If you turn back now and the Lord has truly been waiting for you, he will be upset at your absence. But he did tell you to stay out of sight, and if his visitors are still here…

Your brow furrows at the confliction.

What am I to do?

The sounds seem to approach you fast, not allowing you much time to think. Looking at the walls of the hallway, your eyes locate the nearest door. Without hesitation, you rush your feet towards it and slide it open quickly, before entering the dark room. You close the door behind you, though your curiosity keeps it from shutting completely. A small slither remains, just enough for your eye to peak through and observe the Lord’s guests. Their sounds seem to have entered this specific corridor, meaning you were just in time to hide.

A few pairs of footsteps ring out, you guess there must be four or five people in the group. Your eyes focus on the small visible area before you, as their voices ring out closer and closer with every step.

“I must admit, his decision surprised me.” One of the voices speaks, it sounds rather deep.

“Nonsense, Lord Sukuna has always been known to gain interest in such offers.” A different voice responds, this one sounding more higher pitched.

“Yes, but to refuse the offer of those two for one?”

“It is not one. It is a pregnant one.” An ominous sounding voice chuckles. “A more luxurious delicacy is not to be found.”

“Yes, my lord.” The first voice agrees.

“Yes, my lord.” The other sounds as well. Now that the party has reached closer, you can hear soft, muffled cries accompany the rest of the noises.

“I am well aware of Sukuna’s preferences.” The sinister voice speaks once more, sounding nearly beside you. “We go far back, he and I.”

“Then why bring these two?” The higher voice asks.

“Best not to arrive empty handed, no?” The ominous one chuckles.

Only a short moment after his last sound, the figure passes your small bit of view. His appearance is quite uncanny, the scent lingering to him reminds you of the throne room. Decay and rot.

When your eye glances up at his face, you can barely make out any distinguishable features. Only a scar running across his forehead is visible to you, before the figure leaves your sight. Two others pass, they must be the voices you heard. After them, two young looking girl follow, bound and gagged.

They’re leaving.

Good.

I won’t have to butcher them, then.

As the footsteps gain more distance from you with the seconds, you await their full departure from the hallway with slight impatience. Though the time does allow their conversation to settle in your mind.

The two girls were not accepted.

Instead he wanted a pregnant one.

The thought makes your forehead strain.

A mam and her babe.

The image of the cook you so appreciated flashes into mind, holding his little girl he could not watch grow up.

He wishes to eat both.

…Will I have to slaughter them?

The prospect makes you nauseous, though you quickly push it down with a swallow of air.

No.

I am no servant, he told me.

Regardless of what I am instead, I will not butcher a mother and her unborn child.

No matter the punishment.

The sounds seem to leave the hallway, only a short moment after do they disappear from your hearing completely. Deciding it is safe enough to continue with your journey, you carefully slide the door open. Sticking your head out of the entrance to look around the hallway, nothing but empty space greets you back. With a soft sigh escaping your nose, you depart from the small, dark room. Only when looking inside before closing the door, do you see it’s just a storage room with buckets and brooms.

You continue your path towards the Lord’s chambers, not hearing anymore noises apart from your own patters. When you reach his hallway, you can feel your face wish to smile, though those words from the ominous figure repeat through your head.

“Enter.” The Lord’s deep voice speaks the moment you stand still before his door. You repeat the same process as always; sliding open, stepping through, closing and bowing.

“You did not obey.” His voice speaks, rather than his usual hum. You raise yourself regardless and find his hot eyes with yours, his posture slumped back in that chair of his, appearing as though he has not moved since you departed this morning.

“My Lord?”

“You met my guests, did you not?”

“No, my Lord.” You speak the truth, though assume he must not believe you. “I hid from them, unaware they were still here. I thought-”

“Did I tell you to think?” His deep voice interrupts your explanation. His choice of words makes is almost seem as though he was waiting for something, anything, to reprimand you for.

“…No, my Lord.”

“They did not see you?” The Lord speaks after a moment of held stares, his voice low and genuinely asking.

“No, my Lord. I am certain.” Unsure whether you should tell him, you do anyways, knowing he’ll learn in one of his many ways regardless. “I did see them, though. And heard their conversation.”

“Did you?” He chuckles deeply at your honesty. “And what did they say?”

“That you wish to eat a pregnant woman.”

“Does the notion disturb you?”

“Yes, my Lord.” You admit truthfully, though the reasoning being more selfish than you’d wish to admit. “I do not want to butcher them.”

“You will not. Though I will eat them for supper. Perhaps I will give you a taste.” His words linger in the air for a moment as you think of an appropriate response to such a troublesome prospect.

“Such a luxurious delicacy would be wasted on a peasant, my Lord.” You remember how the strange man referred to the meat, and repeat the words.

“It would be. Though you are not.”

“Than what am I?”

“Whatever I desire you to be in the moment, wench.”

So that is what I am.

His property, indeed.

An object whose purpose is to be changed at his wish.

What a sad reality…

You remember the other girl who arrived here shortly after you, a sudden rush of shame comes over your selfish thoughts.

I suppose it could always be worse.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Enter.” The Lord responds immediately, you step to the side as the door behind you opens, allowing the servants full passage. You watch as two put down the table, before the others place the trays on top, not having your gaze on the Lord anymore. Though he does not command you to return, the intensity at which his eyes burn into you tell you he is not happy, forcing you to look at him once more. He squints at you from the distance as three of them leave the room.

Uraume stands still in the entrance, only shortly removed from you.

“Drink the tea, girl.” They tell you quietly, even though you know that they are aware you have done so.

“Yes, Uraume.” After your confirmation, they exit as well, leaving you alone with the Lord once more.

The Lord raises himself to his feet, signalling for you to move towards the table as well. With his large pace, he reaches the destination much faster than you and sits down comfortably. You follow suit, your eyes watching the meat on his tray.

A delicacy.

I wonder if he wishes to taste me as well…

“You will eat your supper, unlike yesterday.”

“Yes, my Lord.” You look down at your own food while speaking the obedient words. The sounds of him beginning to dine make you follow suit. The flavours are just as pleasant as this morning, clearly having been salted more than two days prior. You save the broth for last, like always, before washing it down with the tea Uraume made for you.

I wonder what it is for…

Even after raking your mind about it for a while, you still have no clue. Asking the Lord proved fruitless this morning, so perhaps looking for Uraume tomorrow to ask them will provide you with more answers.

The sound of your cup being put down onto the tray rings in unison with the Lord’s chopsticks being let go as well. Your eyes roll up to gaze upon him, his arms cross before his chest as he looks back at you, eyes squinted.

“Is something the matter, my Lord?” You ask with a soft voice, hoping it is not the case. He takes a moment to answer, his eyes dart between yours.

“You will be staying.”

“…My Lord?” You sound confused, unsure what it is he means.

To stay in the palace? I already knew that.

I have nowhere else to go, anyways.

Or does he mean…

“You will not be leaving.” He tells you as commanding as before.

“Do you mean your chambers, my Lord?” A smirk begins to paint his face at your realisation.

“What else?”

A swallow of air is pushed down your throat at the notion, a furrow twitches at your brow. A pleasant surprise builds up within you, accompanied by that usual excitement when it comes to him.

“You said what I am depends on your wishes, my Lord,” Your voice begins to speak, you attempt to steady it, though your pounding heart makes it a little difficult. “What do you desire me to be now?”

His red eyes dart over the features of your face, before glancing down at your sitting body. Slowly, they roll up from your chest back to your eyes, that smirk still pulling at his lips.

“A bold question, girl.” He tantalises with a deep voice, clearly amused by your daring ask.

“So I am ‘girl’, then.” You engage with his playful tone, responding with your own teasing voice. It earns you a deep chuckle from the Lord.

“Settle down, girl. The night will be long.” He raises himself up to a stand, you follow his movements carefully with your eyes.

“I do not doubt it, my Lord.”

“Go do what you wish, as long as you stay here.” He speaks rather disinterested as he walks back towards his chair, retrieving his kiseru as soon as he nears it.

Do what I wish?

In his chambers?

Your eyes begin to glance around the room, head turning as required. Though you wish to snoop through every item in the space, hoping to learn more about the Lord, it would be disrespectful to do so.

He is testing me…

You realise as you look at the smouldering fire place, while the sound of the kiseru’s contents being lit crackled behind you as those hot eyes burn into the back of your skull. Your mouth contorts into a small smile, you know exactly what it is he wants you to do. What it is you need to do, in order to appease him.

You rise onto your feet, before turning to face the man. With a steady pace, you walk towards him, his crimson gaze following your movements carefully as he blows out some smoke.

You reach a short distance from the Lord, before smoothly stepping towards the edge of the bed and sitting down gracefully, right in front of him. His mouth twitches as your eyes plant themselves back onto his.

“What do you want?”

“I wish to converse with you, my Lord.”

“I have no interest in entertaining you, girl.”

“Then I will enjoy the quiet of the evening in your presence.”

A scoff escapes the man in response, a small shake of his head averts his gaze from yours, instead looking off to the side. Your eyes remain stuck on his face, however, roaming over all of his handsome, defined features with pleasance. He takes another puff, keeping his head turned to the side to keep his eyes away from you. As the smoke escapes through his nose, you can see the lower one closest to you roll back to observe you, pulling your smile tighter.

His head rolls back straight, he looks you up and down for a moment, before nudging towards the nightstand beside the bed you’re sitting on.

“Grab me that book.” His deep voice breaks the peaceful silence between you.

“Yes, my Lord.” You nod, reaching your arm towards the table beside you. It proves to be much further away than you had calculated, forcing your whole body to lean towards it, nearly laying you flat on your side. You can feel his warm eyes observe your stubbornness to not stand. When your fingers finally reach the leather casing, you grab it eagerly and pull yourself straight. Your gaze finds the Lord, and with a soft smile you hand him the object with both hands.

After observing your still body for a moment longer, one of his arms reaches to take the book from you. He pulls his eyes away from you while opening the object, before beginning to read without speaking another word. You observe closely as they begin to dart over the paper from left to right. Port to starboard. Every now and then, he takes another puff, before releasing the smoke from either his mouth or nose, or both. The silence lingering between you is pleasant, the warmth of his body seems to increase over time, caressing your front kindly.

Though the more time passes, the more tired you grow. You keep your posture somewhat decent, though notice yourself slump more and more.

Your eyes continue to caress him eagerly, every so often they pull away for a change of scenery. When they find him again, you can barely make out the lower set rush back to the paper, almost as if they were sneaking a peak at your not-looking self.

“Where am I to sleep, my Lord?” You ask with a voice clearly growing tired, as you suppress the third yawn in a short period of time.

“Where do you think?” His response shoots at your heart, you can hardly believe he will allow you to sleep beside him, in his very own berth.

“May I rest?”

“Do as you wish, I told you.” He responds to your fatigued voice, never moving his eyes off of the paper.

“Yes, my Lord.”

You slide your body off of the soft mattress, and begin to make your way to the other side of the Lord’s bed with a rather slow pace.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The familiar sound shocks through your body with surprise, not having expected more visitors.

“Enter.” The Lord responds with disinterest. The door opens, before two servants rush into the room. They make their way towards the table, and smoothly pick it up.

This must happen every time after eating.

You come to realise, as they rush back out of the room with that same learned speed and control. It amazes you how well behaved they are, considering the heavy load of rumours drowning the palace walls. You glance at the Lord as the door closes, curious to ask him about his knowledge of the things the servants speak of, though you assume it to be better to not disturb him anymore.

As you stand beside the unused side of the mattress, your hands find the lacing at your bust. Undoing it as quickly as you always do, your eyes observe the Lord closely, waiting for his gaze to roll up to your actions. It never does, not while undoing the laces, nor while you pull the dress over your head. Not even when you drop the garment on the floor and move to take off your socks, leaving you completely bare apart from your thin undergarment.

A soft sigh leaves through your nose, though you doubt he heard it. Looking at the bed before you, your hands move over the soft fabric carefully, before grabbing the edge of the duvet and pulling it apart.

You lower your body onto the mattress and pull the heavy blanket over you. Your body sinks into the soft mattress pleasantly, both the rich fabric beneath and above you hug your being pleasantly. As your head drops carefully onto the pillow, it feels as though a cloud embraces your noggin with love.

A pleased exhale escapes you as your eyes close to enjoy the sensations further.

What a luxury.

Your thoughts ring truthful, you pull the blanket a little higher to encase you nearly completely, only your face remains exposed to the outside world. The rest of you is blanketed in this world of plush and comfort.

What a dream.

It takes you but a few moments before slumber steals you away from reality, your mind not even bothered by the presence of the Lord so near you.

The man who so confuses you. Who scares you, though only a little. Who your heart desires, nearly desperately so.

Though your mind is far in the abyss, no dream of note keeping you busy, your ears perk up at a shuffling noise beside you. Slowly, your consciousness moves back to the surface, while your being remains asleep. You can feel your physical self roll a bit with the motions of the moving mattress, before a pleasant heat nears you further.

It creeps closer, increases in hotness, before a burning surface places itself on one of your breasts. The massaging motion it commences is familiar to you, you can feel a smile form at the memories of the Lord.

…The Lord?

The thought rings out in your unaware state. The hand begins to move down over your clothed body. It travels across your stomach first, the plush skin beneath the fabric dipping slightly at the heavy weight. The closer it gets to your intimate area, the more your body begins to tingle with pleasure. The heat emitting from the palm encourages your own body to burn up as well, a wetness accompanies the rising temperature between your thighs.

When the hand moves over your thighs, the large fingers begin to creep under the hem of your underdress, before moving upwards again. When one of the thick digits places itself against the slit between your legs, a shock rushes through your whole body, awakening you further.

Your eyes carefully open, nothing but darkness greets you back. It takes a moment until your vision gets used it, and when it does, you can see the Lord’s ceiling stare back at you. Your head turns towards the source of the heat beside you, letting you observe the Lord resting on your right.

Your tired gaze meets his burning red one, you can feel the fire within his eyes caress yours. Speak to yours. In that language neither of you truly understand.

“My Lord…” The whisper leaves you softly, his finger pushes firmly against you in response, a twitch at his lip accompanying it.

“Turn around.” His deep voice commands you, want dripping from the syllables.

“…Yes, my Lord.” Though your voice may seem apprehensive, it’s utter excitement that makes your speech slow as to not lose your composure too obviously. Immediately, your mind has awoken fully, adrenaline rushing through you accompanies that rising pulse and heat right where his finger is placed.

You obey his command, turning your body to lay on your other side so your back faces the Lord. His hand removes itself from you at the motion, the departure of his hot skin on yours has dissatisfaction replacing it.

The warm hand begins to rub one of your buttocks with a pleasant pressure, reminding you of his punishment the day prior. As you lay your head down comfortably, the massaging increases in intensity while the Lord moves his body closer to you.

“You slept so deeply that other night.” His hot breath pushes against the skin of your neck, sending a wave of pleasance through you. Your eyes close at the wonderful sensations, making you able to enjoy them better, while want for more creeps up within. “A shame none of my acts awoke you.”

“I was aware, my Lord.” You whisper in response, remembering the odd dream-state you found yourself in that night.

“You were?” A chuckle follows his surprised words. “Playing pretend, then?”

“I was asleep, though my dream felt too real to be just that.”

“Mmh…” He hums teasingly. “You dream of me often?”

“Nearly every night, my Lord.” You speak honestly, your head turning a little to the side so your face is closer to his behind you.

“How desperate of you.”

“Do you, my Lord?”

“Hm?”

“Dream of me?” Another deep chuckle escapes the man who pushes himself even closer to you, his large, hot frame now rubbing against your backside. You can feel the growing hardness press against your rump, his face moves closer to lower his mouth beside your ear.

“You truly do not know your place, do you?” His low voice rumbles against your shell, forcing you to swallow air to offset all the delight rushing through you. “Do you believe a mere peasant such as yourself could make such an impression on a lord?” You can feel one of those sharp canines graze passed your soft skin. “On a king?”

“I do not know what to believe in this haunted palace.” You turn your head towards him, forcing his face back before meeting his crimson gaze with yours.

“A haunted palace?” The warm palm moves itself lower towards your thighs, before creeping beneath the hem of your undergarment again.

“Yes, my Lord.” Your eyes begin to caress his in the darkness of the room, the shimmers of red shining brightly before you.

“What a fitting description.” The hand places itself on your hip, before giving your round feature a pleasant squeeze. “Do you wish to leave?”

“No.” You answer perhaps too quickly. “This is my home, now.” That familiar smirk of his pulls at his lips, as he leans his face closer to yours.

“Correct answer, wench.”

The grip on your hip tightens, before a sudden pressure hits against your backside. One of his large lengths forces itself into you from behind, your walls strain painfully at the girth. A gasp escapes your throat, while your widened eyes remain stuck on his. Those four red ones glint with amusement as your brows bend due to the nearly unpleasant tension you’re experiencing. It feels as though he’s growing larger with every millimetre he pushes into you, the stress inside of you almost tears your channel apart.

When the length reaches all the way, and his pelvis collides with yours, you feel as though you can breathe again. A strained exhale leaves you quickly, you need a moment to regain a regular rhythm. The Lord does not let you, instead retracting himself nearly all the way with a quick pace, before forcing his entirety back into you faster and harder than the first time. A pained moan escapes your throat at the vigour, your eyes squeeze shut at the aching pressure.

The free hand on his top side reaches for your face the moment he notices your lids obstructing your gaze from his. The thumb and index squeeze into one cheek each, forcing your mouth into a pout and your eyes to reopen.

“Don’t you dare look away, girl.” His deep voice rumbles beneath his fastening breath.

“My Lord.” You face winces with discomfort at the disturbing pain within you.

“What, you cannot manage?” He nearly mocks your incapability, yet his movements cease.

“I…” The sound barely escapes you, as the lack of motion allows you to attempt to regain your breathing once more while your insides begin to adjust themselves to him.

“Are you refusing this gift of mine?” His fingers pinch your face, before letting go of your cheeks and moving to your chin instead.

“Never, my Lord.” Your voice sounds more confident now, less strained and discontent.

“Then be a good girl, and accept it with pleasure.” His thumb begins to caress the soft skin of your chin, as he tends to enjoy doing.

“Yes, my Lord.” You can feel his words force your being to regain its composure completely, the moment of inaction on his part allowing your walls to have adjusted to his monstrous size completely. “I will.”

“Mmh.” He hums amusedly once more, slowly retracting himself. “Rather a fast change of tone.”

“I simply needed a moment to regain myself, my Lord.” You speak truthfully, the sensation of him rubbing inside of you now much more pleasurable than painful. “I apologise.”

“How pathetic of you.” After he retracts nearly all the way, he begins to push back in, just as slow. “You will not need such a moment in the future, do you understand?”

“Yes, my Lord.” His words make it clear this will not be an anomalous night, rather another addition to your ever changing routine. “I will be ready for you. Always.”

“Always? That is quite a promise.” His grin flashes that sharp canine of his while the rubbing of your chin continues in unison with his push.

“Yet one I dare to make.” Your words begin to sound more airy as his caressing of both your face and inside continue.

“How bold of you.” He chuckles deeply, clearly not minding this pledge of yours. When his pelvis pushes against yours again, he retracts, slowly picking up the pace.

“Such a sight you are.” His deep voice grows quieter as his motions continue to move faster. “Taking your Lord so obediently.”

“Yes, my Lord.” A smile pulls at your lips as he retracts from you in quick succession of his pushing, the vigour behind his movements slowly increasing.

“No.” His head shakes a little as his a twitch caresses his mouth. “Your King.”

“Yes, my King.” Your correction earns you one of those deep groans of his you are growing to love, your body flutters at the sound. The grip on your hip tightens, his fingers dig into you with bruising force, before he thrusts harder, faster. A moan escapes your throat at the pleasant force tickling your insides just right.

“Mmh.” He hums contently at your noise, strain growing in his sounds as well. “Do that again, wench.” A hard thrust into you earns him another moan, loader than the one before, though most definitely just as genuine. A chuckle sounds out in response, before being usurped by another groan of his.

“My King…” Your voice whispers in between soft yet audible moans, the grip of his hand on your hip keeping you in place tight enough to not be launched off of the soft mattress due to his vigorous thrusting inside of you.

“Not done already, are you?” He teases your wanting sounds, removing his hand from your face, before placing it on the shoulder exposed to the air of the room. “I am not nearly finished with you, girl.”

With a smooth motion, he pushes you fully onto your stomach while one of his lengths remains inside of you, his hips forcing you in place as he mounts on top of yours. A hand holds onto the empty hip, your pelvis now being held in place on both sides. The two other hands push your back down into the soft mattress, though not with too much pressure to cause an ache.

Your face is forced to lay on one cheek as to not choke on the pillow, your hands reach up to hold onto the cloudy cushion for a sense of grounding, as the pleasant weight of the Lord’s body pushes on your lower half.

He retracts himself from you with a fast pace, before plunging back into you with enough force to cause the heavy and thick wooden bedframe to creak. Sounds continue to wash out of you at his resumed force, tears of nothing but pleasure well up in your eyes at the wonderful strain within you. Though the sensation of pure extasy overwhelms your whole body, you can still feel those hot eyes of the Lord search your head to find your gaze. A groan with irritation lingering beneath it sounds out from him at his inability due to the position he has put you in.

The friction of his hardness rubbing in and out of your slick, warm flesh sends you both into an intoxicated state of unawareness. The pleasured sounds of your throats ring in song with the wet slapping of your privates. You can feel your buttocks dance with the Lord’s motions, his hot gaze now fixed onto your rolling skin. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he continues to pound into you with nothing but want. Your hands tighten their grip on the pillow, you roll your head back straight to push your forehead down into the soft surface with enough pressure to add to the overflowing sensations within you.

A tight pressure begins to build withing you rapidly, your strained moans and breathing become muted by the fabric pressed against your face. Another irritated groan releases from the Lord, the two hands on your back slide upwards over your skin as his large torso falls forwards, blanketing you entirely. One of the arms snakes beneath you, before the hand sandwiches itself between the mattress and your breast, squeezing your soft fat as soon as he holds it proper. The other limb pushes beneath your neck, forcing your head upwards a little. On instinct, you turn your face towards the side the most heat seems to be emitting from, your half-lidded and boozy eyes find his deep crimson ones nearly immediately.

“My Lord…” The words escape between your breathless moans, earning a deep groan from him in return. With how close his face is to yours, you can feel his fast, hot exhales push against your skin pleasantly. You lean in closer as his thrusts grow even faster, yet they appear to be less controlled. Your back arches in response to his bucks, offering him a better angle into you. You can feel the other hard length lay against your bare skin, encouraging your hips to roll in unison with the Lord’s rhythm to allow that monster it’s release as well, rubbing it against your plush skin ever so slightly.

“My King…” Your eyes roll upwards once more, all of the wonderful sensations becoming almost too much for you to handle, forcing that pressure within you to nearly break already.

“Look at me.” His deep voice growls but a few centimetres removed from your face, a moan of yours responds to him. You force your eyes to meet his again, though your eyebrows curl in order to offset the flooding of pressure at least somewhat. “Good girl.” His breathless praise forces more pleasured sounds from you, your hips begin to buck rather than roll in search for more of that glorious delight he is giving you.

“Lord Sukuna.” His title sounds from you with hitched breathing, his grip on your hips and breast tightens at your words. A strained groan sounds from him, before the speed of his pace increases even more. Even if you’re mind weren’t as hazed over with pleasure, you would still not be able to understand how this man is able to use such force and speed.

With a loud gasp, you can feel the knot within you break as your walls clench and pulse as tight as possible around him. Your knuckles grow white with how hard you are gripping the pillow, as the Lord continues to plunge into you with the same relentlessness, clearly unbothered by your climax.

“Ryoumen Sukuna…” You whisper with a strained exhale, a loud groan of his responds as all of his grips on you tighten enough to leave marks. The bucking of his hips falters as his fluids begin to leave him in unison with the sounds of gratification escaping from his throat. His milk of intimacy fills up your pulsing walls with warmth, the revealed length of his pumps the same liquid all over the skin on your backside. His hot breath is forced out of the man right onto the red and flushed skin of your face, as the movements of his lower half finally begin to cease.

Your eyes remain fixed onto his, all six of them shared between you are drowning with satisfaction and desire. The urge to caress the handsome face beside you is nearly overwhelming, though you force yourself to resist.

Instead, content pushes your lips into a soft smile, as your hands grip the pillow beneath you just a little tighter, perhaps even pretending it’s the man still inserted into you that you are embracing with nothing but affection.

---

notes: hii we have now caught up with everything that's posted on AO3, so from now on there will be a new update every friday on both platforms ! thanks for reading :)

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