Chapter 3 ''Devotion'' (NSFW)
Sukuna stops fighting. No more nights spent in the concubines' wing, no more pretending his feelings for you are fleeting. When he comes to you this time, it's with purposeāto claim what's his.
WC: 3,154 āāāćā masterlist
You hadn't seen Sukuna in four days.
Not since the night he'd kissed you and left in confusion. Four days of silence. Four days of him nowhere in the palaceārumors said he was in the war room with his generals, handling some distant uprising that demanded his attention.
Danielle and Haerin didn't mention it, but you caught them exchanging worried glances.
Ningning, however, you heard about constantly. The servants whispered that she'd been summoned to his chambers three nights running. That she'd emerged with messy hair and swollen lips, looking triumphant.
You tended your garden and said nothing. But at night, alone in your bed, you wondered if he'd already forgotten you. If the kiss meant nothing. If the connection you'd felt was one-sided.
The camellia was blooming fuller now, its petals opening to the spring sun that was finallyāfinallyābeginning to warm the palace grounds. New flowers were emerging from the soil you'd prepared: plum blossoms in soft pink, early chrysanthemums, jasmine vines that climbed the walls like they were searching for something.
Hope, you supposed. They were all searching for hope.
"My lady, you should rest," Haerin said gently, noticing how you'd been out in the garden since dawn. "You've been working too hard."
"I'm fine," you assured her, though your back ached slightly and you were more tired than usual. Probably just the stress of Sukuna's distance. Your body responded to emotions in strange ways.
The sun was setting when he came.
You were in your chambers, changing into your evening robe, when you sensed him. Not heard himāSukuna moved like smoke when he wanted to. But you felt his presence the way you felt the change in air before a storm.
"Leave us," he commanded from the doorway, his voice low and rough.
Haerin and Danielle scrambled to obey, bowing so low their foreheads nearly touched the ground before they disappeared through the side entrance.
He stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the corridor light. He looked different tonight. Raw. Like something inside him had finally snapped.
"Sukuna," you greeted, keeping your voice steady despite your racing heart. "I wasn't expectingā"
"Don't," he interrupted, stepping inside and closing the door behind him with deliberate slowness. The sound of the latch clicking shut echoed through the room. "Don't pretend you didn't know I was coming."
"I didn'tā"
"You felt it." He moved toward you with that predatory grace, each step deliberate and measured. "The same way I felt you, every moment I was away from this place. Every moment I was somewhere else, with someone else, and all I could think about was you."
Your breath caught. Your stomach twisted with nerves and anticipation.
"Sukunaā"
"I'm done," he said flatly, coming to stand directly in front of you. "Done pretending. Done running. Done lying to myself about what this is."
He reached out slowly, giving you time to pull away. When you didn't, his massive hands cupped your face with surprising gentleness. His thumbs brushed your cheekbones, and you felt the calluses on his skināevidence of centuries of violence.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, and then he kissed you.
This kiss was nothing like the others. It wasn't searching or confused. It was a declaration. A claiming. A surrender and a conquest all at once.
You melted into it, rising on your toes to meet him, your hands coming up to fist in the fabric of his robes. He tasted like sandalwood and something darkerāsomething entirely him. His lips moved against yours with desperate hunger, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you, the taste of you.
When he pulled back slightly, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily.
"I've been in the war room for four days telling myself I was thinking about strategy," he murmured against your lips, and you could hear the raw honesty in his voice. "I was thinking about you. Every single moment."
you running your fingers down his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath the fabric.
"I've spent the last three nights in Ningning's bed." His voice was almost angryāat himself, you realized. "Trying to remember why I preferred her. Trying to make the confusion go away. Trying to convince myself that what I feel for you is just..." he trailed off, frustration evident in every line of his body.
You didn't say anything. Just waited, your fingers still tracing patterns on his chest.
"It didn't work," he continued, pulling back to look at you properly, and there was something almost devastated in his expression. "Nothing worked. Because she's not you. She'll never be you. Her touch doesn't make me feel like I'm drowning and flying at the same time."
"Sukunaā"
"I don't know how to do this," he said, something vulnerable breaking through his usual composure. "I don't know how to have something I care about. Everything I touch, I destroy."
"Then we'll figure it out together," you said, reaching up to touch his face. Your fingers traced one of his tattoos, following the pattern with reverent attention, and you felt him shudder slightly at the contact. "I trust you."
Something broke in his expression. "You shouldn't."
"But I do," you said firmly. "Completely."
He kissed you again, and this time it was slower, deeper. His tongue brushed against yours, and you made a small sound of pleasure that seemed to drive him wild. His hands moved from your face down your sides, leaving trails of heat in their wake.
Your robe suddenly felt too warm, too restrictive.
"I need you," he breathed against your neck, his lips finding the sensitive spot where your jaw met your throat. "God, I need you so badly it's killing me."
A shiver ran down your spine at the intensity in his voice. You'd never heard him sound like thisādesperate, almost broken.
His hands reached for the tie of your robe, and he paused, his eyes meeting yours. The question was there, unspoken but clear.
"Yes," you said before he could even ask. "Yes to everything."
He untied it slowly, like he was unwrapping something precious. The fabric fell away, and then your sleeping shift followed, leaving you bare before him in the fading sunlight.
For a long moment, he just looked at you. Really looked at you. His eyesāall four of themātraced every curve of your body with an intensity that made you feel like the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"You're perfect," he whispered, reaching out to touch you. His fingers trailed down your collarbone, across your shoulder, following the line of your ribs. Goosebumps erupted across your skin at his touch. "How are you this perfect?"
"Your curse," you teased breathlessly. "You're surrounded by beautiful women."
"They're not you," he repeated, like it was the only truth that mattered in the world. "They could never be you."
He pulled you against him, one hand splayed across your lower back, pressing you into his body, while the other tangled in your hair. He was still fully clothed, and the rough fabric of his robes against your bare skin sent electric jolts of pleasure through you.
You gasped, tilting your head back, and he took advantage of the exposed line of your throat. His lips found the sensitive skin, kissing, licking, and then gently sucking. You felt a surge of heat between your thighs at the sensation.
"Tell me if you want me to stop," he said, and you could hear how much control this was costing him. How much he was holding back, trying to be careful with you.
"Don't stop," you breathed, your fingers gripping his shoulders. "Don't ever stop."
He made a sound low in his throatāsomething between a groan and a growlāand carried you to your bed with surprising gentleness. He laid you down on the silk cushions like you were made of glass, then stepped back.
You watched, your breath coming faster, as he removed his clothes. First his outer robe, letting it fall to the floor. Then the undershirt, revealing the powerful expanse of his chest. The tattoos covered more of his skin than you'd realizedāintricate patterns that seemed to move in the candlelight.
He was a work of art. Terrifying and beautiful in equal measure.
His hands went to the tie of his pants, and he held your gaze as he untied them, letting them fall away. He was fully aroused, and the sight made your mouth go dry. He was large everywhere, intimidating, but instead of fear, you only felt desire.
"Come here," you whispered, reaching for him, and he settled over you with the care of someone handling something infinitely precious.
He kissed you againādeeper this time, slower. His hands mapped your body with reverent attention, learning every curve, every sensitive spot. When his fingers found the inside of your wrist and traced small circles there, you gasped at how erotic such a simple touch could be.
His lips moved down your neck, across your collarbone, and you felt your body responding, heat pooling low in your belly. Your skin was hypersensitive to every touch, every breath he exhaled against you.
"I'm going to mark you," he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire. "So everyone knows you're mine. So there's no question about who you belong to."
The possessiveness in his voice should have bothered you. Instead, it thrilled you. "Yes," you breathed. "Do it."
He kissed and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck, your shoulder, the curve where neck met collarbone. You knew it would leave bruisesādark marks that would be visible to everyone in the palace. The thought made you shiver with anticipation and need.
His hands moved lower, tracing the curve of your waist, the swell of your hip, and then between your thighs. You gasped at the intimacy of his touch, at how vulnerable you felt laid bare beneath him.
He was unhurried, almost reverent, learning what made you tremble and moan. His fingers found the sensitive bundle of nerves and stroked it slowly, deliberately, watching your face as pleasure rippled through you.
"That's it," he murmured. "Let me see how you respond to me. Let me know what makes you feel good."
His fingers dipped lower, and he groaned when he felt how wet you were. "All for me?" he asked, and there was such raw satisfaction in his voice.
"Only for you," you gasped, your hips moving against his hand. "Always only for you."
He kissed you again, his tongue mimicking the movements of his fingers, and the dual sensation was almost overwhelming. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging slightly into his skin, and he hissed in pleasure.
"I want to taste you," he said, pulling away. "Will you let me?"
Your breath caught. You'd neverāno one had everā
"Yes," you whispered, nodding eagerly.
He kissed his way down your body, his lips mapping every inch of your skin. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, looking up at you with an expression of reverent hunger.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered. "So perfect. I'm going to make you feel so good, sweetheart."
And then his mouth was on you, and stars exploded behind your eyes.
It was overwhelmingāthe intimacy of it, the pleasure of it. His tongue worked against you with devastating precision, finding exactly the right pressure, the right rhythm. Your hands tangled in his hair, and you couldn't help the broken moans that escaped your lips.
"Sukuna," you gasped, your body tightening as pleasure built inside you. "Sukuna, I'mā"
"I know," he murmured against you. "Let go. Come for me. I want to feel it."
One more stroke of his tongue and you shattered, pleasure crashing through you in waves. You cried out his name, your entire body convulsing with the intensity of it. He held you through it, continuing his ministrations until you were completely undone.
When he finally pulled back, his lips glistened, and he looked incredibly pleased with himself.
"I could spend hours doing that," he said, kissing his way back up your body. "Hours just tasting you, learning you, making you come for me again and again."
"Sukuna," you breathed, your whole body still trembling. "I need you. Inside me. Please."
He settled between your thighs, his hardness pressing against your entrance. He moved slowly, giving your body time to adjust to him, and it was the most exquisite torture.
"Relax," he murmured against your ear, his voice impossibly gentle given the tension you could feel coiled in his body. "I've got you. Just relax and let me in."
You took a deep breath and felt him push deeper. He was large, and there was a moment of discomfort, but then he was fully inside you, and the sensation was indescribable. Full. Complete. Right.
"Oh god," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders.
"Are you okay?" he asked, and you heard the concern in his voice. "Does it hurt?"
"No," you breathed. "It's perfect. You're perfect. Just... give me a second."
He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, while you adjusted. His hands stroked your sides soothingly, and you felt yourself relaxing into him.
"Okay," you whispered. "Move."
He started slowly, carefully, like he was afraid of hurting you. But as your body responded, moving with his, his control began to slip.
"You feel incredible," he groaned, his movements becoming deeper, more purposeful. "So tight. So perfect. You're made for me, aren't you? This is exactly where you're supposed to be."
"Yes," you gasped, meeting his thrusts. "Yes, I'm yours. Only yours."
"Damn right you are," he growled, and there was something primal in the way he said it that sent heat spiraling through you again.
He changed his angle slightly, and suddenly he was hitting something inside you that made your vision blur with pleasure. You cried out, your back arching off the bed.
"That's it," he murmured, finding that spot again and again. "Right there. I've got you."
You were close again, the pleasure building rapidly. His movements were becoming less controlled now, more desperate, and you could feel him losing himself in you.
"Come with me," he commanded, his voice rough. "Look at me and come with me."
You opened your eyes and met his gaze, and the intensity in his expression was almost too much. There was nothing held back nowāno walls, no guards. Just raw emotion and raw need.
"I love you," he breathed. "I love you so much it's destroying me."
"I love you too," you gasped, and then pleasure overtook everything.
You came hard, your body clenching around him, and he followed moments later, burying himself as deep as he could go before spilling inside you. He groaned your name like a prayer, his entire body rigid with the force of his climax.
For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just breathed. Just existed in the aftermath of what had just happened.
He rolled to the side, pulling you with him, keeping you pressed against his chest. His heart was racing beneath your ear, gradually slowing to a normal rhythm. His hands stroked your hair, your back, in soothing circles.
"I love you," he said into the darkness, the words soft but absolute. "I'm terrified of that love, but I love you completely."
The words hung there, shocking in their simplicity and their depth.
You tilted your head back to look at him. "You don't have to say that because of what just happened."
"I'm not," he said, his eyes deadly serious. "I've known for days. Maybe longer. I was just too terrified to admit it. Too afraid that you'd reject me, or that I'd hurt you, or that I'd destroy something beautiful like I destroy everything else."
You reached up, touching his face gently, tracing the line of his jaw. "I love you too. I've been waiting for you to stop running."
"How?" he asked, something almost agonized in his voice. "How can you love me? After everything I am, everything I've doneā"
"Because you're more than that," you said simply. "Because underneath all the power and violence, there's someone worth loving. Someone I choose to love, every single day."
He kissed you again, softer this time. More tender. Like he was trying to pour all his emotion into the contact.
"I'm going to ruin you," he murmured against your lips. "My life, my enemiesāthere's danger everywhere around me."
"Then I'll face it with you," you replied. "We're partners now. Not empress and emperor. Not wife and husband. Partners."
He held you through the night, and every time you shifted slightly, he pulled you closer, like he was afraid you'd disappear. You fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, feeling safer and more loved than you'd ever felt in your life.
Morning came too soon.
You woke to find him already awake, watching you sleep. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the screens, painting everything in shades of gold and amber. His arm was still around your waist, and his eyes were soft as they traced your face.
"Hi," you murmured sleepily, stretching against him. The movement brought you into contact with his aroused length, and you felt heat bloom across your cheeks.
"Hi," he replied, and there was something almost shy in his voice. Like he didn't know how to be tender in daylight. "Did I hurt you?"
"Not even a little," you assured him, running your fingers across his chest. "I'm fine. Better than fine."
He leaned down and kissed you softly, and you felt it all over againāthat flutter of butterflies, that sense of rightness.
"Everyone in the palace is going to know exactly what happened between us," he murmured, pulling back to look at you. His eyes traveled over your neck, your shoulders, and you followed his gaze to the mirror across the room.
You gasped. Your neck and shoulders were covered in marksādark bruises in the shape of his lips and teeth. There were at least a dozen visible, and you had no doubt there were more hidden beneath your shift.
"Oh my gods," you breathed.
He looked absolutely smug. "Good. Let them talk."
"Ningning will have a fit," you said, and it was meant to be joking, but there was an edge of concern beneath it.
His expression hardened immediately, all the softness vanishing. "Ningning is no longer my concern. You are. Only you. From this moment forward, there is no one else. No concubine, no past lover, no one. Just you."
There was something possessive and primal in the way he said it, something that should have bothered you but instead thrilled you to your core.
"Promise me," you whispered.
"I promise," he said, kissing your forehead. "With everything I am."
By noon, the entire palace knew.
Servants whispered about it as they passed in corridors. The other concubines eyed you with new respect and new resentment when you walked through the halls. And Ningning...
Ningning locked herself in her chambers, refusing all visitors.
But in the darkness, as she stared at nothing, her hands clenched into fists so tight her nails drew blood.
Two years. Two years of careful cultivation. Two years of perfecting herself, of learning his preferences, of being exactly what she thought he wanted.
And it had all been for nothing.
A gentle woman with dirt under her fingernails and kindness in her eyes had stolen what Ningning had thought was hers forever.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror and made a decision.
If the Empress thought her victory was secure, she was a fool.
Ningning was many things, but she was not a quitter.
And she had absolutely nothing left to lose.
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