“Nanami.”

Your surname comes as a reluctant greeting, and you have to fight back a smile. You probably don’t do a very good job, because he gives you a blistering glare.

“That was a cute speech,” his dark eyes narrow on you for a moment longer before he looks away. “Apart from your dig at my team, that is. It was a bit unnecessary, don’t you think?” Your lips part, but he barrels on. “We all work for the same company after all. There’s no need to make everything about winning.”

In your impromptu thank you speech, you expressed mild surprise at how well sales were doing, even though the company's marketing numbers were falling behind, dipping into dangerously low territory. You suggested that departments could collaborate and learn from each other, but it was clear which one you believed needed more attention.

“Of course,” you say, placing your hand on his arm. You see his eyes flick down to it, then back up again. “I apologise if it came across that way. It wasn’t my intention at all.”

He lifts an ashy brow, looking unimpressed, but he expected a snarky reply or barking laughter. The apology seems to catch him off guard.

“Uh-huh,” he responds, a hint of doubt in his voice.

Then, the remorse in your eyes hardens into something a lot more brittle, and it makes his hackles rise. Still touching his arm, you feign sympathy.

“I mean, you need real competition to win something, so pitting my team against yours just wouldn’t be fair.”

Nanami’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and when he opens his mouth, you take it as your cue to stand.

“I have to go, but please have some more cake? Who knows how long we’ll have to wait until we have something like this for marketing?”

A whispered curse follows you as you leave the room and you nearly cackle out loud. You weren’t usually that snippy, but the blonde-haired man always brought out the worst in you. 

You had only joined Kaito Corp—the global conglomerate dealing with all things retail, from food, clothing, and cosmetics—two years ago.

The extensive healthcare benefits, paired with the pay, had you barely skipping a beat when you handed in your resignation at your previous job. And it didn’t hurt that everyone was so welcoming when you arrived either—well, everyone except the six-foot shadow that was propped in the dark corner of the room, watching you with something bordering on indifference.

It took Nanami all of five seconds to decide he didn’t like you. His curt responses to you, contrasted with his quiet, gentlemanly politeness towards everyone else, and it made you dislike him too. So, for the last 24 months, the two of you snarled and clawed at each other like a pair of housecats. Passive aggression hung like a thick halo of smog whenever you interacted, and seeing how uncomfortable it made the rest of the office, you tried to steer clear of him.

But of course, it never worked.

It’s hard to believe there isn’t some higher—or lower—power out to get you. One who forces the two of you together like a pair of helpless magnets and watches the heated exchanges with rapt attention for their own enjoyment. And as you step into your office and get back to work, the email that pops up after a few minutes has you convinced that the sadist fuck of a deity is having a good laugh.

Good day,  I hope this email finds you well.  I have noticed that one of our London branches requires some attention. Fortunately, there is a networking conference scheduled for next week, and I would like to extend an invitation for you to attend. The conference will expose you to more companies that may be interested in partnering up with us and equip you with the necessary areas of interest for improvement in localisation.   I apologise for writing to you on such short notice, but I am afraid your attendance is mandatory. Kindly adjust your availability as flights are scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. Please find more details on accommodation and travel with my assistant, Miss C Hani. I look forward to your cooperation.  Best,  Jun Kaito.

The founder of the company emailing you directly is one thing, but the only other recipient that’s addressed is what makes the blood in your veins run cold: 

[email protected]

Why was he copied? Surely you weren’t expected to attend the conference with him, right? 

Wrong. 

If you thought you disliked him before, the man was properly situated in hate territory now.

On your way to the airport, there was a car accident that made you late for your flight, and he tore you a new one for the entire hour he sat prettily at departures, stressing you out further. You were forced to board a later flight, and that was the only moment of respite you got from his constant grumbling, but being stuck in the rental car together fires him up all over again.

“You know we probably lost our reservation at the hotel, right?”

“Would you give it a rest?” Your voice is a lot higher than it should be, and you don’t like that it makes him go quiet. As if he wanted a reaction out of you, and he finally got one. “I couldn’t exactly flip the totalled cars over to get through.”

The soft jazz filtering through the radio is at odds with the tension buzzing around the rest of the car, so potent it makes the windows rattle a little.

“You could have left earlier.”

“I left my house two hours early!”

“Everyone knows you're supposed to arrive at the airport two hours early.” 

Your fall quiet at that and at his sidelong look, you bristle. “That’s not a thing.”

“Definitely a thing.” He quips coolly, right in the middle of your sentence.

“If it bothered you so much then why didn’t you go ahead without me?”

The question falls on deaf ears as Nanami pretends he didn’t hear you, and today, you hate that you work together a little more than others. As a myriad of profanities would have slipped out a while ago if you weren’t convinced he’d report you to HR faster than you could blink.

You drive in silence to the hotel. The trip lasts only 20 minutes, but it feels like hours as you seethe in the passenger seat.

Upon arrival, he gives the valet the car keys, grabs his bag from the trunk, and heads to reception.

You scoff, and the valet comes to open your door, a younger man wearing a beanie and an all too wide smile when you thank him. Perspiration beads over your hairline from the effort it takes to heave your suitcase out of the trunk. 

You definitely overpacked.

You’re half rolling, half lobbing the bag through the lobby, when you see Nanami’s back as he stands near the front desk, so you head over.

The receptionist behind it is an older woman with salt and pepper hair pulled back in a tight bun and round glasses that frame the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Hello.” It doesn’t feel right to have an elder to call you ma’am as she greets you back, but you smile, nonetheless.

The woman, Marianne her name tag says, darts her eyes between you and the waste of energy at your side and from your peripheral, you see him tip his head heavenward and pinch the bridge of his nose. “Hotel’s fully booked for the rest of the week.”

Your eyes widen, and you look back at Marianne for confirmation. Sadly, it seems like he’s telling the truth.

“I’m afraid so, ma’am. It’s wedding season, so it’s a little packed.”

You pinch your eyes shut, and a furrow forms between your brows when Nanami’s annoying baritone tries to rub salt into the wound.

“If we got here on time—”

“Well, we didn’t.”

A throat clears, and you didn’t even realise the two of you were glowering at each other until you both turned back to the older woman. She types away on her laptop, then a megawatt smile pulls at her lips, beautifully aged wrinkles rippling.

“Ah, the presidential suite should be available in an hour or so. If you and your husband don’t mind waiting—”

“I’m not her husband.”

“Ugh.”

Nanami pauses, head slowly swivelling toward you. While his reply was monotonous, you sound damn near disgusted at the prospect, and your face pulls like you just swallowed a lemon whole.

Just as well. He thinks. He can’t stand being your coworker, so husband is out of the question. 

Marianne blanches as she realises her mistake, “Oh, my apologies. Just the way you argue, I would have thought—” she shakes her head. “Never mind that. Will the suite work?”

“Please tell me there isn’t only one bed.”

“You wish.” Nanami can’t help but whisper under his breath. He isn’t your biggest fan either, but did you have to sound that repulsed?

You yank your suitcase to your side, and its wheel rolls over his foot. No doubt crushing his toe under the heavy weight, if the pain-filled grunt that follows is anything to go by. It’s by far the best sound you’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.

“No, there are two rooms,” Marianne continues, far too wisened to pay attention to your childish antics longer than necessary. “But they’re adjoining.”

“The doors have locks, right?”

“You’re hilarious,” Nanami supplies dryly and fishes the business credit card out his pocket. “We’ll take it.”

The speedpoint chimes as he pays, and you can’t help but sigh. This was going to be one hell of a week. 

And hell, it was. 

Between the tedious meetings and constant networking, you’d be weary and practically dragging your feet when you make it back to the hotel room.  

On the third day, you fell onto the couch with a groan that would have made people think you were being murdered if they weren’t looking. So tired that you didn’t even blink when Nanami slumped down beside you, and for the first time in the years you’ve known him, also seeming put out as he threw an arm over his face to shield his eyes. 

You sit so close that your knees touch, but your body is too heavy to kick him away or snap at him to keep his distance, so you let your eyes fall shut. 

It pains you to remember that the two of you fell asleep on the couch that night.

Together.

Somehow going from sitting side by side to him being sprawled along the length of it, and you using him as a makeshift mattress as you lie atop him. A thick arm was loosely looped around your waist when you woke up, and even though it was the best sleep you’ve ever gotten, the embarrassment of it all didn’t stop you from sliding out of his hold as if you were lathered in gallons of butter. 

You’re 90% sure he was awake as you all but army crawled to your room, but neither of you brought it up in the following days. You thought that would be the end of it, but you only started tiptoeing around each other more as a new kind of tension settled between you. Not replacing what used to be there entirely, but just making it more charged.

You’d never admit it, but you died a little every time Nanami came out of the shower with the thin white towel wrapped around his hips and trickles of water dripping down plains of muscle his suits never showed. Your ogling lasts until you go to shower right after, only to curse him for finishing all the hot water. 

He’s the most inconsiderate person you've ever known, and no amount of sex appeal could change that. 

You wonder why he doesn’t change in the bathroom as you did. It's as if he relishes those twenty seconds of strutting from one room to the next like something out of a fitness magazine. When you tell him as much and accuse him of being unprofessional, he merely raises an eyebrow

“You don't hear me complaining about the short nightgowns you insist on wearing.” 

What? 

“There’s no way you’re trying to compare my pyjamas to you walking around half-naked.”

You scoff with your arms crossing over your chest, and it’s like the action draws his attention there. Clad in one of those gowns as you speak, Nanami leans down until he’s so close the scent of his body wash and shampoo wraps you in an intoxicating whirlwind.

“I caught a flash of your panties when you bent over earlier. I’d say it’s just as bad if not worse.”

You gasp, hand meeting his face, but it’s not a slap, not really. Your palm just smashes over its entirety, and you hear his sharp inhale before you push his head away with all your might (he barely moves).

“You’re a fucking pervert!”

With your cheeks burning, you don’t even give him time to reply, and you could be wrong, but instead of being angry like you intended, you almost think you hear a soft chuckle.

You’d kill him by the end of the trip. You were sure of it.

The next day at the conference, all you can focus on is how incredibly slow the week is going, and thinking it shows on your face, you force a smile when a group of execs walk over.

Judging by the gold bands on their ring fingers, all of them are married, but they definitely don’t act like it. Lecherous eyes look you over as if sizing up prey, and you shuffle from one foot to the other. One of the men keeps your hand in his a little too long after a handshake, and his dry lips pull into a sleazy grin, skin cracking a little from the effort, so he darts his tongue out. 

Your many years of experience are the only reason you don’t outwardly grimace when he says your name in a coaxing purr. 

“You’re absolutely ravishing. It's no wonder you were chosen to join us this week.” 

Right, because it had to be beauty and not all the hard work you put in that could land you in a room like this.

“Thank you?” Your eyes widen when he raises your hand to his lips as if he were about to kiss the back of it, until warmth feathers over the curve of your back, and you feel Nanami long before you hear him.

“Mr Samson.” The man comes up short when his name is called, and the sight of his shiny bald head and the wispy pieces of hair he laid in a forced comb-over disappears as he straightens. You take the opportunity to pull your hand out of his, and his eyes look over your head, then up, up, until he meets those of your blonde tormentor standing behind you.

“Mr Nanami.” Samson greets with that overly friendly expression on his face, nowhere in sight. 

“Gentlemen.” A hand lands on the small of your back, and he steps to your side, nodding at the rest of the pack. “I hope you don’t mind if I steal her away for a moment?”

He phrases that as a question, but doesn’t really give them time to answer when he steers you away from them. You can’t help but feel a rush of relief when he walks you to the door, and while it takes everything in you to swallow your pride, you whisper your thanks under your breath. 

It may have been too soft for him to hear because he doesn’t even spare you a glance as he closes the car door behind you. 

Once again, the drive back to the hotel was quiet, and unlike the awkwardly stiff silence that filled the car every other day, this time it wasn’t that bad.

You know you shouldn’t be this happy to have left early, and some people may mistake that for arrogance on the company’s part, but it is nice to have an early night for once.

You’d do damage control tomorrow. 

It would be the last day of mingling before the two of you went back home, and you won’t need to engage with him more than you were already forced to. You think it’s a good thing, but your spurring belly doesn’t seem to agree with you. 

When the car stops at the hotel’s entrance, you step out, and you only make it one step before you hear a loud “thwack!”. Your ankle rolls a little, and you stumble forward.

Looking down at your heel, you nearly weep at the sight of the broken stem, dangling precariously even when you lift your foot. You'd never feel comfortable telling anyone how much you spent on them, and now they were broken. Why do these things always happen to you?

“What’s wrong?” Kento asks as he comes to your side of the car. He follows your gaze as you look at your stiletto, and you place a hand against the hood, bending to take it off. “You can't walk around barefoot. You don't know what's on these floors.”

He says almost accusingly. As if you broke your shoe on purpose. 

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” 

You snipe at him and before your foot can touch the ground, a squeal pipes out when you’re lifted up.

A strong arm circles your back, and the other hooks around the underside of your knees. It happens so quickly, you almost feel like you’ve been sent flying. Trapped in a princess carry within a matter of seconds as has you spluttering in shock. “Have you lost your mind?!”

An arm momentarily leaves you, and you wind yours around his neck so you don’t fall on your ass. There’s a jingle as he hands the car keys over to the valet, and realising that someone else witnessed you being dragged like a sack of potatoes makes you squirm in his hold.

“Put me down.” You force through gritted teeth, and he walks into the lobby.

“In a minute.” He murmurs, not fazed in the slightest as his leather shoes clack over mosaic tiles.

“Now!”

“No.”

The sheer audacity of this man was almost impressive sometimes.

You find a little comfort in the fact that it’s so late no one other than the staff is in the lobby. But you catch sight of Marianne’s silvery hair and her simper as she watches the two of you recant the though. Her smile, paired with the feeling of Nanami’s hulking chest heating the side of your body, is enough to make you grip his shoulders, nails digging in warning.  

“You’re making a scene.”

“You’re the one yelling.” 

Because he was making a scene!

“I swear to god, Kento, if you don’t let me down right now I’m gonna bite you.”

And the idiot has the nerve to smirk in response to the threat. For someone who didn’t want you walking around barefoot, he didn’t seem to care that a human bite could pack so much bacteria the infection would take him out in days. 

“Don’t smile at that. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m just surprised we’re on a first-name basis now.”

Your arms tighten around him again when his grip snags to press the elevator’s button. The doors open immediately, and he secures you against him once more and steps inside.

The elevator goes up a level, and your eyes impatiently flicker over his face when he still doesn’t let you down. You take in the sharp slope of his nose and his usually frowning mouth that has an imperceptible smile on it now. His glasses glint under the harsh lighting in the lift, the golden glare trying and failing to match his glossy hair.

“You’re staring.”

You stiffen in his arms, when brown eyes track over to you, you look away.

“As if.”

His chest rumbles against you as he laughs, and you hate yourself for melting a little at the sound.

The elevator dings open, and you give up on wiggling free when he swipes the key card at the door and steps inside the suite. The door is kicked closed behind him and he ambles to the couch. Your arms slide off Nanami’s shoulders when he sets you down with surprising gentleness, and just as you start to gather your bearings, he kneels in front of you.

“What are you doing?” You’re tempted to kick him.

But the man only takes hold of your leg with one hand and slips your shoe off with the other.

“You’re hurt.”

You look down at your foot. You numbed yourself to the ache in your feet around the fourth hour of being in heels, so the little pinch of pain that followed when one of the shoes broke didn’t even register.

Redness blooms near your ankle, so light that you need to squint to see it. 

“I’m fine,” you bare your teeth against the brush of his thumb over your instep. Nanami stands up, and a forceful exhalation passes through your lips. 

Finally.

He takes a seat next to you.

Nope, spoke too soon. 

“Let me see.”

“Huh?” Your head rears, and not wanting to repeat himself, he leans down, and a yodel sounds from you when he snatches your foot into the air.

Your hand pushes your pencil skirt further between your thighs when your legs open a little too wide for comfort, and not having a choice, you rotate your body and lean against the arm of the couch. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” A thumb presses the bruise on your foot. “Ow!”

“Shush.” The other stiletto is taken off too, and he adjusts your feet so they’re on his lap. “Tomorrow’s the last day of the conference, I can’t have you sabotage it by hobbling all over the place.”

And there it was. He wasn’t doing this to be nice. He was just worried about how you would look next to him. Vanity, you could handle. Your lips gape to tell him off, but his fingers work into a soft curve that has you faltering.

“Just sit still for a moment.”

That shouldn’t be much of a problem, seeing you’re frozen in place.

Calloused hands feel feather-light as they knead and stroke over your irritated skin. Languid but completely focused as he massages you so skilfully, the numbness fades in seconds. His knuckle skims along your sole, and your foot wiggles, a small giggle bubbling from the unintended tickle. Kento’s eyes lift to yours, a glint of amusement in them as he tickles you again, and your laughter turns into an annoyed grunt.

“Stop that.”

He listens. Partly. Because while he does let go of your foot, his fingers go up to trace over your ankle, and you’re still restless. The little quiver that rocks through you doesn’t go unnoticed.

Hazelnut eyes harden behind square glasses as he takes stock of you from head to toe, and when they find yours again, their shell cracks open to reveal a buttery chocolate centre that almost has you licking your lips.

Nanami’s hand pauses over your skin, and your disappointment must be written all over your face because he tilts his head at you. 

“You still want me to stop?”

You don’t. He knows that, but he still doesn’t move. And he won’t until you say it. 

“No.” You whisper under your breath, and you get a cocked eyebrow, wordlessly urging you to continue.

“No, what?”

Ugh, why was he being so difficult? He knew exactly what you meant. 

Every morsel of arousal you feel gets gobbled up by an unknown force, and you pull your legs away from him.

Fuck this. You’d sooner somersault off the rooftop than beg a man.

“Forget it.”

You stand up and only get half a step in before you’re yanked into his lap. He takes his glasses off, and the wavering breath you take is stolen when he slants his lips over yours. The kiss is demanding, almost punishing, that you weren’t bold enough to voice what you wanted.

He’ll have to remedy that.

“Don’t stop.”

Nanami grins up at you. The man was nothing if not tenacious. 

“Oh my god,” you hiccup, legs on either side of his hips as you straddle him on the couch. Your skirt is bunched up to your hips, panties pulled over to the side as lithe fingers thrust in and out of you.

Nanami leans forward and presses a kiss to your chin, a gentle peck that’s nothing like the mean plunge of his fingers into your cunt that has you fluttering pathetically around them. You were getting close again. The third time in a row as he brought you to the brink, and instead of letting you free-fall into unimaginable pleasure, he does something worse. He wrenches you back with all his might.

“Don’t.” You warn when you feel his fingers slow.

“You know the words I want to hear, sweetheart.” He says the petname like it’s an insult and damn you for squeezing around veiny digits harder. “Tell me you like it.”

Your eyes roll back when he hooks his fingers and pushes deeper.

“Tell me you like my fingers stretching you open for me.”

Your head shakes, and you aren’t even shocked when his fingers slide out of you. But the stinging pain of his palm smacking over your twitching clit? That knocks the air out of you and forces it out in nothing more than a soundless gasp.

“Fuck you,” you simmer once you’ve caught your breath, chest heaving painfully.

He only laughs in that rich whiskey quality that implores you to overindulge and drink him whole.

“Keep being a brat, and you won’t get to.” 

The heel of his hand covers your clit, nastily rubbing down and smearing glittering sticky wetness everywhere. 

“Maybe I don’t want to.” 

Teeth nip at your lips, just shy from drawing blood before he stops himself.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

You’re shaking when he wraps an arm around you, vision flashing to white when he hikes you against him, drawing you to grind over his belt buckle as he carries you to the room. The soft bed resembles a fluffy cloud when he sets you on it and your body wars between feathery weightlessness and sluggishness as you sink into it. A pleasurable buzz looms over you when you draw yourself up to your elbows and find him taking his clothes off. His eyes zero in on the centre of your thighs, and he loosens his tie. 

There’s a little tremor in the action, hands momentarily faltering when you pull yourself to sit on your knees and help him. You feel the heat of his stare, then he’s undressing you too and there’s a quiet rasp of fabric ripping as his hands grow hurried. Then with a blink of the eye, all clothes are discarded in a messy bundle on the floor, and you’re both bare.

Nanami tries to lay you back onto the mattress, but unfortunately for him, you hold grudges like a drowning person to a lifeline. You would let yourself sink under the surface, and even as water garbled in your lungs and weighed you down a fraction of what it did to him, you refused to let him leave unscathed.

So when you twist your bodies and his back hits the mattress first, the wide-eyed look he gives you makes delighted goosebumps prick over your skin. You crawl up his body to straddle him, and his hands find your waist when you roll your slit along his cock. 

Nanami’s hips twitch up, only to groan when you lift yourself out of reach, withholding the friction he so desperately needs. He blinks up at you, eyes bleary and wild as the cogs turn in his head. Then the gears click into place.

“Ah, this is payback, is it?” His laugh has you grinding harder over his girth, and it turns into a hiss. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your reply, with your voice sickeningly sweet and hunger, makes his eyes glaze over. 

You finally allow yourself to look down at his cock, taking in the reddened flush of the length and the creamy drops of precum welling at his tip. As if drawn in by an irresistible force, you circle a hand around it, and the touch elicits something between a moan and a gasp from him. 

The sound is so soft, so ruined, it doesn’t even sound like him anymore. 

Your hand bops up and down over the heavy girth, and only after drawing out a moan do you line him up with your hole. But you don’t slide him inside just yet.

All the muscles in Nanami’s body bulge, then ripple as he struggles to stay still under you, and you casually glide the mushroom tip up and down your slit. 

“Feel good?”

Only a noncommittal hum escapes, and he folds his lip between his teeth, captivated as he watches you slide the crown of his head between puffy folds then pull it out again. 

Holy fuck. 

“Say it.”

Sandy brows furrow. He’s just as stubborn as you were, if not more. That’s why the two of you clashed like two bulls in an all too small enclosure. But with how sadistic you were at times, he fears you may actually leave him like this. Nanami stammers, and when you let an inch of his cock glide into you, he blurts the words out in a barely coherent blabber.

“Feels good, baby. Too good. You know it does—” and that’s all you needed. 

You bear down on him, and his words break off. Twin moans fill the lavish room as you sink further, and his cock bullies itself into you like it’s trying to make more room. Slippery walls flutter around it when you take him to the hilt, clit rolling into the fine dusting of hair at his base. Your head tips back when he meets you halfway with a shaky thrust of his hips upwards. 

The denied orgasms have you a little delirious as you bounce on him like your life depends on it, pausing when he nudges a spot that has you seeing white, only to slam down harder. 

The last spindles of Nanami’s patience unravel like a thread's frayed edge, and his hands seal around you, crushing you to his chest as his hips snap up to meet your thighs in loud slaps. 

“Ken,” His name is a fervent curse on your lips. A beseeching prayer that echoes through the room and seeks atonement as his balls draw up. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” 

It’s like his words bodily thrust you over first and leave you crying out with your release. Nanami buries his face in your hair when your cunt pulses hard around him, greedily trying to milk him of every drop he has. And you know you’ve won when heat spurs low in your belly as he empties himself into you with praises whispered into the soft tresses of your hair. 

You fall limp on top of him, and he holds you until both your bodies stop shaking. 

You pull back first, stomach churning, and while you’re not sure what emotions you were expecting to see on his face, the dopey-eyed look as he sports certainly isn’t one of them. 

A warm hand settles over your cheek as his eyes search yours.

“You good?”

Heart thumping hard in your chest, you only manage to give him a small nod. So, he cards a hand into your hair and settles you back against his broad chest. Eyes fluttering as they welcome the sort of deep sleep that only seems to blanket you when you’re with him. 

And soon enough, the lascivious haze of sex dissipates to leave a sliver of anxiety in its place. 

The two of you were an HR nightmare just waiting to happen. And the manager of that department, being the hell-bent bloodhound he was, would sniff out the scent of sex and deceit on your skin in a matter of seconds when you returned.

You’ll definitely have to steer clear of him until you improve your poker face by a couple of thousand notches. 

But the office building was relatively big, so surely, Hiromi couldn’t be that difficult to avoid.

…right?

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Contrary to popular belief, all of them came to him willingly, and they all knew that they were allowed to leave anytime they wanted. Some women came from impoverished kingdoms, where monarchs took most of their subjects’ money and prettily dressed up their corruption as ‘tax’. These women figured living in a palace with an abundance of food and clothing was better than a rickety shack that threatened to blow away with every thunderstorm. Others came from foreign lands, drawn in by whispers of an emperor in the east, who spoiled his women rotten with all his riches. A good handful even were royal and noblewomen who fled their kingdoms to escape forced marriages with men who were often four times their age. 

Harem standing at a whopping five hundred and fifty-five women, Sukuna was self-aware enough to know that some wouldn’t be interested in him. While all came willingly, some seemed perfectly content with enjoying all the luxuries being his concubine offered without ever having to be in the same room as him. This hardly offended the emperor because, truth be told, he had favourites too, and it didn’t matter how much stamina he had, trying to get through five hundred women would’ve sent him to an early grave with his cheeks sunken in from exhaustion. 

The only rule he had was that he expected all the concubines to be loyal. The irony of that rule wasn’t lost on him, but he was a possessive fucker, and he knew he would kill whoever touched what was his in the blink of an eye.

Or so he thought he would.

Fending off too many mosquitoes to count, Sukuna decided to take a late-night walk to clear his head. His physician told him it would help him clear his mind and relax, but after missing the pesky insects one too many times and smacking himself all over, he decides this isn’t for him. 

When he finds himself stalking through the Rose Palace, he slows down to stare at the pristine white building with intricate red accents all over. This palace housed the lower-ranking concubines, some of whom he had only met once, if at all, and he realised it had been a while since his last visit. Knocking himself out of his daze with a shake of his head, Sukuna turns to walk back the way he came. Relaxation be damned, he couldn’t afford to deal with more of these mosquitoes and get lost too.  

But his sharp ears pick up on a sound that has him freezing in his tracks. It is so late that the courts are empty and all the women are fast asleep in all their quarters. So, hearing a fervent curse whispered into the night, low and pleasure-filled, followed by the moan of a name, is shocking. Head tilting, Sukuna’s legs have him turning towards the sound instead of leaving, doubling back to a room just at the end of the row. The window is open, and through the slip between the curtains, he sees it.

The indisputable entanglement of two women pressed together in a messy web of soft legs and wandering hands. Their chests are plastered together so tightly that not even the thinnest sheet of paper could hope to wedge in between them. One woman is completely naked, and while she looks like a dreamy vision as moonlight falls over her skin and marks a white outline around her silhouette, Sukuna’s scarlet gaze shoots to the other woman instead. You. 

Clad in a silky nightgown, your hair falls over your shoulders, curls and waves kissing along your collarbone almost as feverishly as the woman on your lap pecks at every sliver of skin she can get to. You have an arm looped around the woman’s slim waist, keeping her on your lap, and you watch her through low-lidded lashes while she grinds down on your fingers. She whispers a name, presumably yours, and Sukuna would have found it pretty if the sight before him didn’t fill him with unimaginable rage.

It seems he has just found the vermin that has been running amok. 

The woman moans unintelligibly, and you capture her lips in a heated kiss before pulling back to whisper, “You can say it, Emika. No one’s gonna hear you.”

Oh, he begs to differ.

“Yours.” The woman, Emika, whimpers with her mouth gaping and hips picking up to buck into your hand faster.

“Hmm?”

“I—I’m yours.” 

Emika’s words are uttered with her right on the precipice of an orgasm, and a better man would have left a long time ago, but unfortunately for her, that wasn’t Sukuna. So, with two long strides, he’s at the door, and a burly arm shoots up to land a heavy blow against the flimsy block of wood. There’s a shrill scream when the door swings open, and it bangs against the wall in a loud crackle, just shy of falling right off its hinges.

Sukuna steps over the threshold, and he watches as the brunette woman’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. She grabs a nearby blanket off the bed, wrapping it around her body with trembling hands before coming to kneel at his feet.

Or at least Sukuna thinks that’s what she does, because since he walked into the room, his blood-slick eyes haven’t left yours. You’re still sitting prettily on the bed. Arms propped out behind you and the thin strap of your nightgown falls off your shoulder, teasing the curve of your breast, as you meet his gaze head-on. 

The longer he stares, the more the infuriatingly alluring smirk on your lips broadens. That look is enough for him to know who the guilty party is here.

“Your majesty.” Sukuna startles a little, as if he forgot the other woman was still there, and he finally glances down at her. At complete odds with you lounging on the bed, Emika’s head nearly touches the floor with how far she bows. “We weren’t expecting you.”

I bet. He mentally grouses.

“Am I interrupting something?” Sukuna sees the woman shudder, as if bearing the weight of the heavy baritone in his voice was too difficult a task. 

“No! Not at all. We were just uh—” she allows herself to meet his stare for half a second before glancing away again. “Just talking.”

A snicker sounds from the four-poster bed, and Emika whips her head to the side, lips thinning like she’s ordering you to be quiet.

“Talking? With your clothes off?”

She turns back to the emperor, and her face is flushed bright red. “I erm…we—”

“Get out.”

Emika jerks like she has just been electrocuted, but stands up, nonetheless. She takes a few steps to the door, then, as if remembering something, turns towards you and softly calls out your name, as if urging you to follow her, but Sukuna merely shakes his head.

“No, just you.”

There’s no movement, and with a glance over his shoulder, he sees the young woman frozen on the spot with her lips pursed as if she might stand her ground, but with a warning flash of his ruby reds, she is hobbling out the door like a kicked dog. Sukuna’s eyes meet yours again, and you finally pull the gown down your legs to hide supple bits of skin that both sets of his traitorous eyes lapped away at. 

“Your majesty.” You greet with a slight incline of your head, moving as if you were going to approach him, but choose to sit at the edge of the bed at the last minute. The lack of deference has him bristling.

“You aren’t bowing.”

“Weak knees. My humblest apologies.” You explain half-heartedly, and when you cross your legs, he once again has to wrench his eyes off their smooth expanse and back to your face. Sukuna definitely hadn’t met you yet. Sometimes he received brief descriptions of potential concubines, and he would wave them off before going back to his work. After all, it wasn’t like he would acquaint himself with every single one of them. 

But perhaps if he had paid more attention during your arrival, he would’ve caught you before you had made yourself so…comfortable. 

Remembering your name from Emika, he drawls it out, tests it on his tongue like it was an unfamiliar taste of exotic wine, and he was trying to decide whether he liked it or not. Being called by name makes you perk up a little.

“Do you mind explaining what I just walked in on?” You don’t answer right away, and it makes the last bit of his patience dry up, words now coming out as a low growl. “I asked you a question.”

“I heard you.” While he’s barely keeping his temper at bay, you’re completely calm and play with the threads that came loose from the bedding, as if they were more interesting than the entire conversation was. More interesting than he was. “I was just wondering how much detail you would like me to go into.”

The side of Sukuna’s face scrunches, and at his sides, all twenty fingers almost follow the movement, nearly balling into fists. But with how calm you were, he decides he could not be the one to break and lose his temper first. He takes a step closer to you, and finally, he sees the corners of your eyes crinkle as you narrow your eyes at him the tiniest bit.

So, you did have some self-preservation.

“When I first heard the rumours that someone was bedding my women, I thought it was one of my soldiers or maybe a cook. Hell, it could have even been a eunuch who had somehow evaded castration, but it’s you, isn’t it?” Your back straightens when he stops a few paces away from you, and yes, he knew for sure that it was you. “What makes you think you can take my women?”

Your lips purse for a moment, eyes shifting to and fro as you look for a good answer to give him. Then…“May I speak freely for the remainder of this conversation, your majesty?”

That elicits a sharp cackle from him.

“Why bother asking? You never needed my permission to do anything before.” You only arched an eyebrow at him, as if he were a toddler whose tantrum you were waiting out. “Speak.”

Your hair bounced as you readjusted on the bed, and without even knowing you, Sukuna could tell from the condescending gleam in your eyes that he wasn’t going to like what you were about to say. 

“You have half a thousand concubines and only pay attention to a select few, twenty on a good day. It’s hardly fair that the rest of us are expected to stay celibate just because you can’t keep up.”

What.

“Excuse me?”

“The way I see it,” you continue as if he hasn’t spoken. “You should be thanking me for keeping the ladies entertained in your stead.”

“Thank you?” he splutters with his voice the highest it’s ever been. 

“You’re welcome.”

Something between a laugh and a scoff comes from his chest, half incensed, half disbelieving as he turns his back to you. Hands go to rake over his face, passing over the hardened casing that covered the right side. A moment passed as he gathered himself, then, when he was sure he wouldn’t throttle you, he turned around again.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you don’t get to come into my house, break my one rule, then tell me I should be thanking you for it.” His words wipe the shit-eating grin off your face. “All the women know that if they’re unhappy, they can leave at anytime. I’m not forcing anyone to be here!”

“You know full well that most of them can’t go back to the conditions they lived in before!” Had anyone else raised their voice at him, they would have been cut down where they stood. But Sukuna is so thrilled that you are showing an emotion other than cool indifference, he barely pays it any mind. You stand from the bed and approach him with agility that tells him you in fact, did not have weak knees.

“You live in my house. In my kingdom,” eyes red hot as a blazing sun, sneered down at you as if they were promising to burn you to a crisp. “You follow my rules.”

Glossy lips purse as you stare up at him for a few long moments. Then that carefully blank curtain falls over your face again. “Fine. Then I should like to leave.”

You turned towards your vanity, and Sukuna only saw the piece of paper lying on it now. “I was going to hand in my resignation letter later this week, but seeing that you’re already here—”

“No.”

Feet faltering, you pause, and your shoulders work when you take a deep breath before turning around.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I won’t sign it.” Sharp canines glint as he gives you a sardonic smile.

“But you just said we could leave whenever we wanted.”

“I said my concubines could leave whenever they wanted.” The distance between the two of you closes again, and he isn’t sure who stepped closer this time. “You are a thief.”

“A thief?” You sputtered with your brows raised so high they nearly touched your hairline. “With all due respect your majesty, you have a nasty habit of making these women sound like possessions rather than people.”

“They’re mine.” He says, not even denying your comment, and when you scowl, he has to crane his head down so he can get in your face. “You think you can come into my house, eat my food, wear clothes bought with my money,” he lifts his hand, and a sharp nail catches the strap of your nightgown where it hangs off your shoulder, and tugs it up to its rightful place. “Fuck my women, and I’ll just let you leave?”

You glance down at his hand hovering over the curve of your shoulder, his nails so long they could puncture through skin with ease if he wanted to.

“You can’t keep me here against my will.”

The boisterous laughter that echoes through the room almost makes you flinch. 

“Who’s gonna stop me, huh? You?”

Your lips tremble, and he preens, thinking he has finally gotten through to you. But instead of the ugly cry he was expecting, a smile curls your lips, and you take a step forward, so close he can smell the scent of jasmine and something more edible on your skin.

“Well in that case, Lady Kyomi has been staring at me a little too closely these days. If I’m staying, I might as well pay her a visit.”

Sukuna didn’t make a habit of harming people who were a lot frailer than him. He liked the dizzying thrill of heading right into battle with combatants who were on par with him. And swords, claws and teeth would meet in a frenzy of blood and gore. 

This meant that he never lifted a hand against a woman. That is, until today, when a hand closes around your neck and pushes you back until you’re pressed against a nearby wall.

Your breath hitches.

He isn’t choking you, not really, but the threat of it, as his massive hand spans over your throat with ease and sharp nails drag along your skin, is definitely there. Sukuna could handle a lot of things, but you threatening to go after the very woman in the running to be his empress consort was out of bounds. 

“Do you wish to see me lose my temper?”

His voice was scarily low now, and the tip of his nose brushed against yours.

“You mean you haven’t already?”

“Don’t test me, little girl.” Your nose scrunches, obviously not a fan of that nickname. With his grip on your neck, he tips your head up higher so you can look at him. “You are to stay away from Kyomi, Emika and all the other concubines you have bedded. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” You say that a little too quickly for it to be convincing, and when you move into his hand around your neck instead of cowering away, he knows you aren’t going to give in so easily. “But just between us, your majesty, tell me which upsets you more, the fact that I fucked them or that I didn’t fuck you?”

A beat passes before Sukuna laughs, long and loud right in your face. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Your cock is pressing into my thighs.” You mused, and his shoulders tensed. 

Truth be told, he has been hard since he eavesdropped on you and Emika earlier. And as much as it pained him to admit it, the longer he spoke to you, the higher the tent beneath his robes pitched itself.  

“You know,” A manicured nail skirts over the opening of his robes over his bare chest and his cock twitches. “If you had just asked, I would have considered letting you join.”

Your sheer audacity has him at a loss once more.

“I wouldn’t need your permission.” He replies through clenched teeth and tries to hold his breath so your perfume wouldn’t cloud his mind. This is probably how you got people wrapped around your finger. He thought. A teasing touch, the coaxing pull of your sweetened scent and most of all your soft, taunting voice, and they would be trapped before they even knew it. 

“Oh, but you’d want it.”

Sukuna’s hand flexes around your throat, and a beat passes with him just panting inches from your mouth. Whenever the emperor couldn’t purge his temper through bloodshed, he often turned to fucking. And it seems he chose the latter as he tugs you forward and seals his lips over yours. 

You flinch at the force of the kiss, breath coming out as a soundless huff like he just knocked the air right out of your lungs. Your hands come up to rest on his thick biceps, but you don’t push him away just yet. 

Sukuna’s tongue traces over the plush seam of your lips before it plunges into your mouth, and he stiffens at the taste that hits him. Minty freshness, remnants of hibiscus tea and a little fainter, the unmistakable tartness of pussy. A fang nips at your soft lip, and he relishes the yelping sound you make as he greedily laps at a bead of blood that flows out. He wrenches himself away from you, eyes burning as he meets your gaze. 

“You put your mouth on her?” He seethes, and you only peer up at him through long lashes, a self-assured smile firmly in place on your lips. “You are infuriating.”

Hands grasp your waist and pull you off the wall and up against him. And as he leads you to the bed, your feet never touch the floor again.

Belatedly, you start to wonder whether you have bitten off more than you can chew. 

The bedsprings whine under the weight of the burly emperor lying on them. The man is made of pure muscle, and the inky black markings that cut lines down his tanned skin bulge with every movement he makes.  Four hulking arms lay at his sides, flexing impatiently as he tries to keep himself from pulling you onto him. And while he waits, two sets of eyes, four total, glare at you through his coral hair and obsessively follow you the way a predator would stalk its next meal. 

“Since you enjoy eating pussy so much, let’s see how you like being on the receiving end.” Sukuna had said a while ago, and while your heart thrashed excitedly in your chest at the prospect of sitting on his mouth, you soon realised he wasn’t talking about the one on his face. 

You could only gawk as washboard abs quivered, then gaped, giving way to a large mouth that cut through the centre of his stomach. The mouth gave you a mischievous grin, canines razor sharp, before it licked its lips in anticipation. Between that and the monstrosities, yes, monstrosities plural, that lay heavy between his legs, you aren’t sure where to look. 

“What are you waiting for?”

Your eyes bounce up to his face, and you shift a little on the foot of the bed before moving on all fours to crawl towards him. A crimson gaze burns a trail through you when you go to his side instead of immediately straddling him. You tuck your hair behind your ear before you lean down and kiss him. Sukuna’s arms snake under you, and you gasp when he forcibly pulls you on top of him. Settling on his lap, he makes sure the kiss never breaks as he sucks your lip into his mouth, chasing the taste of iron he tasted earlier.

A tongue licks a stripe up your lips, and you feel a heated breath blow against your stomach before his other mouth lolls out against your skin. You shiver above him, hands braced beside his head and almost buckling from the sensation pooling low in your belly.

“Sit on it.” Sukuna commands, breath hot against your lips, but you don’t move. A low groan sounds when you pepper a soft kiss on his mouth, and he pulls back to ask again.

“Let me taste you.”

Your dark eyes clash with his, and he blurts the word out before he can stop himself. The word he has never had to say to anyone before.

“Please.”

An emperor begging a concubine? No one would believe you if you told them. But you oblige. Straightening on his lap and moving forward until you’re hovering just above the large mouth that literally drools with your cunt so close to it. 

Hands grope at your hips, then lower you slowly.  

Whereas Sukuna is taking his time, his mouth didn’t seem to get the memo because a disarming kiss is delivered to your clit before a fat tongue lolls out and swipes a lavish lick up your slit. You forward jerk, and strong hands clamp around your form tighter, holding then pushing you further onto the relentless mouth that laps away at every drop of your slick. 

“Oh.” You huff out with a little shock colouring your tone. 

You look at Sukuna’s face again, and you see his lips gape as a light glaze covers his eyes, almost like he can taste you on both mouths. Your hips roll against his stomach when his thick tongue thrusts into your cunt, and moan slips through as your gummy walls clamp around the muscle.

“Look who can’t keep up now,” Sukuna says, referring to when you told him that you were doing him a favour by picking up the slack of tending to his ‘neglected’ concubines. 

Your hips slow, trying to lift off his mouth to give yourself a break, but he doesn’t let you, of course. And you’re not sure what possesses you, but your fingers, the same ones you had inside Emika a few minutes ago, go to his lips and slot into his mouth. 

“I keep up well enough.” You know he tastes her essence from the way his red pinpoint eyes narrow to slits, and you smile at him. “Sweet, isn’t it?”

Teeth bite down on your fingers, and you mewl at the ghost of pain that follows. His fangs pricked your skin again, and he sucks the digits into his mouth with a heavy groan. You feel his body move beneath you, and when you glance over your shoulder to see his hips rutting into the air and both his cocks leaking with precum, your tongue instinctively wets your lips.

Maybe one day you’d be brave enough to take him in your mouth too…wait, why were you thinking about that as if you’d let this happen again?

Sukuna is drooling around your fingers and on your cunt as he alternates between diving into its tight hole and sucking your clit into his mouth. When you feel his hips shudder pathetically under you, followed by the warm spray of cum against the small of your back, you almost want to make fun of him for cumming untouched. But you can’t because you’re not that far behind either. A few more shaky rolls of your hips, and he keeps you plastered to him as you tremble with your release too.

You’re still shaking when Sukuna lifts you to move you further down his muscular body. He angles the pink tip of one of his lengths with your cunt, and you feel the other bop against your ass needily. Sliding down the thick girth is no easy feat, and he doesn’t rush you, not even when his hips beg him to thrust up and bottom out. 

Moans fill the room when you sink all the way down and your head tips back. The mouth on his stomach seals itself shut, then quickly reappears near his pelvis. You’re about to tell him how uncanny it is that he keeps making it move, but your words fall short when it flicks its tongue over your hypersensitive clit.

There are too many hands to count roaming over your body. A pair pawing at your ass and urging you to bounce on him faster, and another set squeezes your tits and rolls the hardened buds of your nipples between his fingers.

Sukuna stares up at you in awe as you ride him. The light above your head forms a halo around your hair, making you look otherworldly and the sounds you make have him believing that you were some sort of fallen angel who has come to drag him to the depths of hell in condemnation for all his sins.

Your hand goes behind you, curling around his neglected cock, and he makes a sound he didn’t even know he was capable of. Your walls squeeze unbelievably tight around him as you cum not too long after him, and his hands band around you before pulling you down so he can kiss you again.

It takes a while for the two of you to stop shuddering, and only when your lips are utterly kiss-bitten and too numb to continue, do you slide off him and land at his side with a huff. 

Sukuna is still trying to catch his breath when a thought clicks into place. He was more than happy to lock you in the deepest dungeon he had so you’d never see the light of day again, but after all that, he could think of something better.

Better for him, that is.

He rises from the bed and starts to put his robes back on. “You’ll be moved into the Ruby Palace tomorrow.”

He hears you sit up, and he doesn’t have to turn around to know your eyes are probably bulging out their sockets. 

“What?!”

Your exclamation makes a pleased smile curl his lips. 

While the Rose, Jade and Emerald palaces housed all the concubines, the Ruby Palace has always been vacant.

Because it was reserved for whoever Sukuna would pick as his empress.

With an about turn, he meets your stare and offers you a mocking smile. “You’ve touched what’s mine and believe me, I’ve killed men for less. So, be happy that your emperor is generous enough to award your insubordination with a title instead of an execution, hm?”

Your mouth opens, but he’s already pulling the door open. There’s a heavy thud of something hitting the wood and a string of colourful expletives follow him as he walks back to his quarters with a spring in his step. 

Hm, maybe late-night walks really were relaxing.