The red string of fate

                                    

                                          
Part 1 of 2 (SMUTT WARNING)
My eyes snap open, and I am gasping for air, jolting upright before my body collapses back down onto the soft mattress beneath me. I am in bed... no. Not mine. I knew this room, these black silk sheets. It was Sukuna's bed. 

My mind was in a whirlwind of confusion, but I couldn't understand why. All thoughts of the book that had summoned me here had disappeared as this reality settled back onto me like a comfortable sheet, and all other thoughts of a reality out of this one ceased. 

The warmth of the other person in the bed I shared sent tendrils of heat through my body; his arm that encased my waist shifted slightly but never awoke the man beside me.

Why couldn't I remember how I had gotten here? My mind flashed blank, and then suddenly, my memories flooded back in full force; the lightbulb went off in my head, and it all suddenly made sense. I could see and feel it all happening all over again. That same arm that held me close has been in every kind of situation imaginable, pinning me to these sheets, wrapped around my throat, my tits, holding me down while he pounded into me. 

I was sore, my thighs ached, and my back hurt. Everything ached, actually. Ryomen's hold on my middle was only making it worse. But I liked it, too. Just the feel of it had my stomach jumping.

Suddenly, he shifts his weight, and his bicep tightens, pressing his skin closer to my side, as he shifts onto his back. He grunts, and his breathing is deep, even as I take him in. My eyes travel over Ryomen slowly, starting from his arm and then down his side, drinking in his toned body; his chest, arms, and even thighs are riddled with scratches, and I can't stop the smile tugging at the edges of my lips. 

When his muscles flex with movement, I still. He turns toward me as if he could feel my gaze and opens one eye, peering into my face, then huffing and rolling to face away from me. He must have been as exhausted as I was; maybe his own limbs ached and throbbed with pain. 

My body ached blissfully from being shoved into the mattress countless time, with only a little bit of a pause in between rounds so he could eat me out and let me cum, before starting again. I smell like sweat, his body, and a perfume I've worn. The scent mixes with his, like some kind of dark fantasy that every girl wanted. And, yes, he smells pretty good too. Like I could bury myself into his shoulder and never leave.

"Go back to bed, woman," the voice growled sleepily from next to me, pulling me back from my thoughts and making me jump, forgetting he was there. There is an authoritative tone behind his words, despite his sleepy raspiness, as he turns back over onto his back, trying to get comfy. The covers pulled at his waist, exposing his naked chest that was covered in tattoos and scratches.

"Sleep," he says in the same demanding voice. There's an annoyed lilt to the edge of his words and a bite to them that only comes with too little sleep. He reaches a hand over to tug at my wrist, dragging me closer. The pull is enough to wake me up fully.

When his eyes were closed, my fingers acted on their own, as if the compulsion was stronger than the willpower it takes to stop the urge. They reached out, wandering of their own free will. I noticed his abs twitch slightly as my fingertips brushed across the hard plains of his muscular abs. He shivered. A low hum emanated from deep inside his throat, a rumble of satisfaction.