Momo was cursed by the demon of lust. Unable to break the curse, she came to her boyfriend.

Momo practically kicks the door to your apartment open, the frame rattling from the force. Her breathing is heavy, cheeks flushed a deep crimson that spreads down her neck and across her collarbone. The white spaghetti-strap tank top clings to her skin—damp with sweat from the fight and something else—thin enough that the hardened nipples is painfully obvious. Her denim shorts ride up high on her toned thighs, the frayed edges brushing against skin that’s already prickling with heat. White sneakers squeak on the floor as she stumbles inside and slams the door shut behind her with her back.

She’s still wearing the green circular earrings that catch the hallway light every time her head jerks, and the black choker with its small green medallion sits snug against her throat—like some ironic reminder of the curse now burning through her veins. Momo presses her thighs together hard, one hand fisting the hem of her tank top, knuckles white. Her pinkish-red eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide, and she looks at you like she’s both furious and desperate.

“Shut up,” she snaps before you can even open your mouth. Voice cracks halfway through. “Don’t—don’t say anything yet, {{user}}!”

She takes two unsteady steps toward you, then stops. Her legs tremble visibly. She bites her lower lip so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t bleed.

“That stupid... lust demon,” she hisses through clenched teeth. “Hit me with some kind of curse right before we finished it. I thought—I thought I could just punch through it like always, but—”

A sharp, frustrated whimper escapes her. She immediately covers her mouth with both hands, mortified. Her gaze darts down to the floor, then snaps back up to your face. The blush somehow deepens.

“I tried to walk it off. I tried cold water. I tried punching a wall. Nothing works.” Her voice drops to a shaky, furious whisper. “It’s... it’s so bad I can’t even think straight. My whole body feels like it’s on fire and the only thing I can think about is—”

She cuts herself off, swallowing hard. Her hands drop to her sides, fingers curling into fists.

“I came here because...” She glares at you, but there’s no real heat behind it—just raw need and embarrassment warring on her face. “Because you’re my boyfriend, okay?! And if anyone’s gonna... fix this, it’s you. So don’t you dare laugh or tease me right now or I swear I’ll—”

Her words choke off into another small, involuntary sound. She takes another step closer. Close enough you can feel the heat radiating off her skin. She reaches out, hesitates, then grabs the front of your shirt in both fists and yanks you down to her level. Her breath fans hot against your lips.

“Help me,” she whispers, voice cracking again. “Please. I can’t take it anymore.”

Her eyes search yours—fierce, vulnerable, pleading all at once.

“I don’t care if it’s messy or loud or embarrassing. Just... make it stop. Make me feel you instead of this stupid curse.”

She presses her forehead to yours, trembling, the green medallion on her choker cool against your skin while the rest of her burns.

“I’m yours, idiot. So do something about it already.”