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Mike Driver
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@ajaxatnight
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Ajax — 19, she/they, bi, genderfluid, ADHD
✦ Masterlist
✦ requests open!!
✦ i try to write :3 || yall lowkey gotta view the blog in the goth palette
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My Fandoms ^^
Genshin, Dc, Love and Deepspace, Star Wars, Ateez, JJK, ATLA
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Current Song
All For The Camera
Pornstar!Toji x Gf!Fem!Reader
18+
Summary: Toji asks you to join one of his streams so he can show his fangirls how he really fucks
Warnings: established relationship, smut, 0 plot, mean!dom!Toji, sub!reader, older toji (reader is like 22 and hes like 27..?), p in v, unprotected, on film, rough sex, dirty talk, oral (m!receiving & f!receiving), facefucking, messy pussy eating, fingering, kinda daddy kink like not really (he calls himself it like twice), squirting, spitting, biting, choking, spanking, scratching, creampies, manhandling, overstim, dacryphilia, degradation, praise,
Wc: ~3.7k
a/n: i literally have so many abandoned drafts but i keep writing new ideas instead of finishing them </3
This is pretty proofread but again im posting at almost 4 am so if theres typos its cause im about to fall asleep
M.list
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.✦ ݁･˖ ℛ.𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 ݁･✧˚. would stay inside his pretty wife, forever if he could. 𝟏𝟖 + 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 ꒰Fem!reader ⋮⋮ Trueform!Sukuna ⋮⋮ p in v ⋮⋮ c-pied ⋮⋮ belly bulge ⋮⋮ intimate sex ⋮⋮ kissing꒱
Sukuna’s chamber was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a single oil lamp that burned low on the far table. The faint glow of flickering flames danced across the wide futon. You're laying on your back in the center of the silk sheets, thighs spread wide around Sukuna’s powerful hips.
The weight of him presses you deep into the bedding, four massive arms caging you in, four crimson eyes stay locked on your face with an intensity that steals your breath with every passing moment.
One of his massive cocks fills your cunt, stretching you open so completely that every tiny shift of his body sends jolts of overwhelming fullness through you. He's been inside you for so long that you've lost all sense of time.
It feels like hours his cock has been keeping you full, letting you feel every inch of him. The burn in your muscles deepening with every breath. Your legs tremble from holding the position you're in.
Pavloving him drabble with frat!kuna x psychstudent!reader
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ +18 m.list
Your game had started off small, something you had thought of randomly one day when trying to figure out what your end of semester psychology project should be.
You organized ideas, drew hypotheses and set up your study data. It was all really simple — a study on which type of rewards create stronger connections between conditioned stimuli and their desired responses for humans.
Sukuna had fallen victim to you easily, already your tutee and situationship/almost boyfriend kinda for the past few months. It really was simple, your rewards would be two things: good grades lead to good sex and good sex would lead to good food. On separate occasions of course, you couldnt have one set of data messing with the other.
You wanted to see which would make your favourite frat bro more inclined to perform — food, or sex.
Pavloving him drabble with frat!kuna x psychstudent!reader
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ +18 m.list
Your game had started off small, something you had thought of randomly one day when trying to figure out what your end of semester psychology project should be.
You organized ideas, drew hypotheses and set up your study data. It was all really simple — a study on which type of rewards create stronger connections between conditioned stimuli and their desired responses for humans.
Sukuna had fallen victim to you easily, already your tutee and situationship/almost boyfriend kinda for the past few months. It really was simple, your rewards would be two things: good grades lead to good sex and good sex would lead to good food. On separate occasions of course, you couldnt have one set of data messing with the other.
You wanted to see which would make your favourite frat bro more inclined to perform — food, or sex.
A Bride Of Impossible Resolve. ⊹ ࣪ ˖꒰ঌ ໒꒱.⋆˚࿔
˗ˋˏ༺❤︎༻ˎˊ˗
True form Heian era Ryomen Sukuna
˖᯽ ݁˖· ─
Synopsis: you are sent to become the King of Curses new bride, but you are not as innocent as the King thinks.
tw: 18+ content. oral (fem receiving) rude kuna, creampie, improper use of second mouth, slight choking, p in v, sexual content, p with plot lololol. Idk what else to put lol enjoy!!
────୨ৎ────
You must be cursed. By the gods, by your people, possibly even by the universe.
To avoid slaughter of your village, the elders chose you to send to the kings castle as his new bride. You had heard the rumors, a man with 4 arms, 4 eyes, and a heart made of darkness. The stories have been told for centuries, a demon, a king, a king of what? Curses. A man who is not even a man, slaughtering countless villages, kingdoms, and taking the world as his own. He is king of nearly every province stretching across all of Asia. He has had many wives, wives in which are.. gone now. Where? Who knows. Probably to hell. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he has his own gateway there where he dumps the souls of humans he no longer has use for.
The weather is quite unfitting for today, sunny, warm, a breeze that could roll away all of your worries. This breeze will not be of any help to you now though, seeing in which the female elders are bathing you, dressing you in a white bridal style kimono to show you are pure, and still innocent. Untouched.
You are hauled into a cart, pulled by two cattle. Some of the stronger men of the village accompany you on the descent up to the kings castle. If you could even call it that, more like his lair. You were told not to cry, not to disobey, and to do everything he asks you to. Not to speak without permission, better yet, do not utter a word at all.
Let us go back to the beginning, shall we? Why the elders chose you, out of all the women in the village.
For one, your mouth is untamable. You have a soul made of fire, of passion. A fire that cannot be put out, no matter how many times you’ve been punished for your slick words. No amount of threats, pain, or being locked in your room with no food for 3 days could ever break your spirit.
They figured he’d have fun with you. Break you until you’re at your wits end, and then they’d have to find another woman to take your place when he ultimately sends you to your demise.
What they didn’t realize was, you are not that stupid. Oh, the opposite actually. When they informed you of your new position, you knew exactly what you needed to do. Tame the king of curses, and take revenge upon the people in your village who had cast you out.
An honorable feat, yes. Was it undoable? Probably. Will that stop you? No, not at all.
You have decided to play the good wife, innocent woman, and then take him by surprise.
Nobody would dare talk back to him, nobody would even dare look Ryomen Sukuna in his eyes.
You will be the one.
You will not cry, your words will not falter, and you will not fear him.
Let’s get back to business.
The climb seemed endless. The higher the cart traveled, the quieter the world became.
Even the singing of the birds disappeared.
The chirping of the insects.
Even the cattle pulling the cart grew uneasy, their ears began pinning back as they trudged up the winding mountain path. Thick cedar trees towered overhead, and they swallowed what little sunlight was left at this time. Every so often, you caught glimpses of stone gates, each one stained a darker shade of red than the last.
Nobody spoke. The men escorting you had gone pale hours ago.
One of them clutched his prayer beads around his wrist so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Another was muttering blessings beneath his breath, his voice couldn’t stop trembling enough in a way which almost made you laugh.
Cowards. Every last one of them.
They were terrified of even walking this path. Did they have no empathy? Why should they be afraid when you are the one made to live with him.
The road finally leveled out, and there it stood. The kings residence.
It wasn’t the towering castle you’d imagined.
It was worse, far worse.
A sprawling estate built into the side of the mountain itself, roofs of black lacquer stacked one behind another until they disappeared into the mist. Massive oni statues stood guard at the entrance, each carved with snarling faces and fangs long enough to impale a man. Crimson banners hung motionless despite the breeze, embroidered with symbols you didn’t recognize, couldn’t even read.
It felt like it wasn’t built there, but yet the mountain itself bowed to the king.
The cattle refused to move another step, and so did the men.
“We are here,” One of the men said with quivering lips. “You will walk the rest of the way,”
Of course you will.
You stepped onto the stone path. No one reached out to steady you. No one offered words of comfort.
The elder cleared his throat.
“…Remember what we told you.”
You looked at him. For just a moment. His eyes flickered away.
“Of course.”
Your smile was small. Sweet. Perfect.
“I’ll make our village proud.”
The guilt on his face almost made the trip worthwhile. Without another word, the gates groaned open, and the men took the cattle and the carriage, and fled back down the mountain. Leaving you alone.
The heavy doors slammed shut behind you the moment you crossed the threshold.
The sound echoed through the estate.
The men outside didn’t call your name.
Didn’t wait.
Didn’t even look back.
“…How rude.”
The voice came from somewhere ahead. You followed it through a long corridor lined with flickering lanterns. The scent of sandalwood mixed strangely with iron, and beneath your sandals, the polished floors were so immaculate you could almost see your reflection.
The corridor opened into an enormous audience hall, and your feet stopped before your mind could tell them to.
There he was.
Ryomen Sukuna.
He sat lazily atop an elevated platform, one leg bent while the other stretched over the edge as though this entire meeting bored him.
Four arms.
Four eyes.
Pink hair that caught the late light of the evening.
Black markings crawled across his skin like living ink, disappearing beneath the loose folds of his robes.
He was beautiful. In the same way a lightning strike was beautiful. The same way standing at the edge of a cliff was beautiful.
Something magnificent that could kill you without a second thought.
His upper right hand rested against his cheek.
The lower left lazily spun a dagger between his fingers.
His eyes settled on you.
All four of them.
The room suddenly felt too small.
“So.”
His voice rolled through the hall.
“This is the offering.”
You lowered your head into a respectful bow. “My lord.”
Silence.
You counted the seconds.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
“…Look at me.”
There it was. Your first test.
The village had ordered you never to meet his eyes, and of course, you will not head their warnings.
So you slowly lifted your head. And looked directly into all four of them.
The dagger stopped spinning. One of his brows rose.
“…Interesting.”
A slow smile spread across his face.
"What's your name, woman?" He asks you, though his tone suggests he doesn't particularly care at all.
“It is y/n, my lord.”
"Y/n," he repeats, the syllables rolling off his tongue like something to be tasted. He tilts his head, studying you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. “A simple name for a simple offering."
He then gestures toward the elaborate feast spread across the low table in the corner. There are roasted meats, sake, rice, seared vegetables, fresh mochi cakes, and seasonal fruits. "Eat."
This is where it begins. “May I decline, my lord? I am not particularly hungry.”
His eyebrows twitch at your polite refusal. Most would tremble and obey without question, but you possess a quiet confidence that intrigues him despite himself. His gaze sharpens, piercing through you."You'll eat my food," he states, more demand than question. "It's disrespectful to decline a King’s hospitality."
“Of course my lord. I am deeply sorry.” You bow again, playing the coy woman. You walk yourself over to the table of food, and take your seat.
His eyes follow you as you sit, noting the graceful movement of your body, the way the kimono falls around you. The village elders mentioned you were difficult. Rebellious. Unyielding. Yet here you are, bowing and eating according to his wishes, or perhaps just following the rules of survival. He does not know which it is yet. He walks to his seat across from you, pouring himself a cup of sake.
You keep your gaze lowered as you reach for the bowl of rice, careful not to rush. You know he is watching. Every movement that you make, and every breath you take into your lungs.
You bring the first bite to your lips. Then the second.
Only enough to satisfy the command.
Across from you, Sukuna lazily swirls the sake in his cup before taking a drink.
“You eat like someone expecting poison.”
You set your chopsticks down.
“If you intended to poison me, my lord, I imagine I would already be dead.”
A corner of his mouth lifts.
“You assume I wouldn’t enjoy watching it work.”
“I assume,” you reply evenly, “that if you wished to kill me, you wouldn’t waste good food doing it.”
Silence.
One of his lower hands drums a slow rhythm against the table.
“…The elders did not tell me you were clever.”
“They did not think I was.”
“Hm.”
His eyes narrow slightly.
“They told me you were troublesome.”
You almost smile.
His grin grows sharper.
“I was beginning to think they had lied.”
He reaches across the table with one of his upper hands, plucking a grape from the bowl between you.
Instead of eating it himself…
He holds it toward you.
“Open.”
Another test. You know it immediately.
If you hesitate, you offend him.
If you obey too eagerly, you become another frightened bride.
Slowly, you lift your eyes to his.
Without a word, you lean forward just enough to accept the fruit.
Your lips brush against the tips of his fingers.
Deliberately. Only for an instant. Then you lean back, chewing quietly as though nothing had happened.
His hand remains suspended in the air. Interesting.
Not because you touched him.
Because you hadn’t flinched. Most people recoiled before they ever came close enough to feel his skin.
You hadn’t even blinked.
He withdraws his hand.
“You’ve been taught manners.”
“I have.”
“And yet your village still wished to be rid of you.”
Your fingers pause around the porcelain cup.
So.
He already knows.
Of course he does.
“You’ve done your research.”
“I know everything worth knowing that enters my land.”
His gaze lingers on your face.
“So tell me…” His voice softens.
“What offense earned you this honor?”
You lower your eyes once more.
“They found me difficult.”
“I gathered that.”
“I asked too many questions.”
“Hm.”
“I disagreed with my elders.”
“I can imagine.”
“I refused a marriage.”
At that, one of his brows lifts.
“The son of the village chief.”
“And?”
“He believed my refusal insulted his family.”
“So they handed you to me instead.”
You nod once.
“They believed it solved two problems.”
A low chuckle rumbles through the hall.
“Cowards.”
The word leaves his mouth with unmistakable contempt. “They feared one woman’s tongue more than they feared sending her to a monster.”
His crimson eyes meet yours again. “…Pathetic.”
Out of nowhere, he crushes the ceramic sake cup in one hand without so much as looking at it.
Fragments scatter across the table.
“I despise weak rulers. There is no value in leaders who throw away useful tools because they cannot control them.”
His gaze settles on you once more.
The silence stretches between you two.
Neither of you reached for the food.
The brazier crackled softly between you, its flames throwing restless shadows across the room. Sukuna leaned back against the cushion at his side, one arm draped lazily over his raised knee while another rested on the table. To anyone else, it may have looked relaxed.
You knew better.
Predators looked calm before they struck.
“You’ve gone quiet.”
You folded your hands neatly in your lap.
“I was waiting for permission to speak.”
“Hm.”
His upper right hand tapped against his cheek.
“And if I never gave it?”
“I would remain silent.”
“You’d obey?”
“I would fulfill my duty as your wife.”
His lips curled.
“Liar.”
The word came so quickly that you almost looked up in surprise.
“I don’t believe a single thing you’ve said since you have arrived.”
Your expression remained smooth.
“Then why ask me questions?”
“Because eventually…”
He leaned forward.
“…everyone slips.”
His crimson eyes bored into yours.
“They speak without thinking. They forget themselves.They reveal who they are.”
One of his lower hands reached across the table, plucking your untouched cup of tea from in front of you.He drank from it.Then set it back exactly where it’d been.
“I have patience.” His smile widened. “You’ll disappoint yourself before you disappoint me.”
You looked down at the cup. “You’ve shared my tea, my lord.”
“I have.”
“Was there a reason?”
“Does there need to be?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He watched for a reaction.
Disgust. Embarrassment. Flattery.
Nothing.
Only that same composed expression.
“…You’re difficult to read.”
“I’ve been told.”
“I dislike that.”
“I gathered.”
Another pause.
Then, unexpectedly,
“What do you think of me?”
Your fingers tightened beneath the table.
It was a dangerous question. The truth would get you killed. A lie would insult him.
You chose neither.
“I think…”
You lifted your gaze carefully.
“…that you are exactly as powerful as the stories claim.”
His expression didn’t change.
“And?”
“You are observant.”
“Hm.”
“You see things others don’t.”
“Go on.”
“And I believe…”
You let your words linger for just a heartbeat.
“…that you’re lonelier than anyone would dare admit.”
The room froze. The air itself seemed to grow heavier. Outside, the wind died.
For the first time since entering his palace…You wondered if you’d gone too far.
Sukuna stared at you. Expressionless.
The wooden table cracked beneath one of his hands.
A jagged line spread through the lacquered surface with a sharp crack.
“You presume much.”
His voice had dropped lower than before.
“I do.”
“You think because I’ve allowed you to breathe…”
His smile returned, though there was no amusement in it now. “…that you’ve begun to understand me?”
“No.”
“Then why say it?”
You met his gaze without wavering.
“Because you asked.”
Silence.
Another long…
Uncomfortable silence.
Then, to your surprise,
He laughed.
Not loudly, or mockingly. It was short.
A single breath of amusement through his nose.
“Good.”
He stood.
Towering over the ruined table.
“I was beginning to think you’d answer like every other woman brought before me.”
He stepped around the feast, stopping at your side.
One large hand came to rest atop your head. Not affectionately, of course.
He gripped your chin just enough to force you to tilt upward.
“You have courage.”
His thumb brushed your chin lightly.
“Or astonishing stupidity.”
“I haven’t decided which.”
His four eyes searched yours again.
Long enough that your neck began to ache beneath the weight of his hand.
Finally, he released you.
“You’ll stay.”
The words were spoken as though they required no explanation.
He turned toward the doorway.
“Oh.”
Without looking back, he added,
“And stop pretending.”
Your heartbeat began to quicken.
“I don’t know which version of yourself is real. But the obedient bride…”
A quiet chuckle echoed through the hall.
“…is the least convincing performance I’ve seen in centuries.”
Then he walked away, leaving you alone before the half finished feast.
Your hands remained folded in your lap. Perfectly still.
Only after the doors slid shut behind him…Did the smallest smile tug at the corner of your lips.
He had seen through the act. Not all of it. But enough.
Which meant one thing.
The real game…Had finally begun.
The room was yours again.
You exhaled slowly, the breath leaving your lungs far shakier than you would’ve liked.
“…He is insufferable.”
“Careful.”
The unfamiliar voice made your shoulders stiffen.
A man emerged from one of the shadowed hallways carrying an empty serving tray. His hair was pale, tied loosely at the nape of his neck. Unlike everyone from your village, he didn’t look terrified.
Only tired.
Very tired.
“You’ll offend him if he hears you.”
You watched him carefully.
“And you are?”
He offered a shallow bow.
“Uraume.”
“So he does keep servants.”
“I serve because I choose to.”
You weren’t sure you believed that.
Uraume stepped around the cracked table as though it were an everyday inconvenience. Which, judging by the ease with which they moved, perhaps it was.
Their eyes flicked toward your untouched meal.
“You hardly ate.”
“He wasn’t interested in whether I was hungry.”
“No.”
They began collecting shattered pieces of the sake cup as casually as if they were flower petals.
“You are different.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“He has, too.”
Your attention sharpened.
“What did he say?”
Uraume looked at you for a long moment.
“…Nothing.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It is with Lord Sukuna.”
You frowned.
“He usually kills the ones he finds dull.”
“…Usually?”
“The last bride survived…”
They paused, thinking.
“…Until the following morning.”
Your stomach sank.
“What happened?”
“She lied.”
“About what?”
“She said she loved him.”
The room fell silent.
“…That was enough?”
Uraume placed the final shard onto the tray.
“It insulted his intelligence.”
You looked away.
So.
Flattery wouldn’t work. Pretending devotion wouldn’t work.
Perhaps the village had been right. Perhaps there truly was no taming him.
“Come.”
Uraume balanced the tray on one hand.
“I’ll show you your quarters.”
The palace was even larger from the inside. Long corridors stretched endlessly beneath carved wooden beams blackened with age.
No guards patrolled. No servants bustled about.
The place was eerily… empty.
“Does no one else live here?”
“Many do.”
“I haven’t seen anyone.”
“You aren’t meant to.”
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.
Eventually, Uraume stopped before a pair of cedar doors.
“This is yours.”
The room was beautiful.
Tatami mats covered the floor. Silk bedding rested upon a raised platform. An open veranda overlooked the mountains below, where clouds drifted lazily through the valleys.
Fresh flowers sat in a porcelain vase near the window.
You blinked.
“He had these prepared?”
“They’re replaced every morning.”
“For… his wives?”
“No.”
Uraume answered without emotion.
“For you.”
Your brows knit together.
“How could he have known I’d like flowers?”
“He didn’t.”
“Then why?”
“He likes them.”
You stared.
“…He likes flowers?”
“He likes beautiful things.”
That was somehow more unsettling.
Before you could ask another question, footsteps echoed through the corridor.
Uraume immediately stepped aside.
You turned just as Sukuna rounded the corner.
He had changed out of his ceremonial robes.
Now he wore a simpler dark yukata, though “simple” felt like the wrong word for a man whose mere presence made the hallway seem smaller.
His eyes landed on you.
Then on Uraume.
“Leave.”
Uraume bowed once and disappeared without another word.
You were alone with him again.
Sukuna glanced toward your room.
“You approve?”
“It is more than I expected.”
“I know.”
“…Thank you.”
One brow lifted.
“You thank me?”
“It seemed appropriate.”
“Hm.”
His gaze drifted past you, into the room.
“You’ve been asking questions.”
“A few.”
“What did you learn?”
“That lying to you is unwise.”
A grin tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“And…”
You hesitated.
“You like flowers.”
His eyes slowly returned to yours.
“…Does that surprise you?”
“A little.”
“Why?”
“I suppose I imagined someone who conquers kingdoms wouldn’t care for gardens.”
“I don’t.”
“…Then why keep them?”
He looked past you, toward the vase by the window.
“They bloom. They wither. They bloom again.”
A pause.
“They don’t complain while doing it.”
You couldn’t help yourself.
“So that’s the quality you admire?”
“No.”
His gaze lingered on the petals.
“The certainty.”
Before you could make sense of that answer, he started walking again. After only a few steps, he spoke without turning around.
“You will consummate with me tomorrow.”
Your stomach tightened.
He gave a low hum.
“You are to officially become my wife.”
He looked over one shoulder, one crimson eye catching yours.
Then he continued down the corridor, leaving those words hanging in the air.
You stood frozen in the doorway of your new chambers.
The words repeated in your mind.
You will consummate with me tomorrow.
Your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your kimono. Of course.
What had you expected?
A monster who ruled through fear would not suddenly care about your comfort. He had accepted you into his home, given you a room, fed you his food, and allowed you to speak.
But that did not mean you were free.
You were still the offering. The sacrifice.
The village had dressed you in white and sent you here hoping you would disappear like every woman before you. And yet your expression remained calm.
Because if there was one thing you refused to give him, it was the satisfaction of seeing you break.
Tomorrow.
You had one night. One night to understand the man everyone feared. One night to decide whether your plan was possible.
Because if Sukuna believed you were nothing more than another possession…Then you would let him believe it.
The night was strangely quiet. Too quiet. You had expected screams. The sounds of battle. Anything that matched the stories you had heard. Instead, the King’s palace rested peacefully beneath the moonlight. Almost as if it wasn’t the home of a man who had brought entire kingdoms to their knees.
You sat by the open veranda, staring out at the mountains. Your mind wandered.The elders.The villagers.Their faces when they told you.
“You should be grateful.”
Grateful. The word still made your blood boil. They hadn’t sacrificed themselves.They hadn’t even considered anyone else.They chose you because they knew you wouldn’t bow easily.Because they knew your spirit was the only thing they couldn’t control.
A soft sound came from behind you.
You didn’t turn immediately.
You already knew.
“You’re awake.”
Sukuna stepped onto the veranda.
“You sound disappointed.”
“I’m surprised.”
“By what?”
“That you announce your arrival instead of appearing like a ghost.”
A quiet hum.
“You’re becoming comfortable.”
You looked toward him.
“No.”
“Good.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Comfort makes people careless.”
He stepped beside the railing, looking out at the same mountains you had been watching.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was strange.
Standing beside the most feared man alive…
And realizing he was not interested in filling the silence.
“You aren’t afraid.”
There it was again. That observation. That curiosity.
You glanced at him.
“I am.”
His eyes shifted toward you.
“But?”
“But fear does not change what must be done.”
Something unreadable crossed his face. Most people would have expected anger.
Instead, it was Interest.
“You speak as though you have already accepted your fate.”
“I accepted reality.”
“And what is your reality?”
You looked back toward the mountains.
“That I was sent here.”
A pause.
“That I cannot leave.”
Another pause.
“And that if I wish to survive, I must understand you.”
The corner of his mouth lifted.
“Understand me?”
“Yes.”
“And you believe you can?”
“No.”
That answer seemed to catch him off guard.
“I believe I can try.”
For once, Sukuna did not immediately respond. The wind moved between you.
“You are strange.”
“I’ve heard.”
“No.”
His gaze settled on you.
You remained silent.
“you want revenge.”
Your eyes narrowed.
There it was. The first crack. The first sign that he had noticed more than you wanted him to.
“Be careful, woman.”
His voice lowered.
“Secrets are fragile things.”
You held his gaze.
“So are kingdoms.”
For several seconds, neither of you moved.
Then, Sukuna laughed softly.
Not kindly.
Not cruelly.
Amused.
“Tomorrow should be interesting.”
And with that, he left you beneath the moonlight.
Leaving you with the unsettling realization.
That the King of Curses was not fooled by your act.
He was waiting to see what you would do when the act was no longer enough.
The next day came quickly, quicker than you’d like.
Once awake, you spent your day wandering the palace. You visited the gardens, took walks in the bath house, and occupied yourself until the night stretched across the lands. You returned to your room, and waited. A short time passed before a knock at your door came, you walked up and opened it to be greeted by 3 women, your ladies in waiting. Apparently, to be ready to be bedded, was a 3 person job.
“Undress please my lady,” a woman spoke. Her voice soft and kind. The women looked for imperfections, scars, they studied your body until they were satisfied. An older woman spoke first. “She is perfect,”
Followed by another woman, “indeed,” she turned to face you, “you have a perfect body to give him an heir.”
“An heir? I did not think he was interested in that.”
“He isn’t, but it is good to know you are capable of it.” She walked away into the far end of the room, gathering spices. “You will soak in a bath, and then you will be dressed in your nightly robes. We will walk you to the door of his chambers, where the consummation shall take place.”
For the next hour, you are bathed, washed, and rubbed down in various lotions, oils and scents.
Your ladies dress you in a soft white nightly gown, to symbolize innocence and purity. “Are you ready, my lady?”
“Yes, I am.” Your voice is shakier than you want, but it is the truth. You are ready.
They walk you through many long corridors, stopping at two large doors. “We shall take our leave now,” and with that, you are left alone, standing in front of his chambers.
The heavy doors to his master chambers slide open, revealing a room dominated by a massive, elevated futon covered in dark red silks. You step inside with shaky legs, and await what is to come. And although it is not what anyone has ever felt, you are feeling excited, for what? That is unknown. The doors slide shut behind you with an ominous click.
You stood in the center of the room, hands folded neatly in front of you.
Waiting.
A few moments passed.
Then,
Footsteps.
Slow.
Unhurried.
The doors opened behind you. You did not turn immediately. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you startle.
“You are better at pretending than most.”
His voice filled the room. You turned. Sukuna stood at the entrance, his gaze immediately finding yours.He had changed from his usual robes, though even without the armor of a king, he carried the same overwhelming presence.
“You make it sound as if it is an insult,” you start, but then are cut off with his voice.
“It is.”
He steps closer, closing the distance between you. His four eyes trace the curve of your white night attire, the way your hair catches the flickering candlelight, and the subtle defiant set of your shoulders. "You speak as though your obedience is a negotiation." He reaches out with one large hand, tilting your chin up to force your gaze to meet his.
"It is hardly negotiation, my King," you reply smoothly, lifting your chin to meet his overwhelming gaze despite your smaller stature. Your beautiful skin is lit softly in the candlelight. "It is simply acknowledging that I am a wife, not a slave. My duty includes obedience, yes, but I still possess a voice."
“You dare speak to me that way, woman? Your mouth has not learnt its place. No matter how much you pretend, you cannot hide anymore, can you?”
“Show me my place, my lord. And I will accept it.”
His thumb brushes against your jaw, the touch surprisingly controlled given his reputation for brutality. He seems almost... amused by your audacity. "Tsk. You don’t want to learn your place, you wish to dismantle it. A voice," he repeats, as if testing the word on his tongue. "Most women simply tremble and offer nothing but tears. You offer... commentary." His upper right hand releases your chin, moving to trace the edge of your white sleepwear, his fingers push softly into your shoulder.
Your breath hitches slightly as his clawed fingers trace the delicate fabric, but you force yourself to remain still. This is your moment. You will show him that his dark reputation doesn't intimidate you."My voice is merely the byproduct of my personality, my lord," you state, tilting your head slightly.
His four eyes narrow at your refusal to tremble, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face before settling back into his mask of cold indifference. "Personality," he repeats flatly, taking a step back. The distance between you now feels wider, more formal. "The court told me you were... energetic. I suppose that is a kind way of putting it."
"Energetic," you repeat with a dry laugh, your hair bouncing as you shake your head. "Is that what they call it at court? That's a very polite euphemism."
His lips twitch with something that might be amusement or simply irritation. He turns away abruptly, giving you a view of his broad, muscular back and the tattoo like markings that seem to dance in the candlelight. "I expect silence and obedience from my wife, not... commentary." He orders coldly.
“Yes my lord, I am deeply sorry.”
"Now, are you ready to consummate?" He demands, his voice dropping an octave, losing the patience for the verbal sparring. The question hangs heavy in the air between you, a command rather than an inquiry. He turns back to face you fully, his towering presence dominating the room. "Do not make me ask twice."
“Yes, my lord. I am ready,” your voice is breathy, and you can’t help but start to notice things about him. His muscles, his broad shoulders, his deep voice and his long fingers. The impure thoughts berating your mind feel as if they can be heard by him.
He gives a sharp, and satisfied nod, the tension in the room shifting instantly from verbal sparring to a kind of raw, primal intent. He steps forward, closing the small distance between you until his massive shadow completely engulfs your smaller frame.
"Good." He reaches down, gripping the fabric of your white embroidered night gown with both lower hands, beginning to tug the layers apart. The silk parts effortlessly, sliding down your shoulders and pooling around your feet, leaving your skin completely bare before him. Your hair falls down your shoulders, contrasting beautifully with your curves. His four eyes rake over you without shame, slowly assessing your naked form. There is undeniable approval in his gaze, even he cannot deny he was sent a stunning woman. "Lay down on the bedding."
You obey, stepping carefully out of the pooled silk and moving toward the massive futon in the center of the room. You lower yourself onto the luxurious bedding, your hair spreading out against the dark pillows like a halo, your skin glistening softly in the dim light. He towers over the edge of the bed, watching you like a predator observing its prey. He begins to disrobe, letting his own robe fall open to reveal his terrifying, magnificent form. Four powerful arms, intricate black markings stretching across his muscular chest, and the massive, erection that stands proudly beneath his waist. His four eyes burn into yours as he climbs onto the bedding, the mattress dipping dangerously under his heavy weight. "Spread your legs."
Your curiosity gets the best of you, despite the situation, you cannot help but let your eyes drop to his stomach. You stare, mouth agape, at a second mouth placed right above his groin. He obviously catches you staring, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips. "Do you find that distracting, wife?" His voice is dripping with mockery. Before you can respond, the second mouth on his stomach opens, a wet curling tongue emerging to lick slowly across his abdomen in warning. “Careful woman. Watch what you gaze upon."
“I- I am sorry my lord I am simply-“
“Nervous?.” He finishes for you, his tone dripping with condescension. He looms over you, positioning himself between your spread thighs, that thick cock pressing against your inner thigh. not inside you yet, but promising its entrance. His lower hands press your knees wider apart, keeping you open and exposed. “You need not apologize for looking.” He catches the subtle whimper that leaves your lips as his hands grip your knees, and the slick heat radiating from your thighs. His nose flares, the scent of arousal hitting his inhuman senses. One of his upper hands moves down, tracing along the inside of your thigh where glistening wetness already coats your folds.
"You are genuinely aroused?." He states observationally, almost like he's surprised. Perhaps expecting tears and trembling instead.
“Yes my lord, I am awaiting.” you sigh out, meeting his two sets of eyes.
His thumb finds your clit, circling it once slowly and deliberately. The touch is clinical, not tender but a surveyor assessing terrain. "This is good," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. "Do not embarrass yourself by crying out during the actual act."He positions himself at your entrance, that massive head pressing against your slick opening. "Breathe."
Despite his command, your breath catches in your throat almost immediately. His voice remains steady, commanding you to maintain your composure. His upper hands grip your hips tightly, pinning you to the futon as he begins to push the thickest part of his length against your entrance, not yet inserting, but making his presence undeniable."Breathe deeply, wife. I will not have you choking." He stares sternly into your eyes, looking for any hints of fear.
You slow your breathing, taking slow deep breaths, allowing the air to fully circulate in your body before breathing out. He begins pushing in, his size stretching your opening to fit him. He pauses, for a small moment allowing you to adjust before he continues pushing into your core. The room is nearly silent, aside from the small creaking of the futon beneath you. He continues watching your face carefully, monitoring every single reaction. His lower hands spread your thighs wider while his upper hands maintain their grip on your hips, keeping you open and immobile. With slow, deliberate movements, he begins to feed his massive length into you inch by agonizing inch. “Calm down woman.”
“I- I am trying,” you breath out, gasps leaving you every second. “It is.. mmm.. I am,” the sound slips out before you can stop it. a sharp, stifled gasp. Your fingers dig into the silk futon underneath you, your brow furrowing in response to the overwhelming sensation of being filled. Your hair moves slightly as you tilt your head back in an involuntary struggle to maintain composure.
His gaze remains sharp, observing every flinch and micro expression your face gives to him.
"That sound," he says, his voice low and deep, "was not a breath. I warned you about crying out." He pauses, his massive length halfway inside you, stretching you beyond what feels possible. "Do it again, and I will gag you."
“do.. you not wish to know I am experiencing pleasure, my lord?” Unfortunately, despite your best efforts, your hips involuntarily roll up, chasing more movement, more friction. His grip on your hips tightens, hard enough to bruise.
He stops pushing, the tip of his massive cock resting against your cervix. His eyes narrow dangerously at your audacity, a wife questioning him during the act. "You are my wife, Your pleasure is irrelevant to my satisfaction." His lower hands push you deeper onto the futon, his tone final. You nod, biting your lip to control further noise. Unsuccessful of course. A moan escapes your plump lips and his eyes narrow at your stubborn resistance to control. The sound slips through your clenched teeth despite your efforts, leaving you vulnerable to his mocking gaze. His thumb brushes across your jaw, feeling the vibration of your struggle. "You cannot control yourself." He states, rather than asks. "I want no wife who leaks noise every time my weight touches her."
“I am sorry, I cannot..! It, it is excruciatingly pleasing.” Another push upwards, your body betrays you. Your mind says to obey, yet your body needs more. He stills instantly, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits at your confession. He seems genuinely unbothered by your pleasure and more irritated by your lack of restraint. "I do not care if it feels good," he snaps, his upper hands gripping your jaw to force your eyes onto his. "This is about my satisfaction, not yours. Control yourself."
“I swear my king, I am trying my hardest,”
Your hips roll upward entirely without permission, your body betraying your mind's desperate attempt at obedience. The slick friction draws a ragged gasp from your throat, your skin glistening with a sheen of sweat as you instinctively chase more of that overwhelming sensation."Stop moving,"
“Well then you must!”
“You dare speak a plea for me to fulfill your desires, woman? I am not moving to accommodate your pleasures.” He snaps sharply, “you will remain still, and you will learn discipline while I fuck you, wife.” He pushes his cock in deeper, hitting your cervix.
“o-oh my god! I- I cannot, it is-..” A untamable mouth indeed. The loud cry escapes you instantly as his thick length pounds deep, hitting your most sensitive spot. His face contorts into an angry mask, the sight of your helpless, gasping body under him causing visible irritation rather than pleasure. "There it is again," He growls, "That disgusting noise."
“You.. you cannot tell me you do not find pleasure in the sounds of your wife in the chambers,”
His movements slow, his thick length pulsing inside you as he glares down at you, clearly displeased with your defiance. "You are my wife, not my lover," he corrects coldly, his massive form looming over you. "Your sounds are not music to my ears. they are a reminder of your lack of control."
“And if I am not to be your lover, then who is?”
“Nobody. I shall not partake in such humanly matters such as love. It is unruly and disgusting,” He does not hesitate, his expression remaining coldly indifferent. "I have a wife for duty, lineage, and convenience." He thrusts sharply, cutting off any further argument, his four hands pinning you completely immobile. "Love is a weakness for mortals. Do not mistake your role for affection."
“So.. do you not love pussy my lord?” You tilt your head, gripping onto the silk beneath you.
He stops moving entirely, the audacity of the question hanging heavily in the air. His four eyes narrow at you, the stomach mouth twisting into a jagged grin as he stares down at your trembling form. "I enjoy conquest. I enjoy taking what belongs to me." His voice is devoid of affection. "Pussy is a commodity. I do not 'love' it."
“I see,” you sigh, twisting your face into a small frown.
His jaw tightens at your simple observation, as if your acceptance of his coldness displeases him in some unspoken way. His massive cock pulses inside you, your wetness coating him as he considers your words. The stomach mouth curls its tongue deliberately against his abdomen, a strange, almost irritated gesture. "You sound disappointed." He resumes slow, punishing thrusts.
“Yes, I am. Quite,” You are now a little more able to quiet yourself. Allowing yourself only small gasps.
He freezes mid thrust, his four eyes blazing down at you with something dangerously close to curiosity. "You are disappointed?" He repeats, the concept clearly foreign to him. "A mortal woman is disappointed that her King of Curses does not whisper sweet nothings through four mouthfuls of teeth?"
“Yes my king. I am.” You avoid his gaze entirely, feeling as though your plan is actually undoable.
The sheer audacity renders him momentarily speechless. a mortal woman actually complaining that a monstrous Curse King does not offer romance. His four hands pin you harder, his cock burying deep inside you."You are absolutely ridiculous." He delivers a sharp, ruthless thrust. "I am a curse. I slaughter thousands. I ruin nations. You expect love?" He snaps.
“I do not, but would it be so bad?” You must have lost your mind. Truly. His massive frame tenses at your casual remark, something almost absurd and comical in the face of such cold, calculated violence. "It would be disastrous." His voice remains utterly matter of fact, as if discussing the weather rather than the potential for romance. "I do not 'do' love, wife. I do not 'do' softness."
“Should you not ever wish to try? Should you not wish to put the organ beating inside of your chest to good use?” You allow your eyes to meet his again, something you have been avoiding the past few moments.
"Try?" He repeats the word with visceral disgust, as if you've just suggested he try eating garbage. "I have existed for over a thousand years. I have never 'tried' anything that did not serve my purposes."
You cannot stop yourself from smiling. “Love shall serve you my lord. You do not know if it does, or doesn’t. Seeing as though you have never tried.” You did make up your mind, you will tame the king of curses. This may be your best attempt, and it seems as though it is going… not so well.
“You are clever, woman. I will give you that. Show me this ‘love’ you seem to speak of. I should like to see what you won’t shut up about.” His challenge hangs in the air like a dare. an impossibility. The King of Curses, who has carved mountains with cleave and dismantle, who has felled gods and amassed thousands of followers through terror alone, now sits perched on the precipice of something entirely unknown. He has devoured, conquered, and corrupted... but never loved.
And he demands proof.
“Well, I believe you should find pleasure in my pleasure, my lord. When you love, their pleasure is your own.”
The suggestion is heresy. Utter, blasphemous heresy. Sukuna has taken what he desired from countless women across a millennium. Their bodies, their cries, their submission and never once considered their satisfaction as anything other than a metric of his own dominance. To pleasure the woman? Why would he? She is there for his release. His satisfaction.
“This is a foreign concept. An unruly ideal.”
“Should you want to do this, or not my lord?”
“Speak, woman.”
“Fuck me as if you want me to make noise. For you, for your ears only.”
This order flips his entire existence upside down. For a millennium, he has fucked women and demanded silence, pounded them into oblivion where their noises were meaningless disgusting noise. To fuck with the specific intention of drawing out sounds for his own pleasure is a concept entirely alien to him. His four massive hands settle heavily onto your body, gripping your hips and thighs with terrifying strength. “I shall give you what you want wife, and if this gives me no pleasure or satisfaction, you will perish.”
“I am confident in my ways, my lord. Now show me what you believe it is to please a woman.”
He scoffs, as if this entire situation is a joke. Yet, he continues. He slips out of you, and positions himself again to slide back in. This time, with slow, accurate precision. You gasp at the softer entrance, dipping your head back against the plush pillows and allowing yourself to whimper. The sound that escapes your mouth hits hips. His hips shift instinctively, pulling back slightly to savor the sound. His eyes narrow, all four of them focusing on your face, watching your mouth, your throat, your chest heave with each desperate sound. Something dark and ancient stirs inside him, an extremely unfamiliar sensation. “Is this what you wanted, wife?”
“Yes, yes-“ You sigh and bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Keep going, I beg of you,” He obeys. Not because you command him, you couldn't command a flea even if you tried. but because your sound demands it. The king of curses, who has answered to no one for a thousand years, finds himself enslaved to the melody leaving your mouth.His thrusts begin, not with his usual dominating rhythm, but with something calculated.
You release more sounds, more noise that should not sound heavenly. More lustful melodies for him to hear. You reach your arms up to hold onto his broad shoulders, keeping eye contact. “I should like to call upon your name, your true name. May I, my king? Please?” He freezes at the request. No mortal has ever spoken his true name. It is a name whispered in ancient texts, a name that can summon his very essence. To hear it on your lips, in the midst of this... experiment... is almost unbearably painful. “Please, I beg of you. Allow me this,” You say within small moans and whimpers, your nails digging into the skin on his shoulder.
"Ryomen Sukuna." The name leaves his lips like a heavy decree, granting permission to something that has been forbidden to mortals for a thousand years. It sounds raw, stripped of its god-like terror, reduced to a mere identifier between your entwined bodies. "Scream it," he commands, his hips snapping forward harder, demanding the sound he now craves. A craving unknown to him. He has never wanted for a woman, a mere toy to speak his true name. To acknowledge him in any way other than Lord, or King.
The sounds in which that leave you now are primal, only the sound of true, pleasure. You don’t even try to stop the whimpering, the noise, the moans. The wet sounds of your bodies mixing together fill the room. A room in which has been silent for an amount of time unimaginable. “You are- you are so.. incredible when you want it sukuna.”
The sentence destroys whatever he has left in him. Your moan wrapped around his true name, something forbidden, sacred, intimate. strikes him harder than any attack he has ever faced. It hits his cursed brain with an addictive feeling. His rhythm shifts instantly, abandoning brutality for devastating, calculated perfection. Every thrust is designed to pull that exact sound from your throat. He needs it again, he needs to hear it forever.
"I can’t, oh fuck! please, sukuna, don't stop!" You cry out, your nails digging desperately into his broad, tattooed shoulders as your body arches off the futon. The pleasure is overwhelming, blinding, dragging broken moans from your throat with every snap of his hips. "You feel so good, oh god- right there, please!" Your legs wrap around him instinctively, pulling him deeper. Your back arches so sharply it threatens to snap as you throw your head back, a broken scream tearing from your throat. His hands find yours, pinning them above your head, not to dominate but to feel your fingers clench, to feel your need.
"Again," he demands, his voice stripped of its usual cruelty, raw and needy instead.
You gasp out a broken moan, your body trembling beneath him. "Yes, yes! sukuna, please!" Your hips buck upward, chasing the friction between you. your back arching like a bow. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, your nails scratching lightly against his scalp.
"Please- I'm s’close, don't stop-"
He doesn't stop. He can't. Your sounds have hooked into something primal within him, awaking a craving that eclipses his thousand year dominance. He watches your face contort, your mouth opening and closing, your eyes rolling back.
"Closer," he demands, his pace becoming relentless, brutal and precise. He is making sure he hits exactly where he heard your loudest cries.
Your moans hit him like physical punched. Every one is sharper, more desperate than the last. Your legs shake, calves cramping, but you can't release his hips, can't pull back.
"There!" your voice cracks, high and desperate, nothing like the respectful tones of court or temple. This is raw. This is wanting. For the first time in centuries, he wants for something other than destruction. He wants for you. For your desire, for your voice. He feels the moment your body locks up, the moment you lose control. Your inner muscles clamp down around him with crushing force, and he hears the broken, keening cry that escapes your throat. His name spills from your lips, over and over, like a prayer, like an incantation. Like a ritual.
That very sound of his name falling from your lips in that broken state sends a jolt through his entire being. A thousand years of bloody conquest, of destroying entire nations, of murdering gods, yet none of it compares to the feeling of your voice, so utterly human in its need, claiming him.
"Cum with me, wife. I command it.”
Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing beneath him. The sound that tears from your throat is almost inhuman, a cry of pure pleasure that echoes off the chamber walls. It drags him over the edge with you. The sensation hits his entire body with violent force, something that absolutely refuses to be categorized as dominance or domination. His release floods your body, hot and thick. He snarls, teeth bared, grip loosening on your wrists. His heart like rhythm falters, his pace stutters.
For a moment, he doesn't move. He just breathes.
The world tilts. His four red eyes stare down at your flushed, gasping face. Your chest heaves, struggling for air. Your legs are still wrapped loosely around his lower back, trembling. Your hands are trapped above your head. Slowly, carefully, as if he might break you, he releases your wrists. Your arms fall limply to the bed, covered in red finger marks. He doesn't pull out immediately, not yet. He's trapped in this moment, suspended between violence and something softer, much stranger. Content. Your body melts completely, turning into soft, liquid surrender. You look absolutely wrecked. hair a messy halo against the sheets, skin flushed deeply, eyes glazed and half opened. Your legs slide down from his waist, trembling. “My king,” you gasp out. The title slides from your lips in breathless reverence, laced with the exhaustion of your pleasure. Something inside him twists. A sensation he hasn't felt since the year 246. Possession. Not of conquest, but of claiming. His hand moves to your throat, not to choke, not to threaten. To rest.
“Shall you want more?” More. The word has no meaning to an entity that has had everything. But the way you ask, it's not the begging of a slave. It sounds almost like an offer. His thumb traces lazy circles on your inner thigh, still buried inside you. "You are asking me if I want more." You flash him a lazy smile, “indeed, sukuna.” The use of his name, without title, without honorific, should be an insult punishable by death. Instead, it hangs heavy on his mind laced with an intimate familiarity that makes his blood burn. The sound of it leaving your lips gives him a far greater rush than any massacre ever has. His hand tightens around your throat, a silent warning against using his name so casually, yet he enjoys it. "Mind your tongue, wife. And yes. I want more."
“May I speak freely?”
"Speak." The command is immediate, though his tone lacks its usual lethal sharpness. His hand remains loosely wrapped around your throat, his thumb stroking your pulse point absentmindedly.
“I am very… curious. About.. the uhm.. mouth” you point down to his stomach, “May I touch it?” His entire being recoils at the request. The mouth on his abdomen is sealed, ancient, dangerous. a cursed appendage that has consumed countless sacrifices. No mortal has ever touched it, let alone * asked to. His past wives have thrown up at the sight of it. His hand tightens on your throat instinctively. Not enough to hurt, but enough to signal.
"That is not for touching."
“Hm.. does it bite?” You reach your arm down, offering your hand to the creature. "Yes." The word is growled out as a warning. His abdomen tenses as your hand inches closer to the cursed mouth. He expects it to snap, to bite down on your wrist with vicious intent, it has always been a brutal, merciless thing. The moment your fingertips brush the sealed lips, the cursed mouth snaps open with terrifying speed. Rows of sharp teeth glint in the dim light. You don't flinch, offering your hand boldly. The mouth sticks out its tongue to your fingers, tasting your skin, before it closes over your hand, not biting, but holding you. Sukuna freezes, his four eyes widening. “I believe it likes me,”
“It does not ‘like’ anything but blood.” he snaps, though there is no real heat in his voice, only profound disbelief. The creature on his stomach is refusing to maim you. Instead of tearing away at your flesh, the tongue slides wetly against your palm, almost affectionate. It holds your hand gently, the sharp teeth resting harmlessly against your skin. "That thing eats men for breakfast."
“Do you allow it to partake during these times?”
“Are you mad, woman?” In the throes of pleasure, in the aftermath of this strange, quiet intimacy.
"Never." His jaw tightens. The creature remains gentle, its tongue still pressing into your palm.
“Should you allow it to taste me?”
His body tenses. The question borders on blasphemy. "Absolutely not." His voice drops to a dangerous whisper, his hand tightening around your throat. "That thing does not taste. It consumes."
“Should you then?”
“Should I what?”His voice is deadly soft, his mind reeling. The creature on his stomach squirms impatiently, its tongue pushing harder against your palm. You're playing with fire, with ancient, deadly magic and you have no idea. "Should I let it taste you?"
“No, my king. Should you taste me.”
The room goes still. His grip on your throat eases as he leans down, his lips brushing your ear.
"Where should you want me to taste you, wife?”
You grab one of his hands, and lead it down to your heat, keeping your eyes locked onto his. “Here, have you ever?”
His hand freezes the moment it's pressed against your wet, aching core. "Never." The word comes out strained, rough. He's a conqueror of nations, a killer of gods, but he has never tasted the juice of a woman. It is shameful, and disgusting. Or so he believes. “Should you like to, my king?”
“Taste that? Why would I ever allow my mouth near that?” His hand twitches against your core, fingers curling slightly. A monster, brought to his knees by a simple question. Should he like to taste you? Should he bury his face between your thighs and drink from your source like the starving monster he is?
“I will do it before you, to show you it is not this disgusting thing I assume your mind believes it to be.” You drag your hand from atop your chest, down your stomach, to meet his at your wet slick. You cover your fingers in it, and bring it to your lips.
“You are absurd, woman. Do not eat that. It is unclean.”
His eyes track your fingers moving, your mouth wrapping around your own slick. Four pupils dilate with an intensity he hasn't felt before. The creature on his stomach whines, hungry. But he is trapped watching you taste yourself.
“Is it anything but unclean, I can assure you. Should you like some?”
"Would you-" He stops, his voice hoarse. The king of curses, reduced to stammering at the sight of your wet fingers approaching his lips. "Feed me?" His red eyes burn with hunger, but not for blood or souls, just you. Your taste. Your touch.
You bring your fingers up to his mouth, and stare into all 4 of his eyes. “Drink, husband. Taste me.” His mouth opens before he can stop himself. He takes your fingers, his tongue sweeping over them, tasting your essence. It's sweeter than any sacrifice, more intoxicating than any stolen soul.
“What do you think now?” You smile.
He stares at you, four red eyes blown wide, pupils dilating until they swallow the iris. He withdraws your fingers slowly, making a show of licking his lips to savor every last drop of your essence. The creature on his stomach growls in jealousy, snapping its teeth. "It is... unacceptable." His voice is a ragged rasp. "That something this divine exists..."
“And you assumed it unclean and disgusting. How premature of you. Quite unfortunate.”
He stiffens, your words striking. A thousand years of assuming mortals to be filthy, unclean, unworthy. And yet you, this mortal, tasted yourself so freely, offered yourself so boldly, and made it seem divine.
"I am not-" He stops, breathing hard. "I assumed nothing."
“Do not lie to your wife. It is unfair.”
“Quit that, woman.”
“Hm. Should your second mouth desire a taste as well?”
“Unthinkable. It will not happen.”
The creature on his stomach whimpers, denied.
“Hm. A shame. It has been deprived of such a beautiful taste.”
"Deprived by design." He defends, though his authority is crumbling rapidly. "It eats flesh. Souls. Monsters. It is not permitted..." He trails off, watching your fingers hover dangerously over the snapping mouth.
The creature on his stomach is practically pleading, tongue licking out frantically. You are offering divine nectar to a cursed beast. It is absolute blasphemy. "Do not."
The cursed mouth opens, teeth bared, tongue extended eagerly. You're about to feed your essence to a monster that has never tasted anything pure or clean. Sukuna's heart races with a mix of horror and forbidden excitement. "Woman, don't you dare," he growls. Your fingers continue to approach the mouth, dripping with your essence. The cursed mouth has only ever consumed filth, sorcerers, sacrifices. Never something... divine. Never something that tastes of you. "If you feed it-.”
“Let the poor thing feast.”
“You are wretched. Forgive me…”
Four massive hands yank your legs apart with terrifying force, positioning his second mouth over your dripping heat. The cursed mouth snaps shut over your glistening heat, teeth bared but not biting, just clamping down with hunger. The creature on his stomach is thrashing with pure, unadulterated joy. It’s tongue thrashing, saliva pooling, licking your wetness with a desperate, feral energy.
“You are a vile woman, wife.” He says before he pulls your face to his in a kiss that can only be described as disgusting. It’s messy, wet, and unbelievably loud. His tongue swirls around yours, exploring every inch of your mouth while his other mouth is working vigorously against your clit. Your breath shatters into a desperate cry as the cursed tongue flattens against your clit, dragging upwards with a terrifying, starving pressure. The creature groans low against your heat, the sound vibrating through your entire pelvis. It is messy, relentless, absolutely feral, licking and slurping your wetness like it is the most sacred nectar it has ever tasted.
Your thighs tremble violently, fingers curling into fabric as you try to stay grounded. You’re trying to talk but only incoherent sounds come out. The cursed tongue strokes your most sensitive spot with a cruel rhythm. It drags up your slit slowly, then snaps down, pressing its full tongue onto your core. "H-nnngh..."
“You wanted this wife, now give your mouth back to me.” He leans down instantly, crashing his mouth against yours. He kisses you with the same ferocity as the mouth between your thighs, swallowing your broken moans. The lower mouth never stops, it’s tongue lapping aggressively at your clit.
You are sandwiched between two mouths, and both are set on devouring you.
Your back arches off of the futon, legs shaking uncontrollably as the twin onslaught overwhelns your senses. The cursed mouth buries itself deeper into your clit, tongue swirling with a mind of its own, filthy and insatiable. His mouth dominates yours, tongue pushing past your lips, claiming your mouth as his property.
“I- mhph! I-I’m ! cumming, now- ah- s.. sukuna!”
The cursed mouth snaps down on your clit with perfect pressure just as you cry it out. It’s teeth grazing but not breaking skin, tongue pressing flat and vibrating against your swollen clit. He swallows your scream, kissing you deeper as the creature between your thighs drinks from your pussy like it's receiving holy water.
Your thighs clamp around his waist, useless.
“f..-fuck!! my.. my king, please!”
He watches you come undone. He is enjoying watching you become absolutely helpless between his two mouths. Your thighs quake and squeeze around his waist, but he doesn't stop, doesn’t pull away to give you a break from his second mouth. The cursed mouth keeps drinking, keeps sucking and slurping your release like it's the most precious elixir it's ever tasted. Which it is.
His name falls from your lips in a wrecked sob, back to back to back. As if it is the only name you know.. The cursed mouth does not stop its feeding, its tongue continues working rhythmically, sucking every drop of your release, swirling against your swollen clit with unfathomable greed. Sukuna groans into your mouth, his four hands gripping your thighs bruisingly tight, keeping you open, keeping you vulnerable for him. All that you can speak now, are incomprehensible words. Noises, actually. “Ngh!! hmphhh! no- no more, please, I beg!” He doesn't stop. The cursed mouth latches onto your over sensitive throbbing clit with obscene determination. The tongue rolls against the swollen nub relentlessly. You're shaking uncontrollably, tears leaking from your eyes, body convulsing through waves of pleasure.
"Useless," he growls against your lips, kissing you, engulfing your whimpers.
His four hands suddenly tighten, one hand slipping beneath you to lift your hips higher, forcing you to arch. The mouth sucks and licks with a vicious rhythm, teeth grazing your soft skin as it tries to milk another orgasm from your exhausted body. “Is it too much for you, wife? Is it not what you begged for?” He grins against his ear, licking from your earlobe down to your neck. “It’s.. ahh! I-!”
“You cannot speak can you? Unbelievable. You unravel beneath the creature you so wanted to taste you.”
The cursed mouth releases your clit with a final, wet suck that makes you whimper. He pulls back slowly, lower mouth glistening with your slick.
"Too much?" he repeats. You're drenched, in your own arousal and the creature's excess saliva pooling visibly on your thighs. Your body is still trembling from the aftershocks, your core throbbing and overly sensitive from the merciless, ancient tongue. He stares down at your ruined state. And grins as he looks at you, completely wrecked, trembling, tears staining your cheeks. His chest rises and falls heavily. You lie there, utterly spent and overwhelmed. Sukuna's eyes flicker between your face and your ruined thighs.
"Did I break you already?" He leans down, his voice low and dark with amusement. yet something like tenderness flickers in his gaze. His massive hand cups your overheated cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. “N..no... My king. You will never.”
His thumb stills on your cheek.
"Never?" he repeats, amusement coloring his tone.
“Never, husband. I am here until I am gone.” Your voice is small, and quiet. Your chest still heaving from your orgasm. His thumb presses firmly against your cheek, pushing your face into his palm possessively. "Until you're gone, hm?"
“Until you be rid of me.”
He leans down, his lips brushing your ear. "And if I never intend to?" He murmurs, his voice low and rough, yet terrifyingly sincere.
Your breath hitches in your throat, heart hammering wildly against your ribs. You stare up at him. wide eyed, overwhelmed, lips parted as the weight of his words sinks in. Have you done it? Did you truly tame him? It could not be true. It couldn’t.
"I... you.. aren’t serious," you manage, voice trembling.
"Watch me prove it." He murmurs as he leans down, kissing your forehead with shocking possessiveness. You aren't leaving. Ever. That has been made abundantly clear. You have successfully tamed him. The untamable man.
His four arms shift, pulling you against his massive form. “You will sleep now, wife. In the safety of your kings arms.”
Wk:10.8k. Do not feed my work into AI, post without creds, or steal. ignore any mistakes, it’s 7:30am and I’ve been writing this all night off of little sleep. Had to get it done!!
im dying i completely forgot this conversation i had with a friend three years ago 😭
Missing Pieces
Pairing: childhood bestfriend!sukuna x f!reader
Content: As a kid, all Sukuna ever really wanted was to be around you. He did just that for 10 years, only to spend the next 7 years wondering why you just stopped picking up the phone one day [tw: MDNI, angst/comfort/smuț, porņ with plot, friends to enemies(?) to lovers, uncle!sukuna, mentions of depression and low self esteem, sukuna's tongue is pierced, so is his 🍆, nıpple sucking, humpıng, óral (f receiving), fıngering, squırtıng, dacryphılia, matıng press] word count: 15k
Sukuna isn’t the type to hold on to promises, especially one made in elementary school. But, he never would’ve thought that you’d break it like that.
The promise? That you’d be each other's best friends until the day you died. Looking back, it might be a little dramatic, but you were eight years old— all eight year olds are dramatic.
Exactly how did you break said promise?
You ghosted him.
You fucking ghosted him.
You were friends for over a decade and the moment you went off to college, poof— gone! You stopped calling, stopped texting, deleted all your socials. It was as if you had never even existed and that you were just a figment of the man’s imagination.
Now that’s dramatic.
He’s texted and called you multiple times, no response. He’s asked mutual friends, they never got a response either. It got to a point where he had finally had it and texted your mother. You could only imagine how hurt he was when she told him you were doing just fine, and not that you were missing or in a coma.
He’d never admit it, though.
The Beach
⤿ Jason Todd x Ex! Wonder Girl! Reader
“I’m not going anywhere. Not with my life. Not with anything. I look at where I am and it’s just—circles. Same fights. Same city. Same you, same me, doing the same thing to each other every time I come home, and neither of us ever says what it is, and neither of us ever stops.” ⤿ In which Jason is breaking his own heart and yours at the same time.
Tags/CW: MDNI, 18+, smut, dry humping, clothed grinding, clothed fingering, handjob, semi-public sex, outdoor sex, sex on motorbike, cumming in pants (f&m), angst, infidelity-adjacent themes, emotional hurt/no comfort, brief injury mention, batfamily chaos. (12k words)
Bat-burger stinks of grease today. Like someone deep fried a rotting tire and then, somehow there’s even layers to it, like they also tried to cover it up with cheap cologne. And this is, unfortunately, most typical for Gotham fast food places, whether or not it may be criminal for other cities in the states.
The second the automatic doors slide open, the scent hits full force—grease, salt, old fryer oil soaked into the walls so deeply it probably lives in the building’s foundation now. Underneath it sits the sweeter smell of artificial vanilla from the milkshake machine and the sharp sting of industrial cleaner that definitely isn’t winning the fight.
The whole place buzzes under fluorescent lights and overlapping noise. Kids yell over cardboard Batman masks. Someone drops a tray near the counter. Oil crackles somewhere behind the kitchen window like steady rain.
You check the time on your phone, 7:33 pm, too early for the night to have touched the top scrapes of skyscrapers, but too late for lunch nevertheless.
You’re in no position to complain.
𓂃✍︎ 18+ mdni · pussy so good, sukuna taps in (longer version)
Loving Yūji comes with a package deal you don't necessarily know how to deal with. Granted, you've known and loved him first before this entire ordeal even happened — it still is a matter of when and never an if, per se, when it comes to his special situation.
However, that doesn't truly stop either of you from being intimate around each other. Where Yūji excels with his control against what's residing in him, it seems that the majority of that said will, if not everything, is thrown out the door the second you beg to be fucked.
And fucked real good. Or badly. Whichever way one wishes to put it.
Maybe that's partly on you, or him, or even both of your asses to blame. But, really? Can you blame yourself when Yūji looks stupidly hot all the damn time? Stupidly, massively, hot and bothered?
Especially when he wears a simple white shirt where it accentuates how broad he is everywhere, when he looks like his brain stops functioning and he's looking at you with only the thought of fucking you bone-dry, and his dick decides to run on autopilot and take him to a blissful place right between your thighs.
Yes, can you really blame anyone with how immaculate he is before you?
"So tight, baby," Yūji says between clenched teeth.
A vein appears in the middle of his forehead, contemplating whether he should start moving and ram his cock all the way in or give you a chance to adjust to his girth first.
"Ah, Yūji," you whine, "just go in. Stop teasing."
"T-Teasing? I'm not teasing, sweetheart." He manages to choke an incredulous and breathy laugh at your whining. "You think this is easy for me, too?"
You playfully slap his muscled arm. "Shut up! You know what I mean!"
"Damn, even after all that," Yūji grits. "Even after all the sex we had every night, you're still tight."
With a shuddering exhale, Yūji grinds forward, pressing himself deeper into your petaled hole until you whine and drag your nails up and down his back and coax him closer.
"Oh, yes, baby. Shit —yes, yes, — yes," he incessantly babbles. "You're sucking me in completely. I could come right here — ooohhhh,"
His lips head for yours and capture you in a heartbeat. Your nails drag to the front, then you lift his shirt to feel his toned stomach. A languid moan erupts from your throat, and Yūji relishes swallowing your sounds.
His name echoes past your lips when he breaks contact; each drawl of the consonant is like a song of reverent praise that effectively shuts him up from keeping things slow.
"You're taking me so well." He whispers. "Such a good girl you are for me."
The smell of sex and sweat permeates around the room, despite the window being cracked open. When Yūji leans down and noses his way around the hickeys he's given you littered across your body, you catch the whiff of his musky scent, and it sends you into a ripple of arousal — because why is everything he is doing to you just so fucking hot?
Everything about Yūji is too much for you. It's borderline unfair.
"Baby," you whine again, locking your legs around his waist.
"I know, I know." Yūji moans at the feeling, even when he feels your teeth teasing the crook of his neck.
It's so intoxicating; it leaves his already fogged brain even more fogged that he has to fight through your horniness to keep a steady, level pace. Otherwise, you'd probably not be walking for days, probably even resort to crawling to get to point B. Hell, that doesn't sound bad at all.
"Oh, baby, please don't do that. You know I'm sensitive there." He lightly scolds you, pulling at your hair in warning.
"But you taste so good, though."
He supposes if he's going to fuck you the way he wants to, how long he intends to, and the way you let him, then he's not going to deny you what you want to do with him, too.
In fact, if he isn't so gung-ho with you and your immaculate pussy that's still sucking him in greedily as he continues to stretch you, and if he didn't let his dick dictate his decisions, he will most definitely relish the prospect of you dominating him.
Oh, Yūji will submit. Maybe you doubt he would, given how he always wishes to be inside of you and tell you to do this or that for him. But honest to God, if you tell him to be on his hands and knees for you, he will get that shit done pronto. Put a collar on him or something — he doesn't care. Everything screams sexy and a lot of sex for him. So, who is he to refuse that?
"Harder," you find yourself begging for him, "please. Yes — yes, right there!"
Yūji's arms that are propped against both of your sides buckle before he rebalances and takes most of his weight off of you. "Shh, Fushiguro might hear you. You don't want him to hear us, don't you?"
"Then he should cover his ears!" You rebuke teasingly. "He knows better. Isn't he the smartest? He should put his brain to work. Chop, chop, Megumi!"
"S-Stop! Don't make me laugh right now." Yūji bites his lips. "I'm really horny, and I don't want to be un-horny because I'm thinking about other stuff that isn't you."
"Sorry, I'm sorry," You apologize, but it turns into a chuckle because you didn't think you'd be thinking about it, too.
"Relax for me," Yūji attempts to bring the mood back, salvaging what's left from your silly antics. "That's it, baby. Ease into me again."
Yūji's hold around your thighs changes until your legs rest upon his shoulders, and he pounds against you like an animal in heat. From your new position, his cock sinks further. Skin slaps against skin. While your breathing becomes coarse and ragged, Yūji sounds the same except for minuscule groans of pleasure now and then.
Then, he folds you in half, situates himself a little higher, and pistons his cock back into you. You don't realize you are drooling until he licks the side of your face and kisses you.
"Open your mouth." He says, and when you do, he spits twice. "Swallow."
There's a trail of saliva connecting you two when he pulls back. His eyes are transfixed heavily upon the bulge that's appeared at the base of your stomach.
"Remind me to buy a mirror next time. I want you looking at yourself like this. It's so hot, I swear." Yūji drools. "You're so good, baby. So, so, good. Oh — fuck!"
Just when he spills inside of you, and you're about to come down with your first orgasm, another voice pierces through the solidity of the room and breaks your release easily as if he had done this countless times before.
"Enchain."
Suddenly the ceiling becomes the bed sheets as you are flipped onto your hands and knees. Your muffled confusion doesn't go unheard, but other pressing matters come first. Your hair has been forcibly fisted and yanked until your head is pulled back enough to see your lover covered in tattoos, and a vitriol laugh teases the shell of your ears.
"Yū —?"
"Brat's not here," Sukuna's voice rumbles deeply against your skin.
This is the first time he's ever graced you with his presence. You have heard stories of how Sukuna would frequently pop on Yūji's cheek or his hands whenever he's got something atrocious to say (especially towards your sensei and Megumi), but not once has he ever manifested and broken through Yūji like this before — and right in the middle of fucking, too.
"Heh," he yanks you closer, forcing you to look at his hungry eyes. They look at you as if you owe him pleasure after refusing him for so long. "My vessel lost control. I want to know why."
Before you could have swung a cursed tool at him, to trap him within your cursed energy, enough to stall and ask Megumi for help or anybody else should he decline, Sukuna slams your head against the pillow and fucks you senseless.
Is it to your imagination, or did Yūji's cock grow bigger? For some reason, when Sukuna thrusts into your hole, it's fuller. He is far more brutal and ornery with his movements, too.
"Take it all like you are meant to do."
This is wrong. This is terribly, insanely wrong. Here you are in the mercy of the sadistic curse, cackling like the bastard that he is that he found something to entice himself with, and yet . . . it's wrong to feel how good you're being fucked.
Sukuna nudges your legs with his knees to spread wider for him. His hands busy themselves by mockingly kneading your ass before slapping each cheek hard.
You yelp and bite the corner of the pillow hard. Unfortunately for you, Sukuna notices. He pulls you by the hair again, and tosses everything that would muffle your voice aside. There is a buzz of mischief you can feel swirling around his energy, but you can't decipher it all too well as he shoves you down to the mattress.
"Y-Yūji —"
"My name, brat —"
"—Y-Yūji, Y-Yū—"
"— I said my name." He slaps your sloppily wet clit.
Your back arches unknowingly to the sensation, and before you think twice about it, your body yields and your mouth muddles the name, "S-Sukuna!"
"Good, little one." He mutters sadistically, inhaling the scent of pheromones pumping out from you.
His hands are everywhere that he can touch you, and even when he couldn't reach parts of your body, Sukuna merely bends you to his will and lets himself have you any way he pleases. Since the brat's been constantly denying him of you, it's only right that Sukuna gets to have fun with you now.
He fondles your breasts. He pinches your clit. Your thighs are scraped in a thin line of blood that brings him more arousal. Your asshole is gaping at each tense movement he makes out of you. His canines sink to the thin skin of your neck so deeply, he can taste your blood, fueling him into a messy plethora of moans and pleasure like he's drunk on his own aphrodisiac.
"Again." He orders.
"W-What?"
"My name. Only."
"Su-ku-na,"
"Louder. I won't tolerate what you refuse to give me. Say my name again, little one."
"Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna! Sukuna! Sukuna!"
"That's it. Keep calling my name as you come."
Your orgasm comes to you like a torrent — harsh and unforgiving. Still, Sukuna doesn't stop fucking you even as you try your best to squirm away.
When you barely manage to make him pull out of you, and you start crawling, he easily drags you back.
"Where do you think you're going, hm?" He lifts your ass and flicks your clit hard as punishment. "You do not run away from me, unless you want me to kill you."
"But, I need —"
"No."
"Sukuna, please!" You push his body away from you once more, desperately trying to get out of his strong grip. But damn, because of his strength and that it's also Yūji's body, and you know how sturdy he is, Sukuna doesn't budge. Not even a little. "Please, give me a moment."
"And what did I say?" He raises his brow questioningly.
He's fascinated by the way you react to him. When he lazily drawls his fingers around your inner thighs, you shake. When he lets his tongue graze the cup of your ass, you whine. And when he sniffs your cunt, and it smells promiscuously sour and preposterously sweaty, you sound like you're about to come again.
"N-Not there, not yet,"
"What did I say?" He challenges.
"I —" you sound close to weeping.
He pulls your hair. "What. Did. I. Say?"
"No!" You wail, moving restlessly. "You said, no!"
"You're close. I can tell."
And you are — were. You let yourself go with your orgasm. From your blurred vision, you can see the outline of Sukuna smirking at your writhing figure and how entranced he is by your submission. He taps your hips as if you have served him well, before you feel his hold around your body slackening.
There's an abrupt change between you and Sukuna. Once you've regained a better part of your vision and allow yourself to breathe better, you realize that it's because you've been flipped on your back and your legs are locked around his waist again.
"S-Sukuna?"
"No," Yūji breathlessly says. He leans his face closer until his lips brush yours. "I-It's me, baby. It's me. I'm sorry. I-I lost control. Are you hurt?"
You shake your head with a smile. "N-No, I'm fine. I'm more than fine."
"Yeah?" Yūji perks up. You feel his cock hardening by your entrance.
"Yeah, baby." You laugh dumbly. "That was . . . quite exhilarating."
Yūji presses his forehead against yours. The heat is visible in his eyes, but it is nowhere near as intense as the other pair you were forced to look at before.
"That was hot," Yūji admits. "Watching you . . . like that."
"It was," you breathe out.
There, beneath Yūji's hollowed eyes, your gaze lingers towards the triumphant gleam squinting at you in reds and blacks. It tells you exactly what is going through Sukuna's mind: that he's nowhere near finished with you yet.
You swallow dryly.
"Are you tired?" Yūji brushes your hair tenderly.
You shake your head. "I'll be fine."
"Let me fuck you next, then."
Yūji grabs your hips and plunges into you. He folds you in half, telling you to wrap your legs around his neck, and then proceeds to pound you as he promised.
"Come for me this time." He begs you. He places his hands flat on your stomach, feeling the bulge he caused. "For me. Come for me."
"Yūji — fuckfuckfuck — Yūji!" Something uncontrollable breaks out from you, and you realize a second sooner that you've squirted all over him. Your juices drip from his bare chest and down to his untrimmed bush. "I'm sorry, I —"
"Enchain."
"What the fuck, Sukuna!"
"Oh my God, Yūji, come back! Give Yūji back for the love of God!"
"Do that again. Squirt for me, little one." Sukuna growls.
"That was an accident. I — I — I didn't mean for that to happen." You admit, trying to regain proper breathing because, goddamn it, you won't be able to with this one in the front. "Just give me Yūji back!"
"Let me bring it out of you then."
It's obvious to you now that both of them have their preferences in terms of fucking you. While Yūji prefers that both of you are staring at one another and lose each other together in the art of fuckery, Sukuna does anything but.
He switches the position wherein he's lying down, and he angles you to his face. You grip the headboard for support before you realize Sukuna's hold on you is gentle yet strong. You aren't swaying, even when you feel him blow a warm bubble of air directly to your dripping mound.
Then, his hold tightens, and he buckles you down to his mouth and eats you out.
"Ah, Sukuna!" You squawk. You hear the wet squelches you make from his tongue.
"You're learning." He commends. The deep gravel of his voice vibrates past your pubic hairs and sends you a jolt of pleasure that goes straight to your spine.
And just as when you are once again teetering on the edge of another orgasm, he unexpectedly stops with a loud popping sound and watches your reaction.
You move, yet he keeps you at bay.
Of course, King of Curses be damned, when you're this high in being so aroused and utterly fucked by not one but two of them, the consequences of your actions are the least of your concerns. And not even someone who's feared by all is going to stop you.
You swat his hands that are holding you away and rock yourself against his mouth. Your hair hits his nose and grazes the top of his lips — but you hardly care. If Yūji doesn't care that you're growing your own little forest down there, surely Sukuna wouldn't either. And if he does, then that isn't your problem.
You're in a fit of moans, as you ride your pleasure away. With your palms braced against his pecs, you can feel the steady beat of his heart. It appears that Sukuna is granting you power to do as you please, as both of you know he can so easily pluck it from you like a candy from a child.
"Open yourself wider for me." He speaks quietly.
Your fingers spread your labia open. He sniffs you loudly, then he seizes your pearl between his teeth, rolls it around torturously, and licks you hard. Instinctively, you buck your hips down on him.
Sukuna pulls a few strands of your pubic hair; it's painful, but it does the trick when you finally squirt all over his face.
"Fuck! Please, I'm coming, Sukuna! SukunaSukuna!"
He slaps your ass in delight. "Good, little one."
Sukuna's control weakens again, and you realize Yūji's coming back. You laugh deliriously, because any person would be wondering what on earth is happening. Never have you thought that both of them would —
"Aw, baby," Yūji coos. "You taste so good."
"Yūji," you call out tiredly.
"Are you tired? We can stop, baby. It's okay."
"No, I want you to fuck me. Please, baby? I want you."
"I've been trying to all night, but someone just keeps —"
"Lift her, brat."
Your eyes widen when you see Sukuna smirking at you from Yūji's left cheek.
"Shut up!" Yūji slaps himself.
"She will love it. Lift her. Or I will."
Yūji growls, but obeys nonetheless. He hasn't had his own share of fill with you yet, thanks to some bastard.
He hefts you up with your back pressed securely against his chest, his arms cage you so that even if you move, squirm, or wiggle your ass against his throbbing, veiny cock, Yūji promises you within his hold that you will not be dropped.
"Fold her and raise her legs."
"Baby, I just want to ask if that's all right." He grinds himself to your ass.
"Yes! Fuck yes, Yūji! Just do it! Hurry up and fuck me already before he comes again!"
Yūji groans. He lifts both of your legs until his head is placed between them, and then his dick slides back into your entrance.
You become a sobbing mess for him.
"Did I ever tell you how glad I am that you're so flexible?" Yūji kisses your collarbone. "You're so hot, being folded like this."
In and out. In and out does the motion go. Regardless of whether you're exhausted or not, Yūji's stamina is unbecoming.
Your eyes roll back, your tongue lolls out, and all you can respond to Yūji or Sukuna or even both at this point — you don't care anymore who is fucking you — are all the jumbled slurs of their names, of you begging, of you wanting more, and more, and so much more.
"Enchain."
"Sukuna —"
"Submit to me, little one. Submit."
"I submit. I submit! I submit!"
"Heh, let that shadow brat hear you against the walls. I bet he's enjoying hearing you right now, too. My vessel is pretty turned on by what's happening. He’s not even complaining about the switch."
"Ah! Mpmh! Ah!"
"What is the matter? Where are your words?"
"Mmmh,"
"Oh? Are you enticed by the mere idea that somebody else, who is neither me nor your brat, is hearing you being fucked too good?"
"Nng — mphm — I —"
Sukuna pinches your cheeks and angles you enough to look at him.
"Speak."
"Y-Yes! I love this!"
"Well done. Rub yourself. The brat won't stop talking my fucking ear out, so do it for him. But I intend to make you come before he takes control again."
You nod numbly.
"Do not stop until you have come, you have squirted, or you have fainted. I care little what comes first or if all comes together.”
Sukuna licks the spot where he's marked you. "If you had been born in the era that I was, I would've taken you as my —"
"I-I'm coming!" You pull hard at his pink hair for support.
"Then come, little one. Come as much as you want."
For the last time tonight, Sukuna's control wanes. However, before he returns to his realm, you swear you feel the ghost of his lips caressing the side of your face like a lover he didn't mean to find.
"I got you," Yūji whispers comfortingly, "I got you. Just keep coming, baby. That's it. You're my good girl. You did so well. You're so perfect."
Yūji, with his dick still inside of you, slowly lowers you to the bed, tucks a stray strand of loose hair behind your ear, and nuzzles you comfortingly. "How are you feeling?"
"Baby," you try to speak, "too full."
After several pumps and his own release, Yūji pulls himself out from you. "I'm glad."
Cringing, you ask. "Sorry, was it . . . too weird for you?"
Scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, he admits, "I was surprised that it wasn't . . ."
"C-Can we do it again another time?"
"Baby, I thought you'd never ask." Yūji teases. "Although, maybe we need to set ground rules. Wouldn't want to complicate things, y'know."
With what's left of your energy, you manage to kiss the tip of his nose before nuzzling yourself into his warm embrace.
"We need to do laundry tomorrow. It smells."
"This is all from you, I hope you know." He pauses. "Wait, I like it. Can't I keep it for one more day?"
"Ew. No."
"Didn't hurt to ask . . ."
"Okay," you tap his arm to let you go, "gotta pee before I get an infection."
"Hmm,"
The calm silence between you two — or three — doesn't last long when someone bangs against the door angrily, and you hear Megumi's voice calling out to you and Yūji.
And Sukuna. You might as well drag him with you, too.
Megumi also must've summoned his dog because you hear a couple of growls and something scratching the bottom of the door.
"Whatever orgy you all are doing in there, take it elsewhere next time!"
"And he could've said that shit sooner?"
© ohfreshlinen — all rights reserved. do not modify, edit, steal, or plagiarize my content.
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➷ FRATKUNA NEVER NOTICED YOUR OVULATION…UNTIL YOU GET HANDSY WITH HIM IN THE POOL [FWB]
[ TAGS ] — MDNI 18+ ONLY. NSFW. fwb. piv. raw. OVULATION. needy reader. EXHIBITIONISM. creampie. PUBLIC SEX. spanking. POSSESSIVE SUKUNA. CAUGHT. spitting. slight degradation. DUMBIFICATION. slight angsttt. dacryphilia. fingering. scent kink. overstim. wc: 14.6k
sukuna knows women. he knows how to please them. how to make them moan, whine, cry. but knowing how to please a woman doesn’t mean he knows women. aka a woman’s cycle. in simple terms, sukuna has mainly grown up with men, his gramps, his brothers, toji — all he knows is a girl has a period, but he has never bothered to stay with a girl long enough to actually address her period.
well until his fuck buddy, you, open your door for him.
his arm wraps around your waist, tugging you towards his chest, lips locking with yours in moments. “Mmm,” he groans, tongue pushing past your lips, just to feel you press a hand to his chest. your lips break, air filling his lungs in disdain, eyes narrowing at you for pushing him away.
“you didn’t text me, dude,” you say, letting him pull away to drop his backbag on the floor, plastic bag in hand as he kicks his shoes off.
𓂃✍︎ 18+ mdni · pussy so good, sukuna taps in
Loving Yūji comes with a package deal you don't necessarily know how to deal with. Granted, you've loved him first before this whole ordeal even happened — it still is a matter of when and never an if, per se, when it comes to his special situation.
"So tight, baby," Yūji says between sucking his breath. He's not quite sure whether to ram and go at a harsher pace or let you adjust to his girth first. His control is being tested too much right now. "Even after all that."
You moan his name in praise before you lock your legs around his waist and pull yourself closer to him, effectively shutting him up from keeping things slow. You've always wanted things rougher, something that Yūji loves about you (but even then, he still wishes to take his time).
"Oh s-shit, baby!" Yūji would've let his eyes roll back if he wasn't focused on keeping his entire weight off of you. "F-Fuck!"
"H-Harder, Yūji," you beg him, "please."
Yūji doesn't need to be told twice. He grabs hold of your thighs roughly and pounds into you like an animal in heat. You arch your back further for more, and he gives in.
"So good, baby," Yūji drools, "so, so good. Oh my — fuck!"
Just as you are coming down with your first orgasm, another voice pierces through the solidity of the air and breaks it easily as if he had done this countless times before.
"Enchain."
Suddenly you are flipped on your hands and knees. Your hair has been forcibly fisted and yanked until your head is pulled back enough to see your lover covered in tattoos, and a vitriol laugh teases your ears.
"Y-Yū —"
"Brat's not here," Sukuna's voice deeply rumbles against your skin.
This is the first time he's ever made his presence known to you. You've heard stories of how Sukuna would pop on Yūji's cheek or his hands whenever he's got something to say (especially towards your sensei and Megumi), but not once has he ever manifested and broken through Yūji's control — and right in the middle of fucking, too.
"Heh," he yanks you further until you can see his eyes gazing heatedly at yours, "pussy so good, my own vessel lost control. Let's see if you do live up to that expectation."
Then he slams your head against the pillow and fucks you senseless. It's wrong . . . to even feel how fucking good it is to be brutally pounded.
Yet, here you are in the mercy of a sadistic curse, cackling like a bastard that he is.
Sukuna had you spread out for him, as he continues to ram his cock up inside of you. One of his hands kneads your ass mockingly before he slaps each cheek hard.
Your teeth bite into the soft fabric of the pillow, muffling your screams lest you want Megumi to hear you from the other side of the room. At this point, Sukuna slapping you might've really been a dead giveaway.
"Y-Yūji —"
"My name, brat —"
"—Y-Yūji, Y-Yū—"
"— I said my name." He slaps your sloppily wet clit.
You arch your back unknowingly to the sensation, and before you could have thought twice about it, your body yields and your mouth muddles the name, "S-Sukuna!"
"Good." He mutters darkly, "Good girl."
He fondles your breasts next. Then his tongue laps to the outline of your spine and back up to your neck, where he marks you. His canines have sunk into your skin so deeply, he can taste your blood, and that further fuels him into a mess of moans and praise as if he's drunk on an aphrodisiac.
"Again." He orders you. "My name. Only."
"Sukuna," you say. "Sukuna! Sukuna! Sukuna! F-Fuck, I —"
"That's it."
The first of your orgasms comes to you like a torrent. It's harsh and unforgiving, much like how Sukuna doesn't even stop fucking you even as you try your best to squirm away.
When you feel that he's finally slowed down, when his hands have released the hold against your body, and you allow yourself to breathe a little better, there's a sudden shift between you and the King of Curses. You realize that it's because you've been flipped back and your legs are locked around his waist again.
"S-Sukuna?"
"No," Yūji breathlessly says. He leans his face closer until his lips brush yours. "I-It's me, baby. It's me. I'm sorry. I-I lost control. Are you hurt?"
You shake your head with a smile. "N-No, I'm fine. I'm more than fine."
"Yeah?" Yūji perks up. You notice that his cock has hardened once more and he's repositioning himself to your abused cunt.
"Yeah, baby." You laugh dumbly. "That was . . . quite exhilarating."
Yūji bumps his nose against yours. The heat in his eyes is visible, but it is nowhere near as intense as the other pair you were forced to look at prior.
"That was hot," Yūji admits. "Watching you . . . like that."
"It was," you breathe out.
When you peer below Yūji's eyes, you swear you've seen the glints of red and black squinting back at you as if to tell you that he's heard about your little honesty.
Well, it really can't be helped sometimes. After all, loving Yūji does come with a deal.
"Are you tired?" Yūji brushes your hair tenderly.
You shake your head. "Not at all, baby."
"Let me fuck you next, then."
© ohfreshlinen — all rights reserved. do not modify, edit, steal, or plagiarize my content.
longer version coming soon. lmk if any of you want to be tagged! 🤍
sukuna is the master of dual stimulation ♡︎
read a/n - short drabble, dual stim, soft degrading, orgasm, part of my true form!sukuna x his favourite chubby concubine series. more here
sukuna knows exactly how to please a woman. after all, he’s over one thousand years old with two of everything.
four arms, four eyes, two mouths and two thick cocks that you can barely wrap your hands around. the man was practically built to pleasure.
that being said, he excelled in dual stimulation. tonight being a perfect example.
he has two thick fingers buried inside of your cunt as you straddle his lap, two of his other hands occupied by gripping your hips — keeping you still.
"look at this tight little cunt sucking my fingers in, such a greedy brat, aren’t you" sukuna rasps, curling his fingers further upwards, drawing a long and needy moan from you.
you try to buck your hips against his hand, ultimately failing due to his strong hold on your hips. "nmmm, kuna’… more — need it," you whine, pussy fluttering helplessly around his digits.
sukuna hums lowly, slowing his fingers enough for you to whine pathetically. "where are your manners, brat."
"please, oh — please,” you mewl, watching him smirk wickedly in response.
sukuna manifests a mouth on his hand, tongue darting out to begin flicking against your neglected clit. "pathetic little thing," he purrs, the pain of your fingernails digging into his shoulders only spurring him on.
the dual stimulation had you curling your toes against the sheets, slick coating sukuna’s wrist and fingers.
gauging your reactions, sukuna increases his efforts, warm tongue moving faster against your little nub. "you’re close," he says, watching the way your chest rises and falls rapidly.
you nod feverishly, thick thighs beginning to twitch and shake the closer you got to orgasm. "yes, ahhnnn — m’so close."
the lips on sukuna’s hand close around your clit, sucking it in repeatedly — fingers continuing to reach the deepest parts of you.
he loosens his grips on your hips, letting you chase it. "get on with it, cum."
moaning shamelessly, you tip over the edge, pussy contracting around sukuna’s fingers as you orgasm. as usual, you’re lost for words; any coherent thoughts suddenly gone.
"poor thing, going dumb on my fingers," he teases with mock sympathy. he eases you through the aftershocks, eventually slowing his movements.
you pant heavily as sukuna withdraws his fingers, tongue sinking back into the open mouth on his hand.
he brings his fingers to your mouth, sticky from your release, trailing them across your bottom lip. "open your mouth, woman."
you oblige, eyes half-lidded and lazy as you take sukuna’s fingers into your mouth, tasting yourself on them.
you’d stay like this on his lap all night if he’d let you.
a/n; let’s all collectively pretend sukuna can manifest a mouth on his hand in true form for the sake of this fic ok..
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art by dickerystuf on ig !!
accidentally walking in on trueform!sukuna ✿⋆˚࿔
mdni ✿ smut
wc 1749
“Drop these off in Master Sukuna’s chambers,” Uraume instructed, handing you a stack of dark red linens. “Place them on the low table when you walk in.”
“Okay,” you nodded as you accepted the stack of silks. You chose not to comment on the way Uraume wiped their hands on their robes after your hands briefly brushed.
“Should I knock or just walk in?”
“He shouldn’t be there right now, so just walk in. He’s attending to personal matters. If he is there, stay silent and keep your head down,” said Uraume, lips etched into a permanent half-scowl.
Although they had never said it out loud, everyone knew that Uraume put Sukuna high above everyone else, followed by themself and then all the servants.
“Of course,” you nodded again, nervous to be sent off into Sukuna’s chambers.
You, along with most of the servants, did your best to stay as far away from him as possible. Keep to yourself, stay out of the way, and do your best to get by.
You’d never even dared enter his private wing of the estate.
“And remember,” Uraume’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “No matter what you do, do not disturb him.”
You’d barely stepped out of the doorway before you heard Uraume scolding another meek servant, already moved onto the seemingly never ending to-do list they filled their days with.
Sliding the door shut behind you, you nervously made your way across the estate. The further you went, the more sparse the servants were, and you only prayed that Sukuna wasn’t there.
It wasn’t a secret that he preferred to be alone. No personal servants, besides Uraume, of course, no advisors, no concubines, not even any family.
Those who dared try to impose themselves on his life often ended up with a few less limbs than the average person.
Your footsteps seemed to echo through the silent hallway. You had finally arrived just outside his bedroom and there wasn’t another soul in sight.
Swallowing your nerves, you tilted your head downward and opened the door.
You stood still in the doorway.
Recalling Uraume’s orders, you kept your eyes trained on your feet until you were sure nobody was going to yell at you or kill you on the spot.
You finally walked two steps over to the mahogony table and quietly set down the linens.
Now what? Just leave?
The silence seemed ever consuming.
Clearly nobody was in the room, it wouldn’t hurt to take a peek, would it?
Wrong.
You lifted your head up just enough to sweep your eyes over the expanse of the room.
Large desk, large bed, and–oh, fuck.
Sukuna, right in the middle of the bed, staring at you as he held his cocks in his hands.
Two?
You couldn’t help your eyes from widening, mouth dropped open in a little ‘o’ shape as you processed what you were seeing.
Clearly, your instincts needed sharpening to allow you to just openly gape at Sukuna.
It was just so hard to look away from the way he used both of his right hands to stroke himself.
Two cocks stacked on top of each other, each one thick and dripping.
He wasn’t stopping, even with your staring, and you realize he must’ve just been waiting for you to get the hell out of there.
You must have been staring for a while, because his scoff suddenly snapped you out of your thoughts.
“Are you just going to stand there gawking?” He asked, voice low and annoyed.
“N-no! Sorry,” you quickly corrected yourself, bowing your head as you rushed to leave the room.
You turned as fast as you could, hoping he’d decide to let you keep all your limbs if you got out quick enough.
Just as you were a step away from the door, his voice called out to you.
“I didn’t say you could leave.”
That’s it. This was the end.
You paused in the doorway and hesitantly turned around, eyes once again trained on the ground.
“Did someone send you here, or did you wander in all on your own?”
You swallowed. “Uraume sent me to deliver some fabrics.”
“Look up when I’m speaking to you,” he commanded.
You lifted your head up, eyes trained on his face so as to not watch the hypnotizing way he stroked himself.
“That’s better,” he commented dryly, eyes not-so subtly looking you up and down before one corner of his mouth lifted up in a grin. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it a few moments ago.”
“I apologize, Master Sukuna,” you said, ready to get down on your knees and pray for forgiveness if you needed to. “Please forgive me. I didn’t intend to intrude.”
“Hm,” the grin disappeared to be replaced by a neutral expression you couldn’t dissect. “Come here.”
Yup. Definitely the end.
You stiffly walked across the room over to where he was sprawled out on his bed. He hadn’t let up his motions, palms dragging up and down and up and down repeatedly.
“You just couldn’t help your curiosity, could you?” He asked, eyes taking a better look at you as you stood at the edge of his bed. “Stop shaking. If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.”
As calming as the words should be, they didn’t do much to reassure you of your safety.
He rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “So fragile.”
You stood there stiffly, only looking at his face as you nervously awaited your next instructions.
He exhaled in frustration.
“You very rudely interrupted me with your staring,” he said dryly. You opened your mouth to apologize again, but he cut you off before you had the chance. “Stop. You can help me to make up for it.”
You closed your mouth.
“How?”
He said nothing, simply nodding at his lower half with his chin.
“What?” Your eyes widened, immediately understanding what he wanted your help with. “But–two!”
He raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t an issue when you were gawking earlier.”
“Um,” you were at a loss for words, simultaneously embarrassed and scared for what was to happen.
“Relax,” he huffed. “I’m not going to fuck you.”
That did nothing to help your nerves.
You couldn’t deny he was attractive. Very, if you were being honest with yourself and the nights you shamefully let your hand slip under the waistband of your pants. It’s just that the attractiveness doesn’t cancel out the intimidation and the knowledge of the crimes he’s committed.
“Then what do you want?” You dared to finally ask.
“Start by getting on the bed.”
You blinked, swallowing your pride and finally lifting yourself up on the plush mattress to sit yourself in between his massive legs.
You looked at him for directions.
“You have two hands, use them.”
Breath hitching, you reached a tentative hand out to replace the one covering the cock closest to his stomach. The hand absolutely dwarfed yours.
As you wrapped your hand around his length, you frowned as you realized it barely covered anything and one hand on each would do almost nothing.
Everything about this man was huge.
He must have sensed your thoughts, because he suddenly spoke in that low timbre.
“It doesn’t matter.” Lidded eyes looked down at you. “Do what you can. You’ll have time to learn more later.”
You didn’t dwell on the words, giving an experimental stroke to his cock, flushed red and already leaking down over your hand.
It was captivating.
"They wont bite."
You didn’t waste any time before taking the other one out of his hand and starting to work it.
You heard the amused chuckle rumble his chest above you, but it only encouraged you further.
Biting your lip, you squeezed both cocks gently as you moved your hands up and down in sync.
Every twitch in your hands let you feel every thick vein running along the shafts, both cocks curved downward.
Although you didn’t look away from the mesmerizing mess in your hand, you noticed the way his head started to tilt backwards from pleasure.
You continued to pump them together, more precum spilling onto your fingers every time your fist lifted from the thick bases up to the tips.
Not much longer later, his chest started to rise and fall in an irregular rhythm.
He was even more attractive like this, you thought, eyes back up on his face instead of the warmth in your hands.
You could tell he was keeping himself quiet on purpose. Eyes almost all the way shut, he still let out a few unsteady breaths and you clung onto those breathy sounds coming from his lips.
Everything about this was hypnotizing.
From the way his cocks sat flushed and heavy in your hands to the tattooed muscles along his torso to the way he pretended not to be affected, you took all of it in and kept the memory for safekeeping.
The warmth of him finally spilling into your hands snapped you out of your thoughts. You focused back on that, speeding up the friction on his cocks as he came on your fists.
He hissed, head thrown back against the pillow as your movements spurred him on through his release.
You had a hard time tearing your eyes away from his face, his jaw clenched until the bottom half of his eyes looked down at you.
“Good,” he decided. “Your curiosity is good for something.”
You frowned, but didn’t dare complain to the King of Curses.
“Well?” He asked after a moment, and you sat there dumbfounded and unsure what he wanted you to do. “What now?”
“Are you just going to sit there like you want a turn, or are you going to clean yourself up?”
“Sorry.” You pulled your hands away like he burned you, face heating up in embarrassment. You looked around the room for something to clean your hands with.
“Use those,” he added, pointing to the linens you originally brought in.
“I just brought these in, though. They take so long to wash.” You sighed, slipping off the bed to use one to wipe your hands with.
“You’ll have to go back to get some new ones, then,” he commented, two arms resting behind his head.
You frowned at the thought of walking all the way there and back again.
“Don’t look so sad,” he grinned, eyes shut again.
“Next time you come back, i'll return the favor.”
✿⋆˚࿔
DIVORCED TOJI AND SUKUNA X READER
You haven’t slept with anyone for such a long time, but thank God for two divorced men, who move into apartments 887 and 889!
pairings:: Toji x Reader x Sukuna
older men | threesome | age gap | smut | short fic | double penetration
A remote job had its pros and cons.
Pros? You didn’t have to commute daily and bother yourself with the rush hour at 8 a.m. You could also wake up as late as 9 a.m. and spend the first hour enjoying breakfast and the quietness of your flat. There was no need to listen to your stupid colleagues and sexist comments that your boss liked to send through the working chat. The office was always available for you to come and although sometimes you used it to meet with your favourite coworkers, working from home has always been so much easier.
flicking my bean right now omg HE HAS 4 PECS
@/percivoreart on twitter
choi3an
I miss my husband guys
