Look I know I kidnapped you and handcuffed you to this mattress in my spare room with boarded up windows and have been forcibly spoon feeding you all of your meals but please be nicer to me okay you don't have to be so mean to me
It really hurts my feelings when you call me a monster or a murderer just because of the couple corpses you found during your last escape attempt. It makes me feel terrible when you start screaming and begging for mercy whenever I come into your room late at night. Please just try to be nicer to me okay?
cw : piss, restraints, and exhibitionism. based on this request <3
Whenever Hakari is tight on cash, he knows that he can rely on you—his money maker. You are the prettiest little thing and his friends make sure he knows it, constantly commenting on how good you look, how well they'd treat you, how rough they'd fuck you if they had a chance.
He'd never let anyone have you, but he's willing to share if it means he can get something out of it too. Besides, Hakari knows that none of his friends can handle you the way he does. And that's exactly why he started this whole thing.
Late friday nights when he invites his friends over for a little gambling. They expect cards or dice on a table with some beers, only to be surprised when they go downstairs to find you.
Your wrists are handcuffed behind your back as you sit on your knees in front of a worn couch, nothing on except a cute pair of panties that Hakari picked out himself.
The rules are simple: they bet against Hakari, on what they can make you do—cum, squirt, cry, piss, tap out. It doesn't matter, as long as they don't mark you.
Tonight's victims are Yuji and Megumi, two boys who you've seen hanging around your boyfriend countless times.
Their expressions light up when they see you restrained on the floor, awaiting them. Their excitement only grows when Hakari explains the game to them.
And when Yuji nearly jumps out of his seat, ready to bet on how quickly he can make you cum around his cock, Hakari just grins and accepts the offer. Your boyfriend knows your body, and he can tell that Yuji doesn't have what it takes to make you cum before he does. Not even when he manhandles you on the floor so you're bent over in front of him, ass and pussy on display so he can eat you out from the back.
He holds you open for him while his tongue laps at your cunt hungrily, getting you so wet that you're making a mess of his face. You’re dripping so much that Yuji just can't help but fuck you now. He tries to reason that you'll cum when you feel his entire length stuffed inside you, since he knows how big he is.
But Hakari knows it'll take more than that—after all, you take his dick every night.
Yuji realizes his mistake the minute he presses into your tight pussy and your walls mold to the shape of him. He doesn't last long after that. Setting a pace so fast and harsh, your face is being smooshed into the floor while he pounds into you from behind for a whopping… three minutes.
The pink haired boy can't even be upset when he forks over the cash he owes Hakari because you felt so damn good, he'd pay double the price just to fuck you one more time.
But Megumi's been waiting patiently for his turn with his mind running in circles since he heard the words "piss" and "cry." He thinks you'd look so pretty in a mess at his feet like that.
To make things interesting, Hakari asks if they think you'll cry or piss yourself first. Of course they think that you'll pee first, because who knows how long you've been waiting down here for them. And wouldn't it be so nice if you cried after, utterly embarrassed to have done that in front of them?
Unfortunately, they underestimate just how much Hakari likes to control your bladder. Forcing you to hold it for extended periods of time until you're curled in a ball on the bed, begging him to let you go to the bathroom. So it's not a new sensation to have your andomen aching while the two boys press on your stomach and finger fuck you in a way that’s just mean, trying to coax an accident out of you.
You do so well for your boyfriend who's watching with a knowing grin on his face and a tent in his pants. Hakari couldn't be prouder of his sweet girlfriend when you finally start sobbing, glistening tears trickling down your cheeks when your bladder starts to hurt too much.
Only then do you let yourself relax, a steady stream of piss spilling from your cunt, the relief feeling like a reward for all your hard work.
Megumi and Yuji are visibly disappointed, but they should have known better—the house always wins.
cw : piss — bladder control, dom/sub dynamics, degradation, public play. based on this request <3
The air in the room feels suffocatingly hot, leading you to question if the air conditioning that is constantly on has malfunctioned. You're staring blankly up at the vent on the ceiling, as if you'll be able to see if air is flowing from it or not. The conversation around you has faded into background noise despite your responsibility to pay attention.
This meeting has been dragging on for an unnecessarily long time, you swear the clock is ticking more slowly than normal.
"Are you getting this?" Nanami's looking at you with a stern expression. So well practiced. Not a single twitch of his lips or flit of his eyes could give away the fact that there's an entire silent conversation happening between you two.
You can feel the sweat starting to bead across your upper lip as you cross one leg over the other. A glass of water sits untouched on the corner of your desk, taunting you. Your mouth is so fucking dry and the constant swallowing and licking your lips is doing nothing to help, but you can't risk taking another sip.
"Yes—" you clear your throat, "yes sir. I am."
Nanami nods once before looking away, returning his attention to his colleagues so he can continue his presentation.
He made you drink all that water this morning, acting all coy and refusing to disclose what his plans were for you later. And now you're stuck in this conference room full of men who have no idea of the pain you're in.
You had to pee before the meeting even started and it's been going on about an hour now, the ache in your bladder getting stronger by the minute. You've been begging your boss through furrowed brows and silent mouthings of his favorite word, but even 'please' won't save you today.
It makes you wonder if you did something to upset him, though nothing suggested he was in a bad mood. But really, Nanami is just like this.
It was communicated in your interview, the kinds of things he'd put you through as his new ‘secretary’. You thought you could handle him but this is new territory.
The notes you tried to take are smudged, the ink blurred from your damp hands passing over the paper.
"Sir?" Your voice wavers as your stomach cramps. You have to tense every muscle in your body to keep yourself from having an accident right here in your seat.
Silence ensues for a moment as Nanami pauses in the middle of his sentence to stare at you. The sight alone makes his cock throb. You look like you're unraveling.
Your skin is glossy and your eyes look wild, your leg won't stop bouncing under the desk. He can even see the way your chest is heaving in that blouse you chose—such a pretty one too, it's unfortunate that it's become wrinkled and wet from your nervous sweats.
"What is it?"
"May I be excused for a moment?" The sentence comes out broken and strained from the effort it's taking you to control your bladder.
"No, we're almost done here. Then you'll be free to go."
Dickhead.
And of course it's a lie. Fifteen minutes later and the meeting doesn't even seem to be close to wrapping up, all the men laughing and talking amongst themselves, straying far from the original topic. Though you can't pay them any attention because you've now got your head in your hands, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth.
You're not going to make it.
You look through your fingers and meet Nanami's piercing gaze. The intensity makes your stomach swirl and when his focus trails down to where your legs are clamped together, your situation no longer feels so bad—he makes you feel better.
You know he’s lingering, watching you closely because he's waiting.
You're relaxing under his eye before you even realize it. And then there's a distinct warmth that's spreading, starting at the apex of your thighs and trickling down. It's seeping into your clothes and onto the seat beneath you, but you can't even be bothered to care about the uncomfortable wetness when the relief feels so fucking good.
A quiet sigh slips past your lips as your eyelids flutter, and Nanami is now fully hard inside his slacks. Part of him wasn't sure if you'd actually do it—piss yourself here in the office, surrounded by your boss and coworkers.
And they don't even have a clue. Though some seem confused when you don't stand to shake their hands when the meeting concludes, they simply shrug your behavior off when you start aimlessly organizing your desk.
"You surprised me today," Nanami muses, shutting the door behind the last of his attendees. He palms at his crotch, adjusting himself as he stalks over to you. "Let me see you."
You slide back in your chair, turning to face him before gingerly spreading your legs apart. The grey fabric of your skirt is darkened with urine and although your tights are black you can feel how they're clinging to your skin.
Nanami clicks his tongue at you, shaking his head lightly. "Look at you… you made a mess of yourself, huh?"
"I know, I—I'm sorry, sir."
He leans over you with a hand on an arm of your chair, caging you in as he slips his other hand between your thighs. Prodding at you, Nanami feels the wetness of your ruined clothes beneath his fingertips, the corners of his lips quirking up before he pulls them back down.
You're squirming in your seat, avoiding his gaze as he cups your sex. His hand is warm against you, the feeling of his touch lighting a spark low in your belly which causes you to lift your hips slightly, grinding against his palm.
"You did well today." Nanami huddles in closer to you, his lips brushing against the curve of your ear and sending a shiver down your spine. His hand presses harder, rubbing up and down your clothed pussy. "Even though you're completely soiled… how disgusting."
Your breath hitches each time he slides over your clit, applying even more pressure when he notices how sensitive you already are for him. "You’re disgusting, aren't you?"
Leaning your head to the side, you give him more access to your neck and goosebumps pepper your skin when Nanami runs his tongue along the column of it.
"I am," you breathe, the words sounding more like a soft whine. "I'm disgusting I know. I'm so sorry, sir."
You feel him smile against you, but then he's pulling away. "Filthy bitch," he spits, his tone harsh before softening. "You're going to make it up to me, right?"
Nanami retracts his hand and you whimper at the loss. Lifting the limb to his nose, he inhales deeply, taking in the scent of your arousal and piss. You're watching expectantly for a reaction, curious as to what he'll think but he doesn't let on much. Instead, he brings his fingers to your lips and forces them into your mouth.
The bitter taste lands on your tongue as you swirl it around his digits, earning a low groan from your boss before he pushes them further. You gag around him when his knuckles hit your teeth.
Tugging down on your jaw, he makes you to nod for him. "Yeah… of course you will, my good girl."
im okay!!! im super tired all the time. i scroll through ur page at the end of the day and then knock out 😭😭
i was wondering, whos your favorite character to write about? doesnt have to be jjk! - icky gojo anon
this is so sweet you have no idea oh my goodness. i understand the feeling though, i am also a very sleepy girl.
i feel like my favorite character to write about is no surprise; nanami of course! however i’ve been trying my hand at others recently and i like writing for sukuna and yuji a lot! i have also started a few things for leon kennedy and john price both of whom i love in their games so!! i’m excited to delve more into that as well!!
You tell yourself you don't know why you can't let Choso go. After all this time, you can't even call what you two have "friends with benefits," because friends don't treat each other the way he treats you.
Ignoring every text and call until he's had one too many drinks or hits of a joint, then he won't leave you alone until you answer him. Usually he just sends his location, the screen blurry as he tries to make sure he's texting the right girl because not every girl is what he needs when it's late and he's fucked up.
You know that you'll be in an uber home before the sun even has a chance to rise, then it'll be radio silence until the next time Choso goes out. And still you crawl back to him every time… on your hands and knees no less.
Tonight, he lands a hard smack across your face when you take too long to sink to the floor after he lets you in his apartment. "Y’know I hate when you make me wait," he's whining like he's the one in pain.
You swear you can feel your knees aching already from the previous week when you position yourself before his feet.
"Yeah, good girl," the rare praise works just enough for you to let your guard down, yelping in surprise when he slaps you once more on each cheek, snapping your head left and right. A drunken laugh bubbles up out of his chest as he taps your face a couple more times. "Missed you tonight," he slurs, swiping his thumb along your lip.
You've done this song and dance enough times to know to open your mouth for him, allowing Choso to push the digit past your teeth. He groans when you gently suck on his thumb, twirling your tongue around it hungrily.
Fiddling with his belt, Choso makes quick work of his pants, letting them fall in a bunch around his feet. He doesn't bother to step out of them since he won't be moving far, only sitting on the edge of his bed.
His dick is just as pretty each time you see it. Never shaved, it hangs heavy in a mess of pubes that your nose is buried in all too often. The pale tip is always flushed pink and dripping by the time he pulls it out for you, anticipating the feeling of your hot mouth wrapped around it.
Because fuck, you really give the best head. Why else would he still text you every week?
With a hand gripping the base, Choso slaps his length on your face. The stiff shaft hits your cheeks, your lips, your eyes, sometimes leaving a drop of pre in its wake.
"Can't believe you let me do this shit to you," Choso sounds both disappointed and amused, his tone making your cheeks burn hotter from embarrassment than from the impact of his palm colliding with them.
The worst part is you know he's serious.
It's like half of the game is seeing if any time will ever be the last time with you. He wonders when you'll finally reach your limit and block his number. Probably not any time soon.
You're still as eager to suck his cock as the first time you hooked up. Hollowing your cheeks around him, your lips are completely sealed as you bob your head furiously. You flatten your tongue, allowing it to just glide along the underside, licking the vein that runs up it—you know he loves when you do that. His grip on the back of your head always gets tighter and he bucks his hips more roughly.
He gets meaner too.
With his words, when he slips in those sharp commands, telling you to sit still so he can just fuck your face and use you how he wants because it's all you're good for.
He likes watching the way you choke around him when he holds your head down, keeping his whole length stuffed deep inside your throat. You just get so filthy. Gagging and coughing around him, spit trickling out of your mouth and mascara running down your face. Your hands claw at his thighs but he can't tell if you're pushing him away from you or trying to drag him closer.
Eventually he yanks you off of him, allowing you a moment to catch your breath because you already know what comes next.
"Can we not tonight?" you ask but you know it's futile.
In fact, all your dumb question earns you is another hard smack to your face. The skin is stinging when Choso pulls his hand away, bringing it back to your nape.
"I'm sorry," he's not. "You know I hate doing that to you," he loves it.
He shifts to the edge of the bed, letting his legs fall open before propping a foot up. "Just be good and get me off… I'm tired tonight." His voice sounds so soft that you start to believe he really is just exhausted.
With that, he's guiding you to the apex of his thighs, nuzzling your face between the muscled limbs while he holds his cock up in his free hand. The smell of musk and sweat is strong and familiar, causing you to wet your lips again quickly before lolling your tongue out.
The slippery muscle finds its way to Choso's rim, circling the taut skin languidly as he throws his head back.
"Keep going, y'know how I like it," he groans, beginning to stroke himself. His fingers curl tightly around his dick, using your spit to glide up and down the shaft with a steady rhythm as you work him over.
He always cums so fast this way. You get him all sensitive and painfully hard with your throat, to the point where he's already teetering on the edge but it's not enough.
It used to be.
Until he found out that you’ll do all the things that other girls won’t do to him. So perfectly submissive—or maybe desperate is more accurate.
Now he won't let himself cum until he's got your mouth pressed up to his ass, your tongue sliding around his rim. Sometimes he feels it just barely dip past his entrance and he can't bite back the loud moans that follow.
You let him force you into this every week, pleasuring him however he tells you to until he reaches his climax. When he cums, it's in his hand, hot white ropes shooting out of his fist and usually landing in your hair or on your back. You've stopped asking him to aim elsewhere because he doesn't listen to you, that's not how your relationship works.
Then comes the part where Choso sends you home to end your night alone with a silicone toy pressed up to your clit. He offers a lackluster "later” when you head out, not bothering to see you out.
Funnily enough, it's always that moment when you feel most strongly that you hope he’ll still text you next time.
older!husband!nanami who lets you wait until your marriage night just like you asked. made you feel so comfortable the entire relationship because you were scared to have sex and just wanted to wait.
of course he respects that, he’s not an animal. nanami can get himself off if he so chooses. and with his age, it’s not like he has a raging sex drive—those were his words, exactly. nevermind the quickness he proposed to you with.
and then on your wedding night he brings you back home and quite literally slaps you around for a few hours because you promised him you could do it on your wedding night. he doesn’t really care about prepping you, he shoves his cock down your throat for a while though. ties you up, leaves mean marks all over your skin, ignores your cries that you don’t want it like this. you promised him, remember? and your husband takes promises very seriously.
You've been cataloguing the signs and symptoms of infidelity in your head for a while now — the late nights at work, despite his allergy to overtime; the soft floral perfume to his skin, where you lean towards deeper tones; that same sated look in his eyes that he used to get after a long night between your thighs, is now the look he comes home to you with.
He's getting it somewhere else, from someone else.
Sometimes you fantasise about slapping down the divorce papers next to his morning coffee and leaving his ass for good. You even printed them out, but promptly stuffed them into the bottom drawer of your bedside table. Because every time you think about leaving him, you think about not having him.
And he's yours. By law. You have his last name, wear his ring around your finger, are his other half to the people you meet and greet at work functions. Hell, his business partner Higuruma once commented on you two looking straight out of the dictionary, compiled under devout. Or in love. Whatever the fuck adjective he used.
What you have is good when it's good. He's a good husband, brings you home flowers and lowers himself to his knees for you without you needing to ask for it. Maybe such acts of service come from a place of guilt, but can you really bring yourself to care?
You know he loves you. He wouldn't have married you otherwise.
He wouldn't have come home today to see you dressed up in that lace he loves and taken you straight to bed if he didn't want to fuck you stupid.
So when he lays you down in the same bed you've slept side-by-side in for years now, and slowly feeds each inch of his cock into your waiting pussy, you can't help but claw for what you want most.
"Tell me you love me."
Your husband's hips falter just a little, pushing into your warmth just to slow as he meets your eyes. "Of course I do."
"I didn't ask if you do." You shift downwards on the bed, forcing him to fill you deeper. "I want you to say it. Say you love me."
Kento's eyes are soft, but wary, as he leans down and presses a kiss to your nose. "I love you." His voice is low. "I have loved you since the day I laid eyes on you. Anything else, my love?"
How honeyed. You almost roll your eyes, but his words coil in your stomach and have you tightening around him. He loves you.
You bring a hand up, caress the back of his neck, trace your fingers over a bite mark at his shoulder that you certainly didn't leave. He smells floral, and his hair was mussed when he came home, like he's had fingers through it. You wonder if he's passionate with her, whoever she is. If he gives it to her rough and mean, or slow and lovely.
You slap him across the face. Your wedding ring catches against his cheek.
His head snaps to the side at the force of your slap, cheek already reddening, though you can't tell if it's from your hand, or the blow to his pride. His jaw clenches, eyes squeeze shut for a moment as his whole body tenses on top of you. You want him to hit back.
"What was that for?" he bites, snapping his hips forward and bottoming out inside of you in response. You're stretched open on his cock, and you can't help but smile at the feeling. He completes you.
"Say it again," you gasp.
"I..." he grabs your face, pinches your cheeks between his fingers and looks you in the eyes. His brows are furrowed. "Are you feeling okay?"
This time you do roll your eyes. His feigned interest in your wellbeing is laughable, considering he was just balls-deep inside of someone else. Someone who doesn't love him like you do. You were here first.
"Come on," you plant your feet on the bed and roll your hips up, fucking yourself on your husband's cock even beneath him. "Tell me you love me, babe. Like you mean it."
"I do mean it," he grunts, finally fucking you back. His strokes are mean, not like the usual slow-and-steady sex you have. Blond hair falls into his eyes, gating the piercing gaze he has on you. "I love you."
You want to close your eyes, but you don't want to miss a second of this view. He's angry — guilty, maybe — and working your body like a stress reliever. Does he know you're aware of his wrongdoings? He's a smart man... surely he's pieced your mood together.
Maybe it's just going to be like this from now on. He'll come home and fuck you hard enough to convince the both of you that everything is okay. Maybe you'll wake up come morning and roll out of bed to call Higuruma, start an affair of your own. Maybe you'll bring him into your bed and make a mess of the sheets for Kento to find later.
You take the back of his neck in your hands and pull him down. He goes in for the kiss, thinking that's what you want, but you turn his head and lick the side of his cheek instead. Mark your territory.
You nibble at his earlobe, bathing in the way it has his cock throbbing inside of you, before you move down to his neck. You suck and bite and lick over his throat, mark him so lewdly that he won't possibly be able to hide your affections with some stolen concealer out of your makeup bag. He's going to wear your marriage on his skin, and he'll do it with the pride of a man whose wife fucks him through his infidelities.
And whoever it is that has been keeping his cock warm in your absence might run her tongue over the marks you left, but she will do so knowing that, at the end of the day, Kento comes home to you.
When he comes, it's with a loud moan and a shudder that runs through his entire body. He spills himself inside of you, right where he belongs.
But you don't let him stop. Again, you anchor your feet against the bed and fuck up against him. The squelch of his cum-covered cock socketing in and out of you again and again fills the room, as does his increasingly loud protests of overstimulation.
"Honey, honey," he grits out, but his hips still jolt into you. "Stop. It's... I'm sensitive. I'll finish you with my mouth."
"Sensitive already?" You pant. "You can usually take me for a few rounds... what, have you already come today or something?"
Something warring flashes in his eyes. Yeah.
"No," he groans, through it turns into more of a cry as you roll your hips up again and again. He could stop you if he really wanted — force your hips to still. "Course not. I just... please."
"Please what?"
His eyes meet yours. He looks almost frantic. "Stop. I don't know. Fuck."
"Come on, Kento," you moan, chasing your release. It's cresting. "Wanna milk you dry. Wanna make sure that when you stay late to fuck your mistress tomorrow, you've got nothing left to give her."
His eyes go wide. His jaw slackens, in shock or overstim you aren't sure, but the look on his face is something you've never seen him wear before. He licks his dry lips, tries to form any sort of argument in his favour, but you're so tight around him and he's still so fucking hard.
Maybe in an attempt to force his mind away from your words, he doubles down and pushes through the pain of overstimulation to crack his hips against yours. He practically splits you in half with the new depths he reaches, eyes locked onto your knowing ones as he fucks you deep and fast and panicked.
Your orgasm washes over you with more force than it has in a long time. You cry out, practically convulsing beneath him. Your thighs shake, back arches up off the bed to meet his body atop yours.
Your orgasm betrays your humility. You should never let him lay eyes on your body again, let alone chase another milking orgasm inside of you, but you do.
The apple didn't fall far from the tree when Sukuna had you. A girl version of the brooding man, you were equally as confident and attractive, though maybe even more fucked up.
It was hard to know for sure.
Sukuna never tried to hide his lack of morals from anyone, wearing the trait instead as a badge of honor. He reveled in the way others would whisper about him as they watched him out of the corner of their eye, steering their daughters away from him because they knew what he was like. Everyone saw the way he looked at you, his own daughter—lidded eyes that stared for longer than they should, shamelessly ogling what he considered to be the best parts of you.
When his friends would comment about how well you "filled out" after you grew up, he wouldn't chide them. He'd just laugh and agree.
"She's mine, course she looks good."
What people didn't see was how much you fed into his behavior. It was a secret piece of knowledge that Sukuna kept to himself, not wanting to risk it getting out to the wrong people… like your mother.
You were the only good thing that came from his union with "that woman," as he called her.
His perfect daughter that never wore pants around the house, opting instead for a pair of panties and a tank top. You were so sweet to him, bending over in the fridge to give him a nice show while he had his breakfast. Sleeping naked with the door opened so when jerked off he could get a view of your bare pussy, still slick from touching yourself—preferring his hand and the idea of his daughter over the body of his wife.
But as perfect as you are, you sure as shit know how to piss your old man off.
Veins are bulging in his hand from how hard he's gripping his phone, glaring down at the screen as he replays the video you sent him for the fifth time. Your high pitched moans are flowing from the speaker, all whiny and desperate, as whoever you're with points the camera right at the place where he's sliding inside you. The flash is on, giving Sukuna almost too good of a view of the way your virgin cunt is swallowing the boy's underwhelming length.
Slut.
That was the first word that came to his mind when he'd opened your message—"my first time :)"
"Home. Now." He'd replied curtly.
Your knees are aching from being pressed into the floorboards for so long, but they don't hurt nearly as much as your jaw which has been stretched wide for the same amount of time. Sukuna pushed you to his feet less than a minute after you walked through the door, slapping you once across the face with a single command to 'open up.'
The gags coming from where you're choking on his dick between his legs are merely a distraction as he watches the pathetic way you're getting fucked on camera.
"You could've just asked if ya wanted your daddy to fuck you like a whore," Sukuna's anger is evident in his tone and the way he presses his cock impossibly harder into the back of your throat.
Your nose is buried in his untrimmed bush, his natural musk filling your nose as you struggle to breathe. Drool is already spilling from your lips and down to his heavy balls from how long you've been forced to cockwarm the man with your little mouth.
Sukuna finally closes out of the video, opting to open his own camera now. He makes sure you're captured in the middle of the frame, the flash on as well so he can see the pretty tears in your eyes, the sweat on your skin, the way his dick is shoved between his bratty daughter's lips. "You look good like this, baby. On your knees, mouth filled with my cock," Sukuna muses. "Got you to shut up too. Might have to show Fushiguro."
Sukuna grins wickedly when he sees the way your eyes widen. You don't know what you'd do if a photo like that got out—the tell-tale tattoos around your father's thighs being particularly incriminating.
"What? Now you don't like bein' in the spotlight?" he goads, pulling you off of him until just the tip rests on your tongue. You're coughing immediately, but the second you're about to take your first real breath of air, Sukuna is thrusting back down your throat.
"Yeah, get my dick nice and wet like that—gonna regret it if you don't. Means it'll hurt more when I fuck your ass."
"Mmmfg!" is what your strangled attempt at protest sounds like. Even if you could get a word out, Sukuna wouldn't listen. You lost the right to him treating you nicely when you pulled your stupid stunt.
"You wanna go 'round whoring yourself out on camera, then you'll get fucked the way you deserve," Sukuna all but snarls at you before finally yanking you off of him for good. With one last shove, he sends you tumbling into the ground at his feet.
You hit the floor hard, your palms stinging from attempting to catch yourself. The whole time, Sukuna just stands there. With his cock in his hand, he's pumping himself slowly as he gets off on the way your naked form is sprawled out before him, trying to recuperate. "Face down, ass up, and spread yourself open f'me."
You scramble to do as he says, not daring to talk back with how stern his voice is. When you're finally presenting yourself to Sukuna how he asked, he wastes no time kneeling behind you, the head of his cock already kissing your entrance.
"Wait, dad, condom." You remember when you feel the warmth of his tip rubbing along your slit, smearing his pre into the arousal that already gathered there from him using your mouth.
"You really gonna tell your old man to wrap it up? Don't act like a fuckin' prude when I know you didn't use one with that kid."
He's right. But it's not the same, because 'that kid' isn't Sukuna. He isn't your own flesh and blood like the man behind you, slamming into your sweet cunt with a single punishing motion.
Your face rubs painfully against wood floor as you're sent forward with the force of his thrust. "Aah, fuck!" you wail, but Sukuna dismisses you immediately. The weak "Ow…" you let out after must have sounded too close to a moan for him to care.
The way your pussy feels so good around his dick almost makes Sukuna want to go easy on you, remembering how much he cares about his daugther.
Almost.
And then remembers that he's not the first person to know what your cunt feels like, and any hopes of being shown mercy from your dad melt away. He sets a pace so brutal that you're trying to crawl away from him, only for him to grab your hips tighter and pull you back. Judging by the footage of your only experience, Sukuna knows you can't handle it and that only makes him want to go harder.
You're whimpering so cutely, cheeks wet from tears and your lips from the saliva that keeps spilling from them. Everything burns. The stretch from your dad's fat cock inside your tight pussy, your already sore knees now starting to bruise, your neck stiffening as your head is bent at an uncomfortable angle. There's no plush mattress, no cushiony pillows to make you feel better as Sukuna pounds you into the floor so hard you think it might splinter into your skin.
Through it all, there's nothing you can do to prevent the lewd sounds that are slipping out of your mouth with a messy amount of drool that only makes you look even more like a pornstar. Deep down, you love this, he knows you do. You internalize all the insults that Sukuna throws your way because it makes the occasional praise he sings sound that much louder. Just as with the immense pain he's inflicting upon you, it only serves to make the pleasure that much better.
Your orgasm is building too quick for your own brain to keep up, rapidly reducing you to a puddle of moans and cries for the man that's destroying you.
"Daddy! I—ohh fuck, I'm," you mewl, eyes rolling back as your cunt starts to throb around Sukuna's girth.
"Yeah, I know," Sukuna grunts. Your hazy mind can hardly comprehend what he's doing when you feel him shifting around you. He adjusts his position with his cock inside you until your face is being trapped against the hardwood, pinned underneath Sukuna's bare foot.
The new angle is too much. No longer rutting forward into you, Sukuna is slamming down onto you, splitting you in half on his cock as he forces it unbelievably deeper inside you.
"Ohmygod, ohmygod, I can't," you sob, chest heaving as you cry harder. "Too deep, dad, wait—"
"Save it," he snaps at you. "This cunt is cryin' more than you, I know ya love getting used like the pretty slut you are. You're fucked in the head just like me."
He's not wrong. Within moments you're cumming so hard that you think you might pass out, your legs shaking uncontrollably as Sukuna finally starts to slow down.
"See? Makin' a god damn mess too." Sukuna sneers as he watches the way your pussy is starting to leak, creamy white slick coating his shaft as he slides out of you. "Your mom would be disappointed to know you turned out this way."
"Fuck off," you groan tiredly, not able to be bothered to care what your mother would think when you just had the best orgasm of your life.
Sukuna chuckles as he steps off your head, moving instead to rub his hand between your folds, gathering your slick on two fingers. You wake up more when you feel him circling the rim of your asshole, prodding at the tight entrance with every couple swipes.
"No, don't. I don't want to… not today," you try, having a feeling you wouldn't change Sukuna's mind.
He rolls his eyes, confirming your suspicions when he lazily pushes both fingers into your ass, ignoring the loud whine from you. "You say that but you don't mean it, look how well you're takin' these fingers. Can tell you want more." Sukuna slips his hand out of you before replacing them with the tip of his dick. "I know what my little girl needs."
It's almost adorable the way your asshole clenches like that would stop him from fucking it. And the way you whimper another 'dad please, don't." Pathetic.
When Sukuna presses his cock inside your tightest hole it's with an agonizing stretch. He didn't give you nearly enough prep to comfortably take someone of his size, and all of the cum and spit that's coating his monstrous length is doing nothing to ease the intrusion.
A sound halfway between a scream and a croak escapes you as you crumble under Sukuna's weight, slumping into the hard floor beneath you for the second time tonight.
"You need to loosen up, kid," he grunts, both hands spreading your cheeks apart to get a better view of his dick nudging inside your ass. The skin is taut and he can see the muscles tensing, trying to keep him out. It's causing him such difficulty that he wonders if it's even worth it as the friction starts to spread some of your pain to him.
But it's the only part of you that hasn't been corrupted yet, and he'll be damned if another man gets to it first.
"Fuck, it hurts," more tears pour from your eyes, dripping onto the ground below you. "Dad, I'm—am I bleeding?" You have to ask with the way it feels like you're being torn apart—you won't be surprised if the answer is yes.
"Nah, I'd fit inside a lot easier if you were though. Maybe you should," Sukuna muses, grinning when you writhe in his grip, trying to adjust to his size. "What, you don't want that?"
You're not even sure what you want.
You want this all to be over. You want Sukuna to leave you alone and pretend you never started this whole thing. But you also want him to make you feel good in every way that he knows how, even when it hurts and you're not sure you can take it.
Because your knees are not only bruised but now scraped from sliding roughly against the wood with each thrust you had to endure. Your throat is sore from crying and shouting and gagging on your dad's cock. And still, your pussy is so soaked that it's leaking around nothing, producing more slick as Sukuna's hips inch to yours, until you're flush together once more.
"Never felt anything this tight," Sukuna groans, his entire length now buried inside your ass. It's so warm and squeezing him perfectly, he's not sure he'll ever want to fuck anything else again. With an experimental roll of his hips, his dick feels like it's pressing all the way into your stomach, making you whimper and squirm.
The pressure is unparalleled. He's everywhere, overwhelming you from the inside out until all you can think of is him.
All you can smell is his cologne and sweat. All you can hear are his grunts and groans, the sound of his skin slapping against yours when he pulls out half way before slamming back in. And all you can feel are his fingers digging into your flesh, his girth spreading you open so wide and deep that it's dizzying.
"Play with yourself for me, baby." His voice is raspy, laced with exertion and strain from trying to hold himself together. Your body fits him much better than your mom's. "Told ya to loosen the fuck up," he lands a searing slap to your ass that makes you yelp.
You have to lean onto your shoulder in order to snake a hand under you, reaching for your clit with a weak finger. Your neck is stiff, crooked at an awkward angle, and the poor thing feeling like it's going to snap when you try to look between your legs as your fumble around. Sukuna's moving faster now, reaching a steady rhythm that only serves to throw you off as you try to touch yourself.
But eventually you find it—the right amount of pressure on that perfect spot which brings you just enough pleasure to forget all the ways in which your body feels like it's falling apart. Finally you relax just the slightest bit, allowing Sukuna to rut into you easier.
"Thaaat's it. See, feels good when you listen to your daddy."
"Mmhng," you mewl, unable to find your words. You can't bring yourself to focus on anything more than trying to breathe through your punishment until you can get rewarded with another climax.
"You let that boy fuck you here?" He already knows the answer.
"N-no," you reply, your voice shaking.
"Good," Sukuna growls. "Stupid girl. Fuckin' pissed me off today," he emphasizes the sentiment with another harsh slap to your ass. He puts all his strength into it, watching as the skin immediately starts to well up.
He knows he's broken you completely when you don't even cry out at the impact, instead your breath just catches in your throat, followed by a sniffle.
Tears and snot stain your face. Spit keeps pooling in your mouth and it seems like you're never able to swallow it all down, leaving some saliva to constantly dribble out between your lips and onto your chin.
"Need a picture of this next time, should see how well this ass is takin' my dick. Knew we'd be perfect together." Sukuna is rambling on now, lost in his own thoughts as you're lost in your second approaching orgasm. "Made these holes just for me. No one else."
Sukuna can feel the blood rushing in his ears, drowning out the rest of the room. He's teetering on the cusp of his orgasm, only holding on by a thread because he wants to bask in the feeling of you for as long as he can.
But then you're cumming again. Shuddering and gasping on the floor as your arousal seeps onto your hand, sticky and warm. Your muscles tighten up so much it makes Sukuna hiss as you clamp down around his cock and he knows he's done for.
"Should breed that pretty pussy, fill you up. You want that?" In a twisted sort of way, it's comical how quickly you panic, snapping out of your cockdrunk haze at his threat.
"No! Please no, dad, you can't," you beg him, trying to appeal to the side of him that you know loves you as his favorite and only daughter.
"You're lucky this hole feels so good," Sukuna grumbles, "fuck but you'd look so good pregnant with my kid—might even give me another girl. You don't wanna share your daddy with a sister?"
You don't. You don't want to share him with anyone. That much is clear when you feel his hips still, his balls twitching once before he's spilling inside you. It's a weird but addictive feeling when warm spurts of cum begin to coat your insides, making it easy for Sukuna to finally slide out of you.
The worst part of you wishes that your mom wasn't even in the picture. You would be fine with just Sukuna to take care of you, relying only on him and knowing that he only has you too.
"Shit, look at that," Sukuna breathes, admiring the way your gaping hole is now leaking white spend. It's thick and slow as it slides down towards your cunt.
He can't help himself when he reaches forward, gathering as much of his seed as he can onto his fingers and pushing them inside your pussy. Sukuna doesn't stop until he's reached the last knuckle, reaching as deep as he can.
"What…" you cough, the fatigue finally catching up to you as your eyelids grow heavy. "What are you doing?"
"Just couldn't waste it," Sukuna murmurs, pumping his fingers languidly in and out of you. You look so spent, your skin bruised and red, your pussy lips all puffy and sore and smothered in slick.
If you were all his, he'd make sure you looked like this everyday.
Come next morning when you wake up in your bed, your body shows the evidence of your night though red scratches and purple splotches. But you've been showered and tucked under the sheets, a testament to how gently Sukuna cleaned you up and brought you back to your room. It was confusing after he'd treated you so roughly.
Maybe he felt bad.
But then you remember the way he pushed more and more of his release into your cunt despite your tired moans of protest. And when you try to tell yourself that it will be okay because it's different than if he'd really came inside you, you remember what he said when he laid you down for bed—about how he got your mom pregnant on their first night together.
turnnoffyourmind
snowghoul
dailybridgerton
yousharknotpass
romaincrisis
2087
stormborns
