that moment when the beast inside of him takes over, and suddenly you’re faced with the ravenous and merciless side, the selfish and hungry parts that do, in fact, make up his whole—the parts that desire you carnally
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.
pairings - stepbro!sukuna x stepsis!reader
warnings - pseudo incest. stepcest. heavy dubcon/(kinda)noncon. use of big brother/little sister. manipulation. frottage.
word count - 2.8k
The first time you meet Sukuna is at a nice restaurant your parents made reservations for. Your mother is smiling at his father, Jin; both hoping that you will get along with each of his sons.
Yuji is sweet, bubbly and outgoing. Choso is kind but far more reserved and keeps to himself, except when Yuji urges him to join the conversation. And then there is Sukuna, quiet except to say comments that had the whole table falling into complete silence.
He's huge and has a menacing look across his face, eyeing you like he was measuring up how worthy you were of his time. As a third year collegiate rugby player he is a mountain of a man. tattoos streaming down his face and arms, and piercings accentuating the sharpness of his features.
Each move you make is strategic, not wanting to disappoint your mother in impressing her new beau. Everyone seems to be getting along with the exception of the broody oldest son. It doesn't help that the only chair available was seated at the end of the table, right next to Sukuna.
Your mother prompts you to tell everyone what you’re studying in college and just as you speak up a rough, warm hand lands on the middle of your thigh. Not moving or inching any higher, just claiming its place on your lap. The look Sukuna gives you is a challenge, are you going to disrupt the peace and say something, or will you stay silent and keep everyone placated?
And you do just that. You keep the conversation going despite trying to subtly remove his hand from your leg. It doesn’t work anyway, the warm palm remains in place until he decides to move it.
After testing the waters during your first time meeting, Sukuna can’t help but lay it on heavier once your families merge and move in together after the wedding. ‘Just until you’ve graduated’ is all they asked of you all, your parents wanting to live as a real family for even just one year.
Your mother had always wanted a large family and after the incident with your father this was her one chance to live out her dream. Who were you to deny that happiness you thought. Sukuna on the other hand would have told his father to fuck off and continue living on campus but the idea of such a tempting juicy peach living under the same roof was too good to pass up.
The first day of living together and he’s already grinding against your ass as he passes by you in the crowded kitchen before heading off for practice. If you showered too late at night he was standing right outside the bathroom, catching an eyeful whenever he could. Rationalizing it as a coincidence only lasted so long before you realized he was just a massive pervert.
Then you try to avoid him, leaving an hour after he heads off to campus, showering and locking your door before he gets back home, even settling for eating in your room if you had to. Tonight you pray that he’s off at some frat party with his teammates where he can bother some other poor girl.
You’re tucked in bed, scrolling aimlessly through videos until you feel exhausted enough to sleep when you hear a single sharp knock on your door. Half asleep, you don't think twice about who was on the other side. Opening it carefully, just a sliver of light from the hallway illuminates your vision, and you see him. Sukuna towers over you and wedges himself between the door frame.
“What do you want?” you ask, disappointed that it was him at your door. You should have kept it shut. You attempt to close it but his foot blocks the motion.
“Need your help.” Is all he says before pushing the door wider and walking inside your room. He turns on your desk lamp, offering the room a small amount of light.
“With wha-“ you couldn’t finish your question due to him completely removing the tight t-shirt that covered him. You just stared, stunning and unsure of what to do.
You checked your phone, it was midnight and you knew everyone else was already asleep. “What the fuck are you doing?” mustering just enough courage to whisper angrily at him.
“I have a muscle strain. You don’t want it to turn into a full injury do you?” Sukuna asks before laying across your bed, taking up nearly the whole expanse as he lays on his stomach.
You feel sick, unsure of how you’re going to get him to leave, yet not wanting to wake up your mother when you know she has work in the morning.
“So why are you here? Go to your room.”
“I want my new baby sister to help me out. Use those pretty little hands to ease my pain.”
“I'm not touching you. Get out!” you keep your voice as steady as you can manage with the lump forming in your throat.
“Come on, be the good sister your mommy wants you to be and help me out,” he waves the arm he wants attention on, “lower left shoulder. I fucked it up during a tackle.”
He has you stuck between two impossible decisions; start a rift in the harmony your mom has been wishing for, or give in to the brute on your bed.
He lets out a satisfactory chuckle as you approach the bed and stare down at his back. There is a large bruise there, it looks painful so you’re careful as your hands ghost along the tanned skin. Your eyes trace the markings of his tattoos, hypnotized by the way they curve along his developed muscles.
“What am I supposed to do?” you ask, trying to hide the nerves in your voice.
“Just massage it until the swelling goes down. If you're good, I'll return the favor.”
You let out a disgusted scoff, not trusting your speech to give him a more suitable response.
You work your fingers around the edges of his injury, listening intently for any sound of discomfort. Your back strains as you hunch over the bed to reach his left side but you don’t make any fuss, not wanting his attention brought back to you.
“You’re pretty good at this. I might have to keep you around when the season actually starts up.”
“This wasn’t even from a match?” You question before thinking better. Do not engage in conversation with him, you chide yourself.
“Hell no. This is from practice.” Sukuna turns himself over onto his back and looks at you clearly. “I’d probably have a broken tooth or a fucked up leg if this was a real match.”
You can't stop your eyes from roaming over the expanse of his chest in the low light of your bedroom, scars and bruises litter the front of him as well. “Why do it then?” you ask.
“Full tuition, room and board paid for by the college. Plus I get to break the noses of a few dickheads every week. What’s not to like?”
Just when you let your guard down and think you can have a normal conversation with him, Sukuna proves you wrong. He sits up and grabs your arm, dragging you over him onto the mattress. Within seconds you go from carefully standing away from him to completely straddling his lap.
You try to pull yourself away from him but his broad hands keep your hips in place on his lap. Each buck of your hips only serves to make him crazier. You freeze once you realize that your movements were causing a smile to break across his face.
“My clavicle hurts too. Get to work.” He punctuated with a playful but sharp smack on your ass.
You ask yourself why you’re still doing this but the way he looks at you has you pinned to the spot. His body is a work of art you regretfully notice, maybe you can just pretend it’s someone else as you get to massaging. Your hands move towards his shoulders as both a way to balance yourself and to work on the tense muscles.
You regret all of this now, wanting to go back in time and keep your door locked, wishing you had the guts to just tell your mother or Jin that you couldn’t stay in the house with his son any longer. Sukuna shamelessly stared at your tits through the v-cut camisole you wore tonight, his cock stirring underneath you.
And you bit your tongue, staying silent about the way you could feel his length pressing between your legs. The silk sleep shorts you had on did little to stop you from sensing the heavy prod of his bulge through his sweatpants.
You feel the hands on your hips tighten, fingers digging into flesh as Sukuna slides your back and forth on his lap. Each attempt to lift yourself off of him only made the movements that much more intense.
“Stop it, Sukuna.” You try to warn him despite knowing it will fall on deaf ears.
“Fuck, say my name again, baby.” He groans under his breath, eyes focused on the way your chest begins to rise and fall with each increasing breath.
“Don’t call me that,” you manage to gasp out just before one of his hands yanks your flimsy shorts and underwear to the side and makes your bare cunt grind against his hard-on.
Tears form in your eyes; a mixture of frustration, embarrassment, and the disgust at how quickly you were being affected by the bucking of his hips. He lifts a hand to wipe at your tears with his thumb before taking the digit into his mouth and savoring the salty stream running down your face.
“Baby, don’t cry. Your big brother will fix everything, just be a good girl for me, okay?”
Sukuna uses that same saliva coated thumb to press circles over your clit. You nod and throw your head back, able to do nothing except take the pleasure he’s offering, at least that’s what you have to tell yourself to stay sane.
As you get lost in the feeling of your building climax, he slips his cock out of the confines of his sweats, pulling you forward to grind on his length. You moan at the feeling of your slick meeting warm skin, taking a moment to realize what he’s just done.
Hands push on his chest for leverage, once again fighting him, but his own strong arms shift to grab the back of your thighs, keeping you trapped right where he wants you. You beg him to stop but he doesn’t listen.
“Call me big brother and I promise I won’t put my dick inside you yet.”
“No! Just stop!”
Now you have him running out of patience. Little did you know, this was Sukuna on his best behavior. You brought out something in him that he couldn’t control.
“Do it or I’ll knock on the wall until our parents walk in the room. And trust me, I’ll hold you right here,” he ruts his cock even faster against your slit, your whole body jolting with the force of his arms moving you, “and let everyone in this house get a good look at how fucked out you look on top of me right now.”
“Hnnnn-” You cry out as you clench around nothing, aching for more contact and yet wanting it to all end. “Big brother, please. I just wanna cum!”
Sukuna pulls you closer to him and his mouth sucks on your nipple through the silk of your camisole. The new angle has your clit rubbing directly along his shaft causing electric-like pulses to flow through your body.
Each nip and tug of his teeth mixed with the twitching of his cock has your head swimming. You can’t hold back the moans that slip out between your clenched jaw.
“Fuck…” Sukuna takes a moment to look down as your thighs begin to tense and shake, “you’re soaking my cock, you little slut.”
There’s no more holding back, your clit cannot take anymore of the slick friction it’s receiving. You clamp a hand over your mouth as you cry out a slew of names and insults at him while riding out your climax.
Once your hips still on their own Sukuna has you flipped onto your back, him now straddling your hips. He dips two fingers between your folds, gathering a pool of your slick to lube the rest of his cock with.
You did not get the chance to see it very well before but your eyes widen at how large and girthy his cock was. The thickness alone makes you want to run and hide. It also causes the most disgusting impulsive images of him fucking you with that big dick to run through your mind.
Sukuna positions himself between your legs, as if he was going to fuck you in missionary. One arm pressed into the mattress by your head and the other stroking his cock, all while staring into your eyes intensely.
You feel more naked under his glare now than you did on top of him with his mouth and hands roaming your body. Despite how badly you want to, you can’t look away, like you’re being frozen in place by his ruby eyes.
His face tenses, jaw ticked and brows furrowed. He grunts your name once and then you feel splatter after splatter of his cum hitting your stomach and bare pussy. The silk shorts you’re wearing are completely ruined by the stains setting in.
Your high is gone, everything turning stone cold sober. With a raised hand you unleash your anger onto his cheek. The slap was louder than you intended but not harsh enough to wipe the satisfaction off his face. He grabbed you by the back of your head, pulling your faces closer before claiming your lips. His tongue invades your mouth as you try to kick and push him away.
“You’re gonna be a good baby sister right? I’m not gonna have to show your mom that stash of weed you have in your drawers, will I?” Sukuna coos at you despite the severe threat laying underneath the sweet voice he used for you.
He’s been in your room? Of course he has. It’s no wonder the lock on your door sticks and sometimes doesn’t work at all. Sukuna had probably been picking the lock since you first moved in together. But the last thing you needed was her to hear about the weed you have. The first time she caught you smoking she nearly called the cops on you.
“What’s your problem? Why me? Why are you doing this to me?” You plead.
Sukuna gathers a stream of his cum between his fingers, smearing his spend between your folds, amused by the tempestuous expression you gave as he mixed your releases together
“Because I can. Because I want to. Because I want something that’s only mine.” He says all of this so flippantly, as if his harassment against you was destined fate. “You’re my type, you know that? Pretty eyes, cute face, smart as hell, secretly kinky.”
Your brows crease in confusion, “you know nothing about me. You’re fucking delusional.”
Sukuna finally removes himself from on top of you, putting his softened but still too large of a cock back inside his underwear. He’s half way across the threshold of your room, ready to finally leave you alone before he turns back casually.
“You know, baby sister,” he enjoys the way you cringe at that name, “your laptop and phone sync your history and logins. The shit you’ve been watching on there makes me look like a saint.”
“Leave me the fuck alone!”
“Maybe that’s what we’ll do later. I’ll show you my collection and you show me just what makes that pretty pussy of yours so wet. Maybe your big brother will let you try some of it out with him.”
He’s taunting you and it’s working. You hate how your cheeks flush and your eyes gloss over as his deep voice hits you in ways that make you want to die.
“That’s no amateur shit you're watching. Cages, rope, anal, fucking piss and spitting. Yeah, you’re my dream girl.”
You throw a pillow at him, wishing it was a brick instead, but he simply dodges it anyway and leaves you for the night. Now you have to find a way to get some sleep despite the cold cum drying on your skin and the knowledge that his threats are making your cunt throb in anticipation.
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.
Most nights, Gojo fantasises about doing horrible things to you.
He tries to fight it — really, he does — but it's gotten bad lately. Used to be he couldn't sleep without jerking off to the thought of you, down on your knees as you throat his cock. He'd let himself imagine some rope around your wrists, maybe a collar around your neck, but it was all mainstream BDSM shit. Taboo, maybe, but excusable.
But then he started wondering how you'd fight back, were he to push you too far. If he forced his cock deep enough into your mouth and pissed down your throat just to feel it tighten as you gag and splutter. Would you pull away, spit it onto the floor beneath your bruised knees? The subsequent image of him forcing you face-down into whatever mess you make, like a dog being taught not to piss on the floor, fuels his nightly fantasies for a week.
He falls down a rabbit hole of depraved thoughts. What he used to be unable to sleep without, he now can't even cum without. Every time he fucks his fist, the scene in his head gets worse. You're dehumanised and objectified worse and worse with each chase of release.
He knows he's horrible for it. He doesn't deserve you, and he's fucking sick for fantasising about turning such a pretty thing into a sleeve to use and reuse. But he's good at reasoning, coming up with ways to excuse these bad thoughts of his.
Like, he might've been masturbating to the thought of breaking into your house at night and jerking off into the crotch of whatever panties you had laid out to wear the next day. But it was just a fantasy, and the key he had cut for your front door had gone untouched on his desk for weeks. That was so good of him!
And when he finally gave in and let himself into your home in the dead of night, at least that was all he did. Sure, he stood at the end of your bed with your panties in one hand and his cock in the other. And he came twice, once into your underwear and another onto the sheets you sleep in. But he only fantasised about smothering you with that soft pillow you rest your head on, taking you home with him to keep safe and locked up in a dog crate.
And okay, he went through with it on his third visit, but he exercised restraint up until then. Plus, he's only doing what's best for you now.
And he hasn't touched you like that since bringing you home. You haven't looked at him, or spoken to him outside of begging to be set free, and he hasn't even pulled you out and fucked your ass for being so ungrateful. He's being so good.
So good, in fact, that when he stands just outside the bars of your crate, stroking his cock frantically and babbling on about how much he loves his pretty little pet, he only goes as far as shooting his load all over your face from outside. He doesn't reach in and pull you out for what he's been slowly building up to.
kianamaiart
pixelskylines
2087
snowghoul
