Slamming into him as deep and hard as I can over and over again, not really caring if it hurts.
"I bet he stretched you out real good, huh? Is that why you're taking it so well? Do I gotta fuckin' break you? Come on tell me how you did it. Did you ride him like a greedy little pup or did he pin you down and make you take it?"
He looks pretty out of it, opening his mouth to answer but every thrust makes him let out a punched out whimper instead. It doesn't help that my hand has made its way to his throat, squeezing lightly.
"God fuck. Your cunt is squeezing me- ha- so good. You're one cock hungry fucking mutt. Can you even control it or will you be a good little bitch to anyone with a pulse? Answer."
I don't even realise he's crying with how worked up I am. He seems to have given up on speaking, just whining like the good cocksleeve he is.
context: he interacted with another dude and I wasn't there probably
[nsfw] thinking of a loser! yandere and a popular girl reader.
he hated you.
the way you fluttered around the classroom with such a pride about you. the cute little stationary in your pencil case that you seemed to hold so dear, the way you always signed your name off with a heart. it irritated him to no bounds.
he’d love to see you cry.
to see if you’d still look pretty, tears and eyeliner running from your eyes. he wonders if you’d scream at the feeling of him claiming you, the touch of a blade running across your wrists and leaving you with messy scars.
do you even remember his name? you’ve smiled at him once, tried to hold a conversation with him because you’re just that friendly. you took his hatred as a joke between friends but he later caught you giving him a side eye as you chattered amongst your friends.
you didn’t like him, and he despised how polite you were about it.
he wanted you to let loose. to glare at him with your lips curled, to beat at his chest whilst he stared down at you. it’d make him so excited, watching you bash your hands against him all whilst he became aroused.
and then you’d hate fuck. you’d tell him curses as he made you come undone, and grip his hair whilst you bounced on his dick. the whole time he’d tell you about how useless he was, all whilst he moaned and threw his head back.
day 14. |Kinktober Masterlist| - hate sex
Summary: You return to Rafe’s house to collect your belongings, determined to leave the past behind, but old resentments and unfinished feelings flare as soon as you see him.
Pairing: exbf!rafe x reader
Tags/cw: angry/hate sex, wall sex, creampie, light choking, possessiveness, toxic language/dynamics
The gravel crunched under your tires as you pulled up to Rafe's house. Even now, after everything, the sight of the place twisted your stomach. Too many memories; laughter on the back patio, his arm heavy across your shoulders at night, whispered promises he’d never keep.
You weren’t here for nostalgia. You were here for your things. The front door was already open when you walked up, and there he was, leaning against the frame like he’d been waiting. Rafe looked the same as always, white tee stretched across his chest, jaw tight, eyes sharp and unreadable. “You could’ve called,” he said flatly.
You rolled your eyes, stepping past him into the house. “I don’t need to call to pick up my stuff.”
His laugh was humorless. “Guess not. Thought you were done with this place, though. Done with me.”
Your chest tightened, but you ignored it, heading straight for the stairs. “I am.”
Rafe followed you, of course. He never knew when to back off. “Sure doesn’t look like it. You’re back here, aren’t you?”
You whirled around on the landing, glaring at him. “Don’t start. I just want my things, Rafe. That’s it.”
“Right.” His lips twisted into a smirk, but his eyes were anything but amused. “Just your things. That’s all it ever was with you, huh? Take what you want, then leave.”
The words cut deeper than you wanted them to. Your voice cracked, sharper now. “That’s rich, coming from you. You pushed me away every chance you got, and now you want to act like I’m the one who ruined it?”
His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking. For a long moment, the two of you just stared, the air buzzing with all the words you’d never said, all the ones you were too afraid to. And then, like always, the tension snapped. Rafe closed the space between you, his hand gripping the railing. “You think I don’t want you?” His voice was low, dangerous. “You think I ever stopped?”
Your chest heaved, anger and something darker twisting in your gut. “Don’t-” But then his mouth was on yours. Rough, desperate, the kind of kiss that felt like a fight in itself. You shoved at his chest, nails dragging across his shirt, but he only pressed harder, the railing digging into your back.
“God, I hate you,” you muttered against his lips.
“Yeah?” His breath was hot against your mouth. “Then why do you sound like you’re begging me to touch you?”
The worst part was that he was right. The ache between your thighs betrayed you, the way your body leaned into his despite everything. It was messy and wrong, but you couldn’t stop. Not when his hands were already on your hips, dragging you flush against him like he’d never let you go again.
You should’ve walked away. But instead, you kissed him back, teeth clashing, both of you taking out every leftover piece of hurt and anger on each other. Hate and want blurred together until you couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
“Fuck, you drive me crazy,” he growled, spinning you around and shoving you against the wall, your palms bracing against the cool surface.
His hands were everywhere, tugging your pants down, leaving you bare and exposed. You heard the clink of his belt, the rustle of fabric, and then he was behind you, his breath ragged.
“You don’t get to walk away and act like I’m nothing,” he said, voice thick with anger and lust, his fingers digging into your hips. “You’re mine, whether you admit it or not.” He didn’t wait for a response, thrusting into you hard, filling you in one brutal stroke. You cried out, the stretch intense, a mix of pain and pleasure that made your head spin.
“Rafe!” you gasped, hands flat against the wall as he set a punishing pace, each thrust slamming you forward, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the empty hallway. It was raw, angry, every movement fueled by the resentment and want you’d both buried for too long.
“Say you hate me again,” he snarled, one hand sliding up to grip your throat, not choking but holding you there, keeping you pinned. “Go on.”
“I hate you,” you spat, but it came out as a moan, your body betraying you as you pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts. He laughed, dark and bitter, his grip tightening as he fucked you harder, deeper, like he was trying to carve himself into you.
“Liar,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, his other hand slipping between your legs to rub your clit, fast and relentless. “You fucking love this. Love me.” The pleasure was overwhelming, building too fast, your body trembling as the anger melted into something hotter, more desperate.
You came with a broken cry, your walls clenching around him, your body shaking as he kept going, not slowing for a second. “Fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, his thrusts growing erratic, his fingers bruising your hips. He followed right after, spilling inside you with a low, guttural sound, his body pressed so close you could feel his heartbeat against your back.
For a moment, neither of you moved, panting, the weight of what just happened settling in. He pulled out slowly, turning you to face him. His eyes were still sharp, but there was something softer there now, something raw.
“Still hate me?” he asked, voice low, almost daring you to lie again.
You swallowed, your throat dry, your body still buzzing. “Yeah,” you said, but the word lacked venom, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Liar,” he repeated, softer this time, before kissing you again, slow and deep, like he was trying to rewrite every fight you’d ever had.
Lyonel Baratheon hate smut? If not do you have any recs
Notes: Hi anon! Hate smut? Okay. I tried : D It's first that explicit smut I've written. Thank you @hivemuthur for your help with dirty talk and ideas <3
Warnings: p in v raw, mentions of bj, Lyonel hates that you don't love him back, hate fuck.
Word count: 1,7k
_
It wasn’t supposed to be like that.
He had wed out of obligation, correct. A logical and beneficial solution, perhaps. Lyonel was a man of his word after all, and when the opportunity presented itself, he decided — why the fuck not?
He was offered the last daughter, the unruly one, which in all honesty was what he found most enticing about the whole match. It was meant to be a slight to him, the worst bargain they could give, but he liked a good challenge. And what a challenge it was.
To take what your father handed him in exchange for alliance and cherish it instead. To make you into something rare, a jewel rather than a burden, so your shite of a father would have to shove his arm up his own arse and wave at Lyonel through his mouth.
He saw you first — younger than him, of course, but past the usual wedding age. A grown woman, with opinions of her own — which he would learn all about very soon.
And he… loved that.
Actually, scratch that. He loved you.
At least at first, he saw you the way he saw Dunk — an interesting trinket. An unusual agglomeration of traits that did not come often, something that scratched the itch of boredom in a man who had always gotten everything he wanted. He took you under his wing, under his protection, and took his time unwrapping you, kindly and patiently.
That very first night, he gave you a choice — to wait, to get to know him first.
But you surprised him yet again, asking him questions about how he grew up, what food he liked, what music he listened to — all while riding him until the only answers he had left came in sounds, not words.
He might have fallen for you then.
Or maybe later, when he showered you in gifts, and you showered him with your thoughts about the world. Your sharp mind, your curious disposition it all amused him oh so much
Yes. That was when he knew he had fallen.
He had told you as much, not directly, but in every way around it. There was no way someone as bright as you could miss it. You seemed to enjoy his company well enough. If not him, then at least his cock.
He noticed, though, that even if your body fell over that edge, willingly and frequently, your heart never followed. It stayed planted firmly inside a fortress he had no access to, no matter what he threw your way. Feasts. Musicians. Dresses of finer silk. Exotic animals.
You were always kind. Always thankful and happy, but never — not once — in love.
And then, because he was not only a man of his word but also a smart man, a perceptive man, he noticed you slipping away. When the novelty wore off, when the pleasures he gave you were nothing new to your body, your mind began to wander.
You had finally fallen.
Just not for him.
And of all the people you could have given your heart to, you chose cruel. You chose Dunk.
His Dunk. His best friend. The lunk, the giant with the golden heart and arms like logs, twice — no, thrice — the size of Lyonel himself.
A sure way to make a man feel small.
He was surely better than him. He had a title (one he gave you). He had a castle (one he shared with you). He had a coin (that he spent on you). And yet you chose a penniless hedge knight? A knight he had fed, protected, raised higher than he had ever been meant to stand.
A knight he had dressed in better cloth than most men of his birth would ever wear. Just like he did with you. And even if he loved the giant like a brother, he was not below hating him like a brother too. You surely didn’t understand how much it twisted him.
He was always told he was more than enough. Even too much.
Why wasn’t he so for you?
Was it his strength?
Did you dream of being thrown over a shoulder and manhandled to the bedchambers? Or was it his cock that was not cutting it for you anymore? Many people would disagree with that.
He saw you today, on the stairs leading up to the tower where the library was — passing a note to him. What did you talk to him about? Why did your hand touch his chest in such a gentle manner?
“Answer me, wife.”
Lyonel’s grip on your hips tightened as he thrust into you. The desk creaked under the force of his movement, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. He tangled his fingers in your hair and yanked, pulling you flush against his clothed chest. He hadn’t even bothered to undress properly, bending you over only moments after he called for you.
His breath was heavy and ragged, smelling of ale, filling your ear, as his cock filled you over and over again.
If anyone were to walk inside now, they would see exactly how he had taken you. And you were so, so wet for him. For him.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, love? Is that what you wanted?” He slammed forward making you squeal. “To be handled roughly, hmm?” His voice broke slightly at that, his own ears filled with the rush of blood — whether from anger or sex, it was all the same now. Were you thinking of Dunk as he took you? Were your eyes closed in pleasure, or in search of fantasy?
He pulled all out, then slammed back in with a force. Each thrust knocked the air from your lungs, leaving you breathing in strained gasps. Your skirt was hitched up, your bodice half-torn from the haste with which he had dragged you to the desk, tits bouncing with each push of his hips. His pace was punishing, drilling into your dripping cunt, making obscene sounds echo over the small office.
“Listen to that noise. That’s the sound of your husband fucking you, not some pretty boy knight.”
He muffled his own moans in your shoulder, his hand covering your ear so you wouldn’t hear how much he ached for you. “…fuck. Fuck,” he hissed through gritted teeth as he pulled one of your legs up to thrust deeper. He knew that worked for you before. Many times before.
You were close, so, so close, but he refused to touch you. He only held you under your chest with his other arm, gripping and pinching you meanly, drawing more pain than pleasure. All his usual sweet sounds were silenced, all the soft-spoken promises, all the endearing titles now tinted with venom. He played with you just to push you close to the edge and stop again.
Fast, then slow again, dragging his thick length out to the tip, then back in, hitting that spot that made you moan out his name. Yes. Like that. He would remind you exactly who you were married to.
“Look at you—”
You could feel every vein as he slowly pulled out, then filled you in again, stretching you to the brim. “ —dreaming of giant’s cock and you can barely take mine”
“What…?”
“Lady of my heart,” Lyonel seethed through clenched teeth. There was no sweetness behind those words.
“What do you—”
“Love.” He interrupted you again. Your leg fell back onto the desk when he released it, only to move his hand up to your throat and press. Not enough to hurt you, no — but enough to show you he was serious. When you gasped, his hand moved again, his rough palm covering your soft lips, silencing you before you could say anything else.
He could feel how close you were, the way you clenched around him.
Lyonel slowed his movements, only to lean closer and whisper in your ear:
“You are going to come on on my cock, like a good girl, and then I’m going to fill you up.”
The arm holding you up let you go, and you slumped forward onto the desk, limp and lightheaded. He reached between you, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in small circles, as he fucked you.
Your body was tight, so tight around him, so flushed, so red and lovely. He could feel your mind resisting, even as your body sang for him. And Lyonel fucking loved music. Especially the kind you made with your mouth.
You pretty little mouth, that he fucked many times before. Came inside too, watching you swallow it all, trusting and open for him. For him, not for Dunk.
Then why the fuck were you not loving him back?
“Don’t hold back, flower. Let everyone hear how good I make you feel.” His voice was demanding, his eyes darting to the doors, where he must have been waiting already. He had made sure to time everything perfectly, but you wouldn’t know that — not yet.
He knew how to play your body, even if your heart was locked to him. Hitting that spot as he played with your clit, till you clamped down on his cock, as you came undone. A loud cry escaped your lips, and he snickered as he fucked you through your orgasm to prolong it.
With a final thrust he came, pumping his hot seed deep inside of you. He slumped over you, his own pleasure muffled in your dress. He continued to thrust slowly, making sure every last drop stayed. He would have you dripping with him when you walk out of here.
Lyonel pulled out fast, catching his breath. He watched himself leaking out of you, your lips swollen and red, and he reached to catch a tear that ran down your thigh. He brought it up to your mouth.
“Suck.”
You did. Your tongue darted out, cleaning the evidence of your lovemaking while looking straight at him, eyes watery and completely fucked out.
“Good.” He straightened your skirt, not giving you the time or the means to clean yourself up properly.
“Now get out of my sight.”
“But—”
“Get. Out.”
Lyonel was serious when the situation called for it. And now he was deadly serious. You fixed your bodice as well as you could and scurried to the doors, deciding to wait out your husband’s anger before trying to speak to him again.
When you opened the doors, instead of an empty corridor, a man stood outside, his face unreadable but flushed red all over.
SYNOPSIS ᯓ You were always meant to be nothing. A servant, a shadow in the grand halls, another soul swallowed by his world. And yet, he sees you. Knows you better than you want to be known. When you stop running, was it ever a chase at all?
PAIRING ᯓ trueform! Sukuna x fem! reader
WARNINGS ᯓ fem! reader, throat fucking, Sukuna is murderous, choking (barely), oral (m + f receiving), two cocks (one hole), second mouth, he's lowkey down bad for you, stomach bulge, he cries, choking on it, he wants everyone to hear you, you're lowkey jealous because he fucks you so well.
WORD COUNT ᯓ 3.4k
SERIES ᯓ GOJO ⋮ GETO ⋮ CHOSO ⋮ SUKUNA
No time for anything but duty.
Dawn was yet to break when you stirred from your thin, pearl white bedding, the distant toll of a gong signaled the start of another day to service the King of Curses. Frigid air coming from your open window causing goosebumps to kiss your skin, fingers stiff while you pushed upward to swing your feet off the bed.
The grand hall awaited.
Moving quickly through the dim corridors, your footsteps slapped against the stone. Other servants were bouncy, murmuring among themselves as they hurried to their own tasks. For some reason, Sukuna preferred you. That fact alone ensured you were allowed no leisure, no freedom, no pleasure.
The grand hall was vast, towering pillars with gilded braziers. It was your responsibility to rekindle them, to sweep away the remnants from last night’s indulgences. Scattered bones, wine stains, the destruction Sukuna left wherever he went. You worked in silence, sweeping, scrubbing, making sure to leave not a trace of mess before he entered.
By midday, your monotonous duties led you to Sukuna’s chambers. A cavernous space lined with dark silks and the ever-present scent of blood. You moved with your usual practiced efficiency, wiping down the lacquered surfaces and straightening furnishings. All while listening, there was always something to hear.
Today it was Uraume’s voice, calm and collected.
“They begged for mercy.”
Sukuna chuckled, low and amused. “Did they?”
“You slew them anyway.”
“Their supplications did but offend me,” he spoke, tone laced with disdain, waving his hand dismissively. “To levy demands upon one such as I… how unworthy the breath spent.”
Uraume didn’t argue. They never did. No one did.
It was always like this, he destroyed for no reason. No one dared to question it.
A heavy presence filled the room as you straightened the last piece of furniture. A kind of presence that made the hairs along your arms raise before you turned. You knew what was about to happen.
“You are slow today.”
His voice was smooth. You kept your eyes down, focusing on the task at hand.
“I am thorough,” you corrected, wringing the cloth in your hands over the soapy water bucket.
“Hm.”
A single sound. You’ve been here long enough to hear his smirk.
You swallowed the sharp retort that rested on your taste buds and moved toward the door when you finished your last task. Before you could reach it—
“Woman.”
You stopped, not by choice but because it was a command. Even if it wasn’t meant to be.
“Do you find my chambers displeasing?”
You blinked once, face expressionless. “I find them filthy.”
Another pause, then a laugh. Though not cruel, but entertained.
“Good.”
He merely watched as you turned on your heel and left.
You hated him.
You hated everything about him.
His arrogance, his amusement of suffering, the way he looked at you as though he were waiting for something, like one day you might offer him more than disdain.
You hated being here at all. That all your life was to serve him. Losing all purpose and reduced to serving a homicidal monster who thought himself a god.
And yet, he preferred you. That was the worst part.
He would never let you be. That's why you were the only servant allowed to perform duties inside his personal chambers. It made you wonder why you were always given the task of cleaning up after him, it was like he wanted you to see what he did.
It had been weeks of the same grueling routine of your new schedule, of enduring his presence and feeling the unwieldy weight of his gaze even when you weren’t looking. You should have expected it, that sooner or later he would grow tired of the silent treatment.
Your summons came at dusk. One of the lesser servants palpitating as they spoke.
The lord has requested you.
His chamber was dimly lit, braziers casting shadows against the silk-draped walls. Sukuna was reclined, one arm against the curve edged atop his throne.
“Woman.”
You stopped a few paces before him, reluctantly bowing to the floor.
“Lord.” The word seared your tongue, burning like embers from a growing flame.
A slow smirk grew on his lips. “How obedient.”
He studied you for a moment, tilting his head and squinting his eyes. Exhaling through his nose like he was disappointed, “you hate me.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Is it amusing to state the obvious, my lord?”
He chuckled, “I find amusement in many things.” A pause, then quieter, more deliberate, “you, most of all.”
Your fingers twitched, brows furrowing slightly as your eyes narrowed. “Then find new entertainment.”
His smirk widened. More certainty than mockery from before.
“You loathe me,” he mused. “And yet, here you stand. When I call, you come.”
“I am a servant.”
“A servant whose words do not wane. And yet, you do not leave.”
You swallowed, no response to give. Truth is you took up being a servant for added protection and the free rent. Beforehand, you had been struggling to make ends meet for years. Now, you are one of the longest lasting servants Sukuna had the pleasure of employing. You could leave, sure, at the expense of your life. But you already gave your life up to serve him. It was this or death.
Sukuna leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Is it duty that keeps you here?” His eyes flickered, “or something else?”
Your breath caught halfway down your throat.
There it was, the shift. The shift you refused to acknowledge, the one he stoically waited for you to realize.
The thing is, he didn’t demand it. He didn’t ask. He simply made it inevitable.
And you hated him for it.
The silence between you stretched. You should have scoffed and turned on your heel already, leaving without another word. But here you were, feet remaining on the polished floor, fingers gripping the inside of your sleeves.
Sukuna only watched, an unreadable expression you’ve grown to detest. He had no smug grin, no sharp amusement. Only patience. He was waiting like he always did.
Your jaw clenched while your eyes darted to the floor. “You are mistaken if you think—”
He shifted and rose to his feet in one shift motion. The space between you disappeared too quickly. His presence was overwhelming, looming over him the thousands of innocent lives taken for the sake of amusement. Entertainment. One clawed finger reached forward, catching the edge of your chin and tilting your face upward.
“Am I?”
His voice was low, deep. Something sent heat crawling through your blood vessels, blaze threatening to set your skin on fire.
“You assume much,” you bit out. Resisting the instinct to pull away, resisting the urge every cell in your body was screaming at you for to pull away. After all, he would win if you did.
“I assume nothing.” His thumb brushed the curve of your jaw, cocking his head back to truly look down at you. “I see.”
Your breath was uneven, rage and something else twisting in your chest creating the perfect mixture of rage, uneasiness, desire? “And what is it you think you see?”
A deliberate smile spread across his face slowly.
“A human who does not flinch.” His fingers traced lower, skimming your throat before resting his fingers around the back of your neck and thumb resting lightly in the curve between your collarbones.
“A human who has spent years writhing over a hatred that wavers.”
“No.” You answered, “you’re wrong.”
He hummed, stepping back and releasing the hold around you. Giving you just enough space to breathe, but not enough space to release you from the metaphorical tether he tied, binding you both together.
“Perhaps,” he pondered. “Or perhaps you are afraid of what hatred becomes when it festers too long.”
There was an invitation, a challenge in his tone. Something else entirely different from the usual amuse present in his gaze.
You should leave.
Walk away.
Turn and never come back.
But you didn’t.
That was all the answer he needed.
The worst part was he never saw you as weak, he didn’t dismiss you like he did other servants. He knew you would kneel before him willingly so there was no point in asking. Instead, he lured, pulled, and twisted until you were the one standing too close.
He leaned in, breath ghosting over your ear and down your neck. “Tell me, human,” he murmured. “If your hate is so pure, why is it that you linger?”
You could only shake your head, will your heart to stop its swift pace.
Moments of silence pass, Sukuna feeling you through his eyes, arms crossed across his chest while you kept your gaze low and head slightly bowed.
“What is it that you want?”
He smiled, slow and knowing. “Ah,” he said, tilting his head and bringing his hand up to his chin as if he was in great contemplation. “Finally, the right question.”
“You know what I want,” he continued, his voice nothing over a small rumble. “The real question is, what is it that you seek?”
Your breath stilled, he was doing it again.
Twisting, digging, forcing you to see something you didn’t want to acknowledge.
You hated him.
And yet—you wanted him.
He hummed and walked away, turning around half way to curl his finger at you, petitioning you to follow. You did just that, unsure of how this all happened. How had you got here in the first place? Your own feet brought you here, yet you barely remember the journey. Here you remain, following your lord where his bed lay.
It’s then that he grabbed your body whole, whipping you around to face him while he sat on his bed as you stood between his legs.
“Well?” He began after moments of stillness and silence. “On your knees.” While he gripped the crown of your head and pushed you to the floor.
You didn’t resist. In fact, you obliged without hesitation.
You skillfully opened his robe to reveal his rock hard length. Holding back a gasp at the sight before you—two cocks. Nimbly gripping both with each hand, choking each while you lapped your tongue on both tips, spitting and letting it drip to his base, giving each equal treatment.
He watched before you, an expressionless face as you loved on his cocks, reacting indifferently.
You gazed up with inquisition to watch his reaction as you dragged your tongue down one and began pumping a steady rhythm with the other in hand.
He let out a quiet hiss, almost too quiet for your dept ears to hear when you completely enveloped him in your mouth, tongue swirling around his length while his cock head grazed your uvula, causing you to gag. You coughed around his cock, letting dribbles of spit mixed with his precum drip from your mouth to his base. You sucked and sucked, pinching your cheeks around his thick veiny circumference.
You only popped! your mouth off him when you felt his hips jerk in attempt to throat-fuck you. It wasn’t now that he was allowed that control. Not after the nauseating consciousness he forced upon you earlier.
Lowering your lids while you traced the veins up and down his second cock, using your free hands to jerk his other, twisting in tandem, squeezing tightly when you reached his angry red tip. You pointed your tongue and circled his tip and opening, as if to tease the one you serve.
You watched as his eyes narrowed, you saw the way he held back his moans. You saw the way he had to fight his body going limp by positioning his arms to brace his upper body behind him.
You embraced his second cock in your mouth, this time letting one hand pump the length your mouth couldn’t reach. He brought his hand out to smack yours away, gripping the back of your skull and pushing you down.
You choked, coughed, gagged. Tears brimming the corner of your eyes when you moaned and adjusted to the sensation of his cock in your throat.
And he was so deep you were sure he could see the outline of it. His breath quickened for a moment before he pulled you off. “Enough.” He said calmly. He wasn’t calm.
He grabbed your forearms to pull you atop him, forcing your clothed pussy to graze his spit covered, sloppy cocks.
“Your garments. Remove them at once.” He demanded.
You did as told, taking your time in attempt to mock him. Pulling your shirt over your head slowly to reveal your braless chest. You watched his blank face, not missing the way his pupils dilated ever-so-slightly when your rotund tits bounced out from the fabric holding them back. He gripped one firmly in his large hand, letting the plush tissue of your breast pillow between his fingers as he massaged with greedy desire, letting out a quiet hm like he was deciding something, or rather, coming to a conclusion.
He wanted this just as much as you.
When you removed your pants and panties he grabbed your waist tightly to position you so your pussy would grind against his cocks that lay on his naturally-defined abs.
“Hah,” he laughed. Feeling your dripping cunt coat him in even more of your sweet fluids. “Ready for me already, are you?” He still gripped you with two hands, using an extra hand he slapped your pussy. The sound of it squelching filled the empty room as he kept slapping it, causing your eyes to roll back into your skull.
You splayed your fingers on his chest for support, looking up at him with a distressed look on your face when he positioned his first cock at your entrance.
“Human, can you not handle me?” It was a rhetorical question. Not that you’d give him the pleasure of hearing your answer even if it wasn’t.
You furrowed your brows and sat down as if to prove a point, filling yourself up immediately with one of his cocks, ignoring the pain, the sting you felt while he nearly tore you apart.
He gritted his teeth, “I see now.” He smiled, “you are too inexperienced.”
You stuffed yourself repeatedly, almost seeing stars every time your hips descended at the limited capacity your small body had in comparison to him. “Inexperienced?” you huffed out between breaths, tears rolling down your cheeks and eyes pinched shut. “My lord… should you… expect me to… lay with more men?”
“I never said such a thing.” He growled, seeking the strength to resist stuttering his hips from your painfully languid pace. He didn’t want to hurt you too much.
You felt your walls begin to flutter around his cock already, your clit hitting the wet tongue of the mouth on his stomach every time you filled yourself with him. It had been only a few minutes of this, and yet your body still hasn’t adjusted. He had a good two inches that wouldn’t fit. His tip was already kissing your cervix, the ache that rang through your entire body like a bell when your poor pussy couldn’t keep up with even a slow pace. He was painfully large.
“Make haste, human.” He spoke, lowering his lids and sucking an inhale through his lips. “Hasten your pattern. Reach your precipice.”
You felt the building pressure in your stomach when he spoke, the coil tightening in your abdomen as you lost composure and came from a single one of his cocks alone when you felt him internally grunt and muscles tighten beneath your palms. Your body nearly went limp, as when you went to collapse forward he caught you, switching positions quickly so you lay on your back with him between your legs, now pulled out from your entrance.
“Inadequate,” he voiced, gripping both cocks with either hand, centered at your entrance. “This shall be rectified at once.”
And before you knew it, he was inching both of his cocks inside you. It burned, it felt as if he was searing you apart, like you were a fly compared to an elephant. The throb you felt radiating through you that started at your center, the sweet, sweet throb.
You saw the way he looked up at you, looking for permission to continue. You threw your head back whimpering, gripping the sheets at your sides with your mouth agape. Looking at him once more to see him avert his concerned gaze turn into a more nonchalant one.
“You must take this.” He looked down, having the tongue on his lower stomach dart out to lap at your folds, caressing your clit with care as if to soothe your pain.
He took the hint when you linked your ankles behind his sculpted back, pulling him in. He gripped your thighs, threw your ankles above his shoulders and pulled your body to him. Letting him fill up as much as possible before hitting the limit.
Getting in another inch or two, he began his erratic pace. Grunting as he thrusts, he held a wicked, evil smirk on his face while he gripped your waist like you’d run away.
“I… I still hate you,” you reminded him. Sukuna made you drunk. It was the pain, the pleasure, the agony from losing this fight with him. He only let out a demented laugh in response.
You panted loudly, clenching around his length as if it were a lifeline. You’d gotten somewhat used to his size with just one cock, and now he fucked you apart with both. It was truly a transcendental experience, pain morphing into pleasure, hate turning into a reluctant passion.
He removed one cock and began fucking you at an erratic pace with the other. His other cock slapping your stomach each time he snapped his hips, rutting into you and grunting like an animal.
You were still so tight, and now his one cock could fit fully inside you, like he really did stretch you out to fit him. He saw the bulge of himself outlining your lower abdomen, giggling to himself.
“You humans,” he huffed out, voice low and gritty, “are so fragile.”
Your moans only became louder when he pounded faster, deeper. At one point deciding to cover your own mouth in attempt to lower your voice from being heard, he smacked it away.
“You must not.” He commanded. “The estate must be apprised of our connection.”
He then brought his calloused hand to rest at the base of your neck, teetering on the edge of just barely gripping you but still keeping you in his hold. Your fingers linked behind his neck, beckoning him to come closer.
Your lips met, kissing for the first time and sharing breaths, moaning in his mouth. And fuck, was he a good kisser. You wondered if he’d ever done this before… and with who.
His lips devoured yours like he’d been waiting years for your arrival. Like he could never get enough. It was such a stark contrast to his usual bloodthirsty demeanor. He was ruthless in having you, lying in wait for you to realize what you already knew. The festered hatred splitting in two to create something new. The fire burning in your chest with hate wasn’t so different from the fire in the pit of your stomach as his cock alone made you cum for the second time tonight.
Sukuna rarely demanded, and he never chased. He simply stood, watched, and waited.
When the moment came, and years lying in wait for the moment when you turned toward and not away, he would not gloat. He would only smirk, as if to say, finally.
For all his taunting, smug certainty, he was just as bound to you as you were to him, your lord. Something about you was different than the rest of the servants. The care and precision you put into your duties was different than their usual mindless acts of submission. Your defiance was sharp and deliberate. You may serve him, but you never belonged to him.
And that was what he sought most from humans and rarely found. Not a servant, not obedience, but you. Entirely and willingly consumed by something stronger than hatred.
That’s why he gravitated towards you, and that’s why he picked you to be the first human to ever become intimate with him.
Therefore he waited. He waited for the moment you’d stop resisting the inevitable. For the moment you were his just as he, in the depths of his cruel, stubborn heart, was yours.
Which is why when he expended himself, painting your walls with thick ropes after ropes of cum, room filled with the slowing slap of skin, grunts, panting, smelling of shared sweat and sex, you just had to ask,
“you’re a fuckin’ asshole, y’know that?” percy scowled as he bent to lean closer to your face, in your personal space.
it was quiet in your cabin. dark. all your siblings were gone for a trip and you had played a little prank on percy! your sort-of-enemy at camp. well, i guess he’d taken it badly. i suppose he didn’t take kindly to crude rumours being spread about him.
he had corned you in your cabin to express his gratitude for your oh so sweet words and the whispers of the aphrodite kids.
“how’d you fuckin’ like it?” he sneered. “huh?”
you simply could not suppress the smirk that tugged at your lips. you could not help but provoke him!
“c’mon, perce. the girls needed a little something to talk about.” you bat your lashes teasingly.
percy scoffed. “you do not get to call me ‘perce’- and what? you want everyone talking about me quote ‘fucking my chem teacher back in the city’?” he was all up in your face now.
“oh, don’t be such a loser, percy.” you rolled your eyes impertinently. “drew thinks it’s hot.” you shrugged and raised a brow. “i gave you play.”
“i don’t give a fuck about what drew thinks.” he spoke bitterly. “when does this game end? your taunts and rumours and godsdamn messing with me? huh?”
“it ends when your stupid smirk and stupid eyes-” you stopped yourseld for a mere moment. “stupid eye rolls and your whole ‘i’m better than you because i’m the son of poseidon’ thing ends.” you scowled as you look him up and down in frustration. “get out of my face.” you shoved him back by his shoulders.
he scoffed again and responded in kind. this time, pinning you against the wall. was that his knee slipping between your legs? his gaze was heated in a way that made your core ache. stop that!
“fuck you.” he bit his lip before muttering those contemptuous words. “who the fuck do you think you are? you’re just obsessed with me, aren’t you?” he mocked.
“‘obsessed’?” your face painted with a look of complete disdain. “this is exactly what i’m talking about- you’re so full of yourself- you think you’re so much better than everyone else- who do you think you are?” you retaliated. “i hate you.”
“you sure do talk about me a lot for someone who supposedly hates me.” percy spoke matter of factly.
“shut up.” you spat.
“that why the told everyone that? you ran out of things to talk about me so you just fantasized something?” his knee was definitely between your thighs now.
“you’re a cunt.”
“yeah, well, you’re a bitch.”
“asshole.”
“do you ever shut up?”
“make me-” you didn’t even finish your sentence before his mouth was on yours and his hands were a blur of touches. your hands, too, seemingly had developed a mind of their own.
his hips pressed into yours and you could blatantly feel his frustration. the kiss was rough and angry and a competition of dominance. you kissed back.
“good girl.” he groaned into your mouth as he began to wrap his arms around your waist and lifted you against him like you were nothing. your legs immediately wrapping around him. “see? you do know how to behave.”
“shut up.” you muttered against his mouth as your hands gripped at his hair.
“make me.” he responded with your own words as he held you up and made quick work of his shirt, then reached for his belt. “somebody’s gotta teach you a damn lesson.” he nipped at your lip.
“i hate you.” you pulled him closer.
“looks like it.” percy tugged up your skirt.
his hands were gripping at you without any tenderness and so were yours as he discarded your panties.
“wet already? you clearly like hating me.” he began to press his tip to your centre. “shit, you’re so tight.” he hissed before his hands found your hips and he thrusted into you, eliciting a gasp from you.
“i hate you, you- obnoxious, arrogant- bastard.” you practically moaned as your brows furrowed at the size of him.
“mhm, hate you too, baby. you’re gonna take it though.” it wasn’t a question as his quickly found the best way to hold you up and fuck you at the same time. percy bit his lip as he slammed into you over and over.
you gasped softly as his pace grew merciless. the floor boards creaked as he pushed into your warmth over and over again.
“you gonna tell everyone ‘bout this?” he muttered, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips painfully.
you moaned. “fuck you, no.” ever the snarky one as you yanked at his hair as revenge.
“oh, you’re gonna regret that.” percy almost smirked. before you knew it, he had thrown you onto the bed, on your stomach before lift you onto your hands and knees almost gently then entering you again.
you gasped his name and arched until your cheek was pressed into the mattress. “perce-” you gripped the sheets, his relentless length reaching that perfect spot. then he reached around to play with your clit.
“what was that? couldn’t hear you over your little moans.” you could hear the grin in his voice. he groaned as you tightened around him. “gonna finish already, hm?”
you bit your lip when he reached down to grab your hair, pulling your head back, coaxing a sound from you.
“fuck, me too.” he murmured, his face twisted with pleasure. “cum all over my dick, baby.” you were both panting as you simultaneously climaxed.
your whole body was singing once he met your core so deep and you both finished. he released your hair and traced your spine, almost… reverently. you hear him whisper a word or two as he caught his breathe. you were convinced he said ‘beautiful’? your ears were deceiving you.
