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hyoseong-ah · 6 days ago

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“𝐈’𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔”

𓆩༒︎𓆪 DRAGON + KUROO TETSURŌ

Contains: Explicit sexual content, Fem!Reader size kink, possessiveness/obsession, rough sex, overstimulation, mild choking, praise/degradation, power imbalance (dragon/human dynamic), mating themes, potential breeding kink, mild dubcon vibes due to dragon dominance (consent is still clear), soft dom/feral dom switch, fantasy setting

Minors DNI. You must be 18+ to read. This is monsterfucker territory and unapologetically filthy. All characters are 18+

𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪

The Kingdom of Lysoria lives in terror of the black scaled dragon who dwells in the mountains, Tetsurō, a legendary beast whispered about in every bedtime tale. They say he hoards more than just gold..he hoards secrets, desires, and souls. No one dares approach his lair. Except one..you.

You’re the beloved princess. You’re graceful, radiant, the heart of the kingdom. But you’re not afraid of the dragon. Not because you’re brave, but because..he’s in love with you. Always have been. Since the first day he saw you dancing in the moonlit gardens, unaware of the glowing eyes watching from the shadows.

You visit him in secret, riding your horse deep into the forest where the trees whisper your name. When you arrive at his lair, he shifts into a man..tall, powerful, with glowing eyes and warm breath that curls like smoke as he speaks your name like it’s sacred.

“I could burn cities for you,” he growls, his voice like thunder. “But all I want is to hold you.”

Despite his monstrous power, with you he’s gentle. Protective. Possessive. You’re the only thing that calms the fire in him. And maybe..just maybe you don’t want to be saved from the dragon. Maybe you want to stay with him. Let him wrap you in his wings, whisper devotion in your ear, and make you his queen..forever.

𓆩༒︎𓆪

The cavern is dim, glowing faintly with the golden shimmer of treasure, but you outshine it all. You sit on satin laid over piles of pillows he’s stolen just for your comfort. You shouldn’t look so innocent draped in royal silk, biting your lip like that. And Tetsurō? Oh, he’s already shifting, shedding his monstrous form, skin glowing warm with heat, hunger in his eyes.

He approaches you slowly, predatory. The cave rumbles beneath his steps, but all you feel is the pull between you..thick, electric, undeniable.

“You know I can’t resist you,” he growls, his clawed fingers trailing lightly up your thigh, nails just barely dragging over your soft skin. “Every time you come here looking like this..you tempt me.”

His hands are everywhere..hot, big, greedy. One settles around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, the other tangling in your hair, tilting your head back so he can breathe against your throat. “Do you feel how fast your heart’s beating, princess? You like when I get handsy, don’t you? Naughty thing..”

Then he pushes you gently onto the soft pillows, hovering over you with heat in his breath, wings arching wide behind him like shadows. “Say the word and I’ll ruin you sweetly. Make you forget your crown, forget your name. The only thing you’ll remember is how it feels to be mine.”

His lips ghost yours, teasing. “So what’ll it be, your highness? Do I keep teasing my treasure..or claim her right here, right now?”

You tremble beneath him..not from fear, but from the tension coiling hot in your core. That smirk on his face? Dangerous. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Tetsurō kisses down your neck, slow and savoring, his fangs brushing against your skin like a threat and a promise. “You taste like temptation..like something no dragon should be able to touch,” he murmurs against your collarbone. “But I’m not just any dragon, am I, princess?”

His hands slide beneath your silks, palms rough, fingers hungry. He groans low when he feels how soft you are. How ready. “So warm already..all this for me?” One hand cups the back of your thigh, hoisting it over his hip, grinding against you..slow, heavy, teasing. “I could devour you right now. Tear through this little royal costume and feast on every inch of you.”

But instead..he takes his time. He drags your clothes off piece by piece, kissing each spot he reveals, eyes locked on yours, watching your breath hitch with every touch. “So beautiful like this..and all mine.”

His fingers trail lower, parting your thighs with reverent care and wicked intent. “You’ve been coming to my lair for weeks, looking all sweet and untouched. But now? I’m going to make you mine. Right here. On my hoard. Let them whisper about the dragon and his stolen princess..screaming his name while she begs for more.”

And oh, when his mouth finally meets your heat? He groans against you like he’s starved. Like tasting you is all he’s ever wanted. “Sweet gods above,” he growls, voice muffled between your thighs. “You were made for me.”

His tongue works slow circles at first, letting you squirm, letting you gasp..like he wants to memorize every twitch, every breathless moan that escapes those perfect lips of yours. One of his claws lightly drags down your side, just enough pressure to remind you he’s dangerous, even while he’s worshiping you like a goddamn goddess.

“You’re already trembling,” he murmurs between strokes of his tongue, his voice filthy, thick with pride. “What would your kingdom say if they saw their precious princess like this? Spread open, soaking, begging for the very monster they fear?”

You moan, arching into him..and that’s all it takes.

He growls, deep and possessive, grabbing your hips with both hands, holding you still as he devours you. His tongue slides deeper, faster, and that soft flick at just the right spot has your thighs clenching around his head. But he doesn’t stop. Not for a second. In fact..he chuckles, dark and feral, loving the way you writhe for him. “Go on, sweet thing. Fall apart for me. I want to feel your thighs shake.”

And when you do? When you cry out his name and shatter in his mouth, hips bucking..he doesn’t slow. He moans like a beast, feasting through your high, dragging it out until you’re left a breathless, sensitive mess beneath him.

Then he pulls back, his lips and chin glistening, eyes glowing like molten gold. “You taste like fucking heaven,” he pants, licking his lips. “And now that I’ve had one bite, I need more.”

He climbs over you again, his body pinning you down, hot and heavy. You feel the hard press of him between your thighs..thick, aching. Bare. He didn’t even bother with clothes. His need for you? That’s primal.

“I’m not stopping until the whole cave echoes with your cries, princess. I’ll make sure you can’t walk back to your castle without remembering what it felt like to be claimed by a dragon.”

He leans down, lips brushing yours, his voice raw and low..

“Now be a good girl..and take me.”

Your breath hitches as he sinks into you..slow, deliberate, dragging every thick inch until you’re stuffed full and gasping. His growl vibrates through your body, hands gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. “Fuck..you feel perfect,” he breathes against your mouth. “So tight, made for me. My sweet little princess..”

He pulls back just enough to slam back in, making you cry out and arch under him. And he grins, fangs bared in delight. “That’s it. Let them hear you. Let the whole damn kingdom know who you belong to.”

His pace builds..deep, rough, relentless. Every thrust forces you further into the pillows, your body helpless beneath his, trembling with every slam of his hips. His hand finds your throat, not squeezing..just holding, possessive, thumb brushing your jaw as he leans down, licking the sweat from your collarbone. “Look at you..fucked dumb on dragon cock. And we’ve only just begun.”

He shifts his angle, hitting that devastating spot that makes you scream, your nails raking down his back..he groans loud, hips stuttering. “You like that, huh? Gonna cum for me again, princess? Gonna soak me like the needy little treasure you are?”

One of his hands slips between your bodies, fingers circling your clit with expert precision, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr. “Cum for me again, baby. I wanna feel you tighten around me. I wanna see you fall apart while I ruin you from the inside.”

And when you do..when you cry his name and shatter around him again..he loses it. Snarling, groaning, slamming into you harder, deeper, chasing his own high until he finally buries himself with a feral growl, filling you with heat, with claim. With his obsession.

But he doesn’t pull out.

He stays inside you, pressing soft kisses to your jaw, your neck, your lips. “Mine,” he murmurs, voice tender now, almost reverent. “My princess. My mate. My everything.”

He rolls over, dragging you on top of him, still full, still hard. “We’re not done, love. Not even close.”

Your thighs are still shaking, your body sensitive and slick..but the way he looks at you? With hunger, with obsession, with that fire burning behind his eyes like you’re the only thing that could ever satisfy him..it lights something wicked in you.

Tetsurō lies beneath you, broad chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, still buried deep inside you. But his hands..they never stop. One grips your waist, the other slides up your spine, urging you closer until you’re straddling him fully, your dripping heat locked around him like you belong there.

“Look at you,” he purrs, voice a little rough from growling your name into the cave. “My spoiled little princess, all messy and full of me. You wanna ride your dragon now, hmm? Show me how royalty fucks?”

You start to move..slow at first, hips rolling in lazy circles..and fuck, the way he moans your name? It’s sinful. His head falls back, exposing his throat, fangs bared in pure ecstasy. “Yesss..just like that,” he groans. “So tight..gods, you’re milking me.”

But you want more. He wants more. So you start bouncing, pace picking up, the wet sound of your bodies filling the cave, your moans echoing off the stone. His claws dig into your thighs, guiding your rhythm, his chest heaving as he watches you with pure awe. “You’re gonna make me cum again, aren’t you? Look at this little body, riding me like it’s your throne.”

He suddenly sits up, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other gripping your hair, forcing your lips to his as he thrusts up into you..deep, brutal, hungry. “You drive me fucking insane, princess. I’d burn every kingdom to the ground just to feel this again.”

You’re so close again. Overstimulated and burning for more. He can feel it..he knows. So he whispers filth into your ear, voice low and breath hot, hips pistoning up into you with perfect rhythm. “Cum for me again, baby. Do it while I’m buried deep. Let me feel you break on me. I want to watch your face when you fall apart..knowing it’s all because of me.”

And when you do? You shatter. He roars, holding you down as he fills you again, body trembling from the force of it. It’s primal. Messy. Perfect.

You collapse against his chest, both of you panting, slick with sweat and lust.

And then..that damn dragon chuckles, fingers lazily stroking your back.

“Still not tired, my love?” he whispers with a wicked grin. “Good. Because I haven’t even tied you up yet.”

𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪

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hyoseong-ah · 10 days ago

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c’mon baby, just a quick fuck!

⋆.˚ NSFW . wc. 919. timeskip ! ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader 、 size k!nk 、 mentions of breedin’ 、established relationships ( marriage ) 、 big dick ! toshi . . . x-x ! — 𝑹𝑼𝑩𝑰 : “ sillie lil’ thirst, celebration for mai haikyuu phase comin’ back tew haunt me . .”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI is somebody who never paid much attention to intimacy . . . it wasn’t his thing, really. but with you . . his wife? he was willing to give you whatever you wanted. intimacy . . sexual or not with him is well thought of, you know your husband can be a little awkward sometimes . . but it’s not his fault. his large hands trailing downward towards the hem of your panties, his fingers curling inside your walls to ease your stress from time to time, he knew your body well. amidst his calm and collected demeanour, who would’ve known that . . ushijima wakatoshi himself would be the naughty type.

he couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t. those eyes of his, staring at you with both lust and love. he couldn’t count how many times he’d stare down at you and notice how big he was compared to you. during his games . . even when you stood in-front of him, he had the urge to grab at that pretty waist of yours, take you right then and there. he felt like a pervert, lusting over your height and size differences . . . wonderin’ how much of his cock you can handle. would it fit? would you be able to take it? he wondered how much cum would leak from your pretty pussy onto the soft sheets . . how pretty you’d look sprawled out on the bed, taking his length. he didn’t know the answer of those questions . . . but he was determined to find out himself. he was slowly losing himself day by day and it was all clear to you.

tonight, you saw a different side to him . . . a side you knew existed, but you never knew he would reveal it to you so soon. he wanted an answer to all those questions that lingered in his head so naughtily, he demanded answers. the feeling of your pussy gripping onto him for dear life sends shivers down his spine, ushijima’s heart raced . . . his breath hitching for a moment. when he feels you arch up against him, he grabs onto the waistband of your skirt and jerks you back against him harder, slamming himself deeper into you with each thrust. “fuck, fuck, fuck . . ." your husband growls, letting his bare chest brush against your back with each movement. ushijima was getting closer now, his muscles tense. he can feel his release building up inside him, threatening to burst and it hasn’t even been thirty minutes yet. “i . . . apologize, i can’t hold myself back anymore. . . ”

“fuck, ‘toshi your cock’s t—too big f’me !” you whined . . . your breathing grew heavy, your heart pounding against your chest. you stared right into his eyes, the fire in them matching your own. ushijima refused to put a stop to his thrusts . . . he didn’t stop, not even a second, that's how much he needed you. he’s not done with you yet. he smirked, panting heavily. as he pulled out, he took a few seconds to admire the drops of his cum leak out of you. he knew his cock was such a ridiculous size, but he loved how much it drove you wild. ushijima was even aware how intimidating his size could be, but his pretty little wife seemed to be handling it perfectly. the way you took him, accepting his roughness . . . your breasts bouncing from the harshness of his thrusts made his heart swell.

“you’ve got it, baby," he assured, positioning himself between your legs once more, easing the tip of his cock against your entrance, before slamming himself back inside . . . a grunt leaving his throat. “you can take it, sweet girl. i know you can.” ushijima bottomed out, letting out a contented groan . . . his hands gripping your hips tightly, savoring the velvety warmth enveloping him. “see how perfect you fit around me? it slid right in." he whispered, leaning down to nibble on her earlobe. your husband’s thrusts grew deeper and impatient, his cock sliding in and out of your wetness, whispering dirty nothings into your ear. the warm room was filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, his balls slapping against your ass every second, he was getting impatient . . . he wanted to cum once more, knock you up . . . give you a baby tonight. fuck, he’d like that.

ushijima’s breaths grew heavier, his hips slamming against your ass, driving into you with reckless abandon . . . he couldn’t help but growl as he felt another orgasm building. drool slipped from your mouth, your mind was completely out of it . . . hazy and filled with his cock. “s—so big, ‘toshi . . . so fuckin’ big.” ushijima chuckled, the sound was a mix of amusement and pride. "mmhm . . . but you’re taking me well, you don’t have to worry." he whispered, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he leaned in, his hands roaming your body with a hunger that mirrored his own. your bodies collided, the fire within your husband beginning to burn brighter, threatening to consume you both.

“let me hear you.” he panted, his voice thick with need. his fingers dug into your hips, the strength in his grasp a promise of the power he held over your smaller frame. shit, he really did love how small you were. “i want you to take all my essence, my love.” his free hand trailed up against your side, fingertips brushing against your breast, teasing the sensitive nipple through the thin fabric of your top. "i want to try making you a mother . . . fill you up ‘till you’re all full. you wouldn’t mind that . . . would you, baby?

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hyoseong-ah · 10 days ago

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━━ ❝ it's sticky, toshi... ❞

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : you help ushijima finally realize that he's got a breeding kink

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...cw : u. wakatoshi x fem!reader, dirty talk, messy and wet, teasing, marathon sex, pet names, breeding kink, talks of pregnancy, ushijima can't stop cumming

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...lunar's note : haikyuu save me, save me ushijima wakatoshi, SAVE ME !! anyways hi i spent 150$ on ushijima merch yesterday and i don't regret it, so say hello to my haikyuu phase coming back !!!

ushijima having a breeding kink isn't a surprise to you at all.

what is surprising is how long it takes for him to figure it out.

sure, at first it wasn't clear, but after being with him for so long, you quickly pick up on whenever he'd mutter in your ear as he slid his stupidly big cock inside of you, saying how badly he wished he could cum inside of you instead in the condom.

afterwards, he's so focused on cleaning you up and making sure you felt good and satisfied, you don't get a chance to question him on it. not that you were complaining, ushijima is so cute when he's asking if you need anything and constantly reminds you to get up and go use the bathroom.

it's even cuter when he realizes you can't walk.

"ah. i'm sorry, i didn't realize how hard i went...here, let me help."

eventually, you to suggest things to ushijima, trying to test out the waters with him.

you start by just asking if he’d want to fuck you without the condom, what he thought about cumming inside, even jokingly saying you’d make him a dad one day.

but it seems like that last part was swimming around his head for a while...he can't get the thought of you getting chubby and round with his kid out of your head. and knowing he'd be able to take care of you all the time? that thought alone made him shiver a little.

what can he say, he loves doting on you more than anything.

however, you aren't expecting the way he reacted weeks after dealing with your teasing and questioning, fueling the thoughts swirling inside his head.

"toshi, if you ever cum inside me, you should set it as your phone background! actually, wait, no, because what if your teammates see it..."

"..."

"mm, maybe a video instead? ooh, yeah, i want a video of you cumming in me then pullin' out so i can see it spill out, toshtosh, would you do that f' me?"

he doesn't reply and doesn't give you a chance to comment again. the visual you painted in his mind just too much for him.

next thing you know, ushi's got you folded in half on the bed, making sure you feel every drag of his stupidly fat cock against your hot gummy walls. he's pulling out to just the tip before slamming back inside you, groaning each time you let out a whimper of his name or squeeze down on him.

"toshi, t-toshi! h-hoohmygod, please, baby, c-calm down, 'm sorry f' teasin', oh my goddd...!"

you're so fucking wet and noisy, he wants to make you be quiet because he feels like your going to make him cum too fast but he'd never ever do it as the thought of not being able to hear you is painful.

he's lost track of time, your cunt making him brainless as he pumps his cock in and out of you as he groans your name, one of his hands pinning your arms to your back while the other presses your head into the pillows.

"s-shhh, honey, let...let me make you feel good, y're so loud..."

it's so fucking messy and sloppy, his cum is dripping out of your tight pussy from how many times he’s emptied his load into you, but he still isn’t stopping, no, he can't. it’s leaking from between your thighs, leaving a milky white sheen on his dick, dripping down onto the bedsheets.

"m-mmh, nooo, toshi, don' wanna be quiet, i-i wan' you to hear how good you make me feel, baby," you purr between moans, knowing that your voice was enough to get him off. the throb of his dick inside of you told you that you were right.

“i...i thought 'bout fucking you like this all day, during practice…that i’d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you," he mutters with a grunt, moving his hands off you so he could drape himself over your back.

"f-fuck, everyone knew something was off, kageyama kept asking me if-if was okay, how 'm i 'posed to tell him my pretty little honey is waiting at home for me to fill them with my cum?”

with an affirming coo, you manage to tilt your head to the side to look over your shoulder, wanting to see how ushijima is holding up and god, the sight is so sinful.

ushijima's dripping in sweat, his bottom lip swollen and puffy from his teeth digging into it. his fluffy hair is messy and sticking to his damp forehead, and his eyes are shut, squeezing in pleasure when the head of his cock brushed against that sweet spot just right, making your cunt spasm around him.

but his eyes keep opening to see the mess between the both of you. each thrust causes his cum to spill out around him, loud, wet squelches filling the bedroom. and it's only fueling his need to fill you up again, and again, and again, until he can’t anymore.

ushijima can’t stop himself, flipping you over onto your back and folding you into a mating press and, god, he's so fucking happy he did. the way you sob his name, your nails clawing at his back as you cry in pleasure about how much deeper he is now driving him insane.

“t-toshi, cum in me, please, wanna make you a daddy, please.”

“I know, baby, I’ll give you all of it, fuck you full of cum until you can’t take anymore.”

fuck, he’s so loud, he sounds so good. ushi's deep, drawn out groans and pants of your name making you go dizzy, his big hands squeezing your waist tightly each time your hands tug at his hair.

“mm, fuck, that’s right, take all my cum, look at you, so good, can you take more? let...let me cum in you again, baby, you promised you’d make me a daddy, right? i-i need to make sure it sticks.”

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hyoseong-ah · 13 days ago

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Nightingale (pt. 4)

Read pt. 3

CW: stepcest, noncon, partial p in v, choking/breathplay, dacryphilia, namecalling (sweetheart, cockslut, etc.), degradation, dirty talking, sadism, cock worship, blowjob, throat/facefucking, cumplay (?), lmk if i missed anything else WC: 3.5k a/n: please! pay attention to the warnings! i'm gonna proofread this tmr so excuse any mistakes... also i think this miniseries will have one more part as the last one

“I’ll make it up to you.”

You hate those stupid words that he’d uttered because now you can’t get them out of your head.

With bated breaths and timid glances you sneak at him you wait patiently, wondering if he really meant what he said.

Those stupid words that kept you yearning in a way that was unfamiliar to you- if not to feel his tongue or his touch again then that damned toy he’d used on you.

The orgasm it gave you kept you up for nights, only heightened when you thought of him using it on you.

But Sukuna had been working long hours lately, and you had no idea how to even bring this up to him- as if you would, even if you knew how.

Amidst your thoughts being infected with him, you somehow didn’t feel the want to go on anymore dates. You gave excuses- that you were busy with schoolwork or that your parents were strict, because the truth was gross.

You wanted your perverted stepbrother to fuck you, use you, make you feel good in ways that had you questioning your sanity. That he’s tainted you till the point you get wet when he calls you his little sister.

These days disgust and discomfort are hard to differentiate from want and dark desires.

Still, you wondered if something had shifted in your dynamic with him since that night. He seemed a bit less antagonistic these days the few times you saw him, still teasing and taunting but in a more playful manner, and you felt yourself easing up with his presence, like you weren’t a stranger in your own home whenever he was around.

Any amiability came to a stand still not even a week later, when the situation regarding your finances came up.

Maybe it partially arose from the fact the Mr. Itadori had stepped up in his paternal role, happily offering to pay for your expenses including your college tuition. It was no secret that he was smitten with you, maybe because having a daughter was a nice change after raising two sons his whole life.

Even this would still be fine if he didn’t make Sukuna - the only other earning man in the household - pay for your expenses as well.

You insisted otherwise but Mr. Itadori was set on making his older show up for you, perhaps thinking this would show him how to act or how to be a real brother to you.

And that’s how you arrived with Sukuna having to pay your credit card bill, which clearly pissed him off to no end.

“Seventy-eight thousand yen?! Are you fucking serious?”

You stood awkwardly in the doorway of Yuuji and Sukuna’s shared room, feeling guilty enough as it was going up to him and asking him if he could pay your bill since Mr. Itadori told you to go to him for it.

Honestly, you’d try to postpone this meeting for as long as you could but your bill was due very soon.

“It was over the course of one whole month, okay?” You reply defensively, thinking you’d actually done a decent enough job budgeting this month.

Sukuna’s lip curls in irritation as he looks up from the statement to glare at you. “You don’t fucking get it do you? Spoiled fucking brat, you’ve just had everything handed to you your whole life.”

His words sting, like they always do. You’re tired of hearing this same tirade from him over and over again- and to act like he knows you or whatever the hell your life was like?

It grates your nerves.

“Don’t act like I’m the problem just because you’re miserable.” You finally spit back.

“You are the fucking problem, you just enter our fucking lives and start leeching off of us.” He seethes, creases etched into his face that’s twisted in anger. “Getting coddled like you’re a damn toddler while the rest of us actually have to work.”

“I’m a full time student, you know this!” You step closer, done bowing your head and putting up with his bullshit. “And you have no right to act like you’re a fucking saint just because you have a job, after all the things you’ve done to me.”

You despise the way your voice breaks just a bit after you hiss out the last part, the way his expression contorts with something mocking, condescending.

He scoffs. “Done to you, huh? You keep playing this card like you don’t fucking love it,” He leans closer, “Like you don’t fall apart under my touch as if it’s the only good thing that’s ever happened to you. I bet you even fuck yourself on your fingers at night pretending they’re mine, don’t you?”

Sukuna watches you try to hold yourself together and keep your composure as you stubbornly deny him what both of you know is the truth, acutely aware of how close he was and that glint in his eyes. “I don’t. You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“Sweetheart, you’d probably get on the floor and do it in front of me right now if I asked you to.” He smirks. “If I promised you I’d make you feel so good, if you did. You don’t have nearly as much shame as you pretend to.”

You push down the lump in your throat, fingers curling inwards and unfurling again as you’re rudely reminded of the situation you’d been dealing with this whole fucking week, how even now your craving mind wonders if this is an offer.

“Make me feel good….how?” You murmur under your breath, heat seeping through your body and across your cheeks as you look down and away from his face and towards the long fingers that were pumping inside you.

You’re ridiculously horny for him.

He laughs, a callous sound that rips through and yanks you out of your stupor.

“God, you were really fuckin’ gonna do it, weren’t you? Pathetic bitch.” He sneers.

Tears of resentment, anger, and humiliation prick at your eyes and before they have a chance to fall your hand is suddenly flying through the air and slapping him squarely across the face.

“Fuck you, fuck, I wish you’d never entered my fucking life!” You yell, hating how your hit seemingly does nothing to him, or that sleazy grin on his face. “No wonder your mom left, it was probably because of you, her fucked up shit-show of a son.”

Whatever mirth lingered on his expression quickly disappears as his face hardens.

You know you’ve crossed a line, even before he stands at his full height reminding you of just how much bigger and stronger he was then you.

You’re still angry and honestly it felt good spewing that venom at him, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling something new right now like cold water in your veins.

It turns icier when he smiles again, the kind of smile that signals you should leave now.

“Maybe you’re right. Wanna see how much of a ‘fucked up shit show of a son’ she gave birth to?” He prowls closer, agonizingly slow as you continue to back further and further away until you’re near his door.

You really shouldn’t have gotten yourself into this situation while the only other person at home was Mr. Itadori who was contentedly asleep in the living room sofa while the tv plays loudly in the background.

Finally you swivel around, though you know it’s pointless.

You’ve played this game before- Sukuna will always be bigger, stronger, faster.

And just like that he’s in front of you, shoving you away from the door as a condemning click tells you there’s no getting out of this now.

It alarms you, enough that you’re leaping across the small expanse of the room, though you know it won’t do anything, confirmed by a tight grasp around your wrist before you’re shoved face first into the dark covers of his single bed.

It all happens so fast, you feel the immovable weight of him above you as you struggle uselessly and panicked tears are wet on your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Sukuna, I didn’t mean it—”

His hand is around your throat in an instant, pressing the air out of your words as he pushes your head back till your neck is straining. “Shut up, just shut the fuck up. You had it fucking coming.”

You stop trying to fight back, with both wrists held together behind your back in just one of his hands and another that could choke you out at any time, you were only just wasting your energy.

He leans in, breath hot and humid as it ghosts across your ear. “I really held out on this, you know. But you’ve pushed your luck too far this time…”

A sickly feeling curdles in your gut when he shifts so you can feel the hardness in his pants, rubbing along the curve of your ass. “So let me show you what a mean older brother I can be.”

Your breath turns shaky as you feel him undo his pants, shifting around to free his erection before crudely yanking your own bottoms and panties down, just enough that you can feel air brush against your exposed ass and cunt. “No, no, no, I’m not ready Sukuna, please you c-cant,”

His fingers tighten back up around your trachea, the uncomfortable pressure and your anxiety letting only a scant amount of oxygen to make it to your lungs.

“I can, and I will. Besides, you were ready that night, huh? Just to lose it to some random guy you barely even knew, if it came to it.”

You feel it then, the hot and leaking tip of his cock rubbing against your pussy. You try to swallow but you can’t. You want to yell, say something, anything, but not a single word can make its way up your squeezed throat.

“Oh fuck, you’re wet.” He chuckles lightly, exhaling audibly as his cock slides further into your lubricated folds, sliding it back and forth in your slick. “You like this or something? Is this turning you on? God, you might just be as ‘fucked up’ as me…”

His grip loosens slightly on your throat, allowing you with some much needed air as you find yourself getting even more worked up, despite the fear and bitterness that boiled in you.

Your stomach tightens when you feel him stop his movements to prod his tip against your entrance. “St-stop Sukuna, I won’t be able to take it,” You whisper as fresh tears fall, “You’ll tear me up.”

“Just take a deep breath.” He says flatly, not a hint of concern in his voice. “Or don’t, I don’t really care either way.”

He presses himself further into you, and you can already feel the pain gathering as he’s barely even inserted himself.

“No-”

Your cry of protest turns into a wincing gasp as he pushes himself further into you, just the tip of him forcing its way past your entrance.

“Oh shit, you’re tight,” He groans.

It hurts. A painful burn that felt like you were being ripped open as he tries to inch himself deeper into you.

Your body’s tensed in pain, breath labored while you let out feeble whimpers as tears stream and stream, trying to just get through it, remembering how you were always told that there would be pleasure after the initial pain.

Even if it doesn’t seem like this pain would ever be worth it.

He can’t honestly be more than an inch in, but you feel him stop moving.

He’s looking at you.

A second passes before he sighs. “Fuck.”

And with that there’s another sudden burst of pain before it’s gone all together and you realize he’s pulled himself out of you.

His hand leaves your throat, relief flooding your veins when you feel his weight lift off you.

As soon as you can, you quickly turn over, harshly pulling your own pants up to see he’s already tucked himself back in as well.

You scoot farther away from him on his bed until your back is to the wall.

He’s looking down at you with a scornful look of frustration with a gaze that makes you feel small before finally breaking the silence. “Get on the ground. You’re gonna have to make me cum another way.”

“Wh-what?”

“Are you dumb? Get down and on your knees. Now.”

You do as he says, slipping off the edge of his bed and slowly lowering yourself till he knots a hand in your hair and pushes down on your hear till you’re at his crotch level.

“And take off your top.”

You hesitate.

It doesn’t make sense for you to be shy about this, especially after everything else.

You swallow and grab your shirt by the hem to pull it up over the top of your head before pausing and looking up at him.

“Don’t make me fucking say it.”

Well, at least you tried your luck.

Slowly you unclasp your bra and take off the straps before throwing it to the side to expose your bare chest to him.

Sukuna’s eyes roam over your tits as your nipples harden in exposure to the air and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“That’s what I like to see.” He hums before gripping your head tightly again to push you forcefully into the large bulge in his pants so that he can grind it on your face. “Feel that? You’re gonna take all of it down your dumb little throat and you’re gonna love every single second of it. Understand?”

Tears sting your eyes and your face burns in equal parts shame and arousal as you nod obediently.

“Say it. Haven’t I taught you how to use your words?”

“Y-yes, I understand.” The words come out muffled by his clothed erection pressed against your mouth.

He pulls away. “Strip me.”

For a second you pause before quickly getting to work, unable to look up at him in the eye as you do so.

You unbutton his jeans and pull them down, the outline of his hardened cock through the black boxers sucking the air out of your lungs. Your fingers brush against his skin as you hook them around the waistband and peel them down to release his swollen dick.

Your stomach coils again.

Maybe it’s just the angle but you swear it looks even bigger than last time, with a vein running around the underside that you hadn’t previously noticed.

There was no way in hell you could have possibly taken that thing inside you and survived.

“Look up at me.” He orders as he grasps his cock with one hand.

You tilt your chin, round tear eyes meeting the hungry ones above you, watching his pupils blow out even more when he slaps his blushed tip against your face, making you wince softly.

That wicked leer of his only grows, the one that always means bad news.

“Kiss it. Show me how much you love my cock.”

Your eyes widen slightly, laying your hands around the dark tattooed bands encircling the muscular tops of his thighs before placing a chaste kiss right on his slit.

“Ah, fuck,” He exhales as he rubs the leaking tip of his dick up against your lips, smearing the precum all over them like it’s lipgloss. “That’s a good girl. Keep this up and you might actually make up for before.”

You resist the urge to bite his dick off.

He taps his cock on your mouth. “Open up.”

You comply, entirely confused by how much you hated this, especially after what he’d just tried, yet found yourself just as desperately wanting to taste him.

He immediately begins to slide his length through your opened mouth, groaning at the contact against your wet tongue, continuing to go deeper and deeper till it was uncomfortable.

You try to fight your gag reflex from being triggered but it happens anyway, with something so long and large being pushed down your throat. You grip his thighs pathetically and try to push away from him as your throat convulses around his cock, trying to squeeze it out.

You’re offered no mercy because it only hardens his dick more, and with a cold laugh he harshly shoves your skull further down his length till your nose is pressed against his pelvis. “Oh come on, you’re being dramatic.”

Dramatic?

You can barely breathe, growing dizzy when he finally pulls out and peers down at you as you cough a bit and regain your breath.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re such a sensitive little thing, because fuck, it turns me on to see you all pathetic like this.” You wish you could ask him to be gentler but you know by now that there was a good chance he’d likely just do the opposite. So instead you wipe your tears and determinedly take his dick in your hand to put it into your mouth again- though this time not all the way.

Sukuna let’s you do this without shoving himself back down your throat, watching your face and fighting the urge to let out a moan as you swirl your tongue around his swollen tip.

You gaze up at him and he inhales sharply when you dig your tongue into the divot of his frenulum, dragging your soft tongue up from it over his tip, and back down his shaft again.

His breathing grows heavier, no longer able to fight the urge to thrust in and out of your warm, wet mouth in time with your motions and the way your tongue laves so sensually all over his dick. “Shit, you like this you little cockslut? You like sucking off your big brother?”

You moan around his dick without even thinking, and Sukuna grins again. “Wow, you really are messed up.” He rasps. “Now suck my balls like a good little slut, yeah?”

He pulls his wet length out of your messy mouth, smeared with precum and saliva. You hold his cock up and close your lips around his heavy scrotum, sucking and lapping gently at the soft flesh while you stroke his shaft with your hand.

The last restraints of his control begin to crumble at the sensation, at how fucking filthy you look like this. “Ah -fuck- god, you really are nothing more than my obedient little dog, huh? I can make you do -hah- whatever the fuck I want you to…”

His grip in your hair suddenly tightens and he pulls away to shove his cock through your parted lips, unable to control the urge to fuck your mouth any longer.

The pressure is sudden and before you can adjust he’s gripping your hair so tightly you feel pinpricks on your scalp. That pain is quickly overshadowed when he begins snapping his hips back and forth at a brutal pace.

You struggle to keep your mouth open while you try not to choke on the cock slamming into the back of your throat over and over again.

“Ah, shit, you pathetic, stupid, needy little thing. You’re -hah- really worth nothing more than being a -fuck- a cocksleeve for me to use.”

You don’t notice tears are falling again, running down your cheeks and only adding to the ness of spit dribbling obscenely down your chin from where he mercilessly thrusts in and out of your mouth.

It hurts, your jaw aches and you feel like you’re suffocating on his cock abusing your throat, hoping it won’t be long till he cums because you don’t think you can keep this up much longer.

And like your prayers have been answered, suddenly he snaps his dick all the way out of your mouth and jerks it above your face before cumming with a hiss, ropes of thick hot cum spurting out and painting your whole face white. They keep coming for a few seconds more, and by the time he’s down you feel the viscous fluid dripping lewdly down your face.

He pants, eyes drinking in the sight of you kneeling with cum all over your face, and it almost makes his dick harden again. “God, you look perfect right now, sis.”

You can barely look up at him, thinking it would’ve been a lot less degrading for him to just cum down your throat than this.

Sukuna furrows his brows in mock confusion. “Where’s your gratitude? Show some thanks and lick that shit up like a properly trained mutt.”

You don’t even think, just moving automatically to swipe your fingers in the semen drying on your face, and sucking them clean. He watches you do it over and over till of it is gone into your stomach, and you look expectantly up at him.

He’s tucked himself back in, reaching forward to pet the top of your head. “Good girl. I guess you’ve earned me paying your bill, huh?”

242 notes · View notes

hyoseong-ah · 13 days ago

Text

Nightingale (pt. 3)

Read pt. 2 and pt. 4

CW: stepcest, dubcon, usage of a suction vibrator, mentions of masturbation, mentions of cucking, dirtytalking, slight exhibitionism? (doing stuff in a room full of other people including parents but no one notices), overstim, unplanned orgasm denial WC: 4.1k a/n: sorry this part isn't as interesting as the other ones haha just had to get it out of my system before i can move onto other ideas so BEAR WITH ME

The stains left behind on your sheets were still quite noticeable even after you tried spraying, soaking, and scrubbing them with cleaning agents meant specifically for these kinds of messes. The blood had tinged every liquid you’d disgracefully released that night with a shade of pink that would make sure they were as evident as possible on the white fabric.

After nothing worked, you'd stripped your futon bare and simply threw them in the washer, telling your mom that you’d accidentally stained it last night in your sleep because of your period. Luckily she remained as clueless as ever, telling you that it was fine and she’d get new ones.

Maybe a bit too clueless because you absolutely wanted to shrivel up and disappear from sight the next morning when she asked Mr. Itadori where he’d kept the fresh sheets, at the breakfast table in front of both Yuuji and Sukuna.

All the appetite for the food in front of you vanished as rage and humiliation flared up in you instead- a bit at your mom for embarrassing you like this with her usual lack of tact and mostly because of the pointed smirk on Sukuna’s face that you could practically feel prodding you even with your eyes cast firmly downwards.

You could already tell there were biting words waiting, ready to be unleashed at the tip of his tongue, and as soon as your parents left you once again alone with him and Yuuji, out they came. “New sheets, huh? What, did you wet the bed or something?”

“Period,” you said flatly, stirring your tea and refusing to give him the reaction he wanted from you.

Yuuji flashed a warning glare at Sukuna that did absolutely nothing to deter him.

“How old are you? Still can’t control your messes at your big age?”

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” Yuuji turned to you. “Just ignore the asshole. The sheets are in the cupboard in the hallway, I can get them for you if you’d like.”

You forced a small smile as you stood and collected your dishes. “It's fine I can get them myself since I gotta go right now anyway. Thanks, though.”

“Alright, I’ll catch ya later then.”

From the heaviness of Sukuna’s silence and his dark eyes following you along with Yuuji turning to glare back at his older brother, you could already sense they were about to start bickering again as you leave the dining room.

A few days pass and you try to go about your life as usual- studying for finals, going to classes, texting the guy you’re talking to.

But no matter how much you can pretend, that night continues to manifest itself- either as the fading soreness that you could feel with every movement the day after he’d scratched you up or as the way you’d deliberately switch your plans around so that you wouldn’t happen to be alone at home with him.

He was noticing of course the way you’d try and avoid him, and instead of pushing harder and bullying you more like you half expected, Sukuna mostly kept his distance.

Distance that felt like nothing the way his eyes would follow you these days, piercing looks that spoke for themselves.

Ironically Yuuji thought he was getting better, now that the three of you could sit at a table without Sukuna starting something by picking on you.

If only he knew the way your stomach would curl into a pit when Sukuna would simply ask you to pass the hot sauce at your end of the table, the intense glint in his eyes contrasting with his amiable, almost lilting tone.

Somehow this complete lack of outright acknowledgement of what had happened in your room, what he’d done, only put you on edge even more for reasons you couldn’t name.

Feeling increasingly nervous, you asked your mom on the third night after if you could have a lock installed on your door. You gave her the reason of “wanting more privacy” and of course she blew you off like you’d expected.

“This is a shared home, there’s no locking doors around family.”

You resorted to spending the next two nights staying with your friend Shoko in her dorm on campus. It was a refreshing change of pace, spending the day on campus and being able to spend more time with friends as well go to nearby cafes to study with that guy.

He was growing on you- it felt good to be around someone who could make you laugh and temporarily forget the curse in your life that was your older stepbrother.

You could forget about him, or at the very least pretend his aggressions were the only issue until you were once again under the cover of night, wrapped in sheets and trying to fall asleep and desperately forget how his tongue felt lapping at your pussy.

And just like the previous four nights, forgetting turned to fantasizing, but this time without the luxury to touch yourself since you weren’t within the privacy of your own room.

As if it made that much of a difference- your fingers could never live up to his touch, even when you were spurred on by images of him that night replaying in your mind like a broken record.

You cussed yourself out mentally before giving in, drifting off to sleep with clenched thighs into another night of restless dreams about him that would usually end in you waking up with sweat sticky on your skin and the urge to rush to the bathroom to try and finish yourself off.

That’s exactly how you wake your second night at the dorm and you’re oddly grateful for your situation since at least now you can’t give in to your new daily morning habit.

Shoko is already awake, greeting you as you sit up in your sleeping bag and stretch while she gets ready for the last exams till school is out for winter break.

The two of you are deciding on what to get for breakfast when your phone rings. You sigh and turn it over, seeing it's your mom like you expected.

“Hello?”

“Good morning. You’re coming back by tonight, right?” your mother immediately asks.

“I dunno…why?”

“Its been two nights and you barely even told me where you were going or for how long or with who. What’s gotten into you? You can’t just be disappearing off like tha-”

“I told you I was going to be staying at Shoko’s didn’t I?” you answer as Shoko looked towards you at the mention of her name. “Besides what’s the big deal?”

“Firstly, I don’t like you going out for this long without giving me all the details. God forbid something were to happen, neither I nor Jin nor your brothers would be there to help you.”

You can tell she’s just worried, but you still feel a bite of irritation at the irony of it. Yuuji you could understand- even Mr. Itadori, but wherever did your mom get the notion that Sukuna would ever be on your side?

Hell, he’s probably the exact kind of thing she’s trying to protect you from.

“Okay, fine. What else?” you mumble unexcitedly.

“You do remember about the dinner party tomorrow evening, right?”

You audibly groan at the reminder.

Some stupid end of year party for your parents’ friends and acquaintances that you had absolutely no interest in attending.

“Do I have to g-”

“Yes. Its not up for discussion. Please be home by tonight so we can prepare.” Without leaving any room for negotiation, your mom hangs up the phone while you feel like flinging yours across the room.

It's all for show, you know how your mom and Mr. Itadori want to show off what a perfect happy little family the five of you are. It would look bad for them, your mom especially, if you were missing from the function.

You’re not a fan of these cocktail parties, more so due to boredom than anything else, but your apprehension of going home is only heightened this much because of one person.

Especially since you know he probably knows he’s the reason you’ve been gone.

Your morning is spent mostly ranting to Shoko, before the two of you part ways when she has an exam to finish and you get ready for a lunch date before you pack your things and he drops you home.

He takes you to a cat cafe, and once again you have such a good time that you nearly forget about what waits for you at home.

And when he finally pulls up outside your house and he kisses you, you wonder if maybe you can replace the thoughts of Sukuna’s tongue with his, just to rid yourself of that depraved urge he instilled in you.

A wave of relief washes through you when you notice the bike isn’t parked in front of your house as you walk up to let yourself in. Hopefully you can go the rest of the night without seeing him.

It sinks away when you hear his bike pull up in the street right as you close the door. Even worse, you’re sure he probably caught your date leaving.

Luckily you already ate so you kick off your shoes and rush to your room, closing the door before you can come face to face with Sukuna who you hear entering the house just a few moments later.

Fuck him for making you have to run around and hide like this in your own home.

You get ready for bed and when you’re finally tucked in you hear Sukuna’s footsteps coming up the stairs like every other night.

Just like every other night, you tense up and hold your breath, partially waiting for him to turn the knob and slip into your room.

And like every other time after the first, his footsteps pass by your room and disappear while you let out the breath you were holding- whether in relief or disappointment you can’t tell.

It's dark now and once again you’re seated in front of your vanity to brush your hair and smooth out the dress in preparation for the guests that will start arriving at any minute now.

You reach for the bottle of perfume, the one you hadn’t worn since that evening before your first date.

You spray your pulse points sparingly and even then as the rich scent of fruity pink florals hits your nostrils, suddenly you’re taken back to that memory of him again, in disturbingly vivid detail. How he sat you on his lap, brushed your hair, the sight of his cock wrapped in your panties…

You set the bottle back down, ignoring the heat pooling between your legs and try to straighten yourself out so that your flushed state wouldn’t show on your face.

He would be here too, but you feel a lot better about it considering that everyone else would be present as well.

Nothing will happen.

With this self assurance you breathe easier as you exit your room to help your mom and Yuuji finish setting things up, double checking the gifts and laying out plates of food. You find Sukuna still isn’t there and frankly you don’t want to ask, as if speaking his name would summon him like a demon.

Minutes pass and you ease up some more, greeting guests as they arrive and exchanging gifts. The house becomes livelier, ambient chatter filling the atmosphere. It's much more pleasant with a few sips of sake and the fact that you still haven’t caught sight of Sukuna. You spend the time introducing yourself, chatting with the adults who ask you the usual questions regarding what you’re studying in college and what field you plan to find a career in. In between you and Yuuji giggle and joke around while he routinely fills, finishes, and refills his plate with appetizers, slowly but steadily finishing off the tempura and yakitori, hoping that no one notices.

He comes rushing back with his fourth plate, looking around before offering you some more and resuming his snacking. “I think you might need to get the next plate, I think your mom’s catching onto me….”

You turn just in time to catch her suspicious gaze drifting away, stifling a laugh as Yuuji munches on the last of the tempura. “I’m actually surprised no one’s noticed by now.”

“They’ve definitely noticed, one of dad’s coworkers saw me heading back to the table and raced me there so he could take some tempura before I took the rest.”

“Just be patient Yuuji, there’ll be more food later. You act like we’re starving you,” you snort as you finish the last of the sake in your cup.

Yuuji frowns. “Before this, I hadn’t eaten anything in four hours. Four whole hours.”

You roll your eyes before getting up. “I’m gonna get another drink, be right back.”

You’re pouring yourself some sake when you feel a hand snaking around your waist, making you look up in surprise.

There he is- dressed in a dark dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and matching black belted slacks with a rakish smirk plastered onto his face to complete his look.

You swallow.

He looks good, more than you’d ever like to admit.

“Hey, sis,” he greets you casually while you nervously look around.

The house is a lot more crowded now, and with the corner Sukuna’s backed you into, you feel a little more isolated with him than you’re comfortable with.

“Hi…” you mumble back quietly as you put the bottle back in place, not wanting to start something here out of all places.

And with this many people around he wouldn’t dare trying some shit, right?

“So, wanna tell me where the hell you’ve been these past two nights?” The fingers on your waist start skimming, playing with the hem of your top to lightly rake his nails across the surface of your skin under.

You scoff, unamused as you down the shot and put the ceramic on the table. “No I don’t, considering you have no right to ask me some shit like that.”

His nails press lightly into your flesh as he slowly but firmly guides you away from the table, further into the corner. “Been whoring yourself out?”

“What, you mean like you? No. I was staying with my friend.” The alcohol in your system is starting to show its effects, the atmosphere blending to become a bit hazier and the realization that you’re not pushing away or stopping his light touches.

He cranes his neck slightly to speak lowly into your ear. “Why? It didn’t have anything to do with me, did it?”

Asshole.

You stiffen, heart thumping in your chest, knowing you’d be stupid to even try and lie, but still reluctant to give him the satisfaction of your answer.

Luckily he speaks again before you have the chance to, straightening back up. “Oh by the way, I got something for you.”

You furrow your brows, thrown off-guard by the complete change of tone and unexpected gesture. “Huh? What is it? I didn’t get anything for you…”

Was this another trick?

Instead of receiving an answer, you feel him shift before he pulls something out of his pocket and shows it to you. “Don’t worry, its brand new. Just took it out of the packaging.”

You squint. The object is made from some peach colored rubberish material, with what looked to be a finger strap on the back and a small hole in the center of it.

“Literally what the fuck is tha-”

You regret wearing a skirt instead of a dress because out of nowhere his hand and the object in it are dipping beneath your waistline and into your panties. You only realize what it is when you feel him adjusting the toy, nestling it in between your folds so that the suction part is resting directly on top of your clit.

“Sukuna, oh my god-” You anxiously scan your surroundings before looking up into his face. “There’s people here- not to mention my mom, your dad, and Yuuji, are you fucking crazy?”

You grip his arm tightly, the smooth silicone cool on your sensitive flesh while you look for where everyone is, finding your mom and Mr. Itadori chatting with another couple across the house. In the secluded area you’re in, luckily the table and chairs are blocking your bottom halves from direct view.

Still, this is too much, too wildly inappropriate and you don’t even want to begin to imagine what would happen if someone noticed. “C-Can we just go up to my room or somethi-”

He laughs meanly before turning it on.

Your breath hitches and immediately you’re incapacitated by the vibrations coursing not just through your clit, but the length of your entire vulva. It’s only the first setting, but it's the first time you’ve ever felt a vibrator, and with how sensitive you are to this novel sensation you immediately feel blood flowing down to your clit, slow waves of pleasure building up.

The low humming is masked by the sounds of chatter, laughter, and music but still you look up to make sure no one can hear anything before relaxing ever so slightly.

“So…a lock on your door, huh?” Sukuna starts, an accusatory tone that tells you he isn’t happy about it.

You turn your head into his chest, letting locks of hair fall over your face and hoping it would conceal your expression.

“Can you blame me?” you say feebly, trying not to lose yourself in the steady feeling between your thighs.

“You’re a stupid girl if you think that would protect you from me.” He presses a button on the side and vibrations amp up a level, making you draw a sharp breath as you really start to feel the suction pressure on your clit.

Sukuna bends lower to look into your rounded eyes. “Besides, you fucking loved it.”

His voice sends a chill through you, dripping with something that makes you feel so dirty, yet only increases the heat burning on your cheeks, ears, adding to the intensity of the pleasure caressing your sensitive spot.

“I-I…” There’s a dryness in your mouth as you realize you’ve been panting softly through parted lips, unable to form a coherent sentence as the pressure builds.

“Loved the way I ate out your messy, bleeding cunt while mom and dad slept right down the hall…” he rasps, leaning lower to fondle the curve of your ass with his other hand.

“D-don’t -ah- say that, Sukuna,” you whimper, peering up at him as tears begin to sting your eyes from the orgasm you could feel building slowly and steadily with increasing intensity in response to the filthy images he was making your remember.

“Why not? Bet you would’ve liked them finding us like that. Probably would’ve made you cum on the spot,” he whispers.

And all at once its too much, the orgasm washing upon you so all-consuming that you can’t even make a single noise, a single whimper or moan doesn’t make its way out. Instead you cum open mouthed, silent and painless tears rolling down your cheeks while you orgasm to the picture of your parents catching him doing all those disgusting things to you, the muscles in your clit twitching violently under the buzzing and suckling vibrations of the toy.

After a few seconds your orgasm dissipates and the sensations on your clit become overwhelming, painful even.

“Ah, ow, t-turn it off-” You twist and try and lift your hips away from the uncomfortable feeling, jerking liking you’re being stung at the jolts of over stimulation while still trying not to make so much as a commotion as to catch others’ attention.

“You’re still seeing that little dipshit aren’t you? The one who dropped you off last night?” Sukuna growls, not caring less about you squirming in discomfort. “Did he fuck you?”

“N-no, not yet,” you breathe out, your struggling slowly starting to calm down as the pressure on your clit doesn’t feel as painful anymore.

You turn your face around and try to stand straighter so nothing looks suspicious to anyone whose eyes might happen to pass over this way.

“Not yet? Fuck’s that supposed to mean?” He presses the vibrator harder up against your pussy and suddenly you catch the faintest whiff of what you assume is his cologne. “You know maybe I should just fuck you right here and now- make you scream when I tear you open on my cock. How’s that sound, lil sis? Would you like that?”

Its subtle but a dark scent, smokey and resinous with an undertone of something sweet- you swear the fragrance goes right to your head, muddling dangerously with your mind that should be repulsed by his threat.

Instead you feel heat rising in your legs, in the muscles of your upper thighs as the first tendrils of your second orgasm in a row begin to unfurl in your lower abdomen.

“Answer me, slut.” Sukuna presses the button again and the vibrations increase yet another level, pulsing through your entire pussy and flooding your clit.

You clench your teeth and grip his arm tighter, forcing yourself to keep your face straight. “F-fuck Sukuna, yeah I do-”

Once again, you can hardly believe the words spilling from your lips- yet it's the truth. Just imagining his cock again had you spreading your legs slightly to feel the toy better.

He laughs lowly, pulling you tighter against his chest till you can feel the deep rumbles in them and an erection through the fabric of his pants. “Yeah? Want your little cunt stuffed with your big brother’s cum dripping out? Your little boytoy can eat it out later if he wants, just so he remembers his place….”

You bite your lip, on the precipice of cumming again when you catch your mom out of all people catching your eye through the bodies, and making her way towards you.

Your face pales and you do the only thing you can think of- stomp as hard as you can on Sukuna’s foot through his shoe while you suddenly thrash around to pull his hand out of the waist of your skirt behind the table.

His grip tightens, angering at your sudden movements. “Fuck’s wrong with y-”

“My mom’s coming, get that thing out of my panties,” you hiss as you try to create some more distance between your bodies. “Please,” you add, hoping he’ll work with you for once and not take this as an opportunity to execute one of the millions of sick ideas he probably has running through his head.

He looks at you for a second with a lazy grin before complying, quickly pulling the small toy out and slipping it back into his pocket, taking a step back as your mom rounds the corner of the table, leaving you in full view while you quickly wipe any remnants of tears on your face with your sleeve, hoping it didn't smear your eye makeup.

“Hey you guys, what are you doing hiding in this corner? Some of our guests want to meet you two, please come say hi.”

You try your best not to let the frustration paint itself on your face. “Yeah we’ll be there in a second. Just gonna grab another drink,” you reply shortly, hoping your cheeks aren’t too noticeably flushed while straightening out the hem of your top.

“Alright.” She nods before smiling up at Sukuna. “So glad you could make it by the way. I know you have some pretty crazy shifts, so thanks for making the time and coming. Instead of being difficult about it like someone…” She eyes you again. “You should really learn a thing or two from him, you know?”

Your jaw almost falls open and you nearly retort back before holding your tongue and tilting your chin towards the people your mom wanted you to come meet. “Looks like they’re waiting for you. We’ll be there in a moment.”

As your mom disappears into the crowd again, you turn to Sukuna who’s smirking in that way that makes your blood boil. “Don’t even fucking start.”

“Aw, is someone upset because she couldn’t cum?”

You cross your arms, shooting daggers with your eyes. “Give me the toy. You said it was for me, right?”

As inappropriate as it was, you were amazed that you’d never bothered to find out how good a sex toy actually felt. With it, maybe you wouldn’t yearn for Sukuna’s mouth as much.

He makes no move to pull it out. “Nah, don’t think so. You can cum with it, but only when I let you.”

You gaze down at his pocket, wondering if you could possibly snatch it and run away. Probably wouldn’t end well for you, you reason and decide against it. “You’re horrible.”

“Don’t pout, I’ll make it up to you some other time.” Sukuna straightens his shirt before pulling out a glass and a bottle to pour himself a drink. “Come on, let’s go before your mom comes back.”

taglist: @hishearttohave @latrotoxiins @beccaasposts

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hyoseong-ah · 16 days ago

Text

Nightingale (pt. 2)

Read pt. 1 and pt. 3

CW: stepcest, period sex (oral, fingering), noncon/dubcon, wounding? (fingering with nails), namecalling (princess, pet, slut, etc.), squirting, fem reader, degradation, modern noncurse au, lmk if i missed anything else WC: 4.5k as usual, 18+, mdni

Morning sunlight streams into the window as you bite into the toast smothered in anko. Both your parents have already left to go to work, leaving just you finishing your meal and Yuuji scarfing down his next to you. Sukuna still hasn’t shown himself, to your relief, but you hasten your chewing to disappear into your room before he possibly decides to make an entrance.

You were almost scared to return home after your date last night, but luckily you didn’t run into Sukuna when you got back around 11 and let yourself in.

The date itself was pretty decent, especially for a first one. He’d taken you to a trendy new conveyor belt sushi restaurant, the night filled with laughter and playful banter that almost made you forget about what had happened right before.

Almost.

Unfortunately the awareness of its proof in your panties ruined your first ever kiss at the end of the night, effectively putting a damper on things when they started to heat up and he’d invited you back to his dorm at uni. You had been preparing for this night, for this moment, but suddenly it felt uncomfortable as you became even more conscious of the urge to peel off your undergarments and scrub your skin.

So instead you politely declined, rambling on about how your parents expected you home or something. If he knew it was an excuse, luckily he didn’t mind and the drive to drop you home was still in good spirits.

If you blocked out all memories of Sukuna from yesterday, it was actually a pretty decent night.

You finish up your toast before moving onto the yogurt with chunks of fruit in it, just about to dive in when you hear his footsteps and make out the silhouette of his frame coming down the hallway.

Though your eyes are steadily trained on mixing the yogurt your body still tenses and the hammering in your chest urges you to leave.

“Good morning, Sukuna!” Yuuji greets his older brother with his usual sunny disposition that does nothing to ease the prickling on your skin.

You can feel Sukuna’s eyes boring into you.

“What’s left to eat?” Sukuna asks lazily, pulling out a chair in front of you and taking a seat.

His voice is the last straw and you keep your eyes cast downward as you slowly stand up, holding the open container of yogurt.

“Eggs, toast, yogurt, coffee, some fruits. You goin’ to work today?” Yuuji replies through a mouth full of food.

“I am.” To your dismay, Sukuna turns his head in your direction before you can sneak away. “And where are you going?”

You swallow. “I’m done with my food and I have some homework to catch up on….” you mumble.

“It's bad manners to get up while we’re still eating,” Sukuna chides you. “Besides aren’t you gonna tell us how your date went last night?”

Just like Sukuna probably intended, Yuuji perks up at the mention and looks curiously at you.

“Date? You went on a date? How’d it go?!” he asks excitedly.

You glare at Sukuna and that stupid smug grin on his face as you sit back down.

His nerve never ceases to astound you.

“It went fine. We got dinner at that new conveyor belt sushi place.” You spoon some of the yogurt into your mouth.

“No one cares about that.” Sukuna reaches over to pluck the yogurt from your hands despite your protests. “So did you fuck or not?”

You turn pink as Yuuji pipes up. “Sukuna, give her yogurt back and stop asking her questions like that.”

The question wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t know as well as Sukuna did that he’d effectively made sure you couldn’t have sex with your date last night even if you wanted to.

“The princess can get a new one.” He finishes your yogurt in about two bites before setting the empty container back in front of you. “Yes or no?”

“We didn’t. Can you leave me alone now?” You snap a bit more sharply than you’d intended, causing Sukuna’s eyes to slant as you stand up to get another yogurt from the fridge.

“Watch your tone.”

“Let it go, Sukuna. Besides you’re being a jerk anyways, what did you expect?” Yuuji defends you with pure intentions but still you feel a bit embarrassed as you remember what Sukuna said last night about his “white-knighting”.

He probably thinks of you as sheltered, soft. Unable to defend yourself.

The thought irritates you more than it should and you promptly dismiss yourself after retrieving the yogurt, making your way past Sukuna and into your room.

The next day your date texts you asking if you want to go out again and while you do, luck just has it that your period starts, so you schedule for next week instead.

Two days pass by and between schoolwork, classes, and staying holed up in your room in pain, you don’t see Sukuna all that much.

That night you’re curled up on your bed in fetal position, unable to fall asleep thanks to the constant pinching in your belly. Not even the hot shower you took seemed to help, neither did the 500 mg of ibuprofen.

You’re considering if you have it in you to get up and make some hot herbal tea when you hear the motorbike pull up to the house before shutting off and the front door unlocking.

Sukuna must be back from his shift.

You check the time on your phone. It’s a bit after 1 am and with the quietness in the house you know both your parents and Yuuji would already be asleep right now, leaving only Sukuna awake and prowling about.

No tea tonight.

You curl up tighter as another especially sharp cramp pierces through your gut and you feel warm blood leak out into your pad, praying sleep will fall over you soon.

A few minutes later your hear footsteps coming up the stairs, your breath involuntarily pausing, waiting for him to walk by your room.

Except he doesn’t.

The doorknob starts to turn and your mind races at what he could possibly want or be doing at this hour. You bury your face into your pillow facing your back towards the door, shutting your eyes as you hear it open.

For a few seconds everything is perfectly still and you think he might have left.

Then, an abrupt peculiar sensation makes you jump- long fingers on your scalp, stroking through the length of your hair. The feeling makes your stomach curl and you snap your head around to tell him to fuck off.

“What do you want?” you hiss, biting your lip to hold in a wince as another brutal cramp rips through you.

The only light in your room is the pale moonlight streaming in, illuminating just the contours of his face, the rest of his figure cloaked in shadows and barely visible where he's standing by your bed.

“I knew you weren’t sleeping.”

“Get out. I don’t want to deal with you right now.” The pain in your abdomen made you more irritable than usual, growling at him as you turn your face back into the covers.

You feel the bed dip under his weight, gasping as your face is grabbed by the chin and twisted back to look at him. “And who do you think you’re talking to? You’re feeling brave tonight, huh?”

Another cramp. You stay silent, hoping he’ll leave if you don’t provoke him further.

Instead, he lets go of your face to swat you lightly. “Move.”

You want to deny him but between the pain and your fear of angering him you do as he says, still facing away as you shift to the other side of the bed. Sukuna crawls in beside you under the sheets, scooting close as he lies down and pulls you in so that he’s spooning you.

Your chest is fluttering at the warmth of his body against yours more than you’d like and you conveniently blame it on the state of your menstrual hormones.

“You know how much I hate that bratty attitude of yours…” he sighs against the back of your neck, rubbing his lips along as the hand on your hip pulls you even tighter.

“How was work?” you ask quietly, shifting tactics and hoping you can loosen the building heat by asking him normal and mundane questions.

“Fine. It’s a nice restaurant, the kind you take a girl to for a first date.” He lifts his head a bit while his fingers begin trailing the length of your body, down over the tops of your thighs and back up to skim across your clothed abdomen. “Not a conveyer sushi belt place.”

“I liked it, okay? It was a good date,” you huff a bit defensively. “Besides I don’t think any college student has the money for kaiseki as a first date.”

Sukuna offers no response apart from a slight chuckle, though his fingers are growing bolder in their exploring in a way that has your breathing quickening slightly.

You tense as another cramp seizes your uterus but the pain is quickly overshadowed by the feeling of his hand abruptly slipping under the hem of your top and reaching up to cup your breast.

“What are you doing?” you whisper as your own hand comes up to pull his off while you shoot a worried glance to the door to your room still ajar behind you. “Wh-what if mom or dad…or Yuuji see-”

“So what if they do?” Sukuna nips playfully at the shell of your ear. “I’m just helping my little sister fall asleep…”

You suppress a shiver down your spine, disgust at his disturbing words settling down into unwanted sparks in your gut. Your hand loosens its grip on his and just as soon he squeezes your sore breast, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

“Could you at least close the door? In case someone walks by?” you plead quietly as another one of his arms slip under you and wrap around to grope your chest with both hands. “Ow, ah-”

“Close the door? Why?” His fingers are kneading the tender tissue of your tits, making you wince. “What do you plan on doing with me?” he teases, pressing his hips up into your ass to make sure you can feel his hardening dick. “Gonna jerk me off with your panties again?”

Heat blooms across your cheek, once again caught between yourself and the repulsion that's slowly morphing into a dark desire, only encouraged by the pads of his fingers tracing your areolas, nipples hardening under the touch.

Its just your hormones you repeatedly try to reason with yourself again and almost on cue, your uterus contracts again. The cramps along with the pain from your aching breasts being massaged and the heat infecting your brain is all too much.

“S-stop, Sukuna…it hurts,” you say hoping it’ll convince him to ease up at the very least as you squirm against his hands groping your chest.

“You’re so fucking fragile. I’m barely even squeezing them.”

“Well they’re already sore because I’m-” You hesitate for some reason. “..on my period.”

His movements pause and relief washes over you.

“I know.”

And just like that your stomach is up in knots again. “Huh?”

Suddenly the heat of his body against yours dissipates as he gets up from the bed before peeling back the layers of your blanket.

You’re about to protest when you catch a look at his expression, a wolfish grin plastered on his face that's visible even in the faint moonlight.

Before you know it his hands are gripping your ankles, pulling you unceremoniously to the edge of the bed where he kneels by it on the ground.

“Sukuna? Stop it, what are you doing?” you whisper frantically trying to keep your voice quiet despite the growing panic at being unable to do anything but flail about helplessly in the sheets.

“Consider this another gift, princess. I’m gonna show you how a real man eats so that my little sis never settles for anything less from another man.”

“Eats? You can’t possibly mean-”

Oh, but clearly that's exactly what he means, judging from how he's gripping the waistband of your pajamas to tug them down.

“Sukuna. I’m on my period, please not now, please can’t we do this after or something?” You realize you’re already crying as you desperately try to reason with him. “You won’t like the taste, that’s just gross-”

More tears well in your eyes as you watch his sinister smile grow wider as he drinks in your disheveled state, begging him not to. “You clearly don’t know my tastes then.”

He yanks down your pajamas, dragging the waistband of your panties with it as you twist to stop him from taking them off.

He growls in agitation. “Stop making this difficult or I swear to god I’ll get scissors and cut these clothes off you.”

You still, meeting his eyes that somehow look redder than ever right now, almost as if they're glowing.

He smiles as he pulls your clothing all the way down your legs, removing them and tossing your pajamas along with your panties and the pad on it to the side. “There you go. Just lay back and let your big brother make you feel good, okay?”

You shiver at his words, aware he's trying -and succeeding- at making you as uncomfortable about this as possible.

Cool air brushes over your wet pussy as he spreads your legs to hook them over his shoulders, drawing your awareness to your vulnerable position. You screw your eyes shut so you don’t have to see his as he drinks in the sight of your bare and bleeding cunt. It's your first time being seen with anyone, the feeling of being so exposed like this making a potent mixture of humiliation and shame burn in you.

And you thought it couldn’t get worse than the last time.

“Open your eyes.”

Your lids flutter open at his voice, unexpectedly soft, though it still holds a firm edge.

“There you go.”

You grip your sheets as you watch him lean in, realizing your clit is already throbbing in anticipation at the feel of his tongue.

The flat of it presses against your clit and you gasp.

The feeling is even better than you’d imagined - soft, wet and hot. Not to mention you'd forgotten entirely about that piercing on his tongue- you'd never really noticed it till now and as the cold metal ball catches against your clit you realize the reason he probably got it.

Your fingers twist the sheets into fists as he licks a long stripe up from your sopping hole back up to your clit, before latching his open mouth all the way on your pussy.

His eyes are piercing through you as you hold your breath when you feel a tongue slithering into your entrance, tasting the mixture of blood and juices. A low groan vibrates from his throat as his lids relax and his tongue slides back out. He pulls away, dark red staining his lips as they curl into a smirk.

“Oh, you taste even better than I expected.” He leans closer, voice dropping with some sinister intent. “So good that I think you deserve to know what your cunt tastes like too.”

Your eyes widen as he bends in over you. “No-”

Wet lips are already crashing onto yours, swallowing your denial as his tongue pries its way through your lips and teeth. The sharp taste of yourself coats your tastebuds all at once - salty, warm, and metallic - making you cringe and try to break the kiss, if you could even call it that.

Sukuna’s tongue is pervasive, exploring the crevices of your mouth with a domineering harshness before finally pulling away, snapping tiny gossamer threads of saliva between the two of you.

“That was ….disgusting. What is wrong with you?!” you pant, trying to scrape off the taste from your tongue against your teeth.

He giggles, a low sound that makes your hairs stand up. “I’m gonna teach you to love ‘disgusting’.”

You look at him in horror before peeling away your eyes to the door frame, listening closely to make sure the house was still quiet.

You would never be able to recover from being caught in this position.

Sukuna lowers himself and grips your hips, latching his mouth back onto your pussy and staring directly up into your eyes as his tongue begins to lap at your damp folds, dragging through them to collect all the juices and swallow. You watch with wide eyes, completely enraptured by this incredible sensation, wondering how you’d gone without it for so long.

You’re already barely holding yourself together when he starts licking your swollen clit, the hard metal of his piercing rubbing over and over against it, blending deliciously with the warmth of his wet tongue.

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to hold in the feverish moans that are rising in your chest. He notices, narrowing his eyes and increasing his pace, sucking and caressing the sensitive bundle of nerves till you’re biting down on your palm, though small whimpers still make their way out.

Every small flick of his tongue feels like jolts of lightning from your most sensitive spot and you don’t even realize you’re lifting your hips up higher, pressing your pussy into his mouth for more.

He stops for a second, removing his mouth to eye the wet mess he’d already made of your cunt. The sudden dissolving of pleasure from his tongue is almost painful, eliciting a frustrated noise from you as you look up at him desperately.

“Feel good?” he asks, obviously taunting you like he didn’t already know the answer and just wanted to hear you say it.

“Fucking— yes, it feels good,” you grit out, impatiently trying to lift your pussy back to his lips. “Keep going.”

“What’s the magic word?”

You clench your jaw, the pure neediness of your cunt straining against the agitation bubbling on your face. "Are you fucking seriou-"

You’re not given a chance to even try and fight back when he parts his lips ever so slightly and breathes out, the tendrils of his breath cool against your wet folds as it almost spells out how swollen your clit is, coated in sticky slick and saliva.

The feather-light sensation is too much, snapping the last threads of control leaving you thinking only through your agonizingly aroused cunt.

“Oh f-fuck, please Sukuna,” you whine. “Please make me c-cum.”

He chuckles and you sigh in relief at the addicting heat of his lips clamping back around your sex, watching intently as you begin to unravel with every careful move of his tongue.

Lewd, sloppy noises fill the room and normally you’d be nervous about someone possibly waking up and hearing him slurping your pussy, but you’re too far gone, squeezing your thighs around his head instead.

You watch him through the tears filling your eyes as you feel your orgasm begin to build up - slowly and heavily. He looks like nothing short of a monster, hungrily devouring you and the fresh blood leaking out, the sight of his head between your thighs and on your cunt only pushing your orgasm towards you with increasing intensity.

And before you know it you’re falling, drowning in the waves of pleasure rippling through you so strongly that your mouth is open in awe, soft moans burying into the flesh of your palm with tears rolling down your cheeks. Sukuna doesn’t let up, leading you through your orgasm with his mouth and even when you feel yourself start to come down, his pace and pressure don’t decrease.

“S-Sukuna, I came.” You try to pull your hips away but he grips you tightly, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

Even with his mouth occupied you can see the glint in his eyes, smirking as his tongue continues its relentless assault on your sensitive clit. He changes up the pace and you whimper as he begins sucking on it, overstimulation drawing fresh tears at your lash line.

“Sukuna, ‘s too much - ah - , s-stop.” You once again reflexively try to draw your hips back from discomfort but he tightens his grip with an almost painful pressure, pulling you closer into his mouth till you feel the bolts of pleasure igniting again at your clit.

His tongue goes back to stimulating it with increasing intensity as you feel your second orgasm begin to build.

“Oh god-” You tilt your pelvis up as the heat grows and grows until your fingers find their way into his hair, gripping the messy strands as you lift your hips and pull his head as tightly as you can into your pussy. “Fuck, fuck, oh my fucking-”

Your second orgasm crashes into you abruptly and without warning, leaving you breathless after it dissipates. His tongue slows down into slow languid strokes before stopping entirely and unlatching his mouth while you catch your breath.

Sukuna’s face is shining, covered in juices and blood that you can feel running down from your entrance to your ass.

Your hole clenches, the need for your g-spot to be stimulated growing imminent now that you were sufficiently prepped from not one but two clitoral orgasms.

His eyes drag down to the movement and he smirks, licking his lips to clean them off. “Need something, pet?”

You try to close your thighs, only making him spread them wider as your post-nut clarity washes over you like a bucket of icy water being dumped on you.

“No. Let me go before I fucking scream for mom and dad.”

You can take care of yourself with your own fingers after he’s gone.

That smug look on his face doesn’t budge at your threat.

“You’re not gonna do that,” he tells you coolly.

“Fucking let me go-”

You’re about to try and kick him in the face when he slides a finger into your dripping entrance, curling it up to massage that spongy area of tissue that makes your mind go blank and all the words melt off of your tongue in favor of an involuntary moan.

You look at him through glazed eyes, mouth parted as he rubs into your flesh, a new type of pleasure blooming and taking hold.

“You’re such a stupid slut,” he sneers, rubbing a finger against your sensitive walls before harshly shoving in another finger. “Don’t ever try those empty threats with me, you dumb little girl.”

“Ahh” You bite down on your lip, ashamed at how you've melted into putty under his touch till the point that even his demeaning words are only fueling the pleasure.

“I bet your fingers never felt as good as mine do, huh?” With the way his fingers are positioned, you can start to feel the edges of his nails scraping against the tender flesh.

“N-no, oh fuck,” you babble mindlessly, all composure falling away with the steady pressure of his fingers against your walls being exacerbated by the stinging of those dark nails inside you. “No they don’t, Sukuna-”

“You like this you sick little slut?” His fingers begin pistoning up into you at a new angle, the sudden change of pace causing fresh moans to spill out of you, the wet sounds of crimson-stained fluids so messy and erratic you already know these sheets will be permanently stained.

“Y-yes, -nhgh- love it, I love it-”

Love it?

You were entirely out of your mind, even Sukuna knew by now if it wasn’t already clear from your watery and dazed eyes, the sweat clinging to your skin, how every muscle in your body was tensed up, the amount of wetness coating his fingers that couldn’t be just blood.

“This is really all it took for you to give in? Fuck, your virgin cunt must’ve been so miserable.” He curves his fingers up even more against your gummy walls now plushy and inflamed from how hard he’s finger fucking you with nails cutting themselves into the flesh. “Say it. Say that you’re pathetic.”

“Ah-” You hold in a yelp, vision blurry and eyes stinging from tears, only able to feel his fingers thrusting aggressively into you, the pleasure threaded with pain and a brand new wave of humiliation at his biting words as if you weren’t already mortified by how much your body apparently loved this. “P-please, Sukuna-”

“Say it.” He spits on your pussy, the wet wad of spit catching on your clit, making you whimper at the visceral sensation. “Say you’re my pathetic little plaything.”

His sadistic gaze burns into you and with the building pressure between your legs you feel like you’re being compelled.

“I’m your p-pathetic, -ah- little plaything S-Sukuna,”

“Yeah? Still wanna call Mom and Dad? Have them see you cumming all over your big brother’s fingers like a filthy bitch?”

The words are like a match striking something in you and you moan so loudly that Sukuna leans over to clamp his other palm over your mouth, so close you can see the faint striated pattern in his blazing irises.

“Go on, then. Show me how much you love this.”

With that, hot liquid rushes out of you as you cum, seeping uncontrollably from your walls and gushing around his fingers, spilling out as he continues to drive them into you, juicing every last drop of your orgasm.

You come down, his hand over the lower half of your face lifting when your muffled moans become pants for air. Every muscle in your body is tired from being tensed and you bite your lip from the sharp pain when he pulls his fingers out from your abused cunt. Your walls are tighter than before, inflamed and puffy from the battering of his fingers. There’s a dull soreness, but at least the pain in your womb has subsided for now.

Sukuna lifts his fingers, admiring the mess of smeared blood, fluids, and tiny stringy bits of soft flesh clinging onto his nails. You gulp as he looks at you, scared he’s going to put them in your mouth to make you taste yourself.

“Please, don’t.”

He flashes you a cocky smile, clearly pleased at the apprehension he’s instilled in you before licking his fingers clean. You watch in repulsion, suddenly aware of the mess that's left on your skin and sheets and slide your legs back down to close yourself up from his view.

And of course with it was a growing disgust with what had just happened and how much you’d liked it.

Loved it.

You cringe, unable to be in Sukuna’s presence after humiliating yourself and coming undone like that in front of him, at his hands.

“I n-need to cleanup…” you mutter, keeping your eyes trained on the dark ceiling above you, voice breaking as the weight of everything begins to come down on you.

“Good luck with that,” he replies indifferently as he stands. “You’re definitely gonna need new sheets.”

Your heart tightens as you feel him moving around the side of the bed to stand beside you and bend down.

“Goodnight, sis.” He presses a mockingly chaste kiss on your forehead with the lips that had just been eating out your pussy, leaving your stomach lurching and wanting to gag as he pulls away and walks out the door, once again leaving you in both physical and mental shambles.

359 notes · View notes

hyoseong-ah · 16 days ago

Text

Nightingale

read pt. 2 here

CW: stepcest, noncon/dubcon, f!reader, dacryphilia, handjob, playing with panties, biting, degradation, slapping, cumplay?, reader is a bit insecure, modern au, lmk if i missed anything else WC: 4.3k 18+, MDNI a/n: props to anyone that knows the title's reference

You sit in your room, mouth open in a small O as you concentrate on meticulously applying a few finishing touches of mascara to the ends of your lashes. The warm light of the lamp illuminates the wash of color on your cheeks and lips, a floral chypre perfume hanging redolent in the air.

Careful, spread the lashes evenly-

Your door swings open and in bursts your menace of a stepbrother Sukuna, causing you to lose your steadfast focus and smear some of the mascara on your upper lid.

Immediately you feel rage snap in you, gritting your teeth and grabbing an earbud to pour some micellar water on it to try and erase the black marks as cleanly as you can.

“Hey,” he greets you as he saunters across your room and sinks onto the mattress of your bed like it's his own. “So what’s my dumb little sis getting all dolled up for? Or should I say who?”

You take a deep breath, focusing on soaking the earbud in the makeup remover. He's just trying to rile you up as usual.

“Stepsister,” you correct him calmly. “And that’s none of your business.”

“Do you want me to come over there and slap you?” He's lounging across your bed as he casually threatens you, arms crossed behind his head.

You wince, not wanting to find out whether he's bluffing or not.

Truth was, you're intimidated by him.

Your parents might be blind to it (routinely giving the three of you sappy lectures on how it didn’t matter now that you were “step” siblings and that you should consider each other as blood), but both Sukuna and Yuuji know.

Yuuji being the good sibling he is, takes it upon himself to shield you from Sukuna’s antics whenever possible. But with the end of the semester nearing, he's been busier with classes lately, leaving you alone here with his older brother.

“I have a date,” you sigh. “So if you could please just not bother m-”

“’Sukuna, please leave me alone!’” he mocks your voice before laughing meanly, a deep sound that threatens to heat your cheeks a little more than you’d like to admit. “Shut up. God, you’re such a spoiled fucking brat.”

You purse your lips, trying to focus on dabbing away the mascara and keeping his words from stinging you.

But they do, maybe because you know that it's somewhat true. After all, it's the very reason why Sukuna feels entitled to the room you have to yourself while he has to share one with Yuuji. It's not your fault you're treated as such, and while you are grateful you do also feel a bit guilty.

“Well at least my stupid little sister’s finally getting some play,” he laments, sitting up over the edge of your bed and stretching. “Twenty-one and still a virgin…as a girl too.”

Whatever that means.

You finish removing the smeared mascara and sit back, hoping the warm lighting and painted blush will conceal the hints of pink creeping into your cheeks.

“How would you even know if I was a virgin or not?” you try to defend yourself. But a falter in your voice when you catch his large frame making its way towards you in the mirror gives away your trepidation.

You weren’t like Yuuji or Sukuna, a bit quieter and shyer than the two of them. You especially couldn’t live up to Sukuna who was, unfortunately, actually quite good-looking and knew it too - hooking up with random girls every other weekend and coming back home disheveled, covered in the smell of women’s perfume or with lipstick stains on his skin.

You feel outclassed, perhaps part of the reason you’d decided to put yourself a bit more out there and had landed a date with some funny mutual you’d met in college.

“Oh, come on.” Sukuna kneels beside you and it takes all your willpower not to flinch when he runs darkly painted nails through the locks of your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. “Its so embarrassingly obvious you’ve never been with a man. I mean look at how stiff you are with me right next to you right now.”

He's too close to you for your comfort right now, and you catch your body instinctively tensing away. You drop your eyes, unable to meet his in the mirror. They're the most peculiar shade of brown you’ve ever seen -closer to red if anything- and if you don't control yourself, you’d get lost looking into them a bit too long.

“I need to brush my hair,” you mutter, hoping to loosen some of the air constricting itself around your chest. “I’ll be late.”

This was a lie, of course. You’d begun getting ready so you could take your time and still be fully ready by the time your date came to pick you up at 8. It's currently only 6:45.

You reach for the wooden brush on the dresser but Sukuna catches your wrist before you can grab it.

“Let me.”

His tone is low and velvety but you know it's more of a demand than an offer from the glint in his eyes.

Did he always look so…hungry?

“I wanna brush my little sister’s pretty hair.”

A lump had formed itself in your throat that you now try to force down. You're not stupid; you've damn well caught onto the fact that he's mocking you, that this act is just an imitation of gentle affection for what would normally be a wholesome act between two siblings.

“You...um…you really don’t have to…”

Sukuna just chuckles as he tightens his grip on your wrist and stands, forcing you to rise to your legs alongside him as he drags you to the edge of the bed in front of the mirror.

“I don’t have to do anything. I only do what I want.” He sits and pulls you down unceremoniously onto his lap before you can resist. “Do whatever I want, and take whatever I want.”

You stifle a small gasp, heart in your mouth at the uncomfortable position you're suddenly in- between his spread legs.

Unfortunately, he feels you trying to stand back up and delivers a swift swat to the side of your thigh. “Sit properly.”

You oblige, more out of intimidation than anything else, that gnawing feeling in your gut only growing as you position yourself on his firm thigh. The faint scent of his cologne curls into your nostrils, a cold woody masculine scent mingling with the sweet fragrance of your own perfume that clings to your skin and hair.

This isn’t weird…right? He's only brushing your hair, much like your mother used to do when you were younger.

“Start at the ends,” you tell him, hoping to get through this ordeal as quickly as possible.

Your hair doesn’t have too many knots anyway, it's just freshly washed and a little disarrayed.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” And as if to prove a point, he drags the brush down all the way from the crown of your skull. “Just sit there and look pretty, okay?”

You shift uncomfortably, mentally cursing yourself out for being so stiff. Why were you so uneasy?

You don’t want to entertain the thought that he's getting you worked up- not before a date, and most definitely not because of your stepbrother.

Either you have more tangles in your hair than you’d thought or Sukuna just really doesn’t care to make the process of combing it painless. He guides the brush through with firm strokes, going straight through rougher or more matted areas, causing you to squirm on his lap as your scalp stings with the pull of strands.

“Ow! Sukuna that hurts, can you please be more gentle? You’re gonna rip out all my hair,” you whine trying to claw at the brush, earning another slap to your thigh, harder than the last. “Hey!”

“Aww, it hurts does it?” he coos, voice dripping with taunting pity. “Poor baby. I’ll make sure it hurts a lot worse if you don’t stay still.” He emphasizes his point with a particularly harsh yanking of the bristles through a small knot near your neck.

“Why are you being like this?”

“What do you mean?” The major knots are mostly out now, but you still have to suppress some whimpers as he drags the comb through patches of remaining tangles. “I just want my little sis to look good for her first ever date. Maybe after getting a taste of some dick you won’t be so much of a stuck-up prissy bitch anymore.”

You stiffen at his words, crass and shameless as ever. “Huh? Is that what you think of me?”

“You really wanna know all the things I think of you?”

“No, I’m sure I don’t,” you say quickly, shifting your hair so that it covers the burning tips of your ears.

Finally the long drags of the brush come to an end, and to his credit your hair does feel silky despite the pain you’d been put through.

Sukuna stares at you for a second before breaking into a smirk and pushing you off his lap like he didn’t seat you there in the first place.

“What are you wearing?”

It would be a fair question if you weren’t already dressed in the outfit you’d chosen- a black corset top and an elegant laced skirt that dropped till your ankles, complete with a sheer black cardigan.

“Well…this is what I’m wearing,” you mutter uncertainly, suddenly unsure of your outfit of choice and doubting yourself.

Were your clothes too formal? Did you put on too much makeup? What if you bored your date?

It hits you that this is the first time you're ever going out with a guy and suddenly you can feel your nerves fraying.

You hate it, but you are inexperienced just like how Sukuna always agonizes you for.

Sukuna’s smirk grows, sharp canines proudly showing themselves off. “I meant underneath, you dumb girl.”

Your brain short circuited as you try to process what he's talking about. “Wha-”

Sukuna abruptly hooks a finger at the waistband of your skirt and tugs it downwards to reveal the new pair of lacy blank panties you’d saved just for tonight.

“Ohh, scandalous. I like those,” he purrs.

Your skin burns as his salacious eyes rove across the fabric before you finally pull out of his grasp and jerk your skirt back into place, a familiar pinch in your sinuses warning you of the tears that are threatening to well up in humiliation.

To make matters worse, he's unmoved and cold as ever. “Too bad such sexy lingerie is wasted on a girl with no experience. That poor fucker doesn’t know what he’s in for.”

“We’re not even going to have sex!”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. You don’t wear panties like those for yourself- I bet even your bra matches.”

….How did he know that? Were you really that predictable?

“Stop it!” You tried to blink away droplets that began to blur the corners of your vision. "What the hell is your problem, Sukuna?"

“You’ve never even seen a dick in real life, have you?”

In real life.

Well, he got you there. Again.

His tactic had worked, leaving you to feel stupid and inadequate, especially when confronted about it by Sukuna and put to shame.

Tears finally cascade and you quickly turn your cheek, desperately wiping so he won’t catch them.

But it's too late.

“Aww, are you crying?” he asks with what might’ve sounded like concern if it weren’t for the wicked pleasure painted all over his face. “Of course you are, that’s all you know how to do. Cry and whine pathetically now that there’s no Yuuji to white knight you. You’re so fucking pathetic.”

The pressure in your head builds painfully until you can no longer contain it and you turn away, rubbing your nose on your sleeve and crying even more once you realize your makeup is probably ruined, only adding to the mess.

It's stupid, he's just saying mean shit on purpose, but god does it burn in all the right spots.

Having had enough, you twist away and bolt towards the open door so that you can cry out the rest of your tears away from his unbearable presence.

But somehow his arm's wrapping around you as you’d barely made it through the doorframe, and lifting you up over his shoulder.

“Don’t you dare walk away when I’m talking to you. Where the fuck are your manners?”

Teardrops continue to roll down your cheeks as he carries you back into your room and drops you on the ground before sitting back on the bed.

“What…what do you want from me?” you choke out, looking up at him from where you're crumpled on the floor. “You’ve ruined my date before it even started. Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted?”

Sukuna peers down at you over the bridge of his nose, the black tattoos framing his face seeming sharper than before.

“Take off your panties.”

Your blood goes cold, face draining of color before the heat returns even more intensely, burning at your cheeks.

“Are you…you’re not serious…” You let out a high laugh, sure that this is another sick joke he's playing to further torment you.

Your stomach sinks when his gaze only hardens, taking on an unsettling, almost predatory quality.

“Do I not look serious to you?”

The air feels like it's rapidly leaving the room, and suddenly there isn’t enough oxygen in your lungs, the last of your breath stuck inside your throat.

He sighs. “I won’t ask again.”

You scramble to your feet, anger now beginning to surge through you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? This isn’t funny. I’m gonna tell mom and da-”

Within the blink of an eye he gets up and a crack cuts through the room in time with a sharp stinging across your cheek. You stare at him in shock through wide glossy eyes, heat blooming across your skin where his palm had connected with it.

You’ve never felt so disrespected, so demeaned. One would only dare lay hands on another like that if they considered them less than human.

It reminds you of how your mother used to slap as you as a child.

And with how coldly he's glaring down at you with nothing but a glint of amusement in his piercing eyes, your tears overflow once again before you can stop them.

“Take. Them. Off.”

You try to steady your breathing despite the concoction of hurt, disgust and shame roiling in your stomach.

“You’re fucked in the head, you know that?” you spit as he sits back down and you bend to lift the length of your skirt, reaching for the hem of your panties.

“Better than you think, princess.” He flashes you a sleazy grin, watching intently as you drag the underwear down your legs, draping your skirt over your cunt to preserve some modesty.

Finally you lift one foot to remove it entirely, and then another. You bunch the cloth up in your fist before either of you can get a good look at it.

But Sukuna grabs your arm, pulling you harshly back into his lap like before but this time with his leg slotted between yours. You cringe inwardly at the feeling of your now bare pussy rubbing on the thin fabric against the shape of his leg through his sweats.

“What are you doing?” you question shakily, heart jumping erratically in your chest.

Sukuna snatches the bundled ball of your panties from your fingers in response, eliciting a yelp from you.

Your phone buzzes from where it lays on your dresser though the noise goes completely unheard by you.

“I’m gonna show you how to please a man, doll,” he breathes against your ear, depraved words dripping with something dark and ravaged enough to send a shiver down your spine. “My cock is gonna be the first one you ever touch.” He presses you further into his lap, pushing up something long and hard against your ass.

Your mind blanks again, fresh tears collecting at your lash line at the feel of his hard dick against you, a reminder that seals your fate of whatever's going to happen.

“I don’t want this…Please stop, I won’t tell mom, dad, or Yuuji, or anyone I swear. I’ll even give you my room, anything,” you try to bargain desperately though deep down you know it's all to no avail.

Sukuna only laughs and holds up your panties, unfurling them to inspect the crotch.

To your horror it's considerably damp, your slick reflecting in a thin sheen that tells you it's fresh too.

“Don’t want this, huh?”

You screw your eyes shut, too chagrined to even defend yourself or excuse it as just normal discharge.

Even though that has to be what it is, because there's no way in hell your body was actually turned on by this.

And you absolutely refuse to acknowledge the warmth slipping out from between your thighs right now.

“Hey.” He lightly slaps your cheek. “Open your eyes. No looking away.”

You force yourself to open your lids, immediately wanting to close them again when you find him lifting your underwear to his lips. He sticks out a tattooed tongue, dragging it through some of the wetness that you’d left on it.

“Oh fuck yes.” Sukuna lets out the most obscene groan of pleasure, and you blush as you feel his dick twitch beneath you.

It's fucked up and disgusts you to no end, yet you can’t deny the smallest sliver of pleasure seeing that he clearly likes your taste.

He quickly fumbles with the waistband of his pants, shifting them low enough to slip his erect cock out. You let out a small gasp at the sight of his manhood- it looks angry, with a fat weeping reddened tip and branches of veins that crawl up the sides of his massive girth.

And is that a tattoo around the base-

He laughs cockily at your reaction of being so taken aback by the sight that you’d temporarily stopped crying. “Like what you see lil sis?”

You open your mouth planning to say ‘no’, but nothing comes out except a stupid noise somewhere between a cry and a squeak.

“Jerk me off with your panties.”

“Huh?”

“What, are you dumb or something? Want me to say it in another language?”

The audacity of him to look at you like you're the problem here.

To be fair you do feel effectively stupefied right now, panicked eyes shifting between his dead serious face and leaking dick. “I don’t know how to…”

“Right, how could I forget what a prude my sister is,” Sukuna sighs.

He takes your panties, wrapping the damp part of the crotch around his shaft under his fist, and begins pumping.

Somewhere in the distance your phone buzzes again, but you're too absorbed in how he breathes out in relief at the pressure, eyes growing hazier before he stops again. “Like that. Your turn now.”

You swallow and without thinking, curl your fingers around the fabric to hold it in place as you grip his cock. You begin moving your hand up and down, copying his motions, a bit hesitantly at first.

His lips part, hot breath ghosting across your face as his breathing becomes heavier. “Fuck, do it harder.”

You tighten your grip and speed up your movements, reveling in the effect it has on him.

“Ahh, yes, that’s a good girl.” He grips the side of your thigh, nails digging into the soft flesh. “Keep this up and you might actually be worth something for once.”

You bite your lip, hating that you aren’t hating this whole thing as much anymore. Despising the way you feel more wetness seep out of you, nipples stiffening underneath your bra.

Sukuna’s large hands are roaming now, grabbing the flesh around your ass and trailing up to grope your chest through your clothes. He squeezes your right tit harshly, causing an involuntary moan to fall out of your mouth.

Oh god, you were really losing it now.

“Mmm, I wish those pretty noises were the only ones that came outta your mouth instead of that bitching and whining you do all the time.”

Even when he's in the middle of getting pleasured he's so mean to you, and you hadn’t even realized you're crying again as you jerk him off with increasing fervor.

You vaguely think about resigning to not let out another sound for his satisfaction but the idea is quickly snatched away from you before you can even consider it as he dips his head to place open lips on the hollow of your neck under your jaw.

A wet tongue runs across the surface before he starts hungrily sucking the delicate skin wherever he can, as sloppily as possible.

“You’re so lucky your first time doing something like this is with your older brother, don’t you think?” he murmurs against your skin. “You should thank me.”

“You’re disgusting,” you whimper, watching sticky precum continuously leak from his slit. “Ouch!”

He bites your neck, causing a sharp pinch where his teeth press painfully down into the skin, threatening to break it. “Say it, bitch.”

“Th-thank you…”

You squeal as he nips your neck again, even harder. “Thank you for what? And address me properly.”

Your cheeks burn even more if that's even possible, but the thin stretch of sore skin held between his teeth has the words rolling off your tongue. “Thank you for letting me jerk you off, big brother.”

You cringe at what you’d just said as his hips jerk up, thrusting his cock into your fist.

“Oh, you’re so welcome my darling little sister,” he drawls.

Sukuna lifts his head and you steal a glance at his drunken face. The look on it has your own pussy reflexively clenching around nothing, against his leg. You quickly shift, praying he didn’t feel the movement, but of course,

“Even your poor little pussy’s begging for my cock right now. Should I give her what she needs?”

You draw in a breath as your stomach flips, about to panic when the sound of a car pulling up into your driveway gives you something different to freak out over instead.

“Sukuna, I think…I think my date’s here…” You slow your movements to reach for your phone, now registering the buzzing that had been coming from it earlier.

But he wraps his own hand around yours and squeezes, rapidly picking up the pace and forcing you to jerk him off with increasing intensity. “You’ll just-fuck-have to make me cum even faster then, huh?”

Your eyes widen but you comply, trying to ignore your anxiety as you reach a thumb over and it grazes his tip, spreading the liquid that had collected there and dragging it down with the movements.

“Oh, shit-” He throws his head back as with a final thrust of his hips, his whole body tenses and suddenly ropes upon ropes of hot cum are spurting out, most of it catching on the inside of your panties he's wrapped around his tip.

After a few entrancing moments he stills and you look incredulously at the white that paints the fancy new pair of underwear you’d bought.

“Sukuna! I just got these-”

“Wear them.” He holds them up to you, black lace now a stained, dirtied mess.

“What?”

“Seriously, are you hard of hearing or something? I said wear them. Don’t wanna keep your date waiting, do you?”

“Sukuna…” you plead through a new wave of tears, unable to even look at the soiled panties now.

“Keep crying and I’ll get hard again. Which you’ll have to take care, by the way.”

You don’t bother to wipe your tears, just letting them fall as you snatch your underwear from him and stand to hastily slip it back on. The sensation of his drying seed against your folds sends a shudder through you, the liquid cool and tacky now.

It feels fucking filthy.

Even dirtier when you think of how you’ll be wearing his cum stains as you sit across from your date in a nice restaurant, realizing that there's no chance you could show them off now even if you wanted to.

You can’t stand to face Sukuna, the most lecherous grin wiped across his face at you trying to collect yourself after the ruined state he’s left you in.

Your phone rings and you quickly pick it up, the call from your date just like you’d expected.

“Hey! I don’t know if you saw my messages but I came to pick you up a bit earlier than expected, if that’s alright.”

You look at the time. 7:30.

You turn away from Sukuna and clear your throat, trying to sound as lighthearted as possible. “Oh, sorry I was in the shower. It's alright, just give me five and I’ll be out, okay- ah-”

You stifle a yelp as you feel a large hand suddenly shoved into the waist of your skirt, long fingers pressing against your mound to rub the dirtied fabric against your cunt, smearing his cum along your damp skin.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes!” you say a little too quickly, stomach twisting at how he's touching you while you're on the phone with the man you're about to go out with. “I’ll be out.” You quickly hang up as Sukuna’s hand slips back out from under your skirt.

Your cheeks burn in shame as you turn towards him, wanting to say something, anything, to Sukuna who’s already tucked back into his pants and heading for the door. But it'ss all too much and you end up remaining utterly silent in your overwhelmed state.

He stops by you, giving you an almost endearing pat to the head with a shit-eating grin. “Have fun, lil sis.”

With that, you're left alone in your room, like nothing had even happened.

516 notes · View notes

hyoseong-ah · 16 days ago

Text

Prologue

cw: angst, blood, murder, mc dies, possible dubcon, wounding, mentions of religion/slightly religious themes (more so to do with "purity"), heian era au, decapitation, corruption, mentions of sex/sexual activities, sadism, manipulation, toxic relationship, mdni

wc: 2.6k

a/n: so this is the quick prologue i wrote up a bit of time ago to help me flesh out an idea for a story that revolves around reader reincarnating in a modern au with a connection to sukuna, sort of as a vessel, maybe more like a haunting... this is written in third person but the actual fic would be written from second person pov, like a typical reader insert

A renowned clan, revered for their spiritual bonds and sacred techniques, which stood as protectors against the hordes of cursed spirits that ravaged the land, shielding its people from their relentless destruction.

Their shrine's connection to one of the most powerful sorcerer clans, made it central to a complex web of regional politics, only heightening the family's prestige.

From peasants to royalty, pilgrims journeyed to the shrine they had safeguarded for centuries, seeking purification from cursed afflictions or blessings for protection against malevolent entities and misfortune.

What a joke, Sukuna thought it all was.

Humans and the way they worshipped these pathetic non-existent gods, when he existed.

So just to prove a point, he stormed the lands they owned in a five day long slaughtering spree, leaving a trail of mutilated corpses and the stench of blood in his wake.

Sanctity would not save them, neither could any other sorcerer thrown his way.

And when he learned that the clan had two daughters, things got even better. He offered them a deal, that in exchange for one of the young women from their bloodline he would leave their territories and their people alone.

They agreed, offering up the oldest girl only a few days after she had turned twenty-two.

Every deity does not care for humanity— in the age of gods, sacrifices and offerings were made as frequently to keep them at bay as they were to draw them near.

This was precisely what the clan was hoping to achieve when they gave her to him.

Her family adorned her in the finest silks, whispering assurances that it was a great honor to be chosen—that her sacrifice would not be in vain, that the afterlife would reward her in ways this world never could.

She was bathed in fragrant waters, purified of earthly taint, silken hair bound with a vivid mizuhiki, delicate feet slipped into black lacquered geta sandals.

Such meticulous preparation just to propitiate the King of Curses with an offering that everyone silently understood would be ruined, ravaged, by the demon.

From the moment his gaze fell upon her—her figure draped in a flowing white kosode and crimson hakama, timid eyes lowered yet unable to resist flickering toward his aberrant form, betraying a smoldering curiosity—he knew he wanted to sink his claws into her, to stain her delicate skin with bloodied fingerprints.

And so, he did.

She hid herself at first beneath the mask of chastity, the one she'd been taught to wear her entire life. A mask that buried whatever deep and ugly desires she was told to suffocate, locked away behind the illusion of purity. She bound herself to the chains of who she was expected to be, suffocating under the weight of devotion to a self imposed upon her.

Yet beneath that pristine facade, a fissure began to form— something ugly and raw, desperate to break free, yet so minute it was likely unnoticed even by her.

But he saw it—saw her vulnerability—and turned it into a game, slowly chipping away at her walls with the kind of ruthless patience that made her heart ache and her body tremble.

She was stubborn, desperately clinging onto that mask like it would save her, so he made her flesh worship him when she refused to.

Because try as she might, she couldn’t stop the arousal from dripping so sinfully between her thighs when he touched her like that for the first time, two large fingers eventually piercing through her untouched sex.

Sukuna found it humorous in a way, how she was calling out to her false gods the first time he took her in the garden, cool damp grass and fresh earth rubbing against her bare back while he took her virginity under the pale moon. Hot tears splashed from her eyes, a warm stream of liquids running down her thighs and ass- whether it was spit, her fluids, his precum, or her blood, she did not know.

Neither did she care as soon the cries of her old gods were replaced by the name of her new one- Sukuna.

She had never known herself, her identity smothered beneath the weight of duty and family expectations her whole life. But this impious hunger he had awakened in her—it was the first thing in her existence that felt real.

To her, he was freedom, the door she had never seen, the escape from the miserable, hollow life she had been shackled to, a life that now seemed empty and meaningless.

Only he could understand the true depth of her perversion, perhaps even illuminate it as he drew it from her, delicate as spider's silk—tacky, glistening, tangled in the dark corners of her soul. With every touch, every pull, he wove her twisted desires into something new, something unrecognizable.

He became everything to her in this way, her salvation, her deliverance, pulled from the very grace he offered with his ruthless touch.

To him, she was nothing.

Just another toy to be discarded, another pawn in Sukuna’s game. He had suspected from the beginning that this little act of deference from such a powerful clan of sorcerers was nothing more than a calculated move, a ploy to manipulate and control. And she was just the latest piece to be used, nothing more than a fleeting distraction in his endless pursuit of power.

The amount of times he took her all over the estate were just a means to an end he told himself, that whenever he found his head between her thighs it was so she’d spill what he needed to know after hours of dragging her to the edge and pulling her back right before she could fall, till her muddled and fucked out mind was easily manipulated.

“You conjure up gods because you’re too afraid to judge yourself,” he told her as he pried open her lips and dipped fingers coated in her essence against her wet tongue, “Taste the filth you’re really made of…”

He could have torn her skin off in pieces, plucked the eyeballs from her skull to make her feed on them, but where was the fun in that?

It was far much more enjoyable seeing the war in her mind as she reluctantly sampled the bitter saltiness that wept from between her legs, ending up licking his fingers clean with an almost desperate fervor.

How over and over she tried so pathetically to fight years’ worth of unholy repressed desires, how she failed and the guilt that would storm her after each night she fell further into his grasp, reciting sutras and bathing in waters in a desperate attempt to cleanse herself each time he defiled her body.

He made her forget any allegiance she still had to them, and it didn’t take much.

Born without a cursed technique, with a hollow, shifting disposition that never quite fit anywhere, the family’s power was never meant for her. It would’ve gone to her younger sister anyway—bright, charismatic, the perfect heir, trained as a sorcerer, molded for their cause.

She confessed to Sukuna once, her mind still hazy from their encounter, her body heavy with post-coital bliss. She said it like a revelation, like a curse she was finally free to speak- that she had always known she was a mistake. The weight of her family’s duty had never claimed her, never made her feel tethered to their blood or their expectations.

She never truly felt it, not once.

Night after night, she shed the remnants of who she once believed herself to be, as Sukuna remade her in his image, carving out forgotten parts of herself—the parts untouched by any divine notion, the parts that had always been godless.

With each layer peeled away, a festering resentment toward her family grew, seeping deeper, feeding into the revelations of what she truly felt for them. The hollow sense of obligation she once harbored toward the clan that had cast her aside twisted into something much more visceral, more damning. Chains that had once bound her were rusted, broken, as her truth began to claw its way to the surface.

Unaware, the girl unwittingly drew closer to her own demise with every secret she surrendered about her family and the allied clans. Each confession, each discarded fragment of knowledge, was another step toward the inevitable, until there was nothing left to spill.

Of course she had suspected, at some point, that Sukuna was using her—at least partially—for the information she held. But the truth of it never fully sank in, drowned out by her desperate, naive hope that—however small, however twisted—that maybe, just maybe, there was some kind of meaning to the bond they’d forged. Even if it was merely a byproduct of his schemes, it had felt like something that could be real.

What a stupidly naive notion.

Soon there was nothing left to extract, no more purpose for her- she had outlived her usefulness. And so, one night, as the cold weight of finality settled in, he made the decision that it would be her last night.

He fucks her more mercilessly than he usually did, the two of them cumming who knows how many times.

As usual she's melted by the time he's drained, her fucked out mind yearning and aching for even the smallest shred of his affection afterward, like a starving runt clawing for the faintest drop of its mother's milk, trembling in its need.

"Could you please...lay with me, my Lord?" She askes softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

For once instead of denying the simple request immediately, he pauses to take a good look at her, at the sweat covering her bruised and marked flesh in a thin sheen, the tendrils of her hair sticking to her head, flushed cheeks and unfocused but satisfied eyes, his semen dripping obscenely from her bloated womb, mixing with her arousal in a small puddle on the silken sheets of his futon.

"Fine." He replies, voice low with an unreadable gaze.

Her eyes widen in surprise, a flicker of hope sparking within her. He had agreed, at last.

She's too pleased to overthink it, too eager to bask in the rare moment of his attention. She shifts on the futon, making space for him, a breathless anticipation building as he moves to settle beside her.

He crawls in beside her, the warmth of his body dwarfing her small frame, and she instinctively curls into him, seeking comfort from a man who has never even kissed her, truly kissed her.

"Thank you, Lord Sukuna," she sighs, body melting under the sensation of his calloused fingertips gliding over her delicate skin, grazing through the softness of her hair.

The poor thing has no idea how close she is to her end- he might as well indulge her in these last few moments of her meaningless life, in the fleeting tenderness she allows herself to believe in.

"Do you love me?" he hums, his voice oddly contemplative.

Her heart stutters, once again caught off-guard by the question.

She turns on her back to face him, gazing up at his face as stern and stoic as always, so impossibly beautiful in its coldness. "Of course I do. More than anything, my Lord…"

"You swear?"

"Yes."

She lifts a trembling hand, delicate fingers shyly brushing over the dark markings that adorn his face, tracing them with reverence. He doesn't stop her, only fueling the false hope she clings to.

For a moment there's this most strange sensation, like his heart tightening in his chest and before he can comprehend whatever the feeling is, he raises two fingers.

"How pathetic." He mutters sharply as he flicks his wrist.

Her piercing shriek cut across the silent night as two large slices formed across her abdomen, through the fragile illusion she'd built.

“Silly girl.”

Another cut, another scream.

For a moment, she's disoriented, lost in the searing pain, voice choked with confusion and terror, sobbing "What are you doing?" as she writhes in agony.

But whatever fleeting emotion had gripped him, whatever hint of hesitation, is gone in an instant, burned away by the familiar, twisted hunger within him. The urge to break her, to hear her cries echo in his ears, consumes him entirely. Each scream is fuel to the fire of his sadism, and he savors the sound.

They're quite similar to how she sounded when he would fuck the life out of her, he thinks.

Sukuna laughs, lazily swiping his fingers now so that cuts mar her skin while she begs for him to stop.

"What, did you think that if we -if you- played pretend long enough, your inane fantasy would somehow turn real?" He leans in, to brush her cheek in a mocking gesture imitating that of a lover. "You swore you loved me. Do you still love me?"

She spasms, a frantic, feeble attempt at movement, but her body betrays her. She wills her legs to respond, to flinch, to do anything—but there’s nothing.

No sensation, no control. Just the sickening realization that she’s trapped in her own failing flesh.

Sukuna brings his face close, lips brushing against hers, warm breath feathering against her parted mouth that so desperately struggles for oxygen right now. "If I kissed you now, would you still pretend that I could have been anything more than this?"

He sees it in her eyes then, the realization that he never actually cared, that he was the monster he was known to be right till the bitter, inevitable end.

What had she expected? Mercy? Love? How pathetic.

“Where are your gods now?” He pulls away to admire the sight before him.

The dark, dripping lines that scar her naked body thrills him, cocks hardening at how damaged she looks, at how she uses her last breaths pleading him over and over to stop with such sincerity as if that would truly stop him.

“A shrine maiden taking her last breaths with my seed leaking out of her…What a sight.” He sneers, wiping the hair away from her face and relishing in the way it seems like her heart is breaking in her eyes, the weight of her decisions finally catching up to her in the end. She's given up on begging for mercy, or maybe she simply can't anymore.

Her skin is paling, sweat collecting in beads and rolling off as she bleeds out.

And yet- something is wrong.

Instead of dimming, her eyes sharpen, dark pupils locking onto him with unnerving clarity.

Even her ragged, uneven breaths begin to steady, as if she’s forcing herself to hold on, to say something, to be something in her final moments.

Sukuna doesn’t like it.

The fun is over.

Her lips part—too late. The invisible blade carves through flesh, tendon, and bone in a single merciless stroke, the sharp crack of severed sinew ringing through the air before her head falls clean off.

Few things ever truly unsettle Sukuna.

But this—this was something else.

Her severed head fell onto the sheets with a dull, wet thud, rolling to its side to face him, yet her colorless lips still moved. No breath should remain, no voice should linger—and yet, from the gaping wound of her throat, a sound slithered forth, jagged and unnatural, something no longer human.

Then came the cursed energy.

Thick, suffocating waves poured from the exposed column of her neck, unfurling into the air like a black storm, coiling and twisting before sinking into his skin. He felt it burn as it permeated him, felt the weight of something far more binding than words.

A promise.

A curse.

A fate he had not foreseen.

Through bloodstained lips, her final whisper echoed, disjointed, but with such absoluteness that it was like the future was cemented with the utterance.

“I will find you again, Ryomen Sukuna.”

questions, comments, thoughts are welcome! i might polish this up some more later and decide if it's worth working on the full fic

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hyoseong-ah · 16 days ago

Text

Okay im actually wowd away by this

It was a great read

The Contendings

cw: incest (sister!reader x brother!sukuna), noncon/dubcon, ancient egyptian mythology au, period typical sexism, blood/violence/gore, degradation, angst/tragedy, purposeful intoxication, coercion, oral (fem receiving), piv sex, creampie, etc., DDNE wc: 8.1k a/n: so. this is kind of based on the myth of horus and set - in this story, reader plays the role of horus and sukuna plays the role of set

You suppose you were created to be Sukuna’s antithesis from the very beginning.

He is the desert storm—violent, chaotic, unrelenting. You are the sky left in its wake, all sunlight and silence, casting light where he once tore through.

So perhaps, when he finally did the unthinkable—murdering your parents to seize the throne—it was inevitable that you’d end up here, shaped by nothing but the need to oppose him.

And despite the blood he spilled in his lust for power, the Great Ennead did not strike him down. They couldn’t.

Because it’s true: Sukuna—merciless, monstrous, insatiable—was the only god fierce enough to stand at the prow of Ra’s boat and face the serpent each night.

Without him, the sun would not rise.

And so, his destruction became divine necessity. His violence, a pillar of balance.

And you?

You never asked to be here, never wanted to stand as his rival.

Because despite the blood he’s shed, he was, once, your older brother. The one you admired as a child, the one who taught you how to fight.

He made you what you are, made you his equal whether you ever wanted it or not.

Yet fate had it so that in the end, you were reduced to your existence as a woman. And on that fact alone, the so-called ‘Great’ Ennead of Heliopolis hesitated.

Because how could a woman be king? And it was a king, they claimed, that Egypt needed to flourish.

Sukuna’s sin was a divide patricide and matricide, while yours was your femineity. He tore the world apart for a chance to sit at the table, and you were made to bleed for simply daring to sit beside him.

Numerous trials and proceedings just to deliberate over this—all culminating in a competition between you and Sukuna—who could last the longest underwater within the Nile River.

Three days of slipping in and out of consciousness, drowning in those murky depths where the water felt like the belly of the world itself, suffocating and closing in on your lungs. Nothing existed except his blood-red eyes, glowing like the hellfire of some ancient beast, watching, waiting beneath the surface.

But tensions had been rising long before this. The debate had gone on for so long because no one could agree. Some of the Ennead still believed Sukuna, with his raw chaos and brutal force, was meant to inherit the kingship, while others—like Shu and Tefnut—insisted you, the righteous daughter, the rightful heir, should rule Egypt.

When the copper harpoon pierced the murky waters, sinking deep into Sukuna’s flesh, and the river ran red with his blood, you knew without a doubt that someone had grown impatient and made their choice. It was one of the gods, you imagined, growing desperate as they watched Sukuna fight the current, staring those glowing eyes into the darkness as if the river could be conquered by will alone.

Three days of drowning just for that competition to be annulled because of tensions. How exhausted, enraged, frustrated you were when you’d learned that another sort of competition would have to be held — especially since you were sure you had a good chance of winning.

In your rage, you stalked off West, leaving the gods to bicker among themselves, seeking reprieve from the tangle of emotions threatening to choke you.

Soon enough, you came across it.

Waves of gold and bone-white sand stretched out like something alive, the very landscape seeming to breathe. And there, rising from the earth as though summoned by some unseen hand, was the oasis. It shimmered before your eyes, unreal and green, like something out of a dream.

A cluster of date palms swayed in the hot wind, their long, thin fronds casting graceful, almost hypnotic shadows on the ground, like dancers caught in a moment too perfect to last.

The pool of water below them was so still it seemed a part of the sky, glinting under the oppressive sun like liquid glass. It smelled faintly of minerals, and life—distant and ancient, like the memory of something lost.

Birds nested in the palms, their calls soft and muted as if hesitant to disturb the peace. Tiny insects buzzed lazily over desert flowers that seemed to bloom just for this place, their delicate petals swaying gently in the breeze.

Here, the earth was darker, fertile in a way the desert had long since forgotten. Reeds and grasses grew thick around the water’s edge, some trampled under the soft prints of foxes or jackals that came to drink at dusk. The air was cooler here, quieter, thick with the scent of dates, salt, dust, and something sweet.

It was a fragment of paradise.

So, under the shade of a date palm tree, you lay down to rest.

Just a second to escape it all.

The weight of your parents gone, their lives ripped from you by the one person you had always trusted—your brother.

You try to recall the days before the bloodshed, the times when you had convinced yourself that they were away, tending to some business, something important. You had been worried, of course, but you asked Sukuna and he told you it was fine, assured you they were likely attending to something important, that all was well.

It was only when you found fragments of their butchered bodies—your mother’s severed hand, your father’s disfigured nose—floating down the Nile, the very river that had once been a lifeline, that you started to piece together the truth.

The truth you had been so blind to, the truth that had never let you see him for what he truly was.

But right now? You rest. Soon enough the idyllic atmosphere of the oasis lulls you off into a calm, dreamless sleep.

You awake to pain, sharp and stinging across your cheek, your eyes opening to find Sukuna above you, his face contorted in rage.

A gaping wound mars his side, the linen of his kilt stained red from the spear he must have had to pull out himself.

He grabs you by the collar of your dress, shaking you violently as his breath hisses through clenched teeth.

“You fucking bitch. You goddamn cheater—” he spits, his words venomous.

“I had no idea, I didn’t fucking ask anyone to do that! You think I’m scared to take on you myself, Sukuna?” you yell back, thrashing beneath his grip, feeling the soft grasses beneath you being crushed under the violence of his rage.

He sneers, his grip tightening. “Wretched, shitty fucking sister. Why won’t you just accept your goddamn place?” His eyes burn with an intensity that’s almost palpable. “You? Fit to be a ruler? The land needs someone strong, someone willing to spill blood and get their hands dirty—”

He shakes you again, his teeth bared like a wild animal. “Not some stupid, righteous ass bitch who’s too blinded by her ideals of ‘good.’”

The words hit like a punch to your gut, but before you can retort, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your face. You can feel the weight of his eyes, flitting about in anger as if searching for something to destroy. The collar around his neck flashes in the midday sun, the gold carnelian stones catching the light. It almost burns in its brilliance, as if a symbol of his twisted arrogance.

“Egypt needs a man,” he growls, the words spat like acid. “Not a dickless woman to guide it.”

His voice dips lower. “Do you hear that, sister? You’re just a little girl with ideals. And you know what? It makes you weak. Weak.”

His height and strength to tower over you, trapping you in the shadow of his rage, and soon his hand moves from your collar to the back of your neck, fingers digging into your skin, pulling you towards him.

“You were always so perfect in their eyes, weren’t you?” he taunts, his voice low and dangerous. “So pure—so fucking untainted—but that's not what this land needs. The gods don’t want some innocent little girl playing queen. They want a king. Someone who knows how to take what they want.” He leans in closer, his lips just grazing your ear. “Someone like me.”

The words feel like daggers, the way they cut through the fragile remnants of your self-worth.

“You think you’re fit to rule? Hah.” He scoffs, his grip on your neck tightening just enough to remind you of his power. “You’re not a king. And you never will be. You’re just a fucking woman with delusions of grandeur.”

His body presses into yours in a twisted mockery of intimacy, and every word is like a blow to your chest, one that’s impossible to block.

His eyes never leave yours, full of anger, of jealousy, of a deep-seated need to tear you down. And in that moment, you feel something shift—something cold and terrifying. You are no longer just his rival —you are his target.

"Do you get it now?" His voice is a low rasp. "You don’t get to be the one they admire. I am the one who will rule this land. Not you. Never you."

You can feel his fingers digging into your skin, his grip tightening with every word, and your pulse quickens with the panic that rises in your throat.

And the bile, the disdain, the bitter resentment you hold for him flows from the tip of your tongue as you stare him dead in the eyes.

“You should be glad that they annulled that competition because of someone else’s interference," you hiss, your voice sharp with venom. "Without it, they would’ve seen you lose to me, without any fucking excuse."

There’s a momentary calm, an unsettling stillness as he just stares back at you, silent and unreadable. His hands lock around your face with sickening force, and then—

Pain.

Henna-stained claws dig into your right eye first, the agony so intense it clouds your mind. For a split second, your vision goes completely red, and the world is swallowed by a violent haze. There’s a horrid squishing, squelching sound as he digs deeper, and fire bursts through every delicate nerve in your eye, making you scream, shriek, thrash under his hold.

The pain seems endless, the air thick with it. For a second, there’s just him, and the sharp, unbearable pressure.

And then half of your vision goes black.

Plop.

One of your eyes is thrown on the ground, splattering against the grass like a plucked fruit, turning the vibrant green into something sickening and red.

Your screams are raw now, desperate. But he's beyond rage. His fury has cooled into something worse— a detached, calculated cruelty. This isn't about justice anymore, or any twisted concept of right.

There is one goal here, and that goal is breaking you.

You, the only one who could ever challenge him. His only equal.

His voice is flat and detached as if he's already moved past any semblance of empathy. As if he’s done this before, as if it's nothing personal. Even as chaos rages around you, the blood rushing to your head, the heat of the desert sun scorching your skin, Sukuna’s presence is chillingly calm. His bloodied claws dig into your second eye. "I’ll take your eyes. I’ll take everything. You were never meant to challenge me."

You scream again, but it’s different now—please, just stop Sukuna, I’m your sister—the words barely form, the panic choking you as your face twists in agony. Your body jerks with the instinctive will to escape, but it’s futile. The world is consumed by pain, your mind reeling, each second lasting an eternity.

Then—nothing.

He leaves you there, your cries echoing, but fading into the soft rustle of the palm trees above you. The oasis is no longer an oasis., nothing more than a mirage.

It’s an emptiness so complete, so suffocating, that it steals away everything you were holding onto. There’s no darkness, no light. There’s nothing at all.

And you’re alone, under the palm tree. Blood running down your face, dripping into the earth that once seemed alive with peace.

Only the sound of your ragged, broken breaths fills the nothingness.

In the relentless heat of the desert, the world has never felt so cold.

You don’t know how long you’ve been lying there, crumpled in the sand, crying, screaming — drowning in the void where your vision once was.

Sukuna takes. It’s all he knows.

The most painful part is that despite your rivalry, despite the fact that he orphaned you, you would never do this to him. You would never mutilate him like this.

And then you hear it.

Soft footsteps in the sand — gentle, even, like something divine. The faint smell of incense, the warmth of her presence wrapping around you like an embrace.

Hathor.

She’s merciful, pitying you. With her hands, she catches a gazelle, milks it, and kneels beside you.

“Uncover your face,” she commands softly.

Warm milk drips onto your wounds, and instantly, the pain begins to dull.

“Open your eyes,” she says, a quiet command.

You do, though your swollen, torn lids barely lift — revealing the hollow, empty sockets underneath. With delicate hands, she pours more milk into them, running into the raw flesh, and you feel the sting of it, like a faint echo of life.

The nothingness is gone, and though you blink, the world is still dimmed — but before you, her face: a serene mask of compassion, golden headdress catching the sun’s dying light.

It’s a miracle. You have your eyes back, but no magic can repair what’s truly broken within you.

The taste of his cruelty, the memory of his hands ripping into your face, lingers on your tongue like bitter ash.

When Hathor returns to the encampment and tells the Ennead what Sukuna has done to you, the ruling is immediate. He is disqualified for violating sacred conduct — his assault is seen as a disgrace not only to the competition, but to the gods themselves.

Ra summons you both before the assembly. You stand in the golden light of dusk, your wounds still fresh beneath the miracle of Hathor’s healing, while Sukuna stands opposite you, arms crossed, face unreadable.

“This feud ends now,” Ra declares, voice echoing like thunder through the gathering. “The throne belongs to you, daughter of Osiris.”

A hush falls over the gods. The battle is over.

But Ra is not done. His gaze hardens. “For the sake of Ma’at, balance must be restored. The war between you must cease. And to prove it—” his eyes flick between the two of you, “—you will share a tent tonight. There are many gods, not enough shelter. Let this be a symbol of peace between siblings.”

You want to protest, you want to scream. But before you can speak, Sukuna gives a small, sharp smile.

“Of course,” he says smoothly. “We’re family, after all.”

He looks right at you when he says it, eyes gleaming like blood in the light.

The celebration of the feud’s resolution begins at sunset.

The sun has long slipped beneath the horizon, but the desert air still hums with warmth as the banquet begins. Beneath a canopy of linen and woven reeds, the gods gather in finery—lapis and turquoise glint at their throats, sheer linen robes perfumed with rare oils, gold flashing in the firelight.

At the entrance to the pavilion, basins filled with warm water and aromatics are set out—infused with blue lotus, crushed jasmine petals, and moringa blossoms. Attendants pour it over the hands of each guest, steam curling upward like incense, purifying and sweet.

Perfumed cones of scented fat—jasmine, blue lotus, and blossoms of myrrh—rest atop the heads of revelers, slowly melting in the heat, releasing their fragrance in soft trails of smoke. Lilies are handed out, and the air thickens with the rich sweetness of flowers, clinging to skin and linen like a second perfume.

Musicians play—low, slow notes from harps and flutes, tambourines trembling like windchimes in the desert breeze. Dancers move barefoot on the sand, anklets chiming, their hair braided with golden thread. Low tables are spread with roasted fowl, honey-glazed dates, pomegranate seeds like rubies in alabaster bowls. Jars of dark, spiced wine are passed from hand to hand, their scent mingling with cinnamon and thyme.

But you taste none of it.

On Ra’s orders you sit by Sukuna, on finely crafted linen cushions atop a thick, embroidered mat that separates you from the dusty earth beneath.

Sukuna lounges with a casual air, his legs stretched out on a cushion, dressed in his finest— the large gold wesekh with carnelians against his throat like drops of blood, golden cuffs on his arms and wrists, the girdle draped around his hips holding the soft linen kilt. He holds a cup of wine, sipping and watching dancers with those sharp eyes rimmed with kohl as dark as the tattoos that adorn his body, looking like every bit of the god that he is.

You suppose you must look the part too — winged kohl lining your malachite powdered eyes, lips painted a deep ochre, your linen dress falling around you and cinched at the waist by the beaded girdle, accented by your gold jewelry, the wesekh around your neck inlaid with deep blue lapis lazulis — a direct contrast to Sukuna’s fiery carnelians.

Then Sukuna claps his hands once, sharp, commanding. “Bring us something worth watching,” he drawls, eyes never leaving yours. “My sister and I have earned it.”

Dancers appear moments later — veiled, gliding like whispers across the sand, golden bangles clinking faintly as they move. They sway their hips in time to the music, spinning in slow, sinuous circles, bodies glowing in the torchlight.

“Relax,” Sukuna says, nudging your cup closer to you. “Why so tense? You’ve won, haven’t you?” He leans in, voice low and smooth like honey over steel. “There’s no need to be afraid of your own brother.”

His smile is all teeth.

You refuse to look at him as you reply coldly, “You tore out my fucking eyes. ‘My own brother.’”

He only grins wider, laughing softly. “My apologies, sister. I got… carried away. But you did get your pretty little eyes back, didn’t you?”

He moves closer. You instinctively shrink back, but his hand wraps around your waist, pulling you in.

“And you got the throne, too. So relax,” he says, lifting his own cup to your wine-stained lips. “Drink a little more. For tonight, let me just be your big brother.”

You’re still stiff, your body pressed against his sun-warmed skin.

But you did win. So you part your lips just enough for the rim of the cup, letting him pour the wine into your mouth.

“There you go,” he murmurs, feeling you begin to soften against him. “My good little sister…”

The wine seeps into your veins as the sweet incense and rhythmic music lull your mind into a haze.

Just for a second, you let yourself forget the crown, the violence, the mutilation.

Just for a second, you are not the Daughter of Osiris. You are only Sukuna’s younger sister.

After all—despite it all—he’s the only one you have left.

You finish drinking, and he lifts the cup away, passing it to an attendant for a refill before settling deeper into the cushions—pulling you with him.

“Remember when we were younger?” he asks, almost wistful. His hand skims your waist, nails brushing softly along the cloth, a gesture that might’ve once been fond. “The way you used to look at me—all wide-eyed, like I was your protector.”

His fingers trail lower, resting on your hip. “You followed me everywhere. Mother and Father used to call you my tail.”

At the mention of them, your throat tightens as you reply tightly, “You don’t get to speak of them.”

He laughs, soft and mocking. “Why not? I killed them, didn’t I? Surely that makes them mine to remember however I please.”

You breathe deeply, chest rising with the effort of not crying. The stinging behind your eyes only sharpens your voice. “Don’t… I can’t do this. Not with you. Not—”

You push against his chest, trying to get up. “Not after what you’ve done.”

“Now, now, sister,” he croons, yanking you back down into his side. “Wouldn’t want to upset Ra, would you?”

Tears well in your eyes, blurring your vision as you refuse to look at him.

Sukuna sighs, caressing your cheek before gently turning your face to him. “Do you think I’m evil because of what I did to them? I didn’t have a choice. You know that.”

You shake your head. “No, no I don’t know that brother. Of course you had a choice.”

“I never wanted to be the monster you think I am.” His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing along your lips. “I did it for us to rule together. I thought…maybe you’d understand. Maybe you’d want it too.”

You look at him incredulously through your glossy eyes. “Want it? Why would I ever want that?!”

Sukuna sighs again but this time it’s a bit harsher, like he’s getting exasperated. The hand on you hip tightens a bit as he presses his thumb into your mouth. “Father and mother didn’t have what it takes to rule. They never had the power to turn this land into what it can really be. So much potential, wasted.”

You watch him silently, brows pulling together a bit when the look on his face changes, eyes shifting to something like sparks in the fire.

“They did do one thing right, though…” he murmurs.

You peek up at him through your lashes, feeling warm all over, perhaps not just from the alcohol.

“And what’s that?” you whisper.

“They made you…” His hands dip lower as he gazes at you with that sultry look in his eyes. “And this perfect body.” He leans forward, hand finally trail down to settle on your rear. “Have I ever told you what a lovely ass you have, sister?” He abruptly gives your butt a sharp squeeze.

You stiffen, shame burning hot across your face as a soft, involuntary sound escapes your throat. You hate the way he smirks at it.

You try to pull away again, but his grip holds fast, fingers splayed possessively over your flesh.

"Don't touch me like that," you whisper, but your voice trembles—too thin, too breathless to carry the weight you want it to.

Sukuna leans in closer, nose brushing along the curve of your cheek, his breath warm with wine and smoke. "You didn’t seem to mind a moment ago," he murmurs, the words dripping with mock affection.

The attendant returns silently, head bowed, presenting the freshly filled cup of wine in both hands. Sukuna takes it without a word, his fingers brushing the rim as he turns back to you, expression unreadable.

“Thirsty, little sister?” he asks, voice syrupy and low.

You don’t answer. Your lips are still parted slightly from the last time he touched you, the warmth of his hand lingering on your skin like the fading sting of a bruise. But the moment your eyes meet his, the glint behind them gives you away—fear, confusion, a flicker of something darker.

He smiles again.

“Drink,” he says, the cup already at your lips, the sweet scent of spiced wine thick in your nose. “It’ll help you relax. We still have the whole night ahead.”

You hesitate, breath hitching as your gaze drops to the cup, then flicks back to him. He’s waiting. Expecting. His other hand still rests heavy on your body, fingers drumming lightly as if keeping time with the music, a quiet reminder of who’s in control here.

Your body tenses… then loosens. Just enough to part your lips. The wine flows into your mouth—rich and heady, cinnamon and sun-ripened fruit, darker than blood.

You swallow.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, tipping the cup higher, making you take a second, deeper drink before pulling it away with a satisfied hum. “See? Much better.”

The alcohol burns slightly on the way down, but it also dulls the edge of the terror thrumming in your chest. The haze thickens, and for a brief moment you forget where you are. Who he is.

He pulls you closer again, your back pressed to his chest now, the cup held lazily in his hand. His breath brushes your ear.

Your mind muddles further, confusion, shame, anger, affection and desire pulsing through you all at once.

Because part of you remembers the boy you’d followed like a shadow as a child, who’d carried you through reeds on his back, who smiled like the sun itself lived in his chest. Part of you still sees him in there under the blood, gold, his chaos and perversions.

You shift slightly, realizing his hand is still splayed across your rear.

“Sukuna,” you breathe nervously, uncertain about anything right now.

You try to move his hand up from its inappropriate placement but he grips your flesh tighter.

“Hm? What’s the matter, sister?”

You tense at the question, blood thrumming in your ears. His tone is light—mocking, as always—but there’s an edge behind it, something darker curling beneath the surface like smoke.

“I told you not to touch me like that,” you say again, trying to make your voice firm. It only comes out soft.

Fragile.

He hums low in his throat, hand still firmly palming the curve of you. “You keep saying that,” he murmurs, “but your body doesn’t quite agree, does it?” His thumb strokes over the fabric of your wrap, slow, almost absentminded. “Or is it just the wine making you honest?”

You flinch, but the heat in your face betrays you. You hate that your body reacts at all—to the wine, the music, his warmth pressing behind you. You hate the way his presence scrapes against your memories, dredging up things you buried long ago.

“I haven’t changed,” he murmurs into your ear, as if reading your thoughts. “Not really. You just stopped looking.”

You swallow, feeling a certain hardness forming under his kilt, perfectly aware of what’s happening right now, caught in it. Yet you don’t resist, not really.

Unsure.

Torn.

Your brother’s potent sexual appetite is well-known, a characteristic of his that adds to his reputation of chaos, sin, and darkness.

“I was never looking” you want to protest. But maybe the alcohol isn’t letting you hide from uncomfortable truths anymore — there’s always been a sort of tension between you, one that’s only grown as you both became older.

His lips twitch, amused at the emotions warring on your face, before skimming his fingers upwards along your leg. “Or maybe… you tried. How successful has that been, sister?”

You don’t answer, you don’t have to.

He sees it—drinks it from the flicker of emotion in your eyes, the way your thighs press ever so slightly together, the way your shoulders tense and then slacken, like surrender dressed up as fatigue.

Your head swims in a haze of heat, the thick scents of incense and perfumes — resinous, floral, sweet, redolent in the air, but deceptively so with a certain bitterness underneath, like something sacred that’s rotting away. Time is melting at the edges, and somewhere beyond in the large expanse of the desert stars twinkle over ancient truths, yet here in this circle of shadow and perfume and indulgence, there’s only you and him.

Only the now.

Sukuna leans down, brushing his nose along your temple, lips grazing your skin without ever really kissing it.

“Come,” he says, voice saccharine sweet.

A single word. A command cloaked in gentleness.

He rises from the cushions and offers you a hand—not rough, not demanding, just… expectant.

You stare at his hand for a moment, hesitating.

And then you take it, fingers intertwining with his as he helps you to your feet, the ground swaying a bit underneath them.

He leads you through the dark, past the veil of hanging beads that shimmer like bones, past attendants who bow without looking up.

The tent is not far, but it feels like you walk forever. The moonlight bathes the sand in silver, and the torches flicker like dying stars. Your heart beats like a war drum in your chest.

You finally arrive, passing through the parted flaps of the tent. The inside is rich with silks and shadows, oil lamps casting golden light over thick furs and gilded ornaments. It smells like rosewater and something deeper—metallic, almost coppery. The smell of old blood beneath perfume.

He guides you in.

The tent flap falls shut like the seal of a tomb and the air shifts immediately—warmer, heavier, laced with incense, myrrh, and the faint animalic musk of fur and smoke. Outside, the celebration dulls to a ghostly thrum.

In here, there is no music. No sound at all, save for the soft crunch of sand underfoot and your breathing—too fast, too shallow.

Your vision tilts as though the floor beneath you has changed shape. Before you can protest, your knees give, and you collapse onto a bed of cushions. They swallow you whole—thick, perfumed, decadently soft—exotic furs brushing against the backs of your thighs as your linen tunic rides up. Cool air grazes your exposed skin, but you feel flushed, burning from the inside out.

You look up at him through lidded eyes, your head swimming. The wine sloshes inside your stomach like something alive. You don’t feel drunk—you feel poisoned.

Sacredly, intimately, poisoned.

He stands above you, quiet. Watching. His silhouette haloed by the flickering oil lamps that make everything shimmer—walls, skin, memories.

Too much. It’s too much.

Nothing has happened, but it’s too much.

Your body feels like it’s floating wrong—limbs light, head heavy, the edges of your mind curling inward like paper in fire.

“I’m sleepy,” you murmur softly.

He kneels beside you.

The motion is slow, deliberate, like a predator savoring the moment before striking. The warmth of his body presses against the cool of the cushions, the space between you charged with something utterly sinful.

His fingers brush the loose strands of your hair back from your face, tender, a strange sort of gentleness in his touch. His thumb skims over your cheekbone, his voice a murmur, smooth and low, “Sleepy, sister?”

You nod lazily, the exhaustion in your body making you feel like you’re sinking deeper into the cushions, deeper into the fuzziness of the wine. His hand travels lower, tracing the curve of your jaw, a gesture too soft for the man you know him to be.

For a brief second, you think it’s genuine. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the haze around your mind, but his touch is soothing—comforting, even. You almost let yourself close your eyes and sink into it, but then his grip tightens around your wrist, pulling you back to the present, to him.

"You won’t sleep yet." His voice is calm, but there’s an edge beneath it, like the steady pull of a rope around your chest. “Not until you understand.”

You blink, the words unclear, the room tilting again. But you can’t tell if it's the wine or his gaze that makes your pulse quicken. He shifts, moving to straddle the cushions beside you, looming over you like a shadow. The scent of wine and smoke clings to his skin, intoxicating you further.

His fingers dip beneath the fabric of your tunic, fingertips brushing the exposed skin of your thigh, a trail of heat left in their wake. The gentle, almost affectionate touch makes your stomach lurch—some part of you wants to pull away, but the alcohol and the weight of your exhaustion make you too heavy to move, too willing to stay.

"I know you’re confused," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “You’ve always been confused—but you’ll understand soon enough.”

Your body stiffens, dread rising in your chest like something sharp, but before you can voice your protest, his other hand is gently cupping your chin, tilting your face up to meet his.

“Just relax, little sister. Relax, and trust me.”

You want to shout at him, tell him that this is wrong—that he’s wrong—but your voice catches in your throat. The words seem so distant, so irrelevant in the face of the suffocating pressure in the air. You don’t want to feel this, but you do.

"You always wanted to trust me, didn’t you?" He smiles, a cold, knowing smile that twists at the corners of his lips. "You always followed me, always looked up to me."

His words echo in your mind, fragments of the past slipping through the fog. The boy you followed. The brother you trusted. But you know now—he’s no protector. He’s everything they say he is.

You shiver, but it isn’t from cold.

You try to pull away, shaking your head as your breath hitches.

"Stop," you whisper hoarsely, but even your voice seems distant, swallowed by the heavy air of the tent. Your hands, trembling, push weakly against his chest, but the motion is futile.

He doesn’t budge. If anything, his grip tightens, steady and unwavering.

Sukuna’s eyes glint but his tone remains smooth, almost tender. "You’re the queen now, sister. The new queen of Egypt," he murmurs, almost coaxingly, as if the words themselves hold some sort of spell over you.

"Look at you." His fingers trace the line of your collarbone, like he’s memorizing you. "A queen should be revered, adored, …worshiped."

You close your eyes, a choked sob catching in your throat.

You want to argue. You want to tell him that this��this isn’t the kind of reverence you wanted, that this is a mockery of everything you’ve worked for. But it’s hard to find your voice, hard to even summon the strength to push back.

His hand moves lower, brushing against the curve of your breast, squeezing it slightly, and you suck in a sharp breath, heart racing. "You’ve earned your crown, sister," he repeats, as if that should somehow excuse everything. "And the crown must be honored... mustn’t it?"

You can’t find your words. You can’t even find your strength.

His fingers slide beneath the fabric of your tunic, the soft pressure of his touch spreading heat through your skin. And still, he coaxes, his voice a low hum in the back of your mind, urging you to let go, to surrender to the moment.

The tips of his fingers caress your inner thighs, and you twitch just slightly, suddenly feeling more and more unsure.

“I don’t know about this, brother,” you protest softly.

Then, you try and pull away from him.

Instantly, his hand clamps around your thigh, eyes swimming with something cold, and dangerous.

The feeling of being held down activates the panic that bubbles up through you and your eyes widen a bit, trying to thrash about. But your body is weighed down with alcohol, and all you do is flail futilely.

“Don’t worry. You’ll know soon enough,” he says calmly, before bunching the hem of your tunic.

You suck in a sharp breath, trying to crawl back away from him, but it’s too late, the cloth is yanked up, exposing your glistening sex to him.

“S-Sukuna!” you cry out, squirming as he just manhandles you effortlessly, laying down in the cushions and draping your legs over his broad shoulders.

“I’ll show you what it means to be a queen,” he murmurs lowly and then his mouth is on your inner thigh, kissing and biting as he makes his way up, ignoring your pleas for him to stop.

Suddenly a new sensation shoots up your spine — his tongue on your folds, licking a strip across your clit.

“Oh!” you squeak, instinctively trying to jerk your hips away as he begins lapping at your cunt with the most lewd noises.

You want to tell him to stop again, but with the alcohol in your veins and his tongue on your clit, the words fall away in favor of a breathy moan.

He hums against your slit, eyes closed as he eats, really eats you out like a man starved. Your pussy feels simultaneously hot from his tongue, and cold from the air brushing on the slick mess of fluids dripping between your thighs.

You’re not fighting him anymore, just drowning in the sensation of him, and you cum soon with an arch of your spine and incoherent words falling from your lips.

The fog in your mind is even thicker now, as you lay there just half awake while he pulls away, chin and lips glistening with your juices.

Sukuna licks his lips, eyes admiring the mess he’s made between your legs and soon he’s pulling his kilt down to reveal his length hard and leaking at the flushed tip, while a golden band glimmers at the base of his cock.

“Just lay there and relax.” He pumps his cock before positioning it in front of your dripping entrance. “Let me take care of you.”

You watch as he holds your hip in place with one hand, the other pushing the tip of his cock into you. There’s a stretch, even a bit of pain from the sheer size of him, and you wince softly as he continues sliding into you, splitting you open on his length.

“Shh. Almost there, sister,” he coos, voice a bit ragged as your heat envelopes him until he finally bottoms out.

For a second he looks at you, at your cunt stretching to accommodate his cock.

Then he leans forward, lips pressing into the hollow of your jaw, and starts thrusting his hips. You gasp as you feel him move, the fullness disappearing for a second and then coming back as he slides inside you again, brushing against a spot that makes you whimper.

In and out, in and out.

He looks into your eyes as he fucks you before leaning down to capture your lips in an almost tender kiss.

You wish that it was dirty, hard, rough — but it’s not. It’s disturbingly intimate, which is worse.

He begins fucking you harder, the ring around his cock sliding in and out of your cunt as wet sounds of skin hitting skin fill the tent.

“Good sister,” he pants against your skin, lips sucking and nipping at your neck as you moan his name. “You’ve always wanted to be a good sister to me, haven’t you?”

“Not like this”, you want to say.

But you don’t.

Instead you just nod desperately, hands crawling up his muscled back as tears start to well in your eyes for some reason.

“I missed you,” you whisper, and in a twisted way it’s true — you haven’t felt this close to your brother in years, especially not since he did what he did.

“I know you did,” he breathes, wet, open mouthed kisses trailing up from your neck, across your jaw and cheek.

Those hands roam your body, hands that murdered your parents. Tears flow from your eyes, dripping down your face.

“I miss Mother and Father too,” you sob pathetically, burying your face into his neck. “Wh-Why did you do it, brother? Why?!”

Something in him shifts.

His hands tighten their hold on your body and suddenly he’s thrusting into you faster, harder, the tip of his cock ramming into your cervix over and over again, making you wail and your whole body rock with the motion.

“God do you never stop thinking about them?” he hisses, “I told you — I did what I had to do. You don’t get it, do you, sister?”

“They wanted you to rule the -hah- world, but me?” He leans down, folding your legs up to hit the deepest spots inside of you, knocking the breath from your lungs as he nips at your lobe. “They wanted to chain me to its side.”

You just cry harder as he keeps going, words now laced with bitterness.

“Osiris, Isis. Saints in your mouth, rotting in mine,” he growls in your ear.

Sukuna's hand tightens, almost possessively, as you tremble beneath him, still clinging to his body despite the growing hatred within you. Your sobs turn ragged, breath coming in sharp bursts.

"You think I did it for them? For you?" His voice lowers, becoming cold and venomous. "You still don't get it, do you? I did it for myself. I earned it. I deserved it." His grip on your waist tightens painfully, as he fucks you so hard it almost hurts, pain blending with depraved pleasure.

You gasp, eyes blurred with tears, but your voice shakes with defiance. "And what about me, Sukuna? What about what I deserve? I never asked for this... I never asked for you to take everything away—”

“Stupid sister!” he snarls, “You got the goddamn throne and you’re complaining about everything being taken away?!” He leans down to murmur darkly in your ear. “And this…this is why I’m going to take it back. Show you what it really looks like when I take everything…”

Horrid realization dawns on you, making your eyes widen and your mind clear with disturbing clarity. Realization on what he’s really doing.

Because there is one thing he has that you never will — a cock. The corrupting power only a man can have.

He’s going to defile you with his semen, desecrating you so that you can no longer have the throne.

You scream, trying to push him off with all the strength in your limbs still lethargic with alcohol — that goddamn wine he filled you with.

“Get off me, get the FUCK OFF ME YOU DISGUSTING BASTARD—”

He keeps you pinned down effortlessly, one hand forcing your neck to twist, smushing your cheek into the fur beneath you as he fucks you harder and harder, with brutal intensity.

“Don’t -hah- think so sister,” he snickers, leaning down to stick his tongue out and lick a long wet stripe along the tears streaming down your cheeks, leaving behind dark stains with the messy kohl. “What’s the matter now? I thought you missed me?”

You thrash under his hold, nose wrinkling in disgust when you feel his warm saliva on your face. “D-Don’t cum inside, you c-cant—”

“Don’t cum inside?” he repeats, that horrid, evil smirk on his lips as he thrusts turn messy. “Aw, but I want to, sister. Don’t you think I’ve earned that much?”

He ignores your threats of murder, the way your walls clench trying to push him out, and it only gets him closer. “You know how long I’ve thought about this? How many times I’ve imagined filling your little cunt with my seed?”

“You’re sick, don’t you fucking dare do it—”

To your horror, those words seem to push him over the edge, and in one suspended moment his hips still a bit.

And then, warmth.

You scream and cry as you feel his hot, potent cum flooding your hole, ropes and ropes of white liquid just continuing to spurt into you. And somehow the sensation sends you over the edge and you cum along with him as you curse his name, cunt gushing and clenching as your eyes roll back.

By the time he’s done, all the fight has faded from you. You’ve given up, just crying softly as he collapses on you, his softening cock still plugged up inside you.

“Why, why, why…” you sob over and over.

And then the bastard kisses you, swallowing your broken cries as he pulls out of you, sitting back on his haunches to look at you. You lying there like a broken creature, body still twitching, skin flushed, his cum dripping out from your hole.

“It’ll all be okay sister,” he murmurs. “You’ve been so good, I might even let you sit beside me as I rule…”

“Go to hell!” you spit, between cries.

The humiliation is unbearable the next morning when Sukuna brings you forth before the Ennead, proudly announcing that he has “performed the labour of a male” on you.

And of course, the wise gods of Egypt, they look at you with revulsion and disgust, cursing you and spewing words of venom.

Ra denounces your spot from the throne, and thus Sukuna is instead hailed the next successor of Egypt.

The words of the Ennead echo in your mind as you kneel before them, the weight of their scorn pressing down upon your chest. The gods' looks are unforgiving, their expressions twisted with contempt as Sukuna stands at your side, his presence cold and domineering.

“See?” Sukuna boasts, a dark smirk spreading across his lips. “I’ve taken what was destined for me. And now, I’ll have it all. Even you, sister.” His voice is triumphant, but there's a coldness in it—a void where his humanity should have been.

Maybe where it once was.

You can barely lift your head. Your spirit, your hope, has been shattered. The world you knew is gone, replaced by a reality you never asked for, never wanted.

What’s left of you? What’s left of that girl who once dreamed of ruling with honor, with grace? She is gone, replaced by the woman kneeling in front of gods who now turn their backs on her.

Ra’s voice booms through the chamber, harsh and unforgiving. “You are no queen. You are no heir. You are nothing but the vessel of corruption.”

The gods, those who once represented the promise of divine order and protection, now curse you. Your bloodline is tainted, your destiny undone. Sukuna, the one who betrayed you, who stained your very soul, stands beside you, unrepentant.

And you realize the truth—the thing you’ve been denying all along.

There is no redemption. There is no reclaiming what was lost. Sukuna has taken everything from you, including your place in the world, your identity, your purity.

You are a shadow of the woman you once were.

The gods will forget your name. The people will never speak of you again. But somewhere deep within, you remain. The queen who was never crowned, the ruler who was never allowed to reign.

But as Sukuna stands triumphant, his form casting a long shadow over your broken body, you feel it—the faintest stir of something within you. A flicker, a breath of life that refuses to be extinguished.

He may have the throne now, may have destroyed everything you held dear, but there is something wild within you, something that cannot be chained, cannot be broken.

Even if the world has turned its back on you, even if the gods have forsaken you, one thing remains undeniable: You are still his sister.

And that bond—however twisted, however corrupted—can never truly be severed. Not by a throne, not by power.

Your gaze flickers upward, meeting his once again. He may see only a pawn now, a symbol of his victory, but you know better. His eyes are filled with ambition, yes. But they are also filled with something else. Something darker, something that feeds on the struggle between you, something that still needs you in his own twisted way.

You feel it in the air, a tension that will never dissipate. He is not your king.

Not yet, not ever.

“Enjoy it while you can,” you murmur, your voice quieter now but still filled with the weight of defiance. “You’ll never have peace with the throne. Not with me still here.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow, his lips curling into a sneer “You think this ends here, sister?” His tone is dripping with mockery, but there’s a flicker of something deeper, something undeniable between you both.

“No,” you whisper, feeling the last vestiges of hope slipping away like sand through your fingers. “But it will never be what you think it is.”

And with that, you silently vow that your battle is far from over. Not as a queen, not as his pawn—but as something else entirely, as what you were always meant to be.

His equal.

For as long as the desert storm rages, the promise of clear skies will endure.

a/n: some context - in ancient egyptian mythology, semen was considered such a corrupting substanc, that it was likened to poison or venom

in the original story when set cums in horus, horus actually catches it in his hands, so that it only touches his hands. when he goes to show his mother afterwards what set has done, his mother screams and chops off his hands and throws them into the nile river (because that's how bad the defilement of semen was considered). anyways, after that she jerks him off and collects his cum and then puts it on some lettuce (set's favorite food), which set then eats. the next day when set tells the ennead that horus cannot rule because set has "performed the labour of a male" on him, and the ennead basically cuss out horus and spit at him. but horus just laughs and says that his cum is in set's stomach. so they sort it out by calling out to the semen, and it responds from inside set - humiliating him, and making horus the ultimate winner.

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hyoseong-ah · 18 days ago

Text

FUCK YOU (ON THAT BIKE) ♡ // SUKUNA

⁀➷ CONTENT. you thought you could bug sukuna while he’s working on his bike and get away with it. big mistake—he’s about to fuck you raw on that leather seat ‘til you’re crying his name.

♡ PAIRING. afab!reader x boyfriend!sukuna

♡ WARNINGS. mdni. choking (a little), spanking, finger-fucking (mouth), degradation, dacryphilia, manhandling, creampie, hair-pulling, spit, tears, sweat, grease (sorry), motorcycle sex, bratty!reader, sukuna being sukuna (sorry, not sorry)

♡ WORD COUNT. 2,400

you’re sprawled out on the shitty old couch in BOYFRIEND!SUKUNA’S garage, legs kicked up over the armrest, scrolling through your phone like it’s the only thing keeping you from dying of boredom. the air smells like motor oil and stale cigarettes, and the faint hum of some trap beat leaks from a busted speaker in the corner.

sukuna’s over by his pride and joy—his matte-black motorcycle—hunched over it with a wrench in his tattooed hand. he’s been at it for hours, tweaking shit you don’t even pretend to understand, and you’re starting to get antsy.

“yo, how long you gonna fuck with that thing?” you call out, not even looking up from your screen. “feels like i’ve been sitting here forever.”

he doesn’t answer right away. just grunts, like you’re a fly buzzing around his head he’s too busy to swat. you roll your eyes, tossing your phone onto the cushion beside you, and sit up. the leather of his jacket you’re wearing—stolen from his stash—creaks as you move. it’s too big for you, swallowing your frame, but you like how it smells like him—smoke, sweat, and his cologne.

“sukunaaa,” you say again, louder this time, dragging out the last syllable like a brat. “c’mon, i’m bored as hell. entertain me or some shit.”

he finally looks up, those sharp red eyes fixed on you. his jaw’s tight, grease smeared across his cheek, and his black tank clings to his chest from the heat and even when he’s annoyed, he’s hot as sin. maybe especially when he’s annoyed.

“you see me working, yeah?” he snaps. “shut your damn mouth ‘fore i give you somethin’ to do with it.”

you smirk, hopping off the couch and sauntering over to him. the concrete’s cold under your bare feet, and your shorts ride up your thighs as you move. you know he’s watching, even if he’s pretending not to. “what, you gonna put me to work? i ain’t touchin’ that greasy-ass bike.”

he snorts, tossing the wrench onto the workbench with a loud clank. “you couldn’t handle it anyway, princess. too busy runnin’ that mouth.”

“maybe ‘cause you’re takin’ too damn long,” you shoot back, leaning against the bike’s seat, arms crossed. you’re close enough now that you can feel the heat rolling off him, see the way his veins pop under his skin as he flexes his hands. “thought you were good with your hands, big guy. guess not.”

that does it. you see the shift in his face—the way his eyes narrow, lips curling into something mean and dangerous. he steps toward you, slow and deliberate, and before you can blink, he’s got you caged against the bike, one hand slamming down on the handlebars beside you. the metal groans under his grip.

“you wanna push me, huh?” he growls, leaning in so close his breath hits your face. it’s hot, smells like menthol and alcohol, and your stomach flips. “keep talkin’ shit, see where it gets you.”

you tilt your head, grinning like an idiot ‘cause you love this—love how easy it is to rile him up. “what you gonna do about it, ‘kuna? spank me?”

his hand’s on you in a second, rough fingers grabbing your jaw, tilting your head back so you’re forced to meet his glare. “you’re fuckin’ annoying, you know that?” he mutters, but there’s this spark in his eyes—and you know you're winning. “can’t even let me finish my shit without actin’ up.”

“maybe i just want your attention,” you say, voice all syrupy and fake-innocent, batting your lashes at him. his grip tightens, and you can feel the calluses on his palm scraping your skin.

“oh, you’re gonna get it,” he says, and then he’s moving, shoving you back against the bike so hard you stumble. the leather seat digs into your ass, and he’s on you before you can catch your breath, one hand fisting in your hair, pulling you closer.

“sukuna—!” you yelp, half-laughing, half-shocked, but he cuts you off with a hard kiss, biting your lip hard. it’s messy, nasty, and you’re already soaked, thighs squeezing tight like that’s gonna hide it, but then he shoves his knee between them.

the denim of his jeans scrapes against your flimsy shorts, and he grinds his leg right up against your pussy, slow and deliberate, pressing in ‘til you can feel the friction burning through the fabric. it feels so good, teasing, and you can’t help the little moan that slips out, muffled against his lips.

“shut the fuck up,” he snarls against your mouth, tugging your head back so your neck’s exposed. his teeth graze your throat, sharp and mean, and you whine, hands scrambling to grab onto his shoulders and nails digging into the hard muscle under his tank while he’s still working his leg against you, grinding that thick thigh right where you’re throbbing. the pressure’s got your hips twitching, chasing it without even meaning to, and you’re damn near panting already. “you wanted this, yeah? fuckin’ beggin’ for it with that smart-ass mouth,” he says.

“didn’t... ngh—didn’t say that,” you gasp, but it’s a lie and he knows it, that bullshit excuse dying on your tongue as his knee presses harder, rubbing up and down, making your head spin.

he smirks like he’s about to ruin you and love every second of it, then he’s spinning you around fast, shoving you down ‘til you’re bent over the bike, chest slammed against the seat. the leather’s warm from the sticky garage heat, clinging to your skin through your thin-ass tank top, and your tits are pressed so hard against it they’re practically spilling out, making your nipples perk up even more against the rough leather.

“bullshit,” he says, kicking your legs apart with his boot, spreading you wide like you’re his to play with. his hand cracks down on your ass, a sharp, stinging smack that makes you yelp, the sound bouncing off the garage walls, and you hear him chuckle—like he’s getting off on it.

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, yanking them down just enough—barely past your ass, fabric bunched tight around your thighs, pussy dripping and on display. “look at you, fuckin’ dripping already,” he mutters, smearing a rough hand over the wet mess between your legs, “needy little slut.”

you whimper, pushing your hips back toward him, ‘cause yeah, you are needy—have been since you walked in here and saw him all sweaty and pissed off. there’s something about sukuna when he’s like this, rough and unfiltered, that makes you stupid for him. “just fuck me already, asshole,” you mutter, glancing over your shoulder at him.

his eyes flash, and then he’s yanking his jeans down. his cock springs free, thick, heavy, veins bulging under the skin, tip already leaking a fat bead of precum that glistens in the dim garage light, and fuck, it’s so long and girthy.

he steps up close, smirking at how you’re bent over, ass up, and grabs your hips with those big, rough hands, fingers digging in ‘til it stings. you’re already a mess—needy as fuck, whimpering soft and pathetic under your breath, little “please, ‘kuna” sounds slipping out ‘cause you can’t help it, you want him bad.

he doesn’t rush it right away—nah, he’s a fucker like that and you hate him for that—shoves his cock between your folds first, sliding that fat length back and forth, teasing you with it. the tip catches on your clit, smearing his precum all over your slick pussy, and he grinds it there, slow and mean, letting you feel every inch of him rubbing up against you ‘til your whimpers get louder, needier, hips twitching desperate for more.

“fuckin’ wet for me,” he mutters, then he pulls back just enough, pushes your soaked panties to the side with a flick of his thumb, and slams into you—bottoming out in one brutal thrust that splits you open, making your whole body lurch forward against the bike.

“fuck—!” you cry out, hands scrabbling against the bike for something to hold onto. the stretch burns, sharp and overwhelming, but it’s so good, the kind of pain that melts into pleasure fast. he doesn’t wait, doesn’t ease up—starts fucking you hard and fast, hips snapping against yours with a force that makes the whole damn motorcycle rock.

“this what you wanted?” he growls, leaning over you, one hand wrapping around your throat. his fingers dig into your skin, not choking yet, just holding you there, keeping you pinned. “huh? fuckin’ take it then.”

“y-yeah,” you moan, voice breaking as he hits that spot inside you that makes your legs shake. the bike’s shaking too, creaking under the weight of his thrusts, and you can hear the wet slap of skin on skin, the filthy sound of him pounding into you. it’s nasty, raw, everything you love about him.

he tightens his grip on your throat, just enough to make your head spin, and you’re gone—clawing at the seat, gasping his name like a prayer. “sukuna... fuck, ‘kuna, don’t stop—”

“fuckin’ loud,” he says, but you can tell he loves it, loves how your so messy for him. his other hand slides down, smacking your ass again—once, twice, ‘til it stings—then grabs a fistful of your ass, pulling you back onto him harder. “gonna make you scream, brat.”

and he does. he fucks you like he’s trying to break you, each thrust deeper, rougher, hitting that sweet spot over and over ‘til your vision blurs. your thighs are slick, dripping down onto the bike, and he laughs when he notices. “messy fuckin’ slut,” he says, reaching down between your legs and smearing something onto his fingers before shoving them into your mouth. “taste yourself.”

you groan around his fingers, sucking on them like he wants, lips stretched tight as he shoves two thick digits into your mouth, pumping them in and out like he’s fucking your face with them. they’re rough, calloused, tasting like salt and grease, and he’s not gentle—thrusting deep ‘til they hit the back of your throat, making you gag.

your tongue flattens against them, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, and you can barely keep up, slurping messy and loud. he’s watching you, eyes dark and hooded, loving how you choke on it just for him. “fuckin’ nasty,” he mutters, voice hoarse, and he pushes them deeper, curling them against your tongue ‘til you’re whining around the intrusion.

you suck harder, hollowing your cheeks, and he curses under his breath, hips stuttering against you, cock still buried deep inside. “shit, you’re tight—gonna... ughh... fuck—” he cuts himself off with a growl, yanking his fingers free with a wet pop, a string of spit trailing from your lips to his hand before he he pulls out of you just long enough to flip you onto your back. the bike wobbles, but he steadies it with one hand, throwing your legs over his shoulders.

“look at me,” he says, slamming back into you, and you do—eyes locked on his as he fucks you senseless. his face is flushed, sweat dripping down his jaw, and he looks like a goddamn animal. got your legs hooked over his shoulders, one hand gripping your thigh so tight you’re gonna have bruises shaped like his fingers tomorrow, the other braced on the bike to keep it from tipping over while hips bullies his cock into, the wet slap-slap-slap of skin on skin echoing in the garage louder than the trap beat still buzzing in the background.

his cock’s thick, stretching you open every time he buries it to the hilt, dragging against your walls in a way that’s almost too much, the head hitting that spot inside you over and over ‘til your toes curl and your vision starts to white out. his muscles flex under his tattooed skin with every roll of his hips, like he’s claiming you, breaking you apart just ‘cause he can. “gonna cum for me?”

“y-yeah,” you whimper, nails digging into his arms. “please, ‘kuna—”

he grins and then his thumb’s on your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles that make your whole body lock up. it’s too much, too fast, and it sends you crashing over the edge hard. you scream, just like he promised, voice tearing outta your throat raw and desperate, back arching off the bike so far you nearly slip.

your orgasm rips through you—messy as fuck, intense, a hot flood that leaves you trembling, thighs soaked, and tears spilling down your cheeks ‘cause it’s overwhelming as shit. your chest heaves, little sobs breaking free between gasps, and he doesn’t stop—keeps fucking you through it, cock slamming into you relentless, dragging out every shudder and twitch, crying his name in wet, broken hiccups. “s-sukuna... fuck—‘kuna—”

“fuckin’ good girl,” he mutters and then he’s coming too, burying himself balls-deep with a guttural groan that rumbles through his chest. you feel it—hot, thick spurts filling you up, spilling out around him ‘cause there’s nowhere else for it to go—and he doesn’t pull out right away, just stays there, hips pressed flush to yours, panting heavy and ragged.

he leans down, your tears are still streaming, salty and warm, but hen his tongue flicks out licking a fat stripe up your cheek, tasting the wet mess of your cries. “fuckin’ crybaby,” he murmurs, but he loves it and you whimper, half-embarrassed, half-gone from how fucked-out you are, his breath hot against your skin as he stays buried inside you, his cum dripping down steadily between you legs.

when he finally lets go, you’re a wreck—sprawled out on the bike, legs trembling, his cum leaking out of you onto the leather and he smirks. “marked my shit up,” he says, nodding at the bike. “guess you’re good for somethin’.”

you laugh, weak and breathless, barely managing to lift your hand to flip him off, fingers shaky. “fuck you.”

“fuckin’ act up again, huh?” he shoots back, zipping up his jeans with a lazy tug. he steps away, leaving you there sprawled like a used rag, and grabs the wrench off the workbench like nothing happened, crouching back down by the bike to mess with it again while his cum’s still dripping out of you onto the floor next to him, and he doesn’t even glance at it—just keeps working.

you pull yourself together, sorta, hair a sweaty mess sticking to your face and flop back onto the couch, limbs heavy like they’re made of lead. “still bored,” you say, just to fuck with him.

he glares over his shoulder. “keep it up, and round two’s gonna be worse.”

you grin. “promise?”

————— ୨୧ —————

⁀➷ masterlist

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hyoseong-ah · 24 days ago

Text

ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR PART 2 [FINAL] / YANDERE MYDEI

Summary: You end up pregnant with your enemy’s child. Mydei takes advantage of your misfortune.

Contents: pregnant and female reader / babytrapping / Mydei’s lore spoilers / reader gets called a degrading word (not by Mydei) / arranged marriage (coerced) / violence / overprotective Mydei / Hades and Persephone elements / suggestiveness / overprotectiveness / angst / murder mentions. [part one] Word count: 3.9k

Today was the most nervous day for you in a while. You and Mydei were anticipating your father’s arrival, and you felt nothing but terrified to admit the truth about the fact that you got pregnant with his most despised foe. Mydei has been trying to be reassuring, stating that at least you will put this conflict between his and your father’s people to an end; along with him promising you to be the one doing the talking. The idea of letting any harm come to you was much more ridiculous especially.

And you should have been assured. But seeing how composed Mydei looked, you didn’t really like his nonchalance. It was as if the situation worked out for him a bit too well. Just how happy Mydei was at the prospect of starting a family with you? All of this reaction made you feel out of place and misunderstood.

When your father entered the ruins of Kremnos you agreed to meet at, Mydei put his body slightly ahead of you, as if willing to guard you and your baby in case of aggression.

Your father was quick to judge, “What is the meaning of this, my daughter?” His voice was angry already, making you feel an unease already. Of course he wouldn’t like to see you and Mydei together, and he was confused when did you two even met.

“Father, listen…” you started nervously but Mydei interjected. He was straight to the point as usual, hating a small talk. “I want to marry your daughter. Give me her hand in marriage.” The absolute shock on your father’s face made you extremely guilty immediately. You were about to have your betrayal revealed… and the idea of admitting that you let an enemy spill his seed inside of you was the most shameful.

“What did you just say?” he asked even more angrily and walked towards you both. Mydei put his arm ahead of you to stop him. “What are you doing with him? Are you telling me you agree if you’re here with him?!”

“She is—” Mydei tried to say but your father wasn’t having it. “No, you bastard. Let her speak before I feel like disinheriting her!

Tears filled your eyes and while your dad softened for a moment at the sigh, having loved you ever since you were just a baby, he was still too angry and confused. “Speak,” he repeated.

You’ve been preparing yourself for this for the past week, but all the strength you’ve gathered was gone when facing your father, like a bobble being burst. “Father…” you started crying. “I’m pregnant. With Lord Mydei,” you admitted with shame.

You’ve never seen murderous look on your father’s face. He automatically assumed this man must have taken advantage of you, not even for a moment thinking you’d do this willingly. Well, you didn’t want to get pregnant—that wasn’t planned. But your affair was your choice. So he immediately tried to attack Mydei. You panicked as you saw him charge and screamed before a deadly fight could erupt, “No, it’s my fault!”

That stopped old man in tracks. First there was confusion painted on his face, then disbelief, and then… disgust. His own daughter…? Your mother will faint once she receives a letter later from his temporary location. The commander and his wife will become grandparents, yet he wasn’t sure of the joy it’s supposed to bring.

You were crying ugly, knowing how much you disappointed your father by choosing to sleep with his and yours enemy. You were a warrior too, now reduced to a future mother with a man so hated by your people and a mere baby crying from the consequences of your own actions, no matter how strong you were when fighting. “I didn’t mean to get pregnant, I swore I was using—”

“Be quiet,” he said coldly. “Watch your mouth,” Mydei said in your defense; not that your parent cared. “My daughter is nothing but a whore and you’re telling me to watch my—” Your father didn’t finish his sentence as he got punched in the face by your lover. You gasped and grabbed onto Mydei’s naked chest. As much as hearing such terms from your father hurt incredibly, you still loved him and felt protective enough to not let any pain come to him.

“Mydei, stop this! You two stop this!” you screamed and now were sobbing hard. Mydei turned around to look at you, something like worry flashing across his face. He wasn’t an expert in pregnancies but the medic have told him you need to avoid stress, for your and baby’s sake. Mydei pulled you to his side to hold you and rubbed your arm up and down. You couldn’t help but lean onto him, feeling weak and in need of comfort. “Don’t cry,” he said more gently before his voice was rough again as he spoke to the opponent. “Get up. We’re going to explain everything before I will beat you up for real,” he threatened.

Your father wanted to fight and curse further, however he needed many answers. The disgust at your betrayal didn’t leave though. You winced at how much bruised his cheek was now.

“Good. Now listen to me very carefully,” Mydei started. “It’s true your daughter has been sleeping with your opponent and that she ended up conceiving my child. But me offering this marriage could be beneficial for both sides.”

“Beneficial? How is this betrayal beneficial-” your father asked with another portion of anger but then he finally understood the meaning of this union. “… You speak of a treaty. You want me to sacrifice my daughter to end this war?” The idea was clearly uncomfortable to him. While he wasn’t a lenient person and he was mad at you stabbing him in the back, he still felt a natural sense of patently duty towards you. “You really are a scoundrel,” he scoffed. “She’s not an offering to gods!”

“I’m not sacrificing your daughter,” Mydei said seriously. “I’m only making sure this child is not born out of wedlock. Us setting a peace is just an extra part. You wouldn’t want your child to end up as a lonely mother, would you?”

Of course your father didn’t want that. Not only it’d be distasteful in the eyes of his people, he doubted you’d manage on your own. It was only a matter of him not being able to accept that for all these months, you’ve been lying behind his back.

But it didn’t mean this marriage wouldn’t be a blessing in a way. His people were tired. He was tired. You were tired. Yours and theirs safety and wellbeing came first. Your father looked at you, glad your tears were disappearing. He needed you coherent for you to answer him truthfully, “Do you even want this or is he pressuring you to marry?” Mydei clenched his jaw, staring your father coldly.

Now this was a difficult and complex question for you. You have never planned to marry Mydei, have a child—so you weren’t happy about this situation. On the other hand, a sense of duty towards your tribe, having remembered all the lost lives and souls; it kept you thinking you should do this. To you, this wasn’t even about the child having their future secured.

“It’s my decision, father…” you spoke hesitantly, but then you forced conviction into your voice, “… I think Lord Mydei is right. Not only this child needs a father, I also want our people to finally rest easy. I know they need some closure…” You felt Mydei tighten his grip on you at your words. You didn’t even dare to look at his face, scared you’ll see the same triumph you have seen the day you announced the news.

Your father closed his eyes, a thought on his face. He had to make a difficult decision. There was no good answer as in both cases there is something to give up: it was about choosing a lesser evil. Giving his daughter away to his enemy or denying his people or the end to this conflict. He opened his eyes, the shade exactly like yours, his blood running through your veins.

“You know what this means? That I’ll have to give you away to this man?” he asked, and you noticed a slight tremble in his tone. His flesh and blood, being taken away from him sounded most excruciating to a parent. You nodded, already feeling like crying again. None of you wanted to be separated from each other, even if your father might never forgive you.

“In that case… you better take a good care of my dear child, Lord Mydei,” he said seriously, not hiding his resignation.

“I will,” Mydei said with honesty. He didn’t care about anything else, now that he finally had you for himself. He was scared of the idea of being a father, but he loved this child already—even if your belly was barely showing, especially under your clothes; maybe because he was denied of childhood himself after his father’s sins…

“I won’t let any harm come to my betrothed or her child,” he added with an honor.

Your father took his words as truthful, however he had a condition. There’s no way he’d leave you in the lion’s jaw with no space. “We’ve made a responsible decision already, but… I have to ask you for one more thing.”

Mydei didn’t have a good feeling about the proposal, but he put his free hand in front of himself as a gesture that he’s willing to hear him out.

“As much as I’m letting you wed my daughter, I cannot possibly never see her again. Especially her mother, I don’t want her to curse me either. That’s why I want a quarter of a year with our daughter in our home. Once she gives birth and recovers, that is.”

Mydei was right in the idea that he wouldn’t like it. The idea of having you (and assumedly your daughter or son) gone for three whole months every year was maddening. Every minute away from you got him feral and worried you’re being seen by another man or are at risk. As a result of hearing this ridiculous statement, he squeezed on your arm hard enough to hurt. When you winced in pain, he immediately let it go—he didn’t mean to cause you any harm, it was simply he was still learning how to be gentle for the sake of your pregnancy. He looked down at you, making sure you’re alright.

Instead, he saw your begging eyes. You were desperate to keep in touch with your family; however there was something else at play—for all the suspicious feelings you had towards Mydei lately, you felt like having a break for him as well. Maybe even your child will need it—who knows what kind of father your fiance will become.

Mydei hated the idea of having you out and baby of his reach and being out of control with that deal. It was a realization that you’d probably become unhappy and unwilling should you be stuck with him all year that made him hesitant to deny you. If seeing your family makes you happy… maybe you will also be desperate to return to him sooner than a quarter of every next year. Would his child love him enough to betray you and demand he or she miss their daddy and want to go back early?

He made that hard decision, “Very well then. But don’t even assume I won’t drag her back if you extend three months even by just a day.”

When Mydei was leading you away to return safely, you had to look back at your father for the last time before you’ll have to wait long months to see him again. Living outside of Okhema and Kremnos made a distance too long for your father to feel like you’re near him, so he mouthed “I love you.”

He’ll take a blame on himself. Neither did the pain on his face mattered, when his heart just broke.

☆

When you two have returned to the house Mydei has kept himself at, with few servants that remained loyal to him even after he abandoned his role as a future king in Kremnos, you’ve realized this will be your new home only now. Homesickness overwhelmed you already.

Entering his chambers, Mydei placed you on bed and helped you remove your shoes. You had no idea why, considering you were in a stage too early to have swollen feet yet. Was he becoming soft with you?

“How do you feel?” he asked from below you. “Any nausea yet?” You shook your head. “Good.” Mydei sat down next to you on bed. “The healer has told me that if a father was in a healthy state before a woman conceives, the pregnancy should be easier on her. I don’t even drink alcohol, so I hope you’ll get to rest easy for the remaining time of your heaviness…”

It was at least one thing for you to be soothened about.

Being emotionally exhausted after parting with your father, haven’t seen your mother in months as you participated in war, you felt shameless enough to put your head on his shoulder. “That’s reassuring,” you said with a little yawn. Mydei knew this probably wasn’t a good moment, but he found you oddly adorable when you appeared tired like this, softening his heart at some extent. Perhaps, he simply liked the idea of you being dependent on him… he had you in his grasp anyway. And it will remain that way until you take your last breath—not that he didn’t wish for you to become immortal too somehow.

Seeing you being all worn out, he helped you lay down before he put himself next to you. Having an affair with you for months, he had enough time to learn some forms of affection despite his rough personality… no matter what a sick man you’ve made him to be. He wanted to be angry at you for having him so obsessed with you yet he didn’t remember the last time he had felt so alive in his immortal life.

Mydei let you turn on your side for him to hold, even feel the calm rhythm of his heart. You’ve made him at peace when his mind was at war all the time.

You squirmed a little when you felt his hand land on your lower stomach. You were still unused to the idea of carrying a life in your womb, a child from him of all people. “I think you’re strong enough to go through this state smoothly as well,” he added eventually.

But it wasn’t your physique you’ve doubted. Pregnancies tended to be difficult for women, however what got you truly worried was forced assimilation in Okhema and the idea of your life having changed so drastically upon one of the nights with Mydei.

“… Yeah. Mydeimos?” you asked quietly. “Yes, love?” he asked with a rub of your belly, bit happy at the sound of his name. Maybe your form was bloated just barely, nonetheless it made him territorial already. He’ll protect you and this child, slaughter any enemy deciding to cross you, and maybe one day you’ll ask for another babe. For now, he needed to prepare a wedding ceremony. He won this fight nonetheless; even if he had to do something so disgusting to you. He felt guilty sometimes, until the thoughts of you filled his mind again and instead he wanted you even more.

“Thank you,” you murmured against his chest, your eyes closing already. “What are you thanking me for?” he kissed your cheek.

“I’m glad you didn’t separate me from my family,” you admitted meekly.

“I couldn’t go that far, so don’t thank me. I only want you to care about our family just as much.”

You didn’t manage to agree as you fell asleep, leaving him without your promise. Mydei sighed and pulled you closer to him, with his palm on your stomach still, for him to imagine how big and much more his you’ll be soon.

☆

As your belly grew, so did Mydei’s newfound tendency to be overbearing. He seemed to be more stressed out than you at times, desperate to make sure your wellbeing is secured. To him, it didn’t matter how suffocated you might have felt—he kept you close regardless. Especially now that you were wife and husband. Mydei needed both your safety and love, for all the times he didn’t feel safe or loved himself.

When it came to you, you were founding yourself to be more accepting of the situation. Not happy though. No, your mind was more about getting used to the idea, as you knew you had no choice and needed to get through it sometimes. You can’t take time back but you can make the future work.

Mydei have noticed you became more quiet after separation, but he blamed it on you missing home than you actually being unhappy at the prospect of becoming a mother. Perhaps he was a fool but he had all the confidence in you, one day, loving him so much you could die; the same way he loved you and this child.

You were four months pregnant at this point. Mydei was so bad he didn’t even want you to walk too much, finding some excuses about you provoking painful feet or risking tripping over. No, you were much better sitting on his lap while he sat on his throne.

“Open your mouth,” he said teasingly and fed you few pomegranate seeds. He wanted you to eat well for the baby, and a healer recommended fruits for additional vitamins. The idea of sharing his favorite food with you felt nice too—even if it’s a merely sized way of bonding.

When you parted your lips for him, he slipped few pomegranate seeds into your mouth you quite enjoyed, his finger accidentally brushing over your lips and spreading crimson juice here. The unintentional art looked beautiful on you nevertheless. You were carrying a meaning of pomegranate on your plumpness, both fertile and in marriage union. Should you ever die, he will simply hunt your soul back to him.

Observing your beauty, he felt a familiar urge to push his thumb into your mouth and see you suckle on it, like you have done so submissively during many nights. No matter, he’ll wait until your hormones strike you enough for you to feel desire all the time… he’ll just have to be more delicate with you in this state, and you surely will let him rock your body with his hands on your bump. He’ll knead your breasts too, chasing away all the soreness.

He put an empty pomegranate shell away, hopefully not as empty as you, and wrapped his arms around you, typically one hand on your belly. It could be any moment a baby kicks so he was always ready like this.

“Say… do you think it’ll be a girl or boy?” he asked with curiosity, pushing his excitement into the back of his mind so you don’t think of him as too eager.

You looked at him in thought, your mouth suddenly dry. “Well, I didn’t really think about that… I just want them to be healthy.”

He chuckled at your words. In his eyes, you were such a good mother already. “Their gender doesn’t matter to me either… I’ll help them become a strong warrior regardless. My parents…” he stopped for a moment. The bitterness of his father’s murder and his own murder reminded in him until many years later. He cleared his throat, despite it feeling choked. “My parents were a king and a queen, both warriors of the equal strength as none of them won during their first clashing of blades… I won’t discriminate no matter the result of your birth. I’m sure our child will be strong as you and I are.”

You still noticed how giddy he sounded, so odd for Mydei; you learned how to read him; no matter how much he tried to hide his vulnerabilities. You felt some form of affection for him too, however, you didn’t like how easily you soaked in his emotions sometimes. It was unsettling how intense he was when he thought you didn’t notice.

But the mention of warriors… it made you feel nostalgic. You missed the battlefield and the freedom and pride it brought. “Yeah, I would like to train them too…” you said hopefully. Something angry flashed in Mydei’s eyes for a moment, not sure if he should let you continue fighting whether you will recover after a birth or not. What if you fly away from him? At the same time, he didn’t want to make you miserable. “Well, you shouldn’t get rusty. I suppose some sparring with me should help you get back in healthy shape after birth,” he said, all resigned. You’ve made him too soft for his liking, but even more fierce with his enemies that could threaten you and the unborn.

But the short look of excitement in your eyes was worth it. He really didn’t intend to make you unhappy in any way… it was just his desire to both own you and keep you safe, something he had grown enough during your months of passionate nights before your pregnancy; it only burst open and swallowed you when his tragic plan had worked.

You both jumped when the baby suddenly kicked in your belly, for the first time. You felt it hardly from the inside and for him it was under his rough-skinned palm. He looked at you in awe, until he saw your eyes well up with tears, thinking it perhaps hurt. “Are you okay?” he asked slightly panicked.

“Huh? Yes… I just… feel touched. That child really exists,” you said with a smile. Sometimes about them being alive and proofing it was your comfort to your loneliness; unless you were becoming delusional and desperate for relief.

Seeing your rare moment of happiness and smile was a soothing balm to his soul. This boy or girl were really the key to making you his—not only did you agree to marry him, you also were starting to appreciate an aspect of becoming a mother. He didn’t care if it was your hormones, a stereotype of a mother’s instinct or your affection for him. He shall make sure this remains eternal.

When Mydei placed his lips on his and stroked your belly, you let him. He didn’t cry now but he felt like he will once he sees the blessing he produced in the world.

As he kissed you rather gently for him, you having taught him how to be more soft for your sake, he thought many things. How beautiful you’ve become even if your skin appeared dull, how much he liked taking care of you, how he finally had an idea of family back in his life, how much of his you were…

…that’s why you shall never know the truth about your past herb treatment, not needing to leave you heartbroken. Neither will the healer spill it out for you, as he was now six feet underground.

He just couldn’t had let you go, scared you’ll finally leave back to where you’ve came from, should the conflict had ended on its own. And you fell right into his trap.

Mydei wouldn’t last six months like with Persephone, so I made it three…

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