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azureashes · 1 year

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The Queen of Curses

As promised, the long awaited sequel! This is a gift fic for the awesome, amazing, epic, kind, lovely, warm, and all around makes the world a better place @xxdoncrazyxx. Happy belated birthday! <3

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18+ Minors DNI

Sukuna//Reader - a sequel to a Goddess for the King of Curses

TW: size kink, triple penetration (kinda), drowning, death, impalement (is that a word?), corruption, mindbreak, lots of blood, lots of cum, sexual slavery, violent death, dubcon I guess, (although reader is pretty into it... psycho XD), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, also yandere

„Serve?“

Your voice barely reached your ears. It came out distant, as if someone else had spoken.

“Mm,” Sukuna dismissed with a casual wave of his hand, leaning back on someone else’s throne, one leg crossed over the other, crown and scepter tossed carelessly at his feet. Power was his crown. He had no use for the trinkets of weaker men.

“They’ve served me well enough,” he frowned, displeased by your hesitation. “Now it’s your turn to serve them.”

You knew your voice would falter if you spoke, so you said nothing. Weakness did not arouse Sukuna’s pity – if he had such a thing – it merely provoked his sadism.

“Don’t tell me there’s a problem… goddess,” the last word was spoken on a sneer as he lifted his chin, the black markings on his face twisting along with his twisted expression.

You swallowed thickly and glanced up at where the cursed spirit sat, perched on the seat of power that only yesterday belonged to a man who had ruled at least a hundred miles in every direction. Today, his skull served as Sukuna’s soup bowl.

Two of Sukuna’s arms relaxed on the elaborately fashioned golden armrests, a third propped up his chin, while the fourth was held out towards you, a single finger beckoning you closer. You had consigned yourself to being his toy, and even after all these months of travelling with him, he had not yet grown tired of your old moniker.

Did he do it on purpose? To remind you that your worth wasn’t nearly as elevated as you had once imagined it to be? Or did he simply relish the knowledge that he had brought a goddess – even a fake one – to her knees? You bit your lip, your mind racing to piece together a suitable reply. The only matter was, in the year since Sukuna had knocked your self-worth from that pedestal, you’d been scrambling along on the floor, trying to piece it back together and figure out where it really belonged.

You were a woman, not a goddess, he had said. And the devil of it was, you only felt like a woman when his crimson eyes were burning into yours as he forced himself onto you. It wasn’t always pleasant, but you savored it all the same. Every scar he left on you was like a badge of honor. Proof of your lived experiences.

But to share you with his lackeys? You didn’t care who or how high-ranking they were. You didn’t care if they were powerful enough for Sukuna to feel they deserved you as a reward, you didn’t want to share your body with anyone but him. Being his vessel was the only worth you had left.

“I simply did not realize,” you began slowly, lifting your chin to return his gaze through half- lidded eyes as you swept towards him in response to his beckoning, your skirts swirling around you as you did so. “That my Lord was in the habit of sharing his possessions with others.”

You marched up the two steps towards the usurped throne solemnly, your eyes never leaving his, until you came to stand in front of him with all the poise of your upbringing. Sukuna lifted a hand towards your face with a deceptive gentleness, his sharp, black fingernails scraping past your cheek as his fingers raked through your loose hair.

“My possessions?” he purred, as if pleased you had come to think of yourself as such. His hand closed into a cruel fist as he jerked you forward by your hair, sending you face first into his lap. You supported yourself by bracing yourself on his knees, but his unforgiving grip did not allow you to rise.

“I do with my possessions what I will,” Sukuna reminded you, his voice serpentine and cold in your ear. “Or else, I break them and throw them away.”

The burning pain in your scalp was not even the beginning of what you knew he could do to you, and you cursed the warmth coursing through your treacherous body, a body that had come to learn that pleasure and pain were devilishly intertwined.

“Then forgive me,” you whispered, turning your face towards him with difficulty, “That I would rather be broken than be made to submit to someone other than you.”

He could be angered or pleased by your defiance, there was no way of knowing, and frankly, you no longer had the sense of self-preservation to hope for either.

The moment held, the air between you taut like a hunter’s bowstring as he frowned at you. You wondered what he was looking for as he searched the depths of your eyes. He would find nothing there but sincerity.

Something shifted in his gaze, and his frown deepened. You could not say whether he was puzzled or surprised, but when his brows furrowed, you were acutely aware that the scales had tipped against you.

“Your insolence reminds me, we need to break in the dungeons, don’t we?” A cruel laugh fell from his grinning lips. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I bet you’ll feel right at home.”

He dragged you down the three steps to the hall and then along further passageways. Some of his minions glanced at you in surprise, but they knew better than to look for too long. He dragged you down roughly hewn steps that led into darkness, and you stumbled along behind him, struggled to find your footing on the irregular stairs. You were greeted with a darkness so thick it was almost palpable against your face.

Apart from the moans of prisoners deeper within the underground prison, the flickering of the torchlight in Sukuna’s hand was the only sound that met your ears.

You started as a heavy, barred iron door swung open with a deafening creak like a cat’s yowling and with a flick of his wrist, Sukuna sent you tumbling headfirst into a prison cell, your face striking the uneven slabs of stone roughly. The iron bars slammed shut behind you with a deafening clatter, rattling the walls with their weight and as you turned to Sukuna, you could see that his maniacal sneer had returned.

Whatever had been puzzling him, throwing you into the dungeons seemed to have taken his mind from it. “Rot here, then, if you’re so insistent. If you won’t feed my men, you might as well feed the rats.” His eyes sparked maliciously, “Or are you too good for them, too?”

You gingerly wiped at the blood on your forehead but steeled yourself and turned to offer the demon a curtsy.

“Thank you, my Lord,” you glanced up at him, wondering what was going on behind the bloodlust in his eyes, behind the ever-present hunger for violence. “I will do my best to enjoy my stay here.”

“At least cry, won’t you?” Sukuna frowned, the pleasure vanishing from his face. He gave you a disappointed look then turned away from you with a yawn, suddenly bored, “Die here then for all I care.” And with that, he ascended the steps and was gone, the thick oak door to the dungeons falling shut behind him and robbing you of what little light there had been.

There was no point crying, you knew. Sukuna could abide your tears, your screams, and your begging. What he could not stand, was boredom. And so, that was what you would offer him in the face of whatever he sought to torment you with. If he wanted a reaction out of you – if he wanted you to alleviate his boredom – he would only achieve that by giving you something you wanted in return.

At least, you hoped that that was how it would work.

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Several weeks passed before Sukuna seemed to remember you. And when you were brought out of the dungeon, hungry and dirty, your hair a ragged mess and your clothes disheveled and torn, you blinked and shielded your eyes from the torchlight – your senses overcome. You were given little time to adjust, however, and hastily ushered down one hallway after another. The further you walked from the prisons underground, the more extravagant these walkways became. The more intricate the sconces, the more elaborate the rugs beneath your feet.

The curses you had grown somewhat close to over the year of travelling together cast sympathetic looks as they led you to what you could only assume was a main hall of sorts. You ran your fingers through your tangled locks and tried to rub the grime from your cheeks. If they had taken you out of the damp dungeon, it could only mean you would now be presented to Sukuna once more. You could only hope he would not attempt to give you away again.

As the black-lacquered, double doors were opened to allow you entry, the grandeur of the opulent room met your eyes, a stark contrast to the stone and iron you had become reacquainted with over the last few weeks. Thick, maroon-velvet brocade hangings were draped from tall windows that ran from floor-to-ceiling, their tassels were woven from gold thread, just like the intricate gold filigree detailing spread across the elaborate curtains themselves. The floors were of marble tiling, interlaid in a mosaic pattern. Tapestries lined the walls, carrying the history of the country Sukuna had conquered, meaningless images now.

All this splendor was lost on the King of Curses, who would have been every bit as imposing and awe-inspiring if he were in a dilapidated hut. As it was, he lounged against an armchair made of the same velvet as the curtains, as women crowded around him in varying states of undress. A buxom blonde with glittering dark eyes stood behind him, her hands sliding down the defined muscles of his chest, across those black markings you often traced with your eyes, and on bolder nights, gingerly, with the tips of your fingers.

Beside her stood a brunette, with eyes of emerald, hanging from his neck, her tongue tracing the prominent veins that ran along the thick column. Two women sat on the floor at either side of him, one resting her head against his knee, the other with an arm draped over his thigh, pressing her heavy breasts up against his calf. Each of them had auburn hair, like polished copper and freckled, sun-kissed skin. Twins. Yet another beauty stood at his shoulder, with skin dark as sin that glowed like burnished bronze in the light of the sun. Long lashes curtained her dark eyes, veiled with mystery and allure. Her thick, coiled hair framed her head like a halo – an image divine.

But the woman you could not tear your eyes from, was the one perched on his lap. Her silks had fallen to her waist, revealing pert, full breasts and skin like the purest cream. She turned to look at you as you entered, flushed cheeks, sky-blue eyes, hair like liquid ink – in short, she was a vision of beauty like no other. She smiled at you, a pitying, taunting smirk and yet, all your eyes saw were her swollen, well-kissed lips.

You dragged your eyes away from her, a haze of red seemed to cover your vision and you knew you could not allow yourself to be baited into an emotional response. Various other women were spread throughout the room, all equally beautiful. Some lie on their backs, panting with exhaustion, others leaned against the furniture, apparently collecting themselves, while others still were completely motionless – likely unconscious. You did not let yourself consider the alternative state they might be in.

Clearly, Sukuna had made recent use of them. You were aware that he had taken to collecting women after you, although generally you kept to your own chambers and were spared having to interact with them. He took noblewomen of his pleasing, generally the daughters or young wives of the deceased lord or king. If she survived the first night, she was rewarded with the honor of joining his harem – where she would be allowed to repeat the experience until either her body or psyche wore out. Some did not last the night, others survived but lost their minds – which bored Sukuna - and a select few took to their new lives with vigor, like the inky-haired harlot currently warming the cursed spirit’s lap.

Steeling yourself, you straightened your spine and returned your gaze firmly to Sukuna, refusing to allow any feelings of inferiority to creep into your mind. You were his first conquest. And though he might have a collection of queens and princesses, you were the only goddess he had yet to claim, rags or no.

“You called, my Lord?” your voice betrayed no hint of emotion – as level as your gaze.

Sukuna grinned at your non-response, revealing sharp canines and that same glee in his eyes that could always be found when he had thought of a new way to hurt you.

“Well, well, well… look what the cat dragged in.” His voice had no use being that sultry, it had no business sending that familiar heat pooling in your stomach after all he had done to you. His deep baritone seemed to penetrate your very skin.

The tangles in your hair, the stains on your face and clothes, you were as out of place as a swine in an ablution chamber and yet – you refused to be beaten. You were his first, you had to be special somehow. After all, for who else would Sukuna put on such a show?

Sukuna wrinkled his nose as he waved a hand in front of his nose, as if there were an unpleasant stench drifting over from you. “Looks like you’re still alive - even if you don’t smell like it.” His sadistic smirk was still apparent at the edges of his mouth. The women broke into gleeful titters, joining in on his mirth at your appearance.

All he wanted from you was a response. For you to burst into tears. To beg his mercy. Even anger would do, you supposed. And yet, you couldn’t. You wanted something from him as well. And perhaps it was suicidal arrogance that prevented you from giving into him as he wished, but you were willing to take that risk, gambling everything on the hope that he would give to you a piece of himself that he gave to no one else.

You wanted to be something to him. Anything.

“I could not afford to delay, when summoned by my Lord,” you responded smoothly, showing no sign of the discomfort you felt.

“Is that so?” Sukuna purred, resting his temple against the knuckles of his left hand.

“And yet, what makes you better than these morsels?” he mused, running his clawed fingers through the silky, black locks of the woman on his lap. “That you dare to defy me?” Clearly, he still recalled where your last conversation had left off.

You doubted the women present were aware of how literally Sukuna used the term “morsels”. It was a game to him, and you needed to play your pieces carefully, all while figuring out the rules – as viable to change as they were at his passing whim.

“I would not dare, my Lord,” you murmured quietly.

“Then serve my men, brat.” His smirk disappeared and, in its place, an inquisitive light sparked in his half-lidded eyes. Why shouldn’t you be made to serve others, he seemed to ask. Why would you be reserved for him alone?

You wondered if this was still about rewarding his underlings, or simply about drawing a line between the two of you – once more showing you your place.

You weighed your words carefully, “I am ever in service to my Lord, and deem myself unfit to divide my attentions as you propose.”

Before Sukuna could respond, a sharp laugh, malicious and high rang through the room. “You dare to defy our beloved lord?” The woman in his lap gave you a once-over her expression making no attempt to hide what she thought of you. “You poor thing. Like a drowned rat making demands.” She had a melodious, lilting voice but its airy quality was dampened by the mean-spirited manner in which she spoke. She had to know who you were, and as such, fully intended to take you down as a final stepping-stone to becoming Sukuna’s favorite.

As if Sukuna had such things.

“Look at you! You reek of filth and whatever droppings have piled up in the dungeons. Do you really think you deserve a place in Lord Sukuna’s harem?”

She sidled from Sukuna’s lap, so focused on you she failed to see the frown forming on his face.

She flipped her lovely hair over her shoulder, “Serving our master is an honor bestowed upon our royal bloodlines.” She gestured vaguely towards the women in the room. “How dare you put on such airs when you’re clearly nothing but a filthy whore? You’d do well to be grateful to be in his mere presence, and spread your legs for whoever he commands, –“

Her speech was cut abruptly short when Sukuna’s large hand closed around her head, his fingers almost meeting at her face. His displeasure emanated from him in dark waves of cursed energy visible to the naked eye.

“Who gave you permission to speak?” his voice was dangerously low, soft almost, and yet it reverberated throughout the room – a clear threat.

It happened almost too fast to follow, the muscles banding along his forearm flexed, half a whimper escaped her lips as her eyes sought yours in a panicked plea for mercy through the gaps in his fingers, and then his hand closed into a fist and blood spurted violently in all directions. You flinched as the spray of blood spattered across your face and clothing. The women jumped to their feet, screaming.

“Know your place, fool.” Sukuna growled, as he released his hold on the lovely woman, and she crumpled to the ground – her silky hair all that remained of her once-lovely countenance. As the woman fell away from between you, Sukuna’s scarlet eyes, still burning with displeasure beneath furrowed brows, connected with yours.

You held his gaze as chaos erupted all around you. There was intention in his gaze, that he knew what he had done, and could not take it back. He had ceded ground to you. He had flinched first. For all he played the part that you were meaningless to him, he had killed a member of his harem for your sake, and that truth weighed heavy, undeniable between you.

Even as the remaining ladies tore for the exits, screaming and sobbing, you raised a hand and spoke simply and clearly, in a compelling manner you could not unlearn after all your years at the temple. “Ladies.”

A spellbound silence fell over them, as they took in your standoff with Sukuna, the way your eyes were fixed unwavering on one another.

“You are as yet in the presence of our Lord,” you reminded them. They seemed to come to their senses, even as you could hear a few of them sniffling behind you.

Sukuna lifted his chin, apparently at ease with you taking control of his harem. He leaned back into his chair, his eyes contemplative.

“Remove her from our Lord’s presence,” you admonished them, giving them a purpose to overcome their shock. As if startled awake, they shuffled towards the young woman, and after at first being indecisive as to how to proceed, one group took hold of her hands as the other grabbed her ankles and she was carried from the chamber, one way or another. The remaining women hovered uncomfortably.

“Get out,” Sukuna dismissed with a wave of his fingers, his penetrant gaze still fixed wholly on you.

They were all too willing to leave and had departed within seconds, leaving none but the two of you in the expansive hall.

Sukuna regarded you warily for a moment, taking you in from head to toe before beckoning you closer with a single finger. “Come.”

You approached, your chest constricting with feeling. You wanted so badly to mean something to him, for him to give you a new identity after having stripped away your old one. You did not so much as flinch as you stepped through the puddle of blood and drew closer to the fearsome giant of a man seated before you. You slowed just before him, but Sukuna took a crushing hold of your hip and drew you closer still, until you stood between his legs and looked up at him, his nose a breath from yours.

Up close, you looked right into his sanguine irises, glowing with bloodlust, and another kind of hunger still, a hunger you could not help but feel was reserved for you.

“She was right, you know,” Sukuna muttered, his breath ghosting over your lips. “You really are a filthy whore.”

“So long as I am yours,” you whispered back earnestly, your gaze wandering from his probing eyes to his full lips, “I would gladly be less than that still.”

He seemed to consider that, discontent with the direction the conversation was taking. It was just as you had thought earlier, he did not take favorites. But if you were not a favorite, and also not a dispensable member of his harem… then what were you? “You do not bore me,” Sukuna frowned, his hand closing around the nape of your neck, his fingers curling into your tangled hair. “That is why I keep you, nothing more.”

In a moment of weakness, you responded to his callousness with bleeding sincerity. “I need you,” you confessed, your heart rioting in your chest at the thought of being so vulnerable in the face of his unfailing cruelty. “I need you to tell me who I am. What I am. I need to be yours to be anything at all.”

Sukuna seemed to be taken aback at your unprompted confession. He scowled, baring his canines, “You are nothing to me, I’d as soon crush you as fuck you.”

It was truth, plain and simple, and more of a response than you had expected him to entertain. You sighed, resigned, and leaned into him, your hands sliding over his powerful shoulders, your fingers curling into his hair. You knew you could not win. But at least you were in his arms, that had to count for something. “Your wish is mine as well, Sukuna-sama.”

When your lips touched his, he seemed unable or unwilling to play this game any longer. He closed his fingers in a cruel grip on your hair – a hold he seemed to favor -, controlling your movements. He leaned into the kiss, devouring you as promised, consuming and dominating you until you felt your knees go soft as butter – unable to support you. Sukuna’s grip on your hair and hip seemed to be all that was holding you aloft. As if to make good on his threat, you felt his sharp canines bury themselves into your lip, felt blood gush forth and drip down your chin, even as Sukuna sucked at the bleeding gash, drinking down your blood hungrily. The stabbing pain seared through you, accompanying a rush of endorphins to your mind – a mind that could make no sense at all of the jumbled mess of emotions spiraling through you.

Sukuna was the one who had taught you everything you knew about pleasure, and he had taught you that pleasure and pain went hand in hand. You were certain he could push you over the edge by inflicting pain alone. And so, even as Sukuna wounded you and drank of your blood, you could not help but moan into his mouth, light-headed and delirious with need.

You did not see how Sukuna’s eyes slid open, how he regarded you with a questioning gaze. How he began to grasp the truth of your confession - that you needed him to claim you far more than you desired to live. You relished pain, and might even welcome death, in exchange for identity – an identity only he could bestow.

Why did you become more interesting the more he dealt with you? Whenever he felt bored, he only had to summon you to sink his teeth into you, literally and figuratively.

“What will I do with you?” he muttered, scarcely realizing he had spoken against your mouth until you whispered back, “I find myself wondering much the same. Every time you look at me,” you swallowed the blood that pooled in your mouth, “every time you touch me.”

Sukuna took you in from head to toe through half-lidded eyes, as if truly seeing you for the first time since you had stepped into the hall. The clawed fingernail on his thumb traced along your hipbone and he frowned. “There’s not much left of you.” There was no pity in his voice, only complaint.

You did not respond. He was certainly aware of the fare that was to be expected in the dungeons. You’d always come out a little worse for the wear, but this was the first time he had left you there for weeks, and you had grown thinner as a result. But that was only to be expected, surely, he knew that?

“Tch,” he scowled, “shouldn’t a goddess be more resilient?”

“I’m not a goddess,” you reminded him.

“You are whatever I say you are,” his eyes burned with challenge, “Don’t forget it.”

You could not look away, you could not speak, you could scarcely breathe. Something had changed. You did not know quite what it was, but the standoff seemed to have passed and, in its place, there seemed to be a sense of acceptance, an admittance of the fact that your identity was somehow intertwined with his own, against all odds.

You were recalled to the moment as Sukuna snapped his fingers and a cursed spirit, sickly green in hue and covered with boils, spirited out of thin air at your side.

“Prepare a bath,” Sukuna frowned.

The cursed spirit stumbled over himself as he folded the hands of his six arms in a show of obeisance, mumbling a hasty agreement before disappearing altogether.

You waited awkwardly as Sukuna beheld you, his clawed hands running along your form, feeling where flesh had given way to bone during your stay in the dungeons. Your lip bled still, though he paid no heed until it dripped onto the back of his hand. An irritated sound escaped the back of his throat, and he brushed a thumb over your lip, sending coils of dark energy into your torn lip, sealing the flesh closed once more. His cursed energy was like the kiss of ice and sent shivers down your spine, without fail, each time he used it on you. It was a wonder that a force so malevolent was capable of healing at all, and you could feel it pulsing within you, more faintly with each beat, until it dissipated inside you.

You could not help the choked sound that escaped your lips. You had missed him. His touch, his cruelty, the taste of his dark energy. He was far more intoxicating, far more potent than the noxious smoke you had seen the priests partake in on occasion. And far more dangerous.

“You’re weak,” Sukuna scowled, as if confronted for the first time with the reality of your human nature.

You felt heat rush to your face. Hopefully he had not heard the shameful sound you had made. It would not do for you to appear desperate.

“I am only mortal,” you admitted, hoping to distract from your misstep, “you have proven the weakness of our kind at great length these last few years.”

“You dare complain?”

“No, my lord. I simply state the obvious. My kind is not enduring.”

“Hmph.” He released you finally, and your skin almost immediately mourned the loss of his touch. “And yet, you have lived where other women have died.”

You could not quite wrap your mind around that admission. Had he attempted to torment other women the way he had with you? And had they died at his hands? You did not quite know what it would take to kill you. Before Sukuna, you had had no experience with illness, pain, or death. And now, it seemed a given that when Sukuna took you apart, he would put you back together again. When he split your flesh open, he would seal it once more. Why did the others die? Or rather, why did you survive?

Before you could put the matter to question, a pop and wisps of green smoke announced the return of the imp along with other cursed spirits that seemed female in nature.

They had spirited along a large tub of water and several glass bottles of varying tinctures and perfumes. At a nod from Sukuna, they tore your robe from your shoulders, revealing your grimy, naked form to the attendants present – and worse, to Sukuna’s watchful, crimson eyes. The spirits crowded around you, some with rough rags, others with coarsely bristled brushes, and others still taking the various bottles in hand to spill their contents on your head, your shoulders, on the rags they held. Without waiting for a signal, they began scrubbing at your body, purging you of the filth of the dungeons. Thin, spindly fingers massaged your scalp, verbena-scented suds spreading through your hair. The rags and brushes seemed to scrape the skin from your flesh and yet, you could not truly pay them heed, entranced as you were by the way Sukuna’s gaze followed their hands as they scrubbed at your back. His eyes taking in the trace of the suds they drew over your abdomen, the thorough washing between your breasts, soap suds trailing down the length of your legs, the rag washing between your thighs…

It was a different kind of humiliation, to be so intently observed by him, to be so naked in the middle of the hall for all present to see. And even without looking at him, you could feel his gaze on your skin, the way it prickled beneath his intent stare. Finally, they poured bucketfuls of warm water over you, washing away the suds. Sukuna seemed not to care that the scarlet rug running the length of the hall was soaked, or that water was pooling at your feet and flowing towards him. Did he ever care for consequences, when he wanted something?

He crossed over to you and traced your protruding hipbones with a long, black fingernail once more. His frown revealed – likely without his knowing – that he somewhat regretted putting you away for so long. He liked to sink his claws into you, to bury his fangs in you… He could hardly do that when you were almost nothing but skin and bone with no soft flesh to fill his hands with.

His eyes traced your form leaving a trail of burning desire on your skin as his gaze burned a path up your navel, over your dripping breasts, your exposed collarbones, your swollen lips, before at last meeting your eyes. The very world around you seemed to flicker like a mirage as you held his gaze and in the blink of an eye, you were no longer standing on sodden carpet, but in the baths attached to his very own chambers, where innumerable candles were set all along the perimeter of the room, on tables, counters, and windowsills. The flickering, dim light filled the chamber with equal parts light and shadow, that flickered on your faces in turn.

In the center of the room was a basin in the ground, lined by emerald tiles, each with a golden pattern swirling through the green. The basin itself was a bath of sorts, large enough for three at least. It was filled with steaming water that was pale mint in color – an herbal bath it would seem. Rose petals were scattered across the water’s surface, and the scent of earthy herbs as well as a faint note of citrus wafted over in the steam to greet you, almost beckoning you closer.

The sound of water sloshing caught your attention and you turned to see Sukuna lowering himself into the bath. He leaned against the slabs of stone behind him and rested an arm on either side of himself as he released a barely audible, content sigh. Your expression softened. He really was always at attention, braced for violence, muscles tensed in anticipation of battle. You could imagine how the steaming bath water must provide him some rare relief.

He ran a hand through his russet hair and your gaze caught on the droplets of water that seemed to trace down the prominent veins of his muscular forearm. At ease, as he was, his head tipped back, his unruly hair swept back by the residual water of his hand, you were dazed by his inhuman beauty. His features were undeniably those of nobility, a king in the truest sense, you could not help but ask yourself how it was possible for a man so cold and cruel to be so undeniably beautiful. Even the black markings on his face only served to accentuate his bold features.

His dark lashes lifted, and those carmine eyes seemed to pierce right through you, pinning you in place. Unable and unwilling to escape from his all-encompassing gaze, you merely stood before him, drinking him in. He did not beckon you closer, or say so much as a word, but the command in those eyes was clear. “Come.”

And so, you did.

Dipping your toes into the water, the warmth seemed to pull you in, melting you down to your very bones as you stepped fully into the bath. You were keenly aware of his eyes on you as you lowered yourself into the murky waters of the herbal bath, concealing your nakedness. Heat rushed through you that you could not fully attribute to the temperature of the water. You hoped he would not see that the tips of your ears had gone red - and that he would not recognize it for what it was.

You drew closer still, drawn in by an inexplicable magnetism as if his dark essence were a black hole sucking in your very soul. He never took his eyes off of you for a moment, and the effect was intoxicating as he waited, watching, like a predator tolerating his prey frolicking before him in a delusion of safety, not yet in a mood to disillusion it.

You had missed him. You always did. His power was your lifeline. His invincibility, your shield. In his shadow, you were safe from all but him. And you never wanted to be safe from him – as foolish as you recognized that sentiment to be. Water dripped from your fingers as you reached for him, gingerly tracing the inky markings on his face. You ran a delicate fingertip along the line of his jaw, traced his cheekbones with your thumbs, followed those symbols line for line until you could draw them with your eyes closed. When your fingers journeyed lower exploring those same markings on his chest, he tipped his head back, relishing in the sensation.

You remembered the blonde whose hands had brushed past these same markings and your stomach burned with a nauseating, possessive ire. You wanted to purge her touch from his skin, wanted to burn her very image from the scroll of existence until nothing remained but a scorch mark. You leaned in closer to him, replacing your fingers with your lips, and trailed mindless kisses along those symbols, and then, growing bolder still, traced them with your tongue. When a wordless murmur of appreciation spilled past Sukuna’s parted lips, you glowed with pride.

“On your knees, goddess.” Sukuna growled, overcome with desire. What little patience he had, decidedly spent.

You acquiesced, sinking to your knees, the water just above your elbow. He opened his eyes, taking you in, the goddess kneeling in the water before him, water dripping from your hair, disappearing between your breasts. The way your eyes were caught on his shaft, the head of it just peeking out from the water’s surface.

“Well?” he began, seeing your hesitation - that ever present mocking tone painfully apparent. “Should I call in someone else?”

Your eyes snapped towards him, irritated, and he grinned in the face of your upset. You lifted a hand to his member and wrapped your fingers around it - frowning because of course your fingers didn’t close around it - and pleasing him with your mouth, as he was clearly expecting you to, would be a herculean effort. You could see, even without looking at him, that challenging grin on his face and the malicious spark in his eyes.

You alleviated his boredom, he had said, but the thing was – you liked surprising him. You reveled in the expression he made when you defied expectations. When you jumped headfirst into whatever he expected you to balk at. And ever since he had broken you so thoroughly on that table months ago, you no longer feared pain – you feared only abandonment, being discarded as a pawn that had outlived its use by the only one that could seal every split and crack within you with nothing more than his dark aura. The one who could fill you so thoroughly with himself, with his cursed energy, that you thought you might forget having ever felt empty.

The lives of the world were forfeit, their villages were forfeit - all that mattered was staying by his side, drunk on his power, for as long as you were able.

You bowed your head beneath the water and held your breath as you licked up the underside of his shaft, slowing as you reached the bulbous head and broke through the water’s surface. You traced the tip of your tongue along its slit. Sukuna hissed and his head tipped back once more. His muscles tensed, and this time, it was your turn to grin. Using both hands, you cupped his shaft again, and closed your mouth around the head of his cock. Your jaw immediately ached at being stretched so wide but the grunted curse that echoed throughout the bath chamber spurred you on. Water dripped from your face, and you knew you would have to time your breathing precisely to survive this encounter.

Your hands ran along his length with your movements as your head bobbed up and down. Up – you inhaled through your nose, swirled your tongue around the head, twisted your hands, and breathed. Down – your ears filled with water, you exhaled, took him in as deep as you could, and squeezed the remaining length of his shaft between your hands. Again. Again. Again. The guttural sounds that fell unguarded from those proud lips hummed right through you like the most potent drug, driving you to continue. You were feeling quite skilled and proud of yourself, you could do this – you could have him helpless beneath your ministrations.

And then one of his hands gripped the back of your head.

Panic was the first thing that shot through you. Sukuna, in the throes of his lust, would not care if you could breathe. A second hand fell on your shoulder, and you opened your mouth to remind him that you were human, that you were breakable, that you could die – but not fast enough. One moment you saw him, his head still tipped back, two arms resting on either side of him as the other two held you firm, and the next – nothing but water as that impossible length thrust into your mouth, straight towards your throat. You gagged underwater and thrashed, trying to free yourself, if only for a moment, to breathe, to try again with warning, but Sukuna had no cares for your distress. He was concerned only with his own release and if he registered your existence at all, then only as a means to an end.

He attempted again and again, to penetrate the narrow canal of your throat, each thrust only worsening the sensation, your body rebelling against such abuse. Water splashed everywhere as you writhed, desperate for a breath of air, but by the third thrust your throat gave way with an awful popping sound, dulled by the pressure of the water against your ears. The awful penetration was intense, it hurt so terribly that your core tightened in false anticipation of the pleasure that usually followed on the heels of pain.

You struggled to regain some semblance of calm, knowing only a level head would help you hold out long enough to breathe again. But each time he thrust into your throat, your body convulsed in protest, and your lungs burned for air. He pushed your head down with more force as he approached his release, his hips bucking as he drove more forcefully into you, not noticing as your thrashing slowed, your strength ebbing.

You dimly felt his release, as if from beyond a veil. You heard a growl of pleasure, loud enough to shake the walls, loud even through the water. You felt the way his shaft twitched as copious amounts of thick, bitter fluid gushed down your throat. You registered distantly the way it continued pulsing against the walls of your throat even in the aftershocks of his pleasure. And then you felt nothing at all. Not even a sense of relief when his cock finally pulled free from your lips.

Sukuna exhaled, a breathy sound of relief, slow and drawn out – rough around the edges. He dragged a hand through his hair as the world came back into focus. The cool air of the chamber in contrast to the dizzying warmth of the bath, steam still rising, made him acutely aware of each droplet of water where it clung to his skin. He felt alive, powerful, every inch of him thrumming with an energy he only knew when he gave in to his baser urges with you.

You.

Sukuna cocked his head to the side as he took in the sight of you, your wet hair clinging to the skin of your back as you floated, face down, in the bath before him. He frowned. You were not weak. He knew that. Or else, how could you dare to tempt him, knowing you were not a fitting receptacle for his lust – knowing the most fleeting of touches was enough to cost you your feeble life?

You approached him readily, spread your legs for him willingly, and only rarely begged for your life in the face of certain death – uncertain if your climax or the reaper would reach you first.

“Tch.” The sound left his lips unwillingly. He wasn’t ready to let you go yet. You had been the first of his harem, and he was ever expanding it, hoping to find another like you. But there didn’t seem to be another temptress like you on the face of this wretched earth, one who craved him above all else. Above any mortal bonds, misguided virtues, or sense of identity or dignity. You clung to him like he was your salvation – and not your destruction. Your desperation amused him. Everything about you did, and he was not ready to go back to being bored again.

He buried his long fingers into your thick hair, black, sharp fingernails scraping against your scalp as he pulled you out of the water, towards himself. You were alive, albeit barely. And his clear, sanguine gaze roamed the length of you. He was ancient, and he had seen nearly everything there was to see in his centuries of existence. If he didn’t crave the sensation of blood on his skin with a maddening intensity as he did, the mortals might have considered him a god. As it was, he liked the insides of people better than their outsides.

You were a rare exception, he mused as he dragged a pointed, black talon upwards along your skin, past your hipbones, up your navel, along the curve of your swollen breasts, teasing along your collarbones, before drawing to a stop at the prominent veins running down the column of your lovely throat – all the more appealing to his eyes for its fragility. Like glass so thin it might crack with a breath. If your skin tensing beneath his touch was not proof enough, the pulse beneath his finger confirmed – you were alive, still.

Good.

He was far from done with you.

He flipped your positions with no regard to your unconscious state. Your upper body sprawled along the marble tiles, water dripping from you and pooling beneath you as he positioned himself between your legs. Two powerful arms braced on either side of your immobile form as one of his hands gripped your hips, lifting you to meet him as the fourth hand spread your legs for him.

You would have enjoyed this, he thought, if you were awake.

The head of his cock, alert and ready for a second round, prodded at your entrance. Sukuna’s ruby eyes were fixed on your expression, waiting for the moment you jerked back to life. Would it be with a scream of agony or ecstasy? The not knowing was as delicious as the anticipation. He knew he could bring you back from either.

His second cock sprang to life, rubbing against your slit and brushing against your clit as the first member made its way inside you with slow, lazy thrusts. He released your hip and placed a hand against your back, his spread fingers mirroring the bones of your ribcage. He could crush it beneath his hand as easily as he had the head of that shrew who had mouthed off against you. Ruining the moment that had been weeks in planning.

How he had wanted to drag you before him. To see the jealousy in your eyes as he adorned himself with meaningless whores. He had wanted to fuck them in front of you until you begged him to stop – or to take you instead – or to… what? He didn’t know, but he would have eaten up your response regardless. You were terrified of him, he knew, but instead of running from him, you ran towards him.

He ran his tongue along his teeth, hungry for you again. He was beginning to realize it was a hunger that could never be sated. A hunger that might be turned against him if anyone caught on. If you commanded anything more than his passing interest, would you be considered his weakness?

He remembered the feel of the blue harlot’s skull imploding beneath his fingers. Blood gushing to the floor, shards of her skull cutting at his hand, only for the scrapes to be healed immediately by his cursed energy. And between the dripping blood, your eyes meeting his evenly, boldly, unafraid of the sudden display of violence.

Were you his weakness?

The thought prompted something akin to anger within him. He had no weaknesses. With a violent thrust, he sheathed himself within you. Halfway inside you, the head of his cock barred by the end of your velvet core, Sukuna was met with a burning need for more. To prove to himself, to you, to anyone who would dare to surmise otherwise – that you were nothing.

The shaft of his second cock rubbed against your clit, as it slid up and down your belly, the head of his member nestling between your breasts – caged between them and the cool, wet marble beneath you. With each thrust, it slipped up and down between your mounds, heightening Sukuna’s pleasure. The first member pounded into you with abandon, sledgehammering into your body, your unconscious body slamming against the marble with each reckless thrust.

Your eyes flew open in shock as a violent cough consumed you, expelling the water from your lungs. The burning sensation between your legs and a fiery agony in your core confirmed, you were up to your throat in Sukuna’s cock. Drowning in him in an entirely different way. You tried to brace yourself against the marble and lift your body, but Sukuna’s callous hand against your back crushed you back down to the ground ruthlessly, the marble cracking beneath you – or was that just your ribs?

There was pleasure too, ungodly pleasure through the pain. The kind you relished. You groaned despite yourself. Sure, you had nearly died only moments ago. But that was moments ago - almost an eternity ago already. Now you were being crushed beneath him, beneath his gaze, beneath his ministrations.

You turned your head to the side, the only freedom of movement you were allowed and met his eyes. You were reminded of that day so long ago, when he had taken you in your own temple, against a table not quite so hard as the marble beneath you. The way he had met your eyes with a curious gaze then.

This was different.

There was a burning fury in his eyes. A demonic possessiveness. As if the devil had been taken by the devil. He seemed intent to burrow his way straight through you. To prove something to someone, likely himself. Did he want your body, your blood, or both?

How badly you wanted to give whatever it was he would ask of you.

Your lips fell apart and nothing but short, breathy gasps fled your mouth each time he rolled his hips and plowed into you, his grip on your back for purchase, as another held onto your leg still, opening you wide for him as he thrust deeper into you, turn for turn.

A feral growl burned from his chest as the messy, slapping noise of skin against skin echoed through the chamber, water splashing over both of you.

There was an end to your cavern, but Sukuna did not seem to care. His pleasure took precedence over your anatomy, he pounded against your cervix, not caring when your body shook violently with pain, except to pin you more firmly in place.

How your brain was capable of processing such torturous pain at the same time as the heights of pleasure, you did not know. Your mind was a foggy place filled with nothing but the steam of the chamber, the water growing even hotter with the energy rolling off of him in waves and the scent of him, the feel of him, all around you. This would be a good way to go, a dark voice whispered within you.

That second cock pulsing between your breasts, rubbing against your clit again and again in time with the violation of his thick, thick shaft within you was an unholy combination that teased you higher and higher, until you cared not for the pain, for the trembling of your rebellious body. It didn’t understand - the pain was worth it, it was delicious.

The syllables of his name burst from your lips in small, delicious, agonized gasps, as the heat coiling within you tightened further and further into a madness only his brutality could release you from.

You fell from the precipice, shattering around his monstrous cock, at the very same moment that he penetrated your cervix.

Whether it was a scream of climax or of agony, you could not say. It started as one and devolved very quickly into another. But Sukuna was far from satisfied.

Even before your climax had truly ended, the agony tore through you. Tears pooled and streamed from your cheeks in mere moments. The pain was too much. You were too weak. You whimpered miserably. Hot tears mingling with the cool droplets of water that had dripped to the marble.

“Now, now…” Sukuna purred, his mask of mockery not firmly in place through his brutal anger, “don’t give up so soon.”

You sucked in a pained breath as Sukuna slid out of your womb only to bite down on your tongue, muffling a pained scream as he slammed back into that inviolable part of you.

He lifted your face from the marble, drool and tears falling from your face, contorted in pain. “Didn’t you say you were my whore?” he tutted. “What use is a whore if I can’t even fuck you properly?”

There was rage you could not place. Why was he so angry? Had he been holding back all this time? Was this what Sukuna was like when he gave in to his urges? Was this what he needed of you?

“What was it you wanted again?” he growled into your ear. “Identity?” The playful mask was more firmly in place now, concealing the fury that still thrummed beneath the surface.

“Is it worth this?” You felt his tip brush the opposite wall of your womb and bit down on a whimpering sob.

“Aw,” Sukuna mocked, slowing. “Do you want me to stop?”

You knew, without knowing how, that he would kill you if you agreed. This was some sort of twisted ultimate test. A game he was playing with himself, to find out what you were worth.

You’d be damned if you were going to lose.

You were losing sensation in your legs, your ribcage burned – there was definitely something broken – and your throat burned still from his earlier abuse, but you had a fire of your own within you that refused to cool. A blaze that sometimes wanted to swallow the world and spit out the ashes. You’d been raised a goddess, abandoned as an appeasement, and twisted into a slave and a whore. No pain of the body could compare.

There was nothing you couldn’t take.

“Why?” you seethed, your eyes meeting his with the combined, burning resolve of the Furies of legend, a growl of your own building in your throat, “getting tired?”

He did pause, then, his wrath giving way – however briefly – to surprise. He stilled, his lips curved into a smirk, and then his shoulders shook as he tipped his head back with laughter. It echoed against the walls and fell, cruelly metallic, back to your ears.

“That’s the spirit!” he barked, finally, and using his grip on your hair as an anchor pummeled into you. With even less regard for your well-being, he clearly had every intent of impaling you on his cock – in the literal sense of the word.

A slit on his abdomen teased open, a smirk playing against your posterior, that long, thick tongue you had become very familiar with teasing between the mounds of your backside, seeking out the puckered entrance beyond. One of Sukuna’s hands drew back to clap against the smooth skin and the resounding sting seemed to spread upwards and through you. But it was so tame in comparison to the pain of your insides being rearranged, that it was almost a sensation of relief.

His tongue prodded at your anus and penetrated the tight ring of muscle with something like a laugh as the wet, thick muscle, slid along the tight walls within you, sliding deeper than should have been possible, in and out, further and further along with each poking thrust, wriggling deeper inside of you, tasting every inch of you.

You were completely out of your mind. With the one cock pleasuring itself between your breasts, the tongue inside of your intestines, and the second cock stretching the walls of your womb to their outer limits – it was a wonder you were still conscious at all.

Your tongue lolled out of your mouth and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He was everything, he was everywhere, there was nothing and no one but him. He could have you, he could consume you, he could kill you and keep your corpse to fuck as he pleased. There was nothing he could ask of you that you would not give. They had been lying to you all along, you knew, the Great Evil was your purpose, not to vanquish, but to be consumed completely by it. No heaven could compare, the goddess Terraria be damned. She would have gotten on all fours for him, too, if she could – begging for the favor of his cock.

But she couldn’t, because he had chosen you and you alone.

And then he tore through the walls of your womb.

There was a scream so loud it hurt your ears. You wanted to ask for it to stop but couldn’t work your mouth to form the words – and then you realized you were the one screaming. The anguish was like nothing, the delirium of the pain was addling your brain. You wondered if you were dying.

Sukuna did not stop.

Your scalp burned from him dragging you up by the hair without pause. Your leg ached as he arched it up and used it to anchor himself as he pumped deeper and deeper into you. How you had the presence of mind to register either of those sensations was a wonder to you.

Your scream was never-ending, the need for breath was secondary. Sukuna laughed, loving the sound of your agony. He bent low to kiss the throat that bled such a beautiful, awful sound and then he bit into your flesh, eyes gleaming at the scarlet ambrosia that spilled from your lovely veins.

He tore into you, pain upon pain. Through your stomach, up your esophagus – and now you could truly feel him in your throat.

And then he came with a shudder, a groan of release reached your ears, soft and intimate and lovely. You felt his release everywhere – or rather you no longer knew where one part of you ended and another began. So attuned to his sensations, his desires, his lust as you were, you too, climaxed through the pain, tremors running through your body as he let you drop back onto the cold tiles. You were in heaven and hell at the same time. It was so like Sukuna to take you there.

You opened your eyes blearily and recognized that the marble had indeed cracked. Just like your ribs. A cough tore through you, pain intensified exponentially by your ravaged insides and when you spit up the blockage, your eyes focused enough to recognize – blood and cum.

When he finally pulled out of you, the one thing stemming your bleeding was torn mercilessly away and blood gushed forth from you with abandon. Blackness tinged the edges of your vision almost immediately at such sudden loss of blood, as your body registered how thoroughly it had been wrecked. Sukuna’s second member, still pulsing, pulled away from between your breasts and the tongue that had been nestled inside your intestines also slipped back out, disappearing inside Sukuna’s abdomen once more. He took hold of you, almost gently, by your shoulders, and turned the two of you back around until you were draped limply over his chest as he leaned back against the cracked marble. He curled your wet hair around his fingers thoughtfully, as the thumb of another hand stroked your shoulder almost comfortingly. You noted dimly that you had been right, this was a good way to go. His eyes fell to yours, meeting your gaze with an intensity you had not thought possible.

When his eyes roamed over you and stopped between your legs, you followed his gaze. It was so much more blood than you had realized. The minty green water was spoiled almost all the way through with coils of thick, red blood. Enough to dye almost the entire bath. There was nothing beautiful left of this bath chamber.

“Why not ask me to stop?” Sukuna murmured, so quietly you only heard it because of how close his lips were to your ear.

You swallowed thickly. You were tired. Tired, physically, of course, but also tired of the lies that had built up your entire life. Sukuna had been the only truth in your life – a brutal, cruel, ruthless truth. But a truth, nonetheless. Was it so strange that you would rather be a true whore than a false goddess? Maybe your sense of gratitude towards him was foolish and mistaken, but it was there.

“I didn’t want you to.” You admitted, your voice almost lost with your fading consciousness.

Sukuna was silent a moment, stroking your hair away from your forehead as your eyes fluttered closed, listening to his heartbeat as your own faded away.

“Do you still want it?” he muttered, almost hesitating despite himself. That his hesitation was for your sake went completely over your head. With great difficulty, you opened your eyes one last time in confusion. “Identity?” he added, a frown on his beautiful, proud lips, the black markings on his face smooth as the plane of his forehead as he regarded you distantly, making a decision you could not possibly weigh. “I won’t take it back even if you beg.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but your body lacked the resources to bring them to life. Instead, you nodded with what strength you had left. You would always want identity - a true identity - given by none other than Sukuna himself.

Then your eyes closed for a final time as an exhausted breath fell silently from your lips. Sukuna watched you quietly a moment longer, considering your request. A lock of pink hair fell over his forehead as he ran a hand up and down your lifeless arm.

You did not know what you were asking for, but he did. It would be cruel of him, selfish. He paused in a moment of uncharacteristic, unprecedented mercy. But when did he deny himself something he wanted?

Mind made up, he lifted a hand and poised a black fingertip over your chest, beneath which your heart lay hidden, resting at last. All concern for your eventual regret dismissed, Sukuna dragged the sharp talon over your skin, splitting the flesh and revealing the life-giving organ beneath. Why not bind you to his side for all eternity? It was what he wanted and what he wanted was all that mattered.

He cut open your heart, revealing the chambers of the muscle in their final twitches of life. A black smirk twisted his features. Why not? Why not treat himself? Why not enslave you?

He curled the fingers of his hand into a fist, piercing the palm of his own hand until he drew blood. He opened his fist and watched with eager greed as the inky blood that had pooled in his palm dripped down into your open heart.

It took only moments for his cursed energy to do its work. It swirled around you, sealing your heart back shut with a snap, sewing your skin together above it until not even a blemish remained. Your back arched as your heart pumped Sukuna’s blood through you, tainting your own. Your very body raised off of him slightly, lifted upwards by the dark energy coursing through you, healing every wound and injury throughout your ruined body.

The flow of blood that had been spilling out between your legs ceaselessly, stopped abruptly, and the red and green water dissolved into nothing but an inky black surrounding the two of you. Sukuna’s smirk gave way to an unapologetic grin as he watched you change before his eyes, beneath his hands – entirely his. Unbreakable now.

With a gasp, your eyes flew open as a different kind of pain surged through you – a pain akin to anger at its very extremes. Light shone from your form, intermingling with the darkness, burning through your skin. An anguished groan left your lips as you fought the foreign influence, but it was fast, it was powerful. It was Sukuna himself inside you – although in an entirely different way.

And because it was Sukuna, you let him have you. You let him flow through every inch of your being and embraced him – alive, elated, enlightened. It wasn’t unlike a climax to have him delve so intimately into your being, settling into your very nerves, your pores, between your cells. You were alight with him and it was euphoria like nothing you had ever known.

When the delicious torment had finished coursing through you, leaving nothing but the tantalizing tendrils of his being lingering just beneath your skin. You were suddenly awake like you had never been before. Awareness flooded you, of the birds beyond the bath chamber, the water dripping onto the tiling, and Sukuna’s heart thudding darkly, so close to you. You turned on him – suddenly ravenous for him. Needing ever more of him to replace the cursed energy that had stopped coursing through you with such intensity. You wanted him to give you more, to consume you or let you consume him – you weren’t sure which.

You straddled his hips and pinned him against the marble at his back – suddenly stronger than you had ever been – and pressed your mouth to his, with a hunger like nothing earthly. Still, there was an anger within you, just beneath the surface, like a living being, waiting to be provoked to life. His anger, you realized. It was the rage you glimpsed every now and then between his mocking smiles and punishing caresses. An emotion that always lived with him – one you now shared.

You groaned into his mouth, running your tongue along his teeth, biting at his lip, teasing his tongue with your own – coaxing him to fight back, to battle with you, to play with you. But he merely leaned back with a smirk, enjoying your little rush of need. He kissed you back leisurely, slowing down when you needed speed, and gentling his touch when you craved wild, reckless abandon. The damned contrarian. He was doing it just to upset you, you knew.

A growl built in your throat, and he heard it, his grin widening.

“Well, would you look at that?” he muttered, the surprise in his voice causing your eyes to open as well. His expression gave you pause, stemming the raging need within you.

Something was wrong.

You didn’t know what he was seeing, but the look in his eyes scared you, more than anything you had experienced since you had come to know him. It made you feel like you had made an awful, irreversible mistake. It made you want to tear the skin from your face without quite knowing why.

“Looks like there was something of the divine in you after all, goddess.” There was a mocking tone to his low voice, his hushed murmur intimate and forbidden. His breath against your ear sent an icy shiver racing down your spine. His cruel intonation, just the way his voice sounded when he was testing the limits of your capacity for pain, heightened your sense of alarm. Something was terribly, terribly wrong and Sukuna sounded as if it was not at all a surprise to him. You whirled towards the water trying to see a glimpse of your reflection in its inky black, trying to see what he had seen. You held your breath, waiting for the ripples to settle, waiting in horrified anticipation.

And there it was. Whatever he had done to you had changed you. There were black markings on your face, not unlike his own, if somewhat more delicate in appearance, across your collarbones and wrists as well, the design of which cut off abruptly here and there. Your hair and your eyes, too, had gone an inky black, not unlike the water the two of you were submerged in. But interlaced through the black locks were strands of white, stark in contrast – and almost cruel to look at. Just like your left iris, which seemed to have been cut through a third of the way with white, leaving that eye half-black, half-white.

You did not need Sukuna to tell you what it meant. He had turned you into something demonic with his cursed energy, but it had not been able to take over completely because somewhere within you, unbeknownst to you, the power of the goddess had slumbered.

The temple had not been lying to you.

Your world turned on its head as you struggled to come to grips with the meaning of this awful realization.

Sukuna’s hands curled along your waist to meet at your midsection. You saw in the water’s reflection the way he watched over your shoulder as your hands dragged down your face in abject horror. Ever a grin on his lips at your torment.

“You knew this?” you gasped in disbelief. Had he not been the one to disillusion you? To tell you that you were no more than a woman?

Sukuna bent his head to nip at the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Have I ever pretended otherwise, goddess?” he teased against your skin.

The nickname was jarring, and you suddenly realized why he had never given it up. He had known all along what you were. And perhaps destroying your belief in yourself, was how he had broken you down in the first place, defeating you with barely any effort at all. Had you truly attempted to fight him after he dispelled your divine barrier or had that simply been enough for you to concede defeat, convinced you that you were in the wrong place, fighting someone else’s battle?

Now here you were, in the arms of the very one generations of worshippers had prayed for you to defeat, tainted entirely with his blood, his energy. Already, he was parting your legs again, ready to partake of you, liking you even more in this tainted state.

You tipped your head back against his shoulder despite yourself, still wanting him, despite everything. Still willing to give yourself over to the evil that you had been cautioned against your entire life. “Am I a goddess, Sukuna?” you whimpered, the vaulted ceiling above you blurred as tears pooled in your eyes.

His fingers found the apex of your thighs, fully healed now.

“Not anymore,” he laughed cruelly, and you felt your heart breaking into pieces. His fingers slid along your slit, pleased to have been gifted a blank, uninjured slate.

“Then, what - ?” Tears spilled over your cheeks but the question died on your lips as his fingers found their way inside you. Your eyes slid shut and a breathy moan echoed throughout the chamber as your back arched in pleasure. Whatever he had done to you had heightened your sensations exponentially, as your body responded to him in a way that was wholly unnatural, as if every inch of your being was poised in limbo, waiting perpetually for his touch, waiting to submit to him always.

“Mine,” was the answer growled into your ear. The reverberations burned into you through his chest, his voice vibrating through your ear, down your exposed throat.

And then he took you as if that was the only thing that was true, the only thing that mattered.

----------------------------------------

Power.

It spilled out of you, from your very fingertips. Part Sukuna and part something that was entirely your own. Something had broken within you. You saw now, the pieces that made up your being. The divinity, the curse – and the broken woman between the two. All of those were you.

When Sukuna re-entered his harem, with you at his side, a hushed silence fell over the assembled. You had no patience for the harlots before you. Too many of them, no different from the girl in blue who had learned her lesson too late. They, all of them, had made eyes at Sukuna and worse – plotted to have you removed from his side. Sidling up to him coyly as you had seen. They didn’t know about the undying rage within you, how you waited for it to be provoked, to justify a lashing out of power, to give reason to the destruction you longed to unleash.

You saw her one moment, a lovely blonde – the same whose fingers had traced the markings on Sukuna’s chest - whispering something to another behind her hand, her eyes on you. The next moment, the candlelight flickered, and a scream tore through her as the ground at her feet softened, drawing her in. Horror filled her eyes as she struggled to make sense of her predicament. Some eyes amongst the gathering flicked towards you, piecing two and two together.

You made it slow; it was more satisfying that way. She sunk down to her knees, clawing at the flagstones around her, begging for help, but her friends only staggered backward, terrified to be the next to face your ire. She was up to her neck before she turned her helpless gaze toward you, begging for mercy.

But you weren’t feeling merciful.

You did not even glance at Sukuna as the rest of them turned towards you, unsure where to place you, struggling to make sense of the changed hierarchy. But it had changed, and you were feeling charitable enough to educate them on it.

Darkness seemed to gather wherever you focused your anger, your power. And the cursed spirit that was looking at you in disbelief was next. Lest the fools think only mortals were under your thumb.

Not being human, he caught on a bit quicker, and almost immediately began begging for his life. His gaze caught between Sukuna’s mirth and your wrath. Burying him alive would be boring – you had already done that once. What if you crushed him as Sukuna had done? You wondered what that would feel like. You concentrated the air around him, formed it into a solid, invisible cage, and shrunk it bit by bit. You watched the agony contort his face, watched his body shrink in turn, until blood spilled from the split skin of his crushed form – until his bones broke; until there was nothing left to hurt. His screams had abated, and that was the end.

Tch.

You searched for your next target and found that everyone in the room had gone silent and had fallen to the floor, prostrating to you. You frowned and turned to Sukuna, suddenly understanding his awful, murderous boredom. There seemed to be nothing worse.

There was a broken, bitter part of you that mourned your lost mortality, your lost divinity. A part that only found relief when someone else was screaming. Sukuna would understand, and he did. It was ín the subtle inclination of his head, the smirk that teased his lips. His scarlet irises were pleased. He seemed so taken with you that you found it hard to care for the parts of yourself you had lost.

He nodded towards the plateau before you, upon which sat a throne that seemed to have been built into the very ground itself, large enough for two to sit comfortably side by side. It was overlaid with gold, but you suspected stone or iron lingered beneath that. It was the only explanation you could come up with for the formidable seat. High-backed and elegant, intricate designs were fashioned into the metal, inlaid with rubies and diamonds, and cushioned with embroidered red velvet. It was the throne he had sat upon when demanding you service others, but that memory felt centuries old. Distant, irrelevant.

This was the largest kingdom Sukuna had conquered to date and the throne room represented that accurately with its luxury. The palatial chamber was built in such a way as to carry the voice of whoever sat on that throne to every corner of the court. Structured so that wherever you stood, you faced the central figure perched upon that seat of power. The fool who had ruled here had seen to that, assuring that no one dared to turn their backs on him, assuring that he had all present in his view from his elevated seat of power. Perhaps, it was justified in a sense. This kingdom was a hub of trade and wealthy in resources. Not only that – it was located central to the neighboring kingdoms, strategically situated for negotiation, attack, or defense, but Sukuna cared little for that. A throne was no better than chains to him.

Sukuna glanced over his shoulder at the assembly and the bloodlust glinting in his ruby irises was a warning enough to have them scrambling to clear the room. A command they read clearly.

Cowards. Bloodlust of your own still itched in your fingertips, and you longed to see what havoc you could wreak.

The king of curses led you up the few steps to the throne, stopping just before it. He withdrew a hand from where it rested in the crook of his white robe and took hold of yours. Lifting it up to his mouth, he brushed his lips over your knuckles, an action that sent shivers up your spine.

“Rule over this rabble for me,” he commanded, tightening his grip on your hand. Your gaze slid, unbidden over the throne beside you. He wanted you to rule? You could not fathom if it was kindness, generosity, or another form of punishment you had yet to wrap your head around. His mouth was set determinedly, and his eyes peered at you with no hint of that malicious mirth that usually lined his lovely scarlet eyes. There was nothing but earnestness within them, join me, they seemed to say, be on my side. Do as I do.

You held his gaze a moment and understood. He had no interest in ruling, in holding court over his subjects, in negotiating trade and regulations. His only interests were on the battlefield and between your legs. Rule for him and leave him free to cleave through his enemies, their screams echoing in his ears – his own version of nirvana.

You envied him for a moment, suddenly taken with a bloodlust of your own. How you would like to be beside him, cutting down the legions as you had seen him do. Blood and screams thick in the air. Afterwards, you would sate your lust with him in your tents. Each of you ravenous and still drenched in blood. Grappling for dominance until he overpowered you and the two of had had your fill of each other. Bloody and content until you did it all again the next day.

You still weren’t certain how much of these new facets of your personality were your own and how much of it was the natural consequence of Sukuna’s blood within you. It would be too simple to assume it was all his influence and you held no accountability for the dark desires burning within you. In truth, you knew a part of you had enjoyed this even before he had changed you so markedly. You had always enjoyed the display of power that was his wrath on the battlefield. And when his eyes had met yours on your travels, when he had taken you with blood still on his hands – you shivered at the thought. You had enjoyed that even when you were human. Even when you were divine.

But it wasn’t a goddess or a slave he was asking you to be now. Not even a reward for his loyal minions. No, now he was asking something else entirely.

“A queen?” you said quietly, turning from the throne to your maker. “Is that the identity you would bestow upon me?”

He smirked and took hold of your shoulders soothing his thumbs over the tension in your muscles. “I’ve stayed here too long,” he muttered, changing the subject as his hands meandered down your form and untied the sash around your waist. He pushed your robe from your shoulders leisurely, offering no explanation for his actions. Queen or goddess – he could have you whenever he wanted you, however he wanted you. He turned you, entirely naked now, towards the throne and you followed in the direction his hands guided you, struggling to understand what he was after.

He maneuvered you onto the throne, on your knees, holding onto the high back of the solid seat as he positioned himself behind you, his lips at your ear. You felt wickedly exposed and out of place and so you sighed with relief when the frigid air at your back was replaced with his solid, heated form. You wanted to kiss him, but his hand snaked around your neck, taking hold of your chin as he turned your face away from him, giving him access to your throat instead. He nibbled at your ear and nipped his way down your throat as he freed himself from the confines of his trousers, ready to take you on the very throne he was giving you. He ran his hand along his members, and the two fused into one. The very sight of his impossible girth had your heart dropping into your stomach. You could never have taken that before he had turned you.

“Would you like that?” he asked, as he sunk into you slowly, inch for delectable inch, running his tongue along your pulse as he did so. “For them to call you a queen?”

You moaned in delirious ecstasy. You could never have enough of him. Your insides made way for him, welcoming him, needing him. He had changed the very essence of your being. You needed him the way you needed air and water – he could take you anywhere, any way at all, and you would thank him for it.

You arched your back and rocked against him impatiently, feeling him filling your core more completely, and could not help the whines of pleasure that spilled freely from your lips. Sukuna held the sides of the high-backed throne and crushed you between himself and the soft velvet, allowing you to fuck yourself on his cock with a desperation you would have taken care to conceal before. His canines buried themselves in your throat, prompting fresh blood to spill forth and he closed his mouth over the wound, drinking it down greedily.

He rolled his hips into you, his need as great as yours, prompting more needy whimpers from you. It was never enough with him.

With reckless abandon, the two of you found your own rhythm as you pushed against him, driving yourself to new heights. You could feel him within you, deeper than should have been possible, you could see him bulging through your skin, see exactly how deep he was, and you pressed a hand to your skin in awe as you felt him thrust into you with abandon. The head of his shaft was within your very ribcage, you noticed dimly, intoxicated with lust and pleasure. The kind of penetration that had killed you once, but your new body could take the pain. Your new body was made for him.

Gasping, panting, you fell from the heights of ecstasy, tumbling down headfirst through shockwaves of pleasure. When Sukuna suddenly, unexpectedly, pulled away from you. You had less than a moment to grieve the loss of content as he slipped out of you and took hold of your shoulder, turning you until you were sitting properly on the throne. You looked up at him, confused and still dizzy with pleasure. This was where he belonged, standing over you, all enigmatic lethal beauty, looking down on you like a god in judgment. His cock in his hand, his face flushed with lust and desire, intensity burning in eyes as red as your blood that dripped from his lips – the sight of him had your pulse singing in wanton need - and then he came.

His copious seed doused your form entirely. Warm, sticky fluid gushed over your face, over your chest and legs – all over the throne you sat on. Shock and humiliation set in as you tried to make sense of what had transpired. Sukuna braced himself, still, with one hand on the back of the throne as he leaned over you. His cock still dribbling ejaculate onto you. He panted, catching his breath, and then his expression broke into a grin as he took in the sight of you.

Like a cum-drowned mouse.

He took hold of your chin and kissed you on the lips with a tenderness that belied your current state. “No matter who calls you a queen, sweetheart…” he purred, lingering at your lips, heedless of the sticky, white liquid dripping from your chin. “Don’t forget that this is the throne you rule from.”

He leaned lazily over you, reaching down to retrieve the crown on the floor, one he had discarded since occupying the castle. One that had remained there, worthless because Sukuna had deemed it so, and placed it on your dripping head.

“Don’t forget that you are my whore.”

You glanced up at him, your eyes full of wonder despite yourself. He was cruel – and you loved him for it.

“I might forget anyway,” you replied boldly, not bothering to make an attempt at cleaning yourself up. He was clearly enjoying the sight.

His ruby eyes glinted with mirth and malice – a sentiment you recognized now. That sensation you also felt every now and then. Give me a reason, it seemed to say, give me the slightest excuse to unleash my rage on you.

It was tiring keeping it in all the time. You understood.

You crossed your legs paying no mind to the stickiness between them, one over the other, every bit the stature of a queen, even crowned in gold, and robed in his seed.

“You’ll have to come back and remind me.”

A true laugh, short and surprised, fell from Sukuna’s lips. “Oh, I will,” he promised, his grin evidence of how much he was enjoying you. “You can be sure of that.” Both a promise and a threat – and sweeter than any lover’s confession.

Heat pooled in your belly at his assurance, and then without so much as another word, he disappeared.

He was truly gone. He hated being kept indoors, he hated courtiers, and he hated his own clean hands. He needed to be tearing into something, you knew, and so you understood when he went back to war like a lion to his prey. You could not ask him to stay.

You washed yourself and cleaned the throne – and then you ruled.

You oversaw all matters of state that so bored Sukuna and made sure his kingdom flourished. You were determined to have his approval when he saw the progress his capital had made. There was pleasure in all affairs of government for you. You seemed to have a natural affinity towards it. You soon established a reputation as a ruler who was equal parts harsh and fair. You did not relish taking the last sheep of some poor farmer, and so the peasants tended to welcome your rule. The rich and powerful, however, were another story entirely. As were the miscreants who resorted to crime. You relished the moments when a fool came to challenge you. You delighted in all the different ways there were to take a head from a body.

But those challenges soon came to be few and far between as word spread quickly – the Queen of Curses was not to be toyed with. Any slight, real or imagined, was met with a quick and cruel response. Their caution drove you mad with the need for violence. What was the purpose of the power buzzing in your veins, if you had no one to eviscerate with it? More often than you cared to admit, you envied Sukuna’s freedom on the battlefield. What you wouldn’t do to feel someone’s pulse slowing beneath your palms, to feel their blood running between your fingers. If you did not have challengers and fools to punish, what were you to do with this craving for bloodshed?

When boredom became too much to bear, you brought people out of the dungeons to fight to the death in the courtyard square. 18 prisoners fought one another, and you promised the victor freedom. It was a brilliant sight. Your eyes lit up at their desperation, their cunning – their violence. It reminded you of your beloved.

And when the victor kneeled before you, to receive your royal pardon, all exhaustion and weariness – you killed him, of course. There was no lie. It was a freedom, of sorts.

And of course, it would not do for word to reach Sukuna of you pardoning prisoners. On the contrary, you hoped he would hear of your cruelty, of your violence. You hoped it would make him lust for you and bring him back home.

And sometimes, it did. When he heard tell in hushed tones of the Queen of Curses’ latest cruelty. Some horror beyond imagining meted out on whoever had been fool enough to offend her, he hungered for you with a passion that left a trail of broken women in his wake – and still his lust was not sated.

He would be haunted by the image of you, that once pure, innocent face of a goddess stained with blood and smirking in pleasure as you took some fool apart piece for piece. As you murdered and tortured and wanted more still, as you listened to screams the way he did – as songs of praise to your power. And the need to take you, to fill you, to wreck your body with the ravages of his lust drove him to impatience and distraction – and nothing in the world could keep him from you then.

You knew this, of course.

And every time you meted out punishment, crueler than the last, you hoped this was the one that would bring your cursed king home. Because even if all the world called you the queen of curses, you were never more content than when you were his whore.

#sukuna #tw dubcon #tw humiliation #tw degradation #dead dove do not eat #sukuna x reader

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