#tw.marking

The burgundy walls and nice chandelier bloom like a flower when it gets dark out. It fits the business. Like moths to a flame, that warmth lures men with a promise of a warm body and expert secrecy, and usually that’s plenty. Luckily for you, most of them leave before their wives start to wonder, which means you don’t have to deal with the drunk and impatient by the time you come in for a shift by early morning. Your days are easy, if you pretend you don’t know what types of people stumble home from their rooms in the seedier back of the building. Smelling of booze and body fluids and most of all, sex. That’s how it is.

Sorcerers are people too, by your cousin’s words. He’s not wrong. By the types of people that come in and out of the doors day and night, he made a smart investment starting this place a few years ago, and you’re grateful to get to work here. There’s no place for small-fry cursed energy users out in the daylight— and you’re not exactly dying to lay your life down for others in the first place. It’s this, or even less savory jobs for those people like you, who see things that others don’t. You’re more than happy with a simple life sitting behind the front desk, and going home to crash before the grosser individuals have a chance to harass you.

Which is why your skin itches a bit when the soft cling of the bell sounds so late it’s early. You’ve barely had enough time to open the doors. For not the first time, there’s a soft buzz of a warning sign that greets you as you sigh. Isn’t 5 in the morning a little early for even the more degenerate types? You get up to hang your jacket in the back room as you hear heavy steps make it into the foyer, and swallow. The slight pulling of cold under your skin has your lips pressed tight, swallowing. They don’t ring the bell, don’t yell or break things, don’t even talk. But they also don’t turn to leave.

So you smooth your hands down your pants, and eventually walk back to your spot behind the counter. It’s still dark out, still has the uncomfortable pressure that lingers as you cast a quick glance around the room.

And all you see is eyes that pull a cold shiver up your spine so quick it freezes you in place. The dark figure is splayed out with his arms over one of the couches, but those sharp eyes don’t move an inch from you when you meet them. Narrowed in their cold, metal blue darkness, and all-consuming. The man is not young, not old - but definitely older than you, scarred and quiet, and you can’t help it- when that foul, dangerous taste wells up in your mouth in the form of saliva.

After only a few seconds, you grab the phone and ring a number one, taking it off the horn for your own safety. It rings as the man gets up with a sigh and walks towards you, only leaving the space of the desk between you two. There's a soft mumble on the other side of the call, but because the horn is pressed to your desk, you can’t make out exactly what’s said before the customer - you assume he’s a customer, judging by the foul sort of stench of death that follows him around - clears his voice.

Only a sorcerer can have that sort of smell, and no sorcerer would enter here if not out for one thing. You don’t normally do intake, you realize as your hand trembles just slightly. You leave the horn of the phone for a pen instead, and try to rid your throat of the thick block that pushes on your windpipe. “Welcome. How can I help you?”

The man’s hair is messy, lazy, much like his clothing is; and he takes a moment to look around before his eyes flick to the stack of notes before you, the phone, and then you again. “Ah, uhm. Are there rooms open this late? Or early, I guess.” He ends up saying, a bored sort of lilt to his deep voice. You can’t even meet his eyes, but you can feel the painfully intense stare that doesn’t move from you again as you put on your best smile.

“There- should be, yes. Hmm, let’s see. Do you have a preferred girl you’d like to see here today?” Your hand only stops shaking when you press the tip of the pen to paper, if only to give your hand something to do as you quickly flick between the pages of the book.

“Not really.” He runs his hand under his nose, before leaning both forearms onto the desk and invading your space too much. You barely resist the urge to jerk back entirely, and feel the heat travel between you two. See, you were never able to fight curses. But you did always have a good nose, and his presence is like maggots crawling around under your skin. It’s unbearable. Your lids flutter as you stop flicking, and just focus on not throwing up entirely. Every part of him stinks of rot, oozing danger enough to suffocate you.

You simply pick one of the names at random, and start digging through the shelf for the correct key as fast as you can. Your heart hammers in your chest like that of a hummingbird, and is almost loud enough to keep you from hearing him when he speaks again. You can’t quite bear to meet his gaze, but one look up at his mouth reveals a tiny sort of curl to his lips that’s just as upsetting as the stench that swirls around the room. Everything feels wrong, and you want to stop yourself from hurling your guts out over the table. The man taps his finger on the counter a few times. “Are you new?”

Your head shakes faster than you can think about the answer. It wouldn’t be of any use lying anyway. For some reason, you feel like he’d be able to see right through you. When you finally find the right key, you feel like a weight lifts from your chest, and you slide it across the stone towards him. “I always work the morning shift, I don’t do nights.”

“Hm.” He doesn’t need to say anything else. Only when you slide the paper form across the table too,  do you notice the call has disconnected - you’re not sure for how long - and you manage to force your eyes up to face him for just long enough not to seem impolite. But your blood still feels uncomfortable and itchy, even when he slowly picks up the pen and starts writing his name down at the top of the form. After a few seconds, he clicks the pen to his chin, and looks down at you with a coy smile as he straightens up. “Actually, what about you? You’re a skittish, little thing, and I have a bit of a hunger for something light and fresh today— I had the longest night ever.”

His scar pulls when the smile gets a bit more predatory, and you feel pinned in place like an insect under a magnifying glass when he aims the pen at you. “Looks like you’re a good listener, sweet girl.”

“I- I-” you start, stepping back until your back hits the wall and even then, there’s not nearly enough space between you and him, “I just work as a receptionist. I don’t do-” You might puke after all. Those eyes only seem to get wider when your bottom lip wobbles, and you feel the sick sense of glee he gets rather than see it. You don’t think -no, you know- you couldn’t take him in a fight, but still your fists ball up tight.

The lift dings though, to your relief, and a familiar face rushes out to give you an up and down. Your cousin’s got a bed head, deep grooves under his eyes as he jogs up beside you. “What the hell, you’re fine! When you didn’t respond on the phone I thought something might’ve happened to you.” You can’t say anything back, but you’re so glad to see him your mouth drops open and a little whimper comes out of your throat despite yourself. The young man frowns, before glancing to his side and - pauses. You can’t exactly place the expression he gets, but he must feel what you’re still feeling laced in the air, because he blinks a few times before taking a step back. “What’s this?”

“I was just telling him I’m- o-only a front desk worker,” you start, shuffling uncomfortably when those steely eyes find your body, giving you an awfully unsubtle once over. Pig. He doesn’t even bother to hide the way he’s undressing you with his eyes. Your cousin thankfully hums in agreement, and crosses his arms over his chest. “So-”

The brazen noiret doesn’t hesitate to nod though. And the confident tone from earlier doesn’t waver a bit. It’s like he’s barely inconvenienced by your statement at all. Like you’re playing hard to get. You’re not. "That's fine by me. But I’m going to be the exception.” Under his sloppy clothing, there’s no doubt he’s fit. He’s tall, and obviously wired with thick muscle that makes his shirt cling to his biceps, even more when he crosses over the furniture to reach a hand out to you, and make your shivers so much worse. “Come, little deer. I’m gonna have some fun with you.”

Your cousin places a hand on the other man’s shoulder though. “She’s not that kind of employee, sir. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, or else-”

“Or else what?” You swear you can feel a pin drop when his eyes finally move away from you, now at the other man. Your heart still beats wildly. “How about this, huh. You let me play with your little friend here, and I’ll decide not to kill you, her and then everyone in here for making my long night even longer.” He doesn’t even have to straighten up for you to feel like he means it. Even without flashing a weapon, or pulling out some fancy cursed technique, do you feel the increase in thick waves of tension; drowning you in that same, rotting stench of incoming disaster. You can’t ignore it, can’t do anything but gasp shallow, little breaths when he does round on your family, squaring up to him.

Though they’re both about as tall, the stranger’s built like a brick wall. He must know that, because he laughs. “I’ll be very nice to her, don’t worry.” His eyes tell everyone daring to take a peek that he doesn’t mean it, but at least you don’t flinch when he looks at you this time. Ah, that’s right. You really do hate sorcerers. The black haired man walks past to come grab your arm, and tosses the key you provided him earlier high into the air before catching it. It instantly is too tight, and hurts. You plant your heels into the floor, hang back with your whole body. You want to scream. Your other hand claws at his strong palm -wrung like a vice around your wrist- and you start to whimper.

“N-wait, let me go. I don’t work here like that, I- leave me alone, let me go!” You get pulled along anyway, like you’re a toddler throwing a tantrum; he yanks you with barely any effort and sends you stumbling behind him. “No, I don’t want- aniki! Aniki, tell him- I’m not- I’m not for sale.” Hair whips around as you try to plead with the man left standing in the lobby, but though he looks guilt-stricken and apologetic, he doesn’t move from his spot. You don’t have a say in the way the man dressed in all black drags you behind, even when you try to make yourself dead weight and stop him. “No, no, no, wait, please! Kou aniki! Kou~ help me!”

You get it.

“Let me go! Let me go, pl-please! Hck.” Your voice breaks when wetness spills down to your hot cheeks. Really, you do get it. But the lamb still spooks when presented with the gun, even if it doesn’t run.

You’re sat on the edge of the bed as tears run down your cheeks and drip off your nose.

You can’t imagine it makes for a very appealing sight, but whether it’s indifference or sexual gratification, it’s clear your grief doesn’t matter to him. Toji, he said his name is, but you only know that ‘so you can cry it later’. It makes you sick - the sight of him makes you want to dig your nails into your own palms until you bleed. This is how it is for the weak everywhere, right? Sit and wait to die. As the cold embraces your body again, you sniffle, but wipe the tears away. You’re not a fan of waiting.

If he’s going to do it, better do it quick. Before you decide to start biting anyway. The dim lighting of the reddish room doesn’t do anything to warm the mood except make you even more aware of him as he kicks off sandals, slowly, demanding attention. He stares you down like a predator keeps an eye on his prey. The scent is still suffocating, but there’s a more alarming feeling blanketing your senses now. You’re scared. There’s nothing you can do about it, it’s in the goosebumps on your skin as he walks closer, and you scoot back onto the soft mattress to avert your eyes to yourself.

You’d rather go out kicking and screaming- but with your fear ran so high, you settle for the second best thing. “So, you’re not going to kill everyone, but just me, huh?” He’s taking off his belt as you ball your hands in the fabric, and force yourself to watch him under heavy lashes, with as much hatred as you can. “You like that? Scaring girls half your size?” You’re not sure either why you’re running your mouth. It must be the high of incoming death. “Does that make you feel powerful?” He doesn’t even pause, and pulls his shirt over his head to drop it aside too, then licks his lips.

After a slight moment of silence, he just shrugs. “Yeah. It does.” You scramble back until you reach the head of the bed, and pull your knees to your body. And the man crawls closer anyway, reaching to grab one of your ankles and drag you back. You don’t know why you’re struggling. It’d be easier if you laid down and died. As if reading your mind, he chuckles as he yanks you down until you’re spread out on your back, and pins you in place beneath his heavy body. “Don’t be so frightened. I’m not actually going to kill you.” He pushes over you, and makes sure you’re nose to nose when he talks next, basically drooling as you try to escape from him. “Just going to hurt you pretty bad. Don’t you like that?”

You struggle against him, but it’s not enough. He ties your hands to the bed painfully tight, letting the frayed edge of the rope burn into your skin each time you move- and proceeds to cut your clothes off with the knife that was hidden in his waistband. The torturous pace at which he does everything is almost worse, setting your entire body on end with anticipation. You thrash against him as he places a thigh either side of your body, and grabs your face in a large, rough hand. Once again you feel reminded that you’re really nothing in the face of someone more powerful. It’s frustrating. It’s annoying, and hurtful, and a migraine starts gnawing at your head as you glare up at him. And he almost pouts at you in mockery. “It’s cute that you’re trying so hard. You can cry, you know?” He leans in to lick along the shell of your ear down to your neck. “It’s going to happen sooner or later anyway. Why deny yourself?”

The hot touch of his tongue sears into your skin like it’s poison. You try to pull your wrists loose again, to no avail. The skin just feels achy and burning. “That’s really what you want to do, right? Cry for mommy and daddy to save you?” When he pushes back up to your mouth, laying his filthy lips on you again, you’re quicker than you think - and actually manage to bite him. It’s not enough to cause much damage before he jerks back, clenching one hand over your mouth to shut you up. But he runs a thumb along his bottom lip, and slowly starts grinning. Blood glitters on that finger before he licks it away, and raises his dark eyebrows at you. “Aren’t you brave…”

Before you have time to prepare yourself, that heavy palm meets your cheek, stinging it all over and rushing blood to the surface — it’s hard enough to pull real tears out of you, and your nose to start running as you bury your face into your arm. The sting spreads under the surface like fire. The low chuckle he lets out is mean and predatory, definitely when he takes that as an opening to start groping you through your bra, and soon that’s shoved up too to let him pet all over you. “Good. I don’t have to feel bad about all this, then.”

“Mh- hck-,” you whimper, trying to ignore the painful tugs he gives your nipples, pinching you. It still sends heat to your belly, and somehow that’s the most embarrassing thing of all. You hate him. More than anyone. “I-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. I won’t believe you anyway.” He quickly whispers back, leaning in to force his mouth to yours and kiss you, tongue pushing against your teeth until you give in. He tastes like blood. His own, from the cut that’s not yet closed up; and he kisses like he’s trying to consume you. Rough hands knead and toy with your tits until you start squirming, before they glide down and make enough space to peel your panties down your thighs torturously slow. “Ahh, you look good like this. So pretty. Stay there.” He chuckles to himself as he gets up and you whine, not for him, but more his dragging it out. It’s not like you have a choice about staying…

When he comes back to you, something cold makes you jerk your eyes open. It’s something long and capped metal at the end, not sharp enough to stab you clean through— but it’s still hard and sharp and anxiety has you freezing below him. “Wh- what, what are you-” Would anyone even come help if you screamed? 

Toji slaps the thing into his palm a few times, before those mean eyes glide over you, and you find yourself crossing your legs tight to protect your most sensitive areas instinctively. The sound of the metal whipping through the air is more than enough to put fear into you. Your lip trembles when he gets back onto the bed, and mirth plays in his eyes. “This is going to hurt.” Then he whips his hand down and instantly, your eyes shoot open with pain. Blood splatters as he cuts you open, each impact leaving a cut and nasty thumping that will make a bruise, telltale sign of a cursed tool.

“Ack- no, no- please stop! Stop, stop, please! Please, it hurts! It hurts!” Your eyes clench shut, but tears well up and come out anyway, making tracks down your cheeks. It stings so bad, and after even just a few lashings, you can’t stand it. Everything’s glowing and burning, hot all over as your knees knock together. Another whip has you trying to pull your arms out harder, to no avail. You don’t want to look, but the pain in your hands tells you that the heat running down your arm must be blood. Didn’t he say he wasn’t going to kill you? “Please, please, Toji. I’ll do anything! Anything, please- j-just no more.”

“I refuse.”

“Please~” you sob, only opening your eyes to see how he stands bent over you with his tongue caught between his teeth, head tilted in curiosity like a dog. The whip is dripping red, hot blood down onto his hands, and though it seems impossible to have so much blood coating everything- it’s yours, right? He stays quiet for a moment or two, and the thick tears wobble over your vision. “Please, I don’t want to die. Please. Please. I’m -” your throat closes up when he leans his heavy weight down over you and hovers his lips over your mouth, “I’m beg-begging you.” One hand comes up to grab your face, and he buries his nose into your throat, where a wet tongue starts swiping along your skin.

The soft groan he lets out is foul, coming back up with his mouth full of your blood, and he grins. “Keep going. Beg like a good girl~” Then he dips down, forcing his tongue and the coppery, familiar taste into your mouth, melting his lips to yours as he hums. His strong chest meets your naked, pitiful form as one hand comes down to yank your leg up around him, and the kissing gets more distracting, warmer, deeper — you want him to stay just like this. “Keep talking,” he whispers again, lower this time, and when you’re opening your eyes his stained hands are back to kneading your tits. “You’re sort of cute covered like this, whining like a baby. C’mon.”

Red’s covering everything. Every cut on your body is searing and tight and painful, and he’s pushing his thumbs along the closing wounds as if he’s trying to leak every last drop out of you; but you can’t really feel it. It must be adrenaline you feel coursing through your veins like a drug, goading your heart into pumping so hard you can see it bounce through the skin. “Pl-please.” Your chest rattles, as he watches you. As he degrades you, lifting both your legs up to your chest to spread you for him. “Please, Toji. Please f-fuck me instead. I w- need you to.” He takes the knife used to cut off your clothes, and ever so slowly drags it along the supple inside of your thighs.

And though you jerk, and your jaw clenches while tears fall, you can’t help it. You’re shaking your head, but your pussy clenches around nothing. “Please, please, need you. I’m sorry, I want- I want it. I wan’it… daddy.” Despite the short inhale he takes, sharp eyes pinning you beneath him like the crying mess you are, it’s not his reaction that has you blushing, heat filling your entire face with that cottony feeling. You’re so fucking weak. It’s pathetic.

“Hah,” he snorts when watching you wiggle and cry, presenting your wet, little hole to him, “whiny brat.” His hand lands onto your pussy and it makes you jerk again, squirming against his strong grip, before he turns his palm to grind into your clit and his fingers teasing into the soft folds. The wet squelching doesn’t stop the stinging tingling down your entire body, but - it’s also so unfair. You can feel yourself drip as his thick fingers slide in and out of you again and again, pushing into your plush walls just right. “Call out for daddy, go on.” You don’t want to know how much of it is blood, or how much is your own body betraying you.

You don’t see when he takes off his boxers, now finally as naked as you are - but you do see it when he starts rubbing the head of his heavy cock over your slicked up slit, catching your clit every once in a while. He cocks one brow at you at your silence, and softly hums a deep, raspy breath. You really are weak. “Daddy, daddy, please- pl-hck- please put it in, I’m losing my mind.”

“Seems like it,” he mumbles back, a cocky grin reappearing right before he grabs himself by the base and leads his fat cock inside you with no further warning. He’s too big as soon as he shoves himself inside halfway, grabbing your hair as you wiggle against him. The other half is forced deeper as his cock bumps your walls, makes your pussy drool and clench, and your mouth hangs open as you try to keep from screaming. Your back lifts off the bed a few times, legs opening wider to make room for his thick thighs as he bottoms out and stretches you too thin. “That’s a nice noise.” He’s laughing.

You can’t relate. Your entire body feels wound too tight, legs locking around his glutes in the naïve hope for some reprieve— before he pulls back and holds himself above you. Scared pecs and arms flex when he pulls all the way out, only to thrust back in too deep and have you choking on it. It’s hitting so deep it leaves you speechless. “Make it again,” he gloats as he chuckles into your face, before kissing you again, and this time he bites your lip, hard enough to taste copper. Oh, fuck. You cling onto the ropes for dear life with your numb fingers, and try to wrap your legs back around him with a choked whimper; but you can’t.

You’re shaking, and your pussy’s clenching and sucking around him hard each time his hips meet yours and heavy balls smack against your ass. You feel like he’s going to fuck you through the wall. Drool’s mixed with the blood you swallow, letting his tongue melt to yours, and make you even more needy for air. Each pump inside you gushes more slick out of your cunt, lewd noises and ‘pap’s filling the room along with his grunts. And you only pull away to gasp, and get pulled down onto him again and again. “Daddy, daddy, I’m- gonna- cum.”

And he plants a hand on your throat to squeeze until your eyes cross, free hand going to hold your shivering thighs in place as he buries his cock deep into your plush walls. “Dumb, dumb girl- I don’t need- ugh- you to tell me that.” You’re folded double entirely as he keeps the rhythm entirely ruthless, and your belly starts tightening under your body jerks shut around him, crying out. You can’t even feel your hands anymore, and your breathing’s so shallow and confused you’re lightheaded. Your toes curl so hard you feel like you’ll pass out, but Toji doesn’t stop. Not even when hot ropes of cum fill the heat of your spasming pussy up and spill out— he doesn’t even slow.

you had known yeonjun the time you befriended his sister, finding him to be cold, brooding and the whole package of 'dark grunge emo boy' ever since the second year of high school. he also never greeted you properly whenever you came to have a sleepover or a study session with his sister—only giving you a side glance, eye roll and then left the living room for the two of you once he slammed his door closed.

it had been a while and he gradually warmed up to you, giving you a curt nod as a greeting or buying you and his sister some snacks whenever he left the house to the nearest store. "here," he dropped a bag of snacks and drinks you requested, holding out his hand—telling both of you the exact number you had to pay before leaving with a small hum, lighting up his cigarette and leaving the house again to meet his friends.

"so, how's study?" was the most dreading question one could ask to a struggling student.

"it was fine," you replied with a smile, trying to conceal your pain over the fact that you had to take some classes before the next semester. feeling something on your thigh, you looked down and found yeonjun's hand resting on top of it comfortably—playing, tracing and drawing random shapes over your bare skin, giving you slight goosebumps and burning sensation once he stopped right on the end of your skirt.

his hand slipped underneath, running his index finger over your clad slit and giving a slight pressure over your sensitive nub—ignoring your stare while finishing down his dinner before pushing your panties aside, shoving two fingers inside you. it wasn't much but enough to make you full and squirming on the seat.

it was always the same once the two of you found interest in each other two summers ago, stealing some time to have a quickie or quick make out when there was none to catch you—enjoying the thrill of getting caught by your friends, his friends and his sister.

"jun, we cannot," you breathed out, watching his lips leaving marks all over your neck and collarbones while ignoring your plead to stop—left hand gripping the backside of your thigh, wrapping it around his waist while the other pushing your waist against the wall.

leaving your skin with a sloppy 'pop', yeonjun looked down to see your eyes and placed his fingers under your chin, eyes looking dangerous as always. "say it again," he licked his bottom lip, following your gaze as it shifted away from his face and starting to unbutton your pajama shirt, feeling your waist under his palm, "i take that as a 'we can' then," he rasped before pushing you down to his bed.

taking off his shirt, he ran his fingers along your bare skin and pressed kisses between your chest. "does my sister know you're here? on my bed? fucking her brother?" he gave your left breast a squeeze, rolling the nipple between his fingers before giving your right one a light suck, tongue flicking over the sensitive nub and leaving it alone with a gentle bite.

cocking his head to the side, his smirk got wider and started to coo at your vulnerable state. "what a whore. sleeping with your friend's brother behind her back," he spread your legs, massaging your thighs slowly while watching you dripping down to his sheet—still wet from the dinner.

smearing lube all over his length, he ripped open a packet and rolled the condom over it before pressing the head against your entrance, making sure you were ready to take him slowly. "fuck, whore like you are nothing but a hole for me to fuck, huh?" he gasped, watching you swallowed him with ease while keeping the noise down, avoiding any suspicion from his sister.

circling his thumb around your clit, you let out a mewl and dug your nails into his back, looking at him with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks. "jun, please, i'm close," you begged, feeling all familiar coil inside your stomach that always ready to burst out whenever yeonjun was around you—whether it was an arm length or deep inside you, yeonjun always knew your body well and how to make it cum without any effort.

you’re sprawled out in bed— body limp with sleep and vulnerable, oh how delicate you look and every animalistic instinct in tighnari is on fire. his body threatens to burn him to ash, his bones the pyre, if he doesn’t touch, kiss, ravish the meal, the prey laid out before him.

his weight joins yours on the bed, slowly, and you stir in a way that makes his heart beat impossibly faster— he swears it will make him deaf.

with what little restraint he’s maintained he’s gentle— gloved fingers ghosting up your bare thigh, it’s soft and he begs to the archons that it will smell of him, that he will mark you with every fiber of his being and it will never wash away.

he lingers a moment when you huff in your sleep, perhaps this was ticklish or perhaps the fresh scent of the rainforest wafting off him felt foreign to you even in your sleep.

but you only seem to shiver, body twisting into the thin sheets until they’ve tangled— and tighnari seems to forget how to breath or at least wishes he did.

you’re completely bare— the summer heat of sumeru too much, and it shows in the sweat glistening on your skin that sends a tingle up his spine until his ears are twitching in excitement.

and it sparks into a firestorm when his eyes catch on the pretty thing nestled between your thighs— you’re slick with arousal and he begins to wonder if he hadn’t hallucinated the dizzying sound of his name mumbling past your parted lips.

his head is heated and blank and all he can think about is claiming you, marking you. it’s almost nauseating how desperate he is, his arousal beginning to leak through the thin fabric of his pants— the stain wouldn’t matter in the morning, not when he’s begun to grind into you.

he devours every little moan that escapes you— takes note of the way you squirm and writhe when he rolls his hips a bit too roughly against your clit, his senses are drowning him in every inch of you.

he didn’t know whether to curse or praise the archons for his sensitivities— your scent alone could have him coming undone, and the haunting sound of your voice would be something he dreamt of for the rest of his life.

he wanted more, needed to be inside of you— to feel the way you’d stretch around him, spongy velvet walls hot and desperate to milk him, to let him breed you until you were so full you couldn’t move.

but he promised himself that would be for when you were awake, when he could see the way your eyes would roll back in pleasure and how you’d cling to him trembling and moaning and—

“you went out with waka again?” his tone sounds indifferent, like he’s not interested in a conversation that he started. but deep down, you know better. you know shinichiro better than anyone else.

there was a reason why you always kept secrets from shin-nii. it wasn’t because you couldn’t trust him. it was solely because you were afraid of how he would react. he never shouts or screams. instead, he’d act cold towards you, giving you the silent treatment and pretend like you’re not his dearest little sister. he knows how much it hurts you, especially when all you want to do is just cling on to him.

he’s convinced that you don’t know how much he loves you. when it comes to you, he’d protect you with his entire life, even if it means keeping you away from everyone else just so he can have you all to himself. there was no reason for you to hang around with anyone else. all you need is him.

“i’m sorry shin-nii! i wanted to hang out with you but you were in the shop so i didn’t want to disturb you.” a pout forms on your lips, hoping that your older brother would face you and forgive you for choosing someone else over him.

he doesn’t. he doesn’t turn to look at you. he still has his back turned towards you as he continues to repair the broken motorcycle in front of him. he wants to forgive you, to watch you fall apart on his cock like you always do.

but he’s had enough of you taking advantage of his kindness. you need to learn a lesson.

“c’mon nii-chan. i said i’m sorry!” he’s still giving you the cold shoulder, refusing to acknowledge the fact that you’re on the edge of throwing a temper tantrum.

“nii-chan, you can’t keep ignoring me!” the sound of feet pattering towards him makes him satisfied, knowing very well that your little punishment is going the way he intended to. he chooses to play it off, pretending that he’s too focused on the object in front of him.

there’s a little huff that escapes your lips the moment you place yourself before him, lowering yourself onto his lap just so you can get the tiniest bit of attention. he finds you adorable during moments like this, all needy and pouty, just begging for his love and affection.

you think you’re in his good graces when he looks up at you. but you’re wrong. his calloused hand tugs on your hair, causing you to wince in pain from how rough he is.

“dumb little sisters like you should just stay at home with their big brothers. don’t want people thinking you’re a whore now do you?” his words hurt, more than you could ever imagine.

it’s like a stab to the heart, knowing very well how you never had the intention to make him feel so disappointed in you. if anything, you want him to feel proud of you. you want his validation more than anyone else’s.

“you love your nii-chan, don’t you?” nodding your head meekly, you notice a smile forming on his lips, hinting that he already has something planned. good or bad, it doesn’t matter. as long as your nii-chan is satisfied, you don’t care about anything else.

instead of waiting for him to make a move, you begin grinding against the bulge of his pants, internally wishing that it was his cock that you were grinding on. but beggars can’t be choosers, and you’re grateful that shin-nii has given you a second chance.

it feels weird rubbing yourself onto his pants. it’s coarse and scratchy, and the fact that you’re wearing a mini skirt doesn’t help either. the burn marks of his name on your thigh still linger, and the pain of it reminds you that you belong to shinichiro, and shinichiro only.

it was a month ago when he caught you in takeomi’s arm, all flustered and giggling without a care in the world. if it were any other person, he couldn’t be bothered. but it’s you. his pride and joy. he doesn’t understand why you need someone else when he’s been there all this while.

the next moment, you’re ripped away from takeomi, lithe fingers wrapped around your wrist as he pulls you along with him into the garage. you still remember it like it was yesterday, the burn of the red hot cigarette butt pressing onto your skin as he marks you as his property.

“you’re my pretty slut, yeah? no one else can have you.” he breaks you out of your trance as you mindlessly ride him, not noticing that his face is buried in your neck while his lips are busy sucking on your skin.

his cock is hard, bulging against the confines of his pants. it pokes you whenever you drag your pulsating clit onto the rough texture of his pants. you’re tempted to help him out. you want to unbuckle his pants and have his cock buried deep inside you, yet the idea of disappointing him once more discourages you from doing so.

“i can feel your cunt throbbing. you wanna cum that badly?” it’s a silent answer, but the way your face scrunches in frustration gives him all the answers he needs. his hands find their way underneath your skirt, pushing your pretty panties to the side as he plays with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“nii-chan! wanna cum for you! please please please!” your body seizes up as you cum all over his pants, eyes rolling to the back of your head from how intense it feels. your hands are clawed into his back, clinging onto him like you’re never letting go no matter what he does to you.

“that’s it. that’s my good girl. there she is.” you’re embarrassed at how desperate you were for his attention, but nii-chan reassures you that he’s proud of you. his gentle fingers stroke your hair, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

you don’t know it yet, but he’s got you hook, line and sinker. he knows you can’t live without him, and that’s the way it should be.

In the dark of your room, or prison as you call it, you lay on the bed. Your body is sore, your throat hurts for how much you screamed a few hours prior, you couldn’t feel anything other than soreness and fatigue.

How many hours passed? Sincerely you don’t care anymore. Even if you try to guess the hour, nothing could change. you would still be there, in that damned room, alone and tired.

On your cheeks there are still traces of your tears, now dried and a symbol of your despair.

You look at the wall trying to receive some kind of comfort but in vain.

Closing your eyes, your mind makes you recall all the happy memories you experienced in all your life before them…

They took everything from you: your freedom, your autonomy, your dignity, your dreams and your hope.

Now you can only feel despair and nothing else. Still lost in your thoughts, you don’t hear the door opening and various footspes reaching the bed.

“Waka maybe it's best, if we don’t bother her. Her body hasn’t recovered yet.” protests Keizo worried about you.

“Oh, like I care about what she likes or not.” Wakasa remarks codly.

Shinichiro sits next to you on the bed, caressing your head, kissing gently your stained cheeks.

“Princess are you awake? Do you need something?” Shinichiro asks, shaking you a little.

“Oi (y/n) you ungrateful brat, you better respond if you don’t want to get hurt once again.” Takeomi interferes, threatening you.

Optining for not making them angry, you open your eyes and with the help of, oh-so-kind Shinichiro, you sit up.

“I’m awake, Omi-kun.” you quietly respond. You try your best to not cringe after calling him like that.

You loathe calling them by their nicknames, acting like you are in some kind of relationship.

One time you had the brilliant idea to lash out on them, saying that you five didn’t have and never will have a relationship. You screamed that you despise all of them and they will never be your lovers but only captors.

Bad idea

Takeomi and Wakasa didn’t take your little outburst really well, and that same night, they punished you badly. Really bad.

Keizo and Shinichiro stayed on the sidelines, they thought you acted like a fucking brat. They don’t understand what you want, you can have everything you want. Just a word and the entire world will be at your feet.

Maybe you just need more time, so you can fall in love with them and then you five will be happy forever.

Your body still has the bruises of that dreadful night.

“Me and Benkei cooked your favorite dish, aren’t you hungry princess?” Shinichiro questions smiling.

You nod quietly, while Benkei covers your body with his gang jacket.

“Now let’s eat before it becomes cold.” he smiles before leading to the dining room.

Takeomi and Wakasa watch every movement ready to attack at your first error. Like predators ready to pounce on their prey.

You gulp, feeling their harsh gazes on your back, and stay as near as possible to the other two.

You ate as quickly as possible, so you could be alone in your room, without feeling their eyes on your body. It disgusted you so much, you felt dirty and violated in your intimacy.

Today luckily you can sleep alone, because they have to do something with the gang. Not that you care but that means you can be free for a few hours.

As soon as they got out of the house, not after reminding you what will happen if you even dare to think of escaping, you bolted in your room.

Collapsing on the bed you begin to cry and let out all your emotions. You can’t do this anymore, you can’t live like this. Waking up every morning with the fear of upsetting them at every chance, it’s tiring and you are tired of fighting against them.

You are all alone in this world, your parents are probably dead, your friends either dead or missing or abandoned you.

You sit up on the bed and make contact with the mirror near your bed.

You…

You’re the former shell of your old self, you’re a mess both physically and mentally.

Your dull (e/c) look at your injured body. Cigarette burns, scars, purple bruises, hickies, bites decorate your body alongside your new "present" from your so-called "boyfriends".

They tattoed their fucking names and their fucking gang’s logo on your body.

Between your breasts there’s Shinichiro’s name. He chose that place because “it’s my favorite place in the whole world”. He loves marking your chest with hickeys and now that there’s his name, he feels even more proud of his mark on your body.

Wakasa’s name is on your tummy right above your pussy, a reminder as Wakasa says “whose pussy is this”.

Takeomi loves seeing his little property uncomfortable, so he tattooed personally his name on your inner thigh, also a reminder of who fucks that sluttish cunt.

Keizo, oh sweet Keizo, he chose your hip so you could feel less hurted. He loves having his big hands on your smaller body and his name written on your hip is perfect.

If you close your eyes, you can still hear your screams when Keizo had to physically restrain you, while Shinichiro tried his best to calm you down. Takeomi and Wakasa prepared everything, and the bastards took great time listening to your screams and pleas to let you go.

If it wasn’t enough, they also inked their fucking gang’s logo on your back.

You are marked entirely as theirs and you can just despair.

Sobbing you plop down once again on your bed. Exhausted you fall asleep, hoping that when you will wake up you would be anywhere else but not there with them.

“I’m surprised you’re alive right now, considering you wandered into my domain,” the voice can be heard from behind you. It sounds rough, and the intonation makes it sound like you’re being mocked. “Ah, you’re one of those jujutsu sorcerers. No normal human would’ve survived this long.”

You quickly turn around and your surroundings come to life. No longer engulfed by darkness, the sky appears to be cloudy and red. There’s a shrine right in front of you, decorated with shrines and… mouths? No. It can’t be.

The realization hits that you’ve come across the one and only King of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna. But that’s not the worst part; to add on to it all, he’s in his true form, sporting four arms and two faces. The black marks on his face, chest, and arms do nothing to lessen your fears. It’s absolutely terrifying, the sight alone is a fright more than you bargained for on Halloween. He sits atop a pile of bones, like they’re just some kind of trophy to him. Where the hell is Yuji?

You might as well just dig your own grave at this point; you know that there’s no way you can defeat him on your own. Four years of training at Jujutsu Tech prepared you to fight all sorts of cursed spirits, but the king himself? Just forget it. Nothing you’ve learned would be enough. Even from this distance, you can see his red eyes which appear to be glowing.

“Please let me go,” your voice shakes as you speak. It’s pathetic, you know, but there’s not much else you can do. In the blink of an eye, he disappears from his position at the temple. You feel relief that only lasts for a second when his voice sounds from right behind you. 

“What’s with this getup?” He asks while plucking your headband out of your hair. It’s red as well, and there’s a big bow; Nobara wanted everyone to dress up as a Studio Ghibli character, so you settled with Kiki. He tosses it to the side before bringing a hand up to wrap around your throat. You instinctively grab at his hand to try and pull it off, but he’s strong. Too strong, almost. “I’ll let you go.”

His grip on your throat loosens, and you deeply inhale in relief. It sounds too good to be true. Is he really letting you go that easily? 

“On one condition,” he finishes. Of course. He pulls you closer so that your back is flush against his bare chest, and he leans down so that his mouth is right by your ear. “Appease me. Disobey, and I have no choice but to kill you.” 

He lets you go, and you instantly drop to your knees. Just from him holding you close, you feel powerless. What does he mean by “appease me?” Maybe he wants you to kill Megumi or Gojo, but how would you do that right here, right now? How would you even do that in general? It’s literally impossible. Sukuna must be out of his mind or something. In the few moments that you spent looking at your shaking hands against the ground, he took the time to return to his stance at the temple. 

“You going to comply or what?” a bored expression crosses his face, emphasized by the one of his four hands supporting his chin. His hair looks fiery, perhaps from the sky above, and the black marks on his skin.

The lump in your throat is hard to swallow, but you approach him nonetheless. With each step you take, the heavy, dreadful feeling in your bones gets heavier. As you approach the shrine, Sukuna keeps his gaze locked on to you until you’re climbing up the steps to be face to face with him.

You can’t look him in the eyes, afraid that just one glance would kill you. And you’re sure you’re just about dead when you’re harshly pushed to the floor, scraping your exposed knees in the process.

“Don’t you know who you’re with? Show some fucking respect,” he spits. “Just do as I say, and I won’t hurt you.”

It’s a little too late for that, you think. The stinging sensation from your knees lessens as the adrenaline kicks in. Him looking down at you makes you feel so inferior to him; it’s like he’s a lion preying upon a gazelle.

“Bow down to me,” he states. There’s venom in his words and it’s almost paralyzing, but you find yourself fixing your position on the ground in front of him. With your ass resting on the heels of your feet and your balled up hands on your thighs, you lower the top portion of your body close to the floor. But apparently it’s not enough for Sukuna because next thing you know, he lifts one of his feet up and presses it to your back. To stop your face from hitting the floor, you put your hands out right in front of you.

“That’s more like it,” he mutters under his breath. You don’t dare to look up at him when you hear him unfastening the belt around his baggy pants, nor when the fabric pools around his ankles. This can’t be happening.

“Hey,” his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and a chill is sent down your spine when one of his large hands finds the back of your neck. His sharp, claw-like nails dig into your skin, threatening to puncture you. “You want to get out of here alive, don’t you?” 

“Yes, sir.”

He smiles at your formality. “Then sit up, and suck me off like you mean it.”

The hand on your neck brings you face to face with his dick and fuck, there’s no way that’s going to fit in your mouth. At first glance, it’s noticeable that Sukuna has a well-built body, and the same can be said for his dick. It’s long with a nice girth; your hand struggles to completely wrap around it. A bead of precum leaks from his slit, so you lick it up before slowly moving your hand up and down his length. Behind it, right on his stomach, is a massive mouth with the tip of its tongue sticking out the corner. You try your best to open your mouth as wide as you can to fit him inside, but it’s not enough for him. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never sucked a cock before,” he says condescendingly. Tears form in your eyes as you attempt to take more of him and because you really don’t want to disappoint him when your life is at stake. “Open your fucking mouth.”

He smirks to himself as he pushes your head further down his length, causing the tears to stream down your face. Your nose brushes up against the patch of hair at his base, and you can feel his balls on your chin. It hurts having him all the way down your throat, and it’s hard to breathe. You find yourself hitting his thigh to tell him to stop, but it’s just so amusing to him. He keeps you in that position for just a second longer before pulling you off of him. You immediately start coughing and gasping for air, desperate to get oxygen into your lungs while also wiping the spit around your mouth with the back of your hand.

“I can’t have you passing out on me. That would be no fun,” he chuckles.

“P-please. Just let me go,” you beg in a feeble attempt to escape.

“Already?” He ruffles his hair. “I haven’t been satisfied yet. We’re just getting started.”

A choked sob leaves your lips as he brings you closer to his dick once again. He’s just as ruthless as the last time, forcing your lips open with the fat tip and sinking himself deep into your throat. Your hands stay on his thighs for some leverage as he continues to fuck your throat. 

“What are you crying for?” He asks when looks down to see your tears falling down your face, mixing with the spit on your chin. “You want me to praise you?”

You can’t do anything but let out a garbled plea to stop. He finally lets up, slowing down his pace and releasing his hand from your head. When you look at him, you notice that he keeps his chin high to avoid looking directly down at you. With a pat to your cheek, he wordlessly urges you to continue getting him off. You feel some relief now that you’re able to move at your own pace.

Wasting no time, you go right to work taking as much of his dick as you can without gagging, while your hands work with what doesn’t fit in your mouth. He lets out an occasional grunt, not wanting to give you any satisfaction for your work. 

“Perfect little mouth,” he mumbles as you begin to massage his balls. They’re warm, and they feel heavy in your palm. Your spit runs down his entire length, coating your hands in it as you continue to pleasure him. His thighs and abs start to clench, a sign that he’s nearing his release. “Fuck, that’s it. Stand up.”

Before you have a chance to react, you’re being pulled up and off of the floor. Sukuna carries you over to a broken pedestal that looks grimy and like it’s on the verge of collapsing. The cold concrete makes you shiver when he lays you down on it.

“It was only a matter of time until it came down to this. Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” you try to convince him, but the waver in your voice says otherwise.

Sukuna smirks at your response, obviously not believing you. “What if I just started fucking you right now? Would you be scared then?”

Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel two of his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the fabric of your dress higher and higher until it bunches around your waist. His sharp nails occasionally poke your skin, making you jump at each quick jab. It feels like there’s a slight breeze when your cotton panties are finally exposed to him; you wish you could just shrink into the pedestal and disappear forever. 

Sukuna runs a finger over your clothed cunt, catching the waistband of it with his nail before letting it snap back against your skin. “You’re wet already. It seems like you’re actually enjoying this.”

You try to shake your head in protest, but another hand finds its place on its throat. The pressure on the sides of your neck is immense; if he were to squeeze it any tighter, you’re sure you would pass out. Sukuna easily tears your panties off your body, leaving your bottom half completely bare. You can feel your slick rubbing onto your thighs and it’s so embarrassing  how wet you are despite the situation you’re in.

He immediately gets to work on your pussy, toying with your sensitive clit before dragging two fingers up and down your folds. His fingers glisten as they become coated in your arousal, but there’s no time for him to admire it. You suddenly feel his fingers push past your entrance, causing you to yelp out.

“Scream all you want, whore. No one’s coming to save you,” he looks at you with faux sympathy.  The curl of his fingers inside you is almost painful with how sharp his nails are. He won’t say it out loud, but he enjoys the feeling of you on his fingers; you’re already so tight, he wonders if he can actually fit his cock inside you. He thinks he’s being so generous by prepping you first. Seemingly out of nowhere, you feel a new, wet sensation on your pussy.

“O-oh!” You gasp; the hand on your throat makes it difficult to say anything else. You can’t see below you from how your head is pinned down to the pillar, but somehow you know what’s happening. The mouth on his palm had opened up, and it started to lick and suck on your clit while his fingers continued pumping in and out of you. And fuck, Sukuna can feel the way you clench around him. You want to squeeze your legs together, to try and push his hand off of you, but it’s like he can read your mind. With his remaining two arms, he firmly pushes your legs to the sides.

“Keep ‘em open for me, yeah? Do yourself a favor,” the tone of his voice is almost calming. You can’t think clearly anymore; the combination of stimulation on your clit as well as his fingers reaching deep within you is too much. It’s far too much and far too soon, and you feel sweat start to rise on your skin as your stomach clenches. You bite your lip to hold back your moans because you just can’t let Sukuna know how good he’s making you feel. Your fingers try to grasp onto something, anything, and they unwillingly end up on the backs of your thighs, right on top of Sukuna’s hands.

He knows you’re close, but he won’t let you cum just yet. So he rips his fingers from your warmth, making you let out a strangled cry. You’re left a panting mess trying to hold onto him so that you don’t fall off the pillar.

“Look at you,” Sukuna coos while tracing a finger along your jaw. “You were just begging for me to let you go, but now you’re just so desperate to cum. It feels good, doesn’t it?”

All you can do is nod your head as he moves to adjust your position on the pillar. With ease, he flips you over and now the edge of the pillar is digging into your stomach. Your arms are bent so that your hands cushion your face from the cold concrete. 

Sukuna pushes your dress up once again and spreads your ass cheeks to admire how messy your cunt has become. He delivers a harsh slap to your right side, causing you to wince as the edge of the pedestal digs into your skin. He then leans over, and you can feel the throb of his cock against your ass and the tickle of his breath against your ear.

“I’m not going easy on you,” is all he says before he positions himself to align with your hole and pushes in. The stretch of his cock inside you burns; you’ve never felt anything like this before.

“It– It’s too much,” you sputter as he continues pushing himself in. 

“I’ve only got a couple inches in,” Sukuna grunts. “Just take it.”

Although he sheathed himself in you slowly, he wasted no time in building up a fast pace. His thrusts were rough; the sound of his skin against yours began to echo throughout the empty space. You couldn’t stop the whines from spilling through your parted lips, but it was merely just music to his ears. He relished the way your pussy clenched around him, squeezing him the right way in all the right places. It was like you were trying to push him out, but he always liked a little chase.

He likes the way you look when you’re full of his dick; wanton moans slip through your gritted teeth as you try to hold them back, and the look of your glazed eyes turns him on even more. Knowing he has this effect on you has him feeling like he’s on a power trip.

“Sukuna… I can’t take it!” You helplessly cry. Your lashes flutter shut as teardrops continue to fall from your eyes. You feel so full every time he fills you to the hilt. He’s in your stomach; the fat head of his dick is hitting that same spot deep inside you over and over again. There’s a dull ache in your abdomen, most likely a combination of his cock and and the concrete against your skin. You reach a hand out behind you, trying to find his hips in a futile attempt to stop him. When that doesn’t work, you try to rip yourself away from him.

“You’re running from me,” he simply states while pinning your wrists to your lower back, though his hips never stop moving. “Stop running.”

God, you hate the way he sounds right now. With him lost in the feeling of your cunt, his voice has gotten all strained and raspy. It turns you on even more, and it’s clear by the way you feel your arousal mockingly drip down your thighs. Your body’s betraying you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. 

You fall limp against the pedestal, and Sukuna pulls your hips closer to him. He wants, needs, more of you, but he’s already as deep as he can get, rearranging your guts and it feels like he’s molding your pussy to fit him perfectly. The new angle sends a sharp pain to your lower half every time he fucks into you, but it soon subsides. It’s actually amazing how his pace has not faltered even once. 

 “Are you going to stop running from me?” he asks. 

“Yes sir,” you sob after he thrusts particularly deep into you.

“Mhm. Because that’s all bitches like you are good for. Taking orders, listening to—oh fuck—to those who are above you.”

Sukuna is entranced by the way the fat of your ass jiggles with every thrust he delivers. He has half a mind to stick a thumb into your other hole, but he refrains. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you too much. Perhaps he’ll find you like this another time.

Suddenly, you’re lifted off of the pedestal and pushed up against a pillar of the shrine that isn’t broken. Sukuna’s hands are all over you like the air on a windy day; one constricts your throat, another one pulls the collar of your dress down to reveal your breasts, a third holds you by your waist, and the final one lifts your leg up and hooks behind your knee. There’s a crazed look in his wide eyes, and the growing grin on his lips just makes him all the more terrifying. By now, the tears have already stopped, but sobs still wrack your body. When will this be over? 

“I’ve got a hand on your throat but even that won’t shut you up,” Sukuna complains as he starts to cup your tits. “Seriously, you’d be even more attractive if you weren’t yapping this whole time.”

He lets go of your throat and chooses to focus on your chest. Just like with your ass, he finds himself lost in the way your tits bounce up and down with every movement. Everything hurts; your pussy is sore, and your legs have been stretched for far too long. Your back, although covered by the dress, is being dragged up and down the column, roughing up your skin. 

You feel the familiar knot in your stomach once again, and Sukuna can tell that you’re about to cum from the way you clench down on him impossibly tighter. You claw at his chest as the feeling grows, leaving red marks and crescent moons indented on his skin.

“You wanna cum?” Sukuna says in a gruff voice.

“Mhm…” you mumble. You don’t have the energy to say anything else. The only thought on your mind is reaching an orgasm so that he can finish as well and put an end to this nightmare.

“I don’t usually make promises,” he starts. “But if you speak one word of this to anyone, I’ll kill you.”

“I promise, I promise,” you babble.

 Sukuna’s pace starts to falter, and you can’t hold back any longer. Your legs shake as you finally reach your climax, holding onto the man—no, devil—in front of you for dear life. There’s fire in your veins; your body feels hot all over.

He continues rutting into you, grinding his hips against yours to help you come down from the high, while also bringing himself closer to the edge. The overstimulation makes your mind all fuzzy, but you absolutely need to tell him that he has to pull out. You have trouble finding the words to say as his heart beats faster, and his breathing becomes labored. It’s too late, you realize as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He deeply inhales as his whole body shudders, finally releasing his cum deep within your pussy. You can feel it, warm and sticky, as it leaks out of your hole. It almost seems never ending as it starts to run down his length and drip down his balls. 

His chest heaves as he pulls out, but the feeling of his cock is quickly replaced by something else. It’s also quite large, but it’s wet, so you look between your legs and see that the tongue coming from his stomach is licking at your folds. It’s cleaning up the cum that spilled down your thighs. You find yourself squirming around, not sure if it’s because of how weird this is, or if it’s because you’re still sensitive from your orgasm. 

“I’m quite pleased with how tonight turned out,” Sukuna admits.

“That’s enough,” you manage to get out. Sukuna scrunches his face at you, as if you’re the insane one just for ordering him to do something once. His nostrils flare before he lets you go, ultimately making you fall to your knees because of how wobbly your legs are.

“Are you that desperate to have my cock in your mouth again?” Sukuna scoffs. “Get up, and get out of here.”

You’re about to say something in response, but your surroundings change before you can even get a word out. The moon and stars twinkle above you, and the swirly clouds provide an eerie atmosphere ideal for All Hallow’s Eve. Laughter and loud music resonates in the air from the celebrations nearby. Realizing that you’re no longer in Sukuna’s domain, you rush to fix your dress. Your makeup is a whole other problem; there’s not enough light for you to look at yourself on your phone’s camera, but you make do with what you have. While you’re struggling to wipe away your mascara, Nobara’s name appears on your phone.

“Hello, Y/N? Where are you?! We’ve been trying to call you for the past– I don’t even know how long it’s been!” Nobara screeches from the speaker. You hold the phone away from your ear as she continues going off on you.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you rasp, throat still sore from Sukuna’s actions. “Something happened.” “Like what?” Nobara presses on. Sukuna’s voice replays in your head, and you tremble from remembering what you promised him.

“It’s nothing,” you murmur. “Is Itadori with you?”

“Yeah, Fushiguro and I met up with him not too long ago. I wonder what took him so long, too.”

☆ Fucks you standing up, starts with you against the wall but will pull away so he’s the only thing keeping you up fucking you in the full nelson position. Grabs your hips and lifts you up, lets gravity drop you back down on his cock.

Warnings: explicit content, 18+, size kink, strength kink, marking, scratching, links to sex position images, squirting, daddy kink, minor mirror sex, thigh grinding,

☆ When you’re riding him, his feet are planted on the bed and he’s thrusting his hips into yours. Large hands clenched on your hips bouncing you on his dick

☆ Probably no definitely gets a mirror installed on the ceiling so you can see his back muscles whilst he’s fucking you

☆ When you’re bad (or good) he makes/lets you grind on his thigh

☆ Picture it: you straddled on his thigh, knees planted in the sofa cushion on either side of his hips. Short pleated skirt barely grazing the bottom of your ass, you white pants with the pink words ‘daddy’s princess’ soaked through, wet patch forming on his jeans embarrassingly quickly

“That’s a good girl, look at that. Princess made a wet patch on daddy’s trousers”. Getting bored Steve clenches his thighs to increase the friction on your clit. You throw your head back and moan. Wanting to bully you more, the blond bounces his leg just to see the fat tears drip from your waterline. Black trails run down your cheeks but you don't dare stop in your grinding motion. Eventually, Steve takes pity on you and coos that you’re too dumb to get yourself off with his thigh on your own and grabs your hips to control your rhythm. When Steve wants to hear you whine, he pushes down on your hips and grinds you a little harder. To an untrained ear, your hiccupy moans would seem like you're not enjoying the rough handling but the way your juices explode out of you, drenching the material of the chair and dripping down to darken the carpet, the fabric straining to cover Steve's muscular thighs already soaked through, is an indication of how much you enjoy it.

☆ Loves loves loves when you grip his shoulder/biceps to hold on. If you dig your fingernails into the skin oof he will flip you over and make you squirt on his dick

☆ Loves it when you mark him but no visible hickeys- he's still America's golden boy. Adores when you drag your fingernails down his back so the next day can hear all the hushed comments on the 10 red lines running parallel to each other down his back. Steve can’t stop smirking as he changes

☆ Will let out the whiniest fucking keen if you leave a love bite on the ‘v’ of his adonis belt like imagine being on your knees biting his flesh and you look up this sculpted Adonis of a man to see his blue eyes hidden behind his eyelids, head tipped down and plump lips open to let out the such a sexily pitched noise. You gush at the power you suddenly have (always had) over him

☆ Sparring sessions that end with him sweeping your legs out from under you and caging you down on the mat. Hands above your head, one of Steve’s wrapped around both of your wrists. No matter how much you struggle he keeps you pinned down. Animalistic sex partly from the adrenaline coursing through the two of you and also the risk of getting caught

☆ Lingerie is destroyed partly because his hands are so big Steve can’t easily remove the delicate hooks but also because the blond can get too impatient and just rips it off. Whispers into the meat of your thighs/breasts/neck he’ll buy another set. Not as in one set matching bralette and pants but the entire collection and in all the colour options.

☆The lap dance position/full nelson but Steve’s sat down with his forearms hooked around the backs of your knees and spreads your legs. He pushes your knees till touching they’re touching your shoulders and fucks up into you. Probably wraps one hand around your neck. If you’re un/lucky, one hand will slide down and rub figures of 8's onto your clit until you’re too overstimulated to babble anything greater than 3 words. You cannot move in that position at all, it’s Steve letting out all his anger and frustrations on your body

☆ Italian chandelier position but you don’t need to do anything to hold your weight, Steve does it, a hand on the small of your back all he needs to keep your lower body up

Other positions he uses to show his strength to fuck you:

Asian Cow

Apollo

Elephant

Descent

Flying Dutchman

Hood (Steve would spend all night going down on you)

Lace but also standing 69

Prison Guard

“I could watch you beneath me all day.” he breaths, damp white hair hanging in your face before he leans down, sucking marks into your neck. “You just look so divine underneath me. You look almost helpless.” he coos down to you as his thrusts become more harsh. His hips slamming into yours, making sure to bash his cock into your cunt as far as he can to hear your screams. 

He wishes he could watch himself fuck you from someone else’s point of view, oh how he would revel in being able to see how pathetic you look as he fucks his fat cock in your tiny cunt, the way your body rocks back and fourth along the futon from the sheer force of him fucking into you. 

But that’s not what matters right now, as he takes a thick digit to your clit gently rubbing in circular motions, matching the speed of his now slowed thrusts, focusing on knocking the breath out of your lungs as the tip kisses your cervix.

You come undone in no time as soon as you feel the dexterity of his hand on your cunt along with his veiny cock knocking that special spot that resides in your worn out hole. Giving him no warning.

He shows you mercy as he slows down and takes his hand away as you come down.

Before he flips you onto your stomach, from his view now you laying on the futon as he kneels, you look even more helpless beneath him.

“Now” he slams his cock back into you. A large hand wrapping around your naps bringing your head back, spitting right on your face. “I’m gonna use this tight cunt however i want until i cum.”