Archive of Our Own

Your life revolved around curses. From the moment you opened your eyes to the time you crawled into your bed at night - body so wrought with aches you barely had the wherewithal to tug your shoes off - the thought of exorcising was swirling in your brain.

To say that you were exhausted would be an understatement. And with the sheer quantity of new missions you’d been assigned now that you were a fully fledged sorcerer, you barely got a second to breathe let alone take a quiet moment to indulge in any of your hobbies. Indulge in anything, actually.

It almost made you miss your days in school. Not that they had been particularly easy, but there had been something carefree about it. The excitement of learning about an entirely new world, a youthful spryness within you, the sense of belonging you had found - a purpose, a reason for your existence. Maybe it was you that had changed, weighed down with a sobering seriousness, responsibility and duty heavy on your shoulders. Or maybe it was the parasite laying dormant inside of you, leaden in your belly like a smooth stone. It was as if one of those dark hooked nails you had devoured had poked a hole deep inside you, and started seeping poison through the tear.

On top of it all, there had been a recent… hunger within you. Ever since you’d swallowed that first fateful finger you’d felt something crawling inside, squirming beneath your skin like an irritating itch you couldn’t quite scratch. The kind of burning need that would leave you feverish and frustrated in the early morning hours. Blankets tossed askew, skin heated and glossed with sweat as you lay squirming on the sheets, uncomfortable as you tried to fall back into a fitful sleep.

It was that very reason that you found yourself moving through each day like some sort of living dead. Today had been no different. As you stood in front of your sink preparing dinner, fingers gripping the cool metal you listened to the tap drip melodically into the steel pan. You found your mind drifting, sifting aimlessly through your memories until it landed on a snippet that your shameful brain seemed to have on repeat. That oddly warm day earlier in the week when Geto Sensei had dragged you into a training session that he insisted required two for the demonstration. “You’re the perfect partner for this lesson” he’d assured, flashing you with that charming coy smile of his that never ceased to make your knees wobble and your belly swirl.

So that’s how you’d found yourself trapped between his thick arms as he demonstrated a simple defensive grapple, on you. Your mind recalled the sensations in vivid detail. His feeling of his big palms locked around your nape, the way his broad form had dwarfed you. The flat of his stomach behind your back, hard muscle pressed to the curve of your spine. The way the fine hair on your arms had prickled when he’d leaned down, so close you could feel his breath puff over your ear, lips parted to purr out a whispered taunt: “You’re blushing.”

“Again? Seriously this is getting a little pathetic, even for you.”

The sudden interruption of an actual voice made you jump in place, tugging you back to the present. You blinked wildly, watching the sad reality of your dull kitchen fade back into focus as the detached voice continued to grumble, reverberating in your skull.

You’d ingested another cursed finger approximately four days ago, and every hour since had been near torture. Filled so incessantly with idle chatter from the so called ‘King of Curses’ that your head pounded with a near constant migraine.

“Oh shut it, would you?” You bit back, hand raised to rub at your brows as that familiar piercing stab of pain drilled behind your eye like the poke of an ice pick. Sukuna made an indignant huffing sound somewhere near your ear.

“Seriously.” He continued, entirely unperturbed. “Why don’t you just go fuck one of them. Or at least touch yourself.”

You nearly choked on your next breath. Sure he had belittled you in the past - called you all sorts of horrible things, insulted your technique, your fighting skills, even your damn cooking. But he’d never stooped to this level of raw vulgarity.

You managed to compose yourself by the time he’d stopped his biting slew of insults.

“I don’t remember asking a disembodied curse for advice.” You managed to huff, hand raised to twist the faucet on.

“Whatever, brat.” Came his growled reply. “I suppose we’ll both just have to deal with this pathetic yearning of yours, hm?”

You shook your head, slammed a pot beneath the tap and watched the white spray sizzle against the metal, willing the plethora of your depraved fantasies to swirl down the drain alongside the water.

Maybe the stupid curse had a point.

When you settled into bed later that evening after a bland and half-hearted meal, you found that dull ache was still there, simmering ever present below the surface. You squeezed your eyes closed, tried to clear your mind, but you found those biting words echoing in the empty space all the same:

“Why don’t you just go fuck one of them. Or at least touch yourself.”

You clenched your teeth.

“Fuck.” You breathed out into the empty air, a jagged, broken sound.

Before you could think better of it, you had tossed the sheets aside, and your hand snaked down beneath the hem of your panties, shoved unceremoniously between your thighs. You breathed in sharp, shallow breaths. It would be quick, methodical. Just enough to ease the desirous fog clouding your mind so you could finally get some sleep.

You began to flip quickly through the bank of memories behind your closed eyes - intimate accidental brushing of fingers, the muffled moans of past lovers - but just as your fingers crept down to tease into your wetness, a sudden vocalization by your ear made you bolt up in bed.

“Finally giving in to earthly temptation, huh sorcerer?”

Your hand shot up from between your thighs like the crack of a rifle. There was a deep, rumbled chuckle in return, and your face burned in the cool darkness of the room.

“Didn’t I tell you to get lost?” You hissed through gritted teeth, still a little uncomfortable with the concept of talking to a formless voice that was echoing in your skull.

“How can I, when your body’s wound so tightly?” Sukuna reasoned, and where his words were typically a grunted growl, you found that his tone was instead low and deceptively soothing. “It’s basically begging for my attention, how can I look away?”

You were panting a little, from the adrenaline coursing through you at being caught, and indeed from the incessant ache pulsing between your thighs. Your body felt electrified as a live wire, coiled up as tightly as he had said - ready to snap.

“Go on, little sorcerer.” He cooed, a melodic singsong - cocky and taunting. “Tug those sticky panties down and fuck yourself. Don’t let little old me stop you.”

The smoothness of his mocking tone sent an involuntary shiver down your spine, and felt your thighs twitch, pressing together beneath the sheets, suddenly cloying against your skin.

“Oh?” Came a knowing, sultry purr.

You clenched your teeth. Shit.

You’d generally been vigilant about keeping your thoughts close to your chest, lest the being possessing your mind and body press his ear to the locked door. But with the exhaustion creeping deep into your bones, and the raw need pulsing through your veins - you’d slipped.

“So you like my voice, hm?” He mused, voice thick with taunting. “Well listen to this then, pet.”

Your fingers twitched to life where they were splayed over your belly, like the death throes of a long deceased bug. You gazed down at your own limb in mild horror as your fingers began to crawl along your stomach entirely of their own volition.

“You wouldn’t last a single minute as my apprentice. Always rushing to the main event. Such impatience, such weakness.”

You watched, lips parted a little in shock as your own fingers teased up your abdomen. Trailing over the soft curve of your clothed stomach, over your belly button, fingernails dragging along the fabric there.

“W-What’s happening?…” Came your soft, confused murmur. Blood pounded hotly in your ears in a deafening thrum.

Another chuckle echoed in the cavern of your skull.

“Looks like that extra finger was a bad idea.” He tutted, and even without a physical form you could hear the way his lips were curled into a savage grin, enjoying the way you were beginning to shake with fear, anticipation. “Guess we found out just how many you can take, hm?”

Your other hand jumped to life alongside the first, teasing along the hemline of your thin pajama shirt, and you jumped when you felt a finger slip beneath and pet at the soft skin of your belly.

“Stop that.” You demanded, voice a betraying crackle as you watched your own fingers curl beneath the bottom of your shirt.

“You’re so pathetic that clearly I need to show you how to do this properly. So pay close attention to your Sensei now.”

As the words died out, your hands lifted of their own volition, peeling your shirt up in a teasing reveal of your body. The fabric slid up over your belly, your trembling rib cage, your sternum, until your bare breasts popped free. You watched in mild horror - chin pressed to your collarbones - as your palms slipped up, as if tugged by invisible string, and began to grope at your naked chest.

“Oh god…” You whimpered at the unexpected sensation, eyes squeezed closed.

It felt utterly surreal. Your brain recognized the sensation from your own palms - registering the warm flesh below your fingers, the feeling of palms against your chest - but to your mind it felt alien. A betrayal of your own limbs, hijacked by this foreign being occupying your body.

You felt disconnected from your body as you watched the dizzying sight of your hands squeezing your breasts. The impact of your touch felt bigger, rougher than you would have expected - like it was someone else’s hands teasing over your skin in place of your own. His hands.

“Feel that, little sorcerer? My hands tracing your body?” Came a placating coo.

And you could, you could feel it. Palms so big they dwarfed each of your breasts, thick fingers like vines rubbing and groping greedily at the plump flesh.

“If it were my true form manifested here, there would be double. Two to pinch at these pretty tits-“

As if to demonstrate, your own fingers clasped tight around either nipple, pinching so hard that you gasped out sharply into the heated air.

“-Two more to slip down and part your thighs.”

And there they were in your mind, and then on your body - big calloused palms sliding over your hips, gripping at the soft innards of your thighs, tugging them apart with a strength that made you groan desperately. You thought you could even feel a light smack against your skin, a corrective slap pressed to your outer thigh.

“Whining already? You really are pathetic.”

His hands, the real ones still kneading at your chest, pressed down suddenly, cupping so that your palms rested flat over either breast. At first you thought he was just teasing you further, rubbing the flat broad parts of your palms over your pebbled nipples - that was until the motion paused, and a sudden wetness made you gasp.

“Oh fuck.” You whined, head falling backward into the plush of your pillows when you realized what is what that you were feeling.

Lips, tongues, teeth. Two mouths forming on the heel of your own palms over each nipple. A rough chuckle echoed somewhere near your ear, and you jerked in place as the two mouths began to suck obscenely.

He was sucking your fucking tits.

Sharp teeth closed around either bud between the swirling of his tongues, nibbling and nipping until you were trembling in equal parts pain and desire. You were panting, making squeaking little sounds as you writhed atop the mattress, unable to tug your hands away, forced to simply lay back and feel his mouths defile you.

Your hands, no his hands groped at the fat of your breasts as he sucked. The room filled with an unashamed wet slurping, as if he knew the way the sound made you press your thighs together against the delicious heat was bubbling to life in your gut.

It was an odd feeling, watching your limbs move without you willing it. As if you were a passenger to your bodies own desires, or the desires of the curse sitting relaxed and comfortable in the drivers seat. Half of you wished you could tug your hands away, stop the incessant lapping, and the other half of you - the shameful little part of you you’d been fighting to hide these past few weeks - could only think about what the slick slide of his tongues might feel like between your parted thighs.

“That’s it.” Came his voice, purring in your ear. Through the haze of dull pleasure you thought you could even feel the brush of lips, his heated breath curling over the shell of your ear. “See? You’re learning now.”

In the next moment he had released you. Both palms tugged away from your chest, earning a shaky breath of relief - or maybe it was disappointment - from you. You watched through half-lidded lashes at the obscene sticky strings connecting his lips and your nipples before they snapped, leaving the hardened buds below slick with spit and bitten raw.

You wanted to speak, wanted to tell him to stop, but you found yourself entirely arrested by the sight of his mouths fading back into your skin. Less than a second passed, and you were staring at the flat of your palms as if they had never been anything other than plain old skin. That was until a sudden jerking movement shattered the illusion, and you watched one hand trail down your abdomen and dip unceremoniously beneath the waistband of your panties.

Despite your lack of control, you certainly didn’t lack sensation. You could feel yourself on your fingers when they dipped between your folds - how utterly soaked you were - arousal drooling pathetically from your weeping cunt as two fingers trailed down and slipped inside with little effort.

Your jaw went slack around a heated groan. Sure, you’d touched yourself before, curled your own fingers inside, but they had never felt so… big. They’d certainly never had you bucking your hips up like you were in heat, thighs trembling as you chased the friction.

“You feel that? How wet you are for me?“

He was fingering you hard, and deep. So deep that the flat part of your palm was grinding against your clit, making you whine with each downward press. All you could do was nod weakly, entirely absorbed by the sensation of watching your fingers move of their own volition between your thighs.

“Think I need a proper taste. What do you think, little sorcerer?”

“Oh yes, please…” You managed to croak despite yourself, collapsed limply into the sheets, submitting entirely to the whims of your parasite.

There was a pleased hum, and then you felt it - that familiar burst of warmth, a slick wetness as another pair of lips formed, and began mouthing right over where he was palming widely at your clit.

“Ohhhh Sukuna, fuck!-“

He cupped your cunt with broad fingers, giving your clit the same treatment as your abused nipples. Slurping greedily, tongue swirling in doting little circles. It was hot, and wet, and perfect.

“How does that feel, hm? Having my mouth on you like this - does it feel good?”

You shook your head feverishly, though you knew there was no point in denying him of anything. Not when he had your thoughts, your desires, your mind laid out bare before him like a vault door with the key left in the hole. He laughed again, this time a full bodied, cruel sound.

“There’s really no use in lying. I can feel you clenching pitifully around my fingers, twitching against my tongue. Greedy little thing.”

You could see it when you peered down through bleary eyes - the obscene slip of his tongue, pressed to your clit between an ivory grin as he devoured you.

“It’s been centuries since I’ve tasted a woman like this. Delicious.” He rumbled, words hummed into your ear like the purr of a pleased cat.

That tiny slip of praise alongside the push of your fingers and the dizzying slide of his tongue against your clit made you cry out unexpectedly, and you slapped a hand over your mouth in surprise, fingers pressed to your lips to quiet yourself. You jolted against the pressure of your own hand still grinding his tongue over your clit as your fingers curled in a lewd squelch - petting at that sweet little spot inside that had you writhing in place. Your other hand bit tight into your jaw where you were trying in vein to muffle your moans.

Groaning, you simply let yourself give in, lost in the sizzling pleasure until something poked, no, licked at your parted lips, before sliding - hot and wet - to crowd inside your mouth.

“Mpfh-!” You cried around the muffled press of fingers, eyes flying open in a brief moment of panic before the serpentine tongue slipping incessantly between your thighs had your eyes rolling back in your skull.

You bucked your chin up, lips locked with the pair formed on the base of your palm, planted firmly around your jaw. Through the blood pumping in your ears you could hear a satisfied sound.

“Thought you might have wanted a kiss.” Sukuna smirked snidely. “Silly girls like you always do when they’re coming apart.”

If not for the all-consuming pleasure wracking your body, you might have shook your head, maybe even bit defensively at the tongue crowding your mouth. But instead you parted your lips and moaned into the kiss, slipping your tongue over his in a filthy tangle.

“What a dirty little thing you are.” He purred. “Can you taste yourself on my tongue, hm?”

Sukuna kissed just like you’d imagined he would - rough and hungry, claiming. If he’d been manifested physically you’re sure he would have had your head locked between his hands. One massive paw around your nape, and the other clasped like a vice over your jaw.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Your head was clouded, ears stuffed full but for the sound of your own fingers slapping against your pussy, and his obscene slurping.

“Just look how well you take my fingers.” He mused voice soft in a rare slip of praise. “If we were in my era I’d train you to take cock just as easily. Would you like that?”

You didn’t have the mental strength to decipher whether he was being truthful, or if this was just another taunt. Another cruel way to degrade you, keep you docile, to grind you beneath his metaphorical boot.

Suddenly the hand pressed to your lips felt heavier, and you found when you urged it to lift from your face, it responded. You split from the unconventional kiss with a strangled cry, and sucked in an urgent gasping breath, lame hand abandoned in the pillows above your head as you panted weakly.

With your mouth free you found yourself making a plethora of weak sounds into the empty air. That little coil in your belly wound up tighter and tighter, until you were certain it was about to snap. Sukuna must have felt it too, must have heard the desperate begging in your subconscious mind, because your hand pressed down harder in response, fingers plunged ever deeper just to wring a broken sob from your throat.

“Go on, cry out for me, pet. Beg me to cum.” He goaded, voice hard now - urgent. “What’s wrong, don’t you want to?”

”Please ah- Sukuna, please!- hah-Keep-ah…touching me, please make me cum!”

If you squeezed your eyes closed you could almost feel it. His huge body pressed up against yours, thick pecs pressed to your skin, his breath puffed hot and slick over your ear. You could imagine it wasn’t your own fingers shoved between your thighs, but his cock - stuffed thick and heavy, filling you up until you choked.

That was all it took, that sinful image of this monster having his way with you seared into the blackness behind your eyelids and you were coming undone.

You went rigid when you came, writhing in jagged convulsions with each rush of pleasure - so all-consuming that you saw stars glittering in your vision, blurred at the edges with the beginnings of tears.

You were moaning, sounding more like you were crying than cumming - unrestrained and borderline animal, humping feebly up into your own palm until suddenly it was all too much. Pain began to overwhelm the pleasure in a cocktail of sensation that had your head spinning. You tried to tug away, but no matter how much you urged your hand to move, it remained firmly clasped over your cunt. You could feel his mouth below, suckling incessantly despite your shattered cries. With the last of your strength you forced your other hand downward to grapple desperately at the wrist still locked in place, to no avail.

“No.” Came Sukuna’s sharp denial. “For how much of an insolent brat you’ve been, you can give me another.”

“Hurts-hah-nnngg,ah-Sukuna please don’t-it hurts!-“

He ignored your babbling - a slurred string of his name mixed between desperate pleas and prayers. Your palm stayed glued to your pussy, the disembodied mouth there grinding in a steady rhythm, suckling at your oversensitive clit, drawing out little sparks of pain. Your free hand tugged feebly at your possessed forearm, fingernails digging into the skin so hard that you thought you might break skin.

“I don’t care if it hurts. Be a good little student and come for me again. Now.”

Fighting words died in your throat, and before you could think you were tripping over the edge again, tumbling into another orgasm so vicious that your senses cut out. You were really crying then. Body wracked with sobs, sniffling and drooling as fat teardrops carved hot winding paths down your flushed cheeks. The sounds you made were utterly broken. Sucking in choked gasps and strangled moans entirely void of coherence, unable to fathom shame or embarrassment for your behavior when you felt this good.

“Not bad, brat." Sukuna finally spoke, sounding oddly pleased. "I’m feeling generous tonight, you should feel lucky I don’t keep going until you pass out.”

To your utter relief, his hand released you with a vacuumed pop, and you collapsed back into the sheets, watching the detached mouth lick at its glistening lips before it fixed you with a pointed grin, and faded back into your skin.

You simply lay back in the sweat soaked sheets for a few moments, breathing, feeling your pulse slow. Eyes fluttered closed, you began to absentmindedly assess how your body felt. The sheen of sweat cooling to ice over your bare chest, bitten nipples still swollen hard and raw. Your arms collapsed either side of you, your thighs still spread open, loosely parted. Your limbs trembled with exhaustion, aching and abused, but they were unmistakably yours. Any sign of Sukuna’s presence within your physical form had seemed to fade alongside the last of his mouths.

But still, there was a humming in your skull, a smooth rumbled voice just below the buzzing static left in the wake of your orgasm.

“No need to fantasize about that lesser sorcerer anymore, hm?”

You licked at the drool drying at the corners of your lips, and you couldn’t help the way your mouth curled up into a soft smile as you felt yourself begin to doze off into sleep, body entirely void of energy and pleasantly warm. You might have almost thought that the King of Curses sounded jealous.