I tried making this gender neutral but idk if I did it right, please tell me any mistakes i made!
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The royal family has always been held to high standards. how they dress, how they act, everything has to be perfect in the eyes of the public
But a corpse sprayed with perfume is just a corpse nonetheless
Behind the closed doors of the royal chambers, anything was fair game; that was what your mother taught you: nobody is your friend, nobody is your ally. Do what you must to survive.
You never understood why you, being the youngest of 7 siblings, would have to fight to survive. The crown was never yours to take. So you stayed in your room, read books about knights in shining armor and princesses in castles, dreaming that maybe when you inevitably get sold to the highest bidder with the disguise of a political marriage, you could escape and live an adventure of your own
Oh, how foolish you were
you the one that was never seen as a treath and lived a quiet little life in your room, while your siblings, their mothers and allies stabbed eachother in the back.
one after the other the numbers where decreasing, 8 at the start now only one remains
your father very past his prime not able to have more children, so there’s only one heir to the throne.
long live the new ruler Y/N
You were never meant to be the next ruler of this kingdom, with all the responsibilities that came with being the head of the empire also came with a lot of expectation, one particularly was the one that gave you the most headaches
children.
you were expected to have multiple children ideally with different people to make political alliances and join new lands into your territory.
and a couple people were more than eager to bear them.
kalos the knight
Kalos was your friend, Was.
He was a trainee for the royal guard, he was an extraordinary strategist but lacked a lot of physical strength due to an illness he had.
you two met as kids bonding over a book you were reading, he used to pretend to be the knight in your stories and made promises of saving you when the time comes. You never meant to make him join your harem, you only suggested it when you found out that as a consort he would be able to join war meetings and go up the ranks as a knight.
it was a simple plan really, one with not much thinking behind it, he would get to use his brain as a war strategist and you had the excuse of starting a harem with somebody you had no interest in touching you or you touching them.
That was until in one of your personal tea parties kalos came dressed in silky clothing, one that showed his chest and shoulders. He put make -up on that day to accentuate his beautiful eyes and keep playing with your hair and trying to make excuses to touch you, after all you were so very tired of being a ruler and he was so very capable with his hands after all.
you understood too late that his devotion as a knight was not to the crown but to you
Bella the scholar
Bella had once been the apprentice of your father's most trusted advisor. After his passing, she inherited both his position and, much to her dismay, the responsibility of advising you. She often claimed she'd much rather spend her days tending to plants than attending council meetings, yet somehow she always managed to have the answer to every problem placed before the throne.
For a scholar, Bella looked nothing like the stories described. There were no flowing silk gowns or delicate gloves hiding ink-stained fingers. She favored practical tunics and sturdy boots, clothes that could survive crawling through forests or kneeling in muddy garden beds. Her hands were rough, littered with tiny cuts, calluses, and dirt permanently lodged beneath her nail,a testament to countless hours spent cultivating rare herbs and studying botany.
Rumor had it she could outlift half the royal knights, and after watching her haul sacks of soil across the palace gardens without breaking a sweat, you were inclined to believe it. She had little patience for etiquette, even less for nobles who mistook appearance for competence. More than one arrogant lord had learned the hard way that the woman they dismissed as a mere gardener possessed both a sharper mind and a stronger punch than they did.
Bella joined the harem by a dirty trick she pulled on you, the way you spend countless sleepless nights trying to solve problems for your people charmed her heart very quickly. One day while having some tea in her chambers you found that this new brew she prepared was specially sweet.
the next thing you knew was that you were passed out on her bed.
according to her you were just so sleepy and so vulnerable that she just let you sleep on her bed for the night.
After all, if any noble or servant saw their ruler in that state, they would talk and talk and that could harm your reputation.
oh but the implications of spending the night in another’s one chambers was so scandalous!
and thus she became part I of your harem as a “cover up”.
is not like she has been planning for months no, that would be foolish
Midas the foreigner
Midas was the only one that was disgusted to join the harem at first, he was more or less a gift sent by their parents to promote good relationships between lands.
When you two meet he was disgusted by you, not that he found you ugly or unattractive but that the thought of somebody using people for pleasure the same way one would use a new shirt everyday makes him feel inhuman.
he was very surprised when you made the statement of having not intention of touching them. A wave of relief washed over them, but only followed by skepticism, this must be a dirty trick to make them lower their guard, well news flash is not gonna happened.
they didn’t lower their guard for the first two weeks, even when you offer pastries and books about music that he adored so much.
Even when you got him his very own arp to perform in front of a banquet of people, something he's been dreaming of since he was a child. He didn’t lower his guard.
even when he tried so hard to convince himself that the ache in his heart and pant was not because he caught a whiff of your perfume.
when he finally lower his guard, full expecting you to take him, he got offended by you not doing anything.
not offended at YOU exactly. Maybe you were just too shy?
what if he wasn’t beautiful enough?, he was selected for you rather than his sibling, then why. Won’t. You. Take.him
he was breathtaking in any sense of the world
he could be more beautiful, he could be stunning he could be whatever you want him to be
synopsis — Trey has been compelled to observe other boys getting overly friendly with the prefect, and it's becoming too much for him to handle. Although green is his favorite color, he’s now started to see red. This time, he is determined to make his feelings clear towards the prefect. featuring Riddle
genre — (very soft) yandere, just possessive vibes aha
warning — none
note — istg im bad at writing summaries it sounds like the Ruggie one💀 + shout out to❣️anon for suggesting a sequel to the Ace-broken-foot(?) saga. You recommended some songs, yet I went with a completely different one😭 but I wrote this with you in mind, so I hope you like it !!
more works: masterlist
now playing: dark red - steve lacy
Riddle's vibrant red hair stands out like a solitary rose amidst the greenery in Trey's peripheral vision. Comparing it to a sore thumb would be too harsh, especially since Riddle is his friend. Much like Clover's relationship to the prefect. Just a friend. As Trey stands by the stove, stirring the leaves from their search inside the pot, he silently listens to the prefect and Heartslabyul’s housewarden engaged in a private conversation nearby, seemingly discussing something meant only for them. Trey could only observe from a distance.
“Once again, I sincerely appreciate you taking the time to assist a member of our dorm. Ace can be quite careless with his actions,” the hausewarden noted. Trey is fully aware of the lingering gazes Rosehearts directed at the prefect. Those looks were too friendly... and too obvious.
“Riddle, don’t worry about it! After all, Ace is my friend! I would certainly drop everything to help him!” The prefect let out a lighthearted giggle. They maintained eye contact with the boy as they organized the leftover leaves and retrieved a cloth. It was merely a friendly gesture, Clover reassured himself. After all, they were all friends.
Heartslabyul is home to shades of red, much like the hausewarden himself. Yet, Trey had always felt green—with envy.
“Unfortunately, I have a housewarden meeting coming up, so I can’t stay for long to assist. However, please let me know if you encounter any issues.” The red-haired boy instinctively grasped the prefect's hand in a gesture of gratitude, but as he realized what he had done, he became embarrassed. His cheeks flushed a soft pink, and he quickly released his grip. The prefect merely responded with a light giggle.
“I-I’ll see you both after the meeting!” Riddle announced as he departed from the dorm kitchen, leaving the two behind. A silence enveloped the room, broken only by the sound of boiling water and the prefect's busy hands. But before he could say anything, the prefect had decided to speak.
"Honestly, I should be the one to thank you, Trey." The boy lets out a small laugh at the mention of his name. Both figures are still busy tending to their own tasks with their backs facing each other.
"Really? Are we going to do this again?"
"Okay, okay! It's just... you're one of the best guys in this school." A brief silence envelops them, as Trey's breath catches at the compliment. The prefect adds, “That’s why I knew I could rely on you.”
Trey was taken aback by how deeply a seemingly casual remark could affect him. He had always recognized that he wasn't among their closest friends, particularly when compared to the group of first-years, like Ace and Deuce. However, the comment made him realize that his presence might hold more significance for them than he had previously thought. While it alleviated some of his uncertainties, it also sparked even more questions in his mind.
Once again, only the sounds of the boiling water from the pot fill the air.. Some tension could be felt by the green-haired boy as his eyes darken. Thoughts running through his mind. All centered around the very person he is alone with in the room. The prefect hums to a music only they knew and snaps the boy from his thoughts.
“I’ve got the cloth just as you instructed, by the way. I’ve laid it out here as well. Now, all we need to do is wait for the leaves to finish and place them on top, just as the book suggests.” They quietly step to the side of the island, right behind Trey, to retrieve the spellbook. “Once the leaves have cooled down, we can wrap them around Ace’s foot.”
Something bad is 'bout to happen to me
Clover remains quiet and instead continues to question what they had said in the beginning.
Why I feel this way? I don't know, maybe
“Really?” The prefect responds with a curious hum. “Did you truly mean it when you said I’m one of the best guys in this school?” The prefect considers the question briefly before replying straightforwardly. “Yeah, I think you’re a responsible guy. You’re also a dependable senior.” Both individuals fall silent once more. Without looking away, Trey smiles at their words.
I think of you so much, it drives me crazy
"My efforts in becoming the person I aspire to be in the future don't go to waste, then." This statement piqued the prefect's curiosity, raising an eyebrow in interest as they posed a question. “Oh? And what exactly do you aspire to be?”
I just don't want you to leave me (Babe)
Without any sounds of movement behind them, a pair of hands suddenly land on either side of the prefect. Startled by this unexpected action, they quickly turn around, only to find Trey's face looming very close. The prefect now finds themselves trapped between him and the kitchen island. His face moves closer ever so slightly.
"A good husband."
The smile on Clover's face appears inviting, yet the longer one gazes at him, the more unsettling it becomes. His eyes penetrate deeply into the prefect's, looming over them from the perspective of the pot simmering on the opposite side. A bead of sweat drops from their forehead. The boy's head tilts to the side with a hint of curiosity,
"Say, prefect." His voice was gentle yet sent shivers down their spine. The prefect suddenly sensed something was amiss regarding what was about to unfold. However, all they could do was watch the boy before them with wary eyes.
“What is your relationship with Kingscholar?” he asks, recalling a memory from just before they entered the dorm kitchen, specifically during their search for the leaves. It’s something that continues to trouble him. “You both appear so… close to one another?”
The prefect recalls a familiar memory and finds themselves perplexed by the question. They furrow their brows slightly and glance to the side, contemplating how to articulate their thoughts.
“Umm, well… describing our relationship as close would be… not quite right? I consider him a friend, but I wouldn't say as close as I am with the other first years.” Their voice trailed off as they met Trey's dark gaze once more.
"Then what do you think of Riddle?" The prefect begins to feel uneasy with the questions being posed. They find themselves questioning what could possibly be on the boy's mind to ask such things.
"Umm, he's a good guy. He's still a tad bit strict, but I know he's working on himself." Trey instinctively steps back from his close proximity to the prefect. Although a sense of ease was beginning to form within them, they were once again taken aback when he unexpectedly grasped their hand.
"Please don't give up on me." The grip on his hand became firmer. As the prefect looks up to Trey's face once more, this time, his smile seems more sincere. Too many questions are forming within their head, but they knew it's best not to entertain them.
⏾⋆.️˚🦇⟢ Charcaters?: Yapheth, Embdra, Edtric, Illumnia
⏾⋆.⚰️˚⟢ Reader?: Abandoned GN Reader
⏾⋆.🦉˚ ⟢Total Word Count?: 6.4k
⏾⋆.🍂˚ ⟢ Content Warning: Kidnapping? Yandere behavior, Manipulation, semi forced marriage
♱˖⊹🐈⬛ ࣪⟢ Summery?: A dragon father with three young has done his best to shield them from humans. His wife had suffered an untimely demise at the hands of human hunters. However, his world is flipped when his children discover you in a river. You are now a part of his hoard, and you may never leave.
♱˖⊹🕯️ ࣪⟢ A/n?: New theme, who this? Also, I will be moving all of my Yandere ocs to this blog, so be sure to look out for that. And some older ocs will be getting edits. This took me too long.
Yan Dilf Dragon who was a single father with three dragonlings that did more than pull the strands of his hair and gave him the most atrocious bald spots. He had no time to worry over his appearance, however. There was no intention to find a new mate. In his mind, there was no dragon that would do right by his younglings. Embdra and Edtric were rambunctious twins, and Illumnia was clingy even if she was an infant. Plus, the human hunters were encrouching on his territory once more. On top of child rearing, he had to find a new cave to move his family into. The lords above had no amount of celestial energy to even spare him the rest he deserved. There was no capacity of relaxation known to any being that could be what he needed.
Yan Dilf Dragon who leaves his twins behind for only a few minutes to try and find berries for their breakfast. He had Illumnia secured close to his chest while he did so. It was a big misjudgment to even consider Embdra and Edtric to take care of themselves without becoming too curious and leaving the safety of the cave. The panic attack this poor father was about to have had he not found the twin's tracks down to the river bank. Oh how splendorous. His children had drowned. That's the conclusion he had come to when the footsteps ended at the bank. His claws had tightened around the infant, making her squirm. She did not appreciate being her father's stress ball.
Yan Dilf Dragon who perks up at the sounds of mischievous giggles from two very familiar dragon children. His grip let up for a mere moment. He wasted no time bolting over to the source. He was elated to see that his children were safe and unharmed. What spiked his anxiety was the human lying unconscious in the river. He had no clue what to do. Was he to leave this human to die? If he took them in, would they betray him and hurt his family? He was about to do the former before the twins started begging him to keep the human. "Pleaaase daddy can we keep them? They gonna get sick if we leave them here," Embdra pleaded with the soft lilt in her voice that would have her father fold in mere seconds. Edtric would just nod frantically along with his twin sister, stating false facts as to why it would be terrible for them to leave this human behind.
Yan Dilf Dragon who manages to hoist your unconscious body up and over his shoulder. "Come." He commands his children. The twins hastily follow rather close to their father. The three dragonlings start poking your body. Embdra would swing your arms back and forth, not understanding that such exaggerated movements will cause you soreness later on. Edtric poked and prodded your upper arm. He was rather curious about humans. Where were their wings? Their scales? How did they keep warm in the cold without dragon fire to warm their hearts? Yapheth couldn't even begin to imagine the overwhelming bombardment this poor human will be going under once they awaken. And, of course, Illumnia was trying to reach her little hands over to try and pat this new creature on their back. Not even five minutes into walking back to the dragon family's home did all the little ones start whining. One wanted the human to wake up, the other wanted her father to carry her, and the youngest didn't want to be held at all so she could explore.
Yan Dilf Dragon who watches over you despite his abhorrence of all humans. He manages to distract his young ones from the waiting that had to occur while you recovered from whatever had caused you to pass out in the cold river. Midst the night hours, when he should be sleeping, curling his tail around his children to aid them in their slumber, he found himself staying up to keep an eye on you. Be it out of concern or paranoia. Yapheth didn't look away. He couldn't have you running out of the cave and telling the nearest town that you had been kidnapped by a dragon. Or worse, hurting his family with your own hands. However, he took notice at how gentle they were. With just a glance he could tell that you had never taken up a weapon. His curiosity had won over every aching fear in his mind. He crawled closer to you to further examine your physique. You didn't seem to be like the fierce warriors he's beheld when hiding in the forest shadows. He took his clawed hand up, placing it upon your forehead. You felt cold to the touch. Without thinking, Yapheth pulled one of the blankets he had stolen from a trespassing aristocrat and draped it over your body. The movement had caused Illumnia to awake. The infant toddled over to you, seeking out the new warmth. He tried to pull his child away, but she was not having it. Illumnia cuddled up on top of your stomach.
Yan Dilf Dragon who goes out hunting while you're still resting inside the cave. He instructs his children to watch over you. He was strict about not letting you run off when you wake up. The twins promise, and their approach to ensure you don't run off is sitting on top of you. The sight did make him release a rather rare chuckle. It would have become a chortle had Illumnia not tugged on the hanging fabric of his clothes. Her own form of begging her father to stay. He pushed her away, having Embdra hold her tightly. He left without another word. By the time the sun passed the middle point amidst the sky, Yapeth had managed to catch a deer. He had also managed to find a few fruits and vegetables from wild patches around the lake. He had taken a stop by the said lake to skin the deer of its fur. He didn't like doing such a thing in front of his children. He tried to shield them from as much violence as possible. His mind was elsewhere while doing his task. The thought of your presence took over most of it. You were a variable he had never counted on ever being a part of his life. He nearly cut his thumb when he heard a loud shriek. Edtric scrambled over, stumbling over his short legs due to the panic he was under.
Yan Dilf Dragon whose son tells him, "The human's dragon fire is back!" The boy didn't comprehend that humans couldn't have things like that. Yapeth did, however. He did his best packing up whatever he had found for dinner. There was little time because if Edtric was with him, then that meant the two most mischievous little dragons alive were left alone with a human. Unsupervised. Edtric gathered whatever was left by his father in the hopes of winning some praise and maybe a special treat for helping. Yapeth pushed through the trees, rushing back to the den. He watched his daughters patting your cheek. They were trying to rouse you from your coma-like state. He pushed them away laboriously. Once he was positive his daughters weren't in the way, Yapeth examined you. He placed the back of his clawed hand against your forehead. He stiffened instantly. You were scorching. Your skin had the look of sickness. You didn't have dragon fire; you had a fever. He was lucky he had harvested the vegetables. He knew the basics for healing small sicknesses like this. He had kids who were full of all sorts of viruses and got into everything gross, after all.
Yan Dilf Dragon who remains by your side for the next couple days. It felt odd to do something like this. He hadn't done this in forever. Not since his wife had died. It felt peculiar to care for something older than his children. He had his twins aid in switching out the damp cloth on top of your forehead. He would spoon-feed you soup to ensure you didn't starve. Your body needed the nutrients. It soothed Yapeth when he detected your body relax when you ate. It was a sign that you were healing. Late at night, while his children huddled around you, you awoke with a cough. You tried to sit up but he wouldn't let you. It would only make things worse. Not to mention, wake up his children. "Where am I?" you strained to speak. Your voice was barely there from the lack of moisture in your throat. "My home," Yapeth spoke simply. He said nothing more. You wanted to question the dragon in front of you. Your vision was far too blurry, and your head ached too much to even think of anything more to voice. Yapeth left for a moment, returning with a wooden bowl and golden ladel. Steaming water resided in the bowl. He placed it beside you, using the ladle to gently spoon the water into your mouth. It soothed the ache of sickness in your body. "We can converse once you are well," he brushed a hand across your forehead to wipe away the sweat that collected there.
Yan Dilf Dragon who found some delight in caring for you. The more you healed, the more trust he had in you. There was a sick sense of pride in it. Not to mention the unspoken promise that if he healed you, then you couldn't run. Then you couldn't put his family in danger. Any sign of you wanting to leave was shut down by the excuse that you weren't well enough. At first it made sense. You still had a cough, and your body temperature fluctuated from normal to fever. Once you had recovered enough to be conscious, the children had the chance to finally ask you all sorts of questions. You were bombarded by two little dragonlings who could talk. And one who babbled excitedly to match her older siblings' commotion. "Do you breath fire?" Embdra shouted. It was Edtric's turn soon after his sister finished, "Can you fly? Where are your wings?" Several questions of a similar vein were tossed around before you could even answer any of them. You sat up to finally speak, but Illumnia took the chance to shove her hand in your mouth. Yapeth bolted over instantly. He pulled the infant away before you could even blink. What followed was the children whining about their father ruining their fun. "No more pestering. Go gather flowers," Yapeth demanded. He adjusted Illumnia to rest against his side. The twins ran off in hopes of finding the perfect blooms for you. He leaned over to help you up. It was time to guide you to the resting area he had been working on. A luxurious bed he took from a traveling merchant that had been covered in elegant blankets from a royal carriage. He managed to find a mattress too. It was so much more comfortable than the floor you had been sleeping on for the past two weeks. "Better rest for you." Yapeth pushed you down onto the bed. He tucked you in and pressed a kiss onto your forehead. Something he didn't fully think through. But when you relaxed when he did it? He almost wanted to do it again.
Yan Dilf Dragon who convinces you to stay once you're all better. "The children will become ever more distraught if you leave out of nowhere. They seem to have become rather attached to you, and I would be a terrible father if I allowed such a thing," Yapeth was rather condescending with his words. The subtle manipulation wasn't lost on you, though it was better to obey the dragon than upset him. He was the one in control here. You were in his territory. You've become his territory. Without doing anything but lying sick, you managed to fill his heart's missing piece his wife had left. He knew it would be better to let you go. To let you free. It made his scales shiver every time he thought about it. What would your leaving mean for the kids that got so attached to you? There were still some trial runs that he wanted to put you through. Now that you were well you could handle the clingy children. He could feel their excitement. Their wanting to be near you was ever clear to you. The first night in the new bed was cozy. Embdra and Edtric wanted to try it out with you. They wanted to keep the monsters away. That's what they expressed to their father, at least. He didn't allow them on the bed, not knowing how much weight could be put on it, so they compromised on sleeping on the floor beside it. When you awoke to a new dawn, you nearly tripped over the twins.
Yan Dilf Dragon who pampers you over time. After a month of you being with him, Yapeth can be comfortable with you without the worry of you bringing bloodshed. Whenever your hair is messy, Embdra would run over with a luxury brush and watch her father take care of it. Embrda would insist you braid her hair while her daddy does yours. Whenever you're messy, Edtric brings all sorts of towels while you bathe in the lake. Yapeth is also nearby, warming the water if he notices you shivering. Illumnia is always in charge of when you eat. The infant can tell whenever you're in need of something to eat. She'll sit beside you while you stare off into the distance, reaching her hand out to pat your tummy. Without fail, your stomach responds with a gurgle of need. Not soon after, Yapeth would be behind you, spoon-feeding you your favorite meal. Illumnia would climb into your lap. She would beg to have some but was denied with a tut of her father's tongue. In protest, she decided your finger was to be her snack. It felt weird to have fangs against your skin. Another pair of larger, sharper fangs found themselves against your neck. Yapeth had decided to follow in his youngest's footsteps. Your laughter rang out through the cave as you became a dragon chew toy. The sweet sound caused Yapeth to feel rather flushed. He wanted to hear it again and bottle the sound into a jar to keep forever.
Yan Dilf Dragon who studies your mannerisms to better read you. He wanted to be all-knowing about you so he could impress you. To show that he's capable of understanding humans and that no other being could provide for you. His children become his spies. You were allowed to wander outside as long as the twins went with you. They would hold your hand with big toothy grins. They would do anything for their papa, and if it meant hanging out with you, then it made it a hundred times better. You would sit in a field of flowers with the sun shining brightly upon you. The twins were busy picking flowers while you set up a small picnic for them. Yapeth had told you a dragon's appetite is greater than the flame of their soul. So you had been careful to pack several snacks that you considered to be appetizing for the dragonlings. Embdra would come back with her fists full of flowers, while Edtric had his hands filled with several rocks. "For [Name]!" They both claimed. Embdra laid the flowers neatly around the blanket you were sitting on in a protective-like ring. Edtric was sitting in front of you, showing off all the rocks he collected for you. Each one representing some shape the boy thought he saw in the abstract stone mass. Once both had finished, they took some of the charred meat their father had prepared for your outing. You had berries yourself, not liking the flavor of burnt meat. The two dragons seemed quite pleased. They rarely had any alone time with you, if at all. Yapeth would monopolize your time for the most part. Even in the small things you did with them, he would be sitting behind you with his hands wrapped tightly around your stomach. He had become more and more clingy the longer you stayed. Edtric thus decided it was time for the investigation to begin. He gently tugged on the sleeve of your clothing, peering up at you, "[Name]ling," he called you, like Yapeth had done once he had become ever more attached to you, "Papa says that humans like babies. Is that true?" You had to stifle your reaction, something in between a gasp and laughter, in favor of not choking on your berries. "Some do. It's up to each person," You answered as best you could. Embdra, now squirming to try and get into your lap, placed her messy hands on your cheeks. Her expression took on a serious one, "Do humans mate for forever? Papa says they do, but I saw a king and queen fighting in a carriage once. Did that mean they not mate, [Name]ling?" Another question that would have brought giggles from your throat had you not held your tongue. You cupped her cheeks to keep her eyes trained on you. "Human relationships are complicated. We do have romantic relations, yes, but not all of them last forever. Some don't make it to marriage, and others end their marriages after years of being together. However, fighting is rather natural for some couples," you sighed, trying to not make it seem overcomplicated to the children in front of you. The twins were perplexed. This new word came about, and they didn't know what it meant. "What's a 'marriage,' [Name]ling?" the two inquired in unison. "A marriage is when two people who love each other dearly hold a ceremony to be connected to each other for life under the eyes of the gods. There's usually a priest to unite the two souls together with vows and promises. And there are rings that show the two are connected in such a binding. Then, usually, the two people who are married live together. They cook together, go out on sunny days, and clean up around the home," you did your best to provide every detail in a way children could understand. It seems Embdra and Edtric caught on. Their eyes lit up as if some things were connecting for them. "You and papa be married!" Edtric cried out. His sister nodded vigorously in agreement, "Yes Yes! Papa and [Name]ling married!" Thus, another explanation ensued where you tried to tell them you were not married to Yapeth because a ceremony hasn't happened yet and that doing shared chores alone doesn't compare.
Yan Dilf Dragon who is regaled by the twins with what you had shared with them. You were fast asleep as Edtric and Embdra raved about what marriages were. They tried to keep their chirpy voices down so you wouldn't be disturbed, but excitement overtook them. "[Name]ling said that humans have soul-tying ceremony with mate!" Embdra boasted. Edtric followed soon after, "And and they cook and clean after ceramony! And they go outside to play!" The intel Yapeth had gathered was the same conclusion the two young dragons came to. You and him were practically married. You helped him with cooking by making your human meals to share with his children. You would accompany him and Illumnia on rainy days when the infant was too restless to nap. You would clean all the fabrics down by the lake and tidy up the cave so it seemed more organized. "So the human is already my 'marriage'?" he whispered. Embdra attached herself to her father's leg, shaking her head in disagreement. Yapeth's smile turned to a frown, "Then how does one 'marriage' with a human?" Edtric ran to the hoard pile, rummaging through his father's belongings. Yapeth had zero clue what the boy was doing, but he didn't appreciate his treasures being tossed about. Edtric came out of the pile with a loud burst. Gold coins were scattered amongst the floors as the dragonling ran over to his father with something clutched in his hands. "What do you have here, youngling?" Yapeth tried taking a peek before Edtric could even show off what he found. The boy unfolded his fist in due time, showing off his findings to his father and twin sister, "[Name]ling said marriaged mates have rings. That rings are sign of soul-tying. No ring, then it doesn't count." That's when his brain clicked. So you needed a ring to be married. Then Yapeth knew what he had to do.
Yan Dilf Dragon who, over the next few days, tried to hint to you that he wanted to tie his soul to yours the way humans do. That he wanted you to wear his ring as a symbol of his ownership. When you would put Illumnia to bed for naptime, he tried hiding it under the book you liked to read while you watched her. He hadn't counted on the book being far too engaging for you not to notice anything else. So he tried hiding it in the flour for your cooking. It sank to the bottom of the ceramic jar, and you didn't even feel it with the spoon you were using. Yapeth also hadn't considered that you might have accidentally cooked it into whatever dish you were preparing. He agonized over how to get you to notice what he's trying to do. He thought of having his twins deliver the ring, but they might say their own thing rather than what he instructed them to. If he hid it in a flower he gave you, would you even try to look for it? It was eating him alive. You did so much to his heart now. He never expected himself to stoop this low to appease a human. To try to convince a human to be his mate. Had some being told him he would be tripping over his own feet to try and bond with a human before he had met you, he would have torched them alive. He was trying to find the perfect way to present the ring to you. To show you that he was the best option of companionship for you. How was he to convince you to be his forever with him? He spent the rest of the week moping about the cave. He didn't go out to hunt. He didn't go foraging. And worst of all? He wouldn't provide Illumnia her much-demanded cuddles. He was losing sleep and drive all because you had turned his world upside down.
Yan Dilf Dragon who had enough of contemplating. He stopped his moping to find you. You were outside, cleaning your bedding by the lake with great care. You had the sweat of a hard worker glazed atop your forehead. It made you look even more stunning. A true gem that any dragon would be lucky to have in their hoard. You wiped the evidence of your hard work from your forehead with the back of your arm. Now that you were standing, it was easier to do what he's been longing to do. In an instant he was behind you. His large arms laced around to your front, dragging you to be pressed against your chest. You jumped, thinking it was someone trying to attack you. You had only realized who it was when he didn't move. "Yapeth, what are you—" you were interrupted by the loudest whine you ever heard from him. It would have been a blow to his pride, but he couldn't care about that now. You already destroyed every sense of himself. He kept whining, his arms tightening around your torso. He felt so shameful. "Do you realize what you have done, human? The mess that you've left me in? I should hate you. I should eat you alive. But I can't bring myself to do so. I can't even consider imagining ever hurting you. Not for the sake of my children, but for the sake of my own heart. It is a great feat to tame a dragon, but an even greater one to have a dragon want to own you as theirs," Yapeth sounded so distraught. As if saying all this outloud would make you run. That it would be the thing that made you abandon him. "What are you going to do to fix the ache in my heart, [Name]ling? I need you to heal me because surely I am ill to feel such pain for you. My heart aches when you gaze upon me. My dragon flame becomes hotter than before," Yapeth notched his chin to rest on the crook of your neck. One of his arms released your torso, sliding across your own arm. His claws danced along your skin. He reached for your hand, his claws tightening around it once he took it in his hold. "I want you to be mine. I want to have the ceremony with you. The one where we tie our souls together in the eyes of your gods. Please... I hate begging for things that are so just out of my reach."
Yan Dilf Dragon who finally slides the ring upon your finger. He twists the metal band around, making sure it fit you right. His whining stopped almost instantly when he saw the ring on your hand. You were reeling from all of this. It felt so fast. Yapeth hated you when he first met you. He thought you were a parasite in his family. You could feel his animosity when you were awake. Now though? He was begging. Begging for you to be by his side for all eternity. It felt odd to want to agree. Was this something you wanted? Your home was still waiting for you. Your doubt was clear to him. How could it not be? He spent months studying your mannerisms. When you were sad. When you were happy. He knew when things made you falter or light up. His claws wrinkled around your clothing. He didn't address your worry. He didn't even give you a chance to reject his advances. He picked you up into a bridal carry and held you close. Your head was level with his heart. You could hear it pounding from behind his muscles. He dipped his head down to seal his affections for you into reality. A long kiss was pressed onto your cheek, his lips not leaving your skin until you started to subtly shift around. "There is much to prepare. I want to give you the greatest ceremony. A beautiful garment, gorgeous flowers, and possibly a crown. There will be a feast, too. A perfect marriage for you and me," Yapeth voiced. It wasn't like you could reject him. He was making it clear that there was no room for you to disagree. The sheets and clothing you were cleaning were left behind at the lake. There was no need to worry over simple things like that. Your hands would be better suited for caring for your future family with him. His children would be excited to have more siblings. Embdra and Edtric would be excited to help you with cute little half-dragons.
Yan Dilf Dragon who doesn't waste any time in setting up his own small marriage ceremony for you. He makes sure there are foods you like and the venue is secluded but exquisite. The perfect scenery to create the absolutely impeccable memory of you two together in your joining of souls. His daughters were adorned in precious gold jewelry and dresses that matched the outfit he chose for you to wear. Their hair was decorated with several of your favorite flowers. Embdra and Illumnia felt like princesses. His son had set up the venue. Edtric was also in charge of the guest list, which was mostly foxes and wolves. It was quite the sight to see so many foxes and wolves sitting in front of a broken wooden arch left behind by humans. Yapeth's focus was mostly on decorating you to be his new companion. You were meticulously outfitted in light, breathable fabrics with matching jewels. A brilliant tiara that held gems that matched your eyes was placed upon your head. "Only the best for my greatest find," he whispered against your ear. His breath felt hot and smelled of charcoal. He held your head in his hands, pressing reverent kisses upon your face. Each one was a testament of his growing appreciation for your presence. "I have been granted such a glorious gift from the skies. You were unexpected, yes, but such a surprise. I am ever grateful that my dragonlings had discovered you back in that river. That I got to be the one to take you home. To nurse you back to health. I was alone for so long, I forgot what it had felt like to have the warmth of someone else beside me. In my arms. You are my greatest gift," he ranted while he adjusted your clothing. Your head was spinning from such praise. How did things escalate this far?
Yan Dilf Dragon who carried you to the venue in silence. He didn't want your garments to become dirty before you two had reached the destination. Embdra, Edtric, and Illumnia were already waiting for you two. The forest was buzzing in response to such an exciting thing to happen. The mighty dragon that ruled with fire and flame was trying himself to someone after years of mourning for his wife. He placed you down carefully once you reached the hidden-away clearing with bright sunshine. His children were giggling, watching their father be all soft on you. They took their seats amongst the wolves and foxes. Yapeth walked you down the path decorated with flower petals. Illumnia squealed when she saw you. Her chubby arms tried reaching out for you when you walked past. Her squirming had become too much for Embdra, so you had ended up carrying the infant along the aisle walk. Yapeth's heart lurched at the way you looked holding his fussiest baby. She was always calmer around you. Her little tail curled around your arm. Yapeth led you to stand underneath the overgrown arch, plucking two flowers for you. Edtric took that as his sign to run up and stand between you. The children were seemingly matching their father's energy in excitement and joy to have you be a part of their family officially.
Yan Dilf Dragon who gave you the kindest smile you've ever seen him wear. He watched as his littlest one played with the collar of your clothing. You fit in so well with them. He was so lost in your eyes that it had taken Edtric clearing his throat three times for him to be pulled out of it. "Papa! Gotta make the promises!" Edtrict reminded Yapeth. The dragonling continued, addressing the crowd and his twin, "We gather here for soul binding! With [Name]ling and Papa! Now make promises of happiness and togetherness till the end of forever!" Yapeth nodded once Edtric had finished. He took your hand and brought it to his face. He twisted the ring on your finger, gazing at you with a fiery passion. "My [Name]ling. Please do me the honors in being mine forever. I will vow to provide for you better than anyone else ever could even consider. Your head will have the gentlest place to rest within my residence. Your heart will always feel warm in my embrace. Not to mention that my little dragonlings have become quite close to you. Will you be mine?" he questioned as if the answer wasn't already obvious. Your thoughts were everywhere. Would it be best to agree? You would be well taken care of. And well loved. The burning fire in Yapeth's eyes was what scared you. You never noticed how bright they burned until now. "I accept..." you nodded reverently. All life around you cheered at your agreement. The wolves howled. the foxes chirped, and the children squealed. He finally leaned in and sealed these promises with a kiss on your lips. It was soft. A contradicting feeling to the rough hold he had on you. Illumnia, not wanting to be outdone, tried to mimic her father. It just ended up with her gnawing on your cheek.
Yan Dilf Dragon who was finally tied to you. Or so he believed. At the very least, the forest regarded your conjunction and responded with loud, animalistic cries. It was finally time to jubilate. Yapeth took Illumnia from you to free your arms. He guided you to the food laid out upon several blankets. It had been reminiscent of your picnic day with the twins. He wanted you to be well fed after something this exciting. And he wasn't one to pass up the opportunity to feed you, and it would be even better with how pretty you looked. He kept you close to him. He needed you close because you could still run. His paranoia took a complete 180. It wasn't about you running off and spreading word of a dragon family living deep in the woods that kept you longer than they should have, either. His worries lied in a stray human mistaking you for being in danger and running away with you. He didn't even want to consider such a fate to be feasible. It wouldn't be as long as he was there for you. To take care of you. To nurture you as gently as his claws would allow. Embdra, being tugged by Edtric, stood before you. Her father's intimidating gaze caused her to freeze up. Whispers of encouragement had been sourced by Edtric, trying to convince his sister to do something. You did not know what that 'something' was. The girl fumbled with her dress, tugging it down with her claws. Her voice was quiet, "I… I have a dance for Papa and [Name]ling…" She had been practicing it for days. With a nod from her brother, she started to dance with the flower petals. It was messy, sure, and a little uncoordinated, but it was very thought out. Something you could tell was worked on with great care. As you watched, Yapeth spooned bits and pieces of food into your mouth. He wanted your attention to be on him and him alone, but he couldn't deny his little girl this important moment. The dance was dedicated to him, too, after all. Once she had finished, she ran into your chest. She wanted reassurance that her dance was adequate. That she had done a good job and had done something you would enjoy. "Did [Name]ling like it?" her voice was timid against your chest. "I enjoyed it, little one. You did such a good job," you brushed the bangs away from her eyes to give her a proper smile. Edtric bolted beside you to tug on your arm. He wanted praise for his "priest" job. You tried to provide but your mouth had been stuff filled with food. By the moon rise, you were coiled around four different dragon tails and surrounded by purring dragons.
Yan Dilf Dragon who transforms from the fierce dragon filled with hatred due to the grief his heart never released to a monster who would tear the world down if you ever left his arms. He was addicted to your warmth. Days on end have become constant cuddle sessions. Convincing him to hunt became a chore. His children had to pry him off of you with their own claws. He made big deals out of leaving you alone for a second. He had his children swear to him that you would be safe. Even then he would whine as loud as a desperate puppy for you. His children would scold you whenever you did something their father wouldn't like. Their explanation always involved that they did not like when their papa was scary. Domestic life fit you so well in Yapeth's mind. It fit him too. The taste of home-cooked meals felt right, in a way. Well, whenever he even managed to get past missing you and put effort into hunting. Your skin would be marred daily with love bites because your husband had no clue what restraint meant. Yapeth just found it absolutely appealing to see you with the marks of his fangs on your skin. Not because they were markings of a mate, but because you looked absolutely stunning with them. Rough affections and rough declarations of dedication from all of them were the norm in your life now. It was best to let Yapeth do what he thought was best for you. It was hard to disagree with him. Especially when it ended up with him sleeping outside in the cave because he thought he upset you and you didn't want to see him ever again. Even worse when he puts his children through such worrisome events. Just kiss his cheek and reassure him that you meant your agreement to the vow of being tied to him for forever and everything will smooth itself over.
Property of @cursedfallingmoon! Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome! ₊ ⊹ .
Yandere!Dragon treats you like the crown jewel of his entire existence. Dragons are biologically driven to hoard precious, beautiful things, and the second he laid eyes on you, his instinct labeled you as his permanent property. He doesn't care about gold, gems, or ancient artifacts; your cold skin, your elegant fangs, and your immortal grace are the only treasures he cares about protecting.
Yandere!Dragon is obsessed with your cold temperature. Because his own body naturally runs incredibly hot, his blood practically boiling with draconic fire, he treats you like his personal cooling system. He loves pulling you into his lap and wrapping his massive, leather-scaled wings completely around you, effectively trapping you against his chest. He’ll sigh happily as your icy, vampire energy balances out his heat, completely ignoring the fact that you literally cannot move until he lets you go.
Yandere!Dragon handles your nocturnal lifestyle by creating the ultimate, sun-blocked sanctuary. He knows the sun is your literal kryptonite, so he took over a massive, deep cavern complex or a heavily fortified, windowless estate and turned it into a luxury "nest." He’s lined the floors with the softest furs, silks, and velvet blankets, making sure you have absolutely no reason to ever leave the dark safety of his territory.
Yandere!Dragon has a terrifyingly possessive attitude toward your feeding habits. He flat-out refuses to let you hunt or feed on random humans. Instead, he insists that you take your blood directly from him. Because dragons possess incredible vitality and hyper-accelerated healing, you can feed on him heavily without ever putting his life in danger. He gets a dark, intoxicating rush whenever your fangs pierce his scales, whispering about how your immortality is literally being sustained by his fire.
Yandere!Dragon goes into a state of pure, destructive rage if anyone else gets too close to you. If a werewolf, a human hunter, or even another vampire looks at you for too long, his draconic eyes will slit, and smoke will literally start curling from his nostrils. He doesn't just scare threats away; he obliterates them. He’ll remind you with a low, rumbling growl that he can burn down entire kingdoms if they try to take you from him.
Yandere!Dragon weaponizes your natural vampire weaknesses to keep you dependent on him. He knows you can't cross running water easily or handle bright sunlight, so he purposefully picked a territory surrounded by roaring rivers and harsh day-lit valleys. He will happily carry you across any obstacle in his dragon form, but he makes it very clear that without his wings to shield you and his strength to move you, you are completely stranded.
Yandere!Dragon views your immortality as a divine sign that you were made for each other. Dragons live for millennia, and the fact that you won't age or die of sickness means he never has to worry about losing his hoard to time. He’ll hold you tight in the dark of his nest, his heavy tail resting across your waist like a seatbelt, completely satisfied knowing that for the next thousand years, you belong entirely to him.
Yandere!Dragon is actually just the latest in a long, ridiculous line of dragons who completely lost their minds over vampires. It’s a massive running joke in his family. His grandfather married a noble vampire countess, his father married a rogue vampire assassin, and his older brother’s nest is already packed with black velvet coffin-beds. When he first brought you home, the men in his family didn't even look surprised; they just sighed, handed him the "welcome to the coven" handbook, and said, "Yep, the family curse strikes again."
Yandere!Dragon gets aggressively roasted at family gatherings because his yandere behavior is so incredibly predictable to them. While he’s sitting there glaring at the servants, wrapping his wings tightly around you, and lowkey snarling if anyone looks your way, his dad is just drinking wine and laughing. "Look at him, he’s doing the exact same brooding thing I did when I met your mother. let the poor kid breathe, son, they aren't going to evaporate."
Yandere!Dragon hates how comfortable you get around his family’s vampire in-laws. Because his brother’s and father’s wives are also vampires, your arrival basically sparked an immediate, exclusive group chat. They understand exactly what it’s like to be hoarded by hyper-possessive, fire-breathing lizards. If you ever complain about how suffocating his nest is, your new sister-in-law will just pat your hand and say, "Oh, honey, just freeze his tail when he sleeps, he’ll loosen his grip instantly."
The family dynamic makes his possessiveness ten times funnier but no less intense. When you guys visit the family estate, the architecture is already fully optimized for you. There are massive sun-blocking curtains everywhere, subterranean tunnels, and zero silver decor. Your dragon gets incredibly frustrated because he can’t use the "the outside world is too dangerous for a fragile vampire" excuse when his mom is literally outside in a giant sun-hat, casually tending to her night-blooming gardens.
Yandere!Dragon tries so hard to prove that his bond with his vampire is the most superior one in the family tree. During family dinners, he’ll loudly brag about how your fangs are sharper, or how your icy skin feels the best against his fire scales. His older brother will literally roll his eyes and start a bidding war over whose vampire partner has the higher body count from their days of human hunting. It’s just a room full of terrifying, ancient dragons aggressively flexing how much they spoil their respective bloodsuckers.
Yandere!Dragon gets highly defensive when his father tries to give him advice on "dietary maintenance." Since dragon blood is the standard food source in their household, his dad will criticize his healing speed. "You're looking a little pale, son, are you letting them feed properly? Back in my day, I could let your mother drain me twice a week and still burn down a village the next morning." It drives your partner insane because he wants his relationship with you to be private, but his entire bloodline is treating it like a team sport.
At the end of the night, when you two finally escape back to his personal nest, his possessive facade comes right back. He’ll lock the massive stone doors, pull you into his lap, and bury his face in your neck, letting out a low, rumbling pout. "Don't listen to my brother. and don't listen to his wife. You're my hoard, not theirs. I don't care if 'everyone' marries a vampire, you're the only one that matters to me."
Yandere!Gamer is the undisputed leader of your character's pre-release fandom. The game developers only dropped a 10-second teaser trailer and a single piece of concept art for you, but his brain instantly rotted. He dedicated his entire TikTok account, Twitter, and a 5,000-member Discord server exclusively to you. His bio is literally just your name with a bunch of heart emojis, and he hasn't posted about any other piece of media since the day you were leaked.
Yandere!Gamer TikTok feed is the definition of "unhinged dedication." he posts daily countdowns to your release date, detailed frame-by-frame analyses of your teaser, and edits of your static concept art set to slowed-and-reverb love songs. The comments are always a mix of people saying "bro is hyper-fixated" and "the game isn't even out yet, please touch grass." he doesn't care. He blocks anyone who says another unreleased character looks cooler than you.
Yandere!Gamer is a master data-miner entirely because of you. he didn't even know how to code six months ago, but he taught himself how to scrape the game’s beta files just to find anything related to you. If he finds a single untextured 3D model of your hair, a leaked voice line, or a scrap of your lore in the game's code, he hoards it like a dragon. He won't even post the best leaks on his TikTok because he doesn't want other players "looking at you" before they're supposed to.
Yandere!Gamer gets aggressively jealous of other fans who "hype" you up. If a famous cosplayer announces they're working on your outfit, or an artist draws a beautiful piece of fan art that goes viral, he loses his mind. They’ll leave passive-aggressive comments or make stitch videos picking their work apart. "The eye color is actually two hex codes lighter in the official file, but nice try, I guess," he genuinely believes no one understands your "true essence" except him.
Yandere!Gamer has already spent thousands of dollars preparing for your banner release. He streams his gameplay every night just to grind the premium in-game currency, refusing to spend a single coin on current meta-characters. He has enough materials saved up to instantly max out your level, your skills, and your weapons the exact second the servers go live. his chat will ask, "What if their kit is bad?" and he’ll just stare dead into the webcam. "I don't care about the meta. I'm triple-crowning them day one."
Yandere!Gamer room is a literal shrine to a character that technically doesn't exist yet. He commissions custom merchandise like acrylic stands, mousepads, and giant dakimakura (body pillows)—using your leaked beta rendering. He sits at his desk, surrounded by your face on three different monitors, completely cut off from his real-world friends. If anyone asks him to go out, he rejects them because he needs to stay home and moderate your fan spaces.
Yandere!Gamer treats the developers like literal prison guards holding you captive. Every time the game company posts a general update on Twitter, he is the first person in the replies demanding your release date. He writes essays on the game's forums about how the writers better "treat you right" in the story arc. he has built an entire life, a career, and a psychological dependency around a collection of unreleased pixels, completely convinced that when the game finally updates, you're coming home to him and him alone.
Yandere!Gamer turned the release night stream into a literal religious event. He went live five hours before the server maintenance even finished, sitting at his desk in a custom shirt featuring your leaked concept art. His room was glowing dark purple, his chat was moving so fast you couldn't read a single line, and his hands were visibly shaking every time he took a sip of his energy drink. He had been waiting a year for this exact night, and he was completely running on adrenaline.
The second the servers opened, he didn't even read the patch notes; he just dumped his life savings into the gacha system. When your five-star silhouette finally appeared on the screen, he didn't just celebrate; he completely lost his mind. He fell out of his gaming chair, dropped to his knees on his streaming mat, and just started sobbing into his hands while the pull animation looped in the background. The chat was spamming “BRO IS ACTUALLY CRYING,” “GIVE THIS MAN A SEDATIVE,” and “HE DID IT!!”
But the real viral moment, the clip that blew up his TikTok to a million views overnight, was when he started your official story quest. Up until now, you had just been a silent 3D model in his leaks. The exact moment the screen faded from black, your character walked into the frame, and your voice line played for the very first time, he let out this horrific, soul-crushing screech. He literally covered his mouth, eyes completely wide and bloodshot, tears streaming down his face as he stared at his monitor like he was seeing god.
"They're talking to me. chat, look at them, they're looking right at the screen, they're talking to me." he was completely ignoring the actual plot of the game; he was just hyper-fixating on your dialogue. If your character said something generic like, "I've been waiting for you, traveler," he would slam his hands on his desk, pointing at his chest, completely unhinged. "THEY SAID THEY WAITED FOR ME. OUT OF EVERYONE PLAYING THIS GAME RIGHT NOW, THEY SAID IT TO ME. RECORD THAT. CLIP THAT."
The TikTok edit of his reaction went mega-viral because it was the perfect mix of hilarious and genuinely terrifying. a fan edited his webcam footage side-by-side with your character’s dialogue boxes, set to high-pitched meme music. The caption was just: "average [name] fan handling the release responsibly." The entire internet was laughing at him, but he didn't care about the memes at all. He was just reposting the edits on his own page because it meant his name was permanently attached to yours in the algorithm.
After the stream ended, his possessive behavior got ten times worse now that you were "real." he spent the next fourteen hours straight clearing your entire quest line, taking thousands of screenshots of every single facial expression your character made. He went into the game files to extract your clean voice lines, putting them on a loop so he could sleep to the sound of your character's voice.
Yandere!Gamer was completely detached from reality after that stream. The influx of new followers on his TikTok tried to join his Discord to talk about their gameplay meta, but he started banning people left and right for "talking about you too casually." To the rest of the world, he was just a funny, over-dedicated gamer who blew up for a viral reaction video. But to him, that live-stream was the day you finally woke up, and he was never going to let his chat or anyone else forget that you belonged to him first.
For every stereotype of the money hoarding, gem stealing dragons whispered in the dark there are good honest ones living normal lives with normal ass hoards of river rocks or paintings...
But not your boss.
He is a money grubbing, capital hungry, a true venture capitalist, wrapped in finery that costs more than most castles in the surrounding areas, and likes to clink coins together as an idle entertainment. He's everything you should hate in the world, from the silver chains that drip from his horns, the thin strings of gold that clip glasses in place as he sits reading contracts, the amethyst tipped horn caps that sit glinting on the twin curling black points that peak from the cascade of deep blue, black hair so finely cared for it should be illegal to consider touching.
And yet here you are, standing by his side as the local Lord tries his best to earn a loan from your boss, the bann has already signed many contracts and agreements that you're pretty sure he doesn't even own his own lands let alone his title anymore. Still, your boss nods, hums and flicks his wrist, manicured claws catching the light and rings glinting as he agrees to the loan, you already know the interest is going to be absurd and will ruin the bann but the greedy noble had only done it to himself.
You watched the noble go, chipper and content about the deal he thinks he had struck, shaking your head before looking over at your boss.
He's smiling, eyes in that familiar low squint he always has behind his spectacles, pushing his chair back and tapping his lap in a way you know well enough. Walking over you settle yourself onto his lap, letting the large dragonic hybrid curl around you, tail swaying behind him as he hooks his chin over your shoulder and purrs about how foolish the nobles of this place are.
For all that you should hate your boss for he does keep the lands running, taxes are fair to the wage brackets of the people that aren't noble, streets are paved, and water flows as it should under his gold tipped fingers. So you can't really bring yourself to truly despise him, especially as you had agreed long ago to be his mate, long before he amassed his riches and treasures, back when you were going and he only really cared for you and the joy of youth.
You sigh as he asks what you think of the bann and his little deal, half ignoring the words as he slips his hands under the formal clothes that he makes you wear for business, the slits of his eyes growing wide as he undose the placard of your pants, absently nodding along as he gets to what he really wants to touch. Soft fingers drift across your stomach and feather light scrapes of talons follow soon after, you could call him every name under the sun right now and he wouldn't care.
Shaking your head you lean back into his chest, sighing softly as you let him do as he pleases, calling him the same name you always did when he got like this after a deal.
TW: Light (just one) mention of gore, Rhyno is his own warning, this isn't proofread to its best and im not as literate as i think
Spoilers until the last (12th) episode of the anime!
Reader Backstory: Before their sentence, they worked as a researcher between the church and military, working on seals occasionally, but mainly more on blights and fairies. One day you come up with just the theory or possibility of blights or lords taking human form and think none of it. Until one day, your lab is raided, youre apprehended, youre sentenced for a crime you didn't commit. And the fact the real reason you were sentenced was because of a mere theory stings you more.
------------(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)------------
You're a fellow hero, sentenced for your research that has helped the army and church, but you come across the simple theory or thought of blights taking human form. You aren't even given the chance to confirm it before you're apprehended, framed of a crime you don't even bother to remember out of spite but it follows you nonetheless.
Now not only have you been sentenced to be a hero, but the seal you even helped to customize for a certain hero (Venetim btw) has been used against you through silencing you.
The time since the start of your sentence you don't even track, you out of all people know that there's no point in counting. Your hero unit is filled with people soo amoral you thought you'd only see them in a sort of nightmare or novel. Yet that hasn't stopped you from growing fond of them, even if they have high obsession over dragons, have more than sticky fingers, or in Rhyno's case, being a volunteer hero.
It isn't unusual for the unit to be split. Jayce, Neely, Rhyno, and you have been sent to a mission on the eastern front, much farther than usual from the other half of the unit.
To your liking or not though, Jayce and Neely flew ahead, you cant blame him though as you gotta admit there's something unsettling with Rhyno other than his sentiments. Well that leaves only you and Rhyno on your own journey to the front. The trip isn't the only inconvenience, a much minor one is how Rhyno just wont bother to stay silent with queries until you give him an answer.
"You see, i've seen soo many books on the last town we stood by, one caught my eye though as it had more illustrations than words……"
Maybe you shouldn't have your knowledge too known. But it was unavoidable if you wanted to contribute to the party without having to risk a limb or life.
"…but looking at a different illustration, the meaning of a seems different, for this sign here i don't even know how to call it.."
You try to tune him out, though being stripped of being able to converse of the topic you held passion and hard work for has you needing to compensate boredom with topics that aren't exactly your interest but align with it, such as math. So you give in.
"That's a basic algebra book, that 'a' can have different meanings, and most of those random lower case letters are variables."
"Ahhh, i see.."
To you it might've been basic, but you wont bother to omit that word at this point. You cant stop but be bitter when he repeatedly comes to you with calculus, trigonometry or whatever math problem that he comes across as it just reminds you of your inability to practice your research that you offered up to the people who punished you for it. Still, its all you can settle for eternity.
------------o(￣▽￣)ブtimeskip--------------
You haven't accepted that fact though, but you tolerate it, maybe being looked up upon or praised for your smarts softened you up, but you wont admit that.
This time you're on the way to the western front. Neely and Jayce go ahead as usual, and again you're left with him.
At least there's more funds allotted to transport now, especially with that heavy armor he somehow manages to lug around. Rhyno might've felt indebted to you as he pays for transport and more for you, other than of course when a book catches his eye. Speaking of, you're not really sure where he even gets the scrip or coins, but your non aching feet aren't feeling sorry soon.
Its night. The simple carriage rocks on the rough road as you try to lull yourself to sleep, but undoubtedly see some. A small group of faeries, you're sure to reach the front by morning but you really didn't want to have to deal with any problems before you even got there. Your partner is feeling the opposite though.
You writhe in your bedding and groan.
"Look _____! We must be near!"
"Unfortunately" as you pull your blanket over your head.
"have no doubt i will be quick!"
"Mmmhnm…" The carriage finally comes to a stop, Rhyno hops off, finally giving you peace to sleep. You don't really have to worry about being attacked, you've seen enough of how he can deal with blights even outside his armor.
You blink your eyes open, you feel the movement of the carriage and look out to see that morning would break soon. Something you couldn't ignore though is the fairie corpse that is tied and dragging to the end of the carriage. You look for the only possible culprit outside sitting in front of the carriage and you already know how this will play out. You pull the carriage covers aside and he turns back and meets your eyes.
"The body is near fully intact though.."
"It is, but no"
"We could get added merit with this as proof of fighting outside of orders!"
"Youve done that plenty, and they could take this as delay rather than anything positive"
"We could have the local townsfolk desecrate the body to let out their frustration!"
"No, and why bring one with half a torso in its mouth"
"B-"
"No."
"At least tell me why later?"
"Cut it off the wagon first."
"If you wish.." :(
That rejection might've been more for your sake than his, you out of all in the unit shouldn't been seen or do something to assume you're diving back to your research one way or another, but the damned man with you cant help but bring back "souvenirs" from battle.
Something noteworthy after all the time you've spent with him is how brief of time you taught him branches of math. Because to your surprise (jealousy?), he not only grasps the basics quick, but simply from that he builds solid foundations for topics you haven't even taught him yet. If only the same could be said for when you transitioned to being his ethics teacher somehow. Nonetheless, he still comes up to you for guidance, but mostly his pleas are requesting of praise or compliments. (He likes it from you best, especially since you give constructive criticism alongside it). Now as a consequence of tolerating him more than most of the team, he's as fan-girly or devoted to you the same way Jayce blindly admires Dotta.
Plus, it wouldn't be that truthful to say you didn't find it amusing, if not how cute it is at times with how he approaches you differently from the rest, still though it can get irritating, just less now.
The fight is almost close to end, the only problem is that Rhyno took a detour and went to a fight unauthorized, Jayce and Neely are busy at the other end, somehow you have to find Rhyno and get his ass back before shit hits the fan.
…
Its undeniable. You thought that the chance of 2 demon blights could've explained it but no. Demon blight v.s demon blight? No that cant be possible, that would be like going against their own nature. Yet- you know what the bigger question was though.
'Why does it look human? Why was it Rhyno?'
No, the reports all clearly said only one demon lord was present, the battle had confirmed it itself. No, he might've been infected before the battle, but if he was infected by the lord why does he have no signs of it? why then was he killing it? to fake a death?
he hasn't killed it yet though, he's torturing it. with a smile even, while laughing too. He speaks in the same righteous tone as he always does.
What the fuck are you even to do? You aren't like Xylo who could combat a demon lord 1 on 1, much less around 2 now even if one is groveling by the feet of the other. You hear every break, squelch of bone and flesh. You realize the best you can do is run, run while he seems too giddy being and doing something you thought only in theory, the same theory that got you sentenced even.
You cant tell anyone about this.
Literally.
…
You're stuck in a standstill where if you do utter a warning to someone, the seal on your neck goes off and you die, risking the loss of new found vital information on your "comrade", but if you don't then what? But also, even if you risked it and told someone, who's to say they wont be killed or set-up?
Your journey to meet the rest of the unit is silent, not only because of your lack of words but also because a certain person(?) has been locked in a cell for insubordination.
Good.(?) You think at least, the break between you two gives you time to think, and at least he's locked up. Not like locking him up like you would a human would work but well.
You arrive, hop off of Neely and thank her as you leave the stables.
Jayce goes to tend to Neely as states he'll be off to visit Xylo in the infirmary soon.
You bump into Venetim and Tsav, Venetim unfortunately starts the conversation on a topic you've dwelled to much on already.
"Ah! __! I'm pleased to see you in one piece, sad that our friend had to come in a cell but don't worry, a pardon will be issued soon enough"
"Yo __! I gotta fill you in on what happened while you were gone!"
"..- Ah, ofcourse ofcourse.."
Venetim, reading the room more than Tsav sees your unsettled state, but he assumes its only because of the battle you just had to endure.
"We can do all that later! I'm sure you haven't had a proper rest even on the journey back"
"Come on now Tsav!!!" He quickly grabs hold of the sniper and turns him to lead him some place else.
But as they walk away Venetim turns his head to you and adds.
"I'll trust on you to break him out once the pardons done!"
"W-wait no I'm sure I can help someway else I'm fin-"
"No no no, me and the others have rested plenty while waiting for you" The one time he lets you rest with a simple is when you wish he didn't.
"Wait-- Venetim!" Too late, they're far from earshot.
Xylo.
Xylo must have a thought of what to do.
You head to the infirmary and on the way to, you pass by Jayce and ask.
"Have you talked to Xylo yet?" You don't realize the slight change of tone in your voice.
"Huh? Not yet, they said that meathead is still asleep"
"Alright. Thank you!" You say as he walks away and waves you off.
You open the door, expecting to see him lying asleep first but a flaming blonde whip of hair catches your eye first. You look down and see something brought up but forgot in your worries.
"Hm?? Who are you?" She tries to come off cautious by the end, but its too late, you already sensed her genuine curiosity, it just reminds you about how he- fuck.
"Uh…" You just realized you left her hanging with no reply.
"Ah- I'm sorry, I'm _____, you surely must be the goddess spoken of most recently"
"Heh, soo my grandiose has reached far! I am the mighty goddess Teoritta!
"Mighty I'm sure you are" You don't catch your smile when you say it.
(insert happy happy fun times w Teoritta cuz she's adorable)
...
As you wait for the man to wake, you quickly catch up on the battle you were absent on by the accounts of the goddess herself.
Unfortunately your wait was in vain that day, well you guess you just had to go the following days then.
You're by the open door of the infirmary, Teoritta isn't there to greet but you catch a glimpse of her over the side of Xylo's bed in rest. You walk to approach and sit by but you realize steps behind you. You look back and its a man with long hair, glasses, and a smile you've learned to be wary of, accompanied with a girl.
You don't know what irks you, but you assume he knows it as he simply walks past you.
You soon remember this could never be as easy as you think.
Luckily through your encounter with Captain Kivia (im so sorry, if i wrote a meet-up scenario with her this fic would be long asf T-T), youve gained access to a study room.
Youve kept low these past days (to your best ability atleast), you plot away with Venetim and converse casually with the others, but the time you dreaded was reminded to you in a conversation with Venetim.
You don't mull over the words, its useless as you didn't convince him to have someone, anyone else do it, but out of all the goddamn days somehow only you were available to release him from his cell.
You think it over, out of all the people you need to play cool with, the top priority is him.
Who knows whatever he'll do once he knows that you know.
You're mind is preoccupied with thoughts you cant voice even if you wanted. You cant have the seal kill you, especially after finding information like this. You should be scared, you hear that Xylo begrudgingly asks Venetim to pardon him. Soo why aren't you scared of the fact? Other than that, why are you ever soo slightly, exhilarated?
No, this is more than a bad habit. Your survival instinct is at its less than normal when you should be fearing for more than your own life.
You walk to the way of his confinement, the key to the lock in hand, all the soldiers preoccupied with preparations that no one else is to witness anything that could happen.
Its fine, you'll be fine.
No the fucking hell you aren't, but you cant really admit that right now. More than thousands of thoughts has your head pounding that you don't realize you're in front of his cell now. But one thing is wrong.
No, something wrong within the wrong. Why in hell is your mind going through thoughts of theories and tests you'd test out on him.
Your thoughts are broken by a voice.
"i hope youve missed me as much as i've missed you"
You take all of what you can to just slip the key through the keyhole.
You don't need to look up to the opening of the door to know that he's inches close- if not pressed against the door. You cursed the times when the portable cell wasn't around and the hassle it was to unlock individual cuffs on his neck, arms, and legs, but now more than ever you wish those restrains were on him.
"have you been busy? not one visit since we came from the front, have i upset you?"
You don't answer, not with words at least as you finally twist the key, opening the lock.
More quicker than your arrival, you turn away from him and walk away, not wanting to turn back, your fear(?) overwhelming your sense to try and play it cool and casual.
But your legs betray you as you halt when he utters your name.
Again, you don't need to look at him to know his eyes are glaring onto you. And for the second time on instinct, you turn your head back to look at him. And instead of the bloody red eyes you were used to, you're met with a mosaic of blue, yellow, and red swirling in his irises. The small part of you wishing it was a hallucination dies under seconds.
Its undeniable, even more to you. Afterall, by searching into this, isn't this what you technically wanted in a way? proof that you were right?
He starts to take steps toward you, slow and steady. You shift your head back front and try to step forward but you sense him behind you before you do.
So why again is your mind running on scenarios of cutting through his flesh- dissecting him.
Still, fear plants you in place, slowly once again, he leans and hovers by your ear and he speaks.
"I hadn't hoped for it to come to this, but it was bound to happen sooner or later"
He pulls away, and now he starts to circle around you.
"from how much I've learnt and heard from and about you, Im surprised you hadn't realized sooner"
"…"
"but I'm admittedly pleased it took you longer than I expected"
If you weren't going to pass out of fear, you'd choke on air.
"I really hoped it somehow would've taken you longer" he stops pacing, now towering over in front of you as your gaze is fixed straight.
His hand moves towards you, you should dosomething,anything,noyoucant you cant die here, not yet. think, think think think
thinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthink
His hands gently meet the area under your chin and tilts your head up to his eyes.
"This look on your face, I don't know what it is soo I sure hope you can tell me"
But the answer to that, you don't know yourself, fear and the passion in pursuit of knowledge fight in your head.
"it-…-s….." you're lost in the flowing colors of his eyes
"Hmmmmmmmmmm….?" he tilts his head.
"…….."
"Ah of course, as you taught its rather rude to try and pry into others without opening up yourself"
"I just found the fact that you shouldn't do it literally not a acceptable way…"
"…………"
"Do I scare you? I know my real identity should, but worry not that your praises should be taken back- in fact, shouldn't you compliment me double now?"
"You humans to it soo casually, to kill you own kind, but by your own logic and words. What I do should be impossible, and thus commendable, is it not?"
His hands move to cup your face, now gently rubbing his thumb by your cheek.
"So if I were to tell you I murder my own kind not only of my own volition, but yo my pleasure, would it not please you in return?"
You finally muster a breath to only mutter a attempt at a reply.
"b…but it shouldn't be possible- it can-"
"but it is. but I am"
"N-no."
"A beautiful human such as yourself, you especially know this more than most to the point you're now punished for eternity by it"
"..I only hope now that you can be as curious on me as I am to you"
He starts lightly pressing more onto your cheeks, like a toy or doll.
"trust that the only screams of anguish I seek are that of blights"
"Oh, my apologies, I fear in the slur of the moment I forgot another fundamental of your teachings"
His hand ends contact with your face, instead he takes your hand in his as he leans lower to your level. Through his movement he states.
"I am demon lord, Puck Puca"
He cups your hand, and guides it. Your inner palm now meets his cheek as his hand presses yours into it gentle but deep. You might be delusional, but he does it with such tender reverence.
"..please"
"please- allow me to submit to you.."
Ok time to pack it up bro
This would've been expanded into chapters, but I'll just leave it at this for now, please tell me though if I should expand this, Im also open to suggestions. I'll definitely have other works on StbaH, and most of what I have lined up is on Rhyno so yeahhhh.
The said ideas I have include stuff like:
Scenario/Headcanons/Fanfic where Reader is a hero sentenced due to being a cannibal(???)
or where Reader is a holy knight but I dont really see much fluidity in that no offense,
or also just scenarios where Reader isn't really anything specific, theyre just in general a hero and Im just given a personality to write the Reader with or a trope.
I also put like a little writing easter egg with Rhyno's lines, I hope one of yall catch up on it
Synopsis: In the Henian era, you are a servant of Yorozu, secretly in love with her, but it seems you'll never have a chance since Sukuna arrived. However, with Sukuna, you do have a chance.
Tags: Sukuna top × Male reader bottom, brutal dominant sex, monstrous huge cock, massive creampie, deep savage pounding, nonstop relentless fucking, overstimulation, multiple rounds, porn with plot
The Heian Period, Gardens of the Yorozu Mansion
The evening air, cool and heavy, smelled of plum blossoms and freshly turned damp earth. You knelt on the weathered wooden bridge, pouring the doburoku into her earthenware cup. You had done it a thousand times, ever since you were a small child who could barely lift the jar. Your fingers, now steady, performed the ritual with a precision born of muscle memory, and also the subtle tremor of a heart that, over the years, had learned to fear and adore more than it should.
Yorozu took the vessel, her long, slender fingers—which you had imagined touching so many times—closing around the rustic ceramic. The last glow of the sun filtering through the pine branches framed her profile, illuminating the gold dust suspended in the humid air. She looked up at you, and her golden eyes, always so intense, held a flicker of feverish curiosity that seemed to devour the violet gloom of the garden.
—Tell me —her voice was melodious, but with that sharp tone it acquired when an idea possessed her—. Have you ever imagined the true form, the ultimate form of a being?
She paused, taking a sip, before continuing with growing passion. A crimson maple leaf drifted down softly and settled in the fold of her kimono.
—I don't mean the empty beauty of courtiers. I speak of something superior. Something monumental. —Her expression became distant, ecstatic, as if she were seeing a vision beyond the ponds and mosses—. Imagine… four eyes that see all layers of existence. Four arms capable of holding up the sky or shattering continents. A stature that makes mountains look like hills, with divine marks, tattoos of power, traversing invincible skin. —A slow, almost voluptuous smile spread across her lips—. And a smile… a smile that promises no clemency nor love, only the sublime and pure truth of strength. That would be a complete being. A god who does not ask for worship, but demands it by its mere presence.
Her words, laden with fervor, froze your blood as the evening wind gently stirred the loose hairs at the nape of your neck. You were watching her build an idol in her mind, and in the hollow of your chest, that place where you kept her unspoken name, something silently cracked.
—My lady —you murmured, your tone a soft warning, filled with concern—. Such a being… would have no room for something like love. It would be like loving a natural disaster.
She laughed, a sound as clear as the water from the stream winding nearby, but it did not reach her obsessed eyes.
—Love? Love for such perfection would not be comforting, no. —Her voice dropped to a confidential, ardent whisper as the first fireflies began to ignite among the grass—. It would be like embracing the very core of a forge. It would hurt. It would reduce you to ashes. But, oh… what glory, what a brighter and truer end it would be.
You really don't know if Yorozu will ever realize that you're a servant who really likes her and would do anything to be with her.
Days later, the roar announced his arrival. And when you saw him, you understood that Yorozu's fantasy had fallen short. Sukuna, in his true form, was more terrifying and magnificent than any description. The dark skin, the markings, the four scarlet eyes scrutinizing the world with absolute boredom. He was a monument to destruction, and Yorozu looked at him as if she had found her religion.
—It's him… —her voice was a gasp, trembling with an emotion bordering on ecstasy—. He's even more perfect than I dreamed.
Yorozu's obsession only grew, feeding a one-sided fantasy. The climactic moment came under the full moon. Full of delirious happiness, with tears of pure emotion streaming down her cheeks, Yorozu spread her arms and ran towards him.
—Sukuna! —she cried, her voice broken by devotion—. Please! Just let me stay by your side! Let me embrace the truth of your existence!
Sukuna didn't even blink. His face remained in a grimace of pure contempt.
—Pathetic —he scoffed, his voice so cold it seemed to lower the temperature of the clearing.
A barely perceptible flash, a subtle movement of one of his fingers. His cutting technique, "Dismantle," hissed through the air. It was not a final blow, but one calculated for cruelty: a deep, long cut from Yorozu's shoulder to her hip, designed for a slow agony and a certain death by blood loss.
She collapsed without a scream, only with an expression of absolute confusion, like a child who has had their most precious treasure ripped away. Her eyes, once bright, clouded with disbelief.
Something inside you, something you had been holding back for years, shattered.
The sight of her, the girl with the eccentric smile and creative hands, lying shattered on the ground, erased all rational thought.
A guttural roar, more animal than human, erupted from your throat. It was not a cry of heroic defiance; it was the sound of unbearable pain.
You grabbed a stone from the ground and, with all your useless, human strength, hurled it at Sukuna.
—MONSTER! —you bellowed, your voice distorted by rage and tears—. DESPICABLE DISGRACE! SHE ONLY… SHE ONLY ADORED YOU!
The stone shattered against his immutable back. But the impact, or rather the act itself, achieved the impossible. Sukuna turned. Slowly.
His four eyes opened slightly, not with anger, but with a genuine and profound surprise.
His eyebrows, on his upper face, arched a fraction.
He had seen terror, adulation, defiance from warriors. But never this pure, desperate hatred, this absolute contempt for death, coming from someone without a trace of cursed energy.
There was no fear in you. There was only a furious devotion to what he had just shattered.
He ignored you completely. You ran to Yorozu, collapsing beside her on the muddy ground. Your hands, trembling, pressed your jacket hard against the catastrophic wound, trying to stem the torrent of life escaping her.
—Don't… don't… provoke him… —Yorozu managed to articulate with a thread of a voice, her glazed eyes still seeking Sukuna's figure—. He is… perfection…
—Shut up! —you ordered her, with a firmness born of panic. Your tone was not that of a servant; it was that of a man giving an order to death—. Hold on. Don't you dare leave.
It was then that Uraume materialized at his side, their face serene and inexpressive like a mask of snow.
—Lord Sukuna —said Uraume in a soft, icy voice—. This irreverence is intolerable. Shall I eliminate them? I can turn their last moments into a picture of eternal frost.
Sukuna did not look at Uraume.
His attention remained fixed on you, on the scene of desperation you represented. A slow smile, not of disdain, but of calculating interest, played on his lips.
—No —Sukuna declared, his voice a thoughtful rumble—. The girl has proven to be a persistent insect. And this servant… has a curious tenacity.
His gaze, heavy as lead, settled on the bleeding figure of Yorozu.
—Uraume. Heal her. Ensure she survives.
—My lord? —asked Uraume, for once, with a barely perceptible hint of confusion.
—Have you stopped hearing? —Sukuna asked, his tone turning dangerously flat.
—No, my lord. At once.
Uraume approached with silent steps. An intense cold emanated from their hands as they bent over Yorozu. You, instinctively, moved to block them.
—Get away from her!
—Do not interfere, worm —Uraume murmured without looking at you, and a layer of frost instantly covered the ground around you, immobilizing your feet—. It is a direct order from Sukuna-sama.
You watched, your heart in your throat, as the air around Yorozu's wound condensed into a fine ice, sealing the brutal cut and stopping the hemorrhage instantly.
Her breathing, which had become a mere whisper, stabilized into a slow, cold rhythm, as if the life in her had been put on pause.
Sukuna observed the procedure with his arms crossed, a bored but satisfied spectator.
—Good —he said, when Uraume finished and stepped back—. Now, listen carefully, servant. —He gestured with a casual flick of one of his lower hands toward the mansion dominating the hill—. We will live here. I, and my retinue. This will be my residence… for the time being.
Horror mingled with your fury.
—No! —you shouted, finding your voice again—. This is Lady Yorozu's palace! It is not yours to take!
A deathly silence fell over the clearing. Sukuna merely arched an eyebrow, amused by the outburst. It was Uraume who spoke, their voice now an edge of sharp ice.
—Silence, creature —they said, and the temperature dropped drastically—. The next word of defiance from your lips will be your last. Your life, and your lady's, hang by a thread that Sukuna-sama, in his whim, has decided not to cut yet. Do not tempt him.
The threat was tangible, a cold that seeped into your bones.
You looked at Yorozu, pale and cold like a porcelain figure, but alive. Then you looked at Sukuna, whose smile was now wide and challenging.
He had wounded, he had ordered the healing, and now he was claiming what wasn't his, all on a whim born from your own defiance.
—Serve well —Sukuna said, turning on his heel and beginning to walk towards the mansion with the assurance of a conqueror—. Your loyalty now has two masters. One who sleeps… and one who never does. Let's see which one survives your devotion.
And you were left there, immobilized by Uraume's ice, with the weight of an unbearable future on your shoulders.
The peace of the Yorozu mansion was over. Now, the King of Curses and his retinue were moving in to occupy it, and your dying love and your duty had become prisoners in a game whose rules only Sukuna understood.
The ice on your feet melted as quickly as it had appeared, leaving you free but with a feeling of mortal weight in your chest. You carefully lifted Yorozu, whose body was cold and rigid like porcelain.
You carried her back to the mansion, whose once-familiar halls now echoed with a foreign and oppressive presence.
The main room, formerly Yorozu's study, had been claimed by Sukuna. You found him reclining on the silk cushions, his four arms brazenly outstretched, contemplating with disdain the mechanical artifacts and metal insects hanging from the ceiling.
—Put your mistress in her room —he ordered without looking at you, his voice an echo in the spacious room—. Then return. The palace is filthy. Make it suitable for a king.
—My duty is to attend to Lady Yorozu —you replied, trying to keep your voice firm.
One of Sukuna's lower eyes settled on you. There was no threat, only the crushing weight of his expectation.
—Your duty now is whatever I say it is. Or would you prefer Uraume finish what they started with her?
The silence that followed was your surrender.
You took Yorozu to her quarters, carefully placing her on her bed. Her breathing was still that slow, unnatural rhythm, but stable. You wiped the dried blood from her face, and for the first time in ten years, there was no response in her closed eyes, no murmur about her projects, no eccentric smile.
In the days that followed, the mansion transformed into a gilded cage.
Sukuna gave capricious orders: he wanted the private hot springs remade to his liking, he demanded elaborate meals that he then scorned, and watched with perverse interest as you struggled to attend to him while caring for Yorozu.
One afternoon, as you changed Yorozu's bandages—the wound sealed by Uraume's ice had left a silver, cold-to-the-touch scar—Sukuna appeared in the doorway.
—She's waking up —he declared, as if commenting on the weather—. Your beloved mistress. Her consciousness is returning. Poor insect. She will awake to a world where her god lives in her house and her servant… —his eyes scanned your tired figure— serves two masters.
A week later, Sukuna found you in the gardens at dawn, where you were gathering medicinal herbs for Yorozu's persistent pain. The morning mist enveloped his monumental figure, making him seem like a nightmare risen from the fog.
—She's getting louder every day —he commented, watching as your hands carefully selected leaves—. More insistent in her devotion. Like a moth that doesn't understand the flame will consume it.
Your knuckles whitened around the herbs. The mention of Yorozu, coupled with his mocking tone, ignited something deep within you.
—She was brilliant before you came —you murmured, unable to contain the venom in your voice—. Eccentric, yes. Obsessive, perhaps. But there was light in her, not this… this blind fever. You broke her and now you revel in watching her try to piece herself back together.
Sukuna laughed, a low sound that seemed to vibrate in the very earth beneath your feet.
—And you, little gardener? Are you broken too? —He took a step forward, his shadow covering you completely—. You threw a stone at the King of Curses. An act of defiance as pathetic as it was brave. But look where you are now: kneeling in the grass, serving the same monster, shooting murderous looks when you think I don't see. Your eyes have condemned me a thousand times since I arrived.
You stood up to face him, the herbs falling from your basket.
—I love her —the declaration left your lips as a challenge, raw and bare.
Sukuna leaned forward, his four eyes gleaming with malicious interest.
—I know. It's the only thing that makes this situation somewhat interesting. Your love for her… and that white-hot hatred you burn for me. Two sides of the same weak, predictable human coin. —His smile widened—. But tell me this, faithful servant: when she asks you, with those golden eyes full of madness, to help her build another abomination to impress me, will you do it? Will you help the woman you love draw closer to the monster you despise? Will you oil the hinges of her own damnation?
The air caught in your throat.
You had no answer because that question had already taken root in your sleepless nights, a gnawing worm in your conscience.
—I see you will —Sukuna concluded, satisfied—. Because in the end, your love is as servile as your position. You will obey. As you always have.
The next day, Sukuna summoned both of you to the main hall. Yorozu, still pale but with a renewed nervous energy, clung to your arm to stay upright.
Her eyes did not see you; they were fixed on Sukuna with an adoration that made you feel physically ill.
—I'm bored of this passivity —Sukuna announced from his elevated position, where he had had an improvised throne installed—. Your obsession, woman, is like a mosquito buzzing in my ear. Annoying, but persistently alive.
Yorozu held her breath, her grip on your arm tightening.
—So I propose a game —continued Sukuna, his gaze alternating between her and you—. Build something. Anything with those mad engineer's hands. If it entertains me enough, if it captures my attention for more than a moment… I'll give you a prize.
—A… prize? —asked Yorozu, her voice trembling with hope.
—A night —said Sukuna, the words falling like blades—. A night of my… complete attention. You shall have what you have so desperately yearned for since you saw me. My time. My presence. Everything a devotee could desire from her… god.
The meaning behind those words was not subtle. Yorozu's face flushed a deep red, her lips parting in an audible gasp. You felt as if the floor had given way beneath your feet.
—No —you managed to say, the word coming out as a hoarse whisper.
—Yes! —exclaimed Yorozu at the same time, letting go of your arm—. I'll do it! I'll create the ultimate masterpiece! Something worthy of you!
—And you —Sukuna pointed at you with a finger, his gaze laden with malice— will help her. You will be her hands when hers fail. Her eyes when exhaustion overcomes her. I want to see how the servant splits his soul. Your duty to help her against your desire to protect her from me. That contradiction… will fuel my amusement.
—Please, my lady —you turned to Yorozu, ignoring Sukuna—. This isn't… he's mocking you. Mocking us.
But she was no longer listening to you. Her eyes shone with fanatical determination.
—I'll need the workshop in the east wing. And the metals from the storeroom. And you… —she took your hands, her cold fingers squeezing yours— you must help me. Like you always have. This is our chance. Our only chance.
The project began that same afternoon. Yorozu, consumed by a creative fever that made her seem almost healthy, sketched frantic blueprints.
She spoke of "capturing the essence of sublime destruction," of "a mechanism that reflects Sukuna's glory."
You worked by her side, but every hammer strike, every weld, every mechanical adjustment felt like a betrayal of your own heart. Because you were helping to build the bridge that would lead her straight into Sukuna's arms.
One night, as you were soldering a particularly complex piece by moonlight, Sukuna appeared silently at your side, watching your work with his arms crossed.
—Jealousy is a color that suits you, human —he commented, his voice low in the night's quiet—. Green and black, like old poison. It seeps into every movement, into every held breath when she speaks my name.
You didn't respond, focusing on the solder with an intensity that made your hands shake.
—It hurts, doesn't it? —he persisted—. Knowing that every screw you tighten, every gear you align, brings her one step closer to the reward she so craves. A reward you have silently desired for a decade.
The solder twisted under your trembling hand, ruining the piece.
—Enough! —you shouted, throwing the tool against the wall with a metallic clatter—. What do you gain from this? What satisfaction do you find in torturing two people who never harmed you?
Sukuna seemed genuinely thoughtful for a moment.
—The same satisfaction a child finds watching an anthill —he finally replied—. The frenetic movement, the absurd dedication to insignificant tasks, the blind devotion to a queen that leads them to destruction. It's… entertaining. And you, servant, are the most interesting ant in the pile. Because you know the fire is coming, and yet you keep building.
He moved closer, his cursed energy making the air vibrate.
—When the night of her prize arrives —he whispered, and each word was a knife—, I will ensure you have a front-row seat. I want you to see the fulfillment of her devotion. I want to see the last intact thing in you break.
—Every gear you manufacture —Sukuna continued, walking around the construction site.— It's another nail in the coffin of your hopes. And yet, you continue. Because she asks you to. Because your "love" is as servile as your position.
You stood up abruptly, facing those four mocking eyes.
—What do you know about love? You only know possession and destruction.
Sukuna smiled, an expression that did not reach his cold eyes.
—I know her shadow. Love is just another form of possession, a weaker one. You desire to possess her attention, her affection.. She desires to possess my… interest. We are all the same, only I have the honesty not to disguise it with poetry.
—We are nothing alike —You spat out the words.
—¿No? —leaned towards you—. They both look at what they can't have. The difference is that I could take it if I wanted to. I could break it in my hands and you could just watch. Like you're doing now.
The truth of his words hit you with physical force. You took a step back, anger mingling with deep shame.
The creation took shape: a metallic structure that moved with fluid joints, imitating Sukuna's four arms, with red crystal eyes that seemed to follow you around the workshop.
Yorozu called it "The Offering," and every time she uttered that name with reverence, you felt a sharp pain in your chest.
One afternoon, while adjusting a rotation mechanism, Yorozu placed her hand over yours.
—It's turning out perfect —she whispered, her eyes shining with a light that was no longer for you—. He'll see it. He'll understand. This work… contains everything I feel.
Your fingers tensed beneath hers.
You wanted to scream that this work also contained your tears and your despair, that every screw was stained with your silent agony. But you only nodded.
—Yes, my lady. It's… impressive.
She smiled, and for a moment, it was the smile you remembered from years ago, before Sukuna entered your lives.
—Thank you. For everything. For being here, even when…
She didn't finish the sentence. It wasn't necessary. You both knew what went unsaid: "even when I'm destroying you."
On the eve of the presentation, you couldn't sleep.
You wandered the empty hallways until you reached the workshop.
The full moon illuminated the finished creation, giving it a spectral and sinister beauty.
You weren't alone.
Sukuna was there, standing before the work, studying it with an inscrutable expression.
—Come to admire the instrument of your own torture —he said without turning—. Poetic.
—Will you destroy it tomorrow? —you asked, not knowing why it mattered.
—Destroy it? —Sukuna turned, his smile wide and dangerous—. Of course not. I'll acknowledge its merit. I'll give her exactly what I promised. —A calculated pause—. And you'll be there. Standing in the shadows, as always. Watching as she receives her "prize.
The jealousy, which you had kept at bay with superhuman effort, burst forth like a fever.
—Why? —your voice trembled with contained rage—. What do you gain from this? From humiliating me? From destroying her?
Sukuna approached, and for the first time, there was no mockery in his eyes, only an intense, ruthless curiosity.
—Because it's interesting —he said simply—. Because in a thousand years, I've never seen a love so… useless. So devoted. So pathetically human. —His hand rose, and for a moment you thought he would kill you—. She'll approach me thinking she's reaching heaven. And you'll watch, knowing it's her perdition. That moment, that fracture in your soul… I want to see it up close.
Sukuna stopped just one step away from you, so close that the air between you felt thick with cursed electricity. His smile was slow, almost tender, but his words sliced like razors.
—not tonight —he said, as if granting you a mercy he knew was a lie—. Not tonight… but the night I hand her that precious finished creation of hers.
He paused, letting the image sink into your mind without mercy.
—When Yorozu comes to claim her ‘prize,’ when she believes she’s finally reached the paradise she’s dreamed of for so long… that night I’m going to fuck her.
He looked straight into your eyes, savoring the way your face slowly cracked.
—I’ll lay her down on the very table where you helped her perfect every detail of that masterpiece. I’ll rip off that ridiculous outfit she wears to impress me, spread her legs, and slide into her slowly… so she feels every inch, so she writhes begging me for more. Then I’ll thrust harder, relentlessly, until she’s screaming my name over and over, until she forgets you ever existed.
His voice dropped lower, more intimate, like he was sharing an obscene secret.
—and you… you’re going to imagine every second of it. Because you won’t be able to stop yourself. Every time you close your eyes, you’ll see her under me, arching, sweating, pleading. You’ll hear her moans echoing inside your skull. You’ll feel your chest burn knowing she’s giving herself completely… while you’re left watching from the shadows like the pathetic loser you are.
He leaned in closer, his breath brushing your ear.
—and the funniest part… —he whispered with a dark chuckle— is that I’ve never once had a wet dream about her. Not a single one. She’s never even made me hard just by thinking about her. But you… oh, you have. You’ve dreamed about her, haven’t you? You’ve woken up rock-hard, sweating, her name on your lips, my face in your mind while you jerked off thinking about what you’ll never have. And now, when I finally take her, when I make her mine for real… those wet dreams of yours are going to turn into nightmares. Because what I do to her that night will be a thousand times more real, dirtier, more intense than anything your pathetic imagination could ever invent.
He held your gaze, drinking in every fracture opening in your soul.
—How does it feel? —he asked with calm cruelty—. Knowing that the night I deliver her masterpiece, Yorozu is going to be moaning under me… while you’re left with nothing but the memories of your wet dreams and the certainty that it will never, ever be you touching her like that.
Sukuna watched you in silence, like a predator already certain the prey has nowhere left to run.
Your words came out trembling, forced, as though saying them tore pieces from your soul:
—It doesn’t matter… —you said, voice cracking halfway—. It doesn’t matter what he does to her… as long as my lady is happy. If that night makes her smile, if it makes her feel alive… then let him have her. Let him take her. I… I can endure it.
The words scorched your throat. You told yourself it was noble, that it was true love—but deep down you knew it was just another lie you fed yourself to keep from collapsing right there.
Sukuna let out a slow, low laugh that crawled across your skin like claws.
He took one step closer, invading your space until his presence felt like physical pressure crushing your ribs.
—Endure it? —he repeated, mocking, almost amused—. How sweet. How heroic. You’re ready to lie awake all night picturing me splitting her open on that table, making her scream my name while you twist alone in the dark… and all because ‘it makes her happy’? —He tilted his head, studying you like a fascinating specimen—. You’re even more pathetic than I thought. A martyr who gets off on his own misery.
The blow landed straight in your chest. Jealousy, rage, and shame twisted into a knot that stole your breath. You wanted to scream at him to shut up, to tell him it wasn’t true… but part of you knew he was right. And that was what hurt the most.
You couldn’t hold it back anymore. The words burst out in a choked, desperate, humiliating plea:
—I’ll do anything —you begged, voice shattered, tears burning your eyes—. Anything, Sukuna. Please… don’t give her that night. Don’t touch her. Don’t make her yours. I’m begging you… I’ll do whatever you want. Anything.
Sukuna cocked his head, genuinely intrigued for a fleeting second. Then his mouth curved into a smile that froze your blood.
—Very well —he said with lethal calm—. If you insist so much… instead of fucking Yorozu that night… I’ll fuck someone else.
Relief crashed over you like a wave—mixed with confusion and a sick, twisted hope. You clung to it like a drowning man to rotting driftwood.
—Really? —you asked, voice shaking, almost childlike—. Then… yes? Tell me what you want. Do you want me to bring you a woman from the village? I can get you the most beautiful one, the most obedient, the one who looks most like her if that’s what pleases you. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just tell me what kind you prefer, how you want her… and I’ll—
Sukuna exploded into deep, cruel laughter that echoed through the empty workshop like thunder. He doubled over slightly, as if your stupidity were the funniest thing he’d seen in centuries.
—How can you be so fucking stupid? —he said between laughs, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye—. So naive? So blind? So miserably in love with your own humiliation?
He straightened and fixed all four eyes on you, drilling straight through to the back of your skull.
—I’m not talking about some random bitch from the village, you idiot —he whispered, leaning in until his breath grazed your lips—. I’m talking about you.
The world stopped.
—That night —he continued, voice slow, sadistic, savoring every syllable—, when I hand Yorozu her precious masterpiece and she comes all starry-eyed thinking she’s finally going to be mine… it’s going to be you naked and trembling on that table. You’ll be the one spreading your legs for me. You’ll be the one screaming, crying, begging me not to stop while I split you in half. And Yorozu… —his smile twisted into pure, vicious delight— Yorozu will be watching from the shadows. She’ll see me fuck you until there’s nothing left of your dignity. She’ll see me break you… and she’ll understand she was never the prize. She was just the bait.
You stood frozen. Your stomach churned. Nausea rose in your throat. Heat flooded your cheeks. And—god help you—a traitorous, shameful hardness throbbed between your legs, making you hate yourself even more. You wanted to hit him, to run, to drop to your knees and beg him not to do it… and at the same time a sick, rotten part of you was already picturing it, already feeling the terror and the twisted thrill twisting together.
Sukuna gripped your chin with two fingers, forcing your eyes to his.
—How does it feel now? —he asked with murderous calm—. To realize your ‘sacrifice’ saved no one. It only damned you. To know that night won’t be her screaming my name… it’ll be you. And the worst part— —he leaned until his lips nearly brushed your ear— is that part of you is already aching for it. You’re already hard just thinking about it. You’re already broken… and I haven’t even started.
He released you with contempt and stepped back, watching you crumble in silence.
—Decide fast —he said with an icy smile—. Because one way or another… that night someone’s going to end up screaming under me. And the harder you fight what you already feel… the sweeter it’s going to be to watch you fall.
Your voice came out broken, barely a trembling whisper:
—No… you can’t do this to me. If you touch me… I won’t be able to look at her the same way. Everything I feel for her will shatter. I won’t be able to keep loving her like before. I’d rather die than become your… your thing.
Sukuna looked at you with a mix of boredom and dark amusement. He let the silence crush you for a moment, letting your own words echo in your head like a useless confession.
Then he let out a low, almost affectionate laugh.
—Die first? —he repeated slowly—. How dramatic. You keep talking as if your suffering actually protects her from anything. As if your “no” is some kind of shield. —He took another step closer, invading your space until his presence felt like physical weight—. But you’re already broken, little idiot. The only thing left is deciding how much longer you’re going to drag this out.
—No… —you shook your head, tears burning your eyes—. I won’t let you use me. I won’t let you turn me into that. Even if you kill me… even if you break me… I’m not going to say yes.
Sukuna tilted his head, studying you like a fascinating insect still wriggling.
—Think carefully —he said in a slow, venomous voice—. If you accept… if that night you give yourself up without any more fighting, if you spread your legs and let me fuck you until there’s nothing left of you… then I’ll do something for you.
You froze, your heart pounding in your ears.
—What… what do you mean?
He smiled with pure malice.
—I’ll give Yorozu a direct order. —He paused, letting the promise hang in the air—. I’ll tell her that the same night, after I’m done with you, she has to have her night of passion… with you. I’ll command her to sleep with you. To kiss you, touch you, spread her legs for you and let you inside her. To pretend—or maybe not pretend—that she desires you. To give you everything you’ve secretly dreamed of for years.
The world spun. You felt nausea, heat, a knot in your stomach mixing with a sick excitement you couldn’t control.
—Really…? —you whispered, voice shaking with disbelief and broken hope.
Sukuna leaned in until his breath brushed your ear.
—Word for word. I’ll make her do it. I’ll make her moan your name if I have to. You’ll get to have her… even if it’s by my command. Even if you know she’s only doing it because I ordered her to. Even if you know deep down she’s still thinking of me. —His smile widened—. But for that… you have to let me have you first. You have to let me break you in front of her. You have to be my whore that night… so that afterwards she can be yours.
He stared straight at you, savoring every crack opening in your soul.
—So what do you choose? —he asked with lethal calm—. Do you give in and get your night with her… even if it’s tainted, even if it’s fake, even if you know it will never be real? Or do you keep saying “no” and condemn her to nothing… and yourself to being left alone with your wet dreams and your hand?
Your legs trembled. The image of Yorozu on top of you, obeying his command, pierced you like lightning. You wanted to scream no, never, that you’d rather she never touched you than get it this way… but the idea of having her—even out of pity, even out of cruelty—was tearing you apart.
Sukuna just waited, with that smile that promised you’d lose either way.
—Decide —he whispered—. Because once it starts… there’s no going back.
The silence became unbearable. Your legs were shaking so badly you could barely stand. The image Sukuna had just painted—Yorozu obeying him, Yorozu touching you, Yorozu on top of you even if only by his command—had completely shattered you. It was a poisoned victory, humiliation disguised as a prize, and yet… and yet it was the closest you were ever going to get to having her.
Your chest burned with rage, shame, and sick desire. You couldn’t keep fighting. You couldn’t keep saying no when every “no” pushed her further away.
Then, with your voice broken by fury and held-back sobs, you spat the words like poison:
—Fine… —you said, clenching your fists until your nails dug into your palms—. I accept. Do whatever you want with me. Break me. Fuck me that night. But keep your word. Give her the order. Make her… make her have me afterwards. Make her touch me. Make her let me… —Your voice cracked in an angry sob—. Do it, damn it!
You spun around sharply, taking a step toward the workshop door, as if you could escape what you had just agreed to. As if the mere movement could erase the words that had just left your mouth.
Sukuna let out a low, dark laugh that stopped you dead in your tracks.
—Where do you think you’re going? —he asked with lethal calm, not moving from his spot.
You didn’t answer. You just took another trembling step.
In a blink he was in front of you. He grabbed the back of your neck with a four-fingered hand and shoved you backward with a force that allowed no resistance. Your back slammed against the edge of the worktable—the same table where Yorozu had built her masterpiece—and before you could react, Sukuna lifted you by the waist as if you weighed nothing and sat you down on the cold wooden surface.
—We’re going to practice a little tonight —he said, his voice low and dangerous, almost amused—. I don’t want you so tense when the real night comes that you bore me.
You tried to push him away, but his other two hands were already pinning your wrists to the table. With the fourth hand, without any ceremony, he hooked the waistband of your pants and yanked them down violently to mid-thigh. The cold air of the workshop hit your exposed skin. You felt the flush rise to your ears, the humiliation burning you alive.
—No… wait… —you murmured, but your voice had no strength left. It was just a pathetic echo.
Sukuna didn’t wait.
One of his large, rough hands slid between your legs. His fingers found your entrance without mercy, brushing the tight ring of your anus with deliberate slowness that made you arch your back against your will. He pressed right in the center, not entering yet, just exploring, feeling how your body clenched involuntarily under his touch.
—Relax —he whispered against your ear, his hot breath contrasting with the cold of the table—. If you stay rigid, it’s only going to hurt more… and I want you to feel everything. I want you to remember exactly how it feels when I open you up when the real night comes.
His fingers began to trace slow circles around your entrance, pressing a little deeper each time, opening you just barely, testing your resistance. You felt how your body betrayed you again: heat rising through your belly, your cock hard against your stomach, uncontrollable trembling in your thighs.
You tried to close your legs on instinct, but he forced them apart easily, keeping them spread with his knees.
—Look at you —he said with a dark laugh—. You’re already leaking just from this. And you still want to pretend you don’t want it.
One finger sank in up to the first knuckle. The stretch tore a muffled moan from you that you couldn’t hold back. Pain and something darker, something that made you hate yourself even more, mixed inside you.
Sukuna leaned over you, all four eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure.
—That’s just practice —he murmured—. Tomorrow… tomorrow you’ll be much more open. And Yorozu is going to see every second. And afterwards… afterwards she’s going to touch you. Just like I order her to.
Another finger joined the first, pushing deeper, curling inside you until it brushed that spot that made you gasp and arch against the table.
—Tell me —he whispered, moving slowly, torturing you with every inch—. Do you still want to leave?
You couldn’t answer. You only moaned, head thrown back, tears sliding down your temples as your body surrendered little by little to what your mind was still trying to deny.
Sukuna just smiled.
—Good boy —he said, and kept moving.
Sukuna kept his fingers buried inside you, still for a moment, letting you feel every inch of his merciless invasion. Then, with deliberate slowness, he started moving them again: a gentle back-and-forth at first, barely brushing the inner walls, exploring every sensitive spot with a precision that made you clench your teeth. Each time his knuckles grazed that deep, swollen point inside you, a lightning bolt of pleasure shot up your spine, forcing your back to arch against the cold wood of the table.
He leaned closer, his hot breath against your neck as he watched every reaction on your face: eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched, tears still sliding down your temples, the way your hips twitched—just barely—chasing more even though your mind screamed the opposite.
—Do you like it? —he asked again, voice low and laced with soft mockery—. Don’t lie to me. Your body’s already speaking for you. Look how you clench around my fingers. Look how you’re dripping. Tell me… do you like me fucking you like this with my hand?
The heat in your lower belly was unbearable. Your cock ached against your stomach, leaking pre-cum that smeared across your skin with every involuntary roll of your hips. You could feel your entrance softening little by little around his fingers, relaxing against your will, your body adapting to him as if it had been waiting for this all along.
You bit your lip until it bled. Shame burned your face, your chest, your entire body. Finally, with your voice broken and full of rage at yourself, you managed to spit:
—No… —The word came out trembling but firm—. No, I don’t like it. No. I don’t like any of it. I don’t want this. I don’t want to feel it. Take your fingers out… please… don’t do this to me.
Sukuna let out a dark, deep laugh that vibrated against your skin.
—No? —he repeated, almost amused—. What a terrible liar you are.
Without warning, he curled his fingers harder, pressing directly against that sensitive bulge inside you. The pleasure hit you like a punch: a high, sharp moan escaped you uncontrollably, your back arched violently, your thighs shook and spread even wider on instinct. Your cock jerked, spilling more fluid that dripped onto your stomach and ran down your sides.
—Your mouth says “no” —Sukuna murmured, now moving his fingers in slow, deep circles, massaging that spot without mercy—, but your body screams “more”. Look how you open up for me. Look how your ass swallows my fingers like it’s been waiting for them your whole life.
He added a third finger, stretching you further; the initial burn mixed with a pleasure so intense it blurred your vision. He began pumping them in and out at a steady rhythm—not too fast, but deep enough that every thrust grazed that place that made you gasp and writhe. The wet, obscene sound of his fingers moving inside you filled the silent workshop, blending with your ragged breaths and the moans you could no longer fully suppress.
You tried to close your legs again, but he kept them spread easily, his knees like iron against your thighs.
—No… no… stop… —you begged between gasps, head thrown back, tears falling without control—. I don’t like it… I swear I don’t… take them out… I don’t want to come like this… I don’t want to come for you…
Sukuna leaned down until his lips brushed your ear.
—You’re a terrible liar —he whispered—. You’re about to come just from my fingers. Without touching your cock. Without kissing you. Just from this. —He sped up slightly, curling his fingers harder on every pull—. Admit it. Tell the truth just once. Do you like it or not?
Your body no longer obeyed you. Your hips moved on their own, chasing his fingers; the pleasure built like a wave you couldn’t stop. You felt your entrance clenching around him, the orgasm rushing forward without mercy, your whole body tensing at the edge of the abyss.
—No… —you moaned one last time, voice shattering into a sob—. No… I don’t like it… I don’t accept it…
But right as you said it, your body betrayed you completely: a violent spasm ripped through you, your cock pulsed untouched and you started to come in hot spurts that splattered your stomach, your chest, even part of your chin. The orgasm was so intense it left you shaking, gasping, vision blurred and heart pounding like a drum in your ears.
Sukuna slowly withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty and convulsing on the table. He looked down at you with a satisfied, cruel smile.
—How pretty —he said softly—. You came while saying you didn’t like it. How pathetic. How honest.
He dragged a finger coated in your cum across your lower lip, forcing you to taste it.
—Tomorrow —he whispered— you’re going to come like that in front of her. And you’re still going to keep saying “no”… while your body screams “yes”.
He left you there sprawled on the table, panting, pants still pulled down, body trembling from the aftershocks of the orgasm and absolute humiliation.
Sukuna crossed his arms and waited, knowing you weren’t going to move. Not yet.
You stayed sprawled on the table for a while longer, your chest rising and falling hard, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of the orgasm you hadn’t wanted but had come anyway. The cum cooled on your skin, sticky and cold, reminding you every second of what had just happened. Your pants were still pulled halfway up, legs limp, breath ragged.
Sukuna was already gone.
At some point, while you were lost in shock and gasping, he had left without another word. No final cruel taunt, no last mockery. Just the echo of his footsteps fading down the hallway and then… silence. A heavy, absolute silence that left you alone with your own breathing and the smell of sex and shame hanging in the air.
Slowly, with clumsy and aching movements, you sat up. You pulled your pants back up as best you could, hands shaking so badly you could barely button them. You leaned on the edge of the table—the same table that tomorrow would witness everything—and lowered your head, hair plastered to your forehead with sweat.
Then, in a low voice, almost a murmur to yourself, you broke the silence:
—It felt good… —you said, and your voice came out broken, as if saying it physically hurt—. Yes… it felt good. But only because I don’t know why. I don’t understand it. There’s no explanation. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.
You dragged a trembling hand across your face, smearing dried tears and sweat.
—I hate it. I hate that it felt good. I hate that my body reacted like that. I hate coming without you even touching me there. I hate the moans that escaped me. But I… I don’t know why it happened. I don’t know why my body said yes when I wanted to say no. There’s nothing that explains it. Nothing that fixes whatever is broken inside me.
The workshop was empty. No one was listening. Just you and your distorted reflection in the polished surface of the table, where faint wet marks from what had happened still remained.
You stood up with difficulty, legs weak, body heavy as if you were carrying lead. You looked toward the open door, the dark hallway beyond.
—I’m leaving —you muttered, though there was no one to hear you—. I need to get out of here.
You took a shaky step, then another. Every movement reminded you of the stretch, the emptiness his fingers had left behind, the pleasure that still pulsed inside you like a treacherous echo.
And as you walked toward the exit, alone in the darkness of the workshop, you kept repeating it to yourself in a low voice, like a sick mantra:
—It felt good… but I don’t know why.
There’s no explanation.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
The door closed behind you with a soft click. The workshop fell silent once more, as if nothing had ever happened.
But you knew you would come back tomorrow.
And you would keep saying exactly the same thing.
The next day, the workshop seemed brighter than you remembered, as if the afternoon light had slipped in just to mock everything that had happened in the darkness the night before. Yorozu was there, putting the final touches on the offering: an impeccable piece, carved with a devotion that hurt to look at. Every detail was perfect, every curve and edge screamed her obsession with pleasing Sukuna.
She turned when she saw you enter and her face lit up with a sincere, almost childlike smile.
—Thank you —she said, walking over quickly—. Really, thank you for everything. Without your help I wouldn’t have finished it on time. You… you’re always there when I need you.
Her eyes shone with a mix of gratitude and barely contained excitement. She bit her lower lip for a second, as if she couldn’t hold back what she felt.
—Tonight… —she whispered, lowering her voice even though they were alone—. Tonight I present it to him. And when he sees it, when he acknowledges its merit… he’s going to give me what I was promised. He’s going to take me. Finally I’m going to be his.
She looked at you with so much hope that a knot formed in your throat. She kept talking, thrilled:
—I’ve dreamed about this for so long… Just imagine it: him on top of me, his hands on my body, his voice ordering me to give myself completely. It’s going to be perfect. It’s going to be… everything.
In your mind, a cold, clear voice answered instantly:
It’s not going to happen.
You knew it with a certainty that froze your blood. That night it wouldn’t be Yorozu who ended up beneath him. It would be you. On that same table. Screaming his name while she watched from the shadows. And afterwards, if he kept his twisted word, Yorozu would have to touch you… only because he ordered her to.
But in front of her you couldn’t say any of that.
You stood there staring at her, mouth dry, words stuck somewhere between your chest and throat. What could you possibly tell her? That it was all a lie? That the “prize” she was waiting for wasn’t for her? That you were the one who would be broken in her place?
Finally, you only managed to murmur something vague:
—Yes… it’s going to be… special.
Your voice sounded hollow, fake. Yorozu didn’t seem to notice; she was too lost in her own fantasy. She took your arm affectionately, oblivious to the tremor you were trying to hide.
—Come on —she said, radiant—. It’s time to present it. Let’s take it to him.
Together you lifted the offering carefully. It was heavy, but Yorozu held it with almost religious reverence. You walked through the hallways in silence, the echo of your footsteps ringing like a funeral drum.
You stayed behind, holding one end, feeling not just the weight of the piece, but the weight of everything you knew was coming next. Every step brought you closer to that table. Every step reminded you of what had happened the night before: his fingers inside you, your traitorous orgasm, your whispered confession to the emptiness.
It felt good… but I don’t know why.
And now you were carrying the offering that, in theory, would seal Yorozu’s fate… but in reality only condemned you.
When you reached the main hall, the door was already ajar. Sukuna’s imposing figure waited at the far end, reclining with that dangerous laziness that defined him. His four eyes first landed on the offering… and then on you.
Yorozu took a step forward, trembling with emotion.
—My king… —she said in a reverent voice—. Here it is. My offering. My everything.
Sukuna smiled slowly, a smile that twisted your stomach.
—Very well —he said, without taking his eyes off you—. Bring it closer.
And as Yorozu advanced with the piece in her arms, you stayed back, motionless, knowing that night would not end the way she believed.
Knowing that, when it was all over, you would be the one naked on the table.
And that she… would have to watch.
The main hall was dimly lit, illuminated only by torches that cast long shadows across the walls. Yorozu carefully placed the offering in the center of the floor, kneeling before it as if it were an altar. Her breathing was quick, her hands trembling with barely contained excitement. You stayed a few steps back, your heart pounding so hard you feared it could be heard.
Uraume appeared then from a corner, arms crossed, wearing her usual cold, disdainful expression. She looked the piece up and down, her lips curling in a grimace of disgust.
—That work is ugly —she said in a flat, emotionless voice—. It took far too long for something so mediocre. It looks like you made it with your hands tied.
Yorozu tensed, but she didn’t reply. Her eyes were fixed on Sukuna, waiting for his verdict. The King of Curses slowly rose from his seat, circling the offering. He examined it unhurriedly, running a finger along the carved edges as if appraising merchandise.
Finally he stopped, crossing all four arms behind his back.
—It’s fine —he said indifferently—. It’s not a masterpiece, but it serves its purpose. I acknowledge the effort.
Yorozu let out a trembling sigh of relief. Her eyes filled with tears of joy. She bowed even lower, almost pressing her forehead to the floor.
—Thank you, my king… —she whispered—. Thank you for accepting it.
Sukuna smiled, that slow, dangerous smile that chilled your blood.
—And now —he continued, his voice low and deliberate—, I will choose the night of passion that was promised to me.
Yorozu snapped her head up. Her face lit up as if the sun had risen inside her. She jumped to her feet, hands pressed to her chest, breathing hard.
—Really? —she asked, almost voiceless—. Tonight? With me?
Sukuna tilted his head, his eyes sweeping the room until they settled on you. He stared directly at you, unblinking.
—No —he said with absolute calm—. I want the night of passion… with him.
He pointed straight at you.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Yorozu froze. The smile vanished from her face in an instant. Her eyes widened—first with confusion, then disbelief, and finally with a fury that made her shoulders tremble.
—What? —she whispered, as if she hadn’t heard correctly.
Sukuna didn’t flinch.
—With him —he repeated, never taking his eyes off you—. That is my choice. That night belongs to me… and he is the one who will give it to me.
Yorozu took a step back, as if she had been struck. Her face went from the pink of excitement to the red of rage in seconds.
—With him? —she repeated, her voice rising—. With that… that useless thing? After everything I did? After months of pouring my soul into every cut, every polish? And you choose him!
Her voice broke into a shout.
—It’s not fair! —she spat, stepping forward, fists clenched—. I did everything for you! Everything! And now… you’re going to cast me aside for… for him?
She spun toward you, eyes blazing with angry tears.
—What did you do to him? —she yelled at you—. What did you promise him? What did you give him to steal this from me?
You couldn’t answer. The words stuck in your throat. You could only stand there, motionless, feeling the floor open beneath your feet.
Sukuna let out a low, amused laugh.
—I didn’t promise him anything —he said, shrugging—. I simply took what I wanted. And tonight… I’m going to take everything.
His eyes returned to you, full of promise.
—And you —he said to Yorozu without looking at her—, are going to stay and watch. Like a good spectator.
Yorozu made a choked sound—half sob, half roar. She took another step forward, as if she were about to lunge at him, but Uraume silently stepped in, blocking her path with a single cold glance.
The air in the hall grew thick, charged with fury, humiliation, and something much darker beginning to grow inside you.
Sukuna only smiled.
—Let the night begin —he said, and his voice echoed like a sentence.
Yorozu stood frozen for a second, as if the world had stopped. Then, with a sharp movement, she turned toward the exit of the hall, fists clenched and shoulders trembling with barely contained rage.
—I’m not staying to watch this —she said, her voice broken by fury—. I’m not going to be your damn spectator. I’m leaving.
She took a step toward the door, fast, almost running, as if fleeing could erase the humiliation that had just crashed over her.
Sukuna clicked his tongue, a dry, amused sound. He lazily extended a hand and, without moving from his spot, stopped her dead. An invisible force wrapped around her, like chains of cursed energy binding her ankles and wrists without touching her. Yorozu stumbled but didn’t fall; she was held in place in the middle of the hall, struggling uselessly against the pressure.
—Not so fast —Sukuna said in a calm, almost bored voice—. You will get something from me. Not everything is lost for you.
Yorozu twisted her head toward him, eyes full of angry tears.
—What? —she spat—. Now you’re giving me scraps? After choosing me as the prize and then throwing me away like trash?
Sukuna tilted his head, his smile widening.
—Listen carefully, Yorozu. After the night of passion with him —he pointed at you without looking—, after I’m done with him and have used him however I want… it will be your turn. You will fuck him. You will lay him down on that same table, spread his legs, and enter him. You will do whatever you want with him. And when you’ve finished… —he paused, letting the words sink in like poison— then I will give you exactly what you want from me. What you’ve dreamed of. What you sacrificed months to achieve. Word for word.
Yorozu went still. The rage on her face mixed with dark confusion, a sick spark of desire struggling to surface. Her breathing quickened.
—And why should I accept that? —she asked, voice shaking—. Why should I touch him after you’ve… contaminated him?
Sukuna shrugged.
—Because that’s the price. Because if you don’t do it… you get nothing. Not a caress. Not a glance. Nothing. But if you accept… you’ll have your night with me afterward. And he… he will be the bridge between what you want and what I decide to give you.
The silence fell again, heavy and suffocating.
You, who had been paralyzed until that moment, felt your stomach twist. Guilt hit you like a hammer. You couldn’t bear the way Yorozu was looking at you now: with hatred, betrayal, and something dangerously close to disgust.
You took a step forward, voice trembling and low.
—Yorozu… —you murmured—. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want this to happen. I didn’t want to steal anything from you. I… I didn’t ask for this. I swear I didn’t ask for it. Forgive me… please. Forgive me for being the one standing here in your place.
Yorozu stared at you. The tears she had been holding back finally fell, sliding down her cheeks. But there was no forgiveness in her eyes. Only raw anger and a bitter resignation beginning to form.
—I don’t forgive you —she said coldly—. Not yet. But if this is what I have to do to get what I want… then I’ll do it. I’ll do it with you. And when I’m finished… you’ll wish you’d never looked at me.
She turned toward Sukuna, chin high despite the tears.
—Fine —she said—. I accept. But when my turn comes… I won’t be gentle.
Sukuna let out a low, satisfied laugh.
—Perfect —he said—. Then let the night begin.
His eyes returned to you, promising everything that was to come.
—And you… get ready. Because first you’re mine. Then you’ll be hers. And in the end… I don’t know if there will be anything left of you worth saving.
The air in the hall grew even thicker. Yorozu was still bound by the cursed energy, but she no longer struggled. You felt your legs give way, the weight of everything that had just happened crushing you.
The night had just begun.
And you already knew no one would walk away unscathed.
That night, while the palace sank into an unsettling silence, several servants appeared in the room where you had been left waiting. They were silent, almost ghostly, moving with mechanical efficiency. They led you to a small adjoining chamber, undressed you carefully, and began preparing you as if you were another offering.
They bathed you in warm, perfumed water, dried you with soft cloths, and rubbed oils scented with sandalwood and jasmine into your skin. One of them combed your hair with skilled fingers, leaving it shiny and loose. Another dressed you in a light black silk yukata, so thin it was almost transparent, and tied a blood-red obi around your waist with a perfect knot at the back. They applied a subtle touch of kohl to your eyes and a balm to your lips that left them moist and rosier. They looked you up and down, nodded to each other, and withdrew without a single word.
When they finished, you felt strangely beautiful… and deeply humiliated for feeling it.
They guided you through the dark corridors to the door of Sukuna’s private chamber. They opened it, gently pushed you inside, and closed it behind you. The click of the door was final.
The room was spacious, lit only by a few low candles. Sukuna was seated on the raised futon, shirtless, his four arms crossed casually. His eyes scanned you immediately, from head to toe, and a slow smile spread across his face.
—You look… delicious —he said in a low voice—. The servants did good work. You almost look like a doll wrapped up and brought to me as a gift.
You stood in the center of the room, feeling your pulse in your throat. The silence between you was thick, charged.
—Thank the gods Yorozu didn’t want to watch —you murmured, almost to yourself—. I don’t know if I could have endured it… her seeing this.
Sukuna let out a soft laugh.
—Still so worried about her opinion after everything? How sweet.
You took a step forward, your voice trembling with restrained anger.
—You’re not respecting the deal —you said, looking straight at him—. We agreed that you would never touch her. That she would have her night with me after you… after you finished with me. But now you’re using her as an excuse, as a threat. That wasn’t what we agreed on.
Sukuna rose slowly, walking toward you with deliberate steps. He stopped a meter away, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his cursed body.
—Oh, little naive —he said, almost affectionately—. I never said I wouldn’t touch her. I only said what I needed to say so she wouldn’t hate you quite so much.
You froze.
—What?
He leaned in slightly, his four eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.
—I told her all that —he explained calmly— to keep her from ripping your eyes out in pure rage. To keep her from blaming you completely. So that when she sees you break tonight, she doesn’t see you only as the thief of her dream… but also as the victim. So that when her turn comes with you, she does it with something close to desire… and not just pure hatred.
He came closer, until his breath brushed your ear.
—I wanted her to hate you less —he whispered—. Because too much hatred makes things boring. And I want tonight to be… interesting.
He took your chin with two fingers, forcing you to look at him.
—So don’t worry about the “deal” —he continued—. The deal was always mine to break. And now… you’re exactly where I wanted you to be.
His other two hands moved down to the knot of the obi and began to untie it with deliberate slowness.
—Yorozu will have her night with you afterward —he said, almost amused—. But tonight… tonight you’re only mine.
The yukata opened with a whisper of silk. The cold air of the room brushed your exposed skin.
Sukuna smiled.
—And you look beautiful —he murmured—. Now… come here.
He pulled you toward him, and the door remained closed at your back.
There was no escape.
Sukuna finished opening the yukata completely, letting it fall to the sides like paper. You were left fully exposed before him, your skin glistening from the oils the servants had applied, your body trembling under his gaze. He gave you no time to process the shame; with a fluid motion, he shed his own clothing, letting the dark fabric drop to the floor.
And then you saw it.
Sukuna’s cock was monstrously large.
There was no other word for it. It was thick, long, veined, with a swollen, dark head already leaking pre-cum at the tip. The size was inhuman, almost grotesque: longer than your forearm, thicker than your wrist. Thick veins throbbed visibly under the skin, and the base was surrounded by coarse, dark hair. Just looking at it sent a knot of terror and fascination twisting in your stomach. It was too much. Impossible. Monstrously large.
You froze, eyes wide, breathing ragged. You couldn’t look away. Fear raced up your spine at the same time a treacherous heat pooled in your lower belly.
Sukuna noticed your reaction and let out a low, satisfied laugh.
—Does it scare you? —he asked, taking his own erection in one hand and stroking it slowly, displaying it for you—. Or does it impress you? Look at it closely. This is the one that’s going to be inside you tonight.
You swallowed hard, unable to reply. Sukuna’s cock was monstrously large. Far bigger than anything you had imagined in your worst fantasies. The thought that it would try to enter you made you clench your thighs instinctively, even as your own body betrayed you: your erection throbbing harder, leaking against your stomach.
Sukuna knelt between your legs, spreading them with his knees. His four hands returned to you at once: one caressing your chest, pinching your nipples until you gasped; another sliding down your abdomen to wrap around your cock and begin stroking you with slow, firm movements; the third tracing circles on the inside of your thigh, rising to brush your balls; and the fourth… the fourth returned to your entrance.
Two fingers sank in again, opening you with that same torturous slowness, curling to graze that spot that made your back arch. At the same time, Sukuna brought his erection closer to your body, rubbing it against your inner thigh, leaving a hot, sticky trail of pre-cum on your skin.
—Beautiful —he murmured again, his voice hoarse with desire—. So beautiful when you get nervous over something so big. Look at it again. Look at it and tell me you don’t want it inside you.
You couldn’t answer. You only moaned as his fingers pushed deeper, preparing you. Sukuna’s cock now pressed against your entrance, the thick head nudging, not entering yet, just reminding you how monstrously large it was.
—You’re going to take it all —he whispered against your ear—. Inch by inch. Until there’s no space left inside you. And you’re going to moan my name while you do it.
His fingers withdrew abruptly. In their place, the head of his cock pressed harder against your entrance, stretching you already with just the tip.
—Breathe —he ordered, one hand gripping your hip to hold you in place—. Because tonight… it starts now.
And he pushed.
Slow.
Unstoppable.
Sukuna’s cock was monstrously large.
And it was entering you.
Sukuna pushed a little further, the thick head of his cock stretching your entrance with relentless pressure. The stretch was immediate, intense, almost painful, and the monstrous size of his member made you gasp sharply. You felt your body tense instinctively, resisting the invasion even though it was already prepared.
Then, with a broken voice and cheeks burning with shame, you raised a trembling hand and placed it on Sukuna’s chest, stopping him just barely.
—Wait… —you whispered, almost inaudible at first. You swallowed hard, eyes down, unable to look at him directly—. No… I don’t want this. Not yet.
Sukuna stopped, but he didn’t pull back. The tip remained pressed against you, maintaining that constant threat. He raised an eyebrow, amused, and waited in silence, forcing you to continue.
You closed your eyes tightly, the flush spreading to your ears. The words came out with difficulty, each one more humiliating than the last.
—I want… —you murmured, your voice barely a thread—. I want your fingers first. Just… just your fingers. Please.
The shame burned you alive. Saying it out loud was worse than anything that had happened before. You felt the heat in your face, your chest, between your legs. Your own erection throbbed traitorously, leaking more pre-cum just from uttering those words.
Sukuna let out a low, dark laugh, almost affectionate in its cruelty.
—Shy, huh? —he said, slowly withdrawing the pressure of his cock. The head slipped out of you with a wet, obscene sound, leaving you empty and trembling—. How cute. You still want to pretend you’re not desperate for me.
He pulled his hips back completely, but he didn’t move away. Instead, one of his hands slid between your legs again. Two fingers—the same ones that had already opened you before—returned to your entrance, brushing the sensitive ring, still swollen and slick from the earlier preparation.
—Fine —he whispered, leaning in so his breath grazed your ear—. I’ll give you what you ask for… for now.
The fingers slid inside easily, deeper than before, immediately curling to press against that spot that made your back arch. He moved them in slow circles, then in gentle but firm thrusts, opening you little by little, preparing you again. At the same time, his other hand returned to your cock, stroking you with long, precise movements, the thumb rubbing the head every time it reached the top.
—Tell me —he said in a hoarse voice, watching every reaction on your face—. Is this better? Or do you still want me to stop?
You couldn’t answer with words. You only moaned, your hips moving on their own to chase more of his fingers, your body betraying you once again. The shame was still there, burning and humiliating, but it was no longer enough to stop you.
Sukuna smiled against your neck.
—Good boy —he murmured—. We’ll take our time… until you beg for something bigger.
His fingers sank deeper, and you could only close your eyes and surrender to the pleasure you could no longer deny.
Sukuna kept the two fingers inside you, moving them with deliberate slowness that drove you insane. He curled them right against that spot, pressing with precision every time he pulled them back slightly, only to sink them in again up to the knuckles. The rhythm was constant, torturous: in and out, in and out, the wet sound filling the room along with your ragged breaths and the moans you could no longer fully suppress.
Then he added a third finger.
The stretch became more intense immediately. You felt your entrance open wider, the inner walls adjusting around the three thick fingers, the initial burn mixing with a pleasure so deep it blurred your vision. Sukuna scissored them, opening you little by little, preparing you for something much larger while his other hand continued stroking your cock with long, firm movements, the thumb rubbing the head every time it reached the top, spreading the pre-cum that already coated your stomach.
Without thinking, your right hand flew to his neck. You gripped hard, fingers digging into the hot, tough skin of his throat—not to hurt him (you knew you couldn’t), but to hold on to something, to have even the illusion of control. Your nails bit in slightly, and Sukuna let out a hoarse laugh against your ear.
—Trying to strangle me? —he murmured, amused—. How adorable.
With one of his four hands—the one not busy inside you or on your cock—he wrapped around your waist firmly, his large fingers spanning almost your entire lower back. He lifted you slightly off the futon, pulling you closer to his body, pinning you against him while he kept fucking you with his fingers. The hand on your erection sped up, squeezing just enough to make you gasp.
The pleasure was overwhelming. The three fingers inside you moved faster now, brushing that spot mercilessly while the hand on your cock brought you to the edge over and over. Your hand stayed on his neck, trembling, clinging as if letting go would make you drown.
Then, between gasps and muffled moans, the words slipped out on their own—broken and filled with shame:
—I like it… —you whispered, your voice cracking—. I like it… your fingers… I like how you open me… I like how you touch me…
You paused, your face burning, eyes squeezed shut tight. Your hand gripped his neck harder instinctively, as if punishing yourself for admitting it.
—But I don’t want to accept it… —you continued, almost sobbing—. I don’t want to like it. I don’t want to want this. I don’t want… I don’t want to be like this…
Sukuna let out a low, dark, satisfied laugh. His fingers sank deeper, curling hard against that spot until your back arched violently and a high, sharp moan escaped you uncontrollably.
—Too late for that —he whispered against your mouth, not kissing you, just brushing his lips—. You’re already accepting it. Your body said yes a long time ago. Your hand on my neck… your hips moving on their own… your cock dripping in my hand… all of it screams that you want it.
He tightened the grip on your waist, keeping you pressed against him. The hand on your erection didn’t stop: up and down, faster now, pushing you right to the brink.
—And you’re going to keep telling yourself —he continued, voice hoarse with pleasure—. “I like it… but I don’t accept it.” Over and over. Until the lie falls apart.
His fingers inside you gave one final deep thrust, pressing that spot without mercy.
—And when you’re screaming my name while you come… —he whispered— you’re going to keep repeating it. Because that’s what makes this so delicious.
Your body trembled on the edge of orgasm, hand still on his neck, clinging as if it were the only thing keeping you sane.
Sukuna smiled against your skin.
—Come on… come for me —he ordered softly—. And repeat that you like it… even if you don’t want to accept it.
Sukuna pulled his three fingers out abruptly, leaving your entrance empty and throbbing. The sudden void was immediate, almost painful, and your body clenched instinctively, searching for something to fill the space he had just abandoned. You were completely gone: head thrown back, eyes glassy, breathing ragged, body trembling on the edge of an orgasm that wouldn’t quite arrive. Everything felt blurred, distant, as if the pleasure had disconnected you from yourself.
Sukuna repositioned himself between your legs, aligning the monstrously large head of his cock against your still-open, sensitive entrance. He pressed slowly, just the tip brushing, stretching you again with the constant threat of his impossible size.
—Now —he murmured, voice hoarse and thick with desire—. Now I’m going to put it all in.
You could barely process the words. Your mind was clouded, lost in a haze of pleasure and shame. You tried to say something, anything, but only a incoherent moan came out, a broken sound that meant nothing.
Sukuna leaned over you, one hand gripping your hip to keep you still, another idly caressing your chest as he pushed a little further. The head began to enter, slow, relentless, opening you inch by inch. The stretch was overwhelming: burning, pressure, a fullness that made you gasp uncontrollably.
—You’re so far gone —he said with a low laugh, almost tender—. You don’t even know what you’re saying anymore, do you?
You only moaned, head moving side to side, unable to form coherent words. Your hand still clung weakly to his neck, as if that could stop the inevitable.
Sukuna pushed another centimeter in, the thick shaft opening your insides without mercy. He leaned down until his lips brushed your ear.
—At least admit one thing —he whispered—. Can you admit that I’m attractive? That you like looking at me? That it turns you on that I’m the one doing this to you?
Your eyes opened slightly, unfocused. The question took a moment to reach your clouded mind. Finally, with a broken voice, almost a sob, you managed to stammer:
—Only… only my heart belongs to Yorozu… —you murmured between gasps—. Only to her…
Sukuna let out a dark, deep laugh that vibrated against your skin.
—That’s not true —he said with absolute calm, pushing another inch deeper. His cock sank further, filling you in a way that made your back arch and a high moan escape you—. Your heart can belong to her… but your body… —he pushed again, slow, torturous— your body is mine now. And your body doesn’t lie.
You weakly shook your head, but the movement only made his cock brush that spot inside you, tearing another involuntary moan from your throat.
—Don’t you like that I’m tall? —Sukuna asked, his voice low and provocative—. Don’t you like that I’m muscular? That I can lift you with one hand and fuck you against the wall if I want?
You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, face burning, pleasure and shame blending until you couldn’t tell one from the other. Sukuna’s cock kept entering, inch by inch, opening you without pause.
—Maybe… —you whispered finally, voice so low it was barely audible—. Maybe… I do like it…
The words came out as a broken confession, something you didn’t want to admit but could no longer deny. Your hand on his neck tightened slightly—not to resist, but to hold on as your body surrendered completely.
Sukuna smiled against your neck, satisfied.
—Good boy —he murmured—. Now… relax. Because I’m going all the way in.
And with one final slow but firm thrust, Sukuna’s monstrously large cock sank to the base.
The world turned white.
Sukuna thrust all the way in with one final slow, firm push, his monstrously large cock burying itself completely inside you. The base pressed flush against your ass, his heavy balls brushing your skin, and in that instant the entire world narrowed to the overwhelming sensation of being filled to the absolute limit.
You felt… full.
Overfilled, but in a way that wasn’t just painful—it was rich, deep, overwhelming in the best possible sense. Sukuna’s cock was so thick that every prominent vein felt etched against your inner walls, every pulse of his heartbeat throbbing directly inside you. The girth stretched you to the point where there was no empty space left; every inch of your insides was claimed by him, pressing relentlessly against that sensitive spot without pause, without mercy. It was as if you had been opened and packed with something hot, alive, pulsing that moved with you in every breath.
Every time you tried to exhale, your body clenched around him, and that only made the sensation more intense: a rich, thick pleasure that spread from your entrance up your spine, down your thighs, making your whole body tremble. It felt good. Too good. The kind of good that made you lose control of your own sounds—long, broken moans, almost sobs of pleasure that escaped without permission.
And Sukuna… Sukuna felt it too.
He let out a low, hoarse, almost animal growl the moment he was fully seated. His four hands tightened on your body: one gripping your hip hard, another holding the back of your neck to keep your eyes on him, the third idly caressing your chest with spread fingers, and the fourth wrapping around your still-hard, dripping cock.
—Fuck… —he muttered against your neck, voice deeper than usual, thick with raw pleasure—. You’re so tight… so hot… so fucking perfect around me.
He gave one more subtle thrust, though there was no more room left—just a small rock that made his cock grind against every inner wall and drew a high, trembling moan from you.
—You feel… so good —he said, almost surprised by his own words—. Your ass grips me like it never wants to let go. Every time you clench… you drive me crazy.
He started moving for real: slow withdrawals, almost pulling the head out, then deep, firm thrusts that filled you to the base again. Every stroke was a direct hit against that spot that made you see stars, that made you moan uncontrollably, that made you dig your nails into his neck and back. The pleasure was thick, sticky, rich—a constant wave rising and falling with each movement, making your cock leak nonstop, making your body shake, making your legs spread wider on instinct.
Sukuna growled again, eyes half-lidded, all four gleaming with a mix of hunger and satisfaction.
—God… it feels so good —he said, voice rough, almost panting—. Your insides hug me so tight… so hot… so wet… —He thrust harder once, making both of you gasp in unison—. You’re driving me insane… you’re milking me…
You could only moan, head thrown back, tears of pleasure sliding down your temples. It felt good. Too good. Rich, deep, overwhelming. Every movement of Sukuna inside you was a violent caress that pushed you closer to the edge, that made you forget shame, fear, everything except the sensation of being filled by him.
And he… he was lost in it too.
His thrusts grew deeper, faster, but still controlled, as if he wanted to savor every second. Every time he sank to the base, he let out a low growl, almost a purr, and his hands gripped you tighter, as if afraid you might slip away.
—So good… —he repeated, voice trembling slightly from pleasure—. So fucking good…
And he kept moving, filling you, fucking you, enjoying you, while you could only surrender to the sensation you both shared: a pleasure so intense there were no words left to describe it—only moans, gasps, and the wet sound of their bodies colliding again and again.
Sukuna began to move with more intention, pulling out almost completely before sinking back in with slow but deep thrusts.
Each withdrawal left a cold, desperate emptiness that made you gasp, and each thrust filled that void with an overwhelming fullness. The rhythm was controlled at first, as if he wanted you to feel every inch of his monstrously large cock rubbing against your inner walls, pressing relentlessly against that sensitive spot without mercy
The pleasure built quickly, thick and impossible to ignore. Your hands gripped his neck and back harder, nails digging into his skin without realizing it. You tried to hold back the sounds—biting your lip, clenching your teeth, stifling the moans in your throat—but you couldn’t. Not for long.
The first hard thrust tore a high, trembling moan from you that echoed in the silent room. Then another, longer, more broken. Every time Sukuna buried himself to the hilt, a sound escaped you without permission: high-pitched moans, ragged gasps, almost sobs of pleasure that you could no longer suppress.
—Ah… ahh… —you let out, voice cracking as your back arched on its own—. Sukuna… ahh…
He growled in response, satisfied, and picked up the pace. The thrusts became faster, harder, the wet, obscene sound of your bodies colliding filling the air along with your increasingly unrestrained moans. They were no longer whispers or muffled gasps; they were open, desperate, high and trembling moans that filled the room.
—No… ahh… yes… —you moaned incoherently, head thrown back, tears of pleasure sliding down your temples—. Ahh! Sukuna…!
Each deep thrust pulled a choked cry from you, your voice rising in pitch without control. Your hips began moving on instinct, lifting to meet his, chasing more, deeper, faster. The moans became continuous, an unbroken chain of sounds you no longer tried to stop: high, hoarse, almost tearful.
—Ahh… ah… yes! —you cried without realizing it, legs trembling, spreading wider on their own—. Don’t stop… ahh…!
Sukuna let out an animalistic growl, eyes gleaming with pure pleasure as he fucked you harder. His four hands held you: one gripping your hip to guide your movements, another on the back of your neck forcing you to look at him, the third pinching and twisting your nipples with cruel precision, and the fourth stroking your cock at the same brutal rhythm as his thrusts.
—Like that… —he growled against your mouth—. Let me hear you. Moan for me. Scream my name.
And you did.
The moans turned into full cries: high, broken, filled with uncontrollable pleasure. Each thrust ripped a new one from you, more desperate than the last.
—Sukuna! Ahhh! Sukuna… yes… yes…! —you screamed, voice shaking, body convulsing around him—. You’re… you’re killing me… ahh
You couldn’t hold them back. You didn’t want to anymore. The pleasure was too rich, too intense, and every time his cock hit that spot inside you, another moan poured from your throat without filter, without shame, just pure ecstasy.
Sukuna growled louder, eyes half-closed, all four shining with wild pleasure.
—Keep screaming —he panted, thrusting harder, deeper—. I want the whole palace to know who’s fucking you like this… who’s making you scream like a whore.
And you kept screaming his name, lost in the sensation of his cock filling you, fucking you mercilessly, pushing you straight to the edge while he too approached the brink, his growls mixing with your cries in an obscene and perfect chorus.
The climax hit like a storm you couldn’t stop.
Your entire body tensed at once. The muscles in your legs contracted hard, your toes curled against the futon, your nails dug even deeper into Sukuna’s back until they left red trails. Your insides clenched around his cock in violent, rhythmic spasms, as if trying to push him out and pull him in at the same time. Each contraction was a strong, hot pulse that made Sukuna’s cock feel even thicker inside you, pressing against every hypersensitive nerve.
The sensation exploded from your prostate: a scorching electric current that raced up your spine like liquid fire, spreading across your chest, down your arms and legs to the tips of your fingers. Your cock, still trapped in Sukuna’s rough hand, jerked violently. The first spurt shot out with such force that it splashed your own chest and chin, hot and thick, followed by another and another, each one accompanied by a torn scream that ripped from your throat:
—Ahhh! Sukuna! I’m coming… I’m coming… ahhh!
The pleasure was blinding, almost painfully intense. You felt every pulse of your orgasm like a wave shattering you from the inside: burning heat, electric tingling, uncontrollable shudders. Your vision went white for seconds, black spots dancing at the edges, while hot tears slid down your temples and mixed with the sweat covering your face and neck. The smell of fresh semen—salty, musky—blended with both of your sweat and the faint lingering scent of sandalwood on your skin.
Your insides kept convulsing around Sukuna’s cock, squeezing him hard with every spasm, as if your body wanted to milk him. Each contraction made the thick head grind against that spot again and again, prolonging the orgasm in endless waves. Your moans turned into choked sobs, your voice hoarse and broken:
—Ahh… no… keep going… don’t stop… ahhh!
But Sukuna didn’t stop.
He kept thrusting with the same brutal force, giving you no second of relief. Each slam of his pelvis against your ass echoed in the room, the wet, obscene sound mixing with your now-interrupted, sobbing cries.
—Ah… ahh…! —you sobbed, still shaking from the aftershocks, the pleasure now so intense it bordered on pain—. Sukuna… please…!
He growled against your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he sped up even more.
—I’m not done with you —he panted, voice rough and thick with pleasure—. You’re going to keep feeling me… you’re going to keep screaming… until I say so.
His thrusts became faster, harder, pounding that hypersensitive spot that still throbbed after your climax. Your body, still sensitive and convulsing, responded against your will: new moans tore from your throat, higher, more broken. The overstimulation was brutal: every slide of his cock inside you felt like pure electricity, making your hips lift on their own to meet him, making your hands claw at his back with nails digging in, making fresh tears stream down your face.
—Ahhh! Too much… too much! —you cried between sobs of pleasure—. Sukuna… you’re… you’re breaking me… ahh!
But he didn’t stop.
He kept fucking you mercilessly, savoring every contraction of your insides around his cock, every scream that poured from your mouth, every tremor from your exhausted but still responsive body.
—Scream louder —he growled, thrusting deeper—. I want to hear you until you lose your voice.
And you kept screaming his name, lost in a storm of pleasure that had no end, while Sukuna pushed you beyond the limit, fucking you without pause, without mercy, until your entire body surrendered completely to him.
Sukuna kept up the brutal pace, each deep, precise thrust striking that spot inside you without giving you a single moment of rest. Your body was still trembling from the recent orgasm, hypersensitive, every slide of his cock like liquid fire burning you from within. Your screams were no longer coherent—just broken, high-pitched, desperate sounds that mixed with the wet, obscene slapping of your bodies colliding.
—Ahh… Sukuna…! I can’t… I can’t take any more…! —you sobbed between thrusts, tears streaming uncontrollably down your temples, sweat plastering your hair to your forehead.
But he didn’t stop.
His hands held you tightly: one on your hip guiding you to take every blow, another on the back of your neck keeping you pressed against him, the third pinching and twisting your nipples until the pain blended with pleasure in electric sparks, and the fourth stroking you mercilessly, even though your cock was already empty and oversensitive. Every movement of his hand was exquisite torment, prolonging the aftershocks of your orgasm until you felt like you were going to shatter.
After several more thrusts—each one deeper, more violent—Sukuna growled against your neck, teeth grazing your skin. His breathing grew irregular, heavy, animalistic. His hips lost control for a moment: he thrust once more, all the way in, and stayed buried to the hilt.
—Fuck… —he panted, voice hoarse and trembling—. I’m coming…
And he did.
The first hot spurt filled you with brutal force. You felt the pulse of his cock, each strong, deep throb as he emptied inside you: thick, hot, abundant jets flooding your insides. The sensation was overwhelming: liquid heat spreading through your lower belly, growing pressure, the absolute fullness of feeling him spill every last drop. Your body convulsed again, a second dry, painful orgasm ripping through you, making your inner walls clamp down around him in uncontrollable spasms, milking him as he kept coming.
—Ahhh… Sukuna…! I feel it… I feel everything…! —you screamed, voice cracking, body arching violently—. It’s so much…!
But Sukuna didn’t stop.
Even though he had just come inside you, even though his hot semen was already starting to leak down your inner thighs, he kept moving. The thrusts became slower but no less deep, pushing his own release further inside, mixing it with your already sensitive, full interior. The sound was even more obscene: the wet squelch of his cum being forced back in every time he pulled out and thrust back in.
He leaned over you, all four eyes gleaming with something dark and possessive. His breathing was still heavy, but his voice came out clear, low, almost tender in its cruelty.
—You know… —he murmured against your ear, while still slowly fucking you, pushing his semen deeper with every movement—. You could forget about Yorozu. You could stay here… by my side. Be truly mine.
You could barely breathe. Your mind was clouded, your body exhausted and trembling, still feeling every pulse of his cock inside you, every drop of his hot cum that filled you.
—What…? —you whispered, voice hoarse and broken, almost without strength.
Sukuna gave one more slow, deliberate thrust, drawing a choked moan from your throat.
—She’ll never give you this —he said, the hand on your neck forcing you to look at him—. She’ll never make you scream like that. She’ll never fill you like I do. But I… I can give you everything. Always. —Another slow push—. You could be mine. Forget her name. Stay here… in my bed… in my body… every night.
His thrusts didn’t stop, even though he had already finished. He fucked you with his own release inside you, pushing it deeper, making you feel every inch of him while he spoke.
—Tell me —he whispered, lips brushing yours without kissing—. Wouldn’t it be easier? Wouldn’t it be better… if you stayed with me?
You could only moan, body shaking, mind torn to pieces between the overwhelming pleasure and the proposal he had just made.
Sukuna waited a few seconds, his eyes fixed on your tear- and sweat-soaked face, but your mind was still shattered, unable to form a coherent response. Only muffled moans and ragged breaths came from your mouth, your body still trembling from the recent orgasm and overstimulation.
He grew tired of waiting.
—Fine —he growled against your ear, voice low and laced with impatience—. If you’re not going to answer… I’ll fuck you until you do.
Without giving you time to react, he tightened his grip on your hip and began thrusting again with renewed force. His cock—still hard and hot inside you—moved with deep, rapid strokes, pushing his own cum deeper with every thrust. The sound was obscene, impossible to ignore: a constant wet squelch, the filthy, slippery slurp of his semen being forced out and pushed back in with each movement. The hot liquid leaked down your inner thighs, dripped from your ass, and soaked the futon beneath you, making every impact produce a louder, wetter, more indecent noise.
—Listen to that —Sukuna panted, thrusting harder—. Listen to how your ass sounds full of me… how my cum moves inside you every time I fuck you.
The sound was deafening in the silent room: squelch-squelch-squelch, the slippery, dirty slide of his cock gliding through your cum-lubed insides, the solid slap of his pelvis against your ass, the faint gurgle when he drove too deep and the semen shifted. It was filthy, raw, and arousing in a way that made you tremble with shame and pleasure at the same time.
You could no longer speak. You only moaned.
High, broken, continuous moans poured from your throat without control:
—Ahh… ahhh… ahh…!
Each thrust tore a new one from you, more desperate, higher-pitched. Your voice cracked, grew hoarse, almost tearful. There were no words—only sounds: long, trembling moans, choked sobs of pleasure, muffled screams when he hit that hypersensitive spot again and again. Your body convulsed around him, squeezing him with every involuntary contraction, milking him as he fucked you mercilessly.
Sukuna growled in satisfaction, eyes gleaming as he watched you fall apart beneath him.
—And now? —he asked, thrusting deeper, making the wet sound grow even louder—. Can you forget Yorozu? Can you stay with me? Be mine?
You only moaned louder, head thrown back, tears streaming without control. There was no coherent answer—just more moans:
—Ahhh… ah… ahhh…!
Sukuna sped up, fucking you harder, the wet, filthy squelching of his cum inside you echoing like an obscene chorus in the room. Every thrust forced more of his release outward, dripping down your thighs, soaking everything in its path.
—Answer —he growled, one hand gripping the back of your neck to force you to look at him—. Can you forget her? Or do I have to fuck you until your voice breaks and you can only say my name?
Your moans grew even higher, more desperate, while he kept moving without pause, the wet, dirty sound filling every space between you.
You didn’t know how much time had passed.
It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. Time had dissolved into a hot, hazy fog of continuous pleasure, of thrusts that never stopped, of wet, obscene sounds that filled the room without pause. Your body no longer belonged to you: it was a trembling, exhausted instrument that responded instinctively to every movement Sukuna made. Your legs hung limp, spread wide by the force of his hips; your hands clung weakly to his back, his neck, the soaked sheets; your voice had reduced to hoarse, broken moans, almost sobs that escaped without control every time he buried himself to the hilt.
Sukuna kept fucking you.
Slow now, deep, unhurried. Each thrust pushed his hot cum deeper inside, stirring it, making it leak down your inner thighs in thick, sticky trails. The sound was constant: squelch… squelch… wet, filthy splashing every time he pulled back and thrust in again, the semen lubricating everything until your entrance was swollen, slippery, and hypersensitive. You felt every vein of his cock rubbing against your inner walls, every hot pulse throbbing inside you, every direct hit against that spot that made your back arch and a high, broken moan tear from your throat.
—Ahh… ahhh… —you moaned nonstop, voice trembling and cracking—. Sukuna…
You still hadn’t answered.
You couldn’t. Your mind was in pieces, floating between overwhelming pleasure and a lingering guilt that still burned in some distant corner. You really liked it. You liked it too much. Sex with him, right now, was the most intense, the richest, the most addictive thing you had ever felt. His cock felt so good inside you: thick, hot, filling you to the absolute limit, rubbing every sensitive nerve with every slow, deliberate movement. Every time he sank to the base, a dense, sticky pleasure spread through your lower belly, climbed your spine, made your whole body tremble. It was so good it hurt. So good you almost cried from how much you enjoyed it.
But…
You couldn’t forget Yorozu.
Her name was still there, lodged in your chest like an open wound. Even though your body surrendered, even though your voice screamed Sukuna’s name over and over, even though every thrust made you see stars for a few seconds… she was still there. Her smile, her hope, her pain. You couldn’t erase her. You didn’t want to erase her. Your heart still beat for her, even while your body arched and moaned under Sukuna’s weight.
He knew it.
He felt it in the way you clenched around his cock, in the way your moans grew louder but you never said “yes” or “no.” He kept moving, slow and deep now, pushing his cum deeper with every deliberate thrust, making the wet squelching sound even louder, more indecent.
—So? —he whispered against your ear, voice hoarse but firm—. Can you forget her? Or do I have to keep fucking you until your body forgets her name for me?
You only moaned louder, head thrown back, tears streaming without control.
—Ahhh… Sukuna… it feels… so good… —you sobbed between moans—. Your cock… inside me… so good… so full… ahh…
The words came out broken, between moans, without filter.
—So rich… so full… ahh… I can’t… I can’t stop feeling it…
But you didn’t say you could forget her.
You couldn’t.
Sukuna growled, satisfied and frustrated at the same time, and thrust deeper, slower, making you feel every inch of him rubbing against your inner walls, every hot pulse throbbing inside you.
—Then we keep going —he said, voice dark and possessive—. Until your body decides for you… or until your voice breaks trying to deny it.
And he kept fucking you, mercilessly, endlessly, while you could only moan, tremble, and surrender to the pleasure consuming you entirely—trapped between what your body craved and what your heart refused to let go of.
Sukuna didn’t stop for even a moment. He kept fucking you with a ferocity that had lost all restraint: each withdrawal was almost complete, leaving only the swollen head inside you so you could feel the sudden, painful emptiness, and each thrust was a violent slam all the way to the root, his pelvis crashing against your ass with a sharp, resounding sound that echoed through the entire room. The semen he had already spilled inside you was relentlessly stirred: a constant, filthy, sticky splashing that grew more obscene with every movement. The hot liquid gushed out with each pull-back, dripping down your inner thighs in thick white streams that soaked the sheets and formed a puddle beneath you, turning the futon slick and warm.
Your insides were wrecked with pleasure: swollen, hypersensitive, soaked to the point that every entry produced a loud, filthy squelch, as if your body was being endlessly filled and emptied. You felt every thick vein of his cock rubbing against your inner walls with scorching pressure, every hot pulse throbbing directly against your inflamed prostate. The friction was brutal: the broad head struck that spot over and over with lethal precision, sending electric shocks that made your back arch to the point of nearly dislocating. The heat inside you was suffocating: a living rod of fire burning from your rectum to your stomach, spreading up your spine and making your nipples harden until they ached, making your thighs tremble uncontrollably, making your toes curl hard.
Your cock, though already empty and sore, contracted again in dry spasms every time Sukuna drove deep. Clear pre-cum dripped nonstop, mixing with the sweat coating your abdomen and chest. Sukuna’s rough hand kept stroking you mercilessly, the thumb circling the hypersensitive head in cruel motions that made you convulse and scream louder. The pleasure was no longer just rich: it was painful, overwhelming, unbearable in its intensity. Every nerve in your body felt exposed, every slide an explosion.
—Ahhh… Sukuna…! No… again…! —you screamed between sobs, voice broken and trembling—. I’m coming… I’m coming again… ahhh!
The final orgasm shattered you.
Your entire body tensed like a bow about to snap. Your legs shook violently, thighs spreading and closing on reflex as your hips lifted on their own to meet his. Your inner walls clamped down around his cock in brutal spasms, squeezing him so hard that Sukuna let out a deep, animal growl. Weak, dry spurts leaked from your cock, splashing your already cum- and sweat-covered abdomen, while a long, torn scream ripped from your throat:
—AHHHH! SUKUNA! Yes… yes… ahhh…!
The pleasure was blinding, almost violent. Your vision went white, black spots dancing at the edges, while hot tears streamed uncontrollably down your temples and mixed with the sweat covering your face and neck. Your prostate throbbed with every strike, sending waves of ecstasy that made you convulse nonstop. Your insides clenched and released in uncontrollable spasms, milking Sukuna’s cock as he kept thrusting without mercy.
And then Sukuna came too.
His thrusts turned erratic, uncontrolled. He growled your name against your neck, teeth sinking slightly into your skin as he thrust one last time to the hilt and released inside you again. Hot, thick jets flooded you once more, mixing with what was already there, filling you until you felt unbearable pressure in your lower belly, liquid heat spreading inside until it felt like you would burst. His cock pulsed hard, throbbing with each spurt, and he groaned low and hoarse as he emptied completely, pushing his cum deeper with small rolls of his hips.
When he finished, he stayed buried inside you for a few more seconds, breathing heavily, all four arms trembling slightly from the effort. Then, slowly, he pulled out. The wet, obscene sound of his cock leaving was followed by a thick drip: his hot semen escaping your swollen, gaping entrance, sliding down your perineum and soaking the sheets in a sticky, warm puddle.
You lay sprawled on the bed, completely spent. Your body shook uncontrollably, legs limp and spread, chest heaving with fast, shallow breaths. Sweat and semen coated your skin from chest to thighs, your cock rested flaccid against your abdomen, still twitching with faint, painful aftershocks. You couldn’t move. You could barely breathe. Your eyes were half-closed, mind blank, body exhausted and empty at the same time.
Sukuna lay beside you, propped on one elbow, watching you with a satisfied, possessive smile. He ran a hand over your soaked chest, tracing lazy lines across your sticky skin.
—I’d like to keep going —he said softly, almost purring—. I could fuck you all night… until there’s nothing left of you. But… —he sighed, as if restraining himself was difficult— I’ll let you rest. For now.
He leaned down, brushing his lips against your sweaty temple.
—And now? —he asked, voice hoarse but firm—. Can you answer? Can you forget Yorozu… and stay with me?
You could barely speak. Your throat was raw, your mind in tatters. You squeezed your eyes shut, a tear sliding down your cheek.
—I don’t know… —you whispered, voice broken and barely audible—. I still… don’t know…
Sukuna let out a low, dark laugh, but he didn’t press further. He simply pulled you against his chest with two arms, letting the other two stroke your trembling back.
—Sleep —he murmured—. There’ll be time for you to decide… or for your body to decide for you.
And you stayed there, exhausted, empty and full at once, trembling in his arms
your body still convulsing with the aftershocks of your final orgasm, your insides full of his hot cum slowly leaking down your thighs and soaking the sheets. Sukuna’s heat enveloped you completely: his skin pressed against yours, his heavy breathing brushing your neck, the strong, steady beat of his heart pounding against your back. You couldn’t move. You could barely think. You existed only in that space between absolute exhaustion and the lingering echo of pleasure still coursing through you like electric current.
With your voice cracked, barely a hoarse whisper escaping between gasps, you managed to ask:
—Why…? —You swallowed hard, your throat raw—. Why do you want to be with me? Why… me?
Sukuna stayed silent for a moment. One of his four hands continued lazily stroking your back in slow lines across your damp, trembling skin, while the other three kept you pressed tightly to his chest. When he spoke, his voice came out low, thoughtful, without the usual mocking edge he used with you.
—I’d like… —he said slowly, as if the words weighed on him— for someone to be like this for me. The way you are for Yorozu.
You lifted your gaze with effort, eyes still glassy, lashes clumped from dried tears and sweat.
—Like this… how? —you asked, voice shaking.
Sukuna let out a short, almost inaudible sigh. His four eyes stared straight into yours, unblinking.
—Devoted. Blind. Willing to break yourself completely just to see that person smile. —His thumb brushed your cheek, wiping away a lingering tear with a gentleness you didn’t know he possessed—. You look at her like she’s the center of the universe. Like nothing else exists. I’d like… to have that. Someone who looks at me that way. Who isn’t afraid of me. Who doesn’t flinch when I get close… just because it’s me.
You swallowed hard. Your heart pounded so strongly you felt it might burst out of your chest.
—But… you have Uraume —you murmured, voice weak—. Uraume is… very devoted. They serve you completely. They look at you like you’re a god. They never contradict you. Never doubt.
Sukuna let out a low, dry laugh with no trace of humor. His hand on your back paused for a second, squeezing slightly.
—Uraume… —he repeated the name with total indifference, as if speaking of an object—. Uraume serves me because they’re loyal. Because they’re useful. Because that’s how they were raised. It’s not the same.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
—I’m not interested in Uraume. Not like that. I don’t want devotion out of habit or duty. I want… —he paused, searching for the exact word— I want someone to choose me. To see me exactly as I am—monster, king, curse—and still stay. To look at me with that same madness you look at Yorozu with. Without fear. Without calculation. Just… wanting to be here.
You squeezed your eyes shut. The knot in your throat grew tighter. Your body was still trembling faintly from the aftershocks of pleasure, but now there was something else: a cold current running down your spine, mixed with the suffocating heat of Sukuna’s body.
—I don’t know if… —you began, but your voice cracked.
Sukuna pulled you closer, almost tenderly, though his arms were still iron.
—You don’t have to know right now —he murmured, nose brushing your sweaty temple—. I just wanted you to know. That it’s not only about fucking you. Though that… —he gave a crooked smile, voice dropping to a dark purr— I like very much.
Silence fell between you again, heavy and charged.
But you, still trembling slightly in his arms, your body exhausted and sticky, managed to gather the little strength you had left to speak. Your voice came out hoarse, weak, almost a broken murmur between ragged breaths.
—I can’t… —you whispered, eyes squeezed shut—. I certainly couldn’t… erase the feelings I have for Yorozu right now. I can’t just wipe her away like that… not now. I don’t know if I ever could.
You paused, swallowing hard. The knot in your throat was so tight it hurt.
—And I also… I couldn’t look at you that way right now —you continued, voice shaking—. Not the way I look at her. Not yet. I don’t know if I ever can. It’s… different. All of this is different.
Sukuna didn’t move, but you felt his hand on your back pause for a second, listening to you with absolute attention.
—For now… —you went on, almost in a whisper— I don’t want the night of passion with Yorozu. I don’t want it. Not now. Not like this. I just… I just want peace. I want my mind to stop spinning. I want to not have to decide anything. Anything at all.
You finally opened your eyes, looking at him with a mix of exhaustion and deep confusion.
—I don’t really know what I want, Sukuna —you admitted, your voice cracking on the last word—. I don’t know. All of this… confuses me. It hurts. It feels good. It terrifies me. But I don’t know what I want. Not right now.
The silence that followed was heavy, but not hostile. Sukuna watched you for a few more seconds, his four eyes scanning your face as if trying to read every crack in your soul. Finally, he let out a long sigh, almost resigned.
—All right —he said softly, without a trace of mockery—. I won’t force you to decide tonight.
One of his hands pulled you closer, almost carefully, letting you rest your head against his chest.
—Rest —he murmured—. Sleep. There’ll be time… or there won’t be. But for now, just sleep.
You closed your eyes again, your body finally surrendering to the exhaustion. You said nothing more. You simply let the strong, steady beat of his heart lull you, as sleep at last claimed you, carrying you far away from the questions, the guilt, the pleasure, and everything you still didn’t know how to name.
The next morning you woke up in your room, your body heavy, aching in places you didn’t even know could hurt so much. The faint light of dawn slipped shyly through the paper window panels, and the air still carried a vague scent of you—of sweat, sex, and Sukuna. You lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, feeling the echo of everything that had happened: every thrust, every moan, every word he had whispered to you in the dark.
You didn’t have time to sink deeper into the memories. The sliding door opened softly, and a young maid entered, bowing deeply with a tray in her hands.
—Good morning —she said in a low, respectful voice—. King Sukuna ordered this breakfast prepared for you.
She placed the tray carefully beside your futon. There was perfectly cooked white rice, a little grilled fish, steaming green tea, and, in a small black porcelain bowl, a fruit you recognized instantly: that sour, slightly bitter fruit you had always hated. It was cut into perfect, symmetrical little cubes, almost obsessively neat, and drizzled with a generous thread of golden honey that glistened under the soft light.
The maid added, with a small, shy smile:
—It’s his favorite, according to the king. He thought you might like to try it this way.
You stared at the little cubes of fruit, the honey slowly dripping between them, and suddenly you laughed. A short, tired, almost incredulous laugh that slipped out of your chest without permission. It was so absurd. So… Sukuna.I sent it perhaps thinking they would be your favorites, or I knew you didn't like them.
It was ironic
—Thank you —you managed to say, still with a faint smile lingering on your lips—. You can leave it here.
The maid bowed again and withdrew in silence, leaving the room quiet once more.
You sat up slowly, ignoring the dull ache in your lower back and between your legs. You stared at the tray for a long time.
For the moment, you decided to ignore whether Yorozu would get angry. You knew she was furious with you. You felt it in your bones: the way she had looked at you the night before, the rage, the betrayal, the pain. And when you saw her again, you would apologize to her as many times as necessary. You would say it on your knees if you had to. Because you still loved her. You still felt that knot in your chest when you thought of her, her smile, her hope, how she had given everything for Sukuna thinking it was for her.
But… you also knew something else.
If Sukuna wanted another night of passion with you, you would accept it.
Not because you had stopped loving Yorozu—those feelings hadn’t vanished, and maybe they never would completely—but because a part of you could no longer lie: the pleasure you felt last night was real. Intense. Addictive. And even though your heart still beat for her, your body… your body already knew the taste of surrendering completely to him.
Maybe—just maybe—you could start to let go of those feelings for Yorozu. Not erase them suddenly, not betray them cruelly, but let them fade little by little, like ink dissolving in water. Maybe you could try to see Sukuna for who he really was: not just the monster who had broken and filled you, but the being who last night had confessed—in his twisted way—that he wanted to be chosen. That he wanted to be looked at without fear.
You picked up one of the fruit cubes with your fingers. You looked at it for a second, coated in shining honey, and brought it to your mouth. The sour taste clashed against the sticky sweetness, and though you didn’t like it—you had never liked it—this time you didn’t spit it out. You just chewed slowly, letting the contrast settle on your tongue.
And for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure if that was a victory… or a surrender.
But for now, you decided you would simply eat the breakfast he had sent you.
And see what happened next.
I really thought a lot about how to create a story like this with Sukuna; I really enjoy writing stories about characters from the jujutsu world. I will definitely make more parts of this.
