A Simp

25 BLK multifandom mulitishipper.

[koosvnt-deactivated20260319]

Sukuna x male reader

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.

[friccahacked]

i invented a guy and have fallen in love with him. who could have foreseen this (his name is Hank and hes a trucker and hes so full of love and grief and HE IS MY WORLD)

[friccahacked]

oh yeah hes dumb as rocks<3

[social-nobody-2001]

Fuuuuuuuck

[smallpwbbles]

I want sonic to go dark in movie 3 only a normal amount…

dark movie sonic design was made by @tharkflark1

[humanityinahandbag]

It happens like this;

Shadow is full of grief the way a cup overflows. The world is new, and changed, and terrible, especially because it’s missing the one thing that made it even remotely bearable, and he wants to push back against it until it crumbles.

It happens like this;

There is a group of creatures that look like him, but they’re nothing like him. They’re against him, and he doesn’t know why. Why they’re defending humans. Why they’re protecting Earth. Why they don’t understand what people take and take and take.

“You could join me,” he says to the three of them.

The blue one glares and holds up his fists. “I’d rather not,” he says.

It happens like this;

He beats against them with everything he has, but they don’t fight to kill. They fight to stun. They fight to push back. But they never fight to kill.

“Why are you doing this!”

The red one pins him down. “We do not want to hurt you.”

“You need help,” the yellow one says, watching him with so much sincere concern. It puts his teeth on edge.

The blue one kneels down by him, the same sort of hurt in his eyes. “I know something hurt you. But this isn’t the way to solve that. I… I know some people who could help you. Maybe- maybe if you just let them-”

And he points behind him, where there are two humans watching anxiously.

Two humans.

And all Shadow can think of in that moment is that he’s going to be torn away again, that he’s going to be put in to dark again, and they won’t, they won’t, they won’t.

The air around him begins to crackle, and all he can feel is rage.

It happens like this.

Tom knows he doesn’t have powers, but all he can see is his son, his son, his son. And his son is right in front of this new creature. Tom knows he doesn’t have powers. Tom knows his son does. But that doesn’t matter. Not when all he knows is that that boy is his son, his life, his absolute everything, and he’s running faster than he ever has to tug him away before the lightning strikes.

It’s all he knows.

All he knows is lightning. All he knows is pain. All he knows is that his son is safe.

And then he doesn’t know anything else.

It happens like this.

Sonic feels himself being pulled away. He’s tugged to someone’s chest and for a moment, he can only see dark, feels the cotton of a shirt smashed against his face. He smells aftershave and coffee and the woods outside their backdoor mingling with the awful, burning scent of a lighting strike.

And then Maddie is screaming. And Knuckles is pulling him away. And Tails is sobbing.

And all he can see is his dad, his dad, his dad, his dad.

It happens like this.

Shadow believes he is the only one to ever have experienced loss. But when Sonic turns his eyes to him, he knows that he is wrong.

Green lightning twinges about, crackling and breaking off like shattered glass.

And then a voice; twisted tight.

“You hurt my dad.”

[smallpwbbles]

I DREW this and you somehow managed to give me twice the emotional damage I produced

[social-nobody-2001]

.....good thing I saved this to my drafts

[moosopp-art]

me likey...

[social-nobody-2001]

.....have they ever visited France? Cuz I'd like them to Eifel tower me😏

[skipppppy]

Broke: Giovanni is Ash's father

Woke: Giovanni has mistakenly believed Ash was his hookup mistake for like a decade and is about to get the surprise of the century seeing that not only are they not related, but the employee he fired a few years ago for being too stupid is now living with him and being a more active father than he was

[yamujiburo]

STOPPPPPP THIS IS SO FUNNY

[social-nobody-2001]

[ilikepotatooes-deactivated20250]

Reblog to have the most homoerotic year of your life 2024

[illumineeti]

[moringmark]

[social-nobody-2001]

[keeganbrainmush-deactivated2024]

" I don't always like the things I have to do. " | Miguel O'Hara x male (villain) reader.

Ik he's been through so much, but why not put him through alittle more? Angst NO COMFORT, Unknown identities, identities are eventually discovered. Reader is based off the Prowler, Remember Miguel doesn't have a no killing rule? mhm. Blood and cuts mentioned! 1k words , Male reader , No NSFW mentioned, Minors DNI.

A small click sounded from your clawed glove as you disconnected it from your suit, placing it onto the table lightly as you looked around your base with narrowed eyes. Jesus, was it gloomy in here. You thought to yourself, taking off your mask as you gasped in fresh air.

You could finally go back to your apartment, and live your relatively normal life with your beautiful boyfriend. Aside from the fact you were literally the fucking Prowler. But only when you were called out. You had a debt with your boss, and if you didn't repay it, he'd threaten to hurt you or your loved ones. Yeah, Nueva York criminals were real predictable with their circumstances.

Only thing you'd have to do was work for him as a criminal for the rest of your life which was very likely to be cut short because of your ' job path '.

Wasn't that a pain in the ass?

You suddenly heard a rustle behind you, you instantly tensed up as you quickly pulled your mask down, grabbing ahold of the heavy glove as you clicked it back on as you spun around, meeting your eyes with a muscular man in a blue suit with red markings was sitting on one of the poles, sharp talons digging into the metal to hold himself.

You audibly groaned as you recognized the man who'd been watching you. Spiderman. He man who'd gotten close several times to capture you. God, you hoped this would be one of those times too. " Prowler. How about we make this easy on the both of us and let me take you in without a fight? " He offered, jumping down as his muscles were very clearly tensed as he took steps toward you.

Even if he asked to take you in easily, he knew you weren't gonna do that. " Sorry, Spiderman. I got my own thing to do. " You mumbled, voice distorted, listening to the light whir of your mechanical gloves as you leaped forward, Spiderman moving swiftly to the side as you turned sharply on your heel. " Why can't you leave me the hell alone? " You scoffed, twisting your neck enough for it to crack.

" Its kinda my job to take down criminals, if you didn't know. " He replied snarkily, picking up on the light accent which coated his voice. You stood up straight, nodding your head upward in a " come on, then " motion. You could almost hear the annoyed sigh which came from the stupidly tall man.

Spiderman jumped forward before you could react, grabbing ahold of your throat as he slammed you against the wall, feeling sharp talons against the sides of your throat as you lifted your legs upto his abdomen, kicking him back. He grunted as his claws scrape against your neck, ripping the fabric of your mask that went down to your collarbones as you felt a sharp stinging sensation.

You gasped as you felt blood start to instantly rush out of your cuts, shaking your blood as you focused on the problem infront of you instead of the one on you. ' Asshole. ' You muttered, quietly to yourself. You lunged forward quickly as you dragged your own metal glove across his face as you landed one, two, three punches successfully. Spiderman gasped out, grabbing your wrist before you could punch him a fourth time.

You tried to tug your arm out of his grip, panic starting to settle in the pit of your stomach. Spiderman twisted your arm sharply, feeling your ligament tear as you let out a muffled cry, the distortion making it sound eerie. You looked at the blue and red suited man, your pupils dilated as you used your other arm to cut at his abdomen, long red lines dragging from his chest down to his hip.

He loosed his grip slightly which gave you an opportunity to quickly pull your arm away from him, flinching at the pain before quickly recovering. You stared at Spiderman who was examining his wounds before jumping back at him, rolling for a moment in a struggle before pinning him down. Your fear starting to settle down, your mind instantly starting to fill with rage as you looked down at him, grabbing ahold of his throat before he could get back up, slamming him down against the concrete floor.

Spiderman choked out violently, a cough erupted as the back of his head hit the hard surface, a throbbing sensation starting to form in his head as his vision became fuzzy. You started to claw at his suit aggressively, cuts and scrapes starting to appear on his body before you tightened the grip on Spidermans throat. His chest heaved heavily as you did so, you started to punch at his face instead, small tears starting to form as your metal fist met with his cheek time and time again.

Until there was a hole large enough that you could see an eye.

An eye so painfully familiar.

The eyes that would normally make your heart swell with adoration and with happiness, instead caused your heart to drop.

Was it? It couldn't be. Miguel was at work, your beautiful, adoring boyfriend was at work. He couldn't be the Spiderman you're punching the life out of. Right?

...

Right?

No, it wasn't right. The soft wrinkle in the corner of his eyes when he normally smiled was now crinkled in pain. It was him. It was Miguel O'hara. The man you fell in love with.

You pulled back your hands instantly, panic and worry starting to fill your brain as you cried out, feeling several sharp talons in between the heavy chestplate and the plate which covered your back, digging into your stomach. Letting out shallow breathes as you shakily looked down to the source of the pain, you saw Spidermans, or rather Miguels, claws digging into you, pushing further into you until he was at his second knuckle.

You fell on your side off of him, your legs curling upto your stomach as pain took over your entire body, you glanced at Miguel, watching him flinch as he stood up shakily. ' He's hurt. ' You thought to yourself, trying to make yourself sit up as you took off your glove, holding your bare hand against the stab wound. You sat up against your elbow, looking up at Miguel desperately.

As much pain he was in, he still had his intimidating build, slightly hunched over as he glared down at you. " Are you done yet? " He spat, venom dripping from his voice. You instantly realized the severity of your situation. He didn't know who you were, you just beat the fuck out of him, and he doesn't have a problem with killing. You held your bloody hand out shakily up to him, signaling him to wait, stopping him in his tracks.

You slowly brought a hand to press a button on your voice changer, bringing it back to your normal voice. " Miguel. " You groaned quietly in pain, moving back to apply pressure on the wound. Just as yours did, his heart dropped. He let out a small gasp, the voice was shaky and obviously not the same as you sounded when you were happy, but it sounded like it was you. Was it?

He instantly slid down to his knees at your side, taking off your mask as his heart pounded so hard he was sure you could hear it too. Much to his misfortune, it was you. Miguel took his own mask off, bruises and cuts were scattered all over, but his focus was no longer on his pain. He cradled you in his arms, resting your back against his forearm.

" Hey, hey (Name). Mírame. You're gonna be okay, I promise. Fuck, I'm sorry. " He apologized, worry coating his words. You only looked at him with hazy eyes, nodding as best you could. Yeah, you were definitely bleeding out. You concluded, looking at the puddle of blood on the floor. " I'm gonna get you to a hospital, Love. Just hang on. " He ordered, gulping as he put his mask back on, picking you up bridal style.

How did he always manage to hurt the ones he loved?

[gnreadergames]

Find Something to Wrap Your Noose Around (pt 1)

Miguel O’Hara x gn!reader

Plot: Miguel gets tapped with a poison that makes him feral. His relationship with the reader is a stake…but neither want to give up that easily.

Cw: Angst! It gets better in later parts though…

WC: 2820

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

There was a harsh slam from the front of the apartment.

From your place in the back bedroom, folding fresh laundry, you jumped. Miguel must be home. He must’ve had a bad day.

Lyla confirms your suspicions when she pops up next to you, giving you half as large of a scare.

“Jesu-“ you clutch your heart, “Lyla you can’t ju- whatever- is he alright?” You ask, quietly as you can because you know Miguel will pick up anything he can focus on across this apartment and even through the walls with his heightened senses.

Lyla shakes her head, and your stomach drops. He’s either pissed or hurt. Or both.

You abandon the laundry to seek a more important goal.

You find Miguel clutching the kitchen island. His knuckles are torn through the suit, something hard to do with the nearly impenetrable fabric. You can see other tears littering the surface of his torso and powerful legs. You swallow.

It’s never usually this bad.

“Miggy…” you say, quietly. “What happened honey?”

He doesn’t respond so you decide to gently, slowly reach a hand out to touch his shoulder. But before you can even make contact he whips around towards you and leaps with a feral snarl.

“MIGUE-“ you can’t even get through the scream of his name before he’s on top of you, red eyes glowing and fangs popping out even longer than they usually seem. His talons sink into your thin flesh and for a minute you genuinely think you’re about to die, here on the floor of Miguel’s kitchen on some average Tuesday.

Lyla has thought ahead though, and at that moment a light flashes in your peripherals a swirling portal of blue and orange. Before you can turn to look, the weight of Miguel is thrown off you to the side and a loud crack echoes across the apartment as his back meets the side of the island with a harsh dent.

Three people hop out of, what you can only assume, is a portal.

A tall man with brown hair, a 5 o'clock shadow and a small red headed child strapped to his chest, a very pretty very pregnant taller woman, and a smaller girl with blonde choppy hair all fold out in a line.

You’re still not sure what’s happening, and your brain is on too much adrenaline to think of anything other than the immediate danger right now.

Somehow, your sweet, caring, and sometimes grumpy boyfriend has become some sort of…feral killing machine.

You realize suddenly that you’re practically hyperventilating as Lyla stands over you and snaps a few times, calling your name.

“Y/N…Y/N!” She says. Her glowing form is painful to look at right now but not as painful as the shallow cuts on your arms from Miguel’s claws. You belatedly realize you’re bleeding when the younger blonde woman comes over and crouches beside Lyla to inspect your arms.

“Peter, they’re bleeding.” She calls back to the man, Peter, you assume. You glance in that direction to see him and the other woman standing over Miguel.

“What's happen-“ you try to sit up but your head spins.

‘Minorly concussed’ Lyla explains. Which also explains why you’re pretty sure you’re seeing other Spider-people right now.

Unless everything has just suddenly gotten weird.

It seems it can only keep getting worse though, as it’s then you realize that Miguel could be getting back up any minute. You turn your head sharply with a twinge of hot pain up your neck as your heart rate spikes at the thought of the experience you just had happening again.

Your fears are quelled though once you see that Peter and the other woman, Jess, you learn from the blonde one talking to her too, have Miguel in some sort of cuff like contraption he struggles against.

He’s also muzzled. You’d almost laugh if he hadn’t tried to kill you a few minutes ago.

The baby on Peter’s chest babbles and yeah, you’re definitely seeing things now because this is just so bizzare you can’t imagine how you had gotten dragged into this.

Suddenly, a large and lanky man with a scary looking Mohawk of spikes steps through the still glowing circle in your wall.

Lovely. More of them.

Peter and the man talk for a second and then you see the scary man look towards you.

No. No.

Whatever is about to happen you’re not on board with it as this strange man hoists you bridal style like you weigh nothing. You’d attempt to fight back if you had any strength left in you, but the further you get towards the glowing portal the more your brain begs for sleep.

As the man steps through, you drift off into a dream.

-

You wake with a start.

The first thing you notice is that your headache is much, much, worse. The second thing is that you are pointedly not in your own apartment.

You were hoping the thing with Miguel was just some sort of fucked up bad dream but judging by your bandaged arms and throbbing temples, it was all real.

The blonde woman is sitting in the corner of the room, a white and sterile looking place that you’d assume to be a hospital room if you couldn’t see an absolute amalgamation of spidermen, just like Miguel, milling about outside the glass wall on your left.

Your jaw drops.

What is happening.

Are you suddenly crazy? Have you seriously gone mad? This has to be some sort of psych ward if this is what your brain is coming up with.

The blonde woman notices your consciousness. She has another young man with curly hair beside her, a similar age you guess from their similar build and height.

“Hi, how are you feeling?” She asks as she stands from a chair and walks to your bedside.

“Am I going insane?” You ask.

She blanches at that, obviously not expecting it.

“Um- no you’re not. This is all real. My name is Gwen and this is-“ she gestures to the boy, “Miles. We’re assigned to watch over you until you wake up and are feeling better.”

You swallow. That explains almost nothing.

“But- what is this place?” You look back out the window.

“Oh! This is HQ.” Gwen says, like that means anything to you.

“HQ for what?” You say.

That seems to make it click for Gwen. “You mean…Miguel didn’t tell you?” She quirks an eyebrow seemingly genuinely confused that Miguel wouldn’t share his involvement in…whatever this is.

“No- no he hasn’t mentioned anything. I mean, I know he’s Spider-Man but there’s like- a million of you…” you drift off, shifting to sit up in your bed.

Miles laughs from behind Gwen. She shoots him a look and he blushes looking down at his feet.

“Well not a million but- yeah there’s a lot.” She says. “This is HQ for the spider-multiverse.”

“The what?” You ask, still confused.

“You know what let me just-“ she sighs and pulls up a watch on her wrist. It’s identical to the one Miguel used to wear around his arm back home. He’d always been shady about it but now you know why.

“Lyla, help me out here will you?” She asks into the watch. The familiar glowing figure pops up and it sends such a pant for homesickness into your heart that you almost want to cry. She’s an island of normalcy in a horrible sea of crazy right now.

“Hi, Y/N!” She greets in her constantly chipper voice.

“Hi…” you repeat. Gwen slips the watch off her wrist and holds it out to you. Gently, you clutch it in your hands as Lyla explains the many, many, thousands of worlds and Spider people in them. The information is shocking enough but most jarring is the fact that Miguel has been running it all almost 24/7.

You knew nothing about this.

For a brief, fleeting moment you feel slightly betrayed. He didn’t trust you with this, so what else could he be lying about?

But then you remember where you left off with him. A spike of fear shoots up your aching spine.

“So where’s Miguel?” You ask frantically, looking between Gwen, Lyla, and Miles for an answer. None of them seem to have one for you.

“Let me get ahold of Peter…” Gwen says as she lifts the watch out of your hands. You twiddle your thumbs nervously, the movement of the muscles sending tiny waves of pain up your arms.

Gwen finishes whatever call she turned to make with this Peter guy and spins back around.

“So, this is going to sound weird.”

You laugh.

“This entire day has practically flipped my world upside down. Hit me.” You deadpan. Miles laughs again but Gwen huffs a snort with him this time.

“So, currently Miguel is being held in our prison sector.”

Your heart drops.

“Why? Is he okay?” You shoot off questions faster than she can answer as you sit further and further up in the bed.

Gwen holds her hand up to slow you down and you take the signal, snapping your mouth closed.

“Ok, well here’s what I know.” She starts. “Miguel got some sort of poison from his last battle. It reacted badly with his DNA that’s part Spider and he’s currently pretty feral. That’s why he attacked you. They have him in an impenetrable cell in the holding area and he’s been muzzled for his own safety.”

You cannot believe this.

Those scratches, they must’ve been really really bad to cut through his suit like that. That must’ve been why he had come home in such a foul mood, he wasn’t thinking straight.

He must’ve been out of his mind completely when he attacked you.

“They’re working on an antidote, hopefully it’ll be ready soon.” Gwen says with a small smile. It does little to cure your nerves but it’s still nice of her to try.

Miles pipes up finally from behind her. His voice is soothing.

“We can take you to see him.” Miles says.

Gwen really does shoot him a look then. You giggle to yourself. It reminds you so much of you and Miguel’s relationship. If these two aren’t together they probably will be soon, you think.

“I’d like that.” You say, standing from your bed.

-

They were right. Miguel isn’t himself.

He’s huddled up in the furthest corner of the red block. The cell borders are reinforced, so you don’t fear much when you walk up to crouch next to the front wall.

Miguel smells you or senses you, something along those lines, because the minute you rest on the balls of your feet, his head swivels like a snake around to fix you in that terrible red gaze.

His eyes are practically glowing as he barrels towards the wall you’re at and slams his full body weight into it. His talons are out, clawing furiously and futilely at the screen. If this cage was even half as sturdy as it currently is Miguel would’ve killed you by now.

You can’t imagine what would make him act like this, even if his primal instincts are being tapped into. You’re his partner. Surely even in such a state Miguel would recognize you?

Apparently not, as Miguel also attempts to bite at you through both the muzzle and the wall. You sigh.

There’s something cold and unsettling about seeing him this way. He’s barely ever gotten angry at you, has never once blown up on you and it’s absolutely unfathomable that he would ever lay a hand on you. So now, seeing this side of him, it breaks your heart.

“He’s a little crazy right now.” A man’s voice says from behind you. You look up from where you’re sitting cross legged on the ground to see the same man from before, Peter, standing with his hands gently bouncing the smiling baby in front of him.

You can’t help but smile as the little girl lets out a joyous giggle, even as Miguel still tries to claw his way to you from inside the cage. You’re glad it’s soundproof, you’d probably have to leave if it wasn’t.

“You know him?” You ask. Peter takes his cue and sits next to you with a groan as he saddles his body down into the same position. You feel that same sensation, painful joints and now painful muscles with your injuries. You can’t imagine throwing the exhaustion of a kid into the mix.

You won’t lie though, you had thought about it. Miguel had mentioned a hypothetical child once or twice, but you could tell it was something he wanted more than anything. And before all of this, you would’ve given him what he asked for in a heartbeat. Seeing Miguel as a dad would’ve made you the happiest person in the world.

“Yeah I know him.” Peter finally answers your question. “I’m like his right hand man. Or I was at least. Maybe his left hand man now that I have this one,” he tickles the soft tummy of the girl and she cackles with glee. You smile at them.

“He never mentioned any of this.” You say.

“He never mentioned you.” Peter says.

That breaks your heart a little, but you don’t let it show.

On the other side of the screen Miguel has seemingly given up on trying to kill you, at least for now. Tiring himself out seems to have mellowed him slightly as he now sits eye level with you, panting and crouching in anticipation.

You sigh.

“How long will he be stuck like this?” You ask. You don’t expect an exact answer, not wanting to get your hopes up.

“I…I don’t know. We shouldn’t have let him go home like that. It was our fault you got hurt. Jess and I-“ he must mean the other woman you surmise “-we thought he lived alone, and even though he doesn’t get cut often we had no idea the anomaly could do that.”

“You couldn’t have known.” You say, trying to comfort him a little, even though you feel slightly hollow.

“We’re working on it though. We’re gonna fix this.” Peter says with a new determination. You smile half heartedly. He stands suddenly, renewed with more energy than he sat down with. “I’m going to go check on that antidote. You’re a little better right?” He gestures to your arms.

You nod. It’s the best you can give him in this situation.

He nods back and walks towards a large hallway opening.

You turn back to Miguel.

The area in which they have him housed is empty and large. His cage stands in the back part of the room. As far as you can tell, it’s just you two now.

Your arms still hurt, but your head has gotten better with some walking and Tylenol.

“Miggy…” you sigh. There’s so much built up stress just from the past few hours that it makes your entire body tense. You lean forward and place your hand on the glass-like substance.

Miguel’s eyes flick quickly to it and for a second you see a look on his face that seems almost like himself again.

It shocks you when he puts his hand back up to the glass mirroring yours.

You tear up.

“Miguel.” You beg. “Please, please come back.”

He doesn’t seem to understand, and the moment passes, as he licks his fangs through the muzzle. His talons pop out and he begins clawing where your hand just was again. You sigh.

It was worth a shot.

You stand, pushing yourself up of the ground. “Okay, we’ll- if you’re like this there’s no point in me being here.”

You turn to leave, maybe you can find Gwen and ask her to get you some food. You have a suspicion you’re going to need more Tylenol to-

“Y/N-“ a ragged voice says from behind you.

You whip around.

Miguel, your Miguel stares back at you. His eyes are wide and terrified but it’s definitely him even if it is for just a split second.

As quick as it’s there, it’s gone. Whatever is overriding his system comes back with vigor as you race towards the cage and press yourself desperately against the glass.

“Say it again- Miguel, please, say it again-“ You are breathy and panicked. He’s in there. Somewhere.

Miguel, the feral one, continues to paw at where you stand with his nails.

“I’m going to get you out.” You press your forehead up against the glass and look into his eyes.

There’s a sound from behind you and Gwen’s voice echoes from the doorway.

“Hungry?” She asks as you quickly pull away.

“Absolutely.” You say, following her.

As you leave you glance backward. Miguel stands, watching you leave.

You’re going to get him back, even if it kills you.

[myastoners]

and so it goes (miguel o’hara x spiderman!reader)

hi note this is a fic specifically for transmasc readers. don’t come anywhere near this if you’re a cis woman. you have a million fics you can read that aren’t this one. thank you 🍻

@spokentothewoods here you go ☺️

WARNINGS: Angst, slightly sexual situations >:)

That ever-present tenseness is visible in his shoulders; in truth, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him without it, for as many years as you’ve been working with him. You’ve been working late tonight and could really use a break yourself, but with Jess away for an ultrasound, someone had to stay behind and keep an eye on Miguel.

Perhaps you volunteered for the job a tad too hastily, if the smirk Hobie had flashed in your direction was any indication, but Hobie’s always smirking at things. You’ve gotten pretty used to it.

In any case, even Margo’s signed off for the night. You know Miguel’s the Big Boss In Charge, but…couldn’t he benefit from some chill time?

“That’s it,” you say, yawning. “That’s the last of the logs done. Think I’ll turn in for the night.”

Miguel says nothing. He either is so immersed in his work that he didn’t hear you, or he’s ignoring you - both are likely in their own way.

After a moment’s more of silence, you frown, and web yourself up to his platform. He’s always brooding, that’s pretty normal, but…

Oh, you realize, because you recognize the video footage he’s watching. You’ve never seen it yourself, but you know what it is, where Miguel came from. You know why he is the way that he is.

You contemplate leaving and pretending you saw nothing, but then Miguel turns his head and fixes you with his dark, exhausted eyes, and it’s too late to act innocent.

“Sorry,” you say quietly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. You just…”

“What.” He phrases the word as a statement, not a question. “I just what.”

You sigh. “I worry about you, Miguel. I mean, when you first found me in my universe…you were sad, sure, but you weren’t this angry. I don’t know what changed, but if you ever need to talk…”

“I don’t.” His stare is fixed somewhere past your shoulder, his jaw hard as steel. “Nothing changed. I’m fine.”

“Oh, bullshit,” you tell him, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. “How long have we known each other? I know when you’re lying to me.”

Miguel shakes his head. He’s been working with Jess the longest and all the Spiders respect him as their leader, but he’s never gotten as close to anyone as he has to you. You know this because he told you so himself, a year ago when MJ was killed and you were stumbling around HQ in a haze, the big empty pit in your stomach threatening to swallow you whole.

We all lose people, he’d told you, his voice the gentlest you’d ever heard it. But we persevere. You’re strong, Y/N. You can survive this.

I bet you tell all the Spiders they’re your favorite, you’d joked half-heartedly, desolate and depressed, sure you were right. But Miguel had given you this look that had told you plainly: I am completely serious. And then he’d started to say something, stopped as if he’d thought better of himself, and swung away.

You don’t know what he’d been about to tell you…though maybe you kind of do. The pair of you have never necessarily been the emotionally vulnerable types, but the connection between you is one that cannot be denied.

“I’m fine,” he’s repeating now, still hiding from the truth. “Just tired.”

“Which is exactly why you should call it for the night. You’ve done plenty.”

“I haven’t done enough.”

“Look, just…” You exhale deeply, pull off your mask so you can meet him eye-to-eye. You don’t miss the slight change in his demeanor when you bare your face, the fleeting look of quick relief. “Do you…want a massage or something?”

He blinks. “What.”

“I asked if you wanted a - “

“I heard you.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Ok. So? Your shoulders could really use it, dude.”

“I…” You can pinpoint the exact moment he decides to give in, posture slumped and scowl deepening. “…Fine.”

He turns back to face the screens - thankfully, the video from before is long gone. Miguel says nothing for a long time, ‘til he finally snaps, “Well?”

You lay your hands on his shoulders. You’re no trained masseuse, but your Aunt May does a wicked back rub and you’re sure you can replicate her technique, more or less. And so you try.

Are all shoulder muscles this knotted? Or is Miguel just overworking himself per usual? You’re not sure, but you press as hard as you dare, first with your fingertips, then kneading in and out with your knuckles. Miguel is silent as you work. The only sound he makes is the measured course of his breathing, up-down, up-down, up-down. You can feel it thrumming through your neurons, slow and steady.

“What, sorry?” You didn’t catch what Miguel just mumbled under his breath.

“Can you - go harder?” he repeats, practically spitting the words. He sounds as exhausted as you’ve ever heard him.

Wordlessly, you begin to apply even more pressure, and Miguel moans. You’ve never heard him make a noise like that before, and in your shock, you start and almost back away from him entirely. You manage to keep your wits, though, and you press again in the same spot, feeling the knot aching to unravel beneath his skin.

“Y/N,” he groans - but before you can begin to wrap your head around that, Miguel’s body is freezing up under your fingertips, and suddenly, he’s wrenching himself away from you.

“Woah - you ok?” You drop your hands to dangle by your hips, but you can still feel the buzz in your head, concentrated and slightly painful like a migraine, a hit off a cigarette.

“You should go,” Miguel says quietly, his back to you. “This…you should just go.”

“Ok.” You’re finding it hard to breathe, beneath all the spandex and bindings and confusion. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

“Then what the hell is the prob - “

“GO, Y/N,” Miguel seethes, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. “Just leave me alone.”

You scowl. “Fine.” Pulling your mask down over your face again, you shoot a strand of web over in the opposite direction, pull yourself through the air until you land against the wall and cling there. “Fine, Miguel. Whatever you want. As usual.”

If he looks back at you as you leave, you don’t know. At the moment, you’re too hurt and angry to waste another thought on him.

[memingursa-deactivated20250625]

[social-nobody-2001]

No like deadass. I expected the bs from Miguel, but JESSICA?!??

[bxnnmoon]

–Well I knew that i can't never compete with you one true love...

I LOVE THIS SCENE IN PIB 2

Without the text<3

[social-nobody-2001]

[scallopsandmash-deactivated2023]

damn,,, these allegations got hands

[social-nobody-2001]

[shrimparted]

some musings about waffles' origins....

bonus:

[social-nobody-2001]

[bloodraven55]

SUMMER AND RAVEN INTERACTING? ON MY SCREEN?? IN 2023??? I’M GOING FERAL—

[social-nobody-2001]

Putting the milf battle aside, did anyone connect any dots between the spring maiden and summer rose??

Like how Raven sent the spring maiden on a mission that she couldn't handle, and how Summer went on a mission for/with Raven and never returned?????

[shoukohime]

[astraskylark]

I love that they did this

[social-nobody-2001]