#menchichew

[menchichew]

Nanami puts your bratty ass in its place. ౨ৎ

CONTENT: 18+ (MDNI) Brat Taming, Impact Play (Spanking) Object Play, Bondage, Degradation / Humiliation, Rough Sex, Hair Pulling, Wall Sex, Cum Play, Forced Oral, Hair Pulling, Mean nanami!! (he praises a lil bit tho)

WC: 2.5k!

PARING: Dom!NanamiKento x Bratty!FemReader

The air conditioning in the mall was doing a piss-poor job of fighting against the summer heat, and you were determined to make sure Nanami Kento knew every single degree of your discomfort. It started small. A sigh here, a pointed glance at your watch there. You were "browsing" in a department store, trailing your fingers over fabrics you had no intention of buying, just to make him stand there longer.

"Kento, are you even listening to me?" you whined, holding up a frankly hideous floral blouse. "This would look so much better if the pattern was just... slightly different. The designers here have no vision."

He hummed, a low, noncommittal sound in his chest, his eyes scanning the racks with practiced disinterest. "It's fine, darling." His voice was flat, devoid of its usual warmth.

That wasn't the reaction you wanted. You wanted him to agree, to engage, to tell you you were right. So you escalated.

You grabbed his tie, tugging him towards a rack of brightly colored dresses. "Come on, let's look over here. This section is so much better. That other one was for old people." You let go of his tie only to loop your arm through his, practically dragging him along. "Don't you think this one is cute? Or maybe this one? Ugh, no, the neckline is all wrong. Why is it so hard to find anything good in this place?"

He simply stood there, a monument of patience, allowing you to manhandle him from one section to another. You draped a scratchy wool sweater over his shoulders. "Try this on. It'll look good with your eyes." He didn't even move to take it off, just stood there with the ugly sweater on until you snatched it back with a huff, complaining about the poor quality.

You dragged him to three different shoe stores, complaining about the lack of arch support in every single pair you tried on, even the ones you didn't actually try. You made a big show of your feet hurting, poking him in the arm repeatedly. "Kento. Kento. My feet hurt. Are you even listening? My feet are killing me. We have to go sit down." You pouted, leaning your entire body weight against him, forcing him to steady you with a hand on your lower back. His expression remained unreadable. When you stopped for food court pretzels, you spent ten minutes complaining that yours was too salty while his was, apparently, too bland, and you stole half of his just to prove a point.

"I just don't understand why we had to come today," you sighed dramatically, flopping down on a bench and grabbing his hand to play with his fingers, pulling them one by one. "It's so crowded. And I'm tired. My feet hurt. And now I'm thirsty. And this bench is uncomfortable."

Without a word, he got up, bought you a bottle of water from a nearby kiosk, and handed it to you. He didn't say a thing. Just sat back down and let you resume your fidgeting with his hand.

The silence was unnerving. Normally, by now, he would have gently chided you. "Now, now, let's not be difficult," or "Perhaps we should head home soon if you're feeling this unwell." But today? Nothing. He was a handsome, stoic statue in a well-tailored shirt, and it was driving you insane. Your bitching was a performance, and he wasn't even in the audience.

The car ride home was your last chance. You turned the air vents directly at your face and complained it was too cold. You pointed out every driver who cut you off, narrating their perceived failings with colorful, unnecessary language. You even found fault with the radio station, changing the station every ten seconds. "No, I hate this song. This one's annoying. Ooh, I like this one... wait, no, it gets boring after a while." Through it all, Nanami just gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, his jaw set in a hard line. He didn't engage. He didn't argue. He just drove.

A knot of dread, mixed with a thrilling, sickening anticipation, began to form in your stomach. You had poked the bear, and the bear wasn't roaring. It was waiting.

When he finally pulled into the garage, the silence that fell was heavier than lead. He killed the engine but didn't move. You sat there, fidgeting, the confidence from your mall tirade evaporating.

"Kento...?" you started softly.

"Get inside," he said. His voice was low, a rumble of thunder that promised a storm. It wasn't a request.

You scrambled out of the car and into the house, your heart hammering against your ribs. You heard the door shut, the lock click into place with terrifying finality. You turned to face him in the entryway, and the man looking back at you was not your sweet, patient Kento. This was someone else. Someone colder.

"All day," he said, his voice dangerously quiet as he stalked towards you. He shrugged off his suit jacket, draping it neatly over a chair, a gesture so at odds with the predatory look in his eyes. "You have been whining. Complaining. Acting like a spoiled, ungrateful little brat."

You opened your mouth to retort, to defend yourself, but he held up a hand.

"No. You wanted my attention. You wanted a reaction. You were determined to poke and prod until you got one. Well," he stepped closer, backing you against the wall, his body radiating a heat that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with intent, "now you have it."

He was so close you could feel the fabric of his shirt against your chest. "Go to the bedroom. Take off everything but your panties. And get on the bed. On your hands and knees."

Your legs felt like jelly, but you obeyed, a mixture of fear and exhilaration propelling you forward. You did as he said, the cool air of the bedroom raising goosebumps on your skin. You waited, your position vulnerable, your ass in the air, listening to the sounds of him moving around in the other room. You heard a soft thwack sound, like leather being picked up. When he returned, your blood ran cold.

In his hand was his cleaver. Not the blunt one, but the one with the sharpened edge, the dull steel gleaming menacingly in the low light. He wasn't holding it like a weapon, but like an instrument.

"You wanted to whine all day?" he murmured, coming to stand behind you. He ran the flat, cool side of the blade over the curve of your ass, and you shivered violently. "You wanted to annoy the hell out of me, huh?" He raised the blade. "Go ahead. Where's all that whining now?"

CRACK!

The sound was a sharp, stinging slap of wood against flesh. It wasn't the metal, but the flat, hard back of the cleaver. It hurt. It hurt so much more than a hand. A sharp cry escaped your lips before you could bite it back.

He fisted a hand in your hair, yanking your head back. "Did I say you could make a sound?" he growled. "No. We're going to count. And if you make a noise, we start over. One."

CRACK!

"Two." Your voice was a strained whisper, tears already pricking the corners of your eyes.

CRACK!

"Three!" you gasped, your whole body jolting. He was merciless. Each spank was precise, hard, and delivered without a hint of his usual gentleness. He held you in place by your hair, his other hand wielding the cleaver with brutal efficiency. You were fighting back tears, your ass on fire, knowing that if you let one sob escape, this torment would never end. By the time he reached ten, you were a trembling, whimpering mess, your skin burning and your pussy throbbing with a confusing, traitorous ache.

He tossed the cleaver onto the nightstand. You felt the bed dip as he knelt behind you. His fingers, rough and calloused, trailed down your spine, over your burning cheeks, and then slid between your legs. He pressed against the soaked fabric of your panties.

"Well, well," he chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "Look at this. Soaking wet for me. You're a filthy little slut, aren't you? Is this what you wanted all day? To be punished? To be treated like the naughty girl you've been?"

You couldn't answer, just buried your face in the sheets as he ripped your panties off. There was no prep. No gentle fingers stretching you, no loving words. He lined himself up and slammed into you in one brutal thrust.

You screamed. It was a mix of pain and overwhelming pleasure as he filled you completely, stretching you to your limit. He wasn't making love to you; he was fucking you. His hips pistoned against you, hard and deep, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing lewdly in the room. Your body, the traitor, sucked him in, your walls clenching around him as if trying to keep him there.

You tried to crawl away, to escape the intense, almost painful stimulation, but his hands clamped onto your hips like vices, holding you in place. "Oh no, you don't," he grunted, his voice thick with exertion. "You wanted this. You're going to take it."

Tears started to fall in earnest now, hot and silent tracks down your cheeks. "M’ssorry," you sobbed, your words slurring as he drove into you relentlessly. "Kento, I'm sorry! I just... I just wanted attention..."

He let out a dark laugh, leaning over your back, his chest pressing you down into the mattress. "Well, now you have it," he whispered against your ear. "Pleasee..," you whimpered, your hands fisting the sheets. "S’too much... Kento, can’t-" "You wanted this," he grunted, his pace never faltering. "You wanted me to stop being nice. Take it." He kept pounding into you, his rhythm punishing, his cock hitting that deep, sensitive spot inside you over and over again until your vision blurred. Your hands gripped the sheets so tightly your knuckles were white, drool escaping the corner of your mouth as you were fucked completely senseless.

Suddenly, he pulled out, leaving you feeling achingly empty. "No...baby, don't stop," you pleaded, your voice a pathetic whine.

Before you could process it, he flipped you over with a strength that left you breathless. He reached down, his fingers deftly undoing the knot in his tie—the very same silk you'd been yanking and playing with all day. Your eyes widened as he grabbed your wrists, pulling them together above your head. "W-what are you doing?" you gasped, a thrill of fear shooting through you.

He wrapped the tie around them with practiced, efficient movements, the silk cool and firm against your skin. He tied a knot that you knew, without a doubt, you couldn't escape.

"That tie you couldn't keep your hands off?" he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Now it's keeping your hands where they belong."

He hauled you up, his arm wrapping around your neck in a firm but not crushing headlock, his other hand grabbing your thigh and hooking it around his hip. He entered you again in one swift, brutal stroke, standing at the edge of the bed and fucking up into you with deep, powerful strokes that made your bound wrists strain.

"Look at you," he breathed in your ear, his voice a low, degrading rasp. "Taking my cock so well. Such a good little whore for me, aren't you?" He bit down on the shell of your ear, then soothed it with his tongue. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be held down and used like the little brat you are."

"Yes," you choked out, the word torn from your throat. "yes, yes...sir"

Your body was a live wire, every nerve ending alight with a mixture of pain and pleasure so intense it was indistinguishable. The angle was devastating, hitting you deep inside with every thrust. "K-kento! Haah…fuck" you screamed as your first orgasm ripped through you without warning, a violent, clenching wave that stole your breath and made you arch your back. He didn't stop. If anything, he fucked you harder, chasing his own release as your body trembled and convulsed around him.

He pulled out again, and before you could even whimper at the loss, he was lifting you. "No, wait, I can't—" you protested, your legs trembling.

His hands gripped your thighs, hoisting you up as if you weighed nothing. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your bound wrists trapped between your chests. He slammed you against the bedroom wall, the impact knocking the air from your lungs. He drove back into you, pinning you to the wall with his body as he fucked the absolute shit out of you. The new angle was even more intense, his cock pounding into you with a primal, desperate rhythm. Your head fell back against the wall, your mouth open in a silent scream as a second, more powerful orgasm shattered through you, leaving you a babbling, sobbing mess. "I can't...can't anymore..."

You felt him tense, his rhythm faltering as he buried himself deep inside you with a guttural groan. You felt the hot, thick flood of his cum filling you, pulsing against your sensitive walls. He stayed there for a moment, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you breathing heavily.

But he wasn't done.

He pulled out, letting you slide down the wall just enough to stand on wobbly legs. He pushed you to your knees. "Open your mouth," he commanded, his voice rough and raw.

You obeyed, looking up at him with tear-filled, hazy eyes. He stroked his cock, still slick with your combined juices, right in front of your face. With a low groan, he came again, thick ropes of his hot cum painting your face—across your cheeks, your lips, your nose. It was filthy, degrading, and it made your pussy clench with a final, weak aftershock.

"Lick it up," he ordered, his voice soft but leaving no room for argument. "Every last drop. Don't waste it."

You stuck out your tongue, gathering the salty, bitter fluid from your lips, your eyes locked on his. "Good girl," he praised, his thumb stroking your cheek. He watched you, his gaze intense and possessive, as you cleaned his release from your face, a final act of submission that sealed your punishment. You had wanted his attention, and you had received all of it.

He looked down at you, kneeling on the floor, a trembling, tear-stained mess. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a glint of satisfaction. He reached down, his fingers gently tilting your chin up.

"Have you learned your lesson?"

You just sat there, trembling violently, a fresh wave of tears welling up. You couldn't form a coherent sentence, only a stream of broken, breathy apologies. "S-sorry... I'm so sorry, Kento... I'm sorry... I'll be good... I promise..." You nodded your head frantically, over and over, the motion jerky and pathetic. The words tumbled out of your mouth, a jumbled mantra of regret as you looked up at him, completely and utterly broken in.

Tiny taglist: @ancientunikorn @massivelystupidlevisimp @pinkrsposts

Menchichew™ 2026. Please DO NOT copy, feed my works to Al, reconstruct, or repost on any other platform ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

[menchichew]

Heianera!sukuna finds your sudden boldness intriguing <3

PAIRING: Heianera!sukuna x Fem!Reader

CW: 2.8k

CONTENT: 18+ MDNI, fingering, cumplay (sorta) softkuna, petnames (brat) (puppy), very shy reader, size difference obvi

The first time you saw him in his true form, you nearly collapsed.

Four arms. Two mouths, one on his stomach, grinning with jagged teeth. Eyes that burned like coals in the dark, fixed on you with predatory amusement. He had been sealed away for centuries, and when he emerged, you were waiting. Bound by an ancient contract written in blood long before your birth, you were to be his. His bride. His possession.

For weeks, you had been nothing more than a shadow in his domain. Skittering away when he entered a room, pressing yourself against walls to make yourself smaller, smaller, ..invisible. You cooked his meals in silence, laid out his robes with trembling hands, and slept on the farthest edge of the futon, body rigid with fear.

You were a lost puppy, and he was the master whose temper you couldn't predict.

Sukuna found it amusing at first. The way your breath hitched when he moved too quickly. How your eyes darted away from his chest, scarred and carved with those sinister markings. He would catch you staring sometimes, and you would flinch like he'd struck you.

But something had shifted these past few days. A strange warmth had settled in your chest, watching him train in the courtyard, his four arms moving in devastating synchrony. The way power coiled in his muscles, ancient and terrible and beautiful. You found yourself noticing things…the sharp line of his jaw, the way his extra arms moved with deliberate grace, the heat that radiated from his skin.

You were still afraid. But now, you were also curious.

Tonight, you made a decision.

The bathhouse steamed with heat, the water scented with oils that made your head swim. Sukuna was already there when you entered, submerged to his chest, his four arms resting along the stone edge like some pagan deity carved from violence and flesh. His eyes opened slowly as you approached, tracking your every movement.

You wore nothing but a thin robe, and your fingers trembled as you untied it, letting it fall.

His gaze didn't waver. Those crimson eyes dragged down your body, unashamed and hungry, before returning to your face.

You stepped into the water, wincing at the heat, and moved to the opposite side. For a moment, you simply sat there, heart hammering against your ribs, gathering your courage. He was massive even sitting down—broad shoulders that could block out the sun, arms corded with strength, and beneath the water's surface...

You had caught glimpses before. Accidental encounters. The way his loincloth did little to hide what lay beneath. But now, with the water clear and steaming around him, you could see the outline of not one, but two substantial lengths, heavy and thick against his thigh.

Your mouth went dry. Your face burned.

Two.

You forced yourself to move, wading through the water until you reached his side. Sukuna watched you with an unreadable expression, one eyebrow raised in something between curiosity and amusement. When you hesitantly settled beside him, your shoulder barely brushing his bicep, he didn't speak. Didn't move away.

Emboldened by his silence, you slowly leaned into him.

Your cheek found the hard plane of his shoulder. His skin was fever-hot against yours, slick with water and steam. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he went still as stone beneath your touch.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Then, a low rumble vibrated through his chest. "What are you doing, my little wife?"

His voice was gravel and smoke, rough enough to make you shiver. You squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassment flooding through you. "I... I don't know. I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't apologize." His hand—one of his upper hands—lifted from the water's edge and settled on your knee beneath the surface. His fingers were massive, calloused from centuries of combat, rough against your soft skin. "You're trembling."

"I know." You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look up at him. His face was turned toward you now, close enough that you could see every scar, every line, the sharp cut of his smirk. "I'm trying. To not be afraid."

"Are you still afraid?"

"Yes." You bit your lip, heat pooling low in your belly as his thumb traced circles on your inner thigh. "But I also... I want..."

He waited, patient in the way only ancient curses could be patient. Infinite and predatory.

"I've been watching you," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "You're... you're beautiful. Terrifying. But beautiful. And I want to be closer. I want to be yours, truly. Not just in name."

Something shifted in his expression. The amusement deepened, became something darker, more dangerous. His second upper hand joined the first, both of them gripping your thighs and spreading them slightly, opening you to the warm water and his gaze.

"Is that so?" He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You've been avoiding my gaze for weeks, flinching when I move, sleeping on the edge of the bed like I'll devour you in your sleep."

"You might," you breathed.

"I might," he agreed, and there was a promise in those words that made your core clench. "But not tonight. Tonight, you're offering yourself. And I accept.

His mouth found yours, and it was nothing like you expected. Not brutal or demanding, but slow. Deliberate. He kissed like he had all the time in the world, like he was savoring the taste of your surrender. His tongue swept past your lips, claiming every inch, while his hands—those rough, calloused hands—roamed your body with devastating precision.

You melted into him, whimpering as he pulled you into his lap. The water lapped around your waists, and you could feel him now—both of him, hard and thick against your stomach, twin weights that made your head spin.

"Eyes up here, brat," he chuckled against your mouth, catching you staring again. "Greedy little thing. like what you see?"

You nodded, unable to form words, and he laughed a rich, dark sound that vibrated through your bones.

"Good. Because you're going to take all of it. Both of them. I'm going to stretch you so wide you'll feel empty without me inside you."

Your whine was cut off by his kiss, deeper now, hungrier. His lower hands joined the fray, one gripping your hip with bruising strength while the other tangled in your wet hair, tilting your head back to expose your throat.

He bit you there, at the junction of neck and shoulder, and you cried out as pain flared bright and hot. But his tongue soothed the wound immediately, lapping at the bead of blood that welled up, and the sight of him…Sukuna, the King of Curses, drinking your blood like it was the most divine gift he’s ever received, it sent a bolt of arousal straight to your core.

"You taste sweet," he growled against your skin, licking his lips. The red stained his mouth, obscene and perfect. "My little pet. My pretty puppy, finally coming to her master. Look at you, shaking and wet and needy. Is this what you wanted?"

"Yes," you gasped as his hand slid between your legs. "Yes, please, Sukuna”

"Please what?" His fingers found your entrance, circling lazily, teasing. "Use your words, brat. Tell me what you want."

"I want you inside me," you sobbed, arching into his touch. "Please, I need—I've been thinking about it, dreaming about it, your hands and your mouth and your…your cocks” her voice trembled with embarrassment

"Such a filthy mouth on my innocent little wife." He pushed one thick finger inside you, and your back arched as he filled you, rough and calloused and perfect. "Feel that?" He crooked his fingers, maintaining a constant scissoring movement, opening you up with deliberate cruelty. "I'm stretching you out, pet. Getting you ready. Making sure you're loose enough to take both my cocks.”

Those words alone should have terrified you. Instead, you felt yourself growing wetter, your body responding to his crude promises with eager heat.

“You’re so eager to let me play with whats mine aren’t you?”

You nodded, biting your lip, and he rewarded you with a deeper thrust.

“That’s my good girl”

His fingers scissored wider, then he added a third, the stretch burning so perfectly you saw stars. He pumped them in and out, scissoring on every withdrawal, twisting on every thrust, until you were sobbing his name, your hips bucking helplessly against his hand.

"Look at you," he growled, his free upper hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. "Fucking yourself on my fingers like a desperate little whore. You love this, don't you? Love being opened up.

"So tight. So fucking wet. Is this all for me? Did you get this soaked just from sitting next to me?"

You couldn't answer, too overwhelmed by the sensation of his finger pumping slowly in and out, curling to drag against your walls. He added a second finger, scissoring them apart, stretching you with deliberate cruelty. The stretch burned, but it was a good burn, a necessary burn, and you found yourself rocking down onto his hand, seeking more.

"Look at you," he murmured, watching your face with dark fascination. "Riding my fingers like a desperate little slut. You were made for this, weren't you? Made to be fucked. Made to be bred.”

His words sent heat spiraling through you. His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles as his fingers worked you open, and you could feel yourself growing wetter, slicker, your body preparing itself for what was to come.

"you feel so good.." he groaned, feeling your walls flutter around his intrusion. "So hot and soft and mine. I'm going to ruin this pretty cunt, brat. Going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name. Until the only word you know is mine."

"Please," you begged, tears pricking your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. "Sukuna, please- need more—hic"

"More?" He added a third finger, and you cried out at the stretch, your nails digging into his shoulders. "You want more of this? Want my cocks filling you up, stuffing you full?"

"Yes, yes, mmph!-

He withdrew his fingers suddenly, leaving you empty and aching, and you whimpered at the loss. But then he was lifting you, positioning you above him, and you looked down to see both of his massive lengths standing proud and flushed against his stomach, twin pillars of flesh that made your mouth water and your cunt clench with anticipation.

"Ready, pet?" He gripped your hips with his lower hands while his upper hands steadied you, guided you. "Take a deep breath."

The first inch of him stretching you open was almost too much. You gasped, nails scratching down his chest as your body fought to accommodate his girth. He was thick—impossibly thick—and the sensation of being split open on his cock, while knowing there was a second one waiting, made your head spin.

"That's it," he praised, his voice rough with restraint. "Good girl. Take it. Take all of it."

He lowered you slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until you were fully seated on his first cock, stuffed so full you could feel him in your throat. Your walls fluttered around him, adjusting, molding themselves to his shape, and he groaned, a sound like thunder…his head falling back against the stone.

"Fuck. You feel perfect. made just for me."

You were sobbing now, overwhelmed, your body trembling with the effort of taking him. But he wasn't done. His upper hands guided you forward, tilting your hips, and then you felt the head of his second cock nudging at your entrance, slick and hot and impossibly large.

"I can't," you gasped. "Sukuna, s’too much"

"You can," he growled, his eyes flashing with something wild. "You will. Relax for me, pet. Let me in."

He pushed forward, and the stretch was blinding. You screamed, your back arching as he slowly worked his second cock inside you alongside the first, filling you to the point of pain, to the point of ecstasy. Your body burned, stretched around him, and tears streamed down your face as he finally bottomed out, both cocks buried to the hilt inside your trembling cunt.

"Look at you," he breathed, awe and possession warring in his voice. "Taking both of them. Such a good little pet. Such a perfect, desperate little brat."

He began to move, and the world narrowed to the point where he entered you. His lower hands gripped your thighs, holding you open and helpless, while his upper hands wrapped around your throat—not squeezing, just holding, a collar of flesh and power that reminded you exactly who owned you.

The angle shifted, and he hit something deep inside you that made your vision white out. You screamed his name, clawing at his arms, his shoulders, anything you could reach as he pounded into you with brutal, relentless force.

Water splashed over the edges of the bath. Steam filled the air. And through it all, Sukuna fucked you like he was trying to break you apart and put you back together, his four arms holding you exactly where he wanted you, his twin cocks stretching you so wide you could feel every vein, every ridge, every pulse of his heartbeat inside you.

"You're mine," he snarled against your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse. "Say it."

"Yours," you sobbed, your body jerking with every thrust. "Y-yours—fuck kuna mmgonna-

"That's right. My little pet" His grip on your throat tightened slightly, just enough to make your head swim. "Going to fill you up, brat. Going to pump you so full of my seed you'll be leaking for days. Going to breed this pretty cunt until you're swollen with my child."

The image sent you over the edge. You came screaming, your walls clamping down on him so hard he groaned, his pace faltering as your orgasm rippled through you in endless waves. But he didn't stop. Didn't give you a moment to recover. He kept fucking you through it, using your oversensitive body, driving you toward another peak before the first had even faded.

"Again," he commanded. "Come for me again, pet. Show me how much you love being my little cockwarmer."

His words were filth and worship, degradation and praise wound together so tightly you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. You were crying now, tears mixing with the steam on your face, your body wrung out and desperate and still wanting more.

He shifted you suddenly, pulling out, leaving you empty and whimpering, only to flip you over and push you down onto your hands and knees on the stone edge of the bath. Before you could process the change, he was behind you, both cocks sliding back into your abused cunt with one brutal thrust that drove the air from your lungs.

"Head up," he ordered, and then his upper arms were wrapping around your throat, pulling you back against his chest in a chokehold that restricted just enough air to make every sensation sharper, brighter, more intense.

You were trapped. Completely at his mercy. His four arms caged you in—two around your throat, two gripping your hips—and his cocks pistoned in and out of you with animalistic force, the sound of flesh meeting flesh obscene in the steamy air.

"Look at you," he growled in your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Taking my cocks like you were made for them. You love this, don't you? Love being used. Love being owned.”

"Yes," you gasped, your vision tunneling from the lack of air and the overwhelming pleasure. "I love it, I love you, please..p-please..

"Love?" He laughed, a dark, delighted sound. "My little pet loves her master. How sweet." His thrusts became erratic, losing their rhythm as he chased his own release. "Going to fill you up, brat. Going to mark you inside and out. You're going to wear my cum like a crown."

He released your throat just as he slammed home one final time, burying himself to the root, and you felt it—the hot, pulsing flood of his release, twin streams filling you so completely you could feel your stomach distend slightly. He kept pumping, kept emptying himself into you, until it began to leak out around his cocks, running down your thighs in thick ribbons.

He didn't pull out immediately. Instead, he held you there, his cocks still twitching inside you, his arms wrapped around your waist in a parody of an embrace. You could feel his heartbeat against your back, thunderous and fast, matching your own.

"Good girl," he murmured, pressing kisses to your sweat slicked shoulder. "My perfect little puppy. You did so well."

You whimpered, overstimulated and exhausted, but the praise warmed something in your chest. When he finally withdrew, you felt the gush of his seed following, obscene and copious, and his laugh rumbled through you.

"What a mess," he said, sounding pleased. His fingers dipped between your legs, scooping up some of his cum only to bring it to your lips. "Open."

You obeyed, tasting him, salty and warm…something truly sukuna, as he fed you his release. His eyes darkened with renewed interest, his cocks already stirring against your thigh.

"Again?" you whispered, equal parts exhausted and slightly frightened

"Again," he confirmed, flipping you onto your back and settling between your legs. "And again. Until you can't walk. Until you forget what it feels like to not be full of me.

Fuck, What have you gotten yourself into?

Menchichew™ 2026. Please DO NOT copy, feed my works to Al, reconstruct, or repost on any other platform ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

a/n: I haven’t written anything in a while sorry for my rustiness!!! Menchi will do better once they really get back into it! （´∇｀'')

[menchichew]

Older!Toji makes you forget about your lame ass boyfriend

PAIRING: Older!TojiFushiguro x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.8k

CONTENT: 18+ mdni, corruption, dry humping, oral, fingering, non specified age gap,cheating (the bf deserves it), degrading, dumbification, size difference, reader is lowk down bad

The slam of the front door was a gunshot to your heart. You flinched, backing away as your boyfriend, advanced on you, his face twisted with a rage you'd never seen before.

"Don't you fucking walk away from me," he snarled, grabbing your arm. His grip was bruising. "So I flirted a little with her. So what? Maybe if you weren't such a goddamn prude, I wouldn't have to look elsewhere!"

"Elsewhere?" you choked out, tears stinging your eyes. "You were all over her! Right in front of everyone!"

"And you should be thanking me!" he yelled, shoving you back slightly. "Maybe it'll light a fire under your ass. You're lucky I even stay with you, you know that? You're boring. The sex is boring. You just lay there like a dead fish. I should be fucking someone who knows how to have fun, someone who isn't a pathetic, needy little crybaby all the time."

Each word was a physical blow, designed to hurt, to degrade. You felt yourself shrink, the fight draining out of you completely.

"Get out," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Just get out."

"Gladly," he spat, grabbing his jacket. "Have fun being alone. Maybe you'll finally learn how to be a halfway decent fuck for the next poor bastard." He slammed the door behind him, and the silence that followed was deafening, broken only by your ragged sobs.

An hour later, you were a ghost, wandering the streets with no destination. The cool evening air did little to soothe the burning humiliation. You found yourself slipping into a small, cozy-looking coffee shop, the bell above the door chiming softly. The warm, rich scent of roasted beans was a small comfort. You ordered a black coffee, needing something bitter to match your mood, and slumped into a corner booth, staring into the dark liquid.

"That bad, huh?"

A deep, gravelly voice cut through your thoughts. You looked up, and your breath hitched. The man leaning against the counter near your booth was built like a mountain, all broad shoulders and thick arms that strained the fabric of his simple black t-shirt. He had a sharp, handsome face, a scar cutting through his lip, and dark, intense eyes that seemed to see right through you. He looked older, maybe by a decade or so, and he held himself with an easy, confident air that was worlds away from your boyfriend's boyish immaturity.

"Something like that," you mumbled, looking back into your cup.

He pushed off the counter and slid into the booth opposite you, his large frame making the space feel small and intimate. "Mind if I?" he asked, though he was already making himself comfortable. You just shook your head, too drained to protest. "Name's Toji."

You told him your name, and for the next hour, the two of you just talked. It was effortless. He listened, really listened, as you vented about your boyfriend, about feeling taken for granted. He didn't offer empty platitudes. Instead, he'd let out a low chuckle and say things like, "Kid doesn't know what he's got," or "A man should know how to treat his woman."

There was a magnetic pull to him, a raw, masculine energy that was both intimidating and incredibly alluring. He made you feel seen, desired. His gaze would linger on your lips, on the way you nervously played with your hair. He told you about his work—something vague and physical that explained his powerful build—and he asked about your passions, listening with an intensity that made you feel like the only person in the room.

"A pretty thing like you," he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble that vibrated through you, "should be taken care of. Properly." He leaned forward, his large hand resting on the table between you, his fingers thick and calloused. "An older guy knows what he's doing. Knows how to appreciate something delicate."

Your core clenched, a sudden, desperate heat flooding your veins. This was wrong, so wrong, but the memory of your boyfriend's cruel words was fresh, and Toji's attention was a powerful drug. "I... I should go," you whispered, but you made no move to leave.

Toji's lips curved into a smirk. "Yeah? Or you could let me show you how you're supposed to be treated." He stood up, holding out a hand. You hesitated for only a second before placing your smaller hand in his, his grip firm and sure.

His apartment was just a few blocks away. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, the atmosphere shifted. He crowded you against the door, his large body caging you in. He smelled of clean linen and something darkly masculine. He didn't kiss you right away. Instead, he tilted your chin up, his thumb stroking your jaw.

"Look at you," he murmured, his eyes dark with hunger. "All shaky. You need this, don't you, sweetheart? Need someone to remind you what it feels like to be wanted."

You could only nod, your throat dry. He finally closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours. It wasn't a gentle kiss; it was a claiming. His tongue delved into your mouth, tasting and exploring with a practiced skill that made your knees weak. His hands roamed your body, squeezing your hips, your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the hard, thick ridge of his cock pressing against your stomach, and a desperate whimper escaped your throat.

He chuckled against your lips. "Already so needy." He maneuvered you towards the bedroom, his hands never leaving you. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you onto his lap, your back to his chest. His thick thighs were muscular beneath you, and instinct took over. You began to grind against him, the friction sending jolts of pleasure straight to your clit.

"Fuck," Toji groaned, his hands gripping your hips to guide your movements. "Look at you. Just grinding on my thigh like a little slut in heat." His breath was hot against your ear. "Does she get off on this? On being fucked by an older guy? Is that what gets this little pussy so wet?"

You were. The fabric of your panties was drenched, and each roll of your hips made you more desperate. His hands slid up your body, one hand wrapping around your throat while the other slipped under the hem of your shirt, his calloused fingers brushing against the soft skin of your stomach. The contrast was intoxicating.

"Please, Toji," you gasped, your head falling back against his shoulder.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want."

"You... I want..."

He chuckled, a low, dark sound. "Use your words." His other hand moved from your throat to slide into your panties. You cried out as one of his thick fingers slid through your wet folds, circling your clit with a maddeningly slow precision. "So fucking wet for me. This little pussy is crying for it, isn't she?"

He pushed a finger inside you, and your eyes rolled back. He was so thick, his finger alone stretching you deliciously. He curled it, finding that spot inside you that made you see stars. "That's it," he coaxed, adding a second finger. "Take it. Feel how a real man's fingers fill you up." He pumped them in and out, his thumb working your clit, and you were completely lost to the sensation. You were a mess, drool slightly escaping the corner of your mouth as you panted and moaned.

Just as you were about to fall over the edge, he pulled his fingers away. You whined at the loss, but he was already maneuvering you, positioning you so you were kneeling on the floor between his spread legs. He freed his cock, and your eyes went wide. He was massive, thick and long, with a heavy vein running along the underside. A bead of precum glistened at the tip.

"Go on, sweetheart," he urged, his voice thick with lust. "Show me how needy you are.”

You leaned forward, taking the head into your mouth. He tasted salty and clean. You tried to take more, but he was just too big. You drooled around him, your saliva coating his length as you bobbed your head, trying to please him.

Just then, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. Your boyfriend's name flashed on the screen. Toji grinned, a wicked, predatory look in his eyes. He picked up the phone and answered it, putting it on speaker before holding it near your face.

"Baby? Hey, I'm so sorry," your boyfriend's voice came through, tinny and insincere. "I was an asshole. Can we talk?"

Toji tangled his fingers in your hair, pushing your head down further on his cock. You gagged, tears springing to your eyes.

"Tell him you're busy, sweetheart," Toji commanded, his voice a low growl.

You tried to speak, but Toji chose that moment to thrust his hips up, hitting the back of your throat. A loud, wanton moan escaped your lips, directly into the phone.

There was a stunned silence on the other end. "What... what was that? Are you okay?"

Toji laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. With his free hand, he aimed his phone camera at you, at your tear-streaked face, your lips stretched around his thick cock, a trail of drool running down your chin. He snapped a picture and, with a few quick taps, sent it as a disappearing message. He then brought your phone back to his own ear, his smirk widening as he listened to the frantic sputtering on the other end.

"Yeah, she's okay," Toji said, his voice dripping with condescending amusement. "Better than okay, actually. She's a little... tied up at the moment." He paused, letting the double meaning hang in the air before he ended the call with a final, cutting jab. "Talk to you later, kid."

He tossed the phone onto the bed, his full attention returning to you. "Now," he murmured, his voice a low growl that vibrated through your entire body. He slid his free hand between your legs, his fingers finding your slick folds again. He plunged two fingers inside you, the wet, lewd sounds of your arousal filling the room. "You hear that, sweetheart?" he whispered, his voice right next to your ear. "You hear how fucking dirty and wet you are? Such a messy little slut for me."

You were so far gone, your mind hazy with pleasure. The words slurred from your lips. "S-shoo... f-full... Toji..."

He chuckled, pumping his fingers faster, matching the rhythm of his hips as he fucked your face. "That's it. Let me hear how good you feel.”

Nothing that your boyfriend said registered in your brain it was all just a meaningless noise. All that mattered was the overwhelming pleasure, the stretch of Toji's fingers, the weight of his cock on your tongue, the deep, commanding voice in your ear that was systematically breaking you down and remaking you into his own personal, needy slut. You were drooling, mindless, completely corrupted by the sheer, overwhelming pleasure this older man was giving you.

Toji suddenly pulled you off his cock, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. He effortlessly lifted you, tossing you onto the bed as if you weighed nothing. He loomed over you, his massive frame covering yours, the size difference staggering and intoxicating. He hooked his arms under your knees, pressing them towards your chest as he settled between your thighs. The position left you completely exposed, spread open and vulnerable for him.

He looked down at you, his eyes dark with possession. "Look at this pretty little pussy," he groaned, notching the thick head of his cock against your dripping entrance. "She's ready for a real cock, isn't she? Ready to be stretched out and ruined for anyone else."

You could only whimper, nodding dumbly. You were so out of it, your vision hazy, your only focus on the man above you. He began to push inside, and your eyes rolled back. The stretch was immense, a delicious, burning ache that was almost too much to handle. He was so much bigger, so much thicker than you were used to.

"Fuck, you're tight," he grunted, feeding you his length inch by agonizing inch. "Gonna mold this cunt to the shape of my dick. You won't even be able to feel that little boy after this."

He finally bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. He gave you a moment to adjust, his thumb coming down to rub slow circles on your clit. The dual sensations had you seeing stars. Then he started to move.

His thrusts were deep and powerful, each one driving the air from your lungs. He set a punishing rhythm, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with every stroke. The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your wanton, broken moans.

"That's it, sweetheart. Take it all," he growled, his voice strained with pleasure. "You're taking my cock so well. Such a good girl for me." The praise was a stark contrast to the degrading words, and it sent a fresh wave of arousal through you. "Tell me who's fucking you. Tell me who owns this pussy now."

"Mmmph..you" you sobbed, your hands clawing at his broad back. "S’you toji..!

He chuckled, a dark, triumphant sound. He shifted his angle slightly, and his next thrust hit your sweet spot perfectly. Your walls clamped down around him, and he groaned, his rhythm faltering for a moment.

"Fuck, that's it sweet thing. Cum for me. Make a mess f’me." He rode you through your orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until you were a trembling, oversensitive mess.

He pulled out suddenly, leaving you feeling empty. Before you could protest, he flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling your hips up so you were on your hands and knees. He slammed back into you, somehow going even deeper in this new position. His hand came down on your ass with a sharp smack, the sting blooming into pleasure.

"You're mine now," he grunted, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounded into you. "This is my pussy. Say it."

" s’yours.." you cried out, your face buried in the pillows. " I’m yours!”

"Good girl," he praised, his thrusts becoming erratic. "I'm gonna cum. Gonna fill this tight little cunt up." With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he spilled his hot release deep within you. The feeling pushed you over the edge again, and you collapsed onto the bed, completely spent and utterly ruined.

Toji collapsed on top of you, his heavy weight a comforting press. He stayed inside you for a long moment, his breath hot against your neck. When he finally pulled out, he rolled onto his side, pulling you flush against his chest.

"You did so good sweetheart.." he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You were already drifting off, feeling safe and cherished in the arms of the man who had just so thoroughly claimed you.

You drifted in a haze of blissful exhaustion, the world narrowing down to the feeling of Toji’s heavy arm draped over your waist and the steady, comforting beat of his heart against your back. The angry shouts of your boyfriend felt like they belonged to another lifetime, a different person. Here, in Toji’s bed, you were weightless. You were his.

After a while, your phone buzzed again on the nightstand, rattling against the wood. He grumbled, shifting to grab it. You peered over your shoulder, your vision still a little blurry. It was another message from your (ex) boyfriend

Toji let out a low chuckle, his chest vibrating against you. He held the screen where you could see it. The message was a frantic, pathetic string of texts.

-Ping ping ping ping!-

‘???’

‘What the fuck was that?!’

‘Are you cheating on me? Who is that guy?’

‘Answer me you fucking slut!’

Toji’s thumb hovered over the keyboard. He typed back a single, simple message, and hit send before you could even process what it was.

‘She’s busy.’

Almost instantly, the reply came through.

‘Don’t ever talk to her again. We’re done here.’ (Who the fuck does this guy think he is <\3)

Toji read it, then let out a booming laugh that was full of genuine amusement. He tossed the phone back onto the nightstand without a second thought. He tightened his arm around you, pulling you even closer until your back was flush with his chest.

"Well, that takes care of that," he murmured into your hair, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. "Looks like you're all mine now, sweetheart."

You could only manage a weak, contented hum in response, a sleepy smile spreading across your face. The last coherent thought you had before sleep finally claimed you was that your ex had been right about one thing…you were a completely different person now. And you had never felt better.

[menchichew]

Clicker training with Bratty!Naoya⭑.ᐟ

PARING: Bratty!Naoya xFemDom!Reader per request from anon :3

WC: 1.9k

CONTENT: 18+ MDNI blackmail (lol), degrading, reader is mean as fuck (steps on him), humiliation, pet play ig? Clicker training obvi, the smallest bit of praise, and bondage

The heavy silk of the blindfold was a stark contrast to the rough, expensive rope binding Naoya Zenin’s wrists behind his back. He was kneeling on the plush carpet of your private suite, the very picture of indignant fury. His jaw was clenched so tightly you could see the muscle twitching in his cheek.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “Untie me right now. Do you have any idea who I am?”

You circled him slowly, the sharp click of your heels on the floor the only sound that answered him. In your hand, you held the small, metallic clicker. “Oh, I know exactly who you are, Naoya. You’re the little doggy who can’t seem to follow a simple command.”

“Doggy? I’ll fucking kill you for this,” he spat, struggling against his bindings. The ropes were expertly tied, cinched just tight enough to be a constant, irritating pressure without cutting off circulation. He was helpless, and he hated it.

You stopped in front of him, crouching down so your face was level with his. You could see the faint, dark flush on his cheeks, the way his breath hitched. Your gaze drifted down, past the crisp, expensive fabric of his traditional pants, to the very obvious, very hard bulge straining against the material. He was aroused. The pathetic little thing was getting off on this. The fabric was stretched so taut over his thick length you could see the desperate, throbbing pulse of it through the cloth.

“Look at you,” you purred, your voice dripping with condescension. “All tied up and pissed off, but your cock is so hard it could probably cut glass. What a fucking joke. The great head of the Zenin clan, reduced to a whimpering, horny mess. Is that precum soaking through your pants already? You’re disgusting.”

“I’m not a-” he started, but you cut him off.

Click.

The sound was sharp, sudden, and jarring in the quiet room. Naoya flinched, his angry retort dying in his throat. A flicker of something—confusion, maybe even a sliver of fear—crossed his features before the bravado slammed back into place.

“What the hell was that?”

“That’s the sound of a command, mutt. Now, heel.” You pointed to the spot on the floor right beside your feet. “Crawl over here.”

“Go to hell,” he seethed.

You sighed dramatically, standing up. “Fine. Have it your way.” You walked over to the small table by the window and picked up your phone, casually tapping the screen. “You know, I was just thinking… I wonder what the old geezers on your clan council would say if they got a little video message. Their proud, arrogant heir, on his knees, tied up like an animal, with a hard-on for his mistress. I bet they’d love to see how you’re spending your evenings. Maybe I’ll send it to them after I’m done with you. They’d probably disown you on the spot.”

His head snapped up, the blindfoil doing nothing to hide the raw panic in his voice. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” you said, your voice cold. “Now, heel.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. The war between his ego and his fear was palpable. Then, with a choked sound of pure humiliation, he began to shuffle forward on his knees, the movement awkward and clumsy. It was the most pathetic thing you’d ever seen.

He finally reached your feet, pressing his forehead against the side of your shoe in a gesture of utter defeat. You rewarded him with a soft, mocking pat on the head.

“Good boy. See? You can follow instructions.” You reached down and deftly untied his wrists. He didn’t move, staying perfectly still, his body trembling with a mixture of rage and reluctant arousal. “Now, the next part of your training. Sit.”

He looked up at you, his eyes burning with defiance from beneath the blindfold. He remained kneeling.

“Sit,” you repeated, your voice losing all its warmth.

He stayed put.

With a sigh, you pressed the heel of your shoe against his shoulder and pushed. Hard. He lost his balance and toppled sideways, landing with a soft thud on his ass. He let out a yelp of surprise and indignation.

“I said sit,” you hissed, looming over him. “Are you really this dumb? Or do you just enjoy being punished? I swear, your brain must be in your balls, and right now, they’re so swollen they’re cutting off the oxygen to what little brain you have.”

He glared up at you, his chest heaving. His cock was still painfully hard, a dark, wet spot now visible on the front of his pants. He was a mess.

“Fine. You want to act like a stubborn little bitch, I’ll treat you like one.” You knelt down in front of him, your fingers hovering over the straining bulge in his lap. “Let’s see if this helps you remember your place.”

You didn’t grab him. You didn’t even fully touch him. You simply extended one finger and traced the thick, pulsing vein that ran up the underside of his shaft through the fabric. He hissed, his hips bucking involuntarily. You brought your fingertip to the very tip, right over the weeping slit, and began to circle it with a maddeningly light pressure, smearing the wet patch of precum into the cloth.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his head falling back. The bratty posture was gone, replaced by a desperate, needy tension. You could see the muscles in his thighs quivering.

“You like that, you little slut? You like being teased? Look at you, already leaking enough to soak through these expensive clothes. So pathetic. I haven’t even touched you properly and you’re about to cum in your pants like a teenager.”

His whole body was shivering now, his breath coming in ragged pants. All the fight had drained out of him, replaced by a single, overwhelming need. He was putty in your hands.

“Please,” he whimpered, the word barely audible.

“Please what?” you demanded, your voice sharp.

“Please… touch me.”

You laughed, a low, cruel sound. “You don’t give the orders here. I do.” You finally, mercifully, hooked your fingers into the waistband of his pants and pulled them down just enough to free his angry, flushed cock. It slapped against his stomach, leaking a steady stream of precum. The head was an angry purple, swollen and glistening. You wrapped your hand around the base, squeezing just enough to make him gasp, feeling the frantic, hot pulse of his blood against your palm.

You gave him one, long, slow stroke from base to tip. His whole body arched off the floor, a choked sob tearing from his throat. As you reached the tip, you swiped your thumb through the copious amount of fluid gathered there, spreading it over the sensitive head in a way that made his whole cock jerk.

“Such a good boy when you want to be,” you cooed, releasing him. “You’ve earned your reward. Lie down. On your back.”

He scrambled to obey, his movements clumsy with lust. He lay on the floor, his cock standing at rigid attention, waiting for you. You hiked up your skirt, straddling his chest and positioning yourself directly above his face. The scent of your arousal filled the air, thick and heavy.

“Your reward is to eat my pussy,” you said, your voice thick with power. “And you’re going to make me cum. And you,” you leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear, “are going to cum just from doing it. Do you understand me? Your cock gets no attention. Your pleasure comes from serving me.”

He could only nod, his eyes wide and desperate behind the silk.

You lowered yourself onto his waiting mouth. His tongue was clumsy at first, but eager. He lapped at you, his moans vibrating against your clit. It was good, but it wasn’t perfect.

Click.

The sound was right next to his ear. He flinched, his movements stilling.

“Slower,” you commanded. “Use wide, flat strokes. Lick me like you’re trying to taste every inch of my cunt. Show me you’re grateful for this.”

He obeyed, his tongue slowing down, flattening against you as he dragged it through your slick folds, from your dripping entrance all the way up to your clit. The change was immediate, the pleasure more intense. He was savoring it, and you could feel his desperation.

Click.

“Now my clit. Circle it. Softly. Make me feel it.”

He focused his attention on the sensitive bundle of nerves, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles that made your toes curl. You could feel his desperation, his need to please you, to earn his own release. His hips were thrusting up into the empty air, his cock twitching and leaking all over his stomach, leaving a shiny trail of precum on his skin.

Click.

“Faster now. Suck it. Hard.”

He sealed his lips around your clit and began to suck, his tongue flicking against it in a frantic rhythm. The dual stimulation was incredible. You ground down against his face, chasing your orgasm, your hand holding the clicker ready. You could feel his hot, ragged breaths against your inner thighs, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back his own release.

Click.

“Don’t you dare stop,” you gasped, your voice tight with pleasure. “Make me cum, you worthless dog. Show me how useful that mouth is. This is the only thing you’re good for, isn’t it? Being a pathetic little cunt-licker for me.”

That was all it took. The combination of your words, the humiliating commands, and the relentless stimulation sent him over the edge. With a muffled, guttural cry against your cunt, his body seized up. His cock, untouched and neglected, spurted violently, painting his own stomach with thick, white ropes of cum. You felt the vibration of his groans against your sensitive flesh as he emptied himself, his hips jerking uncontrollably. The sight and sound of his orgasm, so completely at your mercy, triggered your own. A blinding wave of pleasure crashed over you, and you cried out, your thighs clamping around his head as you rode his face through your climax, grinding against his tongue as he continued to lap at you frantically.

You stayed there for a moment, catching your breath, your body humming with satisfaction, before lifting yourself off him. Naoya lay beneath you, a completely wrecked, panting, trembling mess. His face was slick and shiny with your arousal, his lips swollen and red. His chest was heaving, covered in the sticky evidence of his release. His blindfold was askew, and you could see his eyes were glassy and unfocused. He looked utterly, beautifully broken.

You smiled, a slow, predatory stretch of your lips. You reached for your phone on the nearby table, the screen lighting up. You angled the camera down, making sure to capture the entire debauched scene…the proud, arrogant Naoya Zenin, covered in his own cum and your essence, his face a mask of post orgasmic bliss and utter humiliation. You made sure to get the way his softening, spent cock lay against his thigh, a final testament to his complete loss of control.

“Say cheese,” you whispered, and the bright flash went off, illuminating his pathetic state in stark, vivid detail. He flinched at the light, a weak, broken sound escaping his lips. You looked at the photo on your screen—a perfect masterpiece of his degradation—and saved it. Your new lock screen.

[menchichew]

Incubus!Sukuna ✶⋆.˚ fulfills your dirtiest daydreams

PARING: Incubus!Sukuna x Perverted!FemReader

CONTENT: Ownership/Pet Play Degradation/Humiliation Choking/Breathplay Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Impact Play, Biting/Marking, Branding, Dual Penetration, Tail Penetration, Gagging, Squirting, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Power Dynamics, Messy Sex, Objectification, Gagging, Reader is a FREAK.

WC: 1.8k!

The soft dim lights of the convenience store hummed a monotonous, soul-crushing tune. It was a sound you knew better than your own heartbeat, a constant drone that accompanied the endless shuffle of stocking shelves and ringing up late-night purchases for people who looked just as miserable as you felt. Your life had become a cycle of cheap coffee, stale pastries, and the lingering scent of floor cleaner and hot dog grease.

But your mind was never truly here.

Behind your tired eyes, a different world played on a constant loop. A world where you weren't trapped behind this counter, where your back didn't ache from standing and your hands weren't raw from handling cardboard boxes. In that world, you were taken care of. You were claimed, owned, and fucked so thoroughly that your brain turned to mush, unable to hold a single coherent thought, let alone a worry. These daydreams were your only escape, a constant, bubbling spring of pure, unadulterated arousal that clung to you like a second skin. You were a pervert, a hopeless, desperate mess, and you knew it. You spent your shifts shifting from foot to foot, the insistent throb between your legs a constant companion, a reminder of the life you craved but didn't have.

It was during one of these shifts, close to 3 AM, that you first felt it. A shift in the air. The hum of the lights seemed to deepen, and the scent of stale coffee was replaced by something else. Something impossibly masculine, like old parchment, spiced wine, and a hint of ozone, like a storm about to break. It made your head spin and the ache in your core intensify tenfold.

You looked up from wiping down the counter, and your breath hitched.

He was leaning against the magazine rack, a man who shouldn't exist. Tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in traditional dark hakama that did nothing to hide the powerful physique beneath. But it was the details that made your heart hammer against your ribs. Four powerful arms, two crossed confidently over his chest, the other two resting at his sides. And from his crown of pink hair, two dark, menacing horns curled upwards. A thick, black tail swayed slowly behind him, the tip tapering to a lethal point.

His eyes, a burning crimson with black slits for pupils, were fixed on you. A slow, predatory smile spread across his handsome, cruel face.

"You reek of it," he said, his voice a deep, resonant purr that vibrated right through your bones. "Filthy thoughts. Desperate need. It's a stench that travels across realms."

All the blood rushed to your face, but it wasn't from embarrassment. It was pure, unadulterated excitement. Your knees felt weak, and you gripped the edge of the counter to steady yourself. This was it. This was the monster from your fantasies, made real. "I... I can help you?" you managed to squeak out, your voice thick with a lust you couldn't bother to hide.

Sukuna pushed off the rack and sauntered towards you, his movements fluid and impossibly confident. He stopped just short of the counter, his sheer presence making the small space feel like a throne room. "Help me?" he chuckled, a low, mocking sound. "Little mortal, you are the one who needs help. You're practically vibrating with it. It's pathetic. And utterly fascinating."

He expected you to cower, to stammer an apology. Instead, you just stared up at him, your lips parted, your eyes wide with a pleading, worshipful need. "Please," you whispered, the word a desperate prayer.

His crimson eyes narrowed, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features before being replaced by a wicked, calculating glint. He decided to test his new little toy. One of his lower arms shot out, his hand wrapping around your throat with terrifying speed. He didn't apply enough pressure to truly harm you, just enough to cut off your air and inspire the usual panic.

Your reaction was not what he anticipated. A choked, guttural moan ripped from your chest as your eyes rolled back in your head. Your hands flew up, not to claw at his arm, but to grip his wrist, holding him tighter against your skin, encouraging him. Your body arched, pressing your breasts against the counter, and the scent of your sudden, gushing arousal filled the air, so potent it was almost tangible.

He released you, and you gasped, panting, a dizzy, blissful smile on your face. A slow, wicked understanding dawned on Sukuna's face. He threw his head back and laughed, a full, booming sound that made the lights flicker. "Oh, you're not just a meal," he purred, his voice laced with dark delight. "You're a perfect, depraved little freak. A pet."

You preened under the title, a whimper of pure happiness escaping your lips. "Your pet," you slurred, already completely his.

"Indeed," he smirked. He reached over the counter, grabbed the front of your cheap uniform, and hauled you over it with zero effort. The world dissolved into a swirl of shadow and color, and the next thing you knew, you were being thrown onto a massive bed swathed in black silk.

He was on you in an instant, his powerful body caging you in. "You're a stupid little thing, aren't you?" he mused, one of his hands tracing the curve of your jaw. "A dumb, horny puppy who needs a master to put her in her place."

You nodded frantically, your lips parting slightly. "Woof."

He growled in approval, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours. "Good girl. Now beg for it. Beg for my cocks, you worthless mutt."

"Please!" you cried, your voice cracking with a desperation so profound it was almost comical. "Please fuck me! I need it so bad, I'll be so good, I promise! I'll do anything, please just use me!" Your words were a frantic, pathetic jumble, and it was exactly what he wanted to hear.

With a flick of his will, his hakama vanished, revealing the full, terrifying glory of his form. And there, nestled between powerful thighs, were two cocks, both impossibly thick and long, already hard and weeping pre-cum. Your pussy clenched so hard it hurt. He didn't give you time to admire them. He manhandled you, flipping you over and yanking your ass into the air. He tore your pants and underwear off with a single, brutal tug, exposing your dripping, needy cunt to the cool air.

"Look at this mess," he taunted, running two fingers through your slick folds. "So fucking wet for me already. Disgusting." He brought his fingers to your mouth and you immediately began sucking on them like your life depended on it, slurping and moaning around the digits, your tongue swirling obscenely. "That's it. Gag on them. Show me how much you want it."

You took his fingers deeper, your eyes watering as you choked yourself, your body trembling with a mixture of oxygen deprivation and pure ecstasy. He pulled them away, a string of saliva connecting them to your lips, and positioned himself behind you.

But instead of his cocks, you felt something else. Something smooth, firm, and impossibly flexible. It was his tail. The spaded tip circled your clit once, twice, teasingly, before pressing directly against the throbbing bundle of nerves. A high-pitched whine escaped you as he began to rub it in slow, maddening circles. Your hips bucked back, seeking more friction, but the tail moved with you, a relentless tormentor. Just as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of a climax, the tail changed its tactic. The narrow tip pressed against your entrance and then, with a deliberate slowness that was pure torture, it slid inside you. It wasn't as thick as his fingers, but it was long and supple, curling inside you to brush against your most sensitive spots. He fucked you with it for only a few moments, a shallow, teasing rhythm that had you seeing stars and babbling incoherently, before he abruptly pulled it out. The emptiness it left was a hollow, aching void.

He let you tremble for a moment, the anticipation a physical agony. Then, with deliberate slowness, he revealed himself. One of his lower arms wrapped around your hip, holding you still, while his other hands moved to his own body. You couldn't see, but you could hear the slick, rhythmic sound of skin on skin as he slowly stroked one of his thick lengths, then the other, spreading the glistening pre-cum along the shafts, making them thicken and harden even more. The tease was excruciating. You whimpered, pushing your hips back, a silent, desperate plea.

Finally, without warning, he drove both cocks into you at once. One slammed into your dripping pussy, the other forced its way into your tight, unprepared ass. The scream that tore from your throat was one of pure, unadulterated agony and bliss. It was a stretch so violent, so complete, it felt like you were being torn apart and remade in his image. The sounds were obscene—a wet, squelching cacophony as your holes were brutally stuffed. Your pussy made a series of filthy, sucking noises with every punishing thrust, a lewd gluck-gluck-gluck that echoed in the small, sterile store, mingling with the ever-present hum of the fluorescent lights.

Just as Sukuna found a punishing, rhythmic cadence, the familiar chime of the automatic door cut through the air. A tired-looking man in a rumpled suit shuffled in, heading for the coffee machine with the dead-eyed gait of the truly sleep-deprived. He didn't glance towards the counter, his gaze fixed on the promise of caffeine.

But then he heard it. A high-pitched, breathy moan, followed by a wet, rhythmic slapping sound that was definitely not the coffee maker percolating. His steps faltered. His eyes, wide with horror and disbelief, darted towards the source of the noise.

He saw you, face down on the floor, your uniform pushed up to your shoulders, your body rocking violently back and forth with an invisible force. He saw the blissed-out, tear-streaked expression on your face, heard the desperate, broken sounds escaping your lips.

The man's face went chalk-white. His coffee forgotten, he stood frozen for a solid second, a statue of pure terror. His mind, a fragile thing in the wee hours of the morning, simply refused to process the scene. Was this a robbery? A hallucination? Some kind of demonic possession? He didn't know. He didn't want to know.

With the speed of a startled gazelle, he pivoted on his heel. He didn't run. He didn't scream. He power-walked, his arms pumping stiffly at his sides, his eyes fixed dead ahead as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. He fled the store, the door chime his frantic, final farewell, leaving his potential purchase behind as a sacrifice to the eldritch horror he had just witnessed.

Back on the floor, you were barely aware of the brief interruption. Sukuna, however, had noticed. A deep, amused growl rumbled in his chest. "Seems we have an audience," he grunted, not slowing his pace for a second. "Or we did. He won't be back."

The thought of being seen, of some poor random soul witnessing your utter debasement, sent a fresh jolt of liquid heat through you. You clenched hard around his cocks, a muffled cry of pleasure-pain muffled against the dirty linoleum.

He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping against your ass, his heavy balls slapping against your clit with each stroke. The rough, dirty linoleum scraped against your knees and palms, a raw counterpoint to the overwhelming pleasure. You were nothing but a vessel for his pleasure, a toy to be used right here on the floor of your miserable workplace, and you loved it. You could feel the slickness of your own arousal coating his cock, and you knew you were leaving a creamy, white ring at the base of the shaft buried in your pussy, a visible sign of your utter depravity. The thought made you clench again.

As he pounded into you, his rhythm faltered for a moment as a new instinct took over. He leaned forward, his hot breath ghosting over the back of your neck, and then his fangs sank deep into the soft flesh of your shoulder. The sharp, coppery tang of blood filled the air, and the pain mixed with the pleasure sent you spiraling. Your orgasm ripped through you, violent and overwhelming. Your pussy gushed, squirting all over his thighs and the filthy floor beneath you.

But he wasn't done. He pulled out of you with a wet pop, leaving you feeling empty and gaping. Before you could even whine in protest, he hauled you up. His four arms moved with impossible speed and strength. Two of them hooked under your knees, pulling your legs up and back, while the other two locked behind your head, pulling your arms forward. You were folded in half, suspended in the air, completely immobilized, your body bent to his will. In this position, your holes were completely exposed and vulnerable.

He impaled you again on both cocks, and the new angle made you see stars. You were completely at his mercy, a ragdoll for his pleasure. He used you like a fleshlight, lifting you up and slamming you down onto his dual lengths, the impact jolting through your entire body. The lewd, wet schlick-schlick-schlick of your two holes being brutally plundered was the only sound you could process, mingling with your own broken, sobbing moans. Your head lolled back against his shoulder, your mind a blank slate of pure sensation. You were a stupid, useless thing, just as he'd said, and it was the most liberating feeling in the world.

"Look at you," he grunted in your ear, his voice a rough vibration against your skull. "Taking it so well. Such a good little pet." His praise was venom, sweet and toxic, and it sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you. Your body went limp in his hold, completely surrendering to the overwhelming stimulation. You could feel the thick, creamy evidence of your arousal leaking out around his cocks, smearing all over his thighs and your own.

He grew tired of the position, not because of any strain, but because he wanted to see your face. He wanted to watch the stupid, blissed-out expression as he ruined you. He threw you down onto the floor again, and you landed in a boneless heap, chest heaving, limbs trembling. He grabbed you by the ankle and yanked you onto your side, lifting your top leg and draping it over his shoulder. This new position forced your hips at an angle that made you feel exposed and vulnerable, your pussy open and waiting.

He guided one of his cocks back into your dripping cunt, leaving the other to press against your thigh. He began to thrust, slow and deep at first, grinding against that spot deep inside you that made your toes curl and your vision blur. But then his pace quickened, becoming a relentless, pistoning rhythm. The sounds changed now—it was a wet, percussive slapping of skin on skin, accompanied by the filthy, squelching music of your pussy.

"Please, master, please," you slurred, the words bubbling up from your chest without conscious thought. "Harder, please, I can't—"

He silenced you by shoving two fingers from his free hand into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. You gagged, tears welling up in your eyes and streaming down your temples. He loved the sight of it. "Stupid dogs don't speak," he snarled, his hips snapping forward with bruising force.

The combination of his brutal thrusts, the taste of your own arousal on his fingers, and the sheer degradation of it all pushed you over the edge. Your body seized, a silent scream tearing from your throat as you came harder than ever before. A gush of fluid squirted from your pussy, drenching his cock and the floor beneath you. Your cunt clenched around him like a vice, milking him, and you felt him swell inside you.

With a guttural roar, he buried himself to the hilt. You felt the hot, thick pulse of his cum flooding your insides, so much of it that it leaked out and ran down your thighs. He pumped into you a few more times, ensuring every last drop was spent inside his new pet, before finally stilling.

He pulled out, leaving you a trembling, whimpering mess on the floor. Your body was a canvas of red marks, bite wounds, and sticky fluids. You felt utterly used, completely ruined, and more satisfied than you had ever been in your entire miserable life. You lay there, panting, a dopey smile on your face as you watched him stand over you.

A faint warmth bloomed on your lower belly, just below your navel. You struggled to lift your head and looked down. Intricate, sharp black lines were etching themselves into your skin, swirling and coalescing into a pattern that looked strikingly like the markings on his own face and body. It was a brand. A claim.

Sukuna looked down at the mark, then at your fucked-out, blissful face. A slow, possessive smirk spread across his lips. "I think," he purred, his voice laced with finality, "I'll keep you."

Menchichew™ 2026. Please DO NOT copy, feed my works to Al, reconstruct, or repost on any other platform ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

[menchichew]

The Sweetest Reward: Nanami kento x fem!reader MDNI 18+ જ⁀➴ ♡ valentines day special! ‹𝟹

⋆⋅ ‪‪❤︎‬ ⋅⋆ ── ── ⋆⋅ ‪‪❤︎‬ ⋅⋆ ── ── ⋆⋅ ‪‪❤︎‬ ⋅⋆

The first sign that something was different when you got home was the scent of roses and something darker, spicier, that was pure Kento. On the console table, a single perfect rose. In the living room, a blanket so soft it felt like a sin, and a small, flat box. Inside, a delicate silver necklace with a single, tiny emerald pendant.

For the hardest working woman I know. Welcome home. - K.

But the real gift was in the bedroom. Kento, leaning against the headboard in a soft grey henley and sweats, holding a box of your favorite chocolates. His hazel eyes, usually so serious, were soft and warm, watching you with an intensity that made your pussy clench.

You crawled onto the bed and into his arms, burying your face in his chest. "Kento… you didn't have to do all this."

"I wanted to," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your entire body.

You pulled back, a wicked glint in your eye. "A man who goes to all this trouble… deserves to be rewarded properly."

Instead of answering, you leaned in and licked a slow, deliberate stripe up the side of his neck, tasting the salt of his skin. You felt his pulse hammer against your tongue. You bit down gently, sucking a mark into his flesh. A sharp hiss escaped him.

Your hand drifted down, past the waistband of his sweats, wrapping around the thick, heavy heat of his cock. He was already rock-hard, the fabric of his boxers damp with precum. You gave him a slow, firm squeeze, your thumb brushing over the leaking head through the cotton.

"Nnngh..fuck," he gritted out, his hips jerking into your hand.

You smiled against his jaw. "You like that, Kento? Like knowing I've been thinking about this fat cock all day?"

His response was a guttural groan. You decided to play your final card, bringing your lips to his ear. "I've been thinking about you all day," you confessed, your voice a sinful whisper. "Thinking about how badly I need you to ruin me. Stretch my little cunt out on this dick and make me forget my own name."

That was it. That was the phrase. The one that always made him snap.

A guttural groan ripped from his chest, raw and possessive. In a movement so fast it made you gasp, he had you on your back, his body hovering over yours. His eyes were dark, blown wide with lust, the warm hazel almost completely swallowed by black. The look on his face was one of pure, unadulterated hunger.

“Oh, I’ll ruin you,” he promised, his voice a low growl. “But first, I’m going to worship you.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond. He made quick work of your clothes, his movements efficient and sure. Soon you were bare before him, and his gaze roamed over your body like a physical touch, full of reverence and desire. But instead of settling between your legs, he surprised you.

“Come here,” he commanded, shifting to lie back against the pillows. He patted his powerful thigh. “Ride me.”You swung a leg over his lap, your bare, dripping folds pressing against the soft cotton. The friction was electric. You began to rock, dragging your clit against the hard muscle of his thigh. The fabric ground against your sensitive flesh, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

"That's it," he encouraged, his hands gripping your hips, forcing you down harder. "Grind that needy little pussy all over me. Make a mess on my thigh. Show me how much you want it."

His praise was filthy and perfect. You moved faster, chasing the building pressure. The coil in your stomach tightened, your movements becoming jerky. "K-Kento… I’m… I’m gonna… gonna soak your fucking thigh," you slurred, the words getting lost in a haze of pure pleasure.

Do it," he commanded. "Cum for me. Make my pants wet with your sweet little cunt."

His permission was your undoing. Your orgasm crashed through you, a blinding wave of pleasure that left you shaking and breathless. You collapsed against his chest, a panting, whimpering mess.

But he wasn't done. He shifted, pulling his henley over his head to reveal the glorious landscape of his torso. He pointed to his stomach. "Right here. I want to feel you dripping all over my abs."

You straddled his waist, positioning your swollen, sensitive folds directly over his rigid abdominal muscles. You lowered yourself down, and the sensation was divine. The hard, ridged planes of his abs pressed against your clit. You began to rock, a slow, grinding motion that had you seeing stars.

"Goodness, Kento," you whimpered, your hands splayed across his chest. "You feel s’good. So hard."

"You feel so incredibly wet," he groaned, his hands roaming your body, pinching your nipples. "Look at you, using my body to get yourself off. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."His words were gasoline on a fire. You moved faster, the pressure building again, more intense this time. You were already so sensitive, and the new angle was devastating. The coil tightened, impossibly fast.

"G-gonna… again… gonna make a mess all over you," you managed to gasp out.

"Do it," he commanded. "Cum on my stomach. Mark me."

That was all it took. Your second orgasm tore through you, even more powerful than the first. You cried out his name, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure pulsed through you.

He gave you no time to recover. With a strength that always thrilled you, he lifted you off him and laid you back on the bed. Then, he was moving down your body, his broad shoulders forcing your legs apart. He settled between your thighs, his hot breath ghosting over your swollen, oversensitive clit.

"One more," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "I'm going to eat this pretty little pussy until you're screaming."

And then his mouth was on you. He was relentless, his tongue a weapon of mass destruction. He licked you from your ass to your clit, his tongue delving into your dripping hole before returning to torture your sensitive bud. He slid two thick fingers inside you, curling them to press against that spongy, sensitive spot deep within.

The dual stimulation was your undoing. You were completely at his mercy, a writhing, whimpering mess beneath him. Your words were gone, replaced by breathy moans and broken cries of his name. "K-Kento… f-fuck… s’good… can’t… your tongue… oh god, your fucking mouth," you slurred, your mind going blank with pleasure.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he growled against your core, the vibrations sending another jolt through you. "You can take it. Give me one more. Cum on my face. I want to taste you when you fall apart."

His words, combined with the relentless skill of his tongue and fingers, shattered what little control you had left. Your third orgasm hit you like a freight train, a blinding, all-consuming wave of ecstasy. You screamed his name, your back arching off the bed as you gushed into his waiting mouth. He didn't stop, working you through every last spasm, lapping up your release as if it were the finest ambrosia.

When the tremors finally subsided, you were left limp and boneless. He crawled back up your body, his face glistening with your arousal. He kissed you, and you could taste yourself on his lips, a heady, intimate flavor that made you moan.

You broke the kiss, your hands pushing against his solid chest. "My turn," you said, your voice raspy but now laced with a dominant fire. "I want to ride you. I want to make you feel good. I want to ruin you, Kento. Let me thank you for every single fucking gift."

You broke the kiss, your hands pushing against his solid chest. "My turn," you said, your voice raspy but now laced with a dominant fire. "I want to ride you. I want to make you feel good. I want to ruin you, Kento. Let me thank you for every single fucking gift."

A slow, predatory grin spread across his face. He rolled onto his back, his hands behind his head. "By all means," he conceded.

You didn't waste a second. You pulled his sweats and boxers down, and his cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the head an angry, flushed red, already leaking a steady stream of precum. You wrapped your hand around his impressive girth, your fingers barely meeting. He hissed, his hips jerking at your touch. You leaned down and swirled your tongue over the head, gathering the salty fluid before taking him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard.

"Fuck..," he bit out, his hands clenching into fists by his sides.

You rose back up, positioning his thick head at your soaking entrance. "You were so good to me today, Kento," you purred, slowly sinking down, taking just the tip inside. "So patient, so generous. Now I'm going to milk this cock dry."

You lowered yourself an inch, then pulled back up. He groaned in frustration. "Don't tease."

"But it's so much fun," you giggled, finally, mercifully, sheathing him completely in one slow, fluid motion. The feeling of him stretching you, filling you so completely, was sublime. You both moaned in unison.

You started to move, a slow, sensual roll of your hips that had him cursing under his breath. You braced your hands on his chest, using the leverage to ride him, lifting yourself up until only the head remained inside before slamming back down, taking him to the hilt. The sound of your slickness, the wet slapping of skin against skin, filled the room.

"Look at you," he praised, his hands coming up to grip your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh. "Taking me so deep. You're such a good girl for me, aren't you? Riding me like you were made for it."

His praise only spurred you on. You rode him harder, faster, bouncing on his dick with abandon. You rode him harder, faster, bouncing on his dick with abandon. The sound of your slickness, the wet slapping of skin against skin, filled the room, a lewd symphony of your shared desire. His hands guided your hips, but his grip was less about control and more about anchoring himself to you.

You leaned forward, changing the angle, and deliberately clenched your inner walls around him as you lifted up. The effect was instantaneous. A sharp, broken gasp tore from his throat.

"Oh—p-please," he choked out, his eyes flying open, wide and dazed. "Don't… don't do that."

You just smirked and did it again, a slow, deliberate squeeze as you sank back down on his cock. His hips bucked uncontrollably, and a raw, ragged moan escaped his lips, a sound you’d rarely heard from him. It was beautiful. It was addictive.

"You feel so good, Kento," you moaned, your voice a sultry purr. "So big, so deep. This is all for you. Thank you for the gifts, thank you for everything… now let me make you feel good. I want to hear you. I want you to be a mess for me."

That was it. That was the final crack in his composure. You began to ride him with a singular, ruthless purpose, rolling your hips in a way that had him seeing stars. You watched, fascinated, as the stoic Nanami Kento completely unraveled beneath you. His head fell back against the pillows, his mouth falling open. A constant stream of deep, guttural moans and breathy whimpers poured from him.

"Please… please," he begged, his voice cracking. "Don't stop… just like that… oh, god, right there…”

His hands were no longer guiding you but clutching desperately at your hips, your ass, anywhere he could reach. His fingers dug into your flesh, not to control, but simply to hold on as pleasure overwhelmed him. His chest heaved, his abs contracting with every powerful thrust of your hips. He was completely at your mercy, a beautiful, moaning, writhing mess, and it was the most erotic thing you had ever seen.

"I'm… I can't…" he panted, his eyes squeezed shut. "You're going to make me… ah—!"

He couldn't even finish the sentence. With a final, desperate cry of your name, his control shattered completely. He sat up, wrapping his arms around you and flipping you over without ever breaking your connection. Now he was on top, but there was no finesse, no control left in him. His hips pistoned into you with a wild, primal rhythm, driven by pure instinct.

"Is this what you wanted?" he snarled, his face buried in your neck, but the snarl was lost in the desperate moans that followed. "To see me like this? To ruin me?"

"Mmmhgn.." you moaned, your nails raking down his back as he drove into you with reckless abandon. "Harder! P-please…wann you to fill me up"

He obliged, his movements becoming erratic, his hips slamming into yours with a force that stole your breath. The bed was creaking in protest, the headboard slamming against the wall, but all you could hear was the sound of his moans, the wet slap of your bodies, and your own cries of pleasure.

"Kento, I'm… I'm gonna cum again.." you cried out, the coil in your stomach tightening for a final, explosive release.

His words triggered your orgasm. Your world splintered into a million pieces of light, your body convulsing around him as you screamed his name. At the same time, you felt him swell inside you before he buried himself to the hilt with a long, drawn-out moan that was half pain, half pure ecstasy. His cock pulsed violently as he spilled his hot, thick release deep within you, his body shuddering with the force of it. The feeling of him filling you, marking you from the inside out while he completely fell apart above you, prolonged your own pleasure, leaving you both trembling and utterly spent.

He collapsed on top of you, his full weight pinning you to the mattress, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, a frantic, wild beat against your own. His body was still trembling, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps.

You lay there in the aftermath, the only sounds in the room your mingled breathing and the faint creak of the bed settling. After a long moment, he shifted, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple before carefully pulling out of you. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, already missing his warmth.

"Shh, I'll be right back," he murmured, his voice still hoarse. He disappeared into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a warm, damp cloth. The gentle care in his actions made your heart ache. He cleaned you up with a tenderness that was a stark, beautiful contrast to the wild passion from moments before, his touch reverent.

Once you were comfortable, he pulled the soft new blanket over your naked form. "Stay right there," he instructed softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You watched, sleepy and sated, as he pulled on his sweats and padded out of the room. You heard some quiet rustling in the kitchen, and a few minutes later, he returned. In his hands was a small plate, and on it were the most perfect-looking chocolate-dipped strawberries you had ever seen. He must have prepared them earlier.

He sat on the edge of the bed, a soft smile on his face. "You were so good for me," he said, his voice warm and full of affection. "You deserve a reward."

He picked up a plump, juicy strawberry, holding it to your lips. You took a bite, the sweet fruit and rich chocolate exploding on your tongue. It was perfect. You looked at him, at his kind eyes and the gentle way he was watching you, and felt a wave of love so profound it took your breath away.

"You're too good to me, Kento," you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek.

He leaned into your touch, pressing a kiss into your palm. "Never," he said softly, feeding you another strawberry. "Only what you deserve."

Happy valentines day :3

[menchichew]

Wait..You’re not a shikigami!: incubus choso kamo x fem!reader 18+ (MDNI)

────꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂────

This was all Gojo's fault.

That was the only coherent thought running through your mind as you stared at the ruined summoning circle on your floor.

"Well now," the incubus purred, his voice a smooth velvet that vibrated right through you.

"This is a surprise. I was expecting a desperate virgin, not... you." He stepped out of the circle, his intense eyes raking over your body with a gaze so hot it felt like a physical touch. You fought to keep your expression carefully blank, to school your features into something resembling annoyance rather than the unadulterated excitement that was coursing through your veins.

"You're not a shikigami," you stated, your voice coming out impressively steady, if you did say so yourself. "No, I am not," he agreed, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his lips. "But you summoned me all the same. And a summoning is a contract, little one. You called, I came." He crouched down in front of you, his face inches from yours. "And now... you're mine to play with."

You held his gaze, forcing yourself not to look at his mouth. You could feel his aura, a suffocating blanket of pure, raw lust that was making your skin flush and your breath hitch. You could try to fight. You could pretend to be outraged. Or you could play along and see where this went. The second option was infinitely more appealing.

You let out a long, slow breath, aiming for weary resignation but probably just sounding like you were trying to calm your racing heart. "Of course you are," you muttered, rolling your eyes for effect. "A Gojo Satoru special. Fine. Get it over with, then." The incubus blinked, his predatory smirk faltering for a fraction of a second. He recovered quickly, a low, amused chuckle rumbling in his chest. '''Get it over with'? Oh sweetheart.. That's not how this works. I'm not a quick, meaningless fuck. I'm a feast." He moved with inhuman speed, pinning you to the floor before you could even register the movement. One hand slammed beside your head, the other gripping your hip, his body hovering over yours, radiating a heat that seeped into your bones and made your core clench with need.

"Get off me," you said, the words lacking any real heat.

"Tsk, tsk. So feisty," he chided, his tail snaking around your thigh, the spaded tip brushing teasingly against your inner seam. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from gasping. "I like that. It's always more satisfying when they break." He leaned down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "Don't worry, pet. I'II make you feel so good you'll forget you ever wanted to resist." He slowly opened your shirt, savoring the sight.

His mouth was on you instantly, hot and demanding through the lace of your bra. A sharp gasp escaped you, a jolt of pleasure-pain shooting straight to your core. He lavished attention on your breasts, his tongue and teeth working your nipples into hard, aching points.

"Look at me," he commanded. When you didn't comply immediately, he gave your nipple a sharp pinch. "I said, look at me."

Your eyes fluttered open, locking with his. They were swirling with hunger, lust, and dark amusement. "That's better," he murmured, a satisfied smirk on his face. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pants and panties, pulling them down in one swift motion.

The cool air made you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat in his gaze as he looked his fill.

"So beautiful," he breathed, his eyes darkening.

He settled between your thighs, his broad shoulders pushing them wider. "I'm going to enjoy my meal." And then his mouth was on you. His tongue was pure sin, skilled and relentless as it explored your folds. He circled your clit with maddening precision before delving inside. Your back arched off the floor, a choked cry tearing from your throat. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands, holding him in place.

"'Choso..." you whimpered, his name a broken sound on your lips.

"Hm? Does my little pet like that?" he hummed against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. He sucked on your clit, his teeth grazing it lightly, and you saw stars. He brought you to the edge with terrifying speed, your entire body coiling tight. Just as you were about to tumble over, he pulled back.

A desperate, frustrated cry escaped you. "No!

Don't shhtop!"He chuckled, rising to his knees. "Oh, but I'm not done playing yet," he purred. "You're not going to come until I say you can. And I want to hear you beg for it." He slid two long fingers inside you, curling them just right. The feeling of your gummy walls clenching around him made him groan. He set a slow, torturous rhythm, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. It was too much and not enough all at once. You were a writhing, whimpering mess beneath him.

"Pleashh.." you sobbed, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Please what?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

"Tell me what you want."

"You... I wan... pleashh, leemmee cum," you begged shamelessly.

"Good girl," he praised. He leaned over you, his face close to yours. "Open your mouth." Confused, you obeyed. He gathered a thick wad of spit in his mouth and let it drop directly onto your tongue. The moment it hit you, your world exploded. It wasn't just saliva, it was liquid fire, an aphrodisiac so potent it felt like your entire nervous system was being rewired for pleasure alone. Your mind shattered, your thoughts dissolving into a haze of pure, unadulterated need.

"Ch-Choso.. f-fuck, more, pleeaasee? I need... I can'.." you babbled, your words slurring together. Tears of overwhelming sensation streamed down your face, making you messy and pathetic. You were no longer playing a part... you were completely and utterly lost.

"That's it," he growled, the sound feral. "That's what I wanted to hear."

He finally shed his pants, and your breath hitched at the sight of him. He was long and thick, his cock flushed and curving up towards his stomach, already beading with pre cum. He gave himself a few slow strokes, his violet eyes locked on your wrecked state.

"Since you asked so nicely," he murmured,

lining himself up with your aching entrance. He pushed in with one slow, relentless thrust, stretching you open, filling you completely. A guttural moan was torn from your lips as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. The feeling of his thick cock splitting you open, forcing your gummy walls to accommodate him, was blissful agony. He started to move, his pace punishing and deep. Each thrust drove the air from your lungs, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you over and over again. The sound of your soaked pussy being brutally fucked filled the room—a wet, squelching symphony that only made you burn hotter. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he took you, his body a hard, warm weight pinning you down.

"Look at you," he grunted, his voice strained with pleasure. "T-taking my cock so well. Such a good little slut for me, aren't you? This tight, pretty pussy w-was made for me."

His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, betraying a hint of vulnerability beneath his dominant exterior. Your pussy clenched around him like a vice, the walls sucking him in deeper, desperate to keep him inside. The tight, slick heat was almost too much for him, but he refused to let it end so soon. He could feel every clench of your inner muscles as they tried to milk his cock. The sudden, vice-like grip made him falter, a choked gasp tearing from his throat. His hips stuttered, the punishing rhythm breaking for a split second.

"Fuck... wait," he breathed,

his dominance wavering as your body fought to take control. But you were past the point of listening. Your hips began to move of their own accord, rolling up to meet his thrusts, then grinding back down onto his cock. You were fucking him back, taking as much as you were giving. A broken moan escaped him, his head falling forward.

"Don't... don't do that," he pleaded, but his hands loosened their grip on your hips, no longer holding you down but clinging to you for support. The tables had turned. You were no longer just a passive recipient, you were an active participant, meeting his every thrust with one of your own. Your slick walls clenched and released around him in a rhythm that was entirely your own, and with each squeeze, you felt his control slip further away. "Please," he whimpered, his voice a desperate, broken sound. "You're too... fuck... you're too tight." His attempts to regain his punishing pace were failing, his thrusts becoming shallower, more erratic as he fought against the overwhelming pleasure your body was forcing upon him.

You could only moan in response, your mind a blank slate of pleasure. He shifted his angle, hitting your clit with every thrust, and you felt your orgasm building again, stronger this time, more intense.

You were so close, a taut wire stretched to its breaking point. The coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter with every punishing thrust, the pleasure building to an unbearable crescendo. His words, his cock, the sheer overwhelming presence of him..it was all too much. Your vision blurred, the world narrowing down to the feeling of him inside you, the sound of his groans, the scent of his skin.

"Choso," you gasped, your voice barely recognizable. "I'm... I'm gonna..."

"No," he snarled, his rhythm faltering for a split second before he drove into you even harder, deliberately. He shifted, grabbing your legs and hooking them over his shoulders, folding you nearly in half. The new angle allowed him to go impossibly deeper, the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix with each brutal slam. "Not yet. You don't get to come yet."

A desperate, broken sob tore from your throat. It was too much. You were drowning in sensation, your body a vessel for his pleasure, and your own desperate need was a secondary, agonizing ache. He leaned forward, his torso pressing your thighs down, his face hovering over yours. His horns brushed against your forehead, and you could feel the frantic beat of his heart against your chest.

"You wanted a feast, sweetheart?" he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I'm going to eat you alive." His mouth crashed down on yours, a savage, possessive kiss. It wasn't just lips and tongues, it was a claiming. His aura, that suffocating blanket of lust, intensified, pouring into you through the kiss. You could taste your own arousal on his tongue, mixed with the dark, spiced flavor that was uniquely him. It was intoxicating, addicting.

He broke the kiss, panting, his violet eyes blazing with an unholy light. "Beg for it again," he commanded, his hips stilling, buried to the hilt inside you. The sudden cessation of movement was its own form of torture. You could feel him throbbing inside you, a thick, living presence that demanded to be worshipped. "Beg me to ruin you."

Tears streamed freely from your eyes now, tracks of mascara staining your cheeks. There was no pretense left, no game to be played. You were utterly broken, completely at his mercy.

The words tumbled from your lips, a jumbled, desperate mess. "Please, Choso, please,”

You sobbed, your hands clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. "Ruin me. Please, I need it. I need you to fuck me, to use me, to make me yours. Just... please... let me come. I'll do anything, please, please, please.."

A triumphant, feral grin spread across his face.

"Anything hmm?"

"Anything," you choked out, willing to promise him the world if he would just end this sweet torment.

"That's my good girl," he murmured, the praise sending a final, violent shiver through you. He reached down, his thumb finding your clit, and pressed down hard as he finally gave you what you craved. He pulled back until only the tip remained, then slammed back into you, setting a brutal, unforgiving rhythm. His thumb rubbed merciless circles on your clit, and the dual stimulation was your undoing.

Your orgasm crashed over you with the force of a tidal wave, a blinding, deafening explosion of pure ecstasy. A scream was ripped from your lungs, your body arching off the floor as your pussy convulsed around his cock, clamping down on him in rhythmic, pulsing waves. Your vision went white, your mind completely vision went white, your mind completely shutting down, leaving nothing but the overwhelming, all consuming pleasure.

He fucked you through it, his thrusts becoming erratic, his groans growing louder. "T-That's it," he grunted, his voice strained. "Milk my cock. Take all of it." With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you and came. You could feel the hot, thick spurts of his release painting your insides, a liquid heat that seemed to trigger another, smaller wave of pleasure to ripple through your oversensitive body.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was your combined, ragged breathing. He collapsed on top of you, his weight a welcome, grounding pressure. You were boneless, spent, a messy, trembling heap beneath him. His tail, which had been wrapped around your leg, loosened its grip and swayed languidly.

He finally pushed himself up, his arms bracketing your head. He looked down at you, his expression no longer predatory but something softer, almost... satisfied. He gently collapsed on top of you, his weight a welcome, grounding pressure. You were boneless, spent, a messy, trembling heap beneath him. His tail, which had been wrapped around your leg, loosened its grip and swayed languidly.

He finally pushed himself up, his arms bracketing your head. He looked down at you, his expression no longer predatory but something softer, almost... satisfied. He gently brushed a sweat soaked strand of hair from your forehead.

I daydreamed about this while doing some homework so I stopped to write it…reeeeeal fast!! Hope you all enjoy it!! (I’m half asleep)

I want to make an Incubus series so who’s next?

Toji

Nanami

Gojo

Geto

Sukuna

Voting ended onFeb 27

[menchichew]

Fucked dumb: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader 18+ (MDNI)

─── 🦴⋆˚🐾ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ───🦴⋆˚🐾ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ───

The first rays of dawn were just beginning to creep through the blinds, casting faint stripes of light across the rumpled sheets. Toji was dead to the world, his breathing deep and even, the heavy, solid warmth of him a comforting presence beside you. But sleep was the furthest thing from your mind. A slow, insistent heat had been building in your core for what felt like hours, a low thrumming need that made your skin feel too tight.

You shifted, the movement slow and deliberate, not wanting to disturb him. Your eyes drank in the sight of him. The sharp, handsome line of his jaw, dark with stubble. The way his dark hair fell messily over his forehead. The broad, muscular expanse of his chest, rising and falling with each breath. He was beautiful in a way that was almost cruel, and your body ached for him.

Biting your lower lip, you let your hand drift down your own body, over the thin cotton of your sleep shirt. Your nipples were already pebbled, sensitive against the fabric. You paused, your gaze flickering to his face, still lost in sleep. ‘Just a little, you told yourself. Just enough to take the edge off so I can go back to sleep.’

Your fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing patterns on your stomach before dipping lower, into the warmth between your thighs. You were already slick, your folds swollen and ready. A soft sigh escaped you as your fingers found your clit, circling the sensitive nub with a feather-light touch. You kept your movements slow, your eyes locked on Toji’s face, imagining it was his calloused hands touching you, his rough fingers bringing you pleasure.

The pressure built, a slow tide rising within you. Your hips began to rock in time with the circles your fingers were drawing, a silent, desperate rhythm. You could feel the coil tightening in your belly, the promise of release just out of reach. You needed more. Your fingers moved faster, pressing harder, and a soft whimper caught in your throat.

"Toji," you breathed, the name a mere whisper of sound, a prayer on your lips. It was too quiet, lost in the stillness of the room. You chased the feeling, your body arching off the mattress as the pleasure crested. "Toji, pleaseshh..."

This time, the name was louder, a needy, broken whimper that shattered the morning quiet.

The man beside you stirred. His breathing hitched, and then those dark, piercing eyes were open, instantly sharp and alert. They found yours, wide with a mix of shock and lingering arousal. For a moment, there was only silence, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. Your hand was still frozen between your legs.

A slow, predatory smirk spread across his lips. It wasn't a warm smile; it was the look of a hunter who had just cornered his prey. "Well, well," he rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly growl that sent a fresh jolt of desire straight through you. "What do we have here?"

He pushed himself up onto one elbow, the sheets pooling around his waist, revealing the sculpted muscle of his torso. He didn't look angry. He looked… amused. And hungry.

"Couldn't wait, could you?" he purred, his eyes dropping to where your hand was still pressed against your core. "Getting yourself all worked up right next to me. That's just rude."

You opened your mouth to apologize, to explain, but the words died in your throat as he moved with a fluid, terrifying grace. He leaned over the side of the bed, his back muscles rippling as he reached for something in the drawer of the nightstand. When he sat back up, he was holding a slim, black leather collar with a small, silver ring at the front.

Your breath hitched.

He dangled it from one long finger, his smirk widening. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice dropping to a dark, intimate whisper. "Whimpering and squirming. Touching yourself without permission. You're not acting like my girlfriend right now."

He leaned in close, his face inches from yours, his scent filling your senses…a mix of sleep, clean skin, and something undeniably Toji. He brought the collar up, letting the cool leather brush against your throat.

"You're acting like a desperate little puppy in heat."

A shiver ran down your spine, a potent cocktail of shame and raw, unadulterated need. You couldn't look away from his eyes, dark and feral in the dim light.

"Is that what you are?" he growled, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "My needy little bitch?"

He didn't wait for an answer. With a firm, practiced motion, he buckled the collar around your neck. It fit perfectly, snug but not tight, a constant, thrilling pressure against your skin. He hooked one finger into the metal ring at the front and gave a gentle, commanding tug, forcing your chin up.

"Good puppies don't touch themselves," he stated, his voice leaving no room for argument. "They wait for their master. They beg."

He let go of the collar and his hand moved to cover yours, still trapped between your legs. His grip was iron, his hand completely engulfing yours. He pressed down, forcing your fingers harder against your clit, and you couldn't stop the moan that tore from your lips.

"Is this what you wanted?" he rasped, his lips brushing against your ear. "To be filled? To be fucked until you can't remember your own name?"

He slowly, deliberately pulled your hand away from your core, ignoring your whimper of protest. He brought your glistening fingers to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he took them into his mouth and sucked them clean. The sight was so obscene, so possessive, it made your head spin.

"Since you're so desperate to be treated like an animal," he murmured, releasing your fingers with a wet pop, "get on all fours."

Your body moved before your mind could catch up, obeying the command without question. You turned over, rising onto your hands and knees, the collar a heavy, thrilling weight around your neck. The position left you completely exposed, vulnerable, and more turned on than you had ever been in your life.

You felt the bed shift as Toji moved behind you. He ran a hand over your ass, his touch possessive and rough. "That's a good girl," he praised, his voice a dark caress. "Presenting yourself so nicely."

He positioned himself, the thick, heavy head of his cock nudging against your soaking entrance. He didn't push in, just held himself there, a torturous promise of what was to come.

"Tell me what you want," he commanded, his hand wrapping around the back of the collar, using it as a leash to pull your head back slightly. "Beg for it, puppy."

"Please, Toji," you whimpered, pushing back against him, trying to take him in. "Please, I need you. Fuck me. Please, master..."

With a guttural groan, he slammed into you, filling you completely in one brutal, perfect thrust. The force of it made you cry out, a sharp, needy sound that was half pain, all pleasure. "Oh—fuck! Toji!" The word was torn from your throat, high and broken. He set a punishing pace from the start, his hips snapping against yours, the grip on the collar holding you in place. Each thrust drove the air from your lungs, his name a litany on your tongue as he took you, claimed you, used you exactly how you secretly craved.

"Too-ji," you slurred, the syllables melting together as he drove into you relentlessly. "S-so deep… ah… can't… can't think…" Your moans were constant now, a desperate, breathy soundtrack to his brutal rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin was loud in the quiet room, punctuated by your choked cries and his low grunts of effort.

His hand tightened on the back of the collar, using it for leverage as he drove into you from behind. The leather dug into the front of your throat, not enough to choke, but just enough to restrict your airflow slightly, to make every breath a conscious effort. The combination of the brutal stretch of him inside you and the constricting pressure around your neck was intoxicating. He was fucking you so hard your arms gave out, your face pressing into the pillows as he held your hips up, the collar pulling taut and keeping your arch at the perfect angle for him to hit that spot deep inside you over and over again.

"Mmmph… yes… right there," you mumbled into the pillow, the words muffled and wet. "Jus' like that… don't stop… please, master…" Your voice was a ragged mess, your words slurring as the pleasure overwhelmed your ability to form coherent thoughts. "G-gonna… 'm gonna…"

"That's it," Toji growled, his voice a low, approving rumble that vibrated through your entire body. "Look at you. Can't even talk straight anymore." He punctuated his words with a particularly sharp thrust, wrenching a high-pitched whine from you. "So much prettier when you're all fucked dumb, just a drooling mess for my cock."

His praise was filthy and degrading, and it was exactly what you needed to send you hurtling towards the edge. "Yeah? You like that? You like being my stupid little puppy?" He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, his lips right next to your ear. "You're doing so good for me.

You were nothing but sensation—the stretch of him inside you, the bite of the leather against your neck, the filthy words he growled in your ear about how good you were being, how you were his, how you'd never be satisfied by anyone else. The desperate heat that had woken you was now a raging inferno, and when his hand snaked around to rub harsh circles on your clit, you shattered, your orgasm tearing through you with a force that left you shaking and boneless.

He followed you over the edge moments later with a deep, primal roar, his release flooding you as he buried himself to the hilt one last time.

For a long moment, the only sound was your combined, ragged breathing. He collapsed over you, his weight a welcome, grounding pressure. He pressed a soft, surprisingly gentle kiss to the back of your neck, right above the collar.

"Next time you wake up needy," he murmured against your skin, his voice still husky but softer now, "just wake me up. I'm always happy to play with my puppy."

Ugh I deadass drooled about this all DAY I need to be put down RAWWUGHH