lemxnns

“Come here, darling.” He murmured, his voice a low, resonant rumble that vibrated in your chest.

You stepped closer, your heart hammering against your ribs. “Hiromi... I…”

“No more doubting,” he interrupted softly, reaching out to wrap his large, warm hand around your waist. 

He pulled you flush against him, his palm splaying across the curve of your hip, squeezing the plush flesh there.

Groaning softly, the sound vibrated against your side. “You are perfect. Every single inch of you is exactly where it should be.”

He guided you toward the center of the bed, his intentions clear. He laid back, bracing himself against the pillows, his eyes locking onto yours. He motioned to his face, a silent, commanding invitation. 

Hiromi wanted you to sit on him – he wanted your weight, your warmth, and your scent to overwhelm him.

You froze, your breath hitching. The thought of your full weight pressing down on his face sent a jolt of anxiety through you. 

“I can’t... Hiromi, I’m too heavy. I’ll– I’ll crush you, or you won’t be able to breathe, and I—”

“Shh…” He commanded, though his tone remained affectionate. “I wanna feel you. I want every pound of you pressing me into the mattress. I want to be smothered by you, angel.”

You hesitated, your legs trembling slightly. You tried to lower yourself slowly, but the fear held you back, leaving you hovering just inches above his mouth. 

You were terrified that the moment you fully committed, he would realize you were too much.

Hiromi had seen enough. He didn’t want your hesitation; he wanted you.

With a sudden, decisive movement, his hands shot up, gripping your thick, soft thighs. His fingers sank deep into your flesh, anchoring you. With a powerful tug, he pulled you down, forcing your hips directly onto his face.

A gasp escaped your lips as you landed. The impact was sudden and absolute: your plush pussy landed squarely over his mouth and nose, the heat of your body meeting the heat of his breath. 

You let out a small, panicked whimper, trying to lift yourself back up, but Hiromi’s grip was iron. He locked his arms around your ass, pulling you down harder, grinding his face upward into your soaking wet folds.

“Stay.” He demanded, the word muffled against your skin. “Don’t you dare move.”

The sensation was overwhelming. Because of the way you were positioned, the bridge of Hiromi’s prominent nose pressed firmly and directly against your clit. It wasn’t a soft touch; it was a solid, insistent pressure that sent a lightning bolt of pleasure straight to your core. 

You arched your back, your fingers digging into the bedsheets as you let out a loud, shaky moan.

“Haa..! H-Hiromi! Oh god..."

He didn’t stop. He began to grind his nose against your clit while his tongue flicked out to lap at your opening. The friction was delicious, and he was using the structure of his face to massage you, the hard cartilage of his nose providing a constant, blunt stimulation that made your toes curl.

“You feel so good, angel.” He groaned, his voice vibrating directly against your pussy. 

The vibrations of his speech traveled through your nerves, turning the pleasure into something electric. 

“So soft and—haah—thick... I love how you feel on me. I love these thighs.. ’nd this stomach..”

He began to suck, his lips forming a tight seal around your clit and dragged. Pulling and releasing, he created a vacuum that drew the blood rushing to your sensitive tissues. 

You were shaking now, your plump thighs quivering against his cheeks. The feeling of being completely surrendered to him, of having your weight fully accepted and craved, began to melt away your insecurity.

“Mmgh... Hiromi, please... it’s too much— ah!” You cried out, your voice breaking into a sob of pleasure.

“’S not enough.” He countered, muffled but firm. He shifted his jaw, using his tongue to dive deep inside you, swirling around while his nose continued to rub relentlessly against your clit. “I wanna taste every drop of you. Wanna worship you, angel."

The combination of the blunt pressure from his nose and the wet, swirling heat of his tongue was driving you toward the edge. 

You felt the tension building in your lower stomach, a coil of heat tightening with every flick of his tongue. You began to grind instinctively, your hips rolling against his face, pushing yourself deeper onto him.

“Uh huh, just like that, darling.” He affirmed, making you shudder atop of him. "Mmf– keep it up, love… gotta learn these curves by heart.. "

The obscene affection in his words – combined with the raw physical sensation – pushed you over. 

Your slick walls clamped down hard on his tongue, and pulsed delicately around the muscle. A lewd keen ripped from your throat as your first orgasm crashed over you.

“H– Hiromi! Nhaa..!”

You collapsed against him, your body shuddering in the afterglow, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You felt heavy, limp, and completely spent. 

For a moment, you worried that you were suffocating him, but Hiromi didn’t push you away. Instead, he held you tighter, his hands massaging your ass, pulling you closer still.

He didn’t move away. Rather, stayed right there, his breath hot against your soaking wet skin. He began to lick you slowly, cleaning up the cream of your climax with long, slow strokes of his tongue.

“Fuck, look at that…” He whispered. “So wet, hmm? Liked it that much, love?”

You let out a soft, shaky breath, your heart slowly returning to a normal rhythm. “I... I didn’t crush you?”

Hiromi let out a low, amused chuckle that vibrated through your entire pelvic floor, sending a fresh spark of arousal through you. 

“Crush me? Darling, I could stay under you for the rest of my life. I love the weight of you, ’nd I love how you wrap around my face. You’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he spoke to your body with such reverence, made you feel a warmth that had nothing to do with sex. You felt cherished; seen.

But the pleasure wasn’t over. As the initial wave of the orgasm receded, the sensitivity remained. 

Every small movement of his tongue felt like a spark on a powder keg, and it was clear that Hiromi knew exactly what he was doing. He began to tease you, his tongue lightly dancing around your clit without quite touching it, creating an agonizing tension.

“Hiro... please..!” You whined, your hips beginning to twitch.

“Please what, angel?” He teased, his voice a low purr. “D’you want more? You want me to make you scream again?”

“Uh huh… need it.”

In turn, he didn’t rush – spent the next several minutes worshipping your body. 

He shifted slightly, allowing you to slide back just enough so he could look up at you, though he kept his face pressed against your cunt. Reaching up, his hands sliding under your shirt to squeeze your breasts, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples.

“You’re so soft.” He murmured, his eyes dark with lust. “Every curve, every fold... it’s all so—mmh—pretty. Just wanna spend hours just exploring you.”

Cupping them, his fingers squeezed the heavy mounds, pawing at your nipples. He kneaded your tits with a hunger that mirrored the way he was eating you out, treating your body like a feast he intended to devour completely.

He moved down, his large hands finding the soft, generous curves of your thighs. 

As he gripped them, his fingers sunk deep into the plush flesh, kneading the skin with a possessive intensity. He loved the way your thighs spilled over his hands, the sheer abundance of you that he could hold and still want more of.

“So sweet,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look up at you, though his mouth was glistening with your juices. His eyes were dark, blown out with lust. “Do you have any idea what this does to me?”

He slid his hands upward, moving from your thighs to the soft swell of your stomach. He began to massage your belly, his palms circling the warmth of your skin, squeezing the soft rolls with a reverence that bordered on worship. 

To him, every curve was a masterpiece, every soft fold a place for him to lose himself.

“Mmgh... ahn! Hiromi..!” You moaned, your head tossing back, your hips beginning to grind automatically against his mouth once more.

“Shh. Just take it, angel.” He commanded, his voice soft but firm. “Keep grinding, yeah? Gimme more.”

He dove back in, his tongue swirling around your clit in a wide, wet circle before suctioning it hard into his mouth. 

You let out a loud mewl of pleasure, your body shuddering – the amalgamation of his mouth working magic on your pussy and his hands relentlessly pawing at your stomach and thighs was sending you over the edge.

“Uhn– getting close, aren’t you? Tightening up around my tongue..” He questioned, sending shivers up your spine. “Gripping me so good..”

“I can’t– oh! I can’t take it, I’m going to—!”

“Do it.” He pushed, tone thick with desire. “Cum on my face again, love.”

You couldn’t help it – the pleasure peaked, a tidal wave of ecstasy that drowned out everything else. You felt your pussy clench around his face, squeezing him tight as you spiraled into a blur of white-hot sensation.

As you came down from the peak, you felt him licking you with a slow, possessive hunger. He didn’t let you move, keeping you pinned to his face, ensuring you felt every bit of his devotion.

“There we go…” He cooed, pulling back to trail kisses up your inner thighs. When your vision focused once more, you were greeted with the sight of him looking up at you with so much adoration your heart swelled.

You sat there for a long time, draped over him, the silence of the room filled only by the sound of your synchronized breathing. You felt a profound sense of peace, the insecurities that had plagued you for years silenced by the raw, honest hunger of the man beneath you.

Hiromi shifted, sliding his arms around your back to pull you down and onto his chest. He wrapped his arms around your middle, cocooning you in his warmth. He kissed your shoulder, his lips lingering on your skin.

“I love you, okay?” He assured quietly, watching as your eyes fluttered shut and you gave a lazy nod.

Meanwhile, you snuggled into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, knowing that in his arms, you were exactly where you belonged.

Your car had sputtered and died on the shoulder of a dusty road just a few miles from his shop. By the time you’d managed to limp the vehicle into his bay, you were stressed, sweaty, and – most importantly – completely broke. 

When Toji had given you the estimate for the repairs, your jaw had dropped. You didn’t have half the amount he was asking for.

Toji had leaned back against his workbench, crossing his muscular arms over a grease-stained tank top that barely contained his chest, watching you scramble through your purse with a cocky, knowing smirk.

“Tell you what.” He’d announced, his eyes scanning your body with blatant hunger. “I don’t take IOUs. But I’m feeling generous today. I’ll waive the labour fee... if you can find a different way to compensate me.”

Now, that ’compensation’ was in full swing.

Toji reached down, his oil-stained hand sliding between your thighs. He didn’t waste time with gentleness; he shoved two thick fingers deep inside you with a sudden, forceful thrust.

“Nhh! Oh god—!” You cried out, your head snapping back, a loud moan echoing through the rafters of the garage. You were already soaking, your body reacting instinctively to his dominance.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” Toji groaned, his voice thickening. He pumped his fingers hard, mimicking the motion of a cock, stretching you open while his other hand continued to smear oil across your hips, marking you as his. “So eager to pay up. I bet you’ve been thinking about this since I told you the price, haven’t you?”

“Shut up... just... please…” You whimpered, your hips beginning to grind instinctively against his hand.

“Please what? Please fuck you? Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me exactly how you want to pay me.” He teased, slowing his fingers down just enough to make you crave more, his thumb circling your clit with a punishing pressure.

“Please fuck me! Just do it!” You practically screamed, your voice breaking into a sob of pleasure.

Toji let out a dark, triumphant laugh. He withdrew his fingers and quickly shucked his trousers, his massive, thick cock springing free. 

It was heavy and pulsing, a stark contrast to the grime of the workshop. He didn’t use a condom; he didn’t use lube. Then again, he didn’t need to – you were more than wet enough.

He grabbed your waist again, hauling your hips back until there was no space left between you. With one powerful, singular thrust, he buried himself inside you to the hilt.

“Wh– nhaa!” You whined, your eyes rolling back as your internals were completely filled. The sheer size of him stretched you to the limit, the sensation overwhelming and electric.

Toji groaned, a deep, guttural sound of satisfaction. “Fuck... you’re so tight. Heh, I might actually enjoy this job.”

He began to move, his pace relentless and bruising. Every thrust sent a shockwave through your body, slamming your chest against the hood of the car. The rhythm was primal: the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with the metallic echoes of the garage. 

Toji wasn’t being careful; he was fucking you with a cocky intensity, his chest slamming into your back, his oil-covered hands leaving a chaotic map of black streaks all over your thighs and waist.

“You like this, don’t you?” He grunted, leaning forward to bite the nape of your neck. “Getting fucked on your own goddamn car because you’re too broke to pay the bill. You’re a little—hnngh—mess, aren’t you?”

“I—ah, yes! Oh god, Toji! Faster... please– faster!” You wailed, your moans turning into incoherent cries of pleasure.

He complied, his thrusts becoming shorter, faster, and more violent. He was hammering into you, driving you further and further toward the edge. 

You could feel the friction building, the heat between your legs becoming an inferno. You were clinging to the car for dear life, your knuckles white, your breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.

“Look at you... taking it all…” Toji whispered, his voice strained. “Fuckin’ slut. Just keep taking it f’me.”

The climax hit you like a freight train. Your slick walls clamped down on him in tight, rhythmic spasms, and you let out a long, obscene keen that echoed through the shop. 

Seconds later, Toji let out a low growl, his body stiffening as he surged deep inside you one last time, filling you with a hot, thick load of cum.

He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, both of you panting heavily, the only sound the ticking of the cooling engine beneath you. Toji slowly pulled out with a wet pop, leaving you slumped over the hood, trembling and covered in a mixture of oil and sweat.

He stepped back, adjusting his clothes with a smug expression, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He reached over and patted the hood of the car.

“Alright. All settled. Your car’s good to go.” He spoke up, his voice returning to that smug, teasing lilt.

You groaned, slowly pushing yourself up, your legs feeling like jelly. “I hate you so much.”

“Sure you do.” He smirked.

Just as you were about to climb into the driver’s seat, a loud, metallic clang echoed from under the hood, followed by the distinct sound of something snapping and a hiss of steam shooting up into the air.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You stared at the steam, then slowly turned your head to look at Toji.

Toji stared at the engine, his smirk faltering for a split second. He rubbed the back of his neck, a small, awkward chuckle escaping his lips.

“Uh…” He started, glancing back at your flushed face and your oil-streaked hips. A mischievous glint returned to his eyes. “Looks like a bolt snapped. My bad.”

You opened your mouth to scream, but he stepped closer, his hand sliding down to squeeze your ass one more time.

“Tell you what,” he whispered, leaning in. “I’ll fix it for free... if you’re up for another round of payment?”

a/n: guess whos back.

Your legs quivered beneath you, barely holding you up as Suguru’s strong arm wrapped around your waist, his hand splayed possessively on your hip, fingers digging in just enough to steady you. His other hand curled lightly around your throat from behind, not squeezing hard, just a gentle pressure that kept your head tilted back against his shoulder, forcing you to arch into him. 

It was intimate, controlling, making every plunge of his hips feel like he owned every inch of you.

“Look at you, my sweet girl.” Suguru murmured against your ear, his voice a low, velvety rumble that carried just far enough for the front rows of his followers to hear, though their faces remained buried in submission. “Taking me so perfectly, even with all these eyes that aren’t worthy to witness your beauty.”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat flooding your core, your walls clenching around the veined length of him as he ground deeper, the bulbous head of his cock nudging against that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

You bit your lip, heat flooding your cheeks as awareness prickled at the edges of your pleasure-fogged mind. 

They couldn’t see – not really, with their heads bowed in reverence – but the knowledge that dozens of bodies surrounded you, listening to every gasp and slap of skin, made your stomach twist with shy vulnerability. 

“S– Suguru…!” You stammered, voice slurred from the intensity, words fracturing as another thrust jolted through you. “What if they hear—ah!” 

A moan cut you off, high and needy, your hands clutching at his forearm around your throat for support.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring, his breath ghosting over your neck as he nipped at your earlobe. “Let them hear. Let them know how good I make you feel.” 

“Mmh…” You whined weakly in protest, although both of you knew you were only bluffing.

Hand slipping lower on your hip, his thumb circled your swollen clit in lazy strokes that had you bucking back against him. “You’re shaking already, sweetheart… legs all weak because of me, hm?”

The light chokehold on your throat tightened just a fraction, not enough to hurt, but enough to make your pulse race under his palm, your breaths coming in short, needy pants. It held you upright when your body wanted to collapse, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as another wave of ecstasy built low in your belly.

Suguru’s free hand slid up from your puffy nub to splay across your lower belly, pressing down just enough to feel the obscene bulge his cock created with each deep plunge. 

“Feel that, pretty? That’s me, claiming every inch of you. You’re mine, and they’ll never so much as dream of touching what’s sacred.” 

The pressure made stars burst behind your eyelids, amplifying the way he filled you, the head of his cock nudging insistently against your cervix, sending sparks of pleasure-pain radiating through your core.

Suguru’s focus remained solely on you, rolling his hips in a slow, grinding circle, stirring his thick girth inside your fluttering walls. It coaxed fresh gushes of your essence to ease his movements. 

Your pussy was a mess: swollen and sensitive from the prolonged fucking, lips puffy and parted around his invading shaft, clinging to him as if afraid to let go. 

“Such a tight little cunt.” He praised, his tone laced with suave admiration, loud enough to ensure his words carried. “Made for me alone. These fools worship from afar, but only I get to—hah, so wet—worship you like this.”

Your breath hitched, legs wobbling dangerously as the coil in your belly tightened once more.

“I– I can’t... it’s too much, nhh!” You whispered, stuttering through the words, your voice barely audible over the slick rhythm of his thrusts. 

But even as you said it, your hips pushed back instinctively, chasing the friction, betraying your shy protests.

“You can, and you will.” Suguru cooed, his hand on your throat loosening just a fraction to let you gasp for air, thumb stroking your pulse point soothingly. 

He punctuated his sentence with a particularly deep thrust, his cock bottoming out until you felt the bulge of him pressing against your lower abdomen from the inside, a visible swell under your skin that made you gasp. Your hand flew to your stomach instinctively, fingers splaying over the obscene outline of his dick reshaping you.

Your first orgasm crashed over you without mercy, a tidal wave that seized your muscles and dragged a keening cry from your lips. Your pussy convulsed around his cock, walls rippling in tight, milking squeezes that tried to pull him deeper, your juices gushing out to soak his thighs. 

“F-Fuck! Suguru—oh god, I’m c-cumming!” The words dissolved into a slur of nonsense, your vision blurring as pleasure ripped through you, legs giving out entirely. 

Only his hold kept you from crumbling – hand firm on your hip, the other guiding your head back so you could feel his smirk against your skin.

“Mmm, that’s my girl.” Suguru purred, his free hand roaming up from your hip to cup one of your breasts, thumb flicking over the hardened nipple.

 He didn’t stop, didn’t let up, fucking you through the aftershocks with shallow, grinding thrusts that prolonged the ecstasy until you were sobbing softly, oversensitive and trembling. 

The cult remained deathly still, their breaths held in reverence, but you could feel the weight of their attention, the forbidden thrill of it all making your clit throb anew. The exposure made you squirm, a fresh blush creeping down your neck – your tits bouncing with every thrust, fully bared to the room, even if eyes were forbidden. 

“These are perfect too. So soft, so full. Bet they’d look even better—nghh,—swollen with my kid.” The breeding kink laced into his words sent a jolt straight to your core, your pussy fluttering in response, squeezing him tighter.

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan, but it escaped anyway. 

“Suguuu…! Not here... they’re l– listening…” Your voice was a pathetic slur, words tripping over themselves as pleasure coiled tighter. 

The light pressure on your throat amplified everything, making your head swim, breaths shallow and hot. His fingers, long and elegant, spanned the column of your neck easily, a reminder of his strength, his control.

A sudden gasp from the crowd shattered the illusion of perfect obedience. 

One of the followers – a younger man near the edge of the front row – had dared to lift his head, eyes wide with forbidden curiosity, stealing a glimpse of your exposed form, the way Suguru’s cock disappeared into your dripping folds. 

The air thickened instantly, a malevolent energy crackling as Suguru’s curse stirred to life without a word from him. 

A grotesque, shadowy tendril erupted from the floor, coiling around the intruder’s neck like a serpent before yanking him backward with brutal force. A choked scream cut short into a wet gurgle, the body convulsing once before going limp, dragged into the darkness beyond the torchlight.

You froze, a sharp yelp escaping your throat as terror spiked through the haze of lust. Your pussy clenched hard around Suguru’s cock in reflexive fear, eyes darting wildly toward the disturbance, heart pounding against your ribs. 

“Wh– What was—oh god, Suguru, he—”

Suguru’s response was immediate, soothing, his thrusts slowing to a gentle rock that kept his cock nestled deep inside your fluttering pussy.

“Shh, shh, my love,” he cooed, lips pressing soft kisses to your temple, his grip on your hip turning tender, thumb stroking soothing circles. 

“It’s nothing. Just a little lesson for the unworthy. Focus on me, yeah?” His voice was a warm murmur, wrapping around your panic like silk, drawing your attention back to the heat of him buried in your core. 

The light chokehold eased, his fingers tracing your jaw instead, tilting your face so you could meet his dark, reassuring gaze over your shoulder.

Your fear ebbed as he resumed his rhythm, slower now, but no less deep, each slide of his thick shaft dragging against your oversensitive walls and reigniting the fire. 

“You’re safe with me.” He whispered, nipping at your earlobe. “No one touches what’s mine. Now, be my good girl and let me take care of you.”

His hand slipped from your jaw back to your throat when your knees buckled once more and threatened to give out, while the one on your hip pulled you flush against him, his chest to your back like a shield.

You melted into him, the spook fading under the onslaught of sensation. 

“Okay... f– fuck, Suguru, don’t stop… nha!" The words slurred out again, moans bubbling up as he picked up speed, his cock plunging in and out with lewd, slick sounds that echoed off the walls. 

Your pussy, still clenching from your first climax, adjusted to him greedily, inner muscles hugging every inch of his veined length, the way his girth stretched you to the brink of pain and pleasure.

Suguru’s praises flowed like honey, each one designed to elevate you, to remind everyone listening of your exalted status. 

“So sensitive ’nd perfect… your pussy’s weeping for more, isn’t it? Gripping me like—shit!—a vice, milking my cock as if it needs my cum to survive.”

His need to breed you simmered beneath the words, voice dropping to a husky growl. “And it does. No one else gets this honor. No one but me gets to see you– mmf– bloom with my child.”

The idea sent a fresh gush of wetness flooding around him, your walls fluttering wildly. You were close again, so close, the pressure building unbearably as his cock stretched you, the veins pulsing against your sensitive nerves. 

“Haah, ’m close!” You whined, eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

"Cum for me, then," He commanded smugly, his hand slipping from your throat to pinch and roll your nipple, the dual sensations tipping you over. 

“It’s g-gonna... ah! I’m—f-fuck, again!" You could barely form the words, your voice a stuttered mess, cut off by the high-pitched keen as your climax tore through you. 

This one was deeper, more intense, your pussy spasming wildly around him, gushing fresh slick that trickled down your legs. The walls of your cunt milked him desperately, fluttering and contracting in rhythmic pulls that had him cursing under his breath. 

Your body arched in his hold, the light chokehold keeping you grounded as ecstasy blurred your vision, toes curling so hard they ached.

As your vision cleared, hazy and blissed-out, you felt the fullness of him still inside, his cock twitching with restraint. Your shyness crept back in waves, cheeks burning at the thought of your exposure, but Suguru’s worshipful touch kept it at bay. 

He turned your head gently, capturing your lips in a deep kiss, tongue delving to taste your moans, his hand returning to your hip to guide you back into motion.

“One more for me?” He asked against your mouth, though it was less a question and more a promise, his smooth demeanor unbroken even as sweat beaded on his brow. 

You nodded weakly, words failing you entirely now, reduced to whimpers as he resumed his pace: faster this time, chasing his own peak while building yours anew. The swell in your belly reformed with each plunge, a visible reminder of his dominance, and he pressed down on it again, murmuring praises. 

“Y’feel so good, pretty… ’m so deep it might take.” He purred.

You stuttered nonsense – “M– More, please, Suguru—c-can’t think—” – cut off by gasps as he angled to grind against your clit, the friction igniting fresh fire.

“You don’t need to think, sweetheart,” he soothed, nipping at your shoulder. “Just let me take care of you, okay? I’ll fill you up nicely.” 

His boasts rang out clearer, a deliberate taunt to the bowed masses, emphasizing your exclusivity.

You nodded shakily, "Y-Yeah... fuck me..." And he did, resuming with care, building you up slowly. 

The third orgasm crept up insidious, your sensitivity making every drag of his cock electric. 

Praises followed: “Such a g-good girl, taking it after that. Gonna– oh, fuck– gonna pump you full, watch your belly swell with my seed.”

When you came again, it was with a wail, body convulsing, pussy flooding him. 

He followed seconds later, cum erupting in thick spurts, filling you until it leaked out, warm and sticky. "Take every drop– shit, pretty girl. You’re mine, all mine."

He held you after, whispering affections, the cult forgotten in your shared bliss.

And by the time he carried you away, you couldn’t bring yourself to care for the screams of terror that echoed through the hall behind you. After all, no one but Suguru was able to see and hear you, and live to tell the tale. 

a/n: okay im on fire people. next up is plug choso drabble.

divider by @/uzmacchiato!

Metal jaws clamped down with brutal force, yanking you off balance. You crumpled to the forest floor with a sharp cry, the bear trap’s teeth biting deep into your calf. Pain radiated like fire, hot and unrelenting, as blood welled up, soaking your pant leg. 

Your tail thrashed in panic, ears flattening against your skull. You clawed at the dirt, trying to pull free, but the trap held fast, chains rattling against a buried stake. 

Tears blurred your vision, sobs escaping in ragged bursts: trapped; alone. The forest seemed to close in, indifferent to your plight.

Hours passed – or was it minutes? The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows that danced mockingly around you. 

Your leg throbbed, the bleeding slowing to a sticky ooze, but weakness crept in, sapping your strength. You tugged weakly at the trap again, whimpering as fresh pain lanced through you. 

That’s when you heard it: heavy footsteps, deliberate and unhurried, crunching through the underbrush.

He emerged from the trees like a shadow given form: Ryomen Sukuna, though you didn’t know his name yet. 

Broad-shouldered and towering, his frame filled the space between the trunks. His pink hair caught the fading light, spiked and wild, and his face bore tattoos that twisted across his skin. 

Crimson eyes scanned the area with predatory sharpness. He wore simple clothes: a black shirt stretched taut over his muscled chest, pants tucked into boots caked with mud. 

A hunter, you realized with a jolt, the rifle slung over his shoulder confirming it. 

His gaze locked onto you, and for a moment, the world stilled. Those eyes narrowed, assessing. You froze, ears pinning back, tail curling tight against your body. 

He was enormous, intimidating, his presence radiating a quiet menace that made your heart hammer. He stepped closer, boots thudding softly, and you shrank back, the trap’s chain jerking your leg painfully.

“What the hell…” He grumbled, voice low and gravelly, more to himself than you. 

Crouching a safe distance away, he placed his elbows on his knees, studying the trap. His eyes flicked to your face, then to your ears and tail, noting the hybrid traits without surprise. The forest was full of strays like you.

You whimpered, trying to scoot away, but the pain shot up your leg, forcing a gasp from your lips. Blood trickled anew, staining the leaves beneath you. 

“P-Please,” you whispered, voice trembling, “help…?”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened. He reached out slowly, gloved hands – rough from years of handling traps and rifles – testing the mechanism. 

The trap was one of his, set for bears that wandered too close to his territory. He hadn’t expected this. 

With a grunt, he pried the jaws open, the metal groaning in protest. You yanked your leg free the instant it gave, scrambling back on hands and knees, ignoring the fire in your muscles.

Freedom hit like a rush, but it was short-lived. 

Your injured leg buckled immediately, sending you sprawling. Blood smeared across the dirt as you tried to stand, leaning on a tree for support. 

Panic surged: you had to run. He was too big, too dangerous. Hunters like him didn’t take kindly to intruders, hybrid or not. Your ears flicked wildly, catching his steady breathing behind you.

You bolted – or tried to. The first step was agony, your calf screaming as you limped forward, tail streaming behind like a flag of distress. 

You made it ten paces, maybe fifteen, before your vision swam and your knee gave out. You collapsed against a fallen log, clutching your leg, sobs wracking your body. The forest spun, the pain too much, the blood loss making your head light.

Footsteps again, closer this time. Sukuna stood over you, arms crossed, his shadow engulfing you. He debated it then –  you could see it in the furrow of his brow, the way his eyes traced your trembling form. 

Leave her, a voice in his head probably said. She’s not your problem. The woods were cruel; strays didn’t last long. 

But something held him – maybe the way your ears drooped in defeat, or the blood pooling beneath you. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head. 

“Idiot,” he grunted, though whether to you or himself, you couldn’t tell.

Before you could protest, strong arms scooped you up, one under your knees, the other around your back. 

You stiffened, ears flattening, a startled yelp escaping as he lifted you effortlessly. His body was warm, solid, the scent of pine and earth clinging to him. 

“Don’t squirm.” He commanded flatly, voice devoid of warmth but not cruelty. “You’ll bleed out faster.”

You went limp in his hold, too weak to fight, your tail brushing against his arm. 

The walk to his cabin was a blur of jostling motion and throbbing pain, the forest fading into twilight. His log cabin loomed ahead, sturdy and isolated, smoke curling from the chimney. He kicked the door open with his boot and carried you inside, the warmth of a fire greeting you like an embrace.

The interior was sparse: wooden walls lined with shelves of jars and tools, a stone hearth crackling with flames, a worn couch and table. 

He set you down on the couch gently – surprisingly so for his size – propping your leg on a stool. You watched him warily, ears twitching, as he fetched a first-aid kit from a cabinet. His movements were efficient, no wasted energy.

He knelt before you, gloved hands peeling back your torn pant leg to expose the wound. It was ugly: deep punctures, torn flesh, but not broken bone. 

You winced as he cleaned it with antiseptic, the sting making tears well up. He worked in silence, his focus intense, those four eyes flicking between the injury and your face to gauge your pain.

“Hurts.” You whimpered, more to fill the quiet than anything.

“Yeah, no shit.” He replied curtly, wrapping the bandage tight. No more words. 

He stood, towering over you again, and pointed to a door. “Bedroom’s that way. Rest.” 

You nodded, hobbling to the small room with its simple bed and quilt. Exhaustion claimed you instantly, the pain a dull roar as sleep pulled you under.

The first week blurred into a rhythm of silence and necessity. Your leg healed slowly, the wound scabbing over under Sukuna’s reluctant care. 

He changed the bandages daily, his large hands surprisingly deft, but he never lingered. Meals appeared on the table: stew from rabbit or vegetables he’d grown in his garden, bread baked in his oven. You’d eat while he sat across, staring into the fire or sharpening a knife, the scrape of metal the only sound.

Awkwardness hung thick in the air. You’d catch him watching you sometimes, those crimson eyes giving him an unnerving depth, like he saw more than you wanted. Your ears would perk at his approach, tail flicking nervously, and you’d avert your gaze, focusing on the window where the woods pressed close.

One evening, as rain pattered against the roof, you sat by the fire, leg propped up, sketching idly on a scrap of paper he’d left out: simple lines of trees and your lost herd. 

Ryomen entered from outside, shaking water from his hair, his shirt clinging damply to his broad chest. He glanced at your drawing, pausing.

“You draw.” He noted, not a question.

You nodded, ears twitching. "A little, but I’m not any good. Helps... pass time."

He grunted, hanging his coat. "That yer herd?"

“Yeah… I lost them.” You whispered, tail drooping against your back.

Silence again. He poked at the fire, sparks flying. “Woods eat loners.”

You swallowed, the words hitting too close. “I know.”

He didn’t press, just ladled stew into bowls and handed you one. You ate in quiet companionship, the rain a soothing backdrop. His presence was a wall – impenetrable, but not hostile. 

Subtly, you noticed things: the way his shoulders relaxed slightly when you didn’t flinch at his nearness, how he’d leave extra blankets when nights grew cold.

By the second week, you could hobble around the cabin unaided, testing your leg on short walks to the door. 

The forest called to you, but fear kept you inside: fear of the wild, and oddly, of leaving this strange sanctuary.

Sukuna watched from afar, his debates internal now. Why keep her? But he did, fetching herbs from the woods to brew tea for your lingering ache.

One afternoon, sunlight filtering through the windows, you found him outside chopping wood. 

The axe rose and fell with rhythmic power, muscles flexing under his shirt, sweat glistening on his tattooed skin. You lingered in the doorway, ears perked, mesmerized by the controlled strength.

He noticed, pausing mid-swing. “Leg better?”

“Yeah,” you admitted softly, stepping out gingerly. The air was crisp, pine-scented. “Thanks... for everything.”

He wiped his brow, eyes meeting yours. “Don’t mention it.”

You smiled faintly, tail swishing. “What’s it like? Living here alone.”

A shrug. “Quiet. Suits me.” He resumed chopping, but slower, as if inviting the conversation. “You? Herd’s loud, right?”

"Comforting," you admitted, leaning against the porch rail. “But yeah, noisy. Miss it sometimes.”

He nodded once, axe embedding in the block. The silence returned, comfortable now, laced with unspoken understanding. You stayed there, watching him work, the slow thaw between you beginning to crack the ice.

Days stretched into the third week. Your leg strengthened, scabs slowly fading to pink lines. 

Interactions grew in tiny increments: a shared glance over breakfast, where he’d push the salt your way without asking; evenings by the fire, where you’d read an old book from his shelf while he whittled wood into shapes: abstract, fierce things that mirrored his character.

One night, thunder rumbled outside, echoing your long-ago storm. You woke sweating, ears flat, tail tucked, the dream of separation vivid. A creak in the hall: Sukuna, checking on you as he sometimes did silently.

“Bad dream?” He said from the doorway, voice rough with sleep.

You sat up, nodding. “Something like that. Just– got reminded of the herd again is all.”

He hesitated, then entered, sitting on the edge of the bed. His weight dipped the mattress, but he kept space between you. “You’re not alone now.”

The words hung, simple but weighted. Your ears lifted slightly, fluffy tail twitching. “I know.”

He stayed until your breathing evened, his presence a quiet anchor. No more words, but the gesture spoke volumes.

As the weeks waned, the awkwardness softened into something tentative, unspoken. 

You’d help with small tasks: stirring pots while he hunted, your tail brushing his leg accidentally, sending a jolt through both of you. He’d grunt apologies, but his eyes lingered longer, tracing the curve of your ears, the sway of your hips as you moved.

One crisp morning, you stood at the window, gazing at the woods. Freedom beckoned, but so did the man behind you, his footsteps approaching.

“Thinking of leaving?” he asked, voice low.

You turned, meeting his gaze. "Maybe. But... not yet."

A rare smirk tugged at his lips, tattoos shifting. "Good."

The crisp mornings gave way to warmer days, the forest awakening with a subtle shift in the air. Leaves unfurled brighter greens, and the underbrush hummed with the stirrings of life. 

You felt it too – a restlessness deep in your core, a warmth that bloomed unbidden as heat season edged closer. Your body, attuned to the rhythms of nature like the rest of your kind, began to respond. 

It started faintly: a flush creeping up your neck when you caught sight of Sukuna across the room, your doe ears twitching more frequently, your tail flicking in short, agitated bursts. 

You shifted in your seat during meals, crossing and uncrossing your legs, the wooden chair creaking under the subtle movements.

Sukuna noticed, though he gave no sign of it at first. 

As a human, his senses weren’t sharpened like yours, but the cabin was small, the air thick with shared space. Your scent – earthy and sweet, like wildflowers crushed underfoot – grew stronger each day, weaving through the smells of woodsmoke and stewed meat.

It lingered on the blankets you’d borrowed, clung to the air when you passed him in the narrow hallway. He caught it one evening while sharpening his knife by the fire, the blade gliding smoothly over the whetstone. 

You sat nearby, mending a tear in your sweater, your fingers fumbling slightly as another wave of heat flushed your cheeks.

He paused, the scrape of metal halting for a beat longer than usual. His eyes flicked toward you, then away, jaw clenching subtly. 

The scent hit him fuller now, stirring something primal he shoved down deep. He resumed sharpening, the rhythm faster, more deliberate, as if to drown out the distraction. 

“Pass the salt.” He began gruffly when you both reached for the bowl at dinner, his hand brushing yours briefly. 

The contact sent a spark through you, making your tail curl tight against your thigh. You pulled back quickly, ears flattening, a soft pink tinting your skin.

“Sorry.” You squeaked, voice barely audible above the crackle of the fire. 

You shifted again, tucking your legs beneath you on the couch, the movement drawing his gaze for a split second before he looked back to his plate. He grunted in response, forking into his venison without another word. 

The silence stretched, heavier now, laced with an undercurrent neither of you acknowledged. 

You could feel his awareness, the way his broad shoulders tensed when you stood to clear the table, your hips swaying just a fraction more than necessary as the warmth pooled low in your belly.

Nights grew warmer, the quilt too heavy some evenings. You tossed in the small bedroom, ears perked to the sounds of the cabin settling – the creak of floorboards as Sukuna moved about, the distant hoot of an owl outside. 

Your scent intensified with the rising temperature, seeping under the door like an invitation you hadn’t meant to send. He lay in his own room, staring at the rafters, the air thick with it. 

Human or not, it affected him: a tightening in his chest, a heat of his own that he ignored by focusing on the hunt planned for dawn. 

He rolled over, groaning into the pillow, willing sleep to come.

By midweek, the signs were impossible to miss. 

You found yourself lingering near him more, drawn by an instinct you couldn’t name. 

While he chopped wood outside, you watched from the porch, your flush deepening as sweat traced lines down his tattooed arms, his shirt clinging to the broad expanse of his back. 

Your tail swished restlessly, and you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, the ache in your leg long forgotten but replaced by this new, insistent pull. 

He glanced up once, axe pausing mid-air, his nostrils flaring almost imperceptibly. The scent wrapped around him, sweet and insistent, making his grip tighten on the handle.

“Need something?” He asked, voice rougher than usual, eyes locking onto yours – all four piercing, unreadable.

You shook your head, ears drooping slightly as you stepped back inside, the door clicking shut behind you. Heart pounding, you pressed a hand to your warm cheek, wondering if he could hear the rapid beat from outside. 

He swung the axe harder after that, embedding it deep into the block with each strike, the physical exertion a barrier against the growing tension.

Afternoons brought small tasks that amplified the awkwardness. 

You helped sort herbs he’d gathered – drying them on racks by the window – your fingers brushing his as you passed bundles. 

Each time, you flushed, shifting away with a quiet apology, your tail flicking against his leg once by accident. He froze for a heartbeat, the contact electric, your scent blooming sharper in the confined space. 

“Watch it.” He warned, not harshly, but stepping back to give you room. His movements grew more deliberate, putting distance between you under the guise of efficiency.

Yet he didn’t send you away. Meals remained shared, silences filled with the subtle dance of avoidance. 

One evening, as twilight painted the cabin in soft oranges, you sat by the fire, knees drawn up, trying to read but finding the words blurring. The heat simmered under your skin, making you shift restlessly, the couch cushions sighing under you. 

Sukuna entered from the porch, carrying a pail of water, his frame filling the doorway. Water dripped from his hands, and he set the pail down with a thud, the sound echoing your quickened breath.

He caught the scent again, stronger now, mingling with the damp earth on his clothes. It pulled at him, testing his resolve, but he crossed to the kitchen, back turned, pouring the water into a pot with unnecessary focus. 

You watched his shoulders, the way they rose and fell with controlled breaths, and felt your own flush spread, ears twitching forward. It was obvious, you knew – your shifting, the way your eyes lingered – but so was his effort to remain unaffected, the subtle clench of his fists at his sides.

“Cold out there?” You questioned softly, breaking the quiet, your voice laced with the warmth you couldn’t hide.

He glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing slightly. “Not really.” A pause, then he added, “you warm enough?”

The question hung, double-edged, and you nodded too quickly, tail curling around your ankle. “Yeah. Fine.”

He turned back to the stove, stirring whatever simmered there, the spoon clinking rhythmically. Neither pushed further, the tension coiling tighter in the unspoken space between you. 

Heat season loomed, promising more, but for now, it simmered in glances and silences, building like the fire before you.

The days blurred into a pattern of restraint. You’d catch yourself staring when he whittled by the window, the knife carving precise lines into the wood, his large hands steady despite the undercurrent. 

Your scent filled the cabin more each morning, greeting him upon waking, and he’d open the windows wider, letting the breeze carry it away – or so he told himself. 

But it followed him into the woods during hunts, a ghost that made his steps heavier, his focus sharper on the prey to distract from the pull back home.

One afternoon, rain returned, soft and steady, drumming on the roof. You paced the living room subtly, unable to sit still, the flush permanent now on your skin. 

Sukuna returned soaked, shaking off his coat in the entryway, water pooling at his boots. The fresh rain mixed with your scent, creating something headier, and he paused, inhaling deeply before schooling his expression.

“Wet out.” He pointed out flatly, hanging the coat and avoiding your eyes as he toed off his boots.

You nodded, shifting from foot to foot near the fire. “Smells like it.”

Your ears perked at his approach, tail swishing once before you stilled it. He moved to the hearth, adding logs with efficient motions, his arm brushing close enough that you felt the heat radiating from him. 

A shiver ran through you, not from cold, and you stepped aside, cheeks burning.

He didn’t comment, just stoked the flames higher, the warmth chasing the chill but amplifying your own. Dinner passed in near-silence, forks scraping plates, your leg bouncing under the table until you caught his glance and forced it still. 

Obvious wants hung in the air: yours in the flush and fidgets, his in the way he lingered at the table after, eyes tracing the fire instead of you.

As night fell, the rain a lullaby, you retreated to your room, the door a flimsy barrier. Your scent permeated everything now, a silent confession. 

Sukuna sat up later, alone by the dying embers, rubbing a hand over his face. Unaffected? Hardly. But he wouldn’t act – not yet. 

Heat season arrived without mercy, your body igniting from the inside out. 

You didn’t fully understand it – clueless to the full implications, your deer instincts overriding any sense of propriety. The cabin felt smaller, the air thicker, and every brush of fabric against your skin sent sparks racing through you. 

You paced the living room in nothing but one of Sukuna’s oversized shirts, the hem skimming your thighs, your scut wagging erratically behind you. Your ears flicked at every sound, and a persistent ache throbbed between your legs, making you shift your hips without thinking.

Sukuna watched from the kitchen, his eyes narrowing as you bent over to pick up a fallen book, the shirt riding up to expose the curve of your ass. Your scent flooded the space, heady and intoxicating, pulling at him like a tether. 

You straightened, oblivious, and stretched your arms overhead, the motion arching your back and pressing your breasts against the thin fabric. Nipples hardened visibly, and you let out a soft, unwitting whimper, rubbing your thighs together as you moved to the couch. 

He gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening, forcing his gaze away. 

“Gonna cut wood.” He decided, voice gravelly, grabbing his axe and stalking out the door before the temptation grew any stronger.

Alone, the heat clawed deeper. You tried to distract yourself, but your body betrayed you: fingers trailing absently over your collarbone, down to the hem of the shirt, lifting it slightly as you sat on the floor by the fire. Legs parted just enough to ease the pressure, you rocked subtly, a flush painting your cheeks rosy. 

It wasn’t deliberate; you just needed relief from the fire building inside. When that failed, you wandered, drawn to his room by the familiar scent of him on the sheets. 

Climbing onto his bed, you buried your face in his pillow, inhaling deeply. The ache intensified, and before you knew it, your hips ground down against the soft mound of fabric, a desperate friction that made your tail flag up.

Tears pricked your eyes as the motion brought fleeting sparks of pleasure, but it wasn’t enough. You humped the pillow pathetically, soft sobs escaping as your body wept for more. Clueless to how vulnerable you looked – shirt hiked up, ass in the air, ears flattened in frustration – you kept moving, chasing the elusive release.

Outside, the axe bit into wood with rhythmic thuds, each swing a release for Sukuna’s pent-up tension. Sweat beaded on his brow, his muscles flexing under inked skin, but your scent clung to him even here, a ghost in the breeze. 

He worked longer than needed, trying to outrun the pull, but eventually, the pile of logs satisfied him enough to head back. The cabin door creaked open to silence: no soft footsteps, no shifting on the couch. 

“Sweetheart? Where are you?” He called, voice echoing off the walls. No answer. Frowning, he checked the kitchen, the porch, then pushed open his bedroom door.

There you were, on his bed, hips rolling against the pillow in desperate, uneven thrusts. Tears streaked your face, your doe ears trembling, tail flicking in distress. 

The sight hit him like a punch – your flushed skin, the way your pussy glistened with arousal, lips parted on quiet mewls. His cock twitched hard in his pants, blood rushing south as he stood frozen in the doorway.

“Kuna… mmh!” Your voice came out small, broken, as you lifted your head, eyes glassy with need. You didn’t stop moving, hips grinding down instinctively, but shame flickered in your gaze. “Help... please? It h– hurts…”

He crossed the room in two strides, the door clicking shut behind him. Towering over you, his broad frame cast a shadow, vermillion eyes dark with hunger. 

“Fuck, angel…” He growled low, sitting on the bed’s edge and pulling you up by your arms. 

You whimpered at the manhandling, body pliant in his grip. “W-Wait—”

“I’ve been holding back for weeks. Watching you tease without even knowing it, and that damn scent everywhere…”

His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing away tears, and he kissed you then: gentle at first, lips soft against yours, tongue coaxing your mouth open. You melted into it, mewling softly, your hands clutching his shirt as the ache pulsed hotter. 

He broke away, breathing ragged. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart. But tell me if it’s too much.”

You nodded frantically, pleading with your eyes, and he eased you back onto the bed, stripping the shirt from your body. Naked now, you shivered under his gaze, but the heat made you bold – legs parting slightly, inviting him without words. 

He shed his clothes quickly, his thick cock springing free, veined and heavy, tip already leaking. Your eyes widened, clueless innocence mixing with raw want, and you reached for him tentatively.

“Gentle, pretty thing.” He murmured, praise lacing his voice as he settled between your thighs. 

His large frame loomed over you, the warmth of his body contrasting the cool sheets beneath. One hand stroked your hair, fingers tangling gently in the soft strands near your deer-like ears, which twitched at the touch. 

You felt exposed, your hybrid tail flicking nervously against the mattress, but his presence grounded you, making your core ache with need.

He didn’t rush to claim you fully. Instead, his free hand trailed down your side, tracing the curve of your hip, then dipping lower to your inner thigh. 

“So ready f’me, aren’t you?.” Sukuna said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers through your spine. 

His fingers brushed against your slick folds, and you gasped, hips bucking instinctively toward the contact. “Mmf!” He chuckled softly, the sound dark and approving. “Easy, pretty. Don’t wanna hurt you yet..”

His thumb parted your pussy lips gently, exposing your clit to the air, and you whimpered, your antlers scraping lightly against the pillow as you tilted your head back. He watched your reactions closely, his crimson eyes intense, drinking in every quiver and soft sound you made.

“Tell me what you want.” He commanded, his tone firm but laced with that teasing edge that made your heart race.

“T-Touch me... please.” You breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. 

Your hands clutched at the sheets, nails digging in as his finger circled your entrance, gathering your wetness. He pressed one thick digit inside slowly, the intrusion stretching you just enough to make you moan. 

It was nothing like his cock, but the sensation was electric, your walls clenching around him immediately.

“Like that?” Sukuna asked, his lips curving into a smirk as he crooked his finger, brushing against that sensitive spot inside you. 

You nodded, a whine escaping your throat, your tail thrashing side to side. He added a second finger, scissoring them carefully to open you up, his movements deliberate and unhurried. 

The stretch burned faintly, but it melted into pleasure as he began to pump them in and out, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing firm circles over it.

Your breath hitched, legs spreading wider to give him better access. “S-Sukuna... it feels... ah!” 

The words dissolved into a cry as he increased the pace, his fingers thrusting deeper, curling with each withdrawal to hit that bundle of nerves again and again. Wet sounds filled the room, obscene and intoxicating, your arousal coating his hand. 

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear, nipping at the soft fur there. “You’re soaking my fingers, pretty girl. So tight and perfect for me.”

You arched into his touch, your breasts heaving with each ragged breath. His other hand left your side to cup one, thumb flicking over your nipple, pinching just hard enough to make you yelp. 

The double sensations overwhelmed you: his fingers fucking into your pussy, stretching and filling you, while his mouth descended to your neck, sucking a mark into the sensitive skin where your pulse fluttered wildly. 

“More... gimme– gimme more,” you begged, your voice breaking, hips grinding against his hand shamelessly.

He obliged, adding a third finger, the fullness making your eyes roll back. 

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He growled approvingly, his fingers pistoning faster now, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit with every thrust. 

You could feel the pressure building, a coil tightening low in your belly, your deer ears flattening against your head as pleasure bordered on too much. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, not from pain but from the intensity, your body trembling under him.

“P-Please..!” You

“That’s it, let go for me.” Sukuna urged, his voice husky as he watched your face contort in ecstasy. 

He twisted his fingers inside you, rubbing relentlessly against your g-spot, while his thumb pressed harder on your swollen clit. The combination shattered you – your walls clamped down on his fingers, pulsing as the orgasm crashed over you like a wave.

“Mmh– Ryo!” You cried out, body convulsing, thighs quaking around his wrist as slick gushed over his hand, soaking the sheets beneath.

He didn’t stop immediately, drawing out your release with slow, gentle strokes until you whimpered from oversensitivity, your tail curling around his arm in a weak attempt to pull him closer. 

“Good girl,” he praised, withdrawing his fingers with a wet pop, bringing them to his lips to taste you. His eyes locked on yours, dark with promise.

He flipped you suddenly, manhandling you onto your hands and knees with effortless strength, your body pliant under his touch. You scrambled to steady yourself on the mattress, palms sinking into the soft fabric, knees spreading wider as your tail lifted instinctively, baring yourself completely to him. 

The cool air kissed your dripping folds, a brief respite before he positioned himself behind you, the head of his cock teasing your entrance. 

“You want it rough, pretty thing? Begging like that.” His voice was a gravelly command, laced with amusement and hunger.

Before you could respond, his hand came down on your ass – a light slap that stung just enough to make you yelp, the impact sending a ripple through your flesh. Heat bloomed across your skin, mingling with the ache between your legs. 

Then he thrust back in from behind, the new angle allowing him to sink even deeper, his cock spearing into you with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs. 

“Oh! Kuna… so– so big!” You sobbed in pleasure, the stretch more intense now, every inch of him pressing against your sensitive spots as he bottomed out.

Your arms trembled, threatening to give out as you pushed back against him, desperate to feel him everywhere. The slap had left your ass tingling, a warm contrast to the cool sheets, and you arched your back further, presenting yourself like the submissive hybrid you were. 

Ears flattening completely, you let out a string of moans, each one higher pitched as the pressure built anew. His hand moved to your antlers, tugging them firmly to guide your head up, forcing you to arch more, your neck straining in the best way.

“Hah, fuck, crying for my cock, hm? Such a good girl, taking it all.” Sukuna’s praise washed over you like liquid fire, igniting your emotions – pride in pleasing him, a deep-seated need to submit, to be his. 

He kept the pull steady, not painful but insistent, making you feel owned as he rutted into you. Each thrust was deliberate, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, the drag of his veined length against your walls making obscene squelching noises. 

Your pussy fluttered around him, juices coating his shaft and dripping down your thighs, the physical sensations overwhelming: the burn in your muscles from holding the position, the slap of his hips against your reddened ass, the way his cock throbbed inside you, hot and unyielding.

You rocked back to meet him, your tail brushing loosely against his thigh in an instinctive gesture of affection amid the roughness. The orgasm you’d felt building earlier surged closer now, coiling tight in your core, your clit throbbing untouched but stimulated by the indirect pressure of his invasions.

Sukuna’s breaths grew ragged, his hand on your hip sliding forward to press against your lower belly, feeling the bulge of his own cock moving inside you. 

“Shit, you’re tight... milking me so good.” He muttered, his voice strained with his own rising pleasure. He released your hair momentarily to deliver another light slap to your other cheek, the sound sharp in the room, making you clench harder around him. 

The duplicity – pain and pleasure – pushed you closer, your sobs turning into keening cries as the tension wound unbearably tight.

He tugged your antlers again, gentler this time, but enough to keep your gaze forward. His thrusts lost a bit of their rhythm, becoming erratic as he chased his release, but he didn’t let up on the depth, each one punching the air from your lungs. 

You felt him everywhere: the heat of his body over yours, the possessive hold, the way his cock pulsed with impending climax. 

Emotionally, it was intoxicating; you were his, completely, and the thought alone made your walls spasm.

“Gonna fill you up, angel. Pump you full until you’re bred, carrying my scent forever.” 

The words made you whine, clenching harder, and you came again: shaking, tears streaming as waves crashed over you. “Ah! I’m gonna– cumming!”

He chuckled, voice strained. “Fuck, listen to you. So desperate for my cum. Nghh– an’ you’re shy now? After slutting out on my—haah—bed?”

You hid your face in the pillow, flushing deeper, but your hips ground back, asking for more without words. He pulled out briefly, flipping you onto your back once more, hooking your legs over his shoulders. 

The position folded you, letting him drive in deep, balls slapping against your ass with each rough pound. His eyes – the prettiest, deepest red – locked on yours, wild and possessive. “Don’t hide, sweetheart. Want you looking at me when you cum again.”

Pleasure dumbed your mind, thoughts scattering into nothing but him – his cock stretching you, his grunts, the pull on your hair as he leaned down to capture your lips. 

You came a third time, crying out his name, body convulsing as he chased his own release. 

“That’s my girl.” He praised, thrusting erratically. “Milk me dry, pretty thing. Gonna breed this pussy.”

With a final, deep shove, he buried himself and came – hot spurts flooding you, his groan rumbling through his chest. You felt every pulse, the warmth spreading, and it triggered one last, shuddering orgasm from you, tears of pure bliss soaking the sheets. 

He collapsed gently atop you, still inside, peppering your face with soft kisses. “Good job, angel. Took me so well.”

You panted, cockdrunk haze settling, shying into his neck with a whimper. 

He chuckled tiredly, stroking your back. “Heat’s not over yet, sweetheart.”

a/n: I COOKED I COOKED SO HARD

dividers by @/uzmacchiato!