#menchichew

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⋆

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."

“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.

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."