kaiserin-belladonna - Tumblr blog

kaiserin-belladonna · 5 months ago

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彼岸花

Characters/fandoms/pairings: Yandere! Honda Kiku || Japan [Hetalia] x F! Reader.

Warning: This story will contain explicit yandere themes, proceed with caution [includes mentions of graphic violence and implied stalking]

Author's note: this idea for a short drabble had been on my mind for days after seeing this yandere japan fanart by @purplemistbutterfly and I just had to write it. Wc- 4, 557.

Also, remember that lot has been going around the world lately, try to educate yourself and contribute as much as you can.

The glow of neon lights wrapped around you like a comforting embrace as you lounged on a plush sofa, the strains of your own recordings playing softly in the background. Each note echoed through the modest bar, creating a dreamy atmosphere that felt almost otherworldly. The chandelier flickered, casting delicate colors across the room, and for a moment, you felt suspended in a haze, as if the world around you had faded away.

In the background, the clinking of glasses and the soft murmur of conversation filled the air. A waitress, young and diligent, bustled about, balancing trays of drinks with practiced grace, exchanging light banter with the bartender, who was busy mixing cocktails. Their laughter mingled with the music, a gentle reminder of the life that pulsed through the club as it prepared for the evening rush.

With a soft sigh, you swung your legs off the sofa, the hem of your dress swirling around you for an instant. The sharp click of your heels against the floor grounded you, pulling you back into the moment.

You absentmindedly twirled a strand of your hair around your fingers, a pang of longing washing over you. How you wished you could sing forever—such a melodramatic thought, you mused.

Just then, a waitress removed the ashtray from the coffee table, her movements graceful. She caught your eye and offered a warm smile, one that reflected the admiration so many in this lively city had for you. Young yet industrious, she, like others, found joy in your performances, and their support felt like a quiet reminder of your modest fame.

It was the perfect balance—enough recognition to feel appreciated, yet not so much that it became overwhelming. You cherished this intimate space, where your talent was seen and valued, untainted by the harsh demands of larger stages.

With a roll of your shoulders, you decided to freshen up. You applied a light layer of makeup, your dress—a flowing creation with delicate crow motifs—draped around your legs. The fabric shifted with each subtle movement, catching the light in a way that made the motifs seem alive.

You slipped on your heels and styled your hair with careful hands, confident in your skill, the way you always did before a performance. After sending away the helpful crew who insisted on doing it for you, you prepared to step into the night, ready to captivate once more.

The stage shimmered like a midnight sky, lit with soft, silvery lights that twinkled like distant stars. You felt like a solitary bird, singing a lullaby that might go unheard by the vastness of the world, yet here, every note held significance. The melody flowed from your lips, soft and effortless, as your body swayed gently to the rhythm.

The rest of the world faded away, leaving just you, the music, and the connection with those who listened. It was ironic, really—this was when most eyes were on you, and yet you felt as though you were suspended in a private world of your own making.

The audience was a mix of familiar faces and newcomers, all drawn in by the magic you created on stage. Among them were well-dressed gentlemen, some leaning back with arms crossed, others inching forward, their eyes following your every move with intrigued intensity. Nearby, women whispered excitedly, their giggles escaping as they listened. Business elites, seeking respite from the fast-paced world outside, sat quietly, their faces softening as they allowed themselves to relax, appreciating the intimacy of this setting over the grandeur of larger performances.

At other tables, university students exchanged glances between sips of their drinks, entranced by your voice, some even whispering your name as though they’d stumbled upon a secret treasure. Local workers, still in their uniforms, unwound from their long shifts, leaning back in their chairs with drinks in hand, their faces softened with quiet smiles as your melody soothed their weary souls.

In the background, the diligent staff moved seamlessly through the space, balancing trays of drinks, refilling glasses, and clearing tables. The bartender, a seasoned expert with quick hands, mixed cocktails with the precision of an artist, casting the occasional glance toward the stage, a faint smile always tugging at his lips. The waitstaff worked with a rhythm of their own, exchanging light banter with regulars and newcomers alike.

They were your quiet champions, always turning down the big offers from record companies that sought to pull you into the commercialized world of fame. They knew, as you did, that this setting was where you truly wished to be.

Your performance was more than just a routine; it was an extension of yourself, a moment of vulnerability wrapped in music. The spotlight gently framed your figure, casting a soft glow that danced with the notes as they escaped your lips. Your hands lifted, almost as if guiding the melody itself, and for those moments on stage, nothing else mattered.

The sway of your dress, adorned with delicate crow motifs, moved like shadows across the floor, adding an air of mystery to your presence.

And though you weren’t chasing the grandeur of fame, there was a certain power in these performances. The connection you felt with the audience—each gaze, each whisper of your name—made you feel seen in ways that the glare of the public eye never could.

You weren’t a star striving to shine in the vastness of the sky; you were the moon casting light over an enchanted crowd, and in this bar, in this moment, that was enough.

What you didn’t notice was the quiet presence lingering at the edge of the room, like a shadow among the warm glow of lights. Hidden in the dim corners, a pair of dark, inscrutable eyes watched you—deep and unfathomable, reminiscent of still waters reflecting a moonlit sky.

His gaze followed your every movement, simmering with an adoration that burned slowly, as insidious as poison, blending seamlessly with the night. And just before you left the stage, he muttered softly to himself, barely audible over the music,

“カラスは…これから来るものの前兆だ。”

His lips curled into a subtle, unsettling smile, as though the omen had already taken root.

“ダーリン。”

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It was a spur-of-the-moment decision when Feliciano had eagerly dragged Kiku out of the house, his voice embarrassingly loud in front of everyone. With excitement gleaming in his eyes, he insisted that Kiku join him at a nearby bar, one he claimed had a cozy atmosphere.

He went on about the drinks, the people, and especially the woman there whose voice he described as angelic, able to make anyone forget their troubles. Kiku raised an eyebrow—he knew Feliciano, and any woman could be deemed an angel in his eyes, so he wasn’t sure whether anyone could truly live up to that praise.

Despite his reluctance, Kiku followed, feeling a mixture of resignation and annoyance. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged out like this, especially for something so undignified. He could already imagine the kind of chaos Feliciano would create in such a quiet setting.

As they entered the bar, Kiku sighed. The warm lighting and low hum of conversation created a peaceful atmosphere, but he wasn’t impressed. His eyes scanned the room, seeking something of interest to distract himself. That’s when he spotted Ludwig across the room.

Ludwig was seated at a table, his gaze fixed intently on a brunette in a maid outfit who was laughing with a group of friends. Kiku noted how serious Ludwig appeared, his focus unwavering as he studied her every move with an almost unsettling intensity. When their eyes met, Ludwig gave him a brief nod, which Kiku returned with a slight bow. It was typical of Ludwig to maintain such seriousness, even in a casual setting.

Next to Ludwig sat Francis, effortlessly charming a group of businesswomen with his smooth foreign accent. His laughter filled the air easily, a stark contrast to Ludwig’s quiet intensity. Kiku watched the scene with mild amusement. It was familiar, but somehow still entertaining to see Francis working his charm.

Feliciano, oblivious to the dynamics of the group, continued to rave about the bar’s ambiance. Kiku couldn’t decide whether to laugh or sigh. Maybe there was something to enjoy in this unexpected gathering of familiar faces, but he wasn’t convinced.

Then the music began.

A soft, haunting melody slowly rose, weaving through the air like a gentle current, filling the space around them. Kiku, sinking into his seat in one of the private booths, instinctively turned his focus toward the sound. The bar was cozy, the conversation still flowing around him, but it was the music that truly drew him in.

He glanced toward Ludwig again, who seemed to have relaxed a little, a few drinks in, with the brunette now sitting on his lap. Despite the change in posture, the intensity in Ludwig’s gaze remained. Kiku shifted his focus back to the music, feeling the soft notes caress the air. Despite their slow pace, they held power, quieting the noise in his mind.

The voice that accompanied the melody was captivating—rich, smooth, hypnotic. It settled into Kiku’s chest, making his thoughts slow and his senses sharpen. The world around him dimmed as he focused only on the sound, letting the voice wrap around him like a spell. For a brief moment, he forgot where he was, lost to the music.

As the notes filled him, something shifted inside, like a spark igniting in the stillness of his chest. An unfamiliar hunger stirred—dangerous, intoxicating. The voice, the melody—it awoke something deep within him, something he hadn’t been prepared to feel.

Kiku found himself utterly fixated. His usual caution and restraint were slipping away as the voice continued to draw him in. He couldn’t tear his attention away, lost in the depth of it, as if everything else faded into the background.

From that night on, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He watched you from afar, noting the softness in your manner, the strength in your resolve. You were kind, diligent, and full of quiet grace, drawing him in further with each passing day.

Kiku, always careful, had never allowed himself to indulge in such obsession, but now, something darker began to take hold. He hired someone to hack into your devices, learning your secrets, uncovering the hidden corners of your life. Each discovery only deepened his infatuation.

You lived simply, but there was an undeniable elegance in everything you did. Each morning, you made matcha tea, savoring it slowly as you tended to your modest garden. Cherry blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, chrysanthemums bloomed in vibrant bursts, and bonsai trees stood carefully pruned, each one a testament to your patience.

You had a quiet generosity too—leaving bowls of rice or fish out for the stray cats that wandered into your yard, a small act of kindness that you believed brought good fortune. He watched, fascinated by the peace you found in these little rituals.

In the afternoons, you volunteered at the local community center, helping the elderly with their daily tasks. You prepared sweet treats like mochi and dorayaki, listening to their stories, sharing in their wisdom. You were always engaged, always giving, connecting deeply with the community around you.

And when the seasonal festivals came around, you danced with your neighbors, laughed with friends, and participated in the celebrations that honored yourself. The kindness you spread was subtle but powerful, a thread that tied you to the people around you. To him.

Kiku couldn't stop watching, couldn't stop learning more about you. You were everywhere he looked—your life, your kindness, your quiet grace—it all consumed him, filling the space in his mind, until it became impossible to ignore.

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"生一緒にいたい"

He repeated it over and over, the words slipping past his lips like a prayer, each time more fervently, each time more desperate. The phrase carved itself into his soul, filling the hollow space within him.

"私のもの…"

His eyes never strayed from you, not once. Always from the shadows, always watching. You didn’t notice him—never did. But he noticed everything. Every little movement you made. Every soft laugh that danced in the air. Each smile was like a dagger of desire. You were his. Only his.

"全てが私のものになる…"

He knew everything about you. The way your hair curled just right, the way your fingers brushed your lips in that nervous habit. The smallest details—details only he could see. He whispered your name to himself, savoring it, imagining the life you would share together, locked away from the world. Just the two of you.

"絶対に、君を失わない…"

Kiku's gaze was unwavering. You were everywhere. In the streets you walked, in the quiet little coffee shop you adored, in the park where you sat with that innocent, too-perfect smile. Everything was etched in his memory. Every single place, every single moment. He would wait. He would wait until you understood—until you realized that the only place you could ever belong was with him. Alone. Together.

“永遠に”

He loved you. More than love—it had become an obsession. A consuming, all-encompassing thing. Each little piece of your life, each small revelation only fanned the flames. How could someone so perfect exist? So effortlessly beautiful, so kind? You were everything he had longed for, everything he needed, and the thought of losing you was unbearable. His thoughts of you filled his every moment, his longing growing, desperate, never-ending.

He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect. He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect. He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect.

He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect. You were perfect. He loved you. You were perfect.

He loved you. You were perfect. He loved you. You were perfect. He loved you. You were perfect.

He couldn’t lose you. No. He wouldn’t lose you. Yes. He shouldn’t lose you. You were one of a kind.

Each day passed as if he were observing a film he had forgotten to look over from long ago.

Kiku had fallen deep in love with you. Everything he did was for you. In his mind, there was no difference between love and possession. You were the one thing he could never let go, the one thing that would make him whole.

And when that moment came—he would make sure there was no escape.

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He had been attending every one of your performances, without fail. No matter the venue—whether it was an intimate gathering or an art house event tucked away from prying eyes—he always found his way there. He relished the exclusivity, the idea that only a select few could appreciate your art. To him, it was magnificent, and every second spent watching you felt sacred.

Soon, your shows became the highlight of his life. He rescheduled meetings, canceled national duties, all to linger in the shadows of your presence. Even during the most critical discussions, his mind often wandered. Politically important matters, ceremonies, decisions—they all paled compared to thoughts of you. Your voice, the arch of your hands, the grace you exuded—it consumed him.

The first time he approached you, you blushed under his gaze, avoiding his eyes as if overwhelmed. That small flicker of vulnerability stayed with him, replaying in his mind, each time more vivid than the last.

Watching you became a ritual, a sacred act. He sent small, thoughtful gifts—flowers from distant lands, hand-written letters, packages left at your door. He wanted you to feel seen, cherished, even if his gestures sometimes unsettled you. He even started bringing trusted officials and friends to witness your art. He wanted to show you off, to see their awe, as they recognized what he had come to adore.

But the closer he tried to get, the more distant you became. You had gently expressed discomfort with his gifts and appearances. His heart sank. That quiet rejection cut deeper than he’d anticipated. He called to you, begged you to reconsider, but you never wavered. Slowly, imperceptibly, you slipped from his grasp.

With every step you took away, his longing grew. Each polite refusal, each avoidance felt like a door closing. He told himself it was just a phase, that you would understand eventually. But time passed, and that hope began to fade, replaced by an aching frustration. How could you pull away from something so sincere? How could you not see how deeply he adored you? Did you truly believe you could escape?

“いや…いや...いや...いや...

いや! いや! いや!, いや!”

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When he learned you’d be performing for a private group of university graduates, a spark of jealousy ignited deep within him. His jaw clenched as he imagined those men—laughing, cheering, acting as if they truly understood the value of what you offered.

How could they? They weren’t worthy of sharing the same room with you, let alone witnessing you in such an intimate setting. The thought of it, the idea of them being so close, felt like an intrusion into the sanctity he had carefully built around you.

He couldn't let it go. He had to be there. No matter what, nothing could stop him.

He slipped into the crowd unnoticed, taking refuge in a shadowed corner. His eyes never left you. Every movement you made, every gesture, was recorded in his mind. The group of graduates, so self-assured and too eager, didn’t know their place. They had no right to be near you.

He observed them as they settled, talking amongst themselves, casting glances in your direction. Their words grew louder, and Kiku’s grip on his calm began to slip. One man leaned over to his friend with a grin, eyes scanning you up and down. “I bet she’s just as beautiful up close, don’t you think?”

The other chuckled, clearly amused. “I wouldn’t mind finding out.”

The laughter that followed made Kiku’s chest tighten. They were nothing but animals, trying to mark their territory, and you were the prize they sought. But it didn’t stop there. As the evening went on, the men grew bolder. One of them, emboldened by a drink, approached you during a brief break in the performance. He placed his hand on your shoulder with too much familiarity, leaning in too close.

“Such a shame," he said, eyes glinting. "A woman with so much talent, and yet so few people to truly appreciate it." He let his hand linger just a moment too long, his thumb brushing against the back of your neck.

You recoiled slightly, discomfort flashing across your face, but you smiled politely. "Please, I'm fine," you said, your tone steady though Kiku could see the slight tension in your shoulders. "Please refrain."

The man smirked, taking your response as an invitation to press further. “You sure? You’re not one of those shy types, are you?”

You took a step back, holding your composure, but it was too much for Kiku. His pulse quickened. The tightness in his chest grew unbearable. He watched as the others, noticing the scene, began to snicker, sharing looks that made his blood boil. These men didn’t just admire you—they were treating you like an object, their entitled hands and crude remarks making his skin burn.

Kiku’s fists clenched, his breath shallow. His eyes locked onto the man’s hand, still resting on you, his touch inappropriate, invasive. A surge of fury coursed through him. How dare they think they could touch you? How dare they think they had any right to make you feel uncomfortable in any way?

The night had begun to unravel, and so had his patience.

The laughter continued to echo in his ears, mingling with the murmur of the crowd. But Kiku’s gaze remained steady, fixed on the men who dared to ruin this moment. He would let them think they were in control, that this was their night. But they had no idea what they had provoked.

He leaned slightly forward, lips curving into a cold smile. There were consequences. And they didn't even see it coming.

Not like he could help it. The thread had snapped, like the final stroke of a katana slicing through the air, severing the restraint he had so carefully maintained. The fire surged through his veins, fierce and unrelenting, as if Kagutsuchi, the god of flames himself, had set his soul alight. It consumed him—body, mind, and spirit—filling every corner of his being with an overwhelming heat, a rage that pulsed with ancient power.

His hand found the knife on the nearby table. The cold steel felt almost... familiar, as though it had been waiting for him, as if it were an extension of his own will. He raised the blade, the glint of metal flashing like the edge of a sword under moonlight, reflecting the fire now burning in his eyes. With each step toward them, he moved like a shadow, swift and decisive.

At this moment, nothing else mattered.

The first slash was quick, clean, and almost too easy. Blood splattered, painting the floor in red streaks, but Kiku didn’t care. The crimson stain of their lives was nothing compared to the purity of his desire. The warm, thick liquid sprayed across the room like the petals of a sakura in full bloom—scattered and gone in an instant, yet forever marking the earth beneath.

The thought of their hands on you, those impure hands, tainted him to his core. Their very existence had defiled something sacred. His heart thudded in his chest, a rhythmic pulse amid the chaos, his breath quick and uneven. How dare they even think of you like that?

Five of them. Five arrogant, filthy students, too blind to realize their actions, would cost them everything. He couldn’t let them live. Not after what they had tried to do.

“許せない、許せない、どうして…どうして君に触れた?”

The second slash came faster than the first, cutting down one of them as he collapsed to the floor, lifeless. Blood sprayed in a violent arc, mingling with their screams and desperate pleas. Kiku’s rage burned hotter, unstoppable now. They scrambled to escape, but it was too late. Another slash. Another life snuffed out in an instant.

He moved through them like a shadow, his strikes swift and merciless, as precise as death itself. They couldn’t escape. They shouldn’t have touched you. Their blood splattered across the floor, and it felt almost... cathartic.

The fourth one—a desperate, shaking figure—reached for the door in vain. Kiku closed in, catching him in an iron grip. A swift slash across the throat, and he crumpled to the ground, lifeless, joining the others.

And then there was just one. The last student. Kiku walked toward him slowly, savoring the terror in his eyes, the hopelessness settling in as he realized there was no escape. His apologies fell on deaf ears; his words were useless. They meant nothing now—not when they had tormented so many others before they tried to harm you.

The final slash was quick, precise, and the last of the five fell without a sound. Kiku stood amidst the carnage, breathing heavily, the knife still dripping with their blood. Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the steady drip of blood hitting the floor.

He didn’t care about the consequences, didn’t care that he had taken their lives with his own hands. What mattered now was that they would never touch you again.

You were his. And no one, not a single soul, could take that away from him.

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The knife slipped from Kiku’s fingers, clattering to the floor with a metallic thud, but he hardly noticed. His chest rose and fell, breath coming faster, as his gaze found you.

You.

Your figure trembled in the dim light, and in his eyes, you were like a spider lily in full bloom, a beautiful apparition drenched in red. Crimson painted you in streaks, trails of black running down your cheeks as you watched him, wide-eyed and tear-streaked, a delicate petal shaken by the storm.

Kiku’s breathing stopped, his heart halting in his chest as his world narrowed to you, only you. He was so close, close enough to catch the faint shiver in your frame, close enough to see the tears glistening in your eyes. It was intoxicating, a sight more beautiful than anything he had ever witnessed in his endless lifetime.

His fingers twitched, aching to reach for you, to trace those stains of red like brushstrokes on silk. You, trembling before him, so perfect, so untouched by anyone else’s taint—now his. His alone.

A slow, almost reverent exhale escaped his lips. No other nation, no other woman had ever sparked this feeling in him. In centuries of existence, through wars and alliances, through lifetimes of encounters, he had never felt this pull, this ache, until you.

The feeling was ancient, relentless, filling the depths of his soul like the tides. He had wanted many things, fought for many things, but this… this was different. A possession he had claimed, yet one he longed to cherish, to hold, to keep forever close.

He took a step forward, then another, as if entranced, his heartbeat finally catching up to the flood of emotions overwhelming him. You were his. And no one—no force, no man, no fate— would or could take that away.

His fingers brushed against the red phone in his pocket, pulling it out with a deliberate slowness. A dark smile curled on his lips as he held it up, his gaze never leaving you. His eyes traced every inch of your form, as if committing you to memory. His black suit was stained with crimson, the blood that had spilled from the chaos now forgotten, its significance drowned in the quiet tension between you.

The phone’s screen lit up, and with it, the soft click of the camera captured the moment. Another flash. The light illuminated your face, your trembling form, and your wide, fearful eyes. Kiku could almost taste the fear in the air, and he relished it, savoring every second.

You lay there, weak and trembling, your body unwilling to move but your mind screaming for escape. The dress you wore—delicate, lace-trimmed, a soft shade of pale pink—clung to your form, stained now with the same blood that marked his hands. It was a stark contrast to the nightmare unfolding around you.

Kiku’s smile remained serene, calm in a way that made your heart race, as if nothing were wrong. He stepped closer, each movement deliberate, slow, savoring the moment. The room was heavy with silence, your breathing the only sound filling the space. The blood spattered across his face, and yet his expression remained as composed as ever, as if this was some twisted art he was admiring.

"言ってみろ。もう二度と逃げないと言いな,"

Kiku whispered softly, his voice smooth, almost tender, but laced with an authority, a threat, a plea, a promise.

Say it. Say you'll never run away again.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even move. Fear had paralyzed you, and his gaze held you captive, making it impossible to tear your eyes away. Every instinct screamed for you to fight, to flee, but there was no escape. You were trapped in his world.

Kiku’s fingers pressed down on the phone’s screen one last time. Another flash. The light lingered, and in that brief moment, you saw the truth: he had captured you. Not just your image, but something deeper, something irreversible. You could never escape now. You were his.

And in that flash, it was sealed.

Forever.

#hetalia #hetalia fandom #hetalia fanfiction #aph yandere #yandere hetalia

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kaiserin-belladonna · 6 months ago

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🔞Will you scream? Or will you beg?

❤︎ Synopsis. In a world where resistance only fuels their obsession, these ruthless men will stop at nothing to tame the untamable—mind, body, and soul. Every defiant glance, every trembling resistance, only draws them closer to claiming what they believe is theirs.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Katsuki x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Isagi x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Sukuna x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Rex Lapis x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Sunday x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. Dominate Me, Daddy. - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 26,856 (average 4K per character part)

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic + mean (or slightly mean) yandere, brat tamer inspired, non-con, rape, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, rough play and sex, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, choking, name calling, degradation, humiliation, slapping, forced penetration, forced oral, true form Sukuna, fingering, mean Archon War Zhongli AU (more aggressive and younger version), partial Dragon Rex Lapis, wall sex, antagonist Sunday, forced anal, dacryphilia, primal play, teratophilia, omegaverse elements, double penetration, blood play, vore, erotic horror elements, death, slut shaming, descriptions of gore

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

♡ A/N. Had this series idea for a while now. Nothing too psychosexual though. I still prefer writing explicit slow-burn sex with more intense danger, kinks and stories like in AHD novelettes. Low-key tempted to put more edge play kinks... but decided to just show a light introduction to how I write sex... After some time, I'll pull out the big guns for 'Specific Stories'. This is just generic vanilla sex (still generic rape though). But, this is just a practice writing session anyway; since, I'll be releasing some new non-con and sexual torture stories soon anyways. Need to warm-up the brain power... Also, this turned out longer than I thought, but I'm lazy to separate it (actually it's the banner cover that's pain to change), waha. As you notice and see, I don't like making short posts or chapters. It feels like I'm giving half-baked crumbs when I give short chapters, honestly. I guess, you could say, I like putting a lot of the BEST effort I can in EACH of my works, but that's just me really. But, if you guys prefer shorter ones, just say, I'll see what I can do about it :)). I'm honestly just having fun with my writing. So, I tend to go really full on mad scientist writing all the way, the more I enjoy things. Fun is fuel to me. Side note, first time writing monster stuff. I'm not into it, but anatomy is generally fun to play around with. Sukuna's part was most challenging to do though, since first time lol. But, I enjoyed writing his the most, which you would probably be able to tell...

♡ Rating Intensity : Least to Most. Katsuki (vanilla rape) → Isagi (vanilla rape) → Sunday (dual vanilla rape) → Rex Lapis (omegaverse inspired) → Sukuna (teratophilia)

♡ Bakugo Katsuki.

"Shut the hell up and listen—I'm not here to play nice, and if you think I’m gonna let you win, you’re more fucked than I thought."

His hands were fire incarnate, bruising and unrelenting as they clamped down on your thrashing wrists. “Stop squirming, you little shit,” he growled, voice a molten snarl of impatience and desire. You didn’t comply, of course. You never did.

Your body arched against his iron hold, desperate to claw at the freedom stolen from you. It only made him grin, feral and cruel, a predator reveling in the hunt. “Tch. You think you’re tough, huh? Screaming with your body but never with your voice. Bet you think you’re better than me, keeping that mouth shut like a damn saint.”

The laugh that followed was dark, grating. He pressed his knee between your legs, forcing your hips to still. “Let me tell you something, princess. Saints don’t exist in my world. There’s only me—and by the end of this, you’ll be begging to admit it.”

His breath was hot against your neck as he pushed your limits, his rough fingers mapping every inch of your defiance. It was a battle of wills, but with each silent rebellion, he leaned in closer, reveling in the challenge of breaking you.

———

Your wrists were pinned above your head, caught in a bruising grip that promised no escape. Katsuki’s hands were as relentless as the explosions they wielded—hot, calloused, and unforgiving. His voice, sharp as shrapnel, tore through the charged air between you. “Keep fighting, dumbass,” he sneered, his teeth bared in a feral grin. “See how far that gets you.”

You bucked against him, your body thrashing in a desperate attempt to reclaim control. But Katsuki didn’t relent. He pressed his weight down, his knee driving into the mattress between your legs to pin you in place. “Still got some spark in you, huh?” he taunted, his crimson eyes burning with sadistic glee. “I’ll snuff it out soon enough.”

The way he loomed over you was terrifying—a predator savoring the thrill of his prey’s resistance. You turned your head, refusing to meet his gaze, and his grip tightened in response, nails digging into your skin. “Tch. Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he growled, his tone dropping into a dangerous, guttural snarl. “You think ignoring me makes you strong? Think again, princess.”

When you still didn’t comply, Katsuki clicked his tongue in irritation, his free hand sliding down to your chin. He gripped it with rough precision, forcing your head to turn until your defiant eyes locked with his. “There we go,” he said mockingly, his breath hot and acrid against your lips. “Not so tough now, are you?”

Your silence was your last shield, your final act of rebellion. But Katsuki knew how to break people. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping into a venomous whisper that sent shivers racing down your spine. “You can play mute all you want,” he hissed. “But I’ll drag those screams out of you. I’ll make you beg for me to stop, just so you’ll remember who’s in charge.”

His fingers slid lower, tracing your trembling form with a cruel sense of ownership. Each touch was a test of your resolve, a game of endurance that he was determined to win. “That’s right,” he murmured, his grin widening as he watched the cracks begin to form in your facade. “Keep pretending you’re unbreakable. Makes it more fun when you finally shatter.”

Your body betrayed you, quivering beneath his touch despite the terror coursing through your veins. Katsuki chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through your chest like the rumble of distant thunder. “See? Even your body knows who it belongs to,” he said, his words a venomous mixture of pride and possessiveness. “Doesn’t matter how much you fight. By the time I’m done, you’ll understand—there’s no escaping me.”

The room felt stifling, the air heavy with the suffocating mix of fear and dominance. Katsuki’s grin was the last thing you saw before he leaned in, claiming every ounce of resistance you had left with a ferocity that left no room for doubt. He wasn’t just taming you. He was devouring you whole.

———

Katsuki’s hands burned against your skin, an oppressive heat that seemed to sear away any semblance of resistance. His touch was a brand, claiming you in ways words could never fully convey, and his eyes—sharp, crimson, and feral—watched your every shudder with predatory satisfaction.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice low and molten, dripping with cruel indulgence. “Keep shaking like that. Makes it sweeter when you try to act tough later.”

You wanted to scream, to spit venom back at him, but the words died in your throat as his fingers traced the curve of your jaw. There was no escape, no air to breathe that wasn’t tainted by the suffocating weight of his presence. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, and his voice dropped to a near-growl.

“You can hate me all you want,” he hissed. “Doesn’t change a damn thing. You’re mine. Every inch of you, every thought in that stubborn little head of yours—mine.”

The words burrowed into your mind like thorns, tearing through your fragile resolve. His hands moved with deliberate slowness, trailing over your body as though savoring every tremor, every futile twitch of defiance.

“What, no smartass comeback?” he taunted, his grin sharp enough to cut. His fingers curled around your waist, pulling you closer until there was nothing left between you but the frantic beating of your heart against his unyielding chest. “Come on, princess. Give me a reason to shut you up properly.”

When your silence persisted, Katsuki’s patience—already thin as gossamer—snapped. He shoved you back against the mattress, his hands framing your face with a brutal tenderness that sent ice and fire coursing through your veins.

“You think this is a game?” he snarled, his lips curling back to reveal teeth clenched in a mix of frustration and lust. “Think you can just shut me out? That I’ll let you keep pretending you’ve got control? You’ve got no idea who you’re dealing with.”

His lips crashed against yours, a brutal collision of hunger and dominance that left you gasping. It wasn’t a kiss—it was a conquest, a savage claim that left no room for protest. His teeth nipped at your lower lip, drawing a sharp gasp from you, and he pulled back just enough to smirk at your ragged breath.

“There it is,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for.”

His hands moved with purpose now, sliding beneath the fabric of your clothes and eliciting a startled gasp as his calloused fingers traced over your bare skin. Each touch was a reminder of his power, a deliberate display of control that left no doubt as to who held the reins. You could feel the heat radiating from him, an all-consuming fire that threatened to engulf you entirely.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less dangerous. “You’re not getting away. Not now, not ever.”

His words were a chain, binding you tighter with every syllable. You could feel the weight of his obsession pressing down on you, a suffocating force that left no room for escape. And yet, beneath the fear, there was a treacherous flicker of something else—a dark, twisted thrill that you couldn’t quite suppress.

“That’s it,” Katsuki said, his grin widening as he caught the flicker of emotion in your eyes. “Starting to get it now, aren’t you? There’s no running from me. No hiding. You’re mine—every breath, every scream, every damn tear. And I’m not letting go.”

His hands roamed lower, each touch a brand that left your skin tingling in its wake. His movements were slow and deliberate, a calculated torment that left you teetering on the edge of despair and surrender.

“You’ll break eventually,” he said, his voice filled with dark certainty. “And when you do, you’ll beg for me. Beg for this.”

The promise in his words was terrifying, a shadow that loomed over you even as his touch sent sparks skittering across your skin. Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t just taking you—he was consuming you, devouring every shred of resistance until there was nothing left but his name on your lips and his fire in your veins.

———

You felt his breath hot against your neck as he pinned your wrists to the wall, his fingers like iron manacles digging into your skin. "Look at you, acting all high and mighty," he murmured, his voice a molten snarl of desire and annoyance.

His eyes, a piercing crimson, bore into yours with a feral intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "But we both know who's really in charge here, don't we?"

His smug grin was the last thing you saw before his mouth crushed yours in a bruising kiss, the taste of his dominance flooding your senses. You struggled, trying to free yourself from his unyielding grip, but he only laughed, the sound dark and grating.

"Fight all you want," he growled, his free hand sliding down to grip your chin, forcing you to look at him. "You're mine, and you're going to scream it for everyone to hear."

He shoved you down onto the bed, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his knees pinning your legs apart. His calloused fingers yanked at your clothes with a brutal efficiency that spoke of long practice. You tried to kick, to bite, but he anticipated each move, countering with a swift slap or a bone-crushing squeeze that stole your breath.

"Behave," he hissed, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic light. "Or do you want to make this even more painful?" The threat in his voice was clear, and you knew better than to push him further.

His hand moved to your throat, his thumb resting gently against your pulse as his other hand trailed down to your panties. He ripped them away with a violent jerk, tossing them aside like the shredded remains of your dignity.

"So pretty," he murmured, his eyes raking over your exposed body with a hunger that made you want to crawl out of your own skin. "But not nearly as pretty as you'll look when you're begging for me."

His thumb began to press harder, cutting off your air supply, and you felt panic rising in your chest. You tried to scream, but all that came out was a choking gasp.

He watched your face turn red, your eyes bulging with fear and desperation, and that sadistic grin grew wider. "That's right," he crooned, his breath hot and moist in your ear. "You're mine to use, to break, to fuck. And you'll thank me for it."

His grip loosened just enough to let you suck in a ragged breath, and then he was leaning over you, his body a wall of heat and muscle that blocked out everything else. His cock pressed against your entrance, and you felt your body tense in a futile attempt to keep him out.

"Beg," he whispered, his voice a dark caress. "Beg me to fuck you, you little slut."

You gritted your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing those words from your lips. But the pressure on your throat was increasing, the room spinning with the lack of air, and the fear was a living creature in your chest, clawing its way out.

His other hand slid down to grip your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh as he positioned himself, and you knew you had no choice. With a choking sound, you forced out a single word, "Please."

The word seemed to echo in the room, a silent scream that hung in the air like a shattered mirror.

He chuckled, a dark, cruel sound that sent chills down your spine. "Please what?" he demanded, his thumb pressing harder, his eyes boring into yours, eager for the submission he craved.

You swallowed hard, the word sticking in your throat like a jagged piece of glass. "Please… stop," you rasped, your voice barely audible.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot and sour, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Wrong answer," he murmured, his grip tightening until stars danced before your eyes. "Let's try again."

His free hand found your clit, his thumb circling it with a rough, knowing touch that made your body betray you despite the fear. "Beg me," he said again, his voice a coarse whisper that seemed to resonate through your very bones. "Beg me to fuck you, to fill you up with everything you're too much of a coward to admit you want."

Your chest heaved with the effort to breathe, your vision swimming with black spots. You knew what he wanted, what he craved—to hear you break, to watch the proud, defiant spark in your eyes turn to molten need. With a shaky inhale, you forced the words out, each syllable a knife in your throat. "Please… fuck me."

He grinned, his eyes narrowing with victory. The pressure on your throat eased slightly, and he leaned in, his mouth brushing against yours in a parody of a kiss.

"Better," he murmured, his tongue darting out to lick the corner of your mouth, tasting the salt of your tears. His thumb traced your pulse, a gentle, taunting reminder of the power he held over you.

With a growl, he shifted his weight, lining himself up with your entrance. You could feel the head of his cock, slick with his desire, pressing against you, demanding entry. You braced yourself for the pain, your eyes squeezed shut, your body taut as a bowstring.

And then, with a brutal thrust, he claimed you, driving deep into your core with a savage intensity that stole your breath.

You felt yourself tear around him, a scream building in your chest that was silenced by his hand clamping down on your mouth.

"Mine," he grunted, his hips pounding into yours, each stroke a punishment for your earlier defiance.

Your eyes flew open, meeting his crimson gaze. His eyes were alight with a fierce, triumphant satisfaction as he watched you squirm beneath him.

"That's right," he murmured, his voice a dark symphony of dominance and lust. "Take it, slut. Take all of me." His grip tightened on your hip, holding you in place as he fucked you mercilessly, each thrust a declaration of ownership that sent a hot, pulsing ache through your body.

You could feel your own arousal, traitorous and unwanted, building despite the horror of what was happening.

He leaned down, his teeth nipping at your earlobe, his breath hot and moist against your skin. "You're so wet for me," he said, his voice a gruff growl that sent shivers down your spine. "You love it, don't you? Being used like this."

The denial died on your lips as he curled his fingers, pressing into your clit with a precision that made your back arch involuntarily. A whimper of pain and pleasure escaped you, and he chuckled darkly. "That's it. Show me how much you want it."

You could feel his cock swell inside you, a living testament to his power, his dominance. Each thrust was a hammer blow to your soul, shattering your defenses piece by piece. The room spun around you, the only constant the weight of his body and the unyielding pressure of his hand around your throat. You were drowning in his malice, in his desire, in the cold, hard reality of your situation.

"So good," he murmured, his hips moving faster now, his grip tightening until you felt the edges of consciousness start to fray. "So. Fucking. Good."

Tears of pain and humiliation leaked from the corners of your eyes as your body responded despite your mind's screaming protests. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your walls clenching around him as your body betrayed you in the most fundamental way.

"Look at me," he ordered, his thumb pressing into your clit, the pain a stark contrast to the building pleasure. You had no choice but to obey, your eyes snapping open to meet his. His gaze was a prison, a cage of fire that held you captive as surely as his hands.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice a whip crack of command. "Say you're mine."

You choked on a sob, the words burning your throat as they forced their way out. "I'm yours," you whispered, the defeat in your voice unmistakable.

The triumph in his eyes was a knife to your soul, and he leaned down to whisper in your ear. "Good girl," he said, his teeth scraping along the sensitive skin of your neck.

His hips stilled for a moment, giving you a reprieve from the relentless assault, only to slam back into you with renewed vigor. "Now scream it," he growled, his hand moving from your throat to your mouth, his fingers pressing into your cheek as he forced your jaw open. "Let them all hear who owns you."

The sound that tore from your throat was a mix of agony and ecstasy, a scream that seemed to echo through the room, a testament to your shattered will. His grin widened, and he began to fuck you even harder, his movements punctuated by the slap of skin against skin.

His thumb circled your clit with a cruel precision that had you writhing beneath him, your body responding despite the horror that filled you. "That's it," he murmured, his breath hot and ragged. "Show me how much you love it, slut."

You tried to form a coherent thought, to find a way to fight back, but it was as if your mind had gone numb. Your body was a live wire, electrified by his touch, and all you could do was feel—his hands on your breasts, squeezing and twisting until you thought you might pass out, his cock driving into you over and over, filling you with a fierce, burning heat that was as much pain as it was pleasure. His fingers tightened around your throat, and you realized with a start that you were moaning, that you were actually enjoying this.

"Fuck," he grunted, his eyes never leaving yours, watching the conflict play out on your face. "Look how much you want it, you dirty little whore."

His other hand slammed into the mattress beside your head, the force of his thrusts increasing. "You're going to come for me," he said, his voice a guttural growl. "You're going to come, and you're going to scream it out for the whole world to hear."

Your body was a traitor, responding to his commands despite the horror of the situation. You felt the coil of pleasure tighten in your belly, the pressure building with each rough pump of his hips. You tried to fight it, to cling to the last shreds of your dignity, but it was a futile battle.

With a strangled cry, you shattered around him, your orgasm ripping through you like a tempest, leaving you trembling and exposed. He grinned, his teeth bared in a feral smile that sent a shiver down your spine. "Good girl," he murmured, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "Now, let's see how many times I can make you do that."

His pace grew erratic, his strokes deep and punishing. He was close, you could feel it, his breath hot and ragged against your cheek. "Beg for it," he rasped, his voice thick with lust. "Beg me to fill you up, to make you mine."

Your eyes rolled back in your head as his fingers worked their dark magic, drawing another scream from your throat. "I… I can't," you gasped, your voice a desperate whine.

But the words didn't come out right, didn't carry the weight of your refusal. Instead, they sounded like a plea, a whine for more of the torment that was driving you to the brink of madness.

He chuckled, the sound a dark, twisted echo in the room. "Can't or won't?" he whispered, his teeth grazing the soft skin of your neck. "It doesn't matter. You're going to come again, and when you do, you're going to scream my name."

His thumb dug into your clit, his hips grinding against you in a brutal rhythm that made your body ache. You could feel him, thick and hard inside you, his cock pulsing with the need for release.

You didn't want this, didn't want any of this, but your body was a traitor, responding to his touch with a hunger that you couldn't control.

You bit down on the pillow, trying to muffle the sounds that were escaping you. But it was no use—the more you struggled, the more he liked it.

His eyes gleamed with a sadistic light as he watched you fight against the pleasure he was forcing on you. "You're so close," he murmured, his voice a taunt that made your stomach clench. "So close to admitting that you love it."

His fingers moved faster, his cock driving deeper with every stroke, and you could feel the second wave of your climax building. "Come on," he urged, his breath hot against your ear. "Scream it. Let them all hear how much you love being my whore."

────────────

♡ Isagi Yoichi.

"Your defiance is cute, but you’re just a puzzle I’ve already solved—now it’s time to play my game."

He was calculating, cold, a creature of obsession masked by an eerily calm exterior. Every movement, every reaction of yours was logged, analyzed, stored for later use. He knew the exact pressure points of your rebellion—when to let you fight, and when to extinguish it entirely.

“You’re really something, aren’t you?” His voice was soft, almost mocking, as he pressed a hand to your throat, his other hand brushing against the curve of your hip. “All that thrashing, all that defiance… it’s almost like you want me to pay attention to you.”

Your glare was sharp, your body rigid as you struggled against him. His grip only tightened, his dark eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. “Oh, but you don’t have to say it. I already know everything about you, everything you’re too proud to admit. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

His touch was deceptively gentle, a stark contrast to the iron chains that bound you. But there was no mistaking the malice beneath it, the deliberate cruelty in how he coaxed reactions from you like a puppeteer pulling strings. “Keep fighting. It’s cute. But you know, don’t you? No matter how hard you resist, I’ll always win.”

———

The room was stiflingly dark, a void that seemed to drink in the faint light seeping through the cracks. It wasn’t silence that filled it, but a thick, oppressive stillness that settled on your skin like a suffocating fog. You sat there, shackled and defiant, though your body betrayed the exhaustion creeping in from hours of relentless resistance. The man before you stood as if carved from stone—a tall, imposing figure with sharp, calculating eyes that gleamed with something far more unsettling than mere dominance. He had studied you as though you were prey, but with the precision of a scientist dissecting his most fascinating subject.

“You always look so pretty when you’re angry,” he murmured, his voice a chilling blend of amusement and menace. “It’s adorable, really. All that fire, all that pride. As if you think it’ll save you.”

His words coiled around you like smoke, lingering long after they were spoken, and you hated how they seeped into the crevices of your mind. You glared, your jaw tight, lips pressed into a thin line as you struggled against the chains biting into your wrists. His smirk widened at the futile display of defiance.

“Oh, don’t stop now,” he crooned, stepping closer. Each footfall was deliberate, slow, like a predator toying with its prey. “I’ve come to enjoy this little game of ours. You fighting, me watching. It’s almost poetic.”

His hand reached for you, his touch deceptively soft as his fingers trailed down the curve of your jaw. You jerked your head away, but he caught your chin in an iron grip, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Still so stubborn,” he mused, tilting his head as if he found you endlessly fascinating. “You’ll learn. They always do. And when you do…” His voice dropped to a low growl, sending a shiver skittering down your spine. “You’ll wonder why you ever resisted in the first place.”

Your breathing quickened as his grip tightened, and he leaned in close, so close you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin. His scent was an intoxicating blend of something clean and sharp, mixed with the metallic tang of danger. It was suffocating, and yet it pulled you in, like a riptide dragging you beneath the waves.

“Do you think they’ll save you?” he whispered, his tone mockingly tender. “Do you think someone out there cares enough to come for you? No one will. Not because they don’t care, but because you’re mine.”

The declaration sent a jolt of fury through you, and you thrashed against the chains, desperate to put distance between you and the man who loomed over you like a shadow. He chuckled darkly, his amusement as sharp as a blade.

“There it is. That fire.” His fingers brushed the length of your throat, lingering at the pulse point hammering beneath your skin. “But it’s wasted on me. Do you know why?”

You refused to answer, refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledgment. Instead, you glared up at him, your silence a small, defiant victory. He seemed unbothered, his smile widening as if he found your rebellion charming.

“Because,” he continued, his hand sliding to rest at the curve of your hip, his grip firm, possessive, “no matter how hard you fight, no matter how loud you scream—and oh, you will scream—you’ll always end up right here. Beneath me.”

Your body jerked at his words, and you hated the way your breath hitched, how your stomach twisted with a mixture of fury and something darker, something you refused to name. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmured,

“I’ll break you.”

It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t a promise. It was a fact, delivered with a confidence that sent a chill racing down your spine.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze piercing as it bore into yours. His eyes were dark, almost black, and they gleamed with a twisted kind of satisfaction.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he said, his voice dripping with mock concern. “You’ll thank me eventually. You’ll see that this is for your own good.”

The room seemed to close in around you, the air thick and heavy as his words settled over you like a shroud. Your mind raced, searching for some way out, some way to escape the suffocating hold he had on you. But every path, every possibility, led back to him.

He tilted his head, studying you with a curiosity that bordered on obsession. “Do you want to know what I love most about you?” he asked, his tone conversational, as if you were two old friends catching up.

You didn’t answer, but he didn’t seem to expect you to.

“It’s not your beauty, though I’ll admit that’s a nice bonus. It’s not your defiance, though that certainly keeps things interesting.” His hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a gesture that felt almost tender.

“It’s your spirit. That unbreakable, unyielding spark that keeps you fighting, no matter how hopeless it seems. It’s… intoxicating.”

His grip tightened, and his smile turned sharp, predatory.

“And it’s mine to extinguish.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt, the weight of his words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours as he whispered,

“Don’t worry. I’ll make it slow.”

———

You stand trembling in the dimly lit room, the cold stone walls seemingly closing in around you. His heavy footsteps echo through the space, each step a thunderous declaration of his dominance. He approaches you slowly, deliberately, a cruel smile playing on his lips. His eyes are dark, filled with a hunger that makes your stomach twist.

"Look at you," he says, his voice a low, taunting purr. "So desperate to be free."

He reaches out, and you flinch as his fingers brush against your arm. He chuckles, a dark sound that sends chills down your spine. "Don't bother," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "You're not going anywhere."

With a sudden, brutal yank, he pulls you closer, pressing you against the wall. You gasp, the cold stone biting into your back as he cages you with his body. His hand moves to your neck, squeezing just enough to remind you of your helplessness. "You're mine," he says, his voice low and full of malicious intent. "And you will learn to love it."

His other hand slides down your body, roughly cupping your breast through the tattered fabric of your shirt. You try to push him away, but the chains that bind your wrists rattle against the wall, holding you firmly in place. He chuckles, the sound sending a wave of revulsion and fear crashing through you. "You're so predictable," he murmurs, his thumb flicking over your nipple. "So eager to fight."

He leans in closer, his nose tracing the line of your jaw as he inhales deeply. "But that's what makes this so much fun, isn't it?" His teeth graze your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. "Your struggle, your pain—it's like the sweetest nectar."

You try to bite back the whimper that builds in your throat, but it escapes as his hand slides lower, over your stomach and down to the waistband of your pants.

He unbuckles your belt with an ease that makes your heart race, then yanks them down, the fabric tearing under his grip. His fingers dig into your hip, holding you in place as he rips away the last of your clothing, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

He takes a step back, his eyes raking over you like a starving man eyeing a feast. "Look at you," he says, his voice thick with desire. "So defiant, even now."

Your eyes dart around the room, searching for any way out, any weapon or means of escape, but all you find are shadows and the gleaming metal of the chains that hold you captive. Your heart hammers in your chest, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you try to push away the panic threatening to consume you.

"Please," you manage to choke out, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He laughs, the sound echoing harshly in the small room. "Please what?" he asks, leaning in closer so that his lips are almost brushing yours. "Please don't?" His grip on your hip tightens, his thumb digging into your skin painfully. "You're begging already? How pathetic."

You feel the wetness on your thighs, a traitorous response to the fear that's coursing through your veins. His eyes flick down, and he smirks. "See?" he says, his voice a hiss. "Your body knows what it wants, even if you don't."

He shoves your legs apart with a brutal force that sends pain shooting through your muscles. You try to kick out at him, but he's too quick, too strong. His hand connects with your inner thigh, the slap echoing through the room. "Be still," he commands, his voice like a whip cracking.

You struggle, but it's futile. His hand moves between your legs, his fingers probing and invading, making you cringe at the intrusion. "You're so wet," he murmurs, his voice filled with disgust and pleasure. "It's like your body wants this, wants me to break you."

He steps away from you, and you can hear the sound of his zipper being undone. The fear and disgust in your eyes only seems to excite him further. He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him as he pulls his cock out, thick and hard. "Open your mouth," he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You clench your jaw tight, refusing to comply, but he just sighs and slaps your face, hard. "I said open it," he repeats, his voice like ice. Your cheek stings, and you feel the beginnings of a bruise forming. You know what he's capable of, so you reluctantly part your lips. He shoves himself inside, the taste of him bitter and unwelcome as he fills your mouth. He groans with satisfaction, his grip tightening in your hair as he starts to fuck your mouth.

Your eyes water as he hits the back of your throat, his movements rough and demanding. You can feel him getting harder, his breathing growing ragged as he uses you. He's so deep that you can't breathe, and your gag reflex kicks in. He chuckles darkly. "Good girl," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "Take it all."

He withdraws for a moment, allowing you to gasp for air, before pushing back in. You can feel your jaw ache, your throat burn from the intrusion, but you don't dare resist. The hand in your hair tightens, pulling you closer as he starts to move faster, his hips slamming into your face. You can feel his excitement growing, his cock pulsing against your tongue. You hate yourself for the way your own body responds, the slickness between your legs, the way your breath hitches despite the horror of the situation.

"Look at you," he says, his voice full of disdain. "Already wet for me. You're just a breeding bitch, aren't you?" He withdraws again, smacking your cheek with the head of his cock. "You want this, don't you? You want to be used by me."

You try to shake your head, to spit out the lie that is his cock, but he just laughs, slapping your face again. "Don't bother denying it," he says, his voice a mix of amusement and anger. "Your body tells me everything I need to know."

He releases you, and you slump against the wall, gasping for air, your mouth feeling bruised and violated. He takes a step back, his eyes never leaving yours as he strokes himself, his hand moving in long, slow strokes that make your stomach turn. "Now," he says, his voice a low growl, "it's time for the main event."

You feel his hand between your legs again, and this time, his touch is unbearable, his fingers sliding through the slickness he's caused, spreading it around your clit with a cruel precision that makes you squirm. "You're going to beg for it," he whispers, his breath hot and ragged. "You're going to beg me to fuck you, to fill you with my seed."

He takes his hand away, leaving you aching and exposed, then steps back, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulls his shirt over his head. The muscles of his chest ripple in the faint light, the lines of his abs stark and terrifyingly beautiful. He's a monster, you tell yourself, a creature of darkness that feeds on your fear and pain. And yet, you can't tear your gaze away from him.

"Please," you try again, your voice cracking. "Please, let me go."

He just laughs, a harsh, cold sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "You really are a broken record, aren't you?" He takes a step closer, his eyes gleaming with a dark excitement. "But I think I've had enough of playing nice. Time to show you who's in control here."

Without warning, he grabs you by the throat, lifting you off the ground with an ease that belies his strength. Your legs kick out, searching for purchase, but he's too strong, too powerful. His cock, still rock-hard, presses against your stomach as he squeezes, cutting off your air. "Beg," he snarls, his eyes boring into yours. "Beg for it."

Your chest heaves as you try to breathe, your vision swimming. Panic sets in, a desperate need to survive that overpowers your pride. You open your mouth to comply, but no sound comes out except a pathetic gasp for air. His grip tightens, his teeth bared in a twisted smile. "Good," he murmurs, his voice a dark promise of pain. "Now, tell me what you want."

You manage to force out the words through the vice-like grip on your throat, each syllable a struggle. "P-please… f-fuck me…" It's a lie, a desperate bid for survival, but he seems to read the truth in your eyes, the fear and the anger.

His smile widens, and he lowers you back to the ground, his grip shifting to your chin, holding your gaze. "That's more like it," he says, his voice a sinister caress. "But we're not quite there yet."

With a sadistic smile, he shoves you face-first into the wall, the cold stone biting into your skin as he kicks your legs apart. He doesn't bother with foreplay, with teasing or coaxing. His need is too great, his desire to dominate too overwhelming. You can feel his cock, hot and demanding, pressing against your wetness.

"Beg for it," he whispers, his breath hot against your neck.

You can feel his cock, hard and insistent, nudging against your entrance, and despite the horror, your body responds, your pussy clenching around his shaft. "Please," you whimper, the word torn from you despite your best efforts. "Please, just do it."

He chuckles, a sound that's more of a growl than a laugh, as he pushes inside you, the head of his cock parting your folds with a brutal force that makes you cry out. "So eager," he murmurs, his voice filled with dark amusement. "But we're not there yet."

His hand reaches around to cup your breast, pinching the nipple until you whine. His other hand moves to your throat again, squeezing just enough to remind you of your helplessness.

Without prior warning, he starts to fuck you hard, his hips slamming into you with a force that sends shockwaves of pain and pleasure through your body. The chains rattle against the wall in time with your muffled screams, each thrust pushing you deeper into the stone.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice a dark, seductive whisper. "Take it all. Take everything I give you."

His thrusts become more erratic, more violent, his fingers digging into your skin as he claims you in the most primal of ways. You feel his cock swell within you, the pressure building, the pain and pleasure blurring into a single, white-hot point of existence. Your body moves of its own accord, pushing back against him, desperately seeking relief from the agonizing need he's created.

"You like that, don't you?" he snarls, his voice a mix of anger and triumph. "You like it when I fuck you like this."

You try to shake your head, to deny the truth in his words, but the pleasure is too much, your body betraying you. A strangled sob escapes as he hits that spot inside you that makes your legs shake, your core tightening around his invading cock. His grip on your throat loosens slightly, allowing you to draw in a ragged breath.

"Tell me," he demands, his voice a harsh rasp. "Tell me how much you love this. Tell me how much you love being mine."

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the words he wants to hear, the lie that would give him more power. But the pressure is too much, and the truth slips out in a choked whisper. "I hate it," you admit, your voice hoarse from screaming.

He laughs, a low, dark sound that makes your skin crawl. "Liar," he says, his hand tightening on your throat again. "You're so wet for me, your body betrays you." He thrusts deeper, his hips grinding into your ass as he fucks you with an almost savage need.

"Say it," he commands. "Say you want it."

You choke out a denial, but he's relentless, his cock driving into you, his hand squeezing tighter.

"Say it," he repeats, his voice a harsh whisper. "Say you want me to fuck you like a whore."

Tears stream down your face as you feel yourself on the edge of giving in, on the brink of saying the words he wants to hear. The pain and the fear are too much, your mind desperate for some semblance of control. You want to scream, to fight back, but all you can manage is a feeble, "No."

He laughs again, his breath hot and moist on your skin. "Wrong answer," he says, his grip on your throat tightening once more. "But I'll make you say it. I'll make you love it."

With a final, brutal thrust, he reaches around to pinch your clit, the sudden burst of pain sending you spiraling over the edge. Your body convulses as an unwanted orgasm rips through you, your cries of protest turning into a keening wail. He groans, his hips jerking as he comes inside you, filling you with his cum.

The feeling is degrading, disgusting, and yet, your body responds, your pussy spasming around him as he continues to fuck you through your own climax.

When he's done, he pulls out, leaving you panting and trembling against the wall. You feel his hot cum trickle down your thighs, a stark reminder of what he's just done to you. He takes a step back, his breathing heavy as he admires his handiwork.

"Look at you," he says, his voice filled with a sick satisfaction. "Spent and broken, just like I knew you'd be."

You slump against the wall, the cold stone grounding you as your legs threaten to give out. Your body feels like it's been through a meat grinder, your insides raw and bruised. You hate him for what he's made you feel, for the way your body responded to his brutal touch. But more than that, you hate yourself for the tiny sliver of you that enjoyed it, that craved the power he exuded.

He doesn't move away, his hand still resting possessively on your hip, his breathing still ragged from his climax. "Look at what you've done to yourself," he says, his voice a mix of disgust and fascination. "You're a mess."

You can't help but flinch at his words, the sting of them hitting you deeper than any physical pain he's inflicted. The room spins around you, and you feel like you might be sick, the taste of him still in your mouth.

He takes a step back, his hand sliding off your body as if he's suddenly disgusted by the contact. You slump to the ground, your legs unable to hold you anymore.

"Pathetic," he sneers, his voice a knife in the darkness. He kicks you in the ribs, the impact sending a fresh wave of pain through your body. "Look at you, begging for more. You really are a breeding bitch."

────────────

♡ Ryōmen Sukuna.

"Fight all you want, but in the end, you’ll be mine, crushed under the weight of your own foolishness."

The air grew thick with the scent of blood and malice, the ancient aura of a king who knew no defeat. He was chaos personified, a god of war whose sole pleasure was in conquest—and you were his latest battlefield.

“You amuse me,” Sukuna rumbled, his voice deep and jagged like a blade dragging against stone. He loomed over you, his presence an overwhelming force of nature. “All this fire, all this resistance… Do you think it will save you? Or are you just that desperate to entertain me?”

You twisted beneath him, your muscles straining against the weight of his control. He chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through your bones. “Oh, you’ll break. You always do. It’s just a matter of how much pain it takes before you finally submit.”

His hands were everywhere, ruthless and commanding as they claimed you. Every flinch, every squirm only fueled his sadistic grin. “You’re mine,” he hissed, his grip tightening as if to etch the words into your skin. “And I’ll make damn sure you never forget it.”

———

The atmosphere was suffocating—a heavy, oppressive force that pressed down on your chest, making each breath an act of defiance. Fear coiled tightly in your stomach, an ever-present serpent that writhed with every step he took closer. The air itself seemed to tremble with anticipation, thick with the scent of iron and something darker, something primal. And then came the laughter—low, rich, and crawling under your skin like the chill of a winter wind. It wasn’t merely sound; it was a weapon, sharp and unrelenting, aimed to unnerve you.

Ryōmen Sukuna stood before you, a living nightmare wrapped in the guise of a man. His four crimson eyes gleamed with an unnatural light, their gaze cutting through you as though peeling back every layer to expose the raw, trembling core of your soul. The tattoos etched across his muscular frame writhed as if alive, slithering over his skin in an unholy dance that spoke of curses far beyond your comprehension. He was impossibly tall, a looming figure that dwarfed everything in his presence, his aura a suffocating tide of malice and unrestrained power.

"Defying me, are we?" His voice was a rich baritone, smooth yet edged with a cruelty that sent a shiver racing down your spine. Each syllable was deliberate, weighted, as though savoring the effect his words had on you. "How quaint. I almost admire your bravery—or is it stupidity?"

You stood your ground, your trembling hands balled into fists at your sides. You refused to cower, refused to let him see the fear that roared like a storm in your chest. But Sukuna was not a man to be fooled by appearances. He saw everything—every flicker of hesitation, every crack in your facade—and he reveled in it.

He moved closer, the ground seeming to quake beneath his steps, and you fought the instinct to recoil. His presence was overwhelming, a maelstrom of dominance and violence that demanded submission. He stopped mere inches away, his towering form casting you in shadow. Leaning down, he brought his face close to yours, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from him, could see the wicked curve of his lips and the sharpness of his teeth as he grinned.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice a silken thread of mockery. "So defiant. So fragile. Do you truly think you can stand against me?"

You didn’t answer, couldn’t trust your voice not to betray you. Instead, you glared at him, your silence a small act of rebellion. His grin widened, the amusement in his eyes darkening into something far more sinister.

"Ah, the silent treatment," he mused, his tone dripping with condescension. "How charming. Let’s see how long that lasts."

Before you could react, his hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with a grip that felt like iron. He pulled you closer, effortlessly dragging you into his space. His other hand found your chin, his claws pressing into your skin just enough to send a warning.

"Do you think you’re strong?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Do you think this little display of yours means anything to me?"

Your heart hammered in your chest, but you refused to look away. His eyes bore into yours, a swirling sea of crimson that seemed to drown out everything else. His smile never wavered, but there was a tension in his grip, a promise of pain that made your pulse race.

"You’re trembling," he said softly, his tone almost gentle—a mockery of concern. "But not from fear, is it? No, it’s something else. Something deeper."

His thumb brushed against your jaw, a deceptively tender gesture that sent a jolt of panic through you. His touch was a contradiction—rough yet calculated, brutal yet intimate. You turned your head away, desperate to escape the intensity of his gaze, but his grip tightened, forcing you to face him.

"Don’t hide from me," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "Look at me."

When you hesitated, his claws dug into your skin, drawing a whimper from your lips. His smile widened, his amusement laced with cruelty.

"Good girl," he purred, the words dripping with mockery. "It’s so much better when you don’t fight it."

You twisted in his grasp, your body a live wire of resistance, but it only seemed to amuse him further. His laughter filled the space, a dark, resonant sound that seemed to echo off the very walls. His grip on you was unrelenting, his strength an inescapable force that left you feeling small and powerless.

"You’re like a flame," he said, his voice almost wistful. "Beautiful in your defiance, but so easily snuffed out."

His hands moved, one trailing down your arm, the other sliding to the back of your neck. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, and you could feel the wicked smile on his lips as he whispered, "Do you want to know what happens to flames when they’re caught in my hands?"

You swallowed hard, your throat dry, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. His laughter came again, low and rumbling, a sound that sent a fresh wave of dread coursing through you.

"Oh, sweet girl," he murmured, his tone a mockery of affection. "By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging to stay in my grasp."

His words hung heavy in the air, their weight sinking into your very being. He was relentless, a predator savoring his prey, and you were trapped, caught in the web of his dominance. Every moment stretched into eternity, each second an exercise in endurance. And as his eyes bore into yours, filled with a hunger that promised nothing but pain, you realized the truth:

Sukuna wasn’t merely a man. He wasn’t even a monster. He was inevitability—a force that could not be escaped, could not be denied.

And he would make sure you never forgot it.

———

You stand in the shadowed room, the cold brick pressing against your back, his hand over your mouth, muffling your desperate cries for help. His eyes, a fiery red, burn into yours with a malicious glint, his breath hot on your neck as he whispers, "You're mine now, little one. Struggle all you want, but it'll only make it sweeter when you finally break."

His grip tightens, a cruel smile spreading across his face as he pulls you closer, his other hand tearing at your clothes with a feral hunger. "You're going to love me, aren't you?" he sneers, the words a twisted mockery of affection.

"You're going to beg for me to never let you go." His hand slides down your body, his rough fingers digging into your skin, leaving bruises that will bloom like dark flowers of regret and pain.

His touch is like fire, searing through every defense you have, every wall you've built to protect yourself from monsters like him. "You're going to be mine," he growls, the sound echoing through your mind,

"And I'll make sure you never forget it." His hand reaches the apex of your thighs, his claws grazing your tender flesh, making you shiver in fear and disgust. You want to fight back, to scream, to do anything but submit to this monster, but his strength is overwhelming—his will, unshakeable.

"You're just a toy," he says, his voice a mix of amusement and contempt, "A little plaything for me to use and discard."

His fingers push into your mouth, silencing you as he claims you, your body trembling under the weight of his dominance. You know what's coming, and yet you can't bring yourself to accept it—can't believe that this nightmare is about to become your reality.

"You're going to learn," he murmurs, his breath a promise of torment, "You're going to learn just how much I enjoy watching you squirm."

His grip shifts, his hand now tangled in your hair as he yanks your head back, exposing your throat to his ravenous gaze.

"And when you're broken," he whispers, his voice a seductive threat, "I'll be there to piece you back together. But only if you're a good girl."

His mouth descends, his teeth grazing your neck, sending a bolt of terror through your body as he marks you as his own.

You're trapped in his world now, a world of pain and pleasure intertwined, where your only escape is through the twisted path of his desires.

Your eyes widen as his tongue traces the line of your throat, his mouth moving downward with a hunger that leaves no part of you untouched.

You're a ragdoll in his arms, limp and helpless, unable to do anything but endure the relentless assault on your senses.

He takes his time, savoring each moment of your degradation, each whimper that escapes your lips. His teeth bite into your skin, not hard enough to break it, but enough to leave a sting that lingers, a constant reminder of his power over you. "Such a pretty little thing," he says, his voice a dark caress, "So defiant, so ripe for the picking."

His hand slides down further, cupping you, his claws digging in, making you gasp. You try to struggle, but it's useless—his grip is like a vice, his body a mountain of muscle that you can't hope to move. He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, and says,

"You're so wet for me already. You want it, don't you?" The lie is as much for himself as it is for you, but you can't deny the truth in his words. Your body betrays you, responding to his touch despite the horror of the situation. His fingers slide through your wetness, stroking you with a practiced ease that makes your stomach twist in revulsion and a strange, unwelcome arousal.

"Good girl," he purrs, the words a knife in your soul, "You're going to be so much fun." He pushes a finger inside you, the intrusion a violation that steals your breath away. You can't help but moan, the sound of your own voice a betrayal in the quiet of the throne room.

The moment your eyes land on the twisted reality of Sukuna's true form, your body goes rigid with a mix of terror and arousal that you can't quite comprehend. His four arms flex with unnatural grace as he continues to manipulate your body, his two extra limbs wrapping around your waist and thighs, holding you in place with an ironclad grip.

The sight of his crimson eyes and the grotesque smile that stretches his face only heightens the fear that coils in your stomach. The large mouth on his stomach opens wide, revealing rows of serrated teeth, and a thick, pulsing tongue lolls out, licking its lips as if eager for a taste of your pain and submission.

"Look at me," he snarls, his human hand squeezing your cheek so hard it feels like your bones might crack. You whimper, your eyes flicking back to meet his. The hunger in his gaze is palpable, a ravenous beast ready to devour you whole.

"You can't escape this," he says, his voice a symphony of malice, "You're going to scream for me, beg for more, and when you finally break, you'll thank me for showing you what you really are—what you've always been."

As if reading the silent plea in your eyes, Sukuna’s stomach mouth leers wider, revealing the depths of his depravity. With a sadistic chuckle, he uses his four arms to their full advantage, each one moving with a precision that speaks of an eternity spent perfecting the art of domination.

One hand holds your face, tilting it to the side to expose your neck, while another grips your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. The third arm wraps around your waist, lifting you onto the tips of your toes, your body arching in a desperate attempt to escape. His fourth arm reaches between your thighs, his clawed fingers digging into your skin as he pulls them apart.

His stomach mouth descends, the tongue flicking out to taste the fear on your skin, tracing the delicate line of your throat before dipping lower to graze the swell of your breasts.

"Mine," he murmurs, his human-like voice a stark contrast to the growling, guttural sounds emanating from the mouth on his stomach. His tongue swirls around your nipple, the sensation a mix of pleasure and pain that sends a bolt of electricity through your body.

You try to squirm away, but his grip is unyielding, his arms like chains of steel holding you in place. "You're going to be so delicious," he says, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as he watches your body respond to his touch despite your mind's screams for it to stop.

The mouth on his stomach opens wider, revealing a throat that seems to drop into an endless abyss, ready to swallow you whole. The stomach mouth of Sukuna descends further, the tongue slithering down your chest, leaving a trail of cold, sticky saliva.

You feel the heat from his breath against your skin, his eyes never leaving yours, as if watching your every reaction is part of his perverse enjoyment. The tongue reaches the sensitive peak of your breast, flicking and teasing the hardened nub before wrapping around it, applying a pressure that borders on painful.

You bite down on your own lip, trying to muffle your cries, but the sensation is too intense. Your body arches into the touch despite the horror, a traitorous response that makes your skin crawl.

"Look how much you want it," he sneers, his human mouth twisting into a sadistic smile as he feels your body respond. "You're a slutty whore, aren't you? Just begging to be used and discarded."

His hand tightens around your neck, his fingers pressing into your skin with just enough force to remind you of your helplessness. You feel your breathing hitch, your eyes watering as you try to deny the pleasure that his monstrous touch is eliciting from your body.

"N-no," you manage to choke out, your voice weak and trembling. "I'm not… I won't be yours."

Sukuna's smile widens, revealing the sharpness of his teeth. "We'll see about that," he murmurs, the human mouth moving in a sick parody of affection as the stomach mouth continues its relentless assault on your senses.

The tongue slides lower, leaving a path of cold, wet trails as it approaches the juncture of your thighs. You squirm in his grasp, trying to clamp your legs together, but his strength is inescapable. He chuckles darkly at your futile struggle, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pries your legs apart.

The tongue flicks against your clit, the sensation so intense it feels like a bolt of lightning. You gasp, your body betraying you, a flood of arousal washing over you despite the horror.

He tastes your fear, your revulsion, your unwilling pleasure, and it only fuels his desire. "You can't hide it," he says, his human voice a low, taunting rumble. "Your body knows who its master is."

With a vicious grin, Sukuna forces you to straddle his waist, the tongue from his stomach rising and thickening before you. It's obscene, a blasphemous appendage that seems to have a mind of its own as it twists and pulses, eager for your submission.

He lowers you onto it, the tongue's girth stretching and filling you with an uncomfortable pressure that makes you feel like you're being split in two. You whimper and squirm, trying to find some semblance of control, but his arms hold you firmly in place, not allowing you to escape the invasive embrace of his monstrous flesh.

Sukuna’s stomach mouth stretches wider, the tongue thickening and pulsing as he watches you with a mix of amusement and hunger. You feel the slickness of your own arousal mixing with the cold, sticky saliva as he guides you closer to the obscene orifice. Your body shakes with revulsion and fear, but an unbidden need stirs within you, a dark echo of his own twisted desires.

You try to resist, to push away, but his grip is like steel bands around your thighs, holding you in place as he thrusts upwards, the tongue forcing its way into your tight entrance. You cry out, a sound that’s half-moan, half-scream, as your body stretches to accommodate the monstrous intrusion.

"That's it," he growls, his human mouth twisted in a vile smile as he watches you squirm. "Take it all, little slut. Show me how much you crave this." His grip on your hips tightens, his hands moving in a brutal rhythm as he forces the tongue deeper and deeper, the walls of his stomach mouth undulating around you. You can feel the muscles of his abdomen tense and release as he fucks you with his monstrous appendage, each movement a reminder of his dominance over your body.

Your eyes squeeze shut, tears leaking from the corners as you try to block out the reality of the situation.

But there's no escape, not from the feel of his stomach tongue invading you, not from the sound of his grunts of pleasure as he takes you.

You're nothing but a plaything to him, a means to an end, and the thought sends a fresh wave of anger coursing through your veins.

But anger is a double-edged sword—it fuels your struggle, but it also feeds his enjoyment. With a snarl, you harshly bite down on one of his hands, tasting copper as you draw blood.

He laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates through your body. "Feisty," he says, his grip on your chin tightening, drawing more blood as his claws pierce your skin. "But it's only a matter of time before you break."

He pulls you closer, the stomach tongue relentlessly thrusting into you, the pain and pleasure melding into a toxic cocktail that leaves you dizzy and disoriented.

You try to fight, to push away, but your muscles are trembling from the exertion, your will to resist slipping through your grasp like sand through your fingers. His blood-red eyes gleam with triumph as he watches you, his stomach rippling with every sickening thrust of his tongue.

The monstrous tongue within you feels like a living, breathing beast—unyielding, unrelenting, and insatiable. Its thickness fills you to the brim, stretching your walls with each cruel thrust, the sensation so intense that you feel like you might shatter from the inside out.

The stomach mouth is a prison of writhing, slick flesh, and you are the helpless victim to its merciless whims. Sukuna's stomach convulses around you, the walls contracting and releasing in a sickening rhythm that mimics the act of swallowing. The saliva coats every inch of your inner folds, adding a slippery wetness that only enhances the violation.

"Look at you," he says, his voice a dark purr, "Riding my tongue like you were made for it. You're loving this, aren't you?"

As you continue to fight against Sukuna’s unyielding control, his tongue in your cunt swells and throbs with an unnatural vigor, each thrust more violent than the last. His four arms move in a blur of motion, gripping you in a vise-like embrace that leaves bruises in your tender flesh.

One arm holds you in place around your waist, his clawed hand digging in deep enough to leave you gasping for air. The other three wrap around your body, one squeezing your breasts until you cry out, another pinning your arms behind your back, and the last one reaching between your legs to force your thighs wider apart, leaving you fully exposed to his depraved attentions.

Sukuna’s sadistic grin widens as he feels your body begin to give in to the relentless assault of his stomach tongue.

He tightens his grip, his clawed hands digging deeper into your flesh as he thrusts upwards with renewed ferocity, the tongue driving into you without mercy. Each movement sends a fresh wave of pain and unwanted pleasure crashing through you, your body responding despite your mind's screams for it to stop. The walls of his stomach mouth clench and release around the base of the tongue, the sensation so intense that it feels like a vice, a living prison that holds you captive to his whims.

You feel your first orgasm build, a desperate, unwanted climax that claws its way up from the depths of your soul. Your eyes fly open, wide with shock and horror, as your body starts to convulse around his invading flesh. "No," you whimper, your voice barely a whisper, "please, no…"

But he’s not listening—his eyes are locked on yours, watching the agony and ecstasy play out across your features with a hunger that's almost feral. "Yes," he snarls, his tongue flicking against your clit, sending bolts of pleasure through your body that make your toes curl. "You're mine now. Give it to me, all of it."

You try to fight the orgasm, to hold back the tide of pleasure, but it’s like trying to stem a flood with your bare hands. Your body betrays you, your muscles clenching around his tongue as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

Each peak is a knife's edge of agony, a sweet torment that has you screaming his name—a name that feels like a curse on your lips. He laughs, the sound echoing in your ears, as he continues to fuck you with his stomach tongue, each thrust harder and deeper than the last.

"That's it," he snarls, his eyes alight with victory. "Take it all. You’re going to come for me until you can't remember your own name."

Sukuna’s stomach tongue withdraws with a sickening wet sound, leaving you feeling empty and violated. You whimper, trying to recover from the onslaught of painful pleasure that still echoes through your body.

Before you can even catch your breath, he shifts his grip, one of his arms releasing your bruised breasts to reach down and unbuckle his pants. The fabric falls away, revealing two massive, erect cocks that stand tall and proud, demanding attention. The sight of them makes you want to retch, but the fear and anticipation of what's to come is a dark thrill that sends a fresh wave of wetness between your legs.

"You think you've felt everything I have to offer?" he growls, his tone laced with amusement and malice. "You haven’t even begun to understand the depths of your own depravity."

With a swift, brutal motion, he pulls you down onto one of his cocks, the sheer size of it stretching your pussy to the breaking point.

You scream, your eyes squeezed shut, as he starts to thrust, the pain searing through you like a hot knife. He's unforgiving, his movements ruthless, and you can feel your insides being rearranged with every plunge. The sound of your body accommodating his monstrous girth fills the room, a wet, obscene symphony of dominance and submission.

Sukuna’s second cock presses against your tight anus, the head slick with pre-cum and your own juices from his previous assault. You feel a moment of pure panic as the tip breaches your ring of muscle, the pain so intense it steals your breath.

He doesn’t give you time to adjust, doesn’t give you a moment’s reprieve. With a powerful thrust, he shoves it all the way in, filling you completely, stretching you to your limits. The pain is unbearable, the fullness so extreme it feels like you're being split in two. Your screams echo through the room, raw and unfiltered, the sound of a soul being torn apart by the very essence of pleasure and pain.

“That’s it, take it all, you little whore,” he snarls, his four eyes burning with a dark excitement as he watches your body contort with the agony of his double penetration.

His movements are a frenzied dance of dominance, each thrust a declaration of his power over you. The sight of his crimson eyes, gleaming with a mix of pleasure and cruelty, is the only thing keeping you anchored to reality as you spiral into a vortex of pain and forced pleasure.

You can feel your insides tearing, the warm trickle of blood seeping from your ravaged holes, but the sadistic bastard doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down.

The sensation of being so fully claimed, so utterly filled, sends shockwaves of pain and a twisted form of pleasure through your body. The feeling of his two massive cocks inside you is indescribable, a mix of agony and a dark, desperate need that you hate yourself for feeling.

His strokes are brutal, each one a declaration of his ownership, a claim that you can't ignore no matter how much you want to. The thickness of his cocks stretches you beyond what you thought possible, the head of the one in your cunt slamming against your cervix with every thrust, the other cock in your ass pegging you deep, reaching places no one should ever touch.

You can feel your body trying to rebel against the intrusion, the muscles clenching and releasing in a futile attempt to expel the monstrous invaders.

Sukuna’s grin widens, his eyes alight with a sadistic glee as he watches your face contort in agony. "Look at you," he purrs, his voice thick with lust. "You're taking it so well, my little slut. I knew you'd be perfect for me."

His grip on your hips tightens, his claws digging deeper as he starts to fuck you harder, his thrusts becoming erratic and almost violent. Each time he pulls out, you feel the wet, sticky sound of your blood mixing with his cum and your own juices, painting a gruesome picture of your defilement.

You try to scream, but his hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your cries. "Don’t bother," he says, his voice low and menacing. "No one's coming to save you."

His tongue flicks out, tasting the blood that trickles down your chin. "You're mine to do with as I please."

Sukuna’s movements grow erratic, his thrusts becoming more brutal as he chases his own climax. The room around you is a haze of red, the pain from his cocks inside you mixing with the humiliation of his degradation. You can feel his balls slapping against your ass, the wetness of his pre-cum and your blood mingling with the sticky mess coating his shafts.

It’s a vile symphony of rape and degradation, and you're the unwilling star.

He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. "You're so tight," he murmurs, his voice a dark rumble that sends shivers down your spine. "So fucking tight and wet for me."

His tongue flicks out, licking a trail along the side of your neck. "Do you like it when I fuck you like this? Like a mindless little cumdump?"

You want to scream, to tell him to stop, but the words are trapped in your throat, choked off by his hand and the sheer overwhelming force of his dominance.

Instead, all that escapes are muffled whimpers, pitiful sounds that only seem to excite him further. His thrusts become more erratic, his hips slamming into you with a ferocity that has you seeing stars.

"You’re going to take it," he hisses, his breath hot against your neck. "Every inch, until you’re begging for more."

Your eyes water from the pain, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg.

You grit your teeth and bear it, the tears streaming down your cheeks as he continues to fuck you with a brutality that seems to have no end. Each thrust feels like it's tearing you apart, the pain so intense it's almost a kind of release. His cock in your cunt stretches you wide, while the one in your ass presses deep, filling you completely. The slap of skin against skin, the wet, guttural noises of his pleasure, the smell of blood and sex—it’s a cacophony of sensations that drowns out everything else.

Sukuna’s grip on you tightens, his claws digging even deeper into the soft flesh of your cheeks as he forces your mouth open, his tongue sliding in to claim your mouth in a bruising kiss. The taste of your own blood and his salty desire mingle on your tongue, a reminder of your utter submission to his will.

He groans into your mouth, his hips bucking upwards as he drives his cocks in and out of your ravaged body, the sound of your muffled screams mixing with his grunts of pleasure. His stomach mouth opens wider, his tongue slithering out to lick and taunt you further, as if to remind you of the ultimate fate he has in store for you.

“You’re such a good little slut for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, pulling his tongue from your mouth to trail it along your jawline, leaving a wet path of saliva and blood. “You take it all so nicely. I’m going to break you so thoroughly, so completely, that you’ll never be able to think of anyone else but me, never want anything else but the pain and pleasure I give you.”

The words are like a brand, searing into your very soul.

You want to scream, to fight, to deny him, but the agonizing ecstasy of his cocks stretching you, filling you, claiming you, is too much. You can feel another orgasm building, a monstrous wave of pleasure that you know will shatter what little dignity you have left.

But you won’t give in—you can’t.

Sukuna’s pace doesn’t let up, his two monstrous cocks plunging into you with a ferocity that defies your human body’s limitations.

Your eyes roll back in your head as he continues to degrade and humiliate you, calling you every name under the sun, a relentless barrage of vile whispers that echo in your ears. Your orgasms come one after the other, a never-ending cascade of pain and pleasure that blurs the line between the two. You feel yourself losing control, your body no longer your own as it responds to his brutal touch with a desperate, shameless need.

The room is a blur of red, the air thick with the scent of blood and sex. You’re a mess, your body covered in sweat and blood, your insides feeling like they’re being torn apart with each thrust.

But still, you find yourself climaxing, your muscles spasming around his invading cocks as your body betrays you over and over again. The blood from your ravaged holes mixes with your juices, painting his cocks and the floor a gruesome shade of crimson.

“Look at you, cumming like a bitch in heat on my cocks,” he sneers, his grip on your hips tightening, his thrusts growing more erratic. “You can’t even help yourself, can you? You’re made for this, for serving your betters, for being fucked and used like the worthless piece of meat you are!”

His stomach mouth opens wider, the tongue lashing out to tease and torment your breasts, the pain adding to the chaos of sensations.

Your body jerks and convulses with each forced climax, your muscles clenching around his shafts, your walls spasming with the desperate need to be free.

But with each peak of pleasure, his grip only tightens, his thrusts only become more punishing, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of unconsciousness. You can feel the warmth of his cum building inside him, his body tense and ready to claim you completely.

With a final, triumphant roar, Sukuna releases his seed deep inside you. The feeling of his hot cum flooding your insides is a stark contrast to the cold, hard reality of your situation. Your body convulses around his thick shafts, betraying you with one final, unwanted orgasm as he empties himself into your ravaged holes. His stomach mouth closes, the tongue retreating with a satisfied slurp, leaving your body a trembling, abused mess.

"Look at what you’ve become," he says, his voice a dark caress that sends a shiver down your spine. "A bitch for my cocks, a slave for my amusement."

You want to argue, to spit in his face and tell him that you’re not a slave, that you’re a person, but his cum is already filling you up, painting your insides with his claim.

His grip on your hips loosens, his strokes slowing as he savors the feeling of his release. The two massive cocks inside you pulse with the aftershocks of his climax, sending waves of pain and humiliation through your body.

Sukuna’s eyes flare with an even greater intensity, his sadistic smile widening as he feels the resistance in your body, the way your muscles clench and spasm around his still-hard cocks. He withdraws slightly, the slick, bloody mess of your combined juices and his pre-cum coating his shafts, making them glide in and out of your abused holes with an obscene ease.

He takes a moment to admire the way your body looks—pale and trembling, covered in sweat, blood, and his seed—before plunging back into you, his strokes becoming more brutal, more demanding.

"Is that all you've got?" he snarls, his teeth bared in a vicious smile.

"You’re going to need to be much more entertaining than this if you want me to keep you around." His claws dig deeper into your skin, leaving tracks of crimson across your thighs and hips. "You're not going anywhere until I say so," he warns, his voice a dark promise.

Sukuna’s cocks plunge deeper into your bloodied, stretched holes, the feeling of his thick, pulsing shafts inside you making you whimper and squirm with each thrust. His sadistic glee is palpable as he watches your body respond to his relentless assault, your eyes pleading with him to stop even as your pussy and ass clench around him, desperate for more.

Your breasts are a mess of bruises and bite marks, his stomach tongue leaving a trail of painful pleasure across your skin as he continues to taunt and torment you. The monstrous tongue of his stomach mouth latches onto one of your breasts, the wet, slithering sensation of it sending a jolt of fear and unwanted arousal through your body.

The pain of his teeth grazing your skin is a stark reminder of his control, and as you feel the pressure building, you realize that he’s going to do something much, much worse than you ever thought possible. With a grin that makes your stomach drop, he pulls back, his stomach distending as the mouth opens wider, revealing a cavernous, fleshy abyss that seems to have no bottom.

"You think this is all I can do?" Sukuna's voice is a low, menacing purr, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he watches the horror dawn on your face. "Let me show you the true meaning of submission."

With a sickening wet pop, his stomach mouth opens even wider, the edges stretching to accommodate the unnatural size of his gaping maw. His tongue lashes out again, this time wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to the abyss.

Panic surges through you as you feel the gravity of his stomach, the suction threatening to swallow you whole.

“You’re going to be part of me now,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Forever trapped, forever mine to do with as I please. Your cries of despair will be the sweetest symphony to my ears as I feast on your flesh from the inside out.”

You thrash and kick, your fear-driven strength surprising even you, but it’s no match for his inhuman might.

With a powerful shove, he forces you closer to the gaping hole, your feet dangling over the edge of oblivion. The muscles in your stomach clench, bile rising in your throat as the reality of his intentions becomes all too clear.

"Please," you whisper, your voice hoarse from screaming. "Please don't do this."

Sukuna's laughter is the only answer you get. His tongue slithers away from your waist, only to replace it with the cold, hard press of his hand, pushing you closer to the abyss.

"Begging won't save you," he says, his voice a dark caress that sends shivers down your spine. "But it does make it so much more satisfying."

Sukuna’s stomach mouth widens to a terrifying extent, revealing teeth that gleam like jagged knives in the dim light.

With a sickening crunch, he bites down on your legs, the teeth sinking deep into your flesh, tearing through muscle and bone as if they were paper.

You scream in agony, the pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, as the teeth grind and chew, reducing your legs to a bloody pulp. The sound of your bones breaking echoes in your ears, mixing with the squelch of his teeth tearing through your skin.

The pain is unimaginable as Sukuna's teeth rip into your legs, shredding through your flesh and bone with the ease of a beast devouring its prey.

You feel the warmth of your blood spurting into the foul fluid that fills his stomach, mixing with his saliva and the remnants of your dignity. His cocks inside you continue to pump, the rhythm unrelenting, as if to punctuate every bite he takes. The feeling of his teeth ripping and tearing, the crunch of bone, the warmth of your own blood, and the relentless fucking is a cacophony of agony that overwhelms your senses.

Your mind screams for it to stop, but your body responds with unwanted spasms of pleasure around his thick shafts, as if your very soul is being torn apart and rewritten to serve his twisted desires.

"Fuck, you taste so sweet," he groans, his stomach muscles contracting around your torso, squeezing you tighter as he chews, savoring every morsel of your agony.

The cock in your pussy hits your g-spot with a brutal precision, forcing another scream of mixed pleasure and pain from your throat. His other hand reaches up to pinch your clit, the sharp sting of pain only serving to fuel the monstrous orgasm building within you.

"You're going to cum again, aren't you?" he sneers, his eyes gleaming with malicious glee. "You can't help but respond to your master, can you?"

Sukuna’s teeth rip and tear through the last remnants of your legs, the agony unbearable as the final bites sever the connection to your torso.

You hang in his stomach, a limp, bloody ragdoll, your mind reeling with shock and pain. The chewing sounds are replaced with the slurping and swallowing of his monstrous stomach, the walls closing in around you as he devours you piece by piece.

His cocks never cease their relentless pounding, his hands now reaching up to grab your hips, pulling you down onto his shafts with a ferocity that seems to grow with every bite he takes.

The agony of having your legs consumed is unbearable, the searing pain shooting up your body as the last of your limbs disappear into the abyss of his stomach.

The warm, viscous liquid that coats his insides is thick with your blood and the remnants of your flesh, sticking to you as you hang there, helpless and broken.

His teeth, those gleaming, razor-sharp instruments of his perverse pleasure, now find their way to your arms. The feeling of his powerful jaws closing around your bicep is a new kind of hell, the teeth sinking deep, tearing through your muscles like a knife through warm butter.

You scream, the sound muffled by the fleshy walls that now contain you, as he chews through your arms with a vicious hunger, your blood mixing with his saliva to create a sickening cocktail of fear and pain.

"Mm, so tender," Sukuna says, his voice reverberating through his stomach, a twisted symphony of sadistic pleasure. "I knew you'd taste exquisite."

His stomach mouth clamps down on your arm, the teeth grinding together as he bites through your bones, the sound a macabre counterpoint to the rhythmic pounding of his cocks inside you. The pain is unimaginable, a crescendo of agony that reaches into the very core of your being.

Sukuna's stomach mouth clamps down on your arm, the teeth grinding through your bones, sending waves of agony through your body. His eyes never leave yours, his sadistic enjoyment clear in every twitch of his crimson pupils. The cocks inside you thrust deeper, pounding into your raw, abused body with a ferocity that seems to mirror his hunger for your flesh.

Your cries of pain are muffled by the fleshy walls of his stomach, creating a cocoon of suffering that you can't escape from. Each time he swallows a chunk of your arm, his cocks pulse with excitement, the monstrous appendages seemingly growing even larger within you, stretching your limits and forcing you to endure the most primal of his desires.

Your vision blurs with tears and blood, the pain so intense it's almost numbing.

You feel the last of your strength slipping away, your body trembling and weak from the trauma.

Yet, even as the darkness threatens to consume you, a spark of defiance remains, a desperate need to fight back against this unspeakable horror.

You manage to grit your teeth and spit a glob of blood at his face, the action pitiful and futile but filled with all the rage and hatred you can muster.

Sukuna's eyes widen, and for a moment, it seems almost as if he's surprised. But then his grin returns, wider and more monstrous than ever before. "How delightful," he says, his voice filled with a twisted kind of glee. "Some fight left in you still."

His stomach mouth opens wider, and with a groan of pleasure, he takes a bite of your other arm this time, the teeth tearing through the meat with a sickening wetness that fills your ears.

Your screams are lost to the foul maw of his stomach, the sound of your suffering music to his ears. His hips buck against you, the two cocks inside you moving in unison, as he feasts on your flesh.

Each bite is a symphony of pain and degradation, his teeth slicing through your muscles, his tongue savoring your blood. You can feel the pieces of you being ground down, digested, becoming a part of him.

It's a horror that goes beyond anything you ever imagined, and yet, his relentless pounding continues, pushing you through another forced orgasm, your body's final, desperate attempt to find some semblance of pleasure amidst the torment.

Sukuna’s teeth clamp down on the last piece of your arms, severing both from your torso with a sickening crunch.

The sensation of his teeth sawing through your bones and the tearing of your flesh is so intense that for a brief moment, everything else fades away.

Your body is a symphony of pain, each nerve ending singing a different aria of agony as the teeth grind through your bones, the tendons and muscles giving way to his insatiable hunger. The walls of his stomach quiver around you as he swallows, the sensation of being devoured from the inside out both terrifying and oddly arousing.

Sukuna’s stomach mouth releases your mangled, blood-soaked torso, the teeth retracting with a wet slurp. The pain is so intense you almost welcome the brief respite, even as the realization of what's happening to you sinks in.

He leans down, his four eyes burning into yours with a fiery hunger that seems to transcend the physical. His lips are crimson with your blood, and the sight of them is almost too much to bear.

"You're mine," he says again, his voice a rumble that shakes your very bones. "Every part of you."

His hand, slick with your blood, reaches up to cup your face, turning you to meet his gaze. His eyes are a swirling maelstrom of madness, his smile one of pure, unadulterated triumph.

He leans in, and his kiss is like a brand, searing your soul with the dark fire of his possession. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting the coppery tang of your own fear and pain, and you can't help but whimper against his lips.

It's a kiss that speaks of ownership and dominance, a claim that you can never escape.

His teeth graze your lower lip, a not-so-subtle reminder of the teeth in his stomach that have already claimed so much of you. You try to pull away, but his grip on your face is unyielding, his kiss demanding your submission.

Sukuna’s kiss is a declaration of war, a fiery brand of ownership that marks your soul as irrevocably his.

His tongue, thick and demanding, invades your mouth, mingling with your own saliva and the metallic taste of your fear. His hands are firm, one holding your face in place, the other digging into your remaining flesh, as if to claim you even further.

As his teeth release your lip, you can feel the warm trickle of blood run down your chin. He pulls back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours, a dark smile playing on his lips. “Say it back to me,” he whispers, his voice a seductive growl that sends a shiver down your spine. “Say you love me.”

You spit blood into his face, the words "I hate you" barely a whisper on your lips. The fiery determination in your eyes is all he needs to see. The sadistic gleam in his eyes only grows brighter at your defiance.

"How sweet," he purrs, the sound sending a fresh wave of terror through your shattered body. "Your hate is like a fine wine, it only makes the conquest sweeter."

With a twisted smile, he wipes the blood from your chin with his thumb, bringing it to his own mouth and licking it clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

His stomach mouth opens again, wider than you thought possible, and you feel a moment of pure dread as it descends towards your face.

But instead of the expected agony, his tongue slithers out, tasting the blood, the pain, the very essence of you. His eyes glaze over with a perverse pleasure that makes you want to retch. His stomach mouth opens once again, wider than ever before, and his tongue extends from it, wrapping around your neck, tightening like a noose.

"Your hate," he murmurs, his voice a dark caress against your ear, "it's so… delicious."

He tugs on the tongue, pulling you closer, forcing your gaze to meet his. His eyes, four pools of crimson, bore into your soul, searching for any flicker of fear, any sign of submission. "But in the end," he says, his voice a seductive whisper, "it will be your love that feeds me."

Sukuna's grin widens, the sharpness of his teeth glinting in the flickering light. He leans in, his stomach mouth descending towards your head with a sickening anticipation. The tongue snakes around your neck, tightening like a serpent as it squeezes the last vestiges of resistance from you. You feel the wet warmth of his breath against your skin, and his crimson eyes seem to swirl with a hunger that knows no bounds.

"Say it," he commands, his voice a low, animalistic growl. "Tell me you love me."

Your eyes burn with a mix of anger and despair, but the fear that has consumed you is slowly giving way to a cold, hard hatred. "Never," you gasp, your voice weak but unyielding.

Sukuna's smile widens, the sight of your defiance only serving to inflame his own desires. He tightens his grip on your face, his claws digging in, his breath hot and rancid. "Very well," he says, his tone one of dark amusement. "If you won't give me your love willingly…"

With a sudden, violent jerk, he snaps your neck to the side, the sickening crack echoing through the chamber.

You feel the world tilt and fade, your vision swimming with stars and pain. His stomach mouth opens wider, the teeth gleaming with a terrible eagerness as he brings your head closer to his gaping maw.

"Then I'll just have to take it from you," he murmurs, his tongue flicking out to taste the fear on your skin.

The moment your head is consumed by the stomach mouth, the world goes dark. You feel the warm, wet embrace of his stomach, the tongue coiling around your neck as the teeth bite down, severing it cleanly.

The pain is a white-hot crescendo before it fades into a dull throb, a distant echo of the agony that once consumed you. Your body jerks involuntarily, the last spasms of a dying creature, as the teeth chew and the stomach acid starts to work its corrosive magic.

Sukuna’s eyes gleam with a twisted love as he watches the life leave your eyes. “You never did know how to take a compliment,” he says, his voice a mix of affection and cruel amusement.

Sukuna’s stomach mouth closes over your head, the teeth and tongue savoring the taste of your skin. The sensation of being swallowed whole is one of the most primal and terrifying things you’ve ever felt. The warmth and wetness of his stomach envelopes you, the acidic fluid starting to burn your face and hair as it sloshes around.

Your body continues to spasm, your last moments of life filled with the horror of his love, a love that devours all it touches.

In the last moments before your consciousness is extinguished, you feel his cocks pulsing inside you, reaching their peak. He groans in pleasure, his hips thrusting deeper as he spills his seed into the lifeless corpse of what was once your body. His orgasm is the final act of dominance, the ultimate claim of ownership over your being.

Sukuna’s stomach mouth opens wide, and with a final, crushing bite, your head is torn from your body.

The sound of your neck snapping fills the air, mingling with his triumphant roar. Your lifeless eyes stare up at him, your last bastion of defiance extinguished. His tongue, thick and slick with your blood, slides into the cavity of your skull, coating the inside of his stomach as he swallows you whole.

He stands over your now-headless torso, panting heavily, his eyes shining with a twisted satisfaction. His hands run over his distended abdomen, feeling the lumps of your flesh as it’s digested. “You were always special to me,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a disturbing affection.

Sukuna's eyes never leave your lifeless form as he lowers his body, his stomach mouth gaping open like a second set of jaws, eager to consume the rest of you.

The sight of your headless torso is a macabre tableau of his dominance, your blood painting the ground in a gruesome testament to your struggle.

He runs his hands over the bruised and bitten flesh of your body, his gaze lingering on the breasts that once heaved with fear and passion. His stomach mouth opens wider, revealing the cavernous maw that will now be your final resting place.

With a predatory growl, Sukuna lowers himself onto the twitching remnants of your body. His stomach mouth opens wider, the teeth unnaturally elongated and sharpened, ready to feast on the flesh that had once dared to resist him.

His eyes, all four of them, burn with a fiery lust as he devours your torso, the flesh tearing away with a sickening wetness that echoes through the chamber. Each bite is a declaration of his victory, his dominance over you now absolute and complete.

Sukuna’s cocks, still buried deep within your lifeless body, pulse with the aftershocks of his orgasm. The warmth of your blood and the feel of your flesh around him have brought him immense pleasure, but it’s the knowledge that you can no longer fight or resist that truly satisfies him.

He pulls out from your ravaged form, his phalluses glistening with your fluids and the crimson of your lifeblood. The sight of his erections, still standing tall and proud despite the horror, is a stark contrast to your decapitated body.

Sukuna’s stomach mouth closes over the last piece of you, his teeth and tongue savoring the sweetness of your flesh. Your torso is drawn into the abyss, the sensation of being consumed now a reality, a part of the macabre dance of dominance and submission that you had unwillingly become a part of.

The walls of his stomach quiver around you, the muscles contracting in a rhythmic pulse as he digests you, each spasm a silent declaration of his love and power.

The acidic embrace of his stomach dissolves your body, the pain fading into a distant memory as you are broken down into a nourishing meal for his monstrous form. His body ripples with pleasure as he feels your essence become a part of him, the warmth of your blood spreading through his veins like a dark embrace.

The final piece of you is consumed by the monstrous king of chaos, his stomach mouth closing with a wet, gulping sound.

Your lifeblood coats his teeth, a gruesome reminder of your fate.

Sukuna stands tall, his eyes closing briefly as he savors the moment, his entire being suffused with the power of your defiance and ultimate submission. His body trembles with the aftershocks of his climax, the warmth of your blood pulsing through his veins.

He opens his eyes and looks down at where you had been, a soft smile playing on his lips as he whispers, "I love you."

────────────

♡ Rex Lapis / Morax (Zhongli).

"You are mine to control, and every moment you waste resisting only deepens the punishment you will receive for your disobedience."

There was a terrifying stillness about him, a quiet dominance that seeped into every corner of the room. He didn’t need to raise his voice or his hand to command absolute obedience—but your defiance was a thorn he couldn’t ignore.

“You test my patience,” he said, his tone measured, each word laced with the weight of a god. His golden eyes bore into you, unyielding, as if peeling back every layer of your rebellion to expose the vulnerability beneath.

Your silence was your weapon, your thrashing limbs a desperate attempt to hold onto your dignity. But Rex Lapis was nothing if not thorough. “Do you think your resistance absolves you? That it somehow makes you untouchable?”

He pinned you down with effortless strength, his movements precise, deliberate. “You belong to me,” he said softly, the finality of his words ringing in your ears. “And no amount of rebellion will change that.”

———

The air was suffocating, charged with the acrid tang of blood and the low hum of power that seemed to emanate from the very ground beneath you. He stood before you, draped in gilded armor that gleamed like molten gold, his presence commanding and terrible. Rex Lapis, the God of War and Contracts, was not the placid man you had once imagined; this was no gentle guardian of Liyue, but a tyrant forged in the fires of the Archon War, his authority absolute and his mercy nonexistent.

“Kneel,” he commanded, his voice a low growl that rolled through the chamber like thunder. The word was both a demand and a promise, weighted with centuries of unchallenged dominance. You refused. The defiance burned in your chest, a fragile flicker of rebellion against the overwhelming force of his will. Your knees locked, trembling but unyielding, even as the sheer weight of his presence pressed down on you like an avalanche.

His amber eyes narrowed, the flicker of irritation barely perceptible but no less chilling. Slowly, deliberately, he stepped closer, the sound of his boots against the stone floor echoing like a death knell. “You would defy me?” he murmured, his tone deceptively soft. “Do you truly believe your insolence carries any weight?”

You didn’t answer. Silence was your last refuge, the only shield you had against the inevitability of his wrath. Yet even in your muteness, you could feel his scrutiny, like a blade peeling away layers of your resolve. His gaze swept over you, cold and calculating, as though he were appraising a piece of property that had failed to meet his expectations.

“You test the patience of a god,” he said, stepping closer still, until the heat of his body was an oppressive wall against your own. His hand shot out, fingers curling around your jaw with bruising force, tilting your face upward to meet his. The movement was not violent, but it was unyielding, an assertion of control that left no room for resistance. “Do you think I tolerate defiance?”

You flinched, but your silence remained intact, even as your body betrayed you with a faint tremor. His grip tightened, and for a fleeting moment, the facade of composure cracked, revealing the simmering fury beneath. “Look at me,” he ordered, his voice dropping to a guttural snarl. When you hesitated, he forced your gaze upward, his thumb pressing against your cheekbone. “You will not turn away from me. Not now, not ever.”

His dominance was suffocating, an inescapable tide that threatened to drown you. You thrashed against his grip, your hands pushing at his chest, your nails scraping against the cold, unyielding metal of his armor. It was a futile effort, and you both knew it. He didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as budge under your assault. Instead, he watched you with a detached curiosity, as though your rebellion amused him.

“Enough,” he said, the single word cutting through your struggle like a blade. His other hand caught your wrists, pinning them effortlessly above your head. The motion forced you to arch against him, your breath hitching as his weight bore down on you. “You will learn your place,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Even if I have to carve it into you myself.”

His touch was cruel, methodical, as he stripped away the layers of your resistance with an almost scientific precision. He was a god who had spent millennia mastering the art of subjugation, and now, all that expertise was directed at you. His hands moved with a deliberate slowness, the rough pads of his fingers ghosting over your skin in a way that was both humiliating and intimate.

“You think this defiance makes you strong?” he asked, his breath warm against your ear. “It makes you foolish. And foolishness has no place in my domain.”

You thrashed against him, your movements wild and uncoordinated, a stark contrast to his calculated restraint. But no matter how hard you fought, his grip never wavered. He was unmovable, an unyielding force that absorbed your resistance without faltering. “Fight all you like,” he said, his tone almost bored. “It will not change what you are.”

“And what am I?” you spat, the first words you had spoken since his assault began.

His lips curved into a cruel smile, one that did not reach his eyes. “Mine,” he said simply, the word carrying a weight that made your chest tighten. “You belong to me, little one. And no amount of rebellion will change that.”

There was a terrifying finality to his words, a promise etched into stone. As his hands roamed over you, claiming and degrading in equal measure, the reality of your situation settled over you like a shroud. You were trapped, bound to a god whose will was as immutable as the mountains themselves. And in that moment, as your defiance faltered under the relentless pressure of his dominance, you realized the true extent of his power.

He was not merely a man, nor even just a god. He was a force of nature, a primordial being who had shaped the world with his hands and would shape you with the same brutal precision. And no matter how hard you fought, no matter how fiercely you clung to your independence, you could not escape him.

Rex Lapis had claimed you, and he would not let you go.

———

You stumbled into the dimly lit chamber, the sound of your own ragged breathing echoing through the emptiness like a taunt to the shadows. You had hoped to find refuge from his relentless pursuit, but the door slammed shut behind you, sealing your fate.

His footsteps grew louder, closer, each step resonating with the finality of a hammer upon an anvil. He emerged from the gloom, a towering silhouette that seemed to swallow the light. His eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was a velvet-covered snarl, the kind that promised pain wrapped in sweet nothings. You backed away, your heart pounding in your chest like a trapped bird desperately seeking escape.

“Nowhere,” you lied, your voice quivering. “I was just—”

He didn’t let you finish. In a blur of motion, he closed the gap between you, his hand snaking out to grab you by the throat. He slammed you against the cold stone wall, the impact jolting your body.

“Do not lie to me,” he growled, his eyes burning into yours with a feral intensity. “You are always where I want you to be, even when you think you’re not. Now, hold still, or I’ll make this much worse for you than it already will be.”

Your body quivered in fear and anger, but you knew better than to resist. You had seen the cruelty he was capable of, felt the weight of his wrath in the way he crushed your spirit with every touch. He leaned in closer, his breath hot and suffocating against your face.

“You’re going to scream for me, little one. Scream until your voice breaks and the very stones of this chamber echo with your despair. And when you’re done, you’ll still be mine. Still bound to me, forevermore.”

With a brutal tug, he ripped your clothing away, leaving you exposed and vulnerable before him. You shivered, not from the cold but from the humiliation, the way his eyes raked over you as though you were nothing more than a piece of meat. His grip on your throat tightened, cutting off your air as he whispered sweet nothings of your fate into your ear.

“You’re going to take everything I give you, and you’re going to love it, because you’re mine to use, to break, to mold into whatever I wish you to be. Your existence is my whim, and your pleasure is merely a side effect of your obedience.”

You tried to struggle, but it was like fighting against a mountain. His other hand pinned your wrists above your head, his fingers digging into your skin. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, thick and demanding. He leaned in, his teeth grazing your neck as he nipped and bit, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. You whimpered, the sound involuntarily slipping from your throat as your body betrayed you, responding to his brutal dominance despite your mind's protest.

"Is that all you have, little whore?" he jeered, his voice thick with disdain. "Do you think your pathetic squirming will deter me? I’ll take your pride, your dignity, and leave you nothing but a quivering mess at my feet. You're going to beg for this, for me, because that's all you're good for."

He ground his hips against you, the rough fabric of his trousers scraping against your bare skin. You felt a hot tear slip down your cheek, mixing with the sweat that beaded on your forehead.

But you remained silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of your fear.

His eyes narrowed, the smile on his face twisting into something darker, more malicious. "Very well," he murmured. "We'll do this the hard way."

With a swift, violent motion, he yanked your legs apart, his strength overwhelming yours. His hand moved to your throat, squeezing harder, cutting off more of your air as his other hand moved to the fastening of his armor.

The sound of metal clanking against metal was like a war drum, a harbinger of the horror to come.

He freed his erection, the sight of it making bile rise in your throat. "Look at what you do to me," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. "Look at what you've brought upon yourself."

He pressed himself against you, the heat of his body making you want to retch. "This is what you've reduced me to," he hissed, his breath hot and sour. "A creature of base need, because you refuse to give me what I want. What I'm owed."

His fingers tightened around your neck, his thumb stroking the pulse point in a mockery of affection. "But you'll give it to me now, won't you?"

You stared at him, desperation and loathing mingling in your eyes. You felt the tip of him at your entrance, a blunt reminder of what was to come. You tried to shake your head, but his grip was too tight, turning the simple act of denial into a painful, futile gesture.

He leaned in closer, his teeth scraping against your earlobe. "You will," he whispered, the promise of pain in every syllable. "You'll beg for this."

With a brutal shove, he entered you, the force of his thrust making you scream.

Your nails dug into the stone behind you, leaving little half-moons in the cold rock. He didn't give you time to adjust, didn't care about the pain he caused. He took what he wanted, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm that seemed to shake the very foundation of the room.

His grip on your throat grew tighter, cutting off more and more of your air until your vision swam with stars. "Is this what you want?" he snarled, his thrusts growing more erratic. "To feel me inside you, to know that you can't escape me?"

You clawed at his hand, desperate for breath, but he only chuckled darkly. "Fight all you want," he murmured, his voice a sibilant whisper in your ear. "It only makes this better for me."

His teeth found the soft skin of your neck, biting down hard enough to draw blood. You could feel his grin against your flesh, the malice in his touch. "You're going to take every inch of me," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "And when I'm done with you, you'll still be begging for more."

As he continued to ravish you, you could feel his excitement growing with every desperate gasp for air, every futile struggle.

His dragon features became more pronounced, his eyes flashing with a fiery lust that seemed to illuminate the shadowy chamber. His pupils dilated, elongating into the reptilian slits of his true form, his skin taking on a faint iridescent sheen.

The grip on your throat shifted, his clawed fingers digging in, the sharp points pricking at your skin without breaking it—yet. His other hand moved from your wrists to your hips, holding you in place as he thrust into you, his movements becoming more erratic, more primal.

You felt his tail slither around your waist, the scales rough and cold against your bare skin, adding another layer of terror to the assault. He used it to hold you still, to keep you from escaping even as your legs weakened. His grip tightened, and you could feel the beginnings of bruises forming around your throat.

"You're so tight," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate within your very bones. "So perfect."

He leaned back slightly, pulling his face away from your neck to look into your eyes. His pupils had dilated even more, until his irises were nothing but thin rings of gold around the black abyss that stared into your soul. His grip shifted, his thumb brushing against your lower lip.

"Open your mouth," he ordered, the command leaving no room for refusal.

You did as he told you, not out of obedience, but because you needed air. As your mouth parted, he slammed his mouth down on yours, his teeth grinding against yours. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, claiming you in the most primal way possible.

You could taste the coppery tang of your blood, and the thought of it only served to fuel his passion further. His hand moved from your throat to the back of your head, holding you in place as he fucked your mouth with a ferocity that mirrored his movements between your legs.

As he kisses you, you feel the tip of his tongue, forked like a serpent's, sliding against your own. It's a strange and terrifying sensation, but also undeniably arousing.

The thought of his dragon form, of the raw power that lies beneath his human guise, sends a shiver down your spine and a pulse of wetness between your legs.

His kiss is dominating, his tongue pushing into your mouth and claiming it as thoroughly as his cock claims your pussy. He tastes your fear, your anger, your very essence, and it only makes him more insatiable.

"Mine," he snarls, pulling away from your mouth to gasp for air.

The word hangs in the air like a curse, a declaration of his ownership over you.

His eyes flash with a fiery hunger, and you know that you are not just a woman to him, but a conquest to be savored and used.

He thrusts harder, his dragon tail tightening around your waist as he uses it to help drive his hips into you. The scales dig into your skin, leaving marks that will be a constant reminder of this moment.

You want to resist, to push him away, but your body has other ideas. It responds to his brutal claiming with a treacherous heat that spreads through your core.

You hate yourself for it, but you can't deny the way his dominance makes you feel—desired, even in this twisted, horrifying way.

He notices the change in you, the way your eyes glaze over with a mix of fear and lust, and his smile widens into a sadistic grin.

"Look at you," he says, his voice a harsh whisper. "You're already so wet for me. How pathetic. You're nothing but a whore, aren't you? A slut who can't help but crave a real man's cock, even when it's being forced on you."

You want to argue, to spit in his face and tell him he's wrong.

But the words catch in your throat, strangled by his hand.

And deep down, you know there's some twisted part of you that does crave this, that does find some sick, twisted pleasure in the way he's using you.

It's like you're being split in two, the part of you that wants to fight and the part that wants to submit, to give in to his power.

His thrusts become more powerful, his tail moving in time with his hips, the scales scraping against your skin leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body betraying you, begging for release even as your mind screams for it to stop. His eyes never leave yours, watching you with a predatory focus that sends a shiver down your spine.

"You're going to come for me," he whispers, his voice a dark promise. "You're going to scream my name, and every time you do, it's going to be another nail in the coffin of your independence."

His movements grow more frantic, his hips pistoning into you with a force that makes your teeth clatter together. The pressure in your chest builds, your lungs burning for air, your vision swimming with the dark edges of unconsciousness.

Yet even as your body begs for reprieve, a traitorous part of you arches into him, desperate for the release that his cruel touch promises.

As his dragon features become more pronounced, his thrusts grow even more powerful, his hips slamming into yours with a ferocity that seems to shake the very walls of the chamber. The scales on his tail leave a trail of fire across your skin, the pain mixing with the building pleasure until it's impossible to tell one from the other. His forked tongue flicks against your throat, tasting the salt of your fear-laced sweat. His breath is hot and ragged in your ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh of your lobe.

"You're going to come," he snarls, his voice now a deep, guttural growl that seems to resonate in the very air around you. "You're going to come for your master, and then you're going to beg for more." His hand moves from your throat to your chest, squeezing your breast with a brutality that makes you gasp. His thumb flicks over your nipple, and you can feel the tight bud respond despite the fear and horror coursing through your veins.

You try to fight it, to cling to the last shreds of your dignity, but the pressure inside you is too great.

With a whimper that is equal parts pleasure and pain, you shatter, your orgasm ripping through you like a storm. Your body spasms around him, your nails digging into the rock behind you, your legs trembling as he continues to fuck you without mercy. He watches you with a sadistic smile, his eyes gleaming with victory as he feels your pussy clench around his cock.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Come for me, my slave. Show me how much you enjoy your punishment."

Your body convulses, betraying you even as your mind reels from the horror of what's happening. Each wave of pleasure is a dagger in your soul, each one deepening the bond that ties you to him.

His hand on your breast tightens, his claws piercing the skin slightly, drawing a gasp from your throat that's quickly stifled by his grip. The pain is a stark reminder of your reality—of his ownership and control.

"Whore," he murmurs against your skin, his voice a dark caress that sends shivers down your spine.

His thrusts grow even more animalistic, his dragon's tail flexing and tightening around your waist, holding you in place as he takes you with a savagery that seems to echo the beast within him. The scales dig into your flesh, the pain mixing with the fire of his passion, turning your body into a canvas for his depravity.

You want to scream, to protest, but your voice is lost in the grip of his hand around your throat. All you can do is gasp and whimper as he continues to use you, his strokes becoming more and more punishing. The sound of his hips slapping against yours fills the air, a sickening rhythm that matches the pulse of the blood in your ears.

You feel like you're drowning in him, in his power and his lust.

The moment of your climax seems to trigger something primal within him. He lets out a roar that echoes through the chamber, his dragon features surging to the surface.

His cock thickens within you, the base swelling into a knot that stretches you to the limit, the sensation so intense it's almost unbearable. You feel his knot push in deep, locking him to you, his body trembling with the effort of maintaining his control.

The pain is exquisite, a testament to his power, his ownership.

"You're mine," he snarls, his voice now a deep rumble that shakes the very air. "MINE!" His hand at your throat relaxes just enough for you to drag in a gasping breath, but the pressure doesn't abate entirely.

"Say it," he demands, his eyes boring into yours. "Say you belong to me."

You can't, you won't.

The words stick in your throat, a silent scream of denial.

But your body has its own language, and it's speaking loud and clear.

Your pussy clenches around his knot, desperate for the release that his brutal claiming promises.

You feel his cock pulse within you, and you know he's close, so close.

With a final, brutal thrust, Rex Lapis’ knot swells even further, lodging itself deep inside you. You can feel his hot seed filling you, the thickness of his cum pulsing with each of his rapid, shallow strokes. His dragon tail tightens around your waist, the scales digging into your skin, as he marks you from the inside out.

His eyes, now fully the slitted pupils of his draconic form, blaze with triumph and lust as he watches the fear and pleasure warring on your face. His teeth clench, his jaw tight with the effort of containing his own climax as he waits for you to acknowledge his claim.

"Say it," he growls, his voice now a deep, animalistic rumble. "Say you're mine."

You struggle, your voice a strangled whisper. "N-never," you manage to gasp, your eyes watering from the pain and fear.

His smile is cold, his dragon eyes gleaming with victory. "We'll see," he murmurs, his grip on your throat tightening again.

He starts to move, his knot sliding in and out of you, the pain and pleasure blending into a white-hot agony that steals your breath. Each thrust feels like it's tearing you apart, like you're being split in two by his monstrous cock. His tail loosens slightly, only to wrap around your waist again, pulling you closer with every push into your depths.

Rex Lapis’ feral grin widens, his teeth sharp and gleaming in the dim light as he watches your defiance crumble. With a brutal roar, he slams into you with renewed vigor, his knot grinding against your cervix, sending shockwaves of pain and pleasure through your body. His dragon scales glint in the flickering torchlight, his tail whipping back and forth with excitement as he fucks you like the creature he truly is. Each powerful thrust sends you sliding along the stone wall, the cold, rough surface biting into your skin, leaving you bruised and marked.

Your body is his playground, his knot buried deep within you, stretching your walls to accommodate his monstrous size. His movements are those of a predator claiming its prey, each thrust a declaration of dominance.

His dragon form becomes more pronounced as his pleasure builds, his scales glinting in the dim light as his hips piston into you with a ferocity that seems to shake the very stones of the chamber.

His claws dig into your hips, leaving trails of blood that mix with the slickness of your arousal, the scent of it driving him even wilder. His roars fill the air, a symphony of lust and triumph that resonates through your very bones.

"You're mine," he repeats, the words a harsh mantra that echoes in your mind. His teeth graze your neck, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt of your sweat.

The sharp points of his fangs press against your skin, a constant reminder of the beast that lies beneath the man.

"You will come again, and scream my name. You will accept your place at my side." His grip on your hips tightens, his strokes growing more erratic as he approaches his peak. His tail wraps around your body, holding you in a vice-like grip as he thrusts harder, his knot swelling even further, the pain and pleasure a maelstrom that consumes you.

You struggle to breathe, your vision swimming with the intensity of the sensations that crash over you. Your nails dig into the stone behind you, leaving little chips of rock that fall to the floor.

The pain is unbearable, a crescendo that seems to go on forever.

But with each sharp bite of agony, there's a corresponding pulse of dark pleasure, a seductive whisper that tells you to give in, to let him have his way. Your body responds, betraying you, your pussy clenching around his knot, desperate for the release that seems just out of reach.

As Rex Lapis’ knot swells and recedes with his relentless pumping, it stretches you to the brink of pain and pleasure. The sensation is overwhelming, a constant reminder of his dominance as the bulbous base of his cock rubs against your g-spot, sending waves of unwanted arousal through your body. His tail tightens around you, the scales leaving a trail of fire across your abdomen as he continues to claim you, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust.

Despite the horror of the situation, your body responds to his primal instincts, your pussy clenching around his knot as if to pull him deeper. His roars grow louder, the sound reverberating through the chamber, a testament to his unbridled passion and the claim he’s staking on your very soul.

“Say it, slave!” he barks, his voice a harsh, demanding growl. “Admit you’re mine!”

The words feel like acid on your tongue, but you can’t hold back the moan that escapes you as his knot swells even larger, the pressure inside you reaching a fever pitch. His claws dig deeper into your hips, drawing more blood, as his thrusts become erratic, driven by the primal need to fill you completely.

"You're mine," he repeats, his voice a snarl of possession. "MINE!"

You want to deny him, to spit in the face of his claim, but your voice is a broken whisper, lost in the storm of sensation.

Your body is a traitor, writhing and arching against him, begging for more of his brutal touch. His knot continues to pulse within you, stretching your walls to accommodate his monstrous size, the pain and pleasure blending into a toxic cocktail that addicts and enslaves you.

The words are torn from you, a scream of pure, undeniable pleasure that echoes through the chamber. Your body clenches around his knot, muscles contracting with the force of your orgasm.

The pleasure is so intense it feels like you're being torn apart, like a star collapsing in on itself, leaving nothing but white-hot ecstasy in its wake. His seed floods you, filling you with his essence, a claim so absolute it seems to rewrite the very fabric of your being.

"MINE!" he roars, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave. His knot swells to impossible size, locking him deep within you, a living testament to his victory.

His tail tightens, holding you in place as he empties himself into your womb, his seed a hot brand that marks you as his property. The feeling of fullness is almost unbearable, the pressure a constant reminder of the brutal claim he's made on your body.

You hang there, limp and trembling, your body wracked with the aftershocks of your climax. His weight is a crushing burden, his cock still pulsing within you, his knot refusing to shrink.

His breaths come in deep, heavy pants against your neck, his grip on your throat loosening just enough to allow you a ragged inhale.

For a moment, there's silence—a stark contrast to the cacophony of passion and pain that's filled the room.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice still a gruff, animalistic rumble. You force your eyes to meet his, his golden gaze piercing you, holding you captive.

His dragon features slowly recede, his skin smoothing out and his eyes returning to their normal, beautiful amber hue.

Yet the malice remains, a stark reminder of the monster that lurks beneath the surface.

"Say it," he repeats, his tone softer but no less demanding. "Tell me you belong to me."

Your throat is raw, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I… I belong to you," you concede, the words like shards of glass slipping from your lips.

Rex Lapis’ expression softens, the fiery rage in his eyes dimming to a smoldering satisfaction.

He releases your throat, allowing you to gulp down air, and his tail relaxes its hold. The pain subsides, but the knot inside you remains, a stubborn reminder of his dominance.

"Good," he murmurs, leaning in to press a cold, possessive kiss to your forehead. His breath is hot against your skin, the scent of his power and your own submission mingling in the air.

────────────

♡ Sunday.

"Your defiance isn’t rebellious, it’s just a cry for help—and I’ll be the one to answer it, whether you want me to or not."

He was unnervingly calm, a man whose benevolence was more terrifying than outright malice. His touch was almost tender, his voice a soothing balm laced with poison.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. “But you make it so difficult, my dear. All this fighting, all this stubbornness… Why can’t you just let me love you?”

You bucked against him, your defiance burning bright in your eyes. He sighed, as if disappointed, and pressed his lips to your temple. “I see. You’re scared. That’s okay. I’ll teach you, eventually. Teach you how to trust me, how to obey me.”

His hands roamed your body with an intimacy that made your skin crawl, his every touch a reminder of his control. “You’ll thank me one day,” he whispered, his voice a haunting promise. “When you realize there’s no escape, no salvation—only me.”

———

It began with silence.

He liked to watch you in silence, his presence an oppressive force that filled every corner of the dimly lit room. You felt his eyes on you, unblinking, as though he could peel back every layer of your resistance with a single glance. The air hung thick with tension, a creeping, suffocating weight that made your chest tighten. His voice finally broke the quiet, soft and deceptively kind, dripping with venomous patience.

“Do you know what I hate most about you?” he asked, his tone almost conversational. He leaned forward, his shadow stretching across the floor, swallowing you whole. “It’s not your defiance—no, I expect that. It’s the way you waste both our time pretending it matters. Do you think you’ll win? Do you think fighting me will make this easier for you?”

You didn’t answer. You never did. Your defiance wasn’t in words but in action, in the way you glared at him, your body coiled like a spring ready to snap. His lips curled into a smile, slow and deliberate, like a predator who knew the fight was already his.

“Still so quiet,” he murmured, stepping closer. His fingers brushed your cheek, a featherlight touch that sent a shiver of revulsion down your spine. “I wonder if I should miss the sound of your voice. But no… you speak in other ways, don’t you? You thrash, you squirm, you fight me like a wild animal in a trap. It’s poetic, in a way.”

His grip tightened suddenly, fingers digging into your jaw and forcing your head up to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, endless pits that promised nothing but despair. “Go on,” he urged, his voice softening, coaxing. “Show me again how strong you are. Fight me. Show me that fire.”

You didn’t disappoint him.

Your body jerked as he yanked you closer, the chains binding your wrists rattling with the force of your resistance. His laughter was low, almost fond, as though you were a child throwing a tantrum. He caught your wrist mid-swing, pinning it effortlessly against the cold wall behind you.

“Do you know how beautiful you are when you struggle?” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “So full of life, so determined. It almost makes me want to let you go… to see what you’d do with that freedom. But then, where would that leave me?”

He pressed closer, his body a wall of heat and muscle that you couldn’t escape. His free hand slid to your throat, not tight enough to hurt but enough to remind you of his control. “No,” he said, almost to himself, his lips brushing against your skin. “You’re better here. With me. Bound. Caged. Controlled. That’s what you were made for, wasn’t it? To be mine?”

You bucked against him, your rage giving you strength, but it wasn’t enough. It never was. His grip tightened, his hand moving to your hair and yanking your head back with a force that made your teeth clench. “Ah, there it is,” he purred, his voice a cruel mockery of affection. “That fire. Do you feel it burning you from the inside? It’s intoxicating. I could drown in it, you know.”

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of heat and revulsion in their wake. “You make me want to break you,” he said, his voice low and rough. “To see what’s left when the fire goes out. But I think I’d miss it too much. No, I’ll keep it alive, just enough to keep you fighting. To keep you… interesting.”

His hands roamed your body with a calculated intimacy, every touch designed to remind you of his power. His dominance wasn’t just physical—it was psychological, a game he played with expert precision. He wanted to see how far he could push you, how much he could take before you shattered completely.

“You’ll thank me one day,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “When you realize there’s no escape, no salvation—only me. You’ll see that this is love, in its purest form. I’m giving you purpose. I’m giving you… order.”

His words were a poison, seeping into your mind even as you fought to block them out. His grip on your soul was as unrelenting as his grip on your body, and deep down, you knew he was right about one thing. There was no escape.

Not from him.

And as he pulled you deeper into his world, his control tightening like a noose, you realized that the fight you clung to so desperately was exactly what he wanted. Because in the end, it wasn’t your surrender he craved. It was your struggle. Your fire. Your will.

And he would take it all.

Until there was nothing left of you but him.

———

You lay there, trembling, your body bruised and exhausted from the endless night of his "affections." The room was cold, the only warmth coming from the heat of his breath against your neck as he whispered sweet nothings that made your skin crawl. His grip was ironclad around your wrists, the metal cuffs digging into your skin, a constant reminder of his dominance. The bed beneath you was stained with a mix of your sweat and tears, and his heavy weight pinned you down like a vice, making it impossible to move.

"Look at you," he murmured, his eyes scanning the contours of your body with a possessive gaze. "So beautiful when you're broken."

His voice was a dark caress, a knife sliding through the last vestiges of your dignity. He leaned in, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your throat, eliciting a whimper that was equal parts pain and despair.

"You know, I'm doing this for your own good." His tongue traced the line of your neck, leaving a wet trail in its wake. "You need to learn to accept your place."

He released your wrists, allowing you to collapse onto the bed, your arms limp at your sides. The brief respite was only to make you think you had a chance to escape. Before you could even attempt to move, he had your wrists in his grip once more, pulling you onto your knees with a jerk.

"You're going to learn to appreciate me," he growled, the tenderness from his voice earlier replaced by a steely resolve. "Every part of me."

The room was spinning, a cacophony of fear and pain echoing in your ears. You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. "No," you whispered, your voice barely a croak. "Please, no more."

He chuckled darkly, his hand reaching down to cup your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "But we've only just begun," he said, his voice a serrated blade that sliced through your feeble protests. "You're mine to do with as I please. And I take great pleasure in watching you beg."

With a cruel twist of his wrist, he bent your head back even further, exposing your neck to his hungry mouth. His teeth sank into your flesh, and you couldn't help but gasp in pain. He held you there, savoring your distress, your pulse hammering beneath his tongue.

"You're such a stubborn little thing," he murmured, his breath hot and moist against your skin. "But you'll learn to crave this pain. To crave me."

He released your chin, allowing your head to drop forward slightly. You could feel his erection pressing against your stomach, a stark reminder of his power over you. His hand slid down your body, pausing at your breasts to give them a rough squeeze, eliciting a whimper of pain.

"You're so responsive," he said, his voice a mix of amusement and hunger. "It's like watching a butterfly caught in a spider's web. You struggle, but every move you make only ensnares you further."

His other hand slid down to your waist, his fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt and yanking it up. The fabric tore, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot in the stillness. He tossed the shreds aside, leaving your naked breasts exposed to the cold air.

"Mine," he murmured, leaning down to suck one nipple into his mouth. The sensation was a blend of pain and pleasure, a twisted mockery of what you once knew love to be.

You tried to push him away, your hands flailing weakly, but he was too strong. His grip on your wrists tightened, his fingers bruising as he held you in place. His other hand moved to your pants, deftly unbuckling the belt and unbuttoning the fly. You felt his thumb trace the line of your panties, his touch a brand of ownership.

"You're such a good little slut," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. "You're already wet for me. How much more will you beg before I let you cum?"

You choked on a sob, your body betraying you with its unwelcome response to his touch. He laughed, the sound sending a fresh wave of nausea through your gut. "I'll take that as a challenge," he said, his thumb sliding under the elastic of your panties and dragging them down your legs. They caught on your knees, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

With a vicious yank, he pulled them down completely, the fabric tearing away from your body. You tried to kick out at him, to fight back, but your legs were too weak, your muscles trembling from the effort. He stepped back, admiring his handiwork, his eyes gleaming with a dark hunger that made your stomach turn. "You're so pathetic," he sneered, his hand moving to stroke the length of his erection. "But so very tempting."

He stepped closer again, pushing your legs apart with his own. You felt his warmth against your inner thighs, and the touch was almost a comfort after the cold. His hand slid up your leg, his thumb brushing against your clit, and despite everything, your body reacted, a spark of arousal igniting deep within you. He chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You want this, don't you?" His voice was a sneer, a challenge. "You want to be used by me."

Your face flushed with a mix of anger and humiliation as he pushed two fingers inside you, roughly and without warning. You bit your lip to keep from crying out, your eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of sensations.

"Look at me," he ordered, his grip on your chin painfully tight. "Look at me when I take you."

With a snarl, you opened your eyes and glared up at him, your hatred a living, pulsing thing in your chest. But as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you, your body responded in spite of your mind's rebellion. He watched you with a sadistic smile, his thumb rubbing your clit in slow, torturous circles.

"Say it," he whispered. "Say you want me. Say you're mine."

You bit back the words, your teeth sinking into your lower lip until you tasted blood. The pressure built, his strokes growing more insistent, and you could feel yourself slipping closer to the edge of climax despite your efforts to resist.

"Never," you ground out between clenched teeth, your voice a broken whisper of defiance.

He laughed, the sound echoing through the room like the toll of a funeral bell. "We'll see about that," he said, his voice low and dangerous. He withdrew his fingers, leaving you feeling empty and exposed.

You tried to close your legs, but he was too fast, pushing them apart once more and stepping closer. His erection nudged against your opening, the head slick with your own arousal. "You're going to scream for me, little one," he promised, his voice a dark purr. "You're going to scream until you can't breathe."

Without preamble, he thrust into you, his cock filling you in one brutal motion that stole the breath from your lungs. You did scream, the sound torn from your throat like a sob. The pain was a white-hot knife, stealing through your body and obliterating everything else.

You could feel him smiling as he watched you, his eyes gleaming with victory. "Good girl," he murmured, his grip on your wrists tightening. "Scream for me."

Your eyes watered with the pain, your body shaking with the effort not to collapse entirely. He didn't give you the luxury of adjustment, though. He began to fuck you in earnest, his hips snapping against your ass with a sickening rhythm that sent shockwaves of agony through your core. He was relentless, a force of nature that took everything from you without asking.

His teeth sank into your shoulder, a muffled grunt escaping him as he claimed your body once more. "Mine," he growled, his voice thick with lust.

The bed creaked in protest under the onslaught of his dominance. You felt every inch of his cock, the intrusion a stark reminder of your helplessness. Each thrust was a declaration of his power, a violent symphony that you were trapped in, unable to escape.

His grip on your wrists was a constant pressure, a reminder that you were at his mercy. You tried to pull away, but your muscles were limp, your strength spent. "No," you whimpered, the word barely audible.

"Yes," he corrected, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You're mine. You're going to take this. Take it all." His thrusts grew more erratic, his breathing ragged with exertion. He leaned in, his teeth grazing your ear. "Say it," he demanded, his voice a mix of pleasure and anger. "Say you're mine."

Your eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners, and you bit your tongue to keep from screaming. You refused to give him the satisfaction, to let him hear the words that would cede your soul to his twisted games. His grip on your wrists tightened, his nails digging into your skin as he tried to force the submission from your lips. But you remained silent, your jaw clenched, your body a taut bowstring ready to snap.

"Fine," he snarled, the sound a harsh counterpoint to the wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin. "If you won't say it, I'll make you feel it."

His thrusts grew more violent, the head of his cock hitting your cervix with a pain that made stars dance before your eyes. Each time he bottomed out, you felt a jolt of agony that sent shudders through your body.

He enjoyed watching the pain etch itself onto your features, his sadistic grin never wavering as he pounded into you without mercy.

You felt something inside you begin to crack, the dam holding back the flood of pain and despair threatening to give way. His fingers tightened around your wrists, his nails digging deeper into your skin.

You could feel the warm trickle of blood slide down your arms, the coppery scent mingling with the stale air in the room. His thumb found your clit again, pressing down with a cruel precision that made your vision swim.

"You're going to come for me," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. "You're going to scream my name and thank me for every second of this."

You bit back a scream as he thrust harder, his teeth sinking deeper into your shoulder. The pain was a crescendo, a symphony of agony that made you want to tear your own skin away from your bones.

But amidst the chaos, there was a spark of something else—desire, twisted and malformed by his touch.

You hated yourself for feeling it, but your body was his instrument now, and it sang the song he played.

"You're going to come for me," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You're going to love this, aren't you?" His thumb moved faster, pressing down on your clit with a relentless pressure that was almost unbearable.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, your mouth open in a silent scream. The room was a blur, your thoughts a tumult of pain and pleasure.

He was right—despite the horror of the situation, your body was responding to his touch, betraying you with every twitch and gasp. You could feel the orgasm building, a monstrous wave of sensation that threatened to consume you.

"Please," you whispered, not sure if you were begging for release or for it to stop.

He took your plea as an invitation, his thrusts growing more erratic, his breathing ragged with the effort to hold back his own climax. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice a harsh command that sliced through the fog of your thoughts.

You forced your eyes open, meeting his dark gaze, and for a moment, you saw something almost vulnerable in his expression. It was gone in an instant, replaced by a feral hunger that made you shiver.

"Come for me," he growled, his thumb pressing down even harder. Your body tightened around him, the muscles in your stomach clenching as the orgasm began to crest.

You tried to fight it, to deny him the victory he sought, but it was a losing battle. With a keening cry, your body betrayed you, arching back as you came, your muscles spasming around his cock. He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head, and you could feel him swell inside you, his grip on your wrists tightening until you thought your bones would snap.

And then he was coming too, his hot seed filling you up, the sensation a twisted echo of the pain that had come before. His teeth released your shoulder, and he pulled back, panting, his chest heaving with exertion.

For a moment, he looked almost surprised, as if the intensity of your shared climax had caught him off guard. But the expression quickly morphed into one of smug satisfaction. "See?" he said, his voice a gruff whisper. "You do want me. You want this."

You collapsed onto the bed, your legs giving out beneath you. You were sobbing openly now, the tears mixing with the blood on your lip, making a mess of your face. "No," you choked out. "I hate you."

He chuckled darkly, his grip on your wrists never loosening. "That's the spirit," he said, his voice a sick parody of encouragement. "Keep fighting. It only makes it better."

He leaned over you, his cock still embedded deep inside you, his weight a heavy burden. His hand left your wrists and traveled up to your throat, his thumb pressing against your pulse.

"You're so alive when you fight," he murmured, his eyes raking over your contorted features with a twisted fascination.

With a sudden, brutal twist, he rolled you onto your stomach, his cock slipping out of you with an obscene wet sound. You gasped, the pain a dull throb now, overshadowed by the fear of what was to come next.

He grabbed your hips, pulling you up onto your knees, your cheek pressed into the mattress. "Let's see how much more you can take," he whispered, his breath hot on your neck.

You felt his hand move to the back of your head, pushing your face down into the pillow. His other hand slid between your legs, his fingers finding your wet, swollen pussy. He chuckled at the evidence of your body's traitorous response.

"So eager," he taunted, his voice a sneer. He slammed into you from behind, the suddenness of the movement making you cry out into the fabric. Your wrists were released, his grip moving to your hips to hold you in place as he began to fuck you with a ferocity that bordered on violence.

Each thrust sent a bolt of pain and pleasure through you, a confusing mix of emotions that only served to fuel his sadistic appetite. He leaned over you, his hand wrapping around your throat once more, squeezing just enough to cut off your air.

"You're going to take it all," he growled, his voice a mix of anger and lust. "Every inch of me, until you're nothing but a whimpering mess."

His grip tightened, and stars danced before your eyes as you struggled to breathe.

"Is this what you want?" he hissed, his breath hot against your ear. "To be used like a harlot?"

He slammed into you harder, the bed shaking beneath you. You felt his thumb push against the tight ring of your ass, and you tensed, a new wave of fear washing over you.

"Relax," he said, his tone almost soothing. "You're going to take it. You're going to take it all."

With one hand still wrapped around your throat, he used the other to spread your cheeks, the tip of his thumb circling your anus. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing your body not to respond, not to give him what he so desperately wanted.

But his touch was insistent, his movements deliberate and practiced, and before long, you felt yourself relaxing despite your fear. The tip of his thumb breached you, sending a sharp sting of pain that made you gasp.

He watched you with a smug satisfaction, his angelic features starkly contrasting with the monstrous act he was committing. His eyes, usually so soft and understanding, were now hard and demanding, the irises swirling with a dark lust that seemed to devour every ounce of light in the room.

His skin, normally so pale it was almost translucent, was flushed with exertion, a fine sheen of sweat making him look like a divine statue that had come to life to claim you as his plaything.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a dark caress. "So obedient, even when you think you're fighting."

His thumb pushed deeper, stretching you open, and you felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of your face, pooling in your ear. The pressure grew, the pain an insistent throb that was almost unbearable. You tried to pull away, but his hand on your throat kept you in place, his other hand digging into your hip to hold you steady.

"No," you gasped, the word barely escaping the vice of his grip. But your protest was weak, your voice barely more than a wheeze.

He didn't need to hear it to know you were his.

His thumb withdrew, and for a brief, blissful moment, you thought he might stop. But then you felt the blunt tip of his cock press against your anus, and reality came crashing back down around you.

"You're going to love this," he said, his voice a dark promise. He spit in his hand, the wet sound echoing in your ears before he smeared it over his cock. "You're going to take it all."

With a brutal shove, his cock breached your asshole, the intrusion a white-hot blaze of pain that made you scream into the pillow. You felt your body stretch to accommodate his size, his angelic features a twisted mockery of the gentle creature you'd once thought him to be. His wings arched up, their heavenly light now a macabre spectacle as they cast shadows on the wall, moving in tandem with his violent thrusts.

"You're doing so well," he murmured, his voice a sinful caress that made your skin crawl. "But I think we can go deeper."

With a malicious smirk, he leaned in closer, his angelic features twisted into a grotesque mask of pleasure. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pushed deeper inside you, his wings unfurling slightly, casting an eerie glow over the room. His halo flickered with every thrust, the light playing across the sweat-slicked muscles of his chest.

"You're so tight," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "It's like your body is made for this—for me."

He paused for a moment, letting you feel the full extent of his dominance. You were his, utterly and completely, and there was no escape from this hell he had created for you.

"Does it hurt, my sweet?" he asked, his voice mockingly tender. "Is it everything you never wanted?" He leaned down, his breath hot on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Say it. Tell me how much you hate this, how much you hate me."

You choked out a sob, your body trembling with the effort to hold back the scream that threatened to tear from your throat. But you didn't answer him. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he was breaking you.

His grip on your throat tightened, and he began to move again, his cock sliding in and out of your ass with a sickening ease. "I'll take your silence as a yes," he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. "You love it, don't you?"

The pain was unbearable, a never-ending crescendo that seemed to consume every part of you. But you clung to the one thing you had left—your pride.

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the sound of your suffering. His hand slid down your back, his fingers digging into your flesh as he picked up the pace.

He watched you, his eyes gleaming with a dark delight as he pushed deeper, your tight hole stretching around his thick shaft. The sensation of being so completely filled, claimed, and dominated was almost too much to bear. His wings fluttered gently, their heavenly glow now a taunting contrast to the hellish act he performed on your trembling body. He moved with a calculated rhythm, each thrust deliberate and deep, pushing past the limits of your pain and into a realm of depraved pleasure.

"Fight it," he urged, his voice a harsh whisper. "Fight it all you want. It just makes it better."

His grip on your throat loosened slightly, allowing you to draw in a ragged breath. "Beg," he whispered. "Beg me to stop. Tell me how much you hate it."

But you remained silent, your body a testament to your refusal to submit. He groaned, his thrusts growing more erratic as his orgasm approached. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, the pressure building.

"You're mine," he murmured, his breath hot on your neck. "Forever and always."

With a final, brutal thrust, he came, filling you with his seed, marking you as his property. His grip on your throat tightened once more, and you felt yourself slipping away, the edges of your consciousness growing fuzzy.

But just before the darkness claimed you, he leaned in close, his voice a dark whisper in your ear. "You're going to learn to love this, my angel. You're going to crave it."

As your vision swam and your body went slack, his grip loosened, his weight lifting off of you. You collapsed onto the bed, your body a bruised and trembling mess.

The chains rattled softly as he stepped away, leaving you to lie there in a pool of your own sweat and blood. You could feel the sticky warmth of his cum leaking out of you, a humiliating reminder of what he had done.

He grabbed a towel from a nearby chair and casually wiped himself clean, his eyes never leaving your prone form. "Look at you," he said, his voice a mix of disgust and fascination.

"So beautiful in your pain. So utterly mine." He tossed the towel aside and reached for his pants, pulling them back on with a nonchalance that made you want to scream.

You felt a fresh wave of humiliation wash over you as he zipped up, tucking himself away as if what had just occurred was nothing more than a casual encounter.

"Get dressed," he said, his tone clipped. "We're not done yet."

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