tsunaso

[tsunaso]

Omg i just read the muzan fic and tysm for writing it, is it ok if I request more about muzan?

I'm kinda obsessed with him rn

OF COURSE you can request him 10000 times, as long as he's on my rules !! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

[tsunaso]

Hi hi! I just read your works and saw your requests were open.

So sub muzan x dom male reader?

Maybe reader is a rich heir like muzan and his childhood friend, their relationship before and after the demon thing happens? And I loved the dark reader concept.

Thank you if you do write it <3

"EVEN KINGS KNEEL"

pairing. Sub!Muzan Kibutsuji x Top!male reader

synopsis. even as a demon, even with immortality at his fingertips, muzan is still beneath him. he always has been. — 2.7k

warnings. mdni, nsfw, amab reader, brat!muzan, power imbalance, degradation, forced submission (consensual but reluctant), edging, mild fear play, mutual obsession disguised as hate.

a/n: sorry I haven't posted in a hot minute. I was working on a jason todd fic, but had no idea how to continue it (I think I just wrote too much and got brunt out) anyways enjoy!

Muzan hated them.

The commoners. The peasants. The merchants who spent their days in the streets, moving freely beneath the golden sunlight. The men who trained as swordsmen, running drills until their bodies glistened with sweat. The children who sprinted through the fields, shouting with laughter, never once knowing the fear of collapsing in their own weakness.

It wasn’t fair.

He was the one born into nobility. He was the one who carried the bloodline of warriors and rulers. He was supposed to be above them all.

And yet, Muzan sat beneath the shade of the pavilion, his breathing uneven, his fingers gripping the armrest of his chair too tightly. Even now, beneath layers of silk and careful restraint, he felt the way his body ached from nothing. From existing.

It made his stomach churn with rage.

"How is it fair?" Muzan’s voice trembled with barely restrained fury, his dark eyes flashing as he stared at the courtyard. His fingers curled into his robes, nails digging into the delicate fabric. "I was born noble. I should be stronger than them. And yet—"

"—you can barely take five steps without needing to sit down?"

Muzan’s head snapped toward the voice, his scowl already in place.

Of course, it was him.

M/n stood nearby, watching him with that same infuriating smirk, the one that made Muzan’s teeth clench. He was dressed elegantly, his presence effortless, his posture relaxed yet undeniably dominant.

Muzan’s jaw tightened. "Don’t mock me."

M/n hummed in amusement, stepping forward, his movements slow, deliberate. He always walked like he owned the space he was in, and worse, like he owned Muzan, too.

"You do this every time," M/n said, voice rich with amusement. He came closer, standing over Muzan’s seated form, looking down at him like a misbehaving pet. "You act like the world has wronged you, like you deserve something greater. But all I see is a spoiled brat sulking because his body isn’t as strong as he wants it to be."

Muzan’s entire body tensed. His nails dug into his palms. "You—"

M/n didn’t give him the chance to finish.

A firm hand caught Muzan’s chin, fingers pressing against his jaw, forcing his gaze upward. Muzan sucked in a sharp breath, his body going rigid at the contact.

That damned smirk never wavered.

"Careful," M/n murmured, tilting Muzan’s head slightly, studying his expression. "If you sulk any harder, you might actually break something."

Muzan hated how easily M/n could do this. How easily he could touch him, tilt his chin, press his body into stillness with a single hand. And worse—how natural it felt. How Muzan’s body recognized the control, submitted to it even when his mind screamed at him to fight back.

His breath was uneven. His pride burned, sharp and humiliating.

"Shut up," he spat, jerking his head away from M/n’s grasp.

But M/n only laughed.

Low, knowing, completely unbothered.

Muzan could feel his pulse hammering at the sound.

"You always get like this," M/n said, stepping behind him, resting his hands over Muzan’s shoulders. The warmth of his palms seeped through the layers of expensive fabric, the weight of his touch steady, grounding. His fingers tightened, just enough for Muzan to feel the pressure. "You act like you hate your body, but you never actually do anything about it."

Muzan’s breath caught.

He bit his lip hard, his nails digging into his palms.

He hated how those words got to him. How they settled deep inside him, curling around the part of him that knew it was true.

But what infuriated him the most—what truly made him seethe—was the fact that despite everything, despite how much he hated himself, hated his fate, his weakness...

M/n never left.

Everyone else whispered behind his back, pitied him, spoke to him like he was fragile. The doctors prodded at him, his family tolerated him, the world resented him.

But M/n?

M/n never cared that he was sickly. Never allowed him to wallow in it. Never let him pretend that he was anything more than a furious, bitter, weak noble.

And yet, he was always there.

And Muzan hated how much he needed that.

　　　　　　　　˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Muzan Kibutsuji had never been weak.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

He wasn’t weak when he gasped for air in the middle of the night, his body burning with fever. He wasn’t weak when the doctors murmured behind his back, whispering about how long he would last. He wasn’t weak when he sat under the pavilion, forced into the shade while the world beyond him ran wild under the sun.

And he definitely wasn’t weak when he was beneath him.

Muzan clenched his fists. His breath was uneven, his body betraying him even as he tried to fight it.

He was lying on his back, silken robes barely covering his skin, his throat still aching from the grip that had held him in place moments before.

Above him, Reader smirked. Always smirking.

"You're shaking," Reader murmured, voice rich with amusement as he traced his fingers over Muzan’s stomach, feeling the way his muscles tensed.

Muzan scowled, twisting in a pathetic attempt to escape the touch. "Fuck you."

Reader only laughed, pressing him down into the futon with a single hand against his chest. "What was that?"

Muzan hated this. Hated how easily M/n could do this to him—how he could pin him without effort, holding him still like some helpless thing.

But worst of all?

He hated how his dick twitched when M/n’s voice dropped into something dangerous.

"Say it again," M/n murmured, fingers sliding down Muzan’s stomach, moving toward the silk belt barely holding his robes together. "I dare you."

Muzan gritted his teeth, glaring up at him. He wanted to fight. He wanted to spit something cruel and furious, to claw at any remaining pride he had left—

But then—

"Oh?" M/n grinned, tilting his head. "You’re hard."

Muzan froze.

His stomach dropped. His entire body burned with humiliation as M/n’s fingers ghosted over the growing bulge beneath his robes.

A choked sound escaped Muzan’s throat. "I—!"

"You what?" M/n  interrupted, his grip tightening over Muzan’s jaw, forcing him to look up. "You’re weak? You’re pathetic? Or—" he leaned in, his lips ghosting over Muzan’s ear, "are you just my little whore?"

Muzan trembled. His thighs clenched, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

He hated this. Hated how his body responded to those words. Hated how his cock pulsed at the sheer filth dripping from Reader’s tongue.

M/n hummed, taking his silence as an answer. "That’s what I thought."

With one sharp tug, Muzan’s robes came undone, the silk sliding from his body like water, leaving him bare beneath Reader’s gaze.

Muzan’s breath hitched. "Don’t—"

"Don’t what?" M/n’s voice was mocking. "Don’t look? Don’t touch?" His fingers curled around Muzan’s dick, stroking slowly, just enough to make him gasp. "But you’re already leaking, love. That’s disgusting."

Muzan let out a strangled whimper, his hips twitching despite himself.

M/n smirked. "You act like you hate this, but your body always tells the truth."

Muzan’s pride was in shambles, his mind spinning, but the worst part—the absolute worst—was that he knew M/n was right.

His body had always belonged to him.

"Turn over."

Muzan’s heart stopped.

He stared up at M/n, wide-eyed, his lips parted. "No."

"No?" M/n’s grip tightened over his thigh, his voice dropping into something dangerous. "Did I ask?"

Muzan shuddered. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

He could fight. He could resist.

But they both knew what was going to happen.

Slowly, humiliated, aching, Muzan turned onto his stomach, pressing his heated face into the sheets.

M/n laughed, his hands sliding down Muzan’s back, pushing his thighs apart, exposing the tight little hole that clenched instinctively beneath his gaze.

"Good boy," M/n purred. "Now, let’s see how much you can take tonight."

Muzan gritted his teeth, his entire body tense, every instinct in him screaming at him to fight back.

But he didn’t.

Couldn’t.

Not with M/n’s hands gripping his thighs, spreading them apart, forcing him open as if he were nothing but a doll to be played with.

Not with his face buried in the sheets, his breath coming in sharp, humiliated little gasps as he felt everything—the weight pressing him down, the heat sinking into his skin, the ache between his legs that he could not ignore.

Not when M/n’s voice was sinking into his spine like liquid fire.

"Good boy."

Muzan whimpered. The sound slipped past his lips before he could stop it, weak and ruined, his whole body burning with shame.

"See? You pretend to fight me. But your body? Your body knows better."

Muzan bit his lip hard, but it did nothing to stop the way his ck twitched, aching and needy, pressed against the futon as M/n’s fingers skimmed over the soft skin of his inner thighs, teasing him.

"Say it."

Muzan froze. His stomach dropped.

He swallowed, voice raw, heart hammering too hard, too fast.

"Say what?"

M/n chuckled darkly, fingers digging in just hard enough to make Muzan twitch beneath him.

"Say what you are."

Muzan shook his head violently, face burning, breath uneven. "I—"

"Say it."

"Fuck you," Muzan snarled, his voice shaking, trying desperately to keep the last fragile pieces of his dignity intact.

He shouldn’t have said that.

Because the moment the words left his mouth, M/n’s fingers slammed down on his hips, gripping hard, dragging Muzan’s hips up, forcing him onto his hands and knees.

Muzan let out a sharp, choked sound, his body betraying him completely—thighs shaking, arms weak, his cock dripping against the sheets.

He was exposed.

Humiliated.

And the worst part?

He knew M/n was staring.

"Look at you," M/n murmured, dragging his fingers down the curve of Muzan’s ass, making him tense. "You say you hate this. But you’re so—"

A hand suddenly slid down, fingers brushing over Muzan’s twitching hole.

Muzan jerked violently, a strangled, desperate noise escaping his lips.

M/n grinned.

"So desperate. So needy. Like a filthy little slut."

Muzan whimpered, his hands clenching into the sheets, humiliation crashing down on him in thick, unbearable waves.

"Still think you have control, love?"

Muzan’s pride screamed at him to fight, to say something biting and cruel, to claw at whatever dignity he had left—

But then—

A single, slick finger pressed against his tight, twitching hole, circling, teasing—

And Muzan broke.

"P-Please—"

The second the word left his lips, M/n went still.

The room was silent, except for Muzan’s shaky, uneven breathing, his whole body trembling beneath him.

Then—

M/n laughed.

Deep, dark, merciless.

"You really are pathetic."

Muzan shuddered, tears burning at the edges of his eyes, a sharp, humiliating ache spreading through his body as M/n pulled back completely, leaving him empty and untouched.

Muzan’s breath hitched in disbelief. "W-What—"

"You don’t deserve it."

Muzan froze, his entire chest seizing up.

No.

Not this. Not now.

M/n leaned down, his breath hot against Muzan’s ear, his fingers digging into his hips, holding him still.

"You think you can fight me, and still get what you want?"

Muzan’s mind spun, his dick aching, his entire body burning with unsatisfied need. "P-Please—!"

M/n hummed. "Please, what?"

Muzan bit his lip hard, humiliated beyond belief, but his body was too far gone. His pride was shattered.

And so, he whispered—

"P-Please… fuck me…"

M/n grinned, dragging his fingers down Muzan’s spine slowly, making him shudder.

"Oh, sweetheart." M/n’s voice was mocking, but sweet, dripping with dark amusement. "That’s not how this works."

Muzan barely had time to process the words before Reader’s hand cracked across his ass, the sharp smack making him jerk violently, his cock twitching, a wrecked, gasping moan spilling from his lips.

M/n grabbed his neck, tilting his head back slightly.

"You don’t get to beg for my cock when you’ve been a brat all night."

Muzan’s breath shuddered, his eyes glassy, his entire body shaking.

"You’ll take what I give you. Nothing more."

Muzan felt his pride crumble, his whole body on fire, mind swimming in humiliation and unbearable need.

And when M/n’s  fingers finally, finally pressed inside, filling him—

Muzan sobbed.

　　　　　　　　˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The night Muzan turned him, he was certain he was making his greatest weapon.

M/n had always been the only one he could never shake, the only person who could make him feel weak, even as a human.

So he made him first.

Not a test subject. Not an experiment.

His first creation. The first demon.

A gift.

Or at least, that’s what he thought.

But something went terribly wrong.

M/n did not become like the others.

He was not weak to the sun. He did not obey orders. He was not bound to Muzan’s will like the others who came after him.

In fact, it was the opposite.

From the moment M/n opened his eyes as a demon, from the moment he stood before Muzan, something in his very presence made Muzan’s entire being lock up in terror.

The realization hit him like a blade to the throat—

M/n was not his servant.

He was his rival.

No—his captor.

His leash.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

　　　　　　　　˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"You look nervous, love."

Muzan hated that voice.

The mocking amusement. The way it was never afraid, never shaken, never beneath him.

Even now, even after everything, as M/n leaned against the window, golden sunlight spilling over his shoulders, he looked untouched. Untouchable.

Muzan should be the one sitting there.

And yet, he was not.

Instead, he was kneeling.

His breath shaky, his muscles tense, his mind screaming at him to run.

But he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

M/n smirked, tilting his head slightly, watching Muzan with knowing amusement. "What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

Muzan’s throat felt dry.

Because he knew.

He knew exactly what was wrong.

He had tried to chain M/n to him.

And instead, he had forged his own leash.

Muzan had spent centuries avoiding the sun.

But M/n?

M/n bathed in it.

　　　　　　　　˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

He sat in the daylight like it was his birthright, like it had never burned him, like it was mocking Muzan with every golden ray.

It made something inside Muzan curl in fury, in resentment, in humiliation.

But also—

In want.

Because no matter how much he hated it, no matter how much he despised his own weakness, it only made M/n’s power more intoxicating.

Muzan was supposed to be the strongest.

Yet here M/n was—untouchable, unbreakable, immune to the very thing that haunted Muzan’s every waking moment.

He had tried to turn M/n into his, and instead, M/n had become the one being in existence that could never be controlled.

And worst of all?

Muzan loved it.

　　　　　　　　˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"You’re sulking again, love."

Muzan scowled, his fangs bared, but M/n only chuckled, stepping closer, letting his shadow loom over him.

There was affection in it, somewhere. Hidden beneath the cruelty. Beneath the taunts.

Because the truth was—

Muzan was a brat.

And M/n was the only one who knew how to handle him.

"You act like you hate me," M/n mused, leaning in, brushing his lips against Muzan’s ear, his fingers curling beneath his jaw. "And yet, you never run."

Muzan’s breath hitched.

Because he was right.

He never did.

M/n tilted Muzan’s head back, studying him—not with fear, not with submission, but with something that had never changed.

"Tell me, Muzan," he whispered, his voice silken and dark, curling around Muzan’s spine like a snake. "Are you mine?"

Muzan trembled.

His fingers curled into the fabric of M/n’s robes, his pride screaming at him to resist.

But M/n was patient.

He had always been patient.

And so, as M/n’s fingers tightened around his throat, as Muzan’s breath shuddered, as his body betrayed him once again, he finally—

Finally.

Let the words slip past his lips.

"Y-Yes."

M/n’s lips curved into a smirk, his fingers brushing over Muzan’s pulse.

"Good boy."

And just like that—

The Demon King crumbled.

[tsunaso]

I did not expect the zenitsu fic to do so well..

THANK YOU!!!

.😳

REQUEST ARE OPEN !!

[tsunaso]

🔮 — demon slayer

zenitsu agatsuma

“IN A FLASH”

muzan kibutsuji

"EVEN KINGS KNEEL"

[tsunaso]

Hi!!

Could I get Zenitsu from demon slayer that swears he straight start to fall for male reader? Like maybe reader is confident and flirty/make dirty jokes with him but he is so deep in denial that he’s always refusing and stuff until he realizes he’s daydreaming of reader and wanting to go along with it?

Not sure if I’m describing it well, and you’re welcome to take the concept and run with it however you like but I thought bi disaster would be funny and a cute bottom

“IN A FLASH”

pairing. “Straight”!Zenitsu Agatsuma x Top!male reader

synopsis. Zenitsu is 100% straight—or at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. But between your constant flirting, your cocky smirks, and the unwelcome daydreams about being pinned against a wall, he’s starting to lose his mind. And maybe, just maybe… he likes it. — 1.7k

warnings. mdni, nsfw, amab reader, dirty jokes, tiniest bit of power play, first time (with a man), overstimulation, handjob, aftercare

a/n: You did a great job describing what you wanted! Thank you for sending in my first request!

Zenitsu was not in love with you.

Nope. Not a chance. Absolutely not.

It didn’t matter that you were tall, confident, and smirked like you owned the place. It didn’t matter that you rolled up your sleeves during training, your arms a little too toned, a little too veiny for him to not notice. And it especially didn’t matter that you had a habit of leaning in too close, whispering dirty jokes just low enough for only him to hear.

Because Zenitsu?

Zenitsu liked women.

He loved women. Soft hands, long hair, big br—

"Are you blushing?"

The sound of your smooth, teasing voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.

Zenitsu immediately flinched, whipping around to see you grinning down at him, elbow resting on his shoulder.

His stomach flipped.

"No! I—Why would I—?! I AM NOT BLUSHING!"

In his panic, he stumbled backward—tripping over absolutely nothing—and fell flat onto his ass.

You burst out laughing, loud and shameless, crossing your arms as you watched him writhe in his own embarrassment.

"You totally were," you smirked. "What’s the matter? My rugged good looks getting to you?"

Zenitsu felt his entire soul leave his body.

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" He practically threw himself back to his feet, pointing at you in a wild panic. "I AM 100% STRAIGHT, OKAY?! I LOVE WOMEN! BIG BOOBS! SOFT HANDS! LONG HAIR!"

You just raised an eyebrow.

"...Alright, bro. You want a medal or something?"

Zenitsu twitched violently.

This was your fault.

For months, you'd been torturing him.

The casual hand on his shoulder. The way you'd sit too close, your thigh pressed against his. The way your gravelly, stupidly deep voice sounded whenever you murmured some filthy joke into his ear, leaving him to short-circuit in real-time.

He hated it.

He hated you.

He was definitely not going to start thinking about it later.

Absolutely not.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

It started small. Little things.

Like how your voice was kind of deep.

Not too deep—but just enough to make his stomach flip when you said his name.

Or how your hands were huge.

Not that he was paying attention to them. Not that he was imagining how they’d feel gripping his waist, holding his wrists, pinning him—

WAIT, BAD. BAD THOUGHT.

Zenitsu shook his head violently, slapping his own cheeks.

He was just tired. That was all. He needed to train more.

…But training wasn’t exactly helping.

Because lately, you were standing too damn close.

"Need help with your stance?" you murmured from behind him, your chest almost pressed to his back.

Zenitsu froze.

His entire body locked up as your hands brushed over his hips, adjusting him like it was nothing.

Like you weren’t completely ruining his life.

"I—I GOT IT!" he shrieked, flailing away from you like you were on fire. "THANKS, NO NEED TO TOUCH ME, I’M PERFECTLY FINE—!!"

You just blinked at him, amused. "Dude, chill."

Zenitsu was not chilling.

He was losing his fucking mind.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

It got worse.

He started having thoughts.

Thoughts like, "What if he pushed me against a wall?"

Or "What if he held me down?"

Or "What if I just… let him?"

"NOOOOOOO—!!!" Zenitsu bolted upright in bed, screaming into his pillow.

What the hell was that dream?!

WHY WAS IT KINDA GOOD?!!

He buried his face in his hands, rocking back and forth in despair.

"This isn’t happening," he whispered. "I love women. BIG BOOBS. SOFT HANDS. LONG HAIR."

…Your hair didn’t look like a womans, but it always looked kinda nice.

WAIT, NO, STOP—!!!

Zenitsu launched himself out of bed. He needed a distraction. Immediately.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

Zenitsu was determined to prove his 100% absolute heterosexuality.

Which is why, the next morning, he could be found on his knees in front of a random woman, gripping her hands, screaming into the sky.

"HELLO, BEAUTIFUL LADY! HAVE I MENTIONED I LOVE WOMEN?!"

The woman blinked. "…Are you okay?"

"I’M SO OKAY!" Zenitsu laughed, manic and desperate. "SO, SO, SO OKAY! WOMEN ARE BEAUTIFUL! GORGEOUS! PLEASE MARRY ME!"

You watched from a distance, arms crossed, fighting back a smirk.

"He’s been acting weird lately," Tanjiro mumbled beside you.

You chuckled. "Yeah. I noticed."

Zenitsu’s entire body stiffened.

Because your voice—your deep, amused, cocky voice—was right behind him.

He turned slowly, staring up at you with wide, panicked eyes.

"Yo," you grinned.

Zenitsu squeaked.

Just straight-up made a noise like a fucking chew toy and bolted in the opposite direction.

You laughed.

Because oh yeah.

You definitely knew what this was.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

Zenitsu’s back hit the wall, his breath coming in ragged, uneven pants.

His whole body was shaking, his hands gripping at nothing, his legs weak beneath him.

This was your fault.

You were too close.

You had him trapped, one hand flat against the wall beside his head, your strong, calloused fingers gripping his chin, forcing him to look up at you.

He tried to glare.

Tried to resist.

But his face was burning, his eyes were wide and panicked, his chest rising and falling way too fast.

This was wrong.

This was not supposed to happen.

"I—I don’t—” Zenitsu stammered, but his hips twitched forward, betraying him instantly.

You smirked. "Not like what?"

Your voice was too deep, too smooth, too much.

Zenitsu let out a sharp, shaky breath, his fingertips digging into the wall behind him.

"I—I'm not—"

He cut himself off, biting his lip hard, his eyes squeezing shut.

Because if he looked at you any longer, he was going to break.

And then—

You grabbed his chin, tilted his face up, and kissed him.

Zenitsu shattered.

A sharp, wrecked little noise escaped him, somewhere between a whimper and a gasp, his body going stiff—then melting completely.

His hands shot up to grip your shirt, his fingers fisting the fabric so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He didn’t pull away.

He couldn’t.

His whole body was burning, his mind spinning, his lips parting helplessly as you deepened the kiss, teasing, taking your time breaking him apart.

Zenitsu’s legs gave out.

You caught him instantly, one strong arm wrapping around his waist, keeping him pinned against you.

He hated how good it felt.

He hated how easily you overpowered him.

He hated that his dick was aching, twitching, throbbing, already soaked with precum—

But most of all?

He hated how much he loved it.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

Zenitsu didn’t remember how you got him to bed.

All he knew was that he was on his back, his clothes half-off, his skin burning, and your hands were on him.

Too much.

Too good.

Too overwhelming.

His breath was shaky, his legs spread open beneath you, his whole body trembling like a leaf. He should’ve been embarrassed—should’ve pushed you away, should’ve pretended he didn’t want this.

But when you dragged your palm up his inner thigh, tracing over sensitive, untouched skin, his whole body jerked violently, a shocked little whimper spilling from his lips.

His hands shot up to cover his mouth, his fingers pressing against his own lips as if that could stop the noises from escaping.

You smirked.

“Oh? You like that?”

Zenitsu furiously shook his head, eyes blown wide, face burning.

"NO—"

You hummed, dragging your fingers up his trembling stomach, stopping just at the waistband of his underwear.

"You sure?"

Zenitsu bit his lip hard, his whole body twitching in anticipation.

He could feel himself leaking, soaking the fabric, his thighs clenched but trembling, struggling to stay still.

He was too sensitive.

Too needy.

And when you finally hooked your fingers into his waistband and tugged his underwear down—

Zenitsu gasped, his breath catching, his dick twitching against his stomach.

Fuck.

He looked away immediately, his chest rising and falling way too fast.

He couldn’t do this.

He wasn’t supposed to like this.

Then your fingers wrapped around him, slow, teasing, barely applying any pressure.

And Zenitsu cried out.

A sharp, wrecked moan slipped past his lips, his hips jerking forward before he could stop himself.

"S-Shit—"

You chuckled. "You're shaking."

"Sh-Shut up," he whined, his voice cracking, his fingers digging into the sheets.

He was burning up.

He felt too hot, too exposed, too weak.

But it felt good.

Way too fucking good.

Your grip tightened just slightly, your thumb swiping over his leaking tip, and Zenitsu’s whole body twitched.

His breath hitched, a choked moan spilling out.

"I-I—oh fuck—"

You smirked. "Already close?"

"NO—" Zenitsu’s voice cracked, his cheeks burning.

He was not going to cum just from this.

He was not going to embarrass himself like that.

He was not going to—

You leaned down, dragged your tongue over his tip, and Zenitsu screamed.

His fingers fisted the sheets, his whole body seizing up, his dick twitching violently.

And then—

He broke.

"OH—OH FUCK—"

His back arched sharply, his hips bucking up, his breath stuttering, and then he let out a wrecked little sob, cumming way too fast, way too hard.

His chest heaved, his legs shaking, his body completely wrecked beneath you.

You pulled back slightly, grinning down at him.

"That fast?" your voice was low, amused, teasing. "Thought you had more stamina, Thunder Boy."

Zenitsu whined into his hands, his whole body trembling, his mind completely blank.

He should’ve been mortified.

But then—

Your hand wrapped around him again.

And Zenitsu twitched violently.

"H-Hah—w-wait, I just—"

Your grip tightened slightly, stroking him slow, teasing, letting him feel the overstimulation creep in.

Zenitsu gasped, his hips jerking forward weakly, his thighs trembling.

"You're still hard," you murmured, voice silky smooth. "Guess that wasn't enough for you, huh?"

Zenitsu let out a broken little noise, his nails digging into your arms.

He couldn’t handle this.

He was too sensitive.

Too fucking weak.

"B-Be gentle," he whispered, his voice tiny.

You smirked, kissing his heated skin.

"No."

Then you kept going.

And Zenitsu?

Zenitsu didn’t stand a chance.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

Zenitsu refused to let go of you.

His arms were wrapped around your waist, his face buried in your chest, his breath still shaky.

You smirked, running your fingers through his messy hair.

"You okay?"

Zenitsu huffed weakly, his fingers tightening their grip on you.

"I still like girls," he mumbled into your skin. "I just… really like you too."

You chuckled. "Oh yeah?"

Zenitsu whined. "Don’t make me say it again—!"

You grinned. "So you liked it?"

Zenitsu froze.

Then, with a mortified little whimper, he hid his face in your chest.

"D-Don’t say it out loud, idiot!"

You laughed, holding him tighter.

[tsunaso]

Coming into apologize-

I accidentally sent a request for a character you don’t do. Please disregard, I mixed up what fandoms you did

Sorry about that ❤️‍🩹

No need to apologize, I like the concept... who knows, I might write it...

;)

[tsunaso]

“OH MY SWEET SUMMER CHILD”

pairing. Omega!Mikey x Omega!Sanzu x Alpha!male reader

synopsis. karma reduced Sanzu Haruchiyo to nothing and took another omega down with him. — 5.7k words part one.

warnings. mdni, nsfw, amab reader, dead dove, drugging, bitching, degradation, dubcon (due to altered state), dark omegaverse, humiliation, feminization, overstimulation, breeding, knotting, forced submission.

Sanzu didn’t know how much time had passed.

Minutes? Hours? It didn’t matter.

The heat was settling into his bones, wrapping around his spine like a slow, venomous snake. His body felt wrong—too hot, too needy, too fucking weak. He hated it. Hated the way his scent grew richer with every passing second, filling the room with a sickly sweetness that made his stomach turn.

It wasn’t his scent. Not the scent of an alpha.

The realization sent a fresh wave of rage crashing into his ribs, but it was a hollow kind of anger—desperate, useless.

The door creaked open, and Sanzu barely lifted his head before the thick, heavy presence of M/n’s scent filled the room. It should have been oppressive. It should have made Sanzu bristle with defiance.

Instead, it just made his stomach twist.

M/n strolled in leisurely, the smirk on his face downright amused as he took in the pathetic sight before him. “Well, well,” he mused, crouching beside Sanzu. “It’s setting in faster than I expected. You must have had a lot of suppressed omegan traits for it to be hitting this hard.”

Sanzu clenched his jaw, refusing to acknowledge him, but he knew—knew—M/n could hear the way his breathing had changed. Shallow. Unsteady. Desperate.

“Still in denial?” M/n hummed, his voice dropping into something lower, darker. “That’s cute.” He reached forward, barely ghosting his fingers over Sanzu’s jaw.

A violent shudder wracked Sanzu’s body. His own skin felt wrong, hypersensitive in ways he didn’t understand. He wanted to pull away, to snarl, to bite—but the moment M/n’s fingers brushed over his scent glands, his body froze.

Felt good.

No. No, no, no, no.

Sanzu jerked away with a choked noise, his breath coming out uneven. His entire body was trembling, his muscles twitching like he was going to rip himself apart. His scent thickened with frustration, humiliation, and something else—something darker.

M/n clicked his tongue. “Pathetic,” he muttered, standing up. “You should be grateful we’re keeping you. If I let you go now, you’d be torn apart by the first alpha that caught your scent. Maybe that’s what you deserve, though.”

Sanzu’s stomach twisted violently. His instincts recoiled at the thought—exposed, helpless, left to fend for himself in a world where he was nothing.

No pack. No status. No protection.

He needed—

Sanzu stopped breathing for a second.

He needed protection.

His body was crying for it, his instincts clawing at his mind, screaming at him to find someone stronger to keep him safe. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood, but it didn’t matter—the panic was already setting in.

He needed—

The door opened again.

A sharp, unmistakable scent flooded the room, cutting through the haze in Sanzu’s mind like a blade.

Omega.

But not just any omega.

Him.

Sanzu’s body reacted before his mind even caught up. His scent spiked—needy, desperate, craving.

Fucking disgusting.

He felt bile rise in his throat, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the unbearable pull in his gut. The part of his mind still clinging to reason was screaming—raging against the betrayal of his own body, but it was already too late.

Because the omega had already noticed.

He stepped into the room without hesitation, his black eyes locking onto Sanzu with something close to boredom. His scent was sharp, unwavering, and infinitely stronger than what Sanzu remembered from that alleyway.

And Sanzu—

Sanzu leaned toward him.

It was so fucking small—just a shift in posture, the way his breath caught slightly in his throat—but it was enough.

The omega’s lips curled. “Are you serious?”

Sanzu swallowed thickly, his throat too dry, too tight. He wanted to say something, anything, but his body was moving on its own, drawn toward the closest source of comfort.

The omega took a step forward. Sanzu flinched.

Not from fear.

From restraint.

From the unbearable, crawling need under his skin.

A sharp scoff cut through the thick air. “That’s fucking disgusting,” the omega muttered, his voice filled with pure, unfiltered disgust.

Sanzu trembled violently. His breath stuttered, his scent betraying him even more, turning unbearably needy. He wanted to scream, wanted to rip off his own skin, wanted to run—but he couldn’t.

His body was begging.

And the omega could smell it.

M/n chuckled darkly from the doorway. “Ah… seems like he’s really starting to feel it now.”

The omega barely acknowledged him, his gaze still pinned on Sanzu like he was something rotten stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

Sanzu wanted to hate him. Wanted to spit in his face, snarl, demand that he wipe that fucking look off his—

But all he could do was stare, trembling, desperate, as his body betrayed him more and more with every second.

The omega sighed, voice thick with irritation. “What a waste,” he muttered. Then, after a moment, he tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing.

“…Does he even know my name?”

Sanzu stiffened.

A slow, cruel smirk spread across M/n’s lips. “Oh,” he exhaled, amusement flickering in his voice. “He really doesn’t, does he?”

Sanzu’s stomach dropped.

The omega—the omega he had tried to take—stepped closer, just enough that Sanzu could feel the ghost of his pheromones press against his skin. He crouched down, leveling Sanzu with a blank stare.

“You really don’t know?” he murmured.

Sanzu’s mouth went dry.

The omega’s expression barely shifted, but something in his gaze sharpened.

“Sano Manjiro,” he said flatly. “But you—” His lips twitched up in a cruel, humorless smirk.

“You can call me Mikey.”

Sanzu’s heart pounded in his chest.

Mikey.

That name—he knew that name.

The second in command of Bonten. The most dangerous omega in the city. The untouchable king of the underworld.

The one fucking omega he should have never, ever laid his hands on.

Mikey stood up, rolling his shoulders like this conversation had already bored him.

“Keep him,” he muttered to M/n, already turning away. “I don’t care.”

The door shut behind him, and just like that—his presence was gone.

Sanzu barely heard M/n’s chuckle, low and dark in the back of his throat.

“Well,” M/n hummed, stepping closer, reaching down to cup Sanzu’s trembling jaw.

“Now you know.”

　　　　　　　　· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Sanzu was losing.

His body was drenched in sweat, slick and trembling, heat curling through every inch of him like a wildfire he couldn’t put out. His breathing was ragged, uneven, little whimpering noises slipping from his throat no matter how hard he tried to choke them back.

Everything hurt—his stomach ached, his thighs shook, his hole clenched around nothing, desperate for relief that wouldn’t come.

It was so wrong—so fucking wrong—and yet, no matter how hard he fought it, his body was needy in ways he couldn’t ignore.

His pussy—no, not pussy, not that—his hole was aching, fluttering open and empty, making his hips twitch against the mattress.

And worse?

His dick—his useless, pitiful dick—was soft.

No knot. No hardness. Just a sad little thing, sticky with leaking slick, resting against his stomach, completely ignored by his own heat.

His body wasn’t asking to be fucked like an alpha. It wasn’t even acknowledging that part of him anymore.

It was begging to be bred.

Sanzu bit his lip so hard it split, blood mixing with the embarrassing, syrupy sweet scent pouring off him. His thighs pressed together, trying to rub some kind of friction against his swollen, puffy entrance, but it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

The door creaked open, and Sanzu’s entire body froze.

A thick, powerful scent flooded the room—alpha.

His body reacted immediately, thighs tensing, hole fluttering pathetically. His head snapped up, and through the feverish haze clouding his mind, he registered M/n standing in the doorway, watching him with pure amusement.

“Tch.”

M/n stepped forward slowly, hands tucked in his pockets, completely unbothered by the thick, humiliating scent in the room. His sharp gaze flicked lazily over Sanzu’s wrecked form—his sweat-drenched skin, the way his legs shook, the pathetic mess of slick and shame pooling beneath him.

His lips curled.

“Look at you.”

Sanzu trembled.

M/n crouched beside him, resting an elbow on his knee, tilting his head. “What happened to all that attitude, hm?” he murmured, voice low, mocking. “You were barking so loud before. Now look at you—”

His eyes flickered lower, to Sanzu’s shamefully soft dick.

A slow, wicked smirk spread across M/n’s face.

“…Well. That’s disappointing.”

Sanzu’s stomach twisted into knots.

M/n reached out, gripping his chin, forcing Sanzu’s dazed, glassy eyes to meet his own. “Not even hard?” he murmured. His thumb ghosted over Sanzu’s lower lip, pressing down slightly, smirking when Sanzu’s mouth parted automatically.

“So useless.”

Sanzu let out a shaky breath, his fingers digging into the sheets. His entire body was burning, every nerve screaming for relief, but the humiliation coiling in his stomach was just as unbearable.

M/n hummed, tilting his head slightly. “I wonder…”

His free hand drifted lower, over the curve of Sanzu’s waist, his soft, pathetic belly, down to his thighs, which tensed beneath his touch.

Sanzu stiffened.

No. No, no—

But M/n ignored him, pushing his thighs apart effortlessly, exposing the soaked, puffy mess between his legs.

Sanzu whimpered.

“Awww,” M/n cooed, mocking, watching the way Sanzu’s slick dripped down onto the sheets. “All swollen and puffy. Poor thing. No wonder you’re suffering so much.”

His fingers ghosted over the sensitive, twitching entrance, making Sanzu’s entire body jerk violently. A choked, humiliating little gasp escaped him, before he could even stop it.

M/n’s smirk widened.

“Sensitive, aren’t we?”

Sanzu’s chest heaved, his thighs twitching, trying to press back together, but M/n’s grip on him was iron-strong.

The worst part?

His hole fluttered, clenching around nothing, desperately sucking in the air, trying to get something—anything inside.

M/n chuckled.

His fingers dragged lower, tracing the slick-drenched, swollen mess between Sanzu’s legs, his touch so light it made Sanzu’s breath hitch violently.

“Such a cute little pussy.”

Sanzu’s eyes went wide.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

“No,” he rasped, shaking his head, voice wrecked, barely there. “No, I—”

But M/n tapped a finger against his twitching, leaking hole, and whatever Sanzu was about to say vanished in a broken, needy little sob.

His body betrayed him.

M/n grinned.

“Ohhh,” he exhaled, mocking delight dripping from his voice. “You like that?” He pressed a little firmer, watching the way Sanzu’s entrance fluttered around the touch, how his body instinctively tried to take him in.

Sanzu’s breathing stuttered.

Tears burned at the corners of his eyes.

M/n leaned in, voice dropping to a low purr.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Say it.”

Sanzu shook his head, lips parted, breath coming in ragged little pants.

M/n’s smirk turned ruthless.

His thumb dragged down, slick gathering on his fingers, pressing just barely against Sanzu’s puffy, twitching pussy, pushing in just enough to make Sanzu’s entire body jerk violently.

A sharp, broken cry ripped from his throat.

M/n hummed, amused.

“There we go,” he murmured. “Just like a good little omega.”

Sanzu’s chest heaved, his entire body trembling as the heat twisted deeper, spreading through his veins like molten lava. His fingers dug into the sheets, his thighs quivering, still trying—weakly, uselessly—to press together, to hide himself from the hungry, amused gaze drinking him in.

But M/n wouldn’t let him.

“You’re still fighting?” M/n mused, tilting his head, his thumb dragging slow, lazy circles against the puffy, leaking mess between Sanzu’s legs.

Sanzu twitched violently, a humiliating, sharp gasp tearing from his throat.

It was too much.

The heat had already wrecked him, stripped him of everything, made his body hypersensitive—and now M/n was toying with him, pushing against the swollen, fluttering entrance just enough to make Sanzu’s instincts claw at his mind.

His body knew what it needed.

It was begging for it.

But M/n wasn’t giving it to him.

Not yet.

Sanzu bit down on his lip, his vision blurry, heat pooling low and deep in his gut. He wanted to scream, wanted to curse and fight, but the moment M/n pressed his fingers in a little deeper, a broken little sob escaped him instead.

M/n grinned.

“There we go,” he murmured, voice sickly sweet, mocking. “I knew you’d sound cute when you finally stopped pretending.”

Sanzu whimpered, hips jerking forward against his will, chasing more, desperate, needy—

M/n’s fingers vanished.

A sharp cry ripped from Sanzu’s throat, his body arching off the bed, his hole clenching around nothing, sucking in the empty air.

M/n laughed.

“Awww,” he cooed, reaching out to cup Sanzu’s jaw, tilting his flushed, tear-streaked face up toward him. “Poor little thing. Did you want something?”

Sanzu’s lips parted, breath hitching, his entire body burning. His scent spiked, thick with helpless, desperate need.

But he still wouldn’t say it.

M/n sighed, shaking his head, disappointed. “Still acting tough?”

Sanzu shuddered.

Then—

A sharp slap landed against his inner thigh, stinging, making him flinch and jerk.

M/n’s tone darkened.

“Say it.”

Sanzu’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his pulse pounding in his ears. His pride was dangling by a thread, fragile, barely holding on—

M/n’s fingers dragged lower again, teasing over the slick, messy folds, his thumb pressing against the sensitive, twitching entrance.

Sanzu gasped, thighs trembling, his body trying to sink down onto it.

But M/n still wouldn’t give it to him.

“Beg.”

Sanzu whimpered, fingers clenching into the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. His mouth opened, but no words came out, just ragged little breaths, humiliated, broken noises.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Another sharp slap to his inner thigh made him jolt violently, and M/n grabbed his chin again, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Be a good girl,” M/n murmured, his smirk widening, voice dripping with cruel amusement. “Tell me what you need.”

Sanzu’s vision blurred. His body ached, twitched, desperation clawing at his mind. His heat was devouring him, instincts screaming, pleading, demanding—

The words ripped from his throat before he could stop them.

“Please.”

M/n’s eyes gleamed.

Sanzu shuddered, tears spilling down his flushed cheeks, humiliation burning through him hotter than the heat itself.

M/n hummed, dragging his fingers lazily over Sanzu’s needy, dripping hole, making him whimper, squirm, gasp.

“Please what?”

Sanzu bit his lip, his throat tight, chest heaving. He couldn’t say it.

But his body was screaming it for him.

M/n sighed in mock sympathy. “Such a dumb little thing.”

Then—

His fingers pushed inside.

Sanzu gasped, his entire body arching off the mattress, a sharp, wrecked moan tearing from his throat.

It felt too good.

The stretch, the fullness, the way M/n’s fingers curled just right, pressing against something deep inside him, making his hole clench down, sucking his fingers deeper.

His useless, pathetic d*ck twitched against his stomach, leaking slick and precum, but still—still—not even half-hard.

His body had no use for it.

Only his soft, soaking-wet pussy mattered now.

M/n groaned, watching the way Sanzu’s swollen entrance clenched greedily around his fingers. “Ohhh, you were made for this.”

Sanzu let out a pitiful little whimper, his entire body trembling, his hips rolling down into the touch, chasing more, more, more—

M/n’s fingers slid out.

Sanzu sobbed.

“No,” he choked out, his hole clenching around nothing, slick dripping down his thighs, making a mess of the sheets beneath him. “No, no, please—”

M/n chuckled, his fingers coated in slick, watching the ruined, broken mess before him.

“Look at you,” he murmured, amused. “So desperate. So empty.”

Sanzu’s entire body shuddered.

M/n shifted, undoing his belt, pulling his pants down just enough to free his aching, heavy cock, already slick with precum, flushed, throbbing.

Sanzu’s breath hitched.

M/n’s fingers curled around his soft, dripping pussy, giving it a slow, teasing rub, making Sanzu cry out, his hips jerking forward.

“Want me to fill you up, sweetheart?” M/n murmured, mocking, taunting, rubbing his thick, leaking tip against the sensitive, twitching hole.

Sanzu nodded weakly, panting, lost, his body begging for it.

M/n’s smirk widened.

“Use your words.”

Sanzu’s breath came out in a ragged sob.

“Please, Alpha—”

M/n’s hands gripped his thighs, spreading him wider, holding him open and exposed.

Then—

He thrust in.

Sanzu’s back arched off the mattress, his entire body seizing, a sharp, broken scream ripping from his throat as his aching, swollen pussy was finally, finally filled.

It was too much.

It was perfect.

M/n groaned. “Oh, you were made for this.”

Then, he started moving.

Sanzu screamed.

It was too much—too deep, too good, the stretch burning hot and perfect as M/n’s cock forced him open, shoving inside with a single, brutal thrust.

His pussy clenched down immediately, desperate, needy, sucking M/n’s cock deeper, like his body knew exactly what it was made for.

Sanzu’s thighs trembled, his breath stuttering into a wrecked sob, and when M/n pulled back, only to slam in again, even harder, his body arched violently off the bed.

“Ohhh,” M/n groaned, hands gripping Sanzu’s hips hard enough to bruise, holding him still, pinned, completely at his mercy. “So fucking tight.”

Sanzu let out a broken whimper, his hands scrabbling at the sheets, his mind fogged and empty, drowned beneath the overwhelming, unbearable pleasure.

His useless little dick was still soft, twitching against his stomach, dripping helpless little beads of slick and precum—completely forgotten.

His body didn’t care about it anymore.

His body only wanted cock.

M/n’s hands slid up, gripping Sanzu’s waist, before he slammed him down onto his length, forcing him to take it all.

Sanzu screamed.

A sharp, wet slap echoed in the room as M/n’s hips smacked against Sanzu’s, stuffing him full, over and over, his pussy gushing slick, making a mess of both of them.

“Fuck,” M/n grunted, forcing Sanzu’s legs wider, watching his puffy, swollen little hole stretch around his thick length, sucking him deeper with every thrust.

“You like this, huh?” M/n mocked, snapping his hips forward, watching the way Sanzu cried out, his breath ragged, gasping, desperate. “This cute little pussy was made to be fucked, wasn’t it?”

Sanzu shook his head weakly, whimpering, but his body betrayed him completely.

His hips rolled back automatically, chasing each thrust, his insides clenching down, begging to be filled, bred, ruined.

M/n laughed.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice dripping with pure amusement, watching the way Sanzu’s hole clenched greedily, slick dripping between his thighs.

“You’re just a fcking pussy now, aren’t you?”

Sanzu let out a choked sob, humiliation burning through him, but he couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop taking it.

Couldn’t stop wanting it.

Couldn’t stop needing it.

M/n grinned, leaning down, his breath hot against Sanzu’s ear.

“Say it.”

Sanzu’s breath hitched violently, his body shuddering, overwhelmed, his vision blurred with tears.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

But then—

M/n’s fingers slid down, rubbing over his slick, swollen little dick, sending a white-hot spark of pleasure straight through him.

Sanzu screamed.

His entire body jerked violently, his pussy squeezing around M/n’s cock, soaking both of them in even more slick.

M/n chuckled, low and dark, his pace picking up, fucking into Sanzu even harder.

“Say it,” he growled, gripping his throat, his other hand still toying with Sanzu’s soaked little dick, stroking it in tight, warm palm.

Sanzu’s mind broke.

“I’m just a pussy!” he sobbed, screaming it, his body convulsing, drowning in mindless, unbearable pleasure.

“Good girl.”

M/n slammed into him one final time, shoving his cock as far as it could go with out catching on his knot, holding him there as his release spilled inside, filling Sanzu with hot, thick cum.

Sanzu let out a wrecked, broken moan, his back arching, his entire body shuddering violently as his own release ripped through him.

His pussy clamped down hard, milking M/n’s cock, desperate to be bred, his heat finally satisfied.

For now.

M/n pulled back slightly, watching as his cum dripped out, running down Sanzu’s thighs, pooling on the ruined sheets.

Sanzu was wrecked.

His breath came in ragged, choked sobs, his thighs twitching violently, his entire body overheated, soaked, ruined. His puffy, abused little hole was still fluttering, gaping, leaking M/n’s cum onto the sheets beneath him, his body still crying for more.

But his heat wasn’t over.

His instincts weren’t satisfied.

His pathetic little clit—his soft, useless excuse of a dick—twitched against his stomach, dripping slick, ignored, forgotten, completely useless to the heat wracking his body.

And then—

A new scent flooded the room.

Sharp. Cold. Omega.

Mikey.

Sanzu’s entire body tensed violently, his breath catching, his dazed, glassy eyes barely able to focus as he turned his head.

Mikey stood in the doorway, his dark, empty eyes dragging over Sanzu’s ruined form, his lips curling into a slow, disgusted smirk.

“Still in heat?”

Sanzu shuddered, a fresh wave of humiliation burning through him.

Because Mikey was right.

His body was still aching.

Still needy.

Still empty.

And Mikey could smell it.

M/n hummed, casual, lazy, watching as Mikey stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, his scent curling around Sanzu like a noose.

“I was wondering when you’d give in,” M/n murmured, tilting his head. “Figured you’d be too disgusted to touch him.”

Mikey’s smirk widened. “I am disgusted.”

His sharp gaze dropped to Sanzu’s trembling, slick-drenched thighs, his ruined little clit twitching uselessly, and a low, mocking chuckle slipped from his lips.

“But he’s already dripping for me, isn’t he?”

Sanzu let out a soft, broken noise, his shame and desperation mixing into something unbearable.

Mikey stepped closer, the mattress dipping as he crawled over Sanzu’s body. At some point Mikey must off taken off his clothes because Mikey was pressing down against him, his own useless dick rubbing against Sanzu’s stomach, leaking precum.

Sanzu’s entire body tensed violently at the skin-on-skin contact, his instincts screaming at him to submit.

Mikey’s lips brushed against his ear, his voice a cold whisper.

“Little bitch,” he murmured.

Then—

His teeth sank into Sanzu’s scent gland.

Sanzu screamed.

His whole body arched off the bed, his clit twitching violently, slick gushing out of him, his heat kicking up even stronger as Mikey’s dominant omega scent poured into him.

Mikey licked over the bite slowly, savoring Sanzu’s pathetic little sobs.

“You’re so fcking weak,” he whispered, his hand dragging down Sanzu’s trembling stomach, his fingers ghosting over his pathetic, useless little clit.

Sanzu flinched violently, letting out a wrecked little whimper, because Mikey was touching it like it was a real pussy.

Mikey grinned.

“Awww,” he cooed, mocking, rubbing his fingers over the soft, twitching flesh, watching Sanzu’s entire body jerk uncontrollably.

“Look at this cute little clit.”

Sanzu sobbed.

Mikey’s fingers pinched it, rolled it between his fingers, rubbing tight little circles, and Sanzu’s breath hitched violently, his legs trembling as his body reacted against his will.

“Doesn’t even get hard anymore, does it?” Mikey murmured, his voice pure condescension.

Sanzu whimpered, shaking his head weakly, his body fighting him, his hips rolling into Mikey’s touch despite himself.

“Poor thing,” Mikey purred. “Bet it feels even better when I play with this messy little pussy, huh?”

His fingers dragged lower, teasing Sanzu’s drenched fluttering little hole, and Sanzu sobbed, his thighs twitching open even wider.

“Such a cute little thing,” Mikey whispered, mocking, taunting, pressing a single finger inside, watching Sanzu’s wrecked expression twist in unbearable pleasure.

Then—

M/n grabbed Mikey’s chin, yanking him up.

The omega snarled, but M/n just smirked.

“You’re awfully worked up for someone who wasn’t interested,” M/n murmured, his fingers dragging over Mikey’s entrance, rubbing over his slick-drenched hole.

Mikey’s breath hitched.

A sharp, violent shudder ran down his spine, his thighs twitching, pressing together instinctively, but M/n’s hand was already there, keeping them spread wide.

“Fuck off,” Mikey snapped, voice low, biting—but it wasn’t as sharp as it should’ve been.

Because his scent was changing.

It was subtle at first—just the slightest shift, something thicker, sweeter, mixing with the overpowering heat-heavy scent already filling the room.

M/n inhaled deeply, his grin widening.

“Ohhh,” he exhaled, his thumb brushing over Mikey’s slick entrance, feeling the way it fluttered under his touch.

“You’re feeling it now, aren’t you?”

Mikey tensed violently.

Because he was.

It had started the moment he walked into the room. The moment Sanzu’s ruined, heat-heavy scent hit him, the moment M/n’s thick alpha pheromones wrapped around him like a noose.

His body had reacted instantly.

He’d felt the tug in his gut, the slow, creeping burn pooling low in his stomach, the way his own slick started leaking out of him before he could even process it.

Sympathy heat.

He wasn’t even in his own cycle—his body was just responding to the scent of another omega in distress, to the dominant alpha presence pressing down on him.

It was natural. Instinctive.

And completely fucking disgusting.

Mikey clenched his teeth, his thighs trembling, his body fighting itself—but it was too late.

M/n chuckled darkly.

“You walked in here thinking you were better than him,” he mused, pressing his fingers against Mikey’s twitching, slick hole, watching the way it clenched down, desperate for something to fill it.

Mikey let out a sharp breath, his back arching slightly, his useless little dick twitching against his stomach.

M/n leaned in, his lips brushing against Mikey’s flushed, overheated ear.

“But now you’re just as bad,” he whispered.

Then—

He pushed a finger inside.

Mikey gasped, violently, his entire body jerking, his hole clenching down tight around M/n’s finger, sucking it deeper.

Sanzu watched.

Watched the omega who had mocked him, who had called him pathetic, who had looked at him with nothing but disgust—

Now writhing, panting, falling apart just as fast.

The realization sent a fresh pulse of slick out of Sanzu’s swollen, puffy little pussy, his thighs shaking, his own heat spiking again.

Mikey bit his lip hard, his breath ragged, his fingers gripping the sheets beneath him.

“Still trying to act tough?” M/n mocked, crooking his finger, pressing against that deep, sensitive spot inside.

Mikey let out a sharp, wrecked noise, his hips jerking forward, chasing the touch against his will.

Sanzu shuddered.

Because he recognized it.

That exact moment.

The moment when your body stopped listening to you.

When instincts took over completely.

M/n grinned.

“There it is.”

Mikey let out a ragged breath, his thighs twitching, his hole clenching hard around M/n’s fingers.

M/n leaned in, voice low, teasing.

“Do you get it now?”

Mikey trembled.

M/n dragged his fingers out slowly, leaving Mikey’s wet, clenching hole twitching around nothing, before pressing his slick-coated fingers against Sanzu’s entrance instead.

Sanzu gasped, his entire body arching, his soft, dripping little clit twitching uselessly against his stomach.

Mikey watched.

Watched as Sanzu’s puffy little pussy clenched around M/n’s fingers, his pretty little hole sucking them in greedily, instinctively.

Watched as Sanzu sobbed, wrecked, broken, completely lost in heat.

Watched as his own body reacted.

Slick dripped down his thighs, his entrance fluttering, aching, needing.

M/n smirked, watching both of them now.

“Two desperate little omegas,” he murmured, dragging Sanzu closer, grinding his slick-drenched pussy against Mikey’s dripping dick.

The contact was electric.

Both omegas let out a sharp, broken moan, their bodies trembling, reacting, needing more.

“Aw, fuck,” M/n chuckled, watching them twitch and whimper, their little cocks rubbing together, leaking slick.

“You’re both fucking ruined, aren’t you?”

Mikey growled weakly, trying to pull away—but the moment he moved, his dick dragged against Sanzu’s swollen pussy again, sending a sharp, violent pulse of heat through both of them.

Sanzu sobbed.

Mikey gasped, eyes wide, breath ragged.

M/n groaned, gripping Mikey’s hips, his hands strong, bruising, keeping him still.

M/n lined himself up.

Pressed the thick, leaking tip of his cock against Mikey’s twitching little hole.

Mikey’s breath caught.

He tensed.

M/n leaned in, voice low, rough, cruel.

“Since you think you’re so much better than him…”

Then—

He thrust in.

Mikey screamed.

His back arched violently, his hole clenching down around M/n’s cock, trying to suck him deeper, his heat finally, fully taking over.

M/n let out a low, satisfied groan, burying himself to the hilt, feeling Mikey’s tight, desperate little hole twitch and squeeze around him.

Sanzu watched, shaking, helpless.

Watched the strongest omega he knew finally submit.

And M/n?

M/n just grinned, grabbing Sanzu by the waist, forcing him forward, pressing their bodies together.

“Now,” he murmured, dragging his thick, hard cck out of Mikey’s soaked hole, lining himself up with Sanzu’s ruined, twitching pssy instead.

“Let’s see which one of you can take me better.”

Then—

He f*cked them both.

And neither omega stood a chance.

Sanzu’s wrecked little pussy clenched down greedily as M/n’s thick cock slammed into him, shoving him forward onto Mikey, their sweaty, slick-drenched bodies grinding together, their soft, useless little dicks rubbing with every brutal thrust.

Mikey’s mouth fell open, a wrecked, choked moan spilling out, his entrance fluttering pathetically, still slick with M/n’s release from the first round.

And now—

Now, he had Sanzu’s heat-soaked body pinned against him, rubbing against his aching, twitching, desperate little hole.

“You two are so f*cking filthy,” M/n groaned, his grip bruising as he slammed into Sanzu harder, faster, forcing the other omega’s body to grind against Mikey’s.

Sanzu sobbed, whimpering, broken, his legs shaking violently, his hole so swollen and abused it could barely hold M/n’s thick length inside.

But his body refused to let go.

Every thrust forced slick out of him, drenching both omegas in his heat-drunk mess.

Mikey hissed, his own body reacting, his entrance clenching, his hips bucking forward to meet the friction.

M/n grinned.

“Awww,” he mocked, watching Mikey’s wrecked expression twist in unbearable pleasure. “I thought you hated him?”

Mikey’s breath hitched violently.

M/n dragged Sanzu off his cock, watching his swollen, puffy little pussy clench around nothing, his slick dripping onto the sheets.

Sanzu whined loudly, his entire body jerking forward, desperate, needy, lost.

And just as quickly—

M/n shoved into Mikey instead.

Mikey cried out, his back arching, his hole stretching wide, swallowing M/n’s cock so deep his entire body shook.

Sanzu watched helplessly, watched as M/n buried himself to the hilt, stuffing Mikey full in one sharp thrust, watched as Mikey let out the most wrecked little whimper, his slick gushing around the thick length inside him.

“Alpha—” Mikey choked, voice wrecked, humiliated, needy.

M/n’s grin widened.

“Ohhh, you’re calling me Alpha now?” he taunted, grabbing Mikey’s throat, forcing him to look up.

Mikey’s legs twitched violently, his face flushed, his breathing ragged.

M/n fucked into him harder, dragging another broken moan from the smaller omega’s throat.

Sanzu whimpered, his thighs clenching together, his own pussy throbbing, aching, his slick-covered clit twitching against his stomach.

“Look at you,” M/n murmured, watching as both omegas trembled beneath him, their bodies writhing, leaking, begging for more.

He reached down, gripping both of their chins, forcing them to look up at him.

“You’re both nothing but little cock-drunk whores now, huh?”

Sanzu sobbed, his body too far gone, his heat too overwhelming, his mind too ruined to do anything but nod.

Mikey squeezed his eyes shut, his lips trembling—but his body betrayed him too.

Because he nodded just the same.

M/n groaned, dragging himself out of Mikey, grabbing Sanzu, shoving back into his soaked little pussy instead, watching as the pink-haired omega collapsed backward, his entire body trembling, shaking, his pussy fluttering, welcoming every brutal thrust.

Mikey was panting heavily, his hole clenching around nothing, his body aching for more.

M/n smirked. “See, Mikey?”

He reached down, grabbing Mikey’s hips, lifting him slightly, positioning him over Sanzu’s heat-soaked body.

“Since you’re both so desperate, why don’t you fuck each other for me?”

Mikey’s breath stuttered.

Sanzu let out a wrecked, soft little sob, his body already moving on instinct, his hips rolling upward, rubbing against Mikey’s swollen, slick hole.

Both omegas gasped.

Mikey twitched violently, his fingers digging into Sanzu’s skin, his heat-soaked body grinding down automatically.

Slick poured out of them both, mixing together, making a disgusting, messy pool beneath them.

M/n groaned at the sight, gripping both of their waists, forcing them to grind harder.

“Fuck, look at you two,” he muttered, watching as they writhed together, slick-drunk and heat-crazed, rubbing their little pssies against each other, whimpering, gasping, too lost in need to care about anything else.

“You were supposed to hate each other,” he chuckled, his fingers digging in, keeping them moving, making them chase the pleasure.

“But now you’re nothing but my desperate little omega toys.”

Mikey let out a wrecked moan, his body shaking violently, his hole clenching down around nothing, his heat consuming him.

Sanzu was already gone, too deep in submissive omega bliss, his thighs trembling, his slick-covered clit twitching, completely, utterly broken.

M/n groaned.

“Since you both worked so hard—”

He grabbed Mikey, slamming him back down onto his cock.

Mikey screamed, his entire body arching, his hole sucking M/n’s length so deep his stomach bulged slightly.

Sanzu watched, panting, twitching, his own pussy clenching around nothing, jealous, needy, wrecked.

M/n fucked into Mikey harder, his pace brutal, merciless, making the omega collapse forward onto Sanzu’s chest.

Sanzu could feel the way Mikey trembled, the way his body shook, could feel the overwhelming heat radiating off of him.

And then—

M/n slammed in deep, biting down on Mikey’s scent gland, filling him, stuffing him full of thick, hot cum.

Mikey screamed, wrecked, mindless.

His hole clenched around M/n’s knot, locking him in place, milking him, his own release spilling out of him, mixing with the slick covering both omegas.

And then—

Sanzu whimpered.

Still empty.

Still aching.

Still needing.

M/n grinned, looking down at his ruined little omegas.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, dragging his fingers through Sanzu’s dripping slick.

“You’re next.”

And Sanzu?

Sanzu knew—

He would never escape this.

And worse?

He didn’t want to.

[tsunaso]

Hi! Do you take fic requests??

I do! Check my rules, its on the pinned post.

[tsunaso]

obito fic was so good i feel blessed 🙏 (read it as soon as I woke up cuz it appeared in my feed)

I'm glad you enjoyed it! I wanted a what if Obito wasn't picked up by Madara but by someone with a little less morals... and here we are!

:D

[tsunaso]

Please !! REQUEST ARE OPEN !!!!!

Hi I'm literally just going through a list of prompts. Please send in asks. I'm awkward and I'm not really sure how to connect with an audience. I've actually never posted my work before. I don't even know how to end this. I would love to hear other people's thoughts, ideas and imagines, so please stop by!

[tsunaso]

🍶— naruto

obito uchiha

"I'D LET THE WORLD BURN"

[tsunaso]

"I'D LET THE WORLD BURN"

pairing. Obito Uchiha x Top!Missing-nin!male reader

synopsis. in where obito is saved but by the wrong hands. — 3.5k

warnings. mdni, nsfw, rough sex, amab reader, aged up obito (the kannabi bridge incident happens when he is 18), dead dove, gore, physical and emotional abuse, manipulation, toxic dependency, dubcon undertones, exploitation of trauma, dark themes.

The acrid scent of blood and burnt wood hung heavy in the air as M/n knelt by the crumpled body. The boy was a mess—his dark hair matted with dirt and blood, his skin bruised and pale.

One leg was crushed beneath the rubble, the jagged bone peaking out of the skin of whatever remained. The fleshy tethers barely holding together as the wound sluggishly oozed blood.

It was clear to M/n that he wouldn’t be able to save the leg.

The boy on the other hand barely clinging to life yet—he was still conscious. He was mouthing words that M/n couldn’t make out but they sounded like names–Rin, Kakashi, Sensei.

M/n wondered who these people were to the boy as he stabilized him and whisked him away.

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His body was betraying him—his ears rang, breathing felt like knives, and his body oddly enough, felt numb. Is this what it felt like to die?

No—not yet.

He promised them that he would catch up, that he would surpass Kakashi, so he can’t give up. But his body is betraying him—giving up.

His vision is becoming cloudy, when suddenly he feels relief. He sees the figure of a person and he can’t help but think that Rin and Kakashi had come back for him— they even brought sensei!

With that thought he completely falls into unconsciousness.

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When he awoke, it wasn’t the cold of death or the warmth of his team by his bedside that greeted him. Instead, it was the subtle chill, that flowed from a nearby open window.

A flickering fire cast shadows on the walls of the small cabin, its light catching on the smooth walls. He tried to sit up, but pain shot up through his chest and down to his leg, forcing him back down with a sharp gasp.

“Don’t move,” a voice said, calm but firm.

Obito’s gaze snapped to the source. A man knelt by his side, his face partially hidden by the shadows. His presence was commanding, the kind that demanded attention without needing to ask for it.

The man’s hands moved with practiced ease as he adjusted the bandages around Obito’s chest, his touch surprisingly gentle.

“You’re lucky I found you when I did,” the man continued, his tone almost conversational. “A few more minutes, and you’d have bled out in the mud. Hell of a way to go.”

“Who… who are you?” Obito rasped, his throat dry and voice barely audible.

The man paused, tilting a cup of cool water to Obito’s lips— he opened his mouth before he could even think of checking for poison, the water soothed his achingly dry throat.

His dark eyes met Obito’s as he put down the cup on a nearby dresser. There was something unreadable in his gaze, something that made Obito’s stomach twist.

“Just someone passing through,” he said after a moment, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Call me M/n.”

“M/n…” Obito repeated, his voice cracking.

“Rest now,” M/n said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder when Obito tried to push himself up again. “You’re in no shape to do anything reckless. I’ve already stitched up that leg of yours, but if you move wrong, you’ll tear it open again.”

Obito’s gaze flicked to his leg, and his breath hitched at the sight of the crude splint and thick bandages wrapped around the stump where his lower leg used to be, it was gone from the mid-thigh. Panic clawed at his chest, his mind spinning as he remembered the boulder, the pain, the crushing weight that had pinned him—

“Hey.” M/n’s voice cut through the spiral, his hand gripping Obito’s shoulder more firmly. “Breathe. You’re alive. That’s all that matters right now.”

The words, though simple, anchored him. He inhaled shakily, forcing his mind to quiet, and nodded.

　　　　　　　　　══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Over the next few weeks, M/n tended to Obito’s injuries with a patience that bordered on tenderness.

He hunted, cooked, and even shared what little he had without complaint, though his sharp, calculating eyes always seemed to watch Obito too closely.

“You’re strong,” M/n said one evening, his voice breaking the quiet. He was crouched by a fire outside of the cabin, sharpening a blade as the light danced across his features. “Most people wouldn’t have survived what happened to you. But you did.”

Obito glanced at him, his expression guarded. He was still wary of this stranger, but he couldn’t deny that M/n had saved him. He owed him his life.

“I had to,” Obito muttered, his gaze falling to the fire. “Rin and Kakashi… they need me.”

M/n’s hand stilled, his blade catching the light as he looked at Obito. “Do they?”

Obito frowned, confusion flickering across his face. “Of course they do. They’re my teammates.”

M/n hummed thoughtfully, his gaze returning to the blade in his hands. “And where are they now?”

The question hit harder than Obito wanted to admit. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he looked away. “They probably think I’m dead.”

“Maybe,” M/n said softly, his voice almost pitying. “Or maybe they left you behind.”

Obito’s head snapped toward him, anger flashing in his dark eyes. “They wouldn’t—”

M/n raised a hand, cutting him off. “Relax. I’m not saying it’s true. I’m just saying you shouldn’t expect too much from people.”

His words lingered, settling over Obito like a shadow.

　　　　　　　　　══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

The day Obito could walk again, he ran. His leg ached with every step, the crude prosthetic M/n had fashioned was digging into his skin—which to M/n’s credit said he would make a better one, one that would connect to his chakra and fit better. But he didn’t care for that right now—he had to see Rin, had to let Kakashi know he was alive.

But when he found them, the sight that greeted him shattered what little was left of him.

Rin’s body crumpled beneath Kakashi’s Chidori, blood staining the ground as her lifeless eyes stared into nothingness. Kakashi fell to his knees beside her, his expression twisted with grief, but all Obito could see was the blood on his hands.

Something inside him snapped. He wanted to scream, to cry, to kill, but his body refused to move. The world blurred around him, and by the time he stumbled back to the cabin, his breath was ragged and his vision was swimming.

M/n was waiting for him.

“Obito,” he said, rising to his feet as the younger shinobi collapsed into his arms. “What happened?”

“They… she…” Obito’s voice broke as he buried his face in M/n’s chest, his fists clinging to the man’s shirt like a lifeline.

M/n’s arms wrapped around him, his grip firm but not unkind. “Shh,” he murmured, his hand smoothing over Obito’s hair. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m here.”

Obito’s shoulders shook as he wept, the grief and anger pouring out of him in waves. And through it all, M/n held him, his gaze dark and unreadable.

　　　　　　　　　══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

The days after Obito returned to M/n were a blur. He didn’t speak of what he saw—didn’t have the words to describe how Kakashi’s Chidori had ripped through Rin’s chest, how her blood had painted the earth. When M/n asked, his response was always the same: silence.

But M/n didn’t press him. He gave Obito space, kept his voice soft, his touch gentle, and waited.

It was on the seventh night, after another fitful sleep, that Obito finally broke.

The fire crackled between them, casting dancing shadows across the cabin walls. Obito sat hunched over, his face buried in his hands, his entire frame trembling with barely contained emotion.

“She’s dead,” he whispered finally, the words clawing their way out of his throat. “Rin’s dead. He… Kakashi… he killed her.”

M/n’s gaze sharpened, but his expression remained calm. He set down the blade he’d been sharpening and crossed the room to kneel in front of Obito.

“I see,” M/n said quietly, placing a firm hand on Obito’s shoulder. “So now you know.”

Obito’s bloodshot eyes lifted to meet M/n’s, confusion flickering across his face. “Know what?”

“That people betray you,” M/n said simply, his tone laced with pity. “The ones you love the most—they always do. Rin, Kakashi, your sensei—they all abandoned you when you needed them most. And now look at you.”

“That’s not true,” Obito muttered weakly, though the weight of M/n’s words pressed against him like a vice. “Rin didn’t… she didn’t abandon me.”

“Didn’t she?” M/n’s hand slid to the back of Obito’s neck, squeezing just enough to draw his attention fully. “You saw what she did, Obito. She chose to die. And Kakashi let her.”

“She didn’t want—”

“Then why didn’t she fight? Why didn’t she try to stay alive for you?” M/n’s voice hardened, though he kept his expression calm. “Because she didn’t believe in you, Obito. They didn’t believe in you. But I do.”

The words hung heavy in the air, sinking into the cracks of Obito’s broken resolve.

“I pulled you out of that wreckage. I saved you when no one else cared. Not Rin, not Kakashi, not anyone.” M/n leaned closer, his grip tightening slightly. “You only have me now. And I will never leave you. But you have to let go of them. Let go of the people who hurt you.”

Obito’s shoulders shook, his breath hitching as the first tears fell. And when M/n pulled him into his arms, cradling him like a fragile thing, he didn’t resist.

　　　　　　　　　══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

It started as training.

At first, M/n’s methods seemed harsh but reasonable—he drilled Obito relentlessly, making him push past exhaustion, teaching him how to move with his new prosthetic.

The pain in his missing leg was unbearable some days, but M/n was always there, his voice unwavering: "Your pain is a gift. Learn from it."

Obito tried. He really did. But the grief still gnawed at him, slowing his movements, making him hesitate. He could still see Rin’s face, still hear Kakashi’s voice calling her name.

M/n saw it. He always saw it.

One evening, after Obito collapsed mid-exercise, chest heaving and body trembling, M/n’s patience snapped.

"You’re weak," M/n’s voice was cold as steel. "That’s why you couldn’t save her. That’s why they left you."

Obito flinched, his fingers clenching in the dirt beneath him. “I’m trying,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

"Not hard enough."

The kick came fast—M/n’s boot slammed into Obito’s ribs, sending him sprawling onto the ground. The air fled from his lungs in a choked gasp, pain searing through his body like fire. He curled in on himself instinctively, clutching his side.

His mind screamed at him to fight back, to retaliate—but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

M/n crouched down beside him, fingers gripping Obito’s chin, forcing his face upward. His dark eyes were unreadable, but there was something expectant in them. Waiting.

“Look at me,” M/n ordered.

Obito’s vision was blurred, pain radiating through his skull, but he obeyed.

The moment their gazes locked, a sharp snap rang through his head—a shift, a pull, like something deep inside him had finally woken up.

M/n’s expression changed slightly, his fingers tightening just a little. "Oh?"

Confused, Obito blinked, the world suddenly too sharp, too vivid, too clear. The flickering fire behind M/n cast shifting shadows across his face, the individual strands of his hair distinct in a way that shouldn’t be possible.

His breath hitched.

"The Sharingan," M/n murmured, a slow smirk curling his lips. "Three tomoe."

Obito didn’t understand at first. He blinked again, the clarity still there, still unnatural—and then realization hit him like a blade to the chest.

His Sharingan had fully matured.

The pain, the anger, the agony of loss—it had pushed him to this moment.

M/n had pushed him to this moment.

Obito shuddered, his lips parting as if to speak, but nothing came out. He felt sick, like something inside him had shifted permanently.

M/n’s thumb brushed over his split lip, smearing the blood there as if admiring it. "Now, do you see?"

Obito swallowed hard, his new vision locking onto M/n’s eyes.

"Pain makes you stronger," M/n murmured, almost reverently. He released Obito’s chin but didn’t move away. "You should be thanking me."

And Obito did.

　　　　　　　　　══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

M/n hadn’t spoken in a while.

The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. The only sound was the dull drip, drip of blood hitting the wooden floor. Obito’s blood.

He knelt, panting, sweat and crimson streaking his face. His body ached, the dull throb in his ribs reminding him of the blows he had taken. His Sharingan still spun wildly, his breath sharp and uneven.

He had failed. Again.

M/n leaned back against the wooden table, arms crossed. He was watching—always watching—but his expression gave away nothing.

Obito’s stomach twisted. He had learned to recognize that look.

"Disappointing," M/n finally murmured, shaking his head.

Shame burned through Obito’s chest like acid. His fingers twitched where they rested against the floor, curling into fists.

Not enough.

He was never enough.

“I…” Obito swallowed thickly. “I’ll do better.”

M/n exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “Will you?”

“Yes.” His voice was desperate now, raw with something frantic. He lifted his head, looking up at M/n with pleading, bloodshot eyes. “Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.”

M/n tilted his head slightly, as if considering it. Then, after a long moment, he moved.

He crouched in front of Obito, reaching out. His fingers caught Obito’s chin, tilting his face up fully. The touch was softer than it should have been, considering the pain he had just inflicted.

"You still hesitate," M/n said quietly, his thumb grazing the sharp edge of Obito’s jaw.

Obito shivered beneath the touch, not out of fear—but something else.

M/n’s voice dropped lower, his words slow, deliberate. “You hold back because you’re still clinging to them.”

Obito's breath hitched.

Them.

Kakashi. Rin. Sensei. The ghosts of his past still clawed at him, whispering in the back of his mind.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to drown them out.

“I don’t—” he started, but M/n’s grip on his jaw tightened just enough to stop him.

“Lying doesn’t suit you, Obito.”

Obito opened his mouth—to argue, to deny—but the words died before they could form.

Because M/n was right.

There was still a part of him that ached when he thought of Rin’s smile. A part of him that still saw Kakashi standing over her body in his nightmares.

And M/n had no patience for hesitation.

A sharp sting lashed across his cheek—fast, precise, controlled. Obito’s head snapped to the side from the impact, a choked gasp escaping him.

M/n hadn’t hit him hard. Just enough to prove a point.

“You need to let them go,” M/n murmured, his hand cupping the cheek he had just struck. His touch was warm, careful, fingers brushing soothingly over the red mark.

Obito’s breath stuttered.

The contrast—the sharp bite of pain followed by this—it left him reeling. His mind struggled to reconcile the two, to make sense of it.

But M/n made it easy.

M/n was always there, guiding him, grounding him.

"Do you trust me?" M/n asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Obito nodded, without hesitation. "Yes."

M/n’s fingers trailed down, pressing against the frantic pulse at Obito’s throat. He smiled, satisfied.

"Then prove it."

Obito blinked. "How?"

M/n leaned in, his lips almost brushing against Obito’s ear. "You know how."

And he did.

Burn it all.

Konoha. The village that took everything from him. The village that let Rin die. The village that would never accept him now.

Obito trembled. The hesitation was there—a flicker, a ghost of something old and useless.

Then M/n’s fingers curled around the back of his neck, holding him steady. The touch was possessive, grounding.

"You belong to me, Obito. And I take care of what’s mine."

Something in him snapped.

Rin was dead. Kakashi had left him. Konoha had abandoned him.

M/n was the only one who had stayed.

He exhaled shakily, feeling the last pieces of his past fall away.

"You’re right." His voice was different now—colder. Certain.

M/n grinned. "Good boy."

Obito let out a shuddering breath. And for the first time in his life—he felt free.

　　　　　　　　　══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Obito was on his hands and knees, his face pressed against the sheets, breath ragged, body trembling. His arms ached from holding himself up, but he didn’t dare collapse—not when M/n’s grip was so tight on his hips, bruising, possessive.

M/n was taking him apart.

Splitting him open. Stretching him too wide.

Each thrust was deep, unforgiving, his thick cock slamming into Obito’s abused hole, making his vision blur. The wet sounds of skin against skin filled the dimly lit cabin, mixed with Obito’s shaky moans and M/n’s amused chuckles and groans.

"Fuck, Obito," M/n groaned, dragging his nails down Obito’s back, leaving red lines behind. "You’re taking me so well."

Obito whimpered, his fingers clutching desperately at the sheets. His entire body was burning, a mix of lingering pain from training, exhaustion, and the unbearable pleasure coiling tight in his gut.

He shouldn’t love this.

He shouldn’t crave it.

But M/n had made him need it.

"M-M/n—" Obito gasped, his voice cracking as M/n suddenly thrust deeper, grinding against his sweet spot. His back arched sharply, his body betraying him, his walls squeezing around M/n’s thick length.

"What?" M/n taunted, fisting a hand in Obito’s sweat-damp hair, yanking his head back. He tilted Obito’s face just enough to see the tears clinging to his lashes. His smirk widened. "You crying for me?"

Obito bit his lip, choking down a whimper. He was so full, so overstimulated, so wrecked. His thighs shook from strain, but he didn’t want M/n to stop.

He needed it.

"Please—"

M/n’s grip tightened in his hair, forcing his head back further. His breath was hot against Obito’s ear, sending shivers down his spine.

"Please, what?"

Obito’s pride had long since shattered.

He didn’t care if he sounded desperate.

He didn’t care if he had to beg.

"Please fuck me harder—"

M/n groaned, slamming his hips forward in a bruising thrust. Obito let out a broken cry, his back arching beautifully beneath him.

"That’s more like it," M/n growled, setting a ruthless pace. Each thrust knocked the air out of Obito’s lungs, reducing him to whimpers and choked moans.

M/n was ruining him.

Breaking him in every way possible.

Obito’s dick dripped precum onto the sheets, untouched, twitching with every deep, brutal stroke into his puffy hole. He was so close, his entire body trembling, but M/n hadn’t given him permission yet.

"You wanna cum, don’t you?" M/n murmured, dragging his tongue along the shell of Obito’s ear.

Obito nodded frantically, his sore walls fluttering around M/n’s cock, sucking him in deeper.

"Then beg."

Obito didn’t hesitate.

"Please—fuck, please let me cum—"

M/n chuckled, his thrusts slowing, teasing. "So obedient now. What happened to all that defiance?"

Obito’s face flushed darker.

He was too far gone to fight back.

He was too addicted to M/n’s touch, to his praise, to the sharp edge of his cruelty.

"M/n—" he whimpered. "Please—need it, please—"

M/n hummed, pleased. His grip on Obito’s hips tightened as he slammed forward, hitting his prostate in brutal strokes.

"Cum for me."

Obito’s entire body seized up, his eyes rolling back as he came without a single touch. His cock throbbed, spilling hot streaks of cum onto the sheets, his walls clenching around M/n in desperate spasms.

M/n groaned, slamming into him a few more times before burying himself deep, spilling inside.

Obito shuddered violently, his body spent, legs weak and trembling.

But M/n didn’t let him collapse.

Instead, he pulled Obito up against his chest, his lips brushing against Obito’s sweat-damp temple.

"See how good you are for me?" he murmured, his fingers stroking Obito’s throat, feeling the frantic pulse beneath his skin.

Obito whined softly, leaning into the touch, into the praise.

M/n smirked.

"Good boy."

And Obito let himself sink deeper into M/n’s arms—deeper into the devotion he could no longer escape.

　　　　　　　　　══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Later that night, Obito knelt before M/n once more. His head resting against M/n’s lap.

The fire flickered between them, casting long shadows. M/n watched him with something unreadable in his gaze.

"What would you do for me, Obito?"

Obito didn’t even pause.

"Anything."

M/n smiled, reaching out to tilt his chin up. Their eyes met—Obito’s unwavering, the three tomoe in his Sharingan burning like embers.

"Then say it."

Obito closed his eyes and whispered:

"I’d let the world burn."

M/n’s smirk deepened. He leaned in, his lips barely brushing against Obito’s ear.

"Good boy."

#top male reader

[tsunaso]

holyshit you are so fucking good at this !!!!!!!!!

IM GLAD YOU THINK SO

thank you!

NEXT FIC DROPPING ON FRIDAY!!!! (its an obito fic)

[tsunaso]

🗣 —  rules

Disclaimer — follow my rules or get blocked. Don't like, don't follow.

before you follow! I mostly post fics I've already written. I write dark and mature content. Will occasionally post art. Might sometimes not respond to msgs. Requests are open.

basic rules

do not vent in my inbox or dms about triggering topics.

minors dni, this is a nsfw blog.

feel free to tag me in/recommend me works, just not sub!reader, please.

I age up all underage characters, if nsfw post. (I’m not going to age up/do characters who are like 5)

rules for request

this is a dom!reader only blog. (I don't mind dom!reader bottoming)

I write for male, female, and gender neutral reader.

check my wills and wonts. (will ignore if not followed)

who i write for

batman (anyone relating to batman, ex. Jason todd)

tokyo revengers

bungo stray dogs

naruto

jujutsu kaisen

demon slayer

my hero academia

try any character! and any fandoms listed in my carrd!

will write yandere themes, toxic behaviour, manipulation, noncon (non explicit), dubcon, bdsm, omegaverse, gun play, somnophilia, age gap, poly (max 3), watersports, abusive and violent themes, gore (not the kinky kind), kidnapping, drugging, prostitution?, impregnation, mythical creatures (hybrids, vampires, witches, etc.) You can try to request anything that is not included here. (not including wonts)

won’t write scat, sub!reader, pedophilia, incest, harem, anything that i'm uncomfortable with.

[tsunaso]

Do u just do male reader? Or do u do female or gender neutral reader as well?

I do all genders, it's just that I thought male reader would fit the storylines of the fics more! I will be clarifying later today!

[tsunaso]

Hi! Loved your work and I saw that you wanted request. While I’m happy to think up some ideas, what would help is if you write up and dos and dints. Like have a fandom/character list, clarify hard limits, who can request, etc.

Thank you!!

That makes a lot of sense! I will make one, it's just- I was a little hesitant because I wasn't really sure what to put? But I will clarify what I will do for requests later today! Thank YOU for bringing this to my attention!

[tsunaso]

Me before reading your works: “Oh you know, dubcon just isn’t my thing.”

Me now: “…uh oh.”

Okay but seriously, I really enjoyed both works so far! ❤️❤️❤️

Thank YOU so much! When I read this I got so excited- I started flapping my hands around and giggling. You're my first ask!