#fit four a king

[idliketobeatree]

dead boy detectives contrapuntal poems — 4 — (1) (2) (3) (5) for @dont-offend-the-bees, @dear-monday and @tw0-ravens <3

(click for better quality ✳️)

[stranger-awakening]

One Piece Episode 102 / Episode 377

"I might not have the same bounty on my head as Luffy at the moment, but I swear to you that I'm destined to become the greatest swordsman the world has ever known. Surely that must be worth something."

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

A repost of something that I wrote, and put on my second account before here :)

Eddie was crouched on the curb of the building when one of the back doors to the mall suddenly flung open. He was behind the mall near the dumpsters, so it wasn’t uncommon for people to slam the door with their legs while their hands were full of garbage bags. What was not normal, however, were the tiny shorts on this guy's ass.

There were no shorts that needed to be that short. Though it was the eighties, crop tops, and short shorts on men were a trend. That didn’t mean Eddie had to enjoy it. If anything, he enjoyed it so much that it did a full one-eighty into a bad case of loathing.

But this sailor, in his short blue shorts, maybe one in a million because Eddie's enjoyment was doing a full three-sixty on repeat. He’s pretty sure his eyes were doing that silly animated thing too, where they continuously popped in and out of his skull.

As he kept watching this fine-looking sailor, he noticed the other man struggling to carry three garbage bags in his two hands. His arms were visibly straining from the weight. The man was also purposely stumbling to the dumpster to avoid one of the leaking bags, leaving a trail of melted ice cream behind him. He was a walking disaster just waiting to happen and Eddie found himself slightly more into that than he had previously thought.

What can Eddie say? He has a thing for dumb men and nice asses. And this gorgeous, gorgeous fool in front of him was the epitome of dumbassery.

Eddie was so distracted by this man that his cigarette burned to the nub, and he wasn’t paying attention to the heat slowly beginning to reach his fingers. Not until it was too late did he notice the tiny lit flame against his skin. Some of the ash landed on his pants, hands, and even his favorite ‘Ride the Lightning’ tee.

“Fuck,” he yelps as he hops up and purposely drops the nub under his show to put it out. His right hand, which got burnt, was doing a dramatic jazz hand skit, while his left made a feeble attempt to brush off the ash. He then looks back up to see the sailor, who had been two-thirds of the way to the dumpster before Eddie did his small fire dance, was now looking at him.

From where he stood, Eddie could hear the other chuckling at him. Embarrassment washed over him before it slowly turned to anger when he finally comprehended who he was looking at.

Standing almost ten feet away from him was Steve Harrington, the same Harrington who was a complete douchebag in high school. Now, said douchebag was holding back soft laughter. The asshole even opened his mouth, probably to give Eddie shit, when the bag that had been leaking the entire way to the dumpster finally broke.

Ice cream and trash go everywhere, most landing on Steve's shoes and hairy legs.

Eddie doesn’t hold back the laughter that catches him by surprise, his anger leaving him before he can say anything too stupid. However, he quickly stops when the other boy's gaze falls back on him.

He’s afraid he’ll have to run away from a trash-covered king, but that fear quickly dissolves when he hears Steve's laughter slowly join his.

“I suppose that's what I get for being an asshole.” Steve comments, scrunching his nose in disgust as he steps out of the puddle of sour milk at his feet.

He looks back up, about to say something to Eddie, but the door he exited less than five minutes ago flings open. This time, a disgruntled girl with a slight bob and matching sailor suit emerges.

“Hey, asshole-” She stops mid-sentence, her expression morphing into disgust as she processes the mess surrounding Steve.

Eddie glances back at Steve who is now frantically moving much faster than before. He throws the garbage over the dumpster and quickly begins to pick up what he can, which isn’t much before he runs back to the girl at the door.

“Sorry, I didn’t see the bag was ripped until I was like five feet away from the exit, and I was hoping to get it all mopped up before you noticed, but the bag broke and–” Steve’s words were flying a mile per minute, each hitting his coworker in the face all at once.

Once again, Eddie is surprised by the boy's behavior and so is Robin, whose name tag he had managed to catch when she takes a step back from Steve. Who now reeked of garbage and seemed oblivious to this fact along with what personal space was.

“Ok, ok, I get it, dingus.” Robins's hand moves up in a stop motion. Both she and Eddie watch as Steve’s anxiety train slows down to a halt before it goes too far off the rails.

“We can get a janitor to clean it up or something, but I need you to get back in there before I piss myself. I’m having one of your kids watch the booth while we are away and I don’t think we have enough time to piss and get you cleaned up before they start robbing us clean.” Robin rambles out.

Eddie can’t help but think that the two were perfect for each other because they sure did ramble a lot.

Eddie’s existence is again ignored as the two sailors head back in. Before Steve is completely gone though, he sends a small finger wave Eddie's way.

And at that moment, Eddie decided he was going to loathe that boy's ass forever.

[skitskatdacat63]

Happy Birthday to Seb, and Seb only.

+ some explanations

I realized as I was making this, some of the little stuff probably only makes sense to me, and maybe people who have been following me for a while atp. So I wanted to explain some of the little details I included cause I really love them!!

First of all, I wanted to incude my original sketch for this(from like 5 hours ago lmfao), bcs I find it sooooo cute. Look at him!! Little guy!

I. Fernando's Gift

This is of course a reference to the Fernando teddy bear, but more specifically to the vettonso comic with the bear I drew a while ago. As you can see from my sketch, this is the first gift I came up, which I'm pretty happy about!! It's always so cute to me no matter its form. Though...I don't think teddy bears existed yet in the early 1700s, but Fernando found a way, okay? I like to think Fernando is all gruff in the beginning, but gives Seb this or something similar and remarks "to keep you company when I'm back in Spain," and then he has to pretend he has food poisoning rather than living with having said something so sappy.

II. Mark's Gift

I don't think this is really a reference to any specific post of mine. Dog!Mark is just an important Mark characterization in general, but especially in boy king au where he is really reduced to the status of dog by virtue of his upbringing and vocation. He definitely plays this off as wanting Seb to get another hunting dog(something he advocates for often. Seb knows it's entirely self motivated but loves to humor him bcs its cute to see how much he loves dogs. Well Seb loves dogs too, one dog in particular-)

III. Jenson's Gift

AAAAHHHH I'm so proud of this one bcs of how many leves there are to it!! I couldn't for the life of me think of what Jense would gift him but then I remembered I characterize him as horse obsessed(read: ye olde carfucker.) So this is basically the ye olde version of him getting Seb ultra detailed minatures of his cars. HOWEVER this is also a callback to one of my favorite posts I've ever made, back when I translated Seb's car names into Latin. So it was fun to actually get to canonize that in a way. ALSO! BTW! Those horses are specifically Lipizzans, which are a very iconic horse breed in the Habsburg Empire and Vienna specifically. A horse breed sought after by the Habsburgs for both war but also riding schools, and they still remain as the breed of horse trained in Vienna's Spanish Riding School today. The emperor Seb is based on comissioned the school's main riding hall, and his portrait still hangs above where the riders enter. So I thought that was a fun little easter egg to include!

Also the characterization in this is so funny. I guess I'd consider them a polycule, like they're a unit and all have interesting relationships between each other. But one of the main focuses is the kinda love triangle between sebmarknando. Like Mark and Fernando constantly fighting for Seb'cs undivided affection and attention. But as per usual, Jenson, who is on the sidelines, swoops in effortlessly with the most perfect gift ever. I feel like he understands and gets along with Seb the best out of the three, but just doesn't want to deal with such a complicated thing so he's satisfied being a bit distant(he secretly takes a lot of joy one-upping the other two. It's impossible to not crave your ruler's attention, no?)

[thebirthofvenusfly]

enjoying the isat ageswap au concept and was telling my sibling about it who then asked how the king event/ending scene to act 3 -> start of act 4 would go and. huh.

[holy-be-his-name]

sometimes praying is just

"my love, it would be cool if you were to guide me towards clothes and accessories that would suit me, thanks"

and then you get exactly what you wanted and also more because your husband loves you a lot :]

[gal-with-pastels]

I finally decided who leo would be in the 4 Kings Au!! He takes the role of princess peach! the main ruler of the mushroom kingdom!

the kingdom consists of toads, humans that have stumbled into this world from the Warp pipe under new york, mutants and typical mario “enemies.” like goomba’s Koopa’s and Boo’s who wanted a change of scenery.

Despite being the only one out of the 4 kings to not have special abilties. He makes up for it with his swordsmanship Abilities. He also has a yoshi pal named Lou

[paxcallow]

very normal The World's End (2013) fan has headcanons about the blue stuff

[cosmoknightchaos]

If Alta took things even a tiny bit less seriously this story would be a perfect copy of Megamind

[omarwolaeth]

I think if people built Pend Magicians (with a side of Performapal, Odd Eyes, and whatever additions you think are funny i.e. Hallohallo for an additional tuner option) and duelled eachother in a race to get to Zarc first, I think they'd maybe enjoy Pendulum more.

[neixins]

the sword and shield part of the prophecy is soooo vague that i’ll rotate every possible theory inside my silly little head and then go “or it could be smth else”. absolute net zero conclusions reached but i had fun.

[sttoru]

 𝝑𝑒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you accompany sukuna to a meeting with the head of the fujiwara clan. all goes well, until the other concubines mess with your head, causing you to mess up and overthink everything.

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!reader. prologue to the ‘poisoned concubine’ fic idea. mention of cannibalīsm, subtle misogynistic standards from back then, anxiety. reader gets called ‘woman’. not proof read.

the head of an influential clan would be visiting the estate today, which is why your ladies-in-waiting are currently helping you dress up. perhaps they’re doing too much. the accessories in your hair and the multiple layers of robes and cloth on your body keep weighing you down.

“all done, my lady,” one of them eventually speaks up. the others step back and bow at you politely before cleaning up the area. your head lady-in-waiting hands you a small mirror.

you look stunning. but then again—perhaps a bit too extravagant to your liking. the make-up is heavy, the red powder stands out immediately around the shape of your eyes. the hairpins dangle and make faint clinking noises as you move your head.

“beautifully done. thank you,” you answer with a hum. the jūnihitoe you’re wearing consists of the colors red and gold—something fitting of a high-ranking concubine.

and not just a high-ranking concubine. you’re the ryomen sukuna’s favored concubine.

you grab your folding fan in hand and move out of your chambers when your ladies-in-waiting are prepared for your departure. you’re a bit nervous even though sukuna has held these gatherings many times before (well, against his will; he only does so when he’s certain he’ll gain a satisfying amount of profit).

“you will be the most beautiful woman out there, my lady. i’m sure of it,” the soft voice of your head lady-in-waiting snaps you out of your anxious trance. you tilt your head to the side and flash her a grateful smile. her comment did certainly soothe your fraying nerves.

before you can respond, another one of your attendants speaks up. “those other concubines will be seething with jealousy, my lady,” she giggles quietly, hiding her grin behind her hand.

“i can assure you that they’ll look nowhere as beautiful as you do, as usual,” she adds in a whisper. the three other ladies-in-waiting snicker at the snarky remark.

you have a small itch to scold them for their reckless behavior. shaming another concubine behind her back is strictly forbidden and severely unladylike, though you stay silent. no one is around to reprimand them or you for not teaching your attendants better, so you let them have their little moment.

not like you actually care whether they badmouth the other concubines.

you eventually reach the end of the spacious hallway and come to stand at the top of the grand staircase. you take in a deep breath before looking down at the entrance to the courtyard, where the other concubines are standing.

there at the front is the one and only; sukuna.

the hushed murmurs in the hall fade away as all eyes turn to look up at you. although the only gaze you care about are that of the cursed one.

all four of sukuna’s red eyes are on you. they’re scanning, cold and calculating, like he’s appraising his finest asset. his stoic facial expression doesn’t change as you carefully walk your way down the wooden steps. his eyes, however, never leave your face and body.

the air is heavy with anticipation and as thick as incense smoke. the concubines that are gathered around the king of curses, seeming to have been trying hard to get his attention before you arrived, freeze in place. some can't help but glance your way with poorly veiled disdain or masked envy. you're the last one to arrive and it's clear why: the arrangement of your attire that is almost obviously better in quality than theirs, the coiling in your hair and faint scent of sakura and amber that follows you.

your ladies-in-waiting have been given the finest materials to work with, to prepare you thoroughly for this gathering. the rumors that sukuna had specifically given them everything needed to make sure you're looking your best are proven to be true.

once again, the other women are made aware of the painfully blatant favoritism.

but none of that matters to you. not the whispers, not the glares, not even the sharp inhale of one of the other women at your audacity when you don't even acknowledge their existence. because he is watching.

sukuna, draped in muted reds and dark silks, stands at the forefront like a carving from a fevered dream. towering and immutable. his expression is still unreadable, although his eyes follow you with ruthless precision. those terrible yet beautiful eyes.

they rake over you not like a man admiring beauty, but like a king measuring worth. you feel it in your skin, your throat and your spine. that ancient and oppressive pressure that both threatens to crush you and pull you forward. that push and pull between you two never gets old.

the others notice the palpable tension between king and concubine as well and they're clearly not happy with it. however they have little power to stop it--to speak up against this unfairness.

sukuna's gaze does not falter even once. not as you reach the bottom step, not as you finally meet his stare with one of your own as you stand nearby. it's pure silence for a good five seconds before he speaks up.

“took you a while, woman,” sukuna comments, his voice low and rough. it's not mean, but also not kind or anything close to it. you didn’t expect a compliment from him so the only thing you can do is bow your head in apology.

“my apologies, my lord,” you reply with a steady voice. you ignore the hateful stares from the concubines standing nearby, your eyes on the wooden floors.

sukuna is silent for a moment before a slight and low hum escapes his lips. it’s not much of an acknowledgment to your apology, but it’s enough. he walks past you without much of a word.

except your gaze follows him quietly, and there on his face, only you can notice the slightest curl of his lips. the ghost of that damned satisfied and amused smirk.

you fall in line and slowly walk behind sukuna, on his right side. a brown-haired concubine walks on his left—the other two following. you’re walking down the spacious hallway with elegance, just as is expected of a court lady.

the courtyard is just ahead of you now, the two ornate sliding doors closed and ready to be opened once sukuna gives a sign.

you breathe in slowly through your nose and close your eyes for a good second. you hope nothing goes wrong today, that no one tries to sabotage another.

despite your silent prayers, you’re sure at least on of those women surrounding you will try to embarrass you.

the doors to the courtyard open, revealing the familiar sight of the gardens. you keep your eyes low and fall into pace with the others. however, you can’t help but sneak glances at sukuna’s back.

you know he isn’t fond of having any humans around his estate. they’re usually food for him, or entertainment, before he kills them. you wonder what is going on through his head. if he doesn’t reach a satisfying deal with the fujiwara clan head today, he might just get rid of him. or take out his annoyance on one of the poor servants.

well, the only thing you can do is hope all goes well.

the gardens are as beautiful as ever. the only thing that has been changed to it is the raised lacquered platform with a long low wooden table on it. multiple tatami mats are placed in two rows on each side of the table. one side for the fujiwara clan and the other for sukuna and his concubines.

you’re not surprised to see that the fujiwara clan head is accompanied by his own concubines. even if it’s not spoken out loud, you know it’s a show of power by both sides. the more concubines or courtesans, the more authority and prestige someone holds.

you shiver as you feel a pair of eyes on you. four eyes, staring right at your soul. you immediately lower your gaze once you sense that flicker of dominance, coming from none other than the king of curses. he doesn’t have to directly look at you to be able to scare the soul out of you.

the unspoken threat that passes between sukuna and you is clear; look at that man for a second longer and he dies.

the pink-haired man doesn’t even greet the guests, simply walking to the elevated platform and sitting down on the mat laid out at the head of the table. he doesn’t care—doesn’t bother to talk about anything that isn’t business. he wants those humans gone as soon as possible.

you and the other concubines follow wordlessly. none of you dare to speak up without permission. not that you have any say in the matter. this is a deal between two powerful men and your opinion as a consort isn’t going to be valued much.

you sit on your knees, the cushion comfortable enough to keep you in that position for some time. you fold your hands over your silky robes and keep your head bowed slightly.

“speak,” sukuna grumbles. he’s bored already, not even giving the other man a chance to introduce himself properly. he wants to get straight to the point to prevent losing time on nonsense.

“and make it quick,” he adds as his red eyes bore onto the clan head.

the noble man is taken aback from the coldness and intimidation, clearly swearing a bit already. he’s heard the rumors—of others who’ve sought just a friction of sukuna’s power to help them, only to end up six feet under without getting a chance.

eventually, he clears his throat and speaks. “i humbly thank you for—“

“i said speak.”

a loud crash is heard and it startles nearly everyone around. you flinch but don’t lift your gaze to investigate. you could hear it—the sound of glass scattering down on the floor. a nearby vase scattered. one that was right behind the clan head. it’s a clear threat. a warning to not piss sukuna off even more.

to tread carefully.

you’re used to sukuna’s little outbursts. he’s an impatient man after all. small talk and too much ‘fake’ gratitude irks him. it wastes his time.

the noble man and his consorts squirm in discomfort in their seats, but try to not cause any more ruckus. the vase is already being cleaned up by uraume—their face expressionless as they wordlessly clean up after their master.

and so the actual deal starts to be negotiated. this time with absolute zero small talk.

sukuna isn’t interested and it’s clear. his answers are curt and straightforward, while the clan head does most of the talking and bargaining, mainly getting rejected for his offers.

the tension is heavy in the air. you and the others are basically decoration at this point. pretty dolls with not a say in the matter. no one dares to look around or move.

only when the king of curses finally and reluctantly accepts a single offer, do you breathe. the clan head would grant him full authority over a big area while also sending him sacrifices (which includes humans) every month. in exchange, sukuna would take care of a small problem.

that being assassinating the clan head’s competition, the man’s own brother.

you didn’t even realise how much you’re sweating until the noble man excuses himself to talk to one of his consorts. you look to the side, at sukuna, who’s eyes are already on you.

you’re about to glance back down at your lap when one of his calloused fingers tugs your chin back up. your mouth parts lightly as his rough thumb tugs your bottom lip down, watching it bob back into place once he lets go.

the red lipstick stains his skin, though he doesn’t seem to care.

“are you satisfied with the deal i accepted?” sukuna asks. it’s a trick question, his eyes cold and calculating as he awaits your response.

you swallow thickly before answering, “whatever satisfies you, satisfies me in return, my lord.”

the king of curses smirks. for the first time since you’ve seen him today, he shows an ounce of amusement. he lets go of your chin with a soft shove. “clever,” he comments gruffly.

though it doesn’t seem like it, he’s in a better mood. so much so he orders uraume to prepare a meal. not for the guests—they’re expected to leave immediately. he has no use for them anymore.

uraume bows politely before disappearing into the main building. a few attendants follow them to the kitchen area.

the noble man and his concubines take their leave. neither did they want to linger in the presence of such a cruel monster, who’d kill them with a single flick if they didn’t watch themselves.

the other concubines seem less on edge as well once the guests leave and sukuna seems to be in a somewhat better mood. they know it’s because of you, have seen and heard your little interaction from the sidelines. it irritates and angers them, though they know better than to let it be visible.

the brown-haired concubine whispers to the one next to her. that same woman relies the message to the other and the cycle continues for a few seconds. except for those hushed murmurs, the gardens are comfortably silent.

sukuna doesn’t seem to care much. his focus is on the delicious meal that uraume is preparing him, his fingers drumming against the table as he waits. almost impatiently.

his hard gaze flickers to you again, as it does many times. he did well ordering your attendants to dress you in the finest silk.

“keep that on tonight,” sukuna says shamelessly, his words dripping with innuendo. in other words; he’ll visit your chambers again tonight.

not the others, but you. again.

the concubines fall silent and their faces are masks of polite smiles, but they’re fuming internally. all the while you’re trying not to look embarrassed by sukuna’s bold comment.

“understood,” you answer with a short nod. your heart is beating faster as you try not to show your nervosity. his eyes are clearly undressing you, imagining what you’d taste like. both figuratively and literally.

while you wait for your meal, you look around idly. one of the concubines had called over her attendant and whispers something in her ear. you can’t catch what it is, but the young girl seems to be a bit taken aback. her eyes flicker to sukuna for a split second.

perhaps with concern.

but just as quickly, she’s gone, back inside the building with a hurry in her steps. you shake the feeling off. it’s probably nothing.

you take a deep breath to calm yourself. you’re overthinking everything again—the anxiety becoming worse as the concubines flash you smiles when you glance their way. those same fake smiles they give you whenever sukuna is around. despite the fact that you’re used to it, they seemed more sinister than usual.

perhaps it’s just your imagination.

your palms start to get sweaty when you don’t even know why you’re getting so worked up about something so subtle. that look that attendant gave sukuna, even if it was for a split second, was your first sign. and then the smiles, the muffled laughs they hide behind their fans. behind the disguise of inaudible jokes between fellow concubines . . .

what are they planning this time? are they going to try something foolish to mess with you again? or perhaps they’ll try something else this time.

. . . surely they won’t be foolish enough to try and do something to sukuna? no, of course not. they don’t have that much power or the abilities to cause any damage to someone of his status. plus, they’d be signing their own deaths with that. but if something happens to him, you won’t be save either.

it’s too much. you’re overthinking too much.

without hesitation, you stand up. you need to go somewhere to calm down, because at this rate you’re going to embarrass yourself with the concern and fear etched onto your face. all the while you try your best to keep that elegance in your form, the polite smile on your lips.

“please excuse me,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady. you bow your head at sukuna, who’s watching you intensely with a raised brow. he didn’t expect you to excuse yourself without permission.

before he can say a thing, you’re walking down the main gravel path to the building. all eyes are on you until you disappear behind those doors. the concubines hide their victorious grins behind their folding fans, eyes downcast.

sukuna however, doesn’t show much emotion on his face at your sudden departure. the thrumming of his fingers stop soon after and he clicks his tongue.

he doesn’t know what you’re up to and it’s annoying him. he’s got this urge to keep you beside him at all times so he can keep an eye on you. just like you’re expected to do as his concubine.

what you did just now was an act of defiance. he should’ve ordered you to stay, but something inside him just let you go. to give you the illusion that you had a choice.

sooner or later you’ll return and grovel before him, apologising for your actions and explaining what the hell that was for. when that time comes, he’ll be even more ruthless with his punishment. will show you that defying him has its consequences, even for someone he tolerates. favors.

but when the minutes pass by and you’re still not back, his anger flares up. he tells himself it’s because you disobeyed him by leaving without a word. but a tiny part inside him, the one he loathes and never shows, hates the fact that you left his side more. the fact that he has this ugly possessive need to drag you back outside just so he can keep an eye on what you’re up to.

you belong to him—you’re a part of him. therefore you cannot ever leave him. even if it’s for a second or five minutes.

“damned woman.”

sukuna curses under his breath and slams his palm against the table loudly. he stands up, his large and intimidating frame unfolding to his full 7”’ height. he’s greatly displeased. displeased at the fact you defied him, that he allowed you to actually step foot inside the building and away from him.

but also angry that he has to chase after you. because he has this urge to find out what has gotten into you—the usually obedient, though fiery, concubine that wouldn’t just leave him behind like this.

the pink-haired man storms off, his crimson eyes flaring with anger that scares the concubines left behind into silence. the look in their eyes turns from fear to pure hatred once sukuna disappears behind those doors to go after you.

to have the ryomen sukuna basically chase after someone - not with the intention to kill them or actually harm them - never happens. they cannot believe it. that blatant favoritism never stops, no matter how much they try to gain his attention.

why does he keep them around, like prisoners, when he doesn’t even as much as look at them?

it pisses them off. it fuels their hatred, not only for you, but for him.

however, they calm down as they think of what they have planned amongst themselves;

if all goes well, it’ll be the first and last time sukuna seeks you out - or anyone else for that matter.

[alexiroflife]

"in every life"

curse reincarnation, fluff

ryomen sukuna x reader

Synopsis: you, a former sorcerer and sukuna's wife, are killed in the heian era. sukuna does not believe in a life without you, so he takes it upon himself to bring you back a thousand years later

to sum it up: you are sukuna's life, and no matter how long he has to wait, he will bring you back to him by any means necessary

WC: 3,621

Warning(s): angst in the beginning, reader death (but you're revived), brief icky descriptions of a vessel's possession

-> ask | sukuna fic list

Sukuna remembers the exact moment you left him, soul fluttering almost gracefully from your eyes as your body fell limply into his four arms.

The moment replays in his mind as though it had only happened yesterday, or perhaps as recently as a few hours prior. Time has never been something the king of curses worried himself over, for his strength and existence exceeded such mortal constructs, but when his thoughts wander to you as frequently as air fills and deflates from his lungs, the very concept grows skewed and suddenly, time is a matter of great importance to him.

A king is nothing without his queen beside him, his rock, his partner, and that is what you are. That is what you were, but Sukuna refuses to address you in any form of past tense because your temporary withdrawal from the planet and from his side would never alter the fact that you are his, that you have been his, and that you will be his until the end of time. 

Sukuna has never been one for romantics, for connections that tie his free spirit down from the unfettered, terrifying rule that he leads, but when you entered his life, his opinions shifted and his ambitions changed, making room for you at his side upon his throne. 

The two of you had been married for years before you left him. Sukuna had never bothered to count, but now he finds himself mulling over the years’ contents in search of a piece of your memory that can stay with him until the time comes for you to return to his hand. 

When you were alive, Sukuna never fathomed you leaving his side. He almost feels he should punish you for so abruptly taking an absence from him without permission, castigating your spirit until he feels that the space you once occupied close to him emanates remnants of an apology, of guilt, of a promise to never do such a foolish thing ever again. 

When you were alive, you were a sight to behold, a perfect fit for the title of his wife. You were deserving of each and every privilege he bestowed upon you; of holding his face in your small, dainty hands, of pressing your lips to the textured plate of his face, of throwing your legs over his thighs as you settle onto his lap with a large, burly arm coming around you and securing you there for all of his servants and former concubines to see how high you sit amongst him and how low they remain beneath the two of you. 

You always said what you were thinking. While he ensured that everyone within and outside of his temple feared him, you were always unaffected by his intimidating presence. He remembers one instance in which you were lying beneath him, a mess of silk fabrics swarming your bare figure over your reserved place in his bed with your hair splayed out messily over the pillows and your eyes weighted with a foolish look of what he could only describe as enchantment and tender allegiance.

He feels the ghost of your fingers trace his jaw as he looks down at you quietly, dwarfing you in his mass. A smile touches your soft lips with a rosy hue swirling over your (s/c) skin. 

“Your eyes are quite beautiful.”

Your voice is a whisper of past enamorations through Sukuna’s ear as his brows arch in reminiscence. He remembers how he glared at you in confusion, face hard though he always allowed you to continue admiring him, to continue touching him without consequence. His eyes, which mirror the color of fresh, crimson blood as he has watched it gurgle from the mouths and limbs of his victims, staining the streets, his hands, and his monstrous legacy, are windows you believe to be… beautiful.

Your sentiments never failed to befuddle him. He never did understand why you associated such a ferocious beast with beliefs so light and pure. He is not beautiful, he had thought. He never desired to be beautiful. He is simply Ryoman Sukuna, enough of himself to be categorized in unique isolation, separate from your labels of aesthetic charm and peace. 

You’re silly. Silly with love and submission, he thinks, but he has never denied you of these admirations though he fails to agree. 

Besides, you are his wife. He would have allowed you to worship him in any way you pleased if you asked, and in truth, you hardly did ask. You knew what you were to Sukuna, how you and only you remained the only soft spot that the salmon haired demon withheld in his breast. You were beyond requesting approval to love him in the ways you saw fit, and Sukuna was pleased because you knew, in all spaces, that you were his and he was yours. 

Among all the trophies of battles won, of cities conquered, of titles obtained, you are Sukuna’s greatest prize. 

His love for you was always silent, long glances and grips of the waist, orders to slaughter on your behalf and the pat of his hand over his beefy thigh to beckon you over. His love was an unrestrained space for you to express your desires, to demand his attention, and his compliance with a veil of frustration poorly masking his easy willingness to give you anything you pleased. His love was long, sleepless nights, the marking of his territory by means of stinging bites and purple bruises over your smooth skin that no living being in his wake could mistake for anything but a reminder of your connection to him. 

His love was you incarnate, just a woman before hell’s greatest crown, but his love no less. His wife. His queen. His eternity.

Sukuna does not know why he mourned you when you died. He found himself reacting impulsively, in a short-lived panic when your blood spilled over his skin and your eyes lost the light that he’d been following through the tunnel of his rein for years. 

He knows death is a taboo concern only for mortals to fret over, but when you die, he feels as though he has died himself. Your life flashes before his eyes, your time with him, and this strange ache swarms his body and manifests as a ball in his throat as his ruby hues melt over you in alarm. 

He struggles to accept your parting. He’s viciously angry, a horrible wreck that his servants fear stepping too close into proximity as the time passes and your vacancy weighs itself over his temple and his body like a mountain. He had believed your death to be painful, but the period that follows, the period of waiting stings him like no pain he has endured before. 

A king needs his queen, and without you, no matter for how long, he feels empty. He rampages his heartache away, but it no longer holds the satisfaction it did when you were with him, watching from the sidelines and cheering him on. His estate feels colder somehow, the dent you’ve left in his bed losing its shape and the memory of you fading from others’ minds, but not from his. Never from his. 

Sukuna knows that he will see you again. In any era, no matter how much farther into the future, he will find you once more, bring you back to his embrace, and dust off the crown that he has reserved for your pretty head alone. 

He holds onto a piece of you, storing it safely, awaiting the time to revive you even within his own cursed slumber after having sealed himself for a millenia, severing parts of him and scattering it over the country.

You, however, remain stowed safely in one place. A place he will remember to return to when he reawakens in rebirthed flesh.

Now, a millenia following your untimely death, Sukuna stares emptily at the woman before him, curling and tossing around with bound wrists and ankles at his feet.

She’s crying, screams of horror rising into the starry sky as Sukuna’s eyes glint menacingly beneath the moonlight. He watches her carefully, curling his lips. He looks at this pest, this fragile, forgettable mortal woman and sees everything that you are not. For a moment, he hesitates, his fingers clutching over the ancient parchment wrapped object he holds protectively within his grasp at his side. 

His brows draw together in frustration induced by your vessel. He knows he picked wisely, however, he can not deny the hesitation that captures his mind when he contemplates whether this vessel will do your worth justice. Whether it will truly bring you back the way he plans for you to be. 

He holds up the object in his hand, your energy emitting from behind the paper and through his veins, easing into his blackened soul. You are practically calling to him, holding his hand, murmuring into his ear that it will be okay. 

Sukuna is reminded then and there solely by the spirit of you that nothing in this world could even begin to dwindle the brilliance in which you shine, that even within the body of a bird or a squirrel, your essence would burst through. You will reincarnate wholly as how you left him, and as nothing less. 

With a heavy exhale through his nose, Sukuna unravels the object, tossing the parchment to the ground, and takes a step forward to approach the young woman squirming in the grass before him. He walks over her, feet planted on either side of her figure, and bends down. Her eyes go white with terror as snot and tears dribbles over her nose and down her cheek. Sukuna looks into her coldly, grasping a hand over her face and digging his black nails into her jaw. 

She shudders an agonizing, shrill screech that is soon muffled by the manner in which Sukuna squeezes her cheeks inward and forcefully pries her mouth open. 

With a steely, disconnected glare, Sukuna takes the object imbued with your cursed energy, your ring finger. He pulls your wedding band from the decrepit digit and pushes it to the woman’s lips. Her eyes go wide as she chokes over her jaw’s lack of mobility, and the taste of something foreign and timeworn on her tongue. Her stuttered, whimpering gasps release and she gargles once Sukuna pushes the object down her throat. He slaps his hand back over her mouth as it slides down her throat and she twitches uncontrollably, eyes cracking with red veins. 

The king of curses holds her still as her body flops wildly, her chest lurching forward and limbs flying about. Her body can not handle the intrusion of a thousand year old sorcerer’s influence, so it fails. Her eyes roll into her skull and her fingers twitch once her limbs have stilled in the grass. A symphony of crickets chirping lifts into Sukuna’s ears as the woman beneath him goes completely silent, dead, still.

He waits. After a millennia of existence confined to cursed flesh, after years of the cold left in your wake nipped at his skin, after battling bodies for dominance over a vessel, he waits just a few seconds more for you.

After it seems as though he has lost you for a second time, the body’s eyes flicker. Sukuna stills above you, pupils shrunken in anticipation.

Movement shifts beneath him. A chest rises, and breathing begins steadily through it. The color of this vessel’s skin shifts, transitioning slowly, milking into the hue of gentle (s/c) that Sukuna once caressed with his rough fingers. Color flushes through pale cheeks, and irises of (e/c) roll back from the skull and stare widely ahead, directly into Sukuna’s gaze. Finally, your voice comes, a gentle hum of confusion and discomfort as you regain your lost senses.

Sukuna’s heart skips as the familiar warmth of your body emanates from beneath him again, and his hand is slowly sliding from your parted lips. He feels as though he’s just run a marathon despite his inability to wind himself. He breathes out heavily, gradually, and silence envelopes the two of you in the darkness of the late night. 

While Sukuna had planned this from the very moment you went dead in his hands, he feels somehow starstruck by you. You look as beautiful as you were centuries in the past, skin smooth, brows curled, lips soft as though you had not been gone from his life for more than a brief second. You have returned to him as he had thoughtfully calculated, and yet, he can not fathom the fact that you are here at long last, mere centimeters away, manifested into truth by his graze of your chin. 

The muscles in your brows pull together in disbelief, glimmering eyes shining over as you take in the sight before you. The last thing you felt was a blade slicing into your heart and ripping down through your body, the last vision of Sukuna racing to throw you into him as your opponent met his end with the selective mutilation of his internal organs at your husband’s hard, feral, red glance.

You blink hurriedly, shooting a hand out to your husband’s bicep. “...Ryo?” you whisper in a trembling voice, knowing him by gaze and presence and touch alone. 

The said demon’s brows angle and his body lurches forward with a sharp exhale upon hearing your voice utter his name outside of the confines of his mind’s nostalgia and imagination. He is overcome by the return of you to him, eyes fiery with longing for his once lost love and shoulders aching as the weight that had been crushing down finally releases. The sensation of your fingers curling over his arm sends chills down his spine, for time has never altered Sukuna’s course of existence, but time tells in the way he physically shivers when your loving contact revives on his skin after having been stripped of him for what feels like eternity.

Tears pool in your eyes and your shaky hands raise to smooth over his face, exploring his marked skin and familiarizing yourself with the structure of the being you fell in love with many lifetimes ago. Sukuna’s brow flinches as you feel over his face, and his own palm cradles over your cheek, dwarfing your head in the fashion it always used to as the back of his fingers skim over your heated flesh. 

“Ryomen,” you say his name again, voice crumbling and your shoulders jerking in awe.

He trips down into you, hands clutching over your head as you guide his face down with his hasty movements. Your name tumbles hoarsely from his rumbling voice, against your lips, and slotting into your mind in a haze as his lips meet yours urgently. 

You cry gently into him, lips parting and pushing back in as he kisses you fervently, savoring you, burrowing you into his body’s memory to recover the time he has spent deprived of you. Your hands fly over his neck, down his back, detailing the ridges and the muscles rippling beneath the fabric of his shirt that you know so well. He presses himself down into you, pulling you in closer by your head, flushing your chests together to intertwine your souls once more. Heady grunts and growls heave into your mouth between frenzied, stunned, satisfied kisses, and each time a tear of yours catches into the liplock, Sukuna is pulling it into his lips, saltiness swirling through the sweet release of his misery. 

He’s missed you. So very much, he’s missed you. He doesn’t know how he has managed to go so long without you now that you are here again, now that he is holding you again, kissing you again. 

“My king,” you whimper when you get a chance to break away, foreheads bumping as Sukuna shushes you gently.

“Do not fret, peach,” he soothes you, lips brushing yours as his now loving gaze spills into your own. “You are alright.”

Despite Sukuna’s ruthlessness and his wild murderous expeditions, as well as his blood-curdling tone that further accentuates the weight of his threats when thrown into the direction of others, Sukuna melts into calmness for you, his low voice mellow and meditative, enraptured in the peace that you bring him. You know all sides of your dear husband, and yet this is the rawest side of him that you know, that he treats you with. 

“What happened?” you whisper as his hands run over you, catching your tears and tracing the curves of your flesh. “Where are we?”

“In the garden,” he answers you easily, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. 

“At… at home?” 

He hums in affirmation, leaning back just a bit to stare into you. The pairs of your eyes shine as they absorb the image of one another, still and sincere. Grass tickles your ears and your arms, and you look down, realizing that you are lying in a patch of greenery. You slowly tilt your head to the side, and Sukuna keeps his gaze glued to you like you will disappear before him. Your eyes capture the stems of daffodils and lavender that sprout around your head, pointing into the night sky and swaying gently in the warm breeze. You recognize the plants as the ones you had always taken to tending by the creek behind Sukuna’s temple, which he had the servants fashion as a suitable garden for you to indulge in. 

You do not recall being here last. You recall dying. You recall your world going dark.

You turn back to meet his heavy eyes. “What did you do?”

He is silent for a moment, taking his time to study you before answering as though the question is the simplest one he has ever been asked. “I have brought my queen back to me. As I have always sworn to do if we were ever separated.”

“...How long have we been separated?”

“It does not matter.”

“How long was I away from you, Ryo? How long did I leave you for?”

“It does not matter,” he reiterates gently yet ever so firmly. “Do not think of it.”

“Please-” you frown, eyes shining over again. “I hadn’t- I didn’t mean to leave you. I don’t know how I even let it happen… I can’t imagine what that must have gone through…”

Ryomen catches the guilt in your gorgeous eyes and he is quick to gather you up in his arms. He pulls you up slowly, keeping your eyes locked as you allow him to lift you from the ground with his arms wound tightly over your waist. Your hands go to Sukuna’s shoulders as he kneels over you, keeping you steady and upright, face to face, nose to nose, eye to eye. 

“I refuse to allow the first thing you do in reincarnated life to be reminding me of what life was like without you,,” he says. “I do not wish to revisit it. It does not matter,” he repeats for a third time. 

You tilt your head with the tug of your lips downward sadly, threading your hands through his pink locks and holding onto the nape of his neck. The moonlight milks over you regally, as though the stars have aligned for this very moment, to illuminate you both in the universe’s joyous eye. You swallow hard. “Am I a curse?”

“You are my wife. I will not tolerate you labeling yourself as anything different..”

You inhale deeply, bringing your forehead back to him and closing your eyes. His arms pull you in tight, rhythmic breaths easing you into this reality complacent, affectionately, lovingly. 

“I’m sorry I left you, my love,” you murmur.

Now that he’s heard you apologize, seen your remorse sparked by something out of your control, he doesn’t fare well with it. 

You are not a plague to him, a burden, and telling him that you are sorry in his mind now insinuates such. Even after leaving him, after stealing away his warmth, after haunting his slumber and his consciousness for eons, he does not fault you. He would never fault the woman he chose to keep by his side in wellness and in death. 

He does not accept your apology. You have done nothing but love him, yet Sukuna is the one who should have protected you. 

He runs a hand over the back of your head, down your hair, and exudes his message of impenetrable love to you through his embrace and sweltering red eyes. “All I ask of you is that you stay. In this era and the next. Stay by my side as you are meant to be.”

You nod eagerly against him. “I will,” you whisper. “I will, I promise.”

Sukuna reaches down at his side for the ring he had set down. With one hand to your back, he pulls your wedding band forward and presents it to your twinkling eye. You gasp. 

“You still have it,” you sigh.

“In what world would I not?” 

You bring your hand down, spreading your fingers, and you watch as the kind of curses slips the rusted treasure over your finger, fitting it perfectly into place with the renewal of your marriage and the reunion of your hearts.

You admire the way it looks upon your hand happily, and Sukuna drags you back into his lips, pecking you tenderly before moving back in with his hands firm to you. You shift further up so that his arms can completely take you in, heads bumping as your lips swim together in commemoration of a rebirth into a new life.

[oreo-creampies]

“𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧’ 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 (𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲!)”

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭! Sukuna fucks you, queen of the fae, into a messy cum covered whore

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! queen of the fae!reader, demon king!sukuna (true-form), size kink, hentai logic lets say his monster sized cock fits in your fairy cunt, pussy drunk, overstimulation/hints of mindbreak, cock-drunk, monster sized cocks one has a knot the other is softly ribbed, HUGE HUGE HUGE SIZE KINK, sensitive wings, squirting, degradation/some praise, sukuna is 10ft tall in this one, your pussy is like a pocket of holding and it can take that shit, lets say you have tits even if you don’t for this one, titty fucking, double pentration (cunt and anal), pain kink, restraining/rough manhandling, fucking you in front of a mirror then on the bed, reader has magical abilities, sukun eats your ass a little with one of his hand’s mouth, sukuna is mean but gentle with your wings, pussy slapping, some anal fingering (he doesn't touch you with the hand after), belly bulge from both his cock and cum, squirting his cum when he pushes on your stomach, he covers you in his cum too, fingering

Fey; i get it if you judge me for this one, but in my defense my coochie held me at gun point to write this one. I'm giving you one more warning to use hentai logic with this one!!!

Sukuna strokes the base of your iridescent wings making them stretch out and flutter. Trembling, arching your back, digging your nails into the arm of the hand clenching your waist. Getting off on how Sukuna can hold you up, to use like a cocksleeve, with one massive hand.

“I look so big taking your stupid lil bratty ass from behind, look at yourself, you’re built like a handheld toy for me to use whenever I want.” Sukuna that’s massive, from his height to his hands, to the cocks stretching out both of your sloppy wet holes.

He croons, “You’re hot crying with your tiny wings fluttering n’ your stomach bulging.” Slowly stretching your wings out then pulling you upright by a firm grasp on your throat. Your wings occasionally brush Sukuna’s warm chest.

Your sloppy wet cunt is gushing on his cock, thick warm cum squirts and trickles onto the floor. Both of your wet holes quiver, clenching his thick cocks.

Sukuna moans, “Stupid slutty lil princess make a mess on my cocks, cumming so damn much you’ve made a puddle on the floor.

His four eyes fixating on how his thick knot tugs on your cunt. “Nnnn look at that you’re clenching me too tightly for me to pull out?” You squirm and cry when he sucks on your clit with a hand’s mouth.

Insisting, “Princess? I'm a queen?!” He licks your cock-stuffed cunt with a hand’s tongue. When he moves his hand away you’re fixating on how your cunt is split into a perfect circle by his thick knot.

Sharply crying when Sukuna pinches your sensitive clit. “Yet you’re taking my cocks like a common whore.” He roughly pulls his knot and cocks out eliciting a needy whine from you when you’re empty.

Dropping you on the massive nearby bed which floats with with a wave of your hand. “It doesn't make me any less a queen.” Spreading your legs for him, “It just means I'm a queen whose a monster cock loving slut.”

Sukuna pins your thighs by your side, lining his bottom cock up and nudging your asshole with his cockhead. Unlike his other cock’s blunt head it has a thinner cone-shaped like tip, which gets thicker after each soft ridge.

He rests his other cock on top of you, covering your cunt and resting between your tits. “And to think you were just takin’ me in your soft lil‘ cunt, I knew fae magic was something else but this is isn't what I expected.” His cock is so big, yet he feels no deeper than your belly button when inside.

Pressing your breasts together, squeezing his fat cock. He grabs your hair yanking your head up, making you look at his cock peeking out from between your tits.

Sukuna groans when you lick his cockhead. “I wonder how much you can take before your magic runs out and you break.” Slowly rolling his hips fucking your soft ass, his cock on top stroking your sensitive clit.

Pleading with Sukuna, “Break me, fuck! Nnn it won't be too long before I'm ready for more! Please! I can't get enough they’re so big, I can't get enough! Please fuck me with both cocks please! Please! Please!” He covers your mouth sticking his fat tongue into your mouth, you can faintly taste yourself.

“What? You’re looking up at me like you want to kiss some different lips.” He smirks gliding himself out of your ass and takes his other cock off your body to let them both hang

He leans down, “Hah you’re too small to properly kiss me.” You lean forward covering his larger lips in kisses, sliding your fingers into his hair.

“I can cover you in kisses.” Sukuna’s lips covers your cheek when he kisses you. Standing up he’s a ten foot monstrous demon and you love it. You love how small you feel beneath him, restrained in a mating press for him to mercilessly fuck both sensitive, sloppy wet holes.

He roughly smacks your cunt, licking your asshole with his thick tongue. The sharp pain rips wonderfully through the pleasure of having your ass ate. Loudly pleading, “Fuck me please, please fuck me. I wanna cum again!”

“Greedy lil brat is a better title for you, after you squirted and made a mess all over my floor you’re begging to cum again.” Another harsh slap to your cunt has you crying.

Pleading with Sukuna, “Im a greedy slut for your thick cocks! I can't help it! It feels like I'm about to go into heat. Please use whatever hole you want my King it gets me off how you use me for your pleasure.” Grabbing the bottle of lube left on the bed, taking his tongue out of your ass.

He pours a lot onto your tight hole then stuffs it in with two thick fingers. Some of the lube drips onto the sheets, “Good girl.” Pumping his fingers faster, smearing the lube. “Call me me your King again.”

He lines himself up, “Please fuck me My King.” He roughly stuffing both holes in a swift thrust. Your body tenses up with a sudden jolt, he’s too big. And being unable run away from the overwhelming intensity magnifies it.

Sukuna demands, “This is my sloppy lil’ cunt to cum in till I get bored of you. Say it!” Putting his weight into your thrust watching your stomach expand when his cock nestles in deep.

“Nnnn!” You can’t focus his words his cock stretching out both holes making the strip of skin between go taunt. You’re a fuck toy for him and it feels so good.

He’s so perfect from cocky smirk, to the condescending way he is looking down at you, and his thick cocks stirring you up pushing you towards cumming again.

He sneers, “Are you already too cock drunk?” Trailing his fingers gently along the top of one of your expanded wings. “Be a good girl and tell me who owns you brat.” Licking your clit with his stomach’s tongue, the pleasure is building rapidly.

Even after squirting on his cock he’s getting you this worked up so fast. It's hard not to with the intense stimulation from Sukuna licking your clit whilst mercilessly fucking you sloppy holes into a loose with his monster cocks.

You whine, “You do my King! ‘S your cunt! Nnn I wanna covered in your cum.” Picking up his pace, even with your magic the bed is rocking. “Fuck you’re so big! Nnnn please please! I'm your good girl.” Grabbing his thick, tattooed forearms, digging your nails in.

“Good girls get cummed in don’t they?” He fondled your breasts, biting and sucking on your nipple. The way he’s toying with your body is wonderful.

You beg him, “We shouldn't, we aren't married, but I want you to! Nnnn! Fuck! You’d cum so much, I would be so full!” Softly clutching the sheets when he flicks your tongue faster, adding a little more pressure. “I wanna feel your warm cum.”

A couple more strokes and your reasoning is quickly crumbling as you cum. All you can think about are his cocks throbbing inside you, filling both holes up. It’s too tempting you're begging with Sukuna, “Please cum! Please cum! Wanna feel your warm thick cum!”

He wonders, “How long did you spend making a spell that can let you take cocks bigger than you should. Or did it come naturally to a slut like you?”

You’re unable to process his question instead you’re loudly moaning, “Please cum! Please! Please! My king! Daddy! Sir! Please! Suukunnna.” Sukuna squeezes your throat and lifts you off the bed. Using his grasp on your throat and his to make you meet his merciless thrusts.

It’s hot to hear Sukuna sound so needy as he whines, “Nn!!! Nn! ‘S tight, wet! Fuck!” He grabs your hair yanking your head back so he can watch you cry while he fucksyou. Keeping eye contact with two eyes while the other two fixate on how your stomach bulges.

Softly growling and grunting “Mine! All fuckin! Nnnnn! Stupid pretty lil’ brat.” His jaw drops with needy loud whines as he loses himself in the intoxicating pleasure of your wet holes clenching his cocks.

There is a crash as the bed hits the floor. Sukuna turns around and lies down on an uneven half-broken bed. He digs his heels into the bed and roughly rutting his hips. “Fuck so damn hot! So fucking small, I wanna make you cry and ruin your tight cunt.”

You lean forward resting your hands on his abs above his stomach’s mouth. “Please cum! Sukuna please!” He softly growls then fucks you harder making it hard for you to string a word together in between your cries.

His brows pinch together and his jaw drops with a loud groan. “C-cum on mmmmm!” It’s impossible to think with the way your soft, soaking-wet holes are gripping and rubbing his cock. Your tears rolling down your beautiful face spurring him on getting him so close to cumming inside you.

“Cry! Louder! Fuck me!” Your cunt spasms as you cum on Sukuna’s thick cock. Sukuna’s eyes roll back, shoulders curl in and he tosses his head back. Whining loudly, “Nnn too-too too tight! Too much! Please!” Thick hot cum spurts in your stomach making it swell.

When he lets your throat go you use your first steady breath to whine “Please?” Sukuna's cheeks flushes a dark shade of pink matching his hair. He stuffs a finger in your mouth and fondles your soft breast, sucking on your nipple.

His cock pulses as more thick cum keeps trickling out. Your aching holes spasm around his cock. It’s wonderful to be so full of Sukuna’s cum and cocks.

He rolls over, towering over you with two massive cocks stuffed in each hole. “Don’t think this means we are done. Im going to clean up then see if your lil’ bratty cunt can take both of my cocks.” Slowly gliding his cocks out, Sukuna pushes on your building stomach making his cum squirts onto his hand and the bed.

Sukuna smears his thick cum over your thighs, tits, and waist. Gliding his finger inside you costing himself in cum which he stuffs into your mouth. “How do we taste?” You groan whilst sucking his thick finger as he holds his dirty hand to your asshole, licking your cum filled asshole.

He pulls his finger out with a wet pop. “Bitter, but I love being filled with and feeling your cum gushing out of me!” Lifting you off the bed by your hair Sukuna dangles you in front of the mirror.

“You look hotter covered and dripping with my cum.” He glides a thick finger into your cunt, pushing more thick cum out of you faster with slow pumps.

Letting your hair go causing you to flutter your wings to afloat. “How long can you keep hovering with those little wings while I'm fingering you?”

Oreo’s m.list

[derpy-chats]

I see everyone's "Rumi is always warm cause she's a half-demon" and I raise you Rumi is always cold because demons are like reptiles. They live in a barren wasteland that seems to be massive, but they are always crowded around the massive fire that serves as their king. With that, have some cold-blooded Rumi ideas!

Rumi still loves cuddling her girls, but now it's raised to 11. She is constantly nuzzling into their necks and crawling into their hoodies with them. Mira and Zoey have started buying 4XL hoodies so that it fits them and Rumi

Her marks are always cold, kind of like ice packs to her girls. One day, when Zoey gets sick, she just lays against Rumi and calls her "My beautiful ice queen"

Rumi's room is full of plants and space heaters, and the girls always complain that it's too hot and humid in there. Rumi just smiles and goes back to lounging on the four heating pads on her bed

Mira comes home with one of those plushies you can put in the microwave and gives it to Rumi on a particularly bad day. Rumi bursts into tears every time she has to put it back in the microwave

In the winter, Rumi sleeps. A lot. The girls start panicking until they realize she's trying to sleep through winter. Zoey decides that they should take a break from preforming, and they spend the whole winter cuddled together under a blanket

Rumi keeps her hoodies on, not because she's ashamed of her marks, but because she's always really cold. She's also much more likely to get sick, but she denies it every time she is

[mooningningg]

۶ৎ JJK Men reads thirsty tweets! with sukuna.

۶ৎ ningning, shout out to the people who said these diabolical things, was very entertained writing this.

he walks in already irritated.

not even two seconds on set and sukuna’s cracking his neck, arms folded, thick brows pulled together like someone made eye contact with him at a stoplight. there’s no PR team, no handler, no smile. just him, four fucking arms, a deep scar under his eye, and an attitude like he’s one inconvenience away from leveling the studio.

"why the fuck am i here again?" he mutters, tugging the mic wire from under his shirt like it’s choking him.

"reading... what? thirsty tweets?"

he lets out a dry, ugly laugh. “nah, fuck off. y’all got no shame.”

his tongue clicks. he plops down in the chair, massive legs spread like he owns the planet—which, honestly, he could. shirt open, tattoos sprawling down his chest and arms, the lower pair of his hands cracking his knuckles while the uppers take the first card.

he squints. already mad. "alright. who the fuck said this one."

tweet #1

@nottellingofname: tbh... not even malevolent shrine can keep me away from that belly mouth. GIVE ME THAT D!!!

he blinks. blinks again. "...no. nah. what the fuck?" he holds the card away from his face like it physically stinks.

“what do you MEAN ‘not even malevolent shrine’? that’s a domain expansion. it slices anything with intent. you’d be cubed. diced. dead.” he flips the card like it’s gonna give him answers.

“GIVE ME THAT D??? WHICH ONE?! I HAVE FOUR FUCKING ARMS—WHAT D ARE YOU EVEN REFERRING TO??” he glares into the camera, visibly disturbed. "and y’all say I’m the monster.”

tweet #2

@fushigurozm: both holes both dihs 🙏🙏🙏

he just stares. long. dead silent. “…both—what?”

he squints, like the letters are rearranging themselves. "what the fuck is a dih. no, I’m not doin’ this." he turns to someone off-camera. “this some Gen Z slang? that a fuckin' Pokémon?? what the fuck is this goddamn language?”

he mutters, “both holes—bitch i’d break your entire ribcage.”

tweet #3

@ryomen: sukuna could fold me into a pretty pretzel and do w h a t e v e r he pleases. insanity? maybe. but CAN YOU BLAME ME??? THE GUY HAS F O U R ARMS AND A BELLY MOUTH(!!!) the things i think about this man are so unhinged and amatory. he could slice me apart in his domain and id probably have a big smile plastered on my face before dying. #wanthimlikeoxygenatp

his upper left hand just slowly covers his mouth. “...y’all need fucking help.”

he's silent, blinking like he’s trying to process just how far humanity’s fallen. “amatory?? the fuck is this, a fanfic? you will die. not a ‘smile plastered’—you’ll be in pieces, get that through your thick-ass skull.”

he throws the card down. "and stop romanticizing the fuckin’ belly mouth. it’s for intimidation. not your fuckin’ freak fantasy."

tweet #4

@ssetsuka: Sorry I was staring at your enormous heavy tits, can I carry them for you my king 😼

he freezes. “...i—what the fuck did you just say?”

he looks down at his chest, slowly, like maybe he’s been walking around with D-cups and didn’t know. “enormous… tits?”

he’s genuinely offended now. “TITS?? these are pectoral muscles, you absolute perverted degenerate. what the fuck is wrong with you?” he throws the card. just flings it across the studio.

tweet #5

@yumiyawning: give me the dihs or wtv cupcakke said 👅

“WHAT IS A DIH.” he shouts.

“WHY DOES IT KEEP COMIN’ BACK?? STOP SAYING IT LIKE I’M SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IT MEANS.” he growls like an animal. “and who the fuck is cupcakke."

tweet #6

@kyovy: i know im not cinderella but i know damn well it'll FIT 👅👅👅👅

his eyes narrow. “fit…?”

then realization hits. “…oh you disgusting little shit. you talkin’ bout your—fuckin’ hell.” he rubs a hand down his face, and the lower one clenches into a fist.

“it’s not a damn glass slipper. i’m not Prince Charming. i’m a curse. a mass-murdering, body-snatching, god-killing demon.” a pause. “…also, it won’t fit. you’d probably die. just sayin’.”

tweet #7

@tetsuski: screaming, crying, throwing up and coughing up blood cause I'm not currently in bed with ryomen sukuna confessing his undying love to me as he shows me what that mouth belly can do

“the fuck is with y’all and this mouth.” he points to his abdomen like he’s personally offended it’s become a meme.

“it bites people. it doesn’t sing. it doesn’t do fucking kisses. it eats. you’d be a snack in under five seconds and i wouldn’t even digest you fully outta spite.” he sighs, deep and long. you can tell he’s regretting immortality.

tweet #8

@avietnu: Need his cock to split my whole body in half from my pussy straight up to the top of my head

he stares at the card for a solid ten seconds. no words. just disappointment. “…nah, see.”

he flips it over, reads it again, flips it back. “y’all need to be in chains.”

he holds the card up to the camera. “look at this. look at it. she said ‘from pussy to the top of my head’ like it’s a fuckin’ seam rip. you got a death wish? i got a blade tongue, four arms, and cursed energy that could annihilate cities—AND Y’ALL WANNA FUCK.”

he tosses the card violently behind him. “what is wrong with this generation.”

tweet #9

@longlivegojo: sukuna could call me a slur and I’d write it in cursive on my mirror with lipstick

he immediately stands. just stands. “WE’RE DONE. I’M DONE. I’m packin’ my shit. That’s it. I refuse.”

someone off-camera is howling, but he’s already pacing. “a fuckin’ slur? i got fans out here tryin’ to get verbally abused so they can write it in fuckin’ cursive?! where do you people come from?”

he yanks his mic off, muttering to himself. “fuckin’ lipstick on mirrors… y’all got too much free time. get a fuckin’ job. touch dirt.”

a crew member tries to calm him down. “ryomen, just one more—”

“NO. NO MORE. I CAME HERE OUTTA COURTESY, NOT TO BE SEXUALLY HARASSED BY A FUCKIN’ FANBASE THAT WANTS TO GET RAW DOGGED BY A CURSE WHO CAN REARRANGE TIME AND SPACE.”

a beat. “…and for the love of all that’s holy—STOP SAYING DIH.”

he storms off the set, jacket flapping, one hand still muttering “dih? dih???” while the belly mouth grumbles and snaps at air like it’s pissed too.

viewers later report he did destroy a Starbucks two blocks away out of pure frustration.