#or perhaps sit in his lap

[dxckgrxsonx]

Man splaying right ???

he’s such a dramatic whore. (i love him).

the sheer terror of waking up in the middle of the night because your brain tells you something is wrong. to see the Red Hood himself slouching—correction: manspreading—at the foot of your bed with a fucking book and a gun. i could never sleep soundly again.

but also: 👀👀👀

[hawnks]

soon i will ascend astarion soon i will make him worse soon he will have sexy dialogue SOON

This is so funny because larian is like "ascended Astarion is obv the BAD end" and on the one hand yes that is no environment for him to grow and heal, but also some of us are masochists and "on your knees darling" is 😳

[celestie0]

https://x.com/spookysodaz/status/1801780613998850514?s=46

(Will a twt link work this time? Who knows?)

Anyways LOOK !!!! LOOK AT THIS TALENTED LIKE MAN 🥺🫶🏽 Mr. GTA could absolutely sing this good (⁠=⁠｀⁠ェ⁠´⁠=⁠)

(your choice up to who’s playing guitar) ((ily kickoff gojo but idk if he’s the type to play instruments)) (((idk tho, you wrote the boys, they’re you’re toys to mold whichever way you want :3 )))

omg how CUUUTEE i love little singing kitty 🥺💕 and yes omg kickoff gojo isn’t really the type to play instruments BUT i have decided he has started to play the guitar (bc of the scene in ch8 when they were sharing the hotel bed n reader thought his callouses were from playing the guitar n she was really excited ab it but his callouses were actually from the rockclimbing n she was a lil disappointed ✋🏼😔…yea he may or may not have picked up playing the guitar after that 😃)

[hucklebucket]

Using this image to strengthen my longtime joke theory that Nancy needs glasses.

Ace is walking around in her body like “How does she live like this? I can’t see anything!”

[waloeders]

ive done so many steps today this place is so so busy 😭😭 why is everyone on planet earth here aeuegehgeh

[sttoru]

Sukuna with clingy concubine 🛐🛐 like hella clingy, always clinging to sukuna, sitting on his lap and just following sukuna like a lost puppy

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine! female reader. fluff. little bit suggestive. size difference. reader is clingy, a bit of an airhead ig. reader gets called ‘girl, brat’.

“y’re annoying me, girl,” sukuna grumbles as he walks to the courtyard. you had magically appeared behind him the moment he stepped out of his room to get some fresh air.

you flash him an apologetic smile “i’m sorry, my lord.” you’re not sorry, sukuna knows, though he doesn’t comment on it. it’s been like this ever since a week or two ago. he cannot recall why you’re suddenly so much more affectionate.

he doesn’t wait on you, however, and takes big strides towards the courtyard. if your little legs can’t keep up, that isn’t his problem. you frown and take on the challenge that’s been thrown your way.

you increase your pace and nearly run after sukuna. you have to lift your kimono a little to make sure you wouldn’t trip over the fabric. it doesn’t seem like you’ll give up any time soon as you follow him with that same content expression on your face.

sukuna can’t believe that a human like you dares to even be in his presence for so long. he didn’t call for you, so why are you adamant on staying with him? he concludes that something must be up, “what’d you want from me?”

there hangs a silence between you two afterwards. sukuna’s slow yet heavy footsteps reverberate through the hallway, followed by your quick and light ones. you pout as you notice that the king of curses isn’t even sparing you a glance, “nothing at all. i just like to be with you.”

you add the latter as an afterthought. you don’t expect sukuna to react to that, so you continue to trail behind him into the courtyard. “tch,” you hear him scoff in annoyance. you’re sure he doesn’t mean any actual harm by that, so you don’t take it personally.

sukuna eventually sits down on the engawa, where the servants have placed the comfy zabuton cushions. there’s always one for you as well—right next to sukuna’s. it’s become a habit for the maids to include you in sukuna’s daily routines since you’re always with him.

you eye your own cushion, though don’t make an effort to actually sit down on it. sukuna stares ahead, not bothered to notice you at the moment. you look down at his lap, recalling just how perfectly you can fit on it.

you don’t waste any more time and plop down on his thick thighs, your back against his chest. sukuna’s brow twitches at the sudden contact. his bottom pair of eyes look down at you whilst the upper ones keep looking at the nature in front of you both.

“get off me,” the king of curses commands through a low tone. he doesn’t push you off, however. that alone should tell you enough; he’s tolerating your behaviour as per usual. or perhaps he secretly likes your proximity.

you shall never discover which of the two it actually is.

“nooooooo,” you exaggerate with a whine. you don’t want to. you wrap both of your arms around one of sukuna’s—clinging onto him like your life depends on it. he simply responds by sighing.

you know sukuna’s able to grab you by the collar and force you to sit down on the cushion beside him, but he doesn’t. your heart flutters every time sukuna shows some tolerance to your clingy behavior. it means that maybe—just maybe—he’s opening up to the idea of being more affectionate with you.

“such a fuckin’ brat,” sukuna simply puts one hand on your waist, the others supporting his weight on the engawa. he grumbles, but there are clear signs of him relaxing with you in his presence.

you chuckle at the realisation and swing your legs in excitement. sukuna unexpectedly bites your ear in response to your increased activity on his lap, “stay still or i’ll kick you off.”

you let out a small whimper as you feel his fangs gently sick into your earlobe. you jolt back and rub the skin with your hand, looking up at sukuna with a playful frown before teasing him back. you roll your eyes and answer him with a firm yet mocking, “sir yes, sir!”

sukuna clicks his tongue at your tease. you answer him like he’s some general in the military. that’s not the kind of relationship he has with you—it’s more than that. even though he knows you’re joking, he dislikes it when you call him anything other than ‘my lord’, ‘my king’, or just his name.

he finds great satisfaction in the way you refer to him as such. you’re the only one who can make sukuna grin each time you remind him of his status and the power he has over you.

the power dynamic; it’s addictive.

he needs more of it.

sukuna reaches out to grab your face with one hand, but you’re quick to pull your head back the moment you see that intimidatingly big hand coming down onto your vision. you clear your throat and apologise, “i mean—yes, my lord.”

the king of curses hums in content. that title is exactly what he had been looking for. he retracts his hand and settles it back down on your waist, patting your sides twice to show his satisfaction with your obedience.

you stop squirming around in his lap and simply lay back down in his arms. you close your eyes and nearly fall asleep because of the comfortable atmosphere. the slight breeze against your face is relaxing and perfectly compliments the warmth from sukuna’s body.

what a perfect way to spend your day.

[tender-rosiey]

plsss would u do sukuna taking care of his pregnant wife? like noticing his robes keep disappearing, only to figure out its his wife. or more dad!kuna 🙏🏾

robes — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: me👰‍♀️ ➕ 👹heianera!sukuna

sukuna is a deeply preceptive man.

it’s something he prides himself over, and since he is observant, he quickly notices that his robes start going missing.

in the beginning, he thinks that it’s probably the increased number of bloodied robes because he has been going on a higher number of rampages the past couple of days.

so, he goes to uraume to inquire about why the delivery of his robes has been later than usual.

uraume quickly responds that they have been personally delivering the clean robes to his chambers and ensuring that they are placed where he can clearly see them.

the revelation makes sukuna annoyed because that means that someone has been stealing his robes directly from his chambers.

he is presented with two courses of actions—excluding the option of saving himself the trouble and just killing all the servants: sending uraume to spy on the whole ordeal or investigate it himself.

considering how he has been pretty bored the past couple of days, he decides on the latter. the past few rampages have given a clear warning to the rest of the villages surrounding his castle.

so, with nothing else to do, sukuna takes it upon himself to monitor the main entrance of his chambers to see whether anybody enters the room after uraume places the robes in the room.

so, he situates himself near the room but far away so that they can’t catch him.

he stays there for a good couple of hours, yet he sees no one, not even in the darkness of the night: the supposed prime time for a thief.

perhaps the thief has been made aware of sukuna’s inspection? but that would mean that the robes would still be in the chambers. so, sukuna enters his room in search of his robes, but, to his surprise, he doesn’t find them.

that immediately leads him to concluding that whoever is stealing his robes is someone who has access to the hidden door of his room.

and no one knows about that door except—

“y/n.”

you yelp and slowly turn to your husband. he is standing there, arms crossed, brows furrowed, and an everlasting frown on his face. you have been caught and are in some big trouble.

you don’t falter immediately though. you try to act normal. you smile nervously, “yes, my love? is something bothering you?”

keyword: try.

he repeats your name lowly, and you quickly crumble. you visibly deflate and lower your head as you murmur, “yes…”

he nods in satisfaction before asking the awaited question, “where are my robes?”

your hands rest on your lap, and you fidget with your fingers.

you still can’t figure out what his reaction will be. so far, he is just gathering information. he is giving you nothing to work with, so you have no other option but to comply and just keep answering him.

sighing, you answer him, “my closet.”

he quirks an eyebrow and sits in front of you. his hand is placed on your head, and he raises your head, so you’re looking him in the eyes. it’s something that you have noticed only being done to you.

you had absentmindedly asked your head servant about it, and said servant, uraume, had told you that it’s because he views you as an equal and does not take pleasure in your fear and acting inferior to him.

and in the end, sukuna only does what pleases him. if it doesn’t please him then why do it?

he hums as if in thought before egging you on, “and why are my robes in your closet? in fact—” he smirks, eyes observing your frame, “why are you currently wearing my robes?”

you pull the robes tighter around yourself, and you purse your lips. sukuna wants an answer right now, and while he is enjoying your ‘suffering’, he also wants to know what’s wrong.

if there is anything that he hates then it’s not knowing, especially if it’s something about you, his very pregnant wife.

his hand travels to your jaw, and he grips it lightly.

“so?” he says as he tilts your head to the slide slightly.

“you…have been gone for longer than usual lately, and I have been missing you,” you admit softly as you try your best to maintain eye contact, but you end up looking away.

he is still silent, so you continue laying out your reasoning, “and for some reason, the robes alleviate the pregnancy pain. I couldn’t find any logical or scientific reason, but I think—

—it’s because the robes are filled with your cursed energy, maybe acting as a kind of assurance to the baby that you are beside us even if you aren’t.”

he doesn’t grace you with any reaction nor reply for quite a while, and it makes you think that he is probably thinking about how foolish the entire scenario is.

so, you add hesitantly, “or something like that…”

after a moment, though, he sighs and simply says, “you could’ve just asked me, you foolish woman.”

you blink confused, “and you, my ‘no one takes what’s mine’ husband, would’ve allowed that?”

“you, idiot, are mine, so my belongings are yours anyway,” he states, and his hands rest on your stomach, “this is mine too, so you have to take good care of it.”

a smile takes over your face, and you nod happily, “of course, I will!”

you pause for a second, and it has sukuna confused.

you frown and you point your finger at him while reprimanding him, “and don’t call me an idiot, mister! I am your wife, and I am blessed with a good name.”

a pinch is delivered to your butt which makes you shriek. you jump away from your husband and start rubbing the spot in attempt to soothe it.

sukuna smiles wickedly before suggesting, “how about I help you with that?”

“no! keep your hands off of me, you brute!”

he chuckles, and it echoes throughout the room. it’s kind of creepy. you always said that you wanted to add more furniture to avoid that situation.

you start thinking about the new design for the room when your husband speaks up, “and regarding my absence the past few of days.”

you turn your head to him, and he continues, “I will be putting my plans on pause for a while, so you don’t have to resort to the robes for the time.”

he turns his back to you before announcing, “I am expecting you at dinner and later in my chamber. is that clear?”

you feel giddiness fill you up, and you reply enthusiastically, “yes, my king!”

“good,” he smirks.

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[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.

[scorpiosbite]

when drew watched actress!reader’s sex scene for the first time

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── drew’s been binging game of thrones ever since that fateful day madelyn forced him to watch the show, what was meant to be a normal binge session turns into him being the horniest he’s ever been. making the anticipation of meeting you even heavier.

𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey

author’s note: this takes place during the filming of obx 4, before madelyn informed the obx cast that they were going to meet you when you came to LA.

drew could not tear his eyes away from the screen of the tv in his moroccan hotel room. he thought that after watching game of thrones consistently, now nearing the end of the first season he would become accustomed to see you in costume, but every time you came onto the screen his breath was taken away. seeing you in that the sliver waist length wig that looked like it was your real hair, the sheer fabric floor length dresses with the daring cuts that exposed more and more of your soft skin, and the intricate dornish jewellery with the subtle targaryen detailing made him feel like a teenager once again with how quickly his pants tightened. and it wasn’t only how you looked, it was also your performance. you were an astonishing actress, he would forget that you weren’t actually visenya in real life, that this world didn’t actually exist and that you were just acting. he was so captivated by you.

“the last dragon, that’s who you are visenya, the last targaryen left in the world, perhaps if you favoured your mother in looks, you would escape the pressures of the targaryen name, but you do not, you look just like rhaegar only with the tanned skin of elia.” you rolled your eyes and drew felt his heart jump. surrounded by the hanging gardens of sunspear in dorne, you paced with aggression, your sliver hair swishing behind you, your dress billowing as you stared down your costar. “have you come to lecture me of my responsibilities as the last targaryen, jaime? all while your bastard son sits my throne? and your sister puppets him from behind.”

“we are only married because your father knew that once i take back my throne i will come after the lannisters for your family’s hand in my mother and brother’s murders. he thought that if we were married that i would not harm you and your name would live on through my womb. but i am no fool, targaryen women have been known to kill their husbands, who is to say my coin wasn’t flipped on the side of madness. that is the saying is it not? when a targaryen is born the gods flip a coin, greatness or madness.” you now stood face to face with the man, staring him down with a smug expression and drew was once again struck with your talent as an actress, your body displayed the anger and frustration that your character felt despite the facade of arrogance on your face. then suddenly your lips connected with his, the actor who played jaime slid his hand around your waist, the cuts of your dress allowing him to touch your bare skin, your hands went to his hair and drew had never felt so jealous of another man.

jaime picked you up with ease, walking backwards to a chair sitting down with you spread on his lap, and drew thought that he would do anything to have you like that. the camera filmed you from the back, jaime’s hand caressing your exposed back down to your ass, and drew squeezed the covers of his bed in response. the camera cut to a mid shot of both of you from the side, you broke the kiss your face still so close to his, lips brushing together as you spoke in a hushed tone. “i want you to fuck me, jaime.” drew groaned at the lust in your voice, and wondered if that was what you sounded like in real life. jaime’s actor groaned in response to your statement and drew felt sympathy for the man, because he knew that if he was in that position instead of him he would be unable to stop himself from cumming in his pants, professionalism be fucked.

jaime’s hands trailed to the back of your neck and the camera cut to back to the shot of your back, closing up on his hands as his hands pulled at the strings holding your flimsy dress together the camera seemed like it was handheld making the shot feel all the more intimate, the material fell and jaime tugged the dress off of you leaving you completely bare but drew could only see your back and up, but then, the camera cut to a wide shot, and drew gasped as your entire body from the back was exposed. jaime’s hand coming down to squeeze the supple flesh of your ass and drew felt his cock harden at the sight. the camera cut to an over the shoulder shot from jaime and your bare chest came into view, this time drew couldn’t stop the moan that escaped him, your hands tugged at the strings of jaime’s pants although the camera kept on you, your hands out of the shot.

you sank down on jaime’s cock and a whine-like moan escaped you, drew felt like he was going insane, he couldn’t stop himself as he tugged his boxers down, his hard cock springing up to slap against his stomach. his hand wrapping around the thick length, squeezing, pearly beads of pre cum leaking out. drew flicked his eyes back up to the screen and you had your head thrown back as you bounced on jaime’s cock, drew knew that the pleasure on your scrunched up face was fake, that the melodious moans that were escaping your pretty lips that were hung open were fake, but the way your tits were bouncing was real and drew couldn’t stop himself from tugging his cock in time with the movements of your hips, your head tilted back down to gaze down at jaime your eyes so fucked out and drew wished that it was him you were looking at. that it was him that could run his hands all over you.

you spoke breathlessly “targaryens used to feed their enemies to their dragons, i don’t have a dragon yet, perhaps i shall just eat you myself, husband.” jaime groaned in response, connecting your lips back together and drew sped up his movements his hand stroking with fervour, the squelching sounds echoing through the room, his other hand coming down to squeeze at his balls, his eyes still glued to you on the tv. drew was close he could feel it and as your body shuddered and you collapsed into jaime’s lap, drew came with a deep groan. cumming all over his chest and stomach. drew threw his head back against his headboard, he felt just a little bit pathetic, that he didn’t have the courage to message you but he could jack off to you doing your job, but god what he would give to have you like that.

TAGLIST: @sunnybunnyy2 @percysley @wearemadeofstardust0 @idgasb @pinkpantheris @emmaaas-posts @grace-sully @chimmysoftpaws

you guys are not believe the fucking writers block i suffered while writing this for it just to turn out so shit but nevertheless I hope you enjoyed!

[bunnis-monsters]

i need more abt peacock hybrids I LOVE HIMM

He’s been hanging around your bakery nearly every day since you rejected him, his tail feathers flicking and wanting to present themselves to you… but he stops himself.

He waits, watching you as you serve customers and go about your day. You’re kind, always giving even the nastiest of people a warm smile when you hang them their order.

And now he’s wondering how many of the smiles you have him were fake. Could he blame you? After all, he had been such an asshole, always taking up your time and being demanding…

It was clear you are way out of his league, but still he wants you desperately.

So he continues taking note of every little thing, from the way your eyes light up when you bite into a free donut after a long day, or how you laugh at your stupid male coworker he hates…

He’s in love with you, that’s for certain… but how will he ever win you over when he’s made such a fool of himself? It would have been so easy to just present his feathers in front of a fertile female, but no, he had to fall in love with you…

The peacock hybrid sits outside of the bakery, sulking as he stares at the ground. Perhaps he’d never get to have you. It wasn’t fair to wait around and bother you forever, so he got up and was ready to leave when you walked out the door.

“You’re still out here sulking?”

You walk out, carrying a brown paper bag. He looks up in surprise when you drop the bag in his lap.

“Here…”

You look away, your face slightly warm as you begin walking home. “It’s on the house…”

He stares at the small paper bag in his hand, his eyes wide. Was this… a courting gift?

His feathers flicked as he stood, his mind in a daze as he followed after you.

Maybe he had a chance after all…

It wasn’t long before he walked you home every day after work, acting as a protective mate would when anyone approached. He’d shake his feathers out in a defensive display, keeping you safe.

The best day of his life was when you finally invited him in your home and he got to mate you for the first time…

It was a cold evening, and he had been waiting outside for an hour, ready to walk you home. When you saw him shivering, you knew that he had changed.

Though he could still be selfish and arrogant, it was clear he truly cared for you.

“You’re cold, aren’t you? Come on, I’ll make you something warm.”

But it seemed he didn’t want to eat anything you could make him. No, the second he was in your house you were lifted up onto the nearest surface and your thighs were pried apart. He couldn’t stand it, he needed to taste you…

Your pussy was so plump and warm, the taste almost sweet. He looked up at you with eyes dazed from lust, his tongue fucking into your dripping cunt.

He loved you, wanted to prove he was a proper mate, so he made sure to bring you to several orgasm before he even fathomed pushing his cock into you.

The tip was oozing precum, rubbing against your hole as his feathers shook out. They really were pretty, and his cock stretched you out as he pushed in.

His feathers were soft, and you held onto them as he mated with you, his face burying itself into your neck. This is what he had wanted for so long…

After shooting thick ropes of cum inside of you, he carried you away and made you a comfy nest of blanket and pillows before using his feathers as a cover for you.

“I love you… please, be my mate…”

You yawned, a smile on your face. He looked vulnerable, his plumage puffing out slightly in anticipation.

“Okay…”

His eyes lit up, but he yelped when you plucked one of his feathers. “I’ll take this as my wedding ring…”

And the next day he couldn’t be prouder, seeing you with his feather pinned to your apron.

Want more of this guy? Commission me :3

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko

[plutotheplum]

ᡣ𐭩 caleb | dog tags ᡣ𐭩

cw: masturbation, p in v, possessiveness

caleb’s dog tags are precious to him. 

perhaps not as precious as you, but he considers them to be a close second. there’s pride embedded into the silver metal. he’s worked his ass off, becoming one of the best for the DAA didn’t come easy. 

it’s all the more worth it when he sees you, however, his laugh morphing into a grunt as you barrel towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and clinging to him. caleb’s actions are second-nature to him now, spinning you around as he hoists you up into his arms and presses his face into the crook of your neck, nuzzling into the warmth. he’s missed you.

caleb can feel the way you fiddle with the chain of his dog tags when he sets you down onto your feet, you’ve always been strangely enamoured by them. it doesn’t seem to help when you rock up onto the tips of your toes and press a gentle kiss to the metal as though it’s been somehow keeping him safe.

caleb’s bided his time for years now, and with every passing day he can feel his control slipping, his heart aching at the sight of you and the ever-pressing urge to just cup your cheeks and kiss you. but he cares for you more than anything, so he bottles it up inside and excuses himself under the guise of needing a shower.

his cock is hard and throbbing and the dog tags around his neck do little to calm his rampant heart rate, his hand wrapping around his cock and squeezing. caleb muffles his groans, although he’s sure you can’t hear him over the rush of water.

he pumps himself over and over, and somehow his dog tags end up in his mouth, his teeth gritting against the metal as he imagines you on your knees in front of him. it’s terrible really, the way caleb thinks of you, but he can’t help himself when he sees your wide, innocent eyes and fuck- he’s grown up with you but there’s an urgent need inside of him to be yours.

maybe you’d let him, he thinks, brows knitting together as he imagines you pressing up against him, whining for kisses as he helps you sink down his cock. sure, caleb’s cock is a little thick, but he likes that, wants to see your little pussy stretch out as he presses it into you. he’d teach you to ride him, whisper sweet praises as he guides your hips and you’d surely dig your nails into him and it’s enough to make him cum, his breaths ragged as he presses his forehead against the wet tiles and comes down from his orgasm.

caleb’s smile is back when he returns, his arms wrapping around you as you snuggle up to him, your sides flush together. he rubs your side soothingly as you ramble about mundane little things - until you lower your voice and whisper to him like it’s a secret.

i heard you in the shower, caleb.

his cheeks are hot with embarrassment, gaze downcast as shame washes over him. caleb’s mouth opens and shuts, an apology sitting on the tip of his tongue but when he opens his mouth again, you’re already clambering up onto his lap like an unruly puppy, your fingers hooking into his dog tags to tug him closer. he breathes out a protest, but you’re stubborn, so stubborn, pulling him closer to slot your lips over his and kiss him feverishly.

fuck, caleb curses in his mind, he wanted to be the one to kiss you. 

not that he can dwell on the shortcoming, not when you’re pulling at his shirt needily and sighing into your mouth like this is what you’ve always wanted. caleb nearly cums when you yank him closer by the chain of his dog tags when he strays too far from your lips. 

he squeezes the fat of your ass, large hands grabbing at anything and everything, his hand coming down on your ass. caleb smiles against your lips when you squeak, pulling his shirt over his head quickly while you’re distracted. he likes the way you look at him, the way you trace your fingers over the dips and ridges of his abdomen, the way you dip your head to kiss his pec, right over his heart. if he could brand your name into his skin, he would.

his head tips back when he feels your hand wrap around his cock, a loud groan leaving him, his hips bucking under your touch. when he finds your eyes again, he can hardly believe that the girl he’s liked- no, loved, for years is here, stroking his cock sweetly like the pretty, little thing you are.

caleb thinks you like it, the feel of cool metal slipping and sliding across your skin as he laves his tongue over your hardened nipples, pressing his hand against your back firmly to suck your breast into his mouth. caleb likes the sounds you make, the little whimpers and whines, his cock throbbing whenever you paw at his broad shoulders as he bites down on your nipples with measured care.

he helps you sink down on his cock later, and maybe dreams do come true because your pussy is stretched out, your fingers clinging to him tightly as he bullies his cock into you. caleb can’t hide his appreciation for you, hands squeezing at your hips, thighs, breasts, his lips peppering kisses across your sternum as he grabs your ass and makes you move against him.

it’s not enough, despite the intoxicating sway of your hips that has him biting your shoulder, his eyes half-lidded. caleb wants to see you under him. he rolls his hips when he lays you down, his dog tags dangling down in your face.

his eyes roll back when he sees you lean up, your teeth latching onto the dog tags, sucking them into your mouth. caleb’s hips pick up speed and he’s grabbing your thighs, pushing them up to pound faster and deeper, with enough force that the bed frame has begun to shake.

caleb can feel the burn of his chain against his skin when you tug him down again, throwing your arms around his neck as you kiss him, legs squeezing around his hips in a daze. the tight clench of your cunt has him moaning, his head dropping forward, lips pressing against your forehead. 

“i love you,” caleb rasps, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close. “fuck- sweetheart, i love you.”

you whine, clinging to him as he pulls you up into his lap again, face pressing into the crook of his neck. your voice is a soft hiccup, fingers running through his hair. 

“i love you too, caleb.”

caleb shudders at the words, his hands holding you down flush against his hips as his cock throbs and kicks, thick, hot cum spilling inside of you. he holds you tightly when you twitch, kissing your forehead and cheeks and every bit of skin he can reach, fingers squeezing at your sides soothingly.

“you mean it, pipsqueak?”

you let out a breathless laugh, swatting his shoulder. “stop calling me that,” you pout, kissing his cheek, “and yes, i mean it.”

caleb hums, a satisfied smile settling on his face. he helps you get ready for bed, trailing kisses along your neck as you brush your teeth, his palms warm against your stomach as he caresses you under your shirt.

he holds you close when you snuggle up in bed, stroking your hair gently as you press your face into his chest, letting out a contented sigh. something uncomfortable settles in his chest when he sees your phone light up with a text from zayne after you’ve fallen asleep.

caleb doesn’t like that. 

he stares down at your sleeping form, your face peaceful and soft in the dim light. no, he thinks, zayne can’t have you.

caleb’s waited years, and he’s not prepared to give you up so easily.

you’re his now.

[lyrefromthesea]

Please can I request pre-relationship hashira x hashira!reader, where they are sparing together and it becomes a bit suggestive 💙💙

Male pillars x reader - Sparing with benefits

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu , reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: suggestiveness

Tengen:

"you could just give up, there's no chance you could win against my flamboyant self!" he taunted, running around the courtyard with you.

you had been fighting for ten minutes and there was still no end in sight. you weren't a bad fighter, you've been promoted as a hashira some time ago, but Tengen was at advantage right now.

he was faster than you. he had been saving himself from your attacks by avoiding them every time. the smirk on his face only spurred you on more, wanting to win this fight and show him that you were a good fighter.

however, when you raised your bamboo sword for an attack and he turned around to dodge it, you felt yourself trip on a root. it had been sticking out of the ground, making you fall over.

surprised by what has happened, Tengen lost his own halt and fell backwards, landing in a sitting position. you felt yourself fall onto him, at least partly.

when you checked your surroundings, you found your head on his lap. your cheek pressed against his groin. meeting his gaze, you could see his cocky smirk.

"it was an accident! i didn't mean to.." you said, wanting to stand up instantly. this would definitely look wrong from an outsider's perspective.

when you tried to stand up, you felt his hand tangle in your hair, pressing your cheek a bit more against his groin, only satisfied when you felt the bulge against your skin.

"just so you know, my wives had always found you cute enough for this.." he teased, his eyes staying on your widened eyes.

you pushed away, running away from his grip and off the training field.

Obanai:

he was proud of you for becoming a hashira. when he took you in as his tsuguko, he wasn't sure if he made the right decision, but he was sure now.

you were able to follow his movements, dodge his attacks and even make some of your own. your elegance captivated him and he found himself admiring your fighting style.

perhaps he had been diving in his thoughts too much, because when his attention was finally back on you, he was already on the ground.

your legs were on either side of him, straddling his body. heterochromic eyes were staring deeply into yours, surprised by the sudden turn of events.

"i win, Obanai." you said, looking down at the man. your hands were resting on his chest, leaning forward slightly.

his heartbeat was increasing under your hands, cheeks flushing. it wasn't the first time he noticed how beautiful you were, but your allure only increased like this.

"you.. you do.." he muttered, not being able to turn his eyes away from you. yet again, neither were you. you leaned down further, remaining with your faces only a few inches apart.

it would've been so easy to kiss him right now. however, feeling your hips rub against his groin, he couldn't stop his body from reacting, his hands gripping your waist.

"[name], g- get down.."

Rengoku:

"flame breathing. third form: blazing universe!" he called out, his bamboo sword coming at you with immense speed. you barely managed to block his attack - meaning you didn't do it.

your body flew a few feet away, landing on the ground. with a quiet grunt, you turned onto your back. "i give up.." you sighed.

however, there was no audible reaction from Rengoku. turning your head towards him, you wanted to know what's wrong, only to see his wide eyes staring.

he shook his head, running towards you and kneeling down. "are.. are you okay?" he asked, seeing you nod. he didn't respond, as if he knew something you didn't.

"just tell me, Rengoku!" you pleaded, feeling yourself enter a state of panic. did you lose a leg? it wasn't like him to behave this way.

he moved his hand closer, placing his hand against the side of your stomach. your eyes widened, looking down at yourself, staring at your torn uniform.

not only the right side of your shirt, but also the entirety of your right pant leg was missing. you instantly sat up, trying to cover up.

"i didn't know, i will-" you tried excusing yourself, but fell silent when he squeezed your waist slightly, attention moving back to him.

"i'll bring you back." he answered, taking off his haori and pulling it over your form. it didn't help covering your leg, but at least your upper body looked a bit more presentable.

he scooped you into his arms, both your legs around his waist. you rested your chin on his shoulder, wishing to disappear. the whole situation was embarrassing, and even worse, you had felt warm when he touched your skin unhindered.

his hand held you up by your thighs, his grip on your right thigh a bit stronger. you could feel his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your leg, glancing up at him.

"you.. you're really soft." he quietly said, not able to hide his red face from you.

perhaps the whole situations had it's advantages.

Sanemi:

"stop running! just admit defeat!" he shouted after you, determined to get this fight over with. the only problem: you were extremely fast. you managed to dodge his attacks every time.

"never!" you answered, seeing him try to attack again. you were ready to dodge his bamboo sword, but were shocked to see him drop it mid-attack.

his hand shot towards you instead, quite literally knocking you down with his harsh hit. your back made contact with the ground, Sanemi tackling you down immediately.

"i win." he said, smirking at your defeated form. you tried freeing yourself, not able to push up with his hand on your neck.

"i didn't give up yet." you huffed out, feeling him squeezing your throat lightly - he was warning you. only that his warning didn't work as intended.

a quiet whimper escaped your lips, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment. he had heard the sound, you knew it.

"oh? didn't know you were into the rough treatment." he smirked - teased. your reaction was immediate, pressing your knee up and right against his crotch.

he groaned, letting go of you. he clearly hadn't expected you to do that, especially not after you pushed him away and freed yourself.

"didn't know you were into that, Shinazugawa."

"you-"

naturally, another fight started right after.

Giyuu:

how did this happen? thirty minutes of fighting just for your bamboo sword to be kicked to the side by him. he had been too fast for you, leaving you unable to react.

your back was pressed against the wall, wide eyes staring into his. he had caged you between the wall and his body, his form towering over you.

ocean eyes were deeply staring into yours, his hand pressing against the wall behind you. he couldn't tear his gaze away from your body, not when you were presented right in front of him.

"you lost." he stated, as if it wasn't obvious to the both of you. his eyes narrowed, his other hand moving towards you.

"if this had been a fight with a demon, you would've died." he said, making you feel like prey under his eyes. he placed his hand on your chin, thumb nearly grazing your lips.

"don't lose focus." he uttered, but his eyes had long broken their contact with yours. he was watching your lips instead, as if he was debating on a kiss.

"i wont." you answered breathlessly, getting his attention back on you. he let go of your chin, stepping away and picking up your sword.

"let's try it out." he taunted, neither of you really focusing on winning or losing now.

Gyomei:

this fight was unfair to begin with. without a doubt, you were one of the strongest swordsman in the corps. you've served as a hashira for three years now, but no one could win against Gyomei.

naturally, you admitted defeat when he threw you over half the lake, immediately asking whether you're fine or not.

your head broke through the water, gasping for air. the water was freezing cold, but you told him you're fine.

he still made the effort to help you out of the water, drenching his own clothes in the freezing liquid.

"are you sure you're okay?" he asked, big tears already rolling down his face again. you avoided your eyes from his form, not trying to appear inappropriate.

"i'm fine." you answered, looking at your own body. both of your clothes were quite see-through, giving you a greedy sight of his muscles and abs.

looking down at yourself, your clothes weren't any better. you thought of yourself as lucky, not wanting to live with the shame of letting him see so much of your body.

"come, it's freezing in here." he told you, pulling you into his arms and out of the water as he made his way out of it.

what you didn't know, was how his fingers could feel everything that you were seeing. your clothes stuck to your skin, not leaving much room for imagination.

he stepped out of the water, but instead of letting you down, his head tilted towards yours, foreheads nearly touching.

his hands squeezed your body, millions of thoughts running through his head. "you're.." he said, but he stopped, not wanting to do something he might regret later.

"you're still wet, we should get some dry clothes.." he told you instead, putting you down again, his hand sliding against your curves for a moment.

you watched him walk forward, your lips parted. was it wrong that you had hoped for him to continue?

[alastorss]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor's antlers are embarrassingly, pathetically, unbearably sensitive.

He can't for the life of him figure out why—it's not like any of the other transfigured creatures wandering around the underworld were made this way. Most other animal-like sinners don't seem to care about or even acknowledge their characteristics.

Yet here he is, purposefully hiding them away just so that no one will discover his terrible weakness. Oh, what he would give to be like the others if only to ignore their incessantly uncomfortable presence on his head.

Perhaps it was a curse from heaven that made him this way, or karma that he was repaying from his life. Either way, he can't stand being touched.

At least, that's what he thought.

There's no malicious intent behind your hands, no glint in your eye that makes the primal instincts in his head scream at him to melt into the shadows. You're as gentle as can be, fingers running delicately along the intricacies of his antlers and stopping just at the ends of them.

"They're beautiful," you whisper with your eyes blown wide. Your shoulders rise and fall with each rapid breath, probably from the adrenaline of standing so close to an Overlord like this. And Alastor, no less.

Your reliable hotelier. Your first real friend in the hotel. The one whose smile cannot be trusted.

But for some reason, you can't shake the feeling that he's looking at you with pure, genuine appreciation even if his smile is a little wonky.

"Why, thank you, darling!"

He jerks away from you quick as the wind, standing tall once again and towering over you. His expression has morphed into something more strained—you can tell by the way his face creases up as his eyes narrow.

He was the one who decided to invade your personal space while the two of you were arguing. He just didn't think that you would be so bold as to get distracted by his antlers and have the gall to reach out to touch them.

The worst part? The absolute worst part of it all is that no one in all the time he's been in Hell has been gentle with him like that.

Add that to the list of things he despises. Or likes. You're confusing him now.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You have some nerve, he thinks.

Your hands have found a new home resting atop his head, with your fingers combing through his hair and tracing up and down the curve of his antlers.

It becomes a nightly routine—him on the barstool or sitting in front of the piano and you standing behind him with your fingers tangled in his hair and your chin on his head, perched right between the horns. Others in the hotel have started to raise a brow, but you don't seem to care.

So when you finally decide to break routine, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from him, his eye twitches.

There isn't even an audience tonight, everyone else already tucked into bed save for Husk behind the bar who's too busy with a bottle to care. The silence between you is heavy as lead.

"Is something the matter?" Alastor finally abruptly asks, eyes narrowed at you from the side. You shift uncomfortably.

"Why would something be the matter?"

He's not in the mood for games right now. "This is the first time you've sat away from me in months," he observes.

You look at him, surprised by his hostility over this. "Well, Lucifer told me that you don't like—"

"Lucifer," he interrupts, head now whipping to the side so he can fully glare at you. "Knows nothing."

You blink at him, stunned. With the way he's acting, he almost seems... annoyed that you've decided to stop being so handsy?

Silence overcomes you again as you just stare at each other, completely at a loss of words. Alastor finally realizes his snappiness and composes himself once more, exhaling through his teeth.

His smile softens at you, missing its usual edge. You know him like this the best—head in your lap and antlers exposed. It's familiar to you in a way that it could never be to anyone else. At least, you hope that's true.

"He knows nothing," the radio demon says one more time for good measure, eyes drifting shut under the weight of your hands.

Alastor has never liked to be touched before. But maybe there is a first time for everything, and maybe the safety of your touch brings him enough ease that you're the first he admits he can tolerate.

His smile says it all. He's content like this, even if he would deny it with his chest if you ever told anyone else.

"Okay," you breathe. "I believe you."

[entitled-fangirl]

Direwolf.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan's direwolf is spoiled by the reader.

A/n: Based on ask! Also I'm running a fever, so I'm praying this makes sense

Masterlist

.....................................

"Perhaps it was an idiotic thought from the start," Cregan mutters as he views the sight before him. 

His sweet wife sat on the ground of the dining hall, lavishing their dire wolf in affection. 

Well, Cregan's direwolf.

Well, it was supposed to be Cregan's. 

He had found the wolf not long before he became the Lord of Winterfell. Now, after almost seven years with the animal, their bond was inseparable. 

So when Cregan's wife joined the mix, Cregan was nervous.

But she had a love for Dark Night, as did the large beast for her. 

"I find it sweet," the Maester said with a light smile. "It is important the two get along, isn't it? Better than fighting for your attention, I'd wager."

"That's the thing," Cregan sighed. "Neither of them needs my attention. They're content on their own."

The maester chuckled, looking at the sight of the woman and wolf before excusing himself.

Cregan walked to the pair, holding his hand out to his wife. "C'mon, sweet girl."

Y/n looked up with a smile and took his hand, brushing off dust from her skirt as she did so. 

Dark Night let out a low coo, sitting up and nuzzling at her thigh.

"Seems I'll have to fight for even a moment with you," Cregan smiled as he tucked his face into her neck.

She let out a soft giggle. "Don't be so upset, Cregan. You know you always have my heart."

He chuckled with her, pulling away and leading her to the dining table, pulling out her chair before sitting across from her. 

The two talked of mundane things as usual: their day, the problems of the North, ideas they had, anything and everything. 

Finally, Cregan tilted his head with a furrowed brow. "What are you doing?"

She looked at him with wide eyes, as if caught in a horrid lie. "N…nothing."

He simply stared, his hands resting atop the table. "Are you feeding Dark Night under the table?"

She reaches to pick something off of her plate, lowering it below the table. "No?"

He leaned back in his chair with an incredulous look and a chuckle, "You little minx. He eats enough, you know that."

"Well, yes, but," she gave a shrug. "He just looks at me so pitifully, I cannot say no."

She reached up to grab more, but Cregan stopped her, "Don't."

She paused, "Cregan-"

"-Do not spoil that damn dog. He is fine."

Before long, Dark Night's large head weighed down on Cregan's lap from under the table, a longing look in the animal's eyes. 

Cregan looked down at him with a tight lip and a shaking head, "Your methods may work on our sweet girl, but you will get nothing from me."

The wolf nuzzled in more, trying to get Cregan's attention still. 

Finally, Cregan waved his hand out at the wolf, "Get. Go on. You have already been fed today."

Dark Night accepted the defeat and left the dining hall, an obvious annoyance in the way he walked. 

"Now," Cregan sighed. "Let us try to speak again."

…

A few hours later, Cregan entered their chambers in pure exhaustion. 

The day had been longer than he had hoped, and he wanted nothing more than time with his wife.

Seeing her curled up on the sofa next to the fireplace warmed something inside of him. 

He came from behind, leaning down to place a kiss on the crown of her head. 

She hummed, looking up from her book. "Hello, lovely."

A small whine sounded in the room.

Cregan's brow furrowed as he scanned the room for his wolf. 

"Why is he on the bed?"

She leaned forward, looking over her shoulder to see that the wolf had indeed found a comfortable place on their bed. She shrugged, "He was there when I got here. I didn't have the heart to move him."

Cregan gripped her shoulders from behind, gently massaging them. "I've had this wolf years, and never has he even been allowed the notion that being upon the bed was allowed."

She smiled as she looked over her shoulder at Cregan this time, "He's been so wonderful today. Let him stay."

He leaned down to her ear, a teasing smile across his face, "Why should I?"

She let out a hum. "Please, Cregan."

"Please what?" He teased.

Her head leaned back against the back of the sofa, "You know what you're doing, Lord Stark."

He smirked, leaning up and moving to the bed, "Up."

Dark Night lifted his head to look at Cregan.

Y/n immediately gets off of the couch, "Cregan."

"I mean it," he complains. "That dog cannot run this castle." 

"He's not," she comes as she moved to Dark Night, petting his fur.

"My love, he-" Cregan froze completely, eyeing the dog. "A collar? You've bought him a collar?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Perhaps."

Cregan crosses his arms, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as he bit the inside of his cheek in thought. "Gods, you're gonna be the death of me."

"He's being so sweet, Cregan. Look at him!"

Cregan looked down, seeing his sweet wife practically laying on the large animal.

He shook his head, a large smile coming across his face. "As long as there is still room for your husband."

"Oh, always, Cregan."

…

Cregan woke up in the night, pulling at the blanket that would not move. He leaned up on his elbows, seeing the giant dire wolf that laid on his wife's feet, holding the blanket down underneath him. 

Cregan heaved a great sigh, but inside, he really didn't mind.

He was glad the two greatest things in his life cared for each other. It made his occasional absence to the Wall less guilt wracked. 

He knew they'd keep each other warm until he came back.

.....................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath, @yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

[tarrynightss]

Thinking about being Sukuna’s favorite concubine…

He gives you special treatment, being far more lenient with you than the others. You want a luxury bath? You’ll get it. Want to have a night to yourself? He’ll consider it if you’re extra good to him today. He’ll even forgive that smart mouth of yours for speaking out of turn.

He’ll shower you in finery; clothes, hairpins, exotic fruits. He likes rewarding you with something that makes your eyes go wide and gleam with interest like you’re a little crow. It’s also to show off that you’re his favorite, everything on you marking his possession over you.

He’ll keep you on his lap as he sits on his throne, one arm always snuggly wound around your waist. It’s all about showing off his power and fertility to whoever visits him of course, but you get to be the one he does it with. You are the one to be shown off, to be remembered by whoever makes it out of a visit with Sukuna alive.

He normally doesn’t allow his concubines to sleep next to him, it being far more of a hassle than he usually finds it worth it, but he makes an exception for you. It’s not always, of course, but most nights after he calls on you (which is a lot) he’ll draw you against his body and hold you for his own comfort.

He’s more tender with you. Like mentioned before wrapping you in his arms to sleep, or letting you press a gentle kiss to his mouth. Not every touch you share with him is dirty, which is quite unique with Sukuna.

He’ll overwork you. You are his favorite, his most desired one, so be prepared to get fucked till your holes feel raw and your walk is messed up. He just wants you all of the time, making sure you are always bare under your kimono so he can flip it up and take you whenever he pleases. Perhaps if you beg him very, very sweetly not to use one of your sore holes, he’ll agree to use another, just because it’s you, because he’s such a kind master.

He’ll cum inside you. It’s not a privilege exclusively reserved for you per se, but he tries to avoid it with the others. He has had no interest in having children, so it’s a real hassle when one of his women falls pregnant. The fallout is never pleasant, to say the least. But you… well, clearly you have something special to have captured his interest. Maybe it’s your beauty, or your intelligence, or maybe you carry some tremendous cursed energy. Something made him like you best, and that something makes him wonder that maybe, if he is to create a legacy for himself, then you should be the one to help him with that. The change is not spoken about, you quickly enough finding out that Sukuna never pulls out of you anymore, keeping his cock inside you afterwards and fucking his cum even deeper. It’s only when you’re clearly sick with worry about him ditching you (of worse) if you get pregnant that he tells you his thoughts. You happily accept your role of course, just as he knew you would.

His favorite, his precious little jewel

Find part 2 here

[konigsblog]

simon riley with a voice kink for you...

he absolutely loses it when you're talking to him on the phone about whatever; maybe something related to your friends, that they done something really funny, perhaps you're just checking on him, gradually getting suspicious of his voice as it turns more aggressive, desperate, deranged and higher. he's so fucking hard, listening to you ramble, and ramble for hours whilst he teases his sensitive tip, smearing pearly beads of cum over his dick as he drags out his growing orgasm.

don't ask him why he sounds nervous and shakey, beginning to get more hoarse, otherwise he'll cum all over his phone and all over his calloused fingers ...

when you're finally home, you learn more about this fantasy to do with your voice. sitting on his lap, jerking his big, fat cock off while speaking to him and that soft voice. it makes him feel even hotter when you're nonchalant, paying no mind as you pump and stroke him at an agonisingly slow pace.

he's not even submissive during this, just aggressive and hot, a smirk on his face when he throws his head back, your lips sucking hickeys and pressing kisses into his throat, speaking between kisses... :(

god, dollface... look at the things you're doing to him. leaving him a complete, utter mess as he spurts thick cum all over his chest and muscular abdomen, twitching in your hand when you giggle about his sensitivity.