#true form sukuna

[ratherchili]

𖹭 cw: fluff, suggestive, mdni

Ryomen Sukuna looks down at you from beneath furrowed brows as you kiss the corner of his tummy mouth. Even those auxiliary lips are drawn tight in a scowl.

"You waste your kisses there? Of all the things you could do with your mouth, this is what you choose?"

"Does it not please you, my lord?" You ask, feining an innocence that does not quite match the mischievous gleam in your eyes.

He only huffs in response, watching with gaurded interest as you trace the seam of his second mouth with your tongue. The tip of the thick, pink muscle inside - which seems to have a mind of it's own, at times - protrudes, drawn out by your attentions.

"Enough," he growls when you latch onto it, hollowing your cheeks as you attempt to draw at least part of the oversized tongue between your lips. You laugh as he drags you up to face him.

"Strange creature," he says, his voice soft, although he still frowns. One pair of hands clutch at your waist while the other cradles the back of your head as the king of curses urges you forward, pressing your soft mouth against his, the correct one, this time.

[ilovemahito]

the world will not be ready for the person i will become once true form sukuna gets animated

[velvetghoul]

Four Hands, One Problem

✦ oneshot

Reader x True Form Sukuna | 18+ MDNI

cw: bratty reader, bratty Sukuna, full-blown argument into filthy tension, smut with emotional undertones, physical teasing, mention of extra arms, filthy smut, rough sex, power play, swearing, dominant/submissive dynamic, post-sex aftermath, affectionate Sukuna, excessive touching, scary gentleness, possessive behavior, clinging, obsession masked as comfort, smothering intimacy

⸻

“You��re fucking insufferable,” you bark as you shove past him, blood still high from the mission—and from him.

“And you’re still breathing, which is wild considering how loud you are,” Sukuna snarls, following without hesitation.

“You think volume is the issue when you literally collapsed a building because someone looked at you wrong?”

“They disrespected me.“

“They sneezed.”

He rolls his eyes. “Same thing.”

“You are a fucking child.”

The second the words leave your mouth, the temperature in the room shifts. Sukuna’s red eyes narrow, his lips curling like a wolf showing its teeth.

“Say that again,” he says, low and dangerous.

You smile.

“I said—” You step closer, slow and smug. “—you are a fucking child. A petty, bloodthirsty, four-eyed man-child with delusions of grandeur.”

His jaw flexes. “You really want to do this right now?”

“Oh, I’ve been wanting to do this,” you snap, shoving a finger into his chest. “You act like the world owes you something just for breathing. Newsflash—being ancient doesn’t make you wise. Just old and insufferable.”

“You think you’re cute when you talk like this?”

You lean in close. “I know I am.”

He steps forward. You match it. Toe to toe. Breath to breath. Your bodies don’t touch, but the heat between them is nuclear.

“You don’t shut up.”

“You don’t listen.”

“I should end you.”

“You can’t.” You tilt your head. “That’s the part that really gets you, huh?”

He laughs once—sharp, mirthless. “You think I won’t snap you in half?”

You hum, running your fingers slowly up his sternum. “You haven’t yet.” wild-eyed and seething, toe to toe with him. “Do you ever stop being a psychotic, smug, tattooed—thing?”

He shrugs, totally unfazed. “Only when I’m inside you. You’re real quiet then.“

You blink. Then smile. The worst kind of smile.

“Oh, I was quiet?” you hum, stepping close enough that your breath touches his collarbone. “That wasn’t me begging, baby. That was me mocking how fast you were about to come.”

His jaw clenches. Just a flicker—but you catch it. And you pounce.

You run your hand up his chest, slow and casual like you’re not actively trying to set him on fire. “You hate that I talk back, huh? Hate that I don’t bow. That I touch you like you’re mine.”

“Don’t push me,” he growls, grabbing your wrist—but not moving it. Not really.

You smile wider. “Why not?”

“Because I will pin you down and shut that brat mouth so thoroughly you’ll forget how to argue.”

“Oh, now that sounds familiar…” you coo, stepping around him like a vulture, dragging your nails across his back. “Funny. That’s exactly what you did last time… Missionary, remember? How sweet of you.”

His head snaps toward you. “You said that just to piss me off.”

“I said it,” you purr, coming back around to his front, “because it’s true. You like looking me in the eye when I talk shit while you fuck me.”

You cup his jaw, gently. Deliberately.

“So we can keep arguing.”

Sukuna twitches like he’s two seconds from exploding.

“I swear,” he growls, voice low and ruined, “I will spawn my other set of arms just to hold down every cocky limb you’ve got and fuck the fight out of you.”

You moan quiet and fake and theatrical. And then your fingers slide to his sides. Lower. You hover them just above the faint raised scars, where the other two arms emerge when he goes full beast.

His breath catches.

You drag your fingers in a slow, sensual circle over them. Then down. Then up again. Featherlight.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, honey.”

He grabs your chin—hard. His face is inches from yours. He’s breathing heavy now, and not from anger. From restraint. His mouth parts once, twice, but nothing comes out.

You lean in, smug, sweet.

“Four hands,” you whisper, brushing your lips against his, “and still not enough to handle me.”

The room feels hot. Charged. Like lightning could strike from the ceiling.

“I could rip your soul out right now,” he mutters, low and hoarse.

You smile. “You won’t.”

His grip falters.

“I should leave you here,” he growls. “Make you wait.”

You laugh—light and dangerous, brushing your nose against his cheek. “You’re gonna kiss me instead.”

And he does. Not gently. Not sweet.

It’s all tongue, frustration, teeth clashing against yours, his hands bunching the back of your shirt like he wants to destroy it. Like he wants to destroy you.

But still your hands never leave the scars. Not for a second.

And the second he pulls away, breathing ragged, his voice gone wrecked—

You say it again. “Missionary.”

He exhales like you just stabbed him in the chest.

“You are so lucky I’m in love with you.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, tracing his scars again. “I am.”

He’s still breathing hard. So are you.

Your shirt is crumpled where his fists clung to it, his spit’s still on your tongue, and his kiss still burns like a bruise under your lips but you’re not backing down. Not even an inch.

“Missionary,” you whisper again, a soft lilt now. Like a lullaby designed to provoke murder.

Sukuna’s jaw tics. His hands curl at his sides, claws twitching like he’s fighting the urge to shred something—preferably clothing. Maybe the wall. Possibly you. For fun.

“You are so goddamn lucky,” he says, voice shot to hell, “that I don’t toss you through this wall and fuck you so deep you forget how to form vowels.”

You hum like that’s a bedtime story. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“It’s a warning.”

“Mm. I don’t do well with those.” Your fingers crawl back to the scars again—those raised, reverent places where his other arms live. “You keep giving me reasons to misbehave.”

“Touch those again and I will use them.”

“I’m counting on it.”

The tension snarls. You can feel it wrap around your throat—coiling like a noose, like a fuse. His aura shimmers off him in waves, and you know he’s this close to losing the last thread of patience he pretends to have.

So you tilt your head. You bring your fingers just under his jaw, tracing the underside of his throat, slow like molasses.

“C’mon, Sukuna,” you murmur, “you gonna pin me down again? Gag me? Hold me open with all four hands and tell me I should’ve known better?”

His eyes blaze. You know that look.

“You want it so bad,” you whisper, nose brushing his again, “but you’re scared you’ll make it too good and I’ll never shut the fuck up about it.”

A silence drops. Thick. Cold and hot at the same time. And then he lunges. Not to fuck. Not yet. To grab. One hand on your throat. Not choking—yet. Just holding. Testing the fit of your neck in his palm.

His other hand claws into your hip and yanks you forward until your bodies slam together.

“Do you want to be ruined?” he asks, low and guttural, his lips grazing your cheek. “Like truly. Completely. No dignity left. Just drooling and sobbing and begging me to stop.”

You smile like a goddamn devil. “You think I’d beg you to stop?”

Sukuna’s breath hitches. That’s the thing about you. You never mean to get under his skin—not really. But you live there now. Like a parasite with great legs and a worse attitude.

He exhales through his nose. “You’re not scared of me.”

“No baby,” you say, softly.

He stares at you. There’s something else beneath all the filth. Something wild. Terrified. A man with too many hands and too few people who can touch him without flinching.

“You should be,” he growls, but it comes out broken.

You just lean in, lips brushing the corner of his mouth, whispering like a secret you’re never taking back:

“Four hands. One attitude. Guess we’re both fucked.”

His mouth collides with yours again—but it’s different this time.

It’s desperate.

Like kissing is the only way he remembers he’s still here, and not some raging god spiraling through hell. His teeth catch your lower lip, then he sucks it between his like he’s punishing it. You groan, finally, and he grunts in reply—dragging you into him by your neck.

You let him. For a second.

And then? You laugh against his mouth.

He pulls back, panting. “What?”

You grin, breathless. “Still missionary.”

And this time— He actually growls.

You tilt your head at him, sweetly. “What, out of insults already?”

Sukuna exhales through his teeth. “You are not fucking normal.”

“Neither are you. We match.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

You lean in, lips brushing his again, wicked and airy.

“You’re the one hard right now.”

His nostrils flare. His pupils twitch. He lifts one hand to cup your jaw, the other wrapping tight around your waist—and pulls you in like he might actually devour you this time. No grace. Just hunger. Rage. Need.

But you’re still not done. Still smiling.

Still gliding your fingers down his ribs, over his scars like they’re your favorite parts of him. Like you’ve already memorized every ridge. Every threat.

“You gonna grow those extra arms or just keep talkin’ about it?” you breathe, mouth right against his, all heat and venom. “Don’t be shy, big guy.”

Sukuna stills. You feel his body tense, coil—like a snake about to strike. And then you feel it.

A third hand.

Touching your side. Just below your ribs.

Still human-warm, but wrong. Slicker. Stronger. Thicker fingers that curl like they’ve waited all day to feel you squirm.

Your eyes go wide—and then you laugh. Loud. Giddy. Unbothered. Delighted. “Well, well, well…”

Sukuna’s smirk is damn near lethal.

The fourth hand slithers into place around your throat before you can blink—tight, hot, thumb resting on your pulse like it’s claiming territory.

“Fucking warned you,” he growls, voice so low it buzzes against your lips.

You can’t stop laughing. “Oh my god,” you gasp, breathless. “You really pulled the freak card.”

He squeezes your throat just enough to make your knees buckle, and you gasp, eyes rolling back for half a second before he lets go—slowly. Teasingly. Just enough pressure to feel it, not enough to hurt.

The third hand slides lower, palm flattening over your stomach now. Exploring. Teasing.

The top two hands? One still fists your shirt. The other cups your face with surprising gentleness, like he wants to ruin you soft. You shudder under him. But not in fear. He sees it. Feels it. And smirks wider.

“I should tie you to this wall,” he says, voice half a purr, half a threat. “One arm for each wrist. One for that mouth. And one for—”

Your fingers cover his lips.

“No spoilers,” you whisper, eyes gleaming. “I want to be surprised.”

His tongue flicks out to lick your fingers.

You gasp and he laughs, finally, devil-deep and satisfied.

“You’re a menace,” he says.

“You’re obsessed with me.”

Another hand cups the back of your thigh. Lifts. Pins.

You hiss, more breath than sound, but he hears it.

“I could fuck you right here,” he says, mouth dragging along your jaw. “Up against this wall. No warmup. Just all four arms holding you wide open, writhing, drooling.”

You moan. Accidentally. He grins against your neck. “That’s what I thought.”

But you’re still not backing down. You whisper, teeth sharp, voice barely audible:

“Still missionary, though.”

His whole body goes rigid. All four hands tighten in different places. His breath catches—growls—and he bites your collarbone. Not enough to break skin. Just enough to warn.

“You little shit,” he whispers, hot and close.

You smile. “Prove me wrong, then.”

You’re pinned.

One thigh hoisted against the wall.

One hand wrapped around your throat.

One cupping your ass, fingers digging in like they’re claiming it.

The fourth? Cruising slow and low along your inner thigh, the promise of filth curling closer with every second.

You’re barely breathing now—partly from the grip on your throat, mostly from the way he’s staring at you like he wants to break something inside you. Something soft.

“You’re not even fighting me anymore,” Sukuna murmurs, gaze dragging down your face to your lips, then to your chest. “What happened, brat?”

You try to smirk. Fail.

Because he ruts against you—slow and heavy, hips rolling into yours with dangerous precision, like he’s testing how far he can go without you losing your damn mind.

Your head tips back with a moan that’s barely masked.

“Hmm,” he hums, one of his hands sliding up under your shirt now, trailing over bare skin. “Thought you had all that attitude, baby. Where’d it go?”

You gasp, fingers gripping his shoulders as another hand—you’ve lost track of which one now—grabs your jaw and makes you look at him.

“I’m waiting,” he says, low and sharp. “Say something. C’mon. One more smartass comment. I dare you.“

So you whisper— “…Still missionary.”

He slams his hips into you so hard your breath flies out in a noise between a whimper and a laugh, and then all four hands tighten—one on your throat, one hauling your thigh higher, one up your shirt now, playing with your nipple through your bra, and the last sneaking between your thighs, palm pressing right against the heat of you through your pants.

“You just don’t shut the fuck up,” he growls, voice guttural, ruined, desperate now. “And you think that makes you powerful?”

You’re panting. Wet. Nearly trembling. But your smile stays. Smug. Addicted.

“I think,” you whisper, “you love it.”

Sukuna bares his teeth—grinning like a predator—but his hands never stop. One drags your shirt up, baring your stomach, then higher, watching goosebumps ripple across your skin.

“You like being pinned?” he asks.

“Obviously.”

“You like my hands?”

“Which one?”

He laughs. Low. Sick. Like it hurts. “Oh you’re so fucked.”

The fourth hand—the one between your thighs—starts grinding against you now. Slow at first. Then firmer. Then circling, dragging obscene pressure where you need it most, making your hips buck without permission.

“You’re soaking through,” he mutters, breath ghosting your neck. “All talk until I touch you, huh?”

You moan, soft and strangled. He doesn’t let up.

“You’re gonna come like this?” he taunts. “Dry. Clothes on. Four hands holding you in place. Not even fucked yet.”

You try to snap back. Something, anything—

But he tightens the hand at your throat and you whimper.

“Oh yeah,” he purrs, “there’s the brat breaking.”

You claw at his chest now, nails dragging down his tattoos, desperate to ground yourself but it only fuels him.

One hand wraps in your hair, yanking your head back.

“You gonna beg?” he asks. “Say please?”

You stare at him. Breathless. Eyes wide. “No.”

He grins. “Then I’m not stopping.”

And he doesn’t. Not for a while.

Not until your hips stutter and your mouth parts and your eyes glaze—and then you moan, loud and broken, hips grinding down against the pressure of his palm.

And Sukuna? He groans like it physically affects him.

Your back hits the mattress so hard the bed screams. Not that you hear it over your own laughter—full, wild, manic.

Sukuna is on you like a curse with a mission. Clothes? Ripped. Shirt? Gone. Pants? Shredded like paper under clawed hands. Your bra snaps and flies halfway across the room. Your underwear—barely survives the first yank before it’s just strips.

And still you’re laughing.

“You think this is funny?” Sukuna snarls, eyes glowing, crouched between your legs like the beast he is.

You throw your arms around his neck, yank him down, and whisper sweet as sin: “As I told you… you little bitch—” And moan. Loud. Like you planned it that way.

Your laugh follows—louder now, wrecked, breathless, as your legs hook around his waist and your hips roll up, lining him up perfectly. His cock drags through your slick folds like a fucking promise, heavy, thick, pulsing.

He growls. You grin.

And then he slams in.

All four hands grip something. He’s everywhere, and deep, and you scream like it’s an exorcism. “Yeah?” he snarls, hips crashing into you with brute force, breath hissing against your mouth. “You want missionary, you get it.”

His hands grab your legs, folding you up beneath him, knees pinned to your chest like he’s trying to bury you into the mattress and break something sacred.

You moan again louder, higher—because fuck, it hits so good.

“Look at me,” he growls. “You talk all that shit, now look at me while I ruin your fuckin’ life.”

And you do. Eyes locking. Mouth open. Drool slipping down the corner of your lips as your body jerks with every goddamn slam of his hips.

“You’re shaking,” he mutters, one hand sliding between your bodies, thumb pressing hard against your clit as he fucks you deeper.

“I’m coming, dumbass—” you cry out, laughing through it, stars exploding behind your eyes.

Your body convulses, legs spasming in his grip—and he doesn’t stop. Just drives in deeper. Harder. Like a punishment. Like a gift.

“You said missionary like it was an insult,” he spits, watching your tits bounce, your chest heaving, your mouth open in wrecked moans. “But this—this—is how I make you mine.”

One hand leaves your jaw, slides to your throat again—tight, warm.

“You love it,” he hisses.

You whimper, mouth twitching in a smile even as your eyes roll back. “I love… making you mad.”

His hips slam forward—your whole body jolts. He’s twitching inside you now, thick, stretched, relentless. Another hand leaves your wrist, slides under your thigh and lifts, changing the angle just enough to hit everything.

You scream, choking on air and pleasure and his name.

“Who’s the little bitch now?” he grunts.

“I still am,” you sob through a laugh. “You’re just my bitch.”

And he loses it. He bends down, presses his forehead to yours, teeth bared.

“Say it again.”

“My bitch.”

He snaps his hips—once, twice—cruel, fast, right against your sweet spot and suddenly you’re gasping, clawing at him, your whole body arching into a second orgasm you didn’t see coming. Your brain short-circuits. He fucks you through it. Won’t stop. You cry. Tears stream sideways down your temples.

He kisses them. “You gonna keep laughing now?” he pants, chest heaving, still moving inside you. “Or you done being a little shit?”

You try to laugh—but it comes out a sob.

And then quietly. Stupid. Soft. “…I love you, you fucking freak.”

He freezes. For just a second. And then leans in. Real close. Smirks. “I know.” And keeps fucking you.

He doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t pause.

Not when you say I love you, not when your body trembles beneath him, not when tears streak hot and shining from your temples down into your hair. He just fucks you harder.

“You don’t get to say that,” Sukuna grunts, hips crashing into yours with bruising rhythm. “Not after all that shit. Not after missionary. Not after ‘you little bitch.’”

You try to respond, but all that comes out is a half-scream, half-laugh—wrecked and wet and dizzy. Your body won’t stop convulsing. His cock drives in deep, so deep, over and over, hitting the same spot, splitting you open like he’s trying to brand it.

“You’re crying,” he mocks, panting. “Aw, what’s wrong, sweetheart? Can’t take it?”

One of his hands cups the back of your head like a lover. Another still clamps your thigh wide, shaking from how hard it’s being held open. One presses down on your stomach like he wants to feel himself move inside you. The fourth is still at your throat, controlling your breath.

“I can take it—” you gasp, barely able to speak.

He slams in again. You choke on a moan.

“Really?” he growls. “Because your pussy’s twitching like she’s about to give out.”

You let out a sobbing laugh. “You’re—fucking obsessed.”

And he smirks. “No shit.”

His mouth comes down—biting your neck, your shoulder, your mouth. He devours your lips like he owns them. Like he needs them to stay alive.

He’s losing it. You can feel it. His rhythm is messier, desperate, still brutal but shaky—like the tension he built in you is finally snapping back at him.

“Say it again,” he pants. “Say you love me while I’m splitting you in two.”

You can barely breathe. Barely see. But you do it.

“Sukuna,” you whisper, a broken, feral grin twisting your lips. “I love you—I fucking love you—”

He groans. Your whole body jerks when he slams in one last time—so deep you swear it hits your damn soul—and he stays there, grinding slow and hard, like he wants to fuse with you from the inside.

His cock throbs, twitching and then hot release floods you, thick and endless. You moan so loud it breaks into a sob, eyes fluttering shut, muscles spasming uncontrollably around him.

And Sukuna still doesn’t pull out. “You take it,” he breathes, hips still moving in little thrusts. “Fucking brat. You take all of it.”

Your legs twitch. Your voice is gone. The hand on your stomach slides down—over your soaked, ruined pussy—and pushes down on your clit again. You shriek. “S-Stop—” you hiccup-laugh, tears falling faster, voice cracked. “You’ll break me—”

“You’re not broken yet,” he growls, staring down at you, sweat dripping off his jaw. “So I’m not done.”

You scream again—sharp, feral—as your third orgasm rips through you with no warning.

He leans down, all four arms still holding you wide, mouth at your ear. And whispers “I love you too, baby.”

Then he fucks you through it again.

You don’t even remember the second time he came.

You think it happened somewhere between your fourth orgasm and the moment he shoved your thighs so far up, you saw stars. Maybe you blacked out for a second. Maybe your body just gave in. You’re not sure.

All you know is— He was loud.

So loud.

And when he finally spilled again inside you, it was with a growl that sounded like it came from the deepest part of his chest. Like it hurt. Like it healed something.

Then he collapsed on top of you.

Heavy. Breathless.

You could barely feel your legs. Your throat was sore. You were soaked, bruised, shaking, and still grinning like a lunatic even as your brain stopped functioning.

He moved.

Not away. No, no, never away.

He hovered up, looked at you. Really looked at you. Still inside, still catching his breath, all four hands trembling from the tension finally spilling out of him. You blinked at him—dry mouth, fucked-out, mascara ruined, cheeks wet with tears you didn’t remember shedding.

“…S’kuna?”

“Shh,” he said, eyes impossibly soft. “Don’t talk.”

He kissed you. Gently.

Just once. Then once more, right in the center of your forehead.

You flinched a little when he pulled out, groaning low as his release leaked from you, down your thigh, onto the sheets. You squirmed. He caught your hips with all four hands and stilled you.

“Don’t move,” he said, firm but quiet.

“Sukuna, I—”

“Shut up, brat. I got you.”

And then he was gone—only for a second.

When he came back, it was with a wet cloth, a clean towel, and the kind of focus you’d expect from a doctor. Not a war god with four arms and a reputation for eviscerating people who blink wrong.

He kneeled between your thighs like he hadn’t just ruined you. Like he hadn’t mocked you for crying and then kissed every single tear off your face.

And he cleaned you.

Gently. Unbearably gently.

He didn’t speak, just pressed the warm cloth to your inner thighs, wiping carefully where you were red and trembling and raw. Every few seconds, he’d pause just to look at you—like you might vanish if he blinked.

You groaned once when he dabbed between your legs too tenderly.

His thumb traced your hip. “I know.”

You exhaled, trying to sit up. He shoved you back down with two hands flat to your chest. “Lie down.”

“Sukuna—”

“I said lie down.” His voice dropped, but his gaze stayed soft. “You let me break you. Now let me fix you.”

That shouldn’t have made your chest ache.

But it did.

He kept going, cleaning every inch of you like a man possessed. Towel under your hips, cloth dragging slowly over sticky, sensitive skin. When he was satisfied, he tossed it aside, pulled a blanket up—and then slid in next to you.

Wrapped himself around you. Head on your shoulder. Legs tangled with yours. One hand on your stomach, one under your head, one gripping your thigh like a leash, and the fourth gently brushing your hair behind your ear.

He didn’t speak for a long time.

Then, quietly—like a secret he hated giving up: “…I meant it.”

You turned your head, dazed. “What?”

His mouth hovered over yours. “I love you too.”

You blinked.

And he smiled. Too sweet. Too soft. Like he might eat your heart just to make sure it never loved anyone else.

Then, whispered against your cheek: “You say ‘missionary’ one more time and I’m bending you over everything you own.”

You wheezed. But all you could do was nuzzle into him. Whimpering. Laughing. And when he felt your body relax completely under all four arms he pulled the blanket tighter.

And kissed your shoulder like it was the only thing that ever kept him sane.

໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১ hope you like it!!

be sure to check out my other stuff too <3

[sashaaababy]

Husband!Sukuna(Trueform) Headcannons

Cws: Smut, B*nd4ge, Cr**mpies, somnophilia, Rough s*x, After care, c*m play, an*l, p!ss

Husband!Sukuna who loves how cute you’re small body looks below him when he has you in the meanest mating press known to man kind!! Bullying his 13.5inch cocks into you’re small cunt and ass hole until you swear you’re holes are about to rip

Husband!Sukuna who loves tying you up in the weirdest positions so he can get all angles of you’re holes and how they twitch and flutter around nothing begging for his thick cocks without you needing to even say anything 

Husband!Sukuna who loves forcing his cocks so deep into you and pressing down on that bulge that forms in you’re belly with the outline of his cock 

Husband!Sukuna who loves the feeling of you’re pussy but might love the feeling of you’re asshole squeezing around his cock till he gets the feeling of it cutting off circulation even more!

Husband!Sukuna who loves to watch his and you’re cum spill out of both red and puffy abused holes he cant help but run his fingers through the sticky white mess and smear it all over you’re ass and smack it until its red with his hand marks

Husband!Sukuna who cant help himself when he gets a boner in the middle of the night, so while you’re sleeping he will try his best not to wake up his baby by slipping one of his cocks into you’re warm gushy hole 

Husband!Sukuna who even though absolutely loves you till the ends of the earth loves to use you as his own toilet when he fucks you and is to lazy to go to the bathroom “Hnngh..s-sukuna what is that why do I feel so w-warm inside” and he will always just lie to you not wanting to make you feel all gross and icky:( “don't worry baby don't focus on it yeah? Its just my pre baby. Just keep focusing on my cock hitting that gummy spot you got”

Husband!Sukuna who always makes sure to give his sweet girl after care after being so rough with her and filling her holes up with so many fluids her belly is all bloated and squishy 

[aloexxx]

The sillies

Timelapse. It took 9h 30m in total

I purposefully tried to make it as neat as possible as my usual timelapses are all over the place lol

[chuulyssa]

it's not sukuna's fault you're so irresistible

smut nsfw mdni

aghhhh trueform!sukuna kissing you so hard, a hand caressing your face, another behind your head to press you further into the kiss, and the other two resting protectively on your hips and waist to hold you in place. so romantic, you didn't ever think the king of curses had a side so innocent to him.

trueform!sukuna who likes using his body to bring you and ultimately himself the max amount of pleasure he can derive with it. the hands on your hips slowly slide down, one to your ass and the other inside your panties. he then switches from calmly kissing you to fucking you with his fingers, and it's so sudden, you can't even comprehend the fingers inside your cute cunt.

trueform!sukuna who purposely conjures a mouth on the hand inside your panties, so when he slips his fingers inside you, he can simultaneously eat you out relentlessly while making out with you romantically. and you're so dazed, all you feel is fucking pleasure. loads of it. but too much of anything is bad, right?

trueform!sukuna whose foreplays are just another synonym for torture. his mouth(s) licking and sucking on every part of your body, hands holding you firmly in place so you can't even move away, or hit his chest, or kick him, or even beg for his cock. all you can do is wait till when he gets satisfied enough to give time for his own pleasure, and you slowly edge towards your 5th orgasm of the night.

trueform!sukuna who just can't wait to explore every inch of your body with his hands, and of course, mouth(s). by the time he's done with just the prep, you're already overstimulated, and he would have felt sorry that you had to take his dick in as well now after all that torture. all the while you don't understand how a simple kiss turned into dirty sex.

but he's just the king of curses a boy 🎀

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[v1x3n]

thinking about trueform sukuna who loves overstimulating you to the max. you're riding him - well, not really. your sat up on his cock but two of his hands are gripping your hips, bouncing you up and down furiously.

one of his cocks, the bigger one, stretching out your poor pussy. reaching so deep, your stomach bulges out, showing the shape of his mighty cock. his other cock wasn't as bulky or tall as the other one, but it was still bigger than any other mans. that one was stuffed tight into your puckered hole, filling you up nicely. you couldn't get away from the pleasure as sukuna forces you to swallow his length over and over again. taking him whole was a hard thing but with a bit of force, you could do it.

the tongue that slides out from his stomachs mouth, licks a wet glob of spit on your clit, lapping at the small bud.

you whine loudly, tears brought to your eyes. you squirm, trying to get away as your legs shake angrily. "what's the matter?" his soothing words would have been nice despite his mocking grin that plasters his sweaty face.

you mumble out slurred words, while his two free hands are attached to your boobs. grabbing, grasping and pinching the skin. your nipples already swollen from the clamps he had clasped to them earlier. slight red glows at your sensitive nipples. you mewl loudly, tears dripping down your chin as you moan repetitively. your legs shake with a violent pace.

cum lashing out from your pussy, dripping down his cock as you squirt all over him. the mouth on his stomach seems to groan at the taste, lapping it up. his hands bounce you angrier, desperate the take every drip from in you.

your messy hair wafts around, sticking to your skin slightly. sweat covers you as your body is worn out from the past hour. "su-hah!" you moan out loudly. eyebrows pinching together.

"take it." he groans out, head falling back in laughter and pleasure. a hand that grips your hip harshly moves up to your stomach, pressing down hard. you whine as spurt out more liquid. "fucken messy girl."

[m1stm3]

“you don’t believe that sex is the most intimate thing that two can do together?” you repeat sukuna’s previous words with a raised eyebrow, skepticism lacing every word you spoke.

“i had concubines before i was devoted to you. do you really think i see intercourse as something significant?” he doesn’t even spare you a glance, all four of his eyes focused on carefully peeling the fruits resting in the bowl in front of him (mangoes, to be specific. a special order he put in with uraume for you). your eyes narrow at his words.

“so you don’t see intercourse with me as something significant?” that earns you a roll of his eyes.

“i don’t recall those words leaving my lips, woman.” he glances at you with a bored look, already much too used to your antics and the nonsensical conclusions you often pulled from his words (“it’s called reading in between the lines, ryo.” you had insisted. he chose not to debate you on it).

he sighs when you go silent, seemingly waiting for an explanation from him that would fix the small pout gracing your lips. he would’ve let you sulk if you were anybody else, but you weren’t.

“i realize the significance humans place on it now that i am yours, but i partook in the act purely for pleasure before you. it was simply to fulfill my fleshly desires.” he doesn’t need to look at you to know that the frown on your face still hasn’t faltered. in fact, the displeased look on your face probably only deepened upon the mention of him being intimate with other women.

“human customs are foolish, that will never change.” his hand lifts to your lips, a cube of mango held delicately between his fingers. he continues speaking only after feeding you the fruit.

“but if my stubborn little wife sees it as something of importance, then it shall be so.” he says the last part with a sense of finality, as if it was a part of his life that he accepted a long, long time ago.

you contemplate his words for a moment, your posture easing against the lavish pillows of your shared bed. you stall on swallowing the piece of fruit on your tongue, considering a question in that ever curious mind of yours.

“what’s significant to you, ryo?”

he pauses for a brief moment but doesn’t answer, simply bringing another piece of fruit up to your lips (whether the action was out of care or to keep your mouth occupied was unclear).

his lack of an answer was as good of an answer as any, though.

this was significant to him. the way he cut and fed you soft fruit with hands that had slaughtered armies, handling you as if you were made of fine china. never yelling, never arguing.

the king of curses devoted himself to you because deep in his heart he acknowledged his subservience to you.

that is what’s significant to him.

[yoiisa]

𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

true form! sukuna, vaginal sex, dirty talk, toxic feminization, concubine! reader turned "wife", praise, dirty talk, mentions of injury (non-sex related)

genuinely cannot explain how this started, but for the past month i've had the worst crush on ryomen sukuna ever oml!!

no because like genuinely picture this: heian era, true form sukuna, living in a home where concubines are always coming and going. some of them he kills, some of them just run away when his violence becomes too much. he can hardly keep track of them all.

then one day, he's walking through the courtyard when he spots you, kneeling next to a tiny pond, feeding the koi some of your food. your hair falling in front of your face, your kimono sleeves brushing up against the water and getting wet. however, the main thing that attracts sukuna's attention is the tiny smile you have on his face. it appears when you catch him staring at you, and is accompanied by a deep bow.

he's a violent man, so he's practically never been met with any kind of grace such as yourself. just like that though, you've earned his favor. it only grows the more time he spends with you. you are soft and gentle, you bloom under his attention like a flower in the sun, and you're so eager to please. he brings you more often to his chambers where he takes his fill of your every night, imagining you as his wife.

"yes, fuck, yes," he groans, tossing his head back as you bounce on his length. "feel it? deep inside of you?" he slaps his other cock on your ass as you ride him magnificently.

"yes my lord!" you gasp, digging indents into his shoulders. "ah~! 'ts so deep!!"

the night after he firsts claims you, he requests that uraume move all of your personal belongings into his room, and he gives you direct orders to live and sleep in his rooms from now on. of course you oblige, being the obedient thing that you are.

he's a prince to you. where he is crass and cruel to the other concubines, he is silent and soft with you. his hands are gentle as they pat you when you pour him tea, or pull you into his side as he eats his meals.

there's one time when an attack on his home starts, and rioting villagers set the building on fire. sukuna disposes of the men as quickly as they come and he's relatively unconcerned with the damage done to any of the other women there, but that all changes the minute he notices you're missing.

the rage that ensues is enough to the put the fire of the rioters to shame. he slaughters women by the dozen, screaming at them for their lack of accountability.

"how could you not keep track of one of your own?! Oh, no, she's not one of you pathetic whores! FIND HER NOW!"

eventually uraume appears, carrying you on his back. he sets you down at sukuna's feet, your body injured and covered in soot. sukuna shuts himself up in his new room with you for a week, refusing anyone but uraume to come in to tend to you and him.

"my flower, can you hear me?" he asks, feeding medicine to you in a tiny cup. when you nod, he breathes a sigh of relief. he kisses your forehead and rests you down on the futon to get some sleep. "my brave girl. do not fret. whoever caused this shall pay ten fold."

eventually his favor with you grows to be so powerful that he completely neglects all his other concubines. he has you why would he need them? they trickle out of his house one by one in search of another man, but he does not care in the slightest.

he barely even notices their absence because every night, he finds himself buried deep inside your heat, pounding into you like there's no tomorrow. his four hands splaying across your flesh, groping your breasts, pulling your hair, and squeezing your hips. his stomach tongue licking the salty sweat from your skin, relishing in a sensation that's so uniquely you.

"m-my lord," you whine as he pulls your chest flush against his.

"ryomen, my flower," he corrects. he growls, his hips snapping into yours. "fuck- this pussy . . . how can you be so tight still, even after i've plucked every petal from your innocence?"

you writhe in his arms, the pleasure mounting. "I . . . I . . . mmmmm, haaaahhh~"

"my little wife is close, isn't she?" he chuckles as you nod vigorously to his question. "then come."

you explode, your back arching as his lips trail across your collarbone and neck.

a/n: what can I say? A girl must goon every now and again

[anglbunny]

FIRST TIME RIDING SUKUNA

smut mdni, hand kink, size kink, visual overstimulation

You didn’t expect it to feel this way.

You’d seen his cock already — thick, veiny, way too big for comfort — but seeing it and riding it were two completely different things. Right now, with your thighs trembling around his hips and your chest heaving from the effort of trying to take just the tip — reality was finally settling in.

He didn’t fit. Not really. Not all the way.

But Sukuna wasn’t known for patience.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he drawled, voice rough with a dark kind of amusement. His hands — those huge fucking hands — were gripping your waist, spanning damn near the whole thing. One twitched slightly, then forced you down an inch further. You cried out, your insides fluttering and squeezing instinctively around him. “That little pussy’s gonna stretch whether she wants to or not.”

You shook your head, fingers clawing at his chest, trying to keep some distance. “I-I can’t—! It’s too—fuck, it’s too big—!”

Sukuna laughed, deep and dangerous, his thumb brushing over your swollen clit in slow, deliberate circles that made your hips jolt involuntarily.

“Oh, you can,” he said, voice all smoke and cruelty. “You’re already halfway there. Just look.”

Your eyes snapped downward — and your stomach flipped.

Only half his cock was inside. And you already felt full, stuffed, stretched wide open. Your lips were spread around him in a taut, obscene O, slick glistening down his shaft, and he still hadn’t bottomed out. You tummy sporting a very prominent bulge from his cock.

“Shit…” you whimpered.

“You’re takin’ it like a fuckin’ champ,” he purred, almost mockingly. His fingers moved again — not just on your clit, but his other hand shifted up to your neck. Not choking, just resting there. Heavy. Possessive. Thumb brushing your throat like he could feel the noises spilling out of it.

“So damn loud already,” he grinned, cock twitching inside you. “And we haven’t even started moving.”

When he did move — when he bucked his hips just slightly, sinking another brutal inch into you — your moan turned into a strangled sob.

“Fuck—Sukuna—!”

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, voice feral. “Ride it. Scream if you need to — scream loud. Let everyone know this pussy’s mine now.”

You tried to lift your hips again, to ease the pressure, but he grabbed you again — both hands on your ass now, big fingers digging in mercilessly as he held you down and thrust up, slamming in deeper, deeper—

You screamed.

Back arched, eyes rolled back, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as you choked on his name again and again. Your body didn’t know whether to fight it or come.

“Too big,” you sobbed, even as your cunt clenched around him. “I can’t—gonna break—”

Sukuna grinned, all teeth and filth and menace.

“Then break.”

TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau @laslowchan @ethxrxxlity

A/N: haven't wrote for him in a while

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

Masterlist

[all-with-angel]

❥ Flashing Sukuna during an argument goes exactly how you want it to..

His mouth, originally opened to bite back some sort of retort intricately mixed in with an insult, snaps shut. Sukuna's lips seal into a thin line, crimson eyes sharpening and staring right at you. A predator looking down on its prey; prey that just offered itself up on a silver platter.

There’s a full beat of silence before he rasps, voice rough and low, "Really? You're using your body against me?"

"Is it working?"

He growls, a sound to hide the answer you were looking for, maybe. His lips pull into a sneer as he stomped his way to you, body looming over yours as he placed large hands on your waist, another grabbing your jaw and lifting your face to look at him. "You're getting bold." There was a hint of amusement in his voice. “You really think flashing me in the middle of a fight is a smart idea?”

"Yes." Your voice came out slightly muffled, and you could feel Sukuna's fingers tighten even more around your jaw at your answer.

Sukuna exhaled hard through his nose, glaring, but the edge of his lips twitched—just barely. “You’re infuriating.”

“And you love it.”

He didn’t respond. Not with words, anyway. His gaze dropped again for a fraction of a second, betraying him before he caught himself. Then his smirk finally returned, slow and sharp.

“Do it again,” he murmured, low and amused, voice curling like smoke. “I dare you.”

You grinned, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it up.

[nanamisdollie]

his favorite concubine ⋆ 𐙚 ̊.

smut, mdni. cw: dubcon, true form sukuna(monster fucking?), use of stomach mouth for freaky purposes <3

just thinking about being one of ryomen sukunas servants who ends up promoted to concubine<3

maybe it was your body that caught his attention, perhaps the way you listened when given orders? was it that you worked quick unlike others who served, or could it have been that you held eye contact when the four eyed beast of a man passed you. it couldve been any of those things that led you to this point;

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

“stop- fuckin’ squirming-“

two of four oversized arms had you bent with your knees beside your ears, hands interlocked behind your neck. you had never been manhandled in such a way, nevermind wondered how a man with four arms would have his way with you.

“if you don’t learn how to stay still-“ another hand comes up to hold your face, forcing you to look at him. theres four eyes all on you “-ill slay you myself. find another woman to breed. you understand?”

its a struggle to nod, so a muffled “mhm~” does the trick..not that he would’ve taken anything other than yes as a proper answer. a concubine did her job of providing pleasure or died, it was that simple to a powerful man like sukuna. an heir would be nice as well, though it wasn’t a must.

a hand falls from your face to wrap around your waist, pulling you up his abdomen. your legs are beginning to cramp, your pelvis hurts, but you don’t dare mention it. he wouldn’t care even if you did.

“mm- ah! wha-” the gasp thats ripped from your chest is abrupt in reaction to something wet between your thighs. its an odd sensation, one that you squirm away from until - SMACK! - on the underside of one of your thighs.

sukuna tightens the full nelsons he bent you into. when he adjusts you higher up, you’re able to get a proper look at just whats probing between your lower lips; his second mouth, trying its best to tongue fuck you open for him.

“stop clenching” a grunt hums against your neck, the lower tongue flattening as it licks a stripe from your leaking hole to your clit “s’ gonna hurt worse if you fight it- just let it happen, woman”

so you do. this was your job as a concubine, you had to remember that.

relaxing your lower half you let him violate you with the mouth. its a sensation unlike anything you've ever felt, though not awful. it makes your cunt drool, softening naturally in preparation for whatever your lord planned to do next.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

"hah! h-holy fuck-!"

"don't speak of holiness while in my quarters" strong firm hips buck up into your own, still held in a mean full nelson that left you spread wide open.

now though, two cocks were coaxing your slit open. you had relaxed all you could like he demanded, his second tongue had gotten you to drip a lewd amount over his lower stomach, and yet even the tips of both were enough to have you shaking.

"mm-lord sukuna! p-please..." tears pricked the corners of your eyes. you couldn't help the overflowing whines and sobs you let out, it was all too much and yet he kept going.

"last time- shit- i checked-" both lengths push further into your weeping cunt, fat tears begin to slip down your flushed cheeks "-concubines werent supposed to- fuckin' take it- talk back to their master"

your heads spinning, you can feel your hole pulsating as it tries to take in every inch of both cocks. they’re not just long, they’re thick, fat even at the tip. every inch burns but theres an underlying pleasure to it that makes you want more.

a lapping at your cheek brings you back to him, heavy eyes glancing towards the monsters face; he’s grinning while licking up your tears, a chuckle reverberates into your back “pretty crier at least…”

sukuna finally, with one powerful thrust, is able to slot both cocks fully inside. it knocks the wind out of you.

the sensation is nothing like anything you’ve ever felt. full, stretched beyond what should be humanly possible, your cunts memorizing every vein as if you were being molded to fit him. your were so fucking dizzy you could hardly keep your eyes open.

smack, smack, smack!

“look at me, look at your lord while you take my cocks”

a firm hand held your face again after a few merciful slaps. once more you were forced to hold eye contact with him

“picked you to be one of my toys…cause’ of the way you looked at me” a deep thrust has his balls smacking your clit and his tips rutting into your cervix “you don’t fuckin’ look away. felt like- ug- you were beggin’ for this”

when he gets no reply he smacks your cheek once again with more force. “tell me. tell your lord that you wanted this”

his hips begin to piston up into you, ripping a yelp from somewhere deep in your chest. its like he’s fucking into your cervix now. your cries, skin slapping, grunts from him bounce of the walls.

“i-i- mmph! wan-wanted this!”

sukuna grunts and picks up the pace of his thrusts, practically snarling into your ear. his breath was blistering against your flushed skin

“wanted- ah! shi- wanted lord kuna!”

another deep chuckle from him makes the burning in your lower stomach begin to grow. your cunt was tightening, choking his lengths. you can hear his grunts become huffs, his pace is slowing.

“wanted kuna so bad? huh?” a whine is all you can muster out“then cum. milk my seed, woman”

the words are so vulgar, and yet they break that tension that had been growing. tears pool down your cheeks once more as you cum, legs shaking in his grasp. you’re sobbing, struggling to catch your breath as your orgasm rips throughout your used body.

just the spasming on your already snug cunt has sukuna busting from both cocks not long after. he growls while pushing his hips flush to your own, balls pressed right up to your clit. you swear you can feel your cervix open up for him, like it needed his seed.

“atta girl…” he huffs out a tired sigh, finally letting your legs fall, his arms falling by his head. you nearly pass out from the pressure release. so dizzy, your legs feel like jelly, your arms are numb, and he’s still pushed all the way inside you.

when you try to move, one of his four arms stops you. your eyes meet and he pulls your back to his chest, two of his other hands coming up to caress your breasts.

“you’re gonna stay here. gotta make sure it takes.” one of the hands on your breasts slips to your lower stomach, brushing it gently “can tell your cunt wants to make me an heir. isnt that right?”

oh to give sukuna an heir. i love u true form sukuna<333

[satoruslovey]

*ੈ✩˚Sukuna×wife!reader ₊˚⊹ᰔ

In which he rescues his pretty little wife who is scared of a creature way tinier than her--a lizard.

You’ve faced cursed spirits. Walked hand-in-hand with the King of curses. Slept beside him while blood soaked the floor outside your chambers.

But nothing could have prepared you for this,

"SUKUNA."

You scream his name like the estate’s under siege. Like sorcerers are crashing through the gates. Like you’re dying.

He appears instantly, his robe half open ,like he scurried there in a hurry,eyes ablaze.

"who dares--"

"THERE'S A LIZARD ON THE WALL."

There is a silence,a very sharp one.

He blinks. Once. Slowly.

His four eyes flick toward the far wall.

A tiny lizard,no bigger than your finger,is clinging innocently to the marble like it pays rent.

“You screamed for that?”

“It looked at me!”

“It has no eyebrows, woman, it cannot look at you."

You jump onto the nearest table, gripping a pillow like a weapon.

“SUKUNA. Kill it.”

“You want me,” he says, voice dry, “to slaughter a defenseless creature the size of a toe.”

YOU SLAUGHTERED A GOD FOR BREATHING TOO LOUDLY.”

He groans. Rubs a hand down his face. The lizard blinks at him,wrong move.

Sukuna sighs, lifts a finger, and flicks a harmless pulse of cursed energy toward the lizard. It flies out the window like a leaf caught in a storm.

“There. The kingdom is safe.”

You leap down and throw your arms around him dramatically.

“My hero,” you sigh dramatically, arms thrown around him like he just returned from war.

Sukuna groans, arms crossed, pretending like he’s not melting under the weight of your affection.

“It was a lizard.”

You nod solemnly against his chest.

“A deadly one. What would I have done without you?”

“Stepped on it like a normal human.”

“How dare you suggest such violence,” you gasp, pulling back. “I’m delicate.”

He raises a brow. “You kicked a curse in the face last week.”

“That curse didn’t have scales and grabby little feet.”

He looks above like he’s begging some higher being for strength.

You grin, leaning up on your toes to boop his nose with your finger. Still barely reaching his shoulders.

“You love me.”

He doesn’t respond.

Just loops an arm around your waist and picks you up with one hand like you weigh nothing, carrying you bridal-style back to your room.

“I’m relocating you to higher ground. In case the lizard has allies.”

You giggle into his neck.

“So protective…”

“So annoying,” he mutters, but the kiss he presses to your temple says otherwise.

“Can you curse the whole species for me?” you mumble.

“Done. Extinct by morning.”

“You’re the best.”

He adjusts you in his arms, gaze soft as he whispers,

“I know.”

A/n : I hate lizards so fkn much, disgusting little things, anyway, do you want more of sukuna and his wife🧍🏻‍♀️

[cvntybrat]

cinnamon rolls

thinking about househusband!sukuna who can't get a job due to his criminal history and his aggressive and violent nature, who stays home and does house chores and everything else in between for his beautiful wife, the bread winner.

he one day goes out with his friends–which he rather die than consider them his friends, and they jokingly tell him he should do something sweet for his wife.

"you should make her cinnamon rolls."

"hah?"

"cinnamon rolls! but instead of the frosting you should use your cum! but don't tell her, see if she'll notice, maybe she'll like them better than normal ones." gojo snickers.

"you think i'll do some stupid shit like that?"

"why not? too old to have enough in the tank for some cinnamon rolls?"

who would he be if he didn't prove gojo satoru wrong?

"why does it smell so sweet?" you had just come home from work, the first thing you noticed was the smell of cinnamon and sugar wafting in the air.

"sukuna?"

kicking off your heels, you walked into the kitchen to see househusband!sukuna shirtless, with sweat trickling down his neck and a few trails down his muscular back.

"woman," he turns his neck, facing you before turning his entire body, revealing a glass bakeware with freshly baked cinnamon rolls and frosting. "try this."

you walked over to him, staring at the cinnamon rolls in his hands with an eyebrow raised.

"you don't bake."

"do you want them or not?" he huffed, "these are special, ya'know? so appreciate 'em."

"of course i appreciate them." you rolled your eyes.

swiping your finger through the frosting, picking up some of the sugar and cinnamon mixture with it, househusband!sukuna felt his cock twitch against his sweatpants at the sight of you putting your finger into your mouth as you looked up at him, sucking the frosting off of your finger.

"mmh! yummy!" you beamed innocently, taking more onto your finger and sucking on it, keeping eye contact with the tattooed man. "i can't wait to have a piece after dinner, love."

househusband!sukuna could feel his cock getting harder at the sight, but as he was about to tell you the frosting was his cum, you pressed your lips onto his cheek and turned around, walking into your shared room.

"you should make me more of that, 'kuna! the frosting is so good, it's not too sweet, it's a little salty, but the cinnamon and the sugar compliments it."

i guess there's nothing wrong with not telling you that househusband!sukuna spent an hour and a half fucking his hand to the homemade videos the two of you have made to have enough to cover all nine cinnamon rolls. if you're gonna want more, he's gonna need more videos... a win is a win.

notes: a lot of people i see are being accused of copying other bloggers and stuff, so before any of that happens– i remember reading something similar to this a while ago, like A WHILE ago, and it was so long ago, but i cannot for the life of me remember, so if you guys know who wrote this concept first, pls LET ME KNOW!!!!

UPDATE!!!! tysm @gloriousbreadperson for letting me know that @psuejo had this idea first so u can read their’s HERE!!

⋆cvntybrat 2025. DO NOT repost, copy, translate or steal any of my works.

[thbbie]

༄ trueform sukuna x f!reader

this is humiliating

you're spread so wide on his lap, one pair of his enormous hands holding your thighs apart; your soft chest flush against his own, firm one. sukunas expensive silken robes rest loosely on his hulking frame, opened generously to reveal his inked skin and the stomach mouth that makes out with your poor drippy cunt.

the second pair of hands holds you close, keeping you where you are, holding you by the back of your neck to kiss you.

he's making out with both your lips simultaneously.

it's humiliating and so overwhelming.

you could barely breathe, wholly unable to deal with the beast before you—completely dwarfed by him, you have no escape. your body instead takes to twisting and turning in his hold; being consumed by the pleasure you receive as you recite his name over and over like the desperate plea of the endlessly devoted worshiper.

sukuna sukuna sukuna sukuna.

your mind fills of him, the large mouth at his stomach unrelenting and without mercy licking and sucking away at your soft quivering flesh like he was digging for treasure (as of the bountifulness of the wealth already in his possession was not enough)

(and to him it wasn't. hardly treasures to him at all. the true prize, he believed was hidden somewhere between the sobbing folds of your fluttering pussy and the desperate cries from your bitten lips.)

it gets too much so fast. just when you feel that you cannot feel anymore he manages to prove you wrong. you throw your head back (as best you can given his hold on you) desperate sounds leave you, feral and overstimulated and so so satisfied as you reach your high for the nth time. he watches you, all four crimson eyes trained on your delicate blissed features,

you're so pretty for something so weak.

aftercare

[goyardgoyangi]

planting evidence in street racer! sukuna's car

Sukuna’s car has always been untouchable—immaculate, brutal, fast. The kind of machine that mirrors him: sharp edges, no softness, no room for anyone else.

Until you.

Now there’s lip gloss in the cupholder and a scrunchie looped around his gear shift like some kind of silk flag staked in his territory. You started leaving little things behind, quietly, like you were planting evidence. Gum wrappers, a clip from your hair, even your iced coffee straw one day—left right in the side door pocket.

You expected him to toss it all back at you. Maybe with a grunt. Maybe with an eye roll and a muttered “keep your shit out of my car.”

But he didn’t.

He kept them there. Because you and Sukuna… you weren’t dating. No one had asked. There was no talk, no label. Just a long night that turned into a few more, then a pattern.

You, on the other hand, are more strategic. Conniving, even.

You don’t ask to be his girl. You don’t cling. You just leave marks. Subtle things. Things a hookup wouldn’t ever have time to leave behind. So that maybe—just maybe—if someone else ever got in the passenger seat, they’d know instantly: they’re not the first, and they’re definitely not the only one who rides here.

But no one else has. Sukuna hasn’t touched another girl since the first night he had you spread out across his sheets—back arched, lips parted, absolutely wrecked from round four. You were limp and glowing in the aftermath, falling asleep on his chest like you belonged there. And maybe you did.

He hadn’t cared to look at anyone else since.

That car used to be built for speed, for control, for the kind of thrill that made his blood rush. It was never about comfort.

But now? It’s starting to literally feel like a second bedroom. Like an extension of you—your perfume clinging to the seatbelt, a receipt from your favorite café crumpled in the passenger door, your earrings slipped into the little tray under the dash.

The backseat holds the imprint of your body, the curve of your hips pressed into the leather, a reminder of all the times he’s fucked you in his car—your legs spread wide as he drove you to the edge with each brutal, deep thrust.

Even the front, where your hand wraps around his arm as his fingers make you come undone, hitting a spot that drives you wild in ways only he knows, still carries the unmistakable mark that this seat—this car—belongs to someone else.

So when Sukuna rolls into the garage late one night—hair still damp from a shower, muscles loose from hours tangled up inside you, still half hard just remembering how you moaned his name—his fellow mechanics clock it instantly.

“Yo,” Mahito says, glancing up from under the hood of a stripped RX-7. “You have a girlfriend or somethin’? Your car smells like vanilla.”

Sukuna just grunts, shoving his keys in his pocket.

He leans against the hood, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he’s not thinking about you sleeping in his bed right now, curled up under his sheets in that oversized tee you always steal from him.

They take his silence as confirmation.

“You hear that, Suguru?” Mahito continues to instigate, smirking. “Sukuna’s got gloss on the gearshift.”

Suguru raises a brow from where he’s cataloging parts. “Damn. Didn’t think anyone could turn Sukuna into a personal Uber.”

That earns a laugh from the group. Sukuna doesn’t say anything, just lazily flicks his middle finger their way. But he doesn't deny it either.

“No wonder you leave work early so often,” another mechanic mutters, elbowing Uraume. “He used to hang around, talk engines, grab beers.”

They shrug. “Guess he’s got better company these days.”

Sukuna barely hears his coworkers gossip over the echo of your moans still ringing in his head. Because they’re not wrong—he has been slipping out early, ditching post-race drinks just to pick you up from work. Just to get you back in his car, where your legs fold up sweet and tight in the passenger seat and your hand always finds his without a word.

It’s routine now—his hand on your thigh the second the engine starts. He doesn’t even think about it. Just needs it. Needs the feel of you under his fingers, to squeeze the thighs he’s bruised a dozen times with his mouth.

And when you finally fall asleep, innocent and warm, lips parted just slightly?

He drives slower than he ever has in his life. Because the longer he keeps you next to him like this, the longer he gets to pretend you’re already his girl.

And he knows—he knows—you’re testing him with the things you leave behind. Waiting to see if he’ll clean them out. Waiting to see if he’ll hand you your lip gloss and tell you to stop marking your territory.

But he won’t.

Not when the vanilla scent lingers in the air. Not when the other mechanics glance at the cupholder and trade knowing looks because even they can see it—

The car’s not just his anymore.