#this hit

[cotards-culture-is]

Cotards culture is my mind convincing me that my chronic pain is me rotting

[edwin-paynes-bowtie]

[ur-average-girlnextdoor]

[girliism]

[aroacecat]

Chapter 24 being called "something that can be changed" after the suffering that "something that can't be changed" brought me is hysterical

[monsterinthemountain]

Brennan lee mulligan does it again, folks — “Do not take the crimes of those who have manipulated us and put them at the feet of the world”

[lovenona]

Not me being nasty and thinkin abt makin out with sukuna’s tummy mouth 😩 (would it even be possible? Idk) i jus wanna feel his entire tongue be shoved down my throat- making me tear up- then pulling me back up to his mouth on his face telling me “c’mon now, the one up here’s gettin’ a bit lonely” with a deep chuckle before makin me sit on the tummy mouth instead- imagine being able to get head and make out at the same time ooh la la jvnwkf just. Tummy mouth pls 🤲 🥺 im sorry this got too long,, also idk if u remember me but i am the anon who wrote the ask sayin sukunas bad at handling spice 🌶

contains: monsterfucking (original form sukuna <33), oral (f! receiving), i guess there’s a spit kink in here, everything is messy, time to worship sukuna’s tummy tongue aka the eighth wonder of the world 

every day, you thank the heavens that sukuna ryoumen has four arms.

it’s necessary, those four, because they support you, become you, when your legs crumble like ashes and your mind decides to check out for the evening. there’s not a lick of independence, self-respect, when acclaimed deity sukuna ryoumen decides it’s time to play. 

two of them hold you now, sharp nails digging crescent moons into the small of your back, as he drags your hips across his stomach to the rhythm he demands. his tongue darts between your legs, devouring your swollen clit and burying itself inside you unabashedly, just as it has been for an eternity. there’s no taste sukuna loves better than the bitter tang of your juices, no meal he’d rather consume than your cum.

(that’s what he said, at least, three or four orgasms ago. you couldn’t be sure if he was kidding.) 

the other two hands cradle your glistening face, dance across your pulse, draw your lips towards his so you cannot turn away. it is his right, he says, to watch the way your eyebrows furrow in pleasure and humiliation, to lick the tears from the corners of your eyes before he shoves that tongue back into your mouth.

“look at you,” sukuna purrs, breath hot against your neck, “so full of me.” 

and you are: face covered in sweat and the spit from sukuna’s second tongue when he dragged it across your face to let you revel in the size. it envelops you, the mouth on his stomach, a chasm whose depths you don’t know. 

you kissed it then but ride it now, drowning in the sensation of warmth and wetness and lightning. it is too soft and too rough all at once, encompassing everything between your thighs and then some – every fold, every crevice, every trace. you do not know how many orgasms sukuna’s tongue has pulled from you. you do not have the words to ask.

“i–” you sob, convulsing as the tip of his tongue prods at your cunt, as sukuna forces you to ride it harder, faster, like he cannot get enough. your eyes fall shut against the pleasure. “i–”

“you what?” but he does not care; his voice is laughing. a finger taps your eyelids. “eyes on me.” 

you burn beneath his red gaze. his four eyes, light with amusement, devour your disheveled state, the drool on the corner of your lip. he drags his tongue across the place and savors the nectar, watching your expression dissolve with a terrible grin.

his second tongue wanders, enjoys the pleasure of your clit like it owns you. you think you might die from the heat of it. you think that sukuna wants to eat you until you are entirely raw.

“fuck,” you cry, but you can’t hear yourself over the roar in your ears. “i'm, i'm gonna–” 

sukuna’s hands tighten around your waist and press you down, down, until you are grinding against him like your life depends on it, until you could melt beneath his touch. his tongue is insatiable: it does the trick. you fall apart with a choked sob, muscles beyond your control, thought beyond your being. the world reduces to sukuna’s first tongue in your mouth to stifle your cries and sukuna’s second tongue in your cunt to taste the reward seeping out. 

but the moment does not fade; you do not think the tension will leave you. you think you are condemned forever to feel the weightlessness of your limbs and the pile of nothing in your brain. 

sukuna’s eyes sparkle with a violence you will not name. as your orgasm recedes, he moves your body down, down, until you rest not against the soft expanse of his tongue but something else entirely.

“well then,” he says, demure, eyes full of fire. “i think you’re ready to take me now.”