Prologue: Sunday Morning Scandal

prologue: sunday morning scandal

— don’t judge a book by its cover. unless the book is a six foot tall, dimpled muscle pig who has no problem bragging about the notches on his belt… not to mention his new unhinged determination to add you to the list.

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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! + if you’ve asked to be on my permanent taglist, you do not need to ask to be added to this one !!

this fic started off so cute and fluffy how did i end up writing smut-

scrumptious. delicious. 5 star michelin.

ও pairing :: deity!sukuna x black!fem reader

ও ⸻ a certain being has been appearing in her dreams, at times they feel like nightmares. dreams so vivid and intimate that she could feel his gentle touches hours after she's woken. the thing on her mind is...who is he?

ও content warnings :: true form sukuna, possessive sukuna, suggestive content (?) mentions of therapy, medication usage, small text intended, i was going to write the smut part for this part I couldn't get into it—but I might later on at another time.

a/n: i'm back from my mini break ♡

“YOU SAID YOU KEEP SEEING HIM IN YOUR DREAMS?” in the middle of the quiet earth toned room, Y/N felt the tension building in her soul. Nervously fiddling with her brown acrylic nails—it didn’t dawn on her until now—she thought she was going insane or something. She had to be. Tightly squeezing her eyes, Y/N hung her head lowly in what almost felt like shame. She let herself fall in the depths of her mind, constantly thinking of who this figure could be. Was he a demon? Has someone cursed her? This man who haunted her dreams for the past six months, time and time again telling her that one day she would be his. Y/N remember the first night she had that dream so vividly, it was Friday night—a self care night. The herbal bath, the rose petals sprinkled along the water’s surface, the $250 Japanese face mask. The beige lace and satin slip dress and the matching bonnet she wore to sleep that night. Looking back on it, she was basically preparing herself for him.

“Y/N—seems like you went away just now. You said you keep seeing him in your dreams. What does he look like?” Her therapist questioned subconsciously writing in their leather notebook. Her hands squeezed into a fist, just thinking about him caused her great anxiety—but deep down inside Y/N yearned for him. Every night falling asleep at the same exact time, afraid that if she was off by a single second it would run the risk of not seeing him again. “Listen, I know this causes you a great deal of stress and I would rather it not. Let’s start from the top, okay?”

With a slight nod, Y/N let out a shaky breath, “I—uh—well. You asked what he looked like. Well, he obviously is not human. There’s no way he could be, his appearance is menacing, you know?” Despite being a wonderful essayist, Y/N had a terribly hard time verbalizing the things that were affecting her, especially this. “He had f-four arms and tattoos all over his body. D-during the first recurring dream, he sat atop a throne that was on this mountain of fucking skulls—I couldn’t tell if they belonged to animals or something else. In one of his right arms he was holding this really weird spear or like a trident thing. For what felt like a few minutes, he just stared at me—smirking—with his head on his chin. And before I could get the chance to ask his name. The dream is over.”

“You said the first recurring dream? How many are they all together?”

Patting out the wrinkles in her pleated skirt, Y/N let out a long sigh, “So far it’s been three. The first dream—the one I told you about—I kept having for about a month, then it was the second one—um—us, as in he and I—inside of a bedroom. Before anything could happen the dreams end again. Before I get any real answers the dreams end, they always end—”

“Look, if you want my honest assessment I think your subconscious is trying to tell you something. The being with the four arms could just be a representation of your subconscious mind. Are there things in your life you’re trying to ignore? Could that be the reason you can receive these dreams?”

Of course there were things she was trying to ignore but she couldn't accept that—mainly because that was nonsense. There was no way that her avoiding conversations with her mom and various assignments could trigger weird dreams with that thing. However, she had not mentioned to her therapist that she saw statues of the figure in her recent trip to a national art museum. His figure was even more imposing than in her dreams, the most intimidating statue resided in the very back of the ancient Japanese art section. The description spoke of nameless deity in the Japanese mytho—one whose name and past was erased from history. The only things that remained were many statues and figurines dedicated to him found in an abandoned shrine.

The night following that trip ended with her finally having that second dream. The one that took place in the large bedroom, she remembered waking up in a cold sweat—she could feel the lingering feeling of his lips on her brown skin. “Maybe that visit was a bad idea—” Y/N confessed to her sleeping pet, “I mean—think about it—how could I tell them that I saw that stupid statue of him.” Honestly, her meager therapy visit left her with more questions than answers and it wasn’t like another night of sleep could bring her any more information.

After another night of more research brought her very little satisfaction she ended her night with the same routine as before—however on this breezy spring night she decided to leave her window open. Light from the full moon illuminated her bedroom creating a dozen unidentifiable shadows across her white walls. At a point even the even moon itself appeared a bit distorted under her drowsy gaze.

“If you wanted to know my name so badly—all you had to do was ask. Such a cute little thing, doing all the research on that measly computer.” That condescending tone was all too familiar. Bursts of heat rose to her skin’s surface as she gazed over his dominant figure, he didn’t need to say much for Y/N to feel the intensity building up in her being—every inch of her skin felt like it was on fire. Was this—fear? “You wanna know who I am? Don’t you?” He inquired, prominent muscles flexed his robe as he slowly pulled off the duvet covering her body. A low growl escaped his chest once he laid eyes on the thin tank top covering her perky nipples.

Y/N could only nod as the words she wanted to speak wouldn’t dare come up. “Ryomen Sukuna. Can you say that, my love?” Her big brown eyes traveled over his body, unable to muster up the response he wanted to hear. Sukuna chuckled slowly, “Don’t worry, Y/N. Tonight you’ll have many chances to scream it.”

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I hope y'all like my unfinished wip lol, i'd post something else soon (it'll be finish I promise)

It is a painful truth that actually none of my fics are abandoned, no, not even the ones that haven’t updated in five years. I still know exactly what happens next, and after that, and so on. They’re not abandoned; they’re right here, haunting me, characters climbing up my pants like kittens nagging for dinner.

i stay lying unprovoked but this time i mean it, i finishing my wips this weekend

wait hollup, now im nervous🥲

new ukai smut finna hit the streets. if its bad please dont throw tomatoes at me. now i got to tag this fic to hell