Ryoumen Sukuna X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Wild at Heart

Pairing: Sukuna x fem!Reader, Gojo x fem!Reader, Toji x fem!Reader

Word count for the first chapter: just a bit under 3k

Warnings and tags for the series: 18+, Explicit Language, Porn With Plot, Reader’s nickname is Cupid, Jealousy, Angst, Sexual Tension, Explicit Sexual Content, Jujutsu Kaisen Manga Spoilers, Canon Rewrite, Suggestive Themes, Flirting, Sex, Desire, Sexual Content, Mystery, Lies, Manipulation, Secrets, Jealous!Sukuna, Possessive!Sukuna, Manipulative!Sukuna, Jealous!Gojo, DILF!Toji, Sukuna and Gojo are bad at feelings

Summary: In which the King of Curses, the Strongest Sorcerer, and the Sorcerer Killer find themselves entangled in the cobweb of your desire.

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sweet lies [03.final]

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. toxic! megumi, SEXY TOXIC MEGUMI 🥵, toxic college settings, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, orgasm denial, explicit smut, car sex, biting, scratching, sukuna is a sex god, MEGUMI WITH A LIP RING, slight angst

note. FINALLY FINISHED THIS SERIES AAAAHHH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS I HAD A LOT OF FUN WITH THIS SERIES TYSM FOR EVERYTHING! lotsa lub lub for each and everyone of you! anyways let me just say…sweet lies sukuna can politely rail me.

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

It’s…a different story when you have to move back and forth between your newly made acquaintance slash fuck buddy, Sukuna, to your actual fuck buddy and crush, Megumi.

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@damnatiomemoriae4 saving this for later, tags are tasty as hell

I. ~𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥~

Pairing: Trueform!Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were determined to survive, longer than anyone, even if you were set to marry him.

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Not edited/revised, Dark themes, mentions of r*pe, dubcon/noncon, crying during sex, Slight voyeurism if you squint, mention of suicidal thoughts, Y/n being sacrificed, Pet names (Y/n called Little Flower 2x) mentions of murder, language/swearing

(There is no actual smut in this fic, but there is a vague sex scene)

Word count: 2.5k

Notes: I literally wrote this during a tornado warning٩(˘◡˘)۶. ALSO, I'm still debating on making this a series or not, my original intention was for it to be a one-shot, but I think it has the potential of being a short series. Lemme know your thoughts. (•◡•) /

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules•

• Pt. I • Pt. II •

Ryomen Sukuna is a man feared by all. Rumors that talked of the four-armed, two-faced man were far from false. The smoke that could be seen in the neighboring village and the few survivors that managed to escape were proof of that. No matter how you worded the question, the survivors came up with the same answer, saying that it was none other than the infamous Ryomen Sukuna that resulted in the demise of their village.

So, when the man of the hour came to your village, demanding some sort of tribute, you could have never predicted the fear and panic that went around. Families praying for the protection of their children, criminals seeking forgiveness for their sins, children painting the face of the four-armed monster in their nightmares.

It did not take long for the elders to start looking for solutions to the current situation. They had cooped themselves in the courtroom for several days before emerging. They had all the locals gather at the center, announcing that the village would pay tribute by having one daughter that was of age, from every household, be presented to Ryomen Sukuna, monthly.

That is how you ended up here; today is your wedding day.

Marriage, it is a union between two individuals, usually lovers, but you could not consider Ryomen Sukuna as a lover or individual nor could you view this occasion as a marriage – it was a sacrifice.

You blankly stared out the window in front of you as your mother, sisters, and fellow maidens assisted you in putting on your ceremonial robes. Your silence and blank stare thickened the tension in the room.

“You must be very excited Y/n,” a maiden, no older than sixteen, who you recognized as your neighbor, claimed, trying to lighten the mood.

Your jaw noticeably clenched as she uttered those words, bringing the girl to lower her head, feeling guilty.

Although the girl has no desire to marry the man either, she had heard rumors that some of the girls who had been given to him lived luxurious lives in the temple, some rumors even saying they were happy with children. She assumed that even though the scenario wasn't ideal, it was better than having to live in fear of Sukuna killing them.

However, you would prefer death over marrying and consummating with that man. The thought of being married and being bedded to a murderer, rapist, cannibal, and overall monster, was far worse than death in your opinion.

There had been many times you thought of killing yourself before the day of your marriage, but you could not get the image of your family's horrified faces, to find their dearest Y/n dead, out of your head.

"Would you be excited to marry him?"

The girl stared at you in shock as you asked that question, trying to find her words.

"W-w-well I..."

"It's a yes or no question, it should not take that much thought," you simply uttered, looking forward as the girl fumbled with your kimono, "So is it a yes or no?"

"N-no, I have no desire to marry him," she stuttered, avoiding eye contact.

"Then why would you ask me if I'm looking forward to marrying him?"

The girl was at a loss for words, but with a big swallow, she tried to voice her thoughts.

"I've heard many rumors of the women that are currently married to him are living with luxury and that some are living happily with children."

You could only sigh as you heard her reasoning. What she said could have been true, but that didn't mean that living with Sukuna would be all sunshine and blue skies.

Before you could respond your mother jumped in, shutting down the conversation before you could say something that would hurt the girl's feelings unintentionally.

"Alright, that's enough for now, if someone could hand me the kanzashi we will be finished," she said sternly.

One of your sister's hands your mother the kanzashi, your mother gently placing it in after receiving it.

"Alright, time to clear out girls, let us give Y/n some space before her ceremony," your mother said as she touched up your hair.

As everyone started to leave through the sliding door, your mother paused and turned around.

She felt pity for her daughter, but she would never show that, knowing it would only provoke you.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, slightly turning back to look at your mother.

“I know that it is inconvenient Y/n,” your mother said, dismay laced in her voice

“Inconvenient is putting it lightly, don’t you think,” you finally responded, turning you're head to look out the window again.

Your mother sighed as she approached your figure, turning you around to get a better look at your face.

You hung your head low, too embarrassed to look into her eyes.

Placing her hand under your chin, your mother lifted your head to get a better look at your features.

"You have lovely eyes Y/n,” she stated softly, looking into your (e/c) eyes, moving her hands up to hold your face, swiping a piece of hair behind your ear, “Use that to your advantage and survive,” she said before reaching out to embrace you.

"I promise I will survive– longer than anyone."

You immediately returned her embrace, allowing a few stray tears to fall as you held your mother for what you knew would be the last time.

She pets your hair gently as to not ruin the work put into your hairstyle, softly humming a soft lullaby she would sing to you as a kid, hoping that it would bring you comfort.

The embrace was short-lived as your father and brothers, younger and older, made themselves present.

"It's time to go Y/n," your father said gravely, approaching you and giving you a small embrace before escorting you out of the room.

It was silent.

As you walked down the path, you could see the look of pity on almost everyone's faces. You swore that you could see some tears being shed, but for all the wrong reasons.

In all honestly, the pity was pissing you off because you knew after today a lot of the people present would forget that you ever existed. Once you went behind the doors of Sukuna's temple, you would be forgotten and most likely never seen again.

There had been few girls in the past that had left the temple, but they were always accompanied by someone, most likely to keep them quiet of what life was like inside the temple.

As you walked down towards your husband-to-be, you could only wonder how drastically your life would change, the thought building up fear in your bosom.

So, ultimately, it disgusted you when you eventually heard a bunch of girls giggling and gossiping about how you were lucky to be marrying such a 'handsome' man, probably believing the rumors going around about the luxurious and happy life of being one of Sukuna's wives.

The thought of any girl being excited for the kind of life you were about to endure, made you fearful.

Your thoughts came to halt when you noticed you were standing in front of the man of the hour, Ryomen Sukuna.

You had only seen him once from a distance so you didn't have all that much of an accurate image of him, so you were always led to go off the rumors and so far they were far from false.

He was tall in stature, had four arms and two faces, and had black markings that would make the occasional appearance on his body.

There were even rumors of him having a mouth on his abdomen, but because of the occasion, his kimono was covering his upper body so you couldn't tell.

You were pulled from your evaluation when he took your chin between his index finger and thumb, looking directly into your eyes.

In order not to see right through you, you made sure to calm your rapidly beating heart and you made sure to keep a lifeless expression on your face; a mask to hide your lingering fear.

“Did you bring me a corpse?” Sukuna started, referring to the lifeless expression you masked yourself with, “It’s as if you're unsatisfied to see me, Little Flower.”

You shook her head, not wanting to offend him, fearing he might kill you on the spot.

“Do you not know how to use your words then?” Sukuna asked, effectively pushing your buttons.

Once again, you shook your head.

“Then speak.”

“Yes, my lor-” you tried voicing, but he interrupted you by using his fingers to squish your rosy cheeks together.

“No need for the formalities, Little Flower,” Sukuna said, the teasing smirk still present on his face, “We’ll be married in a few seconds after all.”

Married.

Could it even be considered marriage, he already had many wives? You felt as if you were more of a concubine, another thought that disgusted you because that was the last thing you would ever want to refer to yourself as, but it was true. You were nothing more than a sheath for his cock, nothing more than a child bearer.

You hated how vulnerable you were in this moment, but before you could dwell on it, the elders began to approach.

“This is Y/n L/n, from the L/n’s clan of course. She is a very beautiful woman, beloved by all of her family and neighbors, especially the children, they almost view her as a mother figure,” the elders paused for a second to see Sukuna’s reaction. When they saw the man give you, his bride, a once-over they decided to continue with their little speech, “ The L/n clan have a fine cursed technique that continues to run through their bloodline, Y/n herself possesses the technique, however, she isn’t all that skilled in using it, but the sons she will bear for you can be trained to master it.”

The sons she will bear for you

How revolting, they were talking about you as if you were a bitch being sold for breeding. It would not be surprising if they did a full-body inspection not long after this.

As they began wrapping up on informing Sukuna on the benefits of receiving you as a wife, one of the elders began walking towards you.

“Do you Y/n L/n, promise to provide Ryomen Sukuna with healthy and strong sons?” the elder asked, a revolting smile painted on his face.

Regardless of your disgust towards the man, you managed to utter a yes, concluding the festival.

You watched as the crowd turned, retreating to their homes, realizing you would have to do the same, but it would not be the home you had grown up in, it would be the home that your current husband resided in. It was a place you would reside in for the rest of your life, most likely never being allowed to leave, like a prison.

Before turning towards your newfound husband, you caught a glimpse of your family. They had stayed further behind trying to get one last good look at you because they would most likely never see you again.

You wanted to run up and give them one final embrace, but a heavy hand that was set upon your shoulder stopped you from doing so.

“Shall we go home and fulfill the last of our marital duties,” Sukuna whispered in your ear.

His voice made you shiver, but not out of anticipation as one may think, but rather disgust. This part of marriage would be the part you hated the most, consummation.

Consummation was the last step of sealing your marriage.

When you arrived at the temple, it did not take long for Sukuna to begin leading you to his quarters. You followed him, trying to stay as far as you possibly could, but every time you tried he would slow down and hover his hand behind your back to keep you from running.

You could feel eyes on your form, most likely all his other wives trying to get a glance at the new edition. Their stares left you embarrassed and disgusted. They all knew what was going to happen, they all knew how uncomfortable you were. While some tried preserving your dignity by looking away and leaving, others were dripping with arousal, the smell was evident.

You tried ignoring it, focusing on the interior of the temple, but your nerves were still getting the best of you.

You eventually were led into a room, that's door was held open by a man no older than you were, which you assumed were Sukuna's chambers, your assumption turning out to be correct.

You stood in the middle of the room, fiddling with the sleeves of your kimono. You were trying to find anything to distract you from the stare Sukuna was giving you right now.

You felt as if you were prey being hunted as he began to circle you, looking up and down your figure.

"Have you ever been touched by a man?" he asked suddenly.

"No," you quickly responded, your voice cracking slightly.

"Why not?"

You had no idea why he wanted to know the reason for you never having sex, but you had to answer him.

"I was waiting for marriage," you simply said.

Sukuna grunted in response before he stopped circling you to stand behind you. His hands would occasionally brush over the small of your back, your waist, and your shoulders.

It stayed like that for a few minutes before he spoke.

"Take off your clothes," he said sternly, gesturing one of his hands toward the bed.

As you started to walk toward the front of the bed, you became reluctant in taking off your clothing, fiddling with your bow, not making any effort to take it off.

You started to hear the door close, the man that was there probably beginning to leave, but then there was a sudden slam.

"Who gave you permission to leave," Sukuna said, a hint of venom laced in his voice, "Stay and watch, you may learn a thing or two."

Sukuna's words horrified you.

A tear began to run down your cheek as you heard Sukuna's heavy footsteps approach you. At this point, he was hovering over your shoulder.

"I won't ask again. Take. Off. Your. Clothes," he impatiently whispered.

You stood there feeling as if you were paralyzed, blankly staring at the sheets, mouth slightly agape.

Growing even more impatient Sukuna took the back of your kimono, ripping it in half while slowly bending you down to the bed, face first.

Soon enough you heard his own clothes shuffle to the ground, leaving you mortified.

He unexpectedly entered you in one go, making you gasp in pain. You continuously gasped and screamed as the pain continued to worsen as he roughly continued.

You remembered your mother's words and repeated them in your head, trying to bring solace to your mind.

𝑆𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑒

𝑆𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑒

𝑆𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑒

You cried the entire time. Even after he finished you laid there, silently sobbing before passing out.

The next morning you woke up, your face was lifeless, you felt lifeless. You could hardly process the previous night's events. The memory left you with an urge to find a weapon and end your suffering, but before you could go looking for one, you remembered the promise you made to your mother.

Holding your fist to your chest you muttered those words.

"I promise that I'll survive, longer than anyone."

Respond With Cruelty

 -ˋˏ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪs ᴀᴍᴀʙ / ᴀᴏ3 ᴠᴇʀsɪᴏɴ / ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ / ᴡᴄ: 4041 ˏˋ-

Warnings: Dub-con, reader is lured in to Sukuna, true form!Sukuna, tongue blowjob, rough handling, no lube no prep anal, frotting, Sukuna has two dicks, humilation, popping teeth and forcing them back in, gore, captivity

AN: Happy JJK day!! This was/is my first AMAB fic and it was so much fucking fun to write!! Initially it was just Sukuna giving a blowjob but it evolved and got out of hand quickly but I still really love this aaa this weeks episode was so good so heres to celebrate

18+ Blog only! Minors DNI!

Sukuna towered over you – no, it was more than that. The beast engulfed you in his large frame, all four hands encasing you as he carefully ground his knee into your erection. Each brush was intoxicating, surprisingly gentle considering his size, with just enough pressure to have your eyes rolling and hips meeting his motions for more. It doesn’t take long for you to forget about your situation, the environment, what demon is watching you with a wicked smirk. 

You were already a bumbling mess before him, sweating and trying to find purchase on anything you could. Bare feet slid on the concrete beneath, accidentally kicking Sukuna in the process and mumbling a pathetic ‘sorry’ after you made contact with the solid muscle on his ankle. With the way you’re acting, it’s as though he didn’t drag you into his shrine kicking and screaming, all the way up to his throne and tore all your clothes off in one fell swoop. Entirely at his mercy already, just from a little attention on your cock. 

Red eyes bore into you as you beg for mercy, more touches, the pleasure you desire, death. Your heart was racing, albeit from arousal and desperation rather than fear, now. Each drag of his knee flipping over the head of your cock was delicious, but you need more. You need Sukuna to use one of those many hands of his on you, to touch your body and feel the size difference. His torso blocks the rest of his room from you, while his top two eyes keep you locked onto only him. The bottom set of eyes, one horizontal and the other vertical, were locked on your cock and his knee. How you wished to also watch both at the same time.  

Lured in by a pretty lady with promises of pleasure and fun, you fell for it hook line and sinker at first. Her hair was long and shiny, eyes sparkling with mischief as she took your hand in hers and pulled you towards the shrine. Who fucks in a shrine? You thought, but when you verbalised your suspicions, she placated them with another promise. 

’There’s more women inside, you’re gonna love them.’

She was right, there were more women inside of the shrine. At first you thought this was heaven, surrounded by so many beautiful women that gave you attention; fed you, touched you, kissed you, complimented you. Nothing went further than some suggestive touches and light whispers before Sukuna made his appearance. You were supposed to be nothing more than food for him, but your spark piqued his interest to play with his food just a little. 

Obviously you didn’t get away. Normally people will submit themselves and accept fate when they end up this far. Bellies full of food, genitals pulsing with arousal, happiness soaring through their veins. It’s a better way to die than most, plus their blood tastes sweeter that way.

“Such a brat.” Sukuna commented, tongue running along his sharp teeth as he grinned. You still looked like a five star meal to him – he’ll have to reward his concubines for catching someone so juicy. “Are you gonna try and run again?” 

Fear runs through you again, same as when you were first caught, a ghostly feeling of his large hands around your waist. You miss that, need him to touch you like that again; pin you down so easily with just one of his hands, utilising the other three on the rest of your body. You’re just a doll to him; a doll with a cock and voice box. 

You shake your head rapidly, tears in your eyes as your whole body shakes too. The throne was uncomfortable, you’re swamped in its size and having to reach almost your full length to hold on to either arm. An outsider would think you are stupid for not thinking the skulls that decorated and bones that made up the chair would be real. The strange sensation of bone and not plastic under your hands was terrifying, letting out a scream in surprise and attempting to grip onto one of his forearms instead. 

The way he scowled and quickly pulled away from your touch shouldn’t have been as wounding as it was, acting as though your touch was acid that burned him. You felt offended, anger and sadness burning a hole in your chest at the mere implication, but you were quickly reminded of who was before you. A large, clawed hand grabbed your chin, pointed nails digging into the flesh of your cheeks and cutting into you like butter. All four of his eyes were on you now, his knee pulled back and his two lower hands wrapped around your waist. 

“Did I give you permission to touch me?” A gulp and an attempt to shake your head, his grip tightening easily and you cried out in pain as your teeth and jaw were pushed by the force.

“No.” You managed to mumble out, lips puckered and distorted due to his hand. He squeezed again and you felt one of your teeth pop and fall to the back of your throat. 

“Did I give you permission to speak?”

This would be a little easier to handle if he was grinding your cock again – touching it in some form, giving you friction like you deserve after his teasing. You remain silent this time, heavy breathing through your nose and squeezing your fists at your sides. There’s nowhere to run, nor can you fight. Although, before you’re eaten, you do wanna see what’s under that black sirwal. 

Sukuna releases your face, spitting the tooth into your hands at your lap in shock, blood dripping from your lips and onto your hand to surround the piece. There was no pain, only panic and fear that numbed you entirely. Sticking your tongue in the new hole, your mouth was filled with blood and the taste of copper. You didn’t notice your hands shaking when Sukuna plucked the tooth from your hand, inspecting the tiny white piece between his large fingers. He grins, his own white, sharp teeth on show for you. 

“Do you want me to put it back in? Teeth are valuable to humans.” 

As much as the idea of his fingers in your mouth makes your cock ache, there’s a feeling of nausea in your stomach that makes you shake your head. With a tut, your jaw was held in his hand again and forced open. There was no time to scream or thrash as he held you down, the same hand that held your tooth jamming itself into your mouth. His hand was so big, but he didn’t seem to care or take account for how he would fit in the way he stretches you beyond your limits. Playing around with humans is fun, especially when they give him the satisfaction he desires. It’s boring if they submit to him easily; don’t give into the chase or fight him at every corner. The way your teeth graze against his knuckles was the fight he desires – nothing but light kitten scratches on him, you were proving to be more playful than the last few sacrifices. 

Large hands kept you in place; one splayed along your stomach and torso to hold you down to the back of the throne, an awkward angle where if Sukuna pushed any more, your spine would snap at a 90 degree angle. Another hand moved between your legs and cock, running fingers and sharp claws over your length in a threat of pain or pleasure, pinning a leg down if you were thrashing enough to bother him. A third hand kept your face in place, looking up at him with tears in your eyes from the pain. Salty tears ran over his digits and tickled; swept up by a long, warm tongue in a reminder of how inhuman Sukuna can be.

The tooth was pushed back into place, claws scratching up your gums and tongue, the piece being squeezed into the hole painfully. When Sukuna finally removed his hand, you gasped in pain and clearer airways, shouting in pain when he let you go entirely. Lower arms crossed across his stomach and upper arms on his hips, Sukuna watched you writhe in pain on his throne. You were so tiny in such a big chair – it makes him excited. 

“Don’t be so pathetic.” Sukuna commanded you, unfolding his arms to use his index finger on the bottom of your chin, tugging you up to look at him. Tongue swiping across his lips, he grinned. “You’re quite entertaining for a human.” 

It feels like a compliment, but the throb in your mouth and blood running down your chin makes it feel like mocking. Red eyes peer down at you, monstrous and sinister, there’s nothing good about his gaze. And yet you feel your insides churn in the best and worst way possible, hands itching to touch yourself in front of him, hoping to encourage him to pleasure you. Temptation has always been a weak point for you, unable to stop yourself from giving in at the first chance you get – almost impulsive by nature. 

Sukuna’s grin became wider as all four of his eyes peered down at you touching yourself, a pathetic moan tore through your lungs as you fucked your fist at breakneck speeds. If he wasn’t going to keep pleasuring you, then you were going to do it yourself. Fit to explode, your hips jerked uncontrollably with every swipe of your hand along your length, jaw agape as you stare up at the creature before you. Leaning forward, his hot breath was on your face, emphasising the size difference further. His mouth was so big, he could devour you if he really wanted to; take off over half your face with one bite of his sharp teeth. 

Instead, your hand was roughly removed from your cock, creating the most pathetic whine you didn’t think you were capable of. Both wrists were in his grasp, moved above your head and locked in place with one hand. You needed to get off, the build in your core dissipating when close to your release, balls aching with desperation. Maybe this was your payment for trying to not only indulge in lust with those women, but with a demonic curse whose intent is to kill you. 

Fingers wrapped around your ankle and pull you closer to him, bare skin dragging against the concrete and bones of the throne beneath you. A shout of pain was quickly turned into a moan when something hot and wet ran along your balls and the base of your shaft. Your back was laid across the seat of the throne, plenty of room to lay down and Sukuna to hover over you. His eyes were locked onto yours again, all four of them watching you with interest. Daring to break away, you look down with a gasp.

A tongue was protruding from a slit in Sukuna’s stomach; flesh split apart to make room for the second mouth, seamless when closed and hiding teeth just as sharp, a tongue even bigger and longer than the one on his face. Fear and pleasure were more overwhelming than before at the sight, the long muscle tapered at the end flicked the skin of your balls and elicited a groan, running the base along each ball and wrapping around them. 

It was unreal – a feeling like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. It was finally the pleasure you seeked for so long, but you can feel the strength behind him just from the second mouth. The tongue moved to your length, lapping at the precum that consistently leaked and pooled along your stomach; tears built up in your eyes when it ran along your weeping slit, pathetic cries bouncing off of the walls. 

You couldn’t help but try and wiggle in his grasp, though it was fruitless as his grip was strong and confident in your smaller limbs. Still holding your wrists and ankle, all you could do was watch as the abnormal tongue wrapped around your cock or watch Sukuna’s face above you. Two of his eyes had drifted this time, his bottom two again, down to your twitching cock. The attention was almost as painful as the terror that ran through you, never able to settle and allow yourself to enjoy this due to the fact he can kill you at any point. 

“Are you going to cum?” Sukuna asks, seemingly breathless himself, but you don’t pick up on it. 

If your head wasn’t so clouded with lust you’d have noticed the way he mindlessly jerked his hips back and forth too, black fabric expertly hiding the bulge beneath that waved with each small thrust. Instead, you could barely manage a nod between shameless moans and groans, pathetic whimpers that no one has ever been able to pull from you before. Your balls were pulling up to your body as you came closer to the edge, cock twitching with each stroke of the tongue wrapped around your length, nails digging into the palms of your hands as you’re kept in place. 

Sukuna leaned forward, noses almost touching – or at least his nose touching you. He was enjoying this as much as you were, relishing in the pathetic moan that’s drawn out from your lungs as you came all over yourself. It was painful, so worked up and cumming so hard but it felt so good. More tears appeared in the rim of your eyes, unable to look away from Sukuna’s. In your orgasmic haze, they were truly mesmerising. If this were a cartoon, there’d be hearts in your eyes for the monster. 

You continue to make pathetic noises when his stomach tongue laps at your chest and neck of your cum, Sukuna grunting and top lip twitching in a snarl - it makes you wonder if he can taste with his other tongue. The feel of him lapping up your release made you groan, wet muscle dancing along your torso and flexing against his hold again. Before you can finish indulging in the aftermath of your release, you were dragged off of the throne and onto the floor by your ankle. 

A noise of surprise left you, followed by one of pain when you hit the concrete. Sukuna threw himself into the chair; his rightful throne, of which you were using your smaller body to warm it up for him. You look up from your position on the floor, your head clearing his knee. This could be your chance to escape, run away again and hope he kills you this time. There’s a funny feeling in the pit of your stomach that tells you you’re not making it out of here alive – so why not try and make your grand escape? 

Except he knows how to keep you interested. 

One fist was propped up on the arm of his throne, holding up his head as he stared down at you, a lazy grin on his lips. Another hand was palming himself through his pants, wrapping his fist around the length and giving you  an idea of just how big he was. Everything else about him was huge; why wouldn’t his cock be?

You swallow thick and watch as he continues to stroke himself through his pants, cock already twitching back to life in interest of what he has hiding beneath the fabric. Sukuna never did show you what’s under there like you’d hoped, but it would be nice seeing it before you die. 

Using his leg to aid you, you crawl onto your knees and then into his lap, legs stretched painfully so to accommodate the width of his thighs as you sit on them. Your eyes were drifting from his face and down to his bulge, watching with shame as the grin grew wider and those sharp teeth were on show again. Sukuna didn’t wait much longer before hooking his thumb under the elastic of his sirwal, pulling the fabric down and releasing one cock, then two. 

He has two fucking cocks?

You blink and stare; not only are they huge, but there’s two of them. This was definitely more than you bargained for, and Sukuna chuckled low in his throat at the attention, “Have you gone shy?” 

There’s no way one is going to fit inside of you – in your mouth or your ass. Not without doing some severe and irreversible damage. At the same time, you may not have a choice in the matter as they both twitch under your gaze. One sits atop another, almost like his arms, and are identical in size and length. You can’t wrap your hand around one of them, your heart pounding with excitement. 

“Permission… To speak?” You try quietly, unsure of yourself but your hand slowly and cautiously rubs up and down his cock. 

Sukuna hums, still resting his head on his fist, watching your face and your hand. It seems like he’s thinking about it – and he genuinely was. He doesn’t like his food talking back to him, though you already felt confident enough to touch him again without permission. You’re a funny little thing; he doesn’t like you, rather intrigued by you. 

“Permission granted.” Sukuna responds with a grin still, adjusting the way he sits ever so slightly and shuffling you in his lap. 

You actually didn’t expect to be given permission to speak. What you wanted to say had almost been wiped away from your mind, going blank and panicked. With a furrow of your brow, you muster up as much confidence as you can. 

“How do you want me to pleasure you? I don’t think I can take you.” 

Sukuna raises a brow, the only one he has on the ‘human’ part of his face. The hand on his cock stops, though not for long as one of his idle hands wraps around yours and moves again. 

“A bold statement for someone who hasn’t even tried.” A cold shiver went up your spine. “I’ll make you take me, whether it kills you or not.” 

That same hand that was enveloped in Sukuna’s was pulled away from his cock, body nudged forward and held up by his bottom two arms, nails digging into sensitive flesh as he held you above his lower cock. You shake your head, tears beginning  again as the fear overtook any pleasure you can foresee from this act. Regret was heavy in your heart for daring to speak, the audacity to dare such a creature into possibly giving you any kind of mercy. Anal without any prep is a painful nightmare normally, nevermind with a cock that’s twice the size of a human. 

Of course, Sukuna didn’t care. If anything, he seemed to take pleasure in the way your hands shake and grasp onto his chest for leverage, the tip of his cock prodding against your hole. It was happening whether you wanted it or not, nails digging into the marked chest that were barely scratches to the beast. The room was filled with your cries of pain and agony as you’re split open, vision fuzzy with the pain that tore through you. Your noises encouraged him further, biting his lip as he lowered you further onto his length. 

Eventually, you were sat as far down as you could go, nearly to the base of his shaft and dizzy with the feeling. Never have you felt so full before, a throbbing ache and your whole body shaking. Looking up at Sukuna, who had lifted his head now, you silently pleaded for mercy – how foolish of you. 

Sukuna did the moving for you; two hands on your hips bouncing you on his cock, short and fast strokes to help encourage your hole to stretch and loosen around him. Blood ran down his length and your legs, hot and fast like the tears down your face. Your hands remained on his chest, splayed against pale skin and one of the only things you can look at as the pain was immeasurable. The word ‘please’ hung on the tip of your tongue, desperate to beg and plead with him as the pain made you feel faint, but it never came out – not even to be killed and given mercy. 

After you had loosened up enough, Sukuna began moving you in longer strokes. It still hurts; your whole body throbbing, everything leaking with tears, blood and drool. However, the pain had gotten to a point where you were almost numb to it all, hints of pleasure shooting up your cock as you rubbed against his other. It felt like you weren’t in your own body, unable to answer if asked what possessed you to grab his and your cocks to hold them together with both hands in a pathetic display. 

You consider yourself to have a generous sized cock; longer than average, thicker than average but nothing in comparison to Sukuna. His cock swamped yours in size, letting out a pathetic moan at the sight of you pushed together. It added to the pleasure rubbing up on him like this, Sukuna grinning as he watched you. You squeezed whenever your heads were connected, underside of each other brushing and frenulums touching in a sensitive spot for you. This made the experience a little easier and the fire in your core burned brighter. 

“I don’t think I can take you.” Sukuna mocked you, a huff of a laugh vibrating through your bones. “Damn brat.” 

There was no more embarrassment or shame to be had left. You were even beginning to bounce yourself on his cock as best you can, moving with his hands in the same rhythm he had you. Everything still hurts immensely, yet the thought of being filled with his seed encourages you to keep going. Since everything else about him is bigger and more excessive, surely his loads are massive between two cocks. 

Moans could be heard between your huffs of breath, allowing yourself to be used like a toy as he moved you, hitting your prostate with each thrust. Bulbous head of his cock slamming into you with the lowering of your body, pulling you up to squeeze your heads together. It was quite the sight seeing Sukuna breathless, eyes dark with lust as you watched him edge closer to his own release. 

As expected, you came much sooner than he did and the pain began again. Your seed was left alone this time, guiding your cock to cum on your chest again with a groan and releasing Sukuna’s second dick. He didn’t give you a second to process anything, enjoy your second and arguably more powerful orgasm, as he continued to fuck himself with you. 

Pain, pain, pain.

Pathetic groans of anguish and exhaustion were all that echoed from you, Sukuna’s harsh breathing and your flaccid cock slapping against his still erect one. You wished for it to be over; either kill you or cum, unsure how much longer you can stand without the mix of pleasure sweetening the experience. Black was beginning to creep into your vision like a vignette picture, slowly losing control of your limbs and feeling weak and heavy in his grasp. 

You were barely conscious to experience his release, groaning as he came inside of you and onto himself. Both cocks spurted out ropes of cum, twitching as one was held inside of you and coated your insides. He just kept going and going, filling you up to a point where his seed was leaking out and mixing with the blood from your hole. A feeling better than you could’ve ever imagined; you were just upset you were barely conscious to cherish it. 

Carelessly pulled off of Sukuna, he all but tosses you back onto your feet, scraping your knees and feet as you try and keep yourself from falling face first. 

He hums, pulling the fabric of his sirwal up with one hand and flicking the cum on his chest towards you with another. “I’m going to keep you for a little while – just until you start to bore me.” 

Oh how you wish to bore him quickly.

the other woman — ryomen sukuna.

“Do not mistake this for affection.” he warned, his voice low and rough. “I am still who I am. I am still the monster you should fear.” But you could only nod, your heart aching with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I know,” you whispered. “I know, but I’m still here.” And for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of softness in his eyes, a flicker of something that could almost be… understanding. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to reach him, one fragile step at a time.

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/no comfort, unhappy marriage, hurt, physical touch, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, grief, unhappy ending, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of illness, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 11k words

NOTE: this was always going to be long, because it's heartbreaking. and heartbreaking ones have to be something that has to be expressed well. i listened to this in a audio software like its a podcast and i actually liked it. the other woman by nina simone was the constant in the writing. also, this is the aftermath of ashes of love, which is a series i did about heian sukuna. anyway, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all <3

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YOU KNEW THAT YOU WERE THIS UNLUCKY. The moment you were born, there would be a bleak fate for you to live. You were an accidental child, and multiple times, your own mother had nearly miscarried. Perhaps even as a fetus, you had always known this. How cursed you were. Even if you had done nothing. 

When your mother brushed your hair as a child, she would tell you of how you were born. She said that when you breathed the air for the first time, you were melancholic in the silence to the world. Somehow knew that you were built for this miserable world. And every day since that day, you knew. You were meant to live life without true joyous jubilation.

It did not help that the day you were born, there was a lone dark star in the morning sky, one which had been considered a bad omen. And with that, the whispers of fate echoing long before you had even had consciousness to know. Your village nestled in the shadowed valleys of Hida province, a place of whispered dread and ancient pacts. And for the longest of times, the once prosperous Hida province was in turmoil. 

And so, in those days, if there was anyone who controlled the ruins of Hida, it was that god-like curse user Ryomen Sukuna. His name alone was a talisman against the unknown horrors that lurked beyond the mountains, a deity whose power and wrath commanded fear and reverence in equal measure. And all either quivered at the sight of him or drew fanatic fervor. 

The Ryomen clan, his kin at one point, were at war—embroiled in brutal conflicts with neighboring clans for so long. And this had been going on before you were even born. The blood had soaked the earth for so long that the soil seemed to thirst for it. And the people were exhausted. 

The clan struggled to maintain control over Hida for a long time now, their influence fraying like an old tapestry torn at the seams. And with that, a power vacuum had long been in existence. The chaos of the era was a tide that threatened to drown them all, and Ryomen Sukuna's protection became the last fragile hope for those who called this land their home.

Your parents spoke in hushed voices of the offerings, the sacrifices made by the villagers to appease their god, the man who can save them,  this man to fear and worship, Ryomen Sukuna. To ensure his protection, they said. For years, the sacrifices continued, the chosen ones becoming mere footnotes in a history written in blood and fear. 

It came upon you rather quickly when you were young and it struck you—that the villagers saw you not as one of their own, but as a piece on a board, a pawn destined for slaughter. A sacrifice to their god. You would be among the countless, one more life to be cast into the jaws of the demon god they all feared.

The day of your sacrifice came as the sky was painted with hues of blood and gold, a cruel irony that did not escape you. The air was heavy with incense and prayer, but there was no comfort in their muttered words, no solace in the chants that pleaded for Sukuna's mercy. They adorned you in ceremonial robes, marked with symbols and sigils, your skin painted with the sacred ink that was supposed to cleanse your soul before the offering.

You were led through the village, a procession of death that seemed to stretch on forever. The eyes that watched you pass were filled with a mixture of pity and relief—relief that it was not them, not their child, not their blood that would be spilled today. Mothers held their children close, men bowed their heads, and the elders chanted in a low, continuous hum that sent shivers down your spine.

At the shrine, they bound you to the altar, thick ropes biting into your skin as you stared at the sky, searching for a sign, a miracle that never came. The high priest began his incantation, his voice rising above the murmur of the crowd. You could feel the cold seep into your bones, the air around you thickening as if the very world held its breath.

And then, you felt it—the shift in the air, the heavy presence that pressed against your chest like a vice. You had never seen him before, but you knew it was Sukuna. The villagers gasped, a collective intake of breath as his form materialized from the shadows, a figure cloaked in malice and power.

His eyes, crimson and unforgiving, swept over you like a cold blade. You felt your heart hammer against your ribcage, fear clawing at your throat. You were nothing to him, just another offering, another desperate plea from a village clinging to survival.

Ryomen Sukuna smiled, a slow, cruel smile that sent a tremor through the crowd. He stepped forward, each movement a ripple in the air, as if reality itself bent to his will. You met his gaze, defiant in your fear, knowing that you were one of many. Countless lives had been given to him, countless souls lost to his hunger.

And now, it was your turn.

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YOU HAD NEVER EXPECTED TO MEET THE MAN IN THE FLESH. But before you stood this man, this god, with dark crimson eyes. Taller than any tree, intimidating than any curse. Frightening than hell itself. You could remember when you were younger. The whispers reached you before you even stepped foot in the shrine, everyone has. Tales of Ryomen Sukuna had traveled through the villages like the wind, carrying with them rumors that were both terrifying and tragic. 

You had always known that the man was delighted with the worship of the human people. But they said he had taken no other concubines, that he showed no interest in any woman who dared come near him.

And if he did, they were more likely to be servants than anything close to a concubine. And some were not so lucky. Some spoke in hushed tones, their voices trembling with fear, that he was a monster of unspeakable debauchery, one who had killed the women for even daring to breathe in his presence.

But the truth, as you had come to understand it, was far more tragic. At least from how you see it. The people of Hida knew—oh, they believed—the story was told long ago. There was someone who had been so loved long ago and most of all, by Sukuna.

Ryomen Hiromi, the one who had captured Sukuna's heart, the one he had loved beyond reason. There was another Sukuna a long time ago, many were aware. But there was nothing proven.

If anything, the children of Hiromi reject any notion of such a relationship. But the tale was woven into the very fabric of tales told, whispered among the elders late at night and shared in riddles among the children who barely understood the weight of what they spoke.

Hiromi, they said, had been his sun, his moon, his stars. A woman of beauty and strength, whose laughter could calm the wildest storms and whose voice was like the sweetest song. She had been the only one to ever touch his heart, to see the man beneath the demon god. But she was gone now, lost to time and tragedy, leaving Ryomen Sukuna to languish in his grief. 

No one dared speak her name aloud, not when Sukuna’s rage could split the earth itself. People have seen it. It was said he mourned her loss every day, that his fury was born from the emptiness she left behind. And that was why he would not tolerate any other woman. No one was going to be like her. None would match her wit, her beauty. Why should the king of curses settle for less when he had the world? 

As you lay on the cold altar, the ropes cutting into your skin, your thoughts were consumed by the stories. What kind of man—no, what kind of creature—was Sukuna? You wonder about this paradox of a man, this creature like god.

Did he truly mourn, or was that just another tale spun by terrified villagers to make him seem more human? What was he, actually? You had a million questions, and you know they will never truly be answered.

A gust of wind stirred the trees around you, the leaves rustling like whispered secrets. You heard the shuffle of feet, felt the eyes of the villagers upon you, their fear palpable. Then, you heard his voice. You could feel it all, that powerful cursed energy, coming from one direction. For a moment, you had no words. Only uncertainty.

"Why do they send another?" Sukuna's voice was like a low growl, rumbling through the air with the force of a storm. "Do you think I am so easily appeased, you fools?"

You dared to lift your head, the ropes pulling at your skin as you met his crimson gaze. He was tall, imposing, and every bit as terrifying as the stories had painted him. But there was something else there—something in his eyes that spoke of deep, simmering pain.

"Do you truly want to know why they sent me?" you found yourself saying, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your throat.

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might strike you down then and there. But he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Speak, then, girl." he said. "Tell me why I should not turn you to dust where you lie."

You swallowed, gathering your courage. "They send me because they fear you, because they believe you will protect them if they give you what you want. But… no one knows what you truly want, do they? No one speaks of her. Of Hiromi."

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his face, and you knew you had struck a nerve. The air grew colder, a chill that seemed to seep into your very bones.

"Hiromi is dead." he said, his voice quiet but filled with an edge that could cut through steel. "And no one speaks her name. It is what I command.”

"But you still mourn her…." you continued, unable to stop yourself. "Do you not, my lord?”

His dark gaze bore into you, the weight of it almost unbearable. For a long moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched on like an eternity. Then, slowly, he laughed—a sound that was bitter and hollow.

"You dare ask?" he repeated, as if the word was foreign to him. "What do you know of it all, little one? What do you know about such a life lived?"

You felt a tremor run through you, but you did not look away. "I know enough, my lord." you replied softly. "I know enough to see that your anger is not born of hatred, but of grief."

Sukuna's cruel smile quickly faded, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw something in his eyes—a flicker of vulnerability, quickly swallowed by the darkness. He hated how you said it, you know it too well. But there was no other choice. You were here for a purpose and you must fulfill it. You must. 

"You are bold, little one." he murmured. "Bold….for someone so close to death."

"Perhaps, my lord." you whispered back to him. "But if I am to die, I would rather die knowing who you truly are, rather than the monster they say you are."

He stared at you for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then, he stepped closer, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the power that thrummed through him like a thunder strike.

"Then you are a fool, little one." he said quietly. "For believing that I am anything more than a monster."

But there was something in his voice, something that made you wonder if perhaps… he wished you were right.

For the meantime, you were lucky to have your life, despite speaking so boldly, despite saying her name aloud—the name that everyone else dared not utter. Sukuna’s silence stretched on, his crimson eyes still locked onto yours, unreadable, cold yet burning with something darker beneath the surface. He could have ended you with a flick of his wrist, reduced you to ashes for your insolence. And yet, he did not.

He leaned closer, the edges of his form blurring into the shadows that seemed to ripple around him like stabbing waves in the ocean. His breath was hot against your skin, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. You felt your heart pound in your chest, each beat a drum that signaled your fragile hold on life.

“Perhaps you are simply foolish. Many have died for far less than what you dared to speak.” Sukuna finally said, his voice low, almost contemplative. “Huh, you speak brashly.”

The villagers around you seemed to hold their breath, waiting for his judgment. They looked at you with a mixture of horror and awe, unable to believe you were still alive after uttering the forbidden name. You, a mere sacrifice, a lamb thrown to the wolf, had survived what so many others had not.

“Why do you think I will let you live?” Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense silence, his tone curious, but with a dangerous edge. “Do you think I find you interesting? Amusing? Or perhaps I see something of her in you, something worth sparing?”

You swallowed hard, the reality of your situation settling in. You had survived speaking out of turn, but you were still bound to this altar, still at the mercy of a being who could destroy you on a whim. Yet, something in his words gave you pause, a flicker of something unspoken that lingered just beneath his surface.

“I do not presume to know your reasons, my lord.” you replied carefully, choosing each word like a step on thin ice. “But if you see something of her in me… then perhaps I am not so different from you after all.”

Sukuna’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing. “Not so different?” He laughed, a sound that was both mirthful and bitter, filled with a deep, aching emptiness. “You compare yourself to me? To Ryomen Sukuna? You are a child, a mere mortal who knows nothing of gods or demons, of love that scorches the soul and burns the world to ash.”

“And yet…..” you dared to continue, feeling the tightness in your chest. “If my lord felt nothing, you wouldn’t care enough to be angry… or to remember.”

He stiffened, and for a moment, his expression faltered. The shadows seemed to deepen around him, his aura flickering like a candle flame caught in a strong wind. You sensed that you were dancing on a razor’s edge, but you could not stop now. There was something here, something raw and real beneath the monstrous exterior.

“Enough.” Sukuna hissed, his voice a sharp command. The air grew colder, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. “You dare much, human. Too much.”

You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself for the inevitable blow, the moment when his patience would finally snap. But instead, Sukuna’s lips curled into a faint smile, one that did not reach his eyes.

“Perhaps I will spare you.” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself. “If only to see how long that fire burns before it is extinguished. Or perhaps to see if you will end up like the rest—broken, hollow, pleading for mercy where there is none.”

He turned away from you then, his back a wall of power and darkness, his form towering against the dim light of the shrine. The villagers started, stunned, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You will reside in my temple.” Sukuna commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You will remain there, under my watch. Let them see what comes of those who speak of things best left forgotten.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, a mixture of fear and shock. They did not understand why he had spared you, why you, of all people, were allowed to live. Perhaps they thought you were cursed, or perhaps they thought Sukuna had some darker plan in mind. But you knew better. You knew that, in some small way, you had touched on a wound that had never healed, a scar buried deep beneath his monstrous exterior.

And as Sukuna vanished into the shadows, you realized that your fate was no longer in the hands of the villagers, or even in the hands of the gods they prayed to. No, your fate was now bound to his—a god who mourned like a man, a monster who remembered what it was to love.

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IN A WAY, IT IS NOT SO BAD, BEING HIS CONCUBINE. You spent your days in isolation, your life confined within the walls of Sukuna's palace. You were nothing more than a servant, though they called you a concubine. The title meant little, for you were given no special privileges, no adornments, no tokens of affection. 

But it was a life. Your life. And it lived in some comfort, more than what is experienced by the rest of Hida province. You had multiple meals a day, you had rooms to yourself and even servants that address every bit of your needs.

Still, your world was small, your days filled with the quiet tending of the gardens, watching the shifting sky as the hours bled into one another. The flowers you nurtured became your only friends, their petals a fragile comfort against the cold indifference that surrounded you.

Perhaps the peace came from the fact that you did not see Sukuna often, and when you did, his gaze never lingered on you for long. He had no interest, no affection, no fondness to spare. You were simply there, like a shadow in the corner of his realm.

A figure lost amidst the vast emptiness of his domain. And perhaps that was for the best. It was better than being forced into Sukuna’s bed. You think that all women in the harem think that it was better that way.

But slowly, ever so slowly, something changed. His dark scarlet eyes began to linger, just a fraction longer than before. You felt the weight of his gaze like a chill running down your spine.

The other servants noticed it too, their whispers growing louder, bolder. You finally caught his attention. But it wasn’t because he had come to care for you, to see you as anything more than the nothing you were.

No, the truth was much crueler than that.

You were a spitting image of Ryomen Hiromi, the woman who haunted his every step, the ghost who lived in the shadows of his mind. At least that’s what the people say. But you did not want to believe them. Yet, looking at the murals at the glass gardens, the resemblance was uncanny.

It was obvious somehow. It was similar, everything. Your eyes, your hair, the curve of your smile. Every feature, every gesture seemed to remind him of her. And though you knew you could never be her, you had become a cruel echo, a reflection of something he had long lost.

And soon enough, the people talked. Of course, they did. They always talked. You tried to shut them out, but the more they whispered, the more people listened. And the more they listened, the more people spoke.  

“She reminds him of Hiromi, I am certain!” they whispered. “She is nothing but a shadow, a poor replacement for the one he truly loved. She lives in her image, as if she could ever hope to fill her place.”

You became the other woman, even when you didn’t want to be. No, not even that. You were a pale imitation, a mockery of a woman who had captured the heart of the king of curses. Every glance Ryomen Sukuna spared you was not a look of admiration or desire—it was the gaze of a man staring into the past, into a memory that was forever out of reach.

And so, you lived your life as another woman. No, the other woman. To a dead woman. To a love that had died long ago, but never truly left. 

Sometimes, in the dead of night, when the silence was so thick it pressed against your skin like a heavy shroud, you would wonder about her. About Ryomen Hiromi. Who was she, really? What had she meant to him, this fearsome god, this creature of darkness who now watched you as if searching for something he had lost in her eyes, now reflected in yours.

He never spoke of her. He does not want to. He does not dare to. Not to you, not to anyone. Some servants have been here longer than you and they have seen people killed over even a mumble of a prayer for the lady. And so you don’t ask. 

Not even when there were times he would come closer, when his dark eyes lingered on your face, searching, always searching. Yet he will never truly find it. He knew this, as much as you did. But it was as if he was trying to see her again, trying to find her in your skin, in your voice, in the way you moved through the gardens like she once had, perhaps. It was hope, a foolish hope. And yet you cannot escape this foolish hope.

The weight of her memory suffocated you. You were not allowed to be yourself, to have your own name, your own identity. You were always, always compared to her, measured against a ghost that you could never be, never touch. And Sukuna, with his cold gaze and his empty eyes, reminded you of it every day.

"You’re not her, little one." he said once, his voice low, more to himself than to you, as if testing a truth he could not fully accept. “You’ll never be her.”

His words cut deeper than any blade, leaving you with the bitter taste of something unnameable, something that tasted like defeat, or perhaps longing, or perhaps both. You had never wished to be her, to be anyone but yourself. But here, in his domain, under his shadow, you were not allowed that freedom.

You were trapped, forever bound to a life that was not your own, in the shadow of a dead woman who would never release you, and a man who could never let her go.

Days bled into nights, a blur of routine and solitude, and you began to feel like a ghost yourself, haunting the corners of Sukuna's palace, where life seemed to move around you but never through you. The servants kept their distance, wary of your resemblance, as if fearing you might be some ill omen, cursed to echo the tragedy of the past.

And Sukuna… he watched you, always watching, his eyes a deep crimson that saw too much and yet revealed nothing. He was like a storm contained within the fragile walls of the palace, his presence a force of nature that you could neither escape nor fully comprehend. His mood was mercurial; one day, he would barely acknowledge you, and the next, his gaze would linger on you, heavy with something you couldn’t name.

“Do you enjoy the garden?” he asked one afternoon, his tone deceptively casual, as if he were simply inquiring about the weather.

You glanced up, surprised that he had addressed you at all. He rarely spoke directly to you, even when his eyes seemed to follow your every movement. “I do,” you replied, careful, measured. “It is quiet there. Peaceful.”

“Quiet…peaceful.” he repeated, almost as if tasting the word. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but it did not reach his eyes. “Yes, she liked the quiet too. Always wandering among the flowers. Trees too. She’d like that then.”

You stiffened at the mention of her, the ghost you lived with every day, who lingered in every corner of this place. “I am not her, my lord.” you said, a tremor in your voice. You had repeated these words to yourself countless times, but they sounded fragile, almost insignificant when spoken aloud.

Sukuna's expression did not change. If anything, his gaze grew sharper, like a blade pressed against your skin. “No, little one.” he agreed softly, almost mockingly, “You are not her. But you will do… for now.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, refusing to let him see the fear that coiled within you, like a snake waiting to strike. “Why do you keep me here?” you dared to ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why do you watch me as if you expect me to become someone else?”

He laughed then, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You misunderstand, little one. I do not expect you to become her. I know you never can. But you… remind me of her. And that is enough… for now.”

The way he said it, the way his eyes darkened with something unreadable, made your blood run cold. You were nothing more than a stand-in, a living, breathing reminder of something he had lost. A cruel joke played by fate, a shadow dancing in the place of the one who truly mattered. To be kept alive, your village kept alive — because you look like a ghost. 

“I am not a replacement, my lord.” you insisted, your voice firmer this time, surprising even yourself with the strength behind it. “I hope my lord knows that I will not live my life as a mere echo.”

His smile faded, his expression turning serious. “You think you have a choice?” he asked, leaning in closer, his face so near to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “You are here because I allow it. You exist at my whim, not because of who you are, but because of who you resemble. Do not mistake this for anything more than it is.”

The reality of his words hit you like a blow, the finality of it sinking deep into your bones. You were nothing to him, nothing but a passing fancy, a painful reminder of a past he could not reclaim.

“I am not her, my lord.” you repeated, your voice shaking with defiance, with a spark of something that refused to be extinguished. “And I will not be her for you. You must understand.”

For a moment, something flickered in Sukuna's eyes, something almost like surprise, perhaps even respect. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the cold, unfeeling mask he always wore.

“Brave words, little one.” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “But words mean little here, in my domain. You will learn that soon enough.”

He turned away from you then, leaving you standing alone in the empty hall, your heart pounding in your chest, your hands trembling at your sides. The silence closed in around you, heavy and oppressive, and you knew that nothing had changed. You were still trapped, still living in the shadow of a dead woman, still bound to the whims of a god who mourned like a man.

And yet, deep inside, something stirred—a flicker of defiance, of hope. You might be a ghost to him, a reflection of a lost love, but you were still alive. You were still you, and as long as you drew breath, you would not allow yourself to be consumed by his shadows. Not without a fight.

Time passed slowly in Sukuna’s palace, and with it, your heart began to change. You did not notice it at first; how could you? Day after day, the monotonous routine of your existence lulled you into a sort of numbness. The gardens became your refuge, the sky your solace.

Yet even as you tried to find comfort in these simple pleasures, you found your thoughts wandering back to him—Ryomen Sukuna, the fearsome god, the monster, the man who mourned like a human.

At first, you hated him, hated him for what he represented, for what he had made you into: a replacement, a mere shadow of someone who had meant everything to him. But as you watched him, as the days turned to weeks and weeks to months, you began to see more.

You began to notice the things others did not—the subtle tension in his jaw when he was angry, the way his eyes softened just a fraction when he spoke of her, the quiet moments when he thought no one was looking, and the mask slipped, just a little.

You were in the garden one afternoon, trimming the roses, when you heard footsteps approaching. Sukuna rarely came to the garden, but today he seemed restless, pacing along the paths with a dark expression on his face. He stopped by the old cherry blossom tree, his eyes distant, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Without thinking, you moved closer. "Is something troubling you, my lord?" you asked quietly, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. You had learned not to provoke him, to keep your words soft and your gaze steady.

Sukuna looked at you sharply, as if surprised you had dared to speak. "Why do you care?" he snapped, his tone harsh, but you had seen the flicker of something else—a fleeting vulnerability, perhaps? “Such matters are none for you to care about, little one.”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I see you every day, my lord.” you replied softly. “I see how you… struggle over something. And I cannot help but… care.”

He scoffed, but it was a hollow sound. “Care?” he echoed, almost mockingly. “You think you understand me, mortal? You think you can comprehend the depths of what I am, of what I have lost?”

You bowed your head, feeling the sting of his words but refusing to back down. “I don’t pretend to understand, my lord.” you murmured. “But I see the pain in your eyes, the way you linger in places she once loved, the way you… look at me.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he turned away, his shoulders tense, his hands unclenching. “You are a fool, little one.” he muttered, almost too softly for you to hear. “A fool to think you can feel anything for me.”

And maybe you were a fool. A fool to care for a man who did not care for you, who saw you only as a shadow of someone else. But you could not help it. You could not stop the way your heart ached when you saw him, the way your breath caught when he looked at you with those sad, tired eyes.

Day by day, you found yourself drawn to him, not by his power or his beauty, but by the quiet moments when he thought no one was watching. The moments when his face softened, and you saw the man beneath the monster, the man who had loved so deeply and lost so terribly.

You saw the cracks in his armor, the places where he had been wounded, and you wanted, desperately, to reach out and touch them, to soothe the pain you knew he carried.

You found yourself thinking of him when you were alone, wondering what had made him this way, what had broken him so completely. You imagined him before all of this, before the darkness, before the loss, and you felt a strange, deep sorrow for the man he might have been.

One evening, as you were leaving the garden, you saw him standing by the cherry blossom tree again, his face turned upward, staring at the pale blooms against the darkening sky. He looked so lonely, so unbearably alone, that you felt your heart tighten in your chest.

Without thinking, you approached him, moving slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a wounded animal. “My lord, look.” you said softly, and he did not turn away. “The blossoms… they’re beautiful this year.”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Hiromi loved them.” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you could not quite name. “Fond of them.”

You nodded, your heart aching for him. “I imagine she did, my lord.” you replied. “They’re… peaceful.”

He was silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on the flowers. Then he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. “She was… my peace.” he admitted, his tone so raw, so vulnerable, that it made your chest tighten painfully. “And now… there is only emptiness.”

You wanted to reach out to him, to touch his hand, to tell him that he was not as alone as he thought, but you knew he would not accept it. So you stood there, beside him, sharing the silence, hoping that maybe, in some small way, your presence could ease the ache in his heart.

And slowly, painfully, you realized that you were falling into the saddest position in the world. You were beginning to care for him, truly care for him, despite knowing that he did not, and could not, care for you. You were beginning to understand him, to see the depths of his sorrow, to feel the weight of his loss as if it were your own.

You were living as a shadow, and yet… you found yourself wishing, hoping, that someday he might see you as something more. Even if you were just a reflection of a memory, even if you could never be her, you wished, desperately, that you could become someone to him.

But as you looked at him, at the emptiness in his eyes, you knew that day might never come. And still, you could not help but care.

Days continued to slip by in a blur of silent moments and stolen glances, and though you tried to keep your heart guarded, you felt it slipping further and further away from you, like water through your fingers. You had resigned yourself to your fate—a concubine in name, a ghost in truth. You had accepted that Sukuna would never see you as anything more than a mere echo of what he had lost.

But as time passed, you noticed a subtle change in him. It was in the way his gaze lingered on you a moment longer, or how his tone softened when he spoke to you. It was in the quiet moments when you would catch him watching you, his expression inscrutable, as if he were trying to decipher some mystery he could not quite solve.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in shades of crimson and gold, you found yourself in the garden again. Sukuna was there, seated on a low stone bench beneath the cherry blossom tree, his face turned upward as if searching for something in the dying light.

You approached cautiously, unsure if he wanted your presence or not. He did not turn to look at you, but he did not send you away, either. You took it as a small mercy, a silent invitation to sit beside him.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you like a fragile thread, delicate and unbroken. Finally, Sukuna spoke, his voice low and contemplative. “You are always here, little one.” he murmured. “Always watching. Why?”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because I see you, my lord.” you replied quietly. “I see the way you carry your pain, the way you hide it behind your eyes. I… I understand it, in a way.”

He turned to you then, his gaze piercing, searching your face as if trying to find the truth hidden within your words. “And what do you think you understand?” he asked, a note of challenge in his tone.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his stare. “I think you loved her more than life itself, my lord.” you said softly. “And I think losing her broke something inside of you that will never heal.”

He was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he laughed—a harsh, bitter sound that cut through the stillness like a knife. “You presume to know my heart, mortal.” he said, but there was no true malice in his voice, only a deep, hollow emptiness. “You think because you look like her, you can speak of love and loss?”

“I do not pretend to be her, my lord.” you answered, your voice steady, even as your heart pounded in your chest. “But I know what it is to lose, to live with emptiness. I know what it means to be alone, even in a crowded room.”

His eyes softened, just for a moment, and you could almost see the man beneath the monster, the one who had loved and lost, who had once been capable of kindness, of tenderness.

“You think you know loneliness?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost vulnerable. “You think you know what it is to love someone so deeply that their absence is like a knife in your soul, cutting you with every breath?”

“I think I’m starting to understand, my lord.” you whispered. “More than I ever wanted to.”

He looked away, his jaw clenched tight, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You are a fool.” he muttered, but there was no heat in his words, only a weary resignation. “You should hate me. You should despise me for what I am, for what I have made you.”

You shook your head slowly. “I can’t, my lord.” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I don’t know why, but I can’t. Maybe it’s because I see the pain in your eyes, the way you look at me… the way you remember her. I can’t hate you for that. I just… I wish things were different.”

He turned to you sharply, and for a moment, there was something raw and desperate in his gaze, something that spoke of a longing he had buried deep within himself. “Different?” he repeated, almost scoffing. “There is no ‘different’ for us. This is the world we have been given, and we must live in it.”

You felt your heart clench painfully, knowing he was right, knowing that no matter how much you wished for it, you could never truly reach him, could never become more than what you were—a shadow, a reflection of a woman long gone.

But you could not stop yourself from caring, from hoping that somehow, someway, he might see you, truly see you, not as a ghost or a replacement, but as a person in your own right.

You sighed, turning your gaze to the blossoms above. “I know, my lord.” you murmured. “I know that better than anyone. But I still… I still want to understand you. I still care, even if you don’t care for me.”

He was silent, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you feared you had said too much, crossed a line you could never return from. But then, slowly, he reached out and took your hand in his, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle.

“You are a strange one, little one.” he said quietly, almost as if to himself. “To care for a monster… to care for a man who has nothing left to give.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you did not bother to hide it. “Maybe I’m just a fool, my lord” you whispered. “But I can’t help it. I can’t help but care for you, even when I know you can’t care for me.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as if looking for some answer he could not find. Then, without a word, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gesture so tender it took your breath away.

“Do not mistake this for affection.” he warned, his voice low and rough. “I am still who I am. I am still the monster you should fear.”

But you could only nod, your heart aching with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I know,” you whispered. “I know, but I’m still here.”

And for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of softness in his eyes, a flicker of something that could almost be… understanding. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to reach him, one fragile step at a time.

══════════════════

TIME FLEW BY AND WITH THAT, YOU AGED TOO. Slowly, like the steady drip of water carving its path through stone, Ryomen Sukuna began to accept your presence as something constant in his life. At first, it was subtle—the way he no longer sent you away when you appeared by his side, the way he allowed you to linger in his chambers or the garden without a word of complaint.

Over time, it grew into something more. He began to call for you, not often, but enough that you noticed. Sometimes, it was just to sit in silence while he read or stared into the fire, and other times, he would speak to you, his voice low and distant, as if he were speaking to himself rather than you.

He did not love you; you knew that much with painful certainty. His heart belonged to another, to a woman whose name he whispered in his dreams, whose memory seemed to haunt his every step. You were not her, and you never would be. You were a shadow of what he had lost, a pale reflection of a love that had burned too bright and consumed itself in the flames.

But he tolerated you, and in this dark, twisted place where fear ruled and love was a forgotten dream, that was enough. You had learned to find solace in the little things—the way his gaze would occasionally soften when he looked at you, the rare moments when his voice held a note of something other than indifference. 

You knew you would never escape Hiromi’s shadow. Her ghost lingered in every corner of this place, in every whispered word and hushed breath, in the way his eyes darkened whenever he spoke of her.

You were not foolish enough to think you could ever replace her in his heart, nor did you wish to. You had come to terms with your fate, with the cruel twist of destiny that had brought you here, to this palace where the walls seemed to whisper her name.

For the finite years of your mortal life, you would be what you were to him—an echo, a shadow, a living memory of something lost. You could have fought against it, could have railed against the injustice of it all, but you chose not to. You chose to make peace with what fate had given you, to find what small joys you could in the fleeting moments he allowed you to be near him.

There were times when the weight of your existence threatened to crush you, when you longed to scream, to demand that he see you for who you were, not for the woman you resembled. But those moments were few and far between, and you had learned to push them down, to bury them deep within your heart where they could not hurt you.

Instead, you found contentment in the little things—in the way his presence filled the room, in the rare, unguarded moments when he would speak to you of things he had buried deep within himself. You listened to his stories, the ones he told in quiet tones when he thought no one was listening, and you treasured them like precious gems, tiny fragments of the man he had once been.

You learned to be grateful for what you had, even if it was not what you had dreamed of. You accepted that you would always live in the shadow of Hiromi, that you would always be the "other woman"; the one who was not loved, but merely tolerated. And for as long as you had breath in your lungs and life in your veins, you chose to find peace in that.

You sat beside him by the fire, you felt a strange sense of calm settle over you. He was quiet, his eyes fixed on the flames, his expression thoughtful. He did not look at you, but you could feel his presence, warm and solid beside you, a reminder that you were not entirely alone in this world.

You turned your gaze to the fire, letting the heat warm your face, and you whispered, almost to yourself, “I do not ask for more than this. I am… content with what I have.”

He glanced at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to understand your words. “Content?” he repeated, a hint of incredulity in his voice. “You are content being nothing but a shadow?”

You smiled softly, a hint of sadness in your eyes. “Contentment is a choice, my lord.” you replied. “I chose to be content with what fate has given me. It is not happiness, but it is enough.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and then he nodded slowly. “Perhaps you are wiser than I thought now, little one.” he murmured. “To find peace in a place like this… it is no easy feat.”

You nodded, knowing he spoke more to himself than to you. You had accepted that you would never be more than a shadow in his life, but even shadows had their place, their purpose. You would be content with that, for as long as your mortal years allowed.

The days passed with a creeping heaviness that settled into your bones, a fatigue that no amount of rest could cure. You began to feel the strain in every step, the way your breath came shorter, the way your limbs feel heavy and uncooperative. At first, you dismissed it as exhaustion, a lingering effect of sleepless nights and endless thoughts that twisted in your mind like shadows.

But then came the coughing fits, each one more violent than the last, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth and a sharp pain in your chest. You ignored it at first, waving away the concerned glances of the servants who attended you. You kept your back straight and your face serene, refusing to acknowledge the way your body seemed to betray you.

Yet it grew harder to hide. The pain became more frequent, stabbing through your lungs like a knife with every breath, every step. The first time you coughed up blood, it was a shock—a bright, vivid red staining your hand. Your heart raced as you stared at the crimson stain, panic rising like bile in your throat.

You quickly wiped it away, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully, you were alone in your chamber, and you pressed a trembling hand to your chest, willing yourself to calm down. There was no reason to be afraid, you told yourself. It was just a momentary lapse, nothing more.

But it wasn’t. It happened again, and again. You found yourself waking in the night, gasping for air, your throat raw and burning. The servants began to notice the dark circles under your eyes, the way you would clutch your side when you thought no one was looking, the way you moved a little slower, a little more carefully.

There was a day that you sat in the garden, trying to find solace in the soft petals of the cherry blossoms, a violent fit seized you. You doubled over, coughing hard, and felt something wet and warm splatter against your lips. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and saw the unmistakable smear of blood.

A sharp gasp came from behind you. One of the younger servants had seen, her eyes wide with fear and concern. She rushed to your side, her hands trembling as she reached out to steady you.

“My lady, oh my!” she whispered, her voice filled with worry. “You’re… you’re bleeding.”

You shook your head, forcing a smile that felt like a grimace. “It is nothing.” you said, your voice hoarse. “Do not worry yourself over me.”

The servant looked unconvinced, her brow furrowed with concern. “I must tell Lord Sukuna.” she said quickly, glancing toward the entrance of the garden as if she expected him to appear at any moment. “He must know—”

“No, no…..” you cut her off sharply, your voice firmer than you had intended. “There is no point in that.”

She hesitated, confusion clouding her eyes. “But, my lady… you are unwell. He should—”

“He would not care, little girl.” you said softly, looking down at your blood-stained hand. “There is no use in troubling him with this. It would make no difference. Sukuna does not love me, nor does he care for me in that way. Do you think he would be moved by something as trivial as this?”

The servant bit her lip, clearly torn between her duty to you and her fear of Sukuna’s wrath. “But… if he knew, he might—”

“Might what?” you interrupted, your voice edged with a quiet resignation. “Send a healer? Take pity on me? No, he would not. I am nothing more than a reminder to him, a shadow of a past he cannot let go. He tolerates me, yes, but that is all.”

The servant looked at you, her eyes filling with tears, but she nodded slowly, understanding the weight of your words. She knew as well as you did that Sukuna’s heart was a barren, desolate place, filled with ghosts and haunted memories. There was no room for you there.

“Promise me, little girl.” you whispered, reaching out to touch her arm gently. “Promise me you won’t tell him.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her expression tight with worry. “I promise, my lady.” she murmured, though you could hear the doubt in her voice.

You leaned back against the tree, closing your eyes and letting the cool breeze brush against your skin. You knew there was no point in hoping for more than what you had. Sukuna had given you a place by his side, but it was not out of affection. He had lost the woman he truly loved, and you were only a semblance of her—a shadow he tolerated, nothing more.

You were dying, that much was clear. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, a way to free yourself from this liminal existence, to escape the torment of being a living reminder of what he had lost. You could find peace in that, you thought. At least, you could try.

You would not burden him with your illness, with your slow, inevitable decline. You would carry it quietly, with dignity, for whatever time you had left. After all, what was one more life in the grand, cruel scheme of his world? You were just another fleeting moment in the endless march of time—another sacrifice, another offering to a man who had already lost everything he had ever cared for.

══════════════════

YOU DECIDED TO LET FATE RUN ITS COURSE. You let time pass by, letting the illness be hidden in the shadows of low whispers and painful tears in your long suffering days and nights. And sure enough, Ryomen Sukuna had returned from his long and exhausting trip within the next few days.

He had been famished from his trip and sent word that he would be having supper with you that night, which you had obliged without another word. You dressed in your finest, watching the servants prepare the table in your chambers and calmly thanked them one after another as they left.

The evening had settled into its usual quiet rhythm, with the two of you sharing dinner in the dimly lit chamber. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the walls, and the scent of roasted meat and simmered vegetables filled the air.

It was a routine you had come to accept with a resigned sort of familiarity, a ritual that offered a small measure of normalcy in your otherwise constrained existence.

You sat across from Sukuna, picking at your meal with an absent-mindedness that spoke more to your weariness than any lack of appetite. His presence was imposing, yet tonight, he was unusually subdued, his attention focused on the food in front of him rather than on you. And somehow, you were a bit more grateful for it.

As you took a sip from your cup, you looked up at him, your expression earnest. "My lord, do you not think you should be more understanding of your subjects?" you began, your voice gentle but firm. "I must implore you once more to be more lenient with the people. The fear you instill is one thing, but mercy could win you their loyalty and respect."

Sukuna's eyes, dark and inscrutable, met yours. He did not respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as if weighing your words. This was not the first time you had made this plea, and it was not likely to be the last. You had grown accustomed to his silence, to the way he would listen but rarely act upon your suggestions.

"It is not for me to coddle them, little one." he said finally, his voice low and dismissive. "Fear is a more effective tool than mercy. It ensures obedience."

You sighed softly, knowing well that your words often fell on deaf ears. Still, you persisted, driven by a conviction that even the smallest act of kindness could make a difference. "I understand your perspective, my lord,  but sometimes even the harshest rulers find strength in showing compassion. It can—"

Before you could finish your thought, a sudden, sharp pain gripped your chest. You gasped, doubling over slightly, and a violent coughing fit overtook you. You struggled to steady yourself, but the force of it was too strong. Blood splattered onto the table, the vibrant red stark against the white of your kimono and the pale wood of the dining surface.

Your heart raced as you quickly wiped the blood away with your sleeve, hoping to hide the evidence of your distress. You tried to maintain your composure, but your hands were trembling as you looked up at Sukuna, who had gone still, his eyes fixed on the crimson stain.

For a moment, there was a silence so thick it felt like a physical presence. Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze was heavy and unyielding, his red eyes locked onto the blood that had marred the table and your attire. You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, his silence, a heavy burden that pressed down upon you.

"It's nothing, my lord." you said hurriedly, forcing a weak smile as you tried to brush off the incident. "Just a momentary lapse. Please, continue with your meal."

Sukuna’s expression was unreadable, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. He did not speak, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—perhaps surprise, or concern, or something deeper that he quickly masked.

You could feel the tension between you, an invisible thread connecting your quiet plea to his unspoken thoughts. It was clear that your condition had not gone unnoticed, even if he chose not to acknowledge it openly. You had always been a presence in his life, but tonight, the reality of your fragility seemed to cut through the usual indifference.

He took a deep breath, his gaze finally shifting away from you as he turned his attention back to his meal. The silence that followed was filled with the soft clinking of utensils and the low murmur of conversation from the servants who hovered at the edges of the room, their eyes darting to you with barely concealed concern.

You ate in silence, each bite of food tasting like ash in your mouth. The pain in your chest had subsided, but a deep weariness remained, a lingering reminder of your deteriorating health. You glanced at Sukuna from time to time, but he was absorbed in his meal, his expression unreadable.

The conversation you had tried to initiate was now buried beneath the weight of your illness, and you knew better than to press further. The battle for his leniency would have to wait for another day, another time when you were not so overshadowed by your own suffering.

As the meal drew to a close, you felt the oppressive silence settle around you once more. Sukuna’s gaze was distant, his thoughts seemingly occupied with matters beyond the confines of the dining room. You could only hope that, in some small way, your presence had made a difference, even if it was not the kind you had hoped for.

When the servants cleared away the dishes and the room began to empty, you excused yourself, retreating to your chamber with a heavy heart. You knew that your time here was growing shorter, that the end was approaching with each passing day. But for now, you would carry on, finding what small measure of peace you could in the fleeting moments you had left.

And as you lay down in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, you could not help but think of the blood you had tried to hide, of the way Sukuna’s eyes had lingered on it. You could only hope that someday, he might see you not as a mere shadow or a reminder of what he had lost, but as a person who had tried, in her own way, to make a difference in his world.

The next morning, you awoke to a disorienting cacophony of shouts and harsh reprimands. The once-familiar silence of your quarters was shattered by the sounds of chaos from the courtyard. Your heart sank as you stumbled out of bed, a sharp pain reminding you of the night before.

As you made your way through the hallways, the noise grew louder, mingling with the harsh, angry tones of Ryomen Sukuna’s voice. Your mind raced, dreading what you might find. You knew it already. You have seen it in the other households of the other concubines. And you can only know what had caused such a commotion. When you reached the courtyard, the scene before you was both startling and terrifying.

Your servants were gathered in the center of the courtyard, their faces pale with fear and their postures crumpled under the weight of Sukuna’s wrath. He stood at the center of the commotion, his expression thunderous as he raged at them. His anger was palpable, his words a relentless storm of fury directed at those who had failed to inform him of your condition.

Your breath caught in your throat, and without thinking, you stepped forward, your heart pounding in your chest. The courtyard fell into a stunned silence as Sukuna’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and irritation.

"My lord, please." you began, your voice trembling as you bowed deeply, your forehead nearly touching the ground. "This is my fault, not theirs. I beg for your forgiveness and mercy for my servants."

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed as he took in your contrite posture, his anger momentarily faltering. He regarded you with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity, his dark, unforgiving, gaze sharp as he assessed your sincerity.

"It was my decision to hide my illness, my lord." you continued, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I did not want to trouble you or cause unnecessary concern. Please, spare them your anger. They were only following my wishes."

Ryomen Sukuna remained silent for a moment, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. The servants, though still shaken, dared to lift their eyes to you, their expressions a blend of relief and apprehension.

Finally, Sukuna's gaze softened, a hint of resignation creeping into his expression. He took a deep breath, his anger dissipating as he looked at you with a new intensity. "You would take the blame for them?" he asked, his voice low and edged with incredulity.

You nodded, maintaining your bowed position. "Yes, my lord. It was my choice, my responsibility. I could not bear the thought of them being punished for my actions."

Sukuna’s expression hardened slightly, but the fury in his eyes had dimmed. After a moment of consideration, he gave a curt nod. "Very well. You will accept any punishment I shall put upon you.”

You swallowed the bile down your throat. “Yes, my lord.”

“Then I will call for healers. You will see them immediately." He says, as though it was the final verdict. “You will see them, all of them. Do you understand?”

“Yes…yes, my lord.” You whispered back to him.

He turned away from the servants, his gaze now fixed on you with an inscrutable intensity. "Go." he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "See to your health, you foolish girl. Your servants too can go. They will tend to you, no matter what you ask.”

You straightened slowly, a mixture of relief and trepidation washing over you. You dared to look up at Sukuna, meeting his eyes briefly before turning to address the servants.

"Thank you, my lord." you said quietly, your voice filled with gratitude. "You have done nothing wrong. Please, return to your duties."

With a final, respectful bow, you turned and headed back toward your quarters with the help of your servants. As you entered your quarters, you felt like you had lived a thousand lifetimes in that one moment. Your servants were bowing at your feet, asking for your forgiveness. But you had all but shooed them away, telling them it was your duty as their master.

You wanted to be alone right now. At least when you still had the chance. When the healers arrive, you would have a life to yourself any longer. You would be stuck in their mercy, with their potions and their whims.

You must prepare yourself for the arrival of the healers. You groaned lowly as you clutch your chest, a wave of pain hitting one after the other. It will be over soon, that’s what you hoped. That’s what you want. You want to be free from this pain. You wanted nothing more than to be free.

══════════════════

THE PAIN WAS RELENTLESS. The days dragged on in a relentless cycle of pain and futile hope. Despite the best efforts of countless healers, none seemed able to bring you any real relief.

If anything, your condition worsened, each new treatment only seeming to accelerate your quick decline. Ryomen Sukuna’s frustration was palpable; his anger had become a regular presence, casting a long shadow over the already bleak atmosphere of the estate.

You had heard the whispers of the fate that befell each healer who failed to improve your condition. It was a grim reminder of Sukuna’s volatility, a dangerous mix of desperation and rage. The once-bustling quarters were now filled with an air of fearful tension as new healers arrived, only to face Sukuna’s wrath when their efforts proved ineffectual.

On one of the rare days when you felt well enough to leave your bed, you chose to sit by the garden. The fresh air and the sight of the vibrant blooms were a welcome distraction from the constant ache in your body. You had managed to position yourself on a stool under the gentle shade of a cherry tree, finding some small comfort in watching the birds flit about, their cheerful chirping a stark contrast to the turmoil that had become your life.

Sukuna appeared in the garden, his presence as imposing as ever. He walked with a deliberate pace, his gaze scanning the surroundings with an air of detached observation. As he neared, you looked up and greeted him with a smile, though the effort felt heavy, as if each movement was a strain against the burden of your illness.

“My lord.” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “The skies are beautiful today, aren’t they?”

Sukuna stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your serene expression. The silence stretched between you, an unspoken tension that lingered like the heat of a summer day. He said nothing in response, his gaze fixed on you with an inscrutable intensity.

After a moment, he broke the silence. “How is it that you can accept death with such… calm?” His voice was low, edged with curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You blinked, taken aback by his question. A laugh escaped you, soft and brittle, more out of surprise than genuine amusement. “Accept death, my lord?” you repeated. “I haven’t accepted death, in truth. But there is no way to avoid it.”

Sukuna’s eyes remained on you, his expression unreadable as he listened. You continued, your voice tinged with a philosophical resignation. “Death will come for all of us, eventually. It’s a natural end to this life. We all must face it in our own time. In that way, we are all freed from the burdens of this world.”

He studied you with a mixture of skepticism and something akin to contemplation. “You speak as if it is an inevitability you embrace, little one.”

“Not embrace, my lord.” you corrected gently, sighing. “But acknowledge. It’s a part of life, as much as the beginning is. We can fight it or we can accept it, but it will come regardless.”

Sukuna’s gaze softened slightly, though his expression remained stoic. He seemed to be weighing your words, his usual fierceness replaced by an unusual quiet. “And you are not afraid, then?”

“Fear?” You tilted your head, considering the question. “I suppose I am afraid of the pain that might come before the end. But fear of death itself? Not so much. It’s merely another step in the journey, my lord. That is what I believe, at least.”

For a moment, there was a stillness between you, punctuated only by the distant chirping of birds. Sukuna’s eyes flickered to the sky, perhaps contemplating the vastness of existence you had spoken of. The anger that had once seemed so consuming in his presence now appeared subdued, replaced by a contemplative silence.

“I see.” he said finally, his tone carrying a trace of grudging respect. “Your words are… unusual.”

You smiled faintly, a tired but genuine expression. “Perhaps. But sometimes, facing the truth can be a way to find peace, my lord.”

Sukuna stood there for a while longer, his presence a dark silhouette against the backdrop of the garden’s tranquility. Finally, he gave a curt nod and turned to leave, his demeanor less harsh than before. The sound of his footsteps gradually faded as he walked away, leaving you alone once more with your thoughts and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze.

As you sat there, watching the birds and the shifting clouds, you felt a small measure of contentment. Sukuna’s visit had brought a moment of introspection, a reminder of the fragile balance between life and death. Even in your suffering, you found a semblance of peace, understanding that acceptance was not about surrendering to fate but about finding a way to live with it, even as the end loomed ever closer.

And just like that, the day you had dreaded finally arrived. And truly, you were left feeling an unbearable weakness that signaled the end was near. The once-familiar confines of your quarters now seemed like a distant world, and the pain of your illness was a constant, gnawing presence. Each breath was a struggle, each moment of consciousness a battle against the encroaching darkness.

To your surprise, your lord Sukuna appeared by your side as you lay on your bed, his imposing figure contrasting sharply with the fragility of your own condition. He had not been a part of your daily existence in the past weeks, his visits sporadic and his presence usually marked by anger and frustration. But now, he was here, seated beside you in a rare display of stillness.

You looked at him through the haze of pain and weakness, your voice a mere whisper. “My lord, it seems this is my time to part from you.”

Sukuna’s eyes were steady, his gaze betraying an emotion you could not fully decipher. “I know, little one.” he replied simply, his voice holding a note of finality.

A pained laugh escaped your lips, the sound mingling with a shuddering breath. “I only wish… I could avoid being reborn into such misery again. To be the other woman, to be nothing to you.”

Sukuna’s silence stretched between you, a weighty pause that seemed to deepen the divide between you. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “You were something.”

You shook your head, the effort to move even slightly causing a fresh wave of agony. “You lie easily, as you breathe, my lord.” you said with a faint, sorrowful smile.

The silence that followed was heavy and palpable, filled with the unspoken complexities of your relationship. As you lay there, the end drawing closer with each passing moment, you found a strange clarity in the finality of your situation.

“I love you, my lord.” you said softly, the words carrying a weight that transcended the physical pain. “As sad as it is, I do. But I have no intention of having it returned. I hope that, in the next life, I never meet you again.”

Sukuna’s expression remained impassive, but there was a softness in his gaze that belied his usual stoic demeanor. As you took your final, labored breaths, his sigh was a mix of resignation and something deeper, something that spoke to the complexity of your intertwined fates.

“I hope so too, little one.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a rare touch of vulnerability.

With those words hanging in the air, you felt a sense of release, the weight of your suffering beginning to lift. As your consciousness faded and the pain finally ebbed away, you left behind the world that had been both your prison and your refuge. Ryomen Sukuna looked at your lifeless body, pursing his lips into a flat line.

“Live on in a better life, little one.” He whispered, his fingers brushing against your hair. “May you be loved by someone who loves you. May we never meet again, my other woman."