Sukuna Ryomen - Tumblr Posts

Not the time to think about it

( ♡ ) pairing : Basketball player! Ryomen Sukunax fem!reader

( ♡ ) warning : f!reader, NOT PROOF READ , kinda cringe, smoking, 4 years age gap, kinda sad , idk bro

( ♡ ) a/n ✏️ : HELP I LOVE BASKETBALL AU SUKUNA 💔

The Beginning of the End

Sukuna Ryomen had always been the center of attention. At 22, he was already a rising star in professional basketball. His towering frame, undeniable skill, and bad-boy charm made him irresistible to fans and especially women. With his broad shoulders, chiseled jawline, and eyes that always seemed to carry a hint of danger, Sukuna had left behind a trail of broken hearts. To him, relationships were fleeting; love, a momentary distraction. He had never met anyone who could hold his interest for more than a night, let alone a lifetime.

Enter [name].

You were 18, and unlike anyone Sukuna had ever encountered. You were a quiet, studious girl, majoring in pharmaceutical health at the university. Your figure caught the eye of many, but it was your gentle nature that made you stand out. With [color] eyes that always seemed to radiate kindness, you were the opposite of the women who usually crowded Sukuna’s life.

You met by chance at a university charity event where Sukuna had been invited as a guest. You were there volunteering, organizing medical booths and speaking about health awareness. Sukuna, uninterested in the event itself, was walking aimlessly when his eyes landed on you. You stood out in the sea of faces, your simple beauty, combined with an aura of genuine warmth, drawing him in.

He approached you with his usual swagger, expecting to win you over with little effort.

“Do you follow basketball?” he asked, flashing his signature smirk.

You looked up at him, blinking in confusion. “Not really. I’m more into medicine.”

Your response took him by surprise. You didn’t fawn over him like most girls did, and that piqued his interest.

“I’m Sukuna,” he said, as if that name alone would be enough.

You smiled politely “I’m [name] . Nice to meet you.”

A Dangerous Game

From that moment, Sukuna found himself drawn to you. You were kind and unaffected by his fame, which only intrigued him further. He began pursuing you, using every trick in the book—late-night texts, surprise visits to your campus, even bringing you small gifts. At first, you kept your distance, wary of his reputation as a “player.”

But Sukuna was persistent. His charm, coupled with his unexpected vulnerability when he was with you, slowly wore down your walls. You began to see glimpses of a man behind the star athlete—a man who was lonely, who craved more than just the superficial adoration that surrounded him.

As weeks turned into months, you fell for him. You saw beyond his cocky exterior, discovering a man capable of deep passion, but also burdened with emotional scars. Sukuna, in turn, found himself caring for you more than he had ever cared for anyone. You brought a sense of calm to his chaotic life, and he often found himself wondering if maybe, just maybe, you were different.

However, no matter how much he tried to change, the nature of his world—of fleeting encounters and transient affections—kept pulling him back. Sukuna was like a moth drawn to the flame of his old habits, unable to break free entirely.

The Collapse

For you, being with Sukuna was like living in a dream. He was everything you had never expected to fall for—dangerous, exciting, unpredictable. Yet, there was a darkness beneath the surface. You knew he had a history, that he had hurt women before, but you believed that you could be the one to change him.

But old habits die hard.

Sukuna’s world remained one of temptation. After a game one night, Sukuna found himself surrounded by fans, women who threw themselves at him, reminding him of how easy things used to be before you. He didn’t mean to betray you, but one night after an away game, fueled by alcohol and the excitement of a win, Sukuna ended up spending the night with someone else.

It was a mistake, and the guilt hit him hard. He wanted to tell you, but the thought of hurting her tore him apart.

You , however, weren’t naive. You could sense something had changed. Sukuna was distant, more withdrawn, and you knew, deep down, what had happened without needing to hear the words. One night, after days of silence between them, she confronted him.

“Did you… cheat on me?” You asked, your voice trembling but your eyes steady.

Sukuna looked at you, torn between wanting to protect you and the overwhelming guilt. He didn’t say anything, but his silence was answer enough.

And at that exact moment your heart shattered. You had given him everything, hoping against hope that he could be different, that he could change. But now, all those hopes felt like they were crumbling beneath your feet.

The Last Night of Love

That night, you sat together in silence, neither knowing what to say. Sukuna, for the first time in his life, realized he had something to lose. And it terrified him. He reached for you, but you pulled away, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“I can’t do this, Sukuna,” you whispered. “I thought we had something real, but I can’t be with someone who doesn’t respect me.”

Sukuna had no words. For all his bravado and charm, he had never been good with emotions, never learned how to handle love. He had played with fire for so long that he never expected to get burned.

As the night wore on, you both knew it was your last night together. It was a bitter, heartbreaking farewell, filled with regret, longing, and the aching realization that love, no matter how intense, sometimes wasn’t enough to fix everything.

Aftermath

You walked away from Sukuna that night, your heart heavy with sorrow. You knew you had to let go, even though you still loved him. You focused on your studies, diving deeper into your passion for pharmaceutical health, using your pain as fuel to succeed.

Sukuna, on the other hand, was left to reflect on his choices. For the first time, he regretted not just his actions, but the man he had become. The weight of losing you haunted him, your absence leaving a void he couldn’t fill with fame or fleeting affection.

They both moved on, but that night—their last night of love—would always linger in your memories, a reminder of what could have been, and what was lost.

Can you do sukuna seeing reader being happy with someone else🙏

( ♡ ) pairing : true form!Sukuna x s/o!reader

( ♡ ) warning : idk what the gender of the reader is 😭 gn probably , NOT PROOF READ , kinda cringe, idk bro

( ♡ ) a/n : hi there sweetheart, I hope this is good and is what you wanted. If not feel free to ask me again 🫶🏽

Echoes of Desire

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a silvery glow over the courtyard. Lanterns flickered gently, illuminating the laughter and joy of the gathering that spilled out from the main hall. Sukuna leaned against a wooden pillar, his two faces hidden in shadow, watching as you mingled with the guests, your presence a radiant beacon amidst the revelry.

You were dressed in a beautifully ornate kimono, colors vibrant against the soft light, your laughter ringing like chimes in the cool evening air. Beside you stood a man, his charm evident as he engaged you in conversation, his smile making your eyes sparkle in a way that tugged at something deep within Sukuna.

He clenched his jaw, a surge of irritation bubbling beneath his stoic facade. The sight of you being so freely happy with someone else stirred a possessive flame within him, a feeling he had long thought buried under layers of indifference.

As the festivities continued, Sukuna’s frustration grew. He had watched you from afar, the way you leaned in to share a secret with the man, the way your hand brushed against his arm—each gesture igniting a primal urge within him. The thought that you could be happy without him gnawed at his insides.

“ Why do you waste your time with him ? “ Sukuna murmured to himself, a shadowy figure lurking in the corners of the celebration.

Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, he stepped into the light, his presence drawing the attention of the nearby guests. You turned at the sound of his approach, surprise flickering across your features.

“ Sukuna,” you said, your voice a mix of joy and concern. “What are you doing here?”

“Observing,” he replied coolly, though the tension in his voice betrayed the tempest within. “ It seems you’ve found new entertainment. ” Your smile faltered slightly. “ It’s just a celebration. Everyone is having fun. ”

“ Fun? ” he echoed, a sharp edge to his tone. “ Is that what you call it? Spending time with a man who doesn’t know your worth ? “ You stepped closer, sensing the darkness that clung to him. “ He’s a friend, Sukuna. You know that.”

“ Friends do not make you glow with delight as you do with him, ” he snapped, unable to keep the jealousy from his voice. “ What does he offer you that I do not? “

The question hung heavily in the air, your heart racing at the challenge behind it. “ He doesn’t offer me anything more than companionship, Sukuna. But you—”

“Exactly!” Sukuna interjected, his voice a low growl. “ I am the King of Curses, not some common man to be tossed aside. Yet here I am, watching you be happy with someone else. “

You took a deep breath, grounding yourself against the storm brewing in his eyes. “ You need to understand that happiness isn’t just about being with someone powerful or dangerous. It’s about feeling safe, cherished. You can’t just assume I’ll choose you because of who you are. “

He stared at you, his two faces reflecting a mix of emotions—frustration, longing, and a flicker of vulnerability. “So you prefer him?”

“I don’t prefer anyone,” you said softly, stepping closer. “But you push me away with your darkness, Sukuna. You’ve built walls around yourself, and it’s hard to reach you.”

His expression softened at your words, the weight of truth settling in. He was silent for some moments before he spoke in a quiet tone “ I don’t want to lose you,” he confessed, the fierceness in his gaze faltering.

You placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. “Then don’t. Show me that you can be more than the King of Curses. Show me that you can let me in.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, a flash of determination igniting within them. “I will not let anyone take you from me,” he declared, his voice low and filled with intent. “If he makes you happy, then I will make you happier.”

You smiled, warmth flooding through you. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Just be yourself. Let me see the man beneath the curse.”

The night felt alive as you stood before him, the air thick with unspoken promises. Sukuna leaned in, his breath ghosting over your skin, and in that moment, everything around you faded away. The laughter and chatter of the festival became distant, replaced by the intensity of his gaze.

“You are the light I didn’t know I needed,” he murmured, inching closer. “Let me show you how a king can love.”

As his lips brushed against yours, a spark ignited—a connection that transcended the darkness surrounding him. You could feel his walls crumbling, the fierce determination to change enveloping you both.

When the kiss broke, Sukuna looked into your eyes, the weight of the world seeming to lift. “I won’t let you go, not to anyone else,” he vowed.

And with that promise, you stepped away from the shadows of uncertainty, embracing the light of your bond, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead together.

In the Heian night, amidst the celebration and laughter, two souls found their way back to each other, forging a connection that would defy the darkness, a love that could conquer all.

Hiiii i love your basketball au w/ sukuna sm!

Would you be ok with writting about reader and sukuna with him regretting letting you walk away after the last fight? With them actually getting together?

Ty for your time friend! 💖🌸

Not the time to think about it pt.II

( ♡ ) pairing : Basketball player!Sukuna Ryomen x fem!reader

( ♡ ) warning : f!reader, NOT PROOF READ , kinda cringe, kinda sad, age gap , idk bro , angst to fluff (??)

( ♡ ) a/n : hi my love 💞 Thank you for your request 🤗 I love the idea of them actually getting together but of course I’ll make it a bit of angst 😋

Aftermath

You threw yourself into your studies, trying to drown in your textbooks, hoping that if you just worked hard enough, if you buried yourself deep enough in the endless pages of research and lectures, you could forget him.

But it never worked.

No matter how many nights you stayed up until dawn, staring blankly at words that blurred together on the the pages of your books, Sukuna was always there — lingering in the back of your mind like a ghost.

The pain clung to you like a shadow. It wasn’t the sharp, immediate sting you felt when you had first confronted him, when his silence had confirmed your worst fear. No, this pain was quieter, more insidious. It seeped into every part of you, weighing down your chest until it was hard to breathe, until even the simplest things — like hearing his name on TV or passing by the court where he practiced — felt like a knife slowly twisting in your heart.

Every time you saw him, even from afar, it was like tearing open a wound that refused to heal. You would catch glimpses of him on campus, surrounded by his usual crowd, his laughter echoing through the air. And every time, you had to fight the urge to cry. Because to the world, he was still the same Sukuna —charming, carefree, untouchable. But to you? To you, he was the man who had made you believe in something more, only to shatter it.

It felt cruel, how life continued as if nothing had changed, as if your world hadn’t crumbled the night you walked away. You tried to hate him, tried to convince yourself that he wasn’t worth this heartache. But no matter how much you tried to forget him, to erase the memory of his touch, his smile, his whispered promises, you couldn’t.

Nights were the hardest. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, the silence pressing down on you — it was in those quiet moments that the loneliness hit the hardest. You found yourself remembering the way his arms had felt around you, how you had felt safe, warm, loved, even if only for a fleeting moment. And now, all of that was gone, like smoke slipping through your fingers.

You would dream about him sometimes. In your dreams, things were different. He hadn’t hurt you, hadn’t broken your heart. In your dreams, he still loved you, and everything was as it should have been. But then you would wake up, and the cold reality would settle over you like a weight you couldn’t shake. The man you had loved — the man you still loved —wasn’t coming back.

It was a cruel irony, really. The more you tried to move on, the more you felt trapped in the memory of what you had lost. You wanted to be angry, to scream, to let it all out. But instead, you simply existed, numb to everything except the quiet ache in your chest that reminded you, day after day, that he was gone, and you were left alone to pick up the pieces of your broken heart.

And the worst part ? The worst part was knowing that you had loved him so deeply, with everything you had, only to realize it hadn’t been enough. That no matter how hard you tried to be what he needed, in the end, you couldn’t save him from himself.

For Sukuna, life continued as it always had. He went through the motions — attending practices, playing games, flashing that same arrogant smile for the cameras, surrounded by the fans and women who once made him feel untouchable. But now, none of it mattered. It all felt hollow, meaningless without you. The noise of the crowds became a distant hum, the adrenaline of winning a game nothing but a fleeting distraction from the aching void that had taken root in his chest.

At first, he had tried to shake it off, convincing himself that he didn’t need you — that he could keep living the way he always had, unattached and carefree. But it didn’t take long for the weight of his guilt and regret to settle in, pressing down on him like an unrelenting force. Everywhere he turned, he saw you. In the empty spot on the couch where you used to sit during his late-night practices, in the way the sunlight streamed into his apartment in the mornings, reminding him of the quiet moments you’d shared, tangled up in each other.

Every day, he replayed that night in his mind, the night you had looked at him with such raw vulnerability and asked the question that tore everything apart. "Did you cheat on me?" The silence that had followed felt like a lifetime, and now, every time he thought back to it, he wished more than anything that he had said something — anything. That he had fought for you, begged for your forgiveness, told you he was sorry.

But he hadn’t. He had just stood there, frozen, letting the best thing that had ever happened to him slip through his fingers.

In the days that followed, Sukuna tried to fill the void with the same distractions he always had. He surrounded himself with people, went out to parties, flirted with women who threw themselves at him. But nothing felt the same. The momentary highs only left him feeling more empty, more alone. He found himself searching for you in every crowd, his eyes scanning for that familiar warmth, that quiet presence that had once brought him a sense of peace he didn’t even know he was missing.

The nights were the worst. When the world quieted down, and there was no game, no crowd to drown out the silence, Sukuna would lie awake, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts would spiral, the regret clawing at him with every passing minute. He would think about all the moments he had taken for granted — the way you’d laugh softly when he teased you, the way you’d always ask him about his day, genuinely caring about the answers. He remembered how your fingers had felt in his hair, how you’d look at him with such tenderness, a tenderness he had never deserved.

He missed you more than he thought possible. It was an ache that wouldn’t go away, a constant reminder that he had ruined the one thing that had ever felt real in his life. And the worst part? He knew it was his fault. He had pushed you away, hurt you in ways he could never take back. He had let his pride, his reckless need for control, blind him to what really mattered. And now, you were gone, living your life without him.

Sukuna had always prided himself on being strong, untouchable. But without you, he felt weak, fragile in a way he had never known. He tried to tell himself that he could move on, that this was just another fleeting chapter in his life. But no matter how much he tried, the truth was undeniable.

He had loved you.

He had loved you deeply, more than he had ever been able to admit, even to himself. And now, it was too late.

In the quiet of his apartment, when the world had long since fallen asleep, Sukuna would sit in the dark, his hands trembling as he thought of you. He wondered if you were happier without him, if you had moved on. The thought tore at him, a bitter mix of jealousy and sorrow. He wondered if you ever thought of him, if you missed him the way he missed you. But he knew, deep down, that you deserved better —someone who could give you the love and respect he had failed to provide.

And that realization was the most painful of all. Because Sukuna Ryomen, the man who had always been in control, who had always lived life on his terms, had lost the one person who had ever truly mattered. And now, no matter how much he regretted it, there was nothing he could do to change that.

The guilt, the regret — it consumed him. It followed him every second of every day, a constant reminder of what he had lost. And no matter how many games he won, how many women threw themselves at him, it was never enough to fill the void you had left behind.

He had always loved you — deep down, in ways he could never put into words. But Sukuna had been too blind to see it, too arrogant to admit it, and far too terrified to confront the feelings that stirred in the depths of his heart. Love had always been something distant, fleeting, a game he thought he could play and leave behind. Until you came along.

But now… now it was too late. Or was it?

The ache of your absence gnawed at him constantly, a slow, suffocating weight that only grew heavier with time. Days turned into weeks, then months, and still, you haunted his every thought. The memory of your smile — soft and real in a way nothing else in his world was — burned behind his eyes when he tried to sleep. The warmth of your voice, the way you’d say his name with that tenderness he didn’t deserve, echoed in the quiet corners of his mind, filling every silence with your absence.

For the first time in his life, Sukuna felt utterly lost. It wasn’t the fame or the women or the adrenaline of the game that he craved anymore. It was you. Just you.

He remembered the night you left—the look on your face, the pain in your eyes, how you had tried so hard to hold back the tears as you walked away from him. And he had let you. He had stood there, watching you leave, unable to say the one thing that might have kept you with him.

“I love you.”

Those words had been trapped inside him, buried beneath his pride, beneath the layers of fear and self-doubt. And by the time he realized the truth, you were already gone.

Now, every moment without you was an unbearable reminder of what he had lost. He’d see you in the smallest of things — the scent of your perfume lingering in the jacket you once borrowed, a song on the radio that had played during one of your late-night drives. And each time, the regret hit him like a punch to the gut, leaving him breathless, wishing he could turn back time, undo the hurt he caused.

But the most painful realization of all? He knew you had loved him too. You had given him your heart on a silver plate, placed your trust in him, and he had shattered it. He had taken you for granted, thinking you’d always be there, always waiting. But you weren’t. You couldn’t.

Sukuna thought about calling you every day. His finger would hover over your name in his phone, his heart pounding in his chest as he wrestled with the fear that maybe it was too late — that maybe you had moved on, that you were happier without him. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, didn’t deserve another chance. But he also couldn’t live with the idea of never trying.

The Last Chance

One night, after yet another game that left him feeling emptier than ever, Sukuna found himself standing outside your apartment building. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his breath clouding in the cold night air as he stared up at the window where he knew your light used to shine. Everything in him screamed to turn around, to leave before he made things worse. But he couldn’t. Not this time.

He knocked on your door, his heart hammering so loud he could hear it in his ears. When you opened it, he was struck by how much he had missed you — how seeing your face, even for a moment, sent a shock of warmth through the ice that had settled over his heart.

You stood there, staring at him in disbelief, your expression guarded, but there was a flicker of something in your eyes. Hurt, yes. But also the smallest glimmer of hope.

“I know I don’t deserve to be here,” Sukuna said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, raw. “I know I hurt you, and I can’t take that back. But there’s something I need to tell you, and if you still never want to see me again after this, I’ll walk away for good.”

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t close the door either. So he continued, the words he should have spoken months ago tumbling out all at once.

“I was a coward,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I thought I could run from what I felt, that I could keep pretending I didn’t need anyone. But I was wrong. I need you. I love you. I’ve always loved you, but I was too scared to admit it, even to myself. And now, I’m standing here, asking — no, begging— for one more chance. Because losing you… it’s the only thing that’s ever made me realize what love really is.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and for a moment, Sukuna thought he had broken you all over again. His chest tightened with fear, and he was ready to turn away, to walk out of your life for good. But then, you spoke, your voice trembling but soft.

“Why now, Sukuna ? Why did it take losing me for you to see ?”

He swallowed hard, his throat burning as he fought to keep his composure. “Because I didn’t know what I had until it was gone. I was selfish, and I’m sorry. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking you for another chance. Let me prove that I can be the man you deserve.”

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. And then, slowly, you stepped aside, letting the door open just a little wider. Your eyes met his, filled with pain but also a spark of something that hadn’t completely faded.

“Don’t make me regret this,” you whispered.

And in that moment, Sukuna knew he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t let you slip away again. He’d hold onto you with everything he had because now he understood — losing you had been the beginning of the end. But maybe, just maybe, this could be the beginning of something new. Something real. Something that could last.

It wasn’t too late after all.

“…Something more “

( ♡ ) pairing : True Form!Sukuna x fem!Goddess!reader

( ♡ ) warning : f!reader, NOT PROOF READ , kinda cringe, idk

( ♡ ) a/n ✏️ : I was rewatching Naruto Shippunden and Kaguya is my damn favorite Goddess 🙏🏽 and I began to think about making a Sukuna x reader who is like Kaguya so here it is 😋

Much like Kaguya Ōtsutsuki, you possess an ethereal and otherworldly beauty. Your long, flowing [color] hair cascades down your back, shining like moonlight. Your eyes, pearlescent and timeless, hold a serene yet terrifying calm. They give off an unsettling sense of omnipotence, as though you can see into the very soul of anyone who dares to meet your gaze.

You are tall and regal, often adorned in flowing, intricately designed robes that enhance your goddess-like aura. Your beauty is not just physical but seems to embody an ancient, celestial force that makes you feel unreachable, untouchable.

Like Kaguya, your abilities far exceed normal comprehension. You can manipulate dimensions at will, travel between realms, and control chakra or an equivalent form of cursed energy with terrifying precision. Your attacks are vast and destructive, capable of wiping out entire regions with a mere thought.

You command nature, reality, and time itself. To those who encounter you, you are seen as a deity — your power so immense that even the strongest beings, including Sukuna, cannot take you lightly.

You maintain an air of calm detachment, viewing the world and its inhabitants as transient and insignificant compared to your own eternal existence. You are patient, silent, and observe from a distance rather than engage unless absolutely necessary.

Emotions are a foreign concept to you, something you observe but have never truly experienced for yourself. You are calculating, logical, and always think several steps ahead, considering everything from a higher perspective.

While you appear cold and aloof, there is a quiet loneliness deep within you. Being so powerful, so eternal, has left you disconnected from the world and the people in it. There is a longing within you to understand and perhaps experience the warmth that mortals cling to.

Sukuna is drawn to you in ways he can’t quite explain. You are the only person he has encountered who seems genuinely indifferent to his power and status. In fact, your strength easily matches or even surpasses his, and he respects that — though he’d never admit it aloud.

He’s constantly trying to provoke reactions from you, fascinated by your stoic demeanor. Whether through battle or teasing, Sukuna finds it maddening yet exhilarating that you don’t bend to him like others. He’s used to people fearing or admiring him, but you do neither, which piques his interest further.

Over time, Sukuna finds himself not just interested in your power but in you as a being. The mystery of who you are and why you remain so detached makes him want to break through your barriers, to make you feel something, anything, for him.

Over time, you and Sukuna begin to understand one another on a deeper level. Both of you are beings of immense strength, isolated by your power, and feared by those around you. This isolation forms an unspoken bond between you. You each recognize that the other is different — set apart from the world.

Sukuna is fascinated by your calmness and the way you handle yourself in battle, unphased by destruction. You, on the other hand, are intrigued by Sukuna’s chaotic nature, his brashness, and his ability to feel so deeply despite being feared and revered.

The sky above was painted in the colors of dusk, deep oranges fading into inky purples. You stood at the edge of a cliff, gazing out at the vast landscape beneath you. The wind whispered through your [color] hair, and your pale eyes reflected the serene indifference you felt toward the world. Time, space, life — they were all fleeting.

But there was something — someone — who disrupted that peace.

You felt his presence long before he spoke. Sukuna’s cursed energy was unmistakable, like a shadow that blotted out the light. He approached with his usual swagger, a cocky grin plastered on his face, yet you didn’t turn to face him.

“Staring at the horizon again? You look like you’re waiting for the world to end,” Sukuna teased, standing beside you now. His crimson eyes gleamed as he studied you. Even in moments of silence, there was something about you that captivated him.

You didn’t respond, your eyes still fixed on the horizon, calm and distant.

He hated that indifference. Not because it irritated him, but because it fascinated him. Sukuna was used to reactions — fear, admiration, anger — but with you, there was nothing. You were like a statue carved from the stars, untouchable and beyond mortal understanding.

“I’ve fought countless battles, seen men and gods alike tremble before me. But you… you don’t care about any of it, do you?” His voice was lower now, more serious than usual.

“No,” you finally said, your voice soft but carrying the weight of eternity. “Why should I care for fleeting things?”

Sukuna’s grin widened. “And yet you let me come here. Again and again. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were beginning to care.”

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze for the first time that evening. “You are… different from the others.”

It wasn’t much, but coming from you, it was a revelation. Sukuna felt a flicker of something in his chest—something more than his usual lust for power or destruction. It was fleeting, like the brush of wind, but it was there.

He reached out, his fingers brushing a lock of your hair. “Then what am I to you?”

You didn’t pull away from his touch. For the first time in centuries, you found yourself curious. Not about power, or strength, or the endless void of time, but about him.

“You are… something more.”

Sukuna’s grin faltered for a moment as he took in your words. He hadn’t expected that. For the first time, the great Ryomen Sukuna was caught off guard, and he found himself wanting more of this feeling, this connection with you.

And so, under the fading light of the setting sun, two beings, both feared and revered, found in each other something rare — a connection that transcended their power and their isolation.

The Illness of Us

( ♡ ) pairing : Sukuna Ryomen x significant other!reader

( ♡ ) warning : no gender reader, NOT PROOF READ , kinda cringe, human reader, Heian era Sukuna, age gap , idk bro

( ♡ ) a/n ✏️ : BASSED OFF A ROMANIAN SONG I CRIED ON.

The rain was falling hard, but you barely noticed it anymore. It was just another storm, just another distraction from the silence that had settled between the two of you. You sat on the cold floor of the empty temple where you often found him — alone, brooding, but always watching.

Sukuna stood across from you, his gaze fixed on something you couldn’t see. He was always like this — distant, even when you were right there next to him. His silence had a weight that pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe.

And maybe that was the problem.

He had always been a curse — something twisted and dark that you couldn’t stay away from, no matter how much you tried. He had drawn you in like a moth to flame, and you had burned for him. You still did.

But now… now it felt like the fire was slowly dying.

“Și boala lor era că nu se potriveau…” (and their illness was that they weren’t right for each other)

The illness of your love was that you were never meant for each other. Sukuna was chaos incarnate, a god of destruction who thrived on pain and violence. And you — you were human, fragile in comparison. The two of you had clashed from the very beginning, your love and arguments interwoven into a cycle of hurt and passion, never finding a balance.

“We don’t fit together,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. He didn’t look at you, but his words hit you harder than anything else ever had.

Your heart clenched painfully. You had heard these words before, but this time, they felt final.

“I don’t care,” you whispered, though your voice shook. “I don’t care if we don’t fit. I still—”

“Still what?” he snapped, finally turning to face you, his eyes dark and filled with something you couldn’t name. Anger? Pain? It was always so hard to tell with him. “Still love me?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

You did. You always had.

But that wasn’t enough, and deep down, you knew that. Sukuna was like a poison that had seeped into your veins, corrupting everything good, everything safe. And yet, even now, you couldn’t let him go. No matter how many times he pushed you away, no matter how many times you fought, you always came back to him.

And he let you. He always let you.

“Și se certau și se iubeau…” (and they argued and they loved each other)

You and Sukuna had never had peace. Every moment of tenderness between you was followed by arguments, by rage. He would kiss you like he was devouring you, pulling you close as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered — only to push you away moments later, his words cutting like knives, reminding you that you were human, mortal, something beneath him.

And yet, despite it all, despite the fire and the fury, there were moments — small, fleeting moments — where it felt like you truly saw him. Not the King of Curses, but the man behind the curse. A man who could love, who could feel, even if he would never admit it.

But those moments never lasted. They couldn’t.

“You need to leave,” Sukuna said, his voice softer now, but no less firm. He stepped closer, towering over you, his eyes never leaving yours. “You need to walk away from this.”

You shook your head, tears burning behind your eyes. “I can’t. I won’t.”

His hand reached out, brushing against your cheek in a rare moment of gentleness. His touch was cold, but it was still Sukuna — still the man you had given everything for.

“You’re a fool,” he whispered, though there was no venom in his words this time. “You’re a fool to love me.”

“I know,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I do. I always will.”

His expression tightened, something unreadable passing across his face. There was a part of him, buried deep beneath centuries of cruelty, that wanted to love you the way you deserved. But he couldn’t. He never could.

“I don’t deserve you,” Sukuna murmured, his hand falling away from your face. “You’ll only get hurt if you stay.”

He had never said anything like this before. Sukuna had always been proud, never admitting weakness, never admitting that there was anything wrong with the way he was. But now, as he stood in front of you, it was as if the weight of everything — the battles, the blood, the destruction — was finally pressing down on him.

“Then why don’t you let me go?” you asked, your voice breaking.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, in a voice so low you almost didn’t hear him, he whispered, “Because I can’t.”

“Se iubeau, dar nu se potriveau.” (they loved each other but weren’t right for each other)

That was the truth of it. He loved you, in his own twisted way, but it would never be enough. He would never change. You would always clash, always fight, always fall apart only to come back together again, trapped in a cycle that neither of you could escape from.

Sukuna’s eyes softened, just for a moment, as he took a step back. “I want you to move on,” he said, his voice strained. “I want you to live without me.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him that you didn’t care, that you would rather be with him, broken as it was, than live without him. But the words died in your throat as you saw the pain in his eyes — the real, raw pain that he never let anyone see.

“I’ll only ruin you,” he continued, his gaze hardening. “You deserve more than this.”

You wanted to scream at him, to tell him that you didn’t care. But deep down, you knew he was right. You had always known. This was a love that would destroy you in the end.

But how could you leave him, when every part of you still loved him?

Sukuna turned away from you, his form dissolving into the shadows as the storm outside raged on. He didn’t say goodbye — he never did. But this time, something told you it was different.

This time, he was letting you go.

And as the rain pounded against the temple walls, you realized with a heavy heart that he had never been the one keeping you trapped.

It had always been you.

happy national bf day to ryomen sukuna and rin itoshi

-💋

·˚ ༘₊· 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 🧘🏾‍♀️

itadori, sukuna and choso headcannon // here me out…all three of them as siblings. sukuna as the eldest, choso, then itadori.

notes┆︎i usually reference this au when writing my [ itadoriolderbrother! sukuna x reader ], so if you want to know more about that world refer to here :))

⊹˚∘ SUKUNA.

Sukuna grew up spoiled. SPOILED. Being the first and only child of Kaori and Jin at the time, they gave him everything he could ever want.

I like to think that Jin and Kaori were rich as hell. I'm talking about five estates all decked out in multiple traditional-style mansions. They had maids, butlers, attendants—everything!This is where Sukuna spent most of his time and can explain why he acts like he’s better than everyone later in life.

Sukuna was homeschooled for the beginning of his life, never having to mingle with regular people. He learned everything from the comfort of his home, attendants at his beck and call. It was here he learned etiquette, manners and basic liberal skills. Afterward, he was sent to the best schools in the country—his parents only wanting the best for him.

As Sukuna grew older he got a job at his father's company and found out that his parents made him the sole successor to ALL of their assets—only adding to his trust-fund nature.

Sukuna had a very close relationship with his parents, so much so that he was devastated when his mother died shortly after giving birth to Yuji.

This led to his more brutish nature, distancing himself from his father and baby Yuji, going off on a more crude path. He became rouge, got in trouble a lot more, and started fighting. Jin tried his hardest to rectify his behavior, but those attempts didn't seem to work out. So he let him be.

Jin soon found himself growing more weary and left Yuji in the care of his parents, Co-parenting with his father. But, shortly after that, Jin passed away.

Sukuna attended his funeral, and although he wasn't as devastated, it still hit him hard. His grandfather asked Sukuna to visit him and Yuji for some time, seeing as he now had custody over the children as their legal guardian.

However, Sukuna only fulfilled this request during Yuji’s toddler years. After that, Sukuna was as absent as could be. So absent, that Yuji forgot he even had an older brother.

It wasn’t anything personal, but Sukuna was too used to the luxurious lifestyle he grew up with. Their grandfather was a lot more…modest, more simple, more basic. And that was precisely the reason why he stopped showing up.

Sukuna only appeared again when his grandfather died, leaving Yuji without proper care. He decided to take guardianship of the boy and ‘rekindle’ their relationship. Although it was a bit of a daunting task considering he was absent for 16 years of his life. Whoops.

Nevertheless, Yuji eventually came around, the two of them growing close despite their constant bickering and opposing views. Sukuna was family after all.

Sukuna and Itadori lived in a condo in one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the area. Itadori didn’t realize it at the time, but his brother was insanely rich. Sukuna never really talked about it, and Itadori never wanted to hear anything about his parents—which Sukuna thought to be a shame, because he would never have the childhood that he did.

⊹˚∘ ITADORI.

Itadori didn’t know what to do when this random man suddenly claimed to be his brother. I mean, how does one even respond to that?

Eventually, Itadori had no choice to believe him. I mean, Sukuna looked exactly like him! It was almost like they were twins, except he had tattoos covering his face, was much older, and had much less face fat too.

It also helped that Itadori could remember Sukuna—faintly, but just enough to know that he met him a couple times in his life.

When it came to living with Sukuna, there were some…difficulties. I mean, he was arrogant, pretentious, and shameless—all the personality traits that made up the people Yuji hated. But Yuji learned how to tune out Sukuna’s voice, choosing not to let his temperament rub off on him.

For the most part Sukuna left him alone. He did have a job, after all. He would fly out for days at a time, coming back home only to chill in his room, and never coming out until he had someplace to be.

At that point Itadori practically made the home his own, the emptiness and barren design choices soon becoming occupied with color and random objects. Like the sudden appearance of a sleeping bag (?), a PS5, clothes, paintings, wallpaper—by the time Sukuna came back home he couldn't even recognize his own home!

“Hey you brat, what the hell did you do to my house?” Sukuna snarled, his briefcase dropping to the floor in his stupor.

“Oh! I thought you were supposed to come next week—”

“You thought?” Sukuna shakes his head, walking towards his brother who was sprawled out watching a movie on his couch. “What? We're you gonna paint my walls too?”

Needless to say, Yuji found himself sleeping outdoors that night.

Amidst the discourse, Yuji did appreciate the little moments he had with Sukuna. Like when he taught him how to fight!

Apparently, to Sukuna, Yuji had a lot of raw strength in him. Whatever that meant. Yuki couldn’t see it yet, but Sukuna insisted to step in to teach him how to punch.

“Kid, what enemies are you fighting?” Sukuna chuckles, throwing his head back with laughter. He just couldn't believe what he was seeing, his own brother—trying to throw a punch with the most dubious of forms.

“Shut it. I don't want to hear it from you.” Itadori tells him, continuing to shadow box in the middle of the living room. “If you don't have anything good to say, then don't distract me.”

Sukuna scoffs, throwing his hands up in his defense. “Whatever. I just can’t watch my doppelganger throw punk ass punches.”

Sukuna then gets up, stopping Itadori from…whatever he was doing. He stands in front of him and throws a punch, showing Itadori a visual of the perfect form.

“Hey, that looked solid!” Itadori said with newfound enthusiasm, bouncing around the room.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, that looked like it would connect!”

Sukuna simply smirks, shaking his head. Of course it looked like it would connect. He was the best fighter he knew—and there would be no way he’d let his little brother embarrass that title.

But the most weirdest moment that happened to Itadori by far was when he gained yet another brother.

⊹˚∘ CHOSO.

One day Itadori got into a little scuffle with some guys. Nothing too drastic—just a slight little altercation.

But, by the time Itadori came home, he was beaten and bruised—clearing losing the fight.

All Itadori knew was that he got absoulety wiped clean by an emo guy with black hair and dark circles. A bit embarrassing to say the least, but Itadori was so sure that he would never see that guy again.

Until…he did.

“You’re not Yuji.” Choso says flatly, eyebrows lifting in confusion.

“Yeah, I'm not.” Sukuna responds, just as confused. “Who the hell are you?”

Currently, Choso was standing outside the door of Sukuna’s condo—how he got there is unknown. All he knew was that his brother was in there and he had to see him.

“I’m Yuji’s brother.”

Sukuna stared blankly at him, a scoff leaving his lips. “The hell you are, that kid was the last one to pop out of my mom, that's for sure.”

“Oh, so you must be his brother? Well, I guess that makes us siblings as well.”

“Huh?”

Sukuna was thoroughly confused. Who the hell was this random ass kid? And why did he claim to be related?—he must be mental.

Sukuna couldn't deal with this so he called Yuji to clarify. That is when he revealed that this was the chump who beat him up.

Apparently, they beat each other so badly that Choso’s injuries led him to believe that Yuji was his brother.

And he was thoroughly convinced. Equipped with shared memories that only Sukuna and Itadori could have known.

Being a kind soul, Itadori decided that they should allow Choso to stay with them—just until he could regain his memories. Although it seemed unlikely, he believed that there really was a chance Choso could be related to them.

Sukuna, however, wasn't too pleased at this idea, since that merely resulted in another mouth to feed. Nonetheless, Choso began living with the brothers—an arrangement that soon became permanent.

Surprisingly, Choso fit in perfectly. Almost as if Sukuna and Itadori were missing a puzzle piece. He wasn’t loud like Itadori, nor was he pompous like Sukuna. He leaned more toward the reserved side, acting as a medium between the two extremes.

He would sometimes chill around the house, playing board games with Itadori and sometimes Sukuna—if he willed it. But the majority of his time is spent taking walks, reminiscing, and listening to music.

Choso‘s friends are kind of shady to be honest, always getting into altercations and trouble. But whenever Itadori expresses his distaste for one of them, he drops them immediately.

I just think Choso is such a family man, always putting their interests first. He is a firm believer of ‘blood is thicker than water.’ Always ready to protect his brothers of any harm should become them.

Thankfully, it hasn't come to that yet—and he enjoys the new home he found for himself.

a/n: finally finished this 😩😩 i need some water. also i just think choso random appearance to be so fucking funny b/c what do you mean your related to me?

© GAZZISTT

FINGERTIPS, ryomen sukuna

ryomen sukuna x fem!!witch!!reader some satoru gojo x platonic!!fem!!witch!!reader summary: Yuji Itaduri seemed to have a hold over Ryomen Sukuna and it appeared that no one had to worry about the king of curses randomly coming out. That is until the king of curses recognises a particular someone. tw!! swearing, violence, gore(ish), depression mentions? notes: manga got spoiled for me, if you need me I'll be crying in the fetal position in my bed.

Sun barely peeked through the blinds on y/n's window in her room. She didn't move from her fetal position on the mattress, not for anything, not even when a loud knock sounded on the door.

She would recognise the childish knock-knock rhythm anywhere. --"y/n? hello?~"Came the voice of her sensei, Satoru Gojo. A sigh passed her lips as she turned her face fully onto the pillow below her head.

"Go away Gojo."She groaned out. Which, of course, didn't drive the tall man away. The click of her door opening doesn't even persuade her to lift her face to look at her mentor.

Gojo took a couple of steps towards her bed, hands in his pockets. He lets out a low whistle at the sight of her. --"You look like shit."He comments.

Now that made y/n turn her head to the side, green eyes glaring up at Gojo. --"Are you trying to have me throw something at you?"She grumbled which only made him grin in response.

"You'd never throw something at you're favourite sensei!!"He points out with a wide grin. She raised a lazy eyebrow. --"What makes you think you're my favourite?"

"You didn't throw something at me the second I walked into the room."

He got her there. For the past two hours, y/n had been throwing things at anyone who dared to disturb her. Megumi wants to make sure she's okay? a stuffed animal is getting hurled at him. Panda wants to make sure she's not just laying in her bed sulking? a book is getting chucked his way.

Everyone had, had some form of object thrown at them. Except Gojo. Sure, Gojo is her mentor and her sensei but there was a much deeper connection between them. They met and something just seemed to click. He's the person she always goes to if she has a problem. Which only caused the strongest to worry when she didn't come to him this time with her grievances.

A short sigh leaves her lips as she turns her head the other way against the pillow so she was facing away from him. --"Just go away, Gojo."She mumbled.

He hummed a no and walked over to sit at the edge of her bed- making the matress dip. --"Y'know this could be a good thing."He spoke after a moment of silence.

Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. --"How the fuck could this be a good thing?"She grumbled, arms tightening around the pillow she was cuddling.

Gojo scoffed almost like her question was a stupid one. --"y/n he protected you."He reminded her, raising an eyebrow.

"As far as we were aware, Ryomen Sukuna didn't care about anyone but himself but that changed yesterday..."

24 hours earlier...

"Yuuji you're going to make yourself sick..."y/n scrunched her nose up as she watched her pink-haired friend try to stuff numerous marshmallows into his mouth.

She, Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara were in town doing some shopping and stopped to take a break on a set of stairs. Nobora had bet Yuuji that he couldn't fit 15 marshmallows into his mouth without swallowing so naturally, Yuuji took the bait.

So far he had managed to stuff 9 into his mouth without swallowing and he was making quite the spectacle of it- already boasting to the group despite not reaching the limit yet.

y/n sighs and rests a hand against her forehead. She loved spending time with her friends with all of her heart but recently her social battery has been reduced to only having human contact for maybe an hour and a half. She guessed it was due to her recent depressive episodes.

She had greatly surpassed her social limit.

Finally, Yuuji managed to stuff the other 6 marshmallows into his mouth (somehow), sporting a wide victorious grin on his face as he instantly bit down on the fluffy white sweets.

Nobora groaned, fishing out some money from her purse to hand to both Megumi and Yuuji. --"Should have bet higher."She grumbled to herself as Yuuji basked in his victory.

Suddenly a wave of discomfort flooded y/n's whole being. Her eyebrows drew together as she sat up straighter and glanced around. It appeared she wasn't the only one to experience the discomfort- all three of the sorcerers were now on high alert as they glanced around with her.

Standing from her seat, y/n slowly turned her head to the side and locked gazes with one hell of a curse in an alley way. This was most definitely a special grade curse.

Her green eyes go wide as she watched the curse feast on what looked to be a group of teenage girls in the depths of the alleyway. She swallows uneasily and glances over to Megumi who had already pulled out his phone.

"Call Gojo."

Megumi was already on it but pulled his phone away from his ear seconds later with an irritated grumble falling from his lips. --"He's not answering."

A sigh leaves her lips, shoulders slumping. --"Fine."She mumbled. The group watched as she shut her eyes and lifted her hands up at either side of her head. --"Guess I'll do it the hard way..."

y/n isn't technically a Jujutsu sorcerer. She's a witch. The only witch actually. In fact, had she grown up around some testy characters she could have probably caused quite some trouble for Gojo.

She could rival the strongest if she ever had a change of heart.

Fortunately, that won't ever happen. Even if she did have a change of heart, she loved Gojo too much to actually cause him harm.

Not to mention she is far from her full potential in terms of magical ability. She's nearly 18- a witch back in the golden ages of Jutjutsu would have reached their full potential when they hit 12. But since y/n is the only remaining witch on earth she has no one to show her the ropes.

Sorcery is way too different to witchcraft so Gojo's no help in that sense.

But y/n doesn't mind. She would much rather take things at her own pace.

Yuuji watched as y/n started chanting something under her breath- palms turning a dark purple. The boy always felt entranced when she was using her witchcraft- not to mention he would go quiet whenever she would use it. So he was thankful for her abilities in a way.

Her eyes then snap open- her usual her green irises shone a dark purple. The group watched as every civilian in the area suddenly stopped walking for a moment before clearing the area, leaving the group alone with the curse in the alley.

She didn't usually use her magic to do that sort of thing but desperate times cause for desperate measures. The second the area was clear- her eyes dusted back to her bright green and she collapsed to her knees- completely drained.

Using powerful spells like that drains her rapidly and in some cases renders her completely useless in some fights. Yuuji springs to his feet to walk over and check she's okay.

She only lets out a grumble and lifts a hand to signal she's fine. Groaning, she stands back to her feet, legs shaky. Sighing, she glances over to the alley where the curse seemed to be finishing up it's 'meal'.

"Shall we?"She grumbled.

And that they did. Around five minutes into the fight and all three of them were exhausted. y/n more than the other three due to her previous exhaustion from spellcasting.

Yuuji had landed two black flashes onto the creature, Megumi's shikigami had attacked the visible weak parts and Nobara had been attempting to use her straw doll technique (to no avail) but nothing appeared to be working.

Megumi and Nobara went sailing past y/n and into the wall with a grunt. The creature snapped it's hungry attention to her. y/n may be one of the most powerful beings in the world right now but she's always at a disadvantage when facing curses.

Due to her witchy blood, her scent is strong and incredibly attractive towards curses. Swallowing her whole was a constant on a curses mind the second they would catch a whiff of her scent. Her blood was something that every curse craved.

Her green eyes widened and she lifted her hands to prepare to throw a purple blow at the creature. However, her limbs were failing on her. A loud gasp passes her lips as she collapses to her knees again out of exhaustion.

Yuuji, seeing what was going to happen, went back onto the attack- hoping to buy y/n sometime so she could build some strength and exorcise the curse.

But Yuuji was always sent flying backwards. y/n groaned, snapping her head up with gritted teeth as the creature stalked towards her- teeth baring as it licked its lips.

With shaky hands, she lifts them- purple aura dancing between her fingers. However, the creature quickly snatched her up in its claws- the magic instantly disappearing.

A gasp leaves her lips- teeth clenching together as she struggles against its grip. She felt utterly pathetic. Was this seriously how she was going to die? all because she was too tired to fight back?

She didn't have much more time to chastise herself before the creature suddenly let out a large yell of...pain? Her eyebrows pull together as she is suddenly tossed to the ground.

Landing on the palms of her hands, she watches as the creature falls forward- collapsing at her feet. And behind the creature stood Yuuji. Except it wasn't Yuuji.

It was Ryomen Sukuna.

She wasn't sure how she knew, she just did. The creature sprang right back to its feet- suddenly not caring about y/n and only on the pink-haired youth.

"Still standing?"A voice mocked. Now she knew it wasn't Yuuji. She flinched at the gravelly voice, scurrying back until her back hit the wall.

And she watched Sukuna completely destroy the curse. He practically tore the thing inside out. y/n flinched as some of the curse's blood splashed back onto her.

The body collapses. And in the end it's just y/n and Sukuna. Megumi and Nobara were still knocked out from previously being thrown into a wall and Yuuji had no control over his own body at this particular moment.

She pants through gritted teeth lifting her hands to cast some form of defensive curse in such case that Sukuna attacked her. But he didn't. She thought he was going to when he walked closer to her.

But he didn't.

He simply kneeled in front of her. Her heart thudded in her chest as their eyes met. It was Yuuji's body but she felt incredibly uneasy under his gaze. She swallows- still attempting to perform some form of spell on the king of curses.

However, he quickly clamps a hand over her wrist causing her to hiss- the spell instantly stopping. He never took his gaze away from hers, never looked away from her fearful eyes.

With one hand on her wrist- he lifts the other to rest against her cheek causing her to flinch back. She was close to hyperventilating but she refused to do so. Not in front of the king of curses.

"Nothing will ever touch you as long as I'm here."He spoke in a distant voice. Almost as though he forgot he was even talking to her and not just talking in his mind.

His hand caressed her cheek as a softness takes over his features and then in an instant he was gone. The pink-haired boy blinked rapidly and she suddenly knew that it was Yuuji looking at her and not Sukuna.

His eyebrows furrow when noticing where his hands where- his cheeks instantly going red as he scurried back.

"heh- sorry."He mumbled. He then took notice of the very dead curse a few feet away from them.

"What happened?"

Present time...

y/n sighed, turning her head to face Gojo again. --"It was probably just a one-time thing..."She mumbled. The white-haired sorcerer only snorted in response.

"One-time thing or not- we may have found Sukuna's weakness."He spoke, nodding towards her. Her green eyes roll to the side at his words.

"You're being a bit dramatic now."She mumbled, finally sitting up. her back meeting the headboard. Gojo grins and shrugs his shoulders.

"I try."

She hums softly in response and glances to the side. --"Do you think Sukuna would speak to you?"He asked her and she instantly shook her head.

"Even if he would. I don't want to."She told him. Her voice incredibly stern. Gojo is silent for a moment but nodded his head eventually.

He wasn't going to push her on this. Not yet at least.

A few tense seconds pass before he stands to his feet, fitting his hands into his pockets. --"Hey squirt?"He spoke as he walked towards her door again.

She hated the nickname but still glanced over at him.

"You know you can come to me if something's bothering you."He mumbled and she nodded her head with a faint smile on her face.

"I know, 'toru."She told him.

He cleared his throat and nodded, walking back towards her door- pulling it open swiftly- but before he could quickly disappear- she calls out his name.

He glances back over towards her.

"Love you."She simply said. Gojo seemed to pause for a moment before nodding his head. --"Love you too."

And then he was gone.

She relaxes the second her door shuts. She slides down onto her mattress fully, sighing deeply. She hadn't slept properly since yesterday. She kept replaying the events over and over again.

Why had he protected her? Wouldn't it make things easier on Sukuna if she was dead? that's one half of his problems gone, right? she's practically on par with Gojo in terms of power so surely having two of them alive wouldn't be beneficial to him.

So why had he protected her? Not just that though, what did he mean by 'nothing will ever touch you as long as I'm here'? Why had he touched her face with such care?

Her mind was swarming with questions and before she even knew it- her eyelids had fallen shut and she was in a deep sleep.

However, it felt as though the second her eyes were shut they were open again.

It appeared as though she was no longer in her bedroom. Her eyebrows pull together as she sits up. Big green eyes dart around the space.

All she could see was red. She squints and staggers to her feet. And that was when she noticed that she was standing in some form of liquid. Glancing down she staggers back in fear.

Is this....blood?

"Gojo if this is you it isn't funny..."She mumbles to herself as she glances around. But all she could see for miles was red. With a shaky breath she glances around again- hoping to see any signs of another human being.

"Gojo?"She calls out his name in hopes of a laugh in return. Gojo pulled pranks on her all of the time...though she wasn't sure if even he would go this far for a prank.

"Not quite."

She flinched back in surprise at the deep voice that seemed to echo in her brain. With wide eyes, she spins around- looking for the source of the voice.

But she never questioned who the voice belonged to. She would never forget his voice.

"Sukuna..."She whispered out in horror.

A low chuckle echoes around the room sending a shiver down her spine. His voice could be heard but she still couldn't see him. Though she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"my wife..."His voice echoes again and she flinches back, pupils small as she darts her eyes everywhere- searching for the form of Sukuna.

She needed to see him.

And then, as she took a fearful step back- she bumped into something or rather...someone. Her eyes go wide and an arm wraps around her waist from behind.

She is pushed back into what she assumes is his chest. Fingers press to her jaw as her head is forced to the side so she could look up at him.

Her heart stopped when their gazes met. An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach Yuuji's form stared at her- yet it was Sukuna's hungry eyes that were taking her in.

Her breath stuttered as his fingertips danced from her jaw up to the side of her head- tucking a strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear.

And then he leaned in close- her head fully tipped back as their noses brushed. He grinned maniacally.

"We're finally together again..."He whispers before crashing his lips onto hers with a lust-filled fury.

She wasn't sure if she had anticipated this or not but either way she didn't react in the way she thought she would. She didn't push him away like her brain was begging her to. No, something about this felt oddly right.

It felt oddly familiar.

His hand moved to caress her jaw fully whilst his other arm stayed wrapped around the back of her waist- her back pressed tightly against his chest. He didn't plan on letting her go anytime soon.

Heart thudding, she felt herself lift a hand to hesitantly rest on his jaw- though it wasn't a full embrace. Instead, it was just the tips of her fingers resting on his jaw.

Why am I kissing him back? And why does it feel so right? Her brain was yet again on overload with tons of questions. His wife? Together again?

And of course, Sukuna knew that the girl would be filled with questions but he couldn't bring himself to care at this moment and time. So instead he continued to kiss her.

Eventually, his hands moved to her hips so he could twist her around in his arms- their chests now pressed together. Her hands had lifted to fully press against his jaw whilst his had slid to grip her waist tightly.

He held onto her like she would disappear if he didn't. His grip was so firm on her waist that she was certain he would leave bruises on her pale skin. A noise of surprise left her when she felt his sharp nails dig into her waist.

His nails dug into her waist- tearing through the thin pyjama top and breaking the skin almost immediately. But though his nails broke her skin- he never harmed her. If anything the grip was more possessive than anything.

She was sure now that he would leave marks on her. The grip on her waist had her fingers reaching for his hair- gripping onto it tightly like a safety net.

But it felt like the kiss was over much sooner than it started. Sukuna was the first to pull back. Her eyes stayed shut as their lips detached. She was petrified to open her eyes and face the reality that she had just made out with the king of curses, the villain that the sorcerers were trying to prevent from gaining a body.

She had made out with the enemy.

Still, she knew she would have to look at him at some point.

Swallowing thickly, she snapped open her eyes. But she isn't greeted by the face of Sukuna. Instead, she is greeted by her bedroom roof.

Her eyebrows pull together and she instantly lifts herself up into a sitting position- glancing around her dark bedroom as her chest heaved. With anxiety or lust? she wasn't sure.

Had that all been a dream? Surely not. Why would her brain jump to such mad conclusions? but then how could that have happened? it's impossible.

A sharp pain in her side is what breaks her from her thoughts. She hisses and stands to her feet, walking over to her bedroom door to switch on her light.

Gritting her teeth, she lifts her shirt up. She goes pale when catching sight of the dark marks that litter her sides. There were five separate fresh puncture marks on either side of her waist- like someone had been gripping it.

She swallowed uneasily and lifted a hand to brush her fingers over her lips. Guess it wasn't a dream then...

notes: if Sukuna seemed out of character I'm so sorry- uhhh part 2?

#deep down he's just a baby

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Imagine: Drama Beats

Hello, something that I write is never meant to be structured. I prefer to see beauty in the chaos. Below you will find eight short bits of text related to four different universes including mine. It is supposed to be drama, and it was in a dead of night based on Pinterest prompts. For that person who reads it - thank you and enjoy ;)

Mikey: I ... I'm here!! Everything will be good!! You will be fine!! His hands shook as blood seeped through the fingers. He was ready to carry you to the hospital in his arms, but he was told to clamp the wound and press as hard as possible, otherwise, the ambulance would not be in time. Manjiro was frightened by your gaze, frightened by a melancholy smile and a pale face. And yet he was not ready to let you go as easily as Badji, as Emma... * * * There have been days when Sunshine did not "shine" as clearly as the celestial body after which his family was named. On such days he was sad, did not know where to put himself, and, in general, he felt unwanted in this life. It was unbearable to sit in the office. Usually, he could be found on the roof of the office, with a can of energy drink and buried in the phone. Making an attempt to talk to him, you get a chance to find out the reason for the melancholy of one of the special department's geniuses. Leo: Sometimes it seems to me that... There is a huge gulf between me and others... That I cannot reach anyone and... I remain on my little island... Miles away from everyone... A weightless touch on the palm brings a timid smile to the guy's face... * * * All attempts to make Brecker talk and learn more about him always had one and only answer. Kaz: My mind is a dark place. You don't want to be there ... For all the drama that he seemed to bring to these words, they best reflected the sad truth. Kaz had seen too many things to break and drive insane any normal person. And these made him a "Monster from the Barrel", someone who is able to take on any business, knows all the most sophisticated tortures, and will not spare the traitors. Eternally lonely and submerged darkness, he will never frighten those close to him with it... * * * Bone fracture in several places, sprain, and ligament rupture - the consequences of an unsuccessful fall during the mission. Gojo's nerves were at their limit, but he continued to follow the instructions of Shoko, who quickly fixed the injured limbs and at the same time checked you for internal injuries. Shoko: Don't let her pass out! Your head rested on the guy's lap and he caught your face in large palms, trying to look into the eyes, which seemed to be filled with lead. Satoru: I understand that you are in pain, but you have to stay awake!! Please... * * * The spell gradually sucked out your vitality, and the seal was supposed to divide the soul into several objects. Yet Sukuna could not believe what was happening, wanted to believe that the curse he cherishes could still be saved. Eclipse: Thank you... For being so faithful... And enduring my whims... His hands trembled as she turned slightly to snuggle against him, the moments between the flashes of her eyelashes grew longer. Sukuna: No... Don't close your eyes... Please... Don't close your eyes!!! * * * There were rare visitors to a small hideaway, lost among the huge shelves of the Archive. It was required to know the right path and the approximate time at which the hostess of a cozy paradise spent time there. This privilege was enjoyed by an overwhelmingly small number of people, among whom there were two Key Keepers of the Energy Department. The most frequent guest was Eldran, who needed emotional recovery after visiting some worlds. This time, she was lying on a small mound of rugs and pillows, her knees pressed to her chest, eyes wandering somewhere in the direction of a small shelf with books that Indaco had brought here. Ita: You know, sometimes I want to be numb and not feel anything...

* * * The God of Death was never distinguished by excessive emotionality, but when this happened, all his inner fears immediately became evident. This time you became the closest person to the epicenter of the storm and, instead of leaving, you tried to get him to talk and find out why he was so worked up. Hanma: Oh please don't do this! Don't act like you give a fuck! Having kicked heartily an empty can lying nearby, the guy emitted a sound that seemed more like an animal roar. He hated when emotions got out of control and did not want to believe that this time you saw him like that. You: Maybe because I'm worried about you!? Because I care about you!? He answered with laughter, after which Shuji turned to you with an almost insane smile on his lips, while his eyes concealed longing and hopelessness. Hanma: You don't have to give a fuck about that!! I don't give a fuck, you don't give a fuck, no one fucking cares!! Just get out already!! Run while you can!! * * * You sat on a park bench talking about anything that felt more like a friendly psychotherapy session. Rindo was spinning from a half-empty can of beer, that he held in his hands and felt that his soul was gradually becoming lighter. He didn't have many people with whom he could talk and at the same time put his thoughts in order. After adjusting his glasses, Haitani turned his head at you and smiled. Rindou: You could spend time with Ran right now, but you have to listen to me... He was instantly pushed in the shoulder, forcing his eyebrows to raise. Your light laugh made him smile. You: What kind of nonsense are you saying right now? You are my friend, it is important to me!

cowboy kuna!!

I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT MY DARLING HUSBAND, THE KING OF CURSES, IS DEAD!! 💔

plz step on me

dohmain eckthpanthion ☝🏽🦷

Sillykuna lol

aggressive boys who have a soft side

for you.

oh, the things he would and could do for you.

he loves you to the core, so, so much.

he loves you to the moon and back.

there's a special place in his heart, reserved just for you and no one else.

because he loves you, and as much as he doesn't want to admit, he does have a soft side for you.

♡₊˚🥀₊✧ 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝘂𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗲 ♡₊˚🥀₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 king x concubine 𖥔 lots of plot with porn 𖥔 mentions of abuse 𖥔 mentions of sexual assault 𖥔 normal form sukuna (sorry yall but next time ill do his big boy one) 𖥔 he only has eyes for you 𖥔 you're his darling 𖥔 he would kill for you 𖥔 breeding (!!!!) 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 8.8k

: ̗̀➛ notes: this took a whole WEEK to edit. im so obsessed with this story. it's my favourite thing ive written because i love period movies and dramas and really got to challenge my writing skills to give it more a fantasy-esque element. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

The diligent hands of Lord Sukuna Ryomen’s palace attendants scrubbed away the grime that clung to every inch of your weary form. There were no traces of tears in your eyes, despite the discomfort of the cleansing process.

Perhaps it was the residue of gratitude for an escape from a foster family who saw fit to barter you away for a pittance to fuel their vices.

The water surrounding you had transformed into a murky haze, carrying away the evidence of your former life's hardships.

Yet, amidst this cleansing ritual, you couldn’t shake the puzzling thought of why the guards had singled you out from the other young women within the household. Uraume, the overseer of palace affairs, had arrived alongside them, their presence looming over the proceedings with an air of mystery.

That morning, you were subjected to abuse in front of everyone at the central market, longing for someone to stand up for you. And someone did. They offered you an escape from that hellhole and into a world of luxury.

You weren’t going to complain now that you had accepted this new fate of yours.

“Ya’ got too many scars, girl,” remarked one of the elderly attendants, gently assisting you out of the steaming bath, her hands wrapping a towel around your shivering form. “Our powders will struggle to conceal ’em all. How did ya’ come by such marks?”

“From my foster family,” you murmured, gaze fixed upon your toes as if they held the weight of your past. The plush carpet beneath your feet offered a small comfort, a luxury unfamiliar to your upbringing.

Memories of their harsh discipline flooded back—the blistering gravel underfoot as punishment for daring to voice dissent. It was a brutal introduction to a world where obedience was paramount.

“A wretched lot,” the attendant muttered sympathetically.

Enveloped in a silk robe, she led you into a chamber shared by a cohort of women, a realm far removed from the confines of your previous abode. Here, space was ample—the expanse excessive, with beds lining the walls and a high ceiling adorned with a single chandelier.

As you entered, a symphony of pretty faces and inquisitive gazes greeted you. Women of all colours and shapes reclined luxuriously in plain robes, their hair intricately braided or cascading freely down their backs. Conversations paused, curiosity piqued by your arrival, as all eyes turned to welcome you into their midst.

Beneath the weight of their scrutinising stares, you found yourself shrinking. These women, draped in silk and adorned with jewels, were the king's favoured concubines, a fact repeatedly emphasised during your journey to the palace and even in the fragrant confines of the bathhouse.

Every instinct urged you to rebel, to refuse to be just another ornament in the king’s harem, but you understood the value placed on purity by the monarch.

Unfortunately, your innocence had been cruelly stolen from you by your foster father, leaving you tarnished in body and spirit. Lord Sukuna would have no use for a damaged flower in his garden of perfection.

In truth, you couldn’t even imagine an image of his face in your mind. His Lordship remained a mystery to those beyond the palace walls.

“Here ya’ are.” The attendant guided you to your bed. “That vanity there’s yours to use.” She gestured toward the communal area by the window, where two other young women were preparing themselves. “Once your hair dries, one of my girls will assist ya’ in preparin’ for your audience with His Lordship.” Her touch was gentle as she caressed your cheek. “Rest assured, dear, ya’ safe now.”

You attempted a smile, though the effort seemed Herculean amidst your weariness.

As the attendant departed, her scolding to the rowdy girls fading into the background, you nestled into the comforting embrace of your soft bedding, ignoring the hushed criticisms trailing in your wake.

She’s feeble.

Her hair lacks refinement.

The king would never entertain a lowly pauper.

She’ll be gone by tomorrow.

Their words, like venomous serpents, slithered through the air.

Amidst their degradation, you succumbed to exhaustion.

But your slumber was interrupted by the bustling commotion of handmaidens assembling around you.

Disoriented and scarcely given a moment to collect your thoughts, you found yourself swiftly escorted to the vanity, where the clamour of girls jostling for space filled the air.

They manipulated your locks, weaving intricate patterns into your hair, fashioning a crown braid atop your head while allowing the remaining tresses to cascade freely down your back.

Meanwhile, other attendants removed your robe, their hands moving with practised efficiency as they anointed your skin with fragrant oils, infusing it with the delicate essence of lavender.

Between the flurry of activity, the whispers of your fellow concubines hung in the air like a veil of awe and trepidation. Their eyes were drawn to the scars marring your skin, as they speculated about how the king would perceive your imperfections as repulsive.

Good.

You craved precisely that outcome.

If the king recoiled at your sight, it meant he wouldn’t desire you to bear his heir. If the tales circulating in the town about his monstrous nature held any truth, then he’d likely offer you death as a reprieve—and you’d welcome it with open arms.

Before facing the king, you stole a glance at your reflection, the final moments of solitude before your fate was decided. The powder concealed the imperfections of your skin, rendering it smooth and flawless. Your cheeks and lips bore a muted hue reminiscent of crushed cherries. Delicate white blossoms adorned your hair, woven into your braids by nimble fingers.

As you stood, the other women adorned you in a robe of silky fabric, its floral pattern draping over your form, cinched at the waist to accentuate your curves. Barefoot, you followed them out, the chill of the floor beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth of anticipation and trepidation swirling within you.

“Good luck, pauper,” taunted one of the concubines, her voice dripping with disdain, echoed by a cacophony of mocking laughter.

Palms clammy with nerves, you shifted your gaze to the opulence of the palace corridors. Adorned with countless chandeliers and swathes of velvet drapery, they offered a stark contrast to the blooming back garden. Memories of tending to the earth and nurturing life back at your foster family’s home flooded your mind.

“Quickly now,” one of the maids urged, her voice tinged with urgency. “His Lordship detests tardiness.”

“I apologise.” You hastened your steps to keep pace with the group of attendants.

She halted before a grand set of double doors, guarded by imposing sentinels clad in formidable armour. With a flick of her wrist, the guards swung the doors open. She gently nudged you forward, and only as you crossed the threshold did the doors seal shut behind you.

You blinked, adjusting to the dimness within, scanning the chamber until your gaze alighted upon a pair of crimson glimmers opposite you. “My Lord?” You inclined your head and took hesitant steps toward the source of those fiery eyes.

“Come closer,” his command echoed through the chamber, sending a shiver down your spine. The low resonance of His Highness Sukuna Ryomen’s voice was unexpectedly rich and velvety. You had envisioned a voice tinged with age, but instead, it possessed a rough texture that awoken something within you.

With hesitant steps, you approached until you stood at the edge of his bed, your fingertips grazing the diaphanous curtains that enveloped him in a cocoon of privacy.

“Closer,” he urged, coaxing you to unveil the enigma lying beyond the veil.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you obeyed, parting the curtains and gracefully crawled onto the mattress. The silkiness of the sheets were a blatant contrast to the roughness of your foster house’s. A pang of guilt tugged at your conscience as you realized the irony of finding solace in this luxurious confinement of being his concubine.

“Enough.” His abrupt order halted your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the present moment.

As commanded, you obediently settled into your posture, folding your legs beneath you in the dimness. Within his shadowed realm, only the luminous crimson irises pierced through the gloom, studying you with an intensity that made your belly churn. Despite the curiosity burning within you, you restrained the impulse to voice your questions. Instead, you settled in the tranquillity that crowded the space between you.

“What is your name?” His inquiry cut through the hushed air.

“Y/N, my Lord.”

As your name slipped from your lips, he captured it delicately, repeating it like a sacred prayer. Each syllable danced on his tongue, imprinting itself upon the very essence of his being. In that moment, you observed a subtle shift—the shadows that had cloaked the chamber seemed to dissipate.

A soft, golden luminescence filtered through the parted curtains, cascading across half of Sukuna’s face.

You blinked in astonishment.

He appeared . . . young?

The age difference between you and him was not a chasm of decades, but rather a modest gap of no less than five years.

Physically, at least.

His appearance was striking, with locks of hair dyed a subdued pink hue, contrasting with a streak of darker shade beneath. His hair was styled into rugged spikes, lending an air of defiance. Intricate black markings adorned his features, tracing a path from his cheekbones down to his chin, while similar patterns wove across his strong shoulder, cascading over his defined pectoral muscles and sculpted abdomen.

As your eyes fell upon him, your heart quickened its pace, each beat a vicious drumming against your ribs. Gone was the expectation of a lord showing the signs of wisdom, with wrinkles upon his brow and a body marked by the passage of time. Instead, before you stood a vision of breathtaking beauty, defying your preconceived notions and leaving you breathless in awe.

With a graceful gesture, he swept aside the curtains, allowing them to unveil his entirety.

The same markings mirrored the other side of his face and cascaded down the length of his body, a mesmerising display of symmetry. Dark bands encircled his wrists, and his nails bore the same deep hue.

Poised against the headboard, he reclined with an air of effortless elegance, one knee raised as his elbow found a comfortable perch, while the other leg extended out. Though he was unclothed, a veil of silk sheets cloaked the lower half of his form.

“Remarkable,” you unknowingly whispered. Your hand clapped over your mouth. “I apologise, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s lips curved into a sinister grin, his flawless teeth gleaming in the golden light. While many would flee at the sight, you remained rooted in place, unable to tear your gaze away. A delicate flush spread across your cheeks, betraying the undeniable attraction simmering between your legs. He was absolutely divine, and the path of being his concubine suddenly didn’t seem so terrible.

Yet, the reality of sharing Sukuna with ten other women loomed over your thoughts like a shadow. The thought of him spreading his affections among so many others kindled a small flame of jealousy within you, mingled with confusion. Why hadn’t he impregnated at least one of them with the promise of an heir?

“Have you not been schooled in the art of lowering your gaze in the presence of nobility, Y/N?”

Your lashes fluttered as you registered your lapse in decorum, hastily averting your gaze. “Forgive me, my Lord, if my oversight has caused offence.” Surely, he wouldn’t punish you for a momentary lapse of admiration.

Would he?

A gentle touch beneath your chin guided your face upward. His fingers spread across your cheek, the warmth nearly forcing you to curve into his touch. Despite the temptation, your eyes remained obediently downward.

“Look at me.”

Your gaze lingered on him, tracing the delicate patterns etched over his cheek, the fiery hue of his irises, the elegant contour of his nose, and the soft curvature of his lips. Never before had you felt such a rousing desire towards any man. Yet fate had chosen to ensnare your heart with the one most forbidden to you.

“You bear a sadness that weighs heavily in your eyes,” he noted softly, his hand descending to the curve of your neck, his thumb caressing the frantic rhythm of your pulse. A low, melodic sound produced from his throat. “Tell me, my love, does the face before you stir fear within your heart?”

“It does not, my Lord. The fear of your appearance holds no dominion over me,” you declared with quiet resolve. “You’re quite . . . beautiful.”

Sukuna’s gaze sparked with a mixture of surprise and intrigue at your response.

Suppressing a nervous gulp, you silently reprimanded yourself for speaking so boldly to one of noble rank. Back in the confines of your former life, such defiance would have earned you swift punishment, yet here, in the presence of royalty, it could lead to your demise.

As you prepared to avert your gaze, ready to accept whatever consequences may come, Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense air before you could retreat.

“Don’t.”

In that moment, you found yourself questioning your instincts.

Why did you not cower in fear? Why did your body not tremble in the presence of a man who had slaughtered the lives of his enemies without hesitation? And most perplexing of all, how could you maintain unwavering eye contact with a figure of such formidable power?

“Remove your robe.” His grip remained firm around your throat, his thumb delicately tracing your pulse. “And do not stray your gaze elsewhere.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Your fingers loosened the fabric’s bindings, allowing it to cascade down your frame. The robe slipped from your shoulders, revealing the soft curvature of your form beneath. As it pooled around your lap, your breasts stood exposed to his scrutiny.

A shiver danced across your skin as his eyes traced the contours of your body, a faint smirk teasing his lips.

He brushed back strands of your hair, his touch trailing down your vertebrate. His eyes narrowed into thin slits, brows knitted together in contemplation, fingers repeatedly tracing the ridges of your scars.

“Turn around.”

The dreaded discovery that sent ripples of revulsion through the concubines had finally come to pass. Your scars lay exposed before the gaze of a powerful lord. Not only would he slit your throat, but also those of the maids who had tended to your needs, and perhaps even Uruame, who had brokered your purchase from the bastards responsible for your imperfections.

“Never before have I been compelled to repeat myself for a concubine.” His voice carried a lethal edge as he increased his grip around your throat. “Turn the fuck around.”

Your compliance came in slow, measured movements as you turned away, presenting your back to him in a gesture of submission. His hands gathered the strands of your hair, lifting them aside to reveal the raw truth etched into your skin. His fingers traced the jagged remnants of whip lashes, the seared imprints of cigars, and the cruel reminders of knife wounds inflicted by a foster father turned tormentor.

Silent tears traced a path down your cheeks, as you sat in a state of numbness, your gaze fixed upon the closed door of Sukuna’s chamber.

A tender sensation, soft and moist, grazed your back, prompting a reflexive twitch in your left shoulder.

Turning slightly, you beheld Sukuna pressing his lips against the scar that marred your shoulder blades.

“My Lord—”

“I did not ask you to speak,” he murmured over your skin, sending a tremor through your frame. “Rise onto your knees.”

Obeying his command, you ascended onto your knees, feeling the weight of his hands settle upon your waist. His lips trailed a path of reverence, bestowing kisses upon each mark that scarred your skin, from your marrow to your nape.

Your breath caught in a delicate dance of exhales, a whispered symphony escaping your parted lips. The wet caress of his tongue sent ripples of sensation coursing through your being.

His arm circled your waist, drawing you into the sanctuary of his embrace. A fleeting kiss graced the nape of your neck, followed by the suction of his lips upon the tender side of your neck. His soft hands possessively held the curve of your breasts, cradling their weight.

Your head reclined against his strong shoulder.

With his gaze fixed upon you, his lips glistened with a hint of moisture, while his crimson eyes locked onto your own human-like ones. You dared not divert your gaze as he previously ordered. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, sending lightning strikes through your frame.

Unlike the non-consensual encounter of the past, there was no hint of agony; only a tantalising blend of pleasure that left you breathless, without a protest or helpless whimper. Instead, a sigh of pure rapture escaped your lips, encompassing your body in an embrace.

Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as if he had stumbled upon a long-sought treasure.

His fingertips skated down your torso, gliding toward your centre. You captured your bottom lip between your teeth. Holding his gaze became a daunting challenge as he skillfully teased your sensitive nub, causing your breath to quicken and your chest to rise and fall with each exhilarating sensation.

Sukuna slid his middle finger into you. “You’re incredibly tight, Sad Eyes,” he murmured, the endearment he had bestowed upon you almost provoking a smile. His lips grazed your ear as he continued. “Perhaps I should stretch you out”—he pushed in his ring finger, forcing a sharp gasp to tear from your throat and an involuntary arch of your body against his chest—“so that your cunt is able to welcome my cock.”

You stifled the knot rising in your throat as Sukuna plunged his fingers into you. Such profound bliss seemed inconceivable with mere digits alone.

“My Lord.” Your breath caught as he increased his tempo. “My—” Each thrust intensified the knot in your stomach, threatening to unravel you entirely. You teetered on the brink, dangerously close to staining his fingers with your release. A sharp gasp choked out of you as he struck a wondrous chord deep within. “Please, my Lord. I beg of you—I will soil your hand if you persist—” But your plea dissolved into a cry of ecstasy before you could utter another word.

Sukuna’s laughter danced teasingly in the hollow of your ear, leaving you utterly spellbound.

You were overheated, overstimulated, overridden by the explosive undoing of his fingers. Breathless and consumed by lust, your world spun as he seized your jaw and crushed his lips to yours.

In that electrifying moment, his tongue invaded your mouth, initially startling you, yet you surrendered to the rhythm.

Sukuna leaned back slightly after planting a tender peck on your lips. Exhaling softly, he threaded his fingers through your hair, his touch sending shivers down your spine. As his lips met yours once more, gentler this time, your hand ventured to trace the contours of his adorned chest.

“You are quite the vixen.” A playful glint danced in his eyes. “How valiant of you to seduce a lord into bestowing kisses upon his concubine.” A broad smile graced his lips, leaving you uncertain whether his words were playful jest or genuine admiration.

“Do you not bestow your kisses upon all your concubines, my Lord?”

“I do not pleasure their cunts, either.”

His speech carried the brashness of a tempest, a departure from the expected decorum one associated with royalty. Sukuna Ryomen defied conventions. It was a trait uncommon among lords, yet one that intrigued you deeply. His demeanour, both in battle and in the intimate confines of the bedchamber, lacked the softening. But you found yourself drawn to his unfiltered honesty, appreciating the absence of cryptic speech.

As you sat before him, considering your next words carefully, a surge of courage emboldened you to reveal your truth.

“My Lord,” you began, your voice quivering with uncertainty, “I . . . I am not pure.”

“Given the sounds you were drawing out,” he quipped with a chuckle, “I wouldn’t have surmised otherwise.” He assisted you in rising from where you rested against his chest, positioning you before him. Observing your solemn expression, he arched an eyebrow in curiosity. “Was your satisfaction not fulfilled?”

“Indeed, my Lord, it surpassed any expectation,” you confessed, worrying your lip as he sighed impatiently. “But I must disclose . . . I am not chaste.”

Sukuna’s response was subdued, save for the faint twitch in his jaw. He averted his gaze from yours momentarily, reaching for the decanter on his bedside table and pouring himself a measure of spirits.

“Speak,” he instructed, his tone clipped.

“It occurred before I reached maturity,” you murmured softly, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself. “My foster father—” Your words faltered as Sukuna raised a hand, a silent acknowledgment of his comprehension of your unspoken anguish.

“I need not hear more.” He swiftly consumed the crimson liquid in a single gulp. “You are dismissed for the night.”

“But my Lord’s desires remain unmet—”

“Leave,” he commanded, his tone final and unwavering.

With a gulp, you hastily gathered your robe around your form, delicately extricating yourself from his expansive bed.

Just as you thought to retreat, a firm hand seized your wrist, drawing you back into Sukuna’s embrace. His lips melded with yours in an intoxicating kiss, causing both your gazes to flutter open when he pulled away. A faint smirk played upon his lips as he adjusted the robe over your shoulder.

“Next time,” he murmured, plucking a flower from the adornments in your hair and placing it upon his bedside, “you shall grace my chambers without such distracting embellishments upon yourself.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” you replied with a respectful bow of your head, awaiting his dismissal until he gestured for you to depart with a casual wave of his hand.

In the shared chambers, your fellow concubines swirled around your bed, eager to hear of your inaugural encounter with Lord Sukuna.

Each girl shared their own vivid tales, painting scenes of ecstasy under the cloak of darkness, where the king’s touch invoked sensations akin to celestial bodies colliding, or where unfamiliar pleasures erased the boundaries of their throat—whatever that latter entailed.

Though a twinge of jealousy flickered within you, it was swiftly overshadowed by a swell of pride. The concubines pleasured Sukuna in darkness, the same darkness you had willingly entered, before his touch had set ablaze a world of gold for you.

They were merely beautiful means of physical gratification for their lord, devoid of the intimacy you shared—his fingers delving deep into your core. And never had any of them spoken of kisses exchanged. Sukuna had spoken true when you questioned if others received similar treatment.

But why you?

Why, after a mere span of ten hours within the palace walls, did you find yourself, dare you entertain the notion, as his favoured? What magic did you possess that drew him to you, and how had you managed to seduce his lips, his fingers, to meet yours in such an intimate embrace?

“Did he spend himself inside you?” one of the girls whispered, prodding your knee to rouse you from your silence.

“No.”

“Aye, he never does,” remarked a golden-haired girl with a resigned sigh. “He sees to it that we consume some berries afterward, claiming they prevent conception. Strange, isn’t it? Especially if he’s so eager for an heir.”

Another girl hushed her, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone. “Did he take you from behind? That’s his favoured position, you know. He’s had us all that way.”

You stumbled over your words, unsure how to respond.

“And did you savour his taste?” came the next question. “It’s quite rich in sodium—”

“Girls!” A booming voice echoed from the doorway of the bedroom, startling you and the other concubines into immediate attention. You caught sight of the elderly attendant who oversaw your care, hands planted firmly on her hips as she observed the chaotic scene before her.

With a disapproving huff, she pivoted sharply on her heel and departed, leaving a lingering sense of reprimand in her wake.

As the frenzied chatter about Sukuna’s body attributes gradually dissolved into the quietude of sleep, morning arrived with its routine of communal showerings.

Throughout the shared bath, you silently scrubbed away the remnants of the night, indulging your fellow concubines about your previous life in town.

Upon drying off and exiting the bathing chamber, you were met with an unexpected sight: a gathering of the girls clustered around your bed.

Navigating through the throng, you reached your space to discover a resplendent scarlet silk robe embroidered with intricate black floral patterns.

Gingerly lifting the note placed atop the fabric, you read Sukuna’s precise handwriting. Curious glances from the other concubines peered over your shoulders in anticipation.

No distracting embellishments, Sad Eyes.

“What does that mean?” a curious whisper floated through the air, followed by murmurs of intrigue from the other girls. “Why does he call you ‘sad eyes’?”

You clutched the letter to your chest, suppressing a grin as you ignored the questions, the mockery, and the jostling of bodies around you. Your attention was fixated on the magnificent robe gifted to you by His Lordship.

For the remainder of the evening, you slept without any interruptions, seeking to compensate for the countless nights spent battling insomnia within the confines of your foster home.

You observed with a keen eye that none of the other girls were ushered to Sukuna’s chambers; their time seemed to veer toward strolls in the back garden or spent in the dormitory, indulging in wine-fueled scandals about the palace staff, as was their custom.

As the clock struck eight in the evening, a troupe of maids entered the chamber bearing dinner trays. A wave of anticipation swept through the room as the other girls eagerly accepted their meals and accompanying pitchers of water. Your own stomach rumbled in hunger, awaiting your own turn.

But that moment never arrived.

Instead, the maid bypassed your bed entirely, moving on to the next. A surge of apprehension rippled through you as a handmaiden approached, guiding you away from the mattress and toward the vanity.

“What about my dinner?” you asked as the attendants groomed your hair.

“His Lordship has extended an invitation for you to dine with him tonight,” came the reply.

The room fell into a sudden hush.

Dine with him?

The notion sent a flurry of thoughts racing through your mind.

Before you could process further, you found yourself pulled upright, your garments removed to be replaced by the scarlet robe.

Envy flickered in the eyes of the other concubines as they observed, their resentment palpable as they stabbed at their food with exaggerated aggression. It wasn’t your doing that Sukuna had taken an unexpected interest in you.

With no adornments save for a dab of crushed cherry paste upon your lips, you were escorted to Sukuna’s chambers.

Once more, the imposing doors swung open, and you found yourself gently ushered into the chamber. As they sealed shut behind you, the room was flooded with light. Sukuna’s figure stared out at the moonlit gardens outside, clad in a billowing white silk robe.

“My Lord,” you greeted respectfully, inclining your head in deference.

“Draw near.”

Complying with his directive, you approached and stood at his side. His presence loomed over you, his stature commanding and formidable, capable of engulfing you entirely with a single embrace. Not that such thoughts dared to linger in your mind.

“Why is your face flushed?” he asked, his gaze penetrating.

You blinked, attempting to dismiss the telltale warmth creeping up your cheeks. “It’s nothing, my Lo—”

Before you could finish, Sukuna turned your chin towards him, his palm coming to rest against your forehead. A nervous swallow traced its way down your throat at his touch, his eyes trailing down your form, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as they settled upon you in your robe.

“Thank you for your gracious gift,” you murmured, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks.

His fingers trailed through your hair, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his eyes. “I anticipate nothing less than thoroughly enjoying the privilege of removing it off of you.”

You blushed deeper at his statement.

“Come now. I’ve brought a surprise for you.” He took your hand in his with a tug, guiding you towards a doorway. With a simple flick of his fingers, the door parted, revealing a dimly lit hallway beyond.

Your gaze widened in astonishment. “How did you do that, my Lord?”

“Do what?”

“You opened the door without laying a hand on it.”

Sukuna’s striking blood-coloured eyes cut to you. “There is much about me that will be unveiled in due course, my love. What you perceive is but a guise for my true nature.” His smile, oddly childlike, sent a chill down your spine.

Was he some sort of sorcerer? You’d only heard whispers of human anomalies lurking beneath the earth’s surface or sealed within vessels, but historical accounts weren't exactly your cup of tea.

“I ventured into town today,” he said.

“Oh.” You swallowed hard, recovering from his previous statement. “I hope it was a fruitful trip.”

“Indeed, quite fruitful.”

In the soft glow of the distant hallway, Sukuna’s face came into view, casting a spell of trepidation upon your heart. His features were drawn into a mask of stoicism, his eyes devoid of warmth, and his lips pressed into a firm line, jaw rigid with tension.

Parting the curtains, Sukuna drew you near, his arm sweeping out to reveal a horrifying sight: your foster father, bound to a chair with chains, bearing the cruel marks of torture.

His face marred by countless wounds, an eye cruelly absent, and teeth scattered at his feet. His dignity stripped away, his vulnerability laid bare in his nakedness, and his manhood amputated.

The sickening lurch in your stomach threatened to betray your composure. “F-Forgive my intrusion, my Lord, but is he . . . is he dead?”

Sukuna’s response was a gilded dagger from within his robe, its handle decorated with a jewel reminiscent of your own captivating eyes. Nestled within the hilt was the very flower he had plucked from your hair. Upon the blade, your name was inscribed.

“Do as you wish, my beloved,” he whispered, his voice stained with dark fascination, offering you the instrument of your foster father’s fate with a chilling sense of detachment.

You couldn’t possibly bring yourself to commit such a heinous act.

Despite the unspeakable cruelties inflicted upon you by the bastard, the idea of taking another’s life filled you with a trembling dread.

Yet, the itch to end the torment, to rid the world of such a vile presence, simmered just beneath the surface as you stood before him, his life slipping away.

A hand trailed down the back of your head, guiding your trembling fingers to grasp the dagger tightly.

Looking up, you met Sukuna’s gaze, his expression hollow, his features obscured by shadows. This was the face of the Devil that cursed his enemies on their knees and had them willingly submit to death.

With a push from behind, you stumbled forward, drawing closer to your step-father’s prone form.

Glancing back at Sukuna, you were met with an incongruously bright smile. Quite a twisted paradox, His Lordship.

Your step-father sat unconscious, the stench of his bodily fluids assaulting your senses. His wounds oozed with a sickening mixture of blood and pus, his laboured breaths the only indication of life remaining within him. The scene was painfully familiar, a mirror image of the torment you had endured countless times before.

But now, someone had intervened, offering you a chance at liberation, a chance to end the cycle of abuse once and for all.

You glanced back again.

Until Sukuna.

Your gaze reluctantly returned to the true embodiment of cruelty before you. With a steady hand, you raised your arm, wielding the dagger with purpose.

It found its mark in your foster-father’s chest, a chilling silence punctuated only by the sound of steel meeting flesh. Ignoring the strangled cry that erupted from him, you withdrew the blade, then drove it back into his heart.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

His lifeblood painted your face and stained your pristine garments, mingling with the fabric in a macabre dance of crimson. To the untrained eye, it could easily be mistaken for a mere splash of vibrant colour upon your robe.

No one would dare suspect the truth.

No one would dare come near if they knew of your sin.

No one, except Sukuna.

Once the monster over your bed was consigned to the depths of hell, his guts spilling onto the floor around your bare feet, you allowed yourself a moment of grim satisfaction.

With a contemptuous snarl, you spat upon him, a visceral response to the years of degradation he had inflicted upon you for every misstep.

A comforting warmth touched your back.

Startled by the sudden contact, you tensed before easing at the sight of Sukuna’s faint smile.

As he reached to caress your cheek, you instinctively recoiled, lowering your gaze in deference.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” you murmured, “but I cannot permit you to spoil your hands with the blood of this man.”

Sukuna’s shoes entered your line of sight as he tilted your chin upward, his moon-white sleeve wiping away the traces of blood from your mouth and its vicinity. “You appear rather exquisite painted in blood, Sad Eyes. Perhaps I ought to designate you as my prized assassin instead of a mere concubine.”

“I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I cannot partake in killing . . . again.”

“You need not worry,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he drew near. “I will defend you from any who cast their gaze upon you, let alone lay a hand upon your delicate form. Those who dare cross that line will face my wrath, their very existence extinguished before your eyes. Not a single tear shall stain your cheeks.” His lips brushed against yours. “From this moment forward, fear shall not reside within you. By my side, you shall command fear itself, my love.”

That night, Sukuna bathed you in the sanctuary of his chambers, washing away the traces of blood from your skin as you gazed at him with a sense of wonder. It wasn’t the superficial admiration the other concubines whispered about—it was a profound affection blossoming within you, nurtured by power and protection.

He draped you in the luxurious folds of one of his silk robes, summoning servants to prepare dinner. Seated upon his lap, he fed you spoonfuls of rice and chicken, even as your stomach protested its fullness. Soft kisses peppered your neck like a sweet dessert, culminating in one upon your lips before he reluctantly released you to retire to your dormitory.

In the ensuing weeks, Sukuna would consistently send a crafted robe ahead of each meeting—in the serene seclusion of his chambers, where the flickering candlelight cast shadows upon the walls as you dined together.

Over the course of these intimate dinners, he eagerly absorbed your musings, whether they revolved around the narratives of books discovered within the palace library or your adeptness with herbs and plants, nurtured by your profound knowledge.

On occasion, as the first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, Sukuna would summon you for a stroll in the haven of the back garden. Woven between the fragrant blooms, you’d dance about with childlike enthusiasm, identifying various flowers and tracing their lineage.

Ever the attentive listener, Sukuna trailed behind you, his gaze fixed upon your animated figure. He would only speak when you fell silent, demanding you to continue sharing the familial ties between apples, plums, and the roses they stemmed from.

Within the crevice of your soul, the once withered garden of affection had flourished into a lush wilderness, blossoming with untamed wildflowers and clouds that spelled out his name.

Sukuna inhabited your every waking thought, his intoxicating mouth that worshipped your body left you giggling in delight behind your hands.

Yet, each encounter with a fellow concubine, flushed and eager with tales of their rendezvous with him, felt like thorns piercing your tender heart. Jealousy, like ivy creeping upon stone, entwined itself around your every plagued thought. Your gaze often strayed to the bedside drawer where the dagger lay dormant. The mere mention of his physique by the other women tormented your soul relentlessly.

Why hadn’t Sukuna taken you as he had with every other concubine? You had grown accustomed to his presence, even eager to reciprocate the pleasure he gifted you every evening. You had offered yourself willingly, aching for the intimacy that would bind you even closer to him. But he had not claimed you in the same manner, not entered you fully, not seeded his legacy within you.

Did he question your worthiness? Did he see you merely as a transient pleasure? Were you destined to remain just a concubine, forever denied the honour of carrying his child?

“Why do you remain silent?” Sukuna asked, turning the pages of the book you had suggested to him; he was already half-way through.

You were seated snugly between his legs upon the bed, your back rested against his chest, fingers idly toying with the strands of your hair. “I find myself devoid of words this evening.”

“Hmm.” Sukuna took a leisurely sip of his drink before placing it aside. “Surely you can conjure something. You know well enough that I cannot endure your silence.”

With an exasperated sigh, you rolled your eyes. “Well, I apologise for failing to provide you with amusement, my Lord.”

Sukuna snapped the book shut.

You instinctively pressed your lips together, silently chiding yourself for the unintended sharpness in your voice.

With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to maintaining your composure, forcing yourself to take slow, steady breaths. Deep down, you believed that he wouldn’t inflict harm upon you or cast you out of his chambers. But the nagging thought chewed at you.

This was Sukuna Ryomen, and you . . . well, you were merely a shadow in comparison.

“If you crave my touch,” he breathed softly into your ear, “all you need to do is utter the request.”

With a determined resolve, you turned to face him, settling yourself upon his lap. Sukuna regarded you with a quirked eyebrow, a quiet acknowledgment of your unconventional audacity.

“I do crave your touch, my Lord,” you confessed, your voice a hushed plea, “but not only with your hands or lips. I long to feel you in a different manner.” Your gaze drifted down to his pelvis, the unspoken appetite evident in your eyes. “I crave that.”

Sukuna exhaled heavily, his gaze piercing as he addressed you. “So, you’ve been withholding your words simply because I haven’t fed you my cock?"

Heat rose to your cheeks at his blunt proclamation, though you had grown accustomed to his coarse mannerisms over time.

“Yes, my . . . Lord.” Your voice carried a mixture of embarrassment. “I’ve endured three long months of anticipation, patiently waiting to share in the pleasures enjoyed by your other consorts. Yet, with the arrival of autumn, I find myself still untouched by the experiences they so openly boast about.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Are you asking me to bed you merely for the purpose of becoming a notch in your bragging rights?”

“Never, my Lord!” you protested vehemently, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes. “I would never demean you with such vulgar talk in public. I’ve spun tales to the others, concealing the truth of our encounters. They remain oblivious to the pleasures you’ve granted me.” Your fingers traced the intricate markings on his chiselled abdominal muscles. “If my spoiled state displeases you, if I am deemed unworthy of your touch, pray, inform me now. Regardless, my sole wish is to fulfil His Lordship’s needs.”

Sukuna disentangled your hands from his chest, a gesture that caused a fissure to form within your heart, forcing your body to instinctively withdraw from his touch.

Just as you began to pull away, he swiftly encircled his arm around your waist, tugging you back onto his lap with a firm grip. Before you could utter a single word, his lips descended upon yours, silencing any protest with a passionate kiss.

With a purposeful touch, he skillfully divested you of your robe, revealing the curves of your form beneath. His hands, warm and adept, began to massage your supple breasts, kindling soft gasps from your lips. His own trailed a wet path downward, leaving a bridge of feverish kisses along the expanse of your throat, lingering over the rapid pulse beneath your skin.

As his lips found purchase on the tender flesh of your neck, his actions became more urgent, his touch more demanding. A pinch at your pebbled nipples sent a shiver of sensation coursing through you, followed by the heat of an open-mouthed kiss.

Your gaze drifted downwards, enchanted by the sight of his tongue encircling the sensitive spots, suckling on the swollen buds like a babe. Already, heat was building within the depths of your being, igniting a flame that spread between your legs.

Sukuna laid you back, relishing the delicate flavour of your lips as his fingers skillfully sought out your throbbing clit, stimulating it with unhurried circles.

With practised ease, he slipped two fingers inside you, quickening his rhythm without preamble. Your hand instinctively traced down to his chest, undoing the fastenings of his robe.

“Take it,” he whispered against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. “Satisfy your lord, my love.”

Your fingers curled around his pulsating cock, the very object of desire that the other girls had passionately recounted. The knowledge of their previous intimacies with him only stoked the flames of envy within you, spurring you to intensify your ministrations.

With a surge of determination, you quickened the pace of your caresses, applying pressure with your thumb upon his sensitive tip while fondling his sacs.

Sukuna’s grin widened against your lips as he reciprocated with equal zeal, slipping a third finger into your slick heat until he was fully engulfed by your swollen core.

Together, you sailed upon the waves of raw carnal desire, locked in a lecherous race to reach your climax, each vying to be the first to cross the finish line—

Sukuna’s low, guttural moans resonated throughout the chamber.

You had achieved victory.

His essence spilled forth into your waiting hands, his cock convulsing with the intensity of his release. Moments later, you succumbed to your own climax, a soft cry escaping your lips.

With care, Sukuna withdrew his hand from your centre, and you instinctively examined your palm, noting the striking resemblance of his essence to your own.

You tentatively brought your fingers to your lips, savouring the taste of him.

“I did not instruct you to do that,” he growled, his gaze blazing as you tasted him. “But I suppose I’ll permit it.”

“It is salty,” you murmured, almost absentmindedly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, are you women incapable of discussing anything besides my cock?” he exclaimed, frustration evident in his tone.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension dissipating as he cleaned his fingers with his tongue before tenderly cradling the back of your head, drawing you to sit upon his lap. Your laughter softened into chuckles, a smile playing upon your lips.

“Did I please you, my Lo—”

“Sukuna,” he interrupted firmly. “Only you may address me by my given name.”

“My L—”

“I command it.” His tone left no room for argument.

You affirmed your agreement with a nod.

He was Sukuna.

Your Sukuna.

“Very well, Sukuna.” You felt a subtle shift in the air between you. His chuckle rumbled softly. “Shall I turn around for you?”

“And why do you deem such an unnecessary act necessary?”

“Because—” You suppressed the urge to divulge the whispers of the other concubines regarding his favoured position. “Never mind. How would you prefer me to present myself to you?”

“As you are,” Sukuna answered, his grip tightening around himself. “How you managed to have me spend by your hand in under five minutes is a marvel beyond my comprehension.”

Internally, you gave yourself a congratulatory pat on the back.

“Now, my love,” he said, inclining his chin towards his erection, “will you do my cock the honour of sitting on it?”

Licking the grin of your lips, you nodded, rising to your knees. With nimble fingers, you positioned his hardened length at your entrance, gradually lowering yourself onto him.

A sharp intake of breath escaped Sukuna’s lips, his hands instinctively grasping your hips. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, enduring the initial sting of penetration. Perhaps every touch of his fingers had been a meticulous groundwork for this pinnacle moment.

As you settled into your seat upon him, you granted yourself a minute to acclimate to the sheer magnitude of him stretching and filling your tight, supple walls.

Sukuna tilted his head back, impatience evident in his eyes. “Will you begin moving at a pace befitting this century, Sad Eyes?”

“Just a moment,” you retorted, your tone tinged with irritation.

“Unfortunately, the sight of your leaking cunt is testing my patience,” he remarked, his gaze lingering provocatively on your flushed form.

Collecting yourself, you affirmed your resolve with a nod before subtly adjusting your position, and swaying your hips forward. His strong hands guided you, aiding your movements as you sought a rhythm. “Gods, you’re—you’re quite large. It’s rather discomforting.”

“Ah, where has the enthusiasm to please your lord vanished, my love?” His laughter echoes through the chamber as he leaned back, amused by your scowl. “I must confess, your defiance is perhaps your most alluring trait. It has crossed my mind more than once during moments of handling myself in the bath.”

Your brow furrowed in dismay.

It was evident that the other concubines possessed far greater expertise in pleasuring him than you ever could. All you could manage was to feign enthusiasm, your movements faltering and disjointed, as you struggled to produce even a fraction of the satisfaction they effortlessly blessed him with. His laughter, which wasn’t helping your cause, bore an uncanny resemblance to the mocking tones of the girls who had taunted you in the past.

You no longer wished to endure this charade.

You halted in your tracks, unable to muster the courage to meet his gaze, your eyes fixated instead on his throat. “It appears . . . that I may not be adequately versed in fulfilling your needs. I shall endeavour to educate myself further before making another attempt. For now, I request permission to retire for the evening, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s grip tightened as he seized your jaw, compelling you to meet his gaze. “You dare to defy my command to address me by my given name?” His smile remained wicked as he drew your face closer to his own. “Remember, my love, there is a boundary to which I tolerate your rebellion. Do not allow my affections to cloud your judgement. I remain your Lord, above all else. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you managed to gasp out.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Sukuna,” you replied, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

With a swift motion, he released your sore jaw, and before you could even consider easing the ache, his lips crashed against yours.

In that moment, control slipped from your grasp entirely. His hands gripped the flesh of your buttocks possessively, guiding your movements as he claimed you with a primal savageness that left you shaking in his embrace.

“Does it pain you, my beloved?” Sukuna growled, his fingers curling around your nape possessively. “Do you feel the strain of my cock as I breach your tender walls?”

You whimpered softly, your head nodding against the curve of his neck.

“Fear not, my darling. I will diligently train this cunt of yours to accommodate every inch of me, dusk, dawn, and twilight. Your throat, too, shall be honed to fulfil my every whim, wherever and whenever I demand.” With a swift motion, he tugged your hair, forcing you to meet his glare. “And should you dare to entertain thoughts of defiance with any other man beyond the confines of my chamber, rest assured, there will be consequences.”

“Sukuna,” was all you gasped, eyes rolling back as his tip probed the depths of your womb. His tongue traced the delicate curve of your throat before shoving into your mouth, drawing out your own to suckle on. In the heat of the moment, your hands roamed aimlessly, torn between grasping at his waist, clutching his shoulders, or caressing his cheeks.

“Oh, how I love the sight of your breasts greeting me in my face.” Sukuna tightened his hold on each of them with a deadly grasp, savouring the melodious cry that escaped your lips. He lowered his head and teethed each nipple, drawing it out and relishing in the masochism of your sharp nails clawing down his back. “Deeper, my darling. You alone hold the privilege of marking my flesh. Let my scars mirror yours.”

With caution, you shifted your hands to rest upon his firm pectoral muscles before you could accidentally claw out his spinal cord.

Sukuna’s touch drifted from your bruised breasts to cradle your face, guiding your gaze to meet his crimson one.

Encouraged by his comforting presence, you arched your hips forward with newfound confidence. His fingers swept through your hair, pushing it away as he offered reassuring nods.

Now, the reins rested firmly within your grasp.

“Fuck . . .” Leaning back against the headboard, he released soft sighs. Warm breaths escaped his parted lips as you continued increasing your ministrations. Your gaze momentarily flickered to your favourite book resting on his bedside table before returning to his face.

Suddenly seized by an impulse, you leaned forward to plant a tender kiss upon his lips, trailing upward to gently brush against his cheekbones, tracing the intricate markings lining his skin.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Someone must play the role of the tender one between us, Sukuna,” you answered, mirroring the attention he had given your scars during your initial encounter. With each kiss, you felt his eyes tracing your movements, following the path of your lips as they journeyed across his face, landing upon his nose or the pulse of his neck.

“My beloved,” Sukuna’s voice caressed your ears, drawing your focus entirely to him, “listen closely to my words.”

You halted your movements, a curious expression dancing in your eyes. “What troubles you?”

With a deliberate motion, he guided your hips forward, his gaze unwavering. “Throughout the night, I will fill your womb ceaselessly, and in mere weeks, you shall carry my legacy within you.” Your heart leaped into your throat, fluttering with an overwhelming rush of emotion. “Peril will shadow your every step. Those who oppose us will stop at nothing to eliminate your life and the life of our child. Do you comprehend the gravity of our situation?”

You blinked back the tears, resigning yourself to the inevitable.

“But I vow upon my honour, such an atrocity shall never come to pass. I will sever entire bloodlines if even a single strand of your precious hair were harmed.” His movements quickened as he thrusted into you.

Your grip tightened on his shoulders again, gasping for breath between erratic pants.

“At dawn’s light, all concubines shall be reassigned to palace duties. You need only point out those who have dared to trouble you, though their transgressions are already known to me.” His motions became more intense as he pressed you onto your back, pinning your arms above your head. “And when the sun graces the horizon, you, my beloved, shall be proclaimed as my queen.”

Your voice wailed through the chamber as you cried out his name, drowning in the waves of scorching pleasure never before experienced.

Instead of seeing celestial bodies colliding, your gaze met the deep crimson of his irises, those same eyes that had captivated you on that very first night.

“Sukuna . . . ”

With a smile mirroring his own, you tilted your head upward, silently beckoning him to seal the moment with a kiss. As he obliged, his cock pulsed within you, filling you with his warmth until every fibre of your being was tethered with his.

But he didn’t withdraw. Just as he had promised, he intended to keep you close throughout the night, to claim you as his own.

And in that moment, as you laid with him, you welcomed the dawn of a new chapter standing beside him, prepared to reign as Sukuna Ryomen’s queen.

i ended up writing a fic for this

satosugu or sukugo au with canon divergence where he loses his six eyes and inevitably goes blind so when he wakes up, his celestial blue eyes have lost all their colour and glitter. What stares back at shoko is an empty void of black amidst an endless sea of white that stretches and bleeds out of Satoru’s eyes that struggle to adjust to the nothingness around them. And with time, the emptiness within them becomes more and more pronounced, the only remnants of something akin to emotion is a ghastly silhouette who’s existence becomes pronounced once every blue moon, when something shifts in Satoru’s usual expression, a flash of silver in the void, or a glint of teasing blue, appearing only for a flicker of a second before disappearing. It takes everyone weeks, even months to adjust to Gojo’s blindness, he still wears his blindfold and/or glasses out of habit, but also because when in battle, what truly shakes his enemy the most is the subliminal revelation of the vacancy in his eyes. There’s no fear, no arrogance, nothing but simple blankness except to those who manage to catch the occasional exception of it.

hunter and hunted (jjk)

college (summer) break au: a fic in this y/n is pining over Yuji's older brother Sukuna, while unbeknownst to her, Choso is doing the same thing for her. contents: sukuna x reader, choso x reader, modern college AU, yuji and choso are brothers, sukuna and yuji are brothers, eventual smut warning as I'm planning for this to come in parts

index part one | part three

part two word count: 1,357

“y/n what do you want from the soba place down the street? I’m placing an order for all of us.” Yuji was kind enough to let you stay at his place, and that was all you asked, but you had no idea he’d go to great lengths to make you feel at home during your stay.

“get me the kitsune soba, I heard they actually have good tofu.” you respond, not looking up from your phone. “how much do I owe you, I’ll send you the money now before you pay.”

a stray pillow smacks you in the side of the face suddenly, causing you to finally look up at Yuji sitting on the other end of the couch. “it’s on me, and don’t you dare think about looking up the prices and sending me the money anyways, because I will kick you out.”

you feign hurt feelings, even sticking your lip out to pout. “oh Yuji, how could you? you would kick me out on the streets, a poor defenseless girl?” you whine, tilting your head to add to the effect.

“if you try paying for your dinner then yes.” he points a stern finger at you. “don’t test me.”

“I’m sure y/n could make some good money on the streets.” Sukuna’s sudden voice startles you, and you look to the kitchen to find him standing by the fridge. is he serious right now?

“I don’t know, Sukuna. all those tattoos and I’d think women would be fighting each other to pay for your shitty services.” you bite back. you knew Sukuna was demeaning towards women, but towards you? his brother’s best friend? not going to lie, kind of stung a little.

your retaliation made him shut the fridge door and begin to stalk over the where you sat, his eyes narrowed. “oh, shitty services huh? wanna put your money where your mouth it?” he threatened, leaning onto the arm of the couch, thus towering over you.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure I could find a spare quarter sitting around. that’s what it costs for your services right?” your eyes locked with his, finding a challenge behind them. “I’m sure I could find some in this couch right now, Suki.”

at the sound of that nickname, you watch his nostrils flare slightly. “well start digging, y/n. I’m waiting.” and that was that. the final dig, to see if you’d continue playing his game.

“Sukuna, what do you want from the soba place?” Yuji interrupted, his voice somewhat tense. you’d almost forgotten he was here.

the older brother’s eyes didn’t tear away from yours before he said “I’m going out. don’t wait up.” with his response, he pushed off the couch and went straight out the front door, letting out a huff before slamming it.

“what the fuck is his deal? how did you get the nice genes?” you sighed, leaning back onto the cushion and returning to your phone. Yuji didn’t say anything, just stared at you silently. you finally noticed, turning to question him. “what, did I do something wrong?”

“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you stand up to Sukuna with confidence.” before you could respond, he started slow clapping, causing you to laugh. you bow repeatedly, soaking it in. “superb performance. ten out of ten.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

After the food was delivered, you and Yuji sat on the couch to watch anime while eating. you fought over whether Bakugo or Midorya was the better character in My Hero Academia over and over, neither of you wanting to concede in your opinion. occasionally you had to smack his hand away from trying to sneak a bite from your food before you finally gave in and handed him the rest when you couldn’t finish it. the man was like a vacuum, you were terrified he’d eat your finger if you let him.

at some point in your heated character debates, Choso came home. Yuji tried to invite him to join but he said nothing and went upstairs to his room, blaring music following shortly.

you had tried to continue through the next episode, but you were getting more and more annoyed about not being able to hear the show over that damn noise. “is he going to turn it down ever? or blow his eardrums out?” you ask Yuji, but he just shrugs. “fine, then I’m taking care of it.”

you stormed up the stairs and straight to the black haired boys door, not hesitating to bang on it. when you received no response, you started hitting it harder, until finally the door swung open. Choso stood in the doorway, hair down and wearing nothing but sweatpants. sure, normally you’d get flustered but this time you were pissed off.

“where the hell are your manners?” you start, poking his bare chest with your pointer finger roughly. “we are trying to watch a damn show and I can’t even hear it over your music! I’m missing the best parts because you couldn’t care if you go deaf!”

he only stared back at you, mouth agape.

“turn it down, and don’t you dare make me come back up here.” you threatened before turning around to storm off. before you begin down the stairs, you turn around and point your finger at him again. “I will kick your ass.”

when you returned downstairs, Yuji was whistling and looking out the window, not wanting to meet your gaze.

“what? do you want to be next?” you asked him, your tone warning.

“nope, no way. you’re scary when you’re assertive.” Yuji responded, shaking his head and resuming the episode you were on. you took your seat back on the couch with a huff as you crossed your arms. you weren’t that scary, right?

evidently, just scary enough to only hear low music from Choso’s room the rest of the night, even after you’d gone to bed.

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the next morning, you were making yourself breakfast when Choso showed his face. “can I enter the kitchen or should I stand here in silence?” he asked you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

you chuckled before responding, “of course, Cho. it’s your house, and I’m sorry I yelled at you last night. Sukuna had me on edge already and then with your music it was like I was losing my mind.”

“what did that asshole do this time?” Choso questioned as he leaned against the bar.

“just being a jerk as usual, testing boundaries like he does.” you told him, rolling your eyes as you scraped your scrambled eggs onto a plate. as you took a bite, Choso watched you intently. “what?”

“do I need to beat him up?” he asked, his face dead serious.

“oh, no!” you shook your head quickly, holding your hands up in front of you. “first of all, it wouldn’t do any good. second, I don’t want to have to patch up whoever is on the losing end.”

Choso only hummed in response before reaching over and grabbing a bit of your eggs with his fingers. he was too fast for you to smack his hand away, leaving you to follow his hand to where he was now putting the bite into his mouth and licking his lips. [you really should stop blushing; man was just trying to eat.]

“keep your dirty mitts off my food.” you teased, pushing your plate out of his reach.

“or what?” you paused at his words, trying to decide if you were going to compare him to Sukuna or just let yourself have a heart attack.

“or…” you desperately tried to come up with a witty comeback. “or, I’m stealing the speakers from your room.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Choso replied, a smirk playing on his lips as he reached for another morsel off your plate. this time, you were faster and smacked his hand. “oy!’

“if you’re hungry I’ll make you some eggs but stop eating with your damn hands.” you told him, and as you turned to grab ingredients you could hear him stealing your plate instead. well… there goes all your hard work.

hunter and hunted (jjk)

college (summer) break au: a fic in this y/n is pining over Yuji's older brother Sukuna, while unbeknownst to her, Choso is doing the same thing for her. contents: sukuna x reader, choso x reader, modern college AU, yuji and choso are brothers, sukuna and yuji are brothers, eventual smut warning as I'm planning for this to come in parts

chapter warnings: light suggestive teasing

index part one | part two | part four

part three word count: 1,246

you were trying to have a nice day with the house to yourself. no boys around to make a mess or cause a ruckus. Yuji went to hang out with Megumi and Nobara, Sukuna was probably off committing a crime, and Choso went out to do whatever he’d muttered under his breath when you’d asked.  

it was nice to be in the living room, watching and following a yoga video on the tv while wearing your favorite workout set. while you appreciated being moved into the guest bedroom and make it feel homier, but it wasn’t quite as large as Yuji’s. so, you’d had to make the living room your work out space for the day. 

you were in the middle of a tough position (gandha bherundasana, or formidable face pose), when you heard a key turning in the front door. it almost broke your concentration, but you forced yourself to stick with it, silently hoping it was Yuji, or even Choso; just not Sukuna because you knew he’d make fun of you immediately.  

oh, the universe was certainly against you today. when Sukuna stepped into the living room and took in your awkward yoga pose, he scoffed in disbelief. 

“what the hell are you doing?” he asked, his lip curling in disgust. the cosmos was conspiring against you. 

“it’s a yoga pose called the formidable face pose,” you grunted, struggling to speak through your labored breathing. “you should try it; it’s actually pretty challenging.” 

Sukuna gave you a dismissive click of his tongue, shaking his head. “doesn’t look that hard to me.” 

a mischievous smirk played on your lips. “I bet you can’t even get to the point I'm at.” you knew Sukuna’s competitive nature would make him take the bait. 

true to form, Sukuna dropped onto the carpet beside you, cursing under his breath as he attempted to mimic the pose. you had since abandoned your position and sat cross-legged, watching him struggle as he followed the rewound video. 

you had to stifle a told you so when Sukuna, with impressive flexibility, managed to get into the pose faster than you had and held it effortlessly, barely breaking a sweat. “how the hell did you do that?” you asked, examining how his body bent with surprising ease. and examining his abs as his shirt rode up. 

“see? told you it wasn’t that hard. you’re just weak,” Sukuna replied with a smug grin. “maybe if ya spent less time stuffing your face, you’d be able to do it too.” 

in retaliation, you shoved your hands into his side, sending him tumbling over. “take that back, Ryomen Sukuna,” you snapped, delivering a sharp slap to his arm. 

before you could strike him again, Sukuna grabbed your wrist and rolled you beneath him. the sudden proximity made you acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body as he pinned you to the floor. his face was inches from yours, his wicked smirk the only thing between you as he hovered above. 

“make me.” he said lowly, and you squirmed slightly under his grasp.  

if his hands hadn’t had you pinned, his deep red eyes would’ve kept you fixed on the spot. his gaze dared you to respond, to make another move, and for fuck’s sake you couldn’t think of a comeback.  not with his beautiful lips right in front of you.

“did ya hear me, brat?” Sukuna said while getting closer, his nose brushing against yours. “I said. make. me.” 

you did the first thing that came to mind, something so childish and spontaneous that you knew you'd cringe when you looked back on it. you tilted your head and bit down on his nose. 

Sukuna froze, his eyes widening as your teeth made contact, the light pressure a stark contrast to the intensity of the moment. your face flushed a deep pink, a mix of embarrassment and nervousness. seizing the opportunity the distraction created, you scrambled out from beneath him, managing to scoot far enough away to put some distance between you. 

“I'm so sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” you blurted out, your voice trembling with mortification as you clamped a hand over your mouth, hoping to hide your red cheeks. Sukuna remained sitting there, blinking as if he was just now processing what had happened. after a moment of stunned silence, he snapped out of his daze, shaking his head as though to clear his thoughts. 

“if ya wanted to taste me you should’ve just asked, doll face.” and there he was, crude Sukuna coming back to the surface.  

“you’re a pig.” you growled as you stood from the ground. “I’m going to shower. you can keep watching the video if you want. oh, and I hope you twist yourself into a pretzel and get stuck, asshole.”  

“want me to join? you can taste more of me.” Sukuna hollered behind you, earning a quick middle finger over your shoulder before you slammed the bathroom door behind you. 

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“y-you did what to him?” Yuji burst out laughing, nearly choking on his food as you recounted the events in the living room. Your face flushed with embarrassment as you described the biting incident, carefully omitting Sukuna’s remarks to spare his pride. 

“y-you did what to him?” Yuji burst out laughing, nearly choking on his food as you recounted the events in the living room. your face flushed with embarrassment as you described the biting incident. carefully omitting Sukuna’s remarks to spare him. 

Yuji’s laughter slowly subsided, though a wide grin still lingered on his face. he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still clearly amused by your mortification. “I can’t believe you actually bit him on the nose!” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “that’s… that’s classic!” 

you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, burying your face in your hands. “I know, I know. it was a stupid, spur-of-the-moment thing. I was just so flustered, and it seemed like the only thing i could do.” 

Yuji leaned back, still chuckling. “hey, at least you got away from him, right? I bet he was just as shocked as you were.” 

“yeah,” you said, peeking through your fingers. “he looked like he was in a daze. I felt so embarrassed. I almost wished I could disappear right then and there.” 

Yuji grinned sympathetically. “don’t sweat it. we all have those moments. besides, it sounds like Sukuna was more stunned than anything. he’ll probably just laugh it off later, knowing him.” 

you gave a small, appreciative smile, feeling a bit better. “thanks, Yuji. I just hope he doesn’t hold it against me.” 

“don’t worry about it,” Yuji said, patting you on the back. “if anyone can take a bite on the nose, it’s Sukuna. and hey, at least you didn’t start a full-scale wrestling match or something. I don’t know that you would’ve won that one.” 

you laughed, the tension easing. “true. I suppose it could have been worse. I'll just have to find a way to make it up to him.” 

Yuji shook his head, still smiling. “no, I wouldn’t go so far as to do that. Sukuna can be... well, he can be an asshole. he probably deserved a little bloodshed.” 

with a final chuckle from your mouth, Yuji returned to his meal, and you joined in, feeling the embarrassment slowly fade into a lighter, more humorous memory.  

you just sincerely hoped Ryomen Sukuna wouldn’t find some way to retaliate.  

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