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kodzuksn · 16 hours ago

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michael kaiser — crybaby

⤷ summary: you knew michael kaiser had a past—he was a heartbreaker, a player, a man built for the spotlight. but you didn’t expect it to hurt this much. and you didn’t expect him to choose you this softly.

⤷ content: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, romance, emotional healing, insecure!reader × protective!kaiser, established relationship

michael kaiser was a lot of things before he met you.

and everyone knew it.

a heartbreaker. a flirt. a man who left lipstick stains on his collar and never remembered the name of the girl who left them. they called him the emperor for a reason—not just because of how he ruled the field, but because of how he ruled hearts, only to toss them aside when he got bored.

and you? you weren’t stupid. you knew exactly who he was before you even let him touch you. you weren’t supposed to fall for him. but somehow, you did.

somehow, he made you feel like you were the only girl in the world.

but that didn’t mean the fear went away.

especially not tonight.

it started with a tweet. one you didn’t mean to see. you were just scrolling through your feed to distract yourself from studying, and there it was—#kaiserxamelie trending in bold letters. a blurry photo attached: michael, supposedly laughing with some model at an event you didn’t know he went to. she was stunning. the kind of beautiful that made you shrink in your seat.

people were already eating it up. shipping them. calling them "perfect together."

you stared at your screen until the words blurred. until your stomach twisted and your chest grew tight and you couldn’t breathe around the ache.

you tried to convince yourself it meant nothing. you tried so, so hard.

but your mind was a cruel thing, feeding you every 'what if' you’d been avoiding since you met him.

what if he found someone better? what if you were just another one of his phases? what if he never really stopped being a playboy—just got better at hiding it?

and worst of all:

what if he leaves you, too?

like the last one did.

so you cried. you cried the way you always did when the world felt like it was closing in. quiet and curled up under your sheets, pillow pressed to your face, trying to suffocate the sobs.

—

you spent the whole afternoon lying in bed, phone clutched in your trembling hand, that trending hashtag burned into your memory like a scar. you tried to look away, to distract yourself, to reason with the ugly voices clawing inside your brain—but nothing worked. every time you blinked, you saw his name next to hers. saw the photos. the quote retweets. the laughing emojis. the assumptions.

“kaiser and amelie confirmed?”

“i knew he couldn’t stay loyal for long.”

“poor girl, whoever she is.”

you felt like a fool.

every doubt you tried to bury started digging itself out of the grave. all the smiles he gave to others. the way girls still looked at him like he was god. the way he sometimes flirted just to win. and you—how could someone like him ever want someone like you? someone who cries when overwhelmed. someone who flinches at love like it’s a loaded weapon.

you sat there in the dark, curled up under your blanket like it could protect you from a heartbreak that hadn’t even happened yet. but god, it felt like it had. your chest ached. your stomach twisted. your brain wouldn’t shut up.

what if he really was tired of you?

what if you were just another name on a long list of girls who thought they were special?

what if he was already planning to leave?

you bit your lip until it bled just to stop yourself from sobbing again. but the tears came anyway, hot and endless, like they’d been waiting for this moment. you cried until your head throbbed. until your voice went hoarse. until your pillow was soaked and your hands felt cold and useless.

—

by the time michael got home, you were a mess.

"schatz?" his voice echoed down the hall, casual and light. "i brought your favorite—"

he stopped when he saw you. you didn’t even hear the bag drop to the floor. your head was still buried beneath the blanket.

"hey... hey, baby," he was kneeling by your bed in an instant, his hand gently tugging the sheets down. "what happened? why’re you crying like this?"

you turned away from him, biting back another sob. your voice was hoarse and small when you mumbled, "it's nothing."

"don’t do that," he said quietly. "don’t lie to me. talk to me, schatz. did someone hurt you?"

you shook your head. but your shoulders were trembling. he could see it—hell, he could feel it. his girl, the one who cried when she dropped her favorite mug, who got weepy over sad commercials, was breaking in front of him.

and he had no idea why.

"was it me?" he whispered. "did i do something wrong? please—please just tell me."

you finally turned to him. your eyes were red and swollen, lashes wet, cheeks blotchy from crying for hours. your lips trembled as you tried to speak.

"i saw a tweet..." you started, voice barely there. "they said you were with someone. some model. and—and everyone was saying you looked good together and i... i know it’s stupid, i just..."

more tears spilled.

"i got scared. i thought maybe you’d realized you could do better. that you’d leave. that you’d cheat."

and there it was.

the wound you’d kept hidden. the fear that festered quietly behind your smiles and soft kisses. it all spilled out in broken pieces.

michael was silent.

for a second.

then, gently, he cupped your face with both hands. thumbs wiping your tears away like they were poison on your skin.

"hey," he said, forehead pressing to yours. "look at me. look at me, schatz."

you tried, even through the tears.

"do you really think i’d ever do that to you?"

you hesitated. he kissed the corner of your eyes, soft and slow.

"do you really think i’d ruin the best thing in my entire life for someone i won’t even remember the name of tomorrow?"

you hiccupped, sniffling. he kissed your other eye.

"i know i used to be a dick. a dumbass, even. but i’m yours now. completely. every messy, chaotic, obsessed part of me. i’m yours."

his lips found your cheeks, warm and damp with salt.

"i don’t want anyone else. i’ve never wanted anyone else since the moment you looked at me like i mattered. since the moment you kissed me like i wasn’t just another pretty face."

his hands curled around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

his arms tighten around you, like he’s trying to convince your bones that they belong here—with him. he rests his cheek against the crown of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

“i don’t care what the world says about me,” he murmurs, voice low and scratchy, “but it kills me that you think i could hurt you like that.”

you sniffle, still curled against his chest, fingers fisting the fabric of his hoodie. “i—I didn’t mean to. i just... i got scared.”

“i know, baby,” he says, rubbing slow circles on your back. “i know what that kind of fear feels like. i hate that you felt it because of me.”

he leans back just enough to look you in the eyes—those pretty, watery eyes he swears he’d fight the world for. then, with the softest voice he’s probably ever used in his life, he says, “you’re my person, okay? no one else. no one ever comes close.”

he presses another kiss to the tip of your nose. “even when you cry so hard your nose turns red and you sound like a little hiccup machine.”

you sniff, letting out a shaky laugh through your tears.

“there she is,” he smiles. “still the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

"and if you ever see shit like that online again, please—please just come to me. don’t cry alone like this, schatz. my heart can’t take it."

your arms looped around his back. you felt so small in his arms.

"‘m sorry," you mumbled. "i just... i got scared. my ex—he cheated on me, and i keep thinking you’ll get tired of me, too."

he pulled back, just enough to kiss your lips.

"never. you hear me? never. you could cry every day, snore in your sleep, burn toast every morning, and i’d still pick you in every lifetime."

that made you choke on a laugh.

"...i don’t snore."

"you do. like a baby walrus. but it’s cute."

"kaiser—"

he kissed you again. slower this time. sweeter.

"go to sleep, crybaby," he whispered into your hair. "i'll be right here. always."

that night, for the first time in what felt like forever, you fell asleep in his arms. safe. loved.

and michael kaiser held you like you were his entire world.

because you were.

—

his grip stays gentle even as your breathing evens out, soft and steady against his chest. he brushes your hair away from your face, pressing one last kiss to your forehead, then shifts slightly—just enough to free one hand and reach for his phone on the nightstand.

his other arm never moves from around you. he won’t risk waking you. not when you look so at peace. not when you finally let yourself rest.

and god, the sight of your tear-streaked cheeks still makes something violent twist in his chest.

he's angry. not at you—never at you—but at the world for putting that look on your face. at the people online who think they know him. at himself, for ever giving you a reason to doubt how completely, utterly his you are.

he taps on his screen, presses call, and waits.

“hey,” he mutters when the line picks up, voice quiet but laced with steel. “get those fucking posts taken down. now. all of them.”

a pause.

“you hear me? i want everything wiped—tweets, tags, articles, reddit threads, burner accounts—everything. i don’t care if it’s 1 a.m. i don’t care if you need a damn lawyer. fix it.”

another pause. his jaw tightens.

“i don’t care if you have to contact the platform or sell your damn soul, i want every single photo and rumor wiped. i’m not asking again.”

his tone leaves no room for negotiation. he may be a player on the field, but off it? he’s a king, and he doesn’t tolerate disrespect. especially not toward you.

another pause.

“good.”

he ends the call with a sigh, sets the phone face down, and curls his arm back around you like that was where it always belonged. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, breath syncing with yours, finally letting himself fall asleep.

he’ll deal with the rest of the world tomorrow. the fans, the press, the rumors. he’ll face it all with his chin high and his crown steady.

but tonight? he holds you like you’re the only thing that matters.

and if the world was gonna try and make you doubt him again?

then he'd burn the whole fucking thing down before he ever let it touch you.

“and if the world ever dares to hurt you again, may it know the wrath of the boy who once swore to never let go.”

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kodzuksn · 23 hours ago

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❛ 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗡’ 𝗢𝗡 𝗠𝗬 𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗢𝗢𝗦 ブルーロック

synopsis. kaiser etches your kisses into his skin, permanently

contents. sfw! slightly suggestive if you squint. pro player! michael kaiser x fem! reader. est rel. they’re dating. reader gets called schatz & liebling. kaiser may be a little ooc i fear

michael kaiser is weirdly obsessed with your kisses. he leaves your lipstick marks on his skin because they’re proof he’s wanted. proof he’s loved. he wants everyone to see them, wants the universe to know he’s yours, and he’s immensely proud of it.

he shows up at soccer practice with glossy red marks littered just above his collarbone, like they’re a part of his uniform. at interviews, they’re smeared across his jawline. he grins shamelessly every time an interviewer pretends not to notice them, like he’s daring them to ask, just so he can brag about his relationship with you.

on the red carpet, he turns slightly to the side to let the cameras catch the faint glossy imprint you left on his cheek. even during the world cup, the world cup, he lifts up his jersey post-match and there it is. your kiss, stamped right on his abs, impossible to miss.

he wears your kisses everywhere. on his neck, along his jawline, just above his waistband. half-tucked away beneath the fabric. intimate and hidden from the rest of the world. he loves those the most, they’re quieter, softer, private, proof of your connection. of something real. and he loves the weight of it.

it’s more than lipstick to him. it’s love etched on his skin. it’s his signature at this point and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

it starts off as a joke. you’re sitting cross legged on the couch in one of his jerseys, when he strolls in after practice with yet another kiss of yours pressed above his collarbone.

you weren’t trying to start anything, not really, just pointing out the fact your lipstick was always on kaiser’s body and he did absolutely nothing about it. he wouldn’t even let you wipe them off yourself.

you’d be annoyed if he didn’t look so pretty with them. you’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so proud of himself.

“you might as well get them tattooed at this point mihya,” you say, shaking your head. half laughing, half-exasperated. you expect him to join in your laughter. to brush it off and call you silly. instead, he tilts his head and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips

“ja? you want me to?” his light blue eyes sparkle as he wraps his arms around you, “where should i get them, schatz?”

and when you roll your eyes, pretending to be unimpressed, pretending not to melt under his piercing gaze, he just grins wider. that cocky, irresistible smile that always gets under your skin. the kind that says he already knows you secretly want him to.

for a second, you think he’s bluffing. just messing with you like he always does.

“i’m serious,” he murmurs, voice low as his lips graze the shell of your ear, “your lips look good on me, might as well make them permanent”

something about the way he says it makes your heart stutter. you hate how much it gets to you so you brush him off with a scoff, refusing to meet his sapphire gaze as you push lightly at his chest

he doesn’t budge, lips brushing along your jaw as he murmurs again, “pick a spot liebling, anywhere and i’ll do it”

you almost forget about it. almost. he doesn’t bring it up and neither do you. until exactly a week later, he walks into your shared kitchen fresh from the shower, shirtless with loose-fitting sweats hanging low on his waist, and drops a blank sheet of paper down on the counter. alongside it is your favourite lipstick.

you glance up briefly before returning to your bowl of fruits, “. . .what’s that?”

he slides your lipstick across the marble towards you, “need three of ‘em schatz”, you blink at him curiously, “three kisses” he clarifies, “for the tattoo”

you begin to laugh, but he isn’t laughing with you. and your laughter dies in your throat, “oh, you’re serious?”

“dead” he leans against the counter, arms folded. his blonde and blue hair is a mess of wet curls, clinging to his forehead. and his impossibly blue eyes don’t waver. he isn’t playing around this time. “my appointment’s in twenty minutes”

you stare at him for a moment, then glance down at the paper, then back at him, “you’re actually getting my lips tattooed on you?”

“ja” he replies, like he can’t comprehend why on earth he wouldn’t, “you said i might as well schatz, so now i am”

your lips part but no words are formed. he looks positively pleased with himself, “three kisses” he repeats, tapping the paper impatiently, “one for each year we’ve been together.”

“you’re insane” you mutter, grabbing the lipstick and twisting the cap off with a click. for once, he doesn’t argue. he just watches you with quiet satisfaction as you press kisses to the paper. slow and deliberate. “there. three”

he doesn’t say anything right away, just stares down at the paper wordlessly like it’s something precious. like it’s more than three red lipstick stains on paper. he holds it a second longer than necessary, like he doesn’t want to crease it, but eventually he does, slowly, carefully, before slipping it into his pocket.

you think that’s it. that he’ll walk off smugly and stop bothering you. instead, he pads lazily around the counter, veiny hand cupping your jaw, thumb brushing the curve of your cheek, and he looks at you like you hung the stars just for him.

he leans in, nose brushing against yours as he kisses you. his lips taste faintly of mint. his fingers tighten around your waist, pulling you close enough for your chest to brush against his. when he finally pulls away, his lips hover just above yours, eyes half-lidded and soft

“i’ll be back soon liebling,” he whispers affectionately, lips ghosting over yours, light blue eyes shining with something softer than their usual cocky glint “try not to miss me too much”

with one last kiss to your temple, he turns away. you watch as he trudges to your bedroom to throw on a hoodie. a minute later, he grabs his keys from the counter, winking at you on his way out.

he’s gone long enough for you to stop doubting him, long enough for the utter ridiculousness of it all to wear off. long enough for it to start feeling real. you spent the first hour pacing, shaking your head, and laughing. because you couldn’t fathom how a meaningless joke had spiraled into this.

in the hours after the first had passed, your mind ran wild with possibilities of what the tattoos would look like. where would he get them? how big would they be? would he ask his tattoo artist to ink your name beneath them? you tried to convince yourself that no one could possibly be this obsessed with you. not even him. he had to be bluffing

spoiler alert: he wasn’t. he was dead serious

the front door opens a little after sunset, flooding the living room with mellow light. kaiser kicks off his shoes, drops his keys on the counter and doesn’t say much of anything.he just stands there, lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh.

you sit up straighter on the couch, folding your arms over your chest “so?”

“so what schatz?” he cocks his head, feigning ignorance

“did you. . ?” you narrow your eyes at him from across the room “don’t mess with me mihya”

“come here.” he smirks, eyes sparkling with that infuriating confidence that makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. you hesitate. he crooks a finger, beckoning you closer and he knows you’ll come.

you cross the room reluctantly. kaiser hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats, eyes locked on yours the whole time, and slowly pulls them down just enough to show you.

your brain short circuits. there they are. three perfect, inked kiss marks. curved right along his v-line. identical to the ones you left on that paper.

“oh my—” you whisper, your hand lifts before you can stop it, fingertips grazing the saniderm draped over the kiss etched on his pelvis. the tattoos were still slightly red and sore around the edges. he sucks in a sharp breath as your hand falls to your side, “you actually—”

“told you i would” he shrugs, “and next year, i’ll get a fourth.” he murmurs, “one for each year we’re together”

he says it like the future is already set in stone. like loving you is the only thing he’s ever been sure of. like there’s no alternate universe or timeline where he could ever love anyone else.

“you’re gonna run out of space eventually”

“i’ll make more” he steps closer, drifting into your personal space like he owns it, like he owns you. his arms slide around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“you’re ridiculous” you say, shaking your head fondly as he grabs your wrist and brings it down to press against the tattoos, right over the fresh ink, still warm beneath his skin. he holds it there. holds you there.

“you love it,” he whispers, tilting his head just slightly, just enough to drag his lips over your jaw. “you love me.”

your voice is quieter when you reply, “i do love you”

“you know what i love?” he grins, placing a feather-light kiss to your sternum.

“mm?” you manage, breath catching in your throat as he presses yet another kiss to your collarbone. then your neck. soft and slow, like he’s savoring it.

“that now” he says, pressing another kiss to your jaw, “even when we’re miles apart. even when you’re not kissing me. . .” his lips find yours. hover there, barely touching. “you still will be, forever liebling ”

and when he kisses you for real, it feels like he’s right. like you’ll never truly stop kissing him. you curl your fingers into the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him impossibly closer, but it doesn’t feel close enough. it never will

kaiser kisses you like he’s memorizing the shape of you. like he needs to feel you to breathe. like the ink on his body isn’t enough, and he needs this too. he needs this more

when he finally pulls away, just barely, lips brushing against yours with each breath, his eyes are softer than they’ve ever been betore. and he knows, for certain, he would endure the pain of getting tattooed a million times over if it meant he got to keep you like this. in his arms. in his life, forever.

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kodzuksn · 1 day ago

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“wai—wait, no tongue rinnie, i dunno—“

“relax,” suna mumbles against your lips, pressing a soft kiss against your bottom lip. “i’ll teach you, don’t worry.” you whine, embarrassed that he may find your inexperience to be a turn off. “just follow through with m’tongue okay?”

“mhmn..” you mumble, gasping when he presses his swollen lips onto yours once again. he presses himself further into your body, your legs enveloping around his waist and tugging him in. you shiver, mouth gaping wider on instinct when you feel his silky tongue slip in between your lips, running itself over yours.

it’s so fucking wet, and so hot, you can taste his sweet spit on your tongue. it makes you ache everywhere, body sparked with excitement yet nervousness. “c’mon, try.” he groans against you, letting your tongue nervously glide against his on command. he lets out a guttural groan, grinding unconsciously into your thigh, mumbling a half coherent apology before he slips his tongue back into your mouth.

he runs the hot muscle over yours, curling over and around it with messy spit beginning to coat your lips. he doesn’t slow despite your tongue faltering and clearly weakening with every stroke of his tongue against yours. “y’r so weak baby.” he chuckles, pulling away slightly.

both of your breaths are labored, your softened eyes meet his , filled with so much love that they sparkle under the dim light. his pupils seem to dialate over and over, and you can’t help but giggle at the sight.

you can still feel the heat of his breath against your lips, one of his hands with a tight hold against your waist, and one sprawled across your shoulder — holding you still. it’s all so intimate, and all so new.

“can we d—do it again? wanna try again..” you quip, cheeks flushing at the dumb, dumb question.

as if he would say no.

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kodzuksn · 2 days ago

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♡₊˚🥀₊✧ 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 sat 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, and 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 drawn, 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 from 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 notions.

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, wearing the cruel marks of torture.

His face marred by countless wounds, an eye 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.

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kodzuksn · 2 days ago

Text

"tears"

fluff for the sukuna fans bc i've been in a soft sukuna mood

ryomen sukuna x reader

Synopsis: sukuna isn't a stranger to arguments with you, but when he catches you crying after a particularly harsh one, he finds himself scrambling to fix it... in his own way

to sum it up: sukuna is an asshole but he loves you, so he tries his best

WC: 3,296

Warning(s): a lil angst

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you first started a relationship with the infamous king of curses, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less when his tendency to be an asshole hurt your feelings.

You know Sukuna isn’t a sentimental person who cares much for things like verbal reassurance, or consideration for the way the things he says can impact you, or anyone for that matter, but damn! Sometimes, he’s just too much of a jerk for you to handle, and Sukuna himself has no idea why your fragile human emotions sway you to be so affected by him. He doesn’t even think he’s said anything wrong the times in which you grow angry with him.

Now, Sukuna can handle your anger. Anger is good. Anger means that there is something he can react to, something he can tame or involve into your intimacies when he takes your mind off of silly arguments or subdues your attitude over what he deems to be small inconveniences. Anger is the only human emotion that he has felt himself in his many years of existence, so he knows what to expect. He understands it. He’s not, in the slightest, intimidated by it.

But what Sukuna finds he can not handle is the sound of your sniffles that resound from behind your door after you’ve just slammed it into his face. Sukuna angles his brows, pressing his ear to the door in confusion. Are you… cold? Coming down with a fever? What the hell are you sniffing your nose so much for?

Then he hears the meek gasps that intercept, the vocalization of pain that creeps into your weakened inhalations that accompany your damned sniffling. That’s when he realizes that you’re crying, and his pupils shrink slightly knowing that he has gone a little too far this time.

Hell, how is he supposed to handle you crying? He can’t fuck your sadness away like he can with your irritation. He can’t mirror your sadness, since he has no clue what the hell it��s supposed to feel like. He can’t empathize with it either, for he has no idea what he could have done to bring tears to your eyes and empathy, well, it’s not in his vocabulary to begin with. It’s pathetic, he thinks, the way you have allowed him to bother you this much…

Yet it kills him to know that he’s the reason behind your tears.

He stands there for some time, unsure of what to do. Should he get Uraume to handle this? No, that may make things worse. You may want to be alone.

He turns to leave, but something stops him. He feels an ache in his chest, pressing his hand to his bicep. What the hell? What is this feeling?

He can still hear you crying, and somehow, it sounds like it’s getting worse, louder, or perhaps that is all in his head. He can no longer tell, but that sound you’re making is the only thing occupying his mind, and it’s ruining him. It’s making his chest tighten, his brow furrow, his lips press together tightly. He should leave, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to abandon you like this.

Never once in his life has Sukuna felt remorse. Not even for all the times he has made you angry in the past when you two have had arguments. He is so quick to blame your reactions to things on your feeble human emotions. He is so quick to evade responsibility, or more so, refrain from guilting himself over the things he is responsible for. He is so quick to dismiss you, but it’s always fine because he has never witnessed you grow sad over his behavior, not until now.

Sukuna turns back to your door slowly. His hand flies to grab the handle to throw the door open, but he hesitates. He’s unsure of what’s happening to him, for he’s never hesitated before in his life. This, you crying, him second guessing himself, it’s all so new and he hates it. He needs to fix this immediately.

What do you humans like when you are upset? There’s a word that’s slipping his mind, one he always hears you pester him for but turns down repeatedly. He had found the concept so irrelevant that he hadn’t even bothered to recall what it’s called.

He crosses his arms and stares ahead harshly in thought, then it comes to him. An apology! Yes, that’s what it is. But of course, you can’t expect him to verbalize such a thing. You must want something as a gift. A physical representation of his desire not to see you cry. He rushes off to locate Uraume for preparations.

About an hour later, you’re curled up on your bed and facing the wall with a blank stare. Your tears stopped a while ago, and since you hadn’t heard from Sukuna, you assumed he just didn’t care about your feelings. Like always.

“Oi,” a gruff voice through the door startles you. You jump and turn over, curling your brows in confusion at the sound of Sukuna’s voice. For a moment, you don’t believe he is speaking to you, so you wait some time to see if he will speak again. “I know you can hear me in there,” his voice sounds again, and you groan.

“Go away,” you tell him, flipping back over.

Sukuna, on the other side of the wall, clicks his tongue in agitation. “Quit your pouting and come open this door.”

“No. Until you learn how to treat me better, I don’t want to see you.”

Treat you better? Sukuna doesn’t understand this nonsense. You live in his large estate, you’re pampered by servants, showered with gifts and homemade meals, you sleep by his side every night, and he allows you to disrespect him far more often than he should. Not to mention, he has his arms full of presents at this very moment that are preventing him from opening the door himself. How can he possibly treat you any better than he’s already treating you?

He growls lowly and closes his eyes in irritation. “If you open the door, your mood will improve.”

“I don’t want anything other than what I just said.”

Sukuna’s eye twitches. Why are you so damn difficult? “What is your-”

“Go. Away.”

Oh. Alright, then.

You sit up abruptly when Sukuna’s foot breaks in the door with a loud crash. You stare with wide eyes, the door, now off its hinge, creaking open weakly to reveal the king of curses with his arms full of several bouquets of flowers.

“What the fuck, Sukuna?!” you cry. He only stares frustratedly as he walks into the space univinted.

“This was going to go on for too long if I hadn’t done something,” he says, approaching the side of your bed.

“You can’t just- fuck! What is wrong with you?”

Okay… this is already going poorly.

This is not the reaction he had desired from you, and perhaps he should have revisited the idea of kicking in the door, but he had been growing impatient. Despite his big talk, he doesn’t like when you speak to him in such a cold way. He doesn’t like being separated from you. He doesn’t like not being able to see your face, and after all the work he has just done to collect these plants for you, he can not tolerate being turned away.

“Must you be so dramatic?” he tsks. “Do you not see what I have brought to you? Don’t you humans like these things?”

You stare at him incredulously, mouth agape. Sukuna can see the tear stains clear on your face, and his heart clenches again. God, why is that sight so abominable?

He holds his arms out, presenting the flowers to you as if you could have possibly missed them. “They are yours. Take them and be done with this.”

“Be done with what, Sukuna?” you shake your head, face scrunched.

“With your tantrum- your tears, and the sniffles. Be done with them now. Here.”

You scoff. “Do you even know why you're giving these to me?”

Sukuna raises a brow. “To cease your tantrum. As I just said.”

“I can’t with you sometimes, Sukuna. Honestly.”

“This is really the thanks that I get for bringing you these damn flowers? I thought you were supposed to like things like this. Why would you make me waste my time?”

“If you think it’s a fucking waste of time to bring me flowers, then there’s your problem right there,” you raise your voice, pointing at him accusingly. Sukuna’s face hardens. He thinks you’re getting angry again, but he can still see the sadness behind your eyes. You look almost… defeated. “And if you knew me at all, you’d know that I never cared about any of that stuff. I never cared about the flashiness or the gifts or whatever the fuck.”

Sukuna lowers his hands, letting the bouquets drop carelessly to the floor. “Now you are accusing me of not knowing you?” he seethes. “I’m not sure when you decided that it was acceptable for you to speak to me this way, but I will not tolerate it. I do nothing but dote on you, you ungrateful brat.”

“Yeah, sure, you dote on me, and then you turn around and berate me and call everything I feel stupid because you don’t care to even try to understand why some of the things you say are not okay!”

Sukuna walks closer to invade your personal space, leaning in to glare angrily at you as you do the same. This is what he knows. This is what he chooses to respond to. Not the curl in your brow, not the tremble of your lips, not the unsteadiness of your voice, but your anger. “Why should I care if all you do is whine,” he grumbles.

You clamp your mouth shut as a lump forms in your throat. Sukuna watches you unravel before him, and while he tries to keep an unmoved expression, he is internally panicking when he sees your eyes gloss over again and your nose flare.

Shit. He’s supposed to be making you feel better. How has he gone and made things worse again? Why is he incapable of understanding how to be what you want him to be?

You take in a trembling inhale as your hands clench and unclench at your sides. You don’t want him to see you cry. You don’t want him to call you weak, but you can’t help the tear that breaks past your lashes and dashes down your cheek, a physical display of your heartache.

Sukuna’s crimson eyes fly to the tear, and his brows smooth out against his intent.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You’re crying again, and it’s his fault. It’s always been his fault. What is this now that he’s feeling? Regret? Shame? Is that what is clawing at his chest and stripping him of his resolve? Making him wish to replay this entire interaction so that you do not appear before him with tears in your eyes once more? Is this what it is to fall?

You rub angrily at your eyes and huff, turning away from him and plopping back down on your bed, back facing him. You shut yourself away, close yourself off, and deprive Sukuna of your pretty face for the second time today. “Just leave me alone. You’ve made it perfectly clear that you don’t give a fuck about me or anything, for that matter.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen slightly with the deepening of his frown. That ache he has felt in his chest spreads throughout his body, serving as tension in his back, head, and shoulders. You think he doesn’t care for you? What nonsense. You’re the only being on this planet who has made a millennia of existence worth living, and you think he doesn’t care?

Sukuna can not even pin the blame onto you this time around. He can not accuse you of overreacting, nor can he evade such a thing that is so clearly his doing. He has made you feel uncared for, and while his temper may get out of hand, and his inability to fully comprehend the plagues of the human mind gets in the way, and he never tells you that he loves you, making you feel unloved is the last thing he ever meant to do.

“Hey,” he mumbles, but you do not move. You cling to yourself for comfort because you do not believe he can provide any for you. “Brat-” he starts, but rethinks. He reaches his hand out to you. “(Y/n). Enough of this.”

“I don’t want to see you right now, Sukuna. Can’t you respect at least that for once?” you croak.

His hand freezes and he lets it fall. Respect. Understanding. That is what you want from him, and he has not been giving it to you. He has not been giving you anything that you request of him emotionally, for that matter. He has been neglecting your mental needs whilst overpowering you with the physical, and it’s drawn you away from him.

He could force you to get up. He could drag you by your hair to his bedroom. He could make you look him in the eye, make you stay with him, make you stay silent about this from this point on and forever more. Sukuna has the power and the authority to do so…

But the idea is not appealing. Not in the slightest.

Sukuna wants you happy. He wants you to want to be with him willingly, and if he ignores your consent now of all times, it would be like throwing away the life he has built with you. Throwing away your desires, and Sukuna does not long for a world in which you are any more uncomfortable than you already are.

He takes a step back, looking over the flowers that he has dropped, and accepts the will of the mortal he fell in love with.

“I will be in my chambers if or whenever you wish to see me,” he says lowly, giving in. He moves to leave but stops himself once more. He never had stopped himself this much before. “...I apologize for making you cry. I will send someone to fix your door immediately.”

Sukuna is well on his way when he hears you shuffling behind him. He turns, admittedly hopeful for your reaction, and finds you peeking in confusion over your shoulder. “...What did you just say?” you whisper.

The king of curses stalls, looking directly into your eyes from across the room. He feels suddenly… weak. Vulnerable. For the first time, he has relented his power for you to take hold of, and it feels strange to say the very least. “Do you wish for me to repeat myself?”

You sit up slowly, turning around. You knuckle at your red nose, watching him suspiciously. “I do. I may have misheard you.”

He studies you for a moment until he realizes that you are being facetious. “You heard me the first time.”

“Maybe I just want you to say it again.”

Sukuna sighs heavily. “I did not intend to make you cry, nor did I intend to make you feel as though I do not care for you. That is a foolish thought, but I understand I do not convey the depth of my feelings for you the way you wish me to convey it.”

You look dumbfounded as you stare at him in silence. Sukuna clicks his tongue, unsure of how you are going to respond.

“Quit staring at me and say something, woman.”

“I just… never thought…” you trail off, swallowing harshly. “I never thought you would ever say something like that to me.”

“You will only hear me say such things when you are- when I’ve made you unhappy,” he clarifies firmly. Your nose twitches, an involuntary movement that Sukuna catches and finds entirely too adorable. Your eyes are still damp, but your breathing has evened out.

“That’s the first,” you quip.

“Enough.”

You press your lips together, glancing at the flowers Sukuna brought you. Just then, you notice that they are your favorite.

You tell yourself you knew what you were getting into when you first started dating the king of curses, but at times you forget that Sukuna is in fact a demon, and a king at that. He does not believe in any better than what he is.

“You hurt my feelings, Sukuna,” you say softly. “Don’t you get what that means? At least for me?”

“No,” he responds honestly. “But I do see now that you have different needs. And I understand that I refuse to watch you cry if there is something I can do about it.”

You try to remain angry with him. You try to keep yourself distanced, but you can not help the way that you are softening, and Sukuna notices. A hint of a smirk curves at the corner of his lips.

“Is that all I had to say to make this better?”

“Shut the hell up,” you hiss. “It wouldn’t have killed you to apologize for the hundreds of other times we’ve fought, you know.”

“You weren’t crying the other times, woman.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you roll your eyes.

Sukuna tilts his head, placing a hand on his hip. “You’re not still upset, are you?”

“Yes,” you pout, and he catches on.

“What is it you want now, to be pampered like a spoiled brat?”

He makes the suggestion as if to offend you, but the two of you both know that he is hardly making a joke. “What I want is for you to fuck off.”

A chuckle rumbles in Sukuna’s throat as he makes his way over to you. You immediately break and screech when he yanks you forward by your ankle and loops you up into his arms before sitting down on your bed and setting you in his lap.

He looks you dead in the eye and lifts a rough thumb, swiping stubbornly at your tear stains and your damp lashes. “Crybaby,” he mutters, and you swat his hand away.

“Whatever, asshole.” You push at his chest with weak contempt and he looks at you boredly.

“You’re pitiful,” he grumbles, gripping your chin securely and guiding it to him. His blood red eyes seep into yours, gazing intently. “No more tears, do you understand?”

“Then don’t make me sad.”

“I won’t,” he tells you confidently.

A smile twitches on your lips as you look over him, completely unfamiliar with this side of the king of curses. “Can you do one more thing for me, and then I’ll maybe think about forgiving you?” you bite your lip, pressing your finger to his broad shoulder.

Sukuna grunts. “More demands, huh? I suppose you know how to take advantage of a situation. What more do you want?”

You wrap your arms over his neck. “Tell me how much you care about me,” you sing.

“Did I not just do so?”

“No, I want you to spell it out. Tell me you love me.”

“I highly tolerate you.”

“Tell me you loveeee me.”

“You are the only human being I do not frown upon.”

“Sukuna.”

“Christ, woman, you’re mine. Isn’t that enough?” he grits his teeth and you snort, patting his cheek gently.

“For now.”

“Such a pest, you know that?” he mumbles, pushing in swiftly to press his lips firmly to yours in a swift peck. “Don’t ever say I don’t care for you again. It is the most false and offensive thing I have ever heard."

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kodzuksn · 2 days ago

Note

Okay but imagine if Sukuna's fav concubine successfully runs away from court life because she's tired of the bullying and walking around eggshells with Sukuna? (bonus points if he continues to be with other concubines) She ends up working in an orphanage or something ☠️ But do you think Sukuna will look for her or not???? 🤔🤔🤔 (manifesting that it's an angst to comfort 😌😌😌🤞🤞)

“betrayal”

heian era sukuna, just a tad different from the exact request but with the same principle

ryomen sukuna x concubine!reader

Synopsis: sukuna wakes one morning to find that you, his favorite concubine, are nowhere to be found. now, he must make your absence everyone else's problem.

to sum it up: you do not understand your relationship with sukuna, and it burdens you more to endure the abuse you receive from his favoritism than to stay

WC: 5,760

Warning(s): suggestive themessss, destructive treatment of some concubines, violence, twinge of angst

“WHERE IS SHE?!”

Sukuna’s voice is a roaring boom of thunder that can be heard even from the farthest floors of his grand estate, its bass shaking the walls as servants and concubines alike tremble upon hearing it.

The quivering hearts of those nearby are not at all settled when the sharp, alarming symphony of glass shattering and furniture toppling resounds against the wooden floorboards and into the meticulously decorated wallpaper. A line of servants stand directly outside of Sukuna's quarters with sweat beading down their foreheads, serving to provide assistance if or whenever the lord calls for it.

And those who could keep far away, they avoid stepping anywhere near the vicinity of a raging Ryomen Sukuna for fear that the next thing broken will not be an antique lamp but their heads.

Sukuna's order of women, specifically, cower in their chambers, listening carefully to muffled noises so distant from them to catch even a glimpse of what may happen next. Concubines decked in floral kimonos huddle together, staring up at the ceiling with each crumble of debris that showers from overhead as a result of the large king's monstrous frame thudding about.

Uraume stands alone within Sukuna's chambers, having been called there directly, doing their best to keep a professionally calm face despite the subconscious jolt in their shoulders every time one of Sukuna's arms thrusts down into yet another expense that they will have to add to the day's damages when it.

"My lord," the king's right hand begins pensively, sneaking a hand out from its regal place within the cuffs of their kimono as the salmon haired demon resorts to furiously pacing back and forth. The white-haired servant tries their best to keep their balance with each step he takes, which could only be described as the parade of an elephant dancing around mice. "The handmaidens, butlers, and I have searched everywhere for her. There is no trace of her left in the estate."

Another loud crash shoots throughout the room, Uraume wincing yet quickly regaining their composure once Sukuna's crimson eyes snap back to them lividly. Uraume has seen their master in many forms, including anger, but this rage levels that of which they have seen displayed in him before. Sukuna's practically a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode with his arms swinging heavily at his sides, one occasionally switching to swipe over his chin, another propping over his hip temporarily. He's antsy, frighteningly so, and Uraume unfortunately, for the first time, has no clue what to do in this situation.

Mainly because this entire tantrum has been sparked by you, a lowly concubine, who has dared to betray her king's trust and loyalty to sneak off without a word. No one knows how long you have been gone, as it is the early morning, but Sukuna took notice the moment he began his day.

The entire estate is well aware of Sukuna's selective favoritism over you, though no one is exactly sure how it started. You are fairly new as well, having been with them for about half a year when the other concubines and servants have been lingering around for far longer.

When the King of Curses was first led to you, your kneeling stance with your head bowed to your hands and your beautiful purple kimono draping over your figure to the ground, he had little interest in you. Sure, your figure looked appealing on a general basis, and granted the demon had not even allowed himself five seconds to truly look at you, but he is unimpressed until your head raises and your (e/c) eyes meet his on command.

There is something in your gaze that Sukuna decided stands out against the desperate pleas whispering in those of previous concubines. Perhaps a bit of pain... disdain... a sourness that you attempt to mask with the generous warmth of your (s/c) skin and butterfly lashes, rather involuntarily, and Sukuna has to pause as he stares down at you with indifference.

Are you angry? He knows that the concubines in his care are hardly treated nicely by those bringing them to his feet, but boo hoo. You're a woman, and a concubine at that. If you're wallowing over unfair treatment, then you surely have no place in his brothel.

But then, you hold his stare for as long as he examines you. His eyes scatter over your features, taking them in silently with no care for whether you are growing nervous under him. Even if you are, however, he can not tell. Your eyes are so clear as if they have never told a lie, and you are not challenging him but giving him the opportunity to soak you in even longer.

"Stand," he suddenly, gruffly orders, and you do with such poise. You close your eyes politely and push yourself to your feet slowly, opening your eyes once more once you are on your feet.

Hell, you're tiny, much like the rest of the women compared to all of his seven foot glory, yet you do not shrink under his shadow. You stand proud, serene, as though you know you are a rare prize, and Sukuna can do nothing but make a strange noise of unitelligible affirmation under his breath before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

"Send her to my chambers in an hour. I shall see if this lowly woman can appease me."

And by the grace of his name, you do.

He doesn't even have to be inside you for longer than a second to be completely thrown by your warmth, the way your tight cunt responds to him so obediently after he's bullied one of his lengths into your drooling hole, the plush of your ass gripped lethally within his claws and drawing strands of blood as he plows into you inhumanely.

And you take it. You whine, and groan, and cry, but you beg for more and thank him for every monstrous inch he gives you. He does not even mean to go over his normal set time with his concubines of about twenty minutes when he finds he's been fucking you for hours, and your body is still with him.

You've become a babbling, tear-stained, overstimulated mess with your fingers digging into the pillow that your face is smashed in, his second throbbing cock well situated now into your bum as he thrusts relentlessly like some sort of vicious animal. You're aching, trembling and hardly speaking a lick of sense, but Sukuna only pushes you farther, for he just can not get enough.

Consequently, you slowly begin to find yourself in his bed once a week, then twice, then about three or four times... then maybe twice in a day, and hell, why not just drag you along with him as much as he possibly can all seven days of the week?

Sukuna takes an immense liking to you, so much so that he begins to allow you to speak less and less formally with him behind closed doors. He'd ridicule you for being late, and with politeness still soaked in your voice, you'd say something smart like:

"I was not aware that thirty seconds was considered late, my lord."

Sukuna knows then that he's begun to let you get away with too much, yet as he fucks you into next week as punishment, he tells himself internally that he could get used to this.

You are far more than beauty. You are class, grace, and character that the other concubines severely lack, and the next thing you know, Sukuna is ordering you to sit on his thigh upon his throne with him as he listens to citizens or servants speak.

The salmon-haired demon has attempted to entertain other selections of his concubines, simply to conduct an experiment for himself if he can still derive pleasure from the others, but after at least ten rather boring fucks with women who are not you, he concludes that you are the best of them. Of them all.

And you are so humble, taking on his attention. You walk about the halls as though you are no more special than the others, which you are, and it has the girls boiling over the top with jealousy.

The bullying starts rather quickly after your favoritism is known.

You return to your quarters to find your bedding ripped apart, or feel elbows jab into your back as you pass by that is often brushed off as an "accident" with a conniving snicker and a toss of hair, or insults splattered in ink all over the inside of your kimonos that you can not wash out.

You have never brought this to Sukuna's attention, for you felt there was no need, especially since all of you are under his care despite the feuds spreading about. Whenever you need a new kimono or sheets, you go to Uraume, who asks no questions and simply replaces the things damaged. They already know what’s going on, and though they recognize you as a favorite, they do not share anything with Sukuna either on the direct order that he should not be bothered by concubine business unless it has to do with him.

And that is what you are. A concubine, no matter how the lord favors you, how often he tells you with his fangs dipped into your neck and his fingers gripping any limb of your body that it feels as though you are made for him. No matter how delicately he has begun to grip your waist when you approach him, dull eyes glinting with lust and interest as he stares down at you and you up at him. No matter how your heart has begun it’s pitter patter each time he addresses you by your name, something he has not bothered to learn from the others but has sworn to remember by you.

You were still one of hundreds of women here to serve only for Sukuna’s pleasure. You’re a number, and while Sukuna may not see you as such any longer, the other concubines ensure that you remember your place and who you are.

You’re a secure woman, and initially you did not allow the insecurities of others to impact you, but as the cruelty and frequency of the bullying increases, it wears down your tolerance bit by bit. Nudging turns to pinching and shoving, you can no longer eat in their presence without food landing in your hair or down your clothes, and you barely sleep at night for fear that one of them will come to harm in you in your slumber as they have on many occasions prior.

And you’re tired. So very tired. Sukuna himself even begins to notice a shift in you, how dull your eyes look when you meet him and how quiet you have become. He has demanded you tell him what is wrong, which you always reply that you have not gotten enough sleep, which is not necessarily untrue, and Sukuna has no reason not to believe it because he is not aware of the world that transpires amid the concubines when they are not actively serving him.

He is no fool, though. He has an inkling that something is going on, but he holds off on saying anything. He waits, watches.

But unfortunately, he has waited too long when you decide upon yourself that you can not take this torment anymore, that you are no more worthy of Sukuna than then next peasant. That both you and him would be better if you parted, if he no longer had a woman to favor that created such profound rifts within the community.

There is no place for you, a concubine hopelessly in love with your lord, within the estate. Sukuna feeds off of your unspoken and unknowns affections, and it has created nothing but hell for you and everyone else. So you vanish.

And Sukuna is pissed.

“You mean to tell me that she just fucking left in the middle of the night and nobody saw her?” he seethes. “You did not see her?!”

Uraume takes in a deep breath. “Unfortunately not, my lord. I was in the kitchen all night making preparations for today’s courses as usual. I’m sure the other servants were asleep as well.”

“That ungrateful brat,” he addresses you as if cursing you, your name a sweet, sick poison on his tongue. “She’s got some fucking nerve.”

“It is appalling that a concubine would do such a thing as flee your court,” Uraume instantly agrees.

“After everything I’ve given her!” he grows angrier by the second, thinking back to the privilege he bestowed upon you. You dare now to make him look weak? Another fist lands into a vase that smashes it to pieces, the memory too overwhelming to mull over without feeling as though he is going to murder someone. “When I get my hands on that girl…”

“How would you like to proceed? I have men already on the hunt-“

“Send them back.”

“…Pardon, my lord?” Uraume blinks.

“You know I do not enjoy repeating myself, Uraume.”

“I apologize. I will-“

“I want every one of them back in this estate. No one is to come or go, and if they do they shall suffer directly at my hand,” Sukuna snarls. "I will look for her myself."

Uraume bows their head. “Yes, my lord.”

“And what of the concubines?” he grunts.

“What of them?”

“I find it hard to believe that they did not hear (Y/n) take her leave, nor think it a matter not to inform me of immediately.”

Sukuna stops his pacing, standing heavily in the middle of the room as he glares to the side now in thought.

“It would be wise to inform you that when I asked them about her disappearance before coming here, they all behaved as though they were unsure of what was going on,” Uraume speaks with a hint of disdain, and Sukuna’s eyes darken.

Slowly, it pieces together that they have something to do with this.

“All of them in the throne room. Now.”

Petrified faces line before Sukuna as he uncharacteristically stands before his throne rather than sits, his personal arm candy nowhere to be found and frankly making him all the more uneased. Uraume, who has rounded up the women, stands to the side as they all kneel in rows on the floor, shivering with fear.

"Someone start talking," Sukuna's voice grumbles out, so menacingly, so deep that it shakes the women's cores. Those who bully you have lost any lick of confidence they found in your wake as they keep their widened eyes to the floor, mouths clamped shut, paralyzed with fear. "Do not play dumb with me. I know you all know exactly what I am referring to."

Silence filters the air, the concubines unsure of how to proceed or what to say.

"Where is she?"

The question ehcoes again, and "she" falls like a boulder crushing to the earth. You are so prized that Sukuna does not even need to address you by your name for everyone to know who he is talking about. It makes their blood boil, to be petrified on behalf of your absence. What makes you so special anyway?

"Your lord has asked you a question," Uraume adds firmly, fueling the tension within the room. "I suggest one of you answers it."

"Must I begin punishing you one by one until you learn to use your mouths and speak when I ask you to?" Sukuna fumes when he is still met with nothing, and this threat finally encourages on concubine to twitch her head slightly then speak.

A brunette girl. One of your abusers.

"We do not know where (Y/n) is, Lord Sukuna," she says with a trembling voice, head still bowed. "We... we woke, and she was gone-"

"And yet no one said a word until I took notice, and Uraume in turn."

She whimpers. "We did not think to-"

"Silence." She stops, for Sukuna can read rather clearly through her facade. He can read the energy of the entire room, in fact. It does not seem that any one of these women cares very much about your whereabouts or what has happened to you, almost as though they wanted you go in the first place. "You," he gestures to a short haired woman, who takes the risk of peeking upward to ensure that Sukuna is addressing her, for somehow she just knew.

She quickly looks back down. "Yes, Lord Sukuna?"

"Tell me why (Y/n) ran away."

She gulps, eyes scattering over the floor as she conjures up a response. "I do not know, my Lord."

The king's eyes slim, one set of burly arms crossed over his chest. His patience, at this point, is non-existent. He needs to know where you are. He needs to find you know, and so help anyone who got in his way.

"Liar," he says.

With the flick of his wrist, a slicing motion resounds through the air followed by a pitched scream of agony. The victim stares down in hair as her hands fly from her wrists within an instant, sprouting blood from her wrists and pooling over the floor. The concubines grow aware of the action, having no choice but to look up upon hearing such a sound and panic at the sight of blood and the woman now stripped of her hands.

"Now, let me make myself perfectly clear," Sukuna announces over the rise of cries throughout the room. Uraume closes their eyes with a deep sigh, watching everything unfold. "The next one of you who dares to lie to my face will lose more than just her hands. Understood?"

Warbled sobs of understanding and nods flutter about the room while short haired woman struggles to sit up, lifting her trembling limbs to her teary eyes with quivering parted lips of shock. It does not take long before she is passing out, and Sukuna rolls his eyes.

"Uraume, get her out of here."

Once the wounded woman is removed from the environment, a pool of blood left in her spot and trailing behind her, the concubines double down into sniveling submission.

"Why did (Y/n) leave?" he repeats.

Suddenly, overlapping voices jump out with their own explanations in desperate attempts to plead their cases. Sukuna's eye twitches as he listens on for only a few seconds before shutting it down.

"I do not recall telling you all to ramble ontop of each other. Speak one at a fucking time. Tch. You should know better than that."

The room dips into instant silence, followed by one meek voice that speaks out. “S-She never said anything about leaving,” she shivers.

"Of course she didn't, that would have defeated the purpose of sneaking away," Sukuna growls. "Clearly, however, something has transpired within this group to encourage her to leave, am I mistaken?"

"Yes, my lord. I'm sure, my lord," she is quick to go along, for she is not one of your bullies and Sukuna can tell by the look on her face and the way she obliviously rambles on. "Perhaps... she felt unwelcome...?"

And oh, there it is. The icing on the cake, the very piece that sets those guilty for your absence into a momentary state of shock and solidifies Sukuna's assumptions.

"Unwelcome?" he cocks a brow, reciting the word slowly. "By who."

The crimson eyed king's eyes do not miss the way the concubine flashes a glance over to the brunette from earlier swiftly, only to look back down and swallow hard.

With a slow tilt of his head, Sukuna follows her brief line of sight with a hum. While he may not know just exactly what has been transpiring between you and some of these women, he knows that he has identified one involved. One who likely pushed you to run off so disrespectfully.

Sukuna does not know what it is about you that has him driven onto the brink of insanity due to your absence. He knows its not just because of sex, because he can find sex anywhere. He's surrounded by women who provide those services. There's something about you specifically though that makes fucking feel less of a habit, a simple release for pleasure and more so a desire, a thrill, a need. A need with you.

It's your company that he has grown so accostumed to, his frequent access to you, and to be stripped of it so suddenly is a crime in itself. You can not deprive the King of Curses of the very thing you were hired to do. You can not just leave and expect him not to scrounge and burn every corner of this earth until he finds you and punishes you for putting him through the trouble of searching for you. You're a brat. A pain, and Sukuna somehow needs you around, so when he looks the brunette woman dead in the eye, he knows he has to kill her.

Sukuna leaves the concubines traumatized when he treks out to look for you on his own, scorching earth, terrorizing villagers, destroying home after home in search for you and somehow you still are not within his grasp.

Citizens retreat scramble about and retreat to safety, trembling in fear as your name rings out through the air like a battle cry, flame flittering into the call as though hell itself is beckoning you. There is no building that Sukuna does not plan to visit, no alleyway unsearched, no creak unexplored, and just when the demon feels he is prepared to slaughter a nation, you hear a distant cry of your name from afar.

A shiver licks its way down your spine and you jump, whipping your head around.

"(Y/n)?" a gentle, present woman's voice calls from behind you. "That is your name, isn't it?"

Your brows draw together and a pit develops in your stomach, eyes to the door of the orphanage you took shelter in miles away from Sukuna's estate. "...Yes," you say slowly, mind distracted.

"Strange. I think I just heard someone calling you from somewhere."

You don't know why you follow the voice.

You left for a reason. You'd been gone since the middle of the night, and you had promised not to return, but you follow his voice anyway as though it beckons you. You always knew better than to ignore the King of Curse's when he calls you, and you can't say that you have prepared to outgrow the habit. Not within the mere hours you have been absent.

The real reason you go back, you want to tell yourself, is to prevent Sukuna from disturbing the peace of the shelter you sought in confidence. You know that if you heard him from where you were staying, he would have continued to make his way further and further down until he found you, and you were not fond of the idea of him tormenting innocent women and children for your sake.

And while you expected to be greeted by an irritated Sukuna, you did not expect the scene that greets you when you round a street corner blocks down during your walk.

You halt in your tracks, heat greeting your skin. Your eyes go wide, your face falls, and before you lay a street aglow with the aftermath of what looks like the tosses of flame and fire. Ash flitters into the sky, windows of businesses are broken, and the entirety of the brick street is empty save for debris and dying flames. It looks as though some kind of bomb or explosion went off and those within the vicinity either fled or got caught in the attack.

Your hands go to your mouth as you study the scene in shock, your skin going cold despite the heat.

You are too entrapped with your shock to notice the shadow that envelopes you from behind when it first arrives. Its eerily quiet, save for the crackle of lingering fire ahead, and you go to take a step back in fear when you hit something hard.

You tense completely, pupils shrinking and gaze unfocusing. You recognize the feeling, the smell, the heat. You recognize the sheer unfathomable mass towering over you without having to turn around, the raw surge of evil that potrudes and surrounds you, caging you in normally so enticingly, but this time so terrifyingly.

You swipe your tongue over your lip anxiously, your heartbeat rapidly hammering into your chest. You shouldn't turn around. You shouldn't look up. You know what will happen, but you can't help yourself. You can not fight the urge as you slowly twist your head around and tilt your chin upward to meet the glowing pairs of red eyes that you'd grown to adore searing down at you from so far above.

You breathe heavily, caught in the lock of Sukuna's wild glare. He appears almost feral with anger to you, some sort of sick enraged smirk twisting onto his face that is anything but kind. You don't say a word as the street burns behind you and your hands stick stiffly to your sides.

"Care to explain what the hell you are doing?"

You know that tone of voice so well by now. It is monotone and low, almost inaudible with its bass yet it carries so crisply. It comes of as calm, but the underlying emotion is anything but. He is pissed, if that is not clear enough from his face and stature, and if you were anyone else you think you'd be dead, but Sukuna's values his possessions and his means of true pleasure far too much. He would do something much worse to you than death. He would be sure of it.

"Mm? Can't talk?" he frowns when you don't answer. You flinch when a hand comes to clasp over your cheeks and squish, sharp nails prodding into your skin as Sukuna guides your body to face him completely. Instinctively, you grab his marked wrist out of surprise. His second pair of eyes look down at the motion, the first still blazing on you. "You think you can touch me without permission after what you've done?"

"Sukuna," you whisper, staring straight into his eyes as your hand slips away. The lord always enjoyed that about you, how you stared directly into him instead of avoiding. Even now, your eyes are mesmorizing pools of uncertainty and alarm as you look at him. "What did you do?"

"Don't ask me that foolishness," he sneers. "You left behind my back, and you have lost the privilege of addressing me as anything but my proper title."

You falter slightly. "I... I could not stay."

"You do not have the power to make that decision."

"It's my decision to make. It's my life."

"You serve me. My life," Sukuna states firmly and you grimace, brows angling in discomfort as he reminds you of your place, of why you left. "I have clearly given you too much freedom if you believe this nonsense."

You feel your heart jolt with sadness, your face hardening as he holds you still. You should know your place by now, truly, but you don't appreciate how you are still treated as though you are an object of possession when your life has been turned to hell by those who are jealous of your favoritism. It's unfair, to love without the benefits, to be placed on a pedestal with no regard for the ramifications nor how it may feel for your privileges to be bestowed upon you without any promise of anything more.

It pains you to be in this position so hopelessly, and you wished to flee it but Sukuna of course refuses to allow such a thing to happen.

"What if I don't want to be your concubine anymore?" you say in a hushed voice. Sukuna's eyes flicker with subtle surprise, and for a moment you think you have caught him off guard.

"You are dramatic," he elects to say. "You are not telling me something, and you choose to take it out on me."

"If I'm just a concubine, then there's no need for me to tell you everything I think, is there?" you ask bitterly.

Sukuna's brows tilt downward slightly, and slowly he releases his grip of your face. You inhale sharply when he does, stumbling slightly and blinking harshly. "Is that what this is truly about?"

You clench your jaw. "What?"

"Wishing to be more than a concubine instead of not being one at all?" he proposes, and you feel yourself freeze. "And here I was made to believe it was solely because of the others."

"...W-What do you mean?"

"You never said anything about how the other women treated you."

You stare at him blankly as you let his comment sit for a moment, a far off look catching your eye. "There was nothing to tell."

"That is not true."

"There was nothing to tell you- you don't care about what happens with the concubines."

"You are not just another concubine."

You furrow your brows and part your lips. "I don't understand you. You want my forced subservience to you and you continue to entertain the others, but you don't think I'm like the rest of them?"

"If you believe that the way I treat you is how I treat the others, then you are much stupider than I previously believed."

"And if you cared to think of me as more than them, you would have noticed how the special treatment does more harm to me than good!"

"You can not complain because you chose to suffer in silence. All you had to do was tell me, and you still will not explain what has happened."

"Because I don't want to! I don't want to talk about it! It's humiliating, and I-" you suck in a breath of air. "I can't keep reliving being tortured for your carelessness-"

"I disposed of them."

You pause. "You- what? Disposed of what?"

"Of the women who harmed you. I assume that is what has been happening. They were jealous of you and pushed you out and treated you poorly."

You gape at him, utterly stunned. "You- you don't even know who-"

"Others confessed."

"...And you killed them?"

"They drove you away. It was a fit punishment."

You can no longer find the words, for you had not expected Sukuna to do such a thing for you. You believed his behavior around you to be temporary engagement, a fling. You believed that he would hardly care if you truly lived or died as long as you pleased him, and you certainly did not believe that he would go such lengths for your sake.

You are rattled by the mentions of their deaths, yes, but more so shocked by what Sukuna's disposal of them means for you... that he must truly value you above the others.

Sukuna raises a brow. "Are you truly surprised?"

"...Sukuna, all I've been to you is..." you trail off slowly as his gaze hypnotizes you, and you stutter over an exhale. "What am I doing with you? What am I to you? You have concubines still, and I'm not- I'm just-"

"You think too much." The salmon haired demon wraps a hand around your wrist while another finds your waist to tug you along with him. You trip into motion as you trail beside his heavy strides, watching him baffled.

"Wait, my lord, wait-" you urge, and he shockingly does. He eyes you out of the corners of his eyes and slows to a stop. "I truly don't understand. Why would you do that for me? What do you want me to be?"

Sukuna looks down at you wordlessly, taking in every crease of your face. He had been so angry, and now that he has found you, now that he sees you, now that he has you, his mind is at ease. He knows what humans label this feeling, and he is well assured that he is far beyond the useless ideal, but irritatingly he feels it there when he looks at you. He felt it at the thought of anyone treating you poorly, and he felt it the moment he lay eyes on you.

And you look terribly confused standing with his arm wrapped around you and your glossed lips pressed into a soft frown. The fire still burns behind you from a distance, and there is still something unsaid that Sukuna can tell you are hiding, but perhaps he does not want to know. Perhaps he needs to keep that barrier.

Even so, he wants you to remain his. You belong to him, with him as more. He doesn't know as what yet, but just knows that you are more, and that you should never dare to pull a stunt like the one you just did.

You jerk your head back gently when Sukuna turns into you and ducks down, meeting you as eye to eye as he possibly can from his height. His face hovers over yours and you watch him with a twisted, tormented, longing gaze, and you are so pathetic he craves it.

He presses into you without purpose, catching your lips in his and you jump against him, for he has only ever kissed you in intimate spaces and the feeling in such a setting is so foreign but your skin is tingling and your heart is thumping. Sukuna pushes in hard, keeping a set of lidded eyes open as yours slide closed and you allow him to take you within his harsh, swift kiss.

He pulls away fast, a soft smack of parting lips, and hovers over you afterward so closely. You can feel your face burning as your lashes flutter open and you look back up at him with shiny eyes. Sukuna catches the gaze. He catches what it means, and he sighs.

"We are returning now," he orders gruffly, standing up straight. "We will further discuss your arrangements at the estate, but as of today, you are no longer a concubine."

Your mind is still fuzzy from the kiss, therefore you do not completely comprehend his declaration. "I'm... not?"

"You will be under my direct surveillance at all times. Try to sneak away again, and I will be sure you are unable to walk for weeks. And do not think this will go unpunished."

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kodzuksn · 2 days ago

Text

tw: explicit content. sukuna/reader. female!reader, heiain era sukuna. reader is a former courtesan (and not a fancy one, either). sukuna doesn't give a fuck.

It's not uncommon for Sukuna to summon you to his throne room to pleasure him. What is uncommon is for the throne room to be empty when he does.

Today is, unsurprisingly, no different.

Sukuna had ordered you on your knees at his feet, where Uruame stood aside you, plain-faced.

He watches, bored, resting his cheek on his knuckle as foolish lords and sorcerers alike come to him with entreaties for aid, for mercy, for whatever else.

"My lord," one curse user intones, with far too much confidence, "Is that the whore?"

Sukuna tilts his head to the side. You're allowed to glance up at his face while you suck him - he likes it when you do.

Right now, he looks utterly bored.

"This is my whore," He drawls. "Unless you're suggesting I would share?"

There's murmurs, but no one dares answer him. It's not your concern either way.

You gaze up at him, wide eyed. Taking him all the way to the root, stretching so your throat is straight for him, suppressing the urge to gag as you swallow down his cock.

Blinking up at him cutely. Swallowing around his throbbing cock. Am I doing a good job, Su-ku-na~?

Sukuna's lips twist in what other people would call a sneer, but you know the crinkle of his lower set of eyes, the amusement bubbling forth as he snickers menacingly.

(You can also tell that his cock is twitching, ready to blow. Come to think of it, that is quite the advantage, isn't it?(

The curses and curse-users in the room, though, they cower from it. You know to lean into the hand in your hair that pushes you further onto his cock.

A noise of disgust in the background. Feet shuffling, as if impatient.

Let them watch. Let them think what they want, call you what you want.

There's only one person in the room who matters, and his cock is in your mouth. You're a thousand times safer than any of them, even if they don't know it.

His load is hot and salty and a little gross, if you're being honest.

"My lord, are you quite done with that whore already? We've important matters to disgust."

But the utter disdain on his face, the narrowing of red eyes onto the peons before him, the disgust and sensation of his cursed energy -

The sound of his curse slicing through the air. Severing head from body. Gasps and shuffled and bloodied, crunching noises.

Sukuna does it all with one hand petting gently over your head. He doesn't even move, doesn't get up.

He's bitter on your tongue. But you've never felt more safe.

And the power. The knowledge that the most dangerous man in the world would stroke your hair while he slaughtered men too noble for a whore like you.

That is, unmistakably, the sweetest you've ever had.

What is surprising is that the man who visits you later is not Sukuna.

Rather, it's one of the lords who you'd caught lurking silently in the banquet hall.

He wants to know how to earn Sukuna's favor.

"Lord Sukuna is not a difficult man to understand," you say with an indulgent smile. "If you are going to approach him, it should be to offer him something. Otherwise, your life lasts only as long as it amuses him."

This lord is wise, you think, because he pauses a moment before he speaks. "And what does Lord Sukuna desire?"

You shrug. "He likes power, he likes knowledge. I know he has a cursed tool or two that he favors."

Eyes narrowing at you. "What else?" A demanding tone.

"He is a man like any other. You could offer him fine food or drink, but Uruame does that already." You give him a smirk. "You could always offer him entertainment. I do well enough. Would you like to know his favorite positions?"

And at last, the leashed disdain breaks loose, a snarl on the lord's pretty face, "You whore," He raises a hand, "You dare suggest-"

In an instant you drop into the lowest possible bow, head pressed to the floor.

It spares you from the spray of blood that bisects the lord's chest cavity. From what you know of Sukuna, perhaps it would have slashed you, too, had you not knelt in time.

There's silence, for a moment. Maybe he's considering wasting a second slash on you after all.

"What did he want?"

"Your favor, my lord," You answer without hesitation, "He thought I might know a way for him to earn it."

"Hmn." A grunt, half-annoyed, half-mocking; your sign that he is not upset, and you may raise your head to confirm his expression.

There's a light twitch on his lips. "And he thought he might find my favor in the private quarters of my personal possession?"

You shrug. "Most men are not particularly attached to their whores."

"Hmph." The scoff is his dismissal of the topic. When he turns to leave, you know to follow.

It's a short stroll until you reach the courtyard, a well-curated garden. Sukuna strides through it, wordlessly, a giant out of place amongst flowers.

Ever faithfully, you trail behind him. All the way to a great tree at the edge of a path, one he leans back against.

You stand there, waiting.

"What do you want?"

It's not a question you ever expected to hear from him. "What do I want... right now?"

"Hmph," Sukuna crosses his arms, still looking over on the garden. "What do you want from me? You have my favor. Unlike them."

In truth, you have no great desires. You're fed, sheltered. You can buy things you want. All you have to do is please a single man, a thousand times easier than being in a brothel. He's a better lover than most men you'd encountered.

There's not much more you could ask for - which is good. Sukuna has a marked tendency to kill people who ask him for things.

But he's told you to, now. And you've never denied him.

"If I should be so daring, my lord," You say with a low hum, "When you no longer have any use of me, I would like to be dismissed instead of disposed of."

There's a pause. A stillness to him. Cold.

"When I no longer have use of you? When do you expect that to be?" HIs voice is strange in a way you haven't known before.

"I don't know. Of course I'll do all I can before then, but I've seen many women in my time at the brothel. We all lose our beauty and our charm eventually."

Sukuna turns to you. He does not come any closer. Four eyes stare at you, piercing.

"You think I keep you around because you're pretty? I couldn't care less what you look like. I keep you around because you're amusing, and you please me." He snorts, pushing himself off the tree.

You don't know what to say to that. "...I'm glad you enjoy my services?"

"You must be, if all you want is to retire peacefully." Sukuna begins walking away. "Make no mistake, woman. If you want to leave, do it. I don't need you."

You have to hurry to keep up with his long strides. But you catch a glimpse on his face, just a dusting -

"Hurry up."

With a smile, you trail him - all the way to his bedroom.

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kodzuksn · 2 days ago

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Sukuna x Concubine! Reader

TW: Reader is a virgin, size difference

Soft and gentle are words that could never be used for Sukuna, yet it was how he was described when he was around you. His large, rough hands only stroked and caressed you, treating you as if you were something fragile and to be cherished, instead of a body he would defile. And defile you, he never did. You were still as pure as the day you were born, the only intimacy you'd ever had with your leige being chaste kisses upon your lips or his tongue lapping away between your legs. Despite his longing for your body, he couldn't bring himself to split you open with his cock.

You were tiny. Little one, he called you. A name that suited you well. Your height pales in comparison to him, but you still stand beside his side joyfully. While he doesn't use you for his nightly activities, he always wants you next to him, saying your ditzy demeanor is entertaining. You sit on his lap as he looks disinterested on his throne, kicking your legs cutely and humming songs you know he likes. An arm will be wrapped around your waist, squeezing you tightly and holding you in place.

“Comfortable?” He'll ask and you respond with an enthusiastic nod. His other hand will reach up, pressing a large thumb against your mouth and spreading your lips open, “Have you lost your voice? I want you to speak.”

“Oh!” You exclaim, words being slightly muffled by the finger, “I'm very comfortable, sir.”

Even though you said and did so little while sitting in his lap, his face still flushes slightly. Something that most wouldn't notice, but you did. A blush upon his cheek and his hand squeezing your waist just a little tighter, pulling you closer into his chest. His loose fitting kimono did little to hide the growing erections you felt against your backside, but he said nothing of it. He couldn't take you. Not when he was afraid of breaking you. So he silently rutted his hips against your ass, any friction of your body against his cock being enough for him now.

“Shall…shall I give you some privacy…sir?” you questioned quietly. You were aware of what to do when he got like this, rutting himself against you like an animal in heat. Typically when he got like that, you could feel his nails digging into the fat of your hips, physically restraining himself from taking you then and there.

“No,” he grumbled roughly into the crook of your neck. His hips grinding faster against your ass, practically bouncing you in his lap, “Just stay put. Just like that.”

You could feel the heat of his cock against your ass, whimpering sweetly in a way that only made him grip you a little tighter. You could feel him starting to undress himself behind you. Pulling at his obi until his kimono fell open, and quickly raising the hem of yours as well, exposing your clothed ass to him. Sukuna hissed air in through his teeth, pressing his leaking tips against your behind once more.

“Lord Sukuna, Sir. You're squeezing me a bit too tight,” you whined in reference to that hand that seemed to be holding you even tighter now.

“Hush, Little One,” he growled, hips starting to stutter against yours, “I'm almost there.”

His rough words were followed by a grunt, the feeling of his cock twitching, and his hot cum spilling onto your panties, seeping down your ass. He still held your hips, a bit gentler now. His breathing is labored, but softer now, chest rising and falling in a dizzing rhythm. As a praise for your good work, his large hand nestled itself into your hair, petting you in that sweet way he always did.

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kodzuksn · 3 days ago

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OBSESSED ★

⭐︎ PAIRING miya atsumu x fem! reader

⭐︎ WARNINGS none

⭐︎ TAGS clingy atsumu, high school au, he literally doesn’t care abt anyone but you, that one scene in Given

IN WHICH Miya Atsumu doesn’t have eyes for anybody but you, and some girls in his class seem to forget that

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒/𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

IT WAS A well known fact how childish Miya Atsumu was. He was simple, wearing his expressions on his sleeve, and never afraid to voice his opinion. So, when you he had fallen head over heels for you, he didn’t make an effort to hide it at all.

It had taken a couple weeks for you to finally let him in, spending your lunches with him instead of your friends, and waiting for his volleyball practice to end so he can walk you home.

He always seemed like the happiest man in the world when he was with you, eyes filled with stars and constantly smiling from ear to ear. Despite him being very confident all the time, he was a shy mess when he had finally confessed his feelings to you.

You had accepted his confession with a warm smile, and he looked at you like you had just offered him the world.

It was no secret that the two of you were dating. In fact, Atsumu would go around parading about the fact that he was your boyfriend. Being in a different class was often difficult, but you still managed with the little, precious time you had with him.

Why was it difficult? Well, other than the fact that Atsumu was tall, broad, a regular in the volleyball team that regularly made it to nationals, he was insanely attractive.

You knew of the girls that liked him, wether it was just because he was cute, or because they were his fan, but those girls were usually respectful, often minding their own business and keeping a distance.

You weren’t sure if the girls in his class knew he had a girlfriend or not, or if they just didn’t care, because when you went to his class during lunch break to pick him up, you saw three girls crowding his desk.

“Atsumu?” One of the girls called, clutching her textbooks to her chest. His head was in his arms on the desk, probably taking a nap, or trying to. Another girl poked his back.

“Wake up, Atsumu! They’re playing volleyball in the gym.” She tried baiting, leaning down to meet his level. He didn’t budge, only groaning in annoyance and burying his head into his arms further.

The third girl sighed. “Oh, come on, Atsumu. You love volleyball. Your brother’s there, too.” Your eyes narrowed at the sight. There were too many girls talking to him, too many girls calling his name, and too many girls around him.

An ugly feelings of jealousy and irritation bubbled deep in your chest. Suna, who was sitting by Atsumu and watching the girls, laughed at their futile attempts. “It’s no use. He’s not waking up.” He chuckled, obviously amused. The girls scowled at his words.

Your hands balled into fists, gripping on your lunchbox tightly. “Atsumu!” You had called from the doorway, flustered.

You felt a strange feeling of pleasure wash over your irritation when he sat straight up, head snapping towards the direction of your voice. The girls all took a step back, surprised at his sudden consciousness. “(Name)!” He smiled, immediately standing up and looking fully awake.

He made his way towards you, and if he were a dog, his tail would be wagging wildly. You smiled in satisfaction as Atsumu immediately took your hand in his, grinning down at you. “Let’s go.” He hummed, pulling you out of the classroom and towards your usual eating spot.

Suna smirked at the sight of the three girls looking slightly defeated and embarrassed. “Well, except for her.” He said out of spite, leaving the girls with red faces.

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kodzuksn · 3 days ago

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KENMA KOZUME X FEM! READER

WHEN THE NEKOMA TEAM FIND OUT ABOUT YOUR RELATIONSHIP

(2.4K words, fluff)

Kenma wasn’t the type of guy to project that he was in a relationship, he’d much prefer it to be…secretive? If that’s what you’d call it.

Of course he wants to show off his partner, posting them on his socials, holding their hand in public etc…

But being the type of guy Kenma is he was too much afraid to do that and with his volleyball teammates constantly teasing him for every little thing he does, he felt that if he ever got into a relationship he'd vow that they’d never find out.

So when he got close to the girl in his class (you) who’d always come up to him and start to make a conversation despite his dry responses too busy focused on the game console in his hand, he came to a genuine realisation that he liked you. That freaked him out a little, he’d never had feelings for anyone before so he didn’t know what to do.

But eventually one thing led to another and Kenma had the guts to ask you out and your relationship with him bloomed from there.

You knew very well Kenma was the type of guy who kept himself and his life private, you knew that when getting into a relationship with him. But it honestly didn’t bother you, you preferred it that way.

You wouldn’t have all your friends teasing you and trying to mess up the relationship you had together and half the school gossiping about you both. So when Kenma subtly hinted he’d like to keep your relationship somewhat private you happily obliged.

You’d been going out for almost 3 months now and had still managed to keep your relationship with him a secret.

Both of your friends simply thought you were just good classmates, of course you’d get teased by your friends occasionally saying ‘how cute’ you looked together but you shrugged it off.

“Ken you have to go to volleyball practice you’re already 5 minutes late…” you sighed at your boyfriend tucking some of his hair behind his ear, as you were led against the wall outside the sports hall his body facing you, almost cornering you so you couldn’t escape.

You were slightly hidden away so nobody could see you tucked at the side of the sports hall building outside.

“But m’tired I just wanna go home…cuddle with you n stuff” your boyfriend muttered now burying his face in the crook of your neck whilst you combed your fingers through his hair getting rid of any small knots at the end.

“And we can…after your practice mkay? you’ve got some important games comin up, your teammates need you” you tried to convince him.

“No they don’t-“

“Kenma Kozume you’re one of the most valued and important members on that team please shut up” you interrupted him frowning.

“Wow full name you must be annoyed” he scoffed still buried into your neck.

“Ken please? You know Kuroo will eventually come out to find you so just give up…and what if he sees us together hm?”

“…Fine…but…I want a kiss” he pulled his head out from your neck now looking at you slightly frowning.

You sighed leaning in to lock lips with him your arms slowly finding their way around his neck and you close the space between you both, Kenma groans deepening the kiss as his hands grip your hips bringing your body so it pressed against his.

Kenma gently pressed you against the wall protecting the back of your head with his hand. Your sweet lips continued to press against him with a light hum, all of Kenma’s frustration going into that one kiss his groans getting louder.

You pulled away feeling yourself losing oxygen a slight pout formed Kenma’s lips as he tried to connect your lips again. As he was declined by the finger on his lips he groaned.

“Please?”

“No go to practice”

“Fine…you’ll be waiting in the library for me right?…”

“As always..” as you gently took the games console out his hands and pushed him to the gym door.

As Kenma entered the gym he of course got another scolding from Kuroo and a full interrogation.

“Since you’re late you’ll have to help Lev with his attacks” Kuroo huffs pointing to the boy doing his warm-ups with a pout since he was a minute or two late and was punished with doing some diving drills.

“Do I real-“

“Yes…now go”

Kenma sighed making his way to Lev a volleyball tightly gripped in his hand, he wasn’t ready to go through hours of training with a player who could barely play.

But it was his fault for spending all his time with you behind the gym, part of him regretted it now knowing he had to practice with Lev but spending time with you was worth anything.

The pair practiced their attacks with Kenma constantly having to correct Lev on his technique, but the younger boys mind was occupied with this one question.

“Kenma…do you have a girlfriend?” Lev questioned his upper classmate, his voice carried the gymnasium with the others sparing the two a glance and shrugging Lev’s question off as a joke.

Kenma Kozume? The quiet setter? A girlfriend?…yeah Lev was just being his stupid self getting on Kenmas nerves, but in that moment the setters heart dropped.

“no…just work on another attack…” he replied trying to act all nonchalant but holy shit his heart was racing praying he would take the hint and drop the subject.

“Then who was that girl you were kissing at the side of the gymnasium? that’s why you were late right..?” the younger boy frowned with confusion obviously not letting the subject go.

The entire room went silent.

Kenma swore his soul left his body. His hands stiffened around the volleyball, and for a moment, he debated launching it at Lev’s head just to shut him up.

Kuroo, who had been casually stretching, suddenly straightened up, his sharp eyes locking onto Kenma with newfound interest. “Wait. What?” he asked, his voice teetering between amusement and disbelief.

Yaku, who had been taking a sip of water, nearly choked. Kai’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Even Inuoka stopped mid-jump serve to turn and stare.

Kenma’s fingers twitched. He had to think fast. “Lev,” he muttered, keeping his voice as bored as possible, “you really should get your eyes checked. I wasn’t kissing anyone.”

Lev’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh? But I saw—”

“You didn’t see anything,” Kenma interrupted quickly, giving Lev a sharp, warning glance. If Lev had an ounce of self-preservation, he’d drop it.

But, of course, Lev didn’t.

“But she was—”

“Lev.” Kenma’s voice dropped lower, unamused. “Drop it.”

Lev blinked, mouth slightly agape, clearly trying to piece together if he was imagining things or if Kenma was just that determined to keep it a secret. Kuroo, on the other hand, smirked, now walking over and slinging an arm over Kenma’s shoulders.

“Kenma,” he drawled, eyes gleaming with mischief. “My dearest childhood friend. Are you hiding something from us?”

Kenma exhaled through his nose. He knew that look. Kuroo was going to be insufferable about this.

“No.”

Kuroo gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Kenma! Lying? To me? This is a historic moment.”

“Go away.”

“But Lev saw—”

“He saw wrong.”

“I dunno, Kenma,” Yaku chimed in, crossing his arms. “Lev might be an airhead, but I doubt he’d make up something that specific.”

Kenma shot Lev a glare, and the younger boy flinched, finally realizing the mess he created. “Uh… Maybe it wasn’t Kenma?” Lev tried weakly. “Maybe it was someone else who looked like him?”

“Wow, Lev, great save,” Inuoka snorted.

Kuroo grinned. “Don’t worry, Kenma. If you’ve got a girlfriend, we’ll find out eventually.”

Kenma rolled his eyes, but inside, his brain was scrambling. He needed to be more careful. If even Lev managed to catch him slipping, then it was only a matter of time before Kuroo or someone else found out.

He sighed, rubbing his temple. Practice was going to be hell after this.

And the worst part? He still had to explain to you that you’d been seen.

After what felt like the longest practice of his life, Kenma trudged toward the locker room, mind buzzing. The team had dropped the subject—at least for now—but Kuroo’s knowing smirk and Yaku’s occasional side-eyes made it clear they weren’t letting this go anytime soon.

Kenma sighed, running a hand through his hair. This was exactly why he didn’t want anyone knowing about your relationship. The teasing, the interrogation—it was exhausting. And Kuroo? He’d turn it into a whole investigation.

He needed to warn you.

After quickly changing out of his practice gear, Kenma grabbed his bag and headed straight for the library. He knew you’d be waiting, probably curled up in a chair, nose buried in a book or scrolling on your phone.

The thought of seeing you calmed him slightly, but the moment he stepped inside and spotted you, that ease was replaced by guilt.

You looked up from your book, smiling softly as he approached. “Hey, Ken.”

He slumped into the seat across from you, letting his head drop onto the table with a thud.

You blinked. “Rough practice?”

“Worse,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “Lev saw us.”

You froze. “Saw… us?”

Kenma lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, his usual sleepy expression replaced with something more serious. “Kissing. Outside the gym. He told everyone.”

Your stomach dropped. “Oh.”

Kenma sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. “I denied it. Told him he saw wrong. But Kuroo’s suspicious. And if Kuroo’s suspicious, I’m doomed.”

You sighed, closing your book and leaning forward on the table. “Okay, so… worst case scenario, they find out.”

Kenma groaned. “Exactly. They’ll never shut up about it.”

You tilted your head, smiling playfully. “Is that really so bad?”

“Yes,” he deadpanned.

You laughed softly. “Ken, it’s not the end of the world.”

“To you.” He slouched further in his seat. “You don’t have to deal with them every day.”

You reached across the table, gently taking his hand. “Okay, so what do you want to do? Keep pretending we’re just classmates? Or just… let them figure it out?”

Kenma stared at your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles absentmindedly. He didn’t want to keep lying. But he also didn’t want to deal with the teasing.

But when he looked up at you, eyes warm and patient, he knew he didn’t care as much as he thought.

“…I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just don’t want them annoying you about it.”

You smiled. “I can handle it.”

Kenma exhaled slowly, squeezing your hand. “Then… maybe I’ll stop hiding it so much.”

And just like that, the weight on his shoulders felt a little lighter.

The Next Day

Kenma thought maybe—maybe—he could skate by without the topic coming up again. Maybe Lev had already forgotten, and maybe Kuroo would get distracted by something else.

He was wrong.

The moment he stepped into the gym for practice, Kuroo was on him like a hunter sniffing out prey.

“Kenmaaaaa,” Kuroo cooed, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Did you sleep well last night? Thinking about your mystery girl?”

Kenma groaned, already regretting every life choice that led him here. “I’m leaving.”

Kuroo tightened his grip, dragging him back. “Oh, no you don’t. We need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Yaku crossed his arms, smirking. “So you weren’t making out behind the gym?”

Kenma’s eye twitched. “It wasn’t making out.”

“So there was kissing!” Kuroo gasped dramatically.

Kenma froze.

Shit.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

The gym erupted.

“I knew it!” Inuoka cheered.

“Kenma has a girlfriend?!” Yamamoto shouted, looking personally offended that he hadn’t figured it out first.

Kai chuckled, shaking his head. “Good for you, Kenma.”

Lev beamed, bouncing excitedly. “So I was right!”

Kenma pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate all of you.”

Kuroo grinned like a cat who just caught a mouse. “So… who is she?”

“None of your business.”

“Oh, c’mon, Kenma! You can’t just drop that on us and not give details!”

Kenma sighed, knowing there was no escape. “We’ve been dating for a few months,” he admitted. “That’s all you’re getting.”

“A few months?!” Yamamoto practically choked. “How did no one notice?!”

Kenma shrugged. “Because I didn’t want you to.”

“Man, you’re good,” Kuroo admitted, impressed. “But now that we do know…” He smirked. “We have to meet her.”

Kenma tensed. “No.”

Kuroo grinned wider. “Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll quit volleyball.”

“You won’t.”

Kenma scowled. He really, really didn’t want to subject you to this level of chaos.

But Kuroo wasn’t letting it go.

And unfortunately, that meant his secret relationship?

Not so secret anymore.

A Few Days Later

Kenma managed to avoid giving his teammates any details for three whole days. He dodged questions, ignored teasing remarks, and physically walked away whenever Kuroo got that look in his eyes.

But he knew it wouldn’t last.

So when Kuroo suddenly stopped pestering him at practice, Kenma’s gut told him something was very wrong.

And he was right.

Because the moment he stepped out of the gym after practice, sweaty and exhausted, he saw you. Standing right outside the school gates, casually scrolling through your phone, completely unaware of the trap you were walking into.

And right next to you?

Kuroo.

Kenma froze.

No. No, no, no.

Kuroo had found you.

You looked up at the sound of footsteps, smiling when you saw Kenma. “Hey, Ken—”

“You absolute menace,” Kenma interrupted, glaring at Kuroo.

Kuroo grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulder like you were best friends. “Kenma, why would you hide such an adorable girlfriend from us?”

Your eyes widened. “Wait—they know?”

“Oh, they definitely know,” Kuroo confirmed. “Thanks to Lev.”

“Sorry!” Lev called from behind Kenma, looking not sorry at all.

You gave Kenma an apologetic look. “I guess the secret’s out, huh?”

Kenma groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate my life.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Kuroo teased, nudging you. “We’re just so happy for our little Kenma. He’s growing up.”

“Shut up,” Kenma grumbled, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from Kuroo before he could say anything else embarrassing.

As you walked off, you giggled, squeezing Kenma’s hand. “It’s not that bad.”

“It is that bad,” he muttered. “Now they’ll never leave me alone.”

You smiled, swinging your intertwined hands slightly. “Guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”

Kenma sighed, looking at you. And despite how much of a headache this was, despite Kuroo’s teasing, despite everything—

He decided maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Because at the end of the day, he still had you.

And that was worth any amount of teasing.

———

IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I’VE UPLOADED BUT I MISS IT!! will be making a return but i hope you like this!! <33

if you have any recommendations you want me to write please do share!!

dt: @cosmicbrowniebox <3

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kodzuksn · 3 days ago

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Just a small drabble. Kenma has a high maintenance girlfriend and has no idea (read: he doesn't care and thinks you're way too amazing for him). Song below makes me think of the dynamic

Warnings: Kenma x Fem!Reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, you're into your appearance and typical "feminine" things (by heteronormative standards) in this one, you are just mentioned in this, not actually in it. it's more of a conversation between kenma and kuroo, sorry. really short, i could expand the concept into a fic in the future.

Kuroo looks over Kenma's shoulder to see what's distracting him from Kuroo's riveting story of his last business trip and is surprised to see Kenma confirming an online order. "Buying a new game?" Kuroo asks with a grin.

Kenma rolls his eyes and leans away from him in response. "No. I ordered a new bag for ____ ." His tone suggests it's nothing out of the ordinary, and it isn't, but it still causes Kuroo to raise an eyebrow.

"She's kinda high maintenance, huh?" Kuroo comments his thoughts out loud.

Kenma scrunches his face up as he looks at Kuroo like he's stupid. "No."

Kuroo pauses for a moment and just blinks because Kenma is not naive or oblivious. In fact, he's able to read people almost freakishly well because of his anxious obsession of staying a head of people so they can't catch him off guard and humiliate him or something. There is no way Kenma is oblivious to your tendencies. "You're buying her another handbag..." Kuroo says slowly.

Kenma grunts in response and looks back at his phone. "A tote bag," He mutters the correction. "And I'm buying her it because she carries so much shit in her bag it hurts her shoulders. This is supposed to be internally padded without it being noticeable."

"And...you don't think that's...high maintenance?" Kuroo inquires as if speaking to a child.

Kenma huffs in annoyance and looks up at Kuroo again. "No. She's easier to please than my cat."

Now Kuroo is seriously confused. "What?"

Kenma looks at him like he's stupid again. Kuroo feels like he's on the outside of some inside joke. "I bought her a year's worth of nail sets for valentine's day and she was skipping places for the next week," Kenma tells him bluntly. "She's so easy to please, it's ridiculous."

Kuroo looks at him in bewilderment. "Kenma, she gets a new nail set every month and she hardly ever wears the same outfit twice. She gets embarrassed if someone sees her when she's not fully done up."

Kenma purses his lips. "Yeah. She likes when people admire her," He tells Kuroo as if it's obvious. Kuroo is genuinely so lost right now. "That's not high maintenance, it's easy to understand. If she was super complicated to read and clingy, and nothing pleased her then she'd be high maintenance. She's not any of that."

Huh, Kuroo never really thought about it like that, but he supposes it makes sense for a guy like Kenma. He likes things straightforward and he appreciates people who understand him and his need for solitude. You're straightforward in what you want, you don't expect Kenma to make himself uncomfortable to please you by demanding he takes you places or anything, and you're fine to give him alone time since you like alone time too. Kuroo supposes you being a little materialistic and into your appearance doesn't bother Kenma since it's simple and he seems to be able to understand it, which is all he cares about.

And, now that Kuroo thinks about it, it's not like you ask for Kenma to do any of the things he does. You were into fashion and being done up long before you met Kenma, to the point that Kenma didn't believe you were into him for a while because you seemed so out of his league. It's not like you sought Kenma out because you wanted a guy to pay for your nails. Ever since Kuroo has met you you've had a new nail set every month, happily showing it off. Now, Kenma pays for it though, and he almost looks as happy as you do when you show off your new set to him. Maybe that's what Kenma meant. You are pretty easy to please in that regard and maybe Kenma likes pleasing you, and seeing remnants of it whenever you wear something he bought you or have a new hair style he payed for. Kenma isn't good with words, but he's decent with actions. Maybe he likes that he can please you so easily with actions.

Kuroo smiles at his friend and chuckles to himself. "Well, whatever you say, Kynma. She's your girl."

Kenma scrunches up his nose and turns back to his phone. "Don't call me that."

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kodzuksn · 3 days ago

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boyfriend!kenma x fem!reader (๑>◡<๑)

smutish.. mainly just random headcannon (18+ just incase)

famous streamer!kenma who you're known since elementary school

the two of you met in kindergarten class.. both of you were the shyest quiet kids. slowly developing an unspoken alliance together. silently taking care of each other and eventually becoming each others best friends.

bestie!kenma who could comfortably act himself around you. he's the biggest complainer you know. especially when his loud new friend kuroo started introducing him to volleyball.

bestie!kenma who'd take your hand yelling, "run! run!" as he would show your the best hiding spots to avoid kuroo.

bestie!kenma being your number one taste taster whenever you helped your mom in the kitchen. he remembers the first recipe you mastered on your own. (apple pie, slightly on the bitter side– still apple pie instantly became his favorite food)

bestie!kenma whose been secretly making out with you since late middle school

he was beat red the first time you asked him to kiss you. your reason being that there was a boy you desperately needed to confess too (literally him😫) but first you had to learn how to kiss duh!!

bestie!kenma who was sputtering empty words trying to reason with you why it would be a bad idea. too bad you didn't care to listen, shutting him up with an aggressive first kiss.

giggling between kisses, you thought about how it was just like the movies <3

bestie!kenma who would grip your waist whenever you two hid in his closet to kiss. your newest excuse being needing to master the skill. something about leveling up blah blah whatever gamer language. it honestly took kenma up until your first year of highschool to catch on you were just obsessed with kissing him. dummy

you respected him enough to not do it around his volleyball team. funny enough kuroo caught you guys once but never said anything to spare kenma the embarrassment

anyways... 🫡

thirdyear!kenma who now had to learn to do other things to keep you satisfied. 😒😒 otherwise you would climb onto his lap and take it from him, when all he wanted to do was play his game.

sassy!kenma starts here!!

he'd sigh and pretend he doesn't wanna mess around but you can literally feel how into it he is?? 😭😭😭 his eyes roll feigning annoyance but he's quick to put his controller down and his hands are helping you rock against him... 🤣🙄

and for the first time ever... kenma helps you turn so your back is against his chest and his hand slithers down into the waistband of your panties..

you've definitely sent him a few nudes before but he was always too shy to see you naked in person.

but.. new year, new me!! he's teasing the fuck out of your little clit. while you continue grinding down on him.

kenma's fingers are long and slim. and his hands are precise from various activities (volleyball/gaming) so he picks this skill up fast.

literally wants to eat you out after watching you cum on his fingers. finishes in his pants at the thought

🙄🙄post-nut clarity gets him and he's suddenly all shy and embarrassed again. literally pushes you off his lap. 😓

a couple weeks later.. he's repeatedly looking over at you like he's got something to say. the irritation causing a frustration "what?" from you.

he subtly asks "hey are you my girlfriend..?" and you're like "obviously kenma😒.." he's funny with it too going, "okay. just making sure."

bf! kenma who now gives you special privileges and lets you suck him off. his moans are soo pretty your a little jealous. he's like putty the first time you kiss at his tip. his favorite thing is when you give tiny kitten licks to his balls. he's throwing his head back and pushing your head to take him entirely.

it's his first time getting head, so he doesn't know to warn you when he's cumming🙁🙁, ends up cumming all over your face and hair..

honestly it's kinda hot but you pretend to be mad at him. "kenma! you got it all over my hair too!" 😠

"...sorry."

bf!kenma who makes it up to you a couple days later. when he finally fucks you after literal years (two) of you begging for it. is surprisingly a little rougher than you pictured him to be.

honestly really loves doggy and missionary. he starts with missionary and lovess seeing how reactive you are. his tip is right there pushing in slightly. your blushing face and teary eyes turn him on so much. gets lost in how pretty you look. 🙁

forgets it's literally your first time too and pushes right in and sets his pace. is absolutely gripping your legs to keep them open. he's an athlete after all so he has the strength to rag doll you😭😭

chooses not to though because he doesn't like to overexert himself.

when he finishes, he couldn't pull out all the way. 🙁 soft embarrassed kenma is back. he hides in your chest. but don't worry he (begrudgingly) buys you a plan b with his allowance. 🙂

still in your third year, i think he'd start streaming/youtube around this time.

has a steady build up to fame. within the end of the school year he reached a half a million on youtube!!

convinced you to start a youtube for baking and "all that girly shit" (his words) 💆‍♀️ buys you a camera and editing laptop with his new big boy money 😍

you post aesthetic bake with me's, makeup tutorials, and short vlogs. he edits your first couple videos, before showing you how to edit and upload on your own.

you steady get a following too!! around 40k !! not nearly as much as kenma but still amazing.

you guys start college eventually. kenma goes into business and computer science!! smart boy!!! he starts a baby company and starts investing into stocks with his big boy youtube money?!? becomes even richer and buys a house for the both of you to move into.🤗

you chose to major in media arts communication 😍. kenma makes a joke about how you can be his sweet lil manager <33

back to the house kenma bought.. it's definitely a fixer upper but it's yours and your in love! feel like adulthood.. though your mostly excited about the unlimited sex you get to have now without either of your parents around.

kenma is excited about his new streaming room. 😍

both you and kenma help eachother with content and sponsorships but neither publicly say anything about eachother.

with your youtube content, sometimes you show kenmas figure in the background. small clips of him driving, helping you cook, or even just his hands. very subtle shots of him.

when you do actively film him, you try to avoid getting his full face. you'll show just the tiniest bit of his jaw line. or slivers of his side profile.

for kenma's content he doesn't show you at all. the occasional wrist slip will apear of you bringing him dinner and twitter goes crazy.😱😱

it's not that you two are keeping your relationship a secret, you two have always been private about one another. neither of you deny having a partner, but neither of you give proper answers to your fans.

kuroo says maybe you guys are just sadists who like to tease everyone. (you're definitely a masochist though kenma thinks)

the closest kenma's fans got to a girlfriend reveal was that one time he almost leaked your nudes 😔

he was on stream showing pictures you sent him of the apple pie you made when he accidentally swipes too far. he's quick to notice mid-swipe that the next picture is NAWTT apple pie....😅😅

"so yeah guys this is the apple pie my girl made for me– she sent me pictures, ..oh fuck."

he awkwardly turns his phone around and laughs a little. his ears are red but luckily his hair hides them. after stream he watches the clip back and releases a sigh of relief. the shot is mostly blurry and you can really only make out the color of your skin.

kenma tells you about it later offering an apology with it. all you do is giggle saying you wouldn't mind your nudes exposed. it's not like they knew your identity anyways.

"yeah, but i'd get a twitch ban😒"

in your second year of uni, kenma is at over 2 million subscribers!! he's invited to events and parties but mainly declines. he attends the occasional charity event but prioritizes hinata's volleyball games.

your youtube is doing well too!! 700k subscribers and you receive a variety of pr.

neither of you bother to answer personal questions but your honestly surprised you two haven't been linked together yet.

you both live in the same house, attend the same college, and are usually out together. either luck is on your side or your fans aren't putting two and two together.

you suppose it's a lot harder for kenma's fans to find out more about you. while they definitely know you exist.. they have no other leads.

revisiting bf!kenma

bf!kenma absolutely hates condoms😭😭

it's not that he doesn't want to use them, he doesn't want to buy them.🙄

the last time he bought them a fan had approached him and asked for a picture together. kenma accepts and poses for the picture. he's standing next to the fan holding up a peace sign. ✌🏼

sighhhhh....

he doesn't think much of it at the time. just a nice moment with a supporter of his until he gets home and opens twitter.. 😭😭

the picture is all over his feed and mentions. going viral on the gamer side of twitter. at first he's confused until he analyzes the picture a little more.

are we serious..🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

in his peace sign hand is the box of condoms he purchased an hour ago... not to mention the isle of assorted condoms, lube, and other contraceptives behind them.

shy!kenma is back😭😭😭

he's soooo embarrassed. he knows all his online friends have seen it. he knows you've probably seen it. and when his phone rings with a familiar contact displaying he knows kuroo's seen it.

probably the most annoying part of this situation.

anyway's kenma swears he's never buying another box of condoms ever again. so unless you go buy them (you won't) raw it is.

bf!kenma learns quickly he loves it raw. the feeling of you much too good to go back to condoms. kenma's pull out game is still really bad... and honestly neither of you give pregnancy a second thought. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

looking back maybe you should've!! 🤗

you're half way through your third year of college when you notice a significant increase in your weight. you appoint it to be you bad eating habits and make a mental note to cut back.

a week later your in the doctors office. but funny enough for kenma.

bf!kenma has been experiencing extreme nausea and sleep troubles. ☹️☹️

he's even thrown up a couple times but no over the counter medicine has been working.

bf!kenma has been canceling streams to try to pass his sickness but to no avail, you decide to drive him to the doctors. thinking maybe it's food poisoning from the new receipe you tried??

the doctor run tests but nothing comes back. going over kenma's symptoms and descriptions the doctor asks if you two are sexually active.

you'll like 😳😳, what does that have to do with anything..

kenma feeling another wave of nausea lays back onto the clinic bed, expecting you to answer. not wanting to lie, you nod your head towards the doctor.

the doctor turns in his little swiveling chair and starts typing on his computer.

"..and are you two engaging in unsafe sex?"

again you nod, blushing a little. the doctor asks if you've felt any thing different lately, like kenma.

"um, not really? i feel very healthy. maybe i've gained a little weight recently."

the doctor nods along to your words. and your kinda just thinking 'shouldn't the focus be on kenma?'

when was your last period?"

oh! 😳😳 when was your last period? you take a moment to think, your brows furrowing in thought.

"you're not sure? that's okay."

the doctor calls a nurse in who guides you into another room, she gives you instructions to pee in a cup and leave it in a special compartment.

after following instructions, you leave the private bathroom and head back into kenma's room. you're sweating hard!! there was definitely a high chance you were pregnant. but your honestly just confused about kenma's condition.

after returning, you take a seat next to kenma, he immediately leans into your shoulder.

"so... they think i might be pregnant.."

kenma jumps up and looks at you like 😳😳 no way 😳😳😳 then immediately gets a wave of nausea and has to lean back into the doctors chair😵‍💫

before you can speak again the doctor enters the room again, "..so your definitely pregnant. congratulations."

whaaaattt? 🙎‍♀️ everyone's just kind staring at eachother.

the doctor speaks up again. "regarding kenma's condition, looks like its couvade syndrome. it's something a lot of expecting fathers experience. thinks like morning sickness, fatigue.. all early symptoms of pregnancy. and since all his test came back negative, while your pregnant test came back positive– we have our answer."

great.

you two drive home in silence.. kinda weird the boy you've known since you were five.. is going to be your baby daddy.

now you guys have to figure out how to hide your relationship AND your pregnancy... 😆

a/n: like and reblog for part two maybe?? idk im not a writer so this isn't the best. but i hope it was fun to read!!