#jjk heian era

[nnovus]

𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ━━ SUKUNA X READER

SYNOPSIS… Many knew The King of Curses; Ryomen Sukuna to be an arrogant and cunning with a strong attachment towards his wife; A powerful and reliable women before reaching her death. A death that caused The king of curses nothing but pain. Until right after reawakening he spots his wife’s reincarnation standing right in front of him.

INFO… Sukuna x uchihabased!reader , angst, mentions of sickness, narutoxjjk!crossover , mentions of weightloss, mentions of violence, trueform!sukuna, heianera!sukuna, readers looks and personality are based off madara uchiha, mentions of blood, oc!reader,

OTHER…likes and reblogs are appreciated

FOR THE FIRST TIME SUKUNA SEEMED TO BE LOST FOR WORDS ━━ His eyes refused to leave sight of the beautiful women in front of him.

She stood so elegantly in her warrior uniform as the tall trees in the forest surrounded her. She had her head lifted, looking up into the moon Her side continued to face Sukuna.

It didn’t take long for the women to lower her head and slightly turn her eyes to make contact with his bright red ones.

He analysed her appearance, not allowing himself to miss one feature about her. She was fair-skinned with spiky, black hair that had a slight blue tint to it.

Her hair was put into a loose low bun with shoulder-length bangs framing the sides of her face covering most of her right eye. Although looking still quite young, more prominent creases had developed under each of her eyes. Standing out was her crimson armour with numerous metal plates, forming protective guards along his chest, waist, shoulders and thighs. She held a unique sword in her fist.

It started with Sukuna on a mission travelling with Uraume and a few other of his men but realistically the missions goal completely slipped out his mind the second he saw her..

Uraume eyebrows raised with seeing Sukuna’s reaction. He may have not said anything but with the way his body and eyes twitched at the women’s appearance. made it more than obvious. He needed her in his grasps.

His eyes widened to see a fatal amount start to drip blood down from her head covering the side of her face that wasn’t already covered by her bangs.

With such an injury and many others around her body, it didn’t take long for her to lose her grip around weird looking sword as it had now fallen onto the ground.

They all were all lost for words to see the girl then close her eyes while consciousness soon left her body. Before she was able to collapse and the ground a pair of large hands had been placed around her waist.

It seems Sukuna had used his incredibly speed to behind her before she was able to hit the ground. His men looked at each other slightly confused. Did the Ruthless King Of Curses really just do that??

Though they were quickly hushed by Uraume not wanting to say or do something that might get them killed. Uraume only rolled their eyes before signalling the men to go on ahead and complete the mission.

They only nodded in agreement before running off leaving the three of them alone as the woman was now being held up by Sukuna’s lower left arm.

“Lord Sukuna..” Uraume muttered. Not admitting it but they were indeed slightly stunned by his actions. Even if he wanted her, it was out of the ordinary for him to catch anyone before they lost consciousness. Half the time he is the reason why they lose consciousness anyway.

The King Of Curses stayed silent with nothing but his usual scowl painted across his face. Being more focused on the dark haired woman as he picked her up bridal style, having the idea to keep such a beauty under his supervision.

Uraume walked closer toward the two, amused at how the woman rested her head on his muscular tattooed chest. What was more is he didn’t seem to care about the blood that stained his exposed skin.

“Are you going to heal her yourself?” Uraume asked. Even though the woman was unconscious, there was still soft painful groans that were mixed in with her breathing.

“I’m not letting her die, This woman definitely has a purpose.” He smirked having a clear satisfied expression that Uraume could only sweat at.

Uraume has seen The King of Curses be pleased and satisfied with many things such as Killings, executions, Power, fighting, basically bloodshed overall. Exactly why it’s shocking to see an even more, manically, pleaded grin on his lips while he looked at you.

Cursed energy surrounded his hand before he went to place it on the woman’s chest to heal her and ensured of her survival. After all it would be a shame to let such a doll out of his grasp so soon.

Sukuna figured that due to recent events of him finding such treasure, it would be best to return to his empire and let the woman get some proper rest.

It then took the King Of Curses, two steps of footsteps before Uraume eye’s caught sight of it. On the Back of the women’s attire a symbol was embroidered.

It was most definitely a clan symbol. It features a distinctive design resembling a traditional Japanese fan or umbrella, characterized by its bold color scheme of red and white. She knew of that symbol well, definitely the Uchiha clan’s crest.

“The woman..” Uraume called out, grabbing Sukuna’s attention. After all, the topic had seemed to be about his treasure. It would be criminal not to listen.

“The woman looks like to be from the Uchiha Clan.” They added while eyeing the clan’s crest. As soon as the clan’s name was mentioned the hair tie that kept her hair in a bun broke.

Letting out her dark, long, spiky hair to cover the Uchiha Clan’s symbol. With that Sukuna’s manic smile grew larger.

“Uchiha, you say.. Guess I really hit the jackpot, Right Uraume?” He asked, sounding more like a statement. He was well aware of his win, there was no need for anyone to inform him.

“It seems so, Master Sukuna.” Uraume replied. A closed eye smile appearing on their face as well. It seemed it was now time for Lord Sukuna’s prize to be brought home.

It had now officially been a week since that incident. And to Be fair it hadn’t left Sukuna’s mind once. Minimum once a day Sukuna visits the woman’s room to see if the Uchiha had woken up. Unfortunately there was still no signs of her waking up.

He was now sat on his throne resting his head in his palm with a frown placed on his lips while he bit the inside of his cheek. He was really starting to get impatient. Usually if someone wasn’t awake the instant Sukuna was present. They would be killed. But for you, it truly was different. And it was really starting to piss him off.

He turned his eyes to the side of his throne where his faithful servant, Uraume was standing. It seemed they was were aware of his thoughts. Only shaking their head to let The king of curses know there were still no signs of consciousness coming from the women.

“Y’know Uraume, This is really starting to—” He tried to complain but was interrupted from the doors of his throneroom flying open to reveal one of his female servants, one who he did not remember the name of but she did seem to have a puffed out look on her face.

She rushed towards the King’s throne before kneeling in front of it. Sukuna raised his eyebrows his angry expression tensing. She better have a good excuse to make such a scene in the man’s castle. Just who did she think she is making doors fly open.

“Master Sukuna, the w-woman is awake..” Sukuna’s eyes widened as his frown quickly turned to a menacing smile. Finally, his been waiting for this.

The man practically threw himself up from his throne, already making his way towards the room she was being cared at. Uraume followed behind him of course.

Although he turned his eyes to make contact with Uraume a few moments after heavy movement and multiple voices were heard from the direction where the woman supposedly was.

When they got closer, specifically at the doorframe that started the hallway filled with rooms. They were stunned at what they were staring at.

“You’re still hurt. You need to get back in bed!” A female servant of Sukuna’s yelled out. Sukuna was quite speechless to see such an illustration.

With his own very vision, he was looking at backs of his servant and the woman. His servant had her arms extended forward not directly touching the woman’s waist but near it. It seemed she was trying to help steady her balance all without touching her.

Though it was clear she was still in no position to be moving around so much. Though it seemed she was the type of woman who didn’t believe it in rest.

She currently had her left hand placed on the wall while her right one was pressed onto her chest where she was originally injured. Her body was leaning against the wall as she couldn’t walk without the support.

“Thanks for your concern, but screw that-” Sukuna sweated at the way the woman collapsed onto her knees before she was even able to finish her sentence.

“Oh, Lord sukuna!?” The servant said surprised as she was unaware of the man who was behind them. What’s more was both Uraume and the man had a stupid, dumbfounded expression on his face. It was quite hilarious to see since he was known to be always angry and serious. But of course, the servant didn’t dare to speak a chuckle around him.

“What’s going on here??” He asked angrily, closing the distance and making his way towards the two in front of him. He vermillion red eyes glared down at the woman who‘s breathing quickly fastened.

“I tried to make her say in bed until you came but, she wouldn’t listen.” The servant explained and bowed nervously thinking she would get scolded or even worse..

But to be honest, not a signal word entered Sukuna’s brain as he only kept focus on his favourite sight. The woman of course. Well second favourite, bloodshed was obviously his first.

A unnoticed gasp was then released from his lips after he caught a glimpse of something. Even though the woman was collapsed onto the ground he was still able to get a good look at everything about her.

Her long gorgeous hair, and refined elegant and delicate face as well as her perfect body. Exactly why he didn’t fail to notice the blood that stained through her white robe and the bandages that were wrapped around her upper chest.

He was quick to pick her up from the ground and carry her back to the bedroom she was staying at. He then placed her onto the bed while he took a seat on a chair right next to the bed. Giving him a perfect angle of her face.

He seemed to be man spreading while his bottom pair of hands intertwined with eachother. He kept focus on her noticing her breathing was not quite slowing down. With that information, Uraume was given the task to grab the girl a cup of water and new bandages.

She was laid on her back, eyes shut with her legs tangled across each other. Her arms were separated but they were both indeed rested on the pillow and most of her hair that was in the way.

Her hair was long which was why it was no surprised that her hair had been spread all over the pillow and bed. As for her face, her cheeks had turned into a pinkish tint and sweat had been seen. Very Obvious signs of a fever.

Sukuna felt the inside of his pants twitch when she incompletely opened her eyes making contact with his. The feverish look on her face did seemed to have quite the impact on him.

His thoughts were soon interrupted by Uraume walking in with a cup of water and a fresh set of cloth bandages. Now officially walking up to the Uchiha they placed the items on the bedside table.

“You did your research, right Uraume?” Sukuna raised his brows when seeing Uraume place her arm behind the woman’s back to asssit with sitting her up and when needing to drink the cup of water that was bought to her.

By this so called ‘research’ he had originally assigned Uraume to find information about the women. After all there was nothing they knew besides her family name and appearance.

“Yes Master Sukuna.” They nodded after fixing the Uchiha’s pillow and laying her down once again. Her rosy cheeks and teary eyes making the man practically lose his mind.

“So??” He asked not needing to say much to let his faithful servant know about his curiosity.

“Y/N Uchiha, heir of the Uchiha clan. A genius acknowledged for her exceptional intellect, strategic thinking, and mastery of the Uchiha clan's Dojutsu.” Uraume said talking about her as if she wasn’t laid on the bed right beside the two.

“hmm, thought so…” Sukuna muttered. He was already well aware of the fact the woman was strong. He was aware of it since the first time their eyes made contact in the forset.

“I was able to manage to a piece of her data book it’s not much but definitely worth looking at.” Uraume said. Slipping down the top of Y/N’s robe to expose her full torso that was covered in bandages.

“I see..” Sukuna mumbled, watching how Uraume unwrapped Y/N’s bandages leaving her upper body bare. Only causing the King Of Curse’s glare to intensify as well as the tent in his pants.

When seeing Uraume finished with treating the injured woman Sukuna had gotten up from his seat and signalled his most faithful servant to follow behind him outside the room.

“Everything alright, Lord Sukuna?” Uraume questioned. Closing the door shut behind them as they exited the room and started walking down the hallway of the estate.

“Get a concubine ready for me, Uraume.” He said, not sounding very entertained or pleased. Uraume nodded soon seeing the man enter the library of his estate wanting to find the ‘page’ they spoke about.

He studied it for about a whole thirty minutes before placing it in the pocket of his pants. He then found his body and mind guiding himself through the grand estate back to her room. Aftter Opening the door and walking into the room, he was somehow standing in shock at this sight.

Y/N Uchiha left her room in bad condition and without supervision once again. Oh he most definitely needed to put some sense into her. Escaping from his eyes every chance given made his blood boil.He rapidly moved around the room. Making a mess of everything while trying to look for Y/N or at least a hint of where she could’ve ran off to in her injured state.

When moving around the room his eye caught sight of the balcony door that was slightly opened. It wasn’t like that when him and Uraume had left. Could it be??His eyes began to twitch as he thought of the worst possible situations that could’ve occurred while he was gone.

Exactly why it didn’t take him long to rush out onto the balcony. To his relief, Y/N stood just a few inches away from the railing as she seemed to be folding a piece of paper and placing it inside a bag that was carried by a type of hawk?? Seemed like a messenger bird. Wait where did she even get the paper and ink from anyway?

“Your suppose to be resting..” He informed, raising his eyebrows as he walked forward, closer to the railing to stand next to the Uchiha. “yeah well, I can rest once I’m dead.” She rolled her eyes before lifting her arm to allow the bird to fly away with her note.

She then turned her head to look at the King of Curses. He was truly shocking. He was tall and muscular man covered in tattoos with four arms, four eyes, and a large mouth on his stomach.

In the two encounters she had with him before, specifically in the forest and earlier on today she did infact get a few glimpses at him. But her vision was blurry so it was hard to make out. But right now she saw it all.

He also has short pink-red hair and red eyes, with his two right eyes being angled differently and located on a white flesh plate-like structure on the right side of his face. He also clearly did not have a happy expression on his face, and it was definitely towards the sassiness Y/N had just displayed.

After all the first words she had said to him directly were truly infuriating and disrespectful to a man with such power as his. “Damn woman—” He bickered at her. But, was unable to finish when he saw her delicate and fragile face in full view in front of him. To think a pretty face might be the cause of his death was truly unreal.

“So…I hope you’re smart enough to not plan on using that hawk as a way of escape.” He muttered changing the topic when holding deep eye contact with the girl.

“No, I just want to send my clan a confirmation about my safety.” She replied, knowing about the rumours and skills of none other than the cruel and powerful king Ryomen Sukuna.

“After all, I doubt you’re the type to let your prisons free so easily. Ain’t that right, Lord Sukuna.” A smirk now appearing on her lips.

But the man stayed quiet. Due to the fact his thought were all over the place. Oh how he loved the way his name sounded when coming out her gorgeous lips.

“Surrender yourself to me..” He said with the most amount of confidence ever heard. It sounded more like a statement than a question.

Y/N only blinked at his words unsure what he mean’t, was he gonna kill her or something?? Her brain wasn’t able to comprehend his sentence. She was still injured the man seriously needed to give her a break.

“You heard me.” He stated, a driving look in his eyes. There was really no stopping the King from getting what he wanted. And what he wanted was Y/N Uchiha.

A ethereal beauty like that was something he needed at his aid. Even looking at her made him crazy. Oh how badly he wanted everything about her. Would definitely love to get rid of the sassiness and sarcasm though. No worries he had a plan for that!!!

“You heard me, Offer yourself to me. Your freedom, body, soul, mind. Everything about you I want it served to me on a golden platter…” Has he seriously lost his mind. Y/N were a damn clan heir she didn’t have time for this crap.

Part 2???

[crimson-sinclaire]

Somebody showed me a post about Uraume's one-sided hate towards Kenjaku stemming from a petty remark Kenjaku made about Uraume's cooking and I was immediately inspired to draw the scene it described.

And here is the original post and the comments:

[elysiannnnxd]

sooo.. i haven’t posted ina while, so let me introduce my jjk oc!

INFO!!

Name: Yoshikage

Prns/gender: non binary, they/them (fem leaning)

personality: crazy, insane, blood thristy, loves distruction, loves building things, lives for the high of human suffering, basically harley quinn, great at hiding it under a normal human personality, childish, curious

fighting styles: uses cursed energy and cursed weapons/able to make weapons with their gears and definitaly had gears with sharpened edges used for throwing like a boomarang

LORE: Yoshikage knew sukuna and uraume before he became a curse as like friends or sum idk, and then sukuna became a curse, and then they became his servant like urame very devoted, and then during a battle they got stabbed through the heart and died, thousands of years later they got reincarnated in a 15 yr olds body but their soul was still the same so they still had the memories of the heian era, also that made them around sukunas age in the shibuya arc, they attended the jjk school a little after megumi, so before yuji, and when they met yuji they had a weird attachment (not knowing it was sukuna but they could feel hes presents) and in the shibyua arc when sukuna revealed himself after eating the fingers they were immidietly by his side and sukuna has also been waiting to reveal himself bc he could also sense the og soul of them from heian era, and when uraume came they all reunited/Yoshikage betraying yuji and the others because villain arc real.

extra: based off steampunk fashion/harley quinns personality

[v1x3n]

thinking about trueform sukuna who loves overstimulating you to the max. you're riding him - well, not really. your sat up on his cock but two of his hands are gripping your hips, bouncing you up and down furiously.

one of his cocks, the bigger one, stretching out your poor pussy. reaching so deep, your stomach bulges out, showing the shape of his mighty cock. his other cock wasn't as bulky or tall as the other one, but it was still bigger than any other mans. that one was stuffed tight into your puckered hole, filling you up nicely. you couldn't get away from the pleasure as sukuna forces you to swallow his length over and over again. taking him whole was a hard thing but with a bit of force, you could do it.

the tongue that slides out from his stomachs mouth, licks a wet glob of spit on your clit, lapping at the small bud.

you whine loudly, tears brought to your eyes. you squirm, trying to get away as your legs shake angrily. "what's the matter?" his soothing words would have been nice despite his mocking grin that plasters his sweaty face.

you mumble out slurred words, while his two free hands are attached to your boobs. grabbing, grasping and pinching the skin. your nipples already swollen from the clamps he had clasped to them earlier. slight red glows at your sensitive nipples. you mewl loudly, tears dripping down your chin as you moan repetitively. your legs shake with a violent pace.

cum lashing out from your pussy, dripping down his cock as you squirt all over him. the mouth on his stomach seems to groan at the taste, lapping it up. his hands bounce you angrier, desperate the take every drip from in you.

your messy hair wafts around, sticking to your skin slightly. sweat covers you as your body is worn out from the past hour. "su-hah!" you moan out loudly. eyebrows pinching together.

"take it." he groans out, head falling back in laughter and pleasure. a hand that grips your hip harshly moves up to your stomach, pressing down hard. you whine as spurt out more liquid. "fucken messy girl."

[anglbunny]

FIRST TIME RIDING SUKUNA

smut mdni, hand kink, size kink, visual overstimulation

You didn’t expect it to feel this way.

You’d seen his cock already — thick, veiny, way too big for comfort — but seeing it and riding it were two completely different things. Right now, with your thighs trembling around his hips and your chest heaving from the effort of trying to take just the tip — reality was finally settling in.

He didn’t fit. Not really. Not all the way.

But Sukuna wasn’t known for patience.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he drawled, voice rough with a dark kind of amusement. His hands — those huge fucking hands — were gripping your waist, spanning damn near the whole thing. One twitched slightly, then forced you down an inch further. You cried out, your insides fluttering and squeezing instinctively around him. “That little pussy’s gonna stretch whether she wants to or not.”

You shook your head, fingers clawing at his chest, trying to keep some distance. “I-I can’t—! It’s too—fuck, it’s too big—!”

Sukuna laughed, deep and dangerous, his thumb brushing over your swollen clit in slow, deliberate circles that made your hips jolt involuntarily.

“Oh, you can,” he said, voice all smoke and cruelty. “You’re already halfway there. Just look.”

Your eyes snapped downward — and your stomach flipped.

Only half his cock was inside. And you already felt full, stuffed, stretched wide open. Your lips were spread around him in a taut, obscene O, slick glistening down his shaft, and he still hadn’t bottomed out. You tummy sporting a very prominent bulge from his cock.

“Shit…” you whimpered.

“You’re takin’ it like a fuckin’ champ,” he purred, almost mockingly. His fingers moved again — not just on your clit, but his other hand shifted up to your neck. Not choking, just resting there. Heavy. Possessive. Thumb brushing your throat like he could feel the noises spilling out of it.

“So damn loud already,” he grinned, cock twitching inside you. “And we haven’t even started moving.”

When he did move — when he bucked his hips just slightly, sinking another brutal inch into you — your moan turned into a strangled sob.

“Fuck—Sukuna—!”

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, voice feral. “Ride it. Scream if you need to — scream loud. Let everyone know this pussy’s mine now.”

You tried to lift your hips again, to ease the pressure, but he grabbed you again — both hands on your ass now, big fingers digging in mercilessly as he held you down and thrust up, slamming in deeper, deeper—

You screamed.

Back arched, eyes rolled back, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as you choked on his name again and again. Your body didn’t know whether to fight it or come.

“Too big,” you sobbed, even as your cunt clenched around him. “I can’t—gonna break—”

Sukuna grinned, all teeth and filth and menace.

“Then break.”

TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau @laslowchan @ethxrxxlity

A/N: haven't wrote for him in a while

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

Masterlist

[flvvffy]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐑𝐀!𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

heian era!sukuna who always has you by his side when he's dealing with things around the estate. when he's walking around the garden, he always has you clinging to his bicep as he listens to your silly thoughts and the occasional laughter you let out.

heian era!sukuna who now only allows you to bathe him and the same goes for you. the servants only now long to be able to see and touch his incredible body but he only gives you the privilege. "come. i'm in need of a bath", and you can't protest as he pulls you by the wrist to the bath house.

heian era!sukuna who always has you sat on his lap all pretty as he listens to his people's requests. his lower pair of arms around your waist, holding you firmly and his his subject dare to even glance at you, he shoots then a glare and a warning. "you're here for me, so don't focus on her or deal with my wrath. I'm in a good mood today, so don't upset me"

heian era!sukuna who only allows you to spend countless nights in his chambers. usually after he's done with his other concubines, they leave his chambers immediately, by command. but you, he doesn't even refer to you as one of them, and neither do the others dare as after an long passionate night, he lets you sleep in his chambers, in his bed, only because he enjoys staring at your sleeping form all night.

heian era!sukuna who takes care of you himself when you're sick. whether it be preparing the medicine for you to drink, feeding you your food even though you have energy to feed yourself, dressing you and even carrying you in his arms when you want to go outside. he doesn't care how much you'll protest, he's doing this for you, because he wants to so don't be stubborn about it!

heian era!sukuna who buys you new garments incase of a ceremony or when he's out. he could see a kimono your size and picture your smiling face when you receive his gift. it does something to his dead heart, so he just gets it for you no matter how much it costs. and he just likes showing you off to everyone around him by dressing you up all pretty, with you hair and makeup done by only the finest stylists in the area.

heian era!sukuna who made sure that all the workers know that you're not on their level. he has your chambers adorned with whatever he find fits you. the most comfortable bed, the prettiest mirror so you can look all pretty for him, a huge wardrobe with your many garments and more. he spoils you completely rotten a treatment that no one except you gets. not even his concubines.

heian era!sukuna who prefers sharing meals with you privately. just looking at you place bite after bite in your mouth as elegantly as you can fills so type of void in his heart. you get sauce on your cheek or the corner of your mouth and he reaches out and wipes it away with his thumb before licking it.

heian era!sukuna who pulls you closer into his warm embrace and presses soft kisses to your face when you're sleeping happy that you've accepted him and feel safe around him.

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝐅𝐋𝐕𝐕𝐅𝐅𝐘

[edensrose]

. ۫ᯓᡣ𐭩 heian r. sukuna ✧ f reader ˚₊‧꒰ა kissing to distract ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˖ ꯴ ⌇ “ 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 ”

When the King of Curses has set his mind to something, nothing can stop him. If violence was on his mind, sure enough, blood would paint the floor.

He was ruthless, cruel, in a constant need to assert his rule as any ruler of his stature should. There was no time for mercy and forgiveness was a weakness. If someone crossed him, surely they must have a bite for blade and bloodshed.

No one could stop him. No object, no cosmic force.

But your kisses were a different kind of divine intervention.

The heavens shook, hell stilled — when your lips found his. Like a crash of sin and salvation all at once. As if you were his redeemer, his condemner and everything in between.

It was by pure accident that you discovered the one flaw to his anger: it never had eyes for you. He had grown enraged by his servants and their lack of success in their newest task. Like hellfire, two arms on his right raised and all sets of his eyes were ablaze. The boom of his voice shook the earth in a quake. Surely, their demise would be the only thing to sedate his —

"Sukuna!"

Two arms thrown around his neck froze him in spot. Your lips found his like a cool stream over blistering coals. Each of his eyes widened one by one, in an almost comical, delayed way.

Before he even found his ground again, you parted with that wide smile of yours. One that rivalled every cursed spirit and calamity in this wretched universe. "I saw your gift! Thank you much, you are so dear."

All he could do was stare at you, dumbfound, blinking slow. As if fighting heaven and earth to get a grasp back on his wrath. All he can ground himself on is a four-hand-hold on your waist and hips.

You furrowed your brows in confusion and quickly whirled your head to the line of trembling servants. Your big, frightfully adorable eyes turned back to him. "Oh, did I interrupt something?"

And that's when he knew he was damned.

It wasn't something you used often. You knew that your beloved's methods were violent in comparison to your own . . . Lies. It was that very reason that you used this to your fullest advantage.

If there was a meeting going horribly wrong and his temper flamed? You were tapping on his shoulder so he turned his head. Kiss.

An attendant pissed him off with being a second late? Suddenly you were behind him - why is your finger on his jaw? Kiss.

He's seconds from marching out and setting a village ablaze? Your arms are thrown around his neck, hands in his hair. Kiss. Passionate, fervent, kissing.

"Damn you, woman." His groan rumbled into your short laugh as he stumbled back into his estate with your feet fumbling. One hand swiftly braced on the wall behind you, another cradled your head and a third on your waist.

You smiled into his lips and he squeezed on whatever part of you he could. Lips met in a fervent frenzy hotter than any blister of his rage. Nimble fingers stroked through his hair and gripped along the strawberry strands in the way that elicited another groan.

"You lovveee meee. . ."

"You ruin me." He huffed, weak, feathering on affection.

© 𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 . no copying, translation or plagiarism authorised

[ratherchili]

𖹭 cw: fluff, suggestive, mdni

Ryomen Sukuna looks down at you from beneath furrowed brows as you kiss the corner of his tummy mouth. Even those auxiliary lips are drawn tight in a scowl.

"You waste your kisses there? Of all the things you could do with your mouth, this is what you choose?"

"Does it not please you, my lord?" You ask, feining an innocence that does not quite match the mischievous gleam in your eyes.

He only huffs in response, watching with gaurded interest as you trace the seam of his second mouth with your tongue. The tip of the thick, pink muscle inside - which seems to have a mind of it's own, at times - protrudes, drawn out by your attentions.

"Enough," he growls when you latch onto it, hollowing your cheeks as you attempt to draw at least part of the oversized tongue between your lips. You laugh as he drags you up to face him.

"Strange creature," he says, his voice soft, although he still frowns. One pair of hands clutch at your waist while the other cradles the back of your head as the king of curses urges you forward, pressing your soft mouth against his, the correct one, this time.

[animesmutspace]

smart mouth <3

ღ heian era sukuna! x female! reader. smut. mild choking, spanking, restraint, manhandling, size kinks. in between a mini blurbie and a whole fic tbh i couldn't decide :)

ღ ღ ღ — sukuna doesn't really know when you developed your habit of talking back to him. he had taken over your village just a couple of years ago, and decided to keep its residents as servants for the building of his new palace. you never liked him, doing your duties to the barest of minimums, and while your words seemed affirmative to his demands the glint in your eyes was malicious.

sukuna knew that he needed to fuck the attitude out of you.

his last straw was when you had lied saying that you cleaned his library, only to find dust settled all over his thousands of years old books when he entered last.

your ass was spanked raw. there was severe bruising on each ass cheek, tears streaming down your face on the other end of his lap. he didn't even bother to use his own hand, he had simply grabbed one of his slippers and beat your ass until it was genuinely purple, relentlessly. and when he was done, petting your butt in an effort to comfort the sobs wracking through your whole body, he heard the faintest mutter of "aren't you supposed to be the strongest being in all of creation?"

if sukuna was mad before, he was livid now. his small act of grace of giving you a light punishment was met with such arrogance that he could not contain himself any longer. he grabbed your hair to drag you upright, and to his shock, he saw a crazed smirk on your tear-ridden face, the glint in your eyes ever-more ferocious.

you've been in doggy style ever since. his front pressed to your back, your legs in between his, his dick was cramming itself in places you felt too much. his tip kissed your cervix one too many times, and every time you would try to inch forward for relief, his rough hands grabbed your torso closer to him, to his unrelenting dick. there was no where you could go.

and to sukuna, your screams were absolutely pathetic. undeserving. you did this to yourself, he thought. his hand reached over and shoved itself into your mouth, grabbing your tongue, applying just enough pressure for you to understand that he could take your life at any point. and if he wanted to, there was nothing you could do. he enjoyed the pitiful upwards look you gave him, fearful not just for your life but for your future ability to speak. serving as a reminder that sukuna could easily take your way of expressing yourself with absolutely no hesitation. there was no space for one of your smiles.

sukuna's deathly calm expression mirrored on all four of his eyes looking down on you was enough for you, squirting all over his steady cock and bed. your sounds grew even more miserable when you realized that he wasn't going to stop. in fact, his other three hands moved across your body to reach your nipples, where they twisted so powerfully that even more tears streamed down your face. woeful attempts at saying please please please have mercy were made, but alas, this was your punishment. it was his responsibility at the end of the day to ensure that his servants feared him.

nothing but wanton, borderline painful moans echoed throughout the palace, serving as a reminder to anyone who defied sukuna. smart mouths deserved the worst punishments the most.

[carebearbussy]

ᥫ᭡ thinking about heian era! sukuna having a heavy breeding kink, seemingly out of nowhere.

you bring up a mere idea at dinner, the conversation quickly turning normal, to you bringing up an idea he had never given a second thought to.

"do you ever want kids with me, 'kuna?"

you would ask him, innocently enough, a sickeningly sweet tone hidden beneath your words. but you would already know the answer to this question. he would look up at you, then back down at his food, annoyance pondering his mind. eating a slab of salmon sashimi, he took a bite, chewing slow enough to hint at his potential answer. placing down his chopsticks, he would look back up at you, scoffing to himself at your foolish inquiry.

"those small, annoying humans that require too much attention for their own good? no thank you, i have better things to attend to."

he says, focusing on the meal before him. but his thoughts soon get the best of him. and now that he thinks about it, he will need an heir eventually. and not only that, but what would you be like? as a mother specifically. you would require more attention than most of the time. which was something he secretly enjoyed indulging in, despite his negative reasoning towards infants. how would you look?

you would be more swollen than usual, you stomach would grow larger by day, your breasts will most definitely become more full by the day. the bigger picture, which was you, enticed him in a way. something about seeing you round with his child really had his head going.

and so thats how you ended up here, you knees tightly locked against your stomach, as sukuna absolutely plows into your already stuffed cunt.

this was the seventh time? eighth time? at this point, you couldn't keep track. but he had came wayyyy too many times more than an average man should be able to. it was excruciating, really, the whimpers leaving your mouth, his hands bringing your knees closer to your chest with every move of his hips.

his seed was leaking out of you, glop by glop, dripping down your bottom even more, as he kept going harder and rougher. splashes of your juices paired with his cum stained the bed, the squelching of your pussy becoming deafening with every smack of his heavy balls against the rim of your ass. and the tight grip he had on your locks wasn't helping his case.

"hah, you're gonna give your king his offspring? yeah? r' you gonna be a good little mother f'me? make me an heir?"

he asks, your head barely able to focus on anything other than trying to stay sane. you felt sooo full, but this apparently wasn't enough for sukuna, or his heavy urges to breed your sloppy cunt. you nod eagerly, not wanting him to go any harder than he already has. but with the way he kept abusing your womb, it seemed like you were enjoying it, as sukuna relishes in your facial expression, your eyes rolling back, your mouth hung open wide enough to stuff two of his free fingers in.

"you'd be such a good mother, so obedient too. you wanted to rile me up, didn't you? i'll give you what you want, woman."

moaning into his fingers, you swirl your tongue around his digits, making him hum contently. you try to focus your vision onto his eyes, but the way he pushed his chest further into yours, had you practically cross eyed. hitting a new angle, you felt yourself completely let go, officially adding onto your list of orgasms you had previously had that night.

he released his fingers from your mouth, a coat of your saliva stringing upon release. he ceases to pull out of you, instead letting himself nuzzle nicely into your warmth, releasing yet again inside of you, earning a whine of complaint on your behalf. he playfully slaps your cheek with his wet hand, trailing it down to your pussy, playing in the ring of his semen around his cock. you squirm slightly, as you watch him then bring his cum coated fingers up to your mouth, pushing them back inside your mouth, making you taste his seed, some of his cum pooling around your lips.

"does that taste good? i bet it does, since you seem to love my seed so much. i cant wait to see you so full, besides from right now, of course."

[ccazimi]

To Be Human...

cw: kitsune reader x trueform sukuna, femreader, heian era childhood au, fluff, angst, mentions of blood/violence/death, non-sexual nudity, a little bit of smut (inappropriate usage of sukuna's stomach tongue)

wc: 8k

a/n: first time writing sth like this so im kinda nervous :P listened to zombie by the cranberries on repeat hehe

He’s only around ten or eleven when he finds you.

Your inky fur gleams in the pale light of the moon as you lay there, the bottom half of your body pinned under a large stone.

The lax tripwire attests to what has happened — you’ve been caught under a hunter’s deadfall trap. The leaves and dirt have been messily disarrayed around you, evidence you’d tried your best to escape until you’d given up.

Now you lay there, eyes glassy and chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as you await whatever fate has in store for you — likely a hunter coming in the morning to skin you and turn you into a pelt for nobles.

You don’t give any sign of acknowledgement as the four armed boy approaches you except for the slightest twitch of one of your ears, and Sukuna knows its bad based on your lack of reaction alone.

Sukuna kneels and looks at the state of your body under the rock. He can’t see much but he can smell the blood tinging the air.

Stupid creature, he thinks, it’s almost deserved for falling into such a dumb trap.

But still with a sigh he tries to move the rock.

It barely budges but that slight movement makes you whine faintly.

You’re lucky it only caught your hindlegs — anywhere else and you would’ve died on impact.

And so he stands, lifts his fingers, and—

“Dismantle.”

Instantly the large stone is diced and falls apart, a few falling on your body, but none large enough to do further damage.

It takes you a moment to realize the pressure pinning you down has been removed, and when you do, you try to move.

The most you can do is slightly drag your mangled lower body by pulling yourself along with your front paws, and even that much seems to be a struggle for you.

Sukuna thinks you look so pathetic like this that he steps forwards and crouches to lay his fingers on the fur matted with blood.

You flinch and look back, but there’s not much you can do in your current condition, even as a warmth begins to flow from his touch, spreading across your flesh and building till it feels like a searing burn.

He huffs and holds you down as you yelp in agony and begin to writhe about. “Just stay still, I’m trying to help you.”

And just as you’re about to bend back and bite him, the pain is gone.

All of it.

Tentatively you stand, confirming that all of your wounds have been healed, bone and flesh mended together.

Sukuna steps back, expecting you to run away now that you’re able to do so.

But instead you just stand, staring at him with those dark soulful eyes.

He frowns at you. “What? You can go now. Shoo.”

Sukuna feels a little agitated at the way you’re staring at him, possible even a little self-conscious as though he’s being stared at by another person.

Instead, you sit before laying down fully, resting your head on your paws as you look up at him.

“Dumb mongrel.” He mutters, deciding he’s done with this, and turns away ready to move on.

He continues walking along in the forest, but not even a minute later and he hears the softest noise behind him.

He stops and turns to find you silently following him.

Sukuna crosses both pairs of his arms. “Leave. I’m not your mother.”

You make no signs of doing so, so he gives up and continues along, choosing to simply ignore you following him.

Eventually he finds a suitable tree with a hollow and decides it’s good enough to sleep in for the night.

He settles down, opening the light hemp sack he’s carrying to take out some dried meat and nibble on it.

There’s not much left, but he’s used to the hunger.

You follow suit, laying down a few feet in front of him. Sukuna half expects you to beg for food but you don’t, just laying there.

He squints.

Even in this dim light he can make out the structure of your skeleton, poking through your gaunt frame.

You’re starving, just like him.

Fuck it.

Against his better judgement he tears the piece of meat he’s eating in half and throws a portion to you, where it lands by your nose.

The movement catches your eyes and you sniff it cautiously before inhaling the entire thing in one go.

When morning comes, you’re gone.

Sukuna isn’t surprised — you got what you needed from him and left when he had nothing more to offer. He would’ve done the same himself.

That day he searches unsuccessfully for some game, and when night comes there’s nothing to show for his efforts. So he settles back down to sleep so that he can conserve his energy, or at least to distract him from the constant pit in his stomach.

The next day his luck is the same, and like the night before he once again prepares to sleep with an empty stomach.

A bit later, he hears it — shuffling within the undergrowth.

He sits up, raising his hand, ready to attack whatever’s about to show itself.

But he isn’t prepared for what actually does come — a black fox holding a dead rabbit in its mouth.

Sukuna can hardly believe what’s happening as you come up to him and drop the carcass at his feet. It seems fresh.

He doesn’t say anything but when he cooks and hungrily eats the rabbit, he gives half of it to you.

Later that day he finds you playing with a small pearlescent white ball that you seemingly got from nowhere.

He knows then what you are — likely a rather young one judging by the fact that you didn’t seem so strong and couldn’t shapeshift yet, but a fox spirit nonetheless.

Weeks pass, and he grows accustomed to your presence. You follow him everywhere, shadowing his every move. Even when you vanish—sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for an entire day—you always return. Often with small game clenched between your teeth, a silent offering at his feet.

If he eats, you eat. If he doesn’t, you both endure the hunger together.

The first time you come back injured is after one of your longer disappearances. You limp into his sight, a chicken dangling from your jaws—an arrow lodged deep in your flank.

And still, you make it back to him, staggering but determined, dropping the bird at his feet before finally collapsing onto your good side.

Only then does he realize how you’ve been getting the livestock. You’ve been stealing from villages. A death sentence.

In times like these, even a starving thief would be hunted down without mercy.

“No more.” His voice is sharp as he presses a hand to your side, pinning you down. You yelp as he rips the arrow free. “They’ll kill you.”

The scent of your blood is sharp in the freezing air. But then his palm flares with heat, and in a single burst of power, the wound vanishes—sealed as if it had never been there.

Months pass. The air turns bitter, the trees skeletal, and game becomes harder than ever to find. Food dwindles. Even the smallest scraps are a battle to obtain.

And still, whenever there is something to eat, he shares it with you.

The nights grow relentlessly cold, and soon your arrangement shifts. You begin curling up beside him as he sleeps—sometimes pressed against him, sometimes sprawled on top of him, clinging to whatever warmth his body provides. He doesn’t push you away.

Starvation forces his hand. There is no choice but to move closer to civilization, to raid villages in search of food. You assist, of course—darting through the shadows, quick and unseen.

More than once, these raids end in blood. Villagers fight back. Some die. More than once, you and Sukuna barely escape with your own lives—sometimes without even a morsel to show for it, because the common folk are just as starved as you.

Yet still, you remain by his side.

Finally, winter passes, and the plum blossoms bloom to herald another year of survival.

It should be easier to find food now that the cold has receded, but early spring is the cruelest season—the time when game remains scarce, crops have yet to sprout, and the last of the winter rations have run out.

Even raiding villages yields little, and hunger begins to loom like a specter. You both find yourselves resorting to anything you can find—grubworms, grasshoppers, crickets—desperate scraps to stave off the gnawing emptiness.

Despite the harshness of this life, it’s easier to forget the hunger when you’re together. The small moments of shared mischief, the absurdity of it all, make the suffering feel distant, if only for a fleeting second.

He doesn’t understand the first time it happens, how, despite walking straight ahead, he ends up back at the very same tree he started from. He’s sure he’s not going in circles. Right?

Then the thought strikes him, and he glances at you—sitting innocently, looking up at him with wide eyes.

And he knows.

“You.”

His suspicion is confirmed when you burst into high-pitched laughter, your tail swishing with glee as his glare sharpens.

But it’s fine. He finds his own ways to bother you.

He quickly learns that you absolutely hate having your head patted, and the longer strokes of his hand along your fur are even worse—especially when he adds, “I think you might have fleas…”

When he tugs on one of your whiskers, you nip him in annoyance, your teeth flashing sharp in the dim light. He can’t help but laugh at the frustration you so clearly wear.

And Sukuna learns his lesson when you cackle throughout the night, refusing to let him sleep, your giddy laughter echoing in the still air.

During moments of quiet, he hones his cursed techniques, while you entertain yourself with that shiny little ball of yours. He finds it almost comical how obsessed you are with it.

But the real trouble starts when he snatches it from you and tosses it into a bush, teasing, “Fetch it like a dog.”

You retaliate instantly, a wave of vertigo crashing over him so violently that he crumples to the ground, unable to stand for minutes.

Sukuna grumbles under his breath, his head spinning, hating when you mess with his mind.

And still, the young boy harbors an intrinsic belief that he is your protector. It’s an instinct, perhaps, that keeps him tethered to the last vestiges of his humanity. Little does he know, it is you who considers yourself his guardian.

So when that fated day arrives, and you hear the band of sorcerers and their tracking dogs, the ones sent to hunt down the four-armed creature who’s been terrorizing the villages—stealing food, killing—you are flooded with panic. Not for yourself, but for him.

Lately, his presence has drawn more and more attention. The bounty on Sukuna’s head has put a target on him, and several groups of sorcerers are scouring the land for him. It’s only a matter of time before they catch up.

You feel their cursed energy before you see them, smell the dogs before you hear them. Instantly, you leap onto the sleeping boy, shaking him awake, flooding his mind with urgency, pushing him to move faster.

Sukuna is strong, unnaturally so for his age and circumstances, but he is still a malnourished child. You doubt he stands a chance against a group of sorcerers, specially trained and sent by the capital itself to hunt him down.

The cursed energy suffocates the air, thick and oppressive, and while Sukuna stirs beside you, one of the dogs finds your scent. Its bark shatters the silence, alerting the others to your location.

He scrambles to his feet, but something sharp slices through the air, embedding itself into the tree with a sickening thud, narrowly missing his head.

The cursed weapon’s affliction spreads like an ugly bruise across the trunk, and soon, the men emerge, bursting into the clearing with cold determination.

Sukuna runs instinctively, as do you, but more cursed projectiles whiz past you, and you know—there’s no way both of you will make it out.

Another hiss, and you feel it—agony in your hind leg. The curse digs into your flesh, poisoning it, embedding deep into your bone.

In your mind, you thank Sukuna for these last two years, for saving your life, for giving it meaning. Because now, you know without a doubt, it’s over.

Sukuna runs, believing you’re still right behind him. An illusion that you’ve spun.

You’ve stopped. He sprints ahead, his feet crackling over dead leaves, unaware of the fate that has already befallen you. You turn, facing the sorcerers. They see not the injured fox, but a weakened Sukuna, collapsed on the ground.

The years pass, and Ryomen Sukuna becomes the monster the world had declared him to be from the moment of his birth. His title as the strongest is solidified after he obliterates clans of the most powerful sorcerers in the land. Fear and awe grip the people, and they kneel before him—not out of reverence, but to avoid his wrath.

Sukuna feels no remorse. Not when he stands amidst the dead, surrounded by limp corpses and the stench of blood. Not when the pleading voices of his victims are cut short by a swift, merciless slash. Remorse is for humans, and it was decided long ago that he was not one of them.

Yet, in the midst of the carnage, there are moments—a fleeting sense that he is being watched, a slight unease that causes him to hesitate, just for a fraction of a second, before he cleaves through another innocent.

Sometimes, as he sets villages ablaze, he freezes, thinking he glimpsed the silhouette of a black fox slipping through the smoke, its movements graceful among the burning ruins. It vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Tricks of the mind, perhaps some remaining stain of his humanity.

Years later when he sleeps at night within the abandoned estate he’s settled in with Uraume, he occasionally dreams of a black fox playing with a small white ball.

They are the only dreams he ever has.

Then, one day, the woman appears at his estate, asking if she can stay. She tells him she’s been exiled from her village, with no place left to go, certain that she’ll starve if left to wander alone.

Sukuna eyes you with careful assessment. There’s something in your gaze—a quiet resilience, an unfamiliar comfort—and despite everything, he agrees.

It’s strange. Really, he should’ve killed you on the spot, or at the very least, kept you as a potential meal for later. But there’s something about the way you look at him, like you’re not a stranger but a distant echo of something he’s lost, something that feels almost like home.

But he’s still Sukuna, and you’re still a random woman. So he lets you stay, under the condition that you help around the estate—gathering firewood, tending to small chores, and foraging for food in the forest.

Over time, he gets used to your presence, though he doesn’t acknowledge it out loud.

Yet, there are strange things about you that he can’t ignore.

For one, you eat with no sense of decorum, devouring your food like you’ve been starved for days. And every time he eats something, you look at him with pleading eyes, asking for a taste of whatever it is.

Your reaction to his taste for human meat also stands out. Where others would be horrified, you remain unfazed, even uncomfortably comfortable with it, despite the fact that you won’t eat it yourself.

Something about you doesn’t seem quite right, but Sukuna can’t put his finger on it.

Then there are the little oddities—like how he starts losing things more often. Little things at first: a knife misplaced here, a thought forgotten there. He walks into a room and then forgets why he came. It’s disorienting, and the more he tries to track it, the more elusive it becomes.

And your sleeping habits… They’re just as strange. You nap at odd hours, usually finding yourself curled up in places he wouldn’t expect—on the rooftop, in the middle of the moya, even once right in the doorway, where he nearly trips over you.

Though you’ve been harmless enough, there’s something unsettling about you—or perhaps it’s the way you make him feel. It’s like he knows you, even though he’s certain he’s never seen you before the day you showed up on his doorstep.

One day, while you’re gone foraging in the forest, Sukuna finds himself walking into the eastern pavilion that’s become your chamber. He’s not sure what he’s searching for, but as he looks around, he discovers some dried fish, likely the ones Uraume had been searching for a few days ago, and a set of scrolls of his that had gone missing without his notice.

A thief, it seems. Nothing too surprising; it’s a small problem, but it’s one he’ll have to deal with.

He’s about to leave when something catches his eye—a flash of white, glimmering from within the folds of your bedding. Curiosity pricks at him as he steps closer. There, nestled among the fabric, is a small ball.

And suddenly, everything clicks into place.

You finally return in the late afternoon, laying out your haul—persimmons, chestnuts, a few ginkgo nuts, acorns, matsutake mushrooms, and lotus root.

Sukuna watches, humming thoughtfully before asking, “Anything you wish to tell me?”

You pause, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. “Anything you wish to hear?”

He simply stares at you, making you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. After a long moment, you finally relent. “Okay, fine! I took some of the dried ayu—I just get hungry at night sometimes…”

“Anything else?”

You huff. “I took a few of your scrolls too. I was bored. And yes, I drank some of your sake, but it was just a small taste, I swear!”

Sukuna frowns, the realization dawning on him. That’s why he’d been running out of sake so quickly—he thought he’d developed a drinking problem. He shakes his head in exasperation but holds out a small white ball to you.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for that!” Your eyes light up, and you lunge to snatch it from his hand, but he raises it just out of reach.

“Are you serious? Do you have nothing to say for yourself, fox?”

You look up at him, the playful glimmer in your eyes. In that instant, Sukuna realizes what you’ve been doing—playing a game all along, waiting for him to figure out who you were.

“Do you think this is funny?”

You grin, and Sukuna finds himself wanting to be angry. But the truth is, there’s something else bubbling inside him—something he can’t shake. He wants answers more than anything else.

“How are you not dead?” he asks, his voice softer now, and a flicker of old memories rises to the surface. Memories of you, the fox who had saved his life, who had stayed loyal when others would have abandoned him. Compassion, something he had rarely received from anyone.

It stirs something in him—a weakness he thought buried, a lingering part of his humanity he had long tried to abandon. But that thought is fleeting, buried again beneath his frustration.

“A magician can’t reveal their secrets now, can they?”

Sukuna fixes you with a stern look, his expression hardening again. “Fine, keep your secrets. But you won’t be getting your stupid little ball back.”

“Hey!” You glare at him in indignation. “What if I tell you whatever else you want?”

He agrees, and so you begin to explain. You tell him of your desire to live as a human, about how, when you learned to shapeshift, you sought out a life within the villages.

But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how you fit yourself into their world, kitsune are not human, and the forces of nature demand that they keep moving—transitory, untouchable. It is not in a kitsune’s nature to stay in one place for long, especially amidst human society. So, one way or another, you were always forced to leave, wandering from village to village, never able to stay.

Sukuna listens, but there’s a strange disconnection in his gaze. He doesn’t understand your desire to be human. He scoffs when he learns that kitsune see humans as the superior form, and he can’t help but mock your longing.

You, however, simply smile, not bothering to argue. You know him—his rejection of his humanity, his dismissal of what makes him human. While you don’t share his sentiment, you understand it in a way he may never realize.

You don’t say anything, just smile softly when he mocks your desire to be human, a soft acceptance in your eyes.

Sukuna begins to regret taking in a nocturnal creature, for you become restless at night. Eventually, you decide that it will be him who bears the burden of your boredom.

So, there you are in the dead of night, sneaking into Sukuna’s room, which—unfortunately for him—is warmer than your own. You crouch beside him, leaning in close.

This might just be the worst trick you’ve played on him, though you’d never admit it. There are no limitations in the realm of dreams, after all. And even more unfortunate for Sukuna? Your creativity knows no bounds.

You have no idea whether he was dreaming before, but as of right now, Sukuna’s been shrunk down to the size of a caterpillar, trapped in a jar by you, and shaken vigorously until his eyes shoot open and he wakes abruptly.

He stares at you, sitting innocently by his body, a sweet smile on your face. And he immediately knows exactly what’s happening.

“Bad dreams?”

Sukuna’s glare is sharp as a blade. “I should’ve killed you the night I found you pinned under that stupid rock.”

You grin, completely unbothered. “I’m taking that as a yes.”

He glowers, exasperated. “What the hell do you want, mongrel?”

“I’m bored.”

Sukuna groans in frustration. “Go and chop the vegetables for breakfast or something.”

The next morning, Sukuna is less than pleased when Uraume nervously informs him that all the vegetables have been minced so finely they’re practically paste.

After a few nights of this, Sukuna gives up trying to come up with things for you to do. Whenever you wake him in the middle of the night, he knows what’s coming—your malicious compliance.

So the next time you go to wake him, he shifts over, leaving an empty space on his bedding. “Get in and sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“I know. Just get in and try.”

Sukuna hopes that having another warm body beside you will somehow help lull you into sleep. But you just huff, reluctantly crawling in next to him on the silk-lined shitone that smells faintly of smoke and musk—his scent. It stirs something in you, but you push it aside, focusing on trying to sleep, wondering if he’s asleep.

Sukuna thinks he’s finally found a way to subdue you, but then he feels it—a gentle touch, your fingers tracing his face, brushing against the markings on his skin.

You’ve always been too comfortable with him, touching him out of curiosity, with nothing better to do. He tries to ignore it, but when your fingers trace the edges of his mask, he growls, his hand shooting out to grip your wrist and yank it away.

“Do you mind? Go to sleep, brat.”

But it’s too late. Now, your curiosity has been piqued, and the questions begin.

“Does that side of your face hurt?”

“No.”

“What about your tattoos?”

“What about them?”

“Did they hurt?”

“No.”

Your curiosity doesn’t let up. “What happens if you eat two different things, one with your normal mouth and the other with your stomach mouth? Do the flavors blend together?”

Sukuna makes a noise of frustration, more exasperated than ever. “I liked you better as a fox, you know? Less talking.”

Living with you is certainly not easy. You torment him at every opportunity, badger him for his food, lie about completely nonsensical things for no reason at all. Sukuna’s caught you more than once trying to convince Uraume to team up against him, and let’s not forget the time you made Uraume cry by telling him Sukuna planned to eat the young boy.

Sukuna had to step in, reassuring Uraume with a dry smirk that if he were going to eat anyone, it would be you.

You try to show your apologies in your own way—by leaving piles of dead bodies at the front of the estate the next morning. These are wandering travelers you lured into the forest, then deceived into stabbing each other to death.

It’s almost comical to Sukuna. Here you are, aspiring to be human, yet your moral framework is... questionable at best. It doesn’t take him long to piece together why you’ve been repeatedly exiled from the villages you’ve stayed in.

Take, for example, the time you tried to prank him with a tea made from aconite tubers. At first, he thinks it’s an assassination attempt. Then, he realizes you honestly didn’t see the danger in it. You were “pretty sure” it wouldn’t fully kill him.

Almost… pretty sure.

There are also times when you just vanish randomly from the estate, only to return with “gifts” — though most of them are, at best, bizarre, and at worst, useless. Rare herbs, a finely crafted knife, a silk sash… all of these Sukuna assumes you stole from some village. However, it’s not long before he checks back on these “gifts” only to find that many times they were just illusions—turning out to be nothing more than piles of dead leaves.

More often than not, though, you don’t even try to hide the absurdity of the “presents.” He’ll wake up to find fishbones scattered in front of his door, a single slipper that isn’t his, or even a live bird flapping around in his room like some sort of wild, unnecessary spectacle.

Then there was that time you appeared out of nowhere, holding a rock with the most solemn expression.

“For you,” you said, handing it to him with careful deliberation.

Sukuna stares at it. A rock. Just an ordinary, dusty gray rock. He looks at you, deadpan. “Why would I want this?”

You beam brightly. “It reminded me of you.”

Sukuna stares back at the rock in his hand. No unique markings, no rare qualities. Just a mundane rock. Your thought process is a complete mystery to him.

He yells at you to get lost but when you sneak into Sukuna’s room later to snoop through his stuff you find the rock stored in his cabinet.

Dinner time begins as usual with you, Sukuna, and Uraume each settling into your respective meals. You’re always the first to finish—no surprise there.

As soon as your bowl is empty, your eyes immediately lock onto Sukuna’s. He glares at you, bringing his bowl closer to his mouth. “No.”

You put on your best pleading face, batting your lashes with exaggerated sweetness. “Just one bite, please?”

Sukuna eyes you suspiciously. “It’s human.”

“No, it’s not,” you argue, “I asked Uraume, and he said it’s deer.”

Uraume chokes on his food, eyes widening in panic as Sukuna turns his gaze to him. Uraume quickly looks away, hoping to avoid the wrath he knows is coming.

Sukuna turns back to you, glaring. “Stop begging, like a greedy mongrel.”

Uraume keeps his gaze to the ground, shrinking back in preparation for what’s coming next, as it always does.

“Don’t CALL ME THAT.”

“Then quit acting like it.” To further annoy you, Sukuna casually sets his chopsticks down, then proceeds to dump the entire contents of his bowl into the maw on his abdomen, swallowing it whole.

You stare, your mouth hanging open in disbelief. “What the hell? You can’t do that, it’s cheating.”

He grins, the kind of grin that says he’s enjoying every second of this. “Mad, mutt?”

In your anger, you lunge at him tackling him to the ground while he just laughs at you. And the great Ryomen Sukuna, known for destroying villages and massacring innocents, lets you, fighting back with maybe five percent of his power just to let you have your fun.

At some point, you’ve decided that anything of his is yours too—his food, his space, and especially his bed. It’s become a nightly ritual for you to “move in” to his room, claiming your room is too cold to sleep in. Sukuna knows better than to argue, especially since he’s aware that you barely sleep anyway.

“Get out,” he mutters, his voice laced with exhaustion. “I know you’re just going to bother me instead of actually sleeping.”

“I won’t! See how sleepy I look?” you counter, feigning tiredness with an exaggerated yawn and wide, glassy eyes.

Sukuna eyes you, the expression on your face a far cry from the exhaustion you’re pretending to have. With a resigned sigh, he shifts over to make room for you, though the action seems more reluctant than welcoming. Perhaps a part of him, deep down, enjoys the warmth of your presence—your body pressed against his while he tries to sleep, even if it means enduring your never-ending stream of nonsensical chatter.

And, as predicted, the moment you settle in, you begin—

“Your body would be the perfect meat farm, did you know that?”

There it is. Sukuna exhales sharply, already dreading where this is going. “What? Actually, don’t elaborate—“

“I’d cut chunks out of you whenever you’re hungry since you’d just heal up again, right?” You’re practically gleaming at the thought, unfazed by his annoyance.

Sukuna, desperately trying to ignore your incessant ramblings, stays silent, hoping it will dissuade you. It doesn’t.

“Oh, and that big juicy tongue down there... you can grow that back too, right? Because I think that would be my favorite part of you, slow-cooked and simmered in some br—”

Sukuna’s patience snaps. “Enough. Keep talking and I’ll cut out your tongue and eat it myself.”

You only grin wider. “Oh, what, so it’s only okay when you cannibalize people?”

Weeks turn into months, and somewhere along the way, the nights spent in Sukuna’s bed become something more. Each time, you find yourself sleeping closer to him, your limbs winding around his, your head resting against his chest, your nails softly tracing the surface of his scalp in the dark. It happens without words, but the comfort of it feels so natural, so undeniable.

But as soon as the sun rises, the two of you fall back into your usual roles. The playful tormenting, the biting remarks, the petty battles. Not a single word is spoken about the closeness shared in the night—there's a mutual, unspoken agreement between you both to pretend it doesn’t happen.

It’s as if it never existed, just another fleeting moment in the chaos of your lives.

Sukuna swears he doesn’t care about you—no matter how many nights you stay gone from the estate, no matter how many times he finds himself checking the door for your return. He tells himself he doesn’t care, not even when he finally leaves the estate to search nearby villages, convinced that you’ve gotten yourself caught stealing again.

And of course, he finds you, tied up in the center of a village, your face smeared with ash as a mark of your supposed crime. He doesn’t hesitate for a moment, razing the entire village to the ground in a fiery, brutal display of wrath.

You watch through it all, your gaze steady and knowing. You don’t beg for mercy, nor do you cheer him on as he tears the place apart. You’re indifferent, unfazed by his fury as if you’ve seen it all before, and perhaps in some twisted way, you have.

He drags you back to the estate, more irritated than anything, and when he finally reaches the safety of his home, he grabs you by the arm, his voice low and stern. “You’re not running away again, got it? No more stealing from villages.”

He expects you to throw a snarky comment back at him, to tease or mock him, as you always do. But this time, there’s nothing. You’re silent, your eyes fixed on him, an unreadable look on your face, like you’re studying him, trying to understand the contradictions that make him who he is.

It’s a gaze he knows all too well, the same kind of observance that followed him during all his years of killing and maiming, of playing the role of the monster.

He crosses his arms, fingers tapping impatiently as he narrows his gaze at you, expecting something—anything—from you. “Speak, fox.”

You tilt your head slightly.

“It’s rather curious... when you act like the monster they say you are… I see something so undeniably human in you.”

Sukuna’s expression tightens, and he clicks his tongue in frustration, dismissing you with his usual indifference. “I’m not in the mood for your riddles. Next time, I’ll just leave you to rot.”

But despite his words, something shifts in the air between you. His eyes linger on yours for a moment too long, and for the briefest of moments, the monster he tries so hard to be seems less certain, less absolute.

But he won’t admit it.

Not to you. Not to himself.

Later that night, Sukuna jolts awake to a warm weight pressing against his chest. His vision clears, sleep fading fast, and he finds you straddling him, keen eyes peering down at him. He meets your stare with a glare of his own.

"Can I help you?"

You don’t answer.

Because how do you tell him that despite his name being spoken like a curse, despite the terror that follows him like a shadow, he looks more human in sleep than those who recoil at the mere mention of him?

With the brazier’s dim glow casting flickering light over his face, the xyloid mask embedded in his skin, and the dark ink slashing across his jaw, he should look like the monster they say he is.

But he doesn’t.

So instead, you grin from above him. “No. I’m sleeping here tonight. You’re quite comfortable.”

Sukuna clicks his tongue. "Tch. I could be carved from stone, and you’d still say that."

Yet two of his hands find your hips—not forceful, just firm enough to keep you there.

You sigh, sinking down, the soft curves of your body molding against the solid planes of his. The steady heat of him seeps into you, his scent—smoke and something distinctly him—wrapping around you like a soothing weight.

For a moment, neither of you speak. Then, another one of his hands lift, fingers brushing through your hair, tucking away a stray lock behind your ear. His touch lingers a moment longer than necessary.

"Tsk. Stupid thing. You got lucky today that they didn’t just kill you outright."

"I’m sure they wouldn’t have. It was only petty thievery."

"You underestimate the cruelty of humans," he murmurs. "What were you even trying to steal?"

"Red bean rice."

You don’t add that it wasn’t just for you. That you had gone to steal sake for him, knowing he was running low.

Sukuna clicks his tongue in disapproval. "Red bean rice? Really? You could’ve just asked, and I would’ve gotten it for you."

"You would’ve burned down the whole village trying to do so."

"I did that anyway. Could’ve at least gotten the rice."

"Well—"

A hand clamps over your mouth. "Just keep quiet if you won’t even admit your mistake."

You only huff against his palm, nuzzling closer as his grip shifts, fingertips trailing absently down your spine.

The silence between you is fragile, the kind neither of you wants to break—not when his touch is this soft, not when his breaths are this deep, rising and falling beneath you.

You’re warm all over—your cheeks, your ears, your blood, your lips. And they only grow hotter when his fingers ghost over the front panel of your kosode, slipping into the lining but going no further.

They wait.

A silent bid for permission.

You swallow, reaching up to curl your fingers around his, tugging at the fabric in quiet invitation. Neither of you looks at the other as he slowly peels the garment from your shoulders.

It falls away, exposing the bare plane of your sternum. The night air whispers over your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth between you.

Then, his hands find you—not lewdly, but reverently.

His touch is slow, unhurried, mapping you with a careful kind of curiosity, gliding over your curves, lingering at the swell of your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples in a teasing caress, making them stiffen under his touch and pulling the breath from your lungs.

Drowsiness creeps at the edges of your mind, weighing down on your eyelids, but before sleep can take you, your fingers drift lower, tracing the band of his hakama. You tug—just slightly, a wordless request.

He obliges.

One set of arms holds you close as the others tug the fabric away, leaving nothing between you but heat and skin.

His hands roam lower, fingers pressing into the soft curve of your hips.

You breathe him in, letting the moment fold around you, silent and unspoken, like something neither of you dare name.

And, wrapped in his warmth, you finally slip into sleep.

The nights have settled into a quiet routine—skin pressed against skin, a shared warmth beneath the covers. It’s a delicate kind of intimacy, one that exists only in the dark, when the teasing and bickering of the day give way to something softer, quieter.

Lately, though, you’ve found a new way to amuse yourself— your teeth.

During the day, you nip at any exposed inch of his skin before scampering away, reveling in the way his irritation simmers beneath the surface. A graze along his forearm, a sharp bite to his shoulder—it’s a game, one you always win.

But tonight, your mischief doesn’t settle even when both of you are undressed, bodies relaxed into the familiar comfort of each other. Instead, you straddle his torso, fingers tracing idle patterns along his chest as his eyes drift shut.

And because you’re you, you lean down and nip his cheek.

Sukuna’s lower eyes crack open, glowing faintly in the dim light of the brazier. He exhales sharply, clearly unimpressed.

“Cut that shit out, brat. You’re fucking insufferable.”

You hum, unbothered. The restless energy in your limbs doesn’t fade, and the only thing that seems to relieve it is the press of your teeth against his skin. So you bite him again.

A low growl rumbles from his throat. His fingers twitch against the sheets. **“**Do that again and see what happens.”

There’s a challenge in his voice, the kind that sends something electric down your spine. You grin. And then you do it again.

The response is immediate—before you can pull back, two of his hands shoot out, one tangling into your hair, the other pressing firmly against the nape of your neck, holding you in place.

The last two grip your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh there, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you still.

“Sukuna—” you start, but you don’t get to finish.

He shifts beneath you, tilting his head, and then—warm lips press against yours, firm and deliberate.

You freeze.

And then you melt.

Your breath hitches as his mouth moves against yours, slow at first, testing, tasting. He parts your lips with ease, his tongue sweeping into warm wet cavern of your mouth, claiming every inch, every sound you make. His grip on you tightens as you kiss him back, heat curling low in your stomach.

It’s almost infuriating, how easily he turns the tables, how effortlessly he steals the air from your lungs. But you can’t bring yourself to care, not when you’re tangled in him like this, not when his hands are on your body like you belong to him.

And maybe in some way, you do, the same way he belongs to you.

You savor the taste of him, making out sloppily until amidst the heat you feel skin opening up from beneath where your core is pressed against his abdomen.

Before you can process what’s happening, something hot and dripping presses against your damp slit, and you buck your hips in surprise, yelping into his mouth.

You feel his lips stretch into a grin against yours, refusing to let you pull back for air as the large tongue languidly strokes your clit in teasing licks that send electric sparks shooting up your spine.

He takes the chance when you pant and moan softly to slide his tongue deeper into your open mouth, tangling your tongue with his as the one below parts your drenched folds and slips in, slithering into your tight channel before rubbing harshly against that one spongey area that makes your mind blank and whimper needily into his mouth.

He’s everywhere— invading your mouth, shoving his tongue so far down your throat you think he’s trying to taste your lungs while the muscle in your cunt pushes up even deeper till it’s nudging, lapping at the fleshy wall of your cervix.

You mewl, squirming and bucking your hips, feeling so impossibly full of his tongue, and he groans into your mouth as well at the taste of you all over — the flavor of your mouth along with the way he can feel your walls clenching around him below as he tongues the entrance to your cervix faster and more intensely like he’s trying to eat you from the inside.

Another hand grips one of your breasts somewhere along the way, squeezing and massaging the pliant flesh, rolling your nipple between his fingers, as he sinks his teeth into your lower lip and suddenly it’s all too much—

Your orgasm crashes over you, flooding your senses with ecstasy and the maw on his abdomen with a warm gush of your liquid seeping out of your walls as he continues to juice you, pushing against that sensitive spot and making the fluids continue to drip into his large mouth as he sucks on your tongue, hungrily swallowing all your moans and cries of pleasure.

And finally you still and his hold on you loosens, letting you break away with only a gossamer strand of saliva connecting your mouths that snaps as you look down at him with flushed cheeks, trying to come back to your senses.

He smirks deviously at your disarrayed state as one of his hands caresses your backside softly. “Who knew that was how to shut you up this entire time?”

You huff but lean back down, wrapping your arms around his neck as you press delicate, loving kisses into his skin, eventually falling asleep.

He holds you, trying not to let his hard-ons poke into you, content enough for now to simply embrace your satiated body and feel the warmth of your skin that seems to seep through the cracks within hardened muscle and flesh into his own heart.

The first dream comes that night.

You stand beneath an endless night sky, the cool air brushing against your skin. In the distance, a snow-white fox watches you, its fur glowing silver under the moonlight. It does not speak. It does not move. But its gaze is knowing—waiting.

Then, it turns and walks ahead, leaving behind a trail of faintly glowing pawprints. An unspoken invitation.

You do not follow.

The fox stops, blinking once—slow, understanding—before vanishing into the mist.

You wake with the certainty of what has happened.

You have wandered the mortal realm long enough, and finally Inari has found you.

The goddess calls you home, offers you ascension, a chance to become a true kitsune. A way to escape death—whatever fate awaits spirits who linger too long in the world of men.

But you don’t take it.

And the dreams continue.

Torii gates, endless in number, stretching into the mist, each a door to the path you refuse to take. A golden rice field under the full moon, shimmering—until the stalks wither beneath your touch. The chime of a shrine bell, growing louder as you step forward—then fading the moment you turn away.

Every night, the same quiet plea. And every night, you deny it.

Because no divine warmth, no promise of something greater, could ever compare to him.

To the way his hands rest on your hips. The way his lips ghost over your skin. The playful bickering, the teasing—things reserved for you alone. The flicker of something softer in his crimson eyes, fleeting but real.

Of course, he knows nothing of these dreams.

Nothing of the choice you’ve been given, and chosen to ignore.

Because you were never Inari’s to claim; you were bound to Sukuna since that day he found you as children.

You spend four years by his side, yet they slip through your fingers like grains of sand. You see him in his violence, in his carnage—just as you do in his quiet, in his stillness.

And soon, the whole country speaks his name in fear, his apotheosis complete—a cursed plague upon mankind.

Sukuna welcomes the title. He renounces his humanity, denies it so fervently that even you begin to wonder if he truly believes it.

"You’re human," you tell him once.

He scoffs.

Could a human kill like he does? Maim like he does? Look like him? No—there is nothing human about him. So he thinks.

But the universe disagrees. It still calls him human. And because he is human, you tempt fate by daring to stay.

You defy your own nature, forsaking it in exchange for something fleeting—a life with him. A human life, a simple life. One where mornings are filled with your teasing remarks, your relentless chatter as you wipe the blood from his skin, scolding him like he’s anything less than the calamity the world sees him as.

Sukuna doesn’t acknowledge it, not explicitly. But sometimes, in the quiet, he looks at you like you are something unknowable. Like you have seen a future he refuses to believe in.

He’s right.

You know your time with him is limited. You know the universe will not tolerate your defiance forever. You know, with certainty, that this life you have chosen will end in tragedy.

And yet, to you, it is worth it.

Even as the years pass, even as four beautiful years slip through your hands like water, you never regret it.

Not even when the universe finally comes to collect.

You wander out from the estate that day, but you return later than usual.

Sukuna waits. Then waits some more.

When night falls, he exhales sharply, annoyed, and finally resigns himself to search for you.

There’s a weighted feeling in his chest. A whisper in his bones. It unsettles him, but he shoves it down, replaces it with irritation. Focuses instead on how he’ll admonish you when he finds you.

Probably off doing something stupid, unaware of how late it’s gotten.

The night stretches on. He pushes through the forest, frustration mounting—until suddenly, it is gone.

Because finally, he finds it.

At the base of a towering cliff, a massive boulder sits still, unmoving. And beneath it—a pair of legs stick out.

The sharp, metallic scent of blood floods his senses, sinking deep into his marrow, making his own pulse hammer against his skull. A feeling he hasn’t known in years swells inside him.

Fear.

"DISMANTLE."

The boulder shatters into dust.

And the feeling in his gut—the one he’s been ignoring all day, all night, all his life—finally takes him under.

Your body lies there. Mangled. Crushed beyond recognition.

But he knows. Even if his mind refuses, even if he does not want to believe it—he knows the scent of your blood. Whether you are fox or human, you have always bled the same blood.

Still, he refuses to accept it.

This cannot be you.

Because whoever this corpse is—they are dead.

And you?

You are not dead.

You cannot be dead.

Yet the body lies still. The air smells faintly of urine. The muscles, emptied of life, have already gone limp.

But it isn’t you. It can’t be you.

So he tells himself it must be someone else. Some other poor soul.

Then, his gaze catches on something small—glistening under the moonlight, peeking through the dust and blood.

A small, white ball.

@onwinedarkseas i finally finished this!!

[zuzu-draws]

Just a pair of friendly sorcerers out on a stroll~

[nanamiskentos]

✶ 𝗪𝗛𝗬 𝗜𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗠𝗔𝗡 𝗟𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗗 ── ryomen sukuna (両面宿儺)

The first sign that something was off was the uncharacteristic silence. No footsteps, no grumblings of a medieval sorcerer wreaking havoc in the 21st century. Not even the crash of metal and cables to signify that SUKUNA had once again lost the fight to your little apartment's toaster, and resorted to eating the wiring.

"Sukuna?"

No answer either. That alone was enough to raise some alarm bells, for he was never this quiet.

You found him in the kitchen, crowded like an overgrown wildcat beside your cheap dining table, muttering to himself while trying to balance a massive bundle of wildflowers in one hand, and what looked like. . . a scroll?

You blink rapidly, "What, are you writing me a war declaration?"

Sukuna's russet eyes flick up, caught. His gruff expressions hardens, immediately defensive as if you had already accused him of something distasteful. Like that time you had hissed and scolded him for asking your local butcher for the freshest kills in the one and only time you had taken him grocery shopping with you.

Besides, how had he been aware that the meat merchant would have called the authorities on him? Didn't that puny man know that Sukuna singlehandedly vanquished the Emperor's army in Heian-Kyo, in the great summer of 794?

But now, Sukuna looks vaguely bored, "This is not for you."

You cross your arms, "Really? You're using my pens, I didn't even know you could read, let alone write."

Sukuna snarls, fingers tight around the very strained thin blue biro that promises to snap under the weight of his grasp, "It is an inferior modern implement."

"You're holding it upside down."

Sukuna scowls harder, and if you didn't know better and if you didn't have the King of Curses wrapped around your finger, you would assume he was trying to pin with you a glare to kill, "I was trying to surprise you."

"Oh my god, are you trying to be a romantic?" You're gaping, hand slapped over your mouth.

Sukuna stands up sharply, almost taking down your new light fixture from IKEA, as he snaps, "Trying? I am not trying. This is romantic. You're just too far removed from true elegance to understand."

"You put a dead pigeon next to the flowers."

"It is a symbolic offering."

"It's a health code violation, Sukuna."

"It shows my devotion."

"It shows I need to call pest control. You know that thing is a disease-carrier, right?"

Sukuna looks genuinely offended, "I went on a quest, woman. I climbbed your building's fire escape to gather the best wild herbs and flora that this macabre city has to offer –"

"That's a bunch of dandelions and one tulip."

"And a sprig of mint, you ungrateful fiend. I charmed the wise woman downstairs for her crops."

You think of your elderly downstairs neighbour, with her crabby attitude, sharp cane and stories of how things were so much better before the Soviets. You proceed to eye Sukuna with glistening, drooling stomach mouth, his four, thick arms, and ink winding over his face, "Somehow, I doubt that. Wait, what's that smell?"

Sukuna turns slowly, curtly giving you a look over his shoulder, "Nothing. Do not concern yourself."

Ah, but lo and behold. In the middle of your expensive non-stick pan, you eye a horribly charred steak, aggressively seasoned with cinnamon, soy sauce, and absurd helpings of instant coffee grounds.

"I heard women like food offerings during a courtship." And mind you, not a hint of shame in Sukuna's proud voice.

"This is what you nearly set my apartment on fire for?"

"Out of affection!"

Sukuna crosses all four arms, swathes of sheer muscle rippling as he does so, "Modern rituals are pointless. In my time, it was proper practice to compose poetry, and bring offerings. A verse beneath a maiden's window at night was a gift of the highest value."

"Is that why you were on my balcony yesterday, and I found a haiku written on spare receipts?"

Sukuna's withering frown deepens, carving into barely flushed skin, "You were the one complaining to that irritating friend of yours last week. How no-one ever does anything nice for you, and everyone has lovers but you. And you missed feeling chosen. So I chose you."

You ignore the traitorous thump! of your heart against your ribcage.

"And your friend, irritating, honestly with a voice like that, and a face so untrustworthy, how one even puts up with that is a question that I wonder at, and –"

"Sukuna."

"Your friend said that if a man does not appear with both flowers and adequate food, he is not serious nor worthy of one's time." Sukuna gestures, as one would point out to a child, to the botanical massacre and blackened meat, "I adapted."

Now your heart is doing traitorous, little twists.

"You're serious?"

Sukuna gives you a look that someone would give to an annoying bug buzzing around a room, bored and avoidant, but the choppy spikes of his blush-pink hair do little to hide the flush darkening on the tips of his ears, "I do not do things halfway."

"So the live cricket in the bouquet. . . ?"

"Represents vitality. Even the village oaf would know that."

You suddenly wonder whether you should flip the gas off from your still searing stove, sending plumes of blackened smoke to stick to your kitchen tiles, "Oh, fuck. My landlord is gonna' kill me."

Sukuna trails after you, a bite of anger in his voice, as he continues to prattle behind you like a large shadow, "What is a landlord? Why is another man lording your land? I am perfectly capable of agricultural management, I had an estate, you know."

NOTE: for the supreme sukuna-wife of my heart @creamflix ❤️

[anglbunny]

Safe word ♡ ryomen sukuna

cw: smut mdni, use of safe word, soft sukuna, based on this request

You’re not sure how long he’s been fucking you. Time’s gone blurry—melted into moans and muscle spasms, fingers digging into sheets, your body arching under his like instinct.

You're soaking wet. Wrung out. Shaking. And still, Sukuna doesn't stop.

"Look at you," he pants, watching the way your tits bounce with every brutal thrust. "All fucked dumb and you’re still takin' it like a good little slut."

Your mouth drops open—another moan spilling out, high and wrecked. Your thighs tremble on either side of his hips, limp now from being held up so long. You can barely move.

But you love it. Every second.

You were made to be spoiled like this. A princess, built to be touched, worshipped, ruined.

He presses his palm over your belly, smirking when he feels the outline of his cock moving inside.

“Such a perfect fucking body,” he growls. “Takes me so well. You were made for this, weren’t you? All mine.”

You nod. Nodding feels easier than speaking.

Your body jerks with the rhythm of his thrusts. Your wrists are pinned above your head. His other hand is tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make your eyes water.

But suddenly—it’s too much.

The moment creeps up fast. You’ve come too many times. Your body can’t handle more.

Your lips move without thinking—

“Rose.”

Your safeword.

Sukuna freezes.

Immediately.

Silence.

His hands loosen. His hips pull back. The feral, dominant glint in his eyes is gone in an instant—replaced by something soft. Something vulnerable.

"Shit—hey, hey." His voice lowers, gentle. Concern slipping into every syllable. “You okay, sweetheart? Look at me.”

You blink up at him. Overwhelmed, but safe. Still gasping.

“I-I’m okay. Just… needed to stop.”

His hands are already moving. Untying your wrists. Stroking your cheeks. His lips kiss your forehead, then your shoulder, then your temple.

"Good girl,” he whispers. “You did so good telling me. So proud of you.”

He grabs a blanket, covers you up, and lies beside you—pulling you against his chest like you're made of glass.

His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“You were perfect. You’re always perfect. I got you now, yeah? Just breathe. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod into his neck, tears slipping down your cheeks—not from pain, but from how held you feel.

Sukuna holds you tighter.

“Next time,” he says quietly, brushing your hair back, “we take it slow. I wanna hear those pretty sounds without hurting you. You’re too precious to me, baby.”

You manage a soft smile.

Because no matter how hard he goes—he always brings you back. Always holds you after.

TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau

A/N: bleh

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

[dark-and-kawaii]

Lovely Little Thing

Summary: You moaned as Sukuna’s cum pumped into your depths, the tip of his cock planted firmly against your cervix, not allowing a single drop to escape your rapidly swelling womb.

With one final thrust you slammed your hips down on Sukuna’s ridged fat cock, driving his cockhead against your cervix, “s’kuna~♡ mn’youre sho’ deep~ c-can feel you in m-my womb~♡” you mewled.

Sukuna just laid there on his back, two arms folded under his head, the other two holding your hips with a bruising grip. His head was tilted back slightly, but his eyes gazed up at you through hooded eyes. The king of curses gave a slight chuckle, a smug smirk pulling at his lips, “And how is this my fault, little lamb?”

Your cheeks flushed the prettiest of pink as your much smaller body continued riding him like a bitch in heat, your tits bouncing, jiggling, with each rise and fall of your hips. His massive, muscular body spread out under you, sweat glistening and muscles taut… he was the perfect picture of strength and power, and he was all yours.

“S’kuna~ bully my tummy~ mn’make me all mushy n’messy ♡“ you whined.

A large hand found its way to your tummy and pressed down, a lewd moan falling from your parted lips… you could feel his cock so perfectly against his hand, it was making you all dizzy.

Sukuna chuckled again, his thumb rubbing the small bulge his cock created, “Such a needy thing, so cute and pathetic, my little lamb, what am I to do with you hm? You want me to wreck you? Then let me see those delicious tears and fucked out smile.”

His grin was sharp, eyes wild… He wanted to break you, to make a blabbering mess of you until you were nothing more than his perfect little cocksleeve.

Keeping his hand pressed to your belly, feet firmly planted on the bed, Sukuna started snapping his hips up, his cock slamming into your cervix repeatedly, bullying that forbidden area until you were a sobbing mess on his lap.

Your eyes tear filled with pleasure, a dumb, fucked out smile on your face, your tongue lolled out, drool dribbling down your chin, “Ah-h-aah~♡ f-feels s-sogooood ♡♡ S-so big in m-me, f-feels like y-youre makin my t-tummy all swirlyyy ♡♡♡”

Sukuna’s thrusts didn't slow, in fact they got harder, his hips now a blur as his cock drove itself home with each snap of his hips. Your thighs trembled and shook, a tight heat coiling in your tummy, you could feel it, you were gonna cum, gonna cum from having the King of curses use you like a toy.

Your back arched, your eyes widened, your screams went silent, and your body spasmed uncontrollably. It felt as if only you and Sukuna existed in this world, your senses focusing on a white hot singularity of endless pleasure in your womb.

You nearly went limp, left weak by the intense climax, your muscles still spasming around the monster seated deep inside you.

Rope after rope of thick, white hot vitality deep into your spasming cunt, pumping straight into your womb. You moaned as Sukuna’s cum pumped into your depths, the tip of his cock planted firmly against your cervix, not allowing a single drop to escape your rapidly swelling womb.

When his last of his milky seed spilled into your needle little body, a warm, pleasant afterglow settled over his body. Opening his eyes, Sukuna saw that your once normal sized stomach was just perfectly bloated... Your overstuffed womb making you look as is you were already carrying his child.

With your body a wreck, you slumped forward resting on Sukuna's chest, your bloated tummy pressed against the warmth of his body lulling you to sleep, “S’k- s’kuna~luv you…” you slurred out.

Sukuna was caught off guard, he wasn't expecting such soft words, yet here you were, a soft smile on your pretty lips, telling him how much you loved him…

Raking his fingers through your hair, he gave a soft hum, a rare moment of tenderness, “Rest.”

The warmth and comfort of his muscular arms were like a castle made of skulls and bones, a comfort only you knew.

He looked down at your sleeping form, and a soft smirk pulled at his lips, “Love…” his eyes narrowed, “Such a human emotion,” his hand cupped your bloated belly, giving a slight push, drawing a sleepy moan from you, before settling his hand on the curve of your hip… it was such a pitiful emotion, but… it was one he may be willing to accept for you, his sweet little lamb.

[ramixha]

What if they meet in Heian era and befriend with each other.

Yuji, stop bringing strays to home! Also that’s kidnapping! …waaaaaait….does it count as kidnapping when said child been orchestrated and abandoned by the villages?