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huicitawrites · 8 months ago

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Diaries of the Priestess of The Malevolent Shrine

Yandere! Heian Sukuna x Fem! Reader tags: @a-tiny-teez @kazusan7yanderekun @eleventhdoctorsangel @sircatchungus warnings: yandere, “slow burn”, violence, death and torture, slavery

Diary Entry #?, The Harvest Festival

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-It has been two years since you've become his priestess.

You sit on your knees, head bowed, the scarlet hakama folded perfectly beneath you, your pristine white kosode a mockery of the purity expected of a priestess.

What a joke, you think bitterly.

The being in front of you is far from holy—he is the devil incarnate, Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses.

Hesitantly, you peel one eye open.

His huge, muscular form sits without a care for modesty, one knee raised, the other placed open, his four arms slouching around his body. His four bloodshot eyes hold no emotion, and his two-sided face remains blank. The harvest festival, so sacred to the people, means nothing to him. All that mattered was that he would be revered.

They would pray to him, treat him as a god, and with that thought, his ego was fed. His lips twisted into a smug smile.

You felt dirty despite your clean robes. After all, being his priestess meant serving his blasphemy.

His grin caught your attention, and your eyes were drawn to his face. But when his gaze locked with yours, you quickly looked away.

You heard a deep chuckle rumble through his broad chest.

You despised making eye contact with him. You couldn’t bear those crimson, bloodshot eyes. They were seared into your memory, a scar etched into your soul on that day.

The day your clan was massacred. In your weakness, you surrendered to his mercy and betrayed the legacy of your parents. You became his ‘priestess.’

A fancy title for a slave, nothing more—a pawn in the hands of the King of Curses who sought to be a god. A God of Chaos, a God of Suffering, a God of Carnage.

The drums began, a slow, steady thud that echoed through the temple halls, shaking you from your thoughts. The festival was starting. You remained kneeling beside Sukuna, just behind his massive form, your hands folded neatly in front of you. The beat of the drums reverberated in your chest, growing louder with each passing moment, as the priests below began their solemn procession.

They moved in tandem, their steps perfectly synchronized with the rhythm, white robes swaying like ghostly apparitions. Incense wafted into the air, thick and cloying, its sweet scent filling the temple as it curled upward to the dark rafters. You felt trapped beneath the weight of it all: the suffocating smoke, the oppressive atmosphere, and the sheer force of Sukuna’s cursed energy beside you.

The chanting began, a deep, guttural sound that filled the courtyard. Ancient words, meant to honor the gods, now twisted in purpose, directed at the devil sitting next to you. The villagers and priests alike believed this to be a sacred festival, a prayer for a prosperous harvest, but you knew the truth.

This was no prayer to the gods. This was a celebration of him, Ryomen Sukuna, so that he may be more willing to spare their lives. The villagers and priests would leave tonight, grateful just to have survived the day under his gaze.

You glanced at Sukuna again, careful not to meet his eyes this time. His expression was as indifferent as ever, his four eyes half-lidded in boredom. One arm rested lazily on his knee, while the others hung loosely by his sides. Uraume stood by his right side, ever faithful, the perfect servant.

The villagers knelt outside the temple, their foreheads pressed into the dirt, offering their fear and devotion in the only way they knew. None of them dared look up, too terrified of the consequences. Sukuna’s smirk grew, feeding off their terror, and you could feel the faint pulse of satisfaction that radiated from him. This festival—this display of submission—was nothing more than fuel for his inflated ego.

The chanting grew louder, the rhythm of the drums quickening, as the priests raised their hands in supplication. Before Sukuna, they laid baskets of rice, fruit, and incense.

You stood there, silent and still, your head slightly bowed in mock reverence.

But as the chanting reached a fevered pitch and the drumbeats pounded in your ears, you felt a shift in the air. The festival was only just beginning, and for some reason, your gut was screaming at you, warning you to not lower your guard.

Then, a figure emerged from the crowd. It was a half-naked woman—her kimono slipping from her shoulders and wide open. Her wild eyes locked onto Sukuna the moment she saw him, and something changed in her expression—a manic grin spread across her face, unrestrained and desperate.

“Yorozu-sama, wait!!” you heard a young voice plead.

But as you turned your face to comprehend just what in the heavens was going on, a venomous voice whispered in your ear, "Out of the way, bitch."

“From now on, I will be the one to stand by his side!” Yorozu’s voice rang out, high-pitched and gleeful.

And then it happened—a swift, brutal kick struck you in the side, sending you flying off the wooden altar. You gasped as the air was forced from your lungs, landing hard on the floor below. The gravel dug into your body as the world around you spun and blurred.

You winced, barely able to lift your head, blinking a few times as your vision recovered.

The sight of Sukuna made your stomach twist. He hadn’t moved, but his expression had changed—the casual indifference wiped away, replaced by a deep, disgusted frown. His eyes burned with fury, a heat that seethed and promised destruction.

Uraume stepped forward quickly. “How dare you,” they snarled, standing between Yorozu and their master. Their voice was cold and sharp, the tension palpable. They wouldn’t allow such disrespect to stand.

Yorozu, however, ignored Uraume entirely. She didn’t even look at them, her eyes only for Sukuna, her fixation unwavering. She was completely enamored, her entire focus on him and no one else. Uraume’s presence meant no threat to her.

You groaned and coughed, your chest heaving with each breath. The pain was sharp, but you could feel a servant’s hands on you, lifting you gently, trying to help you sit upright. You leaned into their support, struggling to regain control over your breathing.

The servant whispered in your ear, their hands delicate and soft as they tried to calm you. “Forgive my lady's actions, please, stay still. You’re hurt.”

Yet your focus—no, all eyes—were on the woman standing in front of Sukuna, her half-naked form still and eerily focused. Yorozu, crazed and delirious with adoration, stood as if she had discovered something divine.

"Sukuna…!" the mad woman praised, her voice shaking with reverence. "You are magnificent! Seeing you in the flesh—" Yorozu took a step closer, eyes bright with infatuation. Her words of praise drowned in the background noise of hushed whispers as you felt the gentle hands from before pat your shoulders.

You turned to the servant holding you, and your eyes widened in fear. It was a boy, surely no more than ten. Your eyes jumped from the child to Yorozu and then to Sukuna. Back and forth, you repeated this pattern.

“You look… lonely. I can feel it. Allow me to be the one to cure your loneliness! Let us turn this world into a cursed chaos—

Amidst her blabbering, the realization befell you, and as the boy tried to lift you up, your hands twisted the fabric of his yukata.

"Run. Flee at once!"

"Miss, you need to calm down! I need to take you to the healers—"

-a world fit for the King of Curses! A world where—”

“Shut up.”

Sukuna’s deep voice cut through Yorozu's words with finality, cold and disdain. Before she could react, Sukuna moved.

With barely a flick of his wrist, he unleashed his cursed technique, faster than a heartbeat. An invisible slash of cursed energy sliced through the air, clean and precise. Yorozu’s words choked into a sharp gasp, her eyes still lovesick and lidded as her body crumpled to the ground, lifeless in an instant.

The priests and villagers cowered, their terrified murmurs drowned out by the overwhelming pressure of Sukuna’s presence. Blood splattered the gravel floor beneath her, pooling around her as if her life had never mattered. Silence hung heavy once more.

Your breath hitched as you tried to stand up and move the shocked child away. The pain in your chest flared up again, making you struggle against your coughs. But before you could get away with the child in hand, a shadow loomed over both of you.

In one swift motion, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground, strong hands wrapping around you, pulling you up effortlessly. Your body was pressed against Sukuna’s massive form, his cursed energy suffocating as it crackled in the air.

You heard a thud behind you and turned your head sharply to assess the child's well-being.

Yet two of his arms held you firmly, immobilizing you. One hand gripped your waist, the other snatched your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Look at me,” he commanded. His crimson eyes inspecting every detail of your face. “Are you hurt?” he asked calmly.

Your heart raced, panic flaring as the blood from Yorozu pooled around the gravel. ��The boy—please, he’s just—”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed and his grip tightened, “Pay attention to me,” he said, his voice a dangerous command “Answer me—are you hurt?”

The words barely escaped your lips. “I—I’m fine, my Lord,” you stammered, feeling utterly vulnerable within his caging arms.

Satisfied for the moment, Sukuna turned his attention back to the villagers, who now knelt in terror, prayers spilling from their lips, frantic and desperate. His voice dripped with dark amusement, the very embodiment of menace. “Quite the rude hosts, don’t you think?” he remarked, his eyes gleaming with malice. “They seem to have forgotten their place.”

As he raised his spear, glimmering ominously in the dim light, the air turned thick with tension. You could feel it before it happened—a wave of pure, unfiltered chaos. Carnage ensued.

Screams erupted as Sukuna cut through flesh and bone, a whirlwind of death and destruction. The villagers, once fervent in their prayers, now fled in terror, but there was nowhere to hide from the King of Curses. They fell around you, bodies littering the ground like discarded offerings.

Pinned in his grip, your eyes were shut but you were forced to withstand the sounds of the massacre. Sukuna’s eyes gleamed with a primal excitement, the thrill of slaughter igniting a fire within him that was terrifying. Each swipe of his weapon, each agonized scream, only served to fuel his insatiable bloodlust.

“Such chaos… it’s intoxicating,” he mused, his voice laced with a dark satisfaction that sent chills down your spine.

As the last echoes of terror faded into silence, Sukuna’s gaze turned back to you, his grip still firm around your waist. His eyes darkened, holding a predatory intensity that made your heart race.

With a twisted smirk curling his lips, he leaned closer, the scent of blood and incense clinging to him. “Consider this a reminder,” he murmured, voice low and chilling, the warmth of his breath grazing your skin.

"Uraume", he called out and the cursed-ice user made no haste to come close and kneel, "Let's go."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama"

And so, as he carried you away and Uraume left in tow, your eyes desperately secanned for any hint of survivors, but you only found a torn piece of that poor, innocent boy's yukata on the pools of blood.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere blog #self insert #yandere writing #yandere jjk #yandere sukuna #yandere sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader

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huicitawrites · 8 months ago

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I'm alive! And I will resurrect this fic too :)

Diaries of the Priestess of The Malevolent Shrine

Yandere! Heian Sukuna x Fem! Reader

tags: @a-tiny-teez @kazusan7yanderekun @eleventhdoctorsangel @sircatchungus

reposted: Diary Entry 01, Beginnings

warnings: yandere, “slow burn”, violence, death and torture, slavery

Previous Part / Next Part

The day itself was no different than any other spring day in Japan. The vast forest gleamed with green and a soft breeze danced through the trees and rattled the leaves. In the depths, the sound of rushing water could be heard, indicating the presence of a waterfall or spring.

And yet, it was still awfully quiet.

No sounds or sights of animals- no heads of reindeers or tails of mountain foxes, not a single bird sat atop the tree branches and not the single chirp of a cricket or the all-too-known hisses of cicadas.

In any case, the air was tense, the spring wind carried gloom and silence. The dense forest did not hide you, but made you feel small and intimidated, vulnerable to the feeling of being stalked like prey.

You were capable of seeing their eyes and malformed shapes, their sights were focused on you, who was sitting inside the decorated carriage, and the men who carried you to the slaughter.

They outnumbered you and the men, they made you easy prey and yet, they did not jump at the opportunity. No, they watched. Although the bodies pushed and squeezed each other, they did not cross your path and in its stead, formed a straight path up the hill- at the top of it and at its end, a massive torii-gate could be seen.

Like a lamb to the slaughter.

Yes, that’s what you were- The make-up, the accessories and wedding hanfu were all a traditional façade, you were not a woman to be married off to a man as the noble customs dictate.

No.

You were a sacrifice.

An unlucky sheep being delivered to the wolf’s den in a ridiculous attempt to save the other sheep.

As the carriage advanced, you couldn’t help but grasp and twist the fabric of the dress. It was shameful, if anything. Your clan was once proud and strong, almost at par with the family that held possession of The Six Eyes. Your parents were proud leaders that had exorcized countless curses and led their fellow shamans to dominate the battlefield.

A terrible encounter would be their doom and leave the [L/n] clan in shambles. Your parents and many other clanspeople fought and lost their lives to the King of Curses. The L/n’s, once vast and powerful, was rendered scarce and vulnerable. Without the support such a big clan provided, your village’s riches run dry and your clan was abandoned by the townspeople. Even when you as the heiress of the Clan pleaded for help to the other great clans in hopes they would honor their alliances held for over decades, they turned their backs on you without a second thought.

What could you, a young woman with feeble grasp of her own inherited technique, hope to do to? In a world where power ruled over all and guaranteed survival, what could you possibly do to prevent your clan from extinction?

How could you ever save the legacy of your dear parents?

It seemed like your uncle, the only closest relative you had alive, had a wonderful idea. "We'll put to use your youth and face”, he had said, “I am sure you can please him, your parents would be proud to see you do anything in your grasp to save our clan. As a young L/n heiress, it is your duty. Bask in pride.”

‘Bask in pride?’ To hell with him, it seemed that he had also forgotten about his sister, your beloved mother, and his brother-in-law. They would never sell you out, as long as you can remember they never pressured you to accept any suitor and they would always express their desire for you to choose out of your own right.

And screw your Uncle’s words, they would rather fight tooth and nail against the whole Jujutsu world than to see you being sent off to the Cursed King himself. Your parents would rather die than issue an alliance with Ryomen Sukuna, the murderer of your clan, through you- their cherished daughter.

However, they had indeed died. They could do nothing to prevent you from your fate and save you from the madness and desperation of your uncle.

‘Mother, Father’, your fingertips instinctively brushed the piece of jewelry that adorned your [Y/n] hair - a colorful hairpin in the shades of [favorite color] passed down to you as a family heirloom - when you closed your eyes, the faces of your deceased parents and fallen clanspeople flashed in your mind.

To hell with your uncle, to hell with the King of Curses.

Too caught up within your mind, you were brought back by a ‘knock-knock’ from the outside wall of the carriage. Your uncle’s voice reached your ears, “We are almost there, [Y/n]. Prepare yourself.”

“Remember, our lives depend on you. Do not do anything stupid.”

You knew well what he meant to say, ‘don’t you dare step out of line’. You can perfectly recall the sting of the palm of his hand on your right cheek when you had first opposed. You were still opposed, you could not hide the truth that reflected in your face. Your uncle was mad, but he was not blind. He was aware of your intentions and the unwavering loyalty you had for your parents and the clan. Their teachings, values and traditions were well rooted within you.

The ascending movements of the carriage came to a stop. Your curiosity willed you towards the window of the carriage. When taking a peak out of it, you noticed a massive, old and strained torii. The color of it had faded and lost itself to time and the wood of it had various cracks that ran through the columns. In spite of it all, it stood tall and its height made you feel even smaller and more insignificant to its grandness.

Past the torii, meters away and framed at the center, was a shrine.

When the lot of you crossed the torii, a massive aura came crushing on you. The tension solidified ten times over, and the air became even thicker than before. Unlike in the forest, there were no cursed spirits yet the cursed energy emanating from the shrine was hundreds of times stronger and fouler.

This was where Ryomen Sukuna lived.

He had to be there, inside.

The gates of the shrine opened on their own as if he were already expecting your arrival. He knew all of you were here the moment you put a foot in that cursed forest. The doors creaked and the ominous scenery lit up.

The shrine was spacious, there were three columns at each side of the hallroom and between the last pair there was his throne.

The veils of the carriage hid you, but you could feel your uncle and his men freeze. You could feel his cursed energy radiating past the carriage walls and veils, directly hitting your skin and making your body tremble. You bit your lower lip and your nails crumbled the fabric even tighter. It would leave permanent creases, if you ever lived past this moment to see them that is.

“Oh, great King of Curses,” your uncle’s voice announced and his body bowed along the remaining clanspeople, “We have come in peace and humbleness with an offer.”

Your uncle could not resist slightly raising his head and taking a mere glance, but once he did, he was quick to redirect his forehead to the ground and sweat began to break all over his body.

At the top of the leading stairs and in a golden throne gilded with skulls sat Ryomen Sukuna, seemingly bored. Even as he sat, his body was huge, and he had two pairs of arms. The lower set held two weapons, a staff and a dagger, which did nothing but aggravate the threat that he was. His top left arm laid on the armrest as his right elbow bent to cushion his cheek. Although his head was tilted to the side and there were no traces of ire or madness right away, his four eyes looked down upon them with disdain. As if he were glancing at a couple of ants.

His eyes were, however, quick to glance at the carriage. Of course he knew what this was about, this was not the first time he was made an ‘offering’. His red irises glanced back to your uncle and the people behind him, oh how he enjoyed the sight of fools bowing to him.

“Bring the carriage forward and back off. I’ll see whatever’s inside for myself”.

His voice was low and thick, Sukuna ordered them around without much more explanation, only with the expectation that they would fill out his command. They were at his mercy, and so, the carriage was carried forward with you in it. Slowly, they lowered it and dropped you on the ground. As they retreated, their forms were still kept bowed and low.

Ryomen Sukuna stood up from his throne, full seven feet or more of stature in display. Strange black markings stretched across his skin. As he descended the stairs, his heavy footfalls thudded the wooden floor, vibrating through the it.

The carriage shook in the ground, you could tell he was enormous and monstrous due to those footfalls of his. With each step, he got closer, and you grew even more nervous.

Sweat began to break from the skin of your forehead, your eyes widened and your pupils constricted, your throat became tight and dry.

‘He’s getting closer, he’s getting closer, he’s-’

The shadow of his silhouette tinted the veils, and suddenly everything around you disappeared. All you could hear and feel was the frantic drumming of your heart in your ears.

You could see in slow motion how his muscled arm came to grab the veil. One by one, his black claws passed through the division of the veils.

‘He will open them any second now.’

Your breathing became ragged and snippets of your life flashed across your eyes. Your parents, your clanspeople, the townspeople, everyone.

You would rather die than betray them.

You prepared yourself and below the sleeves of the damned hanfu, your knuckles turned white.

When Sukuna drew open the curtains, he was met with a pretty sight. It’s not an outstandingly new thing, but a pretty maiden is always a relief to a man’s eyes, even to one such as him.

Dolled up just for him with delicate makeup and luxurious fabrics, a lady with [h/c] hair and [s/c] skin sat on her knees elegantly. Her back was poise and kept, her eyes were closed, displaying long and curled eyelashes.

For a second, Sukuna lost his usual cool composure- he was truly impressed, even though many had come to him in a similar manner.

However, what followed suit was what definitely picked his interest.

The calm and docile demeanor of the lady snapped and her eyes shot open, revealing a pair of fierce [e/c] burning with fury. From the inside of the carriage, she leapt forward to him- to his throat to be precise.

“Oh?” The Cursed King expressed with genuine interest, an eyebrow cocked and all, as he admired your form in the air.

Your hair spread free and wild in the air, like the mane of a lion, and your teeth were bared as a warcry left your red-painted lips. Your left arm was extended and the palm of your hand was wide open, while the other arm’s elbow was bent behind your head. Sukuna was also quick to take notice of the weapon in your hand infused with cursed energy, a familiar one as well, and his eyes widened in further surprise when the cursed energy became so sharp it flashed in red and black.

The corners of Sukuna’s lips picked up, his lips parted in a wicked, toothy grin laced with malice. He ran his tongue over his lips, he could already taste it, the massacre. Your form was getting nearer and nearer by the second, with the naive intent to strike him down.

“I’d rather die than be sold off like a broodmare!”

“You foolish girl, you’ll kill us all!”

The King of Curses held an amused face in contrast to your enraged one, and just when you thought you would be able to pierce and slice open his throat, one of his arms stopped you. Abruptly, and quite ironically, he caught you by your own throat. His hold was strong, immobilizing you completely mid air. Your body halted and trembled, even as you struggled to find air, the object still held your cursed energy and your eyes kept burning with ire.

“Now this is getting fun”, Sukuna giggled as his four eyes scrutinized your form. He found that the way you resisted was pathetically adorable as if he had just caught an insect with the pads of his fingers, one he could squash in less than a second.

“A hairpin infused with cursed energy? Creative, I’ll give you that, but so stupid. You thought you could kill me? With a hairpin? That’s a little insulting to say the least ” His tone was mocking and condensing, his tongue lacing the words with venom. With his hand still choking you, he brought you closer.

He made out the words ‘fuck you’ from your lips, which just made him laugh some more. You raked your fingernails across his arm in agony, trying to tear apart his skin. Such a feisty lady.

The King of Curses made sure to glare at you right in the eyes with false pity as he spoke, “For someone who would rather die, you sure are putting on a pathetic display as you are giving it your all for some air”.

Something about his words resounded deep within you. A truth you wanted to deny yourself in the name of your parents. Everyone died whilst fighting and here you were, the least you could do was join them and honor their dignity!

Your eyesight was getting clouded with dark spots due to the lack of oxygen, but your ears were keen to the following words, “Hmm? You want to live, don’t you?”

Sukuna hummed the words as he was drowning in the details of your bodily expressions as you gasped for a last breath of air. He had taken many lives, some squealed like lowly pigs at the slaughter, others simply gave up, but some put up a fight, or some sort of resistance. Yours was such a case, in which you’d put on a brave facade, acting tough and daring, but deep down you wanted to survive and live on so, so badly.

He could see it in the diminishing fire of your eyes, and how the cinders of fear and regret took over. You were beginning to question yourself, to panic. And Sukuna relished in it, took all in.

“So? What will you---“

Sukuna blinked his eyes and tilted his head downward upon the feeling of someone tugging on his yukata. “Please forgive her, my lord! I am sure she is just nervous, please reconsider it!”, at the level of his feet, the old man that had delivered his sacrifice was clinging to his ankles. His nose was buried in the fabric of his clothes, and Sukuna gagged in disgust.

“Spare her foolishness! I am certain of her capability to–”

“Silence, you fool”.

The voice of the King of Curses dropped decibels lower, lacking any twisted humor and simply on point. His eyes held no emotion but irritation, his face was relaxed but his eyebrows and mouth were lined straight. Sukuna was serious.

His voice boomed through the hallroom, and you heard the way everyone dropped to their knees again. Your uncle hit his forehead on the floor with a loud slap and he shook like a leaf. A leaf to be trampled on.

Sparing you no other glance, Ryomen Sukuna threw you to the side of the room like a mere toy. Your back crashed against the wall and upon impact. Air was knocked out of your lungs once again and you howled silently in pain, unable to produce a sound. Your body coiled in itself as it attempted to reduce the pain, and you coughed furiously.

Your eyes blinked a couple of times, making feeble attempts to open fully- but all you could see was a blurry mist, in which you only figured out the characteristic pink hair and monstrous build of the demon. You noticed your uncle at his feet, without really thinking, you reached out your arm to him and stretched it wide open. It collapsed on its weight. All you could do was watch the tragedy unfold.

Sukuna kicked your uncle in the gut and he rolled back a few steps. He groaned in pain. He had no time to gather himself, for Sukuna kicked him once more. This time, in the ribs.

“You dare barge into my shrine without care, shamelessly bringing up an unsolicited offer. You were an idiot if you thought you would get something out of me. An alliance, or my ‘divine’ protection?” He sneered, “ You are the fool here. At least the girl stood up to fight, coward.”

Your uncle tried to shape words with his lips, tongue and teeth, but all that came up was splotches of blood and saliva.

“Uraume,” the Cursed King called out and from the shadows, a young man made his appearance at Sukuna's side. His odd light-blue locks cascaded down as his head was bowed, and his robes draped over his legs on the floor. His arm crossed over one of his knees, it was evident that he was awaiting orders.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Help me with dealing with this trash. I am fed up with this.”

“As you say, my lord.”

When he raised up his face, a sinister grin decorated his face. He lifted his body off the floor and dusted his clothes, making way towards the poor souls in Sukuna's hall.

“This one's for me to kill, and that girl over there-” the Cursed King pointed at you “- leave her be.”

‘Uraume’ nodded once more and muttered the loyal words. Without further haste, he launched himself to the rest of the people.

You struggled to stay conscious, the dissonance of horror enveloping you, though your senses were waning. The screams of terror, the sickening squelch of flesh and blood, the bone-chilling cracks—these sounds permeated your fading awareness. However, the overwhelming cursed energy in the air compelled you to regain consciousness. As if it kept your body awakened with its sheer presence.

Your tear-blurred vision flickered as you blinked repeatedly, attempting to adjust your eyesight to the scene before you. Regret – instant and churning painfully your heart – flooded your thoughts as you took in the gruesome scenery.

The room was a nightmarish maelstrom of chaos. Blood pooled around lifeless bodies strewn across the floor. Limbs and entrails laid in grotesque disarray. An overpowering metallic stench overtook your sense of smell, assaulting your nostrils with the unmistakable scent of iron.

You longed to turn away, to escape the horrors unfolding before you, but your body remained unable to move itself. You were far too hurt. Wide-eyed and trembling, you observed that many bodies lay headless, including your uncle's.

His severed head stared right at you, a loud but silent testament to the brutality of the carnage. The weight of the guilt sinked deep within you, the cold look on your uncle’s corpse blaming you.

Your shoulders slumped, and despair welled up, but your body lacked the strength even to shed tears. You clenched your fists so tightly that your fingernails dug into your palms, an agonizing reminder of your helplessness.

"God... please," you whispered, your voice a desperate plea in the midst of the macabre scene. The last remnants of your clan, the servants, the soldiers, your own blood—their lives had all been snuffed out.

The once-proud [L/n] clan, now reduced to a memory, stood on the precipice of extinction. You were the sole survivor, a solitary heiress to a lineage of nothingness. The weight of this grim reality pressed upon you, though it felt like mere seconds separated you from joining the departed.

Alone and vulnerable, you embraced grief and awaited death.

"Wasn't that quite refreshing, Uraume?" Sukuna's voice rang out, his presence looming closer.

"It certainly was, my lord," Uraume responded, his words dripping with sadistic amusement.

You remained ensnared in your misery, dry tears long gone, your throat raw from unspoken anguish. As Sukuna drew near, his laughter filled the air. He crouched before you, his posture languid, his gaze filled with a sadistic fascination that thrived in your torment.

“Now, what will I do with you…” A reminder that you were at the mercy of the King of Curses. As he hummed with closed eyes, searching for answer in his evil mind, his clawed-thumb supported his chin as he tilted his head, his other arms resting over his knees. He was unfazed, lacking any remorse or guilt, he was amused. He truly could not care less about what he had done.

“Ah, yes!” he clapped his hands, eyes wide open along with a bright smile. He sought to meet your gaze, but your head hung too low to notice, and without warning, he raised it with his hand. He pinched your chin, puncturing his claws in your (color) skin. Perhaps, it would leave a scar, but that would heal. Unlike your heart, which would certainly have one– a nasty, deep one, for sure. One that would never heal.

Even though he lifted your head, your gaze refused to meet his. Your (e/c) were dull and empty, your eyelids were swollen and you were crestfallen. His red-eyes went to the side. It slightly irked him, he despised the weak and that face you held was the epitome of weakness. Yet, he could put you to greater use.

“Hear me out, girl” Ryomen Sukuna spat. His eyes glinted with malevolent intent, “You haven’t been the only one to come up to my shrine and be offered as a pretty human bride. But I fear there is just no more space in my harem and I have just enough servants… But I am missing a priestess for my shrine, someone to worship me and pray in my name. A human to set as an example for the rest, a shepherd for these pathetic, weak sheep.”

His tone holds mockery and his eyes hold mischievousness, an egotistical and narcissistic abyss that wants to be filled to the brim. He is asking you to strip off any remaining pride and honor, just to serve him.

“So what do you say? Who knows… if you do your job well you might get to live a little bit more…”

The King of Curses looked back to your face, you were bewildered and your features scrunched in disgust. Of course, Sukuna knew you would hesitate, you just need a little pushing around, “And if you don’t accept my kind offer, well, I could just have my fun with you before ripping you apart and ending your miserable life.”

You gulped. The implications of his word, ‘having his fun with you’, it sent shivers down your spine. It could mean anything, and nothing good for certain. You do not wish to die such a horrible death, what choice do you have? Being used by Ryomen Sukuna like a doll would be humiliating and atrocious, but serving him like a priestess would betraying your morals– yet, you’d live.

You would live to see another day.

You grimaced, a silent tear slipping down the corner of your eye, ‘I am sorry, Mother, Father, Uncle… everyone’

“I don’t have all day, girl”

“I accept”

Sukuna’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise as a cheshire grin spread on his face. He chuckled upon your despair, what more could the weak do than take the slightest chance to be spared? If you were stronger, you could have attempted to resist him, but you were not, you were at his mercy.

“Then bow your head to your new god and present yourself”. The sentence came in the format of a command, one so powerful it instantly made your elbows seek the ground and plummeted your forehead below.

“I am [Y/n] [L/n], heir of the [L/n] Clan.”

On the back of your head you felt a sudden pressure being forced, its flat surface made you believe it was one of his feet. “That name…”

The pressure intensified as he sank his foot deeper and rubbed it against your skull, his next words only aggravated the pain “Ah, yes! The [L/N] Clan, yes, I got word I killed two of their most powerful sorcerers, the heads of the clan nonetheless. It made it all the more funny, they were weakling scum. Pathetic really how the remains of their oh so proud clan, barged into my home pleading for mercy and now I have their daughter right at my foot to serve me.” His laugh was loud and boisterous, as if someone had told him the best joke around, his four eyes holding disdain and madness. His laugh continued to echo across the room, before dying down as he inhaled and exhaled, a smaller smile painting his face.

His four eyes looked down at you.

“You are now solely [Y/n], after all, no [L/N] remains… Stand up.” he removed his foot.

He ordered you to stand up and although your knees buckled, you managed. However, you remained your head low, avoiding eye-contact.

“Well, then. You ought to begin, your first task will be to clean up this mess. Leave this place spotless.” He said without a care of the bodies, without acknowledging the value of the lives he had taken. “Uraume, after she finishes give her further instructions, show her how things work around here.”

“As you wish, my lord”. The man with light-blue hair and peculiar robes showed himself again, this time, right by your side but not at the same level, a step in front.

“And [Y/n]- I despise incompetence”. His eyes shot daggers at your form and his voice rid itself of any sarcastic or ‘humorous’ tone, it was a very real threat. You gulped and nodded, bowing your head in an instant, but something about the way he said his words unease you– the gears in your head began shifting rapidly and you were quick to reach the conclusion, for your sake.

“Y-yes, my lord.” You copied this ‘Uraume’ man, and bowed your head further. The King of Curses chuckled.

“Very good, you are a fast learner it seems.”

Without further ado, Ryomen Sukuna walked away along with Uraume, who later came back to toss you cleaning supplies, a bucket of water and a broom and a rag- he disappeared with a twisted smile too, much like his lord.

You stood still there with the broom in your hands as by your feet, the severed head of your uncle kept staring at you. You rolled the sleeves of the ruined hanfu, and began to mop.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #self insert #yandere blog #yandere jjk #yandere sukuna #yandere sukuna x reader

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huicitawrites · 8 months ago

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A Love Unlike Any Other

There’s this theory going on that the Fourth Sister is supposed to marry the Destined One (?), and I got inspired to write smth about it (except she’s more of a girl’s girl here bc x reader ykyk).

“Do you like him?”

There was a slight regret that came from your stupid decision to find some fresh air, even if you were just literally standing right outside of the abandoned shack your monkey friend had searched for a night rest. But it was mostly confusion, because why would this yaoguai ask about your feelings for the Destined One?

Or maybe she was testing you so she’d have the justification to attack you? Quite a convoluted way, you must admit, but it just meant she was more strategic in her way. And, thus, more dangerous.

“Why are you asking me that?” you asked cautiously, frowning.

“Just answer it.”

You hesitated. Should you wake up the monkey? But you felt bad for disturbing his rest, and after everything he’d done today, he totally deserved it.

The woman sighed.

“It’s not a trap question, so there’s no need to be so wary. I’m simply curious about the matter.”

Again, you didn’t know why it concerned her. Could it be that she liked him somehow? A love at first sight? Still, you supposed there was no harm in taking the bait, if not to assert your innocence.

“No, we’re just friends.”

She narrowed her eyes skeptically. You were always curious about the black tear trails on her cheeks, or why she looked so different from her more colorful sisters, but you weren’t bold enough to ask.

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

“And yet, that’s not what he thinks about you, is it?” she mumbled.

Your frown deepened.

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“If you pay more attention to your surroundings, you’ll know what I mean, human.”

“I don’t understand. Why are you asking me all this? Do you… do you like him or something?”

The female yaoguai fell silent. Somewhere, the crickets chirped, worsening the tension between you two. You cowered against the wall beside the door, fearing that you’d offended her somehow. What if you’d just given her a reason to attack you?

Then, suddenly, she withdrew. Her gloomy appearance seemed to merge with the darkness in this spider-infested place.

“Try to keep your distance from him, for his love is unlike any other.”

“Wait!” you exclaimed, outstretching your hand despite trying to efface yourself just now. “Please don’t go!”

But she only ignored your calls and disappeared into the shadows. You stared at the place she once stood in a mixture of confusion and dread.

“[Name].”

You squeaked in surprise and whirled around, seeing the Destined One standing in the now opened door. He was frowning; a typical expression on him, but directed at you, it felt like he was suspecting you of something.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Nobody.” you replied quickly. “Let’s just… go inside, shall we?”

Unfortunately, he was unconvinced with your answer because he refused to budge at your desperate entry to the shack.

“Why are you outside in the first place? You already know it’s dangerous, especially at night-time.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I just… wanted some fresh air.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Yes.”

A pair of dark eyes beheld you, emphasized by light brown eyebrows. The yaoguai’s advice echoes in your mind – about you needing to be more aware of your surroundings – until it dawned on you that it wasn’t the first time he’d stared at you like this. Occasionally, you’d feel the prickly sensation of someone’s eyes on you. And when you did catch him in the act, you merely thought he was trying to search for an injury on you instead.

The realization only served to unsettle you as you gulped and looked down.

“Don’t do that again.”

You nodded frantically, unnerved by the particular sternness in his warning. In that moment, you felt like a child being scolded by her father.

Finally, the Destined One stepped aside, allowing you entry. You lied down and turned to face the wall after wrapping yourself in the thin, coarse blanket you’d found on a shelf. You could sense his steady gaze on you before he joined you on the floor. He slung an arm over your stomach and pulled you closer to him so your back was pressed against his furry chest.

Tight.

It was too tight.

He’d never done it before, hugging you like this. Except during those times when you were desperate for warmth, he still maintained the appropriate distance between you.

Until now, that is.

You squirmed in his hold, but he merely tightened it.

“Go to sleep.”

And sleep, you did, albeit fitful.

***

Ever since then, the Destined One had become more overbearing than ever. The physical distance that once existed between you suddenly receded as if it was never there in the first place. If his hand wasn’t holding yours, his tail would replace it. And both appendages were stubborn in their grip, even if your palm ended up sweaty. You were even more convinced that he’d overheard your conversation with that yaoguai, because this kind of thing wouldn’t have happened otherwise.

Of course, you’d tried to heed the yaoguai’s advice to maintain some distance, but he either ignored your plea or rejected you bluntly. It got the point where you were desperate for an escape. You knew it was a suicidal decision, considering the many dangers that lurked around, but it wasn’t as if staying with him was any better.

“Where are you going?”

“I… I want to pee.”

After all this journey, you were no longer embarrassed to tell him about your more personal needs. Although, in this case, your nerves made you sound a bit more hesitant than usual.

The Destined One narrowed his eyes, and you forced yourself to maintain the eye contact.

“Fine. Don’t take too long.”

You turned around and headed into the forest, trying to ignore his persistent stare on your back. Once the feeling had disappeared, you prepared to bolt.

Until, suddenly, a golden light enveloped you and froze you on the spot.

The leaves crunched softly under clawed feet as a certain someone approached your still figure. The Destined One stood in front of you, looking at you disapprovingly. He spread his arms wide and propped you when the spell finally broke.

“M-Monkey, I…!”

“Be quiet.”

You immediately stopped your pathetic stammering at his cold order. There was a tensed pause as he observed your anxious face.

“From now on, I’ll go wherever you go. Do you understand?”

You blanched.

And there goes what little freedom you had left.

“I said, do you understand?”

“Y-yes!” you squeaked. “Yes, of course…”

“Good. Now, let’s go.”

You could only bite your trembling lip to prevent the sobs from coming out as you let him dragged you back like a wayward child.

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huicitawrites · 9 months ago

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author's note ; a terribly trivial trope with gods!au but i still like this idea. my first attempt to write for jjk so be nice... please?🙏🏻🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

pairing ; god of war!Sukuna x goddess of love!reader

tw ; suggestive, possessive, mentions of blood, Sukuna himself is a trigger warning.

first art credit to ryoza on X, third unfortunately i don’t know, i just took it from pinterest, if u know the artist let me know.

the world outside your temple is dying.

you feel every heartbeat snuffed out like a candle in the wind, every soul extinguished under the weight of Sukuna’s brutal assault. the prayers of your people grow weaker with each passing moment, their pleas mixing with the acrid smoke rising from your city. a city, your sacred haven, you swore to protect, everything has fallen. as the goddess of Love you can do nothing but listen as your people are slaughtered by the god of War, Sukuna, and his vicious army.

yet here you stand, in your temple of marble and gold, powerless against the force that rages just beyond its doors.

then, a low groan of ancient stone pulls your attention. the great doors shudder before they’re forced open, and the breath catches in your throat. he has come.

the god of War strides into your sanctuary, and with him, the violence of the outside world bleeds into your sanctuary. his presence alone warps the very air, thickening it with malice and death. you feel it immediately — the oppressive weight of his aura, so unlike your own. it’s as if the divine purity within you is recoiling, trying to retreat from the darkness he carries with him.

he is the storm to your calm, a god forged in battle and blood, and it feels like the very walls of your temple groan under the strain of holding him. his aura is suffocating, a constant pulse of violent energy that seeps into every corner, every crevice of the sacred space, corrupting it just by being there.

delicate floral incense that used to fill your temple is swallowed by the acrid stench of blood. the faint scent of burning flesh seems to follow him, clinging to his skin and weapon. it turns your stomach, and yet all you can do is back away.

his eyes — deep red, smoldering like embers — lock onto yours with a dark amusement, the corners of his mouth lifting into a cruel grin. where you embody love and gentleness, everything about him is violence and possession. there is nothing in his gaze, but only burning hunger.

you stand before him in white, light robes, the embodiment of purity itself, but his mere presence in your temple feels like a violation, like he burning your delicate skin with his dirty, bloody hands. you can feel the sacred energy of the space twisting, recoiling from him. soft tapestries that once shimmered in the glow of the candles seem to sag as if under the weight of his power. the statues of you that line the walls — once symbols of hope for your people — seem to dim, the light in their eyes snuffed out by the God of War's corruption.

Sukuna takes a step forward, and his shadow seems to stretch across the entire hall, swallowing the light. aach step echoes like a death knell, the sound of his boots on marble a cruel reminder that he has defiled everything that was once pure. his bloodied hands drag across the white stone altar, leaving streaks of crimson on the sacred surface. It’s a deliberate act of desecration — he wants you to feel it. wants you to know that nothing here is untouched by his violence.

“you’ve built a lovely sanctuary,” he muses, voice low and mocking. “so pure. so fragile.” his eyes gleam, sharp as blades. “but like everything else you’ve created, it will fall. just like your people. just like you.”

the divine power that fills your veins feels cold now, diminished in his overwhelming presence. you, the patroness of love and purity, can do nothing to stop the wave of blood and death he brings with him.

his aura presses down on you, crushing and suffocating, smothering the breath from your lungs. it’s like standing before a predator who takes his time savoring the moment before the kill.

“look at you,” he sneers, stepping closer, his voice a twisted mockery of gentleness. “all of this love… yet you reek of weakness.”

your hands tremble at your sides, fingers curling into the fabric of your robes as if it could somehow anchor you to this space, to the divine essence that has protected you for so long. but even that protection feels fragile now, brittle under his relentless gaze. his eyes burn into you, full of something darker, more twisted — obsession.

you can feel it, his claim sinking into the very fibers of your being. Sukuna is not here to simply conquer. he has razed cities, destroyed armies — but you, you are the prize that he truly desires. his fixation on this idea, thick in the air, and it terrifies you.

“do you feel it?” his breath is hot against your skin now, his body towering over yours, radiating raw power. his voice is soft, almost intimate, as he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “you can’t escape me, Goddess. this temple, your city, your people… they were nothing more than a prelude.”

his fingers, stained with the blood of your followers, trace along the line of your jaw, leaving a smear of red on your pale skin. touch burns like fire, sending a violent shudder through your body.

Sukuna’s grin widens, sensing your fear, your hopelessness. “you were never meant to be untouchable,” he whispers darkly. “not from me. you, with all your love, purity and light… it was always meant to be broken.”

“be broken by me,” he continue, hissing venomously into your ear, voice thick with satisfaction…

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huicitawrites · 9 months ago

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His mind was long gone

But his broken body still remembered

all that you were with him; and

all that you did with him

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huicitawrites · 9 months ago

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there’s something about being at the mercy of the monkey king that I can’t stop thinking about

(yandere fanfics incoming… // btw not my art)

#sun wukong x reader #black myth wukong #journey to the west #sun wukong #jjtw #yandere wukong #wkz12345

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huicitawrites · 10 months ago

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exquisite

Tie that Binds

When you were a child, you thought you’d have the conventional wedding. You dreamed of that perfect and romantic occasion, even. The altar, the vow, the kiss, the white dress, the bridesmaids, the bells, the feast, and the guests. Such a wish stemmed from the many weddings you’d attended and the many stories you’d read; one that you assumed you’d have it too. Because why would you be an exception?

Except you were an exception, and not in a good way too.

“Sign your name here.”

A clawed finger tapped the blank spot on the documents. Marriage documents. This wasn’t perfect nor was it romantic. No, this was formal and swift. Unfortunately, you had no choice but to accept it. Not only because your soon-to-be husband was a Harbinger, but because you thought he was the no-nonsense type too. You were certain the special event in your imagination was far from his priority, let alone his desire.

Because not everyone shared your dream, right?

So, you reluctantly signed the documents, feeling the hopeless romantic side of you withered from the practicality of it all.

“Done.”

Capitano nodded. You couldn’t see his expression through the darkness of his helmet, but you concluded he was satisfied. A busy man like him must have better things to do than arranging a wedding. He probably disliked crowds and the overwhelming attention they brought. You understood it. You had to understand it. He was your husband, unromantic as he might be.

“Good.”

Even his kiss was short and direct, too. There was no long vows, no giddy smiles, or loving stares. Everything happened exactly as he wanted to, as the kind of person he was. You touched your lips, trying to preserve the lingering sensation of the kiss. His lips were dry, a bit chapped from the cold. He kissed like a husband rushing to work, or a husband who remembered to be doting in public. One might call it a peck than a proper kiss, but you could endure it. A little affection was better than nothing at all.

Capitano stood up from the chair, and almost instinctively, you grabbed his hand. It was big, calloused, and sharp. Everything that he was, everything that you weren’t.

“Will we go on a honeymoon later on?” you asked, attempting a conversational tone than a hopeful one.

“I’m afraid I have a mission for the next few days, but I should be free afterwards.”

“Oh.”

Right, he was busy. How could you forget about it so quickly? Silly you. His side of the bed would probably be empty and cold tonight, but it’d be alright. You were used to sleeping alone. You shouldn’t be clingy. Capitano wasn’t an ordinary man. He was a Harbinger and a military leader. You had to understand his schedule.

You slowly withdrew your hand from his.

“Alright, then. Good luck.”

Did a wife ever say those things to her husband? Good luck, as if you were his friend or colleague. Maybe she had. Maybe you’d be the first. What mattered was the sentiment, right?

Capitano stared down at you. He probably thought you were being silly again. Who wished the strongest man in the Fatui ‘good luck’, anyway? He promptly left with the marriage documents, his kiss acting as both a wedding and farewell gift, and you were left to smile bitterly at your own foolishness.

He wouldn’t even deign to humor you.

***

The gardener might be your only friend in this lonely mansion. He was the newest staff, hired shortly after the construction of the greenhouse was completed. You longed to see a splash of color in this monochromatic country, so you mustered your entire courage and begged Capitano to build the glasshouse. A childish and desperate wish, perhaps, for you didn’t think far enough to consider whether such a thing was possible in Snezhnaya. But somehow, he made it possible anyway, although not all plants could be bought and maintained.

Regardless, you were grateful with what you had.

The gardener was a few years younger than you, and you always delighted in teasing him, particularly in the matter of girls. He reminded you of a little brother you never had, skilful yet innocent enough for an exchange of lessons and jokes. He was your ray of sunshine and beacon of hope in this dreary matrimony. He’d never know that his presence saved you from depression, but it was fine. He didn’t need to know it. He just needed to be himself, to stay himself.

One day, you asked him about his dream wedding out of curiosity.

“My dream wedding? Well, it’s the… typical church one, of course.” said he somewhat shyly.

Your eyes lit up. You didn’t know much about men and their view of weddings, but it was always nice to know that he shared your dream.

“Really?”

“Yeah. My father once told me about it, and he looked so happy, so I want to be like that too.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet!” you gushed. “I hope you can achieve it very soon.”

He chuckled bashfully.

“Thank you.”

Suddenly, a chill ran down your spine. It wasn’t the kind you’d feel from the temperature, but from the sensation of being watched. You turned around just as he went back to his duty, scanning the glasshouse in search of the source. But there were only the two of you inside, so you reluctantly dismissed it.

***

“Do you love him?”

You blinked, somewhat dazed. Because Capitano didn’t just accuse you of infidelity, did he? Not when you didn’t remember the last time you’d stepped out of the mansion, if ever. There was always a heavy aura around him whenever you asked to leave, so you caught onto the hint and dropped the subject.

“What do you mean?”

“That gardener. Do you love him?”

“O-of course not! What prompted this on?”

“You asked him about his dream wedding. No women ever asked men such a question.”

“I…”

So that strange chill came from him. Your intuition was right, but the confirmation didn’t bring you any relief or triumph.

Capitano stepped forward, and you immediately knew what his enemies felt upon confronting him. He loomed over you; dark and cold and forbidding.

“Tell me. Do you love him?”

“No, Capitano, no!”

“So, why did you ask him that question then?”

“I don’t know! I was just curious, alright?!”

“And why did you look so happy when he told you about his ‘typical church wedding’?”

The answer stuck on your throat. You didn’t want to offend him by saying that it was your dream as well.

“Answer me.” he growled.

You flinched.

“Because I… I wanted that, too.”

Capitano fell silent, and you were unsure whether it was better than his interrogation.

“So, it was all a revenge?”

Your eyes widened.

“What?”

“It was all a revenge, wasn’t it? We didn’t have that kind of wedding, and that’s why you sought it out with him.”

“What on Teyvat are you talking about, Capitano? I didn’t ‘seek it out’ with him. I’m already married to you, remember?”

“Who knows, maybe you were planning to elope with him and have that ‘typical church wedding’ elsewhere.”

“By the Tsaritsa, I’m not cheating on you! I consider him as my own little brother! You–” Your voice cracked midway, and you mentally cursed yourself. “You have to believe me, Capitano.”

You looked down, blinking away your tears. Maintaining composure within an argument had never been your forte, no matter how much you prayed for it.

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted that kind of wedding?”

“I thought… I thought you wouldn’t like it.” you murmured.

“Why wouldn’t I like it?”

“Because you’re a practical man.”

“So?”

“I mean, you’re a busy man. You have better things to do than arranging such a thing, don’t you?”

“Nonsense. You need only to ask. Do not presume you know my thoughts.”

You looked away sheepishly.

“I’m sorry…”

Capitano sighed loudly, and you were somewhat relieved you couldn’t see his whole face right now.

“Fine.” said he resolutely. “We shall have your dream wedding.”

The sudden declaration stunned you.

“What are you…?”

“How big do you want it to be?”

You merely stared at him wide-eyed.

“How big do you want it to be, [Name]?”

“I…”

“Do you want your extended family to come or just the immediate one?”

“J-just my parents, please.”

“A small one, then? Alright, I can arrange that.”

Capitano turned around to leave, but you quickly held his hand. Immediately, you recalled the memory of signing the marriage documents that time.

“Is it really alright? I mean, we already have our honeymoon.”

“Who cares if it’s allowed or not? If you want it, you shall have it.”

You went speechless, torn between flattered and flustered. Was this really happening? Was your dream about to come true? Should you be happy because it was happening or embarrassed because it was long overdue?

Unfortunately, Capitano didn’t give you much time for a reflection because the next few weeks were filled with the wedding preparation. Various people measured your sizes and asked for your opinion on various things. You’d tried to ask for his input, but Capitano gave you total reign of the arrangement. It’d be easy to think that he was being apathetic and merely indulged your desire, but after everything that happened, and, of course, his explicit warning, you didn’t dare to assume things about him anymore. It should’ve been something you already knew, but some things needed to be learned the hard way.

The special day came. Your parents had been surprised by the sudden and belated invitation, although they did express their disappointment in the lack of a proper wedding through their letters back then. Aside from them, you also invited the whole mansion staff. From Capitano’s side, only a handful of people came; his most trusted subordinates, Arlecchino, and Pierro. Somehow, he managed to convince the Tsaritsa to bless your marriage too. Your closest maids ended up being the bridesmaids, because you’d lost contact with your friends after your matrimony. It was a bitter realization that Capitano had successfully isolated you from the outside world through his body language and packed schedule.

And now, you couldn’t even spot the gardener among the guests.

“Capitano, where is he?” you whispered.

“Who is he?”

“The gardener. I remember inviting him.”

“I fired him.”

“What?!” you hissed, catching your tone before it could be heard by the others. “Why would you do that?! He’s my friend!”

Capitano slowly turned his head towards you. Even during your wedding, he still had that helmet on.

“I’m your husband. I should be enough for you.”

You stared at him in shock as he returned his gaze to the front, where the guests were enjoying themselves to the banquet. They remained blissfully ignorant of the tension between you, and you retained a composed face for the sharper ones.

When you were a child, you thought you’d have the conventional wedding. You dreamed of that perfect and romantic occasion, even.

And it was perfect and romantic, but that didn’t mean it’d be blissful.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact #female reader #yandere capitano x reader

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huicitawrites · 10 months ago

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this is so good

I have been saving this up for months.

Time to bust my "ideas that will make me cry" folder open.

#sukuna #jjk sukuna #jjk fanart #jjk #reblog

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huicitawrites · 10 months ago

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oof

SACRIFICE Yandere God of Death x Reader

TW: 18+ ONLY, NON CON, piv sex, mentions of oral and fingering, hades and persephone type shit.

being raised as a virgin sacrifice for the god of life, only to catch the eye of the god of death.

You're just so... precious. A sweet, doe-eyed little thing. Delicate. Vulnerable. So unlike anything that lives in his dreary world. You're at your peak, a fruit ripe for harvesting - he wants to devour you.

It isn't fair, he thinks, that his counterpart gets all of the good offerings. He's drowning in gold and gemstones, but rarely is he ever offered flesh. It's an insult, really. You'd think the humans would be more generous towards the man who will one day collect their life.

The god of life is a beacon of prosperity and health, he gets temples in every city, banquets of food and wine, pretty women - there are whole festivals held in his name. Surely he can spare one measly virgin, right?

The night before you're to be sacrificed, he plucks you from his temple. It's an act of sacrilege for a god to step into another gods house of worship, but he'll get over it. You aren't special. His holiday is coming up soon anyway so there will be plenty more unfortunate women for him to collect and stick his dick into.

You're soft and warm in his arms as he carries you beneath the earth, hardly stirring as he walks you into his chambers and begins to undress you. When your lovely little eyes flutter awake, you let out a blood curdling scream.

The god of death is naked on top of you, suckling at your nipples. You're naked too, and his hands are trailing down to your - No. No.

You beg him to stop. You need to keep yourself pure, otherwise your whole village will be cursed with famine and infertility for years to come. Your body is a bargaining chip and it will lose all it's value if it's sullied. You belong to the god of life.

He growls at you to keep that name out of your mouth.

You sob as he ravages you. His little queen of death. He claims your body, wrings orgasm after orgasm out of your virgin pussy with his tongue and fingers, delighting in your cries and moans, and when he finally takes you, he's rapacious.

He plunders your weeping cunt with an insatiable greed, thrusting into you mercilessly until you're screaming and weeping under his heavy palm. Every ounce of innocence you once possessed drips onto his bedsheets, drained away with your faith in the gods. He pulls your hair, slaps your face, calls you his as he claims you. And once he's spent and you're filled with the bounty of his desire, he pulls you to his chest and promises that you will never, ever leave him.

Meanwhile, on earth, the god of life stares upon his shrine. Filled to the brim with gifts and offerings, but missing the only one he truly cared about. His reincarnated lover. The woman he's been searching for for years. The reason he started taking sacrifices in the first place.

He's been waiting centuries for this day, and you're gone.

Distraught, he sits at the altar, hanging his head in frustration until he sees something glitter in the corner of his eye.

Just behind the sacrificial bed lies a few golden coins and a blood red ruby - something that strikes him as odd. Typically he's gifted organic matter - food, drink, animals. He doesn't receive gems and gold as offerings.

But when he remembers who does, the sky grows dark and the earth rumbles in rage.

suguru geto + satoru gojo, hajime iwaizumi + tooru oikawa, aizawa shouta + hizashi yamada, bakugo katsuki + izuku midoriya, bakugo katsuki + kirishima eijiro

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huicitawrites · 11 months ago

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literally, this is how i write him

you’ve got no idea how dangerous of a yandere sukuna can be bc he does not care about anything and anyone until you come around and monopolize his entire attention and he’s got so much room in him to fixate on you

#yandere #yandere jjk #yandere sukuna #sukuna x reader #yandere sukuna x reader

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huicitawrites · 11 months ago

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Omen of the Cursed

Yandere! Ryomen Sukuna x Fem! Reader

TW: depictions of abuse, gore, mentions of suicide (non-descriptive), yandere

THE KING OF CURSES sits casually at the edge of the village well, biding his time. Two muscular arms support his weight on the cobblestone, while another relaxes on his knee, and his fourth is busy—clutching a decapitated head in his clawed hand.

Crimson stains adorn the tips of his fingers, and his feet are smeared with blood. Puddles gather in abundance throughout the village, and the earthy streets are littered with bodies and dismembered remains.

He has killed every single one of them.

He enjoyed it.

He relished in their screams and their agony: men, women, children, the elderly. They all sounded the same in the end, squealing and wailing like lowly pigs sent to slaughter.

At first, the village men tried to fight back, but once he claimed his first victim—his Dismantle technique turning a man into a mangled heap of flesh—they began to shriek and run. When they realized there was no escape, they started to beg.

Some cried for their children; others, for their lovers or themselves. It was amusing to observe how far they would go for survival. They offered everything they had: the village's meager gold, their wheat, their rice, their sheep. When they sensed his dissatisfaction, they turned on one another, offering up their wives, their children, their kin—one even stabbed his own brother and threw the corpse at his feet, declaring a desperate loyalty.

Yet, the King of Curses had come to finish what was started, he took their lives one by one, laughing maniacally in ecstasy and joy.

And so, he sits amidst his carnage—waiting.

The best was yet to come.

He tosses the head in his hand, its expression of horror still etched on the pale face as it rolls across the ground, leaving a trail of blood. He shakes his hand to rid himself of the crimson droplets before resting his four-eyed face atop it. His glaring eyes fixate on the village entrance, marked by a large, old Torii gate.

He recalls the day you abandoned him.

He remembers it all too well.

Ryomen Sukuna was born a cursed, unwanted little wretch.

Everyone believed it and treated him as such: the adults and elders in the village, who instilled their beliefs in their children. Even his own father abandoned him as a mere babe, leaving the village under the moon of Sukuna's birth. His mother, on the other hand, took her own life shortly after he learned to walk.

The villagers whispered rumors of a sibling he had devoured while still in his mother's womb.

Everyone despised him, and so young Sukuna began to despise them too—except for one.

You.

You probably knew of Sukuna as ‘an ill omen’ and ‘a cursed child forsaken by the very gods,’ but what surprised him was your disregard for the villagers' cruel words.

(He remembers the first day you met.)

“Hey,” your soft voice called to him in the village woods. He wore dirty, ragged clothes that contrasted with your colorful kimono. “Do you want to play with me?��

“Go away,” he spat, leaning back against the trunk of a tree, pretending to ignore you.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a playful smirk. You crouched by the river, scavenging for the perfect pebble—a flat little rock. To your delight, you found a twin of it, and with both rocks in hand, you approached the bitter boy.

“Here, you have one,” you tossed him a pebble. “I’ll show you.” Your squeaky voice was impossible to ignore, drawing his gaze as you meticulously adjusted your stance. He recognized the blue fire coating the rock in your hand. His eyes widened, and a single thought sprang to mind.

‘Is this girl cursed like me?’

You threw the pebble expertly, and it bounced across the water’s surface three times.

“Did you see that?! Say it was cool, right?! Your turn now; it’ll be fun!” You jumped excitedly, pointing at the lake with a wide, joyous smile.

Sukuna snapped out of his thoughts and concealed his amazement. He didn’t want to admit it then, but it was a very cool shot. With a blank stare, he picked up the pebble at his feet and mirrored your stance. He held it between the tips of his fingers, took a deep breath, and unleashed his own blue fire. The pebble soared from his hand, bouncing farther and more times than yours.

You sparkled with wonder. “Say, can you teach me that? You can see it too, the blue fire!” Your tiny hands clasped his for a jolly handshake.

He remembers the burning embarrassment on his face, nodding and stuttering when you said, “Say… Let’s be friends!”

Back then, you were children who became great friends. You were so different, yet inseparable. You were a pretty daughter: kind, gentle, obedient, playful, and pampered by strict but loving parents.

On the opposite end, he was the village’s outcast. Shooed away from stores, despised by everyone. Parents forbade their children from being near him, adults mistreated him without remorse, and even the village priests scorned him.

Yet you laughed at his antics instead of scorning him. You cheered him on and even sewed him clothes out of spare cloth. You helped him flee when villagers chased him with pitchforks and torches and snuck him food or tea.

Like a moth to a flame, he basked in your warm kindness. As you two grew, he coveted your friendship, wishing for eternity with you by his side.

But as your teenage years approached adulthood, things began to change. While Sukuna detached from the village and its obligations, you became bound by expectations. Your mother filled your days with lessons on housewife duties—sewing, cooking, and manners—while your father began seeking suitors.

You wanted none of it; your spirit longed to explore the world, but your heart was tethered to your family, making it difficult to ignore your parents' wishes.

In a moment of desperation, he proposed an idea, but you laughed incredulously.

“So you say we ‘run away,’” you cocked your head. “I can’t just leave my parents behind. What kind of daughter would I be after all they’ve given me?”

He wanted to protest, to argue that he could take care of you, but you added, “Besides, we need money. A marriage would solve their issues. Yet…”

“I could marry you,” he blurted out.

The words spilled from his lips impulsively, and though he masked his bitterness, a knot tightened in his throat when you laughed.

“My parents would never give their blessings, they’d disown me first.”

“I’m not that bad of a choice.”

“Sure, a boy who steals and has no care or responsibilities makes a decent candidate,” you quipped.

He knew you meant no harm and understood the frustration behind your words. But he stood up and left, even as you apologized. You were speaking the truth. He was still an unworthy boy—weak, poor, a disgrace.

He couldn’t intervene as you left the village.

Three days before your departure, a foreign man appeared. Older, yet toned, with a staff in hand, he seemed a wandering monk- he later realized the old monk was a pesky sorcerer. He should have killed him back then.

The sorcerer interrupted one of your encounters, pointing his staff at you. His eyes sparkled with glee before darkening in disgust as they fell upon him.

Surely, he saw the monster would become - no, the one he was. The hate, the fury, the greed brewing in his dark heart.

The monk spoke with you, offering escape if you became his apprentice. Under the guise of holy work and financial compensation, your parents agreed to send you away.

“I’m leaving, then,” you stuttered, eyes cast down. You couldn't meet his dark crimson gaze, knowing the look of betrayal hiding beneath your stoic facade.

“I will come back to visit; I promise, Ryo,” you said, the pet name spilling from your lips with sweetness, but he huffed in response.

“I will be here waiting, [Y/n].”

Ryomen Sukuna left the same night you departed. He had nothing left in the village and without your presence, he could tolerate the shithole no more.

Two and a half decades passed.

He left as a cursed boy and returned as the feared King of Curses—Ryomen Sukuna.

As he stared at the Torii gate, his foot bounced impatiently, fingers tapping against the cobblestone edge.

Soon, a figure emerged in the distance—a traveler on a mule, donning a kasa. For a moment, he mistook you for the damned sorcerer monk, but he felt your familiar cursed energy. It seems you grew stronger through the years as well.

A wicked grin spread across his face, revealing sharp teeth and fangs. His four bloodshot eyes widened and pupils dilated in anticipation.

Finally, you crossed the gate.

“Welcome back,” the King of Curses greeted. “Do you like my welcome gift?” He gestured to the bodies and blood scattered throughout the devastated village.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you pulled back your kasa, revealing a solemn expression on a beautiful face. To Sukuna’s surprise, your eyes held no disgust, fear, or even anger, only a pitiful gaze that irritated him.

“Did you enjoy it?” you asked, ignoring his question. He huffed, wondering if you were attempting to seek a glimpse of that playful childhood friend.

The King of Curses laughed at your question, finding it absurd given the answer was obvious. “I found it most delightful,” he cooed.

Slowly, he detached himself from the well and stood before you. Even a few meters away, you could see the transformation he had undergone. He had become a beast—two extra eyes and arms, a mouth in his abdomen, a colossal build, and black curse markings embroidering his skin.

“It’s true then,” you sighed. “You’ve become the King of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna.”

“Tis how I’m called now.” It struck him as strange to hear his full name from you. “I must say it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“How many have you killed by now?”

“I’ve lost count, darling.” Your frown deepened, and Sukuna’s smile widened. He noted how tightly you clutched the reins and how your body tensed. “My father and mo—”

“I’ve killed them both,” he cut you off, grinning wickedly. “Their deaths were slow and painful.”

“Ah…”

Now it gets exciting, he mused, watching as fury consumed your expression. This was the response he craved—a little punishment for abandoning him, if you will.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to hold back sobs.

“I have come to slay you, curse,” you spat, mixing pity with spite. You clutched the cloak around you, prying it off to reveal white and red Miko clothing. You held a shakujō, likely a cursed tool.

This was not the first time someone had come to exact vengeance upon him, and it wouldn’t be the last.

However, it would be the last time you left him.

The King of Curses made the first move, closing the distance between you in the blink of an eye. He lunged forward, delivering a devastating blow.

You leapt from your mule, who perished instantly. Your body shivered from his overwhelming strength.

Sukuna continued his relentless assault. Blow after blow, all you could do was dodge—there was no time to parry or block.

In a fleeting moment of opportunity, as you rolled away and encountered his exposed back, you swung your staff, chanting, “Cleanse.”

A blinding explosion of cursed energy erupted against him, bright light streaming from the metal adornments of your staff.

For a moment, you thought you had succeeded—what a fool you were.

He was the King of Curses, after all; he was no longer ‘Ryo.’

Sukuna remained unfazed, standing with his back turned to you. Before you could gauge the danger, one of his lower arms seized your staff, crushing it into splinters. He turned, crimson irises meeting yours.

“Was that all, [Y/n]?”

He reveled in your shock, and before you could distance yourself, he conjured his own spell. “Cleave!”

Hundreds of cuts ripped through your skin, blood gushing from every wound. You choked and coughed, your body crashing to the ground in a futile struggle for breath.

“Does it hurt?” he taunted, voice dripping with venom. Lifting his chin, he added, “This is but a taste of how I felt back then when you turned your back on me, spurning me like everyone else.”

He loomed over you, body casting a shadow. The wicked grin evaporated from his face, voice turning serious. “I find the fear in your eyes delicious. It’s a satisfying punishment for what you did to me.”

Crouching down, he drew forth a hand ignited with cursed energy. Not the familiar blue you knew, but a clear white. You had never witnessed such a technique, your weary mind too occupied to marvel.

Sukuna hovered his hand over your wounds, and in a short time, you found yourself healed, yet the damage had already been done—the fighting, the murder of people.

The King of Curses encircled you with his four arms, lifting you as a husband would lift his wife. Despite the tenderness once present in the boy you knew, you turned your head to avoid his gaze.

He scowled at your rejection; your silent tears pierced his resolve more than any weapon. One hand cupped your cheek, forcing your gaze back to his monstrous face.

"Spurn me no more, I will not let you, not again", he warned, his fingers digging into your skin.

“You’ve become a monster—what their words condemned.”

“I’ve become a king.”

“-of curses.” You cut him off.

His many eyes narrowed, “So what? Human or curse, it matters not in the face of strength,” he said nonchalantly against your melancholy. “All that matters is that I am strong now and that we are reunited. Even if you spurn me, I will make you love me again.”

He sighed, his voice as soft as a whisper.

“The boy you knew may be gone, but you will learn to love the man he has become,” Sukuna assured, his four eyes gazing back at you with an affection that twisted your gut, making your heart race in fear. He began moving toward the Torii gate, carrying you as if you were caged in his embrace.

He inhaled your sweet scent— it reminded him of the home he never had, the one he desires to build with you by his side.

“Finally,” he lowered his face to yours, “we are together again.”

His lips tasted of iron and yours tasted divine.

#yandere #yandere writing #yandere blog #yandere sukuna x reader #yandere sukuna #yandere fanfiction #self insert #female reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #yandere jjk x reader #yandere jjk #jjk x reader

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