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aurawrawr · 6 months

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I adore you too much to hate you now

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna x afab! brown reader

This short fic is written mostly in second person PoV. Character has a name but it's not heavily used. I'm about to ferally self-insert into the following work.

The fic is set in a feudal time period so there are themes of prostitution and non-con/dub-con included.

Minors, DNI. Word count: 2.9k.

CW: themes of bloodshed, prostitution, scars, little bit of non-con/dub-con, description of smut, oral sex (f! receiving), voyeurism, auralism, submission, worship, PIV, Sukuna's true form (no smut with true form); Uraume is an Oiran (with they/them pronouns) [no, I won't explain it]

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who fucks a different working woman of the household every night because none of them satisfies him enough for a double take. Concubines visit his palace in rotations. Some never make their way out.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who despises the cooks in his household — why is the rice never soft, curry too salty, fish not salted enough, soba soggy, desserts always dry? He has killed many a cook, replaced them with new ones, only to be disappointed in a different way.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who does not care who is hired in the kitchens, in the lawns, to clean, to wash his clothes, to keep it all running, but turns the house upside down if anything in his chambers is out of place.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who switches between his real form and human form depending on who he's with. Only Uraume has ever seen his true form, the Oiran who trains and dresses the girls before sending them to Sukuna's bed.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who takes one bite of a non-Japanese cuisine and his eyes blow wide in wonderment. He demands to see the cook immediately.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who looks at you once, drinks in all your amber glory with his lustful gaze, before asking, "What's for dessert?" You still haven't learned to speak or understand Nihongo so you must rely on Uraume-hime to talk on your behalf. All you know is to keep your sight fixed on the Lord's feet. Puny, filthy humans must never lock eyes with Sukuna-sama. Nobody told you so but you came to that conclusion yourself by the way the Oiran kept pushing your head down while in the Lord's chambers.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who groans, shifts in his seat when Uraume-hime tells him something in Nihongo. Before you know it, your hands are being pulled by two other women. You are laid on your back, the hem of your robe pushed up to your hips. You pull your thighs tight together, whispering words of resistance in your tongue, words unintelligible to the Lord.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who is intrigued by your foreignness. In his thick, all-knowing voice, he asks you something from between your legs. In his language, but you've been asked this before several times so you know the answer. "Anata no namaê wa?" He asks. You still can't see his face.

And you answer, Aparajita. The name of a beautiful blue flower laid at your God's feet as an offering. Literal meaning, unconquered. Your mother had given you the name, in hopes that you won't end up on the same path as herself. That you will escape the brothels of Bengal and find your own place in the world. Her dreams had come quite true, you had escaped. Only to then find yourself at the mercy of a creature you didn't quite understand.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who plays with your name on his tongue while his fingers play on your clit. Your hips have to be held down by Uraume-hime because of how much he's making you shiver with the most minimal touches. You've grown up in a bordello, even spent a night in a Japanese bathhouse before finding this job in Sukuna-sama's kitchen, but never have you heard of the woman being on the receiving end of pleasure.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who holds lengthy discussions with Uraume-hime while three of his fingers are knuckle-deep inside you. You have a palm over your mouth to keep you from gasping out but it's promptly removed by one of the women. When you look at her, she has nothing to say, only knotted eyebrows and a gaze filled with guilt. You know this will probably happen again, maybe you will be the one holding someone down, and you'll have the same guilt on your face.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who delights in the sound of you, pauses all conversations and trains his ears to your honeydew voice. When he places his mouth on your flesh, the pleasure tears you apart. Needy moans leak from your lips while he laps at you, taking his fill of dessert.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who wants you in his chambers every night now. And he wants you to understand what he's saying without Uraume translating and gesturing. It wastes a lot of time. Time he'd rather spend burying his cock down your pretty, mauve pussy. So he gets you a tutor. You are to spend your days learning Nihongo — initially spoken language only — and cooking for Sukuna-sama, and nights in his bed, face down, ass up, crying as loud as you can because that's what gets him off. Your voice.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who doesn't realize how long it has been since he's seen a different woman. You satiate him, more than enough.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who doesn't realize that he's slowly starting to wonder if he's enough for you. He watches you all day from the landing of his first floor quarters as you do your duties in the yard. Your dedication to learning a new language just for his sake is mesmerizing. How your delicate fingers wrap around the stem of the brush as you learn to draw the alphabet. The way your lips move as you repeat the tutor's words. When you sit down to cook for him, your leadership invigorates him. You assign jobs to others, teach the new hires how to mix spices, dice vegetables, stoke the coal until it's burning bright. He curses under his breath when the fire iron lands on the side of your feet, scalding your skin, making you hiss out in pain.

You laugh it off when someone brings you a mug of water, the sound of your joy enchanting to Sukuna-sama. He decides the fate of that coal poker. You're busy wrapping a piece of cloth around your wound when, out of nowhere, the iron rod catches on crimson hot fire. It scares your colleagues but you know exactly whose work that is.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who heals your wound when you're lying in his bed, freshly fucked, your back facing him since you're still not allowed to look at him. You've tried to leave wordlessly several nights but his strong arms have held you back, whispering a stern yet somehow soft "Tomaru." So you leave in the mornings and he watches with sleepy eyes as you drape your saree around yourself, clean and fix his bedchamber before leaving. He is a tiger when he fucks — he'd lay you down on any flat surface, take as long as he wants. The only criteria is he should be able to hear you. It's only collateral that the room would be in absolute disarray, left for you to fix lest Sukuna-sama's wrath befalls the entire household.

You sit up, alarmed, when you feel his hand on your feet. In your culture, only a child touches a woman's feet. Definitely not the Lord of the house, and definitely not the man whose bed you sleep in every night. He may not be human anymore, but he is your King, he is who you submit to. In a way, Sukuna-sama is your God and you are the flower at his feet.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who doesn't know that all his efforts and adjustments are being duly noted and silently appreciated. You wanted to wear sarees and ghagras instead of the furisode so Uraume-hime allowed it, even going to the extent of bringing in a tailor for you; you knew it was not their decision to make. When he noticed the dryness of your hands, of your back, he ordered for butter and cream to be made in abundance so the women of the household can use them for cosmetic purposes. The only woman he cared to have softer skin was you. When a beggar invaded your kitchen, he brought his trident to the doorway only to find them with a plate full of food, relinquishing their appetite. He may be a King, but you are his Goddess of peace, surfeit, pleasure, warmth — everything, everything nice.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who wants to know the color of your eyes — see for himself, not hear from Uraume how black your pupils are, it's like you absorb all the light of the world and reflect nothing back. It's not subtle that the Oiran despises you but Sukuna-sama knows they won't let a finger on you without his permission.

It's not like you've never looked at him. When he paces the yard in his crimson and black robe, sometimes in his white and blue robe, you're taken aback by his form, his posture, his powerful gait. The thick black lines on his face and wrists have always made you curious. The extra pair of eyes add a layer of smugness to his persona. One night, when he is tossing and turning in his sleep, you find yourself driven by urges you can't describe, to look at him. You give in. His broad back is marred by scars — slashes, burns, puncture wounds galore. And that forms more questions in your mind. If he can heal you, why doesn't he heal himself?

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who has always fucked you from behind, been satisfied with your voice guiding him to your peaks and lows. But tonight, he wants to see your face contort with pleasure when he settles his thick cock inside you. All his conviction flies out the window when he looks at you, helpless, shaking, not knowing where to look because nobody prepared you for this. He loses control, hungrily kissing your lips — something he has never done before — leaving marks on your jaw and neck. When he grabs your tits, and sinks his teeth on your fat, you cry out. You didn't know having the Lord feed on you would drive you so crazy, it would coax something unthinkable out of your mouth. Moans and gasps go eat grass, Sukuna-sama didn't know being called his name by his lovely, honey-skinned lover could send him deeper into his void of lust. And not just any name. Not even Sukuna-sama. You whisper, Ryo-sama. Ryo-sama. Like you've been thinking about this ever since he first touched you. Like you've been saying this name behind your sealed lips all these nights. He hasn't been called Ryo for years, never by anybody other than his human mother.

You've done it now. This is as far as you go, as far as your mother's ambitious naming could push you. When he pulls out of you and makes you sit up, all you know to do is bow to him, forehead touching the floor between the two of you. "Sumimasen. Sumimasen. Sumimasen, Sukuna-sama." You keep whispering in your awkward yet earnest accent.

He shifts on his knees, awkward for the first time ever in his immortality. "Look at me."

You keep your eyes trained to the ground, shaking your head.

"Look at me, Paro." His voice is surprisingly mild, like he's only amused. Paro is his name for you, chosen at first for convenience during moments of passion, but soon it became a name of ownership, nobody else could call you Paro, and now... it's something else.

"Is this a test, my Lord?" You're scared. You've been scared of him before. This is not something new.

"Look at me."

"You can make me look at you whenever you want, my Lord."

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who has never apologized to anyone, never pleaded. He never needed to, he is the King. He is so powerful, his blood boiling with cursed magic, he can take several lives with a flick of his wrist, instill fear in the common man just by revealing his true form. Here he is, sitting in front of a woman who cooks for him, keeps his household tidy, his cock warm. You have him wrapped around your pinky; you could poison his food, castrate him when he's hard, stab him once he's asleep with you in his arms. But you don't. You've either lost hope in life or your heart to him. He hopes it's the latter.

"P-please." He says under his breath. "Please look at me, Paro."

Your eyes shoot up in disbelief. The Lord pleading with you? Begging you? If Uraume-hime hears of it, they'd make sure you don't live to see another day. But, you don't care. Right now, you're swimming in the blood sea of your Ryo-sama's eyes. What a crime it is to have kept this vision from you! You don't want to look at anything else ever again. But your heart is feeble. You're afraid if you stare, you will end up offending him. So you try to look away but he catches your face in his grasp, squeezing your chin, tilting it up. He breathes on your face, on your mouth. "Is there anything in your heart for me?"

You nod. Not because you're scared of the consequences of telling him otherwise, not because you have nowhere else to go, but because it's true.

"You adore me?"

You nod again.

"Look at me, Paro. I don't want to have to tell you that again." You meet his eyes. "This is not my true form. I conceal it so as to not scare you."

"You scare me enough already, my Lord."

Sukuna laughs. After months of being in each other's company, you finally feel the tension easing. "I don't have a heart, Paro, but there's a warmth in me, somewhere, for you too. Maybe it is love."

"Maybe only lust."

"I've lived long enough to know the difference."

You avert your gaze and bow to him again. "Sumimasen, Sukuna-sama. I shouldn't have questioned you." You touch his feet like your mother had taught you to do with elders and idols of Gods and Goddesses. He is both to you. You're not sure where he learnt it from but every time you have done this before, he has placed a hand on your head, as if to bless you. This time, he takes your wrist to his mouth to kiss it.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who wants to trust you with his true form. He wants to tell you how he came to be cursed with that body, what he had done to deserve immortality, an eternity of wealth, monstrous glory and fame but also peerless, loveless, cold torture. He wants you by his side, not for a brief era of his limbo, but forever. Yet, he's sure you wouldn't want that kind of power. Your strength is in your altruism. To ask you to be by his side for centuries, maybe even millenia, will be to burden you, to keep you from ten where angels like you belong.

"Do you want me to see your true form, my Lord?" You read his mind.

"Would you like to see the real me? Aren't you afraid? I'm sure you've heard Uraume talk about it."

You toy with the answer in your head for some time. You are afraid. But you know he is probably more scared. So you ask, "Are you afraid I'll be repulsed, my Lord?"

He doesn't answer. You know him more than he wants to admit.

"I adore you too much to hate you now, my Lord." You confess. In a bold stunt, you raise yourself on your knees and put your hands around his neck. You can feel your shoulders tense in fear. But when his arms engulf you, you relax a little. You place your lips near his, desperate for his touch and he gives it to you. He kisses you fervently, smooches after smooches, tongues over each other, his strong hands kneading your skin because he needs your skin.

You gasp when it happens. It's not slow. It starts with the loving pads of his fingers being replaced by sharp nails. He holds your head tightly to his as he changes, denying you a glance until he's fully transformed. Your legs detach from the floor when he picks you up, hooking your feet behind his waist. You feel yourself rising against gravity, your thighs being pulled apart to capacity around his abdomen. All is still well, until you feel two more hands on you, something rough on your face, and something wet and slimy against your belly.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who has never been ashamed, intimidated, now looking at you, wondering what you think of the villain who stands in front of you, asking you to love him regardless of how vile he is. You... you still want him, that's all there is to it. You look at his four muscular arms, the ghastly mask covering half of his face, the tongue sticking out of his abdomen, and most surprisingly, his two penises, and you still want him. All you're thinking of is how you can pleasure this him. He kneels in front of you, an act of submission, and he's still as tall as you are standing. You finally understand why only his bedroom has such a high roof.

You take his face in your hands, both the softer, a little human side and the rough, grotesque side, and you declare, "Ryo-sama, I will start a religion in your name, carve an idol akin to your true form, and tell people of your ire and also your sincerity. If you let me."

please don't copy my work, or publish it elsewhere without my consent. all banners are from pinterest.

I felt like cooking so there is a second part. Go, read that too.

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