#ryomen x reader

[deathofacupid]

"you have pretty eyes," you murmur, looking up at sukuna. his hands are on the sides of you, your arms hung over his neck. his leaky tip is lined up, poking your swollen clit, just between your thighs.

you've seemed to catch him off guard, because he shifts above you, snorting. "pretty? i do not believe i have heard that one, yet, petal."

you giggle. "that's absurd. they are pretty." soft sex with sukuna is such a rare, fleeting thing. because, well, he didn't care for it. he preferred it rough, mean, and unforgiving.

and, most of the time, you were qualm-less — content with getting railed in thirty different positions, all sure to leave you deadly sore in the morning.

sometimes, though? you just want to be held. and, those times, you're lucky enough for him to just want to hold you.

you're such a small thing, lying there beneath him. it leaves him in awe, at times. so fragile, so delicate. his petal.

"good to know," he says, clearly resisting the urge to roll his eyes, though a ghost of a smile flickers across his face. sukuna bottoms out, gently, quietly grunting.

"fuck..." he mutters, "'s fuckin' tight f'me." his words grow slurred, and are accompanied by your moans. it takes him only a couple seconds, angling himself just right to hit that spot.

"oh- 'kuna, please-please-please-please, just like that," you coo, eyes falling shut. his warmth is homey, and you don't think you ever want to leave. sukuna, contrary to his normal appearance, is everything honey. he is sticky and sweet, and addicting all at the same time.

you cum in sync with him, soft mewls leaving your throat. he curses into the crook of your neck, letting himself inhale your scent. it's familiar. sukuna doesn't pull out, no, not yet. his cock softens inside you, and in this moment, you are one and the same with him.

there's nothing keeping you apart, and he swears this is the most intimate thing he's ever done. and, that? that is a blessing from you, one he is so grateful for.

"i love you," you pant. you find yourself, once more, gazing into his deep, crimson eyes. so, so pretty.

without a beat of hesitance, from where there used to be, "i love you, too."

for @jeonwiixard <3

[cyberyam]

sukuna smut? pleaseeEeeEE?

ꨄ summary: sukuna is hungry [for pussy]!!! [MDNI 18+!!]

You were fucking delicious.

After an eternity of denial from worldly pleasure, he ached. Aching for pleasure he had long been deprived of, he practically begged to have a taste of you, begged to be between your legs every chance he got, no matter the scenario.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmured in your ear, his voice thick with need as you stood at the sink, rinsing vegetables for dinner. His hands were already on you, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing the soft warmth of your stomach.

“You know I’d rather eat somethin’ else.” His teeth grazed your earlobe, his breath heavy and slow, like he was savoring your scent, drinking in the heat of your skin. His fingers traced along your waist, gripping with just enough pressure to remind you how badly he wanted you.

“Yeah, well, I need to eat—y’know—food,” you countered, trying to keep your focus on the potatoes beneath your hands. But he was relentless.

“I got somethin’ for ya,” he rasped, pressing his hips into you, letting you feel just how hard he was—hot and thick against your ass, his need pulsing through the layers between you.

His mouth found your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses, tongue flicking against the sensitive spot just below your ear. “C’mon, just a taste,” he whispered, voice rough with desire. His fingers traced slow, teasing circles down your hips, knowing exactly how to break you.

The heat of his breath, the way his body molded against yours, the desperate edge in his voice—it always made you weak. He knew.

Before you could protest, he had you on the kitchen counter, knocking everything aside in his desperation. You would scold him about how carelessly he threw everything aside, and he would just grumble something about cleaning it later. His grip was rough, hands spreading you open like he couldn’t stand another second without you. You gasped at the sudden movement, but he only groaned, pressing his forehead to your thigh, his breath searing against your skin.

“You have no idea how badly I need this,” he muttered, voice hoarse. His hands slid up your thighs, thumbs pressing into your flesh, kneading, worshipping. He was shaking with restraint, his hunger insatiable, his mouth parting just above where you ached for him. His teeth found your underwear, pulling them to the side to expose your glistening hole that puckered, responding to his hot breath.

And then, finally, his tongue found you.

He groaned at the first taste, the vibration of it sending sparks up your spine. His arms hooked under your thighs, holding you still, his grip almost bruising as he lapped between your folds, deep and deliberate, savoring you.

“Fuck, ‘kuna” you gasped, your back arching, your fingers tangling in his hair ah his pace quickened, tugging, urging him closer, and this only fed his hunger.

He’d stand, folding you into yourself and forcing your feet over your head as your knees tucked into your chest, only so he could deepen his reach, his hands trailing down calves, gripping them tight so you couldn’t move.

“‘kuna!” you groaned at the way his tongue fucked you, deep and sloppily, and when he’d pull away, the way his teeth grazed at your clit sent a shock through your body as he mumbled—

“You like that, baby?”

And when you came, he took it all—lapping, drinking and slurping you in like he’d never get enough, holding you down as you trembled, refusing to let you go, no matter how much you writhed beneath him.

And then he’d fuck you once you came, eyes fixed on the way his cock vanished into you, mesmerized by how greedily you took him, how wet you were for him, the slick, filthy sounds only spurring him on as he pounded into you.

“Fuck, baby, you take me so well,” he’d coo, his eyes darting between your pussy and the fat tears that streamed down your face as you bit your wrist.

And he’d want to return the favour to your pussy—pulling out, dragging you to the edge of the counter, his grip firm as he lifted your hips—and you knew it would leave a bruise. Your ass high, your thighs shaking as his mouth met your sopping heat, his mind filled with nothing but the desire to devour you until you came for him again. And then—only then—when you were sobbing and shivering beneath him, would he fuck you again, giving into your pleads to be filled. Pushing you into the cold kitchen counter as he stretched you open, filling you until you were nothing but a drooling mess under his touch.

an. inspo taken from irl events, a guy asked if he could “have a taste” and it made me cringe, so now i share that cringe with you all. (i’m sorry anon)

© cyberyam

[matumogs]

Urghhhhh 🤬💘 he deffo got us in our feels 😩😫

— part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6 !

college! sukuna was fucked. not only had he, the campus playboy, fallen in love. he had also made his said dream girl cry. and now you were ignoring him. no matter how much he tried he tried to talk to you, or push you in a corner, you refused to talk to him.

sukuna had tried every trick in the book. approaching you after class, coming to your dorm, talking to you in break time. it was getting desperate at this point, and oh, if his friends weren’t eating this up by now.

“you’re fucking pathetic, y’know that?” toji laughed mockingly as sukuna once again attempted to grab your attention at lunch. “didn’t ever think i’d see the sukuna this down bad for a girl,” gojo joined in.

“shut the fuck up, both of you. what’s so bad about apologizing? get off my fucking dick,” he retorted back. though neither gojo or toji were stopping there.

“you used to fuck a different girl every night, now you’ve been chasing after the same girl like a dog for weeks,” toji commented.

“a girl that hates you no less,” gojo snickered, “you’d get on all fours if it meant she’d forgive you, wouldn’t you?”

“if you two don’t shut the fuck up, i’m beating both of your asses up in front of everyone,” he scowled.

sukuna was seething. his friends wouldn’t shut the fuck up (when would they ever?), you were avoiding him at every chance you got, and he couldn’t get his mind off what happened. he felt like killing someone at this point.

you, on the other end, were getting sick of this. you were still in a foul mood from the 49% you got on the project, the same project you busted your ass off for. and sukuna still wasn’t giving up, though you weren’t giving him the light of day at all.

though, unfortunately, sukuna was very persistent, and he would catch up to you.

you were walking along the empty halls, a little late to class. but you felt somewhat at ease, which was the first time in days. that was until your vision was blocked by someone.

sukuna had yet again cornered you. “where you going, y/n?” he asked, looking down at you. you were not in the mood to deal with him, especially not right now.

“get the hell out of my way,” you snarled. he didn’t flinch at your irritated tone, and your blood started boiling once more when you notice the sides of his lips curling up into a smirk.

“aw, still pissed about last week? y’know i didn’t mean shit, y/n,” sukuna replied, though he seemed more genuine than taunting.

“i don’t give a shit. get out of my way,” you responded in annoyance. then, he had the audacity to grab your wrist when you started walking, pulling you back.

“listen, i’m sorry for making you cry, i didn’t think you’d be this fucking upset about it,” sukuna apologized, but it still didn’t make up for how you were feeling.

“great, man, now let me go,” you mumbled. you felt his grip tighten slightly.

“c’mon baby, i already apologized, what else do you want me to do?” he questioned, his tone growing less calm.

“for you to leave me the fuck alone, sukuna! jeez, man, how much clearer am i supposed to get? i don’t want to talk to you. you ruined this stupid project that i put my blood, sweat and tears into, and you didn’t do crap!” you told him sternly, before ripping your wrist out of his hold.

you grumbled a few irritated things under you breath, getting to class. and there went the feeling of peace you felt this morning.

sukuna thought he couldn’t be even more down bad for you, well, he was wrong. the way you stood up to his shit, oh girl, he was crazy about you.

he stood there in silence. should he drop this, and should he drop you? yes. will he do that? nah, absolutely not. he was in love, and pissed off you weren’t talking to him. that man wasn’t stopping at anything until you forgave him.

──★˙🍓̟!! okay guys wrap it up this is getting insane😭😭 again i feel so flattered with all the likes, comments and reblogs!!! and i’m sorry for this part idk, really more a filler part than anything im sorry, but part 7 is the last part!! it’s going to take a little longer because i attend to make it the longest part yet, so stay tuned 😝😝

— taglist ! @imlikeacoffeeconnoisseur @totallygyomeiswife @sukubusss @seizecherry @xlilycoco @v1x3n @go-go-gadget-autism @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @paradisestarfishh @whosmarjj @aquariusscollection @satorushousewife @rwirxles @anonnieghost @bitchpleaseeeeeeeeee @iminloveweveryone @poopooindamouf @phisen @ryomku @erintaro @clp-84 @mastermasterlist1p1 @katsukiseyebrows @iioveoldermen @happy2delivur @jup1tersuccubus 🍓

[fangdokja]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 ~ 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙩𝙝𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙨

Sukuna doesn’t eat pussy.

He’s made that clear before—scoffing at the idea, dragging other men for being weak enough to worship some bitch between her thighs.

And yet.

Here he is.

His mouth locked deep against your cunt, tongue fucking into you like a man possessed.

It started as a joke—something cruel, something teasing. He’d pinned you down, fingers digging into your thighs, leaning in like he was mocking you.

“Bet you think I wouldn’t do it, huh?” he’d sneered. “Bet you think you’re too special.”

You are special.

Because now, he’s ruined.

His hands keep you spread wide, keeping you from closing your legs even as you squirm. His tongue is everywhere, licking, sucking, groaning as he devours you.

And it’s driving him insane.

It was supposed to be just once. Just a taste. But the second he got his mouth on you, he knew—he knew—he was fucking done for.

The way you twitch, the way you shudder when he flicks his tongue just right—the way you cry when he sucks on your clit, like you’re gonna fucking break—

He can’t stop.

And he hates it.

Hates how hard he is, leaking in his jeans, humping the mattress like some needy fucking virgin while he eats you out. Hates that he’s been here for minutes—hours—doesn’t fucking know anymore, because the only thing in his mind is you.

You, gasping.

You, whining.

You, getting sloppier each time his tongue fucks into you.

He pulls back just enough to sneer, “Fuckin’ disgusting, babe,” voice rough, wrecked. “Look at you. So fuckin’ wet, just ‘cause I’m eating you up—”

You whimper, trying to twist away, but he growls, pins you, and sucks your clit between his teeth.

Your legs shake.

“Oh, yeah,” he pants, smirking against your folds. “That’s it, sweetheart. Give me another one.”

You try to push him away, but he latches back on, groaning, tongue flicking, rolling, tasting.

And you break.

You scream, hips jerking up, thighs trembling around his head. Your cunt pulses against his mouth, and he fucking growls, rutting against the mattress like a fucking dog.

And then he’s moving—flipping you over, forcing your face into the sheets.

“I fucking hate you,” he snarls, yanking his belt open, pulling his cock out. “You made me—” He groans, rubbing the tip against your soaked entrance, shuddering. “Made me into a pussy-drunk little bitch—”

Then he slams inside.

The force knocks the breath from your lungs, his cock stretching you wide, still sloppy from his tongue. His hands dig into your hips, dragging you back onto him with every brutal thrust.

And he fucks you like he’s starving.

Like he’ll never stop.

Like you’ve ruined him.

Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles

Test-Phase TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @imnotabot28 , @han11dh

[gojosconsort]

FUCK YOU (ON THAT BIKE) ♡ // SUKUNA

⁀➷ CONTENT. you thought you could bug sukuna while he’s working on his bike and get away with it. big mistake—he’s about to fuck you raw on that leather seat ‘til you’re crying his name.

♡ PAIRING. afab!reader x boyfriend!sukuna

♡ WARNINGS. mdni. choking (a little), spanking, finger-fucking (mouth), degradation, dacryphilia, manhandling, creampie, hair-pulling, spit, tears, sweat, grease (sorry), motorcycle sex, bratty!reader, sukuna being sukuna (sorry, not sorry)

♡ WORD COUNT. 2,400

you’re sprawled out on the shitty old couch in BOYFRIEND!SUKUNA’S garage, legs kicked up over the armrest, scrolling through your phone like it’s the only thing keeping you from dying of boredom. the air smells like motor oil and stale cigarettes, and the faint hum of some trap beat leaks from a busted speaker in the corner.

sukuna’s over by his pride and joy—his matte-black motorcycle—hunched over it with a wrench in his tattooed hand. he’s been at it for hours, tweaking shit you don’t even pretend to understand, and you’re starting to get antsy.

“yo, how long you gonna fuck with that thing?” you call out, not even looking up from your screen. “feels like i’ve been sitting here forever.”

he doesn’t answer right away. just grunts, like you’re a fly buzzing around his head he’s too busy to swat. you roll your eyes, tossing your phone onto the cushion beside you, and sit up. the leather of his jacket you’re wearing—stolen from his stash—creaks as you move. it’s too big for you, swallowing your frame, but you like how it smells like him—smoke, sweat, and his cologne.

“sukunaaa,” you say again, louder this time, dragging out the last syllable like a brat. “c’mon, i’m bored as hell. entertain me or some shit.”

he finally looks up, those sharp red eyes fixed on you. his jaw’s tight, grease smeared across his cheek, and his black tank clings to his chest from the heat and even when he’s annoyed, he’s hot as sin. maybe especially when he’s annoyed.

“you see me working, yeah?” he snaps. “shut your damn mouth ‘fore i give you somethin’ to do with it.”

you smirk, hopping off the couch and sauntering over to him. the concrete’s cold under your bare feet, and your shorts ride up your thighs as you move. you know he’s watching, even if he’s pretending not to. “what, you gonna put me to work? i ain’t touchin’ that greasy-ass bike.”

he snorts, tossing the wrench onto the workbench with a loud clank. “you couldn’t handle it anyway, princess. too busy runnin’ that mouth.”

“maybe ‘cause you’re takin’ too damn long,” you shoot back, leaning against the bike’s seat, arms crossed. you’re close enough now that you can feel the heat rolling off him, see the way his veins pop under his skin as he flexes his hands. “thought you were good with your hands, big guy. guess not.”

that does it. you see the shift in his face—the way his eyes narrow, lips curling into something mean and dangerous. he steps toward you, slow and deliberate, and before you can blink, he’s got you caged against the bike, one hand slamming down on the handlebars beside you. the metal groans under his grip.

“you wanna push me, huh?” he growls, leaning in so close his breath hits your face. it’s hot, smells like menthol and alcohol, and your stomach flips. “keep talkin’ shit, see where it gets you.”

you tilt your head, grinning like an idiot ‘cause you love this—love how easy it is to rile him up. “what you gonna do about it, ‘kuna? spank me?”

his hand’s on you in a second, rough fingers grabbing your jaw, tilting your head back so you’re forced to meet his glare. “you’re fuckin’ annoying, you know that?” he mutters, but there’s this spark in his eyes—and you know you're winning. “can’t even let me finish my shit without actin’ up.”

“maybe i just want your attention,” you say, voice all syrupy and fake-innocent, batting your lashes at him. his grip tightens, and you can feel the calluses on his palm scraping your skin.

“oh, you’re gonna get it,” he says, and then he’s moving, shoving you back against the bike so hard you stumble. the leather seat digs into your ass, and he’s on you before you can catch your breath, one hand fisting in your hair, pulling you closer.

“sukuna—!” you yelp, half-laughing, half-shocked, but he cuts you off with a hard kiss, biting your lip hard. it’s messy, nasty, and you’re already soaked, thighs squeezing tight like that’s gonna hide it, but then he shoves his knee between them.

the denim of his jeans scrapes against your flimsy shorts, and he grinds his leg right up against your pussy, slow and deliberate, pressing in ‘til you can feel the friction burning through the fabric. it feels so good, teasing, and you can’t help the little moan that slips out, muffled against his lips.

“shut the fuck up,” he snarls against your mouth, tugging your head back so your neck’s exposed. his teeth graze your throat, sharp and mean, and you whine, hands scrambling to grab onto his shoulders and nails digging into the hard muscle under his tank while he’s still working his leg against you, grinding that thick thigh right where you’re throbbing. the pressure’s got your hips twitching, chasing it without even meaning to, and you’re damn near panting already. “you wanted this, yeah? fuckin’ beggin’ for it with that smart-ass mouth,” he says.

“didn’t... ngh—didn’t say that,” you gasp, but it’s a lie and he knows it, that bullshit excuse dying on your tongue as his knee presses harder, rubbing up and down, making your head spin.

he smirks like he’s about to ruin you and love every second of it, then he’s spinning you around fast, shoving you down ‘til you’re bent over the bike, chest slammed against the seat. the leather’s warm from the sticky garage heat, clinging to your skin through your thin-ass tank top, and your tits are pressed so hard against it they’re practically spilling out, making your nipples perk up even more against the rough leather.

“bullshit,” he says, kicking your legs apart with his boot, spreading you wide like you’re his to play with. his hand cracks down on your ass, a sharp, stinging smack that makes you yelp, the sound bouncing off the garage walls, and you hear him chuckle—like he’s getting off on it.

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, yanking them down just enough—barely past your ass, fabric bunched tight around your thighs, pussy dripping and on display. “look at you, fuckin’ dripping already,” he mutters, smearing a rough hand over the wet mess between your legs, “needy little slut.”

you whimper, pushing your hips back toward him, ‘cause yeah, you are needy—have been since you walked in here and saw him all sweaty and pissed off. there’s something about sukuna when he’s like this, rough and unfiltered, that makes you stupid for him. “just fuck me already, asshole,” you mutter, glancing over your shoulder at him.

his eyes flash, and then he’s yanking his jeans down. his cock springs free, thick, heavy, veins bulging under the skin, tip already leaking a fat bead of precum that glistens in the dim garage light, and fuck, it’s so long and girthy.

he steps up close, smirking at how you’re bent over, ass up, and grabs your hips with those big, rough hands, fingers digging in ‘til it stings. you’re already a mess—needy as fuck, whimpering soft and pathetic under your breath, little “please, ‘kuna” sounds slipping out ‘cause you can’t help it, you want him bad.

he doesn’t rush it right away—nah, he’s a fucker like that and you hate him for that—shoves his cock between your folds first, sliding that fat length back and forth, teasing you with it. the tip catches on your clit, smearing his precum all over your slick pussy, and he grinds it there, slow and mean, letting you feel every inch of him rubbing up against you ‘til your whimpers get louder, needier, hips twitching desperate for more.

“fuckin’ wet for me,” he mutters, then he pulls back just enough, pushes your soaked panties to the side with a flick of his thumb, and slams into you—bottoming out in one brutal thrust that splits you open, making your whole body lurch forward against the bike.

“fuck—!” you cry out, hands scrabbling against the bike for something to hold onto. the stretch burns, sharp and overwhelming, but it’s so good, the kind of pain that melts into pleasure fast. he doesn’t wait, doesn’t ease up—starts fucking you hard and fast, hips snapping against yours with a force that makes the whole damn motorcycle rock.

“this what you wanted?” he growls, leaning over you, one hand wrapping around your throat. his fingers dig into your skin, not choking yet, just holding you there, keeping you pinned. “huh? fuckin’ take it then.”

“y-yeah,” you moan, voice breaking as he hits that spot inside you that makes your legs shake. the bike’s shaking too, creaking under the weight of his thrusts, and you can hear the wet slap of skin on skin, the filthy sound of him pounding into you. it’s nasty, raw, everything you love about him.

he tightens his grip on your throat, just enough to make your head spin, and you’re gone—clawing at the seat, gasping his name like a prayer. “sukuna... fuck, ‘kuna, don’t stop—”

“fuckin’ loud,” he says, but you can tell he loves it, loves how your so messy for him. his other hand slides down, smacking your ass again—once, twice, ‘til it stings—then grabs a fistful of your ass, pulling you back onto him harder. “gonna make you scream, brat.”

and he does. he fucks you like he’s trying to break you, each thrust deeper, rougher, hitting that sweet spot over and over ‘til your vision blurs. your thighs are slick, dripping down onto the bike, and he laughs when he notices. “messy fuckin’ slut,” he says, reaching down between your legs and smearing something onto his fingers before shoving them into your mouth. “taste yourself.”

you groan around his fingers, sucking on them like he wants, lips stretched tight as he shoves two thick digits into your mouth, pumping them in and out like he’s fucking your face with them. they’re rough, calloused, tasting like salt and grease, and he’s not gentle—thrusting deep ‘til they hit the back of your throat, making you gag.

your tongue flattens against them, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, and you can barely keep up, slurping messy and loud. he’s watching you, eyes dark and hooded, loving how you choke on it just for him. “fuckin’ nasty,” he mutters, voice hoarse, and he pushes them deeper, curling them against your tongue ‘til you’re whining around the intrusion.

you suck harder, hollowing your cheeks, and he curses under his breath, hips stuttering against you, cock still buried deep inside. “shit, you’re tight—gonna... ughh... fuck—” he cuts himself off with a growl, yanking his fingers free with a wet pop, a string of spit trailing from your lips to his hand before he he pulls out of you just long enough to flip you onto your back. the bike wobbles, but he steadies it with one hand, throwing your legs over his shoulders.

“look at me,” he says, slamming back into you, and you do—eyes locked on his as he fucks you senseless. his face is flushed, sweat dripping down his jaw, and he looks like a goddamn animal. got your legs hooked over his shoulders, one hand gripping your thigh so tight you’re gonna have bruises shaped like his fingers tomorrow, the other braced on the bike to keep it from tipping over while hips bullies his cock into, the wet slap-slap-slap of skin on skin echoing in the garage louder than the trap beat still buzzing in the background.

his cock’s thick, stretching you open every time he buries it to the hilt, dragging against your walls in a way that’s almost too much, the head hitting that spot inside you over and over ‘til your toes curl and your vision starts to white out. his muscles flex under his tattooed skin with every roll of his hips, like he’s claiming you, breaking you apart just ‘cause he can. “gonna cum for me?”

“y-yeah,” you whimper, nails digging into his arms. “please, ‘kuna—”

he grins and then his thumb’s on your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles that make your whole body lock up. it’s too much, too fast, and it sends you crashing over the edge hard. you scream, just like he promised, voice tearing outta your throat raw and desperate, back arching off the bike so far you nearly slip.

your orgasm rips through you—messy as fuck, intense, a hot flood that leaves you trembling, thighs soaked, and tears spilling down your cheeks ‘cause it’s overwhelming as shit. your chest heaves, little sobs breaking free between gasps, and he doesn’t stop—keeps fucking you through it, cock slamming into you relentless, dragging out every shudder and twitch, crying his name in wet, broken hiccups. “s-sukuna... fuck—‘kuna—”

“fuckin’ good girl,” he mutters and then he’s coming too, burying himself balls-deep with a guttural groan that rumbles through his chest. you feel it—hot, thick spurts filling you up, spilling out around him ‘cause there’s nowhere else for it to go—and he doesn’t pull out right away, just stays there, hips pressed flush to yours, panting heavy and ragged.

he leans down, your tears are still streaming, salty and warm, but hen his tongue flicks out licking a fat stripe up your cheek, tasting the wet mess of your cries. “fuckin’ crybaby,” he murmurs, but he loves it and you whimper, half-embarrassed, half-gone from how fucked-out you are, his breath hot against your skin as he stays buried inside you, his cum dripping down steadily between you legs.

when he finally lets go, you’re a wreck—sprawled out on the bike, legs trembling, his cum leaking out of you onto the leather and he smirks. “marked my shit up,” he says, nodding at the bike. “guess you’re good for somethin’.”

you laugh, weak and breathless, barely managing to lift your hand to flip him off, fingers shaky. “fuck you.”

“fuckin’ act up again, huh?” he shoots back, zipping up his jeans with a lazy tug. he steps away, leaving you there sprawled like a used rag, and grabs the wrench off the workbench like nothing happened, crouching back down by the bike to mess with it again while his cum’s still dripping out of you onto the floor next to him, and he doesn’t even glance at it—just keeps working.

you pull yourself together, sorta, hair a sweaty mess sticking to your face and flop back onto the couch, limbs heavy like they’re made of lead. “still bored,” you say, just to fuck with him.

he glares over his shoulder. “keep it up, and round two’s gonna be worse.”

you grin. “promise?”

————— ୨୧ —————

⁀➷ masterlist

[dollbrbie]

♡ ⸝⸝ PSYCHO EX BF

featuring. ryomen sukuna | smut mdni

your ex sukuna is a fucking psycho.

he’s constantly blowing up your phone, checking your location and angrily calling you when he’s seen that you’ve turned it off, sometimes even turning up to your place of work.

it’s definitely not normal and all your friends have brought their worries to you about it, scared something might happen to you one day.

and you know he’s insanely toxic and that you should be listening to them, probably issuing a restraining order.

but for some reason, you can’t help but revel in it. something about the way he crashes out when he can’t see where you are, the way he will come to your door to ask why you aren’t answering him. the feeling of the adrenaline and excitement compares to nothing else.

well, maybe except when sukuna has you face down ass up, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck to hold you down as he pounds into you with no mercy and bottoming out inside of you with each thrust.

and sukuna is huge, your poor abused pussy being completely stretched out by his monster cock, the pain mixed with pleasure causing loud moans and whimpers to leave you lips and only egging your ex on even more.

“yeah? y’like being treated like this? i knew you liked the attention i gave ya, stop acting like you don’t miss me.”

it’s true. you always pretend like you don’t miss him, blocking his number when you feel like it or hanging up on him mid convo because he said something that annoyed you.

or even when you ignore him in public, the lazy smirk that was once plastered on his face turning into a scowl. god, it pissed him off so much when you did that.

but sukuna always had this way to take it out on you, his large calloused hands wrapped in your hair, pulling your face up from the pillow he previously had it stuffed in to watch the pathetic tears stream down your face from how overwhelming his cock felt, your pussy constantly clenching around him.

and you love it.

and you love how after he forces countless orgasms out of you, cleaning you up afterwards whilst attempting to talk things out with you, you’ll shrug him off telling him this was a one time thing and to not get used to it.

but you both know it’ll never be just that. because, sukuna just can’t stay away from you and you just love to fuck around and find out, especially when it ends with some good dick from your hot, crazy ex.

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[rosy-hollow]

｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ╰┈➤ @lillycore ⦂ OH OH, since you’re requests are open, can I request high school au with sukuna (established relationship) where he asks reader out to prom and what they’d do there? 》 ✐ᝰ UHM YES?? I LOVE YOU THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE HEHEH

｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ

If you ranked Sukuna Ryomen on a list of the classiest men alive, he’d be dead last.

You knew that when you started dating him. Hell, you’d been together for two years now, so if his lack of finesse bothered you, you wouldn’t have stuck around this long.

Which is why you weren’t even surprised when, in the middle of some random conversation, he just told you that you’d be going to senior prom together—like it was already a given. No asking, no buildup, just a casual declaration.

Because in his mind?

It was a given.

It was just a stupid dance, anyway. No need to make a big deal out of it.

Right?

God, he was so wrong.

Now, standing outside your door, waiting to pick you up, Sukuna feels something entirely foreign settle in his chest.

Nerves.

It’s almost pathetic, how anxious he is. Not even during high-pressure games does his heart race like this. At least then, he’s in his element.

This? This is uncharted territory.

Loving someone—hell, even dating someone—always seemed like something that happened in theory. Something that happened to other people.

But he didn’t just love someone.

He was in love with you.

So utterly and completely in love that the very idea of being without you makes him feel like a dead man walking.

You, with your pretty face and knowing smiles. The way your laugh makes his heart do annoying things. Your witty comebacks, your sharp tongue.

You make him feel alive.

And ironically, the second the door swings open—his heart stops.

You are breathtaking.

To be fair, you always are, but—god.

"Holy shit."

He doesn’t even realize he’s said it aloud until you giggle, stepping forward and shutting the door behind you.

Sukuna suddenly feels very grateful you insisted on matching outfits, because with the way you look right now—he’d be damned if you looked like anything but his.

Just the thought makes his feel strange - a good strange - inside.

You’re his.

And he’s yours.

“I… wow,” he mutters gruffly.

You hum, stepping closer, tilting your head in amusement. Teasing him.

“Is that a good ‘wow’ or a bad ‘wow,’ ‘Kuna?”

A large, warm palm finds the small of your back, pulling you in, his lips brushing over yours.

“Definitely good,” he murmurs, before pressing his lips against yours—the first of many tonight.

Some might call you a miracle worker for convincing Sukuna to actually drive to the venue. Because if he had it his way? You’d be heading straight back to his place, where he could have you all to himself.

It’s cute, honestly. The way he grips the steering wheel like it’s the only thing stopping him from devouring you whole. Like if he so much as looks at you for too long, he’ll lose whatever shred of self-control he has left.

You, on the other hand, have no such limitations, happily being the passenger royalty you are.

So you drink him in—the way the streetlights cast shadows across his sharp features, how insanely handsome he looks in his suit.

You were just as whipped as he was.

Just... better at hiding it.

When you arrive, the entrance is already packed with familiar faces, student IDs in hand, waiting to be let in.

Sukuna steps out first, then, to your delight, makes his way around the car to open your door for you.

You giggle at his rare act of chivalry, taking his outstretched hand.

Inside, the venue is stunning—twinkling lights, lavish décor. You definitely have to congratulate your friend on the prom committee for a job well done.

Sukuna, however, could not give less of a shit.

Because while you’re admiring the decorations, he’s admiring you.

The soft, awed expression on your face is worth more than any stupid floral arrangement.

When you glance back at him, his eyes are warm—softer than they ever are in public.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him again, and he happily obliges, though it takes everything in him not to pull you flush against him and forget the whole damn dance.

When you pull away though, there’s a mischievous glint in your eye.

Oh no.

“‘Kuna~?” you draw out, sing-song.

He groans. He’s screwed.

“Will you dance with me?”

Sukuna just stares at you blankly.

“Fuck no.”

“Pleeeeease?”

Oh, fuck you and your stupid puppy eyes and your perfect face and your perfect everything—he can’t say no to you.

And that’s how he finds himself standing in the middle of the dance floor, awkwardly shuffling while you happily bop along to the music, grinning like this is the best night of your life.

It goes on like this for a while—your poor, hulking boyfriend completely out of his element, staying only because he loves you.

Then—suddenly—the music shifts.

The bass-heavy beats fade, replaced with something slower, softer.

Sukuna’s eyes widen slightly as yours light up.

You step toward him, all soft smiles and adoration.

You bow teasingly. “May I have this dance?”

Sukuna clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes. But there’s no real bite. “Ain’t I the one who’s supposed'ta ask ya that?”

You hum as he tugs you closer, his arms encircling your waist, your own draping around his neck. “Maybe… but I like to keep you on your toes.”

He lets out a rare, genuine laugh before kissing you again—deep, slow, tender.

He rests his forehead against yours, voice lower now, softer.

“That you do.”

Your eyes shine, drinking in the way he looks at you.

“And unfortunately for you,” you tease gently, “I always will.”

Sukuna snorts.

“You’re a little shit.”

But you both know he doesn’t mean it.

A/N: AHHHHHHHHHH (that's it, that's all I have to say)

[fatpigsumdim]

[myrleius]

velvet noose — sukuna

sukuna x former enemy fem!reader│word count: 1.4k

synopsis: Sukuna told you those sorcerers were using you. You didn’t listen until it was too late. And when you had no one else, you called his name.

notes: I’ve been consuming too much psychological manga and got inspired. I wanted to explore a character’s slow descent into madness, justifying her actions even when they’re morally wrong. This isn’t canon compliant since I’m not caught up with the manga or anime. Also, this is a huge departure from the usual fluff, leaning more into dark romance. Hope you like it!

cw/tags: dark romance, former enemies, angst, violence, established relationship, their relationship is kinda toxic if you squint but that’s Sukuna for you

The sorcerers’ citadel was gone.

Flames curled into the sky, clawing at the stars, devouring everything in their wake. Smoke clogged the air, thick and suffocating, pressing against your lungs. The heat licked your skin, ash clinging to you like a second layer. Screams still echoed in the distance, though they were growing fewer by the second.

You stood at the center of it all, the truth still echoing in your mind. 

They had planned to erase you.

Not kill, not exile.

Erase.

To strip you down to nothing. To hollow your mind, your will, your soul, until only their perfect creation remained.

You curled your fingers, stiff with dried blood that wasn’t yours.

The elders had raised you. Shaped you, gave you immortality and power. Told you you were humanity’s savior, a divine force meant to protect the good and destroy the evil. And yet, when you had started thinking for yourself, they decided you had to go.

And the sorcerers—your comrades, allies—who claimed to fight for justice had known all along.

You should have seen it. The signs had been there, whispering at the edges of your mind for years. The way they never let you question orders. The way they spoke of you as if you were something godly, untouchable—an object. The way they get angry when you falter, when your humanity slipped through the cracks. The way they spoke of Sukuna’s carnage with horror, yet smiled at the thought of your own destruction.

And Sukuna had told you a million times that they were only using you.

Yet still, you had trusted them, even defended them.

God, you had been so blind.

You’ve been angry before but this… was something else.

Your thoughts were cut off when one of the elders stumbled towards you. Eyes wide with terror, robes burnt and tattered, voice raw from screaming.

Pathetic.

His arms reached out, trembling, desperate—but just as his fingers nearly brushed against you, he froze. A sickening squelch split the air.

Blood sprayed across your face, warm and sticky. You flinched, eyes shutting instinctively. When you opened them again, his body was already falling apart, neatly cleaved in two. His insides spilled onto the ground, unveiling the one who had carved him open like a piece of fruit.

Sukuna.

Your beloved stood there amidst the carnage, red eyes finding yours with a softness that contradicted the brutality around him. A smirk curled at his lips.

“Whoops,” he drawled, voice smooth, almost teasing. “Sorry about that, love. Let me just—”

He nudged the corpse aside with the ease of someone flicking away a speck of dust, stepping forward until he was right in front of you. His fingers reached for your face, thumbs swiping the blood from your eyelids before he brought them to his mouth, licking them off without care.

His eyes roamed over you, head tilting slightly before he murmured, "You look good in red."

But you didn’t respond. Didn’t move. Just stood there, staring at nothing. Mind blank. Heart sunken.

Sukuna clicked his tongue, feigning annoyance, but instead of stepping away, he moved to your side—not forcing closeness, but ensuring his presence remained.

A beat of silence passed before he spoke again.

"Regretting it already?"

“No.”

The word left your lips before you even processed it. It was quick, firm, without hesitation. Yet, it felt foreign. 

Not because it wasn’t true. But because it was.

You should’ve felt something. Guilt. Horror. At least a sliver of unease. But as you stared at the blood staining your dress, the bodies littering the ground, you felt… nothing.

No, that wasn’t right.

You felt lighter.

And that realization sent a chill down your spine.

Because you remembered how you used to look at Sukuna with disgust for this very thing. For the ease with which he slaughtered, the way his hands carved through flesh like it was second nature, the utter indifference in his crimson eyes as life after life fell before him.

You remembered asking him how he does it so easily, but he only smirked, amused by your naïve desperation to make him care. 

“Because the weak were never meant to survive,” he had said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

You had hated that answer.

Hated the way he spoke of life like it was something disposable. Hated how he could stand atop piles of corpses without a single shadow of doubt, how he never flinched, never hesitated, never felt.

But now… standing here, you finally understood what he had meant.

It wasn’t just about strength. It wasn’t about who could fight, who could kill, who could stand at the top while others were crushed beneath them.

No, it was about something far crueler.

It was about control.

The elde—no, those mortals called you their goddess. Their hope. But the moment you stopped being obedient, they turned on you without hesitation, never seeing you as human. 

You were not one of them and you never had been.

You were a puppet for them to control.

And those who couldn’t be controlled? They were discarded.

Not because they lacked strength, but because they lacked the freedom to choose.

And if you had never met Sukuna—if you had never questioned, never seen—you would have died believing you were fighting for something real. 

You would have died for them.

For people who had never truly wanted you to live.

And the fact that you’re accepting this terrified you.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to look at him. He was watching you carefully, that familiar, knowing smirk playing at his lips. 

As if he had been waiting for this moment.

The moment you would finally see.

A shuddering breath slipped past your lips. When did it happen? When had the battles stopped being about winning against him and started being about understanding him? When had your hatred—fierce, unshakable—slowly unraveled into something far more dangerous?

Sukuna had always known what you refused to admit. You weren’t some shining hero the elders blinded you into believing. You were an experiment.

He was the only one who had ever looked at you, the only one who had ever spoken to you like you were real.

In the end, it wasn’t his words that had made you fall.

It was the way he listened when no one else did. The way he challenged you, pushed you, made you question everything you thought you knew.

It was the way that, despite his cruelty, despite the blood in his hands, he never caged you.

He never forced you. He just waited.

And when the world you thought you were protecting finally turned against you—when those mortals revealed what you truly were, what they had always intended for you to become—

He was the only one left standing beside you.

The irony of it settled deep, heavier than the fire-choked air.

They had told you Sukuna was the epitome of destruction. That he was a monster incapable of love, incapable of anything but carnage.

But when you whispered his name earlier into the darkness, choking on the truth of your own existence, he had come.

He hadn’t gloated. Hadn’t mocked you.

He had simply pulled you into his chest, running his clawed hand oh-so gently through your hair, smiling, slow and satisfied.

“Want me to ‘take care’ of it, love?”

He had offered salvation. Given you the choice.

And you had taken it.

Now, standing in the wreckage of that choice, you felt untethered.

Sukuna stepped closer, fingers brushing against your cheek, sharp yet familiar, sending a slow hum through your veins.

“You wanted this,” he murmured, his hand tilting your chin, forcing you to look back at the massacre you had started. “So don’t look away.”

Your breath hitched. 

You had wanted this, needed it.

“I know,” you said, and you didn’t look away.

Sukuna hummed in approval, stepping behind you, his palm dragging up your back. 

“Then don’t mourn them.”

And you didn’t.

Because there was nothing left to mourn.

The people who had claimed to love you had tried to erase you.

And the man who had been deemed a monster had saved you.

Your lips parted. "I won’t."

You didn’t need to turn around to know a grin had spread across his face—wide and victorious. 

“Good.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before resting his cheek there, arms wrapping around you, grip unyielding.

Curling around you like a cage.

But for the first time—

It didn’t feel like a prison.

It felt like freedom.

[moonlightazriel]

Main Masterlist

His mouth tasted like cigarettes and the cheap liquor they were serving at this stupid party. Two years ago, he would be in the middle of the crowd, instead of recoiling outside on the balcony, watching the busy streets. People would be screaming his name as he dumped his tenth beer of the night. 

Sukuna, the king! He felt pathetic now, as the party went on without him, some stupid loser with white hair and blue eyes had taken his place now, he could hear them screaming his name, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore, cuz two years ago, he would climb off that damned table, walking straight to you, a playful smile gracing your beautiful features as he pulled you closer by the waist, he's much bigger than you, his frame towering over yours easily. He would capture your lips in a wild kiss, not caring about the lipstick stains on his mouth after. A proud claim on him, your marks on him. It was his favorite part. 

But now, there was nothing left for him. Not a messy kiss, not your sweet taste that always remained, no matter how much you drank, you never tasted like poor beer like he did, you always had this fresh mint taste to your lips. And he loved that. Sukuna loved so many things about you, the way your hair was always flawless, even when you just got out of the bed. He always loved how your smell clung to his clothes, like a comforting cloud, reminding him that you were always there with him. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, just to see the candid photo he had taken of you, the only one he ever took. He was an idiot, you were so beautiful, he should've taken so much more photos of you, to capture your happiness and keep you frozen in a moment no one could hurt you, not even him. But that one was all that was left for him, you with his shirt and a shitty attempt of recreating his tattoos, you looked so silly, with a frown on your face and your arms crossed over your chest. 

"I want to be like you, Kuna." You had said, while you giggled, scrunching your eyebrows together to try and look as intimidating as him, but only managing to look adorable to his eyes. 

"You wish. Now take that off and let's go to bed." He had coldly replied, if he could just go back in time and tell you how that meant to him, that you saw more in him than people ever credited him for. 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he finished his cigarette. He wished he knew where you went, he wished he could go to you and tell you everything he hadn't said when you were together. How he cherished the meals you forced him to eat, to be healthier you would claim. How you always hugged him, somehow knowing he needed you, placing a hand on his heart until he calmed down. 

He should've kissed you more, hugged you more, loved you the way you deserved to be loved, now you were god knows where, maybe with someone else already, when he couldn't move on from you, refused to do so. Letting you go meant letting a part of him, the one you saw worth loving go too. And then nothing good about him would be left, and he would be alone with the ugly and unlovable parts of him, the parts that you never cared about until he used it to push you away. 

He still remembered freshly the last time you two spoke, you were quieter, sadder and your eyes didn't spark upon his arrival like they used to. You had asked for more effort on his part, it was true that he grew lazy, not taking you out anymore, just caring about his friends and things that didn't matter. But it was just a phase right?

 You were tired of fighting for a relationship he didn't seem to want anymore, a relationship that felt like an obligation to him. But you still believed in him, giving him one more chance. But he was Sukuna, and all that he knew was how to fuck up, and that's what he did. He still remembered how his heart cracked loudly in his chest when you closed the door, your things in your car and said to him that despite loving him a lot, you couldn't do this anymore. 

He regretted letting you go, not fighting for you, but he never even deserved you and your kind soul. It was just a matter of time until you figured it anyway, so maybe it was for the best. But his heart still did somersaults in his chest, beating crazily against his ribcage as he took a deep breath of air, your characteristic scent filling his nose. 

He turned around, to spot you behind him, a surprised look on your face as well, you looked better than you did the last time he saw you, he knew he was the complete opposite, being miserable since you left. 

"Oh hi Kuna." You said to him, just like you always did, the nickname he never allowed anyone else to say slipping so easily off your tongue. "It's been a while."

"It's been too long." He heard himself say and you blinked at him, not knowing what to say. "How are you?" He always hated small talk.

"I'm good, I got a new promotion and they offered me a position here so I'm back." He had heard that you asked your company to place you somewhere else away from him, but having you back. He itched to touch you.

"You always deserved that spot." You smiled, making his heart skip a few beats.

"How are you doing, Sukuna? Really?" Concern filled your voice and he wanted to kick himself for it, this shouldn't be like this, you should be in his arms. 

"I'm ok." He simply answered. You nodded, disappointed. Idiot! Idiot! Idiot! Why couldn't he just say that he missed you? That he was willing to do anything to have you back? Before he could speak again, the door slides open and one of your friends calls you inside, and you turn to leave.

He can't let you walk away from him, not a second time, not ever again. So he held your wrist, preventing you from walking any further. You turn to him, big eyes full of confusion and his heart breaks once again for you. 

"I'm miserable since you left, I should've fought for you, never let you go. I'm going crazy without you, I know I wasn't the best boyfriend for you but there's not anyone else for me, just you, I need you. I love you very much and I'm sorry I messed up." You took a deep breath, like that was all you ever wanted to hear from him. But unfortunately it came all too late. 

"Kuna I..." You started unsurely. The door sliding again, this time, the white hair of Gojo Satoru popping outside, eyeing him up and down. 

"Let's go darling, let's celebrate you." His annoying voice sounded and Sukuna scoffed, you looked at him one last time. 

"Be well." You said quietly, before going to accept the open hand of that bastard. Sukuna stood there looking at the door long after you went inside, feeling you slipping through his finger once again. Maybe it was for the best, he just hoped you would be happy. With or without him.

[zaddywiththephatty]

Ryomen Sukuna Fic Recommendations

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56913520 (beneath the silk by @phyx-m)

Credits: Dividers by @cafekitsune

Image from pintrest.

All works listed above are NOT my own, I just wanted to share my favourite fanfics in hopes that more people read them.

[fangdokja]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 ~ 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚

Mornings always start like this.

You wake up to the feeling of something heavy, something suffocating. His arm slung over your waist, his chest pressed into your back, his breath against your neck—hot and lazy, even in sleep.

You shift, barely, and his grip tightens.

"You move, I break your fuckin’ legs," Sukuna grumbles against your ear.

You freeze.

His lips curl against your skin, and you feel the smirk before he even chuckles. You hate how easily he reads you, how easily he enjoys this—you, trapped under him, knowing damn well there's no escape.

“Get off,” you mutter, voice hoarse.

“Say please.”

You stay silent.

Sukuna laughs, rolling onto his back—but before you can even think about slipping out of bed, his hand grips your wrist, yanking you on top of him. You land hard against his chest, and you can feel him.

Hard.

Needy.

But he’d never admit it.

“You gonna be good today?” His fingers dig into your waist, idly rubbing circles into your hip. “Or you gonna piss me off?”

You glare at him. His smirk deepens.

He wants you to fight. He likes it when you fight.

“Fuck you,” you snap.

His grin turns sharp. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

Before you can shove him away, he flips you onto your back, pinning you beneath him, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of your thighs. His cock grinds against your stomach, thick and heavy through his boxers.

And he’s already pulling your shorts down.

You thrash, but it’s useless. He’s stronger. He’s always stronger.

“Sukuna—”

"Shut up," he growls, shoving your panties aside, lining himself up.

And then—he's inside.

No prep. No warning. Just him, slamming into you, stretching you open in a way that makes you bite your lip hard enough to bleed.

Your hands shove at his chest, desperate, but he catches your wrists, pinning them above your head.

"Don't start whining now," he sneers, rolling his hips, slow and deep, making you feel every inch of him. "Should've been a good girl."

Your body clenches involuntarily, and he groans, head dropping to the crook of your neck.

"Fuck, baby—" He bites down, sharp, making you jolt. "You’re so fuckin’ tight in the morning."

You hate him.

You hate how much he enjoys this, how much he needs this, how much he refuses to admit it—always acting like you're the desperate one, like you're the one who keeps coming back to him.

But you never had a choice.

And you never will.

His thrusts pick up, brutal and relentless, forcing ragged gasps from your throat. His grip on your wrists tightens, his teeth scrape against your skin, and when he feels you getting close—when your body betrays you—

He laughs.

Because you’re his.

And there’s nothing you can do about it.

Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles

[pashilushy]

(i’m new to tumblr how do i even work shits out 😭)

sukuna, which became fond of watching you dance yourself a little while blasting music with your wired earphones (i love wired so what) in the library

frustratingly, sukuna found himself approaching the library to find some... peace. low scores, humiliation, and blabbering mouths of his professors mixed through the half of his day and he does not like it one bit. if only he can, he will immediately go home and slam his door shut and sleep all his shit away.

he abruptly sat on an empty, long table, unpacking his bag aggressively to release his pending assignments and finish up all the thoughts of his left works that aches his head so bad.

“bloody hell..” he muttered, voice tinged with an annoyance of the thought of losing his concentration and mood to study (he always was).

but then, tiny whispers lingered in the air that distracted him momentarily. he is already on the verge of exploding and someone’s—

vibing with music..?

he looked up, eyes sharp that it could cut the air. there you are, dancing with your hands, wearing a smile, in beat with your ridiculous music blasting through your earphones.

observing you with keen eyes, he noted your wired earphones. “is she outdated or what” he thinks to himself. as the filthy rich guy he is, he is spoiled with branded stuff, modern and latest models. “cheap woman.” he tsked, ignoring you the next seconds, thinking you’ll just past like the girls he flirted and hooked up with.

but days passed, and you’re still in the same seat, doing whatever you’re something up to, all while listening with your ‘crappy’ wired earphones. he didn’t mind it at first, yet he noticed something.

you aren’t outdated.. you just like your earphones wired.

after 2 weeks of seeing you in the library every free time of his, he took note of how your eyes flicked up to other college students, seeing their advanced technology things and blahblahblah. everyone around you are using wireless earphones, headphones, and even rechargeable earbuds.

but you and your wired earphones are unbreakable, firm even. you never flinched, you stayed with what makes you comfortable without giving a shit with what others will say.

you just like being and doing what you love..

and that.. well, made a somewhat pleasing expression on sukuna. you know what you love. and you embrace it.. you dance happily with it..

from that day on, he found himself visiting the library to see you, and just see you. he would mindlessly write on his notebooks, but his focus is on you. the way you smile when your favorite part of the song comes up, the way you make little dances with that stupid grin when the part of the song distracts you so good.. all made sukuna want to watch you even more, observe you a little more. and he hates it. especially hate it when your smile makes his heart race from gently to thumping very loudly..

a month passed and he’s.. well, grown a little (not so little) crush with you.

then, one day, he found you not wearing your usual white wired earphones on. while approaching his usual seat, he spotted the earphones on the side of your piled notebooks and laptop. it’s broken.

yet he felt like his heart was broken 10x harder at the thought of not seeing your smile and little dances again..

you’re wearing an unusual frown on your face, your shoulders tense, your hand writing like a flash — all contrast to the brightness of your smile, the warmth your little dances bring, and the gentleness of your hand’s pace with your wired earphones on.

eyeing the wire of it, it seems like it got stretched. considering the disadvantages of wired earphones, this is not unexpected.

but the thought of losing his favorite sight of your smile, your little dances.. his heart almost sank.

with a spiralling mind, he slowly approached your seat, gently tapping on the space of the table beside you.

“is this seat taken?” asking like he hasn’t seen you all alone the whole month. you looked up with a small smile, shaking your head. “nope”.

he almost whispered an ‘i know’ under his breath, fortunately stopping himself on time. as he sat down, he placed his books on top of the table. gazing down at your notes, he did expect you to have a good handwriting, observing from the gentleness of your hand and your warmth. but of the heavens gifted you a goddess-like handwriting. he almost itched to ask if an angel taught you this penmanship. adding the first time he heard your voice.. it’s a simple “nope” but god.. are you an angel yourself?

but actually, actually the ryomen sukuna, considering his bad boy background, he offered..

“here.” he muttered, hand stretched out to you, an earbud on his palm.

“uh.. what for?” you ask confusingly, tilting your head a bit (which adds to your heavenly cuteness and hella throbs of sukuna’s heart to his ribs he fears it might jump out to you)

he smiled. no.. but you swear he smiled! he did..! a subtle one..

“for you to use. is that hard to understand?” he shook his head after a soft scoff, placing the one earbud to one of your opened book. why only one? he wore the other one.

he wore the other one which means you’re.. sharing.

before you could completely adjust the earbud on your ear, he spoke, eyes on his own seconds away on. “and here’s my spotify,” he scoots his phone closer to you. “choose what song you like.” and you thank the heavens that his eyes are on somewhere because you’re blushing red..

in the middle of processing on whatever he’s doing to you, he shifted before looking back up to you. “and it’s on premium.” of course, he’s rich. but he’d rather die than admit the way he took his time spending his money on just a mere app for back-up, emergency (in case your wired earphones quit). he even demanded the app management to grant him premium for 50 years and he’s ready to pay millions for it, for your happiness.

you’re stunned. he chuckled. you nodded. he hummed.

“t-thanks..” you started clicking on the phone, searching up whatever song your spiral mind and heart on an 8.7 earthquake could remember.

throughout the silent study together (study date in sukuna’s head ofc), your eyes occasionally flicked up to his figure beside you.

and you realized,

the thought of having his subtle smiles, his little chuckles will be your favorite sight.. your heart thumped.

and maybe.. you’ll start to love your earphones being wireless as well.

[dee-writes-anime]

Chapter 8: A Reign of Terror

FEATURING Ryomen Sukuna x Witch!Reader

SUMMARY As you and Sukuna solidify your reign as the King and Queen of Curses, your fiery relationship deepens amidst power struggles and lingering doubts. However, the celebration is short-lived as an ominous storm heralds the arrival of a new, ancient threat. The chapter ends with a foreboding confrontation in the throne room, setting the stage for a battle that could shake Sukuna’s reign to its core.

CONTENT WARNINGS Graphic depictions of sexual activity, aka SMUT, including dominance and power dynamics, references to past carnage, heavy tension, and implied violence in the looming confrontation, intense language and descriptions, themes of dominance, submission, and manipulation within a romantic and political context.

PLAYLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

I stood on the ridge, looking down at the village like a queen surveying the remains of a fallen kingdom. Below, the devastation sprawled in every direction—smoke, fire, and blood painting the landscape. The jagged remains of homes stuck out from the earth like broken ribs, their charred wood crackling as the flames fought to stay alive. The air was thick with the stench of ruin—burnt wood, blood, and decay, each breath a reminder of the destruction.

The sky mirrored the chaos below. Dark clouds swirled violently, crackling with crimson lightning, thunder rolling through the cries of the dying and the desperate pleas of those who knelt before me and Sukuna. It felt like the storm itself was alive, an extension of the malice we radiated. It was an ominous warning of what was still to come.

Sukuna stood beside me, his towering form a dark silhouette against the storm’s fury. His crimson robes fluttered in the wind, gold sigils glinting in the flickering light from below. His eyes scanned the destruction—two half-lidded in boredom, while the others gleamed with a sharp, lethal focus. His cursed energy rippled outward like a predator testing the air, electric and suffocating.

“Do you see it, little queen?” he murmured, his voice deep and carrying a dark amusement that sent a shiver down my spine. “This is the price of defiance.”

I followed his gaze, my eyes sweeping over the carnage. The survivors, battered and bloodied, knelt in the dirt. Some clutched their wounds, others stared blankly, too stunned to comprehend the destruction around them.

In the distance, the rebel leader’s stronghold stood like a twisted monument to defiance, its crumbling walls still blackened by Sukuna’s wrath. Cursed spirits prowled the ruins, grotesque shapes illuminated by flashes of lightning. One massive spirit dragged a mangled body across the dirt, leaving a trail of blood behind. Another, smaller but equally terrifying, gnawed on a severed arm atop a pile of rubble.

Closer to the ridge, a line of survivors knelt, their bodies trembling. Blood and soot stained their clothing. A child whimpered softly, pressed close to his mother, her eyes wide with terror. That sound—so small and fragile—cut through the silence, a reminder that even in the face of such overwhelming power, life still clung desperately to existence.

Sukuna’s gaze lingered on them, his grin widening into something cruel. He stepped forward, his cursed energy surging faintly as he descended the ridge. The ground trembled beneath his every step, deliberate and slow. I followed, the pulse of the choker steadying my steps as I matched his pace. The hem of my crimson gown, embroidered with jagged gold, whispered against the broken stones beneath us.

At the foot of the ridge, the survivors recoiled, pressing their bodies closer to the ground as if it might shield them from the weight of our presence. Sukuna stopped a few paces from them, his crimson eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction.

“You dared to defy me,” his voice cut through the air like a blade. “You thought you could stand against the King of Curses.”

One of the villagers, a man with a bloodied face and trembling hands, lifted his head just enough to meet my gaze. His eyes flickered between me and Sukuna, his voice barely more than a rasp. “Please,” he croaked, desperation cracking his tone. “We— We were only trying to protect our own. We—”

Sukuna didn’t let him finish. With a single flick of his hand, the man’s body convulsed violently, his mouth opening in a silent scream. His cursed energy collapsed under the weight of Sukuna’s will, and the air crackled with a suffocating tension. The others screamed in terror, their cries rising in a frenzied chorus that rang through the desolation.

Sukuna’s gaze shifted to me then, the cruel grin never leaving his face. He gestured toward the survivors, his voice dripping with mockery. “Your decision, little queen,” he purred. “What shall we do with them?”

The weight of his words pressed down on me, heavy and unrelenting. My heart raced, the choker around my throat pulsing in time with the frantic beat. I held his gaze, feeling the sharp intensity of his crimson eyes daring me to falter. But I didn’t. I stepped forward, the pulse of my cursed energy flaring around me in deliberate waves, sending a shiver through the air.

The survivors recoiled as I drew closer, their cries growing louder, more desperate. I looked down at them, their faces twisted with fear, their bodies trembling. For a moment, I hesitated—not out of mercy, but calculation. They had already lost everything. Was there anything left to take?

I turned back to Sukuna, his amusement barely concealed in the curve of his lips. His expression was unreadable, but I could feel the weight of his expectations. “Let one live,” I said, my voice steady, unwavering. “Let them carry the tale of what happens to those who defy us.”

Sukuna’s laughter rumbled low and dark, vibrating through the wreckage. He stepped closer, his hand brushing my shoulder as he leaned in. “Clever,” he murmured, a mixture of approval and something darker lurking beneath the surface. “Let them choke on their fear.”

With a flick of his wrist, the cursed spirits moved, their grotesque forms descending on the villagers with brutal efficiency. The screams that followed were short, sharp, and drowned out by the storm’s fury, fading into nothing as the spirits tore through flesh and bone with savage precision. Only one figure remained, untouched—a young man, his wide, terrified eyes locked on mine as if I were the nightmare that had come to life.

“Go,” I commanded, my voice cutting through the air. “Run. Tell them what you’ve seen here.”

The man hesitated, his body trembling as if the weight of my words were too much to bear. Then, he scrambled to his feet, his movements uneven as he fled into the darkness. His form vanished into the storm, swallowed whole by the chaos, leaving nothing but silence in his wake.

Sukuna turned to me then, his grin widening as he tilted his head slightly. “You’re learning,” he said, amusement lacing his tone. “Perhaps you’ll make a queen yet.”

“I already am,” I replied, a smirk curling my lips as I met his gaze.

The storm roared its approval above us, crimson lightning casting jagged shadows over the desolation below. This was my reign now—born of blood and fire. No one would question my power. Not anymore.

The estate buzzed with movement when I returned, its grand halls full of servants and courtiers scrambling to meet the demands of their new king and queen. The air was thick with tension—a constant reminder of the brutal order we’d imposed on the land. Whispers slithered through the corridors, curling into the ears of anyone bold enough to listen. Beneath the polished surface of loyalty, doubt and defiance simmered, a volatile mix waiting for the slightest spark to ignite.

Sukuna had summoned his court to the throne room, the vast space lined with jagged obsidian columns marked with glowing gold sigils, pulsing faintly with cursed energy. At the room’s center stood two thrones. His was made of black stone veined with crimson, looming large and designed to intimidate. Mine, slightly smaller but no less impressive, gleamed with gold accents and was lined with deep crimson silk.

The lords gathered below, their silks shimmering in the dim, flickering light of the braziers. Their faces were masks of forced composure, but their eyes told another story—sharp, calculating, some filled with admiration, others shaded with resentment. This court was still adjusting to its queen—once a subject of their disdain, now a figure they feared with every inch of their being.

Sukuna lounged in his throne, his crimson eyes sweeping over the room with a dark amusement. He exuded command effortlessly, four arms casually resting on the armrests and his lap. His cursed energy coiled through the air, a constant reminder of the power he wielded without lifting a finger.

I sat beside him, posture regal and unyielding. My crimson and gold gown pooled around me like molten fire, the choker at my throat pulsing faintly, syncing with my own energy. The weight of the court’s scrutiny pressed against me, but I met it head-on, my hands resting lightly on the arms of my throne, eyes scanning the lords with sharp precision.

“They doubt you,” Sukuna murmured, low enough for only me to hear. He leaned closer, a grin tugging at his lips. “You can see it in their eyes.”

“I see it,” I replied, my tone calm but edged with steel. “Let them doubt. It makes their fear that much sweeter.”

Sukuna’s laughter rumbled through the room, drawing the lords’ attention. They stiffened, their unease palpable, as he straightened in his seat and surveyed them with a predatory glint in his eyes.

“Speak,” he commanded, voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Who will be the first to address their king and queen?”

A murmur rippled through the court. Lords exchanged wary glances before one stepped forward. He was older, silver hair neatly tied back, his crimson robes embroidered with gold that caught the flickering light. He bowed stiffly, the motion tinged with reluctance.

“Your Majesties,” he began, voice steady but edged with apprehension. “We are… honored to serve under your reign. But there are whispers—rumors of rebellion stirring in the western provinces.”

The room stilled, and the air grew thick as Sukuna’s grin sharpened. “Rebellion?” he echoed, tone soft but laced with menace. “Do elaborate.”

The lord hesitated, briefly meeting my gaze before returning to Sukuna. “There are those who question your… methods,” he said carefully. “They claim your rule is one of terror, not loyalty. They seek to rally the discontented and undermine your court.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and menacing. He leaned back in his throne, crimson eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “And do you share their concerns?” he asked.

The lord paled, his composure faltering under Sukuna’s piercing gaze. “No, my lord,” he quickly responded, voice trembling. “I serve only you.”

Sukuna tilted his head, grin widening as he turned to me. “What do you think, little queen?” His tone dripped with mockery. “Shall we let this one live to see another day?”

The court’s attention shifted to me. The weight of their stares pressed against my chest, but I didn’t hesitate. I rose from my throne, the hem of my gown whispering against the stone floor. My cursed energy flared faintly, a tangible ripple that sent unease rippling through the room.

“Loyalty is proven through action, not words,” I said, my voice cutting through the room like a blade. “If he truly serves, let him show us.”

The lord’s eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. “My queen, I—”

“You will lead our forces to crush this rebellion,” I cut him off, voice firm. “And you will bring the rebels’ heads to the steps of this throne.”

The room fell silent, the lords exchanging uneasy glances as my command settled over them. The lord before me hesitated, his hands trembling as they gripped the folds of his robes. “If… If that is your will,” he stammered.

“It is,” I said coldly, stepping closer until I loomed over him. “And if you fail, your head will join theirs.”

Sukuna’s laughter echoed through the room, low and resonant, as he watched with sharp amusement. “You heard your queen,” he said mockingly. “Do not disappoint her.”

The lord bowed deeply, his fear evident in every stiff movement, before retreating into the shadows. The court remained silent, their unease hanging thick in the air as I returned to my throne, eyes sweeping over them with sharp intensity.

“You’re enjoying this,” Sukuna murmured, his voice low but edged with approval.

I turned to him, the faintest smirk tugging at my lips. “Perhaps.”

His grin widened, his crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Good. They should fear you as much as they fear me.”

Only when everyone was dismissed did Sukuna lead me back to his chambers. The glow of the crimson lanterns bathed the space in a warm, almost sinister light, flickering shadows playing on the walls like specters. The low hum of cursed energy filled the air, vibrating beneath the polished stone floors. The scent of incense mingled with the faint metallic tang of blood, a reminder of Sukuna’s unyielding presence. His room was a reflection of him—dominant, decadent, and never quite calm.

I stood in the center, arms crossed, my gaze locked on him with sharp intensity. The rich crimson and gold of my gown swirled around my ankles, the jagged sigils embroidered into the fabric gleaming faintly in the firelight. Sukuna lounged against the edge of a low table, arms crossed, his crimson eyes gleaming with something between amusement and anticipation.

“I’m sorry,” I said, arching an eyebrow. “Did I hear you correctly?”

“You did,” he replied smoothly, his deep voice carrying a dangerous edge of amusement. “You’ll move your belongings into my quarters. Starting tonight.”

My lips pressed into a thin line as I took a step closer, the hem of my gown whispering against the floor. “And why, exactly, should I?”

Sukuna tilted his head slightly, his grin widening into something predatory. “Because I said so.”

The casual arrogance in his response ignited a sharp spike of irritation. “That’s not an answer,” I shot back, tone cutting through the space. “I’m not one of your followers to order around like a mindless servant.”

“No,” he said, grin sharpening. “You’re my queen.”

The words hung between us, heavy with unspoken meaning. His four crimson eyes locked onto mine, two half-lidded with calculated amusement while the others gleamed with intensity. The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening with the tension that coiled between us.

“And what does that have to do with where I sleep?” I demanded, not backing down.

Sukuna chuckled, low and rough, his voice curling around me like smoke. “Everything. Your place is at my side—in court, in battle, and in every other way that matters.”

The implication sent a jolt of heat through my chest, but I forced myself to hold his gaze, unwilling to let him see a crack in my composure. “I don’t recall agreeing to that,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

He pushed off the table with slow, deliberate movements, fluid and predatory. The air thickened as he closed the distance between us, his cursed energy brushing against mine like a velvet blade. He stopped just a breath away, towering over me, his grin widening as his voice dropped to a near growl.

“Didn’t you?” he asked, his breath warm against my temple. “Or have you forgotten the way you begged for me the other night?”

My breath caught, the memory crashing over me like a tidal wave. The heat of his hands, the rasp in his voice that left me trembling, the raw intensity of his cursed energy tangled with mine—it all surged back too vividly. My pulse quickened, despite my best efforts to steady it. My defiance wavered, and I could feel it, despite my attempts to keep my composure intact.

“I didn’t beg,” I said, though my voice faltered at the end, betraying the confidence I tried to project.

Sukuna’s laughter rumbled through the space, dark and mocking. He leaned in closer, narrowing his four eyes with satisfaction. “No?” he murmured, his voice a velvet rasp. “Should I remind you?”

His hand moved slowly, brushing a strand of hair from my face with deceptive gentleness. The touch was at odds with the raw power radiating from him. His claws grazed my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine as his grin deepened.

“You clung to me,” he continued softly, dripping with dark amusement. “Cried out my name like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. And when I left you trembling, you still wanted more.”

The heat in my chest flared, sharper and hotter, as the memory burned brighter under his words. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, both to steady myself and to suppress the rising temptation to wipe that smug grin off his face.

“And what of it?” I shot back, forcing my voice into something approaching calm. “That doesn’t mean I’m moving in here like some… trophy.”

Sukuna’s grin softened, just slightly, though it lost none of its edge. “You think this is about possession?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “No, little queen. This is about power.”

His hand moved to my chin, tilting my face upward until our gazes locked. The sharp intensity in his eyes left no room for doubt, the weight of his words pressing against me like the force of a storm.

“You’ve fought for this place,” he said, his tone darkening, almost dangerous. “Claimed it in blood and fire. You’re no longer just standing beside me—you’re ruling with me. And that means every part of you belongs here. With me.”

The declaration sent a shiver racing down my spine, the weight of his words sinking deeper than I expected. I hated how my chest tightened, the way my cursed energy responded to his with a sharp, electric pulse that left me breathless.

“And if I refuse?” I asked, though my voice lacked the sharpness it had before.

His grin widened, his lower hands settling on my waist as his upper ones braced against the wall behind me, caging me in without a word. “You won’t,” he said simply, his tone carrying the weight of absolute certainty. “Because you know as well as I do that this is where you belong.”

The words hit like a blade, sharp and precise, cutting through the last of my defenses. His presence was suffocating, intoxicating, and as much as I hated to admit it, part of me craved the storm he brought with him.

Before I could respond, Sukuna leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he murmured, “You’ll move into my chambers. And when you do, we’ll see if your defiance lasts through the night.”

The promise in his tone left me breathless, the air between us charged with unspoken tension. For a moment, I stood frozen, caught between the fire in his eyes and the pull of my own cursed energy, which thrummed in time with his.

“I’ll consider it,” I said finally, my voice quieter now, less certain.

His laughter rumbled low and satisfied as he stepped back, his crimson eyes gleaming with triumph. “Do that,” he said, his tone carrying a dark promise. “But don’t take too long, little queen. I’m not known for my patience.”

The room felt colder as he retreated, his presence lingering like smoke as he disappeared into the shadows. I stood there, the weight of his words pressing heavily against me, the memory of his touch searing into my skin.

I would consider it. But deep down, I already knew the answer.

The throne room felt suffocating, heavy with the hum of cursed energy. I stood beside Sukuna, but tonight, his attention wasn’t on his throne or the court—it was on me.

“You’ve grown used to standing beside me,” he said, his voice low. “But a queen shouldn’t stand. She should reign.”

I turned to face him, confused. “What do you mean?”

His fingers brushed my chin, tilting my face upward. “I’ll have a throne made for you,” he said, his tone firm. “A seat beside mine. A place for you to rule, not as a shadow, but as my equal.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. A throne beside his? The idea was as thrilling as it was terrifying, but before I could respond, he turned and walked toward the dais. “Come,” he called, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I want to show you something.”

I followed, unsure of what he was planning. He stopped before his throne, its jagged edges gleaming in the dim light.

“Do you know what this throne represents?” he asked.

“Your power,” I replied, the answer coming easily.

He grinned. “Exactly. And tonight, I’ll show you why no one—nothing—can take it from me.”

Before I could react, he moved in close, his hands shifting over my arms, pulling me toward him. His cursed energy buzzed around me, suffocating, electrifying—every nerve on high alert.

“Do you know why I brought you here?” he growled, his voice low.

I fought to steady my breath. “To make a point?”

He smirked. “Clever. But no. This is about you and me.”

His words struck deeper than they should have. He swept me into his arms, and in a blur, I was on his throne, the cold stone against my back. He loomed over me like a force of nature.

“You think you can defy me,” he said, his voice dark and dangerous. “But here, on my throne, there’s no pretending. No games.”

His hands were on me before I could even process what was happening, tearing through the fabric of my gown with ease. The sound of ripping fabric mixed with the crackle of cursed energy as I was left exposed, a shiver running through me.

I tried to cover myself, but his lower hands pinned my wrists to the armrests, keeping me still.

His grin widened as his upper hands parted his robe, revealing himself to me. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes traveled downward, taking in the sheer size of him. His cock was impossibly large, its girth and length a testament to his inhuman nature. The angry red tip glistened faintly, twitching with anticipation, and my mind reeled at the thought of him ever fitting inside me.

“H-holy shit,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper as I stared, wide-eyed and overwhelmed.

Sukuna’s laughter rumbled through the room, deep and resonant, as he leaned closer, his upper hands bracing against the throne on either side of my head. “What’s the matter, little queen?” he purred, his voice mocking but laced with dark amusement. “Scared?”

I swallowed thickly, my throat dry as I struggled to find my voice. “It’s… there’s no way that’s going to fit,” I managed, my words tumbling out in a rush. In the dark of his chambers last night, I hadn’t gotten a good look of all that he had been… carrying, but now, now I was petrified.

His grin sharpened, his crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Oh, it’ll fit,” he said, his voice dripping with confidence. “You’ll take all of me, and you’ll love it, just as you did the night before.”

I instinctively tried to pull my hips away as he hooked a clawed finger under the hem of my panties, sliding the thin fabric down my legs. The cool air brushed against my wetness, a stark contrast to the heat pooling low in my belly. Sukuna’s lower hands spread my legs wider, his grip unyielding as he pressed my thighs against the cold stone of the throne.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his tone mocking yet edged with desire. “Already so wet for me.”

The flush that spread across my face wasn’t just from embarrassment—it was from the undeniable truth in his words. I hated how my body betrayed me, how the slick evidence of my arousal pooled between my thighs, but there was no denying it. I gasped as his long finger slid inside me without warning, the stretch startling and impossibly full.

The feeling was overwhelming. One finger, impossibly thick, curled inside me, brushing against spots that made my vision blur and my breath hitch. His palm pressed against my clit with every thrust, the pressure sending jolts of pleasure racing through my body. I clung to his robes, my trembling hands seeking something to anchor me as my hips began to grind against his hand, desperate for more.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice dripping with dark amusement as his finger pumped steadily in and out of me. “I’ll get you ready before the real thing.”

I opened my mouth to respond, to retort, but his upper hands cupped my face, tilting my chin upward as his lips crashed against mine. The kiss was feral, consuming, leaving no room for hesitation. His tongue, hot and impossibly strong, invaded my mouth with an intensity that left me breathless.

The obscene sound of wetness filled the air as his hand continued its relentless rhythm, each stroke sending me closer to the edge. The warmth of his mouth, the rough scrape of his claws against my skin, the maddening pressure of his palm against my clit—it was too much. My legs trembled, my body arching against him as the coil of pleasure in my belly tightened, threatening to snap.

But just as I was about to fall over the precipice, everything stopped. His hand withdrew, his touch vanishing like the echo of a scream, leaving me trembling and empty.

“No, no, no,” I whimpered, my voice breaking as fat tears welled in my eyes, spilling down my flushed cheeks. “Please… don’t stop. I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you want. Please, Sukuna.”

He chuckled, a dark, mocking sound that sent another shiver racing through me. “Didn’t I tell you?” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “I’m preparing you for the real thing.”

Before I could respond, he shifted me effortlessly, his lower hands gripping my hips and lifting me into the air as though I weighed nothing. I found myself straddling him, my thighs spread wide as he aligned my entrance with the thick, pulsing tip of his cock.

“Wait—hold on—” I tried, but the words dissolved into a choked cry as he began to lower me onto him.

The stretch was unlike anything I'd ever felt, the overwhelming pressure stealing the air from my lungs as he pushed inside. I squirmed, my body writhing against his unrelenting hold, but his hands kept me firmly in place.

“Relax,” he growled, his voice rough with restraint. “You’ll take it all.”

I shook my head, tears streaming down my face as I whimpered against the impossible fullness. “I can’t—it’s too much—”

But Sukuna didn’t stop. Inch by agonizing inch, he pushed deeper, his jaw tightening as my walls clenched around him like a vice. His claws dug into my hips, not enough to break the skin but enough to remind me who was in control.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his crimson eyes narrowing as he watched me struggle to take him. “You’re tighter than I expected.”

I cried out as he shifted, the thick girth of him stretching me in ways I hadn’t thought possible. Every nerve in my body was alight, every sensation amplified as he bottomed out, his cock buried to the hilt. The wet, obscene sound of our joining filled the throne room, echoing off the stone walls as I trembled in his grasp.

“You feel that?” he asked, his voice a low rumble as he held me there, unmoving. “That’s what it means to be mine.”

I could only nod weakly, my body trembling as I tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensation. His hands moved then, one slipping to my clit to rub slow, deliberate circles, while another cupped the back of my neck, pulling me closer until his lips brushed against my ear.

“Beg for me,” he whispered, his tone dark and commanding. “Beg for more.”

And as his hips began to move, slow and unrelenting, I realized with a mix of despair and exhilaration that I would. I would beg. Because nothing else had ever felt like this—nothing else ever could.

The throne room echoed with the sharp slap of flesh against flesh, each sound reverberating off the high stone walls as Sukuna relentlessly drove into me. His pace was unyielding, each thrust lifting me from his lap only to slam me back down onto his thick length with bruising force. My mind was a haze of sensation, every nerve alight as my body struggled to keep up with the overwhelming fullness he brought.

I screamed as he pulled back and thrust into me again, the sudden motion making my eyes roll back, a mix of dull ache and searing pleasure radiating through my body. Tears streamed down my flushed face, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I clawed at his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor me.

"Fuck, look at you," he growled, his voice rough with raw satisfaction. "You're mine—just like this."

Drool glistened on my chin as my head lolled back, my lips parted in a silent cry. He gripped me with all four of his hands, lifting me like I weighed nothing, using my body as if I were made solely for his pleasure. The sheer size of him stretched me beyond reason, each punishing thrust scraping against every sensitive spot inside me with ruthless precision.

The pain that had initially consumed me melted into a fiery pleasure, every inch of him setting my nerves alight. My moans spilled out freely now, raw and unrestrained, mingling with the wet, obscene sounds of my slickness and his unrelenting movements.

“Shit, you feel better than I expected,” Sukuna grunted, his breath coming in short bursts. His crimson eyes burned into me, watching the way my body shook and quivered under his relentless onslaught. “Gonna have to do this every day. Fuck you like this all the time.”

The words sent a new wave of heat rushing through me, my nails digging into his shoulders as I tried to cling to some semblance of control. But control was a distant memory now, lost to the intensity of his possession. My body reacted on instinct, my hips rolling against him, meeting his thrusts in desperate, needy movements.

And then it hit me—something unfamiliar, overwhelming. A sudden build-up of tension in my core, a tightness that felt like it would snap at any moment. It was unlike anything I'd felt before, a cascade of pleasure so intense it bordered on unbearable.

My words faltered, caught in my throat as the sensation consumed me. My body trembled uncontrollably, my breathing shallow and erratic as I clung to him, unsure of how to describe what was happening.

Sukuna, of course, understood. His grin widened, his movements growing faster, rougher, as his hands tightened their hold on my shaking frame. “Do it,” he commanded, his voice a low snarl against my ear. “Come for me, slut. Let me feel it. And I’ll fill you up—if it spills, I’ll fuck it back into you.”

The vulgar promise shattered the last of my restraint. With a sharp cry, the knot in my stomach unraveled, and my world exploded in a burst of ecstasy. My walls clamped down around him, waves of pleasure wracking my body as I threw my head back, my screams echoing through the throne room.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Sukuna growled, his hips stuttering as my release pulled him over the edge. His movements grew erratic, his breaths ragged as he thrust deep into me one final time. His release came in hot, overwhelming spurts, filling me to the brim. The sensation of his cum flooding me sent another shiver of pleasure through my trembling body, my nails raking down his back as I tried to ground myself.

There was so much of him, too much, the thick fluid leaking out around where we were still joined. It rolled down the length of his cock, pooling at the base and dripping onto his thighs, a visible testament to his possession.

Sukuna chuckled lowly, his breath hot against my skin as he held me close. “Fuck, you did good,” he murmured, his tone softer now, though no less satisfied. “So good.”

“Mine,” he said again, the word carrying a finality that left no room for doubt. And as I sat there, completely spent and utterly claimed, I realized I didn’t have the strength—or the desire—to argue.

The throne room was silent now, the air heavy with the scent of sweat, sex, and the faint metallic tang of Sukuna’s cursed energy. The dim light of the braziers cast flickering shadows across the polished stone walls, reflecting the chaos that had just unfolded. The throne itself bore the marks of our encounter—claw marks etched into its edges, fabric askew, and the faint indentations where Sukuna’s strength had gripped too tightly.

I slumped against him, my body still trembling from the aftershocks that coursed through me. His hands, large and steady, rested on my hips—his grip firm yet strangely tender. His chest rose and fell beneath me, the rhythm of his breathing matching the pulse of my still-thundering heart.

The silence stretched between us, taut and electric, until Sukuna broke it with a low chuckle. “What’s the matter, little queen?” he asked, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Cat got your tongue?”

I lifted my head, narrowing my eyes despite the flush still coloring my cheeks. “I’m… processing,” I muttered, voice hoarse but edged with defiance. “Unlike you, I don’t revel in—whatever this is.”

He laughed again, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Whatever this is?” he echoed, his grin widening. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

I tried to push away, but his hands tightened on my hips, holding me in place. “Don’t move,” he said softly, but with authority. “I like you just where you are.”

A shiver ran down my spine at his words, but I refused to let him see how easily he could affect me. “You’re insufferable,” I muttered, though the heat in my voice betrayed me.

“And yet, here you are,” he replied smoothly, his crimson eyes gleaming. “Still in my lap. Still mine.”

His words settled heavily between us, the weight pressing against the fragile truce we’d formed after everything that had happened. I hated how easily he could make me feel small, vulnerable—how his presence stripped away the walls I’d worked so hard to build.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” I said finally, my voice quiet but firm. “Not even you.”

Sukuna’s grin faltered, his eyes narrowing as his grip on my hips loosened slightly. “Is that so?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm. “Because I seem to recall you screaming my name not too long ago.”

I flushed, the memory of his touch flooding my mind. My chest tightened. “That doesn’t mean you own me,” I said, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “I chose this. I chose you. That doesn’t mean I’m yours to control.”

His laughter softened, the sound laced with something I couldn’t name. “Oh, little queen,” he murmured, his hands trailing slowly up my sides. “You can keep telling yourself that. But you’re here, aren’t you? Still fighting. Still rising to every challenge I throw your way. Why is that?”

I bit my lip, the question settling heavily in the space between us. Why was I still here? Was it the power he offered, the promise of standing by his side? Or was it something deeper, something I wasn’t ready to name?

“I’m here because I want to be,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you dictate who I am.”

Sukuna’s expression shifted, his grin softening into something sharper, more deliberate. “Good,” he said, his voice dropping low. “I’d be bored if you did.”

I looked up at him, startled by the honesty in his words. He wasn’t mocking me. He wasn’t trying to break me. In that moment, there was something else in his gaze—pride, maybe? A rare, fleeting acknowledgment of the fire he saw in me.

“Then stop testing me,” I said, frustration slipping into my voice. “If you want me to stand beside you, stop trying to break me.”

Sukuna tilted his head, considering my words carefully. “I’m not trying to break you,” he said quietly, his tone softening. “I’m forging you.”

The declaration hit harder than I expected, its weight sinking deep into my chest. I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could, he leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear.

“You think I want a queen who bows, who breaks under the weight of my expectations?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “No. I want someone who rises. Someone who matches me. Who pushes me. And that’s you.”

The words left me stunned, my breath catching as his hands cupped my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes burned into mine, unyielding.

“You’ve already proven yourself,” he continued, his voice soft but firm. “Now prove to yourself that you belong here. With me.”

The room was silent again, the tension between us crackling like a live wire. For the first time, I saw something deeper in his eyes—something raw, unguarded, buried beneath layers of arrogance and cruelty. And in that moment, I realized that Sukuna wasn’t just testing me. He was testing himself, too.

“I don’t need to prove anything to anyone,” I said finally, steadying my voice against the storm within me. “Not even you.”

Sukuna’s grin returned, sharp and predatory, but there was something softer in his eyes—something fleeting. “Then show me,” he said simply, the challenge in his voice clear. “Show me what it means to be my queen.”

I didn’t respond, but as his hands fell away and silence settled around us, I knew the battle wasn’t over. Beneath the tension, there was an understanding between us—fragile, unspoken, and stronger than either of us wanted to admit.

The storm outside Sukuna’s domain raged on, its unnatural fury tearing through the heavens with a viciousness that felt almost personal. The once-clear skies were now a swirling mass of black clouds, jagged veins of violet lightning slicing through the darkness with deafening cracks. The wind screamed as it battered the stone walls of the estate, carrying the heavy scent of ozone mixed with something far more disturbing: decay, as though the very land itself was rotting.

Inside the throne room, the tension was palpable, thick in the air like smoke. My chest still heaved from the heated exchange with Sukuna, his cursed energy lingering around me, though it now felt distant—muted, as though something else had taken precedence. The braziers flickered weakly, their flames struggling against the weight that had crept into the room, a dark presence that seemed to seep in from the storm outside. The whole domain felt as though it was holding its breath.

Sukuna sat on his throne, his crimson eyes narrowed, focused on something far beyond the windows. The usual arrogance, that smugness I’d grown used to, was absent. Instead, there was a sharpness to him that sent an icy shiver down my spine. His claws tapped against the armrest, slow and deliberate, the sound cutting through the thick silence like a metronome counting down to something inevitable.

I stepped closer, unable to keep the unease from my voice. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer right away. His head tilted slightly, as though listening to something that was just beyond the reach of human senses. His cursed energy flared, a sudden burst of sharp power that cut through the air before it settled back into a steady hum, almost imperceptible, like the calm before a storm.

“A storm,” he said, his voice low, colder than the ice in my veins. “But not one of nature.”

My gaze moved to the windows, drawn to the tempest outside. The sky was a violent swirl of color, crackling with energy. The lightning seemed too precise, too deliberate—like it had a purpose, like it was alive. And something in me knew, even before Sukuna confirmed it, that this wasn’t just a storm. It was something else entirely.

“What kind of storm?” I asked, though a part of me already knew the answer wouldn’t be simple.

His grin returned, but it wasn’t the usual predatory smirk—it was sharp, humorless. “One meant for me.”

The weight of his words pressed against me, heavy like the storm itself. Before I could respond, a sudden, resounding boom shook the entire estate, rattling the walls and sending a tremor through the floors. The braziers flared wildly, their flames nearly snuffed out by the force of the impact. Dust rained from the rafters, and the walls groaned as if they, too, were protesting the power of whatever was coming.

Sukuna was on his feet in an instant, his towering form exuding raw power as his cursed energy surged outward in a protective wave. I felt it hit me, warm and electric, and though I knew it was meant to shield me, it was almost overwhelming—like standing too close to an inferno.

The throne room doors burst open, slamming violently against the walls. Uraume entered, their usual calm demeanor fractured by the urgent energy they radiated. Their pale eyes were sharp, their expression grim as they bowed quickly before speaking.

“My lord,” they said, their voice tight. “It’s not just the storm. There’s… something in it.”

Sukuna’s gaze never left the windows, his hands clenched at his sides, his claws digging into his palms. “Something?” he repeated, his tone dangerous, barely contained. “Be specific.”

Uraume hesitated, jaw tight, before continuing. “A presence. Unlike anything we’ve faced before. It’s… ancient.”

The word struck me like a blow to the chest, the weight of its meaning sinking like lead. Ancient. The very idea of it made my skin crawl, as though the storm outside were some kind of herald, a messenger of things better left forgotten. I exchanged a glance with Sukuna, but his eyes remained fixed on the chaos outside, as if he were daring whatever it was to come closer.

“Ancient,” he murmured, the word rolling off his tongue like a curse. “How quaint.”

Another thunderous boom echoed through the estate, louder this time. The sound that followed wasn’t quite a roar, nor was it fully human—it was something in between, a guttural, unsettling noise that made the air itself vibrate. It was the sound of something old, something wrong, and it sent a wave of nausea through me.

Sukuna stood taller, his claws flexing as if preparing for something. “We have company,” he said, his voice low and predatory, and though the words were directed at Uraume, they felt like a challenge thrown directly at whatever had stirred the storm. The tension in the room escalated, thick and unyielding. It was clear now: the storm outside wasn’t just nature’s fury. It was a warning.

The cursed energy in the room surged, thick and suffocating. It felt like the air itself was pressing down on me, the weight of it almost unbearable as Sukuna’s power swelled to meet the impending threat. I felt a ripple of energy pulse through the room, sharp and electric, and instinctively pressed a hand to my chest to steady myself. But my focus quickly shifted as Sukuna’s grin grew wider, a razor-sharp curve filled with anticipation. He turned toward Uraume, his voice a commanding force.

“Raise the defenses,” he said, his tone laced with authority, as always. “Whatever it is, it won’t breach this domain without a fight.”

Uraume nodded sharply, already moving to leave. But before they could reach the doors, something else pierced the air—a voice, low and reverberating, echoing as if it came from all directions at once.

“Sukuna,” it called, the single word resonating deep in my bones. “King of Curses.”

I froze, a chill creeping up my spine. The voice was unnaturally deep, thick with an ancient malice that seemed to claw at the edges of reality itself. “Your reign is over.”

The words hit with the force of a thunderclap. The windows shattered in an explosion of glass, cursed energy rippling outwards with a ferocity that threatened to tear everything apart. The storm outside howled louder, an answer to the declaration, as though the very heavens were in agreement. I raised my arms instinctively, shielding my face from the shards of glass that rained down, my pulse racing as my heart thudded painfully in my chest.

And then I heard Sukuna’s laughter. It was dark, mocking, yet something else simmered beneath it—something dangerous. He stepped forward, unfazed by the chaos around him, his voice cutting through the storm like a blade.

“Is that so?” he taunted, his words dripping with venom and amusement. “Then come and take it.”

The storm outside flared to life with renewed intensity. Lightning flashed in every direction, striking the earth with such power that the ground seemed to tremble beneath us. The shadows in the shattered windows shifted, writhing as though alive, before coalescing into a tall, imposing figure. It stood there, cloaked in darkness, its silhouette a towering presence against the tempest. Its eyes, glowing like twin embers, burned with a malevolent light that pierced the gloom.

Sukuna’s cursed energy flared brighter, and I felt the pressure of his power build like a storm on the verge of breaking. He stepped forward, his four eyes narrowing, his grin widening into something feral as he extended one of his clawed hands.

“Let’s see if you’re worthy of the challenge,” he growled, his voice low, a rumbling tremor in the air.

The figure didn’t respond, but its presence was suffocating, a weight that pressed down on me and everyone in the room. The storm outside howled with a newfound fury, lightning splitting the sky, while the cursed energy in the air crackled and snapped like a live wire. It was as if the throne room itself had become a battlefield, charged and ready to ignite at any moment.

The figure stepped fully into the room with a final surge of power, its form solidifying, its dark presence swallowing the light. And then, it spoke again, its voice carrying the weight of centuries, its words chilling in their finality.

“Your time is up, Sukuna,” it declared, its tone like the toll of an ancient bell. “The era of the King of Curses ends tonight.”

dividers by @strangergraphics

AUTHORS NOTE When in doubt, write more smut :)

TAGLIST @slutlight2ndver @surielstea @duhhitzstarr @arcanefeelings @numbuh666 @tejan-sunny @lavenderandoranges @after-laughter-comes-tears @maomimii @theplacetoputfics

[paranoiddreams]

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Being Sukuna’s girlfriend is not always easy. He’s the type to show his love rarely, but when he does, it’s aggressive, to say the least.

You’ll often wake up with his large hand wrapped around your neck, his warm fingers just long enough to reach around your entire throat. At first, it was startling—a demon man you just started dating who shows basically no affection is choking you in your sleep? Was he trying to kill you and just got tired half way through??

All of your questions cease although, the moment you find out why he does this. You decided to pretend to be asleep one night as you were lying in his royal chambers, covered in love bites from moments before when he decided to suckle and nip at your skin—another strange way he shows his love for you. Your eyes flutter shut as soon as you hear him walk out of the bathroom, knowing he’s just finished brushing his teeth and is now ready for bed.

The mattress dips when he lies down next to you, inches away at first, but when you feel his large frame hover over your face to make sure you’re asleep, he moves right up against your back. You’re surprised to feel one of his muscular arms wrap tightly around your waist, the other reaching under your head so that you’re essentially using him as a pillow. His chest rumbles lowly when his hand moves below your chin, fingers carefully wrapping around your throat as usual.

You’re waiting for a squeeze, the tip of one of his nails jutting into your skin, or even a few harsh words in your ear. But all you feel next is his fingers tightening slowly, the tip of his index hovering just above your pulse point, before pressing into your soft, pliant skin. You feel your heart race against the pad of his finger, then another rumble from his chest against your back.

“Mine,” he whispers gently, before running his thumb over the soft edge of your jawline. He then presses one last kiss to the top of your head before lying his head down and closing his eyes.

Let’s just say, you never question his weird, sometimes animalistic, possession over you; because in reality, he’s just a big guy who doesn’t know how to express his unyielding love for you.

It’s givinggggggg tiger!sukuna. Should I…explore the waters of that concept more? I probably will despite the reaction to this💪🏻🫡

[kashverse]

“i don’t get you,” sukuna mutters, arms resting on his knees as he stares at your cat, who sits primly on the floor, tail flicking lazily. “you’re small. your head is tiny. you have no claws worth a damn, and yet you strut around like you own this place.”

your cat blinks at him slowly. the audacity.

“oh, so now you’re being mysterious? yeah, real intimidating, runt,” sukuna scoffs, leaning in. “tell me, why the hell do you scream at five in the morning for no reason?”

your cat meows. sukuna nods, as if that was an actual answer.

“nah, i don’t buy it. i know when someone’s bullshitting me.” he strokes his chin, as if deep in thought. “and what’s with the scratching? you have a whole damn tree to tear up, but no, it’s gotta be the couch, huh? or my chair. my throne in this shitty modern world.”

your cat remains utterly unfazed, licking a paw and dragging it over its ear. sukuna clicks his tongue in frustration.

“you think you’re untouchable. you think you can do whatever you want just ‘cause you’re small and cute?” he narrows his eyes. “you remind me of someone.”

you narrow your eyes right back from your hiding spot behind the doorway. excuse me?

but sukuna is too deep in his investigation to notice. he gestures toward your phone lying face-down on the table. “and what’s with you and cameras huh? every time there’s a flash, you go feral. you act like you’re being dragged to hell.”

your cat’s ears twitch. a clear tell.

“ohhhh,” sukuna smirks, leaning in like he’s caught onto something juicy. “what, you got a dark past? you some kinda criminal? don’t want your face out there ‘cause you’re on a hit list?”

the cat swipes at sukuna’s knee, and he actually pulls back with a scoff. “oi, don’t get violent with me, brat. i asked a simple question.”

you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“i should make you my disciple,” sukuna suddenly muses, tilting his head as he assesses the feline before him. “you got the attitude down. the little mind games. yeah… you could be something great.”

your cat sneezes.

sukuna frowns, as if personally offended. “...you’re turning down my offer? just like that?”

he sits back with a dramatic sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “unbelievable. you’re worse than your owner.”

excuse me again???

before you can march in and object, your cat gets up, stretches leisurely, and then—just to really assert dominance—turns around and sticks its tail right in sukuna’s face before trotting off.

he stares after it, jaw clenched, eye twitching.

“…i’m gonna eat it.”

you finally lose the battle against your laughter.