#ryoumen sukuna x reader

[teatreeoilll]

Roommate!Sukuna weekly drabble part 3

"How much longer is this going to take, woman?" Sukuna grumbles as you hover over him, it's been long since he felt that pesky a pain. "Just a little - " You drawl, placing the tweezers between his eyebrows again, trying to catch the hair you've been eyeing all day, "longer."

“Fuck,“ He hisses when you finally pluck it out, his eyes scrunching in pain as his fingers dig into the couch’s fabric.

“You’re acting like a baby,” you chastise, “don’t you want to look nice for your date?”

“How many time do I have to tell you?” He snatches the tweezers out of your hand, smacking them on the table, “it’s not a date.”

“Oh, so just a dinner then?” You chuckle, trying to hide the notes of unhappiness in your voice, “..Is she pretty?”

“Breathtaking,” he responds, watching your eyes drop to the floor before coming back up to meet him with a smile.

“Good,” you utter, pushing out an arm to grab the tweezers from the coffee table, “then let me finish -“

Sukuna slams a flat palm on the tool, “I really don’t think my mother will mind the eyebrows.”

“-Oh.”

-

“It looks fancy,” You mutter when he shows you the restaurant on his phone, “you have to wear a suit.”

“A suit?”

“Maybe a tie, too,” you look him up and down, “don’t want to embarrass yourself, do you?”

When he finally comes out of his room you can’t stop the giggling fit that follows, holding a hand over your mouth to bite back the laughter.

“Quit laughing, brat.”

But you can’t keep the grin off your face, coming closer to straighten his tie, too busy fondling the silk to notice how his face grows red at the proximity.

[alrightberries]

sukuna starts yelling at you in old japanese when he's mad

[angry-geese]

The Weight - Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: smut//not osha compliant. arranged marriage au. blood/cannibalism mention. biting/size kink. unprotected sex, creampies. afab reader

synopsis: an arranged marriage au where the reader chooses sukuna instead of one of the men from her village

word count: 10.3k

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts since probably last february and I finally got around to finishing it lol

jjk masterlist

As mid-afternoon turns to dusk, you realize you have nothing to show for your hours in these woods. You know, reasonably, you should cut your losses for the day, and return home. In a little over an hour, it’ll be dark, and navigating these woods will become a challenge. But winter has come and gone with a vengeance, leaving food stores low. The thought of fresh meat is too much for you to quit now.

Fresh tracks mark the once-smooth creek bed. Deer. At least three. They’ve bedded down here, as evident by the smell, and flattened patches of grass. For several meters, the tracks nearly overlap themselves, before heading off in separate directions. It's been years since you’ve traveled this deep into the woods, and those few times were accompanied by your father, or uncle. Your solitude has you jumping at every rustle of a leaf, and snapped twig. It's when the woods fall silent that you need to worry. That means a predator is near. As long as you can hear bugs, or birds, you'll be okay.

Further ahead—maybe twenty yards—is a buck that stopped to drink from the creek. 

You knock an arrow, lining the broadhead up with your target. Something feels wrong. The string feels too taut. It slips from your fingers prematurely. The arrow hits just behind the front shoulder, and—in theory—should puncture the heart. A shot like that—in theory—should drop an animal like this where it stands. Today it doesn't. The buck takes off running.

Between the footprints, and little droplets of blood, a clear trail is left behind. When you do finally come upon your prey, the crickets have fallen silent. The buck lays on its side in the grass, chest heaving. You ready your knife to put the poor thing out of its misery when something—someone—emerges from the treeline on the opposite side of the clearing. 

Your body is moving before you can fully process the situation. You flatten yourself out on the ground, hiding under the cover of some bushes. If the man does see you, then he makes no note of it. He draws closer, stopping to kneel beside the buck. It’s too dark to make out his face. Something about him has the hair on the back of your neck on end. He hauls the carcass up onto his shoulder, turning to return in the direction in which he came. 

The absurdness of it all has you frozen. You blink several times as if to make sure this isn't your mind playing tricks on you. Once reality sets in, you’re back on your feet, chasing after him.

“That's mine!” You say, hoping the volume of your voice is enough to scare off the thief. It isn't.

What you first assume to be another trick of the lighting becomes a horrifying reality as you notice the true size of the man. The man—being, or whatever he is—towers over you, completely dwarfing you in size. Mild annoyance is all that is visible on his face as he turns to you. From the deer, he rips out your arrow, tossing it at your feet. The broadhead has snapped off, as well as the shaft is bent. If you so desire, you suppose you could repair it. Not that you have any wish to. Sometimes it is simply better to cut your losses.

But you have more pressing things to deal with right now.

“And just what do you plan to accomplish, little lamb?” He asks. “A deer like this can weigh as much as a grown man. Do you plan to carry this back all by yourself?”

It’ll be tiring, but not impossible. Gutting and dressing it here would remove a lot of unnecessary weight, but would render plenty of valuable meat and organs useless. All that extra meat and skin could be used better elsewhere…

You are overcome with the urge to run, yet his gaze has your feet firmly planted on the ground. Your eyes fall to a small red splotch on his kimono—a blood stain. It can't be from the deer, it's far too old. It’s not until your knees knock together that you realize you’re trembling.

The action of him moving closer causes a cry of panic to leave you, unintentionally calling out for your father. 

“What—who are you?!” You ask as you scramble backwards. 

“I am Ryoumen Sukuna, the King of Curses, my dear,” he says. “Now, shall we get this back to your home?”

Fear threatens to overcome you. Even if you could draw an arrow in time, you doubt it would truly hurt him. Yet, in spite of your fear, you know he has no plans to harm you. Once you’re in sight of the village, he sets the deer down, and gestures for you to take the lead.

“Why are you helping me?” You ask. You’re certain the look on your face suggests you still expect him to eat you. 

“Why do you ask?” He says. “Maybe I wanted the location of your home. It seems there are plenty of sacrifices here for me.”

“Wait a minute!” You say, eyes widening with fear. A mix of panic and guilt consumes you. “You can't-”

A look resembling amusement crosses his face. “I mean no harm to your village,” Sukuna says, “but in five years, I will return to claim what is mine.”

The strange man would vanish upon reaching the outskirts of your village, and in the nearly five years that follow, you would not once traverse so deep into the woods. On several occasions, you would try to retrace your steps, but would never once come across that clearing. When you would bring it up to your father, or any of the other village elders, your concerns would be brushed off, or outright ignored. Years would pass and slowly, achingly slowly, you would forget about the man in the woods entirely.

The coming spring brings your twenty-eighth birthday, and the looming threat of being an “older” unmarried woman.

If you had any say in the matter, you wouldn't get married at all. Plenty of older women exist, happily unmarried, yet your mother insists that you must find a husband. Any attempts to convince her that you’re fine with the way things are, fail. Once it became clear you weren't going to seek a husband on your own, your mother took upon the task of finding a suitor for you. Over the course of several months, meetings were arranged with various men, and with each rejected one, your mother grew more desperate to find the perfect match. 

Your mother insists you're cursed. Your father thinks you’re simply unlucky. When you asked how marriage was supposed to fix that curse, she had no answer for you.

In the months prior to your birthday, your mother proposed a deal to you: meet with another man—the son of a wealthy merchant. That if this meeting went well, even if you didn't marry him, she would stop pestering you about getting married. Tired of her pestering, you relented, and agreed to meet him. And as the days draw closer, you only feel dread towards him. 

The outcome of tonight has already been decided by you: failure. Whether your mother knows this or not is hard to tell. Judging her tense nature, you suspect she knows your plans.

“I was already married at your age,” she says, tightening your obi, “I used to have a dress just like this.”

“The difference is, you knew him already,” you say, “and I am meeting a stranger.”

“I am simply doing what I think is best for you,” she says. “This is your chance to get out of this village—to live a better life! Don't you want that?”

Her eyes meet yours in one last pleading glance. It makes you wonder; did she have such a conversation with her mother? Did your grandmother go through such trouble to match her to your father? Or did this come easier to her, than it did to you?

You suppose he’s handsome. The silks he wears are clearly expensive, with threads like woven gold. His features are sharp—what one could describe as noble, but you find him truly dull. But he is scrawny—squishy, with hands that show he has never worked a day in his life. The little conversation he makes is dreadfully boring. His father is an older man, with a graying beard, and sagging eyes. His mother is considerably younger, dressed in blue, with a small scar on her chin. Her silky black hair falls down her back. The little conversation you do have is short, but polite. The typical small talk you would have with a stranger.

Your mother does her best to talk you up. She’s gotten pretty good at that over the past few years. Your father interjects here and there, but it's your mother that does the majority of the talking. 

“She’s strong. A talented hunter. Good with a knife.” Your father says. This time, you’re paying attention when he speaks.

Your potential father-in-law seems unimpressed with your father’s attempts to talk you up. Perhaps if you were a son, this conversation would go differently. If you were a son, your mother wouldn't be so stressed about you being married before 30. Your growing irritation mounts when you set down your cutlery, turning to look the old man in his eyes.

“And what about him?” You ask, motioning to his son. “Look at him—how is he supposed to give me a strong child?”

The energy in the room seems to shift entirely. Your father nearly chokes on his wine, but his eyes are firmly trained on your mother. She glares daggers at you, gripping her spoon so tightly that her knuckles turn white.

“What?” You ask. “I am the one getting married. Don't I get a say in this?”

Are you trying to screw this up? Your mother’s face seems to ask.

“A good father controls his daughter,” the man says, “especially one with such a sharp tongue.”

“I can serve this village, or I can control my daughter, but I cannot do both,” your father says, “she’s not a child anymore, she can make her own choices.”

That earns a small smirk from you. Leave it to him to stand up for you.

“That is exactly why this is so grievous,” the man says, “my son will not marry an old maid with an attitude problem!”

“And I will not have in-laws as insufferable as you!” You bring your knife down on the table, narrowly missing his fingers. This little outburst of yours at dinner will certainly have consequences. Your mother’s wrath is only the beginning.

They don't leave in nearly as big of a hurry as you’d expect from a man who was just threatened with a knife, but they do hurry out, making certain not to look back.

“Maybe we should have offered to let them stay,” says your father, “it’s not safe to be out on the road after dark.”

“We’re lucky to not have them send guards after us for that,” your mother says, and for once, you agree with her. “Threatening a man like that is a new low, even for you.”

After such a disastrous dinner, you’re not particularly eager to go find your parents. You linger towards the outskirts of your village for as long as daylight allows you to. Once it grows too dark to stay out, you begin the trek back to your home, praying your parents—or at least your mother—have simply gone to bed. Maybe your father will forgive such a night, but your mother certainly won't. Over the past year you’ve done enough to earn her ire, this will not help your case.

Sitting outside is your mother, her eyes trained on a dying fire. Although she doesn't acknowledge you, you know she’s noticed you. Part of you wonders if you should speak first. Would that even improve your situation, or simply make it worse?

“You win.” She says. 

“What?” You ask.

“You win. I told you I’d stop after this, remember?” She asks. “Besides, I stopped liking him after that comment he made about your father.”

You still don't believe it's over. No tone of accusation clings to her voice, yet you can't help being suspicious.

“I don't get it.” You say.

“I just want what's best for you.” She says. “I want you to live a long and happy life. Are you really content to spend the rest of your life in this village? Stuck taking care of your brother and father?”

“That sounds like the preferable outcome,” you say, “compared to having in-laws I can't stand.”

“Where does he get off calling you an old maid anyway?” She says.

A small smile crosses your lips. This is about the best she'll get, and she knows this, a grin crossing her own face. A moment that should be one of triumph—at least for you—seems to be more sorrowful. The older you grow, the further apart you drift from her, and with that comes a strange, aching loneliness. You long for a time in your youth; the days when she would play dolls with you in-between house chores. You miss the tiny clothes she’d sew for them. The furniture made of timber scraps she’d hand paint. Oh how long has it been since she last braided your hair? Or brushed it? Or helped you wash it? 

Did she have these same feelings about her own mother? Or was it easy for her? Does she too mourn those moments you used to share?

You don't remember her always looking this old. That’s not to say she isn't beautiful still—age does not nullify beauty. But she looks tired now. The dark circles under her eyes are more prominent than ever. The skin around her eyes crinkles when she laughs, or smiles. Her hair is littered with grays—like little silver threads. She looks like you.

From within the nearly pitch-black woods comes a scream; not that of an animal, but of man. When the scream rings out again, it’s much easier to understand. It’s a cry for help.

Emerging out of the treeline, and following the main road is a man, half hunched over and clutching his stomach. He makes it several yards into the village before collapsing. Enough blood pours from the wound on his side that you can smell it. A metallic taste lingers in the air, stuck to the back of your throat. Blood. 

You’re the first to run over, followed shortly behind by your mother. The injured, shambling figure collapses upon the road. It’s only as you draw closer that you recognize him, albeit barely: the man from dinner. His clothes at one point in time were yellow in color, but are now stained a deep brown in color from a mix of dirt and blood.

“We need a doctor over here!” Mother cries out, her voice echoing against the wall of trees.

Someone must hear, because eventually a group of men burst out of a nearby house. They make quick work of rolling him onto his back, granting you a better look at his wounds. Three long slashes across his stomach. From your mother comes a gasp, followed by her clamping her hand over her mouth. The young man succumbs to his wounds before anyone is able to help him. He’s lost too much blood. People don't come back from that.

“Was he stabbed?” One man asks.

“Looks like knife marks,” comments another.

“Not a knife,” the oldest of the three says, “claws.”

“Do you think a mountain lion got to him?” You ask.

The oldest of the men shakes his head. “Cats like that don't get this close to towns. They avoid people if they can. A bear, maybe; if he got in between a mother and cub. But even that seems unlikely…”

This is why you don't go into the woods after dark. This is why you lock your doors and close your shutters tight when the sun sets. Bad things lurk out there, but they are not bears, nor are they mountain lions.

Something about the height of a person bursts from the treeline. Atop the legs of a chicken is a head only humanesque in the way corpses are. Sunken eyes sit atop a shriveled nose, and cracked lips. Its skin seems to be hanging off bone. Still, it takes you a moment to register that it’s fear you feel. Your palms prickle with sweat, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The urge to flee is nearly unbearable.

More of these creatures emerge from the direction of the nearly-set sun. They appear to come in all sorts of horrid shapes, and sizes, the smallest being no larger than a bird, and the largest about the size of a cow. Fear threatens to overcome you entirely. At least twenty of the creatures leave the treeline, although you suspect more remain hidden within it. The temperature must drop by ten degrees. It’s as if all the moisture has been sucked from the air. Those who dared leave their homes to look at the source of the commotion have now retreated, locking their doors behind them. 

The collar of your dress jerks backwards as your mother struggles to drag you back towards the house. “Get your father!” She says. “Hurry!” 

“What about you?!” You ask.

“Just get your father,” she says.

And you do so, running as fast as your feet will take you. The chilly night air renders your fingertips numb, and your face burning. He’s asleep in his chair, and wakes with a gasp as you shake him, motioning frantically to the door. The words that leave you are incoherent, but he must understand your panic. He retrieves his sword, telling you to lock the door behind him. You don't listen. You never listen, you can hear your mother say now. A sudden burst of light draws your attention—a nearby house has caught fire. Those strange, horrid creatures swarm around it like flies. Several neighbors have exited their houses, and begun throwing buckets of water upon the blaze, but the fire is too strong.

And from the treeline emerges that man from the woods all those years ago. 

In five years time, he has not aged a day. His cruelly sharp features appear the same within the flicker of the firelight. They fall before him on their hands and knees, heads bowed in fear. You only realize you’re shaking when you move closer to the window, peeking out through the crack in the shutters. 

The King of Curses, he called himself, all those years ago.

His mouth moves as if he's speaking, but you can only make out about half of what he says. The ringing in your ears is too loud to make sense of much.

“My offerings lessen, my shrine lies defiled,” he says, “and you humans sit here complacent. I gave you five years to make amends and this is what you do with it?”

You know, logically, that your father is going to die. He is no match for the creatures, let alone that strange man. You must do something. Even if it is beyond logic, or reason, you would not forgive yourself if you did not act.

“Then what is it you require of us?” Asks father, his hands trembling slightly. You can tell it’s more than just the dancing light of the fire. He is truly frightened.

“An offering,” says the King of Curses. “A sacrifice.”

“We have nothing to offer,” says father, “the river has run dry of fish—our crops have withered! We have nothing to offer, we’re starving regardless!”

The King of Curses eyes drift to your hiding place, before landing back on your father. “You said it yourself.” He says. “You’ll starve regardless. What difference does it make that you should give up one of your own? Won't there only be less mouths to feed?”

Your arrows rattle loudly as you pull one from your quiver, knocking it. From this angle, and sitting half crouched on the ground, you can't bring it to a full draw. Not only does that mess with your aim, but alter the power of the shot too. That can be accounted for. You adjust your angle to be a little higher—right above his head. When you release the string, the arrow gives way with a thunk! The shot is dead on; your arrow whistling towards the demon king’s head. He brings his spear up, knocking it aside. Several heads whip back towards you, their faces contorted in a mix of anger, and fear. 

You’re not quite sure who grabs you first—it must be more than one person. Several sets of hands are upon you, dragging you from the house. Any attempts to fight it fail on your part, there are simply too many people to kick off. They drop you in the dirt beside your father. You don't dare look at him. You know his eyes are filled with fear. 

“We’ll—we’ll put it to a vote,” says one of the elders. “All those in favor of sending this woman as an offering…”

Two other elders raise their hands. Then several of the men. Then, reluctantly, the mother of a neighboring family. Even more hands pop up after that. Although maybe a minute passes, it feels like hours. At least a dozen sets of eyes are on you.

“Out of all of you,” the demon king says, eyes following across the crowd that’s now gathered, “she was the only one of you to fight back, yet you punish such an action?”

Silence is the only response the crowd can conjure up. A groan so loud that the ground rumbles beneath it rings out as the house gives way, collapsing in on itself in a rain of ash and embers.

“Wait!” Your father cries out, “let me go in her place!”

Several more incomprehensible sentence fragments leave him. He pleads and pleads to no avail. The last view you get of your village is of the spirits retreating back into the woods.

It must be hours before your state of shock wears off. Dawn breaks bleak and gray over the horizon. The temple he brings you lies in ruin. You must be one of the first people to set foot in here in years. A cracked foundation gives way to walls overtaken by vines. Dust and ash layers the ground, and every surface imaginable.

Sukuna must not expect you to try to run. Nothing is done to prevent you from escaping. There are no doors to lock. No ropes or cages. The only real barrier of escape is the trek home through miles of woods. Should you wait until sunrise, the trip won't be impossible. It is the fear of what remains for you that prevents you from returning.

Would there even be anything to go back to? Is it even worth it after what they did? They did not hesitate as they offered you as a sacrifice. Whatever happens to them… they have it coming.

Such thoughts do little to comfort you. If anything, they make you feel worse. What little strength you have left goes into stopping the tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks. You manage. Barely.

Unable to find it within you to do anything else, you sit. Only a thin, woven mat separates you and the hard floor. Footsteps draw closer down the hall, the noise only amplified by the high ceilings of the temple.

Uraume. That’s what Sukuna called them. A strange being that looks human, but appears to be more than such. They enter the room, a shock a white hair visible before the rest of them is. They wear the kimono of an unmarried woman, in vibrant shades of orange, blues, and pinks woven in the pattern of flowers. Hooked around one arm is a pail of water. Under the other arm is a roll of cloth. Contained within the cloth is a mix of hygiene supplies; a sponge, comb, various vials of oils and creams. 

Uraume treats you like one would treat a frightened animal. They kneel on the ground before you, leaving about the distance of a foot. When you don't flinch, or shy away, they move closer.

“You’re covered in ash,” they say, “let me help.”

With the sponge, they dab away the bits of dirt and ash that have caked to your skin. Human contact like this should, in theory, be intimate, but in this situation it feels like anything but that. Uraume’s touch feels cold, and clinical. With them comes a strange, uncanny feeling, like you are not looking into the eyes of a human, but of a corpse. The reason behind their kindness is a mystery to you. It feels wrong to question them, but you can't help but think there is something sinister behind their actions. Their casualness suggests this isn't the first time they’ve done this. That thought does nothing to comfort you, so you quickly push it aside.

Next, they move on to your neck, then down to the exposed bits of your chest, and shoulders. 

“Such a beautiful dress,” they comment. You reply weakly, saying it belonged to your mother. Their response to that is little more than a hum.

They take your hands, scrubbing the dirt from under your nails with a small brush. After that, a comb is worked through your hair, taking great care to not pull on any knots that have formed. Once they can work their hands through your hair with no resistance, they stop.

Uraume leans back to examine their work, deeming you presentable. Gathering what they brought with them, they make their way towards the door, turning back once to say: “I’ll bring something to eat.”

The events of the night have left you without an appetite. You probably should eat something. It’ll be important to keep your energy up. The little adrenaline left within you has you jumping at any small noise, or shadow. Sleep feels like an impossibility right now.

About ten minutes pass before Uraume returns carrying a platter. Tea, pickled vegetables, a hunk of bread, a bowl of some kind of stew. It smells quite good, but you merely pick at it. Like your hesitation to sleep, you can hardly eat. Uraume sits with you, picking at their own food, but never finishing it. A million questions race through your mind, although you can barely bring yourself to ask them.

Would they even answer you? Or does this have a more sinister plan behind it?

Finally, you find enough of your voice to ask: “Where is…?”

“I’ve prepared a bath for master Sukuna,” they say, “he’ll be joining us shortly.”

Your attention turns back to the bowl in your hands, which soon slips through your fingers, breaking upon the floor. What little appetite you had is soured entirely. This is it. You’re nearly certain you’re going to die here.

Your attempt to clean up the mess is stopped by Uraume. They insist upon cleaning it themselves, taking great care not to cut their hands on the shards.

“Why are you helping me?” You ask, shocked at how small your voice sounds.

“Master Sukuna likes to play with his food before he eats it,” they say.

Uraume leaves shortly after, taking the leftover dishes with them. You remain seated, eyes moving between the two exits of the room. One takes you to the entrance of the temple; you’re not certain where the other leads. The first is almost guaranteed to be guarded, though. Trying to run now is a bad idea. But when will you get another chance?

You will not sit idly by as death draws closer. Like the previous night, you feel as if you must do something. It was your own foolish actions that got you into this mess, says a small voice in the back of your head.

Trapped under your heel is a small pottery shard, left over from the shattered bowl. It’s small enough to conceal in your palm. Sharp. Better for stabbing than it is slashing, but it will be good enough at either. Once Sukuna returns, you’ll get your chance.

The rush of adrenaline has started to wear off now, rendering your arms weak, and your legs shaky. If you were to sit down now, you’re certain it would be a while before you get back up. It is the body fighting itself; fight or flight mode mixing with exhaustion. If you do not stop and rest, your body will give out on you eventually.

So you stand there and pace, clutching your shard of pottery close. Maybe thirty minutes pass in the time it takes Sukuna to enter, but it feels like hours. Adrenaline turns into fatigue.

Tears burn at your eyes again, but you’re able to blink them back. A mix of shock and betrayal has left you nothing short of exhausted. Sukuna’s towering stature only helps to make you feel like a lamb about to be devoured by a wolf.

“I trust Uraume has been of assistance,” Sukuna says. 

Unsure of how to respond, you simply nod.

“What now?” You ask. “Is this the part where you’re supposed to eat me?”

That earns a laugh from him, although it’s strange sounding, as if the very action is foreign to him.

“Many decades ago, the people of your village—among others—would hold a festival during harvest season,” he says, “it was meant as a sign of peace. An offering in return to not raze their homes,

“The people of your village have grown laze, and complacent. They have forgotten their place as humans, and needed to be reminded of it. You are simply another offering. Something to tide me over.”

Sukuna draws close enough for you to feel his breath across the back of your neck. You shudder. Adrenaline courses through you once again.

This is it, you think, you are going to die. 

In one last attempt to preserve your dignity, you aim for his jugular, and swing the shard of pottery towards it. A hand wraps around your wrist before it can make contact. A second set of arms are trapping you against his body before you can even register it. His breath is warm against your cheek, teeth inhumanly sharp in the dim light.

“You are entertainment.” He says. 

That same set of sharp teeth drag up your neck. Some sick sense of pleasure runs up your spine at the feeling: being a little lamb in the jaws of a predator. It would take so little effort from him to render you lifeless that it’s almost comical. Adrenaline turns to delirium in your mind. 

What happens if he finally grows bored of you? It’s not a matter of “if” in this case, it’s a matter of “when”. You have an idea of what will happen once he does.

You don't hear him leave, so much as you notice his lack of presence.

Sukuna is gone for most of the following day. In that time, you explore much of the temple in an attempt to gain your bearings. It’s sparsely furnished, and dilapidated for the most part, but there are some signs of life. On a lower level of the temple is a bedroom, where the bed alone is as big as a room in your home. Must be Sukuna’s. Another, smaller room appears to be Uraume’s quarters. A small kitchen branches off the hallway not far from this. 

The later half of the day is spent trying to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. Thick woods surround the structure, spreading out for what must be miles. To the North is a creek. If you followed it, you might possibly meet up with the river by your village. Whether you could do so before nightfall is another question entirely. Finding yourself stuck in unfamiliar woods past dark may prove to be a death sentence.

Even if you could go back, would you want to? Their lack of hesitation towards sacrificing you still rings clear in your mind.

Sleep seems to be the best way to pass the time. There isn't much else to do around here. In the hours before dusk, you manage to drag yourself out of bed, and into the woods that surround the temple. You justify it by saying that fresh air will do you good, not that anyone asks you. The only person around to do so would be Uraume, though you don't see much of them.

Heavy fog settles upon the trees, causing the day to take on a quiet, sleepy nature. Little cream-colored mushrooms pop up through the layer of moss and dead leaves that blanket the forest floor. Carved out over years of use is a dirt path, barely wide enough for a person to walk through. Following it for about ten minutes brings you to a pond. At one end, the start of a small creek leads downhill. Little fish are visible just under the surface. Leaving your socks and shoes at the shore, you wade out into the water. It’s cool, but not chilly. The mud feels soft underneath your feet. Being outside helps settle your nerves a bit. Outright terror is replaced with uneasiness now. While not entirely better, it’s an improvement to your previous mood.

From the treeline opposite of the path you took, a figure enters the clearing. Sukuna. Adrenaline spikes through your body at the sight of him. Your pulse quickens, and fear prickles in your palms. Every cell of your being is telling you to run.

Sukuna motions with his hand for you to follow him. It is not an offer, so much as it’s a command. Following a short walk on a stoney path, you find yourself overlooking a rock cliff-face, and a small wood hut. Scattered about are several steaming pools, which bubble up from the ground, layering upon the cliff-face like stairs.

Sukuna undressed at the wood hut, leaving his clothes hanging upon the rafters. Your gaze remains firmly on the ground. You should not be seeing him like this. This feels far too intimate. You try not to let your gaze linger too long, but can't help it. The sight of his back alone is hard to tear your eyes away from; the muscles, the tattoos, the curve of his spine. There is a strange, supernatural beauty to him. You eye him with caution, yet curiosity. 

Why has he brought you here? What does he want? Is this simply a ritual before he eats you?

Certainly, if you were to scream, no one would be nearby to hear you. 

It strikes you just how easily his teeth could tear through your jugular. How his sharp nails could shred your flesh to ribbons. Sukuna is far faster and stronger than you, outrunning him is not an option.

Following his lead, you undress, and leave your clothes folded neatly upon a rock. Next comes the task of taking down your hair, and combing through it with your fingers, finding it still knot-free from the events of the previous night. Only then do you approach the largest of the three pools, and wade into it. At its deepest, it's a little above your waist. You could walk all the way across and never once have your feet leave the ground.

You settle upon a rock towards the edge, half submerged in the pool. The hot water feels nice upon your sore muscles. Your eyes trail ribbons of steam as they curl off the water. A wave of self consciousness rolls over you. You sink further into the water, crossing your arms in front of your chest. It’s up to your chin now. Sometime during this, it starts raining. The droplets leave little ripples across the surface of the water. Fall brings the smell of damp earth, and decaying leaves with it. Something that should be comforting only makes your stomach turn.

“You look frightened, little lamb,” Sukuna says.

Is it so obvious? 

“I still don't believe this isn't some attempt to eat me.” You ask, though you’re not certain you want the answer.

“Had I wanted to eat you, I would have had Uraume make preparations.” He says.

You still don't believe him. How many people met their fate at his hands before you? There is no reason why you would be lucky—why you would escape your fate.

“Then what is it you want from me?” You ask.

His expression softens, shoulders lowering with a sigh. The space between his eyebrows is not so harshly creased anymore. 

“I am not like the typical curses you have met,” Sukuna says, “I require your permission.” 

“Permission for what?” You shrink back as he draws closer, stopping mere inches from you. He’d tower over the tallest man, let alone someone like you.

A kiss. Hungry, and overbearing, but a kiss nonetheless. Sukuna has to lean down, and you have to crane your neck up to complete the action. His movements feel stiff, clinical, as if he hasn't done this many times before. The action causes warmth to bloom in your chest, and spread out to your limbs. The hands that cup your face are nearly large enough to encompass it entirely. He tastes like wine, and something vaguely metallic. The thought that it might be blood crosses your mind for only a moment. You’d much rather think about other things. 

“Will you devote yourself to me, completely and entirely?” He asks.

Funny, you think, had a human man asked you the same thing, you would have laughed in his face. Yet you find yourself bewitched by the King of Curses. Curious, and cautious all the same. This is not a feeling of love. It is something else entirely. You are a sacrifice, you remind yourself, this is the fate of a sacrifice.

“I devote myself to no man,” you say, “I don't see how you'd be any different.”

He hums in amusement, circling around you in the water. He stops behind you, slightly to your right. Sharp teeth graze across your shoulder. Large hands trace their way up your hips, then your body, coming to rest just below your breasts. You squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the strange pressure that has built up. Your heart rate picks up in pace. Sukuna must be able to sense this. A low laugh leaves him as he pulls away.

“Well then,” he says, “do I have your permission to continue?”

Continue what? You wish to ask. As if against your mind’s wishes, your head moves in a nod. “Yes,” you say.

You can only imagine the look on his face as you have your back to him. He’s close enough you can feel the warmth radiate off his body. Is he pleased? Amused? Smug that all it took was a kiss to make you let your guard down? 

Hands that should be calloused and rough are quite gentle with their touch. One comes to rest upon your hip, before trailing down to the space between your thighs. Seconds in and your knees seem to give out, your body supported only by him. One finger presses into you, then a second. You sigh at the intrusion. There’s little resistance as he presses into you. You’re too wet. Sukuna’s fingers are much larger than your own, though the stretch you feel is pleasant, not painful. Your thighs squeeze around his hand, drawing a low laugh from him. You can feel it rumble within his chest, which your back is pressed flush to.

Being so close to another being feels odd. The only intimacy you know is a platonic one. A familial one. This is different. Stronger. More intense. He finds the spot that makes you squirm and abuses it, toying with you like prey. It must be a game to him, you think, like cat and mouse. With one of your hands over your mouth, you try to muffle the lewd noises that spill from you. It’s a losing battle. All sorts of pleased sounding noises—from both you and him—echo through the clearing. Secretly, you’re glad this place is so remote. Should someone hear the lewd noises you’re making, you wouldn't recover from the embarrassment. He brings you just to the edge, but refuses to let you cross over. Frustration turns to desperation as you grind against him, chasing your own release. Sukuna doesn't appear opposed to your actions. He lets you work yourself up to—and through—your own release, the noises you make growing gradually more obscene until they come to a head in the form of an orgasm.

You remain in the water for a while afterwards. The layer of fog overhead makes the day take on a lazy, sleepy nature. His hands comb through your hair as you lay against his chest. Such a moment feels uncharacteristically tender for him. While you expect them to be sharp, his nails feel nice against your skin. The mouth on his stomach resembles a smirk, although the expression on his face is flat. Unreadable. A slight pang of disappointment shoots through you. You know it’s unreasonable of you to expect humanity from someone inherently inhuman. He does not—he can not—process things the way you do. Humans must appear so small and fragile to him.

You’re uncertain of how much time passes as you lay there, your limbs tangled with his. It doesn't feel like long enough. No time would feel long enough. You crave the touch of another being whether you want to admit that or not.

“It’s getting late,” he comments. Without another word, you watch as Sukuna dresses himself, and leaves.

You follow him as quickly as you can. You’re not quite fast enough, arriving back at the temple long after him. Dusk follows soon after. 

You find no sign of the King of Curses upon your return. Finding yourself with not much of an appetite, you head straight to bed. Uraume stops by once to offer tea, but you decline, insisting you’re tired, and just wish to sleep. Whether or not they believe you, you can't tell. That’s about the extent of every conversation you have; polite, but short.

Sukuna must not need to sleep. Not in the same way you do. You dress down into your underclothes, leaving the rest folded neatly upon a chair. They’re not dirty, just slightly wrinkled from the events of today. You crawl into the bed much larger than you, and attempt to sleep. When he crawls into the bed beside you, you do nothing to protest.

As time passes, you grow used to his presence. Falling into a routine takes mere days. In that time, you don't see much of Sukuna, or Uraume. Maybe it’s for the best. You’re not certain what you’d say to either of them. You figure it best not to question what Sukuna gets up to in his free time. If the events at your village are anything similar, you figure it best to pay them no mind.

The longer you spend here, the more curious you find yourself. At least twice you find your way back to the hot springs. Familiarizing yourself with the surrounding woods has you growing more confident when navigating it. Animal tracks and trails reveal themselves, bringing more life to the woods. 

Fall turns to winter. Rain gives way to snow, bringing in a bitter stormfront. It’s hard to tell how many days pass as the storm hits, rendering the three of you confined to the temple. Sukuna doesn't appear bothered at all by the cold, but you spend many bleak nights huddled by a fire. Sukuna approaches you on one of these nights; perhaps the bleakest and darkest one before the storm finally breaks. Your inability to leave the temple has you ready to claw out of your own skin. Never were you one to stay in one place very long. 

Days have passed and you haven't spoken much to one another. Not since the day at the hot springs. You find yourself especially longing for them on a day like this, where the cold makes your joints ache, and your lips cracked. Winter is among your least favorite of the seasons. A hot and sticky summer day was always preferred over a day like this. Sukuna must sense it. He finds you curled by the fire, wrapped in an assortment of quilts and fabrics. You can't tell if it’s morning, or evening. Snow has rendered midday as dark as dusk. 

You know you should get up, and toss more wood onto the fire. Should you let it die any further, it’s unlikely you’ll get it started again. Sukuna joins you in the room, sitting on the mat to your left. Finding yourself searching for warmth, you move closer to him. It’s an unconscious action at first. Once you recognize it, you can't find the willpower within you to stop.

You offer the edge of the blanket to him, basking in his warmth as the quilt is wrapped around both of you. One of his hands comes to rest upon your knee. Your gaze is trained on his face, while his remains on the dying fire. 

“I don't suppose you do this to every sacrifice you get,” you say, not expecting an answer.

The corners of his lips twitch into something that resembles a smile. Much life his laugh, his smile is stiff, and rather foreign feeling. Like he hasn't done such a thing in centuries.

“You are different from the sacrifices I have received in the past.” He says. 

You get the impression he is still figuring out what to do with you. Such a thought doesn't inspire confidence on your part, though you assume your situation could be worse. 

You're nearly in his lap now. The hand on your knee soon moves upwards onto your thigh. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as he palms himself through his clothes. Some sick part of you wishes to taunt him. To tease him in the same way he has done to you. You part your legs just enough to encourage him. There must be something wrong with you, you think, no normal woman would enjoy the company of the King of Curses.

This is not your typical virgin sacrifice. It is little more than that. Pleasure for the sake of pleasure. To fuck without the intent to procreate.

“I always assumed you wouldn’t have these… urges.” You say.

“Many things lost their potency,” he says. “Food was never enough to satiate, drink was never enough to quench thirst. Sex has remained the same. Primal pleasure never loses its potency.”

So he was human. At least at one point in time…

“Like I said,” he hums, “I am not like the typical curses you have met. I require your permission.”

“You have it,” you say. 

Oh how dearly you wish to recreate the event at the hot springs. To feel the same build-up of emotions, and the following release. Such mindless pleasure has remained in your head, unable to be stifled by your own hands.

Off comes your kimono, guided down your shoulders by his hand. Your nipples stiffen when exposed to the open air. It is not the cold that has you shivering, but the expectation of what’s to come. His size, and calloused hands suggest his touch would be harsh, but you find to be the opposite. Sharp nails graze down your sides as he moves to kneel before you. You prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.

His own clothes are left among the growing pile on the floor. He pumps his stiffening cock in his hand, the head of which weeps across his palm. A different kind of heat blooms in your stomach.

 Sharp teeth graze across your jaw, down your neck, before eventually nipping at your shoulder. A sting both painful and pleasurable radiates from the bite. Blood beads from the two points where he managed to break the skin, quickly lapped away by him. Part of your brain is telling you to push him away. The other part is telling you to expose your neck further. You’re not certain which to listen to as you lay under him, caged within his arms. Your breaths grow ragged, turning into quiet moans as his knee nudges your legs apart. This is different from the day at the hot springs. Sukuna is seeking something more—he is seeking his own pleasure this time.

A hand finds its way into your hair, gently tugging at it. Guided by his hand, you expose your neck further to him. He laps at the droplets of blood that form, sucking dark marks into the skin of your neck. Pain and pleasure overlap in your mind. Your thighs are a mess of your own slick, and the precum that leaks from the heads of his two cocks. It’s almost comical how you work yourself up in knots at only the slightest provocation by him.

You taste yourself on him as he kisses you. The bleeding from your neck has mostly stopped now. What remains will barely leave a scar. His lips trail down your neck, through the valley between your breasts, and down your stomach, before eventually stopping just shy of your cunt. The look of him alone has you growing as wet as a virgin; his hair disheveled from your hands running through it, the muscles in his shoulders appear more prominent now. His arms hook around your thighs, although he doesn't need to bother holding your legs open. You’d do it without prompt by him. Eager for your own release, and worked up into a soaked mess, you’d do anything to please him.

You shouldn't be enjoying it as much as you are. You know you should be afraid. It would take no effort from him at all to tear through your femoral artery, and let you bleed out. You would be helpless in the matter anyway; you’re nothing more than a little lamb trapped under a big bad wolf.

The feeling of his tongue is strange. With him on his knees, bowed in what resembles worship, has your stomach in knots. The lewdness of it all has you more worked up than anything else. A strange, pleasurable tension builds within you. He is not toying with you this time, but working you over. When you do finally cum, you cum hard, riding out your high on his face. The noises he’s making suggest he’s enjoying this almost more than you do.

He must be painfully hard now. The head of his cock is an angry shade of red, and leaking precum. Using his hand to guide him, the head of his cock presses into you. You’re too wet from his previous actions to notice much of a stretch. What little pain there is crosses over with pleasure in your mind. He groans as he sheathes himself within you fully. His expression softens just enough for you to take in the features of his face. He’s quite handsome now that you’re close enough to appreciate his looks. It makes you wonder what his life as a human was like. Was he royalty, or a commoner? What was his job? Did he ever have family?

You won't get an answer out of him no matter how hard you try. This is the most human the king of curses will ever appear. 

His thrusts are slow at first. Lazy. More like grinding, not proper fucking. With as sensitive as you still are, this doesn't make much of a difference. You’re still a writhing, moaning mess beneath him. Judging by the noises he’s making, he’s not far from cumming himself. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, and that seems to only encourage him. The muscles in his arms and shoulders gradually grow more tense before he shudders, then visibly relaxes. A warm sensation in your cunt follows soon after; he’s cum inside of you.

You lay like that for a while: limbs entwined, bodies curled around each other. He lets himself soften inside of you until the desire to pull out hits. You can tell your hips will be sore in the morning—whenever it decides to come. What little of his seed spills out of you is forced back in by his fingers. You assume it ties into his possessive nature. It must be a way of marking you as his. The fire has long since died out, though you find the warmth from his body adequate enough. 

“I don't think I can walk,” you lie, “carry me?”

Sukuna feigns annoyance, but relents, carrying you to the bed too large for any human. You quickly find your way under the covers. He finds himself in the space beside you. Fatigue hits you soon after, yet you find yourself unable to sleep.

“You were human once?” You ask.

The mood in the room seems to shift entirely. Sukuna is not one for conversation. You expected no different from a man like him. He looks at you with mild annoyance, as if deciding on his answer.

“I was. Once.” He says.

Your fingers trace across the tattoos on his wrist. “Do you miss it?” You ask. “Being human, I mean.”

“I am far stronger now than I was when I was a human.” He says. “I no longer need to eat, nor drink. I have the gift of eternal life so long as I am smart with my actions. I do not miss the fragility that comes with humanity.”

His words almost irritate you. So much more exists to humanity than what he says, from little things like sharing a summer even with a friend, tearing into ripe persimmons. Spending an evening hunched over a stew pot helping your mother. Kisses shared between a lover in the woods, or out in the fields. Stories exchanged by firelight. Intricately woven fabrics and paintings that might as well be indistinguishable from real life. So many beautiful things exist within humanity. Maybe he’s been away from it so long he’s forgotten the extent of it.

Would the King of Curses even admit he’s lonely? Or would he be too prideful to admit such a thing?

“You're sad. Why?” He questions.

“Was just thinking about my mother. That's all.” You say. “She wanted me to get married before I…”

You’re mad at her. More mad than you’ve been at anyone in your life. Yet you wish for nothing more than her comfort in this moment. A wound exists that time won't heal. Anger is not productive in fixing it. Anger only makes it worse.

This time, you are the one to initiate the kiss. You wish for it to distract you, but it only amplifies the ache in your chest.

“If you were to lose what little fight you had left in you, then this would no longer be fun,” he says.

You grow used to the ever-present shadow that is Sukuna, talking to the space beside you as if he is there because hell, sometimes he is. He is more than a mere man. He exists on a level different from you or anyone else. Your existence at this temple feels less like confinement and more like living. 

“Will you join me?” He asks one day by the river. 

The two of you sit upon the riverbank, watching as the water swirls below you. Spring snowmelt, combined with a recent storm, has stirred up the river bottom, turning the water murky. What was meant to be a fishing trip has proved unsuccessful.

“I would be lying if I said I haven't grown used to your presence.” He says.

“Don't be getting soft on me,” you say, half joking.

The most emotion you get out of him is an amused sounding huff. 

“I want you to join me,” he says, “not in life as human, but in eternity as a curse.”

“I will,” you say. 

No thought is needed for your answer, nor is there any hesitation on your part. Sukuna simply nods. That is what love is to him. Devotion. Worship. Throwing away your humanity means nothing if humanity is so quick to reject you. 

Gifts begin appearing around the temple after that. Priceless jewelry, and expensive dresses. Hair pins and cosmetics. Seasons pass in what feels like no time at all. Before you know it, your third fall here is quickly approaching. Winter comes and goes—uncharacteristically bitter this year. Spring brings a sense of rebirth. The ground thaws slowly, and plant life is in full bloom. Animal life returns to the surrounding woods, showing signs in every trail around the temple.

A hunting trip brings you further out into the woods than you’ve traveled before. You don't realize you’re nearing a human settlement until you’ve stumbled upon it.

The village has changed drastically in the time you were gone, so much so that you almost don't recognize it. A full blown mill has sprouted up along the river. At least twice as many houses stand now. Years ago this street was little more than a dirt path. Sometime over the years it has been paved over with river stones. Children play in the streets. Men walk home with pails of fish slung over their shoulders. These strangers notice you and pause, returning to their homes quickly. 

Your house remains mostly the same. Age has not been kind to it. One corner of the roof sags, and the wood trim has grown bleached with time. The path up to the front steps is overgrown. Sitting outside, hunched over a wash bin, is your mother.

Her hair is mostly gray now. Wrinkles mark her skin, and her joints are knobby, but you would still consider her beautiful. The face of the woman she once was is still there. The clothes she wears are of rich fabrics, suggesting your family has not hurt for money. Her sturdy figure suggests they never lacked food either.

When she sees you, her eyes grow wet with tears. And it’s as if the weight of the world has lifted off your shoulders. You want to be angry at her. You want to unload years of anger upon her. You want her to feel just a fraction of the fear you've felt. But you can't bring yourself to do it. The look in her eyes tells you she’s felt all the emotions you have.

Her movements are laced with hesitation, as if she’s deciding whether or not you're real. One of her wrinkled hands takes yours. 

“I love you,” she says, “and I am so sorry.”

“I know,” you say.

She invites you in for tea, setting the table up with the nice dishware—the kind she only uses for guests. The interior of the house hasn't changed much. Your room is eerily the same, as if it hasn't been touched since the day you left. Your father’s boots, and hunting coat remain by the door, although they look as if they haven't been moved in years. Makes sense, you think, hunting is a task that grows difficult as you get older. There comes a time in every hunter’s life where they grow old, and it becomes their turn to stay home and tend the fire.

“Where's…?” You never get the chance to finish your question, the solemn look on your mother’s face is enough of an answer.

“He passed,” she says, pausing to think, “two springs ago now? Maybe three.”

Believing you would never see them again, you grieved your parents long ago.This particular grief is like an old wound to you.

“The village looks prosperous,” you comment. A bitter tone clings to your voice.

“Yes,” she says, “the past years have been kind to us. I suppose we have you to thank for that?”

She sits across from you, her eyes still wet with tears. It feels like you are holding a conversation with a stranger. Your mother regards you with a certain weariness she only reserves for strangers. Maybe it would hurt more if you had more room within you for grief.

“He never stopped looking for you, you know,” she says, setting a cup of tea in front of you. “Even after the village held a funeral for you. He never wanted to believe it. Until the day he died, he was out in the woods thinking he could bring you home.”

“I was under the impression I wasn't wanted here.” You say.

“You know that’s not true,” she says. “What happened that night was a result of fear. The elders did what they thought would preserve the safety of everyone.”

“Except for me.” You say.

Fear. Right. To them, you were simply a sacrifice. You drain the last of your tea, standing from the table. Your mother stands as if to stop you, but freezes before she can.

“Does he treat you well?” She asks.

“Yes,” you say.

“Better than any human man?”

“Yes,” you answer, although you can tell she doesn't believe it. 

“Do you love him?” She asks. “Does he love you?”

“I suppose so.” You say. “As much as he is capable of loving something.”

“But do you love him?” She asks again.

“As much as I am capable of doing so, yes.” You answer.

It is not the answer she wants, but the one that is the truth. With her hands folded in her lap, she nods solemnly.

That following night you leave your village not as a human, but as a curse. 

Enough time would pass that the story of a young sacrifice would be forgotten by its people; what would remain, is a tale of a love so infamous that it survived centuries.

[nutterbuttermother]

Sukuna: I hate you so much I could actually kill you

YN: omg are we about to kiss

[sweetfushi]

SYNOPSIS. sukuna as a girl dad.

TAGS. sukuna x reader, fluff.

NOTES. i was inspired by @dilfsfordinner and their posts about jjk characters as girl dads, so here’s my take on it. (b/n stands for baby’s name because i’m unoriginal).

Sukuna strolls around the clothing shop, specifically in the baby section, with a squealing and gargling B/N strapped to his chest in her sling.

“Alright, little one, Mama told me to get you a new dress for our get-together later,” he recalls, hand resting on B/N’s small head of hair to guide her gaze towards him. “That means you decide which one you want.” B/N doesn’t make any sound or action that resembles a response, only stares up at him with big bright eyes.

Sukuna waits expectantly for a moment, before sifting through the countless racks of frilly dresses and silky bows. "You like this one?" He asks, holding a light yellow dress up for B/N to see. She garbles adorably as she attempts to fit her whole fist in her mouth. Again, no clear response. "Is that a yes?" Sukuna prompts, as though conversing with a reluctant adult.

B/N drools on his chest, reaching out for the dress with wet, chubby fingers, clenching and unclenching her hand. She starts to whine and sob when her father doesn't hand her the dress. "Oh no, come now, little one. There's no need to cry," he affirms, running a hand over her hair. He continues to hush her and make an attempt to distract her from the garment, even going so far as to let her play with his hand (taking into account her love for his purple nails). This satiates her slightly, enough for Sukuna to purchase the dress and make his way back to you, still in the jewellery store he left you in.

Your eyes light up when you see him. "That was quick," you tease, taking the bag from his hand to inspect B/N's new dress. "This is adorable, honey," you grin, eyes lingering on the flowers and bees embroidered on the front. B/N squeals and coos upon seeing you, smacking her father’s chest in excitement. At this, you press a kiss to her cheek and nuzzle your nose with hers.

“Honey, help me decide between these two,” you divert your attention back towards the necklaces you were inspecting, stuck between the silver, much flashier one and the one with the ruby pendant, gleaming at you. Sukuna’s eyes are drawn towards the latter, his heart racing at the thought of you decorating your chest with a deep-red pendant.

His step towards you is definitive as he clears his throat and wraps an arm around your waist. “The red one.” B/N giggles in affirmation, kicking her feet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of the sparkle in his eye. Smiling, you jab him lightly with your elbow, teasing his suddenly infatuated demeanour.

“The red one it is.”

[seniaasaysstuff]

hopelessly devoted; ryomen sukuna (og form) x fem! reader.

not culturally accurate; will have aspects from both chinese culture and japanese culture tho it is based in heian era where sukuna was at the height of his power.

smut next chapter🤭

Ryomen sukuna, the king of curses. This name was known all around and was reasonably feared. People worshiped the man as if he was the second coming of Jesus. Those who were trying to curry favor with the man sent him beautiful women, including many of their daughters as concubines for sukuna.

Sukuna gladly accepted them and frequently visited the beauties. The beauties were all focused on pleasing sukuna and wished to birth him a son and elevate their status to a consort. Sukuna was like a deity to them and they believed pleasing him would bring their family luck and glory.

Now on the day, your parents were about to send you off to emperor sukuna’s palace as a concubine, your vicious sister born from concubine fed you poison in the guise of a nourishing soup.

Your concubine birthed sister thought if you were killed she would take your place and become emperor sukuna’s concubine. She didn’t anticipate that you would wake up and act like nothing happened.

In the modern world, You were drunk and ran out of the club. You didn’t expect to run onto the road in your drunken stupor and get hit by a truck.

When you woke up, you were assaulted with memories of the body you were inhibiting. You felt enraged at the way that low-birth sister and that wretched concubine pei treated you.

Since you were from the principal line, the rest of your concubine-born siblings were envious of you. You received love from your parents, and grandparents and it made them filled with jealousy.

You hated the way the body you were inhibiting was so naive. She treated the siblings like they were all birthed by the same mother. She gave away her clothes, her hairpins, and everything they wanted. You made up your mind that you were about to make these ugly bastards suffer.

You were about to enter the palace as a concubine today and you made up your mind you were going to grab the emperor’s golden thigh and make all that made the previous owner of the body suffer face a fate worse than death.

First, you had to see what kind of golden fingers you had. Since you were a gen z kid who read ancient-era novels and watched anime and Asian dramas you knew you could stir some shit up and wreak havoc.

When you heard from your parents that the man you were being gifted to as a concubine was sukuna who had quite a monstrous appearance it felt like you had hit a jackpot.

Ryomen sukuna was someone you were quite familiar with. Considering the simping you had done when the original designs of his body were released, you were very excited to see the man in the flesh.

Night time was approaching and it was time for you to be sent off in a carriage to your new home with your entire family seeing you off. Your parents and grandmother had tears in their eyes while your grandfather looked sad.

You could tell all of them didn’t want to part with you but this was something that had to be done and you understood that. The carriage reached the palace and you were ushered off to your tiny estate. You brought five dowry maids along with you. You were bestowed with two eunuchs and a maidservant.

You were given a rosewater bath and the maids dressed you up in a sexy negligee and put a huge ass wedding dress on top of that. A huge veil was placed, making you unable to see anything. The maids then left you alone in the room.

The room was dark and the only glimmer of light was from the candles.

You were squirming in excitement. You were about to meet one of your favorite anime characters even though his fraudulent behavior was questionable at times you loved him.

You yawned, feeling bored out of your mind.“When is sukuna coming? Like this is so boring. Been waiting for that guy for so long for fuck sake,” You grumbled loudly. You weren’t aware of your surroundings and failed to listen to the footsteps of someone approaching.

A deep chuckle was heard. “Did I just hear someone calling out for me?” The voice crooned, making you squeak.

“Aww is my concubine shy?” Sukuna spoke in a low voice. You shyly nodded.

“Words love.” He softly said. “M’not shy,” you replied, your face covered in a red hue.

Sukuna removed the veil from your face and gently caressed your cheek. “Your father didn’t lie when he said you were beautiful.” He whispered as he softly tilted your chin upwards.

You gasped, “You think I’m beautiful?” Hearing one of your favorite characters say that you’re beautiful was just sending butterflies down your stomach.

You huffed, “Look at you. You're hotter than anyone on this planet well… except Toji but he doesn’t exist right now.”

You added as a second thought, “Well if you have two dicks and we can count that stomach mouth of yours then you are the best man alive.”

Sukuna let out a deep chuckle. “And pray tell how do you know about my body anatomy?”

You cursed, you should stop babbling. “I have dreamed about you a lot actually.” “Well, shall we make your dreams a reality?” Sukuna teasingly spoke. You nodded your head.

Sukuna wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and pulled your face close to his. He rubbed his thumb on your lower lip. You were feeling a bit mischievous so you stuck your tongue out and licked his thumb.

“Sweetheart just say the word I can give you another thing to lick,” He smirked. “Oh I’d love that,” You winked at him.

“You minx,” He growled. He picked you up and sat you down on his lap, so now you were facing his humongous chest.

His stomach mouth decided to be cheeky and licked your hand, making you jump. “Pfft-” Sukuna chuckled. “Hey! It wasn’t funny!” You whined, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden.

Sukuna kept looking at you with that enamored look in his eyes, it made you feel shy and it made you want to run for the hills. It felt like the man was slowly getting obsessed, and if that obsession grew even deeper? You wouldn’t be able to escape, not that you wanted to.

You caressed his cheek. “You’re a beautiful being sukuna ryomen and being able to meet you was a pleasure,” you whispered.

“C’mere you sweet sweet vixen,” he spoke as he grasped your chin, tilting your head upwards so that you could look at him. His one pair of hands gently ran all over your body. You ground your body against his thigh, a feeling of bliss washing over you.

You gasped as his hand brushed over your waist, slowly and steadily making his way towards the inner of your thighs. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against your lips. His tongue brushed yours, he tasted like sweet sake.

“My sweet girl, you are a treasure,” Sukuna breathed out as he broke away from the kiss, a smile etched on his face as he glanced at you.

[dollysilena]

no grave can hold my body down

(i’ll crawl home to her)

ryoumen sukuna, before he was a curse, was once a man.

genre: female implied reader but can be read as gender neutral, reincarnation au, unrequited feelings, unedited ngl, inspired by work song by hozier, angst angst angst

long before ryoumen sukuna was a demon, the king of curses with four arms and two faces, he was once a man.

though, that has been long forgotten in history. sometimes, he even forgets it himself. the habits of being a cursed spirit had erased whatever was left of his mortal self from hundreds of years ago. he only enjoyed the carnal desires of blood, lust, and revenge. he had long forgotten what human emotions were, jealousy, anger, love. 

atleast he thought he forgot what all those were, up until he looked at you through the eyes of his new vessel.

ryoumen sukuna was once a man, who had a lover.

he swears his blood runs cold and he wasn’t even aware that could happen anymore. there you are, standing before him, hundreds of years after you died. 

over the course of a millennium of carnage and curses, your once distinct face had become hazy with time, until eventually he chose to forget you completely. he had no use for the memories of his once-human self. he was a demon now, afterall. but what a twisted curse chance of fate it was, that the reincarnation of his past lover had manifested infront of him, no, rather, it was infront of his new vessel. 

you had no idea who he was, much less that he was inside of yuuji itadori, watching you from afar.

he hadn’t even realized that curses could still feel and it repulsed him. what use could he have for you now? a mere human had no value to him. you don’t even remember your past life.

but he remembers it all.

it was easy to chose to forget, but there’s still an echo of you in his mind. the memories still crept through him like unrelenting roots to a tree. 

he remembers the way his hands, before they were covered in markings and his nails became claws, roamed your skin under the silk of your robes, as the cicadas buzzed outside and the first petals fell from the trees above you. your skin was illuminated by lantern light as he recalled the shape of your lips, stained like they bit into ripe fruit. but the memory that sears so deeply into his mind was the way you looked at him without fear.

there’s a bittersweet taste washing over his tongue, and it isn’t blood. he almost thinks it’s sorrow. it’s too similar to fear, for his liking. he swallows it back down, and buries it deep somewhere in himself where he hopes it will rot away.

he doesn’t act, no, that would be impulsive and too human. something he used to be. instead he watches you from the eyes of his vessel. 

and from his glimpses of you, even after hundreds of years, countless reincarnations, you’re still the same. for once, his focus isn’t on the simple demonic pleasures he’s grown accustomed to, they’re on you. a foolish human, the kind he so despises.

he wishes that it was as easy to despise you.

he feels you creeping through him, and not just in memories this time. it’s like webbing ivy, slowly but surely growing and entangling him. 

he recognizes the crinkle by your eyes when itadori gets you to smile, the familiar lips he begins to crave again, and worst of all, the tenderness of your eyes when you look at him without the thought of evil whispering in the back of your mind.

he wonders that if you’re still the same now, then maybe your love is still the same too.

but no, you’re not looking at him, you’re looking at the brat he’s trapped in.

he buries the grotesque thoughts of longing deep in the chasm of what used to be known as his heart. but he realizes it was never quite gone. 

it’s sickening really, he has no use for menial things like feelings, and he has no use for you. atleast that’s what he tells himself when he sees, feels, you press a chaste kiss onto itadori’s lips.

he tries to ignore the dull ache in his bones everytime you kiss itadori afterwards. but like your feelings for the damn brat he’s caged in, the dull ache grows into kindling, and slowly burns into a fire. 

it’s been so long since he’s felt anything that he almost can’t place his finger on what it could be, but he reit’s undoubtedly hatred. it consumes him like a fever.

it’s hatred for itadori, for making him watch this stupid puppy love from his internal cage. it’s hatred for himself for being foolish enough to degrade himself, the king of curses, into yearning for a human. it’s hatred for you, for making him feel again.

then came the deal.

“one: when i chant “extension,” you’ll hand over your body for one minute. two: you’ll forget this promise– i’ll promise that i won’t kill or injure anyone during that minute.”

of course he struck the deal as a means to his greater plan, but there was a whisper of a thought… he could see you again.

it’ll only just be once, he tells himself, just to finally put an end to this idiotic pining. it’ll be the means to an ends, and once it’s over, he’ll simply find a way to get rid of you. either from his thoughts or just entirely. he ignores the way he actually can’t bear the thought of that happening.

“extension.”

he then finds himself in a memory. the one he keeps replaying over and over.

the image is nearly identical, you laid beneath him with a flushed face as your delicate eyes gazing up at him without a trace of unease. he only realizes it’s not a memory when he realizes he’s in the modern age, where you aren’t outside listening to cicadas as cherry blossoms fell, but to whatever music you have playing as you laid snugly in your bed.

“yuuji?” you hum from beneath him. your voice makes him snap back to reality.

you seemingly hadn’t noticed the switch between the two. though, there would be no way to, considering that the markings strewn out over his body were only noticeable to himself and itadori. you, stupidly and thankfully, were blissfully unaware.

“what are you doing?” you giggled from beneath him, the sound too familiar for his liking. “kiss me already.”

he’s taken aback by the brazen request until he realizes you still think he’s itadori, your lover. for a brief moment, he’s repulsed to say he considers it. he should refuse, and extend himself back to his domain. while he’s done worser things than a simple kiss, kissing you seems too… vulnerable. it would anchor him too deeply into what he thinks is human. but you, laid beneath him, pliantly and unmistakably beautiful, makes him crave it too badly enough to reason anymore.

he finds his way to you, and the craving develops into a hunger. you’re warm to the touch, the once forgotten taste of your lips now familiar again. he feels the hairs on his neck rise when your hand gingerly comb through his locks as you melt beneath him. you’re consuming every inch of him and he feels as if he’s being burned away in a fire.

no bloodlust, carnage, or other carnal pleasure could satisfy him anymore. now that he’s remembered how it was like to touch you, to be touched by you, he couldn’t go back. not now, not ever again.

but the minute is over in the blink of an eye, and he finds himself in his domain, now left with only a pit in his stomach, and the feeling of you still ghosting on his lips.

ryoumen sukuna was once a human. but you still are. and you could never love a demon.

[actuallysaiyan]

hi hello, may I request the prompts 2 and 3 where sukuna is person A and reader is person B pretty please 💗

event here.

warnings: smut, oral sex(fem receiving), dub-con, mentions of drugging/aphrodisiac use, Sukuna is his own entity/not connected to Yuji, vaginal fingering, oral fixation, drinking, weed smoking, lots of mouths word count: 0.8k pairings: Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader prompt: Person A has an oral fixation, and decides to put it to use by worshipping Person B's body with their mouth, teeth and tongue. Someone/(Person A) spilled some aphrodisiac into Person B's drink. It's up to Person A to deal with horny Person B or to take advantage of them.

You had been sipping on your beer for a little while now. But something was different about all of this. You couldn’t fight the lingering feelings of need that were gnawing at the pit of your stomach. It was supposed to be a chill night with Sukuna, and yet here you were, practically humping the edge of the couch for a little relief. You did all that you could to hide it, but Sukuna is smarter than you think. He’s quite perceptive in all the things that you do.

He smirks as he watches you squirm. This is going exactly to plan. He takes a swig of his beer and sets it down on the coffee table. Then he picks up the joint that’s waiting for him, and he places it between his lips. You can’t even really look at him, your need growing more and more as the minutes tick by.

Sukuna takes a drag off the joint, then he passes it to you. “What’s the matter?” 

You shake your head and take the joint, inhaling the sweet smoke. 

He then takes the joint back from you, your fingers brushing together. Your cheeks redden and your heart skips a beat. You keep thinking it’s just the booze and the weed making you this horny, but it feels so different than usual. Sukuna continues puffing on the joint, his hand coming down to take yours.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teases. Just the sound of his voice has you reeling right now. 

You don’t know what’s come over you. You feel just how horny you are and how wet and sticky things are between your thighs. A small moan bubbles from your chest and rises through your lips. The sound of your arousal fills the air and it makes Sukuna even more smug than before.

“What is it, princess?” He leans in and presses a kiss to your neck. “Do you need something?”

You rub your thighs together, looking down at your hands. You don’t really want to tell him that just a little beer and a little weed has made you this horny, but you’re sure he always knows about it. 

His warm breath hits your neck and your ear, before he nips at the soft flesh there. He’s always been a fan of making you feel so flustered like this, and you always play the part of being innocent oh so well. It makes his cock so fucking hard. It’s almost too good to be true right now.

“Sukuna…I feel funny,”

He laughs loudly, then he pulls you even closer. While his lips are on yours, his hands busy themselves with undressing you. It takes no time for you to be nude and spread out on the plush couch for him. His eyes are dark with lust, and yours are heavy with need. Sukuna doesn’t need more convincing than this.

You let out the cutest little whine when the mouths on his palms begin sucking on your nipples. They are perky and hard, and he kisses you so passionately while he allows mouths to appear wherever he feels you need them most. As the mouths suck on your nipples, his hands knead the tender flesh of your breasts. You’re already dripping wet already, and he’s just loving it.

“Such a pretty girl for me,” he shoves one of his hands between your legs. “You are such a good girl.”

You yelp at the sensation of the mouth on his palm licking and sucking at your aching cunt. The tongue flicks against your clit, and Sukuna begins kissing down your chin and to your neck. He’s going to map out your body with all of his mouths. He’ll even lick you deep inside once he’s balls deep inside you. He’s going to show you what those mouths can do.

Shivers run up and down your spine as you feel all these little sets of lips and tongues prodding and licking your soft skin. Whatever Sukuna slipped into your drink, it’s certainly heightening your senses. You’re fully convinced that he has given you some sort of aphrodisiac. You can’t help but moan and buck into the ministrations. You’ve never ever felt so many tongues and lips sucking and licking you. And the one that’s sucking and licking at your cunt has you so close to the edge already.

His teeth sink into your neck and you cry out. Sukuna shoves two of his fingers deep inside of you, and that’s when you feel the tiny little tongues on his fingertips. Your eyes roll back in your skull and you’re panting and begging for him not to stop. He’s going to see this one through completely.

“Let go for me, babydoll. Let go for your master…”

A few more thrusts of his fingers and you’re cumming hard. Your back arches off the couch and your thighs shake as all the tongues and lips move in tandem to make your orgasm even more intense. Slick juices gush from you, soaking Sukuna’s hand and arm along with the couch cushions beneath you.

“Look at you,” Sukuna coos in a mocking tone. “All messy for me.”

[bokutosbiceps]

meeting the house guard dog

ryoumen sukuna x afab!reader | fluff | ~550 words 

warnings: suggestive themes, otherwise none !!

a/n: this is for my darling @kamesama ,, we came up with this lil idea that we're besties who'd date yuuji n sukuna in the au where they're brothers. so this is my first meet drabble for kame n sukuna !! 🤭 i hope ya enjoy, my loves !!

18+ MDNI

“who the hell are you?” piercing brown eyes, and a sneer so sharp it makes you step back, look down on you. the man standing in the doorway does a once over of your body and shifts slightly.

you minutely shake your head and take a step back forward, clearing your throat and regarding this (handsome) stranger with as intense a look you could muster.

“what’s it to you?” you scoff, tilting your chin up so you could look him in the eyes.

“maybe because i live here, you b–” 

“‘kuna!” a mirror image of the asshole before you rushes up behind him. “stop it!” this second stranger wrestles his way to stand in the doorway with the first stranger. he offers you an apologetic smile.

“hi!” he introduces himself as yuuji, your housemate/best friend’s boyfriend, and invites you to come inside while you wait for her to come out.

yuuji disappears back into the house as quickly as he appeared from within it and you try to follow him inside but are stopped by the first stranger’s arm. kuna, yuuji had called him.

you look back at him and he’s still glaring down at you. he exhales a groan through his nose and crosses his arms, moving to the side to give you the minimum amount of space to enter the house.

once you cross the threshold, you turn to sukuna with a sly smirk.

“‘kuna?”

“sukuna.”

“what are you, the house guard dog?”

“yuuji’s brother.” 

“interesting.” you cross your arms and push past sukuna, looking around the foyer as you enter the house. “nice place.”

sukuna scoffs and closes the front door, leaning his back against it. “so why’re you here?”

“i'm picking up my best friend.” you sit down on the bench a few steps from the door. “yuuji’s girlfriend.”

“she probably won't be out for a while.” sukuna drawls, walking deeper into the house. you get up and follow him, questioning him. “her and my brother have been having an…awakening of sorts.”

your eyes widen and you stifle a chuckle at sukuna’s implication. he sits down on the couch, man spreading to provide next to no room for you. he lets his arms hang off the back of the couch and he leans his head back a bit, always seeming to look down at you.

“great…” you stand in front of him, fidgeting with your fingers as you think of something else to say. “i guess…yuuji can bring her home.” you motion toward the door. “i should go then.”

sukuna watches you turn around, letting his eyes travel to your ass without a shred of shame. nice, he decides. he clears his throat again, causing you to turn around.

you watch as he shifts so that his knees approximate and there's suddenly enough space for you to sit next to him on the couch.

“you could go…if you're afraid of getting your ass beat in mario kart.”

you fight back a smile and walk to where sukuna is sat, feeling like you're on stilts, and take the spot next to him on the couch. he passes you a switch remote and turns on the console.

“you're actually allowing me to stay?” you tease, accepting the switch remote from him.

“don't give yourself a stroke thinking about it too much, doll.” sukuna keeps his gaze trained on the screen but lets his knees fall open once more. "it ain't that deep."

you gulp at the physical contact and focus on the screen as best you can. but it's extremely hard, given there's a certain pink haired, handsome asshole bumping his knee against yours to distract you.

taglist: none! lemme know if you wanna be added to my jjk taglist !!

[teatreeoilll]

w/c: 750 Part I - A drabble - headcanon thingy of our favorite king of red flags curses, set in a Heian-era village. i dunno anymore. | Part 2 here

Childhood!FriendSukuna who first met you as he stood at the brink of death.

"Mom, hey, mom." You tugged at her sleeve, directing her gaze at a frail boy, about seven or eight, on the verge of collapse behind the village market stall, "Can I give him an apple?" It's a bad month, she thought, glancing at the contents of her basket; this kindness might cost an empty stomach later on.

"No dear, he'll be fine." But you already ran off with an apple, your tiny legs making their way to the sickly boy.

"Here," you held the apple in front of his face, to which he narrowed his eyes, extending a scrawny arm to smack it away.

"I don't need your trash." He barked, his voice harsh as he gathered saliva in his mouth, spitting at your feet, “Peasant.”

As soon as your mother dragged you away, he picked up the apple, eating it whole.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who didn’t mind the insults the villagers threw at him while he was knee-deep in mud, plowing the fields for a cup of stale rice in the evenings.

"That brat is cursed," the whispers would grow amidst the village's council meetings, "If we stop feeding him, he'll leave."

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna, whose malnourished limbs betrayed him as he fell face first on the rice terrace with the hot sun still ablaze on his back.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who woke up almost a day later under an unknown ceiling, fever gnawing at his head under a wet cloth.

"Mom! Mom!" You shrieked from the corner of the room, "He's awake!" and a woman came in with a warm cup of tea, the taste of which lingered on his tongue as he drifted back to sleep.

"Let me die, brat." His hoarse voice was still weak when he came back to his senses as you placed a fresh, dampened cloth over his forehead.

"My name's not 'brat,'" you informed with a scoff, "It's (Name); what's yours?"

Too ashamed to admit he didn’t know the answer, he turned away and closed his eyes.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna, whose mouth hung agape when you pressed a chaste kiss on his forehead one night while muttering, 'mother told me that a kiss can heal any sickness'.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna, who disappeared as soon as he found the strength to walk again, returning to the fields only to find that the farmer's wife would no longer spare him dried-out rice when he finished a day's work.

"They should have let him die," he heard the farmer's wife proclaim through the thin walls of the cabin, "That self-righteous linen maker and her irritating daughter. That brat probably cursed them, too."

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who killed the farmer and his wife, unleashing a torrent of power he never knew resided within him; some kind of strange magic, he thought, wondering if the whispers of curses were more than the village gossip. The air hung heavy with the metallic tang of blood, and for the first time, he could breathe.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who disappeared after the crime, only to emerge a decade later, leaving a trail of chaos in his wake as he razed and burned each village in his path - laughing as he watched the terror-stricken villagers bow at his feet, crying and begging and dubbing him devil.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who spared you as the village you once called home turned to ashes around you.

"I owe no debt to you now." He announced.

Tears pooled in your eyes, and a scream escaped your lips as you broke down on your knees before him, "I should have listened," you wailed, fingers clawing at the dry dirt beneath you, "They said you were cursed," you hurled a mass of dirt at him, hitting his chest, "They said the devil came to the village the day you were born."

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who passed through the village again the next day, just to see you lying between the rubble, limbs sprawled on the dirt and ashes.

"I've extended you kindness." He said, covering the sun with his frame as he loomed over you, "Leave."

And you laughed, shaking and howling until the sides of your body started stinging, and the words came out as mere gasps; "And go where?"

"Wherever you wish."

"Home," You declared, locking eyes with his confused expression, "I want to go home."

You weren’t sure what sick thoughts ran through his mind when he leaned down to press a chaste kiss on your forehead, so you smiled, his face still a mere inch away from yours; "It's my fault." you confessed, "So, the next time we meet, I'll fix it, okay?" A deadpan expression took over as you added, "I'll kill you myself."

-

[theprettyarachnid]

being sukuna’s slave

a/n: i’m sure it’s been done a zillion times but i thought of the idea and i wanna write it

warnings: semi-nsfw

character(s): sukuna

🕷️ sukuna treats you more as a pet unlike his other slaves

🕷️ he just blamed it on the fact that you were attractive and easy to manipulate

🕷️ he’s very controlling and overprotective, he doesn’t trust others to be around you when he isn’t there

🕷️ you’ve snuck off a few times to be around other people and curses (who are bound to him in some way) without sukuna’s red eyes watching your every move

🕷️ eventually sukuna caught you and dragged you off, holding your arm too tight to the point where you were begging him to let go, while berating you

🕷️ you noticed that you didn’t see the person and curse you were talking to anymore

🕷️ sukuna’s punishments are cruel and unusual and always humiliating to some degree

🕷️ the punishments range from standing naked in his room and trying not to move a muscle while he inspects and touches you in various ways to being locked in his room forced to wear nothing but your underwear with your hands bound behind your back

🕷️ he always places you right on his lap while he’s sitting on his throne

🕷️ sukuna has made a habit of twirling your hair while you sit on his lap while you’ve made the habit of looking over his hands, tracing scars and veins

🕷️ he didn’t like it at first and would swat your hand away, sometimes making you cry when he hit you too hard, but he eventually got quite fond of you and your little habit

🕷️ more so you than anything else

🕷️ sometimes checks on you while you’re sleeping on his gigantic mattress somehow rolled up in half the blanket

🕷️ the few things he does make you do are very  intimate such as bathing him

🕷️ sukuna has a gigantic bath tub and has you and only you bathe him

🕷️ he makes you get it ready, making sure it’s a good temperature before he gets in while he just sits and watches you in only a robe

🕷️ he laughs every time he takes his robe off seeing you look down at the floor with your face burning red

🕷️ when you look back up, he leans his head back and gives you a sly smile

🕷️ sukuna’s favourite part is when you wash his hair because your hands feel so soft compared to his and you’re so gentle that sometimes he can’t stop himself from closing his eyes

🕷️ you definitely notice this because every time you bathe him, your voice gets a little softer because these are one of the few times he looks something close to content, almost human

🕷️ there have been a few occasions where he’s made you get in the tub with him and sit between his legs watching you focus only on washing his chest

🕷️ sukuna likes stroking your cheek or moves any stray hairs that are covering your face

🕷️ it’s one of the only times he can be actually gentle towards you

🕷️ another one of your chores is to massage any and all knots in his shoulders after you both leave the bath

🕷️ he sits on one his floor cushions while you either sit on a chair or the bed and get to work

🕷️ sukuna usually takes this time to complain to you about the other servants or anything that isn’t particularly going his way

🕷️ you usually only reply with quiet hums as to not cut him off

🕷️ when you’re finished, he turns around and gives you a real kiss for the first time

🕷️ sukuna’s given you kisses on the hands or shoulders but never kissed you on the lips

🕷️ gets a little offended and gives you a look when you don’t kiss him back which you promptly do

🕷️ “that’s better”

[lizardboiii]

｡･:*˚:✧ANGER MANAGEMENT {Possessive!SukunaxFem!Reader}

--------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------

✧Summary: Anger management was by no means your strong suit. No amount of lessons or prayers could change that. In fact, it feels like you’ve been doing a lot worse lately with the appearance of a new neighbor in your next door apartment.

✧Chapter summary: Gojo continues to haunt your dreams. Is this a premonition or just punishment?

✧Warnings: 18+, SFW, vulgar language, Satoru Gojo✧

--------------------------------------------------------------

｡･:*˚:✧⤷Pairing: Ryoumen Sukuna x afab!reader

｡･:*˚:✧⤷Chapters: (i) (ii) (iii) (iv) (v) (vi) (vii)

｡･:*˚:✧⤷w/c: 3k

｡･:*˚:✧⤷Tropes: NeighborsAU!, AncestorsAU!

--------------------------------------------------------------

｡･:*˚:✧⤷Chapter V : BESERK

--------------------------------------------------------------

"I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!”

Your wrists stung as you savagely yanked and pulled against your restraints. The rickety office chair you were strapped to rattled with every thrash.

You glared at the white haired male who leaned against his desk. His ‘innocent’ smile mocked your failed attempts of escape.

“I gave you an option.”

“CLEARLY YOU DID NOT!”

Gojo playfully shrugged at your seething form. If your hands weren’t currently tied to the chair’s arm rests you were sure they’d be around his neck by now. 

Yelling in frustration, you clenched your fists the best you could, “This is insane even for you, Gojo!”

Ignoring your complaint, Gojo hummed passively, tapping a nimble finger against his mahogany desk, “Your last name.”

You quirked a brow at Gojo’s sudden change of topic, “What?”

“It’s of similar status to the three clans who used to dominate Japan in the Heian period, is it not?” Gojo titled his head, “Kamo, Zenin,” he pointed to himself, “Gojo.”

You flinched at the sudden chuckle that forced itself from his throat, “But it’s even closer to that of Ryomen.”

Ryomen?

Confusion laced your face. Ryomen certainly wasn’t one of the ruling families who still held prestige even in today’s society. You weren’t even sure you learned about the name in school. Backtracking even further, your name most definitely did not hold the same status as his. Just what was he trying to imply?

“I don’t understand,” You met Gojo’s obsidian glasses.

He scoffed, “Of course you wouldn’t. Measures have been taken to erase any trace of the name.”

Pushing himself away from the desk, Gojo’s form gilded towards you. Large hands clasped themselves around the chair's armrests, pressing into your trapped forearms. Quickly, you turned your head away from him. A sorry attempt to keep some sort of distance between the two of you. 

“He was the so-called King of Curses. A title easily put to rest once the three clans finally joined forces that is.”

A small puff of air left your body before it started to turn into full blow laughter, “King of Curses, huh? Did you really take me here just to tell me a scary bedtime story?”

Gojo’s face remained stoic as he backed away from your giggling form, “No. I took you here to warn you.”

“Warn me of what,” you threw him an exaggerated smile, “Ghosts?”

The older man pressed his lips into a thin line, “Something much worse.”

Your eyebrow twitched, “Seriously Gojo give it a rest. I’m not falling for your stupid games.”

“This isn’t a game.”

You flinched at his cold tone. Straightening your back, you swallowed the lump in your throat, “Fine. I’ll humor you. What is it you're here to ‘warn’ me about?”

“Ryomen Sukuna,” Gojo’s face scrunched as if the name tasted revolting, “Monster, demon, curse, disgraced one. A living nightmare disguised as a Jujutsu Sorcerer.”

You mulled over the information spilling out from Gojo. 

Ryomen Sukuna. 

Jujutsu Sorcerer. 

Monster. 

Nonsensical words strung together which you’d normally roll your eyes at. However, Gojo’s tone held no amusement.

“Together the three clans of Sorcerers, Kamo, Zenin, Gojo, used their powers to end his reign of terror,” Gojo groaned dramatically, “Or so we thought.”

A sudden burst of laughter ripped through you as you tried to regain your breath, “You can’t be serious. First you kidnap me like some lunatic and now you're trying to convince me that the Boogeyman is real?! Gojo Satoru, I knew you were special but I didn’t think you were ‘special’ special.”

You flinched harshly when a massive hand snatched the back of your head, threading itself through your hair. Forcing your head up, Gojo’s darkened eyes met your own. You swallowed harshly. The faint pang of pain pulsated in your scalp.

“(y/n).”

You shuddered as your name rolled off his tongue. Grasping your hair tighter, Gojo bent down to your ear, “I’ll only say this once. Pay. Attention.”

You nodded slowly, allowing Gojo’s hand to tug slightly with every bob of your head.

A small smirk pulled the edges of Gojo’s mouth up, “Good Girl.” 

Releasing his hold, Gojo backed away slightly, “The last name (l/n) was almost always present when accounts of Ryomen were written. Whether it was servants, slaves, subordinates, concubines, or… berserkers.”

You chewed on your lip, “I still don’t understand what this has to do with me.”

“You will soon,” Gojo pulled a picture from his coat pocket and dangled it in front of you, “Very soon.”

Squinting your eyes, you scanned the poorly captured image. From what you could tell it was a picture of a man entering a limo. His face was hidden by the door, but you could see his gigantic form stepping into the expensive vehicle. 

You raised a brow, “I should be scared of a limo?”

“You should be scared of the man getting into the limo.”

“You can’t even see his face-”

Gojo placed a hand over your mouth and shook a finger, “That’s because his identity is confidential.”

It was hard to place the extreme confusion and anger surging through your body at the moment. You were expected to fear a man who you weren't even allowed to see? You internally face-palmed. Make it make sense.

Sensing your puzzled thoughts, Gojo huffed and removed his hand, “Your family used to serve a malevolent self-made God in the Heian period. Said God was assumed to be dead but the old bastards never fully finished the job.”

He tapped the picture in front of you again, “We found an ancestor.”

Realization crept up your spine, “So what you're saying is that the evil spirit God thingy back in the day was killed but not his children?”

“Bingo.”

“And you think because I'm supposably from a family who has served him for generations I'm going to turn evil?”

“Bingoish.”

You tried to find words only to fail. The whole situation was completely absurd. 

“Bingoish? What do you mean?”

You let out a choked breath when Gojo suddenly plopped himself onto your lap. Making himself at home on your newly taken aback form, he sighed dramatically. 

“Your temper is a tell-tale sign of what you actually are,” Gojo wrapped his arms around your neck and swung his feet passively, “You’ve got berserker blood in you.”

Gojo booped your nose, “A true soldier of evil.”

“GET THE HELL OFF ME, FREAK!”

Laughing off your boiling rage, Gojo stayed put, “Berserkers are men and, in extremely rare cases, women who are dormant jujutsu sorcerers. Their bodies contain exceedingly high levels of cursed energy.”

Your brain swam as you tried to understand Gojo’s gibberish. What the hell was he talking about?

“These individuals were so high in curse energy that the murderous tendencies of curses took over them,” Gojo pressed a finger into your chest, “Hence the name berserkers. Highly skilled, angry, vicious, and reckless soldiers who served the King of Curses at his peak.”

Gojo looked at you, “Case in point, they had incredibly intense angry issues.”

You clenched your jaw at his insinuation.  

“Don’t worry too much though,” Gojo patted your head, “These murderous tendencies could only be unsealed with a single flower, Wisteria. You're not going around eating random flowers, are you?”

You deadpanned, “Obviously not.”

Gojo shrugged, “Could've fooled me.”

Growling, you thrashed in your chair. Gojo gripped your neck tighter in an attempt to stay aboard the y/n express. 

“That's it, get off, Gojo! I have had enough with your stupid fairytales!” 

Gojo grunted when you managed to shake his body off you. Pouting, he placed a hand on his forehead, “I can’t believe you could do this to your own teacher!”

“I can’t believe you'd do this to your own student!” 

You let out a ragged breath, “Gojo I hope you realize how absolutely insane this all sounds. Jujutsu Sorcerers? Gods? Curses? Give me a break. Do you really think some ancient God’s ancestor is currently tracking me down in order to turn me into one of his super soldiers? To what? Reclaim his throne?”

“Yes.”

Mouth agape, you tried to conjure up some sort of reply before giving up. This was insane. Gojo was insane.

“Ryomen’s ancestor’s primary base is in Shibuya. The moment anyone in that city figures out what your last name is you're done for,” Gojo stood up from the floor, “(y/n), I understand this is hard to believe but trust me. You can not go into that city.”

Gojo placed a hand on top of your own, rubbing small circles into your skin with a pad of his thumb, “Okay?”

You exhaled, “Okay.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Soft chirps woke you up from your seemingly endless slumber. You groaned loudly and flipped over. Expecting to see a sleeping Sukuna, you were shocked to find his side of the bed empty. 

Running a hand over his emptied spot, you frowned slightly at the coldness. He had been gone for a while now. 

Sitting up, you rubbed your face with your palms. A slight sting in your brain made you wince. You had a killer headache. Jesus, how much did you drink? You could barely remember waking up in the middle of the night.

Peaking over at Sukuna’s side again, you bit your lip in frustration. He left you alone… again. Your heart throbbed for a second. Only a second, before you realized what you were doing.

Slapping your cheeks, you pulled yourself to your feet and threw on your discarded clothes. If he could act nonchalantly, so could you. In fact, you'd leave without saying anything and pretend it never happened.

Searching high and low for your phone, you smiled brightly when you found it sitting on Sukuna’s kitchen counter. 

Battery: 23%

Notifications: 0

Time: 10:04am

You sighed gratefully. You had more than enough time to make it to class. Slipping on your shoes, you flinched when the door handle jingled. Fuck. You should have been faster. 

Sukuna’s tatted form stepped through the door holding a small paper bag of groceries. His brows raised at your crouched form, “You're still here?”

You tried not to cringe too much at his harsh words. God Dammit, you really should have been faster.

Standing up, you rubbed your knuckles. “I just woke up. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes before setting down his paper bag, “Sure.”

You clenched your teeth at his openly accusatory comment, “I'm about to go talk with the front desk about my power,” Venom laced your voice, “Wouldn't want to bother my neighbor anymore.”

“No need, I already did.”

You blinked at the larger man. He had his back to you now as he started putting away various items. You noted it was a lot of food for just one person. Although you chalked it up to his greedy nature.

“Why?”

Sukuna scoffed as if it was obvious, “Your lazy ass wouldn't get up. No matter how hard I shook you.”

You cleared your throat, “Thank you. But you really didn't need to.”

Sukuna only grunted in response, paying no attention to you. Growing awkward at the silent treatment you scratched your head, “Well, see you around.”

“Are you going back?”

You halted at Sukuna’s voice, “Ya, I've got somewhere I need to be later on.”

Sukuna hummed, “See you tonight.”

You nodded your head in confusion, “See you.”

You exited Sukuna’s apartment with a bewildered expression. 

See you tonight.

Was he possessed? Did Yuuji suddenly grow a foot and take his brother's place? Why the hell was he being so nice??

You paused your thoughts. ‘Nice’ as in actually treating you like another human for once.

Shaking away cluttered thoughts, you were quick to rush to the shower. Unfortunately, the color of your face drained when you realized the water wasn't working. You could punch a hole through the wall. 

Rushing to your room, you piled on deodorant and prayed mint gum would hide the scent of day old wine on your breath. You'd have to talk with the front desk. Damn it, you should've just gone instead of Sukuna. What the hell was his problem?

The drive to your anger management classes went a lot better than the start of your morning. It was quick, easy, and predictable. You assumed it was because you finally managed to beat lunch hour traffic. 

You felt even better when you realized you were the first person to arrive at the meeting. Even Nanami looked shocked at your sudden appearance.

“Morning, Mr. Kento!” You wildly waved your hand at the blond man.

Nanami shook his head at your antics, “Good morning, Miss (l/n).”

You felt light as a feather as the lesson carried on. Actively participating, answering questions, hell you even threw in a story or two. You weren't the only one pleased with your sudden change in demeanor. You could swear you saw the faintest smile on Nanami’s stoic face.

As all good things do, eventually the lesson comes to a close leaving you alone with Nanami. You smiled at his taller form as he made his way over to you. 

“Pretty impressive stuff, huh?”

Nanami rolled his eyes and patted your back, “Thank you, (y/n). Keep it up.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep your smile from growing any bigger, “No overtime today?”

“No overtime today,” Nanami paused, “For you at least. Unless you're offering to help?”

You held your hands up, “Actually-” 

“Perfect. I have midterms to grade and I've been needing help.”

You cried internally as Nanami led you away from the door and into his office. 

This guy-

--------------------------------------------------------------

You felt utterly drained as you finally made it back to your apartment complex. Nanami had kept you at his office for God knows how long. All you knew is if you ever saw another essay about psychology again you might actually lose it… again.  

Banging your head on the side of the elevator, you groaned when you heard a familiar ding. The doors opened slowly revealing a waiting Sukuna. You stared at his form in surprise.

“Are you just going to stand in there or get out, rat?”

Sukuna’s words pulled you from your shock as you glared at his from, “You don’t own the fucking elevator.”

Sukuna’s smirk turned downward as he shoved inside the small metal box with you. You grunted when his shoulder slammed into your own. Catching your fall, you flipped him off.

“Real classy, Pinkie Pie,” Stepping out of the elevator, you hesitated when Sukuna called your name.

“Don’t wear that outfit again. You're prettier than that.”

The metal doors closed on your jaw-dropped expression. 

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” You threw your bag violently at the doors.

Loud cackling slowly disappeared as the elevator descended. You yelled out to no one in particular as you clutched your hair. As tempting as it was to rip out your own hair, you decided against the bald look. You were sure Sukuna would have a field day with a bald (y/n). 

Storming to your apartment door, you reached for your key angrily. All you wanted to do was take a hot shower and sleep. Though you were quickly reminded of your lack of water by a large pink slip plastered onto your door.

NOTICE! APARTMENT CLOSED DUE TO WATER PIPE BURST. PLEASE CONTACT FRONT DESK FOR MORE INFORMATION.

You had to be fucking kidding.

Slipping your key into the door, you twisted the key wildly. The door remained stagnant as the key rattled inside the door knob. You growled in frustration as you shoved your key in harder. A sickening snap almost made you see red.

Your key broke off in your door. Your door which apparently had its lock changed.

Slamming your fists against the white wood, you swore obscenities you weren't even sure were real words. The door creaked pitifully as you tried to force your way in. 

Finally stopping your assault on your door, you placed your forehead against the wood. Ragged breath escaped your mouth in random patterns as you slowly tried to calm yourself. 

What the hell were you going to do? All your shit was in there. Could they even do this? You'd have to ask Nanami about a possible lawsuit.

Spinning on your heel, you slid down the wood and hid your face in your knees. How could this day get any worse.

“What are you doing?”

Oh right, it can.

Lifting your head from your legs, you glared at Sukuna. He stood above your small frame with an apathetic expression as he held a newly acquired take-out bag.  

You pointed to your door with your thumb, “Don’t you know how to read?”

Sukuna hummed and snatched the pink slip off your door. A dark laughter erupted from his throat at the italicized print.

“Pipe burst, huh?” Sukuna rubbed his chin, “What did you shit too much or something?”

You watched Sukuna from below. His words seemed more to himself than to you.

“No, fuckhead.”

Dragging yourself up from the floor, you rubbed your back, “They didn't send me any notice or warning. This has to be illegal!”

Sukuna shoved the pink slip into your chest, “Illegal or not you're shit out of luck.” His eyes glanced behind you before he whistled, “Even broke your key. That's coming out of your deposit.”

You cluthced the pink slip and crumpled it, “This isn’t a fucking joke.”

Sukuna scoffed, “Figure that out all by yourself, rat?”

Your hand clenched into a first involuntarily. It would be so easy to hurt him right now. Make him feel how you feel. Sukuna watched your form with mild amusement, clearly interested in your next move.

Out of the blue, Nanami’s face flashed behind your eyes. You stopped yourself. You promised Nanami you were better than this. Unclenching your fist you sighed, “Forget it.”

You noted how Sukuna’s face dropped. His expression held an underlying disappointment. Did he want you to hit him again?

Sukuna mumbled under his breath, “I guess you're still not ready yet.”

You raised an eyebrow, “What?”

Sukuna shook his head, “Nothing. Come on.”

He waved a hand to follow him to his apartment. 

“Where are we going?”

Sukuna gave you a look, “You're more than welcome to sleep in the hallway.”

You rolled your eyes and followed after his retreating form, ���Thank you kindly, neighbor.”

What the hell was this? Five Nights At Sukuna’s?

｡･:*˚:✧⤷

--------------------------------------------------------------

[nutterbuttermother]

YN: blink if you love me

Sukuna:

YN:

Sukuna: stop blowing in my face

YN: BLINK DAMMIT

[mackjlee9]

Sub!Sukuna (true form.. if you wish :D)

v, k, a and b

N$FW Alphabet Mini Event

(1/10)

Sub!Ryoumen Sukuna x Top!Male!Reader

V= Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

Okay, so... Sukuna isn't the loudest guy ever but, there are a few times when he's in subspace where he just doesn't care how loud or vocal he's being.

His mind goes fuzzy and his body tingles everywhere you're touching him, and he only cares about how good you're making him feel, and only then he's loud.

Mostly whines and mewls at the stimulation, his voice getting high-pitched when he's about to cum, making sure to moan your name for everyone to hear.

He just doesn't care, honestly, the possibility of someone hearing him only riles him up more.

K= Kinks (one or more of their kinks)

Sub Sukuna is an odd sight, and with it comes kinks you tend to forget he has.

With how big he is in his true form, and how small you look in comparison to him, he grew to quite like some powerplay and being forced into submission.

He enjoys being called degrading names, humiliated, and feminized. He's a sadist and a masochist, so impact play is a must when having sex, and that fact that he can cum only from having his dick slapped is- ugh, fucking sublime.

A= Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

He lays on the bed, chest, and abdomen covered with his cum, body glistening with sweat, and he's constantly whining while you clean him up, mostly because bed still getting down from his high and his body is extremely sensitive, but he lets you clean his body and change the sheets, but he can't stand up and even has trouble sitting on the edge of the bed, so he groans at you to hurry up.

After you're done and you're both cleaned up, and at least wearing underwear, he drops his whole body weight on top of you, and you just chuckle, gently playing with his hair, and watching as he falls asleep.

B= Body Part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

Well, he definitely likes both his mouths, especially because he can kiss you and blow you while he does it, his body quivering under you when you fuck his mouth without breaking the kiss, moaning and groaning into his mouth while his mind goes numb from the feeling of his having his mouth fucked and because of the lack of air.

There's not a thing he doesn't like about you, but he loves the way you're able to keep his body pinned down to the bed, bent over, or pressed against the wall. Your strength, your arms, and your hands are what drive him crazy. You're just a mere human, a sorcerer, and he could get rid of you in a moment if he so desired, but he like the thought of having you as his sex toy~

[seniaasaysstuff]

tiktok trends with sukuna. sukuna x reader (reposting cause tumblr keeps glitching)

You were on your phone watching TikTok and saw one of the trends, handing the phone to your boyfriend and hugging him.

You really wanted to do it with your boyfriend sukuna. “Kuna!” You yelled out.

“What’d ya want brat?” Sukuna grumbled as he walked inside the living room. You ran up to him and handed him the phone. “Watch this. What do you think?” You looked at him eagerly and waited for him to say something.

“Why are you looking at other guys?” He narrowed his eyes on you. “And why show me such a pointless thing.”

“Shut up, I wanna do this with you.” You mumbled. “Okay, so I’m going to start recording then I will hand you the phone.” You bossily demanded.

Sukuna sighed but obviously had to give in, he couldn’t just ignore his girl now could he?

You held your phone in front of you and hit the record button. Sukuna looked pretty stoic as he stood behind you.

You raised the phone and sukuna gently took it in his hands. You turned around and latched onto him like a koala.

He chuckled and left a kiss on your forehead. “I love you brat.” He huffed. “Obviously I love me too.” You rolled your eyes.

Sukuna smirked, “You are going to be like this huh?” You had a look of horror in your eyes as he threw you over his shoulder like a rag doll and carried you into your room.

He threw you on the bed and laid on top of you. He attacked you with kisses all over your face which made you giggle.

You felt his breath tickling your ear making you shiver. Your lashes fluttered as he leaned over to kiss you. It was a light kiss that left you wanting more.

He pulled away from you and was about to get up from the bed when you grabbed his chin roughly and pulled him into a kiss.

One of your hands was in his hair slightly tugging on it. “You don’t get to walk away from me you bastard.” You said as you broke away from the kiss.

[hydran6ea]

pairings: sukuna x f!reader

genres/warnings: smut, sukuna's your former professor

you, a stripper who only ever dances with a mask on. pretty fucking eyes looking at sukuna enticingly while grinding and swinging on that pole without breaking eye contact.

you, who, for the first time, was convinced by your boss to sleep with a customer after offering to pay a huge amount, enough for you to get by for two whole months. you agreed with the condition that you keep your mask.

you, who was fucked roughly from behind by sukuna on the first night, the thick head of his perfect cock ramming your cervix like that was the last time you two are gonna fuck.

you, who actually know sukuna personally for he was one of your university professors.

sukuna, who immediately recognized you the moment your eyes meet.

sukuna, who wanted to fuck you ever since the first time he laid his eyes on you.

sukuna, who was saddened by the news that you dropped out because of money issues.

sukuna, who was delighted to see you again after almost a year of fantasizing about how tight your cunt would squeeze his cock.

sukuna, who fucked you from behind so you wouldn't see the look in his eyes. the same look he'd been giving you for the whole semester.

sukuna, who was afraid for you to know that he knows it's you. so, he only paid a visit once a week.

you and sukuna, who couldn't get enough of each other. once a week became twice a week.

you and sukuna, who were fucking on the wall, his rough thrust so hard that when you bounce on his hard cock, your mask fell off.

you and sukuna, who instead of stopping to talk about it, just kissed each other hard, so lost in the pleasure, tongues delving into each other's mouth, relieved that it's finally out in the open.

you and sukuna, who both know that you'll have to talk about it in the morning and everything would be okay. right?