#ryomen fluff

[rosy-hollow]

｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ╰┈➤ @lillycore ⦂ Hey! Can I request something else with Sukuna? Maybe collage au , where Sukuna is in college for engineering, but reader doesn’t go to university and instead focuses on being a freelance artist , but sometimes she sneaks into some of Sukuna’s courses with him? 》 ✐ᝰ YIPPEE MORE SUKUNA!! (sorry i cut out all the parenthesis for space purposes 😭) ｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ

No one’s really sure when you started showing up to Sukuna’s engineering lectures.

As far as most people were concerned, you’d always been there—like you materialized out of thin air and effortlessly became part of the atmosphere.

But honestly, no one minded.

You arrived alongside your pink-haired boyfriend, and the two of you had an interesting dynamic. The two of you being highschool sweethearts, he had mellowed out over the years - most likely because of you. However, you working as a freelance artist gave you both endless time... and absolutely none at all.

While Sukuna was out at university, you’d spend hours sitting in your apartment, sketching on your tablet—a gift from him, of course. You loved it. But, no matter how much you adored your work, being alone in your apartment without quickly grew... depressing.

So, one day, wordlessly, Sukuna dragged you to one of his lectures. Without asking, he pulled out the chair beside him, muttering under his breath that you should “Behave.”

You shrugged, popped in one earbud, and settled in, drawing quietly next to him. Sukuna listened to the lecture and took notes diligently; you? You lost yourself in your art.

It didn’t take long for the professor to notice a new face in his class, though it took even longer for him to realize you were, in fact, not a student. It was when Sukuna casually asked a question about compression ratios that the professor caught sight of you humming softly, your stylus moving fluidly on your tablet.

The professor didn’t know what to do with you. But, honestly, you weren’t a distraction, so he decided it wasn’t a huge deal.

And that was how you became the honorary student in Sukuna’s Solid Mechanics class — despite not having the faintest idea what half of it meant.

It didn’t make you stupid, though.

“And so you see, as per this graph—”

Your hand shot up, and the professor paused, glancing over at you in mild surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to speak up.

“Yes?” he addressed you calmly.

You frowned a little, twirling your stylus between your fingers. “I think there’s a part of the graph missing in the key... the green squiggly bit? It’s kind of vague about what the graph’s actually trying to show... If I’m out of place, just let me know, but would something like this be better?”

You held up your tablet, showing your version of the graph—redrawn in a clearer, more digestible way.

The professor blinked, clearly taken aback as he read over the graph. He let out a short, impressed huff. “This is quite impressive—did you draw this yourself?”

You nodded sheepishly, and the professor’s expression softened, a genuine smile crossing his face. He tapped Sukuna’s notebook, already prepared to speak to him.

“You get this sent to me, yeah? And Sukuna—” He glanced over at your boyfriend, who was now watching you with that familiar pride in his eyes. “You found yourself a good one.”

Sukuna met your gaze, his lips curling into a small but proud smirk as he leaned in to kiss your temple.

“That’s m’girl.”

A/N: is it obvious i know next to nothing about engineering

[frenchcoucou]

modern day sukuna

ac: _jvtll

[paranoiddreams]

prev⟺next

Another odd thing about being Ryomen Sukuna’s girlfriend? His tendency to…stalk you. And not even in a purposeful way; he himself doesn’t even realize it.

Often while you’re both out together, he feels the need to always have a hand on you—whether it be on your waist, your lower back, or even encasing your own in his; he will always be touching you. But when he can’t, he looks like an actual Joe Goldberg ass stalker.

Going to get something on the other side of the store? He’s following a few feet behind you, dodging your gaze when you look over your shoulder. Want to get your nails done with some friends? Okay. Sukuna’s just gonna wait outside in his car, looking through the windows of the salon.

He mainly does this in public because he knows you like to feel a sense of independence every now and then. Also, so you don’t get hurt since he knows what kind of men are out there everywhere.

Let’s be honest, he was one of those men before he met you.

But when you’re both at home, it’s a bit of a different story:

You could be walking around the house, minding your own business, and then you suddenly just see the huge monster of a man your boyfriend is, looking at you from around a corner. Most often although, he’ll just walk up behind you and stare at you ominously for no reason.

Sometimes, you start to think he’s mad at you. His red eyes look a shade darker, and his chest rises rapidly, almost as if he were a predator stalking its prey.

But in reality, he’s thinking of all kinds of things in his head as he observes you. And this man thinks he’s being slick about it too…he hasn’t even considered the fact that this behavior could put you off at times. Because how is he supposed to just not look at you when you’re free for him to look at 24/7? Dirty thoughts, random thoughts, domestic thoughts, even thoughts of being the father to your children run his mind; all while he just stares you down like his next meal.

“Uh…Kuna? You good?”

He just grumbles, not even bothering to give a verbal explanation. Why would he? He does everything he wants to anyways.

Well, except for when it comes to you; you could walk him like a dog, even if he’s almost two times your height and weight. But that’s a topic for another time.

[kamiversee]

Big ruby shaded eyes, matching that of her father’s, have this adorable thin layer of gloss over them as she pleads with her parent for the millionth time.

“Daddy pwease?” She has the cutest little pout on her face, one that’s worked on her mother time and time again that’s sure to work on her father too—

“No.” Sukuna says yet again.

The child is tired of asking and receiving that same answer over and over. She doesn’t understand one bit why but she hates hearing that word. Folding her arms, she lets out an annoyed puff, “Mommy would never tell me no…”

One statement and there’s already another vein bulging in the right corner of Sukuna Ryomen’s forehead. “Go away, brat.” He breathes out in an overly irritated tone.

The child, unable to take no for an answer and more like her father than she even realizes, takes her foot and brings it down on the curse’s foot in frustration.

If he wasn’t ticked off before, he damn sure is now. “You little—“

“Sukuna,” And there it is, the voice of the sole human in this reality who could ever even dream of cutting the king of curses off mid-sentence. Not only is it you, the mother of his overly insolent child, but you have the nerve to give him that scolding tone he hates (loves).

He scowls for a long moment before looking down to the smaller human who carries more of your features than his. “Fine, child.” Sukuna drawls out after a long roll of his many eyes.

Then, with a big smile plastered all over her small face, her hands are shooting up and she’s making a grab motion with her hands.

Sukuna stares down at her and sighs, “You really are a spoiled brat, y’know…” He grumps while leaning down to pick his daughter up with one out of his two pairs of hands. “…Just like your damn mother.”

The child’s smile fades for a moment and she tilts her head, “Damn?” She repeats in a confused tone, making Sukuna’s heart spike.

“Wait-, don’t… don’t say that.” He’s been down this road one two many times—having taught the child how to say ‘fuck’ the moment she began spewing words. He received an earful from you that he didn’t care for so, here he is now, “That’s a bad word.”

His daughter blinks, “But, Daddy said it.”

Sukuna groans lowly in irritation, “Daddy can say whatever the hell he wants.”

“Hell?” Oh she had to be doing this on purpose, knowing her mother was only a room away.

“Child.” The curse scolds, “Are you trying to irritate me?”

She shrugs playfully, “This is what you get for telling me no.”

“You asked me if you could draw on my face.” He deadpans.

“And you should’ve said yes,” You suddenly chime in, entering the room, “Instead of teaching her more curse words.”

The little girl snickers in Sukuna’s arms and he swears he has an image of the child being flung across the room for just a moment. That image is interrupted by the girl speaking again.

“Like fuck?” She says loud and clear. “I heard Daddy say it again earlier today—“

A big hand goes over her mouth (practically her entire face) and she’s cut off by her father who’s innocently smiling at you, his darling wife.

“Ignore her. I was just about to let her draw on my face so,” He glances down at his daughter who’s giggling victoriously beneath his palm and then sighs, “If you’ll excuse us.”

You’re left smiling at the two as Sukuna turns away with his daughter and exits the room—the sound of them bickering as soon as they’re out of sight heard moments later.

And the next time you lay eyes on the two, Sukuna’s got a face full of stickers and marker and his little mini-me has a mocking face full of her father’s markings. To which you just had to take a million and one pictures of.

[rieamena]

"mama!"

your seven year old daughter climbed onto your bed, bouncing on the mattress before settling into your warm embrace under the blankets. running a hand through her pink hair, you answered softly, "yes, sweetheart?"

it was almost like your genes didn't put up a fight at all. your child, chikara, was the spitting image of her father, your husband, ryomen sukuna. same hair, same face shape, same facial features, the only thing that seemed to be your contribution was her personality, and even then, sometimes you'll see your husband's characteristic scowl on her little face

"how did you and daddy meet?" "well, it was–"

"what's goin' on in here? conspiring against me?" sukuna's voice filled the room as he leaned against the door frame, a cheeky smirk on his face. you saw your daughter's face brighten up as she jumped down to run to her father, "daddy! daddy! mommy's gonna tell the story of when you first met!" sukuna immediately looked at you, his index finger barely being fully wrapped by his daughter's hand

"she asked me to. guess watching all those romantic dramas with her rubbed off on her." you giggled, earning a scowl from him. "shut it woman. you know i hate them." "yeah..., that's definitely why we watch 90 day fiance every sunday together." "you got a problem with— stop tryna move me brat!"

"but daddyyyyy," she whined, still pushing against sukuna's body, "i don't wanna miss mommy's story!" "we're literally seven feet away from her."

your daughter pouted and stopped trying to get her dad to move. letting go of his finger, and leaving him at the doorway, chikara plopped herself down at your side with wide, eager eyes, "go on, mommy, tell me! i wanna know everything."

you smiled, looking at sukuna, who rolled his eyes but gave a small nod. "alright, sweetheart. it all started one day in the park when i was watching over megumi, and your dad was taking care of his younger brother, yuuji…"

"yuuji?" chikara interrupted, her face lighting up. "uncle yuuji was there too?"

"yep, yuuji was just a little kid back then," you said with a soft laugh. "he was running around, being his usual energetic self, when he tripped and scraped his knee. your dad, being the great caretaker he is—"

"—i was plenty good at it," sukuna muttered

you shot him a look and continued, "—didn't seem too worried. he told yuuji to stop crying."

"i did not say it like that," sukuna cut in, pushing off the doorframe and coming closer to the bed. "i told him to toughen up. gotta learn how to handle a few scrapes."

your daughter giggled, clearly entertained by the back-and-forth. "but mommy's a nurse, so she went over to help, right?"

"exactly. i couldn't just sit there watching, so i went over, knelt down, and started cleaning yuuji's knee. and i told your father—" you paused, giving sukuna a mischievous smile, "—that he should care more about his son instead of telling him to stop crying."

your daughter gasped dramatically, eyes wide with anticipation. sukuna groaned, running a hand over his face. "i knew you'd bring that up."

"and what did daddy say?" she asked, leaning in as if she could hardly wait

"he looked at me and said, 'that's not my son, that's my brother,'" you mimicked sukuna’s low, irritated tone. "i was so embarrassed!" sukuna chuckled at the memory, shaking his head. "you should've seen your mom’s face. all high and mighty, like she was about to call child protection services on me or something."

you couldn't help but laugh, too. "anyway, i patched yuuji up, and to make up for the misunderstanding, your dad suggested we set up a playdate for yuuji and megumi."

"a playdate?"

"yup," you nodded. "though i think your dad might've had other reasons for giving me his number." sukuna scoffed, folding his arms. "that didn’t happen."

you raised an eyebrow at him. "oh? so your eyes didn’t sparkle when i smiled and told you goodbye?" sukuna groaned again, this time louder. "my eyes did not do that."

chikara giggled harder, clearly enjoying the banter. "i think daddy liked you right away!" you smiled softly. "maybe he did. i mean, why else would he take me to a skate park for our first date?" sukuna rolled his eyes. "you said you wanted to learn how to skate. i was just being nice."

"uh-huh. sure," you teased. "and he was so good at it, zooming around, showing off. i'll admit..., he did look kinda cool! i, on the other hand, spent most of the time falling."

"which is why i had to keep catching you," sukuna added, sliding into the empty space next to you on the bed. "mommy fell? did daddy save you?" chikara asked, her face lighting up at the idea

sukuna ruffled her pink hair. "more like i had to stop her from breaking every bone in her body." you rolled your eyes at him. "i wasn't that bad."

"yes, you were," sukuna said, smirking. "you almost took me down with you half the time." smiling at the memory, you leaned in to kiss your daughter's forehead. "but it was fun. and after that, we went out for ice cream, and your dad actually smiled for real that time."

"daddy smiled? really?"

sukuna shot you a half-hearted glare. "i smile."

"not back then you didn't," you teased, poking his arm. chikara turned to her dad, beaming. "i wanna learn to skate, too, just like you and mommy!" sukuna chuckled, wrapping an arm around her

"maybe one day, brat. but you’re probably gonna fall as much as your mom did."

"hey!"

gulp... sorry if sukuna is ooc, im tired and im on my period but i really liked this request so...

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @discipleofthem

@cheesecake95 @strawberry-cherrypie @makeshiftproject @magiamad0ka @ncitygreen

@stillnotherapy @oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath

@atigerandabear @russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @ourfinalisation

@1ndee @yourhornysister @ancientimes @cupcaketeddybehr @tomikixd

@e-dollly

[solrabi]

Mechanic Sukuna purposely lies about your car so he can see you again.

Notes: not proofread, fem!reader

main masterlist

Sweaty, grimy, and greasy. Three adjectives you’d use to describe the local repair shop. It was always filled with muscled men who always seemed to have a permanent scowl on their face, intimidating anyone who wanted help with their vehicle.

Which is why you always sent your (only) male friend there to order any kind of complicated repair work on your behalf. As a woman, you did not want to be subject to all the scrutinizing stares and intentionally inflated prices for services that would otherwise be cheap or free of charge.

Your car was your baby. A haven if you will. It was much better to take naps in there rather than sit and do homework in the library during the long gaps in your class schedule. It was the best to use in the late months of spring, with the AC blowing right in your face as you dreamt about sleeping on an iceberg.

But alas, it also had to break down when the heat was at its highest and your friend had gone on a trip with his partner.

You were now conditioned to go to the place you dreaded most. You got rid of all your pretty accessories stuck and dangling off of different parts of your car. You were not going to be a victim of chauvinism. Especially not by mechanics- it just hurts more with them of all people.

As expected, all eyes were on you (mainly because you were the only girl in the shop and you looked like you had seen a ghost). All the men there looked like they belonged to a gang- brutish, crass words slipping out of their mouths like it was nothing, grease all over their faces, and regular safety uniforms altered to show off their muscle tank tops.

Your eyes just shifted around the place. You weren’t even sure how the system worked. Were you supposed to walk over to them or did they just come to you? Did you have to get an appointment before arriving like it was a doctors office or-

“I recognize that dump.”

You turned to see who in their right mind had to say that about your ass. You hadn’t been hit on a lot in your life, but you knew how to differentiate between flattery and sexual harassment. The other men were quick to go back to their tasks, not wanting to watch your reaction.

“Excuse me?” You squeaked out with as much anger in your voice as possible (you were more like a yipping Pomeranian).

The pink haired man in front of you looked like the definition of bad news. Stark black tattoos against his pale skin, burn and cut scars all over his arms, and his pink hair was pulled back by a black bandana. With the way him and the other men looked, it seemed like all mechanics had to do a course in ‘Intimidation 101: how to look like a convict.’

“Talkin’ ‘bout your car, sweetheart. Some guy is always comin’ in here with that thing.”

Sweetheart. Passive aggressive prick

“Oh, I’m sorry. That guy’s my friend. This is actually my car and the AC is just not working properly. I think it’s broken.”

You watched as he walked over to your car and examined the interior. “Flaps are fine. I think we might have to open it up and take a good look inside. Might even have to replace the thing.”

He noticed your shifty gaze, probably worried about how much you were going to have to pay for the whole thing. Adorable.

“I know a guy who gives discounts for it. You a college student?” His unnaturally handsome face looks concerned for you. You weren’t expecting it but you welcomed it. With caution of course. You nodded meekly while looking at him. Maybe mechanics weren’t scammy towards women after all.

He clapped his hands and grinned, sharp canines visible in all their glory. The man looked like the human version of a tiger. “Then it’s basically free. Don’t worry about the cost. You can leave your car here. Want me to call an uber for ya?”

He noticed the not-so-discreet glances from his coworkers but kept his eyes trained on your wimpish face.

“I’m alright. Um, thank you. Do I have to leave my number or do you guys have that on file?”

“We do have a number but I’m guessing that belongs to your friend cause he’s always the one to come here and pick your car up after service.”

“You’re right. I think I might have to give mine.”

As stupid as it sounds, he wanted to do a cartwheel, it’s like everything was falling into place. Cute girl with car problems, no boyfriend (as far as he knows), and he gets her number.

He was going to get a celebratory beer after work.

His colleagues could see the pep in his step but didn’t bother to say anything knowing that you were still there- even if you looked like your mind wasn’t present.

He returned with a clipboard and bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from scaring you with his beaming smile.

“I’m Sukuna by the way.” He smirked as he noticed the deep blush on your cheeks. You stammered out your name to him and he swore that he could almost envision it on an elegant white card a few years from now.

“See you soon,” he said before walking away with a new air of confidence around his gait.

After you left, his friend, Toji, abandoned the car he was working on to follow Sukuna to the office. “There’s no way in hell you know someone who can install a new AC for free. I paid hundreds to fix mine.” Sukuna didn’t even look at his friend while he was talking. He just kept staring at you through the window while you were getting into your cab.

“There’s nothing wrong with her AC. She just needed to clean the filters.”

__

New serie- who said that? 👁️👄👁️

[avaredava]

Master lists

Sukuna isn't one for cuddles. Matter of the fact he hates them.

But unfortunately you love them.

So you were begging him for cuddles, at least to hold you to sleep. But the way you were clinging to him late at night, your arms wrapped around his big torso. Just made his heart completely shatter with love.

He acted like he didn't want to and let out little curses and little grunts but his two top arms wrapped around your body. And his bottom ones were squeezing your ass. Yeah he totally didn't want too. (Yeah he did)

He's holding you so tight. He thinks he's so stupidly comfortable and you know he doesn't want to move.

He's horrible at pretending because he's never fallen asleep that fast.

[connorsui]

I really like the thought of touch starved sukuna ...especially when he refuses to admit it

Sukuna isn’t helpless. Far from it. But there’s something about the way your fingers ghost over his skin that makes him play the part to almost ….perfection? It starts innocently enough, a habit born from your gentle nature and his begrudging acceptance of your presence in his space. He doesn’t ask for it, of course. Sukuna would never ask. Instead, he makes it your responsibility, leaving you to deal with the mess he’s too “tired” to handle himself.

It’s the tattoos that always draw you in first. Thick black lines etched into his skin, weaving intricate patterns over muscles that ripple beneath your touch. He’ll sprawl out on the couch or the bed, or even the floor with his face resting on his folded arms, and mumble something about his back or his shoulders just loud enough for you to hear.

At first, you don’t even realize he’s doing it on purpose. You’ve always been tactile, absentmindedly brushing your fingers over his broad shoulders as you sit beside him or tracing the ink on his arms while you think. But the more you do it, the more he seems to... expect it.

And when you don’t?

“What. are. you doing?”

The words come in that deep, cutting tone, his head turning just enough for you to see the unamused look in his crimson eyes. You roll your eyes, but your fingers return to their task, smoothing over his skin with the care he’d never admit he craves.

It’s not long before he takes full advantage of your weakness for him. He’ll knot his robe just a little too tight or feign exhaustion, draping himself across the nearest surface with a dramatic sigh.

“Fix it,” he’ll grumble, his voice muffled by the fabric of his sleeve.

“You’re more than capable of doing it yourself,” you shoot back, though you’re already reaching for him.

“Wouldn’t ask if I could.”

You huff, your fingers working at the stubborn knot while he smirks to himself, knowing exactly how easily you’ll give in. He’s spoiled, and he knows it.

The worst, though, is when he’s on the bed, lying on his stomach with his face turned to the side of his nightstand.. You’ll be sitting right beside him, minding your own business, when he shifts closer—just enough for his shoulder to bump against your leg.

It’s subtle at first, a silent request you could easily ignore. But then he makes it obvious, his fingers drumming against the mattress or his voice cutting through the silence.

“You’ve been sitting there for a while,” he’ll say, not bothering to look at you.

“And?”

“You’re neglecting your duties.”

You snort, but your hand moves anyway, brushing over his back in slow, deliberate strokes. He sighs, the sound so soft and content you almost miss it. Almost.

Sukuna’s obsession with your touch doesn’t stop there. If anything, it grows worse with time. He starts leaning into you more, his shoulder brushing yours as you sit together, or his head resting in your lap while you thread your fingers through his hair. He never asks for these things outright, he’s too proud for that. But the way he nudges closer, the way his eyes soften when you indulge him, tells you everything you need to know.

And when you tease him about it?

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he’ll scoff, though the faint flush on his cheeks betrays him.

But you know the truth. Sukuna, for all his power and pride, is hopelessly addicted to the warmth of your hands on his skin. And you? You’ve long since accepted that you’re just as hopeless when it comes to him.

[nanamincreampie]

Omgomgomg hiiiii 🥹🥹🥹🩷🩷🌷🌷🌷🌷 can I request an instance where Sukuna’s pregnant wife visits him at his job and he’s the CEO.

Context:

So like no one in the office knows what his wife looks like. He’s insanely private about his life. (Also cause he’s involved in shady stuff and doesn’t want anyone to know the identity of his wife. He meets with a lot of crooked business men on and off the clock.)

But yea the office only know he’s married because of the ring he wears.

So when his gorgeous, thick and very pregnant wife goes to the reception saying “Hi, is Ryomen busy? I’m his wife. I brought muffins for everyone I ate a couple I hope that’s okay.” in the sweetest voice with the biggest smile, the entire floor is in shock. (They know she’s not lying because of the ginormous light pink rock of a wedding ring that’s on her finger. It’s identical to his hair obvi hehe)

But like yeah! She comes to the office for the first time and all the workers just fall in love with how sweet she is. So they scramble to help her and hold her bag and offer her food from the break room and tell her how pretty she is and maybe Sukuna’s personal assistant even gets pulled away and that’s when he notices that everybody’s nearly gone and he finally finds her surrounded by everyone in the break room and maybe he takes her to his office and his mind is reeling thinking something’s wrong with the baby but it just ended up her being like “I’m sorry I know I could have called but look! The baby’s kicking!” And he falls in love with her all over again.

I think it’d be so cute 😭🩷 he seems like the type of hubby to call his wife “flower” or “petal”. Smut is totally up to you I won’t be opposed to it. But eeee!!! I thought it’d be a cute fluffy little fic

One Sukuna fic with a side of Sunshine and a Pregnant Wife coming right up!!! <3

Sukuna x Black pregnant reader

The bustling office of Sukuna Enterprises was alive with its usual energy phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and hushed conversations about deadlines. Ryomen Sukuna, the enigmatic and ruthlessly efficient CEO, was in the middle of one of his intense back-to-back meetings. His presence cast a long shadow over the entire floor. Everyone knew to tread carefully; Sukuna tolerated no mistakes.

The only personal detail anyone knew about him was that he was married, courtesy of the massive, rose-pink diamond ring he wore on his left hand. But beyond that? Nothing. Sukuna was intensely private, and no one had dared to ask for more. Speculation abounded, but without any concrete details, his wife remained a mystery.

Until today.

The receptionist was the first to spot her: a stunning woman in a flowing maternity dress that hugged her very pregnant belly. Her curls framed her glowing face, and she carried a basket of muffins in one hand and a slightly overstuffed purse in the other.

“Hi there!” she greeted with a bright smile, her voice warm and melodic. “Is Mr. Sukuna in? I’d like to see him, please.”

The receptionist blinked, momentarily thrown off by the casual tone. "Do you have an appointment?" she asked, her professional instincts kicking in.

“Oh, no, no appointment,” the woman replied with a light laugh. “But I’m sure he won’t mind.”

The receptionist hesitated. No one—no one—saw Sukuna without an appointment. “And you are?”

“Oh, just a friend,” the woman said coyly, her warm smile never faltering. “I brought muffins for everyone, too! I… might have eaten a couple on the way. They smelled so good.”

Her charm was effortless, but the receptionist wasn’t entirely convinced. As she considered what to do, a curious junior associate walked past and froze at the sight of the woman. His gaze flicked between her and the receptionist.

“Who’s she?” he whispered, not quite quietly enough.

“I don’t know,” the receptionist whispered back.

Within minutes, whispers began to spread. A stunning, heavily pregnant woman had walked into Sukuna Enterprises asking for their untouchable boss. No one knew who she was, but the expensive jewelry on her hand, especially the light pink diamond, caught more than a few eyes. The resemblance to Sukuna’s wedding ring sparked theories.

Could it be… her?

The whispers grew louder as more employees found excuses to pass by the reception area, stealing glances at the mysterious woman.

Despite the growing attention, she remained perfectly at ease. When someone offered to carry her purse, she laughed softly and accepted, the basket of muffins still in her other hand.

“Oh, thank you so much! It’s a bit heavier than I thought,” she said, her tone dripping with gratitude.

Soon, the break room became her destination. Chairs were pulled out for her, snacks and drinks were offered, and she was surrounded by employees eager to accommodate her. Her gentle laughter filled the space as she chatted with everyone, thanking them for their kindness and answering their curious but polite questions in a way that revealed little.

Meanwhile, in his corner office, Sukuna noticed something strange. The usual buzz of activity on the floor had dwindled to near silence. His crimson eyes narrowed. Something was off.

Stepping out of his office, Sukuna’s gaze swept over the nearly deserted floor. His jaw tightened. “What the hell is going on?” he muttered under his breath, following the faint sound of laughter.

When he reached the break room, the scene before him made his steps falter.

Her.

His wife.

The woman no one in his office had ever seen, the woman he kept carefully hidden from the chaos of his professional life, sat there, glowing with happiness, her round belly resting comfortably as she laughed with his staff.

“What is going on here?” Sukuna’s deep, commanding voice sliced through the air.

The room went silent instantly. Employees scrambled to make space for him, their faces pale as they realized they’d been caught slacking.

Her head turned, and her smile brightened at the sight of him.

“Ryo!” she said warmly, completely unfazed by his intimidating presence. She gestured for him to come closer. “Come here!”

He crossed the room in two long strides, his crimson eyes scanning her from head to toe. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice quieter but edged with concern. “Is something wrong?”

Her expression softened as she reached for his hand and placed it on her belly. “Nope! I just missed you. And look the baby’s kicking!”

For a moment, Sukuna’s icy demeanor cracked. His sharp features softened as he felt the gentle thump beneath his palm.

“You could’ve called, Petal,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something uncharacteristically tender.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but then his sharp gaze flicked to the stunned employees still lingering near the door. “Get back to work. Now.”

They scattered like leaves in the wind, murmuring apologies as they fled the room.

Turning back to his wife, Sukuna wrapped a protective arm around her and guided her toward his office. Once inside, he helped her settle onto the plush couch, his eyes never leaving her.

“You’re going to cause chaos every time you visit, Flower,” he said, a rare hint of amusement in his voice.

“Maybe,” she replied with a cheeky grin. “But I brought muffins to make up for it.”

He shook his head, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he sat beside her. Despite the whirlwind she’d caused, Sukuna found himself staring at her, utterly captivated. She always had a way of turning his world upside down in the best possible way.

And the chaos? Oh, it didn’t end there.

For the rest of the week, the entire office buzzed with stories about her surprise visit. Who could’ve imagined that the stoic, intimidating Ryomen Sukuna was married to such a sweet, cheerful woman? The way she smiled, the way she treated everyone with kindness, the way she looked the staff couldn’t stop talking about her.

Rumors swirled, theories were formed, and every detail was analyzed. But one thing was certain: Mrs. Sukuna had left an impression that no one would forget anytime soon.

Divider by : @bernardsbendystraws

[serene555]

Quit tending to your little flowers and pay attention to him, will you?

Many believed Sukuna was incapable of love—and honestly, so did he. He was a sadistic monster, a hedonist who thrived on chaos and slaughter. The King of Curses needed no one but himself, and as for romance? He scoffed at the mere idea. Love was an illusion for the weak, a pathetic attempt to make their meaningless lives feel significant. Or so he thought.

Then, you came along.

At first, he was sure he’d end up killing you. Maybe after a day. A week, tops. But for some reason, he didn’t. You didn’t cower or crumble like everyone else. You didn’t bore him, either. That was the most irritating part. Instead of dying, you lingered around like some annoying pest, and for reasons he couldn’t understand, he didn’t get rid of you. Weeks turned to months, and instead of plotting your demise, Sukuna found himself… invested. He didn’t want to consume or torment you—no, you were something else entirely. Before he knew it, you’d flipped his entire world on its head. You made him happy. And worst of all, it wasn’t the kind of happiness he had to take by force—it just was.

The realization disgusted him. He hated it. He hated you. But not enough to leave. And so, he decided: if he was going to be this pathetically human, it would be a secret he took to his grave.

“Weakling,” he barked, appearing in front of you like the menace he was. His scowl was practically carved into his face, though the impatient tapping of his fingers betrayed him. “How much longer are you going to mess with those damn flowers? They’re weeds with delusions of grandeur.”

Of course, he’d never actually drag you away. Instead, he stood there, arms crossed, glaring at your garden as though it had personally insulted him. He muttered curses under his breath, but his eyes kept drifting back to you, softer than he’d ever admit.

“Don’t call me thaaat!” came your sweet, drawn-out whine, a playful protest aimed at his deep, rumbling voice. The sound was lighthearted, almost innocent, yet it hit him in ways you couldn’t possibly comprehend.

Oh, how blissfully unaware you were of the effect you had on him. Your voice, your expressions, even the way you turned to glare at him—it all stirred something in him he refused to name. You were so small, so utterly unassuming, yet somehow, you managed to occupy more space in his mind than anything else.

He grumbled in irritation as your whiny response met his ears. You were far too comfortable with him—a fact that both annoyed and amused him to no end. He had never imagined another being would dare speak to him with such familiarity, such blatant disregard for his status, such insolence. Yet, try as he might to be annoyed, he couldn’t ignore the strange warmth it brought him. The fact that you showed no fear around him was utterly baffling—and, somehow, endearing.

His crimson eyes lingered on you, sharp and calculating, though his gaze softened just slightly as it roamed over your figure. You were, undeniably, a beautiful woman pest. How irritatingly distracting you were.

Sukuna’s patience snapped as he watched you continue to fiddle with the weeds in your garden, completely ignoring him. His scowl deepened, as his large frame tense with irritation. This was getting out of hand.

He took a step toward you, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “I said, stop.” His tone was low, a warning wrapped in cold menace. “Those weeds of yours have had enough.”

You glanced up at him briefly, your expression unbothered, before turning back to your task, muttering something about the flowers.

A flicker of frustration crossed his face, but he was done with words.

Before you could register what was happening, Sukuna reached down, his massive hand sweeping under your waist. With a single, effortless motion, he lifted you up and tossed you over his shoulder like you were nothing but a sack of some useless patatos.

“Sukuna!” you yelped, suddenly upside down and dangling over his shoulder, your world spinning as you tried to steady yourself. Your protests were drowned out by his steady, unyielding stride.

“Stop whinning, woman,” Sukuna said, his voice calm but thick with irritation. “Learn to obey at once.”

And just like that he was carrying the little insect who had managed to wrap her tiny legs around his being to his chambers, your soft little hands already clawing at his back but he barely gave two shits about your little protests. You were his and now you would pay attention.

———————————————————

an: a man in love, a sinner he maybe is forgiven, right?

lol

The lengths I would go to to justify my love for Sukuna are absurd.

[rosy-hollow]

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

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

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

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

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

Because in his mind?

It was a given.

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

Right?

God, he was so wrong.

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

Nerves.

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

This? This is uncharted territory.

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

But he didn’t just love someone.

He was in love with you.

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

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

You make him feel alive.

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

You are breathtaking.

To be fair, you always are, but—god.

"Holy shit."

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

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

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

You’re his.

And he’s yours.

“I… wow,” he mutters gruffly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were just as whipped as he was.

Just... better at hiding it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no.

“‘Kuna~?” you draw out, sing-song.

He groans. He’s screwed.

“Will you dance with me?”

Sukuna just stares at you blankly.

“Fuck no.”

“Pleeeeease?”

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

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

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

Then—suddenly—the music shifts.

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

Sukuna’s eyes widen slightly as yours light up.

You step toward him, all soft smiles and adoration.

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

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

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

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

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

“That you do.”

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

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

Sukuna snorts.

“You’re a little shit.”

But you both know he doesn’t mean it.

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

[frenchcoucou]

let me hit? 😅

ac: youka_i

[paranoiddreams]

Sukuna isn’t one to show affection—correction: he’s not one for affection at all whatsoever. Of course, he puts up with your hugs and kisses and endless amounts of cheesy pet-names, but he doesn’t do the same at all.

Instead, Sukuna shows his love for you in small, inconspicuous ways. He’s often silent, and observes every small detail around him. That includes, most of the time, you. He knows every little thing about you, from your favorite color, to the way you like your jeans and sweaters washed. He makes the food most of the time, brings in the income, and does chores when you let him—all because he simply will not let you do anything but, “sit and look pretty.”

You ask him why he does this when you start to feel like you’re not doing anything for him besides keep the house clean when you’re home, and he simply says: “It’s my job to provide for my girl; fuck what people say.”

[seeingivy]

sukuna and “ we have to stop meeting like this” plssss

we have to stop meeting like this x ryomen sukuna

**part of my tortured poets concert event

--

“we have to stop meeting like this.” 

sukuna can tell when he’s in trouble. 

he’s seen the look hundreds of times – when he used to talk too loudly during lectures in college, when he’s late to meetings at work, from his brother when he misses his nephew’s basketball games – to the point where he’s able to pinpoint it down to the expression. 

narrowed eyes. furrowed eyebrows. a pursed expression. 

and sukuna can evaluate that, at the very least, he’s not in trouble with you, because you have none of the three, despite the fact that he’s most definitely earned it at this point. a testament to your overwhelmingly large well of patience. if sukuna’s bruised eye isn’t betraying him, he’s almost convinced that he sees a whisper of a smile on your face. 

sukuna readjusts himself in the bed, shifting awkwardly from how small the stretcher is, as you make your way over to his side and pull the shiny blue latex gloves over your hands. 

“how else am i going to see you, doc?” he asks. 

you roll your eyes. 

you’re not particularly fond of downtown los angeles. 

there’s too many people – bustling in the streets, clogging up the sidewalk – to the point where you feel like you see hundreds of people every single day. and while the initial thought of moving was exciting, of the unknown, you very quickly realize that you detest it. 

you work in an emergency department that houses almost hundreds of patients everyday. strangers going in and out, coworkers cycling through to the point where you can barely remember anyone's name, and it’s a severely stark culture shock from the ten manned hospital you used to work at out in the suburbs. the same few patients you saw every few months. 

nothing is consistent in los angeles. except for the promise of a local bar owner, by the name of ryomen sukuna, who always tumbles in around the holidays with some type of injury. 

halloween. new years eve. thanksgiving. a broken arm, dislocated shoulder, a viral infection. 

“you know, i almost thought you weren’t coming.” you joke. 

“and miss out on valentine’s day with you?” he asks. 

you reach forward, fingers light on the side of the face as you guide him to look straight at you, so you can assess the damage. there’s a deep cut on the side of his forehead, superficial, accompanied by bruising around the soft warmth of his eyes. 

and while his pretty face is intact, his arm evidently isn’t. there’s a deep gash, one that makes him wince loudly as you touch the bruised skin around it. you narrow your eyes at him, before craning your neck over your shoulder and whistling. 

“yuuta.” 

“yes, dr. l/n?” 

you give him a polite smile. 

“can you get me a suture kit please?” you ask. 

he gives you a polite nod, quickly scurrying away towards the supply closet, as you turn back to sukuna. 

“don’t make that kid do my stitches.” 

“why not? that kid has to learn, you know.” 

“well, he can learn on someone else, for fuck’s sake.” he mutters. 

sukuna leans forward, giving you a bright grin, and whispering so quietly it sends a warm shiver down your spine. 

“you’ve got a special touch, doc. i’m only going to give you permission to patch me up.” 

you narrow your eyes at him. 

“will you really say no if i make him do it?” you ask. 

he gives you a nod. 

“plus, that poor kid has been staring at that girl with the green hair the entire time. you should let them play hooky.” 

“i should let my residents play hooky?” you deadpan. 

sukuna shrugs. 

“where’s your sense of romance?” he asks. 

you cross your arms over your chest, as yuuta sets the suture kit down on the counter and reaches for the gloves. you raise your hand in the air, gesturing for him to stop, and note that you’ll slightly regret this gesture in a few hours when you have to do the paperwork.

“no need, yuuta.” 

he gives you a frown. 

“i don’t mind, boss. you should take a break.” he offers. 

you shake your head at him. 

“you should go into my office and go to the desk on the left. there’s a box of chocolates that someone gifted me in my top left drawer this morning that you should share with dr. zenin.” you note. 

yuuta’s eyes go wide. 

“what do you mean?” he asks. 

“everyone can see that you’re hopelessly pining over maki. including my patient, who has very graciously convinced me to let you be a romantic. get out of my face before i change my mind.” you respond, making your best attempts at a stern voice. 

yuuta flickers his eyes in between you and sukuna, an unmistakably delighted look on his face, as he lightly taps on the door on his way out. you turn back to sukuna, who now has his eyes narrowed at you as you open up the suture kit. 

“you’re telling me there’s other people that give you gifts?” he asks. 

you scoff. 

“you give me gifts?” you asks. 

“the pleasure of my company at your workplace. on every calendar holiday, mind you.” 

you roll your eyes as you clean up the area around his skin, pulling out the silk material for his stitches. sukuna’s well versed in your stitching techniques, and with a pain tolerance so high, it only takes a few minutes. 

“what did you do this time?” you ask. 

“occupational hazard. who gave you the chocolates?” 

you scoff. 

“where do you work? the mma boxing ring?” you ask. 

“do you think i’m fit enough for that? more fit than the dumbass who gave you the chocolates?” he asks, a wide grin spreading across his face. 

you shrug. 

“evidently not. you can barely…

you pause to lift the chart left on the table, yuuta’s messy notes scribbled on the top, before you look back to glare at him. 

“...take down a christmas tree at the bar without injuring yourself. looks like you’re irritatingly possessive too.” you state. 

sukuna places his hand on his chest. 

“i told you to take it down earlier when suguru was still in town.” you note. 

“in my defense, i was protecting my beloved nephew, yuuji, from injury. he crawled underneath and almost got trampled.” he exaggerates. 

you give him a smile. 

“heroic.” you deadpan. 

sukuna gives you a smile, before lifting his hand up to cup the side of your cheek, the touch warm as he rubs a circle into your cheek. you lean into the feeling as sukuna reaches back and fixes the flyaways to the back of your ear, before you return to stitching up his arm. 

“i’m starting to think you’re injuring yourself on purpose just to spend time with me, ryo.” you murmur. 

“would that be wrong, baby?” he asks.

you roll your eyes. 

“wait for me to come home, dumbass. i’m literally off in five hours.” 

sukuna rolls his eyes right back at you, before leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek. he retreats as you set your forceps down, reaching for the roller bandage as you wrap it around his arm. you secure it with a piece of tape at the end, giving him a squeeze on the shoulder to signal you’re done. 

sukuna interlocks his fingers with yours, lifting your hand to press your fingers to his lips. 

“thanks, doc.” he murmurs, tone uncharacteristically soft. 

you can’t help but sigh – the aching feeling of seeing couples doting over each other all day hitting you in full force, that you’re spending your first valentine’s day away from him – as you reach forward and run your hands through his hair. 

“be careful. i’m wrapping you in bubble wrap next time.” you warm, reaching forward to lean your head against his shoulder. 

sukuna welcomes the touch, with three warm kisses spread between your forehead and your hairline, as he shows you the three pictures of the little valentine’s day card that yuuji made for you that’s waiting at home. 

you grant him twenty minutes – twenty minutes before you tear yourself from his side to go process his discharge paperwork – and send him on his way. you can’t help but sink into the chair the second you see his pink hair dart out the doors, as you type the last of his notes into the chart. 

“did the boyfriend enjoy the chocolates?”  

satoru’s hovering over your shoulder, a bright smile on his face, as he expectantly waits for an answer. you lean back in your chair, heaving a great sigh as you eye the clock.  

“he was here, got injured taking down the christmas tree at the bar. and the boyfriend insisted i give them up for okkotsu and zenin. they’re probably kissing in my office for all i know.” 

satoru gives you a polite tap on the head, lightly ruffling your hair, before pulling up the chair at your side. 

“well, you should be flattered. sukuna’s so dedicated to spending time with you. so romantic of himself to injure himself just to come down here.”

you scoff in response. 

“dedicated to being a dumbass is what he is.” 

satoru shakes his head.

“i think he’s just a big fan of getting doted on. being cared for, patched up by you, and all that.”

[gamblersdoll]

“options.”

sum. he likes to play games with you, acting like he big dog, but you can play with him too. trueform! sukuna, fighting to smut, fluff at the end, spitting, deep mating press, (somewhat.)

“whats with the face, woman?” the ancient monster only asks because you aren’t entertaining him, you aren’t throwing tantrums about him not giving you attention. “youre quiet.”

“im not going to feed into your bullshit today.” you snark back, your arms limp and fingers padding away at your phone and he quirks an eyebrow up. “im not fucking stupid, ryomen.”

ryomen?

he nodded his head slow, chuckling to lean back and rub his chin. “do you know who yer’ talkin’ to?” he asks, you must have forgotten, had to be. the fuck was your problem? youve always been an obedient pet, sometimes having your days where he can somewhat understand and help you calm your nerves. was it that time again? no, he wouldve smelled it, if not— he wouldve tasted it. “talk.”

“you keep playing with me, always saying how im your favorite mortal,’ yet, you sneak off to other women when youre done with me.” you bring up, but it didnt hurt when you said that. thats what this was about? his harem?

“because i can.” he leans up and closer to you. “because i can do what the fuck i want to, thats what happens when youre a demon— let alone, king.” he reminds, you tend to forget your place when it came to him.

“you do that, then.” you chuckle, you were sick and fucking tired. “but when i find a man who i dont have to worry about ditchin’ me for other women, dont be angry.”

“thats okay, because you wont see another man.” hes starting to get pissed, because youre over-fucking-stepping. how dare you think you can seek out other men? when you had a demon who can give way more than what a mortal man cannot.

why was he even angry about that thought?

“so its okay for you to lie in my face and say im your favorite, but you seek other women? make it make the fuck sense.” because he wasnt making sense. you couldnt put that together, youre his favorite but he ended the night with other people to get him off. was your offerance not enough?

“lie?”he scoffs, grabbing you by your jaw and pulling you close. “no one has deceived you.” he makes his tone deep, eyes staring into yours snd he has a snarl to his lip.

“prove it, you goddamn liar.” you spit in his face, watching his blink slow and hard as he takes a deep breath in. “do something, i fucking dare you.” you growl, watching your fluids drip down his cheek.

he had to be more pissed at the fact you called him a liar than the actual truth, the truth of the matter being he does sleep around, (and excuses it by saying hes the king, so he can) and he hated that you labeled him as such.

his legs slammed against the back of yours, yeah he was furious— his second row of arms holding your hips down and one hand holding your wrists down together. “got really smart with your mouth, brat. thats not good.” he clicks his tongue, his only free hand smacking your cheek. “youve lost your goddamn mind, woman— did you think id let you get away with calling me a deceiver?”

“fuck you.” you moan out, this was pathetic. but who could blame you? imagine having a giant ancient demon drill his cock into you, while you feel the other one growing harder, and having him focus on you.

“think im a liar, mm?” he asks, his face getting closer to yours and he shakes his head in disbelief. “you want me to stop having others serve me the way you do? mm?” he asks so sweet, it shouldn’t be allowed for him to sound this way.. not with him being a dick and drilling his first dick inside. “cmon, little one— answer. say what you want.” you muster up the strength to speak, only for him to knock it down and him to pitifully laugh down to you. “oh, poor baby.. can you not speak? is it too much?” he asks, slowing his hips and slowly pulling away.

“no, its not—“ you try to say, but he spits in your face, and you knew that he was trying to prove a point.

“see how that feels, nasty thing?” he asks, taking his thumb and smearing it against your face. “say what you want, woman.”

“want you to stick with me only—“ you finally get it out, cut off with a moan only for him to coo at you. your hands pat at his chest, or so you thought.. since his belly mouth opens and licks at your palm.

“that what you want, pet? for me to only have you serve me the way you do?” he asked, watching your head nod and he smirks. “and what makes you think you get that privilege?” he wasn’t fucking serious, whats with all these fucking questions?

“because—“ you moan after, how the fuck long was this going to go, man? “because i can take all of you, thats why.” you let him know that, and now hes intrigued.

he laughs a little, licking his canines and grinding his tip deeper. “thats all you had to say, pretty one.” he blurts, his hold on your wrists become different, his hand holding yours. “takin’ it so good, think you can handle another?” you nod, him slowing just a little and pressing the second cock’s tip up to your slit. “you wanna try again?” he makes sure you know what youre saying..

because no mortal woman have ever taken him before..

until he learns the hard, satisfying truth about how you can stretch really well when you’re attracted to someone. the second cock slips in, your teeth grit and a slight stretch can be sometimes uncomfortable. his eyes blow wide, his mouth opening slightly in a gaze. “oh?” he says in a marveled voice. “fuck, hell yeah!” he laughs in a boisterous voice, spitting on your folds for lubrication and thrusting his cocks inside your cunt. “my absolute favorite mortal, for sure. ill eat my own words.” you nod, looking up to the ancient monster that fucks itself into your walls and feel it in your throat. your eyes roll back, him lightly smacking your cheek and forcing you to look up to him. “take all of it, take all of this king cocks.”

—

“you dyin’ on me?” he asks, him leaning back on the bed as you pull your panties up. “no, no, stay the way you are.”

“not dyin’.” you say monotone, pulling them off and feeling his eyes.

“youre still doubting my loyalty to you, are you?” he asks gruff. he scoffs, beckoning his fingers to you. “come.” come you did, literally and sexually only five minutes ago. “why do you doubt?”

“you never said youd stop, but.. should i have a reason to believe you?” you asked, looking up to him and he feels a pang.

why did they way you look at him hurt?

“i did. you just are too naive to see.” he pulls you until him, hearing your yelp and holding you close.

“you didnt though, you never said ‘ill stop whoring myself around,’ or however you want to say it.” you suggest that he calls himself a whore? him? no, he wouldn’t suffice to that.

“the moment you were able to get two of my cocks inside of you, i decided that.” he pointed out what he thought was obvious, but that only occurs in his mind. “and… i suppose when you spat in my face and i didnt decide to eat you.” he sighs, the side of his face staring down at you. “so be proud of that, youre my favorite.”

the feeling of hurt and betrayal leave you, knowing one thing was for sure.

you were his favorite, and he was yours.

[lilacgaby]

‧₊˚see you again.₊˚⊹

SUKUNA'S LOVE FOR YOU surpassed time itself. he'd waited centuries for this moment, the moment you'd reunite with him. the moment he'd see you again.

-✩pair. heianera!sukuna x wife!reader. tags. violence, killing, major character death, morally gray reader, pet names, kissing, fluff, crying, minor angst, happy ending. wc.2k

-✩note. heavily based off the song!

saying he missed you was an understatement.

you were his queen, his everything. time meant nothing to the immortal king, but with you by his side he felt that his forever wasn't enough.

you came into his life swiftly, an offering from a village who was begging for sukuna’s grace. you were bound up and pliant, an angry look on your eyes. one that interested him, his hand moving to support his head as a smirk overcame his face.

a lack of tears from you fascinated him. he was met by furrowed brows rather than an expression of fear. a look of defiance as an ordered servant peeled the gag off your lips.

you said nothing, he was almost upset at how you ignored him, choosing to spend your first words in his presence to curse out the leaders of your village.

“silence.” with the point of his finger you still kept your expression, though shutting up. “she is right though,” he stood, walking over to where the three of you sat. one of the leaders shoving your neck to the floor to bow.

“uh, uh, uh.” sukuna waved his finger, “you should know i don't like my prizes to be touched.” your eyes widened out of reflex, the blood of the woman beside you now splattered on your skin. your mouth agape as you saw her head roll.

the lady next to you, her wife in crime, ran out screaming. “i don't remember giving you permission to run.” her body met a similar fate to her wife’s, body sliced diagonally in half. or so you think, you could only hear the sick tumbling of her body off the temple entrance.

he looked down at you, expecting you to scream or cry, to have to silence your sobbing self by a slit of the throat. though.. he was met with none of that.

a small smile, hidden by your bow that you hadn't moved from. relief in your eyes, relaxation in your stature.

“well isn't that interesting?” sukuna sauntered over to you. “raise your head.” you did so, wiping your smile off of your face. “why aren't you screaming sweet girl? your elders were just murdered in front of you.”

with a tilt of your head, as if the answer was so obvious, so simple, you began to explain. “it's not like i liked them or anything,” you wiped the blood off your face using the dead woman’s sleeve, “so why would i be sad?”

he found himself at a loss for words in the first time for a while. the woman’s hand made a hard thunk as it hid the floor again. he scoffed, another large smirk overtook his face. he picked you up off the floor, bending down and meeting you face to face. “i might just keep you.”

the understatement of the century.

it was gradual, yes, but you became more than his favorite. he found himself thinking of you when you weren't gone, moving you into a room connected to his personal chambers so he could speak to you more frequently. he asked your opinions on things, something he never thought he'd find himself doing. you'd sit next to him by throne, helping him pass judgment on those who'd ask for a moment of his time on the daily.

the sobbing that wrecked their bodies, snot slobbering over their faces, their heads kissing the floor as they begged to him. offerings piled up on the floor, many splattered with blood that would need to be cleaned off later.

he liked how you barely emoted, expecting the slash of his finger onto their necks. he liked how the flinches of your body faded away, a cold expression adorning your face now. as if you were above them, and to him you really were.

his quarters became yours too, he grew to adore the sight of you waiting in bed for him. the new silken robes he'd got custom for you, actually your entire wardrobe was put to shame at the staple pieces he'd chose for you.

you didn't get to sit on his throne, no. you sat above it. you sat on him, not even glancing away from him as one arm held you by the waist, passing judgment onto people for the day.

you weren't all a terror though. the concubines and harem he'd harbored over the years were all let go. any one who questioned him was stricken down.

you were gifted a lady in waiting, who'd grown fond of you. though equally scared of your cruel nature that rivaled the king of curses himself.

in life you were a sight to behold. as you awoke, showering with affection, tracing the markings of his skin, kissing the spots around his neck.

many months he spent with you. each rampage he'd gone on was cheered on by you, the taste of victory on his tongue as he gifted you items every time. jewelry, new robes, a garden outside.

though it all paired in comparison to your wedding ring. a stone, specially forged for you of your favorite color. it glistened in the light, though it had an undertone of black.

he adorned a similar band on his hand, lying not on his ring finger, but the pointer finger he used to massacre. so you'd always be with him.

after a particularly brutal one, leaving him with his body completely bloodied not with his own blood, he entered your quarters.

you ran your hand along his body, eyes squinting as you pulled his main hand to your face. “you need to be more careful ryo,” you brought it up to his face, “what if the blood stains your band? replacing it won't be easy.”

he chuckled, placing a hand on your head, making you squirm away from his bloody grasp. “don't worry, i'll take care of it.”

the same scenario played out for years, the years that you'd spent together with him. you'd tell him to be more careful, tell him to be more considerate of your bond symbolized by that ring, and he'd assure you. he remembered it like it was yesterday, the slices of life you'd had alongside him all embedded in his memory.

he wished you'd have taken your own advice. he wished he had hammered it into your head to be careful, to not venture off too far without him. but he didn't.

you left his life just as swiftly as you entered it. your lady in waiting ran into his room without warning, something that'd get her head cut off if it wasn't for the blood on her otherwise white robes. he stood up quickly, rushing his way out the door on instinct as he heed her words.

“the– the queen she’s–”

he silenced her, raising a hand before she could finish her sentence. he smelled it before he could see it, slowing down and walking over to where you said you'd stay out by the garden he'd made just for you.

the white roses were stained red, dripping with your blood as you laid in the flower bed. your face was at peace, eyes closed as if you were just in a short slumber.

though the hole in your stomach that ripped through even the fabric of your clothing let him know it was too late.

“k-king-” your lady in waiting started, hands shaking before he cut her off.

“you're relieved of your duty.”

“w-what?”

“i advise you to stay in our– my temple, i will not be kind these next few days. you may go.”

she bowed quickly, running off with tears brimming at her eyes.

it's what you want-- would've wanted.

your skin was whitened and pale, there was no heaving of your chest anymore. you were gone. and he was alone.

your body was buried in the gardens, your memory was becoming lost to time.

it was seen in the alignment of his throne now that you weren't leaving up against its side, the absence of your shoes by the door, the harem and concubines that littered his halls.

he'd murdered one of them the other day. for touching your clothes, for wearing them. his heart lurched in his chest at the sight of the now hundreds year old robe on the woman. no matter what time would tell, you never faded from his mind. the memory of beating the man who'd been the cause of your death into the ground just as fresh.

even while he was sealed, a day was never lost without the thought of you on his mind. he only saw your face when he closed his eyes. he yearned for you, he wanted to feel you once more. he hoped you'd go north, be reborn and start anew. he hoped for you to find him.

but after hundreds of years waiting, and tiring, he took it upon himself to bring you back. the second he had an opportunity, he did.

a new woman, one he'd not dare compare to you in any regard, was bound by fear in front of him. oh, and a couple chains.

she was screaming, her voice growing hoarse. his temple had been empty for some years, no one would hear her pleas as she struggled aimlessly.

he laughed at the irony, imagining how you'd act in her stead, remembering how you acted when you were bound and laid out in front of him.

he pulled something out of his pocket, a finger with the very same ring of devotion he'd gifted to you. he discarded the paper sealing your very own cursed energy.

he clutched in his hand, closing his eyes as he was determined for this to be the last time he felt your body without a pulse. the last time he'd only feel the softness of your energy and not your plush skin.

he choked the woman in front of him. just before she passed out he let go.

not letting her rest, he pried open her mouth and shoved your finger in, making her breath it in.

he let go, the effects not taking over immediately. she wrapped her hands around her neck and breathed, horrified eyes peering into him until they rolled back, only the white of her eyes showing as she fell to the floor.

the internal torment of souls was happening before his very eyes. evident in the vigorous twitching of the body.

you won though. it was obvious. the glint of your skin began to peek through the head, the body itself reforming to the shape when you died. your hair grew back in its texture and color, the warmth in your skin was a sight for sore eyes.

your eyes opened, revealing the slightly glossy hue of your eyes. you felt as though you'd taken a long nap, rubbing your eyes as they locked into sukuna’s form.

“ryo? what time is it?” you asked sleepily, yawning as he helped you up once more.

“it is a new era, my queen.”

your eyes widened. your hands were in his though you looked around at the changes surrounding you. the trees were larger, thicker than you remember. your garden had a pit in the middle of it, roses growing around it. your heart dropped at the realization, the memories flowing back into you. “i..

i died, didn't i?”

he nodded, looking at where your corpse would lay. “you did.”

“i'm sorry.”

“i shouldn't have let it happen.” he tightened his grip on your hands. “there is not point in reminiscing about it now. you're here, next to me. that's all that matters”

you nodded, still feeling guilt in your chest. “you're not leaving my side.” he ordered.

“of course not.” you moved closer to him, wrapping your hands around his arm.

“can i have a kiss?” you asked, making him raise his eyebrows incredulously.

“woman, i revived you after centuries and you'd still ask?”

you took that as a yes, standing on your toes to kiss him. he picked you up, deepening it.

you had been running through his daydreams for years, plaguing his memories through his actions even while you were alive.

while the wait for you was sickening, the feeling of your skin against his once more convinced him.

convinced him that a millennia of waiting was worth these small moments with you.

taglist: @k0z3me @darhinadadragon

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