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Chapter 2: The Softening

The impossible garden grows, and so does Sukuna's interest in his third wife. But confusion clouds his desire—he seeks comfort in familiar arms while drawn to your chambers. Ningning watches his divided attention with growing desperation. In a palace where love is a weapon, you offer something far more dangerous: genuine acceptance.

WC: 2,838───〃★ masterlist

The camellia became a conversation piece.

Within a week, the entire palace knew about it—the impossible flower blooming in the dead of winter, a gift from an emperor who'd never given gifts before. Servants whispered about it in corridors. Concubines eyed it with barely concealed jealousy when they passed your garden.

You simply tended it with the same gentle care you showed everything else.

"It's beautiful, my lady," Haerin said softly one morning, kneeling beside you as you checked the soil moisture. She'd grown bolder over the past week, speaking without prompting, even smiling occasionally. "The petals are so delicate."

"Like snow," Danielle added, carefully watering the seedlings you'd planted nearby. "But warmer somehow."

You touched one pale pink petal, marveling at its softness. "Camellias symbolize devotion," you murmured. "And eternal love in some cultures."

Both girls went very still.

"Do you think..." Haerin started, then stopped, biting her lip.

"Do I think what?"

"Do you think the Emperor meant it that way?" she finished in a rush, her cheeks flushing. "Or was it just... a whim?"

You considered the question carefully. In the week since Sukuna's midnight visit, you'd seen him only twice—once from a distance as he walked through the palace grounds with his advisors, and once when he'd passed by your garden, pausing just long enough to ensure the camellia still lived before continuing on without a word.

But you'd heard things. Whispers from servants about where he spent his nights.

The concubines' wing.

"I think," you said slowly, "that even whims can mean something. And I think that a man who's spent his life destroying things doesn't accidentally create beauty."

Danielle's eyes went soft. "You like him."

It wasn't a question.

"I don't know him well enough to like or dislike him," you replied honestly. "But I'm... curious about him. About who he is when he's not being the monster everyone expects."

"The second empress was terrified of him," Haerin whispered. "She used to have nightmares."

"And the first?"

"Angry," Danielle said. "Always angry. She hated that he had concubines, hated that he wouldn't give them up for her. She made everyone miserable until he finally sent her away."

You hummed thoughtfully, returning your attention to the camellia. "Fear and anger. Both are exhausting emotions to maintain. Maybe that's why neither marriage lasted."

"And you, my lady?" Haerin asked. "What emotion do you feel toward him?"

You smiled. "Hope, I suppose. Hope that under all that power and violence, there's something worth knowing."

A voice like dark honey interrupted: "Careful, little empress. Hope is dangerous in a place like this."

You looked up to find Ningning standing at the garden entrance, wrapped in furs despite the braziers warming the space. She looked immaculate as always—her hair perfectly arranged, her robes the deep red that Sukuna reportedly favored. But there was something sharper in her expression today. Something almost... hungry.

"Ningning," you greeted warmly. Danielle and Haerin immediately bowed, but you gestured for them to continue working. "You're welcome to join us, if you'd like. We're planning the spring layout."

"In winter," she said, echoing her words from before. But this time there was less mockery in her tone and more assessment. Her eyes lingered on the camellia with an expression you couldn't quite read. "You really believe spring will come, don't you?"

"It always does," you replied simply. "Even after the longest winters."

She studied you for a long moment, then surprised you by actually stepping into the garden, kneeling across from you with practiced grace. Up close, you noticed the faint shadows under her eyes, the tightness around her mouth.

"The other concubines think you're playing a game," she said. "Being sweet and gentle to manipulate him."

"And what do you think?"

"I think," Ningning said slowly, her fingers trailing over the frozen earth, "that you're either the smartest woman I've ever met, or the most genuine. I haven't decided which is more dangerous."

You laughed softly. "Can't I be both?"

Despite herself, Ningning smiled. But it didn't reach her eyes. "Maybe." She reached out, touching the camellia with careful fingers—too careful, like she wanted to crush it but was restraining herself. "He's never given any of us flowers. In two years, he's never... created anything for me."

There was something raw in her voice. Something that spoke of long nights waiting, of hope repeatedly crushed.

"Perhaps he didn't know how," you offered gently. "Some people spend so long being weapons that they forget they can be anything else."

Ningning's eyes snapped to yours, sharp and assessing. "You're trying to see him as human."

"Isn't he?"

"That's what the first wife thought. And the second. They both tried to find humanity in him." Her expression softened slightly, but there was something brittle in it. "They both failed."

"Maybe they were looking in the wrong places," you said. "Or maybe they were trying to create something that wasn't there instead of nurturing what was."

Haerin and Danielle had stopped working entirely, listening with rapt attention.

Ningning stood, brushing dirt from her robes with deliberate movements. "You're strange," she said, echoing Sukuna's words. "But I'm beginning to think that's not a bad thing." She paused at the garden entrance, and when she looked back, there was something almost wistful in her expression. "He came to me last night. After he visited you."

Your hands stilled on the soil.

"He does that sometimes," she continued, her voice carefully neutral. "Seeks comfort in familiar places when something... confuses him." Her smile was sharp. "I know his body better than anyone in this palace, little empress. Every scar, every preference, every sound he makes when he—"

"Ningning," you interrupted gently, not unkindly. "I'm not competing with you."

That seemed to surprise her. "You're his wife."

"And you're someone he trusts enough to be vulnerable with," you replied. "That's not nothing. That's... actually quite significant."

She stared at you like you'd spoken a foreign language. "You're not angry?"

"Why would I be angry? I've been married to him for barely two weeks. You've known him for two years." You smiled softly. "I'd be a fool to expect him to change his entire life for someone he barely knows."

Something flickered across Ningning's face—confusion, maybe respect, maybe something darker. "You really are different from the others."

"So I've been told."

After she left, Danielle leaned closer to you, her voice worried. "My lady... was that wise? She basically told you she's sleeping with your husband."

"She told me she's sleeping with the Emperor," you corrected. "There's a difference. One is a political position. The other is... something that has to be earned."

Haerin bit her lip. "But doesn't it hurt? Knowing he's with her?"

You considered the question honestly. "A little," you admitted. "But I'd rather know the truth than live in ignorance. And I'd rather build something real, slowly, than demand something false immediately."

What you didn't tell them was that Ningning's revelation had actually solidified something in your mind: Sukuna was searching for something. And whatever it was, he hadn't found it yet—not in Ningning's practiced seduction, not in the first wife's demands, not in the second wife's shallow devotion.

But maybe, just maybe, he might find it in your patient companionship.

You didn't see Sukuna for several more days.

But you heard about him.

The servants whispered about his increased visits to the concubines' wing. Three nights in a row, he'd spent hours there—with Ningning mostly, but occasionally with others. It was unusual, they said. He typically visited once, maybe twice a week, and never stayed long.

Now he was there almost every night.

"He's running," Haerin said quietly one evening as she brushed your hair. "From whatever he felt when he gave you that flower."

"Let him run," you replied calmly, though your heart ached slightly. "He'll stop when he's ready."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then I'll have a beautiful garden and two wonderful attendants," you said, squeezing her hand. "That's more than many people have."

But that night, alone in your chambers, you stood by the window and looked at the camellia blooming in the moonlight. You touched the glass, breath fogging it.

"Take your time," you whispered to the night, to him, to yourself. "I'm not going anywhere."

Sukuna came to you on the tenth night.

You were reading by candlelight—a book of poetry Danielle had found in the palace library—when his presence filled the doorway. This time, you didn't startle. You'd almost been expecting him.

"Sukuna," you greeted, setting down your book. "It's late."

"It's my palace," he replied, stepping inside. "I go where I please, when I please."

He smelled like jasmine and something muskier. Ningning's perfume, you realized. He'd come straight from her chambers to yours.

You didn't comment on it.

"Of course." You gestured to the cushion across from you. "Would you like to sit? I was just reading."

He stared at the offered seat like it was a trap. "The others never invited me to sit."

"Did they invite you to do anything?"

"The second one invited me to her bed often enough," he said bluntly, watching for your reaction.

You didn't flinch. "And the first?"

"Screamed at me, mostly. About how I was neglecting her for the concubines. About how I was a terrible husband." He moved closer, but didn't sit. Instead, he prowled around your chambers like a caged beast, taking in the small changes you'd made—books stacked neatly on shelves, a vase of winter branches on the table, your garden visible through the open screen despite the cold.

"You've made this place..." he paused, searching for words. "Softer."

"Is that bad?"

"It's different." He stopped in front of the garden screen, staring at the camellia he'd created. "You haven't asked about where I've been."

"I know where you've been," you said simply. "The servants talk."

He turned to face you, something dangerous in his expression. "And?"

"And what?"

"You're not angry? Not going to weep and wail about how I'm betraying you?"

"Are you betraying me?" you asked calmly. "We barely know each other, Sukuna. You owe me nothing beyond the basic courtesy of our arrangement."

He moved toward you with predatory speed, looming over you. "You should be jealous. Furious. You're my wife."

"I am," you agreed, setting your book aside and standing to face him. You had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. "But you're not mine yet. Not really. That's something that has to be built, not demanded."

"Ningning said you weren't competing with her."

"I'm not."

"Why not?" His voice was almost angry now. "She's beautiful. Experienced. She knows exactly how to—"

"Because I don't want to win you like a prize," you interrupted softly. "I want you to choose me. When you're ready. If you're ever ready." You reached up, touching his face gently. He froze at the contact. "I want you to come to me not because I'm your wife, but because I'm the person you want to be with."

His jaw clenched under your palm. "You're infuriating."

"I've been told that before."

"Ningning is obsessed with me," he said suddenly, brutally honest. "Has been since I first took her to bed. She watches me constantly. Arranges herself to catch my attention. Perfects herself to be exactly what she thinks I want."

"That sounds exhausting."

"It is," he admitted. "But it's also... familiar. Easy. I know what she wants from me."

"And what do I want from you?"

He stared at you for a long moment. "I don't know. That's what terrifies me."

Your heart squeezed. "I want you to be yourself," you said gently. "Monster, emperor, man—all of it. I want honesty more than perfection. Companionship more than passion. Though," you smiled slightly, "I wouldn't say no to passion eventually."

He made a sound low in his throat—not quite a laugh, not quite a growl. "You're dangerous."

"How so?"

"Because you make me want things I gave up on centuries ago." His hand came up to cover yours, still pressed against his face. "Hope. Companionship. Something that isn't just power and conquest and fleeting pleasure."

"Is that so terrible?"

"It is when I don't know how to have it without destroying it." He pulled your hand away but didn't release it. "I'm not a good man."

"I know."

"I killed three people today. Slowly. Because they annoyed me."

"I know."

"I'll probably kill more tomorrow."

"I know," you repeated patiently. "You're an emperor. A curse. A monster. You've told me this already."

"And it doesn't bother you?"

You considered your words carefully. "It bothers me that killing is necessary in your world. But I also understand that you're who you are—you've survived this long by being exactly this. I'm not asking you to change, Sukuna. I'm just asking you to let me see all of who you are—the violence and the flowers. The monster and the man."

He was quiet for so long you wondered if you'd said the wrong thing. Then: "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to see all of me? Most people prefer the monster—at least that's predictable."

You stepped closer, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. "Because I think the man is far more interesting than the monster. And because everyone deserves to be seen for who they really are, not just what they can do."

His other hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. "I spent last night with Ningning. And the night before. And the night before that."

"I know."

"She does this thing with her tongue—"

"Sukuna," you interrupted gently, "I don't need the details."

"You should," he insisted, something almost desperate in his voice. "You should be disgusted. Angry. You should hate me for it."

"Why do you want me to hate you?"

The question seemed to break something in him. "Because that would be easier. Because I know how to handle hate. I don't know how to handle... this."

"This?"

"You," he said roughly. "Your patience. Your gentleness. Your complete refusal to be what I expect." He leaned down, his breath warm against your lips. "You terrify me."

"Good," you whispered. "You terrify me too. I think that means we're even."

He kissed you then.

It wasn't gentle—Sukuna didn't know how to be gentle. But it was different from what you'd expected. There was desperation in it, yes, but also something like wonder. Like he was trying to understand you through touch since words kept failing.

You kissed him back, rising on your toes to meet him, your free hand coming up to rest against his chest. Under your palm, you could feel his heart racing.

When he pulled back, his eyes were wild. "I don't understand you."

"You don't have to understand me," you said, slightly breathless. "You just have to trust that I'm not going anywhere."

"Everyone goes somewhere eventually."

There was something haunted in his voice. Something that spoke of abandonment and loss and too many people who'd feared or hated or tried to use him.

"Then I'll be here until I can't be," you said firmly. "And while I'm here, I'm yours. Completely."

He made a sound low in his throat—not quite a growl, not quite a groan. "You shouldn't promise things like that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'll hold you to it." His grip tightened slightly. "I don't let go of what's mine."

"Good," you said simply. "Neither do I."

He stared at you for another long moment, then released you, stepping back. "I should go."

"You don't have to."

"I do." He moved toward the door, then paused. "The garden. Plant whatever you want. I'll make sure it grows."

Your breath caught. "Sukuna—"

"And your servants," he continued, not looking back. "Haerin and Danielle. They're yours now. Permanently. Anyone who bothers them answers to me."

Warmth flooded your chest. "Thank you."

He left without another word, but you noticed his steps were slower. Less certain.

Like maybe, just maybe, he didn't actually want to leave.

The next morning, the garden had transformed.

Not just your small plot—the entire courtyard outside your chambers. Winter flowers bloomed in impossible profusion: camellias in white and pink, winter jasmine trailing up the walls, early plum blossoms scenting the air with delicate sweetness.

Haerin and Danielle found you standing in the center of it all, tears streaming down your face.

"My lady!" Danielle rushed forward. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"No," you laughed, wiping your eyes. "No, I'm... this is beautiful. He did this. For me."

Haerin turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. "The entire palace is talking about it. They're saying the Emperor has gone mad."

"Let them talk," you said softly, touching a plum blossom with reverent fingers.

What you didn't see was Ningning, watching from a distant window.

Her hands clenched on the windowsill, knuckles white.

He'd never made flowers bloom for her. Never created anything beautiful in her name. She'd spent two years perfecting herself for him—learning his preferences, anticipating his needs, being everything she thought he wanted.

And this... this quiet, gentle woman had received more from him in two weeks than Ningning had in two years.

"My lady?" her own servant asked quietly. "Are you well?"

Ningning's smile was sharp. Dangerous. "Perfectly well. Just... admiring the Empress's garden."

But inside, something dark and desperate was taking root.

She'd had his attention first. She'd been the one he returned to, night after night. She'd been special.

And she'd be damned if she let some outsider take that away from her.

"Prepare my evening attire," she told her servant. "The red silk. The one he likes best."

If the Emperor was confused, she'd remind him exactly what he'd be giving up if he chose his wife over his favorite concubine.

And if that didn't work...

Well.

Ningning had survived this long by being adaptable.

And she wasn't above ensuring her competition faced... complications.

taglist: @measfaf @alebrasil0101 @kisfallinlove @emeraldpurple @bruleecream @kentosangel16 @moonlight52moonlight @choochoocho @hitheliljonokay @chilichopsticks @swytchosox @shazzer29 @lyerul @metal-fl @classylexxii-blog @sensualsniper @shadycrowengineer @lexispeak @teenyping @radiantlyviolentskull @mvstercvrd @classycreationlight @maddy24207 @random-and-out-of-context @peppersbussy-blog @hellokittyadictsworld @makiaiaiki @lovemangasworld @puddlesginger @brazilianvampiregirl @amaiinoo @verogonewild @qwbellao @emoedgylord @cosmicbreathe

[ask to be added!!]

bbunisre

DRIVE ME INSANE! — ryomen sukuna

31: GETORAMA

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

SUMMARY ★ he believes you don't matter to him. just one more annoying fangirl. showing up to his races, being obnoxiously chatty and your flirting—god, does it end? sukuna dreads you. however, he starts reciprocating, as a joke, of course! until it doesn't feel like a joke anymore and he wants nothing but you on his side.

PAIRING ★ streetracer!sukuna x fem!reader

CONTENT WARNINGS / GENRES / TAGS ★ smau w/ written chapters, smut, angst, sukuna is a lot older than reader, older brother to choso and yuji, he was in jail for getting caught racing LOL, nsfw/vulgar jokes like allll the time, inumaki talks (UNFORTUNATELY), sukuna playing w her feelings, he is toxic!

FIRST TAGLIST ★ @b4tm4nn @love-d-luxe @in-aa @kurtcobaingirlie @hannahzg8 @goopzzz @therealmikeross @izakyun @jjkslvt @strwbrrysatoru @kmhsjy @honeysilkdawn @moonmintedx @charlisflyingangell @4rm-the-mf-concrete @chiizuyu @colortheoryrocks @chosoissohotugh @getosuguwife @cl3xr @satorugooner @cosmosspace @marija4674 @snowstriper101 @wqsrs @arithemod @yanelis-world @ehcilhc @ilunita13 @b9nii @ilovetoes @mo072806 @vampshxde @deeeeexx @hushkuna @salad85 @dabi-vakarian @marscars237 @ejk31 @lxne-moon @iluvmegumiiiii @emluvsgetou @tsnmmhrz @mxchiii @akiw0 @blu3berryies @whaddupbaby @kagstobioisthelightofmylife @ackermanandsukuna @gothicbeastgirl

fireladylisa

A Pledge To Keep, ch. 2

summary: getting knocked up by your older brother’s fratbro wasn't exactly apart of your five year plan. least of all with notorious fuck boy ryomen sukuna.

pairing: frat!kuna x reader

content: everything in this series is considered 18+ so not minor friendly! contains mature content such as rough sex, breeding, spanking, spit play, light hitting, lactation kink, descriptive child birth, postpartum depression, probably more

wc: 7.3k

dividers by: @petalpxl | series masterlist | art by lorinmower | part one

Your entire body tensed as you looked at the pregnancy test in your hand and the ten others around your bed. Positive. All of them were fucking positive and you thought you might pass out. How did this happen? I mean you knew who the father was but how could something like this happen when you were on birth control? You specifically started it before that party to stop something like this from happening.

You hadn't gotten your period in three months but that was far from concerning since you’ve suffered from irregular periods since you first got them. So it wasn't really cause for concern as you once went six months without one. This time was different as its absence was eventually accompanied with nausea, extreme tiredness and weird cravings like dipping your nuggets in ice cream.You only thought to take a test after Shoko and Utahime joked in your group chat that maybe you were pregnant and you freaked out and bought eleven pregnancy tests. All rapid results.

There was only one person that could be the father. Ryomen Sukuna, your adopted brothers fratbro that you all but threw yourself on at the end of the year pool party. You could still remember the day, it had been the best fuck of your life and stupidly, you didn’t tell him to put on a condom, confident in the birth control you had started taking a week prior. You even took a plan b after that night, for extra protection.

hiidratedd

UNDER CRIMSON EYES ch-5

Woman disguised as a man reader X sukuna

Synopsis: In which concubine reader disguises herself as a man to avoid her duties.. But nothing gets past sukuna.

Tags: hein era sukuna, identity concealment, afab disguised as a man reader, enemies to lovers..?, mentions of SA(in upcoming chapters), reader's family is shitty,but her brother's suguru goato, uhh angst if you squint..? WC: around 1.9k

Chapter - 5 Entertaining

The private meeting hall smelled faintly of incense and expensive sake.sukuna sat at the head of the low table, expression clearly spelling out boredom itself as the guest official droned on about tax collections, border disputes,and whatever other matters he couldn't bring himself to care about.

His chin rested against one hand, four eyes half-lidded in what could generously be called "listening."

Across from him, the high official-Lord noritoshi kamo, though Sukuna rarely bothered with names-lifted his cup with his left hand, Again.

The man's right arm rested stiffly against his side, barely moving throughout the entire meeting. When he reached for documents, he used his left, When he gestured while speaking, it was always the left. and it hadn't been long before sukuna's lingering gaze already noticed the pattern.

interesting.

"-and the northern provinces have reported increased-"

"Your arm," Sukuna interrupted lazily, cutting through whatever the man had been saying ,as he froze mid sentence

tyygr

look at me.

chapter 1

[ TAGS ] — mdni, 18+ only. use of alcohol. use of cigarettes. MISCOMMUNICATION. slow burn. social discomfort. socially awkward reader. self-consciousness. overthinking. anxiety. social anxiety. making out. rough kissing. neck kissing. slang. social media references.

[ wc: 6.1K ]

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

jumpjo

autumn harvest offerings with heian era!sukuna who wants to slaughter everyone, but your tea is more important

fluff

the village elders are kneeling in the mud outside the palace gates, their foreheads pressed flat against the earth, weeping as they offer up the autumn harvest. they have brought baskets of rice, rare mountain herbs, and a single, polished silver mirror meant to reflect the face of a god.

sukuna is sitting on his outdoor veranda, one leg hooked over the wooden railing, completely ignoring them while he picks at his fingernails with a small, curved dagger. he looks thoroughly bored by their terror.

you step out onto the porch, carrying a small wooden tray with his afternoon tea, your bare feet clicking softly against the cypress wood.

the second your shadow falls over his lap, the king of curses completely freezes. the lazy, indifferent slouch disappears instantly. his four eyes snap upward, locking onto your face with a sudden, hyper-focused intensity that makes the kneeling villagers outside gasp in terror.

“you.. you’re late,” he grunts, though his lower right hand is already reaching out to steady the tray so you don’t drop it.

“the water took time to boil, ‘kuna,” you say quietly, sitting down cross-legged right beside his hip.

sukuna doesn’t touch the tea. instead, he sets the dagger down, his massive, claw-tipped upper hand reaching out to gently, deliberately catch the hem of your sleeve. with a slow, unyielding pull, he drags you across the mats until your side is pressed completely flush against his thigh. he reaches down, his large fingers catching the small of your back and lifting you until you’re sitting directly between his knees, your back resting against his stomach mouth.

he rests his chin heavily on top of your head, two of his arms wrapping around your ribs to hold you still, while his other two hands casually pick up the teacup, holding it to your lips first.

down in the courtyard, one of the elders dares to look up, stammering out a prayer to the ‘benevolent calamity.’ sukuna’s eyes flash with a sudden, vicious malice as he glares over your shoulder at the old man. “look away before i rip your eyes out,” he barks, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly low, protective snarl. he turns his head back, burying his face in your neck with a low, possessive huff, his entire face turning a dark, private red. “they’re loud. drink your tea so i can kill them in peace.”

a/n: heian era sukuna has a special place in my heart

‘ perm. tags , @sh0dor1 @beereadzzz

oreobites

!Ryomen Sukuna; who falls in love with the concubine he hated the most

Every woman brought to his estate understood the rules of survival before they even crossed the threshold.

You bowed until your forehead touched the tatami. You spoke only when spoken to. You anticipated his moods, read the terrifying language of his four eyes, and offered flattery or tears depending on what type of amusement he was seeking that day.

To center your entire existence around Ryomen Sukuna was the only way to ensure your head remained attached to your shoulders.

Except you didn't.

You hadn't knelt when he first entered your quarters three months ago. You had been lying on your side, propped up on an elbow, reading a translated scroll from the northern provinces, and you had merely shifted your gaze to look at him, entirely unimpressed by the sudden, heavy drop in atmospheric pressure that usually accompanied his presence.

"Stand when I enter," he had commanded, his upper eyes narrowing into dangerous, ruby slits.

You had turned a page. "Then leave and enter again. Perhaps I will feel like it next time."

hiidratedd

UNDER CRIMSON EYES ch-4

Woman disguised as a man reader X sukuna

Synopsis: In which concubine reader disguises herself as a man to avoid her duties.. But nothing gets past sukuna.

Chapter - 4 The wrong kind of familiar

By midday, you've decided that Sukuna was attempting to kill you through paperwork alone. Scrolls covered nearly every available inch of the low table infront of you, stacked high enough to make your eye twitch every time Uraume returned carrying more, and they always returned carrying more.

Without a word, Uraume dropped a few more documents beside you, you stared between them and the pile,looking exasperated and done.

"…Are you breeding these documents somewhere?"

fireladylisa

A Pledge To Keep, ch. 1

summary: getting knocked up by your older brother’s fratbro wasn't exactly apart of your five year plan. least of all with notorious fuck boy ryomen sukuna.

pairing: frat!kuna x reader

content: everything in this series is considered 18+ so not minor friendly! contains mature content such as rough sex, breeding, spanking, spit play, lactation kink, descriptive child birth, postpartum depression, probably more

wc: 3.2k (next chapters will be much longer. I just wanted to set up the dynamic!)

dividers by: @petalpxl | series masterlist | art by lorinmower

Ryomen Sukuna doesn't do relationships. He fucks who he wants and then acts as if he never knew the person. That was one of his two rules: always wear a condom and never fuck the same girl twice.

Until he met you. Nanami's adopted sister who came into his life and upended every standard he lived by.

It started the last week of his junior year of uni, his deep gutted interest in his frat brother's younger sister who was tossing back shots at their end of year party. You were just some random girl who caught his eye, hot as fuck in that tight short dress your boobs kept spilling out of.

You danced with random men that Sukuna had the sudden urge to punch, their slimy hands running along your thighs before lightly squeezing your ass. You look unfazed though slightly amused, relishing in the attention you were getting from those cuck losers.

"Who is that?" Sukuna all but growled at Gojo, snatching the drunk frat president by his collar and nodding his head toward you. After yelling what the fuck dude!, he followed Sukuna's line of sight and smirked knowingly. You were throwing your head back with a laugh, moving your hips in circular motions as some guy pulled you closer.

"Nanami's sister and she's off limits unless you have a death wish. Hot as fuck though right?" Since when did Nanami have a sister? Gojo chuckled at his friend's glare before he was being whisked away by the girl that was holding his hand, alcohol spilling from his red solo cup.

bbunisre

DRIVE ME INSANE! — ryomen sukuna

24: GOOD LUCK CHARM! (0.8K)

being at sukuna's race alone is new to you. you've always been accompanied by your friends. it's odd. the amplification surrounding you is disorienting without your loved ones to enjoy it with.

"your friends not here today?"

you look to your left where the voice sourced from.

it's geto. tagging along far behind him is gojo, utahime and shoko.

"hey. nah, they're all busy," you reply.

"dedicated," geto nods with a sharp nod.

you're not close with geto like that. not the way you are with shoko and utahime, however, he provides a quiet guidance you never knew you needed. it's hushed, trustworthy, like an older brother you never had.

"hm, you know?" you ask.

"your side? yes. sukuna's...? well," geto answers. "sukuna doesn't paint the whole picture for us."

"i see."

"y/n!"

you think it's shoko or utahime calling you. you're shocked to find naoya in front of you, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"i've been texting you. looks like my texts aren't going through," he answers.

elsietopia

Chapter 1: "The Third Wife"

You arrive at Sukuna's palace as his third wife—a political offering, nothing more. Unlike your predecessors, you don't arrive with expectations of love or power. You arrive with seeds for a dead garden and kindness for forgotten servants. In a palace built on fear, you plant hope. And the Emperor notices.

WC: 2,891 ───〃★ masterlist

The cherry blossoms had long since fallen.

Winter gripped the palace grounds in skeletal fingers, leaving behind bare branches and frozen earth. It was fitting, you thought, for a place like this—a palace ruled by a man they called a monster, a curse, a demon in human skin.

Ryomen Sukuna.

Your husband, as of three hours ago.

The wedding ceremony had been efficient. Cold. You'd been dressed in the finest silk—crimson and gold, colors that complemented the tattoos you'd glimpsed on his skin—and led through corridors that seemed to stretch endlessly. The few servants you'd passed had kept their eyes down, their footsteps hurried, as if lingering too long in these halls might invite catastrophe.

You didn't blame them.

You'd heard the stories. Everyone had. The Emperor who'd conquered lands with nothing but his cursed energy and ruthlessness. The man who'd taken a first wife and cast her aside when her jealousy became tiresome. A second wife who'd lasted even less time—too vapid, too eager to please, ultimately too boring to keep his interest.

Now there was you.

The third wife.

A treaty offering from your father's province, a political band-aid for a conflict your family couldn't hope to win. You'd accepted your fate with the same quiet grace you'd accepted everything else in life—with steady hands and a calm heart, even when your mother had wept.

"Someone will show you to your chambers," the officiant had said after the ceremony, and then you'd been alone.

Not entirely alone, you supposed. Somewhere in this sprawling palace, Sukuna's concubines resided. You'd seen a few during the ceremony—beautiful women dripping in jewels, their eyes sharp as they assessed the new wife. You'd met their gazes evenly, offering a small nod of acknowledgment.

You weren't here to make enemies. You weren't naive enough to think you could make friends either.

The shoji door slid open, and two young women entered—both looking no older than yourself. They bowed in perfect unison, their movements practiced but stiff with nervousness.

"Empress," the first one said, her voice barely above a whisper. She had gentle brown eyes and her hands trembled slightly. "I am Danielle. This is Haerin. We've been assigned to attend to you."

The second girl—Haerin—kept her eyes downcast, her posture rigid with fear. She was as pretty as Danielle, with delicate features and long lashes, but she looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor.

"Thank you, Danielle. Haerin." You kept your voice soft, gentle, and watched as both girls' eyes widened in surprise. "I appreciate your help. This palace is... quite large. I'm afraid I'll get lost without guidance."

Danielle blinked rapidly, as if kindness was unexpected. Perhaps it was, in a place like this. "Y-yes, Empress. Your chambers have been prepared. If you'll follow us?"

They led you through more corridors, these ones slightly warmer, touched by braziers that cast dancing shadows on the walls. You noticed how they walked—Hana slightly ahead, Haerin trailing behind, both of them glancing nervously at closed doors as if expecting something terrible to emerge.

Your chambers, when you finally reached them, were surprisingly beautiful—spacious, with painted screens depicting cranes in flight, and a small garden visible through the windows.

A dead garden, you noted. Winter-killed and abandoned.

"Will there be anything else, Empress?" Danielle asked, while Haerin began arranging your few belongings with quick, efficient movements.

You turned to them both, offering a small smile. "Please, when we're alone, you can call me by my name if you'd like. And yes—do you know if there are gardening tools available? Seeds, perhaps?"

Both girls froze. Haerin's hands stilled on the silk robe she'd been folding.

"G-gardening tools, my lady?" Danielle stammered.

"The garden outside." You gestured to the window. "It seems a shame to leave it barren. I'd like to plant winter camellias. And perhaps some early plum blossoms, if the soil can support them."

Haerin finally spoke, her voice soft and uncertain. "But my lady... it's winter. Nothing will grow until—"

"Spring," you finished gently. "I know. But seeds need time to root, even in the cold. And hope needs something to tend to."

The two girls exchanged glances, something unspoken passing between them. Then Danielle straightened her shoulders. "I... I'll inquire about the tools, my lady. We should have such things in storage."

"Thank you, Danielle." You looked at Haerin, who was still staring at you with wide, uncertain eyes. "And Haerin, if you're not too busy tomorrow, would you help me plan the garden layout? I'd appreciate another perspective."

The girl's mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "M-me, my lady?"

"Yes, you. I imagine you know this palace better than I do. You'd know where the sun hits, where the shadows fall."

A faint blush colored Haerin's cheeks. "I... yes, my lady. I would be honored."

You didn't see Sukuna for three days.

It didn't surprise you. Political marriages rarely involved actual interaction, and you imagined an emperor had better things to do than visit a wife he'd been forced to take.

So you kept yourself occupied.

The garden became your first project. You worked alongside Danielle and Harin—much to their shock—kneeling in the cold earth with your sleeves tied back, planting camellia seeds with careful hands.

"My lady, please," Danielle had protested on the first day, looking genuinely distressed. "This isn't proper. If the Emperor sees—"

"Then he sees," you'd said simply, patting soil over a seed. "My mother always said that anything worth having is worth working for. Besides, I like the feel of earth under my fingernails. It reminds me that I'm alive."

Haerin had knelt beside you then, hesitantly at first, then with growing confidence. "My grandmother used to garden," she'd said softly. "Before she passed. She said that plants were like people—they needed patience and care to thrive."

"Your grandmother sounds wise," you'd replied, and the smile Haerin gave you was like sunlight breaking through clouds.

Word spread quickly through the palace. The new empress, kneeling in the dirt like a common servant. The new empress, who spoke gently to her attendants and worked alongside them. The new empress, who didn't demand or throw tantrums or weep dramatically like the others.

You pretended not to notice the whispers, but you noticed how Danielle and Haerin began to relax around you. How Danielle started humming while she worked. How Haerin laughed—actually laughed—when you made a joke about your dirt-stained hands.

On the fourth day, you encountered your first concubine.

She was beautiful—of course she was—with long dark hair and sharp, calculating eyes. She found you in the garden again, wrapped in a thick cloak against the winter wind, sketching plans for a stone path while Danielle and Haerinarranged tools nearby.

"So you're the new one," she said without preamble.

You looked up, setting down your charcoal. Danielle and Haerin immediately tensed, bowing low. You gestured for them to rise. "I am. And you're...?"

"Ningning." She tilted her head, studying you like a cat studies a mouse. Her gaze flickered to your attendants dismissively before returning to you. "I've been here two years. Longer than either of your predecessors."

"Then you must be very special," you said simply, without irony.

That seemed to throw her. Her eyes narrowed. "You're not what I expected."

"I'm sorry to disappoint."

"I didn't say I was disappointed." She crouched down, her fine robes pooling around her, seemingly unconcerned about the dirt. "The first wife was a shrew. The second was a fool. What are you?"

You considered the question, then smiled. "A gardener, apparently."

Despite herself, Ningning laughed. It was a surprised sound, quickly stifled. "You're planting flowers in winter. That makes you a fool too."

"Perhaps," you agreed. "But even fools can hope for spring."

She studied you for another long moment, then stood. "He'll break you," she said, not unkindly. "Sukuna breaks everything eventually. It's his nature."

"Maybe," you said softly. "Or maybe some things are strong enough to bend instead of break."

Ningning left without another word, but you thought you saw something like respect in her eyes.

After she was gone, Haerin leaned closer to you. "My lady... you weren't afraid of her."

"Should I have been?"

"The second empress was," Danielle said quietly. "She used to cry after the concubines visited. Said they were cruel to her."

You looked at both girls thoughtfully. "Did you know the second empress well?"

They exchanged glances. "We didn't serve her," Haerin admitted. "We worked in the kitchens usually. But we heard things."

"She screamed at the servants," Danielle added, her voice barely a whisper. "Threw things when she was angry. We were... surprised when we were assigned to you. We thought..."

"You thought I'd be the same," you finished gently.

Both girls looked down, ashamed.

"It's alright," you said, reaching out to squeeze Danielle's hand briefly. "You can't be blamed for expecting the worst. But I promise you both—I'm not here to make anyone's life harder. We're all just trying to survive in our own ways."

Haerin's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Thank you, my lady," she whispered.

You met Sukuna on the fifth night.

You'd been preparing for bed, braiding your hair by candlelight, when the door opened without warning. Danielle and Haerin had left for the evening—you'd insisted they rest, that you could manage alone—so when his massive frame filled the doorway, you were alone.

Completely alone.

With the man they called a monster.

He was... larger than you'd expected. Taller. The tattoos you'd glimpsed during the ceremony covered more of his skin—intricate patterns that seemed to move in the flickering light. His eyes, all four of them, fixed on you with an intensity that would have made lesser women tremble.

You set down your brush and stood, bowing respectfully. "Emperor."

"Sukuna," he corrected, his voice like gravel and silk. "You're my wife. Use my name."

"Sukuna," you repeated softly.

He moved into the room with predatory grace, and you noticed he was studying you the same way Ningning had—like he was trying to solve a puzzle. His eyes traveled from your simple sleeping robe to your bare feet, to the loose braid draped over your shoulder.

"You're not afraid," he observed.

"Should I be?"

"Most people are."

You met his gaze steadily. "Most people haven't been raised by a father who negotiated with warlords since childhood. I learned early that fear is only useful if it keeps you alive. Otherwise, it's just... exhausting."

Something flickered in his expression. Amusement? Curiosity?

He moved closer, and you caught his scent—sandalwood and something darker, like smoke and steel. He reached out, and you held perfectly still as he caught your braid between his fingers, testing its weight.

"You've been gardening," he said.

Not a question. A statement.

"Yes."

"In winter."

"Yes."

"Why?"

You considered how to answer. Honesty, you decided, was probably safest with a man who could smell lies. "Because the garden was dead, and I don't like looking at dead things. Because even in winter, there's potential for growth—you just have to be patient enough to wait for it. And because..." you paused, then continued softly, "because I needed something beautiful to tend to."

His eyes—all of them—focused on you with unnerving intensity. "You think you can make something beautiful here? In my palace?"

"I think," you said carefully, "that beauty exists everywhere, if you're willing to look for it. Even in unlikely places."

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled—a sharp, dangerous thing that should have terrified you.

It didn't.

"The others tried to change me," he said, releasing your braid. "The first wife wept and begged me to send away my concubines. The second tried to seduce me into compliance, thinking her body was enough to hold my attention."

"I have no intention of changing you," you replied. "You are who you are. An emperor. A force of nature. I'd have better luck trying to convince winter to become spring ahead of schedule."

"And yet you plant flowers."

"I plant flowers," you agreed, "because that's who I am. Not to change the winter, but to be ready when spring comes on its own."

He stared at you for so long you wondered if you'd said something wrong. Then he turned and walked to the door.

"The servants say you work alongside them," he said without looking back. "That you learn their names and ask about their families."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because they're people," you said simply. "And people deserve to be seen."

He paused in the doorway, his massive frame silhouetted against the corridor light. "You're strange."

"I've been told that before."

"I haven't decided yet," he said, "if you're wise or foolish."

"Perhaps I'm both," you offered. "Most interesting people are."

You could have sworn you heard him laugh—a low, rumbling sound—before he disappeared into the darkness.

Sleep came surprisingly easily that night.

The next morning, you found something waiting in your garden.

A single winter camellia, already in bloom, planted in the center of the space you'd been preparing. Its petals were the palest pink, almost white, delicate against the frozen earth.

Impossible. Camellias from seed took years to bloom.

But there it was.

Danielle and Haerin found you staring at it, your fingers pressed to your lips.

"The Emperor's work," Danielle whispered, her eyes wide. "His cursed energy can manipulate growth. Force life from death." She hesitated. "He's never used it for flowers before. Only for... other purposes."

Haerin clutched your arm gently. "My lady... what does it mean?"

You knelt beside the camellia, touching its petals with reverent fingers. They were real. Alive. Beautiful.

"Even monsters," you whispered, "can create something gentle."

Behind you, your two attendants exchanged hopeful glances.

And high above, unseen and unheard, Sukuna watched from a window.

He told himself it was a whim. A momentary curiosity about the strange woman who'd invaded his palace with her quiet voice and dirt-stained hands.

He told himself it meant nothing.

He was a liar.

taglist: @measfaf

[ask to be added!!]

sukunahs

crazy in love | ryomen sukuna

chapter 4: bad at love

pairing: serial killer!sukuna x reader

summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.

he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.

if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.

word count: 11.5k

content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con in the later chapters, dark content, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's good to reader exclusively, fic takes place in the early 2000s, piv, domination, blow job, somnophilia (kind of? he wakes her up to have sex), sukuna breaks into her house

a/n: back with more deranged bf sukuna!

masterlist | ao3 | previous chapter | next chapter (coming soon!)

It was a warm morning, just over six weeks after the first time Sukuna had brought you back to his house. Golden sunlight was streaming in through the narrow gaps of his cheap blinds, casting an angelic glow over your soft body.

He was pretty sure he was in heaven.

He felt that way all the time now, because you’d spent the last month and a half practically glued to his side, just like he’d always wanted. Most evenings you were over at his place, tangled up in his sheets, letting him fulfill every fantasy that he’d had over the many years that he’d longed for you. Then you’d stay over, curled up in his arms, and every morning he’d wake up to the beautiful sight of you at his side, your face buried into his chest.

It was everything he’d ever desired.

bambismoon

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡᴇ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴀʏ - ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ ⋆˚࿔ ꜰʀᴀᴛ!ᴋᴜɴᴀ x ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅʙꜱꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⋆˚࿔ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ | ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ / ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ + ᴀʙᴜꜱᴇ / ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ / ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

⭑.ᐟ ᴡᴄ - 11k

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

☾

you barely slept the night following sukuna’s confession.

ryomen sukuna was absolutely insatiable.

after your third round, you were finally dozing off into a dreamless sleep, except the man woke you up an hour later, sweaty chest pressed into your back as he groaned against your neck, already half-way inside you. and after that, he woke you up once more at 2am and didn't allow you a semblance of peace until you could see the rays of sun painting his room a low gold.

sunlight bled through the thin gap in sukuna’s blinds, pale and intrusive, catching on the low curve of his shoulder and the tattoos that trailed down his arm like inked secrets. a softness floated lazily in the air between you both, quiet and almost sacred.

you gasped for a second when you woke up, hair a tangled mess and heart beating a mile a minute. you turned to grab your phone to see it was half past eleven.

your 8am lecture was well past over and your next one was in two hours.

with a soft sigh, your eyes trailed over to the sleeping man beside you who’s arm was still lazily thrown over your hips. with a soft breath, you laid back down, heart clenching as you watched his alarmingly peaceful state.

you turned on your side facing him, allowing you to study his tattooed features even closer.

you listened to his breathing, felt the weight of his arm heavy around you, felt the thoughts parading in your mind, overwhelming but so real.

sukuna drowsily groaned, turning to press your back against his chest, flush against him.

like pure instinct.

his chest rose steadily behind you, warm against your spine. one of his large hands splayed flat on your stomach like he’d fallen asleep afraid you might disappear once more. his thumb twitched every so often, brushing absentminded circles into your skin.

you bit your lip gently, afraid to move, afraid to even breathe too loud.

you were worried that if you did, the moment would shift and you were terrified of what that shift would mean.

because last night had changed something so fundamentally. you weren’t ready to face him yet, just a few more minutes so you wouldn’t absolutely freak out on him.

your wide eyes stared at the wall in front of you, breath shallow and careful as if any louder inhale would wake him.

you tried to replay it, then. the kiss, the confession, the way he’d said i love you like he’d been holding it behind his teeth for a decade.

and god, you had said it back.

bambismoon

everything we didn't say - six frat!kuna x childhoodfriend!reader

warnings | (mdni) mentions of abuse / violence / trauma flashbacks / implied ptsd / panic attacks / toxic dynamics / sexual themes

wc - 9k

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

☾

the wind was cold against your damp cheek, the air tasting like metal as you sniffled.

sukuna had walked away fifteen minutes ago but you remained where you were, right where he’d left you.

you weren’t sure why you didn’t move. shock? agony?

no. hope.

you hoped he’d come back, something in you told you he would. but when twenty minutes passed, the hope had flickered down to ache.

not the dramatic kind of ache you often heard about. no thunder or sirens or some cinematic moment where the pain announced itself.

but there was a sick, twisted kind of hollow feeling that settled in your throat and made swallowing feel like work.

sukuna had disappeared down the sidewalk quick, like he was trying to outrun the pain in his chest. like he was fighting back the doubts in his mind. like distance would undo what he’d just done.

part of you didn’t blame him for leaving and that’s what killed you. the fact that, truthfully, you understood.

but you remained where you were, hands clenched at your sides so hard that your nails half-mooned into your palms. your breath was trembling, fogging into the cold as your eyes burned.

and when you realized he wouldn’t come back, when the torment dragged on and the sorrow settled, you broke.

bambismoon

everything we didn't say - five frat!kuna x childhoodfriend!reader

warnings | (mdni) mentions of abuse / physical child abuse / violence / trauma flashbacks / implied ptsd / panic attacks / toxic dynamics / heavy petting / mentions of masterbation

series masterlist | four

☾

after the last whistle blew and it was made official that sukuna had won his first ever college game, a party didn’t even cross his mind.

the locker room had been loud, gojo yelling, team chanting, sweat and adrenaline still clinging to them. but sukuna had peeled off his pads in silence, fingers shaking in a way he pretended was exhaustion.

his mind was riddled with one thought. you. always you.

he found you waiting by his truck.

you were perched on the hood, legs crossed at the ankle and his jersey sallowing your smaller frame. the field’s lights panted your skin and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

“we won.” he stated unnecessarily, duffel on his shoulder as he made his way to you.

you who was smiling softly, so unfairly pretty, it made his chest clench in appreciation.

his statement was blunt and obvious but you smiled anyway. soft and proud. entirely for him.

“i know,” you replied amusedly, sliding off the hood, “you were incredible.”

and the word incredible had never meant much to him before you had said it.

sukuna wasn’t even sure he would make it to college a year ago but here he was. on a full ride scholarship and it was all because of you.

“wanna go for a drive, angel?” his voice was deep and almost dazed as he placed his duffel in the backseat, eyes never leaving you.

you hummed with a small grin, “don’t you have a frat party to get to?”

sukuna shrugged gently, walking towards you as you crossed your arms, looking up at him with those eyes that continuously rendered him weak.

“think m’right where i should be.” with you. you. you.

your cheeks heated up as you smiled gently with a small nod, “will you get me a coke?”

sukuna smirked softly, patting your head as he nodded towards the passenger seat, shaking his head softly as you made your way there, “i’ll get you whatever you want.”

he drove without music, windows cracked just enough to let the cold bite. the night stretched quiet and endless, the kind of silence that resembled peace.

sukuna continuously glanced at you as you sipped your diet coke, quiet as you watched the moon outside, knees tucked up to your chest.

you made something in him tremble every single time he looked at you. you were something so fucking visceral to him, so embedded in his being that he couldn’t imagine him without you.

it wasn’t until he turned down a dirt road just outside the city, tires crunching until the world opened up into nothing but sky, that you spoke up.

“ryo,” you laughed gently, eyes gazing over the empty fields where the stars seemed much brighter, “we haven’t been here in ages.”

and it was true. the last time he had taken you here was the night after your high school graduation where you laid in the back of his truck for hours, eating the tiny bento cake with the small graduation cap that your mom had gotten you.

“figured it was about time,” he looked at you for a moment, “wanna sit in the back, angel?”

with a small dimpled grin that made his heart stop, you hummed in agreement before exiting the car, him following.

sukuna braced himself on the metal and pulled himself up and onto the bed of the truck.

you gasped softly at the blankets and pillows laid out in the back, “you planned this.”

he ignored your words, holding his hand out for you like it was instinct. he pulled you up like you weighed nothing, heart fluttering as you giggled and laid on your back, letting out a loud sigh as you gazed at the sky.

sukuna laid beside you then, shoulders touching, staring up at the stars like they held the answers.

“i don’t know why graduation feels like a lifetime ago…” you murmured gently, a soft sigh following as sukuna glanced at you, one arm under his head, the other limp beside yours.

“time’s flyin’, huh?”

his words had you sighing gently, shifting as you turned your head to gaze at the side of his, expression doe eyed and soft but fragile all the same.

“kinda scary…” your voice was low, even less than a whisper and sukuna immediately turned to meet your gaze. he hated whenever you sounded small, distressed or perturbed.

“what is?”

your shrugged gently, face soft and eyes open, like even before expressing your concerns, you looked to him for comfort. always.

“i don’t know…all of it,” a small huff left your lips as you shook your head, gulping gently and he could tell that whatever was working your pretty mind was troubling you, “i don’t like not knowing…like, the future and what’s gonna happen. y’know with everything…with me, with us…”

sukuna immediately sat up on his elbows, watching you closely as your doe eyes grew a bit glassy and you looked up at him like he held all the answers.

he didn’t know either. he didn’t know what things will look like in a year’s time or even tomorrow, but he didn’t have to know everything. because if there was one thing he was sure of, it was you. his constant.

“i’m one thing y’never have to wonder about,” his voice was rough and his brows furrowed as he looked down at you, your own eyes looking up at him expectantly, “m’here, i’ll always be here.”

the stars blinked overhead like they were listening and your heart clenched gently with all the emotions you felt for him.

“you promise, ryo?”

his jaw clenched with effort, hand moving to rest on the top of your head, thumb caressing your temple with so much gentleness, it caused a shaky sigh to leave your lips.

“i promise…” a whisper left him, gut twisting with the emotion only you could pull out of him, “i’ll always be where you are, brat.”

and it was in the way he stated it like a fact, not a confession that had a blanket of warmth and reassurance cloud over you.

you were quick to offer a small smile before leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck and he was even quicker to pull you into him until your small frame was cradled against his chest, legs over his own as you sat on his lap.

one arm circled your waist as the other hand held your head, thumb stroking your hair as you softened against him.

"i promise, too."

his chest constricted with vehemence, eyes shutting as he inhaled the scent of your shampoo, light and clean.

something so incredibly you.

he wanted to say something else then. something permanent and dangerous.

instead, he looked up at the sky and let the moment pass.

☾

the kettle whistled loudly, steam hissing and metal rattling until the sound cut through your quiet apartment sharp enough to make your shoulders flinch from your place on the couch.

“fuck-“ you hurried into the kitchen, hands fumbling as you twisted the burner off. the kettle rattled once more before settling, steam curling up towards the ceiling as you sighed.

you stared at it for a second too long.

your mug sat empty on the counter, tea bag string draped neatly over the trim, untouched. everything prepared and forgotten.

your fingers tightened around the handle as you poured the water, steam sloshing unevenly against the ceramic, a few drops splashing on the skin of your hand. you didn’t react.

you’d been zoning out more than usual lately, ever since the game a few days ago.

just small disappearances, losing minutes at a time, staring through windows, rereading the same sentence without absorbing a word. it was like your mind was out of balance.

you carried the mug of mint tea to the couch and sat back down, cradling the warmth between your palms. warm and grounding. you focused on that and not on the constant weight on your chest.

you were fine. it was okay.

you could hear the front door click open and your spine went a touch too straight. could it be-

“hey, girl.” shoko voice permeated the space, tone careful like she was testing the weight of the words before letting it go.

utahime followed her in and you realized you had left the door unlocked last night because there was only one other person who had the key to your apartment besides you.

fuck, you were out of it.

both of them paused by the closed door, eyes flicking to you then around the apartment like they were stepping into a room where something fragile had shattered and no one was sure where the glass was.

you hated that look.

“hi!” you greeted, a bit too quick, lifting your mug in a half-hearted gesture, “don’t you guys have class?”

shoko’s gaze dropped briefly to your bouncing leg and the untouched tea then back to your face.

“yeah,” she said, forcing brightness into her voice, “prof cancelled, fucking miracle of the century.”

utahime slipped off her coat, slower than usual as she watched you the way someone watches a storm that hasn’t decided if it’s coming or not.

you took a sip of your tea and immediately regretted it, the liquid burning your tongue but you swallowed anyway.

“how’re you feeling?” utahime questioned, gentle but firm as she took a seat on the armchair, shoko following as she sat down on the other end of the couch.

there it was, that stupid question.

you couldn’t answer, not really. because you didn’t know how to explain the feeling, the crushing and dreadful emotion that’s been weighing on you since that night.

you couldn’t get it out of your head, sukuna’s face, your words, jean’s bruise-

“m’fine.” you stated firmly, smiling gently and so falsely, utahime almost wanted to roll her eyes.

“you sure?” she pressed, “because you’ve been kind of out of it-”

“i’m just tired.” you huffed softly, a sound meant to pass as a laugh but didn’t. both girls narrowed their eyes on you, “i’ve got a lot on my mind, okay?”

your words left you sharper than you intended and both girls exchanged a glance, quick and loaded like they were walking on eggshells.

you could feel it in the way they spoke now, the way they watched your face for cracks. like if they moved wrong, you’d shatter.

you hated that too.

“i’m alright, seriously…”

but you weren’t. you all knew it.

something was missing. not loudly or catastrophically, but wrong.

almost like walking into a room you’d lived in for years to find the furniture rearranged. just off.

since the night of the game, your days had lost it’s anchor.

you were used to him. you woke up expecting a text that never came. you fell asleep without knowing if he was okay. you walked across campus and kept turning your head, half convinced you’d see a familiar set of ruby eyes and tuft of pink locks paired with a familiar scowl moving towards you.

you never did.

the silence that was left behind was worse than any fight you’d ever had. because fighting meant he was still there, but this…it felt final.

shoko shifted beside you, couch dipping slightly under her weight while utahime stayed where she was, watching and waiting.

“have you eaten?” utahime questioned lightly as you took a sip of the warm tea in your hands.

you simply hummed and they knew it was a lie. a small one, the kind you told without thinking.

you haven’t had an appetite either lately, you supposed when there was the feeling of a hole in your chest, hunger is your last concern.

utahime’s eyes flicked briefly to the kitchen, the untouched bowl of fruit on the counter the same as a few days ago, when usually you’d have to restock it by now.

but she didn’t call you out on it, sighing softly instead, “you’ve been a bit quiet since the game.”

“have i?” you hummed, lifting the mug again without taking a drink, “i feel the same.”

that earned you a look.

shoko tilted her head at you, eyes gentle as she studied you, “i mean…it’s okay if you don’t.”

“i know,” you flashed a smile, “good thing i am, though.”

your leg bounced once, twice, then stilled when you noticed utahime’s gaze drop to it.

ugh, you hated how much they knew you.

“you don’t have to pretend.” shoko softly stated and you almost flinched.

there was the crack in the conversation that you refused to fall into.

you inhaled slowly, attempting to steady yourself as you exhaled through your nose, “i’m not pretending.”

the words came out calm, measured, almost convincing.

shoko leaned back, arms crossing loosely, “okay.”

just okay. no argument or insisting words, no pressure.

somehow that was worse.

you stared ahead, eyes unfocused as your thoughts drifted despite your efforts to corral them. it was a quiet sort of torture as you wondered where sukuna was, what he was doing, who he was with.

i’m done. i’m so done, sukuna.

you exhaled gently as you practically shivered. were you?

a part of you hoped you meant it, that you were done putting yourself through all the bullshit sukuna pulls from the possessiveness to the simple way he acts like he has the biggest say in your life.

i’m done. i don’t wanna see you anymore.

your eyes shut forcefully, urging the look on sukuna’s face when you had said that out of your mind. your heart clenched, fists clenched around the mug and breaths trembling.

a bigger part of you, one you hated more than anything, knew that done wasn’t a word that could describe you and sukuna. maybe you had meant it at the time, maybe you even meant it now, but truthfully, it wasn’t your choice to make. it wasn’t even sukuna’s.

whatever lived between you wasn’t something either of you had chosen. it had simply grown, quietly and relentlessly, wrapping itself around your entire beings until it became something unavoidable. like gravity or a tide. like fate in it’s most unforgiving form.

you could walk away. you had walked away. but nothing about you and sukuna felt finished.

because what hurt the most wasn’t even what occurred at the game. it wasn’t the shouting or the punches thrown, not the way his anger had burned through the stands and scorched everything in it’s path. it wasn’t even the look on his face when you had spoken up, all raw and furious and shattered all at once.

it was before that.

it was the moment earlier that day when you had finally admitted it to yourself. when the thing you had kept buried for years slipped past the plush of your lips in a room that felt too small to hold it.

you were in love with ryomen sukuna. devastatingly and irreversibly so.

you had never let yourself speak it aloud, you’d always lived around it. in half truths and justifications, in loyalty disguised as habit.

naming it had made it real in a way nothing else ever had.

and since you spoke it, you couldn’t take it back and fuck, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

your chest ached as the realization settled even deeper, heavier.

because loving ryomen sukuna wasn’t a phase you would outgrow or a mistake you could correct. it was something that threaded itself through your childhood, your adolescence and your adulthood.

it was in broken homes, bruised skin, fires and sleepless nights. it was in the way you knew him more than anyone ever will. it was in the way you had stayed up hoping he’d choose softness over fear.

you had loved him silently for so long that quiet had become second nature and now that the truth existed out loud, it felt like you’d lost something vital.

you pressed the mug to your lips once more, even though the tea was colder, even though it did nothing to soothe the ache beneath your ribs or mend whatever had broken inside you that night.

your breath shook, just once, before you forced it steady.

you weren’t mourning the argument.

you were mourning what could have been. the version of him that stayed. the version of you who didn’t feel like you had to walk away.

you knew whatever lived between you would never just end cleanly.

and no matter how much you ran from it, some part of you knew you’d always feel him. like a pull you couldn’t escape.

like fate that refused to loosen it’s grip.

☾

it was eight in the morning when you heard a knock on your door.

you had woken up in the worst possible mood, your period was about to come and your cramps were already dreadful.

and the pounding on the door did nothing to soothe your irritation.

“m’coming!” you grumbled as you put down the hot water bottle you were preparing, hair still mussed from sleep, face puffy and a pout on your slightly swollen lips.

with a sigh and brows furrowed with annoyance, you pulled the door open for your eyes to meet a familiar pair of icy blue orbs. you scowled immediately.

“what the fuck d’you want?”

the grumble that left your lips caused satoru’s brows to raise with both amusement and surprise.

“now i know why i never see you in the mornings.”

you merely rolled your eyes, turning to walk back into your apartment, allowing satoru to step in and let the door close, following you into the kitchen as you began making your tea.

“how’re you doin’, princess?” satoru questioned as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed , showcasing muscles that you knew girls drooled over.

you barely glanced at him as you poured the water into the kettle.

“m’fine.” you simply mumbled because if someone else questioned your state, you’d lose it.

satoru simply hummed as he watched with observant eyes you couldn’t stand.

it’d been a full week since the game and you hadn’t seen sukuna since. it was the longest you’d ever gone without speaking.

it’s not like you were hoping he’d show up. well, not really. it’s just that you didn’t expect him to just let you end it all. you expected him to show up, fight you on it, be pissed and upset.

alas, nothing of the sort came.

and you did not want to address your sleepless nights or the constant ache in your chest and it’s possible relation to the situation.

the kettle clicked softly as it settled, steam rising in lazy spirals between you and satoru. the quiet stretched, thick and uncomfortable, until even you could feel it pressing in.

satoru was weirdly quiet, serious and it unnerved you.

satoru watched you over the counter, blue eyes unusually subdued.

gone was the usual cocky grin, the theatrics, the effortless charm he wore like armor.

he looked careful. like he’d rehearsed this moment and still didn’t know how to start.

“what’s going on, satoru?” you questioned gently, abandoning your tea in favor of watching your friend visibly attempt to articulate his words in his head before speaking them aloud.

“sukuna’s missing.”

your hands paused against the mug, just for a second but satoru caught it.

you looked down with a clearing of your throat as you occupied yourself with your tea once more.

“missed a day of practice,” he continued, voice casual in the way people get when they’re trying not to scare someone, “then two. then the whole week.”

you resumed stirring, slow and methodical, like you weren’t even listening at all.

but he knew you were.

and you were. your heart thumped rapidly against your ribs, hands trembling the slightest bit at his admission.

“coach is losing his mind,” satoru added, softer now, “threatening suspensions, benching, all that fun stuff.”

still, you gave no indication that you had even heard him.

your tea bag string floated uselessly against the rim of the mug. you stared at it, jaw tight and heart doing that awful, familiar thing where it tried to claw its way up your throat.

“he hasn’t been at the frat either,” satoru went on, pushing gently, “room’s untouched, phone’s going straight to voicemail, we all tried him.”

and your shoulders stiffened, spine straightening as you turned just slightly, doe eyes narrowing, “why are you telling me this?”

satoru met your gaze evenly, no teasing or grin. utterly serious and equally concerned.

“because you’re you and you’re the only person he’s ever listened to.”

you scoffed gently, turning back to your tea, “it has nothing to do with me, satoru. like i told him, i’m done.”

satoru scoffed instantly, “it has everything to do with you. don’t-just don’t do that thing where you pretend you don’t matter to him. i’ve seen that guy wreck himself over you since freshman year.”

you swallowed tensely, wanting to speak up immediately but there was a lump in your throat. the kitchen felt smaller, tighter.

“he didn’t even come to yell at me…” you muttered, more to yourself than him and feeling so utterly stupid, “clearly, he’s fine.”

satoru shook his head, “we both know that’s not true.”

silence fell again, heavier and tenser this time.

you knew where sukuna was.

you’d known the second the days stretched on without a word, without a fight, without his presence looming somewhere on campus like a storm waiting to break. you’d known because you knew him. because there were only a few places he went when he needed to feel grounded and where you were wasn’t an option.

“i’m not asking you to forgive him, okay? he messed up, i know that..” satoru state carefully, stepping closer but stopping short, like he knew better than to crowd you, “i’m just asking you to help us find him, get him back. the team needs him, alright?”

you need him.

a cruel little voice added.

you pressed your lips together, blinking hard.

“i meant it when I said told him i was done.” your words left you soft, quiet.

satoru studied you, something sgentle flickering in his gaze, “i’m sure you did…at the time.”

the insinuation hung heavy between you and your eyes turned glassy.

maybe it was your period or the soft way satoru was looking at you, like the breakdown that occurs when people ask if you’re okay when you’re already on the verge of tears.

or maybe it was simply the weight of the entire week finally crushing you.

but you allowed a tear to fall, just once, just a little semblance of relief.

“he won’t listen to me.” you sniffled softly, wiping your cheeks as satoru sighed gently, your name leaving his lips as a whisper.

“you’re still you,” your name left him once more, “he’ll listen to no one else, even if he’s pissed.”

something fractured inside you and you turned away before he could see it, sense it.

the way your eyes glassed even more, your chest tightened until breathing felt like work. your fingers curled around the mug, heat seeping into your skin like an anchor.

a long moment passed before you spoke again, willing your voice to remain steady.

“i’ll get him back.”

satoru’s shoulders loosened in visible relief, “yeah?”

you nodded once.

you didn’t tell him where sukuna was or how you knew.

you didn’t tell him that the thought of seeing him again made your stomach twist.

fuck, you’d never learn how to leave sukuna alone.

☾

“thank you…” you murmured softly to the uber driver, shutting the door as he offered a nod.

you let out a sigh as you turned to face the large house, memories of summers spent alongside sukuna, yuji and their grandfather filling your vision.

you huffed gently, temples throbbing after a four hour train ride and a forty-five minute uber that cost you way too much.

but you had made it.

the house loomed ahead of you, all white shingles and wide windows. the kind of place that only ever felt alive in july.

now, it stood hollow and still, wrapped in winter silence, dunes dusted pale and the ocean beyond dark and quiet.

with a small sigh, you climbed the steps slowly, fingers numb from the cold and something heavier in your chest. you shivered as a gust of wind blew your hair around, freezing even with your jacket and scarf.

the code to the door was muscle memory, a set of numbers you knew by heart since you were younger.

you didn’t even think as you punched it in, the soft beep echoing as the lock clicked open, sounding far too loud in the quiet. you didn’t want to admit just how nervous you were.

what were you even going to say to him? what would he say back?

the door creaked when you pushed it in, warmth enveloping you as you allowed the door to shut, the interior smelling faintly of salt and something achingly familiar.

it felt wrong to be here without him greeting you, without him having been the one to drive you here.

you moved through the quiet, a chill traveling down your spine as your wide eyes studied the familiar space, shoes echoing against the hardwood.

the living room was untouched, furniture draped in white sheets, fireplace cold and framed photos still lining the mantle.

your fingers brushed over a familiar photo of you and sukuna at thirteen years old, all toothy grins and cold cokes in hand, your hair blowing and sukuna’s pink hair in a buzzcut. your heart squeezed fondly.

the photo beside it was you both at eighteen, sukuna’s hand on your hip, pulling you back against him, his chest to your back as you both smiled at the camera. his smirk soft and your grin pretty. all salty hair and tan skin.

“focus.” you whispered gently, ignoring your throat tightening.

you moved through the house slowly, quietly like you were afraid to wake something.

upstairs was empty, guest room untouched, his old room the same.

he wasn’t here.

your heart sank, dread blooming sharp and immediate.

with a small sigh, you opened the glass door that led to the beach and you quickly noticed it. the wind tore at your hair as you wrapped your coat tighter around yourself, eyes scanning the stretch of sand beyond the deck.

there he was, down by the waterline.

sukuna was barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of dark shorts and a fleece jacket that did little to protect him from the cold. his skin was flushed, muscles tight and clenching as he sprinted across the sand, back and forth, burpees at the end of each short sprint. he pushed himself through brutal reps like he was trying to outrun something inside him.

you willed yourself to have some courage, pep-talk sounding in your mind as you urged yourself to not turn back. you moved forward despite the ache in your chest that only increased as he got closer.

the ocean roared behind him, waves crashing hard and relentless. the wind whipped his hair back from his face, pink locks damp with sweat and salt as his chest heaved, beanie on his head.

he looked feral, untethered. almost like he was punishing himself.

then he turned and your eyes met from a distance.

sukuna visibly froze, chest heaving as his eyes assessed you like they always did.

the moment stretched thin and fragile, like glass about to shatter.

sukuna’s chest rose sharply, breath hitching once before his jaw clenched hard. his eyes dragged over you slowly like he didn’t trust what he was seeing. like you might disappear if you blinked.

you didn’t move at first, neither did he.

the wind howled between you, carrying salt and cold and all the things you’d never said.

finally, with a small gulp, you forced your feet forward, shoes sinking into sand as you closed the distance. every step felt like the sand beneath you was quick sand, like you were walking to your doom.

you stopped a few feet from him and you wished you didn’t.

dark circles painted his under eyes, knuckles split raw and shoulders tense like he was bracing for impact.

your chest tightened painfully.

“your friends are worried about you.” you stated, firm and flat, like you hadn’t crossed four hours and a lifetime to stand in front of him, “you’ve missed a week of practice and coach is pissed.”

his mouth twisted, scowl painting his features as his jaw clenched.

that familiar, bitter curl of his lip made something snap inside you.

“that why you came all this way?” he scoffed, voice sharp and cold as the wind against your face, “to play messenger?”

you bristled immediately, “excuse me?”

he scoffed with a shake of his head, “fuckin’ wasting your time.”

the anger that split through is one you haven’t felt in a while.

“listen, asshole,” you snapped, “you don’t get to just disappear like that, not from your team when they’re counting on you and not from yuji.”

his eyes flashed, “yuji’s fine.”

“but you wouldn’t know that, sukuna, you’re not answering anyone!” you shot back, anger bleeding through, “stop acting like a child! your friends need you, your team-”

“and you?” he cut you off, stepping closer, eyes blazing, “i don’t give a flyin’ fuck about them. what about you?”

your name left his lips as his jaw clenched and you faltered for half a second.

you didn’t say anything and his expression hardened.

“fuckin’ go home, okay? i don’t want you here.”

he turned around, turned away from you and with a small gasp, you snapped and moved forward.

“you are such a little shit!” you exclaimed as you gripped the fabric of his fleece, turning him around as your doe eyes turned glassy with rage, “after everything you did, you’re pissed?! what right do you have, sukuna-“

“you fuckin’ walked away from me,” he cut you off, voice low and dangerous as he pointed a finger at you, words smothered with something akin to pain, “tellin' me you’re done, that you don’t wanna see me again and now you’re here tellin' me what i owe everyone else?”

your breath came sharp, gulping softly as you willed your tears not to fall.

the wind tugged at him, ocean thundering behind him and for a moment, it looked like he might say something devastating but instead, his jaw tightened.

“you promised,” your name left him roughly, “you promised you’d never leave.”

your heart cracked clean down the middle.

“i didn’t leave,” you snapped as the tears fell against your efforts, tears of pure frustration and anger, “you did this! you pushed me away-“

“don’t fuckin’ say that! i would never fuckin'-”

“you did! you did! you always-“

“you walked away!”

“because you gave me no choice!”

his eyes darted and the silence that followed was thick and trembling, stretched tight between two people who knew each other too well and not enough at all.

he laughed then, low and laced with bitterness.

“no choice?” he repeated, tasting the words like something sour, “that’s fuckin’ ridiculous, woman-”

your chest burned, “you’re a dick!”

“and you’re a fuckin’ liar!” he snapped, stepping closer once more, heat rolling off him despite the cold, “you stood there and told me you were done, after fuckin’ everything we’ve been through! you looked me in the eye and said you didn’t wanna see me anymore! me! what the fuck am i supposed to do with that?!”

you swallowed hard, refusing to look away, “respect it.”

his eyes flickered, just for a second, like your words landed somewhere that hurt.

“respect it?” his voice lowered, anger cracking through but something even deeper following, “i’ve spent my whole life making sure you were okay. i’ve spent every single day since i was fucking twelve years old thinking about you, about keeping you safe, about showing up for you and the second i fuck up-“

“you didn’t just fuck up once!” a choked sob left you, “you do it all the time, sukuna! you won’t let me live my fucking life and you won’t even admit that maybe-“

you stopped then. you swallowed the words and watched as his face twisted.

maybe you feel for me like i do for you. maybe there’s a reason behind it all.

maybe. maybe. maybe.

“look,” you let out a breath, “i didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“sure as hell feels like it.” he breathed out as you shook your head.

“i came because i know you,” you said softly, “and i know when you’re self-sabotaging. and whether you like it or not, people still need you and people are still counting on you.”

his eyes softened just a fraction at that, barely noticeable but you noticed. you always did.

“you don’t.” he murmured quietly, watching you through his lashes.

your heart stuttered, “that’s not true.”

your eyes never left him, glassy but fierce as you remained firm with your words even through the bone-crushing hurt you felt.

“sukuna,” you stepped forward, “through every fucking bruise and every stupid decision you made, even when you did everything in your power to push me away, to make me hate you, i stayed.”

his eyes flickered with something, jaw clenching as his eyes coated with a sheen you hadn’t seen since you were younger. and he softened.

for the first time, it wasn’t you who caved, it was him. something gentle and regretful took over him and you let out a soft sob.

your chest ached, grief and frustration tangling until you couldn’t tell them apart.

“you’re my best friend, sukuna…” you breathed out, hands falling limp by your sides in utter defeat, “above all else, you really are.”

are. are. he allowed the word to ring through his head, soothing whatever had broken in him a while ago.

he stared at you like he was seeing you clearly for the first time, the wind tugging at him and goosebumps rising along his skin but he didn’t seem to notice at all.

“if i come back,” he said slowly, carefully, “what then?”

and you knew he wasn’t asking about the frat or the team. he was asking about you, about both of you. about whatever you had been nurturing since your younger years.

you hesitated and in that hesitation lived everything he was afraid of.

“that’s not up to me,” you stated finally, “i’m not promising you anything. i just need you to show up and stop running away. for yourself.”

silence settled between you again, heavy and familiar.

then he sighed deeply, like a man who’d been fighting himself for far too long.

“let’s go.” he muttered, turning away toward the path leading up to the house.

your heart jumped, “what?”

was he really listening to you?

“i’ll drive us back in the morning,” he stated gruffly, “it’s cold as balls and it’s gonna snow.”

you stood frozen for a moment, shock but relief and something softer you wouldn’t name washing through you.

“you’ll come back?” you questioned, almost afraid to hear the answer.

he paused, one hand gripping the strap of the duffel you hadn’t seen placed on the sand.

“tomorrow.” he stated, avoiding your gaze as he began moving once more, “right now, i’m hungry and cold and you’re probably starving too.”

you were. you never could eat if you were anxious about something.

you followed him into the house.

☾

the house creaked softly as the heater kicked on, pipes rattling like they were waking up from a long sleep.

outside, the first snow of the season began to fall, light at first then steadier. you watched the flakes tap against the window like hesitant fingers.

you stood by the guest bedroom window, watching the snow fall slowly against the glass.

you had spent the better part of forty minutes in the shower, letting the water run hot until your skin felt warm again.

you found your things easily.

the guest room sukuna’s grandfather deemed as your own holding some of your things that you’d left over the years. soft cotton pajama you’d left behind that summer against your skin. your sheets still smelled faintly of sunscreen and salt, you’d have to change before you slept.

you moved towards the bathroom and completed your skincare, huffing as you looked for a hairbrush for your damp hair.

fuck, you didn’t leave one behind.

you groaned gently as you thought of any other solution that didn’t include asking sukuna.

you hesitated outside his room. the door was already slightly ajar, light spilling into the hall in a warm and low stripe. you told yourself you’d knock anyway. you didn’t.

you watched him, shirtless and only in a pair of grey boxers, move through the room, slow and methodical, like he had all the time in the world.

you gulped softly at the sight of his chiseled chest and arms, so devastatingly handsome. his pink locks were damp and clean, the feel of humidity and smell of sandalwood reaching you.

sukuna moved to stand in front of the mirror, back to you and towel tossed carelessly on the foot of his bed. he was digging through his drawers, muscles shifting under skin that bore too many stories.

his skin was littered with tattoos and scars alike. your heart clenched.

you pushed the door open just a little as watched him. then your head tilted, eyes catching on the ink on his hip bone, low and hidden. a tattoo you’d never seen before.

and you knew every single tattoo he had.

you squinted gently as you tried to catch the small…letters?

as if in a trance, you slipped inside like a cat, quiet and slow as you moved towards the pink haired boy you’d known for a decade.

your eyes were still transfixed on the delicate line of ink, almost out of place on him.

your breath caught so sharply, it hurt.

and when your foot hit a faulty place on the hardwood floor, the creak allowed sukuna to be aware of your presence, looking up immediately as he watched you through the mirror.

“what’re you-“

it was the initial of your first name followed by a little anchor.

your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest, like it’d jump through your skin into his hands, where it had always belonged.

where you had placed it at twelve years old.

your fingers touched his skin before you could even realize that you had entered and sukuna tensed.

“don’t-“

a small gasp left your lips. there it was.

your initial with a tiny anchor. your eyes weren’t deceiving you.

a long few seconds passed before you glanced up to finally meet his gaze.

“when did you-” you practically gasped out the words, gulping gently.

“after the fire.” his words were almost quiet and tears filled your eyes.

an anchor. his anchor.

your chest caved inward.

“for me?” you whispered, even though you already knew.

his laugh was breathless, bitter and soft, “who else?”

silence swallowed the room.

you felt like you were standing at the edge of something vast and dangerous and achingly familiar.

“i didn’t know ab-” your voice broke, “you never told me.”

“didn’t think i needed to.” he finally met your gaze, hand moving to touch your wrist as your fingers still lightly pressed against the skin of his hip, “you’re the reason i’m still here, i never hid that.”

your name left him then, soft and definitive in a way you could barely stomach.

your hand fell away like you’d burned yourself.

sukuna’s eyes were dark, unreadable, searching your face like he was trying to memorize it all over again. as if it wasn’t all he saw and all he knew anyways.

you had no words for the overwhelming amount of emotions inside you, pushing and coming in waves as you tried to calm yourself.

you panicked then panicked even more, “i should go.”

you went to turn when sukuna’s hand clasped over your wrist, “stay.”

your eyes met his once more. the snow thickened outside, blanketing the house in quiet.

the air was thick between you as your eyes never left his, urging and quiet as your mind processed everything. everything from a week ago to now.

you didn’t remember moving. only that the space between you was suddenly gone.

it wasn’t romantic. there was no sharp inhale, no declaration and no moment where one of you decided anything.

it was simple.

one second you were standing there, hearts thundering loud enough to drown out everything and the next, you were against him.

you didn’t know who leaned in first, only that you were kissing ryomen sukuna.

your lips pressed against his in one motion, lips soft against his slightly chapped ones.

it was soft at first, unmoving as if you were both trying to register what was happening. hesitant in the way people are when they’ve wanted something for so long, they’re afraid it might vanish if they move too fast.

then his hand came up, slow and reverent as his fingers slid into your damp hair like he’d memorized the weight of it in his dreams alone.

then it began.

a heavy groan left him and sounded against your lips as his other hand now slid into your hair, gripping and maneuvering your head to tilt and meet his lips deeper.

a low moan left you as your lips moved against his, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip, making you whimper gently.

your fingers pressed against his abdomen at the same moment his fingers tightened in your hair, grounding and trembling. the world narrowed down to the warmth between you, snow pressing softly against the windows.

everything you’d never said lived in that kiss.

every night you’d stayed.

every time he’d pulled back.

every stupid ounce of hope you’d held onto like a life raft.

then reality crashed in.

you were kissing ryomen sukuna. your ryomen sukuna.

you pulled away with a gasp, breaths uneven and doe eyes wide as you stared at him like you’d just crossed a line you couldn’t uncross.

“oh my god…” you whispered gently, chest heaving as your mind ran with thoughts you wanted to quiet. ones you didn’t want to face.

sukuna didn’t move.

his lips were swollen, chest heaving and eyes locked on yours like he was afraid to blink. like if he did, you’d disappear.

then his hands tightened against your hair, one moving down to your back and just like that, he was pulling you against him, rough and desperate, like his restraint had finally snapped.

years and years of waiting and hoping poured into that kiss.

his lips moved feverishly against yours, fast and desperate as you tried to keep up, lips wet from his own ministrations.

he groaned against you, tongue parting your lips and colliding with your own.

you whimpered against him as his hands moved to your thighs. he leaned down and you needed no more direction. his big hands gripped the plush of your thighs as he pulled you up against him, your legs wrapped around his hips as his hands travelled up and down your body, resting on the plush of your ass.

his mouth was crashing against yours with hunger, over and over again, groans and moans leaving both your lips. the kiss was messy, teeth knocking and breathing shared too fast. years of denial and need burned white hot.

your hand found the nape of his neck, the other tugging at his pink locks as his growl vibrated against your lips, low and broken, and you felt it everywhere.

“fuck, fuck…” sukuna murmured against you, his first words since the beginning of your kiss. he had so much to say but saying something meant pulling away and he couldn’t.

physically and mentally, he couldn’t. pulling away wasn’t an option, not when he’d wanted this for so long, his chest ached.

“kuna…” you whispered against his lips as sukuna groaned, allowing you to catch your breath as his lips left hot and wet kisses down the skin of your jaw, your neck, your collarbones then back up.

“look at me…” he demanded, low and so him, you felt your entire body react.

you complied, doe eyes gazing up at him through your lashes, half-lidded and absolutely gone.

his eyes almost rolled to the back of his head with need, hands moving up to grip your cheeks, his touch a gentle contrast to the desperation in his movements.

he couldn’t take it anymore, moving again as his lips met yours, his boxers significantly tightening and his chest burned with need.

his legs moved before his mind could catch up, adamant to not pull away from you as you met his desperation head-on.

your tongue swiped against his lip then your teeth sunk into the swell as he groaned lewdly.

“fuck, baby, you’re killing me.” he groaned as his knees hit the edge of the bed causing you to drop against the plush of the mattress, chest heaving as you watched him. he stood by the end of the bed, all muscle and need.

for years, he’d dreamed of this exact moment. for years, you'd hoped he’d see you the way you saw him.

memories and history so deep between you both. wanting, hoping, dreaming and everything in between.

“please…” your words were breathless as you spoke, practically teary as you tilted your head, resting back on your elbows to gaze up at him. “ryo…”

he was fucking gone for you, so deeply infatuated, he could barely see straight.

he was atop you again, eyes on yours as his breath tickled your lips.

“what do you want, angel?” he whispered against you as you moaned gently, hips bucking to meet his, “i’ll give you anything you want, you just gotta tell me.”

a huff left your lips. fuck, you were out of it.

sukuna pressed wet kisses against your swollen lips, small pecks as he urged you to speak.

your hands moved to grip his cheeks, pulling him in fully as you deepened the kiss once more.

sukuna allowed it for a moment, two before pulling back.

“nah, baby…” he murmured against you as you breathed against him, “i’ve dreamed of this for too long for you not to tell me you want me…”

you whined against his lips, nose brushing against his as he smirked against you.

“fuck, you’re everything, you’re fucking it for me,” he pecked your lips once, twice, three times before forcing himself away, “tell me you want me, brat. tell me you want me like i fuckin’ want you.”

you shook your head against his as he immediately nodded, “yeah, tell me, baby. cmon, use your words and i’ll give you anything you want, you know i will, i always do.”

it was a moment suspended in time, a moment where the rush and need and desperation slowed.

for just a moment, your eyes met sukuna’s, wide and a little unsure.

a moment where you’d finally realized what was happening, where it had dawned on you that you were kissing your ryo.

the boy you’d known most of your life. the boy you’d felt for since you were a teenager.

and sukuna was absolutely insatiable. this had to be what it feels like getting everything you’d wished for.

you felt like a dream.

his forehead dipped to yours, breath hot and uneven, nose brushing your own like he was grounding himself.

as if he was afraid you’d vanish if he didn’t stay close enough.

you felt it then, you swore you did.

not just how badly he wanted you but how long he had.

your fingers tremble where they rested against his chest, right over his heart.

“want you, ryo…”

his eyes darkened a fraction, hands tightening against you and his nostrils flared.

fuck fuck fuck.

he devoured you then, not rushed or frantic. but like he’d finally stopped holding himself back, like he’d finally accepted that this was real and wasn’t a fucked up figment of his deepest dreams and desires.

this was you. his you. wanting him just as much as he wanted you.

and he felt every restraint he’d ever built around you crumbling all at once.

his hands found you with certainty, palms warm and grounding against your cheeks as his lips moved with intention. your breath tangled with his, fingers clutching at bare skin, at familiarity, at something that felt inevitable in the most terrifying way.

years collapsed between heartbeats.

you pulled away to haphazardly take your cotton tank top off, allowing the fabric to collect on the floor.

his eyes darted to your breasts as you gulped gently.

“fuck…” it seemed to be the only thing he could say as he peppered kisses down the bare skin of your flushed neck to the skin of your collarbones to the tops of your breasts before looking up at you through his lashes, “prettiest fuckin’ thing i’ve ever seen…”

you moaned softly, fingers tangling against his pink locks as you tugged him up once more to meet your lips.

his hand descended down and further down, thumb now caressing your hipbone and when you bucked, he slipped his hands into your soft shorts and you gasped.

“ryo…”

“i know, baby, lemme feel you…” his other hand pulled your shorts down and they met your shirt on the floor.

you gasped against him as you felt his fingers touch you where no one ever had before.

“k-kuna, i-‘ive never-“ you whispered against him, almost frantic and he moved to pepper kisses against your face.

“shh, i know, baby…” you fingers continued their ministrations, gentler maybe but still overwhelming as you watched him with glassy doe eyes, “it’s just me, yeah?”

you nodded against him as his fingers brushed your most sensitive spot, watching with eyes so dark as your head fell back against the pillows, so utterly overwhelmed in the best way possible.

“feel good, baby?” his voice was low, deep and dark. he was practically buzzing with need, trembling to finally feel you but he knew he had to go slow.

“feels r-really good, kuna…”

his eyes shut tight, your mere voice almost pushing him over the edge.

fuck fuck fuck.

sukuna was absolutely gone, he was gone.

he groaned against you over and over as he continued to touch and prod and push, his mere touch sending you over the edge, trembling and whimpering against him.

“you okay, baby?” his hand, still wet, caressed the skin of your side as you tried to catch your breath.

“mhmm.” you simply hummed, eyes shut and so insanely pretty, it had his heart clenching.

“never touched yourself, brat?” his voice was soft, almost coaxing as you kept your eyes shut but heat found its way to your cheeks and he knew the answer. something animalistic in him snapped then.

fuck, he loved that he was the only one who’d made you feel this way.

“m’tired, ryo…” you murmured against him as he kissed you repeatedly, soft kisses that had your heart fluttering, kisses you didn’t think ryomen sukuna was capable of.

he chuckled against you, low and deep as he kissed your cheek softly, your eyes still shut and breathing slowing more and more.

he couldn’t even blame you.

he continued to touch you softly, caressing your skin to coax you to sleep, lips never leaving your face for more than a second as he littered soft kisses against you.

and later, much later, the house was silent except for the wind rattling against the windows and low, steady sounds of your breathing against his chest.

you lay tangled together, warmth pressed to warmth, his arm heavy around your back, moving uo and down your spine like an anchor. somehow, you had laid fully atop him, one leg tangled against his own while the other hooked uno and around his hip. he didn’t mind. not even a little.

he couldn’t sleep, fingers absentmindedly tracing the same familiar patterns along your soft skin he’d traced a hundred time before, only now, there was nothing between you at all.

sleep took him gently then and he reluctantly succumbed. he didn’t want to face tomorrow or your possible regret. he didn’t want this to be a blip in your relationship.

he wouldn’t let it be. not again.

☾

“don’t! don’t go, please!”

sukuna kept walking, quick and heavy, down the sidewak, ignoring your pleading. off to god knows where.

“sukuna! ryo, please-“

he spun around to face you then, eyes wild and frantic and so utterly broken.

wide with pain he’d known for far too long.

“i can’t! i can’t stay, fuck, goddamnit, i can’t do it anymore!” his foot kicked against a tree.

you let out a sob, you had already been crying, face flush with tears, cheeks hot and eyes bloodshot.

“y-you have to! you have to, ryo-“

sukuna scoffed then, hands moving to his hair, gripping and harshly pulling till his scalp pricked with pain that amounted to nothing compared to what he was used to at a mere sixteen years old.

“fuck that shit! i can’t fuckin’ take it anymore!” he practically yelled then, tears pricking his eyes as he watched you fall apart. his chest clenched with so much emotion, he thought he’d die right there.

you sobbed and sobbed, moving forward to grip his sweater, as if your touch alone would keep him here. with you.

your eyes caught his own, the skin around blue and black causing your chest to cave in.

“i know, i know, ryo-“

“you don’t know shit!” your name left him with anguish, not angry, not even bitter, but utterly devastated. “y’don’t know…y’don’t know what it’s like…”

and you didn’t. you knew you didn’t. you didn’t know what it’s like to wake up and go to sleep in a home where the walls continuously closed in. where silence felt safer than sound, where pain met you at every corner.

but fuck, if you didn’t try to help. if you didn’t try to take some of that pain away. he had to know that.

his chest heaved as he looked down at you, shaking his head as your tears fell with each breath.

“w-what about yuji?” you sobbed against him, eyes looking up at him with so much sorrow, “what about me?”

he let out a choked sob then, “what about me?! what about me?!”

he snapped, your name leaving his lips as a cry.

you paused then. what about him?

your fingers loosened against his sweater as you watched him sob, tears of utter heartache leaving him like shallow breaths.

“what about me?” he breathed out finally as you took a step back, cries dying down like you’d been hit by a truck.

the tears fell without sound as you gazed upon your pink haired friend, the broken boy who you’d tried to make whole with every piece of you.

with a small nod, your hands clenched at your sides, gazing down in surrender.

sukuna was taken aback by your dejection, by your acceptance of his leaving.

he should be grateful and maybe he was.

but there was something that overpowered any semblance of relief in him.

the thought of leaving you.

he couldn’t, could he?

his eyes met your own, chest heaving with effort as your doe eyes watched him, heartbreak painting your pretty features.

your eyes watched him like you’d already grieved him. like you’d buried what you’d had because it was too painful to think about.

“okay…” the word left your lips, barely classifying as a whisper if he wasn’t so in tune with you.

he gulped softly, eyes assessing you like this was some sick joke and you’d call the cops to find him as soon as he left. “go, kuna. i won’t stop you.”

his head tilted, heart thundering and breaking all at once. it was some twisted fate, he was sure.

he wondered what it’d be like in another life.

if he wasn’t such a charity case, if he wasn’t a broken mess. would he be good enough then?

would he be worthy enough?

memories flashed like some sick film, of you and him. of you.

his constant. his anchor.

he let out a sob as the thought of leaving actually dawned on him and you watched him break.

but he had to. he wanted to.

right?

as if a switch flipped, he forced himself to breathe, to calm down and he stopped crying.

his eyes were still bloodshot, he was still trembling but he willed himself steady.

sukuna nodded once, eyes meeting yours once more and he felt something crawl up his throat again.

fuck, he hoped he wouldn’t ever forget your eyes. if he would lose all his memories, if he’d never remember a thing from his miserable goddamn life, please, let him not forget your eyes. or your voice.

as a soft sob left your lips, you watched him turn, eyes never leaving his back as he walked away, your heart fracturing more and more with every step.

then he stopped.

your breath hitched as he turned around once more, jaw clenched as he watched you from further away. had he changed his mind?

please please please.

he moved towards you then, steps quick as he stopped before you, your eyes gazing up at him with that same damn hope he thought he’d killed a long time ago.

“take care of yuji, yeah?” your heart broke as you bit your lip to hold in a sob, nodding nonetheless, “tell him i loved him, okay?”

a sob left you then as you nodded frantically, pleads at the tip of your tongue once more.

sukuna nodded at your agreement, eyes glassy with tears that would fall as soon as he turned.

he leaned down and kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek.

“tell yourself i loved you most, brat.”

it was a whisper against your ear.

and your heart had split in two.

you barely registered the soft kiss against your lips, quick, as if he himself didn’t think before doing it.

your first kiss.

you didn’t even see his face properly before he’d already turned around and walked away.

and he’d left you standing there, hand to your chest where your heart thumped but split in half.

and he’d regret that night for the rest of his life.

☾

ahhh this one was super packed + sad, lowk need to write for the gojo series now for a break 😔😔

also omg sukuna and reader are so ribs coded it makes me sick lowk (kinda wanna make a playlist for them)

i hope u guys liked it, pls lmk what u thinkkkk as always!!!

miiroki

Sweet as the Harvest ┅ 𝖥𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗋! 𝖲𝗎𝗄𝗎𝗇𝖺 𝖱𝗒𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇 & 𝖶𝗂𝖿𝖾! 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝘉𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘶𝘬𝘶𝘯𝘢’𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴, 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

﹙𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹚

one: ✶ two: ✶ three: ✶ four: ✶

WARNING: nsfw, explicit scenes.

NOTE: here I am feeding my hungry children who yearn for farmer Sukuna.

That night, after the house finally went quiet, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed, broad back turned toward you as he tugged his work shirt over his head. The fabric peeled away slowly, revealing skin still warm from the day’s heat and muscles that shifted with every small movement.

He froze when he noticed you watching.

“What?” he muttered, tossing the shirt aside.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms folded loosely.

“You’ve been acting weird since earlier.”

“I haven’t.”

“You have.”

He grunted, clearly aware he’d been caught, but too stubborn to admit it. The mattress dipped as you climbed onto the bed behind him, your fingers brushing lightly across his shoulder blades.

The reaction was immediate. His entire body tensed, breath catching as your nails traced the faint scars scattered across his back, little reminders of years spent working harder than anyone else.

“You do that on purpose,” he rasped.

“Do what?”

“You touch me like that and then pretend you don’t know what you’re doing.”

You smiled against his skin, pressing yourself closer.

“Maybe I just like how you react.”

Sukuna huffed, but his hand came up to catch your wrist, calloused fingers wrapping around it as he pulled you around to face him. His gaze dropped to your lips for just a moment before he forced himself to meet your eyes.

“You said maybe,” he said quietly. “Earlier.”

Your heart fluttered.

“About a baby.”

His voice was rough, uncertain in a way that didn’t match the intimidating farmer everyone else knew. It was just Sukuna now, your husband, the man who gets flustered when you kiss his cheek in public.

You nodded slowly. “I mean it.”

Something in his expression softened so deeply it almost hurt to look at. He reached up, cupping your face with one large hand, thumb brushing your cheekbone with surprising gentleness.

“…Then we shouldn’t waste time,” he murmured.

Heat rushed up your neck.

“Sukuna-”

He kissed you before you could finish, the motion clumsy at first, but was soon replaced with unyielding hunger. His lips were warm and a little rough, but the way he held you, like prey, made your stomach flip.

You giggled softly when his nose bumped yours.

He scowled. “Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” you whispered, leaning in again. “You’re just…very serious about this.”

“I’m serious about everything that involves you.”

The words hung between you, heavy and honest.

This time when he kissed you, there was nothing clumsy about it. His hand slid down to your waist, pulling you onto his lap like you weighed nothing. The mattress creaked under the sudden shift, and you squeaked in surprise, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Careful,” you murmured, though you made no move to get off.

His breath fanned across your collarbone as he nuzzled closer, voice low. “You said you wanted one.”

Your face burned.

“…You’re impossible.”

“And you married me anyway.”

You couldn’t argue with that, even when he has you with your legs resting on his shoulders, and the fat head of his cock lined up, nudging at your entrance.

Your mouth opens in a quiet scream as he sinks in, his thrust looong and slow.

“That’s it–got you right where I want ya…” He grumbles into your ankle, giving it small kisses in between.

His slow and sensuous rhythm didn't last long, and soon he was going at a violent pace. The lewd sounding wet plaps of your skin meeting each other bounced off the walls of the room.

Your hair and everything else is a tangled mess of pleasure and sweat.

“K-kuna…slow down-” He was fucking you stupid.

He ignored your plea and flipped you up, straddling him. “Can’t mama, gotta do my husband duties right?” From his position looking up at your trembling form, he wrapped his hands around your waist, the same hands you can't help but imagine holding a small baby one day, your baby. Maybe five or six, however many Sukuna will let you have.

Sukuna groans and tightens his grip, bringing you back to reality from your daydream. “Your pussy’s tightening too much, relax baby you might snap my dick in half.”

“Oh…m’sorry”

“Shh…jus’ let me do all the work, you just sit there and take it hm?”

He starts snapping his hips up, while his hold around you works hard to bring you down. He’s hitting the spongey spot inside you, making your eyes roll back.

His grunts don’t stop, and neither do his thrusts. “Can’t quit early wife, gotta make sure you milk me dry.”

You whine at his words, and by the end of multiple sessions your cunny is brimming with his cum, and your legs tremble closed trying to keep it all from flowing out. Although his fat finger that was constantly pushing the mix of fluids back in was doing a better job.

–

The days that followed were filled with stolen glances, lingering touches, and quiet moments that felt charged with a new kind of anticipation.

Sukuna started coming inside earlier from the fields, claiming he needed to “check on things in the house,” though you both knew the chores could wait. He’d corner you in the kitchen while you were washing dishes, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pressing his face into your neck like he needed the contact just to get through the day.

Toji noticed, of course.

“You look tired,” he drawled one evening, eyeing Sukuna’s slightly disheveled appearance. “Not sleeping well?”

Sukuna choked on his drink while you nearly dropped the serving spoon.

Yuji blinked between you both, completely oblivious.

“Uncle, your face is red.”

“It’s the heat s’all,” Sukuna snapped, even though the sun had already set.

–

One afternoon, while the boys were down by the creek and Toji had gone back to his own property, you found Sukuna in the barn stacking feed bags.

Dust floated through the slanted sunlight, settling over his hair and shoulders. He looked up when you stepped inside, eyes softening immediately at the sight of you.

“You shouldn’t be in here love,” he said automatically. “It’s dirty, you're gonna get dust in your eyes.”

You ignored him, walking straight up and tugging lightly on the front of his shirt.

“You said we shouldn’t waste time,” you reminded him shyly.

His breath hitched.

The barn was quiet except for the distant buzz of insects and the faint rustle of hay. Sukuna stared down at you for a long moment, like he was trying to memorize every detail of your face.

“…You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered.

“Probably,” you agreed sweetly.

He groaned softly before pulling you into him, large hands settling on your hips as he lifted you onto a nearby bale of hay. The motion was practiced, years of farm work making you feel featherlight in his grasp.

The world outside seemed to fade away, replaced by the warm scent of straw and the steady thud of his heartbeat under your palm as he lifted your dress over your waist and saw the sweet sticky mess he left inside of you that morning.

“Women, you'll kill me one day.” He groaned into the kiss.

“W-what do you…mh…mean?” You say back, feverishly kissing him.

“Nothin’ just spread those legs nice and wide for me yeah?”

The harvest season was still weeks away, but already, something new was beginning to grow. If the fucking marathon wasn’t enough to insinuate that.

Taglist: @cookispark @sukunasl-ttywh0re @ssrist

miiroki

Sweet as the Harvest ┅ 𝖥𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗋! 𝖲𝗎𝗄𝗎𝗇𝖺 𝖱𝗒𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇 & 𝖶𝗂𝖿𝖾! 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

﹙𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹚

two: ✶ three: ✶ four: ✶

NOTE: I’m so down bad for this man 😋 just gimme one day alone with him fr. This is just something short lol lmk if you guys want more details of our lovely couple.

The first thing everyone in town noticed after Sukuna got married was that he smiled now.

Not the usual crooked, sharp grin he used when bargaining with suppliers or scaring off competitors. It morphed into something warmer, into something only a loving husband could have. A quiet curl of his lips that only really showed itself when you were nearby, tucked into the crook of his arm or trailing behind him in the marketplace with a basket hooked over your elbow.

Ryomen Sukuna had always been a big man—broad shoulders carved from years of hauling crates, forearms corded with muscle from tilling soil and hauling irrigation pipes under the summer sun. Ever since boyhood all he’s known is the growing ache of his muscles. His presence alone could silence a rowdy bar. Kids used to scatter when they saw him walking down the road.

Now they stared instead, whispering and giggling as he slowed his long strides just to match yours.

“You don’t need to carry that,” he muttered one afternoon, already reaching for the basket of fresh peaches you’d insisted on holding.

“I can carry fruit, Sukuna,” you huffed, trying to keep your grip. “I’m not made of glass.”

He pried the basket from your hands anyway, fingers brushing your knuckles. The moment your skin touched, his ears went faintly pink, and he cleared his throat, suddenly fascinated by a cloud in the distance.

“Please hun.” he whispered. With his silent plea, how could you not relent the basket to him

The shopkeeper behind the stall snorted.

“Honeymoon phase’s hitting you hard, Sukuna.”

Sukuna glared, but his hand slipped around yours as you walked away, calloused thumb rubbing slow circles into your palm.

–

Back at the farm, the air smelled of the familiar scent of the warm earth and ripening tomatoes. Rows of green stretched as far as you could see, leaves fluttering lazily in the breeze. Sukuna’s land was the pride of the region, everyone knew his produce was the best, plumper and sweeter than anything grown in neighboring towns. Restaurants fought over his deliveries, and caterers practically begged for his strawberries and herbs whenever it was in season.

He never bragged about it, the demand just seemed to make him work harder.

Especially now.

You found him in the fields most mornings before sunrise, white shirt already damp with sweat, muscles flexing as he hoisted crates onto the back of his truck. The first time you’d come out in your sleep set, wearing your fuzzy slipper, rubbing your eyes and offering him a thermos of tea, he’d nearly dropped a box of cucumbers on his foot.

“You shouldn’t be out here hun,” he’d grumbled, eyes refusing to meet the bare stretch of your legs. “You’ll catch a chill.” His arms wrap around your waist while his other hand wipes his forehead with the towel around his shoulder.

“It’s summer,” you laughed, pressing the thermos into his hands. “And I wanted to see you before you left.”

He’d stared at you like you’d just confessed something life-changing, then reached out awkwardly, thumb brushing the inside of your wrist.

You’d barely grazed his skin.

He’d gone still completely, utterly still before melting like butter in the sun, shoulders relaxing, expression softening in a way you were starting to realize only you ever saw.

–

By midsummer, your quiet farm had become lively in a way it never had before.

Toji Fushiguro, your closest neighbor, had taken to dropping by in the evenings with his wife and their three-year-old son, Megumi. Toji was one of the few men who’d never been intimidated by Sukuna; he leaned against your porch railing like he owned the place, sipping beer and smirking while the two of them argued over crop prices and weather forecasts.

Megumi toddled after you constantly, small fingers clinging to the hem of your dress.

“‘Kuna’s scary,” he whispered once, peeking around your leg as Sukuna stomped in from the fields, boots caked with dirt.

Sukuna froze mid-step, clearly having heard him.

You crouched, gently guiding Megumi’s little hand toward Sukuna’s.

“He’s only scary to people who steal his pumpkins.”

Megumi blinked up at Sukuna, then pressed his tiny palm against Sukuna’s huge one.

Sukuna’s entire face went blank, completely unreadable. Then, slowly, carefully, he closed his fingers just enough to hold the child’s hand without crushing it.

Toji nearly choked on his drink laughing.

–

The real chaos arrived when his nephews came to stay for the summer.

Yuji burst through the front door like a hurricane, all sunshine smiles and loud greetings, immediately hugging you. Choso followed behind, a quieter boy but equally affectionate, offering to help with anything around the house or fields.

Within days, the farm was filled with shouting, running feet, and the sound of boys arguing over who got the last slice of watermelon.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart ache a little, in a wonderful way.

One afternoon, you stood on the porch watching Yuji chase Megumi through the yard while Choso set up a crooked sprinkler that sprayed water in uneven arcs. Their laughter carried across the fields, bright and infectious.

Sukuna stepped up behind you, a glass of cold lemonade in his hand. His shadow swallowed yours where it fell across the wooden boards.

“You’re staring too much,” he said gruffly, offering you the drink.

“They’re cute,” you replied, resting your shoulder against his arm. “Your family is so loud.”

“They’re pests,” he muttered, but there was no real bite to it.

You watched Yuji scoop Megumi up, spinning him until both of them collapsed into the grass, giggling.

“…It feels nice, though,” you added softly.

Sukuna went quiet.

His fingers twitched at his side, then lifted, hesitating before settling on your lower back. The touch was careful, almost shy, for someone who could lift a hay bale like it weighed nothing.

“…You want one?” he asked suddenly, voice rougher than usual.

You blinked, turning your head to look at him. “One what?”

He gestured vaguely with his nose towards the yard, ears turning red.

“A kid. One of our own.”

Your heart skipped.

You hadn’t expected him to say it so bluntly, but this was Sukuna after all, a man who struggled to say “I love you” without looking like he’d swallowed a rock.

“You’d be a scary dad,” you teased gently.

He scoffed. “I’d be a great dad.”

“You’d intimidate their friends. Goodness knows what you’d do if we ever have a baby girl”

“They shouldn’t be weak enough to get scared by a glare.”

You laughed, and the sound seemed to soften something in his chest. His arm slid around your waist more confidently now, pulling you closer until your back pressed against his front.

“…If you want one,” he repeated more quietly, lips near your ear, “we can try, it’s not like we already aren’t.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks.

Down in the yard, Yuji shouted as the sprinkler tipped over and soaked him entirely, Megumi squealing in delight, his earlier efforts of trying to not wet his new shorts forgotten. Choso groaned and chased after them with a towel.

You leaned back into Sukuna, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

“…Maybe we should,” you murmured.

Sukuna’s breath hitched.

The toughest farmer in three counties, feared by suppliers and admired by chefs, nearly dropped the sweating glass of lemonade in his hand.

Then he buried his face in your hair, arms tightening around you like you were something fragile and precious and entirely his.

“Good,” he muttered, voice thick. “Real good.”

And out in the fields, under the wide summer sky, the crops swayed gently in the breeze, fat and thriving, just like everything Sukuna had built for the life the two of you were growing together, and soon the big house will feel much smaller with more bodies.

Taglist: @cookispark @sukunasl-ttywh0re

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