𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor true form! sukuna x concubine! reader headcanons!! wc. 2k ; cw. a bit suggestive koi speaks! hehehe sukuna 😋
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor!sukuna who barely even glanced at you the day you were brought to his palace in chains. another trembling offering from some pathetic village hoping to buy his favor? boring. you were shoved to your knees before his throne, wrists raw from the ropes, and you didn't even dare to look up at him, just stared at the cold stone floor with tears clinging to your lashes. it was almost pathetic, how terrified you were of him.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor!sukuna who didn't touch you for months. not because he was being kind—sukuna doesn't do kind—but because watching you slowly relax around him was more entertaining than any forced submission. at first you'd shake whenever he entered a room, pressing yourself against the nearest wall like you could melt through it. but slowly, so slowly, those big innocent doe eyes finally started to meet his vibrant red ones. he caught you peeking at him during court once, and when your gazes met, you ducked behind a pillar so fast he actually laughed aloud. the entire court froze. sukuna never laughed.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor!sukuna who has a habit of touching the small of your back. just a hand, warm and heavy, settling there when he passes you in the halls or stands beside you at court. it's not possessive—well, it is possessive (not that he'd ever admit it), but that's not the point. the first time he did it, you practically jumped out of your skin. now? now you lean into it slightly, just a fraction, and he pretends not to notice the way your shoulders relax under his palm.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor!sukuna who says "come here, little one." that's all he says, voice low and rough, and you're already moving toward him before your brain catches up. you hate how your body obeys him so easily. you hate the way your heart stutters when he calls you that. but most of all, you hate that he knows, you can see it in the way his lips curl up just slightly under the palace lights, when you settle next to him, one of his four arms snaking around your waist and resting on your hip.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor!sukuna who likes spoils you with lavish gifts. it first starts with small boxes filled with hairpins. they were delicate and intricate, jade and pearl and something that looks suspiciously like diamonds scattered across their length. others were shaped with flowers on the head of the pin, dusted with gold and glitter. another box holds earrings that make your ears feel unworthy. a necklace with a rose quartz the size of your thumbnail rests in the last one, glimmering against your skin. soon they gifts became more extravagant to the point that a chest arrives at your chambers, carried by two servants who struggle under its weight. inside: silk. mountains of it. rolls of fabric so fine they slip through your fingers like water, in colors you didn't even know existed: sunset oranges, deep crimsons, gold that catches the light and holds it hostage.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor!sukuna who doesn't give gifts for gratitude, he gives them to see. he wants to watch the silk drape across your shoulders, wants to see the way light dances off the gems at your throat and ears, wants to watch the hairpins adorn your beautiful locks. one evening, he summons you to his chambers and you come dressed in the softest pink silk he sent, the rose quartz necklace resting against your collarbone. he doesn't speak for a long moment, just looks at you with those ancient, unreadable eyes. then he's crossing the room in two strides, one hand softly weaving into your hair, tilting your head back. "this," he says placing one of his hands on your waist, fingers digging into the soft silk, "looks better here than it did in the box." his other hand finds your waist, pulling you flush against him. "but i'm starting to think it'd look even better on the floor." you don't wear those pink silks for a week after. not because you didn't like them, but because every time you try, your face burns too hot to leave your chambers.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor!sukuna who's other concubines despise you. you're quiet, you're shy, you don't scheme or claw your way to his attention, and somehow that makes you his favorite anyway. they have been forgotten and replaced by the timid peasant village girl.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor!sukuna who doesn't ask for things. he takes. so when he starts keeping you in his chambers at night, just sleeping, just your small form curled beside his massive one, it's not a request. but, he notices the way you burrow closer when the palace grows cold, the way your fingers curl in his sleeping robes like you're afraid he'll disappear. and one night, when you whimper softly in your sleep (a nightmare, probably about the chains, about the village that gave you up, he would have to make sure that the village was adequately punished for their deeds), he pulls you against his chest and rumbles something unintelligible against your hair. you don't wake. but you stop trembling.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor!sukuna who has you sit on his lap during meetings. it happens mid-meeting. you're standing in your usual spot behind his throne, trying to be invisible, when his lower right hand reaches back and curls around your wrist. before you can process what's happening, you're being tugged forward and down, deposited unceremoniously onto his thigh like you weigh nothing. his upper arms continue holding his brush, signing documents like this is perfectly normal. his lower hands settle on your waist—one splayed across your hip, the other resting just below your ribs, thumbs pressing gently into the silk covering your stomach.
the entire court stares at him in shock. you stare at the floor, certain you're about to combust.
"continue," sukuna says flatly, and the meeting resumes as if the emperor doesn't currently have a trembling concubine in his lap. you sit frozen, barely breathing, hyperaware of the heat of him beneath you and the weight of his hands on your waist. occasionally, his thumbs move small, idle circles against the silk and you have to bite your lip to stay silent.
after that first time, it becomes routine. any meeting, any audience, any time he wants you nearby, you end up in his lap. his lower hands find your waist automatically now, like they belong there. sometimes he'll pull you closer during a particularly boring report, tucking you against his chest while his upper arms handle business. sometimes his thumbs trace patterns on your hips that have nothing to do with patience, circles that get slower, deeper, until you're squirming just slightly and he has to tighten his grip to keep you still. "behave," he'll murmur against your hair, but there's a smirk in his voice that makes your stomach flip.
and sometimes, when someone says something particularly stupid, you feel his grip tighten on your waist, crinkling into the newly bought silks he bought for you, before he destroys them with words alone.
you've stopped trying to hide your burning face. it's useless anyway.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor!sukuna who one time, during a particularly long council meeting, his lower hands started wandering. just slightly, one sliding up your ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of your breast through the silk. you made a sound. a tiny, embarrassing sound that you immediately tried to cover with a cough. sukuna's upper hands didn't even pause in their writing, but his lower ones squeezed, a warning, a promise, a later, and you spent the rest of the meeting trying to remember how to breathe normally.
that night, you understood exactly what "later" exactly meant.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor!sukuna who another time, he had you sit facing him. on his lap. in front of the entire court. your legs on either side of his thighs, your face buried in his neck because you couldn't look anyone in the eye. and also because if you looked down, you'd see exactly how much he was enjoying having you this close. his lower hands rested on your hips, fingers occasionally dipping just beneath the hem of your robes to trace circles on bare skin. his upper hands continued running the kingdom like nothing was happening.
you didn't hear a single word of that meeting. you were too busy trying not to make any sounds that would give you away. afterward, in his chambers, he told you exactly how proud he was of you for being so quiet. then he made sure you weren't quiet at all.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor!sukuna who one night, after a particularly long day of meetings, you're still in his lap in his private study. the documents are finished, the servants have retreated, and it's just you and him in the flickering candlelight. you're half-asleep, cheek pressed to his chest, and his lower hands have gone slack on your waist. but then one hand moves, sliding up, tangling in your hair, tilting your face toward his.
"you wear my gifts," he says, voice rough. "you sit in my lap. you sleep in my bed. i have gotten rid of all the other concubines." his thumb traces your lower lip. "do you know what that means, little one?"
you nod, because you do. because you've known for a while now.
"good." and then he's kissing you. it's deep and slow, like he has all the time in the world. when he pulls back, you're breathless and dizzy and your hairpins are definitely crooked. "mine," he murmurs against your lips, and you've never heard a word sound so much like a claim.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor!sukuna who makes you empress and watches the court riot. a sacrificed village girl? a trembling little thing who can barely look anyone in the eye? sukuna listens to their protests with an expression of utter boredom, one lower hand resting on the small of your back, while the other stays wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to his side. you're trying very hard to become one with the floor, but he won't let you shrink away—his grip keeps you anchored against him. when the objections finally die down, he simply says: "she stays. or i start executing people. your choice."
you're pretty sure half the court wets themselves. you're also pretty sure sukuna finds this hilarious.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor!sukuna who, now that you're empress, still has you sit in his lap during meetings. it's not even questioned anymore. his lower hands find your waist automatically, and sometimes—when the discussion gets particularly heated—you feel his thumbs slip just slightly beneath the hem of your robes, tracing circles on bare skin. you've learned to keep your face neutral. mostly. and sometimes, when his hands start wandering and you shift just slightly—rock your hips back against him, just a tiny movement, just enough that only he can feel it—his grip tightens immediately, his breath hitching almost imperceptibly. then his voice gets that particular edge when he dismisses the court early. "everyone out. now." you never make it back to the chambers. the throne room has a door. it locks.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor!sukuna who sometimes, in the middle of the night, you wake up and find him just… watching you. not in a creepy way, but in a way that makes your chest ache. like he's never had anything worth watching before. "what?" you whisper, voice sleepy. "nothing." his thumb traces your cheek. "just looking." you bury your face in his chest, hiding your blush. his arms tighten around you, and you feel his lips press against the top of your head. "sleep, little one." you do. because for the first time in your life, you feel safe enough to.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ emperor!sukuna who says "come, my empress." and you go. you always go. and when you settle in his lap, face hidden against his chest, his four arms close around you like you're something precious—something worth keeping. "mine," he murmurs against your hair, and his hands are already finding their favorite places—your waist, your hip, the small of your back, your neck tilting your face toward his. and when he kisses you, slow and deep and claiming, you forget that you were ever a sacrifice at all. you're his. and that's the only thing that matters.