fluff ♡ part of my true form!sukuna x his fave chubby concubine series, more here !!
"brat, do not ignore me," sukuna grumbles, watching you saunter around your chambers doing various tasks, avoiding speaking to him at all.
if there’s one thing sukuna doesn’t like, basically everything, it’s being ignored. especially by you. in your defence, he’d been away a lot recently, leaving you bored and lonely. you figured a little silent treatment couldn’t hurt…
"you’ve been warned, woman. speak," sukuna continues, edging closer to you as you fold some robes nearby, recieving no response. you brush past him to walk away, heading towards the door when one pair of ridiculously large hands grab your hips from behind.
you still refuse to say anything.
sukuna leans in close, bending down low enough for his breath to fan across your ear, "have it your way." you begin to squirm in his iron grasp, shoving at his chest with your elbow like it’d do anything. "there’s no use in squirming, woman."
with that, sukuna uses his second pair of hands to grab your upper waist, spinning you around to face him before lifting you effortlessly into the air. you’re completely helpless, feet a metre from the floor. he just holds you there, narrowing his primary set of eyes like he’s trying to figure you out.
you squirm again, becoming frustrated, trying to use your feet to kick him. "let go of me, now!" you protest through gritted teeth. sukuna only holds you tighter, fingertips digging into the supple flesh on your hips.
the more you squirm, the more sukuna’s grin grows. "look at you, so pathetic and helpless," he rasps. “i can hold you here all day, brat. so speak."
you pout, finally giving in, body going limp in the air. the situation may be irritating, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the fact sukuna could hold you up like this with ease. something no other man was capable of.
"you’ve been neglecting me,” you huff, finally meeting sukuna’s gaze. his very irritated gaze. had this been anyone else, he would’ve sliced them into pieces the second they dared to ignore him. "i have done no such thing."
you scoff. "you’ve been away so much recently." sukuna ponders for a moment, realising that you might in fact be right, not that he was going to admit that. "tch. you’re behaving this way because you want attention?"
he desperately wants to taunt you a little more, yet surprisingly stops himself, noticing how your eyes begin to water. sukuna grumbles, muttering something under his breath, still keeping you restrained in the air.
"well, you have my attention now, woman," he says, gaze softening slightly. "are you going to put me down now?" you say, half hoping he doesn’t.
"do you wish for me to put you down?”
"…no."
sukuna hums, pulling you closer, two hands on your thighs now, positioning them around his waist — the other pair of hands still firm on your soft waist. you wrap your arms around his neck, resting your head against his shoulder, sighing in relief.
"strange woman," he murmurs, more to himself than anything, walking over to the bed.
a/n; never done a pink post before but i love this art sm i had to… anyways. the highly requested sukuna version!!
Sukuna was a happy man; he was married to a beautiful women, doing the best he can to raise their 9-year old son, Yuji. He imagined the perfect mornings where him and his wife would be whipping up breakfast together, sneaking kisses in quiet moments while their son played. Days where he would take his wife out on nice dates, compliment how pretty she was— overall the perfect life.
When Yuji was born, Sukuna was worried about being the perfect father for this small bundle of joy that laid your arms. He recalled the moment where Yuji’s nimble little feet stumbled toward Sukuna, taking his first steps—it was a joy that surprised him. Sukuna was fascinated on how his son was able to imagine such a colorful world around him; his fingers pointing at random objects and giving them stories that were hard to keep up.
When he turned four, the couple took the child out to the beach for the first time. Sukuna remembered the way Yuji’s eyes widen with his mouth agape at how big the ocean was. Sukuna raised the boy up to his shoulders because he wanted to see the end of the ocean.
It was these moments where it hurt to see Yuji grow; nevertheless turning 10. He no longer pretended to be a wizard or a soldier, he never mentioned his imaginary friends that used to accompany him in his play time. Sukuna had never seen childhood slip away, he thought it was just something that happened; however, seeing his baby grow so much, it weighed his heart.
“Honey?”
Your loving voice finally catching his attention; he turned to look at his gorgeous wife, despite the sadness in his soul, you never failed to make him smile. He must know that it was also hard on you to see your baby growing up, a child that will no longer need his parent as much.
“C’mon, we need to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Yuji soon; he wants to eat his cake.”
The last part made his heart swell just a bit—his boy was always so impatient. He hopes that Yuji will keep his childish creativity, he prays that the world won’t dampen his bright soul.
tags: modern AU, Sukuna x f!Reader, Sukuna's pov, graphic designer!Reader, tired girl x tired man, Sukuna's soft and quiet, reader's a bit of a yapper, reader exhaustion realism, quiet intimacy, slow burn, slice-of-life, subtle yearning, emotional restraint | wc: 3.9k
important: this is sukuna’s pov of thursdays. for the best experience, read the full reader pov story first (weeks 1–31), then come back to this version.
this side is meant to answer questions, but only after you know the whole story.
Monday started as it always did. Sukuna unlocked the door, stepped inside, and moved to the quiet office at the back of the garage, pulling up the log from the end of last week to see what’s waiting for him. There’s nothing unusual in it that would force a change on its own, but he lingered over the page a little longer than usual, weighing his options before deciding how he wanted the week to run.
The biggest engine jobs were scheduled right in the middle of the week, perfectly placed to cause chaos if anything went sideways. With a flicker of annoyance, he dragged them forward, stacking the heavy work at the start and shoving the smaller, less messy tasks to the back. Better to get the worst of it out of the way before anything had a chance to pile up.
It’s a straightforward, efficient call that came from years of experience. He doesn’t bother second-guessing himself beyond a quick, practical check that told him it’d keep things running smoother and keep the headaches to a minimum. Once the plan was set, he moved on without revisiting it.
The next days fell into line without a hitch. There’s more than enough work to keep his hands busy from open to close, but nothing that forced him to stay longer than he planned or strained him beyond the usual.
By Wednesday night, most of the heavy lifting he’d shoved to the front was already done. He ran through what’s left, ticking off jobs in his head, and the remaining work looked absolutely manageable. In the middle of that, a stray thought slipped in: Maybe I should hit the gym in the morning instead?
If he gets it done before work, he won’t be dragging himself through the last set, half-dead from a day on his feet. The session will go better if he’s fresh, anyway. Three workouts down already this week, so might as well keep the streak going. Moving the fourth to the morning felt like another good decision, and the thought settled in with a quiet, satisfied click of his tongue. Yeah. That works.
Thursday starts before the sun even thinks about rising. The alarm goes off at five, and he’s awake before it rings twice. The city is quieter at that hour, streets mostly empty, the gym quieter still with just the distant clatter of weights echoing in the space instead of the usual crowd. The workout goes smoothly, every rep landing just right, and the early start pays off exactly like he knew it would—it was a solid call, efficient even.
The first couple of hours at the shop slide by without a hitch, but by late morning, an emergency job drops right into his lap. The owner’s already wound tight before he even walks through the door, talking too fast that the car needs to be ready by Friday morning. The transmission’s slipping badly, worse than it should be for the mileage.
“Friday morning,” the man repeats, like saying it twice will make it easier.
One look under the hood and it’s obvious that this isn’t a job you can shove to the side or knock out between oil changes. Full teardown, the kind that eats hours and refuses to finish early. There’s no point in arguing, so he scribbles it into the schedule, like it or not.
After lowering the lift, he rolls the car into place, mind already ticking through what it’ll take to finish on time. It isn’t impossible, but it’s tighter than he’d planned for the end of the week, forcing a shift he hadn’t accounted for when he laid everything out on Monday and not in a way he likes.
But staring at the calendar, the irritation hits sharper than the inconvenience warrants. His hand freezes on the wrench, the spike of anger almost ridiculous. It doesn’t make sense. He’s dealt with worse, pulled longer hours, handled tighter deadlines without blinking. So why does this one get under his skin?
Normally, he’d just adjust, stay until eleven or later if he had to, grind it out, and barely think twice about the overtime, but that job arrived right when it shouldn’t, forcing its way into a space that had already been set aside. And just like that, the idea of staying late tonight makes his irritation flare, way out of proportion to the actual problem.
It lingers, simmering under his skin as he works, but Sukuna refuses to let it affect the job. He moves with a cold, almost frantic efficiency, pushing hard until most of the task is finished by eight. Stepping back, he surveys what’s left—not done yet, but close enough that he can see the end. The rest can be wrapped up cleanly before the customer returns, and the thought surfaces without effort: I’ll come in early. Five should do it. Maybe earlier.
That decision settles as smoothly as every other adjustment this week. It’s efficient and effective, and it prevents things from becoming unnecessarily messier. He scrubs the oil and grit from his hands, changes into fresh clothes, and heads out of the garage. As he pulls his keys out and climbs into the car, his shoulders burn, and his mind is slightly clouded by the day’s leftover frustration.
The engine’s hum settles into a steady rhythm as he merges onto the main road. Traffic’s thin at this hour, and the city is already slipping into its quieter nighttime pace. For a while, he keeps his focus where it belongs, on the drive and the familiar pattern of turns and stops.
But his mind refuses to quiet down. Whenever something feels off during his day, it circles back to it later, gnawing at him until he figures out why. Tonight is no different.
The emergency job is the first thing that surfaces, along with the delay, the tight timeline, the way it shoved itself into his carefully laid plans. He runs through the steps again, mentally mapping out how long the rest will take, how early he’ll need to show up, if five is enough or if he’ll have to push it even earlier. The answer doesn’t change: five works. But that doesn’t make the irritation disappear. It’s still there, detached from the problem it should belong to.
The road stretches ahead of him, and something about it all starts to itch at the back of his mind. The work’s planned, the fix is set, and normally, that would be the end of it. It always is, after all. Once a problem’s handled, it’s over—it stops mattering. Except this time, it doesn’t.
The thought builds, slow and steady, as the pieces start to align in the background. Half his attention stays on the road, the other half caught in the quiet, pointless loop of a problem that should already be solved.
Halfway to the store, it finally clicks. The pattern is right there, impossible to ignore: front-loading the week, the 5am gym session he’d told himself was just about efficiency, the way his temper spiked irrationally when the transmission job threatened to keep him late tonight. It all lines up, clear as day.
His fingers tighten on the wheel as everything lines up in his head. The pattern is obvious now, so simple it almost stings. The realization settles in with nothing to soften it.
The leather creaks under his grip, and he lets out a long, heavy breath, shoulders sinking just a little.
“Fuck.”
The word comes out rough, scraping the quiet. He’s pissed—at himself, at the way his routine got thrown off by something he never agreed to. Thursdays were supposed to be easy, predictable and uncomplicated. Yet here he is, four days deep into unconsciously rearranging his whole week around a ninety-minute window in a parking lot.
The thought loops, relentless and grating: It shouldn’t matter. It’s just a fixed point in the week, nothing more. But the fact that it does matter, that it was enough to make him reorganize his gym and work schedule, is what really gets under his skin.
Sukuna doesn’t even bother trying to shove the thought aside; it just sits there, stubborn, threading itself beneath everything else as he drives. His grip on the wheel tightens, knuckles blanching white.
Focus slips, just for a second; he’s a beat slow on a turn, attention drifting as he tries to reconcile the man he thinks he is with the one who just pulled a twelve-hour shift, frantically working, all so he wouldn’t miss a conversation on a tailgate.
It shouldn’t matter, he tells himself again.But it does. And he hates that it does.
When he finally pulls into the parking lot, he sees your car right away.
Of course you’re here. The thought isn’t formed in words so much as it is simply accepted, as everything else about Thursdays has started to, whether he likes it or not.
Pulling in beside your car, he kills the engine and steps out into the cool night air. The moment he walks through the automatic doors, routine snaps back into place, just like always, even if something underneath has changed just enough that pretending not to notice isn’t an option anymore.
Moving through the refrigerated drinks aisle, one hand buried in his black hoodie pocket, he crouches to reach for his favorite juice on the lower shelf. Footsteps approach, and he glances up, spots you halfway down the aisle, and gives a small nod in acknowledgment.
By the time you stop near him, he’s already straightening up, and his gaze meets yours without hesitation. There’s no shift in his expression beyond the familiar, minimal acknowledgment, the small nod that’s become routine between you, so automatic that it barely registers to him before it happens.
“Wanna eat something?”
There’s no need to think about it, and he gives a single, rough shrug, answering, “Sure.”
At this point, fighting the momentum of these Thursdays feels like more work than just letting them happen. No matter how much it bothers him that they’re starting to feel like more than a fixed, neutral point in his week, he doesn’t want them to stop.
There’s a strange ease in the way he moves beside you without a word, falling into step as you head toward the premade meals. Neither of you veers off into different aisles or slows to create distance—it just feels natural.
Sukuna scans the selection, barely bothering to compare options before grabbing two identical sandwiches, just the first thing that’ll work. He turns away from the shelf, then doubles back a second later for a carton of pre-cut fruit and his favorite protein shake. You add your own things to your basket as you go.
At the checkout, you split off into neighboring lines. He finishes first, moves toward the exit, pausing by the doors where he can keep you in his line of sight while you bag your groceries.
The fresh air in the parking lot is a nice change from the store as the two of you step out. He slows his pace so you don’t have to rush, matching your steps as you walk to the cars. For a moment, you split off, heading to your own trunk to stash the groceries.
Turning around, you catch Sukuna already at the tailgate, the hatch swung open. His eyes flick up as you come to stand beside him with the blanket draped over your arm.
When you offer the fabric to him with a slight shrug, he glances at it and then back at you, something almost amused flickering in his eyes. There’s something about it he finds… well, oddly cute that you came prepared and are willing to share, but he genuinely doesn’t feel the bite of the air at all.
“Not cold for me,” he says, his voice rough and low as ever.
He watches as you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and trail after him to the back of the Jeep. Hauling himself up onto the tailgate first, he settles in with one leg propped, the other down on the asphalt, already tearing into his food before you’ve even gotten comfortable beside him. Hunger takes over for a minute, everything else fading out, and he remembers he hasn’t eaten since breakfast thanks to that last-minute job that threw off his whole day.
The silence settles in, comfortable as ever, just like it’s been for weeks, filled only by low music drifting from the front speakers. He barely glances up between bites, content to just be here, while you unwrap your food and tuck your legs under the blanket for warmth.
“I went to Iceland a few times,” you start after a few more bites, choosing a topic that sits miles away from the grit and frustration of the workday, while looking into the darkness above the horizon. “Years ago, when I was still in high school. My parents were into these off-season trips… less tourists, better prices, fewer people.”
Sukuna turns fully toward you, leaning his back against the Jeep’s interior wall. The last scraps of his attention peel away from the food and settle on you instead.
“It’s probably the only place I’ve been to that actually made me feel quiet inside,” you continue, your voice softening. “Like… there’s so much space. Everything’s just open. Sky, mountains, nothing for kilometers. You drive for hours and don’t see anyone… not even houses sometimes. Just moss and rock and that pale, immense sky that looks like it’s always about to snow, even when it isn't.”
Something about the sound of your voice, and just having you there beside him, settles him in a way he can’t quite name. The way you talk about escaping toward emptiness, toward fewer people, catches his interest. The picture you paint of wide, empty spaces and that deep quiet lines up perfectly with his own craving for order and solitude.
Another bite of onigiri disappears before you go on.
“We did this hike once in the rainbow mountains, Land…” You try to pronounce its name and miss it badly enough that it makes you laugh under your breath, not embarrassed at all.
That laugh sharpens his attention, but not because you got the name wrong. It’s the sound itself, unguarded and easy, like you aren’t embarrassed at all. He likes that. Most people he meets are too performative or self-conscious, but your comfort in the moment lets him relax, just a little more than before.
“Anyway… Wherever you looked, everything had different colors: emerald green, sulfur yellow, rusty orange, brick red.” You pause briefly, then your voice softens even further. “It looked so fake from a distance, but then you get up close and realize it’s all real, just mineral deposits. The wind’s brutal up there sometimes. You don’t realize how much noise you live with until you’re somewhere like that, where the loudest thing is the sound of the wind in your own ears.”
It’s the detail of the wind being the only sound that really lodges itself in his mind. After a day spent drowning in the racket of pneumatic tools, the idea of a place where everything finally goes quiet is almost too tempting.
“I remember I whined the whole time during that hike, and my dad was probably ready to strangle me, but once I saw the views… it was so worth it.”
You pause, glancing down at your hands and picking absently at the wrapper folded in your lap.
“We saw a pack of reindeers one day, grazing on the side of the road like it was nothing. And the cliffs… they drop straight into the ocean, and the water’s this deep, icy blue, and there are these birds that look cartoonish… puffins they’re called, I think? And almost all the beaches are black sand and it looks out of this world. You know… I felt like I visited five countries, the moon and Mars, and came back all in one trip.”
Letting out a long breath, you shake your head, your eyes dropping to your lap. “Sorry. Rambling.”
Sukuna doesn’t hear rambling in any of it. If anything, he likes how you talk without a filter when something matters, and this wasn’t just chatter—it had direction, and more than that, it meant something. You were describing something real, something that stuck with you, and he gets it.
Wiping his fingers on the edge of the wrapper and setting it aside beside him, he says, “Sounds peaceful.” It’s the closest word he has for it.
You nod, tugging the blanket tighter around your shoulders. "It was. Never really appreciated it until we stopped going. And I guess… when things get overwhelming, I keep coming back to it. In my head, I mean. That feeling. And lately… that happens a lot."
He recognizes it right away for what it is—not just a memory for the sake of remembering, but a place you return to when things get too loud, something you can step into without anything interfering. That’s familiar. He knows that specific kind of mental retreat and the need to find a place, or even just a memory, where the world stops demanding things from you.
Shifting his weight, he leans his elbow on his bent knee and closes his eyes.
After a pause, he offers up his own version of that quiet. “There’s a stretch of coastal road outside Ibaraki. Hard to find unless you already know it’s there. Nothing but asphalt, ocean, and maybe two or three trucks all night.”
That stretch of road is a comfort he’s always kept to himself, even from Jin. He’s not used to talking about himself, let alone his habits, but tonight’s atmosphere feels different, more open, like the names you gave each other last week changed something between you.
“I used to drive it after work. Windows down, music up. Nothing fancy. Just… it helped.”
“Still go there?” you ask softly.
“Sometimes.”
That drive is a luxury he rarely gets. It’s a trip that needs a clear schedule the next day, so he only goes when the shop isn’t buried in engine rebuilds, or when a rare Sunday lets him disappear for a few hours without a deadline breathing down his neck.
After opening his eyes, he looks down at the bags between you. His hand disappears inside, fishing out the protein shake and the fruit package. He opens it, offers you a piece, and when you shake your head and return to your tea, he takes a slice of apple for himself.
“I’d like to go back to Iceland one day,” you say. “Though… not with anyone who’d talk through the silence. That’d ruin it.”
That lands for him right away. Most people fill silence without thinking, or break it because they don’t know what to do with it. He understands exactly what you mean, and the quiet sound he makes isn’t just an acknowledgment but an unadorned agreement.
“I imagine your road doesn’t smell like sulfur and cold ocean,” you add.
A faint smirk tugs at his mouth. The comparison amuses him, but he likes the grit in his version of peace compared to yours.
“No. Well, cold ocean, yeah. But mostly gasoline. And ramen”.
You blink, looking at him with your head tilted in surprise. “Ramen?”
“There’s a shop at the end,” he explains, his voice low as he meets your eyes. “It’s open until three. Nobody talks in there either”.
He brings it up because it fits; it’s another place where nothing is expected, and silence only breaks if you want it to.
“Okay, that’s good,” you say, smiling into your bottle. “Didn’t expect to like your version of peace almost as much as mine.”
“Didn’t expect to share it.”
It might sound blunt, but it’s honest. Sukuna hadn’t planned to tell anyone about that road, but watching you now, he realizes he doesn’t regret it. He appreciates, too, that you don’t push for more details.
He doesn’t look away, not even when you catch his gaze, or later, when your eyes drop back to your lap and you start tearing at a wrapper.
“My boss wanted to change the design again,” you say eventually, the frustration bubbling over in your voice. “Told me it needed more energy. Whatever the fuck that means.”
A sharp, brief puff of air escapes him, carrying a mix of genuine amusement at your bluntness and low-grade exasperation on your behalf. He knows exactly what it’s like to deal with a client or boss who thinks they understand a craft better than the person actually doing the work. He stays quiet as you continue, letting you vent your tension.
“I spent hours balancing colors, shape, tone, everything. It was clean, made sense. He comes in and wants to throw… I don’t know? A red box in the middle of a minimalist composition like it’ll magically make the whole thing pop.” You shake your head, running a hand through your hair. “I hate that word. ‘Pop.’ It’s not a fucking design term. It’s what people say when they don’t know what they want, just that they want it to feel more… something.”
It’s obvious you have standards for your work, and you’re not about to compromise them just because someone else’s lack of vision. He respects that. Competence is one of the few things that actually matters to him, and you have it in spades.
“Sounds like you actually know what you’re doing,” he says.
A long sigh slips out, your fingers rubbing slow circles over your sinuses, trying to work out the stress headache building behind your eyes.
“I like to think I do,” you murmur.
Neither of you says anything more. The food and drinks are finished, wrappers crumpled and set aside, and both of you pretend not to notice, sitting a little longer in the pooling silence, until a yawn finally escapes you.
You mumble a quick apology for that, stretching your legs out under the blanket, and he accepts it with a nod.
“Thanks for sitting with me tonight,” you say softly, both of you standing at the same time.
“Drive safe, Red,” he says, his gravelly voice cutting through the quiet of the lot.
The nickname fits easily, like it’s been there longer than it has. He figures you must feel the same, because you flash him a big, warm smile. It looks good on you.
“You too, Pink,” you reply, then head to your car, missing the tug at the corner of his mouth when you call him that again.
Like always, Sukuna doesn’t move until your engine turns over and your headlights sweep across the asphalt. Only then does he pull out of the lot behind you, glancing at his dash clock. Nearly eleven. He’s supposed to be back under a car in six hours, but as he drives toward his house, the lack of sleep isn’t what’s on his mind.
He’s just glad he went to the gym in the morning.
a/n: i'm sorry it took me so long, i'm really trying my best, but me and thursdays are going through a rough patch :(
summary: ryomen sukuna, the king of curses, challenges someone to a battle of power to see who is stronger. who knows, maybe after 271 years, he will finally find someone as strong as him.
after utterly destroying a village in upper kyoto, you lay down in a green wheat field to rest. the last remaining fragment of humanity within you had finally surrendered. you felt relieved, as if a massive barrier had been lifted from your shoulders. there was no longer any factor that could limit the bond between you and the cursed energy in nature. you were one with the cursed energy you felt around you; you now truly understood how it felt and what it felt like. this sensation made you drunk. in your 121 years of life, you had been drunk many times, but this was something entirely different. all your cells felt both numb and hyper-alert at the same time. the sun illuminating your body caressed your skin. you felt deeply peaceful.
however, all at once, you felt an unexpected shift in cursed energy. it felt suffocating, making you feel as though you had to take immediate action. you quickly sat up and traced the shift in energy. it didn't take long to find the source.
"a man, how strange," you thought. as you tried to examine him a bit more closely, your eyes locked with his.
both of you flinched instinctively. you had to be aware of the danger; while comparing power might have been difficult, you both knew that the person across from you was strong enough to wipe a country off the map with a single move. at least, the intense surge of cursed energy made that much clear.
“you…?” slipped from your lips. someone had to break the silence.
“you’re like me, woman,” the man said, in a voice as deep as you would expect from his build.
“we look alike…” she murmured, her eyes narrowing “who are you?”
“i am ryomen sukuna. tell me, woman, who are you?”
“i am …… and one more question, man. what exactly are you?”
“i don’t know. maybe the king of curses, the disgraced one, or the strongest sorcerer alive.”
“now that’s a lie. i am the strongest sorcerer alive.”
after the unexpected invitation, you took your positions in the green wheat field. he was strong—unbelievably so. but you were no slouch either. after a while, you could see that he was struggling too. with attack after attack, you were slowly wearing each other down. storing or burning through cursed energy wasn't an issue for you—after all, you were born with infinite cursed energy. the real problem was the incredible damage he was inflicting on your body, and the fact that this damage forced you to constantly switch back and forth between reverse cursed technique and cursed technique. it was exhausting, but not unbearable.
you could tell he was struggling just as much. against your infinite cursed energy, his own reserves were falling short. on top of that, the attacks you made to his reserves were steadily weakening him. however, what worked in his favor was his raw physical strength. his massive build, combined with his technique, inflicted deep wounds on your body, forcing you into that constant cycle of switching techniques.
some legends say seven days, while others say a month, but you fought for a long time. your overwhelming power—ineffective against each other—was destroying everything around you except the two of you. honestly, you didn't care all that much, but you were starting to get bored.
“hey, ryomen! should we stop now?” you yelled while getting ready for a new attack.
“yeah, woman. maybe. this shit is starting to bore me.”
surprising as it was, you kept your word. you stopped fighting and were now standing across from each other. in truth, you were quite similar: four arms, more than two eyes, tattoos, incredible power dynamics, and so on. getting tired of the staring at each other, you threw yourself onto the ground—onto what had once been a green field of grass. his eyes followed your movement. after a short while, he lay down next to you as well.
“so, man... would you like to tell me about yourself?”
true form!sukuna who loves loves loves back scratches.
it’s mainly become routine now: you’ll sleep beside him, on his chest or the crook of his shoulder, while two of his arms wrap around your waist & one cups the right side of your face while stroking hair from the left. and then you’ll scratch him weakly, on the nape of his neck, & suddenly the beast of a man flops over.
“sukuna..”
he doesn’t say anything the entire time. just moves every time your hand does, trying to give you the best access possible while his hands tighten almost threatingly around you, which is his way of encouraging you more. when you start scratching properly he’ll press his cheek against your face and suddenly be preening for more, going at every angle.
only once have you not scratched him & immediately you regretted it. he froze before manually doing it himself, hands moving from your waist to drape your arms over his exposed back (he only doesn’t sleep with a shirt on, ever, because of it) and do it himself
once you swore you heard a purr, but who are you kidding? wouldn’t be beside him.
empress!sukuna ryomen spends all her days hidden in a chamber where a gold statue rest in the corner, taking care of it while she talks to it, no one understands why she's always apologizing to an inanimate object ꒰ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
cw: mdni, fem!sukuna, inaccurate descriptions of an empire, angst, mentions of sex, nudity, mentions of suicide, torture, violence, blood, no happy ending, roughly proofread, art by phantomosis, divider by @porcelaincatx
word count: 8.2k words
“You returned earlier than I expected,” Sukuna said, with her fingers circling around her glass of wine and a tray with dates and nuts.
Every time her husband, the Emperor, leaves the country a weight from her chest lifts. The possibility of him finally encountering an enemy and never returning gives her enough hope to keep going through the days. But her husband always reappears at the door, not even paying attention to his precious wife. When he’s away, he makes sure that Sukuna is never left alone, he knows her history and habits, the chances of her abandoning the castle are little, but never not possible. So a guard and a lady in waiting he personally chooses are always with her.
He doesn’t think about answering her words, the little respect he had for her was lost years ago. She wonders if he ever got any, if he ever sees her as anything more than a broken baby machine. After years, Sukuna hasn’t managed to birth any children, the Emperor having to resort to the concubines who gave him three kids in less than a year. She was useless in his eyes, a burden he had to put up with because of a contract made almost ten years ago.
Ten years in which Sukuna barely knew peace. The Emperor always made sure to show how much he despised her, how she was only there because her father was a wealthy old man who sold her to the highest bidder. She always felt trapped, having to endure the comments of her so-called husband on her looks and manners. She was always too much; too strong, too big, her hair was too pink and her eyes too red. He forced her into frail dresses that didn’t compliment her figure, making her feel out of place, compared to the soft and pretty concubines. No one has ever called her pretty, no one that she can talk to.
Sukuna feels so lonely, she has no one to talk to trustly. She knows she can’t have any secrets or impure thoughts anymore, everything she says out loud, the Emperor ends up knowing it.
“Are you already ignoring me?” She takes a sip of her glass, following her husband with her eyes as he gets rid of his cloak and some garments. “What did you do on this journey?”
He takes a deep breath, having to restrain himself to not start shouting. He knows his wife, he knows her stupid little questions she asks when she wants to anger him.
“I don’t owe you an answer about my travels,” he says simply, looking at her for a fraction of a second before trying to leave the room.
Trying, because Sukuna knows exactly what to say now. “So, drink and fornicate, I suppose.”
He turns around so fast, his hand up to cross her face if needed. There was something about his wife’s face when he slapped her, almost arousing for him. How her cheek gets red almost instantly, complimenting her eyes filled with tears she can’t contain. The slap doesn’t even hurt most of the time, the Emperor is a weak man, but all the nerves in her face scream with the impact, making a few tears slip out. And the enraging look on her face, full of incompetence because she could jump him, destroy him but she can’t. Even in misery, Sukuna appreciates the miracle of being alive, her mother died giving birth to her, all her past siblings died within days after being birthed. Being able to grow old is a miracle, even if miserable, it’s a sentence she has to complete.
Sukuna braced herself as hush and flew toward her face, the slap landed sharp, stinging her cheek and sending a fresh wave of heat across her skin. She didn’t flinch away, she stopped doing that after the fourth slap, instead, she lifted her chin, her red eyes locking onto his with a fire that refused to die. A single tear slipped down, but she wiped it away quickly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.
“Ten years of this, and you still hit like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum,” she whispered, keeping her voice steady.
The Emperor’s face twisted with rage, his fingers curled into fists at his sides and the veins in his neck stood out. He always tries hard to look intimidating.
“You dare to speak to me like that after everything I’ve given you?”
Sukuna sets her wine glass down with a deliberate clink, the tray of dates and nuts forgotten. Her tall frame towering over him in a way that always seemed to unsettle the man, the dress she’s wearing today felt like chains now, tight across her strong shoulders and hips that the concubines could never match.
“You’ve given me nothing but chains and insults.” She keeps her voice at a low level, through her teeth. “While you run off to drink and tumble with whoever catches your eye, I’m left here like some forgotten trophy. Useless because I didn’t give you an heir? Maybe the gods knew better than to curse a child with a father like you.”
“Watch your tongue, Sukuna, or I’ll have the guards drag you to the dungeons where you belong. Your father sold you to me because even he couldn’t stand the sight of his freak daughter. The concubines know their place, they gave me sons while you sit here wasting time.”
His words cut deeper than any slap ever could, her chest ached with the loneliness swallowing her.
“Maybe if you spent lest time proving how weak you are and more time being a man, things would be different. Buy no, you prefer easy targets, young girls who flutter and simper while I–”
“Enough!” he roared, lunging forward to grab her arm, but Sukuna twisted away. She’s always been agile despite the years of suppression.
She turned on her heel, heart pounding as she headed for the door. “I’m done listening to your poison. Rot here with your ego for all I care.”
“You will not walk away from me!” the Emperor bellowed as she ignored him and pushed the heavy door open. “Get back here, you ungrateful whore! Don’t you dare to go visit that harlot demon, Sukuna! SUKUNA!”
His screams chased her down the hallway, echoing off the stone walls like thunder. Guards glanced her way but didn’t stop her. Sukuna kept walking, her steps quick and determined, tears burning in her eyes now that no one could see. She doesn’t mind that her husband is not sexually involved with her anymore, she even prefers it this way because otherwise, she would start feeling disgusted by herself. It is the humiliation of being an useless wife, and how everyone in the Empire knows that she is rejected by her own husband. The moment the eldest son of the concubines grows up to be the next Emperor, she will be sent away from the country.
She knows the path by heart, down the hallway to the left, then down the stairs and entering the door on the right. After some moments of turning right and left, going down stairs and opening old doors, she’s finally exactly where she wants to be. She made sure she’s the only one with the key to this chamber, that she keeps hidden in her chest, tied to a chain under all the layers of clothing. It creaks when it opens, the door heavy after years of only one person entering it.
She closes it with the same key now that she’s inside, lighting two candles so she could see inside. She still can’t quite describe the feeling she feels when she sees her precious statue resting in a corner.
It’s a beautiful gilded statue of a young woman simply standing, its eyes are closed and it is naked. The curves of its body are soft, dipping and curving in the perfect places in the eyes of Sukuna. The expression of the woman is calm, with its eyes closed and mouth half-opened, it’s impossible to tell the true emotions in its face. But you can see a single tear carved in its cheek.
Sukuna takes out a lilac handkerchief, dusting the statue. She started with its bare feet, taking care of all the dirt that accumulated there since her last visit, her ankles and legs. Her hips and stomach, the folds of her back and the underside of her breasts. Sukuna is always so tender with it, it’s endearing seeing her take care of something in such a soft and dedicated way, especially with its face. She shakes the handkerchief so the dust flies away before wiping the face. She rests her hand on its cheek as if it were a real woman, her thumb rubbing circles as she wipes away the dust on her eyelids and nose.
When she’s happy with how it looks, she sits down on the ground looking up at her and hugging her legs.
“I’m sorry it’s been a while since I came to visit you.” Sukuna said softly, her voice barely above a whisper at first.
She waited, as she always did, half hoping some miracle would let the statue answer. But of course it stayed silent, calm and unmoving. That was okay. It was enough just to have this space, this secret place where no one could interrupt or report back to her husband. She shifted a little closer, resting her forehead against the statue’s cool leg for a second before pulling back and starting to speak properly.
“Today was awful again. He came back earlier than I thought, you know? I had this tiny bit of peace while he was gone, maybe he would die on his trip. But no, he walked in like he owned every breath in the room, which I guess he does. I tried to ask him about his journey, just to be civil, but he ignored me. We argue again.”
Her fingers traced lightly over the statue’s ankle as she talked, touching it helped the words flow easier. “He slapped me, too. It didn’t even hurt, but I despise the look on his face after, makes me sick in the stomach.”
She swallowed and before she could control it, tears started to prick at her eyes once again, but instead of trying to retain them, she kept going, words pouring faster now. “I feel like I’m drowning every day. I have no one to trust, I can’t have friends or secrets, I can’t even dream about a life where I’m not just a contract he regrets.” She laughs bittersweetly. “And I don’t even want to know what the people think about me.”
She hugged her legs tighter, rocking slightly as the weight of it all pressed down on her chest. The candle flames danced, casting soft golden shadows over the statue’s curves, highlighting the gentle dip of her waist and the soft swell of her breasts. Sukuna reached out and touched the statue’s hand, holding it carefully.
“I miss feeling alive. Some days I think about running, but where would I go? My family doesn’t want me back. The world outside these walls would probably see me as the emperor’s discarded wife and treat me even worse. I’m trapped in this body, in this marriage, in this stupid life that just keeps pulling me under. Every night I lie there wondering why the gods let me live when my mother and all my siblings didn’t. Is this really the miracle? Growing old just to be hated and lonely?”
She cried harder, shoulders shaking as she poured out months of bottled-up pain. The words tumbled over each other, about the empty dinners, the cruel comments about her figure, the way the children of the concubines looked at her with pity or disdain, the long nights staring at the ceiling wishing for anything different. Time stretched in the little room, the candles burning lower as she vented everything that had been crushing her soul.
Eventually the sobs slowed, leaving her drained and quiet. Sukuna lifted her head, blinking through wet lashes to look at the statue’s serene face. That was when the light from one of the candles shifted just right, catching on the statue’s hand. Her breath caught. There, on the delicate fingers she had just been holding, a small patch of the gilding was starting to flake and ruin, the smooth surface turning dull and cracked like it was wearing away from time and neglect.
“No... no, not you too,” Sukuna whispered, panic rising fast in her chest. She scrambled up onto her knees, grabbing the lilac handkerchief again. Her hands shook as she rubbed at the spot, trying desperately to wipe away the damage, to fix it, to make it perfect again. “Why can’t anything stay whole for me? I take such good care of you, I dust you every time, no one comes here except me.”
She scrubbed harder, tears flowing fresh as the ruined spot refused to smooth out under her frantic efforts. A broken sob tore from her throat and she pressed her face against the statue’s hand, fully crying now. Her body trembled with the force of it, aching sobs that come from years of holding everything in.
“I miss you,” she whispered hoarsely against the cool metal. “I miss you so much it hurts to breathe. I would give anything to hear you call me pretty just one more time. Please... don’t ruin too. Don’t leave me like everything else has. I’m so sorry, please.”
Sukuna stayed like that for what felt like hours, clinging to the statue, whispering her pain and her longing into the quiet chamber while the candles slowly burned down.
Sukuna’s strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against her taller frame. Her pink hair stuck to her forehead and neck in damp strands, and her red eyes were half-lidded, soft in a way no one else ever got to see. She was breathing just as hard as you, her full breasts pressing against your own with every inhale, nipples still sensitive and peaked from your earlier touches.
She always admired the softness of your body, you have nice curves and folds, marks on your hips that she loves to kiss and a fullness in your thighs and breasts that she envied. You look so feminine, so pretty. She can’t believe someone like you feels insecure about her body, someone as gorgeous as you, built to be praised and worshipped, Sukuna couldn’t believe the way you talked about yourself.
“Don’t say that.” She caught your lips between her fingers, making you pout while you furrowed your eyebrows. “You don’t get to talk like that about the woman I love.”
You let out a tired little laugh, nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck. Your legs tangled tighter with hers, one of your thighs slipping between hers so you could feel the heat still radiating from her core.
“But it’s true,” you mumbled against her salty skin. “I’m all jiggly in places and you’re so strong and beautiful. I just... I want to be perfect for you.”
Sukuna’s hand slid down your back, tracing the curve of your spine before cupping your ass and squeezing gently. Her touch was possessive but so tender it made your heart ache.
“You are perfect,” she whispered, pressing slow kisses along your jaw. “Every inch of you. These hips?” She stroked them, thumb brushing over the stretch marks you hated. “I kiss them because they’re mine. These thighs that wrap around me so sweetly... gods, the way they feel trembling under my hands. And your breasts...” She shifted lower, nuzzling between them with a contented sigh, her breath warm against your damp skin. “So full and soft. I could bury myself here forever.”
You whimpered softly, fingers threading through her pink hair and holding her close. Sweat made your bodies stick together wherever you touched, but neither of you cared. You always feel clingy after sex, almost desperate after the high, the fear of Sukuna having to leave early if you let go of her.
“Stay right here,” you begged quietly, voice cracking just a bit. “Don’t go yet.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised.
She rolled you both slightly so she was half on top of you, her weight comforting rather than crushing. One of her legs draped over yours, she kissed your forehead, then your eyelids, then the tip of your nose.
“You’re my lady in waiting, aren’t you? That means I get to keep you by my side every day. In the halls, in my chambers... in my bed when it’s safe.”
You smiled against her collarbone, planting lazy kisses there while your hand wandered over her strong stomach, feeling the muscles twitch under your fingertips. You love being hers so much, even if you have to hide it, even if you have to pretend you’re just fixing her dresses or braiding her hair when really you’re thinking about how you taste.
“You always look at me like I’m the only thing that matters, I don’t know how you do it.” Your words came out unguarded, the tiredness making you say whatever floated through your mind.
Sukuna’s eyes shimmered with emotion as she cupped your face, thumb brushing away a stray tear you didn’t realize had fallen. “Because I love you so much,” she said fiercely. “More than i’ve ever loved anything. You make me feel worthy of being loved.”
You clung tighter, wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her down for a deep kiss. Your tongues met lazily, tasting salt and lingering pleasure. When you pulled back, you were both breathing harder again.
“You are worthy,” you whispered. “You’re the strongest, most beautiful woman I know. I wish everyone could see you the way I do. I wish I could shout from the towers that the emperor’s wife is loved properly by someone.”
Sukuna chuckled softly, but there was something bittersweet in her body, a sadness that crept into her eyes that she kept trying to ignore. She brushed her nose against yours. “One day maybe. But for now, this is enough. You’re mine to protect, you hear me? I promise I’ll keep you by my side forever, my sweet girl.”
Your heart swelled and ached at the same time. You kissed her again, savoring the way her lips felt plush and warm. “I believe you.” You ran your fingers through her hair, playing with the damp strands. “I’m sorry, I’m always like this after sex…”
You try to hide your embarrassment in Sukuna’s neck, but she stops you pressing her forehead against you. “Like what?”
You look away, not wanting to answer her because suddenly it felt too silly. “Clingy or whatever. I feel I’m always making you tell me how much you adore me.”
“Tch. Nonsense, I tell you everyday even if you don’t ask for it.”
That made you laugh out loud, head dropping to the side as your giggles filled the room. You love how she is accidentally hilarious from time to time. Sukuna took the opportunity to kiss you all over your face, wrapping her arms around you and rolling with you in her bed while your bodies rubbed against each other. You spent the next thirty minutes talking and kissing like every night, until the candles were almost burnt and you had to go back to your room, making sure that no one could see you exit her room.
She always helped you dress up before leaving, which is funny, you’re usually the one who lays out her clothes and helps her get inside them. Now Sukuna helps you with your undergarments, letting you rest on her shoulder for balance –your legs too shaky after being with her– and then she fixed your hair and light makeup before pulling you into the longest kiss of the night, tasting you enough so she can lick her lips and still taste you after spending the night away. Both of you crave for a night where you can spend it together, from dusk till dawn, sleeping together without the fear of someone entering her room and catching you together.
“Be safe, my flower,” Sukuna said, kissing your lips once more and pressing your waist in need.
“I will. Don’t miss me too much, I’ll be here next morning to do your hair.” You brushed her hair out of her forehead before crossing the door and leaving her alone in her room.
Sukuna didn’t expect for her husband to call her that morning, it’s so rare that he asks for his presence in anything. He’s usually not even on her side of the palace, as he’s always wandering around the part of the palace where the concubines spend their day, wasting time with them while the Empire is ruled by his two poor assistants that try to do the best they can. Today apparently, he needed Sukuna’s presence in the main room of the palace, with some guards and his assistants already there.
She appreciated not being left alone with the monster she has as a husband, but somehow she still didn’t feel safe enough there.
He was sitting on his big round table, empty in all eight seats because his advisers had left him after he kept getting anger attacks over the lamest things ever. Sukuna has always say it, the Emperor of her beloved country is a kid, there must have been something wrong in his brain for him to be and act like he does.
“Did you call for me?” she said, after entering the room
Sukuna stood just inside the heavy doors of the main room, her hands clasped tightly in front of her to stop them from trembling. The air felt colder here than in her own chambers, thick with the scent of polished wood and the faint metallic tang of the guards’ armor. His two assistants hovered nearby, looking as exhausted as ever, while four guards stood at attention along the walls.
He didn’t answer her right away. Instead, he took a slow sip from a silver goblet, eyes fixed on some papers spread across the table. When he finally looked up, his expression was the same mix of irritation and disdain he always wore around her.
“Yes, I called for you,” he said flatly. “Sit.”
Sukuna remained standing, she could already feel her pulse racing under her skin. Something was wrong. He never summoned her for anything good.
“I’d rather stand,” she answered carefully.
The emperor’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t push it. He waved a hand toward one of the assistants, who stepped forward and placed a thin leather folder in front of him. “I’ve been looking into your new lady in waiting, the one you hired a few months ago. You remember her, don’t you?”
Sukuna’s stomach dropped so hard she almost swayed. She forced her face to stay neutral, even as every muscle in her body locked up. You. He was talking about you. The only person who made her days bearable. The only one who looked at her like she was more than a failure.
“I know who you mean,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “What about her?”
He opened the folder and flipped through a few pages, lips curling in something close to a smirk. “Interesting history. She was dismissed from her last position. The noblewoman she served caught her in bed, apparently the girl has a habit of seducing the women she works for. Quite the scandal. Her previous mistress nearly had her thrown out of the city.”
Heat rushed to her face, she could feel the guards watching her, the assistants shifting uncomfortably. Her mind raced with images of you in her bed, your soft curves under her hands, the way you clung to her after, whispering how much you loved her. If he found out the truth…
“That doesn’t mean anything,” she said quickly, stepping closer to the table despite every instinct screaming at her to stay still. “People lie. Noblewomen get jealous. Maybe the other woman made it up to cover her own mistakes.”
The emperor leaned back, studying her with narrowed eyes. “You’re defending her rather strongly. Why? She’s just a servant.”
Sukuna swallowed hard, her palms were damp against the fabric of her dress. She could not lose you. The thought alone made her chest tight with fear, you were the only bright thing left in her life. The only one who did her job with care, who stayed late to braid her hair gently instead of yanking at it, who brought her tea the way she liked it without being asked. The only one who made her feel less alone in the endless cold of the palace.
“She’s the only lady in waiting who actually does her work properly,” Sukuna said, forcing the words out with as much calm as she could manage. “The others are lazy or careless. This one listens. She keeps my chambers in order and never gossips. I trust her completely. I want her to stay by my side.”
He laughed, short and ugly. “Trust? After what I just told you? You’re more of a fool than I thought. Or maybe you’re just desperate for any scrap of attention. Even from some servant girl who can’t keep her hands to herself.”
The insult burned, but Sukuna held her ground. Inside she was shaking, terrified he would order you removed today, right now, before she could even warn you.
“I don’t care what some old report says,” she insisted. “She’s been with me for months and has done nothing but serve me well. The other ladies barely manage the simplest tasks, this one stays late without complaint. She is reliable. That is all that matters.”
The emperor’s fingers tapped against the table. He looked almost amused by her nervousness, like a cat watching a mouse struggle. “You’re awfully attached. Maybe I should have her reassigned to the kitchens. Or better yet, send her back to whatever hole she crawled out of. I won’t have a known seductress near my wife.”
Sukuna’s hands clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. She could feel the panic rising in her throat, thick and choking. Losing you would be like losing the last piece of herself that still felt alive. She stepped even closer, ignoring the way one of the guards shifted his weight.
“Please,” she said, and the word tasted bitter on her tongue. She hated begging him for anything. “Keep her with me, I will take full responsibility for her behavior. If she steps out of line even once, you can dismiss her. But right now she is the only one who makes my days manageable. Let me keep her.”
He stared at her for a long moment, the silence stretching until it felt unbearable.
Finally the emperor closed the folder with a soft thud. “We’ll see. For now she stays. But I will be watching. One wrong move and she is gone. Do you understand me?”
Sukuna nodded once, relief and dread twisting together so tightly she almost felt sick. “I understand.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Get out of my sight. And next time, hire someone with a cleaner past.”
She turned and left the room as quickly as dignity allowed, her legs unsteady, the heavy doors closing behind her with a final boom. In the hallway she pressed her back against the cold stone wall and closed her eyes, breathing hard.
That night, Sukuna paced the length of the thick carpet, bare feet sinking into the soft weave with every turn. The candles she had lit earlier flickered against the dark wood walls, throwing long shadows that seemed to follow her. She had already dismissed the other servants hours ago, claiming a headache, but the real reason sat heavy in her chest. You always came after the evening meal, slipping in quietly once the halls emptied. Tonight every minute without you made her stomach twist tighter.
She stopped in front of the tall mirror and tried to smooth her expression. She forced her shoulders down, rolled them once, then twice. She needed to look calm. If you saw how scared she was, you might leave. Or worse, you might try to protect her and get yourself into even more danger.
The soft click of the side door made her freeze, you stepped inside, closing it carefully behind you. Your curves were wrapped in a simple night robe, curls loose around your shoulders, cheeks still a little flushed from walking the cool corridors. The moment your eyes found her, Sukuna straightened and offered a small smile that felt cracked at the edges.
“You’re late,” she said. She turned toward the table and pretended to adjust a vase of wilting flowers. “I was starting to think the kitchens kept you longer than usual.”
You just stood there watching her, head tilted and knowing damn well something was off. Sukuna kept her hands busy, moving the same flower stem from one side of the vase to the other, but her fingers trembled enough for the petals to shiver
“Sukuna,” you said quietly. “Stop.”
She froze again, still facing away from you. She heard the soft rustle of your robe as you stepped closer.
“Come here,” you whispered. “Stop walking around and get in bed with me.”
For a second she almost argued, almost insisted everything was fine. But the gentle firmness in your voice undid her. Your eyes were soft but steady, already seeing straight through the calm she was trying so hard to wear.
Without another word Sukuna reached for the ties of her own nightgown. The fabric slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her feet, leaving her strong body bare in the candlelight. Pink hair spilled down her back as she climbed onto the wide bed and settled against the pillows. You followed, shedding your robe just as easily. The mattress dipped under your weight. Soft thighs brushed against hers, skin meeting cool air, and then you were wrapping yourself around her the way you always did.
Sukuna’s arms came around you desperately. She pressed her face into the curve of your neck, breathing in the familiar scent of your skin. Your full breasts pressed against her own, the gentle folds of your body molding perfectly to the harder lines of hers. For a few heartbeats she just held on, heart hammering against your chest.
Then the words tumbled out before she could stop them.
“I know,” she whispered against your collarbone. “I know about the other women, you were dismissed from your last post for seducing the lady you served. Just like me.”
Her fingers tightened on your waist, afraid you might pull away. And you did, lifting your head from her to look her in the eyes.
“Those are vile lies, Sukuna,” you say slowly, your arms lifting from her back. “Who told you that?”
“The Emperor did an investigation on you. Is that what you usually do? Seduce every influential woman you find?”
Sukuna didn’t expect herself to bring it up like that, she just wanted to warn you about being watched. But she couldn’t help but feel insecure, were you just using her for your own pleasure? After being with you all these months, she couldn’t believe that you never mentioned something like that.
You sat up, pulling the nearest bedsheet over your chest and around you, covering the breasts and hips she had always kissed so freely. You had never done that before, never hidden yourself from her. The fabric felt rough against your still-warm skin, a barrier you needed more than air.
“I never planned to be attracted to women. My past lovers are nothing for you to care about. Nothing.”
Sukuna pushed herself up on one elbow, pink hair falling across her bare shoulder, eyes wide with a mix of hurt and confusion.
“Why didn’t you tell me anything?” she asked, sitting up fully now. Her voice rose a little. “We’ve been together for months. I’ve told you everything about him, and you never once mentioned anything about this? Why keep that from me?”
You clutched the sheet tighter, fingers digging into the fabric until your knuckles whitened. “Because it wasn’t your business. I came here to work, not to… to fall into this. I never planned any of it.”
“That’s not good enough,” Sukuna shot back, frustration bleeding into her tone. She reached for your arm but you shifted away, the sheet still clutched between you. “I trusted you with everything. I put myself at risk every time I let you stay the night. And you left out the one thing that could get both of us destroyed. Why?”
The argument stretched, you told her the past didn’t define what you had now. She insisted that secrets like this were dangerous, that she needed to know. Your heart hammered harder with every exchange, the earlier tenderness replaced by a raw ache.
“My last lover was cruel to me,” you said, staring at the wrinkled sheet instead of her face. “She treated me harshly in bed and out of it. I-I was something to use whenever she felt like it. She made me feel small. I didn’t want you to look at me and see someone who let herself be treated that way.
Silence settled over the bed. Sukuna’s expression shifted, the anger draining into guilt. Her shoulders slumped, she looked at the way you held the sheet, at the distance you had put between your bodies, and something in her chest twisted painfully. You looked so small and so vulnerable and she has been nothing but invasive towards you. Looking back, believing her cruel husband before you was one of her worst decisions.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know. I never would have– gods… Please, my love, forgive me.”
You shook your head slowly, already reaching for the robe you had dropped earlier. The soft fabric settled over your shoulders, then around your thighs and your stomach. You tied it closed with careful fingers, covering every inch she had once mapped with her mouth.
“I don’t want to have sex tonight,” you said, voice steady even though your eyes stung. “I need to think.”
“That’s-That’s fine,” Sukuna nodded fast, swallowing with guilt written across her face. She stayed on the bed, naked and still, watching as you crossed the room. Your hand closed around the door handle, looking back for a second.
You opened it.
The Emperor stood right there in the dark hallway, taller than you remembered, face set in cold satisfaction. Before you could even draw breath a rough bag came down over your head, plunging you into black. Strong hands yanked you forward. The last thing you heard was Sukuna’s muffled scream, raw and desperate, cut short as the door slammed shut behind you.
You’ve never felt so much pain in your entire life, your whole back hurts from neck to the last vertebra of your spine. Blood is dripping all over your bedsheets after you’ve been denied medical assistance, which is even worse than the punishment itself. There’s at least five open wounds along your back, you remember perfectly everything that happened, even if your mind tries to make everything a blur. You remember from the argument with Sukuna, the Emperor appearing in her room and your body being damaged in front of who knows how many people.
Sukuna. Your mind races now, wondering what has happened to her and if she’s safe. Was she punished too? You know the Emperor, if he has destroyed you, you can’t imagine what Sukuna is going through.
When you try to get up, everything stings, you can’t hide the scream of pain that breaks from your lungs. You can’t walk properly, you can’t even cure yourself because the wounds are in your back and your arms are stiff.
Still, you force yourself to try. You peel off your blood-stained clothes in your bathroom and after a long time of spilling your water for a week of baths, you managed to pour a barrel of water over your wounds, to clean some of the dried blood. But the blood wasn’t dried, when you looked at the wounds in the window, after ignoring the urge to puke, the blood started coming out again.
At that moment, you just think that the only thing you have left to do is die. Either of blood loss, infection or suicide. The last one is probably the best outcome from all of this.
You sit on the floor, cleaning the blood at your sides however you can. You’re not crying anymore, it’s like you don’t have more tears left to cry. You catch yourself in the mirror, your whole body destroyed and marked forever.
That’s when you hear your door open fast, your whole body tenses in fear, there’s nothing else they can do to your body to destroy it more.
Sukuna rushes in, pink hair messy and wild around her face, red eyes filled with panic. She closes the door behind her as quietly as she can and drops to her knees right in front of you on the blood-slicked floor.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. Her hands hover over you, afraid to touch. “I should have never doubted you. I should have protected you better. This is all my fault. Every mark on your skin is because of me.”
You try to shift away, the movement sending fresh fire down your back. Blood still seeps from the open wounds, sticky against the cold bathroom tiles.
“You shouldn’t be here,” you manage through clenched teeth. “They’re going to catch you. Go back before someone sees. Please.”
She doesn’t listen, Sukuna slips an arm carefully under your shoulders and another under your knees, lifting you with ease. You bite back another scream as the wounds pull and stretch. She carries you to the bed, lays you face-down on the cleanest part of the sheets she can find and starts working.
Her fingers are gentle but trembling as she cleans the five long wounds with cool water and soft cloths she must have brought with her. Every pass of the fabric stings like fresh fire. You grip the edge of the mattress until your knuckles ache.
“I’m going to fix this,” she keeps saying. “I’ll find a way to get you out. I promise you, my love.”
You feel the weight of her guilt in every careful stroke. The stink of your blood mixes with the faint lavender smell of her. For a few minutes, there’s only the sound of your breathing and the splash of water.
“D-Did they hurt you?” you try to say, the words barely forming in your mouth.
“I’m alright, my flower, don’t worry about me. Your wounds are going to heal fine, yes? You’re going to be fine,” she assures you, starting to stitch the worst wound of all of them, your muffled screams and pleas making her heart ache.
It takes her roughly forty minutes to make the wounds stop bleeding and wrap your torso in bandages, but finally, she rests a hand on your arm telling you it’s over.
“Then go,” you mutter.
“I’m not leaving your side.”
“It’s dangerous, Sukuna. Stop being foolish and leave me.”
“I said no!”
You don’t have energy to fight with her, so you just let her be. You start to believe, just for a heartbeat, that the worst might be over. That this quiet moment could last.
Then the door slides open again.
Two guards step inside without knocking. Their armor clinks softly. One of them looks at Sukuna with pure disdain.
“Empress,” he says, voice flat. “This was your last opportunity to act like a dignified wife. Step away from the servant.”
The second guard moves forward and grabs your arm, hauling you up from the bed despite the blood that immediately soaks through the bandages. Pain explodes across your back. You can’t even scream properly this time.
They drag you toward the door. The last thing you see is Sukuna still kneeling by the bed, hands red with your blood, eyes locked on you in pure horror as the guards pull you out into the hallway once more.
You know the moment they drop you in a cell in the deepest and darkest dungeon that your life is over.
“She will be cursed.”
“NO.”
“YES.” The Emperor hits his fist on the table, his body buzzing with rage. “It is obvious that the young lady has a demon inside her, if she’s kept alive, who knows how many more women she will corrupt. She must be cursed.”
Sukuna’s knees nearly gave out. She stood in front of the same heavy table where he had questioned her about you only days before, every breath hurt.
“Please,” she said, voice raw. “Don’t curse her. Exile her from the empire instead, I will never speak her name again. Just don’t do this to her.”
The emperor’s face twisted into something ugly. He leaned forward, elbows on the wood, eyes locked on hers with pure contempt.
“You still defend the creature. That proves how deep the corruption goes. A demon sits inside that body of hers, it lured you into her bed and made my own wife forget her place. It did the same with other women in this very palace. I have seen it myself slipping into other chambers
Sukuna’s stomach turned. She knew it was false, you were only hers. But the way he said it, so certain, so calm, made her feel poisoned
“That isn’t true,” she whispered. “You know it isn’t.”
“I know what I saw,” he snapped. “And now the entire court will know it too. You will stand in the great hall tomorrow at noon, you will announce her crimes yourself. You will name her a demon who seduced the empress and other women of rank and sentence her to the curse with your own mouth.”
Sukuna’s hands started to shake. She pressed them against her sides so he would not see.
“I can’t,” she said. “I won’t.”
He stood slowly, the chair scraping back. The height difference that usually made him look smaller suddenly felt dangerous.
“You will. Or you die. I’m sure your father will be glad to receive your body in a sealed box. Choose, Sukuna. Humiliate her and live, or refuse and leave this world.”
Her eyes rang, she thought of your blood on her hands, how it is still drying under her nails. Every night with you suddenly felt like it belonged to another life.
“If I do this… if I say the words… will you at least let me keep her?”
The emperor smiled, cold and satisfied.
“That depends on how well you perform. Now get out of my sight and prepare yourself. Tomorrow you will prove you are still capable of being a dignified empress. Or you will not see another sunrise.”
Sukuna turned and walked out of the room on unsteady legs.
That night, she couldn’t sleep. Her whole life was ruined even more than in the beginning, she thinks and thinks about what she’s going to tell you. She has to lie to you, letting you hate and disgust her so you can rest in peace.
Sukuna turned and walked out of the room on unsteady legs.
That night, she couldn’t sleep. Her whole life was ruined even more than in the beginning. Sukuna sat on the edge of the bed she had once shared with you, bare feet pressed to the floor, hands locked together so tightly her nails left half-moons in her own skin. Every time she closed her eyes she saw you being dragged away, blood still fresh on your back, eyes full of the betrayal she had put there first.
She couldn’t stop the thoughts. They crashed into each other without order.
What if you look at her tomorrow and still search for something soft? What if you still believe she loves you even while the words leave her mouth? She can’t let that happen. If you hold on to any piece of her, the curse will hurt more. It is better that you hate her completely, better that you see her as a monster. In that way, you can let go faster, maybe the pain will be shorter. She stood up and paced again, her heart kept slamming against her ribs, she pressed a hand to her chest like she could slow it down by force. She should have protected you better, she should have sent you away the moment he started asking questions. Now she has to stand in front of the whole court and call the woman she loves a demon.
If she tells you the truth, that she’s being forced to do all that, you will try to save her. She knows you too damn well to know that you will, at least, try. Even when your own body is broken, you think of her first and she can’t let you do that again. She needs to be cruel, in some way, make you believe that none of it meant anything, that every night tangled together was a mistake.
Tomorrow she will walk into that hall and become the person everyone believes she is, willing to destroy the only good thing I ever had just to stay alive. That is the only gift she can still give you. Hate her so hard that when the curse takes hold you can close your eyes and feel nothing but relief that you are free of her.
The great hall was packed, everyone was there: nobles, servants, guards, even some of the concubines stood along the walls. In the center of the polished floor you knelt, wrists bound tightly behind your back with a rope that bit into your skin.
Sukuna entered from the side door wearing the formal empress robes, deep crimson and gold. The entire hall fell silent as she walked to the raised platform where the emperor already sat, watching everything with amusement.
She stopped a few paces in front of you, for a long second the only sound was the soft rustle of her sleeves.
When she spoke, her voice was empty of everything that had once been soft between you.
“This woman came into the palace under false pretenses. She used her position as my lady in waiting to spread corruption and she lured me into acts of impurity. She has done the same with other women of rank within these walls. A demon lives inside her.”
Your head snapped up, her words hitting harder than any whip. You stared at her, searching for the woman who had held you, who had cleaned your wounds with shaking hands only hours ago. All you found was a stranger.
“You’re lying!” you screamed, the sound echoed off the high ceiling. “You know that’s not true! Look at me, Sukuna! Look at me and say it again! You’re a liar! You loved me! You said you would keep me forever!”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, Sukuna’s jaw tightened, but she did not look away this time. Her eyes met yours, cold the way she had practiced all night.
“I never loved you,” she said, each word deliberate. “You were a mistake, a weakness I allowed because I was lonely. You used your body to poison me. I see the truth now.”
“Liar!” You strained against the ropes until your shoulders screamed. Tears already streamed down your face, hot and uncontrolled. “You held me! You kissed every part of me! You cried in my arms! Don’t you dare stand there and pretend none of it was real! You’re just scared of him! You’re a coward and a liar!”
Sukuna’s hands curled into fists at her sides, hidden by the long sleeves. Her voice rose to cut through your screams.
“I sentence you to the curse. Let the demon be burned from your body. Let every soft and sinful part of you be unmade so that no other woman will fall to the same corruption.”
There’s only one fate worse than death, and that’s being cursed. The Emperor hides a court of mages that perform cruel spells to the worst kind of the Empire, and now the love of your life has sentenced you to an infinite state of emptiness. You’ve only heard rumors about how the curses are, but they’re meant to be fatal and painful.
You screamed her name over and over, mixing with accusations and pleas that no longer made sense. Tears and snot ran down your face. Your body shook so hard the ropes creaked and the wounds on your back split open again, fresh blood soaking through the thin fabric for everyone to see.
Sukuna stood motionless above you, face carved from stone, while the emperor smiled from his seat and the hall watched in hungry silence. The only soft thing left in the room was the sound of your heart breaking out loud.
Sukuna cries at your gilded feet now, regretting every decision she ever made from the day she was born. Maybe she was selfish, convincing the Emperor to let her keep you even if you are now a gold statue, but she was sure that her destiny was a premature death, and having you even at this state reminds her to keep living.
Because if she dies, she will never find a way to bring you back.
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a/n: i'm so fucking nervous about this, it's been a long time since i don't write a fic this long. i hope this is fine and that you guys enjoyed it even if it's just a little cause i'm very proud of it<3 obviously special thanks to my girl @fancy-possum because she also helped me a lot with this<4
Can you make another co-worker!Sukuna where reader had to bring the baby again to work and as soon as she lays out her eyes on sukuna, she makes grabby hands and tries to wiggle out of her mom >< Thank you for ur service💆
just a short one before i go to sleep :)
“sorry.” you sigh, carrying your daughter on your hip as the office door closes behind you. she's a little bigger since you last brought her in, and stronger too, almost pushing you off kilter when she reaches for the diaper bag's strap over your other shoulder. the phrase 'they grow up too fast' becomes much clearer as you experience motherhood first-hand; it doesn't make sense that your tiny newborn has already grown to be half the size of you. "my friend is getting her in an hour, it won't be long."
sukuna turns in his desk chair, eyes darting between yourself and your daughter.
he shrugs. "not a problem." your pink haired colleague replies and begins to turn back to the monitor, but stops when your daughter squeals, reaching two chubby hands forward. it's hard not to topple over with her determination, and you grip her a little tighter. she remains noncompliant.
in fact, she continues to writhe and wriggle despite your efforts to calm her, desperately reaching ahead.
"what is it?" you question quietly, though you soon find an answer as sukuna stands, and her grabby hands appear to follow him. her eyes widen and she excitedly smiles, revealing four small teeth at the front of her mouth.
"she must remember you," you comment, stopping her once again from slipping from your arms. "from last time."
it's uncomfortable for you, embarrassment warming your face, but it's apparent this comes naturally to sukuna as he scoops her from your arms. she giggles.
"s'alright." sukuna's a man of few words and strong opinions, so being paternal felt out of the equation to you - yet here he was.
he sits back down at his desk, your daughter perched over one thigh, his free hand thoughtfully pushing every item away from her grasp (though she tries hard to reach the tape dispenser), you feel a fluttering in your chest.
streamer!sukuna was never really the affectionate type. at least he never really looked the part is what his followers assumed. tall, broad, muscular, a scowl, and death glare that went on for miles. even though he had fan girls who would swear upon everything that he would definitely be a good boyfriend, the mutual consensus is that he was definitely not affectionate.
his latest stream, he was showing off his newest piercings while taking a small break from his long-term gaming session. he'd just gotten an eyebrow piercing and tongue piercing. of course, this just suited his face even more. he remarked that he'd only done it because he had lost a bet to a fellow streamer, satoru gojo.
"well, i ended up actually liking it," he shrugs about to begin a new game when a clatter could be heard outside the room. his expression looked worried as he hadn't even addressed his audience or chat before getting up and hurrying out the room.
you really shouldn't have been trying to cook and be quiet all at once while your boyfriend streamed upstairs. it's not that you couldn't be quiet, it's that this apartment was clearly engineered for your much taller boyfriend. the pot being on the very top shelf only led to disaster as you climbed up on the counter on the very tips of your toes, were able to grab the pot you wanted, before promptly losing your balance and falling down onto the ground. luckily for you, your clumsiness throughout your life had made you extremely durable to silly falls and hurting yourself at times. however, this one really hurt, as not only had you landed on your butt, but you dropped the pot on your toe. however what scared you more was your boyfriend hurrying over to you, and pulling you into the tightest bear hug. a few seconds passed before he pulled away giving you a once over. no visible blood, that's a plus.
"are you alright?" those deep red eyes looked into your face with a wide-eyed look, inspecting to make sure there weren't any miniscule details of pain either.
"mhm, i'm sorry, did i interrupt your stream?" you frowned, the one thing you were trying to avoid.
"i don't care about that, brat." it seemed he'd accepted that you seemed alright, leaning in to kiss your cheek and pull you into yet another hug, one where his arms moved to close around your legs and back to pick you up and carry you over to the couch. "stay here for just a second, i'm gonna end the stream and then we'll order in." he headed upstairs quickly ending his stream with his usual outro but sped up by a lot. he barely even got out a til next time before ending the stream and ordering your favorite in, his followers might have been saddened and confused by the stream's sudden ending, but you were happy that you knew the truth. your boyfriend was outwardly affectionate towards you.
