nobody knows their favorite singer secretly posts videos of himself fucking his girlfriend ąØą§ choso kamo x fem!reader ąØą§ i can't write smut for shit but i still hope you guys like it <3
choso does the unthinkable. he brings you on stage at one particular sold out concert. you didn't know he was gonna do that. the crowd goes wild, screaming and cheering. you see some fans give you stink faces but you just smirk at them.
choso is a part of one of the biggests bands. he is super famous, more famous than you could've ever predicted. fans go crazy over him, selling out his shows in seconds. you're proud of him.
what people don't know is their favorite singer shoots sex videos with his lovely girlfriend.
he's pretty famous on those sites too. many people subscribe to watch both of you pleasure each other. he makes so much money just from shooting with you, and no one even knows its him.
after the concert, he takes you to his hotel room. he doesn't even sit for a minute and rest. he sets his phone up, making sure the camera doesn't catch your faces, and pushes you against the wall.
the camera starts recording as his hands trail over your body.
"all for me, ay?" he says deeply, nipping your ears and squeezing the plush of your ass. you arch your back, pressing into him. you can feel his bulge press against you and you smile.
"this for me too?" you give him a seductive smile, hand trailing down to squeeze the bulge gently. he huffs, stuffing his face into your neck.
he rubs against your hand, whining at the feeling. you kiss his cheek and peel him off of you.
he catches your lips, tongue diving in your mouth in record time. choso hates wasting time. he licks your mouth all over, moaning at the taste while you try to keep up.
he pushes your dress up, hands squeezing your thighs before yanking your panties down agressively. he knows what the viewers like.
his hands run all over your hips as he kisses you like you're the air he needs to breathe. he squeezes your ass in his hands and rubs his bulge over your bare cunt.
"fuck." he whispers into your mouth. pre cum soaks his boxers while your slick soaks his pants. he loves the feeling.
he pulls your dress off all the way and smiles at the sight. no bra, just how he likes it. he takes one of your nipples into his mouth and sucks on it, making you gasp sharply.
he smiles, pulling away and unbuttoning his pants. you pant softly, waiting for him.
when he pulls his boxers down, his cock springs out. you have to hold from laughing. he was always so cute. his cheeks flush, no matter how confident he may seem, he always got shy when it came to this.
he glances at you with a shy smile.
"want my cock bad, baby, huh?" he says with a raspy voice, though his expression on his face is innocent. the viewers can't see his face, they can't see the cute blush on his cheeks and the sweet smile on his lips.
filming with choso was always like this. he always has the cutest expressions while saying dirty things.
you pull him close by his waist and kiss him, rubbing your hips on his. he pumps his cock once, moaning, then again.
"do i need to prepare you?" he whispers, asking genuinely. you shake your head. "im good."
he smiles sweetly, pecking your lips.
"gonna fuck you so good." he says raspy again. you try not to giggle at the acting, but it is kind of funny.
he picks you up by the thighs and pushes you against the wall. he lines his cock up to your hole and slowly pushes in. the burn is yummy, as he fills you up.
"ughh!" you moan loudly. you hold onto his shoulders as he finally sinks all the way in. the feeling is familiar but it still feels very good. choso takes a moment to let you adjust before slowly rocking his hips.
"fuck, baby, you're so warmāmm." he mumbles out as he takes you. you arch your back against the wall as he starts to thrust a little harder.
"shit squeezing so tight!" he whimpers, fucking your pussy harshly. you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders, leaving small crescents on his skin.
"soāfull, ngh!" you cry out. choso picks up the pace, hitting right up against your sweet spot. you whine loudly as he bullies the spot. his tips pounds over and over again till you feel your stomach tighten.
your pussy starts to clench tightly and choso starts to thrust sloppily.
"fuckāso tight! squeezing me soāshitātight." he whines into your shoulder.
you can't hold on much longer, letting go and cumming on his cock. choso moans at the feeling of you clenching down on him. he nearly cries out from the pressure.
you feel him finish inside, rocking his cock in and out slowly. he pulls out and carries you to the bed. he kisses your shoulder before walking to his phone and turning the video off.
he'll edit and post it later, for now, he wants to be with you.
choso just needs a little help ąØą§ choso kamo x fem!reader ąØą§ i need him to mark me
you wake up to slobbery tits and a whimpering boy beside you. choso rubs his bulge against your hips while he whines against your nipple. he doesn't realize you're awake till you tangle your fingers in his hair.
he pulls off of you quickly, looking down in shame.
"it's okay, cho." you comfort him, pulling his face back down onto your nipple. "keep going."
his lips latch onto your nipple quickly, sucking and licking while rubbing his bulge harder on your hips. whines escape his throat as he uses you to fix his little problem.
he releases your nipple from his mouth and gives a harsh suck on the side of your boob. you let out a whimper, smiling at the whiny boy.
he starts to mark every part of your chest till you're covered in purple marks.
his bulge ruts sloppily against your hips. you reach down, pushing past his waistband and grabbing his cock. it's hot and hard. your thumb meets the tip, wet with precum.
choso whines. throwing his head into your neck and whining some more. "pleaseāh-help."
you smile, teasing his leaking tip with your thumb. he twitches, whimpering about how good you feel.
"wanna be inside." he mumbles. you shake your head. "not yet, cho."
he whines and you swipe your thumb on his tip with a bit of pressure. he immediately lets out a pathetic moan, curling into your side and using your hand to get off.
he cums quickly, sighing and whimpering in your ear. you keep your hand around his heavy cock, waiting for him to come down his high so you can do it again.
[šš] :: true form!sukuna ātryingā to share a romantic moment in the rain with his favorite concubine :: tags. fluff, suggestive.
sukuna never understood humans.
they always say and do things that annoy him in a way. though after meeting youāhis favorite little concubineāthat annoyance has slowly started to turn into fondness. something he isnāt ready to accept or even acknowledge.
ācome inside and quit your foolishness,ā the king of curses groans, sighing for the nth time. his four arms are crossed over his chest and his expression is unreadable. heās exasperated by your silly antics once more.
itās rainingāpouringāyet youāre outside in the courtyard. youāre smiling from ear to ear as you hop from puddle to puddle, enjoying the cold droplets that continuously fall and wet your skin.
āoh, come on! itās fun,ā you giggle, urging sukuna to join you.
the pink-haired man only shakes his head and clenches his jaw. he doesnāt see the fun in being out there when it rains. he doesnāt understand why youāre so happy about getting dirty and wet. the kimono youāre wearing is one he specifically ordered for you and here you are, ruining it.
sukuna wants to get angry, but for some reason he canāt bring himself to raise his voice or show his disdain. the smile on your face and your happy giggles refrain him from doing or saying anything too hurtful.
if it were any of his other concubines, heād probably have punished them the second he saw them being somewhere they shouldnāt.
but that doesnāt mean sukuna isnāt going to talk you out of it. or try to.
āyāll get sick, brat. get back here i said,ā sukuna calls out with a frown.
he lets out a low groan of frustration when you simply continue to walk around happily in the rain. are you seriously not aware of how fragile humans are? being in this cold with little coverage is going to make you sick.
sukuna has had enough of your antics. he stomps forward, not caring about the rain thatās wetting his clothes. he just wants you to get inside and dry. he frowns and opens his mouth, ready to scold you.
however, as he closes the distance between you two, his voice got stuck in his throat. the sight that greets him makes his frown slowly disappear.
his eyes wander over your face and body from up close, finally noticing just how beautiful you are while enjoying the stormy weather. the pure joy looks good on you.
youāre soaked, clothes and hair dripping wet, and yet you still manage to captivate him. the carefree smile on your face only adds to your charm. sukuna stops just an armās length from you, eyes narrowing.
you turn to face him properly and chuckle. āthank you for coming out to play with me,ā you comment half-jokingly.
you reach out to hold onto two of sukunaās hands, tilting your head back to stare at him with those eyes.
those puppy eyes that will make even a ruthless monster like him calm down.
sukuna clears his throat and grumbles, āthis is stupid.ā
you laugh softly as you notice how heās trying to hide the effect you have on him, though you know better than to address it directly. you wrap your arms around his waist, your bodies now pressed together. you tilt your head with a teasing grin, āreaaally? is it now?ā
sukuna rolls his eyes, but doesnāt make a move to push you away. he can feel every curve of your frame pressing against his through your wet clothes and the sensation sure is tantalising.
his large hands move on their own. two settle on your waist while one other creeps up your back to come tangle into your hair, yanking slightly at the strands to make you tilt your head back.
sukuna leans down, his red eyes focused on your parted lips that are calling out to him. his mouth is on yours before he realises it, claiming you in a fierce kiss.
the rain continues to fall around you two, but neither of you seem to care. youāre too lost in the feeling of each other to pull away from the intimate kiss. your lips are moving in tandem, tongues brushing together.
you only pull away when you run out of air. you breathe heavily as you look up at sukuna, seeing the same yearning reflected in his piercing eyes. it makes your tummy tingleāmakes you feel all giddy to know the power you have over such an unfeeling man.
sukuna doesnāt say a thing. the tension between you two is only emphasised by the rain. the continuous pitter patter of the droplets seems to only increase with time, making it harder to see, yet also intensifies the unspoken feelings. perhaps now he can understand what humans find so romantic about being in the rain with their someone.
but thereās this all-consuming thought that drives his mind towards a more dark place. looking at you with your kimono hugging every curve, the water drops dripping down your bare skin and your half-lidded eyes staring at him like heās all you care aboutāitās making the king of curses want to devour you whole. a carnal desire that threatens to take over every time he feels that foolish, sappy emotion which humans call love.
sukuna snaps out of his daze and a muscle in his jaw ticks. he grabs your wrist and cocks his head towards the doors leading inside.
āalright, letās get yār ass inside,ā he huffs and starts dragging you off with him, āi donāt want you complaininā to me when you get sick, yāhear?ā
you whine but now better than to struggle. you walk with him, heart still racing as you think of the intimate kiss you shared. you know youāre the only one who gets the privilege to kiss the king of curses, to be so close to him, to have him indulge your silly requests, to have him look at you with such insatiable desire.
it makes you even giddier thinking about it.
you look up at the back of sukunaās head as he guides you inside of the palace, attempting to convince him to extend your little romantic outing, ācan we do it agaiāā
choso just wants to do you a favor and give into your fantasy ąØą§ choso kamo x fem!reader ąØą§ i need him to wake me up like this
choso remembers the first serious talk about intimacy you had. he specifically remembers you saying you wanted to be woken up with fingers buried deep inside you, why not make that reality now?
he wakes up from his slumber with a boner growing in his boxers. he assumed he had a wet dream even though he can't really remember. his skin is sticky in sweat as he sits up.
you're laying on your back, sleeping soundly. he watches you for a few minutes before remembering exactly what you said.
he lays back down next to you, kissing your cheek as he hand dips into your panties. he can feel your warmth and he nearly makes a sticky mess in his pants.
he slides a finger inside your pussy. it's not wet, you're asleep, not even close to being aroused. he doesn't want to hurt you so he pulls his finger out. he gathers spit on his fingers and dips them back into your panties.
he rolls two fingers around your clit and he feels you twitch. he stops for a second, making sure you're still asleep before continuing to roll circles on your pretty bud.
you twitch again but this time he doesn't stop. he can feel you getting wetter by the second, your body reacts to him so quickly. he watches your face, your chest heaving up and down.
he wonders if you think you're dreaming.
when you finally get wet enough, he slips one finger into your hole, reaching that one spongey spot. your chest heaves more but somehow you haven't woken up.
he slides another finger in. he can feel a stretch and he hears your breath hitch. he keeps going, thumb rubbing your clit as he fucks his fingers into you.
your pussy reacts to his every move even if you're not conscious. choso thinks it's sexy. he continues fingering your poor pussy till he feels you clench around his fingers.
you gasp, eyes opening, finally coming back to consciousness.
it takes you a few seconds to realize what was happening. choso fingering you while you slept.
a fantasy, one you wanted to experience for the longest.
you smile lazily at choso, pulling him close as he leaves his fingers in your soaked pussy.
he doesn't say anything, his thumb gently nudges your clit again and he feels you get wetter. he smirks, moving his fingers again, this time with you awake.
Summary: Sukuna is tired of seeing his favourite bartender upset over her bum ass boyfriend
āWhiskey,ā Sukuna said, dropping into his usual stool, the seat with the best view of you while you worked. āThe expensive one please.ā
āYou donāt tip enough for the expensive one,ā you teased.
A low laugh rumbled from him. āThere she is.ā
The bar was quieter tonight; rain against the windows, old rock humming from the speakers, neon signs buzzing dimly overhead. The kind of night that dragged exhaustion into your bones.
Sukuna watched you the whole time. He wasnāt subtle about it either.
āYou look annoyed sweetheart,ā he said.
āIām working, so duh.ā
āThat isnāt what I meant.ā
You slid the drink toward him. āMaybe drink instead of psychoanalyzing me.ā
He took a sip without breaking eye contact.
āBoyfriend piss you off again?ā
Your jaw tightened for half a second and that smug bastard noticed.
āMm.ā He leaned back on the stool. āSo thatās a yes.ā
āHe forgot to pick me up after my shift yesterday.ā You regretted saying it immediately.
Sukuna snorted. āAgain?ā
āHe was busy,ā you broke eye contact knowing Sukuna can read you like a book.
āLet me guess; he was drunk or out partyin.ā
Silence.
Because he was.
You started wiping down an already clean section of the counter just to avoid answering the question.
Sukuna tilted his head slightly, tattoos shifting against his sharp cheekbones as he studied you.
āYou make excuses for him a lot.ā
āYeahā¦ sometimes thatās what itās like being in a relationship, also you donāt even know him.ā
āI know enough.ā Another sip. āSaw him in here last week hanging off some blonde in a red dress.ā
Your stomach twisted. āHe wasnātāā
āHe was.ā
You hated that he noticed everything. Hated that some reckless little part of you liked being noticed by him, that it felt like he cared.
āYou know,ā he continued casually, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, āif I had my girl waiting for me after her long shitty shift, I wouldnāt forget herā¦definitely not if it was you.ā
Your hands paused. āSukunaāā
āNo, really.ā He leaned forward now, elbows resting on the counter. āIām trying to figure out what exactly this idiot offers thatās worth all this disappointment.ā
āHeās my boyfriend.ā
āThat didnāt answer the question.ā
Heat crawled up your neck. He grinned slowly when he noticed.
God, that grin was dangerous.
āYou work double shifts,ā he continued. āYou remember his birthday, your anniversary, probably his coffee order too.ā His eyes dragged over you lazily. āMeanwhile he canāt stay sober long enough to pick you up on time.ā
āYouāre drunk right now.ā
āI barely finished my first drinkā¦but even drunk I could never forget such a pretty face.ā
That shouldnāt have affected you.
But then he reached across the counter ā slow enough for you to pull away if you wanted ā and placed his hand over yours.
The touch felt unfairly warm.
āIām serious,ā Sukuna murmured. āYou keep wasting yourself on men who donāt know what to do with you.ā
Your breath caught. His thumb brushed against your pulse.
āI would.ā
Your breath hitched, and you pulled your hand away slightly; shocked by Sukunaās confession.
āThink about it sweetheart,ā he said tapping your hand lightly before pulling away to pay for his drink.
ā” sukuna realizes that he does get jealous after all. . .
series masterlist
sukuna will say this very seriously, he does not get jealous. the emotion itself is beneath him.
that is until yuji coming home from school, jumping in place.
āi made a friend today!!ā
āyou did?ā you ask. āso what are they like?ā
āhis nameās megumi and he likes dogs and dinosaurs too and he traded me his pudding because i gave him my chocolate!ā
yuji keeps talking without stopping.
āand heās really quiet but he laughed when i scared a pigeon away and megumi said maybe we can go to the park together and can we please please pleaseāā
ājiā okay, okay,ā you laugh. āslow down.ā
his eyes widen instantly. āreally?!ā
āif megumiās dad says yes, sure.ā
yuji cheers.
later that week you end up exchanging numbers with megumiās father after pickup.
toji fushiguro, he introduced himselfā pretty tall, scar across his mouth, seems normal enough, though.
the playdate gets set for saturday afternoon, and sukuna seems pretty indifferent to it or at least he pretends to.
āyouāre taking yuji to the park?ā he asks while scrolling through his phone.
āmhm.ā
āso, whoās the kidā or more like, you know their parent?ā
āwell.. a little?ā you say thoughtfully. ātoji fushiguro.. i think?ā
āā¦fushiguro?ā
you blink. āhm? you know him?ā
āused to run in similar circles.ā sukuna looks deeply annoyed already. āguyās a pain in the ass.ā
āwell.. he seemed nice?ā
āthatās because the guy likes pretending.ā
you snort. āyouāre dramatic, itāll be fiiine.ā
āiām serious.ā
ābaby, iām going to a playground. not a nightclub.ā
sukuna looks at you for a long second, then sighs.
āfine, do what you want.ā
which, surprisingly, he actually meansā he fully intends to let you have your little park day in peace.
because really.. what could happen?
apparently a lot.
because now sukunaās standing outside a convenience store a few minutes away while staring at his phone with growing irritation.
he just cannot stay at home while knowing youāre out with that damned black-haired man, so he lasts another three minutes before getting back in his car.
meanwhile, youāre sitting at the park bench while yuji and megumi run toward the playground together.
ābe careful!ā you call after them.
toji sits beside you a second later holding two juice boxes and an iced coffee.
ākid asked me to bring extras,ā he says, handing you the iced coffee.
āthanks!ā
ādonāt mention it.ā
for a while itās easy and comfortable, you talk while the boys play. mostly about schoolā how both boys have been doing, how megumi apparently refuses to sleep without his stuffed wolf, how yuji always has endless energy no matter what.
āso.. that your kid, right?ā toji asks eventually, nodding toward yuji.
you smile. āwell no.. but technically my nephew.ā
ācouldāve fooled me.ā
you shrug slightly. āhe does feel like my own, though.ā
āclearly.ā
talking to toji is surprisingly easy, the guys laid back, which is probably why the next thing out of his mouth makes you second guess.
āyou single?ā
oh..
but before you can even answer, another voice cuts in.
āno, sheās not.ā
you look up immediately.
sukuna stands there behind both of you wearing all black with sunglasses pushed into his hair.
he looks weirdly calm, which means he definitely heard enough to annoy him.
toji glances between both of you once before leaning back slightly.
āoh! what are you doing here?ā you say surprised.
āwas just getting something to drink.ā
āfrom the park..?ā
āeh, crazy coincidence.ā
toji snorts quietly beside youā big mistake, because sukunaās eyes immediately slide toward him.
āfushiguro.ā
āryomen.ā
you can absolutely feel the tension in the air.
you look between them slowly. āoh my god.. you actually know each other.ā
āunfortunately,ā they say at the exact same time.
yuji spots sukuna from across the playground and immediately lights up.
āUNCLE KUNA!!ā
he abandons megumi and runs across the grass at full speed before slamming directly into sukunaās legs.
sukuna just rests a hand on yujiās head. ānow get off me brat, youāre sweaty.ā
āwe were racing!ā
āthat so?ā
āi won!ā
megumi finally walks over, hands shoved into his little pockets.
āyuji cheated..ā he says quietly.
ādid not!ā
āyou pushed me!ā
youāre trying not to laugh while yuji now clings to sukunaās arm, and you get up to approach both.
toji watches the interaction for a second, then he looks back at you.
āā¦damn my bad,ā he says finally. ācute little family you got there.ā
sukuna goes quiet for a second, then his arm hooks around your waist possessively.
āexactly,ā he says. āknow where you stand, fushiguro.ā
You'd always heard horror stories of friends staying the night at each other's houses and not knowing how to work their showers. You'd also considered yourself smarter than the average cookie because that has never happened to you. Most showers seem self explanatory.
And then, you stay the night at your boyfriend's for the first time and take a look at his stupidly expensive shower.
You eye the four knobs that control temperature and the dozen jets, two waterfalls (one higher, one lower (what is the lower one for?)), the removable showerhead and what you're assuming is the rainfall head. The symbols on the knobs may as well be hieroglyphics, giving next to no insight on how to turn this mother fucker on without being soaked immediately by the jets.
You don't even try. You wrap yourself in a towel and walk back into the adjoining bedroom, shaking your head with your eyebrows raised.
"Satoru, what the fuck is that?" you ask, motioning behind you to the bathroom.
"A shower..?" he says, looking up from his phone. His eyebrows furrow in his own confusion.
"Yes," you reply through grit teeth. "How do I turn it on?"
"Oh!" He jumps up from his bed and crosses the room to you, placing a hand on your hip and a kiss to your lips as he leads you back into the bathroom. "Why didn't you just say that, love? I'm more than willing to show you."
Satoru opens the glass door and steps in the shower, dragging you along with him. He points at the individual knobs and explains each of the symbols, explaining which is best for which occasion - the misters for when you're hot, rainfall for normal showers, waterfall for when you want to feel like you're lost in the jungle and it's been a week and you're losing hope of being found, etc.
You're giggling by the time he finishes his spiel and he's got his own 1000 kilowatt smile plastered on his face and turned on you.
"So what'll it be tonight?" he asks, clapping his hands together. "The waterfall is a personal favorite."
"A normal shower, please."
"Can do, baby." He kisses your cheek and sets the shower to your preferred setting. "The temperature control turns the water on," he says, stepping out of the shower.
Your towel drops to the floor just as he's exiting, the sound making his head crane back around to catch a glimpse of your ass before you step into the fog of the shower.
"You know, on second thought," he says, grabbing your attention as his shirt joins your towel. "Maybe we should shower together. Just in case you have questions."
pro tip: don't talk bad about yourself in front of sukuna | mdni suggestive
to say sukuna doesn't like when you disrespect yourself would be untrue, because he doesn't even let you get that far. you're his, which means when you talk bad about yourself, you're offending him too.
he'll slap your ass as he passes by you getting a bowl of fruit in the kitchen, in nothing but one of his shirts and an old pair of pj shorts, hair a mess. he lets out a "fuck, don't tempt me right now," his eyes scanning you from head to toe with that familiar heat in them.
your brows furrow in confusion and you literally go to the bathroom to look in the mirror to check that your appearance didn't magically ameliorate from the last time you saw yourself. he follows you and you're almost offended when you look in the mirror. is he playing a prank on you?
"what? i literally look-"
his hand comes to grab your throat gently but firm, a brow raised as he stares down at you and then through the mirror. "you look what?" his gaze is daring you to say something negative.
you can feel that he's not joking. you swallow, "um, good?"
he hums satisfied and pulls you closer, bending down to kiss you, the way his tongue smoothly finds its way into your mouth has heat spreading through your body.
he pulls back and looks you over again appreciatively, smushing your cheeks playfully before walking away. "s'what i thought."
šā Ė ą£Ŗ . ĖĖ true form!sukuna finds out youāve been hiding your injuries from him :: tags. concubine!reader. fluff, angst n comfort. size diff. reader gets called ābrat, womanā
āiāve arrived, my lord,ā you announce your presence as you step into sukunaās quarters. the dimly lit room removes all the stress you currently had in your systemāthe knowledge that youāre safe in his space causes your shoulders to drop.
sukuna turns his head to look at you while heās laid back on his bed, topless. all four of his eyes roam over your body, which isnāt anything unusual. he always does that.
ātch. took ya long enough,ā the king of curses scoffs before gesturing for you to come closer, making that familiar motion with his fingers, āwhen i order yā to come, youāre supposed to drop everything and rush to be at my service, woman.ā
you hurry over to his side of the bed with a nod. āmy apologies,ā you mutter.
you canāt tell him why youāre late, because hell would break loose within these walls. and also because youāre scared of what his reaction would be.
before being called over, you were in the kitchen, peacefully trying to get a snack, when two other concubines entered the room. you tried ignoring them, but that didnāt seem to be the smartest move. it wasnāt long before they threw derogatory remarks at you.
of course, you stood up for yourself and yelled some back. thatās when one of them pushed you backwards, causing the skin near your hand to get slightly burned by the fire on the stove.
if it werenāt for the maids around that went to report the ruckus to uraume, god knows what more would have went down in that kitchen.
āoi,ā sukuna grabs your jaw and lifts your head up.
he immediately notices the vacant look in your eyes, which is unusual for you. you snap out of your trance and set the nasty memories asideāignoring the impulse to scratch the injury on your wrist.
āiām sorry,ā you say again before slowly undoing your obi.
you figure that is why sukuna had called you over, to do your job as his concubine. you halt your movements when you realise that undressing meant that heās going to see the wound on your skin.
you hesitate. that same instant of hesitation doesnāt go unnoticed by the king of curses. a large hand moves to stop both of your wrists from pulling off your robes.
ā. . .iām giving yā three seconds of my time,ā sukuna narrows his eyes after allowing you to speak up and tell him whatās on your mind.
he hears you whimper in pain when he holds onto your wrist, your facial expression clearly uncomfortable. āspit it out,ā he impatiently huffs. he wants to hear you say whatās wrong.
you desperately shake your head, biting your bottom lip. you donāt want to tell himāeven though you know youāre obligated to.
denying an answer to sukuna was your next big mistake.
āfuckinā brat,ā the man grunts. he yanks your arms up to his face, harshly pulling down the sleeves of your kimono. all four of his red eyes immediately fall onto the wound on your wrist. you obviously havenāt treated it yet, even though you should have done so long ago.
thereās tension hanging in the air almost instantly after your little secret gets revealed.
sukunaās grip on your hands tightens which causes you to flinch. you close your eyes and expect the worst. you can already hear the insults heāll throw at youāhow heāll call you useless, weak, stupid and all that.
ālook up at me,ā his voice rings out in a firm tone. you donāt want to anger him more than he already is, so you obey. you open your eyes and glance upwards, your worried gaze meeting his.
sukuna takes a deep breath to contain the bubbling rage inside of him; a rare sight indeed. he doesnāt want to unnecessarily lash out at you when it isnāt needed. however, he canāt deny that itching urge in his chest, to get mad at whoever caused your skin to get tainted like that.
sukuna stares at you with an intimidating glare. when you expect him to yell profanities at you, the unexpected happens.
āwho did this to you?ā he asks, deep voice strained like heās trying to hold himself back.
you blink a few times. sukuna sounds pissed off, and when heās in that kind of mood, you know heās not to be played with. you look the other way and try to think of a proper answer.
will you snitch and cause unnecessary bloodbath, or will you spare the lives of the concubines who hurt you and lie?
youāre scared of being seen as useless by sukuna if you tell him the truth. if you lie, heāll probably call you weak and stupid as well. itās a lose-lose situation, you conclude.
you swallow the spit that has gathered in your mouth before parting your lips.
ām-miko,ā her name echoes in his ears.
you decide to be honest, because you know that thereās no fooling the ryomen sukuna. a second of silence follows and when you look up at him, he stares back at you with furrowed brows.
āah,ā you then realise that he doesnāt know his concubines by name. he has way too many women at his disposal and doesnāt find them worthy enough to remember.
however you have heard from uraume and the others that he does know your nameāonly yours. it makes you feel special.
you try to describe the concubine youāve tussled with, āshort blonde hair, uhm, mole under her right eye.. brown colored eyesāā
sukuna thinks for a moment before clicking his tongue once he faintly remembers who thatās supposed to be. without a word, he stands up and wraps one muscular arm around your waist, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you under his armpit like some package.
āuraume!ā
his voice is loud enough to make the walls shake and it carries a clear hint of pure rage. everyone in the estate should have heard him by now, which means that they know what is going down in just a couple seconds.
sukuna sounding this angry only means one thing; someone is going to die today.
the servants hurriedly scurry around, deeply bowing as he walks past them in the hallway with you still tucked underneath his arms. you let yourself be carried while your heart beats uncontrollably fast in your chest.
you feel your hands shake a bit. seeing someone like sukuna be this mad for your sakeāto the point that heās ready to turn the entire area upside downāis somehow thrilling. though, you canāt help but feel sick because of your own thoughts.
someone is going to die and there you are, cheesing about the king of curses.
you see the white-haired chef appear from a corner, their steps hurried. they glance at you and then back at their master. itās like they immediately connect the dots.
ātreat her in my quarters. donāt let her leave until i come back,ā sukuna commands without even looking at uraume. heās staring ahead, with an ominous aura emitting from his body, one that somebody can sense from miles away.
he puts you down next to uraume before glancing your way one last time. he lets out a deep sigh as he sees the worried expression youāre making. he lowers his head to your level so youād be face to face.
āand you,ā his warm breath hits your cheeks and sends a shiver down your spine. you gulp as sukunaās hand reaches up to firmly tug at your earlobe, āiāll deal with your ass later, yeah? iāll make you feel what it means to hide stuff from me.ā
that sentence makes you even more nervous. you know you wonāt be able to avoid the punishment sukuna has in mind, so you simply nod.
āunderstood,ā you reply in a squeaky voice. you donāt have the guts to disobey himāheās already out to kill someone and you donāt want to be the next victim.
sukuna straightens his back again and continues his journey towards the concubinesā quarters. every heavy step makes the floors and walls shake, a sign of his unstoppable rage thatās about to be unleashed.
you feel slightly puzzled. you didnāt expect this outcome when you revealed your injury to the ruthless man. you expected to be belittled and mocked for not being able to prevent a wound from being inflicted on your body.
instead, there he goes, off to get revenge in your stead. you feel a twisted sense of satisfaction after seeing sukuna be this protective over you. actions like these demonstrate more than his dull words can do, even if it may seem like he doesnāt care about what could happen to a human like you.
[šš] :: true form!sukuna finds out his favorite pregnant concubine is injured :: tags. fluff, angst, reader gets called āwomanā :: ac. @/greybookman on x
you want that damn scroll.
one of the old texts on yokai lore sukuna left half-unrolled on a high shelf days ago. boredom and the restless energy of pregnancy drives you to it. standing on the tips of your toes, with one hand braced against the lacquered cabinet, you stretch up.
your belly, round and full at nearly eight months, shifts heavily. the baby kicks hard as if protesting.
ājust... a little moreāā
the wood creaks. your foot slips on the woven tatami mat and then the world tilts.
you hit the floor with a sharp cry, pain lancing through your side and wrist. the scroll clatters beside you. for a moment you lie there, breathlessly. your hand instinctively cradles your belly. the baby moves again. itās still strong and alive.
relief floods you, but itās followed quickly by fear.
because your hear them. those heavy footsteps echo down the corridor. too fast and way too purposeful.
the sliding doors slam open with enough force to rattle the entirre frame. sukuna stands there, all four beefy arms tense, crimson eyes blazing with immediate and lethal irritation. the mouth on his abdomen twists into a snarl before the one on his face even opens.
he takes one look at you on the floor, at the displaced cabinet, the way you clutch your wrist and the temperature in the room seems to drop.
āwhat,ā he growls, āis the meaning of this, woman?ā
you try to push yourself up. trying to make yourself seem presentable, āitās nothing, my lord. i onlyāā
ādo not.ā
two of his arms move before you can finish. one massive hand catches your shoulder while the other slides beneath your knees. he lifts you as if you weigh nothing before carrying you to the thick futon piled with silks. the third hand hovers over your belly, not quite touching, while the fourth grips your injured wrist with surprising gentleness. though his expression promises murder.
you wince as he probes the swelling. a bruise is seemingly already blooming.
sukunaās eyes narrow at the bruise on your wrist. something inside him twists, āyou fell.ā
āwell, i reached for a scroll,ā you admit quietly as you hold your head down in shame, ādidnāt thinkāā
āyeah. you obviously didnāt think,ā his voice is deceptively calm now. the kind of calm that precedes slaughter.
he sets your wrist down and rises to his full imposing height. the black tattoos shift across his skin as his muscles flex, ātsk. yāre crawling about like some reckless servant chasing trinkets, and look where that got ya.ā
the air grows thick with that ominous cursed energy youāve grown used to. outside in the gardens, you hear a distant scream. you swallow thickly. that was an unfortunate soul who was probably been lingering too close at the wrong moment.
sukuna doesnāt even glance toward the sound. his focus remains locked on you.
he kneels again, red eyes boring into yours. one hand cups your chin to tilt your face up, ādo you have any idea what i would do to this entire fuckinā country if you lost that child?ā
your heart stutters.
you know he isnāt exaggerating. sukunaās affection is a double edged blade. itās obsessive, violent and all-consuming. you have seen villages erased for lesser offenses than inconveniencing his property.
āy-yes, but iām alright,ā you whisper, āthe baby kicked just now. itās still strong and kicking."
as if to prove it, another solid thump presses against your belly. sukunaās big hand moves immediately, his warm palm spreading over the curve.
for a long moment thereās silence. then he exhales through his nose, a sound closer to a growl.
āyou will not leave this chamber without my presence until the birth.ā it isnāt a suggestion. āservants will bring you everything. if you desire a scroll, they will fetch it. if you desire the moon itself, they will bleed trying.ā
you reach up with your good hand to brush fingers along one of his wrists. you tilt your head as you look up at him, āyouāre angry.ā
āfurious.ā
the word drips with venom. yet he lowers himself beside you on the futon, two arms pulling you carefully against his chest while the other two adjust pillows behind your back. the contrast is dizzying. his body radiates power and heat, capable of tearing mountains, but he handles you like a fragile thing.
āi should chain you to this bed,ā sukuna mutters, lips brushing your temple, āperhaps then youād stop testinā me.ā
a small smile tugs at your lips despite the dull ache in your wrist. āyouād miss my stubbornness too much,ā you chuckle softly.
the king of curses huffs. the mouth on his stomach licks its lips, tasting the airāprobably the lingering trace of your blood from a scraped elbow.
you lean into him and lett the solid bulk of his true form surround you. four arms are useful for this, at least. one idly strokes your hair, another rests over your belly, the third keeps your injured wrist elevated and the fourth simply holds you close.
minutes pass in comfortable silence. his cursed energy fluctuates wildly. you can feel the rage still simmering, but itās more contained. you can feel it coiling around the room like invisible smoke, ready to lash out at the first person who enters.
a hesitant knock sounds at the door.
āenter,ā sukuna barks.
a trembling servant girl slides the door open, carrying a tray of bandages and herbal salve. her eyes widen at the sight of sukuna holding you so intimately. she nearly drops everything.
āgive it here,ā he snaps while extending one arm without releasing you. the girl approaches on her knees, head bowed low, and places the tray within reach before scrambling back.
sukuna tends to your wrist himself.
his touch is precise, almost clinical, wrapping the linen with surprising care. every so often his gaze flicks to your face to check for discomfort. the fury hasnāt left his eyes, but it has shifted. itās now directed outward. toward the world that has dared let you fall.
when he finishes, sukuna pulls you closer again. āif this swells worse by morning, iāll flay the physician who attends you. slowly.ā
you chuckle softly as exhaustion creeps in. too much happened in a small amount of time for your heavily pregnant self, āākay, noted.ā
he stays like that long after your breathing evens out. sukuna rarely sleeps much, but tonight he remains vigilant and his hand never leaves your belly.
. . .
by the next morning, word has spread through the estate like wildfire. no one is to allow you out of the inner chambers without the king of cursesā permission.
extra guards patrol the halls. when a maid brings breakfast, she keeps her eyes on the floor and moves with exaggerated slowness, terrified of triggering his wrath.
you watch sukuna from the futon as he paces, big arms crossed in various combinations. he has already executed one overzealous attendant who suggested you might have āoverexertedā yourself earlier in the week. the body has been removed before you woke.
āryo.. come here,ā you call softly, trying carefully to calm that rage by using that nickname you made up for him. instead of the usual politeness.
sukuna pauses. then, with a reluctant grunt, he returns to your side. you take one of his large hands and place it back on your belly.
"feel it. heās fine. weāre fine.ā
sukunaās expression remains stormy, but the tension in his shoulders eases fractionally, āif anythinā changes...ā
āāyouāll destroy the worldā. . . i know.ā
a rare, sharp-toothed smirk tugs at his lips, āgood. youāre learning.ā
[šš] :: true form!sukuna dealing with your mood swings while pregnant :: tags. wife!reader. fluff, sfw. pregnancy. size diff reader gets called āwoman, bratā :: wc. 1.8k
youāre crying in your chambers, the volume of your cries overshadowing sukunaās arrival at the estate. you hiccup and sniffle as you sit in the corner of your shared chambers. there really isnāt an end to your mental breakdown.
youāre prone to mood changes because of your pregnancy, already being seven months along. your belly is as round as a globe, sticking out from under your kimono.
you hold onto your lower abdomen while mumbling to yourself. ānot fair,ā you rub your blurry eyes with your free hand.
the bedroom doors suddenly swing open.
you lift your head from your knees and make eye contact with your husband who looks rather . . . upset. somehow more upset than you are at the moment.
you whimper as his big and intimidating stature dwarfs over yours while youāre stuck in the corner. when you look up at him, you cry even louder. seeing that familiar face after two whole days of suffering in this place alone gets you even more emotional.
after sukuna entered the room, his gaze had immediately fell upon your quivering figure.
he raises an eyebrow as you cry louder once you spot him, the sound breaking his ear drums. he lets out a sharp exhale, a hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.
āenough with the tears,ā sukuna grumbles as he crosses the room in a few long strides. his presence is both imposing and protective as he looms over your small figure.
his eyes flicker over your bodyātaking in the sight of your round belly. he canāt deny that the view makes his shoulders relax, relieved to see his wife do well after two days.
sukuna kneels down before you, his eyes narrowing as he notices the tears running down your cheeks. who knows how long youāve been sobbing? the realisation that no oneās checked on you while youāve been crying like this irks him.
the king of curses will make sure that every single servantāand especially the ones assigned to youāpay for not noticing your sour mood sooner.
ādamn it, woman,ā he curses under his breath, his words laden with both irritation and a sense of concern, āwhatās gotten into you now, hmm? why the blubbering mess?"
you hiccup, gasping for air as sukuna kneels down to your level, something he rarely does. one of his hands reach out to wipe a tear from your cheek, his expression stoic and unreadable while he does so.
āwelcome home,ā you utter, remembering to greet him properly.
you wipe your own tears away and try to explain the situation without it sounding absurd. āiāi went down to the kitchen to get som-something,ā you stammer, trying to spit it out before sukunaās irritation spikes.
ābut they didnāt have the food i craved. theyāre out of mangoes,ā your wailing starts again just at the mention of the fruit. it felt like the most devastating moment in your life when the maids told you that they were out of mangoes.
sukunaās annoyance quickly dissolves upon hearing your explanation. the revelation that youāre crying over mangoes seems so unbelievable, so absurd, that he canāt help but let out a dry huff of laughter. an amused smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.
he brushes the remnants of the tears away from your face. his rough fingers pause at your chin, giving it a light tap. āmangoes, huh? yāre out here bawling yār fucking eyes out like a baby for some damn mangoes?ā
despite his tough exterior, sukuna knows that pregnancy hormones often amplify emotions, making even the smallest things a cause for crying. and right now, youāre stressing and sputtering over some mangoes.
āmangoes,ā you nod and cry softly, watching as sukuna rubs your cheeks with his manly fingers, enjoying his rough touch.
you guess by just the increased toughness of his calluses that your husband has worked hard while he was gone.
though, mangoes are your current craving and not having them meant war to you. itās all you can focus onāeven if your beloved is right in front of you.
āi need them,ā you whine and pout again. your hormones make it difficult for you to calm down.
you do, however, try your best to stop crying. you clean your face with the sleeve of your kimono and bite on your bottom lip to refrain from bawling your eyes out.
āi want my mangoes,ā your voice is hoarse as you glance up at sukuna, āplease?ā
sukuna hates to admit it, but his expression softens upon hearing the hoarse tone of your pleading voice. the view of your tear-streaked face and the knowledge that youāre experiencing pregnancy cravings makes it difficult for him to maintain his usual firm demeanor.
the king of curses sighs, his annoyance replaced by a reluctant acceptance of your plight.
ātsk, damn it,ā he mutters, lazily resting his head against the palm of one of his hands, āyāre really gonna make me fetch you some mangoes?ā
here you are, a grown woman crying and begging like a kid for a sweet, juicy mango. heās seen you in many statesāhappy, sad, tired, excitedābut never quite as emotionally overwhelmed just for a piece of fruit.
sukunaās large hand reaches out to pat your head in a surprisingly gentle manner, a rare display of his softer side.
you pout at him and lean into his touch. you come up with something witty to say, as you always do.
āwell, yes, youāre the one who got me pregnant,ā you comment in a teasing way, sticking your tongue out at your husband.
no matter what sour mood youāre in, you can still be sassy.
though it doesnāt last long before your bottom lip trembles again. āi canāt do anything about it. the baby craves mangos,ā you sniff as you rub your baby bump to emphasise your desire.
sukunaās smirk wides at your retort and the playful gesture. even in your distraught state, you had the audacity to sass him. cheeky little woman, he thinks.
your husband scoffs, his large hand roughly ruffling your hair again before pulling away.
āān i donāt regret a thing. even if i gotta put up with yār cranky ass.ā
you roll your eyes at sukunaās reply. you know youāre an emotional mess, but you canāt care less. youād dl anything for your mangoesāthose juicy ones that you can eat a dozen of in one sitting.
āthe maids said that the mangoes were out of stock in the towns ānd villages nearby,ā you continue while you carefully stand up from the corner. youāre trying your best to stay rational.
youāre extremely hungry and havenāt eaten ever since breakfast. thatās how stubborn you are being.
ābut iām hungryyyyy. want my mangoes,ā you sigh and nearly stomp your feet out of frustration.
āyeah, yeahāfuckinā hell,ā sukuna groans, watching you slowly stand up, your pregnant belly protruding like a perfect sphere. itās a constant reminder of the effect he has on you and it makes him proud.
he helps you stand up by holding onto your arm, sharp eyes focused on your body to make sure you donāt strain a single muscle.
after you manage to stand up straight, you walk with sukuna to the kitchen to find something to eatāperhaps some other fruit will satisfy your cravings for now.
sukuna follows behind you, his steps long and leisurely while your shorter strides keep the pace with him. as the two of you walk towards the kitchen, he continues to listen to your repeated mantra.
itās driving him insane.
āmangoes, mangoes, mangoes. i fuckinā get it, brat,ā the king of curses swears he can feel the vein in his forehead throb.
youāre lucky that he ātoleratesā you as his wife.
itās something more than just ātoleratingā you, of course, but openly admitting to loving you, even in the slightest, is something sukuna would never do.
if someone would ask him why he goes the extra mile for you, his answer would be that itās simply because youāre carrying his heir. however only he knows the full truth, the sappy secret heāll forever keep to himself.
before you arrive at the kitchen, you bump into uraume.
they glance from sukuna to you and bow. āgood day,ā they greet you with as much respect as they do to sukuna. theyāve been doing so ever since you gained your title as his wife.
the king of curses folds all four of his arms over his chest. his lower pair of eyes are still focused on your impatient self, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. he just knows youāre holding yourself back from asking for your craving again.
sukuna clicks his tongue and nods his head at you while he speaks to uraume.
ākeep an eye on her while ām gone. feed her what she wants,ā he says in his deep voice, his tone commanding and firm.
uraume remains quiet for a second. sukuna had recently came back from a mission and is once again heading out for some ambiguous reason, but they know better than to question their master.
āwhere are you going, hubby?ā
you of course, get a free pass.
you donāt hesitate at all before questioning your husband. sukuna scoffs when he hears your voice ask him such in an oblivious manner. you should known where he is departing to.
āwhereād you think, smartass?ā he pinches your nose, causing you to swat his fingers away out of instinct. he gives up on your nose and moves to squeeze your cheeks together in a gentle yet firm manner.
you huff at his antics. sukuna grins at your frown and pout before releasing your jawline with a faint push.
āyou better hold on ātil i come back with yār stupid mangoes,ā he scoffs while turning around to walk to the entrance, āand when i do, i donāt wanna hear ānother squeak, understood?ā
sukuna seems to have made another mission for himself; find his heavily pregnant wife mangoes before she goes absolutely insane.
your face lights up and you nod repeatedly. your heart melts when you realise that heās actually putting effort to satisfy your needs. he may be harsh and stern at times, but his actions speak louder than his words.
āokay! love you, ryo!ā you call out to your husband as he disappears behind the gates.
as expected, your words are met by silence.
thatās fine with you. not hearing an āi love youā back doesnāt hurt you as much as it did at the start of your relationship.
you know sukuna cherishes you in his own special way. if he didnāt, youād be dead long time ago. on top of that, he would not go out on a hunt for mangoes right after coming back home if he didnāt like you.
<š .į husband-to-be!sukunas first look at your wedding dress!
āĖā¹į° sfw, fem!reader, still on my #letsukunacry agenda
neither of you believe in that āitās bad luck for the groom to see the wedding dress before the ceremonyā crap. mostly because itās outdated, but also because sukuna was so eager to see you first on your big day, be the first to see you dressed so beautifully, to wed him of all people. he was such a lucky man, he reminded himself that everyday, thatās why he gave you the ring.
youāre sitting alone in the bridal suite, hairstylist and makeup artist leaving the room after dolling you all up prettily to give you and sukuna privacy. you canāt help but feel nervous. this is your big day, finally marrying the love of your life, but you feel jittery. your leg bounces up and down, your hands shake from the anticipation, and you can hear your heart pounding in your chest.
the pounding only gets louder when the sharp sound of knocks echoes through the suite, alerting you that sukuna was standing right outside. the nerves finally hit you, a drowning a feeling that suffocates you so intensely you forget to stand up and let him in, until you hear another set of louder knocks this time, disrupting you from the anxiety.
you stumble as you stand up, all clumsy and nervous. youāre trembling, a shaky hand laying unsteadily on the doorknob. this was it, you were going to see him, he was going to see you.
your unsteady hand is almost unable to twist the doorknob, but it finally does after the fourth time. behind the swinging door is your husband to be, your love, your life, your sukuna.
sukuna stands motionless, speechless, it worries you how still he stands, just staring at you. all of you. to your specially styled hair, to your professionally done makeup, to the dress. god, you are so beautiful. the dazzling dress compliments you so wonderfully, he cannot believe youāre his.
ākunaā¦?ā your soft voice comes out as barely a whisper, shaky as you try to gauge his emotions. his face is completely stoic. did he find you ugly? did he regret proposing? youāre about to cry from the nerves alone until you see him blinking away a tear.
āyouāreā¦ā
āwhatās wrong?ā you gasp, taking a step forward to thumb away the rolling down. the close proximity, your body molded against his so perfectly, your tender touch, it all reminds him why he chose you, why you are the one he wants to wed. the overwhelming emotions heās feeling has him uncontrollably crying, fat tears streaming down his sculpted face, vision blurry as he tries to hold you.
heās ashamed heās crying, bending his body down to slot his face in the crook of your neck to hide his tears. youāre confused at first, this is the first time youāve ever seen sukuna cry. you assumed he wasnāt capable of crying, that he pushed emotional acts past him, he usually got defensive if he was feeling emotional. but you were so wrong in your judgement, because here he was, sobbing into your neck as he hold you close, squeezed you against him so tightly you couldnāt breathe.
āi canāt believe,ā heās gasping out through sobs, clutching you close while being mindful to not ruin the expensive fabric of your dress, āyou chose me.ā
āiād always choose you,ā you answer without hesitance, hand sliding down to find his and intertwining your fingers to squeeze. āiāll choose you in every life. thatās why iām marrying you.ā
your heartfelt confession only has him breaking down harder, experiencing full body trembles, body wracked with such love. he loves you, and it is such an overwhelming feeling.
āi love you,ā he cries, āi love you, i love you so much, my beautiful wife, youāre so gorgeous,ā itās like heās reciting a mantra, āiāll always love you. i canāt wait to marry you.ā
you laughing through your own tears, trying your best to wipe away the stray tears without smudging your perfectly done makeup. itās okay, your makeup artist already prepared to redo it knowing youād be seeing sukuna before the ceremony.
heās pulling away from, reluctantly so, and youāre both wiping away each others tears. heās so tender, such a contrast from his rough persona.
sukuna doesn't like his pregnant wife doing anything that requires even just a tiny bit of effort.
"sukuna," you say, calling him to the delicate atmosphere of the dinner table. the table is packed with a delicacy ā a warm pot of braised chicken with a side of buttered noodles. "c'mere already!"
sukuna stood up from his chair, his footsteps following the scent of the delicious meal... which was absolutely and definetly forbodden! his wife, doing such a thing that could potentially drain her!? absolutely not.
"did you just.." he paused, taking a big and long stare at the meal you just prepared. " do that all by yourself?"
"yes, why?" you asked, tilting your head.
"dumb woman. you're pregnant." he lectured, nudging your cheek with a slight poke.
" ..did you just call me dumb for being pregnant?" you pouted, grabbing his finger as you try to fight the urges to bite it shamelessly. "hey, if you just don't wanna eat my totally delicious cooking, then tell me!"
he scoffed, his lips turning into a playful grin as he chubs your cheeks completely out off his cuteness agression. "no, no. you're the one carrying my baby. if you wanna eat something, i'll do it," he says as he cups your reddening face with his gigantic hands.
".. you suck." you sulk, eyes full of embarrasment and determination.
he laughs as he lets your head droop low onto the crook of his necm, his arms caught in your embrace. "still, the foods going to turn cold. just saying, leave it to me next time, preggie," he teases, lifting you off his shoulder to implant a short but sweet kiss on your temple.
"preggie!? what kind of nickname is that!?" your hands find way to pinch his nose, leaving the two of you to a full night of giggles and playful lectures.
!Ryomen Sukuna; who falls in love with the concubine he hated the most
Every woman brought to his estate understood the rules of survival before they even crossed the threshold.
You bowed until your forehead touched the tatami. You spoke only when spoken to. You anticipated his moods, read the terrifying language of his four eyes, and offered flattery or tears depending on what type of amusement he was seeking that day.
To center your entire existence around Ryomen Sukuna was the only way to ensure your head remained attached to your shoulders.
Except you didn't.
You hadn't knelt when he first entered your quarters three months ago. You had been lying on your side, propped up on an elbow, reading a translated scroll from the northern provinces, and you had merely shifted your gaze to look at him, entirely unimpressed by the sudden, heavy drop in atmospheric pressure that usually accompanied his presence.
"Stand when I enter," he had commanded, his upper eyes narrowing into dangerous, ruby slits.
You had turned a page. "Then leave and enter again. Perhaps I will feel like it next time."
The attendants behind him had turned white as ghosts, bracing for the inevitable spray of blood. Sukunaās jaw had set, a terrifying, low growl vibrating from his chest. But you hadn't trembled.
You hadn't scrambled to fix your posture. You had just looked at him with an expression of profound boredom.
If he wanted to kill you, he would kill you. Fawning over him wasn't going to change his nature, so you simply refused to waste the energy.
He hadn't killed you. Instead, he had left, the doors slamming shut with enough force to rattle the shoji screens.
And that was the exact moment the nightmare began. Because from that night onward, Sukuna became an insufferable, permanent fixture in your life.
"You are eating that wrong."
You stopped your chopsticks halfway to your mouth, letting out a long, slow exhale through your nose. It was midnight.
You had been looking forward to a quiet, solitary meal of cold rice and pickled plums, but Sukuna had simply materialized in the corner of your room ten minutes ago, dripping wet from a thunderstorm, and had proceeded to sit directly on the edge of your bedding.
"I am eating it the way I have eaten it for more than twenty years," you said, not looking at him. "If my technique offends you, the door is exactly where you left it."
Sukuna scoffed, leaning back on his palms. His massive, tattooed frame took up half the space in your small room, his lower arms crossed over his chest while his upper right hand casually reached over and swiped a plum straight from your bowl.
"You have a wretched attitude," he remarked, popping the fruit into his mouth and chewing lazily. "The women in the east hall weep with gratitude if I so much as glance toward their courtyard. You look at me like I am a stray dog that ruined your garden."
"Stray dogs are quieter," you muttered, finally looking up to glare at him. "And they don't steal my food."
Sukunaās lower mouth twitched into a sharp, jagged grin. He loved it. The realization turned your stomach, a strange, dizzying mixture of irritation and heat.
He didn't come to your room because he wanted a concubine; he came because he was a creature driven entirely by conflict, and you were the only person in the entire empire who refused to give him the satisfaction of a fight. You gave him nothing. You gave him a wall of pure, unbothered apathy, and it was driving him entirely insane.
He leaned forward suddenly, crowding your space. The smell of the storm, ozone and rain, rushed over you. Before you could pull back, his large, calloused hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your jaw.
It wasn't the brutal, bone-crushing grip he used on his enemies. It was controlled, a heavy, unyielding restraint that forced your face up toward his.
"You should fear me," he murmured, his upper eyes tracking the movement of your throat as you swallowed. His thumb thumbed the soft skin right beneath your lower lip, a deliberate, electric friction that made your toes curl inside your robes. "A single flick of my finger, and this pretty little throat splits wide open."
You met his gaze evenly, refusing to let the wild, frantic thudding of your heart show on your face. "Then do it. I'm tired of your bragging."
Sukuna froze. For a second, the silence in the room was deadly. Then, a loud, booming laugh tore from his throat, the sound rough and genuine as he released your jaw, shifting his weight until he was practically draped over your lap, his heavy head resting casually against your thigh.
"Insufferable," he muttered, closing all four of his eyes as if he owned the space. "Utterly insufferable."
You stared down at the King of Curses currently using your legs as a pillow, your hand hovering over his unruly pink hair, entirely tempted to shove him off. But you didn't. You just sighed, picking up your chopsticks again, ignoring the way his subconscious weight felt entirely too natural against you.
The shift happened. In Sukunaās dictionary, words like love or devotion were meaningless concepts invented by the weak to justify their dependency. He would never admit to favoring you. If anyone asked, he would simply say you were a minor amusement, a dull distraction from his boredom.
But the rest of the estate wasn't blind.
The servants noticed that the rare silks brought from the western raids, the ones Sukuna usually threw into the treasury to rotāsomehow kept finding their way into your wardrobe because he had casually grumbled that your current robes looked "like rags."
The guards noticed that if Sukuna left your courtyard irritated, he was significantly less likely to execute someone in the main hall.
And then there was the incident with the lord of the northern clans.
During a formal banquet, the lord had made a passing, disparaging remark about your status, calling you an "eccentric, useless mouth to feed" who didn't know her place.
You hadn't even heard the comment; you had been across the pavilion, systematically ignoring Sukunaās attempts to make you try a cup of sake.
But Sukuna had heard it.
He hadn't made a scene. He had simply stood up, walked over to the lordās table, and dismantled the manās entire lineage within three seconds, leaving the pavilion drenched in red before sitting back down next to you, casually picking up his chopsticks as if nothing had happened.
"You're exhausting when you're angry," you had murmured, wiping a stray drop of blood from the sleeve of your robe with a click of your tongue.
Sukuna hadn't answered. He had just grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand toward him until you were forced to use your sleeve to wipe a smudge of gore from his cheek instead. He hadn't asked. He had just assumed your hands belonged on his skin.
Late one evening, weeks later, the heat of the summer had turned the air thick and oppressive. You were lying awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling, when the shoji screen slid open without a sound.
Sukuna stepped inside. He looked exhausted, the heavy marks of a curse battle still lingering in the tension of his shoulders. He didn't speak. He just shed his heavy outer robe, letting it hit the floor, before crawling directly onto your sleeping mat.
"Go away," you groaned, trying to roll over to the far edge. "It is too hot for this."
"Silence," he grunted, a large, heavy arm snaking around your waist from behind. He hauled you back against his chest with a single, effortless tug, his massive body completely enveloping yours.
His chest was blazing hot, a furnace of pure cursed energy, and his face buried itself directly into the crook of your neck.
"You cling too much," you muttered, though you didn't actually fight the hold. It was a useless endeavor anyway.
"What nonsense," Sukuna rumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his lower arms tightening around your hips, anchoring you so securely to him that you could feel the rhythmic, heavy thud of his heart against your spine. "You are small. You fit here. Stop complaining."
You lay there in the dark, his breath warm against your skin, his long, sharp fingernails absentmindedly tracing patterns into the fabric of your garment near your ribs.
He was completely unaware of how intimate the gesture was, how entirely possessive his body became the moment he was near you. He thought he was just resting. He thought he was just taking what was his.
You turned your head slightly, looking back at him. His eyes were closed, his expression unusually peaceful in the dim moonlight.
"You're an idiot, Ryomen Sukuna," you whispered softly.
A faint, arrogant smirk touched his lips, though he didn't open his eyes. His hand moved up, his fingers lacing through yours with a casual, unthinking pressure, locking your hands together against the bedding.
"And you are still breathing," he murmured into your skin, his grip tightening just a fraction more. "Be grateful I find your stupidity so entertaining."
You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his terrifying, inescapable warmth, finally accepting that while the King of Curses would never say the words, his actions had already rewritten the entire world around you.
World: non-idol Dad!Yoongi x Reader
Words: 3256
Warnings/Tags: Some cursing, otherwise just fluff
Read more Dad!Yoongi from my masterlist
Yoongiās eyes flutter open. Cocooned in the washy-washy sound of ocean waves, in a dark room with only lit cracks around the door, a weighted blanket tucked in tight around him, Yoongi feels like a caterpillar waking after a long period of metamorphosis. His body is heavy and a bit numb in the extremities. Heād fallen asleep with his arms in a weird position but when he shifts, the weighted blanket starts toā¦ roll?
āFuck,ā he hisses as alertness shoots through him. He pops his shoulder up āthe bad one that has felt stiffer than usual latelyā to keep the little head from rolling further as his hands tighten around the tiny body curled up in a ball on his chest, arms and legs tucked in as if the baby is still nestled in your stretched belly. The baby doesnāt budge an inch though because even in sleep heās been holding that little body in place.
But shit shit dangerous. He canāt fall asleep. Heās not supposed to be asleep right now, heās supposed to.. Toā¦
Danger averted this time, Yoongi tries to remember what heās supposed to be doing. Quieting the baby, yes, ideally to sleep because youāre at your breaking point in the bedroom right now, trying to recover from giving birth while also nursing a baby round the clock. Yoongi canāt imagine. When youād finally broken down in tears, heād whisked the baby away, determined to do whatever it took to give you as long a break as possible, whether that means rocking your newborn son to sleep or just enduring his cries.
Thankfully, the baby fell asleep after only twenty minutes of crying ātwenty minutes that felt like an eternity, to be fair. Yoongi doesnāt think heās cut out to listen to a baby cry, at least not his own. Heās never been bothered by babies crying in airplanes or public spaces, toddlers grabbing onto his pants in confusion, not even when Taehyungās toddler sneezed directly into his open mouth. With spit. Twenty minutes of the baby crying doesnāt make him shake and flush and overheat the way it does for you, but he doesnāt like it. He doesnāt want the baby to be upset about something unknown, something he canāt deliver on.
But you fed the baby at least as much as the internet says is a solid meal for a two week old, Yoongi changed the poopy diaper that followed every meal due to something heād been reading about called a āgastrocolic reflexā, the temperature of the nursery is a perfect 21-degrees Celcius, there are no scratchy tags on the white sleeper, and according to his momās advice before, thatās almost the whole list of why a newborn cries. The final two are the most challenging though: because the baby is too tired and just because.Ā
That ājust becauseā reason seems like a good way to fuck over the exhausted parents but Yoongi was determined to win this battle with your newborn son for your sake. You will rest and he will make sure there is no reason behind the crying and then endure whatever remainsā¦
But the crying apparently did not last. After recreating the exact scenario Seokjin swore by for his own son, Min Kija had done the unthinkable and kindly fallen asleep. Yoongi just doesnāt remember exactly when it happened because apparently those same things work like a charm on him as well and heās not sure how long heās been asleep. Time has an ephemeral quality to it. To be honest, heās not quite sure what day it is either because heās cleared his calendar for a month to support you and the baby round the clock through samchil-il, your month recovery period. At the time heād thought that would be enough but now heās not sure because even though youāve eschewed some of the more isolating Korean traditions when a baby is born āno visitors for 100 days, no showering, always wearing socks (heād tried to keep them on you but, flushed and overheated, youād thrown them across the room and dared him to try again)-- heās not sure that your two mothers are being enough support. Honestly, he thinks you might wind up murdering one of them, most likely your own.Ā
Besides, isnāt it his job as your husband to help? He doesnāt mind following tradition when it makes sense, but the idea that caring for your wife and newborn is more womanās work feels outdated and wrong. Maybe he should clear his schedule for another month. You have the savings to make it work, no problem. Maybe he and his own dad would be closer if his dad had been more involved in those crucial early months. Yoongi doesnāt want to risk it.
He yawns and then freezes as the baby grunts and shuffles against his chest. It only takes a moment for the baby to settle back down, a little warm ball of porridge melted against him. In an effort to support you in whatever you need, heās allowed you to take most of the lead on holding the baby because you like to. He doesnāt blame you. Yours was the effort that turned his little contribution into this big healthy baby. Yours was the pain and sweat that brought him into the world. All Yoongiās been able to do is take care of you, and change diapers until heās got the hang of it actually. The last thing he wants to do is deprive you of anything you want to do.
Especially when he gets it: holding the baby is the best part. As his eyes adjust better to the low light, he makes a careful study of the little profile, the hands tucked under the babyās chin, the single foot that has somehow escaped the blanket wrapped across them both. Yoongi stole the blanket from the hospital because the baby had fussed when theyād unwrapped him from it to put him in the car seat for the journey home. It didnāt matter, the hospital had a thousand of them. Yoongi would do much more than that to keep his son comfortable.
His son. Becoming a father feels like a gradual process to him and heās not there yet. Appa doesnāt fit as a name or title, it hasnāt been earned yet. It feels as tacked on as the babyās name: Min Kija. You had selected the name near the end of the pregnancy and Yoongi was fine with it, especially once the baby was born, because it fit as well as anything āas in, nothing else would fit better. The baby is just a blank slate. He doesnāt look like anything yet, not even like a son because Yoongi isnāt a father, how did he supposedly have a son?
But apparently he is a father now and he does have a son now and Yoongi will go along with whatever comes your way in life as long as you are with him. Even a baby, which he knows nothing about, heās managed to learn nothing from his friends until now. On purpose. He didnāt think he needed to until suddenly he did.Ā
Kija is pretty fucking cute though. Itās surreal and probably fruitless trying to map the babyās features to his own or yours or anyone in your families. You say the baby has his mouth and he thinks the baby has your eyes but who can say for sure? Heās watched the way the faces of friendsā babies have changed. All he knows for sure right now is that neither of you is as good as your mothers at getting the baby to sleep, and heās got to figure it out so he can say heās pulling his own weight around here. Right now you are MVP uncontested and he wonāt be able to compete but he does think he should hit a point where heās silver, ahead of the grandmothers. He wants to be that sort of dad.Ā
He swears he hasnāt moved but the babyās arm suddenly shoots out like itās falling. He quickly presses the arm down and adjusts his hands to make sure Kija knows he is perfectly secure here. He wonāt fall asleep again, he canāt, and risk letting the baby fall off. Heās not sure how much time has passed āit feels like hours but he doubts itās been that long, even though the blackout curtains make it impossible to tell from the slant of the sunā but he needs to make this baby nap stretch as long as humanly possible because two weeks have made it clear that Kija will wake up hungry every time and Yoongi wants you to sleep as long as you possibly can.
Kija settles back down and keeps sleeping and Yoongi lets out a sigh of relief. Apparently his son feels safe enough after all. Cozy. Content. Itās his most important job in the world right now to keep him that way.
But damn heās hungry. His stomach growls so loudly heās worried it will wake the baby. His mouth is parched and an urgent need to drink something creeps up on him. When was the last time he ate or drank? Heās actually not sure because heās mostly been focused on making sure you eat and drink, even though whichever mom is spending the night tends to see to it first. Theyāve been cooking so thereās good food present in plenty, but Yoongi keeps forgetting to eat it because thereās also laundry and dishes to do and diapers to restock and Holy to feed and walkā¦
Heās so hungry, his stomach cramps. This is ridiculous, heāll just get a snack and then come right back; Kija can sleep through the whole thing.
But when he starts to stand, Kija immediately squirms and grunts. Yoongi freezes, half out of the chair, but Kija doesnāt settle back down for long enough that Yoongiās legs start to tremble and he has to sit again. He waits a few minutes, tries it again, but the same thing happens.
Damnit, he canāt risk it. What will he say if Kija wakes up and then you have to wake up to feed him: sorry, I was just really hungry?? He wonāt die from not eating but you might if you donāt get the proper rest to recover!
He settles back down, determined to wait it out.
His stomach cramps again painfully, and his mouth is so dry it itches. It makes his throat itch. Oh shit, itās making his throat dry. He tries to suppress a cough and instead swallows funny and the sharp pain as he tries to keep still and quiet through the coughing fit is excruciating.Ā
He needs a drink and he needs a snack because now itās all he can think of and itās not better if he coughs Kija awake either. In a rush, he lifts and pulls his phone from his back pocket and then goes perfectly still again, waiting as Kija yawns and stretches. Shit shit shitā¦
āShhhh,ā Yoongi whispers, trying to emulate the way the grandmas do it. Itās one area heās found himself more skilled than you; he has more breath, more stamina in it, and can make the shushing sound for far longer. Long enough youād laughed about it the first night the two of you were trying to get Kija calmed down for sleep, before your milk came in when it was impossible to get Kija settled. The two of you had wanted to try and be the kind of parents who didnāt need a grandma staying over, a grand plan that had lasted all of one night before youād tearfully called your mom the next morning and admitted you wanted the help after all. But for that brief moment of shushing, you had laughed, and Yoongi had stupidly, naively, prematurely considered himself the baby sleepmaster!
He has dignity and a title to reclaim now. He shushes and waits and watches until Kija graciously settles back down and continues to sleep. It was risky though, grabbing the phone, and Yoongi doesnāt think Kija will be so magnanimous again.
[Yoongi]: eomma are you here in the house?
[Eomma]: No. I am doing the shopping. Did you think of something you need
Yoongi bites his tongue. Heād meant to do the shopping today but his mom must have decided to do it instead when he didnāt emerge from the nurseryā¦ how long has he been in here?! The time on his phone says 3:41 PM which meansā¦
Itās only been twenty minutes!!
Yoongi huffs a laugh then quickly falls still again when it bounces Kija. The baby seems unbothered by it. But damnit! Only twenty minutes! It means he has not already been victorious in giving you a break. Itās crazy how only a twenty minute nap can feel like he just slept for two hours ānot necessarily in restfulness, but in how quickly and deeply he fell sleep.
He has nothing to suggest to his mom for the shop. Yoongi isnāt sure he can wait long enough to eat for her to get home and cook. His stomach feels like itās eating itself.Ā
He debates. He can be strong enough to endure the hunger, right?
But the tickle is coming back to his throat, taunting him.Ā
He tries one more time to rise and Kija issues the same threat, this time his little eyes even crack open to make sure Yoongi truly understands how serious this is. He will wake up and start screaming for eomma.Ā
Yoongi sits back down and freezes, waiting, waiting, praying to the newborn gods until Kija falls still again. No, thatās not good enough, so he begins to rock, and finally Kija relaxes.
[Yoongi]: hyung are you home right now
[Seokjin]: it depends why are you asking?
[Yoongi]: Iām nap trapped
[Seokjin]: I told you that would happen!
[Yoongi]: I have nothing here, no food or drink
[Seokjin]; I told you to keep snacks everywhere!
[Yoongi]: I have to be careful or Holy gets them
[Yoongi]: y/n is sleeping
[Seokjin]: Yah ok I will be right there did you change your door code?
Relief floods Yoongi. Seokjin will probably gloat about this for days but it feels like a small price to pay. He didnāt even make Yoongi beg! Yoongi knew Seokjin would understand. Also he lives the closest.
The minutes tick by and Yoongi gets more annoyed with his own body because he feels like he should be enjoying this time of just holding his tiny sleeping newborn son but all he can think about is how hungry and thirsty he is. Maybe heās being ridiculous, maybe Kija will settle back down if he just moves confidently through the apartment to get a snack and then comes back.Ā
Just as heās about to try standing again, the nursery door slowly opens. For a breath Yoongi worries itās you, that you arenāt sleeping, or that something heās done somehow sent a signal that woke you up. But then Seokjinās face peeks comically through the opening, at an angle, as if heās nothing but a head and a hand holding a bag. He pauses then tiptoes in, whole body hunched over as if that gives him the ability to move more quietly. Both men watch Kija but the baby doesnāt have any reaction. The ocean waves from the noise machine muffle the light patter of Seokjinās slippered tiptoes.
The reusable shopping bag is absolutely bulging as Seokjin hands it to Yoongi and whispers, āI brought you what I had.ā Yoongi would have guessed Seokjin went by the store, there are so many packaged treats and drinks in boxes and cans shoved into the bright floral bag. It almost brings a tear to Yoongiās sleep deprived eye ānot yet Seokjinās generosity, but the promise of quenched thirst and a full belly.
āThank you, hyung,ā he manages to get out.Ā
Seokjin pauses another moment, gazing fondly at Kija, before whispering, āI warned you about nap-traps.ā He gives Yoongi finger funs, then turns and tiptoes out as quickly and quietly as he came before Yoongi can think of a response with his newborn-addled brain.
Kija remains blissfully asleep as Yoongi rustles through the bag as quietly as he can with one hand reaching over the edge of the rocking chair. He has to just eat whatās on top, digging will make too much noise and movement. The crinkling food bags āchips and gummy candy and mango bread and red bean bunsā make Yoongi hold his breath to compensate, which makes his throat tickle again, so first he pulls out a boxed drink, thinking itāll be quieter than a can. He doesnāt even see what it is in the dark, just carefully unwraps the straw around Kijaās back and punctures it into the box on the third try. Shit, it makes more noise than he expected.Ā
But Kija slumbers on as Yoongi practically inhales the taro milk.
Throat no longer threatening a cough, Yoongi creeps his hand back into the bag of treasure and pulls up the first thing his hand closes on: a bag he thinks is turtle chips based on what he can make out of the colors. Perfect.Ā
Kija moves on his chest and Yoongi presses a hand to his back, holding him stable and steady until he settles back down, then carefully grips the bag with both hands in the air so he can carefully, gently ease the bag open.
How did it happen? Heāll never know. The bag bursts open like a bomb reaching the end of its countdown. The loud pop startles Yoongi and Kija both as turtle chips rain down on Kijaās head and back and across Yoongiās stomach. Holy is suddenly scratching at the nursery door, possibly already lured by the crinkle of the snack back and now certain there is a delicious mess inside.
Kijaās startle turns into a stretch and then a deep frown. Yoongi freezes, hopeful, waiting. He can just make out the changing expressions on Kijaās face, a roller coaster of muscle fluctuations that donāt mean much yet.Ā Ā
Sadly, Yoongiās luck has run out. Kija lets out a testing cry, then decides that yes, crying does sound like the right thing to do. He cries out in earnest, whole body arching, mouth open and bobbing around seeking a nipple on Yoongiās chest that, even should he find it, wonāt give him what heās looking for.Ā
āShh shhh shhh,ā Yoongi tries while shoveling turtle chips into his mouth. āShhhh.ā He realizes he canāt make the noise while eating, crumbs fly out at the helpless baby.Ā
Thatās how you find him when you open the door around Holy and flick the light on: stroking Kijaās soft little head, murmuring sweet nothings that are lost on the hungry crying baby, eating turtle chip crumbs out of the folds of the babyās blanket. Which explains what Holy is so eager to get to, trying to sneak around your legs.
Yoongi looks immediately apologetic and tries, āUmā¦ go back to sleep?ā
āI think heās hungry.ā
Yoongi sighs and admits defeat with a nod.
āThe babyās hungry too,ā you add, mouth twitching into a grin. Despite the briefness of your nap, you do feel a little better. You slept so soundly you woke up unsure what day it was, where you were, what your name even is.
