── .✦ 𝐶𝛰𝑁𝑇𝐸𝑁𝑇 𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑁𝐼𝑁𝐺𝑆 : explicit content (18+), minors dni, vaginal sex, rough handling, dirty talk, possessive behavior, biting/marking (claws, teeth, and blood drawn in one instance), overstimulation, praise kink, slight degradation, breeding kink (implied knotting), bondage (metal Evol and cuffs), semi-public sex (office windows + warehouse), wall sex, prone bone, mating press, reverse cowgirl, spooning, deep penetration, grinding, forced eye contact, fear play (implied), worship kink, slight choking (implied by grip), mutual masturbation, scratching (claws on brick), tail wrapping, hair grabbing (implied), submissive top dynamics, petnames used include sweetheart, pretty thing, pup, baby, my good girl, and pretty, with one instance of blood play from a bite and one instance of the reader being pinned in a vulnerable position. not proofread oopsie
𝑃𝑅𝛰𝑁𝐸 𝐵𝛰𝑁𝐸.
He's got you flattened into the mattress, all two hundred pounds of muscle and wolf draped over your spine like a second skin, cherry-colored hair sticking to his sweaty brow while his nose burrows into the curve of your neck—sniffing, because he can't help it, because you smell like rain and honey and his, and somewhere deep in his throat that feral little whine rumbles all the way down to his his chest. It's so at odds with the way his thick, drooling cock splits you open in one torturously slow, wet push. Your fingers claw at the sheets, a choked sob catching in your throat as he bottoms out, that heavy weight settling deep inside you, stretching you, your cunt squeezing and relaxing in weak little pulses to try and accomodate his size — and he laughs, a low, breathless chuckle against your ear, canines grazing the lobe just shy of drawing blood. "Aww, sweetheart, you're trembling," he coos, mock-sympathetic even as his hips snap forward with a brutal, wet smack that punches the air from your lungs, claws denting the headboard as he finds a rhythm—deep, relentless, mean—pressing your cheek into the pillow with every downward drive. But even as he fucks you into the mattress like a beast caught in a heated rut, his arms are wrapped around you, forearms bracketing your ribs, pulling you impossibly closer, his tail coiling tight around your calf like he's scared you'll slip away. "Don't run from me," he whines, breath hot and ragged against your nape, hips never stuttering, "wanna feel you choke on every inch—wanna fill you so full you'll dream about my knot," and his voice cracks on the last word, that scary, hulking predator reduced to a clinging mess who needs you to take him, to keep him, to let him ruin you softly.
𝑀𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝑃𝑅𝐸𝑆𝑆.
He's folded you in half like you're made of silk, knees shoved up to your shoulders, the backs of your thighs pressed flush against his heaving chest and he just stares for a moment, amber eyes blown wide and dark, tracing the glossy, swollen mess of your cunt wrapped around his leaking length like it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. "Look at that," he purrs, voice dripping with teasing awe, one calloused thumb reaching down to circle your puffy clit, smearing your slick across your belly just to watch you twitch, "taking all of me like a good little thing—fuck, you're so pretty when you're stuffed full," and then he rolls his hips, a deep, grinding circle that hits that spongy spot inside you and makes your vision white out, stars bursting behind your eyelids. His sharp canines graze your bottom lip, tugging at the plush flesh before he soothes it with a kittenish lick, all while his hips piston into you with deep, measured strokes that have the headboard creaking and the sheets pooling wet beneath you. "Eyes on me, pretty thing," he commands, but it comes out breathless, desperate, almost a plea, because he needs to watch you fall apart, needs to see those tears cling to your lashes. His Evol hums, cooling the silver cuffs that bind your wrists to the headboard, but his hands stay gentle, palms cradling your jaw, thumbs stroking your cheekbones like you're something sacred. "There she is—there's my girl," he coos, fucking into you deeper, slower, worshipping your gooey cunt and your kiss bitten lips, that scary wolf completely undone by the way your walls flutter around him, clinging and greedy, and he smiles, boyish and adoring, even as he wrecks you from the inside out.
𝐶𝛰𝑊𝐺𝐼𝑅𝐿 / 𝑅𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑅𝑆𝐸 𝐶𝛰𝑊𝐺𝐼𝑅𝐿.
You're bouncing reverse in his lap, back plastered to his sweat-slicked chest, the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse office reflecting the lewd, glistening sight of his thick shaft disappearing into your drenched heat over and over again—and he's watching the glass, amber eyes half-lidded and starving, one massive hand splayed across your stomach while the other sneaks up to cup your jaw, turning your face so he can press messy, open-mouthed kisses to the corner of your lips. "C'mon, baby, use me," he slurs against your cheek, hips twitching up to meet your lazy, grinding descent, but his voice is needy, wrecked, that booming baritone cracking into a whimper when you clench around him, "don't stop—please don't stop—you feel so fuckin' good wrapped around me." And when you slow down, thighs burning, he whines, a high, pathetic sound that's so utterly unlike the terrifying Chairman who makes boardrooms tremble, and he wraps both arms around your middle, hugging you tight to his chest, burying his nose in your sweat-damp hair while his hips buck up into you with frantic, shallow thrusts. "You're mean," he pouts against your scalp, claws pricking just enough to sting at your waist, but he's kissing the spot right after, tongue lapping at the tiny beads of blood like an apology, "getting me all worked up and then—nngh—trying to tap out? Nah, sweetheart, you're gonna ride me until that pretty cunt of yours is raw, then you're gonna let me fill you up. Right, little pup? " He groans when you clench around him, seemingly in agreement, the sound breathless and warm, that feral, untamed beast completely surrendered to you, his throne, his home, his everything.
𝐴𝐺𝐴𝐼𝑁𝑆𝑇 𝐴 𝑊𝐴𝐿𝐿.
He's got you slammed against the cold, damp concrete of the abandoned warehouse, your legs locked high around his hips and his massive palms gripping the swell of your ass, fingers dimpling the soft flesh as he lifts you with complete ease, impales you on one brutal, all-consuming shove that has your head knocking back against the brick with a dull thud—but he's there in an instant, one hand cupping the back of your skull, cushioning the impact while his hips roll forward in a punishing, deep grind that punches a broken moan from your chest. "Couldn't even make it to the bed," he teases, sharp canines grazing the column of your throat, tongue lapping at your frantic pulse point while his tail wraps possessively around your thigh, keeping you spread wide and helpless against him, "got so worked up just lookin' at you in that skirt—gonna fuck you stupid right here, where anyone could walk in and see who you belong to." But yet, his voice wavers, cracks with affection, because he's grinning against your skin, that boyish, mischievous smile that makes him look nothing like the scary wolf who just tore through a dozen enemies. His hips piston into you with frantic, sloppy thrusts, the wet schlik schlik echoing off the walls, rain dripping through a broken skylight and mingling with the sweat trailing down his chest—and even as he fucks you ruthlessly, brutally, one arm stays locked around your waist, holding you flush to his body like you're the only anchor in a storm, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck, breathing you in with desperate little huffs. "Smell so scared and soaked," he murmurs, lips brushing your pulse and you whimper, "but you're safe, you're always safe with me, even when I'm bein' a monster—fuck, I love the way you squeeze me when I talk dirty," and he laughs, despite a whine curling around the sound, driving into you deeper, slower, meaner, kissing your tears away even as he paints your walls with his release.
𝑆𝑃𝛰𝛰𝑁𝐼𝑁𝐺.
Moonlight spills through the blinds like liquid silver, painting his cherry hair in pale, ethereal streaks as he pulls you flush against his chest, your back curving into his broad, scarred torso like two puzzle pieces snapping together—and he sighs, a deep, throaty sound that's all warmth and no bite, his half-hard cock sliding through your slick, puffy folds from behind, nudging past your entrance with a slow, lazy push that has him whimpering against your nape. "Been thinkin' about this all day," he confesses, voice thick with sleep and adoration, one arm banded tight across your ribs while his other hand trails down your belly, fingers dipping to circle your swollen clit in languid, hypnotic patterns. Your back arches on instinct, curving to fit the shape of his shadow. He continues in a low rumble against your skin, murmuring between kisses, "Sitting in that boardroom, tryin' to sound smart, but all I could think about was coming home to this—to you—feeling you warm and wet and mine." His hips rock into you with slow, deep, worshipful thrusts, each one a gentle nudge that has you melting into the mattress, his tail curling possessively around your thigh, keeping you anchored to his every lazy roll, and he kisses your shoulder, your neck, the shell of your ear, a trail of soft, open-mouthed affection that makes your heart ache. "My good girl," he murmurs, canines grazing just soft enough to make you shiver, "my pretty, perfect, clingy little thing—can't even fuck you slow without wanna whine about how much I love you," He groans wetly against your skin, his hips stuttering into a deeper, needier rhythm, that big, scary wolf completely tamed, reduced to a sobbing, adoring mess who fucks you with all the tenderness in the world, whispering promises into your hair until the sun comes up.
virgin!valko finds a new scent! ...right between your legs?!
wc: 1475
content: smut, pussy eating, pussy sniffing, sniffing everywhere, biting, valko dry humps the bed n cums all over himself, mentions predator/prey dynamic, mentions marking and abo, not proofread
“mmh. did you go somewhere new today?” valko mumbles against the skin of your shoulder, rubbing his cheek against the scar of his mark there, scenting you.
you lazily flip the page of the book you’re reading, not paying him much attention. “nope. just to the post office, why?”
valko presses his nose to your neck and sniffs the area heavily, lifting your arm and smelling down it as well. “you have a new smell.”
“hmm. well, let me know what it is when you find it.” you say, brushing it off.
valko was always saying you smelled different, thanks to his hypersensitive sense of smell. normally it was just a spice you’d used to cook, or a new skin product. he’d sniff you all over for half an hour, maybe longer, until he found it, then he’d be satisfied.
over the next fifteen minutes, valko sniffed your entire upper body over heavily, occasionally stopping to lap at your skin affectionately.
it wasn’t until he had his nose pressed against your crotch that his tail finally gave a wag. he popped his head up and tapped your inner thigh.
“i found the new smell.” he announces, proud of himself.
you glanced down at him and stifled a laugh. “what, my pussy? have you never smelled it before?”
as if realizing what he’d been doing for the first time, valko sat up, his cheeks flushed. “uh- sorry, i didn’t mean to invade your privacy like that.”
“it’s fine, valko, really. we’re dating, anyway. i’ve honestly been waiting for you to work up the courage to get down there.”
you bookmark your page and set the book down, wiggling down to get comfy against your mattress and spread your legs just slightly.
valko’s expression softens slightly, his eyes still full of curiosity. “really?”
“mhmm.” you nod and stretch your arms out, bored. “i can tell you wanna investigate..” you reach down and pull the crotch part of your loose shorts to the side, exposing the dampened fabric of your panties.
the scent hits valko stronger than before and his previous hesitation vanishes. his pupils dilate and drool pools im his mouth, threatening to spill out the corners.
he plops himself back between your thighs and noses your shorts to the side. his nose presses directly against your clit, inhaling deeply and exhaling with loud whines.
you expect him to move your panties to the side and start licking or sucking or something, but he just keeps sniffing you through them like the scent was giving him a high. you let him be for another minute before clearing your throat.
“ko, my love, do you not know how to eat someone out?” you try to ask as nicely as possible, but your voice has a hint of teasing.
he peeks up at you, yellow eyes wide with embarrassment. “no, of course i do, i’m just trying to figure out what the smell is.”
you sigh and press against his forehead, pushing his head out from between your legs. he pouts and is about to start whining again until you peel your shorts and panties off, tossing them somewhere to the side.
you take his hand and run his pointer and middle fingers through your slit, shivering at the stimulation. you guide his fingers to his nose for him to sniff, which he obviously does with vigor.
“it’s arousal. i’m aroused, valko.”
valko sniffs his own fingers heavily, giving you a distracted little. “hmm?”
you groan and grab his jaw, pull it open, and shove his wet fingers into his mouth. “do i need to hols your hand for every little thing? im horny eat me out, finger me, fuck me- do literally anything or i’m using my toys while you watch.”
“you’re horny? like, you want to reproduce?” valko asks, pieces coming together in his head. unfortunately for you, the taste and smell of you has valko’s brain thinking more werewolf than human.
you nod and lay back down, relieved that he seems to suddenly understand. “exactly- well, not quite the reproduction part, but yes to the horny part.”
his tongue was lapping at the liquid drooling from your pussy in an instant, the rough texture a new feeling for you.
it only took a minute or so for you to realize that valko… wasn’t good at this. his tongue was clunky and he was avoiding all the spots he shouldn't avoid.
you cleared your throat and scratched at his fluffy ear. “are you a virgin?”
valko continued delivering slobbery kisses to your hole. “mmhmmmm.” he answered happily, droopy eyes opening up to meet yours. “my mate..”
you raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “you’re telling me you have never slept with anyone else? you??”
he pulled back slightly, biting on your inner thigh. “never. we mate for life, and you’re my mate, aren’t you?”
“well not technically-” you counter, only for him to interrupt you with a growl.
“not yet. this counts as mating. you’re..” he goes right back to sniffing you, whining at the heady scent. his hips roll against the mattress, desperate for stimulation. “you’re in heat, i’ll fix it.”
valko slurped and prodded at your entrance, his tongue sinking in and out experimentally. slowly hur surely, he found a rhythm that made moans bubble out of you and your back arch.
you gripped his plum colored hair and pulled. a tail with the matching plum color popped up behind him and swished back and forth agressively.
your whines and pleas encouraged valko, spurring him on as he doubled his efforts. the more he went, the more wet you got, which increased the scent just millimeters from his nose. he took in big gulps of air through his nose, sniffing you while his mouth was preoccupied.
“valk- mmhhhh, fuck!” your fingers twisted in his hair, holding him still as you ground against his face.
he pushed another finger in beside the first and curled it upwards, tongue swirling around your puffy clit at the same time.
valko humped the bed, his clothed dick hard and leaky as he savored your taste.
you whined his name again and he looked up at you, his yellow eyes glowing and piercing yours in the dark room.
you knew valko was sweet and you knew he would never in a million years hurt you, but when he looked at you like that with his eyes dilated… it felt like he was hunting you.
you didn’t have time to process how helpless that made you feel and how much you liked it before you came. you think you screamed, but you’re not entirely sure. the only thing you know is that when you sat up, your body felt like lead, your head was fuzzy, and valko’s face, hair, and fluffy ears were coated in your cum.
you’d squirted on him- the poor guy had never eaten someone out before, and you’d soaked him.
“shit, i’m so sorry, i didn’t know that would-” you try to apologize, but are cut off by valko continuing yo eat you out, far more ravenous this time.
you squeak and dig your nails into the thick muscle of his shoulder. “what are you doing?! i already came- mmh!”
he hums against you, talking with his mouth full. “i know, it’s all over me- fuck, more, i need more. give me more.” he growled, feral.
your scent was too much for him to handle when it was contained in your pants, but now that it was physically on his skin and seeping into his hair and fur? it was impossible to act with decorum.
valko didn’t relent until you’d came five more times, only stopping once he realized you were crying from overstimulation.
he’d also cum numerous times in his pants, whimpering and whining in both pain and pleasure at how his knot swelled against nothing, throbbing uselessly as he wasted his cum.
valko cuddled you after, laying you on top of him and nuzzling his face (still coated in your cum) against yours. you’d chastized him for that, trying to convince him to wash it off, but he looked at you like you’d asked him to shave his tail. “you marked me, don’t you realize? i’m never cleaning my face.”
you scoff and gnaw at the spot between his shoukder and neck. “i could actually mark you if you want.”
valko’s tail thumped against the bed beside you, wagging happily. “please? please, pleaseee mark me, i’m ready.”
“mmmh. fine. but that makes me the alpha, doesn’t it?” you tease him with a smirk.
valko huffed and raised his lip, showing his fangs. “you don’t have these, do you?”
you laugh and shush him. “quiet down and let me mark you, like a good omega.”
valko growled, but whined happily when you bit at his skin.
a/n: they were supposed to fuck but i got lost im the sauce like valko
Valko likes to act like he’s got his shit together.
He’ll flash you a charming, confident grin as he slides down your body, kissing along your stomach like he’s in total control. “Missed you, sweetheart,” he murmurs all smooth, like he’s doing you a casual favor. He’s getting pretty good at this boyfriend thing. He’s cool, collected even
But his tail is a fucking snitch.
The second he starts kissing down your thighs, that fluffy tail starts swishing behind him, slow at first, then faster, betraying just how excited he actually is. The closer his mouth gets to your pussy, the twitchier his ears become, flicking and turning toward every little sound you make. By the time he’s eyelevel with your core, breathing hot against your slick folds, his tail is going absolutely crazy.
He buries his face between your thighs with a deep, satisfied groan, tongue dragging up through your wetness like he’s starving. And that’s when his tail really loses it.
Thump. Thump. Thump-thump-thump.
It’s smacking loudly against the floor, then slapping the back of your calves where your legs are draped over his broad shoulders. The more he eats you out, licking, sucking, moaning into your pussy like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, the wilder it gets. His tail is just going for it, thwacking against your legs, the bed, whatever it can reach, completely out of rhythm with how hard he’s trying to look composed.
You can’t help but giggle breathlessly, threading your fingers through his hair (right at that stupidly hot undercut).
“Val… your tail is going crazy back there.”
He only growls against your clit, refusing to pull back even an inch. His ears are pinned flat with embarrassment but his tongue never stops, licking deeper, messier, more desperate. The tail just wags even harder, like it’s got a mind of its own and it’s thrilled to expose Valko for how he’s exactly where he wants to be, face buried in your sweet pussy, arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you down while he devours you.
He might not admit with words how fucking desperate he is to taste you…
He’s “just stretching” when he reaches over and pulls you into his lap while you’re trying to fold laundry. He’s “just making sure you’re warm” when he wraps his big arms around you and tucks you against his chest. He’s “just checking” when he leans down to nuzzle the top of your head for the fifth time in ten minutes.
You’re not even mad. How could you be?
Especially when his tail is wagging so hard behind him it’s practically creating a breeze, and his ears keep twitching happily every time you relax into him.
“You’re clingy today,” you tease, tilting your head back to look up at him.
“Am not,” he mumbles, but the way he immediately tightens his hold around your waist says otherwise. He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in like he needs it to survive. “Just like having you close. That’s all.”
You giggle and reach up to scratch behind one of his ears. The second you do, a low, happy rumble vibrates in his chest and his tail starts thumping even faster against the couch.
“Uh huh. Sure, big guy.”
He pretends to huff but ends up pressing a bunch of soft kisses along your shoulder instead, tail still going crazy. You’re both smiling like idiots.
Eventually he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes soft and warm.
“…Can we stay like this a little longer?” he asks, suddenly shy.
You melt instantly, cupping his face and pulling him down for a proper kiss.
“Of course, baby. As long as you want.”
Valko’s tail does a full happy spin behind him as he tucks you closer again, perfectly content being your personal radiator.
Sometimes you just have no idea what Zayne is thinking.
“You’re wearing my shirt.”
His tone gives nothing away. It’s merely a statement of a fact, one that makes you blink in surprise.
“I…yeah. It’s comfier than all my clothes.” It’s not the only reason, and you’re sure Zayne knows that.
You slip into bed, but when you turn to look over at him he’s no longer reading him book. Instead, he’s staring at you.
In a way that you definitely know what he’s thinking.
“Are you tired?” He murmurs as he leans down to kiss you, softly at first, but then grows a little needy.
“Nope. But I have to ask…is it the shirt?” You smile a little into the kiss, the expression only growing when the curve of his ears begins to grow red.
“It looks good on you.” He admits, shifting so he can settle between your legs. His hands run over your body, slowly inching the shirt up.
“I wear it when I miss you. Your trip was so long this time.” You can’t stop the longing in your voice, and it makes Zayne pause his actions.
“I know. I’m sorry I was away. Perhaps I should take one of your shirts with me the next time I go.” His thumb rubs the skin of your thigh, leaving his true meaning unspoken.
“I can spray one of my plushies with my perfume? Then you can cuddle it and pretend it’s me.” You smile to lighten the mood, and it clearly works given the quiet huff of laughter. Zayne leans closer, suddenly squeezing you in a hug.
Sukuna is the type of boyfriend who tells you to shut up when you’re talking—and to talk when you’re silent.
He “hates” it when you cuddle him. He “hates” when you kiss him or show any kind of affection in public.
He “hates” saying “I love you,” and even mocks you for saying it. He says he hates it when you try to hold his hand. He just hates everything.
He says he hates it, hates you, and hates this relationship. That’s what he tells you—every single day.
At first, you thought maybe being mean was just his twisted way of showing he cared. It was weird, but you tried to be okay with it. But slowly, it started getting to you. When you reached for his hand, he would swat yours away. When you leaned in to kiss his cheek, he would push you back.
You weren’t a talkative person by nature—you only spoke when he asked you something. But even then, when you answered, he’d tell you to shut up or say, “Why are you talking so much?”
By the sixth month of your relationship, you had grown painfully quiet inside. You barely said anything, barely did anything. It felt like he had sucked the spark and life right out of you. You were constantly second-guessing yourself.
Every time you had a date with him, it felt like a chore—a heavy, anxiety-inducing task you had to get through. It wasn’t fun anymore. It made you lose sleep.
You started to doubt whether he even liked you as a person, let alone as a girlfriend.
Today was the fourth time you canceled a date on him.
—The first time was because you were on your period and didn’t feel up to going out. He had grumbled, gone out to get takeout, then shoved the bag onto your chest and left without a word.
—The second time, you had to babysit your cousins.
—The third, you had to pick up your baby brother from a different state.
—And now today, the fourth, you had a migraine.
For the past three weeks, you’d barely seen or spoken to each other. It seemed like life kept pulling you away—and honestly, you didn’t mind.
But he did.
He was already outside your house, waiting in his car when you texted him that you couldn’t come. He didn’t take it well.
Sukuna slammed his phone onto the passenger seat, got out, and slammed the car door behind him. Then he stormed up to your front door and started banging on it, hard.
You were lucky your parents weren’t home.
You flinched at the sound of his fists slamming against the wood. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten angry, but something about tonight felt worse. Maybe it was the pounding in your head, or maybe it was just the way your stomach dropped when you heard him yell your name through the door.
“Open the damn door, Y/N!” he barked.
You rushed to open it, heart racing—not because you wanted to see him, but because you didn’t want the neighbors hearing and calling your parents… or worse, the police.
His fist was mid-air when the door swung open.
He froze, standing in your doorway, chest heaving with fury. His eyes burned as they locked onto yours, and for a moment, you genuinely weren’t sure what he was going to do.
You looked away, unable to hold his gaze.
“I don’t feel well,” you said quietly. “You should go.”
He scoffed, stepping forward. Sometimes you wondered just how big he really was—how he seemed to fill the doorway with his presence alone. Broad shoulders brushing both sides, head nearly grazing the top. It was like he was built to block the exit, to make everything feel smaller when he entered.
He walked you backward into the house and slammed the door shut behind him.
“Are you serious right now? I’ve been waiting out there for an hour—again—and you’re gonna pull this shit?”
“I said I don’t feel well,” you repeated, your voice a little steadier this time.
He laughed, that same bitter, cutting sound that made your stomach turn. “Yeah, right. Another excuse.”
You went quiet, eyes dropping to your socks. You didn’t want to look at him. You couldn’t.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he snapped. “We haven’t gone on a date in weeks. You barely text or call. Spit it out—what the fuck is your issue?”
Your fingers nervously played with the hem of your t-shirt, tugging it slightly as if that could anchor you.
Then, softly—firmly—you said it:
“Let’s break up.”
Silence.
It was immediate and deafening. He went completely still. You could feel the shift in the air, like all the heat had been sucked from the room. You swore you couldn’t even hear him breathing.
But you still didn’t look up.
You stood there, staring at the floor, heart pounding in your chest like a warning drum.
You didn't want to see the look on his face. You didn’t want to see the moment he realized you meant it.
And you did.
You really meant it.
The silence didn’t last.
It cracked.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?”
His voice was low. Dangerous. Like the calm before a storm that you’d been caught in too many times before.
You still didn’t move. Didn’t respond.
“I said,” he growled, stepping closer, “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
You finally looked up. Just once. And what you saw made your chest tighten.
His eyes were wild—red with fury, disbelief twisting his face into something almost unrecognizable. His jaw clenched, vein ticking in his temple.
“Oh, I get it now,” he sneered, voice dripping venom. “There’s another guy, right? That’s why you’ve been so distant, so fucking weird lately.”
He stepped forward again, and you instinctively took a step back—until your back hit the wall.
He bent down slightly, crouching just enough to be level with your eyes. His face was so close, you could feel the heat of his breath, the way it shook with restrained anger.
“So tell me,” he whispered, voice low and mocking, “is that it? Is it because of some guy?”
You blinked rapidly, trying to fight off the tears burning your eyes. Your breath hitched, chest rising and falling with the effort to stay calm.
His red eyes searched yours. But this time, it wasn’t just rage in them—it was something else. He was looking at you like he was trying to memorize you. Like deep down, some part of him knew he was about to lose you for good.
“There’s no one else,” you said. “It’s just you. It’s only ever been you.”
He shook his head, his frustration growing by the second. His hands balled into fists at his sides, like he didn’t know where to put them, didn’t know what to do with the energy coiling in his chest.
“Then why?” he demanded, his voice cracking with desperation. “Why? You need to tell me. I need to know. Why?”
His breath came quicker now, but his eyes—they were wild, searching. As if you held the answers to a riddle he couldn’t solve, no matter how many times he asked.
And then, the question slipped out. The one you’d been too afraid to ask, too afraid to even let yourself think about.
“Sukuna,” you whispered, barely above a breath, “do you even like me?”
You didn’t want to ask it, but something in you had to know. Something inside you had to hear him admit it—whether he cared, whether this had ever been real, or whether it was all just a game to him.
You didn’t dare look at him directly, too scared to see the answer, whatever it was. You focused on the floor, trying to steady your breath, trying to hold yourself together.
There was a long pause.
And then, when he spoke again, it wasn’t with the anger or spite you’d grown accustomed to.
It was softer. Almost too soft.
“Of course, I fucking like you,” he muttered, though there was no confidence in it.
You shook your head, unable to believe a single word he said. “No, you don’t, Sukuna. No, you don’t. You hate me. You always say you find me annoying, and you hate this relationship. You don’t like me, let alone love me.”
The words tumbled out faster than you could stop them, like once you started, you couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Sukuna...” You took a shaky breath, voice breaking despite your best efforts. “I... I can’t even sleep. I don’t know how you feel about me or what we have. You’re so angry all the time. I get scared to talk to you or ask you anything...”
You almost felt like you were rambling, but the words were all that needed to be said, finally out in the open.
The truth, ugly and raw, spilled out of you like a dam breaking, everything you’d been bottling up for so long.
Sukuna stood there, staring at you with wide eyes, as if he couldn’t comprehend what you’d just said. For a moment, you could almost see the walls crashing down around him.
He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came. He was still processing, still trying to piece together the pieces of what you’d just revealed.
And then, his eyes softened—not in the way they usually did, filled with mockery or disdain—but with something far more terrifying: regret.
“I... didn’t mean for any of that to happen.” His voice was rough, hoarse, as if the words scraped against him.
“I didn’t know... I didn’t realize that it was like this for you.”
You looked up at him, your chest tight with emotion, heart pounding in your ears.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost defeated. “I was just—damn it, I…I do love you, Y/N. I love you so much I don't know what to do with it.”
You blinked, stunned, It felt surreal, like a dream or some twisted joke, but the look in his eyes—was undeniable.
For a second, you just stared at him, trying to piece it together. He loved you? After everything? After all the anger, the cruelty, the distance?
His eyes were searching yours desperately, as if he was afraid you wouldn’t believe him, afraid that you would push him away before he could prove it to you.
“I don’t know how to show it, okay?” he said, his voice cracking, frustration and fear bleeding through.
“I don’t want to be like this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible now. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to make you feel scared or… or small.”
You swallowed hard, your heart a tangled mess of conflicting emotions. Was this just another lie? Another empty confession meant to keep you close, or was this the real thing?
Sukuna’s eyes bore into you, pleading, desperate for you to see past the anger, past the walls he’d built up over the years.
“Please,” he breathed, his voice rough. “Please don’t leave me like this. I can’t lose you. I know I fucked up, but I swear I’ll do anything to fix this”
You wanted to believe him. God, you did. But the fear still lingered. The fear that his words would fade, that the old habits would return, that the anger would drown out whatever this feeling was between you.
But... the way he was looking at you, the way he was fighting to keep you—maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something different.
Your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly took his hand in yours. His fingers tightened around yours almost immediately, as if he were afraid you’d pull away again.
“We... we don’t need to break up, Sukuna,” you said softly, eyes still fixed on the floor. “But I need time. A break.”
You felt his body tense, his hand trembling in yours.
“A break?” he echoed, the word landing heavy between you both like a thunderclap. “What does that even mean?”
“It means I need space,” you said, more firmly now. “I need time to think. To breathe. I need to figure out if I can still be in this... if you really mean what you say.”
His jaw clenched again, but he didn’t pull away this time. His other hand ran through his hair, dragging it back with a frustrated sigh as he looked away from you.
“I don’t want space,” he muttered. “I want to fix this now.”
“But we can’t,” you said, stepping back a little, your fingers slipping from his hand. “Not all at once. You can’t just say the right words and expect it all to go back to normal. I’ve been walking on eggshells for months, Sukuna. I’m tired. I need to feel like I matter to you—not just when you’re scared I’ll leave.”
Silence settled like fog between you. He didn’t argue. He didn’t yell. He just stood there, staring at you with an expression you’d rarely seen on him—something close to remorse. Maybe even understanding.
“I’ll wait,” he said finally, his voice low and rough. “I don’t know how, and I’ll probably mess it up, but... I’ll wait. Just don’t disappear on me.”
You nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “I won’t.”
---//-----//-----//
i opened the doc thinking I was about to emotionally cripple and obliterate myself with some god-tier angst but no for some reason my brain and hand said....what if… love???
Part 2 ( Part 1 )
Summary: you and sukuna are mafie couple
Warnings: sukuna is asshole, toxic relationship, humiliation , cannibalism, bit darks so yeah. a lot of mistakes too.
A/T: Hope you like it <3
Uraume had been stressed out of his mind with everything that had been going on. Sukuna had been arrested, many of the secret warehouses had been raided and seized by the FBI, and to top everything off, Sukuna was in his ear screaming at him to get him to speak to his wife—you.
He had known Sukuna his whole life and had been serving him for as long as he could remember. He was his representative and lawyer when it came to legal and financial matters. But he had never seen Sukuna this possessed. Sukuna wasn't worried about going to jail or even getting a death sentence; he was more worried about not seeing you or how you were. He had been in custody for four days now and hadn't seen you for that long.
The officers and everyone could see that Sukuna was getting more and more aggressive. He had already bitten someone's ear, stabbed, and put two officers in a coma.
Uraume sat in his office, his head in his hands, feeling the weight of the world crushing down on him. The phone on his desk buzzed, and he reluctantly answered it, knowing who it would be.
"Uraume, get me to speak to her. Now," Sukuna's voice boomed through the receiver, filled with a barely contained rage.
"I'm trying, Sukuna. They're not making it easy," Uraume replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "They know what you want, and they're using it against you."
"I don't care! Make it happen, or I'll tear this place apart," Sukuna growled, and Uraume could hear the sound of something crashing in the background.
"I'll do my best," Uraume said, knowing it wasn't enough but hoping it would buy him some time. He hung up the phone and took a deep breath, trying to think of a solution.
He knew he had to get you to Sukuna, or at least get a message to you. Sukuna's aggression was escalating, and it was only a matter of time before things got even more out of hand. Uraume had always been loyal to Sukuna, but this situation was testing his limits.
He picked up the phone again and dialed a number, hoping the person on the other end would be able to help. "It's Uraume. I need a favor," he said when the line connected. "I need to get a message to Sukuna's wife."
Meanwhile, in the holding cell, Sukuna paced like a caged beast. The officers watched him warily, knowing how dangerous he was. He had already caused enough havoc to make them all nervous, and his anger was only growing.
"Hey, Ryomen, calm down," one of the officers called out, trying to keep the situation under control.
"Calm down? You have no idea what you're dealing with," Sukuna snarled, his eyes flashing with fury. "I want to see my wife. Now."
The officer backed off, not wanting to provoke him further. They had been trying to use his desire to see you as leverage, but it was becoming clear that it was a dangerous game.
Uraume's contact finally came through, and he received a message confirming that a face-to-face meeting had been arranged. He rushed to the detention center, hoping it wasn't too late.
When he arrived, he was met with suspicious looks from the officers. "I have a meeting arranged for Sukuna," he said, trying to keep his voice calm and professional.
After some deliberation, they led him to a room where Sukuna was waiting. As soon as he saw Uraume, Sukuna's eyes lit up with a dangerous intensity.
"Where is she?" he demanded.
"She's on her way," Uraume replied, trying to calm him down. "Just hold on a moment."
Minutes felt like hours as they waited. The tension in the room was palpable, with officers standing by, ready for anything. Sukuna's fists were clenched, his eyes never leaving the door.
Finally, the door opened, and you were escorted in. As soon as Sukuna saw you, his expression softened, and he took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. The officers kept a close watch, but gave you some space.
You moved towards Sukuna, and he reached out, pulling you into a tight embrace. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice a mixture of concern and relief.
"I'm fine, Sukuna," you replied, holding him tightly.
"Can I not talk to her in private?" Sukuna asked, his voice carrying a dangerous edge as he looked at the officers.
The officers exchanged wary glances. One of them stepped forward. "You know we can't do that, Sukuna. We have protocols to follow."
Sukuna's grip on you tightened, his frustration evident. "Just a few minutes. That's all I'm asking," he said, his voice growing colder. "Do you really want to see what happens if I don't get that?"
The officer hesitated, clearly weighing the risks. After a moment, he nodded. "Alright, five minutes. But we'll be right outside. Any funny business, and this meeting is over."
Sukuna nodded curtly, and the officers stepped out, closing the door behind them. As soon as they were gone, Sukuna turned to you, his expression serious.
"Uraume thinks they have too much evidence. The sentencing will be too long," he said, his voice low and controlled.
"What are your plans then, Sukuna?" you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.
"When the trial is over, I will break out. I have people who can take the fall, but we will have to go underground," he explained, his eyes never leaving yours.
"Is that going to work?" you questioned, a mixture of hope and fear in your voice.
"It will work," Sukuna replied with a steely determination. "I've planned for every contingency. We just need to be ready to move quickly. Once we're out, we'll disappear. New identities, new lives."
You nodded, trying to steady your nerves. "What do I need to do?"
"Stay low, stay out of trouble. Trust Uraume and follow his instructions to the letter. When the time comes, he'll get you to me," Sukuna said, his hand squeezing yours reassuringly. "We've been through worse. We'll get through this too."
You took a deep breath, drawing strength from his confidence. "I trust you, Sukuna. I'll be ready."
He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "We will survive this. I promise."
The door opened, and the officers stepped back in. Sukuna gave you one last intense look, a silent promise in his eyes.
As you were escorted out, you held onto that promise.
<^>
One week later
As instructed, you kept a low profile, even though reporters and YouTubers swarmed outside your big mansion. You could see them trying to get any photos of you or anyone associated with you.
Somehow, you had become an aesthetic and fashionista icon simply by being the wife of a mafia boss. Your dark and mysterious identity only fueled people's curiosity. They wanted to know more, but they couldn't find anything. They were a bunch of editors and wannabes, desperate for any scrap of information.
While you stayed inside your big house, you had been feeling sick beyond belief. You were constantly throwing up, feeling tired, and just overall down. At first, you thought it was your untreated depression finally catching up to you. With Sukuna gone, the only thing holding it at bay had vanished, and now it had come to finish its job.
But no. There was something else.
After another bout of nausea, you decided to reach out to a trusted family doctor, Geto Suguru. The symptoms were too intense and persistent to ignore. Suguru arrived quickly and conducted a series of tests. When the results came back, you were in for a shock.
You were pregnant.
The realization did not hit you until everyone had left and you were alone in the dark room outside the balcony. You touched your stomach, feeling the undeniable truth—there was a baby growing inside you.
You didn’t know if Sukuna would be happy or if he would even feel anything. Some people might not feel safe having Sukuna’s child, but then again, you were just as insane and unpredictable as he was. Despite everything, you were determined to keep this baby.
The thought of telling him while he was imprisoned seemed too cruel, and you knew that sharing the news now might only add to his distress.
Your decision was made. You would keep the baby and wait to tell him. The news, though profoundly significant, would have to be kept from him for now. It was a difficult choice, but you believed it was the best way to protect both him and the child.
<^>
2:46 AM
"OPEN THE DOOR NOW! OPEN THE DOOR NOW!"
The deafening shouts jolted you awake, your heart hammering against your ribcage. The room was cloaked in darkness, the silence of the night shattered by the intrusive commands. Disoriented and confused, you fumbled to sit up in bed, your mind racing to understand what was happening.
Before you could react, the door to your bedroom was forcibly thrown open, and a squad of men in military uniforms stormed in. Their boots pounded against the floor, the harsh lights from their flashlights cutting through the gloom. The sudden intrusion left you paralyzed with fear, your nightgown doing little to shield you from the cold reality of the situation.
In your efforts to avoid drawing too much attention, you had scaled back on many of your bodyguards, and now you deeply regretted that decision with every fiber of your being. The once-secure walls of your home felt like they were closing in on you, turning your sanctuary into a prison.
"PUT YOUR HANDS UP NOW! PUT YOUR HANDS UP!"
The command was harsh and urgent, piercing through the haze of confusion and fear that had enveloped you. You raised your hands in compliance, your movements trembling with a mix of terror and disbelief. Before you could fully process what was happening, one of the men roughly grabbed your leg, yanking you out of bed with a force that made your heart race.
There were at least eight of them, each clad in military uniforms and exuding an intimidating presence. And there was only one of you. The disparity felt suffocating, amplifying the fear and helplessness you were experiencing.
"You are under arrest, ma'am. Anything you say can and will be used against you," one officer stated firmly as they turned you over onto your stomach. You could barely manage to stifle a sob as they secured your wrists behind your back with handcuffs. The roughness of their movements contrasted sharply with your own vulnerability; your body shook uncontrollably.
Your nightgown, a flimsy garment barely suited for the heat of the night, clung to you ineffectively. The lack of adequate clothing left you feeling exposed and painfully aware of every gaze upon you. Barefoot and disheveled, with your hair a wild tangle from the night, you felt utterly diminished.
They escorted you out of the house, your feet hitting the cold, hard concrete with every step. The cacophony of news reporters outside was deafening, their cameras flashing and their voices calling out questions you couldn’t answer. Each flash of light felt like a spotlight on your humiliation, and the barrage of questions only added to your mounting anxiety.
You tried to shield your face with your hands, but it was futile. The swarm of reporters seemed to close in, capturing every moment of your distress. The glare of the cameras and the relentless clicking of shutters seemed to blur together, intensifying your sense of invasion and vulnerability.
As you were led away, the weight of the handcuffs, the cold concrete beneath your feet, and the stares of countless onlookers felt almost unbearable. The entire world seemed to close in around you, and all you could do was focus on putting one foot in front of the other, despite the overwhelming dread and shame that clung to you like a second skin.
<^>
On the other side of the city, Sukuna was meticulously orchestrating his escape. The gravity of the situation had reached a boiling point. Every detail of his plan had to be flawless, as there was no room for error. His eyes burned with a fierce determination as he reviewed his strategy, driven by an urgency that eclipsed everything else.
The transfer to another station was both a challenge and an opportunity. Sukuna knew that it was now or never. The trial, the mounting evidence, the relentless pressure—it was all converging, and he couldn't afford to wait any longer. He had to act before the walls closed in completely.
His trusted allies were already in place, each responsible for a specific aspect of the escape plan. They were prepared to act on his command, ready to execute their roles with precision.
He had chosen the moment of the transfer as the critical juncture. The logistics of moving him from one facility to another would create an opportunity for chaos, and Sukuna intended to exploit it to the fullest. Timing was everything; the guards, the transport vehicles, the schedules—they all had to be perfectly synchronized.
His transfer would be happning in the middle of the night and he knews the darkness more then any of them.
Sukuna’s escape unfolded in a precise and explosive manner. The night was eerily quiet as the transfer convoy, a small fleet of armored vehicles, began its journey across the city. The vehicles were heavily guarded, but Sukuna’s allies had anticipated every detail.
In the shadows of an abandoned warehouse, Sukuna’s team awaited their signal. At precisely 2:00 AM, the sound of distant explosions echoed through the streets. A series of controlled blasts—set off at strategic points along the route—created chaos and confusion.
As the convoy slowed to a halt, the guards scrambled to assess the situation. Smoke and debris filled the air, obstructing their view. Sukuna’s team moved quickly, their movements were coordinated and efficient. They used the chaos to their advantage, launching a well-orchestrated assault on the convoy.
Sukuna, shackled but defiant, was swiftly freed by his loyalists. The armored doors of the transport vehicle were blown open with a powerful charge, and Sukuna was pulled out amidst the chaos. He moved with the confidence of a man who had planned every detail, his imposing presence cutting through the confusion.
In the ensuing skirmish, the guards were overpowered. Sukuna’s allies handled the situation with ruthless efficiency, neutralizing any resistance. A getaway vehicle—a sleek, black van—was positioned just outside the perimeter of the chaos. Sukuna was ushered inside, the vehicle’s engine roaring to life as it sped away.
The convoy’s wreckage and the disarray it caused served as a perfect distraction. As the city’s sirens wailed in the distance, Sukuna’s van vanished into the darkness, merging seamlessly with the night.
By the time law enforcement arrived, the area was deserted, save for the remnants of the skirmish. Sukuna was already far from the scene, on his way to a hidden safehouse where he would regroup.
Sukuna arrived at the hidden safehouse, his mind racing with the next steps of his plan. The building was a fortress, meticulously prepared for such a contingency. The door swung open to reveal his trusted allies, their faces etched with relief and apprehension.
"Where is she?" Sukuna’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble as he stepped inside. His gaze swept across the room, scanning the faces of those who had been waiting for his arrival.
The atmosphere was thick with tension. His allies shifted uneasily, their eyes darting away from his intense stare.
Uraume, who had been his closest confidant and right-hand man, stepped forward hesitantly. His expression was one of guilt and discomfort. “Sukuna, I—”
“Where is she?” Sukuna’s tone grew sharper, his impatience evident. The urgency in his voice was unmistakable, the underlying threat clear.
Uraume’s eyes flickered to the floor, unable to meet Sukuna’s gaze. “She’s not here.”
“What do you mean she’s not here?” Sukuna’s voice was a low growl, his anger barely contained. “I told you to keep her safe.”
“We had no choice,” Uraume stammered, his voice trembling. “The authorities raided her location just before we could bring her here. They took her.”
The room fell into a stunned silence as Uraume’s words settled over everyone. Sukuna’s face twisted in fury, his eyes blazing with a dangerous intensity. “How could this happen? You were supposed to protect her.”
“We tried,” Uraume pleaded. “But they were too fast. We couldn’t get to her in time. She’s—she’s been taken.”
Uraume pulled his phone from his pocket, his hands shaking slightly as he navigated to the trending news. He turned the screen towards Sukuna, who took it with a growing sense of dread.
On the screen, the footage was raw and unfiltered. You, his wife, were shown in a state of vulnerability he could barely stomach. The news clips displayed you being dragged out of your home, barefoot and clad only in a nightgown. The humiliation you endured was broadcasted for everyone to see.
Sukuna's eyes widened as he saw the reporters and law enforcement officers surrounding you, their faces a mixture of shock and disdain. You were trying to shield your face, a gesture that only drew more invasive attention from the cameras. The footage captured the derision and mocking laughter of the onlookers, further amplifying your distress.
The sight of you exposed and mistreated ignited a storm of fury within Sukuna. His face hardened, his breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts. Each chuckle and sneer from the crowd felt like a personal affront. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to contain his rage.
This was the reason he hated people. Every last one of them. Sukuna had never seen himself as human to begin with. All those filthy pigs needed to be wiped out for even looking at you. He couldn't even imagine how scared you must have been.
You were his only equal in this lifetime. He was a god, and you were his wife. His. So why were they touching you?
The thought alone drove him to the brink of madness. Sukuna paced the room, his mind a whirlwind of anger and dark promises. The image of you, vulnerable and mistreated, was seared into his memory. His fists clenched and unclenched, the need for violent retribution burning in his veins.
"Uraume," Sukuna called, his voice a low growl. "I want everyone involved in her capture found. Every last one of them."
Uraume nodded, knowing better than to question his master in this state. "We'll find them, Sukuna."
Sukuna's eyes gleamed with a deadly resolve. "They will pay. I'll make sure of it."
He paused, staring out of the window into the night. The darkness outside mirrored the storm within him. He could feel the weight of his power, the urge to unleash it upon those who dared to harm you. The world would tremble before him; they would know the wrath of Sukuna Ryomen.
"They think they can touch a god's wife and walk away unscathed," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "They'll learn the hard way."
With one last look at the news footage, Sukuna made a silent vow. He would tear apart anyone who had a hand in your suffering. He would not rest until you were safe and those responsible were obliterated. His fury would be their downfall, and his love for you, his strength.
<^>
What followed was Sukuna going to war. He had made up his mind: either he was going to get you back, or this city was burning down with everyone in it.
Everyone knew that Sukuna was the ultimate boss. Even the police and judges were well-paid by him. He had people everywhere. He gave the police ten hours to decide which option they preferred: let you go or let the city be thrown into chaos. Their little civilized brains hadn't caught up to the reality that if they didn't do what he said, it wasn't going to be pretty.
His message was clear, relayed through every channel he controlled. The underworld buzzed with the impending storm, while the city’s law enforcement scrambled, torn between duty and survival.
"Ten hours," Sukuna growled into the phone, his voice cold and menacing. "Either release her, or I turn this city into a war zone."
In the police headquarters, chaos reigned. Officers whispered amongst themselves, fear evident in their eyes. The commissioner, pale and sweating, stared at the clock, knowing time was running out.
"Sukuna's not bluffing," one of the senior officers said, his voice trembling. "He has the power to do it. We all know that."
"We can't just give in to him," another argued, though his voice lacked conviction.
Meanwhile, Sukuna mobilized his forces. Streets were lined with his men, heavily armed and ready to unleash hell. Strategic points throughout the city were rigged to explode, should it come to that. His allies in high places subtly withdrew their support from the police, leaving them isolated and vulnerable.
"Uraume," Sukuna commanded, "ensure our men are ready. We move as soon as the deadline passes."
Uraume nodded, already coordinating the efforts. "Everything is in place, Sukuna. The city is ours for the taking."
As the hours ticked away, the tension grew palpable. The police commissioner received calls from terrified city officials, urging him to comply with Sukuna's demands. The dilemma was stark: bow to a criminal or face unprecedented destruction.
The deadline approached, and the city held its breath. Sukuna stood poised, a god of wrath ready to strike. He knew they wouldn't risk the destruction he promised. They would have to release you.
Finally, with mere minutes to spare, the commissioner made the call. "Release her," he ordered, defeated. "We can't afford to lose the city."
Within moments, the news reached Sukuna. His expression remained stoic, but a dangerous glint of satisfaction flashed in his eyes. "Prepare for her return," he instructed Uraume. "And make sure the city knows—this is what happens when they cross me."
As you were brought to the edge of the city, you saw the devastation that had almost been unleashed. Sukuna’s men surrounded you, their presence a testament to his power and influence. You were quickly escorted to a waiting car, and as you settled into the seat, the reality of your situation began to sink in.
The car sped through the city, and within minutes, you were reunited with Sukuna. His fierce, protective embrace enveloped you, his rage barely contained.
"I'm here," you whispered, trying to calm him. "I'm safe."
He held you tighter, his voice a low growl. "They’ll pay for what they did to you. Every last one of them."
And as the city slowly returned to its uneasy peace, everyone knew that Sukuna Ryomen was a force to be reckoned with, a god among men who would stop at nothing to protect what was his.
"Did they do anything to you, Y/N?" Sukuna's voice was a low growl, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "I swear if you lie to me..."
You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "No, Sukuna," you said softly. "They didn’t hurt me. They just wanted information. They were rough, but they didn't...do anything else."
His grip on you tightened, his anger palpable. "If you’re lying to protect them, I’ll find out, and they’ll wish they were never born."
"I'm not lying," you assured him, placing a hand on his cheek. "I’m okay. They tried to intimidate me, but that didn't work."
Sukuna took off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, shielding you from prying eyes. Then, with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his earlier rage, he lifted you in a bridal carry.
"We will kill all of them," he vowed, his voice cold and deadly. "I hate it when filth looks at you."
You nestled into his chest, feeling the reassuring thud of his heartbeat. Despite the chaos surrounding you, there was an odd comfort in his embrace. Sukuna's fierce protectiveness was a double-edged sword, but in this moment, it was exactly what you needed.
"Are you okay, love?" you asked,
"Don't worry about me, woman. I am fine," Sukuna replied, his tone firm but with a hint of softness reserved only for you.
"Okay, okay," you nodded, trying to calm your racing heart. "What are we going to do, Sukuna?"
"We'll have to go underground for a while," he said, his eyes scanning the surroundings as if planning his next move. "Or we can go to Japan. You pick."
You took a deep breath, considering the options. Both paths had their dangers, but with Sukuna by your side, you knew you could face anything. "Let's go to Japan," you decided. "It's time to start over, somewhere they won't find us."
Sukuna nodded, a glint of approval in his eyes. "Japan it is, then." He held you closer, his grip protective and reassuring. "I have some unfinished business there anyway."
<^>
Two days later
You were packed and ready to go. Everything here was finished, and before Sukuna and you left, he made sure to remind his little fan club followers that he was still in charge. "If anything happens, let me know, and I’ll be back," he told them, his tone leaving no room for doubt. Even though you two were leaving, Sukuna's influence remained unshaken, a force to be reckoned with.
Sitting in the safehouse living room, you watched the news, which seemed to be all about you. Even the petty celebrity channels were discussing the cost of your nightgown and how your messy bedhead had become a trend on TikTok. You felt a mixture of emotions, wanting to cry and laugh at the same time. How could people be such idiots?
Sukuna walked in, noticing your expression. "What’s so funny?"
You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Just the absurdity of it all. They’re turning everything into a spectacle."
He snorted, sitting down next to you. "Let them. They have no idea what’s really going on."
You leaned into him, feeling a rare moment of calm amidst the chaos. "How is the cover-up story coming along?"
He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your neck and inhaling your scent. "Good," he murmured against your skin. "They will apologize to us by name for falsely accusing and wrongfully arresting us."
You sighed, relief washing over you. "That’s a start. But what about everything else? The loose ends?"
Sukuna's expression hardened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "We’ll tie them up. Do not worry about anything. I took you out of this life for a reason. I do not want you to be part of it. Got it? Just sit and be my wife."
You met his gaze, feeling the intensity of his resolve. "I understand, Sukuna. I trust you."
His expression softened slightly, and he kissed your forehead. "Good. Focus on us, on our life. Leave the rest to me."
You nodded, having trusted him fully ever since you met him. This was no different. Kissing his cheek softly, you murmured, "I have a big surprise for you when we get to Japan."
Sukuna raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity breaking through his stern demeanor. "Oh? And what might that be?"
You smiled mysteriously, leaning closer. "You'll just have to wait and see."
For a moment, the intensity in his eyes softened, replaced by a flicker of anticipation. "I look forward to it, then," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But until then, stay close to me."
<^>
The journey was far from pleasant. Despite the luxury of the private jet—a gift from Sukuna on a random Thursday—it was a rough ride. You felt nauseous and unwell, every bump and shake in the air adding to your discomfort. The opulence of the jet did little to alleviate your unease, though Sukuna had spared no expense in ensuring you traveled in style.
Sukuna, ever the perfectionist, had arranged this jet because he couldn't bear the thought of you traveling with anyone but the highest standard. The idea of you being exposed to the common experience of commercial flights was, in his view, unthinkable. You deserved nothing but the best, and he was determined to provide it.
As you lay back in the plush seats, surrounded by the jet’s elegant decor, Sukuna watched over you with a mix of concern and affection. His desire to shield you from every discomfort, no matter how trivial, was clear.
He approached you, a glass of water in hand, his gaze softening as he saw the weariness in your eyes. "Here, drink this. It’ll help."
You accepted the water gratefully, managing a weak smile. "Thank you, Sukuna. It's just been a tough trip."
He sat beside you, his presence a comforting weight. “I know,” he said gently. “We’ll get there soon, and everything will be better. Just hang in there a little longer.”
Leaning onto his lap, you asked, “By the way, what do you mean when you say you have unfinished business here?”
Sukuna’s hand gently stroked your hair as he spoke. “Unfinished business means there are things in Japan that I need to handle before we can move forward. There are old scores to settle and people who need to be reminded of their place. It’s not just about us; it’s about making sure everything is in order before we truly start anew.”
His tone was calm but carried an edge of seriousness. He shifted slightly, ensuring you were comfortable. “I want you to focus on feeling better. The rest will be taken care of.”
"Yes, sir," you replied, your voice soft but resolute.
<^>
As soon as you set foot in the grand entrance of your new house, you rushed to the nearest bathroom and collapsed by the toilet. The nausea that had plagued you during the flight intensified with the sudden change of environment.
You threw up, your body convulsing as you emptied the contents of your stomach. The sounds of concern from the people escorting you and Sukuna filtered through the door, their worried murmurs growing louder.
Sukuna, hearing the commotion, stormed into the bathroom, his face a mix of fury and concern. Seeing you in such distress, his anger turned toward the staff.
"How dare you show her this monstrosity! This place is clearly causing her more distress!" he roared, his voice echoing off the marble walls.
As you leaned against the sink, the last remnants of your nausea fading, you heard Sukuna's furious shouting echoing through the house. His rage was directed at the staff, his voice booming and harsh.
"Call the doctors, you useless cunts! Can’t you do one thing right?" His anger reverberated through the marble halls, making the situation even more unbearable.
With a deep, weary sigh, you rinsed your mouth and wiped your face, smudged mascara streaking down your cheeks. Exhaustion and frustration washed over you. Sukuna’s shouting only added to your stress, making the whole experience even more overwhelming.
“Shut the fuck up, Sukuna, and come here right now!” you snapped, your voice cutting through his rage. Despite his imposing presence, Sukuna found himself momentarily subdued by your commanding tone. He knew you rarely got angry; your usual nonchalance and detachment were well-known.
Sukuna stopped in his tracks, eyes wide with surprise as he approached you cautiously.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice softening, though still laced with worry.
“Stop yelling, my head’s pounding, and it’s not because of the house,” you retorted, your voice tinged with frustration. “I’m pregnant. That was your surprise.”
You slowly sank to the floor, exhaustion weighing you down. The shock on his face was palpable as he tried to process your announcement.
“I’m keeping it,” you added quietly.
Sukuna froze, his expression a mix of shock and stunned silence. He stared at you for a moment, processing the news, before his gaze softened slightly.
“If you want it, sure,” he said, his voice calmer now. “I don’t mind.”
“Good. Now help me up,” you said, your voice tired. “I’m going to throw up again. Also, get me sushi.”
Part 1 ( Part 2 )
Summary: you and sukuna are mafie couple (kinda)
Warnings: sukuna is asshole, bullying, suicidal thoughts, family dysfunction, cannibalism, bit darks so yeah.
A/T: I promise you my first born and my left kidney this one has a happy ending and pls still keep me on your invite list for your sukuna theme birthday party ☹️
You met Sukuna when you were trying to kill yourself. Simple as that. There was no love story, no tension, and no love at first sight. Just a depressed girl trying to end it all and an insane psycho on the wanted list saving her.
He didn't even save you because he cared or felt bad. No, it was because you chose a building that was his warehouse holding many illegal things, and if you died there, it would draw unwanted attention.
So he saved you. But it was more like he saved himself a lot of problems.
He was the most selfish man you had ever met. He was so insane, so crazy, that he was almost free. He was wanted everywhere he went; everything he touched turned to blood or death. He had no love to offer and no empathy whatsoever.
He was wanted for everything under the sun and more. This man had cannibalism on his list, so it was no surprise to see any crimes he committed.
He just did not care. No fucks are given. He was 23 when you two met, and you were just turning 20. Life has been harsh and unkind to you. With nobody to understand and no friends to count on, you were slowly losing it.
The bullying from school, the family dysfunction, the emotional absence of your parents—what broke the camel's back was when your mother's boyfriend tried to assault you, and she kicked you out for seducing her husband. She had always been jealous of you and everything you had done. She had picked a strange man over her own daughter.
You saw the empty warehouse, and it was tall enough that you wouldn't survive and become even more of a pain in the ass by being paralyzed or something like that. So, on the third night of being homeless, you have had enough. The winter was harsh, and you had seen everything by now.
Death would be rest; it would be a comfort compared to this.
Standing on the edge and looking down, the wind was stronger here, and it was so cold too. If the height did not kill you, the winter would do the job.
You didn't even have anyone to text "I love you" or "thank you" to. That was how pathetic you were. Letting the last tear drop to your cheek and closing your eyes, you let go.
But then there was a hand.
Someone pulled you backward.
God? Had he finally answered your call?
No, it was actually the devil himself.
As you lay on the ground, looking up at him, he sneered, “What a silly little girl you are,” and blew smoke in your face.
You lay on the cold ground, staring up at Sukuna, who stood over you with a disdainful look.
“What… dude, what is your problem?” You asked, your voice trembling.
Sukuna's expression remained unchanged. “Look here, if you want to kill yourself, do it somewhere else. I don’t want any trouble here, you hear me?”
His words were as harsh as the winter wind. There was no hint of sympathy, only a blunt demand for you to leave. The lack of compassion stung almost as much as the cold. You realized, in that moment, that his concern was not for your well-being but for his own convenience.
You looked at Sukuna, feeling a bitter mix of frustration and resignation. You can't even die in peace, you thought, but you nodded in defeat. “Fine,” you said, your voice barely a whisper.
“You see that building over there?" He pointed to the tallest building. "It’s taller. Trust me, you wouldn’t survive that one, so do it there.”
The harsh reality of his words cut deep, but there was a grim sense of finality in them. Sukuna’s indifference was almost a relief compared to the constant emotional turmoil you’d been through. You turned to leave, the weight of your decision heavy on your shoulders.
“Wait, little girl, come here,” Sukuna’s voice cut through the frigid air. You turned to see him sitting on a broken air conditioner, smoke curling from his cigarette. He was shrouded in a dark hood, his face was partially obscured, but his imposing figure was unmistakable. At well over 6'5", he was a mountain of muscle, dressed head-to-toe in black.
“Do you need a job?” he asked, his tone nonchalant as he took another drag of his cigarette.
Confusion etched on your face, you hesitated. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah,” he replied, unfazed by your surprise. “I have a job if you want it. Are you good with numbers?”
The offer came out of nowhere, and you weren’t sure if it was some cruel joke or a genuine opportunity.
“Yeah, I’m good with numbers…” you replied, your voice trailing off.
“Good, good,” Sukuna said, his tone almost indifferent. “You see, I need someone who can count money—lots of money—make sure it’s real, and handle drug calculations. You think you can do that?”
You thought about it for a moment. Considering you were on the brink of death and your situation couldn’t possibly get any worse, why not? What did you have to lose?
“Yeah, I can. When can I start?”
Sukuna raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in his eyes. “You won’t even ask how much you’ll make?”
“I don’t care if it’s more than ten bucks,” you said, your desperation clear.
Sukuna’s smirk widened slightly. “Alright then. I’ll give you the details later. For now, just stick around.” He tossed a key and some cash at you. “From now on, you’ll live here. This place has a bed and a bathroom. I’ll get you whatever you need. Rest for today, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You caught the key and the cash, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty. It wasn’t the kind of opportunity you had ever imagined, but in the face of imminent despair, it was something—an unexpected chance to pull yourself out of the abyss.
“Thanks,” you muttered, though you weren’t sure what you were truly thankful for. The promise of a bed and some semblance of stability, however tenuous, was a small comfort in the midst of your turmoil.
<^>
That was how it all began. The empire you and Sukuna would build, and in just a little over four years, you both were millionaires with so many properties and so many things ahead of you.
The empire was built on the bodies of people who were your enemies or were just in the way. You were the brains, while Sukuna handled everything else. You handled the drugs and money laundering while others managed other parts, but you brought in more money than any of them combined.
Of course, you had gotten into trouble before, or there were some spies within the ranks, but you both could overcome anything.
Over the years you had known Sukuna, you and he had gotten to know each other on a deeper level. People may not believe it or choose not to believe it, but there was no sexual relationship for the first four years of your friendship.
He had surprised you in so many ways, and you owed him your life, even if he didn't care.
You realized that he indeed had many undiagnosed issues, but you were not there to solve or figure him out, and that is what he liked about you. You weren't fixing or changing him; it was actually the other way around. He was doing the fixing.
He loved how easy it was to be with you. You just knew when to do or say things. No one could read Sukuna like you. No words were needed for you both to understand each other. Some people found it weird and disturbing, but he did not give a shit.
He never felt judged when it came to you. He could talk about the most outrageous things, and even if you did not agree with his ideas, you would listen and understand his thought process. No one had done that for Sukuna before.
He did not realize it, but he had come to depend on you in many ways, both emotionally and for business. He trusted no one and talked to no one except himself or you. This man could not trust his own shadow but trusted you with his money and where he had hidden it. Sometimes he even gave you some to hide for him.
One night while he was high, he told you about his crimes, and you asked many questions, all of which he answered correctly. You knew this man was and is evil and will continue to be his way. He would not change or be fixed. He told you that was why he did not like women too much.
"They all try to fix me. I don't need to be fixed, Y/N. You know that, right?"
Of course, you did. You nodded, rolling his joint. He told you what the business future would be and how it would move forward. Sometimes he told you about his long-lost twin brother, Sukuna, who was kicked out after his first kill. He had not seen him for a long time.
"Did you miss him?" He was now lying on your lap. You were both in bed. He had come to your house in the dead of night to talk. He liked to touch your skin—nothing sexual but just to cuddle you naked. That was when you saw his never-ending tattoos. He was like an art museum in a person. He was an art.
"I don't know. We were never close. He was a good person, and I cared for him. When we were hungry, I cooked for him, cleaned him, and was a big brother to him, even though we were the same age. He needed someone to look after him. Grandpa was getting old and was busy. I knew him in the womb; I should have eaten him there. I remember I was hungry…"
Things he said didn't make sense sometimes. He saw dreams and felt things that made no sense, but he saw and felt them.
The longer you two knew each other, the clingier Sukuna became. He slowly moved in with you. It took a year, but now he is here all the time. He slept in the same bed as you, but with his body and height, you had to upgrade the bed and quality. He even slowly started taking showers with you. Seeing each other naked was no surprise to you both.
He was not aroused, and you weren't either, but he had this constant need to touch you in some way and be closer to you. You two became inseparable. You two were slowly becoming one person.
It took a while for you to open up to Sukuna, but slowly you did. You two would sit in a bath and talk about your life, your trauma, your thoughts, and your dreams. You told him one day you wanted to go to art school and do something with that. The next day, he got you a notebook and hired someone to teach you art.
You came to realize Sukuna was selfish, an asshole, a psychopath, and all of the above, but he had a side to him, like the moon. There was an unseen and dark part of him that was so vulnerable and caring in his own twisted way. In his own way, cannibalism was love. Just like kissing, when he loved someone, he wanted to give himself wholly to others but also take the other person as a whole.
Not many people could handle that and match his intensity like you did. Sometimes you were more intense, and he got surprised by the things you said, like your opinions on current politics or the meaning of life, souls, human patterns, even as useless as celebrity gossip.
<^>
The first time he kissed you was on your 24th birthday, and after that, everything spiraled out of control. Your whole life, you had never been in a relationship or even wanted one. In this business, there were many men who tried things with you, but they got turned down quickly. It wasn't because you had someone in mind; you just weren't interested. Your view on relationships was shaped by your parents' marriage, and if that was what marriage looked like, you wanted no part of it. In a way, it was a trauma response, but who gives a shit.
He kissed you in bed after you had taken a shower and finished everything in your very dark house. He just got up and kissed you. The kiss was exactly how you imagined Sukuna's kiss would be. He might as well have sucked your soul out. You tried to get away, but he held the back of your neck tightly. You tried to hit his chest or push him away, but that just made him pull you even closer. Your lungs were burning, and the way he tasted made you feel fuzzy and dizzy. After the shower, he didn't bother putting anything on, and that just added to the strangeness of it all.
He had never shown any attraction to you unless you count the fact that he can't, in fact, live without you. He had seen every part of your soul and body. Yes, your relationship with him was strange and unique. At some point, you gave up and let him kiss you, your hand on his heart, and you could hear it. He was on another planet.
The kiss lingered, turning from something forceful into something almost tender. His grip on your neck softened, and his other hand moved to cradle your face. You could feel his breath mixing with yours, and the heat of his body against your skin. The room seemed to close in around you, with only the two of you existing in that moment.
When he finally pulled back, he looked at you with an intensity that was both frightening and mesmerizing. His eyes seemed to pierce right through you, as if he was seeing into the deepest parts of your soul.
“Why did you do that?” You whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.
Sukuna smirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Because I wanted to,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.
You wanted to argue, to demand more of an explanation, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you just stared at him, searching for something in his expression that might give you a clue to his thoughts. But as always, Sukuna was an enigma.
From that moment on, things changed between you. The line between friends and something more became increasingly blurred.
Everything was the same, yet nothing was the same. The main difference was that Sukuna now had to kiss and suck your face for at least 10 minutes every hour. He seemed insatiable, constantly craving the taste and feel of you. His kisses were rough and intense, leaving your lips swollen and bruised. He loved to bite and suck your blood when he kissed you, a mix of pain and pleasure that made your head spin.
You tried to push him away at times, but this gigantic man wouldn’t budge an inch. He held you firmly, his strength overwhelming, and you had no choice but to surrender to his passionate advances. Despite the roughness, there was an undeniable heat between you, a magnetic pull that made it impossible to resist him.
Sukuna’s need to be close to you, to touch and taste you, became a constant in your life. He was possessive, always wanting you near, wanting to touch you, wanting your attention on him 25/8.
One night, you were both high and making out. He had started to kiss your neck, leaving hickeys. It was all going too fast, but he stopped himself, surprising both of you. When he met you the next day, he never talked about it.
Two months later, it happened again. This time, he did not stop himself. He looked into your eyes to see if you didn’t want it, but he saw nothing. He took you to his car and went to a secluded area, saying nothing, just caressing your thigh. What you two did was not sex or a fuck. It felt like you exchanged souls—some sort of ritual. It was dark and intense, and you were certain you saw Sukuna’s eyes become even redder and saw his eyes double.
It was your first time, and he knew it. It was slow; he bit and sucked your blood more than you could count. The drug in your system, with him being inside you and constantly blowing smoke on your face, made you just crumble. Your body was red and purple by the time he was done with you.
No one could touch you but him. You were his to keep and use.
You did not go out the whole week after that, and when you did, he told you that if any man or woman tried to touch you, he would kill them.
When you saw his eyes, you realized he was serious.
You had slept with a man with many issues and a dark past. He had no soul, no empathy, no nothing. His pleasure was yours. You lived to serve him.
Sukuna never made it official. He was an official liar and manipulator, but he had a soft spot for you. As long as he was not denying you, you did not care what others thought or said.
<^>
2 years later/present day
"How are you related to Sukuna Ryomen?"
"I am his wife."
"Do you have a marriage certificate to prove that?"
"Yes, but I do not have it with me now."
"How is your relationship with Sukuna?"
"I just told you." The black sunglasses you were wearing made it difficult to see your true emotions, but it was clear that he would not get any information out of you.
"Look, ma'am, we just want to help you, okay? If you could testify against your husband, trust me, you would not have any sentencing. You are the key here. You knew he was a monster and a killer. If you can just tell us what you know…"
"Look, officer, all I know and all I have ever known is that Sukuna is my husband. I do not know what kind of job he did or his business. Frankly, I do not care. And I will not testify against my husband."
The officer sighed, frustration evident in his eyes. He leaned forward, his voice taking on a more urgent tone. "Ma'am, you have to understand the gravity of the situation. Sukuna Ryomen is not just any criminal. He's involved in some of the most heinous crimes imaginable. If you don't cooperate, you'll be seen as an accomplice."
"I understand what you're saying, but Sukuna is my husband. I made my choice, and I will stand by him."
The officer leaned back, his frustration written all over his face. He wasn't getting anywhere with you, and he knew it. "Alright, ma'am," he said, standing up and gathering his papers. "We'll continue this tomorrow."
As he left, you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Meeting with at least three officers a day was exhausting, but you had to stay strong. This was their plan—to wear you down until you slip up. But you wouldn't fall for it.
You understood their motives. Each officer wanted to be the hero who brought down the infamous Sukuna Ryomen, and you were the key to their success. What they didn't realize was that you had meticulously changed your identity, scrubbing your past clean. To the outside world, you were simply the mysterious and beautiful wife of Lord Sukuna. No one knew anything about your true background except Sukuna himself.
Sukuna had always been cautious, eliminating anyone who got too close to the two of you every two years. "People shouldn't know too much about us," he would say. "The less they see and know, the better."
You replayed the events that led to this moment in your mind. Sukuna had made just one mistake, a single misstep that had triggered this entire mess. It was a minor slip-up, but in his world, even the smallest mistake could have catastrophic consequences.
It had happened a few weeks ago. Sukuna had been working on a major deal, one that would have secured his empire's future. Everything had been meticulously planned, but an unforeseen variable—a mole within his ranks—had thrown everything into chaos. The mole had been planted by law enforcement, and their information had led to a raid on one of Sukuna's most important operations.
Despite his best efforts, Sukuna couldn't cover up the evidence. The raid had resulted in several arrests, and those arrested had quickly turned informants, pointing fingers at Sukuna. The authorities had pieced together enough evidence to launch a full-scale investigation, leading to your current predicament.
Sukuna had anticipated this and had made arrangements for your safety. "If they catch me," he had said, "you must deny everything. Stay strong. We have contingencies in place."
And so, here you were, facing daily interrogations, holding firm to your story. You would protect Sukuna, just as he had protected you. No matter the cost, you were determined to see this through.
Your marriage to Sukuna happened only a year ago, and it was the happiest moment of your life. You had hoped it was the same for Sukuna. The ceremony was simple and secret, just the two of you in the middle of the night. He had spent the entire day exhausting you with sex and kisses, and in a haze of intimacy, he had casually asked if you would marry him.
That was it. No grand gestures, no witnesses, just the two of you.
No one even knew you were in a relationship, let alone married.
After the marriage, Sukuna had insisted you quit working. He wanted to give you a normal life, one where you could do anything and meet anyone—as long as it was approved by him. Yes, he was beyond controlling and jealous, possessive, and exhibited every red flag in the book, but somehow, it worked. The relationship and the marriage worked.
You had always wanted to be on autopilot, to let someone else take the reins, and Sukuna was the ultimate control freak.
In his world, control was everything. He dictated the terms, and you followed, finding a strange comfort in his dominance. The life he gave you was one of luxury and protection, albeit with the caveat of his stringent rules. He monitored your interactions, vetted your acquaintances, and kept a tight grip on every aspect of your life.
Despite the constraints, there was a deep, undeniable connection between you. Sukuna’s intensity, his fierce protectiveness, and the raw passion he had for you made you feel alive in ways you had never experienced before. The way he looked at you, as if you were the only person in the world that mattered, made all the control and possessiveness worth it.
Your days were filled with a mixture of lavish experiences and quiet moments of intimacy. Sukuna showered you with gifts and affection, but it was the private moments that you cherished the most. The way he would hold you, his touch, both gentle and commanding, made you feel safe and loved.
The secrecy of your relationship added an element of excitement and danger. It was like living a double life, one where the outside world saw you as a mysterious figure, while only you and Sukuna knew the truth of your bond.
Now, as you faced the officers day after day, you clung to the memories of your life with Sukuna. The happiness, the passion, and the unwavering loyalty you had for each other were your anchors. You knew that no matter what they said or did, you would not betray him.
The authorities believed they could break you, but they underestimated the strength of your connection with Sukuna. You had made your choice a long time ago, and you would stand by it, no matter the cost.
a pic from yuuji’s camera roll <3 little harder to look back on after shibuya but he can’t bring himself to delete it (it’d be like losing them all over again)
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