Miku Miku 

(college au) she was a baseballer he did ballet

demo of all time

May I request a fake dating scenario with Childe? (sorry i know its cliche but its my favorite trope🙈) Perhaps he and f reader are on an undercover mission to gain intel at a function, like a dinner party or a festival of some sort, and Childe is way more interested in committing to the bit than the mission itself. Like, he intentionally took on an easy mission so that he could indulge in his time with the reader because he "takes his job seriously" or something like that😏

Fatui operative reader*

—

“You said you’d take this seriously.” You chided him, pushing for the fifth time his hand away from your hip while you looked through the crowd for your target. It should have been a rather easy mission: get close enough to the ambassador that they’ll tell you about the incoming shipment. Once you got what you needed you’d inform the other operatives waiting near the docks, they’d sneak in during the night and lift all the goods before anyone grew wise to the situation. However, after much pestering from a specific Harbinger, this simple task was turning into a headache inducing nightmare.

“I am, dear.” He ran his finger over your ear and out of your peripherals you caught sight of the calculating grin that pulled one side of his lips.

“You don’t have to pretend right now, no ones looking at us.” Pretending to rummage through your pouch, you noticed a esteemed looking figure walking through the door, someone as elegantly dressed as that must be your ambassador. “She’s here.” You whispered, nudging your chin in her direction and slipping the money pouch back in your side bag. “Let’s get closer.”

“Don’t get to hasty, let’s see what she does.” Childe moved behind you, his hand sliding over your back and making you hyper aware of each and every inch he occupied. His chest somehow so noticeable even though he never touched you with it, the proximity of him as he leaned against the wall and draped his arm over your shoulder before pulling you closer made your brain fuzzy and, for a moment, you lost sight of her. “Can you make out what she’s saying?” He spoke in a lower tone, an attempt to keep his words only for you or … was he trying to make you shiver.

Carefully, you focused your attention on her lips. Eyes squinting against the light as you tried to decipher what she was saying. The expression on her face shifted from one of familiarity to irritation, but it was so slight and quickly replaced by a smile her companion never caught it. “She’s upset.”

“Why?”

You opened your mouth to explain only to be cut off by his arm sliding off your shoulder so his hand could run down your back. The slow trail he made up and down your spine made you furious; you were trying to do your job, trying to get what you needed and to not be swayed, distracted by the pounding of your heart or the hot breaths you took while sharing the intel. “Sh-she’s asking why the shipments late.” Stopping his hand with your clenching fingers, you pushed his wrist back toward his chest and swore you heard a soft giggle at your side. Coughing, you continued. “It looks like he’s telling her it’ll be here soon.”

“Are the goods on the boat, look closely.” With a sigh, you strained your eyes to see, took in everything that you could in order to see her mouth form the shapes you needed to see.

“Yes!” You shouted a little louder than you anticipated and, because of that, the ambassadors turned toward you. You felt completely see-through under her eyes, a stab of fear shot through your heart when she looked at you, directly at you. In one fell swoop, Childe lifted you in the air and spun you around so much you lost your balance and you weren’t even using your own legs. “Ch-!”

“You said yes!! You’ve made me the happiest man in the world.” He let you slide down his chest but before you could fully grasp it all, he moved in and soon your lips were covered by his. The tight grip you had on his shoulders began to relax, your toes touched the ground but he continued to hold you; arms wrapped around your body, mouth commanding yours with lips so heavy you wondered how he exerted so much pressure onto them. When he released you, the air in your lungs came rushing in all at once while your mind did it’s best to refocus.

Things faded in slowly. Childe’s thank you’s to an applauding crowd, the drifting sound of your heart as it began to slow, the heat of your cheeks as you hid against his chest.

“She’s gone, we should follow her just in case.” He whispered into your hair, hand resting against your back while yours shook against his chest.

“You did that on purpose.”

“What makes you say that, comrade.” Lifting your eyes to see him, taking in every ounce of deviousness that radiated off his skin, you knew this partnership would be the death of you.

“Yo-you shouldn’t tease people like that.”

“Am I not allowed to tease my sweetheart? Where’s the fun in that.”

“I’m not really your sweetheart, remember.”

“Who says?” Childe ran his fingers over your ear until they found the back of your neck and you swore his intentions were clear as he leaned in for another kiss. Why was he so good at this fake dating ruse, it wasn’t fair. Your heart shouldn’t be so affected by this and yet …

“Childe …” Your eyes fluttered closed and you prepared for a kiss that never came. “Childe?”

“Expecting something, comrade? Our friends getting away.” Everything slammed back together as if he had slowly pulled you apart moments ago; how was he able to do that so easily? Frustrated, you clenched your jaw and pushed past him but when he ran after you only to slip his hand into yours it took everything you had to hold back a confused and irritated scream building in your throat while he easily let fall laughter that made your heart weak.

Sukuna assimilating to you

Synopsis: After discovering that Sukuna has been wide awake every time you nap together, you become embarrassed around him.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

It is a scientific fact that when we are around people we love and trust, while in a healthy relationship, the release of oxytocin makes us sleepy.

Sukuna does not need sleep. He is the king of curses, able to continuously use his technique without ever becoming exhausted. When you first suggested that his chambers were "perfect for napping", he had simply raised a brow and considered what that could possibly mean.

You are like a weak creature to him. A kitten or perhaps a rabbit. And since you are never safer than when you are in his presence, you frequently find yourself growing sleepy when you are around him.

Throughout your strange relationship with the king, something that you loved most, is that there never needs to be words exchanged between the two of you. You were both contented to sit in silence. Frequently dozing off together, or so you thought.

You caught on eventually, that he was always awake before you. That his breathing pattern never really changed. That his face never relaxed more than it would if he had simply been sitting with his eyes closed.

One morning, after having stayed the night sleeping, you mumbled to him, "How is it you're always awake before I?"

He rose a brow at you, his upper set of eyes were looking into yours, the lower staring at how you lay across his bed sheets.

"I do not know your meaning." He grumbled out.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "You never sleep in longer than I do, one day I would like to wake up before you."

"I never sleep at all." He stated before you had even really finished your sentace.

"What?" Your breathy outburst echoed slightly in his bed chamber, "What do you mean you don't sleep?"

"I do not require such things." He turned his torso now toward you, all four eyes studying your face, you had quickly sprung up, seemingly miffed.

"So... so all this time, you've just been... laying there while I've been sleeping?"

"I suppose I have, I do not see how this matters in the slightest." "It matters because I've been... It's just been a big waste of time for you. Sukuna you should have said something." You're upset, he can tell. Your face is scrunched up, your blood is pounding in your veins. Sukuna, however, does not know what to say in this situation.

In all honesty, he figured you knew and were just including him. Did you really think he was that weak? Or could you simply not conceive of a restless existence? Whatever the answer, he had no response for you, expecting a shrug of the shoulders- you he would discover, would not so easily let go of things.

And how humiliated you were. How many HOURS had you spent sleeping with him, within his grasp, in his space for him to have been conscious the whole time? You tried thinking back, attempting to recall a time you had requested a nap when he was uninterested.

He had never uttered a word about it. Never turned you down. Sukuna was not a kind king, he rarely ever did things that were not out of necessity, and he certainly did not do things he didn't like. That, at least, was consolation. You knew he had not been suffering for your sake, but even so, it was embarrassing.

Sukuna, still, could not understand your sheepishness about the subject. He did not care to explain that time works differently for him, that his mind is not so simple as yours and does not require entertainment all the time, that he could sit still for years and not be bothered, and frequently did before you came along.

He assumed you would get over it quickly. In your time as well as his. But days passed and he rarely saw you. You took your dinner with other people of the palace and spoke with him in the most cordial manner. One night, he informed Uraume that they needed to prepare a dish suited for you, something that would entice you, and serve it to him.

He figured this would bring you crawling back to him, tail between your legs. Yet, you did not budge.

Odd.

You were wallowing. You knew it. He did not care to spend time, what? Watching you sleep? Of course, he wouldn't, but it hurt your pride, to know you had been taking up such huge chunks of time lazing about in his presence. Well, not anymore. You slept in your chamber and your chamber alone. Gone were the days of blankets on the engawa, gone were the days of resting beneath the kotatsu while laying your head in his lap, gone were the days of sharing his bed.

If ever he wished for someone to share his bed, he had a whole cast of concubines, though you knew they were never of any use to him, they were mostly just house staff with a fancy title.

The evening he finally decided enough was enough, you were in the washhouse doing laundry.

Your back was arched over a bin full of soapy water. Your hands working tirelessly on some cloth.

"Have you not circumvented me enough?" He spoke in a low and slow tone.

"Lord Sukuna." You bowed, clothing in your hands, suds up your forearms, you bent your neck as to not look at him.

"You will reply now." He raised a brow, watching your hands quietly splash in the washbin.

"Was there something you would like me to assist to?" You questioned. Your head was full of possible reasons for what the king meant by seeking you out personally.

"Do you believe that by not sleeping in my presence I would come to believe you do not require rest?" He spoke in an unserious tone, eyes unblinking.

"No, my lord." Now what was he playing at? Of course that wasn't your intention.

"Then you hide yourself from me because you no longer have time for your king, I suppose." He mused.

Oh, for heaven's sake, "No, my lord."

"I see," He bent down to look you dead in the eyes, "So, you must no longer crave my occupancy of your space. You must not desire my hand running through your hair? I suppose you have tired of staying in my chambers?" His tone remained deep but his eyes were dead serious now.

"I-" You began, but suddenly you felt the urge to cough, swallowing you tried again, "I wished not to preoccupy so much of your time."

"And you made this decision without enlightening your king."

You said nothing.

"You will eat with me tonight, you shall stay in my chambers henceforth." He rose in record speed, turning without a second glance your way, maids were staring wide-eyed at the king of curses as he halted at the entrance of the washhouse. You could not see, but there was finality in his voice.

"I wish not to waste-" You were cut off by Sukunas voice, his broad back still facing you.

"Your wishes do not interest me now, so it seems. It is my wish for you to spend your time with me." His steps resounded through the compound, your face slack.

The maids smirked, and with shocked faces, side-eyed one another. A couple entered the washhouse giving you big open-mouthed smiles, and patted your shoulder as they passed.

That night Uraume made something you would go on to beg them to make for years to come. And when Sukuna pulled you prone from your seated position on his bed, he took a firm fingertip and stroked the space between your eyes, one of his enormous hands encircling your skull and massaging your temples with his thumb and ring fingers. He traced the bridge of your nose to your forehead, the way you would stroke a cat.

Perhaps he thought this would induce drowsiness but all it did was make you feel all floaty inside at his silliness.

And for the first time since that night, you slept alongside him. Within his embrace, and when you awoke, Sukuna's eyes were closed.

Yandere!Cowboy - NonCon

Yandere!Cowboy who comes to work on your father's ranch and who just can't seem to keep his eyes off you.

Yandere!Cowboy who looks at you from under the brim of his Stetson and you can't read his eyes at all, but by God can you feel the way they follow you.

Yandere!Cowboy who's a mean spirited bastard through and through. He doesn't hesitate to throw punches at the other ranch hands and from what you've seen, he hasn't yet lost a single fight.

Yandere!Cowboy who wants to be top dog so bad that you can practically feel him frothing for it.

Yandere!Cowboy who corners you in the stables on Sunday morning when all the good folk are at church and has you pinned up against the wall before you can even scream. One hand clamped down on your mouth and the other digging into your thigh.

Yandere!Cowboy who gives you two options - either you can be his girl and make this easier on yourself or he'll just fuck you dry.

Yandere!Cowboy who has been dying to fuck you since the moment he saw you, with your white sundress and cowboy boots.

Yandere!Cowboy who's been fucking his fist raw every night thinking about his pretty lil' lady and how good she would look on her knees.

Yandere!Cowboy who makes you suck his fingers before he rubs them on your clit. And by God, his hands are rough. Compared to the soft skin of your own fingers, it's like sandpaper. And he isn't gentle either. He rubs your pussy lips for just a second before he plunges two fingers knuckle deep in your cunt. He pumps them in and out of you so roughly that you whimper and squirm to get away from him. Oh, but he's relentless. He twists his fingers with every thrust and god can you feel it.

Yandere!Cowboy who keeps going, even when your legs are shaking and your eyes are pleading for him to be gentle.

Yandere!Cowboy who makes you suck your own cum off his fingers while he holds your jaw and forces you to look at him.

Yandere!Cowboy who doesn't show the tiniest ounce of mercy or patience. He has one of your legs around his waist and while you're still reeling from his fingers, he's already lining up his cock.

Yandere!Cowboy who doesn't give you even a hint of warning before he shoves himself into you, down to the hilt.

Yandere!Cowboy who can only grin as you arch your back so much that the crown of your head is against the wall.

Yandere!Cowboy who feels his cock throb when you scream into his hand. Who relishes the tears he brought to your eyes, the way you're practically climbing the wall to get away from his thrusting.

Yandere!Cowboy who makes sure to come deep inside you. Who makes sure to keep his cock stuffed in your pretty hole so nothing leaks out. His Southern drawl telling you that it's okay to cry, that he's got you. And that just makes you cry harder.

Yandere!Cowboy who holds your jaw in place and kisses you. Who says that he'll take care of you now. That he'll ask your pa for your hand as soon as he gets back from church.

Yandere!Cowboy who slowly pulls out of you and puts his hat on your head. Who wipes your tears away with a calloused thumb. Who grins at you like the devil and says he had to do this to you, so you have no choice but to be his.

Yandere!Cowboy who smells like gunpowder and hard liquor and who is so terribly in love with you.

geo dad adopts everyone challenge 

gojo never imagined an arrange marriage with you, but now you’re all he can think about.

he thinks about you when he’s training, when he’s seated at his round table, when he’s in his bed, everywhere, every time, you’re all he can think about.

and you’re oblivious to it.

you heard the gossip everywhere you walked, about the girl gojo was pleading with his family to marry. how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, how much more elegant she was compared to you. you knew you were never his first choice, not even his fifth, but it hurt even more when everybody acknowledged it.

you stopped wearing your wedding ring, started acting like you were just another person there. luckily gojo didn’t seem to be in any hurry about making heirs, so pretending like you two were working things out didn’t even matter anymore.

you find yourself alone most of the time. your maids were kind and patient, but they had so many things to do throughout the day that you felt awful pestering them to walk around the estate with you.

eating dinners with gojo became normal, but most of your other meals were in silence, always feeling like a speck of dust in the large dining hall.

one day when you’re walking around aimlessly you stumble across the training grounds, the open space below you filled with men swinging wooden swords back and forth at each other.

it wasn’t difficult to find your husband, his white hair hard to miss in a crowd of others. he didn’t notice you watching from above, and so you stayed hidden, not knowing if the men were picky with who watched them.

he was swift and agile. everything he did was precise and with meaning. no wonder he was named the best warrior of the north.

you found this to be more entertaining than walking around the gardens for the tenth time or watching the cooks assemble the next meal, so you didn’t even notice how gojo looked up to see you, somehow slipping away without you knowing.

you were in a state of watching but not really thinking, almost jumping out of your skin when you heard his voice behind you.

“didn’t know i had an audience,”

you yelp, flinching as you look behind you to see your husband all sweaty, panting slightly as he moves his hair away from his face. you eye the stairs that led him up here, wondering how you could’ve missed that.

you laugh sheepishly, giving him an apologetic smile as you pick are your nails.

“i’m sorry,” you scratch behind your ears, feeling heat rise to your cheeks under his intense gaze. it’s unfair how pretty somebody can look, especially after training for an hour straight, “i was just walking around and i saw this.”

he waved it off, shaking his head as he leaned his sword on the wall.

“not a problem,” his eyes shine, “i just would’ve tried harder if i knew my wife was watching.”

my wife.

the words fall so smoothly from his lips you wonder how many times he’s said it before. with malice, hatred, necessity?

you smile a little bit, eyes crinkling around the edges as you look away briefly, not noticing the way gojo chased after your cheerful face.

“how’d you get up here? where are your ladies?” he asks suddenly, looking around at the fact that it was just you up here.

“my what?” you say, looking up at him through furrowed brows.

“you know,” he waves his arm around as if that would help, “you’re ladies in waiting,”

you scrunch up your nose a little bit, something he noticed you did when you were confused.

“oh, well, my maids are working right now,” you tell him, noting that he still didn’t look any less confused.

“no, not your maids, your ladies,” he tilts his head to the side, “the girls your family sent them up to help you around.”

you stare at him, unblinking.

“the girls that are your friends, the ones that help accustom you…” gojo trials off when he realizes he’s not getting anywhere with you.

you feel even more embarrassed than when he caught you watching him, hating the way you were clueless at yet another thing in this life that no one explained to you.

“the girls you hang around with?” he finally lands on, hoping this jogs your memory.

you shake your head, eyes wide as you fidget with the fabric of your dress. his eyes fall onto your finger, lingering on the fact that you’re not wearing your ring.

“who do you spend your time with throughout the day?” gojo seems even more lost than you. he’s seen you with…? well surely that one time…?

“by,” you swallow, embarrassed, “by myself. i walk around a lot.” you admit sheepishly.

“your family didn’t send…?” he answers his own question with his silence.

this entire time you’ve been alone?

he opens his mouth to speak but somebody beats him to it.

“satoru! get down here! we’re still not done!” his friends shouts from below, and you look over your shoulder to see all the men staring at the two of you.

gojo stares at you, unblinking.

“i,” he swallows but can’t find any words.

you can’t either.

he leaves you there, running down those stairs as he shouts at the other guys to resume what they were doing. that entire day he was off his balance because he kept looking up to see you there, but you weren’t.

maybe you were just walking around, like you said.

my husband to be ! — they over hear you referring to them as your husband

characters : gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna

info : gn. reader, reader is referred to as ‘wife’ and ‘her’ in gojo’s but that’s it

a/n : this prompt is prolly ran thru but who gaf !!!!!

In Reca's ideal film, you'd be nothing more than a toy forced to spin at the twirls of a clockwork key ; a spectacle suspended in motion, complete allegiance to his direction, again and again in the palm of his hand. In that perfect shot, you would not rebel, fist against the surface of the screen in a plea to be leg go, no, you'd be easy to control.

“Do not be absurd, my dear! Has a bug chipped away at the film in your head? You would not survive a day away from my camera.”

The friction of his glove as it clasps onto the sinews of your arms clashes against the ricocheting waves of his voice in your ears. Cut! Cut! Cut! You need not return his stare to hear the panic reverberating through his head, just as he needs not respect a fraction of your personal space.

“My thoughts are perfectly lucid, director. I no longer wish to act under your guidance.” you push him back with a finger to his chest and he allows you to, his arms falling to his sides before rising with all the melodrama of a seasoned lunatic.

“What a way to say you wish me dead!” with a sweep, he's beside your stead.

“Have you forgotten your dream, my brightest star?” a brush of his breath against your ear, a firm grasp onto your wrist as it unfolds your hand towards the phantom of your wish, “What happened to that light that brought you to me?”

His presence, annoyingly, is as engulfing as it was the first moment you had the misfortune of meeting his acquaintance. A dwindling candle in a shadowed room, its flicker is too miniscule in comparison to the tenebrous monstrosity extending its talons towards the candle's light.

Contempt is the sole benefactor that keeps it alight, burning for a moment longer. A fruitless effort — rebelling is nothing more than running closer and closer to the dead end.

“It got snuffed out.” you tilt your head towards his pointed stare, in time to bear witness to the contractions of emotions vacillating in his eyes — building up up up before bursting forth in a supernova of laughter. Your feet nearly tangle amongst themselves as you try to move away from the disturbing sight, attempt thwarted by his insistent hand.

Reca's crackles slighter to a burdened sigh, ruby eyes peek from between the crevices of the fingers of his free hand, “And, you allowed it.”

It should be incriminating for a sentence that calm to fizzle your nerves that quickly, “Non.. nonsense! It was you who clearly—”

Your heart jumps as the axis of your vision goes askance, red bleeds and paints the corners of your mind. “I did what?” the sting of his nails sinking into the flesh of your cheeks wakes you, “Come on, you can do it, love. Think. What did I do to you, clearly?”

“You... you made me into who I am today and, I can never even think of standing in front of the camera without your direction.” you heave.

“Brilliant! Just like this! If you continue performing this well, it won't be long before we can step up from these boring scenes and move onto shooting the truly heart-touching moments.” it is debatable whether your legs surrendered on their own or were forced to as the Memokeeper catches you, dragging along your limp form towards his vision.

“And when every scene has been shot, organized and edited to perfection, I'll keep it secure from everyone's grabby hands — for, this film is to be viewed by us alone.”

Hatred is the frailty of the weak, their last act of defiance before they embrace destruction. In Reca's hands, it is nothing more than a misdirection to achieve the most perfect shot, malleable to his whimsies.

PERSEPHONE — ryomen sukuna x female reader

summary: ryomen sukuna, ruthless tycoon of the alcohol industry, is used to crushing rivals. but when his former meek secretary walks into his office as his newest competitor, he’s blindsided. you’ve transformed into a powerful force, ready to go head-to-head in a high-stakes battle for dominance. as tension rises between you — both in business and something far more dangerous — sukuna realizes this fight might cost him more than just his empire.

content warnings & tags: enemies to lovers, modern au, business tycoon sukuna, mentions of depression and alcoholism, angst, slow-burn, mentions of other jujutsu kaisen characters (suguru geto, choso kamo, yuuji itadori) - this takes place in the same universe as my upcoming salaryman!choso fanfic

word count: 6,203 words

notes: and the award of best liar goes to.....in my defense i needed a break from all the smut writing, so please! please, enjoy the first official chapter of an impulse project. there will be multiple parts to it, so worry not! and please, grill me in the comments. get as critical as you can get, i need the advice. thank you for reading!

"you’re fuckin’ shit at your job! pathetic, you hear? if i see you here ever again, god so help me, you’ll never find another job again."

those words still echoed in your mind. sukuna's sneer, the disgust that dripped off every syllable. that day, three years ago, you were swiftly replaced, just another disposable pawn in his empire. it wasn’t that you lacked skills. in fact, you were precise, efficient — everything a good secretary should be. but no one could keep up with him. sukuna’s fiery temper was like a storm you never saw coming. always brewing, always on the verge of eruption. the minute you faltered, even slightly, he was there, leaning over your desk, barking down at you like you were nothing.

the flashbacks always left a sour taste in your mouth, but you weren’t the same cowering woman anymore. back then, the memory of his cruel words had left you teary-eyed in the restroom stalls, wiping away mascara smudges and biting back sobs. but after you left, you swore you’d prove him wrong. you refused to be just another forgotten casualty in sukuna’s warpath.

and now, you had your own wine company.

persephone.

sukuna found the name laughable at first, but the numbers? they didn’t lie. your brand was making waves, quickly becoming a sensation in the high-end wine scene. it wasn’t just some trendy label either — it had substance. the quality was undeniable, and the industry was taking note. especially his industry.

“fuckin’ ‘persephone,’ huh?” sukuna muttered under his breath, leaning back in his sleek office chair. he was alone, fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest, his expression unreadable. “she’s really givin’ me a run for my money now.” he chuckled, but it wasn’t from amusement. it was that low, dangerous sound he made when something — or someone — was starting to piss him off.

he was the king of the alcohol game, dammit. ryomen had become a powerhouse in just four years, dominating the market with everything from vodka to rum, sake to whiskey. his brand wasn’t just a name; it was a status symbol. people flaunted his bottles like designer bags. you had ryomen on your bar? you were in a different league.

but lately, his sales were dipping in a very specific category. wine. your wine.

“you’re tellin’ me,” he grumbled, looking at the sales report, “that some chick i fired is takin’ a bite outta my profits? unbelievable.”

his current secretary, a polished woman with the demeanor of a robot, stood nearby, silent. she knew better than to interject when sukuna was simmering like this.

“it’s just wine, boss. nothing we can’t —”

“shut the fuck up,” he snapped, cutting her off. “i’ll tell you when it’s ‘nothing.’ right now, it’s a goddamn problem.”

his thoughts raced. part of him hated the fact that you were even on his radar again. you, the same woman who used to flinch when he raised his voice, the one who could barely get out an apology without her hands trembling. he could still remember how you’d stammer through excuses when he’d tear into you for something as simple as a typo in an email.

“god, she was useless,” he muttered to himself, leaning forward and running a hand through his pink hair. but then, a frown crept across his face. useless… or just unlucky enough to work under him?

he shook his head. no, he wasn’t going down that road. feelings, regret, all that emotional bullshit — none of it mattered. it only got in the way of the goal. sukuna was focused, driven, and nothing could pull him off track.

except maybe you.

he hadn’t dwelled on it much back then, too busy building his empire. but now, here you were, with your fancy brand and your goddamn ‘persephone’ label, threatening the wine segment he’d dominated for years.

“she must think she’s somethin’ special,” sukuna muttered under his breath, a smirk playing on his lips. “bet she’s struttin’ around now, huh? all high and mighty.”

he could imagine it — you, standing in front of a boardroom, confident, assured, looking down on everyone the way you probably thought he’d done to you. but that wasn’t going to last.

he rose from his chair, walking over to the window of his penthouse office that overlooked the city skyline. night was starting to fall, and the lights of the city below twinkled like stars.

“well, brat,” he said quietly to himself, voice low and dangerous, “you better enjoy it while it lasts. ‘cause when i’m done with you, you’ll wish i never fired you in the first place.”

he smirked at his own reflection in the glass. maybe he’d underestimated you back then. maybe he’d been too quick to write you off. but that didn’t change the fact that he was going to crush you now.

and this time, he wouldn’t even need to raise his voice.

saying that you were fucked was the understatement of the century.

the alcohol industry? you picked it on purpose — almost like tempting fate itself. it started innocently enough, with your last paycheck crumpled in your hand, drowning your sorrows in ryomen wine — the same wine you used to grab for sukuna when he’d bark orders at you. you swore you could still hear his voice every time you cracked open a bottle. the sharp aftertaste didn’t help, either. you switched to other brands when your wallet allowed: cloudy bay sauvignon blanc, stags' leap cabernet sauvignon, anything that felt like an escape from his shadow. but your funds ran dry faster than you expected, and soon enough, you found yourself back at your mother’s place, sulking like some NEET loser who couldn't face the real world.

and sukuna? that scumbag was true to his word. not only had he fired you with no remorse, but he made damn sure no one else would touch you with a ten-foot pole. rumors spread fast, and he made sure every single one painted you as the problem. you couldn’t get a job to save your life. so, you hustled. babysitting, tutoring, walking dogs — you did whatever you could just to scrape by. but it was humiliating, feeling like you were clawing at survival while your old boss sat on his throne, sipping his overpriced sake and not giving a second thought to you.

the worst part? you craved a drink. every time you got a little extra cash, you were tempted to blow it on just a bottle of something — anything — to numb the exhaustion. but your mother’s concerned eyes on your gaunt face made you stop. she was already worried enough.

then, one night, as you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone in your cramped childhood bedroom, you stumbled across a buzzfeed article: "how to make your own wine in ten easy steps!"

it was absurd — who the hell makes wine from scratch? but you clicked it anyway. the gears in your brain started turning as you read it over. step by step, you memorized every detail. the next morning, you raided the supermarket like a woman possessed, stuffing your cart with grapes, yeast, and whatever else you could get your hands on. you were going to make your own wine, because if you couldn’t afford it anymore, then screw it — you’d just make the damn thing.

you spent hours in the kitchen, your hands moving frantically, following the recipe to the letter. and somehow, against all odds, the first batch tasted… good. like, really good. your mother, usually uptight about everything you did, even cracked a rare smile when she tasted it.

“this is actually delicious,” she admitted, setting the glass down. “you should bring some to my gardening club next week. the ladies would love this.”

it was a small suggestion, but it lit a fire in you. making those first few test bottles for her friends? it wasn’t just a distraction anymore. it was the first real sense of purpose you’d felt in months. and when they praised it — truly praised it — you realized this wasn’t just a hobby. this was your way out. your way to rewrite the script that sukuna had burned into your life. you weren’t just going to survive. you were going to live.

what you didn’t expect was for your little wine experiment to become such a big hit. 

the ladies from your mom’s gardening club practically lost their minds over your creation. they praised your "natural talent" for winemaking, showering you with compliments and, more importantly, money. they insisted you make more, some even handing over cash in advance just to guarantee their next bottle. you were floored. you could practically hear the sound of money flowing in as you eagerly took order after order, working day and night in your makeshift wine lab — your old side hustles as a barista and a dog poop scooper long forgotten.

now? you were a businesswoman, and damn if you didn’t love saying it. your mom did too. she proudly bragged about you to anyone who would listen. whenever someone asked that tired, familiar question — "what’s your daughter been up to these days?" — your mom would light up, puffing her chest with pride as she told them all about her daughter’s successful wine venture.

time blurred as you threw yourself into your work, orders coming in steadily, and with them, a steady income. it wasn’t long before you had enough to take your mom out for a nice dinner — your treat. the look of pride on her face when the waiter handed you the bill? priceless. you didn’t even feel the pull to drown your sorrows in alcohol anymore. sukuna’s wine? fuck that. the high you got from creating something that people loved, the thrill of turning your passion into profit — that was better than any drink could ever be. but, of course, ambition is a funny thing. once you start getting a taste of success, you start wondering — what if i could get higher?

that’s when suguru geto crash-landed into your life. literally. 

one day, his car broke down in front of your house, a random stroke of luck that led to something unexpected. what started as a quick fix turned into a fast friendship, and in just a week, you went from being casual acquaintances to best friends. turns out, suguru’s aunt was part of your mom’s gardening club, so you two started seeing each other more often, and he quickly became your biggest supporter.

“you know,” he said one afternoon, lounging on your couch, “you should make this a real thing.”

“it is a real thing,” you laughed, raising an eyebrow at him.

“no, i mean like — patent it. sell it in supermarkets. let the whole damn world know about you.”

his words struck a chord in you. you stared at him for a moment, your mind spinning with the possibilities. could you really do that? could you take persephone to the next level?

“i don’t know, sugu,” you murmured, biting your lip. “that’s a lot of pressure. i mean, i’m doing fine as is —”

“fine?” he cut you off, grinning. “you’re thriving. don’t sell yourself short. you’ve got something special here, and you know it.”

his confidence in you was almost overwhelming. it made you wonder — what if he was right? what if this little wine brand of yours wasn’t just a side gig anymore, but something bigger? something that could rival even the big names like… ryomen.

the thought sent a chill down your spine. sukuna.

no. this was your time. your success. and this time, it was on your terms.

your confidence, once sky-high, was quick to deflate as reality hit you like a brick wall. how the hell were you going to get the money to start? you weren’t exactly rolling in cash, and even with all the orders you had, it wasn’t enough to cover what you needed to expand. you were, in every sense of the word, still a nobody in the business world.

sitting on the couch, your mind raced, spiraling through all the worst-case scenarios. that’s when suguru, ever the calm one, leaned back casually and smirked.

“honey, you forget,” he said, shooting you a knowing look, “my talent is breathing money.”

your eyes widened. “you’re seriously gonna fund this?”

“why not?” he shrugged, the confidence in his voice unwavering. “i know you’re serious about this, and i’d rather bet my money on you than anyone else. plus,” he added with a grin, “this is gonna be fun.”

his belief in you left you speechless, and soon after, your mother chipped in too, offering up what she could. “you’ve got something special here,” she said softly, her eyes shining with pride. “we both believe in you, and you know what you’re doing.”

with their help, you pooled together just enough to get things rolling, investing everything accordingly. you finally gave your company a name — persephone. it felt like a declaration. this wasn’t just a passion project anymore; it was your shot at proving yourself, at rewriting the story that sukuna tried to burn into your life.

you managed to get your first stock sent out to the supermarket you used to work in, thanks to your old manager who, having tasted your wine himself, vouched for it without hesitation. he agreed to stock your goods on a trial basis, just to see how the public would respond. you sent the stock out tentatively, crossing your fingers and hoping against hope that you could sell out, just maybe.

you spent that afternoon waiting for a response, nerves gnawing at you, until exhaustion pulled you into sleep. you weren’t prepared for what you’d wake up to.

when you blinked awake, the first thing you saw was your phone screen flashing — seven missed calls from suguru and three from your manager. panic gripped you as the worst thoughts raced through your mind. what if something went wrong? what if people got sick from your wine? what if —

you quickly dialed suguru back, your heart hammering in your chest.

“y/n!” his voice came through, excited, breathless. “you’re not gonna believe this. your entire stock? sold out in four hours. people are demanding for more! even the other supermarkets are calling in, asking for you!”

you blinked, the words not fully sinking in. sold out? your whole stock? your mind spun as you processed what he was saying. a rush of disbelief and euphoria flooded your senses all at once.

“i — what? are you serious?”

“dead serious,” suguru chuckled. “this is just the beginning, y/n. your life’s about to change, and fast.”

and in that moment, you knew — this wasn’t just a lucky break. this was it. your life was about to change forever, and sukuna? he wasn’t looming over you anymore. you were about to loom over him.

all of this was just one year ago. persephone blew up like dynamite, becoming the “it” drink with gen z practically overnight. people everywhere dubbed it “the hot girl drink,” and it spread like wildfire on social media. celebs, influencers, and even rappers were endorsing it — rihanna, beyonce, hell, even international actors from countries you never thought would give you the time of day. your pet project had turned into a full-blown empire, something you never even dreamed of. the insane part? it wasn’t just a fad — it was here to stay. persephone was the new, unbeatable champion of the wine industry, holding the number one spot for the entire year. nothing — and no one — could touch you.

market experts were scrambling to crack the secret behind your success. every business magazine, blog, and analyst was pouring over the data, trying to figure out how the hell a tiny, unknown brand could rise to the top so quickly. when forbes asked you to explain it, your response had been simple:

"all you need is a little bit of love in the mix. that's why everyone loves us."

love? bullshit.

sukuna scoffed, slamming the magazine down on his desk as he glared at your interview in the newest issue of forbes. his eyes burned with frustration as he scanned the glossy page, your face plastered on the front cover — forbes, of all things. he remembered when he was the one on the cover. and now it was you, alongside some other guy, suguru geto, your so-called "business partner." his hands fisted the edges of the magazine as he forced himself to read through the article, bile rising in his throat.

"fuckin’ love," sukuna muttered under his breath. "what a load of crap."

what really pissed him off wasn't the fact that ryomen wines had dropped to number two in the market. no, they were still crushing it in vodka, rum, and sake — dominating, even. sukuna still smugly held onto that victory, and in truth, ryomen's other sectors were thriving. but it wasn’t about the numbers.

it was about you.

you, of all people, had stolen his top spot. the quiet, cowering secretary he’d dismissed without a second thought had somehow clawed her way up to rival him. beat him. and that, more than anything else, was what grated on his nerves. it was like a personal insult, like every bottle of persephone on the shelves was a slap to his face.

he didn’t understand it — couldn’t wrap his head around how you, someone he once considered nothing more than a weak, insignificant nuisance, had built something this big. this powerful. it was unthinkable.

but it didn’t matter. because if there was one thing sukuna hated more than losing, it was losing to you.

“get ready,” he muttered, tossing the crumpled magazine into the trash. “this ain’t over.”

he wasn’t about to let you bask in your victory for long. oh no, sukuna never did well with defeat, and you were about to learn exactly what that meant.

sukuna’s sundays were always a mixed bag when his brothers came over. on the one hand, he secretly enjoyed not being alone, the house filled with chatter and energy he rarely allowed himself to admit he missed. on the other hand… they had their quirks, quirks he didn’t always have the patience for.

today was no exception.

“oii, nii-chan!! is it true you’re cooked?” yuuji’s loud voice rang through the kitchen as he leaned over the counter, his face full of boyish excitement. at eighteen, fresh out of high school, yuuji was all energy and enthusiasm, completely missing the tension in sukuna’s glare.

“we are not cooked, brat. now scram!” sukuna growled, his patience already wearing thin. it wasn’t that he didn’t like yuuji; he loved the kid in his own harsh way. but today was not the day to bring up the one topic that had been gnawing at him for weeks now — persephone.

yuuji, of course, remained completely oblivious to his brother’s thinly veiled rage. “dude, we need to try it out — for sampling purposes, of course!” he corrected himself quickly when sukuna’s eyes darkened, the older man’s low growl sending a shiver down his spine. choso, standing quietly by the side, let out a silent sigh of exasperation that went unnoticed by both of them. as the eldest brother of the three, choso was used to playing mediator between sukuna and yuuji’s endless energy.

“talking about that cheap wine in front of your brother? seems like choso here isn’t teachin’ ya manners, brat,” sukuna scoffed, throwing a sharp glare at choso. but choso wasn’t fooled by the display — he knew sukuna well enough to recognize the silent plea in that look. sukuna wasn’t just angry; he was frustrated and on edge, and right now he needed choso’s help to avoid losing face in front of their younger brother.

choso, ever the calm and rational one, stepped in smoothly. “sukuna’s right, yuuji. why don’t we try some of his wine instead? ryomen’s pretty coveted, you know. you can even tell your friends you’ve got the inside scoop on the best stuff,” he suggested, his voice soft and persuasive. he knew yuuji’s weak spot — flexing on his friends — and wasn’t above playing that card to steer the conversation away from persephone.

yuuji’s eyes lit up at the mention of flexing to his friends. “yeah, that’d be awesome! ryomen’s, like, top-tier,” he agreed quickly, the previous excitement over persephone fading as he eagerly darted toward sukuna’s personal bar.

“but only a sip!” choso called after him, his tone firm but affectionate. yuuji grinned and gave a thumbs-up, too eager to care about the warning.

as soon as yuuji was out of earshot, sukuna’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though his scowl remained. “thanks,” he muttered under his breath, leaning against the kitchen counter with a scowl that barely concealed his relief.

choso merely nodded, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “you should really tell him what’s bothering you, sukuna. pretending it’s not a problem won’t make it go away.”

sukuna’s jaw clenched at the suggestion. “i’m not pretending anything,” he shot back. “just not giving that cheap wine any more attention than it deserves.”

choso didn’t argue — he knew better than to press sukuna when he was like this. but even as they heard yuuji clattering around in the bar, talking excitedly to himself about the bottles he found, choso couldn’t help but wonder how much longer sukuna could keep up this front before the tension snapped.

soon enough, sukuna bid choso and yuuji goodbye, grunting a half-hearted “good luck” to yuuji for his academics and giving a curt nod to choso. it was their silent agreement to continue taking care of yuuji, a bond forged through the ups and downs of their unconventional family. deep down, sukuna wished his brothers could stay longer, but he knew his work environment would be more chaotic than conducive to yuuji’s growth. the kid needed some normalcy, a chance to be a teenager without the weight of sukuna's world pressing down on him.

choso had that normalcy. he had a simple job and quiet life waiting for him back home, something that balanced him out in a way that sukuna hadn’t found in years. as he watched them leave, sukuna couldn’t help but wonder what life could have been like if he hadn’t run off at twenty-seven, leaving his twenty-two-year-old brother to shoulder the burden of raising a thirteen-year-old yuuji all by himself. it felt like a dick move, something no older brother should do. but he’d made up for it in his own way — by rapidly building a name for himself in the alcohol industry, ensuring his brothers were taken care of.

the weight of those thoughts pressed on him as he closed the door behind them. he had sent ample money back to support choso and yuuji, ensuring they lived comfortably and never struggled. yuuji’s education had never been compromised, and sukuna took a twisted sense of pride in that. everything he did — every deal struck, every bottle sold — was silently for them, though he’d never admit it out loud. they knew, though. they understood the sacrifices he’d made and the lengths he’d go to protect them.

leaning against the closed door, sukuna let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. the house felt empty now, the echoes of yuuji's laughter fading away. but he was used to this emptiness. it was part of the job, part of the life he’d chosen. yet, as he glanced at the bottle of ryomen wine sitting on the counter, the nagging feeling in the back of his mind grew louder. persephone was thriving, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than just a business — it was a challenge, a direct competition that tugged at his pride.

he shook his head, pushing away the thoughts. no need to dwell on that right now. there would be time to strategize, to find a way to reclaim what he’d lost. for now, he had work to do, deals to make, and a reputation to maintain. but the tension lingered, a constant reminder that the game was far from over.

every business professional and their mother had heard of the forbes awards — one of the highest honors in the industry, recognizing outstanding achievements in categories like innovation, leadership, and entrepreneurship. it was a big deal, and of course, sukuna was invited. how could he not be? he was the face of ryomen, and ryomen was synonymous with him. it would have been a moral sin to overlook his presence.

but alongside him, in a stunning twist of fate, you were invited as well. your heart raced with excitement as you entered the grand hall, arm in arm with suguru, who wore his usual calm demeanor. the ambiance was electric, filled with murmurs of anticipation and the soft clinking of glasses. you felt like you were floating, clad in the prettiest gown you’d ever worn, the fabric hugging you in all the right places. your excitement bubbled over as you and suguru chatted animatedly, sharing whispers and laughter about the event.

sukuna sat a few seats ahead of you, his presence commanding attention even before the ceremony began. he glanced back at you and suguru, his brow twitching in annoyance. that bastard, he thought, irritation prickling at his nerves. was he annoyed because you were here, or because you were here with suguru? who the hell does he think he is, cozying up to you like that?

he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus on the stage as the lights dimmed. why the fuck does it matter? sukuna knew he should be above this, above whatever twisted emotions were gnawing at him. but it was hard to shake the feeling that your success was a direct challenge to him. persephone had blown up like a wildfire, and now here you were, practically glowing next to some random man.

the announcer’s voice boomed, echoing through the hall as the first award was presented. sukuna’s mind raced. everyone in this room is waiting to see me win. his heart pounded as he thought about the years of work, the sacrifices he made to build ryomen into what it was. these people need to remember who the real titan in the room is.

he couldn't help but steal glances at you, laughter dancing on your lips as you leaned into suguru’s space, that smile of yours bright enough to rival the stage lights. you think you’re some kind of star now, huh? the thought twisted in his gut. you don’t know what it took to get here.

as winners were announced, the crowd erupted in applause, and sukuna forced himself to smile politely, though inside he was a storm. you’ll never be more than a little brat who got lucky, he told himself. and yet, here you are, basking in the glory that should have been mine.

with every name called, the tension in sukuna grew. he could feel the eyes of the room shifting between him and you. they’re waiting to see what i do next, he mused, resentment and determination colliding within him. they think this is the peak. they have no idea what’s coming.

the night was still young, and the real competition was just beginning.

“and this year’s forbes most innovative company award goes to — y/n l/n & suguru geto for persephone!”

you sat there dumbfounded, too shocked to move, even as cheers erupted around you, your name being called echoing in your mind like a beautiful melody. suguru was beside you, his excitement contagious as he urged you on, “y/n, we won! go on, what are you waiting for?”

you won. you really won. the gravity of it settled in, and you felt a rush of emotions. you hoped your mother was tuned in tonight — oh, who were you kidding? your mother and every other mother in the room had tuned in, probably with their phones in hand, eagerly documenting the night. your mom's hourly reminders of “forbes award show tonight, my daughter is winning” played in your mind like a comforting mantra.

it took all your physical strength to push yourself up from your seat, legs trembling as you shakily walked toward the stage. the camera panned in on your nervous expression, capturing the moment for the world to see. when the award was handed to you, a giddy laugh escaped your lips, a blend of disbelief and joy.

“i — i don’t even know where to begin. i’m just… i’m just someone who started out in her mother’s kitchen.” the crowd chuckled, and you caught a glimpse of suguru, his face radiating pride. “and here i am, getting an award from forbes.” the room erupted into cheers, and you could feel the warmth of their applause wrapping around you.

“i….i made it, mom! i really did, i—” your eyes inadvertently wandered, locking onto sukuna, who was seated a few rows ahead. his expression was thunderous, livid anger practically radiating off him, his tattoos appearing to shift in the dim light as he stared you down. if looks could kill, you were certain you’d disintegrate on the spot.

for a fleeting moment, you felt like that meek little secretary from years ago — the girl who cowered at his angry words, whose confidence had crumbled under his disdain. your breath caught in your throat, palms clammy around the award that suddenly felt like a shackle, the blaring stage lights pressing down on you.

“t-thank you,” you mumbled quickly, and with that, you rushed off the stage, confusion buzzing in the air as people murmured about your abrupt exit. suguru’s brows furrowed with concern as you settled back into your seat beside him.

“hey, what’s wrong? talk to me,” he whispered, his hand finding yours beneath the table, offering a comforting squeeze.

“i saw him,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, the reality of your win overshadowed by the weight of sukuna’s gaze.

the moment hung in the air between you, an electric tension that made your heart race. you had won tonight, yet the thrill felt tainted, as if sukuna’s presence had darkened your moment. suguru's grip tightened, grounding you, but the storm brewing inside you was harder to quell. this victory should have felt like a celebration, but instead, it brought the ghosts of your past crashing back, threatening to overshadow everything you had worked so hard for.

you should be counting your lucky stars that you exited the stage as soon as possible because if you had stood there for even one more minute, holding the award and basking in the stage lights, sukuna would have popped a blood vessel.

how could you — of all people — have won the award? it felt like a cruel joke, a slap in the face to all the hard work ryomen had poured into every drink they crafted. sugary excuse of a wine — that’s what he thought of your creation. it didn’t matter that you had poured your heart into persephone; to him, it was a mere distraction, a gimmick that somehow managed to catch fire while he’d been left to stoke the flames of a legacy he had built with his own hands.

sukuna’s jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he tried to reign in the rage bubbling beneath the surface. what the hell did you do to deserve this? it wasn’t fair. i revolutionized the industry, he thought bitterly, a storm brewing in his chest. i put everything into ryomen, and yet here you are, stealing the spotlight with your little pet project.

he couldn’t even pay attention to the next awards being given out; they were just a backdrop to the humiliation he felt. this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. he scanned the room, trying to gauge the reactions of others. do they think this is a joke? he wanted to scream, to lash out at anyone who dared to think persephone was on his level. the mere thought of you being lauded for your success twisted in his gut like a knife.

you didn’t know the sacrifices it took to build an empire, he raged inwardly. you didn’t endure the sleepless nights, the harsh decisions, the pressure of making a brand that people could depend on. to sukuna, ryomen wasn’t just a company; it was an extension of himself, a representation of all he had sacrificed for his brothers, for his future. and now, you had waltzed in and claimed an accolade that felt undeserved.

every cheer from the crowd felt like a taunt, a reminder of how far you had come and how deeply he loathed that it was you who had taken this honor away from him. you’ll never be more than a flash in the pan, he promised himself, a mantra to ease the burning rage. i’ll make sure of that.

his mind raced, plotting and scheming as he gripped the armrest of his chair, knuckles white. i need to show them who the real titan is. he had to reclaim his dominance, to put you in your place. it didn’t matter how many influencers endorsed you or how popular your product became; this was just the beginning, and he would not be overshadowed by someone he once considered insignificant.

as you settled back into your seat, a shaky smile still lighting up your face, sukuna's gaze hardened. this isn’t over, he vowed silently, his heart pounding with a mix of anger and resolve. you may have won tonight, but I’ll be damned if i let you steal my thunder.

days had passed since the forbes award show, but the victory felt hollow for sukuna. sure, he walked out with an armful of awards: the stevie awards, recognizing achievements in management and customer service; the international business awards, celebrating excellence in global innovation and leadership; and the business excellence awards, which honored outstanding performance across the board. it was a haul that solidified his status as a titan in the industry. but even with all that, his mind was consumed by the nagging echo of your name.

how the hell did you manage to steal that one award? it nagged at him like a splinter, refusing to be ignored. it didn’t make sense. even though your win seemed like a mere trinket compared to his accolades, it felt like a theft — a theft of something more precious than gold.

wasn’t it enough that i built this empire from the ground up? he thought, frustration simmering just below the surface. i sacrificed everything to get here, and you — of all people — come in and claim a piece of the pie? it infuriated him to think of you standing on that stage, giggling with disbelief, so carefree and unburdened by the weight of the industry that he had shouldered for years. i’ve earned this!

flashbacks from the award show rolled through his mind like a montage — standing on stage, the lights shining down on him as he accepted award after award. the applause ringing in his ears, the pride swelling in his chest as he shook hands with industry leaders, the kind of recognition that validated every sacrifice he had made.

“congratulations, sukuna,” one executive had said, clapping him on the back. “you’ve really outdone yourself this year.”

“what can i say?” he had replied with a smirk, “i’m just that good.”

yet, while those moments should have felt triumphant, all he could think about was you. that fleeting moment when you stood up there — why couldn’t he shake the image of your smile, your shocked expression? it stirred something within him, an unsettling mix of envy and anger.

you didn’t earn it, he seethed inwardly. you didn’t work your way through sleepless nights or the pressure of making decisions that could sink a company. you just made a drink and got lucky with some influencers.

he wanted to dismiss your success as a fluke, but something about it gnawed at him. why does it bother me so much? he questioned himself, feeling a surge of confusion mixed with annoyance. you weren’t a threat, you were an annoyance, a temporary blip in the industry. yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were becoming something more — something significant.

the thought of you overshadowing his hard-earned victories was infuriating. i won’t let you steal my thunder, he promised himself, his resolve hardening with every passing day. he could not let the narrative shift. this isn’t over; i’ll make sure everyone knows that ryomen is the name that matters, not your little hobby.

but as the days turned into weeks, sukuna found it increasingly difficult to focus solely on his empire. every time he turned on the news or scrolled through social media, your name surfaced, wrapped in praise and admiration, while he was left wondering how you had somehow infiltrated his thoughts, stirring up feelings he had long buried. it’s just a phase, he told himself, clenching his jaw. i’ll crush this little competition of yours. soon, no one will even remember your name.

but deep down, a flicker of doubt loomed. what if they do?

THERE IS A PART TWO COMING !!! COMMENT 2 BE ON THE TAGLIST <3 produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡ banners by cafekitsune