Yandere Jjk X Reader - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

King of Infinity.

Yan (Villain) Gojo x F Reader. 

Synopsis: You don’t get the starring role. You’re partially happy about it; because you don’t have to break a leg.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships/kidnapping(?), descriptions of genocide, descriptions of corpses, manipulation, Stockholm Syndrome(ish), and degrading language against the reader.

Word Count: 1.1k.

can technically be considered a roleswap AU but up to you as geto isn’t talked about rcfncodnorjr…

*~*~*~*

“I never considered you someone who would be fond of apartments.” Satoru pushes his sunglasses up with his pointer finger as he wraps an arm around your trembling shoulders.

The same hand that holds you so very tenderly in the eyes of his followers is the same hand that turns on the lighter to envelop his cigarette in a small flame – a flame you had learned long ago to not attempt to put out, lest you would like it seared into your palm like the tattoo he forced on your neck.

‘The Star.’

“It’s a good strategy though,” Those words are the closest thing to a praise you have heard in months. They are akin to Satan reflecting on his reign of hell and comparing, considering whether or not it would be better to serve in heaven. But then he would laugh as his servants danced, not wanting any angel or God to take such bliss away from him.

Satoru had you dressed in what he considered to be the highest quality fabrics monkeys can make, while he had attire made from the sorcerers he had wrapped around his finger. Yours were not suitable for Tokyo’s snowstorms and his clothing covered up more skin than he would ever let you cover – because you aren’t him, the one he loves the most more than anything else in this beautiful world; Gojo Satoru, the special grade sorcerer that killed more than thirty thousand people in a single hour outside Jujutsu High and was never punished after that fateful evening.

You still remember that night. It is etched into your memory like a child had drawn it on a white wall. Despite everything, you will not ever be able to erase it. You will grow old and never dream of anything but him, the center of your now small universe, the only flower that is allowed to bloom under the eternal blood moon. Everything else will rot – even the earth’s shadow will not remain once Satoru’s dreams are realized. His will is all that matters now, he is the priest of the god of destruction and you are so very far below him. 

A monkey. That is where you will stay and continue to be after you rot and he steps on the soil placed on top of you so you cannot breathe or scream. Only gratitude can fall from your disgusting lips because Gojo Satoru’s only fuel is the groveling of every living creature that makes up the infinite number of galaxies. He will gladly replace your tongue with the worms who decompose you if you have more to say than that. After a while, he’ll comfort you and say that it doesn’t get too bad underneath because that is your one true purpose in life; to not speak and only do.

“You didn’t cry too much this time,” The ends of Satoru’s mouth move upwards, having the freedom to do as they please because his lips aren’t sewn shut. Yours on the other hand can hardly get something that tastes pleasant. “That’s an improvement, wouldn’t you say? I’ll be sure to get you some mochi after this mission, pet.”

You’re not sure if he is talking about the car ride here or the corpses strewn across the floor – occupants of this apartment and a poor security guard that just so happened to be in the general vicinity and heard flesh being torn apart like paper.

There are glimmers coming from the knife block in the kitchen area, the sunlight hitting them just right to make them glow a silvery hue. But the idea dies as soon as you feel its warmth – almost nonexistent because of the burning cold – and slink back into the shadows where you belong, where you are meant to be.

“I never took you to be one for planning. Usually, it is Nanami who does that.” 

A puff of smoke comes out, but you can still see his glowing eyes. You can always see them no matter what you do, even if you close your own, so you decide to imagine them as a different color; something less bright and more normal, something like black or brown. Sometimes you get away with it, and other times he somehow knows.

“I don’t mind it though.”

From across the street, you see the clocktower that stands at the gate of the nearest train station… or bus stop. You don’t care enough to remember which it was. Most likely the former though – you highly doubt any mere bus station would have a clock that large when said buses only hold less than fifty people.

“Will you miss me?” The tone in his voice is teasing, you think because his lighter isn’t on his lap or in his hand – it is on the little coffee table beside the sofa you two are sitting on. But you must still behave according to Satoru’s design because the placement of the flames can easily change. The comfort is cold, but it is better than a scorching hot truth.

“Yes.” 

The real reason you had chosen an apartment and not some corporate office that was under the thumb of the Star Religious Group was because you wanted to be somewhere that was halfway normal. It’s selfish, you know that. But the floors are aged and not polished daily, the air smells different and the heating is at its lowest setting because the owners wanted to save a bit of money. It was oh so very selfish of you. But when you are forced to be the companion of Gojo Satoru, someone who is every definition of the word, you have to combat it in a way that won’t leave your skin black and blue.

“It’s almost eleven,” Satoru groans, stretching his arms up to the ceiling. Some blood managed to get up there along with a bit of a leather shoe, probably the husband’s. You two ignore it for different reasons that are just as strong as the other. “Be good.”

When he reaches towards the table, you think he is reaching for his lighter. But with a slight detour of his hand, he opens his wallet instead. A few thousand yen is handed to you when your eyes are closed, your mind prepared for another fight or flight response. All you get is another poke of your cheek.

“You know where the market is, don’t you? The one I took you after our date last week.” 

You nod. “Would you like mochi, master?”

“No,” Satoru chuckles. “Get me something you like.”

Gojo

Master list

Geto

Master list

Sukuna

Master list

Megumi

Master list

Itadori

Master list

Maki

Master list

Mai

Master list

Break up

God Of The Chisel

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 Female Reader

Warnings : Manipulation. Detail Sex. Rape.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

❛ 見る人 目の ❜

Sculpture. Molding soul into a form, where art meets emotions. That's the definition for (Y/N), the reason of her learning it, the motivation of her creating such art because she can release her emotions through it yet what happens if she has to create the most beautiful sculpture in the entire world, a sculpture who fell for his own sculpturor.

"So, (Y/N) senpai what sculpture are you going to do this time ?" Itadori Yūji asked clearly excited for his senior's new otherworldly addition to arrive.

"I have no idea this time". She answered, a deep sigh slip her lips as her (E/C) eyes continue to stare at the thin poster of competition.

"Why though ? You are a genius in our major or should I say in Cutieeva university". Kugisaki Nobara replied, chewing the thin end of her paintbrush. "Right Megu-chan ?" The said boy, Fushiguro Megumi nod senselessly busy creating his own carving.

"Look, the competition has clearly said the participators has to sculpture the most beautiful creation the world has yet to seen out of their perspective imaginations and the winner would only be who's sculpture is most well loved by the audience not even judges or critics !!" (Y/N) explained re-reading the poster. "If my art didn't seem beautiful enough to normal eyes than it will be pure humiliation ! Not only for me but for other participators too ! Because it indirectly suggest that us all elite students of art isn't yet good enough to be approved by daily to daily audience only capable to approve to the mediocre judges who stuck by rules and that we are worthlessly wasting money". She expressed her further worries.

"Oh ! I didn't knew it was that deep". Yuji glib laughed.

"Shut up !" Nobora nudged the boy seeing (Y/N) dug fingers on her scale as if she desire to rip hair from the roots.

"(Y/N)-san do not worry. Art is a way to release your emotions not for others to ridicule". Getō Suguru smiled, walking into the art studio earning all four student's attention. "No pressure should be felt or else the art won't be as nearly beautiful as it could be if you do it like you did in the past".

"But Suguru sensei I can't stand the humiliation of losing in front of others so bluntly". Shamefully she down her head.

"Then mold it". (Y/N) tilted her head.

"What do you mean ?" Geto smiled wider.

"Mold your frustration, anger, disappointed, fear on the clay. Use your vivid imagination of horrors and your version of beauty on the sculpture. Use this gift of sculpting to release your emotions so you can at least create something because without creating how can you refine it in the first place ?" The art teacher thoroughly described his most talented student who nod feeling a bit light yet uncertain.

"Also those monkeys are called monkeys for a reason if they don't understand your brilliant art". He added causing Yuji to chuckle.

"They are humans as you, sensei". Megumi mutter loud enough for each to hear.

"Also Fushiguro-San not forget I will be there to inspect your sculpture".

"I know".

"I am reminding it. Just in case". Geto merely smiled at the black head boy glaring at him making other three laugh.

"Ha ! Thank you Suguru sensei and megumi-Chan ! I will do my best". She raised her closed fist in the air.

"Thank us too !" Yuji yelled.

"Thank you Yuji-chan and nobara-chan too". She added giggling at their childish antics finding a new spirit to work with even though in the back of her mind she wonder what will be the result of her emotions molding the clay will be.

In a quiet, isolated white room (Y/N)'s fingers wrapped around the cool, damp clay, she felt an surge of creative energy coursing through her veins. With unwavering focus, she closed her eyes, surrendering to the depths of her imagination. In the darkness, a vision began to take shape— the most breathtakingly beautiful form her mind could conjure. With each gentle touch, the clay yielded to her will, as if alive and responding to her every thought. Her hands moved deftly, sculpting the body, hands, arms, and every delicate detail, just as she envisioned. Time stood still as she became one with the creative process, lost in the pool of her imagination.

Hours passed, or perhaps only moments – (Y/N) was oblivious to the world around her. Her entire being was consumed by the artistic expression unfolding beneath her fingers. Finally, she opened her eyes, and her gaze fell upon the emerging masterpiece. Almost half of the body had taken form, and she gasped in wonder, grasping the clay as if to ensure it was real. A soft smile spread across her face as she realized that whatever she was creating was going to be breathtakingly beautiful – a true reflection of the vision that had possessed her. The clay seemed to pulse with a life of its own, as if infused with the essence of her imagination. (Y/N)'s heart swelled with excitement, knowing that she was crafting something extraordinary, a testament to the transformative power of art.

As the day succumbed to the allure of twilight, (Y/N) remained entranced, her fingers moving with a life of their own. The setting sun cast a warm orange glow upon her workspace, but she didn't notice. The stars began to twinkle like diamonds in the night sky, and the moon rose high, bathing the world in a soft, ethereal light. Yet, she continued to create, oblivious to the passage of time. Hours melted away, and the night deepened, however (Y/N)'s focus never wavered. Her body seemed to forget its needs – hunger, fatigue, and thirst became distant memories. Her sole purpose was to bring forth the masterpiece unfolding before her. The clay appeared to respond to her every touch, as if a divine force had taken residence within her.

With each delicate stroke, the sculpture evolved, gaining refinement and nuance. (Y/N)'s hands moved with a precision that bordered on reverence, as if she were channeling the essence of the divine. The air around her seemed to vibrate with creative energy, and the clay itself appeared to pulse with an otherworldly life. In this state of flow, (Y/N) became one with her art, transcending mortality. Her soul merged with the sculpture, infusing it with a spark of the divine. The boundaries between creator and creation blurred, and she became the deity, shaping the clay with an omnipotent touch. Time lost all meaning as she worked tirelessly, sleepless and unrelenting, driven by an insatiable passion to bring forth perfection.

As the next day dawned, her fingers moved with a newfound sense of purpose, her fingers deftly shaping the final details of her masterpiece. The sculpture stood before her, a magnificent form born from her unwavering dedication. Yet, one crucial element remained— the face, the window to the soul, where expression and emotion would breathe life into her creation. Thus, she was about to move to add details when the sun's warm, golden light danced across her art, her (E/C) eyes gaze locked onto her creation, and she felt the weight of reality settle upon her. The world around her snapped into focus, and she beheld her masterpiece in awe.

Transfixed, she reached out a trembling hand to touch the sculpture, as if to ensure it was truly real. However her body finally acknowledged its limits, her legs buckled, and she sank to the ground, exhausted. A soft cry escaped her lips as she left a voice message "Nobara... food... water..." she whispered, voice barely audible.

Despite her physical collapse, an overwhelming sense of joy and pride swelled within her chest, threatening to burst forth. Tears of happiness pricked at the corners of her eyes as she gazed upon her creation, now radiant in the warm sunlight. The sculpture seemed to pulse with a life of its own, as if infused with the essence of her being. (Y/N)'s heart overflowed with a sense of accomplishment, knowing she had poured her very soul into this masterpiece that is yet to be finished.

Moments later Nobara approached Y/N with a gentle smile, carrying a tray laden with food and water, the aroma of nourishment wafted through the air, enticing Y/N's senses. Nobara's eyes sparkled with warmth as she helped Y/N sit up, cradling her head as she offered a refreshing sip of water.

Meanwhile, Yuji's excitement burst forth like a pent-up torrent, his words tumbling out in an effusive stream: "Wow, (Y/N) senpai this is... this is... incredible! The detail, the emotion, the sheer beauty of it! It's like nothing I've ever seen before!" His gaze darted between his senior and the sculpture, his eyes aglow with wonder.

Geto, beaming with pride, nodded his head in approval, his smile stretching from ear to ear. "(Y/N)-san, my student, you have truly outdone yourself. I've never seen such imagination, such skill, such... life breathed into a creation. You've surpassed even my expectations!"

Megumi, usually a silent observer, stood transfixed, his dark blue eyes fixed upon the sculpture as if mesmerized. His gaze seemed to hold a deep reverence, as if the artwork had awakened a part of him long dormant. For once, his quiet nature was not a result of reserve, but rather, utter captivation.

(Y/N) sipped the water and nibbled on the food, her strength slowly returning, she smiled weakly, basking in the praise and admiration of her friends and teacher. The warmth of their words enveloped her, filling her with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

"I know. This year's grand prize will also be rewarded to our university, won by none other than you, (Y/N) !" Geto's eyes shone with warm and paternal pride. His smile radiated deep satisfaction like his heart had been poured into the sculpture. Unspoken awe. Golden pride.

(Y/N) blush from all the showers of compliment yet she remained a little doubtful as the expression of the face is yet to be crafted dwelling whether the window of the model's will ruin her almost masterpiece.

"Hopefully I can create his expression. I still do not know how or what to shape his expression, hair". Nobora chuckle, sitting near her.

"Do not worry ! We all believe in you. Do your best !" She raised her fist in the air, trying to cheer her friend which she succeed because (Y/N)'s tension dissolved, chewing the food.

"But ! Do not forget to take food because forget award you can't even move your hands if this is how it goes on". Megumi calmly advised.

"Right ! (Y/N) senpai ! Please rest your body". Yuji cheerfully agreed, still captivated by the art with his eyes.

"Thank you. I will". And she did heed to their advise taking full three hours break while laying on her bed with jumble of confusion, thoughts tangled in a web of uncertainty inside her mind. She stared blankly at the clay, her fingers poised in mid-air, as if waiting for the familiar spark of inspiration to strike.

However it didn't come.

For the first time, her natural gift seemed to be faltering. She felt like a novice again, fumbling in the dark, unsure of how to mold his expression. The ease with which she usually shaped clay into breathtaking works of art had deserted her. Her eyes, once closed in confident intuition, now snapped open in frustration. Reaching for a sketchbook, (Y/N) began to scribble down ideas, trying to coax her elusive creativity back to the surface. The pencil scratched across the paper, a staccato rhythm that echoed her racing thoughts. She was forced to confront the possibility that her imagination, once a boundless ocean, might have limits after all.

This unfamiliar struggle was like reminiscing her beginning stage again, rediscovering the basics of her craft. The discomfort was palpable, like trying to relearn a forgotten language. Fingers moved hesitantly, as if seeking permission to create, her mind clouded by self-doubt. The sketchbook became a lifeline, a tangible connection to her artistic voice, which seemed to be whispering in a language she could no longer understand.

"I think I should sleep". Trying for hours with no avails she shut her notebook harshly, closing her eyes to drift into the land of dream in hopes of re-freshing her mind and back to her usual gifted self.

(Y/N) unusually found herself standing in a familiar sun-drenched studio, surrounded by half-finished sculptures and scattered tools. Her late mother stood before a work-in-progress, chisel in hand and for odd reasons she approached, curiosity etched on her face, and asked "Mother, what are you doing?"

"I am creating a sculpture, sweet one. I'm bringing this clay to life." A smile curve upon her frown look

(Y/N)'s gaze wandered to a nearby model, posed with elegance, yet lacking an upper torso. "Mother, why is she like that?" she asked, her voice tinged with innocence.

"Oh, my child, I couldn't complete her". Her mother burst into laughter

"Then will it always be like this?" Her younger self tilted her head.

Her mother's expression turned gentle, "No, my dear. Creating art means being patient. When I feel stuck, I pause, enjoy life, and give time for creativity to return to me. It's like a river, flowing and ebbing. I must learn to wait for the tide to come back."

And suddenly the image turn distant and faded into burl letting (Y/N) open her eyes with tears gliding her sides and reality welcome her, a world without her mother.

The memory of her mother's words lingering like a whispered secret with other bitter memories of her coffin flood too spreading a bittersweet taste on her lips. "Mother you never left me. Did you ?" Smiling to her herself she understood the truth : patience was the key. She needed to wait, to let her imagination recharge, and trust that the muse would return to her when the time was right rather than forcing the art to flow.

From the moment on she let go the weight that had been pressing upon her by abandoning the almost-finished sculpture, leaving it to stand silently, a testament to her temporary surrender.

With a newfound sense of freedom, she wandered into the garden, her fingers trailing across the soft petals of blooming flowers. The gentle rustle of leaves and sweet songs of birds enveloped her, calming her mind. Next, she found herself lounging on her bed, surrounded by pillows, lost in the world of games on her console. The vibrant colors and soothing music transported her to a realm where worries didn't exist.

As the day wore on, (Y/N) continued to indulge in the joy of doing nothing. She lazily flipped through the pages of a book, savoring the feel of the paper between her fingers. The words blurred together, but she didn't care – she was too busy basking in the serenity of the moment. Time lost all meaning as she drifted from one leisurely activity to the next. The competition, the sculpture, and her doubts all faded into the background, replaced by a sense of tranquility and release.

Until the creativity flowed back to her motivating her emotions to meet her clay giving birth to the sculpture's expression she always think is the true definition. With renewed inspiration, (Y/N) approached her sculpture, her hands moving with deliberate purpose. She carefully crafted the expression, etching a window to the soul onto the cold, clay body. The eyes, once blank, now sparkled with a deep, inner light, as if the very essence of life had been breathed into them.

The subtle curve of his lips, the gentle tilt of the head, all conspired to reveal the depths of the subject's being. The clay, once mere material, had transformed into a vessel for the human experience and the sculptor stepped back, her gaze swept across the masterpiece, drinking in the nuances of her creation. The world, with all its complexities and emotions, seemed to emanate from this single, silent form.

With a final, gentle touch, she completed the sculpture, infusing it with a sense of vulnerability and strength. The cold body now pulsed with a quiet, inner radiance, as if the very soul of the subject had been laid bare for all to see. In this moment, (Y/N) knew she had created something extraordinary—a window to the human experience, crafted with precision, passion, and patience. The world would soon behold her masterpiece and she was ready to be crowned as the winner of all, surrounded by claps of people.

"But what the name of this model will be ?" Deep in thought she grab her notebook looking at her male utter beautiful sculpture posed in the very same pose she choose before a name pop in her mind and she bestow the name sought to capture the harmony of opposing forces that her sculpture embodied. "Gojo" represented the balance of the five elements or more like five attributes of the human body such as head, body, arm, torse while "Satoru" symbolized the enlightenment and comprehend of his unworldly creation.

"Good". Smiling, she name her creation, granted him an identity, a sense of self that transcended the mere clay and stone even creating a inexplicable connection to herself with the art. "Is this how mother felt granting her pieces names ?" A chuckle escape her lips remembering how the old woman usually call her pieces her children along her own breathing child, (Y/N).

The competition host's voice boomed, "Welcome to the Grand People's Award Choice! Today, you will decide which sculpture reigns supreme!" The crowd murmured in excitement as they began their journey through the exhibition hall.

Sculptures of varying shapes, sizes, and materials dotted the landscape, each one unique and breathtaking in its own right. The host deliberately omitted the artists' names, allowing the art to speak for itself. Amidst the sea of onlookers, the creators themselves blended in, anonymous and eager.

(Y/N) fidgeted, her mind racing with doubts despite her teacher's encouraging words and her friends' reassurances and the crowd flowed around her, something remarkable happened. People would pause, glance at her sculpture, the Gojo Sataru, and then stop dead in their tracks. They couldn't help but be drawn back to the majestic male form, as if an otherworldly deity had been captured in clay.

Whispers spread like wildfire: "This one...this one is something special." Strangers would nod in agreement, their eyes locked on the sculpture's serene face. Even those who attempted to move on to other pieces found themselves inexplicably returning, transfixed by the beauty before them.

As the hours ticked by, a sense of certainty settled over the crowd. It was as if the winner had already been chosen, not by the judges, but by the people themselves. (Y/N)'s anxiety began to dissipate, replaced by a cautious optimism. She crossed her fingers, hoping against hope that the next hours would fly by, bringing the voting to a close and confirming what the crowd had already decided in their hearts.

The countdown clock struck its final moment, and the host's face ignited with a triumphant smile. "The moment of truth has arrived!" he declared, his voice electric with excitement. "The votes are in, and the winner of this Supreme competition will be revealed!"

(Y/N) held her breath, her heart racing like a wild stallion. Her friends offered reassuring pats on the shoulder, but she was too entranced by the host's dramatic pause to notice.

The room hung in suspended animation, the only sound the soft hum of bated breath. And then, a sly smile crept onto the host's lips, like a whispered secret. He parted his lips, and (Y/N)'s heart skipped a beat.

"(L/N) (Y/N) from Cutieeva University... Congratulations! You are the champion!" he announced, his voice thundering through the hall like a victorious fanfare.

Pandemonium erupted as (Y/N) stood frozen, her eyes wide with wonder. Her friends screamed with joy, hugging her tightly as tears of elation streamed down her face. The host approached her, a congratulatory envelope in hand, and (Y/N) felt like she was soaring on the wings of triumph, her dream finally within grasp. She still can't believe out of all the brilliant universities around the globe did her sculpture won, granting her the award. (Y/N) felt like she was living in a dream, where time blurred and moments merged into a kaleidoscope of emotions. One instant, she was standing frozen, her heart racing with excitement; the next, she was beside the host, basking in the glory of her triumph.

The award felt heavy in her hands, a tangible symbol of her achievement. Thunderous applause enveloped her, a deafening roar that threatened to consume her. She opened her mouth to speak the speech, but her words were lost in the chaos, barely audible even to herself.

Before she knew it, she was swept away by a tide of well-wishers —friends, classmates, teachers, and even her principal — all beaming with pride, cheering her as the pride of their school. The celebration was a whirlwind, a colorful blur of laughter, tears, and congratulations.

And then, suddenly, she found herself alone, sitting on her bed, surrounded by the quiet of the night. The moon cast an ethereal glow, illuminating her room with an otherworldly light. She breathed in deeply, the stillness a balm to her frazzled nerves and she gazed out the window, a slow smile spread across her face. It had happened. She had won. The realization dawned on her, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Mother ! I have achieved what I wanted". She said gazing fondly at the frame of her mother, settling the golden award beside it. Everything is perfect and will be. Right ? Because little did she know, this moment of triumph was only the beginning of a dark and twisted journey.

From that moment on, (Y/N)'s sculpture became a global sensation, drawing thousands of tourists to the university gallery. At first, she was ecstatic, basking in the glory of her creation's viral fame. She had won awards before, yet never had her work resonated with so many people worldwide. With pride, she showcased her masterpiece to art enthusiasts, critics, and curious onlookers. She reveled in their admiration, laughing and joking about being a "deity" who had created such a stunning work. However as time passed, a creeping sense of unease began to shadow her joy.

The whispers started innocently enough of

"How handsome he is!"

"I wish he was real!"

"Oh god, why couldn't I meet such a man?"

"Why the god didn't create such wonderful man ?"

"Hopefully he come to life".

"If I could then I would sacrifice my everything to see this man alive".

"Ah ! Why can't he come alive".

Hoever soon, the comments took on a life of their own, echoing in her mind like a mantra. She began to feel like she was losing control, as if her own creation had taken on a persona of its own. The praise, once music to her ears, now felt like a dark omen. She started to wonder if she had unleashed something sinister into the world. The constant attention, the endless scrutiny, and the obsessive admiration began to suffocate her. The deity joke wasn't funny anymore. It felt like a haunting prophecy.

A desolate realm of darkness she could see along the suffocating void that crushed her beneath its oppressive weight. The air was heavy with the stench of malevolent presence, and she sense of eyes upon her, boring into her very soul. In mist of that a voce came, first the voice was a distant whisper, a faint rustling of dry leaves that seemed to carry on the wind however it grew louder, more urgent, until turning a maddening chant that echoed through her mind. A single, raspy voice, repeating a phrase that seemed to draw closer with each iteration, its words indistinguishable but its sinister intent clear.

The voice was a cold breeze on the back of her neck. (Y/N) tried to flee, but her legs were leaden, her body trapped in a living nightmare. And then, the voice whispered a single, chilling phrase, its tone a masterful blend of malice and seduction "Gojo Sataru."

The name exploded in her mind like a firework of terror, shattering the fragile remnants of her sanity. (Y/N) jolted awake, her eyes wide with horror, her lips frozen in a silent scream. Sweat dripped from her brow like blood from a wound, her heart racing with a fear that threatened to consume her whole. For a moment, she lay there, paralyzed with terror, the darkness of her dream still clinging to her like a shroud. Then, she sat up with a gasp, her eyes scanning the room frantically, as if searching for an escape from the terror that still lingered in her mind, waiting to pounce.

"What is going on ?" (Y/N) ask feeling alike an mad woman slowly descending into madness. In fear she didn't closed her eyes for moment, staring blankly at the ceiling or sometimes sketching a new art mindlessly to distract her disturbed mind.

In no time sun made it's presence known, offering bit of warmth to all and each even to (Y/N) who felt comfort to the golden rays before her ringtone took her attention. Answering the phone she greeted. "Good morning, Geto sensei".

"Good morning, (Y/N)-San, but could you please come to the university gallery ?" Hearing this a frown knitted her brows and she check her wrist watch. 5:00 am.

"So early if I may ask ?"

"Actually". He paused as if unsure what to speak "Please it's urgent". Understanding the hastily tone she agreed, doing a brief wash and clothes change she went to the location asked and oh dear, (Y/N) wasn't expecting the overwhelming amount of crowd standing outside her art gallery. Spotting her teacher she stood nearby.

"Sir, what's going on ?" Her (E/C) eyes dart from the crowd to her teacher.

"Well". Sheepishly the teacher tilted his head. "They came to see your sculpture". Earning a loud grasp from her.

"T-They ? You mean all ?" She stutter.

"All". Geto smiled nervously as if he finding his own words strange.

"So early in the morning and so many ?" Geto nod again.

"What in the world..." (Y/N) tailed off unable to comprehend the situation of what's going on, yes, she admits herself this particular art is special, a living masterpiece basically yet the amount of spotlight seems unnecessary, uncomfortable and— her thoughts went back to the nightmare she woke up— and strange.

"So, (Y/N) please guide the people. I have no choice but to let them in, you know". His smile strained and the girl knew there was not much say she has so she nod wordlessly standing in front of the glass door, a wall between the people and her. The glass door slid open with a soft whoosh, unleashing a torrent of humanity into the gallery. Hundreds of people poured in, their faces alight with excitement, smiles, and eagerness. The air was electric with anticipation, a palpable sense of wonder that was almost tangible.

(Y/N) stood at the forefront, a forced smile plastered on her face as she greeted the throngs of visitors. She waved her hand graciously, guiding them towards her sculpture, the centerpiece of the exhibition. Her eyes darted back and forth, her mind racing with a growing sense of unease and she stood before her creation, a strange, unsettling feeling washed over her. She couldn't bring herself to look at her own creation, her gaze skittering away like a frightened animal. The sculpture, once her pride and joy, now seemed to loom over her, its presence oppressive and menacing.

(Y/N)'s smile faltered, her lips trembling ever so slightly. She felt like a puppeteer whose strings had been cut, her control over the situation slipping away. The crowd's excitement and admiration only added to her growing sense of discomfort, their eagerness to behold her creation now feeling like a suffocating weight. With a Herculean effort, (Y/N) raised her eyes, her gaze finally meeting the sculpture's serene, enigmatic face. Rather of pride, she felt a shiver run down her spine, as if she was staring into the abyss itself despite his face turned to the other side.

"Miss (L/N), with what thought you created this masterpiece ?" A young woman asked within the mist of people.

"Masterpiece ?" (Y/N) mutter under her breath tasting a bitterness. "Well, it came naturally". She replied smiling and staring at the woman's eyes.

"Amazing !" One of them compliment.

"Then Miss (L/N), had you thought the model will be this viral ?" A young man this time asked.

"Never". She answered holding her tremble.

"Then, what motivate you to create such man ? Is he a real man or a part of your imagination ?" Another asked who's face (Y/N) unable to see.

"As the rules of competition. All of the participators had to bring their imagination out into the clay so did I". Calm her voice and confident her (E/C) eyes.

"So Miss (L/N) how long did it take to make you ?"

"Miss (L/N) were you always inspired to make someone of it ?"

"Miss (L/N) are you aware of the name we call you ? The deity ?"

"Miss (L/N), any hint of inspiration in process of making him ?"

One after another the questions jumped from one man to another to another that (Y/N) lips didn't had the time to even open eventually the cacophony of voices and laughter merging into a distant, muffled din. The room began to spin, and she felt herself becoming detached, as if floating above the chaos. The excitement and admiration of the crowd now seemed like a distant hum, a buzzing in her ears that threatened to consume her. With a sense of morbid curiosity, (Y/N) dared to glance at her sculpture, the root of all the chaos. Her heart raced and from the tail of her eyes locking onto its serene, enigmatic face.

And then, she saw it. Or thought she saw it. His eyes, once mere clay and stone, seemed to flicker with life. They moved, ever so slightly, as if connecting with hers. The room froze, time standing still as (Y/N)'s heart sank like a stone.

She felt a chill run down her spine, her mind reeling in horror. It was impossible, yet she swore she saw it. The eyes, once lifeless, now seemed to hold a spark of consciousness, a glimmer of awareness that was not of this world.

(Y/N)'s breath caught in her throat, her voice trapped in a silent scream. She stumbled backward, her eyes fixed on the sculpture, her mind racing with the implications. The crowd's din returned, but she didn't hear it. She was lost in the abyss of her own terror, staring into the eyes of her creation, which now seemed to stare back.

"Miss (L/N) ?"

"Miss (L/N) ?"

"(Y/N) senpai ?" Snap ! (Y/N) looked at the familiar call of her best friend Yuji running towards her, holding her hand worried. "Are you alright ?" His voice ringed yet her care is about the sculpture, about the man !

Slowly she turn her head, finger point to his face only to blink twice and find the lifeless eyes as it belonged unlike the glimpse of terror she saw.

Confusion.

Betrayed.

Madness.

Alone.

Did no one saw that ? Did even she saw that ? But it's liveless right ? It's a mold of clay, a non-living thing yet why ? How ? What is going on ? (Y/N) mind spin threatening to burst any moment.

"Yuji, I-I am not okay". Her words stutter and she lean on his strength.

"Understood". Yuji sprang into action, bellowing at the crowd to part and make way unlike (Y/N) who couldn't process the commotion, her mind reeling like a maelstrom. She felt her grip on reality begin to slip, her thoughts spiraling into a vortex of doubt and terror. Was she truly seeing things, or was her own sanity unraveling? The world around her became a blur, as if she was trapped in a never-ending nightmare. Yuji's voice grew distant, a fading echo as (Y/N)'s consciousness teetered on the edge of collapse.

"High blood pressure, high stress level and sleep deprivation". Ieiri Shōko said, with a sigh looking at the chat. "It's a dangerous combination, (Y/N)-san that's why rest your body". Before glaring at her teacher Geto. "And you ! who even gave you the permission to be a teacher huh ? If you can't act like one ?" Her raspy voice and judgmental eyes send daggers in his way.

"I am sorry, (Y/N)-San, I didn't know I was creating pressure for you". Guilty written over his face as he ease his frown.

Megumi commented "Well, you as a teacher should know yourself". Right away avert his gaze to not meet his glare.

"It's alright. My fault. I should have voiced out my problem but I really think I need rest". Indeed (Y/N) felt the need to relax after seeing the movement never will she ever recover the horror her heart felt.

Nothingness. No hint of light, nothing at all. A silent void of nullity only suddenly, two glints of light materialized, like sapphires bursting forth from the shadows. The brightest blue she had ever seen, piercing and vivid, locked onto her. Eyes, hidden until now, stared directly into her soul. A whisper, a murmur, a voice she couldn't decipher, grew in intensity, swelling to a deafening crescendo. The words remained elusive, but the urgency was unmistakable. She strained to comprehend, her heart racing, until the sound shattered the darkness, jolting her awake with a silent scream, as if her own soul was being torn from her throat, leaving her gasping in terror, her breaths coming in ragged, desperate gulps, like a dying thing clawing its way back from the abyss.

"What was that ? I never saw those eyes—" She pause recalling the vivid eyes. "I didn't or did I ?" Oddly enough her mind went to her own sculpture. "His eyes, his lifeless eyes". Repeating the thought in her mind, She threw off the covers and got out of bed, her bare feet making barely a sound on the cold floor.

"It can't be". She hoped. "It shouldn't be, it must not be". Like a protection mantra she chanted it sprinting to the exhibition where her once masterpiece to nightmare stand on and she somehow unlock the door and run to stand in front of her model, Gojo Sataru in the darkness she was begin to spiral and to her denial the moon cast an eerie glow through the window, illuminating the sculpture's face. (Y/N) felt a shiver run down her spine as her (E/C) eyes bore into its eyes and saw nothing. No color, no sparkle, just emptiness like it should be. "Ha ! I knew it. It was another my imagination working too much". With a scoff she breath properly ignoring her intitution of feeling not being alone in this room so she walk away quietly yet quickly escaping from the burning empty eyes of the sculptures.

The night wore on, a sleepless vigil, as her fingers held the pencil scratched across the paper, trying to capture the haunting blue eyes that lingered in her mind. The memory of their piercing gaze refused to fade, fueling her creativity as she sketched into the wee hours. Just as the first light of dawn crept in, her friend arrived, bearing the missed class lessons and a gentle smile.

"Here, I am giving you all you need". Nobara pat her head, able to point out dark circles in her friend's eyes.

"Thank you a lot". Gratitude mingled with exhaustion and her hands accepted the offering, placing it in the wooden desk where her eyes caught the shining golden award she forget to keep somewhere else due to the chaos happening.

"By the way (Y/N) I also wanted you to know today your sculpture would be the model for beginner students to learn how to create the perfect body, arms and you know basics". Her hands move with the notion earning a smile over (Y/N)'s lips.

"Understood". She didn't, she didn't understood the meaning behind seeing the same art so many times anymore. Why can't people move on, go, see some other new, fresh and normal art unlike her strange, hauntingly beautiful one. That's when the curiosity to see the art awaken, for unknown reason she desperately wants to see or perhaps it was the promise of safety in numbers she asked to go along with her.

(Y/N) strolled hand in hand with Nobara towards the exhibition, the warm light danced across her skin, a comforting sensation she savored. "Let's go in". Reached the glass door Nobara said touch the doorhandle and about to open breaking the space between them when her (E/C) eyes dare peek through her lashes to the glass exterior and her her serenity, sanity shattered because for a fleeting instant, the hands of the stone seemed to twitch, fingers trembling, arms stiffening, like a macabre puppet springing to life. The horror of her nightmare resurfaced, threatening to consume her. Madness lurked, its dark tendrils creeping closer.

Averting her gaze, she felt her grip on reality falter once again. With shaking hands and a voice barely above a whisper, she stammered "I am sorry...I suddenly feel sick. I need to rest".

Without awaiting Nobara's response, she turned and fled, leaving the girl worried and tense, her eyes wide with concern as she called out however (Y/N) was already gone, vanished into the crowd, pursued by the demons of her own mind.

"This is happening again. It moved right in front of my eyes, in front of Nabora and others too !" Claps her palm to her mouth she tightly close her eyes, sitting on her bed and without a second thought opened the wooden drawer taking few pills of sleeping pills and drank in rapid speed.

"I need a dreamless sleep, I need a dreamless sleep". Repeating she lay on the cold fabric of bed and close her eyes.

Darkness enveloped her sight, a suffocating shroud that obscured all else And then, like specters emerging from the void, a pair of pale hands materialized before her. They glowed with an ethereal light, as if the darkness itself had taken on a life of its own. The hands, unmistakably male, reached out with an unsettling gentleness, his fingers tracing the contours of her body. (Y/N) felt a shiver run down her spine as the hands caressed her, his touch leaving her skin crawling with unease. She tried to recoil yet the palm tightly held her waist in it's root however she tried to move again that's when a low, velvety voice unfolded like a dark flower, its laughter echoing through the shadows like a predator's taunt along the blue eyes snapped open, blazing with an otherworldly intensity. Those cerulean orbs incinerated her defenses, laying bare her soul like a ravaged landscape despite clothes attached to her body.

"How cute you are trying to run away ?" His sinister voice carried like wind coming from behind to front or from nothing to assume.

Slowly his hands caress her visible neck, lacing with curiosity and desire. Tracing the curve of her side to the front from her chin to pausing at the collarbone unleashing a chill that seeped into her bones. Disgust and fear entwined, a toxic embrace that left her paralyzed, her heart a wild animal racing against her ribs and almost as if he could smell the fear those gleaming eyes smile into crescent moon and frosty fingers unbutton her night shirt one by one swelling tears in her eyes.

"No. Please. No. Please". She preyed to each and every god she knew the existence of, hoping to be saved by the creation she created by her own hands. Spared by the humiliation she might face by the monster and—Snap ! Her eyes jolt open to a world that is too bright, too loud. The screeching alarm pierced her eardrums, a forgotten relic of a previous night's routine. As she struggled to sit up, the harsh light overhead stabbed at her eyes, making her squint and shield her face with a groggy hand.

Tear drops silently land on her lap, soaking the fabric with her sorrows she experienced and unconsciously her hand went to her chest making her breath hitched because the two first buttons of her shirt is separated leaving her to wonder the line between her reality and nightmare erasing. "What is happening ? Why is this happening ?" Fingers dug inside her hair to the roots, only helpless questions is jumbled on her mind with unanswered and those question will remain more unanswered when increasingly she unmistakenly gets glimpse of the model and her blood run cold witnessing the torso seemed to twist, ever so slightly, like a snake slithering through grass and that very same night she is laying on her bed, inside her nothing of dream joined by the pair of hands, alive eyes, cold hard torse crawling above her warmth of skin exporling her body as if she belonged to him, violently the privacy (Y/N) wants to keep and when she teetered on the brink of death. The alarm clock screamed, shattering the spell, saving her at the same time lingering the terror.

The next time she didn't gave the chance her eyes could to see her sculpture anywhere from her phone, to her poster, she even avoiding going out frighten by the fact to see him coming alive however fate speaks otherwise accidentally letting her eyes meet the flicker of the monster named Gojo Sataru and finally along his legs twitched, its entire body began to stir, like a creature awakening from a centuries-long slumber. (Y/N) watched in pure horror, her mind reeling, as the once-inanimate object now moved with a sinister purpose. Feeling her own life force ebbing away, as if the sculpture's newfound vitality was draining her very existence and known echoed in her mind "This is the end. I'm staring death in the face."

Desperate to escape the terror from going to sleep, (Y/N) tried to distract herself. Fingers grabbed her sketchbook, but her pencils trembled in her hand, unable to capture the beauty of art amidst such evil however eyes moved to watched entertainment shows only to feel the laughter and music seemed hollow, a cruel mockery of her fear. Even old videos of her parents, once a source of comfort, now seemed distant, unable to shield her from the encroaching darkness waiting to pounch.

No matter what she did, her eyelids grew heavy, threatening to surrender to sleep despite the knowledge that if she succumbed to sleep, the sculpture would claim her. So she fought, hard and limit past her strength. She'd rather die awake, than let the darkness consume her.

Despite her valiant efforts, (Y/N)'s eyelids finally betrayed her, succumbing to the relentless pull of exhaustion and the last thing she saw was her mother smiling face holding her younger self's hand in the video.

This time when she faced the void of nothingness, she has complex layers of emotions piling one after another. Fear of what might bound to happen, confusion of why or how's this situation is even occurring to her so many times, regret of creating a monster she mistakenly did and little calm of at least knowing what's about to come in front yet she wasn't ready to face the tide like all ship captains are no matter how much they nagivate above the ocean, they fear bear fear and the darkness coalesced, swirling around itself like a vortex of ink, deepening into an abyssal void. It churned and eddied, alike creating a pathway for the entity that lurked beyond the shadows. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with anticipation, as the darkness parted like a curtain, revealing a glimpse of what lay beyond. Slowly, the entity began to take form, its presence unfolding, no longer just fragments of limbs or eyes, but its entire self, a being of unutterable horror, emerged from the shadows. The darkness swirled around it, a mad dance of tendrils, as if worshiping the monstrosity that now stood before (Y/N).

Gojo Saturu, her sculpture moving in flesh and form of an living human. A vision of devastating beauty that the viewers oh so desired. His lips in a perpetual smirk while his sapphire eyes look straight into his creator's soul.

"Hello, my creator". He mockingly greet, voice smooth flowing to (Y/N)'s ears. "Nice to meet ya". He giggle at the end as his own comment was funny. "I was oh so waiting to meet. Took so long". His long legs march forward to (Y/N) who is frozen, breathing hard to have her creation talk to her.

His face lean forward inching almost few inches apart to where her (E/C) could see his unblemished and smooth skin like she curved out of her fingers, well she bestowed him everything but flaw, a mistake on her part and a power to his. Deliberately his slender pale finger tips touch her cheek—her imperfect skin. She fully embraced to shiver by his coldness yet it was oddly warm causing her eyes wide filling questions in them.

He wordlessly smiled further, cupping her entire face on his both palm like one would to their deity. Thumps ever so slightly stroke her skin. "You must be dying to know the truth ? How I created ? Breath to live ?" His eyes flicker to hers. She choose to not say.

"Well, it's cause you, all because of you and those humans. Their hopes, admiration, wishes and your believe of me springing to live manifest into a unseen force, a force of blending your believes turning and fueling my life from mere stones. The moment you believed my eyes moved, my eyes spring into live, you believed my hands twitch it gave me life and slowly little by little you were all along bringing me life. My creator, my love. My eve of life". Stretching his lips ear to ear he close their distance, enveloping her lips.

Astonishing her and letting her limbs finally protest against the unwanted touch yet his hands larger, faster, stronger that held her both wrist in one palm, focusing solely on devouring her lips and wrapping tongue above one another, swirling like the taste of saliva and sucking breath out of her leaving her utterly surrender and vulnerable. (Y/N) suffocated by the soul draining kiss she kicked his any part only for him to remain unyielding and finally when he deem to be satisfied he seprated their lips with a glistening string of saliva linked and heavy breathing followed.

"Is this how it feels to need air ?" A husky laugh bubble out of his throat. "Then it's addicting". The sly smile stayed as he branded her skin with tender kisses, tracing a path of desire. The soft curve of her cheek, the tantalizing corner of her lips, the delicate slope of her chin, the whisper-soft lids of her eyes, and the gentle expanse of her forehead like marking her his.

"Stop. Stop all of this madness. Why are you doing this ? If you want to kill me then kill me already why torture me ?" Desperate her breath brush aganist his skin, fearful written on her eyes.

"Aww, there is a misunderstanding between us love, a grave one". He dramatically chuckle. "Why would I want to kill my own creator when you are the reason I even form an shape ? And torture ? Is this torture when I am soaking you in love. This is my passion for you. My burning desire for you". Yearning his brightest shade of eyes hold and rather of feeling moved all she felt was forced.

"But I do not want". Tears prickly down her eyes, watering her vision. "I really do not want this". She threw her head back, moving as her physical self can.

"It's okay. You do love me because if you don't then you wouldn't have created me so love me. Like you are suppose to. Bear the consequences of your actions, darling". Shushing her lips with his finger, he gently kiss the vulnerable curve of her neck and descend in downwards ignoring all of her pleads, protest and fight. Eventually his lips brush against her collarbone and ever so gently he suck the skin purple and red moving to the valley of her chest.

His free hand cup the breast through her dress ignited an fire and blood rush to his pants. Tearing her shirt scattering her buttons he came to face with her lovely bra, the only shield protecting against being bare yet he with ease snatch that away. Laying her upper body to feast by those eyes.

"Hmm" A groan slip past his lips from merely stare at those breast and the outline of her body with the way her blush expression, tears streaming, hands tied by his palm, hair spread beneath her was a divine sight than himself. Oh how he recall watching her from his stone form and yearn to touch those skin which he is now relishing.

Shamelessly his large palm cup her breast earning a sweet whimper and dive to taste if it's sweet as her lips and he was beyond ecstatic, twisting the bud as he please and sucking whole even biting with his canines enjoying the melody of her sobbing and her warmth skin. Before jumping to the another untouched one claiming his like it belonged and butterflies kisses on the entire breasts.

To lacing his tongue on her center of skin, tailing down and stopping at her stomach pecking each imperfect and perfect spots covering her whole. How couldn't he ? If he was served with a human like her, (Y/N) who is in his eyes the prettiest girl to even laid eyes on.

While she is on other end of hell, despising the kisses like an lava drops, burning with a fiery hatred that left her scarred. Every touch was a toxic assault, poisoning her senses and corroding her soul. His lips were venomous serpents, injecting deadly venom into her veins with each caress. His hands are acid, dripping with malice as they crawled across her skin. She couldn't and didn't felt a loving sense from him let alone love he was confessing about. Nightmare his life is.

And he knew about. Knew perfectly of her hatred, pain and still choose to love her because she does love him. She just doesn't know herself or he will make her. That's why he is mastering the very skill to pleasure her in ways a woman could be by ripping her only thread of cloth wrapped around her hip and fully nude her.

Viewing her lay bare, all nude couldn't conceal the heart crafting on Gojo's eyes and the madness smile heating his pale skin. Swiftly he dug his head in between of her legs, inside the clit his cum will enter. Well, for later because now his mouth was engulfed inside, tongue forcefully rip inside to taste the creamy fluids his love made of making her grasp and thrash around more harder than she could.

Even squirming underneath him only to prove fruitless while he continue to taste her juices, eating as if it's a delicacy itself, swallowing down and circling his tongue inside her tight walls, loving every bit of it however his patience comes to end making him pull out his flesh with dripping saliva and ran his fingers past his hair.

"P-Please. Please spare me. Please..." Her voices somewhere blended with her sobbed sorrows and her grasp when he impatiently without preparation unbuckle his restrictions, pulling out his shaft and pierce straight inside her walls.

Arching her back and cry out a scream she felt utter hopeless and pain coursing through her limbs. "It hurts ! I-it hurts". Dragging her air she wail. "It hurts please Gojo. It hurts". pricked at his name Gojo shush her more, whispering sweet nothings like an lover not a rapist he is and claim her lips once more. Even stealing her right to speak.

Heartlessly he slam his throbbing shaft again and again, groaning within the kiss and savouring the feeling. "Ah ! Is this what feels to have sex ? Because if it is then I would do it again and again". Tilting his head, Gojo separated his lips and eventually his hips came to stuttering as he cum inside without a care of world unlike (Y/N) who's heart rattled under her ribcage.

"No ! No ! No ! No ! No ! You monster ! What did you do ?" In disbelief she kicked her tireless legs and dug her nails on his soft skin. Anger filling her mind. "I can be pregnant !" She cried out.

"Really ?" Honestly he asked, laughing. "Then I should do it properly". With that the horrors repeated with his hips penetrate her clit deeper.

Her lips parted echoing her scream along her eyes snap open. Her body jolt up from her bed and gasping for air as if she'd been underwater for too long. Her chest heaved, and her eyes frantically scanned the familiar surroundings of her room. Her clothes clung to her damp skin, a testament to the terror she had endured. "Wai—I am wearing my clothes. Does that mean ?" As reality set in, a wave of relief washed over her—it was just a nightmare, a twisted episode of her own madness, nothing more. Smiling to herself she craved the comfort of her friends so with a sense of urgency, she rushed to their room, catching a glimpse of them at the exhibition hall. She burst in, smiling wider and navigated through the crowd. Her eyes locked onto Nabora, and she grasped her best friend's hand like a lifeline.

"Good morning (Y/N)". Cheerfully she greeted.

"Good morning to you too". She breathed. "I had a nightmare". Her voice confessed. "Believe me or not the worst one".

"What do you mean". Concern fill the girl's face and (Y/N)'s lips about to elaborate when a pair of hands— disgustingly familiar and unsettling— wrapped around her shoulders from behind. A low, husky voice whispered in her ear.

"A nightmare huh ?" Gojo's words dripped with an unsettling intimacy, his tone implying secrets shared and terrors unspoken washing cold bucket of water over her head.

How ?

What ?

Impossible ?

"Right ! Gojo senpai, help your girlfriend ! She is in need of your help". Nobara spoke in an familiar tone to which he replied "of course".

"B-Boyfriend ?" Her words stutter.

"Oh ! Sorry not boyfriend. Fiancé !" She facepalmed herself laughing. Alone. Not with (Y/N) who's questions and terrors trapped in the vice of his embrace.

Leaning closely Gojo tucked her shirt a little making her aware of the intimacy marks she was blind to miss and whispered the bitter truth. "I have become the god of the chisel".

FIN

Yandere mafia sukuna au ( Jujutsu Kaisen ) maybe he falls for his favourite waitress who works at his favourite bar or cafe?

Yandere Mafia Boss! Sukuna

tw: Yandere Themes, Mafia Themes, Crime, Attempted Assault (Not by Sukuna), Violence, Broke Reader, Obsession, Possessive Behaviour, Usage of Curse Words, Mentions of Killings, Child Neglect, Punishment, Starvation, Abuse, Branding, Themes of Captivity

a/n: Okay, so this turned out darker than I intended it to be but this reflects more on how I think Yandere! Sukuna acts so it is what it is. Also, I used a new style of writing here lmk what y’all think.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna is a cruel man. The head of the infamous Ryomen crime family. An illegitimate child of his father, the former head, and a one of his many mistresses, Sukuna’s childhood was miserable. His father tossed him and his mother out on to the streets. He was forced to watch as his mother suffered in agony, too poor to afford the medicine she needed. The day of her funeral, his father came to take him in, not even sparing him a glance. From that day onwards, Sukuna swore to never allow himself to be weak again. And he kept that vow, clawing and killing his way to the top. Then when the time came, Sukuna rose up against his father and took control of the Ryomen Mafia, massacring anything and anyone who stood in his way.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna owns the entire city, having expanded exponentially since he took over. He has the media, the police, even the mayor in his pocket. Anyone who isn’t is too afraid to act against him. They’ve seen what happens to those who do. The city has an order, an order that is dictated by Sukuna. You’ve lived in this city all your life. And you’re desperate to get out of the cesspool of crime and corruption that takes place there. But you can’t do that, not yet at least. Hell, you can barely pay rent. So begrudgingly, you start to work at one of Sukuna’s many clubs. You hate it there, the uniform is too damn small; although you’re not really sure you call a pair of shorts that barely cover your ass, a top that squeezes your chest painfully, thigh-high leather boots, and fishnets a uniform, the leering gazes from perverts, and your shitty manager. But hey, the pay is decent and your dignity probably wasn’t worth that much anyways.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna boredly watches the club’s scenery. His men holler and hoot at the stripper who dances on the pole in front of them. Sukuna honestly couldn’t possibly care less. Same old dancers, same old expensive liquor, same old tarts trying to tempt him. Seriously, is there nothing exciting anymore? Has his city run dry of entertainment? Sighing irritably, Sukuna leaves, there’s nothing for him here anyways. Slinking through the backdoor of the V.I.P lounge and into an alway for a smoke. That’s when he sees you, dressed in your delicious little uniform. You’re cornered, by a low-level goon of his who just earned a promotion. Sukuna couldn’t be bothered to learn his name. He rolls his eyes, intelligence was so hard to come by these days. This idiot was trying to assault some unfortunate server in the clubs employ instead of taking one of the more well-versed participants of the act he was forcefully soliciting.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna goes to step in, that is until to kick the guy in the balls. Sukuna stares in utter shock and amusement. Who knew you had that in you? The goon howls in pain and snarls at you, promising a world of pain. Suddenly, your angry demeanour is gone, replaced by one of terror. You back up and prepare to flee. Then, Sukuna swoops in, effectively knocking the goon out from behind. He asks if you’re alright and gives his arm to hold onto so you can calm yourself. You steady your breath and thank him profusely. Sukuna coolly offers to walk you back to your car, a beat-up rusted thing, much to your embarrassment. You thank him once more before climbing into your car and driving off, leaving Sukuna intrigued.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna who’s had his interest peaked. He’s intrigued by you, that fiesty and kind spirit of yours provided him with the greatest entertainment he’s seen in years! Sukuna has his most trusted associates stalk keep tabs on you. He learns everything there is to know about, your hobbies, your likes, your dislikes, your medical information, your favourite food, even what time you go to sleep. As he delves deeper into the rabbit hole of obsession, Sukuna begins to follow you himself. A master at the act, Sukuna watches you, anytime he can. He watches you interact with the world. The way you cheerfully greet the owner of the small convenience store you frequent. How your laugh sounds as though it is a symphony from the greatest composers when you’re with your friends. The teasing smile you offer to a particularly attractive coworker that stopped coming into to work for some unknown reason the next day. And by god, Sukuna swears, you’re perfection. And he deserves nothing less.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna owns this city, so by default he owns you too. And it’s time to bring his prized possession home. Carefully, Sukuna, organizes your disappearance return to him. Anyone who’ll miss you is either bought off or scared off. The police couldn’t care less, after all, what’s one missing server to the amount of cash that they’ll be earning. And so finally, it’s time. You’re walking back to your dingy apartment, you were let go on the orders of Sukuna. He couldn’t bare to let anyone else see you in that number which was your uniform. Strangely enough, the stingy landlord allowed you to remain there, sweating and shaking as he did so. You suspiciously began to look for other jobs, because you didn’t trust the guy, but nobody was hiring. And then suddenly, like a switch, your landlord flipped and demanded that you pay all the accumulated rent. You furiously began to look and apply for jobs but was rejected every time. You’d just been rejected once more, leaving you dejected and walking back home; you had to sell your beaten up car to try and pay back your landlord. Too engrossed in your misery, you didn’t notice the men trailing you. Swiftly, one came up behind you. He quickly grabbed you and placed a chloroform cloth up to your mouth and nose before you had a chance to react. You went out like a light and the men loaded you up in a van to be delivered to their boss.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna is incredibly pleased to finally have you. You’re unconscious, tucked under the expensive sheets on the luxurious bed within the extravagant room Sukuna prepared for you. Sukuna hums as he gently holds your chin, tilting it up with four fingers, using his thumb to softly rub circles on your cheek, then tracing it down to your lips. You look so serene, steady, slow, breaths, your hair splayed across the pillows, and wearing the customized silk pyjamas he bought for you. You’re finally where you belong, with him. When you awake, you’re confused. Your bed has never felt this soft before. Then you look around the room, this isn’t your room. Panicking, you try to jump out of the bed, only to find that you’re bound to the bed with chains, the cuffs are padded softly though. You pull at the chains but your efforts remain fruitless.

“So you’ve finally awaken, hm?”

Freezing upon hearing that slightly familiar voice, you turn your gaze towards the directions of its owner. Your eyes widened and your throat dried, it was the man who saved you.

“You! Did you do this to me?!” You demanded as his eyes bored into yours.

“As in returning you to where you belong? Yes, I did.”

“What the hell are you talking about,” you snarled.

“Quite,” he ordered, dropping his neutral tone for a more menacing one. “You’re mine, I saved you didn’t I? You should repay the favour.”

“Let me go!” You cry, struggling with all your might. “Please,” you beg as you finally break, beginning to sob.

“Enough, there’s no need for that. As long as you behave, you’ll be rewarded.” Your captor says gruffly before stalking out of the room, leaving you to wail and beg for release.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna stays true to his word. As long as you ‘behave’ or do as he says, you live better than you ever could’ve. You eat gourmet food and drink rich, costly alcohol; that you consume in copious amounts in an effort to forget where you are and how you got there. Your wardrobe, although chosen to be suited to Sukuna’s taste rather than yours, is filled with luxurious clothes and items you never would’ve been able to afford. Yet nobody can put a price on freedom, and to be free is all you want. Any escape attempt is futile, you cannot bribe the guards meticulously watching you. And even if you were to slip past the guards eyes, you’d be caught in a number of minutes. All that results in is the torture and murder of guards and in you being punished.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna takes a sadistic pleasure in punishing you. Of course, he likes when you’re docile but he adores your fiesty spirit. It’s really more of an ownership thing to be honest. Nobody else can touch you; Sukuna is the king of the world and you are his consort, his and his only. His to love and his to punish. Punishments can range from starvation to broken bones, all fit in accordance with his mood. But don’t worry, none of it is permanent. Well, most of it isn’t permanent, the brand labeled ‘Property of Sukuna’ looks absolutely gorgeous burned into your skin! Oh, how delicious your cries and pleas were. Otherwise, Sukuna is wonderful towards you, all your wishes, save your freedom, are granted. You live in comfort, it only being cast aside for Sukuna’s pleasure. Afterall, he’s your saviour, so shouldn’t you be a bit more considerate?

Yandere Platonic Sukuna

tw: Yandere Themes, Overprotectiveness, Attempted Murder, Massacre, Concubines/Harems, Poison, Mentions of Killings, Torture, Child Murder, Child Neglect

•Sukuna is definitely one of the most unexpected platonic yanderes. I mean who’d expect the might ‘King of Curses’ to have an attachment to another being? Well, the sorcerers didn’t and that’s for sure. Sukuna was human before he was defeated. He wined, dined, and lusted to his hearts content.

•It wasn’t a surprise when Sukuna found out he sired offspring, afterall with all the woman he had slept with there was bound to be some. Originally, when he discovered your existence, Sukuna planned to kill you. He didn’t want any children, even if he didn’t have to raise them. Your mother was wise. She fled from her life as one of Sukuna’s many concubines once she learned that she was pregnant. She knew what happened to the other women who bared Sukuna’s children.

•Your mother kept to herself, giving birth to you in a village then packing it up and moving along after just two weeks. She knew that if he found you, Sukuna would kill both of you. But no matter how cautious she was, even your mother grew careless as time passed. Around two years had passed and Sukuna still hadn’t found you. So she settled down in a quaint farming village, raising you with the help of the kind village people.

•Unfortunately, your cursed energy grew extremely and it was detected by Uraume. They investigated the source, then reported back to Sukuna. So he set out on his way to ‘take care’ of you and your mother. Your mother awoke to the sounds of screaming and crying with the smell of smoke wafting through the air. He’d found you. She ran to get you but was interrupted by Sukuna barging through the door. He began to choke your mother as she struggled. Then you toddled out, having been wakened by the loud noise outside.

•Instead of screeching and sobbing out of fear like Sukuna expected you to after you saw him, you sleepily walked up towards Sukuna and motioned for him to pick you up. He dropped your now dead mother, who went motionless awhile ago, and held you up by your sleep kimino. He was fascinated by you. Why were you not scared? Sukuna inspected you, searching for a tell as to why you were unafraid. Perhaps it’s because of you’re unusually high cursed energy, Sukuna thought as he poked one of your chubby cheeks. That made you pout adorably, puffing your cheeks which caused your father to laugh. Maybe it was because you were his child, Sukuna mused playfully. You truly were entertaining. He could keep around for a little longer, couldn’t he? You provided more amusement than any of the women in his harem did.

•Sukuna ended up taking you back with him. He ordered some maids to prepare a room and to take care of your basic necessities. Nobody understood what purpose Sukuna had for you. Some pitied you, some envied you, while others ignored you. Sukuna visited you almost every day, just to bother or tease you. He enjoyed your reactions and his visits became longer and more frequent. The maids continued to care for you to the best of their abilities. They saw that you were just a helpless child, an adorable one at that. However, the concubines of the harem grew jealous of you.

•The concubines yearned for the treatment you received. Many of them felt entitled to it and began to plot for your death so that any children they sired would receive the same treatment. So they snuck poison into your dinner with the help of a bribed maid. When Sukuna found your pitiful form he went ballistic. Carefully, he first healed you, then he slaughtered and tortured everyone in the harem and all the maids. All while cradling you in one of his arms.

•After that incident, Sukuna became hyper protective of you. He would have only Uraume care for you when necessary. Otherwise you would spend all your time with him. You grew up under Sukuna’s watchful eyes. Your childhood was a luxurious one, all your whims were quickly met. Sukuna absolutely doted on you, spoiling you to your hearts content. Eventually, you blossomed into a beautiful and kind young lady, all the more reason to keep you locked away from the world in Sukuna’s eyes. He would rather die than have someone take you from him.

•You never once complained though. You understood what a terrible place the world was, at least according to your father. You had everything you desired here. Besides, there was always Sukuna and Uruame to keep you company. But then came the day where your father was defeated and sealed away. You were utterly heartbroken. One particular sorcerer who helped defeat him, saw you and instead of exploiting your powers, he helped you. He gave you freedom. You fell in love with the sorcerer and married him, living a long happy life without your father.

•Eventually, when Yuji ate Sukuna’s finger and that whole mess got over with, all Sukuna could think about was you. You’d gotten married, according to the smug white-haired annoyance, to one of the sorcerers who helped defeat him. Sukuna was livid. Perhaps he was a little irked at you for marrying that traitor but he mostly blamed that sorcerer. First he sealed Sukuna away, then he steal his precious child?! But you’d long passed alongside your husband, Sukuna grimaced.

•Sukuna’s mourning was cut short when Yuji’s elder sibling walker through the door. It was you, an exact replica. Sukuna watched in amazement. This person didn’t just look like you, the sounded like you and acted like you. You had the exact same mannerisms, the same smile and laugh. Now, Sukuna doesn’t believe in reincarnation, but right in front of him was living proof. You’d been reincarnated, and you were the exact same as when he left you. Sukuna had another chance with you, and even though you didn’t know it yet, he’d be damned if he let his child slip through his fingers a second time.

Yandere Kyoto Tech First + Second Years Reacting To Reader Trying To Leave Them

tw: captivity, gaslighting(?), yandere themes

Yuji Itadori- Oh, he’d be so utterly heartbroken, poor sweet boy. He’s so distraught, wondering what he did wrong and how he can fix it. You know he loves you right? Why do you want to leave? Isn’t he enough? He understands that you want freedom, but he can’t let you go. Not with curses lurking at every corner, not after what happened to Junpei. All he wants is to keep you safe, why can’t you understand that? He tries to reason with you, he really does try. But when you move to leave, he tightly grips your wrist and pulls you deeper into the house in which he keeps you. No matter how hard you struggle, he’s just too strong for you. Guiltily, Yuji drags you into a room, which he then locks you in. You pound on the door, screeching and yelling. And as guilty as he feels, he can’t let you out. It’s all for your own good, you’ll understand eventually.

Megumi Fushiguro- He was expecting it, to be honest. Megumi isn’t a delusional yandere. He knows that you want freedom, to live your life as you choose. And how he desperately wants to give you that, to live a normal life with you. In the beginning, he did try. But the world you live in is filled with danger and you aren’t strong enough to protect yourself, so he’ll do it for you. You pitch a fit of course. So stubborn, a trait that Megumi loves but right now doesn’t have the patience for. He quickly knocks you out before you can register what is happening. When you wake up you’re in a locked room, with no windows or any way out. It pains Megumi to do this but he won’t let you put yourself in danger.

Nobara Kuigasaki- She definitely has a lot less patience than Megumi and Yuji. She immediately starts yelling at you, demanding if you know what you’re doing. You clearly don’t if you’re trying to leave. Do you not understand how dangerous it is out there? Do you not get that you’re too weak to protect yourself? Nobara and you argue for what seems like hours, leaving you both red-faced, with tears of frustration building up in the corners of your eyes. You’re exhausted, so is she. All she wants is for you to be safe, so please, let her do protect you. And despite having less patience than both Yuuji and Megumi, she’s the only yandere who can truly get through to her darling. So you both compromise, you’ll get your freedom so long that you allow her to train and accompany you, and you’ll allow her to do so, because you really do both love each other.

Toge Inumaki- He is probably the most infuriating yandere to have. I mean he just kind of stands in front of you, completely deadpan. It’s like arguing with a wall. You can scream and shout, and beg and plead all you like, he just stares at you with the most bored expression. You’re so frustrated at the end, but you’ve exhausted yourself to the point of tears. At this point, Toge simply says stay. Even though you don’t want too, you can’t resist his cursed speech.

Maki Zenin- Similarly to Toge and Megumi, she knew this was coming and doesn’t care that it’s happening. You aren’t leaving, it’s as simple as that. You’re weak, not an ounce of strength residing in you. And you expect to be able to survive in the world? She just sighs and ends up dragging you to a locked room that’s going to be your new home for the rest of your life. Maki doesn’t care how hard you protest or how much you cry and beg. She’s not going to let you be taken from her, never.

Addiction- Yandere Mafia Boss Sukuna x Reader

an: I do not condone this behaviour, this is purely fiction. Do not interact if you do not like it, or can’t stomach it.

tw: dark themes, yandere, mafia au, violence, possessive behaviour, toxic relationships, kidnapping, branding, captivity

Sukuna is a selfish man. He’s a self-absorbed, egotistical bastard. The devil himself, a wretch of a man who is ruthless in everything he does. His cruel touch has cursed the lives of many; killings and tortures all done in his name, by his order. Sukuna does as pleases, indulging in his greed. Yet he still yearns for more. He possesses a desire that will never be sated. There had been kindness within him, once. A different time; when the world had not exposed its evil to him. That warmth was extinguished with his mother’s dying breath, and there lay no hope of reviving it. Until he met you.

A puny thing really, compared to the low-levelled goon of his that was currently harassing you. Such a classless act being committed outside one his preferred establishments, it was irritating. He didn’t intend to save you; more so punish the lackey for his annoyance. You were a pathetic, pitiful, cornered creature, not worth any attention. Then, out of nowhere, you kicked him straight in the nuts. Sukuna was simultaneously surprised, impressed, and amused. Before the goon could actually harm you, Sukuna stepped in and knocked him out. You were shaking from shock and terror. However, when you looked up at him, there was no fear eyes, only gratitude. Perhaps that was the reason he played a gentle saviour. A reward, he decided, for the entertainment you provided. Escorting you to your car and watching you drive off in the old rusted thing should have been the end of the whole affair, but it wasn’t. You lingered in the back of Sukuna’s mind for days. You plagued his thoughts, haunting him. His interest evolved into a nagging curiosity, and regardless of how he tried to resist it, the urge to know more about you won out; and down the rabbit hole he fell.

It began with the discovery of your name. It was all Sukuna needed to know, the name of the person he’d saved, the name of the person who tormented his mind. Yet it was not enough. He had to know more. He uncovered every bit of your being, leaving nothing unknown; your address, your number, your favourite foods and activities, your deepest secrets, all known to Sukuna. The more he knew, the more the obsession grew. You were perfection incarnate. Something, someone, truly divine that had graced the world with their presence. He desired to possess that divinity, to possess you. You didn’t deserve him, not at all. Sukuna was a depraved being, unworthy of even being near you. Alas, fate was cruel, and Sukuna even crueler. He had to have you, and would do anything in pursuit of you. You lived in the seediest part of time, he reasoned, in a shabby apartment that you could barely afford. You needed him to keep you safe and protected, you needed to be saved. He had his most trusted men tail you while he prepared the most luxurious room for you; you deserved only the best after all. It took time, yet Sukuna pieced together a flawless plan. Soon you would be with him, where you belonged. And how he couldn’t wait for that day to come.

As time marched on slowly, Sukuna became increasingly impatient; the anticipation of your arrival into his arms was overwhelming. Once the day arrived he became more agitated than usual. He had yearned for this day, for you, and soon he would have you. Sukuna was halfway through a meeting when his phone buzzed. The moment he glanced down and the read the message he’d received, Sukuna swiftly exited the meet room, ignoring the shock of his underlings. You had been safely delivered to his estate, your new home. Sukuna sped home in his car, anticipation building up and threatening to boil over. When he finally arrived Sukuna rushed through the door, up the grand staircase, and navigated through the extensive maze of corridors to your designated room. Taking a baited breath, he carefully opened the door and set his eyes upon you.

There you lie, his darling, his beloved, the only thing that could ever invoke such weakness from him— and you were here, lying right in front of him. You were peacefully dozing off. Sukuna stayed by your side for who knows how long, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest. Then, your eyes twitched, fluttering open. You awoke disgruntled, initial confusion turning into panic at the realization that you weren’t in your apartment. Sukuna watched you for a moment, before deciding to grab your attention.

“So you’ve finally awaken, hm?” He hummed, watching as you slowly turn towards him. Your expression was akin to a frightened doe. Slowly, the gears turned in your head and you gaped in recognition, “You! Did you do this to me?!”

“As in returning you to where you belong? Yes, I did.” He replied neutrally.

“What the hell are you talking about,” you snarled. “Quite,” he ordered, dropping his neutral tone for a more menacing one. “You’re mine, I saved you didn’t I? You should repay the favour.” “Let me go!” You cry, struggling with all your might. “Please,” you beg as you finally break, beginning to sob. “Enough, there’s no need for that. As long as you behave, you’ll be rewarded.”

With that, Sukuna stalked out the room. He knew it would take time for you to adjust, after all anyone would react poorly to such sudden change. All Sukuna could do was wait, and he’d done so before. He wanted to own you not only in body, but in mind and soul as well. He yearned for a normal relationship with you— well, as normal as a relationship with him can be. So, he remained patient, albeit with much difficulty. Sukuna loves you so much and he knows, he knows, he must be understanding of your feelings, yet he cannot impede his desire for you, for your warmth and kindness, for everything and anything but the fear you display. He wants for you to not cower when you see him. He wants for you to tremble nervously. He wants you to not look at him with the terror and hatred that others do. Sukuna wants— no he needs you to love him as he loves you, to devote yourself to him as he’s done for you. And he will do anything to attain that, even it requires him to wait forever.

Then again, perhaps that patient leniency is what lead to this situation in the first place, Sukuna muses to himself. You kneel in front of tears pooling at your eyes, false apologies spilling out of your lips. His indulgence of you had lead to your attempt to leave him, to abandon him just as everyone else had. Perhaps you weren’t an angel then, rather you were a demon; a sultry temptress sent to corrupt him further, to ensnare him in your web of lies and devour him whole. Well, you’d succeeded. He’d gone soft for you, for his precious, sweet thing. But now you’d revealed your true nature. You did not need his protecting, no you needed him to correct you. He would purify you, lead you into the light, into his light. Yes, he was your saviour and this was all done for you, for your betterment. Sukuna feels a twisted pleasure blossoming in his heart, your “corrections” would begin now.

“Please Sukuna, please. I’m sorry, I really am so sorry,” you plead, sniffling and hiccuping slightly, “I won’t do it again, I swear!”

Sukuna looks down at you, smiling unnervingly. Gently, he kneels, reaching down to wipe the tears from your right eye, and coos down at you, “Don’t worry, my love. I won’t hurt you. How could I? I love you more than life itself. I cherish you more than anything in this world.” You nod tentatively, lulled by his low and kind tone and sweet words. “But, you’ve been thoroughly ungrateful. Behaving so poorly, and now this. I don’t blame you, of course. It’s my fault after all. I failed to teach you properly, so now I must rectify this mistake. This will merely be a small lesson my love, done for your sake, not mine.”

With that, Sukuna stood up. He towers above you, like a god, your god. You stopped crying, the tears sticking to your face, making your cheeks ans eyes red, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. You look adorable like this, thought Sukuna, still smiling. His smile grew almost sadistic as he gestured towards his men. You furrowed your brows in confusion, most liking wondering what he meant by “lesson.” Your eyes dart around the room, trying to comprehend what was happening. Then, you spot it; a branding iron. You shriek, attempting to run but a few muscular guards hold you down. You thrash around wildly, begging and screaming. A scene truly oscar worthy in Sukuna’s opinion, though it didn’t invoke any pity from the guards. Finally, you turn to him.

“Sukuna don’t! Please, I beg of you! I’ll behave, I promise. I’ve learned my lesson I swear! I only need you, I only love you!” You screech, pleadingly. Sukuna hums, unaffected by your display. He rips off the section of your shirt covering your lower back. He traces some letters onto the bare skin. Reaching out his arm to receive the branding iron, he tuts, “Ah, but darling, how could you have learned a lesson that I am yet too teach? You must not lie, although we shall save that lesson for another time. Today’s lesson is on who you belong too: me.”

Carefully, Sukuna lined the branding iron up perfectly. And then he brought it down on you. You let out a blood-curdling scream, howling and writhing in pain as your skin sizzled delightfully. Sukuna held it place for a good few seconds before removing it. Grinning, he read and reread the “property of Sukuna” that had been burned into your skin. Proof of his ownership over you that was permanently imprinted into your skin. You continued to wriggle and sob from the searing pain. This, Sukuna thought in full confidence, was a lesson that neither of you would forget. Sighing contently, he rang a bell, summoning your personal servants, or babysitters.

“Allow the brand to fully set in. Do not cause additional pain, but do not relieve the current pain they’re feeling either. Disobey and you will be severely punished, understood?” He ordered, darkly. The maids nodded and carefully carried you out the room. Sukuna turned around, glaring sharply, “Well then, out! All of you!”

His men scrambled out of the room, unwilling to fave their boss’s wrath should they disobey. Alone, Sukuna poured himself a whiskey and relished in the pleasure he received from your “lesson.” He needed to own you, to have you. To be the only one who could love you, who could hurt you; it would be him and him alone. It was not love he felt, it was an addiction, to you. An addiction that he must feed, Sukuna mused as he thought about more “lesson” plans. After all, he had promised to teach you about the wrongs of lying.