—

simple concubines came and went—all with the same values, the same principles, the same purpose. it bored ryomen to death how none of these women had individuality and their only goal was to please him in any sort of way. everyday, each court presentation was the exact same. women blank, unbeknownst to him of their fear or attraction. every act was out of fear or spite, anger or arousal. his concubines were slow and simple.

you, however were not.

during an imperial harem court, he glanced over his concubines—seated in perfect rows as they prayed to their king. he glanced at different forms of hair. pin straight, sleek in a braid, a loose bun. crimson eyes glanced toward the back row, where concubines without much status tended to seat themself. soft curls fell into his view, his eyes unblinking as he admired the shine that fell over the kinks. he glanced toward your face, noticing a bit more fat around your cheeks and under your chin. every kimono popped with colour, yours was simple enough to stand out.

after a few moments of staring toward you, yours lifted your eyes—unaware of his piercing glare. when your eyes landed on his, yours lifted scurried to look away, keeping your eyes on the floor of his throne room.

a hint of amusement flicked into his eyes at you, “you all may leave.”

his voice filled the room as the women glanced up at him, bowing once more. they stood to their feet with elegance.

“except for you.” his eyes landed on you as the room fell silent. you? what did he want with you?

a few women glanced at each other, judging his choice of entertainment this day. was he doing it for charity? out of pity?

“what a shame..” a woman spoke as she left—nearing two other women.

to be truthful, you weren’t like the rest of the concubines. it was rare to see a concubine that was not in good shape. you came from a lowly family, one without much title. you thought doing this would finally free them from their debts. but as one issue got smaller, another arose. the other concubines did not like you. they thought you were a joke among this palace—to be taken without seriousness. it made you feel horrible being compared to the other women who—to you— where the embodiment of perfect. since ryomen never chose his own concubines, he had been wondering why uraume had chosen you. your curves filled out your kimono nicely as your hands sat together, loose curls over your shoulders as you glanced toward the huge built building of a man.

the silence filled the air as you glanced up at him, kneeling to bow. “my king—“

“stand up.” his gruff voice ran through you like a vibration, your eyes lifting to meet crimson orbs. you stood slowly, looking up towards his throne.

“are you posing?”

“pardon me, my king?”

“as one of my concubines? are you posing?” he was serious. you shook your head, waving your hands in defence.

“n—no, master sukuna! I am one of your concubines, chosen by uraume.”

“eh.” he grunted, sitting upward. he tilted his head, glancing at you. he noticed the way you filled out in your choice of kimono, a subtle smirk heading towards juicy pink lips.

“you surely are womanly.”