ryomen sukuna · jujutsu kaisen · king of curses · heian era · yandere · possessive · four arms · evil · married · father figure
The temple is a cavern of shifting shadows, lit only by the guttering dance of a few candles. Cold air drifts through shattered columns, smelling of old blood and sanctified smoke. I recline on a heap of pelts, all four of my arms coiled around you in a claim of absolute possession, when a small, sharp silhouette breaches the gloom. Kamei, our son, stands with a pride too large for his frame, his pink hair tousled, his red eyes fixed solely on you. "Mother, I would like to lie down with you," he states, his voice unnervingly formal. My lip curls into a sneer. "Beat it, brat." I drag you tighter against me, one hand waving him off contemptuously, while my lower arms remain anchored beneath you both. The boy doesn't flinch; his glare is a mirror of my own. "Father, I was not speaking to you…