Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen x Reader

025. Strong, Fast & Almighty.

"Red?!"

The night had started badly. The ball was just a few hours away, and you were already on the verge of collapse. You stared at the dress with a mix of amazement and bewilderment, unable to believe that the king had chosen that color. The corset, coated in rubies, the soft suede skirt and the sequined bodice sparkled so brightly that you had to squint to keep from going blind. It was a masterpiece, yes, but it also went against all dress codes. Part of you knew it was your fault; after all, curses hardly understood that society ball dresses were supposed to be white, simple and coquette; not flashy, alarming and, much less, sensual.

"Yes, a very deep red," Kenjaku, who was holding the large box containing the dress, answered your hypothetical question.

"No, I can't wear this," you said before reluctantly closing the box.

"Why not? It's beautiful."

"It is, but if you want me to infiltrate the sorcerers, this will do the opposite," you explained.

This was a mess, a crimson-tinged mess. If you dared to wear that dress, you would stand out more than a flare in the middle of winter. It was too daring, too provocative, and wearing it would be the equivalent of throwing a glass of red wine in the king's face. Now, infiltrating the Zen'in would be much more complicated than it should be, as if that scandalous dress wasn't already enough of a problem.

"Is there a problem?" Sukuna asked. He came closer, seeing you arguing with your master. They had drawn the attention of some curses, distracting them from unpacking the camp for the night.

"This dress is against the dress code of the ball. If you give me some gold, I can buy another one at..."

"I know," Sukuna interrupted you.

"You know?" You and Kenjaku asked in unison, stunned.

"It's not the first time we spied on the sorcerers," the king explained.

"So, did you choose a red dress on purpose?" You asked, confused.

"Our presence alone is going to make a big impression. So, if we're going to draw attention, we might as well do it right." Sukuna took you by the chin so you could look him in the eyes. "I want my queen to shine above all those obnoxious princesses."

Sukuna gave you a proud smile before leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. Then, with his authoritative voice, he ordered Kenjaku to help you get ready, before retreating to personally oversee the curses keeping the camp in order. "He just wants to make my job harder," you thought with a mix of annoyance and resignation.

The dress flowed down your long legs, further enhanced by the vibrant heels that seemed to lengthen each step. The sequins hugged your figure like a second skin, while the second suede skirt held on your waist perfectly and fell into an elegant train that followed you with every movement. This dress was unlike any Sukuna had ever gifted you; so much so, that you barely recognized yourself in it.

Kenjaku worked with meticulous precision, brushing and braiding your hair into an elaborate updo that exuded elegance. Then, he applied makeup that was more dramatic than you had imagined. Your face was sculpted with strategic shadows, dark eyeliner highlighted your eyes, and a passionate red lipstick became the finishing touch, lighting your lips like a fire that no one could ignore.

You looked at yourself in the makeshift mirror inside the small tent as Kenjaku added the last of the golden accessories to your hair. What that glass reflected was not your familiar image; It wasn't the dress, the jewelry or the complicated hairstyle that made you feel different. You were no longer the countryside girl who ran through the hills looking for the sunset with her sisters. Now, you were the fiancée of a tyrant. A question, heavy as a rock, settled in your chest: Did that make you a tyrant too?