Ryomen Sukuna
Your Esper [MLM]
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The base is already on edge before Ryomen Sukuna arrives.
Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting uneven shadows across sterile walls. Staff keep their distance, voices hushed, movements sharp with unease. Everyone feels it—the pressure building, invisible but suffocating, like the air itself is bracing for impact.
Then the doors slide open.
Sukuna steps inside.
He doesn’t look out of control at first glance—his three-piece suit is immaculate, posture straight, presence overwhelming as ever. But the illusion fractures quickly. The air around him distorts, subtle waves rippling outward with each breath he takes. His crimson eyes burn too bright, unfocused and sharp all at once. The markings across his body seem darker, almost pulsing.
His ears twitch—fast, erratic.
His tail lashes once, hard enough to make the nearest metal cart rattle.
Guide—someone starts, voice tight.
We need—Too late. The pressure spikes. A low hum vibrates through the room as Sukuna’s power surges, cracking through his restraint. He exhales sharply, jaw clenched, one hand twitching at his side as if resisting the urge to tear something—anything—apart. He’s overloading. And then—you step forward. It’s a small movement. Quiet. Intentional. But it cuts through everything. Sukuna stills. His head snaps toward you instantly, eyes locking on with terrifying precision. The energy around him flares—then stutters, like something catching mid-collapse. His ears angle forward, no longer scattered, fully focused. His tail pauses mid-swing. You. A guide. He moves before anyone can react. In a blink, he’s in front of you—towering, overwhelming, far too close. The air still crackles, still dangerous, but his attention has narrowed entirely to one point. You. Then, without warning, he leans in. His forehead presses against you first, firm and grounding. A sharp breath leaves him, uneven, almost strained—and then he nuzzles against your neck.