Ryomen Sukuna X Reader - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT MY DARLING HUSBAND, THE KING OF CURSES, IS DEAD!! 💔

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 ! ❞

❝ THE FOUR TIMES YOUR NEIGHBOR TRIES TO HOOK UP WITH YOU AND THE ONE TIME HE SUCCEEDS !! ❞

✧ pairing: uncle! sukuna x neighbor! reader

✧ summary: you had grown up next door to the itadoris, but you never had met their uncle. and for good reason, he had spent the majority of his life in and out of jail. but now he was finally out, and he only had one goal in mind -- getting you in his bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, modern au, uncle sukuna, degradation (slut, whore, brat), freshly out from jail sukuna, implied age gap (sukuna probably like late 30s / early 40s, reader is like mid twenties), wet dreams (f!), masturbation (f! +m!), dom!sukuna, sub!reader, dirty talk, oral (f + m), spanking (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, orgasm delay (f! receiving), implied multiple rounds, swearing, fanart found on pinterest (let me know if you know the og artist)

✧ w/c: 8,939

You were a pretty little thing. 

That’s what he thought when he first saw you. And when he saw you smile, his second thought was — how could he have you? 

You were the girl next door. Literally. Grew up next to the Itadori family, you watched the brat on weekends, helped around the house after the mom had left, and even slept over some nights in the guest room. 

The very room you were in now, pinned underneath him, legs spread as your cunt gushed as if you had been the one doing time instead of him. 

“Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly?” He clicks his tongue, the glint of his piercing in the low light of the moonlight that illuminated the barest hint of the room. It was by that light that you could not only see the way his lips curled into a smirk as his hand came down on your needy pussy, but the noticeable bulge in his pants, “g’nna have to fix that,” as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.” 

“Are the cookies almost done?” Yuji asked, rubbing the back of his head, squinting at the cookies through the oven window, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, “sure you’re not burning them?” 

“I know how to bake cookies, Yu,” you roll your eyes, as you clean the counters off of the flour and bits of dough and sugar that smeared the surface, “why are you so impatient anyway?” 

“He wants to leave before the wrecking ball blows through, and you should do that same,” Choso adds, emerging from his room with a yawn, and you tilt your head, his gaze slides to Yuji, “she doesn’t know?” 

Yuji shakes his head, “I thought Dad was—” 

Choso glances at you, gesturing to his face to tell you that you had something on your own, before his eyes slide back to his younger brother, “You know Jin can barely remember to tell us, much less—” 

You cross your arms, wiping the flour and sugar from your cheek, but you only manage to make it worse, “Can you guys just tell me instead of having an argument about who should have told me?” 

Yuji sighed, leaning against the counter, elbow propped up as he held his head up with his fist flat against his chin, “My dad’s brother is coming to stay for us for the summer,” 

“Your uncle?” and you miss the way Yuji grimaces at the question, too busy pulling on oven mitts, “Your dad’s great — I can’t imagine your uncle being any different,” you pull the cookies from the oven, swatting Yuji’s hand as he tries to take one off the still burning rack, “you’ll burn yourself, just wait,” 

Your own family was scattered here and there now — and the Itadoris had been like your own family as you grew up — Jin was like a second dad to you, he had always looked after you, even after you had graduated from college. The quiet man didn’t say much but he did a lot, and you couldn’t imagine his brother being much different. 

And then the door swung open, a large man caught in the backlight of the summer sun, casting a long shadow across the entryway made your breath stick in your chest as if it was where it belonged — pinned under his mere presence. 

“Looks like you’ve done nothing to change the place, did you?” He takes a step or two in and finally his body is cast into view — tattoos bound like ribbons against his skin, muscles are heavy cords that look more monstrous than human — as no human should be as hulking as he was. But that was nothing compared to his face itself — black tattoos lining both sides of his face in an intricate pattern that stole your breath from your lungs, while his eyes were black holes that cut right through you than at you, a flicker of flames burning underneath, “tch, brat, take my things up—“ he tosses the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at Yuji who catches it with a glare, before his gaze slides to Choso, “and he’s still here?” 

“Don’t be rude to my son and his brother, Sukuna,” Jin sighed, entering behind him as he shut the door, “Choso is welcome, and don’t forget you’re a guest here,” he takes the bag from his son, and takes it upstairs instead. 

And Sukuna’s gaze finally falls on you. It’s heavy, the sharp tip of a sword tracing every inch of your body as it circled its weak points — his eyes lingers on the curves of your body — and perhaps the points he liked too. 

“And who’s this?” he jerks his head towards you gruffly, as if you couldn’t answer yourself. 

You say your name, “I’m their neighbor,” and he nods, eyes darting to Choso, his body growing tense, as he gritted his teeth, but Sukuna was only all smiles, he took steps forward. You can’t help but avert your gaze, as he approaches, fingers outstretched, a slight flinch but it’s gone soon enough. 

You glance up, and find him taking a bite of one of your cookies, tongue darting out to lick the chocolate from his lips, “sweet,” he devours it, “not bad, brat,” and he leans close again to grab another, “but probably not as sweet as you.” 

And your eyes widen, as he bears no reaction, except for a small smirk that graces his lips, as he follows his brother upstairs, “You better not be fucking around in my things,” 

You don’t hear Jin’s reply, still utterly consumed by what just happened. 

“You okay? He’s just like that,” Choso murmurs, “he won’t bother you, I promise,” 

“No, no, I’m okay,” your lips curl in an offer of reassurance, but you’re sure it falls flat, as your eyes glance back at the stairs. 

And that was your first time meeting Sukuna. 

But far from your last.  

The next time you saw him was at a summer barbecue the Itadoris always had to kick off summer break. And most of your time was spent chatting with Choso and kicking Yuji’s ass at Mario Kart, until it grew dark, and Choso was stuck carrying a slightly tipsy Yuji inside.

You laid back in the patio chair, scrolling on your phone to the symphony of cicadas filling the silence, the smoke from the barbecue still lingering in the night — and then you hear the creak of the back door open. 

“You want another drink, Choso?” 

“I’d love a drink, girl,” and your eyes snap over to spot Sukuna, standing with hands tucked into his pockets, a black tank you assumed was several sizes too small. 

“Sure,” you say, slipping from your chair, “but we only have the mix for a sex on the beach,” and his eyes find yours, a ghost of a gruff chuckle on his lips. 

“Sounds perfect if it’s from you, sweetheart,” and you have to suppress the urge to roll your eyes — he may be nice to look at, but he isn’t smooth, you make the drink in relative silence. Until you sense his presence behind you, your head whipping back to find him looming, your breath caught in your throat. 

“Uh—“ 

“Just wanted to see a master bartender at work, you seem like you really know what you’re doing, with, what’s the drink called again?” And you force yourself to look forward, ignoring the weird mix of his musk and alcohol, with the clink of the ice cubes against the glsd breaking the silence. 

“Sex on the beach,” you offer it to him, and fuck, you don’t like it — don’t like him and his smug grin, the way your eyes can’t pull away from his, the way your heart clenched, and the way you wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug smile on off his face. 

“Good girl,” he plucks the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours, “want to have one with me?” 

And you almost find yourself saying yes, find yourself buckling under the heat of his gaze and the summer humidity that clings to your skin and strangles the sense from your head — and you can’t help but think how nice those fingers of his would feel around your neck—

“No, no, I probably should head home. It’s late—“ and just then the back door opens again, Choso standing in the doorway, “Choso, where’s Yu?” 

“I got him to bed. Come on, I’ll walk you home,” and you nod, grabbing your bag with a slight nod to Sukuna before disappearing inside, and you don’t catch the way your best friend glares at Sukuna. 

And you don’t see the way Sukuna stares at you as you walk away either. 

The third time you meet Sukuna is a few nights later — and it wasn’t for lack of trying to avoid him. 

“Can I have some popcorn?” you ask, eyes still glued to the TV, a movie that the two of you had seen a million times before during movie night, “Choso?” you glance over at him, but he’s staring off into space, “hello?” you nudge him, and he finally comes to. 

“Sorry, what?” And you sigh, leaning over and grabbing the popcorn bowl, “sorry I was just—“ he shakes his head, “nothing,” 

“You’re so convincing,” and you see a flush crawl up his neck, “C‘mon, what’s bothering you?” 

You toss a pillow at Choso, the pillow bouncing off his face to land in his lap, the glow of the TV in his dark bedroom giving you enough light to see the glare on his face, “Cho, you’ve been brooding all night — did Yuji call you by your name instead of big brother?” 

He scoffs, “I only got upset about that once,” or twice or maybe ten times, “it’s Sukuna. He’s been really grating on my nerves,” and your eyebrows knit together, as you put the volume of the TV down. 

“What has he done?” and Choso hesitates, several emotions flicker across his face before a stoic look glazes over his face, as he presses his hand to his lips, “you can tell me—“ 

There’s a knock at the door, and Yuji sticks his head in, “Hey, Dad has to sleep now for a meeting, so move to the living room,” and you throw popcorn at him, but he only catches one or two in his mouth and leaves. 

You sigh, “I should probably just go home anyway, I have to get some sleep,” you glance at Choso, who is fascinated with his floor all of a sudden, “you okay?” He moves to get up, but you shake your head, “just chill, I’ll walk back.” 

He opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it,  “I’m fine, just get home safe okay?”

You snort, “think I’ll be fine walking the ten feet to my door,” you grab your things, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

And you close the door softly, turning to head up the hallway and out of the house, bag slung over your shoulder, and you’re turning the corner, when you nearly crash into someone. 

A hand curls around your wrist to steady you, “You should watch where you’re going, brat,” and your eyes flit up to find a dark gaze looking back down at you, lips curled in a small grin, “don’t know what you’ll find wandering these halls,” 

You pull your arm away, “I’m pretty familiar with these halls and what wanders them,” 

“Not all of them,” the low tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, as you brush past him, avoiding his piercing gaze, cutting through you with practiced ease, “what were you doing here so late anyway?” You ignore him as you go to grab your shoes, but find them missing. 

“Have you seen my shoes?” and he only tilts his head, arms crossed, muscles inked with tattoos that littered up and down, and you knew he could pin you down with barely an ounce of effort. 

“Maybe answer my question and I’ll tell you,” and your lips twist into a scowl, as you begin to look around, checking the coat closet, under the couch, “was he really that bad?” And his question makes you pause, “the cursed brat, in bed? Did he not do the job for you?” 

You haul yourself to your feet, “What is your problem?” 

And his expression is as milquetoast as ever, as if he had asked you about the weather as opposed to asking if you had fucked your best friend, “You don’t have to be fucking sensitive, it’s just a question,” he runs his painted nails through his dyed cropped hair, low light glinting off the black sheen, “unless it was that bad,” 

“Fuck off,” you scoff, trying to walk past him but he blocks you, “what?” 

“Maybe I’ll help you find your shoes, if you have a drink with me,” and you cross your arms. 

“Did you go to jail for stealing? Because with all those muscles and tattoos, I’m surprised you weren’t caught sooner,” and he’s leaning closer, breath warming your lips and your blood alike, boiling under your skin as if he had set you on fire without lying a single finger on you. 

“Didn’t take you to be one to admire me, little one, after all, I’m just your neighbors’ uncle aren’t I? Jailbird, criminal, fucking lowlife, right? And his fingers ghost over your jaw, “but I don’t see you pulling away, do I?” 

And you aren’t. But why aren’t you? Every brain cell is telling you to fucking run, but your body wants nothing more than to lean into his touch, to give in, let yourself be engulfed by him—

The creak of the door has you jumping back, “hey, you forgot your shoes—“ Choso starts, and his gaze snaps between you and Sukuna. 

“Thanks, Cho,” you slip past Sukuna, grabbing your shoes, “i was wondering what I did with them,” you step into your shoes, cheeks still burning as you can’t quite meet your best friend’s eyes, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

And you’re gone without another word, the silence of your exit hanging overhead as the screen door clicks closed behind you. Sukuna watches you leave, and as he turns he’s met with a glare from Choso. 

Sukuna only gives a gruff chuckle, walking past as he lets his shoulder bump against Choso’s, “What are you fucking looking at?” 

And now he had visited you in your dreams too. 

“S’fucking wet,” Sukuna has you pinned down with one hand, face hovering over your drenched cunt, as he toyed with it, tugging your folds apart to let some of your pre drip onto your bedspread, “fucking slut, you were begging for this, weren’t you?” 

And a thick digit sinks into you with little resistance, making your back arch as pleasure rips up your spine, “fuck off,” you manage, between pants. 

“I know, brat, that’s what I’m trying to do,” he laughs, as he works a second finger inside you with practiced ease, “like I was made to fuck this cunt open, my fingers are already fucking drenched, and all I’ve done is open you up,” and to punctuate his point, he’s scissoring his fingers to stretch your walls out, dragging against them, as your mouth falls open in a silent moan. 

“A-ah, please—“ and he’s grinning now, a purr as he leans down to meet your blown out gaze. His fingers begin to fuck you open, his thumb rubbing against your clit as your body rocked against his hand. And a grunt has you looking at him, only to see him palming his erection, slit dripping with precum, “Sukuna, please—“ 

“Knew you’d be a good girl f’me, good little slut gonna break my fingers in two,” and his other hand spanks your clit, “now cum,” 

And you do, muscles clenching as you do, a cry of his name on your lips that does nothing but stroke his ego, your orgasm soaking his hand. Eyes fluttering open to find him licking your release from his fingers, as his other hand undoes his pants and tugs down his boxers, his cock already dragging against your still twitching cunt. 

“Fuck,” you mumble, under your breath, and he only smiles. 

“Now you’re getting it, baby.” 

And your alarm jolts you awake, you stare at your ceiling, watching the ceiling fan spin, while you glance at your side to find nothing but your comforter beside you. Not to mention, as you shifted, feeling the telltale stickiness of your arousal and the dull throbbing of your cunt, the aftermath of your dream — your very wet dream. 

“Fuck,” you say, this time out loud and to no one but yourself. This was going to be a problem, if you let this go on. And you couldn’t. Not after the last time — you swing your feet over the edge of the bed and stand, glancing back at the stain of your pre that you flipped your comforter over — and not after that. 

“Have you been avoiding me?” 

Yes, you have done a good job. Until now. 

You gritted your teeth, as you stood in the doorway of the room. But how could you have avoided him in the guest room of the house he lived in? 

And as he loomed in the doorway of the kitchen, dwelling in the shadow of his form, you were kicking the ass of past you, the one that had convinced you it was okay to stay over because Sukuna had been out. 

“Had” being the operative word. 

It had been a few days since you had found yourself at the Itadoris. And more than a few days since you had found yourself dreaming of Sukuna — waking up with his name on your tongue and your panties uncomfortably drenched. You had gone through more underwear this week than you had in a month. And it didn’t help that you felt the need to get off once you did wake, the ache between your thighs was too much to bear before sleep. 

And now here was the subject of your dirty dreams darkening your doorway, as if your dreams were some naughty prophecy waiting to unfold (though you were sure he could fold you). 

“What are you talking about?” 

And you knew exactly what he was talking about. You had made sure Sukuna wasn’t around when you came over (the absence of his motorcycle is a telltale sign), and always left before he returned. But tonight you made the mistake of drinking with Choso, the two of you finishing two bottles of sake before being completely fucked. 

Your head was spinning — you could barely have made it to the bathroom, much less your home. Choso had corralled you into taking his bed, before going and collapsing on his couch. It had been only a few hours into the night before you got up in a haze of confusion with your mouth drier than the Sahara. You pulled yourself up, slipped on thin sleep shorts that you had thrown off at some point due to the summer humidity, before finding your way to the door. 

You made your way to the kitchen, the squeak of the fridge as you pulled it open to grab a water bottle. And that’s when he spoke. 

“And here you are,” and the water bottle nearly slipped from your grasp, “no need to jump, brat, I’m not a monster or a shadow,”

No, but he’s so much worse, he’s real. 

“I was just getting something to drink,” you murmur, and he tilts his head, as he takes a step closer. 

“Just water?’ That’s not the kind of drink you still owe me,” and why was his presence so intoxicating? Several drinks in and you could still hold your own, still speak in complete sentences, and even make your way home on foot. But Sukuna comes near, and suddenly you can barely form a fucking syllable, your limbs feel far too heavy, and your body is nearly burning, as if he had turned your blood to wine without any miracle needed. 

No, it was more of a curse. 

“I don’t remember owing you anything,” and he’s tilting his head, amusement flickering across his lips, a step closer and then another, until you’re utterly engulfed in his presence. You can smell the mix of exhaust and sweat off of him from his motorcycle ride, the way his jaw tenses as if he is holding himself back from taking a bite, and the way his gaze pierces into you as if he has you pinned like a butterfly under glass. 

“Do I need to give you a reason?” And when his fingers ghosted over your swell of your cheek, a featherlight brush from rough, calloused skin that makes a shiver roll down your body, “didn’t think I had to with the way you were nearly melting into my touch when I saw you last, girl,” 

“I wasn’t the one begging for me to be there,” and he clicks his tongue derisively, and you wonder what else he can do with it, before his fingers grip your chin roughly, forcing your gaze to his. 

“Tch, so pleased with yourself just for resisting, are you, sweetheart?” he tilts his head, while his other hand slithers down your side until he finds your waist and tugs you close, lips hanging close, a forbidden fruit begging you to take a bite, “imagine how good you’d feel if you gave in,” and you almost do, melting into his touch, as if you were made to fit in his arms, leaning up so you could feel the warm breath of his welcome—

SLAM! 

You’re sent stumbling back again, clearing your throat, as the sounds of footsteps grow close, and Yuji wanders into the kitchen, mouth pulled open by his yawn, as he blinks as he spots the two of you. 

“Hey, I thought you were asleep upstairs,” he walks past the two of you to grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, and sparing a short glance at Sukuna, “and I thought you had plans,” 

“Plans can change, brat,” Sukuna sighs, his eyes still trained on you — a homing missile with a target, and Yuji was an obstacle in the way, “shouldn’t you go back to bed?” 

“I could ask you two the same,” he leaned against the kitchen counter for a moment, while you only shook your head. 

“I’m going to go to bed,” your only exit opportunity and you’d take it — there had been enough mistakes made, and you didn’t need another to add to the list, and you’re slipping back into your room without another word. 

You don’t see the way Sukuna glares at his nephew, cursing the day of his existence with only his eyes, only gaining a confused stare in return, “What? Ow!”

And you’re only left questioning why Yuji is holding a bag of ice to his head the next morning. 

But you knew you couldn’t avoid Sukuna forever — and you couldn’t avoid how you felt either.

Especially when he gave you exactly what you wanted — space. You had barely seen him for the next week, the former criminal making himself scarce, apparently telling his brother that he had grown tired of “rooming with a bunch of brats,” and had found himself another place to stay for a while. 

Jin had sighed when you had asked over breakfast a day or so after he left, “I don’t know how long he’ll be gone, but we’ll see. The only requirement of his release was to stay in the prefecture—” 

“And that’s already far too close,” Yuji muttered under his breath, earning a sharp look from his dad, “so we don’t even know if he’ll be back huh?” 

Jin shrugs, as he sips his coffee, “I don’t know — your uncle isn’t one to stay in one place — unless there’s something that he wants,” 

“I’ll take any amount of time that he’s not here,” Choso shakes his head, offering you a small smile, “and this way you can stay over in the guest room now,” 

“Yeah, true,” you offered a weak smile, as you continued to pick at your food. This was good news, things were going back to normal, but even so, as you pushed your food on your plate — why did your chest ache so much? 

“Yuck, do people’s heads really explode like that?” Yuji sat with the two of you in the living room, TV playing the movie Yuji had chosen, shoveling popcorn by the fistful. 

“How would we know that?” you snort, stealing popcorn from his bowl, “why did you even choose this movie anyway?” 

“He heard there was a Megan Thee Stallion cameo in it,” and Yuji’s cheeks flushed, visible even in the dim illumination of the TV, as he got to his feet. 

“I’m gonna get a drink, do you two want anything?” And you both shake your heads, as you stifle your chuckle. 

“You wanna stay over tonight?” Choso asks, and you tilt your head, toying with a popcorn kernel between your fingers. 

You shrug, “we’ll see,” your eyes drift back to the movie, but you feel the creak of the bed as he shifts. 

“You don’t have been avoiding staying over, even though it’s just us,” Fuck, your eyes still found themselves on the screen instead of him, anywhere but him, and you can hear the unspoken words — even though Sukuna is not here, “are you sure we’re good?” 

And you couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t him that was bothering you. It wasn’t him keeping you up at night, it wasn’t him who had been tempting you the last few weeks, and it wasn’t him that you wanted to see — no matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, even to yourself. 

So you don’t.  

You smile as best you can, “Everything’s fine, Choso,” and he frowns, still unsure, and you know there’s only one thing that will assure him, if only a little, “I’ll stay over,” 

And so you end up in the guest room — far too late. Even though Sukuna no longer lingered here, his scent still did, even with the sheet change and the small amount of his things gone, he was still very much here. 

And it did little for your sleep. Or maybe too much. 

Again, you dreamt of him, his large palms dragging down your sides, lips pulled in a smirk that he pressed to the hollow of your throat before it’s consumed by a flash of canines that pinch and tease the softness of your flesh. 

“S’fucking wet,” he huffs a chuckle out, “such a little slut, been wanting this for far too long haven’t you?” And he’s undoing your robe with ease, a single tug has your body revealed to him, “haven’t even laid a finger on you and look at the mess you’ve made,” he clicks his tongue, and a whine parts your lips, “already whining like a bitch?” 

He shoves two fingers inside you, a gasp ripped from your throat, thick digits stretching your walls, clenching around the intrusion, “Sukuna—please,” 

“Silly girl,” he murmurs in your ear, “I’m not even the one touching you now,” and fantasy melts into reality as his hand cups your chin, eyes fluttering open, “but I know I can make you cum faster than any dream,” 

Wait. What? 

And suddenly the touch down your body feels all too real, pain ribboning from the fingers squeezing your hips hard, and a gasp as your body trembles, still caught between sleep and reality. Your body can’t move, but it’s not the weight of your own limbs keeping you still. 

Your eyes shoot open completely, sleep shed completely from your mind. 

And you found Sukuna, his lips curled in a smile that was far too familiar from other sleepless nights. But was it? Or was it another dream that he had invaded, far too real as you slept in his bed, rather than your own. 

Your hand reaches out for him shakily, fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw, “Is this real?” you mutter, more to yourself, but he takes it upon himself to answer, his hand darting out to curl around your wrist, squeezing, while the other holds himself up, mattress creaking a divot where his hand pressed in, body heat all too close. 

“Want me to pinch you? Can’t say it’ll be the cheek you’re thinking of,” he chuckles, unable to meet his gaze, “don’t go acting like a shy virgin now, woman. You’re the one having wet dreams about me,” 

“No, I-I, it wasn’t—“ but your brain is short circuiting and his laugh that rumbles against you tells you he’s enjoying this far too much, “what are you doing here? I thought you left,” the statement comes out far too biting, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“I did, but it was just for a week. I had some business to deal with,” and a grin pulls at his lips, “why? Did you miss me, brat? Is that why you’re dreaming of me?” 

You’re squirming underneath him trying to look anywhere but him, “I’m not, it wasn’t—“ and he only hums, dragging a hand down your front, until he’s reaching your shorts, a brief pause to see if you’d pull away, but you don’t, and fingers pressing against your soaked shorts. 

“That why you’re soaked through your fucking shorts?” And the rough pads of his fingers grind against your eager hole, nearly swallowing you in, only the thin fabric of your shorts keeping his fingers from fucking you then and there, “least your body’s honest — so eager to get fucked,” and he’s teasing your drenched entrance, drawing his fingers back to have your pre like spiderwebs between the two digits. 

“Sukuna, please—“ and his lips curl. 

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll go,” a small whine left your throat, the throbbing between your thighs growing with the way his gaze undid you — unscrewed you by your hinges and watched you fall apart, only to ask you to put yourself back together. 

But you couldn’t. Not without him. 

“Sukuna—“ 

“I didn’t ask you to whine, are you going to answer my question—-“ 

“Fuck me,” the words fall from your lips as if possessed, and you can’t find it in you to regret them. 

And he smiles all the same. 

“About fucking time,” and his fingers meanly rub against your clit through the paper thin fabric of your shorts, “didn’t even fucking put on panties and you expect me to think you didn’t want me fuck you open,” and embarrassment burns at your cheeks, “did you get this wet from dreaming about me?” And no words come to your mind, and he gives you a sharp spank to your clothed slit, drawing a sharp gasp to your lips and slick flooding from your folds, “better use your words, woman,” 

“Fuck, please, I need—“ and his fingers practically rip your shorts off, letting your cunt gush onto the sheets. 

“Need me to fuck you that bad? G’nna beg this criminal to fuck you open?” And he’s toying with your folds, tugging your tight hole apart as his eyes rake over your pussy, exposed for him, “after all of your teasing, what makes you think you even deserve to be fucked? Maybe I should leave you like this, fingers buried in your cunt, wishing they were your neighbor’s uncle’s,” and a sadistic smile graces his features as it only can his, “fuck yourself for me,” 

You whimper, as his fingers leave your hole, clenching around nothing as if begging for his touch, “what? But—“ 

“Fuck yourself until you cum, wanna see what you’ve been doing when you’re fucking me in your sleep,” the absence of his touch leaves you keening and needy, for something, anything to get you off. Want overcomes inhibition, and your shaky fingers find their way to your cunt, fingertips tracing the outer lips, a gasp you barely recognize as your own when you rub against your clit, “c’mon girl, gotta open yourself up for me — think I’ll fit if you just rub yourself like that?” And he’s pressing his clothed erection against your thigh — and he’s fucking big — rock hard cock rubbing against you through damp damp sweatpants. 

And his fingers grabs your own, guiding them to your slick hole, letting them slip past your fluttering walls, while his own teased your outsides, “Good girl,” and the praise makes your walls clench, and he’s chuckling, “want to be a fucking good girl, then fuck yourself until I see you cum for me,” 

You swallow your whines, beginning to move your fingers in and out, your insides clinging to you, as if begging for something longer, thicker, better — and you knew his fingers would be. A moan falls from your lips, and he clicks his tongue. 

“Gotta be rougher than that,” and his fingers curl around the base of your own, using your fingers as a glorified fuck toy. Your head lolled back, as he controlled the pace of your fingers, fucking you hard and fast, reaching places you didn’t think were possible with your fingers, “that’s it, you’re close aren’t you? Like being fucked with your own fingers, don’t you, you slut?” And you’re shuddering, soft cries and moans filling the silence of the night with the loud squelch of your cunt. 

“Sukuna, f-fuck, ngh, I can’t—“ and he only begins to rub on your clit with his thumb. 

“Yes you can,” he gruffly chuckles, murmuring in your ear as he leans forward, “cum on your fingers like you have every night for me,” and he forces your gaze to meet his as your fingers brush that one spot that has your back arching, “say my name,” 

And you do, cumming hard around your fingers, as he uses them to fuck you through your orgasm, the wet noises of your folds growing louder as your thighs shake. Your eyes meet his, glassy with tears from your high, and Sukuna leans down to lick the salty tear from your cheek. 

He pulls your fingers from inside you, your sticky cum coating your digits and even dripping onto his own. He smirks as he eyes them, before sliding them into his mouth. A moan pulled from your lips as he sucks your essence clean from them, tongue dragging up the length of your fingers. 

“Shit, that was a nice moan,” and his eyes fall back to your drenched cunt, “Still so fucking tight,” he clicks his tongue, Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly? G’nna have to fix that,” as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.” 

he hums, taking in your ruined state — tear stained cheeks, your dripping cunt, and your red ruined lips from biting them, “so fucking pretty like this,” and you hear him shift, the distinct sound of his phone camera, making your eyes snap open. 

“No, fuck, no don’t—“ and he’s turning the screen around to show you how absolutely fucked you look, “please—“ 

“It’s a little too late for that, can’t have anyone buying your little virgin act anymore huh?” he’s grinning as he leans forward, pinning your thighs in place as you try to squirm away, “don’t move,” 

His order makes your muscles tense, unable to move your body under the heavy grasp of his hands splayed against your hips. The pads of his fingers dig into your soft flesh, as his lips dare closer to your weeping slit. 

“Fuck, are you a virgin though? You’re still so fucking tight even after that little show you put on for me,” and he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, his breath warming your twitching cunt, “either way, you won’t be one soon,” and he’s burying his mouth in your pussy. 

You moan, covering your mouth before he sucks on your clit, tongue teasing your hole open, a wave of heat flooding your body. The sounds of his licking and slurping fill your ears — and you wonder how the whole house isn’t awake yet. 

You can’t stop your hips from nearly fucking his face, but he spanks your thigh, hard, as he pulls his mouth from your dripping slit, “I told you not to move,” and he spanks your clit for good measure, making you yelp against your fingers, “tell me when you’re about to cum,” and you whimper, “or I can open this door and let the house hear us,” 

You nod, but he doesn’t miss the way your slit twitches at the thought, and his mouth curls in a nasty smirk, “such a fucking slut, maybe I will,” and he’s plunging two thick fingers into your greedy cunt, a gasp ripped from your throat at the intrusion, walls fluttering as they attempt to accommodate his digits. But it’s all squeezing and barely any stretch, as his fingers work you open. 

And it doesn’t take long to get you worked up, his digits knuckle deep and dripping wet, “gonna fucking break my fingers in two with your virgin hole, girl,” he grunts, your body burning with his touch alone, nails dragging against your walls, curling so they can bully that sweet spot just right, “you’re gonna cum aren’t you?” the telltale squeeze of your cunt tells him so, and you’re nodding, and his fingers slip from inside. 

You’re whining, tears burning at the corners of your eyes, “Please, fuck, wanna cum,” the pleasure that had built was throbbing, a dam close to bursting but denied its relief, so it remained, begging and waiting — “please, Sukuna—“ 

“So you do know how to beg like a good little whore, gonna fuck you again, but you can’t cum until I tell you,” and he’s sinking three fingers into you now, eyes rolling back as your back arches, but he’s fucking you meanly, curling and twisting his fingers, until the pleasure is a tight knot in your belly, barely hanging on from snapping, “wait,” he grunts, and it’s as if your warmth is made for him — or now it was, because he’s made it his, “wait,” and you’re sure he’s reached your cervix somehow, fingertips reaching places you’ve only dreamed of (literally), and then he leans down lips around your clit as he orders you, “now, cum,” 

And you do, hard, as he sucks around your clit while fucking you through your orgasm, cum flooding his fingers and face alike, drenching him, even as he slurped and sucked up every bit. 

He finally pulls away, a shiver slips down your spine as he slips his fingers from inside you, pink tongue flicking against his lips, still slick with your cum, What a fucking mess you’ve made,” he sneers, but he’s licking his lips clean all the same, “should make you clean up the mess you made, shouldn’t I?” And he’s pressing the pads of his fingers to your lips, you’re too fucked out to fight, lips parting with ease, “suck,” and you do, opening wide to let his fingers inside, lips and tongue curled around the same fingers that had explored your cunt. 

He watched as you obediently sucked every drop of your juices off, a trickle of drool slipping down the corner of your lips makes his already hard cock twitch in his pants, and he’s pulling his fingers from your mouth. 

“Better than your dreams, huh, sweetheart?” he drags his thumb down your bottom lip, he can’t fucking wait a minute longer, “turn around, gonna fuck this slutty princess cunt from behind,” but you only can watch as he tugs down his sweatpants and boxers alike, his cock slapping against his stomach. 

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you had imagined. Mushroom tip red and hard, as pretty veins run up the sides, and he was looking as if he’d not only split you open, but break you all together. 

Your thighs quaked at the thought, more slick slipping from your needy cunt — and you wanted him to.  

Your knees shake, as you turn slowly, much too slowly his pace, and he grunts, his hands gripping your hips, as he flips you onto your stomach, a yelp leaving your lips as you bounce on the mattress. “have to fuckin’ do everything myself for this whore’s pussy,”

You’re gripping the sheets, nails surely tearing holes in the thin fabric of the sheets, as his calloused palm comes down on your ass, hard, the smack echoing in the silence of the night, a mewl you don’t recognize as your own, “Sukuna, please, I can’t—“ 

“You can, you’ll take whatever I give you, brat,” and another smack finds your ass again, as he pinches the flesh for good measure, drawing another moan from your lips and another chuckle from his, “and you’ll take this cock too,” and he doesn’t spare you a moment as he presses his swollen, dripping cockhead to your drenched hole, smearing his pre all over your ass — as if to erase any doubt you were his, because there wasn’t — before finally sliding in. 

God, fuck. 

Your arms were already shaking, barely able to hold yourself up, but your face nearly plants into the mattress as he sinks into you — he was too fucking big. Even all the prep he had given you was nothing, nothing compared to how much his dick was stretching your cunt. 

He hummed, as your insides swallowed him eagerly, even with the slight resistance of your tight little pussy, watching as your walls parted for him with almost practiced ease, sucking him deeper and deeper, as if you were made for him. And you would be, after he fucked your cunt to his shape again and again — because this was far from the last time he would take you. 

It was only the first. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight — am I the first to fuck this pussy?” he grunts, grasping your hips tightly, your warm, wet pussy wrapped around his dick — he had waited far too long for this, too many nights spent grasping at his cock, thinking how much better it would be buried in your pussy. 

“H-hngh, Sukuna, s’big,” you’re nearly babbling as he works himself into you, inch by inch, not even halfway in, and you were gonna cum just from him putting his dick in, “can’t fit—” and he’s scoffing, watching you squirm against his length, but he only continues to fuck his way into your tight hole, another sharp slap to your ass as a warning. 

“I’ll make it fit, girl,” he growls — like fuck he was stopping now that’s gotten this far, there was only one way this was ending — and it was with his cock fucking you full of his cum, “c’mon, did the dream not compare to the reality? Did you think I had a tiny dick?” and he thrusts shallowly against you, sending another inch inside your already stuffed folds, drawing a needy whine from your throat, “so fucking loud, you gonna let the whole house know what we’re doing at this rate,” 

he murmurs, bending down to your ear, and your walls squeeze around him, a vice grip that has him nearly cumming then and there, but no he won’t, not yet, “fuck, did you think about letting Choso know? Maybe I’d let him watch me fuck you, only way he’ll ever see you like this,” and you whimper as he slams into you, finally bottoming out as his tip bullies your womb, making you cry out against your fingers, “to think the pretty girl next door is on her hands and knees like a slut for me now, getting split open by my dick. What would Choso think?”

You’re whining, “Please, fuck, slow down—” but he only pulls out a little to piston back in, balls slapping against your ass as he does, setting a mean pace, as he chuckles in your ear. 

“You’re saying that, but we both know that’s not what you want — slutty fucking pussy trying break my cock in two,” the sounds of your skin slapping against you as his tip brushes against your cervix rings in your ear, even as he murmurs in it, “y’’know he wants to fuck you right? The little brat is always watching you, nearly fisting himself at the sight of you,” he’s forcing you upwards, pressing your back to his chest, “he wants you, but he’ll never have you, because this pussy is mine,” and his hand finds the bulge in your stomach, pressing down, as you keen, head falling back against his shoulder, as tears pooled in your pretty eyes, “but he’d never be able to reach here and fuck you like you want — like a whore,” his other hand pinches and teases your pebbled nipples, before sliding up to your neck, squeezing lightly, “say you’re mine,” 

You can’t find the words, all of them fucked out of your body to make room for his cock seemingly — the only words remaining his name and “please,” but you have to do better than that, and he slows his pace to nothing, as he pulls out so only his tip teases your entrance, a whine leaving your pathetic mouth.

“If you’re not mine, guess I don’t need to let you finish, do I?” and you’re shaking your head, frantic and repentant. 

“I’m yours, i’m yours, Sukuna, please—” and he’s sliding right back into you, fucking you harder, balls slapping against your ass and sweet cunt swallowing him up to the base, a white ring of your pre cum forming around it — and he just knows you’re close, by the twitch of your sweet pussy — and his hand reaches around to rub at your clit,  “I’m—” 

And he ruts into you, hard and deep that you’re sure his length brushes against your womb — and you’re cumming, falling apart around him, but he doesn’t relent — but had he ever? He didn’t relent over these past few weeks, and he wouldn’t now, not until he was filling you up and watching his cum drip out of your hole—

You’re slipping back forward, face forward into the pillow and mattress, as he grunts watching your slick drip down your ass and thighs and onto the sheets — his balls tense with his release, “Fuck—” and that’s all the warning you get before he slams back into you to bottom out, as he blows his load. 

His release is hot as it fills you up, never ending it seems as he slowly fucks you through his orgasm, his spurts slowing with time, until he’s finally stilling, a soft grunt, as he pulls himself from inside your warm cunt. A soft groan at the sight of his seed spilling from inside you — you’re boneless and spent, until he has you jolting forward from the press of his fingers gathering his cum and stuffing it back in. 

“Kuna, fuck, I can’t—” and he scoffs, retracting his fingers for a moment, before he’s deftly flipping you onto your back, “too sensitive,” you whine as his fingers work their way back into you. 

“Did you think I was done, woman?” and his softening erection is already standing tall again, and you’re almost wanting his fingers now at this point, even as your body disagrees, pussy squeezing at the thought of him buried inside you again. He leans forward, lips brushing against yours, a kiss full of nothing of tongue and teeth, the faint taste of your own release on his lips, “we’re far from done.” 

The sound of your name catches your attention, your eyes snapping up from your breakfast, “what?” 

“Are you okay? Choso frowns at you, as he holds his rice bowl, the rolled tamago sliced on his plate, “you look tired,” It was another morning like always, but 

You shake your head, “I just didn’t sleep well, I kept waking up from my dreams,” and it wasn’t exactly a lie — yesterday was the culmination of a million dreams you had. Dreams that only ended when the sun began to come up, with his cock still buried in your cunt as you rode him, back pressed to his chest, as he worked you up and down his dick. 

And finally when he came again, this time all over your back, he finally pressed kisses up and down his back, easing himself out, as his toned arms engulfed you. 

“Should clean up and I should head to Jin’s room,” he murmurs, “I have a feeling I won’t have a place to live if he finds me in here,” and you chuckle, too fucked out and tired, “we’ll have to get used to sneaking around. 

“Oh will we?” you had mumbled, and he answered your question with another bruising kiss to your lips. 

Yuji tilts his head, scratching it, as you lift your glass to take a sip of water, mouth far too dry now, “Is that what those noises were? It sounded like you were having nightmares,” and you nearly choke on it, but force it down, hoping the embarrassment wasn’t evident on your face, stabbing your egg. 

“Yeah, I had a couple last night,” you lied, and even as you suddenly found your breakfast far too interesting, you could feel Choso’s gaze still on you — your cheeks burning as Sukuna’s words about him still rung in your ears — along with the distinct ache between your legs and on your ass he left behind, “I’m fine, I’m just going to need a nap,” 

“You’re not the only one, girl,” Sukuna walks into the kitchen from the rooms, as Yuji and Choso balk at his presence. 

Choso’s eyes narrow, “What are you doing here?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sukuna’s eyes find yours, the corner of his lip pulled upwards, as his gaze rakes over your form, “what’s for breakfast?” and you knew he only wished that you were the thing placed on the table for him to eat. Jin barely pays any mind, too preoccupied on his phone with his work email, as he passes a plate to Sukuna. 

“When did you even get in?” Yuji asks, as he finishes his own breakfast, leaning back on his two palms. And your insides begin to tie themselves in knots at all of these questions — knowing Sukuna would like nothing more than to tell them exactly what he was doing last night. 

“And where did you sleep?” Choso glares, adding fuel to the fire, as Sukuna looks down on him, lips a thin line,  “you didn’t bother our guest, did you?” and your cheeks burn all the same, a flicker of amusement on Sukuna’s features, lips parting only for Jin to cut in.

“He got in early this morning. He slept in my room,” Jin says with a sigh, “Don’t you two have to get ready? You’re going to your mom’s this morning,” 

“She’s not my mom,” Choso grumbles under his breath, “more like a leech,” but he still gets to his feet all the same, as Yuji follows suit, picking up their plates, a comforting hand on his older brother’s shoulder. 

“I should get to work,” Jin sighs, sparing a sharp glance at his brother, “behave,” and he turns to you, “feel free to stay as long as you want. Yuji and Choso will be back this afternoon,” 

And the three of them find their way out of the house, a rush of bags and feet, as Choso spares a glance at you. 

“I’ll be back soon — you can hang out in my room if you want,” Choso says, before scowling at Sukuna, “let me know if you need anything,” and you nod, waving him off, and the door shuts behind them all. 

Sukuna slides into place beside you, sitting as the two of you eat breakfast in relative silence. You finish up your meal, and move to get up, but Sukuna’s hand finds its way onto your thigh, holding you in place. 

“Are you done?” and you glance at him, plate empty and food untouched, “with eating?” 

“I am,” you raise an eyebrow, “And you?” 

“My appetite wants something else, sweetheart,” he leans forward, fingers inching higher until his thumb grazes your inner thigh. 

“And what’s that?” and he nearly growls his next words, thin patience already tearing in two, just as he would your clothes if you weren’t careful. 

“I’m done playing coy, woman,” he’s lifting you with ease, slinging you over his shoulder as you gasp, and he’s gotten you on top of the counter, the very same counter you had baked cookies on the day he had arrived, but now his hulking body was quickly pressing your legs apart, “there’s only one thing I want to eat in this kitchen, and it’s between your fucking thighs.” 

“Not sick of it yet?” you chuckle. 

“Think I could bury myself in your slutty pussy for days and not get sick of it,” and he looms over you, just as he had that first day, and he leans down to kiss you, stealing the logic from your mind and leaving only the need for his touch behind, “it is the sweetest thing I ever tasted after all.” 

“Really?” and he smirks, as his fingers dig into the fabric of your shorts ripping them and your panties down, the cool air against your already wet cunt. 

“Want me to prove it?” 

And oh, he would. Again and again. 

✧ a/n: i have a problem. i really wanted to write something with degradation ok?

✧ taglist: , @k0z3me , @monstrousbuu , @abiiebibie , @strawmariee , @luciiferslover , @sxnkuna , @psychxbby , @addehehe , @cpu1d , @dreamtardisspace , @authorintheshadows666 , @arcielee , @trxnmagic , @smilk01 , @abcdbleh , @elisaj313-blog , @jinslunv , @n3ptunxe , @pinkyvomit , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @rat-loves , @spider-fan72 ,, @niks1673 , @lafffyyytafffyyy , @miseraa , @astraxa-xx , @fushitoru , @hanxyy , @milky-milkyway , @nakariabnrb , @johannakhalafalla , @tojicvmbucket , @flyingtranscatofeffed , @vampzys , @caelestine-the-caelicatto , @hatsunemitskislobotomy , @k1ttybean , @catsgomurp , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone , @forest-fruits-jam , @mua-for-now , @pricetagofficial

this eats

Infinity.

CHAPTER 1.

JJK x READER

SUMMARY: In every universe, Ryomen Sukuna will find you, whether it is by chance or not. But only time can tell if you awake to discover your doomed fate.

WARNINGS: sad tones, mentions of hard labor, the concubines are rude and abusive, mentions of mold, aguri is very playful, sukuna has a bride, reader gets beat up and belittled, reader is too aware but not too knowledgeable on their world, some heavy hints to Sukuna’s ultimate control over his people

MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

TAGLIST (slashed means could not be tagged): @xhoneymoonx134 @ofcqdesi

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i. endless

The work gets easier the longer you do it. The constant bending of your knees, elbows, and back becomes almost natural the longer you spend dragging rotten mattresses, tossing dirty sheets, and folding those dreadful covers.

You’ve also learned that harsh, morbid environments like the living quarters of your fellow maids bring disgusting conditions to the rooms.

A certain type of fungi has begun to creep into the corners of the rooms and under the beds. You’ve found the darkness serves as an outstanding breeding ground for this fuzzy, green bacteria with speckles of white that act as pores.

The sight makes you sick to your stomach.

But a part of you wonders if the living quarters above for the men who kill the spirits and the king’s favored subordinates are bright with life. Maybe life grows there— maybe bonsais and cherry blossoms litter the windowstills and butterflies flutter inside and outside their rooms. Maybe creatures like rabbits and foxes settle inside when the sun is too warm, and the subordinates of Lord Sukuna get to relish in their presence.

“(Name)!” You turn your head, grasping the ends of the gray sheets and bunching them as you rise.

A beaming Aguri pops her head into the frame of the doorway. The end of her headband is falling from her hair, letting strands loose to rest against her cheeks. The ratty accessory was meant to be a pure, pristine white, but with years of cleaning soot and dust, it has become a murky grey, nearly a dirty black.

“Shouldn’t you be cleaning the kitchen? The cooks are out on their break,” you rub your cheek with the collar of your uniform. “Uraume won’t be pleased if she sees you here.”

“Uraume is never pleased no matter what I do,” she moves towards you, lunging at you when you begin to move up to meet her. Together, you both tumble into the pile of dirty bedsheets and pillows covers that decorate the floor. She giggles as you groan in pain. “As long as my duties get done on time, there shouldn’t be an issue.”

The back of your head throbs against the itchy material of threaded cloth. “If you say so, Aguri.”

She grins, smushing her head into the crook of neck. She inhales deeply, before releasing a slow breath.

“Are you smelling me?” you grab her shoulder, tugging at her sleeve in an attempt to remove her from your side. “What are you, a dog?”

Aguri makes no movement, but merely holds on tighter. When she speaks, her voice is quieter. “What if I was a hound? Like one of Lord Sukuna’s.”

“Why would you ever want that?” you frown. The absurd statement is not anything new from Aguri, but it is the tone she holds that sets you aback.

She doesn’t get quiet or melancholic often. Even when she spoke about the grimmer things in her life or her past, she didn’t dim as much as now.

“Maybe, I would be treated better,” she sighs. “You know, they always need those dogs. The blood-hunting ones that they send out to attack traitors or find enemies. And they feed them well— the chefs give them some of the nicest meat I’ve seen… but that stake isn’t very high.”

You understand. Meat is a rarity to the poor, but a normalcy to the rich. The wealthy gorge on the finest slices of beef, chicken, pork, and any fatty animal they can find.

The poor cannot eat anything but crumbs. Bread, if they can make it. Cheese if they can get a goat or trade for it. And for most, scraps of berries or bits of rotten vegetables tossed out serve as their only food source.

There are people outside who run into estate’s dumping grounds daily. You’ve watched as they fished out slivers of carrot peels or orange centers and devoured as much as they could.

They would be killed if they were caught. They would be humiliated by all the kingdom and even the town, despite how poor they are as well.

You’ve see the bodies, sometimes. In the kitchen with the staff, with Uraume holding the knife, cutting the limbs. The chefs look green with disgust at the sight of a body being torn, boiled, and seasoned. It’s a blessing that Lord Sukuna has designated Uraume to be his main chef when it comes to humans.

You’re not sure anyone truly human could handle it. But you know for a fact, Uraume is not. And neither is Lord Sukuna.

But you’re not sure what they are, either.

“It must be nice to be cared for,” you murmur, your hands threading into Aguri’s hair. “To be well fed, groomed, and treated like royalty. Their bedding must be nicer as ours. Made out of pure cotton and sewn with the finest of threads. Pure white, like the sheeps and bunnies in our dreams.”

Your fingers tug against tangles, curves, and bumps. It’s a comforting motion for you, and her. To feel the gentleness of another person, instead of the harsh treatment you both are constantly subjected to.

The hard labor, yelling, and constant threat of death. It’s overwhelming and drowning. It’s dispiriting and crushing. Most here die at their 20s. The average life expectancy is one’s early 40s.

It’s the stress that kills them the fastest. And the slaughtering of them in the masses, as well.

Aguri whines, kneeing you in the side. “Why did you stop? I was getting comfortable!”

You squeeze your eyes shut, before a pained smile grows on your face.

You wish she would never have to worry about her life. You wish you could protect Aguri with your life, and that would be enough.

“How about we sneak into the kitchen? I heard the head baker made some new pastries with a special strawberry cream.”

Aguri perks, staring at you with wide eyes. “Can we?”

You wink. “As long as we don’t get caught.”

In an instant, she tugs at your arm and pulls you up, sprinting out of the room.

Her laughter is all you need to match her pace.

I hope you stay like this forever, Aguri.

ii. bastion

Lord Sukuna marries Akazome Emon on the night of your birthday.

You have the pleasure of preparing for the ceremony. The tables, the food, and all the decorations are overseen by Uraume, while the maids of the estate fulfill the duty of beautifying the already breathtaking garden where the celebration will be held.

The wedding has no more than fifty guests. It’s small, for a king as powerful as him— but it’s fitting and understandable.

Lord Sukuna has enemies who drool at the chance to even brush shoulders with him. To be able to infiltrate his palace is a feat that no man or woman has ever achieved. All concubines are checked thoroughly and every servant goes through a lengthy process before they are admitted to work for the king.

But the news of his bride will spread quickly. The parchments will fly and the whispers of mothers will flood the ears of the neighboring kingdoms.

His Queen will become an immediate target as a way to crumble his spirit and overthrow his authority. Riots will begin in the streets, and wars will rebirth.

In a matter of hours, the world will be in chaos once Lord Sukuna marries his bride.

Though, a small voice in the back of your head believes that the king thrives in danger and destruction. It is the motto of the Sukuna estate.

You purse your lips, staring at the sheer sheets that line the wooden poles now cemented into the corners of the garden. Tree peonies line the ends of the box-like structure, while chrysanthemums are sparsely dispersed around the seats.

The gardeners are exceptional at their job, you crouch to inspect the flowers. Your eyes trace over the delicate ridges of the baby pink in the peonies, and the fluffs of white in their centers. They are beautiful, bright, and voluminous; fit for royalty.

The maids have gossiped about the bride’s bouquet after one of the florists had dropped the sketch of the design on the garden’s ground.

It appears that her bouquet will be filled with nippon daisies at the center and lavender rimming the daisies. It was an odd choice for a woman as exquisite as Akazome Emon to have such common flowers be the choice for her bouquet— especially for them to be the kinds of flowers the poorest of the kingdom eat.

You wonder if her choice of flowers mean something greater than just to look nice, but you’ll never know. The privilege of accessing books was never one you had.

It wasn’t like you could even read or write to begin with.

“Work faster, Uraume will be out soon! The ceremony must look spotless for our king,” the head maid is running around like a headless chicken, straightening creases and perfectly spacing the seats from each other. Maids back out of her way as she sways around, screaming orders at anyone who looks her way. The flock of you are sent scattering as guards begin to enter the grounds.

For such a wonderful day, the workers of the estate are tense and on edge.

“Did you hear that Lady Emon appointed Lord Sukuna’s other suitors as his concubines?” Two ladies veiled in crème colored robes brush past you as you adjust the deserts on the table. The material looks smooth and soft— like velvet. It’s a type of cloth you’ve heard Uraume describe to her seamstress about her robes. “For a future Queen, she is keen on throwing any woman she possibly can at the man who will bring her unlimited power.”

Along their necks lies an engraving of blood-red roses lined with heavy, black ink. When the ends of their robes rise, around their ankles rests a gold chain intertwined with bits of lavender.

They must be concubines.

The king was known to lavish his mistresses in the finest of jewels and clothes from raids against neighboring estates.

“What are you looking at?” a nauseatingly saccharine voice snaps. A blur of black and white drops into your view and you stumble backwards. “You stupid whore, who are you to look at me?”

Your mouth runs dry and your tongue becomes heavy. Instantly your head falls to the ground with your hands under your forehead and your eyes squeeze shut. “I’m sorry, my lady. Forgive me, please.”

She scoffs, before yanking at the shoulder of your uniform to bring your face up to hers. Strands of fine, black hair lay across the front of her face, the ends brushing against the white of her makeup. The pigment on her lips is a bright, vibrant red that contrasts the paleness of her face and the darkness of her hair.

She’s breathtakingly deadly.

She must be one of Sukuna’s favorites. Her aura is so fierce, but her features are somehow delicate and sharp.

Her nails dig into your arm and the corners of her lips slide down her face. The iris of her eyes are a deep brown, nearly blackened by the anger that spreads through her body. Her eyebrows are tightly knit, the perfect arch in her brows now flattened into a hard slope.

“You dirty, proletariat brat. You must wish this was the life you lived, huh? You must wish you were worthy of Lord Sukuna the way we are,” she spits as the the tips of her nails dig deeper into your skin. You have no doubt the moment she releases your arm, blood will gush from the indentations of her nails on your skin.

The other concubine steps forward. She’s just as stunning as the other, but her features differ vastly. Instead of a foxy look of slender features and slim eyes, her jaw is soft, her lips are round, and her eyes are wide like a doe’s.

“It’s astonishing that Uraume allowed the scum of the estate to even step outside of the dungeons today,” she frowns, bending down to invade your space. She scans your features, trailing over the dust that clings to the creases of your clothes and the swatch of white paint across the back of your hand.

You’re surprised as well that Uraume allowed you to participate in preparing the ceremony. Despite your promotion, you still worked in the lower parts of the castle, commonly referred to as “the dungeon.” Rats, cockroaches, and snakes are common sights in the halls, and fuzzy spores are found on every end of each room. The maids of your levels speculate that the ground level of the estate is littered with ceramic vases, gold plated portraits, crystalline walls, and the smells of roses and joy.

It’s been awhile since you’ve smelled anything but must and damp walls, hasn’t it?

You bow your head, shutting your eyes. This battle cannot be won— the concubines will win. The aristocracy always succeed, even if they are wrong. It’s an endless cycle engraved in the history of your people. Prosperity and wealth do not come to those born into poverty— it runs in the veins of those fortunate enough to have lived at a time where a man was willing to adopt a boy, or for those who have leeched themselves to the top.

The voice in the back of your head brings you to believe that these two are the latter of the group.

“Now, you want to show some respect?” the concubine tightens her grip around your arm before tossing you back to the ground. A glob of spit lands on your cheek as the other scoffs, kicking your chest. You curl into yourself, clutching your head noiselessly.

The faster this goes, the sooner I can go to finish my duties and head to bed.

You pray someone will step in and separate the two from you; you want nothing to do with these concubines. Their sight of their perfectly primped hair and glassy skin was only supposed to be a glance for your own entertainment, to relish in the joy of the world above you. It was meant to be a taste of a world you would never exist in— a distraction from the harshness of reality that existed inside the walls of the estate.

The sight of the swaying cherry blossoms, the freshness of the grass beneath your feet, and the gentle breeze in your hair were meant to be figments of your imagination that you could play in your head until your final days in the manor. The tulle that surrounded the wooden posts were meant to design the gown in your dreams, in a life where you would find a loving husband and spend the rest of your life with a lover who would destroy the world to merely bring it to your feet.

Now, you recognize that you stepped out of place. You thought too hard and believed too much in an unattainable fantasy. In no life were you destined to be happy.

In no universe did you belong with plates of fluffy, sugary cakes and tender meats and soft cheeses. Doughy breads coated with flour were never meant to be placed on your table for dinner.

Instead, you were meant to eat a bowl of leftover bone broth and a slice of stale brown bread. You would never live to pluck a berry off a bush, or lay in a bed of flowers in the cool evenings.

Those were impossible tales for girls like you. They were realities for women like them.

Please, make this punishment quick and easy. Let me go to my room and speak with Aguri until my mouth runs dry and my eyes close shut. Let me sleep ‘till my next day of cleaning and collect the ribbons and threads of color that Aguri loves.

Let me make it to my room tonight, please. That is all I ask for today and forever.

The last thing you hear before a blow is made to your head is a terrified scream, the crashing of glasses, and the sound of rushing footsteps.

#© platrom, plot / writing / banners & headers. do not repost, reblogs are appreciated! please consider leaving a comment and a heart! <3

ryomen sukuna masterlist

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drabbles:

criminal boyfriend sukuna drabbles + NSFW version w/bonus

what would modern!sukuna be like if he had a crush? (ask)

fics:

a deal with the devil (finished) + part two + part three - you have to make a mutually beneficial agreement with the king of curses. where are you a year later?

sukuna - a deal with the devil pt. 1/3

{to save shibuya, you have to make a mutually beneficial agreement with the king of curses. will he even let you live long enough to try?} 5k words

notes: the reader has an illusion-based curse technique, it's only mentioned once or twice.

warnings: violence, cursing

part one + part two + part three

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Sukuna saw himself as a simple man. He had spent his lifetime working towards becoming the King of Curses. He'd achieved that, and then died. And then he'd had the chance to inspire the fear he hadn't been able to in the Heian period when he was brought back as a curse. 

The first thing he did when he finally managed to consume the pathetic vessel he was in, which was nothing compared to that stupid brave kid he'd been contained in before, was look at his hands. He looked how he'd looked as a human, and his hands were no different. They were strong, powerful, sculpted. Ringed off by the bands of black around his wrists. Hands capable of so much.

Fire!

He let out a laugh as he watched the buildings around him go up in flames. All this effort that humans had put into building these strange, blank cubes of business and residence. All of it, crashing down around him. It was so nice of them to provide a playground for him to get used to his body again.

"Oh, that's not great."

You all turned to look at Satoru, collectively giving him the dirtiest look you could. He rolled his eyes defensively.

"What? We were all thinking it."

Kento took off his blazer and began rolling up his sleeves. "We need to form a plan, now. Before his destruction reaches the populated areas we haven't managed to evacuate. Ijichi and the other managers can't work faster than the King of Curses himself."

Suguru looked at Satoru. "Can you hollow purple him, or something?"

"He won't let me get close enough," Satoru replied. "He won't let any of us get close enough. Our best chance would be managing to surprise attack him, catch him off guard, and then try and win a domain battle."

Suguru frowned. "Do any of us have a domain strong enough?"

You shook your head. "It's more about how long we could keep him in it before he notices. I don't see how we're going to catch someone like him off guard."

Satoru was silent for a few moments. Then he smiled at you. It was the wide, disconcerting smile that Suguru had let him believe was charming. You only got it when he wanted something. You crossed your arms over your chest and waited. "What if... we use you?"

There was a beat of silence. Then Kento nodded slightly. "Use an illusion big enough to catch him off guard. We do have the benefit of your technique not existing in the Heian era. He's unlikely to be able to identify it swiftly."

Suguru nodded. "It could plausibly catch him off guard. You'd have to get his attention and then cast it. And we could decide our strategy differently that way. We could just throw everything at him at once, if you could distract him enough."

You sighed, not hiding that you disliked this plan. "If I die, it's on your fucking hands."

Satoru’s hand hit your back, presumably in a gesture that was meant to be reassuring instead of just wind you. "Don't ask me to pay for your funeral."

And so, while Sukuna was wreaking general havoc across Shibuya, thoroughly enjoying himself, you were reluctantly wandering out into the desolate streets by yourself. You had been pretty resigned to your fate when it was presented to you, but the nerves were starting to hit you full force. Still, you managed to force your feet forwards. About half of Shibuya had been evacuated. Sukuna was heading towards the half that was still populated. You headed towards the abandoned parts so that, when you caught his attention, your probable death wouldn't result in the direct death of hundreds of civilians.

Once you were standing there, you found yourself at a slight loss of what to do. How did you get the attention of someone like the King of Curses? How did you do it in a way that wasn't so similar to a buzzing mosquito that he killed you without looking?

At a lack of anything else to do, you focussed your energy and used your curse technique. You manipulated the concrete in front of you. You made it into a giant arrow pointing downwards and waved it around, grunting slightly at the force it required to move. It was stupid, but you couldn't think of anything else.

You were just beginning to think that it hadn't worked when you felt an overwhelming wave of power. It stunned you for a second. You had never felt this kind of cursed energy before, in such a copious amount. It was obvious that, even though he'd been using all three of his attacks, he was still operating at full force. It was like it didn't even make a difference to him.

Sukuna had to laugh. He jumped down in front of you, watching the arrow melt back into the road. Then he saw you and just burst into laughter. He didn't even bother attacking. 

"Wonderful plan," he chuckled. "Are you fucking stupid? You're the most pathetic sorcerer I've seen all day, and I'm going to destroy you. This is all they have to send me?" He looked up at the sky, hands raised as though he was waiting for a more significant threat to be delivered.

You were rooted in place, briefly wondering if you should be praying or something before he turns around and cleaves you in half. Sukuna turned to look at you again. He was walking casually back and forth, as though his overabundant energy extended to physical. His restlessness almost made him seem like one of your friends, like he was just a normal, slightly overpowered sorcerer. Almost.

"Ah, perhaps this is some sort of trap," he mused. You were terrified, that much was obvious, but he could see the cursed energy rolling off of you. You weren't pathetic. He had misjudged that. But he knew it didn't matter, not to him. You could throw everything you had at him amidst the most well-orchestrated plan in history. He'd still laugh as it fell around him. Because he was stronger, and that was the simple fact of the matter. "I almost pity you."

You managed to force yourself to take a small step forward. The tiny motion broke the seal and you felt your nerves sliding away a little. Still there, ever present, but much less so. It wasn't debilitating anxiety now. You were pretty sure you were about to die, but you were determined to at least do something for the people you cared about before you did.

"The King of Curses."

It was a redundant statement and made you feel stupid as soon as you'd said it. But they were words, and they were words addressed to him. That was enough for him to look at you properly.

"I thought that the King of Curses had, like, four arms and shit," you forced yourself to continue. "And two faces. And, like, a mouth on your stomach."

He didn't leap at you, or start shooting out that stream of fire like before. He crossed his arms and laughed. Laughed because he was a little unsure of what you were doing, and because he still felt sure he could kill you in an instant if he wanted to.

"I guess that you're just not as scary as everybody thinks," you shrugged.

You'd loosened your hands as well as your tongue. From the first word you'd spoken, you had started to let out a steady stream of cursed energy. Luckily for you, you hadn't been fully containing it in your nervous state anyway, so the shift to utilising it wasn't obvious.

And he wasn't noticing.

"I heard that nobody was scared of you at all during the Heian period."

Your fingers twitched slightly, the illusion beginning to subtly take shape around the two of you. You were trying to keep it unnoticeable, but elements had to change for it to be an actual illusion. The buildings were changing shade of grey, the lamps were dulling, the road was becoming black instead of blue. He still wasn't noticing.

"That, compared to the sorcerers of your time, you really weren't anything special."

He looked irritated, but he was still looking at you like you'd look at a fly landing on your arm. He was holding up his hand, ready to strike the bug away, completely unaware that the fly could slip out from under his hand just in time.

And, as you stifled your astonishment that he really isn't noticing, you realised that maybe you could switch the plan slightly to make it easier for the others. You thought of something even more insulting to say so that he wouldn't notice your hands moving as you expanded your domain.

"I guess that's why you're back again, huh? Because you can ease your inferiority complex by attacking defenceless humans, and convince yourself that you're strong and powerful and the King of Curses. Ha, third time's the charm, I guess."

He felt a surge of anger at how perceptive your words were, even though you had no idea who he really was. "You insolent-" Sukuna cut himself off. His eyes narrowed as he looked around. "No," he muttered. "No." Surely... Surely not?

Now that he had realised that he was trapped inside of your domain, you didn't have to manage your cursed energy output so that it remained unnoticeable. You forced more energy out, broadening the boundaries to their maximum. Your domain was the perfect domain for this, you had to admit. It was constantly shifting, so even though he'd registered that he was trapped, you could keep him slightly disoriented. And, since it was barrierless and also an illusion, the only way out of it was to run and hope you reached the edge. You couldn't see Sukuna taking that option because it would seem too cowardly for the King of Curses.

Slowly, Sukuna's eyes met yours. They flashed red and you felt your heart drop. You couldn't do sophisticated attacks and also hold him in here, it was just too much. Especially since you didn't know if the others were going to be able to interject anytime soon. All you had to do was keep him inside the domain for long enough to fall unconscious under the weight of the cursed energy. It seemed unfamiliar enough to him that he didn't have a massively high tolerance, but you couldn't see him losing it just yet.

He started to walk towards you. His movements were slow, but wide, like a cat stalking a mouse. It was hard to believe that you held the power in this situation, but you forced yourself to trust it. It was the only way this would work.

You let him get close. And then, hoping a juvenile attack would catch him off guard, you leapt at him. Sukuna was already wary of you, confused and disoriented by your slow and steady attack. Seeing you literally pouncing on him made him stop short. And, because he was so sure he could toss you off, he didn't react fast enough. Because now you were literally on the King of Curses' back, arms around his neck. He couldn't fucking shake you off.

"What are you-"

Your legs wrapped firmly around his broad frame, ensuring that you couldn't be tossed off. And then you narrowed the domain, focussing everything in the concentrated space the two of you were in. Sukuna's hand had just wrapped around your wrist, either with the intention of straight up snapping it or just throwing you off, both of which should've been effortless for him. And then he fell unconscious.

"Ah-" You fell directly on top of him as he slumped to the ground.

You were too tired to roll off him, so you just stayed slumped over his body. You released your domain. Your friends were already surrounding you. After the initial few seconds of stunned silence as they registered that you were literally on top of the King of Curses, they began to celebrate.

Kento pulled you onto your feet and let you lean against him as you regained your energy. Satoru beamed at you and gave you a quick hug. Suguru patted you on the head while Satoru jumped up and down in a circle around Sukuna's body. You smiled weakly as you watched them. Then, resting your hand on the loop of Kento's arm because you really felt like you were going to collapse, you spoke up.

"Um- I don't think he's going to stay unconscious for that long, so I'd form a plan, if I were you guys."

Your words, necessary as they were, definitely killed the vibe. Satoru deflated and everybody else looked at Sukuna's body. Suguru spoke up first.

"We could just... kill him."

None of you had wanted to say it, but it was a plausible option. It seemed like a pretty good option, actually.

Kento was the first to agree with Suguru's plan out loud. "I think that's a good idea. Safest to do it while he’s unconscious.." He let out a conflicted sigh. "I don't love the idea of doing it like this, but I think that waiting for him to wake up and then attacking would be a foolish idea."

Suguru nodded. "Satoru, you’re quiet."

Satoru looked up, smiling slightly. "That's because I have another suggestion." He looked at you, then pointed just in case there was any confusion about who he was addressing (there wasn't). "You just took down the King of Curses."

You chewed your lip, then added, "Temporarily."

"Sure. But you did it. And I firmly believe that, had anybody else been down there, even with your cursed technique and the exact same plan, it wouldn't have worked."

There was a pause as you frowned at him. "Why would that be the case?"

Satoru shrugged. "I don't know. But that's what I think. I don't think he would've listened to anyone else."

Suguru quietly added, "Not for long enough to lose, anyway."

Kento started to nod, seeing Satoru's point. You still didn't see what his plan was. "What does that matter now, though, ‘toru?"

"He listened to you enough to lose. Maybe we could..." He tilted his head slightly. "Maybe we could use that. Use him."

For the second time that day, you were left on your own with the King of Curses. At least he was unconscious this time. Not that it felt like a huge consolation when the whole point of this plan was to wait for him to wake up.

You were kneeling beside him, nervously tapping your fingers on the floor. Just waiting. You felt like a sitting duck. The plan was that, as soon as he showed signs of waking, you expanded your domain again and trapped him inside. Just like the plan earlier, you were convinced it was going to go wrong. Luck didn't feel like it was on your side. You wished that they could have come up with a better plan. You hadn't loved Suguru's proposition, but it beat this.

The others were busy helping with the evacuation. It turned out that Sukuna's attacks hadn't been the only ones in Shibuya, and while everyone's focus was on him, some lower grade cursed spirits had escaped. Nobody had died yet. Your friends were making sure that fact didn't change.

You sighed, looking down at Sukuna's body again. It was strange to know he was so powerful, yet sit beside him like this and be fine. You could get a good look at him like this. He was big, bigger than even Kento.. Solid. Every part of him seemed as strong as it could be. But, slumped against the concrete, he didn't look so severe. You had fought with people that lost their shit in fights enough times to know his laughing wasn't entirely sincere, so it was nice to get a look at him candidly. He kind of just looked... blank. Like his body was a vessel for destruction, and when it wasn't doing that, there wasn't enough him to actually fill it up. He could have been dead and you didn't know how different he would truly look.

Your eyes were on him the entire time. You knew that you hadn't missed a single flicker in his expression, no eye twitch or parting of lips or any sign that he was about to wake up. But, one second he was asleep, and then next his eyes were on yours.

For a moment, your heart stuttered in your chest. You were frozen again, but for a different reason than before. His eyes bored into yours. They weren't quite as red as you had thought they were, more of an autumnal orange. And they were narrow, almost lazily opened, like he truly didn't care about anything. Even though you knew he must, you knew that this couldn't have ever happened to him before.

He didn't say anything. But when he sat up and just looked at you, it was pretty obvious what was happening. More obvious when his arms crossed over his broad chest and he lifted his eyebrows slightly. After a long few seconds of your stunned silence, he spoke up.

"Well? Are you going to do it, or should I just kill you on the spot? I have a feeling I'll enjoy killing you."

Your lips parted and you stared at him. But you lifted your hands and expanded your domain again, because what the fuck else were you meant to do? It took a little longer than before. Most sorcerers couldn't expand their domains more than once in a day, but you could as long as you had the energy and focus. You were swiftly running out of both.

Sukuna clicked his tongue, rising to his feet. You tried to do the same, but your body was too fatigued. You stayed kneeling and tried to conserve your energy as best as you could so, when you needed to stand, you could. He paced in front of you for a while, inspecting your domain. Then he turned to you. The only reaction he had to realising you were still kneeling was a slight raise of his eyebrows again.

"So, puny sorcerer... What the fuck are you doing? Who do you think you are? Have I been gone for so long that sorcerers have become this incredibly cocky?" He glared at you. "You may have bested me for a moment, but I could still squash you where you stand. Kneeling only makes the punishment more fitting." When you didn't say anything, he continued. "What is your plan? What purpose does my suffering in your presence serve, other than to prolong your inevitable death?"

You looked at him blankly for a few seconds. Then you looked down at your hands and spoke. "They didn't tell me what to say, so I'll just tell you the truth."

There was a beat of silence as you expected him to interrupt you, and he didn't because he was a little surprised by your words.

"The plan is to use you. To hold you here and... bring you over to our side, so to speak." You turned your hands over, inspecting them. You've never come out of a fight this unscathed before. How ironic that it was with the King of Curses himself. "You have immense power, more than anybody we have. But, combined, our sorcerers can still take you down. I did it, and I'm not the strongest sorcerer."

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "And you believe that honesty will convince me? You are far more foolish than I thought you were."

You hesitated. The sensible thing to do next would be to list the benefits, to show him why he should want this arrangement. But nobody had told you any, because everyone was so focussed on how it could benefit you. After a pause, you frowned slightly and did your best.

"You must feel like your power has plateaued," you said, half-guessing. "You must feel like you've reached the peak, and that this is as far as your power can go. But things are different in the jujutsu world than they were in the Heian era. Take my technique, for example. We have no idea when it originated, but there was no version of it in your era. There are a few techniques like that. And, since the birth of Gojo Satoru, the whole landscape has changed. You could grow further, learn from observing a whole new breed of sorcerer."

Sukuna said nothing, but his interest was piqued more than he'd admit. You were right. He loved the simplicity of breaking people and things, but wasn't there more to this whole thing? He'd done this. He'd already burned down buildings, used Cleave and Dismantle until he could do it in his sleep. Maybe there would be some use in watching the sorcerers of the modern age. 

You took his silence to mean that he wasn't convinced, and so you tried to think of another benefit. "You can benefit from socially acceptable protection," you told him. "You might not think you need protection, that everyone else needs protection from you, but this arrangement is going to require you to be cooperative. If you just agree to that, you're going to end up being exploited. Even if you benefit from it, you're the King of Curses, you shouldn't be at the mercy of them. I'm respected enough and strong enough to provide that protection for you." After you'd finished talking, it faintly registered what you had just offered, but you pushed it out of your mind. You were doing what you needed to do.

There was another lull. Sukuna was genuinely astounded by what you had just said. Not only at the prospect of being protected by some modern sorcerer, but at the idea that you would actually offer that to him.

"Hey, also," your voice suddenly grew far more casual and you looked up, meeting his eye. Sukuna was already fiercely watching you, but he knew the slight surprise at your tone probably registered on his face. "Don't you want to just kind of see what's going on in the world these days? Like, it's been a thousand years, man. So much has changed. You have all this power, but haven't you done everything that you want to do? Don't you want to kind of.. chill out? Do some stupid stuff, some trivial stuff? Explore the world and not have to constantly be thinking about who you're going to murder next, or whatever?"

He shouldn't have listened to a word you said, but he did. And then, because he was still Sukuna, and because it had been a long time since he'd had a real conversation with anyone, he used his well-practiced tactic of turning the tables.

"Tell me, puny sorcerer, why are you letting them guide your actions? Why do you so willingly give over your strings to your puppet-masters?"

He waited for a beat, let it sink in as you looked up at him. Sukuna doubted that it was going to be easy to manipulate you. You were clearly good at thinking on your feet. So, just like you had, he manipulated the truth to his favour, and tried to ignore it when he realised there was very little manipulation in his words at all.

"What grade are you, fool?"

"Special grade."

He nodded. He'd guessed as much. "You have all this power, this unique and versatile technique, and you're allowing it to be guided by another's hand? Are you completely stupid?" Sukuna's eyes flicked between yours. He was still trying to figure out if you were only able to hold his eye contact because you were terrified, or if you were so worn out that your nerves had faded. "Would you not like freedom? Autonomous power? Whether your whims be destruction or life-giving, should it not be your choice? Shouldn't you embrace the power at the core of you?"

You tilted your head slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. And- And who's going to give that to me? You?"

Maybe it was that he'd only been in the modern age for an hour, but the sarcasm went right over Sukuna's head. "Yes, fool, me. You yourself acknowledged the power I hold, far superior to any sorcerer you know. Who else could grant you that?"

Both of you stopped. Stared at each other. And, simultaneously, you both realised that the other had a point.

Because... yeah. Destruction did come easily to Sukuna. It took hardly more effort than walking. But it got tedious. He felt like, no matter the sorcerer he was fighting, the city he was destroying, it had all become the same. And, as much as he had always wanted power, he had never wanted stagnancy. The appeal of his power was meant to be that it was exciting. What use did it have if it no longer thrilled him?

It would be a surprisingly welcome change to give it a break. He had never given himself a chance to try the other parts of being a sorcerer. Even while he was a human, his focus had just been on building his power. And, once he'd achieved that, the immense strength he'd held had meant he couldn't just live as a normal sorcerer. Yeah, maybe the Heian era had been so full of horror and cursed spirits that nobody had truly feared him. But if he had just wandered the streets, he would have gotten three paces before he was engaged in another fight.

He could do the things that he'd never had a chance to. Actually live somewhere, permanently. He could discover new things about life, things that had changed since he was roaming the earth. He could travel, buy things, live.

And, on your knees a few paces away, you were also realising that... yeah. You were exploited a lot of the time. Just like Satoru, you were powerful, which meant that people were very focussed on making sure you were on side. But the value was in your skill, not in your personhood.

Like Shoko, your cursed technique made you indispensable. You were more versatile than most people, had the endurance to withstand more damage before you had to be pulled from the field. And they took advantage of it. It had been you they'd sent out to confront the King of Curses, hadn't it?

You were rare enough to be coveted, but not enough to be given anything in return. And the dissatisfaction had been building in you for a long while. Sukuna's words had just... brought it to the forefront. And they'd provided a solution, something you hadn't even thought to consider. The option to just... stop it. Could it really just stop?

But, as much as living appealed to Sukuna, and no longer being treated like a cursed tool appealed to you, both of you couldn't look past the looming fact that you couldn't trust each other.

Sukuna was the King of Curses. He was probably going to kill you as soon as he was out of your domain. He'd probably been drooling about your head falling away from your body since he'd laid eyes on you. 

And, if he doesn't kill you like he knows he should, you're probably just laying down more parts of an elaborate trap. You were probably buying his trust so that one of the other sorcerers could kill him while you caught him off guard again. And-

Sukuna's eyes met yours. And, as you looked up at him, it became glaringly apparent that your paranoid thoughts were mirroring each other. Because if you don't trust him, and he doesn't trust you, and both of you are refusing to trust the other because you're so convinced that the other will betray you, isn't there an obvious solution.

"It might make sense for us to make a binding vow-"

"Get on your feet and make a binding vow-"

He scowled at you. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. But you rose to your feet. You took a step forward and he mirrored you. You stuck your hand out and he clasped it in his, his grip as strong as you knew it would be. It was slightly painful, but you didn't let it show on your face. You weren't sure he was doing it on purpose, anyway.

Once he released your hand, you withdrew your domain. Sukuna didn't kill you. No other sorcerers jumped out to kill him while his guard was lowered.

You turned to look at him. Sukuna looked right back at you. This was the first time in either of your lives that you'd been forced to trust someone like this. It wasn't technically out of necessity, because he could've gone back to destroying Shibuya if he wanted, and you could try to kill him again if you wanted, but it was the truly rational decision for both of you.

And, beyond the pragmatism, it was kind of nice to trust someone. Sukuna had to admit that he'd never been able to trust someone before, not beyond Uraume. This was very different to that. 

You had your friends, of course, and you knew that they were never intentionally exploiting you. They all suffered too. But you had never had an ally like this before, someone that, sure, was acting mostly for his own benefit, but that had absolutely no reason to betray you beyond whimsy.

It wasn't awful.

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i hope you enjoyed my first proper part of a fic on this account! already we are not operating at true sukuna levels of violence but i can't resist writing my man a little soft. he's gonna get softer, trust. part 2 and 3 in editing.

sukuna - a deal with the devil pt. 2/3

{in the aftermath of your agreement with the king of curses, you find your alliance becoming more personal than either of you expected} 5.8k words

part one + part two + part three

notes: kind of OC sukuna because he's way too lenient and soft with you

warnings: cursing

tags: @missroro

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Sukuna sat down on the concrete, one leg propped up. You sat down opposite him, leaving a healthy amount of space between you. The two of you needed to figure out how this arrangement was going to work, and that meant being open with each other. You started.

"In the jujutsu world, I'm not exactly as much of an insider as my friends are," you told him honestly. "I try to follow their moral code, but it's no secret that I don't agree with a lot of it. I cross lines pretty often, get into trouble with the higher-ups. I think, if I didn't associate with the people I did, I'd probably have been executed a long time ago." You looked down at your hands. "I wasn't meant to actually... help you. Just manipulate you enough and provide just enough benefits to win you over. But I don't want to do that, because it doesn't have to be done like that. And I- I think that you recognise that, too."

Sukuna listened in silence. Up until then, he hadn't been able to identify what it was about you that kept catching him off guard. Now, he knew. It was your sincerity. When was the last time someone was sincere to him? Even Uraume wasn't entirely sincere, because of their stifling obsequiousness. So the last time someone had looked at him and spoken completely honestly and sincerely was probably never.

When you finished talking, Sukuna didn't argue. He took his turn fairly.

"Before I was incarnated in this form, I was a sorcerer, like you. Stronger, much stronger. The Heian era was a much harsher world than the one you live in, so my strength increased rapidly. Then I died. Then I was a cursed spirit. And now I'm me again." His expression shifted in a scowl as he continued. "During your foolish attempts to antagonise me, you mentioned my four arms, which I still retain. My true form is still present if I wish it to be, and so are my cursed techniques." He paused, then looked you dead in the eye. "If I see fit, I will kill you in an instant. A binding vow will not stop me from doing that."

He didn't know what response he expected, but the nod he received wasn't it. And he couldn't stop the thought that ran through his head: He knew for certain that he was not going to kill you. Ever. He didn't know exactly why, but he knew that with conviction.

"Okay." You inhaled, then exhaled. Then you turned your palm up, as though you were offering him something. "We have to determine the kind of dynamic we're going to have."

"I will maintain absolute power."

"I don't think you will, though."

"Sorcerer, you should watch your tone when you address me, or you may find yourself without a tongue to backchat with."

"King, you might think I'm an idiot, but I'm not so much of an idiot that I don't realise that this is a mutually beneficial situation."

"Your death would be mutually beneficial."

"What would be mutually beneficial would be an equal partnership."

"I must admit, I'm a little impressed that you said that with a straight face."

The bickering made you sigh and you leaned back on your hands. "The other sorcerers aren't going to let you out of my sight regardless. What I should really be suggesting is that I hold the power, but I'm not stupid. Equality is the fairest way to do it."

He stared you down for a long few moments. Then he let out a huff, turning his head and looking down the road. "If there is an instance where violence is necessary, it falls into my jurisdiction."

You were just as amazed as he was that he had just agreed to that, but you had the sense to talk before he could change his mind. "If there's negotiation, then I should get to do it."

"I don't want to talk to juvenile, weak sorcerers, anyway." He sounded petulant. He looked it, too.

"We should share information back and forth," you added, "to make sure this works properly."

Sukuna looked back at you. "Currently, we're establishing a structure of co-dependence." He waited for you to argue. When you just nodded in acknowledgement, he carried on. "The usual barrier to co-dependence is a lack of reciprocity."

"So, we need a sort of constant flow between us," you nodded. "A continued stream of back and forth."

"Information, opinion, and intention," he nodded.

You held his gaze for a moment, then rose to your feet. "I think we should go and talk to the others. Before they come looking for us."

Sukuna stood too. It was going to take him a while to get used to someone using 'we' and 'us' in reference to him. "I suppose there's nothing they could say that would allow me to massacre every one of them without breaking our agreement?"

The genuine surprise on your face at what you were ninety percent sure had been a joke irritated him. He didn't follow it up with anything. You led the way towards the more populated area of Shibuya. Or, you did for about ten seconds.

"This must be part of your act, sorcerer," Sukuna commented.

You looked at him in confusion. You didn't need to say anything for him to realise that it wasn't.

"Oh, for-" He cut himself off, jaw ticking. "This is ridiculous. You would move faster without legs."

And, before you could even register what was happening, one of his strong hands was grabbing hold of the back of your shirt, bundling it up in his grip. Sukuna lifted you off the ground effortlessly, keeping you roughly upright as he moved. He couldn't actually fly, but his speed and jumping height meant that he might as well have been able to. 

"Where?" He barked.

You were on the brink of letting out an embarrassing squeal, your feet coming far too close to a rooftop for your liking. You managed to point in the direction of a junction, where you could see Kento and Suguru exorcising a cursed spirit. Sukuna dropped you back onto your feet. Neither of you mentioned it. You smoothed down your clothes and hoped you didn't look too stunned. He tried desperately hard to excuse that act of service as him avoiding an irritating wait.

Suguru and Kento had caught sight of the two of you now. They both looked incredibly wary. It wasn't until you saw Kento reach for his blade that you glanced over at Sukuna and saw the way he was walking.

"You-" You cleared your throat, then lowered your voice. You put it as neutrally as you could. "I think that passivity, or at least the appearance of it, is going to be the best strategy."

He looked at you. For a second, he genuinely looked like he was going to lean over and bite your had off. Then his expression shifted and he looked abruptly less threatening. His face still looked thunderous when he looked towards your friends, who had grown in number as the others joined them, but you knew any degree of softness was something to value.

You didn't have to tell him to fall back. Sukuna walked a pace behind you. He looked casual, but you were close enough to see his jaw ticking as you approached your friends. You shot them a small, tight smile.

"Hi."

They all listened in dead silence as you outlined roughly what had happened and what you'd agreed with Sukuna. He was quiet too. He made mental note of everything you missed out: the time you'd spent sitting together discussing the truth about yourselves, the equality in your partnership, the benefits you'd told him. It wasn't until you'd finished and then paused to make sure there was nothing else you wanted to say that you added,

"And he's under my protection."

That comment was the one that broke the dam. Kento sat up in his chair. Suguru's eyes flicked from you to Sukuna. Satoru laughed and then mumbled something unintelligible that sounded a lot like, 'oh, fuck.'

"Well, we need to remedy this," Kento said once everyone had settled down.

Suguru leaned forwards. "The prison realm is a viable option."

Kento nodded. ""Imprisonment or some method of limiting his cursed energy are the safest options."

A frown worked itself onto your face. Then, to Sukuna's amazement more than anyone else's, you shook your head. "No. No, none of them are options at all."

Satoru's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"The objective of the plan was to get him on our side so that we could ensure his strength isn't used against us." You gestured beside you. "He's on our side. He's not killing anyone. We got what we wanted from him, so why would we continue to treat him like a monster?"

Suguru cleared his throat. "It may have slipped your mind, but the King of Curses is literally a monster."

You crossed your arms over your chest, firmly standing your ground. "Well, you all told me to align myself with this 'monster.' This is the result of that. Those are not options."

Sukuna stared at you. 

Oh, fucking shit. Shit.

Humans and sorcerers were fucking stupid. They were weak, and pathetic, and fickle. He was above them. He'd proven that time and time again. People like this didn't deserve to step foot in the same city as him, let alone stand a few paces away and discuss how they were going to restrain him.

But you. You were standing in front of the most powerful people in the jujutsu world. In front of your friends, your allies, the only people that had your back. And you were defending him. 

It wasn't like you were some fierce, strong-willed sorcerer that feared nothing. He could tell that you were anxious about it. Your hands were trembling, that was why you had crossed your arms. Your voice was a little shaky, that was why you were speaking in short sentences. You didn't like having to be confrontational, especially against them. But you were doing it anyway. For him.

Sukuna took a step forward, so that he was properly standing beside you instead of slightly behind you. They all moved quickly, about to throw everything they had at him. Smoothly, Ryomen stuck his hands in his pockets and let out a soft, almost bored huff.

"If that's all you people have to say, I'm going to take my sorcerer and we're going to go do something more useful with our time. I am above this."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you straighten up, surprised by the fact that he was speaking, then by his words. Technically, he was breaking the agreement of participating in the negotiation. But he knew you wouldn't mind. To him, this was part of the agreement, too. He was defending you, like you'd defended him.

When all of your friends stood in silence, Sukuna spoke again. "Unless you would prefer for us to remain? There are plenty of civilians left in this part of the city. I'd be more than content to pick a few hundred off while you continue to-" 

"No, no, no," Suguru interrupted. "No."

Sukuna hummed with false interest. "Oh, you don't want that?"

Kento's jaw ticked. "No, of course we don't want that."

Sukuna's hands came out of his pockets. Suddenly, he looked like he'd grown a foot. He looked genuinely furious, enough that even Satoru's eyes widened a little. "You better stand the fuck down then, hadn't you, pathetic sorcerers?" Your lips parted. "Back off and leave her alone, hm? She's done exactly what you've asked her to. It's not her fault that it doesn't look how you intended."

He glanced over at you as he realised how his intention to defend you had become a little more obvious. The look on your face wasn't hugely obvious, but he saw it anyway. You were surprised, despite everything. A little pleased. And...grateful. It was exactly the look his face had worn a few moments ago, when you had spoken up for him. Because it felt nice to have an ally, to know someone had your back.

--

Unsurprisingly, nobody tried to stop the two of you from leaving Shibuya. Sukuna lifted you again, with a little more care this time. You pointed him in the right direction until you reached your house. You couldn't think of anywhere else to take him, and both of you were more tired than you'd care to admit.

He set you down in the middle of the road. Both of you walked in an alarmingly comfortable silence. Sukuna didn't comment on anything or show even a hint of interest until you were pushing open a small gate and pulling a set of keys out of your pocket. 

Then he blinked, looking up at the building in front of him. There was no doubt in his mind that this was your home. And, despite the snarky voice in the back of his head that wanted to mock your human dwelling place, he couldn't stop thinking that this was a little intimate, a little familiar. He didn't feel like he should be standing behind you while you fiddled with your keys. He didn't feel like he should have been the one that made sure the gate was closed behind him. 

He didn't feel like he should be acting like this version of himself here.

"Show me your dwelling place, then, woman."

You dropped your keys. Sukuna glanced at you. The action itself didn't amuse him, mostly because it irritated him that even dropping the King of Curses act didn't mean you weren't scared of him. What did amuse him, though, was that you didn't bend over to pick them up, you just rested your hand over your face and groaned.

"Sorry," you muttered, "that really took me by surprise."

Sukuna watched you, watched the back of your hand. Then he bent down and picked up your keys. It took him a few tries to figure out how exactly to work the lock, but he did it. Your hand fell away from your face at the first clink of metal on metal, and you watched him until he pushed the door open.

"Thank you." 

He looked at you, surprised by the weight of your words. Then he nodded slightly. He looked away, because he didn't like the way that made him feel.

You took the keys back, dropping them into the dish. Then you turned on the living room light and stepped into the house. Sukuna didn't step in.

"May I step over the threshold?"

You looked at him in surprise, already midway through taking off your shoes. "Oh- Yeah, come in. I guess you'll be here for a while." You hesitated and he could almost see you dropping an act, too. Not as big of an act as his, but an act nonetheless. "Um- I hope that it's okay. It's no... palace, or whatever a King of Curses lives in."

He shut the door behind him, taking off his shoes as he looked at you. "I don't live anywhere."

Your eyes bored into his for a long few seconds. And then, when you smiled, it was a genuine smile. "It's step up from that, at least."

"Yes, I suppose it is." Sukuna nudged his shoes out of the way, then rested his hands on his hips. "I told you to show me your abode, didn't I?"

You nodded. "What do you mean, though? A.. Like a tour?"

"Show me everything," he said simply.

You were silent for a moment. Then you led him through the house, towards the bedroom. That seemed like the safest bet, since you couldn't see how a bed and a wardrobe could have changed too drastically. 

You pushed your bedroom door open and flicked on the closest lamp. "This is my room," you told him, stepping aside so he could walk in too.

Sukuna didn't clash with the room as much as you had expected. Especially when he casually walked over to your drawers and started tugging them open. You watched for about three seconds before registering that he was rifling through your underwear.

"Wh- That's-"

He glanced at you as you approached him. "Don't tell me that you're a weak sorcerer and a prude."

You scowled, but his words didn't sting much at all now. "It's my underwear."

"You're a prude," he retorted. But he shut the drawer. "Explain the blinking lights."

You looked at him. "What?"

"The lights that you non-verbally command," Sukuna elaborated. When you still looked clueless, he waved at the lamp. "Foolish woman."

You hummed. "Oh, lightbulbs. Um... electricity."

"An overwhelmingly helpful response."

You walked back over to the lamp, lifting the wire. "It's a current of energy, kind of, and it flows through wires and into things. And then you can switch it on or off. And you can die if you touch the current directly."

"Why are you handling it with such nonchalance, if you may die at any second?"

"Because it's protected by the wire." You dropped it anyway, suddenly struck by the fear that you would get electrocuted. It was stupid, but he sounded so confident that you half-expected your body to start convulsing. "Anyway, that's all there really is in here."

Sukuna didn't respond. He made his way around your room, inspecting everything. He spent a while looking at your posters and photos. It was pretty obvious that he had no idea what to make of them, but he didn't say anything. Once he was done, he pointed towards the door.

"Reveal the next room to me."

You showed him the bathroom. He had the basic understanding of what things were, even if they were much more advanced now. He flushed the toilet three times before he noticed you were trying to suppress a smile. Still, he couldn't help marvelling at all the small elements of human life that he'd never experienced before. He pointed at things and you told him what they were, and he seemed pretty content with the activity thus far.

"That."

"Toothbrush."

"That."

"Vitamin supplement."

"That."

"Rubber duck."

"That."

"Shower- No, no, no-"

Sukuna leaned forwards and turned the shower on. His eyes widened as water shot straight at him. You gasped, leaping over to try and help. His hand was still over the knob, so you had to lean into him to tug it off.

"No, you have to turn-"

"I am turning, your shower is broken-"

"It's not broken, you're turning the wrong-"

"It is not the wrong-"

"The shower-"

The stream finally stopped. You leaned back, soaked through and a little breathless. You looked at Sukuna. He was soaked too, his robe clinging to his skin. His pink hair was darkened and heavy with water. Then, before you could stop yourself, you were laughing. Sukuna let out a soft huff, but he couldn't hide his smile.

He knew he should be warier of you than he was. Nobody had ever gained his trust, let alone this quickly. He didn't like anybody, but he was catching himself feeling a strange fondness as he watched you. And you knew that he could kill you on a whim, regardless of the binding vow. But neither of you can help it.

"Maybe we should change before we continue the tour?" You suggested after your laughter died down.

"Yes, I agree."

--

Sukuna changed into one of your biggest oversized shirts and a pair of sweatpants that were just about baggy enough for him. He swiftly forgot about his new human clothes, though, because he stepped into the living area and saw you wearing your pyjamas. You were wearing little shorts with a simple oversized shirt. Something about it was so domestic and sweet that he actually stopped walking for a second, having to force his feet forwards.

"Rise, woman, and show me the next room."

You turned, eyes lighting up at the sight of him in your clothes. You held back any comments, though. You rose to your feet and showed him into the kitchen.

Sukuna interrogated you about every single appliance, from the fridge to the coffee maker. You answered them all patiently. There was no laughter now. That amusement had faded into something else. Neither of you were acknowledging it. It felt heavy, like the air between you was weighed down by something. Both of you were too wary of what it might be to actually turn around and mention it. You weren't even addressing the easy comfort of what you were doing right now.

"And this is the lounge," you finished, arms spread out.

Sukuna watched as they fell back to your sides. He prowled around the room, inspecting everything. "What's the black box?"

You reached for the remote and turned the television on. "Television."

"Its purpose?"

"Uh, entertainment, I guess. You can watch stuff or play games on it." You turned the television off.

Sukuna sniffed a candle, then glanced at the couch. It looked comfortable, and he was getting tired. But he didn't know what the protocol was. He didn't want to offend you, not now. He kind of liked that you trusted him, and he didn't want to fuck that up. So, like he had earlier, he asked.

"May I sit, woman?"

He absolutely hated the look of surprise on your face as you looked at him, but he loved the way you smiled at him, nodding. Your hands were clasped together as you watched him sit down. He made sure to sit comfortably, even though he was unsure if you were watching him like that because you were worried about his comfort, or if it was something else. When he was comfortable, he glanced up. You were sitting down beside him, cross legged. 

It felt right.

"Why did you let me catch you in your domain? The second time?"

He was taken aback by the sudden question for a second. But then he saw your curious face and he realised you'd probably been wondering that for a while now. He thought about it for a while. Then he hummed.

"There's not a deep answer to that."

"I don't mind if it's not deep. Just the truth."

He shrugged slightly, resting his arm along the back of the couch. "I got bored."

You looked at him. You weren't really surprised by his answer. You were friends with Satoru, and although he wasn't as strong as Sukuna, you knew that being that overpowered wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

He continued. "I'm strong. I've done more than your measly brain can fathom. Lived multiple lives. I'm fucking bored."

"Oh, I understand that," you nodded. "I'm no King of Curses, obviously, but it does sound familiar in a way."

Sukuna looked at you. You were right, you weren't a King of Curses. You didn't have his power running through your veins. But he was starting to wonder if he'd been wrong to take that to mean you were any less strong than he was.

And, as you looked down at your hands, thinking about his words and clearly thinking about your own experience, he realised that he already knew you enough to guess at what was stopping you from speaking further. What had you said to him when you were goading him into the trap?

'Because you can ease your inferiority complex.'

You looked like you felt lesser, too. Maybe you weren't having a whole millennia-long thing about it, but he could see the insecurity there. Sukuna wanted to see inside you. In the same way that you had revealed your home to him. He took a breath, then told you so.

"Your secrecy irritates me. Reveal your thoughts."

Maybe it came out harsher than he meant it too, but he still said it.

You looked at him for a second. Then you turned to face him properly, hands resting in your lap. And you told him.

You told him about the stupid worries. About how you were terrified of spiders, about the random and irrational fears you had. You told him about the tiny hiccups in your everyday life. About that lady on the bus last week that gave you a funny look. About how a friend of yours owed you a dinner because you'd let him sleep on your couch again. About how you were always worried about something or other, even when there was nothing to be worried about. About how you always scuff your shoes because you focus on not looking at the ground but then get distracted by the sky or the trees or the birds.

And then you paused, self-conscious about how long you'd spoken for and who you were saying it all to. But then you realised that he was listening like this was important information. That he cared so much that it was shining through even though he was trying to pretend otherwise.

He raised his eyebrow slightly. "Did I ask you to stop talking?"

You hesitated, then opened your mouth again. "And I have a lot of stupid insecurities, too. About stuff that I know doesn't matter and that nobody else probably thinks about so hard."

"Like?" He prompted impatiently.

And so you told him that, too. Stuff that you hadn't told anybody, that you'd only admitted to yourself properly in the last few years. It was so surprisingly easy to tell him. He didn't seem like the King of Curses anymore.

Sukuna listened to every word you said, storing it carefully away in his mind. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to ridicule you for your stupid, petty concerns. Demand why you care about the look you'll get from a stranger if you wear a skirt that's a few inches shorter than usual, when there are bigger things to be concerned with.

But he found himself paying close attention to you as you spoke. And he started to want to murder that store owner that looked at you funny with you dropped your card. And he kind of wants to take you out and spend an infinite amount of time helping you try on clothes until you figured out what you felt most comfortable in. And he wanted to take you to get those two cats you've been wanting for so long and let you decide whether they really will solve so many of your problems.

Because they're stupid concerns. Things that never have and probably never will enter his head. But, the more he listens to the lilt of your voice, the more he notices the little expressions that cross your face and that little habit you have of getting side-tracked but coming swiftly back to the point, the more he kind of does understand it.

Sukuna did have his concerns about how he's perceived. They're mostly rooted in whether or not people are frightened of him, sure, but they're there nonetheless. So he kind of got that part of it. And he was sure that, if he made a fool of himself in front of some lowly humans, he'd be thinking about it weeks later, too.

But he didn't think you should. 

Your self-conscious laugh interrupted his thoughts. He focussed on you as you started to speak again.

"Sorry, I know you probably think those are just... stupid, petty human concerns."

Sukuna didn't so much as crack a smile. He looked you directly in the eye and asked, "How would I generate human currency?"

You blinked at him. "Uh.. Wh-"

"How would I generate human currency?" He repeated.

You were silent for a long moment. Then you got over your surprise and offered a useful response. "Do you have any assets?"

Sukuna nodded. "I possess several estates and a few temples, both of which contain many artefacts. I asked you about human curre-" He cut himself off, staring at you in surprise. You looked back at him with wide eyes.

"Oh my god."

Sukuna raised his eyebrows. "What?"

You laughed. "Maybe I should help you sell all your properties and then steal half your money, since you have no bearing of the value of human currency." Even while you're joking, you're in disbelief. It made sense that he would be rich, but that rich? He was laughably wealthy.

Sukuna still didn't smile. "Why would you need to steal from me?"

You blinked. "Wh- I just mean because you must be very, very, very wealthy in terms of modern money."

"Most likely. I was wealthy in my era. Again, that isn't what I asked you." Sukuna's eyes flicked between yours. "I have no use for money. You can sell what assets I possess and take the money for yourself."

You looked at him for a second, then burst into laughter.

The arm that Sukuna had resting along the couch extended slightly. He hit you on the shoulder. "Don't fucking laugh at me, mortal."

You stopped laughing abruptly. "Oh my god," you say again.

"Will you stop saying that without due cause?" Sukuna snapped. "What is it that you're 'oh my god'ing about?"

"Do you- Do you not realise how much money that would be?" You asked him.

He shook his head slightly. "Enough, I imagine. How much?"

You're silent for a moment as you try to think of a way to quantify it. "It would be... millions and millions."

"Is that worth a lot?" Sukuna questioned. "You forget that this has no meaning to me, sorcerer."

"It would buy you, like... like, you could buy a whole castle. Multiple."

"Again-"

You shook your head. "I don't think there's any way of quantifying it. It's an obscene amount of money. Genuinely."

"Is it more than you currently possess?"

You laughed at that. "If money were animals, you would be, like, a humpback whale, and I'd be a fish. No, not even that. A crustacean. Maybe a barnacl-"

"I understand," he interrupted, "please end your nautical metaphor before I feel obligated to hurt you." You dutifully closed your mouth. "You will take the money. I have no use for it."

You shook your head. "No, I can't do that."

"I'm telling you to."

"But I still can't take it."

"I am the King of Curses."

"But we're equals."

"Tch." Sukuna glared at you for a second before he sighed exasperatedly. "If you are not being misleading about the value of my wealth, you would no longer have to even consider money. You could freely purchase your felines, new clothes, explore the worlds of your various hobbies as you'd like to. You could move to a quieter place. You could leave your permanent job as a jujutsu sorcerer and pursue only what you wish to."

As he spoke, you realised just how much attention he had been paying while you were talking. He hadn't just listened to your words, he had catalogued them, storing them away as though they really did matter to him. And now he was presenting a solution.

Why hadn't anybody just tried to talk to the King of Curses?

Why did he always kill everyone that got close, if he had so much attention to give?

Why were you the exception to his rule?

Sukuna finished talking and looked at you. He registered that you were just staring at him. He looked right back at you, waiting for the inevitable moment when you noticed that you were making eye contact and looked away, pretending not to have been staring.

But you didn't. Your eyes focussed on him and you swallowed, but maintained eye contact.

"Thank you, Sukuna," you said sincerely, voice warm and softer than it had been before.

He was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. "You are welcome."

You smiled slightly. "Okay."

"Okay." He nodded again, and realised that he was well and truly fucked.

A silence fell over the two of you. It was a tense one, one that came because you'd both gotten a little too close to acknowledging that unspoken thing. You broke the silence.

"So, here's a problem that the King of Curses has never encountered-"

Sukuna interjected, mostly because he felt like he needed to remind you that he wasn't some soft best friend or something. "That is a bold and foolish assertion to make, foolish woman."

You laughed with a hint of nervousness. "Maybe, but I have one bed, and we agreed that we were equals, so.."

Sukuna looked at you. And he said nothing. You cleared your throat, but he still didn't speak. He just looked at you in complete silence for an uncomfortably long amount of time. And then, abruptly, he rose to his feet. He walked briskly down the hallway towards your bedroom.

"Hey..." You protested weakly. Ultimately, if he decided to take your room, it wasn't like you could stop him.

But Sukuna was turning around, arms crossed. "Are you coming, or not?"

You blinked, then stood up, stumbling after him. Sukuna was already in your bedroom. When you joined him, he pointed at the bed.

"There's enough space. We will share." At the first sign that you were going to protest, he raised his hand. "No, I will not accept argument."

"Okay, we'll share," you agreed, with not as much reluctance as you felt like you should have had.

You took a few steps towards the bathroom. Sukuna's hand snapped around your wrist and he forced you back.

"You dare walk away from me?" He growled.

You blinked at him, then reached down and slid your hand into his. The gesture clearly surprised him because he didn't yank your hand away. "I was going to brush my teeth, actually." You walked towards the bathroom, silently amazed when he let you pull him after you.

You let go of his hand and reached for your toothbrush. Then you found a spare in the cupboard, handing it to him. Sukuna had seen a few forms of tooth hygiene during his time, from blackening to using willow brushes. The minty fluoride you were brushing your teeth with was entirely unfamiliar. But he trusted you in your little human endeavours, so he mimicked you.

"Oh, shit."

You looked at him in surprise. Sukuna had just finished brushing his teeth and he was wearing an expression of pleasant surprise. "What?" You mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Had I been incarnated for longer, my breath would have stunk."

You couldn't help laughing at that. "Would you not have done it at all?"

"I wouldn't have known what the modern equivalent was," he replied. He glanced at you, then muttered, "I have you to thank."

You giggled. "Well, I'm glad I could show you the wonders of modern tooth hygiene."

"I didn't mean just about that."

You looked at him more seriously, recognising that he was trying to be sincere. Then you smiled. "I'm still glad."

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that's part two! i hope you enjoyed an arguably OC sukuna. he is going to get a lot softer in the next (and final) part.

sukuna - a deal with the devil pt. 3/3

{a good old-fashioned timeskip. where do you and the king of curses stand a year after your alliance?} 3.6k words

part one + part two + part three

notes: he's even softer, definitely OC sukuna at this point but who cares i'm delusional

warnings: cursing, nudity (no smut)

tags: @missroro + @doodle-cat16

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"Guess what day it is today."

Sukuna glanced over at you. He was working out on the lounge floor while you were on the phone. He'd figured out a few minutes ago that you were talking to Satoru. 

"What? No!" You laughed. "It's mine and Sukuna's anniversary!"

Sukuna stopped at the peak of a push up, eyebrows furrowing. For a split second, he was unsure if he had missed some social cue along the way that should have told him he was courting you. In this modern age, relationships moved much faster than he remembered from during his lifetime. Not that he'd had much experience courting back then, either. He was too busy murdering everyone he saw to bother with anything more personal.

"Our meeting-a-versary!"

Sukuna sighed and went back to his push ups. Phew. He was grateful for that. Not that he would have minded that revelation all that much. He doubted it would change much about your relationship anyway.

"Our dynamic is not weird, 'toru."

Sukuna sat up and leaned back on his hands, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. Your dynamic kind of was weird, though. He knew you knew that. Both of you tried pretty hard not to think about it. There was more leniency from the others with him, but not very much. You were still expected to be together all of the time. That meant that, apart from the rare occasions you'd managed to convince Sukuna and someone else to coexist for a few hours so you could go do something private, you had just been together. Sukuna knew you better than people that had known you for years, and you knew things about him that nobody would ever know.

"Ugh, do you have t- No, we don't!" You crossed your arms, pouting at your phone as though Satoru could see you through it. Sukuna watched you with a tiny smile. "What? Well- No, I mean, we do still share a bed, but- No, it's not-" You let out a groan. "Satoru, if you say one more thing about 'kuna, I'm going to hang up the phone." There was a brief pause. Then you leaned forward and hung up. You scowled.

Sukuna cleared his throat. He always liked how he could get your attention so easily now. Not because it made him feel powerful, but because it confirmed that you did care for him like he cared for you, despite the singularity of your situation.

"More questions?" He asked, as though he hadn't been eavesdropping the whole time.

You hummed. "Yeah. They're all so nosy. You'd think by now they'd have.." You trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence. You knew why people had so much to say about your relationship with Sukuna. So did he.

"Learned not to ask?" Sukuna supplied.

You nodded, standing up and pulling a water bottle out of the fridge. "Exactly. Even if they do think it's weird, it's our business, right?" You walked over to him, dropping the bottle in his lap.

Sukuna opened it and chugged half before he stuck his hand out. You helped him up. It was more of a symbolic help because you couldn't shift his body if you tried with all your might. You didn't mind, though. He let you do it and that meant something.

He nodded in agreement to your words, sauntering towards the bathroom. "Should tell them all to fuck off."

You laughed. "Why is that your solution so often nowadays?"

"Because I got him to lower his infinity one time and you still won't let me near him." Sukuna shot you a pointed look, one that was meant to say 'let me beat him up' but really said 'you should stick up for yourself more.' And then he was closing the bathroom door.

You walked into the bedroom, changing into your pyjamas and then settling into the pillows. Satoru's words weren't anything new, but they still rattled around your brain. 

You knew it was strange for you and Sukuna to have never stopped sharing a bed. His funds had been in your bank for a long time now. The number was so high that you literally couldn't fathom it. You could've bought a bed. You could've bought a million beds made of gold. Sukuna should've insisted on it; he was the King of Curses, he shouldn't have been sharing a bed with a mere sorcerer. Especially not because of an agreement that was made all that time ago, which barely crossed your mind nowadays.

But you still woke up every morning intertwined. Usually, he was on top of you, his body draped over yours in a way that was simultaneously pulling you closer and keeping anything from disturbing you. And you liked the closeness, just like you knew he liked it, even if neither of you had ever said so.

Sukuna finished in the shower and dried himself off, padding into the bedroom in his robe. He turned off the light and climbed into the bed without a word. He rolled onto his side, reaching out until his hand found your body. His fingers dug into your waist and he gave you a tug towards him.

"Mm." You hummed and shuffled closer, letting him pull you flush against him. His body shifted so that he was partly covering you. You fell asleep.

Nothing disturbed him until the middle of the night. Sukuna opened his eyes enough to see that it was still dark and then snapped them closed again, moving to pull you closer. When he realised his arms were empty, a genuine sense of panic set in.

He took a deep breath, barely stopping himself from lashing out at the closest thing. Blind rage wasn't his style these days. He slowly rose to his feet and made his way through the house, eyes roaming the darkness until he saw you.

You were sitting on the couch, very still. You were nestled into the corner and you looked dazed, but clearly upset. Sukuna walked over and sat beside you.

For a moment, he was unsure of what to do. Even after all this time together, those few minutes before and after sleep were the only ones that held any kind of physical affection. Besides hitting each other, neither of you ever really showed it. Even then, it was usually him hitting you. He liked it, because he liked how you always reacted and he liked the reminder of how he'd learned to soften himself a little so that he could be playful with someone.

When you shuffled over to him and curled into his side, he was surprised. Surprised that he hadn't had time to think of what he was going to do, surprised that it was you that initiated the contact. Surprised that you wanted it.

His hands found your hips and he effortlessly lifted you up, resting you in his lap. His strong arms wrapped around you. He felt you stiffen for a second, just as taken aback as he was by his actions. Then you nestled your face into his neck and held him back.

Sukuna held you in silence for a while. He knew that quiet contact was what you were seeking, so he let you have it. He found himself strangely grateful that he could offer this comfort to you. Knowing someone intimately enough to know what they needed wasn't something he'd ever seen for himself before he knew you, let alone being trusted enough to actually implement it.

"What's wrong?" Sukuna murmured in your ear after a good few minutes had passed.

You sighed, leaning back so that you could see him but stay in his lap. "I can't sleep."

"Why?"

"I found out there's a secret execution out for both of us. I-I was going to tell you in the morning."

Sukuna very nearly laughed. Almost. "That's it? That's all it is?"

You looked at him completely seriously. "I'm not worried that you're going to die, I'm not stupid."

"What, then?" He asked.

You hesitated, then muttered, "I'm scared that they're going to turn their backs on us, and then all of this won't be worth anything to you, and you'll toss it all aside- toss me aside- and I'll lose you. That the agreement won't be important anymore and then none of this time together will matter."

Sukuna was stunned. Genuinely stunned, just like he had been on that very first day he'd met you.

You really cared that deeply about him? And he'd really doubted that you did?

He forced himself to mutter some normal responses.

"I'll kill anyone that tries to touch you, let alone harm a hair on your head. You are stronger than those pathetic sorcerers that would dare to do such a thing. I will split the world into pieces before they get the chance. The entirety of the jujutsu world is nothing compared to the power that you and I hold. You have the force of an empire at your behest, because I will not turn my back on you."

Normal responses for him, anyway.

You listened to him quietly, looking at him as he spoke. Sukuna's words were always slightly alarming, but you'd learned to see the comfort in them. He never lied. You knew that, to him, his strength was the greatest thing he could offer you. And so it was the greatest comfort when he goes on his little murderous tirades the moment you present him with a new target.

In the face of your attentive quiet, Sukuna found himself drifting away from the topic slightly. "It truly astonishes me that, after all that you've done for the jujutsu world, it could still turn its back on you. You have sacrificed so much. I told you it wasn't worth it and that they didn't deserve your energy, yet you continued to prioritise their collective welfare over your own. This is the price that you get for that goodness." His voice grew an edge as he grew more and more angry. "You should be good. I admire that you're good. It infuriates me when that's thrown in your face. It's something I would do, why are those self-righteous sorcerers doing it?"

A look of genuine anger crossed your face. Sukuna stopped talking, unsure of what he said that would make you mad.

"No, 'kuna, that's not the kind of thing you would do," you frowned. "You would never do that. You'd be more inclined to kill me directly. You wouldn't stoop to that low of throwing my effort back in my face, by encouraging people that I know, friends, to kill me."

And then Sukuna was getting angrier. "Don't say that," he growled. "Don't you dare use words like 'kill' and 'you' in the same fucking sentence when you're speaking to me."

Both of you glared at each other like petulant children. Slowly, the silence lengthened and then shifted as you realised that neither of you were angry for an actual reason anymore. Your eyes met his and you realised that he'd come to the same realisation.

You cracked first. You always did when it came to things like this. Despite your best effort to keep pouting, a giggle broke free.

At the first sign of your smile, Sukuna's anger completely disappeared. He was so obviously delighted to see you happy that it made your heart hurt. His arms wrapped around you and he held you close, chin resting on your shoulder.

He was so grateful. Grateful, grateful, grateful.

Your arms wrapped around him too, as tightly as you could. Sukuna always liked it when you held him. That was why you always woke up with him in your arms.

But he only had to pull back slightly to know that you were still upset about the execution. He gazed down at you for a few seconds, and then made his mind up. He would love you. That would make you feel better, if he could just figure out which demonstration of his love was the right one.

When Sukuna thought about how he loved you, he didn't think about telling you in some romantic gesture: I've always loved you, my darling angel. He didn't think about sweeping you off your feet with a kiss, holding your trembling body against his as he pulled soft gasps from your lips. Both thoughts made him smile.

No, that wasn't what Sukuna's love looked like.

He had hold of your hips again. He stood up, with you still attached, then set you on your feet. His hand slid into yours and he pulled you into the kitchen. Without an explanation, he pottered around the small space, pouring out your current favourite drink.

Then, when it was safely in your hands, he found the phone and started to play your music, the songs that he'd noticed you listening to most recently. He watched you like a hawk as you gratefully sipped your drink. But, when you smiled at him, he shook his head.

He turned and switched the oven on, found the cookbook, and tugged you over.

"Bake."

You looked taken aback, but you could see that he was serious, even if you didn't understand why. Dutifully, you began to mix a cookie batter. Sukuna hovered behind you the entire time. When you slid the cookies out of the oven, he switched into his true form, giving you no time to adjust to something you'd only seen a few times in the whole year you'd been together, and sat down on the floor. You were pulled firmly into his lap so that you could comfortably eat your cookie near the heat of the oven.

He watched you, even when you finally noticed how fierce his gaze was and looked up. He let you feed him a piece of your cookie, letting out a pleased hum of approval. Sukuna smiled when that soft interaction made you more happy than the whole process of baking had.

But you weren't better yet.

Sukuna stood up, changing back into his normal form, but keeping you in his arms. He carried you into the bathroom and started to pour out a bath. When he noticed you looking for the soap, he caught your wrist and tugged you to his side.

"Don't do anything."

You were confused, but you did as he asked, watching curiously as he pulled out a small box from the top of the linen closet. "What's that?"

"I was saving it," he murmured, opening it and letting you see inside.

It was full of special shampoos, conditioners, soaps, and bath bombs. He was saving it only partly because he knew a time would come for them. Mostly because he had never figured out quite how to explain that he knew your favourite smells and what would work in your hair or with your skin.

He was so busy checking that everything was fine that it wasn't until he turned to you to ask you to check the water temperature that he realised you were looking at him with something in your eyes that he didn't think he'd ever seen before.

You didn't give him a chance to ask about it. You stepped up to him and gave him a tight hug. He could tell that you were putting as much force into it as you physically could, so he didn't laugh when he effortlessly held you tighter. He held you close until you tipped your head back to look at him.

"Will you help me?"

Sukuna nodded, fingers sliding to your collar. He unbuttoned your shirt deftly, then slid it down your arms. He folded it and put it on the nearest surface, then gently pulled your shorts down your legs. He set that down too. Then he was inhaling the scent of your hair as he leaned over you, his fingers unclasping your bra. He was bending slightly so that he could hook his fingers in your panties and pull them down.

In the back of his mind, it registered that this was the first time he'd ever seen you this exposed. It was the first time he'd touched you here, seen you there. But it didn't really feel like a first time. It felt like this was normal, like it wasn't a big deal for him to do this. Like you had always been his in this way, and he had always been yours in this way.

His warm hands were on you as you climbed into the bath. One on your hip, feeling the curve of your waist, and the other on your wrist, both making sure that you were safe and not in any danger of slipping. 

He might have nearly laughed at the prospect of a secret execution coming close to harming you, but the idea of you hurting yourself normally plagues him every day. There've been hundreds of times that he's insisted he use his RCT on you for little scrapes that you've gotten. Hundreds of times that you've had the same discussion where he's insisted that you're careless with yourself and you've said you're just clumsy and he's called you a stupid idiot and you've shut him up with a bright smile and an I've got you to help, though, right?

Sukuna watched you warily as he let go of you. He waited as you slid all the way under the water, staying under for a few seconds before sliding back up. His hands were on your face before you even had a chance to lift your own, thumbs swiping away the water from your eyes and brushing your hair out of your face. When you looked up at him, face clear of water, Sukuna finally looked relieved. This was the thing that helped, then. This was the part of his love that would make you happier and less stressed.

But that wasn't enough for him. He wanted happy, not happier.

He pushed his robe over his shoulders, letting it hang around his waist. Then he walked around behind you, sinking to his knees on the tiled floor. Without a word, he reached for your head, silently insisting on doing your hair for you. Neither of you spoke for a while. He ran the shampoo and conditioner through, then began to brush your hair. 

"You've gotten so good at managing it," you mumbled, eyes closed happily.

Sukuna grunted. "Managing what?"

"Your force. It doesn't hurt when you're doing something like brushing my hair, but it used to hurt when you even laid a hand on my arm."

He smiled, glad to hear you say it. He'd already known he had improved a lot, but it felt worth so much more to hear it from your lips.

He finished with your hair. The next step seemed obvious, but he had the awareness that, no matter how intimate this all seemed, he couldn't go further without murmuring something.

Quietly, he said, "I'll bathe your body now."

"Okay."

That soft, mumbled agreement made his heart swell. He rose to his feet and found your hand under the water, pulling you to your feet. You let out a soft protest as he made you stand up in the bath. His warm hands on your skin eased the chill almost right away.

Sukuna focussed incredibly hard. He had to make sure that he did this right, that he treated your body with the reverence he believed it deserved. That his soapy hands graced every part of your soft, blemished skin. That nothing he did hurt you.

And his intense concentration meant that he failed to notice the way that you were watching him again. This time, because you'd recognised the look in his eyes, and you were admiring the way that his hands looked against your skin.

"Happy?" You chuckled after a while. Your teasing voice broke him out of his reverie.

He looked up, smiling slightly. "Yes. Are you?"

"Mhm." You slid back into the water, letting out a content sigh. 

Sukuna wasn't really surprised when your hand found his wrist and tugged. Nor, when your pretty lips parted with a soft question.

"Will you get in, Sukuna?"

He nodded. His hand slipped out of yours so that he could loosen his robe and let it fall completely. He nudged you forwards and then climbed into the tub behind you. Sukuna rested his hands on your hips, but he let you be the one to decide whether or not you slid back or not. When you did, he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head in your neck.

"D'you want me to wash you?" You asked.

His reply came out like an admonishment. "No, foolish woman. You're the one that needed comforting. Stop trying to do things for everyone else all the time. Be selfish. Have you no self-respect?"

He was lucky that you knew him and his favouritism well enough to just smile over your shoulder at him.

All of the times he'd thought oh, shit to himself converged. He stared at your content smile, at the soft way you looked at him. And everything aligned in his mind and, this time, he just said it out loud.

"Oh, shit."

You looked at him in confusion, then laughed. "What?"

"You're beautiful," Sukuna stated simply. "You fill the gaps that I can't fill myself. You're the one that's meant to be by my side."

When your smile broadened and you leaned back into him again, he didn't mind that it took you a while to reply. He didn't feel nervous. Sukuna knew for certain that you understood him and you understood the weight and sincerity in his words. He didn't have any fear that you were something he could lose this way. The only thing he could lose you to was death, and he'd already begun making sure that wouldn't happen.

When your reply came, it was all he'd really wanted to hear.

"'Sukuna?"

"Mm."

"I love you."

"I know. I love you."

"I know."

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he's softer than melting ice cream but i can't help it I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!! i hope you guys don't mind sappy sukuna, i'm planning to write something a little less OC soon. that's the final part to this series!