HUMANS ARE WORSE
in which surviving the zombie apocalypse is easy when you canât be turned. or it was, until a much scarier force notices your abilities, too.
MDNI !
content: READER POV, male!reader, sukuna x reader, heavy modern au/interpretations of his character, ooc, this is graphic okay????, fighting/gore/death scenes, sukunaâs a bastard, cannibal!sukuna, sort of yandere dynamics? but sukuna doesnât really love reader per se, reader lowk gets kidnapped, sukuna was born with congenital anomalies, zombie apocalypse au obviously, a bit stockholm syndrome-ish, canon accurate charismatic sukuna mmmđ€€, please do NOT fall in love with a man who kidnaps you even if he looks like or is ryomen sukuna
banner art: could not find the artist!! if anyone does pls let me know!!
dividers: thecutestgrotto and anitalenia
the world was a sucky place, youâd known that since you were a kid, but did this really have to be how it ended?
itâs month nine of the apocalypse, according to the torn-up calendar in your caravan.
food was impossible to find, fuel was harder, and allies were the hardest.
you were going to keel over soon, and it wouldnât be over a zombie bite.
when the apocalypse first started, alarms blaring, mass panic ensuing in major streets, you were bit almost immediately.
youâd been chased down the street, attempted to break into a locked car, and got bit on the back of your thigh before you could fully squirm your way through the small gap in the broken glass.
so, as you presumably died, you just laid there, bleeding from lots of little gashes after all that glass had scraped you on your way in.
placebo effect kicked in, you thought you were going dizzy and feverish and dying, but you were instead.. completely normal.
you stayed in that car for hours until you realised that the fact you were just sitting there and listening to half of tokyo, japan being ravaged by the undead outside was not at all how this was supposed to go.
thatâs precisely when you realised that you were, for some reason, gifted with some weird ability to survive the infection that was killing off the entire world.
and you fucking hated it.
it got tired fast, watching all the camps and survivors youâd stay with get mauled.
eventually, you stopped caring about other survivors. it was an unfortunate truth but important to realise; they were all doomed to die.
you, for some cursed reason, were not.
on the off-chance that the government was still in one piece and were able to uphold evil research labs like those sci-fi movies, you hid yourself in a fully-infected rural town and survived there in your little caravan.
until you ran out of food and had to move closer to the major city you were situated closest to.
yamagata.
thatâs how you ended up in this particularly unfortunate situation.
the distant shuffle of hundreds of feet and the occasional creak in long-rotted throats drew nearer and nearer as you kept accidentally darting into dead ends.
you clumsily vaulted over the hood of a thoroughly-trashed honda, sneakers skidding across cracked paint before hitting the pavement again with a âthudâ.
"seriously?!" between laboured breaths.
the horde answered with a chorus of hungry groans.
fucking fantastic.
youâd initially meant to cut through a side alley to avoid a collapsed overpass.
instead, youâd practically bumped into what felt like half-the-city's-infected-population.
a beat-up truck blocked the road ahead, forcing you to veer left down another alley.
which, of-course, just had to be a dead-end.
life fucking hated you.
"...youâve gotta be kidding me,â you grit out as you scanned your surroundings.
the chain-link fence at the back was right about eight-feet high. fuck, maybe even higher.
despite your thorough knowledge of your own physical limitations, you grabbed it anyway and began pushing yourself upward.
the metal rattled violently as the sound of undead pouring into the alley from behind became more and more obvious the more crowded in.
too many.
right when your hand slipped near the top, something flashed silver.
instinctively, your head snapped to follow the object that had whizzed right past your face.
thunk.
one of the zombies on the frontline, the one that had been about to reach your ankle, collapsed with a small knife buried between itâs eyes.
that was insane accuracy.
with renewed focus, you hauled yourself up the rest of the fence, fingers hurting from the metal, before you launched yourself onto the fourth platform of a fire escape.
holy shit, you havenât had to run like that since you first escaped tokyo.
breathing heavy, you glanced upwards, following the trajectory the knife had flown from.
a big silhouette was leaning over the edge of a balcony parallel from the building youâd clambered onto.
you couldnât see much thanks to the sun, just that he was broad and had his arms crossed over the edge of the railing.
âjump over,â called the supposed saviour, momentarily startling you before you remembered your exact situation.
before you could even tilt your head in doubt, he pointed back down at the alleyway beneath you.
the zombies were beginning to clamber up the fence, numbers so great that they just stood on-top of one another without care for bones or injuries.
they cared about one thing and it was turning you.
hah! little did they know.
still, being bitten was painful as shit and left a nasty scar and occasionally a nasty infection if untreated.
and you currently had no medical supplies, so you climbed up a couple levels of the fire escape before you safely jumped across to the strangerâs specific balcony.
upon landing (with a slight stumble, but whatever), you quickly became acquainted with his face.
the top half of his messy and unkept hair as a light pink, but the dye was fading into a dark, ash-brown.
a makeshift cream-coloured eyepatch covered the right upper side of his face, and beneath his remaining eye that was somehow a pinkish-red sat a mutilated-looking empty socket. as though an eye was meant to be there but never quite formed.
he looked fucked up, but you had bigger priorities. âthank you.â
the man looked you over, briefly, like a farmer would inspect livestock, before he drew a knife.
the relieved feeling in your chest immediately plummeted to dread.
you were safe against the threat of zombies, sure, but survivors were a whole other story.
though they themselves were rare, survivors whoâd lost it took up nearly the entire remaining human population.
honestly, you probably shouldâve expected this.
â..nevermind.â came your grunt as you stepped to the side, arm immediately pressing into the railing.
you didnât hesitate, an instinct youâd picked up from living in this hell for so long.
empty air met your right hook after the stranger simply leaned back.
instead of even trying to fight back fairly, the stranger simply outstretched his arm just enough that the cold metal fit disconcertingly against your throat.
and then the psychopath smiled. âyou look malnourished. you one of those weak types, too afraid to do whatâs necessary to survive?â
holding your breath and straightened stiffer than a board, you began to take tiny steps backwards. the man advanced, obviously, but if you could make it to the balcony door..
whatâs he talking about, anyway. fucking psycho.
âiâve personally found that human flesh is much less wasteful than the rare livestock i come across. you ever tried it?â
oh.
a cannibal.
youâve run into a couple of those. in a world scarce for supplies, it was inevitable.
most of the time, they expressed reluctance, guilt, or resentment for the people they slaughtered. nobody found it fun.
this guy, however, seemed to.
just what kind of freak have you run into?
âno? how disappointing.â the pink-haired stranger tutted. âitâs fine, though, i wonât let your meat go to waste-â
the moment your fingers brushed the cold of the glass sliding door behind you, you drew your hand into a fist and slammed into it in one swift movement with all your strength.
the shatter of the glass seemed to break the manâs focus, even if only for a millisecond, to which you grabbed his armed wrist and head-butted him in the nose as hard as you could.
a guttural âoofâ sound left him from the attack as you yanked the balcony door open behind you and darted inside, searching for a weapon.
footsteps were quick to follow behind you, so you just grabbed the lamp that had been sitting on the closest coffee table and held it up.
the next attempted strike, stab, or slash of his knife was blocked with a loud clang.
the impact shot pain through both your arms, making them shake momentarily.
this guy was ridiculously strong. shit.
âyouâre pretty healthy for a non-cannibal this long into the apocalypse,â the stranger commented as the two of you scrambled through the apartment in a desperate cycle of offence-and-defence. âgot some muscle, too. delicious.â
you grit your teeth as the knife came dangerously close to slicing into your forehead before you had thrown a potted plant at his head, forcing him to miss in-order to duck.
âexcuse me?â
the stranger smiled widely as he advanced with an erratic swing of his weapon. âitâs the best part. well, that and fat. think of humans as cows or pigs-â
oh, gross. what a nut.
âyouâre insane,â cutting him off in a hard voice, you finally managed to get a good kick in on his shin.
he wobbled, but didnât fall. was he superhuman or something? damnit.
the man sprinted at you in an attempt to crash-tackle you to the hard tile floor of the apartmentâs kitchen, but you managed to hit him with one of the cabinetâs doors before he could build too much momentum.
this was getting scary, you had to do something.
right as you thought that, his hand finally closed around your arm.
your yelp was cut-off by the impact of you getting tossed into the front door of the apartment.
a loud âthudâ sound sounded as you slumped against the door, grunting in pain.
that impact fucked up your back, judging by the way your spine was internally screaming in agony.
fuck fuck fuck.
the stranger slowly came to a stop, towering over you with a big, fat grin on his face. âany other insults?â
you didnât even dignify that with a response as you reached up to yank on the door handle so the door would fall open.
lucky for you, the door swung outwards. it wouldâve sucked if you using that moment of stalling ended up in the door just staying in place.
the door swivelled backwards with your weight, letting you crash to the floor of the apartment buildingâs hallway.
no big thing happened, the guy just blinked before glancing through both ends of the empty hallway.
âthat was.. a whole lot of nothing,â he half-mocked, half-genuinely commented as he spun the knife in his grip.
well, no shit.
itâs not like youâre the main character with crazy plot armour or anything-
a familiarly grating moan came from the left end of the hallway, both your heads snapping towards the sound.
zombies? inside?
this couldnât get any worse, could it.
you grunted and went to push yourself up despite the pain in your back attempting to keep you on the carpeted floor.
the man quickly kicked your hand out from where it was stabilising you, forcing you to crash back to the floor right as the first zombie became visible.
from where the side of your face was pressed into the ground, the zombie looked like one of the more deformed ones. slower, probably weaker, too.
as long as it wasnât a horde or anything.
the second zombie followed after, a much faster and more aggressive pace.
why do you have to think. god-fucking-damnit.
right as your hands planted against the ground to force yourself up, the stranger yanked you up by the scruff of your jacket.
and he tossed you down the hallway right towards the approaching zombies.
âthatâs a shame,â his mumbles drifted down the hallway before the door clicked shut. âa good meal put to waste.â
what a cunt.
panicking a bit, you staggered into the wall to catch yourself before you started jogging for it to the opposite end of the hallway. your pace was slower than ever due to both your injury and how much energy youâve spent in the last godforsaken hour.
grunting and wincing with every footstep, you made it to the fire exit before you began rushing down the steps. there was at-least a good two dozen zombies on your tail now, and some of them were at a running pace.
you were gonna get bit for sure.
shit.
after throwing yourself down the last couple of stairs, you finally reached the ground floor.
you threw open the heavy fire door before you began half-limping, half-running your way through the apartment buildingâs lobby.
the first ray of sunlight hit you like a blessing as you staggered out onto the sidewalk, zombies chasing you momentarily forgotten.
until they werenât and you kept up your escape.
by the time youâd made it a couple blocks, you were sure you were gonna make it.
squeezing the front of your jacket and shirt which pulled it taut against your back made it less impossible to run. you were nearly back at the corner street youâd parked your caravan at.
until a sharp pain landed right in the centre of your right shin.
you stumbled before falling, glancing down at the back of your leg in panic.
it was a knife. it was the knife-
glancing up in both panic and absolute, unfiltered hatred, you saw the stranger a couple rooftops away waving at you.
like an old friend boding you farewell.
what a-
cold, leathery skin landed on where youâd been forced to collapse, heavy weight beginning to multiply as zombies piled onto you.
oh, fuck.
cold fingers began to claw, pinch, and grab onto whatever skin of yours they could find.
the first bite landed against your neck, like some zombie-vampire. you weakly managed to kick that one off with a gritted curse before another replaced it.
and another.
and another.
pain flared as another bit onto your forearm, jagged teeth digging deeper than the average zombies.
âgh-â your arms weakly shoved at any that attempted to come for your face, uninjured leg kicking against the asphalt of the road to try and push yourself into a backwards crawl.
it didnât work.
it took about ten minutes for the zombies to give up on mauling you due to your apparent inability to turn.
and you were left in the middle of the road, covered in more bite marks than even mosquitoes could produce.
the stinging from your skin was unbearable, youâd blacked out at-least once or twice.
to think, each individual bite youâd just tanked was gonna scar.
fuck.
at this point, you might just die from the blood loss caused by that fuckerâs knife in your leg.
what a stupid way to go after all youâve been through to survive.
you laid still as you tried to muster the strength to stand, but even your own persistence knew it was useless.
after everything, you died to the cruelty of a human.
how fitting.
your inner monologue attempting to lull you to unconsciousness was interrupted after about half an hour of laying there by the faint whistling of some lady gaga song.
it drew closer and closer until the sun that had been beating down on you was blocked by a figure.
please donât be him.
the whistling came to an abrupt stop as the footsteps paused, a foot hovering right over your leg.
âwhat the.â you heard the voice of the stranger.
goddamnit, it was him.
before you could try and will yourself into dying quicker, your shoulder was gripped hard and yanked to the side, forcing you to roll onto your back and expose your face.
for the first time since youâd run into the bastard of a man, he looked utterly confused. âyouâre alive? as a human?â
oh, shit, maybe heâs the evil scientist youâve been fearing.
âyouâve been bitten,â the stranger observed, gaze tracking over you without remorse. âbut you havenât turned. not even a little bit.â
you barely managed to hold eye-contact, struggling to stay either conscious or alive (you couldnât tell which was trying to take you).
the man continued to stare in genuine surprise before his eyes lit up, a wide, ugly smile displaying itself across his entire face. âthatâs useful, isnât it?â
before you could make some raspy and pathetic attempt to spit at him or bite him or something, the guy started heaving you up with one arm, dragging you into his side.
this was the worst possible outcome.
you got caught by the zombies and the evil cannibal freak.
âcome on, let me help you out a bit at my place. weâll discuss living arrangements, too.â
living arrangements? the fuck was he talking about?
you got hauled over his back, your weight completely limp and unmoving, before he started trekking like he wasnât being weighed down by a grown man.
âi wonât eat you anymore, so you can fall asleep knowing youâre in real safe hands.â
what a lie.
you werenât aware you had passed out until you woke up.
which really was unfortunate for you because now you had no idea where you were and how far you were from your caravan.
warm in that uncomfortable, sticky way, you eventually forced your eyelids open.
a cracked ceiling stared back at you.
the lighting was dim enough to enrage the pain in your temples, making you grunt in annoyance.
for several long seconds, you just laid there, trying to remember if you'd died or not.
unfortunately, the answer that emerged seemed to be a ânoâ.
it gradually came back to you, getting chewed on for what had felt like an eternity.
amazing.
the room smelled like vinegar rice, timber, salt, and cooking oils.
you frowned in observation as your gaze focused on the unlit light bulb dangling above you.
âa restaurant?"
fuck, even speaking hurt. why couldnât you have just died back there?
your throat felt dry enough to sand wood.
groaning in displeasure, you slowly pushed yourself upright to observe your surroundings.
the universe immediately punished your decision as pain flared through your entire exhausted body.
everywhere.
âow-â you flinched slightly at how much pain you were in, a quiet clink accompanying the movement.
a clink?
what?
blinking, you glanced around before your gaze drifted downward. there, you found that your right ankle had been secured to a stool bolted into the ground with an honest-to-god pair of handcuffs.
that was a bad sign, wasnât it.
âshit.â
apprehensive, you gave it one experimental tug.
the luckless answer you were met with was how tightly they were holding on to the metal of the stool.
wonderful.
now fully awake (even if hazy with pain), your gaze drifted around the room.
it was a sushi restaurant, based off the peeling signs on the windows.
a couple of tables had been shoved together into a makeshift bed, complete with layers of blankets and a stained pillow.
each window was barred with both metal and wood, the most secure youâve personally ever seen.
the counter above you was stacked with canned food, bottled water, gasoline containers, batteries and enough supplies to make you pissed off.
worse yet, they were behind a display cabinet. you couldnât reach them from this side of the counter, and you doubted the cuffs had enough give to let you climb over to reach for them.
the kitchen behind a thin folding door that didnât quite reach the top of the doorway was lit by a warm glow.
fire?
something was sizzling, distantly. you could barely hear it over the ringing in your ears and the static humming in the distance.
throat hoarse, you grit your teeth and decided to bite the bullet.
âoi, cannibal, come out here yâbastard-â
nothing audibly changed for a moment before the sizzling came to an abrupt stop, followed by steady footsteps.
heavy ones.
then, the folding door was pulled to the side and, low and behold, he appeared.
the same bastard who stabbed you, threw you into zombies, and has now kidnapped you.
that stupid fading pink hair.
that even stupider eyepatch.
worst of all, an apron saying âkiss the chefâ. this guy canât be real.
because apparently cuffing you to a stool in a sushi restaurant was some win in his book.
you glared as hard as you could and he stared right back.
the silence was long, uninterrupted, and awkward.
eventually, you decided to break it. out of spite. âyou threw me into zombies."
the stranger nodded once, accepting this as fact. because it was. âso i did."
"you stabbed my leg." continued your broken voice, not quite as pissed off and loud as you wanted it to be.
the man put a hand to his chin, pretending to be deep in thought, before he nodded again. âthatâs true.â
"you tried to eat me!â you snapped, chest heaving slightly in pure annoyance.
despite your clear resentment and overall agitation, the guy just nodded again in his stupid-ass thinking pose. "i was going to, yes.â
honestly, you were lost for words. not enough insults existed in the human language to describe this psycho.
"dick,â you ended up hissing.
grin widening, he walked a couple steps closer. enough for you to continue wanting to bite his head off, too far for you to actively do so.
âyes!â he clapped his hands together in joy. âwelcome home, annoyingly resilient survivor man.â
home? here? in some random ass sushi restaurant that was probably situated smack-bang centre in one of the most infected parts of yamagata.
fight draining rapidly, you just stared as if willing him to combust. "you live here? in the middle of the city?"
"mhm.â he hummed, wiping his fingers on the side of his apron.
"...voluntarily?"
the man brieflyâs expression briefly flashed an almost-offended look.
"itâs convenient,â he defended himself lazily.
you stared, blinking slowly as your poor, overworked brain worked even harder to process this bullshit.
youâve survived this long into the apocalypse and somehow this is the guy thatâs got you cornered.
this idiot.
this asshole.
this cannibal.
this- âspeaking of,â his clear voice cut right through your mental beration of his character as he leaned forward, elbows on the table. "youâve got some explaining to do, donâtcha?â
his words immediately made your expression tighten back into disdain.
âi don't owe you anything,â you retorted, tone blunt even if strained.
"well, i did waste perfectly good medical supplies on making sure you survived.â he informed you like it was some divine miracle.
for a moment, you just stared.
and then your gaze dropped back down to your own body.
someone had cleaned up the bites on your arms, presumably this dickhead. each and every bite had been washed, disinfected, and wrapped with neat strips of beige-coloured bandages.
even the knife wound in the back of your shin had fresh dressings.
not particularly professional or neat, but practical and efficient. clearly done by a non-medic whoâd been injured enough to know how to do it well.
or been around enough injured people.
that was more likely, knowing this fucker.
after a moment of inspection, you looked back up. âavoid touching me while iâm unconscious in the future, please.â
the man snorted in an annoying tell of amusement. âwhat? i even changed your clothes for you. youâre welcome.â
now that made you pause.
changed your clothes? as in..
slowly, almost mortified, your eyes repeated the notion of glancing down at yourself.
your fur-lined jacket that had slept with you through so many unforgiving dystopian nights had magically disappeared.
someone, unfortunately him, had replaced your torn and bloodied long-sleeve top with an impossibly clean t-shirt at least two sizes too big.
the new jacket atop it was an even looser zip-up hoodie, black in colour.
it smelled vaguely like smoke, making you wrinkle your nose.
he had changed you.
completely.
even your cargo pants were nowhere to be seen, suddenly having turned into way-too-big-to-fit black pants.
part of you suddenly wanted to check if you were still wearing your trunks, but the other half was too scared to find out.
you mentally made the decision that you were never going unconscious in this manâs vicinity ever again.
dismissively grinning, he gave your worries a lazy wave off. âdonât flatter yourself. you just smelt bad and were, yâknow, dying. was that seriously your only change of clothes?â
that worked at changing your sense of disgust from him right back at you.
in your defence, clothing was rare in this climate. people used them to sew blankets, bags, curtains, anything.
every clothing store around had been the second target of hoarders, right after the food places.
so, no, you did not have the luxury of different outfits.
mildly embarrassed, you just glared.
the silence stretched for a few, uncomfortable moments before the man got back up and disappeared right into the kitchen heâd emerged from.
asshole.
now clearer-headed, you quickly looked around for anything in your direct, limited reach that could be used as a weapon.
there was a glass cup, but it was too far from your reach, especially in your current state.
the stool was too bolted down, obviously, to be used as some blunt weapon.
the display case was made of clear plastic, not glass, like the restaurant itself had specifically made sure to be kidnap victim-proof.
you were stuck.
and now you just had to sit there and wallow in your own post-apocalyptic misery.
great.
the man returned roughly twenty minutes later with two plates, humming the same lady gaga song youâd heard earlier.
only now that you were more aware, it sounded a lot worse than you remembered.
the plate was bamboo, he really was being foolproof.
asshole.
atop the plate was a filling bunch of short-grain rice taking up a good half of the plate, clearly unseasoned.
there was a strip of nori atop it, and the rest of the plate was filled with a grilled, red meat.
this, clearly, immediately put you off.
his attempt to place the plate on your lap was met with you swatting his hand away.
"no way.â you stated stubbornly, scowling hard. âiâm not eating human."
for a moment, he stared at you blankly like you werenât speaking the same language.
then he chuckled.
âhuman is a delicacy. this isnât human.â the man informed you lightly.
you shook your head, not at all budging for obvious reasons, âi donât trust you.â
âitâs rabbit. you can tell by the leg.â
the man placed one of the plates on the counter above you, presumably his plate, before pointing at one of the chunks of meat.
unmoved, you turned your head away from him.
your action, unsurprisingly, was met with a giggle. "i do hunt animals that arenât wounded survivors, yâknow.â
narrowing your eyes, your head snapped back to glare at him. âactual rabbit?â
he nodded once, firmly.
"not a euphemism?" you double-checked.
again, he nodded. though that time, not without a scoff of amusement.
the plate landed on your lap without a fight this time, before you sniffed at it.
he watched this with a smile before he tilted his head. "so, youâll eat?"
unconvinced, you just grunted as you picked apart the meat to see if it truly was a rabbit leg and not some dudeâs micro dick.
itâs not like you had a reason to trust this crazy person to any extent.
unfortunately, the man was also watching you like this was the funniest thing heâd ever witnessed.
eventually, you decided starvation was the greater evil, and you took a cautious bite into the meat.
it was cooked well, and pretty tender considering the meat he was working with.
damnit, the guy could cook, too.
eventually, he settled on the stool next to yours. on-top. where youâd also like to be, however your cuffs were preventing you from having any chance of comfort.
again, you could not stress your distaste for this man.
âmy nameâs ryomen sukuna,â came the almost sudden introduction as he chewed a mouthful of rice and meat.
you paused in chewing your own mouthful to slowly turn your head to look up at him.
did he seriously think you cared?
after a couple moments of unanswered silence in which you went back to scooping up food with your bare hands, he nodded once. âso, you donât turn, huh?â
once again, you stopped eating.
âi stayed and watched you get bitten a million times,â the manâ sukunaâ admitted, before he clicked his tongue. âi was gonna loot your corpse, but you survived, eh?â
no point pretending, was there. you shook your head once, returning to eating as he continued to talk.
âi know some humans canât get turned and just die after being bit by the infection instead,â he reflected aloud, mouth full (gross, in your opinion. not that heâd care). âthatâs what i thought happened to you. but, nope, you survived instead.â
again, the gesture of nodding your head was far more than he deserved in terms of acknowledgment, in your opinion.
"youâve known about it for a while, then?â
you nodded once.
his uncovered eye narrowed slightly, red glinting down at you. not at all suspicious, but calculating instead.
like you were some puzzle or unknown variable in a game that he thought he had very well figured out.
god, you hated his eye.
"how many times had you been bitten before this?" sukuna questioned after a moment, the first non-yes or no question heâd asked.
exhaling in annoyance, you chewed and swallowed before answering unenthusiastically, âenough."
"ah, youâve tested it." he placed the plate back onto the counter, having eaten in record time.
unbothered, you continued chewing. the rice was fluffy, even if tasteless. it filled you perfectly after so many weeks of canned tuna and whatever scraps you could find.
part of you couldnât help but hate how nice it felt to eat an actual freshly-prepared meal again, considering it was under these circumstances.
"you know," he said after another long, painful silence, "i was disappointed yesterday. i thought iâd thrown perfectly good meat to the wolves."
oh, great, this conversation again. the reminder that heâs a cannibal and could kill you at any point just to cook you.
âiâve decided something, whatâs-ya-name,â he announced, a slow and sharp smile slowly drawing itself across his face.
fuck, you already hated wherever this was going.
"iâm keeping you!â announced an uncharacteristically happy-go-lucky voice.
hand full of rice halfway to your mouth, you paused. âexcuse me.â
sukuna tilted his head, smiling like a child with a new pet. âyou heard me.â
"iâm not a stray cat.â came your very, very annoyed hiss.
ânot at all,â smile growing into something more unsettling, he agreed. âyouâre considerably rarer."
oh, so this was a proper-proper kidnapping. explained the cuffs and being fed, didnât it?
your eye twitched.
"iâm leaving." voice firm (and quite pissed off), you informed him.
his expression did not shift even slightly. "no, you aren't."
unease began to brew in the pit of your warmly-fed stomach. âiâm literally leaving."
he gestured lazily toward your ankle, smile pointed like the devilâs, âgo ahead and try.â
"..."
"donât worry, this is the safest place in yamagata.â sukuna informed you cheerfully, face resting in his hand. âyouâll eventually realize that.â
this goddamn-
you lurched forward slightly out of pure rage, not making it far against the hard grip of the cuff. âyou tried to kill me!â
ânot since you woke up, though.â smiling, sukuna just watched as the cuff clinked against the metal leg of the stool.
right then and there, you decided that getting mauled alive by zombies was considerably less exhausting than this man.
yet, unfortunately for you, there was a sinking sensation that changing your fate was not going to be easy from here on out.
youâve been stuck in sukunaâs stupidly impressive base long enough that youâve lost track of time.
the movies usually showed victims of kidnapping going all hollow and pliant after this long.
however, youâve just got even more lively.
your back healed after about a week of forced physical therapy from sukuna, and the skin over your knife wound was beginning to stitch itself back together.
the bites had faded to ugly little teeth-shaped scars across your skin.
sure, youâd had them since the start of the apocalypse, but thanks to sukuna, theyâd tripled in number across your entire body.
now you have enough energy to argue with him again. insult him. mock him.
sukuna seemed to love it.
around the first week or so, heâd replaced the chain of your cuff with a much longer one in your sleep.
still the kind that couldnât be undone without a key, but now you could walk around the restaurant to a pretty considerable extent.
you could make it to each corner of the former eating area, and about halfway through the kitchen.
it was a welcome upgrade.
not that you thanked him for it.
so, unfortunately for you, youâve been somewhat happy. youâd rather die than admit it because, yes, it sounded insane, but you didnât wake up in a cold sweat like you used to in your caravan.
nowadays, you woke up to sukuna cooking something or going out for supplies.
it was absurdly comfortable. especially considering that, again, you were still chained to a stool in the middle of a cannibalistic psychopathâs base, in the middle of the most infected place he couldâve chosen, in the middle of the end of the world.
that last part was particularly depressing to remember.
âuno.â
sukunaâs voice broke your concentration as you glanced down at his hand, only one card held between his fingers.
damnit, he kept winning.
you took a deep sigh, inwardly praying that sukuna was not that lucky as you slowly drew a card from the deck.
of-course, sukuna was that lucky.
he slammed down his last card onto the pile with more force than necessary before throwing both arms into the air.
âyes!!â his annoyingly familiar voice pierced through your ears as he continued celebrating without standing from where he was comfortably positioned on the table.
groan.
how did he even do that?
pouting, you tossed your sad hand of four onto the pile and pulled your knees to your chest.
âno more rounds.â you announced stubbornly, to which his face fell slightly.
sukuna was quite the expressive guy, youâve involuntarily learnt. âeh? yn, weâre having so much fun!â
âno weâre not,â came your complaint, before you started properly whining. âyouâre probably cheating. either that or your luck is beyond human.â
sukuna just grinned attentively in response, tapping the now-discarded pile of cards against the tabletop until they sat in a neat stack.
accustomed to routine, you quickly snatched the damaged uno deck from his hands before he could shuffle for another round.
dignity came first.
amused, he just narrowed his eyes at you. âi wasnât aware you were such a quitter.â
you jerked your head to the side, refusing to acknowledge that.
by the time your eyes darted back to his face, he was already laughing.
stupid smile, stupid laugh.
youâd learned over your time stuck with him that he wore his face in an unsettlingly large smile whenever he was amused.
which was always.
his attitude ricocheted between boredom and amusement, either extreme being his default.
though, you supposed thatâs why he worked so hard to find entertainment in everything.
the world ending, people screaming outside, zombies clawing to get in, you threatening to kill him every morning.
nothing phased him, really.
anything was welcome as long as it provided distraction from his boredom, it felt like.
you hated the fact you felt like you understood this fucker.
and you refused to acknowledge that idea that dared pop into your mind.
people like him were the last ones you needed to be sympathising with in this situation, lest you wanted to go insane.
hugging the cards to your chest protectively, your finger began to absently toy with the top corner of them.
âcomfortable?â
you paused, finding his rhetorical question almost sudden before you realised what he meant.
it bothered you how much he brought up the fact that he knew just as well as yourself that you were content here.
there was a light pink cotton blanket thrown over your lap and draped over a shoulder. in your lap, you had the metal water bottle youâd claimed from behind the counterâs register.
gross.
refusing to accept the concept of comfort in this current predicament, you shot him a blank look.
âstill cuffed to furniture,â you reminded him as the ears of the uno cards began to bend with your fingers.
sukuna smirked. âstill complaining about that? you know i provide for you, right?â
oh, lovely. the 1950s housewife mindset.
glaring, you turned your head to eye him side-on. âthereâs more to my needs than sitting around and waiting for you to come back.â
with a completely indifferent shrug, sukuna swung his legs over the side of the table the two of you were sitting on to slide off.
âmost survivors would kill to be in your position, yâknow.â he pointed out as he stretched his legs after landing on his feet. âsecure base, well-fed, fun conversation.â
you rolled your eyes harder than you ever had before. âso? whatâs the point of even keeping me here, arenât you gonna experiment on me or something to figure out why iâm immune?â
pretending to genuinely think about it for a moment, sukunaâs eyes trailed up to the ceiling before he came to a miraculous conclusion.
âahh, no. youâre more cannon fodder, really. if the zombies ever infiltrate, i can use you as many times as i need to distract them since you donât get infected like other people.â sukuna tapped his chin once before he splayed both hands out, joyful. âyouâre like a reusable meat shield!â
â..â
what?
that was dumb, in your opinion. you understood what he was going for and all, but a whole other mouth to feed just over a backup plan?
though, you supposed he wasnât short on any supplies. a second mouth to feed was probably nothing to him.
you eyed him before you snorted. âyouâre actually the worst person still alive.â
that seemed to make him happy.
âglad you think so,â came his whimsical response before he planted both hands on the edge of the table. ânow, who wants grilled peaches?â
geez, this guy. your expression did not shift even slightly. âam i a dog?â
sukuna pretended not to hear that response and spun off to go grill some canned peaches.
this. guy.
âi hate you.â you bit out as he vanished behind the folding door, to which you got no response.
even though he definitely heard you.
ass.
the worst thing about staying strong in hating sukuna was the fact that you were forced to learn his character.
it was disgusting, how much you knew about him by now.
not that he told you himself, either. since he was determined to be some psycho with no humanity.
you just noticed, like one would notice that a small child scratches at their hands when they lie.
for one, under that eyepatch wasnât some badass scar and a blind eye. he was completely missing the right side of his face, a gruesome discolouring of flesh sitting around and atop his eye.
he also washed himself up once a day, having better hygiene practice than half the world pre-apocalypse.
he never sat with his back facing a window, and was pretty much at his happiest when he was sinking his teeth into a good cut of meat.
the reason heâd replaced the chain of the cuff with one so long was so that you could take over his previous bed and heâd sleep in the kitchen.
that specific sentiment was what made you suspect his untouchability was just for show, though you never really wanted to find out.
not that youâd thanked him for the easier rest.
you werenât insane.
eventually, sitting there and thinking to yourself about everything that had led to this moment got boring.
against your pride, you trailed after sukuna into his beloved kitchen.
the kitchen was his pride and joy in the base, and it took a while for him to trust you inside it.
it was quarter-sukunaâs bedroom, quarter-workshop, quarter-kitchen, and quarter-weaponâs collection.
some of the tables from the outside eating area had been dragged inside to create more working space for him.
the restaurant had a flimsy generator that sukuna himself repaired nearly thrice a week just to keep the freezer and remaining lights running, but other than that, he used fire for heat.
most of the kitchen appliances were broken.
thankfully, the rice cooker was not.
the moment you pushed the folding door open and went to step inside, you froze.
not because sukuna was doing weird shit (for once), but because-
was that a knock on the door?
sukuna had also paused from where he was meticulously pouring the juice from the can into a baggie.
the change in the air was instant, because sukuna was a goddamn psycho.
suddenly, he wasnât the only company you had at the end of the world. instead, he was the same man who had thrown a knife at your leg from several buildings away.
you stepped back once, peering out of the folding door and turning your head to the boarded-up windows.
before you could even attempt to see anything through the glass, sukuna bouldered right through you and knocked you straight into the doorway.
you grit your teeth. âasshole!â
of-course, he didnât care.
if there was one thing that genuinely unnerved you about sukuna, it was how he treated other humans.
and this was going to be no exception, you could tell.
âwe have guests. iâm a hospitable homeowner, you know?â he effortlessly picked up two of the steak knives as he passed through behind the counter space.
steak knives were messier, by his own definition. he claimed they werenât an ideal weapon unless you were aiming to make a mess.
what the hell was his issue?
you glared as he walked across the eating area to the front door before you quickly followed, having to quickly untangle the chain from the counter.
before you could request that he please not immediately slaughter whoever was outside, a loud bang rung through the building.
a second, more aggressive knock. zombies couldnât knock.
this was the price of having electricity, even if it only powered a grand four lightbulbs.
your stomach twisted slightly at the thought of survivors bursting in and getting you while youâre unable to escape, but mostly at the thought of sukuna deciding to do whatever he usually did.
you were already moving before youâd second-guessed yourself because you felt as though you knew where this was going.
and it terrified you.
because, even though you better than anyone knew that the pink-haired man you were trapped with was a psychotic bastard, youâd built up a fake image of him in your head.
some sort of safe place.
when sukuna was out collecting supplies, he probably left other people alone to come back to base as quickly as possible, right?
he killed zombies but left the survivors alone because he already had one who complained enough at home, right?
no, not homeâ fuck, not home. back to base.
you mentally cursed yourself at the slip.
and that image youâd built up in your head was about to shatter, you knew it.
âhey, donât-â the chain on your ankle abruptly pulled taut as you went to reach for sukunaâs shoulder where he was undoing the locks on the front door.
you nearly tripped over as your ankle was yanked against the momentum of your body, stopping you a frustrating few feet off from the entrance.
no matter how hard you yanked at it, your foot couldnât get any further. you couldnât stretch your body far forward enough to reach the front door.
this wasnât news to you, youâd tested the length of the chain a million times.
but suddenly it felt more intentional.
because you could reach almost anywhere, just not the front or back door.
goddamnit.
âryo-â
the door closed behind him a moment later. for a moment, hope flared.
could he be talking it out, but not wanting you to witness that he could actually be a reasonable person?
he was kind-of hardheaded like that.
maybe he was the same man you imagined.
instead, you were left flinching when a pattern of hard impacts began rattling the door and jingling each lock.
bang after bang after bang after bang.
what was hitting the door?
about two minutes later, when the door swung open and sukuna re-emerged with a limp person over his shoulder, their face mangled and bloody after being moulded between his hand and the door, you got your answer.
âi can finally cook you my specialty tonight.â he remarked casually as he strolled past where you were rooted in the ground. âiâll make meatballs. youâll love it.â
you took about five minutes to process his words and by then, he had long-vanished into the kitchen.
being reminded of the type of monster he truly was in this way was its own brutal slap to your face.
you really were losing it, werenât you?
itâs been dead quiet for days.
or you have, at-least.
no thanks to sukunaâs attempts at lightening the mood.
ever since he killed that innocent survivor and attempted to make you eat the meat, youâd curled up in the corner of the eating area and just sat there.
for days straight.
at-first, youâd genuinely begun to believe that it was a trauma response.
that is, until you realised you were just being spiteful after sukuna unintentionally hurting your feelings.
all because youâd somehow convinced yourself the psychopathic, cannibalistic monster was some secretly soft, misunderstood guy.
now, you were paying the price.
how gross.
naturally, you refused to tell him. he could tell you werenât traumatised or nonverbal because you were perfectly fine in more than just demeanour. your attitude recently had reflected more like a scolded child in the naughty corner refusing to speak to their daddy.
cute.
sitting on your table setup, you drew your knees closer to your chest as you watched out a gap in the boards over the windows.
there was a trail of blood along the sidewalk, youâre pretty sure sukuna caused that.
annoying, murderous bastard.
the ankle cuff had never bothered you as much as it did lately.
the fact heâd measured it precisely- hell, you were pissed off even thinking about it.
youâd seen sukuna pass by the window before the front door eventually opened, lock after lock clicking open to reveal your least favourite person.
sukuna stepped inside, jolly as ever, lugging two grocery bags slung over his wide shoulder.
as he stepped past your spot, he didnât turn to announce to you, âi found soy sauce and batteries. pretty good haul, if you ask me."
when you refused to glance at him and instead continued to take in the sights of a ended world, he clicked his tongue.
"yn, i never knew you were deaf.â
after a couple approaching footsteps, a loud clap sounded directly next to your ear, making you flinch.
this asshole-
glancing up with genuine vitriol in your eyes, you were surprised to find a gaze that nearly matched your own in hostility.
âi like a bit of defiance, donât get me wrong.â sukuna started in a purring tone before he leaned down a little closer, eyes dropping to a hard, unfamiliar glare. âbut youâd better fix your attitude âless you want me bored of you.â
shit.
that was the first time youâd genuinely shivered from his tone, and he saw it.
it only made the corners of his wicked smile creep higher.
after a moment of tense eye-contact, he turned away to dump the bags onto the front counter harder than necessary.
glass clinked roughly, making you jump under your skin again.
as his back was to you, his voice returned once more, a mockery of a lulling tone. âso, letâs try that again.â
you watched as he began unpacking his findings, his hands steady though slightly swifter than normal.
âare you done sulking, yn?â
a packet of dried noodles landed on the counter, considerably good supplies for a four-hour run.
in your opinion, it was perfectly reasonable for you to give him the silent treatment after he tried to coax you into eating human meat.
in his, clearly it was not.
after a moment of letting his question hang in the air, you finally swallowed your hesitation and forced your voice out. âdid you even try to talk to him when you went out?â
sukuna blinked before his smile returned tenfold. âyouâre still on about that random? i thought this was because i spilled soup on you the other day.â
your glare did not lessen, tilting your head in a silent nudge for him to answer your question.
not the type to budge easily, of-course.
unbothered, the pink-haired man scratched his neck in thought before he snorted. ânot at all. itâs a man-eat-man world, baby.â
the insultâ or pet-name, you couldnât decide which would tick you off worse in this contextâ only made your brows twitch downward in further annoyance.
âso you murdered him,â you confirmed.
âso i did.â head tilting, his smile only stretched further into its grotesque amusement.
your rose-tinted glasses had vanished, suddenly seeing him as a monster.
the monster he was, a man with no regard for the scarcity of fellow survivors in a world like this.
one who kidnapped you out of boredom and hasnât shown a single intent to let you feel the sun on your skin again.
one who was, bluntly, the worst.
âyou donât care for human beings?â you eventually murmured out, still half-glaring with whatever hatred you could still express.
his smile dropped slightly, feigning concern. ânot at all, should i?â
you grit your teeth and pushed yourself into sitting up straighter, palms flat against the fleece sheet over the hard wood of the table.
his attempts to rile you up worked embarrassingly well, your cheeks flushed with anger and eyes bright with defiance, unlike that petty numbness of previous weeks.
there was no guilt in ryomen sukunaâs eyes, not a glint of regret.
a realisation deeply cold finally began to dissolve into your system as your eyes darted between his, reading him (as well as you could).
youâd spent months thinking sukuna was some benevolent provider, that he was different to the first impression youâd gotten.
all because he cooked you good food, and entertained you when the loneliness got too loud, and enjoyed teasing you.
some part of you had genuine affection for him, and that disgusted you.
despite all your hatred, you still almost wanted him to turn out the same way youâd envisioned him.
and you resented him for not matching that picture in your head.
that wasnât fair, was it?
a twitching smile cracked across your face against your will, small and broken-looking.
âi understand you, ryomen,â you finally confessed after a long bout containing pure silent stare-downs. âi finally get you.â
the man in question just observed your expression, half-surrender and half-realisation, before he hummed once in distant acknowledgment.
people breaking like this was probably his favourite thing to watch, wasnât it?
you wouldnât give him that show.
âyouâre not human.â continued your determined voice, eyes set on him with renewed intensity. âyou could kill me right now and not feel anything. youâre some kind of thrill-seeking devil instead.â
sukuna barked out a sharp-sounding laugh. âaha! that wasnât bad, yn. youâre right on the money.â
ignoring him, you averted your gaze as you reflected on the entirety of your time stuck in this miserable restaurant. âi thought you were hiding some sort of soft side."
another guffaw racked him.
âthereâs nothing. itâs all just.. cruelty.â
slowly, step after step, he rounded back to the table you were on and leaned down to be face-to-face.
you instinctively stiffened when your foreheads nearly collided, turning your head slightly out of pure discomfort from the sudden proximity.
meanwhile, sukuna just stared.
âdo you feel better now, now that you think you understand me, yn?â
you grimaced before you side-glanced at him, his head still hovering unsettlingly close. âi feel less remorseful about how much death i wish upon you.â
âlovely.â his grin displayed his sharp teeth one last time before he pulled back, retreating into his own space and no longer fighting his way into your own personal bubble.
ânow, iâm going to go make dinner while you set up a game of jenga, understood, yn?â sukuna demanded without effort, a mocking tilt of his head making you want to growl like some cornered dog. âweâre back to normal now. or else.â
unfortunately, he stormed into the kitchen before you could so-much-as snap at his stupid back and tell his stupid face off.
nothing had changed after your brave confrontation.
the only thing that had was that you felt more trapped.
psycho bastard.
this one is a bit of a more out there au to what i usually get the urge to write lmk if anybody fucked wit it