The King of Curses finally meeting someone on his level and ending up marrying him.
Fluff(?), possessiveness, mentioned of murder/killing, threats, slight ooc, tall reader.
Imagine being the husband of Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, a being said in hushed whispers, his name carrying enough weight to send even the most seasoned sorcerers trembling. To most, the very idea is laughable. Who in their right mind would choose to love, let alone marry, such a monster?
And yet, (Y/n) did, he was the perfect match.
He was tall, maybe even taller than Sukuna himself in his true form, (Y/n) was the definition of grace wrapped in unlimited power. With a voice like calm thunder and eyes that flickered with mysterious wisdom, he carried himself with an ease that suggested he had seen way worse than the King of Curses.
When Sukuna first laid eyes on him, it was supposed to be just another day of bloodshed. He sensed power, thick, ancient, divine. That’s what drew him. What he found, however, was a man standing in the ruins of a battlefield where bodies began to rot, he was there not with fear, but with curiosity.
“You’re not afraid of me,” Sukuna had spat almost angrily, his four arms cracking with cursed energy.
(Y/n) simply tilted his head, letting a lazy smile stretch on his lips. “Why would I be? I’ve seen uglier things.”
The insult might’ve cost another limb. But Sukuna laughed.
It wasn’t just the comment. No, what made his black heart twitch was what happened next. He launched an attack, one meant to kill , not test, not tease. And yet, with a flick of his fingers, (Y/n) deflected it. As if swatting away a fly.
“You really are powerful as they say,” he said gently, his voice almost warm, like silk over steel.
Sukuna's grin twitched. He hated the idea of being impressed, even more than that, he hated being curious and (Y/n) was nothing if not intriguing.
Now a married life with Sukuna was complicated. Yes, he was more beast than man with a taste for destruction, suddenly, he stopped attacking villages ever since (Y/n) raised a finger and simply said, “No.” Sukuna hated being told what to do. Except from (Y/n), it wasn't an order, it was expectation, and for some twisted reason, he obeyed like a dog.
Right now, the two stood on top of a ruined cliffside, the sky changing orange from a dying sun. Wind tugged at (Y/n)'s robes as he leaned back on the rocks, arms crossed, watching the horizon.
Sukuna was staring with intensity.
"You're too soft." He sneered. “It’s disgusting.”
(Y/n) chuckled, brushing hair from his eyes. “And yet here you are, with me instead of gutting someone.” Sukuna grunted, arms folded, the mouth on his stomach grinning while the one on his face scowled, his eyes looked forward but one of them were always attached to his lover, husband, spouse? It didn't matter.
“Don't test me." He grunted, saying it like he meant it.
“Oh my, how romantic,” (Y/n) teased, tilting his head.
In truth, Sukuna had never known peace. Not until him. Not until those stupid warm hands that could level a mountain instead chose to hold his face so gently. Not when nights spent in silence, laying beside a man who could probably kill him, and still kissed his face after every battle.
Despite his hatred of love, he might’ve started to feel it, or something dangerously close. He didn’t understand, didn’t want to. Love was weakness, it was foolish, disgusting, fragile. Whatever this was, this need that graze at him every time (Y/n) so much as looked away, it was somewhere deep, cold inside him.
His sharp nails dug in as he held the man tightly, the divine warmth of (Y/n)'s body pressed flush against him, standing between his spread legs. One hand yanked him back by the waist when he tried to shift even slightly, the other gripped the back of his thigh, firm, possessive.
Sukuna’s nose found the crook of his neck, breathing him in like he was starving. “Try to leave,” he growled, low and husy, lips brushing against skin, “and I’ll kill you.”
It wasn’t a threat. Not really. It was a plea, wrapped in bloodied instinct and biting hunger. Because the thought of him gone, of that warmth suddenly disappearing, twisted something cruel inside him. (Y/n) didn’t flinch or laughed at his face. He hummed, soft and calm like always, arms coming around Sukuna’s shoulders as if he were embracing a lover, not a monster.
