ꕥ you're sick and sukuna pays a visit at night to tend to you while you are asleep. fluff. pining. pretty short. kind of bullshit.
wc: 1.2k
extra: i am sick, like i am sick but not sick enough maybe so this might be just a BS post. but im coping here, i have tests next week and i want to be admitted ASAPPP
heian era| gn! reader x heian!kuna | Master Binder
you were sick. ill. had a fever. the plague. whatever you want to call it, whatever it was, you felt like you were dying from your throat to everything else.
but even so, sukuna saw you trudge through the day with a handkerchief always in your hand and constantly over your mouth when speaking. he saw you diligently check over the girls who worked under you, nodded respectfully with the cooks, doing your job as normally as you could.
and he gives you credit, somehow, you managed to finish your day as usual, only disappearing twice to rest. which meant you were sleeping on the job, or the floor in this case. you weren't proud, but you knew that it would be worth it if it meant everything went smoothly.
that night, you feel your sickness spike once more, sneezes became messier, head became foggier, ears warmer, just general discomfort all over.
"a good night's sleep.", would cure it, you told yourself.
you barely managed to change into your nightly robes properly before flopping onto your thin mattress. pulling the covers that has been worn out too much over you, you closed your eyes and fell asleep almost immediately.
around midnight, sukuna came. arrived at your door with uraume, both pairs of arms crossed, uraume held a trey of warm water and a small cloth.
the ominous pair sat beside you, sukuna didn't tear his eyes away from your tense face. it was so unlike any other expression you wore, it was perplexed even when you were supposed to be unconscious.
but what stir something inside the king stronger wasn't that you were sick, but that you were as vulnerable as you were. this is the heian era, sickness isn't as curable as it is right now. medicine exists, but not enough for people to be completely at ease when they start feeling the sniffles.
especially since medicine is only created by and mainly for monks and aristocrats, it's not easy for peasants or everyday citizens to get their hands on.
sukuna knew this and brought nearly everything from the palace pharmacy, he knew not about each herb or antidote, but he brought it as a last resort of sorts.
uraume briefly murmured the ones they recommend for your illness, and with a single look from their lord, leaves without a trace. but in their cold nature, you shiver as the amount of people in your room decreases by one.
with that, sukuna start dipping the towel in the steamed water, straining out the excess water, he folds it neatly to put it on top of your head. and places one of his towel beneath your head for the sake of your damp hair.
hands that dealt the deaths of millions, rough from destruction, limbs that only knew how to attack and spar, now they lay a small cloth on top of a 'fragile' human head. sukuna knew he wouldn't hurt you, he had that much self control, but still, it never hurt a man to be careful.
you always had managed to bring out this unsureness that he never knew lay dormant in his burning soul. this extra layer of caution whenever it was you and not another face in the crowd, you summoned a version of sukuna that sukuna himself didn't recognize. but perhaps that is because he denies the effect you have on him.
how your pattering steps across the court would always somehow call for his attention despite how much it doesn't concern him, how commanding you were, how careful you were with details, never accepting anything less than utter perfection for those who were stationed above you.
and yet, woke up earlier than everyone else to rid of anything that could become a problem later in the day. and at the end of each day, if the lord was lucky, he would be able to see you walk parallel to the setting sun, your eyes soften at each dusk.
oh how mother nature seemed to favor you with each season, each bloom, each famine, each flood, each harvest, each cloudless sky with you stumbling through the field of weeds, sukuna was almost jealous at how each scenery that had the blessing of standing behind you, seemed to revolve around you.
he fixes your robe politely, loose ends were tightened with his help and care, now fastened to guarantee more warmth. sukuna disappears once and comes back as soundless before, now with a thicker blanket in his arms to help compensate with that sorry sack that maids called 'covers'.
but as he slides open the door, he is startled at the sight of you crawling out of the bed for the alluring warmth of the small tub of steaming water. your movements were sluggish and not nearly as coordinated as usual.
you were awake, just not sensing a single thing. you let out a cough when sukuna hauls you back to bed, reapplying the soaked towel back on your forehead. your eyes were barely open, shoulders squared even after sukuna veils you with his second layer.
he wasn't expecting you to wake, but with this given opportunity, he mixes the recipe uraume whispered to him that night. it smelt of herbs and the feeling of steam teased your freezing body, and you turn to the side with the warmth. sukuna had to fix the towel once more because of how often you were shifting.
in the hour he spent with you uninterrupted, he tended to you silently, not a single word. not because he was worried of waking you, but because it might give away his position. yeah, sure.
he watched over you, how your face was more relaxed now that you were bundled up tighter and more secure. it made him feel like you were safer, and he made sure you swallowed all the medicine he had given you.
when you seemed to sleep more soundly, he holds one of his hands out. and it barely grazes your cheek, before he retracts his hand. he hesitates, not wanting to scare you or wake you. that is not the impression he wants to leave.
sukuna wanted you to look at him properly, he wanted to see you light up at the sight of him, not straighten your back and bow. and helping you sleep well is done and feel better just to make that happen.
once he is satisfied at your pacified state, he leaves. but arrives at dawn to take the extra blanket away because once he thought about it, something uncontrolled started spilling in his chest at the thought of you with something of his. you draped in something of his.
so when you wake up, you feel much better. after drinking some water to help with your throat, you started your day, much more bubblier and sharper than the day before. carrying on with your tasks as the dutiful employee you were.
and when someone asked you how you got better so fast, you pause, but then you smile. and while you can't see him, sukuna sees the exchange, listening with extreme concentration.
"perhaps the result of a good night's sleep."
of course, anything to see you shining. you'll look at him one day.
Part of my series, Deadheading - trueform!sukuna x reader
Abandoning the horrid past and moving towards a bright future
Synopsis: How Ryomen Sukuna grew from a weak, frail child into the feared King of Curses. All with a little love, of course.
Description: Heian!era sukuna x reader, yes he will be true form. Childhood friends to lovers, I feel like thats the omly way he will truly love someone.
Word count: 223
MASTERLIST
Note: I'll try to post every 1-2 weeks
Nothing is immune to corruption. Not the plants commonly described as strong, persevering organisms, nor the animals praised as pure, innocent beings, incapable of sin and acting on pure instinct. Especially not the humans, who greed, lust, pride, envy, and wrath. The very humans who do as they wish, neglecting their duties and overindulging. Nevertheless, shadows are but the presence of light. Everyone’s light is different. Some find light in their hobbies, some in others, and some in the beauty of the world.
But for an abandoned child, ostracized for his monstrous form, any source of joy was nothing but a distant dream. For a child whose sides are lined with two arms each, whose face is adorned with double the eyes, and whose abdomen has a horizontal split making way for a maw decorated with rings of serrated fangs, one above and one below, all there is to think about is survival. There is no time to satiate his wants.
But nobody is helpless. The broken can return into their most glorious state.
This was proven true once he met a child as pitiful as he, who, despite her pathetic state, maintains a pure heart, reaching out a helping hand. Only once he’s looking up at her smiling form, waiting for him to join her, does he notice how bright she glows.
ꕥ a brief summary of sukuna and his relationship with his second command. fluff. reader is a bit tsundere coded. heian era. historians would call them best friends(?). alcohol consumption. not as proofread as it should be.. sorry.
wc: 1.4k
extra: another one for the gays bc i said so this was inspired by this post from me. + honestly this feels more like a prologue/intro to explain this dynamic, so sorry about that
you prided yourself on your ability to summon dignity and demand submission from hordes of men with a single glare. the way composure seemed to be second, even first, nature for you. your stout stature that easily brought, or forced, out the best in those around you.
you were always regarded as a man of few words, so you always had to make up for everything with actions. whether it be slaughtering an entire army, clearing fields of men, bending enemies to your will, or planning convoluted operations.
sukuna knew this. after all, he was the one who placed you in the positions you ran in the first place. the king wasn't one to deny your intelligence and skill.
but this all also meant that he was very familiar with your less obvious quirks.
as a man who wouldn't talk simply because he doesn't want to, even when battle was waged, while many people have come to learn about you through gossip, defeats of their team or the victories of yours, sukuna had come to learn about you through your body language and eyes.
it's easy to be blinded by your own habits, but nothing really got passed through sukuna.
to say you two were lovers might've been a generous label.
sukuna, on paper, had you as his second in command, a right hand man, his second opinion, if you would. before this, you two were rivaling powers: a rising super power and a powerhungry warlord. it was a match made in hell.
but to say the relationship was strictly professional is a lie.
some historians wouldn't care to write it, but the two of you were recorded to often share the best sake the country had to offer under the moonlight or that his personal quarters always had an extra seating cushion for his one and only.
uraume saw the tension themselves. how often they'd see the two of you standing so tall together, both of you crossing your arms, glares ever so stern, and you were always on his right.
the two of you would talk from dusk until the sun had portruded through the horizon line, until incense would burn out entirely. and you were always the first to leave.
sukuna knew deep down that his feelings for you weren't ones of simple fondness or tolerance, he wanted you. this was not a relationship between a general and his king, you two sought out for each other too much for such a proper title like that.
and he knew that these sentiments were mutual.
as a prideful and boisterous man, it takes one to know one. even if you showed your overeagerness in a different, less obvious way, he still was able to tell.
behind your rigid mannerisms and cold cut miens, he saw through your pragmatic facade. you loved pretending you were all mighty and objective, cut from your emotions and attachments- after all, that's how you were able to keep going despite committing the crimes you did.
but you're not as secretive or nonchalant as you might hope. sukuna sees it all behind the closed doors.
the restless bounce in your leg when things weren't going exactly your way, the ways your eyes seemed to mirror the success of each mission, the simple existence of the difference of expression between winning a battle and winning a war on your face was enough for him.
and that's just when it's about actual business. once things got personal, you were a melting mess of elatedness and dread.
the king of curses knows that you rather be skinned than admit you want to see him. the way you'd start spending a suspicious amount of time in areas he frequents, you'd stare at him very intensely until he looks your way, like you were trying to melt him with your glare alone, then you just continue as you do.
you'd also start small talk, a dead giveaway, this tactic is only used when you were very desperate for something (him). forcing a natural "how's the calf" while a meal or asking about uraume when you knew more about their whereabouts than him.
sometimes (almost all the time), sukuna enjoys pulling on your strings, pushing your buttons and hinging your jaw. it's cute to him, how after the last man leaves, you start slumping towards him, only for him to get up and leave. which is ironic considering how every other time, you leave almost immediately. that's another sign.
half assed answers is another way, he watches very keenly for that small twitch in your reaction, whether it be on your face or in your body.
fact is, he can read you like an open book. and he loves flipping through your pages to get you even just mildly annoyed.
one day in the hot summer, you just weren't having it.
your men were pissing you off, you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, the sun was too bright, and now, yorozu was talking too loudly about something you don't care about to sukuna.
you silently entered the atmosphere, trying not to lose it under the weight of the squealing and just overall loud talking. a sour feeling swirls inside you at the sight, you didn't even look in their direction.
sukuna wasn't replying to anything in particular, but he did notice your saunter in with that worn out look. a look that told him that if it weren't for your stubborness, you'd be passed out on the floor.
you looked like the embodiment of exhaustion, by the looks of it, he concluded that you were seconds away from snapping and killing a man.
you leave the room after a craving for alcohol kicks in.
without taking a sakzuki, you grab some a porcelain bottle without a hitch.
the sky was clear, the air felt clear. and felt even more clear after the first chug.
the cool breeze felt heavenly as you laid on the engawa, thoughts weren't swirling- merely bubbling and foaming out of existence as the sake took over your thoughts.
time passes by in heavy silence, all until you hear the door open. you don't turn your head to look at his face. you don't want to see his expression right now, not after the scene in the last room.
but sukuna sits down like the entitled man he is, taking up space, even taking a swg at the bottle you had taken, effectively draining the lot. you only sigh lightly.
the salmoned haired king raises an eyebrow at the muffled sound, he looks at you properly now. your loose posture, your drunken composure, your hair sprawled out a tiny bit. he rests his cheek on one of his four palms, one of his bigger hands grazes the ends of your hair.
"you drank all of it.." you groan, covering your eyes with the back of your hand, mildly annoyed.
"that'll be a problem when you learn to handle your alcohol,", he sneers with his signature smug smile.
you tilt your head towards him, and in your drunken haze, you shift a tiny bit. your head anchoring towards his palm, like him being there was pulling your body towards his, like a moth to a flame. his body heat was something you felt like you needed in this breezy night of a day that felt too loud.
you didn't smile, but you just seemed to curl against his hand, not yet touching, for even if you're drunk- you're not that stupid to make such a move.
and now, with him right there, you close your eyes.
after a long moment of silence, sukuna raises his arm again. this time, he lightly carresses your cheek with his knuckles run ragged from battle, your skin is warmer due to the alcohol, but still softer than him.
under the moonlight, with this lack of formality between the two of you, it's easy to forget that the both of you have blood of many on your hands, waged agony of thousands, if not, millions.
from an outsider's perspective, the two of you could be seen as just two men with a special fondness that's reserved specifically for the other rather than two vile men who hurt for the sake of power.
he stays by your side as you slip into a deep sleep, scooping you up as he takes you back to your chambers.
with that reset, the dawn comes to shine over the king of curses with his one and only trusted warlord.
ik i made it seem like i'd be doing yuji x reader but uh,, coming soon i think..
i might write more abt this bc i have an idea for more fics with their dynamics lols, originally there was going to be more pda but i thought it wouldn't match so i scrapped it.
im sorry i jsut think that a relationship (early stages) with sukuna would be quite slow, but the vibe would be like: professionals who've done too much with each other vibe tbh
sakazuki is this btw, it was made during the heian era perfectly yeayyyy
ꕥ you both had a fight and you decide to drink your feelings away at the fujiwara stronghold, sukuna comes and get you. fluff. sukuna wants you lol. bad dialogue. sukuna takes care of sleeping reader. sassy reader/sukuna. sukuna kills woman. cw: alcohol consumption/death.
wc: 2.3k
extra: this is a technically a part 2, idk i just love writing this dynamic and i have an idea for another fic, i wrote a structure that was a bit different- let's hope we can get it.+ IM SORRY, I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WRITE GOOD DIALOGUE
you don't remember why you decided to drink yourself into oblivion, but you were too gone even care.
within your memory you remembered some details. due to some complications, you and sukuna were to be separated for a while. you were staying at the fujiwara clan's stronghold a bit earlier than when he will arrive.
you were there to monitor the meeting between sukuna and the clan as sukuna's second in command, and yet, here you were, drunk and bored out of your mind after a long day of travelling to the country's capital.
on a whim, you decided to have some women recite some poetry.
her voice was lovely, pitched and tuned into an mellifluous harmony that soothed your inner turmoil, soft hands flipping through scrolls to recite what would please you. laying out on your stomach, she sat composed in front of you as you looked at her through your lashes as she continues.
arms folded into a headrest for you, the words flew in one ear and out the other.
under the relaxing atmosphere, with the soft cushions and the incense, her sweet voice. you were being lulled asleep. except it wasn't. you were just laying there, her voice was soothing but you weren't be soothed that well.
it felt as if a child's expectation wasn't being met with the storytelling skills of their parent.
on the other hand, sukuna was nothing short of pissed.
you were having an attitude. a couple days prior, you were extremely pushy on something you wanted approved, but it was too passive for his liking. and when he turned you down? it's very safe to say that you didn't take that well.
scoffed at him for his "brutish nature", his inability to read between the lines, his insatiable need to have his way (even though you were the same). in hindsight, these were petty jabs, but sukuna was pricked by these needles because he knew you didn't mean it.
out of all the warriors he's faced, he knew you understood him the most. almost always were you two on the same page, same level of hedonism and cruelty, the same want for your opposers to be crushed and burned.
but that day, you were especially being a brat, and it was the last interaction between the two of you before you had left for the fujiwara clan. an itchy and uncomfortable note to leave on, and now, it's been two days, but sukuna has been very irritable in regards to everything.
with a mood that was dipped in agitation and sprinkled with temper, the king of curses has reached the stronghold.
skipping the low bows and words of praise, he quickly scowered for his second in command. directions in a shaky voice were given and he was off.
nearly breaking the sliding doors, he scouted. he finally reached you after some light (and destructive) searching.
with an easy slide of his fingers, the woman drops dead. your head turns to look at him, and your expression sours, the sight of his face reminds you of why you were away from him in the first place.
you start to army crawl away from him, finding something to lean against as you felt too sluggish to do so on your own.
sukuna just glares at your pathetic show of transport. the tension is too suffocating between you two; personally, you were ready to use the ultimate weapon of an uncooperative attitude while he really didn't have any time for your games.
you grab for the corpse's hand and try to pull on it as if it was rope, when the hand slides off cleanly, you groan and just push yourself up, it was taking you a bit of time to figure out what to balance you with.
when you turn your head back to him, you let out another dramatic sigh, as if seeing his face was pissing you off… which it was.
alcohol made you even more petty than when you're sober. but a drunk man's words is his sober thoughts, right?
"why would you ask someone else to recite poetry for you? you know i am much more well versed." he raises an eyebrow, not even sparing the dead woman a glance.
"and why are you scared of making business moves?" you slurred out, but then you register his response. you blink and look up at him.
"is the poetry aspect really the line you draw?"
sukuna doesn't answer, he simply sits in front of you and stares dead straight into your eyes. you stare right back at him, a frown grows on your lips as you sigh in defeat. defeat of what? not even the king was sure.
you let out a hiccup. "guh, you never play a fair game with me…" you grumble underneath your breath, slumping against the table.
without a word, sukuna reaches out and moves the alcohol away from your grasp, earning him another glare from you.
"you're being so difficult, that treaty was utter nonsense and we both know it." he scoffs at you, your temper boils at the notion of him insulting your courteous skill.
"i don't remember you contributing any sort of stratagem to do anything" you shot back, reaching for the drink.
"how could you when you've been drinking like a madman recently, at this point i'd be shocked if you remembered what you had this morning."
he grabs your wrist, "stop wasting your useful brain on becoming a drunkard. if anyone else had your intelligence, they surely wouldn't be wasting away like you these days."
"i drink when i'm stressed. and you, my king, are extremely stressful to work with." you retort with a sharp glare.
"for someone who claims to be the essence of equanmity, you sure let me affect your mood often." sukuna comments, striking another nerve. when did he ever back down?
you whip your hand back to your body, freeing it from sukuna's grasp. you knew that he let you go, had you been someone else, surely he would have crushe the bones in the entire arm. rubbing your wrist like he had burned it as you sluggishly prop yourself up.
"we have things to do here, could you act any less—"
"oh please." you cut him off, flipping hair away from your lidded eyes as you scowl at his stoic expression, his lack of reaction was starting to piss you off now.
using a quick hand, you managed to take a swig at the sake before pointing at the king of curses and going off on a long rant.
the man with four eyes barely listened to anything that came out of your blabbering mouth. your vocab was strangely still intact, spouting out your reasons for writing that treaty the way you did, how appeasement and easy reprimands would be better in the long run, but it flew into one ear and out the other.
after letting you explain two reasons, he still wasn't convinced at all, he grabbed your face by the chin to effectively shush you. except his fingers were digging into your cheeks, toying with you even further.
"i think i'm letting you get away with too much, you're getting awfully bold these days."
"you think?" you muster out.
he squishes your cheeks harder, unamused, but glad to see a casual spark ignite between the two of you.
he unclamps his hand on your face, you massage your face and sigh. the late nights and drowsiness were kicking in now, and without a word, you shuffle next to his big body.
"are you finally calming down?" he asks with a tilt of his head, talking to you like you were a rowdy house pet, you didn't appreciate the tone. the evidence of the disdain was plastered on your face, but sukuna has rarely stopped just because of that.
"will you at least—" you start.
"no, forget it."
with that door closed, you just let your entire body weight on his side, closing your eyes as you have no reason to whine anymore. his word was absolute, and even though you're eager to break that unspoken rule, you just couldn't muster that fight needed within you.
you haven't been with him for an uncomfortable amount of time, he's not happy with your treaty, you have been drinking too much lately and because of it, your mood sours too soon.
after days, sukuna finally sees you in the most calm state he's ever seen you within this bump in the road. it's a sight he's always willing to look upon, like it was the morning sun rising for a new day.
he doesn't move for a long time, just staring at your sleeping figure, your head hanging low.
his upper left arm, the side you weren't occupying, rose to pull you closer. so then, rather than being on top of his arms, you were now on the inner side of his arms, practically within his embrace.
the surrounding warmth only lulled you to an even deeper sleep, leaning against his chest to keep sleeping.
sukuna doesn't blink as he stares at your sleeping face. the spot under where your head lays grows warm, but that doesn't explain the growing hearth that spikes in his body. like a lava block being plopped into some water, the heat spreads fast, but it doesn't show on his face of course.
the feeling isn't unpleasant, in fact, it doesn't feel unfamiliar.
he can't name other times where he's felt it though, the feeling you against him scrambles his ability to do so. but it feels familiar, and it feels right.
so he doesn't budge, and lets you snooze on his chest. a hand curls around you and the upper one approaches your face, almost as if he was going to cup it.
and for a moment, he hesitates. the act of holding a face, felt so heavy with intent. intent that he had yet to feel, to control.
or maybe, he's only saying that because it's you.
his lower arm lays heavy in your lap, his long sleeve acts as a blanket for you. and you don't seem like you're going to wake any time soon, he can tell from the rhythm of the rise and fall of your chest, that you're very deep asleep.
so what's the harm?
his hand grazes your cheek so lightly, the sensation barely registers on his calloused hands.
this feels like it's not allowed somehow. holding you this close when you look as peaceful as you do, or just holding you this close anyway. maybe it's the tension.
while the explanations and borderline excuses start to circulate in his head, his body already knows what he wants. your hair gets tucked behind your ear by him, a cliche act, but he was always one for classics.
without knowing it, as minutes melts into the cycle of your breaths, his red eyes, always so keen and sharp, soften. he looks at you with a gaze no one has seen before.
maybe it's the amount of time the two of you have spent with each other, the close bond that bloomed in between the meetings and operations. the unspoken truth is that when the line starts to blur and the reasons get vague, it was starting to become an excuse to see you.
and having you sit in his arms after an argument fueled by tunnel vision, suddenly in this candle lit room with a corpse, it felt oddly right. as if after everything, when the sun sets, you should be by his side.
he stared at the body and decided it's time to go. so he scoops you up, only this time, he holds you with arms supporting your back and under the joint of your knees.
he walks silently to not disturb you, when you stir, he grumbles for you to stop. he finds the room he was appointed, nothing short of luxurious and comfortable, as expected of the treatment towards a man like sukuna.
he settles you down on what's supposed to be his bed, pulling the covers over, until it was at around your shoulders. you rouse at the shift in temperature and softness, not that you minded what you had before.
he locks eye contact with you, and he freezes, but only imperceptibly. you just look his way, blinked, then laid back down to sleep. clearly, you were beyond tired.
you were taking up much of his bed, and he impulsively lays next to you. since you're in the center, barely a half of him was able to be in the mattress, but he couldn't find it in his calloused heart to mind.
the sight of you at peace brought him a strange placid feeling as well. like he was put at ease simply with you resting and being healthy next to him. or just, not chugging alcohol like it was a sport.
he doesn't hate this. he doesn't hate this at all. and that's what confuses him, in the past, he hated dealing with you, especially post drinking night, but now it doesn't seem to matter or annoy him as much as it did before.
tomorrow, he'll probably have a fight with you again to fully clear things up about the treaty.
tomorrow, you'll probably have a headache that you'll complain about, and he'll be the only one to hear it.
tomorrow, he'll have you at his side the entire time.
he stares at you longer, and an unreasonable, inexplainable urge crashes over him. itching at him to get closer to you.
but he sits up, the act snaps him awake from this trance that felt like he was getting intoxicated by you. your right arm isn't under the covers, he sees it, and to fulfill this.. craving for you.
he holds your hand for barely a second, just long enough for him to feel his skin against yours. then he pulls away politely, to not wake you of course, which is news for anyone who's heard of him.
oh god, he's acting like a lovesick drunk even though he's completely sober.
Abandoning the horrid past and moving towards a bright future
Synopsis: How Ryomen Sukuna grew from a weak, frail child into the feared King of Curses. All with a little love, of course.
Description: Heianera!sukuna x reader, yes he will be true form. Childhood friends to lovers, I feel like thats the only way he will truly love someone.
Note: I'll try to post every 1-2 weeks!
TAGLIST - comment or contact me to enter!
Masterlist:
Prologue
A peek into the start of their story
Chapter 1: Seeding
Everything and everyone is interdependent. Such is the requirement to live.
Everyone is interdependent. Such is the requirement for life.
Part of my series, Deadheading - trueform!sukuna x reader
Synopsis: how Ryomen Sukuna grew from a weak, frail child into the feared King of Curses. All with a little love, of course.
Description: Heianera!sukuna x reader, yes he will be true form. Kind of childhood friends to lovers, I feel like that's the only way he'll ever love someone romantically.
Word count: ~1.1k
MASTERLIST
Note: I'll try to post every 1-2 weeks!
He stared up at the villagers in disbelief, back slamming against the ground. Despite the underlying murderous intent behind their warm personas, Sukuna had never thought they would outright betray him. Feet harshly kicked and bruised his body, his heartbeat thumping violently over curses and insults endlessly voiced in the background.
His mother, the sweet woman she was, tried her best during labor, straining her body to its limit. Unfortunately, there’s only so much the human body can achieve. His extra appendages tore through his body, four arms and uneven face ripping her apart. Her screams of terror didn’t last the entire night – the extensive, painful experience was simply too much for her.
She died in labor with the moon at its peak.
The village cleric had no choice but to pull him out herself, blood spurting out and staining her clothes. The villagers naturally didn’t take the horrific sight lightly, demanding for his execution the moment he was born.
His father, however, refused to give up on him. He fought for Sukuna’s right to live, watching over him for days in a row without a moment of rest. Eventually, he won the uphill battle, securing Sukuna’s safety. The villagers had agreed to leave Sukuna be, albeit reluctantly. The icing on the cake was his father’s status as a powerful warrior who chose to live out the rest of his days as a lumberjack, the merciless physical extortion polishing his muscles and keeping his body in shape, restricting the villagers from resorting to violence.
Ever since the beginning, Sukuna was feared and untouchable.
The other kids naturally avoided him, constantly warned by their parents to avoid the ‘monstrous, unpredictable kid’ living by the forest. With no one to play with, he either spent his time exploring the woods or helping his father lumberjacking. His extra arms proved to be quite useful, providing his family with a small boost in their monthly income.
Fourteen years pass, and here he is now, exiled from his own home. His father had left for a short trip; apparently, there was a horde of monsters by the capital city, and because of his experience as a warrior, he naturally was summoned to help eliminate any threats.
He spent the rest of the day wandering around, desperately searching for shelter, even considering staying at a neighboring village. He quickly realized they’d drive him out too. Eventually, as the sun set, he stepped into a cave, hoping for it to be unoccupied. With a pouch of food in hand (he managed to snatch one while getting dragged out the village), he carefully treaded into the cove, noting a few bats resting above him. Sighing, he let his guard down, dragging his feet towards the end of the cavern in search of rest and relief.
To his surprise, he was greeted by a terrified, shrieking girl, probably a year younger than him, her trembling hand pointing a knife at him. He jumped back in surprise, getting into a fighting stance, analyzing the frail body. She paused, eyes flicking up and down his own.
Breaking the silence, she spoke up, “abandoned?” He nods, shoulders relaxing and arms dropping just a little; tense, but not threatened. She hums, “same here.”
A few extra beats of silence pass, and he decides to sink down against the wall of bumpy rock across her, eyes refusing to leave her form. He eats this way, quietly chewing and assessing her.
“Hey. What’s your name?” Her eyes met his, awaiting his response.
“Ryomen Sukuna.”
“Nice to meet you. L/n Y/n.”
He offers a grunt in response. The silence stretched on again, interrupted once more by her voice. “I was thinking.. Maybe we could stay together? It wouldn’t hurt to have someone watch your back. It means we can scavenge and cover more ground. More safety for the both of us. You in?”
He pauses, contemplating. Maybe it was worth it. “Deal.” She grins, deciding to try and lighten the mood, “then, starting today, we are partners. We must never forsake each other. Promise?” He huffs in response, offering a stiff nod.
The rest of the night was spent in silence, both of them resting in the cave. He even offered to keep watch. She agreed, though hesitant.
About a week passes, and they live off of a stream, berries, and traps they built to capture small critters. Sukuna rests in the cave, back against the stone wall. Frantic footsteps interrupt his momentary peace, and he opens his eyes to the sight of her holding a piece of cloth stained with red. He only raises his eyebrow.
“Don’t you get it? I started my period!”
His eyebrow quirks higher.
“Oh my gosh. Don’t tell me you don’t know what that is.”
He stares at her blankly, and she shrugs her arms out in frustration. “I’m bleeding, Sukuna! Women bleed once a month for about 7 days. We need something to handle all the blood! It’ll attract monsters!”
He clicks his tongue, trying to hide his exasperation, reluctantly standing up. “What must we do?” “Get pieces of cloth from somewhere. A village must have it. We just don’t have the money.”
“Then we steal.”
“What?”
He doesn’t repeat himself, walking past her with a tired sigh. “Wait here.” She scoffs, running after him. “Absolutely not!” He pauses, staring down at her in confusion. “You are bleeding, yes? Are you not in pain?” She punches his arm with a groan, earning a subtle flinch of surprise (though it didn’t inflict any sort of damage). “No – well, yes, but I’m still going! You might need backup. We can also carry more if I go.”
He pauses.
“Understood.”
Since that day, the two gradually got used to sneaking around and stealing to get by. She grew faster, stealthier, never returning with empty hands. He learnt to take advantage of his extra organs, eyes keeping watch of the perimeter, hands grabbing extra loot.
Months later, they return from an unsuccessful heist.
“I told you to be more careful.” He hisses, wrapping her bleeding arm with cloth. “I was! Some kid caught me.” She replies, voice gruff and sour, muttering under her breath. “Stupid kid called for his parents too.” He tightens the bandage, and she yelps in surprise, kicking him. “Be more gentle!”
Taking a deep breath, he steadies his emotions, begrudgingly proceeding to tend to her wounds. Just as he begins to apply some ointment, his ears pick up on small sniffles. Looking up, he’s met with the sight of a crying girl, turning away to hide her tears.
“...I apologize. Does it hurt?”
“Take a wild guess!” She scoffs, punching his shoulder again.
That night, with her blood staining his hands and her cries clawing at his ears, he learned something very important.
Part of my series, Deadheading - trueform!sukuna x reader
Synopsis: how Ryomen Sukuna grew from a weak, frail child to the feared King of Curses. All will a little love, of course.
Description: Heianera!sukuna x reader, yes he will be true form. Kind of childhood friends to lovers, I feel like thats the only way he'll ever love someone romantically.
Word count: ~1.3k
MASTERLIST
Note: I'll try to post every 1-2 weeks!
Sorry for the long wait!!
Nights pass, the moon growing with Sukuna’s strength. He strains his body with merciless training, promising himself to never be disrespected again.
You, of course, didn’t understand why he was grunting and groaning outside the cave every night, frustrated at the constant interruption of peace. Could he just tone it down?
Despite your complaints, he continued his torturous onslaught on your much-needed rest. He brushed off your comments with a huff, turning around and resuming what he calls ‘practice’. You appreciate his efforts to grow, truly, but you needed to grow too. With sleep, to be precise.
“Ryomen! Must you disturb my wellbeing in such a disgraceful manner?”
Like usual, he huffs in response.
Baffled, you stomp your way over to him, planning to yell at him the way you always did.
Surprisingly, as you swung to hit him, an array of sharp blades followed, forming out of thin air and aiming for his back, mysterious wafts of energy surrounding them. Sukuna, sensing the sudden presence of cursed energy behind him, quickly backed off, splitting the blades with an invisible slice.
“Was that necessary? There was no reason to lunge after my life!” He scoffs, glaring at you with murderous intent, ready for the possibility of betrayal.
“Wait! Stop, stop. I don’t know how I did that. Promise!” You yelp in surprise, staring at your hands with a mix of wonder and fear.
“Were you planning to inform me of your Cursed Technique?” He grumbles, an obvious sarcastic touch in his words.
“What even is a Cursed Technique!?”
—
After a skeptical Sukuna explained the world of sorcery to you, you only stared back blankly. In normal circumstances, you would laugh in his face. Unabashedly. Unfortunately, just moments ago, you had created blades out of thin air, apparently with Cursed Energy, or whatever Sukuna called it. His father taught him, he said.
“So, you’re saying I can do magic?”
“...Yes. It seems so.”
“Then I have to train too?”
“Obviously.”
There went your hopes of getting a good night’s sleep.
You fought back the urge to whine in response, though secretly grateful to have something to rely on in case of overwhelming danger.
Sukuna continued to explain the world of Jujutsu, theorizing that your Technique had something to do with creating objects out of Cursed Energy. Luckily, you have tons of that, Sukuna said, so you’re basically an infinite generator.
—
The following days were filled with extensive and grueling training, resulting in the both of you needing extra food. You were still teenagers, after all.
Luckily, your powers proved useful. Heists were much more bountiful, often with loot the both of you couldn’t bring home, despite Sukuna’s extra pair of arms. You could throw rocks to create distractions, knock things over with a flick of your wrist, and even have things be carried out towards the both of you.
Sukuna grew to be a much better guard. His defense grew much more powerful, many villagers having their ankles sliced before they could chase after the both of you.
So far, you didn’t need to resort to murder. You hope you never will.
“Where is the fish?”
You sit up in response, his voice echoing through the cavern. Furrowing an eyebrow, you begrudgingly reply. “In the basket marked with the fish symbol?”
“What? There is no such thing.”
Sighing, you make your way over to the hulk of a man, showing him the aforementioned basket.
“That is not a fish.” Eyes squinting in disdain, baffled by the insane lack of artistry present in the illustration.
“It is! How do you have four eyes and still be unable to identify such an obvious symbol? My art is beyond excellent!”
“Right. It surpasses the grandmasters themselves.” Muttering, he opens the basket, prepping some fish for dinner. He did say he enjoyed cooking.
Rolling your eyes, you grumble, flopping back down onto the makeshift mattress (which was really just a pile of pillows and furs). “Not my fault. Ran out of fruit for pigment.” Huffing, he responds, “it’s about time we stock up on essentials. Winter is near.”
“I’ve been thinking.. Why don’t we get a permanent home?”
“Shall we?”
“Actually?” Immediately shooting up, your eyes dart towards him. His eyes drift around the cave, analyzing the barely-tolerable living conditions. Lopsided shells on the walls, lined with insects hoping for food to forage.
“Of course. We could find an abandoned one. Though it is much more efficient to raid one.”
“But then we’ll have to kill the people inhabiting it.”
“Not if we take them prisoner. Having servants tend to us is very pleasing.”
Humming in response, you stare up the ceiling, brainstorming the many options. “What about the master of the house? A noble won’t let us go so easily.”
“A noble? Are you wishing for a large estate? We could simply get rid of him.”
Your cheeks blush, embarrassment setting in at the realization. He never mentioned a noble’s estate. Maybe you were much more greedy than you thought.
At your silence, Sukuna lets out a huff in response, turning around to hide an amused smile. “Very well. We’ll look for an estate at midnight.” Face contorting in shock at his declaration, you immediately interject, “midnight!?” “Of course. The night will conceal us. It’ll also serve as practice to master your Cursed Technique.” He replies, irritatingly smoothly, sharpening a knife.
—
And find an estate you did. Examining the layout of an estate on a cliff, the both of you turn to each other, clearly satisfied. “Shall we?” Sukuna smirked, the thrill of battle already creeping up on him, sending goosebumps through his skin.
—
Entering the battlefield, Sukuna jumps headfirst, overpowered with surges of energy. You, on the other hand, take a more careful approach. It is your first time using your technique to kill.
Soldiers charge towards the both of you, and you notice that Sukuna is much more merciful than usual. Perhaps he was leaving some for you?
A trumpet sounds, sending a distress call throughout the entire estate. A second horde of soldiers rush out the building, followed by the shrieks of what you assume to be from the nobles and servants of the household. Sukuna nods towards the squadron near you, signalling you to take that group as he takes the other.
Taking a deep breath, you prepare yourself to massacre.
Though guilt fills your bones and flows through every breath, you don’t stop. Focusing your Cursed Energy, you rain down a myriad of blades, guiding them to swerve through every beating heart.
The night passes with bloodcurdling screams and the scent of death, blood staining your clothes.
As the sun rises, you make your way in together, recruiting every maid willing to serve. When you make your way into the kitchen, you both flinch in surprise at a child with Cursed Energy. His hair is a shiny white, two large, red circles on each side of his head.
The child jumps back in surprise, and you notice that his Cursed Energy radiates from the storage room. While Sukuna watches them, you take a quick look inside, only to see frozen meat lining the shelves, each cut perfectly preserved.
“Sukuna. Come.”
At your call, he peeks into the storage room, and you, in turn, shift to keep an eye on the child.
He grunts, clearly impressed, turning around. “Hey, you. Serve us or die. I will not ask twice.”
Jumping up in surprise, the kid frantically nods his head, “Yes, yes of course!”
At last, you and Sukuna have a proper home, complete with servants at your beck and call.
