𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 // 𝖔𝖓𝖊: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓
↳ cw: minors dni, dark content. proceed at your own risk. nothing major this chapter actually. sukuna is himself but a simp. reader is severely confused but is lowkey down for this bc she's me af. dead body warning i guess? ↳ a/n: i am back on my bullshit folks. sorry for the long long wait, my personal life has been a rollercoaster as always so i just haven't had the motivation to do my thang. this chapter is mostly re-establishing the bond so to speak so isn't very juicy aside from the yearning! please enjoy and stay tuned for the last two chapters! ↳ jjk masterlist ↳ series masterlist ↳ previous part
uraume was the only one left standing. they had taken the captured man into the cellars–to be dealt with once sukuna returned—only for the walls around them to collapse seconds later. they could hear his yelling–screaming. they knew it to be pain, and nothing of the physical variety could elicit such a deep response. uraume knew in their heart of hearts that the bandits had succeeded. you were gone.
and now, so was king sukuna.
they gasp softly at the sight, a shaky hand covering their mouth. sukuna can’t find it in himself to speak–to move, still clutching the remains of his wife and unborn baby close to him, face slick with his own tears and drying blood. he wants to kill uraume. he doesn’t want anyone that isn’t you. he doesn’t want to see uraume’s own grief and guilt, nor feel their empathies. he doesn’t want the pity–and just as the anger swells in him again–and he thinks he might be able to summon his voice–uraume’s gentle tone shakily speaks.
“we can make sure she comes back.” they said, glimmering tears welling up in their eyes as they survey the damage. their eyes fall on the way sukuna shivers, the new wave of intensity that coats his already terrifying presence and cursed energy. uraume realizes that sukuna is not exactly human anymore—that died with you. “i know of someone. they can tamper with these things. she will return, sukuna-sama.”
sukuna can’t look away from your face. one hand rests on your cheek, spreading the endless pool of your blood to your own silky skin. he strokes under your bottom lashes, the agony mounting in his heart stills a bit at the sentence. there could be a chance to get you back? now…he is no fool, but he would exhaust every option. if there was even a one percent chance, he would roll those dice–risk those odds. or else this world will turn into a carnal bloodbath. there would be no stopping him. if someone as lovely and perfect as you could not live a happy life—no one should. uraume would not lie to soothe his spirits either. his best servant was quite fond of you, and knows even a fraction of the sorrow weighing down their master’s bones.
“bring them.” he mutters, red gaze still fixed upon your paling flesh. he could not bear to leave you. if this person does exist, then uraume must find them and bring them to him. uraume nods, bowing their head. two tears slip from their cheeks and hit the fractured flooring below them. the castle is in such disrepair it will likely never be liveable—that much was out of his control. or better put, out of his perspective to consider in the moment. the house was full of memories with you, all of your design inputs and floral arrangements you so loved to make. the castle had a wing dedicated to the little ayame, forever his precious baby daughter. the castle still held your very soul, and now– his own remains it seems—the castle is destroyed. the room that you’re in creaks—the walls and ceiling and floor crumbling in on itself. but uraume knows that sukuna will not budge until they return.
“right away, sukuna-sama.” their voice pitches up a bit, the grief thick in the air. but as quickly as they had come, uraume departs to find this sorcerer they speak of. uraume meets a host of intriguing individuals on their business travels—some become more useful down the line, and some just serve as favors for later. this individual has an incredibly powerful technique—but needs even stronger alliances. uraume knows this can be risky—but they cannot sit idly by and watch this torture.
they travel for the better part of a day, but make it to the location. they had shared ale in this inn with a fellow weary soul before—and they could only hope that he would be here now. they barge into the bar area, scanning the room for familiar cursed energies and faces. their desperation must have been clear. for the very man that they were searching for approaches them.
“uraume, you look quite panicked!” the soft and feminine voice says, and uraume immediately folds their arms over their chest.
“kenjaku. i see you’ve selected a new vestige for yourself.” they comment neutrally, though silently wondering what kenjaku had in store from a new sorcerer’s flesh. “this one suits you.”
kenjaku chuckles. “ah, why thank you. that is the highest of praises. you seemed in a hurry—or better yet, looking for someone?” the woman smirks up at uraume, a beautiful young lady fallen victim to the brain inside.
“i am. king sukuna is in need of your help.” uraume stifles the smirk that tugs at their cheek, knowing that kenjaku longed to ally themselves with the great and feared sorcerer that is ryomen sukuna.
the faceclaim of kenjaku’s eyes widen three sizes. “oh? is that so? what can i do for the incredible king?”
uraume looks to the side. “just follow me. it will be easier to explain then.”
so kenjaku does, suspicion not lost on him entirely. uraume leads the way back to the castle, a chipped silhouette on top of a high hill.
“something horrible has happened.” uraume says in a way of warning, to get kenjaku to mentally prepare for the sight he is soon to see. it took their journey many hours, but as uraume leads kenjaku back to the room you used to share with your husband, their fears are confirmed. sukuna hasn’t moved an inch, hasn’t relaxed a muscle—they can’t be sure he’s even breathed since they left. kenjaku takes a quick look at the destruction—the body in sukuna’s arms, the emotion thick in the air between them all, and sighs. something horrible truly has happened, and the earth can surely die for it. he knows he has to do something—anything–to save the planet from sukuna himself. he is a powerful ally—the most powerful, to be sure, but that makes him the most dangerous enemy…or threat to anyone, even kenjaku himself. he has to play this the long way.
“master, this is kenjaku, a sorcerer i met a few moons ago. he has experience in these matters.” uraume says as gently as humanly possible. sukuna still flinches somewhat—more of a heavy blink if anything. he begrudgingly turns his head, surveying the traditionally dressed high class woman that uraume addressed as kenjaku. he’s heard the name before—and heard several distasteful rumors to go along with it.
kenjaku hums. “your wife. when uraume and i met, they spoke of her most highly. what a tragedy…”
“bring her back.” sukuna commands, just before a growl. he doesn’t want a strangers pity. he doesn’t want a stranger assuming how tragic this is–they have no idea what he’s feeling right now.
“it is not without great cost. and it won’t be immediate. i can only ensure she reincarnates in her original form, with original memories. they would have to be locked away of course, but we can sort out the—”
“what is the cost?” sukuna interrupts, uraume eagerly watching the volley between the powerful sorcerers. he doesn’t care what he has to do. you will return. he will find you and bring you back to him, you will come back home. the gods must laugh at him now, at their cruel jokes. he has never known an emotion as pure and powerful as your love—only his grief could perhaps match it. the gods gave you to him, and they have taken you away. they must forget who he is. he will fight gods. he will fight time and space. he will die a million deaths if it earns him a second of your touch.
“you must be captured until then. until the woman connects with you again, but do not fret. i can ensure that you are split and protected. you are powerful enough to fragment into one hundred pieces—if you desired.” kenjaku smiles knowingly as he explains, but uraume is the one that feels the most unease.
“do it.” sukuna says unflinchingly. he would much rather be some soulless emotionless object for the duration of your absence anyhow. this was a win-win as far as he could consider.
“wait, one hundred is far too many. how could she interact with all of them?” uraume asks, turning their attention to kenjaku.
“well, she needn’t interact with every piece, just one. but fine…let us do twenty. one for each of the king’s fingers. i think that would be rather fitting!”
the feared king only nods, his madness and grief making his cold calm even scarier than before. now he has the thin thread of hope that this is not his last time holding his bride. the hope burns in his gut, like cool fire. “enough. stop blabbering.” he murmurs again, lowering his lips to your forehead, now icy.
“excellent. you won’t feel a thing…”
and in truth, he does not. he is only aware of his existence—lying in wait of the time he truly desires. your return, and his incarnation reuniting you again. there is nothing but darkness and void of black, his thoughts and cravings for you—until that day.
“oh shiiiii—did he really eat that thing?” you ask, looking over at megumi fushiguro incredulously. “he just–does things–before he really thinks about it–i’m sorry about him, really!” your sweet voice nervously apologizes for your friend yuuji itadori, your fingers wrapped around his face in hopes you can pry that creepy withered finger out of his throat.
megumi groans, running a hand through midnight locks of hair. “it’s no use, he’s going to die. no one is supposed to consume that cursed object. it’s the finger of ryomen sukuna.”
at the sound of the name, something within you pangs. it’s like it has a hint of familiarity, though you’re sure you know nothing of cursed objects and their consumption. you’re no stranger to the creepy—in fact you’re sort of drawn to them. as an avid participant in the occult club alongside yuuji, you found yourself obsessed with the idea of there being more to life than meets the eye. you have a special intrigue with heian era japan—yuuji and you meant to tour some tourist attractions and museums this weekend. that’s it! the name, you’ve seen it in books before. he’s a cursed god, they say—no man, just monster. a feral beast with four arms and eyes that terrorized clans and villages with his ruthless bloodlust and carnal cruelties. some say he is legend, some defend the stance he was a real man–at least he was man at one point, and evolved into the king of curses. but those are books. it’s a fun debate meant to be a fairytale of the past—and here this stoic looking boy is saying that yuuji is gonna die because of this…mythological creature? you glare at megumi, hands still cradling yuuji’s jaw. you go to spit something back at him—how incredulous it was to say such a thing—when yuuji stirs.
his fists ball at his sides, he’s realizing he is in fact alive. his chaos can reign free on the world again until his queen is replaced by his side. then he hears it—the familiar tone, the lilt. never in all of his life could he forget such a song. his beloved. and your hands, so warm and soft against his face. his eyes flutter open, and you still haven’t quite realized it’s not yuuji looking back at you. the look in his eyes tugs at your heart, you can’t quite name the emotion in them, but he can. centuries of longing, grief, and insufferable pain. he smiles though, all cursed and pointed fangs spreading yuuji’s face into an evil grin. he is in a delirious state of mortified joy. here you are. after all of his crying and longing, for all of his challenges shouted up to the gods—here you stand; just as beautiful as the day he lost you, whole and the personification of sunshine. and he would be trapped. sealed, tucked away behind this little boy clawing at his soul to regain control—panicking about sukuna touching his best friend. but nothing could steal this moment from him, his eyes drinking you in with a thirst he can’t yet quench. “my bride…the threads of fate have woven us together once more.”
his voice takes you aback, shock coating your features as you recoil from him. he catches your wrists though, chuckling at the confusion on your face. that was notably not yuuji’s voice. perhaps this way too serious guy had the right idea. but it’s the words he speaks that truly capture you. his bride. that fate has restored you back to each other—but you have only heard of him through passed down history books and special occult club projects—you weren’t even convinced he was real until about right now. what is this about his bride? you tug uselessly, trying to claim your arms back, “i–i don’t know what the hell you’re talking about-”
“feisty as always~” he smirks, pulling you closer to him. you stumble off balance thanks to his shameless manhandling, crashing against his—yuuji’s—chest. megumi shifts closer, even he is aghast and at a loss on what to do, but he knows gojo-sensei will arrive soon. sukuna presses his face to your hair, inhaling deep, arms locked around your waist, “you don’t remember now, little queen. but you will…” he hums, sniffing at your neck, grinning wider as you squirm.
it’s almost amusing that you don’t recall him right away. that the gods even now have more jokes left to play upon him, his beloved bride obscured behind a blocked path. but ryomen sukuna would move the planets and stars into a new alignment to bring you back to him, now he is just one step closer. he is balmed by the sight of you, alive and so brilliant even now he can hardly stand the sight of your glow. none of these maggots should even breathe near you, the queen of curses. you are too righteous for them all. you will see. and you will bring him back in all of his true glory—then nothing will ever take you from him again. the earth can explode and you will still be in his arms.
something does awaken. it is not a memory—but it’s tied to one. webs slide around his hands, his wrists, forcing him to turn loose of you. he laughs maniacally, “yes, my little spider—there she is!” you manage to pull yourself back, megumi grasping the hood of your sweatshirt amongst the ruin of the building and now the chaos of sukuna’s return.
“i didn’t know you were a sorcerer.” megumi states plainly.
“i don’t know what that means.” you blink at him, heart still racing in your chest. there’s so much going on your brain can hardly process it all at once. sorcerer, sukuna, cursed object—yuuji’s somehow under the boot of all of it. you just shot webs out of your hands for the first time in your life and this once-thought myth of a monster is regarding you with familiarity. more than familiarity, really. before you can react further, a tall man shows up with shopping bags, a blindfold around his eyes. he seems amused by the scene, laughing at a bloodied megumi and snapping pictures of the action. he looks at you with that same amusement, eyebrows raising as megumi explains loosely what’s happened and the remarks sukuna’s made—your own spider-like abilities that seemingly woke from a deep slumber.
“your cursed energy. it’s linked. to his.” the tall man snickers, shaking his head slightly. “what a case!”
“of course it is linked to mine. she is my bride reborn. if any of you maggots touch her i will be dining on your bone marrow by noon.” sukuna snarls, already sizing this gojo sensei man up. you don’t know what to make of the situation by the time they’re sparring, only looking at megumi with the hope he may offer some clarification. your hope is for naught.
new terms, cursed energy–apparently you have some. and it is tied to the ancient demon king you thought was meant as a scary bedtime story to make children listen to their parents.
your life has changed in the course of mere minutes. yuuji reclaims use of his body, and gojo loosely explains what’s going on. he’s very casual about it, which puts you at ease. but now yuuji is landed in their hands as the “vessel” for ryomen sukuna—and you have to come in tow as the soul connection tied to him.
by the next morning, you find yourself in another realm. almost literally. the campus isunlike something you have ever seen before—a new uniform and dorm room waiting with your name on it. yuuji and you are to be kept separated for now, until gojo-sensei returns from his meeting at the very least. the head-spinning sensation hasn’t let up, and sleep can’t claim you through your drive of anxiousness. being separated from yuuji truly is the worst case scenario. he’s all you have here. even if…he now comes with a demon that’s obsessed with you. you sit on your bed, looking at the new uniform that would signify your enrollment here at jujutsu tech. gojo’s wish for you to get some rest bounces around your head as you sink down onto your bed. it’s been a brutal eight hours—and your mind is a mess. sleep can’t come soon enough. maybe if you just lay down and close your eyes…
when you wake, it’s not the same room you went to sleep in. no, this is a far more lush bedroom—obsidian walls and gilded archways, marble flooring and windows that seem bigger than normal. you sit up in the bed, lilac silk spilling off your shoulders, black satin blankets and thick furs spread around you. a red sheer fabric billows in the wind of the open window, the smell of burning wood and perfumed oils drifting through the room. you rub your face, heart spiking again at the unfamiliar surroundings—and his voice comes again.
“this was our room…our marriage bed.” his deep, gravelly tone caresses your body where it lay in the bed. it fills you with a certain longing, a warmth you recognize but also aren’t used to. you whip your head side to side, trying to locate the source. but he isn’t physically there—despite the heat breathing down your neck and his voice purring in your ear. “you look so much better here…right where you belong…”
“what’s happening—where am i?” you narrow your eyes suspiciously. you feel the pressure of a hand brush your cheek.
“i told you. our room. our home…it is a dream of the past.” he hums, his voice dripping with sorrow. something within you is inclined to trust it.
“i don’t understand this…past you’re talking about.” you admit, shaking your head.
“not yet. i will bring you here…i will show you it all until it comes back to you…and you come back to me.” he says, thick voice laced with his undying determination and desire. “i have waited lifetimes just to hear your voice. i will wait as long as it takes for my queen’s return.”
you stare ahead at the ornate mirror, studying yourself in the heian era styled robes, the style of your hair. is this why you have always felt inclined to study it? was your soul always longing for this connection? your brow sets as you ponder this, even your fascination with the occult seems to allude to your previous lifetime on this earth.
he chuckles, and it is a rich and comforting sound, surely only to you. “you’re thinking hard, little queen. sleep, instead. let me gaze over my beloved soulmate once more.” your face burns with his proclamation of romance, and you tell yourself it’s with embarrassment, not genuine fluster. his voice commands a certain degree of obedience, though you can’t convince yourself he is a threat, despite your best efforts. you lie back, and though you cannot see him, you feel him smile. “good girl. sleep well.”
and…really…you do. his omnipotent presence seemingly soothes your brain into a deep sleep, buried in the dreamscape of your former bedroom. sukuna watches as promised, utterly intoxicated. he has wondered once or twice if this is reality at all. if this is truly his wife before him, simply waiting on her memories. he remembers kenjaku’s words–that your memories will be sealed. but if your power is showing through already, surely that means your memories will follow. he just has to keep pushing. keep fighting himself and anyone else that may dare corrupt you, defend his wife from any outside threat until she can be properly restored. but for now, he is contented by the sight of your sleeping face, the steady rise and fall of your chest, and the sound of your heart echoing in his ears. it has all been worth it. every moment spent in agony, wishing upon every deity and god that you would find him once more. it has been worth it, just to hear your voice speaking to him, seeing you safe in his domain. it isn’t real…he knows, but your connection to his soul is. he can always keep you safe here, warm and cared for like you were all the way back then. surely it means something, that you haven’t pushed back. you’ve only asked questions, and obeyed his wishes. perhaps it is implicit in you, perhaps deep down you recognize him as safety. either way, you will know you are his.
and as gojo makes his way back after his meeting with the higher ups with such a grim expression, sukuna knows he will have to go to lengths far beyond to ensure that fate works out in his favor this time.
tags: @neon-crow @skypperlegacy @gis4greenandgreenisgre4t @alastors-radio @alltimenogoaway-blog @tragedyofabrokensoul @gojosukuna2268 @hannas16 @alwaysfreakingout @thepurpleempath @pelicanpizza @aenishas @satsuk-jjk @catobsessedlady @gucci-basura @eiaaasamantha @asukahiriko @t4naiis @thejujvtsupost @mymelx @maskedpacific @berranurates @enchantingartisanwitch @celena-alanze @shuujin @nikki-demi @ankitavminkook @katthekat1234 @ezpressocookie @elita1 @sc3n3g0re
