olivialau

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch.35

Sukuna x Reader

---------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 35 - Tug of war

Sukuna.

His eyes burned with the same hellish red as the anger flaring hot in your chest—a fury you desperately needed to release but couldn’t... The words were lodged in your aching throat, still raw from swallowing steam—and lies.

So instead, you resorted to a feeble:

“You can't be here.”

If that sentence was all you could choke out right now, you'd at least make sure your disgust rang clear in the way you turned away from him, rolling onto your side so your back became a wall of rejection that spoke louder than any words.

The window groaned when Sukuna dropped inside, his footsteps controlled, quiet. He was suppressing his cursed energy damn well, forcing you to track his movements by sound alone.

Each footfall sent tiny creaks through the floorboards, and a stir of air ghosted across your back as his steps finally stilled. You could feel his eyes burn into you, the stretching silence snaring your breath—until it shattered with the hiss that uncoiled from his tongue.

“I shouldn't be here?” His voice waltzed along the edge of mockery before plunging into cold annoyance. “Is this your newest act? The martyr pretending she's without leash?”

Sukuna's hand slid around your neck from behind, nails biting into flesh as he trailed along the curve of your throat, painting an invisible collar to remind you of your status.

“Those guards had to die, brat.” His claws dragged down over your clavicle, and goosebumps rose in their wake.

“Be grateful I wasted my breath warning that patchwork freak not to gut your precious classmates too.” You stiffened as his finger reached your shoulder, hooking into the hem of your infirmary gown.

“You’re the first pest I’ve ever granted such a favor, so do not make me regret the effort.”

With a harsh tear, the fabric surrendered to his claws, and the cold night air seeped through the gaps in your now-exposed bandages...

Sukuna tilted his head, his gaze lingering on the stained gauze. “What’s this?”

Oh really? He was going to feign ignorance now?

You barked a laugh. “Don't play with me, Sukuna. If I'm a martyr, then you must be a saint.”

Now, the sheets too, vanished in a violent tug. His hand clamped around your wounded arm, pulling it toward him without any regard for human anatomy—you were trapped between following the motion onto your back or letting him wrench your shoulder from its socket.

His face hovered above yours, all four pupils slit with rage as he shredded the bandages with a flick of his finger.

Raw, blistered flesh glared back—

“I said—” He yanked your arm upward, forcing the oozing burns into your line of sight, so close that your own hot breath became another layer of torment against the wounds.

“What. Is. This?”

He wouldn’t let this go—wouldn’t let you go until you answered him. You knew him well enough by now to know that. And the pain built with each moment as his fingers prodded the molten skin.

When it came down to either breaking your silence, adamant on not stating the obvious, or breaking down in tears, the former did seem... marginally less degrading.

“Burns,” you forced through clenched teeth.

Sukuna discarded your arm like a filthy rag, letting it collapse against the cotton. He turned away, his shoulders taut with tension, and released a growl that would've sent lesser demons running.

“Tsk. Those idiot teachers would really send their students to fight a curse instead of tackling it themselves, huh? Hypocrites.”

God, was he truly going to maintain this charade?

“Those idiot teachers weren't here, Sukuna! ‘Called away for an emergency mission?’ Really?” You quickly lowered your voice, aware that drawing any attention here could turn this fever dream into an absolute nightmare...

“Take your bullshit somewhere else and leave me be.”

His fingers twitched—a minute spasm that would have gone unnoticed if you hadn't spent so much time learning to read his moods. They curled slowly into a fist as he angled his head, pondering your words, parsing the implications.

“An emergency mission...?” he repeated, dragging the words out slowly. “What convenient timing…”

Duh? Wasn't that exactly why he and his puppets had orchestrated it this way? So why was Sukuna acting as if it were news? Either he was taking this prank way too far, or… or he genuinely didn’t know about the teachers' absence.

The bedframe creaked beneath you as you shifted, straining to catch a glimpse of his expression—leaning to see if you could discern his intentions… but as your fingertips grazed the edge of the nightstand, searching for balance, they met only empty air.

Shit.

Your other arm shot out, lunging for the stand—only to knock off the entire tray of medical supplies on it. A bottle of antiseptic shattered against the floor. Pills scattered like marbles, syringes rolled into the shadows, and the metal tray capped off your calamity with a resounding clang as it hit the floor.

“Shit—!”

The curse barely left your lips before footsteps answered—quick, clipped, and growing louder down the hall. A second wave of panic hit and you whipped your head toward Sukuna.

“Go,” you hissed, gesturing frantically at the window.

He didn’t so much as glance in that direction though. Instead, he turned fully toward you and arched a brow. “Ordering me around now, are you, brat?”

“Sukuna—Hide. Move—!”

The footsteps halted outside your room. The strip of light beneath the door blocked by two white nursing shoes.

“Please,” you whispered a final time with pleading eyes.

But he only scoffed, rolling his shoulders back with languid arrogance.

And then,

The knob turned.

The nurse—a young woman with a clipboard clutched to her chest—stepped inside, closing the door behind her as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. Her gaze darted from the wreckage on the floor to your hunched form, then to Sukuna.

“Wh-who—?”

The question died in a wet gurgle.

The room exploded in a splash of crimson as the nurse's body crumpled mid-step. Her uniform bloomed with deep gashes, as though invisible claws had raked through her flesh, and her clipboard clattered to the floor—the pen rolling to a stop at your bedside.

The bucket was in your hands again before conscious thought, your body convulsing as bile and horror surged up.

Sukuna watched, impassive, as you threw your guts out.

“What?” He dragged a thumb across his jaw, smearing a droplet of blood.

“Her petty screams would've summoned every pest in this hive. You ought to kneel in thanks I spared you the audience.” His upper eyes narrowed, the lower pair locking onto you. “Or would you have rather witnessed the slaughter of every fool to come scurrying?”

Words failed you.

There was only vomit, tears, and white-knuckled fists strangling the bucket's rim.

The pool of blood crept closer, its edges lapping at your toes as you muffled your sobs into the crook of your arm.

From behind you Sukuna clicked his tongue. “Quit the bawling,”

You flinched as his hand clamped the nape of your neck. He wrenched your face toward the corpse—her vacant pupils staring through you.

“Tears won't stitch her back together. You know?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing his words to dissolve into nothingness, but to no avail.

“Now clean up the mess, brat, seeing as you knocked over that tray.”

Of course.

Of course he’d make this your fucking fault. His cruelty wasn’t just in the killing—it was the mind games. He just couldn’t help but torture you because he truly is...

“You’re a monster, Sukuna.”

No reply. Just the creak of floorboards as he stalked to the corner of the room.

Was he leaving?

You’d rather not be left alone in a room with a bloodied corpse… but being here with him right now was infinitely worse.

To your surprise, instead, the sharp crack of what sounded like a cabinet door being forced open echoed through the room. Paper rustled. Leather scraped against wood. Pages were being thrashed around.

What was he doing?

Thud.

The sound of a book slamming shut jolted your spine straight, quickly silencing your sobs. Before you could look up, the bucket was torn from your grasp and Sukuna’s face filled your vision—

“Open it.” He shoved a crumbling tome into your lap.

“What is this?” you croaked, throat still raw.

“An order.” His claw tapped the book’s leather cover. “Do it.”

Your hesitant hand hovered in the air, trembling as you read the cover through the cracks in the leather—Cursed Histories, Vol. II. You’d skimmed it during your first week at Jujutsu High, back when Sukuna was still just... ink and an old legend.

Why was he showing you this? Curiosity took hold and you pried the pages apart.

The book fell open to a massacre.

Swirls of ink depicted mountains of mangled bodies, villages consumed by fire, and rivers running red with blood. At the center of it all, him—a beast with four arms, a staff, and a hungry maw splitting his abdomen.

“The King of Curses... The inevitable conclusion to every tale your kind spins,” He flipped the pages for you, each revealing more of the same horrors.

“You know who I am. You’ve pored over these pages. You watched me gut your neighbor just yesterday. Yet this”—he ground his heel into the bloody puddle—“is where you draw the line?”

“It makes no sense, woman—”

It makes no sense.

You gritted your teeth until your jaw ached.

He was right—it didn’t make sense.

This rage, this grief... Could it be that it wasn’t just about the nurse...?

Instead... was it the weight of everything you’d been carrying?

Your past, the binding vow, his deceptions. Hell, even the simple fact that he’d been particularly awful to you today.

And, most haunting of all, the realization that even as he obliterated that poor woman, you couldn’t extinguish your interest, couldn’t sever your pursuit of him.

You were drowning in this murky in-between—a moral twilight where you still distinguished right from wrong, still mourned his victims, but couldn’t bring yourself to hate him for it...

Sukuna cocked his head, fingers capturing your chin with impatient force as he watched you ponder.

“Your horror is selective,” he whispered.

His thumb grazed your lower lip, smearing a fleck of blood you hadn’t realized was there. “It’s only shocking when it happens in front of you, isn’t it? When the blood stains your own socks?”

No—no that wasn’t it.

It was just that, lately... your horror was drowned out by even more disturbing feelings whenever you gazed into his eyes.

“Is this all just a performance, brat? Afraid to admit you’re as much of a hypocrite as the rest of them? Or maybe you’re terrified you’re starting to turn into something like me...”

He smirked at the last line, his eyes glinting as if eager to see how that would unfold.

And in that moment you understood.

This... thing between you and him... it wasn't survival, nor was it some sort of coexistence.

This was a game.

You'd known all this time that it was a game—known it so deeply in fact, that playing it had become second nature.

You'd known, and yet... you hadn't known.

Its ultimate purpose had always remained just beyond your grasp—until now.

A battle to reshape each other’s very essence...

Your fingers twitched.

The book in your lap shook with each nervous tap of your feet. The ancient King of Curses stared up at you from the pages, and those same four eyes stared down at you from above.

Beckoning you to play.

So play you would.

You seized the brittle parchment, grabbed it tight, and ripped—not just the pages, but the entire narrative. A satisfying shriek of tearing paper. Again and again. Until every page was shredded to bits, all his conquests reduced to confetti.

“I’m not like you,” you spat—not yet, anyway.

That was the unspoken covenant between you wasn't it? A cosmic tug-of-war.

He, the ancient evil, methodically testing whether he could corrupt your humanity, see if he could strip away your ‘petty moral constraints.’

And you, inexplicably drawn to him, determined to find the fragments of something redeemable buried beneath the centuries of bloodthirst. And if not—to create that something good in him from scratch.

Turn by turn, until either his cruelty or your morals gave out.

And... winning wasn’t a totally ludicrous idea, was it?

Because you’d just destroyed sacred records of his greatest conquests—an act that would have earned anyone else immediate annihilation. But instead, a look of fascination crossed his features as he watched your rebellion.

He was changing too.

Or perhaps he just saw it as progress on his side—your willingness to desecrate hallowed texts suggesting the first cracks in your moral foundation.

Well, little did he know that in destroying his legend, you were declaring your refusal to accept him as unchangeable.

The King of Curses was not immutable—not to you.

The tattered pages fluttered between your fingers, and for a moment, the nurse’s body was forgotten as the blood cooled.

Sukuna laughed—a deep, rumbling laugh that made the bed tremble beneath you.

“There you are,” he purred, crouching to your level. You could almost hear his thoughts—recognize the challenge in his eyes.

A worthy adversary.

“Now let’s leave,” he commanded. “I’ve wasted enough time in this cesspit.”

He straightened, already pivoting toward the window as if breathing Jujutsu High’s air for another second might infect him with their sanctimony.

But your own gaze drifted to the nurse’s mangled remains, your heart clenching with guilt, before it made an anxious leap at the realization that—

“We can’t just leave it like this. They’ll think I—I killed her.”

Sukuna paused mid-step, shoulders tensing. “You need my help for everything, don’t you, woman,”

Slowly, he turned, lazily stretching his arms out above his head. “Fine... I’ll torch the wench.”

He stalked back toward the corpse, his heel crushing a stray pill into a fine powder beneath his foot. A clawed hand flicked toward the blood-smeared floor. “You,” he said, “Wipe this rot away.”

Asshole.

You glanced around the room—barren of any cleaning supplies, not even a towel to spare. “With what?”

Sukuna pointed toward the shredded book pages littering the ground, a sardonic grin spreading across his face. “That’ll do. Or your bare hands—I’m not particular.”

Absolute fucking asshole.

You glared at your wounded hands, sighing in resignation. Snatching a fistful of the book’s shredded pages, you dragged yourself to the edge of the blood pool.

“I’ll get you for this,” you hissed, nearly gagging as you smeared the first arc of blood.

“For all of it.”

“Promises, promises,” he sing-songed back, each syllable a honeyed poison.

Your nostrils clogged with the metallic stench of death as you continued to scrub. The ink illustrations of Sukuna’s past atrocities leaking into the blood, blending history with fresh carnage.

You peeked at him from the corner of your eye when he crouched.

He said he’d burn her but... could he even do that?

With a simple gesture of his hands and an even simpler word—

“Fuga.”

Crimson flames erupted from his fingertips—scorching ribbons of fire that fed off all the oxygen in the room and seared themselves into your retinas. When they made contact with the poor nurse, her body didn’t burn; it disintegrated—no flesh melting off bone, no stench of char—only the faint hiss of atoms breaking apart without even the dignity of smoke...

That’s how hot his flames were.

Soon the final embers lingering on the tips of his fingers died—Sukuna dusted the nonexistent soot from his palms and slowly rose up.

“Efficient, no?” he purred as he leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest.

“Now quit gawking and finish scrubbing.”

“Go to hell,” you muttered, hurling a clump of sodden paper at his feet. Turning back, you stretched your arm into the shadows beneath the bed frame, reaching for the last of the blood.

The nurse’s pen glinted in the shadows.

It would never check another chart, never scribble out another prescription... Biting back a fresh wave of guilt, you retrieved it, wiping it clean with trembling fingers before straightening up.

What it would do: was write one last petty excuse.

You grabbed a surviving fragment of parchment from the floor and uncapped the pen.

Couldn’t sleep. The pain is manageable. Returning home to rest properly. Thank you for the care.

It was the least you could do to make sure your friends never had to worry about you again.

A soft click of Sukuna’s tongue drew your attention back to him. To your surprise, he’d taken initiative to erase the final evidence—the bloodied scraps, the scattered medical supplies—even the blood-stained socks you'd taken off earlier, were gone now...

The room was back to normal—as if nothing had happened at all. Only microscopic remnants of ash remained nestled in grooves between floorboards where they’d masquerade as ordinary dust for eternity...

It was unsettling how easily a life could be deleted, how the universe didn’t so much as hiccup when someone departed it.

“Is this all that human life is to you?” you whispered, not meaning to speak aloud. “Just... a stain to be wiped away?”

Sukuna didn’t answer.

He said nothing as he moved toward the window, sliding it open before stepping aside in a display of... courtesy?

Probably not.

“Let’s go,” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically subdued.

You limped toward the exit, scooping up your scorched boots along the way. Your fingers traced the outline of the dagger still securely tucked against the leather before you slid your bare feet in.

Rather than linger on the inevitable pain of climbing through a window in your current state, you reached for the ledge.

Your blistered palms made contact with the splintering wood and a hiss escaped as you recoiled, cradling your hands against your chest.

Sukuna sighed and spun behind you, his touch still hot from the fire as he prepared to hoist you upward. But—

“Don’t,” you snapped, pushing him away with more force than your injured body could muster.

Yes—you’d come to the uncomfortable realization that you couldn’t hate him—despite your rational mind’s insistence that you should. But that didn’t mean you would simply submit to his every whim, nor would you forget the violence he’d wrought. He needed to learn that in your world, actions carried consequences.

Even for kings.

“Stubborn brat,” he growled in your ears before stepping aside.

“By all means, cripple yourself further and drown in your obstinance.”

Ugh. You refused to even dignify his jab with a response. Instead, you gripped the windowsill again, this time using your forearms instead of your palms, leveraging your weight against the ledge.

Each inch gained was purchased with a popped blister, but it felt right to do it without his help.

If you truly intended to change him—you would need to earn his respect, and strength was the only attribute he deemed worthy of acknowledgment.

With a final push, you hauled yourself through the opening. Your boots hit the dewy grass with a soft thud, and Sukuna followed right behind.

The school grounds were eerily silent in the dead of night, with only the occasional rustle of leaves disturbing the stillness.

But that did nothing to quell the urgency to get out of there—as quickly as possible. You couldn’t risk being discovered, not with him by your side.

And Sukuna clearly shared that sentiment, shoving his palms between your shoulder blades to push you forward.

“Move.”

You stumbled, limping as fast as your injuries would allow, while Sukuna stalked silently behind you—quiet as a fox despite his size.

When you turned the corner, a cluster of voices suddenly drifted on the night air—footsteps and low murmurs approaching from behind the infirmary building, drawing closer and closer.

Your heart spiked with sudden panic, and before you could even contemplate an escape, Sukuna’s arm was already cinched around your waist. In a blur of motion, he wrenched you behind a weathered storage shed. Your back collided with the wall, and a gasp tore from your throat—but it was swiftly silenced by Sukuna's palm crushing your lips.

He pinned you there, his body a cage of hard muscle as he leaned close. “I would kill them,” he purred, “but I’ve no appetite for cleaning another mess tonight.”

Only when their footsteps faded entirely did Sukuna remove his hand from your mouth, though he remained uncomfortably close, studying your features.

“Your heartbeat’s erratic,” he observed with a certain delight. “Afraid they’d find us? Or afraid I’d add them to tonight’s body count regardless?”

You pushed against his chest, desperate for space—for air that wasn’t so saturated with his scent. “Both,” you admitted reluctantly.

And it seemed your honesty quite amused him, because he finally stepped back.

You resumed the journey with increased caution, your progress painfully slow as you navigated the perimeter of the school grounds. Every other step forced you to suppress a whimper, and Sukuna’s patience—what little he possessed anyway—visibly frayed with each choked-down cry.

“At this rate we’ll still be here when dawn breaks,” he snarled as you paused to catch your breath against a tree trunk.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” you hissed back, exhaustion leaching the strength from your voice.

You pushed off the tree trunk trying to cling to dignity only for your ankle to roll on an exposed root—

“Fuck,” you hissed, sinking down to clutch at your boot. And that was it.

He snapped. 

Sukuna hauled you over his shoulder like a sack of grain—trapping you without chance for protest. Any noise risked discovery after all—and he knew it—the fucking bastard...

At last, you reached the thick treeline marking the boundary of the school grounds. Beyond it, a stretch of wild forest.

You could already imagine the discomfort, branches slapping your face while he paid no mind. Still, the relief of escaping the vicinity of potential victims soon, outweighed any fear of scrapes and bruises.

Sukuna wasted no time venturing into the trees, and thankfully, most branches were shoved aside by his broad frame before they could strike you.

After a few minutes, when you were deep enough to avoid drawing attention, you gave it a shot—

“Will you put me down? I can walk fine, so—”

“There.” Sukuna interrupted. You lifted your head, squinting over his shoulder to follow his gaze.

A small maintenance cabin appeared through the trees—a weathered structure with slatted walls and a moss-caked roof, nestled in a clearing.

He turned his head, his growl vibrating through your ribs. “I don’t particularly enjoy carrying you either. It’s a nuisance.”

Okay… so?

Wasn’t he going to put you down? And this cabin... What the hell did that have to do with anything?

Sukuna prowled ahead until he reached the hut—then kicked the worn door in with a single strike. Wood splintered around the lock, and a shove sent it swinging inward, dangling from half a hinge.

You held your breath, eyes darting across the space until you confirmed it was empty—no one else here, no more blood on your hands tonight.

Dust motes swirled in the moonlight straining through grime-smeared windows. The air reeked of rust and mildew. A crooked table stood at the center, flanked by two chairs with missing slats, while sagging shelves struggled under the weight of corroded tools. In the back right corner, a flimsy partition concealed a chipped basin and a faucet crusted with lime.

What was left of the door wheezed shut, and Sukuna finally let you go—or more like dumped you on the floor.

He crossed his arms and stared you down, his impatient gaze sharp enough to flay skin.

“I’m healing those wounds,” he said, leaving no room for argument. “Your pathetic limping is a waste of my time, and I refuse to haul you around like a pack mule.”

“No,” you countered, backing away until your legs hit the edge of the table. “I don’t want anything from you.”

His pupils contracted to pinpricks, irises blazing with sudden fury. “It wasn’t a request.”

“I don’t care what it was,” you shot back, ignoring all the warning signals. “I’d rather be in pain than accept your help.”

In three fluid strides, he closed the distance. You bent backward over the table, wood creaking beneath your weight as he infiltrated your space until his shadow swallowed you whole. “And I’d rather not drag your half-dead carcass through the forest for another hour,” he snarled.

“So shelve your pathetic pride and stop wasting my time.”

You held his gaze, refusing to be cowed, yet a rational voice whispered in the back of your mind—urging you to reconsider.

Wouldn't self-preservation be in your best interest? If healed, you'd be stronger, faster—more prepared to execute whatever retribution you planned to inflict upon him for all the shit he pulled today.

Yes. You could frame it as simply using him.

If he was going to use you, you might as well use him right back.

“Fine,” you relented, still a bit bitter. “But let me take off the bandages first and—” Your gaze snagged on the partitioned corner where a small basin crouched beneath a rust-spotted faucet. “—wash off the... blood.”

The nurse’s blood. You needed it gone—now—before it seeped into your pores and stained you irreparably.

Sukuna scoffed, turning away with a dismissive wave. “Tch. Do what you must. But be quick about it.”

You nodded—even though his back was already to you—and retreated behind the partition.

Above the basin hung a cracked mirror held to the wall by bent nails that seemed ready to give way at any moment. You gripped the faucet handle but it resisted—rusted in place.

With a heavy tug, you managed to wrench it free and a thin stream of water sputtered out.

Your fingers trembled when you began peeling away at the bandages. Each layer with horrible pain as dried blood and plasma clung stubbornly to your skin. When the last of the gauze unraveled, it revealed the full extent of your injuries—thick bulging blisters; patches of blackened tissue where the steam had bitten deepest; all wounds still oozing despite Shoko's first aid...

Even in dim light—the sight made you sick...

With a shaky breath, you plunged your hands beneath the icy stream. Blood swirled into the basin, tinting the water pink as it washed away in rivulets.

You lifted your gaze to the mirror.

Your hair was matted and scorched, your skin a dead grayish hue except for the raw patches of burns. Your eyes… they were hollow yet feverishly bright against the red veins that spidered across your sclera.

You barely recognized yourself.

Out of the corner of your eye, a dusty bottle on a shelf caught your attention. Whiskey, upon closer inspection—cheap and likely abandoned by whoever last used this forsaken maintenance shed.

You shut off the faucet with your elbow and reached for the bottle.

Unscrewing the cap was near impossible; but you somehow succeeded. The sharp scent of alcohol hit you right away—a pleasant burn for once, cleansing the smell of blood from your nostrils.

Fantastic.

First, you swished a mouthful, desperate to rid yourself of the lingering taste of bile. You spat it into the basin and then, with only minor hesitation, you took a proper swallow, welcoming the liquid fire as it traced a path down your throat.

If Sukuna would heal the physical pain, maybe the whiskey could numb the mental one.

You took another sip, then another, before setting the bottle down. As much as you wanted to drown in it, you needed to stay alert.

With a final breath, you emerged from behind the partition. Sukuna was seated on one of the wooden chairs, legs sprawled before him.

“Finally,” he sneered, lunging forward to snare your wrist and yank you down onto the chair opposite him.

“Know this, brat—” He leaned in, lips peeling back to reveal his teeth. “—this is the last time I’ll waste my cursed energy stitching you back together.”

His hot breath burned against your open flesh. “Learn to do it yourself. Properly.”

Right. You’d used Reverse Cursed Technique before—but only when you were unconscious, moments from death’s doorstep. You had no fucking clue how to replicate it by will.

“Your arm,” he barked, already wrenching it forward. His fingers brushed lightly past your palms as his hand hovered above the worst of the burns. A faint glow emanated from his skin, washing your skin in a soothing light. It spread through your damaged tissue, bringing it back to life like water over parched earth.

“I’m not your nursemaid,” he continued, the light flaring brighter as he dragged his touch up your wrists and forearms. You watched all the blisters shrivel away beneath his technique.

“Then teach me to wield RCT properly during our next training.” Your gaze met his for just a second. “That is your part of the vow, isn’t it?”

His upper lip twitched; his eyes snapped away with a derisive snort. “You needn’t remind me, woman.”

You stifled a smirk at his flicker of irritation. Yeah, prick—a vow goes both ways.

When Sukuna reached your upper arms, he paused. His claws snagged on the tattered gown and he leaned back in his chair.

“Take it off,” he stated flatly, fingers pointing at the fabric. “The burns extend beneath. I can’t work like this.”

You opened your mouth to protest—but what was the point? He’d already seen you in far less than this. Modesty felt like a negligible concept in the aftermath of today’s horrors.

Sukuna’s expression flashed with mild surprise when you reached for the collar of the gown. You tore it down the middle without hesitation—and you shrugged the ruined garment from your shoulders, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

His jaw tensed; pupils dilating a fraction before indifference snapped back into place. His hands resumed their clinical work—skimming your shoulders, tracing the hollow of your collarbone, lingering a beat too long on the pulse fluttering at your neck. Then his hands descended—mapping the wounds at your waist and continuing over the curves of your legs.

And when he’d finished with your front—

“Turn around,” he ordered curtly.

With a bit more reluctance this time—you obeyed—shifting in your chair to straddle its back. The splintered wood pressed uncomfortably against your inner thighs as Sukuna shoved his chair closer.

Minutes passed in tense silence as he worked, his fingers trailing over each vertebrae, leaving behind faint traces of warmth. You could feel his gaze like a physical touch, mapping every inch of your back, lingering on spots that didn’t need healing too.

Finally, Sukuna leaned back and declared, “That’s all of them.”

But despite his words, a persistent burn flared at your right hip. You twisted, straining to see the spot, but the angle made it near impossible.

“There’s still one,” you said, fingers probing the area until they came away slick with fluid.

“See? Lower back. Right side.”

His chair creaked as he leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Where? I see nothing.”

Was he serious? His hand was hovering literal inches away from the throbbing burn.

“Right here,” you insisted, twisting further to show him. But he narrowed his brows—shook his head again.

“Be specific, woman,” he snapped, digging his heels into the ground.

Exasperation finally overrode caution—and perhaps reason too—as you reached back without thinking. Your fingers closed around his wrist in a firm grip before guiding his hand directly to the burn. You pressed his palm against the tender flesh over your hip with enough force to make him feel it.

“There,” you hissed, turning back to your former position—leaning over the chair’s spine before your own spine threatened to crack.

For a moment, an odd silence stretched between you—charged yet biding—enduring the seconds.

Then, you realized your mistake.

It was in the way his breathing slowed, the way the room seemed to shrink, the space between you closing until it felt like there was nowhere left to go. Then, unmistakable, as his fingers sank deeper into your flesh.

His other hand rose of its own accord. It came to a stop on your opposite hip, splaying wide against your skin. His thumbs dug into the dips of your waist and his breathing hitched.

He wasn’t healing the wound. He was—

“That was a reckless move, brat,” he murmured, voice dropping low. “Stripping bare before me is one thing. Touching me? is another.”

Before you could explain yourself, he yanked you backward onto his lap, and a startled gasp escaped your lips as your back collided with his chest. The solid wall of muscle behind you—his arms encircling your waist like iron bands. You were locked in place—no room for escape.

“I only took off my clothes so you could heal me! Don’t be ridiculous—let me go, Sukuna! This is—”

“No,” he breathed, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “I don’t believe I will.”

A shiver crawled down your spine, and at its end, you became acutely aware of his body beneath yours—his groin pressing against your backside, growing hotter with each passing moment.

His lips descended on the junction of your neck and shoulder; teeth grazing the sensitive skin there before sinking in to leave a mark. The sharp edge of his bite sent sparks through your nerves but was immediately soothed by a surprisingly gentle kiss to the same spot.

It left you breathless—your body betraying you once again as dangerous warmth pooled deep in your abdomen.

No... you couldn’t.

You turned your face toward him with every intention of rejecting him—of maintaining whatever moral high ground remained—but his lips clashed against yours with a ferocity that bordered on violence.

His teeth scraped your lower lip coaxing your traitorous mouth to respond before his tongue invaded—claiming every inch—every crevice—every gasp—as his and his alone.

He was so rough—so invasive—so unapologetically forceful that you thought your neck might snap back if you didn’t lean into it. Every lap of his tongue was a demand to either match his force or break beneath it.

One arm slid from your waist to your throat—the other still pinning you tight against him. Then his fingers curled around your jaw; his thumb prying your lips wider.

'More,'  his grip seemed to say.

'All of you.'

And as he deepened the kiss—as he ground his cock into the back of your thighs—you felt it: His cursed energy surging into you like a drug flooding your system—replenishing reserves you hadn’t realized were depleted.

The fog in your brain cleared—and clarity cut through the haze of lust...

You could use this—use him.

With his guard lowered by desire and his focus narrowed to hunting your reactions... with his skin pressed so tightly against yours—you realized this was your opportunity.

What better moment to make a move? He had even patched you up to full health.

Yeah. To win this game against Sukuna, you had to play it like him.

Victory demanded cruelty, tact, and deceit. And most importantly, the willingness to savor the game—to enjoy it.

Isn’t this what he’d taught you?

So you melted into his embrace, lips parting in feigned surrender. His thumb relinquished your jaw—no need for force when you volunteered. You leeched off his energy as your hand slid into his hair, tugging just hard enough to draw a growl.

You wound another strand of his locks around your finger, your gaze drifting past his shoulder to the boot by the wall. The tip of the dagger’s hilt gleamed in the dim light—calling to you.

Who were you to forsake a king’s lessons?

---------------------------------------------------------

Thank you to everyone who's still here reading! It means so much to me! Truly!! 💖 And sorry for testing y’alls patience like this—forgive meeee. Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter and have an amazing day ✨️

Taglist:

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel , @nessca153 , @technicallysublimedemon

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch.34

Sukuna x Reader

Notes:

This story is set in the Jujutsu Kaisen universe/slight AU where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel, separate from Itadori Yuji's body, and is accomplices with the Jogo, Geto/Kenjaku, Mahito gang.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 34– Inferno

You fiddled with the whistle in the pocket of your uniform, the cold metal gliding over the anxious sweat of your palms. Your feet hit the floor with restless taps, matching the frenzied pace of your mind as one worried thought spiraled into another. Gojo’s voice barely filtered through, which was quite a feat considering the animated way he delivered his lecture. The usual symphony of Yuji’s warm laughter and Nobara’s sharp quips had faded to white noise.

Only Megumi seemed to share in your mental absence, his dark eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the window while his foot maintained a slower but equally restless rhythm. Yet you doubted his worries were as nauseating as yours, as bitter with the poison of forthcoming betrayal.

You glanced at the clock. Less than two hours until…

Your insides coiled with the same uneasy dread that had sent you running yesterday.

After that kiss, you’d raced home, breathless and frantic, your shirt sticking to your back, hands clutching at your hair in panic. Why, oh why, did you have to go and do that?

Flustered beyond coherent thought, you’d resorted to humanity’s most primitive—and perhaps most childish—defense against an inevitably mortifying rendezvous: pretending to be asleep.

On the couch, you leveled your breath to slow and even waves, closed your eyes, and held your face perfectly still in artificial peace. You maintained this vigil through the eternal hour it took for Sukuna to return.

When the lock finally clicked, you tracked his footsteps through the apartment with quiet focus, ears perked to catch each shuffle of his sandals across the oak floor.

Halfway to his room, he stopped dead in his tracks.

A heavy sigh drifted down to where you laid, and for an agonizing minute, you wondered if he could see the thumping of your heart.

You wondered what look he was regarding you with. Was it disgust, detachment, anger… endearment?

The soft squeak of his bedroom door finally broke the tension, and with him back in the apartment, the familiar pressure of his cursed energy settled into the air. Oddly enough, you found it calmed your frayed nerves rather than set them on edge.

Like a cozy weighted blanket, it soothed you to sleep…

This morning, you’d woken to an empty apartment—no trace of his energy. Sukuna had already left, taking that strange comfort with him and leaving you with a shitload of worries and a whistle in your pocket.

You tilted back on the rear legs of your chair, nearly losing balance but not even flinching because, well, if you fell, it would have been well-deserved.

Sure, you’d managed to negotiate some measure of safety for your friends, but whatever Patchface and Volcano-head were coming to steal would become just another piece in their grand design against Jujutsu society. What you were about to do was still inherently evil, would still inevitably lead to chaos, violence, even death down the line.

You tried to comfort yourself with the thought that even without your complicated feelings for Sukuna, the binding vow would have forced your hand anyway.

So why did that do nothing to ease the writhing guilt in your gut?

A sudden weight on your shoulders snapped you out of your spiral of self-loathing. Nobara’s perfume, vanilla and jasmine—wafted up your nose as she leaned close.

“Class ended five minutes ago, slowpoke. What are you spacing out for? Don’t tell me there’s a guy on your mind—” She punctuated her question with a playful flick to your ear before gently tucking a strand of hair behind it.

She wasn’t entirely wrong.

You shifted to put your notebook away, but as you ducked to reach for your backpack, something snagged your collar. “Hold up—just fixing a fold…” You glanced over your shoulder to find Nobara’s perfectly manicured nails pulling at the fabric until…

Her eyes widened to saucers as she caught a glimpse of your nape.

Well, shit. What was it with people peeping down your neck these days?

“Nooo way! It really is a boy…” She squealed so loudly that all eyes in the room snapped to you. You frantically gestured for her to lower her voice, and thank god, she quickly piped down.

Fine, she’d caught you—but that didn’t mean your cover was blown, right? Any random guy could have left those marks. She had no reason to suspect you were sharing a bed with the King of Curses.

“Relax, your little secret’s safe with me,” she whispered, yanking you up from your chair with surprising strength. “But whoever he is, he’s clearly a beast. And you didn’t even tell me? I’m wounded.” A dramatic pout found her face and she clutched at her chest in offense.

For the briefest moment, her eyes softened as they drifted off. “So that’s why you’ve been acting so weird lately. Huh, figures…”

She said it so quietly, you felt the words were meant only for her—yet you were glad you caught them. There was something awfully relieving about knowing she could stop worrying about you, even if her assumption was worlds away from the truth…

You turned your head when Yuji jogged over, a lunchbox tucked under his arm, with Megumi trailing behind, hands buried deep in his pockets.

The four of you found a sun-warmed bench outside, settling in for lunch as a gentle breeze carried the scent of sweet blossoms across the courtyard. Your mind found a peculiar sort of peace as you bit into your sandwich—not true peace, but something close to it.

Maybe it was the way the sunlight dappled through the courtyard’s leaves, casting gentle shadows that danced across your skin. Or maybe it was the way Nobara’s laughter rang pure and clear again, unburdened by the weight of unspoken concerns, certain that there were no more secrets between you.

If only she knew.

Your gaze wandered to the training grounds, where hard-packed sand stretched out around the rust-colored gravel track. Beyond it, rows of trees formed a forest, casting shadows over patches of moss that mosaiced the ground. High grass and dense bushes offered perfect coverage—the kind one might need to summon a curse away from prying eyes.

Three o’clock. That’s when you’d have to do it.

The only challenge left was finding an excuse to create a moment alone in that forest during the training session.

You’d just have to improvise.

You took another bite of your sandwich and with your next blink, a wall of white suddenly blocked your vision. Confused, you blinked again, but still there—

A wall of white… fur?

Your eyes drifted upward, and—

“Hrkk—” The bite of sandwich caught in your throat as you found yourself staring into the dark eyes of a—

“No way… you’re Panda? The second year’s Panda?” The words tumbled out before you could catch them, manners forgotten in the face of absolute absurdity. But how could anyone blame you?

You’d heard whispers about ‘Panda’ here and there. He’d been mentioned during your training with the second years when he’d been absent, away on a mission. But you’d just assumed it was some kind of nickname, maybe for someone particularly big and cuddly, not an actual walking—

“Huh? What are you gawking at? Of course I’m Panda.” He scratched behind his black-furred ear with his massive paw, a playful smile puffing up his cheeks. “Seen any other panda-shaped students around the school grounds? You’re not the brightest, are you, new kid…”

A walking—and talking panda.

Okay, calm down—you’d seen stranger things these past couple of months.

In the background, your evident shock sent Nobara into a fit of hysterics. She doubled over, clutching her stomach as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “Oh god—your face—” she wheezed between laughs, until a sharp flick to the side of her head cut her laughter short.

“Ow!” Nobara yelped, rubbing the reddening spot as Maki materialized behind her, adjusting her glasses with a smirk. “Are you sure you should be laughing? As I recall, you screamed like a spooked chipmunk and hid behind Gojo-sensei when you first met Panda.”

A furious blush spread across Nobara’s cheeks. “I did not! That’s—”

Meanwhile, Inumaki had stepped out from behind Panda’s shadow, his collar pulled up over his nose and his purple eyes darting back and forth, silently witnessing the scene from a safe distance.

When your eyes met, he offered a gentle, “Kelp,” lifting his hand in a tentative wave.

You returned his greeting with a small wave of your own and a soft smile, grateful for his simple ‘hello’ in this circus of a meeting.

After a few more minutes of Nobara’s defensive yelps, Maki’s cutting retorts—she was a master at verbal sparring if you’d ever seen one—and Panda’s occasional rumbling laughter that shook the entire bench, Yuji finally seemed to process something from his perch atop the backrest.

His legs dangled loosely as he tilted his head. “Why are you guys here anyway? To watch our training session?”

Maki pushed her glasses up onto her head, the lenses catching the sunlight as she let out a sigh of irritated resignation—like she’d already known this would happen but was certainly still annoyed by it.

“Huh? Of course he didn’t tell you. That deadbeat idiot.” She clicked her tongue. “We’re not here to watch; we’re leading the training session.”

Your ears perked up, stomach dropping at this unexpected change of plans.

As if you weren’t stressed enough already.

“Wait, um,” you interjected, words coming out a bit too cold as you tried to keep the nerves from creeping into your voice. “Why isn’t Gojo leading? I thought—”

Maki cut in, a sharp edge to her smile that made you shrink back slightly. “What’s wrong? Think we second-years can’t handle teaching a few basics? Trust me, I’ve got plenty to show a rookie like you.”

That’s not exactly what you meant but—still desperate for an answer, you glanced at Panda, who caught your silent plea for clarification.

“Most of the teachers were called away on an emergency mission,” he explained, stretching his paws high in the air. “That’s why we’re filling in.”

The teachers got… called away?

Oh no. No, no, no.

The blood drained from your face as the implications of this new reality hit you.

With the first-grade curse you had to release, and if Mahito and Jogo decided to act up, to overstep their bounds… God, you weren’t even sure if Sukuna had kept his word. Maybe they’d orchestrated this whole ‘emergency mission’ themselves—leaving all of you defenseless, at their mercy.

You felt sick.

Yuji gently tugged at your sleeve, his bright eyes dimming with concern. “Hey, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost… you sure that sandwich isn’t expired?” He eyed the half-eaten lunch in your trembling hands, but you couldn’t reply. Your eyes fixed on the faint outline of the whistle pressing against your thigh, knowing if you met anyone’s gaze right now, the truth would come spilling out like water from a broken dam.

It rose so high up your throat. You could only stare and swallow, swallow, swallow again until it stayed down—

You straightened your features and looked up, only to find everyone staring at you.

“I’m fine, sorry, maybe it is expired… I—”

You fell silent again.

Luckily Megumi noticed your unease and came to your rescue. He pulled his phone from his pocket. “It’s almost two,” he said, all eyes snapping to him instead.

“We should head to the training grounds.”

You thanked him with a tiny bow of your head for his quiet ability to read the room. He might not show it with his stoic exterior, but he was easily one of the most perceptive when it came to others’ feelings.

The tension dissolved as quickly as it had built, everyone falling into animated discussions about sparring pairs while you hung back, trying to steady your breaths.

Everyone except Yuji, who lingered beside you with that gentle smile of his, eyes curved into crescents as he gestured at your sandwich.

“Want me to throw that for you?”

You forced a kind smile in return and nodded.

It wasn’t like you could manage a bite with your nerves clamping your throat shut anyway.

At the training grounds, everyone quickly settled into pairs. And it didn’t take long to realize who they’d decided to pair with you.

Maki tossed the wooden bo staff your way, sending you stumbling into an awkward sidestep as you barely caught it. The confident smirk she wore left no doubt: she’d taken your earlier remark as a slight against her teaching skills, and she was absolutely going to make you pay for it—bad sandwich or not.

You tightened your grip on the weapon until your knuckles went white against the worn wood, but it hardly mattered—because Maki had already blurred into motion. One moment she was standing there, the next—there was a sharp thwack of wood on wood and your weapon went sailing across the training grounds.

“Too slow,” she commented from behind you as you jogged to retrieve your staff.

God she reminded you of that mercenary who nearly took you out—Toji, was it? The same lethal speed, the same complete void of cursed energy that rendered your technique useless. The same taunting smirk playing at her lips as she twirled her staff in lazy circles—a mirror image of him—both so damn confident in their ability to make you eat dirt.

And well, she did.

Again and again, she disarmed you—either the stick or your ass hitting the ground. 

And each time you retrieved your weapon, your eyes were drawn to the big clock mounted on the wall across the field, its hands creeping closer to three despite your prayers to please let time slow. 

You hadn’t even figured out a proper excuse to sneak off to those woods yet. 

“Getting tired already?” Maki’s voice cut through your distraction and you sighed, turning to face her, bracing for another graceless defeat. But as you prepared for your stick to go sailing across the field for the umpteenth time… it hit you that—that might be exactly what you needed. 

You loosened your grip just enough to ensure it would fling—far. Your eyes fixed on a spot near the treeline as you turned your back to it and took a few calculated steps backward, disguising your intent as defensive positioning. 

You pretended to raise your guard and—this time, when Maki charged, you angled the stick ever so slightly, letting her momentum do the work. 

The impact made the wooden weapon spin through the air in a perfect arc, disappearing far into the woods before landing in the undergrowth with a soft rustle. 

“I’ll get it,” you called out, already jogging toward the forest’s edge, forcing a casual stride even though it felt more like a run for the gallows. 

There was no backing out. Bound by the vow, your only option was to put your trust in Sukuna’s word: 

Hell, even your little group of friends could exorcise it if they used their brains… 

“You better be right, asshole,” you whispered under your breath as you pushed past the first row of bushes, each step carrying you deeper into the shadows.

The sounds of training grew muffled, replaced by the nervous chirping—no, screeching—of birds. It was as if they knew, somehow they knew, their calls a desperate plea against the wrongness about to unfold. 

You stopped when the last remaining sounds of sparring finally faded away, leaving you alone with the knowledge of what you were about to do—what you had to do. 

You knew you had to, but the metal felt like heavy lead as you guided the opening of the whistle toward your mouth. Your hand trembled—whether from fear or guilt, you couldn’t tell anymore. 

You clenched your eyes shut, no use in delaying this, and drew in one last breath of innocence before your mouth found the whistle and you blew— 

Birds shot from the trees in a startled exodus, their wings flapping frantically, fanning the dead leaves from the branches. 

Then… silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that comes before a storm. 

Before everything goes to hell. 

You tucked the whistle back into your pocket with trembling fingers, your body moving on its own as the sudden realization struck: you were alone in the woods, and that curse could appear at any moment. 

Quickly you pushed your way back through the leaves and bushes, passing by your bo staff as your imagination conjured phantoms out of the shadows in the corner of your eye, until finally—mercifully—you burst through the last line of bushes, greeted by the warm glow of sunlight. 

“Took you long enough,” Maki hissed, still waiting at the forest’s edge. You dropped your gaze, tracing idle circles in the earth with the staff—you couldn’t look her in the eyes, but since silence would be even more damning— 

“Sorry,” you mumbled—sorry for what was about to happen, sorry for the chaos you were about to unleash. 

“Guess your throw really sent it flying… You’re strong, Maki.” 

You weren’t even sure why you felt the need to mention that, maybe to patch over your earlier comment which she’d mistook, maybe to reassure yourself that this group—your friends—could handle whatever was coming. Your eyes drifted up for a small hesitant peek across the training grounds, taking in the symphonic violence. 

Yuji and Nobara moving like wind and thunder, Megumi’s shikigami locked in a waltz that challenged Panda’s brute force. 

Inumaki stood at the sideline, a quiet sentinel… 

Would it be okay?

The thought had barely formed when the ground began to tremble—not a gentle quiver, but a deep, primordial shudder that tilted the earth. Your careful circle dissolved as loose soil redistributed. 

The sounds of combat came to an abrupt halt as everyone paused, glancing around to make sense of the situation and steadying themselves against the shuddering earth. 

Nobara staggered, gripping Yuji’s arm for balance. “Huh?! An earthquake?” Her yelp of surprise carried over the field and to your side, where Maki stood unnervingly still. 

Her gaze was sharp as a blade. And even though she couldn’t sense cursed energy, her instincts honed by years of combat knew exactly what this was… “No,” she muttered, knuckles whitening around her staff. “It’s not.” Her worried whisper morphed into a command as she swung her staff forward. “Everyone, brace yourselves. It’s a curse.” 

Your throat tightened. She’s right. You knew because—you did this.

Right then, the ground erupted. Jagged fissures spiderwebbed outward, spewing scalding steam that blurred the air into a hellish haze. The heat grazed your arm—searing hot and blistering. 

You choked back a cry of pain. 

What the hell kind of curse was this? It couldn’t be… Jogo, could it? 

“Everyone, watch out!” Megumi’s shout cut through the chaos. His Divine Dogs burst from the shadows, leaping forward to shield Panda and Inumaki beside him. But as they neared the fissures, they recoiled with pained yelps, their fur smoldering where the steam touched. 

“Fuck, it’s hot!” Nobara snapped, frantically fanning her scorched skin. Yuji darted left and right, his sleeves already singed, fists twitching with the instinct to fight whatever was hurting his friends. 

He was desperate to strike something—anything. And as if answering his unspoken call for vengeance, a guttural roar boomed from the depths. 

Then, the scraping of claws tearing free from the ground as the curse emerged from underneath the earth, its body a pulsing mass of oozing abscesses. Each crater-like pore exhaling hot vapor, distorting the air with waves of suffocating heat. 

You should have felt repulsed, yet the relief that it wasn’t any of Sukuna’s accomplices… That small comfort was enough to make your breath come easier. 

Just your breath though—your body was frozen in place. 

Maki, in contrast, wasted no time. She surged forward, staff raised and ready to strike. Yet she stopped just short, staggering back—glasses fogged, skin flushed red. 

“The heat… it’s too much. It’ll burn you to a crisp if you get too close,” she hissed. 

Nobara barked a laugh, “Like hell that’s gonna stop me!” She flicked a nail skyward, hitting it with her hammer in a perfect trajectory—until the projectile hit that wall of scorching air. The steel caught the light as it softened, twisted, then dripped into a molten puddle. 

Megumi gritted his teeth as his hands flew into a sign, shadows forming around him. 

“Nue!” 

The owl-like shikigami erupted from the darkness, its wings crackling with cursed electricity as it climbed higher and higher, gathering power for a devastating dive— 

But right as it pounced, jets of steam shot up like geysers, ruthlessly targeting the bird. Nue’s screech of pain hurt your ears as its feathers crumbled to ash. Megumi’s face contorted, sweat streaming down his temples as he dismissed his wounded familiar before it could suffer further damage. 

You watched Yuji dart forward next, that familiar determined glint in his eyes—but even his raw strength meant nothing against the oppressive heat. He backpedaled with a hiss, forearms red and angry. 

“Enough!” Maki’s voice was stern demanding everyone’s attention. “We need to regroup. Panda, find help—anyone. The rest of you, to me. Now!” 

Panda nodded firmly. “On it! Try not to get barbecued while I’m gone!” He called over his shoulder, already breaking into a sprint that seemed way too fast for something his size. 

As Panda disappeared into the distance, your group huddled together, narrowly avoiding the spider web of cracks that was spread across the earth. 

The curse, despite its high grade, had a dense, lumpy form and trudged forward with agonizing slowness, dragging itself like a snail across the surface—gross, but at least it gave you some time to strategize. 

Nobara stumbled into the circle first, brandishing her remaining nails. “These things are useless—they’re turning to soup before they even get close! That blob is damn strong…” 

Yuji skidded in beside her, hand nursing his burned arm. “No luck on my side either… and for a curse to be poppin’ up outta nowhere like that, it feels off…” 

Ouch. 

Megumi joined last, his Divine Dogs pressing close to his legs with low, worried whines. “We’ll figure out why it’s here later. First, we need a plan. The steam acts as both an offense and defense—so… so direct hits are impossible.” His gaze shifted to where Inumaki stood silently observing, until something sparked in those dark eyes. “Unless…” 

Maki followed his line of sight and caught his drift. 

“Inumaki’s our only ranged option. A freeze command could temporarily halt the steam output. If that gives us even a small window…” She jabbed her staff—its tip now charred black—toward the curse. 

“But it’s grade one. He’ll burn out fast,” Yuji interjected, his eyes drooping with concern.

Inumaki raised two fingers, then a third, before pointing deliberately at his throat. 

“Two, maybe three commands before his throat gives out,” Megumi translated. “Not enough.” 

The curse’s laughter bubbled up from behind. Through the heat haze, its crater-like pores flexed like dozens of mocking mouths—taunting you.

You had caused this, hadn’t you? Which meant you had to fix this—no matter what.

“I… I can extend his limit.” 

Every head snapped toward you. 

“My technique.” You flexed your fingers, still tender from earlier. “I don’t just siphon energy on contact. I can transfer it too. If I can drain some of the curse’s power in that window, then channel it back into Inumaki…” 

Megumi raised an eyebrow, rubbing his chin as he contemplated the plan. “You’ve done this before? Transferred between people?” 

“Once.” 

A lie.

In truth, you’d only ever practiced with your dagger—a lifeless object imbued with cursed energy. But the principle couldn’t be that much different, could it? 

Inumaki studied you with those perceptive violet eyes before tapping his throat and giving a single, decisive nod. 

“Salmon.” 

Maki’s staff struck the ground with finality. “We’ll need perfect timing. Inumaki’s freeze command will give us maybe ten seconds. We hit hard, then get out fast.” She turned to Yuji, who had perked up with renewed focus. “You’re our bait. Draw it into position so we can strike from its blind spots.” 

A grin split his face as he threw up a thumbs-up. “Leave it to me!” 

“First wave,” Megumi laid out, voice steady despite the tension. “Inumaki freezes it. Maki, I’ll pull you a proper weapon from my shadows—we take the left flank. Nobara, right side. Your nails should hold once the steam stops. Yuji—” 

“Keep it real mad at me. Got it!” 

“And you.” Maki’s eyes locked onto yours like lasers. “You have ten seconds to drain everything you can from behind. Inumaki will need every drop.” 

You nodded, jaw set with determination. If this was how you could minimize the damage you’d unleashed… then you’d give it everything you had. 

Megumi reached into the air where he pulled out a gleaming special grade cursed katana from his shadow inventory, passing it to Maki before pulling out a black-steeled Shadow sword for himself. His determined eyes reflected in its dark surface and when he looked back up, you all locked eyes for a heartbeat—no speech needed. 

That was the starting sign. 

Yuji darted forward, zigzagging between the steam vents like a pinball, smoke curling off his uniform as it caught a drift of heat here and there. “Hey ugly, over here!” he taunted.

“Bet you can’t catch me!” The curse’s gurgling roar confirmed its irritation, its bulbous form dragging itself to face him.

The rest of you used that precious moment to creep in as close as possible—to where the heat became almost unbearable. 

Then one bark from Divine Dog Black signaled Inumaki, and— 

“Freeze.” 

Inumaki’s command caused a second of absolute silence—the curse’s bubbling pores frozen mid-exhale, the last remnants of steam rising up. 

When that second passed, you all exploded into action. 

Bridging the remaining distance with a sprint, you outstretched your hands all the way to the tips of your fingers as you sought contact with its putrid skin. 

Your fingers sunk into the flesh—the smell so foul it made you gag—but you quickly pushed those senses aside, putting every ounce of your focus into absorbing as much cursed energy as possible. 

To hell with cursed energy overload—you’d handled worse. 

The taste of a first-grade’s power was much like Sukuna’s—strong, hot and viscous. But you gritted your teeth and drew it in anyway, ignoring the way your head began to swim. 

From the left flank Maki struck first. Her sharp katana carved a clean gash in the curse’s side, followed by Megumi, his Shadow sword cutting deep as both dogs mauled at its legs. Nobara’s nails were functional at last, exploding with chunks of cursed flesh from the right flank. The impact of each hit reverberating through the monster like heavy shockwaves. 

Finally, Yuji threw a punch at its stomach—a Black Flash in fact. 

It lit up the battlefield, and you swore you could hear that familiar ring of reality warping in your ears. 

The first twitches of its grotesque body were a warning signal to retreat, and you were all well outside the range of its steam when the curse broke free with an ear-splitting shriek. 

You sprinted the final feet to Inumaki, who was trying to suppress the muffled coughs into his collar, and without hesitation pressed your palms to his chest. Focusing like you had with the dagger, you carefully channeled the stolen energy into him and— 

Thank god, it worked. 

His eyes widened at the surge of foreign power, and the coughing quickly ceased. 

“Again!” Megumi called out when he noticed the transfer was successful. 

Once more Yuji vaulted at the curse to catch its attention, while the rest of you snuck close. 

“Freeze.” 

The second wave proved even more devastating than the first. Yuji’s fist landing another Black Flash, Nobara’s nails penetrating even deeper, Maki and Megumi’s assault leaving ragged trenches in the curse’s skin. You drained more and more energy, your skin feeling like it might split from containing it all. 

But you endured. 

Second transfer. Third wave. The curse’s defenses were weakening, but so was your group. Sweat streaked every forehead, breaths came in ragged gasps, and the sluggish retreat left nearly everyone with superficial burns smoking off their limbs. 

This time, you barely managed to transfer the energy to Inumaki. Your legs trembled violently, threatening to give out as you pressed your palms to his chest—half to transfer the energy, half to steady yourself. 

“F-freeze,” he rasped. 

The fourth attack was desperate. The strikes less precise—no more Black Flashes—just average punches—and the curse breaking free from the command faster as if it were adapting despite your desperate tries to drain it. 

It was obviously weakened from the streak of attacks but so was your group. 

So were you. 

You stumbled back in a daze, unsure if the air was blurry from exhaustion or heat. Through the haze, you spotted Inumaki’s uniform and drifted that way on autopilot. As you neared you noticed the thick crimson droplets that spattered from his mouth between violent coughs. 

You were barely out of range of the curse and the heat burnt your uniform into your back, but right as you stumbled Yuji caught you mid-collapse, slinging you over his shoulder as he rushed to Inumaki’s side to regroup. 

The boy was in a very bad state. Worse than you were. Coughing up—no at this point vomiting blood as he collapsed to the ground. 

“Inumaki!” Multiple voices cried out in alarm as the others rushed over. Yuji set you down beside him, your vision swimming. 

“Shit. What do we do now?!” Nobara hissed. 

You could taste the desperation in the air. 

But then—footsteps. Heavy, running footsteps. Not the curse; it didn’t have feet. And the rest were here, so who? Your thoughts struggled to piece it together until— 

“There they are!” Panda’s voice boomed across the field. Behind him, Shoko’s white coat fluttered as she sprinted forward, her face set in a calm yet urgent expression. 

“He can’t fight anymore,” she assessed in seconds, already kneeling beside Inumaki. 

Panda scratched his head awkwardly, clearly hating to pile bad news onto an already dire situation. “All the combat teachers were called away, so it’s up to us to finish this.” 

“What’s the situation?” Shoko inquired. 

Maki straightened, despite her obvious fatigue. “The curse is weakened, but without Inumaki’s command—” 

“We’ll burn,” Megumi finished.

You looked at your friends—at Yuji's red arms, Nobara's blistered skin, Maki's scorched uniform, Megumi's exhausted shikigami with their fur burnt short.

Yet, despite it all, they stood unwavering at the side of their friend— 

You yearned to be like them... to be someone good, not a filthy traitor—a monster's slave. 

“We can take it,” you said quietly, then louder as you pushed yourself up: “We can push through. It’s weak enough now that... that the burns won’t be permanent. Right, Shoko-sensei?” 

“You’re out of your damn mind—you can barely stand,” Nobara snapped, glaring at you like you’d lost your marbles. 

To your surprise though, Shoko seemed to actually consider your suggestion. She nodded, not looking up from her patient. 

“With immediate RCT, yes.” 

An all-telling pause. 

“But it’ll hurt like hell.” 

Yuji, always desperate to keep the mood light in situations like these, gave Megumi a playful punch to his shoulder. “Hey, maybe we might be able to get a nice tan on that pale face of yours.” 

“You’re all insane,” Panda rumbled, but he was already settling into a fighting stance, obviously planning to join your descent into the fiery pits of hell. 

“I don’t see any other options. Let’s do it,” Maki added, gripping firm hold of her katana. 

“Fine. But if my hair gets ruined, you’re paying for extensions, missy!” Nobara snapped as she helped pull you up. 

You let out a small giggle at her words, the rush of adrenaline at what was to come kicking in and helping to steady your shaky legs. 

“Deal.” 

Everyone steeled themselves for the final charge, each silently battling their own nerves—fully aware that what awaited them would be far from pleasant. 

Yuji cracked his scorched knuckles, Nobara’s thumb traced the blistered skin of her palm, her other hand compulsively smoothing singed strands of hair behind her ear. Megumi’s brows knotted together. 

Panda and Maki took one last moment, kneeling by Inumaki. 

You clenched your teeth, biting down hard until the copper taste of blood flooded your tongue. Then, with a synchronized push, Maki and Panda rose, stepping into place beside you. 

“Let’s finish this.” Maki’s words were the signal—the final charge was set in motion. 

A charge of pure determination. A mad rush through walls of steam. 

It was like running straight through flames.

With every step, your skin blistered and split open further, nerves howling in agony as the searing heat tore through them. Every breath seared your lungs until breathing was simply not an option anymore. 

Through tears of pain, you saw everyone pushing forward—Maki’s glasses cracking from the heat, Nobara guarding her precious face with hands that barely had skin left, Yuji’s uniform smoking, Megumi’s face contorted in agony as his shikigami howled and followed loyally, the white patches of Panda’s fur turning as black as the rest of him. 

What followed wasn’t a battle—it was a slaughter. 

A total outburst of rage, adrenaline, and pain that translated into a devastating combined attack from all sides. 

Maki’s blade carving a molten arc through the steam like a meteor trail. Panda’s claws burning red as he wrestled the monstrosity into Maki’s next strike.

Nobara’s hammer swinging in a frenzy as her remaining nails hummed through the air—one hitting the curse’s weeping eye. Her grin turned feral as she detonated it with a raw-throated “Die!” 

Yuji’s punches split open the curse’s belly. The stench of ozone clinging to his smoldering fists as he punched again, and again, knuckles grinding to bone. 

Megumi’s shadow blade snarled, silent and feral like his Divine Dogs, ripping through flesh as effortlessly as their teeth.  

And you—you dug your disintegrating fingers into its disintegrating core and drank every drop you could get to. All until there was nothing more left to drain. 

The steam died first—a final hiss as the battlefield fell still. Then the curse itself folded inward, dissolving into a pool of black tar. 

Then nothing but silence and the soft thump of bodies hitting the ground as everyone collapsed. 

Through the haze of pain, you heard Shoko sigh... “Where’s that guy when you need him? I swear to god, Gojo, you should take better care of your students.” 

Her footsteps were already approaching, hands glowing with cursed energy as she knelt down somewhere beside you. 

You lay there, staring at the sky, every inch of your body screaming—but somehow, you were smiling. Because this pain? This was the pain of protecting your friends, not betraying them. 

---------------------------------------------------------

You must have passed out at some point because when consciousness returned, you found yourself on a bed in one of the school’s infirmary rooms. Through the window to your left, Jujutsu High’s grounds stretched into darkness—dawn long gone, leaving the courtyard bathed in pale moonlight. 

The burns on your arms were wrapped in clean bandages. And though Shoko’s reverse cursed technique had dulled the worst of the pain, a sharp ache still throbbed beneath the dressings. Your entire body felt leaden, drained of energy to the point where even the thought of swinging your legs over the bed seemed impossible. So you let yourself sink deeper into the mattress, preserving what little strength remained for healing. 

Your mind drifted to Sukuna. He was probably pissed that you hadn’t returned, but frankly, you didn’t care. You were pissed too—pissed that he’d forced you into this position, pissed about that convenient 'emergency mission' that had drawn away all the teachers. 

What absolute bullshit. 

He and his merry band of psychopaths had to be behind it. 

You attempted to roll onto your side, seeking a more comfortable position, but the burns made every movement a harsh negotiation with pain. 

And when you finally managed to settle, the door suddenly swung open. 

Shoko entered in a cloud of antiseptic and unfiltered Camels, her lab coat sleeves crusted brown-red. Dark circles hung heavy under her eyes as she dropped into the chair beside your bed, gently lifting your arm to examine the bandages. 

“They’ll heal,” she muttered around an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips. “Gonna take some more time though. Had to save energy for—” She caught herself with a sharp click of her tongue. 

“For what?” The question scraped painfully past your smoke-damaged throat, and the red crust on her sleeves suddenly seemed all the more vivid. “Is everyone okay? Gojo-sensei?” Worry clawed at your chest. 

“The guards at the cursed warehouse.” Her voice was flat, clinical. “The curse that attacked you was a diversion. Someone broke in and killed them all. Multiple special grade cursed objects were taken.” 

Killed. The word refused to process properly, your brain short-circuiting as the reality sank in. You had more than burns on your hands now—this was blood. 

Shoko sighed, rubbing her temples. “I tried, but... the corpses were completely mangled. Either grotesquely deformed or burned to ash. Nothing I could do.”

Deformed—Mahito’s signature. Burned—Jogo’s flames.

Mahito might have gone rogue, defied orders for the fun of it, but Jogo? You’d seen how loyal he was to Sukuna, thoroughly aware of the consequences of betrayal.

Which meant...

Sukuna had lied. Double-crossed you just to make you blow that whistle.

Nausea surged up your throat. You barely managed to point at the bucket beside the bed before Shoko thrust it into your hands, your stomach violently rejecting everything it contained.

“Major toll on your body,” she commented, rising from her chair. “Rest. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Between heaves, you managed to gasp out: “The others?”

A small, reassuring smile tugged at her lips. “Don’t worry about them. You’re a special lot, your group.” With that, she left, abandoning you to the mingled stench of vomit and betrayal.

Your betrayal. His betrayal.

It was funny how upset you were over his lies when you’d been weaving nothing but lies for weeks now.

But somehow, his one lie felt like it had tainted everything—every glance, every touch, every bruising kiss now felt poisoned by that betrayal. Each memory replayed in your mind with a sickening twist that made your stomach churn all over again.

And why did that betrayal cut deeper than knowing people had died? That their blood was partly on your hands? Your moral compass felt so warped you couldn’t find its true north anymore. But you knew exactly who had pulled it off course, degree by devastating degree.

A sudden drop in temperature made your still-heightened senses snap to attention.

A rustle outside, then a gentle tap against the glass, like a bird testing its beak against the window. But birds didn’t move with such deliberate purpose, didn’t make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

The window frame creaked—the sound of claws scraping against wood as something worked at the latch from outside.

The faintest trace of his energy ghosted across your senses, detectable only because you’d grown intimately attuned to its particular flavor of malevolence...

Your muscles seized, torn between fight and flight—anger pulling you towards the former. But exhaustion had stripped you of both options.

As the window inched upward, you could only watch as a hand curled around the frame, tattooed wrist standing out against the pale wood. Then came the flash of pink hair, and finally—the last remnants of moonlight were blocked, cloaking the room in darkness except for those eyes.

Twin points of hellfire burning with such intensity that the shadows themselves seemed to recoil in fear. His broad shoulders filled the entire space as he sat ducked beneath the top frame.

The devil himself—here at Jujutsu High.

Once again come to claim you.

---------------------------------------------------------

No Sukuna in this chapter, guys—sorry! 😫🙏 Had to push the plot forward a bit.

But don't worry, the next few chapters will be all about Sukuna and MC!! Hope you still enjoyed this one, and thanks so much for all your support again 🫶💕

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel , @nessca153 , @technicallysublimedemon

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

[olivialau]

Cursed

Blood sweat & tears but I finally finished this 😁

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch.33

Sukuna x Reader

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 33 - Whispers and Whistles

“We need to discuss something, girl.”

Instinctively, your feet shuffled back, and your hands shot up between you in a rather unconvincing attempt to claim your space.

Your racing pulse betrayed you, oh so easily, in the subtle quiver of your fingertips: a scared animal, trying to bluff its way out.

Despite your earlier—and clearly misguided—assumption that he was the most, how would you put it... agreeable of Sukuna’s accomplices, Kenjaku's polite mask was fracturing before your eyes.

For the first time, his face truly matched the dangerous aura you’d always sensed beneath the facade.

When his gaze caught your trembling hands, his lips curled higher. His eyebrows smoothed, eyes widening just enough to let the menace bleed through. Those empty, dark pupils locked onto yours with piercing focus, leaving no room for misinterpretation: he wasn’t backing down.

He took a step forward, bumping his body into your outstretched palms, completely unbothered by your poor attempt to protect your space.

Cocky bastard.

Before you knew it, you’d jumped back. A big leap to get as far away from him as possible in a single motion.

Kenjaku laughed it off, closing the gap straight away, mirroring each of your steps until your back met the unyielding brick wall of the apartment complex.

With his robes practically smothering your face, you were desperate to gain even an inch of extra space. So, you let your backpack slip from your shoulders, pressing yourself against—no, into—the surface behind you.

Despite Sukuna's assurance that Kenjaku wouldn't dare harm you, his shift in demeanor—and, his pale hand now reaching for your chin—told a different story.

“Just take a step back, and I'll talk with you, okay?” Your voice wavered in a last-ditch effort to defuse the situation.

As expected, his feet stayed firmly in place. His thumb and index finger pinched your jaw, fingers tightening as he dragged your head from side to side, studying you like a specimen under glass.

From this close, you could see every gruesome detail of the crude stitches crisscrossing his forehead. It was disgusting, and you hated that you couldn't look away, trapped by his grip, forced to endure the silent inspection.

His thumb drifted to your lower lip, pulling it down before the pad of his finger ran over the tender flesh inside. For a second, when he leaned in even closer, the disturbing thought of him putting his filthy lips on yours seemed to become less of a creepy notion and more of an inescapable reality.

Your hand twitched toward the knife in your boot, mind already calculating the exact angle and force needed to drive it into his side if he dared to cross that line.

But just then, he shifted his focus away from your lips. His fingers drifted lower, hooking around the edge of your collar, tugging lightly as he tilted his head, eyes drifting over the curve of your neck.

A black strand of hair fell across his face as he examined your neck up close. It brushed your skin, and the tickle made you tense up. It was the revolting kind of tickle. The kind you feel when a spider creeps up your leg, the kind that makes your skin crawl and your stomach churn.

You could feel his eyes traveling down your cleavage before his pupils darted up to meet yours for just a second, a knowing chuckle spilling from his lips.

The audacity.

It quickly snapped you from fear to fury.... Your hands found his shoulders, ready to shove him away. But before you could, Kenjaku stepped back of his own accord.

There was an instantaneous change in his demeanor, as if a switch had flipped. His eyes narrowed to polite crescents and that unsettling grin morphed into a courteous smile that somehow managed to be even more disturbing.

What the hell had just happened?

“Just as I thought,” he murmured, as another chuckle escaped him. Your heart was still hammering in your chest, but you forced yourself to steady.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you demanded.

Kenjaku's gaze flicked to your neck with subtle implication. Confused, you followed his line of sight. Your collar was still wrinkled, jutting forward slightly, and as you peered down to fix it, Kenjaku's thorough inspection suddenly made a lot more sense.

The scratches, the red marks...

Though his mask of civility remained firmly in place, it couldn’t entirely conceal the glint of sick amusement woven through his words.

“So,” he drawled, “you and Sukuna are involved in that way, hmm?”

He reached out a hand toward your shoulder, but you swatted it away with a sharp flick. A wounded expression crossed his face as he pulled back, softly brushing over the red sting—drama queen—before letting out a deep sigh.

“Girl, you do realize Sukuna is just using you, don’t you? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I wouldn’t want to see a young thing like you get hurt.”

His worry was so blatantly fake it almost made you laugh. Kenjaku didn’t care about your well-being any more than Sukuna cared about subtlety when he'd ravaged your skin.

You met his gaze, steady now, your confidence slowly returning.

“Thanks for the advice, Frankenstein—” The freshly improvised nickname slid off your tongue with biting sarcasm.

“—but I think I’ll be just fine. So, if that’s all...”

You crouched to grab your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder, but from the corner of your eye, you saw Kenjaku's expression flicker—a tiny twitch, yet enough to make you pause.

Oh.

It seemed Kenjaku didn't take kindly to being called names.

Your fingers tightened around the straps, and you braced yourself, wondering if your little jab would cost you dearly now.

But his mask effortlessly slid back into place—another fake smile.

He was good at this.

“You’ve got spirit,” he murmured through gritted teeth—the only way he could suppress his mounting irritation with a certain impudent brat.

“I can see why Sukuna likes to play with you.”

You rolled your eyes and were about to walk away when his next words made you pause.

“But that’s all you are to him; a toy. That’s all you’ll ever be.”

A toy...

As much as you wanted them not to, his words got to you. You couldn’t help it—you couldn’t help but wince at the sharp pang that struck your heart...

Kenjaku let his gaze drift to some distant point, his hands curling into loose fists to still the twitching of his fingers.

“When you break, or when he tires of you, he’ll dispose of you. You know that, don’t you?”

You hissed through gritted teeth, crossing your arms to shield yourself from the truth in his words.

The idea of being used, of all the warnings you'd so stubbornly ignored being proven right—that was the one fear you dreaded to acknowledge.

And hearing it said aloud made it so much harder to deny, leaving you with nothing but fragile, circumstantial proof that Sukuna wasn't the monster that everyone claimed he was.

Maybe you really were just a foolish girl lost in her own delusions... But even then, you didn’t intend to just admit that to this freak.

“Why does it matter to you?” you snapped, shifting your weight onto your right leg and cocking your hip in a weak attempt at nonchalance to hide your hurt.

But luck had it that Kenjaku didn’t even bother to look at you. His sandal scuffed against the tiles, grinding tiny rocks into dust—the sound gnawing at your already tight-wound nerves—before he finally answered you.

“What does it matter to me...?”

He let out a sigh. “If you’re dead—if Sukuna loses interest and cuts you up into little pieces... well, that sets us back in our plans.”

His pupils slid to the side, narrowing in on your neck with a certain disgust.

“The more he indulges his toys, the sooner they’ll bore him,” he continued, his disgust morphing into mock pity. “Nothing more than a ragged, used puppet.”

His fingers traced the scar running through his temple, and his lips twisted into a smirk.

“Now, I’ve got a knack for using broken puppets,” he added with a soft, unsettling laugh. You didn’t even want to imagine what that meant, and you couldn’t, for Kenjaku didn’t give you any time to dwell on it, continuing his lecture without pause.

“Sukuna, however? He barely tolerates new, shiny puppets. Let alone used ones.”

Kenjaku straightened his robes, the sharp sound of fabric snapping against itself breaking the tension as he turned to depart.

“I’d like to keep you around for a little while. So I’d advise you to take a step back. Don’t let him use you like some cheap—”

He paused mid-sentence, turning his head to glance over his shoulder—a taunting grin on his face as he let his mask fall away one last time.

“You know what I mean, don’t you?”

---------------------------------------------------------

The entire way to Jujutsu High, your emotions swung between seething rage at that sanctimonious, insufferable monk—and the nauseating anxiety his words had left behind.

The latter doubled by the dreadful anticipation of having to explain your sudden disappearance to everyone at the school. God. You could only hope they'd forgive you for ignoring all their calls and texts.

At least Gojo had forgiven you—though you weren’t naive. You knew his interest wasn’t just about you. It was as much about your entanglement with the deadliest being in existence—and, most inconveniently, also the object of your desire: Sukuna.

You stopped just in front of the school gates, drawing in a deep breath of courage.

Despite your unsettling run-in with Kenjaku, you'd somehow managed to arrive early—a small mercy, considering you still hadn't figured out how to explain your apparent resurrection to your classmates. Ideally, you wanted to do it in a way that wouldn’t completely throw everyone off—but how?

With your head lowered, you slipped into the building, trying to blend into the background. You passed by countless unfamiliar faces, each one seeming to scrutinize you. Maybe it was just paranoia, but it felt like everyone knew. Like Sukuna’s scent was all over you, and they could smell it.

A flash of white caught your attention as you passed the teachers' lounge—Gojo's spiky hair jutting up over the back of a leather couch. You paused, fingers curling around the strap of your bag, considering whether Gojo might be able to offer some advice on handling your unexpected comeback without causing a major scene.

In retrospect, asking Gojo Satoru for counseling on subtlety was probably the dumbest thing you could ever have done.

Which was precisely how you found yourself crammed into the classroom's supply closet, surrounded by towers of dusty files and the sharp, chalky smell of accumulated academia. The musty air tickled your nose as you tried not to sneeze.

All because Gojo thought it would be hilarious to turn your return into 'his best prank to date'.

Before long, you could hear the shuffle of feet and the scrape of chairs as your classmates filed in, completely oblivious to your current... predicament.

Right on the other side of the flimsy wooden door of the closet, you heard the heavy thud of a backpack hitting the floor. Yuji, most likely—he always sat in that same seat in the back.

“Oi, Megumi, you seen Gojo-sensei today?”

His voice carried through the thin wood, lighthearted but tinged with some concern.

“He’s acting stranger than usual.”

Megumi’s response from the desk to his side was as immediate as it was flat. “I don’t question anything that man does anymore.”

There was a brief pause, as if he were quietly processing something, before he added, “But yeah… he’s been acting weird. Keeps snickering to himself like a lunatic.”

From the desk in front of them, Nobara—the queen of gossip—swiveled around in her seat and chimed in.

“Oh my god, yes! I caught him having a full-on conversation with that closet in the back earlier. Like, dramatic hand gestures and everything. I swear he's finally cracked.”

Yuji snorted, barely containing his laughter.

“No way.”

Before they could spiral into further speculations, Gojo’s obnoxiously loud voice rang out, cutting through the conversation and officially kicking off the class.

“Alright, kiddos!” He sang out, way too cheerful, even for him—seriously, could he be any more obvious about being up to something?

“Today’s class is gonna be legendary. Prepare to be amazed, awestruck, and have your jaws hit the floor!”

Nobara groaned, slumping over her desk with a suffering sigh.

“That’s what you said last time, and then you spent an hour showing off your stupid Pokémon cards.”

The gasp of horror that followed was so extravagant, you could hear it all the way from the front of the class.

Yeah, that's how dramatic it was.

“They were Digimon cards, you uncultured soul! DI-GI-MON!”

You could hear his footsteps next, the soft tap of his shoes growing louder as he moved toward Yuji’s desk.

“Yuji, my favorite student who actually knows the difference between Pokémon and Digimon...”

You just knew Megumi rolled his eyes at that.

“Could you be a dear and grab me… uh, a cursed tool from the supply closet over there?”

A chill ran down your spine, and your breath hitched. Oh no.

You pressed your ear to the door, nerves tightening as every possible outcome flashed through your mind. Would they hate you? Yell at you? Storm out? Or worse—would they ignore you, just like you had them?

Your thoughts snapped back to the present when Yuji, on the other side, started to question if Gojo had really lost it.

“Uh… you sure there’s cursed tools in there?”

“That’s what I said,” Gojo chirped, his voice dripping with glee that was now borderline frightening.

After an uncomfortable silence, you heard Yuji hesitantly push his chair back and stand up. “Okay, if you say so…”

His cursed energy drew closer, and though you could feel it, the sound his footsteps barely registered—drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears, thumping to the rhythm of your anxious heart.

You were definitely going to kill Gojo after this.

The wood rattled as Yuji’s hand landed on the handle of the sliding door, and with a protesting creak, he pulled it open, flooding your hideout with light.

You blinked up at him, frozen—like a deer caught in headlights.

And Yuji blinked back, his expression cycling through confusion, disbelief, and dawning recognition faster than a slot machine. “...Huh?”

Then, the class fell silent.

“Hey, guys...” you managed, stepping out of the closet with an awkward shuffle, brushing the dust from your uniform as you did.

Megumi, who had been determinedly ignoring the whole situation, snapped his attention over. His eyes widened fractionally—which, for him, meant he was more than a little surprised.

“You've got to be kidding me,” he muttered, though the relief in his voice betrayed him.

Nobara's shriek of delight shattered any remaining tension as she launched herself at you, nearly taking you down.

“Finally! Finally, I'm not stuck alone with these loser idiots anymore. They have zero gossip, no sense of fashion, or hygiene for that matter. It’s been torture, seriously. You have no idea!”

Yuji's indignant “Hey!” barely registered before he wrapped both you and Nobara in a bear hug that threatened to crack ribs. His voice softened, warm breath stirring your hair as he spoke.

“We were really worried, you know? I must've called a hundred times, checked every restaurant, café, and park in town—Megumi too...”

Megumi's cheeks flushed as he glanced away, suddenly finding the window incredibly fascinating. And the tension that had been suffocating you finally loosened as you allowed yourself to relax into the impromptu group hug.

Gojo's triumphant “Ta-da!” was completely unnecessary at this point, but when did that ever stop him? He spread his arms wide, beaming. “Didn't I promise today's class would be spectacular?”

Nobara wriggled free from Yuji’s embrace, and as soon as he let go, her gaze sharpened, and she raised a brow at you.

“So Gojo-sensei convinced you to hide in this nasty closet?”

“More like coerced," you muttered defensively, crossing your arms.

Gojo gasped, “Coerced? Me? I merely provided some gentle encouragement!”

“Gentle encouragement?” Megumi's voice dripped with skepticism as he mirrored your crossed arms, eyes narrowing at his teacher. “And what exactly did that entail?”

Gojo's blindfold shifted ever so slightly, a glint of mischief hiding behind it as his grin widened.

“Oh, you know, just mentioned that if she didn't play along, I might accidentally let slip something about her situation with Su—”

Your hand shot out with the speed of a striking snake, clamping over his mouth mid-word as you mouthed a,“Don’t. You. Dare,” in his direction.

Nobara's eyes lit up, and her grin turned positively feral. “Oh? Oh. This is going to be good.” She leaned forward, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Spill it, sensei.”

“Nope. Not happening.” You fixed Gojo with a glare that could have melted steel, your hand still firmly pressed against his mouth. “Right, sensei?”

If he valued his life, he'd keep his mouth shut about a certain crimson-eyed complication in your life.

Gojo nodded, peeling your hand from his mouth.

“Sorry kiddo, my lips are sealed.”

---------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the day passed in moderate normalcy—well, as normal as things could be at Jujutsu High—and, apart from the constant bombardment of questions about where you'd disappeared to, why you couldn't reply, and why you had such a knack for vanishing in the first place.

All that practice in lying these past weeks suddenly seemed lost on you as you wove together one pathetic excuse after another. You couldn't fathom how they still tolerated you.

The afternoon's training session was particularly brutal—though you couldn't shake the suspicion that your friends had coordinated their attacks as subtle punishment for your radio silence. By the time you finished washing up and preparing to leave, your muscles ached with a strain that felt more like penance than practice.

And the thought of returning home—to him—added an equally painful strain on top of it.

Your tired goodbye in the corridor was interrupted by Nobara's firm grip on your arm. “Listen here, missy. You better show up tomorrow, or I swear we'll kidnap you back to the dorms ourselves.” Her words were stern, but her eyes soft.

“24/7 surveillance. Don't test me.”

Yuji punctuated her threat with a quick flick to your forehead. “Yeah, you idiot.”

Even Megumi contributed a curt nod and his signature “Hmph”—which, felt like a paragraph of worried lectures compressed into a single sound.

You bowed slightly before offering a salute, forcing lightness into your voice.

“Yes sir, yes ma'am!”

As you zipped up your coat and turned to leave, waving one final time with a genuine smile on your face, the normalcy of the moment felt comforting and light.

The crisp afternoon air hit your face as you stepped outside, and for a moment, you reveled in that strange weightlessness that came with pretending everything was fine.

Yet there was that familiar pull too—that inexplicable gravity drawing you back to the tension, the danger, and the intoxicating feeling of Sukuna's cursed energy, draping over you like a blanket. The pull usually grew heavier the farther you walked from the school premises.

But this time, when you reached the gates, you realized you still felt unusually light—so light, in fact, that something felt off... and a quick pat-down of your chest confirmed your suspicions: you'd forgotten your backpack, with your phone inside.

If you lost your phone now and were forced to ghost your friends all over again, you weren't sure if they'd forgive you so easily.

Your shoes squeaked against the polished floors as you hurried back inside. But just before rounding the corner to retrieve your bag, Nobara's voice, pitched high with frustration, stopped you cold.

“Okay, but seriously—am I the only one who thinks something's like, seriously wrong here?”

You froze mid-step, pressing yourself against the wall. Your heart clenched at the genuine concern in her voice.

“No.” Megumi's response lacked its usual detachment, instead replaced by brimming frustration. “The excuses don't add up. Phone troubles? Family emergencies? And now suddenly everything's fine?”

“Yeah...” Yuji agreed—the gravity of his voice was enough to make you want to sink into the ground.

“Did you see how she kept touching her neck? Like she was hiding something?”

“And flinching whenever anyone got too close,” Nobara added, anger bleeding into her words. “I know we're all pretending everything's normal, but—” A frustrated groan escaped her. “God, it pisses me off! We're supposed to be friends, aren't we? What's the point if she can't trust us?”

The sound of Nobara's shoe scuffing against the floor filled the heavy pause that followed.

“Maybe...” Yuji started, “maybe she's in some kind of trouble? Like, the kind she can't talk about?”

“All the more reason she should tell us,” Megumi cut in, “We're not exactly helpless. Whatever it is, we could—”

“Help?” Nobara's snort was bitter—nothing like her usual bright laugh. “How can we help if she won't even tell us what's wrong? I mean, I get it. I do. But it still...”

Her voice cracked. “It still hurts, you know?”

You let yourself slide down the wall.

Sure, they'd welcomed you back with open arms, but underneath that warmth lay real pain, real worry. These people—your friends—had spent weeks wondering if you were dead in a ditch somewhere, and here you were, feeding them cheap excuses.

“Should we tell Gojo-sensei?” Yuji asked.

“He already knows something,” Megumi replied with a certainty that suggested he'd been watching, analyzing, for far longer than you'd realized. “Haven't you noticed? He watches her like a hawk.”

“Yeah, well, fat lot of good that does us,” Nobara muttered. “He's probably in on whatever this is. You saw how he was acting this morning.”

After another weighted pause, Yuji spoke again, stripped of nearly all his drive. “So what do we do?”

“We wait,” Megumi said firmly. “Keep watching. And when whatever this is inevitably blows up—because it will—we'll be ready.”

You heard Nobara's sharp intake of breath, like she was about to say more, but instead, her footsteps stormed off toward the dorms, followed by the others' more silent retreat.

After giving yourself a moment to compose yourself, to wipe away the tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you retrieved your abandoned backpack from the empty hallway.

The walk home felt hollow, each step through the bustling city streets seemed to echo into the distance.

You'd convinced yourself you were protecting them by keeping them in the dark, but maybe you were just protecting yourself from having to face the reality of your choices.

The worst part? You couldn't even promise you'd tell them the truth tomorrow. Not with Sukuna's binding vow hanging over your head like a guillotine, and not if it meant admitting you were becoming a monster by falling for one.

So you'd keep lying. Keep hurting them. Keep pretending everything was—

“Watch it, brat.”

The growl came a second after you slammed into what felt like a brick wall. A bit of déjà vu—was this the third time? Fourth time you'd bumped into him like this? You stumbled back, already knowing who you'd find towering over you.

And it was exactly the crimson eyes you'd expected.

“Can you move, Sukuna?” you snapped. He hadn't done anything particularly egregious today—well, besides nearly making you come undone under his fingers this morning. But perhaps, subconsciously, you blamed him for the hurt your friends were feeling right now... how typically pathetic of you to once again push the blame onto someone else.

You stood in the middle of the street, people flowing around you like water around stones, oblivious to the predator in their midst.

And when that predator bared his teeth at you and his angry glare didn't seem to waver, you gave in,

“Ugh... I'm sorry, okay? I'm just not in a good mood today.”

He let out a low growl and grabbed your shoulder, shoving you forward. “Walk.”

It wasn't a suggestion, and so you let him steer you through the crowd, his grip tight enough to remind you exactly who you'd been addressing so casually. At the first empty alley, he yanked you in and planted himself against the wall, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Is this about the conversation with Kenjaku this morning? I'll just forget about it so—” you started, trying to head off his wrath, but his sharp laugh cut through your words.

“Oh? Were you eavesdropping on our conversation all the way from the bathroom, woman? How sly...” His eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Perhaps I should chain you up the next time I have guests.”

The threat barely registered as you realized—the conversation he was referring to was the one he had with Kenjaku by the door during your shower, not the one-on-one you had with Kenjaku outside.

And thank god for that, it was better he remained entirely unaware of that particular encounter.

“No, I just—nevermind. Why did you drag me here?”

He reached deeper into his pocket, pulling out what appeared to be an ordinary silver whistle. It caught the dying sunlight as it dangled from his fingers.

“Tomorrow at Jujutsu High. Three o'clock. Blow this and it will summon a curse.”

“Why would I—”

“Because,” he cut in, clearly savoring the moment, “Jujutsu High will be receiving some unexpected visitors tomorrow.” His lips curled into that cruel smile that reminded you he was no ally—he was an enemy, fighting from the opposite side of a chasm you kept trying to bridge.

“And you, brat, are going to create a distraction for them.”

Your stomach dropped. “You're kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I'm joking, woman?” He pushed off the wall, closing the distance between you until barely inches remained.

“There’s something inside Jujutsu High that we need. Jogo and Mahito will retrieve it tomorrow, but they can’t unless all eyes are elsewhere. You’ll blow this whistle, summon a curse, and create enough chaos to make those pathetic fools scatter and scurry, leaving their precious artifacts unguarded.”

“No.” The word came out stronger than you expected, fueled by the memory of your friends' hurt voices. “I won't help you with a plan that puts my friends at risk.”

His jaw clenched. “Don't forget your place.”

“My place? What place? My place as the toy you play with in the morning and discard in the afternoon? The girl you can’t decide if you want to kiss or kill?” A bitter laugh escaped you.

His hand twitched, and you recognized the tell—he was about to strike, either grab your throat or slap your face. But you knew his mannerisms so well by now that you caught his wrist before he could complete the motion.

And he... he let you.

He was stronger, you both knew that, and yet he allowed your delicate fingers to wrap around his wrist and halt his fury.

“They're my friends,” you said quietly, not with fight but with earnestness in your voice. “And you're asking me to help hurt them. Do you realize how fucked up that is?”

You could feel his entire body trembling with rage beneath your fingertips, fighting against his baser instincts.

“The binding vow—” he started—

but you weren't finished yet.

“Yeah, I know about the stupid vow! I'm reminded of it every minute of every day, but I won't obey you if it means people die—people I care about...”

A long silence followed, and you could see the battle raging behind his eyes. His wrist occasionally twisted in your grip, the fire behind his pupils fluctuating between a small flame and an inferno before settling somewhere in between.

He yanked his hand free and took a step back, running his fingers through his hair in a simple human gesture of frustration.

When he spoke again, his voice had lost some of its earlier edge.

“Even those frail teachers at Jujutsu High won't break a sweat against a curse like this—it's barely a grade one. Hell, even your little group of friends could exorcise it if they used their brains. It won't kill anyone.”

But it wasn't the curse that worried you—it was Patch-face and Volcano-head.

“That's not good enough. Do you remember how Mahito maimed me before? I want your word that they won’t kill anyone, that I won’t stumble upon a pile of deformed corpses or the smell of burned flesh.”

He stared at you for a long moment, irritated, because he couldn't quite comprehend how this had transformed from an undisputable command into a negotiation.

But he saw that wet gleam in your eyes, and—

“Tch. Fine,” he growled finally.

“I'll tell that fool Mahito to keep his victims breathing, and refrain from altering them... permanently.” He pressed the whistle into your palm, his fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.

“As for Jogo, he won't cause any unnecessary casualties, but I'll give him the same warning if that's what it takes for you to blow the damn whistle, woman.”

Sukuna grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to his, hovering mere inches away.

“And you will blow that whistle. That is a command.”

You met his gaze, and there it was again—that magnetic pull, that force that made you silently nod in agreement. That power Sukuna had over you not just because he'd enforced it, but because some part of you allowed him to have it.

And if you could have read his thoughts in that moment, you would have known he felt exactly the same way.

Though... he probably would have worded it differently: like a curse you'd put on him, like a festering wound steadily working its way deeper, cracking open his skin so his carefully buried humanity started to slowly ooze out.

And just like you, he was allowing it to happen—allowing you to touch that bare skin and peel it open just a little further each time.

When you couldn't hold his gaze anymore, you took a small step back, fidgeting with the whistle before tucking it into your pocket.

“Hey, Sukuna?”

He raised an eyebrow, staring down at you.

If he agreed to your conditions then...

“Thank you.” The words came out soft, and before you could second-guess yourself, you rose on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his.

Your first kiss that was, just a kiss. Not a battle, not a lust-fueled dance. Just a simple, ordinary touch of lips.

You pulled away quickly, not daring to see his reaction as you turned and dashed toward the apartment, leaving Sukuna frozen in place.

He stood there, motionless, as the city moved around him in an endless blur of faceless ants. His fingers drifted up to his lips, brushing over them.

For the first time in centuries, the King of Curses found himself utterly still, utterly silent. The inferno of his cursed energy had quieted to barely a whisper, like even it was holding its breath.

As the last rays of sunlight bled from the sky, casting long shadows across the empty alley, Sukuna finally lowered his hand from his lips. A low, confused growl rumbled in his chest as he turned to make his way to the apartment—home to you.

---------------------------------------------------------

Okay, first off, I want to apologize for the hiatus. Life hit me with a lot—health issues, writer’s block, the holidays—and some other personal challenges in my private life. It’s been overwhelming, and honestly, I kind of lost my spark for a while.

Ao3 curse? Maybe. Or maybe it’s just good ol' bad karma for releasing smut on the internet—who knows?

That said, when I finally started writing again, it felt really good, so I’m going to do my best to stick to a bi-weekly update schedule from now on. Some chapters might be a bit shorter because of it, but when I’m in the flow, they might end up being longer too. We’ll see how it goes!

For everyone still here reading—thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your support means the absolute world to me, and I genuinely appreciate each and every one of you. Truly, I love you all. 💕

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel , @nessca153 , @technicallysublimedemon

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch.32

Sukuna x Reader

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity. CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT AND SLIGHT DUBCON.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

-----------------------------------------

CHAPTER 32 - Two Sides of the Same Door

Through the haze of sleep, you felt the cold sting of the room’s chill against your cheeks. The silken sheets draped over the rest of you held your warmth like a soft cocoon, and you clutched them tighter, dragging them up to cover the tip of your nose—but instantly regretting it as they slipped off your feet, leaving your toes at the mercy of the biting air.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath, shifting as you tried to burrow back into your cozy nest, clinging to the last wisps of thoughtless sleep. But there was always some part of you left exposed, just enough for goosebumps to creep across your skin, each one nudging you closer to the horrible but inevitable process of waking up.

You sighed, pulling the silk all the way over your head as if that could somehow make you disappear—or at least protect you from the waking world and its shameful reminders of yesterday.

But there was no escaping.

The raw sting on your inner thighs, the angry scratches on your hips where his claws had dug in like he was holding down a prey, the tender ache of your swollen lips from his countless, hungry kisses—they were all too painfully present to ignore.

Yeah... it was pretty clear that no amount of covers could hide you from the truth:

That, yesterday, Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, had reduced you to a drooling, moaning mess for him...

Him and his stupid, supersized cock.

You grimaced, reaching down to where your skin still tingled and burned, tracing your finger over your thigh, surprised by how tacky and stiff the surface felt.

But you quickly jerked your hand back as your brain processed why—

“Ah, for fuck’s sake,” you whine out. Of course, he hadn’t even bothered to clean up his mess. Dried streaks of cum were still smeared across your skin, a sticky testament to his apparent philosophy of:

'You dare pass out on me? Then suffer the consequences.'

Sleep was definitely off the table now. A shower was all you could think about. So, you pushed the silk sheets off your face, forcing your eyes open.

The four crimson walls of Sukuna’s room stared back at you, only lit up by the flickering glow of a few candles. Their light glinted off the many deadly weapons on display, casting little spots of yellow that danced across the surface.

It was surprisingly beautiful, and you followed the little lights all the way down to the floor, where your torn clothes lay scattered in pieces.

And that’s when you realized, you were among those scraps, sprawled out on the cold oak boards instead of the mattress.

You could add that to the lecture he was definitely going to get later on his complete lack of proper aftercare...

Though you could already hear his cocky retort in your head: 'Hah! A mere human should be honored to sleep in my presence at all.'

Thinking of Sukuna’s presence… you blinked, suddenly uneasy. It wasn’t there—the thick, oppressive energy that always hung around him like a stormcloud.

The air felt wrong without it.

A nervous feeling crept over you as you pushed yourself upright, your gaze immediately darting to the bed—empty.

The mattress still bore the dents, creases, and stains from last night, but Sukuna was nowhere to be seen.

For a second, you couldn’t stop your thoughts from spiraling. Was history about to repeat itself? Did he regret yesterday?

Had it been a bit... too much?

No. You couldn’t let your mind go there. You gave yourself a light slap to the cheek, to snap out of it. Sukuna wouldn’t abandon you—not anymore. He’d admitted it himself: ignoring you only made it worse.

You took a steadying breath.

Actually, this wasn’t unusual at all. The lack of windows in his dark abode made it impossible to tell if dawn had just broken or if the morning was already well underway. And you knew that Sukuna often left early, slipping out to handle whatever bloody business occupied him out there.

Now that you thought about it, there was a big fat chance he hadn’t even left at all. Maybe he was just a floor below, seated on his throne like some goddamn king.

Clutching the sheets tight around your chest, you glanced down at your torn clothes. Completely ruined—unwearable in their current state. You sighed and scanned the room until your eyes landed on one of Sukuna’s robes draped over an antique chair.

It felt like a crime to even look at it, but your options were—you reached down, hand clutching at the shredded remains of your panties on the floor—limited.

What else were you supposed to do when he’d torn every other piece of clothing in the room?

You quickly slipped into the large robe and quietly shuffled over to the door.

When you pushed it open, a sudden flood of light hit you, and you squinted, your eyes fighting to adjust. The huge hole in the doorframe let in all the harsh rays of sunlight, and you could barely see.

“Argh, too bright.”

You held one hand out in front of you like a makeshift obstacle detector while the other shielded your eyes as you tried to peer through the tiny gaps between your fingers.

But even then, you nearly tripped over the damn robe when a loud crash suddenly boomed through the air, followed by screams so piercing that you wished you had a second pair of hands to cover your ears as well as your eyes.

To the best of your ability, you hurried to the entrance and peeked out into the corridor, trying to locate the source of the panic.

But there was no one there...

Then another scream rang out, this one clearly coming from the apartment two doors down. Without thinking, you rushed in that direction. But right as your feet moved, you froze.

There was a sharp swish followed by a guttural growl that could only belong to one person.

Sukuna.

Your breath caught as he stepped into view, casually hauling a massive wooden door under his arm. Blood streaked his bare chest, fresh and glistening, but it was the grin curling at the corner of his mouth that stopped you cold.

He didn’t look the slightest bit bothered by the chaos he’d caused. No—that sorry mess didn’t matter to him.

What mattered to him was you—and how utterly baffled you looked—and how endlessly amusing he found it every time he succeeded in unnerving you like that...

When he was a foot away from you and nearly knocked you in the head with the door that jutted out from under his shoulder, he raised a teasing brow.

“Hm? Not moving, brat?”

Instinctively, you stepped aside and followed him into the apartment, still glaring with wide eyes—kind of—able to deduce what had just happened but unable to let it fully sink in...

Sukuna noticed your big-eyed stare and set the door down against the wall.

He was clearly irritated by your inability to comprehend the obvious, and so he proceeded to explain it to you as if you were some dumb, snotty child.

“It's a new door, woman. Since that blue-eyed pest destroyed the last one... You have eyes, don't you?” He scoffed.

“So why must I spell it out?”

The brand-new door, identical to the old one... his bloodstained chest and the hellish screams from two doors down.

“You...” You put a palm to your face.

“Oh my god, Sukuna, did you hurt the neighbors and steal their door?”

Sukuna looked at you again, that same look as before—the one that made you feel like you’d just said the most dim-witted thing imaginable.

“Huh? Hurt? No... I killed them. Once again, you have functioning eyes, don't you?”

He dragged a finger through the large stain of blood on his chest, as if to drive the point home.

Oh god.

Every time your stupid crush clouded your judgement, Sukuna made sure to remind you of who he really was—in the most twisted, wicked way possible.

And the worst thing... you were pretty sure it wasn’t even intentional; it was just who he was.

“Sukuna! You what?!” You yelled out peeking outside to make sure he wasn't kidding. But to your horror, you saw a big pool of blood forming in front of the entrance, two houses away.

You glared at him in fury,

“You can't just kill people to get a damn door? Are you crazy?”

Sukuna barely paid you any mind as he hoisted the door back into place, lining it up over the hinges with a snarl.

“Woman, you know exactly who I am. I'd say you're the delusional one for thinking I would do anything less than slaughter them...” He let out a cruel chuckle.

“Have you fallen so hard after getting a taste of me that your judgment’s all clouded?”

With a sharp snap, he slammed the door into its hinges.

“Don't think yesterday changes anything. I may tolerate your presence, but that's all. I don't tolerate weak, groveling insects.”

He tolerates you, huh? Somehow, that felt like a compliment. An odd, backhanded one, sure... but;

It scared you how you lit up at his words—forgetting the whole door situation so easily. It was more than unsettling. Sukuna was carving gashes into your morals, into your sense of self, cut by cut—and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“So… I’m not, a weak, groveling insect? Is that what you’re saying?” you asked, blinking up at him through your lashes.

“If that’s the case… how about you let me return to Jujutsu High? I’m sure I can defend myself now. Seeing as I'm 'not weak' and all,”

Sukuna finally turned to face you, slowly... deliberately.

He cocked his head, crimson eyes narrowing as his hand disappeared into the pocket of his pants.

Time seemed to freeze as he rummaged around, your focus entirely on him. And then, with one quick jerk, he pulled something free—a glint of silver catching the light.

Before you could react, he tossed it at you—your dagger—now hurling in your direction with lightning speed.

“Hey—!” you yelped, scrambling to catch it.

Your fingers slipped over the hilt, the blade nicking your palm before you finally secured it in your grip.

“What the hell?! That’s dangerous!”

Sukuna shrugged, his grin spreading until a flash of white peeked through his lips.

“If a little nick like that has you whining, then you've answered your own question,”

The 'fuck you' forming on your tongue quickly fizzled out as you glanced down at the dagger. The blade was smeared with something dark—fresh blood.

Your stomach churned. Did he…? No. He couldn’t have. Could he?

“What were you even doing with this?” you demanded, your voice dropping lower, reluctant to hear the answer.

Sukuna didn’t bother to reply. Instead, he stepped toward you, like a lion stalking its prey. He stopped just a few paces away, spreading his arms wide to bare his tattooed chest. His gaze flickered briefly to the dagger in your hand, then locked with yours, a challenge in his eyes.

“C’mon, brat,” he rumbled.

“Try and cut me. If you can leave another mark—” He glanced at the faint gash on his palm, the one you’d left there yesterday with this very blade.

“—then I’ll allow you to return to Jujutsu High,” His grin widened until it was all sharp teeth and menace.

The fact that the cut was still there was a bit of a surprise. Why hadn't he healed it? Was it some sort of funny little souvenir to him?

Well... you'd gladly give him another if that meant you could get out of this brick jail.

You gripped the hilt of the blade tighter, steadying your cursed energy as it seeped slowly into the steel. The dagger pulsed under your touch—alive, and growing stronger with every drop you fed it.

Sukuna stood across from you, legs casually planted and arms now relaxed at his sides—deceptively open, practically inviting you to try and touch the invincible King of Curses.

A maddeningly smug grin was plastered across his face, promising one thing: he wasn’t going to go easy on you. And there was no way in hell you’d walk away from this unscathed.

And, to be fair, even you couldn't deny—this was going to be an uphill battle.

The cut you landed yesterday? A mere stroke of luck. He hadn’t seen it coming—hadn't anticipated that you could use your technique on cursed tools too—but now?

His full focus was locked on you.

Surr, he looked unbothered, but you weren’t naive enough to ignore the way his eyes tracked every single twitch of your muscles, every little flicker in your energy.

You took a deep breath.

At least you knew Sukuna’s fighting style; hours of grueling training had burned it into your bones.

His attacks were precise, unforgiving, and overwhelmingly quick.

So... how on earth would you do this?

Outmuscling him? Outrageous idea—his godly abs were staring you right in the face, telling you no way in hell.

Outmaneuvering him? Not a chance—his speed was unrivaled, save maybe for Gojo.

Outsmarting him? Difficult—Sukuna wasn’t just a fighter; he was cunning and calculated, the kind of opponent who could predict your moves before you'd even thought of them.

Which left... what exactly? Dumb luck? Sheer stubbornness? Maybe a few dirty tricks? Yeah, those were pretty much your only options...

You wasted no more time as you lunged forward, feinting left and then slicing low. But he didn’t even bother to dodge; he simply swatted your blade away with the flat of his hand.

At the same time, his other hand shot out, targeting your shoulder with a power-packed punch that you barely managed to dodge, twisting away just in time.

He followed up with a lightning-quick kick aimed at your side—a kick you could barely even perceive—and this time, it hit.

The impact was no joke, knocking the breath clean out of you, pain exploding across your ribcage as you stumbled backward into a coughing fit.

“You bore me, woman,” Sukuna drawled, faking a yawn, as his hands slipped down his pockets.

Gritting your teeth, you found your footing and pushed more cursed energy into the blade, feeling its weight grow heavier in your hands. If Sukuna could swat it away with his bare hands so effortlessly, it was clear you needed to channel every ounce of your power…

You charged again, unleashing a flurry of strikes aimed at his torso, fighting against the pain in your own torso. But Sukuna dodged each strike with infuriating ease—like you were nothing more than an irritating fly buzzing around his head.

“Cute,” he smirked as his hands left his pocket, and he threw his fist at you, this time targeting your stomach.

You squatted down, ducking under his attack and pivoting back to deliver a kick to his shin. And to your surprise, it landed—a small victory... but Sukuna barely flinched.

He grabbed you by the collar of your robe—or rather, his robe—you were still trapped in. And with a sharp yank, he pulled you forward.

You stumbled, your foot catching on the excess fabric at your ankles, cursing under your breath as you lost balance. And Sukuna wasted no time, seizing the opening.

His hand shot out, grasping your wrist and twisting it with a sharp crack, forcing the dagger from your grip...

It clattered to the ground, your lifeline and only chance at freedom lost.

To make things worse—before you could recover—he spun you around and shoved you down, bending you over the back of the couch.

“That's what you get for touching my things without permission, brat,” he taunted, his chest pinning you in place.

“And here I thought you might actually put in some effort to see your pathetic friends at Jujutsu High...”

You struggled against his hold, writhing as your heart thundered in your ears. The position was very uncomfortable, but worse still—it was very distracting. The warmth of his bare chest snug against your back, his breath teasing the side of your neck... it sent waves of vivid flashbacks from the previous day crashing over you.

And as you recalled all the nasty little things the two of you had done... suddenly, an idea hit you;

If there was ever a moment to play dirty, this was it.

You shifted subtly, tilting your hips and pressing your ass up against him. The movement was so slight that it could have been unintentional—not overt enough to betray your intentions, yet deliberate enough to catch Sukuna’s attention.

Just as you hoped.

He froze for a moment, the muscles in his arm letting loose as his cock twitched a single time—it was all the sign you needed to know his focus had slipped.

With the tip of your foot, you nudged the knife up from the ground, wringing free one of your hands and catching the weapon as it flung upward.

At your full speed, you twisted your arm to an impossibly uncomfortable angle and slashed upward, pouring every last drop of cursed energy into the blade as you blindly aimed for his ribs.

Sukuna’s eyes widened as he felt the blade bite into his side—not deep, but enough for a thick stream of blood to spill out.

He let out a low, pissed-off growl, his grip on you tightening for a fleeting moment before he stepped back and pulled away.

You picked yourself up from the back of the couch, panting fiercely as you leveled the dagger at him, the hilt still warm in your sweaty grip.

Meanwhile, Sukuna’s eyes trailed down to the cut, then back to you, a wicked grin returning to his face as he smeared the blood away with his hand.

For a moment, you couldn't help but admire how incredibly sexy he looked while doing so, but you quickly refocused when he let out a low, dark cackle.

“Clever, little minx,” he purred.

You stared at the wound spilling blood, feeling a twinge of guilt, wildly overshadowed by an overbearing satisfaction, as a teasing smile tugged at your lips.

“So, does that mean I can go back to Jujutsu High then?” you asked with a wink.

Sukuna wiped the remnants of blood off on his pants and stepped in your direction.

“Sure, little sorcerer, do whatever you want—” he replied, surprisingly—no, suspiciously easy in his concession.

And lo and behold, before you could fully relish your hard-won triumph, Sukuna's hand slipped around your waist, yanking you toward him and slamming you against the door.

With your back pressed against the cool wood, his calloused hand clamped around your wrists, pinning them above your head as the dagger clattered helplessly to the floor.

“And I’ll do as I please too,” he murmured against your ear, his breath filled with a hunger that you knew meant trouble.

With no mercy, he ripped the belt from your robe, the fabric falling open to expose your bare skin beneath. His toothy grin made way for a lustful smirk—one that was unexpectedly soft and playful for a man they called the King of Curses.

“Ah...! Don't do that,” you breathed, a shiver rippling through you as he traced his nails down your breast, visibly delighting in the display of scratches and marks he’d left on you the day before.

“Don’t do that? Have you forgotten… this is my robe. I can do whatever I desire with it,” his voice dropped to a sultry growl, deep and throaty—the cold touch of his fingertips drifting lower, teasing at the juncture of your legs.

“I can tear it right off your body if it pleases me.”

His hand slipped between the soft fat of your thighs, fingers burrowing down your folds as he found your clit with surprising ease. He began tracing circles, slowly drawing out each little motion as your legs instinctively clenched around his hand.

You’d never expected Sukuna to be so skilled at something so delicate; and it had to be a natural talent because you were certain he didn’t have any real experience in pleasing women.

Sure, he’d undoubtedly fucked an entire carousel back in the Heian Era, but this wasn't mere fucking—this was playing, teasing—edging.

And just as heat began to coil tightly in your belly, he withdrew his hand, trailing lower to collect the juices leaking from your cunt.

“And by the looks of you—”

He smeared the slick over the tender skin between your thighs, blending it with remnants of yesterday’s escapades that you still hadn’t managed to wash off.

“All marked and coated by me… I’d say I’ve left quite the claim on this insatiable body too.” His lips curled into a devilish grin, and your cheeks flushed crimson as you looked away.

“Argh—shut up! I'm not your property... I'm—Ah!”

Sukuna’s grip shifted from your thighs to your ass, squeezing a handful of flesh as he pressed his blood-stained torso against your breasts. His mouth inched toward your neck, teeth grazing your skin before he dragged his tongue slowly up to your ear, where a breathy whisper reverberated against your eardrums.

“Hmm~ is that so? Lucky for you, I have no qualms about taking what does not belong to me either.”

He pressed his growing cock against your pelvis, and you gulped, your heartbeat quickening as your hands twitched helplessly against his firm grasp.

Then, with a harsh slap to your ass—that stung like hell, by the way—his hand slid back down to your cunt, teasingly halting at your entrance...

He tapped lightly, his finger probing and rubbing, but never entering, the slick sound of your arousal filling the air as strings of juices clung to his fingertip.

You had to fight the urge to beg for more—so fucking bad.

And just as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of breaking, on the verge of surrendering your pride, a loud bang echoed against the door, reverberating through your entire body.

The doorframe shuddered, again and again as the first bang was followed by a chorus of firm knocks on the other side of the door.

Sukuna's expression darkened, a burning red igniting in his narrowed eyes as they locked onto the rattling doorknob. His patience thinned with each persistent knock, and his fingers twitched, ready to cut down whoever was behind that door.

But just as he prepared to strike, a voice sliced through the charged tension.

“Will you open the door? I can sense your cursed energy from miles away, Sukuna. We have matters to discuss.”

You recognized that voice—smooth and seemingly amicable, yet undeniably cold; it belonged to his monk-clad accomplice with the long shiny hair and the weird stitch down his forehead.

If you remembered right, he introduced himself as Geto back then...

Sukuna let out a mix between a sigh and a growl, his brows furrowing as his pupils shifted from the doorknob to you, warning you with his piercing stare.

“Don’t move and don’t make a sound.”

With that, he released your wrists, using the hand to grasp the doorknob and crack the door open just enough to peer through, effectively trapping you against the door with his body.

The fingers of his other hand continued to hold your dripping pussy hostage, teasing at your entrance even when you tried to push his hand away.

Fuck, this was embarrassing—so embarrassing that you felt like you might spontaneously combust when Sukuna started casually conversing with Geto through the gap.

“What is it? I’m busy. I don’t take lightly to being interrupted, Kenjaku.”

Kenjaku? That was strange... you were so certain he’d introduced himself as Geto before—or were you mistaken?

You tried to focus on their conversation, making every effort to ignore the little jolts of pleasure that threatened to escape as moans. Sukuna dipped down with just the slightest bit more force each time, nearly slipping inside and keeping you on edge.

The calm yet cold voice on the other side of the door answered:

“Hah. Yes, I’m terribly sorry about that, but there’s been a change of plans, and I had to inform you. We wouldn’t want to do anything without your say-so, now would we?”

“Hmph.”

Sukuna’s brows unfurrowed ever so slightly at the explanation, and you even caught the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. But it quickly became clear that had nothing to do with the conversation.

Suddenly, you felt his thick finger breach past your entrance, the sharp edge of his nail skimming against your gummy walls. An unexpected gasp slipped from your lips, and you quickly clamped your hand over your mouth, desperate to stifle the sound.

You shot Sukuna a pleading look, shaking your head, silently begging him to stop. But the smug bastard didn't even acknowledge you.

If anything, your silent protests only seemed to spur him on.

His pace quickened, finger pumping in and out of you, each thrust grazing all your tender spots inside with torturous precision. Waves of tingly pleasure rippled through your nerves, only amplified by how on high alert you were at the possibility of getting caught at any moment.

And damn, your body betrayed you so easily, clenching around his finger despite your mind’s protests.

Sukuna, on the other hand, kept his poker face effortlessly intact, continuing his conversation with not a care in the world...

Though that wasn't to say he didn't secretly relish every tight squeeze around his digit—every pretty little moan you so desperately tried to suppress.

“Well, I don't have time, leave and tell me later.” he hissed through the crack of the door, already moving to slam it shut.

But just before it closed, you caught Geto—or was it Kenjaku?—shoving his sandal between the door's edge.

Your heart lurched in panic. There was no way you were going to get caught in this position. You’d never recover your pride—if you even had any left.

Desperate to escape, you tried to slip from Sukuna’s grip, but he tightened his hold, refusing to let you go.

His muscled torso pressed you tighter against the door as he pushed in a second finger, both curling up to press right against your most sensitive spot before he fell back into his rhythm.

And with two thick fingers fucking into you, the moist, mushy sounds of your arousal became shamefully obvious, your cunt growing wetter and wetter.

“I see... is that so?” The composed purr from the other side was now tinged with a knowing hint of mischief.

“—I’ll give you a second then. Though, I really must insist you wrap it up,” he added, finally pulling his foot back from the door, allowing your pounding heart a brief respite as you exhaled through your fingers.

Sukuna grunted, clearly not thrilled, but reluctantly agreed.

“Fine,” he spat, before slamming the door shut and turning his gaze back to you.

He tore your hand from your mouth and slid his fingers down your cunt, all the way to the base, wanting to hear you moan over him properly, at least once.

Then, with a slow pull, he retracted his fingers, leaving you terribly empty, clenching down on nothing but air.

His hand glistened with your juices, and he admired his efforts for a moment before casually wiping them dry against his chest.

“We'll have to finish this some other time, little sorcerer,” he murmured, finally stepping back and giving you some space to breathe.

Though, in all honesty, you were more than a little disappointed he cut it off like that.

And apparently, your face betrayed your frustration because Sukuna's scowl softened into a half grin, his eyes catching your sad, shiny ones.

“Hah. So desperate? In that case, I’ll make sure you beg for it properly next time,” he teased, pulling you away from the door and ushering you on with a rough push to your back.

“Shower, clean that filth off, and go to your precious friends at Jujutsu High,” he called out from behind you as he walked back to the door and grabbed hold of the knob.

You froze at his words. He'd seriously allow you to go back to Jujutsu High? And today, no less? A rush of excitement jolted through you, quickly replacing any lingering disappointment with a silly sense of joy.

“Hurry, brat, unless you want to give my visitor a show,” Sukuna warned, tapping his foot in impatience.

Oh snap. You pulled the robe close and hurried to the bathroom, a small smile tugging at your lips. Once inside, you locked the door behind you and let out a long sigh of relief.

Finally, this confinement would end. You’d be able to see your friends again, escape this cramped apartment, and taste a sliver of freedom—even if the vow, ultimately, still shackled you.

Though right now... that wasn’t even the strongest chain holding you in place.

No, that honor belonged to your ever-growing feelings for Sukuna, binding you in ways far more terrifying than any vow ever could.

You turned to the mirror, studying your reflection as the robe slipped off your shoulders, pooling at your feet. Now, seeing all the scratches and marks Sukuna had left on you for the first time...

And there were plenty of them.

It was as if you could still feel his touch, and god, it felt so good... but you couldn’t help but wonder: was this really okay?

Were you just a fleeting object of enjoyment to Sukuna, or something more?

That thought—that gnawing uncertainty—made you doubt everything.

Stepping into the shower, you let the warm water wash away the lingering traces of his touch, the sticky sweat, and all the other... bodily fluids, disappearing down the drain.

You even allowed yourself to let go of some of the worry, rinsing it away alongside the rest.

For now, you'd shift your focus to the happy things in life: the prospect of seeing your friends again, fresh air, a different environment, talking to your mom, your dad, apologizing, and making everything right...

After drying off, you reached for the uniform tucked in your bag, silently thanking the gods for its long sleeves and high collar—perfect for hiding any residual marks.

You threw on some makeup, fixed your hair, and then stepped out of the bathroom with an excited rush, your backpack slung over your shoulder, ready to go.

Sukuna and his accomplice—now unmistakably recognizable as the man who introduced himself to you as Geto—stood in front of the door, wrapping up whatever short but important conversation they were having.

With your ears perked, you caught the distant sound of Sukuna’s voice.

“Tomorrow afternoon, then. Report back after—or send that fool Jogo, I don’t care. Just take one of them with you. I want to see for myself how strong they are.”

His voice had an unsettling edge to it—a kind of forcibly contained excitement that made your skin crawl. You could feel it in the air too, no doubt a bad omen for what was to come...

When you hesitantly pushed past the doorframe, both men’s eyes snapped to you.

The monk’s serious expression immediately morphed into a fake, polite smile. He regarded you with a little bow of his head and a casual wave.

“Leaving too, are you? Shall I escort you out, miss?”

Sukuna shot him a sharp warning glare at the daring suggestion but still turned away, dismissing his black-haired accomplice with a flick of his hand as he made his way toward the basement.

“Do as you wish, Kenjaku. You know better than to mess with what’s mine, right?” Sukuna glanced over his shoulder one last time, a dangerous grin curling on his lips, before brushing past you.

As he did, he left a breathy whisper at your ear. “Don’t concern yourself. That man knows exactly what I’m capable of.”

You watched him disappear into the basement, and with a deep breath, your gaze reluctantly shifted back to the man—whose name now eluded you—still waiting by the door.

Yanking your coat from the couch, you slipped your arms through, eager to escape—but not before one last thing.

“So, your name’s Kenjaku, then? Not Geto?” you asked, trying to mask the unease in your voice.

Kenjaku chuckled, his brows tugging at the scar on his forehead. “I have many names. Don’t worry about it.”

He gracefully opened the door, gesturing for you to step outside.

You offered him a forced laugh as thanks and quickly turned right, quickening your pace to put as much distance between you and him as possible.

But, as luck would have it, he called after you, sending a chill down your spine.

“Wait.”

You turned, and Kenjaku stood right behind you, his usual slitted eyes now sharp with a dangerous gleam, his polite smile twisted into a sly, devilish smirk.

“We need to discuss something, girl.”

---------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading, lovely people 💕 I promise Yuji and the others will be back in the next chapter. ALSO sorry for the slow updates; I'll try to pick up the pace, much like Sukuna this chapter lol 🤭

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel , @nessca153, @technicallysublimedemon,

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

[olivialau]

Giving Nanami the happy domestic life he deserves 😤😤👏

[olivialau]

Nah Im just screeching finding another Sukuna centric blog-

SORRY IM JUST CRAVING HIM!

Imma hide now-

Byeeeee

GIRL you're more than welcome here 💕 No need to apologize for craving the most beautifully crafted man in fiction ever

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch. 31

Sukuna x Reader

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

BEWARE THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT!!!

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

-----------------------------------------

CHAPTER 31 - A Foolish Human Gesture

Before you knew it, Sukuna had your lips caught in another punishing kiss, his fingers trailing slowly from your nape down to your collarbone, nails scraping across your skin and leaving red stripes that pulsed with heat long after he’d moved on to mark the next unclaimed part of you.

Whenever he finally broke away—for a rare, fleeting breath—he didn’t stray far. He dipped his head beside yours, his forehead pressing against the jagged wall behind you. He was close enough that you could feel his hot breaths fanning over your ear.

And every time he paused like that, he whispered the same thing to you—crafty variations of the same cutting sentiment.

“I loathe you, woman.”

“You’re a plague,”

“A stain on my existence,”

They were insults he ensured you couldn’t return during the brief moments you struggled to catch your breath because— just as you replenished enough oxygen to speak—he stole it away again.

He reveled in that small torment; it was undeniably amusing to him to keep you from getting a single word in.

His lips brushed past your jaw, and you could feel them curl into a smirk against your skin before he made you swallow down every cocky retort you dared to think of saying in return.

Though with this particular kiss, it seemed he had exhausted every bare patch of skin he could mark on you with his nails.

And that simply wouldn't do...

Right now, Sukuna was a conqueror possessively surveying his newly claimed lands, but forever unsatisfied and wanting more. So, with his tongue still tangled with yours, he gripped the collar of your plain black shirt. You flinched as he ripped the fabric down the middle, exposing your bra adorned with delicate lace that perfectly cupped your breasts.

In the heated friction of the kiss, the shirt’s short sleeves gradually sĺlipped down your arms until the whole thing fell to the ground. And Sukuna eagerly seized that chance to claim the newfound flesh, working his claws down the supple skin above the trim of your bra, before sinking them into your flanks.

With a particularly harsh pinch at your side, you flinched and accidentally bit down—on Sukuna's tongue.

Oh no.

He let out an angry growl and pressed down harder, causing you to yelp against his lips before he broke away. He wiped the lingering spit that dripped down the corner of his mouth and glared into your eyes for a tense heartbeat.

You knew that look all too well and expected him to throw another nasty insult at you, but instead,

he threw—you—literally, to the floor.

You hit the rough gravel with a thud, small stones digging uncomfortably into your bare back. Before you could push yourself up, he was on you again. His knees pinning you in place, caging you, and his mouth back on yours with the same hungry intensity.

Maybe it was the cold, damp ground, or the cool breeze ghosting over your stomach, or perhaps the way Sukuna’s fingers tangled in your hair with a satisfying tug...

But a chill rippled down your spine, sending goosebumps skittering across your skin.

And not just goosebumps.

Your nipples, too, perked up with the shiver, pressing insistently against the soft fabric of your bra. Yet that softness did little to muffle the jolts of tingly pleasure that shot through you each time Sukuna’s hard abs pushed into your chest, intensifying the treacherous friction.

It was so—so hot. But you had to keep a sliver of focus, at least enough to control the pull of cursed energy so it wouldn’t overwhelm you.

Fortunately, your training had been paying off; it didn’t take nearly as much effort as before. Or... perhaps ‘fortunately’ wasn’t quite the right word, as that ease allowed you to sink into the moment a little too deeply.

You pulled Sukuna’s hand from your hair and guided it down your neck all the way to the lace of your bra. You felt his jaw clench, but he eagerly accepted the invitation.

Though he didn’t particularly like being directed by a mere human—he’d overlook it... just this once.

His hand was so big it covered your entire breast, and he let no time go to waste as he squeezed down—anything but gently. It kind of hurt, actually, but you were so desperate to be touched that the pleasure drowned out all the pain.

He kneaded your breast through the fabric with such vigor that you could feel the movement of each individual finger, pressing and flexing before digging even deeper. Every squeeze rough enough to have you squirming beneath him, as soft gasps—silent pleas for more—escaped your lips, barely muffled against his mouth.

It was as if Sukuna couldn’t do gentle; everything he did was rough and overpowering. Like it was his nature to dominate, to scare away.

But on you, it seemed to have the opposite effect; It pulled you in, leaving you wanting more.

So when he pulled away from your lips out of nowhere, and his hand stopped moving, you felt incredibly deprived.

He hovered just above your mouth for a moment, crimson eyes locked onto yours, before he suddenly ducked down and tugged at the band of your bra.

When it didn’t come loose—what did he expect?—He flicked his finger and with a swift cut of his dismantle, the band snapped, and your bra fell open, leaving your boobs fully exposed, in the dim eerie light.

You barely had time to process the shock before he dipped his head, and his mouth latched onto your nipple. It was a level of intimacy you’d never expected from the King of Curses, and your cheeks flushed the most vibrant shade of pink.

At first, he just sucked, his warm mouth shielding your nipple from the chilly air with a delicious pull that made your back arch and your needy hips grind up against him. But then he stuck out the flat of his tongue, dragging it across your sensitive peak, flicking up and down...

You couldn't help but whimper.

The sound was embarrassing to say the least but it did make you realize that with his mouth finally elsewhere, you might actually get a word in before things spiraled beyond your of control.

“Sukuna, um, I’m not sure this is—ah!”

He bit down, right on target, his sharp corner teeth grazing the tender skin around your nipple. You winced, pushing a hand against his head to shove him away, but he only growled, the sound vibrating against your eager bud.

When he looked up at you, his hair a hot mess, he seemed wholly unimpressed.

“What now, brat?  Playing reluctant after you were writhing and begging for me to touch you here?” He emphasized 'here' with a sharp pinch to your nipple, forcing you to bite down on your tongue to muffle the dirty moan threatening to escape.

But when you dared to open your mouth again—you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to stop.

The truth was, when he’d pulled away, the sudden chill felt so profoundly lonely that you realized you didn’t want this to end here... not that you'd ever say that out loud.

So, a lousy excuse would have to do.

“Uh, it’s… these rocks on the ground,” you stammered. “They’re, um, digging into my skin. Kind of hurts, so—”

Before you could finish, Sukuna lifted himself up and, in one swift motion, hoisted you over his shoulder. He did it with so little effort... it was as if you weighed little more than a feather to him.

The view of his back—his flexed scapula and the smooth line between the thick bands of muscle disappearing into his waistband—was, admittedly, exquisite. But the position itself felt, well... a bit demeaning.

Suffice to say, you were not entirely pleased.

You squirmed and wriggled all the way to the door and up the stairs, protesting at every step. “Hey, put me down, Sukuna! I’m serious!”

Until—halfway up—Sukuna finally seemed to tire of your feeble protests. He let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Tsk. Fine, then.”

The arm holding you in place relaxed and dropped to his side, and your heart plummeted as you felt yourself slipping down his shoulder. The unforgiving edges of the stairs taunted you from below, and you scrambled at his back like a cat dangling from a ledge, nails digging into him as you held on for dear life.

But just as your hand slipped—and you were pretty sure you saw said life flash before your eyes—he caught you, hoisting you back into place.

You let out a sharp gasp of relief, followed by an indignant snap.

“What the hell? You nearly dropped me!”

Though you couldn’t see his face, you were absolutely sure there was a smug smirk on it when he purred over his shoulder.

“Oh? As I recall, you were the one begging me to let go. I wouldn’t have minded watching you tumble down—seems quite a fitting end for an insolent brat like you.”

But you felt that smug smirk vanish just as quickly the moment he reached the top of the stairs. His steps faltered, and a cold breeze swept over your bare back, hitting you with the chilling realization that—

Oh. Right.

The door was in splinters.

Sukuna’s grip tightened, his forearm pressing down until you could hear your ribs crackle under the pressure.

“That blue-eyed bastard did this?” His voice dropped to a lethal whisper, each word a reproachful reminder that he was far from done with Gojo... or you.

“I'll make sure you'll regret denying me the pleasure of snapping that twig in half.”

You gulped, but that was the least of your concern now; the higher priority was the fact that your boobs were on full display for everyone passing by this block to see.

“Aah, Sukuna, just move! I'm half-naked!”

Sukuna let out an irritated grunt but he did move—into his bedroom, to be exact.

He slammed the door behind him, and with a less-than-gentle motion, he threw you onto the silk sheets...

At least the soft mattress was a better place to land than the cold, rocky floor of his domain.

Straight away, Sukuna planted himself back on top of you, yanking your boots and shorts off and tossing them aside like they were a pesky nuisance.

You wanted to protest, to remind him of the unwritten rules for handling a woman gently, but when you felt his hard bulge press against the thin, damp fabric of your panties, those thoughts quickly left the room.

All that remained was the heat of the moment...

And the two of you picked up right where you left off.

His head was back between your tits, his wet tongue trailing down the curve of your skin before it swirled around your nipple. There was no discernible rhythm, no practiced technique—but that only heightened your senses, leaving you in neverending suspense.

You couldn't suppress the excited twitches nor the way your hips pressed up against him with every flick and drag of his tongue.

And Sukuna clearly enjoyed every little reaction out of you, because the corners of his mouth curled up with every moan and quiver.

He reveled in the sight of you squirming; he always had. But now, as you writhed under his eager touch and the warmth of his tongue, rather than the force of his fists and his cruel taunts—

That was a new kind of ectasy to him.

His hand slid up to grope your other breast, fingers sinking into the soft flesh before he moved over to you nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers.

Who would have known he could do stuff like that with those nasty claws and that foul mouth? It was quite unexpected, and you couldn’t help yourself from prodding, realizing you had one thing in common with Sukuna: you liked getting a reaction out of him too.

“Ah—it’s surprising that you’re so—hng!—busy with your mouth...” you managed through heavy breaths, daringly locking eyes with him.

“After you told me that kissing is a stupid gesture that only brain—nngh—less pigs bother with.”

Safe to say, Sukuna did not like that tone.

He sat up, and your gaze zeroed in on the twitch of his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. Then, he locked eyes with you and smirked in the most wicked and perilously filthy way.

“How foolish of you to remind me, you idiot woman... Shall we get to the real fun then?”

Oh god. That was not your intention.

Sukuna grabbed your hips, yanking you close against him. His fingers slid down the edge of your panties, and with a merciless tug, he ripped them away.

You clenched your thighs together in embarrassment, but it was futile; His eager hands, veins popping with anticipation, had you spread open again within seconds.

He looked at your soaking pussy—really looked—as if he were drinking in the sight, and you couldn’t recall ever feeling this self-conscious about anything. But you didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on that feeling long before the next disaster struck.

His thumb swiped away the line of drool pooling at the corner of his mouth, dripping down at the thought of ravaging your glistening cunt. Then that same thumb hooked around the band of his pants, tugging them down to finally free his aching cock from its confines.

And fuck. It was an absolute monster.

Bigger than any you’d ever seen before, and you audibly gulped. A nervous sweat broke out on your brow because there was no way that would fit—not without proper preparation.

But before you knew it, Sukuna had already lined himself up at your entrance. You could feel the throb of his tip against your folds, and suddenly, a wave of fear washed over you. Not just because of its sheer size, but because; what if history repeated itself?

What if Sukuna gave you a little more of him again, just to take it away and ignore you—abandon you?

You couldn't let that happen. There was no guarantee that this time would be any different.

Right when he bucked his hips and pushed the very head of his cock inside, you drew your legs up and kicked him off.

“Sukuna, stop!" you yelled at him. “I don’t want this if it means you’ll go back to ignoring me right after. If it means that the moment your mind catches up with your body, you’ll yank yourself away and pretend I don't exist for days on end.”

Sukuna dragged a hand over his face, fingers digging into his forehead, fuming that you dared bring this up right as he was about to ravage you. With a barely contained tremor, he released his grip on his cock, his nails moving to bite into the sheets beneath him like he was trying to anchor himself to sanity.

Not once had the King of Curses ever thought he’d pull back from fucking someone because of their feelings. Yet here he was, peering at you through the slits of his fingers, hearing you out instead of reducing you to a sobbing mess beneath him.

Your voice quivered as you shifted to sit up, finally asking the question that had been haunting you for days.

“Why... why did you do that last time? Why did you suddenly pull away and disappear?”

Sukuna let out a hiss as he let his hand drop from his face to tug his pants back into place. “I'm not apologizing for anything, brat. So abandon such ridiculous notions.”

You slammed your fists into the silk pillow, unable to hold back from raising your voice.

“I’m not asking you to apologize, am I?! I just want to know why... you hurt me, you know?” Your gaze drifted downward, not really expecting a real answer from him. If anything, you thought he’d up and leave, because he hated when you acted like this—weak and vulnerable, like a pitiful human.

So it surprised you when his shoulders tensed and his gaze... his gaze, it didn't drop—no, it burned into the sheets with an intensity that could have set them aflame.

“Tch. That kiss... I felt sick. My face burned, and my chest felt like a vice squeezing tighter with every second I was stuck at your lips.” A sound somewhere between a snarl and a laugh tore from his throat, as if his own words disgusted him more than anything.

“When I pulled back it was no better, every breath like swallowing shards of broken glass—” He cut himself off, teeth bared in a grimace that could have been mistaken for one of his cruel smiles if you hadn't spent so long studying the subtle differences.

“And then the most revolting irony struck me.”

You stole a glance at him, trying to gauge where this was going, but it was impossible—his palm was pressed against his face, as if he couldn't bear the thought of you seeing him like this. As if acknowledging your presence during this admission of weakness would be the greatest insult to his pride imaginable.

“I had become exactly like that spineless fool in the film,” His voice dropped to a low whisper.

“Just as horribly cursed. I was so disgusted, I could’ve burned a whole village to the ground right then and there—”

A film?

Wait... that romance movie you'd been watching?

Was the King of Curses actually admitting that he felt like some lovesick male lead? No. This had to be some kind of fever dream. You pinched yourself, but the sharp sting confirmed that this was all too real.

Your mouth opened and closed many times before you finally managed to find your voice.

“So... why did you ignore me then? After?” The question came out softer than intended, and you immediately cursed yourself for sounding so hurt.

Sukuna took that opportunity to finally lower his hand, and revert to his usual—scary—self. You made it so easy for him with your utterly stupid questions and your quivering voice.

“Use that pathetic excuse for a brain, woman,” he spat.

“I am the King of Curses. Did you really think I’d welcome such revolting feelings?”

With a low growl, he raked a hand through his hair, irritation flexing his shoulders as his gaze shifted to the side. “I'll admit, avoiding you proved… ineffective.”

“If anything, it only made you fester in my mind more persistently,” he hissed through the gaps of his clenched teeth.

You were speechless, staring blankly ahead. This was everything you'd wanted to hear, yet hearing it left you completely shook...

And in your daze, you missed the way his gaze drifted back to you, tracking slowly and intently over every curve of your body. It was only when his signature smirk returned to his lips that your eyes refocused, catching his hungry stare.

“Perhaps... if you're going to plague my existence either way—” he was back on top of you in an instant, his massive body casting a shadow that swallowed your tiny frame whole.

“—I might as well go back to doing what I do best: taking what I want, when I want,”

His weight sank you deeper into the bed, and a shiver ran over you as he caught your hands and pinned them against the pillow. The calloused pads of his fingers traced your wrist until he found your pulse point, pressing firmly against it to relish the frantic beat of your heart beneath him.

He let out a raspy chuckle, nudging your knee with his own as he whispered against your ear with a taunting breath.

“Now, spread your legs.”

God, this was dangerous.

Yes, he was Sukuna—the King of Curses, the embodiment of evil—and yes, every survival instinct screamed at you to get away. But there was something maddeningly irresistible about the way he wanted you, of all things.

Besides, weren’t you technically forced to obey his commands? Or was that just the dumb excuse you’d tell yourself to justify your desire?

Slowly, you nudged your knees apart, but with each inch, uncertainty crept in.

If you gave yourself to Sukuna completely, only for him to discard you afterward, could you recover from it? Or would you be left shattered, in undignified pieces for falling into his trap so easily?

Caution fought against the rising heat between your legs until it finally won over your rationale; You couldn't go through with this.

You squirmed beneath his body, trying to break free and get away. But he was so massive; it was like trying to move a mountain with your bare hands.

“Fuck, get off!”

Increasingly agitated at your feeble attempts, Sukuna's eyes burned with anger, but weirdly enough his smile only seemed to widen, revealing more and more of the white of his teeth.

Finally, when you managed to wrench one hand free, he slid his body up, pinning your arm down with his knee—and his entire weight above it.

He hovered just over your chest and his free hand tangled in your hair, yanking your face toward his crotch, inches away from the thick bulge in his pants.

“After riling me up like that, you'd better fix this, woman. I don't care how you do it. But you will do it.”

Ugh, he really wouldn’t let this go, would he? And to be fair, being so close to his cock—literally feeling the heat radiating off it—you had to admit you’d been aching to know what it felt like.

So... maybe there was a compromise here.

You looked away, half in disbelief that you were letting yourself get involved with the most dangerous being you’d ever met in such a way. But—

“Okay, I’ll… take care of it. So will you get off me?” You mumbled barely audible.

You glared up at him with a sharp warning in your eyes. “But no sex, Sukuna. I swear to god, if you put that monster anywhere near my thighs, I’ll kill you.”

He let out a grating cackle and finally released you, inching backward and lifting his weight off your arms.

“Kill me, hm? I’d like to see you try, little sorcerer.”

You pushed yourself up across from him, and rubbed your thumb over the bruises forming on your arms. “Im not kidding.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and casually leaned back, legs spread, his gaze urging you to fulfill your promise to take care of it—

of him.

But a wave of nerves hit when you realized that to 'take care of him,' you would actually have to touch him—there—on your own initiative.

It was terrifying, so nerve-wracking that your heart raced with enough force to make your hand bob with each beat as you slowly reached out.

At least Sukuna's attention was drawn to your nervous shakes instead of your eyes—if those judging slits had landed on your face, you probably would have died of embarrassment.

With a final push of courage, you leaned forward and grabbed his cock through the thick of his pants. He flinched ever so slightly as you began to slowly move your hand up and down, testing the waters.

Every swipe up emphasized just how impressive his size was; his length seemed to go on forever.

But with every stroke down, you couldn’t shake the overwhelming realization that you were jerking off the fucking King of Curses.

Sukuna’s gaze was locked on the movement of your hand, never straying, which allowed you the chance to sneak a quick peek at him. But the sight was thoroughly disappointing; his expression was as unbothered as always.

If anything, he looked bored.

And lo and behold, right at that moment, he let out a weary grunt and swatted your hand away—not harshly, but enough to leave you confused and a bit stung.

“What?” you asked, trying your best to hide behind your lashes. But he ignored you, too busy fumbling with his pants.

And before you knew it... his thick cock sprang free, slamming against his stomach with a loud thwack.

“Here,” he growled, grabbing your hand and wrapping it around his length, his palm completely enveloping yours. He squeezed tight, almost painfully so, muttering under his breath with an air of irritation.

“Don’t be so gentle; it’s grating on my nerves,” he said, retracting his hand and tilting your chin upward with a hooked finger.

“Have you looked at it properly? It won’t break, you coward.”

He casually leaned back on his hands, his cock twitching, urging you to continue.

God. He was such an arrogant dick. But lucky for him, you’d never shied away from a challenge... in fact, it lit a small fire within you.

With a firm grip, you began to move; your fingers gliding along his length as you familiarized yourself with every ridge and vein. Experimenting at the top, where you paused to rub your thumb in slow circles around the flushed pink head.

You didn’t dare pause for long, though; because the impatient throb of his cock and the even more impatient quirk of his mouth told you that you were moving far too slowly for his liking.

So, you picked up the pace, pumping up and down his shaft, finally managing to coax a few drops of precum from the tip, which made it easier to slide your hand along.

But with this speed and pressure came an impossible test of endurance.

After a few minutes, the muscles in your arm began to ache. You shifted the angle of your wrist, trying to find some comfort, but nothing felt right anymore, and you were panting from the effort.

Ugh, this was awful. Shouldn’t he be the one huffing and puffing?

You looked up at him, forcibly unfurrowing your brows to mask your frustration.

And there he was, staring at your efforts with barely any enthusiasm, that cold, agitated look in his eyes, the prominent vein on his forehead nearly threatening to burst.

When he let out a heavy, exaggerated sigh, you snapped.

You stopped your hand dead in its tracks, glaring at him with such intensity that he had no choice but to meet your gaze.

“Can you at least pretend it feels good?”

Sukuna arched a brow at your bratty tone and the sudden cessation of your efforts, but then let out another sigh—or maybe more of a grunt—as he broke away from your stare.

“I knew this was ridiculous. How's a measly hand supposed to satisfy me? How can you pigs be content with this?”

The nerve—you were about to snap at him again, but your words caught when he suddenly shifted, flipping you onto your side. The bed creaked as he let his weight drop into the mattress behind you, his rock-hard abs pressing into your back.

You felt his throbbing cock nestle between the cheeks of your ass while his fingers trailed up your leg until they landed on your hips and sank into the tender flesh.

“Hey! What are you—” You yelped at the sudden advance, but Sukuna wouldn’t hear you out, not this time.

“Ah, shut up, brat. I’m not putting it—” with a forceful thrust of his hips, he nudged his cock between your thighs, “in.”

It was hot and pulsing—and with that one buckle he'd miraculously managed to brush his thick head against your clit in a way that made your whole body jolt.

It didn’t stop there...

His hips began to rock at a restless pace—no 'easing into it', no. Just a domineering, impatient rhythm that picked up with each thrust as he fucked your thighs.

Not a shred of regard for the fact that you were still trying to catch your breath from jerking him off.

But you couldn't protest because—with each merciless slam of his hips against your ass, his cock slid over your soaked folds, grazing that same spot again and again, sending waves of pleasure through you.

Before you knew it, you were clenching your legs together. The juices that leaked from your cunt working as the perfect lubricant for his cock, coating your thighs as the room filled with wet, lewd squelches.

His hand slid up to your breast, fingers digging in with an eagerness that would no doubt leave a nasty bruise. And if that, somehow, wasn’t enough to leave a mark, then Sukuna made sure that the sharp edges of his nails left etchings in your flesh.

It stung so deliciously that a cry escaped your lips before you could stop it.

But one little cry wouldn't do it. Not for Sukuna.

He hooked his knee over your leg, pulling you closer, squashing your cheeks against his pelvis and ensuring your thighs squeezed him all the way to the base.

“Sukuna… ah… not so rough,” you managed to mewl through heavy breaths as your folds grew puffy and sore from the friction.

With a half-assed effort you even tried to push his knee away for a moment of reprieve. But his grip was unyielding, keeping you pinned against him as he continued his brutal pace.

“Hm, brat’s giving orders now?” His voice rasped against your ear, dark and husky.

“This is punishment—for promising to 'take care of it' and failing so miserably.”

You wanted to snap back, but any attempt at a retort dissolved into helpless whimpers and gasps, your mind dizzy from the overwhelming sensation of every ridge and vein of his cock sliding past the sensitive endings of your nerves. 

You couldn’t explain in words how grateful you were to yourself for standing your ground on the no-sex thing.

Sukuna was like a feral beast, driven purely by instinct—topped off with limitless endurance and that ridiculous strength he felt no guilt unleashing upon you as he pounded into your thighs again... and again... and again.

And let’s not even get started on the size of that weapon... If it had been your pussy instead of your legs, he would have utterly destroyed you.

Sukuna's voice pulled you from your haze, as you struggled to focus on anything other than the electrifying heat and pressure building low in your stomach.

“You’re trembling,” he hissed between thrusts.

“Control your cursed energy, fool. Was all that effort training you a waste of my time?” He nudged his head against your ear, whispering so close that the hairs stood up at the back of your neck and your pussy throbbed.

“Or will you show me some competence for once?”

For him you'd try to focus—to concentrate on the flow of energy. Even now, you wanted to prove yourself; maybe more than ever, you wanted his praise. But the two of you seemed intertwined into an indistinguishable mess of energy.

It was impossible to untangle, and so you could only pray he’d finish before you fainted from the intensity.

“I... I can’t,” you murmured, voice muffled into your own arm.“It’s too much,”

At that point you gave up—surrendering to the pleasure even if Sukuna groaned against your neck, clearly irritated by your human fragility.

But something kept him from dragging this out and pushing you over your limit—he wanted you conscious to witness how thoroughly he'd mark you. To make you understand the consequences of infiltrating his thoughts, of making the strongest being in existence dependant on a mere mortal.

He bared his teeth and flipped you over to your stomach, his movements growing more erratic as he rutted against your thighs and clawed at your ass.

This new angle brought a whole new bliss and you were damn near losing your mind now... The walls of your cunt clenching together, aching to be filled, the heat in your stomach spreading to your whole body until even the tips of your ears burned up.

Instinctively, you arched your back, pressing into Sukuna's hips.

And that was when his own groans broke loose, low and raspy, louder with each thrust—sounds that were more animal than human. His pace picked up, even when you hadn't thought it possible.

Your face pushing deeper into the pillow with each plunge between your legs, muffling the desperate, shameful sounds you couldn't possibly suppress.

It burned when the sensitive flesh of your thighs and ass began to glow a deep red from the repeated impact.

And you could feel his cock pulse, on the verge of bursting as he bent over you, pressing your body into the mattress and yanking your head back so he could see your face, a moaning, drooling mess.

“Now this,” he rasped, leaning down to capture your expression as he drove his dick so deep between your thighs that his balls slapped against them.

“Is a foolish human gesture, I can see the appeal of.”

With another harsh roll of his hips, he let your head fall back into the pillow, dragging his tongue along the curve of your neck, savoring the taste of your sweat-slicked skin.

It was those words, followed by the feel of his wet tongue lapping at your neck—the head of his cock, drenched in your juices, swiping past your clit once more—

that pushed you to your orgasm.

“Hng.. Fuck,”

Your whole body tightened up as the heat in your stomach rolled into shockwaves of pleasure, your world narrowing in to the muffled sounds of your own moans and the rhythmic spasms of your cunt, your fingernails digging into the sheets.

Sukuna could feel your legs lock around him even tighter as you came undone, your thighs twitching when he overstimulated your clit, showing no mercy as he kept his pace steady.

Your needy little cries into the pillow—the pillow that was no doubt as soaked as your pussy, just with tears and spit—were the most enticing sounds he’d ever heard.

His hot breath hovered at your ear, every rough exhale fanning over your skin when his groans grew louder, gradually shifting into uncontrolled grunts at shorter intervals.

Until his hips jerked a final time, slamming into your flesh as a deep, guttural sound tore from his throat. His cock twitched and hot ropes of cum spilled over the inside of your legs, reaching all the way to your stomach.

With a few extra thrusts Sukuna made sure to spread it all around, properly coating you in his mess before finally pulling away.

He traced a finger along your thigh and smirked at the sight he’d left behind.

“I keep discovering more things you’re good for, brat. Pestering, cooking, fucki—brat?”

He nudged your legs, which had already crumpled onto the mattress, but you were barely conscious, his words fading into scattered syllables after the overwhelming rush of his cursed energy and the most mind-blowing orgasm you’d ever had.

You were so out of it you might have heard your own snore set it—or maybe that was just Sukuna’s disappointed growl as he realized your body had gone limp.

Whatever it was, you were too drained to care.

Sorry, Sukuna. Just a little nap…

---------------------------------------------------------

THANKYOU for reading bby's <3 Hope I fed y'all well this chapter 🥺

Also wanted to clarify that the gaps between chapters are a lil longer because, well, the chapters are twice as long lol. So I hope I'm forgiven 🙏

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel , @nessca153

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch.30

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 30 - The Opposite of Power is ....

Sukuna didn’t return for the entire night after the make-out incident. And when he finally did—just as the first light of dawn crept through the windows—he didn’t so much as glance your way before locking himself in his room.

The days that followed were no better.

You spent hours trying to figure out what the hell had happened, replaying every second in your head over and over. Why did he pull away like that? Why the sudden turnaround? Had you done something wrong?

But no matter how much you thought it over, you always came back to the same conclusion: he must’ve hated how it felt.

Hated how you felt.

A part of you was pissed—seriously, how dare he treat you like that after he was the one who initiated the kiss? But another part just felt hollow. It was strangely similar to having a gaping hole in your stomach, a feeling you’d grown quite familiar with... in a literal sense.

Whatever strange connection the two of you had formed over the past weeks—the late-night dinners, the training sessions, even those tense, shared glances—it had all disappeared. He acted like you didn’t exist, like you weren’t even worth the effort of a cruel remark.

The only trace of Sukuna these days was the sound of the door opening and closing, and the brief glimpse of his back as he walked away.

There were moments when you considered reaching for that back, tugging at his robe, demanding answers. But every time, your feet turned to lead, and the words died in your throat. After all, you were the one who told him to forget it ever happened.

Still, it didn’t feel entirely fair. He hadn’t just forgotten about it—he’d forgotten about you.

And as much as that rubbed you the wrong way, you couldn’t help but hope that, in time, this would all fade like a nasty but temporary bruise. Maybe one day, the silence would pass and everything would slip back into that strange, dysfunctional normal you’d grown used to.

Though today was clearly not that day.

This morning, Sukuna had disappeared yet again, slipping into the basement like a ghost. It was baffling how someone so big could move so silently, just to avoid you.

With only two days left until he’d promised to reconsider your return to Jujutsu High, you held onto the slim hope that he wouldn’t be so cruel as to bail on that promise. So, you threw yourself into training, determined to prove to Sukuna that you could handle any enemy that came your way—any curse, any hitman.

Sukuna, unsurprisingly, hadn’t initiated any more training sessions. So you got creative and turned to your cursed dagger—the one you were sure had been lost in the fight with Toji. Yet, somehow, it had mysteriously reappeared in the side pocket of your bag.

If nothing else, that fight had taught you one valuable thing: your technique worked on any type of cursed energy, including cursed tools. So now, you spent hours training with the dagger, perfecting the art of siphoning energy from the blade.

In that process, you had another epiphany: not only could you draw cursed energy from the dagger, but you’d learned to push your own energy into it, amplifying the curse within. It was a dangerous trick—draining your own energy in exchange for a stronger weapon. But one that would give you many more options when fighting.

Your first instinct had been to tell Sukuna, to gloat about your discovery in return for a slight raise of his brow and the faintest flicker of approval in his eyes.

But you couldn’t.

You couldn’t share it with Yuji and the others either. So, your little victory became a lonely one—no cheers, no praise. Just you, sitting there with your stupidly powerful blade and no one to tell.

Today, you were practicing again, fumbling with the dagger in your hand as you pushed and pulled the flow of cursed energy. The line between too little and too much was paper-thin, and you’d faced an embarrassingly high number of times where you discovered that pushing too hard would lead you to faint.

You tightened your grip on the hilt, closed your eyes, and started to slowly release your energy into the blade.

At first, all you felt was that familiar lightheadedness—easy enough to ignore.

But as the minutes passed, the sweat began to bead on your palms, and your legs felt like they were losing their strength. You should have heeded the warning signs when your vision blurred and the color drained from your face, yet stubbornly, you pushed on.

All you could think about was getting stronger—strong enough that Sukuna would have no choice but to allow your return to Jujutsu High.

So you convinced yourself that you could handle more. Just a little more. You could push it just a bit further, right?

Wrong.

Dark shadows crept over your vision, and before you could reach the couch, your legs gave out beneath you. You crumpled to the floor, the dagger slipping from your grasp as the world faded into an all-consuming black.

---------------------------------------------------------

The first thing you registered as the blood slowly returned to your head was the soft, hollow sound of gentle knocking against a hard surface. At first, it was calm and rhythmic, almost soothing enough to lull you right back to sleep. But then the pace picked up, turning into an erratic thudding that jolted you upright.

Adrenaline kicked in as you tried to orient yourself. Though you didn’t have to search long for the source; the noise was coming from the front door of the apartment, straight ahead of you.

Instinctively, you reached for the dagger on the floor, gripping it tight as you pushed yourself up on still shaky legs.

You cocked your head, inching closer to the door. Who in their right mind would be knocking on Sukuna’s door? It had to be some poor soul who’d made a mistake—a confused deliveryman or a lost tourist looking for directions.

Maybe it was best to alert Sukuna about this, but... no—you couldn’t.

He had explicitly told you to never barge into his domain without his permission, and you had no doubt that facing his wrath would be worse than whatever threat lurked behind that door.

You wrapped your hand around the knob, but an uneasy feeling crept over you as the knocks grew heavier, vibrating through the tips of your finger.

Second-guessing your initial instincts, you pulled back.

What if it was the next hitman sent by the higher-ups to finish you off? Or maybe one of Sukuna's crazy accomplices—what was that patch-faced creep's name again? Mahito?

Yeah, you definitely didn’t want to deal with any of that.

Just as you turned your back to the door, content with your decision to ignore the chaotic banging and return to your training, a deafening crash erupted behind you. Splintered wood flew past your ear, and a rush of cold air hit your back.

Oh no.

You turned in a flash, pointing the dagger at the entrance with both hands clenched around the hilt.

And to your surprise, a very familiar figure stood before you, casually wiping the dusty remnants of the kicked-in door from his clothes.

“Whoa there, easy now! Not exactly polite to aim that beauty of a dagger at the generous soul who gifted it to you, right?”

Your eyes traced up over the tall man in the doorway. Long legs, blue-tinted sunglasses covering his even bluer eyes, and locks of white hair springing in all directions.

Gojo.

Wait what—Gojo?

No, no, no. This was bad. Not just because you could barely look him in the eye after ghosting his calls and messages for two weeks, basically pretending you’d dropped off the face of the earth.

But mainly because Sukuna was only one floor below you.

You didn’t even want to imagine the calamity that would unfold if those two ran into each other.

“Ah! Uhm... Gojo-sensei, let’s talk this over outside, alright?” you stammered, hastily tucking the dagger back into your boot before attempting to push against his chest and nudge him out the door.

But Gojo didn’t budge. That man was like an immovable rock with his Infinity activated.

He patted you on the head before he effortlessly brushed you aside, stepping deeper into the lion's den.

“Whaaat? You’re not even gonna give me the grand tour? That’s no way to treat a guest, you know,” he teased, his smirk as irritating as it was charming.

He tossed his sunglasses onto the kitchen counter and began nosing around, peering into every nook and cranny like he was conducting some sort of inspection.

“Besides, I really need to use the bathroom... Long ride,” he added, throwing a glance over his shoulder while snagging the apple you’d left on the counter and sinking his teeth into it with an obnoxiously loud crunch.

Meanwhile, you backed into the corner of the room—the one that led down to the basement.

You planted yourself there, arms wide at your sides, as if your small frame could somehow block Gojo’s prying eyes from the stairway.

Gojo raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your attempt. His eyes drifted over your shoulder, narrowing as he took another bite. “What’s down there? You seem awfully eager to hide it.”

Argh. Why did he always see right through you with those annoying blue orbs?

You forced a laugh, waving your hand in a poor attempt at nonchalance as you hurriedly guided him toward the bathroom. “Ah, it’s… where I keep my valuables, like... this dagger!” You pulled it from your boot and held it up in the air.

“No reason to carry this around now, so I’ll just go put it away. You can use the bathroom in the meantime, and I’ll be right back!”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying your story, but for whatever reason, he humored you and disappeared into the bathroom.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you bolted down the stairs, your heart thumping in your throat.

Okay, game face on. You had minutes to prevent an absolute catastrophe.

Taking a deep breath, you pressed down on the handle and eased the door open just enough to slip through.

You stepped inside with your eyes squeezed shut, too afraid to look. With no time to waste and desperate to stave off Sukuna’s wrath, you spoke first.

“Before you say anything—I’m terribly sorry! I know you said never to come down here unannounced, but I need to ask you something—something important.”

Hesitantly, you cracked one eye open and scanned the dark, foggy space until you finally found him.

Sukuna.

Perched atop his throne of skulls.

You couldn’t see his expression from afar, but the faint ripple in the muddy puddles and the tiny loose rocks falling from the ceiling with each shudder of his aura told you everything: he was not amused.

“Your next words better be worth it, or they’ll be your last.”

Sukuna's raspy voice rang out through the domain, and despite the obvious threat in his words, you felt incredibly...

relieved.

You had to be losing it.

Standing there, facing what was sure to be a severe punishment, all that mattered to you was the bliss of sweet relief—because after days of silence, Sukuna had finally acknowledged your existence again.

You had to admit, part of that easy comfort came from knowing you’d gladly take any punishment over the thought of Gojo and Sukuna meeting.

And the fact that such a punishment was a near-inevitable fate you'd already made peace with, considering the ridiculous excuse about to spill from your mouth.

You blamed the lack of time.

“Okay, so, um… this is going to sound stupid,” you began, scratching your cheek.

“But I’m in the middle of a really good movie upstairs, and I really don’t want to be interrupted during the climax, y’know? So… would it be okay if you stayed down here for another half hour?"

There was a moment of tense silence as the tremors of his domain grew more violent, causing larger rocks to crumble from the walls and ceiling.

You raised your arms to shield yourself from the falling debris, but just as you did, Sukuna was suddenly no longer atop his throne.

Instead, he was inches from your face, his hands braced against the door on either side of your head. His blood-red eyes locked onto yours—obvious rage pulling the corner of his mouth into a sneer.

“You’re lying,” he hissed. “You’re foolish, but not foolish enough to barge in here with such a pathetic excuse. So tell me the truth now.”

Ugh. You felt a migraine creep in. Why was it never easy with him?

“Sukuna, it’s just—just give me half an hour up there, okay? I’ll never ask you for anything again. Just this one thing, plea—”

You barely saw it coming when his hand lashed out and struck your face. It left a sharp, painful sting that felt twice as biting because you’d never expected it.

Over the past weeks, Sukuna had been so lenient with you that you’d forgotten this side of him, that you'd slipped into a false sense of security. But this was a nasty reminder of how ruthless he could be, of the way in which he shamelessly wielded his power as long as that got him what he wanted.

And what he wanted right now was an answer.

“Tell me the truth. That’s an order,” he demanded, while his nails slid down the door, leaving deep etchings in the wood.

Your own hand went up to wipe over the red imprint on your cheek, gently, as if that could somehow soothe both the pain and the shock. You turned your gaze away from him, unable to look him in the eye after what he just did.

But Sukuna wasn’t having that.

He grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes back to his, his expression utterly devoid of any humanity you thought you’d seen in him before.

"Now."

Your jaw clenched. You knew you had to obey; the binding vow was still very much in place. You were shackled.

“It’s... it’s Gojo,” you whispered through gritted teeth. “I don’t know why he’s here or how he found this place. But please, just let me handle this. I don’t want the two of you to fight. I don’t want either of you to—”

Before you could finish, Sukuna shoved you away.

You stumbled backward, landing in a puddle of murky water. Your hands scraped against the rocky surface, and the tiny pieces of gravel nicked your skin.

The air shifted, and Sukuna's anger morphed into something far more unnerving—an excitement, an aliveness unlike anything you'd ever seen in him. Like he was completely unreachable, consumed by a lust—no, a need—for battle.

But you couldn’t help but make one last attempt as he reached for the door. Your hand shot out, tugging at the hem of his robe.

“Sukuna, don’t,” you said, your voice trembling.

“I’ll hate you forever if you go up there.”

The corners of Sukuna’s mouth, that were lifted in a twisted grin, fell as he glanced at your hand clutching his robe.

You couldn’t decipher the emotion in his eyes—was it anger, disgust, or a fleeting moment of contemplation? Whatever it was, it pierced through you like a blade...

“Why should I give a damn? You already despise me, don’t you?” he spat, as if the words left a nasty taste in his mouth.

“I'm the King of Curses, the one who ruined your measly life—the one who forced that vow upon you. The very force that just struck you in the face.”

He tilted your head to the side, inspecting the remnants of his slap as he dragged his thumb along the bruise, eliciting a wince from you.

“So enlighten me little sorcerer, why should I care?”

For some reason, your anger boiled over. He was right, and it infuriated you.

Why should he care?

You smacked his hand away and pushed yourself up. “I don’t fucking know, okay? I do hate you! I do! But I also don’t want you to die! Gojo will kill you—you don’t understand how strong he is.”

Sukuna’s hand twitched at your words, and before you could regain your balance, he thrust you against the wall with brutal force. His massive hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing it tight and nearly cutting off your air supply.

“Tch. You insult me. Have you learned nothing? I’ve been far too lenient if you think that man could so much as lay a finger on me. You might be the most worthless, stupid insect I’ve come across in my entire existence.”

You glared at him, coughing as his grip tightened. How could he say that after everything? After he kissed you? How could he be so hateful, so cruel?

Something inside you snapped, and you reached for the dagger at your heel—the one you’d infused with all your stupid cursed energy, a feat you were so proud of, that the one person you’d wanted to show it off to, was this insufferable man.

Well, you'd show it off, all right.

You swung the weapon at him, but his speed far outmatched yours. He caught the dagger with his bare hand, halting its path mere inches from his face before letting out a grating chuckle.

"I've told you before, that little toy can’t cut me."

You returned his chuckle, a smirk dancing on your lips.

Sukuna's brow furrowed in confusion as his eyes traced over you, trying to decipher the meaning behind your reckless chuckle and easy smirk—until they landed on your hand and, coincidentally, his own, where a trickle of blood now seeped down his arm.

His eyes widened slightly, and he stepped back, releasing the dagger as he stared at the deep cut in his palm.

"Hah," he breathed, a low, dark 'hah' that bounced off the rocky formations.

He turned his back to you without a worry, as if he knew you wouldn’t strike again. And with a few more strides in the other direction—the dark puddles of water splashing up with every stomp of his sandals—he came to a halt.

There was a moment of silence before he erupted into a wild, unrestrained kind of cackling.

You stood there—confused—as you moved to block the door, blade still pointed at him, ready to swing if he attempted to breach it.

But he didn’t charge at you.

Instead, he was back atop the pile of skulls, observing the blood that trickled down his arm with morbid fascination as it slowly stained the sleeve of his robe.

His eyes met yours for just a second as he muttered,

“Thirty minutes. If that blue-eyed parasite isn’t out of here by then, I’ll crush him.”

Was he serious right now? Maybe he was...

He showed no intention of barging upstairs, too absorbed with the cut on his hand while the occasional snicker escaped his lips.

What a madman.

But you couldn't complain, because at least it seemed this disaster was momentarily averted.

With your back to the door, you slipped out, keeping a wary eye on Sukuna in case he pulled any last-minute tricks—but he didn’t.

So, with that minor miracle in the pocket, you bolted up the stairs, chest heaving and nerves frayed, only to find Gojo casually sprawled across the couch with a lazy grin on his face.

“Phew. You took your sweet time,” he said, sitting up and crossing one leg over the other.

You wiped the stress-sweat from your forehead and quietly planted yourself down next to him, your gaze dropping to your legs as guilt washed over you—guilt for making him and the others worry these past few weeks, guilt for hiding so many things from them.

Things that, of course, Gojo noticed right away.

The mud smeared across your legs and the dark gravel stuck under your fingernails. Before you could pull away, he'd snatched one of your hands from your lap, opening your palm to reveal it covered in little scratches.

He lightly traced his finger over them and asked. "What’s that? I’m pretty sure that wasn’t there just now."

There was a hint of concern in his voice, a seriousness so unbefitting of him that it always made you uncomfortable when he acted that way. You gently nudged your hand back, flipping it over to hide the marks. “It’s nothing, Gojo-sensei. Honestly, don’t worry about it.”

Finally, you forced yourself to look up, meeting his gaze.

“I just... wanted to apologize for making everyone worry.”

Gojo let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. “You never give me a straight answer, do you? Honestly, you’re the most difficult student I’ve ever had to deal with.”

But then his expression softened, his feigned annoyance giving way to something more sincere as he flashed an empathetic smile. “But I guess you’re just a victim under these circumstances... so you are hereby forgiven by the great Satoru Gojo.”

You managed a small, fake smile.

Of course, you were glad he'd forgiven you so easily, but the word 'victim' didn’t sit well with you. With the feelings you’d started developing toward Sukuna, you felt more like a willing accomplice. You wanted this—well, at least part of it—the part that didn’t involve killing innocent people.

But it wasn’t something you could ever admit to Gojo, or anyone at Jujutsu High for that matter. They wouldn’t understand. They’d see you as a horrible person, and honestly? Maybe they’d be right to.

Seeing the conflicted look in your eyes, Gojo’s gaze drifted off; he wasn’t good at this whole comforting thing.

By chance, his eyes landed on your ankle, where you’d tucked the knife away, oblivious to the fact that Sukuna's blood on the blade had stained your boot.

“I’m glad to see my gift is coming in handy, at least,” Gojo remarked, tapping his foot against the soft contour of your blade through the leather.

You finally let out a genuine chuckle. “Haha, yes, thank you for that.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence as your mind cleared, and you wondered,

“How did you even manage to find me here?”

Gojo now looked a bit guilty himself as he pushed his legs apart and planted his elbows on his knees. “Ah, that. Well, I might’ve let Ijichi drive around the entire city for the past two weeks looking for you... Poor man had bags under his eyes the size of Panda's.”

You’d never met Panda, but you got the gist of it.

You sighed at the mental image of poor Ijichi working like a slave. “Well, please apologize to him on my behalf, too,”

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you tell him yourself? You’re not planning to stay holed up in here forever, are you?”

You shrugged, glancing away. “Ah, well, that’s certainly not the plan, but let’s just say it’s a work in progress.”

At that, Gojo seemed satisfied enough, because he got up from the couch and stretched, surprising you once again with his impressive height.

He reached out a hand to help you up, his grin turning playful. “Well, if you’re not back at Jujutsu High by the end of next week, I’m afraid I’ll have to come over and drag you back myself. So make it work, will you? Your poor classmates ask about you every day.”

You nodded with a reassuring smile, though a hint of sadness tugged at you at the thought of having put your friends through that.

“Okay, then I’ll be off now! Just wanted to check in.” Gojo said, snagging his sunglasses from the counter. He gave you a confident wave goodbye as he stepped into the loose doorframe—where a door used to be—before he kicked it in.

“Heh. Yeah... Sorry about that. I’ll see you next week, kiddo!” were his last words before he bolted out of there like a high schooler caught vandalizing.

And that is where the brief peace ended.

As you made your way down to the basement to alert Sukuna that Gojo had left, the stairs seemed to creak more than usual, almost as if they were screaming at you not to go. It felt strange, and a bad feeling settled in your gut... but you ignored it—you weren’t superstitious, after all.

You reached out and knocked softly on the basement door.

No answer.

You knocked again, harder this time. Still nothing. On the third try, your patience wore thin, and you nudged the door open to a crack.

And suddenly, that bad premonition made a whole lot more sense.

Sukuna's domain was wrecked.

His throne of skulls had been shattered, leaving only splintered horns, fractured craniums and loose teeth strewn across the gravel floor.

Cracks zigzagged through the rock formations on the walls, while torn pieces of Sukuna's robe fluttered in the air, caught by the howling draught.

The air reeked of smoke and scorched earth, and a hint of the metallic tang of blood.

It was absolute chaos.

At the far end of the domain, Sukuna stood with his back to you, his broad shoulders, and bare skin glistening with drops of sweat. Dried blood from where you’d cut him streaked down his arm, and in his hand, he clutched a thick piece of rock, his grip so tight that his knuckles turned white.

You hesitated, unsure of whether to approach. This destruction was obviously his doing, and he was already acting a bit, well—unhinged, when you left him here.

He didn't move. He didn’t talk.

And for Sukuna—always so quick to throw an insult at you, or a punch—that was a warning sign in itself.

So you were extra careful when you gently prodded. "Uhm, Sukuna? I just wanted to let you know that Gojo's gone now so..."

His shoulders twitched, relaxing just a fraction, but he didn’t turn around.

“Sukuna?” You tried again, taking a step into his domain. “Are you alri—”

“Brat,” he interrupted, his voice devoid of its usual venom. It was flat and unnervingly calm. Which made no sense, considering the rampage of this place.

“Tell me, do you understand what strength—no, what true power is?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. “Uh… they say knowledge is power, right? So… maybe a having a good brain on your shoulders?”

Sukuna let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Hah! What a stupid human thing to say. The answer's obvious—it's freedom.”

He turned then, his eyes finally meeting yours across the chaos of his ruined domain.

“It’s freedom. Power is freedom. The ability to act on nothing but your own desires, the ability to slaughter or spare on nothing but a whim, to bow to no one.” he said it with full conviction, like it was the one thing he was absolutely certain of.

You tried to keep up, though his sudden philosophizing was odd. “Okay so… where are you going with thi—”

But he cut in again. He always did.

“Now tell me... What is the opposite of freedom?”

You sighed, scratching the back of your head. It was rare for Sukuna to speak this much, and even rarer for him to get poetic like this.

Was this the grand speech leading up to your death?

You really hoped not, and so you tried a small jab to lighten the mood, to get back to your usual way of doing things—bickering.

“Is it captivity? Kinda like how you keep me stuck here, in this hellhole?”

He didn't bite. He just continued speaking in the same flat tone, though his fingers betrayed him, tightening slightly around the rock in his hand.

“Wrong again, fool... It's dependence.”

The sharp crack of stone made you jolt, as the remnants of the rock fell from his grasp, splashing into a nearby puddle before settling at the bottom.

“The instant you start needing another's existence, you're nothing but a chained dog—nothing but a slave,”

You swallowed hard. After days of silence, days of ignoring your very existence, this sudden monologue felt a bit... unnerving.

Sukuna took a step in your direction.

“The instant you allow yourself to care for anything beyond your own desires—" For the first time since you'd entered the room, his face contorted into a sneer of utter disgust. "—you relinquish your power.”

The air shifted along with his expression, and instinctively, your hand drifted toward the door handle, yearning to escape the storm that was about to erupt.

“Don’t.”

Sukuna's command was so soft you barely heard it, yet you felt it viscerally. Perhaps it was just a fragment of your imagination or a side effect of the vow, but you found yourself letting go of the handle.

“Come here.” He gestured for you to approach, his finger beckoning like a serpent.

With great reluctance, you forced one foot in front of the other, trudging through the scattered debris. You hated this. Hated how powerless you felt approaching him, uncertain of what awaited you.

But you also loved this, loved the tension, the thrill, the way his proximity set your heart racing with every step.

When you were close enough, Sukuna’s hand shot out, seizing your arm and yanking you toward the wall.

He didn’t pin you there; he let go, yet the overwhelming pressure of his cursed energy felt like an anchor, holding you in place.

Sukuna stepped closer, so close that you felt his breath against your skin. His voice dropped to a low whisper, rough and scraping as if he had to force the words out of his throat.

“You... you're like a disease I can't burn out. Every time I try to carve you from my thoughts, there you are. Festering.”

He positioned his hands against the wall on either side of your head, much like he he'd done before. So why did you feel so much more trapped this time?

“I've always acted on pure instinct, pure impulse, and yet… you’ve made me—” he paused, spitting out the word in utter disgust, “—dependent.”

His eyes pierced yours, glowing a furious red like a raging fire—so intense that you could swear you felt your own eyes burning.

“Every second I let you continue breathing, every time I hesitate on your behalf…” His gaze held yours. “I feel my strength rotting away.”

His fingers curled around a loose piece of rock on the wall, and you could hear it crackle under the pressure. “And it sickens me that a mere, weak human like you could make the core of my essence—” His grip tightened, pulverizing the rock into dust.

“Shatter.”

He let out a low, defeated snicker, his gaze drifting to the floor.

“I should tear you apart for that, slowly, limb by limb… and I try to every time,” he murmered through gritted teeth.

“But when I move to crush you, when I aim to smash your organs like this—” His knee shot up without warning, and you flinched, bracing for the blow to your stomach.

But he paused, an inch away from impact.

“This, is all this cursed body will let me do,” He lowered his leg, sliding it between your thighs, forcing them apart as a flush crept into your cheeks.

But it faded just as quickly, when his veiny hand clamped around your throat, squeezing with ruthless force until your breath hitched and your lungs screamed for air.

“When I try to strangle you—to crush your windpipe… Like this,” Just before your oxygen ran out, he released you, leaving you dizzy and panting.

“I cannot do it.”

His hand slipped to the back of your neck, roughly pulling you closer until your bodies were smashed together. His other hand trailed to your mouth, thumb brushing your lip, and you instinctively let your jaw relax.

“When I plan to cut your tongue out, so I don't have to hear your whiny voice,” His finger slipped inside, his nail grazing your tongue, drawing a thin line of blood.

His eyes followed the red that pooled, almost entranced, and when it spilled down the corner of your lips, he leaned in.

“This, is all I’m reduced to doing.”

His tongue slid out, licking the trail of blood from your mouth. It sent a jolt through you, and you could barely process everything that was happening—his words, his touch, it enveloped you entirely.

In that moment, there was only him.

His tongue swept over your lips, before it invaded your mouth entwining with your own. The metallic taste of blood was quickly drowned out by your mingling saliva, and his thumb moved from your lower lip to trace the line of your jaw—a gentle touch, entirely in contrast with the kiss that only grew rougher and more demanding.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to his lead—or rather, to his control—too overwhelmed by the intensity to take charge yourself.

And even when he broke the kiss, leaving you completely breathless, your eyes remained squeezed shut—because you couldn’t bear to look at him...

Not with everything he was stirring up inside you.

But... you did feel his breath against your ear, a low, rasping whisper that sent chills down your spine, as his fist crashed into the wall beside your head.

“I absolutely despise you, brat."

---------------------------------------------------------

Omg sowwy this was late but its extra long so I hope I'm forgiven, there was some personal stuff.

Anyways, y'all better enjoy this one bc it was a GRIND. Loveyou ❤️👏

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel , @nessca153

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

[olivialau]

Gojo wishing you a happy bday ☆

Made for my cutie @lawleightinc 's birthday a few days ago.

Pls give credits when using thankyouuu

[olivialau]

Hey there! I just got back on Tumblr a few months ago after years of being MIA 😩, and I'm looking to find some lovely JJK mutuals. Whether you're a writer, artist, or just someone who loves chatting about the characters, the show, or anything else really!

I write for the JJK fandom on here and AO3, and like to draw on the side. I'm into several otome games, Bleach, Aot, and some Blue Lock as well, so if you're a fan of those too, even better!

Feel free to hit me up if you wanna chat! 🖤

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch.29

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 29 - The 5 Stages of Drinking Alone

That night marked the second time you had cooked for Sukuna.

The rich aroma of stir-fried beef and vegetables simmering in a spicy, savory sauce prickled at your nose as you set the knife down on the counter with a soft clink.

You tuned the faucet, letting the hot water run over your hands, so lost in thought that you hardly noticed the heat nearly burning the tips of your fingers.

The whole day you'd been mulling over how comfortable this all felt, how familiar—when it absolutely shouldn't.

You had put in a lot of effort, going as far as preparing an assortment of side dishes that you had meticulously arranged on the coffee table. And honestly, it was mostly due to the thrill of finally eating something other than overly salted, greasy takeout for the first time in days.

But there was also the fact that you would be sharing this meal with Sukuna...

Let’s just say you didn’t hate the idea.

It was ridiculous, really—you didn’t even know if he was serious about you keeping your end of the bargain. Yet, the desire to impress him was so persistent, so undeniable. You imagined his brows unfurling, his hands unclenching, his eyes widening slightly in surprise at the taste. You wanted him to soften toward you, to see you.

You craved it so intensely that you barely felt guilty about cooking for a monster like him, using ingredients bought with stolen money, in an apartment where you were essentially confined.

And you hated him for that, you truly did.

Though, perhaps it wasn’t even him you hated, but rather, the impenetrable block of ice around him. Or even more fittingly—the raging fire that burned everything in its way.

You knew extinguishing that fire was an impossible dream, a goal forever out of reach. But maybe, you could contain it, shrink it from a forest blaze into something smaller, something more manageable, like a house fire. Maybe then, wanting him wouldn’t seem so foolish. Maybe then, reaching for him wouldn’t feel so impossible.

They do say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, so it was worth a shot, right?

You left the pan on a low simmer as you waited for Sukuna. Despite his completely erratic personality, you'd noticed over the past few days that he returned home at almost exactly 8 p.m. every night.

So you'd started preparing about an hour in advance, and sure enough, at five minutes past eight, the door swung open.

Sukuna walked in, with a black undershirt clinging to his muscular frame, and his robe slung casually over his shoulder. He sniffed the air, his gaze tracking down the source of the aroma. As his eyes landed on the bowls and plates you had arranged on the small table before the couch, his brow arched in surprise.

Maybe he hadn’t expected you to follow through on your promise. Hell, maybe he didn’t even want you to. The sudden rush of anxiety that came over you was laughable. You hated how easily he could make you feel like this—anxious, second-guessing yourself.

From the corner of your eye, you tracked his movements as he strode past the kitchen, completely ignoring you. Without a word, he disappeared into his 'quarters,' slamming the door shut behind him.

You cringed. Great. This was embarrassing, but you weren't going to let him ruin this for you. You deserved to enjoy this meal with or without him.

Grabbing the kitchen tongs, you scooped a generous serving into your bowl of rice. But just as you were about to sit down, the door creaked open once more.

Sukuna reappeared, now without the robe over his shoulder, and—curiously—carrying two silk pillows in his hands. You watched him, uncertain of what to expect, as he placed a pillow on either side of the coffee table. Then, with a gracious movement, he crouched down and settled onto one.

“Are you done yet? The smell’s tolerable, I suppose.” he grumbled, eyes narrowing at you in what was probably his version of an invitation.

Your lips quirked up in surprise. So, he was joining you after all.

You quickly loaded another bowl with rice and beef, walking it over to the table and setting it down in front of him. He sat casually with one knee pulled up, and the other leg stretched out under the table, his calf brushing against your designated pillow.

You sat down opposite to him, cautious to avoid touching his leg, as you waited for him to take the first bite.

When he raised the chopsticks to his mouth, you couldn't help but notice the way his arm flexed with the movement, his muscles thick and well-defined under his tattoos. It was... distracting, to say the least.

And in your distraction, you almost missed it—the subtle shift in his expression as he chewed. How his brows relaxed, how his eyes seemed to brighten, ever so slightly. It was nearly imperceptible, but you'd spent enough time studying his face to catch even the smallest change.

You smiled to yourself, only for him to snap back to his usual self, glaring at you as his grip tightened on the chopsticks in his hand. “What are you laughing at, woman?”

You waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing. Just wondering if you liked it, that’s all.”

You leaned back, intending to rest your hand on the floor behind you, but instead, your palm landed on something warm—Sukuna’s ankle.

Fuck, of all things.

You jerked your hand back in shock, knocking your chopsticks to the ground in the process.

“Ah, I—” Flustered, you quickly ducked under the table to retrieve them. But as luck would have it, the chopsticks had rolled in the most unfortunate direction—about ten inches away from Sukuna’s... well, his crotch.

You swallowed, trying to stay calm, and reached for the chopsticks without drawing any attention. But when you finally grabbed them, your eyes involuntarily flicked up—and... there it was, staring you in the face. The fabric of his pants stretched over him, outlining everything.

Oh.

You quickly looked away, cheeks burning.

If that’s how he looked soft, then—no. You were not going to go there. You were not some kind of depraved pervert.

Clearing your throat, you slid back up, holding up the chopsticks to emphasize that they were the reason you'd disappeared under the table for a good minute. "Uh, sorry about that," you mumbled.

Sukuna, however, seemed entirely unfazed, already back to devouring his meal, side dishes included. Did anything embarrass this man?

Probably not.

He was such an odd creature.

---------------------------------------------------------

In the days that followed, life became a touch more engaging, with a wider array of options to fill the endless hours of this painfully dull house arrest.

With Sukuna’s permission, you'd ventured a block beyond your set limits to the grocery store, where you picked up a cheap TV from the electronics department at the mall along with a handful of DVDs.

Using such a large amount of stolen money at the checkout felt morally questionable, but given everything you’d been through, a small bit of comfort wasn’t a crime, was it?

Now, your daily routine included trips to the supermarket, afternoons spent watching cliché movies, and evenings cooking dinner for you and Sukuna.

Those dinners were mostly spent in silence—Sukuna wasn’t much of a conversationalist at the table—but every now and then, he’d grace you with what passed for a compliment in his book: “This doesn’t taste as terrible as it looks.” “I’ve had worse.” “I suppose you’re good for cooking, at least.”

It was progress, wasn't it?

After dinner—came training. As brutal as ever, Sukuna never went easy on you, but at least you were getting better. Your cursed energy was slowly returning to its former level, and you were regaining control, little by little.

Three more days passed in this relative peace, but you were still desperately counting the days until Sukuna’s promised 'reconsideration'. While you had adapted to the routine, you still felt like a dog in a cage—it wasn’t really living.

You missed your friends, your parents, and all the people you cared about. The guilt of hurting them gnawed at you, especially in the quiet moments...

This particular afternoon, you found yourself sprawled across the couch, legs dangling over the armrest, half-watching a predictable romance movie on the new TV. While the plot was utterly, utterly cliché, the male lead didn’t look half bad, so you were content enough to keep watching.

Sukuna had spent the morning holed up in the basement, a change from his usual habit of disappearing elsewhere. You couldn’t help but wonder what kept him busy down there, but you knew better than to ask. It wasn’t worth the trouble—he’d just snap at you for prying.

The movie was nearing its climax, the moment where the estranged lovers were finally about to reunite after years of heart-wrenching separation. But right then the familiar, heavy thud of Sukuna’s footsteps on the basement stairs pulled your attention away from the screen.

He strode into the kitchen, grabbed his keys off the counter, and headed toward the door. But along the way, he paused, his hands slipping into his pockets as his attention drew towards the scene on screen.

The male lead was in the midst of his grand declaration, confessing how his lover had haunted his thoughts in her absence, how his face burned whenever she was near, how his chest tightened, making it hard to breathe unless she was in his arms. Classic, over-the-top romance movie stuff.

You braced yourself, anticipating Sukuna to scoff or hurl an insult from behind the couch. But instead, he appeared... reluctantly intrigued.

His gaze flicked from the screen to you, and he pulled a hand from his pocket, pointing it toward the scene. “What’s this garbage?" he asked, his voice difficult to read. “That scrawny idiot... what’s he blathering about?”

You nearly laughed out loud. Of course—Sukuna had probably never sat through a romance movie in his thousand-year existence. But to not even recognize what was happening? That was rich. You stifled the chuckle threatening to break free as you replied, “It’s a romance movie. He’s confessing his love to her.”

“Hmph,” Sukuna grunted, his jaw tightening as he averted his gaze. His fingers tugged at the fabric near his chest, and he muttered under his breath, “Sounds more like he’s describing a curse.”

You smirked at the odd observation. You certainly considered your crush on Sukuna to be somewhat of a curse, so you didn’t argue. “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” you said, shifting to sit up.

Right then, the characters on screen leaned in for a dramatic, passionate kiss—the kind of lip-smacking, moaning kiss that would make anyone flush with embarrassment, and that was especially true with Sukuna standing right behind you.

You reached for the remote to switch it off, but before you could press the button, he interjected with another remark.

“I’ve never grasped why you brainless pigs bother with that,” he spat with disdain. “When I took my concubines, I didn’t waste time on pointless gestures. Fucking is a necessity—like food, combat, or breathing. Nothing more. Why complicate the matter?”

You nearly choked. Not only had Sukuna casually brought up his sex life, but he also managed to sound like the most emotionally stunted man alive while doing it. You turned to face him, unable to contain your lecture about how narrow-minded of an opinion that was.

“It’s more than just 'fucking.' It’s about knowing every part of each other—touching, feeling, connecting... You wouldn’t understand.”

He cackled, dragging a hand through his hair. “That sounds ridiculous.” And with that, he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.

You sighed deeply, sinking into the couch cushions. That man was impossible. But no matter how much he grated on your nerves, you couldn’t get him out of your head.

With a groan, you grabbed your phone, determined to focus on anything else.

You pressed the button on the side, waiting for the screen to light up. With squinted eyes, you quickly punched in your password, deliberately avoiding the missed calls and messages from your mom. You couldn’t handle that pain right now.

You opened your feed, scrolling through the endless recipes in search of inspiration for dinner. Cooking for someone else—even if that certain someone didn’t bother to pretend he appreciated it—had somehow reignited your love for it. It gave you a sense of control, turning the lost time locked away into something... slightly meaningful.

After sifting through a bunch of bland or overly complicated dinner ideas, you landed on a recipe for a mouth-watering mushroom risotto.

Perfect.

You copied the ingredients into your notes and grabbed your coat for a quick grocery run.

The walk was short, and soon enough, you found yourself wandering the aisles, hunting down rice, mushrooms, parmesan cheese, and a bottle of cheap white wine. To your delight, there was a buy-one-get-one-free deal on the latter, and, well, you weren’t one to turn down a bargain.

Back home, you unpacked, took a long, hot shower, and began preparing dinner. The risotto simmered gently over low heat in the pan as you poured yourself a glass of wine—the bottle was already uncorked for the recipe, so why not indulge?

By the time the risotto was finished, it was perfectly creamy and fragrant, with just the right consistency, and just in time for Sukuna’s expected arrival. You sank into the couch with your glass, basking in the satisfaction of a job well done.

But as the minutes ticked by, your satisfaction slowly began to fade.

8:10 PM. Nothing.

8:30 PM. Still nothing.

By 9:30 PM, you were starving and long past the point of caring. You stomped into the kitchen and scooped a generous portion unto your plate—more than half, because screw him. You weren’t going to wait around for someone who clearly didn’t give a damn.

As you wolfed down the risotto, the exquisite taste was drowned out by the disappointment gnawing at you. It wasn’t just about having to eat dinner alone—you were used to that, having grown up with parents who were always away for work.

No, it was the fact that you had put effort into this, that you’d wanted to impress him, even if you hated admitting that to yourself.

You’d wanted one of his backhanded compliments. One of those smug remarks that somehow managed to make your heart thump in your chest. Instead, you were left with cold food and an even colder sense of rejection.

After finishing your plate, you dumped it in the sink, the half-empty wine bottle catching your eye. Well... if he wasn’t here tonight, you might as well enjoy the evening, right?

That stupid decision marked the beginning of the familiar 5 stages of getting drunk alone.

Stage one: Anger.

You grabbed the bottle and took a few bold swigs straight from it. “Who the hell does he think he is? Some kind of king?” you muttered, pacing the room with the bottle in hand. “Fucking idiot. He could’ve at least let me know he wasn’t going to join for dinner.”

With your free hand, you scrolled through your phone, looking for music to match your mood. You cranked the volume up, letting the pounding bass and angry vocals blast through the apartment.

By the time you emptied the first bottle, you were drained. You collapsed onto the couch, the playlist fading into the next, as if on cue; A mix of heart-wrenching ballads.

Which led to stage two: Sadness.

Your near-death experience, failing Ayumi, the guilt, the fear, the unanswered calls from your parents and friends—it It was like a dam broke, and you couldnt control the outbreak of tears. It wasn't the dignified kind of crying, either—no, this was the ugly, snotty, full-body sobbing that only seemed to happen when you’d had just enough alcohol to stop caring how you looked.

By the time the sobbing subsided, your face was puffy, your eyes swollen, and your sleeves tear-stained.

And that’s when stage three hit: Desperation.

Suddenly, you scrambled off the couch, horrified at the thought of Sukuna walking in and seeing you like this—like a complete wreck.

No way. Not happening.

You rushed to the bathroom, splashing your face with cold water, changing into something more flattering, something less… tear-soaked. You brushed your hair, checking your reflection until you looked somewhat presentable again.

Good. Crisis averted.

But when you stepped back out, your eyes drifted to the second bottle of wine still sitting on the countertop, staring you down...

Maybe just one more glass wouldn't hurt?

You poured yourself a generous serving and settled back onto the couch, opening your phone's selfie cam to ensure you still looked decent.

But just as you raised your glass to take the first sip, the sound of a key slipping into the lock startled you. Your phone nearly slipped from your hand, and you quickly sat up straight.

Sukuna stepped in, blood splattered on his clothes—more than usual.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised to see you still awake, before his gaze shifted to the wine glass in your hand and then to the empty bottle on the floor.

You knew that look. He was about to say something snide, some smug comment you weren’t in the mood for. So before he could get a word out, you beat him to it.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up. You could’ve at least told me you weren’t going to be here for dinner.” you hissed.

Sukuna huffed, clearly unimpressed as he tossed his keys onto the counter. His eyes flicked toward the stove where the risotto sat, cooled to a lukewarm temperature. He removed the lid and took in the smell, completely ignoring your remark.

“Hey!” you snapped, your frustration reaching a boiling point. “You could at least explain yourself! Or say sorry!”

He turned, red eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of the apartment. “Huh? I don’t owe you a damn thing,” he said, his voice a low, condescending growl. “As I recall, you're merely a tool in my arsenal, not my wife.”

The audacity.

You marched over to the kitchen, standing beside him as he casually grabbed a plate and served himself some risotto, completely oblivious to your anger.

“A tool?” You seethed. “Fuck you, Sukuna, I’m a human being.”

He didn’t even glance at you. “Exactly. You're an insignificant human. That's why you're owed nothing. I don't answer to humans. Or to anyone, for that matter.”

You clenched your fists, barely containing your booze-fueled fury. But even in your drunken state, you knew there was no point in arguing with him. With a huff, you stomped back to the couch and took a long drink from your glass.

To your surprise, Sukuna sat down beside you with his plate in hand. You shot him a sideways glance, irritated by his presence yet unable to resist gauging his reaction to the dish.

But instead of reaching for his first bite, Sukuna suddenly lunged towards you, roughly snatching the glass of wine from your hand. “You're intoxicated. Put down the wine, fool.”

Oh, so now he was sticking his nose into your business? You quickly yanked the glass back from him, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. For a brief moment, he looked a little humbled that you’d caught him off guard, but that expression quickly vanished, replaced by a deep, dangerous scowl. He slammed his plate down on the coffee table with a sharp clatter, clearly gearing up for a fight.

Well, he was in for one.

You defiantly gulped down another mouthful of wine, but Sukuna was fast. He seized the glass once more, gripping it so tightly you were surprised it didn’t shatter in his hand.

He shot you a deadly glare, a final warning that he wasn’t joking. But you couldn't care less. You reached out with your right hand as a distraction, and when he moved the glass away, you intercepted with your left, convinced you’d outsmarted him.

But of course, Sukuna’s speed and strength were far superior to your little trick. Your own fault for forgetting who you were up against... In an instant, he snatched your wrist, forcing you to let go when your bones crunched together.

As the glass slipped from your fingers, the wine splattered all across your chest, completely soaking your white shirt.

“Ugh, look what you did!” you snapped, wrenching your hand free from his grasp.

Sukuna shrugged, clearly of the opinion that you’d invited this disaster upon yourself. He tossed the glass over his shoulder, where it shattered against the floor in a million pieces.

Though you barely registered the sound, too busy fumbling with your drenched shirt. It clung to your skin, sticky and cold, while the sour smell of wine wafted up and overwhelmed your senses.

It was gross.

And so, in a bold move you would have never—ever—considered sober, you decided that if Sukuna had already seen you naked, what difference did it make if he saw you in just a bra?

Completely oblivious to how inappropriate this was under the influence of so much wine, you grabbed the edges of your damp shirt and peeled it off over your head.

Sukuna caught the whole thing and didn’t bother to look away. For a brief second, the corner of his mouth twitched, a certain curiosity battling against his usual indifference. But just as quickly, he masked it, settling back into his stone-cold facade as he let out a soft, irritated groan.

You shot him a glare, gripping the wet shirt tightly in your hand. "What are you staring at? It’s nothing new, right? ‘Nothing special’ ?”

His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened—as if he were barely restraining himself from punishing you for that attitude. But instead of rising to the bait, he turned his gaze away and dug his nails deep into the armrest.

Meanwhile, you got busy wiping the remaining wine from your chest and hands with the dry part of your shirt, your thoughts muddled as the effects of that last glass of wine hit you—hard.

In your haze, you failed to notice Sukuna bending over to reach for his plate on the coffee table. And without a second thought, you tossed the wine-soaked shirt aside, completely unaware he was directly in the line of fire.

In a most cruel twist of fate... the shirt landed right on his face.

You froze.

In an instant, the athmosphere shifted. Sukuna's aura darkened and it was as if a thunderstorm had suddenly eclipsed every ray of light. His hand curled into a claw as he peeled the shirt from his face, revealing his eyes.

They were burning... fiery red flames.

You could barely discern his words through the gutteral growl that ripped from his throat. "Oh, you've done it now, little sorcerer."

Before you could blink, he had you pinned down against the couch, his large hand gripping your jaw so tight it was impossible to move. The sharp tips of his nails bit into your cheeks, and his musky scent mingled with the lingering remnants of spilled wine.

His chest pressed down against yours, the weight of him pushing you into the cushions. You felt the straps of your bra strain under the pressure, barely holding your squashed boobs in place.

Trapped like that and utterly at his mercy, you should’ve been scared—terrified, even—but instead... the next stage of drunkenness decided to hit.

Stage 4: Lust.

Each breath, each shift of his body caused a shot of adrenaline to rush through your veins, but not from fear—no, it was excitement. The kind that made your heart race, your body flush, and your skin tingle. The electrifying kind that made you look away because you knew that if you met his gaze... you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from closing the distance between your lips and his.

He hovered so close above you that his warm breath brushed your skin when he hissed through gritted teeth, “You truly believe you can escape any consequences, don’t you, you foolish brat?”

Sukuna tightened his grip on your jaw, and you could sense the raw strength of his hand—how easily he could crush your entire skull with it.

But the fact that he chose not to… oh, that was exhilarating.

"Look at me," he snarled. His whole presence exuding such an overwhelming authority that your body obeyed before your mind could process.

Your gaze shot up to meet his, and the moment your eyes locked—something in you snapped. A heat rose in your core, and you pushed your body against his, overcome with a sudden desperate need to be closer to him.

Sukuna’s eyes widened—not in anger, but in surprise. The fact that you weren’t trembling or shrinking away like a coward, but instead leaning into him, fascinated him in a way that was completely foreign. It was like a spell—a curse—had taken hold, and he couldn't stop himself from pushing back, his hips grinding into your lower belly.

His grip on your jaw was now so tight, that it forced your teeth apart... You looked up at him through your dark lashes, a red-hot glow spreading across your cheeks

And then the most unexpected thing happened.

Sukuna’s mouth crashed down on yours, leaving you utterly breathless. His hot, wet tongue pushed past your lips, claiming you in a way that was beyond overwhelming.

He wasn’t just kissing you; he was devouring you, forcing your attention on him and him alone.

You gasped against his mouth, unable to keep up with the intensity as his free hand slipped to the back of your head, roughly yanking on a fistful of hair and pulling you closer. He was demanding your lips stay locked with his, while his tongue explored every single corner of you.

It was as if he’d taken your words from this afternoon fully to heart: 'It’s about knowing every part of each other.'

The sharp tug of his nails at your scalp, the crushing weight of his body pressing you deeper into the couch, and his pointy corner teeth grazing your lips with every attempt to invade deeper—to the point of drawing little droplets of blood.

It was clear that he kissed in the same way he fought—cruel, harsh, and unrelenting.

Your chest heaved as you fought to get a breath in between the frantic meeting of your mouths. Your arms and legs beginning to tremble from the intimate skin-to-skin contact against a man so loaded with cursed energy.

“Sukuna—can't—breathe,” you managed to moan against his lips, your voice barely audible between the lewd, wet sounds of your mouths colliding... But instead of pulling away, he pulled you closer still, tugging your hair once more as he sucked on the tip of your tongue.

Until he finally pulled back, leaving a thin string of saliva connecting you as you both gasped for air.

Sukuna wiped the slick from his lips with the back of his hand, shifting his eyes away from you, as if he couldn't face what had just happened. His flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the ragged rise and fall of his chest made him look.... unmistakably human right now, despite how hard he pretended to be otherwise.

You swallowed, heart still pounding in your chest. Unable to get your voice above a whisper to ask him. “Are you oka—”

But he shut you up before you could finish, slapping his palm over your mouth. His left hand, still tangled in your hair, yanked harder, forcing your head back as his lips found your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, nipping as he moved down until they met your collarbone.

He slowly dragged his tongue along the skin, causing a low moan to escape you from under his hand, before he continued his trail.

When he reached the top of your breasts, just above the edge of your bra where they spilled over, the nipping turned into harsh bites. This was his way of releasing his anger—of punishing you, without having to kill you...

Your body jerked under the sharp pain, your hips arching against him as a low, dangerous growl rumbled from his throat.

You felt his cock harden at his crotch and push into your belly with a tantalizing force. The earlier encounter under the coffee table had already given you a faint idea of his size but damn—this was even more impressive...

The damp heat of your breath, trapped beneath his hand, started to mirror the growing warmth between your legs. It left you shifting uncomfortably, rubbing your thighs together in a futile attempt to relieve the ache building inside you.

Then, suddenly, Sukuna released his hand from your mouth, allowing you only a second to recover before his lips were back on yours—this time softer, giving you some space to breathe. It was no less intense but tender in a way, if you could call anything he did that.

His tongue danced with yours, finally letting you match his rhythm. Caught up in that flow, you managed to free a shaky hand from beneath his weight and slide it behind his neck, pulling him closer.

But as you did, his body tensed, and without warning, Sukuna tore himself away from you. The cool air of the apartment touching your skin where he had been before, leaving you cold and exposed.

A horrible, empty feeling.

“Hey,” you called out, brushing a strand of sweaty hair behind your ear. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. He only growled as he rose to his feet and kicked the empty wine bottle beside the table with enough force to send it crashing into the wall, shattering into pieces.

You pushed yourself up, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable as the flush of drunken confidence faded. You instinctively covered your bra with your arms.

And just like that, you’d reached the fifth, and final stage of your drunken odyssey: Regret.

Sukuna's back was still turned towards you, and his fists were clenched tight at his sides. You knew you'd crossed a line, and now everything had changed.

What if he hated it? What if he hated you?

You could sense he was about to speak, but the thought of hearing those words from his mouth—of him closing off any opening, if there ever was one—was too much for you to bear. Desperate to avoid that outcome, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind:

“This was stupid. We shouldn’t have done that. Let’s just… forget it, okay?”

Once again, Sukuna didn’t respond. He didn’t even turn around. He simply... walked to the front door, opened it and disappeared into the cold night air—without a single word.

And you? You were left alone, with the shards of broken glass on the floor, the plate of risotto still untouched on the table—now as devoid of warmth as you were.

And worst of all? He never even got to taste it.

---------------------------------------------------------

Okay hope y'all enjoyed that extra long, extra juicy chapter imma leave you with that 🫡

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel , @nessca153

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

[olivialau]

Angsty Megumi x @lawleightinc piece as requested by her 🖤🤭 enjoy babeee

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch. 28

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

-‐----‐---‐---‐---------------------‐-‐‐‐--‐--‐------‐-‐-------‐-----------------

CHAPTER 28 - A Thief's Robe

Once your heart finally settled down and the heat in your cheeks began to fade, you gathered the courage to pull the sheets away from your face.

You quickly sneaked a glance at Sukuna, trying to gauge if he’d noticed your little meltdown. But to your surprise—or perhaps disappointment—he didn’t seem the least bit interested. His eyes were closed again, and he’d settled into a casual, cross-legged position.

How could he be so calm and detached after pointing out how the two of you had ended up in such a... compromising position? Then again, maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised. His earlier words still echoed in your mind:

“I’ve seen countless naked women; you’re nothing special.”

Ouch.

Sure, you’d never considered yourself anyone’s idea of a supermodel, but you didn’t think you were that forgettable. In your experience, men had always been pretty easy to impress. Put on a low-cut shirt, force a coy smile, and they’d be tripping over themselves.

But Sukuna? He was nothing like most men. He was more of an untamed animal—wild, instinctive and dangerous. Sometimes that made him easy to read and predict, but more often, he was like a puzzle you could spend a lifetime trying to piece together and still never quite complete.

And yet, despite knowing all this, a part of you felt stung. The fact that Sukuna couldn’t spare a fleeting thought for your appearance only made the gap between you feel more... insurmountable.

Well, whatever. It’s not like you could actually pursue your crush and date him. Could you imagine that? The thought alone made you snort.

A romantic picnic? Yeah, right... Any squirrels or birds nearby would scatter within seconds, sensing the unmistakable danger. And when you'd sit down, he’d probably toss a chunk of meat at you with zero romantic pretense, declaring that, 'That’s how it was done in the Heian Era.'

And God forbid you ever took him to a tragic romance film; he’d be cackling loudly during the most heart-wrenching death scene, while everyone around you would shush in your direction, and shoot you nasty glances.

Maybe, if you were lucky, he’d at least offer you his oversized robe in some half-hearted gesture of chivalry at the end of the day—only for you to completely drown in the size of it.

The silent chuckle at that ridiculous mental picture triggered a sharp pang in your lower abdomen, suddenly making you aware of the agonizing pressure around your bladder and snapping you out of your thoughts.

Shit. You needed to pee—badly.

But there was one little problem: you were still very much lacking in the clothing department.

On one hand, Sukuna had already seen you naked, so why even care at this point? On the other hand, his rude remark earlier had made you feel, well, extra self-conscious.

Annoyed but desperate, you sat up in bed, clutching the sheets to your chest. “Uh, Sukuna, I... really need to go to the bathroom,” you said, fidgeting with the silk beneath your fingers. “Could you maybe get some clothes from my bag? It’s by the couch in the living room. Anything will do, really.”

Without opening his eyes, Sukuna raised an eyebrow, a low grumble escaping him. “I’m not your servant. Grab them yourself.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, making sure the sigh that followed was as loud as possible, so he couldn't miss it. “You really can’t spare a single ounce of decency, can you?”

Another irritated grunt followed, his lip twitching at the corner as he stretched out his legs. For a moment, you thought he was going to ignore you entirely—until his hand went to the edge of his robe, tugging at the fabric near his chest.

You blinked, suddenly very aware of what was happening as he slowly peeled off his robe. The warm amber light of the room gradually illuminated the sculpted muscles of his chest beneath, and a blush returned to your cheeks before you could stop it as you realized this was the same chest you’d laid against—naked.

“What are you doing?!” you blurted out, too flustered to think clearly.

He ignored you and, instead, shed the rest of his robe in a smooth motion. With a nonchalant toss, he sent the heavy fabric flying, and it landed right on your head, draping over you like a thick veil of white. The material muffled his voice, but you could still make out his words very clearly.

“There. Now cease your whining brat. And don’t stain that with your filthy blood.”

Wait... What?

Did he really just—did he seriously give you his robe to wear? You pulled the fabric off your head, your eyes narrowing in disbelief.

But when you hesitated, his hands clenched in angry impatience.

Not wanting to push your luck with a bladder that felt ready to burst, you slipped your arms through the robe’s sleeves, taking extra care not to aggravate the still-healing gashes on them.

The fabric was still warm from his body heat, carrying the same scent as the sheets, but with a faint hint of sweat mixed in. It was a blend that felt primal—thrilling.

You stood up from the bed, suddenly aware of just how enormous the robe truly was. And oh my god—that’s when it hit you. This was frighteningly similar to one of those absurd Sukuna-as-a-boyfriend scenarios you’d imagined just now. Could it be he actually had intentions like that toward you? No, no. This was just a coincidence.

It had to be.

Desperate to get out of the room, you shuffled toward the door, trying not to trip over the excess fabric. But just as your fingers brushed the doorknob, Sukuna’s voice rang out.

“Stop.”

You froze, his command halting you in your tracks. With slight reluctance, you turned, tilting your head in silent question.

Sukuna’s eyes, now open, began to trace over your body in that slow, deliberate manner of his. They gradually shifted from their usual menacing slits to slightly softened lids, revealing his deep crimson irises. You could have sworn there was even a faint red hue gracing his cheeks, though you quickly attributed that to the ambient light in his room, bouncing off the red walls.

After a long, tension-filled moment that had you dodging his gaze like it could have turned you to stone, he waved a hand dismissively. “Never mind. Go.”

That was odd... but you didn’t need to be told twice. You practically fled to the bathroom, grabbing your phone and a fresh set of clothes along the way. Once inside, you locked the door and let out a sigh.

You sank onto the toilet seat and hastily turned on your phone, a wave of relief washing over you as notifications flooded in from missed calls and messages from your parents and friends.

They were worried, of course—worried you hadn’t responded for over a day, worried you hadn't returned to the memorial service. But they were safe, and that was what mattered. You’d deal with their concern later. For now, you were just grateful Sukuna hadn’t made good on his promise to tear through the building and everyone in it.

It was... surprisingly decent of him, you supposed.

After flushing, you stopped when you passed by the mirror, opening the robe to reveal your stomach. The skin was smooth, untouched—no trace of the gunshot wounds. It was like they’d never been there.

Though the memory of those shots was still fresh in your mind—the ringing of your ears, the searing pain, the numbing shock. The weight of everything you’d been through crashed over you, and a sob broke free from your throat before you could stop it.

Your body might have healed, but the wounds that mattered most—the ones carved into your soul—remained untouched. You had failed Ayumi. Again. And now, the chance to make it right was lost forever.

Your fingers traced the spots where the bullets had hit, leaving faint red marks with the edge of your nail. A part of you wished the scars were still there, as a reminder of your failure. You deserved them.

You deserved something ugly to carry as a mark of atonement.

With a final circle over your stomach, you pulled the robe close and splashed cold water on your face, hoping to calm the redness around your eyes. You then changed into a fresh set of clothes, neatly folding Sukuna’s robe to return it before you knocked softly on his door.

From the other side, his regal voice called out, “Yes?”

You cracked the door open. “Uh... I just wanted to return this,” you said, holding out the robe. He growled, clearly irritated. “Then return it. Don't stand there gawking.”

You sighed, pushing the door open and stepping inside. “Here you go,” you said, setting the folded robe down in front of him. “I’ll move back to the couch and get out of your way.”

Sukuna grabbed the robe, unfolding it and slipping it back on. For a moment, you wondered if he could feel the remnants of your body heat too. Did your warmth affect him in the same way his had affected you?

It appeared the answer was no; he remained as detached and cold as ever.

You turned to walk away when you suddenly felt a hand grab your wrist.

“Wait.”

Startled by the unexpected contact, you flinched. The grip was firm but not painful. When your eyes met his, it was clear he was mulling something over. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke up.

“This" He said as he pushed the nail of his free hand into your stomach. "was clearly an assassination attempt... The only spineless fools who would resort to underhanded tactics like this, are the higher-ups at Jujutsu High."

Your heart skipped a beat. The higher-ups? You vaguely recalled Gojo mentioning something like that. Could it really be true?

Before you could fully process your thoughts, Sukuna continued, “Don’t go back to Jujutsu High for a while.”

His eyes locked onto yours. “Lay low. Stay inside. You clearly don’t have the strength to defend yourself, and they’ll undoubtedly make another attempt. We’ll continue your training until you’re marginally less useless.”

You scowled, ripping your wrist from his grasp. “What? I can’t just hide here. I have friends at Jujutsu High. Besides Gojo is there, he would protect me—”

The mention of Gojo's name seemed to anger Sukuna even more, a fierce spark igniting in his eyes as he interrupted you. "This is not up for debate," he snarled, as his gaze narrowed. "You will remain here."

Your hands balled into fists at your sides as Sukuna pushed himself up, and rose to his full height to tower over you with an undeniable authority. “I'll reassess in a fortnight. Until then, you don’t leave this apartment. That’s not a suggestion; it’s a command.”

You wanted to argue, to scream, but you knew it would be pointless. So instead, you shot him your best glare, turned on your heel, and slammed the door shut behind you.

Childish? Perhaps. But he needed to understand that this was as good as torture. It felt like being held captive all over again, and the mere thought of that...

It was suffocating.

-‐----‐---‐---‐---------------------‐-‐‐‐--‐--‐------‐-‐-------‐-----------------

The next few days were a monotonous haze, a seamless loop of absolute boredom.

You’d wake up, scroll through your phone, and ignore the flood of messages from Yuji, Megumi, and Kugisaki—even Gojo’s persistent voicemails went unchecked. But what tore at you most... was leaving your mother's calls unanswered.

Not by choice, obviously; Sukuna had forbidden all contact. His reasoning? It was safer for everyone to think you were dead. You had argued hard, even throwing a desperate punch at his stomach, which he gladly returned, by the way.

But in the end, Sukuna's word was final. There was no persuading him, and you were ultimately bound by the vow.

So you were stuck here, unable to contact anyone, with nothing but an empty apartment to occupy you. No TV, no books, no games—just the whitewashed walls staring back at you. Sometimes you’d give up on your phone and simply sit, eyes tracing cracks in the ceiling while you counted the seconds in your head.

Even dinner which you typically looked forward to, had lost all its appeal. Sukuna wouldn’t let you step outside, not even for the short walk to the grocery store. So, you had to order takeout—greasy, tasteless meals that began to nauseate you by the third day. Not to mention, the smell lingered in the apartment for at least another two hours, suffocating you further.

Sukuna, on the other hand, came and went as he pleased. Often, he’d return late, his clothes stained with blood. There was never an explanation, just a brief command to join him for training.

It was the only thing that broke the monotony of your days. So, you didn’t hate those training sessions; in fact, you even looked forward to them. They allowed you to vent your frustration, burn off the restless energy building inside you, and gaze into Sukuna's deep red eyes—eyes you both liked and despised.

Though even the training had changed a little. The aftermath of your fight with Toji and the strain of using Reverse Cursed Technique had left your cursed energy sluggish and weak. No matter how hard you tried... it felt distant, like a flame struggling for air.

After the sessions, you’d shower, but by the time you were done, Sukuna had already disappeared into his room.

At least sleep came easily, deep and dreamless. But the next morning inevitably arrived, and the cycle repeated: wake up, stare at the walls, eat, train, sleep. Repeat. A week passed, and you were ready to tear the walls down with your bare hands.

So, when you saw Sukuna heading toward the door to leave again that morning, for God knows what, you quickly sprang up from the couch and shuffled over to him, catching his attention by calling out.

"Sukuna, wait! Can’t I just... go for a quick trip to the store?  I’m sure no one would notice me. I’ll wear sunglasses, wrap a scarf around my head—anything. I just need some air. I’m losing my mind in here."

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at you, rubbing his temples in clear annoyance before speaking. "Not after you deceived me and pulled that pitiful stunt. This situation is entirely your own doing, little sorcerer."

He turned back to the door, ready to leave, but you grabbed his robe before you could think better of it—a move you instantly regretted when he turned, a deadly look in his eyes.

Quickly, you withdrew your hand and stepped back. "Okay, I get it," you stammered, shifting tactics. At this point, you weren’t above bribing him if it meant escaping the four walls of this apartment.

You had to try.

"So... what if you gave me an official command not to go anywhere else? You know I can't break the vow. It’s just... I’m losing my mind in here, and I miss cooking for myself. Hell, I’d even cook for you. You didn’t hate it last time, did you?"

Sukuna’s jaw clenched as he glared at the door. It was as if he hated himself for even considering your request. Because of that, you were sure he would refuse you, if only to maintain his pride.

But just as you were about to give up, you heard a soft, “Tsk. Fine,” through gritted teeth.

He turned toward you, and met your gaze with a warning glare. “Don’t go further than the store, not a single step. If you sense even a hint of danger, you return immediately. Don't delude yourself into thinking you can fight with those laughable skills of yours.”

You blinked in surprise. “Seriously? I mean, yes! No problem, I’ll go straight there and back.” Your excitement bubbled over, and a genuine smile lit up your face. It wasn’t much, but it was a breath of freedom.

You hurried to grab your coat from the couch, plunging your hand between the cushions to search for your phone.

Meanwhile, Sukuna’s grip tightened on the doorknob, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he stood there, unmoving. That was until he snapped at you, “Are you going to take all day, woman?”

Wow. He was waiting for you.

You finally felt the cool surface of your phone and pulled it out, quickly sliding it into your coat. You ducked under Sukuna's arm when he opened the door, and a grin tugged at your lips as you glanced back at him, half-expecting a biting retort. “Thanks, Sukuna.”

But he didn’t snap back; his gaze was already fixed elsewhere as he huffed and slammed the door behind him.

The sunlight hit your skin when you stepped outside, warm and comforting. The air smelled fresh, and you could hear the distant sounds of the city—people talking, birds chirping—it felt like music after the days of silence. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, soaking it all in.

But then, like a literal shadow over your newfound light, Sukuna appeared behind you.

You turned, startled. “Huh? Are you going to walk me there?”

He raked a hand through his hair, with a bored expression. “Don't flatter yourself. I’ve got business in the same direction.”

“Right...” You shrugged it off, trying not to let his presence ruin the moment. The sunlight was still warm, and you could still feel the breeze. You could enjoy it, even if Sukuna was looming over your shoulder.

Though his shadow did take away some of the pleasant burn of sunlight on your skin.

As you turned onto the next street, you noticed Sukuna still walking behind you. Wasn’t he supposed to be headed somewhere else by now? Weird coincidence, but whatever.

Perhaps you could make use of this.

"Hey, Sukuna..." you began, your voice a little too casual.

Sukuna growled. You could practically hear his brows furrowing behind you. "What now?"

You stifled a smirk, having come to enjoy the push-and-pull of your dynamic. It had become something of a game for you, though one you knew could end badly if you pushed too far.

You had three gashes on your arm as tangible proof. But still, you couldn't resist.

“You know, when you held me captive in that basement—” A hint of bitterness crept into your voice. “There was a TV down there. Do you still have it? I’m going out of my mind with nothing to do.”

Sukuna’s expression didn’t change, his hands casually shoved into his pockets. People on the street instinctively steered clear of him, causing a small, empty circle to form around the two of you.

“I left it there,” he said flatly. “Buy one yourself if you're so desperate.”

You huffed. "How am I supposed to do that? I don’t have any money, and I’m kind of... stuck, thanks to you. I can’t exactly get a job under these circumstances."

You shot him a pointed look, ensuring he caught the jab. But... maybe you had pushed the limits of this game a little too far, because he let out a low growl and pulled his hand from his pocket.

You braced yourself, certain he was about to throw a fist at you.

But instead, he reached behind you in a flash, dragging a well-dressed woman from the crowd and yanking her into a nearby alley. The speed of it was dizzying—almost too quick for your eyes to track, let alone for any ordinary person.

Her expensive silk scarf fluttered away in the wind as you sprinted after them into the alley. Sukuna had her slammed against the wall, his hand gripping her neck with a harsh hold that left a nasty mark.

“Your wallet. Hand it over. Now,” he demanded. This clearly didn’t faze him at all; in fact, he looked rather indifferent, as if this was just a dull chore he had to take care of before he could move on to something more worthy of his time.

The woman trembled, pointing weakly at the handbag slung over her arm. “It’s... it’s in there. Please, don’t hurt me.”

Your eyes widened in shock, but before you could react, Sukuna released his grip and swiftly slashed the straps of her purse, sending its contents tumbling to the ground.

A cascade of makeup, loose change, and other clutter spilled across the pavement in chaotic disarray as the woman scrambled away, her heels clicking frantically against the hard surface until she vanished into the distance, swallowed by the crowd.

Sukuna sifted through the fallen items until he grabbed hold of a wallet. He tossed it to you, and you caught it instinctively, surprised by its weight; it was stuffed.

“Sukuna, you can’t just—” you started, but he was already strolling away, further down the alley. He didn't spare you a second glance as he yelled back one last time:

“Stop complaining, brat. You’ve got the money now, don’t you? Buy your damn TV and stop pestering me.”

You stared after him, utterly dumbfounded. He really was an evil jerk. And to a random lady, no less. Glancing down at the wallet in your hands, you realized you couldn't possibly return it now; she was long gone. So... the least you could do was make the most of the situation, right?

You tucked the wallet into your pocket and glanced over your shoulder like a common thief about to get caught. You couldn’t believe you were actually doing this...

As you walked the final stretch to the store, you shook your head in shame.

Sukuna really was a bad influence.

-‐----‐---‐---‐---------------------‐-‐‐‐--‐--‐------‐-‐-------‐-----------------

Thank you for reading, loves! 🫶 I sincerely promise it’s about to get 🥵🫦 real soon!

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel , @nessca153

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch.27

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 27 - A Bullet and a Cure

Huh? Did you hear that right?

You'd never seen this man before, so why in the world would he want to kill you? It didn't make any sen-

Before the thought could even finish

forming, the black-haired male vanished, like a ghost. Your heart raced in panic, and your eyes darted around the space searching for any sign of his presence.

But it was too late.

A bone-shattering force slammed into your ribs from behind, sending you stumbling forward. The air forced out your lungs, as you doubled over, coughing and spluttering violently.

Instinctively, you whipped around, still breathless, only to see him standing there, casually twirling the three-section staff in his hand as if it were nothing more than a child’s toy. The ease in his movements, the casual confidence—it froze your blood.

With a final flick of his wrist, he released the weapon, letting it sail just over your head. You barely had time to flinch before he vanished again, disappearing into thin air. You heard the faint clink of chains as the weapon fell back into his grasp, caught effortlessly behind you. Then, before you could turn around, it struck you—this time straight to your spine.

A searing, all-encompassing agony tore through your back like fire, paralyzing your thoughts. Your knees buckled, but instinct kicked in and you dropped into a roll instead, desperate to escape the next blow you knew was coming. It felt like you were trapped in a relentless game, where no matter how frantically you pressed the dodge button, you couldn't escape the barrage of attacks.

How was he moving like that? How could he vanish and reappear in the blink of an eye? Was it his cursed technique, or was he simply that fast—so fast your eyes couldn’t keep up?

Whatever it was, you had to find a way to turn the tide. Now.

Outmatching him physically was impossible. His presence alone was enough to dwarf you—a towering beast, corded with muscle that stretched out his skin-tight shirt. He was a predator, designed solely for destruction.

That left you with only two options: your cursed technique and your wits. If you couldn’t meet him head-on, you’d have to be smarter somehow.

But how could you get close? Close enough to touch him? He was relentless, with no openings, not a single break in his attacks. You needed a distraction, something to shift his focus for just a second. Amidst your ragged breaths, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Hey, dickhead—who even are you?”

His expression remained unchanged, but you caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes, as he swung again. The segments of the staff danced through the air, straight at you. You barely managed to sidestep the strike just as the weapon slammed down, shattering the concrete where you had stood moments before.

That dickhead just ignored you.

He dissapeared once more, reappearing close enough for you to feel the rush of air as he swung at your side. You twisted sharply, muscles screaming in protest and the open bite-wound on your shoulder stretching wide as you evaded the strike by mere inches.

“Seriously?” you gasped between heavy breaths. “You’re just—” another jolt of pain, as the staff grazed your arm, “—gonna kill me without—a damn introduction?”

He exhaled a quiet sigh, as though the entire exchange bored him. "My name doesn't matter doll," he said, his voice low and indifferent. "It’s nothing personal. Just a job."

Your heart pounded in your chest, both from the strain of the fight and the bombshell revelation that someone had actually hired some type of hitman to take you out.

Who the hell would go that far? And why?

Certainly not Sukuna; if he wanted you dead, he’d take the pleasure himself—heck, it’d probably be the highlight of his week.

The notion briefly distracted you, making you stumble as another swing narrowly missed your face. You only managed to dodge because of the clattering of chains that preceded the strike.

“A job?” you wheezed, your lungs burning. “Who… who hired you?”

He didn’t bother responding, just swung the weapon down again. You threw yourself to the side, and the world spun as your head slammed into the concrete.

Just as the metallic tang of blood filled your mouth, he finally spared you a most unsatisfying answer. “Can’t say. Client confidentiality.” Then, with a scratch of his cheek, he added, “Why ask? You’ll be dead soon anyway.”

Dead soon. Fantastic.

You staggered to your feet, legs barely holding you upright. “You—” you coughed, spitting out blood, “you should at least tell me your name then.”

He hesitated for a moment, until he shrugged in a way that said, Hell, do I care, and muttered, “Toji Fushiguro.”

Hah. What a weird coincidence. Wasn’t that Megumi’s name, too? Now that you thought about it, this guy did bear some resemblance to a buffed-up version of your classmate. The comparison made you chuckle, and a laugh slipped out just as you ducked another swing aimed at your head.

Toji raised an eyebrow at your chuckle, grumbling, “Huh? What’re you laughin’ at?”

You wiped away the damp strands of hair clinging to your sweaty face and muttered, “Oh, it’s nothing.”

His grip on the weapon tightened, clearly annoyed by your lackluster answer. Sensing his tension, you quickly added, “It’s just... I’ve got a classmate with that name—Fushiguro.”

Toji’s swift movements suddenly halted. For a split second, he stood there, eyes slightly widened, as if something had caught him off guard. But before you had time to think about that odd reaction, you sprang into action, closing the gap and grabbing a tight hold of his free arm.

You weren’t about to let this chance slip.

Just as you braced for the sweet kick of his cursed energy fueling you—right when you desperately needed that extra burst, you noticed—there was nothing.

You focused harder, searching for the familiar pulse of power. But when you really looked at him for the first time, it hit you: Toji was your natural enemy.

He had no cursed energy. Not a single trace. Just an unnerving, terrifying stillness surrounding him. How could you have missed this? You’d just assumed—given his speed, beastly strength, and those insane reflexes... But you were wrong, terribly wrong, and that mistake might very well cost you your life.

Toji stared down at you, unbothered, as you clung desperately to his arm, breaking out in a cold sweat. Up close, you noticed the scar running straight down his lip. For some reason, you committed every detail of that face to your memory—the face of the man who was inevitably going to kill you.

With a casual motion, Toji slung the three-section staff over his shoulder and shot you a questioning look. “What now? Trying to flirt your way out of this?”

And then you noticed something out of the corner of your eye; the faint hum of cursed energy radiating from the three-section staff. Suddenly, you remembered Gojo's words to you, when he'd shown you around the weaponry room at Jujutsu High:

“Each weapon is imbued with a curse.”

You hadn’t tested this one crucial possibility. Could your technique work on anything with cursed energy, even that weapon? The thought sent a thrill through you—what if it really worked?

Your fingers twitched as you let go of his arm and seized the staff slung over his shoulder. A rush of cursed energy surged through the weapon—stronger than you had anticipated. You focused, drawing as much of it into you as possible, draining it like a final lifeline.

Toji's eyes narrowed as he yanked the staff back, but you'd felt it—the curse within the weapon weakening bit by bit while your own strength intensified. You felt rejuvenated, like you had just downed a shot of espresso on a particularly groggy morning.

You summoned every ounce of cursed energy you had, and gracefully transferred it to your leg, swinging your foot at Toji's side in a powerful kick.

He dodged, with his irritating inhuman reflexes, but your kick did manage to graze his thigh, sending a jolt of cursed energy through him. The corners of his mouth turned upwards, seemingly amused by your sudden power boost. "Finally gonna give me a real fight, huh?"

You shot him a challenging smirk. The answer was yes—because you had a plan now. Sure, it might be a bit reckless, but hey, a plan is a plan.

With the energy you’d siphoned from his weapon, it had to be losing its edge. But to drain even more and render that weapon completely useless, you needed to make contact again and again. So for now, you'd keep dodging—but not entirely. Just enough for the staff to whip against your legs and arms.

It’d hurt like hell, but with your life on the line, you’d just have to tough it out.

Toji and you resumed your earlier dance of strikes and dodges, and you began willingly ruining your evasions, taking the hits to your limbs. Each moment of contact became a calculated risk, and with each hit you clenched your jaw against the pain, drawing in as much energy as possible in that one second.

Toji, on the other hand, seemed blissfully unaware of your strategy, his ego swelling with every strike he landed. “Hah, looks like you’ve lost your edge already, huh? Don’t worry, doll, this’ll be over soon,” he taunted.

But the more battered and bruised your limbs became, the lighter the incoming strikes seemed to hit. The cursed weapon was losing its power, and with it, your chance for victory was growing.

It was time for your offensive.

With his next attack, you seized the three-section staff with your bare hand. You saw the flicker of surprise in Toji’s eyes when you didn’t even flinch, and in one swift motion, yanked the weapon toward you, forcing him to stumble forward.

In that split second, you reached for the cursed dagger tucked snugly by your ankle, hurling it straight at his face.

Naturally, he deflected it. But by then, you’d already closed the distance, channeling your cursed energy into a powerful strike aimed at his stomach.

Toji didn’t dodge. He didn’t block. Instead, he took the hit head-on, just as you had with his earlier blows. He clenched his jaw, a raspy groan escaping his lips as he reached for the worm draped across his chest.

“Ouch. That hurt, kid,”

You prepared to strike again, ready to take advantage of his proximity. But right then, with an unsettling nonchalance, he plunged his free hand into the worm's mouth. His other hand released the staff, letting it clatter against the concrete with a sharp echo.

He reached deep into the curse’s mouth, pulling out something gleaming—a dark metal catching the light through the gaps of his fingers. But before you could make out the object's shape, his arm swung down with blinding speed.

And whatever that object was, it was cold, hard, and now pressing forcibly against your stomach. It didn’t hurt—not yet—but a primal instinct screamed that something was terribly wrong.

BANG.

First, your ears rang. Then a strange warmth spread through your stomach, a warmth that made you look down in confusion.

A gun.

Then came the pain, piercing pain, screaming pain, unbearable pain.

BANG.

Another shot.

Your vision grew hazy and your legs collapsed. Somewhere above you, Toji’s voice drifted through the haze. “Told ya this would be over soon.” Then footsteps walking away. A wet sticky sound as his slippers pulled from the pool of blood.

Your blood.

Ah this strange sense of peace, you'd felt it before. That's right when Mahito tore open your stomach and the life seeped from your bones. When you were sure you'd die but Sukuna saved you.

Sukuna... he wasn't here to save you now. So that lie did come back to bite you in the end, huh.

The cold began to spread. It started with your fingers and toes, then crawled up your limbs. The chill settled in your belly, then your face and chest.

And then, finally, your heart.

---------------------------------------------------------

That icy, suffocating chill—the kind that seemed to freeze time, breath, and life itself—was the last thing you remembered.

Now, though, warmth had blossomed in its place, like sunlight breaking through the horizon after a long, dark night. It wrapped around you gently, like a soft, silken cocoon.

You could see a faint light shine through your closed eyelids—warm and golden—casting everything in a dream-like haze. And beneath that warmth, you became aware of your body, bare and free from the restrictions of clothing, as if you had merged with nature itself.

Guess they don’t do clothes in heaven, huh?

There was a scent too, comforting and familiar, like the soft smolder of a campfire’s dying embers, mingling with fragrant earthy spices. It reminded you of the way Sukuna’s sheets smelled that one time you accidently took a nap on his bed.

Wait… this wasn’t heaven, was it?

If Sukuna haunted your thoughts even here, then this surely couldn't be heaven.

There was a hollow disappointment. You’d almost convinced yourself that you might see Ayumi again, though a deeper part of you knew you wouldn’t have been able to face her—not after failing her so spectacularly.

You let out a deep, bitter sigh and whispered to yourself, "I'm nothing but a worthless mess… such a pathetic excuse for a person."

When suddenly, a voice cut through your private dialogue.

"Finally, something sensible out of your mouth. Now, add 'treacherous lying rat' to that list of yours."

Your eyes snapped open. That voice—it was...

Blinking in confusion, you took in your surroundings: walls drenched in deep crimson, intimidating weapons mounted like trophies, the furnishings a rich, dark teak.

Your heart stuttered. Sukuna’s room.

Your eyes darted to the side as Sukuna’s presence fell over you like a weighted blanket. He sat cross-legged in his robes, eyes closed, resting against a pillow propped up to the wall. Then, as though he could feel your gaze even through his shut eyelids, his eyes snapped open, locking onto you with a seething glare that spoke volumes—far more than words ever could.

He was furious.

He extended his hand, subtly pointing a single finger in your direction. You tilted your head, momentarily puzzled by the gesture—until his intentions became painfully clear. With a voice barely above a whisper, he uttered a single word that belied the power it held. “Dismantle.”

A sharp sting followed, and alongside it, a long, thin line cut across the skin of your upper arm. Blood began to trickle out. It was as if the entire length of the cut wept, red seeping downward in a steady flow. You gasped, clutching the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.

“What the hell?!” You yelped.

Sukuna’s brow furrowed deeper, his sneer revealing the pointy edge of his corner teeth. His cold voice cut through the air, just as sharp as the wound he had inflicted.

“That’s the price for trying to deceive me, you worthless human.”

As you opened your mouth to defend yourself, Sukuna extended his hand again, repeating the same gesture. Another precise slice appeared beneath the first, mirroring its length and depth. You muttered a soft “ouch,” struggling to cover both wounds with one trembling hand.

For some reason, you found yourself trying to keep the blood from staining the silken sheets, though you weren’t entirely sure why you cared at all.

When you met Sukuna's unwavering glare once more, it was clear he felt entitled to punish you. To him, this was merely the fair consequence of your actions. "That was for your foolish decision to take on an opponent far beyond your capabilities."

What? That was just rude. You hadn’t exactly had a choice in the matter. Just as you were about to protest, “I couldn’t do anyth—”

He cut you off. “This one is your final warning not to push me any further, woman. After this, it won't be a mere cut to your arm. Do with that knowledge what you will.”

Slash. Another deep cut sliced into your arm, joining the others in a perfect row of three. Blood oozed from the fresh wound, and your single hand struggled to contain the flow. Your other hand rushed in to assist, but in the chaos, the covers slipped dangerously close to exposing you.

That’s when you realized that the part of your dreamlike state—the part where you were completely bare and devoid of clothing—hadn’t been a fragment of your imagination at all.

“What the—?” Your bloodied hand instinctively reached for your stomach, and to your surprise, it felt supple, soft, and whole—no festering gunshot wounds. You shot Sukuna a look. He must have been the one to save you, and you were grateful for that, but you couldn’t possibly overlook the fact that you were naked in his bed and that he must have seen everything.

“Did you do this?!”

He snapped back, his expression unfazed. “What? Strip you bare or patch you up?”

“Shit. Both,” you retorted, heat rising in your cheeks at the bluntness of his words.

“Hmph. Yes and no.”

Huh? What did he mean by 'no'? Did those wounds close up by themselves? Had someone else intervened?

“How do you explain this, then?” You asked, gesturing to your stomach before returning to clamp your hands over the oozing cuts on your upper arm.

For the first time, Sukuna’s stern, angry gaze gave way for a teasing one, the corners of his lips twitching upward ever so slightly. “I don’t know what you’re referring to, little sorcerer. Perhaps you should lift the sheets and enlighten me.”

You shot him a glare that screamed, Go to hell. He clearly relished the opportunity to mess with you, even now, just moments after you had practically risen from the dead.

Catching your venomous stare, Sukuna scratched his head in irritation, and scoffed, “Tch. stop your whining. In the Heian Era, bare flesh was as common as dirt. I’ve seen countless naked women; you’re nothing special.”

Yeah, remarks like that must have really scored him points with the ladies back then, you thought, rolling your eyes.

Before you could muster a retort, Sukuna went on to explain the absence of the two gaping holes in your stomach.

"When I found you, you were nothing but a bloody sack of meat, barely clinging to life. Your body refused to die properly, stubbornly twitching with the feeble remnants of cursed energy you absorbed before getting shot. That meager bit of power was making a half-hearted attempt at reversing the damage—keeping you alive but, little more than that "

Was he implying that your own body had tried to perform a type of Reverse Cursed Technique on itself? How was that even possible?

Sukuna leaned back against the wall, before continuing, "I dragged you back here, even tried to undo the damage myself. Why I'd waste such effort on a lying wretch like you is beyond me. But it was useless—you were already more corpse than human."

A sly grin curled his lips. “At that point, finishing you off would have been a mercy. But I've wasted too much time training a measly dog like you to let it all go to waste. So I took a gamble.”

You clutched the sheets tightly, torn between a desire to hear more about what had transpired and a growing irritation at his condescending tone. Yet, despite your frustration with him, the fact that he had attempted to revive you at all, kindled a warmth within you. It stirred feelings that were quite at odds with your anger.

Sukuna let out a weary sigh, as if the task of explaining everything to you was an exhausting chore. "I reasoned forcing you to absorb my cursed energy might do the trick. Either you'd finally kick the bucket, or your body would utilize it for a proper Reverse Cursed Technique."

He regarded you in silence, his expression blank, while you stared back, wondering why he didn't continue his explanation.

“And?” you prodded, impatience creeping into your voice.

He growled back with one brow arched in disbelief at your stupidity. “What do you mean 'and?' Are you dense as well as weak? You're breathing, aren't you?”

Well, he had a point.

A grin crept onto your lips as it sank in—you had actually pulled off something like RCT. That was a feat only the most skilled sorcerers could manage after years and years of grueling training. Not too shabby for a 'measly dog like you,' huh?

But then again, that still didn’t explain why you were naked.

“So why are my clothes gone?” you asked, demanding a proper answer even as a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. Because deep down, you already knew the answer wouldn’t change a thing; the damage was done—Sukuna had seen you naked, and you had to live with that now.

Sukuna's nails sank into the pillow beneath him, his expression one of mild exasperation, as if you were the one missing the obvious. "Have you forgetten how your own technique works? Skin contact, you fool."

You raised an eyebrow, still confused, as a playful retort slipped out. "So... what? You decided to cozy up, and lay down on my bare body?”

“Of course not, brat.”

Thank god. You let out a sigh of relief, recalling how your last joke about him joining the memorial had spectacularly backfired. You were really glad history wasn’t about to repeat itself. But just as that thought crossed your mind, Sukuna added with a casual tone,

“I laid your bare body atop mine.”

He didn’t even smirk, nor twitch. He was dead serious.

Oh god. Your cheeks flared hotter than a freshly boiled lobster, a shade of red you didn’t even know existed. You’d been knocked out and left to play naked cuddle with the King of Curses. You should’ve felt disgusted—like a normal person would—but somehow, your traitorous body buzzed with something entirely different.

You yanked the sheets over your head, desperately trying to shield yourself from the onslaught of images swirling in your mind: Your bare breasts pressed against the hard contours of his muscles, the heat radiating from his skin slowly thawing your own icy body. Each rise and fall of his chest as he breathed inducing a tantalizing friction against your nipples.

If it hadn’t been for the RCT you had performed on yourself, you might have chalked these thoughts and feelings up to the aftermath of cracking your head on the concrete during the fight with Toji. But if all the damage in your body had been reversed, that meant that there could only be one explanation—one inconvenient truth you couldn’t ignore any longer, no matter how hard you tried.

You had a crush on the biggest asshole you’d ever met—a man who had used you as little more than a chew toy, who’d just as soon roast you alive than spare you a second glance.

You had a crush on the King of Curses.

---------------------------------------------------------

Sorry this chap took a bit longer, I have no excuse friends I was just being lazy 🤭

Hope you enjoyed it <3

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch.26

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 26 - Showdown

You stood beside Sukuna a little while longer, your breath unconsciously falling into rhythm with his. The quiet was broken only by the crunch of small rocks beneath his restless feet. He seemed incapable of standing still, as if he were waging a war in his mind, a battle he tried to fight out with the gravel beneath him instead.

His hands flexed and clenched, the veins bulging visibly under his skin. And all the while, his gaze remained fixed on the distant line of trees, deliberately avoiding you, as though even a glance in your direction might tip the balance of the conflict within him.

It felt odd to see someone as powerful as Sukuna grappling with something. You'd never imagined that anything could rattle his unshakable ego.

Was he genuinely that disturbed by the rare kindness he had shown?

Now that you'd thought about it, he had been acting surprisingly restrained almost the entire day. Apart from his harsh words, that is. It was slightly disconcerting, like a lion choosing to lie down with a lamb. But part of you couldn’t help but hope he might lie down with you a little longer.

However, beyond the idle daydreams and hopes surrounding Sukuna, you couldn’t deny that his restraint was also a valuable opportunity. If you could persuade him to grant you some time alone, you’d have the freedom needed to pursue your true objective for today: tracking down the curse that killed Ayumi.

You were sure he wouldn’t simply agree to the idea of his ‘pawn’ potentially risking her life in a quest for vengeance.

But fortunately, Sukuna’s influence had made you better at deception.

The countless lies you spun at Jujutsu High, the half-truths you told your friends and Gojo—all were a result of the pact he forced on you. In the end, he had shaped you into a liar and manipulator, and you felt no guilt about using those very skills against him now.

If anything, it seemed almost poetic—fitting that he would finally face the consequences of his own games.

"Sukuna…” you began, softly, as if unsure. It was better to let him think he had the upper hand, that this was a moment of genuine vulnerability.

His gaze remained fixed on the distance as he kicked the next rock with particular harshness, as if to underscore his earlier warning against overstepping.

“What?” he grumbled, sending another stone skidding further away.

“I was thinking,” you muttered, carefully choosing your words. “Ayumi’s grave… it’s not far from here. I haven’t had a chance to visit since, well, everything happened. I thought maybe I could go there for a bit. Alone. Just to… pay my respects.”

Sukuna’s expression didn’t shift at first, but a small sneer soon curled his lips as that familiar, fiery glint returned to his eyes. He seemed eager for the opportunity to revert to his usual demeanor, to distance himself from the inner turmoil he was feeling.

This was comfortable for him—simple, instinctive.

"And why,” he drawled slowly, “should I let you run off by yourself? Didn’t I tell you already that I do not care about your dead friend?”

The way he referred to Ayumi stung, but you forced yourself to swallow your emotions and look away, focusing on your feet. “I… I just thought…” you stammered, letting your voice waver ever so slightly under the guise of false vulnerability “I thought maybe… you’d understand. Just this once.”

He tilted his head slightly at your pleas, finally turning to face you. And the cold look in his eyes told you everything—you weren’t getting anywhere with this approach. Maybe another tactic would work better...

Your mind scrambled for an answer, and only one thing came to mind.

Sukuna thrived on power and the satisfaction of seeing people helpless under his control. If you could play to that, if you could flatter his ego and make him believe you were utterly at his mercy, perhaps he’d grant you some leeway.

Your voice tightened. “Besides, it’s not like I could ever escape you," you said, as you you fidgeted with your hands. "It's like you said this morning, I'm well aware of that. Me, my friends, my family… you could erase them all with just a flick of your fingers.”

You clenched your jaw, hating the groveling tone you had to use, but you pressed on, “I'd never be foolish enough to go against someone as powerful as you.”

Sukuna’s grin deepened, his sharp teeth gleaming. “Keep going.”

With great hesitation, you glanced up through your lashes and looked him in the eyes. “Your strength is beyond anything I could imagine, and I understand my place. I’m not trying to defy you—I’m just asking for... a bit of time.”

He watched you for a moment longer, relishing the way you lowered yourself before him. Then, with a slow, deliberate sigh, he turned his gaze back toward the trees. ““Fine,” he said. “Go. But one wrong move and I’ll slice through this building and everyone in it.”

You couldn't hide your relief, a pleased expression crossing your face.

This certainly made things easier.

“Also,” he called out, “don’t try an act like that again, little sorcerer... While it was thoroughly entertaining to hear you beg through gritted teeth, I have no patience for those who grovel. At least retain some measure of dignity and strength.”

Annoyed by Sukuna's remark, right after you put yourself through something so humiliating, you rolled your eyes, letting sarcasm seep into your voice despite your better judgment. "So, what would you prefer? Should I say, 'Let me mourn my dead friend, or I'll kick your ass?' Is that what you're looking for?"

As soon as the words left your mouth, you tensed. This was incredibly reckless.

Why did you have to provoke him right after getting his permission? You were growing too bold around him, and you knew it.

The familiar shiver of fear gripped you as his eyes lit up. Yet, alongside that fear, there was a strange anticipation—an eagerness to see how he would respond to your challenge.

"You’d kick my ass?" he repeated, his voice dangerously quiet.

Sukuna turned toward you fully, and in an instant, he had his hand firmly grasping your shoulder. The tips of his sharp nails pierced through the fabric of your dress, sinking into your flesh with a painful pressure that kept you immobilized.

"I should tear you apart just for entertaining that thought." His eyes locked onto yours and a silent battle of gazes played out between you.

In that moment, the strange anticipation you’d felt began to make sense.

At first, whenever he threatened you like this, you felt pure survival instinct—an acute awareness that this man, this monster, could extinguish your life in a heartbeat.

But now? The dynamic was shifting. It wasn’t merely a matter of him threatening you; it felt as though you were both testing each other, dancing on the edge of danger.

It felt almost like… banter. Like a twisted, deadly version of it, sure, but still—there was a strange rhythm to these exchanges.

You wondered if he sensed it too. Was he playing the same game you were, or did his words still hold the lethal danger they always had?

For now, you didn’t want him to revoke his permission, so it was wiser to hold back on the challenge. "Hey… it was just a joke," you said, pulling your eyes away from his, in an attempt to defuse the situation.

But Sukuna wasn’t finished. He grasped your chin firmly, drawing your face back toward him.

"A joke?" His voice was a low hiss, and his lips curled into a snicker that sent a chill through you. "Do you want to know what happened to the last fool who dared joke with me? A clan leader in the Heian Era, thought himself clever, thought we were equals."

His next words slithered out slowly, each one more menacing than the last. “He lost his tongue first... then his eyes. And now? He’s just another forgotten name rotting in the dirt..."

Despite the dark threat hanging in the air, there was something inside you that refused to flinch, a quiet voice that knew—he wouldn’t kill you. Not now. Not like that. Maybe it was reckless, maybe you were just as foolish as that clan leader, but you felt the urge to push him further.

You needed proof that you weren’t just another pathetic human to him, another soul he would casually destroy. That there was something—anything—that set you apart. That was the only way in which your own feelings could have any meaning.

“Well," you began, fighting to keep your voice steady. "You’re the one who said you hate weaklings who grovel, right? And you’re the one training me. Doesn’t that mean you want me to be stronger?”

Now the pendulum could swing both ways.

Sukuna's brows drew together and his jaw tightened with irritation. He released your shoulder with a sharp shove, causing you to stagger back a step. "Stronger, yes. But not stupid. There's a difference, and you'd do well to learn it."

He exhaled, a low, rumbling sound like the growl of a beast that had been repeatedly prodded. 'I'll let it go, this once, but keep running your mouth like that, and we'll see how much longer you last."

A strange sense of satisfaction settled over you, knowing he was being lenient with you—far more than he would with anyone else.

You swallowed the smug grin threatening to rise and kept your tone steady. "Got it. Keep my mouth shut, loud and clear."

Sukuna's eyes held you with a silent warning, yet there was a contradictory glint of challenge in his stare, as if he were daring you to step out of line again.

When you didn’t, he simply sighed and rubbed his temples. "Now go. Before I change my mind."

You stumbled slightly as you turned, quickly regaining your balance. With a hurried nod, you walked away, resisting the urge to look back, though you could feel the weight of his gaze tracking your every step until you disappeared from view.

---------------------------------------------------------

At first, you headed in the direction of the graveyard. Though there was little chance Sukuna knew your true intentions or even where the graveyard was, you wanted to keep your cover airtight.

Once you were certain you were out of his sight, you veered sharply to the left, abandoning the path to the graveyard in favor of a narrow alleyway leading to the abandoned construction site.

Pulling out your phone, you texted your mom, letting her know you'd be back in an hour and that you were heading to Ayumi's grave for a moment alone. You made sure to end the message with a “love you” and a kiss… just in case the worst happened.

As you turned into a familiar street near your house, you could have sworn you saw something slip around the corner—a dark shadow, there one moment and gone the next.

A chill ran down your spine, and you wondered why you had such a visceral reaction.

You glanced around, but the street was eerily quiet, not a soul in sight. There was no cursed energy either, certainly not Sukuna’s—you would have recognized that instantly. Shaking off the unease, you turned your gaze back to your phone. It was probably just a stray dog; they wandered through here all the time.

Just before you rounded the final corner, you could already spot the tall cranes and scaffolding of the construction site rising above the rooftops. You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

It was odd; you didn’t feel fear—only a deep sense of relief that this moment had finally arrived.

It seemed like fate, as if you were following a predetermined path. It had to be you. You had to be the one to end this. Only then could you truly begin to mourn Ayumi, to remember her as she deserved to be remembered, rather than as a symbol of your failure.

With that strange sense of ease settling over you, you stepped onto the site. The vast, desolate space stretched out before you, its concrete floor littered with debris, while the skeletal cranes and rusting scaffolding cast long shadows beneath the cloudy sky.

You paused, planting your feet firmly on the concrete as you centered yourself and searched for the flow of your cursed energy.

And then; you shouted with all the force you could muster.

For a moment it was silent, save for the echo of your scream bouncing off the steel structures. But within seconds, the ground beneath you began to tremble, and from the shadows of the scaffolding emerged the first-grade curse, its dangerous aura unmistakable and all too familiar.

It was as repulsive as before, its head swaying loosely from its neck with every movement, like an old marionette. The curse's grin stretched wide, its eyes gleaming with recognition as if it remembered your previous encounter.

And the twitching of its claws betrayed the same intent you harbored; the intent to kill.

What you needed right now was a moment of physical contact so you could feed of its energy and bolster your own. And if there was ever a moment to get the upper hand it was right now, while it'd be off guard.

So you didn't hesitate and within seconds, you had closed the distance and seized its ugly leg.

You took a deep breath, focusing on the flow of cursed energy within you. Following Gojo's advice, you let the curse's energy trickle in slowly, like turning a faucet just enough to avoid being overwhelmed.

And, as your energy expanded, you entered a moment of perfect synchronicity.

This was your chance.

With a deep breath, you let it pulse out in a single, powerful wave. As you felt the energy align perfectly, you thrust your fist forward, unleashing a Black Flash that struck the curse’s gut with brutal force.

The impact propelled the creature backward into the scaffolding, and the violent crash of metal collapsing echoed through the site.

You couldn't help but chant a triumphant "yes" as you clenched your fist, savoring the victory. But there was no time for celebration; the screeching curse quickly regained its footing and began to charge up its own attack.

With a sudden twist of its body, the curse launched its head forward like a striking whip. It sliced through the air, stopping mere inches from your face, before its jaws snapped shut so close that a few strands of your hair floated away in the stream of wind.

Instinctively, you prepared to step back, but as the curse’s head began to retract, a plan formed in your mind. You ducked low and maneuvered under its head, grabbing hold of the thread-like strip of flesh that tethered its head to its body.

You gripped tightly with both hands to maximize contact, and in its confusion, you managed to drain a significant amount of energy before the curse’s claws lashed out, forcing you to let go.

But it still wasn’t enough.

You needed to drain more—enough to reduce its power to that of a second-grade curse—because your current attacks weren’t doing sufficient damage to shift the battle in your favor.

After catching your breath, you steadied yourself, preparing to close the distance again. However, it seemed the curse had caught on to your strategy. Each time you lunged forward, it swiftly ducked and evaded your attacks.

And although you managed to land a few punches and kicks along the way, the curse retaliated with its claws, leaving painful but fortunately superficial wounds.

As the battle dragged on, your initial calm began to give way to mounting frustration.

Despite your best efforts to remain focused, your emotions began to overwhelm you. Each grin and mocking gesture felt like a personal affront, fueling a seething anger that left you trembling. The thought of Ayumi lingered in your mind, and you couldn't shake the image of the curse making those same taunting faces at her before it took her life.

In a desperate, final bid to replicate your previous tactic, you lunged and grabbed the bloody string of flesh. However, this time, the curse responded with an unexpected counter. It began to swing it's head violently, causing the string to coil around your arms and upper body, pinning you in place.

You fought furiously, tearing at the binding flesh, but the close contact made it difficult to control the energy you were drawing in. So while you finally succeeded in weakening the monster to a second-grade level... the cost was devastating.

You felt your body strain under the sudden energy overload, every muscle screaming in protest as your legs grew weaker and weaker.

When you finally managed to tear yourself free from the rope of flesh, your legs gave way beneath you, and you collapsed to your knees, gasping. Your lungs burned with the effort, while your vision started to blur at the edges.

You could only watch as the curse retracted its head, grinning at you in that repulsive manner, taunting you with every second. And then, as it launched its head again, you couldn’t get your legs to move out of the way. You just barely managed to shift your own head, as it clamped its teeth down unto your shoulder.

The harsh crunch of bones between its jaws drove a scream of agony from you, while warm blood began to trickle down your chest.

You laughed at how pathetic you felt. Was this really how it was going to end? What about Ayumi? What about the revenge you'd promised? And your family—if you didn’t make it back, would Sukuna slaughter everyone there?

No... you couldn't let that happen.

You had to move, despite the pain, despite the exhaustion. You had to get yourself to move. You could endure this. A bite to your shoulder wouldn't kill you. So move.

Move, body, just—move.

With that final, desperate chant inward, you channeled every ounce of your cursed energy into your free arm. It surged into your fist, and then, with a perfect strike, you delivered a punch straight to the beast’s jaw.

The curse let out a shrill screech and finally released its bite on your shoulder.

Going on pure adrenaline and willpower, you forced your battered body to roll out of the way. You swiftly darted behind the curse, which was still reeling from the impact and clutching its throbbing jaw.

And you searched once again for that moment of perfect balance, perfect synchronicity, where everything aligned as if the universe itself was urging you on.

And then, you felt it—Black Flash.

With all your might, you swung your fist forward, closing your eyes to savor the moment of bliss that usually came with landing a Black Flash.

But there was no impact—just a deafening bang.

When you opened your eyes again, the curse started to dissolve before you.

You blinked in confusion, trying to understand what had just happened. If you hadn’t struck it, why was it screeching in terror and gradually fading into a dense, obscuring fog?

And more importantly, did this mean that the burden of guilt you carried, the sole chance to ease that weight and the one opportunity for revenge, was slipping away into nothingness before your eyes?

That realization struck hardest, occupying your mind over any lingering questions about what had just transpired.

Until, as the monster vanished and the fog began to clear, your gaze fell upon something in the distance—no... someone.

Was it Sukuna? Had he not trusted the situation and come to find you anyway? If so... you would never forgive him for taking away your only opportunity. But as you squinted to get a clearer view, you realized this was someone else entirely.

A tall, muscular man with straight black hair emerged from the shifting fog, his presence commanding a certain attention as you found yourself unable to look away.

He wore a snug black shirt and loose white pants, but what stood out above all else was the worm-like creature draped around his body and the three-section staff he twirled around with casual ease as he approached.

With a self-satisfied expression, he muttered, "Phew. Now that that fucker's out of the way..."

You tensed as he stopped right in front of you, his eyes locking onto yours.

"Sorry, kid," he said with a wolfish grin, tightening his grip on the weapon. "But you're next."

---------------------------------------------------------

Thankyou for reading beautiful babes <3 sooo about that appearance... I know he's canonically ☠️☠️ but it's a fanfiction so I make the rules and the rules say he's not lmaooo

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch.25

Sukuna x reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

CHAPTER 25 - Grief's Tender Claws

Thanks to the morning’s altercation with Sukuna, you had to sprint the last stretch to catch the train. By the time you collapsed into an empty seat, your breath came in ragged gasps. The train surged forward, and the bustling cityscape outside gave way to the tranquil expanse of the countryside. The scenery blurred into a wash of soft greens, and for the first time in a long while, you found yourself enveloped in a pocket of stillness.

But what should have been a moment of peace turned into an unwelcome opportunity for reflection. In the quiet, your thoughts circled back to the same relentless question: How could you have been so stupid as to let Sukuna join you?

In your desperation to honor your promise to Ayumi, you had been blind to the consequences of allowing Sukuna to accompany you—and those consequences were terrifying.

It was a reckless gamble, staked entirely on whether he would keep his word not to harm anyone.

You rested your forehead against the cool glass of the train window, but the gentle thud as the train rocked offered no comfort from the disturbing visions of everything that could go wrong today.

And if anything were to happen, it would be on you—just another heavy burden added to the weight of your guilt, the vow, and your already conflicting emotions.

If only you could rewind time, undo the past—or at least the past few hours. But the train sped on at over 200 miles per hour, binding you to the choices you’d made, forcing you to confront the ramifications of your hasty agreement.

Time dragged on, and as the train finally screeched to a halt, you stepped onto the platform, stretching your legs, which had become painfully stiff from your anxious tapping throughout the ride.

The station was surprisingly busy for a town of this size, filled with a chaotic symphony of overlapping conversations, distant train whistles, and hurried footsteps. Your eyes swept over the crowd, scanning the sea of unfamiliar faces for any sign of Sukuna. You hoped he’d meet you here, rather than at the memorial, so you’d have one final chance to plead with him to keep his temper in check.

You pushed your way through the throng, muttering apologies as you brushed past impatient commuters and distracted tourists. Sukuna should have been easy to spot. With his towering frame and tattooed skin, he should have stood out like a wolf among sheep.

And yet, you couldn't find him anywhere.

Just as you were about to turn a corner toward the exit, a hand landed on your shoulder, and your heart skipped a beat.

Your first instinct was that it must be Sukuna, but something felt... different.

The touch was gentle and reassuring, not harsh and commanding. You turned and met a pair of dark green eyes that seemed to smile before the lips did.

"Ryu?"

It was Ryu—a close friend from high school you hadn’t seen in over a year. Back then, he had been your steady anchor, a calm counterbalance to Ayumi’s adventurous spirit—reliable and always there when you needed a shoulder to lean on.

For a brief time, the two of you had even dated, but the relationship was short-lived, ending with a mutual understanding that you were better off as friends.

Ryu looked different now. His once-short, brown hair had grown out, falling in soft waves that framed his face. He seemed taller, broader; like the boy you knew had finally grown into himself.

When your eyes met, he flashed you an easy grin, the kind that reminded you of the carefree smile Itadori often wore. “Hey, stranger! Long time no see. Are you heading to the memorial too? How about we walk there together?”

There was a familiar warmth in his voice that pulled you in, a sense of normalcy you missed so, so badly. For a brief moment, you felt at ease. But the urgency quickly returned; Sukuna was still nowhere in sight, and each second spent chatting felt like a second lost.

Still, you couldn’t find it in yourself to turn him down completely. “Hey, Ryu! Wow, you look… different,” you said, a smile breaking through despite your nerves. “Yeah, let’s walk together. But we should pick up the pace—I don’t want to be late.”

Ryu laughed and put a hand on your head, gently tousling your hair. “You haven’t changed a bit,” he teased. “Always in a rush.”

You managed a chuckle, and as you started walking, Ryu continued chatting beside you, his words blending together as he rambled on about his major and his insufferable roommate. You nodded and hummed in vague agreement, barely processing what he was saying, your mind still occupied with finding the source of your 'rush'.

Finally, you reached the exit and stepped onto the escalator. But just as you were about to grab the handrails, someone barreled past in a hurry, nearly knocking you off balance.

Before you could react, Ryu’s arm shot out, pulling you against him with a firm grip on your waist. Heat flushed your cheeks as you quickly pulled away, murmuring a flustered “Thanks” with an awkward smile.

The incident distracted you to the point where you didn’t notice that you had reached the top of the escalator by now. And before you knew it, your shoe caught on the ridge where the steps met the platform, causing a sharp tug as you lost your balance once more.

Your heart leapt, but instead of hitting the ground, you collided with something solid and immovable.

You blinked, trying to orient yourself, and Ryu’s voice rang out behind you, nervous and stammering. “Ah, sorry, man, she didn’t mean to—”

The anxiety in Ryu's tone made you instantly tense, and with great hesitation, you looked up.

Sukuna towered over you, his eyes fixed on Ryu, and a dangerous sneer formed on his face. “Didn’t mean to what?” he snapped as you pushed yourself up from him. “Knock her head into my chest? Or wander around with an insect like you?”

No, no, no. This was the worst. Your mind raced, weighing your options. Should you pretend you didn’t know him? No, that would only provoke Sukuna further. The best thing to do was to diffuse the situation, but how?

Ryu’s hand hovered uncertainly near your arm, his posture defensive—ready to protect you from what he clearly saw as a “scary thug.” But you could see the way Sukuna’s fingers twitched, his hand already half-formed into a claw, ready to snap Ryu’s arm clean off if he dared challenge him.

The air felt charged, as if a single spark could ignite something catastrophic. You needed to act—right now.

“Hey, it’s fine,” you said quickly, stepping between them, trying to infuse as much calm in your voice as you could muster. “This is… just a misunderstanding.” You looked at Sukuna, hoping he’d catch the hint.

Your next words felt foreign on your tongue, but you forced them out anyway. “Ryu, this is Sukuna. He’s… a friend.”

Sukuna’s dangerous sneer momentarily gave way to a mocking smirk directed at you. “A friend?” he drawled, clearly amused by the choice of words. “That’s news to me, brat.”

You shot him a look, a silent plea for him to stop, but his grin only grew more sinister.

Ryu, clearly confused but not backing down, looked between you and Sukuna. “If he’s a friend,” Ryu started, his voice wavering slightly despite its determination, “then why does he seem ready to kill someone?”

Sukuna's eyes narrowed in Ryu's direction. “Because I am ready to kill someone.”

Your stomach tightened. This was escalating way too quickly.

In the heat of the moment, you placed your hand on Sukuna's arm in an effort to try and pull him back from the ledge he seemed eager to jump off. "Sukuna, please,” you whispered, mouthing the words, "Remember the promise."

Sukuna flinched at the contact, his gaze fixed on your hand for a moment before he abruptly pulled his arm away.

With a grumble of irritation, he finally muttered, “Fine.”

But not without leaning in close, so only you could hear. “But don’t think for a second I’ll let this slide if your little friend here steps out of line.”

You swallowed hard, giving a tight nod. Why was he being so overtly hostile to Ryu in the first place?

“Let’s just… get to the ceremony, okay?” you suggested.

Ryu nodded, though his eyes betrayed his concern. As you began walking beside him, Sukuna's presence remained just a step behind, like an unshakable shadow.

And you had a nagging feeling this day was only going to get more complicated.

---------------------------------------------------------

When you finally arrived at the building where the memorial was set to take place, you spotted your parents waiting near the entrance. A wave of emotions surged through you—relief, comfort, and even a touch of excitement despite the circumstances. You broke into a grin and, without thinking, dashed over to them, throwing your arms around your mom.

“Sweetheart!” she exclaimed, hugging you tightly. “We’ve missed you so much.”

Your father was close behind, his smile a bit more restrained but no less warm. “It’s been too long,” he said, his tone tinged with regret. “I just wish it wasn’t for something like this.”

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. “I know, Dad. But I’m glad to see you both.”

Your mom pulled back slightly, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Why don’t we have your father grab us a cup of coffee?” she suggested. “Give us a moment to catch up.”

Your dad nodded with a good-natured smile. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, turning toward the coffee stand.

As soon as he was out of earshot, your mom’s expression shifted to one of concern. She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Who is that tattooed thug you walked in with? The one over there, glaring at you like he’s about to start a fight?”

Your head whipped around, spotting Sukuna standing under a nearby tree, arms crossed, his face set in its usual scowl

Of course, he couldn’t just stay out of sight for two minutes.

“Oh, him?” you said, turning back to your mom. “He's just... someone I know from school.”

Your mother’s brows shot up, disbelief written all over her face. “Just someone? Are you serious? You’re not… dating him, are you?”

You let out a startled laugh, almost too loud for the setting. “What? No, Mom! Absolutely not!” The idea was so absurd, you had to swallow back a grin. “Trust me, that’s the last thing you need to worry about.”

Your mother still looked unconvinced. “I know you’ve had a thing for bad boys in the past, but this? He looks… dangerous.”

You sighed, trying to keep your voice calm. “It’s... complicated. But we are not dating, and I have zero plans for that to change.”

Zero plans might have been a bit of an overstatement, considering your recent daydreams about his godly torso, but still, it wasn't like you could date someone like him—he didn't even know what love was.

Your mom hesitated, her gaze flicking back to Sukuna, who hadn’t moved an inch, still glaring in your direction. “I hope so,” she murmured, “because he looks like trouble. Promise me you’re being careful, alright?”

“I promise,” you assured her with a firmness that you hoped would end the conversation.

To divert your mom's attention, you quickly pointed toward Ryu, who had already slipped inside, eager to distance himself from Sukuna. "Why don’t you go say hi to Ryu?" you suggested. "I’ll catch up with you and Dad in a second." Your mom hesitated,

but eventually nodded and turned to follow Ryu inside.

The moment she was out of earshot, you spun around and hurried back to Sukuna, whose sneer morphed into a satisfied smirk as you approached.

"Could you wait out here?" you whispered, your voice low, careful not to draw any more attention to him than he already commanded. You hoped he’d settle for watching from a distance instead of invading the intimate gathering any further.

That might just avert a disaster.

But without a moment's hesitation he replied with a firm, “No.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “What do you mean, ‘no’? Are you actually planning to come inside?”

He arched an eyebrow, his grin widening as if your shock was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all day. “Why wouldn't I?”

Your stomach twisted. “But you’re not even dressed for it! And… do you even understand what a memorial service is? This isn’t something you just walk into and—”

He cut you off with a low chuckle. “Oh, I know exactly what it is. A pitiful gathering where humans whine and weep over the dead.” His eyes flitted over the crowd near the entrance with open disdain before settling back on you.

“I agreed not to kill anyone unprovoked. The least you could do is offer me some entertainment in return. Watching some tears and cries might just keep me from dying of boredom.”

You clenched your fists, trying to steady yourself. “Sukuna, I’m serious—”

"So am I," he shot back, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Be grateful I haven’t ripped through half these weaklings already, especially that worm you were trailing with." He leaned closer, his grin widening to reveal his sharp corner teeth. "Don’t push me, little sorcerer. Or I might just decide to make this funeral a little more… memorable."

You knew he wouldn’t listen to you—everything in his world revolved around his whims, his amusement, his needs. Any pretense of respect for your boundaries was a game to him. You should count yourself lucky he’d made any promise at all.

But aside from that promise, you were running out of ways to keep him in check.

And on top of that, you still needed to find a way to slip out from under his gaze long enough to make it to the abandoned construction site—to find the curse you’d sworn to kill today.

Sukuna smirked at you one last time, as if he could hear every anxious thought racing through your mind. Then, with unsettling confidence, he turned and made his way toward the entrance, plunging deeper into the heart of everything you held dear.

You hurried after him, silently cursing yourself for letting things get this far. Especially when Gojo had warned you not to entangle your life any further with his.

Inside the building, people exchanged quiet conversations, looked at photos of Ayumi spread across the room, shedding a tear here and there. And to your surprise, Sukuna didn't stir things up; he just watched silently from a distance.

Yet even without moving, his presence was like a dark stain on the gathering, his sharp gaze cutting through anyone who dared glance his way. Whispers of "tattooed thug" and "trouble" rippled through the crowd, but no one seemed brave enough to confront him.

You mingled with your former classmates, greeting old friends with strained smiles and brief exchanges. But even while trying to engage in light conversation, your attention kept drifting back to Sukuna, ever aware of his watchful eyes.

When Ayumi's mom walked onto the platform in the middle of the room, mourners slowly took their seats, the initial hum of conversation and the clinking of coffee cups gradually fading into a tense quiet.

You sat down next to Ryu, while Sukuna remained standing in a corner of the room, obviously glaring at you.

Ayumi's mother approached the microphone, her face a mask of composure that barely concealed the wet gleam over her eyes.

You fought to focus on her trembling voice as she began to speak, to share memories of Ayumi that felt both precious and painful. Yet, with every word, the weight of guilt in your chest grew more intense, tightening like a vine around your heart, squeezing until it hurt to breathe.

You felt Ryu’s hand rest over yours, his thumb brushing gently against your skin, offering silent comfort. His eyes were red-rimmed too, glistening with unshed tears, but still, he kept his focus on comforting you.

As Ayumi’s mother continued, recounting moments of joy, even mentioning your name several times, you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your own tears welled up, spilling over in a silent, steady stream. You turned your face into Ryu’s shoulder, your sobs muffled against his jacket. The weight of your guilt—of losing her, your failure to protect your friend—crushed you from the inside. You felt fragile, exposed, ashamed. You didn't want Sukuna to see you like this; you could already imagine his mocking grin, his condescending sneer at your 'pathetic' weakness.

When the speech ended and your tears dried a little, you finally dared a glance in his direction.

The corner was empty; he was gone.

You felt strange, an unbidden feeling that came very close to disappointment. You should have felt relief, and yet a small, absurd part of you felt... abandoned.

Why do you care? you scolded yourself silently. This is good. This is exactly what you wanted. At least now he couldn’t cause any trouble.

Meanwhile, the room filled with the hushed rustle of tissues and quiet sobs. Ayumi's mother, her face wet with tears, made her way toward you, collapsing into your arms with a wave of grief that she'd held back during the speech. You murmured words of comfort, though they felt hollow under the burden of your regret.

She thanked you for always being there, for being Ayumi's best friend, but each thank you wound tighter around your heart, suffocating you until you could barely breathe.

When you couldn't bear it anymore, you excused yourself. You needed air, needed space.

You stumbled out of the glass entrance door, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, nearly hyperventilating.

And there he was—Sukuna, leaning against the wall outside, his arms crossed, an inscrutable expression on his face. You stiffened, bracing yourself for the taunts you were sure were coming.

But he just watched you silently, his crimson eyes locked onto yours.

You steadied yourself against the cold stone wall, willing your racing heart to calm. You felt raw, exposed. You didn’t want him to see you like this, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how broken you were. So you turned your face as far away from him as possible.

But then, something entirely unexpected happened.

Sukuna stepped forward, closing the distance between you in a few swift strides. Before you could react, his hands reached out, cupping the sides of your face, and turning it towards him. Instinctively, you flinched, bracing for some kind of impact—maybe he'd crush your skull in his grip, or rake his sharp nails through the flesh of your cheeks.

But he did neither. Instead, his thumbs brushed against your skin, wiping away the lingering tears with a tenderness that didn’t suit him at all.

His warmth was surprising, and his eyes narrowed as though he were trying to delve into the depths of your soul.

It took a moment for him to realize what he was doing. And when he did, his fingers twitched, and he jerked his hands away with lightning speed, as if your skin had burned him. His scowl returned, darkening his expression as he looked the other way.

Still, the brief, unexpected comfort of his touch had been enough to steady your breathing and ease the tightness in your chest.

Avoiding your gaze, Sukuna muttered, “I couldn’t stand those wet, bulging eyes staring at me like some pathetic puppy,” before adding, “Don’t think for a second I care about your tears.”

He always did this—defended himself whenever he showed even the slightest hint of kindness. Yet, the familiarity of his reaction drew a soft, genuine laugh from you.

He shot you a sideways glance, clearly annoyed by your reaction. “What’s so damn funny?” he demanded.

You shook your head, a small smile lingering on your lips. “Nothing… it’s just… thank you.”

He scoffed, kicking a loose stone with his foot, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration. “Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled, almost inaudible, as he clenched his jaw tight.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, a strange quiet settling between you. The world around seemed to fade, and for that fleeting instant, everything felt... okay.

Maybe today wasn’t a total disaster after all.

---------------------------------------------------------

Whew this was a long chapter, but I loved writing it! Thanks to all the support on here and AO3. It helps me stay motivated lol. Thanks for reading and ly <3

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!