do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you
sukuna x reader
summary: the higher ups succeed in kidnapping you and sukuna doesn't know if he'll get you back alive.
w/c: 2.85k
tags/warnings: fluff and angst. reader is kidnapped and gravely injured. depictions of blood. canon typical violence. "good girl". cursing. ft gojo. aged up!yuuji. fem!reader. not canon compliant. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter*
a/n: and finally folks, we've reached the climax of the series. there will only be one more official chapter after this one, so i hope this lives up to expectations. this could maybe be read as a stand alone, but it's certainly better when serving as a culmination to the other chapters. i'm a little nervous posting this, so i'd love to hear your thoughts :)
series masterlist // masterlist
brontë
sukuna isn't sure at first why the name is familiar, but he soon realizes that a great many of the books on your shelf are authored by women of that name, including jane eyre.
though he finds your copy of wuthering heights, written by an emily brontë, tucked away in the drawer of your nightstand, the headphones you'd asked him grab lying on top of it.
he pulls the book from its spot with care, as the cover is worn and frayed at the edges. flipping through the pages, there are quite a few quotes underlined and countless scribbles in the margins.
while you'd forced him to read jane eyre, he tucks wuthering heights under his arm of his own volition. he isn't sure if it's because you've kept this one separate from the others, or because it might give him an opportunity to know you better, or because he's positive it will make you happy, but he does it all the same.
when he steps back into the living room, he drops your headphones in your lap and takes the seat beside you, wasting no time in beginning the first chapter.
"what've you got there?" you eventually question, even though you know the answer.
he doesn't spare you a glance when he responds, "a book."
"oh, yeah? what kind of book?"
he elects to ignore you, which only serves to encourage your mischievous tone. "i thought romance novels were beneath you and your refined taste."
finally looking at you, he narrows his eyes at your childish taunt. "do you want me to read it or not?"
"of course—"
"then i suggest you be a good girl and behave yourself."
your mouth snaps shut so abruptly that your teeth click as they meet, something sukuna takes note of with a raised brow. you're thankful when he returns to reading rather than saying anything more.
so without any additional interruptions, he delves into the tragic story of heathcliff and catherine. or more precisely, the pain and destruction that follows it.
the further he reads, the better he discerns that while you seem to have a penchant for the brontë sisters, they seem to have a penchant for writing about men that are wicked and callous.
the very notion makes him chuckle.
maybe it explains why he's sitting here with your feet in his lap, while you try and fail (rather cutely) to stifle your giggles at some stupid youtube video.
"what?" you ask, taking out one of your headphones once you notice he's staring at you with a small smile.
"nothing. just enjoying the story."
the way you beam in response makes his mouth go dry.
"hah! i knew it! you're a romantic at heart."
you make a big show of pressing your hands to your chest and swooning.
"settle down there," he chides, his hand patting your thigh. "you're getting ahead of yourself."
two days later, sukuna feels that something isn't quite right. it's barely perceptible, nothing more than a minute shift in the atmosphere, but it grows more palpable as time stretches on.
yuuji's mission takes him farther from home than usual, to a little town about two hours outside of the city.
the curse he exorcises upon his arrival is much weaker than he's grown accustomed to, probably only a third or fourth grade.
yuuji doesn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, or at least, he pretends not to. sukuna thinks that's the problem with optimists— they don't take action quickly enough, too busy wasting their time hoping for the best.
when he returns home late that afternoon only to find your apartment door slightly ajar, his hand hesitates before pushing it open.
he discovers that the living room is littered with residuals, but it's eerie how nothing else is out of place... save for you, who is no where to be found.
in a disbelieving panic, he begins checking all the rooms, not hearing sukuna's frantic voice even though it's coming from inside his own head. "she's not here... idiot, she's not here. we have to go. we have to go now."
he eventually finds a note lying on the coffee table, but even this he hardly processes— something about surrendering himself and sukuna to the higher ups at headquarters in exchange for your life.
"listen to me, brat... you're wasting time... idiot!"
"what?" he barks abruptly.
"she isn't far, a couple blocks to the east at most—"
"it doesn't matter. headquarters is to the west. that's where we need to go."
"have you failed to comprehend a single thing i've said about the higher ups?" sukuna sneers. "they'll kill us, then kill her too. she knows too much about jujutsu society. they won't let her live, and that's if she's not... if she isn't already..."
he can't get the word out.
"no... no, they wouldn't..."
"now is not the time for your blind faith in the integrity of others." sukuna tries again and again to assume control of his vessel, and while the force behind it makes yuuji's head pound, it's no use. "for fuck's sake— please, yuuji!"
it's the first time he's heard the curse occupying his body say his actual name or use the word please, and in a strange way, it seems to ground him to some degree.
itadori yuuji has always been uncannily fast, but as soon as he makes his way out onto the street, it's like his feet aren't even touching the pavement. he appears as a blur to the people he passes by and it happens so briefly that they more than likely disregard it as a trick of the light.
the ruby decorating your neck leads them right to you, a low hum of frequency that only sukuna can hear.
yuuji comes to a stop in front of an old warehouse building. there are several wooden boards nailed across the main entrance, which splinter and fall to the earth under the impact of his impatient fist.
although the people down the hall quiet themselves upon hearing the crash, he can still sense their energy. he just can't seem to pick up on yours.
maybe sukuna is wrong? maybe you're not here after all.
"no," comes sukuna's voice, cold and hard. "she's here."
he makes his way down the stretch of hallway and to an open door where he stops, both of his feet planting firmly on the ground. everything appears to be frozen as he stares at ten sorcerers who quietly stare back.
it's clear they were not expecting yuuji, but he knows the higher ups assigned so many sorcerers just in case he did somehow figure out where they brought you.
he recognizes many of their faces and even knows some of their names, their familiarity no doubt intended to discourage him from engaging them.
after a few moments, yuuji's eyes land on your figure— motionless on the floor.
he has to admit, the higher up have put together a fairly sound plan. it's just that there's one small detail they failed to account for.
a curious and constraining sensation erupts from the center of his chest, and yuuji doesn't quite understand what's happening until he registers he's no longer the one in control of his body.
the king of curses remains completely still as he studies you from afar with a slight tilt of his head, his mind refusing to believe the scene right before his eyes.
when the gravity of the situation finally settles in, a gut churning agony blossoms in his stomach and bleeds into every part of his body. every bone. every pore. every vein.
the entirety of him burns, both inside and out.
the air in the room is heavy, overburdened with hostility and raw power. it makes the sorcerers' knees buckle and they nearly collapse beneath the immense pressure.
as sukuna takes a step toward the nearest person, the edges of his vision turn white.
he moves with deadly precision, at a speed which very few people on earth could even begin to comprehend.
it's a joke how quickly it's all over.
some of them are in pieces. others have exploded into nothingness. a few are burnt to ash.
in his haste, sukuna nearly misses the final sorcerer. he's probably the youngest of them all, cowering in the corner of the room. his eyes are wide with horror and his body shakes with fear.
"p-please, spare m-me. i didn't touch her," he sputters out.
the laugh that follows is utterly humorless. "do you actually believe that makes a difference to me?"
"i told t-them not to hurt her! i swear. that's how i got this." he points to his bottom lip, busted open and swollen. "she even told me she was sorry that i got hurt... that i didn't have to defend her."
this gives sukuna pause and his jaw clenches as he considers what you would tell him right now were you conscious.
so even as every fiber of his being screams at him to end the sorcerer's miserable, pathetic life... he restrains himself and pins him to the wall instead, pressing a forearm to his throat.
"go back to the higher ups. go and tell them that if anyone lays a hand on her ever again, i will ruin them," he spits, venom lacing each word. "i'll slaughter every last one of them. i'll level their homes. i'll take everything from them. tell them this is a promise they shouldn't take lightly."
when sukuna takes a step back, the young sorcerer crumbles to the ground. "i- i- i will."
"then get out of my sight," he growls.
returning his attention to you, his demeanor shifts in every respect.
you're going to be okay. you're going to wake up. he's going to take you home and it will be like none of this ever happened.
but when he falls to your side, his knees meeting the ground so brutally that it cracks beneath his weight, his conviction falters.
your blood is spilt onto the concrete. your skin is cold. he can't tell if you're breathing. he can't feel your heartbeat.
he determines that the gash across your side deserves his attention first and his hands tremble as they move to cover it.
he puts every ounce of power he has into his reverse cursed technique, but your eyes don't flutter and your chest doesn't rise nor fall.
his palms stain crimson, and while blood has never bothered him before, the fact that it's yours forces the bile to rise from his stomach and into his throat.
and his face is wet.
why is his face wet?
why are his lips trembling?
why is his vision blurred?
he wipes at his cheeks, leaving a trail of your blood across his face in the process.
"no," he chokes out. "please, don't do this. you're fine. please, you have to be fine. please."
the king of curses begs, but he has no idea who his desperation is directed toward. maybe it's you. maybe it's the gods. maybe it's some entity that's unknowable to him.
hell, maybe it's just whoever will listen to him. there has to be someone out there, right? something.
unbeknownst to him, and poetic in sorrowful sort of a way, his next pleas are reminiscent of heathcliff's after he learns of catherine's death.
"be with me always"
"stay with me, angel. please don't go."
"take any form"
"hate me for this if you want, for being the reason you're in this mess. you can't hate me anymore than i already hate myself."
"drive me mad"
"i'll read every single stupid romance novel on your bookshelf. i promise i'll play all of your ridiculous card games."
"only do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you!"
"just don't leave me here without you. i don't want to be here without you.
"oh, god! it is unutterable!"
"please," he whimpers.
"i cannot live without my life!"
"you're everything. you are everything. you can't leave me with nothing."
"i cannot live without my soul!"
"i love you," sukuna laments. "i love you."
he doesn't even comprehend the words that have been tumbling past his lips, because they're coming from a part of himself that he long believed to be dead and buried.
it's the part of him that can feel suffering and regret and loss and love.
it's the part of him that you've been painstakingly unearthing whenever you send a smile his way. whenever you curl into his side. whenever you press your lips to his.
and he's so undeserving of it each and every time. he's known that. god, has he known that.
he thinks bitterly of the night you'd walked to the park together hand in hand— when you told him the universe had sent you to knock him down a peg.
turns out you were wrong.
the universe gave you to him, but only so it could take you away too.
and it won't just knock him down a peg. it will fucking destroy him. it will completely and irrevocably destroy him.
this is what he does deserve.
how is it that you can be both his salvation and his undoing?
"i love you," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.
it's ironic that the three words he's never once said in his entire life are the only ones he can manage in this moment.
he hears a quiet sigh escape your lips, but he knows that it's just his imagination— nothing more than the universe playing its final sick joke.
the sun is out and its rays are peeking through the window of your bedroom. sukuna thinks it's despicable.
everything should be cold and dark today.
you're lying in bed half dead and the only thing keeping sukuna's sanity intact is the shallow rise and fall of your chest.
he should go to jujutsu headquarters and deliver a slow, painful death to every single person involved in yesterday's events. then he should turn their headquarters to ash and stand there watching until the wind blows every last bit away.
but more than that, he should be by your side, so that's where he's remained.
it's been nearly a day and you still haven't woken up, so he's taken to performing reverse cursed technique on you every few hours.
yuuji had shoko come by last night and she assured him your body just needs time, but sukuna doesn't intend on taking any chances. aside from the brat, there isn't a single sorcerer he trusts.
so naturally when gojo teleports directly in the middle of your living room unannounced, sukuna moves swiftly to his feet and blocks the doorway to your room.
gojo regards him nonchalantly, hiding his surprise that yuuji is not the one to greet him. "what are you doing... out and about?"
"that's none of your concern."
"right. well, i came to check in."
"that's not necessary."
the two men watch one another carefully, before gojo eventually chuckles. "god, you actually care about her. i guess the whole soul thing should have been proof enough, but i couldn't bring myself to really believe it until now."
sukuna doesn't respond, so the other man continues. "you should know that the threat to her has been... dealt with."
"that so?" sukuna asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
"mhmmm. word of this spread to the three clans and they agreed civilians have no place in jujutsu politics if it can be helped. not to mention your little... messenger. it all caused quite the ruckus for the higher ups."
"i don't think ruckus is enough to deter them." his tone makes it clear that he feels gojo is wasting his time.
"this isn't the heian era anymore, you know. the higher ups may still be the figureheads of jujutsu society, but they have little say when all three clans concur on a matter." receiving nothing more than a blank stare, he adds, "besides, i'm rather fond of her myself, so i may or may not have made certain threats of my own."
sukuna's eye twitches. "anything else you feel compelled to share before you leave?"
"can i at least see her before i go?" gojo questions, peering over sukuna's shoulder.
"if you do not value your life, i welcome you to try."
a sly grin breaks out on gojo's face.
"eager to make good on your promise of killing me from all those years ago?" he pauses, his hand coming to rest on his chin as if he's pondering something of great importance. "as much as i'd love to see you try, we shouldn't wake our precious sleeping beauty before she's ready, so maybe another time."
with that, he disappears, leaving a very irritated sukuna in his wake.
"our," he repeats under his breath, shaking his head. "that unbearable imbecile."
when he turns on his heel, however, the malicious look is immediately wiped from his face because you're awake.
you're awake and peering at him from behind heavy lids.
"hey," you greet in a small voice.
his eyes grow impossibly soft and he sits on the bed beside you, his hand moving to caress your cheek. your skin is warm again.
"hey, angel."
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