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It was not every day you had guests. In fact, you couldn’t be bothered to open the windows with feigned disinterest but a strained ear and wandering eye. You reside in the woods, far away from villages and up a ravenous mountain. It wasn’t fun having no one around. Not to mention the ridiculous hassle it took to grab groceries from the closest clerk. Just you and four walls holding memories under cold stone.
The decision to completely isolate yourself didn’t come easy— your past extremely dark for a teenager to handle. Only standing at 24, nightmares still cling to your lids at night, cries drowned out by critters singing under the moon. You were completely wrecked. Losing your family was the worst thing that happened to you, and the hollow feeling in your chest seemed never-ending.
So, you left.
You ran from your village, escaping the sympathetic looks thrown your way by your companions. Escaping responsibilities as their new leader, the role far too heavy for a 15-year-old girl. Your steps carried you to the home your father built for safety reasons, knees collapsing harshly on the polished hard wood with enough tears to feed a river. Staying here in the abode with traces of your families touch was comforting in a way. The tears never stopped, neither did the flashbacks of their lifeless bodies sinking to the dirty road, but you felt closer to them in a way. Their energy lingered.
This afternoon, you aren’t alone. An immense amount of power completely shifted the peaceful setting of your residence, a tattooed man now lying still in the built-in infirmary inside of your home. Four arms, four eyes, nine feet tall, muscles big enough to make the roof shake with each swing. You were entirely confused and disheveled, kimono wrinkled and stained with blood from struggling to tug the man inside. It took at least 20 minutes to finally catch a breath.
You heard it before you saw it— an impossible force kicking up debris and wind as an exchange of blows happened a yard away from your house. Terrified of losing the only place you belonged, your voice yelled among the trees and bushes to no avail. You wanted them to move, to take their fight elsewhere so you can go back to the boring routine you inhabited, but your needs failed to be met. Instead, a flash of pink hair obscured your vision before a large body collided with the trees right next to you. The wood groaned and wobbled, leaves unsteady as the trunk threatened to fall on top of your roof.
Instinctively, your hand shot out, cursed energy shocking the roots until the tree went eerily still, silence deafening as the body remained limp. Curious and empathetic, your legs moved on their own, weight shifted in your hips as you pulled his intimidating figure with a groan. You were careful but quick, the silhouette amongst the dust doing anything but disappearing like you wished.
Why couldn’t they do this somewhere else?
Huffing out a breath, your doorstep tickled your ankles before the door shut, the sun no longer burning as your back hunched with deep, heaving breaths. Stealing a glance at the stranger, your chest tightened. He’s scary, but worse, injured. Knocked out cold. Dead to the world, yet his wounds continued to leak crimson and yellow bruises turned purple. Curse your heart. You still held empathy for others even after witnessing the monstrous side of humanity. It sickens you, but it’s not as if you do it all for them. Every person you healed was a useless attempt to have an advantage over the shame you feel on not being able to save your parents.
With little time to waste, you dragged his body to the next room over, the space suddenly tinier than before as he commanded the room from size alone. Your knees ached and a headache formed, but you still hauled him over the bed. White sheets stain with patches of crimson as you clean him up, lip tucked between your teeth in focus. Your fingers trembled, his appearance alarming as your brain worked overtime to jog a memory. He was unfamiliar, yet the description of his physique was unmistakeable. He looked like something out of a mouth-spoken tale, his existence whispered to kids in warning to make them obey.
You couldn’t put your entire finger on it, childhood foggy from suppressed trauma. Bandages wrapped around his abdomen, gaze intense as you took in the rise and fall of his chest. Alive. Breathing. You exhaled, shoulders sagging as you stepped away to clean yourself and the bloody trail he left from the entrance to the infirmary.
***
Sukuna didn’t know where he was. His sides ached, and the room was illuminated by a lamp light tucked in the corner of the blurry room. Sitting up sent a sharp pain down his middle, scowl immediately in place as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. This wasn’t his shrine. Two of his eyes lingered on the bandages— now bloodied and in need of replacements— suspension crawling down his spine. Oh?
Before he blacked out, he sensed a different cursed energy that wasn’t in the war.
“Tch.”
The sound echoed in the dark as memories flooded to the front of his mind. He was seconds away from killing all of those fools if it weren’t for him being overwhelmingly outnumbered and getting distracted by a voice heard in the distance. Your energy… it was powerful. Different from any of the people he’s been around. His vision swarmed before he could completely put his finger on what it is he felt, the sound of the tree against his back cracking before everything ceased to exist. The last one standing was stronger than he thought. Still, he knows he can defeat that mortal. He just needs to get out of here first.
The soft patter of footsteps makes him freeze, that familiar energy he sensed closer, but contained. Ears perked up and eyes locked on the doorway, wood creaks as you emerge through the doorway, a tray of persimmons in hand. Hot, steaming tea, water, baked goods from sweets to buttered bread and crackers, fruit, herbs, and a damp cold towel. Once your eyes meet his attentive ones, your spine straightens, breath hitching at the scrutiny in his gaze.
Something in you told you to turn around and never look back. Leave all of this behind and don’t bother with an explanation. His eyes are a fiery red, his stare cold but heat radiated all around his body.
Your heart hammered against your ribcage, fear gnawing in your gut, but you sauntered forward anyway, the tray hitting the bedside table with a soft thud. Clearing your throat, you gestured to the tray of goods with a wave of your hand, the action awkward as the silence scratched at your neck. You haven’t had company in years. Any interaction you had was brief and surface level, but this? You took it upon yourself to save a stranger. An evil looking one at that. He deserved at least an explanation, but the words keep dying on your tongue as he pierces your soul with all four eyes.
Sukuna hates the thought of being in anyone’s debt. As far as he can remember, before he became the being he is, debt caused people to act cruelly. He has no room to talk from his own heinous actions, but the tray of food didn’t rub him in the right way. What was your motive? Was it poisoned? Your awkwardness made his eyebrow raise, confused on why he hasn’t killed you yet. You didn’t even have the decency to bow.
”Um.”
Your voice caressed the silence, tone gentle enough to put a baby to sleep. You were sure he had a headache, and he seemed the type to run on a paper-thin temper. The temperature rose to your cheeks as your gaze dropped down to your wooden house shoes. Everything was picked out carefully on that tray, careful not to place anything unappetizing on the display that you did not arrange for ten minutes. The man was a stranger, it was natural to be a little timid with offering whatever you had in your kitchen. You tried your best, and these would have to do.
“Get rid of it.”
His voice rattled the space between you, the rejection cracking the premise of your thought out speech. Mouth slightly parted in shock, you look up to see his arms crossed, body language completely closed off. You straighten up, the dip in your expression lighting up his own. Rude.
”I’m sorry?”
You knew what he said. Heard him loud and clear, but audacity clung to your skin this afternoon it seems.
”Don’t make me repeat myself.”
The room chills as the octave drops in time with your hope. Fingers twitching, fists form as you grip onto your kimono, a deep emerald green clinging onto your clean skin. Warmth fails to come to you, the thick fabric only weighing you down as his brusque nature hits you with full force. You weren’t expecting much, but being met with anything but kindness still made you uneasy. Conversing wasn’t your best skill, so you’re helpless right about now.
”You’re injured.”
A brow lifts, his expression sending embarrassment to your heated face. You looked like an idiot. Pointing out the obvious was annoying, a pet peeve of Sukuna’s. Time was ticking, and the vein right at the side of his temple was noticeable in the dim room. If he killed you now, at least you did a good deed before disappearing. He made no move to respond, the read on his face enough for you to continue, spluttering for a coverup to your foolish actions.
”You must replenish your energy.”
Sukuna couldn’t tell if he should take offense, your voice void of any authority and too soft to consider disrespectful. Still, it was a demand wrapped up in suggestion, your uncertainty reeking with everything you do. You held so much confidence in your element— bandages placed sturdily against his tarnished skin, a trace of cursed energy lingering from the brush of your fingers. Now you’re meek. Brave, but meek nonetheless. He could’ve healed himself, regenerating his body second nature to his natural strength, yet you insisted on healing him. On helping him as if he was distressed. The thought makes his eyes flare in irritation, eyes cutting to slits as red bores into your skin.
“You dare tell me what I need to do?”
You sucked in a breath, lips folded inwards as you choose your next words carefully. This was off to a rocky start. It’s not as if you were looking forward to receiving gratitude and celebration. If anything, this isn’t outside of what you anticipated. Still, he was terrifying. The man commanded your entire home after just waking up hours after a fight you’re sure he started.
“I didn’t mean it like that…”
He ignores your weak attempt of redeeming yourself, eyes flitting over to the cooling tea. The steam curls now a little thinner than before, the scent calming to both of your senses. Contemplation crosses over his intense crimson irises, hand reaching out before stopping, fingers still before his stare carries back over to you. The hair at the back of your neck stands in alert, body jumping in surprise as he gives your figure a once-over with lazy sadist.
”Take a sip.”
He’s sure you poisoned it, the instinct to not trust stronger than ever. He watches you, eyes focused on anything you do that’ll confirm his suspicions about your unprovoked kindness. The smirk on his face falters as you immediately grab the silver, tiny spoon. Metal hits porcelain as you stir the aromatic liquid, the dark color coating the spoon before disappearing in your mouth. You swallow with a hum, posture relaxing slightly as the heat soothes your muscles.
You couldn’t help but to feel a little smug, heel turning to face the tattooed man once more with a new light in your eye. He’s quiet, pondering on whether he should remove that look on your face by exercising you once and for all, but the motivation wasn’t there. Strange. Instead of painting the wall red, he glowers at the sight, lip curling in that permanent scowl once more.
”Don’t get cocky, woman.”
His berate didn’t instill fear in you, his fingers brushing against the fragile mug only filled you with satisfaction. He holds the delicacy with surprising tenderness, large hands encasing the small dish comically. You stay like this for a moment— his sips checking in on the silence every once in a while. You roll on your heels, restless as questions race from who he is to what occurred earlier outside. Wondering was natural, but you still held yourself back from intruding in on his business. You didn’t want him to think that you wanted anything in return, and he could still kill you.
He doesn’t bother to speak, his attention no longer present as he peers back to his shrine. Uraume should be fine, they’re reserved and level headed. They can handle things until he’s up and running again— which should be later on tonight. Still. His eyes moves back to you, standing restlessly, pupils wide and filled with a curiosity that wasn’t greedy. He can’t help but to form questions of his own. Did you not know who he was? What he is capable of?
His train of thought is cut off as a stool scrapes against the floor, a silent curse falling from your lips as you clumsily pulled the seat up to the bed. Not too far, not too close, but enough to invite possible conversation. Sukuna thought you were stupid. Anyone else on earth wouldn’t even give him a second glance, his appearance enough to make bystanders take a wide berth and pray for someone to take him away by the grace of God. He feels irritated all over again. Why were you doing this? He couldn’t find it in him to care for a drawled out explanation, and he fails to believe anything anyone says, but maybe he could get something out of this.
“What are you called?”
Your voice holds more volume, vibrations steady against the room as if you fed off of his confidence. Now he was interested. He could show you better than he could tell you, watch the blood seep out of a clean cut aimed at your throat before you register the taste of doom. It seems your tastebuds were dead anyway, you invited the most dangerous man inside of the place you lay your head at. Instead, a slow, cruel smile spreads across his lips, skin cracking from the lack of moisture. The corners of his lips are too sharp in alignment with his canines glinting in the light, warmth stripped away from the nauseating sight.
“Ryoumen Sukuna.”
Recognition flows through you, tongue clicking as your brain eased from being on edge. The unknown was killing you, the familiarity annoying and nippy every time your gaze lingered on the added limbs to his body. You can’t forget the mouth on his stomach. Thankfully, it didn’t budge when you were up close and personal— you’re sure you would’ve passed out right beside him from shock. What followed next was a hum, head nodding as you embraced the rumors and stories you heard as a kid. They went in one ear and out the other, always disregarding anything that wasn’t of interest. You were a child, and serious things never collided well with an adolescent mind, so it was easy to tune everyone out. Maybe you shouldn’t of. Only embers remained.
”King of Curses.”
His smile freezes, not because you knew, but because of how laidback you were about it. Your hum wasn’t dismissive, just accepting. That didn’t sit right with Sukuna. Usually, people would scurry away from him, limbs taught with alert. Eyes wide and frantic, searching for something, anything to get the monster away from them. Scream. Cry. Plead pathetically to get him to pardon their family. You stayed put, pupils lidded and relaxed as you rake over the bandages that were in desperate need of change.
“You speak as if I am irrelevant.”
You couldn’t miss the way his eyebrows furrowed, an indignant pout on his pink, plump lips. A laugh threatened to bubble out of you, his sharp features sticking out harshly in the little space you shared. His bulkiness makes the bed incredibly small, a subtle movement forcing a groan out of the old railings. The air is cool around you, his body heat simmering against the breeze falling through the window, thin glass and curtains barely keeping the wind tasseling the trees outside.
Absentmindedly, he grabs a plum, juice running down his chin as he takes an angry bite from the sweet tang. Crimson watches the way you think, every thought expressed in the rise of your brow. An open book, you were. Sukuna saw the way your chest convulsed, lips pursed shakily to contain your amusement. That only made his disdain deepen. The nerve you have. The fruit disappeared in three bites, tongue darting out to clean the waste in an animalistic manner. His tongue is long. Too long to be considered human.
”I need to replace your bandages.”
His nose crinkles, the underlying concern distasteful to the King of Curses. Despite your strong cursed energy, he believed your humanity made you weak. Human sentiment does nothing but get mere mortals killed, and you were one of those creatures with a heart that weighs you down. Foolishly brave. He already regenerated, a faint scar the only proof to what occurred a few hours prior. Felt forever ago, the room ridding of rational time the more you sat together. His tongue clicks as he watches you silently ask for permission, the supple in your stare aggravating. The pinkette could’ve easily dismissed you, told you no, but you were an insistent little thing. Still keen on caring for the embodiment of violence as if he was a paltry hospital patient.
Under that harsh feeling, he found that fascinating, but he would never admit it.
He grunts, back settling on the headboard as a rough invitation, eyes filled with something different. It felt teasing, your cheeks heating at the way he traces your every step. His stare was impossible to ignore, the ferocity of his existence something you think you could never get used to. It’s not as if close proximity was new, you had no problem tending to his wounds earlier, but now he’s awake. Aware of everything you’re doing, and he’s openly unabashed at the way his ogle spikes your pulse.
Your delicate fingers traced over the bandage, pressing slightly on the injury with a tentative look towards Sukuna’s way. He didn’t budge, and you took that as a sign to continue. His muscles flex under your touch, sparks jolting down your arm when his warmth encased the tips of your chilling digits. Your shallow breaths interrupted the silence, a tension cradling the atmosphere the longer your skin met his. His luxurious robe hung off of his body, discarded and forgotten as you zero in on the rise and fall of his body. He’s sculpted perfectly, muscles humongous and hard just like the walls he built over the years. The ultimate weapon.
Unwrapping the bandage, you released a breath you were unaware of holding, skin practically smooth underneath the dirtied white. Your face flushes, hand going limp as the bandage falls silently on the hardwood floor. He’s perfectly fine. He knew he healed himself already, but he let you wander further into the lions den. Only to look like a fish out of water. Sukuna is the most powerful curse to walk— regeneration isn’t a surprise, but that didn’t flash across your mind at all. Too focused on playing the nurse role.
”Oh.”
You squeak, his smirk too malicious to be considered warm. He reveled in the way you kicked yourself mentally, one pair of his arms crossing across his chest in mockery. To avoid the humiliation, you picked the bandage off of the ground with a huff, back turned to him to throw away the last piece of evidence of his ruin. Completely unguarded. Idiotic. Sukuna doesn’t let you live it down, no. A deep, dark chuckle cracks through your inner turmoil, spine going rigid at the sound before you turn towards him sharply.
”Checking up on the King of Curses. How noble of you.”
The sarcasm laid thick on your shoulders, the glare aimed at him harmless with the heat on your cheeks. Still, his own circle of fire flared, a show-off of power and natural malice. Stepping back, you round over to your seat, hands fiddling in your lap as you take in the starry night sky, moon glowing through the large window. You’re no longer needed. You never were— this was entertainment for him— but the reality settled in your chest with a coldness that mortified you. A retort settled on your tongue, only for it to dissolve right as your lips parted. You were too comfortable. It’s as if a part of you believed that he wouldn’t kill you, no matter what you do. And that was dangerous. This… fantasy-like exchange ripped reality out of you, the monster settling into something less predatorial.
You could be so, so wrong, his retreat following up with your corpse rotting inside of your own home. The possibility of that ending wasn’t the worst, body exhausted with a yearn for your mother’s hugs and kisses once more. Alarm bells failed to ring in your head, and the absence of your rationale could be the result of your downfall.
”Well.”
His brow raises, that meek version of you washing the last trace of confidence you gained away with one, smooth sweep. He didn’t like it, gut churning in a nasty way. His expression darkened, your actions a vex to his short temper. The brush of your fingers still lingered on Sukuna’s skin, a tingle rattling his bones with an unfamiliar feeling. It was uncharted territory— this fluttery, light solicitude. It made him sick, and the thought of finally bringing death upon you no longer stood as a solution. Instead, it felt troublesome.
”I’m sure you’re ready to depart… I can show you the way out.”
The disappointment seeped through the suggestion, octave falling at the edges. He notices. It’s hard to miss the way you avert his gaze, fingers tangled in front of you as if it’ll ease whatever this feeling is. He needed to get away from you, but the tarnished organ underneath his ribcage begged to differ. His joints pop as he stretches, arms filling the space with an ominous shadow from the size of each bicep. Thick, olive toes wiggle as his legs flex under the duvet, a groan ripping out of his throat. Blood rushes back into his idle body, the floor vibrating once he hit the ground. Now vertical and at his full strength, Sukuna loomed over your frame. His shadow covers you from head to toe, the moon vanishing behind the boulder of muscle and height.
Your eyes widen, replicating saucers as your feet fall behind you. He’s smug, shoulders squaring, muscles flexing, eyes carefully watching the way you study the movement with something close to awe. It’s a miracle how you managed to haul the beast inside of your home. The pride settling in his chest deepens his smirk, the air still around his god-like physique like a snake waiting to strike. In response, you stammer, body stiff as cardboard as you turn on your heel, not before he saw the cute blush on your a face, way more violent than before.
His weight overpowers yours, footsteps shallow in comparison to his loud, thunderous ones. The outline of his body was even more menacing as you passed by candles and lanterns illuminating the pathway, the door not too far from your patter. He looked out of place in the small gap of the halls, shoulders almost tickling the stone walls with each switch of his hips. The knob felt cold against your palm, the chill a stark contrast to the warm candles ventilating heat inside the house. You tried not to let your shoulders hang like they wished, his head dunking at the doorway to step out to the abyss barely humorous as loneliness started to creep in the corners of your mind.
He doesn’t leave immediately, neck craned to stare at your dejected form. The steady rhythm of his heart falters, smirk fragile as that weird feeling comes back up again. His face falls, fists clenching as he prepares to fight the unknown. You were completely oblivious to the battlefield in his mind, weight held up by the door as you slumped against it with a faraway gaze. He was angry. More importantly, a small part of him didn’t want to go.
”Little healer…”
His voice vibrated, the sheer power of it snapping you back into the present. You straighten up automatically, the four of his eyes narrowing as you smiled softly in wait, a mask placed carefully over the open book you just were.
“Do not use your skill for unworthy causes.”
Then he turns and disappears into the night, leaving you confused in the song of chirping insects.
***
Ever since that day, you find yourself missing his presence. Logical parts of your mind screamed at your heart, reminding you of him being a monster, but you were so wrapped in the company to the point where it didn’t matter what he was. What he is. If anything, curiosity nagged at you. What caused for him to abandon his humanity entirely? You were no exception to his wrath— you saw his arm lift multiple times, ready to bring your misery to an end, but it never came. And that drove you insane. Name calling and rumors wouldn’t help you understand anything, so you naturally embraced the wicked creature he is overtime.
Sometimes, an unbearable itch occurred when you stepped back into a populated area. Your mission was simple— grab necessities and leave, but one time you lingered, a question about Sukuna simmering at the tip of your tongue to the usual person you buy delicacies from. It all happened too quickly— a hey falling from your lips before your brain could catch up and tell you no. His name instills fear in anyone at a hearing radius, and you’re sure you would’ve received a nasty look from bystanders and the only human you actually interact with. Even if it’s a few words.
You left in a hurry, blood rushing in your ears as your legs carried you through that same path you always took back home. That time, you didn’t notice the ache in your calves, only the hot, white embarrassment flowing through your body.
The same, boring routine continued, steps turning into slides as your slippers dragged across the hardwood. As time passed, you convinced yourself that you’re crazy. A mindless woman who has been tucked away for far too long. Sukuna still stayed in your thoughts, the emptiness of your home louder than the ludicrous steps he produced. He was an unshakable force, surprising you greatly once he walked away without making your heart stop. It still amazed you, and you often caught yourself feeling grateful for waking up the next day. You took it upon yourself to extend your wings a bit, smiling at passerby’s whenever you dressed up and entered town. It was small, but exhilarating. Many looked at you with shock, until their own lips spread with welcome. But no amount of talk and pretty greetings replaced that powerful presence you reminisced about once your head hit silk pillows.
***
You started to see shadows. In the night mostly, but the evenings convinced you that it wasn’t all in your head.
At first, it was easily dismissed, the corners of the dark usually serving illusions to any peering eyes. The curtains aren’t really drawn anymore, the natural light of the sun and moon immediately boosting your mood. Being around others raised your happiness a little, a slight bounce in your step as you walk. The ache of loneliness became hollow, several sources of entertainment bringing life back to your skin. Sun bathing, counting the stars, having conversations with women and children. Everything around you seemed to gain more hue, the color reflecting onto the pastel colors you begin to wear. Something held you back in admitting you were happy, the question of your well-being from associates you picked up often met with an ‘I’m okay.’ It wasn’t a lie— you felt better than you could ever imagine— but Sukuna. He hasn’t disappeared from your mind at all, and you often wondered if he will ever be back physically.
You were sweeping late afternoon, a figure outside of your window in the trees startling you. The broom clatters, frantic steps leading to the window with a sharp, narrowed gaze. It wasn’t fear this time, no. Just aggravation. Whoever this is was hellbent on bothering you, and you had enough. The door slams open with a force unnatural from your usual, gentle demeanor. Nostrils flared and shoulders taught, the grass rustled beneath you, the wind biting at your skin as if trying to hold you back. You prevailed, the silhouette suddenly disappearing from your line of sight. Huffing, you stand still, ears twitching for any sound that’ll give anything away to consider you victorious, but nothing came.
You turned on your heel, prepared to retreat, until gravity suddenly became intense behind you. It’s as if the space bended backwards, the air knocking out of your lungs from the different, but familiar energy. You freeze, disbelief evident in the way your head refused to turn.
”Foolish as I remember.”
The powerful rumble was indubitable, a frightening warmth spreading down your spine. Sukuna.
A crack resounded in the dark as you turn with inhuman speed, the stars in your eyes resembling a puppy reuniting with its owner. The sight made him grunt, lip curled in distaste, but he allowed you to move closer. He tolerated you, as much as the admission frustrated him. His duties back in his temple were met with the same efficiency as before, but you haunted everything he did. He found himself thinking about your whereabouts, much to his dismay. Uraume probably noticed, court meetings with him on the throne brutal as ever, but he wasn’t actually there. Just performing as king until tranquility consumed his chambers once more.
His thoughts drove him mad, so mad that the sun scorched his back as he watched you navigate through the small, but boisterous town. He stepped out of his own reverie to watch you quietly, irked at the way he couldn’t control his urges. He stayed hidden, choosing to let you exist freely, even when his feet twitched, itching to let his presence be known. This went on for weeks— body stationed outside of your home or whatever place you were content on visiting throughout the day. He told himself it was out of boredom, the nonstop documents serving as melatonin to his tense muscles. Even his brain wasn’t convinced, arguments occurring from multiple voices about the creature. He absolutely hated you. That’s why he loitered outside of your home once you returned, back turning once the lanterns darkened and invited the monsters Sukuna already fought off from presence alone. Pure hatred, indeed.
You stare up at him, muscles vibrating with contained adrenaline as he stands tall and unbothered. You couldn’t find words— trees rustling as a compromise for your stunned silence. He’s actually here. He came back. Something in you was certain that he never left, the feeling of being watched belonging to his eyes. Either way, you were over the moon, the response no longer strange as satisfaction pulsed under your wrists.
“Sukuna.”
His name oozed like honey from your lips, his breathing rattling at the way you freely addressed him. His eyes slant in warning, yet the violence never comes, just a hum acknowledging your awe. He’s still as a statue, two arms on his hips as the other two cross over his chest, gaze anything but warm as he ogles you. You felt like prey under his scrutiny, but not the dangerous kind. Something was different— tender dare you say— in the way he stared at the baby pink robes wrapped around your torso.
”You didn’t forget about me.”
A tick formed, his frown deepening. Not from your lack of respect, but from you being right. You were a human. A creature beneath him who had nothing to offer. Yet he’s here, entangled with the forest path that leads to your home. A beat passes, your lips curling into a smile as his stare intensifies, his temper just as short as you remembered.
”Don’t let it get to you, brat. You’re an infestation.”
The insult is dodged, your laughter touching a part of him he loathes. That starry look brightens as if he didn’t degrade you, the energy between you electric. Neither of you speak on it, content in being in each other’s proximity once more. You face your home, a glance thrown his way in a silent invite. The night air was getting stronger the more you stayed, time descending in tandem with the dropping degrees. His boisterous steps brought a chuckle out of you, the sound fulfilling instead of annoying.
You really did miss the King of Curses.
The door clicks behind your bodies, vanilla scented candles sending a sweet smell in the air. Sukuna stands, his size brooding in the small space that usually only occupies your much smaller body. The snort comes uncontrollably, a hand covering the bottom half of your face in shock. His gaze moves from the fire to your blushing face, a glare so menacing you would be dead if looks could kill.
“What’s funny?”
You purse your lips, plump skin flattened by the labor of trying to compose yourself. Instead of coming up with a poorly thought out lie, you turn your attention towards the kitchen, the lingering smell of food overpowered by the candles.
“Would you like some food? I cooked.”
He studies your face, glowering at your aversion.
“I am a cannibal.”
Oh.
You clear your throat, the amusement on his face deepening your blush as you side step the abandoned room full of pots and pans. Your patter carries you to your bedroom, baby pink flowing behind you with each sway of your hips. He follows, crimson memorizing the decorations of your home as if it’s his first time here. He never really got the chance to look, too unnerved by the strange feeling you gave him every time his eyes stayed on your figure for too long. You were a problem. A fly who was hard to get rid of, mostly because that dumb organ in his chest didn’t allow it.
Once his head ducks under the doorway, your arms flail out, sheepish as you show off the space you retreat to once the day becomes tiresome. He observes everything— the picture of your family on the bedside table, thick silk sheets on your bed you could barely afford, flowers plucked carefully from the garden not too far from here. It was utterly, annoyingly you, and being in the room that reeks of who you are made the tips of his ears gain a red hue. He couldn’t stand you.
”I’m sure your chambers are way bigger.”
Rubbing your neck, you fall onto the bed with a thump, the space ten times smaller with him in it. He commands any and every room, his aura unapologetic and palpable. He stays standing, a hum reverberating in his chest as his eyes rake over the walls for the third time.
”They are.”
No gloating, just the truth. And that caused for your expression to drop lower. A sound comes from his throat, too rough to be considered a laugh, but the corners of his lips twitch with a quickness. It was gone before you knew it, but that warm feeling remained. He opted to sit in the chair, the silence deafening as you enjoy that familiar pressure he carried around. The crickets and birds were louder than ever, but the ambiance remained, until you catch Sukuna eyeing the poetry on the table.
Interest crossed over his features, bringing a smile out of you from the walls of his exterior slowly shifting. His guard was still up, his body fighting with his mind to succumb and relax, but he’s a soldier. A monster. There was no room for weakness, even if you threatened to bring the past of his human nature front and center. You didn’t even try to, his body just reacted, and that was the biggest conundrum he has ever faced.
You shift on the bed, kimono riding up your legs as your fingers clutched the book full of withered papers. His gaze immediately drinks up the smooth of your skin, throat tightening as the thin shine of moisturizer on you hits the light just right. He’s suddenly starving, the meal he ravaged in his belly turning to dust the longer he stares at the exposed flesh. He feels the mouth on his stomach open, tongue lolling out savagely as if you were in proximity to satiate his hunger. He didn’t want to eat you, this famine was different. Hankering. His fingers twitched in his lap, the desire to have you all to himself overpowering than ever.
And you were completely unaware, a triumph-like sound escaping your lips as you sit normally, the tattered book in your sticky palms. He forces himself to calm down, the rise and fall of his chest heavier than before even though he’s been sitting the entire time. He felt idiotic. Weak. Human. It made him angry all over again, his thick, calloused fingers snatching the literature out of your hands to bay the brewing storm in his shoulders.
”Hey!”
Your protest was met with a glare, a pout on your lips filling him with sick satisfaction. The book cowered in his large palms, his thumb flipping through the pages with more interest than you anticipated. He’s actually reading. You expected him to skim through the intricate sentences condescendingly, the written form of human emotions turning him off. But, the sight made you fall silent, his gaze focused with the intention to understand. You stare openly, eyes warm as he fully immerses himself in the book you’ve grown to memorize, the indent of your care imprinted on the bridge of the cover.
It felt intimate watching him like this, and your heart jumped in your throat. You excused yourself, legs resembling jello as you recall the sharp edges of his relaxed expression. He didn’t flinch, a small glance your way telling you that he’s aware of your departure. Deep in thought, you walk into the kitchen, the heat failing to deter you as the kettle settles on the furnace. He looked gorgeous. He’s the epitome of beauty behind the madness, that unguarded look in his eye opening up pools you’re sure to drown in. This was all wrong. Wrong and intoxicating. You couldn’t believe yourself.
The kettle wheezed before you knew it, the herbs placed carefully inside of the two porcelain mugs swirling as hot water sloshes over the white and blue design. You blink, palms slapping over your cheeks as you mumble to yourself. Get it together. You’re a grown woman fully capable of doing anything you wished. There’s no need to get all constipated over another man. The King of Curses, but still. The soft pitter-patter of your feet made your shoulders drop a little, calamity left in the kitchen as your room came into view.
Sukuna’s in the same place as before— book up to his face, red piercing through the words as if they’ll jump out at him. The crick in his brow is more evident, making your head tilt in silent question as your hand extends toward his hunched-back figure with the steaming cup. He peers up at you, fingers brushing over your own as he dominates the hot porcelain. You blush and sit, quickly masking the smile trying its best to settle on your lips by taking a sip of the aroma.
”Here.”
His rough voice startles you slightly, eyes moving over to where he angles the book to your vision. He’s irritated, eyes rolling as he gestures towards the words on paper. You lean forward, the poetry immediately clicking in your brain from absorbing the content countless times. Reading it out loud instead of explaining makes his lip curl, the book groaning under his vice grip. The laugh that comes immediately after is free, hand coming up to run over his knuckles so the fragile pages doesn’t crumble under his fury. You both freeze, his eyes snapping to yours with a look unfamiliar to the usual glances sent your way. You retract your hand, an apology jumping off of your tongue with frenzy.
”I’m sorry! I didn’t-“
His tongue clicks, interrupting your turmoil as a hand shoots out to stop you from bowing. That slight fear he noticed made his chest clench, the haunted look in your eye coming from overthinking. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want you to walk on eggshells with him— he noticed that the couple of times you peered up at him upon the first meeting. The book sits in his lap, forgotten and worn out as you breathed deeply, knees bending as you slowly descend back on the bed.
He picks up the book without hesitation, eyes on you, waiting for you to do what he ask. Explain the cursive puzzle on the paper. He couldn’t find it in him to give a damn about informality— he would rather you be comfortable than have his ego stroked. You were confused. The touch barrier has been broken since you treated his wounds, but this time was voluntarily. In the moment. Natural. And he didn’t seem to care. In fact, his fingers drummed against the cover page, the extension of him restless to feel the warmth you exude again. Of course, he wasn’t going to admit it, but once your hand rested above his to observe the letters closer, his own inched up to feel the outline of your nails, gaze roaming lazily over the page.
You didn’t speak on it, and neither did he. The drop of his shoulders told you all you needed to know, and you took that as the initiative to move closer, art in word form occupying the distance between you as he listens attentively.
The night carries on, tea going cold as the jolt of electricity comes back in full force, comfort warming both of your tranquil bodies illuminated by the lights sat carefully around the shared space. Company charged you completely, the ability to finally have someone at your side bringing that feeling of emptiness to an unfathomable end.