summary: you see him a handful of times down by the river, washing off the bloodstains from his clothing and hands. you wonder to yourself how he could look so human in such a monstrous act. once he sees you he can’t get you rid of his mind.
paring: sukuna x f!reader
genre: angst, soft love, little bits of fluff, angst with no happy ending
warnings: blood, gruesome death, talks of sex and taking virginity, character death
word count: 7k+
jjk masterlist
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“Do you intend on staring the entire time?”
The hair on your neck rose, your breath catching in your throat as you hear him call out.
Surely he couldn’t have seen you. You had tried to hide decently well into the background of the forest.
“Your act of concealment is rather pitiful, you know.” His voice disparaged you once more, and from the sliver of opening the bushes allowed you saw him look over his shoulder, staring directly at you as he raised an eyebrow.
“Come out, human.” You, for the first time, hear the real command in his voice, the one that terrified the men in your village, the ones who came back from battle and laid awake at night with it echoing in the solitude of their minds.
You gave it a couple seconds, and when you saw him vanish from the spot he had been near the river bank you panicked, looking around everywhere to see where he had gone.
You felt a rush of air wisp behind you, and you whipped your head around to see a large hand circle around your throat, long, claw-like nails digging into your skin as he effortlessly raised you from the ground.
You felt the voice in your head mock you for your stupidity, the idea alone of spying on the curse everybody feared an idiotic idea. But you were curious, too curious for your own good, and the first time you saw him you were fascinated.
Here he seemed like the monster everybody made him out to be. Blood from his previous victims splattered across his face, red eyes boring into yours as he assessed the person in front of him, large muscles flexing as he turned you around, gawking at you like an animal in a cage.
But the first time you saw him, he drew you in, and perhaps that would be the sole reason for your demise. The sun shone shined splendidly that day, reflecting off the water beneath him, his skin shining bright as he delicately cleaned his dirtied clothes in peace.
You hadn’t meant to run into him that day, but you couldn’t rest seeing him act so human, so normally, after every rumor, you had heard.
You now wish you had listened to them.
“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” He cocked his head to the side, eyebrow perched as you meekly grabbed at his hand, begging him to loosen his grip.
His eyes trailed down to your gaping mouth, eyes widening with the lack of air, and his grip loosed, dropping you roughly to the ground, giving you a couple of seconds to failingly come up on your arms, coughing as you rubbed weakly at your neck, trying to ease to soreness away.
He dropped down to his knees, crouching down at your side as he waited for you to recover, in no rush as you hacked away.
“I asked you a question.” He reminded you and you fearfully looked up, eyes filled with tears as you weakly nodded, your chapped lips trembling in dread.
“Is that a yes?” His lips upturned in a small and taunting smile, his sharpened teeth gleaming back at you as you gulped, clearing your throat as you tried your best to respond.
“Yes, yes,” You looked at the grass beneath you, anything but the figure of death in front of you, “I have been here before, my lord.“
He kept his eyes locked on yours, his look never shifting from one to the other, keeping natural as if to frighten you even more.
Would anybody care if you had been killed out in the woods today? Would anybody come looking if you went missing?
"Is it you who’s been watching me these past weeks?” He asked, and even on the ground sitting in front of you he shadowed your crumpled form, and you wiped some of the slobber from your lips before you spoke again.
“I apologize, my lord.” Your fingers shook far too much, could he tell? Could he see that your blood was freezing under your skin?
“May I ask what’s intrigued you so much to return?” You feel this breath on your cheeks, his nose close to yours as he leaned in, the air in your lungs seizing as you held it all to yourself.
Your fingers itched to grab the small bundle you had brought with you, the one you had failed to give these past weeks.
He watched the movement, his eyes quickly darting over to the small package concealed in a piece of dirtied cloth.
“Is this yours?” He reached over and grabbed it, examining its shabby shape as you meekly nodded once more, your mouth too dry to give him a proper response.
He glanced back over to you, truly studying you. Your clothes were dirty, mud and dirt clinging to your skin, holes littering the soles of your shoes. Your hair was clumped together and nails were outgrown from their beds.
He had been familiarized with the nearby village, having ransacked it multiple times. He knew the women well, their appearances were far more important than anything else. If you were from there it was obvious you were one of their outcasts, if the skin clinging to your bones would say anything.
He kept an eye on you as you coughed again, blood specking the palm of your hand as you wiped it on your pants, embarrassed and more honestly terrified to look at him, opting to gape at the ground.
He turned the lump of fabric around in his hand, weighing it and sniffing it as if to sense what was inside. A foul smell flew under his nose, and he winced as he quickly went to open it, his inquisitiveness taking over.
The fabric was flimsy and wasn’t tied hard enough, falling away as he peeled it back.
Small tomatoes and pieces of lettuce tumbled out, some parts of them molded as they fell to his feet.
“I apologize, my lord, they are not of the best quality.” You explained and he scoffed, taking the small vegetables and squishing it between his fingers, turning back to you as he took you by the collar, lifting it up so that you would be face to face with him.
“Were those for me?” His head tilted again, a small pout overtaking his smile as he watched you struggle to come up with words to say.
“Have you been watching me these past few weeks just to give me rotten vegetables?”
He watched in clear amusement as you sniffled, your eyes squeezed shut as you nodded, hands quivering as you kept them balled by your side.
“Did that really sound like a good idea to you?” His grip on your collar tightened, and you gasp as he lifted you once more, your feet dangling as you tried to get back down.
Sukuna looked at you, the tears welling in your eyes, the tomatoes, and lettuce as his feet looking back up at him as he strangled you, your fingers weakling attempting to grab at his clenching fists.
“I’m s-sorry,” You choked out, “It’s all I h-had.” Some bloodied spit landed on his face and he grimaced, dropping you immediately to wipe it off.
You couldn’t muster up a groan as you felt your ankle crack from the pressure, only having enough strength to try to crawl away.
This isn’t how you wanted to die, not alone and at the hands of the curse of death himself. Not when you wanted to see the countryside, to sail in those things they called ships. Not on the ground of a forest, you stumbled upon one day, your kind heart killing you eventually.
And all Sukuna did was watch the pitiful scene, eyebrows drawing together as he saw your crumpled form sit at the stump of a tree, your ankle bent the wrong way, your eyes barely open as you went in and out of consciences.
Who were you? Surely not a girl of any importance. He would have already bedded you had you been one. You were poor, perhaps worse than that, yet you managed to bring him portions of your food.
Even in the coldest of winters, he had watched the village chief struggle to give up a third of his meals to honor him, yet an insignificant girl like you who obviously needed the wasted vegetables more than anything was offering it to him.
Should he kill you here? Make it painless? It seemed that your health was already declining, your bloody coughs enough proof for him. He’d be putting you out of your misery if he did it now.
But walking towards you, his nails turned into the claws he was so used to, kneeling down once more to your slumped form, he couldn’t seem to do it.
You couldn’t even lift your head to beg for your life, but you tried to bring up your fist that paled in size to his, curling it around one of his fingers as you tried to push him away.
And his nails were right there, right at the base of your throat, ready to slit, but he felt the little bit of heat as you sickly gripped him, the little tear droplets wetting his skin as he retracted his hand.
He stared at the top of your head, watching as your hand fell to your side, your body too weak to keep it up anymore.
And he grumbled to himself, saying things such that he wasn’t fucking enough people and his mind was going crazy, cupping your knees as he lifted you gently up, supporting your head with the palm of his hand as he brought you back to the village.
He could have killed you even then as he was entering the gates, but you had held onto his shirt so tightly that he could barely lift his finger to do such a thing.
—
Keep reading
a lot of you have convinced yourselves that jujutsu sorceres are all traditionally good guys who would yell and scream at anyone breaching moral thresholds but gege has always been clear about this rotten from the inside society catalyzing people's metamorphosis into ruthless and cruel beings, or rather, "monsters."
the whole point of including characters like choso and his love for his brothers was to show that "things" the jujutsu sorceres slaughter are not in themselves unfeeling entities. it is to criticize the idea of jujutsu sorceres being tbe unequivocal heroes, the good guys.
they have to eradicate curses but the process of doing so changes them morally and spiritually, often irreversibly. suguru is seen as a pariah, an outcast, because he takes this to its natural conclusion and becomes "evil", but he is by no means a singular anomaly.
sukuna talked about this hypocritical notion of morality in the manga -“THE SORCERERS OF THIS MODERN ERA HAVE AN INTENSE OBSESSION WITH REMAINING "HUMAN". IT IS THAT HUMAN FEAR OF BEING ALONE THAT MAKES THEM WEAK. THEY SO DESPERATELY WANT TO HOLD ON TO THEIR HUMANITY, CONSTANTLY TELLING THEMSELVES TO HOLD BACK FROM DESTROYING WHAT WOULD BE SO EASILY CRUSHED WITH THEIR OVERWHELMING POWER.”
like woah. to defeat the "strongest" they have to achieve his level by any means whatsoever... it is either a pyrrhic victory for the sorcerers or a moral victory for sukuna. Deeply twisted either way.
Angst | Modern - Soulmate AU | 7k words
Summary : being dead since the 19th century, your 200-year-old house in the countryside had been sold to Levi Ackerman. He stumbles upon your old diary and reads it, only to slowly fall in love with you as he continues to read the pages.
Who would have known love could exist between two people separated, not only by centuries, but also by death itself ?
“ —in the next life, where there is no marriage, but where souls find each other through intimacy, may I attain true love. ”
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“you know you’re a setter when no one understands how hard your job is.”
Some snow scenes in Claude Monet’s paintings.
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― Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous
“I have found both freedom and safety in my madness; the freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in us.”
― Kahlil Gibran, The Madman
― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own
“All freedom is relative—you know too well—and sometimes it’s no freedom at all, but simply the cage widening far away from you, the bars abstracted with distance but still there, as when they “free” wild animals into nature preserves only to contain them yet again by larger borders. But I took it anyway, that widening. Because sometimes not seeing the bars is enough”
― Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous
― Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man
“Freeing yourself was one thing, claiming ownership of that freed self was another.”
― Toni Morrison, Beloved
― Jean-Paul Sartre
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom.
― Maya Angelou, The Complete Collected Poems
― Franz Kafka, Amerika
“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”
― Viktor E. Frankl
― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet
“Freedom is the will to be responsible for ourselves.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols
― E.B. White, The Trumpet of the Swan
“This tremendous world I have inside of me. How to free myself, and this world, without tearing myself to pieces. And rather tear myself to a thousand pieces than be buried with this world within me.”
― Kafka Franz, Diaries, 1910-1923
― John Fowles, The French Lieutenant’s Woman
“And I want to be held down. I don’t know what to do with the horrifying freedom that can destroy me.”
― Clarice Lispector, The Passion According to G.H.
― Franz Kafka
summer 2023 is about reading in bed
“My problem is that I fall in love with words, rather than actions. I fall in love with ideas and thoughts, instead of reality. And it will be the death of me.”
— Unknown (via punksnouis)
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