Work Text:
Itadori Yuuji, is by all means. A rather bland girl.
Her hair is short, choppy. Like an impulsive 3:00 a.m. decision she severely regretted after more than four hours of sleep. Often clipped back by blue and yellow pins that clashed with the peach-hue of her hair, her teeth, when Itadori smiled that idiotic, chipper smile. Were yellowish, stained by energy drinks and sugar. There was a slight gap between her front two buck teeth that she pushed her tongue through, like the juvenile she is.
Her body is nice, but certainly not as nice as the women who surrounded her. Kugisaki's chest is well rounded and large, unlike Itadori's that's more flat. The Zen'in sisters are curvy with small waists, while Itadori is more square, shaped by lean muscle than by female puberty.
Her nails are tricolored — pink, red, purple — and always chipped, her clothes baggy or sporty when not in the female Jujutsu uniform, her eyes large are unpainted and unbrushed by mascara or eye shadow. But framed by thick eyelashes.
Itadori Yuuji was nothing in comparison to the passionate, fickle nights that Ryoumen Sukuna had spent with women in the past. Women with large breasts and legs for day, with manicured nails to rake down his back and daintily wrap around his cock, to sit by his side and shamelessly press themselves into him for attention he'd give to soothe that primal itch that every man has.
Yet.
Sukuna wanted Itadori Yuuji almost as much as what he spent his life cultivating for: power.
To say he hated her at first would be inaccurate.
How could you hate something so insignificant? So underneath you? You don't hate an ant when you crush it with your heel. When it's dead, reduced to a small splat not visible to the naked eye. It's simply because you did not recognize the ant as anything worthwhile to consider.
Itadori Yuuji is the same.
She is a means to an end, a body he will soon discard. The fact she can suppress him is irritating. But this cage is only a slight hurdle in the road — he'll soon be released, he'll get that boys body. And then eventually his own again.
He would forget about her as soon as he wasn't constantly reminded of her. Sharing a body made it hard to ignore someone no matter how hard you tried, Itadori's voice echoed in his domain, her memories seeped into his. The things she saw, he saw too. Sometimes willingly and sometimes not.
This proved to be troublesome, in a way Sukuna hadn't ever anticipated. Caught off guard and blindsided by the raw primal sun that was Itadori Yuuji.
His infatuation with her is something consuming and meteoric. Sukuna loathes it, loathes the way her gentle morals lay on him like sparks of a fire. How in the end, no matter the blood or corpses thrown at her feet. Itadori sticks to her principles, broken, changed, born anew in ash. She accepts the facts in front of her — that humanity is cruel, disgusting and unforgiving. All the things Sukuna knew from birth.
Yet she still believes there are good parts, too. Kindness, compassion, sincerity.
And she is proven correct, again and again.
Sukuna watches, he loathes, and he wants.
He drags her down into his Innate Domain.
Itadori Yuuji sinks in the pool of blood, dazed. Confused, her fingers scrabble for purchase but they are denied it by the red pool that was not truly wet but still cold, oddly textured. And made her shiver.
Sukuna lounged from his throne. One leg crossed over the other that he lightly kicked, chin resting on his open palm. Counting the seconds until Yuuji realized where she was.
"Sukuna." Yuuji tenses, when she gets her bearings but with no sparking recollection. Amber eyes glare through her pink bangs at the bottom of his pile of bones. He finds it amusing how her body snaps to a fighting position, shoulders set and fists clenched. Yuuji is anticipating a blow, but unsure to dodge or attack first. Her stance is wholly improper and easy to overpower.
Sukuna smiles, stands. And begins to walk down.
He could blitz in front of her — he's much faster than her, faster than she'll ever be. Appear behind her before she realizes and crush her in his arms. He would like that. Feeling Yuuji uselessly buck and squirm like a worm pinched between index and thumb, the way her heartbeat would thump in desperation. Primal fear making her weak and sloppy. He couldn't kill her real body. But he could flay the flesh of her metaphysical one until she could no longer scream, only whimper and take it. Wet eyes pleading for a mercy that won't come.
But he likes it like this too — Yuuji's attention pinned on him and his descent, punctuated by the deathly silent Innate Domain echoing with each creak in the bone from his footsteps.
They meet, and he towers easily over her in this meager form. Without his four arms and massive height, Sukuna's imagination drifts — she is so small now, reaching barely to his chin. He would surely dwarf her even more if he were in his prime. Hold her in one hand and marvel at how fragile she is.
"What do you want, Sukuna?" Yuuji snaps. When his silence stretches too long and he has only been staring, she's blushing. He realizes, she's blushing and she looks ethereal in the red mist of his domain.
His arms that had been crossed now unthread themselves. The sleeves of his kimono pooling at his elbow as Sukuna lifts his hand to the air — Yuuji's eyes snap to the splayed fingers, wary, anticipating.
His finger tucks a piece of pink hair behind her ear. She flinches, he smiles. The domain seems to breathe around the two of them, inhaling and exhaling like a warm mouth.
"Just to look at you."
Then Sukuna kicks her from his domain, and Yuuji wakes up with a strangled gasp. Wondering if it had been a dream — because in what world, would Sukuna give her the time of his day?
She slumps back in bed again, pink hair haloing the pillow. Exhausted more than she was before, there's a buzz in her skin. On the side of her head, it must be from the dream. One of those vivid, odd dreams.
Yuuji's nimble fingers trace the shell of her ear, sleep making her eyelids droopy and heavy.
It feels like fire.
He feels the change in her body. The imprint of his soul on hers. Sukuna can almost imagine it — her soul in the palm of his hands. Warm, bright, squirming as his own coiled around her like a snake. Binding them together beyond vow or body.
"You're too pretty for this." Nobara seethes. Perfectly plucked eyebrow twitching as she looked into Yuuji's closet in her dorm.
"Uh." Yuuji looks helplessly from the door the other girl had barged through to her pile of clothes that was now strung all over the floor. Obnoxiously vivid colors like orange and yellow, her uniforms, a seemingly never ending supply of hoodies. "Sorry?"
Nobara's glare could cut stone. She whirls, bob flying dramatically and whipping her chin. The teenage girl plants her hands on her hips and stares at Yuuji with such intensity she felt the need to hide her head like an ostrich. "We are going shopping."
Again, Yuuji can only say: "uh." Before she's dragged out and she is dragged into clothing stores.
A lot of them.
"But I like my clothes." Yuuji whines when they're in the third store because the last two had been deemed outdated and horrendous, Nobara picks things off the rack and holds them up to gauge whether they'd go good with Yuuji's skin and hair color. What doesn't is discarded like trash, and what does is thrown over her forearm.
Yuuji eyed the heap of shirts and skirts and dresses and shorts with a sense of doom.
"Do you? Actually?"
"Well I-" Yuuji fumbles, sticking her hands into her yellow hoodie's pockets to hide the way she fiddled nervously with her fingers. Nobara only hums, leveling her a look.
"That's what I thought."
"I just… really don't know how to dress."
"That's why big sister Kugisaki is here," Nobara says with an air of vanity. Once satisfied with her pile of clothes picked out, she chases down an employee that looked like he'd rather be literally anywhere else, and forces Yuuji inside a changing room.
"And don't come out until you've tried every piece." Her muffled warning comes through the door. Yuuji's mouth opens, but Nobara beats her to the punch again. "Yes, even the bras."
And again after a considerable pause. "And if you say just owning sports bras is all you need I'll kill you!"
Yuuji flushes a ruddy red down to her shoulders, sighing. But unable to keep the fond smile from quirking the edge of her lips.
And begins undressing
Unbeknownst to her, the small scar-like slits underneath her eyes, open a silver.
And Sukuna watches.
Watches as Yuuji lets the hoodie and shirt pool on the little bench in the dressing room. How she shimmies off her shorts, and wonders if her hips had always been that wide — her ass that fat with the thighs to match, too.
Yuuji pulls off what must be the "sports bra" and Sukuna vows that when he is in his own body again, he'll make sure to rid the world of them.
Her breasts are small. Pale and untouched by the sun, They would fit in each of his hands and leave room for more. Her nipples are rosy buds, soft, hardening in the chilled air. Sukuna thought about pinching them in his fingers and rolling them until she's flushed and squirming.
Yuuji sighs at herself in the mirror, examining the red lacy garment in her hands, and he considers burning that, too. Until she clips it on.
It pushes up the mounds of her flesh, makes them more perky and accentuates the upper swell. It's a deep crimson, blooming against her skin beautifully as blood did in the snow. Sukuna forgives its crime of obscuring her breast.
He watches as Yuuji examined herself in the mirror, deftly tracing the curve of her bra. Feeling the texture of the lace, she absentmindedly twisted her torso. Biting her lower lip in thought. Yuuji doesn't verbalize it, but the feeling is intense enough for Sukuna to understand: attraction, satisfaction.
She cycles through the clothes, trying on all the bras. (He dislikes the white, blue, and yellow, she seems to think so too, but keeps the red, black, and pink). Placing them in piles he assumes are "buy" and "don't buy."
Next comes the other pile of clothes; the shirts that hug the curve of her waist, or expose her midriff entirely. Some even exposed what little cleavage she had, the fabric thin and wisp-like, Yuuji looked more like a ribbon to be untied in those.
Then the shorts so tiny that the cleft of her ass hung out and skirts somehow even tinier, but highlighted the strength of her thighs.
Sukuna has half a mind to be scandalized that women in this generation showed so much of their skin. But he doesn't ponder on that long. Not when his mind turns, and there is Yuuji in his daydreams, as she always is these days. By his side, hair done up with jewels and elaborate braids. In a delicate kimono, pure white to a brooding crimson. He thinks of her neck exposed, coveting it with his palm. Yuuji looking up at him with adoration and awe.
Perhaps when he returns to himself he will keep this Kugisaki girl as Yuuji's lady in waiting. A few guided directions, and he's sure her nimble fingers would have Yuuji looking like the empress he'll mold her into.
"Well?" Nobara bangs against the dressing room door, both Yuuji and Sukuna jolt. And he must make conscious effort for the second set of eyes to not snap open.
"I-I-I'm coming! Sorry!" Yuuji starts to undress herself to put the shapeless, frumpy soft shorts and hoodie back on. And oh yes, Yuuji will never touch those again when he gets his body back again—
"Did you like them?" Nobara asks impatiently when Yuuji exits the dressing room. Flustered at the things she'd worn and the things she liked. Nobara's foot taps on the ground, as quick as a rabbit. And she peers over Yuuji's shoulder to the clothes she did not like and the ones she evidently did, as they're in her arms.
"Yes! I mean, some felt… a little too exposing." A skirt so short that one wrong move would have exposed Yuuji's panties to the waiting world. Sukuna would have enjoyed it for a personal show. And he would pluck out the eyes of anyone else who saw her in something so revealing. "But I did like a lot of them!"
"Well, it's a start, next I'll teach you how to do makeup." Kugisaki nodded with approval, envisioning the doll that Yuuji now apparently was to her. Then the girl grins, as blunt as her hammer. "And exposing isn't always bad, I've seen Fushiguro looking at you. You know."
"I-" Yuuji twists her fingers in the heap of clothes in her hands. "Oh."
Nobara only laughs, thinking Yuuji is flustered.
Both girls miss the peek of red from those slits.
I've seen Fushiguro looking at you. You know.
There is a thread of vulnerability that Yuuji cannot control. Strung between consciousness and the unconsciousness of sleep. That is how he drags her down into his Innate Domain at night, like how an unruly child snaps back the neck of their leashed dog.
But tonight is different.
I've seen Fushiguro looking at you. You know.
Black ink manifests around Yuuji's wrists in bands, and crimson eyes blink open slowly as Sukuna takes over what little control he can. Yuuji's dorm room filled his vision, though it is dark. He can see her accumulation of things she called "trinkets." And the poster of that American woman Jennifer Lawrence.
Yuuji sighs, nuzzling into her pillow. None the wiser.
The manifested mouth on her palms smile.
Sukuna explores slowly, grazing over the skin of her hard tummy. Traces the outlines of her abs, drifts down her hips. Yuuji wiggles, when his-her fingers teases a spot that's ticklish on her rib cage. But the girl still remains fast asleep. Dead to the world, really.
Sukuna's breath hitches with barely contained glee, and the hands he controls slide up her baggy shirt. Finding the swell of her small breasts.
He starts to tweak at her nipples. Pinching the small buds, darts out his palm-mouth tongue to leave a scalding hot trail of spit. Yuuji's face twists, and Sukuna half expects her to wake up from the new sensations. Because Itadori Yuuji had never been touched.
Until now.
But to his surprise, to his utter delight. Blushing pink lips open, and let out the softest moan.
He isn't sure whose arousal it is that spikes, his, or hers. The lines of them was starting to become blurred, tangled.
He knew she felt it, too. How much of her had become Sukuna's and much of him had become hers.
Sukuna continues his exploration. Careful not to bite because the brat would wake up, settling for licking stripes over the swell of her breast as he rolled her erect nipples between thumb and index. He thinks of taking them in his mouth — his real mouth, swirling his tongue in a way that made her back arch and mouth fall open. He thinks of them swollen with milk, swelled larger than they are now with a taut and big belly. Almost disproportionately funny in contrast to her small body.
Children didn't interest Sukuna in the slightest. But oh, the proof, the claim. Itadori Yuuji walking around with his seed in her womb, that is enough to make his nonexistent blood thrum. For the hand he controlled to slip down her newly acquired panties, thanks to Kugisaki.
Just for a taste.
The flesh of her cunt is soft, untainted. He slips a finger between her folds and the reaction is instant — a soft noise slips from Yuuji's lips, eyelids fluttering.
She remains asleep, and Sukuna purrs. Taps her clit and delights in the spikes of sensitivity. He doesn't expect that the girl will last long — but that is fine. He'll have all of eternity to take her apart, unravel her from skin to bone.
Yuuji spreads her leg, so accidentally helpful, giving Sukuna more leeway for his tongue to lap at her mound, hot, slow. Yuuji gasps in her sleep, hips wiggling with inexperience but chasing friction. He chuckles lowly, plays with her breast and circles her sex, wishing he could feel the strength of her muscled thighs wrapping around his head in ecstasy. Have those expressive eyes stare up at him as he took all of her firsts and pushed inside, the proof of his claim being her blood on his cock.
Yuuji grows wet her by his touch, perhaps by his fantasies spilling into their connected souls. Soft mewls slip from her full lips, pathetic. But addicting to Sukuna as he spreads her folds with two fingers and swirls his tongue over her clit. Yuuji's juices smear the palm of her hand — his mouth — sticky and sweet. Sukuna moans, moans just from the taste. Degeneracy and famine.
He's eaten beasts whole while still fresh from the kill and feasted on gluttonous emperors, but none has ever tasted so delicate, so delicious as Yuuji's cunt.
He could stay here for hours. Drinking her sex, wave of orgasm after orgasm. Like he does now, wrapping his lips around her clit and giving a harsh suck, cruel and unforgiving. Yuuji moans without restraint, breath hitching on a choked out cry.
It's a wonder the girl doesn't wake herself up with her own moans, gasps, and mewls. She's soaked her thighs completely and the sheets under her thick ass. Sukuna smiles into her glistening pussy, pressing a fond kiss to it then flicking his tongue over her swollen clit.
Yuuji hips find rhythm on their own, grinding down on his flattened tongue. He chuckles as the teenager begins to chase her finish.
Satisfaction, even something like pride. Swells in Sukuna, at feeling her so depraved. Yuuji, wild, debauched and selfishly seeking her own pleasure. It was just the start — how he'd break her down.
Her moans come in short puffs as he lets her seek her climax. The bed creaks with the roll of her hips, and Sukuna sucks on her nipple with his other mouth, his teeth dig in her breast. Not enough to leave even the hint of a mark, but enough to satiate the need to sink ivory teeth all the way in.
Perfect Sukuna thinks, as he felt Yuuji's climax approaching. You are perfect.
When Yuuji comes, it is with her hips arching off the bed and a silent scream. Pleasure rushes through Sukuna too — hot, heady, and thick. He feels the sensation of spilling in his kimono, the pound of a heartbeat he technically doesn't have. And his Innate Domain rumbles — the overcast rib cage bones dancing as the red blood rippled.
The black bands fade around her arms and Sukuna feels himself crash into himself, like waking up from a dream where you're falling. Yuuji mewls, whines. Seeking his presence now that it's retreated inside of her like a viper.
Sukuna almost coos.
Yuuji plays with her food at breakfast absentmindedly.
There's still heat in between her legs, begging for a phantoms touch. She had been mortified this morning to wake up feeling gross in between her legs and finding the evidence of apparently the worlds most sexiest wet dream ever.
And for some reason, her boobs were really sensitive this morning.
Yuuji had quickly showered, thrown her blankets in the washing machine. And came to make a breakfast that tasted like cardboard on her tongue.
"Itadori," Megumi's voice makes her jolt. The dark haired boy was always quiet, but she got used to his presence. Even at times feeling it like second skin, he was always there. Attentive, almost protective even. Especially after Sukuna had ripped out her heart.
"Oh, Fushiguro-kun." Yuuji leans back a little in her chair. Fushiguro always looked relatively annoyed, but today he seemed almost… emotionally constipated. His indigo eyes were jumping around, and he looked like he wanted to hide in the collar of his shirt. "Is everything okay?"
"I just wanted to-…" he trails off, and Fushiguro Megumi has never blushed. Not in front of her, not until now. "I just wanted to let you know that I heard you, last night."
"I-" pink eyebrows knit together, trying to piece together his absent words until it clicks in the most horrifying of clicks. "Oh my god, Fushiguro-kun! I'm so sorry!"
"It's fine." He waves, but there's a tremble in his hand. "I just wanted to remind you that the walls are thin."
"Noted." She whines, wanting to set herself on fire.
"And-" oh god there's more. But Megumi doesn't seem as constipated this time, but instead bound by curiosity. The kind he shouldn't be. "You kept saying a name?"
"I did? I don't… I was asleep."
"Oh."
"Yeah." Yuuji really, really wants to die. Like, call the higher ups and tell them that they can execute her ASAP. "S-sorry again, I'll uhm. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."
He waves her off silently, Fushiguro Megumi has hit his word limit for the day.
Inside his domain, Sukuna plots.
He pulls her into his domain, again and again and again. Until Yuuji doesn't question it anymore.
Just as intended, leaving the trap open and inconspicuous. Sukuna indulges her, answers her questions about the Heian era. Plays into her little fantasy that she can change him, show him a different path. And fill in the gaps of sorcery that Six Eyes left void and empty. Endears her to him, teaches her to listen to him.
Not binding vows, though. Sukuna purposely leaves that small well of information hidden.
With each visit, they mix more. Until Yuuji confidently explores his Innate Domain like it is her very own. Laughs in his face when a particular jab strokes his irritation without fear. And always asks that one question:
"Why did you bring me here?"
And he always has the same answer:
"I told you, just to look at you."
Today is no different.
When Yuuji manifests in his domain, she manifests in front of him. Blinking because the disoriented feeling had long since worn off, it's not good to smile warmly at the King of Curses. But she can't help it.
She's happy to see him
And he is to see her.
They go through their routines, Sukuna speaks freely of his previous battles. Yuuji tells him fondly of her childhood. Her voice faint and reminiscent, her tongue would curl beautifully over poetry and he cannot wait for the day he lounges for leisure and she speaks it aloud to him. Sukuna has learnt of Wasuke, what little she knew about her parents. The things she loved and the things she hated — she has sweetly given him everything he needed to know to make the gilded cage she'd remain in, forevermore.
"Sukuna." Yuuji says, and he knows that this is it. "Why did you bring me here?"
She is expectant of his answer, said in that same tone that had been brooding and amused to soft and… not kind, Sukuna hadn't been that in all of this. But something special, carefully weaved just for her.
Today it is different.
Today, Sukuna curls his fingers around her neck. Threads his fingers in the spool of pink hair, Yuuji's eyes widen slowly. As if she cannot discern if this is real or all the times she convinced herself that it was dream. Her chest stills with the breath caught in her lungs, and Sukuna does not look away from her. Does not allow her to look away, either.
Not that she ever would, Sukuna had made himself too prominent, too centered. He was hers and she was his. There was nothing else to it, not anymore.
"S-Sukuna."
"You wanted to know? Didn't you?"
But Yuuji had to be the bridge, to make that choice. So when the hated herself, it was at least in the contents of his arms. Dressed in silk and jewels.
"Yes…"
"Then let me show you."
Their lips catch in a tender kiss, brief and almost nonexistent. Sukuna pulls away, one hand on her neck and the other cupping her cheek.
Yuuji stares, eyebrows knitted. Fingers touching her lip.
When she deems it not enough, Yuuji jumps to her tip toes. Wrapping her arms around his neck and pulls Sukuna down for another kiss.
"Yuuji." Megumi's vision swims in his eyes. There's blood, sticky and metallic. Trailing down his face and his head — his everything, really. Throbs in agony, they'd been in that watery domain — then that strange man had come, broad and black haired with a delight for killing. Then the blond guy, then the summoning ritual that should have- should have—
But it didn't matter, at least for the moment. Megumi stands on shaky legs and feels relief bloom in his chest, making the agony worth it all as Yuuji stood in front of him, relatively unscathed.
Silent.
"Yuuji?" He questions, tongue working oddly in his mouth and tasting of smoke. Megumi blinks, his surroundings coming to. The world around them is reduced to nothing more than rubble, smoke, there's a sea of wails. Faint but consistent, it twists his stomach.
Yuuji cocks her head, bangs pushed back and hair wild. Maybe it's the curve of the moonlight, but she seemed older. Her round nose and jawline sharpened.
"Are you okay?"
She smiles, except it isn't her smile. It isn't her teeth that are more like fangs, it isn't her joy that crinkles in the moonlight. Eyes blazing red.
"I've been doing fairly well, all things considered." She answers. With a low garbled voice, it sounded like a distorted radio, dropping in octaves and rising in pitch. The air grows thin in Megumi's chest, as he realizes who he is looking at.
And who is looking back.
"But I'll be perfect, here soon." Sukuna extends his hand. Megumi can only watch, pinned in place by exhaustion, by fear, by the girl he thought cute and kind. "You just need to do one thing for me."
Sukuna grins, but it is callous and cruel. "And for Yuuji."
When Yuuji wakes, it is to silk and blood. She's dressed down in clothes she wasn't before. Without needing to examine them closely she can recognize they're traditional Japanese garb, and that this room is doubtlessly unfamiliar. Artificially welcoming, even with the confusion and sleep still prominent in her mind, Yuuji knows she's not welcome to leave.
"Good morning, little love." A low timbre that rolled like thunder.
Yuuji's fist curls, but she relaxes into the body settling behind her, feeling the tug of her soul to his.
"Welcome home."