Chapter Text
Sukuna returned to his estate after his second visit to Gojo with a smile on his face, and a promise ringing in his ears :
A promise of more visits. Of more time spent with Gojo.
And time…
Time was oh-so-precious.
Time was also fleeting.
At least, for Sukuna it was.
He kept a record of each of their visits, writing them down with care and detail. He recounted every detail about Gojo and his beauty. About the kind words he spoke and the command in his voice.
(He’d told Gojo about his writings during one of their visits.
The Deity had looked strangely concerned for a few minutes, before he eventually just nodded and gave Sukuna permission to continue doing as he pleased.)
Sukuna would make the journey to Gojo’s shrine whenever the Deity told him that he was allowed to visit. Usually the time it took was a month in-between each visit. Occasionally two months.
Though, he’d noted with a spark of joy, the time periods between the visits had gotten shorter and shorter in recent months.
Going from a month gap. To three weeks. Then two.
Then, eventually, they saw each other nearly every week.
Gojo wished to see him more often than usual.
It really should not make Sukuna as happy as it did.
Each time he went to visit Gojo, he brought him a sweet dessert. (He’d brought regular food one time, but the Deity had said that he preferred the sweets more than anything.)
Uraume had even begun learning recipes for making homemade sweets that Sukuna could take to Gojo.
(The Deity had personally handcrafted a beautiful, silver crown for Uraume as a way of saying thank you.
And Sukuna was not jealous about it at all.
He didn’t want a crown too.
He didn’t.
No matter how much Uraume teased him about it.)
The weeks passed by in blurs.
Each visit felt like the most wonderful dream. A glimpse into what Heaven should be.
Uraume fussed over what sweets to make. Sukuna wrote down his thoughts and feelings like a young school child with a crush. And Gojo…
And Gojo continued to look at Sukuna like he was something worth looking at. Like he was as lovely as the God claimed he was.
Sukuna was still not as immune to Gojo’s charm as he wanted to be.
He’d manage to stop himself from blushing at every ridiculous compliment that Gojo gave him, but a certain look from underneath those long, white eyelashes always made his cheeks redden.
It was not as frustrating as he pretended it was. (He kind of liked it when Gojo teased and flustered him. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.)
Their time spent together became the highlight of his days. So much so that his terrorising and pillaging ways slowly buy surely toned down to nothing more than myth.
A vague memory of a horrible, bloody past.
Sukuna’s worshippers grew more devout and their numbers grew. It was as if he’d somehow gained some new power that drew people to him.
He wondered if some of Gojo’s magical allure had rubbed off on him.
The thought made Sukuna feel oddly giddy inside – Could it really be possible to carry a piece of Gojo with him like that?
Was Sukuna even worthy of such a gift? (Of course not.)
Would Gojo always think of him as something—as someone worth knowing?
These were some of the questions that were swirling around Sukuna’s head when he got the greatest surprise of his life.
“My, my. Your Shrine is just as melodramatic and morose as you are, little one.”
Sukuna looked up and found Gojo walking up the stairs that led to the Malevolent Shrine, his baby-blue, silk robes trailing like water behind his statuesque form.
Gojo’s voice echoed around the entire estate, though his tone remained soft and unbearably gentle.
The Deity's very essence seemed to erupt from him with each syllable that escaped his lips, filling the cursed grounds with a wave of sweetness and tranquillity.
Somewhere in the kitchen, Sukuna heard Uraume accidentally break a dish.
“Had I known you would be visiting me, I would have endeavoured to brighten this place up a little, Gojo,” Sukuna said in lieu of greeting.
He just took a second to blink, and Gojo was suddenly right next to him, kneeling on a plush, silver cushion right beside Sukuna’s towering throne.
Somehow, Gojo still managed to look like the regal, godly one between the two of them despite being in such a submissive position.
It was truly remarkable. (And a little sexy.)
Sukuna grabbed a maroon pillow from a nearby stool and went to sit beside Gojo, leaving his throne empty.
He had no need to be a Cursed God right now – He just had to be Gojo’s Sukuna.
“There is no need to change anything about yourself for my sake, Sukuna. And I am quite certain that I told you to call me Satoru,” the Deity admonished.
Sukuna grinned and reached over to tuck a strand of white hair behind Gojo’s ear, amused at the small blush that the action inspired from his precious guest.
“I shall call you Satoru when the moment requires it. Your reaction to hearing your given name is too delectable to use irresponsibly.”
The blush on Gojo’s cheeks darkened to red, and he quickly looked away.
(Sukuna had written it down in his books.
On their thirteenth visit, Gojo had told Sukuna that his given name was Satoru and that he should call him that.
Sukuna had simply mumbled the name, testing out the way it tasted on his tongue, and Gojo’s face had immediately pinked with a blush.
His own name made him flustered..
It was unbearably cute.)
“You have come on the perfect day, Gojo,” Sukuna said, pointedly changing the subject. “There are no crowds or annoying humans to deal with. It is only me and my servant Uraume here today.”
“I know,” Gojo said.
He bit his lip and guiltily ducked his head, hiding behind the curtain of his snowy hair.
“As much as I appreciate Uraume's treats and do wish to meet them eventually, I was hoping it could still just be you and I today.”
It was a request. Not a demand.
It would seem that Gojo was softening, just as Sukuna was.
There was the faintest tapping of a spoon against a plate, and Sukuna knew that Uraume had heard the request and would honour it.
Goodness.
Sukuna would definitely have to give them a few more days off this year – They have truly been an invaluable asset in his life.
“It will just be you and I, Satoru,” Sukuna assured.
Gojo, predictability, flushed some more.
It was truly thrilling to fluster a God. Perhaps even more thrilling than defeating a worthy enemy.
Adorably enough, his bashfulness did nothing to stop Gojo from leaning over and brushing their noses together.
Sukuna swore that his entire body froze for a solid ten seconds at the gentle show of affection
(He was undeniable swooning for this gorgeous, dangerous entity before him.
And he had no regrets whatsoever.)
“Just us, Sukuna? You promise?” Gojo whispered.
His sleeve-covered arm wrapped around Sukuna’s bicep, a cool weight against his heated skin.
Sukuna tripped over a shaky breath and bumped their noses together in turn, lingering for a long moment as he stared into those pretty, blue eyes.
“Just us, Satoru. I promise.”