Archive of Our Own

Yuuji had really thought that they’d had a chance to defeat Sukuna. He should have known better when Gojo-sensei had fallen. If the strongest couldn’t take down Sukuna, then why did he ever think that a mishmash group of teenagers could do it? Maybe it was because Gojo-sensei had believed in them when no one else had. 

He’d been stupid believing in such delusions. 

It was too late to do anything about that now though. The regret and the guilt would wash over him in due time, but until then, all he could feel was a spreading numbness. It was a cool wave that started in his fingers and toes, buzzing along his nerves until it was all he felt.

The destruction from the battle was massive and widespread. There was hardly enough left standing to recognize the city as Tokyo. Sukuna had touted himself a calamity. It hadn’t been hubris; if anything, it was a humble description. Yuuji didn’t know if there was a single word big enough that could encapsulate all that Sukuna was. He was devastation in its purest form. A force of nature with its own category. The carnage wrought by tsunamis might have held a flame to Sukuna if not for the fact that Sukuna wanted ruination, craved it, thrived in it.

Yuuji was on his hands and knees. He could feel gravel and rubble digging into his palms and the rough scratch of uneven ground against his fingertips. He was in reality—in the physical world—despite the shallow pool of red that ebbed and flowed around him, and not the nightmare he wished it to be. It soaked his pants and the ragged, torn edges of his sleeves. A broken water pipe had flooded the area and had begun to wash away the copious amounts of spilled blood. It swirled away in diluted shades of red.

The broken, dismembered bodies of his companions were strewn about. Some corpses were twisted, mangled messes; others were little more than piles of offal. It was easier to recognize some, harder for others, though he knew them all. Of those that had come to face Sukuna, only Yuuji remained. He felt as broken and mangled as the bodies around him, pulled inside out so the shiny, wet red of his insides glistened on display.

It was Shibuya all over again. He didn’t have enough tears left in him to shed though, no voice left to scream with. He dug his fingers into the ruined street, knuckles straining under the force. The skin came away from his fingertips like tissue paper. His nails snapped like toothpicks. They were bright spots of pain that faded quickly back into the numbness.

Dirty, bare feet appeared in his line of sight. Yuuji could see the delicate, bird-like bones shifting beneath skin. The nails were black. Pale purple-blue veins carried cursed blood. One was pronounced on the right foot, appearing from beneath the arch, running over and across the foot, and then wrapping around the jutting ankle bone to disappear beneath a ragged, dirt-and-blood stained cuff

A large, rough hand brushed over his hair until the palm cradled the entire back of his head. He could feel the heat sinking into his scalp. Fingers curled and nails scraped, scratching. His hair was pulled tight and then taut and then his scalp was screaming with abuse as he was lifted. The pain was sharp, stabbing and relentless as he was lifted further and further. He could feel strands breaking free.

When his knees left the ground, Yuuji feared that his scalp would separate from the rest of him, pink hair and all, to leave a gleaming white skull on display. The image had him lifting his hands to grip the thick wrist, alleviating enough of the strain that he no longer feared scalping, though the pain remained, dull and pounding, threatening a headache that would cross his eyes.

He was lifted until he was eye level with Sukuna. The curse, or cursed object possessing Megumi—if his soul had even survived the battle—or the resurrected curse user or what-ever-the-fuck Sukuna was now, studied him with blazing scarlett eyes. He wore a thoughtful expression on his face, brow furrowed and bottom lip pinched between two fingers.

Yuuji was expecting a hand or three to be laid on him and to find himself in neat, uniform square centimeter pieces on the ground, so when Sukuna released his hold, he wasn’t expecting it. His legs crumpled under him, ankle twisting unforgivingly and knees smashing back down against the street. Bloodied water went up around him and he fell against Sukuna’s legs, cheek pressed to Sukuna’s thigh.

“I’ve decided that I’m not quite done with you yet, brat.” Sukuna squatted down. A hand went to either cheek and lifted his face so that he was gazing up at Sukuna. The sun had begun to peek from behind grey storm clouds, unaware of the devastation and destruction that had been brought down upon the ruined city. Sukuna eclipsed it until the golden-white rays were a perverse halo.

It was like looking at a horrifically beautiful chiaroscuro painting. Sanguineous eyes drew his focus like a splash of colour on an otherwise dark canvas. Within their depths, he found only despair.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a pet.”

The red ropes around Yuuji’s wrists chaffed and rubbed the skin around the bone raw, his fingers prickling with pins and needles. He pulled on the rope, the small bells attached to it tinkling and the paper charms swaying with the movement. His arms strained, but the rope held where it was anchored by a ring in the wall overhead. Yuuji collapsed back down on the bed beneath him with a loud, growling exhale. The silk sheets clung to the sweaty skin on his back and where they’d wrapped around his legs from his earlier thrashing.

The clatter of the bedroom’s door sliding open had Yuuji tensing, hands fisting back into the rope overhead. He watched as Uraume pushed a small cart, reminiscent of a meal cart, into the room. Behind them, Sukuna’s large frame filled the door like a malevolent shadow. He had to duck to enter the room as he trailed behind Uraume. He looked bored, as if he had something better to do than share the same space as Yuuji. The top set of arms was crossed over his naked chest while the lower set hung loose by his sides. Yuuji could hear the swish of Sukuna’s hakama with every step.

Uraume brought the cart to the side of the bed where it would be level with his hip while Sukuna walked around to the foot of it. As he passed behind a bed post, Sukuna shifted forms, taking on the appearance he’d had when he’d been Yuuji’s passenger, though he remained in the black hakama.

Yuuji flicked his gaze first to Uraume who paid him no mind, their hands clasped before them, and then between the cart and Sukuna. Laid out on the cart’s surface were tiny pods of black liquid, a long stick that appeared to be made of bamboo, silk string, and numerous needles of varying gauges. There were small squares of white gauze stacked in short towers and dollops of clear gel. All of the instruments were set on a sheet of medical paper. All appeared new and unused.

With a bow, Uraume excused themselves, leaving the cart and closing the door as they back out of the room. The door shut with a snap, making Yuuji flinch as if struck, which set the tiny bells tinkling once more. Sweat prickled at his hairline and on the back of his neck. A tingling began in the back of his arms as he turned his full attention on Sukuna who remained standing at the end of the bed.

Sukuna’s hands were curled over the short footboard, his black-tipped claws dancing along the wood in sharp beats. Yuuji lifted his eyes to Sukuna’s face and was met with a knowing smirk. If Yuuji could have spit, he would have just to see that smirk fall, but he knew he’d only end up spitting on himself, which would serve to further amuse Sukuna.

“I’ll offer you this only once,” Sukuna said, his smirk widening to a sharp-toothed smile. “We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way. I so hope you choose the hard way.”

Yuuji swallowed hard, throat bobbing, as he flicked his gaze to the cart and then back to Sukuna again. Hands still fisted in the ropes, he subtly pulled, testing the strength of his bonds once more. Sukuna’s widening smile told him that the small action hadn’t gone unnoticed, though the chiming bells and swaying charms would have given him away anyway. He looked like the cat that caught the canary: assuredly smug in the knowledge that he would get what he wanted.

“What is it that we’re doing?” Yuuji asked as he pulled on the rope again. He slid one leg back until his foot was planted against the bed. He didn’t bother with subtlety when he tried to leverage himself free from either the wall or the rope. He wrenched on the rope in short, firm jerks.

Sukuna’s smile stretched further. It was too wide, threatening to split his cheeks, and looked painful where the skin was strained. His nails gouged lines in the wood as he curled his fingers. Thin strips of the wood curled and fell free, as if they’d been planed. “You’re so often a disappointment, brat, but I will give it to you: I am delighted you’ve opted for the hard way.”

Yuuji didn’t register Sukuna’s movement until pain flared bright in the ankle of his extended leg. If Sukuna hadn’t broken the bone with his grip, he was close to doing so. The tips of Sukuna’s nails slipped beneath his skin like filet knives, anchoring his grip as blood welled and spilled over onto the sheets in rivulets of red. 

Yuuji lashed out with his free leg, but the kick was blocked with ease. His leg was gripped up and pinned between Sukuna’s arm and ribs. He hauled on the rope, attempting to use it to pull himself free, but Sukuna held tight. The pinned leg felt as if it’d pop right out of his hip socket if he pulled any harder. His other leg felt as if a red-hot fire poker had been slipped beneath his skin as Sukuna’s claws sliced deeper into his flesh and muscle.

Sukuna reeled Yuuji closer until the muscles in his arms and the joints in his shoulders, elbows, and wrists started screaming in pain. 

He wondered what would give first: his hips, his knees, his shoulders, or his wrists? Which joint would dislocate first and send a shot of blinding pain racing outward? It’d be like hollow needles filled with liquid fire were wedged between his joints as his tendons holding everything in place tore free.

Sukuna maneuvered Yuuji until his legs were pinned down with his hands pushing against Yuuji’s thighs just above the knee. It was a threat. He met Sukuna’s gaze. A dark pink eyebrow quirked upward and Sukuna shifted forward until Yuuji’s knees bent backward on the edge of too far. Discomfort and spikes of pain stabbed at him. He tried to pull himself away and, when that didn’t work, Yuuji began to thrash, twisting himself from one side to the next

Their small struggle, however, had Sukuna leaning over the bed and his legs, bringing him closer to Yuuji. It’d be a risk, but it was one Yuuji was willing to take in the event it worked out. He fisted his hand and curled them to hook onto the rope in hopes it’d be less likely he’d be degloved, and pulled with all his strength. He yelled as the threat of something ripping loose increased, but then he heard Sukuna snarl and felt himself slide toward the headboard an inch.

It was enough.

Before Sukuna could pull him back, Yuuji flexed his abdomen and lifted his torso from the bed. Sukuna had been forced onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress. It made his weight on Yuuji’s legs unbearable, but Yuuji could ignore it for another moment.

With minimal windup, Yuuji tilted his head back, puckered his lips, and then flung his head as much as he could toward Sukuna. 

Spit landed against Sukuna’s left cheek, splattering in a thick glob. Yuuji was interrupted from watching its slow descent over Sukuna’s face when the curse broke his knees.

The scream he let out was surely heard throughout the compound. It was as if long, metal prongs filled with fire and electricity had been pushed through the center of his kneecaps. The pain radiated outward and, as Sukuna lifted his weight away to settle back on his heels, his legs spasmed. Muscle bunched, tensing, before releasing, and his legs shivered and twitched as his body fought to reduce the pain. There was ice in his ankles and hips and goosebumps broke out over his body. Breathing through the pain was like trying to breathe with waves crashing over his head. Every breath he did manage to take was a whistling gasp.

His shuddering body caused the bells on the rope to dance merrily, as if caught in the wind. Their song reminded him of being at a temple in better times and was a distinct contrast to the situation Yuuji found himself in. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He definitely wanted to scream some more.

Yuuji struggled to get a hold of the pain and compartmentalize it. He dug his nails into his palms to try and force himself to focus on something else. He squeezed until the pain there was sharp, bright, and wet. He used the pulsing pain in his palms to time his breathing until he could get in through his nose and out through his mouth.

He opened his eyes to Sukuna taking a seat on his thighs. It jostled his legs and the pain in his knees threatened to overwhelm him again, but he continued to concentrate on his breathing. He dug his nails into his palms a little more for good measure.

“Get off me,” Yuuji said through his teeth. A muscle twinged in his jaw, but Sukuna remained where he was. In fact, rather than give Yuuji any answer, he simply leaned to the side toward the cart, collecting the bamboo stick, the silk, and a few of the smaller gauged needles. 

With deft fingers, Sukuna tied the needles into a tight grouping and then tied that to the bamboo stick. He was careful with how he arranged the needles and bound them to the wood. They were flat and fanned out in two rows, one right on top of the other. Appearing satisfied with his work, Sukuna pressed the needles against his thumb until blood beaded. He moved his thumb back over the cart and coaxed more blood to flow until his thumb was heavy with it. The blood, infused with cursed energy, began to drip from it and Sukuna aimed so that it fell into the tiny wells of black ink.

When he was done, the small injury closed up with little fuss and Sukuna wiped the remaining blood in a slash across Yuuji’s chest. He then dipped the needles into the inkwells before moving the needles back to hover over the skin of Yuuji’s lower abdomen. Sukuna’s left palm came to rest heavily on Yuuji’s body, the thumb curving upward to cradle the stick held aloft in his right hand.

Yuuji’s breathing increased until it was short and rapid. His abdomen jumped and twitched as he waited for Sukuna to begin tattooing him.

“If you don’t stop breathing like that, you’ll fuck this up,” Sukuna said, head bowed so that he could focus on the task at hand.

“Fuck off,” Yuuji spit back at him.

The needles lowered to his skin and Yuuji sucked in his stomach to get away from them. He pulled on the rope and tried to buck Sukuna off, but with his knees destroyed, all he did was reignite the pain that plagued him. The pain threatened to knock him unconscious and black stars burst in his vision. He was gasping again and the fucking bells were tinkling once more.

“Tsk, tsk,” Sukuna reprimanded. He pulled the needles away and then set them aside on the bed next to Yuuji’s hip. “We can’t have that. I thought long and hard about how I’d put my mark on you, boy, and while a collar would be so much more degrading, I can’t risk you trying to remove my claim.”

“You don’t own me,” Yuuji snarled through the pain. He bared his teeth at Sukuna like a cornered dog.

“Oh,” Sukuna said as he grabbed Yuuji’s chin in an unforgiving grip, “but I do. You’re my pet now, and that means I can do whatever I want.”

Sukuna slid his hand up until he was cradling Yuuji’s check. He tried to twist away, but Sukuna placed his other hand on Yuuji’s face. He held Yuuji like that, gentle at first, but the grip tightened the more Yuuji struggled. He could feel Sukuna’s nails digging into his temples and in the soft spot behind his ear. He felt when they pierced the skin, not unlike when he’d dug a nail into an apple, a soft pop through the flesh and then into the meat.

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,” Yuuji chanted as his head was held, the pressure building. He wondered if Sukuna meant to crush his head like a watermelon, pink juices and grey matter spilling from the cracks, but then his head was wrenched around and bone snapped like a gunshot.

His vision went black and his entire body went numb. Every sensation was lost and it was like he was floating in a sensory deprivation tank, except it was more like the deepest depths of a blackened ocean. He was free floating without an anchor. It was impossible to tell what was up and what was down. A slow, steady burn in his lungs after an indeterminable amount of time built up. His lungs were an empty grocery bag, incapable of inflating. He was drowning—no, suffocating. The urge to breathe was there, right there, but no matter how hard he focused on it, tried to force it, nothing would come. 

Yuuji had time to take for granted the involuntary ability to breathe when another sensation washed over him. It was dull, muted, but felt as if he had been submerged in a warm bath after having been in the cold. It stung, but it was comforting, something he wanted to lean into and lean away from.

As quickly as he’d lost all sensation, it came rushing back. The light blinded him and he sucked in cool air. It was a relief on his burning lungs and he sucked in another, and another. His body trembled and he noted his knees were no longer in agony, though there was a phantom pain there that reminded him of what had been.

His body was tender and sensitive. The rasp of Sukuna’s hakama on his skin was like sandpaper. The warmth of Sukuna’s skin against his was too hot and too intimate.

“Let’s try that again. I want you paralyzed, not unaware.”

Sukuna’s hands found his face again and Yuuji tried to shake him off. Panic made his heart beat like a butterfly’s wings. He twisted his wrists ‘round and ‘round to try to free them from their bonds. His heels beat against the bed and his hips bucked.

“Wait, wait, waitwaitwait!” Yuuji said, one word slurring into the next.

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep trying until we get this right,” Sukuna said, nails sliding beneath Yuuji’s skin again, as if he was going to be flayed. The threat—the promise—was said as if it was supposed to be a grotesque comfort.

Yuuji screamed, the sound ragged and torn like cloth slashed by daggers, as Sukuna twisted his head and neck once more, and the sound of bells followed him.

The room was locked and reinforced by Uraume’s cursed energy, carefully crafted charms, and ancient spells written in blood. Despite the fact that the exterior facing wall and both doors were shoji, Yuuji couldn’t so much as dent the thin, translucent paper.

Not that it would matter even if he could break out of the room. The iron manacle interwoven with bespelled red rope around his ankle was long enough to allow him to take a few steps out of the room, but no further. It was anchored to the wall over the head of the bed as his previous bonds had been. He’d have to chew through his leg if he wanted to escape and he wasn’t alone often enough or long enough for him to perform such a feat.

He hadn’t even had enough time to bleed out when he’d slashed his wrists in the tub before Uraume found him. They healed him, wiped away the blood with gentle hands and a softly reprimanding tone, reminding him that he was Lord Sukuna’s and it was improper for him to damage Sukuna’s belongings. Then they’d left.

That was a few hours ago. Other servants had peeked their heads in since Uraume left, both humans and curses, but none dared to enter and none stayed after confirming Yuuji was still alive.

A knock sounded, three quick raps of knuckles against the wooden frame of the door, and then it was sliding open. Uraume was the only one who bothered to knock, a polite warning because they were coming in whether Yuuji wanted them to or not, but they were not alone.

A short train of curses and humans filed in behind Uraume. They weren’t servants. Their clothing was too fine and their heads were raised too high. Many wore traditional Japanese clothing, though a few wore more modern clothing. Yuuji had shopped enough with Nobara to recognize the clothing was expensive. Stolen, no doubt, from the luxury department stores around the fallen country.

If nothing else, Sukuna had been efficient in the downfall of Japan and the rise of his own empire. It had been but a few short weeks since the defeat of the sorcerers in Shinjuku, though it felt like months to Yuuji.

It was clear early on that no help was coming. Japan was on its own, an isolated island once again, hidden in the mists of the seas.

Uraume led the train of Sukuna’s retinue and retainers until they were a half moon around the foot of the bed Yuuji sat cross legged upon. They each wore varying expressions from confused to amused. None showed pity but there was plenty of contempt and, Yuuji was surprised to see, more than one green with envy. Their gazes raked over him, studying every exposed inch of him, which was all of him. He hadn’t been afforded clothes since waking up in the compound. If he’d been shy about his nudity before, he wasn’t now.

The door snapped shut and Yuuji turned to find Sukuna in his original form walking across the room toward the bed. The urge to push himself away from the reincarnated human-turned-curse was almost overwhelming but Yuuji tamped it down, shoved it away as he lifted his chin and met Sukuna’s blood-red gaze defiantly. He gripped his knees tightly, fingers pressing bruises into his own skin.

“Uraume tells me he found you damaged,” Sukuna said as he stopped at the side of the bed. He didn’t acknowledge the room full of humans and curses. He spoke like Yuuji was a thing.

Yuuji lifted his chin further and fought down the snarky words that threatened to spill from his mouth. Like the fact that Sukuna didn’t seem to care when Yuuji was damaged when he was the one inflicting said damage. He swallowed the vitriol that was a venom upon his tongue, choking it back as it fought to drip from his lips.

“How many times have I told you, brat? You are mine. Mine to do with what I wish. You are a doll, a pet, and I own you. I own your flesh. I own your blood. I own your soul. When will you get that through your pretty little head? I always knew you were an idiot, but you are not as stupid as you like to pretend.”

If Yuuji didn’t know better, Sukuna’s tirade was as close to a temper tantrum as he’d ever seen. There was real anger woven beneath Sukuna’s almost faux jovial tone. On the surface, he looked almost excited for what was to come, because there was surely something show worthy to come. Beneath that though, the ever present annoyance Sukuna held just for Yuuji had morphed into something more dangerous. It made Yuuji’s hackles rise and the words he said were out before he could strangle them back.

“You really think I’m pretty?”

He didn’t see the backhand coming, but he had been expecting it. Blood, tasting of wet copper and warm iron, filled his mouth and stars burst with every blink of his eyes. He’d been laid flat, the currant canopy above him swimming in and out of focus. His limbs were like lead, the strength stolen from them by the strike to the side of his face. It would swell and bruise soon, until he couldn’t see out of his eye.

“I had thought that maybe, just maybe, my mark would be enough to stake my claim, to get my point across, but I see I was wrong,” Sukuna said, though he sounded far away and as if he were underwater. “There are other means by which I might ingrain this into you.”

Yuuji’s fingers twitched at the mention of the mark that Sukuna had personally tattooed into his flesh at the beginning of his imprisonment. He’d traced it every day since it’d been poked into his flesh. The center point of the tattoo was reminiscent of the mark on Sukuna’s forehead and spread out from there in a mixture of swirling and jagged lines. He tried not to think about the placement too hard, low on his abdomen and just above his groin, but its meaning was clear.

He’d been given a womb tattoo.

“The hard way it is.”

The world was still spinning when he felt Sukuna’s hands grabbing at him. He was flipped away from Sukuna so that he laid face down. The sheets were cool beneath his cheek but quickly warmed up with his body heat. He felt the bed dip at his side and then he was hauled onto his knees by his hips. Sukuna’s palms were wide and calloused and cool against his skin. He tried to raise his head, but another hand appeared at the back of his skull and pushed his face back into the sheets.

Despite, more or less, being used to his nudity, the position made him vulnerable and embarrassed. It exposed too much of him to a room full of Sukuna’s followers. He felt like cattle, or a show dog, being put on display.

He tried to raise his head again, planting his hands on the bed next to his head as if doing a push up, but the hand on the back of his skull was relentless.

“What are you doing?” Yuuji asked, though it was slurred and muffled.

“Carving the fact that you are mine into you very being, brat,” Sukuna said. “I will not tolerate you damaging what is mine. I am tired of these little rebellions you insist on enacting. You will do as you are told, when you are told. You will listen to me and, when I’m not around, you will listen to Uraume. You will stop trying to escape. You will stop destroying my estate. You will stop attacking my followers. You will stop trying to hurt yourself. I will cut off your arms. I will cut off your legs. And I will let you heal like that, and you will be a fucking sack of shit to be hauled around at my whim.

“Do you understand me, Yuuji?”

Yuuji couldn’t recall Sukuna ever saying his name in all the time they had been forced together. He didn’t like the way Sukuna said it, holding the u too long, saying the second syllable too harshly.

“Fuck you,” Yuuji said.

The hand at the back of his head knotted in his hair and yanked his head back. His neck protested at the treatment and a pained hiss escaped from between clenched teeth.

“Say that again?”

It was a dare. The barest of olive branches Sukuna had extended. If he apologized now, he’d escape what could be the worst of what was to come. It would still come, this carving Sukuna spoke about, but it’d be the easy way or it’d be the hard way. He might even escape the encounter in one piece.

But with Sukuna, it was hard to think logically, to not give into the tempest of emotions that seemed to always be raging beneath his skin.

Yuuji smiled, blood pinkening his teeth, though it was closer to a silent snarl. He turned his head and felt strands of his hair rip free. From the corner of his eye, Yuuji met Sukuna’s eyes on the twisted part of his face. The sanguine colour swirled with a darkness that only an evil like Sukuna could possess.

When you stare too long into the abyss, the abyss stares back.

“Fuck. You.”

Yuuji’s face was shoved back into the bedding. He tried to thrash but Sukuna was stronger and, in his original form, he was stronger still. He heard hushed whispers break out amongst those gathered, soft tittering and exclamations of disbelief, irritation, and anger. They disapproved of him but Yuuji didn’t have a rat’s ass to give.

For all that Yuuji imagined Sukuna doing to him, what happened next hadn’t ever crossed his mind. The idea, should Yuuji have entertained it, was ludacris. Yet, when Yuuji felt a decidedly dry finger prod at his asshole, there was nothing else that such an act could preclude.

Fear like he’d never felt before, even as he watched Megumi disappear, as he watched Gojo-sensei fall, as Yuuta transferred himself into Gojo-sensei and still lost, as everyone fell like flies before Sukuna’s prowess, spiked down his spine. 

“Stop,” Yuuji said, voice small and heavy with terror. He could hardly hear himself over the loud beating of his heart.

“Stop,” he said again, a little louder.

“No,” Sukuna said as he forced a finger into him.

Yuuji jerked at the foreign intrusion, at least as much as he could being held in Sukuna’s tight grips. The finger was thick and rough and was immediately joined by a second equally as dry finger. The stretch was too much and pain lanced along his lower back. A third finger appeared and forced its way in, struggling to fit in next to the other two fingers. Yuuji felt himself tear, a queer sensation that made him think of ripping a cotton t-shirt. He thought he might have screamed but then the fingers were spreading and Yuuji knew he was screaming.

It was like the snapping of a rubber band. There was a tightness and then suddenly it gave way in the most painful manner. He didn’t think it could get worse, but then Sukuna began pumping his fingers. It was as if a lit match was being held against his insides and glass was being dragged over the burns. Sukuna didn’t care that his nails gouged Yuuji’s insides with every thrust inward. 

It wasn’t long before the blood eased the dry pull of Sukuna’s fingers against his inner walls, but when the movement became easier, though no less painful, Sukuna withdrew his fingers.

Yuuji wanted to believe that was it, but knew better. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuji gasped into the wet sheets beneath him. It was a mixture of tears and drool and snot. “I’m sorry!”

Sukuna shifted, and with the way the bed dipped to either side of his legs, Yuuji knew that the curse had moved behind him. He could hear the rustling of clothing and knew there’d be no reprieve from his punishment.

“No, you’re not,” Sukuna said in a purr. He lifted Yuuji’s face from the sheets, pulling his head back until his fingers were scrabbling against the bed to relieve some of the pain. Sukuna pulled until Yuuji was arched like a bow strung too tight and pain settled into every inch of his spine and neck. He pulled until Yuuji could see Sukuna’s upside down face.

The smile he wore was all teeth. Long canines were on display, their points seemingly sharper than they had been anytime previously. The darkness that had swirled in Sukuna’s eyes had expanded until the dark scarlett was nearly black. In their depths was the ruin Yuuji had always seen, but there was more, a sort of crazed emotion. Obsession, or maybe possession. In either case, the windows to whatever made Sukuna what he was told him that he would never escape. He’d never survive Sukuna. He’d never be let go.

Sukuna dipped his head until his lips were right next to Yuuji’s ear. “But you will be.”

Then, like a viper, Sukuna struck, his teeth sinking into the space between neck and shoulder at the same moment he thrust his hips forward, shoving his monstrous cock past Yuuji’s heavily abused rim.

He was being ripped apart, literally and figuratively. He felt as if he’d split around Sukuna’s cock, and the bite that Sukuna had lavished on him wasn’t a love bite. Sukuna kept biting until Yuuji felt his flesh and muscle give way. Pain exploded in his neck and ass. Taking a blowtorch to the bottom of his feet would have been less painful as he tore wherever Sukuna touched. Wet squelching filled the air as Sukuna chewed next to his ear and pistoned his hips into Yuuji. The scent of blood and salt filled the air along with Yuuji’s screams. 

There was nothing for him to do but take the punishment Sukuna laid upon him. The pain was sharp, like razor blades on his nerves, and all consuming like the fire that Sukuna wielded. He was being flayed open and eaten alive. The pain was everywhere and inescapable. There would be no focusing on anything else, no controlled breathing. It was to be felt until Sukuna deemed otherwise.

He’d rather feel absolutely nothing to the well of agony that he was drowning in. He was being pulled apart. First flesh, then muscle, then nerves, and finally bones. He was being stripped bare and played like a grotesque violin. His bones, the neck. His muscles, the plates. His flesh, the fingerboard. His nerves, the strings. And his screams, the melody.

Fingers filled his mouth, pushing deeper and deeper until he was choking on them. He bit down on instinct, further and further still until a fresh wave of warm blood coated his tongue and throat. He tried to breathe and inhaled the blood. He gagged and choked, throat convulsing as it tried to expel the fingers, and blood slid down his throat. Black dots played at the edge of his vision, transforming into a shrinking vignette as consciousness threatened to flee.

The fingers were shoved in another centimeter and the hinge of his jaw gave way to bring a new, excruciating wave of pain. Yuuji could feel nothing else. If he cried, he didn’t know. If he was still screaming, he couldn’t hear. He was out of his mind on pain and terror, an endless, unrelenting feedback loop that gave no reprieve.

Seconds, minutes, hours went by. Yuuji didn’t know. As suddenly as it had all begun, it stopped. Sukuna let go of him and he collapsed against the bed. The pain, as sharp and bright as it had been, ebbed and flowed away like waves shifting to low tide. With each wave, a little more of the pain slipped away. It took wave after wave, but when the pain was bearable, thoughts came back to Yuuji sluggishly, and a new sensation became apparent.

It was the feel of Sukuna’s cursed energy flowing through him. He’d experienced it enough before to recognize the simmering warmth. It held an edge to it, as if Yuuji were balancing on the blade of a knife. A fall to either side would consume him in a blaze.

The sensation faded and was replaced by the touch of cold hands. Uraume.

“Clean him up.”

Sukuna’s voice, fading away as darkness pulled at Yuuji. Uraume’s touch was gentle, though not because they cared for Yuuji, but because he was Sukuna’s prized possession, only meant to be broken by his owner’s hands.

A second sensation itched along Yuuji’s senses, a buzzing reminiscent of the time Yuuji touched his tongue to a D battery. It was low and deep and tight.

And it was somewhere in the area behind his tattoo.

Yuuji sat to Sukuna’s left, the spot on his right reserved for Uraume, though they were busy cooking for the night’s feast. Yuuji couldn’t remember what they were supposed to be celebrating. Something in Sukuna’s honor, no doubt.

If he’d had any say in the matter, he wouldn’t be in attendance, but Sukuna had begun demanding more and more of his presence. Both during the day and through the night, as if he needed the reminders that he was nothing more than owned.

Conversation had been going on around him, and the human next to him had tried to engage with him at one point, but he let it all wash over him. Whatever they had to say, Yuuji wasn’t interested. He had other things on his mind.

On the plate before him was steak and potatoes. It was nothing fancy, but Uraume had made it specifically for him. Everyone else at the table had been served human. He’d heard the girl scream as she was being butchered. He’d trembled as he stood outside the kitchen door. He’d wanted to go to her, to rescue her from her fate, like a cog in the system, but he’d stood there as Uraume cut into her. The phantom touch of Sukuna’s hand had stilled him.

If he’d acted, he’d be punished, and then someone else would be punished for his faults. Sukuna only had to prove that he’d do such a thing once. He’d wiped out a human settlement, one filled with innocents just trying to survive in the new world order. Their skins had been pinned up around the estate. Man, women, and child. Nothing had escaped. He’d even killed the pets.

The plate had been empty when he’d first arrived at the hall. Sukuna had pulled out his seat before taking his own. It had remained empty for a while before a small salad had been placed before him on its own little plate. Despite feeling hungry, Yuuji had pushed around the leaves, the sight of the thing unappetizing. He hadn’t tried to stop the servant from taking it away.

A short time later he’d been brought the food before him. At sight of it, he’d expected to want to dig in immediately, but then he caught a whiff of it. It had smelled rotten, like it’d sat out for the last few weeks before being served to him.

Which Yuuji knew couldn’t be right, because above all else, Uraume was a hell-of-a-cook. There was nothing to look forward to at the compound, except for Uraume’s exceptional cooking skills. They made every meal special for Yuuji. He’d asked Uraume once if they’d ever slipped him human. They’d been insulted at the implication they’d tamper with food and told Yuuji, emphatically, that they’d never done such a thing, though human was their specialty.

Yuuji believed them.

He picked up his fork and knife and cut a piece of the meat off. No matter what his brain was telling him, Yuuji knew the food was good. He placed the knife down on the plate, the metal and porcelain ringing out when they met, and then stabbed the piece with his fork. The silver gleamed as it caught the light when he was bringing it closer. The rancid smell didn’t get any worse, but nor did it get any better.

Before he could change his mind, Yuuji stuffed the meat in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed it. To his surprise, it didn’t taste nearly as bad as it smelled. To his disappointment though, it tasted almost like nothing. The texture didn’t quite agree with him, but it was the vague ashy flavor that turned him off the most.

It was so unlike Uraume’s usual cooking that Yuuji chalked it up to him being sick. A cold, or something. He’d been feeling off the last couple of days anyway, and the lackluster flavor of the food sealed it.

He debated about subtly spitting the piece in his napkin, but the fact that he didn’t finish the food would upset Uraume enough. If they found the spit up piece, they’d never cook for him again. It wasn’t a risk Yuuji was willing to take. He chewed the piece and washed it down with a glass of water.

Yuuji returned his fork to the plate, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and said under his breath, “I don’t feel well. May I be excused?” After a pause, Yuuji added, “Please.” It was as good as begging for it. He hoped Sukuna saw it for what it was and extended him mercy.

A touch to his elbow and it was all the allowance Yuuji needed. He pushed away from the table, stood with a soft goodbye, meant for Sukuna only, and left the dining hall. He could feel the gazes of those gathered on him, could imagine the looks that ranged from disinterest to curious to covetous to open animosity.

Leaving Sukuna’s gathering was sure to be seen as the utmost disrespect by plenty of the guests and no doubt it would cause court gossip. They’d wonder why Sukuna allowed such a thing, but the King of Curses wasn’t concerned with such matters. To him, Yuuji leaving warranted as much thought as an extra chair being removed from the room. In fact, the extra chair would probably be missed more than Yuuji.

He exited the dining hall, leaving behind the murmured discussions about the subrogation of the human race, the expansion of curses over the land, and other matters that no longer concerned Yuuji. The sounds of clinking silverware and glass faded the further he walked away until the only sound was his bare feet padding against the wooden floors.

He hadn’t been forced to attend this dinner naked as he had in the past, but the yukata he wore was simple. It was a light grey-blue and the obi he wore was an unpatterned dark grey. The clothing was light and kept him from getting too hot from the summer heat, but the cool air in the hallway highlighted that he had, in fact, begun to feel feverish at some point. Yuuji hadn’t realized it until the cool air had dried pricks of sweat along his hairline.

Yuuji came to a T-junction. To the right would eventually take him to his room, but the left would lead deeper into the compound, namely the kitchen. While he hadn’t really eaten anything at dinner, he was still feeling hungry. He might be able to apologize to Uraume for declining to eat the food they had prepared, something they had surely heard about already from one of the servants, and convince the sorcerer to take pity on him and give him something light, like soup.

Taking the left, Yuuji wound his way through the mostly deserted hallways. Any servants he ran into moved out of his way, pressing themselves against the walls as if hoping he wouldn’t notice them. They kept their heads lower than Yuuji did, an impressive feat all things considered. He didn’t know if it was from fear, respect, or both.

He’d tried reaching out to the servants in the early days, but they’d wanted nothing more to do with him than necessary. They avoided him like the plague, and when he’d realized that they kept an eye on him and reported on his movements to Uraume, he’d given up the hope of making any allies. Their loyalty lay with, if not Sukuna, at the very least, Sukuna’s second.

He really shouldn’t have been surprised at the revelation, but it was another nail in the coffin that Yuuji found himself buried deeper and deeper in.

When he arrived at the kitchens, the door was closed, but Yuuji could hear the movement of the kitchen servants and the banging of pots and pans. Muffled orders to keep the heat consistent and to plate the next course rang out with firm commands that were befitting an army’s general.

Yuuji slid open the shoji door and a blast of heat was the first thing to greet him. To the untrained eye, the kitchen appeared in disarray as humans and curses alike ran from one side to another. Flames from stoves roared upward and plates clattered as they were moved to and fro. Yet, upon closer inspection, those in the kitchen moved in sync. They flowed around one another, assured with each footstep. They never tripped or stuttered, never bumped into one another.

Uraume’s kitchen was well orchestrated.

He kept to the edges of the kitchen where there was less movement and less chances for him to get in the way. Yuuji kept his eyes peeled for Uraume, spotting them by the servant’s door that would lead into a well-hidden hallway that let out into the dinning room. He hurried his footsteps, wanting to get back to his room as soon as possible. Whether he was just more aware of it now, or if it was highlighted because of the meat he’d tried to eat at dinner, Yuuji was feeling less and less well with each passing minute.

“Uraume,” Yuuji said as he sidled up to them.

Uraume ignored them, their rouge eyes focused forward.

“Uraume,” Yuuji tried again, hoping that maybe they just hadn’t heard him the first time, but deflating when they continued to stare ahead.

He signed, wishing he’d just gone back to bed. “Uraume, I’m sorry for not eating your dinner.” It might have been a trick of the light, but Yuuji was sure their shoulders relaxed. “I’m feeling…unwell. Do you have any soup prepared?”

Yuuji waited, and waited, and was about to give up when Uraume gave them a look from the corner of their eye. Their lips pressed together, but something about Yuuji—he assumed his pitiful appearance and sad puppy eyes—made them relent.

“There’s cold ginger soup in the fridge in the back. Not the walk-in,” Uraume said. “It’s already portioned out. Take a bowl and get out of my kitchen.”

Yuuji’s relief was palpable and he sagged under the weight of it. 

“Thank you, Uraume,” he said. Before he could leave Uraume to their business though, they called his name. He looked over his shoulder at them.

“Do not waste this food.” Uraume’s dark pink gaze was steadfast and unwavering when Yuuji met it. It was a reminder that ice wasn’t just their cursed technique, but within their veins as well. They would not tolerate what they perceived as blatant disrespect again. Yet another threat and promise for Yuuji to add to his growing list.

He didn’t bother to respond and moved deeper within the kitchen. 

The servants paid him no mind and those that had to move around him did so with a dancer’s grace. When they passed by him with food though, Yuuji leaned away. Like his dinner, the smell was revolting. Some of the items didn’t smell quite as bad, but all remained unappetizing. It was alleviating when he reached the back of the kitchen.

Yuuji ignored the large metal door to his right that led into the walk-in. Uraume didn’t have to specify not to go into that cooler/freezer. He was well aware of what was hung from the large meat hooks that lined the cooler’s ceiling. Instead, he walked to the regular, modern, stainless steel fridge. It chimed with electronic beeps when he opened it.

It was easy to find the soup Uraume told him about as it took up the entire middle rack. He was met with stacks of ginger soup at eye level and he pulled one out. Yuuji began to close the door, ready to be done with the day after choking down some cold soup, but a flash of deep pink caught his eye.

He pulled the door back open.

On a plate, covered in cling wrap, was a thick cut of raw steak. The sight threw Yuuji for a small loop as it looked out of place on the bottom fridge rack. It was the only thing there, sitting unbothered as if forgotten. Blood red juices had leaked from the slab of meat and surrounded the steak like a shallow pool.

Saliva filled his mouth and Yuuji was startled to realize how utterly famished he was feeling as he stared at the steak.

He swallowed thickly and gazed back over his shoulder.

No one was paying him any mind.

Yuuji turned back to the steak. His hands shook as he placed the ginger soup down next to the plate and removed the cling wrap. The smell was heavenly and he risked outright drooling. Yuuji had never desired a piece of food so much in his life. His stomach cramped with hunger and he lifted the steak gently from its bed of myoglobin. He knew that he should ask someone to cook it, but found himself reasoning that people ate steak rare all the time. Then he argued with himself that raw was a little different from rare but found his argument was weak and resolve was weaker.

He brought the steak to his mouth and bit into it slowly at first, but then began to tear into it like a starved wolf. The taste was divine and Yuuji didn’t hinder the moan he released as bursts of flavors washed over him. 

The meat’s juices rolled down his chin and neck, staining his yukata, but Yuuji found he couldn’t care at all. The raw meat was exactly what he had been craving.

Well, almost exactly what he wanted. It was close enough, anyway, and cut away at the sharpest edges of his hunger.

Yuuji devoured the meat in minutes and sucked the flavor from his fingers until all he could taste was just himself.

He opened his eyes that he’d closed in borderline ecstasy and wiped his face as clean as he could with the sleeve of his yukata. Yuuji cast a furtive glance over his shoulder and confirmed that he’d still gone relatively unnoticed. Satisfied that no one was the wiser to his unusual dinner, Yuuji pulled the ginger soup back out, as well as the empty dish, which he tipped into the standing garbage can nearby.

Hunger curbed and feeling satisfied, Yuuji left the kitchen quickly. 

He’d figure out what to do with the soup later.

Yuuji paced the length of his room like a caged tiger. His hands were squeezed into fists that he couldn’t seem to relax, shoulders tensed and bunched. He stalked from one, spun, and back to the opposite, repeating the motion over and over again.

The iron manacle with the woven red rope was back on his left ankle. It scraped against the floor as he walked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The sound of it grated against his nerves. The minute bells jingled softly and subdued, but the sound of them served as a focused point of irritation. 

Uraume had latched it on after dragging Yuuji back to his room. One of Sukuna’s guests had brought his own retinue and servants. A well-dressed curse who held himself as if he were someone important had taken to whispering vile things to Yuuji and groping at him when no one was looking. The last, ballsy grab for his crotch had pushed Yuuji over the edge.

It was the curse’s screams as Yuuji did his best to beat him into a gorey pulp that drew the attention of others.

Sukuna’s servants had been too scared to get close, but Uraume held no such qualms and pulled Yuuji off of the other with minor effort.

Had Yuuji left it at that, he’d probably would have still been allowed free range of the compound, but so caught up in the anger that was sharpened by the fact that he was famished , he struck Uraume in his fit of rage. Bright red had burst over their face like a splash of brilliant paint as their nose gave way beneath Yuuji’s fist.

It had rocked Uraume and caused everyone in the vicinity, including Yuuji, to freeze as if struck by their cursed technique. Before Yuuji could stammer out an apology, fingers covered in ice were in his hair and he was being dragged back to his room.

Only the tray of food that came hours later by way of servant let Yuuji know that, at the very least, Uraume was no longer mad at Yuuji, if not necessarily forgiven.

Not that it mattered, because Yuuji couldn’t eat the food. Despite the hunger that was shredding him from the inside, Yuuji hadn’t eaten in days. Maybe weeks. He’d lost count. Forcing down the rotten smelling food no longer worked. The ashy taste had morphed into something akin to licking a battery acid coated ashtray. Everything that went down inevitably came back up. The only thing he seemed to be able to tolerate was small sips of water.

Even now, through the sounds of the bells, and the smell of the disgusting food, and the itch of the manacle where it rubbed unpleasantly against his skin, the predominant sensation was that of his stomach twisting in on itself. It was like having a ball of twined vipers in his belly—pissed off vipers that struck out with fangs and venom. His guts felt as if they were slithering and writhing. The pain was sharp and burning. Swallowing nails would have been a reprieve.

Yuuji groaned as his belly clenched and cramped particularly hard, driving his fists into his stomach and grinding his knuckles against his flesh. He wanted to find a knife and draw it over the skin of his abdomen, slice through the yellow-white fat, and cut through muscle until his stomach was exposed. He’d bury his hands in the gaping cavity and pull out the offending organ and unspool his intestines until he was hollow, empty. Anything to make it stop.

The cramping eased, but didn’t disappear completely. Yuuji remained hunched, knuckles digging into his abdomen, and teeth clenched until he risked cracking a tooth. He forced himself to continue pacing through the pain, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. His heels pounded against the floor hard enough that small jolts of pain shot up ankle and through his calves.

Anger flared bright and white hot within Yuuji. It made him want to scream until his throat was raw, to claw at his own flesh until that pain overrode everything, to destroy everything he could lay his hands on. His teeth clenched harder and he heard a creak resonate within his head. HIs jaw ached and a headache was building behind his left eye.

He slammed his eyes shut, squeezing them tight until fireworks were painting themselves on his eyelids, and counted out his steps, focusing on the numbers and turning around when he reached the appropriate number of steps. He tried a breathing exercise. In, hold, out, hold, repeat.

Yuuji thought it might have been working but then his stomach cramped again and the pain was enough to bring him to his knees. His teeth clacked with the force that he collapsed to the floor and there was a brief flare of pain in his jaw that told him he’d cracked a tooth, but it was quickly overridden by the hunger pains. It was as if a clawed hand reached into his belly and was twisting, yanking, slicing everything within reach. His stomach rumbled and growled, low in pitch to start, but finishing high. The bubbling feeling of it made him gag and he began to dry heave as his stomach revolted. Bile burned up his throat and sinuses as he retched. Nothing but thick saliva and thinned acid came up. His gut clenched hard and hard with every heave, throwing Yuuji against the floor where he rolled his forehead against the hardwood. His head was a cracked pot filled with electric fire and burning acid

As fast as the attack had hit, it began to ebb away until the pain was a phantom beneath his skin. Snot and tears coated Yuuji’s face and, at some point, he’d ended up on his side, knees cradled to chest, as he shook violently. 

When the shaking subsided, Yuuji uncurled himself, swiped his face with his forearm, and began screaming. He rolled to his knees and beat the floor with his fists, the wood splintering under his assault. The tray that held Uraume’s food rattled from the vibrations and Yuuji whipped his head toward the sound. His hand lashed out to grip the tray and then he was flinging it around to smash it against the nearest wall, his screams chasing it. 

The light bamboo tray shattered into a thousand splinters upon contact with the wall. Plates and glasses shattered in a spray of dull white and glittering shards. Liquids splashed and droplets ricocheted. Food splattered and dribbled down the wall.

There was a small sting, a tiny bite of pain on his arm. Yuuji flicked his gaze down, his chest heaving as he took great gasping breaths. A piece of glass, or maybe porcelain, had rebounded and nicked his forearm, up near the knob of his wrist.

The blood was slow to well, probably due to the near dehydrated state he was in. It beaded, larger and larger, until the surface tension broke. It trailed sluggishly over his skin until it dripped with a soft pat, pat against the floor.

Yuuji raised his arm to eye level and twisted his arm around to get a better look at the cut. It looked bad because of the blood, but with a little pressure, the bleeding would be sure to stop. However, rather than finding something he could press against the wound, Yuuji remained where he was and watched the blood continue to fall. The red was vivid against his skin. He’d paled since being taken in with Sukuna. Less sun. Declining health. The deeper tan he’d once held was gone. His tone was reminiscent of the winter months, but with a sickly grey underlay.

He tracked the blood’s descent down the length of his forearm. It gathered at the point of his elbow, the droplet getting heavier and heavier until its strength gave way and it fell against his thigh.

It was mesmerizing. 

He licked the pale pink trail. It was quick and he was doing it before he registered his actions. He dragged his tongue across his skin, swiping away some of the blood.

The sumptuous flavor burst over his tongue. It was short lived, but Yuuji was leaning in for more before the taste vanished. He trailed the tip of his tongue up his forearm, twisting his arm one way and the other, tugging on it with his free hand, to collect as much of the blood as he could get. He traced the path back to the nick and sealed his lips over it before sucking.

A little more blood filled his mouth, drawn forth from the small wound. It quenched the continuous thirst he’d been failing to stave off. He’d never been lost in the desert, but Yuuji imagined the rapture he was feeling from drinking the small amounts of blood was what a lost soul would have felt as well.

It wasn’t enough though.

He needed more.

He needed to draw more blood.

He needed to bite.

He needed to eat.

Yuuji pulled his mouth away from his wrist, tongue flicking out to collect any blood on his lips, and then opened wide. He aimed for the flesh just below his wrist, where there would be more to bite into. He sunk his teeth in, aware of the pain, but the need to assuage his hunger pushed it far to the back of his mind.

It was surprisingly easy to dig his teeth in. Sukuna, of course, had always made it look easy, but figured it was because he was used to eating flesh. He was tender and juicy, despite the last couple of weeks. Blood rushed to fill his mouth. He swallowed as much of it as he could, but there was so much that it leaked from the corners of his mouth. The hunk of meat he’d wrenched free followed close behind. Strands of skin and tendon snapped and fell against his chin as he chewed the delicious meat.

He moaned as he swallowed and moaned even louder when his hunger lessened.

Yuuji went in for a second bite, hardly registering the ragged, torn edges of the hole left in his arm from the first bite. He aimed for the thickest part of his forearm, just below his elbow. He pressed his face close, closer still until his cheeks were smooshed and his mouth was filled to the brim. 

The bite was quick and clean. He jerked back and twisted his head to rend free the hunk of flesh. Much of it was hanging from his mouth. Not wanting to risk wasting it, he used his free hand to shovel the meat into his mouth. He nearly choked on it, but pressed the meat in further and further with his fingers, forcing it down his throat.

He bit again without meaning to. It took two of his fingers, and he was a little distraught at that, because he needed them to get more flesh in his mouth, but it was too late so he might as well eat that too.

Yuuji wondered if he tasted the same everywhere.

He picked up a shard of glass that was nearby and sunk it into his inner thigh. He cut free a jagged strip of flesh. It revealed deep red muscle that shined under the overhead lights. He could see it twitching and pulsing as blood pumped through it.

Dangling the strip of meat with the remaining fingers of his left hand, Yuuji tipped his head back and fed it to himself. He giggled with madness at the thought that he looked like those Roman or Greek paintings with the grapes.

He sucked the blood from his fingers, taking the ring finger for himself, because he was greedy. He’d leave the pinky and thumb though since that should be enough to hold his meat while he ate.

“Yuuji.”

Yuuji froze upon hearing his name before turning toward the doorway.

Standing like they’d accidentally turned their ice on themselves was Uraume.  They looked paler than usual and their rouge eyes were wide with surprise. Their lips were parted, words caught on their tongue.

The smooth, calm mask that Yuuji was used to slid into place as they stepped toward him. 

“What are you doing?”

Yuuji stared at them before looking at what he was doing. He’d gotten halfway through carving another strip of flesh from his thigh, the piece of glass in his right hand and one end of the meat pinched between pinky and thumb of his left.

“I-” Yuuji started, stopped, and then tried again. “I was hungry?” 

“Are you asking me?” Uraume kneeled into seiza at Yuuji’s side. They flowed into the position like spring water. It was a beautiful sight that never failed to make Yuuji a little jealous. They would have had to practice a lot to make the movements as graceful as they did.

“Yes,” Yuuji said. “I mean no. I was hungry. I am hungry.”

Uraume nodded, as if they understood. They looked toward the doorway and Yuuji followed their gaze. A house servant had her head in the door. The horror on her face was poorly concealed and she looked ready to flee.

“The Lord, if you please,” Uraume said lightly. “Now.”

The servant didn’t acknowledge Uraume’s order as she ran from the room. Yuuji heard her geta clacking against the wood.

Uraume turned their attention back to Yuuji. They raised a hand from their lap, flipping it with a twist of the wrist so their palm was faceup. “If you would give me the piece of glass.”

Yuuji leaned away from Uraume minutely, putting space between them. He clenched the glass in his hand and felt it sink into his palm like a hot knife through butter. “But I’m still hungry,” he whispered.

Uraume curled their fingers in a give-it motion, much like one would do to a naughty child, though they didn’t yet try to force it from Yuuji. He was feeling reprimanded though and opened his hand. The piece of glass stuck up out of his bloody palm like a shark’s fin in the ocean.

He didn’t want to turn it over.

Tears filled his eyes until they overflowed and cut tracks in the dried blood caking his face.

He looked to Uraume, pleading for help. “But I’m still so hungry.”

Uraume reached toward Yuuj’s hand, moving slowly, like they were reaching for a feral animal. They pinched the glass piece between their fingers and extracted it from Yuuji’s palm. They tossed it toward the wall that had been made a mess of, where piles of broken porcelain and glass lay.

“We’ll find you something better to eat.”

The silent tears turned into soft sobs that made his shoulders shake. “But there isn’t anything better.”

Yuuji buried his face into his hands and sobbed harder. His body shook and trembled with each heaving cry. A cool hand pressed against his shoulder and, had Yuuji not been so taken in with his pain and hunger, he might have appreciated the attempt at some sort of comfort from Uraume.

“What happened?” came the deep voice of Sukuna.

Yuuji didn’t bother to lift his head to answer, only cried harder into his hands.

“I heard screaming and came to check on him. I found him like this. He was eating himself.”

“That’s new,” Sukuna said. “Why?”

“He said he’s hungry.”

“You’ve been feeding him, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but the servants have found much of the food disposed of in ways that make me think he was trying to hide it.”

“Any ideas as to why?” Sukuna asked.

“I have a few,” Uraume said.

“Leave us,” Sukuna said.

Uraume squeezed Yuuji’s shoulder before withdrawing their hand and Yuuji found that he missed the touch. No one had touched him in such a way in months.

“Look at me,” Sukuna commanded.

Yuuji had little will left to fight and lifted his head from his ruined hands. Sukuna’s large form was squatted down in front of him. The belly mouth had its tongue lolled out and a wide grin on its lips which showed off its sharp teeth. Sukuna himself wore a look of curious contemplation, as if he didn’t know what to make of Yuuji at the moment. His top set of arms were crossed over his chest but his bottom set were resting against his braced thighs.

“You’ve made yet another mess. Of this room and of yourself. I thought we had this matter settled.”

“It’s not like that!” Yuuji cried in his defense.

“Then what is this?” Sukuna asked. Not that he cared for Yuuji’s answer. Yuuji knew that Sukuna’s mind had been made up the moment he’d walked in the room. There’d be a punishment, one way or another.

“I’m hungry,” Yuuji moaned softly.

“Uraume said they’ve provided you with food.”

“I can’t eat that.”

“Why?”

“It’s disgusting!” Yuuji blurted out. “It all smells rotten and tastes worse!”

Sukuna’s brows shot up and the belly mouth closed, its lips pulling into a frown. “I find that hard to believe.”

Yuuji’s face screwed up as arguments flashed across his mind. He bit his lip as he tried to find something to say, something to defend himself with, something to make Sukuna understand, but there was nothing. All of it would fall on deaf ears. All of it would have a simple counter argument. Sukuna would be right, Yuuji would be wrong, no matter what was said.

He began crying once more. Yuuji pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and tipped his head back. It was a whirlwind, all of it. His hunger, his pain, his frustration, his anger. At Uraume. At Sukuna. At himself. The situation. Belonging to Sukuna. Being left alone.

Being left alive.

“We’ll discuss this further later,” Sukuna said. “The immediate issue is the mess you’ve made of yourself. While I’m tempted to let you heal like this, it’s a distasteful look for me to have damaged goods.”

Large, rough hands grabbed at him and dragged him across the floor until he was surrounded by Sukuna. The belly mouth, seemingly a thing that had a mind of its own, lapped at the blood that covered Yuuji. He was crushed against Sukuna’s chest and abdomen as a sharp, heated prickling sensation spread through his body. 

It was an invasion of his senses and it gave him the sense of TV static beneath his skin. The skin that was regrown was sensitive and the bones in his returned fingers ached.

Yuuji panted wetly against Sukuna’s skin as his cursed energy continued to rove through him, taking care of any injury or hurt it encountered. Yuuji’s skin felt tight over his skeleton whenever Sukuna used his reversed curse technique on him. It’s like the cursed energy took up its own space and threatened to push Yuuji right out of his own skin. It filled him uncomfortably to the brim, a cup ready to overflow.

He groaned as the cursed energy began to heat up and shifted around, hoping that some space might open up for the energy to fall into which would alleviate the fullness. Yuuji twisted his head with another groan and his lips brushed Sukuna’s skin.

It was salty, from sweat. Yuuji licked the taste from his lips. His hunger returned, or made itself known again, having never left. He panted against Sukuna’s skin.

Just a taste. Just a small taste. Such a minor risk. He was going to be punished anyway, and he was so fucking hungry.

Yuuji opened his mouth wide and sunk his teeth into Sukuna. Blood and cursed energy filled his mouth. It was overwhelming. It was pure ecstasy. He moaned in unabashed pleasure and his eyes rolled back in his head. His tongue rolled against the skin, tasting, tasting, tasting.

He tore the flesh free and chewed. It was exquisite. It was everything he wanted. It was everything he needed. It was a pleasure he’d never experienced.

He pressed a hand against his crotch, finding his cock hard.

When he swallowed, he came. It was rapturous.

Yuuji laid stiffly on the bed, tension keeping his body strung like a bow. He had an arm thrown over his face as he fought the urge down to throw Uraume away from him. They had one cool hand over his lower abdomen, palpitating the area. Their other hand was between his legs, two fingers buried within him as they pressed from the inside. Their cursed energy was cool and focused on his abdomen as he was probed, poked, and prodded. 

What was another humiliation for him to endure?

“Well?”

Yuuji turned his head toward the voice and peered from beneath his arm. Sukuna was leaning against the frame of the open exterior door of his room. The King of Curses had dawned his human-esque appearance, something that Yuuji had been seeing less and less of. 

Outside the room that Yuuji had come to think of as his, unbidden or not, was a garden. A stone path wound its way through the garden like a snake. It led from Yuuji’s room to a shaded bench near a koi-filled pond. He could hear birds twittering and more than one of the compound’s cats meowing.

He flinched when he realized that Sukuna was watching him. Yuuji turned his face away and hid beneath his arm once more.

Uraume’s hands left him, one with a wet squelch, and Yuuji took the opportunity to roll away from them. He gave Uraume and Sukuna his back, all knobby spine and visible ribs. His hips had even begun to present themselves.

“He’s pregnant,” Uraume said, a confirmation of their suspicions that Yuuji had laughed at when told. Or overheard. Uraume hadn’t actually said anything to Yuuji. They had told Sukuna.

“That’s not possible,” Yuuji snapped, though he knew Uraume had no reason to lie. 

“What makes you say that?” Uraume asked.

Yuuji rolled back over to face them. They were wiping their hands clean with a small white towel, a bowl of water at their elbow.

“Considering I’m forced to walk around naked most of the time, I thought it’d be obvious, but just in case you’re aware, I don’t have the parts to make a baby.”

“You do now,” was Uraume’s response.

“That’s not possible.”

“Again, what makes you say that?”

“You can’t just grow a uterus. At least, humans can’t. Who knows what curses can do,” Yuuji said, venom seeping into his voice. The whole thing was ludacris.

“You’re not human though, not entirely.”

Yuuji flinched as if struck, but would not yield the argument, even if he had to yield the point. “So? I know I sure as fuck haven’t spent these last few months wishing for a uterus.”

“Maybe not consciously-” 

“Not at all!”

“-but you’ve been sharing a bed with Lord Sukuna,” Uraume said.

“Sharing isn’t the word I’d use but what does that have to do with anything?” Yuuji snapped, shoving himself up into a sitting position.

Uraume placed the towel back on the cart they’d brought in for the exam. They gave Yuuji their full attention. “As you have pointed out, curses have unique anatomy and skills. It is impossible to know the extent of what is possible. I have no definitive answers, only theories. My prevalent theory is that between the womb tattoo, Lord Sukuna’s powerful cursed energy, and the frequent couplings, we have arrived at this situation.”

Yuuji bared his teeth. “That makes no sense. It’s just not possible.”

Uraume’s dark pink eyes darkened further and their lips pursed. “And yet, here we are. Should I go into the city and drag back an ultrasound machine? It’ll show you exactly what I’m telling you: that you’re pregnant.”

Before Yuuji could continue arguing, Sukuna cut him off.

“That won’t be necessary.” Sukuna pushed away from the frame and stepped further into the room. He wore a white yukata and blue-patterned obi as he had when he was still a part of Yuuji, though he was barefoot. “How far along?”

“I’d estimate around ten weeks.”

“And the cravings?”

Uraume tipped their head as they studied Yuuji, their eyes roving from head to toe, and back again. They turned to look over their shoulder. “My only guess is that it’s because it’s yours, my Lord. It may be seeking cursed energy as well as flesh to grow and yours may be the only flesh that can provide it with exactly what it needs.”

“Hmm,” Sukuna hummed. “Can we get rid of it?”

“Of course, my Lord.”

“No.”

Sukuna’s eyebrows went up and a smirk curled the corner of his lips. “No?”

“No,” Yuuji repeated.

“Not a minute ago you were denying this situation was possible and now you want to keep the thing? I’d have thought you’d jump at the opportunity to have this thing excised,” Sukuna said. “Some sort of moral standing?”

Yuuji snorted and rolled his eyes, but wrapped his arms around his middle. “Hardly.”

“Then enlighten me, brat. The thing growing inside you is hardly more than a parasite. Your hunger will continue to grow and if you don’t feed it what it wants, you’ll be made the meal,” Sukuna said.

“I’ll feed it,” Yuuji said.

“And if I refuse? You need me to do that successfully.”

Yuuji snarled and snapped at the air between them. “I’ve nearly eaten you once. I’m sure I can do it again.”

“You think you can do that without my cooperation?” Sukuna asked, his smirk a wide, sharp smile. It was a game, to him, the whole situation. “I’ll have you thrown into the dungeons, alone, until you’re nothing but a dried out, used husk. Or maybe, I’ll cut you open right now and rip the parasite from you just to force it down your ungrateful, bratty gullet.”

“You won’t,” Yuuji said.

It was a strange thing to say. Sukuna had demonstrated time and again that he was capable of doing such things and worse without thought and with ease. Yuuji had seen it. He’d been on the receiving end of it. Yet, he was confident in his statement. He was confident that Sukuna wouldn’t follow through on his threats.

It had nothing to do with any latent fatherly instincts Sukuna might have, because Yuuji was sure those didn’t exist in the slightest. There was no loyalty factor either and no sense of obligation.

It had everything to do with the fact that Sukuna was possessive over Yuuji in the most extreme ways. He didn’t care about Yuuji as a person but he cared in the way that an owner cared about their things. He’d repeated it time and again, that Yuuji belonged to him, that Yuuji was his. Yuuji didn’t even belong to himself. Sukuna had sole and only ownership.

So, to leave him to the fate of the child wouldn’t sit well with Sukuna. Yuuji’s destruction wouldn’t have been at the hands of Sukuna then. No, Sukuna would just be a bystander letting someone else do the destruction, and that wasn’t like him at all.

When Yuuji’s end came, it would be at the hands of Sukuna. No one else’s.

The forcible removal, while the more credible threat, didn’t hold the weight that it might otherwise have because, at the end of the day, the child was also Sukuna’s. And it was something that tied them irrevocably together, forever. 

Sukuna had been searching for ways to place his mark on Yuuji, a visual confirmation that Yuuji belonged solely to him. The tattoo, the public claiming, the private claimings, bitings, beatings, and even the punishments, all ways to show Yuuji and others that he was a possession. There was no better way to demonstrate a claim, to tie Yuuji to him, than a child between the two of them.

Sukuna sneered and moved closer to the bed. Yuuji’s instincts told him to move away, but he only raised his chin in defiance to the King of Curses looking down on him. Sukuna wrapped a hand around Yuuji’s ankle and dragged him across the bed, drawing him closer.

Yuuji continued to hug his middle, glaring up at Sukuna, as Sukuna lengthed his nails into filet knives. He didn’t back down, didn’t blink, as Sukuna trailed his claws over Yuuji’s legs, leaving thin red welts in their tracks. He cut a path over Yuuji’s arms, what he could of Yuuji’s abdomen, then up his chest, until he was pressing a palm against Yuuji’s throat, fingers tapping their claws on either side of Yuuji’s neck.

“Fine,” Sukuna acquiesced with a warning squeeze. “Keep it.”

“My Lord?” Uraume asked, their surprise written clearly on their face.

“Let him have the thing if he so desperately wants it,” Sukuna said. He smiled, small and closed lipped, secretive, as he looked down at Yuuji, as if he knew what Yuuji was thinking.

“And the cravings?”

“Your butchering skill should be sufficient. We’ll remove what we can. I’ll heal, life goes on,” Sukuna said, almost bored. It was as if the prospect of cutting himself to ribbons, often, and over the next few months, was as inconsequential an event as a mosquito’s birthday.

“My Lord, surely-”

“I’ve made my intentions clear. I’ll give the brat and the parasite what they need,” Sukuna said, cutting off Uraume’s argument. He left no room for further comment.

“Oh,” Sukuna said, pulling Yuuji closer by his throat, “but there is one thing that I want from you, should you wish to get your pound of flesh.”

“What?” Yuuji asked, voice breathy and choked out.

The smile widened, splitting Sukuna’s face as his eyes narrowed. He looked maniacal, a madness swirling within his scarlet eyes. 

“A binding vow.”

Yuuji said nothing.

“Bind yourself to me, from now to eternity. That you’ll be mine for life, in death, and into every life after this one.”

Yuuji swallowed, the movement made difficult by Sukuna’s palm against his throat. An eternity with Sukuna would be an eternity worse than Hell. He’d be bound, forever, to the King of Curses, never to escape, never to be free. They’d be tied together as long as the stars moved across the sky and then into the nothingness beyond.

In exchange, he’d have at least one moment, no matter how brief, where he’d have something that was his. Where he wouldn’t be completely and utterly alone. He’d have something to protect again. Something he could die for again.

He had no doubts that the child would be a monster. He wouldn’t be surprised if the child ripped itself free of Yuuji in an explosion of violence, of blood and gore, when the day came. No good could ever come from Sukuna, no matter what Yuuji’s influence might be. He knew he was carrying evil.

But.

But, the child was also his.

“I bind myself to you, from now to eternity. I’ll be yours in this life, in death, and into every life after this one.”

Sukuna barked a surprised laugh in Yuuji’s face, hauled him up by his neck, and sealed the vow with a devouring kiss.

Six Months Later…

As Sukuna had said, the hunger had never gone away, had only gotten worse. Even when he could eat no more flesh or drink any more blood, the hunger pains dogged Yuuji. The pain could only ever be eased, never erased, but he could learn to manage it. 

As he laid in the oversized bed that he shared with Sukuna when the King of Curses wasn’t out on a mission he focused on his breathing. He trailed his fingers over his swollen belly. Up, out. Right, hold. Down, in. Left, hold. Repeat.

The hunger—the baby—twisted his insides ‘round and ‘round. It was worse than it had been in a long while. Sukuna’s mission had gone on longer than they had planned for and his meat had run out a couple days ago. The remaining water-downed blood that Yuuji could drink took the sharpest edge of the hunger off, but he hadn’t slept from the pain. The exhaustion was wearing on him the worst. His diligence would wane and, before he knew it, he’d be biting himself, ripping meat free and slurping down blood. Or he’d be slicing strips from his thighs with a careless flick of his finger.

Scars littered his arms and legs from his slip ups and some that might not have been. Ovals of teeth overlapped. Lines crisscrossed. The large, ragged, rectangular scar on his outer left thigh from the mandolin was the worst. Tasted the best though.

His mouth watered thinking about it.

Up, out. Right, hold. Down, in. Left, hold. Repeat.

It was late evening and much of the compound was asleep, though it wasn’t silent in the bedroom. The day had been unusually hot for late autumn and the early evening humid, but it had cooled as darkness fell deeper and deeper. Enough so that Yuuji had opened the exterior doors to take advantage of the cool air and whispering breeze. Leaves rustled and insects chirruped, singing the solemn songs of the night. The compound cats piled on the exterior engawa, their purrs a soft, comforting rumble, though they’d wake up soon to stalk through the gardens.

Yuuji let the sounds of the night wrap around him as he tried to keep his mind clear. Meditation had never been his strong point but Uraume had been working on it with him hard. He still wasn’t great at it but he was sufficient enough to avoid tearing the kitchen apart in search of meat. Or attacking a servant to sink his teeth into, though the wing was strictly off limits to all except Uraume until Sukuna was back as a precaution. The raw meat and servant flesh was near useless though. Watered down Sukuna blood did better than either of those options.

His mouth watered thinking about it.

Up, out. Right, hold. Down, in. Left, hold. Repeat.

Yuuji rolled to his left side and curled an arm under his pillow to support his head. The interior shoji hadn’t so much as rattled since Uraume’s last check in over an hour ago. He didn’t expect them back until the morning, though he knew that if his foot so much as touched the tatami mats, Uraume would be up to check on him.

He wasn’t for sure, but he was confident in the thought that Uraume was running on less sleep than him. 

A breeze blew in and caressed his naked back, cooling the ever feverish skin, and Yuuji closed his eyes in relief. The compound may have had air conditioning but something about the fresh air upon him was reassuring and reinvigorating. 

It was the closest thing he could think to freedom.

The baby shifted and Yuuji grunted at the force of it as his internals rearranged themselves to accommodate the restless child. Without Sukuna’s flesh to eat, not only did Yuuji’s hunger grow, but so too did the child’s movements. It was as if the child were throwing a temper tantrum, expressing its unhappiness at the lack of food.

Yuuji turned his head further into his arm. The pale skin of his inner bicep, once smooth and soft, had taken the brunt of Yuuji’s cravings. The oval scars were thick on both biceps, once 

perfect indents of teeth had blurred together to create grotesque swirling patterns.

He licked his lips, tongue brushing against his skin and tasting hints of salty sweat and faded sage.

His mouth watered thinking about it.

Up, out. Right, hold. Down, in. Left, hold. Repeat.

The meditation was failing him and he was becoming more aware of the pit of hunger that emptied him as much as filled him. Seeming to sense Yuuji’s wavering conviction, the child moved again, a kick that pushed from within enough that an area of Yuuji’s belly distended. 

At least it hadn’t turned its claws on Yuuji. Its mirrored hunger hadn’t yet turned as ravenous as Yuuji’s.

Yuuji stopped his tracing and pressed down on his belly where the child had pressed out. Another kick came, firm, as if to let Yuuji know that it was aware that he was there. Then the child shifted again and it felt as if it had taken to flipping end over end. It felt as if vacuums were made and just as quickly filled again as the child practically thrashed within Yuuji.

His hand fisted and he pressed harder against his stomach.

The hunger would keep him awake much of the night but the child’s movements would make him downright restless. He hadn’t asked Uraume for a refill on the watered down blood. It was mostly water at this point anyway so he’d need a lot of it to settle the child and cut his hunger.

Yuuji licked his lips again. 

It would only be a little. Enough to cut the worst of the hunger and soothe the child.

He opened his mouth wide and bit, sinking his teeth into his flesh. His skin tore like tissue paper and blood burst forth. One bite would be enough. It was all he could afford. The rest would be drinking the blood until the flow slowed.

The blood was warm and thick as it filled his mouth, the copper flavoring sending his taste buds buzzing. The hunk of flesh was thick and juicy, tender in all the right ways. As Yuuji chewed, he savored the flavor with a small moan before swallowing it down. He placed his lips back to his arm and began drinking from the ragged hole left behind. He coaxed as much blood as he could, the thick liquid sliding down his throat in great gulps.

He was entranced by the flavor and relished it with each swallow. The flow of blood slowed with each pull and it was too soon that it was little more than a dribble. Yuuji pulled away, his arm a ghostly white, and licked the last remaining drops of blood first from his lips, then from where it had spilled over his arm.

The creak of a floorboard had him stilling and he lifted his head to find Sukuna watching him from the door. So engrossed in his feasting and drinking, Yuuji missed the sound of the door sliding open.

He’d been caught and would be reprimanded and punished accordingly.

Yuuji’s gaze roved over Sukuna’s form as he continued licking his arm clean. He was already in trouble for what he was doing so there was little reward for stopping. He might as well as finish the job that he had set out to do.

“You’ve been days without food,” Sukuna remarked. He slid the shoji door closed behind him. “What of the blood?”

“More water than blood,” Yuuji remarked. He gave a final lick and pushed himself up into a side sitting position with some effort. The dull, throbbing pain in his bicep was hardly an afterthought. “What took you so long?”

“I was delayed.”

“I’m aware. Why?”

“Watch your tongue, brat,” Sukuna said, voice cutting. 

It would have cowed Yuuji months earlier. As it was, Yuuji lowered his head in acquiescence, but offered no apology and little else. It wasn’t his place to question Sukuna, as he’d been told time and again, except he felt it his right when the King of Curses left him starving.

“There still remain a few sorcerer hold outs. One such group attempted an ambush on our return from Sapporo.”

“One group of sorcerers caused nearly a week’s delay?” There had to have been more to the story. A single group of sorcerers would hardly be a blip on Sukuna’s radar. It would be like swatting gnats for him.

“They were particularly bothersome. They had the Prison Realm.”

Yuuji jerked his head up, eyes wide in surprise. Sukuna had his back turned as he stripped from his hakama and kimono. The clothing was left to fall in a pile on the floor leaving Sukuna’s naked form and black markings on full display. He turned toward Yuuji and stepped from the hakama.

“That’s not possible,” Yuuji said. The Prison Realm had been lost after they’d broken Gojo-sensei out, if not outright destroyed by the Angel’s Jacob’s Ladder. If it had somehow remained in one piece and it really was the Prison Realm, then Sukuna shouldn’t—couldn’t—be stalking toward him.

“Surprised? Distressed? Disappointed, brat?” Sukuna asked. He stood at the side of the bed, towering over Yuuji. He reached out a lower arm and cupped Yuuji’s chin, lifting his face. “The Realm was a mere shell of what it once was. Waste of time and energy by those sorcerers. It was a cracked vessel. Pushing on the right pressure points and I was able to break free.”

As Yuuji looked up into Sukuna’s face, he realized he didn’t know how he felt. Supposing Sukuna had remained sealed, it wouldn’t have broken the binding vow between them. Neither of them knew exactly how the binding vow would work; neither had tested it. It wasn’t like Nanamin’s Overtime or Sukuna’s open domain. By the amorphous and open-ended nature of it, the effects wouldn’t be known. But Yuuji knew being sealed away wouldn’t negate it, whatever it ultimately was. 

And if Sukuna had been fully sealed, it would leave Yuuji alone. Alone with the child that would never be satiated. Alone in the compound. Alone with the curse users and curses that despised him or desired him. Alone with his thoughts.

Alone now. Alone forever. Alone for eternity.

It was a thought Yuuji found he didn’t care for. He was tired of being alone and, while Sukuna was a monster, Sukuna was a monster he knew. He doubted Uraume would hang around to watch over him. The servants surely wouldn’t. Those that Sukuna oversaw would take advantage of Sukuna’s absence. They’d fight to rise to position as the King of Curses. They’d kill him or they’d torture him or they’d use him, or maybe all three. 

He found that the thought of anyone other than Sukuna doing such things to him sent a cold spike of icy fear into the center of his chest. 

Yuuji rose to his knees, desperate for Sukuna, and reached for him. 

His hands wandered over Sukuna’s form, fingers tracing the paths of muscles and veering off to follow the jagged black markings, though he stayed clear of the belly mouth as it—ironically—had a tendency to bite.

Yuuji leaned into Sukuna and trailed wet, open mouthed kisses over his chest and abdomen. He let his tongue flick out, tasting Sukuna’s flesh and humming his pleasure at the flavor. The hunger renewed, hitting him like a freight train. Having what he craved so close, Yuuji let himself become consumed. He held out as long as he could, knowing that his first bite would be made all the sweeter. 

He couldn’t deny himself for long though.

Yuuji’s fingers curled and he dragged them down Sukuna’s body, hooking his blunt nails into the flesh of Sukuna’s hips. He tried to drag Sukuna closer, but he remained as immovable as ever. There would be no dictating when Sukuna came to bed, but Yuuji was determined to tempt Sukuna into joining him sooner rather than later.

He released one hip in favor of taking up Sukuna’s cock. It was half hard and heated, the skin silky beneath his palm. Yuuji stroked it with firm, slow strokes, twisting his hand as he reached the tip and squeezing harder as he met the base.

Like the rest of Sukuna, it was oversized and as thick as his wrist. The stretch when Sukuna entered him never got easier, the initial pain was always there, though Yuuji learned to take it. The pain, at times, even enhanced the pleasure if Yuuji had behaved particularly well.

Sukuna hardened further under Yuuji’s careful ministrations. With another twist of his wrist, Yuuji felt the smallest of shudders from Sukuna, and Yuuji took the opportunity to strike. Sukuna grunted above him in surprise as Yuuji sunk his teeth into his pectoral. The blood was awash in his mouth and Yuuji’s eyelashes fluttered in pleasure. 

The flavor was rich and sharp. It was revitalizing, lightning buzzing in his veins. The water-thinned blood was a flickering candle in a hurricane compared to the fresh blood that pumped from Sukuna’s body. Yuuji slurped it down like a man starved, swallowing mouthful after mouthful until the need for air overrode his hunger. He pulled back with a gasp, gulping air and licking his lips.

Fingers threaded their way into the hair at the base of his skull and drew him back to Sukuna. 

It was all the prompting Yuuji needed.

He struck out again, teeth sinking further and further until his mouth was filled with flesh. He tore it free with a spurt of blood, twisting his head to break the lingering strands of skin and muscle that clung to his reward. The connective tissue broke free and Yuuji chewed the ambrosia, swallowing it down with a pleased sigh. He released Sukuna’s hip and palmed at his own cock, not surprised to find it hard and leaking.

The hand in his hair curled until Sukuna was gripping the pink locks tightly. He pulled Yuuji away, putting space between them, and Yuuji let out a whimper of pain and disappointment.

He wasn’t done yet. He still hungered.

Sukuna didn’t move him far though, just enough that he could maneuver himself on the bed. He laid himself out, the wounds Yuuji inflicted closing rapidly to leave unblemished skin once more.

Impatience warred within Yuuji and ultimately won out. Sukuna would be irritated at Yuuji for doing what he pleased, and there was no doubt a double punishment would be waiting for him later, but Yuuji was stretched too thin to care.

The rush of Sukuna’s blood, flesh, and cursed energy flowing through him, reinvigorating him. It was a lightning storm beneath his skin, a high that wrapped like a cloud around his brain. Fire raged within him, power building and heightening with the hungers that fought for dominance like twin snakes.

Yuuji threw a leg over Sukuna’s hips and hovered over the King of Curses on his knees. He could feel Sukuna’s length between his cheeks and rolled his hips back against it, teasing the monster beneath him.

Wide palms engulfed his hips, holding him still as Sukuna used a third hand to hold his cock steady. When he felt Sukuna’s flared tip begin to dip past his rim, Yuuji grabbed the wrists of the hands holding him, and let his weight fall. He tossed his head back and cried out at the blinding pain, knowing that he’d torn himself in his eagerness to feel Sukuna inside him. Tears pricked his eyes, welling until they overflowed. His breath was harsh and ragged, his chest falling in great stutters.

Razor blades played along his nerves. His ass and lower back pulsed as if a white-hot fire poker had been pressed into him. He felt his guts rearrange to accommodate Sukuna’s size and fought down the urge to gag at the pain and fullness that filled him.

However, rather than wait and allow himself time to adjust, Yuuji pitched forward as much as he could, replaced his hands on Sukuna’s abdomen, one thumb hooking in the corner of the belly mouth, and rose. The drag of Sukuna’s cock against his walls was painful and dry, but Yuuji knew that it would become slick quickly from the blood. 

He dropped his weight back down and a fresh wave of tears fell. The groan that fell from his lips was high pitched and warbled. His fingers curled to claw pathetically at Sukuna. 

Despite the pain, Yuuji began to ride Sukuna, his pace slow to start, but picking up speed as the blood from his injuries lubricated and eased the friction between them, until he was bouncing on Sukuna’s cock. The added weight of his pregnant belly meant that his thighs burned from exertion quicker, but Yuuji fought through it and the hands on his hips helped guide his movements.

A hand appeared in front of his face, the meat of the thumb split with a deep red fissure.

The invite was clear and Yuuji was happy to accept it. He lifted one hand from Sukuna to cradle Sukuna’s proffered hand to his mouth. He wormed his tongue into the gash, spreading the flesh apart. He lapped at the blood he probed into flowing and nibbled along the cleancut edges. Pressing his face tighter against the hand, breathing became secondary as Yuuji gorged himself on Sukuna.

As Yuuji filled himself with more and more of Sukuna, his own cursed energy began to react. It seemed to vibrate deep within him, synchronizing with Sukuna’s, recognizing what had once been a part of him, what had awakened him.

The urge for more arose. Yuuji didn’t know where it came from, whether it was himself, the hunger, the child. He just knew it was a soul-deep litany that demanded Yuuji continue taking until there was nothing left.

The cravings sharpened and narrowed, and Yuuji pulled from the hand. He knocked it away and raked his blunt nails over the curve of Sukuna’s ribs. Cursed energy—his and Sukuna’s—buzzed in the tips of his fingers, stabbing pricks that itched. 

Yuuji willed his nails to lengthen into claws like’d seen Sukuna do so many times before. The image and sensations were vivid in his mind’s eye as they extended and sharpened. His cuticles burned like he’d given himself papercut after papercut. Then slowly, his nails elongated and blackened as they had in his thoughts.

Using both hands, slid his new found claws into Sukuna. He used his left hand to keep himself braced and began slicing away at Sukuna with his right. He split the skin and subcutaneous fat first and then cut at the muscles, tendons, and tissues. Each layer peeled away until the shiny bleached-white of a rib appeared. As precise as if he’d been using a scalpel, Yuuji cut away at the meat until he’d opened a cavity.

Blood-tinged saliva pooled in Yuuji’s mouth. His mouth dropped open as he panted in excitement and exertion. Drool began to slip from lips, dripping down his chin. Spittle fell against his swollen belly and rolled over the curve of it. More fell against Sukuna’s abdomen, some against his skin and some over the lips of the belly mouth.

Yuuji slid his hand beneath Sukuna’s rib, his touch reverent and gentle even as Sukuna took over fucking up into Yuuji, hips striking against Yuuji’s ass with wet slaps. Every thrust upward threatened to upend Yuuji, but he dug the claws of his left hand further into Sukuna to get a firmer handhold. The jostling caused his cock to bounce and he could feel it at times nudge against the underside of his belly, the tip dribbling with precome.

Still, Yuuji pushed his hand and arm further into Sukuna, pushing liver and lungs out of the way until he found what he sought. 

Sukuna’s heart pounded out strong, even beats, the rhythm calm despite Sukuna’s pistoning hips. Yuuji cradled it in his hand, squeezing the meaty organ with care. It was a delicacy that Yuuji often sought and was often denied, though Sukuna made no move to stop him from plucking what was his.

Like pulling an apple from a tree, Yuuji removed Sukuna’s heart. At the moment of detachment, Sukuna’s pace stuttered as he worked to grow a new one, but he was soon back at his task. Beneath his hand, Sukuna’s body shook, and around his hand, Sukuna’s muscle clenched.

The King of Curses was laughing.

Yuuji ignored him though, too elated by his prize to care for Sukuna and his games. He withdrew the still twitching heart, aortas drooping and spilling blood as the ventricles struggled to pump the depleting blood.

Yuuji straightened as much as he could and brought his other hand up to help cradle the massive organ. He bowed his head, as if in prayer, and lowered his mouth to the meat. The heart was warm against his lips and he wanted to weep at the beauty of it. Instead, he buried his teeth into it and tore at it in ravished worship. 

Pleasure rocked through with each bite. It was the height of ecstasy as Sukuna continued to fuck up into him, his hands tight on Yuuji’s hips, the grip punishing. There’d be deep purple bruises and ragged, bloody furrows when they were done. 

Yuuji dropped his head back, squeezing the heart over his mouth to extract what blood remained. Gore covered him, both his and Sukuna’s. There’d be little clean skin left by the end of the night. What wasn’t covered in blood, would be battered and bruised.

Beneath him, Sukuna picked up his pace, his thrusts becoming shallow and sharper as he forced his way deeper into Yuuji’s body. Pain spiked with each thrust, but so too did pleasure. The thrusts lost their rhythm as Sukuna neared his peak and chased his orgasm.

With a final thrust upward, Sukuna dragged Yuuji’s hips down to bury all of himself inside. Yuuji could feel Sukuna’s cock twitching and bucking against his walls, heat filling him like liquid fire. With another bite from the heart, Yuuji was moaning through his own release, cock untouched and spill cum against the underside of his belly and over the lips of the belly mouth, which was quick to lick the spend away.

Yuuji dropped his head toward his chest as his legs gave out and his weight came to fully rest against Sukuna’s hips. He panted, body becoming languid post feeding and post orgasm, but there was still heart to be had and he’d waste not.

His gaze roved over Sukuna beneath him. The King of Curses had a shark’s smile stretching his lips and dark glee dancing in his carmine eyes.

“This is new,” Sukuna said as he studied Yuuji’s face.

Yuuji lifted his sights to the mirror that hung over the headboard of the bed. Reflected back at him was himself, covered in blood just as he knew he would be. But he also saw that his golden eyes had taken on a honied glow, bright in a way they had never been before. 

As he continued to stare at his reflection, black markings welled to the surface of his skin, fading in until they were a solid black. They followed similar paths Sukuna’s did, but they flowed similar to the womb tattoo he’d had pressed into him as compared to the jagged slashes of Sukuna’s own and a rounded version of Sukuna’s mark filled in on his forehead.

The scarred slits where Sukuna’s eyes had once peered from split into sanguineous fissures and his vision doubled, then resolved, as a second set of red eyes blinked open.