Work Text:
Tragedy was expected. To be ripped apart piece by piece, shoved into unforgiving jowls filled to the brim with sharp teeth and boiling hot saliva.
The expectation of gore, heartache and ruin. To be devoured in both body and spirit— your very soul being swallowed, never to be reborn.
You’d seen it, watching as life was ripped away from those stupid enough to believe they could be saved. Internal organs littering the floor, blood splattered on forever stained walls, the smell of homemade stew filling the air. A horrific and complex mix of death and hunger.
It was constant and you knew that, eventually, it would be your turn. You were not stupid, you did not believe in a savior— a way out. Your only belief was the reality plaguing your every waking breath.
Perhaps, that was why you were still alive.
Walking with your head down, ears dulled to the sounds around you, eyes no longer bursting at the seams over senseless bloodshed. You were ready for tragedy, in fact, maybe a part of you even longed for it.
You stopped caring over what was supposed to be normal. You stopped caring about anything at all.
He must have noticed. ten
The possibility’s of how he noticed were seemingly endless. Maybe, it was the lack of tension in your frame as you scrubbed the floorboards of his latest victim. Maybe, it was the way you stopped flinching at the sounds of ripping flesh and snapping bones.
Or maybe, and this was the most likely of the three— it was because you forgot yourself, and looked Ryomen Sukuna in the eyes for a few endless seconds while serving his dinner.
It was a miracle you were alive to tell the tale of that encounter. A mere servant had no right to look a God in the eyes.
They were red, swarming with life— though, even now, you’re unsure if that life was his own, or if it was a product of the dripping flesh between his teeth begging for another chance.
Regardless of the how and why— he began testing you. If you could even call it that.
Calling you by name to have you stand in the dining hall as he feasted, the fact that he even knew your name was unfortunate all on its own. He forbid you from looking away for even a moment, your head facing forward. It felt unnatural. Your shoulders began to ache.
You noticed quite quickly that not all of his meals were mortal. It made your stomach churn in a way you still don’t fully understand.
He did not need humans to survive, he simply chose them as his meat of choice. Somehow, that was worse.
When it was mortal, with fingers and toes, a once beating heart and un-lived dreams— you started being called to the kitchen to help prepare.
Uraume was much kinder than you had ever allowed yourself to consider them to be. Strict and a sharp like the wind during an ice storm, but their eyes spoke a kindness you weren’t entirely sure you deserved. Like the pillowy snow children play in after the fact.
Not that you had considered them much up to that point, they were untouchable, just as Sukuna was. But still, it was a nice change of pace to the grueling hours of butchering and de-boning.
Their steady voice and instructions helped you forget. To ignore the want-to-be thoughts about who exactly you were skinning and throwing in a pot with carrots.
The sight was almost humorous once you shaved it down to an unrecognizable extent.
They were also an excellent teacher, the process of cooking such— elaborate— meals, slowly becoming second nature as the days went on. And, unfortunately, that meant you started to be left alone for meal preparation. Sukuna’s meals.
Cutting, cooking, serving. Watching.
It played out like a nightmare, though, you were awake and fully aware of the world around you. Pinching yourself would do nothing more than leave a bruise on your already blotched skin.
The new routine had shifted your numbness to the world around you. It was harder to ignore the sounds of blood splatter and ripping skin when you were the only one doing it. Your spine began to feel like jelly and your knees acted as if they were no longer there.
Though, bouncing back wasn’t as hard as it should have been. After a month of acclimation, your ears and eyes glossed over once again. Your insides never quite recovering from the endless hours of unwelcome tremors that had once plagued you. Your stomach was hollow, and your throat thick.
—
You were watching again, just as you did every day. Your hands clasped in front of you as you stood four or five feet away from Sukuna’s cushion at the table, eyes fixated on the way the mouth on his stomach lapped up any and all crumbs or droppings that the one on his face had missed.
You vaguely wondered if the food tasted the same regardless of which taste buds touched the meal.
Dinner was always a silent exchange, nothing more than the crunch of bone and the ripping of tendons to fill the air. Of course, you were foolish for thinking it would stay that way for long.
“You aren’t afraid.” He called, leaning back on his two bottom arms as he crossed the others over his chest, his meal half finished and cooling.
All four of his eyes were locked with yours, that same deep red color ripping straight into the size and shape of your soul.
It took longer than it should have for you to realize he was expecting a response to his non-question.
“No, I suppose not.”
You weren’t. The fear of death and the threat of unyielding pain had left you long ago. You were well aware of the tragic fate that awaited you and all others who dared live within the King of Curses presence.
You were disgusted, of course you were. But even that was slowly fading as you took in your reality. One can only cook and serve human flesh so many times before it starts to look just as mundane as chicken or fish.
The only thing you truly feared was losing your own humanity in the process of serving such a horrible monster.
“Why?”
He was smiling, an odd look for someone who could reduce you to nothing with a single swipe of his finger. It was quite different from his usual boredom or anger, all this time you assumed those were the only emotions he had.
His teeth weren’t as sharp as you expected them to be, his canines only slightly more elongated than your own. It was disturbing to see for a reason you couldn’t quite place.
Now that you think about it, you’d never seen his face this clearly, years of having a bowed head saving you from such a fate. The bone like mask holding two of his eyes looked quite painful— you wondered if it was.
“I’m going to die regardless.”
He seemed to enjoy that answer, his grin widening. If you weren’t preparing for the possibility of death in the moment, you may have even seen a twinkle in his eye as he looked you up and down.
“You prepared my meal today, correct?”
You nodded, your eyes dropping to the half empty plate that still lay before him.
“Yes, I hope it’s to your liking.”
Uncrossing his upper arms, Sukuna reached a hand out to his plate, ripping flesh from bone in one swoop, the juices of the slow cooked meat dripping between his pointer finger and thumb. It made you nauseous.
“Why don’t you try it? A chef mustn’t serve without sampling after all.”
His frame was much larger than your own, so it shouldn’t have surprised you when he managed to hold his newfound prize directly in front of you without moving his body so much as an inch. The reminder of his all powerful presence wasn’t something you favored.
The cooked flesh looked just as it did when you served it. Today, The King had asked for a roast, as he usually did when his victim was someone he wanted to savor. If the rumor between servants were to be believed, this roast was once a sorcerer.
You’d never paid any mind to the rumors before, they didn’t concern you. But now, with your new position within the shrine as a cook, and the what-used-to-be body of a man being pressed towards your lips— you cared more than you’d like to admit. Which would be any at all.
You almost didn’t want to speak, nervous that breathing in the aroma would somehow taint your already doomed soul.
“If I say no….will you kill me where I stand?”
Sukuna chucked, sitting up straight before grabbing you with his lower arms and pushing you to your knees, pulling you towards the table in such a quick fashion you couldn’t even process the movement properly.
It was dizzying and oddly enticing, like the half a moments notice moments before a dog fight.
The flesh of the roast was still at your mouth as he spoke.
“No, you will not die if you deny me. Though, regardless of what you choose, you will partake in this meal with me.”
The words seemed to burn through his chest, a smokey aura vibrating through the air and into your lungs. This was more than a threat— it was a promise from a King.
To accentuate his point, he pressed his hand harder into your face, the pressure forcing your lips to part as the meat touched your teeth.
The message was clear. Either you eat of your own free will— or he will feed you against it.
You chose the former. The last glimmer of hope you had to avoid such a fate melting away with the unsettling flavors on your tongue.
He watched as you chewed with such enthusiasm, it was as if he could taste it himself. As if the mere concept of you eating another human being stirred something dormant. It felt dangerous in a way you hadn’t felt in years.
His thumb brushed over your top and bottom lip as he held your chin steady, his other hand clutching the back of your head, long thick fingers digging deep into the hair clinging to your scalp.
It hurt— feeling as though pools of your own blood and brain matter would litter the floor, just as had been the fate for so many others. But, the drips never came, and the fingers never left.
It felt as though he were daring you to try and spit out his offering. You would have, if you didn’t know that denying this behemoth of a creature anything would equal a slow and agonizing death.
Life itself being this painful while within his presence, was an extraordinary thing all on its own.
It felt like ash in your mouth at the time, a violation of all things mortal. Though— looking back. You can understand why someone capable of eating like this whenever they wished, would choose to do so with such frequency.
You felt powerful, sitting directly next to the strongest and most horrifying man on earth as he slow fed you the remains of his last victory. In some deluded sense, it somehow felt like you’d done something worth celebrating. As if you were strong too.
The stinging in your scalp amplified the temporary delusion, as if you had battle scars that needed tending.
Even worse, the hollow pit in your stomach seemed to fill. Though, the thickness of your throat only grew.
You held onto that simple aching fact as if it were a lifeline.
—
Things were— different, after that night.
You couldn’t decide on if you welcomed the changes or not.
Never again were you fed human remains. Never again did you so much as step foot in the kitchen. But, every evening, you still found yourself in the dining hall. The only difference was that you were eating too.
Luckily, you got to choose your meals, usually fish or soup. Regardless of what you chose, it was prepared with much more care than any of your meals in the past had been. You weren’t sure what was going on. It didn’t feel threatening, but it didn’t feel safe either.
For the first time since the moment you entered Ryomen Sukuna’s presence, you weren’t sure what to expect.
Dinner stayed quiet for the first few days, the only thing you felt genuinely grateful for was the mind numbing sound of your own chewing to take up some of the space, and to override all of his.
Of course, just like last time, you were a fool for thinking that’s how things would stay.
It seemed as if you were destined to feel more and more foolish as time went on.
“What thoughts plague your mind? You always seem to have a question brewing.”
Sukuna’s voice was deep and assertive, though it held no malice in this moment.
He was bored, it seemed. Itching for a conversation you didn’t know how to give.
You weren’t sure what he meant by that, and you responded as such,
“I apologize, but I’m uncertain by what you mean?”
Sukuna’s eyes narrowed as he purposely fed his stomach a piece of hard gristle. It upset you how unbothered you felt by it. As if you were getting accustomed to his body and its many quirks— the feeling of disgust that you felt for so long was as small as an ember after a cold night.
“You have questions about my being, do you not? I’m giving you a chance to ask them.”
Looking down at your own food, you pondered— searching deep for any question or fleeting thought you’ve had over the past month or so that wouldn’t put you in an unsavory position.
Anything mouth related was off the table, you didn’t wish to have your appetite ruined today.
You took a deep breath before you replied, choosing your words carefully. You did not fear death, but you were starting to realize that you would prefer if you could avoid it.
“Does..does your face hurt?” You pointed to your own, right where the mask of bone would be if you swapped places. “It seems uncomfortable, and I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Sukuna seemed to swallow your words, it almost seemed as though you’d taken him off guard.
“I give you free rein to ask me any question about my body, and your first instinct is to ask me if I’m in pain?”
Nodding, you swallow, feeling the thickness of your throat tighten. Perhaps that was the wrong question to ask.
He leans back, eyes watching your frame carefully.
“No, it doesn’t hurt. I believe it’s bone, though, it’s been there from before I can even remember.”
That takes you by surprise. You’ve always assumed it was intentional— a mask used for cursed energy output or something— it wasn’t your area of expertise.
It was rare to even see a curse in the shrine— apart from the man himself. You suppose that made you a bit spoiled.
To know it was a birthright, made you look at the being before you with uncertainty.
“Now,” he started, leaning forward again, “ask me a question that doesn’t suck.”
It was an unexpected use of words coming from someone so horrifying, you couldn’t help but stifle a small laugh behind a fake cough.
If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. Though, you did notice the way the eyes within the mask lost focus for a few moments after the fact, looking wildly in multiple directions.
Clearly, he wanted something he could bounce off of, maybe the mouths would have to come into play— his arms were mostly self explanatory. Extra limbs weren’t unheard of, though rare, it never peaked your interest enough. He simply had four arms— just as you had two.
Another deep breath, your fingers gripping hard into the fabric lain over your legs, you decide to go for it. If death was inevitable, there was no point in worrying, just as you’ve lived every other day thus-far.
“Do things taste different..? Depending on where the food goes?”
Sukuna eyed you for a few moments before responding, his shoulders slumping as he leaned back once more.
Apparently, this was an acceptable question.
“Occasionally, yes. Seasonings do at least. Different tolerances to spice depending on usage.”
It made sense. So you nodded once more, your hands loosening as you rub them along the dented fabric.
“You really aren’t afraid of me are you?” He spoke again, head resting on his hand now, elbow on the table, his meal seemingly entirely forgotten in exchange for quizzing you.
You decided to just answer, your last attempt at chewing on your words still running through your mind. Sukuna didn’t seem to be in a very bloodthirsty mood at the moment, if you’re killed later on for anything you say now, at least you can die knowing you spoke your mind.
“I wouldn’t say that— I don’t know.” You sighed,
“I know you can kill me whenever please, and I can’t stop you.. so I’ve become..alright with it? I suppose? I don’t desire to be tortured or killed, but I know that I’ll end up dead someday, and I know it likely won’t be by any natural means.”
He hummed, turning back to his food, a gleam of something unknown in his eye.
“Interesting.”
Your throat didn’t feel swollen anymore.
—
There was a presence around you wherever you went.
Tending to the guardians, scrubbing the floors, doing the laundry. It didn’t matter where you were or what you were doing— you were being hovered— observed.
It made your skin crawl, but it was manageable. The only time it left was during dinner. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that, for whatever reason, Ryomen Sukuna was keeping tabs on you.
Apparently, you’ve peaked his interest.
For reasons you couldn’t possibly understand, you didn’t seem to mind.
Part of you, not as deep down as you would have expected, really wanted to speak with him again.
Unfortunately, dinner stayed quiet more often than not.
You tried not to let that bother you.
—
The gardens were beautiful at night. Stars shining as bright as the prettiest stones while the flowers slept. The soft sound of the stream breaking through the chirping of crickets as the wind breezed past.
It was probably your favorite place to be.
It was a nightly routine for you, one you refused to stop participating in even after Sukuna put his eyes on you. Giving up your alone time with the moon and fauna just wasn’t on the table— even if you weren’t actually alone anymore.
You weren’t bothered by the extra heartbeat or the eyes that bore into your back, it was easy to get used to. It wasn’t as though day to day life before now was much different.
The Kings eyes didn’t need to be on you for you to feel his ever growing presence, especially within his own home. As a servant, his aura followed you everywhere, now— it was just a bit more direct.
He hadn’t killed you yet, and for whatever reason, that was enough.
Others have been slain in the time you’ve been within his immediate presence. And yet you live.
Beggars, being sliced open in broad daylight, asking for nothing more than protection from ravenous curses ripping their villages apart.
Sorcerers and curse users alike, being toyed with and beheaded right outside the temple walls. Sukuna’s gleeful laugh shaking the very floor you kneel on.
Servants being killed during dinner for any number of reason, their remains being washed away by others while he dined with you.
You never dared look at the corpses, but you found yourself wondering why you had put that rule in place more and more every day.
It was hard to feel human anymore, and the fear you felt after that realization needed to be swept away with the scent of roses. And so, to the garden you went.
His eyes bore sharper today. You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was closer than he appeared. Even without using his abilities, you felt yourself being sliced to pieces.
This time, you weren’t surprised when his voice broke the air. A fool no longer in the eyes of a God.
Perhaps that was a good thing.
“What ails you.”
Sukuna was good at making gentle questions into harsh demands.
He stood behind you, completely out of sight. His nightly shadow nowhere to be found due to the position of the moon itself. If not for the deep rasp of his voice, and the cascading heat enveloping your spine— you wouldn’t have even known he was there.
“If I respond truthfully, will you kill me?”
He hummed, the ground shaking as he stepped away to sit along the edge of a rose bush, his body facing towards your side as you kneeled in the center of the floral garden circle.
“No, I suppose not.”
The sentence was a familiar one, spoken by you during a time that felt as if it were years ago. You loosely wondered if he was mocking you.
The gentle breeze coated your lungs as you spoke, thorns squeezing their way into your heart,
“I worry for my humanity. I feel as though I’m becoming numb to things that no human ever should.”
It was odd— speaking your concerns out loud, to a beast no less.
Though, you couldn’t say it didn’t make you feel just a tad bit lighter.
“What a stupid thing to concern yourself with,” he snorted, an almost silent chuckle escaping his throat, “with all of my power, I’ve never once considered the legitimacy of my own humanity.”
You were not facing him, your eyes downcast to the paths of rock, grass and dirt that surround you.
“Your humanity?”
It poured out of your mouth like lace. Sukuna didn’t seem to mind.
“While I don’t fault you for believing otherwise, I am a human being. Though—“ he breathed, his head tilting towards the moon, “I don’t really care what I am. Curse, human, ghost, God. I’m going to live just as I please regardless of a label on my morality.”
Taking in the newfound information was harder than watching your friends be slaughtered. To think a man— a mortal curse user— could do so much without batting an eye.
And yet— he still spoke of his own humanity as if it were fact.
“May I ask another question, My Lord?”
It was a reference to the one and only time you learned anything about him. You desired to know more.
“Drop that ‘My Lord’ shit and we’ve got a deal. You’ve never used it before, don’t start using it now.”
A fair point— you realized. You hadn’t referred to him properly even once in your time of speaking face to face.
“Would you ever consider becoming something else? A curse? Or an actual God? I’m sure you could find a way.”
He wasted no time with his response, clearly, this was something he wanted to talk about.
“I have plans in place so I may live freely, though, I’m not quite done living the life I have now to begin my preparations in earnest. Perhaps, when the world shifts, you will be reborn to see me once again.”
The thought warmed your heart. To be reborn even after death. It seemed like, at least for the moment, your soul was safe from his wrath.
He didn’t plan on devouring you whole.
“I think that would be lovely.”
“Perhaps I’ll arrange your own preparations, just for the cause.”
This got you to look at him, a quirk in your brow.
Amused by your frantic and confused look, he continued,
“You do not fear being killed by me, though you do not wish for it. You’ve willingly shared a meal with me, though you had the opportunity to deny me. You turn a blind eye to my carnage, something most mortals cannot even comprehend.”
“And—“ he continued, standing and making his way towards you, “you feared your very soul was changing, simply because you do not despise me.”
He stood before you, his hands gripping your own and pulling you up and towards him, another hand pooling against your face and holding your cheek within its palm.
“These are the requirements a King needs for a Queen. To be awed, feared, and wanted.”
You couldn’t speak.
“I do not feel love— but I am nothing, if not hungry. I’m full of greed and gluttony, the only thing missing from my throne is another. I desire a full picture.”
Sukuna leaned down, his body all but encompassing your own, the moons light vanishing beyond his shoulders.
“You already belonged to me,” he whispered, leaning closer and closer, his tongue lapping out of his mouth and across your uncovered cheek. The saliva was hot— it felt as though it were searing through your skin.
“Now, you’ll belong to me forever.”
You wanted to be disgusted, to fight back or beg to be killed— but all you could do was nod.
Your life was ending in a tragedy unlike any you expected.