Archive of Our Own

Had it not been for the meddling hands of fate he would never have looked twice at the whelp. Young, cocky and plain stupid. Take any man in his youth and you will find him to be just the same. He’s nothing special, neither in looks nor in technique. Sukuna has slaughtered hundreds like him. He remembers not a single one by name or by face. It would be meaningless. And yet.

It does not make sense. There is nothing that makes the boy stand out. By all means, he should be just another faceless corpse strewn across his path. Nothing more, nothing less.

Why is this one different?

Fate decides to teach him. Makes the whelp his vessel. His prison. It takes Sukuna a while to understand there even is a lesson to be learned here.

So set in his ways he tries to treat this one the same as the others. For he is. Weak. Naive. Nice to a fault even as others trample all over him, his vessel will laugh and thank them for it. It infuriates and embarrasses him in equal measure.

And still golden eyes meet his in defiance. I reject you, they say.

And Sukuna hates it. Why are you so willing to break for others, yet defy me!

xXx

Words cannot describe the indignities the King of Curses is forced to endure at the hands of this impertinent brat.

“Sorry, sensei,” he says casually as he slaps his palm against his cheek, cutting Sukuna off mid-threat. Swats him like a mere fly. “He does that sometimes.”

Even worse, he pulls his hand back before Sukuna can bite off a finger or two. See how he likes getting his fingers eaten, the little fool. It’s almost humiliating how easily the boy seems to be able to force him back within, his mouth forced to retreat from skin as the sheer willpower of this kid suppresses him.

The King of Curses boils with rage.

“Don’t worry about it, Yuuji-kun,” the Six Eyes waves off his vessel’s apology with a casual flick of his wrist. “It’s already impressive how well you manage to control The King.”

The last words are said with obvious mockery and Sukuna seethes.

Your death will not be a quick one, he vows. Can already imagine the possibilities. Exsanguination seems fitting. Draw hooks through his flesh and watch him bleed to death from a thousand cuts. As his blood paints a pretty picture underneath dangling feet. It can last for days.

“Is it really that impressive?,” the irritating voice of his vessel cuts through his fantasy. “I mean, it’s not like I even have to try hard. I bet anyone would be able to do it.”

These insults. Sukuna will remember every one of them.

The Six Eyes tsk tsk tsks obnoxiously but the grin on his face reveals that the swell in Sukuna’s cursed energy amuses him. “That’s where you’re wrong, dear Yuuji. I believe you are the only one who’s capable of that. That’s what makes you very special~”

“I’m special?,” his vessel questions critically.

You’re really not, Sukuna growls but is ignored. The cheek of them to think of themselves as extraordinary simply because they somehow manage to deal with one part of himself. How naive. How short-sighted. The other parts of his being are out there, waiting. Sukuna can hear them singing to him. Like the dying screams of bleeding men on the battlefield.

At night, when the human sleeps, Sukuna is at his most powerful. He hates to acknowledge that his vessel manages to suppress him so effortlessly even whilst unconscious. But he quickly learns that the boy’s spirit is most vulnerable then. So even though the body continues to resist him he can sink his claws into the brat’s soul and drag him into his domain.

“So you think of yourself as special, do you?”

The brat paints a pathetic picture, screaming in the water below. With a twist of his wrist his hands had been cut off. With another his legs had followed. Now they merrily bob in the murky liquid every time the boy splashes about. It really is entertaining in its pitiful display.

“Fuck!” The kid curses and sobs.

“In all my years of living I have found that the more pathetic something is, the more beautiful the songs of their suffering.” He indulges in memories of days long past, when sacrifices were made in his name and blood was fed to him through golden goblets. “Like so.” Another slice divorces his vessel’s torso from the rest of his body. Just below the heart. He shrieks and chokes on his own spit.

What to cut off next, Sukuna muses. The eyelids perhaps? He can keep this going for a long time. Dawn is still hours away.

“Fuck you,” the insolent boy rasps at him, eyes shining with unshed tears. But behind them burns the brat’s deep defiance, bright and strong still.

It pisses Sukuna off and in a moment of leaving his temper unchecked he shuts the brat up by taking off his head. The small body crumbles, dead. He leans back in his throne and sighs. A slight miscalculation on his part, nothing more.

No matter. Many more nights will follow.

xXx

Truth be told, the King of Curses finds himself bored a lot. It cannot be helped. Every time he tries to flex his control, pierce holes into the wall of control he finds himself surrounded by, he is rebuffed. It’s only a matter of time. Two pieces of himself have been returned to him now. A few more and no more will he be forced to endure here. The binding vow is already in place. In the meantime he contents himself with tasting his vessel’s blood during the night and restoring his strength (napping) during the day.

Impressions from the outside world pass him by. Colours, voices, feelings. He mostly closes his eyes and brushes them off. During moments when his host’s stupidity is too much to bear he might comment, lest his dear human forget his own patheticness.

He knows the students are currently training. The Six Eyes is away on some business or another. Sukuna cares not. The youths’ squabbling is easy enough to tune out.

When it comes to combat his vessel is not half bad. He’s all instinct and no actual talent, but Sukuna can see potential there. If the boy manages to use his brain some day he may even be capable of putting his extraordinary strength to good use.

The Ten Shadows boy is more impressive. Though not the most exceptional he has ever encountered the rarity and strength of his curse technique more than make up for it. Miles ahead of his host, that’s for certain. But that’s not saying much. His hand-to-hand combat skills are atrocious though.

The woman is prideful and arrogant but there’s little bite behind that bark. Every move of hers screams inexperience. She is most balanced, possessing talent both in close combat and in her cursed technique. Neither are in any way extraordinary though.

That’s about it. Sukuna would be hard pressed to tell any of the others apart. For after all what difference does one ant have from another, to a King. He will eradicate them all the same.

“So, Itadori,” the woman says conversationally during a break, “I heard your execution got pushed back by Gojo.”

His host doesn’t even flinch at the reminder of his death. “Jup.”

“I guess that goofy guy is the real deal, huh.”

The Ten Shadow user grimaces. “Unfortunately. Gojo may not look (or act) like it, but he is the strongest in the jujutsu world. The higher ups may not like him but they’re too scared to go against him.”

She whistles. “He’s that good, huh.” Then she jerks her chin at his host. “Ain’t your highness supposed to be the strongest?”

Again with the disrespect towards his title. Sukuna growls and thinks about branding it into the soft flesh of her back. The thought of sizzling meat makes him remember the feeling of hunger.

“Hell no!,” his vessel protests and jumps up, waving his arms around. “When Sukuna got out sensei decimated him. Pow pow and ha-yaaa! No contest at all! Right?”

The Ten Shadow brat shrugs, then concedes, “More or less.”

“As long as sensei is here Sukuna is toast,” the impudent child laughs and Sukuna rages at the disrespect.

Tonight you will suffer the pain of a thousand deaths.

The subtle shudder running through his host eases his anger some.

Snap snap, go the fragile little bones in the human body.

The kid gasps and stubbornly presses his teeth together. His left arm hangs limply at his side, broken and useless. His right clutches desperately at his chest, where his little ribs break into two every time the King of Curses snaps his fingers. He observes, enjoys the misery in the air and keeps going. One by one.

“Stop!,” the human tries to command him. A mistake Sukuna is quick to correct.

Two more ribs snap in two. Their sharp edges purposefully bite into soft flesh. The boy screams now, short and raw with a throat dry as sandpaper. His white teeth are streaked in beautiful red. It runs down the side of his mouth and along his pale skin. Sukuna has always liked the colour.

“You keep running your impudent mouth all day long, yet look at you now.”

A hateful look gets sent his way and he can’t help but grin.

“Go on, try and throw a punch. ‘Pow pow’, was it? Pathetic.”

Aaah, the scent of humiliation has always carried the perfect amount of bitterness.

“Shut up!” He stands on shaky legs.

Can’t have that now. He watches as the brat’s spine break with an audible crunch and pure agony radiates from the small body as he crumbles into himself.

“How fortunate for you that your friends can’t see you right now,” Sukuna taunts from above. He leers down cruelly. “Look at you. So breakable. So weak.” Blood flows and flows. Like incense its scent carries all the way to his nose. “How utterly pathetic.”

“Stop!”

Sukuna grins. “Beg me.”

Gold eyes meet his and the teen hisses at him. “Go to hell.”

Such disrespect is rewarded by his skull carving into itself, killing him slowly yet all too soon. Well, the King sighs after, not like there was much of a brain in there anyway. Still he finds himself irritated thinking about those rebellious eyes defying him. He’ll be sure to break that as well. Next time.

xXx

Watching the sorcerers fight curses (or each other) tends to be a hit-or-miss thing for him. At times the adrenaline rush experienced by his vessel manages to infect him as well, making his dormant muscles buzz with anticipation. Other times secondhand embarrassment has him fighting the urge to sigh.

He has contemplated simply letting the body die more than once. There are only three parts of himself within that would perish along with it. The other seventeen would be more than enough for him to occupy the throne of the world’s strongest once more. And in time he would grow stronger again, surpass even his former height and continue to rise.

But every time he indulges that train of thought he comes up to the irrefutable fact that in order for his seventeen other pieces to unite they would need a new vessel. And the odds of finding another one of those are slim to none. An unfortunate fact truly, but a fact nonetheless.

So, the body must live. But as with everything else the brat fights him on this. He throws himself into every fight like he wants it to be his last. Instead of creating distance, analysing and attacking with precision he throws himself head first at anything he is pointed at. It’s beyond reckless and if Sukuna hadn’t seen his survival instincts in action he would think the kid has a death wish.

The amount of subtle healing Sukuna has had to perform during these past few months surpasses all the healing he did in his last century of living. One day his patience reaches his limit.

Cease being this incompetent and at least try and use one of your braincells!

His host yelps, though whether it’s because he’s surprised by Sukuna’s commentary or the curse narrowly missing his head by no more than an inch he cannot tell.

“Stop distracting me!,” the brat bitches and throws himself to the side. He runs and pathetically uses a tree as cover.

Why. You could not fight any worse than this.

“You are such an asshole,” the teen pants. “A little help might be nice?”

Sukuna smirks. This is not the first time the brat has tried to make up his own lack of abilities by making use of Sukuna’s.

Beg.

As expected he is met with stubborn silence and the boy looks around. Fear and a frantic anxiety pump through the body.

What a truly contemptible vessel I must bear.

“Cut it out!,” the teen whispers, “I have to-”

The tree splinters above his vessel’s head and faster than the human can react the curse crashes through the trunk. It’s an ugly creature, Sukuna muses. Crawling on all fours like the lowlife it is, repeating only a few words over and over again. Sukuna senses jealousy and deep seated envy within it. A pity really. Envy tastes delicious.

A little bit should be enough, he decides. It takes little effort to allow his cursed energy to pulse through the body. Just for a second though. He doesn’t want the creature to run off after all. He uses only just enough to make it back off for a second, confused and wary. Just enough so his host can move out of range and not get them killed.

He practically serves him a golden opportunity on a silver platter. But of course the teen is too stupid to see that. He wastes time wiping blood from his cheek and clenching sweaty fists.

The curse is not as stupid and swipes forward with its front legs. Razor sharp they cut through even more trees. His vessel makes an embarrassing “Eeep!” and barely dodges. The next cut comes even closer, cuts through his clothes and artfully draws a red line across his stomach.

The teen stumbles backwards, less dodging and more wildly throwing his body in different directions and hoping for the best.

Do you actually have a death wish?

“I- ah! I’m trying really hard not to die here- oh shit!”

This is embarrassing.

“You’re not exactly helping- Gwah!”

‘Helping’ is not what the King of Curses tends to be known for. Could he use his cursed energy to have that sorry excuse for a curse scrambling for the hills? Yes. Could he use his vessel and restore him to his full strength? Easily. But why oh why would he ever do such a thing.

Dying may actually be preferable to having to watch you fumble around pathetically like this.

Spite (and luck) enable the teen to summon every last bit of his cursed energy and land a hit that throws the curse back. It hisses and screeches but this time his host reacts appropriately and before it can get back up he puts it out of its misery.

“There!,” he exclaims and actually sounds proud of himself. “I did it. Shit, I actually did it! Take that, Sukuna.”

The King of Curses yawns loudly.

Truly I am in awe from witnessing your utter mediocrity. Bravo.

“At least acknowledge my victory!” Wobbly human legs collapse. From blood loss probably.

Sukuna only closes his eyes again and sinks into his own thoughts. He senses the Six Eyes nearby so the body will be safe for now without his intervention.

“You want me to acknowledge you?,” he mocks at night. “What is there for me to acknowledge? What about you could I possibly respect?”

He waits for an answer despite knowing there will be none. It’s hard to speak without a tongue after all.

“Your lack of talent?”

He didn’t feel like listening to pitiful sobs today. But that’s all he took. For now he circles the brat and enjoys the frantic movement his vessel makes in an attempt at following his movement.

“Your lack of brain?”

What to do, what to do. He digs his claws into open bits of flesh, just a quick tease before moving on.

“Your utter disregard for your own life?”

Ah yes. He has not skinned anyone in so long.

Golden eyes snap to his when he steps close, their noses almost touch.

“Tell me, how can I respect someone who does not even respect himself?”

There is no more talking after that but to his utter frustration the brat doesn’t break that night either.

xXx

“Yuuji-kun! Your favourite sensei has arrived~”

“Gojo-sensei! Are you alright? You were gone for so long!”

The Six Eyes bastard actually blushes. “It warms my heart when you worry about me, Yuuji.”

The Ten Shadow kid gags in tandem with Sukuna.

“Now now, Megumi, I know you missed me too. And look, I even brought you all souvenirs!”

“I don’t like sweets.” The woman turns away in disinterest.

“Me neither. But sensei already knew that, didn’t you.” The Ten Shadows brat clicks his tongue.

“I do!”

“And that’s why Yuuji-kun is my favourite~” The Six Eyes doesn’t even pretend to have brought anything for his other students, too busy heaping affection on his host. “Close your eyes! I got the good ones!”

Like some pathetic puppy his vessel obeys, even opens his mouth in expectation. His trusting nature disgusts Sukuna to his core. Yet there is something else nagging at him. He can’t remember ever having felt something like it before.

He growls unhappily and returns to his own thoughts.

“How many times must we go through this unnecessary rebellious tantrum of yours?”

Sukuna is frustrated tonight. Because he has lost count of all the ways he has taken the brat apart and still he is met with nothing but fool-hearted resistance.

Over and over again he digs in his claws and tears flesh. And the brat bends beautifully every time. But never does he break.

The thing that irritates Sukuna the most is that he has crushed thousands of spirits before. He has the process down to a science at this point: Apply pain, watch spirit break. And if that doesn’t work: Apply more pain, watch spirit break.

They are standing opposite each other. He hasn’t touched the human yet. He is in no mood for games tonight. He has a purpose and he will see it through.

“Why do you insist on resisting the inevitable?”

Effortlessly he breaks both of his legs, but he doesn’t even hang back to enjoy the suffering, the atmosphere. He crouches before his host and rests the tips of his claws against his stomach. Then he waits.

“Can you not see that you’re only making this hard on yourself?”

Maybe his host answers, maybe he doesn’t. Sukuna does not care. The defiant look in his eyes tells him all he needs to know. He slowly pushes his claws in, tears through skin and flesh. Dull human fingernails scramble at his hand but he barely notices. He’s sure the boy is screaming now. He pushes deeper.

He hears “Stop!” over and over again. Like a prayer. Wrong fucking god, he thinks irritated and with a twist pushes upwards into the body. His fingertips tickle the human’s lowest ribs now.

“Beg me!,” he demands but even through it all the little fool only shakes his head.

Obey me, damn you!

Deeper he goes. It’s warm. Organs and muscles move all around his lower arm. Blood hugs his skin like an old friend. Ever so carefully he caresses the heart beating away in this palm.

“Beg!” Obey!

“No!”

Rage bubbles and boils at an intensity Sukuna cannot remember ever having experienced before. This infuriating little-

With a loud squelch the heart exits the body and he watches defiant eyes become vacant. There is no satisfaction. If anything he is even more furious than before.

Any idiot can force others to fall to their knees! But Sukuna has always taken great pride in not only crushing bodies but spirits as well. Never before has one resisted him for this long!

He wants the fucking brat to get on his knees of his own volition, acknowledge his place beneath him and do as he’s fucking told!

Sukuna will not be able to calm his mind for days to come.

xXx

The cursed energy of the King of Curses can be felt by all in the jujutsu sorcerer school. The body buzzes with it and no one dares even come close. Sukuna takes immense satisfaction in that fact.

Until the damned Six Eyes comes along and approaches him without even flinching. He goes to pet the vessel’s head and Sukuna snarls. “My my~,” he says and chuckles.

The vessel spends days at the school, alone, barred from going on missions. Sukuna spends the days stewing in his own thoughts, torn between irritation and curiosity. What is this feeling, damn it!

“I feel so useless! Ugh,” his host whines and even through the fog of anger Sukuna can make out his host’s feelings. “Sukuna. Hey, talk to me.”

He does not. Though the boy tries repeatedly, growing increasingly nervous and desperate.

It’s pathetic and the King contemplates telling him so, but doesn’t.

Until the fifth day when the teen surprises him by doing something he has never done before. He pushes through the mental door connecting them. And Sukuna lets him.

He steps before him full of determination and (false) confidence only to immediately falter the moment their eyes meet. “Hi?”

Sukuna looks down at him, contemplative. Again, there’s nothing impressive about the brat. Yet now when he looks, really looks he sees not the unrefined cursed technique or the flailing and the blubbering mess. Instead a fortress stands before him, carved from ancient stone, unmoving. There is strength to be found within that tiny human soul, he realizes and doesn’t know if he hates it.

“Oh god, this is so awkward,” the boy mutters before he looks at him with serious eyes. “Look. I know this whole situation is kind of shit. I don’t like this any more than you do. But!”

What is this fucking brat getting at.

“We’re in this together!” He says it as if that were a good thing. “If anyone will understand, it’ll be us, yeah?”

“What, are you offering to be my shoulder to cry on?,” Sukuna mocks, insulted at the insinuation. “How sweet.”

“No! Well- kinda, actually. But not like- gah!,” he stumbles over his words, “I’m just offering to- you know, talk. Like, in between all the slicing and killing, yeah? I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener!”

The King of Curses cannot help but laugh then. To a certain extent he has to admit that he admires the sheer cheek. “Oh what a stupid vessel I have. You wish to talk? About our deepest thoughts and feelings, yes?”

“Sure sure,” the boy nods earnestly, either not noticing or ignoring the curse’s obvious sarcasm. “If that’s what you want.”

And that hits a nerve. Why. Why. He’s immediately irritated again.

“Must I impart yet more lessons on you? Are you simply too stupid to learn?” Sukuna steps forwards, descends to stand on equal ground. This means nothing, he thinks. His vessel stands before him, fingers shaking but eyes hard. He grips the brat’s throat harshly, lets his claws drag along warm skin. “Then I shall spell it out for you. You are little more than a bug for me to crush. Barely worth the effort to kill.” But that’s not right, is it? Irritating. Infuriating. He squeezes tighter. “You exist to serve my purpose. I exist to make use of you.” That feels more right, somehow. Why is he doubting himself now? What is this fucking feeling swelling within!

His host rasps and gulps but purposefully refrains from struggling. The handprint around his throat will be a lovely shade of red. Like a brand.

“You struggle fruitlessly and hate me, just like this.” He squeezes tighter still, feels the Adam’s apple bob softly. “And I use you to entertain myself before I drown this world in cruelty and darkness once more. It’s that simple.”

Yes, fight! Struggle! Entertain me! Before you break!

“I-“ The little thing sucks in air oh so desperately. “I don’t hate you.”

Like rain on a forest fire those words wash down upon him, soak him. He retracts his hand as if bitten and takes a step back. Why!

Oh why do his fingers twitch when the boy looks up at him like this. It’s maddening. He cannot help but reach out and smear the pad of his thumb across his cheek, touch the mark there. His mark.

What are you doing to me, you brat!

Without wanting to he says, “I want to destroy you.”

Those golden eyes bore into him and Sukuna dismisses him from his domain.

As he retires to his shrine he remembers the olden days, maybe even before his time as a curse. He remembers what this feeling is. A time before he was able to simply take as he pleased. A time where he still wanted.

xXx

“Has his highness finally calmed down again?,” the woman tries to sound bored but she cannot hide the genuine worry in the corner of her lips.

The boy laughs awkwardly and scratches at his neck. “Guess so.”

“Geez,” she blows her bangs from her face and rests her hammer over her shoulder, “that sure is troublesome.”

“It can’t be helped,” the Ten Shadows user drawls, eyes fixed to the ground, searching. “And would it kill you to show some empathy maybe?”

“Can’t,” she snarks back and purposefully hip checks him as she walks past him, “I was vaccinated against that.”

His vessel laughs and claps the Ten Shadows user on the shoulder. “It’s fine. She’s right after all. But it should be okay, he’s been… quiet for days now.”

“And doesn’t that unsettle you!?”

His vessel shrugs his shoulders, still grinning and turns away. “I think the curse went that way, by the way.”

They follow and don’t pick up the topic again.

“Hey. Sukuna?”

Silence.

“I know you’re there, ya know. I can feel you.”

Silence.

“Answer me.” Minutes pass. The whelp drags his own thumb along his cheek. “Whatever, be that way.”

The whelp doesn’t sleep that night and neither does Sukuna.

xXx

There seem to be different kinds of missions sorcerers are sent on. Mostly murders, with kidnappings, mutilations, people losing their mind sprinkled in. It’s obvious that their gradings of the danger level of individual missions are more often than not more guesswork than real knowledge. The ignorant fools are unable to feel the residue of cursed energy and judge accordingly.

“Missing high school students?,” the vessel questions.

“Ah, yes,” the nervous driver dabs at his face. “I’m sorry to trouble you with this, vessel-san. Usually such low grade missions would not fall to someone as... strong as you, but we are quite short on manpower, I’m afraid. And since Gojo-san’s mission is only an hour away, you were chosen.” In case anything happens with the King of Curses, is left as implied.

“Nah, it’s alright. And you don’t have to be worried, he has never interfered with a mission before.”

Sukuna grins and lets his cursed energy swell for a second, dark and suffocating in the small car.

The driver gives an undignified “Eeep!” and almost swerves into the other lane. His vessel calls Sukuna an asshole under his breath and rolls down the window. The curse toys with the thought of leaving that driver alive when he descends upon his rightful throne again. It’s refreshing to see someone with the appropriate reaction when faced with the King of Curses and his fear smells delicious.

“So,” his host is quick to change topics, “I’ll be the bait, yeah?”

“Tha-That’s the plan, yes. Pl-Please try and lure the curse out a-a-and kill it, p-please, vessel-sam-san!”

The teen sighs. “Will do.”

That evening Sukuna observes as his vessel stands under the street light of a dark street, trying and failing to look casual. It’s isolated enough to not have an audience but not so much that no one ever comes through. An advantageous hunting ground.

According to the driver there are gymnasiums nearby that are used by high school sports clubs. The primary targets seem to be these students walking home in the dark. One such primary target rounds the corner, ponytail bouncing and cheeks pink.

“Hey, you!” She approaches his host with fast steps. “Haven’t you heard it’s dangerous here? Or are you-?”

His host thinks ‘She’s cute!’ so loud it actually echoes through his domain. Sukuna snaps at him to shut up. With her hands on her hips she stands expectedly before the teen, who throws up both hands. “No! No. Sorry, I’m just here for, uuuh.”

She looks at his getup then her face softens. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t notice your track suit before! You must belong to the judo club in gym 3, right?”

“Um, sure.”

“It’s strange though. I think I’d remember hair like yours…”

The teen actually blushes. “I’ve been forced to sit out a lot because of, um, I’ve been sick.”

“Oh! Well, it’s good that you’re well now!” She gives a small smile and his host almost swoons. “You must be waiting for your friends, right? Still, you really shouldn’t be here alone. Aren’t you scared?”

“It’s okay. I’m pretty strong so I’ll be fine. But you’re out here alone too, you know?”

She grimaces and hesitates. “Mother... has been picking me up these past few weeks. Today was supposed to be father’s turn but well…”

His host nods in understanding. “Not the reliable type, huh.”

“Something like that.” Her polite smile tells him that she doesn’t want to talk about this.

“Want me to walk you to the main street? Strength in numbers and all that?” The teen offers and blushes more at her grateful grin.

“You’d do that?”

They walk for a few minutes and talk about meaningless things. Sukuna does his best to tune it out. He uses his lower set of eyes to take a look around. He cannot pick up any cursed energy nearby.

“Thank you so much, Itadori-kun! I don’t know what I would have done without you!,” the woman slightly nudges him with her shoulder and laughs when his host almost trips over himself.

Just how much of a fool can you make of yourself.

“I-It’s no problem, Takahashi-chan! Actually look, there’s a police cruiser stationed there, at the corner. I’m sure he can take you to the next bus stop.”

They wave and his vessel watches as she approaches the cruiser before he turns back around, whistling obnoxiously as he texts the nervous driver a status update

“Thanks.” His host says, apropos of nothing. “For speaking to me again, I mean.”

Sukuna growls, not needing any ‘thanks’. He speaks when he wishes to and that’s it.

They’re almost all the way back at the same street lamp when Sukuna picks up the unmistakable scent of fresh blood. The teen picks up on the change in his cursed energy. “What’s wrong?”

At that moment a scream penetrates the darkness and his host whips around and rushes along the way he just came from. He stands at the spot where their paths diverged, panting and frantically looking around. Then he runs towards the police car, parked at the mouth of a dark cul-de-sac, dodges the open driver’s door and doesn’t stop until a few meters in.

The smell of blood hangs heavy enough in the air that even his human nose can pick it up now. The source is obvious.

“Oh my god.”

Before him stands a bearded man, baton in hand and his police uniform drenched in red. At his feet lies a body. Sukuna can detect no heartbeat from it.

“Takahashi-chan!” The teen yells and wants to run to her.

The bloody baton almost hitting him in the face makes him stop and jump back. The man pins him with a dark look. “I haven’t planned on being seen tonight.” Then he swings again.

“A human!?” His host dodges easily. When one is used to doing combat with curses regular humans seem trivial in their fighting capabilities. At least that’s what one would assume but his host does little other than dodge.

Finish this pathetic fight already.

“I’m trying!” His host flails embarrassingly and Sukuna sighs. How tedious.

At the next swing he finally catches the hand wrapped around the weapon and twists. The man drops it with a short scream and stumbles back, wide eyed.

Instead of doing anything his host just stands there, eyes going from the still body of the woman back to the man. His fists are clenched and shaking. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

She is.

“That’s the police man. I sent her over here.” A mix between a growl and a sob escapes his mouth and faster than Sukuna has ever seen him move he has the man pressed up against the wall, hands wrapped around his throat. “How could you do that! Fuck. I told her to go to you.” Anger and guilt course through the body like poison, making his host’s thoughts a loud mishmash with no discernable words.

“I want to kill him,” he whispers and he sounds like it’s killing him. “I don’t kill humans,” he says even as he squeezes harder. The man struggles even as he pleads shamelessly. “Fuck!”

How tedious his dear host’s morals are.

“Sukuna.” The teen says, barely audible.

It’s close enough to pleading that he decides to reward good behaviour. The King of Curses reaches his hand through the barrier caging him in and feels it give. He settles into the body, enjoys the way the flesh moves with his will. His cursed energy pours out freely and so thick even the human man can feel it.

“You dare touch what isn’t yours,” he growls and punishes the man accordingly. The phone in his pocket keeps vibrating but he pays it no mind. His host cringes with every scream within and looks away but doesn’t stop him.

Afterwards Sukuna doesn’t resist as his vessel regains control. Instead he licks a red drop from his lips, savours the taste and fades back inside.

The nervous driver stumbles into the alley, looking frantic. He uses his phone for light and on speakerphone an angry voice is yelling at him. “-stop being a coward! You have to confirm-”

“V-vessel-sama?”, he calls out.

The whelp looks down at his bloody hands and turns around. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Hours later the teen enters his domain willingly for the second time. He hasn’t said a word since the alley and doesn’t speak now. His face shows nothing but deep misery and guilt. His eyes look up at the King of Curses and say a thousand words. Sukuna silently point to the spot at his feet and to his shock the kid climbs the stairs and settles down exactly where he pointed.

Sukuna purrs with satisfaction. He reaches out one clawed hand and scratches along the scalp of his vessel. The boy flinches at first – once bitten and all that – before he leans into the touch as a wounded sound leaves his lips.

"What is this, gratitude? Desperation?," Sukuna mocks even as he strokes through strands of hair.

His vessel doesn't look at him, only turns his face into the soft fabric of the kimono and moves closer, clutches tighter. "Does it matter?"

The king hums. "I suppose not."

That’s how the night passes.

Yuuji returns every night to sit at his feet and Sukuna rewards him with kindness, like a good pet. But with every night his want grows.

xXx

“We have to go in! He’s been wallowing for days-”

“Stop that-”

“Let me go-”

“He saw-”

“Yeah, I know but it’s part of the job-”

“You can’t just expect-”

Voices argue outside his vessel’s room, loud enough to be heard through the door. His host is lying in bed, curled up and hiding under his blanket. He has been left alone until now but it seems his fellow sorcerers are growing impatient with him.

Get up.

He twitches but doesn’t react otherwise.

I said get up.

His host groans and covers his head with a pillow. “Leave me be.”

No. Hiding and sulking are not only pathetic, they’re also useless.

The teen pops his head out from under the blanket and stares at the ceiling. “I just can’t get the image of her bloody- out of my head.”

Sukuna knows. These thoughts of his are being projected so loudly that he has been subjected to them as well. And it’s getting very annoying.

Humans die. It’s a fact of life. There will not be fewer death because you lie here and wallow.

His vessel remains quiet and turns away petulantly. But a spark of determination comes alive again.

Five minutes later he opens his door, effectively halting the argument going on outside.

“Itadori,” the Ten Shadows user says, surprised. “Did we wake you? Sorry-”

“You look like shit,” the woman interrupts, earning herself a tired smile. “But it’s good to see you! Come on, I’ve already picked the perfect mission for you…”

The mission is an easy one. Close by and only a few third grade curses. Standard stuff. They finish quickly and his host pretends to smile and celebrate when all the curses are dealt with. The sorcerers retire early and afternoon finds the teen back in his dorm room.

The moment the door falls shut behind him he slumps against it. He closes his eyes and enters Sukuna’s domain.

He climbs the stairs and sits by the King of Curses feet.

They stay like this for a while. Sukuna searches within himself and finds no desire to do violence. He does as he always has and follows his whims. No need to question it. It pleases him, so he strokes his fingers along the crown of the brat’s head, feels the undercut and pinches the short hair between his fingers. He thumbs along the prominent vertebrae on his neck and presses softly even as the brat starts to shake beneath him. He goes back to the longer hair and feels it glide stiffly through his hand. His vessel crumbles pathetically before him, hides his face in the King’s kimono. The fact that Sukuna allows it seems to only break him further. It’s quite delicious.

“Why?”

The King of Curses doesn’t answer, instead he takes deep, satisfied breaths, tasting the scent of misery on his tongue. He has killed the kid many times, but only now, through soft touches, does he get to enjoy this scent. How strange, he muses, yet oddly fitting.

The whelp looks at him with searching, desperate eyes but Sukuna does not look back. He keeps petting along his neck, leans back in his throne and lets his eyes wander through his domain. He wants so badly, desires so many things. But even more than that he wants the brat to want it. To offer it.

“Why did you help me?”

The teen makes to get up but Sukuna keeps him still with an authoritative hand on his head. He quite likes him by his feet after all.

“Why are you being… nice?”

Oh, but Sukuna is not being ‘nice’. It’s just that he has found that a feather is sometimes more effective than a blade.

“Answer me, come on! It’s- It’s confusing, okay?” Even now his vessel unconsciously nuzzles into his hand. So desperate for kindness.

Oh his sweet, foolish vessel. Always so open. So honest. He rewards him by finally meeting his eye and the whelp whines.

The King is in no mood to talk though. Desire licks at his being.

“I don’t hate you either,” he says.

At this his host clamours to stand up again and this time he allows it. Insolently the boy fists both hands into his kimono, which awakens a twinge of annoyance in him but he pushes it aside. Their faces are close enough for him to feel his breath on his cheek. The kid’s breathing is uneven, nervous, probably even scared.

“Please,” he finally begs. “Please. I don’t understand, and it’s making me weird.”

Oh how sweet those words sound in his ears. And mere weeks ago that would have been enough to satisfy him. Now Sukuna wants more. And he wants his vessel to give it to him. Not through force but through his own volition. An act of ultimate submission.

So he tilts his head a little, makes the tip of his nose brush the other’s cheek and sighs softly. His host’s breathing hitches and picks up. The air between them becomes charged.

“Please.” His host begs again.

Give me what I desire, he thinks hotly and revels in the anticipation. To tempt the kid further he reaches out his hand and gently rests it against his chest, feels the rapid heartbeat. Twice now he has held it in his hand, has taken it by force and discarded it. The thought of his host giving it to him a third time makes him shift in his seat, impatient. He breathes quicker, makes sure the boy can hear it.

“Fuck!”, his host breathes hotly against his face. He releases the kimono and lays one palm against the King’s collarbone. Sukuna growls a warning so the brat doesn’t go higher, but his cheeks flush a darker shade. “What are we doing!” Golden eyes flutter and youthful cheeks flush a lovely pink. Sukuna brushes his lips against his chin and rips a moan from his lips, loud and wanton. “Kiss me!”

At this Sukuna grins and creates some distance between them, secure in the knowledge he’s got him hooked. One knee comes up to rest on the throne, between Sukuna’s thighs. He glides one hand down the boy’s leg, stopping at the back of his knee and pulls it encouragingly forward. Closer. “No,” he says breezily even as he continues to tempt him, to follow. He does without resistance, no temptation needed.

“Why nooot,” the boy whines. Their lips are close, so close. All it takes is one more push.

“Yuuji,” he breathes hotly and almost instantly his host groans and closes the distance.

It’s quite perfect. Yuuji’s lips are soft and insistent and his hands have found their way into his kimono and grip his shoulders but obediently go no higher.

Sukuna rearranges their legs so the brat can bracket his thighs with his knees on either side, sitting in his lap. An honour that has not been bestowed on any other. His hand is back to stroking through the hair of his undercut and with his thumb stroking circles behind his ear the kid pants hotly, opening his lips and deepening the kiss.

Yuuji tries to press even closer, squirms and moans and slyly touches their tongues together. When he leans back he’s breathing like he just ran a marathon. “So good,” he whispers almost to himself, eyes lidded, before he slots their mouths together again.

Yes, brat, give in. Give me everything.

Yuuji’s hips make little aborted movements and his hands begin to roam restlessly. Over his shoulder blades, along his arms and his sides.

The King breaks the kiss, licks his lips and just takes in the view for a second. The kid already looks debauched, red-faced and willing. Golden eyes show his strong will. It makes Sukuna want to break him even more.

He pinches his vessel’s chin between two fingers and tilts it upwards to kiss along his throat. The hands at his sides tense up and the bitter scent of fear grows thicker. He places his thumb on the pulse point and feels it flutter uneasily. Sukuna opens his mouth and lightly scratches his fangs along the exposed Adam’s apple, just because he can. Because the brat fucking lets him. He has to fight the urge to bite down, draw blood and gorge himself with it. His gums itch with it.

Yuuji sobs, head thrown back, his hips moving faster and at some point he must have placed his hands on Sukuna’s head because he’s desperately clawing at his hair. Impertinent brat.

The King of Curses mouths below his ears, sucks harshly as the brat continues to fall apart before him. His breathing gets higher as he grows more and more desperate. “Oh! Ooh god.”

“There is only one God here.” The hoodie is in the way so he pulls it off and throws it to the side. The shirt underneath tear as he pulls it to the side, greedily accessing more skin. Sukuna punishes the false prayer with a bite to his shoulder, digs his fangs into soft skin.

“Ow!” Yuuji instantly flinches back and gives him an accusatory glance. The pain must have cleared his mind because his eyes are hard and no longer foggy. “You are no god.”

What insolence. “I will not stand for your blasphemy, brat.” Worship only me. “You may speak my name and my name alone.” He grips narrow hips with both hands and pushes up the shirt, stroking along hip bones.

Yuuji shudders. “So arrog-” Because Sukuna doesn’t feel like punishing him further, he shuts him up with another kiss before he can finish.

As he sucks lightly on the brat’s tongue his fingers tease along the hem of his pants, grazing his claws ever so lightly at the jutting hip bones. That’s all it takes for Yuuji to curse into his mouth and resume moving his hips. He grinds down into the King’s thighs and pants urgently.

“Touch me,” he begs and gives him a look that sets Sukuna ablaze.

Without his permission a groan escapes the King’s mouth. It takes no more than him willing it for a bed to appear underneath them and he wastes no time pressing the boy into the crimson sheets to kiss him some more. Dirty and deep.

Yuuji bows his back upwards, looking frantic in his lust. His hands and feet scramble before clutching at the King. He hooks his ankles behind Sukuna’s back and brings his hands back to his hair, where he imitates Sukuna by massaging the undercut. It’s lovely.

The King of Curses pulls back with reluctance to finish undressing his vessel and shakes off his own clothes as well. Underneath him Yuuji looks like he might start hyperventilating. “Touch me, please!”

Sukuna slots their hips together, moans at the feeling and cages his vessel in with his arms. “No.”

His grinds his hips forward and mouths at his bite mark to muffle just how worked up he’s getting. It’s so, so good. Yuuji shows no such restraint and howls as their lengths slide against each other. He tries to match the movements of his own hips but ends up meeting air more often than not. Yet every time he does manage do it right the bolt of pleasure running along Sukuna’s spine has him panting. Fuck.

He pulls back and spreads Yuuji’s legs. With one hand he brushes past the teen’s cock, feather light but enough to have him moaning, before moving lower. Yuuji’s eyes snap open and look a mix of pleading and afraid. He has never done this before.

Because Sukuna can be a merciful King he merely circles the ring, feels it twitch, caresses the hair. All the while he holds the brat’s gaze, kisses him again. Once, twice. Then on the cheek.

“Please,” Yuuji whispers and grimaces when a finger enters. The glide is eased by lube, so there shouldn’t be any pain. The King pulls out and slowly drags it back in, eases the brat into it. His vessel pulls him down by his hair and kisses his growl away, distracts from his impudence by running his tongue along the King’s lips and twitching with his hips. “More.”

Two fingers go next, deeper and harder. The brat grips his biceps, squeezing and scratching. Sukuna misses the lust-fogged look on him and it only takes a few drags and presses before he receives the desired reaction. A delicious shudder runs through Yuuji’s body and he whines loudly. His brows are furrowed and his hips begin to move again, almost as if torn between running away and wanting more.

“Be still,” Sukuna murmurs and uses his other hand to pull his hips back. He doesn’t know if the brat even hears him in between all the writhing and moaning. He paints a very memorable picture like this. Sukuna wraps clawed fingers around the brat’s cock and strokes twice, just to give him a taste.

“Oh goooooo- go-gosh!” The teen sounds in pain. “Yes yes yes!”

The King drags his fingers back out and takes his hand off his cock as well, leaves it hard and drooling. He ignores the brat wailing pitifully in response and drags his hand along his own cock, coating it with lube.

The scent of fear is long since gone and he wonders distantly why he cannot find it within himself to mourn that fact. Instead he greedily huffs in the smell of sweat and sex and Yuuji and pulls harder on his cock. Golden eyes stare up at him with something he can’t name. Yuuji sits up halfway to hold on to his shoulder and pull him down, into a quick, sweet kiss. It should disgust him, fuck. This is not how the King of Curses fucks.

“Beg me,” he says to the brat.

Golden eyes defy him still. “No.”

Sukuna clicks his tongue and pushes in finally and even with his mouth licking at Yuuji’s shoulder he cannot hide the noise that’s punched out of him. Yuuji throws his head back and whimpers. His hole tightens deliciously and Sukuna can’t help but start to move. Slowly, then quickly building a rhythm. The brat takes it and screams in pleasure in between clashing their mouths together. He clings to the King’s shoulder and back whilst his ankles stay hooked behind Sukuna’s back.

“Sukuna,” he moans, eyes closed and unknowing what that does to the King of Curses.

“Fuck!” He goes faster, harder and pretends not to notice when Yuuji tangles his fingers with his own next to his head. The push and pull make the hair on his arms stand on edge, it’s so good.

Yuuji, blush reaching all the way to his shoulders, curses and whines and groans beautifully. The muscles in his legs twitch and his legs fall open to allow for a deeper angle. “So gooood!” His other hand is still in Sukuna’s hair, never allowing him to move too far away.

The King curls back his spine to reach for the teen’s cock and begins pulling on it, just the way his vessel likes it. He’s instantly rewarded with more noises and calls for his name.

When Yuuji comes he does it with his whole body rippling with pleasure and his mouth open in a silent scream. Gorgeous.

Sukuna pulls out, teases his head at the rim and pushes back in. No more is needed for his own orgasm to wash over him. He’s never been this vocal before but does not care to hold back the groan echoing through the space. Only afterwards when he carefully extracts his claws from Yuuji’s hip does he realize he was clutching down.

The teen hisses but tightens his hold on Sukuna’s hair when the King attempts to move back. Instead he pulls him down towards himself, brings their heads close only to hesitate.

“Kiss me,” he whispers.