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Craving

Summary:

READ THE TAGS.

Did this get inspired by a single line in Death Parade? Yes.

Is this bizarre as hell? Also yes.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

He craved life more than the human meat placed in front of him. If he eats, he'll survive. His instincts took over and he let himself slip into a simple mindset as though he were a doll, made to be controlled.


The craving became stronger each passing second. The need to feel flesh inside of himself possessed him like a desperate demon escaping the deadly clutches of Lucifer himself.


Getting the meat inside of his mouth was nothing. Chewing on it, as though it was a life source was nothing. Feeling blood spill out of the organ was nothing.


The taste of liquid did not satisfy his needs by no means, it wasn't enough, it would never be enough. He felt the iron filled, boiling hot, yet freezing cold liquid slip through the short tube his neck was. Each millimeter the hemoglobin filled liquid passed was a journey of it's own. The sensation was raw. He wanted the liquid to suffocate him if it meant it would flow through him again!


He chewed and chewed, yet refused to swallow. His tongue worked like a charm, pushing stripes of flesh between his teeth. He hasn't been fed for days? Months? He doesn't know. If he doesn't save some of it, will he be able to survive another month, year... Maybe even a decade of malnourishment?


The flesh in between his teeth would rot the same way a corpse would, if he didn't pick it out. Does he want to pick it out? That's the question. Does he wish for the meat to stay in his mouth for as long as it can, rot in between his teeth?


The flesh that's missing inside of him begs him to swallow, yet he purposefully managed to get it in between his teeth. 


He wants to keep the flavor—, he needs to keep the flavor, otherwise he might die! He might get locked in here for weeks, he might have to eat rotten flesh! Ah, the image of it is gorgeous


The smelling, rotting, decomposing meat in between his teeth will be desperately picked out by his remaining fingers as he begs to be fed more, yet knows no one will hear him. One entity will hear, but won't hear him. 


The chains restraining his movement were icy, strong, just like the hands of the pink-haired demon would be. How will he pick out the meat if he cannot move? He doesn't hold an answer, but he knows—


The taste filling his mouth was divine. Gojo's eyes were filled with tears, his tongue experienced an orgasm and his taste buds will die from the heavenly experience this is. No human or animal heart, gut, kidney,... Nothing could ever compare. 


He chewed, chewed and chewed, sacrificing his teeth as with each sinful bite and swallow one fell out. Gojo didn't have many teeth left, but how could he stop?


The flesh in between the remaining teeth held a promise, it held a future. A future Gojo wanted, but could never get. He couldn't fight his body. The electric feeling he received from eating this cursed heart— not even his infinity could compare.


Three teeth left. Three chews left. Is he willing to sacrifice his remaining teeth to the Malevolent Shrine? Is he willing to let the demon win over him and damn him for eternity?


Gojo bites down.


Two teeth left. Two chews left. Is it worth it? He is untouchable, he is the strongest. Yet this flesh inside of his mouth is begging him to give up everything. 


No! It's not begging at all. It's filling his mind with mist. His mind resembles a forest on a night where the moon refuses to come out, it's cold.. 


In that moment, Gojo realizes it's him begging. Begging to get more, feel more, have more! The curse, his guard in this prison of a domain, can regrow it's organs. Gojo will make him— Gojo needs more— The taste— The taste was so good


Gojo's head falls down, he has no teeth left.


His mouth is full of open, disgusting, bleeding wounds. Pulling one tooth is a torturing experience on it's own, yet loosing every each of them was a hazard to his health. As if an open ribcage or punctured lungs weren't. 


As a drop of blood dances on his tongue and he tastes his own blood, his eyes widen in shock, fear, perhaps even disgust. It's nothing like the King of Curses's blood. Gojo's own blood is pathetic, it's weak and has no taste. No good taste, bad taste or any taste, at all.


The blood Sukuna possesses is a Biblical experience that sends a sinful mortal to heaven, no matter how many sins are on their hands. The taste of iron that he felt for 10 seconds brought him to the brink of life and back in a second.


He needs Sukuna back. 


He needs Sukuna's blood back.


He needs his heart back.


And so Sukuna gives.


It isn't clear how many days have passed. The night nor day are not distinct. Nor do they matter. Only the throne of bones and the curse sitting on top of it are. And what a sight it is.


His broken ribcage is sending pleasure all over his body, with each heaving breath, he moans. He moans like a nun, that sinned right in front of a cross, in front of her God.


His deteriorated nerves, a masterpiece from Sukuna's art class they held a few... Months? Days? Ago, show how fucked up of a mindset the shaman possesses. Sukuna only laughs at the pitiful doll, his hand on his chin, observing. 


Gojo Satoru's image is of a corpse, yet he heaves and moans like a whore on a late night walk, luring scums and perverted old men to have their way with him. His ribcage possesses four ribs on the left and two on the right. Both on the right side are broken, the bones crushing his shaking lung and begging to be taken out.


The man is a pool of blood and gore, he can no longer be called a human for he lacks the figure of one. The man doesn't open his eyes, not even to feast on the organs offered to him every passing day. 


And how disrespectful it is, Sukuna thinks. 


Shall Sukuna rip out his heart today? Or should he rip off his lips and offer a kiss with his gums only to the chained up, fucked up sybarite? 


Sukuna realizes he has no right to complain about having to pass offers to Gojo Satoru, no right at all. Sukuna is the cause of Satoru becoming a sybarite in the first place. It's his fault, and he loves it.


Sukuna's fingers reach deep inside of his —Yuuji's— body full of decomposing organs. The sorcerer was good, very good in fact and a little treat wouldn't hurt him. Ripping out the beating, regrown heart and throwing it in front of the desperate man, Sukuna's lips turn into a malicious smirk. 


Gojo can't reach it. The pulsing, wonderful piece of gore in front him is a terrifying work of art, made by a sadistic artist full of hatred. And he loves it. 


He loves it so much the thought of being unable to chew on it, savor it and swallow it— it kills him on the inside and he heaves, his eyes are begging and Sukuna knows what he wants. Sukuna knows and he already gave it to him. What a merciful curse he is.


As Sukuna steps down from his shrine, the bones crack under his feet as though they weren't built to support bodies, as though they weren't extremely hard to cut through... 


Sukuna crouches in front of the kicked pup the sorcerer regressed to be. Taking out most of his muscles and tasting every single one of them wasn't Sukuna's proudest choice, but he's not ashamed of it. 


It's helping him keep the man wanton and obedient like a submissive, and what's a bigger accomplishment than being able to say "Gojo Satoru submitted hos soul to me"? Sukuna dare not admit it, but he is, indeed, proud of having the strongest man alive right now, as his pet.


,,Satoru, what would you like me to do?" 


Sukuna knows the sorcerer wants to be filled with flesh again. Wrapped in his own flesh, instead of being a pile of gore— that's why he's so eager to swallow each chunk of flesh that comes his way. 


But dare he admit it?


,,Eat me, Sukuna." He doesn't.


And so Sukuna does everything to please. Dragging his long fingernails against the skin of Gojo's face, he leaves the only thing that even indicates this is Gojo Satoru alone. He wished to take those eyes when he brought him in, but he doesn't want to anymore. They're too angelic for Sukuna to curse.


This Gojo Satoru here is broken-minded, obedient, starving and lustful doll. A personal creation of Sukuna, the art piece he's most proud of. The only piece, never to be sold. His wonderful figurine to be displayed only in front of him, for his own satisfaction.


When he destroys the world, it's only going to be him, Yuuji, Megumi and Satoru here. If Yuuji behaves, Sukuna will spare Kento Nanami too. They'll stay in his shrine, protected and as alive as will be possible, given the circumstances. Right now, it's just he and Gojo, enjoying their time.


But Yuuji won't stay silent for far too long, the brat never shuts up, so once he wakes up, comes back and realizes his sensei is... Well. Not even a human being, it's going to get nasty.


So what can Sukuna do, except enjoy his last moments alone with Satoru? 


Shuffling out of his kimono, Sukuna grips both of Gojo's.. Can he even call them legs anymore? And places them onto his broad shoulders. The man below him whines, even though Sukuna's simply brushing his cock against the man's ass. Sukuna's smirk is by no means an unknown image inside of Gojo's mind.


This, after all, isn't the first time Gojo's letting himself be eaten.


Sukuna spits onto the sorcerer's opening, who moans in delight, ready to feel his nerve system go crazy. As the cock enters him, he yelps and Sukuna, being the merciful curse, waits patiently. 


Gojo would say the cock is hot inside of him, but he's lost the ability to tell the temperature hours after being imprisoned here. 


,,S—Sukuna, eat me. ." Gojo begs again, desperately wishing for his high, for Sukuna to have him in all ways imaginable, all ways possible and even in the impossible ones. He wants to be full and he knows Sukuna can give it to him.


,,I will, sorcerer, just let me take care of you, yeah?" Satoru's hands are above his head, the metal cluttering constantly when Sukuna starts moving his hips excruciatingly slowly, gathering every tiny sound the sorcerer makes and committing it to memory. 


The pace doesn't stay slow for long. Sukuna isn't a man of dragging sex out for hours, but his stamina does make it difficult for him to get quickies here and there.


,,Ah— Sukuna—" Gojo trembles, his legs barely able to stay on the curse's shoulders. Gojo is already coming, prematurely but Sukuna only hums in pride and continues slamming into him as though they haven't done this before.


Sukuna can't honestly get enough of Gojo. The hotness of the body that is hanging onto life, like a depressed human hangs on a rope, envelopes Sukuna's cock and he slams into the sorcerer with as much force as he can.


The inside of Gojo Satoru is unexplainable. If Sukuna tried, he'd fail to capture it's whole potential, but he's an artist and he wants to capture this Gojo Satoru. This Gojo Satoru, that is for his eyes only, his marks embedded in the man's body, showing everyone who'll watch that yes, this Gojo Satoru is his. 

 

His and his only. Unable to be touched by anyone else.


Gojo's insides are squeezing him, begging him to be filled full of his seed. The sorcerer is eliciting sounds unexplainable to mortals — an angel's wailing, only to be heard by those deserving. Gojo's broken words make Sukuna wish he could replay them in his head forever.


,,I'll fill you, yeah?" Sukuna snaps his hips in an angle that gets Satoru to throw his head back, the sound escaping from his throat mimicking a siren, luring men to die for her — Sukuna daren't admit it, but for this sorcerer? For his sorcerer? He would die.


,,Fill me." Satoru snaps his hips up, giving Sukuna better access to his begging hole. Sukuna curses under his breath that is becoming rather erratic as he slams his cock into the barely human being under him.


Seeing the guts spread out next to the body, seeing the broken nerve system, seeing those eyes, it's all too much. Far too much for Sukuna's clouded head and he comes. He comes inside of the poor looking, bruised and abused body below him. 


The sorcerer hasn't reached his high along with Sukuna and Sukuna wants him to. He wants Satoru to look at him, tears in eyes, mouth drooling as he begs to be fucked like a bitch in heat again. He wants to see those flushed cheeks get even darker as he begs Sukuna to come, his eyes closing from the pleasure and so Sukuna doesn't wait again. 


As he slams into the body again, the sorcerer's head is in clouds judging by the blabbering and incomprehensible words falling out of his mouth. Sukuna's groans are guttural, his cock fully coated with his own seed as he pushes it further into the sorcerer's open stomach. 


,,I'm breeding you like a fucking bitch, aren't I?" Satoru moans even louder and Sukuna grabs his hips and picks him up lightly, making Satoru rely on his weakened, trembling, chained hands. If Satoru had his stomach, his muscles would be clenching so hard right now, pulsing with the need to stay up. 


Satoru can't hold himself much longer, his arms give out and as soon as his head slams against the watery surface below them both, Sukuna's speed increases.


,,Fuck, if I could I'd breed you, Satoru." Sukuna admits, pushing himself as deep as he can and stays buried inside of the sorcerer, giving tiny thrusts, slowing for a while. Satoru isn't complaining, in fact he seems to like this even more. What a nasty fuck he is.


,,You'd be bearing my brats inside of yourself, doesn't that sound good?" Sukuna wonders as he picks up his pace again, suddenly going animalistic. He wants to breed the man below him even if it kills him. He knows he can't, but he wants to and this is his fucking shrine, he should do as he pleases.


,,I— I want to bear your, gah— children, Sukuna." Satoru's fucked out brain isn't probably thinking here, and Sukuna loves it. This submission, admittance. The gentleness in the voice, yet the lust in those words. 


,,Yeah?" Sukuna slams into him with as much force as he can gather in himself and he hears a bone break, probably something in Satoru's back, but he doesn't care. ,,I'll fill you up real good and get you pregnant, huh?" 


,,Fuck, yes! Hah— Breed me! Fuck— ah— " Satoru's erotic moans fill Sukuna's senses and he doesn't think anymore. The thought of this pale haired man, bearing his children, being swollen with the brats inside of him, stretch marks on his stomach as his body makes space for them is sending Sukuna to heaven, hell, the precipice and back. 


The brats would undoubtedly grow big and strong, just like he and the sorcerer and Sukuna groans, slamming into Satoru's ass faster with each second. 


If he doesn't get this man pregnant, Sukuna thinks, he'll fucking end the world way sooner than planned.


The scent of sex and blood, the scent of flesh and sweat becomes too fucking much to bear and Sukuna cums yet again, spilling all of himself into Satoru and Satoru follows suit, his pitiful cock spilling right into his own ribcage.


,,You did well, sorcerer." Sukuna praises and Gojo whines, when Sukuna pulls out and parts his cheeks to watch his work of art. There's sticky, hot cum leaking out of Satoru's hole, his seed is spilling out of him and Sukuna watches with interest as Satoru tries to keep it in himself, clenching the muscle as much as he can.


With how much Sukuna stretched him out, there isn't a high possibility of Satoru keeping the cum in, but the effort is appreciated.


,,You want to keep my brats in you, Satoru?" And the fucked out sorcerer nods eagerly, still not coming down from his own high.

 


 


Now that he's done, Gojo is blacked out probably from the pain his body fails to send signals for, Sukuna begins to work his magic and starts healing the sorcerer. He doesn't really want Satoru to die on him, that man is a powerful asset. 


But he also finds himself rather affectionate when this particular man is in question. In fact, he might have a weakness for those eyes of his.


Satoru gains his muscle and flesh back, the things he wanted so desperately to have when he chewed on Sukuna's heart. Sukuna may have made him believe that if he eats, he'll gain his muscles back. It was complete bullshit, but the desperate look on the sorcerer's face was entertaining enough for a few evenings.


In fact, Satoru hasn't been here for long, but time is not something that exists in the shrine and if Sukuna wanted, he could keep Satoru here forever shall he choose to.


The last thing Sukuna does, is slip his ring back on before he fixes Satoru's nerve system. Had he done it sooner, the pain would send the sorcerer into a shock. Not that he doesn't want the man to writhe in pain and scream out from it, but he's had his fill and not even he knows when Fushiguro will come back. 


It's not that Sukuna's husband in the planned genocide minds him having sex with others, but Fushiguro will bring Yuuji back too and if he sees Satoru like this, it's going to be a bitch begging him to come to live again.


God knows they had a field day with it last time, when Yuuji refused to be brought back until Sukuna offered to let Satoru live along with some other brats and that shaman — Nanami. Megumi was sure his best friend was dead too, dammit.


After Satoru wakes, he's greeted by none other than Sukuna on his throne, Fushiguro in his lap and Yuuji next to himself, aiding to Satoru's remaining bruises that Sukuna didn't heal. 


When Sukuna told Fushiguro they could have a harem, he didn't exactly mean another pair of lovers, but Yuuji was alive, meaning Fushiguro was happy and if Yuuji had to stay alive, so had Satoru. God knows that daddy issued brat wouldn't last a day against the curses had it not been for Sukuna and Satoru. 


,,Good morning, sensei." Yuuji says with a grin and Satoru smiles back, still not completely coherent. Even if he isn't coherent he can feel a tiny change in his body and his hands shift onto his abdomen. There's a bump in there that no other man has.


,,You— You gave me a uterus?" Gojo snaps at Sukuna who sighs, holding a now writhing Fushiguro calmly.


,,You begged to be filled with my brats, remember?" Sukuna smirks and once Fushiguro realizes it was somewhat consensual, he stops struggling against his husband. 


,,I had to kill a woman for it, however." Sukuna admits and Fushiguro stills in his lap, giving a side eye to Yuuji, who glances at Satoru. 


,,Who was the woman?" Yuuji dares ask, knowing already but unable to say it. He hates the fact that he and Sukuna are connected most of the time. Sukuna doesn't even bother blocking it anymore, dammit. 


,,Kasumi Miwa ring a bell?" Sukuna smirks as Fushiguro's eyes widen and Gojo's eyes probably do too, they won't know. His blindfold is back on.


,,She was going to die anyway. But don't worry Satoru, you'll be a living proof of her existence." 


Gojo doesn't know if he gags because of the thought of having to get the child(ren)? out of himself, or because of the fact that there is a woman that died for him, her uterus now placed inside of him. A dead woman's organ is inside of him. 


What a bizarre fucking thing to happen.


Sukuna quickly muffles his and Fushiguro's conversation, and so Yuuji continues to wrap bandages around Gojo's weak limbs and bruised neck.


Fushiguro jumps off from his husband's lap and glares at him. The bubble is broken and they all can clearly hear what Fushiguro's saying.


,,Fuck you, for not letting me bear those brats." 


Yeah, Sukuna admires his husband's determination. And his husband in general. In fact, he might even say he grew to love him. But risking his life for some brats? Nah, Fushiguro can live without that. 


And as desperately as he wants to say that all, he doesn't. Instead, as he glances at the rather pleading eyes he sighs and rubs his temple.


,,I'll give you the chance next time." 

Notes:

I hope it was somewhat enjoyable.

¹When Gojo says he wants to be eaten, he's indirectly asks Sukuna to rape him. Eating is some sort of a Japanese metaphor for rape/non-con.

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