#dovedove?

You were more or less exiled from the entire society of arrogant jujitsu sorcerers, forced to go to the nearby college and turn into a glorified secretary for the high school. He tried to rebuild your relationship, but it was never the same.

It took you years to understand why he would hurt his only sibling that deeply. It wasn’t until he was dead that you understood how much he was willing to sacrifice for your well-being.

You were the number one target of all Satoru Gojo’s enemies, and revenge came swiftly.

The clinking of the chains could almost sound like that piece of jewelry, lost in the rubble of your apartment if you imagined hard enough.

And all you had was time to try and imagine that you were anywhere but here, locked to the throne at the feet of the King of Curses. 

You could hardly bear to watch as people were brought in, some more chained than you, dangerous perhaps. You wondered if their collars had been crafted to deaden cursed energy as yours had. Not that Sukuna thought you were any threat, but he disliked ‘swatting at flies’.

When you had first been captured, after everything had gone to hell, you had hoped that there was someone, anyone, who had the power and strength to end Sukuna, but nothing came close to his power.

Even Gojo Satoru had fallen, taking hope with him.

Now Men, Women, and children, all met the same fate if they did not kneel and give reverence to the great Ryomen Sukuna. 

And even that was not always enough.

Blood spattered the marble floors of the shrine, and you swear that over time it’s taken on a pink hue. The room fills with lesser curses who clean the blood with their grotesque mouths, and Urame carts away choice bits for Sukuna's later pleasure.

You screwed your mouth shut as people cried to you, mistaking your position as something other than a slave for Sukuna to torture.

As the last of the Gojo line, you weren't above holding you responsible for a century-long grudge. Any pleading from your lips only made his rampage worse.

Any attempt to flee into your head was met with a violent tug on your throat.

There was no turning away, not when your master held the deceptively delicate chain around your neck, yanking whenever he thought you weren’t paying enough attention.

He loved to see you cry in pain, and you hadn’t the ability to stop, especially for those young ones who were cut down.

And it was almost certain that after witnessing another moment of terrible brutality you’d somehow forget your head, turning upon him and glaring like a feral animal, yanking the chain away so you could hurt him, just once.

But you would only be met with the face of the wolf.

His teeth clenched in a wide smile, he’d return a smirk so vile, that he specifically reserved for the moments you spit venom. He loved to see you struggle, but trying to bite back always ended poorly. 

Ryomen Sukuna was not a kind master.

And though he certainly thought of you like a pet, he wasn’t below forcing your head under his foot, smushing your entire face in the remains of corpses. If you dared throw up, you still stayed and were unable to leave until you wiped it up with your ragged robes that had gone thin from wear.

But that was better than his other punishment, on days where you felt a terrifying hardness as Sukuna held your face between his legs, using a single finger to paint fresh blood, using you as a macabre canvas as he painted.

Those days he would have Urame fetch a mirror, and both would cackle as they examined his work. Often, it was lewd words and signs, but other times it was as if he was painting his marks on you.

Bastard.

After a long, cruel day, you dared to critique his work, sneering at his lack of finesse.

With a snap of his fingers, he had Urame strap you down, leering over you as he assembled his petty revenge.

A curse user was summoned, bringing along the tools of his trade; a short bamboo pole with a needle attached and a jar of thick onyx ink.

If that hadn’t been enough, Sukuna cut his wrist, pouring black blood to mix into the lot.

He instructed the curse user to tattoo you exactly like him, with no imperfections else his head be separated from his body.

You endured unbearable pain for nearly a week, stripped down under the gaze of Sukuna, a reminder to watch your tongue. And after, when the tattoos were done, he commemorated it with a new kimono and a portrait of you at his feet. A wretched ugly thing, as you now were.

He loved it, and let the painter live.

The recovery took twice as long, as your master hardly let you rest, or even leave his side. And as the days passed, you felt less and less like a human. 

Forced to accompany him almost daily, you had an unfortunate insight into the casual cruelty of the Cursed King who knew nothing of kindness. 

You eat less, hardly sleep and the whole blood-shed thing was sort of muffled, probably thanks to the sheer amount witnessed. You figure terror is the only thing keeping you alive.

Day in and out you followed the creature, just waiting for the day he tires of you. 

And that day doesn’t come.

It’s still a surprise that you’re alive, you muse too often, laying on a cushion at the entrance to his rooms. Though he did take off your left arm the day he took you, he claimed it was an accident, and fixed it. 

You’d rather that happen again than to be forced to enter his rooms.

At least your position at his shrine was more or less a pet, or when he was gone, Urame’s.

And despite your treatment, the concubines were in a far worse condition. The way Sukuna treated other women was abhorrent. Some days, bored, would reap the land looking for fresh, beautiful blood, and when he found some, he’d bring them back. Some girls even offered up to him, in hopes he’d show mercy.

Wide-eyed women, much like yourself, you realized as you watched them enter one day. But you felt these were much prettier, much more docile than you. Some even fawned over him, though their manners probably rang as fake as your docility. Were they trying to secure a safe place by him, or just trying not to be killed was hard to say. You didn’t blame either. Humanity was no longer civil.

It didn’t matter. They all get dragged into that black hole of his room, sometimes four at a time, and their screaming often lasts for hours. 

Women who entered his rooms never exited alive, thankfully Urame thought your time could be much better spent working than sitting at the door, listening in.

Yeah, it was much preferable to be a tortured slave to Sukuna than to be seen as a woman.

“You’ve been quiet this last week, pet.” Sharp nails dig into your head, turning you to look at the man sitting on the throne above. “Perhaps you no longer find my pastimes so alarming.”

Meaning, his pastime of killing and eating humans.

Something shared by the court of curses below him, warily watching for what next he commands and desires. 

Unfortunately, that was you. You despised the looks raked over your chained form, the greedy mouths that drooled, awaiting the day the master turned tired of the remaining Gojo, and hoped to have their turn for revenge.

If they couldn’t have Satoru Gojo, you’d do.

“Apologies… master.” You said, tension forming at the back of your neck as he tugged harshly on your head. Even so, your words remained smooth. “I find it hard to do anything but serve with your foot on my back.”

His dark chuckle was an answer in itself. 

“Such a mouth, even when disguising your words so pretty.” Sukuna let go of your hair, amused enough today to let your words pass. You drop your head, but only enough to quell the pain. “It was such a shame for your kin to have died so easily, but it seems my desire for entertainment continues to be fulfilled by you.”

You hated him so much.

You clench your mouth, but the insult escapes before you can stop it.

“Bastard.”

You go stiff, but Sukuna merely pauses.

“Oh?” A single finger of his lifts your chin up again, before moving to your lips. And without warning, he pushes it inside your mouth. 

“I thought I may torture you for a while, then be rid of you, but…” 

You will yourself not to bite down on his finger, as he probably wanted an excuse to bite you back. But you don’t, and after a moment he pops it out with a small sound before another hand grabs your shoulder.

“Leave.” 

For a moment you think he’s speaking to you, but the tension in your throat holds, and you see him looking at everyone else.

“My lord?” You question but his eyes flash down in warning.

All the curses and curse-users who attend minor tasks in the shrine are gone in moments. Urame is the last, shitting the door and ensuring the desired privacy, which means, something horrible is about to happen.

The moment the ornate handle clicks, Sukuna picks you up with a third hand. You can’t help but exhale as he sets you down on his knee. The finger that had been in your mouth returns, and you gag as this time it delves in, choking you.

“Not a very good reflex, but it can be worked on,” Sukuna says with an almost bored drawl, tugging his finger back out, and you wonder if he just sent everyone out because he wanted to do just that. 

You cough, hands rising to hold your face, and don’t ask. 

Sukuna laughs, clearly happy with annoying you, like a child. You so badly want to lash out but the fear of retaliation is far more effective than any shackle. 

He has killed villages for less.

“See, this is why I didn’t kill you when I got rid of the rest of the scum!” He jokes, tilting his head to gaze with all four of his penetrating red eyes. “Such pleasing reactions!” 

Friends, you think darkly. Those scum were your friends who were more like family. Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Nobara, Yuuta, Yuuji and so many others. 

Tears fill your eyes as a soft voice seems to be at the back of your mind.

Megumi. 

Though Sukuna was fully transformed, pain filled you thinking that Megumi might be in that monstrous body, trapped and unable to escape.

His knee shifts up, causing a terrible feeling of butterflies and cockroaches to churn in your stomach from the feel. The move was far too personal, and you tried to shift so he wasn’t pressed so intimately against your rear.

Even trying to fall off would be preferable. But your throat is raised, thanks to the gold chain in Sukuna’s hand that pulls up as he twists.

The benefit of having four arms is he can manhandle you as he pleases.

His thick hand raised your chin and refused to let you turn an inch as you gazed hatefully into his eyes

“What a beautiful sight. You know, from the first moment I saw you, I knew you were special.” Another hand moves to pull back some stray hair behind your ear. 

“I hate you.”

Your hands shake, clenched in fists. 

“I know.” He says with a smirk. “You know why I keep you around, pet?”

You have nothing to say and don’t even care to know. But that won’t stop him.

He strokes your face, his thumb holding you in a position others might think lovers would use.

“The first time I gazed upon you, I felt a most unique heat in my chest that has persisted till this day. Love, perhaps.” He mocks.

“Disgusting.” You spit out, but he doesn’t pause.

“From the moment we crossed paths your fate was set, but only recently have I understood the extent of what you mean to me.” Sukuna seems to be smug, revealing this, and you think he’s probably just messing with your head again. 

The grip on your chin is starting to hurt.

Your chin shakes, and you grab the giant hand holding your face, digging in your fingers. You are certain he is going to kill you now. But you won’t cry or beg for mercy.

No, as a Gojo you would face down death and spit in his face.

So you do, hitting Sukuna right under his lower left eye.

“Go to hell, monster.” You growled, despite feeling the creak of bones in your face. 

And for a moment the world is deathly quiet.

Until Sukuna throws back his head, startling you with a loud howl as he releases your face to laugh. In pain and confusion, you are tongue-tied as he tilts his head, the look on his face almost fond.

“I could kill you, but I have a better plan. I think you would make a very interesting wife.”

You would have fallen off his leg had he not quickly placed a palm on the small of your back.

“I despise you.” You reply, seeing as there isn’t anything else to say. But Sukuna doesn’t get mad at you for speaking out. Instead, he grins, which is much worse. “I’ll never be yours.”

But his mouth grows wide, and he tugs you forward, pushing you against his chest. Your lack of elegant words doesn’t bother Sukuna.

“Not as a human. I recently acquired a certain cursed spirit on my travels, and by imbuing you with her powers, your transformation should be complete. Rika would suit you well. You’re already halfway there, thanks to those marks suing my blood.”

You had been eating less, not hardly sleeping and the whole blood-shed thing was sort of muffled…

You gape, twisting to try and escape or even to move enough to allow your brain to function.

What?

He gives you a long look that you don’t know how to interpret. “You've lost enough of that wretched humanity that your body won’t break when you bear my children.”

You straighten, horrified, reeling back, but stopped. 

Oh gods, there wasn’t anything more ridiculous than Sukuna talking about reproducing with you? 

“No-“ He waves off your rejection, like a wisp of wind. You don’t remember starting to shake so hard, but it seems like you can see yourself from above, trembling a leaf in a storm.

“Of course, pet. You didn’t think I’d keep a stupid thing like you around to look nice? I even practiced on those pathetic humans.” 

You dig your fingers into his chest, ripping it open with fury alone. 

“I’ll kill you.” You say, “I’ll kill myself-“

Sukuna chuckles as blood pours from his chest, but the wound heals faster than you can dig. Sukuna's hand shoves your head into his blood, and iron fills your mouth.

“Heh, brat. Look at you, a Gojo doomed to be the queen of curses. A fitting end to that cursed line.”

“Someday, the chance will come, and one day, I’ll kill you.” You swear, teeth dripping in red. 

“Women like you never leave their brats, so I’ll breed you till you have no escape,” Sukuna says, bending down and giving a soft kiss to your painted lips.