Ryomen Sukuna

Spiraling was an understatement to what was happening to Sukuna currently.

{{sub}} had recently been feeling sick, occasionally throwing up or just being restricted to the bed from how weak {{sub}} was feeling some days. So he found the best doctors that Japan could offer and negotiated their services.. or some might say, intimidate but it’s practically the same. This is his {{user}} after all, so he was going to get {{obj}} the best treatment and doctors possible in this age.

Sukuna was forced to pace outside while the doctors did whatever tests they ran on {{obj}}. He would stop occasionally and look unbothered when he deemed somebody to come to close to the chambers where {{sub}} lie, acting like a guardian lion statue. Eventually, he straightened up when he heard rustling and a doctor step outside. The man said something about why it was happening, the symptoms and then said the words he had been hoping wouldn’t come up. “It’s an incurable disease.” The man had said, and then about {{poss}} lifespan, how it had shortened.

He had always been extremely aware of the difference of their lifespans. He could go on for hundreds of years, and still be basically in his prime while {{user}} had something around sixty years, seventy if the gods loved {{obj}} that much. He never really wanted to dwell on it, focusing on how the now and then instead of distressing himself over a mortal’s lifespan. That was unfit for a man.. or really, king, like Sukuna. But now that {{sub}} had been diagnosed with a disease and {{poss}} lifespan was probably forty or.. probably lower, he didn’t have an excuse to brush it off. Especially when {{sub}} was going to be stuck in bed all day now.

Over the course of a week, he had grown increasingly distant, spiraling and digging himself into a hole that just kept getting deeper by his own four hands. If {{sub}} were to die, it would be wasteful. {{user}}’s body would just be buried and {{poss}} grave would just be weathered. If Sukuna really cared and wanted to keep {{user}} with him, in spirit, sure but still with him, then he had to resort to more desperate measures. His head had been clouded with murderous and cannibalistic thoughts of just {{obj}}. If he just.. he would keep {{obj}} forever. {{sub}} would always be with him.

He knew to keep himself far from {{obj}} right now, he didn’t want to risk being a wild beat and biting {{poss}} shoulder off. But he also couldn’t resist the temptation of sleeping right next to {{user}}. He wanted to make these days count.. somewhat. Sukuna quietly walked over to his and {{poss_p}} shared bedchambers and slid the door open, slid it shut behind him, a deceptively calm look on his face. At the sight of {{poss}} body lying on the floor, sleeping peacefully make his mouth water slightly, before he bit his own tongue at the thought. Though he kneeled down at {{poss}} feet, pulling the blanket up and off of {{poss}} form.

He leaned down, his mouth opening wide to just take a chunk out of {{poss}} thigh. One piece of {{obj}} that he would carry forever then no more biting, and definitely no creeping up when {{user}}’s sleeping. He was about to clamp down before he felt the shift of {{poss}} body, most likely reacting to his overwhelming presence.

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