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His little wife made him feel strange things.
Yuuji himself was strange, a being that dared to look the King of Curses in his many eyes and refuse to quiver. A being that fretted over his mortal wounds no matter how many times he explained that with RCT; Sukuna would always heal. Yet, his wife, his queen, insisted on cleaning the wounds free of blood and brushing his lips over it in a sweet kiss.
Ridiculous, but charming.
And to Sukuna, that about summed Yuuji up.
"Why are you staring at me, little one?" Sukuna murmurs, when Yuuji's pensive gaze lingers a fraction too long. His queen tilts his head.
"You're handsome." Yuuji smiles, and then kisses his cheek.
That seems to be all there is to it — Yuuji's head swivels to stare ahead, admiring the tranquility of their garden and the bleeding orange and red of the sky. His body melts to Sukuna's, head tilted to rest on his arm. While Yuuji's own snaked across to gently caress the hardened flesh above his second mouth; gentle skims of soft skin on scarred skin.
Now, Sukuna is the one staring. All four eyes transfixed on Yuuji who seemed content to lay here, sap up Sukuna's warmth and affection. He searches within his lover for that hint of mockery, a jest that would open an old scar.
Sukuna knew he was ghastly, beastly, a monster.
Yet there is none, and when his gaze becomes too leaden. Yuuji's head cranes up.
"My love, why are you staring at me?"
Rather than answer, Sukuna sweeps Yuuji into his lap. His little wife letting out a soft squeak of surprise as he is manhandled in the way that always made him giggle.
Anything to hide the strange, pink tint to his cheekbones.
These strange blooms continue at every turn; ripe like spring pollen. Threading roots under his nail bed and down to his bones.
Yuuji likes to sleep on top of him.
Their bed is large; has to be to accommodate for the sheer mass that is Sukuna. Yet, in all of the blankets and pillows, Yuuji always rolls atop his husband. Legs stretched to lay on either side of his sternum as Sukuna's nose was tickled by the brush of peach-pink hair.
"Your palms are so warm," Yuuji sighs. It is open mouthed, grazing his neck. Sukuna's hands rake down the flimsy excuse for sleepwear that Yuuji wore. Sheer, thin. Leaving little to the imagination.
Sukuna makes a low non-committal noise, his eyes themselves are drooping. Rosy eyelashes fluttering and the world becoming soft and muted in the dim light.
In truth, Sukuna found it hard to sleep without Yuuji on top of him now. Wrapped in all four arms and safely tucked away from the sorcerers.
"My gentle husband." Yuuji says again, and it is like the purr of a cat Sukuna stumbled upon once or twice in his youth. The things that didn't seem so weary of him just because of his arms, or at the time the protruding bone that had slowly devoured the side of his face. Their fur soft when they brushed his skinny legs, warm and smelling distinctly of nature after lazing in the sun.
Perhaps that is why he likes when Yuuji comes in from his summer naps, dazed and warm. Crawling into his lap to be pliant and malleable.
"Gentle?" His eyes snap open, now far more awake a moment ago. Yuuji bounces slightly with a scoff from his chest. "I ravage villages for pleasure; eat the flesh of men for taste. There is no gentleness in me, little one. Only strength."
"Hum." And there is that sound, a soft dialect in Yuuji-speak that lets Sukuna know his lover disagrees.
"Yet you write poetry, about the moon, the stars. The flowers and tide of spring," Yuuji nuzzles closer — the wisps of fabric ride up his thigh, exposing a chub of flesh.
Without thinking, Sukuna pulls it down so he is more comfortable.
"Your ink strokes are precise, more than mine could ever be no matter how much you try to teach me." And that was true, Yuuji's lines were always slightly scraggly. Too broad, too fast. Sukuna cherished every single one, though.
"You slave over your pottery, ensure it is even. That there is not even the faintest of hairline cracks — that to me, speaks of gentleness, consideration." He eyed the handmade collection that dotted their room, painted by his hands too.
A hand not caressing Yuuji curls in the air, Sukuna can't understand why it suddenly looked less monstrous as it was.
"And you are gentle with me. My love, my king. When you lift me, when you kiss me, when you roll me over in the morning and thrust into me." The temptation was there, now. To shut Yuuji up, to stop his soft spill of praises. To hear more of it; to show Yuuji how gentle he could be.
"You were never given grace, but you have so much of it in you, Sukuna. Or else you would have never taken in Uraume, or me. There is empathy in you, humanity. Or else you would not love me, you would not love art."
Yuuji's head raises from the junction of Sukuna's neck to brush the lips of his husband. Sukuna searches again, for that glint of deception.
He sees nothing but conviction.
"I will teach you."
And the kiss they share, is gentle too.
Because the burn in Sukuna's throat, is not.
One of Sukuna's favorite times with Yuuji, is dipping into the natural springs together.
It is something of a luxury for them — being the King of Curses meant there was a steady stream of sorcerers that attempted to uproot him from his throne. Their attempts have only increased since Sukuna took to having a wife. As they feared the potential child of the King of Curses.
There were too many attempts made on Yuuji's life, ones he knew about from scars etching his skin. The ones he did not know about at all, thwarted by Sukuna's inked in red spear before they could ever scream.
It is why Yuuji is stashed away; forbidden from leaving their home that is marked by charms and spells to keep it near invisible unless he is to be accompanied by Sukuna or Uraume. He begged, though. To see the scenery, to fight alongside his husband and Uraume. Yuuji could handle himself — has defended himself against the scum when Sukuna could not.
But he cannot bear to imagine the womb of his wife cut out for display, his head on a pike they pranced around like a hunted wolf.
But now is that spoken of luxury, the sorcerers have been wounded and impaired, it will be months before they gather their strength while they plot and plot.
Even Sukuna enjoyed a reprieve from battle.
And he loved the light blooming in Yuuji's eyes when Sukuna agrees to take him out.
"Ahhh! I missed this so much." Yuuji twists in the water, and Sukuna allows himself to not only soak in the bubbly spring but to soak in the expanse of exposed flesh. Yuuji was muscular. Dedicated to sparring with Sukuna and kept in shape because of it, but malleable with the pudge of his arms and belly. Fed well from the beasts Sukuna drops at his feet.
His skin glistens, biceps flexing as he pushed back wet bangs from his forehead.
"See something you like?" Yuuji asks, a mischievous smile that revealed sharp teeth.
Sukuna's own lip curls, "something I want to eat."
He motions for Yuuji to come, and his lover does with a coy giggle. Taking root on his thigh, the brush of skin against Yuuji's parts makes him shiver.
Sukuna's lower arms cup his waist, hoisting Yuuji closer until their bare chests were flush. The tongue of his lower mouth licks a stripe flesh, earning a squirm and subsequent grind to his thigh.
"Ah," he wanted to devour those pink lips, to see Yuuji's flush darken. "No, I don't want to make the water filthy.
"I thought you loved when I mount you in the springs," Sukuna clicks his tongue. But doesn't make another move to derive pleasure from Yuuji, instead he holds him in place. The upper set of arms resting on the warm rocky barrier that soothed the ache in his back.
"I never said I don't." There was something beautiful about being taken in nature. Sukuna bare, the vast ocean of his eyes swallowed by a dark abyss as he towered over Yuuji and made the great god trees bend in submission. To see Sukuna at his roots, disheveled, snarling. Meeting his husband halfway and holding what he needed to relinquish.
"But I just want to see you, for now." Slender fingers reached to brush a piece of fallen bang from Sukuna's eye, each one followed the digits like a hunter. "You are so beautiful."
"I should be telling you that," Sukuna huffs, hates the way his skin warms and how it is not from the water. There is a demure expression on Yuuji, pleased. "You do, all the time. There is no harm in me saying it too."
"You truly think that?” The King of Curses drawls, disbelieving.
"I do." Yuuji nods, firm. "How could you not be? With your markings. A painting upon a marbled god's flesh. You are breathtaking, otherworldly."
"Yuuji…"
"I have never once thought otherwise." Yuuji traces the very markings that had scorned Sukuna from birth, before he had the arms, the eyes, the mouth. His touch is faint and delicate, as if they are something to be worshipped and adorned.
"I'll say it as many times as I have to, until you believe me."
"Then you'll be saying it for all eternity, little one."
"Good," Yuuji leans in, wraps his arms around Sukuna's neck and bats his eyelashes. "If it means eternity with you."
There is a child cradled in his hands.
His child.
Uraume dabs at Yuuji's forehead, quiet murmuring of praises. The midwives that had been invited (kidnapped) to oversee Yuuji's labor gawked in the corner.
"Go." Sukuna commands, and they skitter free. Their footsteps beating the flooring, Yuuji had requested they would not be harmed in the estate.
And they won't.
As soon as they cross the barrier from his lands into wild lands, is another story though.
The baby coos, soft little hiccups and bubbly spit coating its mouth. On reflex, one Sukuna didn't know he possessed. He dabs the baby's lip with the cloth it is wrapped in.
"A girl," Yuuji whispers, his voice dipped in awe. "A little Princess of Curses."
"Or one of winter," Sukuna mused. The wind howled outside, followed by the dance of snowflakes. He wondered if there was anything symbolic to it; born of accursed blood in the tide of death and rebirth.
"You did excellent." The King of Curses plants a kiss to Yuuji's brow, his lips taste faintly of salty sweat. But Yuuji glows though he is worn. "I'm proud of you."
"I didn't expect her to be so small," Yuuji eyed him accusingly, Sukuna barks a quiet laugh. Forgiving the slight just this once, Yuuji had labored from dusk until night.
His little girl must be like him, then. Loving moonlight.
"The next one will be bigger, then. But perhaps more easier to birth."
Yuuji groaned and flopped his head against the cushioned pillow. Heaving quiet breaths as he stared aimlessly at their ceiling, Sukuna allowed him his reprieve.
"Name her."
The child is rocked in his arms awkwardly, Sukuna does not know whether to sway his whole body or merely his arms. She seems content, though. Her hiccups and shrill whines subsided.
Sukuna stills as Yuuji's words lay on him, "what happened to your list of frankly horrid names?"
A huff of laughter. "I want you to name her, she is your daughter too."
Sukuna ponders this, as he stares down at faint wisps of pink hair. The baby is squishy, too chubby to make out distinct features. But he thinks he sees his nose, maybe the slope of Yuuji's almond eyes.
"Runaki." He decides, the name slipping from his tongue before he fully grasps that it has slipped.
Yuuji's smile is sleepy, eyes dropping in exhaustion.
"That's a nice name."
"Gentle." Sukuna whispers.
"Just like her papa," Yuuji mumbles before the tide of sleep takes him.
"Papa," Runaki's brow furrowed in frustration. "S'too hard!"
"You are too impatient." Sukuna gripes, stilling his wiggly daughter on his folded legs. The little girl harrumphs angrily.
She inherited his temper, it seemed.
Runaki has somehow managed to stain herself in ink, and somehow Sukuna too. Tiny little fingerprints dot his wrists and arms and somehow even his face.
She glares angrily down at the page full of illegible writing, sloppy and uncoordinated next to her papa's beautiful penmanship.
In the blink of an eye, the page is ablaze. Curls of black smoke and red fire tinged pink. Runaki yelps, scrabbling back against her papa as Sukuna's eyebrows shoot upwards in a rare display of shock.
"Papa!"
"Oh my." Sukuna smothers a proud smile, "it seems you've developed a cursed technique."
Runaki's fear is quickly strangled by her excitement, "really? I did? Did I papa?" She asks, tipping her head back to stare up at Sukuna.
"Well, that was not me." The fire spits and fizzles as it dies with Runaki's anger. Leaving ash and wakes of singed paper.
"Yay!"
"What wasn't you?" Yuuji appears, slightly alarmed at the smell of smoke. Runaki wiggles out of Sukuna's hold to tug at the kimono of her mother.
"Mama! Mama! I got my curs- my curts-"
"Cursed technique." Sukuna supplies.
"That!"
"Oh my little princess," Yuuji coos, kneeling the best he can with their son perched on his hip and his belly round yet again to press a kiss to whorls of pink hair. "You'll be as strong as your papa."
"Or stronger." Runaki's mismatched eyes of gold and blue twinkle.
"Careful now, princess. I like you, but I don't like you that much." Sukuna teases, earning a tongue from his daughter. Yuuji chuckles as he adjusts Kosei on his hip. His son is quiet, cautious. A break from Runaki's wild temperament. He only hoped it lasted.
Until that second mouth on his stomach decided to wail.
Runaki runs off, a deceleration to try to set more things on fire sharp on her tongue.
"That is your child," Yuuji glared as Sukuna lifts to take Kosei from him. The little boy babbles happily, little coos for Papa on his tongue.
"I believe she is more yours, I distinctly recall you punching all my trees when you discovered divergent fist."
"Oh, shush." Yuuji grumbles. Sukuna softens his ire by sliding an extra hand under his round belly to lift the weight off his back and feet.
"Oh, that feels good." He shudders.
"This one will be the big one, I imagine."
"They certainly like to kick a lot." There were bruises to prove it too, ones Sukuna kissed every night as Runaki snored into her pillow and Kosei snuggled next to Yuuji. All three of them enveloped in his arms by the end of the night.
"Apologies for putting you through it, little one. But you are too irresistible like this." Sukuna presses a kiss to Yuuji's temple, his wife grumbles once more. But the pink hue to his ear spoke of being charmed.
"You are too, you know." Yuuji's head moves to catch Sukuna's lip, "handsome, beautiful, as a father."
"Your handsome husband?"
"My handsome husband."
"Do you believe me now?" Yuuji asks in the quiet of the night.
"Believe what?"
Runaki has had a nightmare, pearls of tears cling to her thick eyelashes as she whimpers. Sukuna coddles her closely, covets her from her dark dreams.
Yuuji looks at him, studies him. Just like he did all those years ago.
I will teach you.
Sukuna's head drops to look toward his son, sleeping quietly by Yuuji's heavy belly.
"I do not believe I am a gentle person, as I do not believe I am a person." Runaki seeks him closer, without restraint Sukuna pulls his daughter nearer. "But there was, is, truth to your words. My grace, my love, my gentleness is reserved for few and I would do anything to protect it. I will kill thousands if it means you are safe, I will desecrate the pure. I will plunge them in sin."
"I know, I never sought to change you."
"Didn't you?" Sukuna mumbles.
"When I married the King of Curses, I knew what that meant." To be complicit in bloodshed, to give others dishonorable deaths. "But do you know why I did?"
Sukuna stays silent, tensed for Yuuji's blight of words.
"Because you would have let me go if I didn't want to, you would never say it. You likely would have hunted me down too, but you would've gave me the chance. Sukuna."
"I am not as invulnerable as I thought to love." Blue eyes rise to meet shimmering gold. "You taught me that the moment I met you."
An unruly gangly teenager he thought would be nothing more than an extra servant to stand behind Uraume, who knew he would worm his way into an unbeaten heart.
"I love you as you are," Yuuji whispers, "and I love you for who you have become."
Sukuna's arm reached across to pull his wife and son close. "You have made me into this."
"I have made us into one."