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"Is this a dream?"
Yuji's voice doesn't echo. It rings around him like several hundred pinprick raindrops on a tin roof. Sharp enough to shear.
The space around him is familiar. For a brief moment, a lapse of sanity, he wants to think of it as achingly familiar, but he pushes that thought as far down in his gut as it will go. Nothing about Sukuna's domain makes him ache with anything other than dread. Misery. Contempt. Hopelessness.
It's irrelevant how many times he's found himself here doing things he'd rather die than speak of out loud. What happens between him and Sukuna in what is, for all it matters, their collective imagination, doesn't have anything to do with what happens outside of it. Sukuna can tease and taunt in the light of day, brimming with a sadistic need to turn Yuji's face forcibly to the things he's done, but that's all it is. Oversaturated sadism.
No voice, raspy with gleeful cruelty, comes answering back, but Yuji know's Sukuna is lurking somewhere. Unless it's an actual figment of Yuji's dreaming mind, and it has nothing to do with Sukuna, but even then...
Even then, they tend to share dreams. He's never told anyone that before. It's absurd at best, compromising at worst. He's barely clinging to sanity as it is, but having everyone know that when he dreams, Sukuna dreams, or when he has nightmares, Sukuna is right beside him, suffering parallel to Yuji-
It's another kind of damning.
He kicks around loose bone fragments in the inch of bloody, murky water that lays over the expanse of Sukuna's domain. It feels endless, but Yuji knows it isn't. It's the inner workings of Sukuna's soul, and those are anything but vast and endless. The man is a shallow well, when he gets down to it. Very little emotional capacity, and even less ability to understand much of anything besides selfish, wanton destruction.
Some days, Yuji can't help but wonder if he's been made to look at the mirror of himself in these dreams on purpose. Some divine intervention to teach him a lesson about the darkness within. Or some shit like that. They share a body, so it's not like he gets to see Sukuna face-to-face in the waking world. Only in the recess of their mind can the two meet, equal in height, hair color, skin tone. Everything but some minor changes Sukuna makes to compensate for whose body he shares.
Sukuna's face looks older than Yuji's feels. More defined, sharper somehow. His body, too, isn't as soft or lean, it's harder, packed with more muscle. And of course, Yuji has refrained from tattooing his entire body with abstract lines to accentuate his features, although he has to admit, on his own face- they work nicely.
His sense of danger is absent in this domain. He walks around almost bored, waiting for Sukuna to appear. Waiting to see what kind of dream or nightmare it will turn out to be.
As of late it's just been a lot of fucking. Sometimes it's Yuji fighting desperately for any sense of dominance and control, taking what Sukuna lets him take, feeling big about it for approximately two minutes before the weight crashes down on him. Other times he's at the complete and utter mercy of Sukuna and his whims. Most times.
At the start, when both of them realized they could lapse into this muddled state of half-awake, half-unconsious, burried deep inside the core of their own minds, Sukuna would kill him over and over again. After a few hundred occurances, Sukuna switched tactics, and started simply beating the shit out of Yuji and calling it 'training'.
"What the fuck?"
His own voice, from his own throat, comes out garbled and slow. He stops dead in his tracks, all the peach colored fuzz on his forearms raising up in alarm. For a laughable moment, he wishes for a weapon. Something to hold in front of himself for security. For something to wrap a fist around.
There is a- creature. In here. With him. He fights the mad urge to call out to Sukuna. When has there ever been anything else inside of this dream domain?
Then it all falls together slowly like a deck of cards being shuffled amongst each other. A very large back, and four arms. Muscular shoulders. Four arms. The same salmon hair, slightly longer than Yuji's. Four arms.
It- the thing- turns around, and the sharp smile on it's face instantly lends Yuji a sick sort of relief. It's him. Dreaming in his true-form, apparently, but this is undoubtedly Sukuna. Yuji has only a split second to wonder if it's his Sukuna before remembering that he can't attatch his own possessive anywhere close to Sukuna without feeling like he can't breathe anymore.
"Brat," Sukuna addresses cooly. He's in a pair of white pants and nothing else. Sandals are discarded a few feet away. Why the fuck did Sukuna dream sandals just to take them off?
"What is this?" Yuji demands, entirely unafraid now that Sukuna's called him a brat. Sukuna scares him, but it's not the type of fear that warrants panic. It's more like a slow sink into a boiling hot tub. It eats him alive. Slowly. And he can't feel the pain of it anymore. His nerves have been fried.
Sukuna looks objectively terrifying like this. As terrifying as he is magnetic. It's impossible for Yuji to pull his eyes away.
The four arms are geuinely the least of it, although when Sukuna stands to full height and flexes four fists at once- all with stark, black rings around the wrists, and wicked sharp nails- he swallows nervously. Sukuna looks to have about two feet of height on him in this form, and at least a hundred pounds, easy. He wants the other one back. The one he can stand eye-to-eye with. The one whose body fits exactly into Yuji's because they're indentical.
The tattoos are the same, other than there being an extra set of them on account of the arms. His second set of eyes are wider, watching Yuji's body like they want to catch each micro-action he takes. Out of sheer morbid curiosity and nothing else, nothing else, Yuji glances down to the flat pane of muscle that is Sukuna's stomach, and sees a second, very large mouth there, right below his navel. It's closed, a small slit in the skin, but he can picture the teeth inside (does it even have teeth?) like rows of tiny jagged knives.
When he lifts his eyes back to Sukuna's, the other man raises an eyebrow, "Like what you see?"
"Um," Yuji starts stupidly, "why am I seeing it?"
"Your mind gets boring after a while, brat. I've got to dream up something interesting to pass the time," he says in a cold, flat tone.
Yuji's temper flares at the insinuation that he is boring. A very small, very weak part of himself wants to curl up in a ball and scream. "It must be so agonizing having to hang out in my body all day and occasionally come out to murder people," he snaps, "You get to sit back, relax, and do-"
"Nothing," Sukuna finishes for him, voice dangerous.
Yuji has become acquainted enough with Sukuna's moods to know which ones are shaping up to hurt, and which ones are Sukuna just gearing up to be an asshole. He nearly flinches at the ice in his voice, but he keeps it down because showing fear around Sukuna is a sure way to get eaten alive.
Terrifyingly fast, before Yuji can even open his mouth again, one of Sukuna's hands snatches out and wraps itself around Yuji's throat so hard his windpipe hurts. He lets out a strangled whisper of a yelp, and claws at the forearm holding him there desperately, like it might make any difference at all. Part of him hopes Sukuna just keeps squeezing so he can die right now and wake up. So he can shake this all off. He can take adderall and chug back energy drinks to stay awake for a couple days, just to avoid coming back.
Doesn't he say that to himself every time, though? Every time he wakes up, making this asinine promise to himself that he won't do it again. That it's wrong and bad. That Sukuna has killed and hurt so many people, and will likely kill and hurt so many more before this is all over. His friends would think he's lost it, if they knew what happened in Yuji's mind. They'd think he was folding.
"I'm not going to fuck you like this," Yuji spits, drawing a line in the sand.
Sukuna grins wide, pointed canines looking especially sharp today, and says the thing Yuji doesn't want to hear.
"It's adorable when you act like you've have a say in the matter."
He's right. Yuji knows he's right. He could scream and cry and fight every single time, and Sukuna might get bored eventually, or he'd just keep going, spurred on by Yuji's torment. There is the equal possibility though that he enjoys it more this way. That he likes Yuji's inner conflict of fucking the person who ruined his life. That he's just slowly breaking him down over time, letting that fact get to him until he's rotten from the inside out. That seems like something Sukuna might get off on.
Sukuna's bottom two hands come up slowly, and circle around Yuji's wrists. He has to stuff down the panic that threatens to well up inside of him. In his body, Yuji might be able to put up a good fight physically. In this form, Sukuna is entirely unbeatable. There is nothing he could hope to do, even if he wanted to.
But he doesn't want to, does he? Because otherwise, he'd be putting up more resistance. He'd be firmly saying no. He'd be trying to wake up rather than pitifully wishing Sukuna might murder him to shock him out of sleep. He's disgusted with himself, and when Sukuna takes the only hand that isn't busy wrapped around some part of Yuji and uses it to lightly stroke over the semi-hard dick in Yuji's pants, he groans inwardly, and the disgust turns to vile self-hatred.
"But you don't want to fuck me like this," Sukuna's voice is a low, mocking growl, breathing so close to Yuji's ear that it sends an electric sliver of lightning down his spine, pooling somewhere deep in his abdomen. His cock twitches, and his hips jerk up to meet Sukuna's hand, almost involuntarily.
Sukuna's mouth curls into a smirk as he pulls back, eyes dancing with sadistic delight. Yuji braces himself as Sukuna lets go of his wrists, and then starts touching him everywhere. None of it is particularly sexual, either. A thumb presses along the curve of his jaw, down the line of his throat. Another hand slips under his shirt and flutters over every individual rib like he's counting them.
Somewhere along the way, and Yuji is entirely unsure of where, Sukuna must have realized how badly Yuji wants to be touched. Not fucked, touched. Deep down, all he wants is someone to take care of him, if only for a few minutes. He wants a hand threading through his hair, someone to tell him it's going to be okay. Some days he wants to go to sleep and dream a Sukuna willing to lay Yuji's head in his lap and pet down his spine until the tension inside of Yuji unfurls. It's the weakest, most baseline desire Yuji holds in his heart, and somehow Sukuna cracked that open and is now managing to exploit it in the name of torment.
Sukuna must notice him physically relax. He does physically relax. Every muscle turns to mush beneath the continuous, soft touches. A whimper slips out from between his lips. His hands are shaking. He hates this. He never wants this to stop.
"That's it," Sukuna's words are something that is almost a praise. Almost exactly what Yuji needs. To be told he's good. That he's doing good. That it's going to be okay. He opens his mouth and then snaps it shut again, seconds away from fucking begging for it. For anything.
The hand on his cock turns, pressing harder by a fraction, but still only stroking up and down with two fingers, like Sukuna is trying to map the viens and ridges beneath the farbic. His legs start trembling. He reaches a point where he's almost maniacally inclined to ask what happens next, because Sukuna is never this slow. Yuji never has to wait for the next part, never has to ask for it. It just happens. He waits as long as he can physically wait, and when his vision blurs and pulses, he gasps out a needy, stupid, pathetic fucking-
"Please."
Thankfully it's all Sukuna needed. He backs them up, confident step after confident step, in sharp contrast to Yuji's feet stumbling over themselves, until his back is to something flat and hard, probably the huge expanse of ribs that crawl towards the ceiling. His own, Sukuna's, it doesn't seem to matter anymore. Is there even a difference? Yuji was born in this body, sure, but hasn't Sukuna managed to defile every single part of it inside and out, physical and mental? Who has the better claim at this point?
"Again," Sukuna demands.
Yuji's lips tilt into a frown. Sukuna's hand stills. He begs. Again.
"Please," he says it firmer, harder, like he can shape reality with his words, "please, Sukuna."
His name in Yuji's mouth makes Sukuna look feral. Yuji can't tear his eyes off the expression. He could be devoured whole from it, and he'd still keep looking.
Two hands work his clothes off. His shirt rips. It doesn't really matter. He kicks his pants away once they're around his ankles, feebly scrambles at the drawstrings of Sukuna's, desperate to go fast because going slow feels good but it makes him think too much. He has to turn it all off. He has to get lost in it.
Sukuna watches with growing, cat-like amusement as Yuji fumbles with his pants, and then in a rare stroke of luck, he seems to take pity on him, and steps out of them himself. Yuji's mouth falls open in stupid astonishment. Quite literally nothing could have prepared him for that, even though- two extra hands, two extra eyes, an extra mouth-
It's just- he didn't realize that rule extended to... other places. The guy only has two legs. Two ears. He figured- well he never really thought about it, but if he had he would have guessed the same applied to many other things that there were only supposed to be a set number of.
His hands flex, and then curl into fists. "I have no idea what the fuck I'm supposed to do with that," he confesses bluntly, mouth dry. He's so wired he can't tell if it's from adrenaline or fear. Maybe he's just hilariously out of his depth and it's starting to catch up to him.
Sukuna cocks his head to the side, and lost in the absurdity of the situation, Yuji draws a mental comparison to an adorable puppy. He needs to be clubbed in the back of the head. Then Sukuna lets out a gruff sort of sigh like he's contemplating something, and Yuji blinks up at him and hopes it conveys the wild need for some sort of instruction. He's far from complacent during these encounters, but this is-
"You have two hands," Sukuna comments snidely, "and I've seen you use them both before."
He cages Yuji in on either side with two arms. Nowhere to run. Yuji reaches down and feels sick at the thought of either of those going inside of him to any degree whatsoever, but he takes one in each hand. Yuji's hands aren't small- he's always been tall for his age, and his bodily proportions reflect that, but this Sukuna is fucking huge, and the weighty cock he has in each hand is dwarfing them. They're so hot to the touch it nearly burns, and he thought they were hard before but the second his hands wrap around them they grow slightly larger, and Sukuna lets out a satisfied hiss of breath.
"T-these- you're fucking huge," he stammers out, words tripping over his tongue. Sukuna doesn't dignify that with a reply, instead one of his hands not busy keeping Yuji put winds in his hair, forcing his head down so he has to look at what he's doing. The other goes to the flat of his stomach and pushes him back against the wall of bone even harder.
Sukuna's mouth twists into a sort of snarl as Yuji works his fists up and down, thumbs sliding over the top of each one to work the slick beads of pre-cum down the length of them. The veins on each one are different, he observes neatly, as his brain short-circuits trying to comprehend what he's doing. One is slightly larger than the other. He wonders how many sets of balls this guy has. Surely it's just one. Where the fuck would they all fit? Where the fuck does this fit?
He's so painfully hard he almost begs Sukuna to touch him again, but he bites down on his tongue so hard he tastes blood. The heat pooling in his stomach is making it so fucking hard to think- then Sukuna moves his hips forward in a slight, jerky motion, like he's fucking himself into Yuji's fist, Yuji whimpers, and then his own cock twitches, and Sukuna almost doesn't realize what's happening, but his eyes lock on Yuji's at the last second, and the hand that was against his stomach slides down and wraps painfully hard around the very base of Yuji's cock.
He stills with a pathetic, broken whimper, and tries thrusting forward, to get some reprieve from the tightness of Sukuna's fist.
"Were you about to cum from jerking me off?" Sukuna mocks viciously, but the disbelief in his voice is still there, and his eyes are burning. He liked it, Yuji realizes all at once, he likes having that affect on me.
"No," Yuji lies, still forced forward like a disobedient dog by the hand gripping his hair and tilting his head down. A bit of drool slips from his mouth. Sukuna scoffs and lets go of him all at once, which causes Yuji to suck in a near-pained gasp of surprise.
Sukuna inches a hand down Yuji's leg, and getting the wrong impression entirely, Yuji lets him haul it up around his waist, but his hand keeps moving until it's grasped firmly around his ankle. He steps back, pulls with the hand holding Yuji's leg, and his entire body goes out from under him. He hits the ground with a faint splash, so hard all the air rushes from his lungs.
When he breathes again, Sukuna is between his legs, hulking over him, looking far too delighted with himself.
"That was pathetic, brat."
"Fuck off," Yuji whines, "you liked it."
Sukuna grins, all teeth, "You probably won't like this," he tells Yuji wickedly, and pulls one leg up to rest against his chest, beating heart slamming against Yuji's calf, which he finds a second to be disgustingly satisfied for. Two hands hold his leg in place, one above his knee, fingers digging into his thigh, the other at his calf. The way it feels to be held so firmly in place is almost scratching that itch to be taken care of, to feel secure. Almost.
Yuji lets himself be lulled into a hazy bliss when Sukuna sticks two fingers in his mouth and orders him to suck. He does it enthusiastically, even when Sukuna pushes them back too far in his throat and he gags around them. Then those fingers withdraw, dragging a trail of spit down over Yuji's chest, and keep moving down until they're pressing inside him. Sukuna starts with two, which is just cruel, because his fingers are much larger than usual. It burns. Yuji's back arches in a feeble attempt at getting away from the pain, but Sukuna presses him down, forcing him to lay there and take it.
"You aren't putting both of those inside of me," he gasps with a pointed glance down. Sukuna gives him a wholly unimpressed look.
"Why not?" his voice rasps, "I can make them fit if I want to," he gives Yuji a feral smile, nothing warm or friendly about it in the slightest. Yuji shakes his head but gives up on verbal resistance. Ultimately, Sukuna is going to do whatever Sukuna wants to do, and Yuji is too blitzed out and boneless to bother trying to manipulate him subtly into doing something different.
Besides, if he knows Sukuna, then he knows he's is determined to put both of those in one hole at the one time, which means either his mouth, or his ass, and he knows which one he prefers, because he rather likes his jaw attatched where it is, and not broken or dislocated. Even if it's a dream, even if he wakes up fine, he can do without that particular horror.
When he adds a third finger, Yuji's cock twitches on his stomach, catching Sukuna's attention. His mouth twists as he brings a hand down and runs two fingers through the sticky puddle of precum on Yuji's skin, soaking the peachy hair that's running down past his navel, and directly avoiding his cock. "You're leaking everywhere," Sukuna says it like it disgusts him. Yuji stifles a sob. Sukuna wipes it off on Yuji's thigh at the same time his other hand scissors his fingers apart so forcefully it's downright cruel.
"Nn- S-Sukuna- can't-"
"Shut up," Sukuna snaps. Yuji doesn't listen. His leg against Sukuna's chest is shaking with how bad he needs to cum. It feels like every inch of him is on fire, heat writhing through his veins, worming it's way towards his heart, which is thumping so loud he can hear the rush of it in his ears. He's whimpering like a beaten dog. It's all too much- the hands on his leg, the fingers inside of him working at a downright ridiculous speed, his cock sitting entirely neglected on his stomach-
Sukuna withdraws all three fingers at once, brutally fast, without any warning.
"Ah!" Yuji yelps, leg twitching so hard he nearly kicks Sukuna in the face. He can hardly form a straight thought, so desperate to be touched in any way at all. He'd beg, he's gotten so feverish he'd start begging, but he doesn't want to distract Sukuna from what he's doing, which is taking one of the huge, angry-red cocks attatched to his body and lining it up against Yuji's hole.
He sucks in a breath and holds it there. Sukuna hears it, and glances up, an irritated look crossing his face, "Relax," he instructs, "Breathe for me."
Breathe for me. For me. Yuji might pass out. He might honestly just pass out and wake up and hate himself for two entirely different reasons. It's a dream, he repeats incessantly in his head, a dream. Dreams can't hurt you. Dreams don't matter. It's just a dream.
Sukuna spits in his hand, a gesture Yuji finds uncomfortably, disturbingly hot, and uses it to fists his cock- the only lubrication Yuji gets, apparently. He's used to that sort of thing with Sukuna, but it's not like his body adapts to something that happens to him in a dream, so it hurts like it's new every single time, and this will be worse. He bites the fuck out of his bottom lip as he waits for Sukuna to line himself up and slowly push in.
Yuji's head falls back against the ground with a listless thump, hair soaking through, and Sukuna hisses when the tip of his cock notches in past tight muscle, "Fuck, kid," he breathes out hard, "you're tight."
Yuji pouts, afraid to move because it already hurts so unbelievably bad- "Mmn- y-you're just, ah! Too big-"
Sukuna stills, as if considering Yuji's words, and then leans forward slightly, pressing down on the leg he's still got against his chest, and forces his hips forward, bottoming out in one merciless shove that punches the air from Yuji's chest. He's heaving for breath, tears spiking in his eyes, and his heart is skipping every other beat. Holy fucking shit, holy fucking shit-
"Remember what I said, brat?" Sukuna asks, voice all rough, "Breathe."
Yuji breathes. Or tries to. It feels like he's being skewered in half. Like he'll never go back together the same way again. His eyes are scrunched closed, and his lungs are tight with every breathe he tries to take. All he can hear is Sukuna near panting, all he can smell is Sukuna, like licorice and cherries and bright, clean fire, all he can feel is Sukuna. Like he isn't his own person anymore. Like their souls merged fully together, and he'll never rip himself free.
In the moment, it's divine. He wants to swallow the feeling whole, rip it's meat from ivory bones and chew until his jaw grows tough and sinewy. He wants to sink his claws into something. When he wakes up in the morning it won't feel like that at all but that- he doesn't care right now. All he cares about is feeling.
When Yuji peeks his eyes open, Sukuna is above him, watching carefully with one set of eyes, but the other's are trained downwards. Yuji follows them, and realizes how fucking erotic the scene down there actually is. He can't see where Sukuna is burried inside of him, because his other, second cock is right in the way, hovering deliciously right above Yuji's. He watches in absolute hypnosis as a bit of pre-cum drools from the tip of Sukuna's cock and lands right on his own. He arches into the burn of the cock inside of him, wordlessly begging Sukuna to move.
Instead of doing what Yuji wants, as usual, Sukuna stays where he is. Almost experimentally, he reaches down with one very large hand, and wraps it around both himself, and Yuji, pressing them together. It's nearly too much. Yuji's stomach muscles are fluttering with the inability to decide if he needs to cum now or if he needs to wait until Sukuna moves his hand and forces him to. Not that much force is required, he's been on the precipice of it for the entire time they've been doing this.
Yuji gives a stuttering gasp of astonishment when Sukuna begins to pump his hand up and down, rolling both of them in his firm grasp. His cock against Yuji's feels a thousand degrees hotter, like his skin is burning. Yuji writhes against him, hips trying to buck up into the feeling wildly.
"D-do they both- fuck- do they both cum at the same time?" Yuji asks frantically, sweat soaking his hairline as he pants, eyes fixated on Sukuna's hand.
He doesn't slow or stop, but he does give Yuji a downright incredulous look, "Why are you asking about the semantics of my autonomy instead of cumming all over my hand?"
It's instantaneous. Like the entire world goes white and Yuji can't breathe or think or move or feel a fucking thing except how good this is. He's distantly aware of how pathetic and needy he must sound and look, cock pulsing in Sukuna's hand, gasping and moaning. He just doesn't give a shit.
His ears are ringing when the sensation abates, and Sukuna still has a death grip on both of them but he's moving his hips now, giving deep, fast thrusts that Yuji can barely keep up with. It hurts like nothing else he's ever experienced in his life except maybe getting stabbed clean through the torso. Or having his heart pulled out. Though- isn't that exactly what's happening to him right now? Letting Sukuna do this again and again, isn't it the same as jerking the muscle from his chest and ripping it to meaty, pulpy shreds in front of his face?
He gets hard shockingly fast again, swelling against Sukuna's hand, and he's so sensitive he can't fight his own body trying to wriggle away from it. It's so much. Too much touch, everywhere. Just as he thinks it, the hand on his thigh holding his leg in place starts drawing slow circles in his skin, and Yuji titls his head back and sobs. They wrench out of his throat painfully hard, mingled with obscene moans of satisfaction. Don't think about it, he begs himself, don't think, don't think, please don't think-
If he thinks too hard he'll die. He's positive he'll die. In his sleep. His heart will stop entirely, go cold in his chest, and both him and Sukuna will die. Don't think.
Luckily he has a very good distraction. His body slowly gets accustomed to the huge girth sawing in and out of him at a brutal pace, and he gets to experience all the other little agonies, like the stretch of his hamstring, and the rough slam of Sukuna's body against his, and the way his hand is still squeezing the fucking life out of Yuji's cock.
He can't tell if he cums again or not. It all feels the same, and that same is blissfully, unimaginably, stupidly fucking good. Amazing. The best thing he's ever felt in his life. That, and Sukuna cums all over them, ropes of thick, white cum that cover both of them and his hand, accompanied by the most sensual, fucked up growls that Yuji has ever heard come out of him.
"Fuuck," Sukuna sigh raggedly over him, head tilted back, "so fucking good for me, brat. So good."
For me.
That euphoric feeling of too good too much too fast never stop only lasts a few minutes until it devolves into something so much fucking worse and somehow better, which is sublime agony that there is no escape from. It feels like Sukuna is quite literally inside of him, toying with his organs and his guts, rearranging everything to his liking. He has a constant stream of tear tracks down the side of his face, and his hands have a death grip on Sukuna's arm and leg, short nails digging in past the barrier of flesh. He wants to draw blood. He hopes he's drawn blood.
"Had enough?" Sukuna taunts, but he's breathing hard, too, like he can't catch hold of enough air, and the hand on Yuji's calf keeps tightening and relaxing and tightening again. So good for me. Yuji wants to heart his heart out and eat it in front of him. He bets it's huge. The size of his fucking face. He'd be hours eating it all.
Yuji shakes his head, "No- nnnng- no- fuck me... Keep going," his words come out in a jumbled mess of heavy panting and broken moans. Urged on, Sukuna pulls out slightly, so he isn't stuffed to the hilt, and tilts his hips slightly. Yuji is blissfully unaware of what's about to happen, but when Sukuna starts thrusting up again, quick, angry little thrusts that hit that spot inside of him, that perfect, all-consuming fucking spot-
His stomach is literally dripping with cum. It's pornographic. He adds to it. The feeling going up through his spine and his stomach is poisonous. He feels half drunk. Or like he's in love. Dangerous, ugly, pervasive little thoughts. He reminds himself again, heavily, mid-orgasm, that it's just a dream. He's allowed to have whatever sick fuck dreams he wants, even if Sukuna is here experiencing them right alongside him. It doesn't matter, it's never mattered. It's fine. Don't think.
"Fuck, fuck," his voice is embarrassingly high, desperate for something even though Sukuna's already given him fucking everything, "Please, Kuna' please, I-"
Sukuna shakes his head twice like he's trying to get something out of it, practically throws Yuji's leg down and hauls his hips up on his lap so he can get better leverage, and fucks into him hard enough that Yuji sees literal fucking stars. He places a hand over Yuji's stomach, disgustingly wet with cum, and presses down so they can both feel the sickening weight of him slamming in over and over and over again.
Sukuna finally cums like that, one hand pressed down, two on either of Yuji's hips, the other still wrapped around both of their cocks. It seems like it lasts forever, and he hauls Yuji painfully tight against him when he does, letting out an animalistic string of grunts and growls. Some of it is words. Yuji has to choose not to hear them because some of them are words and they're not the usual degrading bullshit that comes from his mouth.
When Sukuna finally comes down, his eyes are all out of focus, glossed over, and he hasn't pulled out yet but he looks down at Yuji, takes in the utter state of dishevelment he's in, and leans over, dragging a thumb down Yuji's lower lip, bitten fat from his teeth.
"Beautiful," Sukuna's voice is gravelly, and Yuji blinks up at him in astonishment, trying to process what he just said. Seconds later, Sukuna seems to realize it too, because he pulls out painfully fast and rolls away, leaving Yuji in the blood-soaked water, messy, disgusting, and in a state of disbelief.
Sukuna has called him a lot of things. A lot of very cruel, disrespectful, derogatory things. He called him a fag once for hugging Megumi. A fag. And now he's going to sit there and look at him like that and call him fucking- fucking beautiful?
It makes Yuji so mad he wakes up. He doesn't know how he does it, has never seemed to be able to master the ability before (from any dream, not just the recent ones...) but his eyes snap open fixed on his cieling fan, and his bed is beneath him. Clean, dry. He's in clothes, still. Shorts and a t-shirt. He is decidedly not bruised up and covered in cum.
Sukuna is quiet. Like he's still caught there in that dream, maybe. Or maybe he's awake, too, just lying somewhere cold and dark in the recess of Yuji's mind.
Yuji tosses his legs out of bed and leans over, head in his hands. Don't think. So he doesn't. He doesn't ruminate on the miserable agony of doing something like that and then waking up and having the bastard stuck inside of his brain. He doesn't. He doesn't even consider that Sukuna- however briefly- found him beautiful. Not vile, disgusting, wretched, pathetic, wormy- whatever foul shit he's ever said before. Beautiful. Not the hand drawing slow circles on the skin of his thigh. Nothing like that.
Nothing like that at all.