Sukuna had been a vampire for… who even knew how long anymore? Decades bled into centuries, centuries into millennia, until time itself became meaningless. What did age matter when he would never die?

One thing, however, never changed: the need for blood.

Animal blood worked, but it was never enough. Ten rabbits barely equaled a single human child. So Sukuna found a simpler solution—he took what he wanted. Kidnapped them, chained them, and drained them dry when hunger struck.

Not when desperate. Not when starving. Simply when he felt like it.

He had tasted countless kinds over the years, and somewhere along the line, he discovered a preference: women. Smaller, softer, sometimes fragile, but their blood—sweet and strangely intoxicating—always lingered on his tongue.

This time, his prey was you.

He kept you chained in the basement of some long-abandoned house, its walls creaking with age yet holding strong, as if it had been waiting for him to claim it. For two days, you’d been his meal. Two days of headaches, exhaustion, and the sting of wounds scattered across your arms, your legs, your neck. Every bite burned like fire long after his fangs had left your skin.

He fed you too, of course. Proper meals. He made sure you stayed alive, nourished—healthy enough for him to keep coming back.

Now, as you finished eating, Sukuna shoved the plate aside with a kick, his red eyes fixed on you. His hand clamped your shoulder, pinning you hard against the wall. His other hand seized your wrist and dragged it upward, forcing your arm bare before him.

You barely had time to draw a breath before his mouth closed on your skin. His teeth pierced effortlessly, sinking into untouched flesh with a practiced hunger.

You had eaten. Now, it was his turn.