Chapter Text
The shift in Jujutsu society after Satoru and Sukuna joined forces, and with the higher-ups now dead, was monumental. First off, no one else died. Both Itadori Yuji and Yuta Okkotsu were still alive and well. While the Tokyo school was being practically rebuilt from the ground up, the teachers and students were temporarily moved to the Kyoto branch.
Satoru had generously donated a large sum of Gojo family money to help rebuild the school. Principal Yaga and Yoshinobu also pitched in significant amounts to handle the media frenzy— since a huge portion of the city had been destroyed. The official story was that it was a terrorist attack, and the case was classified as confidential.
Luckily, the dorms at Kyoto were just as big and spacious as the ones in Tokyo, so overcrowding wasn't an issue, and the students were adjusting well to the change.
Sukuna, however, refused to set foot there. He grumbled about being tired of those rooms and threatened to burn them down if he had to stay in one again. Satoru had laughed and assured him that they could live in his penthouse in the city instead— since, well, Sukuna was unemployed and basically his sugar-baby now anyway.
Now, not all the changes in the Jujutsu society were smooth or subtle. Especially when it came to the shift in power dynamics. Word spread like wildfire that Ryomen Sukuna was alive, with his own body and full power restored. And even faster than that, the news about Gojo Satoru being involved with the King of Curses was everywhere. So, congratulations Yuta Okkotsu— you weren't the only sorcerer screwing a curse anymore.
A few weeks after the whole Shinjuku showdown, the Jujutsu sorcerers were pulling sleepless nights, trying to exorcise the ridiculous number of curses that had popped up. With the higher-ups gone, it was complete chaos. All first and second-year students, along with non-jujutsu tech sorcerers, jumped in to help.
Satoru also got introduced to some of the new faces. Like Choso, the cursed womb spirit who, for some messed up reason, turned out to be Yuji's brother. And things only got weirder. Sukuna’s twin—whom he ate while still in their mother’s womb, gross—was reincarnated as Jin Itadori, Yuji's father. Which makes Sukuna Yuji’s uncle—like, what the fuck? And to top it off, Kenjaku is Yuji's birth mother. Actual birth mother.
At that point, Satoru had enough. He refused to hear another word about that cursed family tree. The next thing he knew, he'd probably end up as Yuji's long-lost sister. Fucking hell.
The past few weeks had been brutal for the sorcerers. And just when things seemed to be spiraling out of control, Ryomen Sukuna stepped in. Not because he cared about the sorcerers, no— he couldn't give less of a shit about them. The only reason he intervened was Satoru. His sorcerer hadn't come home for the last five nights, and Sukuna has had enough.
Without needing to lift a finger, Sukuna stepped out into the chaos, and every curse—no matter the grade— scattered like cockroaches when the light hit. They fled back into their shadows, terrified of the raw power he exuded. Sukuna wasn’t even there to fight, but his presence alone was enough to send shockwaves through the curse world.
Soon after, it became clear to everyone that Sukuna was calling the shots. Not officially, of course— there was no ceremony, no grand declaration. But with the higher-ups gone and the curses too afraid to move, a silent agreement formed. Ryomen Sukuna was in charge now, whether the sorcerers liked it or not. As for Sukuna, he was too perceptive to not notice that shift. He didn't particularly like the idea of dealing with the jujutsu sorcerers more than he'd like– which was none at all.
But he stayed silent, and didn't reject the idea which was all the incentive Satoru was going to get. He knew it wasn't out of any newfound sense of responsibility; he still didn’t give a shit about the sorcerers or their pathetic society.
He was only doing this for Satoru.
But that didn’t mean the King of Curses had gone soft on him. Sukuna was still as insufferable as ever, lording his power over anyone who dared question him. And Satoru, for his part, wasn’t about to be overshadowed. No way. The two of them were a constant battle of ego and dominance, neither willing to back down even for a moment, only this time, it will end in a steamy sex or Satoru stuffing Sukuna's mouth with his cock.
Yet, the unspoken truth hung in the air: Sukuna was doing it all for Satoru, and Satoru knew it. But they'd never admit it.
The Kyoto school was buzzing these days, none of the students or teachers were used to his much traffic in the school. Students and faculty from Tokyo and Kyoto were scattered around the common room. It was a chaotic blend of voices— some tense, others weary. The students, teachers, and other Jujutsu sorcerers were seated in a loose circle, attempting to discuss how to rebuild the fractured society now that the higher-ups were gone.
It should’ve been a serious and solemn moment, but with Satoru Gojo in the room, it was a luxury.
Satoru had arrived fashionably late, as expected, sauntering in with an unapologetic grin, obnoxiously sucking on a lollipop like he owned the place (which, in many ways, he did). Now, sprawled on the double-seater couch at the center of the room, legs thrown up onto the coffee table, he looks utterly disinterested. His blindfold-covered eyes tilt lazily toward the ceiling as he yaps, cutting off everyone else’s conversations.
“Honestly, I don’t know why you all insist on having these boring meetings when I’m around,” Satoru drawls, waving a hand dramatically. “Just ask me, ‘Oh Great Gojo-sama, what’s the solution to our problems?’ and I’ll bless you with my genius. Easy peasy!”
Utahime pinches the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply. “Gojo, if you don’t shut up, I swear to—”
“—swear to what?” Satoru interjects, grinning wide. “What are you gonna do, Utahime? Cry about it? Oh wait— you always do!”
“Why you little—” Utahime stood abruptly, but Nanami places a calming hand on her shoulder, though his own jaw was clenched.
“Gojo, please,” Nanami says in a low, clipped tone as he fixes his glasses, "Let us finish the discussion.”
Satoru shrugs, unbothered. “Fine, fine. But seriously, Nanami, lighten up! All that frown is gonna give you is wrinkles.” He punctuates the statement by leaning his head back over the couch, grinning upside-down at Nanami.
While everyone else tries their best to stay on topic, Sukuna stands behind Satoru's couch, leaning lazily against it. Giving his back to the meeting happening in the room, his crimson eyes are focused elsewhere, completely uninterested in everything. His arms are crossed over his chest, and the sharp angles of his body seem to radiate cold disdain. Towering, statuesque, and– in Satoru's humble opinion that he will take to his grave– terrifyingly handsome, his eyes flick away from the room, his disinterest palpable. He wasn’t here by choice— Satoru had dragged him along, coaxing with using his hands and mouth to the best of his abilities.
“Shut up,” Sukuna mutters, his voice low and laced with boredom, meant only for the sorcerer's ears.
Satoru, of course, ignores him. “And another thing!” he continues, voice pitched with mock enthusiasm. “Why are we even wasting time talking about this? Let’s be honest, I’ll just fix everything like I always do, and the rest of you can go on your little coffee breaks or whatever it is you do all day.”
There was a lot of muttering from Utahime, Principal Yaga was rubbing his temples and a low giggle– most probably from Yuji. Nanami only pauses for a brief moment before he continues speaking.
“Quiet, Satoru,” Sukuna says again, his voice flat and bored, his gaze finally flickering down toward the sorcerer. “Let them speak.” Not that Sukuna is interested to hear the other sorcerers speak, God forbid, he only wants to get over with this meeting already.
Gojo snorts, waving him off with a dismissive hand. “Yeah?" His high piched voice lowers as he adresses Sukuna, following the curse's lead and speaking low enough to keep the conversation amongst the two of them. "What if I don't? You'll do what—”
Before he could finish, Sukuna’s large hand clamps down over his mouth, silencing him mid-sentence. The room keeps buzzing, no one noticing the exchange– or ignoring it. The two pairs of Sukuna’s eyes glance down at him, sharp and cold, though the slight curl of his lips betrays his amusement.
Satoru tilts his head back against the couch to glare up at him, one hand already lifting his blindfold to reveal a single piercing blue eye. His gaze burns with indignation, narrowed eye glaring up Sukuna through the pretty snowy lashes.
“You were saying?” Sukuna drawls, voice dripping with mockery. The corners of his lips curl slightly, an infuriatingly attractive smirk that only makes Satoru's glare intensify.
Without warning, Satoru bites down on Sukuna’s hand, hard and mean. The curse barely flinches, although his grip loosens for a fraction of second and Satoru takes the moment to curse at him, “You fucking bastar—”
“Shush,” Sukuna interrupts, clamping his hand back down over the sorcerer's mouth. Satoru only gets to have the briefest glimpse of it, but he absolutely feels it when a second mouth– manifested on Sukuna’s palm– shoves its tongue past Satoru's lips in one swift, intimate motion.
The sorcerer freezes, his visible eye widens briefly before rolling back, a soft noise of surprise muffles against Sukuna’s palm. His cheeks and ears flush red as heat instantly courses through his body. His long, pale fingers instinctively fly up to grip Sukuna’s wrist, trembling slightly as the curse’s tongue teases mercilessly inside. It invades his mouth, flicking his own tongue out of the way to lick at every corner as if trying to find something deep within him.
The room continues buzzing around them, oblivious to wanton display before them.
Sukuna’s smirk only deepens as he slowly withdraws his hand, dragging two dark painted fingers lazily across Satoru's wet, glistening lips.
Satoru sits up abruptly, he pulls his blindfold back in its place before crossing his arms and burying his face in the high collar of his uniform jacket. His body seems to shrink into himself, shoulders hunched and demeanor screaming indignation.
“Gojo-sensei, what do you think about—” Yuji’s soft voice cuts through the room, and all eyes turned toward the couch.
“Yeah, sounds good,” Gojo mumbles before letting the boy finish, his voice muffled behind his collar, refusing to look at anyone.
Yuji blinks, confused but not exactly surprised. “Uh… Oh. Okay? Okay then…” He scratches his head, glancing at Megumi and Nobara, who are both glaring down at the table, ears pink.
“Seriously, he didn’t even listen,” Yuji mutters, “But alright…”
Sukuna, calmly resumes leaning against the couch, this time facing the room, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.
Megumi clears his throat awkwardly, while Nobara shoots a brief, knowing look at Sukuna, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm not sure if I'm diagusted or impressed by the absolute shamelessness." She mutters.
Her and Megumi being the only two unfortunate enough to be sitting right across from Satoru.
"They made out on live broadcast for the whole Jujutsu society, shameless is an understatement," Megumi clips back, voice low in a whisper. He shakes his head, looking disappointed but not surprised.
Across them, Satoru keeps his face hidden, especially when Sukuna casually puts a hand on his shoulder while his finger absently teases the edge of his collar. The drak painted, clipped nail– (Satoru clips them regularly for Sukuna because ain't no way those monstrous weapons are going anywhere near him) grazes his skin every now and then and Satoru bites back his words– only because he does not want to have a tongue shoved down his throat in front of the whole school once again.
"Sensei, we should absolutely arrange an annual sports gala," Yuji's adresses him again, a couple of other voices join him. Adding further to the discussion.
"Yeah, sure." Satoru replies shortly before clearing his throat as he realizes how hoarse his voice sounds.
"You don't look so good," Yuji turns his head around, getting a good look at Satoru's flushed face "Are you okay, sensei?" he comments in concern. The poor oblivious soul.
"Yeah. Probably under the weather," Satoru attempts to flash a smile. But familiar warm fingers slip inside the back of his collar. A palm lays flat on his nape before a wet tongue laps on his skin there. Satoru hides the shudder of his body as an attempt to shift and get comfortable on the couch.
"Doesn't Infinity protect you against that?" Yuji– that pure soul asks, genuinely interested to know if Satoru can get sick from the weather.
"Atmosphere. I meant... the atmosphere," Satoru gestures around the room. Saying whatever without making much sense as the mouth at his nape clamps down to suck on his skin. His eyes roll back behind his blindfold but otherwise he maintains his composure quite impressively.
"Yeah? Want me to do something about it?" Sukuna speaks from behind him, not bothering to keep his voice lower this time. His fingers massage Satoru's nape, apparently in a soothing way but his second fucking mouth digs its teeth into his skin.
Satoru shifts, tilting his head in an attempt to lose the grip but Sukuna's hand doesn't budge. "Or you can discuss with Yuji and plan to arrange a sports gala for the two schools," Satoru manages to grin, feigning indifference despite his fingers curling by his sides and gripping his own jacket tightly.
Sukuna's eyes does not leave his face even when Satoru's own are covered behind the dark blindfold. The curse's lips curl up at the edges in that infuriating attractive way. "I'll pass," his teeth release the sorcerer's skin, "Not tempting enough." The tongue on his palm licks at Satoru's nape, as if to drive the point home.
By the time the meeting comes to an arguably inconclusive end, everyone has scattered around the place. And while some have left for lunch or refreshments, some are still seated. Namely, Satoru and Sukuna.
The sorcerer has dragged the curse to sit beside him on the couch, his limbs almost coiled around Sukuna's body as they talk amongst themselves. On a single glance it may look that Sukuna is a victim here but really, on closer inspection it's very apparent that he would rather not be anywhere but here.
Yuji, who had been awkwardly watching the exchange with the rest of the students, turns to Megumi, whispering, "Are we allowed to leave?"
Megumi sighs deeply, looking anywhere but at the still borderline indecent display between their teacher and and the so-called King of Curses. "Bear with it," he replies to Yuji quietly.
The three of them have been assigned a mission under Satoru's supervision. And while Ijichi is out there getting things ready for their short travel to Otsu– they are stuck here with Gojo to wait.
"They make an odd pair," Nobara adds to the conversation, unlike the other two, she is blatantly staring at the two sorcerers, eyes narrowed in scrutiny.
"No, they are two odd individuals who make a very reasonable pair," Yuji replies while shaking his head resolutely. "Sukuna and sensei make sense, I don't know how to tell you that."
"You're biased because you absolutely idolize Gojo sensei," Nobara scoffs lightly, still looking at the pair who are no sitting beside each other on the couch, only the back of their heads visible now.
"And? What's there to not idolize about him?" Yuji comes to stand between Nobara's sight of the couple. His eyes narrowed and voice petulant, "He is the coolest and strongest."
Nobara sighs and leans against the wall, "Man, if you have some kind of crush on him, forget it. You will be roasted on a bonfire or your organs will be served with seasoning," she leans in, as if whispering a secret, "I've heard Uraume used to cook humans for Sukuna, that's how they bonded."
Yuji pulls away, repulsed and looking disgusted, "Kugisaki, that's gross!"
"That you have a crush on sensei or that Sukuna ate humans with seasoning?" Megumi's soft, bored voice comes from across them.
"You and Kugisaki, that's what's gross!" Yuji turns away from them, before storming off to where Todo and Miwa are standing, conversing quietly among themselves.
"His ears are all red," Nobara whispers to Megumi, "God, he does have a crush on Gojo sensei," her body shudders with a look of horror on her face.
Megumi ignores her comment, his eyes briefly glancing at Yuji. A moment passes with a quiet look of longing in his eyes before he looks away like it never happened.
❧
When Satoru returns to the penthouse he now calls home, the place is suspiciously quiet, though Sukuna’s cursed energy lingers thickly in the air. Kicking off his shoes, he tugs up the sleeves of his jacket and walks further inside. The sight that greets him is Ryomen Sukuna sprawled on the couch, legs crossed, arms folded, and peacefully asleep.
A rare sight indeed.
Satoru’s lips curl up in amusement as he steps closer silently, Infinity making his movements soundless. Sukuna with his guard down is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Naturally, Satoru pulls out his phone to snap multiple pictures, zooming in on the curse’s relaxed expression and even angling for a few aesthetic shots.
Just as he lowers his phone after the last picture and looks up, two pairs of crimson eyes are staring at him lazily.
“Aw, come on,” Satoru groans, tucking his phone away. “I was sneaky! Why’d you wake up?”
“If you think you can sneak up on me, sorcerer, you’re delusional,” Sukuna remarks dryly, stretching his neck with an audible crack. His gaze sharpens. “Turn off your Infinity.”
Satoru hums thoughtfully, leaning back into the couch with one arm draped casually over the backrest. “Hmm, I could be persuaded,” he replies, tilting his head in mock consideration.
They both know the truth— Sukuna has long adapted to Infinity and can bypass it with ease. But Satoru has recently discovered that despite his ability to overcome the technique, Sukuna absolutely despises when Satoru carelessly leaves it activated around him. The thing is, Satoru finds that particular quirk annoyingly attractive.
Like Yuji once said, they’re two odd individuals who somehow make perfect sense together. “A couple of freaks,” Nobara had snorted after witnessing one of their interactions.
“You have until the count of three,” Sukuna warns, his tone as calm as ever. He begins the count without hesitation, dark eyes boring into Satoru.
The sorcerer opens his mouth to complain, but before he can get a single word out, the countdown ends—and the sound of a deafening crash booms through the penthouse. Satoru spins around, leaning over the back of the couch. Through the massive glass wall, he sees the building across the street engulfed in flames. Its windows are shattered, and faint screams echo in the distance.
“Are you serious?” Satoru yanks his blindfold down, glaring at Sukuna as his Infinity flickers off instinctively. “You asshole. Just asking politely would’ve worked!” he stares outside the glass wall again, "Who's gonna explain this now?"
“Explain to who?” Sukuna retorts, unbothered. He reaches out, grabs the back of Satoru’s neck, and pulls him in for a rough kiss. Satoru instinctively kisses back, but it isn’t long before he’s grumbling against Sukuna’s mouth, weakly pushing at the curse’s chest.
“We had a deal,” Satoru huffs as he pulls away, jabbing a finger at Sukuna’s chest. “No killing innocent people, you promised.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Sukuna replies smoothly, his fingers threading through Satoru’s white locks to keep him firmly in place. “And you’ll be the one dead if you so much as think about stepping outside this week.”
Satoru sighs but lets his Six Eyes focus. Sure enough, there are no fatalities in the building. It’s late, the office was closed, and the fire has been strangely… contained. No doubt Sukuna’s doing.
“That’s one passive-aggressive way to say you missed me,” Satoru mutters, relaxing slightly. Sure, it’s still a major financial loss for someone, but he knows compromises are part of the deal when you’re living with the Ryomen Sukuna.
The curse doesn’t respond. Instead, he quietly tugs at Satoru’s jacket zipper, sliding it off his shoulders before tossing it carelessly aside. His gaze locks on Satoru, sharp and unwavering.
“I forbid you from taking missions outside the city from now on,” Sukuna declares, his voice firm and unyielding. “No, actuallay, you’re done with missions altogether. Let those dependent, incompetent fuckers figure things out themselves.”
Satoru raises an eyebrow, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Wow. Possessive much?” He leans back, making himself comfortable against the couch. “And what makes you think I'll take orders from you?”
“You will,” Sukuna says simply, his tone dark. His hand slides up to cup the back of Satoru’s neck, thumb brushing lightly over the sorcerer’s pulse point. “Because you’re mine. I won’t have you running around, leaving yourself exposed for some low-level scum to ambush.”
Satoru clicks his tongue. “As if anyone could take me down. You’re forgetting who you’re talking to here.”
“I know exactly who I’m talking to,” Sukuna growls, leaning in until their faces are inches apart. “Satoru, I don’t share.”
Satoru sighs dramatically but doesn’t move away. Instead, he tilts his head, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “You know, for someone so scary, you’re kind of cute when you’re all territorial like this.”
Sukuna’s eye twitches, but he doesn’t respond to the jab. Instead, he shifts, pressing Satoru down into the couch until the sorcerer has no choice but to recline beneath him.
“You’re not leaving,” Sukuna says, his tone final. “Not tonight. Not next week. Not until I say so.”
Satoru stares up at him, blue eyes glinting mischievously even as his cheeks flush faintly. “Bossy,” he murmurs, though there’s no real protest in his voice. “But fine. If it keeps you from setting another building on fire, I’ll behave.”
“Good,” Sukuna says, a smirk curling his lips as he leans down to capture Satoru’s mouth again. “Because I’m not done with you yet, sorcerer.”
Satoru let's out a hum against Sukuna's mouth as their lips press together again. The kiss deepens quickly, Sukuna's tongue sweeping inside to claim every inch and Satoru, as always, gives in shamelessly. His fingers clutch at Sukuna's bare shoulder, pulling him close until there's barely any space between them.
When Sukuna pulls away slightly, it is only so his lips drag lower, leaving wet, sloppy kisses on Satoru's jawline before reaching his throat. There he bites down, hard enough to wrench a loud gasp from the sorcerer. Satoru tilts his head instinctively, his fingers burying into Sukuna's hair, granting full acess as the curse starts sucking his skin, intent on leaving his marks.
"Old habits die hard, huh?" Satoru teases, lips curling up as he softly scratches Sukuna's scalp with his trimmed nails. "You still love chewing me up like a wild dog."
Sukuna chuckles against his throat, his breath hot over the fresh mark he's just left. His teeth graze a few inches lower, right at the dip of Satoru's throat before he sucks there, leaving yet another bruise blooming against the sorcerer's soft skin. "You look better with these bruises over your stupidly pale skin."
Satoru snorts, though it's half-hearted. His head falls against the couch, baring more of his neck down to his pretty collarbones. "You're so dramatic, as if the world doesn't already know that we're fucking."
Sukuna face casts a dark shadow over his face as the curse shifts up, looming directly above him. "You think this is all what? Sex?" His eyes narrow into slits.
And, oh.
Satoru knows that tone, knows exactly what how Sukuna's mind works. The curse has always been ruthlessly literal, parsing words like unbreakable vows. Centuries of power have made him blunt, unwavering in his interpretations. And Satoru? He loves exploiting it.
So he grins wide, "Well, yeah. The fucking part's obvious. But of course, they also know we live together," Now, Satoru is a fucking menace and he knows it. He traces a finger down Sukuna's chest, "And ah– the binding vow, I'm pretty sure there's rumors about that too." Deliberately, he leaves out us. Leaves out more.
And the reaction is instant, Sukuna's red eyes shift to a darker shade, his cursed energy crackling like a live wire. And God, it's so fucking hot.
"Is that all?" Sukuna pushes, his fingers slowly threading into Satoru's snowy locks.
The sorcerer, being the little brat he is, tilts his head, feigning obliviousness. "We live together, we fuck and we've made a binding vow. That's all, no?"
"Oh, so that's how you want to play tonight?" Sukuna scoffs, tugging on his hair. Yes, Sukuna, ancient and inscrutable, sometimes falters over the cadence of Satoru’s words— the playful turns of phrase, the modern lilt of his speech— a language separated by centuries. Yet, even when the meaning eludes him, the intent never does. Like right now.
He knows when Satoru is playing with him. And he entertains the sorcerer because two can play.
Satoru smirks, "Zero clue what you're talking about."
Sukuna sits up with his hand in Satoru's hair, manhandling him into a sitting position as well. "I want you on your knees, right between my legs." He demands, releasing his white hair.
Satoru's smirk widens into a cheeky grin. He plays along easily, sliding off the couch and settles between Sukuna's legs, sitting on his knees. "We've developed that I'm pretty shameless, kneeling to suck your cock doesn't faze me," he rests his hands on Sukuna's knees, spreading his legs widely.
"You love acting like a horny little whore," Sukuna grabs his nape, pulling his head down onto his crotch. The imprint of his dick is obscenely clear on the loose sweatpants, seeing as he was going commando today.
Satoru bites his lips, already anticipating the heavy girth pulsing on his tongue, pushing deep down his throat. Damn, he really is all what Sukuna says he is. Slut and whatnot– shamelessly, proudly.
He rubs his mouth over the clothed erection before sucking on it through the soft fabric. His hands move in to caress the inside of Sukuna's thick, muscular thighs, letting out soft noises against it. The curse shows no reaction on the other hand, his hand grips Satoru's hair, guiding his movements lightly.
"Enough slobbering, strip and get on all fours," Sukuna pulls his head away, staring down at the sorcerer– at his dark blue eyes and flushed face.
Satoru has the wits to laugh through his hazy eyes and slicked mouth. "You sound so eager," he teases while pulling off his undershirt and tossing it aside. His fingers work deftly to undo his pants while his eyes stay on Sukuna.
The curse stands up, cupping Satoru's face his thumb swipes over the glossy, plush lips before pressing inside the mouth. "You're so pretty, it makes me want to cum over this face and drench your pretty fucking eyeslashes in that cum."
Satoru sucks on his thumb, eyes never leaving Sukuna's face even when the curse leans down closer. "And no matter how much I fuck you into submission, this slutty brat in you doesn't relent. It makes me want you ruin you so completely that there's no inch of you left without my trace on it."
Satoru makes a show of rolling his eyes back and sucking lewdly on his thumb before taking it out with a wet pop sound.
"Such a tsundere," he takes the free moment to kick off his pants and underwear, now completely naked. "You're lucky I'm insane enough to keep up with you."
Sukuna huffs out a small laugh and walks around Satoru. The sorcerer reists the urge to turn around and watch. He hears shuffling, then the leather of the couch behind him making a sound. He only turns his head when Sukuna calls out his name again.
"Crawl around that table and come here, Satoru." Sukuna is supporting that infuriatingly smirk. Sitting in the middle of the couch, his hard cock pulled out of his pants and resting proudly on his toned abs.
There's a large round table between them. Satoru places his hands on it, grinning at the curse. "Oh, now we're talking," he comments, just to be a little shit. He loves when Sukuna pushes his boundaries so boldly. Although they hardly have soft vanilla sex but it's not often that Sukuna entertains such elaborated foreplays either.
And when he does, Satoru knows he's in for a long night of debauchery. And God, does he love it.
He keeps his eyes on Sukuna as he shamelessly gets on his hands and knees and crawls as he is asked to. One would think the almighty, full of himself Gojo Satoru would have some shame– no. None at all. Not when he is so turned on and the man of wet dreams is right there.
Sukuna's eyes are dark, swimming with delight at the compliance.
Satoru keeps his gaze locked on Sukuna as he moves, the smooth glide of his body across the floor both shameless and deliberate. His soft hair bounce slightly with each movement, and there’s a teasing smirk playing on his lips— one that Sukuna wants to wipe right off his face.
When he finally reaches the other side of the table, Sukuna’s large hand cups his chin, tilting his face up. Their eyes meet, red and blue locked in a silent battle of control.
"You’re awfully obedient tonight," Sukuna muses, rubbing his thumb over Satoru’s lower lip. "Not even running that smart mouth of yours. What’s the catch?"
Satoru tilts his head, his smirk widening. "Maybe I just want to see how far you’ll go." His voice is light, teasing, but there’s an unmistakable challenge laced underneath.
Sukuna chuckles, his grip tightening. "Oh, you’ll see."
He yanks Satoru up effortlessly, pulling him onto his lap. The sorcerer lands with a huff, hands bracing against Sukuna’s broad chest. His legs instinctively spread over the curse’s thick thighs, his ass perched right on top of the hard, heavy girth.
Sukuna’s hands settle on his waist, thumbs pressing into his skin with deliberate pressure. He leans in, his breath warm against Satoru’s ear. "You act like you’re in control, but we both know the truth, don’t we?"
Satoru exhales a slow breath, his fingers curling slightly against Sukuna’s skin. "I dunno," he murmurs, tilting his head just enough that their lips are a breath apart, he starts to move his hips in slow circles, bare skin against bare skin. "You keep saying that, but I’m the one sitting on top of you."
Sukuna laughs, a deep rumble in his chest. "Oh, pretty boy," he drawls, his grip tightening before he flips them with ease.
Satoru barely has time to react before his back hits the couch, Sukuna looming over him with that smug, knowing grin. "Now, let’s see who’s really in charge here," the curse purrs, his lips ghosting over Satoru’s throat before sinking in for a sharp bite.
Satoru’s makes a soft content noise, fingers digging into Sukuna’s shoulders as the curse presses him further into the cushions. "Tch— always so aggressive," he mutters, but the way his head tilts, offering more of his neck, betrays him.
Sukuna smirks against his skin. Their bodies mold together, heat pooling between them as Sukuna’s hands roam lower, pressing Satoru further into the couch beneath them. Every touch, every movement is slow, teasing. His hand reaches between Satoru's asscheeks, fingers circling his rim and spreading the lubricant there.
Satoru’s hums softly as Sukuna’s lips move lower, tracing the marks already forming on his skin. He lifts his head slightly, peering down at the curse through half-lidded eyes. "You came off so strong earlier, i didn't expect such foreplay."
Sukuna grins against Satoru’s collarbone, sharp teeth grazing over the flushed skin before biting down lightly. "You never know when to keep quiet," he murmurs, voice thick with amusement.
He doesn’t wait for a response. His fingers slide lower, slick and knowing, pressing against the heat waiting for him. A breathless chuckle escapes Satoru’s lips. His fingers tangle into Sukuna’s hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. It’s strangely soft, the way he holds him— his touch firm but not rough, possessive but not demanding. There’s something domestic about it, something unspoken.
They fight. They push and pull. They argue until their voices are hoarse, until one of them storms off, only to come back minutes later as if nothing happened. They taunt each other, bite at each other’s throats, both unwilling to yield— but it never changes the way they find themselves like this, tangled together, drawn back to each other by something neither of them can name.
It’s easy to get nasty with Sukuna. To let things get filthy, to 'drop to his knees and crawl' kinda kinky. To 'open his mouth and let Sukuna spit inside' kind of kinky. The insults, the degrading words, the rough hands that leave bruises in their wake— it’s effortless.
But just as easily, Satoru finds himself throwing his tired body against Sukuna’s, burrowing into his warmth without a second thought. He clings, curling up against his side, his face pressed against the solid stretch of Sukuna’s chest. He watches Sukuna try to cook dinner, watches him fumble with simple tasks, cursing under his breath when he burns the rice again. Satoru laughs, teasing him mercilessly, but stays close, lingering by the counter as Sukuna scowls.
It’s the late-night cravings too. The moments when he wakes up hungry, when he tugs a grumbling Sukuna out of bed and drags him to the kitchen, insisting on something ridiculously sweet. Sukuna always complains, always calls him a spoiled brat— but he never refuses. He sits there, watching Satoru eat, shaking his head at how much sugar the sorcerer consumes.
And Satoru— he talks. He complains. He whines about his students, about the work, about how unfair the world is. He vents, unfiltered, unrestrained, pouring everything out in a way he hasn’t done in years. Sukuna listens. Sometimes he mocks him, sometimes he scoffs, but he listens. And that’s enough.
Satoru has always given too much. Protection, guidance, power— he has never known how to hold back. He loves recklessly, fiercely, but he never lets anyone see the depth of it. He hides it behind arrogance, behind that insufferable grin, because it’s easier that way. He was ready to die for his students, ready to sacrifice himself without hesitation. And even then, he acted like it was nothing.
But ever since that day— the day he made the binding vow with Sukuna— Satoru has allowed himself to breathe. To be selfish. To take without hesitation.
And Ryomen Sukuna— unrelenting, ruthless, untouchable— has let him. Sukuna has made himself wholly available, open in a way that no one else has ever been for Satoru. Maybe he always would have, if Satoru had just asked.
So it is always easy to fall into step with Sukuna, to move with him instead of against him. Whether it’s shameless submission, bratty defiance, or quiet, unspoken intimacy, Satoru adapts with ease. He effortlessly matches Sukuna’s pace, finds comfort in his presence, even when it sometimes comes in the form of sharp words and rough hands.
Tonight, it’s a mixture of both— pleasure and familiarity, hard and rough.
Sukuna watches him beneath heavy lids, fingers still deep inside him, moving just enough to keep Satoru on edge. He looks pleased, like he has all the time in the world, like he’s in no rush to take him apart.
"You're quiet," Sukuna murmurs, thumb dragging over Satoru’s perineum.
Satoru exhales shakily, lifting his upper body by leaning on his elbows. "I'm thinking that you need to spice things up to keep me interested in this sex relationship."
Sukuna smirks, leaning in until their lips almost brush. "Brat," he chuckles, a dark and amused sound.
Satoru hums, his legs tightening around Sukuna’s waist. His fingers slide over the ridges of his toned stomach, tracing each one, nails pressing just enough to make Sukuna’s breath hitch. He pulls his fingers out slowly, watching the way Satoru shudders at the loss. Then, without warning, he flips Satoru onto his stomach, pressing him down into the couch. Satoru laughs breathlessly, his fingers curling into the cushions as Sukuna’s weight settles over him.
"Better?" Sukuna asks, voice a low growl against his ear.
Satoru turns his head, grinning up at him. "Much."
With his large hands kneading the flesh of Satoru's ass, Sukuna leans down and bites the back of his shoulder. He grinds his hips, his hard length rubbing along the dip of Satoru's spine. The sorcerer whines, wiggling his own hips under him– probably to get some friction himself– but Sukuna grabs his waist and presses him more firmly until there is no room to move.
He nuzzles into Satoru's neck, rubbing his cock more incessantly on his back. Yes, like Satoru said, he did come off strong. Honestly, he wanted to mess the sorcerer up, rough, hard, wild. But over the months Sukuna has learned that there's something about Satoru Gojo that unravles him.
Not in the way of weakness, no– Sukuna does not bend, does not break– but in the way of hunger. A gnawing insatiable thing that coils in his gut, licks up his spine, makes his teeth ache with the need to bite, to claim, to devour.
Satoru gives too much, yes, but Sukuna takes too much. And he wants everything.
Every breath, every sigh, every sharp laugh and bitten-off moan. He wants the defiance, the submission, the way Satoru's body aches under his hands like a bowstring pulled taut. He wants the trust that Satoru doesn't even realize he's offering so recklessly at times– the way he lets Sukuna see him like this, bare and breathless, stripped of his usual bravado, shameless.
He wants all of him.
Sukuna drags his teeth down Satoru's spine, shifting back, kneading the flesh of his pale, plush ass with a possessiveness that borders on violent. He could fuck him like this– flip him over, shove into him, take him hard and fast until Satoru's voice cracks from screaming. That is Sukuna's favorite sound recently.
But that's not what he wants right now.
No, right now, he wants to taste.
How dare Satoru label Sukuna's madness and obsession as just sex? They fuck, yes, a lot. But they both know that was not what had drove Sukuna to the edge where he was ready to fuck up the city– probably the world for him.
He's had Satoru's body– countless times now. But it's not just sex that gives him elation. It's the way Satoru's hips jerk up against him, his nails rake down Sukuna's back like he's trying to carve his way inside the curse. The way he begs, repeats, sings Sukuna's name like a prayer. It's the way he finds Sukuna whenever he's upset, sad, happy, annoyed, horny– it's always Sukuna he's seeking.
Sukuna doesn't know what's this feeling is– this all consuming thing. But it demands him to pry open the sorcerer's ribs, reach between his ribs and pull out his heart. He wants that heart beating right beside his, his.
The thought is violent, reoccurring, fleeting. And like every other time, it passes.
He grips Satoru's thighs, thumbs pressing into the inner side and spreads him open. Satoru moans, muffled into the cushion. "Suku–"
The name dissolves into a soft gasp as Sukuna leans in and drags his tongue over the blushing, puckered hole– slow and filthy.
Satoru jerks, his hips twitching subconsciously but Sukuna holds him firmly, pushing his tongue past the eager rim of muscles. He licks into him with with a deliberate, obscene thoroughness. His mouth sucks around the rim, teeth gently nip just to hear the sorcerer whine loudly.
"Fuck," Satoru's voice is muffled but Sukuna can hear how shaky it is. "You– ah, you're such a fucking animal–"
Sukuna hums against him, lips curling up, he chuckles. The vibration wringing another sound from Satoru that sounds nothing less of a whimper. He could honestly stay here forever, drowning in the heat of Satoru's body, the way it yields so perfectly to his mouth.
But he has other plans.
With a final, lingering lick, Sukuna pulls back. Flipping onto his back, he drags the sorcerer with him. Satoru barely has time to protest before Sukuna manhandles him up, hands gripping his hips and pulls him down onto his face.
Satoru chokes out a laugh, the sound dissolving into a moan. His hands fly to grip Sukuna's thighs for balance. "You're insatiable–"
Sukuna growls, gripping his ass and yanking him closer. Satoru's next words die in a strangled moan as Sukuna licks into his again, deeper this time, tongue pressing incessantly against his rim. He squirms, thighs trembling and Sukuna only tightens his hold, fingers digging into the flesh of Satoru's ass.
"Shit–" Satoru squeezes his thighs, blunt nails leaving crescent marks into the skin.
Sukuna groans, the sound muffled against Satoru skin. He loves this, how the sorcerer falls apart above him, the way his body tenses, the way his voice cracks around Sukuna's name. He loves to have the power to make Satoru tremble in his arms.
He wants more.
Sukuna pulls back to bite the inside of Satoru's thigh, sudden enough to make him yelp. "Ride my face properly," he orders, voice rough, "Move."
Satoru hums above him, he doesn't hesitate, always the shameless that Sukuna loves about him. He grinds down, rolling his hips in slow, filthy circles, letting Sukuna's tongue fuck into him with at every pass.
Sukuna groans under him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Just like that," he mutters taking a moment to adjust his head, tilting it to find a better angle. His tongue slips past the rim of muscles and he hears the moan Satoru lets out, only encouraging him further.
Satoru sits up straighter, hands now bracing on Sukuna's chest. He squeezes his pecs, pressing his palm down on the erect nipples. "God, this is so good. I'm gonna find every excuse to do this again," he whispers, eyes closed and head tilted back.
Sukuna slaps his ass in response before pulling his tongue and thrusting back inside. Satoru whines, fingers twisting around the curse's nipples. "I'm gonna ride your dick so good for this," he mutters, moving his hips back.
The tongue slips out of him and he takes the chance to practically rub himself all over Sukuna's face, his own cock positively leaking on Sukuna's chest.
He lays down over Sukuna's body to reach for his flushed cock, stroking it lazily. He hears the curse grunt, probably not appreciating the teasing. It makes Satoru chuckle, the grumpy little sound even when his face is smothered under Satoru's ass.
He lifts his hips up until his cock grazes Sukuna's chin and he can see Sukuna's face, glistening and flushed. He squeezes the base of Sukuna's length, biting his lips. That sight alone can make him cum. His azure eyes darken as he moves, rubbing his cock over Sukuna's skin once more.
"Suck it for me, Sukuna," he pleads when Sukuna makes no move to do it himself. "Please."
Keeping his eyes on Satoru, Sukuna holds the hard length. The sorcerer gasps, dissolving into whimper as he feels the mouth manifested on Sukuna's palm lick him. "You wanna ride me?"
Satoru nods without missing a beat, "Should I take both your dicks today?" He mumbles, biting his lips, hips moving to fuck Sukuna's fist.
"Tempting," Sukuna darts out his tongue to lick his testicles, keeping his eyes on the sight of his other mouth sucking Satoru.
Satoru drops his head over his stomach, stroking him more urgently now. "It might tear but nothing my RCT couldn't heal," he sounds a little breathless as the pair of mouths lick and suck his groin.
"Mhm, you are a little pain slut," Sukuna smirks against him, taking one of the testicles into his mouths. Satoru's toes curl, his mouth presses onto Sukuna's taut stomach to muffle his moans.
"But do you deserve them? I don't thing a brat like you deserves to cum at all tonight," Sukuna says pulling his mouth away while letting his palm still lick his cock. Pure torture.
Satoru groans, hitting his thigh, "Don't play with me. I'm so horny right now I could fuck almost anything."
"I don't think so," Sukuna squeezes his cock. The mouth there vanishes before he releases it from his grip and all stimulation stops.
Satoru whines louder this time. He sits up and then he is turning around, straddling Sukuna's torso, he hovers above him. "What do you want me to say?" His eyebrows furrow, attempting to glare at the other man.
"I don't know. Since we're in it for sex only, i don't feel like fucking you tonight."
Satoru blinks, then groans while his hands threads into Sukuna's hair. "I was joking, you dinosaur. Fuck, you're so petty."
"I don't appreciate such jokes."
"Sure, unc. You're like, what? A few thousands years old? Of course, your humour is long dead." The sorcerer mutters, trying to be subtle as he moves his hips, attempting to get some friction.
"What did you just call me," Sukuna grabs his ass, not really sounding offended but he could tumble over there anytime, Satoru could tell.
It makes his lips curl up and he presses them down against Sukuna's cheek. "Nothing. You're so Alpha Sigma, King of curses." He kisses his cheek.
Sukuna slaps his ass, hard. "Satoru," there's a hint of warning in his voice now and the sorcerer sighs, relenting.
"Fine, fine. I'm sorry, alright?" He pulls his head back to look at Sukuna, "I guess I'd call you my boyfriend now. Happy?"
Sukuna's hand trails up to stroke his tailbone, the movement lazy but possessive. "That doesn't sound adequate."
Satoru raises an eyebrow. "Okay? So does husband work for you, my lord?" He pushes his hair back as he sits up, grinning. "Or wait, is it too excessive?"
Sukuna doesn't reply as he grabs his hips and sits up himself. Their chests brush together before Sukuna's pulls him flush against him. It's not a thought he entertains but hearing Satoru say the words so easily reawakens that wild, territorial animal inside him.
"As long as you remember that you belong with me, I don't fucking care how it is labeled." He stands up, carrying Satoru with him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck. He carries them towards the bedroom.
"I'd call you wifey then," the sorcerer chirps, grinning down at him.
Sukuna puts him down on the bed and spreads his legs, settling between them. His hand strokes himself, lubing it up thoroughly. "You're so fucking insufferable." He leans in, elbow bracing against the pillow beside Satoru's head and kisses the man.
Satoru grabs his hair, kissing back, instantly using his tongue to lick inside Sukuna's mouth. He feels the head of his cock press against his rim before the familiar pressure intensifies and it slides inside him.
He groans against Sukuna's mouth, that first stretch is always a bitch. But Sukuna only kisses him harder, not letting him complain as he keeps going until he is burried to the hilt.
"Jesus, fuck." Satoru gasps as he catches his breath, but Sukuna starts to move right away, punching that breath right out of him.
He wraps his legs around Sukuna's hips, heels digging into the dip of his spine. "I should fuck you someday," he mutters, breaking into a gasp as Sukuna delivers a particularly deep thrust. "I'm definitely going to top you one of these days." He groans, his back arching up as Sukuna sucks on his nipple.
"You're so funny," the curse mumbles against his skin, lips pulled up in a smirk.
Satoru opens his eyes, trying to glare down at him but the pleasure probably overrides that expression. "Don't challenge me– ngh– it leads nowhere good. We– we both know," he moans despite himself as Sukuna nips on the sensitive nub.
"Mhm," the curse hums, "You're born to take dick, Satoru." He mutters and Satoru can hear the amusement in his voice. "What do you call it? Oh, a pretty little twink." He's slightly breathless but that's all.
Satoru on the other hand is gasping for breath as Sukuna hits his prostate with every stroke of his cock. "Fuck–" he curses loudly, "Fucking jerk," he scratches Sukuna's back, eyes watering from the hard, deliberate thrusts which are making him unable to articulate any thoughts.
Sukuna chuckles, nuzzling against his neck. The movement forces Satoru's legs back, bending him almost in half and the angle helps Sukuna reach deeper. He can hear his sorcerer gasp for breath, that's probably his favorite sound in the world.
"See? So fucking greedy. You're meant to lay down and take it," he's sucking on Satoru's skin, sounding rougher now.
"Shut up," Satoru grabs his hair, yanking his head up. His lips find Sukuna's ear and his nibbles on the shell. "I will fuck you on all fours–" his breath strutters in between the words. "Fuck– with my cum leaking out of your ass."
Sukuna groans loudly against him. He grabs Satoru's wrists, pinning them above his head in a rough, quick move. "Yeah? Would you cry and beg for a chance to do that?" He snaps his hips harder, setting his pace faster.
Satoru moans, his head tilts back, neck bared, eyes rolling behind the closed lids. "No way in fucking hell," the words are barely coherent but Sukuna hears them, attuned to every little sound. "Cocky fucking bastard."
Sukuna kisses the slope of his throat, his tongue laps at the skin all the way up to Satoru's chin, leaving a wet trail behind. "I'd probably let you. Just to take your dick's virginity." He smirks, licking the corner of Satoru's damp eyes.
Satoru opens his eyes when Sukuna pulls away and with little to no effort he's flipping them around. He rarely tries to overpower Sukuna in bed, always so easy and compliant to let the curse manhandle him– Sukuna is caught off guard as he does it now.
The curse chuckles as he finds himself pinned down. It's a pleasant reminder of Satoru's strength and Sukuna finds he does not hate it at all. He loves when the sorcerer fights back, he loves that Satoru is no dainty, fragile thing. He's an equal if not stronger. It makes his cock pulse inside the said man.
"In case you forgot who you were talking to," Satoru has his hands clasped into Sukuna's, pinned down beside his head. His eyes are a darker shade of blue, and white hair fall over his forehead in a ridiculously hot way. He's still perched on Sukuna's cock, sitting down on it.
Sukuna bites back a groan, maintaining his smirk. "Did I hit a nerve?" He does not relent, pushing more. "Or was it that spot inside you that turns you into a whimpering, crying mess?"
Satoru mirrors his smirk, slowly grinding his hips. His pale skin is flushed prettily. Nipples red from all the nibbling, marks blooming over his throat and collarbones. "Nah. I'm actually impressed at the audacity."
Sukuna snorts, laying still and letting the sorcerer do whatever he wants. "Of what? Calling you a twink?"
Satoru hums, slowly lifting his hips up and sliding down the length. "The audacity to think i haven't topped before."
He sees the change in Sukuna's expression, the pupils dilating further, the smirk slowly fading into a snarl. Bullseye. Satoru grins.
"Oh, what is it? Did I hit a nerve?" He parrots. Keeping Sukuna in place as the curse attempts to set himself free. "Why'd you think i was a virgin? Come on. Have you seen me? How can anyone resist." He rides Sukuna at a leisurely pace.
Sukuna slams his hips up into him, almost succeeding in freeing his hands but Satoru has the advantage of being on top. He keeps the man down and instead leans in to graze his lips against Sukuna's cheek. "God, you're so easy, Sukuna."
His head is yanked back, he doesn't expect the extra pair of hands at all. His eyes widen in surprise, mouth falling open in a shriek. The sound is instantly muffled by another hand. He looks at the new set of arms on Sukuna's body and the wide mouth at the middle of his stomach.
And Jesus fucking Christ.
Sukuna uses his now free hands to grab his hips. All four of his limbs keeping him in place. The sight of his true form is almost grotesque, the arms on his torso, the mouth on his stomach. But since Satoru has always known that he has more than a few screws loose in the head– it's no surprise that his cock twitches with interest instead, leaking precum.
"Who did you fuck before?" Sukuna's voice pulls him out of his thirsty thoughts.
He takes a moment to register the question and then exhales shakily when the hand covering his mouth his pulled away. "Fuck... Sukuna, what the fuck?" The hand in his hair tugs again and the sorcerer groans.
"Fucking hell, who else? You know i only had one ex," he replies, eyes straying back to the curse's torso.
Sukuna makes a sound almost like a growl. "He's fucking lucky that he's already dead."
That makes Satoru's head snap up, pointing a finger at Sukuna, "You– take that back!"
"You're defending another man while sitting on my dick?" Sukuna's eyes darken further.
"He's not– he's not some other man. Fuck," he rubs a hand down his face, getting defensive. "Don't go there, Sukuna. Let's not talk about him." He tries to pull his hips up, pull away from the curse but the second pair of hands roughly pull him back onto the cock that is still inside him.
"You started it," Sukuna glares at him, eyes sharp and almost appearing black.
Satoru realizes this will only lead them to places he'd rather not go. He takes a deep breath and pushes his hair off his forehead. "Alright. My bad," he raises his hands in surrender. "And now my dick is practically soft."
Sukuna scoffs, looking away. Then he looks down at Satoru's still– very much hard length– and grabs it with the hand that is free. "Don't look at me like I killed him."
Satoru groans loudly, "Sukuna, don't." He closes his eyes, he doesn't want to fight. Definitely not over Suguru.
He feels the curse shift before the large body under him sits up. One pair of arms wraps around his waist, stroking his back while the other pair cups his face. "Look at me, Satoru." Sukuna tilts his head up until their eyes meet. Then he's leaning in and kissing Satoru, sucking on his bottom lip before pulling away.
Satoru wraps his arms around Sukuna's neck, he rests his forehead against the side of Sukuna's face and just stays there for a while. He doesn't let his thoughts consume him and it's aided by the hands touching all over him. Too many hands honestly, almost unnerving.
He doesn't speak, nor does Sukuna and it's fine.
It's better.
"This angle is bad. I feel you in my fucking stomach," he mutters against Sukuna's cheek, playing with the short hair at the back of his head.
"Hm.. I don't see how that's bad," Sukuna replies, kissing the underside of his jaw.
Satoru's feels his lips curve up, he shifts, trying to adjust the position because fucking hell, he does feel like his guts are getting rearranged. "You've never fucked me in this form before. I've been missing out."
"Usually two hands are enough to handle you," Sukuna sucks on his neck.
Satoru closes his eyes, head tilting to a side. "Fuck me before my dick falls off. I'll cum soon."
"Mhm... It'd be a shame, really." Sukuna mutters against his skin and complies, slowly picking up a rhythm.
Satoru shivers as two pair of hands hold him flush against Sukuna's chest. It feels possessive, yes, and surprisingly protective. Sukuna has only held him this way once before, in his domain, the night Satoru cried in his chest.
He feels his heart beat a little louder, feeling the warmth of Sukuna's body seep into him. Sukuna is always warmer than him, but he feels particularly hot right now. Satoru clings to him, trying to drown the loud beating of his heart.
His eyes snap open shortly, however, as warmth envelopes his cock. He pulls back and stares down in surprise to see his cock buried inside the mouth on Sukuna's stomach.
The curse smirks seeing his reaction. "Consider it a test drive. Fuck into it, Satoru."
The moan Satoru let's out it filthy. He throws his head back, held in place by Sukuna– thankfully, as he slowly adjusts into to the feeling of so much stimulation. "Fuckfuckfuck– Sukuna–"
"Just like that. Move your hips." Sukuna leans back a little, bracing himself on his hands while the other two guide Satoru's hips.
The sorcerer finds purchase on his shoulders, moving back on forth, eyes transfixed on the sight of his cock fucking in and out of that mouth. It's hot, wet, just as expected. The sight might be a little disturbing for someone else but Satoru is practically combusting from how much it turns him on.
"Sukuna– fuck, i can't. Oh, God," his hands fist into Sukuna's hair. "Gon' cum, so close. Jesus."
Sukuna takes it as a cue to fuck him faster. His eyes unable to move from Satoru's face, he's gorgeous, it's common knowledge. But he looks so hot when he is drowning in pleasure. His thighs trembling on top of Sukuna, his desperation palpable. His moans are quiet, caught in his throat, along with his breath.
"Cum for me. Cum inside my mouth, on my cock," Sukuna angles his hips, hitting his prostate with precision.
Satoru pulls on his hair, movements frenzied as he fucks back and forth– his words are barely coherent, just a series of curses mixed with cries of Sukuna's name.
Sukuna feels heat coil into his stomach just from the sight alone. He feels Satoru's body go rigid and his voice break into a cry. And before the sorcerer can even warn, his cock is spilling cum inside the mouth, body positively trembling against Sukuna.
"Fuck," Sukuna pushes him back, flat on the mattress. He kisses Satoru as his hips snap against him, close, so close. Satoru clenches around him, whining against his lips. "You can take it, baby. I'm close," Sukuna groans, thrusts getting sloppy.
He hears Satoru mutter words, urging him to cum. Urging him to fill him up. A couple of more strokes and he stills, releasing deep inside the sorcerer.
Satoru is spent under him, loose limbs and eyes closed by the time Sukuna pulls back to stare at him. He releases Satoru's cock, the extra mouth and arms disappearing. Satoru makes a low sound as Sukuna then pulls his cock out and some of his cum dribbles out of the sorcerer's hole.
"I'm so hungry right now," it's the first thing Satoru says after a comfortable silence where Sukuna just lays beside him and lets him curl into his chest.
Sukuna strokes his soft hair, "Want me to make something for you?"
Satoru hums softly, "Don't move. Just order something– burgers."
"Greasy and disgusting. No." Sukuna replies, still playing with his hair.
Satoru pulls his head back slightly to look at him. "I'm too blissed out to argue with you right now. I'm also craving greasy and disgusting."
Sukuna rolls his eyes, bemused. "You're spoiled," he says even though he sits up to retrieve Satoru's phone. Since they've ended up upside down on the bed, it takes him a lot of moving around to grab it.
Satoru, like a spoiled brat Sukuna just called him, fusses over being left alone until Sukuna pulls him back into his arms.
The curse unlocks his phone and hands it to him, ain't no way he's ordering food. Satoru had insisted to buy him his own phone a while ago, it only has Satoru and Uraume's saved number in it. Since he has let Uraume be in charge of managing the stupid school business, they only call Sukuna when it's really necessary, much more considerate of disturbing him than Satoru.
Satoru always texts him in series of messages, stupid jokes, cheesy pickup lines, a shitload of pictures from when he visits places for missions. And selfies, lots of them. Those, Sukuna doesn't mind. They range from silly to risque. He threatens Satoru that he'll throw away the device if he sent anymore of them but really, nobody believes him.
Oh, and his wallpaper is a selfie of Satoru, head laying on his stomach. He's grinning while Sukuna is staring at him instead of the camera. No, he is not staring with a lovesick look, he is glaring at the sorcerer. Satoru set it as his wallpaper and Sukuna reasons that he knows shit about changing wallpapers so he has just let it be.
After ordering the food and cleaning both of them up he drags Satoru to lay down properly, head up. Then settles beside him.
"We should adopt a cat," Satoru annouces out of the blue, his head pillowed over Sukuna's bicep under the blanket. "Since, you know, you hate interacting with people. Pet's a good start." He grins, preempting protest.
"You're enough interaction," Sukuna grumbles.
"Sweet. But now i want a cat. We can pick a white one with blue eyes– you'll like it more easily then." He tilts his head, all mischief.
"I meant you're barely tolerable, not that I enjoy it. And no, we're not getting a pet."
Satoru rolls onto face him, undeterred and still grinning. Sukuna only raises an eyebrow at him. "You called me baby."
Sukuna's brows knit together before he scoffs. "Probably a slip of tongue, I don't even remember."
"Terrible liar. And I liked it, though, so feel free to call me that more often."
"You're a grown man."
"And you're a dinosaur. Hear me complaining?"
"You're so lucky you're a pretty."
"Pretty enough that you fucked me instead of killing me. Gege's worst nightmare."
"Who? And stop trying to be sneaky. I can see you search up pet shelters near you."
"Call me baby and i might listen– huh– Sukuna! Give me my phone back, you demon."
Satoru tackles him, all limbs and laughter, but Sukuna pins the phone out of reach. A half-hearted scuffle ends with Satoru sprawled atop him, sulking with his head tucked under Sukuna’s chin. "Regretting living with you," he mutters, though the way he slots against Sukuna’s body suggests otherwise.
Silence lingers before Satoru breaks it, fingers tracing the tattoos on Sukuna’s arm. "It's time for new admissions. We have two candidates so far, I'd probably go to receive them– gotta play teacher," he speaks, fingers tracing the tattoos on Sukuna's bicep and head tucked under his chin.
"No, you won't. Send that one with the glasses. What's-his-name," Sukuna squeezes his waist, not amused by the new knowledge.
"Nanami? Ijichi? Both wear glasses. Learn their names, you relic." Satoru turns his head, chin resting over Sukuna's chest as he studies him.
The first time he’d seen Sukuna in his true form, all those weeks ago, the differences had been unnoticeable. Now, he could map them blind: the absence of the forehead mark, the new ink along his back, the way the four black bands on his wrists condense to one per arm in his true form. His hair, somehow softer now, carry the faint sweetness of strawberry shampoo—Satoru’s doing, of course. Pink should smell like fruit.
"They are all the same to me," Sukuna dismisses his remark. "I especially despise that one woman. The teacher."
"Utahime?" Satoru laughs, "Yeah, well. She finds me insufferable and I live to oblige. Don't you dare hurt any of them though."
Sukuna rolls his eyes, all four of them. "As long as they don't push their luck."
"Mhm. Shame they lack the Gojo genes." Satoru cocks his head, feigning innocence. "Would you be nicer if they were as pretty as me?"
"They'd still be sorcerers. I hate that breed."
Satoru gasps, clutching imaginary pearls. "I'm a sorcerer," he points at himself, dramatic.
"You're not weak and dependent." Sukuna counters his theratics with a deadpan look.
Satoru’s grin widens. "Bless the Gojo genes." He stretches, then yawns—exaggerated— before settling back against Sukuna. "Wake me when the food arrives."
Sukuna exhales through his nose, something almost like amusement. "Wake yourself. I’m not your maid." He says as his fingers thread through Satoru's hair without a second thought.
Satoru’s grin doesn’t falter as he nuzzles deeper into the crook of Sukuna’s neck. "Could’ve fooled me," he murmurs, voice already thick with drowsiness. "You did just clean me up and tuck me in. Very domestic. Very devoted." His lips press against Sukuna's skin, "And you're the wifey, don't forget."
Sukuna’s hand clamps over his face, shoving him sideways. Satoru laughs, muffled, but doesn’t resist— just lets himself be manhandled, limbs loose and pliant. When Sukuna finally relents, Satoru stays where he’s dumped, cheek smushed against the pillow, one eye cracked open to watch him.
"White cat, remember? Blue eyes are optional– I like having them exclusive to me."
Sukuna doesn't dignify that with a glance, "Mhm, keep telling yourself that." He mutters, unimpressed.
Undeterred, Satoru shuffles lazily until his face presses against the side of Sukuna's ribs once again. "We'll name the cat Sukuna junior. Since you'll be the cat mom." He mutters, cheeks aching from how hard he grins at the look on Sukuna's face.
"Shut up," he grumles, as if that settles everything.
Satoru preens. "Make me."
He barely finishes the taunt before Sukuna’s hand clamps over his face, squishing his cheeks like overripe fruit— and then Sukuna’s mouth crashes into his, a kiss more punishment than affection, all teeth and dominance. Satoru’s laugh dissolves into the heat of it, but his arms loop around Sukuna’s neck anyway, pulling him closer.
Sukuna exhales, long-suffering. He collapses back onto the pillows and let Satoru cuddle into him. "You’re a menace."
"Mhm, and future cat co-parent."
Sukuna exhales loudly. Satoru doesn't look but he can picture the look on his face. He loves being a little shit honestly.
"Don't your eyes hurt without a blindfold for so long? Fucking rest them."
Satoru muffles the sound of his please laugh and presses his face more against Sukuna. The way Sukuna’s arm settles around his waist— heavy, possessive, unwilling to let go— says more than any surrender ever could.
Some victories are sweeter when your opponent already knows.
They will get that cat.