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Gojo Satoru is grinning, as he always is. Sukuna wants to claw that smile off his face.
The asshole’s beauty is offensive. The man is pretty in a delicate, ethereal way which is completely at odds with the rest of himself: milky skin and snow-white hair and pale long eyelashes framing impossibly blue eyes on the one hand, puerile trolling and blithering nonsense on the other.
Itadori Yuuji likes him. Itadori Yuuji likes about anyone who smiles at him and pats his head.
“You’re already trembling? Aww.”
“H-huh,” the brat pants in lieu of an answer.
His hands are gripping Gojo Satoru’s hips like he might die if he let go. Gojo Satoru’s thighs are wide open for them; he's grabbing the bed’s headboard for support, leaving himself vulnerable and exposed, or at least looking vulnerable and exposed. He’s slender but his body is all tightly packed strength, firm and chiseled, splayed under them like an offering. His inner muscles are twitching and tightening around their cock in just the right way to pick at their sanity, warm and soft and tempting; each second worsens the storm of pleasure raging through their veins, gnawing at their spine.
The brat’s already a panting mess. Sukuna isn’t, because he carefully avoided manifesting a mouth on their body.
You’re pathetic, Sukuna snarls in their head. Just start fucking him now.
Even in their headspace, his voice sounds ragged and husky. He’s this close to using their pact if his vessel doesn’t move this second.
I don’t need you telling me! The brat growls.
Why are you still not moving, then? Sukuna snaps.
I-I – just give me a moment, okay?
Gojo Satoru chuckles. It makes his body tremble around them. The muscles of his waist ripple, underlining how much he’s offered now. Why is the brat not pinching his nipples or caressing the vulnerable length of his flanks? Even with only two hands, isn't he aware that he can do more things with them than “grabbing on for dear life to his teacher’s hips”?
“You don’t know what to do? Want me to show you?” Gojo Satoru asks in the singsong voice he uses when he’s being an awful teacher (which is about all the damn time).
“Will the both of you stop it?” The brat moans out loud.
“Sukuna’s bothering you?” Gojo Satoru inquires with amused curiosity.
Itadori Yuuji freezes.
“I – huh –”
The asshole rises on his elbows. His pecs are firm; supple; untouched, because the damn brat forgot he had hands.
“Does he want to come out and play?” Gojo Satoru purrs.
His pupils are blown. His cheeks are slightly reddened. His lips are half-opened on a hint of teeth and tongue.
“No!” The brat says indignantly.
“What? Yes!” Sukuna protests from his hand, outraged.
Gojo laughs.
When he gets this body all to himself, Sukuna’s going to wreck Gojo Satoru before he kills him.
***
Nobara Kugisaki has demands, of course. The brat must take a shower and not use “your awful macho body soap” and swear that he won’t fall in love with her no matter what. He promises everything, because he’s a doormat, and undresses first. For all that she bitches, the woman stares at him with badly disguised hunger as he pulls off his T-shirt and pushes down his pants; she only pretends to focus on her own clothes whenever he looks at her.
Of course, the rest quickly devolves into a playful mess. She’s determined to direct the whole thing, but she doesn’t actually have any idea of what she’s doing and what really works for her; Itadori Yuuji doesn’t care to protest, though, so the blind leads the one-eyed dumbass and if they somehow manage to reach climax, it’s only thanks to the miracle of easily-sated teenagerhood. The woman sprawls on them afterward, probably to assert dominance or something. She buries her nose into their neck and breathes in softly; it tickles pleasantly.
“You’re already – haven’t you heard of a refractory period?” She complains when she realizes they're growing hard again.
“No!” Itadori Yuuji protests indignantly, feeling that he’s being accused of some heinous lack of sex etiquette.
“Well, I have and you’re, as always, some kind of freaky –”
She tries to rise from them in a way that feels like groping. The firmness of hard muscles rippling under her hands visibly makes her pause.
“– But,” she continues, “since I’m magnanimous, I can go for one more round. You’d better be worth it, though. I don’t even know if you’ve ever heard of a clitoris –”
Sukuna hasn’t. It’s probably yet another annoying modern invention, like this condom nonsense.
“I have,” the brat sighs in his usual “do you think I’m that dumb?” manner.
He reaches out, knuckles brushing against the vulnerable flesh of her belly before his fingers slide down her dark netherhair. He presses very gently. She lets out a choked, high-pitched cry which stirs unexpected lust in Sukuna’s guts.
Oh…?
“You!” She spats, trembling. “I – huh – you can do it again, but in a better position. I’m going to hurt my back or something.”
They do. She makes amazing noises and then, out of competitiveness, tries to tear the same level of decibels from their own lips.
That one’s not so bad.
***
Sukuna doesn’t get disturbed. He unsettles, not the opposite.
However, the Inumaki brat is weird.
Somehow, everybody seems to have accepted that oddness – first among which, of course, Sukuna’s dumbass vessel.
How, Sukuna says sternly.
Sometimes, against all evidence to the contrary, he hopes that attempting to impress the full weight of his disapproval upon the brat will make him grow some self-awareness. His vessel ignores him.
I hear the curse speaker babble a few ingredients and I find you sprawled on a table. In a schoolgirl uniform.
The Inumaki oddball is also wearing one. When he’s not talking nonsense, he’s apparently doing nonsense and convincing weak minds to do the same.
Well. With his small build and delicate features, he’s almost androgynous – outright pretty, and the firmness of muscles under their hands is only icing on the cake. The ambiguity is pleasant. Sukuna sinks back to passive indifference as his vessel gets pushed down and slowly coaxed into some kinky nonsense.
Maybe it’s the skirt and the situation, but the brat sounds both shyer and more noisy than usual. His embarrassment makes their sensation more vivid, though, so Sukuna will take it. They build up a nice rhythm, jolts of pleasure pushing their body closer to climax with each thrust of the curse speaker’s fingers.
Then the Inumaki kid bends down to their ear and whispers in his ridiculously sexy voice.
“Apple pie.”
Sukuna’s vessel arches and lets out a shocked noise, orgasm striking him midway. The curse speaker fingerfucks them through the last shivers of their pleasure.
“Wasabi?” He asks.
“I – huh – it’s a bit too…”
“Tuna.”
“Yeah, it’s – I mean, maybe one day but right now, I don’t feel ready.”
What.
The Inumaki brat softly pats their head. Their cheeks are burning. Sukuna doesn’t think they’ve ever blushed that hard. Huh?
“Salmon,” the curse speaker declares.
“Yeah,” Itadori Yuuji laughs. “Can I – should I return the favor, senpai?”
“Salmon!”
Wait, Sukuna orders. What did he say?
His vessel ignores him.
Brat! What the hell did he say?
There is no answer. Itadori Yuuji is capable of the kind of focus that only true imbeciles can master: he just has to concentrate his one and only neuron on one thought and voilà, no more mental resources to distract him.
“Brat!”
With time, Sukuna has found ways to chip away at some of his host’s attempts at resistance.
On this occasion, though, he fails to pry the real meaning of “apple pie” from his vessel.
The Inumaki lineage is trash.
***
Panda is –
We are not sleeping with that thing, Sukuna snaps inside of them.
It’s cold and the heater is broken, the brat retorts. We are sleeping with him.
Just suck it up! In my days, hundreds of trashes lived perfectly well without a heater!
Stop being such a kid, Itadori Yuuji has the gall to say.
Sukuna shouts at him and gets ignored, for which he plans to get bloody revenge later.
It’s only in the morning after, as the brat curls closer against the cursed corpse’s disturbingly soft and good-smelling fur, that Sukuna realizes that his vessel meant sleeping as in “sleeping” and not “having sex.”
Well, it’s not as if he had to admit his mistake anyway, so no harm done.
***
The Maki woman is a pain.
Together with the brat, they destroy a table.
They break Sukuna and the brat’s bed.
They put a dent in the wall.
“Maybe in the sealed room thing I was dragged in when I was arrested…” Itadori Yuuji suggests, racking his brain.
“We are not sneaking into the school’s prison just for a quickie,” she snaps.
Her expression turns thoughtful just as the words leave her lips.
“Though,” she continues slowly, “that blindfolded idiot probably did far worse during his time as a student, so...”
The prison’s walls do hold out, but the woman makes something pop in their spine when Sukuna's vessel goes down on her and she hurts her back trying to keep up with their rhythm. They shatter a chair with a misplaced kick and Sukuna can swear that a few seals have grown frayed at the edge.
“It was fun to be able to break a sweat,” she says in the end. “You want to do that again, I’m game.”
We are not game, Sukuna notifies his host. I am not fixing your neck because a woman broke it as you were flaunting your clitoris expertise to me. Anyway, there were surveillance curses at the entrance and they saved everything.
The brat’s distress makes the whole afternoon worth it.
***
“I broke my bed,” Itadori Yuuji confesses apologetically.
For a second, Fushiguro Megumi seems about to throw him out anyway.
“Nobody cares, brat,” Sukuna quickly intervenes. “Just sleep on the floor.”
Fushiguro’s Megumi expression darkens instantly.
“Come in,” he says defiantly.
He’s so easy. Sukuna adores him. He’ll let them reach the edge of orgasm, then he’ll ask for a kiss from Fushiguro Megumi under threat of screaming bloody murder.
At least, that’s the plan.
Of course, as always, his dumb, dumb vessel ruins everything just by being himself.
You’re being too rough, you dumbass! Sukuna growls in their headspace. Stop sucking so hard on his throat!
I know what I’m doing, the brat sighs exasperatedly as they straddle Fushiguro Megumi.
You don’t, you’re a brat, and we’re bottoming this time. I’m not having you break all of Fushiguro Megumi ribs by pounding him like you always do.
What? Sukuna’s vessel protests, outraged. I’m not pounding – people never complained when I did!
You’re a brute. Zero finesse.
Nobara and Maki never said anything! And Gojo didn’t either!
Gojo Satoru is Gojo Satoru, you fool, and Maki and Nobara are women, Sukuna snaps. They’re built to survive pregnancy! Can you imagine yourself giving birth?
C-Can I give birth? The brat asks in a strangled voice.
What? No! Why would you?
Well, you’re –
Two-faced! I’m two-faced! I have two faces!
You also had four arms, Itadori Yuuji says defiantly.
What do arms have to do with getting pregnant?
The point is, you could have more weird characteristics that are not mentioned in your name –
This is nonsense. Sukuna is not talking genitals with his vessel, at least not in this situation.
We’re not getting pregnant and the point is, women are built tough. We’re not –
“Are you fighting with Sukuna?” Fushiguro Megumi asks.
“I, huh – how do you know?” The brat stammers.
“You froze. Also, you move your lips when you’re too focused arguing with him in your head.”
Fushiguro Megumi’s gaze slides downward to their crotch.
“You... were talking about pregnancy?”
“I’m not going to get pregnant!” Itadori Yuuji swears at the same time that Sukuna snaps from his cheek “We are not going to get pregnant!”
“Okay,” Fushiguro Megumi says easily instead of arguing about arms and other nonsense. “So what did Sukuna want?”
Sukuna’s vessel gawks at him. Sukuna himself may look a bit surprised. Fushiguro Megumi stares at them in that “I know you’re hiding something and I’m going to pry it out of you calmly but mercilessly through my steady gaze and my lack of vocal insistence” way of his.
“I, huh... He said we should bottom.”
“And you'd prefer topping?”
“I like whatever you like,” the brat replies honestly.
His answer doesn’t seem to dampen Fushiguro Megumi’s suspicion.
“Why would you fight about it, then?”
He reaches out to their cheek – the one without Sukuna – and caresses it.
“Listen, I know he's after something. I don’t care, just tell me.” He pauses. “I mean, I'm not getting pregnant –”
“I don’t want you to get pregnant!” Sukuna exclaims in exasperation.
And then, because he’s only just realizing that Fushiguro Megumi seems incredibly calm about hypothetical sexual favors:
“I want kisses.”
“No!” The brat cries out indignantly.
“Okay,” Fushiguro Megumi simply says.
He stares back at them when they freeze in surprise.
“I mean, you’re going to scream or something if I refuse, right?”
“I will!” Sukuna agrees, overjoyed.
“So there you are. I’ll kiss you.”
“But, but –” The brat stammers.
Fushiguro Megumi caresses his temple.
“It’ll be alright. Let’s do this, okay?”
This is the best thing that’s happened to Sukuna in centuries.
***
“I’m... flattered, Yuuji,” Ugly Tie Sorcerer says after an uncomfortably long silence. “However, I can’t accept.”
“Why?” Sukuna’s very dumb and very bold vessel asks with that exasperating puppy sadness of his.
“You’re a child and I’m an adult. Any relationship would be fundamentally unbalanced.”
“But –”
Ugly Tie Sorcerer gently ruffles their hair.
“A relationship with such a wide age gap would be dysfunctional and unfair to you. I have more experience and emotional knowledge; I also lack the energy and the hopefulness that a teenager deserves to share with their partner. Should any adult accept or initiate those kinds of things with you, you should absolutely tell me about it. I won’t judge you. Whatever happens or has happened, you are not at fault. In those situations, the adult is the sole culprit.”
The man leans over them. His steely gaze meets the brat’s.
He looks very calm. He sounds very calm. Sukuna can almost hear the “Gojo” unsaid under “adult.”
The brat swallows. Sukuna himself doesn’t feel entirely at ease.
“Do you have anything you’d want to tell me, Yuuji?” Ugly Tie Sorcerer asks.
“I don’t,” Itadori Yuuji says in a small voice. “I – huh – you'd said you wanted to take me to a bakery you’d found...”
That gaze lingers on them from behind dark glasses. Every single one of their muscles is so tense it hurts.
Ugly Tie Sorcerer straightens.
“Indeed. Let’s go, Yuuji. It’s my treat.”
Sukuna takes note to never let his vessel flirt with adults anymore.
Not unless they flirt first.