Archive of Our Own

“So,” Satoru began, leaning back in the chair until it creaked for a mercy he’d never had, “what’s the best way to take two cocks at once?”

“Why are you asking me?” Shōko was looking at him, unconcerned. “You already know how to be a slut.”

“Sure, sure,” Satoru agreed, “but these are seriously big. And there’s two of them, have I mentioned?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Come on, Shōko, give me some pointers. You’re the medical professional.”

“I can’t heal crazy,” came steady, “so my opinion as a medical professional isn’t going to change your mind.”

Satoru laughed. 

“You didn’t come here for cocks,” Shōko said, and she wasn’t wrong. 

Satoru hummed, glancing through one wall, through stone and wood and out into the cold air. Sukuna was there, in the distance, working through one of the vast libraries. Satoru could see the blaze of him. One glorious fire, among the sparks. 

Four days. It’d been four days since the Shibuya Incident. The world had turned four times, and Satoru had forgotten to watch it. 

He shifted on the chair, feeling the ache in his body bloom. Most of it, he’d healed. Some he hadn’t. Some was new. There were fresh marks across his throat that Sukuna had left that very morning, pinning Satoru up against the wall and putting his teeth to work. Outside of the barrier, even, while Ijichi waited in the car. 

A claim, Satoru knew. He’d let it happen, just like he’d let the marks stay.

That did mean Megumi had seen them, this morning. So had everyone else, but Satoru didn’t care much about the others. If one of the elders saw the residuals of Sukuna’s teeth on their precious honored one and had a heart attack, all the better. Saved Satoru some work later. 

But Megumi had looked worried. 

Ah, well. He’d get used to it. Satoru let his chair settle down on four legs. Crossed his arms, and felt the bruises across his wrists ache. It didn’t hurt much. Sukuna needed to do better. 

“How are the kids taking it?”

“They’ve been worried,” Shōko answered, bland, “but that’s all. They trust you, you know.”

“I know,” Satoru said, and smiled, “I have such dutiful students. Aren’t they cute?” 

“Sure, yeah.”

Shōko pulled off her gloves, pushing the body she’d been cutting away. Not a sorcerer, this time. One of the humans Mahito had gotten to before Sukuna had gotten to him. 

“It’s not like you to hesitate,” she said, and Satoru knew what she meant. They’d known each other for too long, hadn’t they? Understanding stained the soul as easily as love. It’d keep staining the both of them— years and years stretched ahead of them, now. 

Satoru was glad. 

“I’m not,” he said, and it wasn’t even a lie, “I’m being patient. There’s a world of difference.”

Shōko stored the corpse, and pulled out the next. Another manipulated human. One of the last. “Why are you here, then?”

“You know.”

A sigh, a new set of gloves, and then a knife, sinking into the next body. Shōko was such a professional. 

“You’re making everyone nervous,” she said. 

“Yeah, I know. You worried?”

Shōko tilted her head, glancing at him. She looked the same as she always did. It was like she’d never changed, no matter how much the world had. 

Satoru wished he could believe that. 

“How confident are you that this won’t end in mass slaughter?”

“100%,” Satoru said, and he was. A special kind of madness, he supposed. 

“Then no, I’m not worried,” Shōko shrugged, blowing out a line of smoke. “You can heal your own ass when you rip it.” 

Satoru barked out a laugh, grinning. “Yeah, I can. Could still use tips on the double dicks, though.”

“Lube and patience. He has four hands, right? Use more fingers.” 

“Oh, he’s already putting all his hands to use, don’t worry,” Satoru said, and stood. The chair, he left. One act of mercy, in an unmerciful world. Not that it mattered to Satoru. He’d always made his own mercy. A thing Sukuna understood. Well. Not the mercy. Sukuna didn’t like that. 

Satoru was glad about that too. 

“Oh, Shōko,” he said, pausing in the door, “make good use of those corpses. There won’t be any more.”

“That’s good to hear,” she answered, and it was a flat, but he heard what went under it. The currents that swept beneath metal, beneath bone. The knife was moving a little slower, a little easier. Satoru smiled. 

Then, he left.  

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

A lot could happen in four days. 

Satoru understood that better than most. A lot had happened in 19 days, after all, and more had unwritten itself in the weeks before and after, over and over. Time had a way of staining the bones of the world and eating them anew, devouring until the only thing left was change.

This change was a color Satoru had never seen before. 

His body ached. His eyes ached too. He hadn’t covered them in a long time, and he didn’t have them covered now. 

He should. Would, eventually. It was easier to move through the world without the annoyance of eye strain. Easier on everyone else, too. People were fragile, and his eyes were cruel. And it really didn’t matter much. Even blindfolded he could see the burn of Sukuna. 

But still… there was something lost. 

Satoru closed his eyes, for a moment, and time marched on. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

The day passed quickly. 

Satoru had a half dozen meetings to make, a few idiots to threaten, and many students to teach. The first two he’d do— the third he’d enjoy. 

He went for Yūta first.

“Yūta,” he grinned, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Thanks for coming on short notice.”

“Ah! Gojō-sensei,” came polite, surprised, but smiling, too. “I’m glad you’re back.” 

“Good to see you too. I want to hear about your last few weeks, but first— any problems?”

Yūta nodded. “The higher ups came for Itadori-kun, just as you predicted,” a pause, quietly vicious, and then, “I kept him safe.”

Satoru smiled. What a good kid, Yūta was. Satoru was glad he wasn’t demanding to be a monster. “Good. Any one in particular?”

“No one I recognized.”

That meant it’d been a half-hearted attempt, at best. A test, at worst. Satoru was really getting tired of that idiocy. 

“Good work, Yūta,” he said, and ruffled the kid’s hair. “You’ll be sticking around for a while. Unpack, and say hi to the others. And don’t be a stranger to the younger students!”

“Of course, Gojō-sensei.”

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

Yūji and Nobara were next. The first years came back from the mission without a scratch. Satoru had expected that. Nice, easy excuses, missions. Useful things. 

Yūji and Nobara seemed fine, if a little unsettled. Satoru grinned at them, and annoyed them just the right amount, and most of that vanished. 

He made sure Yūji was seen with him, out in the autumn sunshine. Later, he’d make sure Yūji was seen with Sukuna too. 

But that could wait. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

It was Megumi that got to Sukuna first. Satoru was a little surprised. He was also a little worried, and a lot angrier than he’d expected to be. 

He remembered standing over Megumi’s body. 

It’d been cold. The wind had cut through Satoru’s shirt, chilling him from skin to bone, and bone to heart. He’d let it. Cold, Satoru had found, reminded him of the warmth. 

That day was history, and not future. Megumi was alive, and the world was a brighter, warmer place. It wasn’t really winter yet. They had weeks before snow sunk its teeth into Tōkyō. 

It was different. Better, because Satoru had sold himself to Sukuna. He didn’t have any regrets. 

That didn’t mean he was about to forgive. 

So Satoru went to the library. 

“Well,” he said, stepping between Megumi and Sukuna, “isn’t this cute.”

Satoru watched with six eyes, taking in the fire and edge of Sukuna. 

The King of Curses fit well, in a library. Satoru hadn’t expected that, but he should have. Sukuna was his equal, after all, and no equal of his would ever deign to look out of place. Still, Sukuna was especially right, here. Maybe it was the kimono— it was wide-sleeved and black, with pretty white detailing. Regal enough to invite kneeling, even from Satoru. 

He wouldn’t of course. Sukuna had to ask him for that.

“Satoru,” Sukuna said, and reached out with a hand. 

It was a demand. Satoru indulged it.

He stepped in, and let four hands settle on him. Let Sukuna touch him, as he let no one else. It was a little refreshing, Satoru thought, to allow the one man who could hope to force him.  

“Sukuna,” he said, and the banter spilled out from there. 

It was strange just how easy it was to be near Sukuna. Like breathing in deep and reckless, after a lifetime of little gasps. They talked so easily. So quickly. Word for word, a perfect match. 

“—to worry about my own arms, then,” Satoru chirped, smirking. “What a relief!” 

And oh, a kiss. Satoru had wanted one of those. The noise Megumi made in the background made it even funnier. 

Still, Satoru sent Megumi away. He always would. 

The library was quiet. No one was here. No one dared to be here. There was blood flecked across one of the bookshelves. It hadn’t hit the books. Their spines stood untouched, unsullied. Clean, by any measure but time. 

Sukuna had been careful. 

And speaking of the King of Curses— 

Four hands tightened across his skin, for a heartbeat. A warning, Satoru thought, but it felt more like an invitation. Sukuna knew that. Satoru knew he did. 

“Don’t use me to teach a lesson,” Sukuna ordered. He was wrapped around Satoru’s back, kissing the bruises made that morning. 

Satoru leaned into it. 

“Why not? You’re good at it. Maybe I should tell Yaga to make you a teacher.” 

“Mm. You know, I haven’t dismembered anyone in a while. I have missed it.” 

“Ah, no killing, remember.”

“A human can live without limbs,” Sukuna said, idle. “Take the fools from earlier, for instance. They’ll all live.” 

Satoru snorted. “You had to heal them enough to keep them from bleeding out, and that’s more work than you’d put into most people. You only did that to send a message.”

“Very successfully.”

“Successfully,” Satoru agreed, wry. He didn’t really care what happened to the idiots the higher ups sent after Sukuna, but he did care about other people that came calling. He’d need to make some plans, but that could wait too.

He nodded to the book Sukuna had been reading. 

“So, what’s that?” 

“Trash,” Sukuna said, simply, “a waste of paper.” 

Sukuna tossed the book back, behind them, onto the floor. With six eyes, Satoru could see where it fell, the shape of its spine, the movement of cursed energy in each divot of the leather, in each letter of the title. It was a transcript of a volume of history— of the Heian era, specifically. 

Satoru twisted back, to look at Sukuna. The angle was a little strange. Rough on his neck in a way he wasn’t used to, but was growing to like. There were few people taller than him. Fewer, that he let hold him like this. 

“It pissed you off that much, huh,” Satoru mused, watching the burn of Sukuna’s pulse, the flex of muscle. “Inaccurate?”

“Pathetically so.” 

“Let me guess... they got your dick size wrong. No, worse, they forgot one, didn’t they? That really is a crime.”

Sukuna sighed, rolling his eyes. A hand sunk into Satoru’s hair and tugged, merciless. “The honored one, divine under the heavens, blessed above all others. And a slut, that can’t stop thinking about my cocks. Have I fucked you broken, Satoru?”

“You wish,” Satoru laughed, “but no, Sukuna. I was like this before you fucked me.”

“Mm. I’m going to make you worse.”

“That a promise?”

“A threat,” Sukuna smirked, and kissed him. It was a good, fiery kiss. Slow as embers reaching for timber, crawling up and into Satoru’s skin to burn and burn. The hand in his hair pulled, mean. The other hands bruised across his body. 

Satoru liked it. 

Sukuna pulled back, eventually. Satoru’s eyes knew how many seconds had passed, with the clarity of a man floating above the sea. His lungs were another matter entirely. 

A little breathless, he said, “you should fix the book.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t I say, earlier? You need a hobby.” 

“I already have one.”

“Fucking me doesn’t count.”

Sukuna chuckled. It sounded like death. Satoru liked it.

“Not going to deny it?”

“Why would I? There is only one Gojō Satoru.”

“That really gets me going, you know,” Satoru mused.

“I know.” 

Satoru looked out, past the walls and halls, into the sunlight. 

There wasn’t much of the day left, and he was feeling an itch under his skin. There was more he could do, of course. Task after task that’d piled up in four days, curse after curse to kill. 

Satoru didn’t really care. He also didn’t want to leave Sukuna. Not a feeling he was used to, but he supposed he’d have a lifetime to warm to the burn of it. 

Yeah, he decided. The day was over. 

“Come on, big guy,” he said, and turned to the door. “I’ve got something to show you.” 

“Oh?” 

“Home,” Satoru said, “the real one, this time. Figured you’d like to see where I actually slept.”

There was a pause. 

“Is this where you kept the brat for remedial lessons?”

“After you killed him, you mean?” 

“After I brought him back,” Sukuna corrected, a smirk blooming, and ah, Satoru wanted blood.

A hand flexed, on his waist.

Satoru sighed, annoyed. “Really? I’ve got plenty of bloodlust for you without you riling me up more, Sukuna.”

“So?” Sukuna said, steady. “You exist for my pleasure. If I want you angry, that’s how I’ll have you.” 

“Right up until I decide you’ve annoyed me enough to kill again,” Satoru said, sharp. He waved to the hands across his body. “Staking your claim early, huh?”

“No need,” Sukuna drawled. “You’ll do it for me.” 

He wasn’t wrong.

“Then why the hands?”

“For the only reason I do anything— because I want to.”

Satoru blinked, slowing. 

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I didn’t think you knew how to be honest.”

Sukuna rolled four eyes, and bruised with four hands. “I know how to do most things. Now hurry up. I’m bored of waiting for you.” 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

They walked to the house. It was uneventful. A stroll of two lovers, six arms, and ten eyes. 

Satoru found it a little charming. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

“The bedroom,” Sukuna ordered, as soon as they’d stepped inside. They hadn’t even made it much past the door. 

Satoru grinned. 

“Straight to business, huh? What if I wanted to get freaky on the kitchen counter?”

“You’ll wait until that’s where I want to have you,” Sukuna smirked, and stepped back, away from him. Far enough to ache. “Show me to your bed, Satoru.”

“Our bed, now,” Satoru said. It was an afterthought. The flash of a star before birth. 

Sukuna paused. 

“Yes,” came smooth, “you are mine, after all.” 

Satoru showed him to the bedroom, and then Sukuna was on him between one blink and the next, when six eyes dimmed and all Satoru saw was the outline of fire. 

Satoru crushed limitless long before it could even glimmer. 

A hand slid under his shirt, burning, a fire held to the skin of his belly. Satoru was muscle more than anything else, but those fingers seemed to hunt down the little softness his body had and bruise it purple. 

Another hand worked at his pants, undoing them, forcing them down. Another sunk into his body, wet with something. Maybe the spit from the stomach mouth, Satoru wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, it was good enough to get Satoru wet. The last pulled Sukuna’s cocks free, and lined one up right against Satoru’s hole. 

Satoru drew a breath, and then Sukuna was sinking in. 

“Bottom cock,” Satoru said, breathless, “I’m glad. I felt bad for the poor thing, you know? It was getting neglected.”

The other one was sitting hot and heavy on his ass, up to the small of his back. Satoru liked it.

“Save your pity,” Sukuna drawled, “my cocks don’t need it.”

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

They fucked like that for a while. Sukuna forced him to his knees, at some point, and Satoru let it happen. 

And then—

A bite, at the base of his neck, teeth sunk to draw blood. A breeding mark, some part of Satoru thought. 

It was that part that started talking, 

“Oh yeah, mount me, tiger.” 

“Oh?” That was curiosity. It was also dangerous. “Do you want to be bred, Satoru?”

“Nah,” Satoru drawled, spreading his knees a little wider, arching his back. He grinned, looking back. “But I want to be fucked like you want to breed me.” 

The look on Sukuna’s face was hard to describe. A little tight, around the eyes, a little cold. 

Satoru was more interested in the way the bottom cock twitched against his ass. The top one twitched too, against his back. 

Satoru grinned. 

A hand came for his neck, pinning it down. Two more came for his thighs. A fourth bruised along his spine. 

“You’re a fool. Disgusting.” 

“You’re so into it,” Satoru laughed, delighted. Sukuna seemed to take that personally. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

“So,” he began, when they were done but Sukuna still had a cock in him, “you like the idea of breeding me, but you don’t want to like it.”

The look on Sukuna’s face could have incinerated a man. Satoru liked it. 

“And this is the second time you’ve brought it up. Do you want to be bred?”

“It’s cute that you think deflecting will work,” Satoru chirped. 

Sukuna narrowed his eyes. The hands on Satoru’s skin flexed, bruised. 

“You’re after something,” Sukuna said, cutting. “Spit it out.” 

“It’s healthy for a couple to discuss their kinks, you know. Makes for good communication.”

“Healthy?” Sukuna sneered. “Those norms don’t apply to us. We understand each other as only we can. Talking is a formality. An indulgence.”

Satoru laughed. “Yeah, I know. But I like it.”

“…as do I,” Sukuna agreed, with a sigh, “despite your best efforts.” 

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t waste time responding to stupidity.” 

“So, you don’t want to knock me up,” Satoru purred, “the disgraced one marking the honored one inside and out?”

The cock in him twitched. The one at his back did too, wet and leaking. 

“That’s what I thought,” Satoru grinned. 

A hand snapped out, going for his throat. To choke him into quiet, if he had to guess. He activated limitless, just a touch around his throat.

“Getting mixed messages over here,” Satoru laughed. “You say one thing, your cocks say another.”

The hand forced its way through, bullying, unstoppable. It found his throat, a leash made of power. 

It squeezed. 

“Silence,” Sukuna growled, and Satoru gasped. It was his cock’s turn to twitch now. Ah, that hand felt good. 

Sukuna laughed. 

“Was this it? This is what you wanted?” He squeezed again, tighter. Satoru’s throat would be purple with bruises tomorrow. What a gentle king. “You want me to pin you down and force you to shut up. Take what I want from you until that smart mouth stops running.”

And yeah, that did sound good. Satoru was—

In one smooth move, Sukuna pulled Satoru off his cock by the throat, and tossed him to the ground. 

“Behave,” Sukuna cut out, “or I’ll leave you desperate.” 

Satoru blinked. Coughed. Felt the aching space in his body that Sukuna had claimed and abandoned, felt the cold brush across his skin. 

Then he threw his head back and laughed. It came out rough, rasping, and weak. 

“Oh, you really are perfect, Sukuna.”

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

It was after, when Satoru sauntered out of bed, aching and with cum dripping down his thighs like the lewdest version of snow, that he really looked at the energy in the house. He immediately turned around, eyes sharp. He felt a little like Sukuna had just shoved a lemon into his mouth, flesh first. 

Satoru hated sour tastes. 

“Seriously? This is my house.”

“Mine too, as you pointed out,” Sukuna drawled, stretching. A smirk bloomed like fire from coals. “Did you only just notice? I must have fucked you stupid.”

“Well, you certainly fucked me well-behaved. We’ll see how long that lasts when you let brats into our house.”

Sukuna rolled out of bed, all muscle and dark tattoos. Satoru lost a moment watching. Sukuna smirked, and stepped closer, leaning in, reaching for him.

Satoru let him. 

A hand traced his spine, down and down. Three fingers forced their way into him for just long enough to ache. And then Sukuna smacked the curve of his ass, and pulled away. 

“Cover this. It belongs to me.”

“Clothes weren’t part of the pact,” Satoru said, feeling sharp. He was also feeling…

Well. Satoru knew himself well enough to know what the other feeling was.

“You were, and so was the view,” Sukuna countered, and then, “Uraume will have made food.”

Satoru paused. “Any good?”

“Very.”

Satoru sighed. 

“Fine,” he said, and put on pants, “but if they annoy me I’m punching them through a wall. Again.” 

Sukuna just smirked. 

Apparently he had good reason to. 

“…I’m annoyed by how good this is,” Satoru said. They were sitting at his table, the three of them. It was covered in a spread of food. A feast, prepared in Satoru’s own kitchen. 

Sukuna kept eating, but Satoru had six eyes. He saw the smirk. 

Uraume tilted their head. “I’m glad it’s to your taste. I am unused to preparing sweets.”

Satoru scoffed, smiling with teeth. “Now you’re polite?”

“We’ve never met before, Gojō Satoru.”

“Yeah, but Sukuna must have told you about the future. Or is it the past?”

“Both,” Sukuna said, and then, “not that it matters. But yes, Uraume knows.”

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

They finished all the food. Fucking worked up an appetite, and it was delicious. Satoru was a little annoyed about that. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

“So,” Satoru said, later, “you had them make sweets just for me, huh? Cute.”

Sukuna snorted. “You think I’d care about that?”

“You care about me,” Satoru chirped, and knew it to be true. It was strange, but the truth was strange, sometimes. So was the world. 

The stranger part was that Satoru cared too. 

“They say a wise man cares for his weapons like they are wives.” A mocking little laugh. “You aren’t a weapon or a wife, and yet I still fuck you. Are you so greedy to think I’d give you more?”

“Please, we both know you’d die without this ass.” Satoru grinned, toothy. “Sounds like you want to marry me. Too bad, Sukuna, I’m not the marrying type. And that isn’t an answer!”

Sukuna rolled four eyes, and said, “they noticed on their own.”

Satoru blinked. 

“Huh.”

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

Uraume came back the next day, and made them breakfast. That evening, there was dinner waiting in the house. It was annoyingly good. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna said, and grinned. 

“Lord Sukuna,” and then, after a beat, the brat nodded to Satoru, stiff, “Gojō Satoru.”

“Icy brat,” Satoru greeted, “you wouldn’t happen to know anything about why the back window keeps frosting over, would you?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to, Satoru,” Sukuna cut in. It wasn’t protective— Satoru thought Sukuna was allergic to protective— but it was something. Possessive, maybe. An odd color to gleam across his kitchen table. 

Satoru smiled back with teeth. “Where’s the fun in that? I wouldn’t be able to ask anything.”

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

The same thing happened the next day. Satoru worked up an appetite riding Sukuna until the bed pled for mercy, and when he went out into the house, there was cheesecake on the counter. 

Excellent cheesecake. A delicate crumb, moist and tender and fluffy and—

Satoru ate most of it before Sukuna had even sauntered out of the bedroom. 

The King of Curses leaned against the counter, at his side. All long muscle and dark ink. Strength, Satoru thought, and let two hands curl around his waist. Six eyes traced up, from bare feet, to the drag of Sukuna’s cocks, soft and spent against his thighs, to the swirl of ink over Sukuna’s chest, up and up, until Satoru moored on four eyes and a wicked mouth. On Sukuna, really.  

Sukuna was smirking. Satoru wanted to kiss that look until something gave. 

“Well, Satoru? Have you learned your lesson yet?”

Satoru sighed. 

“Smug is a cute look on you, Sukuna, but you could wear another one. To shake it up, you know?” 

“Give me a reason, and I’ll consider it.” 

Satoru groaned, halfway to laughing. 

“Fine,” he decided. He was a smart man. He knew when it was time to switch tactics.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

The next morning, he tossed a key to Uraume. 

“There,” he said, “now you can stop sneaking in through the window, and use the door instead.”

There was a pause, from Uraume. From Sukuna too, Satoru noticed, but that one didn’t last long. 

“Good boy,” Sukuna said, smirking. Satoru rolled his eyes. 

It was like that melted the ice from the brat. They tucked the key away, in folds of cloth. 

“Thank you, Gojō-san.” 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

They didn’t talk about the breeding again, but Sukuna took him on his knees more often than not. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

Satoru went to find Suguru’s girls a few days after they got back. It wasn’t hard to trace them down. Cursed energy was a lingering, staining kind of thing. It clung to the skin long after a handshake, after a fight. Six eyes saw it all so clearly, and the girls—

Well. They looked like Suguru. 

“Hey,” he said, teleporting in. They jumped. 

“Gojō Satoru,” one breathed, and the other echoed it a second later. They looked the worse for wear— deep bags under their eyes, strained cursed energy, and shaking hands. On the run. Satoru had a feeling he knew why. 

“That’s me,” he grinned, “and you two are Mimiko and Nanako.”

They didn’t reply, shifting. Suspicious, in a way. Hateful, in another. 

Satoru understood. 

“Let me get straight to the point,” he decided, waving a hand. “The parasite that was using Suguru’s body is dead.”

“Oh,” one breathed. Looked a little like she’d cry. The other grit her teeth. 

“Did you kill it?”

“Nope,” Satoru answered. “Sukuna did. Just like you two planned, huh? Except if you’d asked him, he would have killed you. Luckily, I didn’t have to ask.” 

“We won’t thank you,” one said, “you killed him.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Satoru nodded. “You’re still going to come with me.”

“Come with you?”

It was a small, quiet question. From the quieter of the two. Satoru glanced at her. Six eyes saw more than skin, energy, or blood. 

“Of course,” he continued, ignoring the question, “it doesn’t make sense to have you start this year, so you’ll join the first years next year. I’m still going to put you on the school ground for now. Better than being on the run.”

They shifted, one vicious, the other shy. 

“Why would we—”

“You want to be where Suguru was. And besides, if you want to be able to get revenge on me for killing him, you need a place to grow stronger.”

Another pause, just as quiet. 

“…why?”

Satoru smiled. 

“He would have wanted you to get another chance,” he said, easy, light. “But he’s dead. Can’t give it to you. So I’ll do it instead, as a favor to my best friend.”   

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

Satoru put the girls in an empty house a few doors down, firmly between Shōko’s place on campus and his own. They looked unsettled, when he’d left them. He did it anyway. Keeping them close was enough to keep an eye or two on them, and more could wait until he was officially their teacher. 

Next year would be eventful, that was for sure. Satoru would have looked forward to it, if not for the whole monkey thing. 

Monkey, monkey, monkey. 

Satoru could hear it echoing like a memory. Monkey was what Tōji had called himself. Suguru had called non-sorcerers monkeys, without ever realizing that they could be flowers.

Satoru sighed, annoyed. Suguru had done one hell of a job with the brainwashing. It’d be a pain to undo. 

An arm wrapped around his waist. Another slid up, settling a hand across his throat. Loose and possessive, a reminder, more than a threat. Satoru didn’t need to look behind him to see the beast that waited in his bed. 

Their bed, he corrected. The bed of monsters. 

“Why did you waste any time on those two? They’re pathetic.”

Satoru turned, keeping the hand against his throat. “Spying on me now, are we?”

“You knew Uraume was there,” Sukuna said, dismissive. Two hands propped him up on the bed, and the other two leashed Satoru with a slow ease. Sukuna looked lazy, like a tiger basking in the sun between kills. 

It was a good look. 

“It’s a waste of their time, you know?” Satoru said, leaning into the hand, into Sukuna. “If you hadn’t had them hiding, I’d have offered them a teleport home.” 

“I didn’t order them to watch you,” Sukuna drawled. It looked amused. 

Satoru paused. Blinked. 

“Oh? So they did it on their own?”

“Mhm.”

Satoru slid into Sukuna’s lap, and asked, “now, why would they do a thing like that?”

Sukuna smirked. Squeezed Satoru’s throat with that hand, and warmed Satoru with all of that body. Straddling the King of Curses was a little like straddling raw flame, Satoru had found. It was best to settle in for the burn. 

“Figure it out yourself, Satoru.” 

Satoru laughed. “Fine, fine. It’s cute when you play mysterious.”

“You still haven’t answered.” 

“I’m deciding if I want to,” Satoru grinned, and earned another squeeze. The heat in Sukuna’s eyes was less lust and more a sparking anger. It didn’t matter— they were the same thing, between monsters. 

“Satoru.”

“It annoys you that you can’t force me to answer, doesn’t it?”

“Most of you annoys me.”

“Liar,” Satoru chirped, “you think I’m majestic.”

“Two things can be true at once,” Sukuna drawled, dry. The hand on Satoru’s neck squeezed. The body beneath him was so warm.

“You don’t seem to mind me when I’m sucking one of your dicks.”

“The one good use for your mouth.” 

“Oh, there’s more than that,” Satoru promised, and then he was reaching down, matching Sukuna threat for threat. 

Their bodies were so different. His fingers barely stretched across the width of Sukuna’s throat, but Sukuna’s palm cradled his pulse like it was small. 

Sukuna let his hand land. Satoru knew it.

“Show me, then,” Sukuna demanded.

Satoru did. He leaned forward, pressing up against every piece of skin he could find. Sukuna kept him steady, kept him held. 

Satoru sunk his teeth deep into Sukuna’s throat. 

Sukuna purred. 

It was a heady, rumbling thing, coming straight from the chest. Satoru felt it shake his jaw, start a pleasant rumble between his thighs. A big cat couldn’t usually couldn’t pull off both a purr and roar, but Sukuna was special, wasn’t he?

Satoru leaned back, licking his lips. Blood was bitter. He shouldn’t like it. 

“Not sweet enough,” he judged, and kissed Sukuna. 

“You’ll get used to it,” Sukuna said, and that was somewhere between a burning promise and an order. Satoru though he might even follow it. 

The hand at his neck flexed. He arched into it, and flexed his grip right back. 

“What?”

“Answer.” 

“If you want me to answer,” Satoru said, “you have to answer me too.”

“Honesty for honesty,” Sukuna mused. “Why do you care?”

“Why do you?” Satoru shot back, and oh, Sukuna didn’t look happy about that. Good.

“Because you’re mine,” came cold, steady, “and I’ll have the truth from you.” 

“That’s convenient,” Satoru drawled, “because I want the truth from you too,” and that was easy to say but a little bitter on its own. “Since you don’t care about giving it to me, I have to demand it, don’t I?”

Sukuna went quiet, for a moment. Thoughtful. Satoru let the king think, licking his way back up the throat. He found the mark of his teeth and kissed it, wound by wound.

Maybe Sukuna wasn’t the only possessive one, between them. 

“Fine,” came at last. “Within reason, I will answer what you ask. In return, you’ll answer my questions.”

“Within reason,” Satoru said, smirking. 

“Within reason,” Sukuna agreed, and Satoru watched his eyes narrow with six eyes and a lot of amusement. “Now answer.” 

“They belonged to Suguru,” Satoru said. He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t flinch. Spoke the words directly into Sukuna’s throat.

A pause. 

“The body Kenjaku used?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, I remember now. They begged me to kill him. It was pathetic.”

“What’s pathetic is that I let that little rat get Suguru’s body in the first place,” Satoru mused. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to kill him.”

“You didn’t miss anything,” Sukuna drawled. “He was easy to kill.”

“Not what I meant.”

“I know. I don’t care,” and then, “this Suguru… he wasn’t your equal.”

“No,” Satoru agreed, feeling cold, “we alone, remember?”

“We alone,” Sukuna repeated, and four hands went tight on Satoru’s skin. 

“Doesn’t mean he didn’t matter to me,” Satoru added.

“You and your sentiment,” Sukuna mocked. “I don’t understand, and I don’t care to. All that matters is that you’re mine.”

“How romantic,” Satoru cooed, and felt the grimace flex all the way down Sukuna’s throat. 

He laughed. Sukuna scoffed, and pulled him closer. Satoru let it happen. He let it all happen. 

Sukuna made it easier to be warm.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

It wasn’t a pact, what they’d agreed to. Nothing binding. Just a few bloody promises between monsters, whispered in the sheets. Honesty for honesty. 

It was cute that it felt sacred. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

Satoru warmed Sukuna’s cocks pretty often. It might even be his favorite pastime, at this rate. 

Sukuna seemed to find that funny. 

“You could focus in my domain, but not now?” Sukuna chuckled, on one long, sticky, night. Satoru felt every atom of it brush across his neck. “I didn’t realize warming my cock was more distracting than bleeding to death.”

Satoru groaned. “It is,” he admitted, “it really is.”

Sukuna laughed. 

“I’d be even more distracted with both cocks, you know.” 

“Greedy little thing,” Sukuna purred, “but no. Not yet. I haven’t won our fight yet.”

“You think you’re going to win?”

It was like a beast, looking above him, and Satoru had just shown soft underbelly. Shame Satoru didn’t have anything soft to show. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

“Ah!” Satoru said, the next day. “Weren’t you going to whip me?”

“Mm. I changed my mind.”

“Gone soft?”

Sukuna grabbed him by the chin and kissed him breathless, on and on and on, eating all the air from his lungs and more. Satoru let it happen, opened his mouth and let Sukuna devour it all, air and lungs a feast for the beast. He started to ache. He burned, head swimming. 

He healed the damage, and kissed back. 

Eventually, Sukuna let him go. Satoru panted, pliant, letting his head rest in Sukuna’s hand. 

“So is that a no, or—“

“I’ve decided,” Sukuna said, musing, “that only I am allowed to mark you. My hands, my teeth, my cocks. Nothing else.”

“Oh, that’s hot. That’s really hot.” 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

They didn’t talk about the breeding, but Sukuna sure knew how to mount him. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

Days slid into a week, and then a little more. The school was getting cold, but his classroom stayed warm. Six eyes ran over his students more often than not, searching. For scars, for hollow eyes, for a corroding horror at the soul. 

There was nothing to find. Shibuya was getting to be a memory, instead of an open wound. There was a beast sleeping in his throat that was pleased by that. The one underneath him didn’t seem to mind either. 

“You’re being surprisingly patient about the fight,” Satoru said.

“There’s plenty of you to devour,” Sukuna dismissed.

“Oh, so you like the sex just as much as the fighting.” 

“Why wouldn’t I? They’re different flavors of the same feast,” Sukuna smirked. “Finish protecting your flowers, and then we’ll fight.” 

Ah, that made Satoru hungry for both. Maybe the beast was his own, after all. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

The food kept showing up in the kitchen. Satoru stopped cooking at all, and started enjoying it. He’d never really gotten pleasure out of the process anyway. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

“So,” Satoru began, late one night, “Uraume is your kid, then.”

“My cook,” Sukuna corrected, teeth snapping like glass. 

“Sure,” Satoru smirked, “I believe that.”

“That’s a disrespectful tone,” Sukuna mused, “I should fill your mouth with cock to keep you quiet.”

“You wouldn’t,” Satoru dismissed, “I’d like it to much.” 

“You’re so annoying,” Sukuna sighed. It was warm. Fond. Satoru had grown used to the way it burned over his skin, conquering a path into his body to settle, unbidden, somewhere in his chest. 

He let it happen. 

“When did you take them in?”

Sukuna frowned. “I don’t remember. They were still a child, at the time. An orphan by their own hand. Their parents couldn’t survive their cursed technique and froze to death overnight.” A scoff. “Pathetic. Dying to the strength of your child, dying because your child was weak, dying to protect your child. It’s all the same. Weakness, by different names.”

“That’s a strong opinion there, Sukuna. You holding a grudge? Were your parents like that?”

Sukuna snorted. It was a cold sound. Like winter, come to burn the body to frost. 

“Why knows?”

“You didn’t know them?”

“I don’t remember much, and don’t care to.” A pause, and then, “what of your parents, Satoru? Do they live?”

“Sure, yeah,” Satoru shrugged. “But I hardly know them. A man like me isn’t something you raise.”

Sukuna laughed. It was flame, not frost. 

“No, you aren’t,” and then, “Uraume kept my meat from rotting for years just by sleeping next to it. Useful, and no danger to me. I barely feel the cold.” 

Satoru hummed, thinking of warmth. 

“Now, or then? Because you don’t have much body to feel with, now,” and actually, that raised a good point, “you can certainly feel when we fuck. I can see your cursed energy moving in response. What do you feel?”

“How tight you are for me,” Sukuna smirked, and then, “it’s complicated. Touch and taste, yes. Temperature, no. There are twenty fingers in this body. I have more physicality than I expected, for a curse.” 

“Hm. That could explain the way you look to my eyes. It’s a shame you can’t feel warmth. You’re toasty, you know? Better than a furnace. It must be that divine flame of yours, the stuff I’ve barely seen.”

“You’ll see it,” came like a promise, and then, Sukuna shrugged. “But who knows? It hardly matters now.”

“Guess not. You know,” Satoru mused, “there’s a saying, these days. Something like ‘there is no greater joy for a parent than watching their child surpass them.’ It’s cute, isn’t it?”

Sukuna turned to him, fully, with four burning eyes. 

“Don’t tell me you believe that, Satoru.”

“And why not?” Satoru looked back. “I want to raise up the next generation to match me. It’s the same, isn’t it?”

“You would never stand back and watch,” and that was a dark tone. Heavy. “It’s not in your nature.”

Satoru smirked. “Nature’s can change, you know.”

“The day you stand back,” Sukuna said, “is the day I kill you.” 

Satoru leaned in. “Is that an offer?”

“An oath.”

“Want to make it official?”

“No need,” Sukuna said. His eyes looked like flame in the night.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

They didn’t talk about the breeding, but Sukuna treated keeping him full of cum like an olympic sport. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

A few days passed like that. Easy. Strange. Satoru taught, and fought, and every day was a step closer to his dream. As it had been before. 

But it was also different. Before, he hadn’t been fucked four times a night, every night. Before, he wasn’t used to the feel of four hands on his skin, to being touched. 

Used to be, Satoru hadn’t fallen asleep next to another person in more than a decade. Now, he couldn’t seem to stop sleeping on Sukuna. It’d started back at the manor, in the warmth of the hot springs. It hadn’t stopped. 

Sukuna humored him. Indulged him, with eyes like fire. Demanded more of him than anyone else ever could. 

An equal was a strange thing. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

The next day, Satoru came home to the King of Curses sprawled across the floor, reading a book. Of poetry, no less. 

Satoru blinked. 

“Those poems are new,” he said, and slid straight into Sukuna’s lap. Sukuna caught him with two hands, and a steady ease. Satoru was starting to get used to that. 

“You’re so wrong it’s almost amusing,” Sukuna answered. “They’re nearly a millennia old.” 

“New to the house,” Satoru corrected, and Sukuna hummed. 

“New to you.” 

“Hey,” Satoru complained, grinning, “I had an excellent education in Heian era poetry. That doesn’t mean I liked it.” 

Sukuna laughed, low and mocking. 

“I’m not surprised. Your taste is terrible.”

“My taste is excellent,” Satoru purred, “I like you, don’t I?”

“That means little. Even fools can recognize strength.” 

“Yeah,” Satoru agreed, leaning in, “but you don’t think I’m a fool.”

Sukuna sighed, and kissed him. 

The King of Curses was wrapped in a kimono. A fine silk one, black, with red lining. He’d claimed the one tatami room in the entire house, soaking it in the blaze of his energy. The power was thick enough to taste, in here. Satoru almost wanted to open his mouth, and let it pool across his tongue. 

“You know, I have a traditional house,” Satoru found himself offering. “You’d probably like it better there.”

Sukuna paused. His hands were warm on Satoru. Searing. 

“Later. I’m not bored yet.” 

Satoru laughed. “With me around? It’s impossible to be bored.”

“Cocky little thing,” Sukuna drawled, and pulled down his blindfold. Satoru let him. 

He liked watching Sukuna with bare eyes anyway. It made it easier to see the colors of the world, the burn of the king. Mooring his eyes on Sukuna was more than a habit, now. It was a pleasure. 

Ah, that was dangerous. Satoru decided he didn’t care. 

He pushed the kimono aside enough to trace a tattoo, feeling the heat of Sukuna’s cursed energy with his fingers, not just his eyes. 

Sukuna caught his wrists and twisted them, bruising, behind his back.

Satoru raised an eyebrow. 

“That was sudden.”

Sukuna smirked. “I want you squirming on my cocks.”

“We can do that,” Satoru grinned. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

They still fought, sometimes. Not a real fight— that needed space and time they hadn’t made yet, and Satoru was annoyed about it— but still violent. Still rough. There were sharp edges between them that 35 deaths hadn’t sanded off. 

That was okay by Satoru. Better, since the scuffles tended to end in sex. 

Like tonight. 

“In me, now,” Satoru panted, aching for a fight. He was on his back with Sukuna looming above him like a hunting cat.

He expected, then, to be fucked. He was not. Instead, his thighs were clamped together around Sukuna’s cocks, legs pulled to one side and tucked under a lower arm.

Satoru blinked six eyes up at Sukuna, and asked, “did you fucking miss?”

“I don’t miss,” came with fire, offended, and then Sukuna leaned in closer, forcing Satoru’s legs up and up, pressing fresh bruises into his thighs, his ankles, the soft skin under the knee. 

“Sure looks like you did.”

“Those six eyes of yours are struggling to see.” 

“And your four eyes are struggling to aim,” Satoru countered, a little breathless. Sukuna’s cocks were huge, and the feel of them was incredible. Hot, like coals rubbing across his skin, staining him slick and slippery. The weight was good too, getting Satoru all shivery where he was pinned down by Sukuna’s body.

It was good. Great, even. 

It wasn’t enough. Satoru felt empty.

“Anyone else would be in pieces for that,” Sukuna said, quiet as smoke, looking down as Satoru looked up. He was smirking, a lazy curl of fire, amusement and challenge. 

Satoru wanted to shred him. 

“Open your domain, and try it,” he demanded, all teeth. “I’ll do you a favor, and not even open mine, since it seems like you need that guaranteed hit right about now.” 

“Whining this much? All because I didn’t fuck you?” Hot, Sukuna said, “how easy.”

“Easy?” 

Satoru laughed, bared his teeth, and grabbed Sukuna by the throat. 

He pulled. Sukuna held steady, for a beat. Just long enough to show that he wouldn’t bend, wouldn’t give, and oh, Satoru might kill him— 

“That’s what I want to see,” Sukuna purred, and licked into Satoru’s mouth.

He fucked forward and down a few times, almost lazy. The weight of two cocks dragged against Satoru’s skin, rubbing against his cock too, making it jolt. Like it was a reward. Like Sukuna was pleased. 

“I think I get it,” Satoru panted, skin hot enough to boil, “denying me makes you hot.”

“You look good when you’re desperate. It gets you wild. A beast, not a man,” and a kiss to Satoru’s temple, and then low and spooling like fire, “you are magnificent like this, Satoru.”

Satoru shuddered. 

“Come on, come on,” he said, and wrapped his hands around them— three cocks took both hands, but it didn’t matter, Sukuna would keep him braced in place. He flexed his thighs, and won a grunt, a twitch. His cock was twitching too, hard enough to ache. 

“So eager,” Sukuna said, and it was grinning, wild. 

“Yeah I’m fucking eager,” Satoru agreed, and squeezed them, feeling slick coat his fingers, and like a beast, Sukuna fucked into his hand, his thighs. The weight of two cocks against his inner thighs was a little mesmerizing, he had to admit. “You want to deny me so bad? Then do it. Get off with just my thighs, princess, and make a mess of me.”

The look on Sukuna’s face was priceless. 

“Do not call me that,” Sukuna growled, and grabbed Satoru by the jaw. It was a harsh grip. Bruising. 

Satoru liked it. 

“Or what?” He twisted his head, pressing against the grip on his skin, moaning at the pain. “You’ll rip out my tongue? Pretty kinky, but we both know I’d just grow it back.”

That got another hand involved— it ripped Satoru’s hands off their cocks, caught tight around his wrists and pinned them to Sukuna’s chest. A vice, holding Satoru to the flames. It wasn’t just that hand, though. The others were all over him, bruising and deadly. At his thighs, at his ankles. Warm fingers slipped across his chin, his neck, petting across his pulse. A threat. 

Satoru let it happen. He let it all happen. 

“I’ll gag you,” Sukuna began, musing, “take my pleasure on your thighs, and then leave you. Without giving you the cocks you want so dearly. So behave.”

“Okay, that’s a half decent threat,” Satoru admitted, and went lax. Sukuna held him up— held his thighs nice and tight, just to fuck into, held his wrists to a broad chest, held his weight. Satoru didn’t need to do anything. 

He felt used. Held, in flame and madness. 

“Ah,” Sukuna breathed, and it sounded more satisfied than any hunger, “you did it again.”

“Did what?”

“Relaxed.” 

Satoru blinked. 

“Seriously?”

Sukuna pet across his neck again, fingers purposeful. Smug, Satoru thought, but more than that. Much more. 

“Now,” Sukuna purred, squeezing his wrists until they creaked, “we can get started.”

Satoru laughed. “Do your worst, big guy.”

Sukuna came between his thighs, just as threatened. Satoru was a little bitter about it. He was also so turned on that it felt like he’d been seared with it— desire, hunger, a wide-eyed and pliant ache. His cock was throbbing, his body was bruised, and his thighs were stained with cum, dripping and dripping and—

Sukuna let out a satisfied noise, cocks twitching one last time, one last kick across his skin.

Satoru licked his lips.

“You look good like that,” he said, feeling wild. 

“Oh?” There was a curious look, under the bliss. Satoru liked it. “Tell me, how do I look, Satoru?”

“You get this tension in your jaw,” Satoru mused, and tugged a hand free to trace it, “and your blood starts really pumping. So does your cursed energy, it flows like fire toward your cocks. Burning coals start here,” he pressed down, from the curve of muscle above the heart, “to here,” and traced down, over warm skin to the belly and its mouth, “and all the way down.” Satoru rubbed his thumb across Sukuna’s cocks, felt them twitch, soft as they were. He smirked. “It’s a little addicting to watch.” 

Sukuna stared down, eyes dark. “…you watch closely.”

Satoru snorted. “And you don’t? You never look away from me.”

“Why would I look away from what’s mine?” 

“You shouldn’t,” Satoru said, and it was a wild thing, he was a wild thing. “But really,” he complained, “you’re the one who didn’t want me looking away. Don’t complain when I watch you cum.” 

Twenty fingers tightened, across his skin. Satoru let out a pleased little breath, grinning. He’d have twenty bruises to press in the morning. 

“I have to say,” Sukuna drawled, and it was thick and musing, “I’m astounded by how obedient you can be.”

“When I want to be,” Satoru corrected, grinning. 

“When you want to be,” Sukuna agreed, and oh, that was—

“Finally,” Satoru groaned, lifting his legs higher, letting Sukuna force his way deeper. “I thought I was going to die of old age before I got a taste of you again.”

“You won’t,” Sukuna promised, and sunk in to the hilt. 

Sukuna fucked him loose and sloppy, filling him up with a load of cum and staying there, hard, filling, satisfying as the cocks on his thighs hadn’t been. That mouth across Sukuna’s belly opened up and sucked Satoru’s cock until he nearly screamed, too. 

He came in Sukuna’s stomach, and Sukuna kept fucking into his. It felt poetic. 

Satoru put a hand across his stomach, feeling every thrust as flame against his fingers, licking at him, changing him. Feeling the bulge a cock left in him was new. Probably bad, but really, Satoru thought it was glorious. 

He pressed down. 

Sukuna made a noise like cracking bone. Satoru wanted more. 

He traced his fingers around the shape of Sukuna’s cock, feeling the way his skin shifted with each thrust. It probably should have killed him. Would have, if he hadn’t had cursed energy pooling across the matrix of his skin, strengthening and healing at once. Satoru wasn’t just a man. He hadn’t been for a long time. 

He didn’t need to be, with Sukuna. 

“Feeling you in me is so hot.”

It slipped out, breathless. Sukuna paused, one glance between thrusts. 

The King of Curses sunk in again, slowly. Satoru felt it under his fingers, in his body— the space carved out of him for Sukuna. 

He groaned. His cock twitched, soft but spirited. It’d get the memo soon, he was sure. Or Sukuna would force the issue. Satoru was fine with either. 

Sukuna leaned closer, kissing up Satoru’s throat. There was something there. A storm cloud, breaking on the horizon. 

“You know,” breathed into his ear, hot, “I knew of a sorcerer that could impregnate men. It was part of his technique.”

Satoru made a noise like a gutting. 

Sukuna laughed. It wasn’t a kind sound. 

“You want it,” he drawled.

“Yeah, maybe I do,” Satoru admitted, breathless. He didn’t know if it was true for real, or true for fucking, and he really didn’t care. 

Truth or contingent truth, it didn’t matter. It still got Sukuna to plaster himself against Satoru’s chest like any air that came between them was put to the chopping block. 

In the womb of Satoru’s throat, Sukuna said, “you look swollen already, Satoru. Maybe I really can fuck a child into this divine body of yours. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Pathetic. A god, and yet so eager to make yourself useless with children.” 

Satoru groaned into something like a laugh. It was breathy, rasping. There wasn’t a lot of room left in him for air. For anything but Sukuna and that cock, really. 

“You should be honored, then,” he panted, staring at Sukuna with six eyes, “that I might let you.”

And that snapped something, between them. A thread Satoru hadn’t known was smoldering. 

Sukuna growled, bruised him with four hands, and fucked him like a beast. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

“So,” Satoru began, lounging across the warmth of Sukuna’s chest, “are we finally talking about the breeding kink?”

Sukuna sighed. “It pleases you, doesn’t it?” 

“It does,” Satoru agreed, “but you didn’t seem that keen on playing along. What changed?”

“A whim. I decided to indulge you. Don’t make me change my mind.” 

That sounded like a half truth if Satoru had ever heard one. But still, it was a truth. Satoru wouldn’t push that particular answer. He wanted the dirty talk to keep coming, after all. 

That didn’t mean he was going to drop it. 

“That sorcerer you mentioned— that power sounds freaky.” 

“It was. He was stronger the more children he had. The stronger the brats, the better, too. His fighting style was disgusting,” Sukuna sneered, and then, with steady, guarded eyes, “why ask? Are you seriously interested in being bred?”

“No idea,” Satoru admitted, and it was true. No need to do that soul searching now, anyway. “I was more curious how you knew about his power.”

There was an amused sound. “Oh, he came after me, of course. The fool thought he could beat me and then fuck me.” 

Satoru barked a laugh. “What an idiot. Still, he picked the right man. No one more powerful than you. Until me, at least.” 

“And no one more likely to kill him.”

Satoru smirked. He shifted, against Sukuna. Fucked open and happy about it. 

“What about you?”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “Mm?” 

Satoru grinned, with teeth. “You know, kids. Little mixed brats between you and me, honor and disgrace all at once. You want them?” 

“Just how desperate are you to bear my whelps? I’m starting to lose count of how many times you’ve asked for that, Satoru,” Sukuna drawled, matching teeth with teeth. 

“Keep deflecting and I’ll start thinking I’ve hit a soft spot.” 

Sukuna shrugged. It didn’t look as nonchalant as he probably wanted. 

“Children are weak. A waste of time.”

“So? Most people are weak.” 

An incredulous noise. “Are you trying to convince me into children?” 

“Cute, but no. Well?” 

“Similar as we are, Satoru, we aren’t the same. I have no interest in raising flowers.”

“Not sure I believe that,” Satoru said. “You took in Uraume, didn’t you?” 

“Don’t mistake practicality for sentiment,” Sukuna drawled, but it was clipped, not smooth. “Their technique is useful, and their cooking is excellent. They proved worth keeping around.” 

“They’re yours,” Satoru countered. “You just don’t like admitting that.”

“They belong to me,” Sukuna agreed, and it was a sharp thing. “That isn’t sentiment.”

“Isn’t it? Don’t I belong to you too?” 

Sukuna bared his teeth. He looked angry, in that cold way of his. Satoru hadn’t seen it in a while. 

“Don’t bait me, brat.”

“Oh, are we back to brat now? Have I struck a nerve?” 

Sukuna grabbed his chin. The grip was tight. Bruising. Satoru let it land. 

“You are mine,” Sukuna growled, “in a way no one else is or ever will be. You are my equal, Satoru. I won’t have you pretending anyone— Uraume, Megumi, one of your flowers, even our children— can compare.”

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

Sukuna fucked him for hours, that night. Satoru let him. 

It was good. It always was, with Sukuna, a heady mix of force and pleasure. Satoru really did feel hungry for it— the way Sukuna carved a place into his body and stayed there, the cum he left behind, the heat of it all. Sex with Sukuna was a feast for the eaten, and Satoru was pleased to be a meal. 

At the end, Sukuna let him sprawl across the warmth of a cursed chest. 

Satoru reached out to trace the tattoos. Sukuna crushed his wrist in a hand. 

Well, then. 

Satoru healed his wrist, coated it in a thick layer of limitless, and kept touching. Sukuna stared at him with a snarl like ice, and crushed it again. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

Satoru decided to make a habit of it, after that. Sukuna didn’t like that much. Satoru didn’t care. 

They didn’t talk about it, but Sukuna let it last a little longer every day. By seconds, but hey, seconds counted. 

Satoru knew there was something in him, too. A pliant beast, tame for Sukuna. He wouldn’t have minded talking about it, but he wasn’t the King of Curses. In a show of extreme patience, Satoru would wait for his equal to get the memo. 

Probably. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

“Speaking of Megumi,” Satoru began, a few days later. 

Sukuna cut in with the barest hint of a smirk. “I know where your line is, Satoru.”

“Good boy,” Satoru purred. 

“You’ll pay for that,” came like fire, and then, “but I’m curious,” Sukuna continued, four eyes burning. “What would you do if I crossed it?”

Satoru stared, unblinking. “I’d make you into fingers again. You’re cute as a cursed object.”

“You wouldn’t break the pact?”

“Only as a last resort,” Satoru admitted. “I don’t really want to live a life without you. Not anymore.” 

Sukuna paused, for a moment. An ember, waiting. 

“It would be boring without you,” he said, and that was the only love Satoru ever needed to hear. He grinned, leaning in for a kiss. Sukuna gave him one, two, a boundless infinity of them, just for Satoru.

After a long eternity, Sukuna pulled away, stepping back. The King of Curses settled in a chair, too many steps away. 

Satoru blinked.

“Oh?”

Sukuna leaned back, settling his chin on the heel of a hand. He looked like a king, sitting there, like the chair was a throne. Maybe it was now, Satoru mused, breathless. Sukuna had a way of making thrones of anything— bones, chairs, rubble. The body of the thing didn’t matter, and neither did the soul. He owned them all.

Just like he owned Satoru.

Satoru tilted his head, grinning. “Is this the revenge? Because that’s a pretty quick turn around, king.” 

“I’ll toy with you when it pleases me. Now strip,” Sukuna ordered, and so Satoru did. There was a laugh. Dark, nearly mocking, entirely hungry. 

“Good boy.”

Satoru shivered.

“You don’t even like me obedient,” he complained. 

“Making Gojō Satoru squirm for me is satisfying,” Sukuna smirked. “And you like it, don’t you, pretty thing? It gets you desperate.”

“Oh yeah,” Satoru agreed, raspy, “it really does.” 

“Come here, Satoru,” Sukuna purred, and yeah, Satoru was fine with indulging him. Wanted to, even. 

He stepped closer. 

“Fine, big guy. But you better know how much I’m giving you here.”

“I own you,” Sukuna said, and put four hands on Satoru’s skin. “You have nothing left to give.” 

“I’m sure I can think of a few things.” 

“Nothing I can’t take,” Sukuna drawled, and then, “kneel, Satoru.”

Satoru did, grinning. Four hands guided him down. “Oh? Do I get to suck your cocks now? I think I should start with the bottom one. You neglect it.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes. 

“Shut up and put your mouth to work.”

Satoru reached forward, untying Sukuna’s pants and pulling out two cocks long enough to be blades. Really, they should have been classified as weapons— Special Grade, fit for the King of Curses. But they were all for Satoru, and he didn’t have trouble taking them. 

They were impressive. He lost a second looking at them, feeling their heat. Little tattoos ran around their bases. It was cute. 

“Don’t worry,” he told the bottom one, “I don’t play favorites.”

“Satoru.”

“Mhm?”

“Are you talking to my cocks?” 

“Just the bottom one,” Satoru corrected. “The top one gets enough of my attention already.” 

“You are,” Sukuna began, “an idiot.”

Sukuna finished by pulling Satoru forward onto the bottom cock, sheathing down his throat with a sharp thrust. Satoru didn’t mind. He was laughing about it, actually, for as much laughter as he could manage. 

Sukuna was thick, and the weight of him burned across Satoru’s tongue, hot coals to eat at him, to drown him in the flavor of fire and blood and strength.

Satoru thought he could get drunk off the taste. 

Sukuna came in his mouth, cock kicking pleasantly in his throat. Satoru swallowed it down. It was bitter. Maybe this was a taste Sukuna would have him liking too. He hummed, nearly laughing, and licked at the soft cock in his mouth.

Sukuna did laugh, above him, a little breathless. 

“You’re such a greedy thing, Satoru.”

Satoru pulled off, feeling Sukuna’s grip pet across his hair. 

“You’re worse,” he said, and licked his lips. “Eat more fruit, Sukuna. You taste like ass.” 

“Don’t complain. I eat your ass all the time.” 

“Yeah, but I clean my ass.”

“It’s still ass,” Sukuna drawled, and then Satoru was rearranged, suddenly, pulled off and up. He didn’t fight it.

Two hands held Satoru by the hips, and another two forced him down, backwards, into a heady lean. He arched, weight draped down, hair scrapping the floor, thighs spread, body nestled between the sprawl of Sukuna’s legs, knees snug in the crook of Sukuna’s elbows. The upper set, Satoru noticed. Made for an interesting angle. Both Sukuna’s cocks were pressed against his back, hotter than forge iron. Both hard again. 

If Sukuna let the grip on his hips slip even a little, Satoru’s weight would snap them like pieces of pocky. 

Satoru grinned, mouth open on a groan. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever been fucked in this position before,” he said, feeling blood rush into his head. Would have made him dizzy, if he hadn’t healed it. “Congrats on finding a first time, Sukuna.”

“I’ll have you begging after I’m done,” Sukuna said, nearly musing, and the mouth on his stomach opened like a maw. It was huge, unforgiving. Satoru felt the heat of it brush his balls, the skin of his thighs, his cock. Felt like promise. 

His feet were dangling down.

He flexed his toes. They were cold. “For mercy, or more?”

“More,” Sukuna smirked. “You’d never beg for mercy.”

Satoru laughed, sharp. “Damn straight. Gonna get me nice and wet?”

“Mhm,” Sukuna said, “I’ll have you dripping. Maybe this mouth can even shut you up.”

“It can try.” 

Sukuna did. Sukuna really did. And Satoru had to admit, that tongue was going to come close to shutting him up. That big mouth seemed designed to break him.

It licked, at first. Hot, lazy swipes across Satoru’s ass, dipping right between his cheeks, slick with spit. Again, and again, and again. Satoru was wetter than a cunt before he’d even been fucked, before even one load of cum. 

He blinked, vision upside down, a kaleidoscope around him, and used six eyes to watch Sukuna’s tongue tease at his ass. 

It sunk in all at once. Wriggling and hot and with a wide flare. It was bigger than one cock. Better, in a lot of ways. A cock couldn’t writhe like that, oh, he felt—

“That’s a good sound,” purred above him. “Keep making it.”

Satoru hadn’t realized he was making sounds at all. Strange. He noticed most things. 

“Sukuna—“

“Less talking, Satoru. You sound better whimpering,” Sukuna replied, and the tongue worked its way deeper. 

Satoru really did start whimpering. How novel. 

Sukuna spent a long, indulgent night taking him apart. Satoru shook with it, giddy, licked open until he was breathless, and then fucked until he was loose, load after load of Sukuna’s pleasure left in his body. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

They didn’t talk about the touching, but Satoru fell asleep on Sukuna more often than not. And when Satoru woke up, there were hands cradling him. To be held to the belly of a monster, Satoru mused, should not have been so comforting.

But they were both monsters, weren’t they? Sukuna understood that. Sukuna understood him, in a way no one else did. 

The birth of a star wasn’t just an oppressive crush of gravity. It was the potential for fire. This world was Satoru’s, at least in name. The womb of the blessed, but it was built on the carcass Sukuna had left behind, in death. 

Satoru liked sharing it.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

Days passed. Satoru was craving a fight. The world didn’t give him the time to have one.

He thought it might be about time to force it. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

One day, Sukuna asked, “why is the brat your favorite?”

Satoru didn’t need to ask for details. He knew. He was also curious. 

“A good teacher doesn’t play favorites,” he chirped, and ran a hand across Sukuna’s tattoos. It took longer for the man to grab his wrist, this time. It was taking longer every time. 

Satoru liked that. 

“You’re not a good teacher.” 

Satoru laughed. 

“I want an answer, Satoru,” Sukuna said, and so Satoru answered. 

“Yūji is a good kid.”

Sukuna narrowed his eyes. “That’s not why.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Satoru.”

Satoru laughed. “Yūji has the right mindset to grow.”

“So? He’s weak. He’ll never grow strong enough to match you.”

“One month,” Satoru countered. “It took him one month to get strong enough to be able to survive against you for a minute or two. If he’s given the space to grow, he’ll be great.”

Sukuna was silent for a long time, after that. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

They didn’t talk about the touching, but Satoru let Sukuna close his eyes with a palm. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

Uraume grew on him like ice, walking crystals up in the winter sun. 

Satoru decided he was fine with it. Winter was coming anyway. The cold had been creeping in, day by day, but Satoru hadn’t felt it. Fire burned away the chance at chill.  

“So,” Satoru began one day, looking at Uraume, “are you sleeping on the roof?”

The brat bristled, all cold offense. “It is none of your concern, Gojō-san.”

That wasn’t a no. How annoying. 

“It is now,” Satoru decided, “come on. There’s spare rooms at the school.”

If Sukuna wouldn’t take care of his icy little flower, Satoru would.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

His students blossomed, slowly, over the days. Megumi was more driven— and worried, too, but Satoru was ignoring that. Yūji was happier, and eager to grow. Nobara grinned with more teeth, and learned to shape other metal into nails. The three of them went on missions and came back with skill, and fewer bruises. 

They older students too, were doing well. Flourishing, one by one. A few of them had even survived sparring with Sukuna. Satoru tried not to be jealous about it. 

It had been a few weeks now, hadn’t it?

Satoru had enjoyed them. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

The sex stayed good. 

It was almost surprising, Satoru mused. Most people bored him, after a while. Sukuna never seemed to. The only real issue was that Sukuna wouldn’t fuck him with both cocks. 

Satoru decided to change that. 

“Sukuna,” he said, mid-fuck, panting, “both. Give me both.” 

A laugh, low and dark, and then, “no.”

It burned into his throat, that word. With kisses, with bites, with almost everything Satoru wanted but—

Satoru couldn’t help it. Didn’t want to. He growled. 

Sukuna laughed again. 

“Are you upset? Just because I wouldn’t fill you up with both cocks? The great Gojō Satoru, reduced to whining for a fuck. A slut indeed.” Sukuna shifted, that top cock sinking in deeper. He was relentless with it. He always was. Satoru liked it, liked the way Sukuna fucked him like fucking was all there was to life, like they alone existed, and pleasure was what they existed for. 

He didn’t like the bullshit. 

“Yeah, I’m fucking mad,” Satoru groaned, filled with one cock, and not two. “You into edging, or something? Because we’d both enjoy two cocks, and you could give them to me right now.”

“Not yet,” Sukuna purred, “we haven’t fought yet. I won’t ruin the flavor for a quick fuck.”

Satoru blinked. 

“You were serious?”

“Mhm,” Sukuna hummed, and then fucked Satoru out of words and into moans. 

It was after, when they’d both finished, when Satoru was splayed across the width of Sukuna’s chest and happy about it, that Satoru actually gave it some thought. 

Not until their fight, huh? That was annoying, but not really a problem.

Satoru wanted that fight anyway.

He crooked a finger, dragging his phone to him by the gravity. There was a sound, beneath him. Curiosity from the king. Satoru ignored it. 

He dialed a familiar number. 

“Kinji,” he said, “I need a favor. You’ll like this one.” 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

“— and no bets,” Kinji repeated. It sounded a little sad. 

“Cheer up,” Satoru ordered, pulling his blindfold down. The world was bright before his eyes. It always was these days. “If we do this again, maybe we’ll let you run a real betting ring.” 

“Do you want his eyes gouged out, Satoru?” 

“Don’t be like that, Sukuna. I like showing off.”

“And I don’t share,” Sukuna ended, glancing at Kinji. “Look too closely, boy, and I’ll have your head. Eyes first. I’ll take my time with the rest.”

“He won’t,” Satoru grinned, sharp, “but it’s better if you don’t watch when we get frisky. And don’t interfere, obviously.”

“I know,” Kinji said, dry, “that’s why you called me and not Okkotsu.”

“Well, Yūta’s still a kid.”

“Hardly acts like it. He so damn serious,” and then, “don’t worry, Gojō-sensei. I’ll get high on your fever, and then turn around while you fuck.”

“You can leave, at that point,” Satoru said, dry. “Probably better if you do.” 

“Got it,” came with a lazy salute. 

Sukuna tilted his head. “You’re an interesting one.”

“Come on,” Satoru grinned, and turned away, “fight my students later. You have the main course today.” 

Sukuna chuckled. “So eager.” 

They stepped into the barrier. 

Uraume was waiting for them, just inside. Satoru didn’t let it bug him. 

Actually… it didn’t. Huh. 

“Hey brat,” he greeted, “good work on the barrier.”

“I am honored to assist in preparations for your fight. I will retreat as soon as you begin.” 

“This is strong,” Sukuna said, glancing at it. “Tengen’s work?”

“Yes, Lord Sukuna,” Uraume answered. “It was arranged by Gojō-san.” 

There was a pause. Quiet, for a moment. 

“Oh?” It was for Satoru, that question, those four eyes. He met them with six. “You didn’t tell me.” 

“Would you have cared?”

“No,” Sukuna seemed to decide, “I wouldn’t have.”

He stepped away. They both stepped away, apart. For the first time in days, weeks, they were breathing the same air but not touching. Not close.

“Ready, big guy?”

“Of course,” and then, low, like death in the night, “are you, pretty thing?”

Satoru grinned.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

They fought. It was good. Of course it was good— it was them, alone, under a cold autumn sun. The wind caught at their skin, and the veil kept prying eyes away. Their eyes were only for each other. Four for six, and six for four. 

It was the most playful fight they’d ever had. It was also the longest. 

Satoru dragged Sukuna by the throat, and threw him into a tree. The tree lost. 

Sukuna laughed, rolled out four shoulders, and cut the shirt off Satoru’s back. Satoru let him.

“You still owe me some fire,” Satoru drawled, letting the scraps of fabric fall off his shoulders. 

“I do,” Sukuna agreed, “but have you earned it?”

Satoru bared his teeth. “Have I earned it? You’re such a tease, Sukuna. Stop playing coy and start bringing the heat.”

Oh, that was closer to a smile than a smirk. Satoru watched it. Sukuna let him. 

“You’re staring again, Satoru.” 

There was a certain spark, in the way Sukuna said his name. It was lingered on, mused over, turned and examined like a precious jewel. Owned, by a man easily bored.

Satoru shivered. 

“You know, I really like how you say my name,” he said, instead of answering. “It sounds like you lick it.”

Sukuna laughed, warm, surprised. 

“I’ll make sure to lick you after I’ve won.”

“You better lick me if I win, too.”

“Greedy man,” Sukuna purred, and smiled with teeth. 

Ah, Satoru thought, smiling back. This really was a curse. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

It was a draw. 

Satoru hadn’t expected anything different. They were equals, the two of them. Monsters, born into worlds that had never been ready to hold them. That was fine. They were getting good at holding each other, Satoru thought. 

“Your flames are beautiful,” he said, laying back on the ground. He was tired. Exhausted, really, in the way only fighting Sukuna could do. 

“If you like the look of death.” 

“Maybe I do. Though, really, anything that can hurt me is beautiful,” Satoru answered, and it was true. Strength was mesmerizing. Satoru had rarely seen it. “And you’re the king of that, aren’t you?”

There was a snort. “Are you a butterfly now, Satoru? Drawn to flame?”

“Nope,” Satoru answered, “just to you.” 

“From a weaker man, that would be stupidity,” Sukuna mused. “I’ll allow it, from you.”

“Be still my heart,” Satoru teased, and Sukuna laughed. 

“It won’t. I won’t have you fluttering your wings, pretty thing.”

“Gonna keep them bound?”

“You’ll burn them for me.”

Satoru laughed too. “Cocky king, aren’t you? You’re lucky it looks good on you.” 

Sukuna just smirked. 

The King of Curses was sitting, two eyes blissfully closed, the other two open and staring. His arms matched that pattern— two arms relaxed across his knees, another two pressed against the ground. He was wearing half a kimono, and the thing was in tatters. Not its fault, though— Satoru had blown the other half off, along with a couple arms. The arms had come back. The fabric hadn’t. 

A shame. The red silk was a good look.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Too tired. Too sated. But Satoru was greedy, and he was getting cold. The wind brushed his skin with fingers like ice. 

Satoru would rather have flames. 

He flipped his gravity long enough to make it upright. It took more control than it should have, and got a laugh, dark and amused. 

“Using your technique for that… you must be feeling needy.” 

“Like you weren’t about to grab me by the ankle and drag me closer. Besides, why wait to be near you?” Satoru answered, and took a few steps to land in Sukuna’s lap.

Sukuna caught him. Satoru had trusted that he would. Of course, tired as they both were, Satoru’s weight sent them tumbling, overbalancing Sukuna backwards. 

They landed in the dirt.

“Satoru,” hissed out, annoyed. 

Satoru just started laughing. 

“You are insufferable.”

“You love it,” Satoru purred, closing his eyes. It was relaxing, laying across Sukuna. “I’d take us to a bed, but I think I’d leave some pieces behind if I tried to teleport us right now.”

“How pathetic,” Sukuna mocked. It caught on the sound of a smile, sharp and pleased at the edges. Took a lot of the punch out of it, Satoru thought. Made it downright soft. 

“Nah, I just gave everything to the fight. Not going to complain about that, are you?”

“Never,” Sukuna said, simply, “but I will complain if it takes you hours to spread your legs. I want to fuck you.”

“Way ahead of you,” Satoru chirped, “they’re already spread around you, big guy.”

“Mm. This will do for now. But after I’m done opening you up, I want you on hands and knees.”

“Big talk for someone who hasn’t even got a finger in me yet.”

Sukuna fixed that quickly enough, dicing his clothes to ribbons and then licking him open. With the big tongue, too— two hands were steady under Satoru’s ass, holding him up enough for the tongue to get to work. And work it did, licking and licking and licking until Satoru’s hole was dripping and his body was wound tight with pleasure. 

Satoru panted, high on the feeling. High on the fight, too. He felt a little recovered, a little less tired. Sukuna must be getting more energy too.

Good. 

“Has anyone else taken both at once?”

“Yes,” Sukuna answered, and sunk a few fingers in beside his tongue. Satoru’s thighs started shaking. “Disappointed? Too bad. You aren’t the first cock hungry sorcerer I’ve bedded.”

“Like that matters,” Satoru groaned, caught on a gasp. “I’m the best one you’ll ever have. And the last one.” 

“As long as you don’t bore me,” Sukuna agreed, and bent his fingers at the knuckle. Satoru did gasp, then, loud and whining. It was like Sukuna was beckoning him from the inside, now. Two fingers crooking for a king, carving right into Satoru’s body. 

“The others— any of them live through it?” 

“Most,” Sukuna smirked. “Sorcerers of the golden age were sturdier than the ones now.” 

“So, I have competition,” Satoru said, spreading his thighs a little wider, rocking forward. His cock drew a slick line across Sukuna’s chest, and his fingers sunk into that flush of hair, bruising on the back of Sukuna’s neck. Pink was a cute color for the king of curses. Satoru would have to tell Sukuna sometime. 

“You don’t,” Sukuna drawled, and then the tongue pulled out. The fingers stayed, spreading like Satoru’s body was a toy to play with. “You’re dripping more than a woman.” 

“That’s a skill issue. You should have cunts gushing, not dripping.”

Sukuna just laughed. “Your mistake is thinking that I cared. Blood and slick serve the same end.”

“Ouch,” Satoru said, bright, “sounds like you used to be shit at this. How did you get anyone into your bed?”

“Easily,” Sukuna answered. “The urge to be forced down, taken, and left in ruin— that nasty itch is part of what it means to be human. Most people wanted it. The worthy ones, I indulged in. If they pleased me, I left them alive. It didn’t matter if I left them aching, wanting. Their pleasure was secondary, and still, they always came crawling back for more,” a pause, a kiss to his throat, and the hands on his ass squeezed. “You understand, don’t you, Satoru?”

“Their pleasure didn’t matter to you, sure,” Satoru panted, “but mine does.”

Sukuna didn’t respond. The fingers pulled out, slow as licking flame, hooking into him as they went. Satoru sucked in a tight breath, grinning.

“On your knees,” Sukuna ordered. 

“You want me there, you put me there.”

“You’ll go on your own.”

“And why would I do a thing like that?”

“Because these are your reward for the fight,” Sukuna said, pulling out both cocks, “and you’re greedy for them.”

Satoru’s mouth felt dry. 

“Yeah, okay, that’s a good reason.”

Satoru got on his knees. Hands and knees, to be specific, ass out for the king’s cocks. 

Sukuna didn’t keep him waiting. Four hands settled across his skin, heavy. 

“Arch your back, Satoru. This is an invitation.” 

“Yeah, for your cocks,” Satoru chirped, and arched like a whore. “Come on, bottom cock. You and the top are going to take me at the same time tonight. Time to make up with each other.”

“Satoru.”

“What? You neglect it!”

Sukuna sighed like a beleaguered sun setting into clouds. Four hands moved Satoru, put his ass on display and sunk thumbs into his hole. He was held open in that stretch. Kept. 

And then Sukuna pushed in with both cocks. 

Satoru had gotten used to the way his body molded to one— the fresh curve of his stomach, the ache of his spread thighs, the sting of stretch. 

He hadn’t been ready for two. The heads weren’t even all the way in before Satoru’s throat started working like it had something other than air to swallow. 

“Ah,” Satoru said, gasping, “two is a lot.”

Sukuna pressed a few bruises into his hips. 

“Too much for you?”

“That’s such a stupid fucking question.” 

“Is it?” Sukuna shifted, gutting Satoru. “You’re divine, but so am I. I could break you.”

“That sounds dangerously close to asking me to be weak.”

“I’m telling you it’s a choice you could make.”

“Never had that choice before,” Satoru said, and then, “do you want to break me, Sukuna?”

Sukuna didn’t answer. 

“Keep going,” Satoru ordered, shifting, “a little pain isn’t more than I can take.”

“No.”

Satoru blinked, and the stars came into focus. So did Sukuna. 

“No? What do you mean no?” 

“I’ll give you what you’re desperate for. But slow. Careful,” came mocking, “until you’re writhing for it. You don’t flinch at pain,” Sukuna said, nearly matter of fact, “but you whine for pleasure. I’ll make you whine for every piece of me.” 

Satoru laughed, with what little air he had.

“Go for it, big guy,” he dared, and so Sukuna did, working two cocks into him, fraction by fraction, until Satoru was wild with it, impatient. 

It didn’t hurt. 

Oh, it ached, there was no way it couldn’t. One cock had been a stretch. Two was a remaking, forcing Satoru to mold around the shape of them. And Sukuna did force it— two hands controlled the pace, immovable on Satoru’s hips. One more pressed into the arch of his back, making it lewd, and the last one was planted on the ground for support, flexing next to Satoru’s cheek. He could see the tendons work, the strain, the strength, the way the ground gave under Sukuna’s fingers. Satoru could see everything, if he focused enough to look. 

Sukuna wanted this just as much as he did. 

But Sukuna went slow. So slow. Achingly slow. He pinned Satoru to the ground and made him take two cocks at exactly the speed the king chose. The stretch was— unforgivable. Perfect. Satoru had never known anything like it, and didn’t want to live without it. He wanted to force himself down, he wanted to crawl away, he wanted—

He wanted. 

This must be madness. It had to be. And Satoru was mad, always had been, but this—

Satoru wasn’t stopping it. He could have. He had, before. 

“Look at you,” purred above him. “I taught you patience, and you use it for my pleasure. Just like you should,” and then lower, warmer, “what a good little slut.” 

Satoru tried to laugh. It came out like the air after a gutting, punched from lungs by a blade. Satoru had been gutted before. He knew the sound. 

“Yeah,” he managed, feeling wild, mad, undone, “I’m being good for you. Indulging you, just like you keep begging for. So,” and then taunting, he said, “you gonna worship me?”

Sukuna pressed a kiss to his spine. 

“I’m considering it.” 

It was a raw, honest thing. Flame, burning in the night. Satoru heard its echoes.

“Sukuna,” he panted, and ah, yes, a kiss. That’s what he’d wanted. It seemed like Sukuna had wanted it too. 

Sukuna kissed him, mean, hungry, and sunk a little deeper.

It was around the midpoint of the shafts— the thickest part on both cocks— that Satoru really started shaking. It was his legs, a little tremble in his thighs. That would have been fine, really. Satoru had fought through worse, had trained to take worse and keep going. A sword to the throat didn’t stop him. Sukuna’s cocks weren’t going to either. 

No, the issue was his technique. 

It kept trying to go off. 

“Hate to— ah, ah, fuck that’s good—”

Sukuna laughed. It sounded strained. “You have something to say. Tell me.”

Satoru panted, mouth open. Couldn’t really seem to close it. It was probably fine. Another tiny thrust, another jolt up his spine. It would have been fine if it was pain, but it wasn’t pain. It was so much more than pain. 

Limitless crooned at him, a beast trained to the waking. 

Okay, maybe it wasn’t fine. 

“Yeah,” he managed, trembling, “we have a bit of a problem.”

“Oh?”

“My technique isn’t really cooperating,” Satoru admitted, clenching around those cocks. They felt like flame rammed into his body. His thighs were still shaking. “Might go off on you. Can’t tell when. Having trouble stopping it, so don’t be surprised if you’re flung off me.”

There was a pause. The cocks didn’t move, the air didn’t whisper. The world was quiet. 

A hand slid up, from the hollow of his back to his neck. It gripped. Bruised. 

“Relax, Satoru,” Sukuna ordered, and so Satoru did, body going lax. His technique rolled over to show underbelly, stretching in submission. So did he. 

Satoru made a noise. It was small, eaten up by the silence. 

“Well,” Satoru gasped, quiet. Stunned, if he was being honest, “that worked.”

“…it did.”

A thrust, and the cocks sunk a little deeper. Satoru’s breath hitched. So did Sukuna’s. 

Satoru shook, legs trembling. His body felt pliant. Easy. 

“Are we just going to ignore that,” he panted, eyes blinking, obedient, “because I think it makes me want to kill you, and we are trying to— ah, fuck your cocks are annoyingly big— avoid that.”

A hand caught his, fingers tight on his wrist, pulling down, until Satoru’s hand was splayed across his own stomach, Sukuna’s holding him there. He could feel Sukuna’s cocks through himself. They were huge. The curve of his stomach was newly born around them. 

“Sukuna—”

“Your body trusts me to keep you safe. From hurting others, or from being hurt? I wonder.”

“Who cares?” Satoru said, breathy. “It doesn’t explain—”

Sukuna fucked all the way to the hilt. 

Satoru howled. 

It wasn’t a nice sound. Hardly a sound at all, with the way it ripped out of his throat, deep and menacing. It wasn’t pain. It’d never been pain. Satoru felt so good it ached.

Satoru’s fingers twitched. He almost clawed his way in, through his skin, to ease the pressure. Almost gut himself with blunt nails. It was a lot. Two was a lot. Sukuna was a lot. His own pleasure felt stretched to breaking, his cock hard enough to ache but almost removed from him. Satoru could be dripping across the ground and he wasn’t even sure he’d notice. 

He panted, head scraping the ground. The dirt was rough across his forehead. He hadn’t noticed it before. 

Sukuna’s hand was still on his neck. 

“I think I love you,” Satoru managed, “and I’m going to kill you.”

The hand flexed. 

“Love,” Sukuna said, and it was a scornful sound. “You’re not the first person to tell me that. But you— you are above it, Satoru.”

“I’m not. But don’t let it go to your head. It’s not for you.” 

There was something like a growl, at his back. The hand on his throat went tighter, past bruising and into brutal. 

Satoru hissed. 

“I don’t care about your delusions,” Sukuna snapped, “but you are mine. If you feel, it is for me.” 

Satoru shook around two cocks. Clenched down, just a little, and felt them twitch. The stretch was getting— not easier, but more familiar. Satoru thought he could take being remade around Sukuna’s cocks. He thought he wanted to know what it was like to be just this, and nothing else. 

He also had the meanest urge to rip out Sukuna’s eyes. 

“Nah,” he said, “it’s all for me. I’m greedy, remember? Now fuck me before I decide this is over. You’re boring me.”

Sukuna squeezed with all four hands. 

“I decide when we are done.”

“You don’t,” Satoru countered, and felt the surge of domain amplification against his skin. Preparation— for infinity, for limitless, for Satoru. For an escape, and wasn’t it telling that Sukuna expected to be pushed away?

Satoru laughed, a little wild. 

“That’s the wrong prep, Sukuna,” he said, and twisted just enough to point two fingers at Sukuna’s face and get a red charging. It jostled him on those cocks, and made his own twitch into the air, but Satoru didn’t care. 

He was more interested in Sukuna. 

The King of Curses was looking at Satoru with an expression he couldn’t pin. It was anger, yes. Disdain, yes, Sukuna was dripping with it. Lust, obviously. 

But it was more, too. It was more than that. 

Satoru bared his teeth, and let the red get brighter. At this range, Sukuna would be more than bloodied by it. He was balls-deep in Satoru— there would be no dodging Satoru’s technique. It wouldn’t kill him, probably, but it would sure as hell wound him enough to give Satoru an edge. 

“Use azure.”

Satoru stared, unblinking. “Oh?”

“If you’re going to try to kill me, use azure. We die like this,” Sukuna drawled, grinding in a little deeper, “or not at all.”

Satoru blinked. Laughed, just a little. 

“And you got annoyed at my confession? You really are a hypocrite.” 

“This isn’t love.”

“You just said ‘I want to die inside you or never,’ big guy.” Satoru switched red for blue, smirking. The blue was easier to cradle in his hand, so he let it stay there, blooming. Small as he made it, it still pulled Sukuna in. “That sure sounds like love to me.” 

“Love is for the weak,” Sukuna said, following the pull of blue. Four hands moved, shifting, until Satoru was held up by two beneath his chest, his stomach, pulling him tight onto those cocks. Another carved into the ground by his ear, supporting them both, and the last— oh, the last gripped Satoru’s wrist, right beneath the death he was warming for both of them. 

Blue lit their hands in sync. 

Sukuna, too, was there. Chest to back with Satoru, face close enough to kiss, lit by a pale blue light. Satoru found he couldn’t look away. 

“Love,” Sukuna continued, voice a scornful drawl, “is what people use to excuse weakness. They stay their hand, and call it love. They grovel, and call it love. They twist their nature, and call it love.” Sukuna laughed, sharp. “It’s really pitiful. No, Satoru. This isn’t love. It’s hunger.”

Satoru watched with six eyes unblinking, and lifted his other hand. He didn’t need it to stay up now, anyway. Sukuna was holding him steady. 

He charged a red, to match the blue. It was born with sharp, bloody teeth, and a cry like a dying star. Satoru liked it. From the way Sukuna’s breath cut out, he wasn’t the only one. 

“Call it whatever you want,” Satoru said, and let red and blue get closer, warping the air around his fingers. “I know what it is.”

That echoed a little breathy, in the space between them. There wasn’t much. Just a few infinities. 

The air wasn’t blue, anymore. It was nearly purple. 

“Satoru,” Sukuna began, watching him. That was good. Satoru knew exactly what he would have done, if Sukuna’s eyes weren’t on him. What a curse. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to kill us?”

“Thinking about it,” Satoru admitted, and he really was. There’d be something beautiful in dying with Sukuna. “Do you want me to?”

“No,” Sukuna seemed to decide, “not yet.”

And then Sukuna leaned between red and blue, and kissed him. 

Satoru was man enough to admit he melted into it. He let Sukuna pull his hands down too, let the red and blue fade into something more like white. That got a satisfied purr into his mouth, the start of a laugh. 

“You’re so good for me,” Sukuna murmured, somewhere between mocking and marveling. 

Satoru laughed too. 

“Yeah, I’m such a good little slut. How are you going to reward me?”

Sukuna forced Satoru back, so he was properly facing the ground, and then the four hands of the King of Curses got to work. 

One hand kept them both up, flexing at the wrist with a distracting strength. Another burned across his chest, up, to hold him by the throat. A third pet over his thighs, indulgent, and the last was steady around his waist, supporting his weight. Satoru hissed when his cock bounced and brushed against it. He hissed more when Sukuna moved him back, tugging. 

He hadn’t forgotten the cocks inside him— that was impossible, even for him— but their stretch had been pushed a little to the side with the death threats. Satoru reached back, mooring himself in Sukuna’s hair by the hands. It was soft under his fingers. Warm. 

“I’ll have you cum for me first,” Sukuna said, biting the skin of Satoru’s neck. “You’ll feel good clenching around my cocks.”

“I’m on board with that, but you better fuck me after.”

“Oh, I will.” 

Sukuna wrapped a hand around his cock, and squeezed. Satoru let out a hissing little sound. Not a whimper, but definitely something. 

Sukuna stroked him perfectly, of course. They knew each other’s bodies as well as they knew each other, and that was saying something at this point. 

Satoru panted, clenching around the stretch, cock kicking in Sukuna’s fingers. He was filled up and pinned up, weight steady in Sukuna’s arms. 

He tugged at Sukuna’s hair. The king bit him harder. 

“Give me some teeth, big guy.”

Sukuna smirked against his neck, and did just that. Satoru came, owned and held and filled. 

Sukuna didn’t give him the time to relish it. 

Fingers sunk into his mouth, sticky with cum. Satoru laughed, and started licking them clean. 

“Now it’s my turn,” Sukuna drawled, and started to fuck him. Satoru howled again, louder this time. He didn’t stop it. He could have. He could have ripped Sukuna off his back with one infinity, and gutted him with another. Instead, Satoru spread his knees, let his thighs shake, and took what Sukuna gave him. 

He howled. Moaned. Groaned. 

And again, on the thrust, and again and again and—

It lasted a long time. Satoru got hard again, at some point. He reached down to touch and was forced away, hands guided back to Sukuna’s hair, spine arching between burning arms and a smoldering chest. 

“Don’t be greedy,” Sukuna drawled.

“You have four arms, you can spare one to get me off,” Satoru panted, but he kept his hands where they’d been put. 

Sukuna just laughed, and kept fucking him. 

Eventually, Sukuna came in him. There was something brutal about it. It was like seeing the clouds part on a rainy day. Or having the clouds part his legs, and let loose a snowstorm straight into his body. Satoru felt cum leak out of him around Sukuna’s cocks, and then down, dripping down his thighs, staining his skin white. 

It was dizzying. Beautiful. Satoru could have kept Sukuna in him for days, warmed and wanting. 

“Get me off,” Satoru panted, eyes too wild to see, “now. I want it, I want you.”

It took three strokes to get him over the edge this time. Just three. They fucking hurt, and Satoru loved every single one. 

They stayed like that, panting, silent. Sukuna was still holding them up, arm steady. Satoru lost himself in watching it. The flex of cursed muscle, the beads of sweat. He hadn’t thought curses would sweat, but Sukuna was just that little bit man beneath the murder, wasn’t he? It was charming. 

Eventually Satoru shifted.

“We’re not done,” Sukuna warned, before Satoru had done more than shiver. His heat was a promise, more than a threat. 

Satoru grinned. “Good. You owe me a whelp, king.”

Sukuna laughed, and bit his neck. “The honored one, bearing my whelps. Will they even fit in this body of yours?” A disapproving click of the tongue. “You are already this rounded just from my cocks… fucking you when you’re pregnant would be annoying.”

Satoru groaned at the image, cock twitching 

“Didn’t think you’d back down from a challenge.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Sukuna drawled, and it was a little tighter, a little breathier. He still sounded annoyingly put together, considering how he was gutting Satoru with every lazy shift. “I’m just amused to think how best to take you after I’ve made you useless. ”

“I’m sure we can make it work,” Satoru panted. “How did you fill me up this much, anyway? You only have one pair of balls. How do you have that much cum?”

Sukuna snorted. It was rough. Out of breath. A good sound.  

“The virility of youth.”

“You do look good for going on a thousand years. What’s your trick? Cannibalism as skin care?”

Sukuna ignored that, with a tiny puff of breath. Satoru could almost hear the eye roll at his back. Must have been an impressive one. Shame Sukuna only had the four eyes for it. He opened his mouth to say as much and then—

A hand took his, pulling his grip off Sukuna, unmooring him. Sukuna’s hand was warm. Satoru followed its pull down, to his own stomach. Strong fingers guided his palm flat, across his belly, his fingers spread and trembling. 

Satoru knew why. He could feel why, two cocks a curve no one could ignore. 

“You really do like this,” he panted, grinning. The feel of cum inside him was almost hotter than the cocks. He wanted more of that. 

Sukuna didn’t answer. All he said was, “move this hand again and I’ll show you how desperate I can leave you.” 

Satoru laughed, breathy. “Oh, you aren’t playing fair.”

“Fair?” Sukuna chuckled, dark as coals. “The strongest doesn’t need fair.”

“But you’re the only one who could give it to me,” Satoru complained, and that got Sukuna moving again. Satoru moaned, and kept his hand right where it was supposed to be. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

They fucked for a while. Satoru didn’t know how long. He could have checked, but well, he didn’t really want to. It was warm, under Sukuna. A relief from the cold. 

Eventually, they stopped. Satoru got to his feet, took one step, and nearly buckled. 

He whistled. 

“Well done,” he said, grinning. Sukuna smirked right back, showing the barest hint of teeth. 

“Keep walking,” came with a lazy greed, “I like seeing my seed on your thighs.” 

Satoru laughed, and reached back to spread his ass. It didn’t take much— he’d been fucked open enough to ache, gape, and everything in between. Cum was dripping out of him, thick enough to trail across his skin. He had been claimed, in skin and soul, and this was his devouring. 

Fire did not simply burn, after all. 

“Not upset I can still walk?”

Sukuna snorted. “If I wanted you hobbled, I’d just cut off your legs.” 

“We both know that wouldn’t last,” Satoru chirped. “Next time, put more effort into it, big guy.”

Sukuna laughed.

“No,” came with a smirk, “I like you pliant for me.” 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

They went home, then. Uraume brought them clothes, bowing and leaving them at a respectful distance. For Sukuna’s benefit, Satoru knew, but it was still cute. The clothes were nice. To his taste. They didn’t cover even half the marks Sukuna had left on him. 

That was to his taste too. 

Uraume had arranged a car— how they’d gotten Ijichi’s number, Satoru didn’t know, but it amused the hell out of him. 

Ijichi took one look at the two of them and blushed from head to foot. 

Satoru grinned. 

“Well,” he laughed, “I didn’t think you went that color for anything but Shokō’s compliments.”

That got a whimper. 

“Gojō-san, and uh— Sukuna-san? The, well, ah, the car is—”

“Good man, Ijichi,” Satoru clapped Ijichi on the shoulder, and walked past him. “Come on. Let’s get home.”

Sukuna burned in his wake, smirking. 

⊱ ━━━━.⋅❈⋅.━━━━ ⊰

In the warmth of their bedroom, Satoru sighed. He felt good. Used.

“Fighting you is going to ruin me for anything else,” he complained, falling across the bed. 

“Don’t pretend it hasn’t already,” Sukuna drawled, sitting next to him. The King of Curses was smiling, wide and hot and real. “Our fights are beautiful.”

“Well, if we are ruined together, I think I can live with that.”

Sukuna hummed. He looked thoughtful, leaning next to Satoru. His skin was bare, his arms loose. Tired, as only Satoru could make him. 

It was a good look. 

“I think I’d kill someone if I couldn’t kiss you,” Satoru mused.

“Oh? Who?”

“You, who else?”

Sukuna smirked. “Good. I won’t have you looking elsewhere for your pleasure.” 

“Killing isn’t a pleasure.”

“It can be.”

“It’s boring, Sukuna. Even you find it boring.”

Sukuna didn’t respond.

“Silence is a yes,” Satoru purred. “I’m right, aren’t I? All those promises of slaughter, and you’re bored of it.”

“I have an unending feast. I don’t need smaller meals.” 

“Be still my heart,” Satoru grinned. 

“You use that phrase often. ‘Be still my heart.’ Ironic,” Sukuna drawled, tapping two fingers over Satoru’s chest, “considering you have no say in when this heart of yours goes quiet.” 

“Don’t I? I sold you my life, sure, but the rest? Making my heart race, making it skip a beat,” Satoru grabbed Sukuna’s fingers, and tugged them up, to his mouth. He nipped, one finger at a time, smiling. “That, you have to work for.” 

Sukuna looked at him with sharp eyes. “Haven’t I already won it?”

“Hm. Have you?”

“Don’t you love me?” Sukuna reminded him, with something like a sneer. It didn’t look convincing.

“If we’re talking confessions, big guy, you’ve already lost.”

Satoru reached out, petting over the tattoos. Started at the throat and worked his way down, and down, and down. 

Sukuna’s jaw clenched. A hand snapped out, grabbing Satoru by the wrist. Satoru let it land. 

“Satoru…”

“What? Big bad King of Curses can’t take some tender touches?”

If that jaw got any tighter, Sukuna would have a few broken teeth to heal. That’d be annoying. They were more work than bones. 

“You are relentless,” Sukuna said. It sounded tight. 

“You wouldn’t want me any other way,” Satoru chirped, but he wasn’t done. He couldn’t be. “Come on, Sukuna. You have me going pliant at a word. My body’s well-trained for you, and that’s a little one-sided, don’t you think?” He pressed his fingers down, but not enough to bruise. That would have been an easy out. “I want this. Give it to me before I decide to take it.”

Sukuna scoffed. 

“Have you learned nothing? We don’t ask,” Sukuna said, cold and brutal, “we take.”

“Even from you?”

Sukuna didn’t respond. 

Satoru flexed his hand, felt the heat of Sukuna’s grip. It was tight. Impossible to break for anyone but Satoru. It was the same hand with the string. Both ends of it, actually, bringing red to red. 

Satoru twisted his hand up, let the soft underside of his wrist face the ceiling. Sukuna’s hand moved with him, flexible, immovable. 

Slowly, he brought their hands up to Sukuna’s neck. To the first tattoo, trailing in the shadow of jaw. 

“And what if I want you to offer it anyway? What if, Sukuna, what I want is for you to let me?” 

“Why?”

It was a dark, heavy tone. Flat. 

Satoru smirked. 

“Love,” he chirped, and watched Sukuna’s mouth thin. The King of Curses didn’t look happy. 

“You are above this.”

“So you’ve said. I don’t care.”

“Very well,” Sukuna said, at last. “If you are so desperate to touch me, I’ll allow it.” 

Another hand settled across Satoru’s eyes. Closing them, with a firm touch. 

“Sukuna—”

“Continue.”

It sounded less like an order, and more of an offer. Satoru could have prodded. He could have pushed. 

He didn’t. 

He ran his fingers down, across the tattoos. Tracing them by touch, and not sight. The little burr of raised skin was enough to feel. 

Sukuna was…

“You’re always so warm,” Satoru mused, quiet. 

“So you’ve said,” Sukuna drawled, mocking, and then, “you aren’t.”

It didn’t sound like a question, but Satoru knew it was. 

“Nah,” Satoru said, “I run cold.”

“Good.” 

“Good?”

“More of Gojō Satoru to devour,” Sukuna offered, simply.

Satoru laughed. “I think you mean more of Ryōmen Sukuna to take.”

The hand on Satoru's eyes pressed, claiming. A finger burned across his temple.

“Two things can be true at once.”