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Part of the place, an old hotel in the middle of a busy street, was reshaped with cursed energy—some portions of furniture have a deteriorated appearance, the building has some darker corners despite the light filtering inside. It's eerily calm, a suffocating air reaching anyone who stays for long hours.
Despite the zone around, no one comes here anymore; no civilian has dared to put a foot in since the terrible deaths of others happened, not even rebellious teenagers—unless, well, they were from Jujutsu High.
However, Sukuna wishes he weren't the one his school sent here, much less next to sensei, the man here only to finally determine that Sukuna didn't need the company of his other classmates or teachers for future missions.
Was this seriously happening right now?
It feels like a drug, the start of a euphoric high in his heart rate and the way he notices the tension of his muscles with every step.
He had killed the main curse, but from all the curses he has finished with his bare hands and techniques for as long as he can remember, this one has turned into a pain in the ass. He growls impatiently as he pushes a door open and then another. He ignores the call of his sensei from somewhere in another room. He's upset with himself for having his guard dropped in the last second, right before the curse's shape was extinguished in front of his eyes, sliced after Sukuna's finger snap.
He accidentally inhales something. He barely saw the dust expelled after the curse's death, the peculiar particles exploding upon reaching his nose, but whatever composition it had, it's evident how it affects the human body just like an aphrodisiac would do.
Why the fuck is this happening to him?
“Sukuna?”
Sukuna shakes his head, breathing as deeply as he can while hearing the concern in Itadori-sensei's voice behind him. He can even imagine the golden eyes filled with worry, and ashamed Sukuna only lets out a sharp cracking sound without turning around to see the older man.
“Sukuna…”
“I'm all right! Just fucking go ahead.”
“Hell, no. What hit you?”
“It’s done, isn't it? No more curses around. Just move away and report whatever you want.”
Fuck, he can feel his pants growing too tight now. He fights against the heavy sound of his heart in his ears while his mouth feels dry.
Water. He should drink water and then recover on his own, but he suddenly gets the whiff of a sweet aroma, and from there his mind could only focus on it, weak for the alluring sugary air and weak at the growing heat in his lower stomach. Swallowing and forgetting moving away from Sensei, Sukuna halts his steps while allowing the other to come closer.
“You’re not alright… Let me check. It's toxic, isn't it?”
What a bad idea. And why does Itadori-sensei's voice sound too sweet to him? It just makes him feel unbearably embarrassed.
“Sensei, I’m fucking fine,” Sukuna says when the other is in front of him, but his voice betrays him, almost groaning when a light jolt in his dick reaches the nerves of his mind.
It feels like he needs to muster all his strength to not pull his dick out and jack it off right then and there. No, he wants to use sensei's mouth. He wants to see his face better in the dark of whatever room this is—an office, it seems. A desk beside them. Something like a bookcase behind Sukuna.
He lets out a sharp, short breath—he has dreamed of fucking Sensei, and now, when he inhales that same sweet aroma from before with their closer bodies, it only makes his cock twitch again, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration and sudden pleasure.
“Leave me alone. Now.”
He's taller than his sensei. If Sukuna just leans forward, just a bit, he will tower over the older man, and the mere idea makes him feel a rush of power. It increases the arousal on his cock and messes with all of his strength to not grab his sensei's collar and pin him against any other surface. To push him down and get a taste of the sugary scent.
Would sensei fight back? Would he hit Sukuna? What can Sukuna tell him so he turns around?
He can't think of anything reasonable to say when he leans back against the furniture behind him, his back resting on it while he can't stop groaning from this strange arousal, his legs almost giving out as he palms the bulge in his pants, now much more prominent than a second before.
He closes his eyes, too conscious of his company but nothing stops his fingers from tracing the shape of his clothed erection. Does sensei know of this type of attack from curses? It's so low, so stupid. It doesn't make much sense—apart from disorienting a victim—to serve as a efficent way to kill them.
So, does sensei understand what's happening?
“Hey… Talk to me.”
The worrying voice doesn't matter the moment Sukuna can't wait any longer and his hand just disappears under the rim of his uniform pants and his underwear, hissing when the sensible skin is touched, tip wet and swollen. The precum makes it easier to start stroking himself, and as he keeps moving his palm and fingers, Sukuna doesn’t allow himself to open his eyes. He hears, though, the light gasp of Itadori-sensei—Sukuna absorbs it to his own pleasure, his horny brain not realizing this act is beyond normal. Sukuna only keeps pumping himself faster, seeking a climax that can end everything all at once.
He throws his head back against a wooden edge, his cock twitching while he lets out a deep moan. For a moment, he hears the shuffle of shoes and a light breeze—the space in front of him is less warm. Maybe sensei is stepping back. Maybe the man has finally understood the terrible mistake of disregarding Sukuna's words, realization setting in—his presence not necessarily for a biological reaction.
Nevertheless, whether Itadori-sensei stays or not, the aphrodisiac is taking over each of Sukuna's senses, and he continues masturbating himself, feeling the need to pull down his clothes and thrust forward into his own grip as if his life would depend on it. He pictures his sensei's face. He imagines letting the man plainly see how achingly hard he is, how much it's leaking from his tip.
“Shit.” The word is a light brush against Sukuna, and the sorcerer student is aware once more of the physical presence of his sensei. Sukuna pulls his hand out, the motion only bringing him pain. “I… I can’t leave you alone like this.”
Is this kindness or plain stupidity? Is it something more than that? Does Itadori-sensei like to see Sukuna like this?
What a fool. What a stubborn man he is.
“Go. Now,” Sukuna warns again, but his voice is barely a murmur, deep and raspy when he almost comes.
He knows that if sensei stays here, they will regret it. Sensei might hate him afterwards; he might regret staying because Sukuna's mind just wants to fuck. It feels so hot around him; his clothes feel heavier on him.
He's about to fuck sensei and the man doesn't know yet or he doesn't care. How careless of him.
Sukuna takes him—large hands spinning sensei around, holding tight onto his arms and swiftly pushing him against the bookcase, forcing him to face it.
“Sukuna!” Itadori-sensei complains, but Sukuna grabs the back of his pink head, pushing it, a rough, punishing motion. It creates a small sound against the wooden material that Sukuna opts to ignore.
“What, sensei? It looks like you enjoy watching your dear students masturbate, mh? Or do you only want to help me this much?” Sukuna leans down and inhales deeply, his wide chest against his sense's back. The drug has enhanced his senses—it's the only reasonable reason for him to be able to smell the sweet source coming right off from the older man. He leans in until he can nuzzle sensei's pink hair and then his neck, and Sukuna groans because nothing can compare to it.
“That’s—I’ll just—”
This feels good.
So good.
And it's too late for Sukuna.
He starts grinding himself against sensei, all that his mind can care about is to finally come. The friction helps the burning inside him, so he keeps humping sensei's lower back while gripping tightly the other’s arms, searching for the orgasm that his body needs.
Somehow sensei doesn't resist. Perhaps he doesn't know how, or perhaps Sukuna hurt him too hard in the head. However, Sukuna doesn’t stop, and all he cares about is having his way. He's so turned on.
Fuck. The smell and the warmth are so tempting.
“Sensei...” he groans, the sound coming from deep in his throat until his heavy balls are emptying semen inside his underwear. When he finishes, he notices how much it has soaked the fabric. It's not normal—it's too much. It's painful when he can feel his cock pulsing again, the flesh as hard as seconds before against the clothed body of an older man. His cock feels as though he were already inside a warm and wet pussy, and all he can think about is ripping the other's clothes off—to touch his skin and taste it. “I want to fuck you, sensei,” Sukuna can't help but say it aloud. “Would you let me?”
“Wait…” It sounds like a plea, a weak attempt to break free but Sukuna doesn't pay any attention to that. His flesh is hypersensitive, his breathing is shallow but he wants more. He wants to leave marks on his sensei's skin.
He wants to kiss him…
When Sukuna turns him around, his hands are rough on him yet, placing his leg between sensei's, he sees the thin trail of dripping blood on the other's face—from his high cheekbone towards the corner of his left mouth, and when Itadori-sensei doesn't make any attempt to escape, Sukuna tastes his blood, leaning down as he hungrily licks the corner of sensei's lips.
Sweet, delicious, it's only fair in Sukuna's mind to taste more, pressing their lips together quite hard, forcing himself inside until his tongue was licking sensei's and taking in the little gasp of surprise—so it's not an unwelcome assault at all. Not so atrocious as to make him feel sick to sensei's stomach or bite Sukuna’s tongue. Not even trying to push his tongue out of the sweet mouth.
Or perhaps it is just pity from Itadori-sensei, the older man clearly taking note of how Sukuna is breathing even more laboredly than before.
It’s for this same reason that Sukuna breaks the kiss first, ignoring sensei’s soft ‘Wait.’ Instead, one of his hands moves slower, and his mouth presses against the other’s jaw, then his neck. It almost feels romantic, as if they need to make up for lost time, filling Sukuna with some particular emotion, encouraging him—satisfied for the fact that this more experienced man is not fighting him back, doing nothing to stop him from what he needs. It doesn’t take long for Sukuna’s hand to unbuckle his sensei’s pants, but in his mental rush, he can’t be sure who pushed the item down to the middle of sense’s legs. It leaves Itadori-sensei with his underwear revealed in front of one of his students—pastel pink, fuck—and when Sukuna falls to his knees, he hears the shaky and erratic breath, but sensei doesn’t shove him like he should; the grip on Sukuna’s hands is too weak when they fly to the waistband, yanking them down in one rough motion.
Sensei is hard, and Sukuna thinks about stuffing his cock into his mouth, sucking until the man sobs, but as he looks up, maybe the desperation in his eyes reflects how much his cock is throbbing inside his pants—he needs to fuck.
“Turn around,” Sukuna orders, his voice almost ragged. Sensei shakes his head, a sharp intake of breath not letting him speak. But Sukuna’s needs are driving him insane, increasing his feral demand to claim, to dominate. He doesn’t wait to see if his sensei can obey before he grips around his hips, manhandles him, and roughly spins him. But this is Sukuna refusing for this to become painful. His touch is firm, still kneeling behind him, as he instructs, “Bend over a bit. Show me.”
“No, Sukuna… No, we should—”
Sukuna hears his groan as he spreads the round cheeks, his eyes laying on the inviting rim. He lets his hot breath hover over sensei’s hole, tracing fingers around the sensitive skin, inspecting it until he moves forward, licking. He dives in for more, his instincts guiding him in how to devour the other whole, producing saliva to leave the quivering hole all wet and ready, slobbering and trying to make things as slick as he can.
Itadori-sensei’s knees start to shake, and he murmurs ‘No’ over and over, but that’s to be expected. He shouldn’t want this; he shouldn’t be turned on—he’s not the one experiencing the symptoms and consequences of an aphrodisiac curse.
“Pl—please…” Itadori-sensei whines, and his cry is louder when Sukuna presses a thumb against the little entrance, pushing until the digit gets inside, disappearing until the whole finger touches the warm flesh. Itadori-sensei squirms. “Sukuna…”
With sweat dotting his temples, Sukuna adds a second finger, curling it, aware of the little noises of pleasure from Sensei—probably biting the back of his hand to silence his moans, feeling his student’s finger buried knuckle deep, rubbing his prostate—and Sukuna won’t stop touching the man until he comes at least one more time. Soon, just in a few minutes. Sensei is loosening up so well. A third digit inside, although Itadori-sensei refuses to rock down onto his fingers, so Sukuna replaces his fingers with his tongue, fucking it into his hole, and they can blame how nasty the sensation was for Sensei when his next moan is long, his orgasm rushing through him as his body trembles.
“Such a greedy cunt,” Sukuna says, more cruelly than he had wanted. But Sukuna doesn’t slow down, his hands keeping firm on the other as he stands up. His sensei looks back, his knuckles white with the grip he has on the edge of the bookcase. Sukuna reaches a hand up to grab a fistful of pink hair, pulling the man for another kiss, one of his arms moving around sensei’s torso to hold him secure. The older man doesn’t struggle. He lets Sukuna move them a few steps—a door, a bed at the other side. Sukuna let him fall on the bed, following him. Both have his eyes half-lidded, and Sukuna pulls his sensei’s shoes, pants and underwear off. He’s fast on that, doing everything with rough motions—the real thing is about to begin, and sensei isn’t struggling. His aren’t disgusting touches.
Sukuna sits back on his heels, adjusting himself between the other’s legs. The sensation of dried cum is unpleasant, so he reaches behind his clothes and fishes his cock out. Itadori-sensei doesn’t spread his thighs further apart, he doesn’t help Sukuna, but the student moves closer anyway, touching and leaning down until sensei wraps his legs around Sukuna’s hips, never shoving him away.
It’s probable that sensei won’t ever admit it, but he wants it, doesn’t he? With that belief, Sukuna lines himself up to sensei’s hole, at first ineffectively pushing forward but after another try of shoving his length inside, he sees how his sensei’s breath catches in his lungs when his cockhead finally nudges past the narrow entrance. Sukuna groans, hovering over the other, planting his hands at each side of the pink head and pushing a little more—only the half of it. There’s the need to start pounding into him without mercy, but Sukuna waits for one arduous moment. Then he pulls almost completely out, only to ram back into the tight hole, this time getting entirely inside, and the sensation is perfect. Everything unfolds easier then, settling on a rhythm, thrusting into him.
Itadori-sensei murmurs words that sound faintly like Sukuna's name. He moans it over and over, and Sukuna loves it.
“Fuck…!” He groans loudly, no longer caring about giving his sensei time to adjust. He fucks him hard. He can’t help but make himself feel good, so consumed in the intoxication. “You feel perfect, Sensei… Taking me so good.”
"Gods, Sukuna—" Sensei cries, tears spilling down his cheeks. He covers his mouth, pressing one of his palms firmly, muffling his cries, but Sukuna can hear his voice stifled under him. "Yes, please—Don't…!
He speeds up his thrusts, feeling his second climax getting closer. He thrusts with brutal motions, pounding into his sensei.
“Fuck, babydoll,” he dares to say, the sweet word such a contrast with the strong body under him, leaning down to kiss the man for a moment, almost unable to breathe or properly focus on thrusting into him, but when Itadori-sensei’s arms wrap around him, pulling him closer, clinging, breaking the kiss with a cry so Sukuna can pull out and thrust back in over and over, the ravishing rhythm continues and Sukuna feels everything slipping away as final pleasure reaches him. He comes inside him, his cock shooting thick ropes of semen until he can’t choke back a long moan, his arms almost giving out.
He feels sensei’s hole quivering violently, tightening and spasming around him, trying to milk Sukuna dry. Is he trying to keep him inside for as long as he can? It makes Sukuna lean down to rest his forehead against his sensei’s, closing his eyes and reveling in the sensation of the other’s heat.
Everything becomes peaceful, feeling less aggressive in the aftermath of his orgasm, for a moment feeling his head much clearer; however, it only lasts a few minutes before he opens his eyes and his vision flutters around the edges, a new wave of pleasure surging in his guts, the effects of his intoxication once more present—but he’s sure if he pulls out of sensei, he might regain control over himself again. He’s sure. He’ll be able to ignore the sugary scent and use his own curse energy to dispel the traces of external curse in his body.
He can’t stop using sensei but—
He kisses between sensei’s brows, his hips making a light roll against him.
“Fuck—I can’t. Too much, Sukuna…”
But Sukuna ignores the soft voice, cock still inside him, twitching as his large vein swells his whole length once more, filling it with blood.
Itadori-sensei exhales shakily, but Sukuna doesn’t tell him that he feels like he had always belonged under him. Perhaps that’s true, the reason why Itadori-sensei isn’t married yet—years of waiting to finally meet Sukuna, to be claimed like this, with tears still falling from golden eyes and soft kisses that Sukuna never thought he would ever give. Then, as their gazes locked, sensei doesn’t question him about what he wants to keep doing. He doesn’t say anything against Sukuna’s desire of fucking him until his hole and belly are filled to the brim and more with his cum. They don’t say anything about how sensei is letting his student trap him like sweet prey.
Soon, they find themselves joining in hard movements, thrusting in time with each other’s moves, seeking more pleasure.
“Ah! So good!”
“You've got a perfect pussy, babydoll.” This time Sukuna smirks, eyes always on sensei’s face to see his reaction—the man’s mouth gaping open, his golden eyes scrunched shut as Sukuna treats him like that while pounding hard into his insides.
Sukuna comes inside him again after sensei reaches his own climax, massaging sensei’s overstimulated prostate with the fat head of his cock, his cum being pumped inside.
Their heavy breaths are the only sound, no one saying what they should address.
They’re lying on their left side, Sukuna behind him, pulling sensei close against his chest—bare now.
“Are you feeling better?” The question catches Sukuna off guard. He doesn’t respond right away, letting the silence stretch between them until sensei breathes out again. “Shouldn’t we talk about this?”
“Yes. We should,” Sukuna agrees after a pause, shorter this time. “Anything you want to hear me say, Sensei.”
With this admission, the older man turns around to face him, a warm gaze meeting a darker one, a faint smile ghosting across rosy lips, but Sukuna can’t say anything else when he’s being kissed, a hand sliding over his neck. It's slow but filled with hunger, melting into their embrace as their mouths move in perfect synchronicity, tongues intertwining.
It feels like they have all the time they need. It feels like nothing is wrong and nothing else is more important.
After a few seconds, they move apart, but Sukuna still feels fingers curling tighter behind his head, tugging softly at his hair.
“Sensei…”
“Say… say my name.” It's barely a murmur, a plea.
Sukuna breathes it against the other man's cheek, the small cut already healing. “Yūji.”
“Yes. Again.”
“Yūji.”
They kiss again as sensei climbs up to Sukuna, straddling him, fitting so well as Sukuna's hands take hold of the generous junction between the other’s ass and thighs.
There's no more traces of heavy desire in his system, and they should look for a better place, but things have changed, and they want to keep changing them.
Yūji only breaks the kiss to whisper, “Fuck. I won’t ever leave you alone. I will never be able to.”
Sukuna shifts their body, once more between the other’s legs, his sensei opening them wide for him.
They can talk about this after another round.