Archive of Our Own

This is probably a bad idea.

Scratch that, it is a bad idea, it’s always a bad idea. You’re smart enough to know that, despite what the people at school may think.

You’re smart enough to know the consequences, but that doesn’t stop your hand from reaching into your back pocket and taking out the screwdriver.

Gripping it carefully, you begin to pick the screen door lock on a house that’s miles away from yours; so far it takes almost forty-five minutes to walk there. Opposite edges of town; a nice metaphor.

The screwdriver in your hand clinks against the metal of the door. You grit your teeth and squint. You’ve got a choice, here: you can pick the lock clean and leave no trace, or you can break it. Let everyone know some skunk-rat broke into the house of the richest man in town.

Easy. You pop the lock until it cracks. The door swings behind you, useless.

Silently, you toe off your shoes, holding them in your hand. The inner door is unbarred; that one, he can get away with leaving unlocked for you. You let yourself in like a ghost, shutting the door carefully.

You’ve been here before, you know where to go, creeping through the silent house like a thief. And maybe you are, you’ve thought about taking things. The statues that dot the shelves, the tapestry that covers an entire wall of the living room. You could grab it and run; snatch it from under the watchful eyes of the family portrait opposite the stairs. Two pairs of red eyes and one blue, all boring down at you, recognizing you instantly as a different breed, a different species altogether from the kind of people who can afford a family portrait.

You pass by the breakfront. You think that’s where they keep their silverware, even three spoons would probably cover your family’s rent for a year.

Heh. Three silver spoons; three of the silver spoons that Sukuna was born with in his mouth.

See? You can make clever jokes, you’re not stupid. Everyone at school thinks you’re stone dumb, but you’re just quiet and dirt poor. There’s a difference.

They assume you’re trouble, too, which is also unfair. That’s why Sukuna’s parents, that’s why everyone thinks he should stay away from you. They think you’re corrupting the pretty little rich boy.

As if you could even afford the cigarettes he smokes. He’s corrupted all on his own, you just happen to be there. Everyone assumes it’s your fault.

Unfair. Then again, you’re the one with the screwdriver. But he left the door unlocked. Both guilty, but you both know you’re the one who’ll be punished.

Whatever. People in this town think you and your family are shit anyway. And in a few weeks you’ll graduate high school. Sukuna will learn to take over his father’s business, and you’ll get the fuck out of here for a while. See what else is waiting for you.

Carefully, you climb the stairs, wary of the squeaky floorboards. The cool air of the central AC raises goosebumps on your arms. Another benefit of visiting Sukuna in the dead of night—your family can’t afford air conditioning.

You feel the early-June sweat begin to dry on the back of your neck. Your father’s a handyman, picking up odd jobs for cheap, and your mother works nights at the twenty-four hour convenience store. Means Sukuna gets AC and you wore the same pair of jeans to school for a year straight, until even your mother’s patchwork couldn’t save the cheap fabric.

Whatever. Nothing you could do about it, so you decided not to care. Sukuna didn’t, either; that’s why you like him. Maybe growing up with all that money taught him to see through bullshit. Everybody at school was always ready to kiss his ass and lay out the red carpet. You never did, because why bother? Maybe that’s why he likes you.

Reaching the second floor, you cross to his bedroom door and knock softly. It opens instantly, like he was waiting for you.

“Took you long enough,” he mutters, pulling you inside.

You set your shoes down, arms coming up around his neck, muscle memory. Lightly, you pull him into a kiss.

Sukuna shoves his tongue into your mouth, rough and hot. It always hits you like a Molotov cocktail.

“Had to walk,” you remind him. “My Rolls Royce was in the shop.”

He pinches the skin of your hips, hard enough to make you gasp. “Take your dad’s car,” you suggest. “Pick me up.”

Sukuna wrinkles his nose. “Glued a fucking AirTag to the keys, he’d see where I went.”

You’d get in trouble. You shrug. “You could do it anyway.”

He pulls back, narrowing his eyes. He hates when you take the consequences on the chin.

You think back to the broken lock. You can’t make yourself care anymore. In a month, you’ll be gone.

You’re not sure if Sukuna knows that.

Maybe he does; he pulls you back in and kisses you like he’s trying to keep you. You let yourself lick into his mouth, let him take a hand and knead it into the flesh of your ass.

You follow his motion and press yourself against him, his hardening dick rubbing against your stomach.

He curses, shifting back. “Are you sure?”

You nod slowly. Sukuna seems tense. “Are you sure?”

If he says no, if he wants to stop altogether, you’ll just—leave. Walk out, walk home. Wait for school tomorrow.

He holds your gaze, gives a slow grin. “Yeah. Been thinking about this.”

That makes you blink. “You have?”

He scoffs, hands finding your hips. “‘Course I have, you joking? Ever since you brought it up, couldn’t get through the day without my dick in my hand.”

Sukuna says the last part quickly, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “Have you thought about it?”

You purse your lips. “…yeah.”

“Mmh.” He grins victorious. His eyes get an evil little glimmer. “Since when?”

Your mouth flattens. He raises an eyebrow.

“Since before then,” you admit grudgingly. “Before all…this,” you wave a hand at his bedroom.

Before you started sneaking into his house to make out with him for hours, grinding against him, body spitting out heat so good it surprised you. So good you had to take some of it home.

“Mmh.” Sukuna hums, pleased. “Had a thing for the rich boy?” he goads, moving in close. “Got off on getting him in trouble?”

“Fuck right off,” you gasp as his lips jump to your neck. “As if you’re not about to take my virginity.”

“As if you’re not about to take mine.”

You both stop at that, staring at each other. You want to shrug it off, pretend it’s no big deal, but you suddenly see through your casual front. You’re not too cool for the weight of this, you’re not so slick that your first time is meaningless. It means something.

Being here, being with Sukuna, it means something.

He’s looking at you like he knows that. Maybe he’s known it the whole time, and you’re the idiot.

Breathing hard, you clear your throat. “Did you—” your voice cracks. “Did you get a condom?”

Turning, Sukuna goes to his nightstand and pulls out a box. He hands it to you.

You squint, trying to make out the letters. “‘Magnum?’” you ask with a disbelieving grin. “Someone’s cocky.”

He lets out a huff. “Listen, I did some fucking research, okay?” he says irritably.

“You broke out the measuring stick?” you tease.

“Watch it,” he warns. “We—we fucking need this one, alright?”

“Sukuna,” you start, laughing. “There’s no way—”

“Wanna bet?” he asks, suddenly sly.

That worries you. “Uh, actually—”

“Nah, come feel.” He grabs your wrist, gives you a second to pull away. When you don’t, he tugs you closer, holding your hand over his waistband.

He raises an eyebrow. You take a deep breath and plunge your hand into his boxers.

Only to give a full body jolt. “Holy fuck,” you mutter. He’s right, his dick is fucking huge.

“See?” His voice is so smug. You raise your eyes to his, almost frightened.

“Uh—is this, is this going to work?” you say a little desperately. You’ve barely fingered yourself, the only thing that’s been up there is a tampon.

“What, scared?” he teases. Then he gets a good look at your face and walks it back. “I mean, I think so? I can’t be the only one with a big dick.” He makes a face like he’d like to be.

You let out a deep breath. “Oh—okay.” But you don’t move, hand gone slack around him.

He gives you a smirk. “Wanna do some research?”

Yes. “You’re a fool,” you sigh, pulling your hand out of his pants. “Come on, where’s your phone?”

He gets it off the nightstand. “Where’s yours?”

“It’s my sister’s day with it.” You tug him onto the bed, and he settles in next to you, pulling up google.

Five minutes later, you learn he should finger you, you should probably do it in doggy style, and you won’t come from his dick alone.

The last one annoys him. “Really? I read you could.”

“Where?”

“Reddit.”

“Sub-thread?”

He huffs at you. “‘Is-my-dick-big-enough-to-make-her-cum?’”

That makes you laugh, because it’s so fucking stupid, but it also leaves you…weirdly touched. That he thought of you like that.

“It’s not,” you say snobbishly. “Gonna have to find my clit.”

“You think I can’t?” he says, challenging.

“Pretty rich boys can’t find clits.” You say it like it’s a fact.

He smirks. “Like you’d know. Come on, pants off.”

You both freeze again. The air in the room goes heavy. Your fingers tremble as you pull down your shorts.

Instantly, you’re self-conscious. Your underwear isn’t anything special, just cotton panties you’ve had for ages. But Sukuna stares at them with cartoon-character eyes, looking at your cunt in the dim light like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

It makes you bold. “Alright, pretty boy, put your money where your mouth is,” you instruct, like you’re not shaking, like you’re not suddenly terrified at the thought of someone touching you.

Sukuna reaches out and puts a finger on your clit instantly.

You gape at him. “What the fuck?”

“Am I right?” He presses; starts rubbing his finger back and forth. You squirm, grabbing him by the wrist.

“Oh, I’m right.” He smirks at you, pushing harder. Heat surges, and you let out a gasp.

His hand is bigger than yours, coarser. It feels good, but it also hurts; he’s going too rough.

“Sukuna,” you breathe. “Sukuna, I need it softer.”

He stops immediately. “What…”

You bite your tongue. Be brave. Tell him what you want.

It feels impossible. But Sukuna waits you out, he’s good like that.

Hesitantly, you reach out and draw light circles over the back of his hand. “Like—like that. Lighter.”

He copies the pattern over your underwear, running a finger soft and perfect over your clit. You jolt, arms coming up to squeeze his shoulders.

“Good?” his voice is a low murmur, and it is absolutely gorgeous in the dark.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, really good. Keep going, please.”

“‘Please,’ huh?” he rasps, but he doesn’t stop, keeps tracing your clit with the pad of his finger. He’s propped up on one elbow, now, looking at you. You wonder what he sees.

Sukuna changes his rhythm and you gasp, throwing an arm over your face. Heat strikes you like lightning.

“Still good?” The question guts you; makes you want to pull out your fingernails. You reach out and feel along his abdomen, rubbing your palm over his crotch.

“Fuck.” He spits it into the air between you. The finger on your clit stutters, and your hips chase after it without thought.

“Shit,” you both whisper, staring down wide-eyed. You look up at him and burst into laughter.

“Shut up!” Sukuna hisses frantically, shoving his fingers into your mouth.

It’s the hand that was at your underwear, you realize almost deliriously. A haze fills your mind, and you let out a moan.

Another wide-eyed moment. Sukuna quickly shifts into a smirk. “Oh?” He runs a finger over your teeth, and you choke.

“Hmm, that’s what I love about you,” he snickers, clearly satisfied. “Always keep things interesting.”

He begins to slide his fingers back and forth on your tongue. Both of your hands grip his bicep. Sukuna holds, waiting, and you shove his hand deeper into your mouth.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. You grab his leg and slot it between your own, lining up so that when you rock into him your clit hits his bulge.

His hand grips your jaw. “Fucking—” he cuts off with a snarl as you begin to slide yourself against him.

You’ve done this part before, but it doesn’t change how fucking good it is, how much you make each other light up. And the knowledge that there’s more, that there will be more, sends hot sparks searing through you.

Suddenly, you want nothing to do with the fingers in your mouth. You bite sharply, then pull his hand free. Snaking a hand behind his head, you shove your lips together.

It’s kissing, and it’s familiar, but it’s also—different. Desperate. Like, like there’s an ocean rising, right there on his bed, and your head is the only thing above water. You need to stay afloat, you need to breathe, but you also need to keep your lips pressed to Sukuna’s, or else you’ll die. You need to tread water, but you also need to slide your hands up his shirt.

You do, tattooed skin and muscle revealing itself under your palms. Nothing you haven’t done, nothing you haven’t seen, but it still leaves you breathless.

Sukuna trembles, chest dancing under your hands. You tug at his shirt impatiently and he quickly takes it off, throwing it to the floor.

He puts his hands to your back. “You—”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pulling off your shirt and bra. This, this is new, and you both freeze, staring at each other.

You feel the chill of the AC again, and you shiver. Sukuna jumps, hands reaching for you.

Before he can do anything, before his palms can make contact, your hand darts out and grabs him by the shoulder. Pulling gently, you guide Sukuna to fall on top of you. Hand spread between his shoulder blades, you gently hold his body to you, the endless skin of his chest running wild against yours.

It’s—indescribable. The weight of him, the heat. It shouldn’t be real. Sukuna—Sukuna’s body shouldn’t be capable of this, this electrical storm.

Yours shouldn’t, either. But Sukuna curses above you like it is, hips instinctively rutting into yours. His dick rubs hard against your clit, and you gasp, wrapping your arms around his back and squeezing, keeping him there.

Just when you don’t think it’ll get any better, Sukuna leans down and kisses you. His lips are familiar but rough, stilted and hungry. You reach a hand up to pull at his hair and he moans, new and low and devastating.

It’s dizzying, Sukuna knocks you off-balance. His tongue slides, his hips jerk, and the knowledge of what’s to come kicks you in the teeth.

Then, he pushes himself up on one arm. The other hand slides to your breast, kneads it experimentally, then begins to pinch and play with your nipple.

Your grip on his hair tightens. You gasp, shocked, as his clever fingers move across you.

“You like it?” Sukuna murmurs, voice shaky.

Yes. Heat lances through you, hurtling from your nipple to your core. But breath is hard to come by, so you just nod.

He grins happily, leaning down to lick and suck at your neck.

Your voice pops back. “Where—” you cough. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

Sukuna pulls back to smirk at you. “Porn.”

You choke out a laugh. “You’re watching fucking tit play?”

“All part of the research,” he says smoothly, before leaning down to seal his lips around your nipple and suck.

That drives you crazy like you didn’t think Sukuna could. You squeeze your eyes shut, spit curses under your breath, bend your back into an arch so you can shove yourself further into his teeth. Hot desire digs under your skin and rips through you, so strong you feel your skin will burst.

For a moment, Sukuna freezes. Your hand on the back of his head pushes him into your tits.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, before diving back in, dragging his tongue and teeth over you. You seize, then squirm, holding his head in place like your life depends on it.

It’s so good, until abruptly it isn’t: the sensation is too much, too focused on one area while your cunt is fucking screaming. Sukuna licks again, and discomfort rolls through you.

“Sukuna,” you call quietly. He lets out a rumble, teeth still going at it.

Now the feeling almost gives you the ick. You let go of his hair and pull on his neck. “Sukuna.”

He lifts his head up, panting, eyes-heavy lidded. The sight is incredible.

You clear your throat. “We need to do something else.”

That throttles him. You actually see his throat bob. “You want to—stop.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, no. Just—” you gesture at your tits. “That part.”

Sukuna’s lip quirks. “You seemed like you were having fun,” he goads.

You roll your eyes, face heating up. “Yeah, well—”

“So what should we do?” he interrupts conversationally, looking down at you, eyes wide with faux-concern. You draw in a breath to speak and he flicks at your nipple to make you squirm

You narrow your eyes. Like lightning, you snake your hand down and cup his dick through his shorts.

He tenses above you, hissing, and you smile meanly. “Don’t know why you’re talking like that, got this raging hard-on and nowhere to put it,” you mutter.

“Think I’ve got somewhere to put it,” he gasps, gloating, like his hips aren’t rutting into your hand.

“What, you gonna take out the fleshlight?” you joke, curling your hand around the shape of him. You’re shaking, but you’re sure he doesn’t notice.

Then he reaches down and sets a finger on the back of your hand. It jitters uncontrollably, and he smirks.

“Is that what you’re calling it now?” he asks smoothly, moving his fingers back to your cunt. “My fleshlight?”

“Gross,” you snap. “Don’t ever call my pussy—ungh.”

Sukuna grins, settling his hand comfortably inside your panties and sliding his fingers through your folds. You can feel how wet you are, how the slick clings to him. He finds your clit again, easy, and every pass of his rough skin against it sends a rush of heat soaring stubbornly up your chest. Rising and falling, back and forth like a bow dragging deliberate against the strings of a violin. You tremble, and he grins, satisfied.

Then his expression shifts into something thoughtful. You see the idea occur to him in real time. “Can I spit on it?”

The question throws you. “What?”

“On my fleshlight.” He smirks, but your brain hasn’t caught up. He looks at you, unapologetic. “On your pussy. Saw it in a porno.”

Spit? The thought rattles in your chest, but you don’t want him to see. “You gonna eat it?” you challenge.

Shit. You’re not sure—maybe that was a bad idea.

You size each other up nervously.

“You gonna let me eat it?” he says eventually, eyes trained on your face.

Smart, asking you like that. Are you?

“…yeah.” His face lights up, and it makes you bold. “I’ll let you spit on it, if,” you break out into a grin. “If you can make me come.”

He makes a face. “That’s fucking stupid. The spit is lube, why would I do it after?”

You roll your eyes. “Well, tonight you’re spitting for glory.”

He stares at you. “Idiot.”

“Okay, then don’t do it!” you say, feeling suddenly stupid.

“No, I’m gonna do it,” Sukuna says, like it’s obvious. “I’m just saying, your order of operations is fucked.”

You swallow down a pounding heart. “You seem very confident that you’re going to make me come at all.”

He scoffs easily. “I found your clit in less than a second, I’m going two for two.” He grins. “Come on, open up.”

You freeze, then twitch your thighs open. You don’t—you’re scared to look at him as he carefully pulls back, resting on his knees. It feels—it’s shockingly vulnerable, stretching yourself wide like this. Like you’re, like you’re presenting yourself to him. There’s nowhere for him to look but your cunt.

You look resolutely at the ceiling. You feel his hands hook around the edge of your panties. Skin screaming, you bat his hands away and pull them off yourself.

Mechanically, your thighs part again. You grit your teeth and force them not to shake, bracing for—for whatever’s about to happen.

You’re, suddenly, blindingly afraid of what’s about to happen.

Eyes on the ceiling, braced, waiting. Tensed in—in an anticipation that thrums, that burns and shivers.

Sukuna doesn’t move. Your muscles coil tighter.

Eventually: “Tch.”

You close your eyes. If he’s—if Sukuna’s fucking smirking, if he’s laughing at you, you’re sure you’ll die.

You crane your neck to look at him. Sukuna’s bent low, tucked between your thighs. He isn’t smiling, his face is blank, with something nibbling at the edges. Like he’s waiting, too.

Maybe he is. He’s not touching you at all, you realize, eyes searching your face.

You can leave, you realize with a jolt. You can haul yourself off this bed right now and disappear, if you want.

The thought settles you. You meet Sukuna’s eyes and swallow thickly.

“Come on then, rich boy. Or are you getting cold feet?”

“Am I getting cold feet about putting my tongue on this pussy?” he repeats flatly. “Are you fucking insane?”

Before you can reply, he leans down and flattens tongue against you.

You gasp. It’s—warm. Wet. Intensely strange, the weirdest sensation you’ve ever felt in your life. You’re almost not sure you like it.

Then Sukuna twitches like he’s been kicked. “Holy fuck,” he mutters, then licks furiously, a long drag that paints your cunt from top to bottom.

W—weird. Awesome. You spasm, thighs clenching around his head. Your back arches. Yeah, you like it.

Sukuna jerks again, then grabs you roughly by the ankle. “Come on, put it—” he throws your leg over his shoulder. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he hisses, eyes on your cunt.

You raise an eyebrow, voice shaking. “Sukuna, it’s my fucking pussy.” You’ve gone down there with a mirror, it looks…weird.

Weird, and hairy. Shit, you didn’t even think of that, is he grossed out? Shit, shit—

“Yeah.” Sukuna smirks unabashedly. “And your fucking pussy’s in my face.” He blows a long stream of air over it, and your hips jerk, almost hitting him in the nose. “Yes,” he hisses, like he’s scored a point.

“Inspired by porn, again?” you pant, flailing around for your cool.

“Damn right,” he growls. “Now where’s your fucking clit?”

“It’s—” you actually have no idea how to describe the location.

“I’m not asking you, idiot, I don’t need your damn help,” he huffs.

“Then who are you fucking asking?”

“Reddit. Sub thread, ‘pin-the-tongue-on-the-clit.’” He sets about exploring your folds with the tip of his tongue.

“Ho-ly fuck,” you grit out. It feels so fucking strange, you think, sparks exploding over your skin, heat cutting at your navel. Your hips writhe, your hands grip the sheets.

“Why are you so fucking stupid,” Sukuna mutters. He grabs your hands and shoves them into his hair. “Show some fucking initiative.”

“You’re—you’re the stupid one—ohmygodohmygod—”

“Sure. I’m the stupid one.” Sukuna slides his tongue to the top of your cunt, moving it carefully until—

You jolt, heat piercing through you.

“Jackpot,” he murmurs.

You lean down to glare at him. “You did not just say fucking ‘jackpot’ when you found my—ooohhhh.” His tongue does—something, and your heel over his shoulder thumps against his back.

Sukuna seems dazed by the hit, until he remembers himself. “Ooohhh,” he mimics, laving against the spot, dragging his tongue messily over it again and again.

Heat again, turning you molten. Over and over, hitting you in the gut as he flicks his tongue. Your fingers curl instinctively into his hair, holding tight enough to rip it out.

“Christ, don’t fucking bald me,” Sukuna mutters.

“You put them there,” you remind him. “Don’t complain when I—mmph!” You cram a fist in your mouth to keep from screaming as the rough hot of his tongue runs over you. You feel it sharp, all the way down to your toes. Fuck, it feels so fucking good.

“Huh. Didn’t realize I’d find your ‘shut up’ button,” he says meditatively.

“Shut up,” you growl, trying to get a lid on the—the heat, that’s just—just fucking bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

Then you look down. Like a predator, Sukuna senses your eyes on him and meets them. Eyebrow raised, smirk on. Normal asshole behavior.

Then your eyes dip further. His chin is wet.

Wet.

Slamming your eyes shut, you grab his hair again and shove his face back into your pussy. Your core—your entire body tenses, wound so tight your toes curl.

He licks again. Tighter, tighter. Sukuna’s nose brushes your clit. The pressure expands, cracks, blows through you. You come on his face with a fucking squeak.

Heat rolls through you like a wave, pulling you under; lapping gently. Your skin buzzes, your stomach seizes.

From below: “Did you just fucking ‘squeak?’

You can’t answer, not yet. Sukuna doesn’t let up. “Did my tongue turn you into fucking Mickey Mouse?”

You glare at him. “I came, dipshit.”

That wipes Sukuna’s face blank. “Really?”

You nod carefully.

Then the bastard goes ecstatic. “Damn,” he sucks his teeth and grins. “I’m already two for two, and you’ve barely looked at my cock.”

You growl furiously. It’s gas to his ego. “Bet you can’t even find it,” he goads. “Bet you can’t even make me come.”

You let out an ugly snort, you can’t help it. “Sukuna, we both know you’re going to blow your load the second your teensy little virgin dick gets anywhere near my cunt.”

You expect him to rise to the bait, but he looks up at you angelically. “My virgin tongue did juuuuust fine making you come, or did you lie?”

His grin stills, his eyes turn just a touch serious. The question stands: did you lie?

You could fuck with him. Instead—

“No,” you answer honestly. “Why, you going for clout?”

“Personal pride,” he says easily. He makes to get up, but you use the leg you’ve got hooked over his shoulder to hold him in place.

Sukuna’s hips stutter. You file that away for later.

“You—” he said virgin tongue. “You’ve never done that with anyone else?”

He scoffs. “Christ, no. Who the fuck else would I do this with?”

That slaps you clean across the face. You look down, wide-eyed. He shrugs, taking it in stride.

“Who—who else will let you spit on their pussy?” you say shakily, going for jokes.

His lips twitch; shark smile. “My thoughts exactly.”

Sukuna’s palms hit your thighs, pressing them apart. The look of him, big hands splayed across your skin, makes you shiver. You swing wild to cover for it.

“You jerk off to this?” You work to make your voice teasing. And maybe the swing wasn’t so wild, because Sukuna tenses below you.

It takes the teeth out of your question. “Do you?”

He huffs out a breath, close enough to make you tremble. “Yeah.”

You’re caught on that, for a moment, snared like it’s a hook beneath your chin.

His words dangle awkwardly. You don’t want to say the wrong thing, so you don’t say anything.

Sukuna stares up at you, jaw tight. His eyes are looking for something, you know that much. You try and school your expression into—into whatever it is he wants from you.

You must manage, because his face smooths out; eyes lidded and low. “You gonna let me do it?” His voice is a murmur, a soft challenge.

For a moment, he strikes you stone dumb. Sukuna is so stupidly, absurdly attractive, the kind that floors you with one hit. You always forget he can do that; let his eyes burn down to the coals and his smile go heavy and silence you like he’s slapped his palm over your mouth.

You can’t speak, not with a face like that looking up at you. He clocks it, because he’s an asshole.

“Aw,” he croons meanly. “Got nothing to say?”

You growl, then jolt as his nose hits your clit again. Unfair, he shouldn’t have figured that out so quick.

“You want me to spit on it that bad?” Sukuna says delightedly.

He slides his nose back and forth, and your hips buck helplessly. “I—” You choke. “I don’t care if you—”

“Well, since you don’t care.” Sukuna grins evilly, hoists himself up onto his elbows, and spits.

To be fair, his aim is impeccable. You feel a cold something splat against you, and you can tell by the widening of his eyes that the bullet hit home.

“Fuck,” Sukuna says reverently.

You shift uncomfortably. It—it doesn’t really do anything for you. But Sukuna groans and starts rutting into the mattress. It’s kind of strange, how he works his hips like that, and you watch, fascinated despite yourself.

“Gonna make you come again,” he rasps without warning, then slams his thumb into your clit.

“Ouch!” you hiss desperately, biting back a shriek as you instinctively jerk backwards. “Sukuna, your fucking nail!” He sucks his teeth, adjusts his thumb and keeps at it, swiping over your clit furiously.

“Sukuna.” You whine embarrassingly. You can’t help it, it came on so fast, it’s so much, it’s so fucking much. The heat, the pressure, the feeling of those red eyes boring into yours, it’s so much—

You gasp, thighs twitching around his head, back bowing as you come suddenly.

He keeps at it, working at your clit, and you kick him in the shoulder. “S’too much,” you cry, voice high and needy.

His hand stills. “You come again?”

Shame grips you. Is—is it something to be embarrassed about? That you came so fast?

“Y—yeah,” you mumble, not looking at him.

Silence for a moment. Then—

“Ha.” At first you think he’s laughing at you, and you whip your head up, gripping righteous indignation like a lifeline.

Then your gaze focuses, and you realize Sukuna’s grinning triumphantly. “Fuck, I am so good at this,” he crows gleefully.

You roll your eyes. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Oh, sure. Finding your clit on the first try and making you come twice is beginner’s luck.”

You scowl because you have nothing to say.

His smile grows impossibly wider. “Are you even good at this?” he goads.

That knocks you off-balance, because: are you?

The question settles at your throat. Are you good at this? What if—what if Sukuna’s just infinitely better at sex than you, and you can’t even make him come, and then he doesn’t want to see you anymore, and then—

You cut off the thought before it can take root. “Fuck me and find out,” you snap.

Then you freeze. So does Sukuna.

Fuck me and find out.

Is this—is this really—oh—okay.

You’re a little bit afraid, and you can’t keep it out of your eyes. It might be a trick of the light, but it looks like Sukuna is, too.

Slowly, like he’s afraid of startling the very bed itself, Sukuna rises to his knees, and begins to slide himself over you. Immediately, the thick length of his dick hits your thigh and rubs against it. You gasp; Sukuna grunts quietly.

It’s so—it’s so fucking big—how—how in the fuck are you supposed to—

“Sukuna,” you stop him desperately. He holds in place.

“You—you need to finger me,” you remind him shakily.

“Oh.” He shakes his head with a twitch. “Yeah, okay.” He moves back down, then meets your gaze resolutely, looking at you with tight, narrowed eyes.

His hands don’t move; he doesn’t know what to do. You almost laugh; compared to eating you out, this one feels obvious.

“Just—just put your finger in.”

“That’s it?”

This time you do laugh, just a small huff. “Yeah, I mean—it's not gonna bite you.”

He frowns indignantly, then shoves his finger inside.

“Ouch!” you yell again.

He jumps. “Shit. Did I—”

“Just fucking wait,” you snap, holding stiff until the pain subsides. After a moment, you try to force yourself to relax. “Okay. You can move.”

Experimentally, he wiggles his finger around. You jerk, then frown at him. “Like, out and in.”

He stares at you dubiously.

You stare back. “Haven’t you been researching this?”

“It didn’t come up,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes. “Out of the way,” you mutter, reaching down and pulling his wrist to the side. “Look, like this.”

Gently, you bend your wrist and begin to finger yourself, sliding your longest finger in and out of your cunt. “See? Easy. Primal. Caveman shit.”

You look down at him expectantly. Sukuna isn’t looking at you; he’s got his eyes on your hand, absolutely engrossed by the sight of your fingers.

Something like vinegar hits your tongue, singes at your muscles. It seizes, squirms, you don’t know what to do with it. You move your hand away. “Just—just pretend it’s the dick, Sukuna. Out and in.”

He shakes, comes back to himself and smirks. “If it's the dick, my finger’s gotta be four times bigger.”

“That’s literally the point. That’s why we’re doing this.”

His smirk shows its teeth. “Opening you up to take my massive cock?”

You nearly roll your eyes again, because there’s only one answer. “Yes, Sukuna. Opening me up to—to take your massive cock.”

You make a face. Sukuna chokes back laughter. “That sounded like a porno,” you mutter.

“My dick twitched,” he agrees. “It recognized the call sign.”

“Oh my god.”

He does laugh, this time, then quickly brings his hand back to your cunt.

“Slow,” you tell him quickly. “Or it’ll hurt.”

He clicks his tongue, then carefully pushes his finger back in

It’s—uncomfortable. Much more blunt and awkward than when you do it. Deeper, too, the angle of your wrist can’t get nearly as deep as he can.

It almost hurts, and you grimace. He pulls out immediately.

You glance down. “What?”

He shifts on the bed. “Is it…do you want to stop?” He says it almost begrudgingly.

“Uh. No?”

Sukuna relaxes, but he squints up at you. “Looks like it hurts.”

“Yeah,” you say it like it’s obvious.

“Tch.” He turns his head to the side.

You try and figure out what the fuck he’s thinking. “…keep going,” you say eventually.

He squints at you. You shrug uncomfortably. “I think, it’s just, like—gonna hurt.”

Sukuna brings his hand back to your cunt, pushing a slow finger in. You wince.

He holds, waiting.

“S’okay.” You hook a leg back over his shoulder. “I, uh, did some of my own research,” you admit, shy despite yourself.

He flashes his teeth. “Reddit?”

“No, I asked my cousin, dumbass.” You roll your eyes. “She said it might hurt, that’s normal.”

Sukuna goes quiet, then.

“What?”

He sucks his teeth, then looks at you seriously. “And you still want to do it?”

Oh. “I mean, yeah.” You feel your face heat up. “You—you already made me come.” Your voice shakes. “So.”

He pulls his hand away again. You frown, and he looks at you with narrowed eyes.

You scoff, turning away again. He waits you out.

“And I…I want to know what it feels like,” you mutter.

Your eyes are on the ceiling. He pinches your thigh, and you jolt, glaring down at him.

His gaze is thick and serious. “Me, too,” he admits gruffly, beginning to slide his finger in and out of you. “I want to know what this pussy feels like,” he adds, glancing down at his hand.

That lodges in your throat. For a moment, you think you’ll choke. Sukuna’s looking up at you, measured, like he’s not expecting anything from you.

You give it anyway. “I,” you take a deep breath. “I want to know what you feel like,” you say quietly.

His hand freezes. You tense around it, squeezing your eyes shut. Body coiled, ready to run, waiting for—

Sukuna moves his hand again. He raps his knuckles against your hip until you open your eyes, face pinched, scowling at him.

His face is placid, easy, open. “Me, too.”

Your mouth slackens in shock. He raises an eyebrow. The words hang between you; they glitter.

You can only stand it for a couple of seconds. Then, you ruin it. “You want to know what you feel like?”

Sukuna tsks. “Can’t leave well enough alone,” he mutters under his breath, before raising his voice. “Don’t worry, I know plenty what I feel like.”

He tenses at the admission, but you roll right through it. You weren’t lying, you realize. You want to know what he feels like.

“Here,” you breathe, gesturing at him. “Here, come on—” you grab at his shoulder, and Sukuna takes the hint, moving up the bed so he lies on his side next to you. Deliberately, you move a hand to his crotch, feeling around the outline of him. Sukuna twitches, and when you slip a hand into his boxers, he jerks away from you and wrestles them off, along with his shorts.

The air stills, again. You’re both naked, which is terrifying, but it—levels the playing field. You feel like you’re on more equal footing than you were a few seconds ago, when you were bare and he was hidden.

More equal, but—Sukuna’s naked. Which means you have his dick to contend with.

You shiver as he resettles himself. Terrifying. But also, a cool venture into the unknown.

Curiosity has you leaning forward for a closer look. It’s big, you knew that. Almost a shame, you’re certain his ego spiked the second he grew it. It’s thick, too, mushroom tip ballooning over the shaft.

You inch closer. Is there really a slit at the top, where you can see him jizz? You’d thought that was just a smut thing, but no, look, there it is.

Huh. It’s the first dick you’ve ever seen in person, and it is—it is so fucking odd-looking that you want to examine it all over. Unthinking, you reach out and take it in your hand.

First thought: warm. Like holding a—a warm worm that shakes

Second thought: it shook, what the hell

Third thought: Sukuna shook, what the hell—

And Sukuna did, jolted like your hand was a live wire. You look up at him, startled, only to see him glaring fiercely at the wall, teeth bared, jaw wound tight.

You freeze, unsure of what’s happening. After a moment, he glances down at you. “Just gonna hold it?” He tries to joke, but his voice is sandpaper.

Experimentally, you give it a squeeze. He jumps again.

A kind of heady power fills you. You grin, and you see his throat bob.

You look down again, and a wave of weird dampens your high. You push through it, lifting his dick up to look at the underside.

Is there a vein that runs beneath it? You drag a finger along it, feeling here and there just to see.

“Shit,” Sukuna hisses brutally.

You shiver. Huh. What does the slit feel like?

You walk your hand up to the head, sliding a careful finger over the top. You can feel the slit, you think abstractly, the flesh dips enough that you can dip the tip of your finger inside—

Sukuna gasps, jerks your hand away. You glance up again. He’s panting like an animal, grip on your wrist tight. “You keep doing that,” he says, voice strained, “and I’m gonna finish before I get to fuck you.”

You nod, swallow. The words settle in your gut, heavy and hot.

Carefully, you take him in your hand again, looking up at his face. He nods, exhaling. “Yeah, that’s—yeah.”

Turning back to his pelvis, you lift his dick to squint at his balls. They’re hard to see, you think, and you almost ask him to turn on his flashlight for a better look. They’re heavy; well, actually, are they? They look heavy.

You let go of his cock to cradle his balls. Again, Sukuna jumps. “What are you—fuck.”

He shifts beside you. Eyes on him; he’s got his fist pressed to his forehead, teeth grit. You press in with a thumb, and he bites down on his knuckle, eyes wild.

Wow. You keep your hand where it is, massaging lightly. Your fingertips meet coarse pubic hair that you’d swear is pink. The skin is wrinkly as fuck, and your fingers and palm keep catching on it. Annoying, so you pull back and lick over your hand, hoping to ease the friction.

You recoil instantly. Your hand tastes fucking terrible.

Beside you: “Holy fuck.”

You only get a glimpse of Sukuna’s awestruck, pained expression before he buries his head in your neck. You can feel his hot breath warm your skin.

Stunned, you hold for a moment, before putting your hand back where it was. Sukuna fucking, fucking groans.

Whoa. You’re suddenly overcome by the need to make him—make him fucking scream. Like a woman possessed, you shift downward, bending your head and pressing your mouth against his sack, huffing air onto it.

Sukuna snarls, twitches his hips forward, curls his body around you. You place a hand on his hip; reach out and lick him with your tongue.

Ugh. Dis-gust-ing, and your tongue hooks on his pubic hair. But worth it because Sukuna whines. Whines.

Fucking hell. You lick again, pressing the flat of your tongue into the skin and dragging it up slowly. Sukuna lets out an aborted shout; you realize he’s brought a hand to his mouth so he can bite it.

That makes you twitch, yourself. You could say something, you think, something hot, like “let me hear you.” It’s true, you want to hear it, you want whatever sound he makes, whatever sound you make him make.

Your gut flares. You chicken out.

Instead, you lick again, sour-sweat taste hitting you hard. He jerks, moans, grabs wildly for your hand. “Here, fucking—” he guides it to his dick.

You freeze in shock. Just where does he get off? you think angrily. Christ alive, does this rich boy have balls.

Then you realize they’re in your mouth, and you almost burst out laughing.

Clearly unaware, Sukuna reaches back for your hand. “Wait, I’ll—” he takes your wrist in his hand and licks you from palm to fingertip.

Your brain chokes, your core stumbles. You stare at him dumbly.

Breath coming fast, Sukuna still manages to smirk at you. Rolling your eyes, you bring your hand to his dick and begin to stroke it gently.

“God, yes,” he hisses, hips rutting into your palm. Sukuna’s entire body jolts, moving towards you on instinct.

The sight of him in the dim light from his window nearly blinds you. Tattooed bands on his thighs flexing, lines on his abdomen jumping as you move your hand back and forth. You look up to see his biceps tense, bands popping, and you let yourself go a little crazy.

Leaning back to his crotch, you stretch your mouth wide, as wide as you can go, and take his ballsack in your mouth.

Almost all of it, you can’t quite manage the whole thing, but you lick and suck and jerk your hand on his dick like your life depends on it.

Sukuna nearly shakes himself off the bed. “Holy shit, holy fucking shit, what the ever loving fuck—”

You grin, tongue flicking lightly. Your hand is wet, you realize, slick with what must be pre. Sukuna only lets you go on for another second before he snarls, hauling you up by the back of the neck.

You look at him indignantly. “I was in the middle of something.”

Sukuna stills, then laughs in disbelief. “Fucking obviously, but I was gonna come.”

Pleased heat flares over you. “You liked it.”

“Fucking obviously.” Sukuna pulls in long breaths, squeezing his eyes shut. “What,” he coughs, “what made you do that? You see it somewhere?” He gauges you through his lashes.

“Didn’t see it anywhere. Just pure ingenuity.” You tap the side of your head and grin knowingly. “Some of us are so good we don’t even need to research, we just figure it out in the field.”

He stares at you. “Congrats, you just made my dick soft.” You squeeze it, and he hisses.

“And now we know you like your balls getting played with,” you say happily.

Sukuna laughs grimly. “Save that for future use.”

The air thickens, sours. Future use. Will this happen again?

You look at each other, uncertain.

Sukuna moves first, twitching his hand to your cunt and gently slotting a finger into you.

You gasp, right back in it. “That’s it,” Sukuna mutters, then kisses you, sliding his tongue into your mouth.

You both pull back, grimacing. “You taste like pussy,” you say, gagging. The sharp, acrid taste of yourself fills your mouth.

“You taste like balls,” he coughs.

You size him up. “I’m cleaning the ick off.” Muttering, you lean down and slide your tongue against his shoulder.

Sukuna jolts, rutting into your hand that’s loosely clenched around his dick. Your muscles seize; you lick him again and he gasps.

Experimentally, you bite, and there’s that whine, again. It slips into your blood like adrenaline. Suddenly, you need everyone to know that he made that sound for you, that you dragged it out of him.

The hand on his hip clenches. Frenzied, panting, you move your mouth to his neck and bite, sucking a harsh mark onto his skin. You do it again, high, right under his chin so he can’t cover it up, so everyone who wants the pretty rich boy will know that you got to him first, you, you, you—

He grunts; raking sharp nails down your back. It stings, and you ignore it; or maybe you don’t, maybe that sharp drag spurs you on, because you just snarl and bite harder. His hand moves at your pussy, driving in and out, and it’s another point of pain but soon it’s edged with pleasure, and then it’s more pleasure than pain, and it’s so fucking good—

You gasp, pulling your face from his neck so you can moan and marvel at—at this feeling. Of—of being fucking stabbed with a blunt knife, blunt enough that it doesn’t cut it just presses. Jabs sharply. It shouldn’t feel good but it does, and soon you’re rocking down onto his hand, hips twitching to meet him in a move that’s so good you could die.

Then, Sukuna’s hand stops. You look up at him to protest, but the words melt when you see how wild he looks.

“W—what?”

“I—” Sukuna sucks his teeth, head flicking to the condoms sitting inches away. He looks at you, gaze narrowed.

A moment of dread, but you push it aside. “Y—yeah,” you say unsteadily.

Sukuna freezes, entire body tensed like he’s ready to bolt. Then his hand skitters to the nightstand, fishing a condom out of the box.

The world narrows to the little square of paper between his fingers.

Carefully, Sukuna tears it open, the sound of it echoing through the room.

You swallow, sure he can hear it.

Gently, his fingers pull the condom from the wrapper, dropping the discarded cover on the floor. Then he holds the condom up to his face, squinting.

Your throat unsticks. “What is it?”

“There’s like, a way to do it right,” he mutters. “It has to be facing a certain way, hold on.”

He wipes his hand on his bed sheet, then reaches for his phone, thumbing on the flashlight.

You wince. The light is bright, clinical, and you shy away on instinct.

“I know,” he grunts, “just—”

“No, uh.” You swallow again. “It’s, uh—thank you.”

You grimace. Awkward. But you meant it.

Sukuna throws you a glance, cracks a small smile. Then he takes a deep breath, checks the condom one more time, then settles it over his dick.

You hold your breath. Flashlight still on, he sets his phone on the bed and sets both hands around the condom, painstakingly rolling it down his length.

Wordlessly, you hold his phone, angling the light so he can get a better look.

Sukuna raises his eyebrow. You try to shrug; it’s more like a twitch.

He doesn’t comment. Instead, he keeps going, unfurling the latex down until it sits snug at his base.

Then, Sukuna looks at you; lets his eyes catch. He gives you a half smile that shakes.

“Yeah?”

You nod. He stares at you like he needs you to say it.

You nod again. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” His face flickers, uncertain, before settling into something expectant, waiting for you.

Waiting for you to move, you realize. Right. On all fours. Hesitantly, feeling slightly stupid, you raise yourself up onto your hands and knees.

Exhaling, Sukuna maneuvers himself behind you, kneeling on the bed.

You grimace. You can’t look at him. You feel ridiculous.

Warm hands find your hips. “Fucking christ,” Sukuna whispers.

Now you have to look. You crane your neck; Sukuna is looking at your ass like it’s the new religion, like it’s going to burn him alive.

Something hot wriggles under your skin; makes you soar. You want more of that look, so you arch your back and shake your hips back and forth.

His hands tighten almost painfully. “Don’t—don’t fucking do that or I’ll fucking come right now,” he grits out.

You grin, do it again. His hand cracks against your ass.

Your mouth falls open in shock. The hit stings, burns bright. He’s got a small smirk on, like you caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.

“My bad.” Totally unapologetic.

“Don’t say shit you don’t mean,” you say quickly. Then:

“…you can do it again.”

Sukuna doesn’t waste a second, hand smacking sharp into the meat of your ass. It hurts, but the pain goes right to your navel, sparking like a flint striking stone.

You moan softly, and Sukuna snarls above you. “Fuck this, I need to—”

His hand leaves you, and soon you feel something nudging your entrance.

“Sukuna—” you snake a hand backwards and catch him by the wrist. “Go—can you go slow?”

Your voice trembles. “Yeah,” Sukuna breathes. “You know I—yeah.”

“O—okay.” You turn your head back around. “You can—yeah.”

He digs the heel of his hand into the flesh just above your ass. You reach out and tap his thigh.

Then, he moves, pushing himself into you.

You grunt immediately, muscles of your abdomen clenching brutally. Shit, shit, he’s so fucking big, oh my god, how are you meant to do this? Should you have done this with someone else?

The doubt strips you bare. Should you?

Sukuna holds, hips twitching slightly. “What,” he rasps; you can hear the restraint in his voice. “What’s going on?”

No, you couldn’t have done this with anyone else. It had to be him.

The thought lodges in your throat, becomes a feeling that is huge and inevitable and very, very dangerous.

You try to push it away; it comes back and bites. You talk around it.

“N—nothing,” your voice breaks.

He reaches down, hand finding your jaw comfortingly. “Is it—” he huffs. “Should we stop?”

Stop being so fucking nice, you think angrily. “No.”

He must sense the weird, because his body locks. You sigh, forcing yourself to fucking relax. “I’m good.”

“You su—”

Before he can finish, you push yourself backward, taking him a couple inches further inside you. It feels like you’re pussy’s gonna crack the fuck open, and you hiss.

His hand tightens on your jaw, hard enough to hurt. You wince, and he whips his hand away. A small whimper escapes you.

“Fuck, I didn’t—” Sukuna’s hand returns to your face, cradling it gently.

“I, uh—” you inhale sharply, gritting your teeth. It hurts, the rough drag of him stings, but you want to push through it. “Um,

I—I want to keep going.”

Sukuna turns your head to face him. He looks at you for about a second before clicking his tongue. “Not buying it,” he says flatly.

“No, I do,” your voice is almost angry. “It’s just gonna—it’s gonna hurt, I know that, but I, I want to keep going.”

You swallow harshly. You do, you want to—to see it through.

“Do you want to keep going?” you ask archly, a bite of insecurity closing around your throat.

Sukuna looks at you like you’re stupid. “Are you joking?” he asks in disbelief. “This is—you feel fucking insane.”

You can’t help it, your lips quirk into a small smile. “Yeah?”

He exhales, as if he can’t believe people like you are allowed to procreate. “Yeah, dipshit. This is—this is better than I fucking imagined.”

You can’t resist goading him. “And it’s not even all the way in.”

“And it’s not even all the way in,” he growls, moving his hand back to your hip. “I’m gonna—”

“—yeah.” He thrusts his hips, sinking deeper, splitting you wider. You feel like he’s poking at your stomach.

“How—” you choke down a gasp. “How far now?”

He struggles to catch his breath. “Halfway.”

Halfway? “Sukuna, what the fuck kind of monster dick do you have?” you growl furiously.

He snorts. “Aw, my bad,” he says again.

“Stop lying to me.” You wriggle your hips. “Come on, more—”

His hips snap forward; you blink back tears.

“More?” he rasps.

“You are in my fucking chest,” you garble, “your dick is poking between my ribs.”

Sukuna lets out a shocked laugh. “Is this you getting stupid on my dick?”

“You’ll never make me stupid.” Some smoke detector beeps, tells you that’s a lie.

You can’t take this anymore. “Just—just go until it’s all the way in,” you demand.

He holds. “You sure? There’s a lot—”

“Just do it!” you snap. He stills even further, you can hear him growl at you. You force your tone to soften. “I,” you take a deep breath. “I think it will get better, once—once you’ve gone all the way in.”

You turn your head to catch his eye. His face is uncharacteristically serious; jaw set, eyes trained on yours.

You give him a small smile. “Come on, go.”

He inhales, pushes in with one mean thrust. You may have made a mistake.

Your body screams, cunt fucking burning, blistering around him all the way to your throat. Your arms buckle, and your face hits his sheets. You gather fabric between your teeth and bite down, frantically trying not to shriek.

“Jesus,” Sukuna pants. “Did I kill you?”

You can’t answer. His arm moves, you feel him reach out, and you grab his hand and squeeze bitterly.

“Shit,” he hisses.

“Yeah,” you mumble around the sheet.

He clears his throat. “Should I—”

You dig your nails into his hand. “Just—just give me a second.”

Letting go of his hand, you press both palms into the mattress and pull in sharp, trembling breaths. One after the other, in and out.

Distantly, you register the warmth of his pelvis pressed against you, his thighs leaning into yours. Just from that, just from that little contact, you can feel the whole heat of him, stretching up into his strong body that leans over you, the hands that tentatively rub your back.

That part’s nice, you think, and your body loosens around him.

“Okay, uh. You can move but, uh. I’m gonna stay down here.” You cringe at yourself.

Sukuna barks a laugh, incredulous. “Yeah, please, stay down there. I don’t give a shit, my dick is not on planet Earth right now.”

You snort. “Your dick is inside my pussy.” A stupid line, but it pulls at you.

“And your pussy is not on planet Earth,” he says, dead serious. Strong hands grip your hips, and he cautiously slides himself out a couple inches before thrusting in again.

Your entire body jerks forward, face pushed along the mattress. You grit your teeth and try to hold firm.

“Fuck,” Sukuna laughs under his breath. “Your ass is shaking.”

“Physics,” you stutter.

“Incredible,” he says honestly. He moves again, pulling out just to slam himself forward.

You let out a groan. It still hurts, but your body is getting used to him, each slick slide a little less jolting, a little less painful.

Above you, Sukuna seems to be going stupid.

“Fucking hell, you’re so fucking tight what the fuck.” He picks up the pace, driving himself into you again and again.

You moan, whimper, but you don’t even think he can hear it. “Your ass is so fucking big, fuckfuckfuck you’re so good for me, this pussy is so fucking good holy shit—”

You choke out a laugh. “You take your idiot pills?” you manage weakly, but Sukuna doesn’t seem to even notice. You can’t turn to look at him, every thrust shoves your face deeper into the mattress, but you can hear him just fine, can feel the way his hands shake, his hips stutter. Sukuna’s falling apart.

That hits you in the teeth. Sukuna’s right there, right behind you, falling apart. Just—just from touching you.

That—you have to do something, you can’t just sit with that. His hand is at your hip, you twist your arm and grab him lightly by the wrist. Just, holding onto him.

His hips stutter again. “Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect,” he breathes, and isn’t that just—amazing. Amazing. You feel you could cry.

“So good, so perfect for me,” he continues, “gonna come soon, shit, shit—”

The pain of him has just faded enough for it to feel good, really good. You start anticipating each thrust, body keening and moaning and sending aborted little screams up your throat. Fuck, it hurts; fuck, it feels good, it’s making you delirious.

Delirious enough to tell him so. “Fuck, Sukuna, feels really fucking good,” you whisper.

That, he hears. You let that escape, and his hips stop. You feel his dick twitch inside you.

A hand reaches down and grasps your shoulder. You jerk away on instinct, but he holds fast.

“Nah, c’mon. Let me see.”

There’s glee in his voice, and it scares you. You debate for a moment, before giving in and turning around.

You’re tensed, braced for—for something vicious? You don’t even know. But Sukuna’s face is closer to amazement. He thrusts mildly. You crumple; you moan quietly.

He lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”

“Y-yeah,” you croak.

Then, Sukuna gets mischievous. Holding your gaze, smirking lightly, he puts a hand to your head and gently presses it back down, back into the sheets.

You roll your eyes and let it happen. “Only ‘cause it’s you,” you mutter.

Your eyes squinch shut. You regret saying it immediately, and you want to kick yourself. That, that feels like something he can use against you. Tear it from your chest, fashion it into something sharp, and throw it back in your face.

He wouldn’t even need to fashion it, you realize in horror, it’s plenty sharp all on its own. You begin to panic. Shit. Shit.

Sukuna uses the hand on your head to tap your forehead. “Hey,” he demands, fingertip hitting again and again until you open your eyes.

You’re already scowling. “What?” you snap.

Sukuna looks at you, shakes his head, then grins crookedly. “Lucky me, then.”

Smooth bastard. You feel your chest lighten.

The smirk is back. “Now be a good girl.”

That lands in your gut like a stone. “Not that,” you say on reflex.

Sukuna hesitates, then slaps your ass again.

Heat. “That’s fine,” you say, a little out of breath.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters, sounding slightly undone himself.

Before you can open your mouth, two hands on your hips drag you backward, yanking you flush against him. Sukuna pulls himself out and then snaps forward, fingers holding strong, making your body move with his.

It’s fucking excellent. You both grunt, groan, shake uncontrollably; you can feel Sukuna shake uncontrollably. Just when you think it’s going to be too much, Sukuna loses his rhythm.

“Fuck,” he pants in your ear, “I’m gonna—shit gonna come soon, right now—”

He twitches, body spasming jerkily as he finishes. You wait for him to come down from the high, suddenly exhausted, breath huffing against the sheets.

Eventually, Sukuna leans forward, pressing his forehead into your back. “God almighty,” he mumbles, before pulling out of you.

You make a face as you feel his dick—exit. Weird.

He gets off the bed altogether, hissing lightly as he takes the condom off and throws it in the trash. Then he turns back to the bed and laughs in amazement. “You can—you can move, you know.”

You grimace. Yeah. Body like lead, you stretch your legs out and flop prone onto the mattress.

He snickers. “Freak,” he says, voice like warm water.

“You’re the one who spanked me,” you remind him, then slam your lips shut.

“And you liked it.” Sukuna climbs onto the bed. He settles beside you, then taps your shoulder until you turn to face him. He’s on his side, you’re on your stomach. You look at each other.

“That was wild,” he says with a smirk. A laugh bubbles out of you, and he shows his teeth. “My dick leave you intact?”

You think it over. Your cunt still hurts, even with the absence of him; you might even be sore tomorrow. But the ache is dim and dull, something you can manage.

“I’m okay,” you decide. The heat of his palms, of his touch, has leeched from your skin, and the AC in his room’s pumping. The cold air makes you shiver.

Sukuna notices. “Get closer,” he orders, reaching for you.

Get closer. You let him tug you against his chest. “Furnace boy over here,” you mutter as his body heat slips into you. His abs twitch as he snorts.

You feel yourself go serious. “You—you okay?”

Sukuna pulls back to look at you incredulously. “You joking?” he growls. “I’ve never been fucking better.”

You laugh helplessly. “Furnace boy got his dick wet.”

“Furnace boy got his dick wet,” he agrees. Then his arm settles between your shoulder blades. He squeezes once.

You know what he means. You let your head knock against his chest.

Eventually, Sukuna tips your chin up and kisses you. It’s chaste, quick. You give it back, quick.

He grins. “I gotta wash my dick off, feels gross.” He gets off the bed. “You need the bathroom?”

Your pussy feels wet and sticky. “Uh, yeah, I need to—” you gesture at your crotch. “But—can I?”

Sukuna grimaces. If his parents spot you in the hallway, it would be a shit show. “Probably not,” he agrees. “Here, I’ll be back.”

He disappears for a few minutes. You stare at the ceiling and let the last hour wash over you.

That—Sukuna was—

You rub your eyes fiercely.

The doorknob turns, and Sukuna walks back in with a washcloth in his hands. He hands it to you, and you gently clean yourself off. “What do you—?”

“Give it here.” He puts it carelessly on his nightstand. You eye it warily. Gross.

“Listen, uh.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you want to put your underwear back on?”

Oh. Pragmatic. You wrinkle your nose. “Uh, not really.” But you’re wearing jean shorts. Not preferable for commando.

Sukuna seems to have anticipated the problem. “Wanna wear something of mine?”

You catch a gleam in his eye. “Perv,” you mutter. “Yeah, okay.”

Grinning in satisfaction, Sukuna crosses to his dresser.

“Find something from when you were, like, in utero,” you say, resigned.

“Not my fault puberty hit me hard,” he says easily, rooting around in a drawer.

“But it is my problem,” you grumble.

“Damn right, it is,” he crows. “Here.” He tosses you a pair of basketball shorts; tugs on some boxers. “Tie it tight and roll them the fuck up.”

“‘Roll them the fuck up,’” you mimic. They still come down past your knees.

Sukuna’s lips twitch. “You look ridiculous.”

“It’s this or denim rubbing against my cunt,” you say unhappily. “Poor planning.”

“Think ahead next time,” Sukuna teases.

That punches you in the nose. Next time. Is this happening again?

Across the room, Sukuna’s gone stock-still. Apprehension crosses his face.

You turn and methodically begin to pull on your bra.

“Idiot, I didn’t—” Sukuna crosses the room to put a hand on your waist. “I didn’t mean—”

You step back to pull your shirt over your head. “It’s late,” you say evenly. “I’ve got a long walk back.”

Sukuna opens his mouth, closes it. Inclines his head.

You find your shoes. Sukuna opens the door, and you duck under his arm, stepping carefully into the hallway.

You move first, light as a ghost and twice as out of place. Sukuna follows you, retracing your steps as you climb down the stairs, past the family portrait, out onto the back porch.

You pull on your shoes, crouching. Sukuna stands behind you, half inside the house, half out.

Taking a deep breath, you turn around to face him.

Sukuna looks how you feel, uncertainty hung tight over his shoulders.

The air is silent. Neither of you move. His face fills your eyes.

You cough. Someone has to speak first. “So, uh. I’m gonna, I’m gonna go.”

You hike a thumb over your shoulder. Sukuna exhales, long and low. “Yeah.”

Again, nothing. Dead air.

Someone has to move first.

You turn back to the door, fingers tightening on the handle. “Bye, Sukuna,” you mumble over your shoulder.

“Bye.”

You step outside. The screen door swings shut behind you, broken lock clinking awkwardly.

You don’t make it halfway down the steps before the screen door whistles again. A hand clasps around your arm.

You look over your shoulder. Sukuna’s face could skin a cat. “You broke the lock,” he says flatly.

Feeling caught out, like you did something wrong, you nod.

His nostrils flare. “You always pick it.”

Also true.

Sukuna’s hand on your arm tightens. “Why didn’t you just pick it?”

You don’t have an answer that makes sense. You want your face to be measured, but you think it’s helpless.

He rubs hand over his brow. “You’re such a fucking idiot,” he mutters under his breath. “Stay here. Don’t—don’t fucking leave.”

He gives you a strict look that nails your feet to the ground, then slips into the house. Before you can even consider bolting, he’s back on the porch, jamming his feet into his sneakers.

“Come on,” he growls, leading you to the driveway. “I’m driving you home.”

You see the glint of car keys in his hand, AirTag firmly glued on. “Your dad will know,” you say softly.

“You broke the lock,” he fires back. “Go get in the fucking car.”

Sulking slightly, you open the passenger door and duck inside, shutting the door softly behind you. It’s probably the nicest car you’ll ever sit in, you think warily; the soft leather like butter against your arms.

Sukuna slams his body into the driver’s seat; you can see the restraint in his bicep as he shuts the door. He tips his head down and takes a couple of deep breaths, clearly furious.

“Why do you always get so fucking mad,” you mutter.

Resolutely, face like stone, Sukuna puts the key into the ignition. The engine starts, purrs, and he quickly backs out of the driveway and onto the road.

You stare out the window. Almost an hour if you walk, but Sukuna will reach your parents’ house in fifteen minutes.

You rest your head against the window, breath fogging up the glass.

“You’re leaving,” Sukuna says abruptly. “After we graduate.”

Your eyes dart to him. He’s not looking at you, he’s looking at the road, driving obscenely careful.

“Yeah.” Your voice doesn’t shake, doesn’t give an inch. Yeah, you’re leaving. You have to.

He’d better not ask you why.

He doesn’t. He just says, “where?”

Heh. “D’unno.” You’ll figure it out.

He’d better not call you out on that.

He doesn’t, just nods slowly.

“You’re staying,” you say after a moment.

“Yeah. They got me part-time at the university so I can work with my old man.”

The fancy university, you add in your head. The expensive university.

“Good for you.” It comes out like you mean it, thank god.

He scoffs anyway. “Sure.”

Silence, again. He wants to say something, and you can guess what it is.

“You coming back?”

Right. You close your eyes; you don’t know.

Sukuna catches your hesitation, makes a low sound in his throat. “Maybe,” you answer honestly.

He looks at you then, eyes cheating away from the road. Sukuna’s face is—guarded. Dubious.

You meet his gaze for a moment, then flick your eyes away, glaring out the window. It’s true, or at least, you think it is. You don’t know if you’re coming back.

The car is silent until you get to your house. Sukuna kills the headlights, then the engine. You sit in the dark.

Sukuna clears his throat. “You marked me the fuck up.”

You look over; he’s got the visor down and examines himself in the mirror. “Fucking Christ.”

You see for yourself. The dash throws harsh, LED light over his skin, and he didn’t bother to put on a shirt. You stare for a moment, at the slick lines of his muscles, the dead beauty of his tattoos.

The blush-red splotches that dot his neck. Ringed with teeth.

Something comes over you as you look at them, something that reaches out and takes and plays for keeps. It has you setting a finger against one of them and pressing.

Sukuna jolts, raising his eyebrows. You allow yourself to smile.

Dangerous. The act of giving it, the smile itself. You wear it anyway and let him have it.

He swallows. You feel you’ve been electrocuted.

“Can’t cover this shit up,” he grumbles, but his eyes are glued to your face.

You add something deep to your gaze. “No,” you agree. “Gonna have to wear them to school tomorrow.”

He freezes. Your smile sharpens. You did that.

Sukuna reaches out and gently grabs your jaw. “Let me give you one, then.” He arcs an eyebrow with a smirk. “So everyone knows this was you.”

Your turn to freeze, your turn to tremble. Your fingers dig into his borrowed shorts.

“O—okay.” You nod. He holds your face in both hands and leans forward, tilting your head so he can press a kiss to your neck, just below the hinge of your jaw.

It’s a kiss, for a moment. Then he sucks hard and adds teeth. You shiver violently.

He’s about to stop, you can feel him tense to pull away, but you slide a hand into his hair and keep him there. He smiles, licks over the bite.

You exhale, drop your hand. He leans back to admire his work.

His eyes jump. You press on the mark experimentally with your fingers. “Now everyone will know,” you say. Your hand pulses into a fist.

“Tch.” Sukuna glances back to himself in the mirror. He looks back at you; your one mark to his ten. “Everyone will know you’re a damn freak.”

You smile serenely. That’s okay.

He clicks his tongue, gives you a smirk. You roll your eyes.

Then you glance out the window, looking at your front door. Sukuna clocks it. “You coming back tomorrow?”

You try to hold yourself in place, but your eyes fly to him. Tomorrow night? Are you going back?

Yeah. Yeah, you want to, and you know he wants you to.

“I need to,” you say, realization dawning. “I left my shorts on your bedroom floor.”

“Oh, shit,” Sukuna’s grin unfurls like a flag. “Did you?”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, disarmed enough to smile in disbelief. He did that on purpose?

“So forgetful,” he admonishes, rapping his knuckles on your head.

You grab him by the wrist, grinning outright. “Yeah, dipshit, now I gotta come back tomorrow.”

His arm flexes. “Yeah,” he agrees, “now you gotta come back.”

You share a grin. Sukuna could just give you the shorts at school tomorrow. But you won’t ask him to, and he’ll hold them until you sneak into his house again, until you pick the newly-repaired lock on the screen door and slither into his bedroom and take him for yourself.

Your grip on his wrist tightens. He twists his arm inside it.

You let him go and open the car door. Warm June air floods the car. “Bye, Sukuna.”

One foot outside, and you begin to climb out. “See you tomorrow,” he says quietly.

You turn your head and fuck with him. “At school.” You make it all the way out of the car before Sukuna reaches out and snatches your hand.

“Tch. And after,” he says pointedly.

Your hand grips his. “And after.”

You stay like that, for a moment. Then you let go and shut the door behind you.

Soft humidity envelops you, heat sticking to your armpits, your elbows, between your breasts. Your house swims up in front of you.

You stand still. You feel very far from the cool of his bedroom, the wide expanse of his bed.

Sukuna starts the car. He won’t leave until you’ve made it inside, you know that by now. You hold a moment, wave, and walk up your front steps. Let yourself inside the house, then turn and watch through the window as Sukuna’s taillights fade.

Then you cross to the bathroom. Shut the door, flick on the light, and there it is. Sukuna’s mouth, a purpling mark, right there on your neck.

You stare at it, momentarily stunned. That pretty rich boy wants you.

Then—

Sukuna wants you.

That rings in your bones. Your hands grip the sides of the sink; your forehead hits the glass of the mirror.

You exhale, once, twice. Then you straighten up. Pee, brush your teeth. Switch off the light and walk into your bedroom.

Your younger sister sleeps soundly in the corner. Your bed waits by the window; you carefully climb into it, mindful of the squeaking springs.

You lay back, eyes on the ceiling. You’re still in his shorts. Something cracks through you; you wish you were still in Sukuna’s bed.

You handle that very, very carefully. Worrisome, dangerous.

You’re going back tomorrow night, you remind yourself to quiet the feeling. You are, you’ll be there again.

Will you? You said you would, but—you don’t have to.

You think over—what happened. Think of Sukuna and his hands, covering all of you and swallowing you whole.

Your throat goes tight. Here, in the safety of your room, in the safety of the dark, you can admit this to yourself: you’re glad it was him. You’re really, really glad it was him, you don’t want it to have been anyone else.

You might not want it to be anyone else.

Dangerous. You might need to lock that one down.

Your head lolls to the side, you stare out the window. The moon is high in the sky; it’s almost tomorrow.

It’s almost tomorrow, and then it’ll be tomorrow night, and you’ll walk for forty-five minutes so Sukuna can welcome you into his bed and you can get some of that white lightning. That soft heat that warms you up, even now. That only seems to come from him.

You look out the window. It’s late. It’s almost tomorrow. Soon, you’ll go back.

You roll over, close your eyes. Let sleep take you whenever it’s ready.