It's Chesestik 26|she/her| MDNI

You quickly take in his tall, broad silhouette.

Sukuna is standing facing the fire, very close to the flames. His jeans sit low on his hips, a black T-shirt stretched tight across his back, exposing tattooed biceps. One hand is in his pocket, a half-burned cigarette in the other.

He’s smoking, staring thoughtfully into the flames.

You approach on stiff legs. Your heart is pounding somewhere in your throat, making it hard to breathe. You stop a step away from him, but he doesn’t even turn his head.

You have to force out a hoarse:

“Sukuna?”

A couple seconds pass before he slowly, lazily turns his head. Dark eyes slide over your face. He squints slightly, like he’s trying to place where he might’ve seen this trembling little mouse before.

You force a smile that probably looks pathetic and crooked.

“I—” your voice cracks. The music is blasting and you end up mumbling, staring at his Adam’s apple. “This is stupid, but I…”

Sukuna doesn’t hear you.

He pulls the cigarette from his mouth with two fingers, blows smoke to the side, and leans down toward you with a slow push.

So close you feel the heat of his body and the smell of tobacco.

He lets out a rough, questioning “Hm?”

His voice is low and raspy, and something tightens low in your stomach. Goosebumps run along the side of your neck where his warm breath hits.

You flush bright red.

You’re mortified, but at least he… didn’t immediately shove you away or tell you to fuck off without even listening.

How exactly is that supposed to comfort you?

“We have classes together…” you babble quickly, crumpling the edge of your hoodie in your trembling fingers. “If you remember… I just wanted to get to know you better…”

Sukuna’s gaze drops to your hands.

Then back to your eyes.

He stays silent for another thirty seconds, straightening up.

Looking down at you, intensely, without blinking.

Slowly he lifts the cigarette to his lips, takes another drag, and in the firelight you can see the muscles in his tattooed jaw shifting.

Behind you there’s a burst of girls’ laughter. You flinch all over, your shoulders instinctively rising toward your ears, but you don’t dare turn around.

Sukuna notices.

His gaze flicks behind your back for a split second, then returns to your burning face with lazy interest.

“What’d you bet?” he suddenly asks.

“What?” you blink, confused, jerking your frightened gaze up to his face. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“The bet,” he explains patiently, though there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. Sparks from the fire dance in his dark eyes. “Girls love making bets. Like who’s gonna make the first move. Or whether I’ll want to sleep with them.”

He shrugs, lazily flicking ash aside.

“So what was your bet?”

Sparks from the bonfire drift upward behind him.

“I… No!” you blurt out too loudly, shaking your head. “No, I just…” your voice drops to a whisper. You look down at your muddy sneakers. “I lied to them. Said we’re… friends.”

Silence.

Just the crackle of the fire and the distant thump of music.

You can feel his eyes studying your face, your trembling lips, the red tips of your ears.

Why is he even talking to you?

He could’ve just turned away.

Could’ve laughed with them.

Then you hear it.

A low, raspy chuckle. Almost a purr.

Sukuna laughs, and your heart nearly stops before you realize he’s not laughing at you.

Sukuna leans down again, this time so he can see your face properly, catch your gaze glued to the ground.

“Baby, what exactly were you wrong about?” he asks mockingly.

You jerk your head up in surprise and instantly drown in his pupils. They’re black, bottomless, with tiny golden sparks from the fire.

Sukuna studies you closely, taking another drag from his cigarette without breaking eye contact.

You see the way his pupils widen slightly, the way his gaze suddenly drops to how your tongue nervously wets your dry lips.

It lasts only a second.

Something inside your chest knots tight, and heavy warmth spreads low in your stomach.

For a moment it looks like he’s considering something.

His gaze flicks once more to your mouth.

Then Sukuna suddenly moves forward.

His large, rough hands cup your face from both sides. Fingers slide into your hair, gripping, tugging slightly, forcing your head back. The cigarette is still trapped between his fingers somewhere behind your head.

Sukuna crashes into your lips.

He pulls you upward and you obediently rise onto your toes, clutching his T-shirt at his stomach with shaking fingers so you don’t fall.

But you lose your balance anyway.

His tongue pushes between your lips, demanding. The taste is sharp tobacco and something sweet-spicy, intoxicating.

Your whole body tenses, instinctively trying to shrink away, but his grip on the back of your head doesn’t let you. Your fingers only clutch his shirt tighter, wrinkling the fabric.

Sukuna exhales straight into your mouth.

A thick cloud of smoke fills your mouth and you choke on it. Your head spins, sparks swimming in your vision, maybe from the fire, maybe from lack of air.

He deepens the kiss, bumping his forehead against yours and jerking you closer.

You accidentally step on his foot.

Shit.

Sukuna doesn’t even seem to notice. Or maybe he just doesn’t care.

Instead of pulling away, he thrusts his hips forward and your bodies collide tightly.

Your stomach presses against his belt buckle.

You’re kissing for what feels like forever.

Or maybe just a second.

Sukuna pulls away from your lips just as abruptly as he claimed them, but he doesn’t let go. He only loosens his grip slightly, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone.

You stand there, breathing hard, lips parted, still on your toes, still clutching him.

Stunned, you can’t move.

Sukuna leans down again, almost brushing his lips against your ear.

His breath sends shivers racing down your neck, and a sweet, dizzy tension coils low between your thighs.

“Well, kitten. Your little friends are watching,” he mutters hoarsely.

His thumb drags slowly across your swollen lip.

“Now you’ve got something to brag about to them, huh?”

For a second he just looks at you.

Like he’s memorizing something.

His hands finally release your face and he shifts back into his previous stance, still not turning away from you.

Sukuna takes another drag from his cigarette and sends a much rougher, harder look past you.

You slowly turn around, still stunned, temples throbbing from his grip, lips burning. Your knees still feel weak.

Your “new friends” are still standing there.

Their mouths are slightly open.

Shock, disbelief, and something bitter that looks a lot like envy are written across their faces.

They’re not laughing at you anymore.

And Sukuna is still standing right behind you.