#first time]

Kneeling between Clark’s legs, you struggled to visualize the possibility of putting his cock in your mouth. You knew that hypothetically this should be an achievable end, but from where you sat, all signs pointed to the negative. 

“I tried to tell you,” Clark muttered, flushing profusely. 

You rubbed your eyes in partial distress and disbelief like a Looney Tune. They were heavy and somewhat strained from the last hour of Clark having his head between your legs, trying to figure out every way in which you could orgasm from his hands and mouth alone, so eager for his first time pleasing you– and also obviously concealing the fact that he was concerned you wouldn’t ever be prepped enough. As he slumped on the bed before you, scratching his neck nervously while his throbbing tip bounced eagerly against his tummy, you wanted to smack him. 

“Well, not hard enough! Jesus Christ, it’s the size of my forearm! Is that even safe?” 

Clark let out an embarrassed laugh. “Baby, I’m not exactly human, remember? I can’t help it!”

You rested your forehead on his thigh and let out a huff, and his palm raised to pet your hair, brushing it back. “I told you that you don’t have to do this part if you’re not ready. I can stop, I won’t be upset–”

“Not only do I not want to stop, but that would be so unfair,” you sighed, “this is the first time we’ve ever… done this. And you just, like…” You blushed deeper, hiding in his hip. “I definitely need to repay the favor.”

“Are you trying to say, in some stubborn way, that I made you feel so good, it’s got you guilty?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled. 

Clark chuckled softly and grabbed your hands, pulling you up his body and settling you over his thighs. Between you, He sat waiting, aching, twitching. A pretty mauve. “I am going to make an executive decision.”

You pouted, laying your hands on his chest. Shifting a bit awkwardly, you hoped you still looked pretty. It had been so nerve-wracking to let him undress you. To unveil the rolling, boundless flesh of your body, the plum tiger stripes, the hairs, the dimples. It was what kept you afraid of sex for so long. But he kissed every inch like it was his destiny to behold you, in the corniest and most fulfilling way. In the haze, you managed to keep an eye on the clock– Clark spent fifteen minutes simply spoiling you, whispering pretty things into your skin as he ran his hands up and down your body, squeezing, pulling, nipping, licking. You had to remind him that there were more activities available than just admiring you as the painful ache between your thighs grew unbearable.

You hadn’t expected him to be so confident, but clearly you forgot just how well Clark seemed to perform at everything he did. Your heart was in your throat as he coaxed your legs apart, unfolding the glistening lips of your cunt, the wisps and kinks of hair coating your mound, studying how you clenched and fluttered at his every breath. His mouth was so precise to the point you made him swear he had never slept with another girl in the middle of making you cum that first time; then, he made you cum again as a promise, with two fingers hooking inside your walls, scraping his soft fingertips against the spongy tissue deep and high, feeling it uncoil. He licked and slurped like an animal, grunting and whimpering and slurring reassurances of how sweet, how good you were. A few ‘bunny’s slipped out as you rutted into his mouth, an unavoidable habit. You babbled apologies as he pulled a few stray hairs from his teeth, tokens of a job well done, and he chuckled warmly, shaping them into hearts on your skin before blowing them away. And now you sat in his lap, close to spent and still incredibly nervous– because just his fingers felt like a tight stretch for your virgin body… so what about that thing?

“What might that be?”

Clark studied your thoughtful and slightly mortified expression. His hand came up to trace the shade of your cheeks. “I want to get right to it. I don’t need you to suck me off.”

“But that’s what first times are supposed to be. Trying it all.”

“Says who?”

“Most… sources.”

He looked at you with those cruel doe eyes and smiled. “Do you want to?”

You answered too quickly: “Sure I do!”

Clark clicked his tongue, wrapping a grip around your smushy hip. “Be honest, baby.”

You frowned a bit. “Okay, fine. I’m nervous. But for good reason, I mean, my mouth is too small for that!”

“It’s gonna take practice,” he stroked your cheek, “and my own stamina, which I’m worried I may not have enough of at the moment…” You both glanced down at his crotch. His cock was practically begging for the misery to end. You giggled, and he gave your face a playful pat. “If you’re nervous, let’s save it. Nobody said there can’t be multiple first times. Nobody said you have to do it all at once.”

“So you just want to skip to the sex part?”

“This is all technically sex,”

“Don't be a know-it-all, please,” you grumbled, nudging his nose with yours. 

Clark laughed and squeezed your hips. “Sorry. You’re just easier to tease when you’re nervous.”

You swallowed thickly, feeling the tremor in your legs. Your body was hungry and tired at the same time, and even though he seemed monstrous and dangerous in size, the majority of you was dying for it. You leaned in a little and laid a kiss on his lips, and Clark hummed happily. Looping his warm, corded arms around your back, he dragged you close enough that your cunt grazed his length, and the two of you let out a coordinated shudder.

“You’re so warm,” he grunted, raking his fingers down your thighs. 

Wrapping a hand around the nape of his neck and searching for a way to quell the fire, you gently rocked your hips against him again, feeling your lips spread to accommodate the width of his shaft. He brushed against your worn clit and you shivered. “Christ…”

Clark’s eyes fluttered and rolled back for a moment from the sheer relief. The pain has been ridiculous, like he might explode, but the contact made it worth it. It was blissful, serene, for a moment. Until he opened his eyes again and saw the divine image of you grinding your cunt against his cock like a toy, and he was done for. 

Clark guided your hips and you watched with a slack jaw as his pretty tip began to bead. Soft, high sounds slipped past his lips– sweet whimpers– as he buried his face in your neck and attached his tongue to your skin. You only moved a bit, but it was enough to make both of your bodies burn. 

“Fuck,”

“Oh, bunny,”

“I think… ah… we should try…” “Bedside drawer.”

You frowned at having to pull back, but Clark managed to break through the daze long enough to give you a stern look. You slipped away to reach across the mattress and root through his drawer until you felt a small box, and when you lifted it out, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t start,”

“Extra large!”

“Didn’t I just hear someone complain they were afraid it was too big to handle?”

“Come on, it’s still objectively funny,” you laughed, fighting through breathlessness as you ripped a foil open. It was labelless. “What are these, anyway, ripoffs?”

“They’re just condoms, honey,” Clark watched your soft expression as you chuckled, and his heart fluttered. As you reached down, he mumbled, “You do it for me.”

You nodded with a little grin and placed the cup on his tip, and carefully rolled the rubber down, stifling a laugh when he hissed at your touch. When it was snug, you tucked your hair behind your ears and looked back up. “I did that right, didn’t I?”

Clark nodded and tugged your hair loose. “Mhm.”

“Hey–”

“Let it fall.”

You flushed as he played with your locks, and you settled close again, your plush chest flush against his carved one. He kissed your jaw, then your cheek, and then followed with a flurry of nose and eyes and lips. You smiled wider after each until it hurt your teeth. 

“I promise I won’t do anything to hurt you,” Clark whispered, pressing down on your bottom lip with his thumb. “You gotta swear you’ll let me know if it hurts, if it’s too much, or you wanna stop–”

“I will, I will,” you assured, “I swear, Clarkie.”

He grinned and made a swift crack at rolling you over, and you yelped comically as he wrestled you down. He trapped your wrists to the bed and kissed you with enough passion to make you melt into a sappy goo on his threadbare sheets. 

Against your mouth he said, “I’ll put it in slowly, okay?”

“Okay.”

Above you, Clark nudged your knees apart and propped them up for you. Your body was pliant enough that you just listened. As he lined himself up with your entrance, you felt the anxious butterflies begin to flutter again, and you grabbed his hands. Clark looked up in concern. 

“What is it?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, bruising your thumb over his knuckles. “Just… um… hold my hand, when you do it.”

The man’s expression collapsed into a heartsick grin, and he laced his fingers through yours, kissing your hand. “Sure, bunny. Now take a deep breath, okay? And when I slide it, breathe out. Helps to keep you from tensing.”

“Where did you hear that?” You smirked as he leaned down low.

“Magazine,” he scrunched his nose, “Big breath.”

You drew one in, feeling it populate your lungs, and you waited for his signal. 

Clark’s heart was pounding. Truthfully, he would have loved to watch you suck him off, but he knew he wouldn’t last. He wanted the first time he came to be inside you. He wanted to experience sex like men were supposed to, without the fear of his biology. He was planning to tell you after the fact that he worked on developing a latex compound that could… withstand the makeup of his spend… because the heat of it had burned through every human condom he ever tried… or exploded from pressure first. It was a mortifying experience for him, and a blast for Chloe and Emile. But he had something now that could protect you, and he was dying to use it and feel you and love you. So, he gently nestled the safely wrapped tip into your folds, and he squeezed your hand. “Let it out now.”

As you deflated your lungs, you felt the thick, burning stretch of Clark sinking past your walls. Your knuckles turned white and the breath you let out felt more like losing your wind. A cracking, broken whine escaped Clark as he didn’t stop, but sunk deeper. You clawed at his back with your free hand, the intrusion shocking and undeniably welcome. 

“Oh my God, bunny,” Clark groaned, burying himself to the hilt. You took him all the way, somehow, though he expected more resistance. Maybe it was the breathing. Or the three orgasms from earlier.

“Hoky fuck,” you replied. 

Clark’s cock pulsed inside you as he stilled for a moment, letting you adjust, and feeling the hot muscle enveloping him. No wonder they say men can’t think when they fuck– his brain wasn’t working. At all. 

“Clark,” you whined.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Move, baby,” you begged. 

Alarms sounded in his brain, and as he dragged back out just to shove back in, the slow suction made his legs shake. You let out a horribly lewd sound and made it worse. He was seeing the light. He was raptured by your pussy. Raptured, I tell you. 

Your back arched as the pressure reached your tummy, and you could have sworn he was that deep. Scientifically, he might be. The pickup of his thrusts made you writhe, and Clark had to pin you down just to keep going. 

“Ah!... Baby… Bunny girl… Oh, take it, take me… Good lord!”

You laughed at his exclamations, breasts bouncing, body thrumming, moans of your own spilling from you like water. The overstimulation between your legs made you tremble, and you dug your nails into Clark’s back as he made love to you in the deepest and gentlest manner possible… but not slow. He prodded your gut and panted in your ear like an animal, and by his erratic breathing, you knew he was close. You were, too. 

“So good, Clark,”

“Baby, you feel so f-fucking good–”

“Did you just curse?”

“Fuck! Honey, I can’t hold it!”

Your eyes nearly popped out as he swore against your neck, plunging his cock as deep as it could go, shaking and whimpering like a dog in heat. The pleasure in your belly was a coiled spring about to snap, and with every thrust, you felt it bursting. “I’m close! Cum with me, Clarkie, please!”

Your words weren’t even necessary. He was already boiling over. Clark trembled and pressed you hard into the mattress, losing control for a second. Your lungs squeezed as he pummeled your hips, milking himself inside your cunt, whimpering pathetically and sinking his teeth into your chest. 

“Ah! Clarki–ie– mmf!”

You could feel the unnatural heat inside your womb, and as his heavy weight collapsed on you, it made the shock waves of your own orgasm double down. Being the fourth, it was the best and most debilitating. Your legs jerked as if you lost motor control, and tears pricked your eyes as his thrust turned to shallow ruts, trying to rock you through it. 

“Bunny… oh, bunny… oh, jeez…”

You gasped for air as your body sank limp into the sheets. “Ah… are… all first times… that good?”

“Oh my God, I had no idea you were prom king!” you exclaim with a wide grin, eyeing the framed photo hanging on the beige wallpapered wall. 

A hand suddenly sneaks around your head to cover your vision, closing your eyes shut and pulling you back against a hard chest.

“We don't talk about that,” Leon, your college boyfriend, grumbles in your ear.

You giggle, reaching for his wrist to pull away the manmade blindfold that is his palm. 

“Hey, let me see! You look cute!”

“I look stupid,” he huffs, finally dropping his hand when you grab it with yours. “I don't even know why I was picked…”

Keeping his palm in yours, you lean closer to inspect the picture where he’s standing awkwardly with his prom date, both adorning a sash and crown that indicate their awarded titles. It makes your heart warm knowing it was probably his mom who insisted on hanging the image in the family home. You can imagine him protesting while she puts it in place and the thought makes you snicker.

Turning to him with narrowed eyes and a sly grin, you squeeze his hand. “Really? You don't know why?”

He frowns, pouty lips growing poutier at your teasing expression and he shakes his head. 

“No, I don't know why, and don't give me that look that says you're about to say something ridiculous.”

Your smile widens and you turn to face him fully, taking a step closer so your chest is nearly pressed to his.

“It’s because you're hot, Einstein.”

Leon huffs out a laugh, turning his face away, though you catch the blush creeping up his neck as he does so.

You want to tease him further, but a yank to your intertwined hands pulls you along as he walks ahead towards the stairs.

“Come on, smartass, let me show you my room.”

Following in his steps, you can't help sneaking glances around his childhood home, taking in every detail of the place he was raised in. 

You and Leon grew up in the same city, but having never gone to the same schools, you never met until you shared a college class a few months ago, miles away from your hometown. Fate works in mysterious ways like that.

You remember he had sat next to you and asked for a pen, which you gave with a kind smile. It was only later he admitted to you he never needed a pen, but just wanted an excuse to talk to ‘the pretty girl who made it hard to focus in class.’ His words, not yours.

He has always been so sweet. Thoughtful too. From buying you your favorite treats to sending you good luck voice memos for your exams where he gets all sappy and cute, even if it's embarrassing. You still wonder how you got so lucky that your first real boyfriend is such a sweetheart.

After strenuous finals and a hectic schedule, you're both back home for the summer, and you couldn't be happier about sharing the same hometown—it really feels meant to be.

Entering Leon’s room, your eyes twinkle with excitement as you take in every detail of the place where he undoubtedly spent most of his time growing up. The soft glow of his bedside lamp makes everything warmer, giving the atmosphere an added hue of nostalgia.

You comment and ask questions about every intriguing feature. His Star Wars themed comforter, the medals from his track running days, the posters of his favorite bands lining the walls… Everything holds a memory you eagerly want to learn about.

Picking up a small figurine of Tony Tony Chopper to examine it closely, you don't see the way Leon watches you fondly from his spot on the bed, taking in the sight of you in his space.

“You know I’ve never really had a girl over in my room…” he smiles shyly, scratching the back of his neck.

Your heart flutters knowing you’ve never really been in a boy’s room either. Although you've been in Leon’s at campus, it wasn't the same with his roommate constantly around. 

With the both of you living in dorms, it's difficult to find a time and place to hang out where it's just the two of you. So this moment feels extra special, and you're excited to have many more like this the whole summer.

Especially if it means you and Leon will finally have your long anticipated first time together.

“Am I the chosen one, then?” you grin, feeling butterflies in your stomach when he stands and walks closer.

“I guess you are.”

Leon stops right before you, taking the old figurine from your fingers to look down at it with a chuckle.

“I think I was a bit too much of a nerd for any serious enough girlfriends to bring home.”

“I disagree. Nerds make great boyfriends,” you argue, tugging at the drawstrings of his hoodie.

He smiles down at you softly, reaching to hold your waist with both hands to pull you even closer.

“Did I tell you my parents aren't home tonight?” 

Your eyes flicker from your toying fingers to his handsome face, narrowing your eyes in mock contemplation.

“I think you may have mentioned that five or six times already, but I’m not quite sure.”

He laughs in response, squeezing your sides playfully, “did I now?”

“Mhm,” you hum, pulling the strings tighter to make him bend down enough for you to kiss his cheek.

The feel of your lips against his skin makes his heart flutter, and soon he’s pulling you flush against him to leave a tender kiss on your neck.

Leon hears your breath catch, and he leans back just enough to meet your eyes.

“But just so we’re clear… It doesn't mean anything has to happen, okay? I don't want you to feel pressured.”

“Trust me, Leon, if I didn't want to do this, I wouldn't be here… How else do you think I stayed a virgin until now?” you huff out a chuckle.

“Same way I stayed one too apparently.”

The both of you giggle, appreciating the fact you get to be in the same 'predicament’—something rare among your peers.

You feel another kiss on your jaw, then your cheek, before he lands one on the corner of your mouth with a smile.

“You want a tour of my bed next, baby?”

That makes you chuckle, swatting his shoulder sheepishly.

“You’re such a dork... But yeah, I would, actually.”

In response to your agreement, the arms wrapped around you shift lower to hold right under your butt and hoist you up in the air, making you squeal.

Leon is beaming from ear to ear as he crosses the short distance from his spot to his old twin bed, only to set you the mattress with a thud, your body bouncing on the sheets from the movement.

“Give me a minute, yeah?” 

He pecks your nose, making you scrunch your face in amusement, then stands up, leaving you momentarily alone in his bedroom.

You lay your head next to the printed Darth Vader on a pillow as you look up at the ceiling littered with pale green glow-in-the-dark stars—the room not dark enough for them to shine. You always wanted to have these growing up, and the thought of little Leon sleeping under them every night makes your chest warm.

The wholesome image isn't enough to keep your nerves at bay, though, when you realize this is the moment you’ve been waiting for for a long time. Or at least, that's how it has felt.

Ever since you both started dating, with him officially asking you to be his girlfriend on the third date, all you’ve been able to have were some heated makeout sessions and the occasional dry humping. Oh, and you let him feel you up under your shirt a couple of times—that was nice. Very nice, actually.

Your thoughts are interrupted by him coming back into the room with a set of bath towels and a large bottle of water. He awkwardly bunches the fabric in his arms to place on the nightstand along the water, and you can tell he’s more nervous than he’s letting on.

He sits beside you, a bit stiff, and you're hit with the smell of his cologne that he undoubtedly reapplied just now. The act is endearing, but you start to wonder if you should ask for a minute to do some extra pampering yourself too. Not that you would need it considering you had an everything-shower right before you left home to meet him. 

You’ve both anticipated this, even if it wasn't explicitly planned.

The scraping sound of his bedside drawer opening captures your attention, and you see him pull out a tiny remote with multicolored buttons. Although he doesn't take the rest out, your eyes catch the brand new, unopened box of condoms and a bottle of lube.

Goodness, it’s really happening.

“Just to, um, set the mood, I guess…” he mumbles and presses the red circle on the remote as he turns off the bedside lamp.

You’re suddenly plunged in a crimson hue shining from the LED strips lining the junction between the ceiling and walls.

“Too much?” he asks nervously when he takes in your surprised expression.

You chuckle, watching his now scarlet lit features. “Maybe try something cooler… Perhaps purple?”

He nods, pressing the indicated color with a click, and watches as the light turns into a violet glow. 

When he sees your smile soften, your eyes looking up to take in the change, he can't help but scoot closer until your thigh is pressed to his.

“You’re so pretty.”

His whispered compliment catches you off guard—not that you're not used to his usual sweet words that boost your confidence like nothing else.

“You're gonna make me blush…” you murmur with a flustered smile.

Leon, cups your cheek tenderly, then leans in to whisper against your mouth, “welcome to the club.”

The press of his lips to yours makes your heart skip a beat, and you return the kiss with fervor, reaching to place a hand on his thigh.

What starts as sweet slowly becomes passionate, and he nips at your bottom lip eagerly just to hear you whine like you do every time. You then feel the swipe of his tongue against the seam of your mouth, and you open up to meet it with yours. Both slick muscles brush against each other in a feverish dance once you establish a familiar rhythm.

His hand moves from your face to your waist, and he moans when you thread your fingers into his dirty blonde locks.

“Come here,” he mutters, shifting you so you’re straddling his lap.

The moment you do, you feel his erection press against your jeans, your own heat increasing as you grind down on him subconsciously.

“Fuck, baby…” his grip on your waist tightens, moving you in tandem with his own hip movements.

Between sloppy kisses, you find yourself bold enough to ask in a murmur, “can I take off your hoodie?”

Leon pauses, then leans back in just to gently bite your lip before answering, “you don't even have to ask.”

With his eager approval, you reach for the hem of his top and pull up both the hoodie and the tanktop he had underneath, too impatient to wait. Your breath hitches when your eyes roam his shirtless form, his fit torso making your mouth water.

He feels his whole body grow hotter under your gaze, and takes your hand to place it on his abs, keen for your touch.

“It’s summer, so you know what that means.” He bites his lip with a smile, his confidence soaring from the way you touch him hungrily.

“What?” you ask half focused, your attention still locked on his body.

“Pool dates,” he chuckles, giving your ass a light tap and grabbing the fat in each palm to grind you down on him again. 

You whimper, enjoying the heat of his bold touch. “Are you saying I’ll be seeing a lot more of you shirtless?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

You giggle, bringing both hands to run up and down his sides. “But that also means everyone else at the pool will see you too.”

Raising an eyebrow at your teasing tone, he responds by sliding his own hands under your shirt.

“Don't tell me you’re jealous?”

“Maybe a little bit,” you smirk.

Leon laughs at your playfulness, shaking his head in fondness. 

“How about this, I’ll keep an arm around you the whole time so everyone knows I’m taken… Plus, I need to make sure no one is ogling you for too long either.”

You grin as you picture the image of you both by the poolside, lounging in each other’s arms and enjoying the warm weather. The thought of showing off your hot boyfriend makes you tingle.

Feeling more and more worked up, you let a hand skim further down until it’s toying with the elastic band of his briefs peaking past his jeans. 

“Mhm, but they don't get to touch… Especially not here,” you whisper, letting your index slip under the underwear hem.

He sucks in a sharp breath in response, and you see the look on his face turn from playful to hungry again in an instant.

“That's right. They don’t.”

Leon crashes his lips on yours, kissing you messier than before with his hands moving to push your shirt up, pacing himself just enough to give you the chance to refuse if you didn't want him to.

When you don't say anything, and instead moan into his mouth, he groans, leaning back just to pull your top over your head and discard it to the side.

At the sight of you topless, he can't resist immediately peppering kisses on your sternum, mouthing hungrily at the valley between your breasts.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he grunts, sliding a hand to grab your left tit through your bra.

You’re trembling in need on top of him, feeling every cell of your body on fire. Every compliment, every kiss, every touch—only seem to serve to grow your confidence and want for him. So, you don't hesitate long before reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra.

The moment you slide it down and expose your tits to Leon’s ravenous eyes, you see his brain short circuit in real time at the sight.

“Baby… You’re gonna kill me,” he whispers, voice strained, then slides a palm to massage your breast with a moan.

“Leon…” you whimper, arching into his touch, and he decides to do the one thing he’s always dreamt of doing.

He latches his lips to your nipple.

The sound that comes out of you is pure sin, and he takes that as approval to keep going, suckling the soft peak in his mouth greedily. 

With his left hand, he fondles your other breast, then wraps his arm tightly around your waist to keep you in place as you continue to move your hips against his.

He keeps showering your nipples in attention, licking and sucking while you whine on top of him, feeling your cunt grow wetter and wetter while you clench around nothing.

With wet lips and a mind hazy with want, he lowers a hand to the button of your jeans, meeting your eyes with wide blown pupils.

“I wanna see all of you… please?” 

Biting your lip, you nod, “you don't even have to ask,” you parrot his words from earlier.

Grinning at your answer, he unzips your jeans and you shift off his lap to let him slide them off you, leaving you in your white, thin panties.

The fabric is so soaked it's become transparent, and Leon can't peel his eyes away from the outline of your dripping nether lips.

“Baby, I’ve wanted you like this for so long, I can barely think.”

“Maybe, take off your pants too?” you answer with a sheepish smile.

He chuckles and complies, kneeling between your legs on the mattress to unbuckle his belt. The sight of him looking down at you as he does so has you gripping the sheets.

Once his fly undone and his jeans lowered and off, you're awarded the view of his straining briefs as they struggle to contain his hardened cock. But what gets you even more turned on, is the wet patch of precum indicating just how desperate he is already.

Leon feels the searing heat of your gaze on him, and though he feels nervous, he doesn't let that stop him from hooking his fingers on your panties’ waistband.

“May I, my love?” he asks in an overly formal tone that makes you giggle despite your own nerves.

“Yes you may, my good sir.”

That's all he needs to pull the fabric down as you lift your hips, biting his plump bottom lip when it catches on your wet cunt from the stickiness. A final tug lets him lower them completely to reveal your glistening folds.

“Fuck.”

If his pupils were dilated before, they might as well be fully black now. He’s never been face to face with a pussy before, let alone yours, and he feels like he might drown from how much his mouth is watering to have a taste.

You reach to place a hand on the one he has on your thigh, seeking comfort from the vulnerability of being completely exposed to him for the first time. Only then does he take in a shaky breath to reassure you.

“Baby, I don't even know what to do with myself. You’re so fucking beautiful and sexy… I mean, fuck, look at you.”

He brings a tentative thumb to brush over your puffy lips and watches you shiver at the contact.

“Listen, I don't really know what I’m doing, so, uh, please tell me if I do something wrong,” he murmurs nervously, his hands trembling slightly against your skin.

“Actually, I have an idea…”

You adjust the pillows behind you until you're propped up in a half seated position, your legs bent at the knees. He lays between them, on his stomach, staring at you mesmerized.

“I’ll show you how I do it.”

You reach down and take his hand in yours, just to place his digits on your needy clit, barely breathing as you guide him. Your face is so hot you can feel your temples throbbing, your heart beating so fast it might stop. It’s that mix of excitement and nerves that makes you lightheaded.

With your guidance, Leon is able to circle your sensitive bud with the pad of his thumb, watching you intently for every reaction. When he hits a particularly nice spot and you moan, he feels his hips buck against the mattress under him before he can even stop them.

“Shit… Is this what you do when I call you at night? Tell me, baby, please.”

“Yeah, Leon… This is what I do when you get me worked up.”

He makes a sinful sound at your admission, the thought of you looking like this when he’s whispering in your ear about all the things he wishes he could do to you, making him twitch.

“Can I taste you?” he asks suddenly, unable to pace himself anymore.

When he sees your wide eyed, shy expression, he quickly starts blabbering nervously.

“I-I mean only if you want me to! I just— I’ve wanted to taste you for so long, and I know I’ll probably suck b-but I watched a lot of videos to learn, and, um, I can maybe try, unless that's not—”

“Yes,” you cut off his rambling with a shy voice, “you can do it… I-I want you to.”

Leon’s breathing stutters, grateful that the purple lighting is hiding his intensely blushing face.

“Okay. Just tell me what feels good.”

With that, he leans his face closer, his breath hot against your quivering cunt. Then, he sticks out his tongue and licks a broad stripe along your slit that makes you jerk with a whimper.

Looking up to meet your eyes, he does it again, tongue deliberately slow as he groans, taking in every twitch and tremor while savoring your taste.

Your breath hitches, your fingers digging into the fat of your thighs. “Fuck, Leon—” 

He gets greedier with every sound you make, lapping at your juices like they're the sweetest thing he’s tried.

“R-right there!” you whine when he licks over the hood of your sensitive clit.

“Yeah? Like this?” he mutters against your folds, giving another eager lick.

When he sees the way you react he tries something he’s seen many times in porn in hopes you like it. Gently, he holds your lips apart with his thumbs, then seals his mouth over your bundle of nerves. 

He begins to suckle the delicate flesh experimentally, keeping his eyes locked on your face for any hints of discomfort. The moment you mewl in approval, though—bucking your hips into his touch—he tightens his hold on you to steady you, and starts sucking and licking more confidently.

The new sensations make you dizzy, the pleasure unlike anything you’ve felt before. You’re not experienced enough to know if he’s doing it correctly, you just know it feels good and that’s enough of an indicator he’s doing something right.

Any lack of skill is made up for by his intense enthusiasm, and soon enough, you’re getting closer and closer to orgasming with every swipe of his tongue, the very image of him between your legs already bringing you close.

“Stay right there, fuck, d-don’t change anything,” you whimper when you feel yourself about to tip over the edge.

Leon keeps the fast strokes of his slick muscle that appear to be pushing you to climax, not stopping to rest despite his jaw starting to ache. He does not care, because seeing your undoing under him is everything to him at the moment.

A few seconds later, and he’s making you cum for the first time, your hand flying to your mouth to try and muffle the loud noises leaving you uncontrollably as you writhe under his greedy mouth.

“Leon…” you pant once the high passes, looking down at him to find him smiling up at you softly between your trembling legs. “That was… Holy shit.”

He chuckles and kisses your mound, sliding his palms under you to give your ass a squeeze.

“You taste so good. I could keep going if you want.”

The proposition makes you whine, though as tempting as it is, you can't wait to feel him inside you.

“Come here, please.”

You open your arms, beckoning him closer, and he doesn't hesitate to crawl up your body to kiss you feverishly as he settles on top of you. The taste of yourself on his lips is sinfully addicting, and you don't hesitate to sloppily collect every trace of it off him.

Grinding his hard cock against your heat, you feel gentle hands roam your body, touching everywhere like he can't get enough. You do the same with your own fingers grazing up and down his broad back, tracing every muscle, mole, and freckle on his warm skin.

“I almost came just from watching you fall apart… You looked so sexy, I was humping the mattress like a dog,” he whispers with a small laugh.

You bite your lip with a smile, tightening your hold on him. “That would’ve been really hot.”

“More like really embarrassing,” he huffs sheepishly, then lets his fingers trail down until they reach your sopping cunt again. “I wanna feel you first.”

Breathless, you open your legs some more to grant him easier access, the movement making an obscene, slick noise.

“Y-yeah, me too… Do you wanna try fingering me?”

Leon groans in pleasure at the sound of that and nods eagerly. He readjusts to lay next to you on his side, one hand brushing your hair while the other stays on your waiting pussy.

You reach down to guide his middle finger into your entrance slowly, your shaky breaths making your chest move in tandem with your breathing.

Once his digit is inside up to the first knuckle, you let go of his hand and watch him bite his lip as he slowly pushes inside, pausing every other second to check your reaction.

“Shit, babe— you’re so fucking warm,” he can't help but moan, mirroring your own whimpers at the feel of a part of him inside you.

“Keep going… It feels nice,” you whine.

When his finger is fully nestled inside your slippery hole, he leans his head down to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples again, and begins to gently move in and out of your cunt. The moans you make only spur him to continue, slowly picking up speed the more your walls relax.

Leon can't believe your pussy feels this soft, wet, and tight on his finger alone, and he’s already losing it imagine that feeling around his neglected cock. But he knows he needs to prep you first. He’s learned as much as he could about first times from the internet, and even posted on r/AskReddit to seek every bit of advice he can get. He wants to make this good for you more than anything else.

When the slide of his lone finger is easy enough, you stroke his hair and murmur, “I think you can put in a second one.”

He nods, still mouthing at your breasts, before slipping a second digit inside you just like you asked. When you moan at the feeling, your tight walls hugging him, he can't stop himself from pressing his lips to yours again just to swallow every sound.

“You feel so good, baby. You’re so soft and so fucking wet.”

Every whispered word makes you whinier, your pussy greedier, until he’s steadily finger fucking your slick heat without hindrance. He even tries a slight parting motion inside you to stretch you a bit more, and his hips buck instinctively against your thigh when you moan louder at that.

After several minutes of prepping your hole, sucking your nipples, and making out with your whiny mouth, you feel that Leon has done enough to prepare you for his patiently waiting dick.

“Okay, babe… Let’s try. I think I’m ready.”

He releases one of your peaks he was suckling with a wet pop, meeting your eyes with hungry ones. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Your assured tone has him suppress a moan as he nods in return. He slowly slides his fingers out, making you whimper, and he doesn't hesitate to bring them up to his mouth for another taste of your cunt he’s already become a fan of.

Reaching for the waistband of his now ruined briefs from the precum wet patches, you watch him lick every drop of your slick as you lower his underwear slowly. 

He groans, immensely turned on by your initiative, and he watches you peel off the last layer separating your naked bodies. He kicks off the garment once it reaches his ankles, and holds his breath when your gaze drops down to his now sprung free, hard, leaking cock.

“It’s, um… big.”

Your nervous, candid comment makes him choke on his own saliva. He hides his face in the crook of your neck to let out a shy laugh that slowly has you relaxing to join him with a chuckle.

“Sorry, I sounded like a bad porn actress.”

Lifting his head to look down at you, he smiles sheepishly, squeezing your waist. 

“You kinda did. But hey, I’ll take the compliment…” he grins, voice trailing off before his expression morphs into something more serious. “Unless you’re worried or something, which I understand… I mean I can just use my fingers again, we don't really have to do the full—”

His words are cut off when you wrap your fingers around his throbbing length, making him hiss out a low ‘fuck’ as he looks down at where you're touching him.

“It's softer than I thought,” you comment with a small, reassuring smile.

“Y-yeah?”

“It's soft, and warm…” you whisper, using your second hand to stroke the back of his thick head of blonde hair. “Feels nice… Maybe I can taste you too?”

His eyes snap up to yours, lips parted in surprise. 

“That would be—fuck—that would be so hot… But I’d definitely cum too fast, babe. I’m already feeling a lot with just your hand. Shit.”

You can't help but feel a bit disappointed you won't get to have him in your mouth, but you understand why he would be reluctant to let you do it.

“Okay. Next time, then?”

Leon shakes his head out of pure disbelief at how perfect you are. He’s never felt better about waiting for the right girl, despite always feeling like an outcast amongst his peers who constantly bragged about all the dirty sex they're having. Though, he doubts most of it is true knowing how locker room talk tends to be a pissing contest half the time.

“Yes, baby. Definitely next time.”

With one more peck to your lips, he reaches for the condoms and lube in his left-open nightstand drawer. He then quickly tears open the box and takes out one of the foil packets, and prepares to tear it open.

You stop him mid movement with a playful grin, taking the blue square away from him. 

“I’ve always wanted to do this.”

He raises an eyebrow, then laughs when you rip it open with your teeth, putting in more effort than necessary. You then pull out the rolled up latex circle and look at it curiously, before you look at your waiting boyfriend again.

“I wanna put it on you.”

“Please.”

Leon has to stop himself from humping the air like an animal in heat when you sit up to grab his veiny cock again. 

You begin to fiddle with the condom, only to realize you’re attempting to unroll it around him in the wrong direction, and the both of you giggle as you fix it for a proper fit.

Once the protective barrier is on, he kisses your cheek as a ‘thanks,’ then grabs the bottle of lube that he flicks open with his thumb.

“Maybe now’s a good time for the towels,” you mutter and reach for the fluffy fabric that you place under you before repositioning yourself on your back.

Leon then squeezes the lubricant with a loud squelch like ketchup, directly onto his bobbing dick, that he then lathers with his free hand. 

That makes you snicker, finding the sight amusing, and he huffs out a laugh in return before squirting some more directly onto your waiting hole, the cold sensation making you gasp.

“That's what you get for laughing,” he teases, then kisses you again just because he can.

Finally, he positions himself between your legs once again, bracing himself on his elbows and shuddering when his sensitive tip brushes your inner thigh.

“I’ll go slow, I promise,” he whispers with a hand moving to hold his erection, the other stroking your hair.

“I know.”

With your sweet smile, you help guide him towards your entrance until his tip is aimed correctly at it, before moving your palms to rest on his waist.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he mutters.

Then, slowly, he presses in just enough for his cockhead to notch into your opening.

You both let out needy noises at the pleasurable feeling, but it's only when you nod that he pushes in a bit more, his fingers twitching in your locks.

“Still okay?”

“Y-yeah, don't stop.”

You take slow, deep, breaths with every inch that he slides in deliberately unhurried, your virgin cunt hugging his own virgin cock so warm and tight he feels like he’s dreaming.

“Holy fuck— y-you feel so good.”

Pressing his forehead to yours, every ragged breath of his fans on your lips as he continues to steadily breach open your untouched pussy. It's overwhelming how full you feel but the pleasure overshadows any discomfort, and you know the reason you’re not experiencing pain like so many of your girlfriends warned you about, is thanks to his loving and caring approach he’s shown from the start.

“Leon… I love you,” you whimper, suddenly feeling overtaken by emotion when he manages to fully settle inside your clenching heat.

“Oh, baby…” he whispers, a hand moving to cradle your face. “I love you so much… You have no idea.”

Intertwining your fingers with his, you give him the okay to slowly start moving after a moment. Just enough to get you adjusted to the new feeling of having your walls penetrated.

You tilt your chin up to indicate you want a kiss, and he complies with no hesitation, the both of you moaning into each other’s mouths.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last that long, babe.”

Leon knows the fact he’s managed to not burst after who knows how long spent in the sheer presence of your naked body, let alone touching it, is already a lifetime achievement for a first timer like him.

“Do it. Wanna see you cum, wanna feel it,” you whine under him, moving your hips the slightest bit to meet his shallow thrusts.

“Fucking hell—”

Your words and movements break him, and he can't hold on anymore. 

On more thrust, two, three, and then his cumming with a drawn out moan, his fingers tightening against your skin as he loses himself. Spurt after spurt of creamy spend shoot into the latex barrier of the condom while you shake under him. You only wish you could preserve this moment forever, just to rewatch how beautiful he looks on top of you.

He finally stills, panting, and doing his best not to let himself crush you with his weight, then gives you one more peck on the lips before slowly starting to pull out.

You make a small noise at the feeling of being emptied, and you watch him carefully remove the filled condom, just to tie it up and let it drop in the small trashcan under his desk to deal with later.

“Pro move,” you grin sleepily, feeling exhaustion catch up to you.

“You know me, the expert condom handler,” he laughs.

Leon uses the second towel to clean your inner thighs then himself from any mess as much as he can, while you lay there feeling like a drowsy princess.

But before you can get too sleepy, his hands find your thighs again, and he smiles down at you.

“Do you think I could give you one more? I can use my fingers.”

You bite your lip and nod, feeling giddy at the idea of getting to cum by him again, especially after already getting so worked up from him inside you.

He lays next to you like before, but instead of letting his fingers in, this time he focuses on your clit, watching your breathing slowly get more labored again.

You give him a few adjustments, until he figures out where to press to elicit the loudest moans out of you, and he keeps going with no intention to stop until you climax.

In addition to the steady strokes, a few tweaks to your nipple with his free hand and a wet suck of his mouth to your neck, and you’re cumming again. This time, you don't cover your mouth, letting him hear exactly what he’s doing to you.

When you’re finished, body trembling and exhausted, he immediately moves to cuddle you, peppering kisses on your forehead and temple.

“You're so perfect, I can't believe I got this lucky to be your first…” He pauses in his words to hold you tighter, suddenly feeling a surge of protectiveness. “I hope it went well for you like it did for me… I didn't hurt you or anything, right?”

“No, Leon. Trust me, I would've told you if you did,” you caress his cheek reassuringly before leaning in to kiss him again. “It was perfect. You are perfect.”

He smiles softly at that, feeling himself relax at your gentle assurance.

“I love you, baby. More than anything.”

“I love you too, Leon.”

Reaching a finger to boop his nose playfully, you can't help but tease in a playful tone.

“Can't wait to spend all summer learning how to be freaky together.”

He laughs sliding a palm down to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze.

“Hell yeah.”

Part 2.

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.

an: ...I said "expect something more between one and five million business days" that was on the original post...and by god...i delivered on my promise...

I am an “all things from the body taste bad” truther, but i talked to @belimah and realized that might not reflect everyone's experience. if you think vagina and balls taste good, I salute you. i may write a short follow up to this, i really love these two they mean so much to me. they love with their whole hearts

req tags: @julieisafreakforfanfiction @volcanicnomadlocket

Sukuna perm taglist: @fantastucbaby @ryosphere @touyaonmymind @aschwppes @mutedwinter @riribugged @superjelly0us @dawnsoblivion @knb-1 @sukunash0e @chososcupoftea

not so forced proximity • steve harrington

two months ago, you despised steve harrington. two months ago, the thought of skipping school with steve harrington would have been ludicrous. actually, just the thought of it would have had you laughing your ass off. you had hated him all throughout high school and middle school. his cockiness, ego and the way he always just assumed he was better than everyone else was enough to have him on your bad list, for life. insufferable jock that he was, would enjoy getting under your skin and know exactly how to do it.

now, however, as much as you hated it, the thought of not having him around was almost unbearable. some things in life just made people grow much closer, in a very short amount of time— seven foot demon-like monsters, a murdered cat and driving nails into baseball bats were some of them. another— a really effective one— was blindly jumping in to protect a small, chubby nerd with no teeth— your brother, and for some reason— also begrudgingly— steve harrington’s new, close friend.

two months ago, steve harrington saved your brother’s life and now it was pretty hard to hate him…

you had ridden your bike to school with dustin, pausing briefly to wish him a good day, before hauling ass to the high school. you unfortunately had a tendency to be late to school, blaming it on the undeniable fact that you were a responsible sister and always saw your brother— and usually his friends— safely to the middle school. hawkins wasn’t as safe as it used to be, after all.

steve was at his locker already and you subconsciously picked up the pace upon seeing him. you grabbed his shoulders and shoved him playfully. steve yelped, flinching and nearly dropping all of his books. you snorted, grinning at him in amusement. he was pretty jumpy for such a tall guy and a well known jock and alleged tough guy.

“holy shit, henderson—“ steve’s panicked expression softened when his eyes landed on you. his mouth twitched up into a smirk and he knew just by looking at you that whatever you were about to say was trouble, “what now?”

“i need you to come with me.”

steve set his books back in his locker and sighed. he looked at you with a raised eyebrow, hand on his hip, expression amused trepidation.

“alright…”

steve had stopped questioning things. admittedly, steve would blindly follow you off of a cliff without so much as a complaint. however he would never tell you that: your ego and self confidence was already much too high and there was also the possibility that you would hit him.

steve followed you wordlessly, allowing you to tug him along by the sleeve of his jacket. he paused when you stopped at his bmw, eyebrows raised in silent questioning. you just stared at him, raising your own eyebrows in answer, gesturing vaguely to the locked passenger door. steve sighed and unlocked his car, opening the door for you before climbing into the driver’s seat.

“where are we going?”

you gave steve the address and he started driving, once again, without question.

“you’re absolutely sure about this? some eccentric, conspiracy theorist, crazy, freak is going to be able to help?”

“i don’t think he’s a freak… the chief knows him.”

steve parked in the driveway, muttering slightly, “well, in that case…”

he jumped out after you, grabbing your wrist in caution, “this looks like an abandoned warehouse.”

“what a perfect place for an eccentric, conspiracy theorist, crazy, freak to live..”

steve rolled his eyes and you bit back a laugh. you headed to the front door and steve grabbed your arm, “wait— what are you doing? you don’t think someone that lives in a creepy warehouse will have booby traps?”

you just raised your eyebrows at him, expression dull, “booby traps? like in a spy movie?”

“i dont know!” steve looked at you with an exasperated huff, “he probably at least has guns or something!”

you just smiled slightly, the slightest hint of amusement on your face. he was being overprotective again. it was rather endearing and charming when it was with dustin, but you could take care of yourself…

“fine, whatever– forgive me not wanting you to get shot or kidnapped or worse…”

you held back another smile and knocked on the door, “i would like to think at least one of us could take him in a fight… given there are no booby traps or guns, of course…” you paused, almost laughing out loud at his defeated, slightly embarrassed expression.

“identify yourselves.”

now it was steve who laughed at you, for jumping at the voice in the loud speaker.

“um—“

you glanced around stupidly for a camera.

“above you, you idiots—“

damn. rude…

you craned your neck and spotted the camera, now feeling very stupid to be being seen. you stated your name and then steve’s, feeling more awkward and impatient by the second.

the door opened and a man in a bathrobe was studying you both. you reflexively took a step back, bumping into steve’s chest. he certainly didn’t look like a kidnapper or worse; but with his unbrushed curly hair and unkept beard, he did look rather crazy.

“state your buisness…”

“um, we have some information on the disappearances… and.. weird shit…”

murray stopped, looking between the two of you with narrowed eyes, “how did you find me?”

“we know jim hopper….”

murray scoffed, sorted, “not good enough.”

he slammed the door.

you scoffed, gaping in surprise. your fist tightened at your side, irrational anger starting to bubble inside you, “excuse me—“

you pounded on the door again, now pissed.

there was no answer, so you started pounding on the door harder. steve shifted beside you, glancing at you anxiously, very much hoping you were not about to be shot.

“asshole!” you pounded once more and the door opened.

murray looked irritated, but mildly impressed, “you’re awfully persistent.”

you just stared at him, sticking out your chin slightly. “you have no idea…” steve said it quietly, letting out a weak, nervous laugh.

murray narrowed his eyes, “were you followed?”

“no..?”

“are you sure?”

“we weren’t followed.”

steve was starting to get irritated, now understanding why this guy was known as crazy murray.

murray stepped aside and opened the door, glancing over your shoulders, triple checking that no one was around.

for an abandoned warehouse, the place was surprisingly normal inside. it looked like a normal house, just with a few extra weapons and equipment that you were sure only dustin could name. “you say you know the weird shit… start talking.” murray went off on a tangent, starting to rant about commies and russians. you exchanged glances with steve; maybe this wasn’t a good idea… “it isn’t russians.” steve looked mildly impatient, “you’re right about the disappearances not being coincidences, otherwise you’re way off.”

murray stopped, slowly turning to glare at both of you, “and why the hell should i take the word of two teenagers skipping school?”

“because we can prove it? otherwise you wouldn’t believe us.”

steve severely hoped the brief detour to your house and his now blood streaked trunk was worth it… he opened his trunk, and murrary stepped back instinctively. in his defense, it did look like a dead body wrapped in the tarp. technically, it was… steve folded the tarp off the head of the demogorgan and murray took a sharp intake of breath. he stumbled forward, hand on the tarp, staring down at it open mouthed and wide eyed.

you waited for him to scream. you waited for him to freak out and run away and send you two off with a gun. instead, he put his hand on trunk and turned to you two, slowly.

“who needs a drink?”

you watched murray pace, anxiety growing as he incessantly walked back and forth, muttering to himself with a drink in hand. you and steve argued as you tried to tell murray everything. he would leave things out, you would get a detail wrong and the constant correction and bickering made murray stop.

“you two are cute…”

you stopped mid sentence, feeling like you had whiplash, “i— what?”

“no, god— it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. i think you’re adorable. your curls and his eyes, god imagine your kids—“

steve had choked on his drink and was now trying to pretend he was not about to aspirate and had unknown, strong alcohol coming out his nose. you took a moment to take your horrified expression off of murray to pat steve on the back, wincing slightly at his sputtering and coughs.

“we aren’t—“

“oh, no— we—“

murray narrowed his eyes and leaned back, “interesting.” he raised his glass again and drained it, “very interesting… okay— if that’s how you want to play it…”

you almost scoffed, now tempted to knock the drink from his hand, “there’s nothing— can we just get back to why we’re here?”

steve had drained his own glass, grimacing as the liquid went down his throat. he didn’t meet your eyes, just stared at murray with an unreadable expression.

murray did eventually drop it, not bringing it up for the rest of the day. “oh shit—“ you caught steve’s wrist as he leaned over for another pencil, “shit—“ you hadn’t even realized how late it was. you hadn’t even realized how long you had been at this. writing, phone calls, filling murray in on any gaps in the story.

steve ran a hand through his hair, “shit— your mom’s going to kill me.” you reached over his arm and grabbed the phone, “my mom will never know you had anything to do with this.” the phone rang once, before a sharp answer, “where the hell are you?”

“dustin? why are you still up?”

“are you with steve?”

“dustin— get mom.”

“she’s asleep. i told her you were at the wheelers with nancy…”

thank god. you really did love your brother…

“thank you, dustin. thank you… i’ll fill you in on everything tomorrow, i promise.”

“i don’t want to know anything about what you and steve are doing together at eleven p.m.”

“dustin! this has nothing to do with steve.”

“is steve with you..?” you could hear the doubt and amusement in his voice.

“he just drove me here. and he’s helping— it doesn’t matter. goodnight, dustin.”

“goodnight. tell steve that if he gets you pregnant i’ll kill him. you’re bitchy enough…”

“i swear to god— dustin—“

the line buzzed, already dead and you huffed.

murray was sitting at the kitchen table, grilled cheese and water sitting in front of the empty places, “sorry i’m not much of a host.” his voice was slightly amused, not looking up from his sandwich. steve sat down, keeping his eyes fixed on murray like he still expected him to pull a gun out at any moment. you ate in silence, feeling more tense and on edge than you had this morning when you were still wary of booby traps. “thank you for your help…” you gathered up the plates and moved to the sink, washing the dishes without waiting to be told not to. you sensed someone behind you and slowly glanced over your shoulder, slightly worried you were about to get into a conspiracy theory tangent.

but it was only steve. he held a dish towel awkwardly, wiping off the dishes as you finished washing them. he stood in silence, eyes not meeting yours. you wanted to ask him why he was drying the plates and putting them away, but instead you just turned back to the sink, silent.

steve’s hand brushed against yours as he hung the towel back up. his breath caught and he tensed just for a moment. your eyes snapped to him and your cheeks heated up when you caught him looking back at you. he dropped his gaze and stepped back, clearing his throat. “do you… uh- need anything?”

steve was still standing so close to you. you were positive he had stood this close to you a million other times, but none of them had ever seemed this obvious or suffocating. the room had gotten increasingly warmer and you almost asked if murray had turned up the heat. he had gotten taller over the summer, you suddenly realized. his hair had gotten taller too— which meant it had gotten longer. his face was losing the soft features of his teenage years and you realized how startling sharp his jawline was.

steve said your name and you flinched. shit. what? “you okay?” his eyes were soft, knit with slight concern, “you’re just staring at me… like i grew a second head or something.”

oh.

“oh… i’m sorry.. i’m just tired, i think… long day.”

steve nodded, still eyeing you as you brushed past him. “thank you..for letting us stay the night.” steve hesitated by the couch and murray finally looked up, “yeah, yeah… don’t make it a habit to come sneaking off to uncle murray’s…”

oh, he wouldn’t.

“goodnight… thank you. again…” you disappeared down the stairs, feeling anything but tired.

“there’s a pullout couch in the other room. across from her’s.”

steve glanced at murray, eyes narrowing slightly. he was suggesting. clearly implying something… “thanks…”

steve took two steps towards the basement steps before murray spoke again, “you want my advice?”

steve really didn’t. steve watched you disappear around the corner at the bottom of the stairs and almost had half a mind to follow you. there had been a moment… just inches from you where he almost thought— he felt—

“skip the pull out, my friend…”

steve nearly fell down the stairs, “i’m sorry?”

murray was smirking innocently from over the top of his glass, “you’re an idiot if you sleep on the pull out.” murray stood up, set his glass down and then patted steve on the shoulder on his way past, “goodnight…” murray gave steve a final wink, before disappearing around the corner and leaving steve standing in the dark with a racing heart.

you closed your eyes, leaving the lamp beside the bed on. you tossed and turned, flipping over several times. you huffed, kicking the blankets off of your legs. you were in a new place. that was the reason you suddenly didn’t feel tired at all… you were in a new place, practically by yourself, in a strangers house with only steve harrington as a witness. at the thought of steve, your pulse lept and you swore. you muttered a few curses before sitting up. you turned the lamp off, thinking maybe total darkness would actually be better. you closed your eyes and settled back into the bed. once again, you thought of steve. steve harrington, just across the hall, by himself, unsupervised…

you covered your head with the pillow and groaned. steve was probably asleep already; exhausted from the day and likely tired of you constantly dragging him on wild goose chases with minimal explanations. you turned the lamp back on and sat up, crossing your arms again with a frustrated huff.

steve was not asleep already. he was far from exhausted, and he was the furthest thing from tired of you. he was pacing around the room, knuckles fisted, pressed against his mouth as if he was holding in a scream of pain. his hand brushing against your own had felt like an electric shock. it had been an accident, he knew. still, his mind dwelled on how you had dragged him along by the sleeve earlier and he cursed himself for how much he wished you had dragged him down the stairs and into the spare room—

fuck–

no—

steve cursed and sat back down on the pull out couch. it was less comfortable than most floors he had laid on; definitely less comfortable than the back seat of his car. he debated just going back upstairs and sleeping on the normal couch— or maybe even at this point, his back seats. but steve wouldn’t leave you alone in this house, even if he was parked outside like a sentry. the couch it was then. god knows he wasn’t going to get a second of sleep on a pull out that was all springs. god knows he wasn’t going to get any sleep at all, knowing you were just across the hall, a mere few dozen footsteps away…

with a groan, he stood up again. he wished he had a flashlight, as he attempted to strain his eyes in the darkness. all he saw was the light coming from under your door, and it was barely enough to safely navigate him to the stairs. steve’s hand was on the railing when the basement lit up completely. you had opened your door, now crossing the room at a brisk, determined pace.

steve felt numb as he watched you practically march towards the door to the room he was supposed to be asleep in. his feet moved before his brain had a chance to be filled in on the plan. you hadn’t even noticed him until he stepped into the dim light, away from the stairs. your mind had been too fuzzy, walk too brisk, compass much too dictated by historically dangerous feelings.

steve stopped just in front of you. barely conscious of what he was doing, himself. his chest was nearly against yours, staring down at you with caught breath. his posture was tense, rigid hands and knee trembling just slightly, as if he were fighting against restraints that weren’t there.

your breath caught in your throat and you tried to swallow. your chest felt as if it were going to burst and you swore steve could hear your rapid heartbeats. you swore they echoed through the entire basement, reverberating in your chest and head like a bass.

“i couldn’t sleep—“

“i’m not going to be able to sleep in there—“

you spoke at the same time, breaths catching. your eyes slowly trailed up his chest, watching in slow motion as your hand reached for him. his eyes found yours and the same storm reflected behind them from your own. there was trepidation, anxiety and softness, but then— so quickly you felt like a carpet had been pulled out from under you– there was desperation. there was hunger, possessiveness, need and something slightly feral.

steve’s hands were on your waist as your own found his chest. it was good that you braced yourself against him, you realized immediately. his lips crashed against yours and your legs nearly gave out. it was so intense— he was so intense— that your head started spinning. you desperately brought your mouth back against his, breaking apart only to deepen the kiss, tongues and teeth fighting for dominance over each other. you understood now, what kisses were always supposed to be like. you understood now what you were supposed to feel about boys. and, even more dangerously, you understood what your mother had always warned you about, incessantly, sharply, about losing all sense of control when things get too heated…

you had never found that side of this. you had kissed boys, you had made out a few times, but this was all new. the way your body felt like electric currents ran through it, the way you felt like you were burning from the inside out. you couldn’t get close enough to him suddenly, you couldn’t seem to kiss him fast enough. suddenly the clothes between you felt like restraints. suddenly you needed him to touch you and hold you against him and—

your back hit the mattress and you couldn’t even remember moving back into the room. steve was over the top of you, mouth unyielding, lips swollen and slick with both of you. steve hesitated, pupils already blown, chest rising and falling like he had run a marathon. “tell me when to stop…” his voice was ragged, strained, like he had to force the words out. your fingers tightened around his bicep as his mouth moved from your mouth and trailed down your jawline and your throat. you gasped, feeling his mouth close against your skin, closing your eyes against the very evident mark he was leaving against you.

you shuddered beneath him and moaned. your body tensed, embarrassed, horrified, then too lost in the feeling of him against you. you pulled his shirt off, steve shuddering against your knuckles sliding against him. your shirt followed shortly after and you gasped again at the feel of his mouth gently against your chest. you had never gone this far with anyone. you had never wanted to go further than this…

your fingers hesitated against the waistband of his jeans and his breath shook. his mouth left your skin, head slowly lifting to meet your eyes. steve looked down at you softly, his eyes burned with desire, desperate and needy and already missing the feel of you against him.

“are you sure…” steve’s voice was so soft. his eyes were so gentle and full of concern and softness that your breath faltered. you could have cried at the way he was looking at you.

you nodded, breathless, growing desperate. your fingers slid under his waistband and your head spun at the sensation of his skin beneath your fingertips. you slid your hands gently forward, now finding the button to his jeans. steve grabbed your wrist softly, expression turning cautionary, almost scolding, “are you sure?” his tone was firmer, more desperate, “i need to hear a yes. i don’t think i— if i keep going, i don’t think i’ll be able to stop…”

the air left your lungs then, like it had been vacuumed out. your fingers halted, loosening just slightly on his zipper. you had never done this. you had never wanted to do this… “yes.” steve’s hands tightened on your hips, eyes darkening slightly, “yes…” you pulled his jeans down slowly, past his hips and below his knees. your breath caught again, the room suddenly seeming to disappear entirely until it was just you and steve.

“i’ve never…..”

steve froze, eyes darting back to yours, softening. he swore quietly, pushing off you to sit up. you almost grabbed him to stop him, but steve didn’t go far. he looked down at you, expression soft, “we don’t have to— go further… not tonight…”

you shook your head, “steve…” he took a slow breath, watching you softly, eyes glossy. he was waiting for you to change your mind. he needed to make sure you were absolutely sure. he needed to know you meant it. and it wasn’t just because of the circumstances…

“please…”

steve kissed you again, slower now, less needy, less messy and frantic. this time calculated, slow, still desperate, gentle. he slowly fell back down against you, returning soft kisses to your bare shoulder and chest. you closed your eyes, forgetting everything except the feeling of him against you, his mouth on yours, his breath against your skin, the way he held you gentle but possessive. and the way he took his time. loving, gentle, sensual and somehow still completely desperate for you.

you fell asleep on top of him, head on his chest, legs kicked out on either side of him. steve’s arms were around your waist like you might disappear overnight. you woke against his ribs, face nestled securely between his arm and his side, held close, held securely. you placed a slow kiss on his chest before even opening your eyes, shifting to lay across him again. his arms wrapped around you again, pulling you closer. his heart beat sped up beneath your cheek as you placed another lazy kiss on his chest.

steve woke up in a start, jolting slightly, both arms steadying you as if you were in danger, “you okay? did you sleep okay?” oh, you had slept. and you were just a little bit more than okay…

you knew, before you even walked up the stairs, that you looked guilty. it may as well have been written across your faces. steve carried himself much too proudly, his expression was much too alert for just waking up in a strange place. your head did not feel connected to your body and you didn’t even want to acknowledge what the lower half of your body was doing…

murray had made breakfast and you doubted his reclusive, hates people and hosting face even more. he sat at the table, salting his eggs, eyes fixed on the paper. “good morning…” his tone was pleasant, light, almost singsongy. there was a hint of suggestion there, too—

steve sat down across from you, still looking much more refreshed and rejuvenated than he should. you lifted the orange juice to your lips and took a drink. it nearly came right back out… murray flipped the newspaper over, pushed his glasses up with one finger, “how was the pull out?”

satoru's dorm room is a mess of scattered energy drink cans and unfolded clothes, but tonight the chaos feels rather intimate. you've been together for three months now- breaking the rules between missions, sweet lisses and ENDLESS teasing that always ends in both of you wanting more. both of you are eighteen, both virgins despite all his cocky talk and tonight the tension you've been holding for so long finally snaps.

his kisses are hungry and passionate- his tongue slides up against yours and you feel his groans in your mouth. your knees are start to go weak; heat floods between your legs when you feel him smirking into the kisses. he backs you towards the bed, hands already under your shirt, palms sliding up your ribs. every touch sends tingles down your spine, to your core. his hands roa all over your body, tugging at your clothes. he takes your shirt off and you can finally catch your breath. he stares in awe- eyes wide at your bare chest, rising and falling rapidly due to your heavy panting, your breasts bouncing with each breath. the next second his mouth is on your nipple while his hand is playing with the other. the sudden wet heat makes you cry out; pleasure shoots straight to your core. he switches sides, teeth grazing, and you feel yourself getting more and more wet.

you yank his shirt off. the moment your hands touch his bare skin he shivers, he's burning hot. god, naked satoru gojo was such a sight... the way his abs flex, his defined arms... everything about him is perfect. you drag your fingers down his stomach and his dick jumps inside his boxers- you feel it against your stomach through the fabric. he kicks his pants and boxers off in one frantic motion; his cock is long, thick, flushed dark, leaking steadily and he stares at you like he’s starving.

satoru flips you onto your back and drags down both your sweatpants and panties in one smooth pull. he lines himself up, tip pressing against your entrance. he slowly pushes in one inch: you gasp; he freezes. "holy shit-- y-you feel insane". he feels every ridge of your inner walls gripping him, pulsing and he's trying his best not to slam forward into you.. but he can't resist. your hips twitch up instinctively as he slides the rest of the way in with a hoarse moan, bottoming out completely. his forehead drops to yours; both of you pant, bodies locked together. he stays still, perfectly still for ten full seconds, just breathing through the overwhelming heat wrapped around every inch of him. he's obsessed. fully obsessed with you and the way you make him feel. “i’ve never… nothing has ever felt like this,” he whispers, voice wrecked.

he starts moving- tiny rocks at first, barely pulling out an inch before sliding back in. each micro-thrust hits the perfect spot inside you, your clit grinds against his length on every downstroke. pleasure spirals higher; your nails dig into his shoulders. he groans every time you clench. "yes--just like that- fuck—"

and the pace builds up gradually. slow pushes turning into steady, deep thrusts that make the bed creak softly. you feel it—the way he’s right on the edge. he’s never felt anything like this, never been inside anyone, and the heat of you, the slick grip of your virgin pussy around him, is unraveling him completely. he feels it- every flutter, every squeeze-and his control slips. “fuck,” he growls. “you feel too good—can’t—” he cuts off with a brutal snap of his hips, driving into you so deep the bed slams against the wall. he's mean with it now, his pelvis slamming against yours in rapid motions. at this point you can't even kiss each other properly anymore, you're both moaning and groaning into each other's mouths. the room is filled with the sound of his skin slapping yours and the sloppy, wet kisses. you can feel you're about to reach your climax: "i'm gonna-- toruu--!" you come first, walls pulsing around him, vision whiting out as you cry his name. another shiver wracks him, his cock pulsing inside you, dangerously close.

he follows seconds later—burying deep with a choked groan, spilling inside you hot and thick. you feel every stroke, the way he grinds to push it deeper, like he wants it to stay.

“again,” he pants, voice hoarse with hunger. “i need to feel that again.” he doesn’t pull out. instead, he flips you onto your stomach in one swift motion, your cheek pressed to the sheets, ass lifted slightly. he re-enters from behind in one long thrust; the new angle hits deeper, stretching you fuller. you moan into the pillow as he groans loudly, hips snapping forward. round two is harder, faster— he’s not gentle anymore, not with the way he’s thrusting, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you that sends sparks up your spine. your eyes start to flutter, the pleasure building too fast, too intense. it hits you like a wave, crashing over every nerve, and before you know it, your eyes roll up into your skull as the world blurs out. all you can feel is him, his thick length buried deep, pulsing against your walls as he drives in again and again. satoru's rhythm stutters. his breathing turns ragged, almost panicked. “fuck—fuck--fuck, i can’t i'm gonna—” he slams in one last time, his release spilling hot and thick inside you.

finally, he pulls out.

you both collapse onto the mattress, breath coming in heavy gasps "hah-.. holy fuck-- *gasp*.. that was amazing.." he says, panting.

after slowly coming down from the overstimulated high, you turn your head on the other side and meet his gaze. he's all sweaty and looks like he's ready to fall asleep. he puts his hand atop yours and you both just stare into each other's eyes for a few seconds... it feels like you two are the only people in the world. you've actually never seen him this worn out and tired before, but you're certainly not complaining. he's actually really cute when he's calm and relaxed like this; plus it's a perfect opportunity to admire his features. everything just.. fits him so well. the way his hair falls in messy over his forehead, the tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes that only show up when his smile is actually genuine, the rare sight of his eyes looking dreamy and unfocused, GOD his eyes are literally breathtaking. you can't help it... you start smiling without even noticing.

he chuckles.

"what?" you say as you start giggling.

"what? can i not be happy?"

"did i say you couldn't?" you reply, booping his nose.

"c'mon.. we gotta shower" you're not even sure why you said that. your legs are probably not even functioning at this point. besides, you're way too comfortable in the state you're in right now: the wind blowing through the window, not too cold, not too fierce, the warmth of his bed, and his hand gently caressing yours.

he shifts on his back and whines, squeezing his eyes shut "nooo, i don't wannaaa.. let's just do it tomorrow.."

"y'know what, alright." you laugh softly and let him wrap his arms around your waist, nuzzling his face into the back of your neck.

a peaceful quiet settles over you both. his breathing slowly evens out, deep and steady against your neck. just before sleep claims you too, you feel his lips brush a lazy kiss against your shoulder, and his fingers give yours one last gentle squeeze.

in that moment the rest of the world feels... very far away.