★ thinking about getting caught by burglar sukuna ryomen
you hear the window click open, but you’re too far gone to care.
your shirt’s pushed up. two fingers between your legs. back arched just enough to chase the pleasure you need. the room smells like your skin and your lotion and that sweet scented candle you lit just a couple minutes before.
you thought the creak was the house settling.
you didn’t hear the footsteps.
you don’t realize he’s even there until:
“fuck.”
your whole body freezes.
there’s a man standing in your doorway. hoodie pulled low, mouth half-parted, tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves like shadows.
his eyes are on you. wide. amused. hungry.
you yank the blanket halfway up your thighs, heart hammering. “who the fuck—”
he doesn’t answer.
he steps closer.
“didn’t mean to interrupt, pretty." he says, voice low. “but you didn’t lock the window.”
you should scream. run. grab your phone.
but your fingers are still wet. your core is still pounding. and for some reason, you don’t.
“you gonna stop?” he asks.
you swallow hard. shake your head once, maybe too slow.
“good girl.”
you suck in a breath.
he sits at the edge of your bed like he owns it, watching you through half-lidded eyes.
“finish,” he says. “don’t be shy now.”
his tone is calm, almost bored. but his pants are tightening. you see it. he’s hard.
for you.
your hand slides back down.
and he watches.
close. silent. one arm draped over his knee, the other pressing the bedspread down, like he’s keeping you there.
your breathing gets heavier. his smirk grows. your hips stutter, and when you cum, it’s sharp and humiliating, under his stare.
you try to catch your breath, but he shifts closer, his hand sliding between your knees like it’s always been his.
“now,” he mutters, tugging your hips toward him, “let’s see what else you’re good at.”