Damien (Femboy)

22, he/they, I'm the therapist friend, I need fictional characters to hold (manhandle) me

[sugurusbeloved]

◆ MDNI | men whimpering in 4k

you’re not stupid. you know exactly what suguru is doing.

the first time, he does it so carelessly that you persuade yourself it's nothing at all. he’s carrying heavy grocery bags into the kitchen, veins bulging on his thick forearms that are currently straining against the plastic handles, and then, right as he passes your chair: “nnnhh—ahhh, fuck.”

it’s a soft, breathy purr, like he just couldn’t hold it back. you seize up, surprise and confusion hitting you at the same time as your face heats instantly. and he has the nerve to peek at you over his shoulder, mauve eyes wide and feigning surprise. “ah, sorry 'bout that. heavy bags.”

then there’s the mornings. he wakes up unrushed and lifts his arms above his head with a sluggish yawn, his back arching into a curve that hoists his shirt up ever so slightly, making him utter the most sinful sound has ever graced the earth.

“mmhh—ohhh god… yeahhhh.” and he does it without an ounce of shame too, as if a porn soundtrack in your bedroom at 8 a.m. is nothing extraordinary.

you choke on your breathe, clutching to the blankets a little too hard. when you glare at him, he only shushes you with a patronizing little tsk from across the pillows, cutting off your irritation before it can even start. “what? felt good to stretch. can't blame a guy.”

after that, it’s constant. sighs that sound just a little too much like wet moans, throaty hums when he pulls his raven hair loose from its man bun, even a breathless "ahhh—fuck” when he drops his bulky build onto the couch. each and every little sound is intentional and well-calculated. you can’t prove it, but god—he knows exactly what he’s doing.

the worst, though, is when you’re massaging his shoulders after a tiring day spent battling with curses. he’s sitting on the floor between your legs, head slumped forward to expose the long line of his neck, letting you release the thick knots in his back.

“oh-ohhh fuck, yes. right there—god, you are so good with your hands.” he drags the words out like they belong in a private bedroom, pitching into a whinier, petulant cadence which makes your pulse spike immediately.

you pause, your fingers paralyzed. “suguru. stop.” he turns his head for you to observe his lazy smile, his bottom lip jutting out just the tiniest bit in a petty pout. “whattt? i’m talking to them, not you. your hands just have a mind of their own, baby.”

you press harder into the muscle, trying to punish the smugness out of him, but the heel of your hand just forces another whimper out. “ahhh, mhhnn—yes, baby, harder... right there—”

that sly fucker.

“you're—you're doing that on purpose!”

“doing what?” he cranes his neck to look at you, eyes all wide innocence while he fights to maintain a solemn facade. “i can’t control how good it feels, no?"

his head tilts back into your lap, chasing the press of your thumbs like a curious puppy begging for attention; a satisfied, wet hum spilling from his throat.

“mnhm… don’t stop. they’re the only ones who are ever nice to me after a long day.”

his weight leans more densely into your hands, forcing your thighs to squeeze together to steady him, and that’s when you notice the tiny tilt of his hips. the thin cotton of his grey sweatpants is tenting just slightly, flimsy fabric straining with the pulsing outline of his cock. every touch of your fingers drags the material tighter, causing a dark patch to bleed across the cloth.

“you’re absolutely disgusting.” though, your voice lost all of it's footing already.

suguru lets out a throaty laugh at that as if it's the most funny thing he'd ever heard today, foxy eyes crinkling even further with humour. “am i, really? or are you just finally noticing?”

as though to back up his claim, suguru junior twitches violently beneath the thin cotton, a long ridge pressing boldly against his right thigh, to be exact. he tips his head all the way back, presenting you the elation of the smirk actively feeding his handsome face.

“hey now, don't interrupt my excellent time with your hands. i still wanna see what other things they can do."

[kittennextdoor]

"tummy bulge" ۶ৎ mxf - size kink

He’s so much bigger than you.

That’s always been true, in height, in width, in the way his body seems to swallow yours whenever he pulls you close. But nothing compares to the moment he pushes inside you. When your legs are spread wide around his hips, breathing already shaky as he slowly sinks into you. He’s thick, long, and so deep that the moment he bottoms out, your eyes flutter shut.

“Look down, baby,” he whispers, voice low and rough. One of his big hands presses gently on your lower belly. “Watch.” You look.

There it is — a visible bulge in your stomach, rising every time he thrusts forward. The shape of him is unmistakable under your skin, pressing outward with every slow, deep roll of his hips. “Fuck,” he groans, eyes fixed on the sight. “Look at that… I’m so deep inside you I can see myself.”

He pulls back slightly, then pushes in again, slower this time, watching the bulge move with him. You whimper at the overwhelming fullness, your hand instinctively reaching down to feel it. Your fingers trace the outline of his cock through your own skin, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, pressing his hand over yours so you’re both feeling it together. “That’s me, baby. That’s how deep I am. How big I am inside this tight pussy.”

He starts moving faster, hips snapping forward with controlled power. The bulge becomes more pronounced, rising and falling with every thrust. You’re gasping, moaning, completely overwhelmed by the sight and the feeling of being so utterly filled by him. He leans down, forehead pressed to yours, still watching the way his dick moves inside you.

“So fucking pretty,” he breathes. “My dick making your tummy bulge like this… You were made for me.”

When you come, it’s with his hand still pressed over the bulge, feeling every pulse as your body squeezes around him. He follows right after, groaning deeply as he spills inside you, hips grinding slow and deep so you feel every throb. He stays buried in you afterward, hand gently stroking over the slight swell in your stomach, kissing you softly.

“Love seeing that,” he whispers against your lips. “Love knowing how deep I am when I’m inside you.”

[satoruined]

18+ mdni

“you seem a bit leaner lately. been skipping meals?”

his words took a few seconds to fully register. even then, your brain stalled helplessly under the hazy after-effects of many an orgasm. typical suguru to ask this sort of question. your lover who was so fiercely protective, always watching over those closest to him with an observant, gentle eye. (if only he spared a fraction of that care for himself, instead of constantly putting his own well-being last.)

“h-huh? no, i’ve been eating,”

“is that so?”

he cooed, mauve eyes glittering with jest. before you could even try to defend your appetite, a pleasantly deep thrust buried him to the hilt, making your toes curl. tears born of overstimulation and adoration pooled at the corners of your eyes. a stray strand of his raven bangs tickled your cheek as he leaned over you, his thumb sweeping to catch the bead of moisture.

“because i was wondering why the shape right here...” his palm slid down to press on the newfound swell of your lower belly—the protrusion providing proof that he was stretching you out from the inside— “looks so beautifully obvious.”

[scr33nplay]

Baseball Wesker for my friend..

I used a baseball jc leyendecker piece as a reference!

[zaynezone]

“Yeah I’m just getting into bed right now.”

A pretty bold faced lie, considering you’re about three steps from the entrance to the Nest. Sylus hums on the other side of the phone, clearly none the wiser.

“How fitting. I’m just waking up.” He doesn't sound too tired but you don't press the subject. The last thing you need is for him to get suspicious.

"Well, alright, I'll call you when I wake up? Goodnight, love you!" You hang up quickly, slipping inside the dark club.

You hate to lie to Sylus, really you do. A relationship is built on trust after all. Especially given his line of work. He doesn't lie to you, and you don't lie to him.

Well, at least before tonight.

"This is an interesting outfit for bed, sweetie." Sylus relaxes in a rather ornate chair, while you stand before him, sighing. Apparently, your lead on a big deal tonight had been wrong. Or, more likely, it had been right, but the buyer wasn't exactly someone you planned to hand over to the Association. At least, not until you kill him.

"Just waking up, huh?" You scoff, walking over to sink into his lap. The various men in the room are quick to slip out, not wanting to get tangled in Sylus's personal life.

"Shall we call it a truce?" His arms come around you, resting his chin on your shoulder possessively.

"...Fine. But answer this. Did you set this up on purpose?"

He leans back in the chair, eyes running over you and the expensive outfit you'd donned to "fit in" to the clubs interior.

"Isn't it obvious?"

[guooey]

Beautiful cow who is mooing at you

[louisegluckpdf]

they won't tell you this in therapy but sometimes the best way to stop catastrophizing/anxiety is to interrupt your spiraling with "girl what the hell are you talking about"

[ytpreviews]

It's not a cure but you have no idea how many times this image has helped me with my OCD

[notgreatthanks]

This tag has been more effective than any meds I’ve ever taken

[sukunaslilgurl]

Sukuna using toys on you

This time, he’s having a little too much fun with his favorite toys. I hope you’ll enjoy reading this, it is the second nsfw part i promised of him 👀

Please be aware: this story is explicit and intended for readers 🔞only

And like always, if you have any requests or ideas, leave them for me I love seeing what everyone wants next

The penthouse lights are dimmed low, casting a sensual red glow across the master bedroom. You’re completely naked, lying on your back in the center of the massive bed. Your wrists are tied loosely above your head with soft black silk ropes and your legs are spread wide, ankles secured to the corners of the bed, leaving you fully exposed and vulnerable.

Sukuna stands at the foot of the bed, shirtless, wearing only black pants. A dangerous, predatory smirk plays on his lips as he looks down at your helpless body.

“Tonight,” he says slowly, his voice deep and commanding, “I’m going to play with my favorite toy.”

He reaches into the drawer and lays out several items beside you on the bed:

• A powerful wand vibrator

• A thick, realistic dildo

• A medium-sized metal butt plug

• A pair of vibrating nipple clamps

• A remote-controlled egg vibrator

Your breathing quickens as you watch him, heart pounding with anticipation.

Sukuna picks up the vibrating nipple clamps first. He leans down, sucking on each of your nipples until they’re hard and aching, then attaches the clamps. You gasp sharply as the intense bite of pleasure-pain shoots through your chest.

“Fuck…” you moan, back arching off the bed.

He turns them on to a low setting, making you squirm and whimper. Then he picks up the remote-controlled egg vibrator, turns it on and slowly pushes it deep inside your pussy.

A loud moan escapes your lips as the vibrations start deep within you, your hips twitching involuntarily.

He doesn’t stop there.

Next, he takes the metal butt plug, coats it generously with lube and presses it against your tight back entrance. You feel the cool pressure as he slowly pushes it inside you. Once it’s fully seated, he gives it a little tug, making you whimper helplessly.

“Such a greedy woman,” he murmurs, voice dark with satisfaction. “Taking everything I give you so well.”

Finally, he picks up the powerful wand vibrator and presses the buzzing head directly against your swollen clit.

You cry out, body jerking hard against the restraints as intense pleasure floods your system.

Sukuna turns up the intensity of all the toys at once — the egg vibrating deep inside your pussy, the plug shifting with every twitch of your body, the nipple clamps sending sparks of electricity through your breasts, and the wand mercilessly attacking your clit.

“Oh my god…Sukuna!” you moan loudly, head thrown back, body trembling uncontrollably.

He watches you with dark, hungry eyes while slowly pumping the thick dildo in and out of your pussy alongside the egg vibrator, stretching you even fuller.

“You’re going to cum until you can’t anymore,” he says darkly, increasing the speed of the dildo. “I want you shaking, dripping, begging for mercy…”

Your moans quickly turn into desperate, broken cries as the overwhelming pleasure builds rapidly. Your thighs shake violently, toes curling in the air. Sukuna keeps fucking you with the dildo while the wand presses hard against your clit.

You cum hard with a loud scream your whole body convulsing, pussy gushing around the toys as waves of intense pleasure crash through you. But Sukuna doesn’t stop. He keeps every single toy going at full intensity, pushing you straight into a second, even stronger orgasm.

Tears of overwhelming pleasure run down your cheeks as you gasp and moan his name over and over, body shaking uncontrollably.

Sukuna leans down, biting your neck possessively while still working all the toys on your sensitive body.

“That’s it, little brat,” he growls against your skin. “Keep cumming for me.”

Thank you so much for the support❤️

Read more similar stuff:

Post by @sukunaslilgurl · 3 images

💬 0  🔁 4  ❤️ 30 · How would Sukuna be in Bed · Finally getting myself deeper into Sukuna NSFW stories… and I already wrote three parts of it

Post by @sukunaslilgurl · 3 images

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 0 · 𝕊𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒𝕤 𝔽𝕒𝕔𝕖 · Third part is finally here 🖤 And honestly… Sukuna is absolutely starving for us in this one…i im

[polaroidsex]

🜼 ⋆ sukuna dicking your soul down rough til you pass out.

every time sukuna thrusts rough, you lose consciousness—

or almost. you wish you could. you wish your body would give you that mercy. but sukuna—? sukuna won’t let you.

“no,” he growls against your skin when your eyes roll back, when your breath stutters and your neck goes soft in his grip. “don’t start fading on me again. stay the fuck here.”

you try. fuck, you try. but it’s so hard to keep your mind inside your body when he’s fucking you this deep—this long—this cruelly. when the world folds in on itself and your belly feels split open from the inside.

he’s not even slamming into you anymore. not fast, not frenzied. just slow, hard thrusts like he’s hammering you into the floor with the weight of his entire body. and each one cracks you open a little more.

each one makes the edges of your vision shiver.

you manage a sound—gghhh—but it’s not a word. it’s not even a whimper. your mouth is hanging open, tongue pressed dumb against your teeth, brain full of nothing but him.

but you want to speak. you need to and so you force it. push the air up your throat and force it to shape.

“you’re… kuna— too deep!”

his palm tightens at your neck. not choking, not cutting off anything vital—just letting you know he could.

“oh, am i,” he asks, voice smooth and mean now, laced with satisfaction. he pulls out nearly to the tip. holds. waits. and then—

slams forward.

the shock of it lights up your whole spine.

“say it,” he taunts, bending low over your back. “go ahead. tell me to stop.”

“sukuna—” you sob, trying to drag his name out of your wrecked throat. “i— i can’t— i’m— i’m gonna—”

you don’t even know what you’re saying. the words aren’t forming right. they slip out soft and breathless and wrong, syllables knocked loose by the steady rhythm of his hips driving into yours.

but he laughs. quiet, low in your ear. so fucking pleased.

“you’re gonna what?” he says. “pass out again? go dumb on my cock?”

you shake your head, even though it’s true. you’re so close to it—vision fluttering, limbs going watery, your cunt clenching around him like you’re begging for it anyway.

“no— i’m tryin’—” your voice cracks. “i’m tryin’ to stay—”

“then stay,” he snaps, hand slipping from your throat to your jaw, forcing your face toward him even though your eyes can’t quite focus. “you begged for this, remember? told me to fuck the brat out of you. told me you could take it.”

another thrust—sharp, brutal—and your body jerks. your knees slide farther apart. drool spills down your chin.

and still, you try. one more breath. one more word.

“kuna, b-baby—” but this time, all you get is black.

[kkunai]

[𝝑𝑒] :: calling true form!sukuna by a nickname for the first time :: tags. fluff, sfw.

“ryo,” it rolls off your tongue naturally. as if you’ve called him that thousands of times before. you don’t realise it until he suddenly stops in his tracks.

sukuna narrows his eyes. you turn your head and look up, oblivious to your slip-up. the sorcerer doesn’t utter a word and instead glares down at your short frame. he looks irritated, or more annoyed.

“oh,” you realise why only a few seconds after.

you bow your head at him and try to explain yourself in a hurry. normally, you’d address him with respect like everyone else does. ‘my lord’, ‘lord sukuna’, or even ‘master’.

you nearly fall to your knees. you don’t know how or what sukuna’s going to do now that you’ve dropped the honorifics on accident and called him by a nickname.

you hold your hands together, “my deepest apologi—“

“again,” sukuna demands in a rough voice.

you freeze for a second before tilting your head back. you catch a glimpse of his expression; he’s amused, intrigued and perhaps still a bit annoyed. he repeats, “call me that again.”

sukuna isn’t annoyed by the fact that you’ve called him by a nickname for the first time. he’s annoyed, because your sweet voice makes him feel stuff he’s sworn to never feel for a regular human.

that warm feeling in his chest. . . he hates it. yet he yearns for it. from you.

you hesitate for a second, unsure if the firm tone in sukuna’s voice was a bad sign or not. you decide to just comply and hope for the best, “. . . ryo.”

sukuna grits his teeth. you think he’s mad, but in reality, he’s trying to eliminate the feelings of love from within him. your voice calling him so affectionately—so intimately; it makes him feel that warmth in his chest.

no one’s dared to call him anything like that before. everyone’s formal with him. it’s a must. sukuna’s used to everyone acknowledging his superiority in the conversations he holds. it’s a given.

no one refers to him so casually. no one dares to.

you’re the first one to break that pattern. the first one to make sukuna’s cold heart tremble. if it were anyone else, they’d be his dinner by now. but it’s you so it’s. . . fine, he assumes. an exception.

silence falls in the hallway. luckily, not another soul is around to witness the king of curses struggling to contain his own ‘foolish’ emotions.

sukuna clicks his tongue and sighs before continuing to walk ahead of you.

you scurry after him—keeping your head low. you don’t wish to upset him any further. you feel like you overstepped a boundary just now.

the silence continues for a couple seconds, both of you deep in thought.

sukuna’s the one to end the quiet atmosphere. his voice is as deep and cold as ever, though there’s no denying the subtle softness that creeps in whenever he talks with you.

he takes a deep breath and sighs. he keeps walking and doesn’t spare you a glance, however his words say enough;

“from now on, that’s the only way you’ll address me until i say otherwise, understood?”

[anniewinniie]

Nightwing x gojo

check my insta anniewinniie ok

[cutecipher]

>treaty

>dont get any treats for signing it

>princess beam attack

[natti-ice]

[naomiiocha]

FRAT!JO!!! FRAT!KUNA!! FLASH US!!!!! (Definitely was not an excuse to draw abs)

[adoring-jjk]

pro tip: don't talk bad about yourself in front of sukuna | mdni suggestive

to say sukuna doesn't like when you disrespect yourself would be untrue, because he doesn't even let you get that far. you're his, which means when you talk bad about yourself, you're offending him too.

he'll slap your ass as he passes by you getting a bowl of fruit in the kitchen, in nothing but one of his shirts and an old pair of pj shorts, hair a mess. he lets out a "fuck, don't tempt me right now," his eyes scanning you from head to toe with that familiar heat in them.

your brows furrow in confusion and you literally go to the bathroom to look in the mirror to check that your appearance didn't magically ameliorate from the last time you saw yourself. he follows you and you're almost offended when you look in the mirror. is he playing a prank on you?

"what? i literally look-"

his hand comes to grab your throat gently but firm, a brow raised as he stares down at you and then through the mirror. "you look what?" his gaze is daring you to say something negative.

you can feel that he's not joking. you swallow, "um, good?"

he hums satisfied and pulls you closer, bending down to kiss you, the way his tongue smoothly finds its way into your mouth has heat spreading through your body.

he pulls back and looks you over again appreciatively, smushing your cheeks playfully before walking away. "s'what i thought."

[fxiryzxne]

& what if I shit talked myself?? Then what? Gonna fuck it outta me??? I DARE HIM

[ma0chi77]

wipp

[creamflixx]

𖦏    /brief:   x male reader. post breakup comfort. alcohol use. mentions of emotionally distant relationship. mutual pining. first kiss. emotionally constipated men. friends to something-more.

your thumb hovered over the send button longer than necessary, but the fizz in your head, the kind that came from lukewarm beer and heartbreak, pushed you over the edge. it wasn’t poetry, it wasn’t even that coherent, but it was honest.

you [7:51PM] sukuna i feel like i’m bleeding and there’s no wound you [7:51PM] can u come.  you [7:52 PM] beach bench, the dumb one by the coconut stand.

you didn't expect a reply. sukuna wasn’t the type to indulge in emotional theatrics, and you were definitely being theatrical. but the text had barely gone through when you saw the three dots bounce on screen like an arrhythmic heartbeat. then:

sukuna [7:52PM] stay where you are. don’t do anything stupid.

you scoffed out loud, the sound swallowed by the rolling hush of the sea. the horizon was bruising purple now, the sun a low ember in the sky. all around, the world was winding down, gentle and domestic — mothers herding sandy children off the beach, tired vendors folding their carts shut, laughter trailing like ribbons in the air. and there you sat, alone, your heart cracked open like driftwood, drinking beer for dinner because food felt like a betrayal your stomach wasn’t ready for.

the buzz in your chest wasn’t just alcohol. it was grief, sharp and glassy, and the phantom press of your ex-girlfriend’s fingers still curled around your wrist. she had left too gently, like she thought it would hurt less that way. she was wrong.

you heard sukuna before you saw him — the crunch of his boots on dry sand, the irritated exhale he never bothered to hide. he appeared beside you, dressed in black like the mourning party you never threw yourself.

“you reek of beer,” he muttered, sitting down without looking at you.

“good,” you said, your voice a little too light, a little too gone. “that’s exactly what i was going for.”

sukuna didn’t respond. he just let the silence thicken, the way he always did when words would only dilute the pain instead of fixing it. you caught his profile in the amber glow of a streetlamp — sharp jaw, pierced brow, annoyance etched into his brow like it had signed a lease there.

“she said i was too much,” you said quietly, staring out at the ocean. “that i felt too hard. asked me why i couldn’t just… ‘enjoy the moment’ instead of obsessing over everything.”

“that’s rich,” he muttered. “you were dating a girl who reads co-star like it’s gospel.”

you huffed a laugh, the beer sloshing a little as you leaned back. “she said i drained her.”

“then good fucking riddance,” sukuna said, tone clipped. “let her go charge her crystals somewhere else.”

you turned to look at him, surprised by the venom. his face was neutral but his hands — always a tell — were clenched on his knees.

“you don’t mean that,” you said.

“no, i do,” he replied. “you’re allowed to feel like shit. you’re not allowed to think you deserved it.”

you blinked, throat suddenly tight. “i feel like an open wound,” you whispered. “like everyone can see it.”

sukuna finally looked at you. really looked. and for once, there was no eye-roll, no sarcasm, no biting remark. just him. unguarded, watching you like someone trying to read an unfamiliar language.

“then let me sit here until it scabs over,” he said.

and that — that was the thing with sukuna. he didn’t say the right things. he wasn’t going to tell you that you’d find someone better, or that everything happened for a reason. but he would sit beside you while your heart howled. he’d buy you water when you threw up your third beer. he’d wait until you remembered how to laugh without feeling like you were betraying your sadness.

and he was here. which meant everything.

by the time the beer fizzed through your bloodstream like static, you were half-lounging on the bench with your head tipped back, letting the sea breeze slap at your face like it owed you something. you were deep into that sweet spot of drunkenness where every sad thought started sounding profound — where every sentence felt like a monologue that deserved a slow clap.

“she wasn’t that bad, you know,” you mumbled, eyes squinting at the stars peeking through the purple-grey sky. “we just… we didn’t kiss much. but like — like, we held hands. and sometimes she’d put her head on my shoulder. that counts for something, right?”

sukuna was mid-sip, the cheap beer tilted to his lips, when he physically choked on it. full-body sputter, head jerked forward, beer foam catching on the edge of his mouth as he coughed like he’d inhaled carbonation and confusion at the same time.

“wait. waitwaitwait—” he slapped a palm on his chest. “you tellin’ me — how long were you even together?”

“almost a year,” you said proudly, like that statistic would cushion the blow.

he stared at you slack-jawed. possibly a little horrified. the beer can was halfway in his hand like he was trying to decide whether to keep drinking or just pour it over your head.

“a year,” he repeated slowly. “a whole year, and you didn’t even — what, make out? a kiss? a single shove-up-against-the-wall situation?”

you winced. “we kissed. just not… often.”

sukuna turned toward you so fast you could hear the fabric of his hoodie rustle. “bro,” he said, voice gone hoarse with disbelief. “not often? not often? what does that mean? you kissed once and high-fived after like it was a business transaction?”

you groaned, dragging your palms over your face. “jesus, sukuna—”

“nah, i’m genuinely trying to understand,” he said, leaning back now, one arm draped over the back of the bench, the other gesturing wildly with the can. “you dated this girl for a whole calendar year, and your lips were — what? in a holding pattern? circling the runway, never landing?”

you laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. “it wasn’t like that. we just weren’t… physical, i guess.”

“you weren’t physical,” sukuna corrected with a raised brow. “don’t drag her down into this virgin trench with you.”

you stared at him. “i’m not a virgin.”

“no, of course not,” he said, voice saturated in sarcasm. “you just skipped the kissing part. went straight from awkward side hugs to shared trauma and heartbreak.”

you reached out and smacked his arm, and he laughed — a low, rough sound, full of amusement but not mean. there was always a sharpness to sukuna, but when he liked you, he wielded it like a toy knife. he glanced sideways at you, and his voice lowered, just a touch. “look, i’m not saying kissing’s everything. but if you’re telling me the whole relationship was just, like, emotionally intense hand-holding and long-ass text messages… yeah, ’m gonna make fun of you.”

you snorted, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. “i liked her. i didn’t need to kiss her all the time. she made me feel… grounded. like when everything was shit, she was this calm little island.”

sukuna looked at you, his mouth twitching — not quite a frown, not quite a smile. 

“and what are you now?” he asked. “adrift?”

you were quiet.

“you’re allowed to want more,” he added, softer now. “not just love that keeps you grounded, but the kind that lifts you the fuck up. makes you feel like you’re gonna float out of your damn shoes.”

you blinked, stunned at the sudden sincerity.

“...what kind of sapphic wattpad shit was that,” you muttered, throat tight. 

he snorted. “shut up. i’ve been watching romance dramas with my family. don’t make it weird.”

but even as he said it, sukuna leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and passed the can back to you without a word. the glint in his eye hadn’t dulled, but there was a gentleness tucked underneath now, the kind he only showed in quiet, moonlit places like this.

“next time,” he said, staring out at the waves, “date someone who kisses the hell out of you just because they can. alright?”

you took the can from his hand, brushing fingers for a beat too long. 

“alright,” you said. “you gonna screen them for me?”

he rolled his eyes. “nah, i’ll scare them off. easier that way.”

and he meant it.

you were finishing the last inch of the beer when sukuna asked it — the kind of question that sounded like it slipped out before he could decide if he meant to ask it or not.

“you ever wonder what it’s like?”

you looked up, confused. “what what’s like?”

he tapped the rim of the can with a blunt fingernail, avoiding your gaze. “kissing,” he said. “y’know. the thing your year-long relationship apparently skipped like a side quest.”

you squinted at him, smirking. “you really can’t get over that, huh?”

“i’m just saying,” sukuna muttered, side-eyeing you. “it’s basic relationship stuff. i didn’t think i’d have to explain this to a grown-ass man.”

“then explain it,” you challenged, eyes narrowing. “what’s it supposed to feel like, kiss expert?”

his face twisted — not in annoyance, but something closer to panic wearing a thin disguise. he ran a hand through his hair, eyes darting up to the sky as if the answer was hiding in the clouds. 

“i dunno,” he said, voice higher than usual. “it just — happens. it’s like breathing, or… sneezing. but with lips. and feelings. and, uh, spit.”

you barked a laugh. “spit and feelings. wow. romantic.”

“shut up,” he groaned, turning his face away and rubbing the back of his neck. “i didn’t come here to give a TED talk on making out.”

“so what, you just know when it’s supposed to happen?” you asked, watching him carefully. “like the universe sends a kiss alert to your brain?”

“basically,” he said with a shrug, still not looking at you. “you’ll know. when it’s right. you just… know.”

you leaned in a little, squinting at him with mock seriousness. “okay, mr. mystic. so when is the right moment? or should i wait until the stars align and a shooting star spells out ‘smooch’ above my head?”

he turned to you, finally, mouth open like he had something clever to say. but then he really looked — really looked — at you, his lips didn’t move. not for a second. his arm was still behind you, elbow resting on the bench’s back like it was nothing. but now, his fingers were ghosting against your shoulder, spread wide and uncertain, like he couldn’t decide whether to pull away or pull you in.

you weren’t sure who leaned first. maybe both of you did. it wasn’t a crash or a blur — it was slow, like the air between you both had thickened into honey, and neither of you wanted to break it too fast.

his lips were warm. dry, a little hesitant. like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be doing this, but something in him had already made the decision before his brain could object. the kiss wasn’t deep, not at first. it was a press — soft, almost shy, like the two of you were younger versions of yourselves who didn’t know where to put your hands yet.

you didn’t rush it.

and that was the strange thing. you didn’t feel impatient. you didn’t feel clumsy. you just felt. 

the warmth of his fingers tightening against your shoulder. the slight tremble in the breath he exhaled through his nose. the way the salt from the sea mixed with beer and something distinctly sukuna on your tongue. when you finally pulled apart, just a few inches, his eyes blinked open slow — lashes low, gaze unfocused. then he grinned.

boyishly.

you hadn’t seen that exact smile in a long time — not since the first time you met him in college orientation, when he mistook you for someone else and laughed about it for twenty minutes straight. it was wide and sheepish, all crooked teeth and unguarded charm, like he’d tripped over his own shoelaces and kissed you by accident.

“so,” he said, clearing his throat. “that was… okay?”

you stared, then let out a breathy laugh. “better than sneezing.”

he laughed too, rubbing the back of his neck again like he couldn’t figure out what to do with himself now. “yeah, well. there’s more where that came from. if the stars ever say so again.”

you leaned into him this time, shoulder against his chest. “i think they already did.”

he didn’t say anything. just tucked you a little closer, arm finally wrapping around your back like he’d been waiting the whole night to do it.