Sukuna's POV.
Tsk... what a pitiful creature.
It does not even have the balls to crawl out of the sewers like the other trash. No—this one oozes out of tongues... from whimpers in the dark, from the rancid breath of kitchens, from those pathetic little "what bad luck" complaints. Put three scraps of misery together and the place spits out a slimy blotch that feeds on whining.
Pathetic.
I could crush it without even looking… but I won't.
I look at her.
The waitress. She does not cry, she does not scream, does not preach. She commands. She turns off the gas, opens the door, serves tea like nothing's happening, and at the same time carves the floor with salt, like a scar stitched by force.
And her words? Short, cutting — "out," "calm," "now."
And look! The little beast collapses, starved of its food.
Ahahaha! Just some random wench, yet sharp enough to choke out a cursed spirit with three syllables. Insects like you bore me, Yuji — or whatever your name is... but her? Ah, someone like her makes me laugh while I tear flesh apart.
What a filthy little jewel!
Oh, look who shows up... the vessel. Panting like a stray dog, yellow hoodie, clean hands. For once he does not whine, does not shout. He draws half a circle in the air and the little beast is trapped inside.
Adequate.
Not that he usually is.
And then... ah, finally, something worth watching.
The blotch hits the pot, the pot bounces into the pan of oil. And the oil... ah, there it goes, racing for the edge. And nearby lay that woman's hand. The hand that keeps the hall steady, that counts, that moves. If it burns now, the balance shatters. Fear comes in, measure goes out. And I don't want that. I want the whole scene intact.
So I calculate.
Trajectory of the oil, height of the lid, distance to the wrist. I don't need strength. Just angle. One touch and the entire show stays mine.
Pathetic... you flail around like rats in a kitchen and I decide who stays whole and who gets burned. Ahahah!
Tsk... I shift the vessel by a fraction. A twitch in the side, the elbow "accidentally" brushes the lid... and the lid bounces, intercepts the spill. The drop that slips away? I bend it before it ever scorches her skin. A cold breath, just enough to tilt the brat's wrist.
No one sees. No one must see. But she feels it. That touch that does not exist.
And do not get it twisted, Yuji. This is not kindness. I do not do favors. I owe no debts. It is an investment. I need her hand intact, to see just how far her method holds.
The rest is filth: the vessel finishes the job, the core breaks, the blotch crawls back into the baseboard like smoke. The light returns. Parents kissing, thanking, shaking hands. Home, family, soup... ahahaha, what pathetic idols!
The hall breathes again. I take note. And you, Yuji... you're not even worth the strain of a glance.
The waitress looks at her wrist for half a second. She knows something brushed her. She does not know what. Good. Mystery is worth more than gratitude—it keeps her eyes open.
Do not misinterpret this. Do not throw my words into garbage like "crush," "infatuation," or any other human stupidity. I choose, and I have chosen her as a subject worth studying: normalcy that does not shatter at the first hit, boundaries spoken softly and held, the ability to strip away the noise until only the functional remains.
Most of the living break under volume... she endures the silence. It's Rare.
The vessel? Bah. Docile enough to be useful. I will keep him standing as long as he amuses me. His "sweetness"? A key. It opens doors I have no interest in dirtying my own hands to force. I will use the key, if needed. And when it is no longer useful... I will bend it until it breaks.
I mark a point beneath the skin. Not a mouth— not yet. A small, living nail.
Aiko.
I keep the name inside—short, sharp, without sugar. From now on, if I need to save her hand to keep the game alive, I will. If I need to let her collapse from exhaustion just to see where her measure breaks, I will.
Do not mistake my patience for kindness. It is nothing but a knife held between the teeth, waiting for the right angle.
Tonight the restaurant won by a single centimeter, and that is enough for me to keep watching. Tomorrow we will see if her normalcy weighs more than my hunger... or how long it takes to break under it.
In the meantime, keep your temporary happy ending: lights on, laughter, promised food. Ihavealready taken what I needed. And her hand... it is still intact.
***
At the end of her shift, once back home, Aiko's room door slowly closed.
She had turned on a small lamp with a soft glow and the scent of rice shampoo filled the air.
She took off her shoes and put them away in the wardrobe; her sneakers, instead, were lined up under the window.
Aiko slipped off her white socks and noticed Yuji's yellow sweatshirt on her desk. As usual, she stole it, smiling with her eyes; he stood there for a moment, watching her with his uncertain hands resting behind his neck. He was wearing a fitted white tank top.
"You're sexy..." Aiko said, sitting on the bed with her legs dangling. He blushed, then moved closer and hugged her. Yuji held her gently, his chin in her hair.
"I missed you so much today, even though you were six feet away."
She took his face in her hands and kissed him. A small, sweet kiss. Yuji looked at her and smiled:
"Can I do something... stupid?" he asked.
"Tell me."
"I wanna take your mind off everything... with kisses." He finished the sentence, smiled. "Like...I'll start from here." He pointed to her temple. "Then here." He touched her cheek. "Then... here." He leaned in and kissed her on the mouth.
Aiko took his wrist and squeezed it tightly. "Yes, okay. I'm in," she replied.
Yuji swallowed, gathered his courage and let out his only slightly bolder sentence: "Tonight I want to memorize you. I want to study every part of you. Without skipping lines."
His eyes were shining, his gaze embarrassed but determined. Aiko felt that familiar shiver run down her spine. "Then study hard," she murmured. "I'm all yours."
"Ah... I know that... you're only mine," he replied and moved closer with his cheeks red and his breathing shallow.
It began with a light kiss on her forehead, just a soft touch of his lips.
Then he slowly moved toward her temples, brushing her skin with a warmth that made her breath tremble. Aiko closed her eyes, letting herself be carried away by that tenderness only Yuji seemed able to give her—a tenderness that asked for nothing, yet said everything.
His hands large and warm rested on either side of her face, framing her features. He kissed her cheeks, one and then the other, lingering a little longer this time, pausing just enough to feel her breathing against him.
Aiko's breathing changed, becoming deeper, thicker, her chest rising and falling faster and faster. Slowly, she raised her gaze to his. She stared at him and for a moment the world around her seemed to hold its breath, waiting for what would happen next.
She took off her sweatshirt, leaving her in a bra and a tight white crop top, which further highlighted her soft, ample breasts. Yuji kissed her neck softly, his hands resting on her shoulders. Then he moved lower across her chest, glancing up at her. Their eyes met for a brief moment while Aiko moaned.
Yuji pushed her white top and bra upward. Her breasts shifted freely, as though just released and he grabbed them with both hands, massaged them, breathing slowly. He kissed first one nipple, then the other.
"Yuji... run your tongue... please..."
He obeyed, parting his lips to take one into his mouth, then the other.
"Yes... like that... my love..."
Yuji's breathing quickened at that moment.
"When... you call me "my love"... I go crazy..." Yuji confessed in a whisper, holding her by his side.
Aiko stood up, spread her legs and gazed at him with those lustful, languid blue eyes.
"Come on, Yuji... lick me here too..." she whispered.
He leaned in, his tongue brushing across his lips. Then, he ran his tongue around her pussy, he sucked it and played with her clit. Aiko quivered above him, covering her mouth with her hand—her parents were in the next room—to keep herself quiet.
"But… is it true that… you'll let me suck it a little… first?" she asked, her voice breaking into a soft moan.
Yuji pulled down his pants and boxers just enough to free himself. She stood above him, watching. He was huge, hard as stone.
He nodded, still anchored between her legs while he began to touch himself, slowly. Aiko was as excited as ever and after a few minutes, growing impatient, she pulled away from his tongue and moved toward his penis, kneeling on the floor with her mouth between his legs. She curled her tongue around him, tracing small circles over the tip. Yuji's body trembled beneath her.
Then she took him all the way in, until the tip of her nose pressed against his abdomen. Yuji moaned softly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, one eye squeezed shut. Aiko could feel his ragged breathing, his abdomen rising and falling in uneven bursts, his body trembling with pleasure. She took his cock in one hand and slowly swallowed it, careful not to make a sound. Her eyes stayed on his as she sucked him gently.
"Aiko… I like it so much… I'm already about to…" he whispered, propping himself up on his elbows. Aiko didn't pause for even a second; instead, she quickened her pace and tightened her mouth around him.
Yuji began breathing harder and harder. "Oh...Aiko...I...can't..."
He placed a hand behind her head, pressing her down even farther. She lifted for an instant, but he guided her back, all the way. His head fell back as the wave overtook him, spilling onto Aiko's tongue and rushing down her throat. Aiko looked up at him in ecstasy and swallowed everything; then she smiled, happy to see how much he was enjoying it. She climbed on top of him.
"Do you want to… take a break?" Aiko whispered in his ear.
He didn't answer. With one hand he grasped his hard length, and with the other he guided Aiko's body toward him.
"Let me… stay inside you…" he murmured, holding her gaze.
She gazed at him softly, without a word. Then she nodded. She lowered her hips, the tip of his cock brushing against her before she slowly took him in. Yuji arched his back at once.
"Yes, my love… let me always feel how much you like it. Don't ever hide it."
Aiko stayed there, seated on him, staring down at him, breathless. Yuji looked back at her—he wanted her with all his being—so he began to move slowly from below, aching to feel her. But Aiko remained still.
"Everything...everything okay?" Yuji asked, his face red and his eyes shining. He was beautiful.
Standing on top of him, Aiko could see all of him and, for once, she could take the time to really look at him.
Yuji, lying down, had amber-colored eyes, a shade darker than usual, bright and fixed on her.
The redness of his ears betrayed his emotion; a smile lingered, suspended at the corner of his mouth. When she brushed a lock away from his forehead, his hair slipped through her fingers—soft from heat and haste.
Yuji's hands rested gently on her waist; every so often his fingers pressed a little tighter, as if to say I'm here, only to grow light again a moment later. Aiko felt his desire beneath her fingertips—faster at first, steadier after—and found herself wanting to commit it to memory.
She had begun to move her hips slowly, and he matched her; she lifted her eyes, he held her gaze without looking away, blushing and smiling at the same time. In that moment, Aiko thought that her Yuji was exactly like this: strong without causing pain, present without intruding, able to surprise her with a gentle courage—and then blush at his own boldness.
Beneath her, Yuji's legs moved in silence. His thighs formed a steady base with the knees bent; they tensed and released with a rhythm that gave her both balance and lift. Each small push from below rose up to her hips in a way that was measured, assured. There was support. Aiko felt it—him beneath her, strong and gentle—and she allowed herself to be guided only when she wished, keeping herself at the center of the moment.
On the other hand, Aiko was above him, close enough to fill his entire field of vision. The dim light traced a breathtaking profile: her straight blonde hair fell down to her hips, at times brushing against his forehead. When she tucked it behind her ear and turned her face for a moment, her nose—with its beautiful profile, that clean, slightly Italian line—caught the light in profile, leaving Yuji spellbound, stealing his breath away.
Her blue eyes held him still: clear, intent, with that touch of sweetness that yielded only when she chose. Lower down, Yuji watched her collarbones flare and fade with each breath, her small yet steady shoulders, the slender waist that his hands enclosed without tightening. Aiko's hips set the rhythm for him.
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Yuji said. Then he blushed again, he didn't stop holding her.
Aiko smiled and kissed him.
"I love you, Yuji…"
"I love you too…"
"But… now I'm going to ride you until I cum…" She guided his hands to her breasts. "Please, Yuji… don't hold back today. Fuck me properly, okay?"