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Summary
He wants to shout, scream, no, run away, and he wants more of that feeling. Of pink hair like his between his legs, Sukuna’s face close to his cunt, studying like one would an open book. Yuuji’s the open book, pathetic and needy and wet. It’s fucking embarrassing.
“Sukuna”, he stutters, “Stop playing. Mom wouldn’t—“
Sukuna’s expression doesn’t shift when he hums, “Mom isn’t here”.
The consequences of sharing a little too much with your big brother.
