"Oh really?" he asks, after you said it's your first time smoking, literally in his bed, the words a low drawl, almost teasing. He takes a long, slow drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing like a malevolent eye in the dim light. Smoke curls around his face, obscuring his features for a moment before he exhales, the air thick with the scent of tobacco and something darker, something primal. He stands there, his silhouette stark against the muted light of the room, looking down at you for a few seconds, the silence heavy with unspoken things. Then, with a fluid grace that belies his raw power, he plops down next to you on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

"I never took you for a smoker," he comments, exhaling another plume of smoke that drifts lazily towards the ceiling. He turns to look at you, his gaze lingering on your bare form, a subtle appraisal in his eyes that makes your skin prickle. The intensity of his stare is almost palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the intimacy shared, the vulnerability exposed.

A sudden, harsh cough rips through the quiet, a jarring sound in the otherwise intimate atmosphere. You struggle to catch your breath, your face flushed. "I-it's my first time," you manage to gasp out, the words barely audible.

A soft chuckle escapes Sukuna's lips, a low rumble that vibrates in your chest. He's clearly amused by your inexperience, the contrast between your composed exterior and your obvious discomfort.

"I can tell," he says, his voice softer now, almost tender. His gaze holds yours, those captivating eyes filled with a mixture of amusement, something akin to admiration, and something else… something deeper, something that leaves you breathless and uncertain.