Hai everypony

mwahh 💋

cw: mdni. explicit sexual content (he is sober). plot-heavy, alcohol mention, angst, lowkey long asf, vertical prone bone, domdaddy!kuna.

you wrinkle your nose at the distinctive smell of tap beer as you push through the double doors to the bar. the lights are dim, the bar packed with groups and couples of people chatting noisily. a few rowdy men cheer at the tv screen that’s airing a soccer match.

you’d really have rather been anywhere other than here on a friday evening after a long day at work, but you were already on your way out of the office when you got the call. you frowned at the contact, mildly surprised. mostly confused.

for a whole, blissful month, you’d successfully avoided sukuna following the kitchen counter incident, for very good reason—and you weren’t exactly expecting a call any time soon.

“hello?”

“hello,” a voice had said back that was definitely not your ex’s. “uh, are you this guy’s girlfriend.”

you stopped in your path, planted a hand on your hip. “who’s speaking?”

“i work at the bar on king’s street. uh…this dude is pretty plastered. we stopped serving him an hour ago, but he won’t leave. just keeps saying he misses his girlfriend.”

“okay…” you pressed your lips together. “well, you’ve got the wrong number, i’m not his girlfriend. buh-bye—”

“hold on!” the bartender called out before you got to cut the line. “we’ll kinda need you to come pick him up, ‘cause you’re the one he has down as his emergency contact.”

you closed your eyes, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose.

which is how you find yourself in the bar in your office skirt and blouse, gaze scanning over the crowd until they land on a certain someone.

your ex isn’t exactly easy to hide. you can see his broad back even from a distance, bulking frame balancing on a barstool, hunched over the bar with his head in his hands.

you sigh through your nose before you walk through the crowd towards him. jab him in the shoulder with your almond shaped nail. he doesn’t flinch. doesn’t look up, not even after the second time.

“ryomen,” you say, voice flat.

at first you think he’s going to ignore you again. but then he lifts his head from his hands ever so slightly, like he’s trying to figure out if he heard correctly. he looks up slowly out of the corner of one crimson eye.

when he sees you with the look of an unimpressed mother, his features soften ever so slightly, brows raising with a flicker of surprise. then he looks up fully. manually pulls his brows back down into his signature smoulder.

“what are you doing here?” he husks quietly, but his deep voice carries over all the noise. it always has.

you press your lips together in a sardonic smile. “picking your drunk ass up. let’s go.”

you go to turn on your heels, but a large hand wraps around your wrist. you stop. look down at it.

when he doesn’t let up, you turn your gaze up to sukuna. his lips are parted around words he can’t seem to spit out. it’s unlike him, but so is getting drunk as fuck at a bar. alone, and on a weekday.

you guess you don’t know him as well as you used to.

when he seems to have nothing to say, you slip your hand free of his grip. turn on your heels again and make your way back through the crowd to the exit.

you don’t need to look back to know he’s following. you hear the bar door close for a second time while you focus on clearing the sidewalk as quickly as possible to get back to your car that you’ve parked around the corner.

you’re clicking in your seatbelt when the passenger door opens. he’s never been in this car. his scent quickly fills the small space, mixed with the liquor on his breath, and it makes you feel woozy.

“i’ll take you to your girlfriend’s house,” you mumble as you pull away from the curb.

he’s facing the window, forehead pressed against the glass, so you almost don’t hear him when he says, “she’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

you glance at your ex. quickly flick your eyes back to the road.

“what the f—?” you frown. “what do you mean?”

you see his head shift to face you in your peripheral. his voice is clearer when he speaks again.

“that was a complete sentence. i won’t repeat myself, woman.”

you contemplate pulling over and kicking his ungrateful ass out of your car. instead, you run your tongue along your top row of teeth.

“where the fuck am i supposed to take you then, kuna?” you huff. “your apartment is across town. it’s almost midnight.”

the asshole simply hums. you know he’s shrugged his shoulders without even looking. and then he leans his head back against the window.

you continue driving in silence, weighing up your options. you could call your best friend, except, you weren’t exactly sure you were best friends anymore. you hadn’t spoken since brunch that day, neither of you reaching out to the other. she hadn’t even told you about her breakup.

although, you aren’t all that surprised. since she was dating your ex. your ex who you’d hooked up with on her kitchen counter while they were together.

you shake your head as if to rid yourself of the memory. you wondered if that’s why they had broken up—it would make sense, and you definitely deserved her silence.

the radio hums while you weigh up your options: drive two hours across town and back to bring this fuckhead home, or bring him to your home.

you suck in a long, long breath, before flicking on your left indicator.

it’s fifteen minutes later that you thump kuna in the chest. he opens his eyes way too easily for someone that was just dead asleep. you always found that creepy.

“get out the car,” you order, before pushing your own door open and slamming it shut behind you.

once again, you don’t turn around, or hang back to help. you enter your apartment building and barely hold the door open behind you. walk up the flight of stairs to your apartment. it’s when you stop hearing his footsteps that you peek over your shoulder.

he’s slumped down on the second to top step, head in his hands again, body tilting to the side. and tilting.

you have to lunge forward to catch him before he topples over and takes a bumpy trip back down the stairs. you curse under your breath, sling his thick arm around his shoulder and put every leg day ever to the test as you attempt to lift your ex boyfriend off the ground.

his body is heavier than your deadlift pr, and you barely make it to your front door. when you push the key and twist, you both topple inside.

“fucking asshole,” you hiss, untangling your limbs from his and push yourself to your feet.

you lock the front door, and entirely plan on leaving him passed out in the hallway.

you’re unsure why you decide to drag his ass to the couch, but you do. take one last look at him, sprawled out and breathing steadily, before you retire to your bedroom.

the smell of breakfast foods wakes your brain before your body has fully caught up. you stumble out of bed wearing the t-shirt and panties you’d thrown on last night after your shower, feet shuffling out of the door towards the smell.

when you see the hulking frame bent over your kitchen counter, your first thought is that you’re being burgled, and that the burglar is helping himself to your groceries. but after you blink the sleepy haze out of your eyes, you realise the reality is worse.

you kinda would’ve preferred the burglar.

“what are you doing in my kitchen—” you take in his attire, or lack there of. “…naked?”

sukuna tuts, but doesn’t look up, pink hair falling over his forehead while he taps cinnamon sugar over a stack of french toast. your favourite. except, he’s wearing nothing but tight black boxer shorts.

“you threw out all of the clothes you kept for me in the guest room,” he says casually, back muscles flexing as he slices strawberries. “i had nothing to wear after my shower.”

you cross your arms over you chest. “y’know, it’s rude to make yourself comfortable in someone’s house without asking.

sukuna glances up with low, crimson eyes. “don’t be ridiculous,” he murmurs. “you’re far from just ‘somebody’ to me.”

you hum, noncommittal, and walk over to your breakfast bar. you lean against it and wonder how the hell you ended up like this. sukuna navigating your kitchen hardly dressed and with heart wrenching familiarity, just like old times.

you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing when he glances up at you again.

he slides a plate across bar in front of you. you hold his eyes for a moment before dropping them down, and picking up your cutlery. the toast is good, obviously. he knows how you like it. he knows almost everything about you.

it’s something you’re terribly aware of, the same way you’re aware of every movement he makes in your space. the way he moves around while he washes the dishes. he dries off his hands. picks up a coffee mug and leans against the counter.

you pause, fork halfway to your mouth. you’re about to ask him where his plate is, but remember he doesn’t do breakfast this early.

you lick cinnamon sugar of your lower lip before you speak. “why were you drinking alone?”

kuna studies your face, his own expressionless. somehow, he manages to read between the very fine lines of your indirect question. why did your relationship with my best friend end?

“she wasn’t comfortable with my alleged ‘closeness’ to my ex,” he deadpans.

you scoff. he only has one ex.

“i’d hardly call us close,” you mumble, cutting your food into bites to avoid his harsh gaze.

“no?” he asks, placing his mug down. “what would you call it, y/n?”

you roll your eyes, entirely over the conversation. you take a bite of toast to give yourself an out.

sukuna doesn’t let you get off so easily.

“she thinks we still have feelings for each other,” he continues. your heart drops ever so slightly. “do you think that’s true?”

you shake your head. “let’s not do this, ryo.”

“we don’t have to do this, pet,” he says, hand trailing the counter as he walks around it. your heart begins to race in your chest. “tell me you feel nothing for me and i’ll walk out of that door right now.”

you drop your cutlery, and it clatters noisily onto the counter. the fork slips off onto the ground. you try to open your mouth to the say the words, but when the heat of his body warms you from behind, you can’t seem to find them.

you feel him brush your hair away from your shoulder, watch his shadow in front of you completely swallow your own.

“cat got your tongue, princess?” he murmurs, voice too close to your ear. your eyes flutter shut.

“ryo, please,” you whisper, hands white-knuckling the marble, trying to ignore the unwanted growing heat between your legs.

he wraps your hair around his fist once. “please what?”

please don’t? please do? ‘please’, as a complete sentence?

when he tugs on your hair, pulling your head back in the process, your eyes squeeze tighter. you can’t look into his crimson ones—you’ll fold entirely if you do.

“will you bother trying to claim that you feel nothing for me, when your body still reacts like this?” he asks quietly, breath against your cheek.

you arch back instinctively, and know it to be a mistake when you feel the full length of his body pressed against yours. his hand moves to your hip, gripping the flesh, and you sigh out a laboured breath.

you push backwards despite yourself, pitiful, nearing desperate. sukuna’s erection pressing against your ass seems to rid you of any sense you may have.

“look at you,” he hums, hand tightening its grip on your hair, the other sliding to hold your pelvis too close to the place where you’re throbbing between the legs. “always such a slut for me, aren’t ya?”

a whimper climbs your throat, and you sink your teeth into your lower lip to stop it from escaping. he leans down, blanketing your body with his own. his lips brush the shell of your ear when he says,

“you want my cock, huh.” his hand moves to palm your pussy, and you grip his forearm instinctively. “need me to take care of you, pet?”

“yes,” you breathe, so quickly it might be considered pathetic.

sukuna hums low in his throat and the sound vibrates through you. he presses against your clit through your panties and this time, you don’t manage to hold back your whimper.

“ryo, please,” you say again, breaths coming to you in pants. “please fuck me.”

“there she is,” he praises, hand dropping your hair, letting it cascade over your shoulders. “never too shy to beg for cock, were you?”

you feel him tug your panties down over your ass until they pool around your feet. hear the rustle of fabric as he does the same with his shorts.

“legs together,” he mumbles, pushing at your thigh, and you oblige so that you’re standing with your thighs entirely pressed together.

he brings his hand in front of your face, fingers to your mouth. “spit,” he orders. you dribble salvia from your mouth to his fingers, and he makes a sound of approval in his throat.

sukuna glides the wet tip of his cock over your ass, other hand still cupping your cunt, and you drop your head. you wonder that if not for the counter in front of you, you’d still be standing.

he teases the head into your opening and your fingernails press crescents into his thick forearm. when he pauses you think you might die.

“has anyone touched this pussy since me, y/n?” he asks low in your ear.

you shake your head. “no one.”

“you let anyone fuck you since me?”

“none of your b—ughh… your business,” you huff, impatient, irritated, so fucking turned on.

“i don’t think you have,” he answers his own question. “not with how much your pussy is resisting being filled right now.”

you push your hips back and another inch of his cock sinks into you, stretching you so good. the position has you feeling every vein, every ridge of his length slide against your walls and you clench around the little he’s given you, desperate for—

“more,” you moan. “fuck me, ryo. oh my god shut up and fuck me.”

you think he’ll argue.

instead, he slams his hips forward, stretching your cunt in one brutal thrust.

you moan noisly, grip slipping on the counter and pushing your breakfast plate off the other side—it crashes to the floor, and neither of you so much as flinch.

“jesus christ,” sukuna grunts as he moves his hand to grip your breast, giving you time to adjust. “it seems you’ve lost your manners since we’ve been apart, princess.”

he pulls out to the tip and grinds into you again. you turn your head, look up to find his face right there. watch the way his eyes trace every inch of your wrecked expression.

“harder,” you breathe against his lips.

he grips your throat when he kisses you, tasting like a mixture of his coffee and your cinnamon sweet lips. he kisses you slow, tongue leisurely exploring your mouth, tip nudging your sensitive spot every time his cock slides in and out of your cunt.

“tell me how much you missed this cock, brat,” sukuna grunts, breath jolting with every slap of your ass against his pelvis. “tell me you missed me.”

“fuck, i missed it, kuna,” you whine. “god, ryo, i missed your cock so much. i missed you.”

“of course you did.” his fingers press into the sides of your throat.

you don’t process the loss of his other hand until it comes swinging down hard against the right side of your ass. you whimper at the sting, and he leans down to kiss your parted lips.

“silly girl,” he mumbles against your mouth. “why would you keep us apart, huh?”

your eyes roll shut, a shiver tracing down your spine as sukuna hits that spot that ruins you over and over. the sound of his ragged breaths at your ear, the heel of his palm pressing against your pussy.

it’s too fucking much.

“bouta cum all over my cock, aren’t you pet?” he bites at your lobe. swirls his fingers over your sensitive clit. “c’mon. cum for me darling.”

a heavy, melted warmth pools low in your stomach as the first shocks of your orgasm take over. you squeeze your eyes shut while it spreads outwards, to the tips of your toes and your fingers.

kuna doesn’t stop driving into you, doesn’t stop stroking your pussy as you gasp in desperate, pathetic, shattered breaths—he only holds you up when your legs begin to give, whispers filthy praise into your ear as you hear him begin to grunt and pant into yours.

you know he’s coming too when he grips your ass hard, suddenly going quiet. his hips begin to jerk clumsily moments before he starts to spill into your still spasming cunt. you think your heart might give out when your orgasm seems to peak again, and you choke out a sob as warm liquid gushes down your legs and puddles at your feet.

sukuna drops his head to your shoulder, chest heaving against your back. he doesn’t let go of you. just presses a kiss to the side of your throat.

“why would you leave me, y/n?” he says quietly into your skin.

it shatters your heart entirely.

you don’t even have an answer, besides the fact that you loved him so much it scared you. that you couldn’t imagine your life without him, so you had to prove yourself wrong by living without him.

because in hindsight, that reasoning was the most stupid thing you’ve ever come up with.

original content by © yut2achoya. do not copy, feed into ai, or repost on any other platform!

a/n: something about this doomed pairing just pulls out the best of my literary abilities like don’t you think this series is my best characterisation to date?? chat i know the people did not fw part one but you can’t tell me this isn’t peak asf

𝜗ৎ my special angels: