ETHOGRAM ENTRY V — Year 3: The Cove and the Wonders beyond the Veil

By the seventh day you stop pretending the island is temporary.

The first few mornings you wake with the stubborn certainty that there will be a boat, a helicopter, a radio call you can intercept if you climb high enough on the rock.

Your body keeps trying to return to the old rhythms — check instruments, inventory supplies, write down times, measure what you can control.

You do all of it anyway because the habit is stitched into you, but there’s nothing to calibrate here except your own hunger and the weather.

"Consider this a courtesy," he says. "A demonstration. So you understand the difference, since you want to be people so badly."

— Tainted to The Marrow by @belimah

what you know - ch24: gravity

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. minor injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic attacks. self-loathing. mentions of difficulty eating. legal drama (likely with inaccuracies). medical content. minor descriptions of wounds. mentions of arachnids. withdrawal. pet names. oral (f! receiving). p in v. nipple play. fingering. neck kissing. marking. body worship. size difference. praise. aftercare.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6'11".

❦ words ; 29.1k.

❦ a/n ; was listening to free by mother mother while writing much of this, thought some of you may enjoy listening to it as well :)

main masterlist || series masterlist || ⏮ prev || next ⏭ - coming soon

The realization that withdrawal is a cruel beast would sneak up on Sukuna sooner than he could have hoped.

As the sun creeps over the horizon, slipping through the blinds and coloring the wall in golden stripes, the brute groans at the staunch ache in his head. His limbs are heavy, ridden with an itch that spreads across every inch of his skin. There’s really no better word to describe the feeling than simply uncomfortable.

He rolls back, dropping his arms down to the mattress when he’s surprised to find something preventing his arm from touching the mattress. Squinting harshly at the early sun invading his vision, he twists to find you still curled up beneath the covers, facing away from him.

For a moment, that’s all the world is. Your soft breaths, a glimpse at your bare skin as his shirt rides up over your waist, your hair mussed with sleep.

You look beautiful.

doodle before sleep (i must be stopped it's 4am). also new brush, gonna be experimenting maybe

Oh my god

Sukuna would never admit it aloud.  

He’d rip the tongue from anyone foolish enough to even suggest  they’d witnessed him like this, vulnerable, unguarded, soft.  

And yet… nothing in all the centuries compared to the simple comfort of sleeping with his head pillowed on your warm chest.

It started by accident.  

One night he’d returned to the bed utterly spent, battle-worn, irritation crackling just beneath his skin, on the verge of detonation. He’d intended to drag your smaller body against him the way he usually did, tucking your warm frame beneath the cage of his arms where it belonged.  

But you, already drifting in that hazy borderland of sleep, reached for him first.  

Your arms slid around his broad shoulders, tugging with a surprising insistence until his chest met yours. He froze, every muscle locked,  as the steady thump of your heart pressed directly against his ear. The sound was… obscene in its gentleness. Foreign. Disarming.  

Then your legs hooked around his waist like you meant to anchor him there forever, soft thighs clamping with the stubbornness of a barnacle refusing to be pried loose.  

He told himself he would wait.  

Just until your grip slackened. Just until he could extricate himself without waking you. He was the King, patience was beneath him, yet for once he exercised it, lying rigid, calculating escape routes.  

Except you never let go.  

Your arms stayed looped around him, fingers loosely curled against the back of his neck. Your heartbeat never faltered, a quiet metronome that slowly began to sync with the heavy thud of his own.  

When morning came, he was still there.  

Head nestled against the soft swell of your breast, legs tangled with yours, strangely calm within the warmth of your hold. He had never slept so deeply. Never woken so… relaxed. The usual storm inside his skull had quieted to a low, almost peaceful hum.  

He hated how much he craved it after that, hated how the absence of your heartbeat left an hole he couldn’t fill.  

So he began to hunt for excuses.  

A longer day of slaughter than usual. A faint irritation he claimed needed soothing. The simple need to ‘check’ that you were still breathing, a lie so thin it was laughable. Each time, he allowed himself to sink lower, to press his face into the curve where neck met shoulder first, then gradually, lower still, until his cheek found the plush give of your chest. 

He’d inhale slowly, letting the scent of your skin and the faint trace of whatever soap you’d used that day flood his senses like a chemical cosh.

Just like tonight.

He was exhausted in a way that went beyond the physical, the kind of bone-deep drain that even a King could feel after too many hours wearing the mantle of violence.  

He stripped off his clothes with mechanical efficiency, leaving them in a careless heap on the floor. The bed dipped beneath his weight as he crawled in, movements quieter than one might expect from a being of his size and power.

And like your body had learned to recognise him even in sleep, like there were some invisible thread tugging at the right moments, your arms lifted.  

The sheets peeled back just enough. An invitation.

He slipped beneath the cool fabric without hesitation.  

The mattress sighed as he settled his much larger frame against yours. His head found its rightful place almost instantly, temple to sternum, cheek pressed to the gentle rise and fall of your breast. The heartbeat was there immediately, steady and warm, a sound he would deny to his dying breath that he’d come to rely on more than air itself.

One of your arms curled around his shoulder, hand splaying across the wide plane of his back, fingers resting lightly over the ridges of old scars and black markings alike. You sighed in your sleep, a small, contented sound, and pulled him that fraction closer.

Sukuna exhaled, long and slow.  

The tension that had coiled in him for hours unraveled like silk from a spool. His eyes drifted shut. One tattooed hand came up to rest against your side, thumb brushing the curve of your ribs in a touch so light he could claim it were accidental.

He would never say it, he would never need to.

The way he melted into you, the way his breathing eventually matched yours, the way he let himself be held…  that said everything.

Satosugu x Reader

CW: threesome (MMF), probably unrealistic sex positions, Satoru and Suguru do fruity things, double penetration, praising, squirting, oral (fem receiving), bit of sub! Satoru, etc.

a/n: this is my first smut ever so forgive if its a little messy.

__________________________________________

You never thought you’d find yourself between two men in bed, especially never thought they’d be your hot roommates. Were you mad about it though? Not in the slightest.

They were always teasing you, but you thought it was because of their ginormous egos rather than them being attracted to you. Always holding onto your waist when squeezing by you in your tiny kitchen, walking around in just a towel after a shower, etc.

Your walking eye candy was driving you nuts; you even had to get a new vibrator the other week because your last one died from overuse. Something Satoru almost saw because of how nosey he is, especially considering you came home with a Spencer’s bag.

“It’s none of your business, Satoru!” You scolded him, holding the bag to your body, trying to keep it away from him. You finally ran to your room and hid your new vibe in the Hello Kitty shoebox in your closet.

You were now being held up by Satoru, completely bare in front of your roommates. His arms wrapped around the bottom of your thighs, your knees up by your ears as your legs dangled up in the air. Satoru's chest firmly pressed up against your back, his leaking cock, poking you whenever one of you shifted even slightly.

Suguru stood before you, his purple eyes filled with hunger. It was intimidating, especially considering his gaze was right at your cunt. His fingers lightly graze your folds as he spreads you open, your slick sticking together from your lips, slowly dripping down.

Suguru collected some of your slick onto his fingers and brought them up to his face. "Just look at how wet she is, Satoru," Suguru brings his fingers to Satoru's face, but before Satoru could suck your juices off his fingers, Suguru pulled his hand back to his own face, sticking his fingers in his mouth. Groaning around his own fingers at your taste.

"Hey!" Satoru whined, pouting his lips into a frown. "C'mon, I wanted a taste~."

"Should've been quicker," Suguru says plainly.

Satoru scoffs, pressing his lips to your ear. "He's so mean, isn't he, pretty?"

"Don't answer him, sweet girl, just focus on me," Suguru purrs, taking your chin in between his fingers, lifting your gaze onto his eyes. He moves his hand from your chin, eyes still focused directly on you, dragging his fingers down where you needed him most. You gasp out once he pinches your swollen clit.

"Sugu~" You whine out, trying to desperately buck your hips towards him, but with how Satoru was holding you, you just had to stay there and take the torment. "Please,"

"What is it, baby? What do you need?" Suguru whispers softly, leaning closer to you. His fingers continue to toy with your clit, which only slightly eases the ache in between your thighs. He closely watches your little moans and reactions.

"Your mouth, please?" You ask shyly.

Suguru and Satoru both chuckle. "She asked so sweetly, Suguru, come on~."

"Hmm," Suguru hums, pretending to be in thought, before he sinks down to his knees.

Slowly, dragging his tongue through your folds from your entrance to your clit. You can't help but moan out at the feeling of his mouth finally on you, your hips twitching in need. Satoru peeks his head over your shoulder to watch, groaning in need, watching Suguru devour your pussy. His cock is twitching from underneath you, begging for your sweet cunt.

Suguru takes note of Satoru's throbbing need and grabs him, guiding his cock into your warmth. Satoru moans out in surprise. Well, it was more like a whimper than a moan, but you were too blissed out to tease him for it. Satoru digs his face into the crook of your neck and thrusts himself through your velvet walls.

Tears pooled in your eyes at the different types of pleasure you were getting from them. Reaching behind you, you grab and pull on Satoru's white locks, making him groan into your neck. "Toru~."

"Oh fuck—I know, pretty, hah—" Satoru mummers, trying to contain his composure and not cum prematurely. But he's wanted this for so long, and now he was right where he wanted to be, and didn't want it to end.

Suguru's flicking on your slit increases, obscene slurps from his mouth, and Satoru's cock snuggly fucking up into your pussy filled up the room.

"Sugu, I—I can't...hngh!" You were getting close, both of them could tell, squeezing Satoru's cock, wanting every drop of cum he could offer. Your pussy getting wetter and louder, the knot in your stomach tightening, and tightening.

"C'mon, princess, let go for me," Suguru grins into your cunt. You cried as the overwhelming pleasure took over, as your arousal sprayed all over Suguru's face and onto Satoru's cock. "Good girl~."

Satoru stilled his movements, watching as Suguru lapped up your mess, occasionally hitting the base of Satoru's cock, which was still stretching out your cunt. He whines out, feeling his best friend lick at his cock. Suguru chuckles as he stands up and kisses you with all teeth and tongue, tasting yourself on him, until he abruptly rips himself away from you, causing you to whine out. Until he grabbed the back of Satoru's head and brought him into a heated kiss, sharing his spit flavored with your juices with Satoru. Satoru whines and needily laps up in Suguru's mouth trying to get every drop of your taste off of him.

They pull away a string of what seems to be a mix of spit and your arousal, connecting their lips. All of you are out of breath, sweat coating your skin.

Suguru pants out, fisting his cock and giving it a couple of strokes before he presses his tip against your already filled hole. "Think you have room for one more, sweet girl?"

You nod weakly. He grins and presses himself in on top of Satoru's cock, both of them pressing tightly against each other as your pussy desperately tries to make room for Suguru. You whine out as tears finally slip down your cheeks.

"Good girl, taking us both so well," Satoru praises you.

"Think you can squirt over both our cocks this time?"

You and Gojo had broken up back in high school, not like you two were that serious. He was hurting after Geto left, a relationship wasn’t the best time for him to put energy into a relationship. Gojo cares for you and wants what’s best for you, which he thought this was.

You didn’t want to break up, but you could see what he was going through. Plus you’d still be there for him, just not in a romantical way.

Gojo hadn’t seen you for over a year, maybe he’d hear about your missions and how you were from others. But not really talking to you.

Shoko had gathered some others from around campus to hang out at a bar after work.

Gojo went of course. When he walked in, Shoko went up to him instantly, with you there with her.

“Gojo! Look who I found!” Shoko exclaimed dragging you over with her.

You giggled. “Sho, it hasn’t been that long!” You told her.

“Yes it has! Look! Gojo is shocked to see you too.” He was. His eyes widen looking at you. Like, really, looking at you.

You looked good. He always thought so but, he really hadn’t seen you dressed up like you were in a while. You were in a pretty little dress, showing him your pretty legs and a peak at your soft thighs. He could tell it was an older dress since it just almost fit you, your curves sticking to the fabric.

He remembered those curves, your soft bare skin under his hands. How sensitive you were when he got lower. That pretty cunt he could drown himself in and he would die a happy man.

“It’s so nice to see you, Satoru. I’ve missed you.” You tell him cutting him out of his trance with that sweet smile forming on your pretty lips.

“Y-yeah—“ he stammered before clearing his throat. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Your smile widens as you begin to catch up with him. Telling him about your recent promotion to 1st grade sorcerer and taking on harder missions. He tells you about his. He can tell you were worried about him by your expressions you made during particular difficult moments in his stories. Your eyes going wide and slightly glassy as your eyebrows furrowed together.

You were so stupid cute.

He couldn’t take it. He wanted to make you look like that at him in bed. Make your glassy eyes turn to tears while he stretched out your sweet cunt. He just kept staring at you, putting his hand over his mouth.

Shoko looked at him with a knowing look before shouting off to someone from across the bar, ditching you and Gojo. Sneaky.

“You look good, Satoru, you doing okay?” You ask him genuinely.

“Yeah, yeah, much better.” He confirms.

“You sure?” You step closer to him. His face heating up even more than it already was. “You look all flushed.”

“Mhm, mhm, mhm,” he repeats as he nods his head. You were about to leave it alone until he finally gets his nerve to say something to you. “You look really pretty…” he mutters.

Your cheeks flush as you look at him with those wide eyes. Shyly, you look down at the drink you were holding. Muttering a shy thank you back.

You two were both so shy around each other, no one would’ve guessed it was the two of you who locked yourselves in the bathroom fucking like bunnies.

Satoru had you bent over the sink in front of the mirror. His cock pounding in and out of your dripping cunt. Your dress bunched up around your waist with your panties pushed to the side. His pants unbuckled, revealing only his cock, unable to wait to get undressed to fuck you. He’s holding your face up from just underneath your neck, making you look at your reflection.

“See how pretty you are?” He asked breathlessly. “Hah— that’s what I was thinking about when I saw you.”

“Toru,” you whine out, a squealing moan following it.

“I’ve missed—hgnn—this so much, this pussy, your cute little sounds—ha!” He continues in between breathy moans.

“Missed y’too, Toru, so much—hmmm!” you tell him, gripping him even tighter than you were before making him groan out.

“M’not going anywhere, sweets, I’m riiiiight hereee.” He teases bringing his over hand just below your belly button and pressing down. You cry out, trying to hold back a bit from making too much noise. He smirks as he ruts his cock into you even faster, rubbing his hand where it was resting on your tummy.

He then starts to hear you sniffle, his thrusts faltering as he looks at you. Tears streaming down your cheeks. Thinking something is wrong he pulls out immediately and turns you to face him.

“You okay, sweet girl?” He asks holding you to him, smoothing your hair down and cradling your face. “Did I hurt you? We can stop and go back out, get you some water—“

“No, no, go back, please.” You beg lifting your hips to him. Moving your panties to the side revealing your wet pussy to him. “It just felt so good, and I’ve missed you, Toru, don’t leave please,”

He feels his cock twitch wildly at that. He could’ve came on the stop from that. You all sweetly begging for him to continue fucking you while you cried from how good it was? He’s surprised he didn’t cum, though it was close.

He smirked as he closed the distance between you two, dragging the tip of his cock between your folds.

“Aww, baby, you’re so sweet, love seeing you beg for me,” he whispered guiding his cock back home in your cunt.

Your mouth forms into an O shape as he slowly moves his cock through your walls. Even more tears spilling from your eyes, just making his cock even harder.

“Yeahhh, cry for me sweet girl,” he grips your hips tightly moving you on his cock like a sex toy.

“Im never letting you go again,”

୨୧ — The moment Sukuna stripped, your mouth went dry.

You'd seen him naked countless times- in the shower, in bed, in the dim light of early mornings when he'd press himself against your back and grind lazily until you were awake enough to reciprocate. But every single time, the sight of him hit you like a punch to the chest.

And God, his cock.

It curved upward from a nest of dark hair, flushed an angry red that deepened to near purple at the swollen head. Thick veins traced along the shaft like rivers on a map, pulsing visibly with each beat of his heart. The tip glistened, a bead of precum pearling at the slit before sliding down in a slow, obscene trail.

Pretty, you thought deliriously. How is a cock this pretty?

Because it was. Intimidatingly large, yes -long enough that your fingers couldn't quite meet when you wrapped your hand around him, thick enough to make your jaw ache and your cunt clench in anticipation- but there was something almost elegant about it. The way it stood proud and heavy, bobbing slightly as he stalked toward the bed. The perfect symmetry of it, the way the foreskin had pulled back to reveal that glistening, dusky head.

Sukuna caught you staring and smirked, all sharp teeth and sharper ego.

"See something you like?"

"You know I do," you breathed, unable to look away. Your thighs pressed together, slick already gathering between them, "You're so fucking pretty, 'Kuna."

Something flickered in his eyes- surprise, maybe, quickly swallowed by hunger. His hand dropped to his shaft, wrapping around the base and stroking once, twice, spreading the precum down his length until it gleamed wetly in the morning light filtering through the curtains.

"Yeah?" His voice had dropped an octave, rough velvet against your ears, "You think my cock is pretty, sweetheart?"

"Yes." You were already reaching for him, fingers trembling with want, "Let me- can I-"

He stepped closer, close enough that you could smell him- musk and cedar and something darker, headier. The head of his cock brushed against your lips, painting them with salt bitter slick, and your tongue darted out instinctively to taste.

Sukuna groaned, fingers threading through your hair.

"Fuck. Go on, then. Show me how pretty you think it is."

୨୧ — Sukuna let go of your jaw and wrapped that massive hand around your throat instead.

Your pussy clenched- gummy walls squeezing his cock so tight he saw stars.

“Oh fuck-“ He groaned, hips stuttering, “Dirty girl. Cunt got so tight soon as I grabbed your throat. You like being choked while you're stuffed full of cock?”

You couldn't answer. His fingers were pressing just right, making your head swim, making everything feel floaty and far away while his dick kept bullying into your syrupy mess of a cunt. Sloppy. Ruined.

“Course you do.” He fucked into you harder, watching your eyes start to roll, “My perfect little cockslut. Takes everything I give her. Lets me use this pussy however I want.”

Your gummy walls fluttered around him, squeezing rhythmically, and he knew you were close. Could feel it in the way your thighs trembled. Could see it in the way your eyes kept rolling back, showing whites, tears streaming into your hair.

There she goes, he thought, drunk on the sight. Completely fucked dumb. Drooling and crying on my cock like the pretty little thing she is.

“Gonna cum, aren't you?” He squeezed your throat tighter, watched your mouth fall open, “Gonna cream all over this dick while I choke you? Make an even bigger mess?”

“Mmph- nnh- hhk-“

Your eyes rolled back completely. Your cunt clamped down like a vice, gushing around him, making the nastiest wet sounds as he fucked you through it.

Then he loosened his grip.

You gasped, sucking in air desperately, whole body shaking through the aftershocks. He cupped your face almost gentle, thumb smearing the tears across your cheek, even as his hips kept their brutal pace- still fucking into your sensitive, twitching hole without mercy.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl.” His voice dropped, deadly soft, “C'mon. Look at me.”

Your glazed eyes found his. Wet. Fucked out. Adoring.

he’s sitting on the mat with his back to the mirror, head tipped back, sweat clinging to the edge of his jaw. your name’s still pinned to the top of his messages—nail appointment at 2, be done by 4, don’t forget my pinky charm this time. you made him triple check the screenshot before you left, told him he wasn’t allowed to call until your set was finished, said “just go to the gym or something so you don’t get antsy.” and he did. you were right. he gets restless when he’s waiting on you.

he’s scrolling through his camera roll now—half resting, half looking for a decent picture of the two of you to throw on his story for your birthday. something cute. something low-effort but still sweet enough to pass. he knows you don’t care about public posts the way most girls do, but he also knows you’ll pout if he forgets. says it’s not about the post. says it’s about him thinking about you. about remembering.

he scrolls past everything. mirror selfies. old screenshots. a blurry pic of you chewing on a straw, looking at him like you’re about to say something mean. he smirks. pauses on it. maybe.

and then his thumb freezes. it’s not a picture.

it’s a video. fifteen minutes long.

recorded months ago, timestamped just past 3 a.m., saved somewhere between a blurry street photo and a dark bar clip of you trying to shotgun a drink in heels. he frowns. he doesn’t remember this one. presses it out of instinct. he’s wearing headphones. doesn’t think twice about it.

the screen stays black at first. camera must’ve been face-down or wedged into something. just sound. just breath. and then—your voice.

“wait—wait, wait, put it back, i liked that—”

his cock twitches immediately. his head lifts.

he doesn’t remember filming this. doesn’t remember you filming this. the audio is unfiltered, loud, the kind of raw intimacy you don’t get when you’re trying to be cute. and it hits him fast—he remembers the night now. not the tape, but the way you climbed into his lap in the kitchen. the tequila. the way you whispered “i feel so good, it’s annoying,” into his mouth. how he pulled your panties off somewhere in the living room and neither of you made it to the bedroom right away.

the camera shifts at some point. lands on skin. motion. the curve of your back, the way your hips roll forward, the bounce of your thighs as you ride him without rhythm, drunk and sloppy and so fucking needy. and his voice—god, he hates hearing it back, all low and desperate, full of slurred praise and broken groans. “you hear how wet you are? shit, baby, you’re so loud—”

he swipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. stares down at the screen like he isn’t sitting in public. like his cock isn’t already pressing heavy against the inside of his shorts.

you moan his name in the video and he twitches hard, jaw clenching. you sound high. wrecked. like you’ve already cum once and can’t stop now. you’re slurring something—he has to turn the volume up, leans forward, presses the speaker harder into his ear.

“feel so full, baby, i love your cock, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop—”

he curses under his breath. shifts his thighs. someone drops a dumbbell a few feet away and he doesn’t even blink. the camera’s crooked now but it’s enough. it’s enough to see your hand reaching back to grab at his thigh, the way you bounce faster, messier, losing yourself in it.

you were the one who set the phone up. it hits him now. you were the one who pressed record. you’d whispered “just for me,” while grinding against his lap, legs shaking, mascara already smeared. and he let you. he always lets you. lets you do whatever you want when you get like that.

in the video, he flips you over at some point. presses you flat to the couch and fucks you so deep it knocks the breath out of you. your face isn’t even visible. just your hips. the wet sound of him slamming into you. your voice, cracked and breathless, crying “please, please—feels too good, i can’t—” and he knows you came again. he remembers now. you shook like you couldn’t stop. he’d pulled out and came all over your ass and whispered “you’re so fucking perfect” like he was in love with you or something. he is, obviously.

he’s hard now. throbbing. the band of his shorts tight against his stomach. headphones still on. sweat drying sticky across his chest while his phone glows bright in his palm and your voice plays over and over in his ear, moaning, gasping, begging.

it’s your birthday. you’re getting your nails done.

he should be picking out a cute photo to post. should be writing some stupid caption with a heart and your name and a throwback to that rooftop picture you like so much.

instead he’s staring at a video of you drunk and riding his cock, eyes rolled back, whispering how good it feels while his cum runs down the inside of your thighs.

he locks the screen. leans his head back against the mirror. and thinks about how fucking fast he’s going to make you watch it with him when you get home.

Sukuna redraw

ETHOGRAM ENTRY IV — Year 3: Terminal Sampling and Summer Storms

The envelope isn’t an envelope — just a thick manila packet sealed with a strip of red tape and stamped twice with the institute’s emblem like someone wanted to make sure you understood it belonged to them before you even touched it.

It arrives with the supply drop, slid across the outer threshold by a man who won’t meet your eyes. He’s a rotating contractor, new enough that he still carries the discomfort openly, hands moving fast as if the house might bite him for lingering. He makes a joke about the weather, about the storms rolling in so early this summer, and you nod in the right places because you’ve learned how to be normal while your stomach coils.

When the door seals again, the air changes.

you run into ex bf!sukuna at a bar "coincidentally" mdni.

you were better than this.

the palms of your hands greedily clutch his side, crumpling his shirt in your hands, while his mouth devours your own. it was messy, gross, with his tongue swirling around yours, mixing saliva and unsaid words.  

sukuna muffles the whine that threatens to leave your lips by forcing your jaw to go slack, his thumbs roughly gripping your jaw.

panting, your eyes glance up to his scarlet irises, the black voids of his pupils dilated just enough to see your own depraved reflection. the edge of his lips twitch, his free hand gripping the flesh of your thigh- squeezing just enough to remind you to stay quiet.

the two of you were in a public bathroom. in a damn bar. 

you thought you were better than this. 

sukuna- the bane of your existence (and he knows it) tilts your head to the side, his plush lips brushing against your earlobe, sending searing heat straight to your core. the muscles of your thighs clench, and he snickers softly. 

“i thought you couldn’t stand the sight of me.”

he uses your own words against you- ones you spat back when the two of you were still together, before you two fought over his dangerous activities. your ex had a bad habit of hanging around the wrong crowd, and you were not about to date a man in prison.

the final straw was seeing him come home to your apartment, knuckles ripped and painted with another man’s blood.

“shut up.” you hiss at him once again. 

he’s close- and yet still not close enough- not touching you where you need him the most. 

this fucker knew what he was doing to you.

slithering your arms behind him, you tug him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. the graffiti-sprayed walls of the bar bathroom were not nearly enough room to house the two of you- not that you minded. you haven’t felt this alive in months.

you didn’t want to break no-contact. his number was blocked on your phone, but maybe you remembered that he went to this bar with his buddies a lot. maybe you drove over here, hoping to see him, to taste him again. to feel his hands do what yours couldn’t

a pitiful, paper-thin whisper barely reaches his ears. “kiss me again-”

sukuna’s mouth traces your cheek, and his lips hover over your own. “tell me you missed me.” 

it wasn’t a request. it was an order. your tongue darts out, licking your drying lips, the words getting caught in your throat- not daring to expose you. 

“please-” 

you opt to beg instead, finding it less humiliating than admitting you made a mistake all those months ago. 

his eyes narrow, the warning in them clear as day. sukuna’s shoe kicks your feet apart, slotting his leg between your legs, and presses his kneecap riiight against your cunt. 

your eyebrows furrow, nails digging into his back, and at last- you give him what he wants. 

“god- i missed you, ‘kuna-” his knee grinds against your core at the nickname, and you nearly sob from the relief, eyes fluttering in pure bliss. with your thighs clenching around his leg, you rut your hips instantly- chasing what you’ve been deprived of. 

you’re already so close, embarrassingly aroused, but the weight of his stare makes your heart jump, and your mouth recalls what to do faster than your brain does.

“can i- please?”

he smiles. his classic shit-eating grin.

“go on then.” sukuna jerks his chin in a nod, eagerly awaiting your release, even if he was too stubborn to admit that in fact, he had missed you as well. 

immensely. 

-

a/n: im cold and need him to warm me up

taglist: @666kuna

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ cw. suggestive stuff, fluff, crack

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ an. sex stuff is mentioned but this isnt meant to be horny so dont take it srs. regular chapters will continue from the next part

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