#BC I ALMOST THOUGHT I SHOULD PUT NOTHING

[causenessus]

been thinking about the suna smau all day. I have five different notes going for it + an entire brainvomit document. i've also gone through like 10 different versions of this text <3

[ganondoodle]

been sitting at my desk for 3 hours just trying to decide if it would be better to draw or to write on the totk rant document, not doing either

[vynegar]

"Albie" (main story 11-21)

At the end of Episode 11 (Part 1), we find out that "Albie" is simply a name that Vyn made up on the spot when Rosa asked. He may have been inspired by his own birth name, Vilhelm Richard Albert de Haspran.

In Chinese, Vyn choose the name "阿明". "阿" is a prefix used to form nicknames, "明" can be a name but also means "bright, clear". In Vyn's Romantic Rail Getaway card "Food for Thought", he tells us the meaning of his name:

You can see the character 明 appear in the word 明亮 ("bright"), although 明 is such a common character that I wouldn't say that this Chinese text alone is enough is sufficient evidence to show the connection between the two names. It's the way that the "Albie" and "阿明" happen to coincide in the name "Albert", which made me take note of Vyn's "careless" choice in name.

If the Chinese name was intended to subtly reference "Albert", I can certainly imagine imagine this as one way to preserve that reference through translation, even if it becomes more obvious. We do have an example of the translation preserving plot-relevant wordplay in a name: Lowe Leare ("Lowly"), originally 萧仁 ("小人", both pronounced "xiao ren" but with different tones). However, there's also an incident of a plot-relevant name being missed through translation, though it was in an event (not the main story) that probably foreshadowed a distant plot point and had infamously bad translation issues.

Anyway, it remains possible that "Albie" is a coincidence. However, after Vyn and Rosa wrap up their conversation about Albie's name, the narration makes a comment on the importance of that moment:

It isn't until the whole case is settled that you are surprised to realize something... You had briefly touched on the key to cracking the case at this very moment.

...which at least gives me enough confidence to not feel silly writing up a whole post about it. We've only seen part of this case, and there's a lot of mystery still surrounding Vyn's behavior so I don't have any definitive hypotheses on why Vyn might have chosen his own name for Albie. Is there something that made Vyn seen himself in Albie? Did the delinquent's attitude remind Vyn of the cruel, stratified world that he was born in? Is he reminded of how people who have imperfections will be tossed aside and abandoned? I guess we'll see when part 2 of this episode is released.

[figofswords]

anybody remember the stephanie brown essay I was working on under a research grant fully last summer? yeah it’s not done yet it super needs to be done and I’ve been avoiding working on it for weeks. someone tell me to just do it already

[t-lostinworlds]

i do wonder if ppl still meet their partners in person/face to face or is everything just off the "apps" nowadays

[monstermp3]

☀️

[chemicalarospec]

.

[mono-dot-jpeg]

big sister - hyun ju

summary; a big sister will always protect, but when will she be able to relax?

genre/extra tags; one shot, found family, fluff, hurt/comfort?, canon typical violence, i dont like the second season writing, but i can not deny myself this diva, that's mother !!, teen! reader, hyun ju is the only reason i decided to watch this season, slight canon divergence bc i have the mind of a goldfish, canon typical sad heavy conversations, big sister is written to be seen as the korean honorific "unnie", older sister moments written in the point of view of a younger sibling, unintentional love letter for my appreciation to my sister, reader is implied to be some form of lgbt but not out (im projecting)

[platonic] [gender-neutral reader]

[warning; mentions of transphobic ideas]

a/n; before people ask, no, im not doing requests for this show. i just don't feel fully comfortable writing for squid game. i just really wanted to write this because, believe it or not, i write for my enjoyment. even i do switch off here every few months or every other month.

dinner had rolled around after an intense "game" of life or death. how you managed to survive this long is beyond you. but you might have a strong idea of why you're living so long, and it was the strong woman who was sitting beside you with some of the other women who were surviving so far.

the old lady had pointed out that hyun ju was not like other people. and it really was odd to her. but hyun ju was used to that. more than used to it. she lived through it since she decided to come out.

you listen to the conversation, not really putting your two cents in as it seemed like there was no right time to butt in. but as the conversation continued, the mood was just a little lighter. and that was more than enough morale. the old lady seemed to slowly understand hyun ju and her struggle.

you've zoned out so much, you almost fail to notice hyun ju sneaking an egg onto your shabby given lunch box meal. you look up at her as she gives you a warm look before pretending that she didn't just do that.

you mix the rice with not much thought, spilling some bits of rice and egg over its metal container before you slowly eat. unbeknownst to you, hyun ju glances back at you as if to make sure you're actually eating and not staring off with a tired look that no teen or child should have. you've seen everything, you're part of this sick game, she may not know your story, but she knows you don't deserve any of the bad you've been through.

you're the youngest in the entire room, a room filled with people with insurmountable debt and issues. hyun ju can only imagine your worry, your anxiety, the burden.

when the first game got serious, you were trying your damned hardest to keep your fear contained under the watchful eye of that robot scanning every movement. she was right in front of you, keeping you safe along with the rest of the people who lined up with her. you look like you wanted to cry the moment you got to the finish line. if she wasn't full of adrenaline at the time, she probably would've heard how hard your heart was beating.

somehow, she had taken two people under her care. you and young-mi. how could she not care about a young woman like young-mi and a teen like yourself? two anxious people forced to live a life full of debt and pain when you both deserved nothing but comfort and love.

people start lining up in their beds for nighttime. gi-hun was very insistent on being careful at night. it was dangerous. some people were not behind just killing others at night to sweeten the pot of money that loomed over everyone's head like a golden sun.

as most of the adults started to climb in their beds, you stand awkwardly. you weren't a stranger to sleeping a room full of people, but you were definitely a little paranoid after what gi-hun was talking about.

you find yourself naturally gravitating to hyun ju. her presence was just so calming, and she was so caring for others. it was hard not to get attached. young-mi had taken to calling her big sister. and you found yourself doing the same when you call out to her softly.

"big sister?" you gently tap at her arm as she turns to look at you. she silently urges you to continue speaking with a gentle look. you can see the tired in her eyes, but she looks at you, unwilling to say no. "this is embarrassing..." you mutter.

"it's okay. i'm here." she reassures you.

"can i stay with you tonight? i'm-" you choke a little bit on your words, not only out of embarrassment but fear. "i'm really scared. i don't wanna be alone." you confess.

she softens, "i would love to let you, but it's too risky. if people come for us, it would be very hard to fight back. i'm so sorry, kid." she opens her arm out for a hug, and you take the comfort you can get in this shitty place. "i will do my best to keep you safe, alright? when we get out of here, i'm going to find you again, and we can help each other, yeah? i'll protect you."

you nodded with her words, not finding the heart to say anything. she takes this as a sign to start guiding you into your bunk bed on top. at least the top bunks would be somewhat safer for you. you hesitantly climb into bed. "if a fight breaks out, hide. run. just be safe. i will find you, and you'll be safe." she continues to reassure you the best she can.

"okay. goodnight big sister." you whispered. "please be safe."

"i will." she said with a calm confidence that only she could pull off that didn't make you feel worried for her.

you hope that you get out of here, so you don't have to see the worried exhaustion in her eyes anymore.

she was a big sister by heart and soul. you just hoped her big heart wouldn't lead her to her doom. she protects and gives, but when will she relax?

[rinhaler]

DEATH IS NO MORE !

you know you shouldn't be here, right? what would possess you to visit an underground fight club? one of the fighters is kinda cute though...

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ underground fighter!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: ty penny for beta reading again! picturing sukuna like this art by @innaillus bc i have had nothing else on my mind for days. Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, violence, blood ♡, daddy!kink, size difference ♡, age gap, degradation, fingering, orgasm denial, pussy spanks, dacryphilia, finger sucking, vaginal sex, choking ♡, creampie, squirting ♡, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby). Words: 10k

As your heels snap against the pavement, you can almost feel the pulsing bass from the music surge from your toes and throughout your entire nervous system. The music is loud enough to hear, even from a distance, and it only gets louder as you step closer and closer to the abandoned warehouse.

You shouldn’t be here.

The voice is yours, internally. Though it feels like an out of body experienced as you venture head first towards a destination you have no business being anywhere near. The music muddies your thoughts. It’s confusing you, deeply.

Is there a dress code?

That doesn’t matter, because you shouldn’t be here.

The bass is hypnotic. That pounding bass that makes you feel weak and ethereal all in one dizzying bout. It’s like you’re going to a rave, though you’re not even close to being dressed the part. You’ve been at work all day. The last thing you should be doing is trespassing into a building that has been off limits for five years.

You just couldn’t resist, this.

Not with the rumours flying around and the hushed whispers of secrecy luring you in to investigate for yourself.

With the double doors in sight, you finally see that the entrance is being manned. Is it security or just a ticket holder? You aren’t sure you want to find out. They might take one look at you and shoo you away. There’s no way you can leave until you get what you came for.

You slip out of sight as you see another pair of men get out of a car parked near the entrance and approach. Your breathing is egregious, though you try to calm it. The adrenaline swirling through your every vein and muscle is enough to make you pass out. But the agonising desire to enter and see the truth for yourself is holding you steady.

$100 for a ticket.

“Christ.” you whisper to yourself.

You put your hand in your pocket and fish out your purse. As you open it and begin to look, you halt. The way your hands are trembling is abnormal, even for being this worked up. The pumping of your heart transfers to your brain. The pink, mushy organ pounds dramatically against the inside of your skull, and really, you think melodic beat of the music inside must be slithering its way into the creases of your braincells.

There’s a pain behind your eyes. You feel a migraine coming on and you’re all too familiar with the agonising feeling as you often leave your work days suffering from them.

You deepen your breaths in a bid to steel yourself. And eventually, you find the money to pay the fee. So you wait, patiently, for the other two men to enter the warehouse before you reveal yourself from the shadows. There’s an air of confidence to you as you approach the entrance.

Though it fades, slightly, as the man holds his hand up like a crossing guard.

“Women don’t come around here,” he starts, checking a clipboard that looks too small in his comically large hands. He flips through the pages and then looks at you again. “You’re not on the list.”

“I have the fucking money.” you tell him, slapping it on top of his stupid clipboard hard enough for him to almost drop it. He tries to stop you as you attempt to barge by him, though it isn’t a strict action.

More like a warning.

“It’s not a sight a lady should see, I think.” he tells you, still putting your hard earned money into a tin of other generous donations, you expect. His eyes focus on your own as he continues to speak. “You’re rich. Expensive clothes… shouldn’t have worn those here. Gets messy. Be careful.” he tells you. And with that, you enter the warehouse and heed his warning.

You walk slowly, but with purpose. A chill stabs down your spine as you approach a flight of stairs a group of men are running down. They wolf whistle upon seeing you and it curdles in your stomach. You try to keep your head held high as you climb and follow the sound of that intoxicating bass. Wherever the music is coming from is surely the source of the action, too.

The time of day is indicative of the lighting. It’s pitch black outside and it it’s even darker, still, in the warehouse. Though the moonlight manages to break in through the shattered windows enough to illuminate your path.

There’s a smell that you’re beginning to notice that invades your senses. A potent stench that is so specifically masculine and territorial. It’s sweat. Blood, too.

Once you get to the top of the stairs, there are double doors with a red light bleeding through the cracks. The music is louder, too, as well as the vociferous shouting being contained solely by the big, heavy duty doors.

And now, truly, you worry things have gone too far. The doors part and you slink into the shadows, still approaching without hesitation. You’re scared. God, terrified, really. But the adrenaline keeps you from retreating. There’s one goal you have in mind, and once complete, you can return back to your peaceful, suburban life.

A man holds the door as he waits for a friend to leave with him. You watch them walk away together, bragging about their earnings before you slip inside inconspicuously.

The red light contrasts from the rest of the building. And you think your retinas might explode from the change, you don’t let it divert your attention, though. But it’s hard to deny how distracted you are.

As the atmosphere has changed you begin to feel heady from the scent of sweat and testosterone. You do your best to continue undetected as you try to keep to the edges of the crowd. But a few eyes find you. Nudging and laughing when they see a woman, God forbid, enter their sacred male space. You notice there’s no malice mostly. It’s more leering and ogling despite doing all you can to not give them any attention or feed into their sex drive.

But you scream.

Scream could even be an understatement as you feel a tight squeeze on your upper arm flesh yank you away from the crowd and into the background of the room. Your adrenaline seems to die the instant one red eye matching the ambient lighting filling the room like a brothel in a red light district stare into yours.

Half of his face is covered by some sort of black mask.

Protecting his battle wounds, you assume.

There are a few laughs and stares before they’re pulled back to the main attraction. There’s a feeling of embarrassment rushing through you, but you can barely dwell on it as you look up at the man who had dragged you away so carelessly.

He’s easily the tallest man you’ve ever met. At least 6’5 and towering above you like you’re a puny child as you try and stand confidently beneath him. But the little gasp you emit when he bends down to whisper in your ear gives you away, instantly. He smirks, knowing just how scared you are. He knows just how worried you are and how out of your depth you are.

“And just what is a fragile little thing like you doing in my club?” he asks, a tantalising lilt in his words that would have your knees folding like outdoor furniture if you didn’t have one reason and one reason alone for being here. He pulls away from your ear, an intimidating glare staring back at you as he waits for an answer. “You don’t look like you can fight. Not that I’d allow it, anyway.” he tells you.

“I’m looking for someone.” you blurt out, unsure if you should have said that or kept it to yourself. It’s too late, now, and you see a sadistic smile transform his ravenous expression into one of sheer entertainment.

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’ve got a boyfriend you’re worried about fighting here.” he laughs, and it doesn’t go unnoticed how his eyes move from your face to your breasts. They’re covered, entirely. The decision to wear a turtleneck for work has come back to bite you as the sweltering heat feels enough to knock you unconscious.

It’s suffocating.

He isn’t really looking at your tits, however. His eyes instead seem to hone in on the silver necklace you’re wearing. And you can see how his eyes squint as he tries to think of anyone fighting here who’s initial begins with M before letting his dirty mind race at the thought of the letter slipping between your cleavage had you opted to wear something a little more revealing.

“You look like a cop, sweetheart. Not a good place for you to be all by yourself.” he informs you. A cop? You hadn’t even thought about how you’d stand out in that way. “I don’t need the fuzz poking around here, what do you want?” he asks, his voice a little more pointed and venomous as he raises your necklace with a single finger to toy with it.

If you weren’t so frozen in fear, you would have backed away and hid your necklace down your sweater. But you were scared, statuesque. The only movement you were able to perform was moving your lips.

A pretty trait for you to possess, he thinks.

“My brother is here, I think.” you tell him, calmly, hoping your honesty will earn you some favour in his eyes. His eyebrow quirks as he thinks about you possessing a family resemblance to anyone here. “He’s underage.”

He smiles at that. The pieces suddenly all fall into place as he knows exactly who you’re talking about. And he parts space between you both, grabbing the collar of your white, wool coat and pulling you along with him. The two of you get through the crowd with ease until you’re standing at the front.

A shriek leaves you as the losing opponent hurtles towards you, though your self-appointed escort gets in his way before your clothes can become ruined by the blood that has now smeared on your saviour’s skin. You’re sure he’s thankful that he wore a black vest so that you can’t really see the stains on it. Realistically, he probably doesn’t care, you think.

He wouldn’t be running a fight club if he cared about something as tedious as stains.

As he moves out of the way to reveal the victor, your own blood begins to simmer and spill from you. Megumi raises his arms triumphantly, spitting a glob of blood onto the ground next to the wounded man he’s evidently just beaten to a bloody, unconscious puddle. And you could tear his head off with your bare teeth with the rage that you feel.

But you can’t.

Not when the man who led you here steps into the makeshift ring of people surrounding them and hands him his earnings. And your brother smiles, gratefully, as he accepts and counts it.

“There’s someone here to see you, kid.” he tells him, tilting his head in your direction. Your foot taps against the dirty warehouse floor as you wait for him to notice you. And boy does he notice you. “Oh, are you that scared of her?” he laughs, noticing all of the colour draining from Megumi’s face as he processes the fact that you’re here. That you’re really here.

“The fuck are you doing here?!” he asks, running up to you and attempting to conceal the money as best he can. But it’s too late, you snatch it from his hand and look at him with contempt.

“Me? What are you doing here?! You’re seventeen! You’re not Tyler fucking Durden, Megumi.” you slap him upside the head and drag him away from the crowd. “I’m furious, I don’t even know where to start with you.” you tell him as you approach the heavy doors that are keeping this disgusting little community trapped in the sweaty, blood soaked room.

“Get off.” he shakes himself loose. “I left my stuff in Sukuna’s office.” he announces, leaving before you give him permission. You huff, following him up the steel stairs as you continue your onslaught of verbal abuse and anger at his sheer stupidity.

He should see a doctor, really. But you worry he’ll get in trouble if the police get involved. And he might end off worse, still, if he rats out this place and gets everyone else in trouble. It’s too much, you know you’ll have to cover for him.

You could cry, now. But you aren’t sure if it’s anger or genuine upset. And honestly, you don’t want him to see you cry over this. Weakness is not something you need him to see right now, you want to keep it together. You’re his guardian and you can’t be soft with him just because he’s your brother.

He picks up his gym bag from a locker in the room. Your eyes are laser focused on him, all of the trust you felt towards him is long gone. And now, you aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to take your eyes off him again.

“Megumi… how did you even get involved with this?” you ask him, earning nothing more than an infuriated grunt as if you have no right asking. How dare you care about him and his wellbeing when you’re all each other have? You want to scream, to fucking scream at him for being such an idiot. “I thought you were getting bullied at school. I asked you if—”

“Drop it. Can we just go?” he asks.

“Tsk.” you kiss your teeth. Your gaze suddenly stolen as the man you can only presume is Sukuna walks into the office like he owns the place. He does. You close the distance between yourself and Megumi as his sadistic boss sits on a comfy looking chair behind an old battered desk. “Give me your phone. Go wait in the car. Do not go anywhere.” you warn him as you hand him the car keys.

He sighs, placing his phone in your hand before turning to leave. You don’t look at him, though, too focused on Sukuna to even pay him any mind.

Your blood continues to boil, bubbling under the surface of your skin as you look at Sukuna. A smarmy smirk plastered on his face as he kicks his feet up onto the desk. So, Megumi leaves. He knows better than to push you when you’re this pissed.

“Before you start, princess,” Sukuna stands back up and circles around the desk. Your eyes vibrate with fury as you watch him, backing up as he gets too close. “I didn’t force him to do this.”

“Don’t call me princess.” you tell him, shutting down the cutesy pet name in an instant the minute you get an opening to speak. You rest you hand on your hip as you point at him furiously. It’s rude, you know it’s rude, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not after seeing your little brother like that. “He’s just a kid. I don’t want him involved in this stuff, I’m trying to be a good role model and you’re fucking everything up. He’s not coming back, ban him.”

“Fuck no.” he chortles. “He might be a kid but he’s good. I pay well. ‘n I like him, I do. He’s a moody little brat but he makes me laugh and earns me a shit ton. I’m not banning him for you. Or anyone.”

“Maybe I should call the police, see what they have to say about all of this.” you threaten, immediately regretting it, when the smile drops from his face and is replaced with something akin to bemusement. He hadn’t expected you to threaten him. But the incredulous stare is soon replaced by another smile.

“You wouldn’t risk getting Megumi in trouble… nice try though.” he speaks, leaning back against his desk and crossing one ankle over the other as he folds his arms. He’s thinking. Genuinely thinking of a way to compromise. “What do you do?”

“I’m… a doctor.” you tell him. Earning a set of raised eyebrows and an amused scoff as he looks you over once more. He supposes it explains the fancy clothes and snooty attitude.

But—

“You’re too young to be a doctor, aren’t you?” he wonders.

“I’m a primary care physician.” you tell him. He nods in understanding, but you’re confused now. You shake away his questions and his interest in you before staring at him again with intent. “This needs to stop. I’m not going to call the police but I’m not letting my brother come back here, it’s too dangerous. He’s a child.”

“He’s a man, you’re babying him. He made three grand tonight, he’s earning money and staying out of trouble because he has an outlet for his anger.” Sukuna tells you. The amount of money he’s made surprises you, and you’re holding it in your coat pocket right now. He’s going to be down $100 after you take it out of his earnings, though. But still. Even you can’t deny that it’s impressive. “Stuck up princess. Snooty doctor. Think you can come in my fuckin’ club and tell me what to do? Fuck that.” Sukuna claims.

He doesn’t say anything else as he waits for you to speak. But, truthfully, you’re still thinking about Megumi. The fact that he needs an outlet for his anger is worrisome. You’ve tried to get him to see a therapist, but he isn’t interested in the least.

It’s been hard being a single parent to him when you’re too selfish and irresponsible to even look after yourself, let alone a teenage boy. He probably thinks you’re useless. You have no control over him, really. All you do is make sure he’s fed and has a place to sleep and get his school work done.

But after discovering this, you’re sure he hasn’t even been bothering to attend school.

“Oi.” Sukuna speaks, stealing your stare again as you’re finally brought out of your troubled gaze. “You’re a sheltered little princess, aren’t you? A place like this is just full of scum to you.”

“I don’t care about this.” you laugh, minimally, not really seeing the funny side but you have nothing else to offer by way of expression. He hesitates a little, seeing the defeated look in your eye. “The injuries and psychological damage these places can cause…”

“Not everyone’s got a fancy college education like you, girl.” he tells you, patronisingly, as if you don’t know that. But he doesn’t let you interrupt. “Some people need a quick buck to get out of trouble. Other’s like the thrill. But who the fuck are you to come into my club and tell us all we’re wrong? Comin’ in here in your doctor clothes… looking down your nose at us.”

“That’s not—”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what you’re doin’, sweetheart.” he continues. “You get to sit behind a desk all day and tell people what pills to take to feel better and then go home to your cosy house in the suburbs without a care in the world.”

“Don’t fucking patronise me.” you warn him, though you don’t have the muscle or means to back it up. He reminds you a lot of how your dad used to be. You didn’t particularly take shit from him, and you certainly won’t be taking it from Sukuna if you can help it. “If you’re letting a seventeen year old walk away with three grand, I’m sure you’re making a lot more money than I am behind my desk. I work hard. You’re lining your pockets from other people’s pain.”

“Only a little,” he smirks at that, knowing you’re right but not entirely. “I fight. I bleed.”

And you scoff. It’s so fucking archaic and you can’t help but pace around with your hands on your hips as you try and decide where to even start with that. What can you say, really? Congratulations? No, definitely not. You stop in your tracks as you realise how close he is to you, now, deciding he wanted to close the gap between the two of you while your mind was elsewhere.

You breathe a little heavier as you fall backwards onto the couch behind you while he towers above you. His eyes rake over your body as he drinks you in. The slight fear lingering below the surface, shrouded by a cloud of false confidence as you do all you can to not succumb to his intimidation.

His arms almost cage you in.

Almost.

He’d let you free yourself if you tried to escape.

But you aren’t trying.

You’re just staring into his eye.

And he likes that.

“Watch me.” he orders. The sentence is soft but with a hard, seductive edge. It’s an offer despite it sounding like a command. You aren’t sure what he’s asking you to watch but your heart rate is imploring you to decline, whatever it may be. He tilts his head, it’s barely noticeable, and somehow you do notice. You notice the way his eye flits from your eyes to your lips. Not once, multiple times. He has no shame, he doesn’t care that you know he’s looking. He doesn’t act on it, anyway. “Watch me fight.”

“Pardon?” you ask, instantly. Bewildered that he would even dare to dream that you’d do something so idiotic. Your brother is waiting, patiently, for you to take him home. Unless he’s stolen your car, of course. But you’d like to think he knows he’s in enough trouble than to do something so stupid.

“You’ve never seen a fight. Watch the best at work, you might change your opinion. Watch me.” he repeats.

He watches as your eyes glaze over with a watery sheen, smirking. There is a breeze left in the wake of him quickly freeing your body from his caging arms and heading towards the entrance to his office. Your breathing is intense and your hands begin to shake. You think to text Megumi and check he’s okay, before remembering that you have his phone.

You look over your shoulder to see Sukuna leaning over the railing. He’s yelling about something but your ears are ringing in your confusion. The music isn’t helping, either. You look down at your phone to check the time, not even really taking it in before you place both Megumi’s and your own in each of your pockets.

Sukuna returns, entering with a cool swagger before leaning on the edge of his desk again.

“You’ve got ten minutes to decide.” he tells you.

Decide?

You’ve already decided. There’s no way you’re sticking around to watch him beat someone within an inch of their life. Or vice versa if his opponent proves to be too much. But with his physique and confidence, you doubt he’ll lose. And almost as if he’s read your mind, he smirks.

“I’m going to win.” he informs you, a cocksure grin saturating his lips as he drinks in your reaction to his words. You cross a leg over the other and fold your arms, still determined to remain and appear defiant as you listen to him. He can sense you’re weakening resolve, though. “I always win, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” you remind him, and he tuts in response. You can’t tell him what to do. You can try, but he won’t listen. And he hears the wavering in your words. Your desire to appear cold and callous towards him crumbling the longer you spend time in such close proximity to him.

“I think you like it.” he tells you, smiling. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m thinking.” you tell him in turn, scowling as you decide whether or not to leave right now or actually think this through. If you leave, you know your pride won’t allow you to change your mind.

“Don’t have all night for you’re thinkin’, doll.” he speaks. “Oh… I know, how about we make a little wager?”

“No.”

“Awe, c’mon, live a little.” he laughs, menially. He smirks as he hears you gasp whilst lifting you up like you’re nothing. He sits you down on his desk and for some reason you find yourself tightly wrapping your legs around his waist. Your chest heaves, panicked from the process. You aren’t sure how that happened and you can’t seem to shake any of it away. Not when your fingernails are digging into his biceps and your lips are ghosting each other’s. What is he doing? “How about if I lose, I’ll tell Megumi he can’t come around here anymore.”

“You said you’ll win.”

He smirks, at that. Scarred hands nip and grab at your entirely covered flesh. He wishes he could just rip the material off you right here, right now. But he wouldn’t feel right about sending you to your car in torn clothing, telling your little brother exactly what kept you busy for so long.

“That, I did…” he speaks as if recollecting an ancient memory. But he looks at you, eyes traversing your body again. “So what—”

“’m not betting with you. I know you’re gonna win.” you tell him, moving your head back slightly so your lips are no longing tracing each other. Instead, you’re looking at him intently. “You’re just trying to get me to agree to something that I won’t be able to back out of. ‘m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not stupid.” he agrees. He tucks some hair behind your ear and grabs your chin so that you can’t break your stare from his own. “I know we both want the same thing right now, though. That pride will do you no good, y’know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie, feigning ignorance as the heat between your legs begins to pool and seep into your panties. You hope he doesn’t notice. God you hope he doesn’t fucking feel it. You hope that your trousers will protect you, the fight should be starting soon. “I’m taking my brother home… but I hope you enjoy your little fight.”

“You’re not going anywhere or you would have left already.” he tells you, matter-of-fact. “The things I could say… I’m gonna say it all after I win.”

“I won’t be here. ‘n I’m not giving you my number.”

“You’ll be in the front fucking row watching me.” he sneers.

You inhale a sharp breath as he forcefully moves your head. A finger hooks into the collar of your turtleneck, lazily pulling it downward to reveal the bare skin of your neck. His lips are close, breath dancing over the expanse of your skin. It’s a battle to withhold the shudder that is creeping through your veins. It makes your eyes water, a tear threatens to spill but you refuse to let it. You weld your eyes shut as he continues to torment you, and they appear even more watery when you open them again. The way your body trembles is harder to mask, though it’s nearly imperceptible as you accept you need to release it. All you can do is hope that he hasn’t noticed.

But he does.

The intensity of your breathing increases as you think he might kiss your neck. Your eyes flutter shut in preparation, but all he does is tease. And when you feel a near empty chuckle fan across your neck, your eyes widen once more.

“It’s time, princess.” he tells you, pulling away completely. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, heading towards the exit to his office before turning back to face you. “Come.”

And like you’re a voice activated toy, you follow him. He quick steps down the stairs while you struggle in your heels. You cling to the railing as you descend, and he waits patiently for you at the bottom.

He’s agnate to a God in this warehouse. You see how people respect and admire him as he enters the room. People part for him so that he can walk through with ease with you in tow. You’re really going to watch an authentic fight.

You wonder how different it will be in comparison to movies. You’re scared, shaking, but part of you is telling you that you need to see it. You need to see the state that Megumi could one day end up in if you don’t scold him correctly.

“Should I go easy on him, sweetheart?” he asks, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “She’s going to decide your fate tonight, listen up.” Sukuna tells his opponent. You want to kill him yourself for drawing everyone’s attention to you. You struggle to find words, mouth drying every time it opens.

“Just… don’t kill him.” you shrug. “But don’t get yourself killed, either.”

He laughs, shrugging his shoulders too. Neither of them look scared, though you suppose that’s the point. Neither of them would be doing this if they didn’t think they could win. They wouldn’t be here if they were afraid of getting hurt.

“She wants me to go easy on you…” Sukuna smirks.

You watch, nervously, as they circle around the ring for a while. He looks at you, briefly, as you fiddle with your necklace as you try and occupy your mind.

A ragged breath leaves you as they both lunge at each other. The way Sukuna dodges and weaves away from each and every attempt that should be hitting him is almost like watching a beautiful ballet.

It’s art, here.

Between these walls and amongst this audience. It is a true art form that is celebrated and enjoyed. The casualties don’t matter, not even a little. Everyone is a willing participant, even you, now. You could have left but decided not to.

It’s for Megumi, you tell yourself.

You need to be better and act better for him. And you can’t possibly do that without the knowledge of how truly dangerous this can be.

But now, seeing it for yourself, you’re starting to understand.

Sukuna is strong. Heavy fists affix themselves to his opponents face again and again until he’s on the ground. Blood pours from the man’s nose and you think he might suffocate from lost teeth and gurgling blood pooling in his throat.

And Sukuna… he’s been starved of this.

You start to think that maybe he doesn’t fight as regularly as he claims. It seems too easy for him, now. No one can beat him, so what’s the point? But he has missed this feeling. The feeling of seeing blood gush from an adversary who whole-heartedly believed they could take him on.

He takes pleasure in it, violence. Particularly the brand inflicted by him. He profits from it regularly, but this is a rare treat nowadays. He’s happy to sit in his office and let idiots do what idiots do as long as his pockets and wallet fill with each event.

This fight… it was on a whim.

Was it just to impress you?

He straddles his opponent as he repeatedly smashes the same fist into his face again and again and again. And he’s laughing. It’s maniacal, borderline insane laughter as you see blood spatter and clots form and congeal against the poor man’s skin.

And why…

Why are you loving this?

You can practically feel hearts and glitter adorning your eyes as you watch on in horror, unable to turn away. You’re mesmerised by it. You should be ashamed, really, you’re meant to be a doctor.

If you were a good person, you’d be breaking this up. You’d be rushing to the man’s side and calling an ambulance to help him. Instead of watching on in astonishment, you should be doing all you can to keep him alive after such a vicious assault. But instead, you’ve sunken to the balls of your feet so that you can be on their level and watch each and every punch land with excruciating detail. You don’t want it to stop. You could watch this forever.

Watch him forever.

You’re sick.

This is sick.

“Sukuna!” you yell, standing upright again and looking down at him. He stops short of landing one final blow to his opponents bulging and split nose so that he can look up at you. There’s worry in your eyes, and it makes his brows furrow. His eyes squint as he examines you. He isn’t sure how to read you or what you might be thinking. But he realises worry isn’t the only thing lingering behind those glimmering, wide eyes.

Something else entirely resides there that he’s longed to see since the moment he set eyes on you.

“Sorry, I got carried away.” he speaks down to the near dead man beneath him. “Were you done or did you want to keep going?”

“D… Don—”

“Thaaaaat’s great.” he responds to the man’s choked attempt to end the fight. Sukuna jumps to his feet, barely a scratch on him, and walks by you without looking back. You hasten behind him, almost unable to keep up in your stupid shoes. You see a man hand him something before walking away. You scrunch your brows as you look between them both.

Oh, he’s been paid.

He reaches the top of the stairs to his office and holds the door open for you to pass through. You duck by him, hiding in the room like you shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t. You feel so small and inconsequential when you’re near him.

It’s his height, you realise.

It’s effortless intimidation. He’s a giant and you have to crane your neck just to look up at him when he’s close to you. His giant frame and bulging muscles don’t put you at ease, either. If you make him mad enough, you wonder how far he’d go. Would he use his strength to his advantage? Maybe he’d just take pity on you.

“You’re still here.” he rasps, locking the door behind himself and closing the blinds to the room. He likes the privacy as he counts his money. It excites you, for some reason, to see so much in a big fat wad. He looks up at you briefly before focusing back on it. “You liked it.”

“No.”

“Yeah ya did,” he laughs. You watch him as he collects a heavy looking bag from another locker in the room. It’s different to the one Megumi used. It looks shinier, newer. Sturdier. “I can tell you liked it.”

“Well, I’m going now.” you start, turning to walk away before he stretches out an arm to stop you in your tracks. He walks you backwards until your ass collides into the edge of his desk. He doesn’t pick you up, though. He just sizes you up, slowly, purposefully. And what a pathetic size you are in comparison to him. “Megumi needs me…” you whisper, meekly.

His presence is truly all consuming as he lords above you. You’re trapped between his large frame and the tattered old desk that resides in this seedy office. He could afford something nicer. But what would be the point if the place gets raided?

“We wanted the same thing earlier,” he starts. His voice quiet but commanding, still. You look between his lips and his pressuring gaze. He smiles, at that, he can see the way your mind is running rampant with thoughts of him. The dirty criminal who wants to fuck you on his desk. “Bet ya want it even more now.”

“N-No.”

“Yes.” he argues, placing a bloody hand on your pristine coat and making a mess of it. His hand snakes around to your waist, eventually. You gasp when you feel him tug your body closer to his by your belt loops, grinning as the little noise you make hits his ears. “Stutterin’ over yours words and making pretty sounds for me, sweetheart. Did you get all excited from seeing the blood? Bet ya did… bet you’re wet from seein’ daddy get violent.”

You gulp, heartily, your breathing gets heavier the more he speaks. His words rush straight to your cunt and you can barely ground yourself. The only thing keeping you from floating is your fingers curling around the edge of the desk as he continues to tease you.

“You’re fucking frigid.” he continues. Your eyes begin to water as he undoes the button on your pants and goes to pull down the zipper. You grab his hands to stop him, though it’s in vain. “Why are you so frigid, huh? When was the last time you had a good, hard, fuck?” he asks you, each word dripping like venom in a bid to make you squirm.

“That’s none of your—”

“Stop being such a bitch.” he tells you, slight laughter leaving him as he speaks. “Let me guess… got too occupied with your career, right? Bet you had a long term boyfriend who wouldn’t know how to fuck you properly if his life depended on it. ‘n then you got saddled with the kid… bought a vibrator and a plastic cock ‘n thought that would make do… you’ve never been fucked before.”

“Stop it.” you tell him. You turn your head away but he quickly forces it back with one heavy, dominating hand. “I have to go.”

“Sure.” he agrees, not letting go or moving aside for you to leave.

Nothing is said, not another word. Several beats of silence pass by as you stare at each other. The hypnotic music continues to play outside, though it’s muffled slightly by the locked office door. It isn’t enough to mask how hard either of you are breathing. Panting. Unable to break your stare from each other as the silence, that cogent fucking silence gets louder and louder.

Not another word is spoken as his lips press roughly against your own. You kick off your shoes and he kicks them aside as you continue to kiss him. Your hands are all over his body, grabbing and squeezing his skin as you lose yourself to the feeling of his lips. He forces down your trousers so that they’re resting around your thighs before lifting you onto the desk. You moan, desperately, as he breaks the kiss to fully remove them from your legs.

He lets them fall and kicks them away in the opposite direction of your shoes. The kiss breaks once more as he laughs lightly as your hips begin to rock eagerly for him.

“Knew you were wet for me earlier, y’know.” he tells you, kissing you briefly before deciding to tease you further. “Felt how your cunt was droolin’ when I lifted you on here before.”

“You’re vile.” you tell him, not caring that much as you lock your lips with his again. His attitude, the way he talks, the way he is. It’s all so nauseatingly macho and you thought you were better than this. You thought you knew better and wanted better for yourself. But having it presented so perfectly for you… you were always going to succumb.

“You like it, you like me.” he continues, forcing your snow-white coat down your arms and off your body. The way his knuckles continue to gush blood, you expect the liquid to seep and stain the white material and paint it the same red as his eyes. “Mmmm, I’m right. Why else would you be so wet?”

The air is snatched from your lungs as he pushes your legs apart from each other one at a time. You don’t dare close them as you watch him pull his vest over his head and reveal his perfectly chiselled body in all of its glory. It’s pervasive. It’s gorgeous. You aren’t even sure it’s humanly possible to look this good.

A soft ‘unf’ sound leaves you and you feel him sink his bloody knuckles inside of your panties. Deft fingers swirl and tease around your firm clit, and your mouth seals shut.

“Tell the truth, princess.” he swipes two fingers over your clit at a heightened pace, desperate to coax another utterance of admittance from your soft lips. “You wanna get fingered by a dirty old man. Go on, let me be your bit of rough, sweetheart.”

“Fuck.” you breathe, unable to withstand his filthy mouth. You’re truly powerless to being spoken to like this. Maybe you’re tired of people speaking to you so politely day in day out.

He doesn’t respect you, though.

Right now you’re nothing but a wet, desperate hole, with a pretty face attached.

“Let daddy finger you, yeah?” he asks, and you can’t stop your eyes from filling with water. He thinks it’s adorable. How the mighty hath fallen for nothing more than a few little rubs on your neglected clit. It makes him sick, truthfully, how many precious little things like you go without being touched properly. You’re about to learn, now, just how quickly you can become addicted to a person and the way they touch you.

“I should- I r-really have to go!” you tell him, still so desperate to remain defiant to the bitter end. He knows you’re bound to crumble any second. You’re biting your lip to keep quiet, but it will do you little good. Not when you are instinctively widening your legs for him. Wider than you knew they could go.

He pushes a single finger into you, hissing when he feels just how tight you really are. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume you were a virgin. He presses the heel of his palm against your clit, constantly adding pressure to the needy nub as he continuously pumps and curls his finger in and out of your sopping hole.

“Sukuna! I can’t d-do this, I shouldn’t be here.” you tell him as you wrestle with your guilt.

“This is exactly where you should be,” he tells you. “You’ll feel better when you cum f’me. Maybe you’ll stop being such a stuck up bitch.” he laughs, again, because you don’t dispute it.

No, instead, you lean back and rest your hands on the desk. Your hips roll urgently against his hand, chasing the stimulation to your clit. He looks down between you, tugging at your panties with one hand until you take the hint. You stop rutting against him, closing your legs so he can pull them down without stopping his rough touches.

They come down enough, the white lace dangling on one ankle as he forces your legs apart again. His vision meets your cunt. The way you’re swallowing one finger with ease now calls him to add another.

And you hiss from the stretch, but your humping doesn’t relent. You’re taking his fingers all of the way to the bloody knuckle until your eyes cross from the pleasure. And he grunts, at that, an attempt to conceal the moan lodged in his throat.

He revels in the way your cunt clenches as he allows a glob of spit to drip to your clit. His jaw hangs low as he massages the heel of his palm into it harder. The way you wriggle from his touch is better than any drug he can imagine existing. It’s addictive, seeing a once so proud woman regress to a needy little pet from the touch of a common man.

“D-Don’t stop.” you whisper, unsure of where that even came from. It was entirely involuntary. Your brain begins to fog as he repeatedly batters your g-spot again and again until your vision turns white. “Fuck, fuck! ‘m cumming, Sukuna! Ah- aaah~!” you cry out.

And just as it was getting good. Just as you were about to topple over the edge, he withdraws his fingers.

“You’re a real slut when you get going, aren’t you?” he smiles, landing a wet slap on your twitching pussy. You yelp, but don’t speak. “Barking orders at me like you’re in charge. Remember who’s office you’re in, now. It ain’t yours, princess. You’re spread open on daddy’s desk. Know your place.”

“I’m s-sorry.” you whimper, trying to focus and ignore the aching pulse you feel between your thighs. You need to cum, now. You need him to make you. It’s not fair, you can’t comprehend how close you were before he stopped you from reaching your high. “I’ll be good, d-daddy, just don’t… please don’t stop.” you beg, the title feels foreign on your tongue. But you don’t hate it.

He tuts, slapping your cunt again and again, repeatedly striking until tears spill from your pathetic, wet eyes.

“Fuckin’ love it when you look at me like that. Needy little whore.” he chortles, moving away from you entirely as he goes to grab something. “I’m gonna do something no one else will ever be able to do for you, jus’ because you look so pretty.”

“Wha—?”

“Lose the sweater, now. Wanna see your pretty tits,” he commands, lifting up the bag he grabbed from his locker earlier. “Hurry up. You need to be naked for this, you’ll enjoy it more.”

You do as you’re told, hurrying to strip yourself of the restricting material that has been suffocating you all night. And you toss it God knows where, breathing a sigh of relief as you feel cooler despite the sweaty heat that is trapped in the office with you.

“Good, good girl.” he smirks, unzipping the bag. You brace yourself for whatever he’s about to pull out. Some kind of sex toy, you assume. Knowing his ego, it’s probably a mould of his cock, hoping he can double stuff you.

But he doesn’t pull anything out.

Instead, he tips the bag upside down. There’s no time to think about what horrible things he could be pouring onto you. Because it doesn’t happen. Instead, you’re showered in bank notes. You laugh, excitedly, as you feel a never-ending stream over hundred-dollar bills pour over your body and onto the desk.

Sukuna laughs, too, admiring the sight of you dressed in nothing but money.

His money.

And it’s everywhere.

You writhe around on the desk before looking at him. He pulls down his sweats, hungrily, just enough to free his length. And, fuck, he’s huge. You knew he would be just by looking at the rest of him. It’s a scary sight, but you don’t care. He was right, no one else will ever be able to do this for you.

“Fuck me.” you request, opening your legs for him again. “Want daddy to fuck me stupid.” you finish.

And he doesn’t need to be asked twice. His fingers are shoved between your lips for you to suck as he lines his threatening cockhead up with your throbbing cunt. You’re too distracted by the taste of his fingers to properly react to how he stretches your hole.

The taste of copper stains your tastebuds along with the flavour of your essence. He watches you, intently, as he bullies his cock all of the way to the hilt without remorse. Though he hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath while examining you, panting desperately when he’s fully sunken into your restricting walls.

“Took that like a champ,” he praises you, withdrawing his fingers from your lips and opting to squeeze the sides of your neck instead. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, swallowing me like this.” he smirks, thrusting his hips shallowly to help you adjust. But the composure is lost when he feels how tight you’re wrapped around him. Like you’re claiming what yours as if he belongs inside, buried deep in your cunt to depths no one has been before.

He's yours.

“Fuuuu—” you start, cutting yourself off as you pout and groan through every pummel of his hips against yours. “Daddy! D-aaddy!” you wince, unable to believe how perfectly each vein adorning his cock stimulates you so beautifully. His leaking tip serves as a painful reminder to how irresponsible you’re being to fuck a literal stranger raw.

But you don’t care.

You honestly don’t care as you think about the desperate desire you feel burning between your thighs for him to fill you up like you’re his. To be claimed in such a disgustingly primal way by this behemoth of a man while you just lie there and take it is the only thing higher on your list of priorities than actually getting to cum yourself.

“No one will fuck you like this again, hear me? No one.” he reminds you. And all you can do is nod dumbly as you can’t even find it in you to formulate one word on your tongue to say in response. “Not a doctor, not a lawyer. No one will fuck you in the money they earn like this. And you look so pretty, princess. Knew you’d like it, can act high ‘n mighty all you like, but you like the blood money, don’tcha?”

“Y-Yes.” you barely managed to squeak out.

“Yes what?” he repeats.

“Y-es, daddy,” you pant, forcing yourself to fix your eyes on him as you speak in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. “I l-like the money.”

“Little money slut.” he chuckles, the angle he fucks in you seeming to hit deeper and deeper the longer it goes on. “I should fuck you up against the window, let everyone see how fucked out you are. Hah? Show everyone you’re not such a stuck up princess after all.”

“N-No, please, don’t.” you beg, gasping as he pulls his cock out of you and drags you away from the desk. He pushes your face against the window and you instinctively close your eyes. Your back arches as he slots himself into you from behind, powerless to his body as he starts fucking into you again. And you’re so thankful for the blinds, despite the fact the ridges dig into your skin as he ploughs you. “Fuuuuck, ‘Kuna, fuck, s’big!” you tell him, feeling him deeper still as he hits you from behind.

“I should let them all see what a whore you are.” he laughs, fingers gripping deeply into your sides as he uses you for leverage to pull you down on his length whilst battering into you. “Pretty mouth is droolin’ for me, look like you’re gonna break.”

Your heart begins to race as he reaches for the cord to open the blinds. There’s no doubt in your mind that it’s something he’d do. You brace yourself, preparing to be put on show for all of the lecherous men below to see.

But instead, he picks you up and forces you to bend over the table again. Your feet don’t even touch the ground as rams his cock into you again and again and again.

“Megumi wouldn’t be able to live it down if everyone knew how much of a slut his sister is,” he tells you. “He’d get the shit kicked out of him every time someone described what your face looks like when you cum.”

Fuck, Megumi.

You’d forgotten all about him, waiting in the freezing cold car for you while his pseudo-boss fucks your brains out.

“Don’t,” you huff, “tell him, about this.”

“Of course not, I’ll be your dirty little secret.” he laughs. “You are a vessel for my cum and nothing more.”

You’ve never felt such self-hatred for yourself as those final, scathing words have you cumming violently around his cock. You tremor and shake as you finish, collapsing entirely onto the desk as he continues to plough into you.

“Fuck, fuck!” you cry, feeling even more embarrassment wash over you as you think you might have pissed yourself. But he gasps, amazed, admiring the stream of clear liquid gushing from your cunt drenching him and his money on the floor.

“Awe, baby just squirted. What that your first time?” he laughs, fucking into you harder so that he can follow you along in your bliss. He bends over, his mouth lining up with your ear so he can whisper more of his rendition of sweet nothings into your ear. “You’re shaking ‘cause of me. A-And now, you’re gonna have to drive your little brother home with every drop of my cum in your cunt.”

“Please, please fill me up. Need it s’bad. Wanna be full of you…” you babble, reality still not fully resonating with you as he carries on fucking into you at a brutal pace.

He grunts and moans as he cums deep inside of you. You’ve made some mistakes in your life but this has to be one of the better ones. Despite your healthcare knowledge telling you that you should know better, you’ve never felt so content as you feel him shoot rope after rope of searing hot cum into your womb.

He pulls out, wiping his dick off on your ass cheek before fingering you slowly.

“Keep my mark inside of you.” he utters, forcing you to squeeze your thighs together so you don’t waste a drop while he gathers your clothes for you.

He hands you your underwear first while he keeps looking, and you pull them up quickly. It feels so revolting and lewd as his cum leaks into the seat of your panties. You sigh as you feel the cold letter M on your chest before you can dress yourself.

“I don’t have a first aid kit here.” Sukuna speaks, not looking at you as he hands you the rest of your belongings.

“I’m fine.” you tell him, quickly pulling on your sweater and instantly feeling sick as the warm material meets with your hot, clammy skin.

“I’m not.” he tells you, watching as you pull up your trousers and fasten them in a hurry before slipping into your high heels again. “Bet you have one at home. You’re a doctor, you’ve gotta look after people.”

You eye him up, cautiously, before your expression changes to a smile. “You’re asking to come home with me?” you wonder, pulling on your coat and making sure you still have two phones in your pockets as well as your purse and Megumi’s wad of cash. “But Megumi will—”

“I’ll drive behind you. C’mon, princess, don’t want my cuts do get infected, do ya?” he asks.

You cannot believe you allowed his dirty fingers inside of you. As good as they felt, it was so stupid. You’re sure there’s probably blood stains on your inner thighs because of him.

Though the thought of him all over you makes your cheeks fill with warmth.

You just nod, opting not to speak as you head towards the office door. You walk ahead of him, finding confidence in your strides again. He puts his vest back on and makes sure he’s decent before leaving the office. He watches you leave ahead of him and stops to talk to his favourite subordinate.

“Clean the mess up there. And I’ve counted the money so don’t get cute.” he says, handing the key to the office over before following your path out.

He’s a little surprised how far ahead you’d gotten. Long gone from the building as you approach your car.

The guilt of leaving Megumi alone for so long got to you, he thinks.

“Hi.” you say, simply, sitting behind the wheel of your car and hoping not to have to talk much for the ride home. He’s a moody teenager who rarely has a word to say to you. And for once, you’re hoping it’ll stay that way. You adjust yourself and quickly put on your seatbelt so that you can drive off without another word.

“What took you so long?” Megumi asks, huffing as he looks at you. His eyebrows knit as he sees his bossapproach with a confident swagger. He wonders if he forgot something or he didn’t pay him the right amount.

Sukuna leans into his open window with a shit eating grin on his face. He wants to question it, to question you. But his eyes meet your not so pristine white coat as he turns to look at you again. “Is that blood?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as he waits for an answer.

You look down at your jacket, holding your eyes closed with a sigh as you realise what a nightmare it’s going to be to remove the stains. Megumi leans in closer to you, moving your hair out of the way as he examines you.

“Um…” you mutter, too frozen to even continue starting up the car.

“It’s on your face and neck too. What did you—?” he stops, turning around to look at Sukuna and see if he can fill in the blanks in his mind with any form of answer. But they’re filled, instantly, as his eyes fall to see Sukuna’s bloody knuckles. “For fuck sake.” he speaks, quietly, covering his face with both hands as the revelation dawns on him.

“I’ll be right behind you, lead the way.” Sukuna winks as he walks away from your car and heads towards his own.

You don’t say anything, copying your brother’s action as you both sit in silence and absorb the never-ending supply of cringe filling the atmosphere. Until eventually you decide, this won’t do. Sukuna honks the horn of his Mercedes to signify that he’s ready.

So you start to drive, fleeing the scene while your partner in crime follows behind.

“Fucking good role model you are.” Megumi speaks sarcastically. “I can’t show my face there again. Why do you ruin everything?”

“Nothing happened!” you lie, earning a scoff from him.

“Let me get this straight. You came here to tell me to stop fighting, and then you fucked the man who pays me to do it. So, am I allowed to fight or not?”

“Obviously not, Megumi.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite.” he scathes, turning his head to face away from you while he sulks. “You can’t tell me what to do after this. Some fucking moral compass you got there.”

“Oh shut up.” you respond, trying to keep a cool head as you continue. “Nothing. Happened. I watched him fight and I hated it, we talked it out and here we are. Stop being so pissy.”

“Why’s he following us home, then?” he wonders, turning to face you and see if he can detect an honest answer or a lie from you.

“He doesn’t have a first aid kit.” you tell him, which is true though it isn’t really an answer. And you feel his green eyes burn into the side of your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “I’m a doctor, he needs his wounds tending to.”

“… Oh my God.” he starts. “Oh my God you actually fucking like him. You’re so embarrassing.” he huffs, pulling a cigarette out of his jeans. He closes the window to light it and opens it again just as quickly. You’ve never liked that he smokes, but you know nothing you say or do will stop him.

Just like the fighting.

And then, you find yourself laughing. Unable to stop yourself as you think about what a stereotypical angsty teen your little brother is. And, God, you’ve made yourself into his biggest enemy just because you care about him. But now… Christ, you’ve gone above and beyond.

“I lied. We fucked. And it was great.” you laugh harder when you see Megumi’s horrified expression the longer the conversation goes on.

“I can’t stand you.” he sighs. “He’s never gonna let me forget this. What is wrong with you?”

“Serves you right, you little shit. Lie to me again and see what happens.” you warn him, your laughter lets up a little as you try and focus on being serious.

You’re never going to be his mother, and you’d never want to be. But what you can be is his big sister. You can be an annoying pain and embarrass him whenever he acts up. But you’ll always be here to take care of him and keep him on the right track when needs be.

“I love you, shit head.” you smile, and he sighs.

“… love you too… bitch.”

© 2023 rinhaler

m.list | chapter two

[noosayog]

[Said Enough] Suna might have said too much but what's he supposed to do if you won't let him apologize?

wc: 1k

contents/warnings: angst(!!!) to fluff, quick drabble bc my Atsumu exes to lovers longfic isn't writing itself

“Oh,” you say. You stare at Suna and he watches you blink once before the last bit of light in your eyes dies out, irises glazing over. 

Shit, he thinks. He’s running after you because he realizes what’s about to happen next. 

All that comes out of your mouth is “okay. Um. I’ll just…” you don’t finish that sentence before running to the bathroom and locking the door shut. 

He runs after you, but you beat him to it. The door slammed in his face, Suna rests his forehead against the wood and lays a flat palm on the divider between you two. “Baby…” 

He doesn’t know what to say. He can hear your sobs and hiccups through the door, frustrated that he’s the cause but can’t get to you. 

Scared to death thinking about what giving you your space could mean for the two of you. 

“Baby, I’m sorry. Can you please open the door so we can talk?” but he knows it’s a lost cause. It’s been a lost cause since you beat him to the door. Turning around so that his back is against the door, he crumples down to the floor, head buried in his hands. 

He should’ve known the second he saw the shutter in your eyes. He should’ve- fuck - he should’ve grabbed onto you to stop you from closing that door and shutting yourself away. He completely deserves to be single after the hurtful things he said to you tonight, and he wants a chance to apologize. Preferably, to your face. But with a literal wall between you two, you now have all night to think about what he said. All night to realize you deserve better. All night to conclude that you should leave him. Nothing scares him more than the look you’ll give him in the morning when you realize how much he doesn’t deserve you. 

The rest of the night is spent periodically checking in on you and sending apologies through the walls. Your sobbing eventually quiets down into slow, measured deep breaths and but that brings little comfort. He can only hope you’re peacefully asleep and not awake to gather your thoughts and solidify your breakup speech for him. 

��

Suna’s jolted awake next morning when the wall he’s leaning against suddenly shifts. He’s falling backwards as the door slowly opens, revealing your swollen cheeks and red eyes. 

As if his nightmares have come true, there’s no uncertainty in your expression. It’s polite and shuttered. 

“Rintaro,” you rasp, voice gravelly. 

He’s already shaking his head. 

“I think we should-” 

He can’t let you finish that sentence. If this is the last chance he’s been waiting for, he needs to do something. So he puts both hands on your shoulders, gently, and looks straight into your eyes. It takes a surprising amount of courage to face that foreign look you’re fixing him with, and he realizes how lucky he has been to always be on the receiving end of your warm gaze and easy smiles. 

“Please,” he whispers, almost begging. “Give me a chance to say I’m sorry.” 

“I think you’ve said enough,” you respond, avoiding his eyes.

“Sometimes,” he starts. “Sometimes, I say too much and I’ll try harder to not do that. But more than that, I don’t say enough. I don’t tell you I love you enough and I don’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you do for me enough. I also don’t say I’m sorry enough but I want to stop doing things that I’d need to apologize for.” 

You’re still not looking at him, but your lips are wavering and your eyes are watering. 

“But I can’t change last night, so I want to apologize. I’m so, so sorry, baby. I’ll say it as many times as I need to.” As many times as you’ll allow me to. 

His heart is palpitating and he can feel his pulse racing so hard, he can feel it through his veins. He wants to clench his fist to channel the nerves elsewhere, but they’re on your shoulders, and after last night, he can’t even think of treating you with anything other than the gentlest of touches. So you can understand how much you mean to him and how much he means to take care of you. 

Yes, he didn’t mean any of the things he said last night, but he does mean to treat you well. He only hopes those intentions are enough. 

Suna puts a hand on your cheeks and wipes the tears away with his thumbs, fingers lingering. Your tears don’t stop and the hiccups are starting again. You’re shaking your head at him and his heart drops. He hasn’t thought about what he would do if you don’t accept his apology. His voice is shaking a bit as he pleads his case. 

“I… don’t want to break up,” the last two words whispered, as if he was scared that saying them aloud would give them power. 

You’re sobbing, not saying anything, just shaking your head. 

Suna doesn’t know what that means, only desperately hoping that you mean you don’t want to separate either. He throws his arms around you, tightly crushing you against his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut, bracing for impact, and he can hardly believe it when you reciprocate. 

“You were so mean to me, Rin,” you blubber. 

“I know, baby. I’m sorry.” 

“I hate you,” you’re wailing right into his neck now. 

“I know, I know. I love you.” 

When your sobs finally settle down, you keep your arms around his neck. “Rin, I’m sleepy,” you murmur, nuzzling into him. 

He hums, the relief and lack of sleep hitting him all at once. He’s just as unwilling to let you go as you’re unwilling to let him go, so he picks you up by the thighs and takes you to get the sleep you both missed out on last night.

[amuyyi]

unfiltered y/n .

synopsis; two drabbles of y/n being the oldest of newjeans, yet arguably the most chaotic and childish. 21 year old y/n who's very gen z coded and borderline chronically online from a young age.

trope; platonic! newjeans x f!reader, just danielle + hyein bc im lazy

wc; 1.9k

cw; n/a

a/n; guys i think i fr forgot how to write erm so sorry this is dookie but i needed to write something lighthearted to keep my sanity even tho writers block is real rn thumbs up emoji ... also y/n is just me again LMFAO

Humming, your eyes glaze over the Phoning chat. You and Danielle sat comfortably within your practice room, the younger girl joining shortly after seeing you had started a livestream. There was no particular reason for this stream, you simply felt like entertaining your fans for the day. Throughout the livestream, you and Danielle simply talked, being some of the most social and extroverted members of Newjeans, it wasn’t hard for you two to popcorn different topics from one another.

“Did you ever read Warriors?”

“What, that book series about the emo cats?”

“They’re not emo– well…. Actually…”

Both you and Danielle burst into a fit of giggles as you tried to explain the lore of the Warrior Cats series, which then went into you making a powerpoint on why your company should allow you to have a cat in the dorms, which then went into a conversation about how you guys wanted to decorate your ideal home…

When you and Danielle were put into a room together, it almost seemed like you two fueled each other's energy in a never ending cycle. Still, as your laughter dies down, the pair of you decide to just chill, even for a moment. Your attention gets drawn back to the comments whilst Danielle aimlessly scrolled on her phone for a bit.

“y/n, who are your favorite kpop artists??” You read out loud.

Your eyes light up at this question. Before becoming a trainee, you were a die hard fan of many groups back when you were younger. Honestly.. You were a bit of a chronically online kid, despite your social tendencies. Back in the day, you ran a kpop stan twitter, and are well versed in the new vocabulary of online meme culture… as embarrassing as it was to admit the more you thought about it. 

After reading the comment, the mischievous and playful glint in your eye was impossible to ignore, and Dani seemed to pick up on the shift in energy. Shooting you a suspicious glance, you decide to speak up.

“Ah there are so many groups I love… But.. I’d have to say Red Velvet and LOONA...!”

It was an innocent enough answer at a glance, but to some, the underlying message behind it was glaringly obvious.

Almost immediately after speaking, in the most obvious and not discreet fashion, you freeze, arching a brow making a curious looking expression at the camera as you pucker your lips. It was undeniable that you were referencing an all too familiar meme within the LGBTQ community.

Honestly, you were never one to shy away from your sexuality. You were lucky enough to know who you were from a young age. (All of your odd childhood crushes practically spoke for themselves. Rain from the movie Spirit, for example. The horse.) 

It wasn’t long before the girls caught onto you, and they have been nothing but supportive since. Oftentimes they would tease you over your clinginess with your other members, or how you’d very publicly fawn over other female idols, while nearly all of the light drained from your eyes when approached by a man. 

In hindsight, it was a surprise that they didn’t catch on sooner. The way you acted so stiff around male idols when forced to do Tiktoks with them, or how you never entertained their advances. However, it seemed like Some fans did seem to notice faster than your own members, and deemed you “Irene's daughter” as a result— a title in which you wear with pride, might you add! 

That wasn't to say you didn't have your own hardships and struggles with your sexuality at the same time, though. Of course, being a part of one of the biggest kpop groups of your generation, you couldn’t express your sexuality publically. Not yet. It was too risky. A large chunk of your fan base consisted of straight men anyways… Potential backlash would be detrimental. You didn’t want to drag the others down with you. Not when you guys have so much ahead together.

So you keep your head low, put on your best smile, and focus on your members.

….Until moments like these, of course.

Eyes practically boggling out of her head, Danielle bursts into laughter, shoving your shoulder with one hand while she covers her face with her sweater sleeve.

“Unnie…!” she scream-whispers, baffled by your words. Of course she knew what you were hinting at, she didn’t live under a rock her whole life.

Seeing Danielles reaction only seems to egg you on though. What? You weren’t saying anything explicitly queer. Only the people that mattered would know. Worst case scenario, you’d be in some odd rumor or speculation that had no real evidence to back you up. Maybe you’d be seen as an ally. Humming once again, you pretend to think.

“Though if you want to know about male artists….” You take a significantly longer time to answer this as Danielle is left a giggling mess next to you. She seemed almost a little distressed through the laughter, but she trusted you.

“I would probably say I like EXO and Shinee the most.”

Once again, you make that damn face, and Danielle throws her head back in hysterical laughter. She grabs your shoulder and shakes you around, whispering quiet scoldings into your ear as you snicker, feigning an innocent look as the chat practically blows up.

[cha3wonz] – HELLO???? [kaheii] – y/n blow a kiss if u like women [luv__newjeans] – okay ally

Unsurprisingly, clips of your shared live with Danielle went viral. Many stan accounts on twitter began to speculate that you were queer, whilst others fully embraced it. Your favorite posts were the edits of you with the rainbow flag followed up by a question mark. It was all too good.

Honestly, you didn’t even think it was a big deal. You didn’t pay much attention to other male groups– you never did, really, but when you looked at the new incoming generation of boy group members… They practically had the whole pride parade following them. 

There were a few minor articles about you here and there, but you were mostly off the hook.

Danielle lay sprawled across your back whilst you lay on her bed, scrolling through Twitter aimlessly as she laughs at the comments on your recent instagram post.

“It seems that your fangirls can't get enough of you, lovergirl,” she teases lightheartedly as you wiggle beneath her weight, giggling.

Maybe one day you’ll share the news to your fans, and maybe one day they won’t even be surprised. But you’re glad to have what you have now. Just you, your girls, and your ever growing folder of queer y/n memes off of Twitter.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Hyein was in the middle of a solo livestream within her bedroom, lying comfortably in her bed as she showcased various articles of clothing she had bought with Hanni the day prior.

The livestream was going well, peaceful as Hyein makes her way through several t shirts, sweaters, pants, and skirts of all colors and styles.

Right when Hyein was about to reveal her favorite article of clothing from the haul, loud, almost desperate banging rings throughout the room. An almost pathetic sounding yelp of surprise erupts from the girl before she curiously glances at the livestream. 

Leaning forward, she whispers to the camera, “I think… I think there's a creep trying to break in…” 

Suddenly, the door bursts open, with a very flustered and irritated y/n tumbling in shortly after. iPad in hand, you collapse into the bed next to Hyein

“Guys, guy, GUYS. The theme was scene!!! What the hell is this?! Look at THIS versus MY outfit!” You exclaim almost a little too loudly as you shove the ipad in front of the camera. Failing to focus on your screen properly, the viewers simply saw a bright white square as you groaned.

Baffled and still a bit in shock, Hyein speaks up, “Unnie, it's really not that serio–”

“This is bullsh–” You cut yourself off as Hyein snorts loudly at your near slip up. Clearing your throat, you grip your ipad a little tighter than needed, trying to calm down.

“This is unfair. And you know what's worse? Its probably some nine year old with their friends voting for them behind the screen!” You whine out dramatically. With how upset you were getting, it wouldn't be surprising if this genuinely was the one determining factor that would either make or break your night.

Hyein couldn't bite back the amused laugh at your seriousness. 

You took your games pretty seriously. Even if it was roblox. There was something familiar and comforting about it all, really. Lighthearted games like this  played a major part in your childhood— which was, of course, abruptly cut short once you became a trainee at age 14. Now that you were an adult with a job as an idol, you could buy your own robux, buy your own gamepasses and items… and most importantly, stomp on little kids in-game. You were here first, after all.

“Unnie, aren't you like, 21 years old? Don't you think you’re a little too old to—“

“And aren't you like— what, 12?!” You shoot back without even missing a beat.

A brief, yet suffocating silence passes as the both of you stare at each other, wide eyed. Never in your years of knowing the younger girl have you ever been so.. sassy to her. You were the oldest, after all. It was your job to take care of her.

Almost instantly, you drop your ipad and tackle the younger girl in a hug, crying out, “BABY HYEIN!!! IM SORRY…!!!”

Hyein on the other hand, was not as reciprocal to your attempts at apologizing. Upon being tackled, half of the air in her lungs practically got knocked out of her, and she finds herself tumbling backwards into the blankets below. Instead of accepting your obviously very real and very distressed apology, she began struggling to wriggle out of your grasp as she yelled out, “NO! LET ME GO UNNIE!! LET ME GOOO!!!”

Though the youngest towered over you by over half a foot, your grip on her was borderline deadly. Squeezing your arms tightly around her neck in an attempt at being soothing and sweet (you werent) you scream at yourself, rocking her back and forth. 

“I'm so STUPID im SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY I JUST WANTED YOU TO PLAY WITH ME.”

Incoherent screams and movement was seen from the livestream for about 5 minutes before Hyein tapped your arm, giving in.

“Fine, fine..! I forgive you unnie, just let me go…!”

The moments following Hyein’s acceptance of her fate seemed to actually go by pretty smoothly compared to the chaos that had just ensued a few minutes prior.

Laying in bed together, the two of you played dress to impress while on the live, occasionally interacting with the viewers, but mostly focusing on winning the game. A comfortable silence passes, the only sound being nails against iPad screens.

The pair of you would proudly showcase your creations to the camera, and shared mutual frustration when neither of you would even place despite the immense efforts you put into your outfits.

“I swear to god Hyein, I’m gonna buy both of us VIP and we’re gonna leave these girls in the dust…”

As you prepare to go up for your final round of the night, Hyein suddenly perks up.

“Oh look, unnie! This outfit is actually pretty good…”

“Huh? Oh!! You're right! This is super pretty…”

“…”

“…”

“Two stars?”

“Two stars.”

[p0rnd3aler]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE NSFW THINK PIECE/DRABBLE

I’m depraved

Rafayel is the neediest. He’s got a lot of insecurities/abandonment issues from his first love and he def has an anxious attachment style. He’s also absolutely the type of person to be codependent (Hello?? “Join me let’s drown in the ocean together”????? Like, come on). He’s constantly trying to do every little thing with you, almost like he can’t breathe unless it’s air that’s already been filtered through your lungs.

However, all big baby behavior™️ considered, he definitely knows how to woo you. I feel like since he’s Lemurian and also an artist, he only knows how to love a person in the most deeply devoted and romantic way. He’s also very careful with his heart and who he gives it to, once he decides it’s truly and solely yours that’s it. There’s no one else. But you also have to honor that with proper care, he’s very sensitive.

Anyway, I feel like he fucks in a way that’s slow, very sensual. The kind of love making where he takes over all of your senses, all you can feel is his touch, all you can smell is his sweat and cologne, all you can taste is him on your tongue, and all you can see and hear are his face and the sweet words of devotion he whimpers in your ear.

He’s also very easy to rile up.

Zayne is boring to me. Like I get the appeal he’s very hot and he’s also very stable (in a romantic sense) and healthy but I just can’t fantasize about that. Like yeah he’s a busy ass surgeon who will always make time for you no matter what and he’s super devoted and always caring for you in little ways, but also mf will make you take a water break during sex if you’re too wet bc he doesn’t want you to get dehydrated. Im done.

Honestly I think I’m biased against him bc the way he talks to MC just reminds me of this horrid man I met at a bus stop once who immediately started trying to tell me what to do/give me life advice. I get Zayne is qualified and the guy at the bus stop was not but idc if y’all want me to put effort into writing for him ur gonna have to submit it into the requests baby, moving on.

SYLUS. I feel like everybody thinks he’s just some big ol’ nasty freak but they’re WRONG. THEYRE WRONG ABOUT HIM.

Don’t get me wrong he’s definitely fucking tweaking when you first meet him, like just going apeshit off the bat with no context for us. But also? Once you get to know him? Bitch I’ll kill for that man you do not know. This mf drops everything for you.

Important arms deal he’s been trying to set up for a year or going to the arcade with you to get plushies out of a claw machine? Deal = cancelled

The fearless leader of the N109 zone who blows up anyone who perturbs him slightly. MF contributes 50% of the carbon in the atmosphere alone with the amount of shit he literally actually blows up with bombs. But you? You may break into his house and handcuff him to his bed in his sleep while trying to steal a brooch off of him. he doesn’t give a fuck. he’s in love with you. Set his house on fire! He won’t care! He’ll just buy a new one!

As rough as he is around the edges he’s completely smitten. “You should know I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.” Like girl don’t fucking play with me. Is he mentally ill? Absolutely. But he is so devoted, so careful with you. “I’m never annoyed when we do things together.” It’s literally like he’s learning how to be a human being for once and he doesn’t care about losing the coldness or sharpness he once had because you’re more than enough to replace any absence the loss of those thing may bring. He knows he’s getting soft and doesn’t care. He doesn’t try to stop it. To kill for you is nothing to him. Not even a second thought. He kills all the time. But he would never harm again if the violence ever came in between you two.

And I think that dedication, that devotion totally translates itself into how he makes love to you. He’s definitely a filthy talker, I think he says some NASTY shit during sex, just because he likes seeing you squirm and feel how your skin gets hot from his words. But I don’t think he likes hurting you. He wouldn’t do anything to harm you. He’ll spank you yeah, and he’ll tap or squish your cheeks to get your attention. But he only wants to bring you pure, carnal pleasure when it comes to sex. If you even think “that feels good” he’s like a dog with a bone. You get no rest when he’s there you only get mind-numbing pleasure. He’s a tease, he’ll poke lighthearted fun at how loud you’re being, ask you who you think can hear you two while you’re being nasty. But he knows you. He knows what you love, what gets you off, and he cares to learn all of this because of how much he loves you God I’m SICK

Xavier is filthy. That man laps up your pussy like a thirsty dog. The freakiest nastiest mf out of all of them. He won’t show any sexual prowess or interest for months I think. I’m not sure he’s even aware of his powers. Your relationship will literally be based around his chaotic sleeping “schedule” (that shit is not a schedule) and relaxing between missions together. All things considered, you guys spend almost every waking (and sleeping) hour together. Work, dates, naps, eating, it’s almost always together.

It’s not until he hears you getting hit on all night that his composure finally starts to crack.

Three months of the sweetest, purest boyfriend you could ever ask for. Your sweet silly boy, who starts silently pouting all night. It’s not until you two finally find a hotel to stay at for the night, that he finally starts loosening up.

“I’m not a young fool, you know. I don’t take what’s in front of me for granted” he quotes the guys hitting on you earlier, which he heard through your ear piece. Then he recites every time another guy hit on you while you two were on your mission. He’s a jealous jealous jealous boy. He HATES other guys vying for your attention. It just makes him want to whisk you away and bounce you on his dick so loud that every other guy can hear it. When he feels jealousy, he feels the need to mark, claim, devour you so no one else can try and steal you. He gets himself worked up. Stewing and agonizing over the thought and the memory of another guy trying to get to you so much that he can’t even think of sleeping. He gets completely taken over by the urge to have your every reaction solely based on him and what he gives you. I think he fights off these feelings for a long time, up until the protocore mission in the misty invasion memory. He just barely keeps it together until you’re rubbing all over him, pulling him closer to whisper his name in his ear, he just can’t take it. He needs to hear you say it louder. He needs everyone to hear you say his name.

He fucks you so sloppy, the kind of man who does not care what means he has to use as long as the end is what he wants. He wants you covered in marks of his making, he wants you to smell like him, he wants you to have trouble walking the next day, and he wants that asshole who tried hitting on you at work to ask you “what’s wrong? You look like you’re having trouble walking”

And as soon as the guy asks that you look over to Xavier, who has the most pleased little shit eating grin on his face.

The craziest part is that after he gets it all out of his system he’s back to being the little innocent sweet boy. But you know his secret, and he likes that you know it.

[starzradio]

DOUBLE OR NOTHING

after countless empty promises spilled from his lips, you wanted to believe that he’d show up to your anniversary of all things.

FEATURING: toji fushiguro x wife! reader

CONTENTS: non canon compliant/au, marriage problems, talks of divorce, angst, smut, porn w/out plot rly, unprotected p in v, cunnilingus, fingering, spanking, doggy, missionary against a wall, pet names (ma, princess, etc.)

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: repost bc i need this dilf in my bed rn 😞

"I'll make it home to you by six, mama. Take you out on a nice date, get you some flowers, all that stuff you like. Promise."

The clock was nearing eight o'clock with no signs of Toji coming through the door anytime soon, your own patience starting to run out with every tick. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound echoed through your ears since you'd sat down on the leather couch nearly two hours ago, waiting for Toji to fulfill the promise. A promise that he'd made after flaking out on the date planned prior to that one.

And prior to that one. And prior. It'd been more missed dates than actual ones that he'd taken you out by now—you weren't exactly sure why you'd hoped for tonight to be different. Well, you knew exactly why. Today marked three years of being married to one another. You knew that he didn't prioritize date nights with you as much as he should, but you had held some sort of foolish hope that your anniversary would mean something—anything to him.

The divorce papers felt like a dead weight in your hand, much like how your relationship would be the second that you brought it up. It all just seemed so final, seeing the terms laid out that would end years of marriage. Just by the flick of a pen. But the idea was almost like a reprieve, like something that was worth looking forward to. You shook your head, getting up from the couch to set the stack of papers on the kitchen table where Toji wouldn't miss them.

Another half hour of eerie silence and Toji still hadn't come through the door. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep some semblance of hope that he'd even show up at all, much less for your date. You admitted defeat, slipping off your heels and pulling up a throw blanket over yourself. Succumbing to the sleep that was weighing down on your eyelids.

You weren't even sure how much time had passed when you heard the door swing open, the door hitting the wall from the force. The thud of his shoes hitting the tile followed, a grumble leaving Toji's lips. "Fuckin' bastards rigged that race. Robbed me of fifty bucks," he muttered to himself, slipping his coat off before placing it up on the coat rack.

"You're home late," you called out, watching as Toji turned to look at the couch before flicking on one of the living room lights. "Jesus woman, you scared me," he grumbled, a large hand resting by his chest as he looked over in your direction. Toji rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion lingering on his face like a second skin. It was only then that he looked over at you, really looked at you, and what you were wearing.

Ah shit.

Almost as if he wanted to make the situation worse, he'd chosen to go with, "You got all dolled up just to fall asleep on the couch?" You could've sworn you felt your eye twitch at the question. He'd barely opened up his mouth and you were already wishing that he didn't even bother showing up for the night.

Toji knew he was in deep shit with each step he took into the living room, his mind already starting to work overdrive to figure out what he could do for what he'd missed. A date? No, you wouldn't have put on the very expensive pair of Louboutins for just any date. His mind was blanking on anything other than the numbers that he'd lost with earlier in the day. Come on, think.

"No, I got dolled up because I thought I'd be going out with my husband tonight," you retorted dryly, smudges of eyeshadow sticking to your hand when you went to rub at your eyes. You could see Toji's brows furrow, the wheels seeming to turn in his head for once, before a look of realization settled on his features.

"Look, I'm sorry. I got carried away at the casino," one of the many excuses you'd heard before coming back to bite you in the ass. The same excuse that he'd used last month when he forgot about a work party you'd mentioned to him. Which wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for all the snide comments being whispered in your direction and all the unwarranted marriage advice.

Advice that you ended up forgetting about chugging down two glasses of tequila like water. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. You can pick the place and all that shit." There went another one. He'd really topped himself using the two of them in a row. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, looking over at him in disbelief. "Do you even know what today was? Why I'm so pissed off?"

"It's your birthday?" Toji spoke after a couple seconds, the answer clearly wrong just by the look on his face. You rubbed a hand over your face, standing up from your spot on the couch. "It's our wedding anniversary, Toji," you spoke up before he made another guess that would just piss you off even further, "And I have something I need to talk to you about. It's on the kitchen table."

Underneath the vase filled with wilted flowers—a collection more than anything that you kept around as a reminder that Toji used to care, was a stack of papers. He placed the vase down on the table with more force than necessary upon realizing what the documents were. "A divorce?" The words slipped out of him with such venom, such distaste, like the idea was unfathomable.

Toji slammed the papers down on the table, the salt and pepper shakers trembling before falling over. "Is that really what you want?" He stepped closer to you when you approached the table, his hands instinctively moving to hold your hips. Holding you close to his body. "No, I didn't get married with the intention of getting a divorce. But you've been neglecting this marriage for a couple months now."

"I'll make it up to you now," Toji spoke quickly, like he was afraid of losing you at any moment. Like you'd disappear if he didn't. And as much as you wanted to avoid looking over at him, the task had just become all that much difficult when you had nowhere else to look at. It only took one glance at his face to realize just what he meant by 'making it up to you.'

"You think you're gonna fix months of pushing me aside with just sex?"

"Nah, I know it's gonna take more. But you've been so tired, isn't that right? So tired of tryin' to keep this marriage from falling apart and nobody taking care of you?" His words were like a siren's song when he whispered them in your ear, your traitorous body leaning back to meet the drag of your fingertips. It was almost laughable at how easily your resolve had melted. "Lemme take care of you mama. Promise I'll make you feel good."

"You wanna call me a dick, never wanna see me again? That's fine, just don't deny me one last taste. Please," And while Toji wasn't a man to beg for anything in his life, he found himself saying the words anyways. "Thought this was you making it up to me," and as much as you were willing yourself not to fold, you felt yourself spreading your legs almost instinctively when his finger dragged up your inner thigh.

"Can't it be both?" Toji's teeth nipped at your neck, licking a stripe up the junction of your neck. Practically salivating at the taste of you, of the expensive perfume you'd put on just a mere hours beforehand. "One could say that you're just being selfish," your words quickly died out when Toji started sucking on your pulse point, your own heartbeat betraying you. You'd expected Toji to sass you back, say something about how your body was just so needy against his touch.

But instead, he dropped down to his knees in front of you. The wooden floor underneath his knees almost made him feel bad for all the times he had you in a similar position. Almost. Toji looked up at you, "Selfish only when it comes to you."

Every slow drag of his fingertips across your smooth skin seemed almost reverent— like you were something to worship. You were, he just failed to realize that until now. Until you were almost out the door. "I'm sorry," the first real apology of the night slipped out of his mouth, his lips pressed against your shin. "I'm sorry," he moved up to your knee, repeating the action. Hushed whispers of I'm sorry's and featherlight kisses moving up your legs, stopping only when he gets to your clothed cunt.

"I'm sorry," Toji uttered his last apology against your cunt, his eyes locking onto yours as he applied an open mouthed kiss on your clothed clit. Barely darting his tongue out, swirling it against the nerves that were just begging for one ounce of stimulation. And he was practically reveling in how needy he made you in the span of seconds. Your back arched to rest against the seat behind you, one of your hands going to rest on his head.

Toji's fingers dragged slowly in between your folds, feeling the wet patch already starting to form through the thin lace material. You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did, he'd be able to see just how desperate you were in just a manner of seconds. Even if the bastard probably had a clue already. "You sure your pussy agrees with the divorce?" His voice came out to something akin to a purr, the drag of his fingers slowing down.

Getting you even more worked up than you were already. "Fucking hate you, can't even apologize right," you let out a hiss, your hand going down to his hair. Pulling his head even closer to you despite your previous claim. "Fine, I'll apologize correctly," Toji sounded like you were the one inconveniencing him—to which you were. He wanted to take his time with his meal, have you begging for him to touch you. And normally, he would've.

If he weren't desperate to have your cunt on his face again after weeks, months? of just having his fist to work with. His fist and a used pair of your panties up to his nose like a pervert, hips humping the air in desperation. Imagining that it was your tongue flicking across his leaking tip instead of his thumb, that it was your soft hands in exchange of his rough ones. And as easy as it was for him to get laid—he didn't want to be with anyone that wasn't you.

Toji hadn't tasted someone as sweet as you, heard someone so angelic before, but now he supposed that maybe he'd have to put that theory to the test if you left him after all. Just the idea was maddening. That someone else would be doing the same thing that he's doing to you now, that they'd give you the affection that he should've given.

"Especially sorry to you. Been neglecting you for too long," he hooked his fingers around the side of your panties, pulling them to the side just enough to reveal your slick folds to him. Toji swiped the tip of his finger along your entrance, your slick glistening against the harsh kitchen lighting before he stuck in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it, licking away at it like the slut he was.

And like the deprived man that he'd been, Toji's hands went to the lace of your underwear and stretched it out until a loud rip echoed throughout the kitchen. "You always this wet for people you hate? Or is that just for me?" Toji taunted, pushing your tattered panties down to your ankles. Finally leaning in closer to where you were aching for him to touch you. To do something other than just tease you relentlessly.

Toji settled on his knees behind you, spreading your legs open like you were his favorite meal. His tongue swiped up on your dripping cunt, licking up your essence with sheer greed. "Mmph fuck, so good," his words came out muffled, his tongue swiping across your folds before darting inside of your cunt. Your grip on the table tightened, your hips working on their own accord to push back onto his face. Practically suffocating him in your pussy. Not that he minded. By any means.

Toji practically welcomed it, his hands pushing you down onto his face. Getting absorbed in your cunt completely. "A-Ah fuck, Toji!" You could already see the noise complaint hanging on your front door first thing in the morning. But how could you be expected to keep your voice down? Toji spread your folds apart with two fingers as if he were preparing for a feast, his tongue feverishly licking in between.

"Fuckin' soaked already, knew you loved me," The vibration of the low chuckle that followed his words shot currents up your spine, your ass jiggling all that much more in his face. With such a decadent taste coating his taste buds, dying by your pussy would be nothing short of a blissful way to go out. One of the fingers that he'd been using to spread your folds had been pushed inside of your cunt, your walls clenching around him.

Toji's tongue flicked against your clit, swirling the tip around the bud while his finger slowly pushed further inside of you. The loud squelch of your cunt was the only thing that filled the apartment, everything else completely silent. Your fingers dug deeper into his scalp, a low groan leaving his lips. "F-Fuck, Toji Toji," he pushed another thick finger inside, moving them in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

"You think y're gonna find someone who can do this?" Toji looked up at you, his fingers curling up to hit that spongy spot inside of you almost perfectly. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that he looked vulnerable while he made the question. Toji's lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking on it as his fingers worked you closer and closer to your orgasm. You couldn't bring yourself to answer—didn't trust yourself to speak.

"Toji, Toji, gonna cum," you gave him a warning, your jaw falling slack and your lips parting in a o-shape. Soundless moans leaving your lips, feeling that coil in your lower tummy start to tighten up all the much more. With one final pump of his fingers, you were covering his lips with your release. His tongue swiped across his lips, across the scar that he hated, collecting every drop. Savoring what he imagined would be the last taste of you.

"Turn around," It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd turned around per your soon-to-be ex husband's request.

Toji didn't take more than a couple seconds in unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. Precum dribbled from his annoyingly almost pretty pink tip, dripping onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. His cock slid through your folds like a slip n slide, your previous orgasm coating his tip with every lazy drag. "Toji," your voice bordered on a whine, pushing your hips to try to meet his movements.

"Tell me what you want," Toji clicked his tongue, one of his hands moving to hold your waist. Keeping you completely still until he got what he wanted. You figured there wasn't any harm in whining—you were already fucking the man after you brought up a divorce. There truly wasn't that much more to lose. "Why do I have to ask for it when you're the one apologizing?"

"Because you're the one pushing your hips back against me. All needy 'n shit. So.. beg."

"Want you inside me, Toji. Please."

"Want?"

You let out a huff before correcting yourself, "Need."

"Come on, doll. You can say it nicer than that, right?" Toji's pointer trailed up your torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

So goddamn annoying. You swallowed whatever pride you had left before looking back over at him, "Please, Toji. Need your cock in me. Please."

Toji clicked his tongue, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving himself a couple tentative pumps. "Think you can beg better than that. But since I'm feeling nice, I guess I'll let it slide." So much for feeling apologetic. Toji pushed his cock inside of you in one swift motion, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. Even with the fingers that'd been inside of you, nothing could've really prepared you.

"You okay?" Toji dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, whispering the words in your ear. Staying still while your walls tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. "You try taking your cock," you muttered dryly, giving him a nod to start moving. "Why would I do that when you take it so well?" Toji pushed the rest of his cock inside, his hands resting on your hips.

Toji wasn't particularly known for being gentle—the one hospital visit after he'd injured your cervix more than enough proof of that, but he started off slow. Slow, shallow thrusts. Fucking you in a way that he hasn't since your honeymoon. "Toji, you can speed up," you assured him, your words getting cut off with a smack to your ass. "What I'd say about tellin' me what to do?" Ah, there was the mean Toji that you recognized.

"Wouldn't need to tell you what to do if my vibrator wasn't looking more appealing right now."

Famous last words.

The change was almost immediate. Mascara dribbled down your cheeks, the sight of your once composed makeup all ruined making Toji's cock twitch inside of you. "Fucking pretty like this, y'know?" His teeth sunk down on the junction of your shoulder, his teeth grazing across the sensitive flesh. His hips snapped roughly into yours, your breathing growing erratic. "Fuck, Fuck, Toji!"

The coldness of his gold wedding band hit your skin as soon as he went to grip your hips, holding you against him like he needed to be close to you. The two of you had been distant for some time and he hadn't bothered to take off his wedding band once, not even on the rare occasion that he actually did happen to take a job. Toji would never admit it, of course—but he was starved for the feeling of your skin against his own.

To confirm that you were still here after all.

Your hands reached out to grab to whatever you could grab—anything, and of course, it just happened to be the divorce papers sitting on the middle of the table. Practically taunting you as your own signature glared back at you. "This good enough for you, princess?" Toji taunted in your ear, his blunt fingernails digging into your sides. "Mhm, j-just like that," your voice came out in a mewl, all bits of defiance completely out of your system.

"There you go. Nasty fucking girl," Toji all but purred in your ear the moment you started to jerk your hips back to meet his own, your ass bouncing with each one of his thrusts. "Just needed Toji to take care of ya," all you could was nod your head fervently, your grip on the divorce papers tightening. And Toji, of course, took notice. He took the papers from you with one hand, giving them a once-over before passing them back over.

"Come on, since ya wanted it so bad, read me those divorce papers," Toji handed you the stack of papers, pointing to where you'd signed your initials just a couple hours prior. Your hands shook as you held the papers, your vision blurry as you tried to make out the legal jargon in front of you. Even the simplest of words seemed all too complicated to try to make out.

"T-Toji, I can't," your voice cracked, your grip on the papers tightening when his cock reached all that much deeper inside of you. Toji clicked his tongue, peering over your shoulder to read the first sentence from the document. "That's not what it says ma, try again."

"Without all the stuttering too."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the words in front of you instead of Toji's cock sinking further and further into you. "S-Says that the divorce agreement was made today between us," you clutched the sheets tighter, your eyes almost rolling back when Toji bottomed out inside of you. The tip of his cock dripping precum, your walls fluttering as you tried to get adjusted.

"Mm, yeah, keep goin'," Toji really couldn't care—his focus solely on the way that your cunt stretched out to fit his cock. Leaking around his shaft, loud squelches when he pulled out overplaying whatever shitty soap opera was playing. "And what'd I say about the s-stuttering?" Toji mocked your words, his own hips stuttering mere seconds later while he tried not to get absorbed in your cunt. Not that it was an easy task by any means.

It was hard, especially with the way that you claimed to be over this marriage despite your pussy claiming otherwise. When you opened your mouth to speak, the only thing that left you was a moan. "F-Fuck Toji, right there," your eyes shut tightly at the touch of his calloused hand making itself in between your legs, his thumb rubbing at your clit in a speed that felt like it combated his own running abilities.

"That's not what it says, c'mon," Toji grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, turning your head to face the overwhelmingly long divorce papers. You wouldn't finish tonight if he intended for you to read the whole thing, you knew that much. A harsh slap against your swollen clit made the pleasure coursing through your veins mix with pain, a shaky gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, the black ink smearing with each drop that fell from your parted lips. Your walls enveloped every inch of his cock perfectly, your cunt holding his cock in a vice-like grip. "That I won't try to t-take your things," you managed to get out, hoping that it would be good enough. You knew the two of you wouldn't finish today if he made you read the never ending stack of papers. 

"Good enough," Toji sounded like he would've kept it going if he could, but you set them down as quickly as he spoke. It was almost like Toji was trying to remind you of why you'd fallen in love with him in the first place—the man reverent to your cunt and your cunt only. Every grip of your hips kept you closer and closer to his body, almost as a way for Toji to make sure you weren't slipping away.

"Wh—" Before you had the chance to complain about the loss of contact, Toji had already carried you without a smidge of struggle. His hands hooked underneath your plush thighs, hoisting you up against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slutty waist, practically clinging onto him like a koala. "There we go, there's that pretty lil face," Toji placed his pointer underneath your chin, taking in the view in front of him.

The glazed over look in your eyes, the sweat beading up on your forehead, the makeup that he'd successfully ruined—everything about you was just so beautiful. How you tried to avoid looking in his direction for too long. "Don't leave me ma, need you in my life," the words were whispered into your ear, his cock pushing back inside of you in one swift motion. Toji's fingers went back to your throbbing clit, his pointer and middle rubbing against it at the perfect speed.

Not too fast, not too slow, and not too rough.

"Don't ask me to do that," you almost sounded pained as you spoke—not from him filling you up, but for the implication of his words. You'd practically babble anything right now, anything for him to keep going. To forget about the reality that awaits the two of you. Toji's lips found yours in an instant, the exchange between the two of you almost depraved. His mouth was feverish in the way that it moved against yours, like he'd never get the chance again.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pushing him closer against you. Letting yourself forget for just a little while longer. A string of saliva connected your lips to his when you pulled away—only to catch air. "I’m close, Toji, so close," you whined against his lips, your release coating his shaft a mere moments later. Toji only used that as lubricant, his movements quicker against your cunt to chase his own release.

"There's no one else for me, I'll stop goin' to t-the casino, stop gettin' into trouble," Toji had been reduced to a babbling the first thing he pulled out of his ass, if only to get you to stay. His head rested against the junction of your neck, basking in the remnants of proximity that he could get. Shaky breaths left his lips with each thrust of his hips, feeling himself getting closer and closer. "You've been saying that since we've been married."

"I mean it this time, I promise," you'd never heard a lie sound so pretty slipping from someone's lips before until now.

He bit down on the side of your neck, hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to where you'd probably have to use a tube of concealer to even attempt to cover up the bruising mark. Causing you problems even now. But you'd be lying if the sudden act of possessiveness had your walls clenching against him even tighter, if that was even possible anymore.

His cock was barely moving against the tight grip you held around his shaft, his pace stuttering. "Fuck, fuck, so tight," Toji let out a loud groan, completely at the will of your pussy. He threw his head back, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks in this lighting. Ropes and ropes of cum decorated your cunt, his softening length snug inside of you. Toji ended up pulling out a couple moments later, scooping the drops of cum that leaked down your thighs with his finger.

Toji was shameless in the way that he stuck the finger in his mouth, a low moan leaving his lips at the combined taste of him and you. Before your rationality came back, before you got the chance to even think about regretting this, you leaned in and crashed your lips against his own. Tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss lingered between the two of you more than it needed to, it was less rushed than the prior ones you'd shared.

Like a last taste.

"So, you still want to get that divorce?" Toji knew you would've just babbled whatever for him to keep going, saving the question until now. His movements were almost reluctant as he pulled his pants over his legs once again, making little attempt to fix up his hair. If anything, his fingers only ended up messing the strands even more. Despite knowing the answer deep down, Toji still held out hope. That maybe you'd had some eye-opening moment while he was balls-deep.

You stood up properly, looking over at the ruined sheets on the table before looking back over at him. "I do," you spoke after a couple seconds, grabbing your tattered panties from the floor and smoothing over your dress. Trying to maintain whatever semblance of dignity you had left. Even if it was probably just as tattered up as your underwear at this point.

"Why? You know I love you. You know that you love me. So why should we get separated?" You did know that. But you also weren't sure that he'd ever loved you enough to consider changing. To consider the fact that you needed some sort of affection outside of sex.

"Because you think that somehow every problem between us can be resolved with sex. You say that you want to do better and yet, you never do. It doesn't even feel like you're my husband half of the time," all the bottled up feelings from the past couple months spilled out of you in a manner of seconds. All the bottled up thoughts that maybe you should've told your husband about earlier. Though, you weren't even sure if Toji would've paid it any mind.

And almost as if he'd read your train of thought, "Why didn't you tell me about all this before just hittin' me with divorce papers?"

"Because the few times that I did, you told me to stop bitching. That I shouldn't have anything to complain about with a roof over my head and a fridge full of food," you started off, almost waiting for him to deny what you were saying, "And while I'm not saying that I'm not thankful for those things, I also don't want to feel ungrateful for saying that I miss my husband."

Silence lingered between the two of you, each second that passed by only confirming what the two of you already knew by now. That a divorce wasn't such a far-fetched idea. Toji knew there wasn't left to even attempt fighting for, so he simply just told you, "I'll sign 'em when you get the new ones."

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝑳𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒐

╰┈➤ ❝ lee know x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24: voice kink

tags : pwp (without plot), voice kink, established relationship, birthday shenanigans, kitchen setting (but no food involved in what actually… goes on), teasing, lee know being a little shit, as in he literally does not let you live down your voice kink, heavy petting, fingering, dirty talk (a lot), praise, use of pet names "honey" "baby". lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 1.6k

an : ur girl finally has electricity so im MAKING IT BEFORE THE NIGHT ENDS HERE just a little something before the end of the day bc i wouldn't have wanted to miss lee know's birthday for the world <3

taglist : @love-and-deepstrays

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

He would use his birthday privileges to the fullest, and you'd realize, sometimes the voice of an angel did not belong to an angel. Not that you were complaining.

"Mhm, just like that. That's it, baby, keep going…"

His voice rang through, nearly snaking all over your body, goosebumps raising on the surfact of your skin. It was smooth, and delicate, and—

And sweet.

That was how you would describe it.

His voice was like honey in your ears as he leaned against the counter beside you, looking over your shoulder the tiniest bit just to see what you were doing. If you were actually following his instructions, if the dish was turning out right… The two of you had crowded over the pot in front of you as you stirred, a recipe you'd tried out from him, under his guidance.

Apparently, you'd been successful so far.

Yet it wasn't the praise that had you drawing a breath, but the way that he said it.

"Mmm… It smells good, don't you think, honey?"

The only thought in your head was that it was simply unfair for him to call you by the name, when you thought such a word could only be used to describe him.

Glancing over at him, you could see his eyes widen with pleasant anticipation. He wasn't focusing on your reaction, that much you were sure of. And part of you felt grateful for it.

It had been like this for most of the day. True, you had always had a special sort of adoration for his voice, and yet, today of all days, it was sincerely doing a number on you.

You couldn't have known if it was because it was his birthday, or something else entirely.

He had one request for his birthday this year: nothing fancy, nothing extreme, just… time spent with you. It had been busy for him and the boys, and today was one day he was allowed to kick back and relax without having to worry about his obligations for a moment—you knew that. So you'd respected his wish, and the two of you had agreed for there to be no surprises, none of the fancy things, and you'd learn to cook a new dish together for lunch.

It was going well.

It should have been… aside from the fact that, on your end, you felt as if your body had been lit on fire.

Each time he spoke, each time he would give you an instruction, or a little bit of praise… It felt like being doused in the smoothness of it; slick, and heavy, and all-consuming. Your body felt wrapped around in his voice in all its entirety. Every word felt like a caress, and your mind would wander.

The things he could make you do with that voice… the things he could make you feel.

With how your knees would feel weak, it was purely a wonder how you'd managed to get through this much of the day at all.

"Sweetheart? Hiiii? Helloooo?"

Eyes wide, you jumped back with a start, seeing his fingers snapping in front of you. Your head turned to look at him in surprise, and there was a cute little frown of concern on his face—not that it would make you feel any less sheepish.

"Spacing out?" he leaned in to peer at you, and there was a light tone to his voice this time that almost lead you to believe he was teasing. "I was saying, we can put the foil over it now and let it slow cook."

"Oh, um… right… yeah…"

Gaze shifting, you nearly stumbled as you move to get the foil, and you could practically feel his amused stare burning holes into the back of his head.

You should have known.

There was very little you could do to throw him off, even if you truly tried.

Before you could do anything else, he reached over to turn the stove off, and promptly moved to corner you against the counter. The roll of foil you'd been holding dropped to the floor, and you looked at him, eyes wide.

"Baby," he drawled, his voice laced with pure, unobstructed mirth. "What's gotten into you?"

Your back was tightly pressed against the counter. His arms were on either side of you.

You were caged.

And, well, you could try, if you wanted to.

You could try to lie.

But that was it: try. And that trial would be unsuccessful. Every fiber in your body was telling you that it would be.

You wondered if there had ever been anyone who was successful with it when it came to him.

"M-Minho…" you breathe out his name, swallowing thickly.

"Yes, baby?"

He was unfair.

His breath ghosted over your skin as he leaned in closer, closer, just so you could hear him right next to your ear.

He knew.

"M-Minh—"

"You're soooooo obvious, you know."

When he spoke again, his voice dropped an octave lower, and you could practically hear the grin in his voice. Your only response was a helpless squeak. Your eyes shut closed. There was absolutely no way you'd be escaping this.

He continued to speak.

"I can't believe you're getting turned on by this… It's my voice, right, honey?" he laughed softly. "Ahh… what've you been thinking about?"

Your cheeks heated up, and shook your head. "Th-that's… I'm not going to say it!"

"No?"

"No!"

A lick at your earlobe, and he did it again—lower. "Are you sure, baby? It's my birthday, you know… I thought I get to do what I want?"

An involuntary shiver shot up through your spine, and you couldn't help it anymore. The soft moan that left your lips was barely there, but it was there.

And he heard it.

"Tsk, tsk. Guess I'll have to speak your thoughts for you, then."

You truly, truly wouldn't have needed to look at him to see his eyes crinkled up in amusement, the corner of his lips turned up into a slight smirk.

"How about…"

His lips moved to your neck, placing a trail of kisses down to your collarbone.

"My hands all over you… grazing over your skin, aaalll the places I know you love…" As if intending to follow through with his words, his hands snaked under your shirt—his shirt—to trail over your body.

The whimper you let out earned you a hum of satisfaction.

He continued.

"No? Not enough?" he smiled. "Hmm, then… Were you also thinking about…" His hands moved lower, lower. Moving with his words, they found the waistband of your panties and slowly began to pull them down. "This, maybe? My fingers teasing your pretty little pussy?"

Your breathing became shallow.

Your eyes glazed over as you met his gaze, and he had the audacity to chuckle.

The truth was that he was barely touching you. Even as the pads of his fingers traced every outline of your body, even if they squeezed at your thighs, even as they moved tantalizingly closer to where you needed them the most—

That wasn't it.

He knew that.

It was why he stood grinning at you, teasing you with his touches, and… speaking.

"Ohh… Or, maybe that's not it. Maybe my baby was thinking about being fucked by me." His voice took on a melifluous tone, low, and sweet, and perfect, and it was enough to coax a moan from your body. "Yeah? Having me bend you over the counter, slide my cock into that perfect pussy of yours… Is that it?"

He leaned in again, this time focusing his attention to your other ear, as he brought his voice to a whisper.

"And that's not all I'd do. 'Cause I'd have my lips pressed against your ear just like this, giving you slooww, teasing thrusts while I tell you how much I need you…"

Without much of a warning, his fingers slid into your hole, the sensation of being filled combining with the pure sense of euphoria his voice was drenching you in, and you moaned. Louder this time, with nothing to hold you back—your head threw back in pleasure, and his laugh… his fucking laugh.

You couldn't even begin to understand how worked up he had gotten you by simply hearing him speak, and as he lifted your legs onto the counter to spread you more clearly for him, there was little in you to refuse.

Instead, you caved.

"Y-yes!" you cried out, hips bucking into his hand. "Y-you and your goddamn voice… s'not fair, Minho!"

He grinned. "It's not fair? But you look so pretty like this, honey. It makes me so happy I can reduce you to… this… with just… my… voice…"

As he spoke, he once again lowered into a breathy whisper, air hitting the shell of your ear as he thrust—unfairly—in time with his words.

"Hnn— M-Minho-!"

"Mhm, just like that. That's it, baby, keep going…"

The same words.

The same exact words.

They rang clear in your head, the added sultriness to the way he said it now only making you keen with pleasure.

"Ah— I-I'm…! I'm—"

"Close, baby? Yeah? Wanna cum?"

Sweet.

That was how you could describe it.

Like honey to your ears, smooth, and alluring, and—

And perfect.

With a cry of his name, your hips stuttered, orgasm crashing through your body like waves on a shore.

All the while, he whispered soothing, sweet, sweet nothings into your ear, before he pulled out his fingers to suck them clean.

"Mmm…" He grinned at you. "Like icing on a cake."

You were in his arms in barely a minute, squealing as he lifted you up from the counter:

"Not done yet, honey. I gotta claim my birthday present properly."

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[muntitled]

heyyyy!! my brain gave me a half-assed thought in the nighttime starring best friend/perv!Lee Minho and bimbo!Reader. Minho's ALWAYS flirting with and staring at you, but you just (somehow) never notice. he likes seeing you wear those little outfits that barely cover you up and always mentions that you should only wear that stuff for him. one day he was just at his limit after another failed attempt at flirting. so, he just pushes you against the wall. you can feel how hard he is behind you, but you didn't see this coming so you're freaking out. and he just tells you "i'm gonna have what i want. so you might as well take what i give you."

-💌 (p.s. i hope this was coherent) ((p.p.s. make sure you take time for yourself to rest and just breathe bc that beautiful mind of yours is so so important!! <3))

𝐏𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲

Lee Minho x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst, Insecurities, Jealousy, Possessive!Minho, Smut +18 (Minors DNI) dub/con, Bratty!reader, Brat Tamer!Minho, Perv!Minho, Dom/Sub Themes, Mean Dom!Minho, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Grinding, Mutual Masturbation, CNC, Overstimulation

Fueling the Dom!Minho agenda

You did not particularly deal well with being unliked. Everybody has to like you all the time and there is no concrete way to tell your best friend this. Especially while he's driving down the highway, with rain pellets beating down the windshield.

You did not look at Minho when you initially slipped into the car. So completely and utterly suffocated by embarrassment.

The call prior to being picked up had been less than savoury.

"Isn't it too early to be calling me to come save you from your date?" His voice was completely drenched in his ususual smug sarcasm, "Or was he just that fucking boring?"

"I've been stood up and I'm not exactly sure where I am."

Almost immediately, Minho forced you to send your location until he was speeding over to where you sat, in your little dress all alone under the awning of a Michelin star restaurant.

You had thought the worst of the evening was behind you…

The car is completely drenched in silence with neither you, nor Minho knowing exactly how the broach such a sensitive topic. You're embarrassed. He knows this. The only thing evading his understanding is why… Why are you embarrassed when you shouldn't be?

"At least give me a name or an address or something," Minho's voice is dangerously low and you peer up at him with wide eyes from the passenger seat. Seeing him so put together is wholly off putting. Dressed in nothing but his sweats and a polo shirt- all black, all Tom Ford- Minho's gaze is fucking deadly as he glares at the road ahead. His frustration manifests in the form of whitened knuckles gripping a steering wheel for dear life.

"Minho, I'm not giving you his address just so you can go and harass him." The fact that you even had to reiterate this is beyond your comprehension.

"I honest-to-God, just wanna have a word with the guy..." Minho says, swinging his head towards you, completely paralysing you with the depths of his endless dark eyes. Instead of waging a war with Minho (one you knew you couldn't possibly win,) you choose to accept defeat. It consumes your entire countenance as you sink down into the passenger seat, avoiding eye contact.

"Why can't anyone love me?" The rain droplets rattling Minho's vehicle only amplifies the question and for the umpteenth time tonight, Minho is overcome with mass frustration. Again, you should not be the one feeling unwanted. You should not be letting scum of the very earth dictate the trajectory of your self worth. To make matters impossibly worse, another car swerves into his lane, completely cutting him off from a seamless drive.

"Jesus, Fuck!" While Minho curses out the driver, you keep your head against the window.

"I think I'm cursed to stay single and bitchless for the rest of my life."

You didn't get it.

You were a fairly good girl, never once stepping out of bounds. Not at work: where you worked so diligently for a boss who didn't always deserve it.

Not in your adolescence: Where you never rebelled, not even once. You lovingly spared your parents all the heartache even after you matured enough to go to college.

Perhaps the reason all your dates ended with a certified ghosting was because you simply weren't cut out for relationships. That is the most harrowing thought of them all...

Minho's voice pipes up from beside you, effectively saving you from slipping into self pity, "I think you're overlooking one major factor when it comes to staying single and bitchless for the rest of your life," You're already rolling your eyes, "And what's that?"

You can practically hear the pompous smirk as Minho says, "I'm right here. I'm always right here."

Instead of responding, your tone remains wistful and airy.

"The guy took one look at me and gassed the fuck out of the restaurant." Your blood pressure is being shot to hell at just the very thought of the man (who had contacted you first, thank you very much).

"It's like he decided reality didn't match what he saw on tinder and took it all back..." you conclude your rant with a heavy and listless exhale.

Minho, who continued to glare at the wet tar road ahead, allows his mind to conjure up every possible way your 'date' might've died on his way home. Instead of voicing these homicidal thoughts, Minho instead, cleverly and cooly asks, "What kind of weirdos are you going on dates with?"

Your reply comes sickeningly quick. "The kind of weirdos that give me the time of day," and to make matters impossibly worse, you attach a pitiful and dry chuckle to the end of your sentence. "Not everyone is like you, Minho. Not everyone has the luxury of being the object of everyone's desires." His stomach sinks deeper and deeper with the sadness that coats your voice. Anything that might save him from this suffocating feeling at the bottom of his stomach brought on by the sadness in your tone.

"I just don't get it?" Your sad eyes watch as Minho pulls into the parking lot of his apartment complex.

"I didn't smell bad ‘cus I made sure to wear Chanel number five-" Minho can do nothing except clench his jaw. His grip on the steering wheel is deadly as he eases his car into the vacant spot… “and this dress Lix bought me for graduation- I mean he assured me I don't look fucking bloated in it so I assume I looked fine." He tries to make it through your pity party, really, he does. Whenever you found yourself in this state, slipping deeper and deeper into your insecurities, Minho found it terribly difficult to pull you out.

Difficult but not impossible

"I'm telling you," he chooses to say instead, righting his shoulders and cutting off the engine as he forces that confident smirk back onto his face, "If you wanna get laid so badly I'm always a phone call away...."

Instead of entertaining Minho's words, your mind wanders, “Maybe I'm just not hardwired for a relationship. Maybe all I'll have until I reach my deathbed is my rose toy and 5000 cats-”

“False. You have my fingers any time. Or my mouth-”

And for some reason, that statement alone… that one little flirt becomes the undoing of your sanity. “MINHO BE SERIOUS FOR FIVE FUCKING SECONDS JESUS CHRIST!” You do not know, nor do you care if your voice is loud enough to bleed outside, enough to disrupt any passerbys. You've fucking had it.

With men who disappoint you.

With men who say they'll show up but choose not to.

“I'm telling you I fucking failed this evening! I failed and you're not listening-

In what appears to be a snarky remark to the side, Minho mumbles, “I'm not the one that's not listening-”

“I don't need your teasing right now, Jesus! The fact that I have to spell that out-” you release a sigh “Fucking never mind,” you feel utterly defeated, and before you brain catches up to the movement of your hands, you're already typing frantically for a ride assistance app.

Minho scoffs incredulously. That sunshine smile bleeds quickly into a dangerous glare and he watches as you type frantically across your screen. “Say what you gotta say.”

“I didn't ask you to come pick me up, just so you could interrogate me-” before your sentence could become another uphill screaming match you shake your head in a way that has Minho's knuckles whitening across the inactive steering wheel. His patience was dwindling dismally and he had the vaguest suspicion that you know this.

In fact, you might have always known this: Which buttons to push to get which reaction.

He's noticed it for a while since the peroration of your ‘friendship’. Something that blossomed into a friendship when he so very clearly tried to make it everything but.

“I'm gonna take an Uber home,” you say in a tone he can only describe as bratty.

“I swear to fucking God.” he says, manic eyes crinkling at the sides in a smile of disablief, his tongue jutting against the inside of his cheek.

Minho's not sure what he wants to do but he's damn sure you're not going to like it. “If you set foot out of this car-” He pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index. Quietly muttering Korean expletives while you sit meekly, taking your scolding. “If you set foot out this car-”

“You're not my father, Minho,” he flinches. “I'm getting my uber-”

“Try it, see what happens.”

“Minho, goodnight.”

The last thing you expect to feel as your hand touches the car handle, is Minho’s larger hand covering your wrist in a calloused grip. His hand is firm, almost concrete and before you're able to process this, he's already dragging your face towards him.

“W-What the f-fuck, Minho, let me go!” the words come out mangled and squashed because Minho has his hands squishing your cheeks in an equally iron grip. Enough to have your teeth pushing against the inside of your cheeks. Enough to have tears stinging your eyes.

“Why the fuck do you never listen?” He whispers, almost to himself. As if he's completely forgotten about the girl, leaning over the centre console because he's squishing her cheeks for dear life. You anticipate the bruises. You can almost feel them coming on.

“It's like you purposely want to piss me off-”

Despite the aircon pouring warm hair to combat the Korean chill you feel very much icy all over. It's as if the chill has seeped into your very bones and it's not long until you're completely wracked in a series of violent shivers. You have never experienced anything like this.

Minho watches in apparent awe at the way your pupils, dark as they, dilate into even darker slits. His hand shifts silently from your cheeks, to your jaw, and lower until his hand is wrapping around your neck.

“Are you wearing panties right now?”

The question hurtles through your foggy brain like a runaway train until you're forced to bore your eyes into his, “What?”

“Which pair are you wearing right now?” He asks, despite the hand already drifting from your neck, all the way down your body. He swipes his hand against your slightly damp skin, prying your thighs apart with his hand as if it were nothing. “I wanna see which you were planning to have on for him,” he knew he wouldn't like, whatever the outcome may be, but he's only just begun this game and he's not ready to stop.

“Minho.” Your hand shoots out to cradle his bicep, which proves to be a deeply harrowing mistake for someone as inexperienced as you are because his arms are so firm, so taut. You instinctively find your thighs opening just a fraction wider, even as you say, “I don't think we should do this.” You begin oh so slowly. Hoping to convey with your eyes, that which you refused to say with your lips. “I want you to stop.” Minho is absolutely breathless at the sight of the stars sparkling in your dazed eyes.

He knows exactly what you want and he's damn well going to give it to you. An escape.

“I've never known a bigger slut than you, you know that?” So casual. So forward. His words nearly have you whimpering into the quiet air.

“I can see how badly you want this,” Never ever letting his gaze stray from your helpless expression, Minho pushes his hand further into the apex of your thighs and you wait. You wait with bated breath for the euphoria to trickle in by the cold tips of his fingers touching the lace of your underwear. “You want it so bad, don't you?”

“I-I- don't,” you force the words out with your hands unknowingly wrapping themselves around Minho's forearm. “This whole time, you knew,” he laughs dryly as he lets the pad of his fingers finally reach your clothed cunt. Your legs are trembling. “You fucking knew I wanted you and yet you still went on your little date anyways,”

That has you momentarily slipping out of your subspace, but before he lets that happen, he's rubbing slow circles against your cunt, with his right hand, a hand closest to the console, easier to reach the most intimate parts of you.

“didn't know, Minho,” the whimpers leaving your mouth are soft, so intimate, like the colour pink personified and it has Minho squeezing his eyes shut for all of a few tense seconds.

When his eyes flutter open again, the old Minho is nowhere to be found. Gone is the overly flirty best friend. Gone is the unnecessary jokester. Gone is the dry humour. The only thing in its place is a stone whisper of a smirk as he says, “Ride my hand.”

“W-What-”

“You don't talk,” he says, before sliding your panties to the side, “Useless little girls don't get to talk.” He says, racking a moan from straight out your throat as his hand presses against your drenched heat. “Useless little girls don't even get to speak.”

“Minho-”

“All you think about is getting to cum, right?” There's so much of a condescending nature in its tone, it almost has you instinctively tightening your grip on the forearm between your legs and pushing your heat against his fingers. The sight of you so worked up by his bad words have Minho cursing under his breath.

You're watching him as if he invented the stars, as if to say ‘What else’, and it drives him to complete madness.

“F-Fuck,”

“She knows how to say bad words,” he cackles as you squish your soaked cunt against his calloused palm. His knuckles are pressed firmly into the seat and his wrist is giving out but his horny brain fog is far too powerful.

“That's it, Petal,” he says, watching almost as if slipping into his own trance, “fuck my hand, I wanna see how bad you want it-”

“P-Please-” You whisper, “I need your cock-”

“You don’t get to make demands when you're being punished,” he mumbles, before leaning his head back against his seat, watching you desperately try to bring yourself to orgasm by rutting your hips against his hand. “Unless, you don't need my help and you'd rather just make yourself cum-”

“NO!” you keep a firm grip on his forearm, bottom lip quivering as you stare at him with wide eyes. “I'm s-so close, please.”

Minho can't help it. The very act of you asking him for something as sacred as an orgasm… It has him trying to adjust the bulge forming in his sweatpants.

“You're close, yeah?” He asks, now entering his own pleasure. He slips his left hand into his boxers while he watches you ride his hand.

“You’re close from humping that wet pussy against my hand?”

“Oh god, yes,”

“You’re such a good fucking girl you know that?” His breathing is heavy now because he's jerking himself off to the same pace as your cunt rubbing itself against his hand.

“You're such a good whore,” he whispers.

“Call me that again- p-please I’m gonna cum!”

“I've always wanted to treat you like the whore I know you are,” he whispers, watching as your eyes slip to the back of your skull, “I hated watching you go on those dates.”

“M-Minho-”

“Kill them,” he whispers silently, “I’ve fucking wanted to kill every single one of them.” he squeezes his cock, feeling his own ripples of pleasure shoot down your spine.

“Y-Yours,” you whisper, “I'm yours-”

“F-Fuck baby-” Sensing Minho slipping into his own prgasm, you grind your cunt harder against his hand. It doesn't take much for you to make a complete mess all over his seats. You're both wracked with a wave of shivers and Minho tries to keep his eyes open as he milks his cock for all it's got. He wants to watch your hips stutter. He wants to see how you look when you cum and he wants to commit it to memory.

He decides it's the most addictive thing he's ever seen.

“No fucking way you made me cum all over myself like some fuckcing teenager,” he grumbles, staring down at the mess he's made all over his shirt.

You're still a panting shivering mess and you yelp when Minho squeezes your sensitive, overstimulated clit.

“Hey,” he says, gaining your attention immediately, “No more dates yeah?”

You do nothing but nod.

<3

© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost

[chlmtsdoll]

omg i kinda need a fic of babysugar!reader getting corrupted by patrick alone bcs their tension is js amazing 😩 like yes pls tease her more when art and tashi is away…. god knows what happen

Loveddd writing that tension in nothing without you omg ur so right anon. What could happen when mean Patrick gets poor reader all alone ? Hmmm…

౨ৎ warnings: 18 + smut, p in v (unprotected sex), oral (m reviving), degradation kink, manipulation and heavy corruption, teasing, mentions of Art and Tashi throughout, short reader (size kink 🎀)

You begged Art and Tashi every day prior to the tennis awards ceremony to let you be their plus one for the night even if it was just once. You’d never got to get as pretty as you did for them to the outer public all too often, when you had really been just their own little secret for when the cameras were away and the couple was safe at home.

So you should of known better that you, their adorned little sugar baby, would be left alone for the night — but fortunately, with the keys to their estate in New Rochelle.

Having the place all to yourself was a apart of the allowance the couple gave you when they had to attend to press conferences or tournaments they had limited space to bring you along. And you never complained when the grounds of their beautiful mansion was left to you to do anything you wanted or absolutely nothing for however long they’d be gone.

And with the silence that coursed through the place — most girls your age with the privilege would throw parties or call up friends to fuck up the gorgeous abode. But not you. You’d stay put on the couch, being as pleasant as ever. Never making a mess, and only ever watching movies if you weren’t studying for upcoming midterms.

You were so good for Art and Tashi, so much to you’d almost forgotten the words of ‘left a little surprise for you on the guest bed.. just for when we get back.” Art mentioned to you with a dotting wink and smirk to what could be waiting for you before fixing his tie to run out with his wife. Even the thought of those little gestures of how they’d spoil you, come home to play with their perfect girl, seeing you all dolled up waiting for them at home made you flustered to your core even in the empty house.

You’d been ready to run upstairs just to see what it was Art had left for you — but that being just before there was a disturbance brought to the front door.

When you got up and tucked your feet into your slippers before minding to get it, you undid all the locks on the grand door. Letting the breeze in with a swing, your eyes went wide too quickly when the brunette with a menacing grin that stood beyond you looked up from his cracked phone to eye you down just outside the doorway.

Patrick stood in the cold of the night and you couldn’t have pushed to shut the door any faster.

“Hey, hey ! What the fuck is your problem.. ?” He spat as his hand rejected the way you attempted to shut him out without even a pitch, his grip beating yours on instant as he pushed the door open wide enough for him to invite himself inside aways.

You closed your eyes with a sigh of annoyance. One thing you did know is to avoid the daring man at all cost. Weather with Art and Tashi around, or when it was just the two of you — Patrick was a man of way too many words. Always teasing, picking on you like a sworn bully just because he could. Because it was amusing to him to try and snip on the pigtails of the pretty, much younger and energetic play thing his best friends kept around. And with you being just too full of admiration of the couple and anyone who was a friend of theirs — it just stained your poor little heart what the patronizing man put you through. To have to despise his presence.

“Why are you here ?” You spoke with furrowed eyebrows, voice timid and more serious as you tried to hide behind the front door, towering you, he made his way through the floor like he owned it, letting his denim jacket slip from his arms.

“What ? The couple leave you to color or whatever you do here alone ?” He scoffed, grin on his face mocking your fuzzy cardigan you kept on your shoulders to trying making you feel small for your shorter size as always. Although There was always an obvious flirtation to his teasing — the two sidedness of Patrick being mean as way to get girls just like you to do whatever he pleased always confused you. It was alarming. Like he’d want you to feel cornered and vulnerable so he could have his true way.

However he wanted.

“Awards ceremony. Why are you here?” You repeated yourself again and shutting the door with a lock, before you turned to face Patrick already making himself as comfortable as he pleased.

“For grown up stuff, baby doll. You wouldn’t get it.” He totally means trying to hang out with Art and Tashi, or bug them to hang out with him. “You really here by yourself?”

You nodded a bit and took in the darker haired man walking towards the living area. “Yes… and I don’t need a babysitter. They aren’t here so you’re welcomed to go.”

Patrick chuckled a bit as he looked down at you over his shoulder. “Do you ever relax ? I mean, fuck... Why don’t you.. sit with me. Keep company ? Just till they get back- - I know you don’t actually wanna be all alone, do you ?”

You folded your arms, tough pout forming on your lips. You just knew how this would go by now. How it always went.

Patrick would lure you an excuse just so he could try and have a go at what Art and Tashi got from you. Which was a complete different story the man who knew nothing of boundaries had no business being apart of. But it was just in Patricks nature to have what he couldn’t. The treat you are for them. Gorgeous and full of youthful energy after big games — Tashi had you give her husband the most dutiful back massage, an intimate time that would end up with you on your back some where in the echoing mansion, as the blonde got to fuck the purest moans out of you.

And all Patrick did was yearn for that use of you. It was what he devotedly wanted behind all his gimmicks. “No thanks.” You settled for with a moment of building courage to just say that to the man. You knew he’d have some words to spew back in defense regardless.

He chuckled. “Why so tense? A movie or two won’t hurt you.. or are you just scared I’ll bite?” You notice his hand along with his words, patting his thigh once he sat leaning against the cushioned seat to send a beacon call your way, and you just batted your eyes away.

“I have better things to do.”

“Bullshit. You just want to run off and what..?” His eyes scan your figure, he chuckled. “Touch yourself till Art and Tashi get back?” The man began and with a flustered heat rising to your face, you made a putrid expression of disgust before turning away from him without another word to say, your hair swung behind you as you muttered how ignorant the brunette was and he sat pleased with himself there in the living room behind you. Your ears couldn’t even endure anymore of his objectification. And you didn’t bother shooting a text to Art and Tashi that Patrick had stopped by for whatever reason because they’d surely be knee deep in talking with tabloids and press at this hour.

So, as a way to have as little interaction with the man as you could — you continued up the stairs to the near guest room where your small but lovely left gift from Art was waiting. With a little sideways smile returning to your expression, you shut the door softly behind you so the man downstairs didn’t bother. Your fingers laced through the silky bow holding it all together. This fabricated box you unraveled to reveal the new pretty edition to your wardrobe of wondrous pieces the couple spoiled you with.

A set of lingerie all dainty you were sure you’d be quite at home in for the next couple of days just for Art to toy with, only then sharing the way your heavenly hips would fit it with his wife.

Your grin spread at just the thought of their hands on you. Praising and cooing like the sheer temptress you were. A soft “oh.. you’re getting special treatment.” softly purred through your lips as you took in the lace garment and immediately shed off your comfy clothes.

You knew how much the couple valued their privacy and especially when it came to you. Their perfect little secret for behind all the cameras and sports media. Your body ? Their choice. It was part of the agreement you made when you came into their lives to be their after match sugar baby. And you did honor and respect that in every way — but as your painted finger tips taped against your phone in thought, it crossed your mind that a few pictures in the tiny panties couldn’t hurt if you kept them to yourself.

So in just a few moments you were on the bed. Only the light colored patches of fabric over your nipples covering you up, thong stretched thin across your ass and garter strap ruffling around your thigh felt nice and familiar. You felt your prettiest like this — dolled up and with the expectation to please the star couple whenever they got home.

You reached across the bed where you left your phone and that’s when you opened up your camera app. You let your body do the natural work it’s used to — posing for your own revealing string of teasing selfies. One’s you used to take for random guys before Tashi had you be ready for a face time at any moment while they were away and you couldn’t tag along, demanding you spread your legs and show her husband what he’d get to have after a grand slam. (If he made one) thanks to you he always did.

You were placing your phone at vigorous angels as you switched poses with a sugary smile being the only detail of your face in the photo. Too unfortunate your sweet doe eyes wouldn’t make the cut. You glide your fingers with pink painted tips innocently against your bottom lip as you turned your smile into a naughty little grin soon enough to the light of the camera. You couldn’t help but let your playfulness shine through, even in the set that was simply too tiny for a good reason.

You were having a bit of fun with yourself really. And your body is one to be confident in, feeling like the adorned little thing you were — that was until your phone was being dropped automatically the second you heard “holy shit” being croaked from the door frame.

Patrick was grinning like an idiot as he watched your now mortified expression turn bashful quick. You stashed yourself underneath a corner of the covers, “Patrick- what the hell !?” He’d already been laughing as he let himself fully in the bedroom while you’d been quietly cursing to yourself with a palm to your brow. Frustrated and guilty already, you avoided making eye contact with Patrick in preparation for the week you were about to have of him miking this to patronize you.

“So you were feeling naughty, huh ?” He chuckled and one of his hands go from his jean pocket to scratch against his untamed beard that framed his haughty smirk. He inched over to were you’d gone completely flustered beneath the comforter. “Get out. Just- please..” you huffed although your voice was only as fragile as it usually was around the brooding man, you dropped your head along with your expression in shame and he only grinned a little wider.

Patrick stared at you with that smile before he made a grab and snatched up your phone before you could even jump to stop him. “Let me just take a quick check of how pretty you look before they’re turned in to Tashi and Art.” his thumb casually scroll through your exposing photos as you yelped for him to quit it, and he only kept you at a distance much too easily from his taller height.

“Give it! Patrick! It’s not funny- -” you whined as you ran in circles around the brunette and attempted countlessly to leap for your phone, but Patrick laughed on as he held it up where you just couldn’t get your legs to reach.

“Fuck I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when they see their perfect little princess sneaking in nudes...”

You already had tears building in your ducts. You just knew that if Art and Tashi found out you weren’t faithful to their promises, being careless especially around such a careless man — and letting your spite lead your decisions of keeping what they gave you just between them. It could all be over in an instant. They couldn’t know what you’ve done. How poorly you acted without thinking.

You finally give up on your fight with Patrick that had really been you flailing arms at your phone as he tosses it between his hands so you couldn’t grab it. He messed with you like a toy. Patrick lived to play cat and mouse, and you’d fallen right into the trap.

“Patrick, please. Don’t do this… those pictures can’t be shown to anyone. I need my phone.” You sniff as you looked up at the dark haired man with watery eyes and he stiffed finally as did you. Course, tight grip of your phone in his larger hand. You watched as his green orbs now ran over your state — vulnerable in the pink lace that he was absolutely not supposed to be seeing you in right now.

Nearly every inch of your skin was on display, tits sitting too pretty, and the way the lines of the lingerie lined your hips, made the corners of his lips curve into a snarky grin.

You were asking him, just once, not to be an asshole.

And with a low tone, he was bound to respond like an asshole.

“I kinda like it when you beg.” The man was looking at you with eyes of the pure hunger and all you could do was close your own in defeat as you sighed.

“You really are afraid of them finding out, aren’t you?”

You nodded with your lip between your teeth. “They can’t.. you can’t tell them. This never happened, Pat. Please.”

You softly echoed again, throwing in calling him by half his name just to keep your chances sweet that he would eventually comply. The man chuckled as his eyes trailed off for just a fine moment before his expression got serious.

“So say I didn’t. If I didn’t… what’s in it for me?”

You swallowed hard. Bating your eyelashes in a moment of contemplation on what he could perhaps want from you. You hadn’t thought this far — and you didn’t have a clue.

“I- um- ..well- - what do you want?” You peered up at the man again, and this time, his stupid smirk had once again been making a comeback.

He eyed you. Your flower covered bra, with just a tiny bow in the middle. Then you again. Then of course, back down to where your smooth hidden cunt had been behind the fabric of your panties. Till his eyes finally land back on you again with a idiotic kind of smile.

You had to take a minute to wrap your head around it all. His wordless declaration until your eyebrows knitted with uproarious fear when it clicked.

“No.” You uttered.

“Well.. yeah.”

“No. Patrick… anything else- -” you pleaded as you began to sniff again and the man cut you off.

Patrick stepped a little closer to you, your pouty expression followed his gaze as you anxiously toyed with your hair and he slowly examined your frame again.

“You want these pictures to stay between you and me, right ? You don’t want your precious sugar mommy and daddy to find out about you slutting around the house when they’re away. It would make them so upset with you if they found out….” He made his tone sympathetic and only a little less poisonous, you nodded as you folded your arms timidly. “Then you’ll do what you have to do so they don’t know… yeah ?”

You nodded and listened up to his rant of your own mistakes. He caught you at a draw. The man’s green met your gaze even when he narrowed to read your doubtful head and wondering little eyes at how much you’d just been desperate to be seen as good for them. Tilting his head some, you stepped back as he stepped forward.

“I know what you want.” Patrick rose his hand to let a finger slide underneath the strap of your bra. Your wide eyes looked up at his dark curls to match his pupils. Tongue darted out to lick at his lips, he knew you’d innocently be oblivious to his hunger stride. All you could do was let him pull the strap down your shoulder just as slow as he talked.

“Good girls have to do what’s right for everyone. And I know your a good girl.” His voice grew softer, but lustful as he was now far beyond in your space.

You syncing up with his overall musk of pine scented cologne, cigarettes and numerous college girls he’d pick up in bars lingering off his sent.

You did know how dangerously he could lead, and you didn’t need to find yourself in any more trouble at last — yet something in the way the heat from his body had been melting into your senses, how his eyes made you feel like an intoxicated prey. And hands that were roaming your little figure that made you feel obligated to return in his favors.

You looked at Patrick as he leaned forward to your level only to whisper at your ear. You felt shivers like electricity from his next words.

“So get on your knees and be good for me.”

Patrick pulled away as he’d been close enough for his lips linger over your exposed skin, you trembled from just his teasing hands on your waist and voice too much for you to escape.

You eyed the floor where your feet landed, a little quiver in your throat — but a kind of lustrous flutter now taking over instead. And like that, you had been gradually lowering yourself down on both of your knees.

The man still standing above you showed his teeth with his next sideways grin, watching your hair spill back as you craned your neck to gaze up at him through your lashes.

“How do you want me?” You question, voice sweet as it always was while you’d been at such a naughty view for the brunette. He had chuckled with a little groan as he looked over your angelic grace in the garment you’d been in, all with eyes wide and not one thought behind them of knowing of all he harsh ways he could treat you.

“That set is- - something else on you, pretty girl… why don’t you suck my cock in it, hm?” with calculated intentions behind all his cooing, Patrick had already taking a swift of your hair into a nice ponytail and your eyes went trailing to the fly of his pants before you, hands shakily going to where they were intended.

You could feel the brunette’s hooded eyes on you as you began unzipping the fly, fingers tug at the hem of his boxers like you’d been too scared to touch, not ready for what’s beneath. “C’mon, don’t be shy..” his tone almost haunting. He knew he’d had you practically on strings and you did comply, taking them down just enough so his cock had been on display, hard and getting harder by the second, you stared — a little whimper escaped your tightening throat at the way his tip rose with the width of your eyes.

You glance up at Patrick’s face again, diplomat expression taking over suddenly. “You swear… none of it leaves this room?”

The man scanned the door way briefly before returning your gaze with a prideful smile. “It dies at the door.”

You breathed deeply before your hands were bracing the back of Patrick’s thighs. Knees with no cushion, already pained from the floor boards — the smooth skin of your lips were being pressed to Patrick’s thick member, leaving just one kitten lick on his reddened tip before your mouth was full of it. The brunette watched you with lips agape as he slipped your phone into his back pocket and used his other to swoop up your loose locks.

Your mouth had hallowed on his cock as you began sucking on him with as much as you could take — with how full he’d been in you orally, light moans echoing in your throat, his tip hit the back of you and Patrick cursed. “That’s it, baby doll. Nice and slow,” he watched as your lips ran up and down his foreskin, coating him in your saliva as you whimpered through your wet sucking.

Your head bobbed on him, and the man let out low groans of his own as his head let back at your heavenly warmth around him. As you looked up at him, the way he reacted to your work was enough for you to think just when you thought you’d distracted him with your pleasures, your fingers were gliding from his thighs to his back pocket. Reaching for where he stuck your phone, but your wrist was abruptly stopped and the man made a ‘tskk’ sound as he removed your hand. “Nice try angel.. I wouldn’t do that again.” He muttered before taking matters into his own hands and pumping his cock down you throat at a rougher pace. You whined helplessly and adjusted yourself so you’d sat on your own feet beneath him.

Patrick had let out a deep moan as he fucked into your more than perfect little mouth that was stuttering on just how much you needed him to keep your dirty secrets. And you, all wanting nothing to do with him earlier — now had tears streaming down your face as you whimpered and gagged on his cock. Stroke after stroke had your finger nails digging into the man’s jeans, his eyebrows hitched with his breath as he observe your teary eyes and wide mouth taking him,

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.. you’re gonna make me cum.” The man grunted as you moaned and he pulled you off his dick with a knotted grip on your hair just in time as you coughed vigorously.

Wiping your puffy lips with a sniffle and eyes welled up with tears as you narrowed with a cry, Patrick grinned while he’d already been jerking his cock, “you’re doing so well for me. Now open up..” his voice husked as he pumped his throbbing cock through his orgasm, letting his tip rest on your tongue the second your mouth was wide enough to let ropes of his cum spill on to.

You didn’t feel the cleanliness, and maybe that didn’t matter, because as Patrick had been cooing praises to you while he released on your tongue, you soon realized you’d been sitting with a wet puddle of your own.

“You know, while we’re at it, I can help with that..” Patrick nodded at the way you checked yourself and your neck craned to look up at him again when you heard his voice.

“But- - Patrick, we shouldn’t.”

“The damage is already done weather you like it or not, baby doll. You can get a little fun out of this if you let yourself.”

You didn’t exactly know how to respond, with what you’d already done being far beyond a bargain but a total price to pay especially since Patrick used his power over you at best. And with the dark haired man standing there only halfway putting his ravishingly large dick away beyond you — just sitting there on the floor, nervously toying with your fingers with a ache sitting in your core. You knew that since you’d been there, letting Patrick make you cum was all you could think about now.

His smirk returned when you rose to your feet and eyed him before walking back over to the bed.

“Okay.” You uttered quietly as it was now your back turned to the taller man who followed you over like a shadow, and you knew to surrender by now.

“God you look good..” his hands examined wherever they pleased on you now. Patrick’s fingers slid from the top of your breasts to the dip of your lower back to your ass, that he squeezed tight, making a hiss escape from you. And even though you hit him in the arm and it left no damage as he grinned to himself, you still let him do it.

Maybe you were acting quite slutty.

“You said you would help me, not grope me…” you spoke up in a voice that made the man laugh at your ought to be stern.

“Well, firstly I think sweet girls like you should say please.” He beckoned as his tongue darts out to lick over his lip while he panned down at you. It may be a signal to the way his cock was beginning to stand again at the sight of your breast near getting lose within your bra from the aftermath of the way he just manhandled you.

Your eyes shift anywhere elsewhere than his gaze. “Please.”

“Please.. what ?” His hands wrapped around your neck to pull you close, and you yelped a tad, he chuckled at your annoyance, but enticing want towards him.

You looked into the mans daring eyes and going against your own rules, in desperate fashion, you begged. “Please.. make me cum, Pat.”

Patrick glanced where your panties had a darkened spot spreading, damp as he grinned before letting his hand slip beneath so he could feel the soaked parts — you immediately gasped softly as you watched where he toyed with your slit to find your folds. It was like he found where you needed most as if he’d been a pro. Observing as your lips make a fine “o” shape when his pointer and middle slid against your clit and your poor heavy eyes met his again.

“I know you loved having my cock down your throat.” He rasped with a sly smirk, you quickly grabbed his bicep. One of his fingers made it inside of you, feeling him fill you with just his thick digits had your eyes wanting to role and you hissed out a whimper immediately. But fuck that. Patrick already wanted you moaning as quick as possible.

He pushed your figure on the bed and you hit the sheets with a noise as the man hustled to get your last bit of cover up discarded. You noticed the way his cock bounced as soon as he saw your smooth cunt be revealed to him and your eyebrows furrowed when your ache grew, moaning slightly through your bitten lip.

“Patrick, please.. hurry.”

He took your legs under his grip rough as the flailed and he made sure they were as far apart as he needed to handle you, “keep these spread for me.” Was all the man said before aligning himself with your entrance and making sure your slick had covered his tip finely.

You whined as you viewed him do the work of getting himself coated with your pre-cum. Patrick couldn’t take his eyes off your pussy that just looked a little too pretty and smooth, you could tell his head was going full with need to fuck you senseless. So when he started to slide in your hole with a jarring “fuck” coming from him and you moaned out a more high pitched noise with knitted brows — you kept your hands on the back of your thighs for the brunette as he only gets halfway before he needed to readjust you and himself.

“Mmm.. you’re too big, Patrick.” Came from you as your chest slightly heaved and the brunette had a dumb grin on his face again while he looked down at how sweet you looked all spread out for him, letting him get your tight cunt after all of this. By now you’d surely forgotten about your little photos and just how much he could ruin what was between your legs at this point.

Patrick was thrusting into you with no hesitation, letting his grunts fill the room on top of your pathetic mewls as he kept your hips steady and against the thigh while you slid up and down his dick. Your hands dig into the bedsheets near your head as your lips go fully agape and your eyes are being pulled elsewhere with the euphoric sensation of Patrick’s hips slapping into your cervix, “Oh ! Oh… fuck,” you hiss as you can’t help yourself but watch the man’s shaft run against your wet walls when he grabbed hold of your wrists.

And with a impressed grin, Patrick saw your fixed gaze go from totally oblivious to just wanting to be tossed around like a whore for him.

“You gonna let Art and Tashi know how much of a good girl you were for me when they get home, right ? No issues. Just you doing whatever your told… right sweet girl ?” The man coo’d as he let up one hand from your arms to cup your chin. When your eyes met his dark ones, you’d been holding a dazed smile behind your bitten lip with a plea for him to keep going.

As he’d taken your little photoshoot to ending up deep inside your precious cunt with a few tactics of his own, your photos count on staying between you and him.

With a small nod and “uh hu” you let Patrick make you cum.