#he's mere existence is a tease

[saraminia]

I just feel that we as a fandom moved on too fast from these pictures...

[teeskzagain]

˚‧‿₊୨୧₊You're Such A Brat₊ ˚‧୧₊︵‧ ˚ ₊

» pairing: arrogant!sunghoon x bratty!reader

» summary: since high school, park sunghoon has been the absolute bane of your existence. you’ve always viewed him as a stuck-up snob, and he has always seen you as a whiny brat. you aren’t sure why your mother still thinks of you two as friends, you can hardly stand being in the same room as each other. while at home from college one night, your mother surprises you with news of a work event she and mrs. park will be attending. the catcher? mrs. park’s nightmare of a son is going to be forced to spend the evening at your house…..

» warnings: college au, lots of arguments (both are toxic af), lowkey manipulative on both ends?? t e n s i o n, one scene depicting choking, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP), extremely rough sex, enemies….to…?, lil unserious in the beginning, reader and sunghoon genuinely detest one another (but isn’t that the best😫) mean!dom sunghoon, bratty!sub y/n, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), degrading kink, teasing, heavy/aggressive make-outs, breasts play, masturbation (f. - reader masturbates to fake scenario), humiliation kink, dirty talk, reader used to be affiliated with p.sh, orgasm denial + fingering, ass + pussy slapping, slight mentions of lee heeseung & sim jake...

» w.c: 11.5k (no wonder why it took forever!)

» a/n: would like to apologize for the delay!! but, it's finally here. please let me know if i should do more enha works.

» taglist: @indigoez @jakeswifez @aanniikkaa @slut4hee @heeknow @rairaiblog-blog @no1likeneo @d-dilemma @soobingf-blog @shuaxzcake @mingyuslice @heelovesmeknot @mitmit01 @hpnsfwaddict @jooniesbears-blog @pasteltheghost16 @goodforgyu @sunghoonsbigcoketip

"Why do you have to leave?" With a droopy face, you annoyingly complain- yet again -to your mom about her rude decision of abandoning you.

She rolls eyes- yet again -at your antics and continues to put up the last bits of groceries, "It's a simple work event, Y/N. I'm not sure why you're being so stubborn right now. Plus, you used to love when Sunghoon and his mother came over."

You shudder at the mere mention of his name, "That was before he became such a stuck up fucking prick-"

That line earns yourself a disapproving, 'Y/N!' and in turn you retract your statement with a couple of half-assed, 'sorry, sorry'.

Though, in your head, you knew you held back from saying worse things.

Your mother sighs deeply as she finishes shoving the last few items into the fridge before spinning around to face you, "I'm not asking a lot from you, just entertain the boy or something while we're out. Is that really too difficult?"

She lets her question hang in the air for a second, then proceeds to move from the kitchen to the living room. However, if she thought she could escape you, she would be dead wrong. Because you're not far from her in step.

"Okay, new question." You propose which earns another groan from Mom. You stop in place when she leans over to dust the couch off with her hands, " Since you and Mrs. Park are carpooling to the event, I understand why she's coming here. But does he really have to come too? Why can't he just stay at his own damn-.....d-dang, house?"

When she straightens herself out, she bears a look of plead in hopes that this is truly the last of your inquiries, "His mother is the one who suggested it. And if we're being truthful, you and Sunghoon used to be so......" she pauses, looking for the right word, "....so cute when the two of you were close."

A hand flies to your mouth as you internally gag at your mother's words. Cute? Maybe 10 years ago, when you both were still in elementary. But that was before he had the chance to grow into his unbearably horrid of a personality.

Granted, you partly blamed his high school friend group for his abominable transformation. While, yes, you did agree that Sunghoon just naturally held the asshole gene, you were also certain that hanging around and slinging dicks with stupid Sim Jake and stupid Lee Heeseung, surely wasn't going to help this fact either.

Disgusting pricks. All of them.

You lower your hand slowly, "Please don't remind me of that time."

"For the love of-" She excuses herself from your vicinity and struts back into the kitchen, "Honey, I don't understand how you could be acting like this. I thought once you two went off to university together, things would be different by this point."

Oh. It's different alright.

Instead of the harsher stares he used to simply give in high school, Sunghoon has upgraded his abrasiveness to terrible comments directed towards your character. Any chance possible, the two of you would butt heads even more than your previous encounters. On campus, in passing, at parties; if you saw him anywhere, you just knew something would be said.

On top of that, it also doesn't help that his buffoon bunch of friends followed him to the same college as you. And, you had to see them everywhere.

You figured once you came home, you could enjoy a week of internal peace. Free from the many stressors that come with university. Now, your mother seems to disregard any of your warnings and wants to let the main stressor inside of your house?

"Can I add as well," she speaks up in the absence of your voice- you had been too busy pouting- "I know the two of you share the same English class, and according to his mother, he's been excelling at his papers."

At the insinuation, your mouth drops agape, however, she disregards the reaction and continues on, "You can ask for some pointers from him."

"Absolutely not." There was no way that could've been an option. Firstly, you would never hear the end of it from Sunghoon: ‘Oh, you want help from me? I didn’t realize you were so awful at this,’ and then it probably would’ve been followed up with, ‘Well, I can’t say I’m too surprised. You’re not the…brightest person I’ve met.’

Annoying bastard.

He would never let you live that down, and frankly, you didn't want to give him anymore ammo to shoot you in the face with. Henceforth, that couldn’t be an option. Not if you wanted to keep your sanity.

Your mother regards you intently, and slowly begins to shake her head. She couldn't do it anymore, didn't know what more to say; a wall has clearly been put up and you are as strong as steel, not letting anything through. As she's left puzzled on how to refute your statement, a ping from her phone catches her eye briefly.

She casts her gaze downwards, keeps it there for a few seconds, and then she's looking back up at your contorted face.

"Well, sweetie,” a strained smile begins to spread, “You should probably fix that attitude of yours. They just got here." The doorbell ringing acts as a nail in the coffin, confirming your mother's words.

“You’ve got to be-”

She interrupts your complaining to tell you to get the door, so she can run upstairs and grab her purse. You're quick to bellow out a groan, but she's even quicker to shut that down, and instructs you to do it immediately while half-way up the staircase.

Once she disappears, you amble sluggishly towards the front, and as you're about ready to swing it open; a long, harsh breath is exhaled from the other side followed by a grumble.

"You better be nice to her or I swear Sunghoon...."

It's Mrs. Park, who's voice seemed to have a combination of both sincerity and aggression laced in it. Your eyebrows furrow, listening harder.

"Yeah, yeah. Be nice to the brat, I heard you the first 4 other times." He finishes with his own irritated huff.

Your expression goes wide at that. Is he fucking serious? Did he really just call you a brat? You. A brat? You're mind relishes in disbelief.

"Sunghoon!" His mother responds with, and more indistinct talking arose. However, while their voices grew quieter your annoyed levels skyrocketed. You begin to think that it's quite plausible….someone might die tonight.

"Y/N! Did you grab the door yet?" Your mom yells from her bedroom.

You do a double-take as you match her volume, "I'm doing it right now!"

Unbolting the locks, you pull back the piece of wood to reveal a very eager Mrs. Park, staring at you with smiley eyes. Sweeping your gaze right, there stood the ever straight-faced and stoic Park Sunghoon.

Even as you do a once over at his appearance- black hair fringed on his forehead, hands shoved into his long, sleek coat, and black sweats that barely poke out from underneath -you find it so, incredibly jarring that this came out of the always cheery Mrs. Park.

He didn't even try to smile, unlike you who beamed out a grin towards them, "Hello Mrs. Park! It's been so long since I last seen you.”

Dissimilar to her son, Mrs. Park is ready to envelope you into a warm hug. She extends her arms out and the two of you intertwine in a genuine and comforting embrace.

"Oh! Y/N! It truly has been a while," when she draws back, you watch her scan your face with an affectionate smile, "You just get more and more beautiful every time I see you." At the last second, she peeps over towards her son for encouragement, "Right, Hoonie? Doesn't she look lovely?"

His impassive eyes regard his mother, then ever so leisurely does he drag them onto your stature. The moment eye contact is made, you shift anxiously. Because why the hell is he looking at you like that?

You start to play with the hem of your oversized hoodie, which flowed nicely into your oversized sweatpants. Anyone with eyes could tell you’re not dressed for company. Hair messy from laying around, hardly any make-up on.

Clearly, you weren’t expecting anyone today. Nonetheless, someone who took so much pride in his appearance. You almost felt jealously from it. Like he’s somehow proving the point that he’s better in almost every way- clothing included. It’s infuriating.

With a single look up and down, Sunghoon cocks his head slightly before giving his answer, "No."

Intense bickering between mother and son start up, and you're left standing with a twitching eye of vexation as already you sense your patience running thin. Your fingers curl inwards to form a fist. It hasn’t even been 30 seconds and you feel like punching him.

"I am so sorry about him, Y/N. I don't- I don't know what his problem is..." She stops midway to address another mumble from the boy. The two have a minor quarrel this time, and then she’s back to focusing on you, ".....ah, may we come in?"

It takes your full strength to squeak out an, 'absolutely', despite your innate feelings. With a step back, you widen the door to appear more welcoming and the two of them step inside of your house.

Mrs. Park instantly calls out to your mother, with her shouting back at Mrs. Park, and when it's Sunghoon's turn to walk past, you couldn't help but notice the somewhat aggressive breeze he emits as he pushes through you.

A part of you could’ve sworn you also heard him mutter something in passing, but regardless, you decide to let that go instead of calling him out. Taking in a deep breath and exhaling, you hope to soothe the ever growing nerves that’s been caused so far.

Remember, self-control. Right, that is a thing and you are more than capable of exhibiting it. So, keep your cool. Try not to blow up. At the very least, if not for yourself, then for the sake of both your mother and Mrs. Park.

Yes, for them. You can do this for them. Just simply don’t engage and all will be well.

You repeat this to yourself a few more times as you close the door. All will be well if you let it be. Now feeling better, you flip around to see your mom make a descent back down into the living room, a purse now dangling from the crevice of her elbow.

She sashays up to Sunghoon’s mother, and the two women squeal in delight as they engulf one another. It’s admirable how much they care for each other, proving why they became such good coworkers then friends. You also find it adorable how similar their outfit choices are, with both of them sporting a dark blue dress.

Once they part, your mother turns her attention over towards the previously brooding boy. Though, you find it interesting how Sunghoon seems to have an easier expression now.

"Sunghoon, you're too tall! How am I supposed to reach you?" She gushes while brining him in for hug. A light chuckle dances out of him, and after a brief second they're pulling back from one another. Mrs. Park jumps in on the conversation about her son.

They begin to go on and on about all of his accomplishments; 'Oh! Sunghoon I heard you're doing excellent in your courses,' and, 'You are so involved with the community, it’s wonderful to see that someone’s trying.’ It’s sickening to see the immediate chokehold he has on the women, you observing the conversation emotionlessly.

After their near 20 minute rant (or what felt like it) finally your mother remembers your presence and decides to rope you in. She ushers you to come closer, and after a hasty back and forth, you scoot only mere inches into the circle, closer to him.

"You've been scoring well on your essays, Sunghoon, isn't that right?" Your mom starts and you want to scream right then and there.

He affirms her question with a swift nod, "Yes. I have."

"I don't think he's gotten below a 91 on his papers." Mrs. Park chimes in, and you secretly curse your mother for where this topic is about to go.

Your mom's eyes brighten as she looks over to Sunghoon, "That's amazing to hear. Actually, I think Y/N could use some tips on a few of her past works. She's been getting marked off on nearly every single one of them and could use the help!"

He hums in amusement, raking his eyes until they rest on your scowl. You feel his stare on you as you cross your arms and side step away from him, "Was that necessary to bring up?”

"Oh," your mother waves a dismissive hand, "Nonsense, sweetie. I'm sure a few pointers from this one will help raise that C- you have."

"Mom!"

Before you could object any further, a gasp leaves Mrs. Park's mouth and quickly she’s pulling your mother off to the side. She just remembered some news from work. While the two women chat, you’re left to stand idly, eyes darting off to the side while a wave of quietness engulfs the air. Sunghoon remains silent, as well.

You sure as hell hadn’t planned on talking to him and if that meant silence would be bestowed, then so be it. It’s for the better, anyways. You’re trying a new approach at things, and if you're forced to converse with him, you’re afraid it’ll lead to someone getting choked out. Not you, by the way. So…to avoid conflict, silence it is.

A short sigh from Sunghoon interrupts your thinking. You do a quick glance up at the..irritatingly tall boy, and see his gaze is turned all the way left, side-profile on display for you. He must’ve picked up on your hostility, which is why he has not said anything, you believe. Good. He should know better than to get you riled-

“You have a C- in that class? Are you serious?”

Perplexed, you raise your eyebrows from the sudden outburst, “Excuse me?”

Is he really trying to start this right now?

He keeps his head faced away from you, then at the last second he twists it back and you see a new expression dawns on him. That of complete arrogance, “English Literature is a stupid easy class. I’m surprised to hear you’re doing poorly.”

As you open your mouth to shut up him, he proceeds further with his berating, “Then again,” he lets out a dry laugh, “I guess I shouldn’t be so shocked that you need me. You’ve always fell short when it came to academics.”

Sunghoon watches your face morph into pure anger, and as sick as it may be for him to admit it, this is where he finds true enjoyment. In the reactions you always give in the moments you feel wronged.

You do a short shuffle as you feel yourself releasing the chains of self-control. You knew he would act this way. He always does.

“Okay, so I’m not doing well,” you state matter-of-factly, ���So. Fucking. What? I’d rather have a shitty grade in this class than beg some snobby prick for aid.”

You tried to hold back.

At the sudden drop of name calling, a bitter grin erupts onto his lips, “Like you deserve my help.”

“For the record, I never asked for it,” you throw a hand up as new found confidence starts to build up in your core, “But trust me. If I really needed you, then I would make you fucking help me.”

His eyes widen from your accusation, “You really think I would tend to you? Knowing your unruly attitude?” Disbelief switches onto his face, his thick eyebrows creasing together uncomfortably, “God. You’re such a brat.”

And just like that, you hit a snapping point. Without wasting another second, you begin to hurl every insult in the book his way, your rage boiling past whatever containment you thought you had. He’s ready to argue back at you when a light shriek stops both of you mid sentence.

"Oh, we need to get a move on it. I didn’t even realize the time. It’s about to be 7.” Your mother comments and you almost retort it with a snide remark on how inquisitive she's been about Sunghoon's life.

Mrs. Park trots her way towards the door, saying her final goodbye to her son along the way. Your mother shares her own words of departure, though it's mixed with your protest on her leaving.

"Alright kiddos, we'll try not to be too long." She speaks with one foot out the door, "Y/N, please treat our guest kindly."

You give the boy, who's now walked up and standing to the side of you, a deathly glower, "Get him the fu-"

"Y/N. Kindly, please." She reiterates with a sweet bite, and to that you could only sigh defeatedly.

Mrs. Park is not far behind your mother as she twists to address Sunghoon one last time, "Honey, please be-"

"Be nice, I know." He finishes in a sort of annoyed tone. Though after that, being nice is the last thing she would need to worry about.

With more reassurance, the two women give each other a passing glance, and soon after another round of goodbyes, the door closes shut.

Leaving you trapped here with your absolute nightmare.

With a deep groan, you stagnantly turn towards Sunghoon just as he’s twisting his body to reluctantly face you. Peering up through your eyelashes, you make absolutely sure he feels the unwelcomed signals radiating off of you as you go to speak.

"Stay the fuck away from me."

His eyes roll nearly out of their sockets as he starts to slip off his coat, "What happened to being kind to your guests?"

He mocks the words that were handed to you, and your eyes narrow while watching him hang the jacket on a nearby rack.

You notice his shirt of choice- now on display -is a tight black T-Shirt, curving and outlining all of the spots you hate the most about him. God, you think you just got even more annoyed.

Turning your nose upwards, you start to inch closer towards the staircase, "I couldn't care less about that, if I'm being completely honest." You do a full twirl so all Sunghoon can see is your back, "Here’s what you can do: either entertain yourself in the living room or get the fuck out. Choose whatever you want as long as it doesn’t involve me.”

He goes tight-lipped. You are just the epitome of an ungrateful little brat, holy fuck. Sunghoon shoots his vision away with a brief head shake. Despite his growing emotions, he knows it will be better to not engage. He really didn’t feel like fighting with you right now. Like how you both always manage to do.

Clearing his throat, Sunghoon begins to walk slowly towards the couch, his upper muscles flexing with every step, "Whatever. I'm not dealing with you tonight."

That makes you halt in your tracks. Dealing with you? What? Like you're some untrained puppy?

"No, I'm not dealing with you tonight,” you sneer back then scoff, retreating upstairs once again, “Just fucking stay down here and we won’t have any more problems.”

His back hits the couch cushion with a flop as he starts to call out to you, “Right. It’s not like the problem isn't taking itself upstairs at the moment!"

Oh, that touched a nerve. So much so that you find yourself shouting from the second story, having made it up there a few seconds prior, “You should’ve just stayed at your own fucking house!”

"Do you ever stop fucking talking?” He raises his voice back at you; maybe not quite to the extent of your screaming, but nonetheless you could hear him from upstairs.

Upon entering your room, you slam the door shut with all your might. You swear you even felt the floor shake from the force. Pissed doesn’t even begin to describe your emotions currently. You’re at a whole new level.

You're fuming. Chest huffing, fists clenched, ooh- you've never met someone who irked as badly as fucking Park Sunghoon had.

Why? Why? Why did he have to be in your home right now? Why did your mother think this was a good idea? And why did he have to look so nice with his stupid shirt and black joggers?

You begin to pace around your room.

He's messing with you, clouding your head with complex thoughts. If there's one thing you loathed most about the boy downstairs it's his ability to turn your brain to mush.

It's like all thoughts and rationality fly out of the window, and instead is replaced with....just nothing. Nothing but anger, resentment, and a tiny bit of something else however you're willing to suppress that for the time being.

You bring a thumb up to stroke your lip. Mind racing, your brain starts to piece together what you should do to alleviate this stress. You're going crazy, you recognized that, and you’re certain a distraction is needed for you to get your thoughts cleared.

As you think back to all that has you feeling so jumbled, a sudden surge runs throughout your core. No. You know what your body is attempting to do. And it’s not going to work. Even as another hits you and makes your thighs clench unwillingly, you hold on to your determination.

You can’t do it, you tell yourself. Especially when Sunghoon’s downstairs. It’s ridiculous. Unfathomable. There is no way you would…..

Moments later, you find yourself completely and utterly naked in your bed, deciding the best way to calm down is by having a….release. Your pulses started became too unbearable to ignore, leaving you with only one option. This option.

Is it the most convenient method of stress relieving? Well, probably not. But, truly, in times where you’re free to strip bare and dish out a quickie, you always find it leaves your mind feeling blissful.

And you desperately need that right now, because in all honesty, you aren’t sure what the hell you’re feeling right now due to Sunghoon.

As your brain is beginning to wonder, you absentmindedly brush the backs of your fingers against your lower stomach. Park Sunghoon. The name is like poison in your head, and you can’t find the damn cure for some reason.

Your hand drops a little lower. Thinking back on your most recent argument, you remember the eye contact you two held, before forcing yourself to break free from his gaze. You tilt your head, the memory becoming even more clear. That damn gaze.

…..if only he could use it from a different angle.

A sharp exhale flies out of your mouth as you realize you’ve made contact with your clit. You’re lighting swarming around the area while it continues to throb enticingly. A different angle? Like….one where he’s in between your legs, staring at you with those stupid fucking know-it-all eyes.

Your body responds well to that imagination, your hips slightly bucking into your hand to garner some friction. Would you two be on the bed? No, you think you like the idea of getting him on his damn knees and making him eat you out nice and slowly while on floor…a whole lot better.

He’d tried to take control, you already know his arrogant ass would. Yet, in reality, you will be the one calling the shots. If he starts to suck a little too much for your likings, one hair tug and he’ll slow down. Cause he’ll listen to you, you’ll make sure of it.

A small smile cracks out onto your face, focusing deeply on your sprouting pleasure. Yeah, you like the Park Sunghoon in your imagination a lot better than the one real life. Your fingers are now circling the bud, producing ripples of sensation that keeps your movements and thoughts going.

He’ll keep his attention fixed on you the whole time he’s devouring you, you assume. Because if there’s one thing about Sunghoon, he’ll love to see you come undone at the cause of him. Would love to see that sexy ass face you make right before you orgasm.

And the way your thighs will squeeze around his cheeks so perfectly, oh fuck him. He’d get so fucking horny from just tasting your sweet, sweet pussy.

Shutting your eyes, your vision explodes with images of your lewd thoughts, playing out your ideal fantasy. You can hear yourself start to whimper while your pelvis becomes more sporadic in the way it chases the coming feeling.

At the minute you tell him you’re close, he’d latch onto your clit, no plan on stopping. Scratch that, he probably couldn’t stop himself from finishing you out. You’ve been treating him so well up until this point. Letting him cum inside you, in your mouth; the least he could do is give you a head-splitting orgasm.

You rub your soaking cunt all over the palm of your hand, desperation coursing through your veins. Imagine annoying little Sunghoon, who’s only wish is for you to cum. To cum all over his face, down his own throat. He’s on his knees below you because he wants the full effect of seeing how much you’re letting yourself go from his tongue.

Then, with one long sucking motion, you’d fall apart. With your orgasm hitting you dead on your clit, you’d start to quiver on top of him while screaming out, ‘So fucking good, So fucking good. Fuck, you’re making me cum.’

Your hand speeds up to have you cumming alongside your scenario, your own real orgasm washing over you deliciously. It leaves your body stuttering and eyes rolling back into your head as you continue to work at your pussy during the duration. And all you could think about was how much you fucking hated stupid Park Sunghoon.

Once your high comes down, you firstly lay in your bed to recover. That had to have been one of your best and strongest impromptu session. Fuck, did you enjoy every part of it.

True to nature, as well, your mind is so foggy from the haze that you can’t even recall your earlier fury, which is now replaced with a more simple feeling: lust. You bask in the warmness that’s spreading and also give your cunt a chance to get desensitized, before swinging your legs off of the bed and walking over to your dresser.

It was starting to get hot with your thick layers on anyways, which is why you opt for thinner clothes. You pull out a pair of cotton shorts that stop upper thigh on you, and then a cropped T-shirt for simple comfort.

Needing to wash your hands quickly, you swiftly run into the connected bathroom to your room, lather your hands in soap and soon you’re rinsing yourself off. When finished with that, you smile contently as you walk back to your bedroom and flop down stomach first onto the mattress.

You really did feel better. Your anger has subsided by now, the orgasm keeps your mind still a bit dizzy, there were no complaints to be had. Now, you planned on spending the rest of your evening locked up in here so you can continue feeling as such. Boom, simple as that.

A loud buzz from your phone on the nightstand has you scrambling to reach it, that giddy feeling not once leaving. Though, once you flip it over to reveal a text from your mother, you feel your smile drop immediately.

8:09 PM

Mom:

Hey sweetie, just wanted to do a quick check-in on the two of you. I hope everything's going okay.

You begin to type out a borderline aggressive message back, something along the lines of how everything was not going okay, but another message swooshes in before you could even finish your own.

After doing some rethinking, you don’t need to ask Sunghoonie for help anymore. It wasn’t fair of me to put you in that position without asking you first. You’re old enough to make your own decisions now, and if you think you’ll be okay without asking him for help, then you can decide that. I’m sorry for making you feel as if you never had a choice.

You stop your rant midway, and look closer at the message. Oh. Oh. Oh….

“Mom…” With a frown, you watch as yet another message flies across your screen, and you find that you’re a bit more accepting of this one.

8:14 PM

Mom:

But, I do want to make sure that you are trying with Sunghoon. I understand as of right now, it may be difficult to do so, you two are apparently quite hostile. However, I’m asking if you can extend the white flag, at least for tonight. Make sure he’s not hungry, maybe you two can put on a movie downstairs. Just try and be cordial, that’s my only request. Can you do that?

Stomach churning, you begin to gnaw on your bottom lip right now, those complex emotions rising up again. Dammit. You seriously thought nothing more would come out of this situation tonight. You thought once you had your….release, you would be able to relax freely without any stressors.

But then you reread her latest text, and guilt surfaces in your heart. Maybe…you haven’t been putting in as much effort as you could have; you did just leave the boy downstairs to fend for himself. Is it possible for you to set your very, very strong feelings and just…suck it up for the sake of your mother?

You were accepting of this feat earlier.

A quick scroll up has you revisiting the first large paragraph she sent you, the one that acknowledges your feelings. Your mother is trying right now, and you register that it would be unfair of you to not try as well.

8:20 PM

Y/N:

okay mom, i can do that for you.

You're downstairs before you know it. After many, many, many mental preparations, you now feel ready to be within the same space as the devi- Park Sunghoon.

Approaching your living room, the pale yellow lighting illuminates Sunghoon's backside, giving you a clear view of him. With one defined arm stretched out on top of the cushion, Sunghoon seems entranced with the movie playing on T.V, not appearing to have noticed your presence.

You shuffle your feet against the floor until you slow to a halt. In the span of your waiting, not once does he turn around. The movie must be drowning out your existence. Pivoting, you opt to round out the couch and stand in the middle for visibility. Sunghoon keeps his eyes trained forward. Surely, he feels your presence now, even if he may not be acknowledge it.

Sticking your hip, you gently clear your throat, "Ahem."

He throws a cruel glare over his shoulder before reverting back to his previous position, no comment to be left from him. You're standing still, okay then...

You dart your eyes away to view something else, then sweep them back over to his body, “Are you…hungry?”

A look of bewilderment dawns on his face as he shoots you a perplexed look, “Why are you asking me that? Wouldn’t you rather have me starve?”

“I-” you try to rebuttal his claim, but incriminatingly you start to avoid eye contact with him, “No. Not necessarily…”

Yeah-fucking-right. He highly doubts that's true. Instead of replying, Sunghoon turns back towards the television. Silence remains. You follow his eyesight to watch a couple of seconds of the movie. Well, so much for trying.

You continue to stand awkwardly, wrapping your arms around your torso and rocking yourself back and forth slightly. Just try. Just try. Just. Try.

"Park Sunghoon." You mumble out and he snaps his attention towards you. If not for your eyes lurching up to look at the ceiling, then maybe you would have noticed the surprise once over he does to your outfit.

“What?”

You look down again, and try to shake the embarrassment that’s clawing at you. Just try, “C-Can I watch this with you?” Holy fuck that felt harder to say.

Sunghoon squints his eyes as he tries really hard to figure out what the hell is your deal. Merely an hour ago, the two of you were having a screaming match, and now you’re fidgeting and asking to be in the same room as him….willingly?

He doesn’t buy that for a second.

He drags his pupils up and down your frame, his greedy eyes wanting to drink in more of it, but at the realization of what he was doing, he forces himself to look away. Willingly? Yeah, no. He figures your mother would be the cause for this. Only reason he says this: his own mom sent a text not too long ago telling him to try harder with you. And…it appears you are at least doing something.

With a rough sigh, Sunghoon decides to not say anything else, but rather signals you to sit down with a single quick head tilt. Your face grimaces at his cave-man like gesture, and although you went slowly about it, you do as he says and take a seat.

You snuggle deeper into the couch cushion, and allow your body to relax. You’re so used to being on guard whenever around Sunghoon, it feels almost natural to stiffen up. Letting yourself relinquish this tension built up in your muscles, you find it easier to keep your cool.

Dropping your arms to your side, you start to focus harder on the movie and less on the boy sitting next to you. Does it slightly freak you out that his fingertips are only centimeters away from your shoulder? Yes. But for the most part, you can sense this is….tolerable. As if for once, you don’t feel like biting Park Sunghoon’s head off.

Minutes turn into over an hour this movie has been on, and both you and Sunghoon have managed to not get into a single argument. You aren’t sure when the last instance of this was. Elementary, maybe? Regardless, you’re at ease.

Your arm is propping your head up as you watch the characters on screen. The movie, though you never asked for its name, was some romantic comedy. You picked up on this fact a few minutes into watching it. And, wow, were they intense on the romance.

You couldn’t even count the amount of make-outs that has happened since you’ve been watching. You almost want to say 8 so far- oh, make it 9 now.

The lead characters are on their 9th kissing scene, stumbling around and fondling one another in the bathroom at some house party. You watch closely, part of your brain now heightened. The male actor is kissing the female until her ass touches the sink, and then he’s hoisting her up so she can sit on the counter.

Your face contorts unpleasantly. The scene further plays out to where the girl is begging the man for sex, desperate to have him inside of her, and you feel your mouth go dry.

This is beginning to hit a little too close to home for your likings, with a dusted memory you swore to bury attempting to resurface. You push the thoughts aways. Not now.

Trying to ignore the random squeeze your legs do, you tell yourself to ignore the familiarities and simply focus on the movie. However, at the moment the man grips the the women’s throat and she moans intensely, you nearly freeze. Yeah, you can’t watch this anymore.

With an airy voice, you keep your eyes fixed on the T.V to seem passive, “Change it to something else.”

“What?” Sunghoon doesn’t glance over to you, also keeping his gaze forward, “Why?”

You scoff lightly. Why can’t he just listen to you? What’s with the interrogation? “You always ask so many questions. Just change it.”

To that he responds with nothing. You’re not giving him a proper response, so why should he listen to you? He remains engrossed in the movie.

When a few notable beats pass, you crane your neck over to his direction with a scrunched faced, “Yah. Did you hear me? I said put on something else.”

He briskly whips his head to meet your eyes, his dark eyes boring harshly, “I don’t care what you have to say. I’m not changing it.”

Fed up with him, you reach over to grab the remote when he obtains it first. You glare menacingly at Sunghoon, while he mocks your expression, then holds the remote high above, taunting you. His slender fingers harboring it only fuels your anger, which grows hotter by the second.

“Don’t piss me off.” You warn with undertones of a threat, as you climb over him to reach for the device. He extends it further away from your grasp.

“Or what?”

Bobbing the remote over your head, he just knew you were going to lose your cool at some point. That’s what all whiny brats do when they never get their way; they throw tantrums.

“Just fucking put on something else!” You scream, fighting him for the remote.

You don’t care if you can feel your shorts start to ride up into your butt, or if your boobs are being shoved up against Sunghoon’s body. You don’t care that you’re basically on top of him, trying to win this remote, because all rationality has exited your head.

You ask him to do one simple thing, and he fucking couldn’t. Then, he wants to tease you and make fun of you? You tried, you think back to your mother’s message, and in your mind the exchange begins to burn. You really fucking tried, but this…arrogant bastard just always makes it so damn hard.

He shakes the little strands of hair away from his face as he narrows his eyes brutally towards your squirmy body, “What the fuck is your deal? You’re telling me your whore ass can’t handle one god damn sex scene?”

This time you don’t say anything back to him, instead your intention remains on getting the fucking remote. He takes your lack of response as an opportunity to dig further at you.

“Really? You’re going to act like that?” He spews out more comments while continuously keeping the control from getting in your reach, “I find it hard to believe you’re freaking out-”

“Damn brat. You’ve been needing this fucking for a long time, haven’t you?”

At the line of dialogue, Sunghoon shifts his attention towards the scene being played out, one of which the girl is now bent over the sink with the man pounding roughly into her backside. And with the combination of the man’s words and the stimulating scene, his eyes widen as he finally realizes what the core problem is.

A wave of deja vu hits him. A few months ago, he had you in a damn near similar position to that on the TV, even saying similar phrasing. The two of you had been drunk off of your minds, resulting in the memory being blocked from his head.

“What the fuck?” He mumbles, letting his guard down, giving you the chance to swoop upwards and snatch the remote away. All scattered-brain, you press the power button and watch as the TV powered down.

“See.” You grit through your teeth, throwing the remote down in the meantime, “I told you. I told your dumbass to fucking change it. But, no. You didn’t want to listen to me.”

His own chest starts to burn with aggression at your words, and he looks over to you angrily, “Will you just shut the fuck up? My god, you’re so annoying.”

“What? Mad because I was right?” You fake a pouty voice, your eyes going all doey while regarding him before swiftly fixing your face, “I never want to think about that night, and here you go, basically parading it in my face. And based off of your reaction, I can tell you hate thinking about it too.”

Sunghoon sits up from off of the couch, and brings his forearms to rest against his knees. That night was full of mistakes. Jake inviting him to that dumb ass party, Heeseung feeding him back to back shots of some sort of alcohol. The kind of of alcohol that forces you to act on thoughts that otherwise would've been suppressed.

The memories all rush back to him. The moment he saw you at the party, laughing and dancing around in that tiny fucking dress. It was like right then and there, his views on you changed. Instead of dismissing your presence, he found himself drawn to it. Instead of ignoring the silhouette of your body, he allowed himself to watch every single part of you.

When throwing all caution to the wind and deciding to walk up to you, he remembers you being equally as wasted as himself. That hadn’t stopped you from throwing an immediate snarl at his approach, however. Although the interaction started with you two bickering, as always- the evening had ended so much differently.

He remembers it all. Moving from the main room to the bathroom, still jabbing insults at each other. How from one second to the next, your dress was now hiked up above your hips. The touching, the teasing, how hard the two of you came. The whole scene plays out in his head, and for some reason, Sunghoon can’t stop it.

You snide in another comment which breaks his thoughts, “Yeah, I guess I’d be mad too if I were you. You basically threw yourself at me and begged to fuck me. It’s pathetic how desperate you were.”

Now, you’re really heated. You rise to your feet in seconds and march over to stand above him, feeling reminiscent of your previous imagination. At the noticeable imbalance, the same satisfaction from earlier mixes with your current anger.

It spreads across your chest as you lour down at him, watching him bring a hand over his mouth, “For a change, you don’t have anything to say, is that why you’re silent? Did I finally get you to shut up?”

At the quietness that lingers in the air, you press further to elicit a greater reaction. Bursting out more and more taunts, you knew this is where you found enjoyment, watching him spiral and be confused by his own thoughts. You’re proud to make him feel just as perplexed as you were the whole night.

You’re ready to throw another insult his way when his tall body shoots up into the air, looming over you. His eyes are rage-filled, you can see that, and reactively you backpeddle just as he rushes closer to you.

“Y/N, I swear to fucking god. You’re going to make me lose my mind.”

For a brief second, your hard exterior falters. His warning is low- almost growl like. It intimidated you initially, but then swiftly you regain composure and stand your ground, “You make me lose my mind all the time. So what? You’re not special.”

You audibly hear his breathing, and it begins to sync up with your own heavy pants. Both of you are pissed, that much is clear. It’s just about who is going to crumble first. And surely, it won’t be you.

He’s got a crazy look to his eyes, “I’m telling you right now. Shut. Up.”

You knew better than to challenge him. You knew you should walk away and storm upstairs. Exit the situation before matters get even worse. Quite literally anything else should be done, than the actions you decide to take.

You close the distance between you both, smiling the whole time as he brings his head in to regard you. At the recognition of that sick, sick smile you’re showcasing, he too knew it would be over.

Your voice starts off quiet, whispering out a, “What will happen if I don’t?” before absolutely losing it in his face, “Just face it, Sunghoon. You're not the perfect person you portray yourself to be after all. I mean, fucking the person you hate most at a party? Even that's a new low for you."

You hover below his face, stretching your body tall until your noses are almost touching, "I'm tired of you pretending to be higher than everyone else. Always treating people like they’re twenty feet below you. You’re vile and I think it's time you realized.....maybe you're the fucking problem. Hmm? Did you not think of-?"

Sunghoon doesn't know what came over him. One second, you're throwing words after words at him, and next thing he knows, he's pushing you up against the wall, knocking the wind out of you.

His veiny hands are curled around your neck, and your mouth hangs from shock at the sudden movement while he holds you firmly in your place. The pressure he's applied is not enough to significantly hurt you, he made sure it didn't, but was definitely enough to finally get you to stop talking.

You gasp lightly and your head feels faint.

"Do you…remember how that night started?" His tone is dark with his focus solely on you. You try bringing your hands up to pry him off of you, but he doesn't budge, instead going to answer his own question, "Because if memory serves me right, you were the one who was desperate. Desperate for this.”

This referring to the minor squeeze his hand does around your throat. He continues, "You were the one who kept testing me. Wanted to see what would happen if you made me angry enough." The gap between you two closes when he draws himself inwards, making sure you heard this next part clearly, "Someone needed to shut that bratty ass mouth of yours up then," He drops his gaze to briskly look at your lips then jeers, "And right now."

While you're left to wear a poor, helpless expression, Sunghoon couldn't help but eye you curiously. It should be laughable the new state you're in. So completely different from your previous attitudes.

Using his hand to guide you, he roughly brings your head forward, so his mouth can brush the outer shell of your ear, "You really pissed me off, Y/N."

You get shoved back against the wall with a wince. "And... maybe that was your end goal with all of these arguments. You wanted to get me to this point." At the recognition of his own words, the wheels begin to turn in his brain. His eyebrows dart upward and a devilish smile tugs at his lips, "And to that, you're going to regret saying even one word tonight. I'll make sure of it."

Before you can react, Sunghoon crawls his hand up until it rests below your chin. As his thumb releases from your skin, and slowly works his way up to your lips, you think he'll be gentle in the way he's getting ready to touch you.

Oh, how wrong you were.

The moment his thumb comes in contact with your mouth, it's being shoved into your wet hole. You gag on the digit as he begins ordering you to suck, "Just needa fuck the bratiness out of you, then. Remind you of how much of a fucking slut you were for me that night."

He instructs you to go harder, and faster, and leisurely, you do so. Tingles start to form all around him, "Yeah. I'll do that. I'll just have to fuck you dumb myself, starting with your loud mouth."

You squeeze your eyes shut at the motion, coughing hard against his skin as his fingers move to tangle within your hair. Sunghoon always knew how catty you can be, this fact evident from what happened that night at the party.

However, what's also true, is that you do it for your own guilty pleasure. You purposely bring this upon yourself.

He yanks his thumb away and in return, you're inhaling harshly for air, "-what the fuck?"

Sunghoon dismisses your worries. Without warning, he has you falling to the ground with one swift push, his own desires now starting to throb inside his sweats, "Go on. Pull down my pants, brat."

He murmurs those words with a tilted face. In contrast, you look up at him as fear and lust begin to cloud your vision. Even with the menacing face he sports, you know you're not one to fully give-in. Especially when it comes to Park Sunghoon.

You aren't sure what it is about the defiance, but it makes you crazy, "Like hell-"

The grip in your hair tightens and your mouth drops from the pain. He regards your expression, "Really? Do you think you're in a position to object me right now?"

Lips parted, you shudder out a sigh while staring at Sunghoon's deep gaze. The stance he has you in makes your stomach erupt into butterflies.

"Pull my pants down." He repeats once again and after a pause, you eventually do so. With a tremble, you begin to bring both hands up and fondle the waistband, struggling to remove the barricade.

A tiny smile breaks out onto the boy's face. It's amusing how you pretend as if this wasn't the end prize. He watches you react disgustingly to his finally freed cock that springs forward, and it takes all of his power to not ram it into your ungrateful little mouth.

"What are you looking like that for? Aren't you a whore for my cock, Y/N?" He derides and thrusts himself towards your face. You try to create distance, but the hand in your hair keeps you in place, "Let’s go. Stop acting like that and take out your fucking tongue."

You hate yourself for listening to him.

With a small shiver, you unhurriedly extend your tongue from your mouth, and immediately he slaps his dick onto your muscle. He's had a great amount of pre-cum built up for some time now, starting from the minute you came down in that skimpy ass outfit. So, as soon as his dick hits your tongue, your taste buds are drowning in the liquid.

He's gasping lightly from the immediate sensation. He rubs his head all over your surface, then gradually does he start to slip himself in and out of your mouth. Your eyes go nearly white from trying to take his full length, but that’s something that only makes Sunghoon hornier.

You’re gargling around his skin as he proceeds to go faster, his base smacking against your chin every so often. Spit and his thick liquid mix to form a froth that starts to spill from the corners of your mouth, and Sunghoon groans lowly at how filthy you look.

“Oh…fuck.” It feels too good, the rocking of his hips speeding up. He’s enjoying the aggressive way he bucks himself harder and harder inside of your throat. And even as you’re thrashing beneath him, straining to get air, he finds that he didn’t want to stop. It just turns him so damn much to see you take his fat cock.

He throws his head back, “Keep it open for me. Fuck- just keep that nasty mouth open.”

You’re sick. Sick towards him for using you in such a degrading way, for letting him nearly cut off the circulation to your head. Right now, you’re nothing more than a fuck toy for him, and he doesn’t even seem to care. Not when he has you as the perfect fucking stimulant.

Yet, you’re also sick at yourself. It’s embarrassing that you notice your pussy clenching around nothing the longer he keeps this up. The fact that you’ve become so dilated in your core that gravity has slick juices leaking from your entrance. All because of this asshole that’s abusing your mouth, you're becoming aroused like never before. It’s humiliating, really.

His movements begin to stutter with a vibration to his eyelids. Oh, fuck. He can feel his cum wanting to shoot out. Sunghoon continues to push your head into him as he internally debates at what the outcome should be. There’s still so much he’s wanting to do to you, to prove.

When you can’t take the torture anymore, you’re soon hitting his leg to get him the hell away from you. Your reaction makes him realize how intrusive he’s starting to be, but he's so swirled with the immaculate pleasure that he almost didn’t let go. Before he knows it, he’ll be cumming down your throat at any moment.

Ripping himself from your suction, Sunghoon relinquishes you two from the torture. Ragged breathing emits from you as hungrily you take in the surrounding air. He, on the other, holds quieter breaths. A part of him is surprised that he was even willing to let himself finish so quickly. You were going to make him finish quickly.

With a few additional huffs, and after a moment of silence falls into the atmosphere, he’s ready to address you. Because he’s not done with you just yet.

“Yah,” There’s a gasp to his tone while you glare up begrudgingly, “You finally changed that attitude of yours?”

With your chest heaving up and down, you continue to stare angrily. Sunghoon cocks his head to the side while he awaits for your reply, though judging by the look you sport, he doesn’t think it’ll be the answer he wants.

“Eat a fucking dick.” With a hoarse throat, you spit the phrase at him.

And. Snap.

Before you know it, Sunghoon is grabbing you by the hair and yanking you over to the couch with a stumble. He tosses your body face first into the cushion and you land with a soft groan.

“Just can’t stop, can you?” He sees your ass recoiling from the previous motion and he swears it makes him go feral, "I'll just have to keep reminding you then."

In a flash, when you tried to push yourself up, he strikes a hand down to your cheeks. Your flesh jiggles with the audible slap and you're falling back down with a much louder moan.

“Did you like that?” Feigning stupidity, Sunghoon uses one arm to grab at your tiny shirt from the back, flipping you around till you laid chest-up sprawled out on the couch, "Do you want another?"

Eyes glossy with anger, you can’t help but whimper as he lands a harsh smack to your clothed cunt. He repeats the motion in a harder manner once again, and this time you’re fighting back. You wriggle to close yourself off from him, but he’s fighting to keep your legs open. He's clasping your clit.

Your arms move in for attack, though he’s able to immobilize your hands by taking them with one grasp and holding them above your head. You’re stuck now.

You squirm around, “I hate you.”

"Really?" unfazed by your words, Sunghoon simply gives your wet core a hearty squeeze, “Well, I’m feeling that might not be true.”

Staring smugly, he keeps his eyes locked on your frantic gaze as he sweeps your shorts to the side. Wetness coats the tips of fingers in an instant and he hasn’t even fully touched you. Fucking hell.

“Right. You hate so much.” Sarcasm oozes from his lips with every stroke his fingers give your pussy, and you’re left to do nothing but wiggle. He towers over your contorted body, loving how quickly he was able to put you down.

His fingers circle your lips teasingly before moving into your dripping entrance. He doesn’t waste another second in shoving his digits in and out of your hole, eyeing the way you struggle to keep a straight face.

“S-So fucking annoying.” You stutter out, trying your absolute hardest to not slip and give him any further satisfaction of knowing he got to you.

Sunghoon takes this as a challenge. Leaning in closer, he changes the angle his fingers hit inside your squelching walls. His fingers gradually increase in pace until you're seeing stars. He continues to ram his digits inside of your pussy as they grow wetter and wetter. He keeps this up. And soon, your face morphs from that of resilience to a more natural state, your eyes lowering.

Oh, god. Your body’s succumbing to him. It’s taking the pleasure produced by him and using it against you, dammnit it. What becomes worse is how your body begins to rock alongside his fingers, chasing the high that’s ever growing in your system.

You howl, “Fuck!”

His fingers feel like they’re hitting your g-spot and now you’re a mess. Thrashing and twisting below him while he finger fucks your way to an orgasm. Your toes curl in the feelings that’s wafting over you. You’re losing control.

“God, I hate you. I hate you so fucking much.” You grit out through clenched teeth, eyes now tightly shut as you concentrate on his wicked pounding, “Can’t stand you. I-”

“Yeah? Yeah?” His questions are disingenuous. He wants you to keep going. Keep digging yourself a grave.

“Piss me of so- ah! Fuck! Don’t stop, don’t stop.” The words topple from your lips without a thought. Your hips rut harshly into his fingers, so greedily, so close to basically squirting. By any second you’re going to….you’re going to-

Your body goes cold the minute Sunghoon snatches his fingers from you, abstaining you from the arousal you'd been subjected to. Screeching, you bellow out a desperate cry from how empty you feel.

He bores a look of apathy, indifferent to your flailing, "What? Did you think I would actually let you cum? After your shitty attitude all night?"

Reaching down, he adjusts your rigid body into a more elongated position, then he's straddling you, "I just needed to get you ready. Cause now I want to destroy you."

You want to slap him, your face growing hotter by the second. This night, you've spent it feeling nothing but rage and lividness because of the boy on top of you.

But then he's working to uncover your breasts, playing and squishing them with both palms, and momentarily your facade begins to fade.

He's hunched over in the way he's needlessly gunning for your neck, biting and marking every spot he could. You squeal from the pain, and that only pushes him further.

He circles around the same throat he held previously to leave splotches of red staining your skin. It's in this moment of daze, his rapture begins to enthrall him, causing his cock to throb and throb until it's hurting.

Sunghoon works his way up, passing by your chin until he's aggressively making out with you. All of the pent up tension and conflicts feels as if they're being spilled out within the rough kiss, and you wrap an arm around him and mewl needily into his breath.

You still hate him, even if his annoyingly perfect lips mold deliciously into yours. You still hate him, even as he expertly touches and grabs at your tits, providing more stimulation to your already horny self.

But even you can't deny the desperate longing your body seeks as his thick, hard skin prods at the entrance of your shorts right now. And he can't wait anymore.

"Mmm, ready for me?" He mumbles against your mouth, though he didn't necessarily care for a response. Because even if you were to protest, he knew it would just be another ploy at deflection.

He's back to kissing you. The aggression that's brought along with it could be mistaken for passion and it makes you weak. Right before he darts the fabric off to the side and ready to take you whole, you pull back slightly, wanting to say one more thing.

"I h-hate you so much," you whine and he could only laugh. You truly never know when to shut up.

"You've told me that a couple of times." Muttering back, he recaptures your mouth and without wasting another second his cock finally plunges into your deep pussy.

Your walls immediately grip him, and the two of you groan simultaneously into each other. He did a good job at prepping you; you're beautifully slick and warm, just the way he likes it.

His cock starts to thrust rhythmically, relieving the ache you both were so full of. You can't help the string of grunts that fall from your lips, all chopped from each hit he gives your pussy.

"S-Shit." Sunghoon detaches his mouth from yours to completely bask in the arousal that's coursing throughout him. It brings him back to that night.

The night where you bent your sexy ass over for him, and watched yourself in the mirror as he smashed into your backside. He was on Cloud 9 then, but now coherent and in the right head space, it's like the pleasure has doubled.

You, meanwhile, are having an internal battle with yourself. Holy shit. It feels so fucking good when he's pounding inside of you. You swear you're gonna cum at any point. But, there's still this sense of revulsion that bubbles in the pit of your stomach- because of the fact that you're allowing Park Sunghoon to fuck you so roughly.

"H-Hope you know- mmrgh! This is a-all your fault." You stammer out, eyes shutting forcefully on themselves, "You always c-cause problems. You're in the- you're in the-"

A hand comes down over your lips and shuts you up, your face relaxing into a state of bliss. You aren't sure why you always jumble out nonsense when in moments of euphoria. It's just as if....he's...

"I said I would fuck you dumb," Sunghoon sighs as his back lurches over to grind into your cunt at a different angle, "Guess I actually did."

Your response is muffled and buzzes into his skin. There are no intentions of uncovering himself, either. No way will he let this indescribable sensation be override by your loud ass, bratty ass mouth.

His hips continue to drive harshly into your liquified cunt, squelching and dripping the more he fucks himself into you. He only gets faster while you begin to grow limp. Your own pleasure starts to consume you until you don't have the willpower to move.

Sunghoon feels his cock start to twitch, "About to cum," he moans near your ear, "Can feel myself about to cum inside your dirty pussy. Are you close too?"

You shriek into his hand a multitude of yes's as you feel yourself so close to snapping. It's only a matter of time before you're losing control all at the hands of your actual worst nightmare.

He weighs his options, "Mmm....but should I? Do you deserve to orgasm with me?"

You'd despise not only him but yourself if you didn't. You're too far gone. The pleasure is catching up to you closer and closer, the more he buries himself damn near into your cervix. Waves after waves of ecstasy release into your core and you almost want to cry from how amazing it feels. So there's no fucking way you're going to miss this.

You never thought you would do this, but it's only a matter of time.

What sounds like your yes's transforming into pleads, Sunghoon scrunched his eyebrows, going to remove your hand. Are you....?

The moment your mouth is free you yell out a whimper, "Please. Please. 'm so close, Sunghoon. Sunghoon, please. I can't, I can't. I need this so bad."

Oh, fuck.

He'd never thought he'd see the day. He's never heard you beg before. The way his name sounds so good when you're pleading, how it squeals out from your lips. It makes his cock twitch once again and he's clenching his ass cheeks to stop him from popping a load right into you.

"You really want to?" He speaks quietly and more to himself, before deciding to give you what you want. Even brats can be rewarded.

He's pushing himself up and is now hovering over your face, his pelvis driving brutally into your core, "Okay. Okay, just let go. Cum for me."

You're so grateful you could kiss him. You let the slaps his skin produce fill you ears as you give yourself some slack for even letting this happen. You were about to cum because of Park Sunghoon, and there was nothing you wanted to do to stop it.

Sunghoon can't help but stare at your wavering face. Going from tight tension to relaxing and belting out a moan, your expressions keeps his eyes trained on you.

"Here, here. Faster, need you to cum right now." And almost like a present for you, Sunghoon brings a hand down to start massaging your clit, getting you to the very last point you needed to before exploding.

When his fingers circle rapidly against your nerves, combined with his pounding that has you babbling out nothing, your orgasm hits you so hard, starting from your pussy and running up into your head, making you dizzy. The moment causes you to starting quavering sporadically and mewing out, 'I'm cumming!'

That was what Sunghoon needed. Your orgasm causes your insides to start squeezing, pulsating around his cock so perfectly. At the third time he feels his cock beginning to twitch, he grants himself permission to let go. Next thing he knows, he's shooting out viscous ropes of cum into your velvety cunt, groaning about how perfect of a brat you are for him.

'Finally fucking listened'

'My perfect brat'

'God, you're amazing'

All is being said as you two finish out your orgasms. As he stutters above you, and you're quaking below him, you both seem to have finally found peace within being close to one another.

Which brings to an end this dirty, filthy night.

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- Bonus -

Your mother and Mrs. Park hadn't intended on being back at the house past midnight. But, how were they supposed to know the company gathering would be such a blast!

The event had the women interacting, mingling, dancing, singing with every single one of their coworkers until around 11:30 PM! And that was only because the event was over around then, they surely still had some more juice in their system.

By the time the two arrived back at your house, they'd been laughing hysterically to one another, unbeknownst to the absolute chaos that had ensued just hours earlier.

Your mother unlocks the door with her keys, and as they swing it open, they're met with a surprising scene in front of them.

Sunghoon, all wide awake, and sitting on the couch by his lonesome. The T.V is there to keep him entertained, but other than that, there were no signs that you were around. As Mrs. Park goes to greet her son, your mother stares at the boy with worried eyes.

"Oh, Sunghoon. Were you down here by yourself this whole time? Did Y/N not come down?" She walks up to him, though is quickly mollified when he's giving her a small smile.

"No, she did. We watched a film together, though half-way through it, she started to doze off. I had to carry her upstairs; she was so out of it." He nods softly at the end of his sentence and your mother reciprocates his delicate response.

It warms her heart to hear that you tried.

"Oh, Hoonie! I told you things would work itself out if you would just be nicer to the poor girl. You know how timid she can be." His mother pats at his shoulder, "Come on. Grab your shoes and I'll take us home."

"I'm happy you guys were able to have a nice night together." Your mother beams while walking alongside Sunghoon towards the front door, "Are you two okay now? Should I be expecting you back here more often?"

Sunghoon regards your mother, his own brain thinking at how to properly respond to that. It's not until he's slipped his shoes and coat on, and holding the door open for Mrs.Park to exit, before giving a proper answer.

"Yes, Miss, I believe we're just fine now.”

At the last second of his departure, his eyes catch sight of movement on the staircase. Having awoken from your slumber, you heard voices from downstairs and decided to investigate. Creeping around the top stairs, all you were met with was Sunghoon talking to your mother with one foot out the door.

You attempt to remain hidden behind the wall, waiting for him to leave. But, soon, you find his gaze moving slowly until it lands onto your face. He holds eye contact with you one last time, your stomach in knots from how compelling his essence is.

“I'll try to come back here more often," He steps his other foot outside as a faint grin overtakes his cheeks.

"I’ll make sure of it.”

[sunsburns]

guess

smut 18+, age gap, fem reader, underwear fixation

logan howlett loves to swear up and down that he’s too old to mess around with a pretty young thing like you. you’re out of his league in everything you do, from the way you can get up early in the morning and stay out late at night, stumbling back into your apartment in a fit of giggles, humming the last song that played at the club you were returning from.

he acts like he doesn’t notice, and he acts like you don’t exist. but the moment you bumped into him in the laundry room it’s been hard to ignore you.

it was wade who’d introduced the two of you to each other when he was giving logan the grand tour of the apartment complex, and they’d run into you while you were unloading a drier, tossing your clothes into a basket.

you in your tiny shorts and tight tank top, one earbud in and the other dangling by your chest. he tried hard not to stare, especially when you slowly straightened yourself up, holding your basket of clothes to your side, hair messy and sticking to your face a little bit.

it was hot in the laundry room, hell, the whole fucking building felt like a furnace now that the a.c. refused to work in the peak of summer.

but there you were, wide smile and open arms when wade shoved logan in your direction. you didn’t take it personally when he merely grunted at you, a slight nod to his head as a greeting. to logan’s surprise, your lips curled as you looked up at him, and you stared up at him like he was some kind of tree you wanted to climb.

no shame about it either.

logan’s eyes were drawn to your basket as wade spoke, retelling the whole story of how the two of you became ‘neighbour besties’, as he had put it. how you helped wade keep up with the ‘youngsters’, as he called them.

no, logan was too busy staring at a lacy black pair of panties sitting at the top of your basket. pretty little thing, pretty little bows to adorn it.

he slowly tore his eyes away from them and looked at you, then down to your hips where he could see your bright pink underwear, peaking out from the denim.

and maybe, in a dream or two, he imagined what those cute pink ones looked like in full. how it would be like to push you against your door before you could even unlock it, unbutton your shorts and dig his hands into them just to feel the soft fabric of your pretty pink underwear, soiled and ruined from how wet you were with want.

but for now, he’d have to do with the black lacy ones, he almost didn't want to take them off. running his hands over the fabric, grinning when your back arches against the bed, a little desperate, way too needy.

you’ve soaked them, all ruined just from him touching you, from the way his teeth teased you, pulling at the bows, running his nose over your clothed pussy.

logan hooked his fingers over the fabric at the center, pulling it to the side, tongue poking into your cunt, drawing out a whine from you. with an open mouth, he pulled back to see your slick, coated lips with a satisfied grunt.

logan pulled them back just to stare. fuck, they were so pretty. you were so pretty just sitting under him, in nothing but those pretty panties. yeah, logan might be old, but he can keep up for a night.

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧ 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱'𝘀 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 ♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 sukuna is a mafia kingpin 𖥔 teasing grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 pregnancy trope 𖥔 he'll burn the world for you 𖥔 "my wife" 𖥔 he's a great dad 𖥔 mentions of miscarriage 𖥔 mentions of physical and sexual assault 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 he loves eating you out 𖥔 anal play (yup.) 𖥔 last warning: mdni!

: ̗̀➛ words: 6.0k

: ̗̀➛ notes: no bc i love you all so much. it's insane how much you guys have supported my toji fanfic & and my nanami fanfic. i'll def be writing a part two to both of those masterpieces (yes i have self-confidence). as someone who's always imagined sukuna as a mafia leader, i decided to say fuck it and write it. please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy! (p.s. pregnancy trope>>>)

You never thought you'd be married to Sukuna Ryomen, let alone carrying his kid again. Yet, four years deep into this forced marital mess, thanks to your father owing a hefty debt to the kingpin of the underworld crime syndicate, here you were.

“Look at you, Mrs. Ryomen, radiant as ever!” chirped one of your husband’s associate's wives. You had studied a name list last night, but it all escaped your memory after you passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Sukuna wasn’t keeping a hawk's eye on you like he used to when you first stepped into the public eye. Gone were the days of his glares if you messed up a name. Never once had he laid a finger on you at home, despite your assumption that forgetfulness would earn you a beating.

“Thank you." You forced a smile at the woman, your patience waning as the mayor's birthday party stretched on. It was almost the end of the night, and your feet were protesting from traipsing around in flats. All you craved at that moment was your bed, pronto.

The woman and her husband attempted to capture Sukuna's lukewarm attention through political discussions and expressing gratitude for the illegal artillery shipments from your husband's syndicate. They made no effort to acknowledge your existence by his side.

Your hand rested on your belly, a mere eight months into your pregnancy—a new personal record. The first time you conceived, Sukuna demanded an heir, and you willingly agreed, knowing that the child would provide some distraction in the expansive estate that felt like a cage. Unfortunately, at the two-month mark, you experienced a miscarriage.

Feeling Sukuna's knuckles lightly tapping your back, you straightened your posture momentarily, only to slouch again almost instantly. It was futile. The discomfort of your swollen and cramped belly made it nearly impossible to maintain a poised demeanor in the midst of the party.

Disobeying Sukuna meant facing inevitable death, a fact well understood in his dangerous domain, and you had never dared to challenge that.

"Let's go," Sukuna said, cutting through the incessant chatter of the couple. He didn't grasp your hand, only your fragile wrist, a gesture you didn't mind. Yours was not a typical love; he, Sukuna Ryomen, a most feared monster in the criminal underworld, and you, a sacrificial lamb, a trophy collected three years ago, a means to his heir.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you exited the venue, heading towards the limousine surrounded by fifteen armed guards under Sukuna's command. "I'm so sorry—"

"Get in the car." He held the door open for you, signaling his guards to disperse and take their positions in the Jeeps parked behind.

Silencing yourself, you cautiously settled into the back seat, and Sukuna joined you, slamming the door with force. His anger was discernible, and the memory of that night, losing your second unborn child to a kidnapping, plagued your dreams. You were uncertain if the nightmares were about Sukuna's wrath upon finding you or the horrors his enemies inflicted on you during your 48-hour captivity.

Sukuna noticed your struggle with the seatbelt and contorted his body toward you. Your fingers released their grip on the belt, allowing him to pull it taut and secure it snugly around your midsection. Click. He withdrew, distancing himself from your face that had been mere inches away.

“Tedious fucking party, anyway,” Sukuna grumbled, his left ankle casually perched on his right kneecap. He always adopted a specific posture, his elbow leaning against something, cheek resting on his knuckles, and his narrow eyes a rich brown that could almost pass for a deep shade of red. He exuded an unrelenting air of intimidation.

"I agree," you unintentionally voiced your thoughts, earning a sidelong glance from him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

His attention barely lingered on you as the car roared to life. You breathed a sigh of relief, stretching out your legs and leaning your head back against the seat's shoulder. Your palm absentmindedly traced circles on your belly. Goosebumps peppered your skin from the frigidness in the car, stirring an involuntary shudder.

"Turn on the heater," Sukuna ordered the driver in his smooth, languid baritone.

"Yes, sir."

As warmth gradually surrounded the backseat, you hummed a small "Thank you" and closed your eyes, enjoying a few moments of peace.

Disorientation clouded your senses, and you dispelled it by rubbing your eyes and using your knuckles to prop yourself against the headboard. A couple of contractions ripped through your gut, causing you to groan and hiss through gritted teeth.

The enormous room was devoid of Sukuna, its black silk sheets hinting at the luxury covering you. The fireplace casted a warm glow, and a soft, dim golden light spilled from the lamp onto the floor.

In the first year of your marriage and pregnancy, your bedroom was located three doors away. You were tended to by on-site nurses and doctors, surrounded by an entourage of maids for company. Days were spent aimlessly wandering the estate, occasionally crossing paths with one of Sukuna's mistresses, their curious smirks evident as they exited his room.

The second year brought a subtle shift. You still slept alone, but now there was a surprising addition of joining Sukuna for dinner. Positioned diagonally from him, an air of restrained silence hung above your head. Yet, between the utensils clattering and quiet chewing, Sukuna's glances toward you and your five-month-old belly revealed your anticipation for the impending arrival of your child.

One of your maids had been instructed to lure you into a private conversation in the back garden, and before you could react, a group of men clad in black drugged you and forcibly removed you from the cage, which in that cruel moment felt like a sanctuary.

Most details of the monstrosities forced upon you in that warehouse have been compressed by your mind—the merciless physical and sexual assault endured for hours. They callously bragged that raping Sukuna's Ryomen's wife was a personal victory, cackling like bloodthirsty hyenas as you bled from your legs. In the thick of your suffering, you lost your second child in a pool of your own sweat and feces.

When Sukuna discovered you, when he annihilated every man along with their bloodlines, you were left as a mere shell of a woman, practically lifeless. You've existed as a walking corpse for quite some time now. Following that dreadful night, you attempted every conceivable means to end your own life—drowning, leaping out of windows, creating a makeshift noose from bed sheets and tying them around balcony railings, teetering on the edge—but every attempt proved useless. Sukuna consistently interfered at the last minute, sweeping in and enveloping you in his arms as you wept until unconsciousness claimed you for days.

Therapy provided some relief, as did the medications. Sukuna heightened security measures tenfold, keeping only those workers who served during his father and grandfather's reigns. He moved your belongings into his bedroom, sleeping by your side with a gun beneath his pillow. There were times when you would doze off in the library while reading, only to wake up in his room.

Two years seemed like an eternity in the slow process of healing, both physically and mentally, from the torment that had befallen you. Stepping into the garden was a reminder of the progress you had made, yet the hope that blossomed in your womb now filled you with a different kind of fear.

You needed your baby. Even if it meant risking your own life during childbirth. The only thing that mattered was the precious life you carried within you, and as long as your baby took that first breath, you'd welcome death with open arms.

Sukuna's bedroom door creaked open, revealing his presence.

Mink-colored tendrils of hair obscured his eyes, disheveled from their usual spiked stance. The stark white of his dress shirt was marred by the unmistakable stains of someone else's blood, and a gun dangled casually from his grasp. In the subdued lighting, his facial markings, inked tattoos designed to mask the scars of his tormented childhood, appeared more ominous than ever.

Without acknowledging your ogling, he briskly entered his bathroom.

You slipped back under the covers, pulling the comforter up to your chin, soothing the sharp twinges in your belly. The rhythmic sounds of his shower served as a background melody. Sukuna took an eternity to freshen up, nearly two hours passing before the door finally creaked open. You had kept a close eye on it, lost in your own world and trying to ignore the persistent contractions. No complaints, though – you were at the eight-month mark, and this baby was determined to make its entrance into the world.

Draped in a sleek black silk robe, Sukuna strolled toward his side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. "Why are you still awake?" He tilted his head as if studying an unfamiliar creature. He always regarded you with a curious interest, unearthing some new revelations about you.

"Cramps," you whispered in the dimness, even though the first rays of morning sun began to seep through the curtains.

Sukuna strolled to his side of the bed, lifting the comforter to settle down. "Do you take any medication for it?"

You shook your head. "I don't want to take any risks."

"So you're just going to endure the night with a migraine?"

Your husband seemed oblivious to the concept of cramps. He hadn't bothered to educate himself about your pregnancy or even familiarize himself with basic menstrual cycle terminology. You hesitated to bring attention to his title and position, but he was, after all, born from a woman.

How could he not know?

"Answer me," Sukuna demanded, fixing you with a cold, indifferent gaze. How could two simple words carry such a heavy, intimidating weight? Your entire body shuddered, and you swore you felt your child kick in response to his attitude, causing you to clench your teeth.

"Cramps . . . are something women experience during their period and pregnancy. They're sharp, unpredictable pains in your gut and back," you explained, finding a position that eased the cramps and calmed your baby. "It's worse when you're pregnant—like someone attached a taser to your body without a switch to turn it off."

Sukuna's brow furrowed, and he seemed pissed off as if he held a vendetta against cramps. "Will it have any consequence on the baby?"

You were really trying to be patient. “The baby is the reason why.” 

He ran his hands wearily down his face, casting a stern gaze at the ceiling, his breath quickening. "Is there any way to relieve the pain? Besides medication?"

“Well,” you said slowly, “when I first started menstruating, my mother used to place a warm rubber bottle on my stomach.” The recollection of nights spent groaning, tossing, and turning with your hand clutching your stomach brought a smile. After her passing in high school, you found yourself managing the household, dealing with your drug-addicted father, and taking care of yourself all on your own.

"Come here."

Startled, you shifted your focus to your husband, who raised the comforter like a makeshift tent with one arm. "You don't have to—"

"Come here."

With caution, you edged closer, lying flat and holding your breath. Sukuna propped himself up on one elbow, resting his temple on his knuckles while adjusting the blanket up to your neck. His left hand glided up your sweater and settled on your swollen belly.

An immediate sense of relaxation cocooned you, your eyes closing as warmth radiated from his palm onto your skin. The sensation passed through to your child, who quit kicking within seconds, seemingly recognizing their father's touch. It dawned on you that Sukuna hadn't touched you since you conceived, and you hadn't realized the volume of your misery and longing until this moment.

"Feeling better?"

"Mm-hmm." You nestled your face close to his neck. All you managed to whisper, your voice tinged with brokenness, was, "Please, don't let go."

Sukuna responded only with silence.

You'd woken up screaming bloody-mary.

The security team and maids hurried into the bedroom, their eyes widening at the sight of blood staining your clothes and darkening the black sheets. In a swift response, the doctor and her team of nurses rushed in while Uraume, Sukuna's trusted aide, calmly called for your husband from a corner of the room.

In the heat of your excruciating screams, five nurses attempted to guide your breathing and encourage you to follow a pattern. Guards carefully lifted you into a sitting position, and Uraume decisively cleared the room of all men. The doctor swiftly removed your sweatpants and panties, covering your lower region with a sheet, and instructing you to push.

Your body felt numb, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and a black vignette closing in on your vision. Your head swayed left and right, on the verge of dropping if not for Uraume's unwavering support. Despite the intensity of your grip, they held steady, their only reaction being a stream of muttered curses amid the chaotic scene.

"I can't—Uraume—"

"You will, Mrs. Sukuna. You have come this far. Giving up now is not an option."

"I don't want to die," you whispered akin to a prayer.

"You won't," they softly replied. "He won't allow it."

Uraume, a silent figure from the past, now stood by your side, offering support and encouragement. The connection with them had been minimal, limited to the formalities of a marital contract signing. They had simply muttered, “He’s not half as evil as they say,” to you before packing up the papers and leaving you in the room with Sukuna.

The room buzzed with affirmations, reassuring you that they could see the baby's head and urging you to push with each breath.

The sound of the baby's cries stirred you awake.

You snapped to attention at the sweet, reassuring sound, realizing that your baby was close to arrival—alive and ready to face the world. Following two heartbreaking miscarriages and the pain endured as Sukuna's wife, the bearer of his lost children, you were finally on the cusp of welcoming motherhood.

"Two more pushes!" The doctor's voice cut through the air.

"AGH!" A guttural growl escaped your throat as you grappled with the harsh sensations. Your body trembled, and waves of fiery discomfort overflowed through your core as you exerted yourself to bring your baby into the world.

"Come on," Uraume whispered. "You can do this, Mrs. Ryomen."

You let out a powerful cry and strained with effort, bringing forth new life. The baby and you were crying at the exact wavelength, competing against who could be louder. The nurses and attendants, familiar faces from your previous pregnancies, clasped their hands in prayer for a safe delivery. Tears of relief streamed down your face as you pushed for your own well-being.

"Blanket!" the doctor urgently called out, prompting a nurse to rush over with a soft cream blanket. "Push!"

With a final, determined push, the weight lifted suddenly.

The slippery sensation of delivering the child and the immediate release of pressure left you slumping against Uraume's shoulder. As they laid you down, the doctor directed the staff to tend to you while the baby's cries filled the air.

The doctor approached through your hazy sight and gently laid your newborn on your chest. Overwhelmed with emotion, you showered your baby with kisses, tears of joy streaming down your face. Your little one was here. They were finally here.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Ryomen," the doctor announced as the cries of your newborn gradually faded into the background. "It's a girl."

You drifted into unconsciousness.

The soft cadence of Sukuna's voice filtered through the foggy boundaries of sleep, causing you to slowly come back to life.

“Why is this brat refusing to sleep?” you heard your husband grumbling.

With a laborious effort, you rubbed your eyes, summoning the strength to lift your head from the comfort of the pillow. The scene unfolded before you—Sukuna, the most feared criminal, pacing at the foot of his bed, cradling your crying newborn daughter in his arms, unsure of how to handle his little foe.

"What do you want? Food? You don’t have any teeth yet, little miscreant."

"Sukuna . . ." you whispered, a gentle plea for attention.

Your husband's gaze snapped in your direction, relief washing over his features as he realized you were conscious. "Thank fuck." Moving swiftly, he approached and took a seat at the edge of the bed.

His brown-reddish eyes lingered on the delicate scene unfolding before him—the intertwining of your index finger with your daughter's tiny, rattling fist. A calming magic seemed to stem from your touch, instantly soothing the cries to soft sniffles.

"Already playing favorites, I see," he remarked with a teasing tone, a wry smile on his lips.

"I have to feed her." Your voice was hoarse from the relentless screaming during the delivery. A series of deadly wheezes followed when you coughed, frightening your baby once more. Her cries started again, blending with the impatient curses of her father.

He gently placed her in the cradle, his strength used to prop you up against the headboard. The room carried the scent of coconut soap, your body freshly washed, the sheets beneath you brand-new. You were also dressed in a new set of panties and a nursing bra.

"Are you sure you have enough nutrients in your body to feed her?" Sukuna asked, holding your baby girl as you unclipped the front left cup. Rather than wasting your breath on a response, you focused on helping your daughter latch onto your nipple.

You winced once she caught it, then melted back as she started drinking. “I’m fine,” you finally answered. “Body . . . hurts.”

"No shit. You pushed an eight pound baby out of you." Despite the crude sarcasm in his tone, Sukuna tenderly caressed his knuckles over his daughter's cheek.

"Did you want . . . a girl?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, adjusting your baby onto your lap. "I assumed you'd prefer a boy as an heir."

"I'm not my father," he declared, putting an end to the conversation. "She's got your eyes."

Your daughter gazed up at you with a curiosity remarkably similar to yours. You smiled down at her, grateful she had made it. Grateful that Sukuna wasn't throwing a tantrum over the gender of your child but instead cupping the top of his baby girl's head and brushing his thumb across her forehead.

“You got a name for her?” Sukuna asked.

“Yes, but we can brainstorm if you don’t—”

“You carried the child, you birthed her, you will name her. Whatever it is, I agree.”

Something dead stirred inside your chest. Swallowing hard, you shared the chosen name, "Nobara."

He nodded in approval, and as he pronounced her name, Nobara responded with a wailing cry. "Her tantrums will be the fucking death of me." Sukuna took her into his arms again.

"Support the back of her head and rub her back. She needs to be burped," you advised.

He grunted but followed your instructions. Moments later, a tiny burp from Nobara made you chuckle, earning a slight eye roll and a hint of a smile from him.

"I'll take the next few weeks off to help you recover from the aftermath and the stitches," he announced, rising and walking towards his work desk, where he settled into a large leather chair, cradling your newborn.

You nodded appreciatively, easing yourself down.

"Oh, before I forget," Sukuna mentioned as you settled into bed, "I've arranged a new doctor for you."

“Did you fire the last one?”

“I fired at her, yes.”

Your eyes widened. "What? Why would you—? What?"

He shrugged, cradling the back of your newborn's head. "She suggested an additional stitch for you. Said it would make things 'tighter' down there for me."

Your face flushed. “So . . . you killed her?”

"Yes," he confirmed, his gaze fixed on you with those penetrating eyes, "I don't need a mere doctor questioning whether I'd still enjoy having sex with my wife after she gave birth to our child."

“But . . . you have mistresses. Don’t you?”

He lifted a brow. “I had mistresses up until . . . ”

Up until the kidnapping.

Sukuna never spoke of the crime after he’d saved you. Instead, he expressed his commitment through actions: sleeping beside you, teaching you how to handle a handgun, keeping a protective arm around your waist at social gatherings. Occasionally, you swore you felt him run his fingers through your hair as you slept.

"I wouldn't mind if you did," you admitted, a voice inside contradicting your words. "Given what my body has been through, I would find myself repulsive for pleasure, too. I understand if you feel disgusted."

Sukuna halted the gentle strokes on your daughter's back and straightened up. "What the fuck did you just say?"

An icy shiver ran through you, momentarily numbing the pain. "I-I just assumed—"

"You know, you make a lot of assumptions about me, wife. It gets under my fucking skin that you'd ever believe I could raise a hand on you. Day and night, every hour and minute, even now, in your presence, my mind is consumed with ways to kill the fear that's taken root in you.” He was infuriated yet vulnerable, with Nobara sleeping peacefully on his shoulder. “Everyone I’ve ever met has done nothing but fear me like I’m a curse on their soul, and while I’m flattered of the monster they’ve painted me out to be, I refuse to let my wife and daughter see me in that light. Do I make myself clear?"

You . . . nodded. 

“And for your information, I had mistresses up until I married you.”

You took in a sharp breath, processing the confession. "But those women—"

"Spies," he clarified, his voice low and steady. "They operate undercover in my clubs, keeping an eye out for potential threats. I haven't fucked anyone since the day I put that ring on your finger." He offered a small, almost imperceptible apology to your baby for cursing.

"Oh."

All you ever heard were twisted stories about the Sukuna Ryomen, a young man who, against all odds, slaughtered his own father to ascend the throne of the underworld criminal realm. Whispers spoke of a chilling childhood, where a mother's desperate attempt to suffocate her son in his sleep. The scars etched into his skin, concealed beneath a tapestry of dark markings, bore witness to the brutal initiation rites inflicted by vengeful uncles. In his domain, everyone prayed to see him buried six feet under.

Which is why you felt sympathy for your husband. He was lonely. Too lonely. Despite all the riches and influence surrounding him, he was stuck in a fortress where danger lurked around every corner. He had no friends, no one he could truly confide in—except perhaps Uraume. Opening up about his emotions wasn't in his nature. He kept the tough exterior, convinced that being a monster, a curse, was the only path to earning respect and recognition.

But just now, when had cut himself open in front of you and bled a human color, he was Sukuna. Your husband. The one who just became a father. A man wrapped in a comfortable robe with his hair combed down and his skin clean of dirt and blood as he held his daughter, as he gazed at you like you two were the only people meant fighting for in his treacherous world.

Sukuna noticed your silence, tuned in to your steady breaths, and lowered his lashes. "You'll ask me to touch you. Not just for the sake of having another child but for your own pleasure. If I'm not around and you need me, you will call, and I'll rush home. If this little brat gives you any trouble, I'll handle it. Hell, maybe I'll let her in on a bit of the family business for a head start."

"No," you murmured, absorbing everything he'd just said. "Not now. I want her to enjoy a proper childhood."

"Is that a demand?" Sukuna tilted his head slightly, another method of asserting authority. Yet, after all he'd shared about dropping everything for you, about making love to you, the fear in you started to dissolve bit by bit.

"Yes," you affirmed. "It's a demand."

A small smirk played on Sukuna's lips as he rose from his spot, circled the bed, and settled down beside you, with Nobara resting peacefully on his chest. Summoning all your strength, you turned to run your fingers over your baby's soft cheek and tiny, parted lips.

“She sleeps like you, Mr. Ryomen.”

“Sukuna,” he corrected, his arm covering his eyes as he breathed with a slightly open mouth. “My wife will call me Sukuna.”

Teasingly, you asked, “Is that a demand, Sukuna?”

His arm shifted low, and his reddish-brown eyes softened, stealing your breath. “Only from my wife and daughter.”

You smiled, closing your eyes. “Goodnight, Sukuna.”

In response, he wrapped his strong arm around you, pulling you close to his side, his two girls snuggled against his body.

In the beginning, you knew you didn't belong in the hell Sukuna ruled. Your father's mistakes, pilfering drug shipments and peddling them locally, had sealed both his fate and yours. With thoughts of fleeing the disgrace your father brought upon your family, you had started packing, desperate to escape the clutches of your old man.

The following night, Sukuna and his henchmen barged into your cramped apartment, wreaking havoc on every piece of furniture. Rocking in the corner of your room, Sukuna casted his shadow over you like the God of Death, bathed in your father’s blood.

Crouching down to your eye level, he tipped your chin up, leaving a splotch of blood. He used the collar of your sweater to wipe it away. In a hushed confession, you revealed the hidden drugs under the sink and floorboards, along with your father's buyer list folded in the cereal boxes. Sukuna grinned and ordered his underlings to retrieve the concealed items. Then, the chilling question hung in the air: "Are you going to kill me, too?"

"I'm tempted," Sukuna replied, "but not to kill you." His gaze fixated on your left hand, and he raised it, studying your ring finger. "You will pay for your father's crimes with your life." He held your hand in front of your face. "You will take my last name." His smirk widened, revealing perfect teeth. "Isn't that the cruelest form of death, love?"

Unconsciousness claimed you then, but after seven years of marriage, enduring unimaginable hardships, and finally welcoming a baby into the world, your answer was clear. The true torment wasn't caused by the man you once perceived as a monster but rather by his enemies.

"How am I supposed to know if Mr. Munchkin wants more tea? He's a fucking stuffed toy. Can't talk, you know?"

"Sukuna," you warned, perched on the armrest while busy crocheting baby socks for your little one on the way.

Nobara, wielding a rubber, squeaky hammer, stood up from her seat, giving her father a bonk on the head each time he let out a curse. And you often heard the squeak of the hammer around the house.

Nobara's tiara was slightly askew, frustration evident in her curled lips and bared teeth. She was growing increasingly irritated with her father's lack of understanding about the rules of her tea party. "Mr. Munchkin wants tea, Papa. Give him tea! Give him tea! Give him—"

"Fine, I surrender. Here, you little bastard. Take the whole fu—damn pot." He shoved the plastic teapot towards Mr. Munchkin, a well-loved cat stuffed toy you had gifted Nobara on her last birthday. "Happy?"

"Cup," she insisted, pointing at the tea cup in front of Mr. Munchkin.

Sukuna sighed and poured the water from the kettle into the pink plastic cup.

"Me too," Nobara added, settling back in her kiddie chair. Sukuna had barely taken his seat before she had him on the floor. "Hurry!"

"May I pour for the other toys first, Your Highness?"

"Not toys. Friends."

Sukuna shot you a helpless glare, eliciting a chuckle from you. He filled the table with tea, and Nobara, holding her small cup, clinked it with her father's, followed by her collection of stuffed animals. Sukuna reluctantly mimicked the gesture. Instead of sipping the tea, he downed it like a shot.

“Papa!”

“Sukuna, come on.”

There wasn’t any winning with his girls.

Sukuna reluctantly poured himself another cup, sipping it with an air of royalty that mirrored a princess. Despite his resistance to the make-believe tea party, you couldn't ignore the genuine affection he showed toward his daughter. He would nod attentively when one of the stuffed animals "spoke," laughed along with Nobara, and even beautified himself with a glittering tiara, a feathered pink scarf, and deep purple-painted nails.

Sukuna was, without a doubt, a fantastic father. It came as no surprise that Nobara's first word was 'Brat.'

That night, you kissed your daughter goodnight and tucked her into her bed. Sukuna joked that he’d spent every last bit of his wealth decorating the brat’s room, filling it with the latest toys, and stacking her closet with whatever clothes she laid her finger or eyes on. She was truly the princess of her father’s heart.

"She's asleep," you informed him.

"I'll give her a kiss in a minute. Just need to finish this," Sukuna replied, pouring over his documents.

Letting out a sigh, you shuffled over, rolled back his chair, and settled onto his lap. He continued reading as you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your cheek on his shoulder, peering at him through your lashes.

"I want you," you murmured.

Sukuna paused, lowering his gaze to meet your cheeky smile. "Later."

"It's late."

"I have to finish—" He halted as you began kissing his neck, moving up to his jaw and cheeks, tracing the contours of his face tattoos.

"Please, Sukuna," you whispered near his ear.

How could he refuse you anything when you appeared so stunning, radiating with the joy of expecting another child in your four-month-old belly?

“Take off your robe and get on the bed. Spread your legs for me.” He gave your ass a little smack as you happily skipped away, shedding your clothes and clearing the bed to settle in. With a grin, you opened your legs, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Sukuna stood up from his seat, loosening his robe as he did. He sighed, watching the moisture forming between your legs. Pregnancy seemed to heighten your lusts, and Sukuna was always ready to fulfill your needs.

“What pretty, wet cunt,” he whispered softly, leaning in to kiss your chest, trailing down to your stomach, your hips, your calling clit. 

Over the years, you realized Sukuna enjoyed pleasuring you more than the opposite. He feasted on you like a starved man, whether it happened in the back of the limo, in a guest room during a party, or just minutes before a crucial meeting in his office. He insisted it was his way of relaxing, often pleading with you to spend a full hour on his face as he ate you out and drank every drop of your release. It had turned into a daily routine for him. And for you.

“Oh, Sukuna, yes, yes. Right there—ah!” Your back arched off the mattress when his tongue drove into your hole, flicking and exploring your clamping walls. His mouth was latched to your pussy, sucking it in, his cheeks hollowing rapidly. Your fingers tightened in his hair, hips voluntarily grating against his face, his sharp nose rubbing over your swollen clit. 

Sukuna drew back as you came down with a muted cry behind your hand and lapped at the flow of your juices pouring out of you. His lips shone as he leaned over and gently kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself from his tongue. “If I don’t fuck you now, I will die.” 

“Hurry, then.” 

Sukuna pushed himself inside you, and that first wave of pleasure hit you so strongly that you sank your nails in his back and cried out heavenwards. He groaned and grunted, thrusts growing speed, his plump balls smacking against your ass. You loved that he fucked harder, faster, driving you to the brink of ruination. 

After you'd healed from Nobara's birth, he would always make sure to get at least ten orgasms from you. From midnight to early morning, he'd fuck you in every possible position. But his favorite was always missionary, where he could have his eyes on you, writhing and whimpering beneath him, telling him it’s too much, he's too thick, all while using your heels to draw him in even closer.

Sukuna curled his arm around your waist and sat you up on his lap, thrusting up into you as you coiled yourself around his neck. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your cunt was made for me, love. Your cunt was fucking made for me.” His hand threaded to the back of your head, grasping your hair and drawing your face back so you were looking him in the eyes without wavering, without bowing your head. He needed to know you didn’t fear him when he fucked you like this. It was an unspoken check-in, and when you smiled drunkenly, only then did he let you return to embracing him. 

“Are you close?” you whispered. 

“Not yet. I want to come in your ass.” 

You shivered despite how scalding and sweaty your bodies were. “Do it.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nodded. “Please.” 

Sukuna dragged you off his cock so you could get on all-fours, raising your ass up for him. He’s only ever been in your sacred spot a handful of times but never finished himself inside it. It appeared that tonight you were both a little extra spellbound.

Mounting himself behind you, Sukuna unfurled your ass and spit on his fingers, stroking the puckered hole. He gathered the creamy liquid dripping out of your pussy to lubricate the spot. His middle finger stretched you out, followed by his ring fingers, pushing in and out until he knew for sure you were prepared for him. 

Sukuna’s steel-hard cock pushed into your tiny hole. The sight of it expanding to swallow his girthy size almost made him come right there and then. He started to move in sluggish movement, grabbing onto your waist. His hips cruised, brushing against your ass, making you impatient and push yourself back. 

“Understood.” He chuckled and dug his nails into your skin, dragging out to the tip and shoving himself inside. Your face pressed into your pillows, crying and trembling as he abused your asshole non-stop. “You’re taking me so well, my love. Oh, fuck, fuck.” He rutted into you like a beast, claiming your body, rubbing your clit from the front, spanking your ass, brandishing you over and over again. 

You both snapped in unison. 

Sukuna sagged over your spine as he bucked in every last bit of his sloppy seed. His lips kissed your shoulder blades, holding you up by one arm. Gently, he pulled out, his cock growing floppy until you flipped onto your back, hair sticking to your sweaty, flushed face, belly slightly swollen, your tits larger in size, his release mingled with yours seeping out from your holes. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispered, cupping your face like he didn’t just fuck your soul out of you. That smirk you’d come to love appeared on his lips. You reciprocated back, stretching out your arms so he could lean down and kiss you sweetly on the lips and cheeks and toss in a praise or two for what a good girl you were as he slid into you again, slower and more intimate with his game. “I fucking love you, Y/N.” 

You smiled against his lips that continuously whispered the three beautiful words and said, “I love you, too, Sukuna,” before sealing it with a long, lasting kiss.

[pipthepiper]

okay virgin!viktor is the bane of my existence 😖 i just need to edge him just to see him cry a little

nooo that would be mean right? 👉🏻👈🏻

ミ★ me. too. i need him to look up at me like i’m a goddess and beg me to milk him FUCK. i’m relieved that virgin!vik is no longer only my bane 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ i love this desperate man so fucking much oml

ミ★ 1k words, fem!reader, virgin!viktor, slight m!sub, viktor calls reader mama a few times, begging/whining, handjob to blowjob, orgasm control/denial, dirty talk/language, “good boy”, cum swallowing, deep throating + face fucking, heavy filthy smut.

you know it’s mean — maybe even deplorable — to take so much pleasure in doing something like this. to be so turned on by the way viktor is whimpering beneath you, cock rock hard and leaking, small pleas falling from his lips.

“please, fuck, mmm — ah, fuck — faster,” viktor slurs, hips jerking up to fuck his hot cock into your fist. “gods, s-so close, it’s so good.”

“yeah?” you coo, jerking your hand up and down faster, thumb sliding over his tip each time. it was wet and sticky with thick pre, so much so that it acted as its own form of lube.

“yes, please — shit, please, i-i want to — ahh, fuck —,” viktor couldn’t even form a solid sentence; he was jerking and twitching against your palm, balls undoubtedly aching — and god, his begging was doing something.

“mmhmm, you wanna cum, right, baby?” you teased, relishing in the way his cock throbbed at your words. he nodded mutely and cinched his eyes shut, cheeks flushed so prettily — he looked absolutely yummy.

you jerked your hand faster until his breathing turned ragged and his body trembled, hips pistoning up and moans flooding from his mouth — and then you pulled your hand away completely, and viktor’s eyes snapped open and he looked at you with such confused desperation.

“w-why’d you stop?” he whined, cock still standing up and darkened in color. you smirked at him and ran a teasing hand up his thigh.

“don’t you wanna have a li’l fun, vik?” you prompted, gut stirred up by his panting and shivering. he swallowed and continued to stare at you with those eyes, but intrigue slipped into the haze of arousal, so you continued.

“let’s see how many times i can edge you before you break completely. you can do that f’me, right, vik?” you cooed and plastered on a small pout, rounding your eyes in plea. viktor’s eyes widened but his cock jumped up, betraying how much he actually liked the idea.

viktor nodded and you wrapped your hand around his cock once more, earning a sharp hiss from between his lips — and just like that, the game was on…

… four times. four times you brought viktor to the edge only to rip him away from it, and by now, his cock was flushed an angry red and throbbing.

“please — fuck — hurts, please, jus’ le’me cum, please—!” viktor slurred, eyes teary and forehead soaked in sweat. his entire body was trembling as though being rocked by an earthquake and his voice was hoarse; he was so, so desperate for it.

“aw, can’t you take it one more time?” you edged, hand pumping over his cock almost savagely, pulling sharp, pained whimpers and whines from viktor.

“n-no, please, not again — please, i’ll do anything, need to cum!” viktor begged once more, wet and croaky, eyes wide and blown.

something about how pathetic he sounded struck a chord of mercy within you — it was such a headrush to edge him this way, to have complete control of his pleasure, but in the end, it was meant to feel good. so you relented.

“okay, vik,” you murmured softly, slowing your hand to a mere crawl over his cock. “i’ll make you cum, baby. you’ve been such a good boy. as a treat, i’ll let you fuck my throat ‘til you bust. sound good, baby?”

viktor groaned loudly and his cock throbbed inside your hand, and something that sounded mostly like a “yesh” tumbled from his lips. you couldn’t help but smile. he was so cute.

you withdrew your hand and swallowed him down in one go, gagging slightly when his thick cock split your tonsils apart, and stopped just at his base — viktor didn’t need to be told what to do.

his hands dropped to your head and he held it in place as he began to piston his hips, fucking his cock into your mouth with slick schlurps and squelches.

“oh, fuuuuck — yes, shit. so fucking good, mama, fuck, nnnh — so close,” viktor blathers as his hips smack into you, dick shoved so far down your throat it hurts, beating into it over and over as he chases his high; he’s animalistic, provoked and insatiable, and it’s so fucking good.

your cunt leaks into your panties, pooling and cooling against the fabric — your clit is throbbing, your throat being used so viscerally too hot for you to even comprehend.

“thank you, fuck, thank you f’this. throat ‘s so good. gonna cum in it, mama.” viktor whines, hips picking up and thrusts turning shallow and quick — he was throbbing inside your throat, heavy balls twitching, so close to erupting.

you’re letting out small moans and whimpers around his cock, teary eyes glued to the expression of pure pleasure twisting his features. you want him to cum down your throat so badly.

“f-fuck — nghhh, i-i’m coming, fuck!” viktor growls out and shoves hard into your throat once, twice, before bottoming out and stilling — your breath is cut off as his dick splurts ropes down your throat, thick salty cum shooting straight down to your stomach.

a few seconds later and he still hasn’t stopped twitching.

“shiiiit, i-i can’t stop c-coming, oh my gods,” he whines as he thrusts shallowly, milking himself with your mouth. your vision is starting to become spotty from the lack of oxygen, so you tap his thigh rapidly.

it pulls viktor out of the trance he was in and he quickly pulls himself from your throat. you gasp lightly and sputter as he apologizes, his voice thick and wet.

“‘m so sorry, i didn’t mean to,” he blathers, and you have to hold a hand up to stop him. if you didn’t, he’d be apologizing for an hour. at least.

“it’s fine, vik.” you choke out, throat sore and scratchy. your heart is racing slightly, but that heat in your gut hasn’t dimmed in the slightest — and your clit is aching, body so desperate for an orgasm of its own. so you clamber on top of viktor and sit on his thighs.

“it’s my turn to cum now, vik.” you coo. “lay down and lemme use that pretty face, yeah?

[hannieehaee]

BED CHEM

18+ / mdi

summary: when chan's friends decided to start a betting pool on how long it'd take him to lose his virginity at the start of college, none of them expected him to remain a virgin all the way to senior year. desperate to prove them wrong, chan goes to his best friend in hopes you'll take him out of his misery (and maybe fall for him in the process) OR when chan uses a stupid bet as an excuse to get his pretty bestie in his bed.

content: virgin!chan, f2l!chan, sub!chan, mutual pining, college au, chan is characterized as a fucking loser but what else is new, some will they wont they, the rest of svt bully chan, afab reader, smut, dry humping, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 11k

a/n: i wrote this so long ago i don't even remember what it's about #oops

masterlist | patreon

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not a virgin!"

— lied Chan for the nth time.

"It's been years and it's still not believable. Plus, Vernon told us you were whining about it at Soonie's party last Friday," responded Jeonghan nonchalantly.

"Vernon!", Chan turned to him, betrayal in his eyes.

His whines were only met with chuckles from all the other men surrounding him, most of which were nursing some different variant of an alcoholic beverage as they lounged around uselessly.

Most weekends were spent like this.

Chan had the misfortune of being the youngest in his large thirteen member friend group, one which was also well known throughout school due to a few of his friends' reputations. Chan, however, did not live up to that idea.

Unlike all his other friends, — well known to be either heartthrobs, or at least, you know, not virgins — Chan found himself as an outlier.

On the outside, he may have easily emulated that same popular and charismatic persona all his friends held and lived by, but he truly had no idea what he was doing. Sure, he knew himself to be likable and attractive (at least he liked to think so), but his sexual prowess was still very much below average (is anything lower than zero?).

Luckily for him, this was not known by anyone outside of his friend group. To everyone else, Chan was as pursued as his older friends such as Mingyu and Wonwoo, except it was all a lie.

Hell, even you, being his best friend since middle school, were blissfully unaware of his virginal state. And to be quite honest, this was something he wanted to keep that way.

You see, Chan had hopes of airing out his not-so-discreet crush on you one day ('maybe not today, but someday!', he'd tell himself). And the knowledge of him being a loser virgin would probably not help matters when that day came.

His virginity was such a hot topic among his friends that a running bet had tormented him since his first weekend at university. With all his friends being merely one year older, he was the victim of constant teasing as they watched him crash and burn any time a girl showed interest in him, only for him to psyche himself out of actually getting down to anything.

His constant failures only prompted more teasing throughout the years, especially in the form of Jeonghan and Seungkwan berating him about losing his virginity and confessing his pathetic crush on you. Sometimes Dokyeom and Mingyu would join in, insisting he could kill two birds with one stone if he'd only play his cards right.

The mere thought never failed to make Chan blush. To think of you in that context always had a physical effect on him. His palms would become clammy, his face would redden, and sadly, his hardness would make an appearance.

But he'd be lying if he hadn't wanted to will the thought into existence.

The two of you never really spoke about such things, but he was still painfully aware of how opposite of him you were in that aspect. It was no secret to him that your virginity was long gone. To his knowledge, you'd spent your freshman and sophomore years basking in all the attention you received, landing in a few beds in the process. You had this charisma that Chan envied (and was simultaneously extremely attracted to). In your junior year, however, you'd calmed down a bit, spending your Fridays nights cuddled up with Chan in the corner of one of his friends' frat parties rather than out on your own.

"Okay, so are you giving up? You're losing the bet?," Jeonghan piled on, calling Chan's attention away from his internal monologue.

"Giving up on what! I never participated on that bet. You guys came up with it to bully me!," he responded, exasperated.

Joshua rounded the couch to take a seat on the arm of it, patting Chan's shoulder condescendingly as he sipped at his beer with a chuckle.

"We could set you up with someone, you know?", he suggested, knowing Chan would deny his suggestion but trying anyways.

"N-no. I don't want someone to fuck me out of pity," Chan grumbled.

"And that'd be cheating. We're not supposed to help him," added Vernon.

"You guys made up rules?!"

"Shh. The adults are talking," tsk'd Seungkwan.

"You're still a junior. You have time to lose it before graduating still," aided Wonwoo from his side of the room.

"We decided against that. It has to be before we graduate or else it doesn't count," said one of the many seniors in the room.

"Okay, maybe queue me in on the rules if I'm going to be the main character of this bet, guys," grumbled Chan, giving up.

"That's still four months til graduation, Channie. C'mon, it'll be good for you. Maybe you can find a girlfriend and then you won't be all alone after we graduate."

"Yeah, man. Why do you have no friends your own age?" poked Mingyu, chuckling along with the rest of the seniors currently picking at a defeated Chan.

"It looks like I have no friends at all."

Vernon laughed, getting up to sit next to a slumped-back Chan, completely defeated on the couch. He patted his back, though unlike Joshua, he seemed to do it in solidarity.

"Listen, man. Just ask Y/N out. She likes you. We all see it. Just be a man and ask her out. We've told you before — two birds, one stone," encouraged Vernon.

Chan sat back up at the mention of your name, now having you back in his mind.

Should he?

Should he throw all caution to the wind and go on a limb? He'd sensed some more-than-friends vibes from you before, but he'd never been sure enough to actually try and go after you.

Annoyed and confused, Chan stood up with a huff, heading for the door before turning around to grumble at his friends.

"You all suck!," he began his tipsy rant, "I'm going to go out there and prove you all wrong. I'm going to lose my virginity ten times harder than any of you ever did," he declared, his intoxicated brain not realizing he wasn't making much sense, "And then you'll all owe me that stupid betting pool. You'll see," he went to point at Jeonghan, "Specially you!"

Jeonghan gaped at him in amusement, which only provoked further laughter from all the drunk men who had already been laughing at a pent-up Chan. Chan made his exit with this last statement, annoyed enough to disavow his friends for the rest of the night.

Still tipsy and with frustration charging through his veins, Chan made his decision. He knew his next destination for the night and marched there decisively.

"Chan? What are you doing here? Hurry, come in! Guys aren't allowed in here after hours," you ushered him in quickly, taking a look outside to check for any onlookers before locking the door behind you.

In the meantime, Chan turned around, ready to face you once you'd ensured yourselves some privacy. On his walk here, he'd sobered up enough, but his decisive demeanor somehow remained. He had one task tonight and he was going to fulfill it no matter what.

What task was that? He was going to beg you to put him out of his misery, hopefully obtaining an annoyed affirmation from you and ridding himself of his lack of experience once and for all — and also finally getting to have a taste of you, but that was besides the point!

And then that all his courage died the longer you stood there, staring at him expectantly.

But he couldn't back down now. He needed to prove a point, both to the guys and to himself. Also, he was growing quite fed up of his predicament. There was only so long a guy like Chan could go without the touch of a woman, and 22 years seemed to be the limit for him.

"I, uh, I wanted to ask you for a favor," he mumbled, eyes unable to look into your own.

"At 3 in the morning? Was it urgent?"

"Yes!", he found himself quipping with far more energy he'd meant to.

You eyed him curiously.

"Okay, what is it?"

Well.

That was a difficult question.

But this was the moment of truth.

He needed to come out and say it. Just get done with it.

Any moment now.

It was just like a bandaid.

A single moment of bravery and then-

"Chan!"

Oh, right.

He huffed, nervous, annoyed, frustrated, all of the above, before mustering the courage to spit it out.

"Ineedyoutotakemyvirginity," he mumbled out all at once.

"Please tell me you didn't just say what I think you just said."

"What?! You actually understood that?"

"Why would you say it if you didn't want me to hear you?"

"Yeah, but like. How can you be sure I said what you think I said?", this was a lost battle and he knew it.

You were his best friend. You were fluent on his drunken rambles, his annoyed mumbles, his overexcited speeches. Of course you could understand what he said, no matter how mumbled or quickly he'd said it.

"Chan."

"Okay, fine! Want me to say it so bad, I'll say it."

He took a short pause, taking two steps towards you before taking your hands in his own and looking to you with pleading eyes.

"Will you please take my virginity?"

"Since when are you a virgin?"

"As much as I want to take that as a compliment, I'm pretty sure you're implying I'm a slut," he frowned at you.

"God, Chan, you- Come on. Come sit with me," you pulled him by the hand, dragging him over to your couch and taking a seat with him.

Your body faced his own with complete ease and confidence while his remained slightly avoidant of yours. He was slightly faced towards you, but it'd be clear to any spectator that his body language lacked any confidence, especially considering his eyes were facing your lap rather than your face.

"Explain," you instructed, lacking any real emotion in your voice. If anything, you sounded annoyed — something which, to be fair, was not unusual between you and Chan.

"Uh," he started, scratching his head, "Do I have to?"

"Chan!"

"Okay, fine!"

Chan took a breath, body leaning against the back of the couch with a groan and resulting in a slouch of his back. He continued to make no eye contact with you, face now in his hands as he attempted to rub the embarrassment out of his eyes.

"I might've sworn to the guys that I'd lose my virginity," he groaned.

"Sworn how ..?"

"There was a bet involved," he grimaced to himself.

"Chan, you idiot," you chastised, "I didn't even know you were a virgin."

"How could you not?"

Before he could hear your response, Chan suddenly felt a ruffle of the couch. Pulling his hands away from his face, you forced him to face you, now sitting even closer to him on the couch.

"Have you seen your friends? No offense, but they're all kinda ... slutty," he could hear the humor in your voice and knew exactly what you meant. His twelve elders were never shy about their promiscuity.

"Plus, you're always flirting with me. I thought this was something you did with any girl you wanted to sleep with," you added nonchalantly after.

Well, you were half right.

That was something he did with girls he wanted to sleep with. Except you were the only girl he did it to. Because you were the only girl he wanted to sleep with.

A slippery slope.

Chan was his own damn enemy.

"I, uhm, I'm shy around other girls," was his lame excuse.

"So, what, you want me to take it from you?"

"Well, it'd be helpful."

He proceeded to stare at you with what you usually called 'dumb boba eyes,' knowing they had a tendency of breaking you down if he used them just right.

"Dude," was all your response, deadpan as per usual.

"Listen! I'll pay you!", he chirped exasperated, not realizing how his words could be interpreted.

"You want to pay me for sex? Walk that one back for me, Channie."

"Oh, uh, yeah, I take it back. My bad," he couldn't help but flush at the way you laughed at him after he took it back.

"Chan. You don't have to lose it if you don't want to, you know?"

Great, now you were going to comfort him. Chan usually loved how in tune with his emotions you were, but what he needed right now was for you to defile him.

"I know! I just- I just want to. Please? I- It won't get in the way of our friendship, I promise," he went to grab onto your hands, attempting to convince you and himself of his certainty, "It's not sudden either. I've thought about asking you before."

"Why me, though? It's not that I'm saying no," you went to say when Chan was about to interrupt, "I just don't get why now and why me."

Because he was in love with you and because a year from now you'd both be graduated, no longer in each other's constant vicinity. That's when he'd lose his chance altogether.

"Because I know you and I trust you. You'd be nice to me," he allowed himself to be a big vulnerable around you as per usual.

"I'm always mean to you."

"Shut up, I'm making a point here," he disregarded you, "Plus, don't tell me you've never thought about it."

You laughed, tilting your head to the side with a giggle.

"Maybe," you mumbled between chuckles.

Oh. Okay.

Chan would just have to take this confirmation and store it for later.

"So, what do you say?" he looked at you expectantly.

"I think you're the bane of my existence, but what else is new?"

He pinched at your leg like a petulant child who was being denied of a treat, "Answer the question!"

"God, you're even more annoying as a virgin," you chastised, squeezing your eyes closed with a groan before actually responding, "Fine!"

His head turned to you like a magnet, expression completely dumbfounded.

"Wait, what?"

"Are you really trying to get me to change my mind?"

"N-no! Just- Shit, are you serious?", he scoot over closer to you, invading your personal space in the same manner a child would.

"I mean. I kinda feel bad for you. Plus, I've always thought you were pretty cute, so why not?", you said in a way far too casual for Chan to compute.

Was this good? I mean, you did call him cute. But did this mean this would be completely meaningless to you. Would that mean he had absolutely no chance with you past this one instance?

"Can you stop thinking so loudly?", you interrupted him.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to comprehend this. It's a big moment in a man's life when he finally gets his cherry popped."

"Please never say that again," you laughed.

He chuckled with you, still a bit dumbfounded but overall content with the unexpected turn this night had had. His face must've shown the turmoil of thoughts bubbling up in his head, as you suddenly scoot even closer, putting your hand on his leg in a comforting manner before speaking up.

"What, changed your mind already?", you were joking, but there was still kindness in your eyes.

"It's not- it's not that. Just nervous, I guess," he mumbled.

"Tell me about it," you encouraged.

"I, uh, what if ... what if it's disappointing for you?"

"Well, luckily for you, we're best friends. I'll guide you, if you want. What matters most is that it's good for you."

"Yeah, but, but I want to make you feel good."

Careful, Chan. Might give yourself away on accident.

"Chan, I've seen you dance. There's no way you won't make me feel good," you chuckled almost to yourself.

Oh, well, that's-

Chan felt himself getting a bit flustered.

Did you look at him like that when he danced?

"Oh, I- uh, thanks," he managed to mumble.

You must've not caught onto how awkward he felt, as you made no comment about it as you usually would.

"So," you dragged the 'o,' "when do you wanna start?"

"Oh! Uh, I don't- I don't really know. I didn't think I'd get this far."

"Did you think I'd say no?"

"I'm still not sure I'm not dreaming."

You giggled at this, "I can hit you, if it'd help."

"I always thought I'd be way smoother at this," he half groaned, half chuckled, sitting back against the couch while you knelt on it, facing him.

At least he felt more relaxed now. This had gone way better than he ever thought, not that he ever even considered asking you to take his virginity before tonight.

"So, my question?", you pushed again, scooting closer. Chan was beginning to fear you were suggesting something.

"Oh, uh, well-"

Before he knew it, you were even closer, knees pressed to his side as you leaned your body towards him, confident body language while his own reeked of awkward alertness.

"How far have you gone before?", there was a smile on your face. Not a happy one, though. It seemed more satisfied than anything. Kind of as if you had a higher ground (which you did).

Chan's body couldn't help but lean back as you got closer. It's not that he didn't want your touch, he very much did. The issue at hand was just how deprived of it he was. Having never felt such touch before, the mere thought of it could very well be his early undoing. He needed to mentally prepare for such a thing.

"Well, uh," he scratched the back of his head, avoiding eye contact, "I've kissed a few girls before ..."

"And?"

"That's, uhm, that's kind of it," he mumbled.

The avoidance of eye contact became harder now that you were closer in proximity, but he continued to attempt it.

"Really? Only kissing? Uh, what kind of kisses were they?"

"W-what do you mean?", he knew exactly what you meant, he was just an idiot.

But how was he supposed to tell you that in his entire twenty-two years of life he'd only ever shared a few short-lived kisses. There was nothing in his repertoire of experiences to write home about, much less to tell his best friend.

You half-muffled a giggle, now invading all his personal space, "What type of kiss, Channie?", you repeated.

"It was just- they were just regular kisses, uh, you know?," he gulped.

He couldn't help it when his body tilted a bit to face you. Chan still felt unsure and nervous, but his body did not lie to him. If anything happened, he'd welcome it despite the risk of embarrassing himself.

"I'm not sure I'm understanding what you mean," you whispered, leaning even closer.

Within a mere passing second, one of your hands went to his chin, tilting his head towards your own before finally invading the entirety of him. Your eyes were hooded and glued to his lips, a pleased smile still on your own lips.

You pressed a quick peck to his lips before pulling back, causing a pathetic little whimper to leave Chan at the surprise.

"Was it like this?", you asked against his lips pulling away for a mere second before pressing your lips to his own once again, this time for longer.

While the first kiss had barely been there, the second one was anything but shy. This kiss evolved very quickly, with your tongue entering his mouth and tangling with his own. Chan attempted to follow your lead, but was initially very awkward. His teeth clanked against your own, his tongue was too shy and then too excited. You had to silently lead him and teach him the right way to kiss you, eventually resulting in what Chan could very embarrassingly describe as an orgasmic kiss.

He whimpered when you finally pulled away, lips pathetically chasing your own up until you nibbled at his lower lip with a hum.

"Or like this?", you went to ask a light-headed Chan.

"H-huh?"

"Ever kissed someone like that?", you giggled.

"Oh, uh, n-no, I just- no," he stammered his way to his answer.

"Well, glad to be your first," you winked, finally sitting back down next to him.

"Are you- uh, I mean, was it good?", he found himself asking.

You giggled again, unnerving him once more.

"Yes, Channie, it was really good. Don't worry, I'll let you know if there's anything you need to work on."

This made him nervous, but it was preferable, right? Even though he hoped he'd somehow be a natural at blowing your mind, he was glad you'd be the person leading him. The fear of causing disappointment or embarrassing himself diminished tenfold at knowing it was you who'd be with him through this process.

However, his undying crush on you remained in the back of his mind (and sometimes the middle, front, and, well, everywhere in his mind). Chan knew this would become a problem the very second you touched him. Hell, it was already a problem after just one kiss. His mind was already going in circles, attempting to create scenarios in which those kisses were a regular occurrence between you.

"When do you want to start?", you interrupted his thoughts.

The slight chub forming in his pants was begging him to tell you that it was imminent you started now. However, he wanted to at least not smell like frat house when he was finally deflowered.

"W-when, uhm, when do you want to do it?", he mentally face-palmed. He could not be smooth about this even with a gun to his head.

Once more, you chuckled at him. You appeared to greatly enjoy his awkwardness around the topic.

"How about Sunday? I be completely prepared for you. To make your first time special and all, you know?"

Chan did not want to begin imagining what you meant by that. His mind was already scrambled over the results of tonight's events.

All he could do was numbly nod in agreement at you.

"You know, I think this is gonna be very fun," you hummed with a giggle, pinching at his cheek teasingly.

You got up from the couch after that, too nonchalant for the life-changing kiss that had just happened all while Chan continued to process it. That kiss was only the beginning, he realized. On Sunday he'd get to see your naked body, feel it up, have your breasts pressed up against his chest, your wetness will land on his lap, your cunt will wrap around his-

" —Channie?" you called out from the kitchen, head peeking out the doorframe just moments later.

Chan shook his head to rid himself of any of the unseemly thoughts he'd just been having before asking you to repeat yourself.

"I asked if you're staying the night. I'll make you some hot chocolate before we go to sleep," you asked, though it clearly wasn't a question. You had already deciding he was staying, not that he was complaining.

"You know, all that sugar before sleeping can't be good for you," he tsk'd, following you to the kitchen.

"Shut up. You're not my nutritionist, you dweeb."

"This is why you never fall asleep before 3AM."

Despite his chastising, he aided you in the making of the drinks, grabbing the whipped cream from the fridge after you'd boiled the milk and poured the liquid into the matching cups he'd gotten for you last christmas.

"You expect me to take health advice from the guy who showed up tipsy at my dorm room at 2:45 in the morning? Just come to bed," then you walked off, drinks in hand as you settled them on each bedside table and made yourself comfortable.

Ah, right. Sharing a bed.

Chan had momentarily forgotten that you were in a point in your friendship where sharing a bed was as normal as breathing. It had been a while since you'd been able to have a sleepover, but Chan felt particularly awkward about this instance in specific.

You see, before tonight, any sleepover was had with nothing but platonic thoughts in mind (at least for the most part). Now, Chan had to sleep next to you while knowing you were likely thinking about how you'd rob him of his innocence just a few days later.

And him? He'd be thinking about how well you fit in his arms. How well other parts of you would fit with his own.

Within minutes, Chan found himself clad in some pjs he'd left over at your place after the endless times he'd crashed with you. Meanwhile, you were already in bed, whining at him from your place under the sheets for him to move his ass and cuddle with you.

Yeah, Chan was basically a dead man walking.

Regardless, he couldn't leave you waiting for too long. He never could.

"Chan! Hurry, I wanna go to sleep!", you exaggerated your whining a bit for the effect, he could tell.

"God, just say you're in love with me already," he whined back as he made his way to your bed and joined you under the sheets.

"Stop projecting."

Those were your last sleepy words before nuzzling your way to his side, falling asleep almost immediately while Chan sat awake with your head on his chest. One of his hands absentmindedly toyed with your hair as you slept, with his mind completely filled with contemplations about tonight's events.

Chan knew it had been an idiotic, spur of the moment decision to show up to your dorm room tonight. He was well aware of the regrets he'd have if he actually went through with it, knowing there'd be no way for him to feel platonically about your relationship after the fact. Hell, any platonic feelings he had about you were already dying day by day, and that was just due to your mere existence!

Sadly, Chan's desire for you ran deeper than his ability to think critically.

Jeonghan had been right, after all. Maybe this was the way to go. It'd be shooting two birds with one stone, like he'd said. After this, he would maybe finally find the confidence to find another girl, get over you (despite how unlikely he found that to be), and not have to worry about getting rejected for being a loser virgin, as he liked to call himself.

All Chan needed to do now was enjoy your embrace and mentally (and physically) prepare himself for you this coming Sunday. In just a few days, you'd be changing his life.

The following morning was not much for the books. You had an early shift at the supermarket you worked at near school, so you left pretty quickly despite it being a Saturday.

Meanwhile, Chan stayed in bed for a while longer, mind still fuzzy from last night. When you'd given him a kiss on the cheek as you usually did when bidding him goodbye, he began malfunctioning at the memory of the steamier kiss shared between you the night prior.

He only allowed himself a short time to go over last night's events in his head again before finally deciding to leave your dorm room. As a frequent visitor, he had a pair of keys which he used to lock the door behind him, taking his dirty clothes from last night with him and heading over to his own dorm.

Sadly for him, he had the misfortune of sharing a room with a nosy Kim Mingyu, who began berating him about his whereabouts last night after storming out. Along with him were Vernon and Jeonghan, who he recalled being annoyed at last night in specific, though he didn't remember exactly why.

It was extremely uncommon for Chan and Mingyu's dorm room to be empty of at least one other member of their friend group, but out of all times in which Chan wished he could be alone, today was the biggest instance. Except that even alone, Chan knew he'd have to deal with their teasing at one point or the other.

What was even worse, however, was his stupid decision to confide in them with what had gone down last night. They were his friends, after all.

Their reactions were exactly as expected, going from shock to laughter to mockery and eventually landing on a weird demonstration of understanding.

"Well, I guess this was the best course of action, all things considered," hummed Vernon as he rummaged through the mini-fridge Mingyu had gotten a few weeks prior.

"Dude, you're an idiot. Good job," Jeonghan snickered at him, offering up a high-five Chan vehemently denied. Mingyu responded to it in his name.

"C'mon, man. You should be happy! Isn't this what you wanted? You'll finally rid yourself of your virginity and bag your crush. What could possibly go wrong?"

Chan couldn't help but glare and at Mingyu in complete silence. Vernon's snort at the interaction was what brought him out of it.

"Dude, how is this a win? She's only sleeping with me out of pity. Plus, it's going to be so fucking embarrassing when I nut in my pants the second she lets me see her boobs!", Chan whined, completely exasperated.

But he didn't stop there.

"And what even happens after this? Am I just going to be stuck in the friendzone? I'd rather not have her at all than have her once and have it go nowhere. I know me, I'll never get over it," he let himself fall back on his bed, groaning at his predicament.

His friends continued to lounge in his room, at some point even turning on a console to play and not really paying much mind to his dramatics, though still providing sufficient feedback for his situation.

"Okay, then call it off," challenged Jeonghan.

Chan sat up to stare at his friend, not surprised to find him on his couch, eating his food, yet still finding entertainment in his misery.

"Well, I- I don't-"

"See! You want this. Just let yourself have something good, Channie. Wouldn't you rather your first time be with the girl of your dreams rather than with some random?"

"Yeah, my first time sucked. I'd pick Y/N over the girl I lost it to. It was so awkward," Vernon physically shuddered, "Also, this is a step in the right direction, if you really think about it."

Chan ignored the allusion to you and Vernon in that context, choosing to retain the very little sanity he had left in him.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think she'd sleep with you just for the fun of it. We're friends too and she just doesn't seem the type. I think she might like you back and is just using this as an excuse," theorized Vernon.

Before Chan could deny his assertion, Mingyu clapped his hands as if he'd discovered something grand, his mouth in an 'O' shape at Vernon's theory.

"Dude, you're so right," Mingyu agreed dumbly, "Wasn't she the one to start the kiss? Dude, she like-likes you."

"Of course she like-likes him. Anyone with eyes can see it," interrupted Jeonghan, "This idiot just needs to play his cards right and he'll be virgin-less and with a girlfriend by Monday morning."

"Easier said than done," grumbled Chan.

"No, it's pretty easy, actually. You're just an idiot," Jeonghan's statement was met with agreement from the other boys in the room, leading Chan to groan again.

"She said she was going to prepare something for me. What ... what does it mean when a girl says that?", he asked with a bit of apprehension in his voice.

Chan felt like he was violating some sort of secret between you by sharing all this with the guys, but he also did not want to make a complete idiot of himself when he finally got a chance with you — putting all context around it aside. So he opted to try and gauge to see if his friends could give him any type of useful advice.

"Oh, god, she's gonna eat you alive," Vernon chuckled, earning a similar reaction from the other two boys.

"What does that mean?", Chan was afraid to ask.

"He means she's going to rock your world," snickered Jeonghan.

Their responses were sort of absentminded by nature, seeing as they had at some point turned all their attention to the old Xbox Wonwoo bad recently handed down to Chan. They were still lucid enough to amplify Chan's anxieties, though.

"Okay, that gives me nothing."

"God, Chan, what they mean is that she wants you and she's going to make this a good experience for you. She's probably dolling herself up for you and getting you fancy flavored condoms or some shit. Stop overthinking it," grumbled Mingyu as he hacked at his controller, not even facing Chan once as he said so.

Chan felt himself falter at Mingyu's comment. He wasn't sure what to do with this information. Were you really making yourself pretty for him? Chan felt that was completely unnecessary, I mean, god, seeing you in your tiny pajamas last night had been more than enough for him to grow a chub unprovoked.

Should he do something too? Was there any prep he needed to do in order to please you? Maybe he should ask his friends to see if-

"Before you think about it, do not do anything stupid in preparation for it. Just let her take care of it. I know it's your first time, but as a guy you should focus on it feeling good for her," Mingyu scolded precautiosly, "She'll know what to do, just do whatever she asks you to."

Chan's mouth closed before it could even open, nodding to both himself and Mingyu in affirmation.

The conversation seemed to lull out there, with his friends still giving occasional feedback but with Chan checking out at some point due to his anxieties for what was to come.

Despite their advice, Chan decided that he'd at least hit some online forums to do some last minute research on how to optimize your pleasure despite his lack of experience. Along with that, he made a quick stop at a Target nearby to stock up on aftershave (despite not growing any facial hair), some cologne you'd once mentioned you liked on him, some condoms (just in case), some of your favorite snacks, a few aftercare products he saw listed on Reddit, and a few other amenities he thought might be useful.

At some point during the day you'd texted him letting him know at what time you'd be expecting him at your place, instructing him that all he needed was an overnight bag and to make sure his stamina would be up to par with your own (a comment he was sure you'd said in jest but had sweat dripping down his neck).

After having packed the stuff he'd bought in his overnight bag, he decided to call it a day and go to sleep to be well-rested for what he was sure would become the best day of his life.

What he felt was a mixture of jitters and dread. One side of him was overly excited to not only lose his virginity but to also finally be able to have you in a way he'd dreamed of for years. However, the other side of him dreaded the possibility of disappointing you and embarrassing himself. That, and knowing that this would be a once in a lifetime experience and that he'd have to live the rest of your friendship thinking of this moment knowing it'd never happen again.

These thoughts invaded his mind for a little while before he had to retort to some sleepy tea and some melatonin to ensure he'd maintain his energy for tomorrow as instructed by you.

Chan had woken up with a mission.

After all the research he'd done online, he might've gone a little overboard with the superstitions behind his preparation, but being overly prepared did no harm, right?

It had all begun with a very meticulous shower, ensuring he was cleaner than he'd been in his entire life. He'd even gone as far as using essential oils with your favorite scents to attain a smell he knew you'd enjoy. That, paired with his cologne had him confident you'd at least be happy with both his appearance and aroma.

He'd even gone as far as preparing himself a smoothie with a healthy mixture of fruits he'd come to learn would aid to his taste. He was slightly iffy about this fact, but decided against asking his friends about it to avoid any further teasing — they'd all been spamming his phone with good luck messages already.

A few hours were killed as he paced back and forth in his room, passing by the mirror every so often to fix his hair in order for it to be as perfect for you as possible. Hell, he'd even stopped by a flower shop to get you some tulips as some sort of token of his appreciation for ... for your pussy? He had no reason for it, it just felt right to get you flowers.

Your meeting was meant to be at seven, which gave Chan the impression that you'd probably spend all night at it ... The thought had him shuddering every hour that passed by as he waited.

When the time finally arrived, Chan felt extremely out of place as he stood outside of your apartment, flowers and overnight bag in hand as he pondered when to knock on your door. It was 6:58PM, was it too early? Should he have arrived a bit after seven? Would you think he was a loser for being so punctual, or for having brought flowers and snacks for you?

Okay, fuck. He needed to chill. You were his best friend. You already knew the most embarrassing things about him and he knew yours, there was really no reason to be this anxious or to feel inadequate in your presence. He needed to just man up and take anything you were prepared to give him.

When he finally ended his internal monologue, it became 7:01PM, which he thought a good enough time to finally knock on your door.

But he was beat to it by you, as per usual, as you suddenly showed up on the other side of the now open door, laughing at him as you always did for some reason. Not that he didn't enjoy it. He had gotten used to most of his friends laughing at him, that was sort of his goal most of the time.

"Are you planning on knocking any time soon?", you berated him in jest.

"How'd you-"

"The peephole, you dumbass," you giggled before pulling him in, seemingly ignoring the nerves radiating off him.

Once inside, Chan was able to take in what you were wearing, or more like what you weren't wearing.

In front of him, you stood with in nothing but a floor-length robe, though it was clear to him your hair and makeup had been done to perfection, with matching nails you hadn't had last time he'd seen you.

Fuck, he was terrified to find out what you were hiding under there.

"Dude, stop that. You're overthinking this," you scolded him, "Here, let's go to my room, gimme your bag."

One of your hands held onto the bag while the other grabbed onto his own as you led him over to your room.

Before he could make any quip or fun comment to alleviate his nerves, his attention was taken up by the brand new decor in your room. It wasn't anything too fancy or breathtaking, but the implication was enough to knock his breath out of his lungs.

Your bed was partially undone, with what Chan knew were your favorite sheets (as you'd berated him about the one time he'd laid on your bed with his shoes on), the lighting was best described as sensual, not too dark but dark enough to provide a lustful vibe, mostly provided by some dimmed fairy lights and a few candles here and there.

"You like? I didn't wanna be too cliche, but I thought you'd appreciate the atmosphere," you laughed when you noticed him mutely eyeing his surroundings.

"Y-yeah, thanks. Honestly, you're kind of making me nervous."

"Shut up, you'll be fine. What'd you bring?", you asked as you rummaged through his bag.

He thought about stopping you, but you were too stubborn for it to work. You were already pulling things out of it, giggling at some of its contents. Chan had to hold back a physical wince when you pulled out the condoms and lube he'd packed just in case.

"Flavored condoms. You're a man of taste, Lee Chan," you giggled, "You didn't need to bring anything, you know. I have everything we need."

You decided to ignore his bag now, instead walking over to him and sitting him at the edge of your bed, taking a seat next to him and turning to face him.

"I know you're nervous, but this really isn't as nerve-wracking as you think. It's usually worse for the girls. All you really have to do is sit there. It'll be fun for you regardless."

"But I want it to be fun for you too," he practically whined.

Chan already knew this would be a good experience for him no matter what. God, seeing you dolled up for him was already eternal spank bank material for him. The kiss a few days ago? He'd jerked one out to that mere bit of contact this same morning when he took a shower. His pleasure had never been something he worried about. It was making this good for you (and hopefully making you fall for him in the process) that he was wracking at his brain for.

"God, Chan. It will be fun for me, are you serious? You're such a people pleaser, there's no way that doesn't translate over to sex. Plus, you're hot. That in itself makes the experience ten times better than usual."

Hot? You wanted to kill him. That much was already obvious to Chan.

"So, when do you wanna start this, Channie?", you asked as if it was nothing.

"What, uh, what exactly are we going to do?"

"Ever watched porn, Chan? You have to get me wet first. We need some foreplay before you can put it in. Maybe we can just start by kissing like last time? God, it sounds so lame when I say it out loud, just get over here," you grumbled by the end, grabbing him by the shoulder to make him face you better.

Despite asking him to come closer, you were the one to take initiative and straddle him as he sat on the bed, leading his hesitant hands to hold onto your covered hips. Chan gulped at this, fingers instinctively squeezing at your hips as you leaned in closer.

"Don't overthink it," were your last mumbled words before closing the gap.

The kiss began soft and shy, almost as if it were your first. It progressed into open mouthed kisses up until the point your tongue introduced wetness to it, encouraging Chan to do the same. Similarly to last time, he was awkward about it at first, but your guidance got him comfortable enough to reciprocate your kiss.

"You're good at this, Channie," you mumbled, not giving him a chance to reply with anything but a moan.

Your hands were exploring him, unlike his own static ones. You played with his hair, toyed with the collar of his shirt, even unbuttoning the first few buttons, caressed at his cheeks and jaw. You had fun mapping him out while he remained stagnant and shy.

"Can I take this off?", you asked gesturing to his shirt, hands already fiddling with the leftover buttons.

All he could do was nod numbly as he stared up at you, gulping when your hands expertly did as you'd said. Your hands proceeded to push it off his shoulders, feeling up the skin of his chest with your cold hands.

"You're so strong, Channie, so pretty," you mumbled almost entranced as you felt the strong muscle on his torso. Your lips didn't leave him for long as you did, constantly reconnecting with his in open-mouthed kisses that were making him dizzy.

"Take off your pants for me, Channie?", you asked in a tone sweeter than Chan had ever heard from you before. Sure, you were probably the nicest out of all his friends, but your tone was slightly winded and soft in a way that made him shudder at the mere sound.

A few moments later, you got up, moving Chan's hands away from your hips (to his misery) and giving him space to get up and quickly remove his pants, sitting back down on his boxers as his hands insisted on pulling you back to his lap. He hissed a bit when he felt your weight back on his hardness.

"Fuck, you're big. Didn't feel like sharing that bit of information with your best friend?"

Chan could only groan at your comment, both in annoyance and hornyness. You were incredibly infuriating to him in all the best ways, specially as you pressed up your weight against his hardness and humped at him once to test the waters. Drawing another grunt from him, you giggled, losing the gap between you again.

The kissing continued for a while, and Chan had no complaints. If this was meant to be a learning experience, then he was learning a lot from you. As time went by, he felt less and less shy about the pants and moans he'd release against your lips as you sucked at his tongue. His hands remained mostly shy, but would at some points reach up to your back to pull you closer and then make their way back down to the meat of your hips.

Things became slightly problematic when you suddenly decided to begin moving your hips.

It was barely-there movement at first, but that only lasted a few moments. It progressed into full-on dry humping when Chan least expected it, catching him off guard at how good it already felt. Pushing him to fully lay down on the bed, you repositioned yourself to fuck yourself against him in a way that had him choking on his own tongue.

"F-fuck, wait," he rasped, hands digging into your hips in a lame attempt to stop you while knowing it was the last thing he wanted.

"Don't like it, Channie?", you asked despite knowing the answer.

"You're gonna make me cum," he grumbled half annoyed, half incredibly horny.

"Isn't that the fun part?"

"I- I want-" to fuck you, he meant to say

But he couldn't bring himself to say it when you were on top of him, shoulder now bare due to the robe sliding down and pretty eyes staring down at him as if he were a meal.

Not that he'd be able to verbalize anything so explicit to you otherwise.

"You want me to fuck you, right? But there's so many other fun things we can do first, angel. The night is young," you giggled, going back to your dry humping, now allowing yourself to moan at the friction along with Chan.

'Angel'?

Did you find him as perfect as he did you? He was an angel? You were a goddess.

That's when he gave himself up to the pleasure. It was a frustrating type of pleasure. His body ached for more, but this in itself already felt so damn good, he didn't have it himself to fight it. He knew the real thing was coming soon.

At some point you became desperate, huffing and puffing above him as you clearly stole all pleasure you could take from him, riding him through your clothes as you pressed yourself up against his hardness. Through the fabric, Chan could feel the warmth of your cunt dragging against him, making his eyes roll back at the thought.

He was aware you were wearing some sort of lingerie under your robe, — he'd caught a few peaks already — but the anticipation to see it was too much that he found his hands coming up to the loose knot located to the center of your waist, nudging it as he asked for silent permission to undo it.

Your frantic movements did not stop, but you still nodded in affirmation, aiding him in throwing off your robe when the tie came loose.

Chan grumbled into his throat at the sight.

Fuck.

He always knew your body to be a dream, but decorating it with a lacy babydoll was completely unnecessary. It felt like a targeted attack at his sanity and a mockery of his self control.

It was baby blue and sheer, which allowed him perfect view of the equally sinful lingerie laying underneath, accentuating every curve and dip of your body that he'd always remained curious about.

"God, you're so fucking mean to me," was all he could say in reaction, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt his balls tighten, an orgasm surely heading his way.

The sight combined with the making out, the extended foreplay, the caresses, and the dry humping left Chan a defeated man. You knew you held victory the moment he walked through that door and now Chan was willingly giving you the orgasm you clearly wanted to pull out of him.

All he could do was whimper pathetically as his orgasm took over, biting his lip in an attempt to quiet himself as he gasped at your continued movements against his stimulated dick, seeking out an orgasm of your own.

"F-fuck, Channie ... So good, so, fuck, so perfect," you cried as you let yourself fall into him when your orgasm finally took over.

With your face buried in his neck, Chan pulled you as close as he could, hips occasionally humping upwards without meaning to.

You remained laying there for a few moments, completely spent at your shared orgasm.

Meanwhile, Chan held you close as he attempted to catch his breath and maybe recuperate some of the sanity he'd just lost at the most intense orgasm he'd ever had — one due to mere dry humping, at that.

"How was that?", you chuckled when you caught your breath, sitting up again.

"You're insane," was his response.

"Just wait til I actually fuck you."

He shuddered, hating how easy it was for you to have an effect on him.

But you seemed to enjoy it, so it wasn't all bad.

"But for now you need to rest a bit," you got up from his lap then despite his complaints, laughing at his grabby hands.

That's when he got a better look at your outfit of choice, making him groan to himself once more.

"Like it, Channie? Got it just for you," you even twirled for him as you said it.

God fucking damnit.

For him? You'd bought lingerie for him?

Chan remembered Vernon's words then. Maybe you did like him back. God, the need to make you feel good just multiplied right that second.

He gulped as he sat up and let one of his hands reach out to you with shyness he wished he could rid himself of. You smiled at him with what felt like adoration, moving closer to him to let him touch you.

Chan was in a trance as he pulled you closer, getting up to match your stature better and letting his hands hesitantly find your waist.

"You're so pretty," he breathed, eyes running up and down your body before staying locked on your own eyes, which were conveniently stuck on his lips.

Taking his chance, he kissed you again, immediately moaning into your mouth at the intensity in which you kissed him. It took no time for you to take control of the kiss, making it as fervent as all others you'd shared and turning yourself around so you could guide yourself to lay on the bed, now pulling him to lay atop you.

Your hands were frenzied as they felt at every inch of him, pulling at his hair and scratching at his muscles in ways he had no idea could turn him on so much. His hardness was already beginning to come back.

Chan pulled away from the kiss to make his way to your neck, internally panicking at doing something wrong but taking the chance anyways. His hands explored you a bit more now, going beneath the baby doll and feeling the nude skin of your stomach while occasionally gracing against the lace of your bra and panties.

"I want you so fucking bad," he found himself breathing out when his kisses reached your chest, mind reeling at what laid beneath the pretty bra you'd worn for him.

"Then take me," you challenged.

Your hands joined his own in ridding yourself of the troublesome lingerie, throwing it out of the way as if it'd offended you and finally giving Chan a peak at what would now become the main character of all his wet dreams.

"Oh, fuck."

"Am I what you imagined, Channie?", you giggled, licking into his open mouth while he aw'd at you.

"Fuck, god, shit," his hands were frenzied as he felt your body under them. Any shyness in him left the moment he received unadulterated access to you.

"Shit, Channie," you gasped when Chan began grinding into you, this time harder due to him being on top and you being now fully nude.

"I, fuck, I want you so fucking bad," he repeated.

Chan's lips followed his hands, exploring every available inch of your body. They went from your neck, licking and sucking at any place that had you whining a little louder. Their next stop were your breasts, where he spent enough time to have you writhing under him, pawing at him to do more. Your stomach was his next victim, though he quickly skipped over it to make way to your thighs, which he opened further as he now knelt at the foot of the bed.

Wet yet desperate kisses were pressed against the skin of your inner thighs, ghosting at the place Chan wanted to claim the most. With your moans of encouragement, Chan braved a few love bites on the ample skin offered by your thighs. His hair somehow became an erogenous zone as you pulled and pulled at it in frustration at his avoidance of your center. The feeling was slightly painful, but Chan still keened at it.

Eventually even Chan grew frustrated of kissing around the place where you needed him most. With a deep breath and furrowed brows, he finally lowered his head to your cunt, hoping his half-assed research on Reddit gave him good enough advice on how to make you feel good.

His tongue licked a stripe at your middle, going from bottom to top and landing on your clit, which he recognized soon enough and began licking intently at. Slightly worried at your lack of reaction, he let himself take a peak above, only to find a sight that had him moaning into you.

Your mouth was open and your eyes tightly shut, with your eyebrows furrowed like his own. Paying close enough attention, Chan realized you'd been releasing silent noises of pleasure, stuck in your throat as he continued to lick and suck at you.

"Cha-channie, fuck," you finally breathed out, hips inadvertently pushing up against his face.

As if it were second nature, his arms went to push you down, holding you onto the bed to allow himself free rein over your pleasure.

At some point Chan's worries went away. He began to freestyle your pleasure, to put it in simple terms. He went off of your reactions, licking or sucking any time you pulled at his hair a little harder or whined a little louder.

The experience ended up being far more enjoyable than Chan had ever imagined. Sure, he knew he'd have enjoyed being on his knees for you, but never had he imagined he'd lose his inhibitions so easily whilst between your legs. His face was practically buried in you, devouring every inch of you whilst his hips took a life of their own as they humped at the bed.

Your noises were making him lightheaded, your whines of his name and your breathless gasps. It was all too much for Chan, he completely lost himself in you to the point in which he completely missed your first orgasm, too focused on his task to process it.

"Channie, f-fuck, I already came, you don't have to- shit. You don't have to keep going," you hiccuped at him, hands pulling him away from your cunt but hips continuing to attempt to get closer.

But he needed to keep going. He was slightly scared that he'd cum in his pants (again) by how consistently he kept humping at the bed, but he needed to draw that second orgasm out of you more than he needed his next breath — which he also needed, as he was basically suffocating between your legs.

Your whines and pleas became higher and even more winded as he continued, enjoying the torturous pleasure he knew you were feeling at that moment. Chan had never felt such ecstasy in his life.

"C-cumming, Channie! Cumming!" you gasped out before beginning to shake under him.

And even then, Chan could not bring himself to stop. He liked and kissed and sucked until you kicked at him to stop, groaning his name between breaths.

"Shit, fine," he grumbled in a chuckle when he finally separated himself from you.

He had no time to be cocky before you pulled him up, somehow managing to get him to lay on the bed and straddling him once more. Maybe you'd caught him off guard or maybe his body was too willing to do anything for you to ever fight you. His hands were able to immediately go to your hips, which was rewarding enough in itself.

"Shit, that was insane," you giggled with wide eyes as you looked down at him. Then you paused, your eyes squinting at him while the ghost of a smile took on your lips, "Wait you have a little something ..."

That's when you kissed him again, not shy at all in licking any leftover slick from his lips and even sucking at any remnants from his tongue. Chan, being only but a man, easily fave in to it, kissing you back as you'd shown him timeless times throughout the past hour.

"Who taught you that?" you asked in amazement as you pulled back.

"Reddit?"

"God, you're such a fucking loser. Why is that hot?", you mumbled the last bit to yourself.

You bit your lip as you watched him under you, likely looking like a complete mess. All his preparations for you had been undone by now. He probably reeked of sweat and his hair was completely fucked up (courtesy of you), yet you looked at him as if you wanted to eat him.

A few seconds later and your hips began moving from their spot on his crotch. You leaned down again, this time kissing at his neck while you ground on him. Chan whimpered pathetically at the stimulation, already too pent up to put up with it.

"I- I can't- I need to, fuck," he swallowed, "Please fuck me."

"God, how can I say no to you when you're so ..." you groaned into his skin, not bothering to complete your sentence.

That's when you got up without a word, aiding Chan in removing his boxers before pulling a condom from your the pile you had on the bedside table and sitting back on him.

Chan both salivated and gulped at the knowledge of what was to come. His hands tightened on your hips when you began eyeing at his dick. Half of him was self conscious while the other half was too turned on to even think.

The girl of his dreams was currently sitting on him, completely naked as she eyed at him like he was meat. There wad a mixture of fear and immense anticipation building in him.

"Such a pretty dick, Channie. I should've known. Everything about you's so pretty."

"T-thank you," he hiccuped when your hand went to lightly trace at his cock, almost as if entranced by it.

He was slightly embarrassed when he cried out when you finally got him into the condom, but what could be done? He was incredibly turned on and would likely continue to embarrass himself the moment you got him inside you.

"Ready, Channie?" you asked from above him, breath slightly scattered just like Chan's.

He nodded snd 'uh-hu'ed at you, hands pressing at a bruising strength into the skin of your hips as you lifted yourself just enough to press his cock against your folds. As the tease Chan knew you to be, you played around with him a bit first, tracing your folds with his tip before circling your clit with him to stimulate yourself even more.

When Chan's whining got too loud, you hushed him by lowering yourself down on him with no warning, slow in your descent and making sure to make noises that'd drive him crazy. Unluckily enough, Chan's own noises battled your own.

This was an unparalleled experience for Chan. His mind was hazy yet he felt more alive than ever. He whined and cried and moaned and whimpered at your heat. You hadn't even moved yet, but Chan's world had already been turned upside down.

"Oh- oh, fuck. That's so- You feel so fucking good," he rasped out. His hips canted forward a bit just as he spoke, causing another whine to leave his lips.

"It's so good, isn't it, Channie? Fuck, so good and perfect for me," you sighed when you began to move.

Taking on an increasingly rapid pace, you still made sure to angle yourself perfectly in order to get him as deep as possible, Your legs were practically in a knelt pancake stretch above him as you took turns bouncing and grinding. Red marks were left on his chest as you raked your nails across it, but Chan was in too much pleasure to register any of the pain; he was on Cloud Nine.

"Didn't think it could, shit, feel this good."

"That's cause it doesn't, baby. This is all you," you whined out.

Chan was entranced by you above him. It was clear you were enjoying yourself. Endless noises left your mouth and ecstasy made a home in your features. Your movements had finesse, but were mostly done in desperation. Chan felt his stomach knot at the knowledge that he was the cause of your pleasure.

"Gonna ruin me for anyone else," you complained in between pants, causing Chan to hump upwards without meaning to. This made you both gasp, eyes rolling back in unison, "F-fuck, Channie. Do that again."

And your commands were impossible to not follow. His hips immediately began canting in sync with your own. With his feet planted on the bed and his hands secured on your waist, Chan fucked into you with a complete lack of finesse and a mind full of depraved desperation.

The only noises leaving the two of you after that consisted of cries of each others' names and grunts. The mixture of skin slapping and disgruntled sounds of pleasure was nasty in nature, but Chan found the sheer need shared between you mind-numbing. This was a physical representation of how much he'd always wanted you, and it was finally taking form.

When Chan felt his orgasm approach, his hips sped up, causing you to hiccup out praises and moans, with a warning for your impending orgasm in between. Your hand went down to your cunt, toying at your clit messily as you continued to ride him.

It became a mess pretty quickly, but Chan didn't care. His mind was too focused on your shared pleasure.

"Gonna cum with me, handsome?", you gasped out between heavy breaths.

"Mhm!", was the most Chan could do at the moment. The pleasure was blinding as it led up to his orgasm. It was impossible to keep control of himself at that moment.

And then it came.

It felt like he was completely blinded, like his senses were overturned while also shutting down completely. Everything felt way more sensitive, especially when he felt you tightening around him for your own orgasm.

His brained tuned out your noises of pleasure and his throat muted any of his own. The feeling was so good that he choked on the loud noises he knew he'd be letting out at this moment. It was like he short-circuited. It all went black for a few moments as the pleasure overtook his entire being.

By the time his senses came back to full function, you were lying on top of him, breathless as you took turns nuzzling against his chest and pressing kisses on the flushed skin. Just before his arms wrapped around you, you disconnected yourself from him to lay beside him, removing any distance between you to cuddle into his side.

"I think you might've ruined me for anyone else," he breathed out finally.

You chuckled.

"Well, good thing I don't want anyone else to have you," you said nonchalantly, unknowing that Chan's heart rate sped up 100x.

"Do you mean-"

"Yes, I like you back, you absolute dumbass," you said in faux annoyance before pressing a kiss to his lips and getting up, mumbling something about needing to clean up before catching an infection. Girl stuff.

Meanwhile, Chan sat back on your bee completely dumbfounded yet more pleased than ever before.

Fuck, maybe he should buy Jeonghan a drink or something.

to read short 1.8k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, loser!chan getting bullied by the members and reader all at once (with love ofc!), mentions of sex, mentions of prior overstimulation, sort of dom/sub dynamic, begging, oral (m receiving), etc.

wc: 169 (teaser); 1858 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Dude, you totally owe me money," cackled Jeonghan as soon as he spotted you and Chan walking into the frat house hand in hand.

"What? That was never the bet," Vernon gestured towards you and Chan, who were now settling onto the couch across from them, "The bet was that he wouldn't lose his v card, which it looks like he did – congrats man," he finished off with a high five to Chan.

"I'm talking about the other bet," rebutted Jeonghan, "I told you he'd confess within this week. You said it'd take him til after we graduated."

"Wait, what? We bet on that?"

"You guys had multiple bets based on my love life?", gaped Chan, half annoyed and half confused — he was making that question mark face you loved on him. He looked like a curious puppy when he did it.

You continued to watch amused, eventually joined by Seungkwan as he took a seat to your opposite side and offered you a sip of his fruity drink.

...

find the 18+ continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[sexbot300]

Geto was an asshole. He took pride in the fact that he had you soaking your panties just from exchanging a few degrading words.

Gojo was a bigger asshole. He would point out how making fun of your slicked folds, clinging onto your pink panties, made you even wetter.

“No way Suguru,” your back completely pressed to a wall, too timid to move, “I think if we say something else she might just squirt.” His slender fingers lifted at the edge of your skirt, raising the front piece of fabric. This left the two tall men gazing at your exposed thighs, revealing your underwear on full display.

The black-haired man stood up from the edge of the bed, “Poor thing, poor, poor girl.” His voice full of a condescending pity, “Are you sure she didn’t already cum?” His piercing gaze left your weeping cunt before casually pulling out his phone.

You stood there, gulping slowly, skin feeling incredibly hot to the touch. Fuck. “P-please… just stop, you’ve been teasing me for an hour, I’m a good girl, I promi-”

“Oh! Oh~ you hear that, Suguru?! I think the toy thinks we care about it’s feelings.” He lets out a little snicker.

Dropping to his knees, Gojo stands mere inches away from your slick heat. With his free hand, his thumb and index finger grip the upper part of your panties. In an instance, he shoves your underwear upwards, causing a bit of pressure to your clit and revealing more of your lips. A gasp left your mouth.

“How adorable,” he cooed, warm breath hitting your pussy with every word he exclaims “greedy little cunt is eating even her panties up. How gross~”

Geto’s face makes a sweet smile, “I think,” he clicks his tongue, his darkened eyes meeting yours, “I think she’s lying about being a “good girl” Satoru…” he shifted his body around so you can only see his intimidating, broad, back.

Geto angled the phone so it displays you shamefully pinned against a wall, the squatting Gojo inches away from your cunt staring at the front-facing camera. The pair sharing shit-eating grins. A ding button. Recording.

“Put on a show for us, y/n, yeah?” Geto spoke softly, slowly tugging at the hem of his pants while approaching you.

“Don’t be camera shy! This isn’t blackmail! We just want to help you come to terms that you’re nothing but a dirty slut that exists to take our cocks.” Gojo pouted his lips, “okay?”

You only blinked several times at both of the men, they shared a look of hunger in their eyes.

43:57 minutes and seconds in. You’re laying on your back, thighs pinned behind by two large hands. The bed creaked with every thrust Gojo pounds into you, his veiny cock angling in a way that made your eyes roll back into your skull. Your cunt feels as if it’s about to tear from the girth this man had, but you did not want this to stop. Above you stood Geto, his massive balls slapping against your nose as his dick abused your throat while face fucking you.

Tears rolling down your face, mascara staining your cheeks, lipstick smeared on both dicks and their faces, saliva pooling everywhere. Was it moans that escaped your mouth or the sound of gagging?

“Y-yeah? You see that Sugur-” grunt, “-uhhh. Just had to break this cunt in.” He grinned while pushing into you at an impossibly fast pace. Skin on skin, pelvis on pelvis– harshly filling the room with sound.

A chuckle erupted from the other man, face in a haze while you sucked his dick as if it’s your last meal. “T-told you “good girls” don’t take a cock this good.”

—

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 8: Cockwarming

Summary: You had no idea how you ended up in this position, slotted so prettily on your husband's aching cock as he left you to fend for yourself in the search for friction. Maybe you could convince him otherwise. Warnings: Cockwarming, the reader has a vagina, mentions of genitalia, pet names, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @redvexillum Their writing is so scrumptious, I can't believe I am honored enough to exist in the same world as their masterpieces.

You could hardly stand it anymore, the teasing. How his smug smirk, nonchalant attention made your skin crawl in delicious ways that you wouldn’t dare to admit aloud. But he knew, you didn’t have to tell him. Your fingers dug into the plush velvet of your husband’s seat, weeping cunt slotted perfectly on his hard and angry cock. Hair disheveled, lips puffy and red from how hard his teeth had assulated them mere minutes ago…you couldn’t stand him anymore. 

The green light illuminated the office, allowing the soft pitter-patter of rain to take on an eerie glow through the oval window. Cascading streams of water glistened, letting the green street lights shake and shift across the floor with each passing droplet. When you had visited your husband late into the night, the Eye of Zaun hard at work scanning over various papers, you had no idea what would occur. With a steaming cup of tea in your hand, the whisps of steam wafting off it in a comforting air that could soothe even the worriest of worriers. You had crossed the hardwood floor, placed it gently on his desk as you propped yourself up on the corner. 

“Silco…it’s been hours.”

The world swam in that window’s green light, the hard maroon cushion,and those bi-colored eyes that penetrated your soul when he looked up to observe your form. Neither eye displayed much emotion to the untrained eye but after so long you could nearly tell what your husband was thinking. The orange eye held depths of a fire unknown and the loving rage of a thousand comets hurling towards each other with a fire too hot to be extinguished until they met. The blue, however,  the crystal blue one showed the most restraint surprisingly. You were wearing more casual clothes, a button up white shirt and a pair of maroon suit pants. Nothing you would have deemed anything worth the heated and lustful gaze you were receiving. 

“I know, my dear. But Zaun waits for no man.”

Filting around his chair, you sat in his lap, running your nimble fingers through the locks of his slicked back hair. Cooing softly as his head craned back in relaxation, you thought you had finally won him over for the night. 

“My dear, if you keep that up I will have no choice but to indulge myself in what else that heavenly body of yours can offer me.”

Choking back a surpirsed gasp, a frantic blush coating your cheeks, you halted your movements. You had no idea what had warranted such a bold reaction from the Industrailist, but here it seems that you had done something. 

That is how you ended up now, pussy full of cock, drooling onto the shoulder lining of Silco’s vest as he did nothing. Sliding slightly, attempting to get more friction, to feel him deeper inside you, his rough fingers came to grip your hips in a bruising manner. 

“Shhh now pet. You did this to yourself, looking so delicatable while I work.”  His breath was hot against the shell of your ear, one hand returning to scribble some notes down on the paper he was viewing while the other stayed on your hip. You let out a desperate whimper, grinding your hips down once more in a plea. Your nails dug into the fabric of his chair, tearing the material slightly. Growling into your ear that the friction you had caused, your husband roughly bucks his hips up into you. 

“Behave yourself. I’ll treat you well soon enough love…”

Guess you were here for a while then. 

[thoughtssvt]

adventures of sugar daddy nanami kento and his frugal sugar baby [ pt. 2 ]

nanami kento x reader ; fluff & humor ; nsfw joke | [ pt. 1 ]

MDNI — 18+ interactions only

A/N : it's implied that reader is still attending school, whether that be college undergrad or grad is up to you; tldr: reader is over the age of 18

"darling, are you busy right now?" kento's voice dripped from the speaker of your phone like thick honey.

"nope, go ahead," you confirm that you have time to talk as you wipe the sweat off your brow, the summer sun and scalding water making your body temperature rise.

you could practically hear kento's brows furrow, "are you sure? you sound a distance away and I can hear the water running," he said suspiciously.

you cringed, holding your breath as you slowly slid the plate onto the rack only to cringe at the sharp hiss of ceramic skidding against metal.

"I thought you started using the dish washer," kento sighed, the creak of his office chair putting the image of a disappointed kento leaning back in his chair in your head.

"I don't trust it, kento!" you cried dramatically. you would've clutched at your heart if your hands weren't soaking, sparkling glasses weeping on the rack at the mere thought of being thrown in satan's machine.

a staccato sigh and your muffled chuckles filled the kitchen. "anyway," kento continued, "I was wondering if you had the energy for something public." he asked, always considerate of your social battery.

you blotted your hands against the hand towel that hung from the oven door's handle, humming happily as you reached for the nice hand lotion kento had gotten for you, worried about the state of your hands considering the temperature of the water you habitually used. "why? is this some secret exhibition sex club thing that you rich people have?" you teased.

"I want to treat you to an outing since you refuse to do it yourself," kento poked back, speeding passed your joke, already used to your antics.

"oh, not denying it? does it actually exist?" your eyes widened in feigned suspicion, a weak attempt at changing the subject.

"do you know why I started looking for a sugar baby?" kento continued. you sucked in a breath only to be cut off, "nevermind... don't answer that." kento sighed, making you chuckle. "I wanted someone to enjoy spending my money. I lost that kind of excitement a long time ago, so you don't have to hold back. you can ask me for anything that will make you happy, okay?" he explained, sincerity oozing from his voice.

you nodded as you listened, ears perking up towards the end. "anything?" you parroted drawn out and timid.

౨ৎ

kento scrubbed his hands against his scalp, blond locks effectively spiking in every direction. you were both sat next to each other at the dining table, crowding around your laptop-- the one you'd refused to replace, deadset on it lasting you at least another four years despite the volume the fans worked being loud enough to wake kento from his sleep. kento sat defeated, chin digging into his palm as he stared into the abyss while you wore a gleaming smile on your face, excitedly knocking against the table as you waited for your prehistoric machine to load.

once the confirmation screen popped up you wrapped your arm around kento's, pulling him in close. "you were right, kento! spending all this money is fun!" you chimed, wiggling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

kento stared at you with glassy eyes. "I don't know what to do to make you understand," he croaked. "was this really fun for you?" he softened as he took in your features and how much more energized you seemed after just a few clicks.

when he got home from work you'd dragged him to the table, pulling up the tragic student loan debt page, eagerly asking him if it was really okay to spend this much all at once. he'd paid off your loans and the remaining balance of your current semester. you felt like you were floating, to say the least.

kento was more than happy to pay these debts off, but he'd assumed that if you had any they would've been your first priority, not a scrubdaddy and a dish rack. he deflated once again at the mere memory.

you chuckled fondly at the display, reaching to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "fine, fine. let's go."

his brows knit tightly as you input the address into his phone, sticking it to the dash before securing your seatbelt. you had him park a bit away from a 7-eleven. he followed you hesitantly, watching as you hummed quietly to yourself, a bounce in our step as the two of you took a short walk down to akihabara station. you stopped with your arms spread in a grandiose gesture, the wall behind you stacked floor to ceiling with gashapon machines.

"i've always wanted to try one of these, but the probability that I would get what I wanted on my first try was always slim." you explained as your eyes scanned the wall for a specific capsule series. you held your palm open asking for coins which kento handed to you with a gentle smile.

he watched you for who knows how long. the capsules kept coming, countless duplicates filling his arms. and it was worth it to see your smile, bright and unashamed, every time you popped a capsule open.

"ah, finally!" you cheered as you turned to kento, a small plastic sandwich in the palm of your hand, the same sandwich he got everyday for lunch.

his heart overflowed, spreading heat across his chest. you'd gone through all that work just to get his sandwich. even given the opportunity to do something for yourself you still thought of others, but you were happy and that was enough for him.

"come, come! I think I saw one that had a desk like the one in your office." you beamed, eyes busy searching for the machine with every intention to set these figures up in the corner of your own desk. somewhere along the way kento left you for a moment just to stop by a store for a bag, dumping all your gachas in it until you got exactly what you were looking for. a smile plastered on his face as you continuously loaded coins into the machine.

he rests a hand on your thigh on the drive home, pinching it just enough to grab your attention. "thank you," he whispers, bringing your hand to his face to kiss at your knuckles. thank you for showing him all the small happiness the world had. he had a lot to learn from you.

part 1 | sugar daddy kento masterlist | jjk men x reader masterlist

divider by @tyuniwa

tag list : @that-goth-bisexual @yannauauau

[jweekgoji]

D-16/Reader. [NSFW]

tw: unrequited love, one sided feelings (from D-16's side), a little obsessed fan!D-16, popular!reader, tiny fic about tiny D-16 with tiny NSFW at the end. haha.

I just love shy and messy D-16 who has no idea about his own feelings and how to deal with them. I see all the requests and I'm slowly doing them. Just want to water all incoming army of Sentinel fics with someone else haha word count: ~390

yan!D-16 who has a massive crush on you, someone famous like one of Sentinel's guards or one of the top racers of Iacon. he definitely has some posters of you on the wall, or a small shiny sticker he got as a gift from Orion. he just can't help but adore every small piece of merch he has, despite Orion often teasing his friend for being a little obsessed with you. D-16 probably would try to deny it every single time, because he's definitely not obsessed, not like you even know he exists in the first place so...it is unlikely for him to even develop feelings for someone he never met before in his boring young life.

That's so frustrating, not having even a bits of privacy at all. Have you seen how small their recharging places are? How cramped it is? It makes me feel so bad for D-16, because imagine how hard it is for a poor bot to try and keep his servo so tightly over his mouth, in order to not let out a single sound. He doesn't want anyone to wake up, finding out that apparently their fellow worker can't control his own desires under control. I mean...can they really blame him? For getting hot and bothered by someone like you? If anything, D-16 would have traded everything just for a one close look, in person, because no-no, just looking at the screens is slowly getting not enough for him...

He's certainly allowed to have little moments with himself, if he just keeps desperately trying to move his servo over his spike faster, harder, just like you would have done it. maybe if in some of his perfect scenario where you ever had a chance to be with him. He knows this is probably foolish, fantasizing and dreaming about you every time he closes his optics. So, so needy of him! If only he had a one chance to meet you, after all the hard work he does, just to, maybe, have a one or two words with you, take a photo if he were lucky enough—

The soft, almost inaudible groan would escape his mouth, his optics fluttering closed for a mere second after he finally reached the sweet, desired release. Well, he's definitely betting all his energon rations on you for the next Iacon 5000! ;)

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 (𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖!!) ❞

❝ PROF. GETO IS SO HOT AND NOW HE’S YOUR HUSBAND!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (extra credit fic for prof geto series) (can be read as a standalone!!)

✧ summary: you visit your family at home, spending the night in your childhood room, and after teasing suguru all morning, your husband decides he can't wait a moment longer to have you.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut , fluff, but also angst depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader was a grad student (now a professor), but age is vague, childhood room sex, semi-exhibitionism, fingering (f! receiving) sex (p in v), creampie, discussion of having kids, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, fanart by @ / polariae

✧ w/c: 2,395

“So this is your childhood room?” Suguru enters your room, glancing around, lips curling at the plushes and posters lining your shelves and walls, a collection of memories of a you he didn’t know, but one that grew into the person that he loved. He could see the pieces of you scattered about the room — and his eyes found the bookshelf tucked into the corner of the room. 

“Yeah we’ll be staying here during our visit,” you sigh, setting down your bag, before sitting on the edge of the bed, “they set up the air mattress for you but I think we can share my twin bed,” 

He tilted his head, “I suppose if I don’t mind curling up or letting my feet dangle,” and you press yourself to his side. 

“But it’s all worth it to have your wife by your side right?” His lips can’t help but curl widely at the title 

“I feel I have to remind you that you have been my wife for two years now and you can’t keep using that card,” and yet his arms slip around your middle, “but I can’t complain when I have such a pretty wife,” 

“Just pretty?” You’re climbing onto his lap, not missing the way his body tensed deliciously at your weight,  a slight pout on your lips, “come on, Professor, you can do better than that,” 

“You’re right,” his hand drag down your sides, squeezing at your hips, “beautiful,” he kisses the swell of your cheek, “ethereal,” his lips trail to the tip of your nose, “brilliant,” his lips chart a course down your jaw, “achingly desirable,” and you’re cupping his cheek. 

“Sure you’re not describing yourself?” And he’s snorting, right as you press a kiss to his lips, and you realize it’s been far too long since you’ve kissed him last, almost two hours in fact from the time the two of you had sat down to dinner with your family — and that was an eternity you didn’t want to relive. 

And neither did he from the way he kissed you again and again and again. 

“I’d never describe anyone but my wife like that,” he murmurs, “and how can you compare me, a mere human, to a goddess?” 

And your laugh is swallowed by his lips again, until he’s retreating his kisses down your jaw and neck, “and how do you plan to please your goddess?” 

His teeth graze the soft skin of your neck, drawing a small gasp from your lips, his fingers slipping under the t-shirt you had stolen from him this morning to wear on the ride over, “Oh the way I always do,” a rumble rasp of a voice that makes heat spread from his touch, “by worshiping every inch of her, offering my praises on my knees, and giving myself to her at the altar,” 

“We already had our business done at the altar,” and he laughs, shaking his head, fingers finding yours to lace with his. 

“Every day I’ll marry you over and over, Princess, if that means you’ll be mine,” 

“I think I was yours from the moment you told me I was late,” 

“If that means I was the object of your hatred,” and you chuckle, your other hand finding purchase on his shoulder, as you lean closer to him, noses bumping. 

“Well, some say hatred is a thin line to love,” 

“Then ours might as well have been non-existent,” and his lips find yours again, eroding your quick reply with the warmth of his touch flooding your every sense. Hands slide down your sides, squeezing teasingly, as his lips curl as he muffle your delightful noises, “because I think I was in love with you from the moment I saw you too,” he parts your lips only to speak, and to see the ruins he had left your perfect lips in, puffy and bitten red. 

“Even when I pestered you with questions about my papers,” he drags his thumb down your lips, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Especially then,” and it’s not a second before your lips find his again, sliding against his own, and he’s becoming unsatisfied with only your kisses, even he wants to have every inch of you — as he always does. 

He’s pressing you against your creaky mattress, springs groaning under your combined weight, and nearly screaming as the two of you shifted into place, “Sugu, we can’t,” you murmur, “someone could hear us,” 

And it was late at this point — a late dinner needed after they got in after 11:00 PM, and everyone had gone to bed, but still, the other rooms were only a door or two down. But still his lips are insistent, peppering kisses along your collarbone, as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt. 

“We can be quiet,” he murmurs, in your ear, “I’ll go slow, no one will hear,” and he didn’t hide his need well, not that he was trying to — he had desperate for you since you had stolen that shirt of his, so much so that the two of you nearly ended up leaving late, since he had pinned you to the entryway wall right beside the door. You had convinced him to wait, slipping from his grasp, despite your already crumbling defenses to the hot embrace of his need. 

And you were far too gone by the dulcet words murmured in your ear, erasing all forms of logical thoughts from your brain, “fuck,” you murmur under your breath, “if we get caught—“ 

And his fingers are already slipping under your shirt, a gasp parting with lips as he finds bare skin underneath, warming you with his touch, as he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, “what will happen if we get caught? Will you punish me sweetheart?” His words are hot against your skin, lips grazing the shell of your ear, before pressing a sweet kiss against the soft spot behind it, “I’d like that, so would it be much of a punishment at all?” And he squeezes at your soft flesh before dragging his hand downwards to the button of your jeans. 

“Sugu—“ you warn, and he’s undoing the button of your jeans deftly, tugging them down around your ankles, and it’s only a moment before his thumb teases you through your drenched fabric, “ngh, don’t tease me—“ 

“How can I not when it’s so easy to do, sweetheart?” And his other palm drags down your waist to the swell of your hip and tugs at the elastic of your lacy panties snapping it against your skin, another yelp escaping your lips, “you always make such pretty noises, wife,” and the term makes your cunt ache for him, and it doesn’t go unnoticed, lips pressed to your neck curling in a smirk, “like it when I call you my wife? Because you are. My perfect, pretty wife,” 

And he presses closer to you, hips flush against your ass, as you feel his bulge rub against you through the fabric of his slacks, “I need more,” you whine, and his chuckle makes you shiver. 

“So eager, as always,” his fingers drag your underwear down to join your pants, “even when I’m about to fuck you in your childhood bed,” he circles  he sinks a finger into your needy cunt, swallowing it whole as he swallows the moan that leaves you with his lips, “can’t be too eager baby, I have to loosen you up first,” 

He slowly finger fucks you, the wet squelch so loud in the quiet silence of your bedroom, you would beg him to stop if you didn’t want more — and from the way your juices dripped down his knuckles to his wrists, your cunt wanted more too. 

“Such a good girl f’me,” he murmurs, “I think your parents really like me, the model son-in-law,” he adds another finger, but your walls only beg him to stay as he pumps them in and out, “but what would they think if they heard me fuck you open like this?” 

And he only wishes he could see your face, he knows from the telltale flutter of your walls, you’re growing close to release, and he could see your lovely lips parted for him, eyes blown out in pleasure or squeezed shut, and your face the epitome of ecstasy — but the soft pants that left your lips were good enough. 

“Sugu, I’m close—“ and you’re only whining louder when he pulls his fingers from you, your body arching into his, desparate for his touch, for friction, for anything — but he only licks his fingers clean with a pop, “fuck, please—“ 

You hear fabric rustle until you feel him tease your dripping entrance with the tip of his leaking cock, “Want it that bad, sweetheart? Need to cum?” And you know his lips are curled in that annoyingly smug smirk of his, “a little frustrated?” 

And you know he was toying you, if only to repay you for this morning with this delicious torture — your husband was a brilliant man, but as cruel with his touch as he was with his red pen. 

“Baby,” you cry, and he’s clicking his tongue, “please—“ 

“Don’t be so loud, someone could hear us, remember?” And your cunt is begging, warmth trying to welcome him even as he pulls his tip away, “would you like that? Can you be quiet for me?” And you’re nodding, a whimper leaving your throat, and finally he sinks into you, inch by inch as his fingers drag down your tongue, “good girl,”

“Sugu,” he filled you so well, stretching your cunt with his girth and sending delicious pleasure up your spine, pulsing inside as it dragged inside your sweet walls, “need more—“ 

And he begins to rock into you, bed squeaking traitorously as his hands drag down your front, as the slaps of your skin filled the silence of the room, and your eyes squeezed shut as if that would help you keep this dirty secret in the midst of the night. 

“Wonder if you ever thought you’d fuck your husband on this bed one day,” he kisses your neck, drawing the back of your fingers against your cheek, as his dick missed placed he only wished he could reach with his tongue, wet warmth beckoning him deeper and deeper, “if we’d make a baby in the very bed you spent growing up into the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known,” and fuck, he wasn’t making it easier to stay quiet, loud whimpers and moans muffled against his fingers that your spit dripped down of. 

And then you hear a door creak nearby, and he freezes, the moan of the floorboards as someone walked by making you tense, your pussy a vice grip around his cock, and he couldn’t resist fucking you. His hips piston against you harshly, and you nearly bite his fingers as a gasp works your way from your leaping chest. 

“Careful, baby, someone might hear us, hear you whining and begging for me to fuck you harder, and how would that look? A wife so needy for her husband’s cock?” And he’s snapping his hips rougher making it nearly impossible for you to stay quiet as he no longer cares who hears — as long as he can make you both cum. 

You’re pulling his fingers from your mouth, “s’close, Sugu, I can’t—“ and god, it’s nearly enough for him to cum then and there, but no, no, he has to make you cum first — need to feel your juices drench his cock before he cums inside. 

He’s reaching down, right where his cock is thrusting inside to rub at your needy clit, “cum on my cock, sweetheart, need to feel your pretty pussy cum—“ 

And you do as he says with a cry of his name that he muffled with his lips, fucking you hard through your orgasm, the sounds white noise to you both now — the wet squelch of your cunt was too much, too good, and his balls tense, all too ready to cum. 

You part from his lips only to whisper between gasps, “Cum inside, Suguru, fill me, please,” and your words send over the edge with you, notching his cock deep, as he finally comes undone, hot release painting your walls white, as he moans your name in your ear. 

He’s fucking his cum deeper as his hips stutter against you, slowing, as he finally stills, the bed ceasing its groaning as both of your quiet pants fill the silence. Bodies sticky, he pulls out of you, groaning as he watches his cum spill from inside you, as he grabs a towel from his nearby suitcase to clean the both of you up. 

He presses sweet kisses to your neck, “you okay baby?” 

And he knows you’re pouting even before you start speaking, “If anything heard us, I’ll—“ 

He laughs, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “You’ll what? You love me too much to hurt me,” 

“I do, but I can tease you myself, as you know, far better than you can,” you turn to face him, your lips ghosting over his jaw while your fingers drew circles on his chest, “student has far surpassed her teacher on that front,” 

“On every front,” and you roll your eyes, “I mean it, Princess,” 

“I know you do,” you murmur, “which is why I guess you’re so desperate to have a baby with me,” and he flushes, and not from exertion, gaze shying away, “but lucky for you, I am too,” and his eyes snap to yours. 

“You—“ 

“We’ve discussed it before, Suguru,” your fingers trace his jaw, nuzzling his cheek, “we’re settled in our careers now, we bought our house. We’ve been married for two years now — do you want to?” 

His eyes shine impossibly, even in the dim moonlight filtering in from the window, “there’s nothing I want more than to have kids with you, Princess, but are you sure? It’s a much bigger decision for you than for me, it’s your body,” 

“But it’s our child,” you smile, “and I know you’ll be making it up to me for the rest of our lives,” 

“Don’t know if I’ll be able to ever make it up to you for everything you do for me,” Suguru presses his forehead to yours, “but I’ll spend my whole life trying.” 

✧ a/n: ahhh i've teased this fic for so long, it makes me so happy to write this!!! honestly i've had horrible writer's block and writing these two are always so easy and such a joy for me :). i hope you guys enjoy <3

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala @ashhlsstuff , @blue041803 , @mwtsxri i , @bblgumfairy , @sukunasleftkneecap , @xo-evangeline , @fiannee , @teatreeoilll , @chalametet , @ryukaver , @d1gitalbathh , @saga3ious , @seventhcinema , @satosugucide , @your-l0nely-star , @sokkasmoon , @deegausserr , @hyookka , @oggsyy , @littlebitb , @higuchislut , @ti-mame , @itoshisins , @cerene-dipity , @onionsoop , @sinlillith , @izzythenaive , @lalacute03 , @rxndou , @c-themoon , @xxrag-d0llxx , @hqtoge , @sugarxlumps , @hopeluna , @actualdeemon , @enchantedpendant , @serendididy , @soulstealercat , @neuviloved , @simply-a-s1mp , @satorusmochis , @lalacute03 , @sugurora

[ellecdc]

Helloo Elle!

I have a request for a James fic, basically in class they get to see the mirror of erised and when James looks he sees reader and goes “can you move?” Or something??

Love ur fics<33

this was such a cute idea! thanks for the prompt, lovie <3

James Potter x fem!reader who look into the Mirror of Erised [1.4k words]

CW: friends/classmates to lovers, partners on a school project, reader is not in Gryffindor

“Potter! You’re going to get us into trouble.” You hissed quietly, though you stuck dutifully behind him under the invisibility cloak as the two of you carried on down the corridors.

“You’re going to get us into trouble if you don’t keep quiet.” He countered, though he wasn’t sure he really wanted you to be quiet - he found himself to be quite fond of your voice if he was being particularly honest. 

“Tell me again why we’re doing this?” You whispered, and he was sure that the point of his neck where your breath brushed against would feel tingly for the rest of the evening.

James scoffed at your question, though he knew you could tell there was no real heat behind it at the way you swatted playfully at his arm. “What’s the point of writing about the Mirror of Erised if we’ve never even seen it?”

“People write papers on things they’ve never seen all the time, James.” You responded firmly. “Merlin, the Philosopher's stone, the existence of nargles…” Your voice trailed off at the end, and James didn’t even have to turn to look at you to know that your brows were furrowed and your nose was scrunched up in confusion as you recalled Pandora Rosier’s last presentation in your Care for Magical Creatures class. 

“Would you like to do the honours?” He asked you then, pulling the cloak off the two of you now that you were stationed in front of the unused classroom that the mirror was being stored in.

You rolled your eyes at his grandeur but cast an alohomora at the door with a smile on your face nonetheless. 

The candles that lit up automatically at your arrival did nothing to quell the almost cold greyness of the room - the candles, the two of you, and the cloth covered object being the only things seemingly radiating any warmth.

“Feels like I’m about to look at a boggart, not the Mirror of Erised…” You muttered quietly, peering around the room with your arms locked around your middle as you subconsciously leaned closer to James’ side. 

“Where’s your sense of adventure, gorgeous?” James teased you, causing you to narrow your eyes at him in what he was certain was your best attempt at a sneer. 

“We tend to leave that up to your kind, Mr. Gryffindor.” You volleyed, but your attempt at an insult merely caused James to beam a smile at you. 

He might have been imagining it, but he was sure that you didn’t seem too disappointed at the outcome. 

“That’s gotta be it there, yeah?” You said then, gesturing towards the tall blanket-covered piece of furniture standing along a wall opposite of stacked chairs and desks.

“What do you say? Ladies first?” James asked as he stood beside the mirror, holding the blanket in his hands as he raised his eyebrows at you in wait.

“Alright…” You said, clearly trying for levity but James couldn’t help but notice that you rolled your shoulders in an attempt to ready yourself.

James pulled at the cloth covering the mirror with a flourish, which he immediately regretted when the room became a cloud of dust that was only enhanced by the gentle candle light.

“Merlin's tits, sorry angel.” James coughed as he tried to fan the dust away from his face. 

With a flick of his wand in an attempt to vanish the dust, James also accidentally vanished the cloth meaning whoever put it in here would be aware of someone interfering with the magical artefact.

James took off his glasses and used his shirt to wipe at the lenses (ignoring the internal berating he was receiving from both his mum and Remus for not using the cloth specifically made for just this) before returning them to his face.

With the dust gone and James’ glasses righted, he spotted you standing in the centre of the room staring at your reflection with a slightly furrowed brow and your mouth hanging open in a silent gasp.

You schooled your expression quickly in a way that James was certain had he not lived with the likes of Sirius “I don’t have feelings for Remus” Black and Remus “I don’t have feelings” Lupin for as long as he had, he wouldn’t have noticed it at all.

“What d’you see? Anything good?” He asked, leaning against the golden frame with all the blaseness he could muster; he was really quite excited to look in it himself. 

You smirked over at him and James told himself that the thump in his chest was from his excitement at getting to lock eyes on the infamous Mirror of Erised. “I see us getting nothing short of an Outstanding on this assignment.”

“With that beautiful brain of yours? There was never any doubt.” James replied haughtily. “Okay, my turn.” He continued quickly, moving in front of you to peer into the mirror. 

He waited for the image to shift; to see himself winning the Quidditch World Cup, to see himself with a partner and children in an idyllic countryside house, to see himself pulling off the biggest prank that the Marauders ever imagined.

But you wouldn’t move.

“Y/N, can you move, please?” He asked quickly, eyes not moving from the mirror as he waited for you to step out of the reflection.

“What do you mean?” You responded, voice sounding far away, and James felt his heart fall right out of his arse when he realised that your lips never moved in the reflection as you said it, and what exactly that meant for him. 

Sure enough, you appeared in his field of vision, moving to stand beside the mirror before gently leaning against it as you stared James head on; he moved his nervous gaze back to the mirror only to be accosted with much the same view in his reflection. 

“What do you see, James?” You asked quietly then, and if James wasn’t currently having a bit of an existential crisis, he may have picked up the taunting in your tone.

But the reflection of you was looking at him with nothing short of love, while the real you was looking at him with something that looked…knowing? And also full of mischief. 

“What is it that you desire most?” You continued; tone taking on a nearly sultry quality as you slowly made your way over to him.

But he wouldn’t look at you, couldn’t look at you; not when he had the image of you standing beside him with eyes full of care and admiration, not when he’d be looking away from that and towards what might be disdain, discomfort, or even disgust. 

“I think the mirror kind of said it all, didn’t it?” He whispered back, knowing he’d essentially outed himself. 

You hummed in acknowledgement as you finally made it to his side. “Why won’t you look away, James?”

“This is preferable.”

“Preferable?” 

“Right.”

“She’s looking at you with love, isn’t she?” You asked gently. 

James finally closed his eyes at that. 

“That’s how you were looking at me, too.”

His eyes flew right back open as he turned to stare at you - the real you.

And there you were, the real you, looking at him knowingly, and accusingly, and nervously, and…lovingly.

“You saw me too?” He whispered.

“I saw you too.” You agreed softly. 

“Oh thank Merlin.” James groaned as he pulled you in tightly against him and rested his forehead against yours. “I thought this whole thing was about to go tits up.”

You snorted in laughter as you linked your arms around his middle in return. “The rest of this assignment would’ve gotten really awkward.” You agreed, and the two of you stood there in front of the Mirror of Erised, neither of you looking at the mirror, but rather breathing in exactly what it was that each of you desired most. 

“Think we got what we needed, James?” You murmured into his chest, referring to your extra-credit work of actually experiencing the magical artefact that the two of you were writing about.

But as he relished the warmth of your body which was slotted against his as though the two of you were puzzle pieces created to fit together, he had no problem agreeing that, yeah, the two of you got what you needed.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

18+ fem!reader —

BUCKY BARNES who likes to be close to you during sex, to hold you, to feel you. to look you in the eyes:

just him cross-legged in the middle of the bed - you sat atop his lap facing him, your legs merely enveloped around his hips, cock snuggly wedged inside the warmth of your cunt.

you'd have your arms wrapped around each other for support, the action intimate and sensual - the sandwiching of your chests alluding to the closeness of it all. one metal, one fleshed hand clasped around the middle of your back, fingers spread wide, dragging over your skin. your arms draped over bucky's shoulders, wrists loosely entwined behind his neck, teasing fingers skimming the shorts of hair at the back of his head.

his thrusts would be almost non-existent, the motion only being the fluid rocking as he grinds up into you. the curve of his pretty cock slotted perfectly inside, the angle hitting all the right spots - veins grazing against the subtle ridges of your walls, the friction enough to satiate every need.

for the most part, he'd keep his gaze locked on yours, his soft blues intently watching the bliss and lust cloud your eyes. focusing on your pretty, pliant expressions as his cock continuously draws out gentle, broken whines from behind your lips.

but during those few times when his eyes would leave yours, they'd be closed. face buried into the crook of your neck, littering kisses at the base of your throat - light, delicate pecks and suckles. he'd mutter sweet, loving words, sealing the niceties into your skin with kisses, the act itself reassuring his praises.

trailing kisses back up the length of your throat, he'd hover over your jaw, soft groans slipping past his mouth - breath getting caught in his throat by the way you feel wrapped around him. the kisses would continue until they reached back up to your lips, his own shadowing yours, gentle lewd noises muffled between.

everything would be unrushed, the goal of your release a distant thought. your only focus being on how the other feels in this moment.

[gi4hao]

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ ˎˊ- how they make you feel beautiful

ot13 x reader — some mentions of insecurities

a/n: don’t mind me pushing the taking-pictures-as-a-love-language agenda for wonu, as always

— seungcheol: with gifts

with him, gifts for no particular reason are much more frequent than gifts for a specific occasion. he doesn’t like to come home empty handed and always says you deserve all the pretty things in the world. if he ever buys you a piece of clothing or jewelry, then he’ll be the happiest man on earth every time you wear it, showering you with compliments a little bit more than usual just because he loves spoiling you <3

— jeonghan: with specific compliments

every variation of color in your irises, the micro expressions on your face, the way your laugh slightly varies depending on what’s provoking it: whether it’s something new or not, jeonghan will compliment the slightest details in your appearance or your personality. sometimes he begins with a “did i ever tell you…”, and you know you’re about to hear the sweetest thing ever. like, “did i ever tell you how dreamy you look in that light? i can’t stop looking at you,” and even though he’s just talking about the orange-ish hues of your bedside lamp, you know he’s being 100% honest.

— joshua: by saying it out loud

“you’re the prettiest” while you’re brushing your teeth, “you look so gorgeous” when he’s picking you up in his car, or just your usual “hey beautiful” when you wake up in the morning. he never gets tired of saying it and you never get tired of hearing it. he barely uses your name anymore because he’s so used to calling you ‘beautiful’. the man is so smitten he could spend hours flirting with you, years into the relationship. and it’s even better if you’re easily flustered because he loves how shy you get when you hear those words…

— jun: with cuddles

there’s something about the way his fingers mindlessly trace your silhouette that makes you feel like the most delicate sculpture ever. you could just be cuddling in silence, reading a book or scrolling on your phone, and his hands will gently brush against your skin like they were made to do that and nothing else. sometimes you feel like returning the favor, but although he doesn’t mind it at all, it’ll never come close to how much he loves cherishing you with his cuddles.

— hoshi: by being your #1 hypeman

even though you’re someone that brings hoshi a lot of peace and serenity, your mere existence also gets him very excited for no apparent reason. the way he hypes you up whenever you’re getting ready to go out together is similar to the way people cheer for their favorite sports team. he’s celebrating two things: you being absolutely gorgeous, and him being lucky enough to be your partner. “honestly, if i saw you walking down the street without being the one dating you… i think i’d start crying.”

— wonwoo: by taking pictures

it’s not just him taking pictures that makes you feel beautiful, it’s the way he treats his photographs as if they’re the most precious things he owns. he regularly makes sure that they’re synchronized on his personal icloud account in case he ever loses them (it’s very serious to him). but also, he keeps a picture of you on his desk, in his wallet, as his phone wallpaper… and everyone thinks it’s the sweetest thing ever. the guys tried to tease him for it at first, but they quickly gave up because even they had to admit it’s an adorable way to express his love for you.

— woozi: with meaningful looks

it’s a rare occurrence to catch woozi in the act of being incredibly down bad for you. but it sometimes happens when you notice him looking at you with heart-shaped eyes and a smile tugging at his lips. you could be sitting on the other side of a room and his gaze would still find you in a second, lingering for a few seconds just to appreciate your beauty. he said so himself actually, when you asked him why he was looking at you so frequently. “everyone likes looking at beautiful things,” he replied very naturally, not picking up on the squeal you had to hold back.

— dokyeom: by talking about you

“y/n would love that”. “this would look amazing on y/n”. “oh look, y/n just sent me a pic!”. it’s a daily occurrence, and everyone knows they just have to deal with it. some boyfriends might try to gatekeep their partner: that’s not dokyeom’s case at all. in fact, people better be complimenting you in front of him! to be honest, he was talking about you non-stop before you guys even started dating, which is why you barely had to introduce yourself to his friends. you’re one of his proudest accomplishments and he wants the whole world to know about you!!

— mingyu: with kisses

there’s nothing like being kissed by mingyu to feel a sudden boost of self-confidence. his hands gently cupping your cheeks, the way he looks at you in between kisses and the growing smile in his eyes and on his lips… everything in his behavior seems tailor-made to make you feel like a vision of heaven. it doesn’t always have to be kisses on your lips tho, sometimes it’s on the back of your hand, on your shoulder or on your temple. but no matter where his lips touch your skin, they always convey just how much he cherishes you and every inch of your body.

— minghao: by drawing you

no other representation of yourself makes you feel as self-confident as minghao’s drawings of you. at first you were a bit taken aback by the feeling of seeing yourself through someone else’s perspective in such a raw way. but you got used to it pretty quickly, mostly because of how often minghao uses you as a reference. when you take a closer look at them, you realize his drawings are filled with details that not only depict your looks, but also traits of your personality. slowly but surely, you start to believe in the beauty he consistently finds in you, and that’s enough to let him know he’s doing a perfect job.

— seungkwan: by complimenting your insecurities

he doesn’t do it that often because he doesn’t want it to be the only thing he compliments you on. but seungkwan is very attentive to the way you perceive yourself so he will guess your insecurities even if you don’t talk about them out loud. therefore, he’ll find subtle ways to compliment them without making it too obvious. sometimes it’s not even out loud, it might just be by gently brushing against a body part you’re not confident in, or hyping you up in an outfit that doesn’t hide your insecurity. no matter how he does it, it always comes with such kindness and love that you have no choice but to feel a bit prettier than you did seconds ago.

— vernon: by paying attention

it sounds silly but it’s true. vernon pays attention to everything, from the colors you look most confident in, to what kind of compliments seem to work best on you. and later on, he’s able to adapt his behavior accordingly, to make you feel as good as possible in any situation. “you always know exactly what say, i don’t know how you do it,” you once told him, almost teary from how sweet he was being. “well, the fact that you strongly underestimate how beautiful you are is an insanely good motivation,” he replied, gently wiping the tears under your lash line.

— dino: by showing you off

he considers you the rarest gem of all, so yes of course he will show you off to whoever’s near! he’s the type of boyfriend that will enter a room before you just because he wants to do jazz hands for your entry. and he has such a smug look on his face when you two are out together, it’s like he’s in a permanent state of pride just because you’re holding hands in public. and although he’s not huge on pda, he has no problem complimenting you out loud in front of other people, and you find yourself on his instagram stories on a regular basis, which makes your self-esteem go up a notch every single time.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

[creamflix]

GODS AND MONSTERS — sukuna x female reader [oneshot]

summary: a thousand years stretch thin between love and loss. sukuna carries the weight of a life unfulfilled, and you, unknowingly, ache for something you can't name. when fate threads your paths together once more, will the echoes of a forgotten bond be enough to heal what time has unraveled?

content warnings: big three (fluff, angst, smut). smutty content [soft sex/p in v/unprotected/creampies/breeding kink/body worship/praise/posessiveness/ oral & fingering (f. receiving)] reader death and reincarnation in modern day world, mentions of violence/killing and gore, soft sukuna, implied heinen era, uraume mentioned, angst with a happy ending

read on ao3!

the king of curses sat in the suffocating stillness of his endless existence, the weight of time pressing heavy on his shoulders. his once-mighty form, feared by all, now hunched under the burden of a life that had lost its purpose. uraume had long since perished, their unwavering loyalty a mere memory now, one more fragment of the life he had left behind. sukuna’s claws had been idle for centuries, yet the echoes of his rampages reverberated in the emptiness of his soul. 

for what?

he’d asked himself this question for centuries, the edges of the thought dulling like the once-sharp memories of the one he fought for. you. whoever you were. he remembered only pieces — a laugh like sunlight on water, a touch that once brought him to his knees. but the details? gone.

his queen. his beloved.

your name, your face, your voice — they’d all blurred into a hazy outline, cruelly erased by the passing millennia.

until today.

he wandered through the chaos of the modern world with the same detachment he’d carried for centuries, only vaguely aware of the noise and light surrounding him. the buzz of something humans called technology swarmed in his ears, but none of it mattered.

then he felt it.

a shiver ran down his spine — alien, electric, alive. his steps faltered, his hands twitching at his sides. and when he lifted his gaze, there you were.

a colossal billboard loomed above him, glowing against the twilight sky. and there was your face. your face.

you were dressed in modern clothes, nothing like the regal silks and gold he remembered. your hair was different, your posture foreign, but your eyes — they were the same. the curve of your lips sent a jolt through him, and the name emblazoned across the billboard hit him like a curse:

y/n - world tour starts tonight.

“...no.” sukuna’s voice cracked, the sound foreign even to his ears. his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood, as a wave of raw emotion surged through him. “no... it can’t...”

the tears came before he realized what was happening, hot streaks down his face that carved into his hardened visage like rivers into stone.

“it’s you...” he whispered, his voice trembling. “you came back.”

the memories slammed into him then, a cruel gift from the depths of his long-forgotten soul.

“you can’t die before me, you hear me?” you had said with a teasing smile, pressing your palm against his chest. “i’ll haunt you for eternity if you do.”

“as if i’d let you go first,” he’d replied, brushing your hair aside. his voice had been firm, commanding, but his eyes betrayed his desperation. “you belong to me, in life or in death.”

but you had gone first, hadn’t you? you left him behind, shattering him in a way even the strongest opponents never could.

the world around him blurred as he staggered back, unable to process what he was seeing. you were alive. reborn.

the billboard taunted him with your image, a ghost of the past mingling with the present. your name, your face, your existence — it was no illusion. the bond he’d once treasured but had long since forgotten pulled at him like a chain around his neck.

“you didn’t wait for me...” his voice cracked, a low growl laced with anguish. “but you’re here now.”

with newfound determination, sukuna’s claws flexed. a spark of purpose reignited in his crimson eyes. he would find you. nothing — no mortal, no curse, no god — would keep him from you now.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sukuna sat in the darkened corner of the venue, an invisible shadow among the throng of humans screaming your name. the irony wasn't lost on him: you, who once belonged solely to him, now belonged to them — a god in their eyes, worshipped by their cheers and adoration.

you stepped onto the stage, bathed in an ethereal glow, and sukuna’s breath caught in his throat. you were magnificent, the power you exuded rivaling the strength of your past self. your voice rang out, rich and hauntingly familiar, threading through his soul like a melody he had clung to in his loneliest nights.

but when your gaze swept over the audience and landed on him, it was as if the world stopped.

his heart, once hardened by centuries of blood and despair, cracked at the faint flicker in your eyes. the recognition was there, brief as a shadow crossing the sun. your lips parted slightly, your brow furrowing as if you were trying to place him.

and then it was gone.

the realization stung more than any blade ever had. you didn’t know him. the face you had traced with reverent fingers, the body you had clung to as if it were your lifeline — it meant nothing to you now.

sukuna leaned back in his seat, his crimson eyes never leaving you. he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms until blood dripped onto the floor.

how could you not know me?

he had watched entire civilizations fall, mountains crumble, and oceans dry, but this — this was worse than any apocalypse. the tables had turned so cruelly that he almost laughed. you had been his queen, his everything, and now, he was nothing more than a nameless face in the crowd.

the song ended, and the thunderous applause jolted him from his thoughts. he saw you bow gracefully, your smile dazzling and far removed from the quiet, intimate ones you reserved for him.

but as the lights dimmed and you walked off stage, a flicker of something passed over your face — a hesitation, a pause.

you were looking for something. or someone.

sukuna’s claws twitched at his side. could you feel it, even now? the tether that bound us? or had that, too, been severed?

he stood abruptly, his towering frame casting a shadow against the neon lights. the humans around him flinched but paid him no mind, their excitement for your encore drowning out the strange presence among them.

you were close enough for him to feel, to smell, to sense every tremor of your soul. but he couldn’t touch you. not yet.

“is this what it feels like?” he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the noise. “to be forgotten by the one who once knew me better than anyone?”

he let his head tilt back, crimson eyes closing briefly. the memories surged forth unbidden.

“kuna,” you had said once, your eyes closed. your hands reached out, finding his face with unnerving precision. “don’t move.”

he hadn’t. and you had traced his jawline, the sharp curve of his nose, the furrowed lines of his forehead.

“i’d know you anywhere,” you had whispered, your voice soft and certain. “even if the world burned around us, i’d find you.”

but now? your gaze had brushed past him, the faint recognition extinguished before it could ignite.

he moved toward the backstage entrance, his aura commanding even in its restraint. the guards hesitated, their instincts warning them of something primal, something ancient. they stepped aside without understanding why.

as he neared the corridor where you stood, signing autographs and smiling for photographs, he paused. his hands trembled slightly, the weight of millennia pressing down on him.

how do you confront someone who once promised to find you in any lifetime but now looks at you like a stranger?

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the backstage was chaos, the kind that always followed a sold-out performance. your team swarmed around you, fussing over makeup touch-ups, post-show interviews, and wardrobe changes. yet, their chatter and praise fell on deaf ears. you sat on the plush chair in front of a vanity, staring blankly at your reflection.

you were supposed to be happy — ecstatic, even. this was the dream you’d worked tirelessly for, wasn’t it? and yet, as you sang those sugar-sweet songs to a crowd of adoring fans, the ache in your chest only deepened.

yearning was a funny thing. you had been chasing something your entire life, channeling it into melodies that felt raw and true. but the industry had its claws in you now, morphing your art into polished, soulless hits about first loves and fleeting crushes.

you sighed, pressing your palms to your temples. something was missing. you didn’t know what, but it gnawed at you, an emptiness that no amount of applause could fill.

then came the commotion.

the door to the backstage area slammed open, the sound cutting through the noise like a whip. the air shifted, heavy and electric, and for some reason, every hair on your body stood on end.

you turned, and there he was.

a towering man with wild, spiked hair and piercing crimson eyes strode into the room, his presence so commanding that your team froze in place. whispers erupted around you, someone asking who he was, but no one dared to stop him.

his gaze locked onto yours, and the room seemed to vanish.

your chest tightened, the ache that had been with you for as long as you could remember suddenly stopping. just like that.

you didn’t know him. not by name, not by face. and yet, as he stood there, staring at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch, it felt like you should.

“who...” your voice came out a whisper, barely audible above the silence that had fallen.

he didn’t answer immediately. his crimson eyes softened, just for a moment, and you saw something flicker in them — pain, longing, desperation.

“you feel it too, don’t you?” he asked finally, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine.

feel what? you didn’t know what he was talking about, but tears pricked at your eyes anyway. a strange, overwhelming frustration bubbled to the surface, a storm of emotions you couldn’t name.

“i don’t understand,” you murmured, your hands clenching the fabric of your dress.

his expression shifted, his jaw tightening as if your words caused him physical pain. he took a step closer, and your breath caught again.

“you’re not supposed to,” he said quietly, his tone almost bitter. “not yet.”

your vision blurred as tears threatened to spill over. why did this stranger — this man you had never met — make you feel like this? like your heart was both breaking and being made whole all at once?

“why do i feel like i know you?” the words slipped out before you could stop them, your voice trembling.

he exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of something unseen.

“because you do,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less intense. “or you did.”

the cryptic answer only frustrated you more, and a tear slipped down your cheek. you looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer, but he stepped closer, closing the distance.

his hand hovered near your face, as if he wanted to wipe the tear away but didn’t dare to touch you. he wanted to reach out, to touch you, to trace the lines of your face as you once had his, but he didn’t. he couldn’t.

“don’t cry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. there was something in it — something raw and aching — that made your chest tighten again. “not for me.”

“then what for?” you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended. “why does it feel like i’ve lost something i can’t even remember?”

his expression broke for a split second, a crack in his carefully controlled facade. he looked down, his jaw clenching.

“because you have,” he admitted finally. “but it’s not your fault.”

you stared at him, the tears falling freely now. “who are you?”

he met your gaze again, his crimson eyes burning with something ancient, something eternal.

“someone who will never stop looking for you,” he said simply, and with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you with nothing but the echo of his presence and the strange, heavy silence he left behind.

because now, the power lay with you. the king of curses was no longer the one sought out in a crowd. you were the untouchable one, the star shining so brightly that even he, a god among curses, felt small beneath your light.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

grief was supposed to follow loss, but how could you lose someone you never had? it didn’t make sense, this hollow ache in your chest. the man had been a storm, sweeping into your carefully constructed world and leaving just as abruptly, like a phantom that no one else seemed to notice.

you sat in the empty dressing room, the after-show glow long faded, replaced by a cold, suffocating silence. your head was in your hands, your thoughts a jumbled mess as you replayed the encounter over and over.

“no one saw him?” you had asked, desperation creeping into your voice. your crew had exchanged confused looks, some shaking their heads while others muttered that maybe you were overworked, imagining things.

but you knew better.

he was real. the way his presence made the air feel heavier, the way his crimson eyes seemed to peer straight into your soul — those weren’t things your mind could conjure on its own.

yet, there was no trace of him.

no name, no explanation. no footsteps leading to or from the backstage area. it was as if he had materialized out of thin air and dissolved back into it.

you leaned back in your chair, staring at the ceiling as tears pricked at your eyes again. why do i care? you thought bitterly, wiping at your face with the heel of your hand.

but you knew why.

there had been something in his voice, something in the way he looked at you. he spoke as if he knew you, as if he had been waiting for you.

and now he was gone.

your chest tightened, a grief so raw and sudden that it almost took your breath away. how could you feel this way for someone who had stormed in and left without so much as a name?

you clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms. “why didn’t i stop him?” you muttered to yourself, the frustration bubbling to the surface. you should have done something, anything, to keep him there, to demand answers to the questions that now haunted you.

but you didn’t. and now, all you had was an empty dressing room and a gnawing ache that wouldn’t go away.

you closed your eyes, the memory of his face flashing behind your eyelids. there had been something so familiar about him, something that made your heart ache even now.

who was he?

and why did it feel like losing him was the greatest tragedy of your life?

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the small cafe was quiet, a sanctuary away from the chaos of your everyday life. the hum of soft chatter and the gentle clink of cups were a soothing background as you stared at the menu, pretending it was the most interesting thing in the world. the matcha latte was supposed to be your solace today. not a solution, but a temporary distraction from the gnawing emptiness in your chest.

then you felt it.

that same heaviness in the air, that same electric charge.

you didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. the man who had crashed into your world and disappeared just as quickly. your grip on the menu tightened as your pulse quickened.

slowly, you looked over your shoulder, and there he was. standing near the door, his crimson eyes fixed on you like he had known you’d be here. like he’d been searching for you all along.

the tension between you was palpable, a thousand unsaid words hanging in the space between. neither of you spoke, but the look in his eyes said enough. you needed to talk.

and now, here you were, sitting across from him in a corner booth. your cap and mask were still on, a feeble attempt to cling to anonymity. your hands rested on the table, dangerously close to his, as if your subconscious craved the contact your mind wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

his hands were larger than yours, decorated with black tattoos that curved and twisted like they belonged to something ancient and untouchable. his nails were sharp, almost claw-like, yet they didn’t scare you.

your own hands, smaller and calloused from years of training and performing, felt almost fragile in comparison. but there was a quiet strength in them too, a resilience that had carried you through the ups and downs of your career.

you didn’t know where to start. you couldn’t even find the words, but he didn’t seem to mind. his gaze was steady, almost unbearably intense, as if he was memorizing every detail of you all over again.

“you came back,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

he tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “i never left,” he said simply, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

you frowned, your fingers curling against the table. “what does that even mean? you disappeared. no one saw you leave that night.”

he exhaled slowly, his eyes briefly dropping to where your hands were resting — so close, yet not touching. “because no one was meant to,” he said, his tone soft but firm.

frustration bubbled up inside you, but it was laced with something else — something warmer. “who are you?” you asked, your voice trembling. “and why do i feel like i know you?”

he was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. when he finally spoke, his voice was lower, almost reverent. “you do know me. or at least, you used to.”

your chest tightened, the ache from before returning with a vengeance. “why does it feel like i’m grieving someone i don’t even remember?”

his hand shifted slightly, the tips of his fingers brushing yours so lightly that it was almost imperceptible. your breath caught, the touch sending a jolt of something raw and familiar through you.

“because you are,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “and so am i.”

you stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. there was so much you didn’t understand, but one thing was clear — this man, whoever he was, held answers to the questions that had haunted you for as long as you could remember.

“then help me understand,” you said softly, your voice laced with both desperation and hope.

his gaze softened, and for the first time, you saw something vulnerable in those crimson eyes. “i will,” he promised, his voice steady. “but it’s not an easy story to tell.”

you nodded, your fingers shifting just slightly closer to his, closing the already minuscule gap. “i’m listening.”

and for the first time in what felt like forever, the ache in your chest began to ease.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sukuna remembered the first time he laid eyes on you, though he doubted you would recall it the same way. it had been an unremarkable day by his standards — a patrol of one of his many estates, more out of habit than necessity. the land was prosperous, the people obedient, and the daimyo appointed here hadn’t caused any notable stirrings.

but then, as his entourage approached the training grounds near the estate, his attention was drawn to a rider galloping across the field. the figure cut a striking image — your posture proud, your hands steady on the reins. you rode with skill, commanding the horse with practiced ease, and for a moment, sukuna almost dismissed you as another faceless warrior in his service.

then you fell.

it wasn’t a subtle tumble either. your horse reared slightly, startled by something unseen, and in the blink of an eye, you were unseated, hitting the ground with a thud that echoed even from a distance. sukuna’s men stiffened, unsure of whether to laugh or feign concern, but sukuna himself let out a sharp bark of laughter.

it wasn’t the kind of laugh that came when he watched enemies crumble under his might or when someone dared to challenge him. this was different — lighter, unguarded.

“a warrior brought to the ground by her own steed,” he drawled, his deep voice carrying across the field. his crimson eyes sparkled with something rare — genuine amusement.

you scrambled to your feet, brushing dirt off your clothes with quick, agitated movements. your face was flushed, whether from embarrassment or anger, he couldn’t tell, but the sight only deepened his grin.

his words reached you, and you froze, looking up sharply. it wasn’t difficult to spot him — he was a towering presence, clad in dark robes with his unmistakable tattoos marking his skin. the king of curses himself, watching you with an expression that was almost mocking.

your brows furrowed, and despite the clear difference in your statuses, you square your shoulders, tilting your chin up in defiance.

“i did not fall,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the heat in your cheeks.

sukuna arched a brow, his grin widening. “is that so?” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “and here i thought my eyes were deceiving me. perhaps the earth simply leapt up to greet you?”

your lips thinned, but you refused to back down. “the saddle was loose,” you replied, pulling your horse’s reins as you approached it. “a simple mistake, nothing more.”

his men exchanged glances, some barely holding back snickers, but sukuna held up a hand to silence them. his gaze never left you, his interest piqued.

“a simple mistake,” he repeated, his voice low and almost teasing. “and yet you wear your indignation like armor. tell me, do you always deny the obvious, or is it just when faced with your lord?”

you stiffened, your grip on the reins tightening. “i deny nothing,” you said, your tone sharper now. “but i will not be mocked, not even by you.”

silence fell over the field, the audacity of your words hanging in the air. anyone else would have been cut down where they stood for speaking to him like that, but sukuna found himself… amused.

you turned sharply, leading your horse away with determined strides. “if you’ll excuse me, my lord,” you called over your shoulder, your voice tight with frustration, “i have duties to attend to.”

he watched you go, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

“bold,” he murmured to himself, his voice carrying only to uraume, who stood at his side.

“foolish,” uraume replied flatly, though there was no missing the slight edge of disapproval in their tone.

“perhaps,” sukuna said, his gaze lingering on your retreating figure. “but foolishness is far more entertaining than obedience.”

later, he learned your name. he learned that you were the daimyo appointed to oversee this estate, selected by uraume themselves for your loyalty and reliability.

but it wasn’t loyalty or reliability that interested him. it was the fire in your eyes, the way you stormed off without looking back, the sheer audacity to stand tall in front of him despite the yawning chasm of power between you.

“interesting,” he had murmured that day, more to himself than to anyone else.

and in the days that followed, he found himself returning to that estate more often than was necessary, under the guise of ensuring its prosperity. in truth, it wasn’t the land or the people he cared for — it was you.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the title of daimyo had not been handed to you — it was a role you had earned through sheer determination and relentless hard work. it was no small feat for a woman to rise to such a position, and you owed much of it to uraume, who, despite their often sharp demeanor, had seen something in you worth trusting.

“boldness isn’t the same as foolishness,” uraume had once said when they appointed you, their words clipped and eyes cool. “but tread carefully. the king is not known for his patience.”

you hadn’t exactly kept that in mind when you first met the king. the memory of your words and actions made you panic even now, weeks later. to stand tall in defiance of the king of curses? to argue with him over something as trivial as falling off a horse? foolish was an understatement.

“you’re lucky to still be breathing,” uraume had remarked when you’d recounted the incident, their tone a mix of exasperation and incredulity.

and they were right. the more you thought about it, the more you realized how dangerously close you had come to overstepping. so when word reached you that sukuna was to patrol the estate again, your nerves frayed at the edges. you resolved to be different this time, to show the respect that was expected of you.

when his entourage arrived, you greeted him with a deep bow, your tone subdued as you welcomed him to the estate. you kept your gaze low, your demeanor quiet.

it didn’t take long for sukuna to notice the change. his crimson eyes narrowed as he observed you, his expression unreadable but heavy with something that felt like dissatisfaction.

“you’ve changed,” he said bluntly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

you swallowed, keeping your head bowed. “i have reflected on my behavior, my lord,” you said carefully, your voice steady despite the tension in the air.

sukuna’s gaze bore into you, and the weight of his attention was almost unbearable. “reflected,” he repeated, his tone sharp with mockery. “and decided what? to cower like a whipped dog?”

your breath caught in your throat, but you didn’t dare respond.

he scoffed, the sound low and disdainful. “pathetic. where is the woman who stormed off in defiance, who claimed the saddle was loose? where is the fire?”

your head snapped up, surprise flickering across your face. “my lord?”

his lips curled into a smirk, though there was no amusement in it. “if you think i spared you because i want another obedient puppet, you are sorely mistaken,” he said, his voice low and cutting. “live as you were, with that stubbornness and defiance. but know your place.”

you blinked at him, your mind reeling. was this… approval?

sukuna turned on his heel, his robes billowing as he strode away. the air seemed to lighten with his departure, and you found yourself exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

a small smile tugged at your lips, and you quickly pressed them together to suppress it. still, your head felt lighter, your chest less constricted.

“know your place,” you muttered under your breath, mimicking his tone. and for the first time in weeks, you felt a little more like yourself.

your head held higher, you watched him leave, the weight of fear easing just enough to let a sliver of confidence shine through.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

it was no secret that the king of curses rarely lingered in one place for long — his attention span as fleeting as a passing storm. yet, for reasons only he could justify (or perhaps couldn’t), sukuna spent more time at your estate than his own court, a fact that didn’t escape the whispers of those around you. no one dared to call you his favorite, of course; favoritism wasn’t a concept to be associated with a king as ruthless as him. yet, the pattern of his visits made it hard to deny.

“show me around,” he demanded one afternoon, his voice carrying the weight of authority as he stood at the edge of the estate.

you paused, glancing at him with a mixture of confusion and exasperation. “my lord, this is your estate,” you pointed out, your tone measured but with a faint edge of teasing. “surely you know it better than anyone.”

his crimson eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing through them. “did i stutter?”

you sighed, realizing it was futile to argue. whether bound by duty or something far more perplexing, you relented, gesturing for him to follow. “very well,” you said, leading the way.

despite your reservations, sukuna seemed unusually at ease during these tours. he didn’t bark orders or glare with his usual intensity. instead, he followed closely, his eyes lingering on you more often than the landscape. and though he’d never admit it, his steps slowed whenever you stopped to admire something, as though he were more interested in your reactions than the scenery itself.

at one point, you passed the estate’s orchards, the branches heavy with ripe fruit. you paused, the sight momentarily breaking through your careful composure.

“shall i have someone pick some for you, my lord?” you offered, gesturing to the trees.

sukuna crossed his arms, his lips curling into a smirk. “no,” he said, his voice low and almost teasing. “you’ll do it.”

your brows furrowed, confused by the demand. “me?”

he stepped closer, his towering presence impossible to ignore. “it tastes sweeter when you do,” he said simply, as though it were the most logical thing in the world.

you blinked at him, unsure whether to be flustered or annoyed. his gaze didn’t waver, and with a resigned sigh, you plucked a fruit from the nearest branch and held it out to him.

he took it, his sharp claws brushing against your fingers as he did, and for a moment, the air felt heavier. you didn’t look up, focusing instead on the ground, but you could feel his gaze burning into you.

“acceptable,” he said after taking a bite, his tone nonchalant but his eyes betraying a flicker of satisfaction.

then there were the horseback races. what started as an offhand comment about your riding skills turned into an almost ritualistic challenge.

“again,” sukuna barked one day, his voice ringing with competitive fervor as you both slowed your horses after yet another lap around the estate.

you panted, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face as you shot him a glare. “are you ever satisfied, my lord?”

“not yet,” he replied, his smirk widening as he urged his horse forward again.

you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you as you gave chase, the wind whipping past your face. the exhilaration of the race, the pounding of hooves against the ground — it was intoxicating. and though you tried to focus on the path ahead, you felt his eyes on you the entire time.

“don’t fall this time,” he teased, his voice carrying over the rush of wind.

you turned your head just enough to shoot him a playful glare. “only if you can keep up,” you shot back.

his laughter — low, deep, and genuine — rumbled behind you, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as though the weight of his title had been stripped away. he wasn’t the king of curses, and you weren’t just a daimyo. you were two souls caught in a moment of reckless freedom, the lines between duty and affection blurring with each race and shared glance.

was this flirting? you weren’t sure. but whatever it was, it made your chest feel lighter and your heart race faster, though whether from the thrill of the ride or his gaze, you couldn’t say.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

romance was a phrase people threw around with ease — quiet evenings, shared whispers, fleeting touches. but for you and the king of curses, it was something far more visceral. your unspoken language was in the clash of blades, in the crackling tension of your sparring matches, where sweat dripped, breaths mingled, and the world narrowed down to just the two of you.

your blade met his with a ringing clash, the sheer force of his strikes reverberating through your bones. sukuna’s strength was monstrous, his skill unmatched, and you knew he was holding back. his smirk as he parried your blows told you as much.

“is that all, little daimyo?” he teased, his voice dripping with mockery as he sidestepped your next strike with infuriating ease.

you didn’t answer, too focused on the swing of your blade, the shifting of your weight as you lunged again. the cuts on your arms and legs stung, a testament to his superiority, but you refused to yield.

“persistent, aren’t you?” he said, amusement dancing in his crimson eyes as he deflected yet another attack.

you glared at him, panting. “someone has to keep you in check, my lord.”

his laughter boomed, loud and unapologetic, as he disarmed you with a flick of his wrist. your sword clattered to the ground, and before you could react, he swept your legs out from under you. you hit the dirt with a dull thud, the wind knocked from your lungs.

he loomed over you, his broad frame casting a shadow as he planted his blade into the ground beside you. leaning forward, he rested an arm casually on his knee, his expression caught somewhere between triumph and amusement.

“checkmate,” he drawled, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smirk.

you groaned, your body aching from the strain of the fight, and stared up at him. “you’re impossible.”

and then, it happened. neither of you knew what sparked it — perhaps it was the absurdity of it all, the sight of you battered and bruised yet unyielding, or the way he, the king of curses, had momentarily shed his ruthless demeanor.

you laughed.

it started as a small chuckle, then grew into something deeper, uncontrollable. the sound bubbled from your chest, raw and unrestrained.

sukuna stared at you for a moment, his smirk faltering. then, to your astonishment, his own laughter joined yours. it was deep and resonant, free of mockery or menace. just laughter, pure and unrestrained, as though the weight of his title and your station had been lifted, leaving only two souls in the moment.

“you’re insane,” you said between breaths, still laughing as you wiped the blood from your lip.

“says the one who challenges me to fights they can’t win,” he shot back, his grin broadening.

and for that fleeting moment, it didn’t matter that you were lying on the ground, bruised and exhausted, or that he was the most feared being to walk the earth. there was no need for declarations, no flowery words to bind the two of you together. it just was.

the unspoken bond, forged not in tender touches or whispered confessions but in steel and resolve, felt stronger than anything else. and as your laughter faded into a shared silence, you felt it — that indescribable understanding that, in this chaotic, violent world, you had found something rare. something that just was.

dust settled on the sparring ground, the aftermath of your brutal yet exhilarating match with the king of curses. sukuna loomed over you, the faintest sheen of sweat on his brow, though he was far from winded. meanwhile, you lay sprawled in the dirt, catching your breath.

"get up," he said, his tone a little softer than usual, offering a hand down to you.

you blinked up at him, hesitant. “i can manage, my lord.”

“don’t argue,” he grumbled, his hand unwavering.

reluctantly, you reached up. his hand engulfed yours, rough with calluses and strong enough to crush bones, yet his grip was surprisingly gentle as he pulled you upright. for a fleeting moment, his fingers lingered on yours, tracing the small scars and nicks etched into your palms.

you didn’t think much of it at first, brushing dirt off your armor. but then —

“rear my children.”

you froze. your head snapped up to meet his crimson eyes, which for once seemed to betray a flicker of uncertainty. “...excuse me?”

he cleared his throat, looking distinctly uncomfortable — a rare sight for someone who usually exuded unwavering confidence. “i mean — you’re strong,” he blurted out, his words rushed and awkward. “your resolve, your... grit. admirable qualities. for a mother. of warriors. my warriors.”

your face heated instantly, the flush creeping up to your ears. “m-my lord, that’s… a rather sudden proposal!”

“it’s not a proposal!” he shot back, his voice raising an octave, uncharacteristically defensive. “just… an observation. a logical one. who wouldn’t want strong heirs?”

you stammered, trying and failing to form coherent words. “i — well — that’s —”

“it’s practical,” he continued, as if convincing himself more than you. “you’re disciplined. resilient. not to mention... stubborn as hell.”

“and you think stubbornness is a good trait in a mother?” you finally managed to ask, your voice squeaking slightly.

he faltered, his ears reddening ever so slightly. “well, it’s not... bad.”

the two of you stood there, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. sukuna, the fearsome king of curses, was fidgeting. his hand still lingered on yours, and it felt like the entire world had gone quiet save for the sound of your racing heart.

“what do you say?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost tentative.

you blinked rapidly, trying to process what was happening. “i — uh — ”

and then it hit you, the absurdity of it all. the great and terrible sukuna was asking — no, suggesting — something so utterly domestic and human. you couldn’t help but let out a small, breathless laugh, burying your face in your free hand to hide the burning flush on your cheeks.

“is that a no?” he asked, his tone bristling with the faintest hint of impatience, though the uncertainty in his eyes betrayed him.

“i didn’t say that!” you squeaked, peeking through your fingers.

he raised a brow, his smirk creeping back into place, though it was softer than usual. “then what are you saying?”

you groaned, unable to meet his gaze as you mumbled through your hands, “i’m… not opposed.”

for a moment, the world seemed to pause. sukuna tilted his head, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were suppressing a smile.

“not opposed, huh?” he repeated, his voice low, almost teasing.

“don’t make me say it again!” you snapped, your embarrassment reaching its peak.

“hmm,” he mused, finally letting go of your hands, though the warmth of his touch lingered. “practical indeed.”

as you glared at him, still flustered beyond belief, he turned away, his back to you. he was clearly trying to act unaffected, but the faint upward curve of his lips gave him away.

and sukuna? he thought to himself with the faintest hint of pride, maybe smiling isn’t so bad after all.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

how you went from a daimyo to the wife of the king of curses, you couldn’t quite fathom. one day, you were overseeing harvests and managing disputes, and the next, you were draped in silks too fine for your roughened hands, adjusting to the weight of a title you never sought.

sukuna, however, seemed unbothered by the incongruity of it all. he had simply decided that you were to be his wife, and what sukuna decided became reality. your hesitant protests, your concerns about abandoning your duties to the estate — none of it phased him.

“then stay here,” he’d said with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if it were the simplest solution in the world. “i’ll come to you when i wish.”

uraume, ever the loyal servant, had been aghast. they didn’t voice it, of course, but their disapproval was palpable. yet beneath their furrowed brow and pursed lips, there was a flicker of something else — pride. pride that their lord, fearsome and untouchable, had chosen someone with your mettle.

you were still adjusting to your new role when sukuna visited the estate for the first time as your husband. he was unceremonious about it, arriving without warning, striding into your chambers as if it were his rightful place.

“what’s this?” he asked, eyeing the bright silk robe draped over your shoulders.

“your people insisted,” you replied, tugging self-consciously at the fabric.

he snorted, crossing his arms as his gaze swept over you. “you look like a peacock.”

you froze, your grip tightening on the sash. “a peacock?” you repeated, your tone dangerously low.

“hmm,” he mused, leaning lazily against the doorframe. “not a bad thing. regal, loud, a bit ridiculous — suits you.”

your glare could have set the silk ablaze. “is this your idea of flattery, my lord?”

he chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made your cheeks burn. “only telling the truth.”

“then here’s some truth for you,” you shot back, your voice sharp as a blade. “perhaps you should spend more time governing your lands and less time critiquing my attire.”

for a moment, there was silence. then, to your astonishment, sukuna laughed — a genuine, unrestrained laugh that echoed through the room.

“bold as ever,” he said, stepping closer. his crimson eyes softened ever so slightly as he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “it’s what i like about you.”

your breath hitched at the unexpected intimacy, but before you could respond, he pulled away, his smirk firmly back in place.

“come,” he said, turning toward the door. “there’s work to be done.”

and just like that, your marriage was sealed — not with a grand ceremony or a formal declaration, but with sharp words, shared laughter, and a silent understanding that spoke volumes.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

uraume had been left in charge of state matters, their protests falling on deaf ears as sukuna waved them off with a smug grin. "you’re competent enough to handle it," he’d said, the dismissiveness in his tone making uraume's temples throb. they could only bow in grudging acceptance, watching their king stride off to the estate like a man with nothing but time on his hands.

his first night as your husband was spent testing your patience. “it’s tradition,” he declared with a grin that was more wolfish than charming. “we’re supposed to consummate the marriage.”

you had stared at him, unimpressed. “it’s tradition to do so willingly. i don’t see any willing party here.”

his grin faltered, replaced by a mock glare. “a king shouldn’t have to beg his wife.”

“then don’t.”

his brow twitched at your quick retort, and though he tried to argue further, your unyielding stare — a mix of warrior resolve and exhausted defiance — silenced him. eventually, he grumbled, “fine. no bedding. but you’ll sleep here, with me.”

you’d crossed your arms. “on opposite sides of the bed.”

“skin to skin,” he countered, clearly enjoying the bargaining.

“over my dead body.”

“bold of you to assume i wouldn’t oblige.”

the back-and-forth ended with a compromise that involved his bare chest pressed against your back, his arms draped over you like iron shackles. “this is hardly ‘opposite sides,’” you muttered as you felt his warm breath on the nape of your neck.

“you’re warm,” he murmured, his tone almost soft, and that was the end of it.

or so he thought. because the king of curses, who had never known caution, underestimated the awareness of a daimyo — a warrior trained to detect even the faintest signs of an enemy’s advance. when his hand began to creep lower towards your legs during the night, you intercepted it with a grip so firm that his eyes snapped open in shock.

“don’t push your luck, my lord,” you whispered without turning, your voice cutting through the dark like a blade.

to his credit, he chuckled, more impressed than annoyed. “fine,” he relented, withdrawing his hand. “you win this time.”

morning came, the soft light of dawn spilling into the room. sukuna, who rarely stayed still for long, remained entangled with you, his larger frame curled protectively around your smaller one. for the first time in centuries, his guard was down. and when your lips parted to murmur his name — soft and reverent, like a prayer — he froze.

“...sukuna.”

it was just a whisper, but it held a weight that he couldn’t explain. something in his chest tightened, a foreign warmth spreading through him as he stared at your peaceful face, your lashes fluttering against your cheek.

“damn you,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with awe.

because for all his conquests and power, for all the women who had once vied for his attention, none had ever made him feel like this. none had ever whispered his name like it was a blessing, like it was sacred.

and in that moment, as he held you closer, sukuna knew — he had never loved a woman the way he loved you.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the days following your marriage passed with an ease that felt both strange and natural. your routines remained the same in essence — horse-riding through the vast lands, plucking the ripest fruits from the orchards, and patrolling the estate to ensure its prosperity — but now, there was a shared intimacy, a silent acknowledgment that you were no longer alone in these moments. sukuna accompanied you everywhere, his presence both imposing and comforting.

you’d ride side by side, your horses kicking up dust as laughter rang out in the open air. sukuna, who once considered these lands beneath his attention, now seemed to find joy in every mundane detail of life here.

“you’re slipping,” you teased him one afternoon, presenting a basket filled with fruits you had picked before he could even dismount his horse.

he huffed, feigning annoyance. “don’t get cocky, woman. i let you win.”

“of course you did,” you replied with a smirk, your eyes gleaming with playful defiance.

on other days, you hunted together. sukuna, ever the showman, would present his kills to you with exaggerated grandeur. “a token for my wife,” he’d declare, dropping a stag at your feet.

you’d roll your eyes, refusing to be outdone. “wait here,” you’d say before vanishing into the woods, returning hours later with a kill just as impressive, if not more so.

“not bad,” he’d admit, the amusement in his tone thinly veiling his pride in you.

“not bad?” you echoed, placing your hands on your hips. “i’ve bested the king of curses himself, and all you can say is not bad?”

“careful, wife,” he warned, though his grin betrayed no real malice. “keep this up, and i might actually start trying.”

nights were a different kind of ritual. after the day's activities, the two of you would collapse onto the bed, the exhaustion of the day settling into your bones. his arm would always find its way around you, pulling you close, as if ensuring you wouldn’t slip away in the night.

one evening, as you lay in his embrace, he traced the scars on your body with calloused fingers, his touch unusually gentle. “these,” he murmured, “are the marks of a warrior.”

you shivered at the sensation but didn’t pull away. “and yours?” you asked, brushing your lips over a jagged scar on his chest. “what do they mean?”

“they’re the marks of a man who’s lived too long,” he replied, his voice low.

you didn’t respond immediately, instead pressing your lips to each scar, as if trying to soothe the pain they carried. when you finally spoke, your voice was soft but firm. “then let me be the reason you stop living like that.”

his breath hitched, but he said nothing, instead pulling you closer.

sukuna laid beneath you, a sight so rare it could have brought the gods themselves to their knees. his broad chest rose and fell in a rhythm that betrayed his composure, his usually piercing gaze softened by an emotion he couldn’t name. vulnerability. no one had ever dared to see him like this, and yet, here you were — your lips trailing over every scar, each one kissed with a reverence that made his heart clench in ways foreign to him.

you felt his muscles tense under your touch, his hands resting on your hips like anchors, grounding himself as he surrendered to the moment. he wasn't used to this — not the softness, not the unguarded exposure. “woman,” he rasped, his voice gravelly, laced with something between a warning and a plea. “don’t you dare stop.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it,” you murmured against his skin, your lips brushing over a deep scar that cut across his side. your voice was steady, but your heart pounded. this was no king of curses before you, no tyrant capable of untold destruction. this was sukuna, your husband, your equal.

his grip on your hips tightened as your lips traveled lower, tracing the ridges of his abdomen. every kiss you placed felt like a silent vow, a promise to love him not despite his scars but because of them. they were proof of his survival, of everything he had endured, and you wanted to cherish each one.

“why?” he asked suddenly, his voice cracking slightly. his crimson eyes searched yours, vulnerable and uncertain. “why do you... look at me like this? like i’m...”

“like you’re human?” you finished for him, your lips curving into a small, gentle smile. “because you are. to me, you’re not a king or a curse. you’re mine, sukuna. and i’ll love every part of you, even the parts you hate.”

he exhaled sharply, a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “bold words,” he muttered, his gaze darting away as if embarrassed. “but i’m not complaining.”

“good,” you replied, leaning down to kiss another scar near his hip. “because i mean every word.”

his breath hitched as you continued your ministrations, your touch both worshipful and tantalizing. the coil of heat in his stomach grew, blending with the unfamiliar ache in his chest. it was maddening — how you could make him feel both powerful and utterly powerless at the same time.

“you’re a menace,” he grumbled, his gruff tone betraying the faintest hint of affection.

you laughed softly, your hands sliding up to cup his face. “and you’re mine to please tonight, husband. no arguments.”

his eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. “yours,” he murmured, the word heavy with meaning. and as you leaned down to kiss him, he let himself believe it. tonight, he was yours — in every sense of the word.

for all the confidence sukuna wielded on the battlefield — his presence commanding, his strikes calculated and devastating — soft intimacy found him at a loss. it was a battlefield of another kind, one he wasn’t sure how to navigate. his lips moved against yours with a clumsiness that was foreign to him, and though his brow furrowed in frustration, you didn’t pull away.

instead, you smiled softly against his lips, the curve of it so gentle it could’ve brought him to his knees if he hadn’t already been lying down. your hands squeezed his shoulders, your touch warm and grounding, a silent assurance that it was okay. okay to fumble, okay to feel, okay to let himself be vulnerable.

his hands roamed your back, hesitant but firm, the sharp edges of his claws barely grazing your skin as if he feared breaking you. “this... feels different,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, tinged with an uncertainty that felt out of place coming from a man like him.

you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers brushing against his jawline. “it’s not supposed to feel like a fight, sukuna,” you said softly, your voice carrying both patience and affection. “it’s okay to take your time. it’s just us.”

just us. the simplicity of those words hit him harder than any blade ever could. no title, no battlefield, no kingdom to rule — just the two of you, bare and unguarded in the quiet of the night.

he huffed softly, his lips quirking upward in a half-smile, half-grimace. “you’re annoyingly patient,” he said, though there was no bite to his words.

“someone has to be,” you replied, the teasing lilt in your voice making his chest ache in a way he didn’t know was possible.

the cicadas outside filled the silence, their rhythmic song blending with the occasional call of an owl. the night air was warm, but the heat between your two bodies was something else entirely. every brush of your skin against his, every whispered breath, felt amplified in the stillness.

when you leaned down again, your lips meeting his once more, he let himself relax into it. his hands found your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. and though he still fumbled — his movements rough around the edges, his breaths uneven — you didn’t falter.

instead, you guided him with your touch, your lips, your presence. it wasn’t rushed, nor was it perfect, but it didn’t need to be. for sukuna, this wasn’t about dominance or conquest. it was about trust, about letting himself be seen in a way he had never allowed anyone else to see him before.

sukuna wasn’t sure what surprised him more — the way his breath hitched when you lined him against yourself or the way his heart felt like it was being split open in the process. this wasn’t like the countless nights he’d spent with others, pursuing pleasure with little regard for who shared his bed. no, this was different. you were different.

as you sank down onto him, your movements slow and deliberate, his hands gripped your hips like a lifeline, his claws digging in just enough to leave faint impressions on your skin. his eyes were glued to you, watching the way your face shifted with every inch, the trust in your gaze piercing through every layer of armor he’d ever worn.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough and low, almost trembling. “you’re... gods, you’re perfect. too perfect for me.”

your hands rested on his chest for balance, your fingertips brushing against the hardened muscles there. his body tensed beneath you, but his gaze softened.

“look at you,” he rasped, his words a reverent whisper, like a prayer to a deity he didn’t know he worshiped. “taking me like you were made for this — made for me.”

your movements began to pick up pace, and sukuna’s head tilted back, exposing the column of his throat. a strangled groan escaped him, and his grip on your hips tightened.

“so fucking good,” he growled, his crimson eyes locking onto yours once more. “you’re everything. everything i didn’t even know i needed.”

his words spilled from his lips like a hymn, unfiltered and raw. “do you know what you’re doing to me? huh? riding me like this, making me feel like... like i'll fucking lose my mind.”

your lips parted to respond, but all that came out was a gasp as his hands guided you faster, his own hips rolling upward to meet yours. his praise didn’t stop, each word more desperate and sincere than the last.

“strong,” he murmured, his voice strained, “beautiful, powerful... fuck, you’re going to ruin me, aren’t you? my queen.”

that title sent a shiver down your spine, and sukuna smirked, though it quickly faltered into a low groan as you clenched around him.

“that’s it,” he encouraged, his tone almost begging now. “take what’s yours. claim it. claim me.”

the heat built between you, and sukuna felt the familiar coil of pleasure in his abdomen, but this time, it wasn’t just physical. it was something deeper, something terrifyingly profound.

when the two of you finally reached your peak, his voice broke into a string of curses and your name, uttered like it was the most sacred thing in the world. and then, in the blissful haze that followed, as you collapsed onto his chest, both of your breaths ragged and uneven, the words spilled from both of your lips in unison.

“i love you.”

sukuna stilled beneath you, his body frozen for a moment before his arms wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

“say it again,” he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper, his vulnerability cracking through the rough edges.

you smiled against his skin, your voice soft but sure. “i love you.”

his chest rumbled with a sound that was part laugh, part groan. “i’ll never get tired of hearing that,” he admitted, his lips pressing against your temple. the king of curses held you like a treasure he never thought he’d deserve, vowing silently to never let you go.

the silence between you was profound, the kind that spoke louder than any words could. your fingers moved with purpose, trailing the contours of sukuna’s face as though committing every ridge, every line, to memory. with your eyes closed, you traced the edges of his sharp jaw, the slope of his nose, the scarred texture of his markings.

“even if i couldn’t see you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, “i’d know you. i’d remember you... just like this.”

sukuna’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling beneath you, his body still intertwined with yours in every way. your words struck something deep within him, a part of himself he had buried under centuries of bloodlust and power.

“you’re a fool,” he murmured, though his voice lacked its usual bite. instead, it trembled, betraying a rawness he rarely let show. “thinking you could know me like that.”

your fingers stilled for a moment before resuming their path, brushing against the corners of his mouth, tracing the faintest curve of a smile that never fully formed.

“i already do,” you said softly, opening your eyes to meet his.

the sight that greeted you stopped your breath. his crimson eyes, always so fierce, were glistening, and a single tear had slipped down his cheek. it caught the dim light of the room, a testament to the vulnerability he so carefully guarded.

“ryo,” you murmured, the nickname escaping your lips without thought, carrying all the tenderness you felt for him.

his brows furrowed, as though he wanted to snap at you for daring to call him that, but the moment passed, and his features softened instead. his large hand came up to cover yours, pressing it firmly against his cheek as though grounding himself in your touch.

“don’t,” he said gruffly, though the break in his voice betrayed him. “don’t look at me like that.”

“like what?” you asked, your tone gentle, though your eyes held a mix of curiosity and concern.

“like i’m human,” he admitted, the words tumbling out like a confession. “like i... like i don’t deserve it.”

your heart ached at his admission, and you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. the warmth of his skin against yours was grounding, and you let your eyes flutter shut once more.

“you’re more human than anyone will ever know,” you murmured. “more human than you let yourself believe.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of your words settling over the both of you. sukuna’s grip on you tightened, and he shifted slightly, still buried inside you, as though seeking reassurance in the way your bodies connected.

“you make me weak,” he finally said, his tone low and rough, but there was no anger in it.

“no,” you corrected, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze again. “i make you strong, because you can finally feel.”

another tear slipped from his eye, and you caught it with your thumb, your touch light and reverent. and for the first time in centuries, the king of curses didn’t feel like a monster, but a man — flawed, vulnerable, and utterly, devastatingly human.

the realization hit sukuna like a blow, an overwhelming surge of emotions he couldn't entirely name, but he knew one thing with certainty — you were his. utterly and completely his. his breaths were heavy, his crimson eyes fixed on you, still straddling him, your bodies joined in a way that left no room for ambiguity. every scar on his body, every ounce of power he held, paled in comparison to the sheer force of this truth.

and yet, that vulnerability — the unfamiliar, maddening softness you evoked in him — made him pause, his grip on your hips slackening for just a moment. you tilted your head, brows furrowed as you asked gently, “ryo... what’s wrong? you look so... lost.”

your voice was soft, concerned, and it cut through the haze of his thoughts. but sukuna couldn’t hear the words, not really. the blood roared in his ears, not with the adrenaline of battle but with something far more primal, far more consuming.

he didn’t answer. instead, his hands gripped your waist with renewed fervor, flipping you onto your back in one fluid motion. you gasped, wide-eyed as he loomed over you, his gaze dark and intense.

“you’re mine,” he growled, his voice low and hoarse, more a declaration than a statement. “say it.”

your lips parted, the weight of his words sinking in as your chest rose and fell beneath him. “i... of course, i’m yours.”

it was all he needed to hear. his hips snapped forward, his movements rough yet oddly tender, like he was caught in a battle between possessing you completely and cherishing you wholly. you cried out, your hands flying to his shoulders, clutching him as if he were the only anchor in the storm he was unleashing within you.

“you’re mine,” he repeated, each thrust driving the point home, as if trying to fuse the words into your very being. “say it again. let me hear it.”

“i’m yours,” you whispered, then louder, more sure, “i’m yours, ryo. always.”

his face softened for the briefest moment, but the intensity in his movements never wavered. “you’ll bear my children, won’t you?” he demanded, his voice laced with a desperation he didn’t even try to hide. “tell me you’ll give me a family.”

your eyes locked onto his, your hands cupping his face despite the heat building between you. “yes, ryo. a family. yours. always yours.”

something in him snapped at your words, and his pace quickened, his movements growing more fervent, more insistent. his forehead pressed against yours, and his words became a litany of possession, devotion, and need.

“mine,” he murmured, his voice cracking with the weight of emotion. “all of you — mine. no one else will ever touch you. no one else will ever have you.”

“no one else,” you agreed breathlessly, your voice trembling as you tightened around him, your own body responding to his unrelenting claim.

and when he finally stilled, his body shuddering as he came inside you, the sheer force of it leaving him breathless, he whispered one final time, “mine.”

you pulled him down into an embrace, your hands stroking his back as he lay atop you, his breath warm against your skin.

“always yours, ryo,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear.

and in that moment, with your words and your touch grounding him, sukuna realized that there could never be another for him. you were his salvation, his obsession, his everything. and he would claim you, over and over again, for all eternity.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

love was a funny thing. it crept in quietly, weaving itself into the mundane and the extraordinary until it became inseparable from life itself. it wasn’t always grand declarations or sweeping gestures, though those had their place. sometimes, love was as simple as sukuna rising earlier than usual to make you breakfast, grumbling about how you should “stop being so bloody picky about the eggs,” while still serving them perfectly to your taste. or it was you spending hours grooming his prized horse, treating it with the same care and respect as if it were your own, much to sukuna’s begrudging admiration.

but this time, love took the form of a life yet to come. it began with the subtle signs — your monthly cycle vanishing, a tiredness that wasn’t quite normal, and a growing fullness in your being that was unmistakable. the realization hit you one morning, and though the weight of it could have been daunting, it only filled you with excitement. the thought of a child — a piece of you and sukuna — made your heart swell.

would it be a girl, blessed with your grace and wit, or a boy, inheriting his father’s untamed strength? perhaps both, their traits melding into something new and extraordinary. only time would tell, but the mere thought of it was enough to have you practically vibrating with anticipation.

that evening, sukuna arrived at the estate after a grueling day at court. his shoulders were tense, his usual commanding presence slightly dulled by exhaustion. you spotted him from the balcony, and by the time he stepped into the hall, you were already bounding toward him, your excitement practically bubbling over.

“what’s got you all worked up?” he teased, though the corners of his lips twitched in amusement at your giddiness.

“you’ll see,” you replied cryptically, taking his hand and pulling him toward your quarters.

he allowed himself to be led, curiosity piqued despite his fatigue. once inside, you turned to face him, your hands trembling slightly as they rested on his chest. his crimson eyes searched yours, his brows furrowed in confusion at your sudden quiet.

“ryo,” you began, your voice soft but steady, “i have something to tell you.”

his expression shifted, a flicker of worry crossing his features. “what is it? out with it already.”

you took a deep breath, your lips curving into a smile as you placed a hand over your abdomen. “i’m pregnant.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, the weight of them sinking in. sukuna’s eyes widened slightly, the faintest trace of disbelief flickering across his face before it was replaced with something softer — something rare.

“you’re... carrying my child?” he asked, his voice low and almost reverent.

you nodded, your smile widening. “yes. our child.”

for a moment, he was silent, his crimson gaze fixed on you as if trying to memorize every detail of your face in this moment. and then, to your surprise, a rare smile graced his lips.

“you,” he murmured, pulling you close, one large hand cradling the back of your head while the other rested protectively over your stomach. “you’ve given me something no victory ever could.”

you laughed softly, burying your face in his chest as his arms wrapped around you. “i thought you’d be more... theatrical about it,” you teased, your voice muffled against him.

he chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “don’t push your luck, woman. i’m still the king of curses.”

“the king of curses,” you echoed, looking up at him with a smirk, “and soon to be the father of a child who’ll probably have your temper.”

he scoffed but couldn’t hide the warmth in his gaze as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “then we’ll raise them to be stronger than either of us. someone the world will fear — and love.”

in that moment, with his hand resting over your womb and a future unfolding before you, neither of you could imagine life any other way. this was love, in its purest and most profound form, and sukuna, for all his power and pride, had never felt richer than he did now.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

motherhood wasn’t something you had ever envisioned for yourself. you had spent your life leading soliders, strategizing in courts, and ruling your estate with the iron will of a daimyo. being a wife had been an adjustment in itself, but now? now you were a mother too. or at least, soon to be.

your days of riding through the fields and sparring with the guards had been replaced by cautious walks and hushed admonishments from the trusted servants sukuna had personally assigned to you. they weren’t just women — they were warriors, chosen to protect you and ensure you didn’t overextend yourself. but they could do little against your stubbornness, often having to physically steer you back inside when you ventured too far or pushed yourself too hard.

you hated the idea of being confined, of being seen as fragile, but the truth was unavoidable. carrying the child of the king of curses was not just an honor; it was a burden that demanded more from you than any battle ever had.

even if you wouldn’t admit it, you felt it — the constant exhaustion, the strange pull in your body as it adapted to accommodate this new life. was this child mortal, like you? or would they inherit their father’s immense power, the blood of a sorcerer coursing through their veins?

you often pondered these questions during the quiet hours of the night, your hands resting protectively over your belly. whatever the answer, one thing was certain: you would love this child fiercely. and sukuna? he would love them too, even if he didn’t yet know how to express it. and if he faltered, you’d teach him, just as you’d taught him what it meant to love you.

sukuna, for his part, had insisted time and again that you should come to his main estate. “it’s closer to the court,” he argued one evening, his voice edged with frustration. “i can oversee your care personally.”

you shook your head, remaining firm. “ryo, this is unfamiliar territory for me. i need to be somewhere familiar while i navigate it.”

his crimson eyes narrowed, but there was a softness to his expression that belied his irritation. “stubborn woman,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words.

“you love me for it,” you countered, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

he grumbled something under his breath but didn’t press the matter further. instead, he reached out, his hand coming to rest over yours on your belly. his touch was uncharacteristically gentle, almost hesitant.

“just promise me,” he said quietly, “that you’ll call for me if you need anything. anything at all.”

you nodded, leaning into his touch. “i promise.”

and so, you stayed. familiarity surrounded you during this strange, transformative phase of your life. and while sukuna begrudgingly relented to your wishes, he visited often, ensuring he was never too far away. whether it was to bring you fruits from the orchards you loved or to simply sit by your side and watch as your child grew within you, he was there.

you had been a daimyo all your life, a wife for only a brief period, and now a mother. the transition wasn’t seamless, but it was yours. and as unfamiliar as it all was, with sukuna by your side — even if he complained every step of the way — you knew you could face whatever lay ahead.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the months passed slowly, each one bringing your child closer to the world and sukuna further away. the growing unrest among the sorcerer clans demanded his attention, their attempts to topple him becoming more brazen with each passing week. you knew he hated leaving you, especially during such a critical time in both your lives, but the king of curses was nothing if not steadfast in his duty.

“they think they can end me,” sukuna sneered one evening, pacing the room as you watched him from your seat. your belly, round with the promise of your child, rested beneath your hands. “let them come. i’ll end their miserable bloodlines myself.”

you rolled your eyes, though you didn’t miss the tension in his jaw or the way his hands flexed into fists. “and you’d drag our child into it too, wouldn’t you?”

his crimson gaze snapped to you, a dark grin curling at the corners of his mouth. “of course. our child will grow to be strong — strong enough to make those sorcerers regret ever crossing me.”

you sighed, shaking your head. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, you chose me,” he quipped, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness.

but the truth of his absences was harder to bear than either of you let on. while he battled threats to his reign, you were left behind, surrounded by handmaids and servants who were loyal and attentive but could never fill the void his presence left. they tried reasoning with him, explaining that you were in no condition to make the arduous journey to his main estate, and while sukuna begrudgingly accepted their logic, it didn’t stop him from huffing and stomping out of the room like a frustrated child.

“damn stubborn woman,” he muttered under his breath one such evening, though not so quietly that you couldn’t hear him.

“takes one to know one,” you shot back, leaning against the doorframe with a frown.

he glared at you, though the heat in his eyes softened as he took in your figure. his shoulders sagged slightly, the fight draining out of him as he crossed the room to stand before you.

“you’re impossible,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“and yet, you keep coming back,” you replied, resting a hand against his chest.

he didn’t answer, but the way his arms wrapped around you said more than words ever could.

late at night, when the estate was silent and the weight of his absences pressed heavily on both of you, sukuna would return to your side. his footsteps were quiet as he entered your chambers, careful not to disturb you as you slept. but you always woke when he did, your instincts sharper than ever as your body prepared for motherhood.

he’d settle beside you, pulling you close as he buried his face against your shoulder. “i hate leaving you,” he murmured, his voice raw with exhaustion and guilt.

“i know,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair.

“i’ll end this soon,” he promised, his grip on you tightening. “for you. for us.”

and though you knew it was a promise he couldn’t fully guarantee, the sincerity in his voice was enough. you turned to face him, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“just come back to me,” you said softly. “that’s all i ask.”

and he did, every time. no matter how far his battles took him or how heavy the weight of his crown became, sukuna always found his way back to you. because in the quiet of the night, with you in his arms and the promise of your child growing between you, he was reminded of the one thing that mattered more than power or victory — his family.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“uraume...her highness… attacked...”

in that instant, sukuna's blood ran ice-cold. no further explanation was needed. his chair scraped harshly against the floor as he rose to his full height, the air thick with his suffocating fury. without a word, he stormed out, crimson eyes alight with a rage that made his retainers scatter like frightened mice. his strides were long, purposeful, the bile in his throat a constant reminder of what could await him.

when he arrived at your estate, the scene before him made the world tilt on its axis.

it was a battlefield. bodies littered the grounds — servants, guards, handmaids — all sprawled lifeless, their blood staining the earth. the once-pristine estate was in ruins, its walls splintered, its lush gardens reduced to barren desolation. the trees that bore fruit so abundantly now stood stripped, their branches bare and broken. the air reeked of death and decay, a stench that clawed its way into sukuna’s nose as his eyes darted, searching.

and then he saw you.

his daimyo, his wife, huddled in the center of the carnage, a blood-soaked uraume shielding you with the last vestiges of their strength. their once-proud posture was hunched, their breaths shallow as they clutched their blade with trembling hands. and you — oh gods, you.

you were slumped against a crumbling wall, your once-bright eyes concealed beneath a bloodied cloth tied crudely over your face. your body trembled, your hands pressed protectively to your swollen stomach.

“they took her sight,” uraume rasped, their voice weak but still burning with loyalty. they staggered, barely able to remain upright as the sorcerer clans circled, jeering and taunting, their eyes glinting with malice.

sukuna’s vision went red.

“what have you done?!” he roared, his voice thunderous as it split the air.

“the king of curses finally graces us,” one of the sorcerers sneered, raising their weapon. “your wife was a liability —”

they didn’t finish the sentence. sukuna’s claws ripped through their body in one fluid motion, blood spraying as the lifeless corpse hit the ground.

“none of you are leaving here alive,” sukuna snarled, his voice a venomous promise.

in the span of moments, chaos erupted. sukuna moved with the precision and ferocity of a man possessed, tearing through the assailants with brutal efficiency. his cursed energy crackled like lightning, obliterating anything in its path.

“you dare touch what is mine?” he bellowed, his fists crushing bone, his claws slicing through flesh. “i will rip every last one of you apart.”

one by one, the sorcerers fell, their arrogance extinguished by his wrath. sukuna barely registered their screams, his focus razor-sharp as he ended the lives of those who dared harm you.

amidst the carnage, uraume collapsed, their body crumpling to the ground as their strength finally gave out.

“uraume!” you screamed, your voice raw with desperation as you reached out blindly.

the sound of your cry snapped sukuna out of his bloodlust. the last of the sorcerers fell at his feet, their lifeless body joining the rest. the battlefield went eerily silent, save for the sound of your labored breaths.

sukuna knelt before you, his knees pressed into the blood-soaked earth, hands trembling as they hovered over your body. he didn’t know where to touch, how to start — your swollen belly, your trembling fingers, your face, now marked with the absence of those eyes that once pierced through him. his mind raced, frantic with a thousand thoughts, but none of them could drown out the truth hammering in his chest: you were slipping away.

"don’t," his voice cracked, low and raw, a plea that wasn’t supposed to exist in the vocabulary of the king of curses. “don’t you dare leave me, woman.”

you smiled faintly, lips dry and cracked but still unmistakably yours. your hands — gods, your hands, still steady despite your broken body — reached up, fingers grazing his jaw.

“sukuna,” you murmured, his name falling from your lips like a benediction. “i knew you’d come.”

“of course i came!” he snarled, the sharpness of his tone masking the panic beneath. “what kind of fool do you take me for? you’re mine. mine!”

your fingers moved with purpose, tracing the sharp edges of his face, his cheekbones, his chin, the ridges of his scars. your touch was deliberate, trembling but sure, mapping him like a cartographer immortalizing a sacred land.

“i told you,” you whispered, voice faint but steady. “even without my eyes... i’d find you.”

his chest constricted painfully. he grabbed your wrist, not harshly but firmly, as if grounding himself to you. “then find me now! stay with me, damn you!” his voice rose, a command that bordered on desperation.

your breath hitched, your hand stilling against his face. “'kuna… i’m so tired.”

“no.” his voice wavered for the first time. his hands moved to cup your face, forcing you to look at him — or at least, where his face should’ve been. “no, you don’t get to be tired. you don’t get to leave me.” his thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away blood and dirt as though erasing the evidence of your suffering.

“look at me — listen to me!” his voice cracked again, his frustration bleeding through. “you are not allowed to die, you hear me? you are my wife, my daimyo, mother of my child. you don’t get to go!”

you smiled softly, that maddening, gentle smile of yours that he hated and loved in equal measure. “you’ll be fine without me,” you murmured, and his hands tightened against your face, claws digging slightly into your skin.

“don’t you dare say that,” he hissed, his voice trembling. “don’t you dare.”

your fingers resumed their exploration, your palm resting against his cheek now. “promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“shut up,” he spat, but there was no malice in it, only the raw edge of panic. “you can tell me yourself when you wake up tomorrow. we need to name the kid together — argue about it if we have to.”

a weak chuckle escaped you, and the sound shattered something in him. “so stubborn,” you murmured.

“you’re calling me stubborn?” he bit out, leaning closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “this from the woman who refused to come to the main estate even when —”

“shhhh,” you cut him off, your other hand weakly reaching up to rest against his chest. “kuna, let me… just let me…”

“don’t say goodbye,” he growled, his voice cracking as his claws dug into the ground beneath you, his cursed energy crackling wildly around him. “you don’t get to say goodbye.”

you didn’t listen. you never did.

“i love you,” you whispered, the words so soft they barely reached him, but he heard them all the same.

“don’t,” he choked, his voice barely above a whisper now.

“i love you,” you repeated, your hand falling limp against his chest.

and then you stilled.

“no,” sukuna breathed, his hands trembling as he shook you lightly. “no, no, no. you don’t get to — wake up!”

but you didn’t.

his hands curled into fists, claws tearing into the ground as his head fell forward, pressing against your cooling forehead.

“you promised me,” he rasped, his voice broken. “you said… you said you’d always find me.”

but the only sound that answered him was the faint rustle of the wind, carrying away the last remnants of your presence.

for the first time in his long, immortal life, ryomen sukuna felt what it truly meant to be alone. and for the first time, he wished he could be mortal — if only to follow you into the dark.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the battlefield was soaked in blood, a crimson sea stretching endlessly as the scent of death hung heavy in the air. sukuna stood at the center of it all, his figure drenched in gore, the sharp lines of his face painted with a grim expression. bodies lay scattered around him, lifeless and crumpled, their clans eradicated down to the last soul. his cursed energy crackled violently, an unrelenting storm that tore through everything in its wake.

he raised his hand, ready to summon another wave of destruction when something caught his eye — a pair of horses galloping in the far distance. they moved in tandem, their forms blurred by the heat rising from the blood-soaked ground. his breath hitched, his fingers twitching as he froze mid-motion.

a memory surged through him like a blade to his chest. faint laughter, the sound of hooves thundering against soft earth, and the warmth of a voice. your voice.

he lowered his hand slowly, the cursed energy dissipating with a low hum. his gaze fixed on the horses as they disappeared over the horizon, his chest tightening in a way he didn’t think was possible anymore.

“who… was it?” his voice cracked, the words barely audible, as if he feared shattering the fragile memory. his claws flexed, curling into fists at his sides. his heart, if it could still be called that, ached in a way that was both foreign and unbearable.

he stumbled back, for once his body feeling the weight of his own destruction. he wiped his face instinctively, only to realize his hands were trembling. “why… why does this memory hurt?” his voice was a growl now, anger and anguish intertwining.

he fell to his knees, staring at the ground beneath him. he could see the faintest outline of you — your smile, the way your hair caught the sun, the sound of your laughter as you challenged him to another race. the memory was fleeting, just like you, and it burned him from the inside out.

“who were you to me?” his words echoed into the emptiness, his cursed energy swirling weakly around him like a storm losing its strength.

the silence that followed mocked him. it wasn’t the triumphant roar of victory he was used to — it was hollow, deafening, and suffocating.

“damn it.” his claws tore into the ground, blood and dirt mixing under his nails. “why did you leave me? who gave you the right?”

but deep down, he knew it wasn’t your choice. it never was.

millennia of violence, rage, and destruction had never slowed him. yet now, as his mind clung desperately to the shadow of a memory, he found himself rooted in place. unmoving.

the horses were gone, swallowed by the horizon, but they left behind a gaping hole in his chest that no amount of slaughter could ever fill.

“who am i even fighting for anymore?” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

as he sat there amidst the carnage, the king of curses — feared by all, unmatched in power — felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in ages: emptiness. true, unrelenting emptiness.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sukuna's voice faltered as he finished recounting the story, his usual gruffness trembling under the weight of memories he thought he’d buried long ago. his hands, always so sure and unyielding, shook as they rested on the table. his crimson eyes, usually sharp and menacing, softened with unshed tears that clung stubbornly to the edge of his lashes.

and then there was you. sitting across from him, your hands clasped tightly together as if the very act of letting go would break the fragile connection between you. your own eyes glistened, the ache in your chest a weight you couldn’t name but could feel deeply in your soul.

you didn’t remember, not in the way he did. but your body and soul reacted, resonating with every word like an old song long forgotten. and as your tears spilled, so did his.

“ryo…” your voice was barely a whisper, unprompted but steady, and it shattered whatever composure sukuna had left.

his head fell forward, and for the first time in centuries, sukuna wept openly. no growls to mask his sobs, no threats to cloak his vulnerability. his shoulders shook, and his large hands gripped yours like they were the only thing tethering him to reality.

“you remember…” he choked out, his voice breaking, the tears streaming down his face unstoppable. “you — you remember ...”

you nodded, though you weren’t sure how much of it you truly did. it didn’t matter. your soul knew him. your heart knew him. and right now, that was enough.

your hands reached across the table to cup his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears that fell freely now. “we found each other,” you murmured, your own voice thick with emotion. “and isn’t that all that matters?”

he pulled you into his arms then, the table between you forgotten. you both sank to the floor, holding onto each other like lifelines, crying for what was lost and for what was found.

“i searched for you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice raw and uneven. “for so long. i didn’t even know what i was looking for, but it was you. it was always you.”

“and you found me,” you whispered back, your arms tightening around him. “we found each other.”

and so you stayed there, tangled together, tears mingling as centuries of pain and longing poured out between you. in that moment, nothing else mattered — not the past, not the future, not the world around you.

you had each other again.

and maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the room felt electric, every shared breath, every soft sigh charging the atmosphere between you and sukuna. the way he looked at you, reverent and awestruck, as if he couldn’t believe you were real, made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t thought possible. his hands roamed your body with a mix of desperation and tenderness, calloused palms smoothing over your skin like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

his lips trailed lower, brushing kisses along your neck, your collarbone, your stomach, until he reached the apex of your thighs. he paused, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, and the sound he let out — a soft, almost broken chuckle — made your heart skip a beat.

“let me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “please, let me. i’ve waited so long... i need this, need you .” his crimson eyes glistened as they met yours, raw and unguarded.

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words died in your throat when he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, his lips lingering as if they were trying to tell a story his words couldn’t convey. his hands gripped your hips gently, holding you in place as he moved closer to your pussy.

“you don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered, the words muffled against your skin. “a thousand years, and nothing — nothing —has ever come close to this. to you. ” 

your breath hitched as his tongue flicked over your sensitive clit, a soft gasp escaping your lips. you tried to pull him up, to bring him to you, but he shook his head, his grip on you tightening just slightly.

“no,” he said, his voice trembling. “not yet. please, just... let me have this. let me show you how much i’ve missed you.”

he sounded so broken, so utterly vulnerable, that you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him. you sank back into the mattress, your hands threading through his hair as he continued.

his tongue worked you expertly, alternating between firm strokes and teasing flicks that had your body arching off the bed. he let out noises — soft, desperate sounds that bordered on whimpers — as if your pleasure was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“you taste like heaven,” he murmured against you, his lips pressing kisses to your swollen clit before moving to your thigh. “i could spend eternity here, worshipping you like this. you’re perfect... so perfect.”

“'kuna,” you breathed, your voice shaking as you tugged at his hair. “please, come here. i need you.”

he hesitated, his lips brushing over your skin one last time before he looked up at you. his face was flushed, his crimson eyes dark with emotion, and he shook his head softly.

“not yet,” he begged, his voice cracking. “just a little longer. please, let me show you... let me have this moment.”

you nodded, your chest tightening at the sight of him so undone, so vulnerable. “okay,” you whispered. “okay, ryo. m'yours.”

his eyes fluttered closed, and he pressed one last, lingering kiss to your clit before moving up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. the love, the longing, the sheer need in that kiss spoke volumes, and as you tangled yourself around him, you knew that this moment was everything you both had been waiting for.

a thousand years may have kept you apart, but now, in this moment, you were whole again.

sukuna's lips were everywhere — your neck, your collarbone, the curve of your shoulder. each kiss carried a desperation that made your heart ache. he trembled against you, his hands roaming your body reverently as if afraid you might vanish beneath his touch.

“i can’t —” his voice broke, his breath warm against your skin. “i can’t believe i’m here, with you again. you don’t... you don’t know what this does to me.” his crimson eyes looked at you, raw and unguarded, as if you were the only thing tethering him to the world.

you cupped his face, your thumb brushing over the sharp line of his cheekbone. “i’m here,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady. “i’m not going anywhere, ryo.”

he let out a shaky breath and pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his fingers tangling with yours as he guided them above your head. he moved slowly, deliberately, as he prepared you, his fingers stretching you with care that seemed almost at odds with the reputation he carried.

“so perfect,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your ear. “you feel like you were made for me, like no time has passed at all. do you feel it, too? how we just... fit?”

you nodded, a soft moan escaping your lips as your body arched into his touch. he groaned at the sound, his forehead pressing against yours as he whispered, “you’re everything. my everything.”

when he finally aligned himself and pushed inside, his breath hitched, his entire body stilling as he buried himself to the hilt. he didn’t move. he couldn’t. he just held you impossibly close, his arms wrapping around you as if shielding you from the world.

his face pressed into the crook of your neck, and you felt his breath tremble against your skin. “you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice breaking with emotion. “you’re mine. you’ve always been mine.”

you tightened your hold on him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pressed a kiss to the side of his face. “i’m yours,” you whispered, your voice shaking with the weight of the moment. “always.”

he began to move, slowly at first, his hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that felt both achingly familiar and entirely new. each thrust was deliberate, as if he wanted to etch the memory of this moment into his very soul.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “so soft, so warm. i don’t deserve you, but gods, i’ll never let you go.”

his pace quickened slightly, the tension in his body coiling as he continued to whisper sweet nothings against your skin. “you feel... gods, you feel so good. i’ve missed this. i’ve missed you . tell me you’ll stay. tell me you’re mine.”

“i’m yours,” you repeated, your voice steady despite the tears that blurred your vision. “always yours, ryo.”

your words seemed to undo him, his movements becoming just a touch more desperate as he chased the feeling of completeness that only you could bring him. his lips found yours again, and the kiss was anything but rushed. it was tender, a thousand years of longing poured into one moment.

“i love you,” he whispered against your lips, his voice trembling. “don’t leave me again. please.”

you kissed him back, your hands cupping his face as you whispered, “never.” and in that moment, as he held you close and moved within you, the world faded away, leaving just the two of you and the love that had withstood the test of time.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the room was bathed in a soft amber glow from the bedside lamp, the warmth of the heater wrapping around the two of you like an embrace. sukuna lay on his side, facing you, his crimson eyes fixed on your face as if committing every detail to memory. your fingers threaded through his soft pink hair, the motion soothing as your legs tangled under the heavy blankets.

he huffed, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders. “humans and their strange contraptions,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely toward the heater in the corner of the room. “a box that makes fire but doesn’t burn anything? ridiculous.”

you chuckled, and his lips twitched into a small smile. “i can’t believe the great king of curses is humbled by a heater,” you teased, poking his chest. “next, you’ll be telling me you’re scared of microwaves.”

“what’s a microwave?” he asked, raising a brow.

you burst into laughter, clutching his shoulder as you leaned into him. the sound echoed in the quiet room, and he froze for a moment, drinking it in. “gods, i missed that,” he murmured, his voice soft as his hand came up to cup your cheek. “your laugh... i could hear it forever.”

you stopped giggling to look at him, your smile fading into something tender. “i’m here now,” you said quietly, your thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “and i’m not going anywhere, ryo.”

he pressed his forehead against yours, exhaling deeply as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly close. “you’d better not,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t think i could survive losing you again.”

the two of you lay like that for a while, the silence filled only by the hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the house settling. then, sukuna began to speak, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“did i ever tell you about the time we went horse riding, and you insisted on taking that wild stallion?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

you tilted your head, your fingers still combing through his hair. “no... but it sounds like something i’d do. what happened?”

“it threw you off within five minutes,” he said, his smile widening. “but you didn’t cry. no, you got up, brushed the dirt off your clothes, and glared at the horse like it had personally insulted you.”

you laughed softly. “sounds about right. did i get back on?”

he chuckled, his voice rumbling in his chest. “of course you did. you were too stubborn not to. you rode that damn horse until it obeyed you, and then you rode it every day for weeks just to prove a point.”

“his name was akagi,” you said suddenly, the name slipping out before you even realized it.

sukuna froze, his eyes widening as he looked at you. “you remember?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

you frowned, your hand pausing in his hair as you tried to piece together the memory. “i... i think so. he was a red horse, wasn’t he? with a white blaze down his face?”

a slow smile spread across his face, and for a moment, you thought you saw tears glistening in his eyes. “yes,” he said, his voice trembling. “yes, that’s him. you remember, my love. you remember.”

you nodded, tears welling up in your own eyes as the memory became clearer. “and you hated that horse,” you said, laughing through your tears. “you said he had too much attitude for his own good.”

“he did!” sukuna exclaimed, his grin breaking through the emotion. “but you loved him, so i tolerated him. for you.”

the two of you laughed together, the sound filled with relief and joy as more memories began to surface, each one like a piece of a puzzle clicking into place. sukuna held you tightly, his face buried in your neck as he whispered, “thank you. gods, thank you for coming back to me.”

you kissed the top of his head, your fingers threading through his hair once more. “we’ve always found each other, ryo. even after a thousand years. i’m yours, always.”

he looked up at you, his crimson eyes shining with unshed tears. “and i’m yours. forever.”

as the night stretched into the early hours of the morning, the two of you stayed like that, recounting stories, laughing, crying, and holding each other. for the first time in a millennium, everything felt right. you were home, and so was he.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sitting there, listening to sukuna recount the stories of your past life, painted a picture of someone you could barely recognize. a fierce, confident daimyo who commanded respect with every step, who ruled with fire in her veins and passion in her heart. the kind of person who spoke her truths, weaving her desires into words that resonated with everyone who heard them. but now? the years had dulled that fire, replaced it with something meek, something you didn’t recognize as you.

as he spoke about the woman you used to be, his pride was palpable, and it stirred something deep within you. he looked at you as though you were still that person, still that bold, unstoppable force. and as much as it warmed you, it also broke your heart. you had let yourself forget who you were, what you wanted, and most importantly, why you sang in the first place.

or rather, who you sang for.

he was right there, in front of you, the embodiment of every yearning, every note you ever wrote. your songs weren’t just about a nebulous longing — they were about him. and suddenly, the idea of continuing to sing songs crafted by someone else felt like the ultimate disrespect to both yourself and the man who loved you.

the next morning, after sharing breakfast with sukuna — who, despite being less than graceful in a modern kitchen, insisted on helping — you marched into your talent agency's office. the nerves had settled into your gut like a heavy stone, but you ignored them. you knew what you had to do.

the executives barely looked up when you entered, more concerned with their schedules and the demands of the music industry. but when you stood in the middle of the room, hands clenched at your sides, and declared, “i want to perform my own songs from now on,” they couldn’t ignore you.

their response was swift and cutting, full of reminders about contracts, marketability, and their so-called expertise. they warned you about repercussions, about how stepping out of line could end your career.

“then so be it,” you said, standing tall despite the tremor in your voice. “i’ve built enough of a name for myself that i don’t need this label to keep going. i’m not afraid of starting over.”

their protests followed you as you turned and walked out, but you didn’t look back. you felt his presence before you saw him — sukuna waiting just outside, leaning casually against the wall. his crimson eyes locked on yours, a flicker of pride shining in them.

“did you mean what you said in there?” he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he straightened up.

you nodded, slipping your hand into his. “every word.”

his grip tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “that’s my girl.”

together, you walked out of the building, the air around you feeling lighter than it had in years. the weight of others’ expectations, the chains of a system that had dictated your life — it all melted away with every step.

as you looked up at sukuna, his presence grounding you, you realized something: yearning wasn’t a weakness or a silly indulgence. it was a force that led you to beautiful things, to him, and to rediscovering yourself.

“what’s next?” he asked, his voice carrying an edge of excitement.

“i’ll write,” you said with certainty. “and i’ll sing. but this time, it’ll be my words, my heart, my truth.”

he grinned, that familiar, almost feral pride lighting up his face. “then let’s show the world what you’re made of.”

and for the first time in years, you felt like that fierce, confident daimyo again. the fire in your veins was back, and you had no intention of letting it go.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

three years had passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. your once-thriving singing career had quietly taken a backseat, but not without reason. life had shifted, blossomed in ways you and sukuna had long wished for, and the result was the sound of soft giggles and tiny footsteps filling your home. you were parents — parents to twin one-year-olds who were the perfect blend of you both, a miracle that neither of you could ever take for granted.

your days were now a whirlwind of business meetings and baby bottles. stepping away from the stage had allowed you to pivot into a new role: the owner of a successful label company. while you had initially mourned the end of your singing career, the new path felt right. nurturing young talent and giving others the platform you once had filled your heart with joy, just as much as rocking your twins to sleep did.

sukuna, of course, had his own rules when it came to parenting. he swore up and down that playing your music for the twins was the only surefire way to get them to calm down and sleep through the night. “it’s their mother’s voice,” he’d say, almost smugly, “of course it soothes them. they know quality when they hear it.”

you’d laugh, rolling your eyes at his tone but secretly loving how proud he sounded. and when the babies would finally drift off, their tiny hands clutching the edges of their blankets, sukuna would pull you close, kissing the top of your head like he always did.

one quiet evening, after the twins were finally tucked in, you sat behind sukuna on the couch, your fingers threading through his hair as he rested his head on your shoulder. your movements stilled when you noticed it — a strand of silver weaving through his dark hair.

“you’re getting grey hairs,” you murmured, letting out a soft chuckle as your hand continued to trace his scalp.

“hm?” he glanced up at you, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly in amusement. “does that bother you?”

“no,” you said quickly, a smile tugging at your lips. “it makes me happy.”

he raised a brow at that, clearly intrigued. “happy?”

“yeah,” you replied, your voice softening as you leaned forward to kiss his temple. “it means we’re growing old together. no more waiting, no more longing. just... this.”

for a moment, he was silent, his hand reaching up to cover yours where it rested on his shoulder. “you know,” he began, his voice unusually gentle, “i didn’t think this would ever be possible. i thought... after everything, after losing you once... that maybe this kind of peace wasn’t meant for me.”

you turned his face toward you, your fingers brushing against his jaw. “you deserve this. we deserve this.”

his gaze softened, the sharp edges of his usual demeanor melting away. “you’re too good to me,” he muttered, almost gruffly, before pressing a kiss to your palm.

“that’s because i love you,” you said simply, and his eyes darted away for a moment, the faintest hint of color dusting his cheeks.

“yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward in a rare, unguarded smile. “i love you too, you know.”

you laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair again. “i know.”

and as the two of you sat there, basking in the quiet warmth of your home, the soft hum of the heater in the background and the sound of your twins breathing steadily from their cribs, you felt it in your soul: you had waited lifetimes for this. and now that you had it, you weren’t letting go.

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[sl-vega]

[ 💌 ] - IT'S NOT BECAUSE'S HE'S FALLEN FOR YOU -multi!

It's not because he's fallen for you.

That's something he's found himself muttering under his breath more than he should. Reminding himself of a fact that should have remained as common sense.

He's gone 'soft' according to his friends. He refuses to even entertain such a bizarre notion. Soft? Over you no less? As if.

Those favors he does for you? Those are only because he wants to hold it over your head later. Taking notes for you because you missed class? He only does it because if you fall behind, you'll pathetically drag your ass to him for help.

Remembering all the things you express a vague interest in? It's only because he prides himself on being observant. It's not because he likes you, much less loves you.

You're an acquaintance-maybe a friend on certain days even. Not someone he has eyes for, and especially not someone who he's fallen head over heels in love with.

So what if he's constantly stealing glances at you? So what if he's gathering every small detail about you that he can get? So what if he almost enjoys piecing who you are- who you really are- bit by bit like a puzzle, a beautiful, magnificent puzzle.

It's your fault for being so damn enchanting.

It's was so unfair how your mere presence-your mere existence- made him feel this way. He didn't have any sort of feelings towards you so why was he like this? Always longing, always wanting.

All your habits, your thoughts, opinions, feelings. They meant nothing to him, yet they meant all the word to him at the same time. And he loathes it, the way his mind cycles over them, dissecting, interpreting, imagining.

Part of him wanted to hate you for the constant roller coaster that you subjected his emotional state to. The way a laugh, a teasing brush of contact, a brief glance even, could make or break his day was pathetic. He thought he was better than this. He knew he was better than this.

So why? Why was his mood always dictated by you? Like some cruel mistress that enjoyed toying with his heart.

He could almost feel you there in his thoughts, lingering, laughing softly at him as if you knew. And maybe you did. Maybe you always had. There was a sharp edge to that thought, the idea that you were aware of the effect you had on him and chose to wield it without even trying.

But then he thinks of your smile. Your sweet, genuine smile that perfectly reflects who you are in his eyes, and then he realizes that you aren't the type. You're too nice.

Too perfect.

And so he lies to himself. Pretends that you don't have his heart entangled in your hands every single second of every single day. Pretends that every moment he spends noticing you is just idle curiosity, it's passive. Like a sunset. Something that he can appreciate without making contact. Without getting too close.

Without risk of getting hurt.

But he has made contact, more times than he should have. Every interaction, every conversation, every stolen glance. He wants to hold your words in the palm of his hand, your laughter, your habits. He’s already far too close, and he hates how much he doesn’t want to back away.

It's all your fault for having him so enchanted with you.

And maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to think that’s a problem he doesn’t want to fix.

↳ scaramouche, wanderer, blade, itoshi rin, tsukishima kei, itoshi sae, kozume kenma, karasu tabito, shinsou hitoshi, + your faves! <3