#Kindness and Remorse Au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

teeskz · 9 months

Text

Deja Vu: “I want you so bad.”

» pairing: asshole! wooyoung x fem! reader

» summary: Getting paired with Wooyoung, notorious half-asser and asshole, on your midterm assignment must’ve been karma for something you’ve done in the past, cause god did you luck out bad. He’s constantly late to your meetings, hardly does any work, and on top of that, he teases you like no other. You can’t stand him. Until one day, a storm comes, brewing unfamiliar feelings amongst you two, and what you thought you knew had honestly just turned out to be deja vu.

» word count: ~ 9k (i actually have no idea, i just know it’s long)

» genre & warnings: non-idol au, asshole (most of the time) wooyoung, sub (sometimes) reader, dry humping, grinding, praises, unprotected sex (BAD, DON’T DO IT), rough sex, cream pie, ass & tit slapping, major teasing (both sexually and socially), orgasm denial x3, edging, fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, reader has a younger face but is of age, mentions of bff!seonghwa, reader is unintentionally cute, minor peer pressure (helps reader get out of her shell/pushy roommate), heavy make out session, whiny wooyoung, sensitive reader

» a/n: when i tell you i am in love with this kind of wooyoung

─ ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*.･｡ﾟ

Everyone warned you about him.

He’s a handful for sure.

You got him as your partner? Good fucking luck with that.

Be ready to do your half of the load, plus his.

You knew this would happen.

So how come you’re still surprised when at 6:45, Wooyoung strolls into the library, a drink in one hand and his laptop in the other, looking as if he’s ready to work. He should’ve been here 45 minutes ago.

You peer up from your own screen and can’t help but scowl at the boy. Wooyoung also notices you, and instead of feigning remorse a cheesy grin spreads across.

“Look at you being all studious.” He reaches the table you occupied and plops down next to you, parts of his drink splashing onto your bare arm, “How much have you gotten done?”

Adjusting your laptop screen, you hardly spare him a glance as you go back to typing, “Honestly, not that much. It’s hard coming up with research on my own.”

You hope the bitterness came through in your tone and judging by the way Wooyoung guffaws, you could tell it did. He just didn’t care.

“Y/N-ah, why’re you being so cold to me?” His voice is playful, lighthearted even, speaking as if the two of you were friends. Which you’re most certainly not.

Instead of replying, you let your fingers do the talking as they slap the keyboard with clicks, a reminder that you guys need to work and not converse. Does he think you actually want to spend your Friday working on some stupid project? One that’s worth a large chunk of your grade at that.

“I brought you something to drink.” He shoves the cup in your face and you can see the liquid start to turn more opaque as the ice melts. It’s also like 70% gone. Having enough, you harshly face him, the sudden movement causing him to buck backwards.

“Wooyoung, you need to get to work and stop playing around. We don’t have time for this, especially when you decided to show up almost an hour late.” You try to sound authoritative, but that in itself is a bit of a problem for you. Your voice has always been softer than most, so when you do try to take charge, you often get ‘awwws’ of how cute you sound. And you hated that.

It also doesn’t help that you have a rounder and softer looking face for someone your age. If you could count on your fingers the amount of times someone’s asked if you’re touring your college instead of attending it - with them thinking you’re a high schooler, well, you’d probably put around 3 fingers down. But the analogy still stands.

Wooyoung’s no different, him holding back a smile from the way your eyebrows would furrow and how your nose would scrunch whenever you exhibit anger. He found it endearing, actually.

“Okay...you’re clearly mad at me-”

“How can I not be?” You exclaim, “It’s been a week of us working on this project together, and somehow you manage to show up late every time, but it’s never been past 30 minutes. You’re even the one who told me to be here at 6!”

“I have a good reason for being late though.”

With that, you push your computer forwards and lean back in your chair arms crossed, entertaining whatever nonsense was about to spew out of his mouth, “Oh please, I’d love to hear this.”

He mocks your stance, “I was getting chased by a girl.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. You give him a deadpanned expression which causes him to whine.

“No seriously! I was.” In a flash, he pulls out his phone and puts it out for you to see a string of messages.

5:48 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- HYUNG!!!

- i need your help asap

5:49 PM

SEONGHWA:

- huh?

- what’d you do?

5:51 PM:

WOOYOUNG:

- the girl from last weekend’s pissed at me and is looking for me all over campus

- can i pls hide in your dorm?

5:51 PM:

SEONGHWA:

- tf did you do to piss her off?

5:52 PM:

WOOYOUNG:

- i’ll explain later just please let me hideout at your place

- i heard she has a knife

5:52 PM:

SEONGHWA:

- okay fine

5:53 PM:

WOOYOUNG:

- thank you!!

- i’m already outside your door

Admittedly, you were left dumbfounded. So maybe he did have a reason today, but that doesn’t excuse all of the other times. Wooyoung slips his phone back into his hoodie pocket while you go to ask the obvious question.

“What did you do to make this girl mad?”

He blows out a hard breath, as if even thinking about her is such a hassle, “We hooked up last week and I told her I didn’t wanna see her again. So, this is how she reacted.”

You purse your lips out, “Well, maybe she was hoping to gain something out of it. You know, there are nicer ways to phrase ‘I’m not ready for a relationship’ that don’t involve the girl getting hurt.”

“Why should I care about her feelings?” His words are icy, though it seems to be directed towards you, “I told her upfront I didn’t want anything more, it was only supposed to be sex. I asked her if she could handle that and she said yes. If she went ahead and caught something for me, that’s not my fucking problem.”

Once he was done, Wooyoung reels himself in. The realization that you weren’t, in fact, the psycho chick that had been chasing after him earlier dawns on him as you silently nod in agreement. If he had been clear on his intentions since the start, then there wasn’t really much you could say against him.

“I didn’t know that, sorry for jumping to conclusions.” You sound more sad then you meant to and reach out for your computer.

After a beat his sour look turns sweet again, another playful smile returning, “Oh Y/N-ah, don’t apologize for that. I’m sorry for getting worked up.”

“Your frustrations understandable, especially if you’d been real with her from the beginning. Frankly, she should’ve expected that.” Shrugging your shoulders, you go to work again, now noticing the time hit 7:18 PM. You had about 12 minutes to get Wooyoung to do something, but that probably won’t happen.

He cheers your name loudly, happy that you and him agree on a topic for once and the librarian on standby hisses at him to quiet down while throwing a nasty glare.

The two of you exchange glances before both quietly laughing, you going back to finishing one of your paragraphs for your thesis while he simply sat and watched.

«—————————»

The next time you were supposed to meet with Wooyoung, you receive a text from him hours before your designated time.

12:07 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- pls no library today

12:09 PM

YOU:

- what was wrong with it last time?

12:10 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- the old hag yelled at me

- i’m not dealing with that again

12:11 PM

YOU:

- well tbh you aren’t the quietest person to have around

12:11 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- sorry we all cant be mouses like you

12:13 PM

YOU:

- ignoring that

- how about the cafe nearby?

12:14 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- ugh the coffees gross

- and psycho chick works there

- hell. no.

12:15 PM

YOU:

- oh then def not there, where do you wanna meet then?

12:17 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- just come over to my apartment

- i would suggest your place but i don’t feel like going out

12:18 PM

YOU:

- what if i don’t feel like going out

12:18 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- who wears the pants in this friendship?

12:20 PM

YOU:

- there is no friendship

12:21 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- still don’t wanna admit we’re friends…..

- it’s bad enough you pretend to not know who i am around others

- makes me sad

12:24 PM

YOU:

- does it actually?

12:26 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- no 😛

- come over at 7

12:27 PM

YOU:

- alright fine

Even though you agreed to 7, you actually intended on getting there around 7:10. Hopefully the taste of his own karma would help him learn to respect others times and not waste a second of it.

Throughout the day, while doing your mundane tasks, the text messages between you and Wooyoung keep circling your thoughts. Mainly towards the end.

You and him haven’t established a clear relationship, so that’s why you denied his friendship claim. In all honesty, he just didn’t seem like one to you. But after what happened at the library, a part of you can possibly start to think differently.

Yet your mind races at the possibility you had actually hurt his feelings. It’s not a secret that you two are partners, so whenever you do deny his existence, many people laugh off your comment as a joke. Which for the most part it is. Had you been going too far with that?

Then again, this is Wooyoung you’re talking about. He hardly takes anything serious. Not even a project that’s worth more than half of his final grade. You’re probably just overthinking it, no need to stress out over this.

Telling yourself that, you continue to busy yourself with random tasks till around 6:30, which also happens to be the time your roommate arrives back from wherever she had left early this morning.

“Hey, where are you about to go?”

She asks as she notices you picking out a sweatshirt to wear, already having on light flared jeans. She comes up behind you and lands a loud smack on your ass and you fake cry. This is not a first time offense.

“Wooyoung wants to meet at his place for our project.” You look between two sweatshirts in your hands, a light grey and black.

Your roommate throws herself onto your bed since hers is barely visible due to the abundance of clothes occupying it. But then she pauses for a moment, rethinking over what you just said, “Wait, you’re going to his apartment?”

You nod absentmindedly, still deciding on which clothing option to wear.

“Is he trying to fuck you?”

Now that snaps you out and you dart your eyes to her, “What?! Absolutely not.”

She sits up now, legs crisscrossed as she becomes engross in the conversation, “Y/N, he 100% is! You’ve guys been studying at the same two places for the past week, now suddenly he wants to change locations? To a more secluded place? Sounds sketchy as hell.”

You’re quick to discard that, “It’s because he doesn’t wanna go out today. Plus, Wooyoung has his reasonings for not liking our usual spots.”

Her eyes do a dramatic roll, “Right, just as I’m sure he had his reasonings for being an hour late last Friday.”

You had been texting your roommate up until Wooyoung’s arrival, frustration running into the ground. But you also told her he had a legit excuse later on. So, she’s clearly not the biggest fan of him.

“Don’t say such things. And besides the seclusion will probably help us work better.” You finally choose to go with the black sweatshirt and put back the grey.

“Or it’ll help when your screaming his name and no one will be around to hear it.”

“Hey!”

She throws her hands up innocently, though nothing’s innocent about what’s coming out of her mouth, “I’m just saying! The possibility isn’t a no.”

“To me it is! Plus, he doesn’t even see me like that. Just as a friend…..sorta. Well, that’s not really the case for me. But it’s- you know what, never mind.” You finish putting on the sweatshirt and do your go-to style for your hair, something quick.

“Okay, well can you at least prepare better just in case you guys are gonna bone?”

You just shake your head in disbelief that this conversation is even happening, while she gets up and begins rummaging through the pile on her bed. When her hands come out again, they’re gripping a lacy tank top and matching underwear.

If you thought this couldn’t get any worse, it just has significantly.

“You’re not serious….” You shake your head once more, disbelief clouding your mind again.

“Y/N go put this on right now!” Before you had a chance to protest, she’s pushing you into your closet, throwing the clothes at you before locking the door and turning the lights on from outside.

“You’re crazy! I thought you don’t even like Wooyoung, why’re you so on board with this non-existent idea?!” You yell.

“Cause, even if he is an asshole, he’s still hot! And the perfect gateway into the hookup culture you’ve always wanted to be apart of since freshman year!”

You mentally curse yourself for wanting to have a ‘hoe phase’ and for sharing that with your roommate. That was forever ago anyways, surely she would’ve realized you grew up since then. Once you realize your roommate is dead set on not letting you out, you sigh annoyingly. She is insane.

But as you begin to caress the fabric, your mind begins to race. You had absolutely no intention of getting with Wooyoung, not now or ever. You don’t even consider him a friend! Yeah, he’s extremely attractive, and maybe even your type.

However, that doesn’t make up for how much he irks your soul, and you could swear up and down that you dislike him.

Maybe that’s why it would be perfect, the voice inside of you starts, no extra feelings attached, and no one has to get hurt like psycho crazy girl.

You bit your lip at the thought. Would he even hook up with someone like you? You don’t think you’re exactly his type.

………oh who’re you kidding, he’d probably mess with anything that has a hole.

“Don’t overthink it, if you feel the moment happening, jump on it. If not, then let it ago.” Your roommate adds more encouragement.

Suddenly switching your brain off, you strip off you clothes, removing the current underwear for the newer kind. You toss back on your other clothes before begging your roommate to let you out.

She opens the door but stops you in your tracks, “Now hold on, before you go let me see that you have it-”

You lift up your shift to reveal the tight material straining against your skin. You felt your breasts were gonna pop out at any second.

Your roommate gapes at you then goes to quickly put your shirt down, “Oh wow, I almost just said something I might’ve…...anyways you look fucking amazing.”

“Aww, thank you.” A tiny smile spreads across your face and your roommate resists the urge to pinch your cheeks.

“Okay, what time are you’re suppose to meet him?”

You glance over at your clock which reads 7:01 PM, “Hmmm, about right now.”

She tells you to hurry out of here but before you get the chance to, she walks over to the window and takes a peak, “Hey, have you checked the weather?”

“No, why?” It had been sunny all today there was really no point.

Your roommate holds back saying something, her gaze going over to your closet, “I think you should wear the grey sweatshirt.”

«———————————»

You were going to kill you roommate. The funeral’s been planned out, you already knew the casket color - burnt siena - and all you needed was the body. She is so dead.

You knock ferociously at Wooyoung’s door, at such a rate that someone could mistake you for one of his many, many girls. The door swings open, a freshly showered Wooyoung standing on the other side.

“Y/N-ah, why’re you so angry all the ti-” His eyes go wide at the sight of you. Your once neat hair all messy and soaked from the rain. The sweatshirt your roommate suggested had turned a much darker grey while your light pants were splattered in raindrops.

The worst part about it all, the rain started just as you were approaching his street, and it came down in waterfalls. You were already too far to turn around and grab an umbrella.

“I don’t. Wanna. Talk about it.” You roughly push past him and into his apartment, which you would normally stop to admire the niceness of it if you weren’t so upset. His living room and kitchen’s clean and modern, a TV playing some movie in the background.

“I feel like I could make a joke, but this is just too easy,” You toss a harsh glare over your shoulder at him as he closes and bolts his door, him shuddering at your expression, “Is this why you were late? I was counting every second.”

You highly doubt that’s true, “No, my roommate and I got to talking about…something.”

He tsks, running the white towel over his damp hair, “You know for every minute you were late, I say you deserve a spanking.”

If not for you roommate, that statement wouldn’t have illicit more than a scowl from you, maybe even an eye roll. But your mind trails off to you bent over his lap while he counts the number of times his palm hits your flesh.

And you feel your face immediately burn so you turn away, “If that’s the case, you’d probably wouldn’t be able to walk for like a week.”

With your back facing him, Wooyoung’s eyes linger down to your ass, and how full it looks in those pants. Dammit, he told himself he wouldn’t think of you in that way. And that spanking comment completely slipped out, but now he’s wishing he hadn’t said anything. His thoughts are truly something else.

“Where should we work?” You ask, desperately needing a change in subject.

He seems to be cleared from his own thoughts and he leads you to his living room where his laptop’s already set up with your guys’s work document. Hey, talk about efficient.

Wooyoung drops to the couch and you sling off your backpack, going to follow his lead when a foot comes in contact with your ass.

“Sorry, but I can’t have you sitting on the couch.” He slowly lowers his leg and you scoff lightly, your face doing the thing it does when you get angry. It kills him inside each time.

“Well, what am I supposed to do? I don’t have a spare change of clothes.”

Just as quickly as he sat down, Wooyoung’s back up again and tells you to follow him to his bedroom. Outside, you can hear the wind start to pick up, mixing with the treacherous rain.

“You can borrow a shirt from me, but I’m kinda low on bottoms.” He says as he yanks open a clearly broken drawer and begins looking for a suitable replacement.

He pulls out a ratty, white tee and tosses it on your face, you hearing him laugh at you as he makes his way out the door. You rip the shirt off with a huff, “Thank you for this.”

His eyes do a quick motion back to you before smiling his usual, playful grin, “That’s what friends are for.”

And he goes to exit again, leaving you alone to change. Trying your best to ignore the way your stomach buzzes at the remembrance of his smile, you pull off you own wet shirt and replace Wooyoung’s dry one, his scent engulfing you the minute it’s on you. You thought you could get drunk of this.

And as for pants, well, your jeans didn’t get as much damage as your top, so it should be fine. You work your way back to the living room, Wooyoung actually working diligently for the first time in ages.

“Whatcha doing?” You take the only open seat next to him on the cushion, but whatever change of heart you had towards him dissipates in a matter of seconds as he flips his screen to show you some clothing store he’d been browsing.

“Do you think this would look nice on me?”

You stare at him blankly before giving him a half-hearted answer. That seems to do the trick as he twists his computer and goes back to typing, most likely still not working. You open your own laptop and begin immediate research, the sounds of clicks filling the air as if you’re both competing for which one is the most significant.

An hour goes by, then two, then three, till next thing you know it’s 11 o’clock at night and the only thing left of your paper is the conclusion, which you tasked Wooyoung with since no one knows all that he’s really done.

“Holy shit! I can’t believe we’re almost finish with this.” He sighs happily into the couch while you shoot him a face. He instantly backtracks and rephrases his sentence into something more accurate, where he’d actually given you more credit.

“This feels like the longest paper I’ve ever written,” You huff as you layback alongside Wooyoung.

“Yeah, well,” He regards you and you meet his gaze, a tiny smile breaking out, “I know you did a great job. You’re an awesome researcher.”

The words could make you melt on sight, “Wooyoung, you’re too sweet.”

At the sight of your genuine smile, he felt as if his heart was going to leap out his chest. Damn you and you’re cuteness.

“Here I thought you couldn’t wait to rid me of your time.” You say as you snicker at your own joke. Definitely was the other way around.

“Well, don’t count on that. Trust me when I say, you’ll never get rid of me.” A devilish grin overtakes him and you roll your eyes, playfully this time. Maybe there is a part of you that’s starting to warm up to him.

“It’s probably time for me to go, it’s past 11.” When you go to stand, you hear Wooyoung whine behind you, begging you to stay longer. It’s just him being bored, don’t overthink it.

Right as you go to pick up your bag, a flash of lightning followed by loud thunder stop you in your step. With the time you spent with Wooyoung, you’d completely forgotten that a literal thunderstorm had been conjuring outside.

“Where’d you park?” He asks as he goes to stand next to you, trying to see out of the window of the blinds but even that had been barricaded by water.

“Oh, uhh, I actually didn’t drive. I walked here from my dorm.” You begin to think about how you’d get home. The bus normally comes around 12, so you could just wait under the bus stop to get out of his hair-

“You better not be considering leaving,” He chastises and when you make a guilty face he’s shocked, “Are you kidding me? I’m not letting you go out there.”

“I don’t wanna be in your way anymore, I’m sure you’re tired of me enough.” You rebut with wide eyes that make it hard for him to look away.

“Don’t make up lies, Y/N-ah, that’s what bad people do.”

Why does he do this to you? Treat you like you don’t know that there’s wrong in the world, like your sheltered. You stick your hip out and cross your arms, “Who’s to say I’m not bad.”

That sentence alone was enough to get him to laugh as if he’d been holding one in for a while, “Yeah, okay. I’ll go get my room ready for you.”

You trail him like a puppy as he goes down the hall and into his bedroom, “Hey, I didn’t agree.”

“And I don’t remember caring if you did.” He picks up the little trinkets off the floor before switching his pillows out with new ones.

You trot behind him, “Then if that’s the case, you take your bed. I can’t kick you of here.”

“You’re not kicking me out, I already gave the room to you.” He moves onto collecting a blanket from his closet then proceeds out into the living room again with, surprise surprise, you close by.

“Wooyoung this isn’t fair, I feel bad.”

He drops the cover then whips around to face you, his eyes burning deep into yours, “Where do you want me to sleep if you’re taking the bed then, huh?”

“Don’t overthink it, if you feel the moment happening, jump on it.”

Your roommate said this to you and boy if this doesn’t feel like a moment. Your eyes drop down slightly, then off to the side before landing back on Wooyoung, “You could….oh I don’t know, just stay in the room with me.”

He halts in place, trying to register if he just heard you correctly, “Stay with you……?”

You rapidly shake your head yes because you aren’t too confident your mouth could say much more. He pushes his tongue against his mouth, obviously lost in thought, and you briefly look at the movement. You must’ve turned into a huge pervert in the span of 4 hours because just the sight of that is enough to make your heart race.

“I normally don’t sleep with classmates, but I think I can make an acceptation for you.”

You flick him in the chest at his comment, him immediately laughing. And while part of you felt that was the proper response on your behalf, another hated how you knew he was joking. Like he could never even imagine you in that kind of way.

“Alright, let’s go back to the room then.”

This time you lead the way, with Wooyoung immediately stripping once he steps foot into the room. At the removal of his shirt, you spot a gold chain dangling from his neck, which you felt was a good fit for him. He goes all the way down to his boxers, a classic plaid mix with colors, and your eyes widen at how casual he’d just done it. Though, you don’t completely mind.

“Oh yeah, I get hot easily so sometimes I like to prepare. .” Without another second to waste, he hops into his side of the bed, “Don’t let me stop you though, okay Y/N-ah?”

You don’t even respond as hastily you turn around and fiddle with the button of your jeans. It’s now or never. You pull your pants down, around your ass and past your thighs till they pool around your ankle. You step out of them then bend down to retrieve, folding and placing them on a nearby chair.

“Did you wear that underwear just for me?” He’s teasing you, just like always, though this time you don’t have a comeback. You really had worn these just for him.

He picks up on your no-reply and could tell there’s a sense of something in the air that wasn’t there before.

When you turn back around, Wooyoung’s eyes are glued to you, more specifically towards your legs. You don’t get into bed immediately, instead watching him to see his reaction. Is this where everything goes downhill?

He rakes his eyes upwards till they land on your gaze and it appears he’s confirmed something in them, not playing around or joking. That you’re dead serious. Your heart rate accelerates and his lingering stare is starting to make you curdle.

After a beat his body weakens, “Come here.” His finally says. His voice is strained quietly, speaking as if you’d break if he were any louder. And so you do, leisurely, stalling.

You reach the side of the bed and he motions you to continue. You dip a knee into the mattress before placing your other, then again slowly make your way over to him.

Stopping right in front of his face, his arms reactively go up to grab at you but he stops himself midway. You can tell he’s asking for full permission, and attempting to calm your breathing you give a nod of approval.

His hands grip the back of your thigh, sinking into the skin, before making you straddle him. You sit perched up and toying with your fingers, then decidedly to rest them across his bare shoulders.

“You know I was just messing with you?” He starts, forcing you to give him your attention.

“You always do.” You’re tone sounds neutral thank goodness, but your goddamn pouty lips make you look like your frowning. Or to Wooyoung, kissable as fuck.

Chuckling gently, he bites his lip to stop him from smiling too much, “Yeah, that’s true. But this time it didn’t seem like just teasing to you.”

You feel his hands rub against your thighs, not working their way up, just caressing them while he keeps his eyes locked on you.

“I….” You already knew saying it aloud would sound weird, “I wasn’t sure where tonight was gonna take us.”

He continues to knead into your skin while you go to play with his chain, awaiting his response. You never would’ve imagined this is how the two of you would end up, but damnit if there’s not a part that just excites you a little about it all.

“Did you think we were….” He allows the words to hang in the air but you knew too well what he meant. So you shyly respond, affirming his suspicion.

Wooyoung sighs downward, looking like he just a lost a battle. “I told myself I wouldn’t do anything with you, scolded myself even.”

His words definitely are a shock to you, you stopping your fiddling on his chain to give him your full attention again, “What do you mean?”

“You’re just too cute, Y/N-ah, how could I not think about you in those kinds of ways,” his eyes are back on you, large and dark with plead, “But even when we got paired up together, I told myself to not do anything stupid. Because you don’t deserve that.”

The confession makes your head spin while watching him even more intensely.

“Are you sure this is something you want? If we do this, I promise you I’m not gentle and I don’t have any intention on being so.” He waits for your response but your mind is still murky from his previous statements. What does all of this mean? What was he trying to tell you?

You study him further. The softening of his eyes deepening the longer you two sit in silence. How his now dried hair hangs flowy on his forehead. His skin is clear with full lips. An absolutely gorgeous sight to take in. He’s absolutely gorgeous.

So much so in fact, that you don’t spare another second before leaning in to touch his lips with your own. And he’s quick to react, reciprocating the action in an instant.

It feels as if any previous doubts in your mind just fade out, leaving you with the blissful feeling of Wooyoung. He kisses you like he’s starved. Not sloppy, but uniformed. Almost like he’s been waiting for this and doesn’t want to mess up.

Your mouth moves perfectly with his, and you start tilting your head to either side. He copies your action and the two of you begin to get completely absorbed in the make out.

The hands on your legs work their way up, snaking behind you to cup your ass. He’s had literal dreams of this, and how your ass would feel in his hands. But those don’t compare, can’t compare, to how euphoric he feels in the moment.

When Wooyoung slips his tongue in your mouth, ever so slightly, the minor action causes you to whine a bit, his own groan buzzing into you. You feel some growth in his lap, soon a hardness pressing in your inner thigh.

Your breathing becomes irregular as random sounds emit from you, loving the way your core reacts accordingly to the pleasure. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on so quickly. Without even realizing you start to feel friction build from underneath you, now catching onto your hips rolling against his lap.

He starts to take charge though, grabbing and moving your ass to further grind into him. You break away first at the new sensation, huffing and hipping lightly while you struggle to keep your eyes open. Wooyoung takes notice in the way your expression looks so overwhelmed and just so damn cute.

“You like grinding on my cock?” The words tumble out as he flops his head against the headboard, “We haven’t even done anything and you look like you’re already gonna cum.”

His words are ammo to you, fueling you to gyrate faster while your hands go up above his head. He bites his lip, hard, to stop a loud groan from escaping

“You can’t cum just yet, Y/N-ah.” The sentence is more airy, like he’s struggling himself with the pleasure. You still continue though, too caught up in your satisfaction to notice him hoist an arm around your back and flip you face up onto the bed.

He lands between you, throwing in more clothed thrusts while holding in a smile at your reaction, a mix between lust and anger.

“What-” He bucks particularly hard into it your core that you thought you were going to orgasm right there, “Nrgh! What was that for?”

Wooyoung dips his head down to your cheeks, kissing them tenderly before scooting towards your ear. He eases up on the thrusts too until the two of you work at an equal, tiny pace, “I couldn’t have you cumming, not when I finally get to enjoy this.”

He wiggles down a bit till he reaches your stomach, taking the fabric of your shirt between his fingers and lifting it up towards your mouth. You gladly accept it, him shoving the tee until your mouth was full.

When he glances back down, your top now fully in view, his eyes almost bulge out of his head.

"Holy..." He drags his fingers up the curve of your waist to your outer breasts, which are practically spilling out of the tight shirt, "You wore this for me?"

He smirks up at you and your eyebrows furrow at the bad joke. He's lucky your mouth's being occupied at the moment.

Wooyoung goes back to admiring you, craning his neck up to place open kisses on the soft flesh that pokes out before working his way to in between your cleavage.

Your heavy breathing, though muffled, is still audible enough for him to hear, lifting his head up quickly to speak to you, "I think those are gonna be my favorite noises."

You dismiss him, grabbing the back of his head to push him back into you. Wooyoung laughs at your neediness and eagerly goes into your tits again.

The feeling starts to build again in your heat, with you gradually increasing your movements against him. He responds to you by rolling himself further between your legs in a rhythm, the sloppy sounds of him kissing and sucking at you still filling your ears.

You've always been a quick pleaser, not typically lasting more than 15 minutes when pleasuring yourself.

If Wooyoung hadn't changed positions earlier, you most likely would've finished like that, which for the record you were perfectly contempt with.

But now everything feels like so much. So much happening at once that the desperation to spill over comes clawing out.

Wooyoung doesn't let that happen though, letting up once he felt you grinding even harder into him. A single string of spit still connecting to your breasts hangs past his mouth, another all-knowing grin plastered on.

"Someone's a little quick on the trigger." Throwing caution to the wind, he sticks a hand against the middle of your underwear, making you squirm on the spot, "Oh, I can see why. You're fucking soaked."

You mumble out a reply but he pretends he doesn't understand, which to be fair he probably doesn't.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that. Say it again for me." This time he pulls your shirt out, your own little spit string dropping down to your chin.

You gasp harshly, "You're so mean, Wooyoung."

He peers back to your face, staring intently at you when his fingers below push rather deep into your underwear, the action causing you to hike up and grimace, “Hmmm….yeah, I guess I can be.”

In no time his mouth is back between your cleavage as his fingers work your clothed core. You think your hearts gonna explode from overstimulation. You wiggle yourself against his hand, twitching when he starts to move your fabric to the side.

The bare touch he has brings such a feeling you’ve never experienced, making you shiver. The way he would cup your pussy momentarily before releasing, rubbing at your clit again then repeating it all once more. Honestly you thought you were game over.

Till Wooyoung takes his hand away from you fully and sits up. Your face drops at the absence of his touch.

“Hey, what’d I say?” He fakes an angry expression before cracking out into a playful one, “You can’t cum just yet, I haven’t even fucked you.”

He notices the greediness in your eyes, the way you’ve only been concerned on getting yourself off and not him. And he’s not even mad at you for it, finding it rather enticing the desperation you have. Actually, it’s turning him on so fucking much.

“Look at this.”

His voice is authoritative, and when you don’t look exactly where he wants you to, he roughly grabs your hand to palm him through his boxers, “I’m leaking right now and I haven’t even taken my cock out.”

The wetness permeates to your fingertips and you quiver, a sudden sensation taking over. Like you want him inside of you right now.

“I’m gonna pound you until you’re shaking from me,” He wraps his arms underneath you to hoist you up, twisting you around till you’re on all 4’s, “So no orgasming. At least until I say so.”

You go to speak when a hand pushes your head down into a pillow, automatically arching your back with your ass poking out. Your underwear spreads across your cheeks which causes Wooyoung to sigh happily, “I could look at your sexy ass forever.”

“Wooyoung-ah,” You heave, already waiting too long for him, “Hurry up.”

Your voice again was never rude, but it did come off as whiny. He goes to make your wish come true but before that, he lands a harsh smack against your plush skin.

“Fuck, it even jiggles. Y/N-ah, you’re gonna make me cum on myself.” His words make your eyes flutter, swearing that if he kept talking you’d be done for, again.

“Need you in me…..please.” Your last attempt at pleading does the trick for you, with him bringing your underwear down to your knees. He positions himself behind you as he goes to pull down his boxer shorts.

“No more stalling starting right now.” A stroke of dick sends tingles down his spin, then, of course, he toys with your entrance.

Sliding just barely his damp head into you before swiftly pulling it out, rubbing his full length on your pussy lips. He taunts you in a manner that you couldn’t even verbally protest cause it still felt so good.

“I….” Your voice trails off from his continued teasing but that does stop him from being curious.

“Mmm, what’s that?” There’s no edge to his tone this time. If anything, he presents himself softer and more genuine.

You choke on your breath, “I’ve never wanted someone so bad before.” Wooyoung hears the possessiveness in your voice and just like that, his facade comes crumbling down, reaching his breaking point.

If only you’d understand how true those words are for himself.

“Okay,” he pause himself to readjust, “I’m actually gonna fuck you into the sheets now.”

Before he does, his reaches a hand to grab your hair, twisting it to pull you back, “Just let me know when to stop.”

You nod as your consent, which then Wooyoung throws your head back down and brings your waist further up.

He gives no warning when he thrusts himself fully deep into your core, the motion causing your head to almost drive into the headboard.

“Oh my….you’re so damn tight.” His own eyes practically roll back at the feeling of your walls around him, and he almost doesn’t wanna move.

But then you wiggle your hips in need of some friction, and soon he begins to pound into you, just like he said he would.

It starts off slow, him letting the action run through you as your slickness spreads across his cock. You even have the strength to rock with him though you weren’t sure how much longer that would last.

He’s holding onto your waist for support, but then switches one of them to the headboard above, sort of mimicking your earlier position.

His head becomes dizzy with your soft, tiny groans and the slapping sound of his skin against yours as a background.

“S-Shit, think you’re gonna make me…..” Wooyoung becomes too enveloped in the sensation, the intensity from you both, to even finish the sentence.

He gets faster while you grow more limp. Your own pleasure starts to consume you and soon you don’t have the willpower to move. He looks down briefly to your ass, taking the hand from your waist to slap your cheeks.

“Ah!” You gulp in for air, “shit….”

“Oh you like that?” Another one lands on you, though this had some sting behind it. But you love it, “Told you, you needa spankin.”

He doesn’t stop there. Grasping at your tits in front, he forcefully tugs your tank top downwards till they fall out, “Need both.”

Then, he unleashes a smack onto your breasts, this round making you cry aloud, “Wooyoung!”

“You’re so cute, Y/N-ah.” He roughly grabs your mounds of flesh and shakes them, “I love your body so damn much, could fuck you all the time.”

He goes back to fucking you, but your mind wanders. You want to ask if he truly means that, but when a particularly hard thrusts sends you soaring out of your stars, you’re quick to forget.

There’s a build up approaching and your cunt feels extra sensitive from the previous activities. You’ve surprised yourself by lasting this long, but you know your end is near.

“Woo, can I-” The words get caught in your throat and instead you croak them out.

He knows exactly what you want though, and how to give it to you. He folds himself over to completely engulf you, him wrapping both arms around your stomach. He’s still pumping in and out yet his pace has increased significantly, “Yeah, yeah you can cum now. You’ve been such a good girl.”

With his permission you let go, allowing yourself to succumb to the intoxicating heat spreading all around. Wooyoung’s breathing is present behind you as he struggles to find his own regular pattern.

He’s whining, though quietly, into your shoulder, muttering small praises, “Fuck, you’re so good. So damn good. You’ll never let anyone else have you, right?”

He drives his hips continuously as you utter incoherent nonsense, “Promise me no one else will ever see you like this. Can you do that for me?”

You can hardly muster a reply but after a few more gasps it come out, “I promise.”

Your eyes begin to flutter while Wooyoung peppers small kisses down your spine, “You’re mine now.”

And just like that, your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, just a massive explosion causing you to shake. The feeling of your walls contracting around his cock causes Wooyoung to finish too, the two of you cumming in sync. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm, and you whimper loudly.

You’ve never had one hit you so intense before, and even Wooyoung’s load is more than usual as he fills you up, your cunt milking his dick in pulses.

You try to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible, taking a mental note of the whole night until slowly you come down from your high.

Wooyoung finishes as well, his hips growing slow until he finally stops. Instead of removing himself immediately however, he takes in the feeling of him still buried in you, loving how warm you feel. You both breathe heavy and you feel him clench his arms around you.

After regaining your composure, you flop down onto his bed, Wooyoung following close behind you. He lands on top of you and sighs, “You’re probably the best fuck I’ve ever had.”

You giggle lightly, “Is that so?”

“Oh yeah,” He plants another kiss this time on your inner neck, “And I’m definitely your last.”

At that, you crane your neck to him, leisurely turning over as he scoots back slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His hair is now slightly wet from sweat, showing just how much effort he put in, “Cause, you’re never getting cock from anyone else again. If you want it, you have me.”

The smile that spreads afterwards is shit-eating and mischievous. You’re amused by this but don’t oppose it, and Wooyoung senses your acceptance at his declaration.

He drops down to your lips, kissing you in such a passion that felt had a little more to it than he’s willing to show and maybe you don’t want him to. At least, not right now.

Just as you start to get into it, he breaks away, “Wait, I remembered something.”

“What is it?” Your cock your head to the side a bit in confusion, an act that briefly makes him put his guard down. But he quickly regains it, and scoots down towards the end of the bed.

He takes ahold of your back thighs and pushes them towards you, your legs reactively parting slightly. He then moves your knees apart and creates an open view for himself to your pussy.

There's an audible groan, "Oh fuck, I need to burn this image in my head.”

His cum leaking out of you combined with your puffy cunt practically makes him hard again. He continues praising you and gloats about how fuckable your cunt is.

Your face burns as you can’t help but cower from the attention, but apart of you knows you’ll be getting more of this in the future.

Better start getting used to it now.

- Bonus -

When you wake up again, it’s to your phone violently ringing off in the distance. You feel a heavy arm slung over you and it takes you a minute to realize Wooyoung is nestling between your neck with a leg on top of yours, out like a light.

Still groggy, you sit up, some surprise coursing through you as you notice your lack of clothing. But that didn’t matter as of right now. All you want is to find this phone and shut it the hell up.

You aimlessly search through the comforter, then bending over to reach the ground when you see a light being covered by your jeans pocket.

Now you have to get up and actually go retrieve the device, something you do then your back onto the bed.

The photo ID is of you and your roommate 2 years ago when you guys first met in high school. A memory you’d rather forget from when she took you fishing for the first time with her family. Your eyes also dart up to the time which reads 2:43 AM.

Oh gosh.

You press the answer button, “Hello-”

“What the hell is wrong with you?! I’ve been texting and calling you for the past 2 hours and I was getting worried!”

You wince at her shouting, holding the phone a way from your ear slightly, “Sorry, sorry. The storm got really bad so Wooyoung offered to let me sleep here. I should’ve told you that-”

“Damn straight you should’ve! Had me thinking the fucker kidnapped you or something, you’re so reckless.”

Your eyebrows furrow, minor irritation pricking at you for her earlier stunt, “Okay, I get where you’re coming from, but you’re the one who knew it was gonna rain. Why would you let me wear grey-!”

“Oh come on, you are not bringing that up right no-”

Your phone gets plucked out of your grasp and soon you hear the end-call noise. You look over at Wooyoung who’s resting up on his forearms, your phone in a hand with your call gone from the screen.

“She’s really loud, woke me up from our nap time.” He mutters then goes searching through your phone before he appears to type out something.

“Wooyoung!” Your shock subsides as the realization of what he’d just done dawns on you, “You can’t hang up on her, she’s my roommate.”

He just shrugs his shoulders, your scolding rolling off of him, “I just did though, plus shouldn’t she be asleep right now? It’s too late for you girls to be up.”

You scowl at him when he glances up at you, shooting you a tiny smile. Then he hands out your phone and you take it skeptically, “What’d you do?”

“Relax, I just told your roommate you’d talk to her in the morning. She needs to take a chill pill, texting you 47 times, holy shit.”

You graze through the messages and see all of the texts she’d sent asking about your whereabouts and then you see the one Wooyoung sent merely seconds ago.

“Hey, come back to bed, you need sleep.” He attempts to pull you back to him and you allow him to, falling down into his chest.

And that’s how you spend the rest of the night, safe in Wooyoung’s arms.

#ateez #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez seonghwa #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #jung wooyoung #k pop smut #wooyoung #Wooyoung x reader smut #wooyoung smut #ateez oneshot #teeskz #ateez imagines #wooyoung x reader smut #kpop imagines

3K notes · View notes

certifiedcodbabygirl · 1 month

Note

clearly the only solution to the penpal au is you’re supposed to write to ghost but the entire task force hijacks the letters every once in a while. /hj /lh

Price also ends up doing that too once he realizes why the entire team becomes obsessed with writing letters

DUDE YES *smooches your brain*

Simon starts writing to you through a military penpal program Price had all of them in. Ofc, like the rat bastard he is, he drags his fuckin feet on it. Eventually, you manage to get him a little more willing to write back and it seems like he even looks forward to it. He's the first one to grab his letter from the container when they come. He claims it's to get it over with, but the other guys know better.

You'd think the other guys would be the ones more open to their penpals but NO. They managed to be paired with some of, who they call, the most boring people they could have met. Hell, even Price began to drag his feet after the 2nd letter back.

Simon seems to be the only one actually enjoying his exchanges, even if he tries to hide it. Johnny's the first one to get curious, wanting to know what the LT's got that's good enough to loosen the stick in his ass.

While Simon's out of the room, Johnny reads through the first couple letters Simon received. Your sweet words, stupid jokes, and genuine care are a stark contrast from the uninterested and short words he received from his penpal.

He stops writing to his penpal, not that they noticed/ cared, and grew the balls to write you one. He claimed his penpal dropped out, so they had to make do, not that you minded. And God, when you started to write back, he swore it was like he was a schoolboy all over again. Getting excited for the letters, heart racing as he reads your carefully written words, counting down the days till he gets another.

He gets ballsy one night and opens up to Gaz about what he did, not showing a single crumb of remorse. Tells him all about how sweet you are, how you show genuine care for his safety, even giving the idea of sending a care package. He could see that same thought process going through Kyle's mind, contemplating switching to you. He gave Kyle your address and told him to just come up with an excuse.

Now Kyle's a little smarter than Johnny, knowing that if Ghost finds out he's probably fucked. However, at the end of the day, he's a lonely man. He had this sweet thing like you just within reach and he's supposed to not take it? Yeah right.

He gave the same excuse Johnny did, claiming his penpal's schedule became too busy to write back, and just like that you had 3 soldiers wrapped around your finger. He sweet talked you, gave little puns here and there, really became like a lap cat. He wasn't as forward as Johnny and not as refrained as Simon. He gave you music recommendations when you say you like a certain genre, he gave you book recommendations, even sent you photos of him in front of a helicopter (you begged for it when he told you about him falling out).

Now, Simon isn't stupid. He isn't clueless. He noticed that the first couple letters went missing. Then he noticed Johnny being more eager to write. Same with Kyle. He noticed how they seemed to pull away from him when the topic was brought up. He's not a stupid man.

He might even be considered generous (don't say it to his face though, he'll take it as sarcasm). He knows the boys are talking to his penpal, but he'll be kind enough to share. His sweet lil thing. If you can keep up, that is. Your letters seem to boost morale and bring a small light that wasn't there before. They're all hard-working men, risking their lives to keep the world clean. They deserve this, don't they?

Even Price finds himself wanting in on it. If you can manage to bring Simon happiness (again, he won't admit it) and keep the other boys happy, surely you can take on one more. He sends you a letter, as their captain, and thanks you for what you've done. You're such a kind soul for giving these men some hope in their lives (laying it on thick, gotta keep em interested) and how much you've helped their performances.

They all write to you, their unofficial 141 penpal, and it works surprisingly well. The lines begin to blur a bit on being platonic and something else, but it'll be sorted out eventually. For now you're just theirs (Simon came around to it once he realized you had plenty of love to go around). You're the 141's, even if you don't fully understand what that means.

The first picture they send to you, around Christmas^ (I can't find the artist, please tag them if you know who it is)

521 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 2 months

Text

The Taste of Desire (AU)

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

[ warnings: sex with soft domination, fingering, smut, angst, sexual tension, remorse, doubts related to sex work ]

[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients − however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. One of his clients surprises him with her behaviour, making him experience something he has never felt before, with his own actions and emotions slipping out of his control. Sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]

This oneshot is an alternative universe for my series The Taste of Shame in which Aemond meets the main character as his client. It shows how their lives would have turned out and what their first time would have been like if Aemond had done it for money. Created to celebrate my anniversary on 22 March.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other series: Masterlist

_____

He was never picky when it came to his female clients. They had to meet basic standards like hygiene, no venereal diseases and they couldn't go beyond a certain time, but once they signed a confidentiality clause, what he was going to do with them was no longer important to him.

He kept repeating to himself that he was there for them, not them for him, so he focused on giving them what they wanted in a way that didn't disturb his comfort zone.

He did not allow them to kiss or touch him with their hands − in fact, he preferred that any involvement they had in what was happening was minimal. What he found most pleasing in the whole act was his violence towards them, and the more they consented to, the more he was satisfied.

Their pleas and cries of pain combined with some subconscious pleasure that such sadomasochism gave them made him struggle to hold back the mocking smile that pressed against his lips.

They wanted to be treated like worthless objects, and that's what he was giving them, because that's exactly how he thought of them.

He didn't try to delve into considering what he thought of himself, because he decided that would end up with a visit to a psychiatrist. He was studying quantum physics, lived far away from his family and needed a steady, high source of income − since silly girls could make money from sex cams, he could make money that way, at least until he had no other prospects.

The only way to contact him was through an online form on his website, where they would write why they wanted to meet, indicate what suited them or not, and if he felt he could meet their whims, he would arrange to meet them to discuss the details and sign the documents.

Scrolling through dozens of similar messages about tying, gagging, beating and humiliation he stopped on one where only a few things were marked. He thought surprised that he wouldn't even link them to aggressive domination per se, and certainly not the kind he usually used.

Good morning. I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'd like to try, but I'm also a bit embarrassed about it. I don't know if this can be subsumed under your interests − I'm completely inexperienced, so maybe that's why I'm looking for a professional who knows what he's doing and would be able to show me what I actually need and want. I apologise for the rather chaotic explanation and send my regards. Selected practices: spanking, verbal domination, fingering

He blinked and scratched his chin, both intrigued and uncertain at the same time − he glanced quickly at her age and saw that she was younger than him. He bit his lower lip feeling that something in the idea that she was still inexperienced and only willing to explore her needs attracted him, the thought that this would be some sort of challenge for him.

He decided that why not.

She was an adult.

He looked forward to meeting her with the utmost curiosity. Her requirements were basic enough that he didn't need to prepare any extra kinks, and since she didn't want sex with penetration, it also gave him a greater sense of confidence and peace of mind − he knew he wouldn't have to chase his orgasm, imagining some woman from porn, and would be able to concentrate only on what he was doing to her.

When he heard a quiet knock on the door of the flat he rented only to meet his female clients, he got up immediately from behind his desk and opened it for her, swallowing hard as his gaze involuntarily swept over her figure and stopped on her face.

God.

This was not what he had expected.

She looked even younger than she had written; her eyes were big and bright, looking at him with fear and dread, though usually the women who came to him, learned by experience, kept their gaze meekly on the floor, waiting for him to command them to look at himself.

She was dressed in a plain white Tshirt and high-waisted jeans, a fabric coloured backpack on her back, her hair loose, shiny, dark, slightly wavy − he could smell the fruity scent of her perfume or shower gel.

He grunted quietly, trying to keep a stony face, feeling that involuntarily his gaze expressed shock. He took a few steps back and invited her in − she stepped inside uncertainly, turning away quickly as he closed the door behind her.

"Come in. Do not be afraid." He said lowly, pointing to his desk which stood in the deeper part of the flat − she walked in that direction, looking in horror at the bed standing on the other side of the room.

He heard her swallow hard, tense and red, pulling her backpack off her back − she placed it in her lap immediately after she sat down in the chair opposite him, as if trying to ward off and protect herself from him in this way.

He took his seat on the other side and tapped his index finger on the top of his wooden oak desk, thinking that he had never had a client like her before.

She was completely distracted, her gaze sweeping across the room as if she were a curious child, her fingers tightening on the material of her rucksack.

"As I mentioned, first the contract and confidentiality clause." He said calmly, handing her copies of the contract and clause he had sent her earlier.

She took them from him and looked into his eyes again, making him swallow hard; it wasn't a defiant look and it wasn't meant to seduce him. It seemed to him just the opposite − she wanted to show him that some part of her was genuinely afraid of him.

She nodded, her hands trembling all over as she took the sheets of paper in her hands − she looked around quickly and clumsily grabbed a pen.

He wondered, seeing what was happening to her, if what she wanted was really good for her and although he never meddled in his clients' decisions, he decided to intervene, for her sake and his own.

"You can still resign. I won't burden you with the cost." He said lowly, watching her closely, and saw that she flinched all over. She lifted the gaze of her bright eyes to him, her eyebrows arched in indecision, her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to get something out of herself.

"I…I think I want to try. This one time. Do you think it's a bad idea, sir?" She asked him in a trembling, soft, girlish voice. The note of innocence that lurked in this after all defiant question made him twist in his seat, feeling surprised that his manhood swelled a little − he felt like he was literally burning her with his gaze.

He thought it was because she was so vulnerable − it turned him on that he was more experienced than her and had real control over what could happen next if she wanted it.

He chuckled involuntarily at her words, shaking his head, sighing quietly, looking at her indulgently.

"What I think about it doesn't matter." He murmured lowly, leaning comfortably against the back of his chair with a loud creak of wood.

He felt heat in his lower abdomen at the thought of her not dropping her gaze, boldly staring him in the face as if they had known each other for a long time, despite the fact that most women knew their buttocks would be red and swollen like tomatoes for such insolence.

"I would, however, like to hear your views on the matter, sir." She replied quickly, as if she recognised him as some sort of authority on the matter, a sexologist or anyone else who could give her a diagnosis.

"I am not a doctor. However, I don't think there is anything wrong with trying under controlled conditions. You also have a safe word that you can use at any time to stop whatever I'm doing. You have to decide." He said finally, and saw her nod her head, drawing in air loudly as if gathering her courage, and leaned over, signing the documents in the spaces indicated.

For some reason he involuntarily licked his lips, dried from some kind of excitement, his cock twitching hard in his trousers at the thought that she was really going to do this.

When she finished he took the papers from her, signed them and gave her one copy, reminding her of all the rules they had agreed and what she could not do.

"You can't touch me or kiss me. When we start, you are to call me sir and follow all my instructions. You are to answer all my questions by shaking or nodding your head unless I order you otherwise. I will not stop even if you beg me or cry until I hear your safe word which, please remind us, sounds how?" He asked softly, stapling the papers she had signed with a stapler, tucking them into his drawer, watching her out of the corner of his eye, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen at the very thought of what he was going to do to her.

Why was he so aroused when he hadn't even touched her yet?

"Peach." She muttered embarrassedly, looking down at her hands.

For a moment he wondered if he should add the rule he usually made where a woman couldn't look him in the eye, but something in her eyes captured him − her gaze wasn't seductive or filled with feelings he didn't want to see. He also guessed that forbidding it might overwhelm her even more, and he didn't want that.

He nodded at her words, rising, and she rose with him, holding her backpack in front of her, her shoulders raised slightly in a defensive gesture, as if she was afraid of him and the fact that she had somehow given him control over her.

He approached her slowly, looking at her vigilantly − her eyes fixed on his face as his hand took the rucksack from her arms in a gentle motion, dropping it next to her on the floor. His fingers rose to her cheeks, trailing over them, her jaw and her chin − he felt her tremble all over, surprised, her swollen, plump lips red with emotion.

Although he had never done this, he wanted to get a good look at her first − he knew that going straight to putting his hand in her panties would only frighten her and in this situation his tactics had to be a tad different.

First and foremost, he wanted to reassure her.

He saw that she had closed her eyes, trying to breathe slowly through her mouth as his hands slid down to her neck and her soft hair. He thought, smelling her fruity scent, that he would have given anything to have her kneel before him and take his achingly hard manhood into her mouth.

He decided that perhaps he would use his thoughts to embolden her a little more and let him do what he wanted.

"Such a sweet girl. You have no idea what I'd like to do with those lips." He hummed, feeling a shiver pass through her as one of his hands rose higher again, to her face, parting her lips with his thumb. "How hard I am now."

He saw the shock in her gaze, which quickly escaped down to the bulge in his trousers, her cheeks flushed as she looked up into his face again, her breathing quickened and ragged.

He sighed involuntarily at the sight.

"You can say a lot of things about me, but not that I'm a liar. Open." He commanded in a slightly cooler, stricter tone, her lips immediately parted slightly, allowing his thumb to slide deep between her fleshy, wet lips.

"Suck." He instructed, a quiet moan caught in her throat, her body suddenly quivering as the fingers of his free hand slid lower to her breast, teasing her nipple in calm, circular motions, her lips tightening around his thumb, obeying his command.

"Do you always walk around without a bra? Hm? Do you like it when men look at them?" He muttered warningly, pulling lightly on her nipple, looking at her curiously − she squirmed helplessly, closing her eyes, not knowing what to do with her hands. He could see how, in some subconscious reflex, she wanted to lift them up and embrace him, but reminded herself that she couldn't do that and lowered them again, moving him in some way and arousing him at the same time.

He couldn't remember if his client had ever made him completely hard by her behaviour itself.

"Quiet. We haven't even started properly yet, and already you want me to slap your arse?" He growled mockingly, and she shook her head quickly, drawing in air loudly, looking at him with a pleading look of her big, bright eyes, which he felt between his thighs as his cock swelled unbearably, demanding attention.

"This is my last warning. Lie on your stomach." He said coldly, although inside he felt like his body was on fire.

She obediently pulled off her shoes and lay down on the bed, watching, embarrassed, as he slipped his thumb, moist with her saliva, between his lips and licked it. He quickly pulled off his sweatshirt and shoes, leaving in his black short-sleeved T-shirt and trousers, fixing his hair with a careless flick of his hand.

"Leave only your panties on." He added, hearing her quiet squeal as his large hand gave her one, light, sharp smack on her buttock, just as an encouragement to keep her going.

"Just like that. So pretty." He hummed, watching her undress, climbing onto the bed behind her. He involuntarily licked his lips and grinned in amusement when he saw that underneath her trousers she was wearing pretty lace panties in powder pink.

He thought she was like a lollipop or candy, a sweet little gift bought just for pure pleasure.

As she pulled off her t-shirt she clung with her breasts to the bedclothes, looking somewhere sideways towards the window as if she was afraid of how exposed she was, that she was lying half-naked in front of a strange man who, on top of that, she was going to have to pay for it.

Although he cursed himself for it in the back of his head, the sincerity and naturalness of her behaviour endeared her to him − he thought in disbelief that he wasn't sure that even if she had asked him to punish her more harshly or to cause her intense pain he would have been able to do it.

Would it give him pleasure.

He took her hair aside, exposing her long neck and back, felt her shudder all over as his fingers ran along her spine.

"Are you going to be good, or should I tie you up?" He murmured and she nodded quickly − he hummed under his breath, stroking her bare skin. "Use your words."

"I'll be good. Sir." She added quickly, hearing him shift suddenly in irritation. He let out a loud breath through his nose, leaning down, grasping her wrists in his hands, placing them on either side of her head, showing her the position he expected her to hold them in.

"Your hands are supposed to be here at all times. On the pillow. If I see you take them away from here, I'll tie you up and on top of that, I'll give you ten slaps on the bottom to make sure you remember this lesson well. Do you understand? Use your words." He hissed, driving his fingers into the skin of her wrists, heard her swallow hard and nod her head quickly.

"− y-yes, sir −"

He gasped softly, pleased with her answer and the way it was going − he saw her hands tighten on the material of the pillow as he settled his knees on either side of her buttocks, lowering himself onto them so that she could feel his cock throbbing all under the material of his trousers. She stifled the cry that wanted to escape her lips by pressing her face against his bedding.

"− do you fucking feel it? − do you feel what you're doing to me? −" He muttered, trying to calm his breathing, not knowing why instead of pulling himself together and concentrating on his task he was teasing her, making his manhood painfully hard − he clamped his eyelids shut when he felt her hips begin to buck uncertainly to the rhythm of his movements.

He decided that fuck it, he would do it the way he felt like it, breaking his own rules, knowing that unlike the other women, she really needed this.

His closeness.

She sighed loudly and her whole body trembled as he pressed his face against her soft, fragrant hair, crushing her with his own weight, his hands roamed over the skin of her bare shoulders and the sides of her waist as his nose slowly slid lower, down to her neck, his fingers slipped underneath her and tightened on her soft, plump breasts as his lips pressed against her bare skin.

He heard her start to pant loudly through her mouth, surprised as he was, surely imagining it differently, writhing beneath him, his fingers digging warningly into the soft skin of her breasts, his hot breath enveloping her ear.

"− lie still or we'll do it rough − spread your thighs −" He growled, his thumbs pressing and playing with her nipples. He spread her legs with his knees, making her breath catch in her throat − he could feel her heart pounding fast under his hands, his tongue ran over the bare skin of her neck, smelling the salty taste of her sweat and the sweet taste of her perfume.

"− you're already wet, hm? − shall we check? −" He sneered, sliding the palms of his one hand down her belly − he saw out of the corner of his eye that her fingers clenched tightly on the fabric of the pillow, her whole body stiffened, her head tilted slightly as his fingertips pushed the soft, soaked material of her underwear aside, sinking into her leaking, fleshy womanhood.

"− good God − look at you − all sticky and warm −" He gasped as his fingers began to tease and squeeze her clit lightly, giving her a few encouraging strokes from which helpless, muffled sounds tried to escape her throat − his hand let go of her breasts for a moment and slapped her buttock with all his might, reminding her that she was supposed to be quiet.

He didn't even notice when he started rubbing against her faster from the top, chasing his own fulfilment, completely aroused by what was happening to her, how she was responding to him.

He felt like his cock was about to explode.

"− moan for me − let me hear these sweet sounds −" He whispered in her ear, driving his fingers harder into the soft, leaking structure of her folds.

Moan for me?

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He sighed when she cried out loudly, clenching her eyes, writhing all under him, again and again rubbing his sore cock with her buttocks. He felt ashamed that even though he was the master of the situation, it seemed to him that somehow it was she who was dictating how it looked, or rather his inability to treat her as he did his other clients.

There was something innocent about her, that her goal was not for him to humiliate her, beat her or hurt her, but for him to guide her, to show her what she really desired and what he could do with her body.

He thought, running his fingertips over her moist, hot slit, that perhaps this was what he had been craving deep inside himself all this time.

"− ah − please, sir −" She mewled helplessly, and he felt her words between his thighs. He licked his lips, trailing his fingers over her throbbing, weeping cunt, teasing her hard nipple with his other hand, each of his movements accompanied by the loud click of her moisture.

"− what are you asking me to do? − use your words −" He exhaled, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to climax himself, and wondered if he was going to cum in his own trousers for the first time in his life.

"− please − please, put it inside me −" She mumbled out and he swallowed hard feeling her buttocks rubbing against his cock.

He froze for a moment, running his fingers over her hot, leaking folds, fighting with himself, on the one hand wanting only this, on the other the contract was different and he never broke the terms he himself had agreed to and signed.

What if, afterwards, she found that she didn't want it and decided that he had raped her, go to the police with it?

This thought sobered his mind a little, though his whole body shuddered with disappointment, his two fingers suddenly forced their way inside her with her moan of pleasure.

"− I can't − you know I can't, don't you? −" He breathed out, pressing the tips of his fingertips into the fleshy structure of her muscles, searching for the spot hidden between them.

She shuddered all over when he felt it a moment later, his thumb trailing over her clit as his two fingers dug in between her slick folds with a loud click of her wetness − he felt her whole body tense in anticipation, again and again his fingers squeezed her the way she needed it.

"− I'll be good, sir − please − please − please − I'll be good −" She cried out, her sticky walls began to clench around his fingers, sucking them inside and he closed his eyes, imagining he felt it on his hard, aching cock.

How tight she was.

He'd never done this before and he knew he shouldn't, but for some reason he was desperate, his mind clouded by what he'd seen and what he needed.

He watched her face in disbelief, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her lips parted sweetly in a loud, accelerated breath.

"We can do this, but on my terms. I'll just fuck you, nothing more. No money. Do you understand?" He asked her in a trembling voice, as if he wanted to make sure she understood, that it meant nothing to him, that she just turned him on too much and he wanted to take it out on her.

He saw her eyes open suddenly, fear and relief filling her gaze as she whispered just a few words without looking at him.

"Let me look at your face, sir."

He himself didn't know when he suddenly flipped her onto her back as his lips clung with a loud purr to her hard, swollen nipple, sucking and licking it − he heard her moan loudly, startled, making him lose his temper. His hands in a helpless reflex slid down to the button of his trousers and his zipper, releasing his erection quickly, he wasn't sure he had ever been so terrified and aroused at the same time.

He knew things had gotten out of hand and that he would regret it, but he couldn't deny himself, knowing that he would probably never see her again.

"Don't touch me. Do you understand? If you touch me, I'll stop and I'll slap your arse so hard you won't be able to sit for the next few weeks." He hissed, looking her straight in the face, reaching his hand into his pocket to pull out the condom −she merely nodded, her hands clenched on either side of her face, her swollen lips parted in a quick, uneven breath.

He looked at her pretty figure, her sweet, plump breasts, her flushed face, her hair in disarray, and thought helplessly that she was beautiful and that he would go mad if he didn't do this to her.

Never before had he put a condom over his length as quickly as he did then − with a quick, sure, impatient movement he slid her panties off her, already all wet with her moisture, grabbed her by her hips and pushed her closer, momentarily forcing her tight, leaking folds to let him inside her.

He didn't speak, because he didn't know what he was supposed to say either, ashamed of his own desperation as he pushed deeper into her with a sure, sharp thrust.

He began to pound into her as if he had completely lost his mind, fast and out of control − she threw her head to the side, writhing beneath him, moaning loudly, her walls wonderfully moist and hot, clenching on him so tightly that he struggled to restrain himself from cumming just yet, not wanting to humiliate himself.

"− oh God −" He muttered, looking at her as if through a fog, leaning over her, his hands found hers, her fingers clenched on them, seeking proximity − she looked up at him pleadingly, panting and quivering.

He suspected that never before had anyone fucked her at such a brutal, fast pace from which she couldn't catch her breath, her thighs spread wide before him in a gesture of trust, their bodies slapping against each other with the loud clicks of her wetness.

"− these idiots couldn't even fuck you properly, hm? −" He panted low and she only nodded, his fingers intertwining with hers in some subconscious reflex, as if he wanted to show her that he understood her, that she had a right to be disappointed, that he had no idea how any man could fail to give her what she needed.

"− my poor little baby − am I right? −" He breathed out and she cried loudly and nodded her head, something in her gaze, in her eyes flooded with tears, filled with despair, tenderness and relief made him lean lower and cling to her lips.

She moaned loudly into his throat and he felt her walls squeeze him tightly with a sudden, intense orgasm, sucking him inside as his tongue invaded between her lips. She reciprocated his kiss with such devotion that a few of his helpless, sloppy thrusts were enough to make him cum into the condon.

"− fuck − fuck, baby −" He breathed out into her mouth as if she was his, as if they were in his bed in his flat, as if he loved her and was about to have dinner with her or go to sleep lying next to her, as if she wasn't a stranger to him, her sweet scent, her innocent sounds and the taste of her mouth were all that filled his mind as he continued to rock his hips deep inside her.

Even though they had both came, they didn't stop kissing, their lips joining and pulling away from each other lazily with a loud click of their saliva, his hands roaming up and down her fingers, alternately stroking them and entwining them with his own again.

Something about what was happening between them, about this sudden, unexpected closeness calmed him and made him completely drift off.

He knew that she had wanted to touch and kiss him from the very beginning, but she still respected his decision and his rules.

And he, for some reason incomprehensible to himself, broke them for her.

He pressed his face to her cheek, panting along with her, unsure of what he should do now, distracted and ashamed that he couldn't help himself, that for the first time in his life he had overstepped the time and competence he should have given her.

And that wasn't good.

What if she thinks now that they are in love with each other, that maybe one day they will be together? If she starts writing to him and stalking him like so many women before her?

"I'm sorry." He heard her whisper and shuddered, snapped out of his reverie.

He opened his eyes and met her gaze, her hands still on either side of her head. He grunted quietly, horrified at how close she was, that he could smell her pleasant scent so intensely, her breath, the warmth of her body.

"I'm the one who should apologise. I behaved unprofessionally. I won't take money from you." He replied after a moment, and she shook her head, shocked.

"− n-no, why − I mean − after all, you did what we agreed to do − you gave me your time, I −"

"− you're not the kind of person who would enjoy a strong dominant-submissive interaction − you'd be terrified − you're worrying too much − probably those guys before me didn't ask you what you needed, hm? − that's what I thought − there's nothing wrong with you − that's my diagnosis −" He hummed, sighing heavily, lifting himself up on his elbows, placing a lingering, tender kiss on her forehead.

He slipped out of her gently with her quiet hiss of discomfort − he saw her press her lips together when he slided the shed condom off his manhood and tie it off, tossing it into the small bin standing next to his bed, zipping his trousers back up. He saw her reach with a trembling hand for her underwear and sighed under his breath, shaking his head.

"Wipe yourself well first, the tissues are lying on the table next to you. Don't you have underwear to change into?" He asked uncertainly, realising that this was usually obvious to the women who visited him, as it was to him, so he didn't warn her, thinking she would figure it out for herself.

She shook her head quickly and he sighed heavily, taking a bottle of water standing on the table, unscrewing it and handing it to her, seeing that she completely didn't know what she should do with herself now.

"− drink − you'd better just wipe yourself off and put your trousers on −" He replied and she nodded, red with embarrassment, taking a few deep sips of water without looking at him.

He turned away as she started to get dressed, running his hand over his face, recognising that he was an idiot and had completely lost his fucking mind, unable to forgive himself for fucking her even though their terms were different.

He shuddered as she approached him quietly − he thought terrified that she was going to try to touch him, maybe even thinking they were going to become lovers now, but she just held a bundle of banknotes in front of him, looking at him pleadingly.

"− I already told you I won't take it − keep it −"

"− I can't, after all −"

"− don't piss me off −" He growled, and she pressed her lips together, lowering her hand, swallowing loudly.

They stared at each other for a long moment in awkward silence to say the least − he grunted, combing his fingers through his hair, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding like crazy.

What was happening to him?

"− consider it a gift − we both made each other feel good − right? −" He asked, as if he wanted to make sure he hadn't hurt her. She nodded and smiled softly, shyly, for some reason making him feel a squeeze in his throat.

He regretted that she had ever written to him.

He regretted that he had said yes.

He regretted that it had been so pleasant.

"− thank you − and I apologise again − I won't take up your time anymore − I wish you all the best − please take care of yourself and be happy −" She said finally, and he flinched, looking at her in disbelief − he felt that his lips were parted in shock as he looked at her dully.

He didn't know what to answer.

Only after a while did he get anything out of himself, feeling that she was due at least some perfunctory response.

"− it's me who's sorry − I also wish you all the best −"

She nodded and smiled warmly at him, before her trembling hand reached for her backpack and headed towards the door, opening it and disappearing behind it a moment later.

He looked at the bed, at the sheets where the mark of her body was clearly visible, the fact that she had just been lying there, that he had been deep inside her and had fucked her like he had never put his cock inside any woman before.

He went over there and just lay on his stomach, sinking his face into the pillow that was drenched in her scent.

For the next few days, his head was in a state of chaos − one part of him was afraid that she would reach out to him, that she would seek contact or a relationship with him, like so many women before her wanting to be special to him, to be the only one.

The other part of him was even begging for her to do it, for him to be able to free himself at last from the memories of what he had done to her, that she had broken something in him, that he couldn't look at the women who came after her.

He couldn't focus, he felt remorse, he couldn't even get aroused and he was so frustrated that, to the despair of his regular clients, he decided to take a break for a few weeks to cool down.

His friend from university, Robert, had already invited him to his birthday party a month earlier and although he didn't have the energy to go anywhere, he knew that afterwards he would be listening to him and Criston moan in class about how completely unsocial he was.

He figured that since it was only going to be a private party at his house, he might as well go there at least for a while so no one would accuse him of lack of effort.

When he stopped outside his house he got out of the car and decided to have a quick cigarette, tired and discouraged, knowing that sooner or later his savings would run out and he would have to go back to it, whether he wanted to or not.

Or find another, lower-paid job.

He sighed heavily, clamping his fingers over the base of his nose, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. He heard movement beside him and the screech of brakes, lifted his gaze and froze when it became apparent that she had just sat down beside him from her bike, a wide smile on her lips as if she thought he was a stranger, only recognising him after a moment, her lips parted then in horror, panic in her gaze.

He stared at her, feeling his body freeze.

Fuck.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

"Oh God. Do you know Robert?" She muttered, and he swallowed hard, feeling a tightening in his throat at the thought that she could have been his friend's girlfriend.

"Yes. Fuck. And you?" He asked her quickly with some sort of accusation, from which she swallowed hard.

"I-I, I'm his younger sister. I went to get some candles, I didn't know…"

"It's okay. I'll just go home." He replied, taking a few quick puffs of his cigarette, crushing it with his foot, turning back towards his car.

"N-no, please. Are you Aemond? Did I guess right? Robert was telling me about you. How he's glad you're coming. That you rarely talk or go out somewhere as a threesome with Criston. It's good that we met here, we'll avoid an awkward greeting. Please, don't be embarrassed." She muttered, and he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, heartbroken. They both shuddered when they heard a knock on the glass, Robert looked at them through the window and started waving at them, gleeful.

Jesus Christ.

They both headed towards her house, knowing that since he'd seen him, he couldn't run away anymore anyway. He was terrified that since she was Robert's sister, she was someone familiar, not a stranger, that this changed everything and nothing, his heart pounding like mad.

"Do you have a lighter?" She asked as they stopped in front of the front door and he shook his head, snapped out of his reverie, frowning his brow.

"What?"

"Do you have a lighter? Can you help me? I need to light the candles on his birthday cake." She muttered in a whisper as if someone might overhear them, and she was telling him an important secret. He sighed heavily and nodded, recognising that he must have been dreaming all this.

Robert greeted him with joy, all around them Criston, their family and a few of his high school friends, a whole group of people he didn't know and with whom he knew he wouldn't find common ground, and among them her.

He wished him well and gave him his present, but he was unable to focus − he met her terrified gaze, she was pointing her finger at him that she needed his help in the kitchen.

He followed her as if into the lion's mouth, watching from the side as she opened the fridge in the darkness, taking out a blueberry meringue. She sighed heavily, placing it on the table in front of him, only the lights of the street lamps around them.

"It looked better in the picture on the internet, but I did my best." She mumbled, as if she wanted to say anything that would lighten the atmosphere between them.

He felt like an idiot when their trembling hands touched as he handed her the lighter and swallowed loudly, watching as one by one the candles began to glow with the warm, bright light of the flame.

He wanted to ask her if something in her life had changed, if she now knew what she wanted and needed, if she thought about what had happened.

Was she thinking about him.

She picked up the cake when it was all ready and let the air out loud through her mouth, looking him straight in the eye.

"Let's go."

After singing a short 'Happy Birthday', Robert blew out all the candles, happy to announce that his little sister had remembered what cake he loved best, assuring everyone that it was certainly delicious.

They spent the whole party throwing surreptitious, embarrassed glances at each other − he had to empty a few glasses of strong Whisky to calm himself down, the alcohol relaxing him a little, though only seemingly, suppressing his fear, but making him start thinking about something else again.

He looked at her figure dressed in a modest mid-thigh summer dress, her hair, her face − saw the way she laughed, the way she talked to others and felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that then, being with him, she wasn't pretending.

She really was like that.

Affectionate, open, sweet, kind.

Everything he wasn't.

He swallowed heavily at the thought, sad and embittered, taking another deep sip from his glass.

"How are you going to get home? Criston is staying the night at our house, why don't you stay too? It's late." Said Robert sitting down next to him on the couch, patting him on the back in a friendly manner, already himself relaxed by the considerable amount of alcohol his body had assimilated.

He swallowed hard, looking at his sister from afar, feeling that this was a very bad idea.

"Why not." He muttered, thinking that he was a moron for looking for trouble himself, and that if Robert found out what he'd done to his sister, he'd kill him with his own hands.

Criston and a few others occupied the upstairs rooms, and he suggested he could sleep in the living room on the couch, to which Robert agreed.

He hoped this would embolden her to come to him, as he himself would never have dared to knock on her door despite how desperate he was.

At the thought that he might feel her again, his manhood reacted with an enthusiastic, intense pulsing in his trousers.

He felt that he was drunk as he began to pull off his black tight turtleneck, managing it with difficulty, pulling off his shoes, laying down dressed only in Tshirt and trousers with a quiet sigh and covered himself carelessly with the blanket, listening.

Is she going to do it or not?

And even if she comes to him, should he agree?

He felt disappointment when an hour passed and nothing happened, silence all around him and the loud snoring of someone coming from the upstairs rooms, perhaps her and Robert's father. He sighed heavily, recognising that he had made it all up, that she was surely now ashamed of him and what she had done, trying to forget it.

He swallowed hard at the thought, feeling discomfort in his stomach, and closed his eyes, figuring he would try to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He shuddered and opened them again when he heard a quiet creak, as if someone was walking down the corridor above him, but he wasn't sure himself if it wasn't just his imagination. A shiver ran down his spine and his manhood swelled all over when he heard someone quietly walk down the steps.

Whoever this person was, however, she didn't approach him but walked through the living room to the kitchen.

He felt his heart start pounding like crazy when he caught sight of her silhouette in the darkness, dressed only in an oversized white Tshirt and light shorts − she walked over to the tap, took a glass from the drawer and poured herself some water.

Should he approach her or not?

What if she gets scared?

Fuck.

He didn't even know when he just picked himself up on the couch, for some reason doing it very slowly so that his movements couldn't be heard − he felt like a predator who wanted to get closer to his prey even though he didn't really intend to harm her.

As soon as he stood up he immediately felt the room around him spin, the pleasant, intoxicating warmth of the alcohol melting through his lower abdomen making him seem less terrified of what he wanted to do than if he had been completely sober.

When she caught sight of his silhouette out of the corner of her eye she almost choked on the water − she spat some of it into the sink coughing loudly, making him freeze motionless, afraid to approach her. She quickly wiped her mouth with her hand, looking at him with big eyes.

"My God, you scared me." She muttered pale, her pretty, smooth face illuminated by the warm light of the street lamps standing in front of her house.

He stared at her for a moment, thinking that perhaps it must all have been a dream after all, that the fact that she was standing in front of him was unreal, invented by his distraught, drunken mind.

"I'm sorry." He stammered, swallowing hard, standing a good distance away from her, fighting with himself not to look shamelessly at her bare legs and her nipples peeking through from under her T-shirt.

Again.

They stood for a moment in uncomfortable silence, both of them breathing embarrassingly loudly, as if each of them was reliving deep inside themselves the fact that they were seeing each other again.

And on top of that, in her brother's house.

"I didn't know you were his sister. I swear. I would never do that to you." He finally started to speak, to explain, although he didn't know why − he had the feeling that he was trying to get anything out of himself so she didn't go back upstairs to her room.

He heard her sigh quietly, stroking her bare shoulder with her trembling hand. She shifted from foot to foot in a nervous gesture, looking somewhere to the side, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath.

"I know." She whispered, and he felt a heat in his lower abdomen and a pleasant shudder at the thought that perhaps she wasn't misjudging him, that perhaps she wasn't disgusted by him at all.

"How do you feel? I mean − are you okay?" She asked in a trembling voice, as if she wasn't sure if she should be asking this kind of question. She glanced at him uncertainly, clearly wanting to check his reaction, he stared at her stunned, completely surprised by her question.

"− I… yeah, I guess − I mean, I'm on a break from − you know − from this − right now −" He muttered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, looking at the floor, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for some reason.

It's because of you, he wanted to say.

I did it for you.

"Something happened?" She asked after a moment, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex, as if she was afraid of what she would hear.

"− yes − I mean − I have doubts − I always had, but now… they've intensified − you know −" He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, feeling the tightness in his throat and stomach growing stronger, his heart pounding like mad, cold sweat running down his back.

I'm just a whore, he thought.

I sell myself for money.

She nodded her head quickly so he knew she understood.

"− I'm sorry −" She said quietly, and he looked at her dully, not knowing why for some reason his lower lip trembled, why he felt a burning sensation under his eyelids.

He was ashamed that he desired her so much, that he wanted her words but also her body, wanted to fuck her first and then embrace her and fall asleep.

Was he treating her objectively? Was he only able to think about one thing?

Sex, sex, sex, sex.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

He shuddered, drawing in air loudly as she came closer to him, in her gaze genuine fear and worry at his condition, questioning whether she could do anything for him, help him in any way.

He knew she longed to touch him − he saw out of the corner of his eye her hand rising to touch his shoulder but falling back after a moment, reminding himself that he never allowed anyone to invade his space.

He felt like screaming.

"− do you want to talk about it? −"

He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to anyone about it, but after a while he was sitting next to her on the terrace anyway, covered in a thick, soft blanket, sitting next to her on a rather uncomfortable wooden bench hanging by chains, which he rocked back and forth with involuntary movements of his knees, lighting a cigarette from his lighter with a quiet hiss of fire.

He took a drag and let the smoke out loudly through his nose, sighing quietly, just thinking about the fact that their hips and shoulders were touching.

"What did you think of me? After all this." He asked suddenly, swallowing loudly as he heard her twist in her place, throwing him a surprised, even horrified look. She sighed quietly, covering herself more tightly with the fluffy material.

"That you are a good man."

He felt his hand with the cigarette freeze in mid-motion as he was about to take another drag and for some reason he laughed in disbelief at her words, feeling a piercing pain in his chest, his eyebrows arching in amusement.

"That I'm a good man. Good God." He hummed, taking another drag − he could see she was looking down at her fingers, ashamed of her words and his cruel reaction. He licked his lower lip with his tongue and closed his eyes, feeling that he was completely hard.

He could smell her, she was still using that fruity, pleasant, fresh perfume.

"You're a romantic, innocent soul, aren't you?" He sneered, letting the smoke out again through his nose with a loud sigh − he heard her cough quietly as the smell of tobacco rose into her lungs. She grunted quietly, her lips tightened in displeasure.

"Innocent souls come to a strange man to spank them for money?"

"You didn't want me to spank you. You haven't experienced even a hint of real, hard domination, sweet girl." He snarled, spreading himself out comfortably on the back of the bench with a loud creak of wood, the metal chains squeaking quietly each time he made another movement with his foot, putting the structure in motion.

"So why did you agree to this?" She asked finally, and he fell silent, staring blankly ahead, taking one last drag on what was left of his cigarette.

"Good question."

They both fell silent again, feeling that their conversation was starting to get out of hand, and after all, someone could have woken up, opened the window, overheard their words.

"Did you tell Robert?" He asked suddenly, and she shook her head, horrified.

"N-no, of course not. And I won't. This is between you two. He respects you very much." She muttered, lowering her gaze to her bent knees, which she held under her chin. He hummed at her statement, accepting her words with some sort of relief.

"Did that help you? Now you know what you need?" He asked impassively, letting the smoke out loudly through his mouth, dropping the remnants of his cigarette into the glass with the unfinished drink, feeling her gaze on him, her body tense, he knew she had hesitated.

"In a way." She replied, and he dared to look her straight in the eye.

She didn't lower her gaze even though he knew some part of her wanted to do so, her lips parted slightly when she noticed his hands had slipped under the blanket, into his trousers. She swallowed loudly when she heard the sound of his zipper being undone and the fabric being unfastened.

"Come here. Sit on my lap." He ordered softly, and she did so without hesitation, as if she had only been waiting for those words, something in her confidence, in her assurance, in her desire, in her hot gaze made his breath stand in his throat.

They said nothing as he slipped her shorts off her, as he lowered his trousers, finally releasing his aching, swollen erection, already leaking from his precum. He didn't protest when her hands tentatively embraced his neck, barely touching him, merely catching her balance, his free hand covering their hips with a blanket.

"I'm clean. I had myself tested a few weeks ago, after I'd already taken a break." He whispered, feeling his cock throb aggressively in his hand at the thought that he could come deep inside her if she would just let him. She nodded her head in understanding, one movement of his hand between her thighs reassuring him that no further treatment would be necessary.

"Have you been this wet all evening? Hm? Have you suffered as much as I have?" He gasped, directing the pink, fat head of his manhood at her swollen slit. She nodded again, her lips parted in disbelief and delight, her eyes closed as she felt him begin to push inside her,his thumbs spreading her folds to the sides, watching with a rapidly beating heart as he slowly opened her wide on his cock.

"− fuck − fuck, tell me you're taking your pills −" He breathed out, tilting his head back, with one sure thrust of his hips filling her tight, leaking cunt to the brim. She squirmed quietly as he began to move inside her immediately, pounding into her with deep, sure stabs, rubbing each time the spot inside her from where she could see stars.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled out, rising and falling on his thick, aching manhood, giving him a wonderful squeeze each time, from which he sank his fingers deeper into her soft buttocks, forcing her into a fast, sharp rhythm in which he hardly slid out of her, panting and grunting louder than usual, thinking only of how wonderfully warm she was, that he could feel her moist, fleshy walls with his whole being with each sure thrust.

"− kiss me −" He exhaled and groaned loudly into her mouth as her lips instantly clung to his in a sloppy, sticky dance, his tongue invading deep into her throat, a shudder went through him as one of her hands combed through his hair.

"− m sorry −" She mumbled, immediately lowering her hand, but he put his one arm around her waist and pressed her closer to him, deepening the kiss with a loud purr of satisfaction, feeling wonderful, the alcohol had given him courage, and her touch was sweet and tender, not making him feel cornered.

"− it's okay − touch my face −" He sighed out between loud, wet licks of their swollen lips, quickening his pace as her hands gripped his cheeks, as her forehead pressed against his. Her walls began to clench on him with increasing intensity, making him lose his temper, not letting her escape the brutal thrusts of his hips.

"− oh, God − fuck, where −" He only mumbled, feeling that it was about to be too late.

"− please, inside me − ah −" She mewled so sweetly that he sighed loudly, surprised to feel his muscles relax, his semen spilling deep inside her without his willpower as her walls began to suck him and squeeze him in orgasm.

They both panted loudly, rocking their hips for a while longer, pulsing and shuddering, stroking each other's faces, looking at each other with their lips slightly parted, breathing heavily.

"− shall we go out somewhere tomorrow? − you know − to the pub or something? −" He muttered embarrassed that he had wanted something more, that he broke his own rule.

He was relieved when she giggled and smiled, nodding, only to lean in a moment later and kiss him in a drawn-out manner with her soft, puffy lips. He murmured contentedly, stroking her warm, bare buttocks with lazy movements, reciprocating her caress with a loud click of their saliva.

She pulled away from him at last, her hand combing slowly through his short hair making a pleasant shiver run along his spine.

"− why not −"

403 notes · View notes

edenesth · 16 days

Text

Scarlet Requiem

Pairing: emperor!Baekhyun x empress!reader

AU: historical au (Goryeo era)

Word Count: 4k

Summary: In his reign, Baekhyun strived to be a virtuous emperor, all for the sake of his kind-hearted empress, steadfastly resisting the temptations of power that had corrupted those before him. He held onto the belief that this was the key to securing her eternal presence by his side. Yet, he learned, to his heartbreak, that this very resolve would lead to the cruellest loss of all.

Genre: heavy angst

Trigger Warnings: major character death, violence, gore, lots of blood

MAIN MASTERLIST

"Capture that demon before she flees!"

Her hands trembled as she gazed at her reflection in the ornate gold mirror. Once healthy skin now bore a sickly pallor, brown eyes turned crimson, tears staining her cheeks red. Even her jet-black hair had transformed to snowy white. Confusion and fear gripped her as she struggled to comprehend the inexplicable transformation.

As guards roughly seized her arms, she pleaded, "No, please! I've done nothing wrong! I don't understand any of this!"

"Of course, you'd deny it, Your Imperial Majesty," sneered the Minister of Rites, one of many who had urged her husband, the emperor, to accept their daughters as concubines. "Little did you know, those potions you received from the royal healer for the past month were meant to reveal your true nature by shedding your human guise."

Horror pierced her heart as realisation dawned. The tonics meant to maintain her health had been a ruse. She had been poisoned, it explained the sudden and alarming changes in her body and health.

"You," she whispered, the weight of the truth settling heavily upon her. "It was all you."

She was not naive; she understood the ministers' discontent with her influence over Baekhyun throughout his reign. Their persistent attempts to sway him, offering their daughters as concubines to bolster their own power and threaten her position, had not escaped her notice. Their frustration must have reached its zenith when her husband adamantly refused their advances, steadfast in his commitment to her as his one and only empress.

"Hm? I'm not sure I understand what you're implying," the man smirked, his deceptive tone belying his words. "We've long suspected there was more to you, Your Imperial Majesty. It appears you're indeed a demon, effortlessly manipulating the emperor. Surely a man of his stature would desire more than one woman by his side?"

Struggling against the guards' grasp, she retorted weakly, "You vile cowards. You'll rue the day my husband learns of this..."

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, revealing their sinister plot. They had bided their time, seizing the perfect opportunity amidst the chaos of war. With Baekhyun, the virtuous emperor she had wished him to be, leading the army, they saw their chance to poison her, framing her as a demon to eradicate her while he was away.

"Or perhaps we'll witness the rise of the ambitious emperor we've long awaited. He will finally be able to reach his full potential without you here obstructing his path," he sneered, gesturing towards the approaching healer with another bowl of poison. "Just comply and drink your tonic, Your Imperial Majesty. Your suffering will soon end, and our nation will thrive under the rule of a new emperor, liberated from your naive ideals."

As the sinister men tightened their grip, she sobbed in agony, the relentless headache from the past month resurfacing with a vengeance. Each touch felt like a dagger through her skull, each word a cruel reminder of her plight.

With an apologetic bow of his head, the healer cupped her jaw, his hands trembling as he forced the bowl of poison towards her lips. "Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty," he whispered, his voice trembling with remorse. "This will be the last one, I promise."

She gagged as the bitter liquid slid down her throat, burning with each swallow. Crimson tears streamed down her white face as she choked on the vile concoction, feeling her strength wane with each passing moment. In that desperate moment, all she could do was pray for salvation from the nightmare consuming her.

As the healer finally released his hold, she felt despair engulf her. The bitter poison settled within her damaged insides, coursing through her veins like a silent killer, slowly consuming her from within.

"It is done, my lord. The empress will not survive through the night," the healer declared, his voice carrying a finality that chilled her to the bone.

The minister's grin widened with satisfaction. "Excellent. Arrange for someone to confirm her death by dawn. Let her enjoy her final moments in the comforts of her own chambers. His Imperial Majesty will surely be grateful we've rid him of his treacherous demon of a wife upon his return from war."

Laying limply in the centre of her grand chambers, the very space she had once despised before ascending to empress, memories flooded her mind. She recalled the scepticism that clouded her heart when she first found herself falling for the crown prince of the nation. After all, history had taught her that no happy endings awaited the women who loved emperors. But Baekhyun was different—he was loving, caring, and considerate, going to great lengths to prove his devotion to her.

He swore never to take concubines, to resist the allure of power, and to remain hers, and hers alone. Despite the admiration of the entire nation, he remained committed to prioritising her above all else, even if it meant drawing the ire of his ministers and officials. Their accusations of his partiality towards his empress over his nation only served to strengthen his resolve, his unwavering loyalty to her.

But now, as she lay weakened by poison, she realised the tragic irony of his goodness. It was his very commitment to righteousness that led him to the battlefield, refusing to let his men fight in his stead. And it was this decision that ultimately sealed their fate, leaving her to face the consequences of his noble intentions.

As the darkness closed in around her, she couldn't help but wonder how Baekhyun would react upon returning to find her lifeless form in this state. Would he succumb to the poisonous words of his ministers, believing their accusations that she had been a demon all along? Would he entertain the notion that she had bewitched him, clouding his judgement and leading him astray?

Or would he remain firm in his loyalty, unwavering in his belief that this was nothing more than a cruel ploy to rid him of her for good? In the depths of her fading consciousness, she desperately clung to the hope that he would see through the lies, that his love for her would prevail over doubt.

On the brink of death, she yearned to trust in his endless devotion to her, to believe that he would never doubt the love they shared. It was a fragile hope, but in that moment, it was all she had to cling to as she slipped further into the darkness, awaiting the inevitable arrival of dawn and the fate it would eventually bring.

"Forgive me for not being strong enough, Baek," she whispered into the stillness of the chamber, her voice barely a breath against the heavy silence. "Please don't blame yourself for any of this."

As the darkness threatened to swallow her entirely, she couldn't help but reflect on the warnings of history, the cautionary tales of women who loved emperors, only to meet tragic ends. Once again, it seemed, she had fallen victim to the same fate.

Her vision blurred with crimson tears as memories flooded her mind—moments shared with Baekhyun before he departed for battle, blissfully unaware that they would be their last. Each memory stung with bittersweet intensity, a painful reminder of what could have been, had fate been kinder.

As her life ebbed away, flashes of cherished moments with him flickered through her mind like scattered stars in the night sky.

Wrapped in the warmth of silk sheets, doubts clouded her mind one morning, questioning her husband's resolve to remain faithful amidst the pressures of his position.

"Would you truly refuse to take any concubines, Baek?" she inquired, her voice laced with uncertainty. "You're aware that the ministers and officials desire it, and perhaps even the citizens of our nation. For all we know, the people might have grown weary of this same dull empress who has yet to bear you an heir."

He drew her close, pulling the silk sheets higher to shield her bare form from the chill seeping through the open windows. Pressing a tender kiss upon her head, he smiled reassuringly. "Never, my love. I do not care for their political machinations. I won't forsake my vow to you. You will remain my only wife, that is final. I did not ask to be emperor, the role was thrust upon me. Now that I am here, they should at least be grateful I am fulfilling my general duties."

She chuckled, nestling into the crook of his neck as he added, "Besides, if the ministers and officials are so displeased, they could just dismiss me. That would be even better; we could live in a quiet little village, just as we've always dreamed."

In another memory, standing before her reflection, plagued by insecurities instilled by the scheming ministers, his unwavering admiration melted her fears away.

"You look beautiful, my empress. You always do," he reassured, approaching from behind to envelop her in his arms.

"Not as beautiful as those young maidens, I fear. I am old," she confessed, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness after witnessing the ministers' attempts to seduce the emperor with their daughters.

Baekhyun gently turned her to face him. "If you're old, then I must be ancient," he teased. "I believe it's only fitting that I am with someone my age, and that's you, my empress. I have no interest in marrying children or anyone else for that matter; I am a taken man. Don't you dare compare yourself to anyone else again, you hear me? You're the most beautiful woman in my eyes, and that's all that matters."

In the final embrace before he departed for war, hearts heavy with the uncertainty of his return, they clung to each other.

"I will be back before you know it, my love. You'll wait for me, won't you?" her husband murmured against her neck, his arms tightening around her.

"Where else would I go, you idiot? Of course, I'll be waiting right here," she retorted, tightening her hold around his shoulders.

Amidst tears and laughter, he leaned in to kiss her deeply, pressing his lips against her soft ones over and over again to imprint the sensation into memory.

"I love you, my empress," Baekhyun whispered against her lips before pulling away, his eyes full of love and determination.

In the quiet of her chamber, she found solace in the fleeting recollections, clinging to them as the darkness threatened to consume her entirely. And as the crimson tears clouded her eyes once more, she resigned herself to the inevitable, silently bidding farewell to the life she once knew.

"I love you too, my emperor."

"I will not ask again, where is she?!" the emperor's voice thundered through the throne room as he stormed back into the palace, abandoning the battle upon learning the shocking revelation. According to the Minister of Rites in his letter, the empress had been discovered to be a demon all along, concealing her true nature under human skin to manipulate him and bend him to her will.

The eunuch panicked and fell to his knees. "Th-the empress is confined to her grand chambers, Your Imperial Majesty!"

Without uttering another word, Baekhyun stormed over immediately, his heart thumping loudly against his chest as fury overtook his being. Betrayal flooded his veins; he was seething with anger.

"You will regret lying to me," he growled under his breath, his vision zeroing in on the path towards her chambers, the place he frequented more than his own. "You will regret deceiving me."

Upon reaching the entrance of her chambers, he turned to the eunuch. "Gather all the ministers and officials who played a part in discovering the empress as what they claimed her to be in the throne room. I wish to speak with them soon."

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty," the eunuch hurriedly replied before darting off to carry out his orders. Baekhyun steadied his breaths, his hand resting on the door as he prepared to face her once more. Under his breath, he vowed, "I swear, you will all regret it. How dare you accuse my wife of being what you are—demons."

I'm here now, my love.

Stepping into the familiar room, the emperor's heart raced with anxiety as he mulled over a perfect apology. He needed to express his deep remorse for not being there when she needed him the most, for failing to shield her from the treachery of those vultures. Reflecting on his actions, he realised he should have never left her behind. In his rush to leave for war, he had neglected to arrange proper protection for her. In hindsight, he understood that he should have never left her side in the first place.

Determined to make amends, he vowed to do better. He resolved to never again allow those ministers or officials the opportunity to torment her in his absence again. From now on, he would be her shield, her staunch protector, and her unending support.

But it might be too late for any of that.

His steps faltered, his breath caught in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat as he beheld the sight before his eyes. The sword in his hands slipped, clanging loudly as it hit the ground, and he sank to his knees in disbelief at the last thing he expected to see.

His shock deepened as he took in his wife's unrecognisable appearance. Crawling towards her limp form on the ground, he pulled her into his arms, his voice trembling with anguish. The horror settled within him like a heavy weight as he tried to imagine what atrocities these monsters had dared inflict upon her while he was gone. His mind raced with images of torture and torment, each one more gruesome than the last.

"Oh god, what have they done to you?" he whispered, his heart fracturing into a million shards as he struggled to comprehend her pale skin, her white hair, and the blood-like tears staining her cheeks. With shaking hands, he gently cupped her cold cheek, his fingers tracing the contours of her face as if seeking reassurance that she was still there, still his beloved wife.

"Please wake up, my love. This isn't funny, stop scaring me," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "You promised to wait for me. You promised..." His words trailed off into a broken sob as he refused to accept anything but the truth, shaking his head in denial even as he searched desperately for a pulse, even when she remained unresponsive.

"No, no, no... this can't be real. It can't be," he murmured, his mind reeling with the unimaginable horror of what he had found.

Despair and regret enveloped him as he sobbed painfully, holding her lifeless body tightly against his chest. The realisation that she was truly gone, that her final moments were spent alone in the very room she despised just to be with him, weighed heavily on his heart. He grappled with the bitter truth that he had failed her, just as she had feared when she hesitated to be with him.

Gradually, his sorrow gave way to seething rage as he recalled the faces of the ministers and officials responsible for this atrocity. They had callously taken her life, foolishly believing he would be deceived by their feeble attempt to frame her. With trembling hands, he picked up a shard of the shattered bowl nearby and brought it to his nose, recognising the metallic scent of mercury.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

They had poisoned her with lethal doses of mercury, causing a myriad of symptoms—tremors, headaches, muscle weakness, kidney damage, and breathing difficulties. And the deliberate administration of such high doses to turn her hair white revealed their sinister intent from the outset.

Just how much had they fed her? It was evident they had intended to kill her from the start. Anguish and fury surged within him as he vowed to make them pay.

Gently caressing her cold cheek, he leaned in to kiss her unmoving lips, his own trembling against hers. He blamed himself for everything that had transpired. Perhaps if she hadn't been with him, she would have lived a better life—a normal life with a normal man. She wouldn't have to endure such a painful and cruel death.

It was all because of him.

Regret hung heavy in his heart, but dwelling on what could have been served no purpose.

"I'm so sorry, my wife," he whispered, his voice thick with grief. "Just hold on a bit longer, alright? I'll join you soon, but first, I'll make those bastards pay. Wait for me—I won't let you face this alone. Not again."

With resolve hardening in his heart, he retrieved his sword and sheathed it once more before lifting her lifeless form into his arms. Like a man burdened by death itself, he trudged towards the throne room where justice awaited. Kicking the doors open with a forceful thrust of his leg, he was met with a sea of horrified expressions from the ministers and officials. Clearly, they hadn't anticipated the emperor's dramatic entrance, cradling his beloved empress in his arms.

Ignoring their shocked gazes, he strode past them, his eyes fixed on the throne at the far end of the room. With careful tenderness, he laid his wife down upon the ornate seat, arranging her robes and ensuring her comfort as though she were merely sleeping. Pressing a solemn kiss upon her cold forehead, he turned to face the assembled council, their unease palpable in the air.

The guilty culprits remained frozen in their places, uncertain of what awaited them.

As the emperor's gaze swept over them, the ministers and officials for the first time felt a cold shiver of fear trickle down their spines. His expression was unreadable, his appearance wild and dishevelled compared to his usual polished demeanour. Specks of blood and dirt stained his robes and skin, his hair a tangled mess, half tied up in a disarray that mirrored the chaos within him.

Gone was the warm smile that often graced his features; instead, a slow, unsettling grin crept across his face.

"My dearest ministers and officials," he began, his voice low and laced with an eerie calmness. "Your message has been received loud and clear. I hope you're satisfied now that you've succeeded in eradicating the empress, as you so desperately desired. I've given it some thought, and perhaps... you were all right."

The Minister of Rites, attempting to feign nonchalance, cleared his throat. "A-about what, Your Imperial Majesty?" he stammered.

Baekhyun's eyes gleamed with a frightening intensity as he smirked, his demeanour bordering on madness. "About what this nation truly needs," he replied, his voice carrying a chilling edge.

"Not a good emperor, but a mad one."

Without giving the men before him time to register his words, all Baekhyun saw was red. In a split second, he unsheathed his sword and transformed into a bloodthirsty animal, cutting down anyone and everyone in his path. The Minister of Rites tried to flee but to no avail. He watched in complete horror as his colleagues dropped dead one by one, their blood splattering over the grand walls of the throne room, their screams echoing.

The emperor went on a rampage, leaving no man behind. The Minister of Rites, who had been behind the idea of poisoning the empress, smearing her name by labelling her a demon, and executing her, was now filled with regret. They had turned him into the mad king his empress had feared. Perhaps they had finally achieved their goal, but it wasn't what they were prepared for.

The minister collapsed to his knees before the emperor, realising that His Imperial Majesty had saved him for last. Trembling, he rubbed his hands together in a desperate plea. "P-please, everything I've done, it's for the betterment of our nation."

Baekhyun's humourless laughter echoed through the hall, sending shivers down the minister's spine. "You truly believe that, don't you? Of course, that includes subjecting my wife to all that torment. Yes, because that is exactly what the nation needs. Unfortunately for you, I am the emperor, and I determine what's best for the nation. And in this case, I think it's better off without traitors like you. See you on the other side," were the last words the minister heard before his head was severed from his neck, rolling off to join the others on the floor.

The emperor finally turned back, his eyes softening as they landed on his beloved's lifeless body. Making his way back towards her, he knelt down beside her, tears streaming down his face as he reached for her hand. Holding it to his cheek, he missed the warmth it once had.

"I'm coming now, my love," he whispered brokenly. "I'm sorry you had to wait for so long. I'll be there with you soon."

"Yes, I understand His Imperial Majesty's orders not to enter, but it's been hours. Surely, any assembly would have concluded by now, wouldn't it?" With apprehension and curiosity, a senior court lady pushed open the doors to the once-bustling throne room, expecting to find His Imperial Majesty and his council of ministers. Instead, she was met with a horrifying sight—a scene of bloodshed and chaos spread across the grand hall.

Her piercing scream echoed through the silent room, jolting nearby palace staff into action. Rushing to the scene, they were met with a scene that chilled them to the bone. At the end of the room, amidst a sea of lifeless bodies, lay the empress on the throne, her appearance shocking all who beheld it. Beside her, her husband remained, his head cradled on her chest, their hands tightly clasped together. A gaping stab wound marred his chest—it seemed he had taken his own life before joining her in death.

Following that, the next prince in line promptly ascended the throne and found himself compelled to appoint an entirely new cabinet of ministers and officials. The entire nation descended into chaos, particularly since it was still embroiled in a war, with endless theories circulating about the events. While some speculated that the emperor succumbed to madness and killed his own council, others whispered of a conspiracy, suggesting that the ministers had orchestrated the demise of both the empress and the emperor.

Amidst this uncertainty, the new prince faced the daunting challenge of restoring order to the kingdom. With a heavy heart, he pledged to uncover the truth behind the tragic occurrences and ensure that justice was served to those responsible.

In the end, the truth of what truly occurred remained shrouded in mystery. All those involved had departed from the realm of the living. As centuries passed, that chapter in history became known as the Scarlet Requiem, a haunting tale that lingered in the collective memory of the kingdom. Despite countless efforts to unravel the enigma, the events surrounding the tragedy remained obscured by the sands of time, leaving future generations to ponder and speculate about the dark secrets of the past.

"What do you think really happened?" a woman asked her boyfriend as they studied a painting depicting the throne room scene in a museum dedicated to the events of the Scarlet Requiem.

He pondered for a moment before responding with a shrug. "It's hard to say. But judging by the way he's holding onto her, it seems he must have truly loved her. Let's hope they've found peace and happiness, whether in the afterlife or their next life."

She nodded in agreement, leaning into his comforting embrace. "Yeah, I hope so too."

He flashed a mischievous grin. "I'm just saying, if I were him, I wouldn't have left her for war in the first place."

She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful smack, though a smile danced on her lips. "I'm sure you wouldn't. I bet it's because the empress was described as beautiful as a celestial being."

He scoffed. "Doesn't matter to me how pretty she was. I'll stay only if you're my empress."

Unbeknownst to them, the couple had been contemplating their own past lives. Perhaps the emperor and empress had indeed found each other again in another existence.

Believe it or not, this has been on my mind for months ever since seeing those AI-generated photos of Baekhyun. I had an epiphany while looking at them again yesterday and just had to write this. It's my first EXO fic, and I hope it's decent hehe~

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Master Tag list:

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @green-agent @vantediary @tinyteezer |

@hollxe1 @pandabur666 @lilactangerine @oddracha @evidive

#edenesth #exo #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #byun baekhyun #exo baekhyun #historical au #goryeo dynasty #baekhyun x reader #exo fic #baekhyun oneshot #exo oneshot #kpop angst #exo angst #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun angst

221 notes · View notes

inklore · 1 year

Text

home is where you're mine

premise: in nevarro you and din can finally breathe and spend your days christening every surface of your home.

pairing: din djarin x (f)reader

word count: 911

warnings: eighteen+ content, established relationship, riding, unprotected p in v, tiny little taste of possessive!din, domestic life, public-ish encounter, 'etyc' means dirty, 'mesh’la' means beautiful.

note: did i have an absolute panic attack over actually writing in the mando world instead of doing an au? yeah yeah i did, but thanks to my bbys @psychedelic-ink and @pedrito-friskito i got over it and wrote this filth <3.

The skin on Din’s neck feels as hot as your body does. The sun, having gone down hours ago, did little to cool the warm air—the humidity that’s clinging to your body and making sweat gather at your brow and run down your spine as your breath heaves your chest with your ministrations.

There’s an ache in the heel of your foot that you ignore. That does not deserve a second thought, maneuvering around, or changing of position when this one feels too good.

When Din is letting you take control, letting your fingers move to the only skin visible and hold onto it like a lifeline. Like you’d float away from the building pleasure if you didn’t have something, some kind of contact that wasn’t his gloved hand bunching up your dress at the top of your ass so he can grip and pull you down onto his length. The only helping hand he’s giving.

Since the two of you had made—what you hoped was—a permanent home in Nevarro. Until another bounty called Din away, now giving you a place to safely wait for his return. A cabin big enough for the three of you. A space that wasn’t covered in scrap metal and piles of weapons or debris.

You know, in truth, that you’d live under any conditions if it kept Din on your side. The child on your hip or by your feet.

But this place felt special. Like the three of you could finally take a deep breath and let your guard down for half a second without feeling remorseful over it.

The porch had quickly become Din’s favorite spot to relax. To put his feet up and watch the sky, the terrain—Grogu, as he basked in the daylight and played with his food.

Which is where you found him tonight after the child had drifted to sleep and the two of you were alone. The planet seemingly quiet when it knew the two of you needed it. When you leaned against the doorway and Din held out his hand to you. Pulling you into his lap. A calming silence shared between the two of you as you took in the stars.

A moment that seemed too good to pass up. To not continue to take advantage of the space you had been given to have Din inside of you.

No need to sneak around or find a darkened corner.

It’s as if the two of you needed to break in every surface within the new space. Home.

Your cheek pressed into the wall, a counter, a table. Your fingers leaving indents in the fabrics of seats, beds, and blankets. It was only right that you carry on that same streak in Din’s favorite spot.

“Should we-” he began, the shake of your head cutting him off as your hips rocked against him. As he grew the more your sweet whimpers fell, and your fingers danced along the beskar of his chest plate. “Etyc,” his gloved hand coming down to tap at your ass, making you grin.

It didn’t take long for you to free his cock and position him at your entrance. To get yourself this close from the motion of your hips, the angle making the fabrics of his pants rub against your clit with each gyrate. Each time he bucked up into you just a little harder than the last.

You let out a gasp when the warmth of his glove covers one of your breasts. His fingers pull down the—now—flimsy fabric from your shoulder to reveal it to him. To rub his thumb over your nipple in circles that make your moans grow in octaves.

“Mesh’la,” Din groans.

If this were in the darkness of your room, your roles would be reversed. Your vision cut off from him while he saw you in full. Running his mouth along your body. His teeth nipping at your breast until your body was pushing against him for more, to be filled by him.

And if you asked him to take you to your bed right now, he would. Happily. He’d draw out your orgasm by making you fuck his tongue, pulling away when you were at that precipice only to shove his cock inside your trembling walls. Repeating the actions until you’re begging him to let you come.

You have many nights for history to repeat itself, though.

Right now, you’re so close, and the way Din’s hips are moving in tandem with your own lets you know he is too. That neither of you could move even if you truly wanted to because your pleasure is too much. Coming to that crescendo that makes you see a galaxy behind your eyelids when you can feel him twitch against your clenching walls from reaching your climax together.

The gloved hand at your breast trails up the column of your neck, gripping your chin to bring your forehead to the warmth of his helmet before splaying the palm over your mouth. “The sounds you make when you come are just for me.” He grunts, your hips moving in unison one, two, three more times before you’re both coming. Your moans fall into his hand. Caught and absorbed by the fabric as your body clenches and trembles against him. The deep bravado of the groan he tries to bite back shakes your chest as you lay against him. “Mine,” mixed into the jumble of words he spews breathlessly.

#din djarin smut #din djarin x you #pedro pascal smut #din djarin imagine #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin blurb #pedro pascal x you #din djarin x f!reader

2K notes · View notes

paymechildsupport · 2 months

Text

Ryomen Sukuna x Reader // A Troublemaker's Love

@manikosii --> "What do you think about Bully!Sukuna who is madly in love with the reader? I just like the small Sukuna who has known the reader since childhood and does not know how to express his feelings" -.-.- -> hsisikaiss I love this sm :D Kinda made him more of a bully with a soft spot, -- more delinquent than anything, but I absolutely kept your lovestruck lil' Sukuna, so cute <3

-----

> Modern!School!AU

> Bully!Delinquent!Sukuna x Reader

*I made him a biker too,— he’s such a lil’ biker bitch

-!! CW: depictions of violence, (not aimed at Reader), -- smoking [don't actually smoke please, that shit kills you :(]

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

(he's my lil' cutie patootie)

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

———————

Ryomen Sukuna— who from a young age could never really communicate his feelings. Who would push all the other kids off the playground because they were clogging up the slide. Who never once expressed remorse when setting fire to that poor ant colony with his mini magnifying glass. Who was labeled as a “troubled” child. Who skipped grades because he was so freakishly intelligent. Who never had to try in school. Who fell off his Lightning McQueen bike the second he saw you on the playground. He immediately shoved his way through the swarm of other kids, butted his way into your lil’ game of tag, invited himself to play and proceeded to shove your tiny body into the grass, laughing maniacally.

Pissed, you grabbed him by the hair, yanked harshly and threw him down on the ground next to you, — engaging in the most intense wrestling match either you had ever had in your short lives. Stuck in the nurse’s office with his Despicable Me bandaid and getting scolded by every staff member in the school, Sukuna could only stare at you, completely enamored by you and your fiery spirit so akin to his own.

————-

Sukuna would pull up to school everyday on his motorbike, making as much noise possible and spewing exhaust everywhere, just to spite the Environmental Club members who continuously berated him for air pollution.

He didn’t vape— no no, he wasn’t a lil’ pussy bitch. Sukuna was a man, he smoked straight cigars, the kind you’d only ever see your grandpa piping,— and it was disgusting

He’d do it just to annoy you too. When you walk outside for lunch, he’d exhale a rather generous amount of smoke right in your face, earning him a string of curses in response. He’d just smile, chuckle and walk away

Sukuna is a rather intimidating individual, — towering over everyone in a room,- tatted up with the most gorgeous inky designs you’d ever seen. His favorite shirts always revealed a generous amount of his beefy, muscular arms. The thin fabrics clung to his figure, showing clearly defined muscles (and those phat milk jugs hoooooly cow)

He’d be that guy wearing fucking kakis in the middle of winter 💀

Fucking shit his muscular thighs too?? Holy smokes I’m drooling 🤤

Sukuna was always alone, and he preferred things that way. He didn’t have a band of lackeys behind him all the time— though plenty deeply admired him— he didn’t need them anyways to look every bit the tough guy delinquent who was unafraid to get physical.

—- and he was physical. Like, he was always finding his way into a fight,— and always came out on top. Starting something with this guy was a death wish. Everyone in the school knew who he was, and everyone in the school— including the teachers — respected him out of fear

He never picked on anyone who’d be considered an “easy target”. No no, that’d be way too easy. Where’s the fun in that? Nah, he goes straight for the person on top— the cockier the better. He’s more than happy to beat up a fellow delinquent

You, however, seem to catch his eye in particular. So fiery, so fierce,— you take everything he throws at you and chuck it right back at him. There’s a deep sentiment of respect between the two of you, underneath all the petty arguments and crude insults

He never hangs out with anyone, but Sukuna loves to spend his time tailing you wherever you go, teasing and nagging every step of the way. He nitpicks everything you do, whether it be simply reading a book, talking to a peer, or even just eating. He’s always there, always watching your every move.

You’d be talking with a friend, discussing plans for the weekend, when all of a sudden pure horror etched itself onto their face, a massive shadow looming over the two of you. Confused, you swivel around, face almost colliding with Sukuna’s chest. He looked down on you, a shit eating grin on his face. Your friend only slightly stammers a “gotta go see ya later” before making a run for it, (you really couldn’t blame them, Sukuna really was a weirdo sometimes).

He likes to scare everyone who approaches you, making them run off practically screaming

For all the verbal grief he gives you, for all the times he’s called you a “brat” and told you how “annoying” and “unbearable” you are, Sukuna absolutely blows up the second he sees some other bastard berating you.

One time, Mahito and his creepy lil’ gang of goonies thought it’d be funny to corner you after school. Laughing, they mocked you, turning almost borderline physical as they made an effort to manhandle you into a locker.

Sukuna was livid, saw shit going down and immediately rushed to the scene, coming up behind Mahito and giving him the gnarliest death stare you’ve ever seen,— crimson eyes practically burning with barely restrained fury. Mahito pissed himself on the spot immediately, — and was lucky he even made it out alive that day.

Sukuna grabbed the goon that had reached out to touch you, twisted his arm, and smashed his head in on the locker door.

Then after school he almost “accidentally” plowed them all down with his bike 😞

Needless to say, no one ever gave you trouble ever again— minus Sukuna, of course

He just wants you all to himself,— is that so wrong? He wants that raging passion in your eyes to be reserved for him and only him. He loves seeing you all pent up, face red and scrunched up in anger. That delicious heat in the center of his stomach threatened to boil over every time he laid his eyes on you. Sukuna was down bad. The beefy, all scary delinquent was smitten, — he of all people had a big, fat crush. He never wanted you to look at anyone the way you looked at him. He’d beat their head in, then you’d have to look at him

Shotgunning- this guy absolutely loves inhaling the smoke from his cigar, grabbing and yanking you close just so he could exhale it down your windpipe. Lips lightly brushing, sometimes he’d stick his tongue in, just to taste the smoke in your mouth. He adores the way his smoke and saliva mixes with your own, especially loving it when he kisses you stupid, drool pooling in the corner of your mouth, all for him to lick away

Sukuna would mark you up good. Even if they don’t know who, everyone knows you're taken with the way hickeys adorn your pretty little neck. He loves your neck, loves biting into the soft, pulsating flesh and leaving his bite marks all around. —Same with your shoulder, anywhere that isn’t covered by clothing he makes sure is branded

He delights in the way you grab him by the strap of his tank top, pulling him into whatever unoccupied room is available: janitor’s closet, a closed bathroom, the locker rooms- anywhere. You’d kiss him silly, hands gripping at his tough, muscular thighs, your nails digging into the hard flesh. Your fingers tracing over his slutty thigh tattoos always had him going feral. He loved the aftertaste of your chapstick / lipgloss on his tongue, there still even hours after you’d make out 💋 😋

Sukuna was in absolute heaven on those rare occasions you’d both stay after class. Empty classroom, blind drawn and door locked as you’d get down on your knees and suck his cock. Your pretty lips wrapped around him always had him coming quick. You’d swallow him whole, throat bobbing from his spurting cum. He’d bend down afterwards— feeling like he’d die otherwise— and kiss you sloppily on the lips, licking away his cum from the corner of your mouth, groaning at the taste of himself.

His breasts are so sensitive, all you’d have to do is just swirl your tongue around a nipple and he’s puddy in your arms. You loved his breasts, cooing about his “man boobs” just to see him turn a brilliant red to match his crimson eyes.

His big digits always did wonders to your body, rubbing small, purposeful circles into your pulsating heat / hard on,— sometimes right in the middle of class, just to fuck with you. Your glassy-eyed glare while you fought to bite your lip always had him hardening within his pants. He really couldn’t get enough of you.

Yeah, you were stuck with Ryomen Sukuna and his merciless teasing. Was it all that bad?— No, no, not at all. Were you complaining? — absolutely not. (At least he had some nice phat jugs for you to fondle).

He loved you too much to stop his cruel words and affectionate touches,— and he was going to make sure you stayed right beside him,— exactly where you belong.

————

A/N: i love him and i'd die for him

259 notes · View notes

muzansfangs · 1 month

Note

hii ogm!! i'm loving the drink event and can't wait to see more stories! i wanted to request a manhattan with muzan (fem reader) where muzan is a politican, similar to in Kimetsu Academia where hes a politican!

sorry if i wasn't being to direct!

feel free to deny the request etc and have a great day! <3

The grass is greener on the other side.

Starring: Muzan Kibutsuji x f!reader;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, age gap between Muzan and the reader but the reader is 21, corruption kink, anal sex, modern au, unprotected sex, mention to reader stretching herself out before the encounter, pet names, slight degradation, use of handcuffs;

Plot: You knew only one thing for sure and thus was that Muzan Kibutsuji was your father’s rival. With the incoming election day, you were busy running errands for your father, when you found yourself face to face with the devil himself. From that infamous night, you always found yourself tangled into the silky bedsheets of Muzan’s bed, allowing him to strip you off of your sense of self-preservation, dignity and purity with every secret meeting.

Drink chosen: MANHATTAN (anal sex, corruption kink, handcuffs, shy reader);

MASTERLIST FOR THE EVENT | RULES FOR THE EVENT

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

"Dad, I can't make it to the conference in time. My flight got cancelled. I'll take the next one in the morning" you blatantly lied to your father, eyes staring at the golden number decorating the white door of the hotel room you were supposed to meet the reason of your little defection at.

It was not the first time you abandoned your duty as the daughter of a man running for becoming the next Prime Minister to follow your lecherous whims. You felt ashamed of yourself, when this started. You were not that kind of girl, but this man had clearly brought out the worst in you, convincing you it was perfectly fine to fight for what you wanted. To be a little selfish was essential to live without regrets.

Even if your choices would have hurt and disappointed the ones you loved.

But if they did not know about your whereabous, they would have not suffered, right? Therefore, here you were, telling lies to the man who raised you, spoiled you and treated you like a princess since the day you were born. All of this for the sake of a secret affair with his younger rival, the very man he was competing with to conquer the hearts of the electors.

“Don’t worry, honey! You have already done so much for me. — your father reassured you from the other side of the phone, causing your stomach to clench as the remorse ate you from the inside out — You will attend the next one” he exclaimed confidently, while you fluttered your eyes close and nodded your head mournfully. If only he knew where you were, if only he saw you now, wearing that scanty dress to please Kibutsuji, he would have undoubtedly watched his perfect little girl turn into a stranger, a backstabber deserving nothing but vituperation.

“I’m sorry, dad. For real. I’ll be rooting for you anyway” you said with a tinge of sorrow in your voice, right before knocking on the door and hearing the sound of footsteps approaching it from the other side.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know you will. I really have to go now! Take care” your father said then, right when two piercing red eyes locked with yours on the threshold of the hotel room you deemed as nothing more than the Gates of Hell.

Your breath was suddenly stuck in your throat and you barely forced yourself to end the call with a “Bye, dad” before Muzan snorted and stepped aside to invite you in. He was visibly displeased at the sweet way you had whispered the epithet rightfully reserved to the man you shared the same blood with.

He hated the fact that you were his daughter and, if he had to be honest with himself, he had decided to lure you in his den to get back at him. At least, at first. Horrified at the idea of growing attached to you, something that had inevitably already happened, he tried to act distant, but you constantly made it hard to let him consider you nothing more than a cheap harlot. Why? Those eyes of yours, your shyness, were endearing to say the least.

“You can’t stay away from me, can you?” he mocked you, closing the door behind you and watching as you kept your eyes transfixed on the polished marble floor under your shoes.

“I wish I could. It’s not that simple” you whispered, shrugging your coat off of your shoulders and abent-mindedly hooking it on the clothes hanger.

The moment your voluptuary curves were exposed to his gaze, you felt it. Shivers ran down your spine, while you did not dare to turn around and face him. It was unncessary, anyway. He walked stauntered towards you like a predator, his hands searching for yours as he pressed you against the wall. His cologne intoxicated you, while his hot breath fanned the shell of your ear in a scandalous way that made your thighs squeeze together. Planting your palms to the wall before you, he intertwined yours fingrs and nuzzled your cheek with his pointy nose.

“I think it’s true what they say. The things we love are frequently the ones that destroy us” he murmured in your ear, his lips tracing your jawline hazardously.

No matter how many times you had crumbled at his feet, granted him the chance to break you down and build you up again, his touch left you always in a haze. Your cheeks heated up, a knot between your eyebrows, as you tried to hide your face from him. If only you could understand how much that tender trait of your personality drove him nuts.

“Don’t hide from me” he stated, surprisingly tenderly as he reached his hand up to wrap it on the back of your neck.

His grip was secure, when he forced you to crane your neck to meet his gaze. His lips captured yours shamelessly, hungrily, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lap at your parted lips and enter your mouth with the same confidence he held when he walked on a stage. Arrogant and unhinged, demanding and never coy he snaked his arm around your waist to make sure your back was flattened against his firm body. Timid moans fell from your lips, sounds he galdly swallowed, whilst leading you towards the king-sized bed at his back.

Lifting your lids to peer up at him, you hesitantly turned around to be face to face with him and your hand cupped his smooth cheek to run your thumb over his cheekbone. Theoughout the time you two had spent together, you had learned to read his body language. He never gave you the chance to be the master of your sea, but he did not disdain small attentions that oulked the strings of his heart. He had almost given you the impression he was touch-starved, as a dog who had been forced to just bark and growl all of his life and showing off his sharp fangs to keep potential threats at bay.

Muzan had barely opened up with you about his past and personal life. All that he asked of you was someone to keep his bed warm at night, even if you had to crawl into the darkness with him to quench his thirst for you.

You kissed him again, slowly, making sure your bodies were pressed up, that not an inch stood between you two. He reciprocated your attention, careful to remark how you were merely able to take the initiative because he had reluctantly allowed you to. You would have never forgotten it anyway. Not when his hands unceremoniously tugged the straps of your dress down your shoulders and proceeded in ripping it apart. You gasped, the sound of the garment coming apart at the seams making you knee buckle.

Muzan flicked his gaze up, tugging the ruined item down your curves to expose your body to him. The way you bit onto your lower lip nervously, still striving to avoid his plum red eyes made him want to ruin you over and over again. Every single time you two met, Muzan stripped you off of things he had yet to touch. Today was not an exception.

“What? Are you sulking over that dress? – he taunted you, quirking a dark eyebrow up before unbuckling his belt hastily – Ask your dad to buy you a new one. After all, he would be ecstatic to shower you in gifts” he bitterly commented, discarding the leather item onto the floor and shoving you down onto the bed by pushing onto your midriff.

His cold touch made your skin sizzle and your mouth went dry, when you lifted yourself up on your elbows, watching him stride to his suitcase and delving his hand into it, rummaging to draw something out.

“Or you wish it was me the one who sent gifts to you, huh? I bet you do. But, mon chéri, you know your dad would toss them into the bin. Therefore, I am forced to give you something else. Something your dad cannot see” he bantered again, his words sounding like a dagger in your heart, words representing the lyrics to the melody played by some metallic object clinking in his hands.

With your heart thrumming into your chest, you let your eyes wander to figure out the source of the chiming only to feel your breath hitch in your throat, when you found out they were shiny handcuffs. The look on your face spoke volumes, your body shuddering in anticipation as you kept on switching your focus from the object dangling from his index and his face.

Mischief twinkled in his eyes, watching in delight as you shifted your position on the bed in sheer desire and pure terror of exploring your tastes, terrorized to find out that you were probably as deranged as he was.

“You are noxious to me. You’ve poisoned me. I should not be here and let you mess me up” you uttered, sitting in a kneeling position on the snow-white sheets of the bed.

Muzan grinned and grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, face dangerously close to yours as he grinned at your face “Then why are you here? Why are you not in the crowd rooting for you daddy, huh? You’re royally screwing up, darling” he cooed, forcing you to lay face down on the bed.

With your cheek pressed against the rose-scented blankets, you chewed on the inside of your cheeks in a spiral of self-deprecation. He was right. You had deliberately chosen to follow him that infamous night and, much to your dismay, the following ones. It was all on you and your greedy heart, hypothetically assuming you still had one in your chest.

Muzan climbed on the bed behind you, his hands reaching for your wrists and pinning them togther behind your bed as he slapped the cuffs around them, factually preventing you from moving your arms freely.

“Have you done what I had asked of you?” he then inquired, hands already slipping underneath the waistband of your thong and dragging the thin item down your thigh.

“Yes, I did” you whispered, ashamed of yourself as he hummed in return.

The things you had done for him, things that had not even crossed your still innocent mind made you want to rip yourself apart. But how? How could you blame yourself for wanting him?

“Splendid. — Muzan chimed, reaching for something behind him on nightstand — Just relax. Look, I’ll let you see your beloved daddy while I fuck you up, alright?” he sarcastically taunted you, as you began to put the dots together. The remoter, he had grabbed the remoter. He remembered the exact hour your dad was supposed to speak to the Country.

Sweat beaded your forehead as you squirmed underneath him, a hoarse chuckle rambling from somewhere deep into his chest as the screen of the tv projected the smiling, proud face of your father. His eyes seemed to bore right into yours as Muzan fumbled behind you with his pants and grasped your hips into his calloused hands.

“Ah, look at him. My rival has a good taste in neckties. Where does he buy them? Marinella? Those are surely italian-coded” the raven-haired man behind you noted, deliviring another unfathomable kick in your guts.

“You are a bastard” you whispered, eyes widening as he pressed the girthy tip of his cock against your puckered hole. The stretch left you breathless, eyes watering in the process. Frankly, seeing the face of your father partially blurry was far way better than having a clear vision.

While Muzan grunted, makinf sure you could feel every inch of his cock dilating you, the words your dad said made you choke out an uncontrollable sob.

“My sweet daughter could not be by my side today. Her presence is a blessing. Hopefully, she’s now somewhere out there to bless someone else’s day. I love you, sweetheart!” your father said and there was a burst of applause to echo throughout the room.

Wincing softly in pain, hips rotating to accomodate to the intrusion in your most private area, you had to endure the way Muzan sneered and began to rhythmically thrust into you, a crazed expression on his face as he pounded into you without much care of your condition “Oh, you have no idea. Her ass is a fucking blessing, sir” he mocked your father, earning a stifle moan from you.

You wished you could space out, but it was impossible. The stimulation you were receiving was driving you mad. The pain gradually subsided, causing a series of unbridled moans to erupt from your throat. Drool was running down the angle of your mouth, back arching convulsively, as you heard every words your father said and felt every comment Muzan made.

“Fuck… Nah, I’m going to have to send my regards to your father, kitten. — he rasped out, giving you one last thrust, before pulling out with a groan and releasing onto the small of your back — After all, I’m going to steal his lucky charm from him, once I beat him” he whispered after a few seconds.

Trembling, astonished, you closed your eyes and laid there with a drained expression on your face. Muzan Kibutsuji was going to be the death of you.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! The third request for my event is done! Honestly, I hope you’ve enjoyed this one as much as I did. Why? Guys, come on, it reflects my main story “Guilty pleasure”. I felt like I had deprived you of ‘Politician Muzan’ for way too long not to write this one as soon as possible. Now, likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

Until next,

X O X O

TAGS: @doumadono @axesfordays @tomorika-pura @cursetopia @the-dark-creature @yazzzmints

#muzan x reader #muzan x you #muzan smut #muzan kibutsuji x reader #kibutsuji muzan x reader #muzan x y/n #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #kny smut #muzan kibutsuji

201 notes · View notes