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itsclydebitches · 5 years

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Hey Clyde! Love your reviews on RWBY. My question is about Ozpin. If he survived fighting Cinder, would the events of volume 4-6 still happen? I believe the only reason team RWBYJNR treated Ozpin that way was because he was with Oscar who basically looked like a kid to them. However, if he was still in his adult body, would they have been more respectful?

Hi, anon! Thank you! I’m actually super glad you asked this. I’ve touched on how Oscar’s age and looks have impacted how others perceive Ozpin a bit in other asks, but haven’t had the chance to compose a substantial meta about it. I will attempt to fix that here!

FYI, it’ll get decently image heavy from here on out.

First, as a general response to the question of whether the events of Volumes 4-6 would have changed if Ozpin had survived: absolutely. If only because Ozpin as a figurehead would have still been around to lead both his inner circle and function as a symbol of strength for the rest of the world. Unless he was completely incapacitated from the fight or something (like in a coma), the expectation is that Ozpin would have begun rebuilding his school. Glynda wouldn’t have been left alone to try and deal with a frozen Wyvern attracting grimm. Ironwood wouldn’t have been left to figure out where to go from here. Qrow wouldn’t have been sent on a mission to return Ozpin’s cane. The whole world (including Atlas) may have been less likely to panic with Ozpin there to provide perspective and support. Lionheart presumably would have been less inclined to betray him, at least so soon and so overtly. An Ozpin who will reincarnate at some unknown point is a future Lionheart problem, and therefore far less intimidating. An Ozpin who still lives and commands his inner circle is way more of a threat and Lionheart would be more likely to get caught. Remember that even Salem was surprised by how quickly Ozpin reincarnated and dove back into the game—all the baddies were banking on more time. So yes, a ton would have changed. The group’s focus is now more along the lines of, “So is Ozpin going to fix things and can we go back to school?” and less, “Ozpin is dead as a door nail and no one is able to fix things for us. Might as well go hunt Cinder ourselves.”

But onto the meat of the ask. Is the group treating Ozpin like they are at least partly because he’s in the body of a kid? That’s also a resounding ‘yes.’ Human beings, including the humans and the faunus that we write in fiction, are incredibly judgmental (for better and for worse) based on how someone else looks. If you’re able to see then you tend to prioritize that information over other aspects of a person. We create markers that we then learn and assume mean something when, much of the time, they don’t. Or, to put it another way, we create stereotypes. We can think about this in terms of gender presentation: a masculine-looking person giving orders is seen as the “boss” whereas a feminine-looking person giving orders is seen as a “bitch.” We can complicate that with race: we’re more likely to view a white woman giving orders as “assertive” when compared to a black man giving orders. That’s “aggressive.” From giving a girl long blonde hair when you want to cue people into the fact that she’s (supposedly) dumb, to making a man skinny when you want him to seem vulnerable, our media is chock-full of those markers, subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) encouraging us to read characters in particular ways. There’s a reason that Yang, the go-getter, is blonde whereas Blake, the bookworm, has black hair. There’s a reason that Cardin wasn’t designed as a twig and Jaune is a couple inches shorter than him. There’s even a reason why the sap the group collects is red rather than, say, yellow, orange, blue—literally any other color. Only red sap makes it look like Cardin is covered in blood when he attacks Jaune, thus increasing how much we read him as a threat. The characters’ designs matter.

What does all that have to do with Ozpin? Well, at the start of the series his markers all point to authority and wisdom. He’s a white man, for one. He dresses in a formal suit. There are nods towards his age (a cane, white hair) that tell us, despite his baby face, that he’s someone who has been around a while and thus has a great deal of experience to draw on. He’s also, significantly, tall. Take a look at how his talks with Ruby read visually.

Ruby is incredibly small compared to Ozpin. He towers above her and she’s constantly in a position of looking up to him, mirroring the ways in which she figuratively looks up to him for advice. Her mannerisms are also younger and don’t carry much confidence. Crossing her arms and sulking. Wringing her hands while asking if she’s made a mistake. The way Ruby moves contrasts Ozpin’s own very still, very composed mannerisms. Body language and facial expression is one of the primary ways that we communicate and the slightest change can carry a world of meaning. For example, compare these two shots of Yang from Volume 1 and Volume 6:

On the surface they appear quite similar, but provided there isn’t something impacting how we read these moments (such as some people with autism), we learn that these poses mean two very different things. Two hands on your waist is a relaxed pose; one hand on your waist is an arrogant pose. At least when combined with an angry expression. One arm, the placement of her eyebrows, and suddenly Yang’s attitude towards Ozpin has radically changed. We went from casual respect to defiance, and most viewers wouldn’t need to know anything else about RWBY’s story to read that here. Her body language alone tells the story.

Ozpin’s body language with Ruby then cues the viewer into the fact that he (supposedly) has the answers here, simply by virtue of him exuding a confidence that Ruby doesn’t possess yet. Who do you look to in a bad situation? The person screaming and running around in panic? Or the person who calmly announces that they can help, getting everyone else to calm down by keeping calm themselves? This sort of characterization is partly why the fandom grew suspicious of Ozpin early on. It’s not simply that he (on the surface) is modeled after the shady authority figure trope, but that we’ve learned from real life experience that a person’s ability to keep calm and speak eloquently doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re right. Sounding authoritative is a skill and it’s why the likes of cult leaders and dictators are so dangerous. If you just sound and look like you know what you’re doing, people have a tendency to believe you. And if you’re inclined towards critical thinking, you might be wary of the person whose demeanor is a little too polished.

Even when Ozpin is being playful he maintains a certain level of dignity. His clothes, his physical looks, and the controlled movement of the mug—he’s not jumping around like Nora might—all remind us that Ozpin is the headmaster here and thus, though he’s making silly jokes about popcorn right now, he deserves a certain amount of respect. Even his posture speaks volumes, one arm still tucked behind his back and shoulders ramrod straight. It’s a posture that speaks of training and discipline. There’s a reason that the general (Ironwood) is always animated as standing tall with hands neatly folded and the presumably less dependable drunk (Qrow) is animated with a constantly hunched posture. How Ozpin stands is a quick and easy way to tell the viewer, “This guy is in charge. He’s powerful. He’s wise. You can rely on him.”

All of this changes dramatically once Ozpin is thrown into Oscar’s body. Moving chronologically, it’s significant that the group is not introduced to this new Ozpin as a dignified individual.

This is what we get later. Note the crossed legs, still good posture, even the ‘adult’ way he holds a mug. In contrast, someone younger and more childish in terms of their personality, like Ruby, tends to hold a drink with two hands and chucks it all back in a manner that would never fly at a dinner party.

Rather than a dignified Ozpin knocking at the door, the group first encounters Oscar, someone who, like Volume 1 Ruby, can be incredibly timid and lacks in self-confidence. This isn’t the body language of a leader arriving to provide you with all the answers.

Oscar’s slouched posture, downward gaze, wringing hands, and fearful expression all paint him as the weak one here. Made worse by the fact that he asks to see Ruby and ignites (an entirely understandable) suspicion in the group. Their first interaction is characterized by perceiving him as both a potential threat, but also one they can easily handle. We don’t like that he’s asking about Ruby, but we can take him in a fight no problem.

And yes, this first impression makes a difference. Knowing something about someone on an intellectual level usually doesn’t trump the emotional response we have to the physical markers we’re faced with. As a non-RWBY example, let’s say you were introduced to these two characters.

Ignoring for a moment that we’re comparing a villain and a hero, let’s say for the sake of argument that you’re told—and are provided proof—that each of these characters are morally sound, powerful adults and you should afford them with the respect they deserve. Being told that simply can’t outweigh what we see. Who are you more likely to respect? The woman who looks like a literal child named Baby Doll in a cutesy outfit, or the very old looking man in badass robes, literally named the Ancient One? All the, “But I am an adult” in the world isn’t going to convince people to read, and therefore respond to, Baby Doll in the same way they would the Ancient One.

That’s the situation Ozpin is in now. He’s told the group that he’s Ozpin, he’s managed to prove it, but there’s always going to be a part of Ruby and the gang that doesn’t quite believe it. Not in Jaune’s literal sense of, ‘He could be lying about who he is,’ but just in a more instinctual, ‘He says he’s our headmaster, but all I see is a fourteen year old kid.’ What you see makes it really easy to ignore what you know, particularly when those two things contrast. Those markers Oscar brings to this new version of Ozpin are simply too influential and yes, that opens the door for the group to treat him with far less respect than they would in his adult form. We see it right from the start when, despite having been told that this is also Ozpin, the group coos over him in an overbearing, disrespectful manner.

This continues even after Ozpin has taken control and is doing everything he can (those dignity markers) to regain some level of trust and respect. Even while seated and attempting to command the room as Headmaster Ozpin, Nora nevertheless undermines that with “Cute little boy Ozpin!” She has chosen to emphasize his looks over his status and notably no one listens when he says, “Please don’t call me that.”

Ozpin has, in this moment, literally been labeled as a child. A “boy.” Though we can’t be sure about what age all his hosts were when Ozpin arrived, based on Jinn’s vision it doesn’t look as if reincarnating into teenagers is common. This may even be the first time.

Any of these past reincarnations would have been able to command more authority, simply because they’re adult men not dressed in dirty farm clothes. If this Ozpin had shown up in Haven,

we would have gotten a very different volume. Age matters. How we perceive age matters. We saw this right in RWBY’s second episode wherein Weiss calls Ruby out on attending Beacon.

It’s Ruby’s looks and Ruby’s looks alone that encourage Weiss to come to the conclusion, ‘You shouldn’t be here.’ The same thing has now happened to Ozpin. You look younger than us and are inhabiting a body that physically couldn’t beat us in a fight? You shouldn’t be here. You definitely shouldn’t be giving us orders.

The group had control of Ozpin’s safe house. They were poised to interrogate him for showing up at it unannounced. Now they emphasize Oscar’s age and characteristics over his, which is ironically the only time that they emphasize Oscar’s individuality over Ozpin’s. In short, they’ve created an environment where a part of them truly believes that they’re older and more knowledgeable simply because of how Ozpin now looks, even though technically they know this isn’t true. It’s a new dynamic and with that comes the confidence to treat him like the fourteen year old stranger he “is”. I don’t believe for a moment that Yang would have ignored Ozpin’s direct questions, shot out irrational accusations, and then demanded a promise from him if he still looked the way he did at Beacon. Especially as someone who came to Haven later and therefore missed the initial proof, Yang simply doesn’t read Ozpin as Ozpin. We’ve seen how other characters interact with him from a student-teacher dynamic and it’s far more respectful.

As this shot demonstrates, there’s also that issue of Ozpin’s size. Where as a headmaster Ozpin commanded authority by being taller than almost everyone else around him, Ozpin as Oscar immediately loses authority by being the smallest in the room. As I mentioned with Jaune and Cardin, size is an easy way to emphasize vulnerability. We quite literally couldn’t have gotten this scene if Ozpin was still 6'6" and looking twice Jaune’s age.

In this scene Jaune honestly thinks this might be Ozpin. He’s accusing him of lying again, of claiming to leave when really he’s spying on them, or just pretending to be this kid called ‘Oscar,’ whatever. The point is that Jaune is working under the assumption that he’s interacting with his headmaster, yet that knowledge obviously doesn’t give him pause. Because Ozpin’s new look outweighs everything else Jaune knows about him. He’s angry and now suddenly Ozpin isn’t an intimidating huntsmen capable of defending himself, Ozpin is a teeny-tiny kid with no training. Jaune becomes Cardin through the realization of, “Oh. If I’m bigger and more powerful than this person, I can do whatever I want to them.”

Ozpin’s size is an ongoing reminder that, despite possessing his own skill as well as magic, he’s in a vulnerable position. He needs to stand on the furniture in order to recreate his students literally and figuratively looking up to him, but now it just reads as a joke.

This isn’t the first time RWBY has used size this way. Cordovin is an excellent example of how a small, non-dignified looking person is unable to maintain authority in the way someone with another appearance might. Her white hair just makes her look old rather than wise and her short stature is so extreme that it invites humor. It’s not just that Cordovin is a racist, or that her guards act like Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Her appearance immediately gave the group another excuse for why they shouldn’t listen to her. Look at this tiny old woman trying to tell us what to do. Yeah right, lady. We could probably punt you into the sun so step aside.

This is a look that makes guards release prisoners in three seconds flat.

This is a look that encourages laughter and, by extension, a lack of respect.

The extreme camera angle in order to make Cordovin look ‘imposing.’ The fact that she looks like a literal child next to Weiss… none of it encourages the group, or the audience, to take her seriously. Rooster Teeth made a conscious decision when they decided to animate Volume 6′s “bad guy” as an old woman with sagging breasts and an extremely small stature.

The only time when someone that small is re-characterized as authoritative is when they’re standing up against unimaginable odds.

Ignoring that this scene in reality is Ruby refusing to take responsibility for the crimes she is currently committing, what Rooster Teen wants this shot to do is function as an example of extreme heroism. That’s accomplished by taking our second smallest character and situating her in front of a larger-than-life mech. Ruby’s refusal to back down in the face of something so much bigger than her is (again) supposed to be inspiring. She’s standing up to Cordovin’s “bullying” in a way Oscar was unable to do with his own mech: a bigger and more threatening Jaune.

(I really cannot express how awful Volume Six was wow).

All of which brings me to my final point. Namely that, by virtue of his age and size, Ozpin as Oscar will always look ridiculous when attempting to make use of his former markers. Using a cane?

Headmaster Ozpin’s age and height makes it look distinguished. Ozpin at Oscar’s age and height makes it look silly. What’s the fourteen year old doing with a cane nearly as tall as he is? (Acknowledging that this is an ableist assumption. Some fourteen year olds do need canes, but most viewers are going to question this in a way they never would with the white-haired adult). What’s the kid doing with such a fancy looking cane when he’s literally covered in dirt, bandages, rags, and badly mended clothes? That’s a silly contrast.

Headmaster Ozpin fighting? Totally badass. One of the shortest and yet most talked about fights in the show.

Ozpin as Oscar fighting? Still badass… if you’re willing to work for it a bit more. But really, the kid swinging a cane around just will never have the same feel as a grown man who looked like Ozpin did.

Ozpin himself is a dignified person, but anytime he adopts those mannerisms now he looks silly at best, arrogant at worst.

I think his look is largely why so many fans read the snow scene as him talking down to the group. He no more talked down to them here then he did when he conversed with Ruby, or Pyrrha, or the team while heading off to Mountain Glenn. The only difference is that the previous Ozpin commanded all that authority, so his warnings and criticisms held weight. This Ozpin not only doesn’t look the part of an authority figure, half his time is spent being Oscar, someone who defers to and scurries around the rest of the group. So when Ozpin tries to take charge here, everyone is far less willing to listen. People are inclined to read him as arrogant, patronizing, talking down to others, etc. because it looks like a small child giving orders to a more older, more powerful team. Even though it’s not.

It’s the combination of everything above that leads to moments like this. Where Ozpin is smaller, more vulnerable, looks too young, too naive, where the group towers over him for once and hurts him both physically and emotionally because now they can.

Tl;dr: Yeah. Oscar’s looks and Oscar’s personality changed things irrevocably. If Ozpin had still looked like Ozpin the group wouldn’t feel half as entitled to this behavior and gaining their respect—from ‘Please don’t address me like that’ to ‘Please understand why I kept secrets’—would be far, far easier.

#Anonymous #rwby #ozpin #mymetas

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exosmutxoxo · 8 years

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Dangerous Woman (Part 5) 🌙

A/N: Oh my god, this turned out longer than I expected it to. All I can say is good luck and have a new set of panties ready. Have fun, you smutty babies.

Pairing(s): Chanyeol x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, heavy sex, bondage, blindfolds, orgasm denial, degradation, anal sex, asshole Chanyeol, daddy kink

Requested: No

Summary: (Y/N) might be addicted to someone. And that someone isn’t Luhan.

Word Count: 8237

Soundtrack: Criminal // Britney Spears

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | PART 5

When I finally come to my senses and pry my welded eyelids open, the first thing my brain registers is the dull throbbing of my jaw, followed by the fact that my entire body has stiffened to the point of no return.

I’m lying on my side, my cheek pressed against a soft surface. Upon moving my arms, I realize that my hands are bounded behind my back tightly, the coarse material of rope digging into the tender skin of my wrists. The same goes for my legs, my sneaker-clad feet tied together and preventing me from squirming around too much.

That’s when the panic kicks in and I struggle to an upright position, bumping my head against the low ceiling. Now that I’m sitting up, I can see that I’m in a small car that seems to be racing a hundred miles per minute.

The driver catches my eye in the rear-view mirror, a smirk crossing his lips and terror courses through my veins at the familiar face.

“C-Chanyeol?” I stammer, dimly wondering if I’m hallucinating and whether or not this is some mad dream which I will soon wake up from if I pinch myself hard enough. But you see, it’s a little hard to give myself a pinch when my fucking hands and legs are all bounded up and the housekeeper of Asia’s most notorious drug lord is acting like some Formula One driver and tearing down the road without taking his foot off the damn accelerator.

“Had a good sleep, princess?” Chanyeol croons in a sickly sweet voice, sending shudders down my spine. “Guess I really knocked you out good and proper”.

“What the fuck is going on? Where are you taking me? Why am I all tied up? Where’s Lu?”

All I get in response to my rapid-fire questions is a mere chuckle. “Relax, sweetheart. No need to get all panicky. I’m not going anywhere, so save your questions for later”.

I explode at that, kicking the back of the driver’s seat with my bound feet furiously. “Don’t tell me to relax, you prick”, I spit venomously. “You knock me unconscious, tie me up and drive me out to the middle of nowhere and you have the nerve to tell me to fucking relax? What the hell do you take me for? Where are we going? Where’s my cat?”

He scoffs at me, never taking his eyes off the road. “I can’t believe you still give a shit about that fleabag of yours when you’re being kidnapped. God, you’re lousy at prioritizing, you know that? Here you are, with the possibility of being dumped in a ditch or much worse and all you can whine about is that pussy of yours”.

I open my mouth, ready with a harsh retort but Chanyeol cuts me off with a chuckle of his own. “Unless”, he smirks, “we’re talking about an entirely different pussy. Then I can safely say that you have the right to whine, considering the fact that nobody is fucking your brains out right now. Based on what I know, you’re someone who can’t go a day without having that whore pussy of yours fucked good and proper, am I right, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?”

Everything around me seems to freeze and come to a standstill, my insides turning to ice. His words leave my numb brain reeling and I’m caught between impulsive defensiveness and hollow sadness at the truth of his crude yet honest statement.

“H-How did you know my last name?” I ask stupidly, feeling like I’ve been cornered like a vulnerable animal. “And how did you know what I do for a profession?”

Chanyeol sneers at my reflection in the rear-view mirror and as handsome as he is, I’ve never seen an uglier person until I caught sight of his malicious expression. “Profession?” He hisses. “You call your whore job a profession? Look at yourself, (Y/N). You’ve been fucked over endlessly by countless number of men just for money’s sake and you can still call yourself a professional? If you ask me, there’s nothing professional about shacking up with the most infamous drug trafficker in Asia”.

“Well, I never asked”, I shoot back hotly, my temper replacing my earlier shame. “Your opinion was never wanted in the first place so you can shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. And as far as Luhan and I are concerned, what goes on between us behind closed doors is none of your business”.

“Oh, but it is”. Chanyeol turns his head a fraction to grin at me in the backseat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “It is especially my business when I use your relationship with him to bring down the whole of Lu Corporations”.

Horror bleeds through every inch of me at the drop of this bombshell. As much as I would like to convince myself that I’m no good for Luhan and vice versa, that we’re too different to be together, that I’m more suited to fulfil his sexual needs rather than to be his lover, I would walk to the ends of the earth to protect his business from crumbling. I’ve known him for a sufficient amount of time to gain the knowledge that he shed blood, sweat and tears just for Lu Corporations to rise to the top. And he did everything all by himself, he built it from scratch with his bare hands and he basked in the wealth he earned for his hard work.

Even if I’m ever faced with the situation where I’ll never be able to see him again, all I want is the reassurance that Lu Corporations is secured of its stability and top-notch position in the drug trafficking market. Because Luhan worked too hard for everything to crumble to ash at his feet. And over my dead body is Chanyeol going to do anything to ruin it all.

“You wouldn’t do that”, I say shakily. “Why would you? You’re his housekeeper. What has Luhan done to you that made you want to bring down his entire company?”

“Done to me?” Chanyeol repeats incredulously. “Oh sweetheart, he hasn’t done anything to me. If anything, it’s what he’s done to the ones I love. Let me ask you something, (Y/N). Do you have any idea why I’m his housekeeper in the first place?”

I shake my head mutely.

“Because”, he says, “I had no other choice. My father used to be a good associate to Lu Corporations three years ago and he earned good money for it. Until he got caught trying to hack into the company’s files in an attempt to bring down the entire company and to make matters worse, it was discovered that he had been stealing from under Luhan’s nose the entire time. When Luhan found out everything, he fired my dad on the spot and threw him out on the street”.

Chanyeol pauses to take a breath before continuing, never taking his attention off the road. “It was devastating to my family because my dad was the only breadwinner and source of income. My mother made a run for it when I was just a kid, leaving us to fend for ourselves. And as if matters weren’t bad enough, Luhan demanded compensation for whatever my dad stole from him. My dad, being the stubborn and selfish man he was, refused to do so and fled from the country as fast as he could, leaving me and my elder sister behind. All of this shit happened only three years ago”.

I part my lips to get a word in but Chanyeol holds up a hand stiffly, cutting me off instantly. He continues his story. “Luhan was far from finished with us for what my father did. He sent men down to our home and thrashed it good and proper, setting fire to our property and vandalizing our walls and even going as far as breaking in to take away our savings and valuables. But I refused to give in to his demands, although my sister was growing a tad bit desperate because neither of us held a stable job, which affected our livelihoods greatly. Then one day, Luhan himself paid us a little visit and decided to make a deal with us. He said that if my sister agreed to be his ‘fuck toy’, he would pay for our expenses and give us a new place to stay, as well as stop his harassment. I was aghast but my sister readily agreed and signed a contract, binding us to Luhan’s tyrant rule which we had no escape from”.

Chanyeol finally grinds to a halt after speaking rapidly for at least two minutes, providing me with the opportunity to get a word in. “So how did you end up as his housekeeper, then?”

“After a couple of months of getting her brains fucked out by Luhan, I could tell that my sister was getting sick and tired of being treated like some cheap whore. She would come home in the wee hours of the night, mascara running down her face as she sobbed silently to herself and she never had a clue that I noticed. So one day, I marched straight into Lu Corporations and had a talk with Luhan. We arranged another deal which resulted in me becoming his so-called housekeeper, also known as slave. He ripped my sister’s contract in half right in front of me, instantly freeing her from his chains and replacing her with me instead. The only difference is that I never had sex with him. What I had to do for him was basically wait on his hand and foot at every single second and adhere to his every command. Then I started to realize that something was amiss”.

I hold my breath, tensing up in the binds of the ropes holding my hands and legs together. “What was amiss?”

“As soon as my sister wasn’t there to fulfil his sexual needs anymore, Luhan started running out of the house every night, which is something he has never done. He would stay out for the whole night, only returning home in the early morning with love bites on his neck and his hair all tousled, a clear sign that he’s been fucking around with someone. One night, I decided to follow him out in fear that he was secretly harassing my sister for more sexual activities behind my back. As it turned out, he was seeing a call-girl and that was the very first time I saw your face”.

The tension in the car increases ten-fold as Chanyeol meets my eye in the rear-view mirror, a sinister smile tugging at the corners of his lips and I fidget in the backseat uncomfortably, squirming in the binds of the ropes. “I don’t see the connection between me and your plan of bringing down Lu Corporations. I mean, it’s cool that you want to take revenge on the man who made your life a living hell but I’m just a mere call-girl who so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m innocent, I swear”.

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong”. He grins, finally slowing the car down to a stop. Upon peering out of the tinted window, I see that we’ve pulled up in front of a lone house that seems to be standing in the middle of nowhere. I’m not exaggerating; no other building is in sight, so I’m forced to assume that we’re somewhere on the outskirts of the city, which seems to send a tremendous chill through my bones.

Chanyeol kills the engine, causing the AC to die off and it suddenly feels like a hundred degrees in the interior of the car. “You’re special, (Y/N)”, he remarks serenely, turning around to shoot a smile back at me.

“So I’ve been told”.

He ignores my snippy remark. “You’ve managed to establish a proper relationship with Luhan, something which no girl has ever managed to accomplish. And as much as it’s sickeningly cute and sweet, it also puts your darling drug lord and his business in a very vulnerable position”.

His voice is husky and low, bouncing off the car walls and causing my head to ring nauseously. If it weren’t for the fact that my hands are tied behind my back, I would put both palms over my ears. “You plan to use me to bring down the whole of Lu Corporations? I don’t know if you’re extremely gutsy or just fucking stupid”.

“Maybe. But since you came into the picture at such a perfect timing, I might as well use you to my advantage”.

“Ouch”.

“Ouch indeed”. He chuckles huskily, reaching behind to pat me on the head condescendingly. “I’ve heard a lot about you, (Y/N)”.

“And from what sources?” I shoot back, shuddering away from his touch. “A lot of people have said a lot of things about me”.

“Kim Minseok. Kim Joonmyeon. Do Kyungsoo, Kim Jongdae. Sound familiar to you?”

My blood runs cold at the mention of the names of some of my clients, as well as Luhan’s greasy receptionist. Realization dawns on me that I’m actually in a very bad situation now and with growing panic, I have no flipping idea on how to get myself out of this. “H-How did you…?” I trail off, at a complete loss for words.

Chanyeol simpers at me, his hand trailing from my head and down to my jaw, cupping my cheek gently. “All four of them work for Lu Corporations and are planning to bring it down from the inside. Of course, there are many more who choose to remain anonymous so I shall not disclose their identities to you”.

“Oh my god, all of you must have really gotten on Luhan’s nerves for him to treat every single of you like shit”.

“Or maybe he’s just a fucking arsehole who enjoys making people’s lives hell and now, those people are willing to give him a taste of his own medicine”.

“Touché”.

Without another word, Chanyeol pushes the car door open and steps out into the night air, making his way to the back door and yanking it open. A blast of four a.m. breeze hits me right in the face as he reaches in and drags me out of the vehicle, tossing me over his shoulder easily as though I’m just a mere sack of potatoes.

I yell, I kick, I scream, I struggle but to no avail. There is not a soul around to hear me and struggling in Chanyeol’s hold is like trying to fight a man with body armour. Plus, it’s not easy to lash out at your kidnapper when your hands and legs are all bounded up.

Eventually, I silently decide to save my energy for later and grow limp in his arms as he strides up to the lone house on his long legs, expertly unlocking the front door with one hand and kicking it shut with his foot after stepping in. The room is plunged in pitch-black darkness but upon a flick of a light switch, fluorescent lights fill the entire space, illuminating the sofa and chairs and beanbags scattered all over. In short, it looks every inch of a normal house. If only the occupant of it is a tad bit more normal as well.

“Nice interior designs”, I comment casually in a vain attempt to quell the rising anxiety in the pit of my stomach.

I’m not exactly lying. With its cream-coloured walls and unique antiques scattered all over the shelves circling the perimeter of the living room, Chanyeol’s house has its own quirks and originality. Or maybe it’s because I’ve never lived in a proper house ever since I was a young and naïve eighteen-year-old girl.

“Thanks”, Chanyeol replies, finally setting me down on my two feet. He spins me around so that my back is facing him and fumbles around with the rope binding my wrists together, swiftly cutting its restraints. Then he moves on to my legs, snipping the ropes there as well. Instantly, blood rushes through my limbs and I sigh with relief, rubbing the tender skin of my wrists.

“Aren’t you worried that I’ll, like…try to escape or something?” I ask pointedly, eyeing the frayed ropes lying on the carpet limply.

All I get in response is a mere shrug from my kidnapper. “You can try. And I know you would. But if I were you, I wouldn’t. You have no phone, no supplies and no idea where the keys to the front door and the car are. So it’s not wrong for me to say that you’re not exactly in an advantageous position”.

I deflate at that. What he said is true; I have nothing on me, not even a bottle of water to take a sip from if I’m ever stranded somewhere, or emergency money for a bus fare. So I switch topics swiftly, tilting my head to peer up at him inquisitively. He just stares down at me, not saying a word. “So what am I supposed to do here?” I question. “I have no phone, no cat to play with, no spare clothes. How do I entertain myself while you’re plotting your revenge against Luhan?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, (Y/N). Stop harping on about your cat, he’s totally fine. He scampered back into Luhan’s house while I was dragging you into the car. As for clothes, just suck it up and wear mine for the time being. About your phone, find something else to entertain yourself. And no, this house doesn’t have a landline so discard the thought of dropping Luhan a call”.

I clench my jaw, annoyed that he managed to read my mind so blatantly. “Fine. I want to take a shower”.

“I see that courtesy is not your strong point”, Chanyeol snaps back. He then chucks his thumb in the direction of the spiral staircase leading to the second floor dismissively. “Bathroom’s up there, to your right. Use the pink toothbrush because the blue one’s mine. Towels are in the wicker basket beneath the sink. I’ll leave some clothes outside the door so wear them when you’re done. Also, don’t use all the hot water up”.

Absorbing all this information, I pivot on my heel and scamper up the stairs, ignoring Chanyeol’s sulky mutterings of “What a brat” under his breath. Letting myself into the bathroom, I shut the door behind me quietly and turn around to survey my surroundings with burning curiosity.

The walls are made of shining white marble, glistening in the warm lights. The porcelain sink stands in the far corner, cluttered with cans of shaving foam, dental floss, two standing toothbrushes, a tube of Colgate and a clean shaver. Chanyeol’s shaving-foam scent fills the entire enclosed area and my nose twitches subconsciously like a rabbit’s, drinking in the masculine fragrance hungrily.

It’s so strange how there are so many men out there in the world and every single one of them has a trademark scent of their own. For example, the musky scent of cologne always lingers around Luhan for hours on end while Kim Joonmyeon permanently reeks of dollar bills. Kim Minseok smells like strawberries while Do Kyungsoo always has the faint scent of baked goods on his clothes.

And here I am, aggressively inhaling Chanyeol’s scent in his bathroom.

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, my hand closes itself around a fluffy white towel in the wicker basket and I dump it on the toilet seat right next to the shower area, proceeding to strip myself of my clothes.

I spend an eternity in the shower, letting the warm water run down my trembling body as I feverishly scrub the grime from my hair. Aimless thoughts race through my mind as I finally turn the water off and step out, dripping wet and shivering like a naked mole rat. With my soaking hair wrapped up in the towel, I wander over to the sink and pick up the pink toothbrush, squeezing out some toothpaste on it and proceeding to brush my teeth. My reflection stares back at me mournfully in the mirror hanging over the sink and I wince at the state I’m in; dark circles beneath my eyes, lips slightly cracked due to the lack of hydration in the past few hours.

Sehun would have a coronary if he could see me now.

With a sigh, I rinse out my mouth and stick the pink toothbrush back in its holder, padding over to the door and cautiously tugging it open. Through the crack of the door, I catch a glimpse of a pile of clothes dumped on the floor outside so I reach down and gather them in my arms, hastily shutting the door once more.

Chanyeol had left me an oversized white button-down shirt and a pair of brown boxers and to my silent spite, no bra. Seething to myself, I slip the clothes on and gaze at myself in the mirror wryly, unimpressed with the way the shirt seems to reach down to knees. I look twelve-years-old all over again, much to my chagrin.

Grumbling, I shake my hair out of the towel and leave the bathroom, the familiar scent of aftershave clinging to my new oversized shirt. For a moment, I stay rooted in the hallway, absentmindedly pondering on what to do next. Then my ears catch the soft strains of the strumming of a guitar a distance away and my curiosity heightens.

Instinctively, my feet take me in the direction of the music and I find myself wandering down the dim hallway to a room right at the end of the corridor. The door to the room is shut but now that I’m in the vicinity, I can pick up on the feverish strumming of guitar strings and it’s like my heartstrings are the ones being strummed.

My eyelids flutter shut on their own, feeling my breathing quicken in time to the intoxicating rhythm. The tune reaches its climax, the reverberation of the sound sends the shudder of a musical orgasm throughout my body, almost causing my knees to buckle. I am turned on by the sound of an acoustic guitar. I am turned on by the sound of Chanyeol playing on his guitar. To be turned on by a certain someone’s body or other physical traits is one thing but this, this is what it feels like to be aroused. This, listening to a certain someone’s feelings and emotions through the music they produce, is pure sex. So raw, so exposed.

And just like that, my hand snakes down to the doorknob and twists it, pushing the door open as I step into the room.

Chanyeol is so immersed in the music he’s producing that it takes him a minute to notice that somebody is quietly hovering in the doorway and observing his mini rehearsal. He halts his playing immediately, causing silence to descend upon the room like a blanket and glances up.

(Y/N) stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with her hands stuffed in the pockets of his oversized shirt as she gazes at him with a dreamy look in her hollow eyes, an expression of pure bliss dancing on her features. She says nothing for a while, her gaze sliding over to the guitar tucked in his lap, and then she makes a beeline for him wordlessly.

To Chanyeol’s surprise, she makes herself comfortable in his lap with her back facing him as she studies the opened notebook on the table in front of her, her tongue sticking out in concentration. The handwritten musical notes stare up at her and she traces the tip of her finger over them lovingly, her head cocked to the side.

Then she turns around to face him, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “Did you write this song yourself?”

Chanyeol blinks, shifting uncomfortably in the chair as he subtly tries to adjust her weight to his stronger knee while keeping a tight grasp on his guitar. “Yeah”, he eventually says. “Why?”

“It’s nice. Play it for me”.

“You already heard most of it, since you were eavesdropping”.

“So? I want to hear it again”.

They stare at each other for a long time, (Y/N)’s dark gaze boring right into his soul, strong and unblinking. If Chanyeol is being honest to himself, he would say that he wasn’t expecting this. Instead, he was expecting a lot of crying and screaming and wailing for him to drive her back to Luhan’s place, as well as multiple escape attempts.

He definitely wasn’t expecting (Y/N) to barge into his self-made studio, eavesdrop on his playing and park herself in his lap while staring at him with that irresistible gaze of hers. But who is he to turn away such a beautiful girl, although she’s a little curt and abrupt and rough around the edges?

“Fine. But get off my lap. I can’t play when you’re in the way”.

(Y/N) graciously adheres to his command, making herself comfortable on the floor as she observes him quietly from her position, her chin propped on the palm of her hands.

Mustering up a deep breath, Chanyeol flicks a quick glance at the music score in his notebook before he starts. But he doesn’t need to, because the song is already imprinted on his heart and permanently running through his veins after countless number of times of rehearsing it. His fingers move over the strings of his beloved guitar expertly, his eyelids fluttering shut on their own as he loses himself in the self-composed song.

It’s like he’s swept off his feet, plunged into his own paradise. Through the living hell Luhan had put him and his family through for the past three years, nothing and nobody had been there for Chanyeol but his guitar and his music. They were his sanctuary in his chaos-filled world, the only things that kept him sane through it all. In his heart, he had made a silent vow that he would never fall in love with anybody after witnessing the hell Luhan put his sister through.

She’d admitted one night that she’d actually developed some sort of twisted feeling of affection for the drug lord and Chanyeol had never been more disgusted in his entire life. Luhan had treated her like a cheap whore, a sex toy, and yet she had the nerve to admit that she was sort of in love with him?

Chanyeol never understood love. His father had claimed that he loved his two children and made a run for it when things turned sour. His sister ‘fell in love’ with a drug lord who did nothing but treat her like a slut. Who would blame young Park Chanyeol for not wanting to get himself involved in anything related to love?

But now, as the strums of his guitar fade away into nothingness as the song draws to a close and he reopens his eyes, he starts to wonder what it’s really like to be in love. Especially when he catches sight of (Y/N) sitting cross-legged on the floor with her chin propped on the palm of her hand as she stares up at him admiringly, head tilted to the side adorably.

That’s when Chanyeol realizes with a jolt that he’s actually astoundingly lonely. Practically no family left to speak of, no lover to take to bed. All that’s left is a bitter resentment eating away at his heart.

“Chanyeol?” (Y/N)’s quiet voice tears him away from his roiling thoughts and he casts a glance at her curled-up form, absentmindedly admiring how ravishing she looks in his oversized shirt.

“Hmm?” He murmurs, setting his guitar carefully against the table and leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped over his chest.

(Y/N) isn’t even looking directly at him anymore; her glazed eyes are fixated on nothing in particular, a forlorn expression falling over her pretty features as she aimlessly fiddles with her fingers. “Are you lonely?”

The question catches him off guard and he leans forward warily. “Why do you ask that?”

“Because your composed music is like art. Art is the perfect way to run away without ever leaving home. Only lonely people want to run away. What are you running away from?”

Chanyeol eyes this particular call-girl with newfound respect, deeply impressed with her poetic approach. “Reality”, he eventually says gruffly. “I’m a lonely person running away from reality”.

She gets to her feet at his response, wandering over to where he’s seated and slides into his lap once more, taking his face in her small and warm hands. “Aren’t we all?” She murmurs sadly.

His heart gallops a hundred miles per minute at her touch, electricity buzzing through his veins and making it feel like he’s on fire. “How about you?” He breathes, unable to resist reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “It must be lonely business in the call-girl industry”.

“Which is exactly why I always run away after a night with Luhan”. She explains. “I’m lonely and Luhan is art. I’m terrified of falling for the art. How can I fall for him? He’s a client of mine and falling for a client is a recipe for disaster. If I could choose who to fall for, I would never choose him”.

The sharp truth of her words cuts through the tense atmosphere like a knife and Chanyeol almost topples back in his chair; is that what love is like? Falling for the wrong person and wanting nothing more than to pull yourself out of it? If it is, he’s not sure if he ever wants to experience love.

But…

“I’m not a client”, he finds himself blurting out.

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that I’m not some filthy rich CEO who’s willing to pay for your services. I’m just a nobody who wants your time and company”.

“But I don’t provide company”, she points out bluntly. “I provide sex. That’s who I am. I can’t help it, it’s like a drug to me. I love sex, I love pleasing men even if it makes me feel crappy at times. I-I just love the attention they shower on me, even if it’s temporary. I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but if you were me, you would understand. I just love being wanted”.

That hits Chanyeol right in the gut. It’s shocking how she’s being so straightforward about her feelings with him, even after he knocked her unconscious and dragged her out to the middle of nowhere in order to plot his revenge against the most notorious drug lord in Asia. He can tell that (Y/N) is telling the truth, judging from the careless way she slid herself into his lap and attached herself to him like a stray kitten looking for food.

She just wants to be with men. She just wants attention. And right now, she wants Chanyeol’s attention.

So he takes up the challenge and leans in to kiss her, his hands travelling down to her hips and gripping onto them to drag her further into his lap. She pauses for a fleeting moment, as though debating on what to do, then she relents and reciprocates graciously, deepening the kiss as her arms entwine themselves around his neck.

“Fuck, you look so good in my shirt”, he hisses, daringly bucking his hips up to grind against her clothed womanhood. “How the fuck didn’t I notice how good you looked earlier on?”

“Maybe because you were too busy being an asshole and kidnapping call-girls in the middle of the night”, (Y/N) remarks cheekily. She blinks at him innocently, a glazed look lingering in her eyes. “Do you do this often?”

“Kidnapping call-girls? No”, Chanyeol admits. “But being an asshole? Yes”.

“It’s okay. Majority of my clients are assholes anyway”.

“Including Luhan?”

“Luhan’s an exception”. (Y/N) tilts her head to give him another peck on the lips, obviously eager to avoid the topic of the drug lord. And Chanyeol isn’t that interested in discussing about her sex life with the CEO of Lu Corporations anyway, so he entwines his arms around her tiny waist and tosses her over his shoulder easily, getting to his feet and making a beeline for the door.

(Y/N) starts to protest, whining incessantly in his ear for him to put her down but he ignores her, making his way down the hallway to his bedroom a few doors down. Once the door to his bedroom clicks shut behind them, he sets her back down on her two feet and roughly pins her against the wall by her shoulders, staring deep into her wide eyes.

“Shut up”, he growls. “Now that you’re in my bedroom, you abide by my rules. You will listen to what I have to say. Is that clear, princess?”

The glint in her eyes tells him everything he needs to know; accompanied by the seductive little bite of her lower lip and Chanyeol knows that he’s got her dancing in the palm of his hand. “Crystal clear”, she responds sweetly.

It’s amazing, honestly. When Chanyeol had initially manhandled her into the backseat of his car, drove her out to the middle of nowhere and finally got her into his house with her incessant insults, whining and biting remarks, she was like a dog who wanted nothing more than to bite him. She was feisty and ferocious, spoilt and untamed.

But now, it’s like she’s an entirely different person. At the promise of sex, she has transformed from a wild bulldog into a submissive kitten, eager and completely ripe for him. And for the umpteenth time, he marvels at the fact that she managed to sweep Luhan right off his feet and worm her way into his ice-cold heart.

It has got absolutely nothing to do with looks. Sure, (Y/N) is jaw-droppingly gorgeous with her full pout and twinkly eyes and good-girl demeanour and petite form but those are just bonuses for her. She is a master in seducing men, from what Chanyeol is experiencing at this exact moment. She knows how to woo them, to charm them into sleeping with her and giving up their hard-earned money for her irreplaceable services.

And Chanyeol is one of those men now, only without money involved.

Unable to hold himself back anymore, he grabs her by the wrist and drags her over to the bed, shoving her back onto the mattress. She sinks into the softness, lustful excitement glimmering in her eyes as she observes every one of his actions with intense eagerness.

The delectable sight of her swimming in his oversized shirt almost brings Chanyeol to his knees with a groan on the tip of his tongue, evident by the erection straining against his jeans. “From this moment onwards, you’ll refer to me as ‘Daddy’ unless I say otherwise. Understand, princess?”

(Y/N) bobs her head in silent agreement, hands tucked in between her thighs delicately. “Yes, Daddy”, she murmurs, her voice laced with lust.

A smile crosses Chanyeol’s lips and he reaches forward to give her an affectionate pat on the head. “Take off the boxers and your panties”.

He leaves her to scramble to adhere to his order, her fingers hooking themselves around the hem of the oversized boxers she’s wearing and yanking it down to her ankles along with her panties. While she’s preoccupied with that, Chanyeol rummages around in one of his drawers for what he’s looking for, his back facing in her direction.

When his fingers finally close around the items he’s searching for, he slams the drawer shut and turns around to hold them up for her to see, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Get ready for the night of your life, princess”.

Before I can comprehend anything more, my hands are handcuffed behind my back and a blindfold is draped over my eyes, blotting out everything around me. Engulfed in total darkness, I feel Chanyeol flip over onto my front and hover over my trembling form. He places his mouth near the shell of my ear, his warm breath hitting my cheek and sending shivers through me. “Look at you, princess”, he coos. “All tied up and soaking wet for me. What happened to your faithfulness to Luhan?”

My body betrays me at his words, especially as his long fingers travel down to my soaking womanhood, toying with my folds teasingly. My hips jerk involuntarily at the raw sensation and I clench my teeth together, but to no avail. “Chanyeol…” I whimper, but a sharp slap against my bare ass shuts me up instantly.

“What did you call me?” He hisses in my ear.

I feel myself blush, inwardly kicking myself for my slip-up. “Sorry, Daddy”, I gasp out.

“That’s more like it”. There’s a smugness to his voice that makes me want to slap the shit out of him but a weird affectionate feeling neutralizes my annoyance with him. So I lie there, completely engulfed in darkness and cuffed up as Chanyeol grinds his clothed erection against my bare ass, pulling out needy mewls from me.

“Oh, princess”, he sighs out blissfully, lazily humping me from behind and trailing his large hands down my bare waist. “You look so good from my position. All cuffed up and vulnerable, like the little slut you are. Are you a slut, princess?”

“Yes, Daddy”, I respond excitedly, unable to resist lifting my hips and grinding back against his prominent hardness. “I’m your slut”.

He chuckles, long and rough and deep, and the sinful sound of it rocks me right to my core; since my vision is hindered, every other sense of mine is amplified by a thousand times over. Every little fleeting touch grazing against my skin sends me into a frenzy, every faint whiff of his addictive aftershave causes me to see blinding stars behind the darkness of the blindfold.

And the most shameful thing of it all? I’m loving every second of this, and Chanyeol hasn’t even done anything to me. The thought of Luhan hasn’t even crossed my mind and I don’t even have time to feel guilty before my amplified hearing picks up on the sound of Chanyeol yanking down his zipper. Shuffling fills the room as I sense him ridding himself of his jeans and chucking it at the foot of the bed.

The next thing I’m aware of is the tip of his cock prodding at the entrance of my ass, almost causing me to groan with desperate neediness for him to fill me up. His large hands plant themselves on my hips, steadying himself in preparation. He bends down, placing his mouth near my ear once more and giving the lobe a kitten lick.

“God, look at you”, he groans, his deep voice a symphony to my ears. “Wearing my shirt, handcuffed, blindfolded and with your ass in the air just for me. Is this the same sight Luhan witnesses every single time he fucks you?”

“Not really”, I mumble mischievously into the pillow. “He doesn’t really like anal”.

“Well, that’s his loss”. Without warning, Chanyeol thrusts his length into me from behind, earning a surprised yelp from me at the sudden intrusion. My body jerks instinctively as he stretches me from inside out with his rock-hard cock and from the excruciatingly addictive sensation, I can tell that he’s obviously way larger in size as compared to Luhan and my other clients.

Grunting with determination, Chanyeol withdraws for a split second before snapping his hips forward once more, easing his length into my stretched hole. I bury my face in the pillow in an attempt to muffle my cries of pleasure but to no avail; they escape into the steamy bedroom air, bouncing off the walls and ringing through my ears.

Through his breathless grunts, Chanyeol growls out breathless words to the rhythm of his thrusts. “Let me hear you, princess”, he demands, his fingers tangling themselves in my hair and yanking my head up from the pillow. “Don’t hold back. Let Daddy hear how good he’s making you feel”.

I let him grip onto my hair, his fingers tugging roughly and my body reacts beautifully to the way he’s handling me like as though I’m nothing but his mere fuck toy. Bliss floods through my veins. This is what I live for. This is what my body craves on a daily basis. And this is what I really am. Not who I am, but what I am. I am nothing more than a cock sleeve, a thing used by men in order for them to fulfil their sexual needs. And yes, I am proud of it. For the time being, at least.

Moans and groans and mewls and whimpers tumble from my lips like a never-ending waterfall, and I’m rewarded for them. Chanyeol never once slackens in the pace of his thrusts, pushing and pulling his length in and out of me like there’s no tomorrow for the both of us. It’s so sinful, the way he’s stretching me past my limit. His tip seems to fuck me straight up my spine and it does nothing but send me spiralling into paradise.

I beg, I scream, I cry for him to fuck me faster, to fuck me harder. I struggle in the holds of the handcuffs, rubbing my wrists raw and tears of ecstasy start to dampen the material of the blindfold. “Please”, I sob. “Please, Daddy. Please fuck me harder”.

“For fuck’s sake, (Y/N)”, he gasps, digging his fingernails into the bruised skin of my hipbones as he tries to steady both of us through the storm. “You don’t release easily, do you?”

“Or maybe you just don’t have the ability to satisfy me”, I remark breathlessly, immediately regretting my sharp words as soon as they leave my mouth. Chanyeol slows the pace of his hips, lazily thrusting his length in and out of me at a leisure-like pace and I instantly silently curse myself for my sharp tongue.

“What did you say, princess?” He croons smugly.

More tears flow from my eyes as I feel my orgasm slowly slipping away from me no matter how hard I try to cling onto it. “I’m sorry”, I gabble, desperately rocking my hips back and forth to resume the intoxicating rhythm from earlier on but it fails to satisfy me. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to. Please, please don’t stop”.

He brings the palm of his hand down against the tender skin of my ass once more, the stinging sound echoing throughout the air and causing me to shiver in anticipation. “I’m not Luhan, princess”, he snaps harshly. “I don’t give in to you just because you murmur a few pretty words of apologies. Luhan may be weak when it comes to you, just like your other clients, but I’m not them, so get fucking used to it. If you ask me, you need to be taught a proper lesson, so since you’re here with me now, I think it’s about time you receive that lesson”.

I almost orgasm at his crude words. Yes, that’s how far gone I am.

My head is pounding, my body is trembling, my womanhood is aching. I’m so unfulfilled in every way possible and the only thing Chanyeol is doing is basking in the satisfaction of watching me squirm and beg beneath him.

To my utter surprise, I feel him flip me over so that I’m lying on my back (or more specifically, my cuffed hands). Following that, he pushes himself into my soaked folds with one powerful thrust, earning a delirious scream on my part. My back flies off the mattress due to the impact of his thrust, sobs of gratitude leaving my lips at the feeling of being filled up utterly and completely.

Chanyeol says nothing in response to my gabbled, breathless gasps of ‘Thank you, Daddy!” and instead allows his large hand to creep up to my exposed throat, wrapping his fingers around my neck loosely. A chill of adrenalin shoots through me at this little action, my body tensing up.

“The safe words are ‘red’ and ‘orange’”, he mutters gruffly. “Say ‘orange’ if you feel uncomfortable. ‘Red’, if you want me to stop. Got it?”

“Okay”, I say breathlessly.

His fingers tighten a little, thumb pressing on the right spot that causes me to feel lightheaded and for the time being, I’m in heaven. Chanyeol is the only one on my mind, my heart thumping to the rhythm of his addictive thrusts.

He builds me up to my climax, keeping his hand locked around my throat and slamming repetitively into me. My folds tighten around him, the ball of heat in the pit of my stomach twists and threatens to unravel itself, and I muster up a deep breath, preparing myself to combust all over his length.

But as soon as I hit my peak, Chanyeol stills in his movement, causing me to come crashing down from my near-high like a rock falling right out of the sky. It’s like a bucket of icy water has been dumped over me, cold and merciless and I emit a forlorn cry, wishing that the blindfold is lifted from my eyes so that I can glare up at him.

But I can’t do anything but beg. I beg him to fuck me until I’m in tears, I beg him to let me release. And yet, he just laughs. He laughs at my predicament with his hand still wrapped around my throat, taunting me with the fact that I need him more than he needs me.

“You know it’s true, princess”, he mocks. “In all your years of being a call-girl, all the men need you to please them. They beg for you to suck them off to their hearts’ content, they beg you to cater to their needs. In all the years, you’ve been needed. But things are different when you’re in my bedroom. Now you’re not needed by anyone, you’re just needy. And you know deep down that this is exactly what you’ve been dying to experience for so long”.

Shame burns through me at the truth of his words. But right now, I can’t think straight. I can’t comprehend anything, except for the fact that I’m in desperate need for an orgasm.

But Chanyeol is not going to let me off the hook easily. He chuckles that husky chuckle of his, reaching down to lift the blindfold from my eyes and suddenly, my vision is filled with the sight of the gleeful smugness on his handsome face.

“Aww, you’re crying”, he coos. “Don’t cry, princess. I’m not so heartless that I’ll deny you of your orgasm. You’ll get it. Eventually”.

A sob rises in my throat. “Please”, I rasp, staring up at him desperately. “Please, Daddy. I-I need you. I need you to help me release. Please”.

“Have you learnt your lesson?”

I nod frantically.

“What did you learn?” He smiles.

“T-That I shouldn’t be rude to you”, I stammer. “I shouldn’t be mouthing off. I should be a good girl, as long as I’m in your bedroom. I should follow your rules. I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll be good. I’ll be good for you”.

With his smirk never wavering, he asks, “Have you ever said that to Luhan?”

Mutely, I shake my head truthfully.

He chuckles. “Thought so. He needs you more than you need him, after all”.

Before I can get another word in, Chanyeol slams into me once more, possessive growls leaving his lips as he thrusts his full length into my gaping chasm. My body reacts instantaneously, vibrating with intense ecstasy as he fucks me to kingdom come.

It doesn’t take me long to reach my climax and this time, I cling to it tightly, not wanting to let go. Chanyeol’s tip collides with my sweet spot and a scream of pure bliss rips itself from me, combined with the addictive sensation of his hand wrapped around my throat.

I chase after my orgasm, my head falling back against the pillows as Chanyeol fucks me to a white-filled paradise, my name falling from his tongue like dripping honey. And with that, I explode all over him, white strings of my release spurting out from in between my folds and squirting all over his length and the sheets, my entire body convulsing violently from the force of my orgasm.

For the moment, I’m gone. I’m lost in a sea of bliss, bursts of white flashing beneath my eyelids as I scream his name. Then the warmth of Chanyeol’s own release in me drags me back down to reality, his raspy growls of my name a symphony to my ears. The sound of it is better than any song he could compose, any strum of any guitar string.

He collapses on top of me, panting hard as both of us slowly come down from our respective highs. And as the patches of release on the bedsheets grow cold, as Chanyeol pulls me close to him and holds me tight, as I get my breathing under control, I feel the bite of reality.

Oh god, I think to myself drowsily. I think I’m addicted to Chanyeol now.

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