#call it the Revenge Dress

[the-writing-mobster]

| The Most Dangerous Game | Frisk Starling | 💙🔪💔

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v i b e —

[ibelongtotheclassics]

Sharing some of my childhood + present anime & studio ghibli OTPs

*uwu* they're so precious for meee 💖🎬🇯🇵

< PART 2 / on-going list >

[hanzajesthanza]

me whenever the short story "something ends, something begins" is mentioned, or not even mentioned, but i have an opportunity to mention it myself

[vonlipvig]

more monte cristo posting and baby ANOTHER ONE DOWN LET'S GOOOOO

[chuluoyi]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

you are an empress perfect in every way... until your husband suddenly casts you aside for his expecting mistress. but you won't be dethroned just like that, because the newly coronated western emperor, gojo satoru, sets his sights on you, and thus your revenge against your ex-husband begins...

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, kinda slowburn, angst to eventual fluff, divorce, marriage of convenience, heavy pining (from gojo's part), childhood friends trope, mentions of infidelity, misogyny, infertility, explicit smut

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress (but i promise you, it's different). my god, for the past month this is all i can think about *sobs* wc. 10.5k ! this is the longest thing i've ever posted here, and if you'd give it a chance, then i'll be really, really thankful!

credit header goes to @/gojokko in twitter!

next. the crown of diamonds | long live the empire

general masterlist | series masterlist

“I accept the divorce.”

Your perfect life was done for. Everything you had worked hard towards— it was now in shambles and tatters.

You, an ethereal, revered empress... someone untarnished in the face of public and private, had just agreed to the emperor’s blatant request of separation.

“My god... how can this be!?”

“Your Majesty! Please reconsider!”

Emperor Zen’in Naoya of the Eastern Empire, your husband—and companion for more than ten years—smirked as he looked down at you, paying zero attention to the uproar in this courthouse.

But then you heard that kind, velvety voice from the back of your head:

“If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

This place has turned into a whopping circus ever since you and Naoya stepped inside anyway. And so, having nothing worthy left to lose, you declared, “And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage.”

Your boldness once again stirred a wave of clamor among the crowd, and even Naoya was glaring at you in disbelief now. “A remarriage…? How dare you—!”

“Well... is it the time for my grand entrance?”

Deep from behind the curtains, suddenly he emerged, dressed in the most lavish robes befitting his own throne, outshining everyone in the room as if he was the one owning the place.

“Heh.” His low chuckle stunned even the mass as he took big strides towards where you were.

This would seal your fate. From now onwards, you would no longer be the perfect empress. Your messy divorce and remarriage will relegate that image to history.

“My goodness, that’s…” the woman in the front gasped. “Western Empire’s…”

“Gojo… Satoru?” Naoya's eyes lit with genuine fury as the other man took his place by your side. “You couldn't possibly mean…!”

You interrupted him regally. “Yes, he is the man I wish to remarry.”

This event was going to blow up tomorrow, with scandalous titles no less than The Deposed Empress Remarries! And there was no going back, ever.

How did your pristine life turn into such a shameful debacle? None of these turn of events would be imaginable for you several years prior...

SATORU, THE CROWN PRINCE OF WESTERN EMPIRE

To Satoru, you were more than just the east’s breathtaking empress—you had captured his attention long before you ascended to that role.

Seven years ago, you were the renowned noble lady, the paragon of perfection sought after by many lords and monarchs alike.

You were both cunning and fair, pretty in the face, came from an illustrious family known for birthing famous empresses in either western and eastern empires. You were the quintessential template that mothers advised their sons to seek in a wife.

The fairest in the land—that was how people called you. And Gojo Satoru is always and only interested in the best.

“Suguru... look at her.” His eyes would soften at the sight of you as he nudged at his closest ally and confidant, the duke. “She is so... pretty, isn’t she?”

Unfortunately, you had been promised to the Eastern Empire’s crown prince from a long time ago too. There was little that the outsiders, including himself—even if he was the heir apparent to his own throne—could do to sway your heart.

“There's more to women than their faces, Satoru,” Suguru sighed, thinking that what he had was a mere lust. “Moreover, she’s engaged to the Zen’in... and they have a very good relationship. Nothing you can do about that.”

“Hmph.”

To be honest, he couldn’t fathom what you could possibly like about that murderous Zen’in spawn. He was a pompous human being, no less.

How on earth could you stand someone like that? Satoru had always wondered… especially when it was well-known to the land that you and him were on good terms despite your arranged marriage.

—and once, he thought he knew who you are…

. . .

Satoru swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat as he attended the royal wedding of you and Zen’in Naoya. Despite hating the circumstances, he had to admit it was a fairytale wedding—albeit with the wrong groom.

You were the epitome of picture book princess. In his eyes, and in the eyes of the attendees of your wedding.

Oh, and he made headlines too, that day—

“My princess, may I have this dance?”

Two hours hadn’t even passed by after you swore your vows as Naoya’s bride, and there he was, asking for your first dance, in your own wedding ball, right in front of your newly wedded husband.

Everyone bet on you turning him down and making a fool of himself, but instead, to spare his feelings, you put your delicate hand in his, and with a wide, shy smile, you said, “Yes.”

Satoru thought it was his greatest achievement then. To have made Naoya red-faced, to have made him watch as he put his hands on your waist, twirl you around— and come one breath away from your face.

“Princess, you’re…” his breath caught as he pulled you close, staring straight at your face—and suddenly he felt like life was so unfair to him as the slow melody of waltz was all he could hear.

How could you be this close... and yet so far by being somebody else’s wife?

And yet he forced the words out, with sincerity he had never showed anyone else before, even as his heart bled and shattered. “You’re so incredibly beautiful.”

Your eyes widened, sparkling with wonder, before you thanked him with the loveliest of smiles. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

Satoru was certain... you had ruined him, because no one else would ever be able to turn his world with just a smile like you did, even as you broke his heart too into a million pieces.

. . .

Ever since that day, everyone had branded him as a prince in search of scandal—coveting the princess married to Zen’in clan.

What everyone didn’t know was that it went beyond that. His obsession of you went beyond your beauty and charms and wits. Rather, it goes a long way back.

YOU, THE CROWN PRINCESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

As inconceivable as it was, once upon a time, you and Naoya were a truly, happy couple.

Handpicked by the late emperor to become his son’s wife, you couldn’t be more proud. With you being the next empress of the Eastern Empire, your clan once again proved itself that it was always worthy of a seat in the monarchy.

But beyond that, you were elated that it was Naoya that you ended up marrying. Your own childhood friend, who often led you around his palace by hand and filled your days with many joy and laughs.

“One day soon, when we are the emperor and the empress—” younger Naoya was always someone who had big dreams about ruling his nation. “We will create a nation in which no one can do anything as they please! We’ll establish order, and anyone who goes against it will be punished! That way, it’ll encourage fairness!”

Not knowing it yourself, you had given your heart wholly to him. You had agreed to all his dreams and visions. You devoted yourself to them all, even more so after your marriage and coronation, as he promised you an ever after.

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

YOU, THE EMPRESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

“Your role is to give an heir to the throne, Empress.”

Your title had never sounded so heavy to you before now, especially when Naoya was the one saying it.

You sighed, gathering your wits and scattered feelings before levelling your calm gaze on your husband. “I understand that, Your Majesty. But it is not something that I can do on my own.”

This year would mark the fifth year of your marriage to Naoya. You understood that the fact you still weren’t able to be with his child would raise questions from the court, but still, must you be reminded of this fact over and over?

Your husband—no, the emperor—barked a satire laugh.

“Oh, really? As I understand it, being infertile is not something I can help you with.”

That hurt. It was a searing pain, like being branded with a red-hot iron. And it felt as if he had torn through your chest with his fist alone.

“I’m not infertile.” Your eyes gleamed with pure defiance as you lifted your chin, facing him in his audience chamber.

It dawned on you that lately, one of the few ways you could speak to him was by requesting an audience as opposed to your usual midnight talks in your private chambers.

When did it start to change? Or was Naoya this kind of person right from the very beginning and you were just blinded by love back then?

"Oh? And what would you call being childless for five years then?" Naoya sneered at you from his dais, placing one hand on his jaw. "Bad luck? You must be terribly cursed with misfortune then."

You fisted your dress, summoning all your strength to hold back tears. Don't you dare cry. Not in front of him.

It wasn't as if you didn't want to carry his heir. For many women, holding their baby in their arms is a cherished dream, and when they hold a position of power like yours, it becomes not just a desire but a duty.

You tried everything—calling in the best doctors, consuming horrible potions, even consulting with the oracle. And they all said you were perfectly healthy and fine. You were at your wits end too.

The irony. You were celebrated in public for your competence, while privately, you suffered your husband's cold detachment and cruel remarks.

. . .

"Empress, where should we put the welcome gifts?"

You studied the floor plan of the banquet hall for your annual New Year's ball with a thoughtful hum before pointing at the entrance.

"Place it here. We want our guests to know that we are generous, and it's easily accessible since the parlor is the first area they reach after arriving."

You loved planning festivities. It was therapeutic in a way, and it gave you little time to think of anything else.

"Oh, and I want to have a welcome arch and flowers placed at the entrance too. This is the grandest event of the year, second only to the Emperor's birthday... we must display the grandeur that befits such an occasion."

Your head maidservant, Hanabi, placed a hand on her abdomen and nodded with a warm smile. "That's a very clever suggestion, Your Majesty! I'll ensure they arrange everything just as you wish!"

As she scurried away, you watched her with an assessing gaze. Hanabi had been with you throughout the five years of your marriage, always at your side, assisting with day-to-day matters and serving as your confidant. She was a great aide.

And you were observant by nature... so of course you noticed things.

...and if you were correct, then she was most definitely with a child.

The thing is... she is unmarried. You hesitated to jump to conclusions without evidence, yet the timing struck you as more than coincidental—it nagged at you for weeks now, suggesting a connection you hoped did not exist.

Because if they really did... then...

You didn't dare to think, because it would be more than a nightmare. But you weren't able to let this go either, so you did what was necessary.

You planted a note in Hanabi's chamber, and then you waited in the gardens, the chilly midnight air wrapping around you like a shroud.

You had done everything you could. Five years ago, you let go of everything and had decided to spend your life with your first love—Naoya.

Because you truly and devotedly love him. You give your all for him—for your life together.

"Ooh, Your Majesty~! It's so cold out here, why not in our usual—"

Hanabi's voice faltered as soon as she saw your crimson gown, feeling like the world had collapsed on her. And you rigidly turned towards her, feeling more or less the same.

And yet, what you had received from him is the greatest betrayal.

SATORU, THE EMPEROR OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE

He first realized something was clearly wrong with you during the New Year’s ball that you hosted.

Satoru had just been crowned emperor during this time, and though rulers typically sent envoys to such grand celebrations due to concurrent festivities in their own lands, it had been several months since he last saw you. He wants to see you.

A meritless action, but he wanted to, regardless.

But that day, you were a fantastic actress in this stage called banquet hall and nobody was the wiser… but he would know, because you mattered a lot to him.

"Your Majesty, you don't seem well." He approached you with a glass of champagne, affixing a friendly smile. "Is there anything amiss?"

Taken aback, you didn't expect such close proximity that you took a step back. His smile almost faltered, but he kept it up.

"Emperor Satoru—"

"Ah, none of that, no. Address me just as you usually do, hmm?"

A smile finally tugged at your lips. "How is that fair, when you address me so formally?"

Satoru chuckled. "You, my queen, deserve all the finery and grandeur there is. And I will see to it that you do."

That was his nickname for you ever since you ascended the throne. Both of your countries refer you as “empress”, but he loves addressing you as “queen” instead.

There was a shift in your expression, and he thought you looked melancholic. It bothered him, stirring a desire to erase that somber look from you. Because above anything and everything, you had to be happy and smiling.

"You're still a flirt, I see, Satoru," you remarked, throwing him a soft smile. "It won't do you good if you're seen with me most of the time, you know."

No, I’m doing this just for you. He wanted to tell you that, but he sighed instead. "You've got it wrong. When I'm in the company of the most beautiful woman in the lands, what's there to be ashamed of?"

Perhaps hearing that finally melted you a bit as you freely giggled this time, and Satoru was glad that he made you laugh even a little.

"You would think that, huh..." you fondly mumbled. And then your expression crumbled, and he could've sworn something painful flashed in your eyes—

What happened to you? He so desperately wanted to ask, but then he saw that preying gaze on both of you. Zen’in Naoya. Satoru clicked his tongue as he watched him weave through the crowd, his gaze locked ominously on both of you.

“Seems like we don’t have much time, after all,” he began, urgency sharpening his words. “But rest assured, whenever you want to talk to me, just send a little birdie my way and I shall answer.”

“Huh?” you blinked at him questioningly, totally not getting what he meant.

He winked, then took your hand and placed a kiss on it, eliciting murmurs of surprise from the crowd at his bold gesture. “And chin up, my queen. You have nothing to fear, and if it makes you feel better...”

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “To me, a diamond is most beautiful. And you… are one that sparkles above all.”

“Naoya, unhand me this instant!”

You were tired of this shit, of Naoya always manhandling you—of him always having a total control over you.

After seeing how close you got to Satoru, Naoya practically saw red. Still, in the prying eyes of public, he remained unperturbed, but his vice-like grip on your arm was sure to leave bruise as he unkindly led you out of the ballroom.

"Naoya!" you raised your voice this time, even louder than before, uncaring even when the wandering eyes of the servants curiously followed the two of you.

You were not made an empress just to follow him. And with that conviction, you forcibly pulled your arm away from his grip right after he shut the door to the drawing room close, not even wincing at the stinging feeling.

His eyes shone with anger. “You insolent—!”

“No—” You stood your ground, and suddenly you got very irate and burst out, “How dare you, Zen’in Naoya!”

He looked at you with equal surprise and mortification, clearly unprepared for your righteous tirade.

"You have made a mockery of our marriage! You have insulted me and your own throne by carrying on with— with the help! My maid!" you screamed at his face, pure anger coursing through your veins. "How could you!?"

Naoya took in your outburst with eerie silence, a sneer slowly forming on his lips. "You get riled up over that? Have you forgotten emperors are free to take mistresses, especially when the empress isn't capable to bear any heirs?"

A burning arrow shot straight to your heart at his response but you willed yourself not to show it. "Regardless, you could've done better and not put our throne to shame by fucking a servant."

"I've told you time and time again. A woman's duty is to bear children, and since you've proven yourself beyond barren, I did you a favor."

"A favor...?"

"As soon as Hanabi births that child, you can raise him as your own," Naoya frankly stated unabashedly, as if proud with his idea. "Saves you the trouble and I get my heir, a win-win solution, no?"

Raise him as my own...? Saves the trouble? You could've sworn that throughout your entire life, you had never been so insulted before now, right in this moment.

"What I do, I always have my throne in mind. And yet you..." his eyes narrowed into unsatisfied slits. "What are you trying to achieve by whoring yourself to that rake, Gojo Satoru? Are you telling people of the ton that you're having an affair?"

His voice made you want to throw up. The realization that everything you thought you had together might have meant nothing to him at all made you feel sick.

And so, hiding your trembling hands and swallowing you unshed tears, you responded to him with a clipped tone—

"You're most despicable, Naoya. And you are a complete fool if you think even for a second that I'd want to raise your bastard!"

He seemed taken aback by your rejection, but you didn't falter. "And oh, since you want to make use of that lowly maid so much, feel free to take her back and track her down yourself, because I've sent that wench away."

With that, you turned your back on him, striding out with your head held high, even as your life crumbled into dust.

Days after your full-blown argument with Naoya, your situation only worsened. By now, even the palace servants knew you had incurred his wrath, while Hanabi had won his favor by carrying his child—possibly the heir to the throne.

The child she was carrying was no threat to your position. After all, you were the empress. A child of your blood would trample over any bastard.

However, you'd be damned if you shared a bed with him again, and Naoya made it clear that his mistress would be elevated to the rank of royal consort. Given the current trajectory—and history's tendency to repeat itself—emperors often divorced or banished their empresses in favor of their mistresses.

Bah. You could only scoff at your laughable predicament. You came from a prestigious clan and were revered, yet now you were no more than a scorned woman.

Dark thoughts consumed your mind for a time—you couldn't deny that you had considered leaving the palace for self-imposed exile or even ending your life. However, reason always prevailed.

You wouldn't give Naoya what he wanted most: your compliance. And around the time when you resolved to do that, a finely decorated envelope arrived at your study, with no signature whatsoever.

Intrigued, you opened it to find an intricate dried rose bookmark and a folded letter nestled inside.

Greetings to you, my queen. Yeah, it's me. Hope you won't be too surprised. But if you do, know that I always mean well.

Satoru. You weren't expecting this. A small smile tugged at your lips. How long had it been since you last smiled so freely?

I've heard you love reading, hence the bookmark. Fun fact: I made it myself, with Shoko's help. She is sooo bad at explaining though so if the flower is wrinkled... please blame her.

This time, you giggled. He was an emperor, for god's sake. Should someone of his station write so informally like this?

Now... I'm no oracle, but even I know that you must be having bad days. And so, let me entertain you with several tales from my kingdom. So, the other day, my good friend Suguru, the duke—you must've heard of him surely (they said he is the most handsome bachelor in the West but they must be missing an eye for saying so because clearly I'm more!)—just fired a pair of his servants because he caught them in a thirst! He is so uptight! Why can't he let two people in love be!?

Before you knew it, you found yourself chuckling at the lines upon lines of anecdotes Satoru had penned in the letter. The way he wrote, it was as if he was right here, saying all of this to you in real-time. For a while, you were completely absorbed in the world of the Western Empire he described, and all your worries and anxieties seemed to fade away.

Okay, that's it for now. This is just a teaser actually, so if you want to subscribe to more tales of my humble little country, you can always be my empress reply to this letter! :D Look out for a white cat near your windowsill during the hour of snake—he is my trained pet, and put your message in his little backpack. Don't worry, he's cute and doesn't bite!

You were so giddy by the end. His message warmed your heart so much that your eyes grew misty. In the aftermath of Naoya's betrayal, you were certain your life would be filled with much sadness to come.

Yet, your friendship with Satoru might just be the thing that would save you.

No matter how much his friends Duke Geto and Countess Shoko urged him to see reason—that you were no longer available and occupied with your duties as the empress of your own empire—Satoru couldn't help but still cast an eye your way.

You were clearly unhappy, and to him, someone as radiant as you should be happy.

And so, that was why he took his quill and started writing that letter to be sent to your place, along with a rose strapped inside.

He knew that, being the kind person you were, you would most likely respond, but still, the moment his cat arrived back with your reply, he was elated beyond measure.

Of course I knew it right away! I omitted your name because who knows who might catch your cat on the way. Anyway, I hope Mr. Cat will arrive back to you safe and sound. Firstly, thank you for your letter. I must say I'm so happy to receive it :) I haven't had best days so reading it made me smile. And secondly, of course I'll subscribe to your stories of Western Empire. I've been wanting to visit it myself but just haven't gotten the chance to... so if you will continue it, I shall be happy to read :D

If anything he wrote brought you joy, then Satoru was content. He had achieved his goal then.

And it was his own little secret that... by corresponding with you, it allowed him to savor the feeling of having you as his own, if only through words.

Mr. Cat's name is Sugu-chan after Suguru but you can call him whatever you wish. And don't worry, he is strong and can fight if necessary! And don't be too formal with me, my queen. We have known each other forever. Anyway do tell me, what is your favorite color now? Let me guess, is it still that specific shade of crimson?

You name your cat after your best friend...? And you're making it hard for me to be less formal when you always address me as queen! Hmm, I suppose so. I love burgundy. I've even had my study designed with that exact color scheme. It just gives me the confidence I need, you know.

So you still love burgundy... I'll keep that in mind ;) Frankly, any shade of crimson suits you—you're always a vision in them. Back then and especially during your coronation. I love blue, so I think we're a match? :D

Back then...? Hmm, surprisingly yes, red and blue would make a good match... Anyway, I believe you promised me unusual tales from your 'humble little country', so please indulge me!

You've forgotten it already? Around the time we first met, back when I was still known as "the cursed prince"? It holds such importance for me but sadly it seems like it was just a passing moment to you :( Oh, yeah, I haven't forgotten about it! So, this time let me tell you about the time when Earl Nanami got wasted . . .

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Amidst the turmoil of your marriage, exchanging letters with Satoru became your sole respite. His stories regarding his own empire amused you, and sometimes it got you to wonder what it was like to live there.

However, running away from your problems would never solve them. Writing to Satoru may have helped you to cope, but still, your real issue with Naoya wouldn't vanish simply just by ignoring him.

. . .

"Your Majesty..."

For a good one minute, you stood still. Your lady-in-waiting had delivered an earth-shattering news—but admittedly, a possibility you thought was in the cards the moment you went against Naoya.

"His majesty has summoned the high priest to his study," the elderly woman added, close to tears. "But it is very likely that he has submitted the petition for—" her voice faltered when she caught sight of the emptiness in your eyes, unable to continue.

A divorce. Naoya had been considering a divorce. And by now, he was set on it.

"I'm so, so sorry..." she choked out, her voice breaking with sorrow to mourn you, but you remained expressionless, lost in your thoughts.

The last time an empress of Eastern Empire was divorced was more or less a century ago, because she had committed a grave treachery against a royal consort by poisoning her. She was sentenced to death by hanging afterwards.

The irony. You were in similar situation, only that you weren't vengeful enough to resort to poisoning Hanabi. Speaking of her, her baby was due in another four months, and now she was living happily in Naoya's quarters.

"Don't be. I'm perfectly fine."

To consolidate his illegitimate child's position, Naoya used the most effective way. Since you wouldn't listen to him, and Hanabi must be a far delightful companion rather than you, he was more than willing to cast you aside in favor of making her his empress instead.

You thought it would hurt more, and yet what you felt the most right in this moment was white-hot anger. This is unacceptable. It was the greatest insult to you both as a woman and as the empress.

Now, all you could think of was how to uphold your dignity and plot your exit from this palace with your head still held high.

If I can't be the empress here...

And after a sleepless night, you came to a daring solution. And your plan—

...I'll be one somewhere else.

It was an invitation, Satoru thought, almost in disbelief. Or it sounded a lot like one, didn't it?

Heart beating a little faster and blushing, he reread the latest letter you had sent him.

It's only the beginning of summer, and the heat is sweltering... I'm considering treating myself to a trip to the winery village on the border between the east and west. I think it'll be nice if I have a companion...

Winery village was right in the middle of the western and eastern empires, and it was a safe zone. Vineyards were vast and thick, but it wasn't exactly a popular vacation spot. So, it intrigued him why you would want to go there.

Just as he was about to reply to you that it was a very good coincidence that he too wanted to pay a visit to the said village, suddenly—

"Gojo! Gojoooo!" Shoko suddenly burst into his study, startling him.

"Shoko! What the heck?!"

Lady Shoko might be a countess, but she, Satoru, and Suguru all attended the same royal academy. Despite their prestigious titles now, Satoru insisted that in private, both Suguru and Shoko address him just as they did before he ascended the throne.

Still, she was ruder than Suguru in many ways. Satoru gave her a stink eye, but his confusion grew as she seemed to be delivering momentous news.

"Gojo, have you heard that Naoya will divorce Y/N?!"

"Wha?" it felt like a ton of bricks suddenly fell down on his head. And then his friend proceeded to tell him everything she knew.

"It wasn't made official yet, but even the townsfolk have been talking about it. They also said that Naoya have taken a mistress, and that she was formerly the empress' maid."

Satoru listened to her in silence, but the moment he heard that the Zen'in spawn planned to divorce you, anger flared within him. And to add insult to injury, he two-timed you with a servant?

The fucking bastard. He never deserved you at all. How crushed must you have been, enduring all this shit?

"Now, I wouldn't normally encourage you this," Shoko took out the cigarette she stashed in the folds of her dress and sighed. "But since you never let go of that weird fixation on her, should the royal divorce happen..." she shrugged as she took a seat in front of him.

"No matter how laughable it is, you might have a chance."

She is so right. These long years of longing for your affections and dreaming of having even a minute more of your time... there was now chance to turn it to reality.

When you arrived at the winery village for your vacation to breathe in some fresh air, honestly, everything was still in shambles.

You couldn't forget the horrified looks from the court when Naoya announced the divorce. Most were shocked and pleaded with him to reconsider. Some from your circle of ladies even sobbed, openly stating that you didn't deserve this fate.

“Empress... His Majesty shouldn't be that harsh...” Hanabi had said to you afterwards, seemingly concerned for you. “Your legacy here… I’ll make sure to carry them on.”

Sometimes you didn’t know whether Hanabi was pretending to be dumb or indeed she was. One thing you knew though...

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi.” You looked down at her with eyes as cold as ice. “Beware, the Emperor is fickle, be sure to not run out of entertainments.”

You knew you deserved a better fate than being the empress of the Eastern Empire, but seeing those who still cared for you made you solemn. Your loyal maids, those who supported you... and what about organizations you've spent time and energy to?

“My queen, ah, there you are.”

Satoru's voice from behind startled you, interrupting your daydreams. He quickly came beside you and extended his hand, asking for yours.

You offered him your right hand, and he promptly pressed a kiss on it, his bright blue eyes gazing up at you.

It wasn't as if you just noticed how pretty his eyes were, but now that there was no ballroom and scrutinizing eyes around you, you couldn't deny that the way his eyes sparkled as he gazed at you—solely and purely on you—made you breathless.

What... would it be like to have this man... to be your husband instead?

"I missed you. I know we talk daily through letters, but seeing your beauty firsthand is always a sight for sore eyes," he cheekily commented as he let go of your hand. "Now, I get to see you without your pesky husband around, and yeah, you never fail to make my silly heart race."

You chuckled. "You always flatter me..."

He only gave you a toothy smile, and you two strolled the vineyard. For a while, you talked about nothing of importance, like where your ladies-in-waiting were, how things were from his side.

"How do you find being the emperor?"

"It's tiring! It's boring too to look through accounts and oversee those trivial state affairs! And not to mention how many people have been nagging me to take a wife soon!"

"Oh? You haven't been on the lookout already?"

"Nah. No one is good enough, I need someone already familiar with state affairs and such," he said, wrinkling his nose sourly at the thought. But then he cast his eyes on you.

"And frankly, you are my standard," he fixed you a meaningful smile. "No one comes close. If you weren't betrothed to the Zen'in back then, I'd have proposed you in a heartbeat."

Thump. Thump. Thump. Your dead heart suddenly came to life. Gojo Satoru had just confessed his affections for you so candidly, and it got you thinking how much easier your life would be with him. He would love you, take care of you...

And beguile you.

His eyes fondly crinkled at you. "You are everything I desire in a woman to be my wife."

He adores you so easily, so fluidly... and yet, Naoya, who has you fully, is throwing you away.

Satoru observed how your face fell once again, just as it had during the New Year's ball. And now he knew, it was because you were facing your impending divorce.

But he wasn't going to tell you that, instead, he would willingly be your confidant and offer you his very being. He was about to crack a joke to lift your spirits, when you blurted—

"What if I said... I want to be your empress?" you kept your pace, not looking at him at all. "What if I said... I'll leave everything and come to you?"

Huh? What…?

That was loaded. Have you entertained the thought too? Satoru had craved the very idea for so long he didn’t even miss a beat—

“Then I’d marry you.” His voice was straight and true, shooting straight to the most tender part of you that Naoya had torn to shreds. “If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

No hesitation. It almost reduced you to tears. You stopped where you stood, willing yourself not to tremble. There is still one person who sees this much value in you.

“Then I’ll be yours,” you breathed out. “I’ll be your empress, Satoru.”

Satoru could've sworn time had stopped. If one moment ago, you looked like you were about to shatter, now you were a vision of the dignified and perfect queen he had always known you were.

“I’ll be your queen— your everything.” You declared, locking eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze not escaping him.

How many years had he dreamed of this moment? How many long nights had he endured, yearning for you, knowing you were beyond his reach?

Finally, finally... Satoru grinned, swearing to all the divine beings out there that he had never known how liberating it was to finally have what he wanted. “That would be my greatest honor.”

He drew you close—you let him—and after one second of taking in your enchanting eyes, he crashed his lips against yours.

His lips started soft and gentle, then became fiery as his tongue met yours. He pulled you closer, one arm around your waist and the other holding the back of your head. You responded eagerly, pressing against him, fingers tracing his neck and feeling the lines of his undercut.

One is finally having the woman he had wanted for so long, and the other was plotting her escape from her misery.

You were using him. He knew it. Yet, he didn't care. Hidden behind bushes and vines, you shared your very first heated kiss, aware that this moment would leave its mark as both the greatest stain and triumph in your lives.

And when he finally pulled away, lips swollen and wet, with a wolfish grin, he promised you once again—

“Give me everything that is yours... and I swear on my life, I will do everything to turn your life into a living dream.”

“Empress, your husband His Majesty the Emperor, has requested a divorce.”

It was how your once pristine life transformed into the scandal of the century inside the courthouse.

"If you accept this petition, then you will no longer be the Empress of Eastern Empire. You will lose all the rights you have as a senior member of the imperial family..."

You donned your finest attire—the intricate crimson and black dress you had designed and commissioned the dressmaker to create. Today, faced with Naoya's divorce decree, it would be the last time you adorned the colors of his empire.

"The ties that bound you together as husband and wife would be severed—"

Good riddance, you thought.

"If this is not what you want, you have the right to—"

"I accept the divorce."

Your voice cut through the heavy solemness of the witnesses and turned them into a mass of disbelief. You disregarded Naoya's smirk and held the priest's gaze. "And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage."

The crowd was in for a second wave of uproar when you boldly stood your ground, and they erupted into clamors once again when Satoru made his grand entrance and took his place beside you.

"You—!" Naoya was so furious that he roared. "This is my empire!"

"And?" Satoru challenged with a dauntless smile. "I'm here to propose, and since she accepts your divorce request, I believe she has no relations with you any longer and is free to marry someone else."

You remained motionless, until your cold fingers met warmth when Satoru linked his hand with yours reassuringly.

"This is treachery! I won't fucking permit it!" Naoya hollered as he faced the high priest, who had a grim face while observing this three-way headlock between the three of you.

"Emperor Naoya, that matter falls into the jurisdiction of the church." The high priest let out a sigh and then turned to you, assessing your calm gaze.

Regardless, Naoya paid him no mind. "I refuse to grant you any permission to remarry! You will be banished to the cold palace until the rest of your pitiful days! Not only do you fail miserably by being barren beyond help, you also dare to whore yourself—" he was now rambling curses at you before everyone in the court, and it pierced you deeply—

Until Satoru tugged you behind him, so that you wouldn't have to see his face any longer.

"High priest!" Satoru's voice blared as he clenched his jaw, irate at the string of profanities directed at you. "Do you still truly believe that the deposed empress can't remarry? When she has suffered through this man's downright betrayal?"

Your head was spinning. You wanted this whole ordeal to be over already.

And thankfully, even the high priest saw reason, that you were undeserving of this debacle. In the end, his words held more weight than anyone else's, even Naoya's.

"I accept Empress Y/N petition to marry Emperor Satoru!"

In the chaos of the courthouse after the high priest granted your wish, Naoya shook his head in disbelief, looking at both of you with intense disdain.

"You've always wanted that wench, haven't you, Gojo?" Naoya cackled with a malice you would never have expected from someone who had been your husband for ten years.

You had tuned out all the noise. This dumpster fire was too much even for you. But then, you felt a strong arm enveloping you, sealing your fate as the match made in this courtroom—

"I have, yeah," Satoru replied with a smug grin. "And now that she is mine... it's just the beginning of your downfall, Zen'in."

Your wedding banquet in Western Empire lasted a week long.

True to his promise, Satoru spared no effort to make you happy. The moment he brought you to his palace, he ordered immediate plans for wedding celebrations. Make it grand, make it unforgettable... he took charge himself.

And on the final, seventh day, as you were about to be formally crowned as the empress of the western lands, you were stunned.

"This is your coronation dress, Empress," your new lady-in-waiting, Shoko, said with pride. "Gojo— I mean, His Majesty, specifically has his late mother's dress altered to suit you."

You promised yourself that you would no longer wear any shades of crimson. As much as you loved the color, it reminded you too much of your homeland and Naoya. No matter how much you despised him now, once upon a time, he was everything you loved and more.

And you thought you couldn't possibly love another color until you saw the extravagant navy dress in your chamber. Made of luxurious satin and adorned with literal diamonds, it shimmered under the light and flowed gracefully with layers of brocade cascading to the floor.

To give you something so valuable... You had expected to enter into a marriage out of necessity, but your new husband had no intention of ceasing his ways to win your heart.

If it's with him, maybe... just maybe...

Today is the day.

Satoru sat on his throne before his court in the grand hall of his audience chamber. His hair was pulled back, and he was dressed in his official attire, robe of silk and a crown made of pure gold.

Next to him, another resplendent crown adorned with jewels and diamonds shimmered in the light—the empress' crown. Your crown.

Today was the day this empire would truly acknowledge his queen. He stole a glance at you on his other side, and his breath was taken away.

With your hair tucked into an elegant updo, you were the very vision of a fairytale queen. You were incredibly stunning, almost otherworldly— shade of blue suited you as much as crimson did, just as he thought.

This day would go down in history. But before that, he would ensure that the news would reach Zen'in Naoya. He would spite him so hard.

"Today marks a momentous occasion. We gather here to celebrate not only my marriage and my new wife's coronation," Satoru glanced at his audience with a smirk, his expression widening as he spotted his best friends Suguru and Shoko. "But also the start of her reign... and as we know it already, her fame and beauty are second to none."

The crowd burst into giggles, clearly aware of his scandal at the Eastern Empire's courthouse. And even you smiled.

Satoru shrugged, playfully rolling his eyes. "Spare me, I'm a newlywed, after all. Anyway..." His gaze shifted to the intricate crown, a relic of his late mother's, and then back to you. "Come."

You knelt before your new husband, bowing your head. The whirlwind journey from the East, your remarriage to Satoru... It had all felt surreal until this moment. Now, the weight of reality settled upon you, almost shaking your very core—

But just as the thought crossed your mind, Satoru placed the crown upon your head. As the jewels settled into place and you rose to face the crowd, his voice cut through the air:

"And here I present to you, your new empress!"

The room erupted in applause, the cheers echoing around you. Everyone congratulated you without fail, and your breath was taken away.

It was a sight beyond belief, as they chanted your name, over and over again—

“ALL HAIL THE EMPRESS!”

"I have something for you!"

You wouldn't expect that you would ditch your last night of wedding celebrations along with your husband, and yet here you were, led by the hand by a very giddy Satoru.

"Where are we going?" you questioned him, your pretty dress sweeping the halls in a rush.

He turned to you to send you a wink. "Trust me, sweetheart. You'll love it."

Somehow the way he called you made your heart thump a little faster inside your ribcage. This man is really, truly, your husband now.

He was such a refreshing person, it almost made you let go of everything that molded you into the perfect empress in the east, and be just... you.

"Here." Both of you stopped in front of a grand door, and he ushered you inside. "Come, come~"

A study, you realized as you stepped inside, but then a gasp left your lips—

"How do you find it, hmm?" Satoru put an arm around your waist, proud of how the burgundy walls and mats enveloped the entire space, creating a tranquil sight that perfectly matched your taste.

It was so much like your private study in the Eastern Empire's palace. You might now hate that place, but your private study was filled with the memories of smiles while writing back to Satoru's letters and waiting for his cat to come. And to have this now in your new home...

"You remembered..." you looked up to him, almost tearing up.

"Of course I do," he pressed a kiss on your temple. "I said that so long as you're with me, I'll turn your dream into reality, didn't I?"

This man really treasures you, or at least that was what his actions had proven so far.

"You're everything I've ever wanted and more," Satoru said, wrapping his arms around you from behind in a warm embrace. "You might not realize it, but I've been in love with you since you first visited western lands."

"What?" you turned to him with genuine confusion. "How?"

"That blind boy who you led by the hand... he had no friends," Satoru sighed against you. "The first and only person who asked him if he was lost... is you."

Suddenly, you were thrown back in time to your first encounter with Satoru many years ago. He was known as "cursed" for being born with peculiar eyes, had been blind for a period of his childhood, before he awakened the true extent of those brilliant blue eyes and brought his clan to power by wielding them.

Back then, you thought it was wrong for him to be left alone, so you took him by the hand and escorted him back to the palace, unaware that he was the infamously cursed crown prince.

"You made me feel less lonely. And I thought then... someday, somehow... through some sort of miracle in which I regained my eyesight and could see you... I'd immediately ask for your hand."

But you were named the crown princess of the Eastern Empire. The thought of how crushed Satoru must have felt upon hearing the news pricked at your heart.

You felt soft, you felt loved, and most of all, you felt an overwhelming certainty that with this man by your side, you would finally experience the genuine love that had been missing from your life for so long.

"You have me now," you whispered in response.

Unlike your first kiss in the winery village, this time, you were the one who faced him and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Be it impulse, overwhelming feelings or something else... you didn't care. You just want him.

And wouldn't you know, your new husband... is also a wonderful, dashing lover.

"You're so... fucking beautiful..." Satoru's lips were on yours, claiming them with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands roamed your body, tracing each curves and lines.

You moaned into his mouth, clutching his robes. He captured your wrists with one hand, using the other to tilt your head back so he could leave bruises on your neck in the process, making you moan.

"Keep making that sound, yeah?" Satoru rasped, his hot breath giving you goosebumps. "Keep me going with your voice."

As he gripped your waist, it dawned to him once again that you were here, with him.

Seeing his colors on you ignited desire straight to his cock. His empress was stunning, more so now than ever, more than any woman Satoru had ever seen.

He led you to the bed, his movements urgent yet tender. The air was thick with desire as you lay back, pulling him down with you. You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him, craving more.

This wasn't your first time, yet you had never been this excited before. From heated kisses until somehow managing to get rid of your underwear and left you in your dress... your body nearly thrashed in response.

"Look at you... An queen of two empires, yet rendered putty in my hands," Satoru wickedly grinned as he slipped a hand under your dress, rubbing his thumb teasingly over your clit. You let out a soft sigh at the prodding. You were getting wetter by each second... and Satoru felt his cock straining against the tight material of his dress pants.

"More..." you pleaded, arching your hips. "More...!"

Any of your wishes would be his command, so he pushed two fingers inside you at once, and you let out an erotic gasp. Satoru was so close to tearing his pants off by seeing how tight you clenched around his digits.

Breathy moans fell from your lips with each harsh brush of his thumb over your clit, his fingers fucking you fast—

"Satoru...!" you shuddered, gripping his shoulders as you became limp and came into his hands in spurts.

"My queen..." he then captured your lips in a brash kiss, and you reciprocated it. He pulled away only to press his forehead against yours in an attempt to calm his raging heart. "No matter what."

His watery, sparkling eyes was mesmerizing to you, and you took one breath before you crashed your lips into his, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

"As pretty as you look in this, I'm going to take it off," Satoru murmured with a meaningful smirk, slowly undoing the laces of your dress. "I want to see you completely naked... just for me."

Soon, you laid bare, and the cold air made your body shiver. Satoru clenched his jaw tightly at the scrumptious sight.

It was almost difficult for him to take in all of you at once—your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, erect nipples, and legs spread wantonly for him. Satoru had been here so many times in his dreams, and to see it becoming reality...

"If back then, you had chosen me instead—" he sounded almost heartbroken, which startled you. "I would have treated you right from the start—"

You looked up to him. "You would..."

"Don't you know how many years... I've been just there— watching you and that bastard? Knowing I can do even more than him?"

"Mhm..."

You rose, tugging him closer, before you unclasped his robe, letting it fall to the floor. "Satoru... right now... I'm yours."

He allowed you to undress him and soon he too was out of his stuffy royal attire. Your eyes wandered on each part of his body you touched. His chiseled body, snow-like skin, and then the hardened bulge that sprung out the moment you undid his pants—

The sight of his cock alone only turned you on even more. You gently gripped the glistening head, running a thumb over the tip before gliding your hand towards the base of his length. With a gentle rhythm, your hand moved from base to tip in a slow, teasing motion... before pecking his head.

"Yeah... you're right." His eyes never left yours, admiring you as if you were the most precious gemstone, before catching you off guard. While you rubbed him, he snaked a hand around your waist, pulling you so that you tumbled on top of him.

You moaned loudly as his cock—big, both in length and width—entered you, his hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart so he can shove himself deeper.

You felt so, so full, as you pulled Satoru to you tightly, groaning into his shoulder. And he started to set the pace, moving against you.

"Ahh," you moaned out shakily, fingers clawing into his back. To him, the sounds you made drew him in like a siren's song, it made him throb inside you. "Ahh—hngh!"

"Feel good?" he asked, voice sultry and deep, as he thrusted into you particularly harder, causing you to stifle a moan. "Let it out—hah—sweetheart... I want to hear you, hmm?"

And you did. You felt hot. Your unabashed, nasty sounds with each thrust drove him to the edge. With every lift of your hips, you squeezed him so tightly it almost made his head spin. His breaths came in short pants too.

"You fit me so damn well," he groaned, holding your hips hard enough to leave imprints of his fingers. "So fine..."

One woman. It took just one woman—you—to unravel him like this.

"Satoru, harder—" You commanded, wrapping your arms around his neck even as you trembled. "N-not enough... harder!"

He actually had to swallow, because you and your pussy felt so damn tantalizing. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

He slammed his hips against yours twice—no, thrice the previous speed, and you incoherently squealed. The squelching sound of your hips slamming against each other, and the immense wetness coming out where you two were joined... it was clear: you were addicted.

"Did Naoya ever make you feel as good as I do you now?" he drawled, sinking into you impossibly deeper, squeezing your left mound and flicking your right nipple at the same time. "Did he... ever make you ride him like this?" And then he instantly regretted his words.

Because the moment he said that, you felt cold, reminded of nights in which Zen'in Naoya grabbed you just to forcefully breed you. You winced, and Satoru caught it.

"I..." you shifted your gaze away from him, and he could've sworn that it was sorrow he saw flashing in your pretty eyes. "I-I... don't want to talk about him..."

Feeling remorseful, Satoru reached for the back of your neck and pulled you to him, kissing your lips softly. "I'm sorry—"

"You don't have to—"

"Tonight, I'll make you scream my name so hard you'll forget him," he promised as he pulled away from you, his eyes darkening. "Tonight, give me everything and I'll show you how a man truly loves his woman."

And he followed through. He worshipped you meticulously, treating your body with the reverence one might bestow upon delicate glass. He peppered kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach, lips and tongue trailing down, his relentless thrusts so well-paced and brutal at the same time.

"I'm— close!" You whimpered, and yet still grinding your hips against him. He was watching your every move, every wave of pleasure that was evident on your face— committing it to memory for those moments when he couldn't hold you close.

You gasped—as a mind-blowing orgasm then ripped out of your very being, your hips faltering as you surrendered to ecstasy with a cry of his name, coming all over him. "Satoru... Satoru! Ahhh!"

And Satoru kept his gaze on your face as he too busted inside of you hard, feeling himself filling your womb with his essence, his hands kept your waist steady, memorizing the way your lips part and the way your body went limp into him with satisfaction.

Dear heavens, I love you. The sight of you was nothing but perfection, and with everything he had, he was very sincere when he said—

"You're flawless, sweetheart."

2 MONTHS LATER

"If you give me a son, I'll throne you as the empress right on that very day."

The Eastern Empire's palace was bustling as the royal consort's screams echoed through the halls. The day Naoya had been eagerly awaiting had arrived—his mistress was delivering his heir.

Yet unbeknownst to him, whispers in the dark suggested the royal baby was arriving suspiciously early. Many, still mourning the previous empress who had been dethroned so abruptly, were not exactly thrilled with this turn of events.

"My lady, just a little bit more!" the maid encouraged. Hanabi strained once again as the pain peaked and her body spasmed, letting out the loudest wail as the baby finally slid out of her.

"W-what... is it?" on the brink of passing out, Hanabi asked anyone who might hear her. She had to know, for she was so close to obtaining her throne—

"It's a girl, my lady!" the midwife announced.

What?

Her world crumbled at that very moment. A girl? A girl can't be the heir!

She wanted to sob, to utterly mourn, and right at this moment she was full of fear, because if Naoya knew—!

Like a curse, he suddenly made his presence known in the birthing chamber. His face scrunched in distaste at the scent of blood filling the air. He took one look at Hanabi, tearful and frazzled after the ordeal, then turned to the midwife, who was trembling at his presence.

"A baby girl, Your Majesty."

In that instant, fury flashed through him. He shot everyone in the room a glare before his eyes settled on his consort, full of spite.

"You useless tramp."

Your life with Satoru in Western Empire was wonderful.

He was everything Naoya was not. Satoru adored you, prioritized your well-being and happiness, often humored you, and made your days an endless delight.

And dare you say... you had begun to return his affections as well.

How could you not? Everything he did, he did with you in mind. He eased you into your position so seamlessly, and soon you found your place comfortably at court.

"He is mixing pleasure with his kingly duties," Suguru grumbled, watching his best friend order the gardeners to plant more blue roses simply because you mentioned finding them beautiful earlier. "Empress, you have to keep a tight grip on his leash."

"Well, at least he's happy." Shoko shrugged and nudged you. "Can't you see by now? How much of a loser he is for you?"

You did see him—a man who showed you everything he had. He had given you everything you unknowingly needed.

And you just wished... you could return the same for him. It still made you bitter, knowing you might never be able to give him heirs due to your condition.

. . .

"Sweetheart... what's on your mind, hmm?"

You looked up to him as he pressed a kiss on your cheek, an arm securely around you, sweaty and panting after your steamy session.

With his hair down and messy after you yanked him earlier, your lips curved into a genuine smile. "You look hot like this, you know?"

He clicked his tongue. "Hmm, I am, of course. But no use in changing topics, I know you well enough now."

Your bare body was pressed against his chest, fingertips tracing gentle lines on his skin.

"There's a possibility that... I can't give you any children." You almost felt ashamed saying this to him, unable to look at him in the eye. "I-I... I've failed for many years—"

"Hush," he silenced you with a finger to your lips, his expression firm. "No thinking that, yeah? I don't care."

"But—"

"Children are gifts," he said then, caressing your face tenderly. "It's not up to us to control how it'll take or not. And I married you not because I want heirs or such—I love you, you know?"

Your glassy eyes met his, and you willed yourself not to shed a tear.

He grinned cheekily. "Besides, you've felt it yourself—my sexual potency is undeniable. And I don't believe for a second, that you're what that bastard claimed you to be. I bet he's the one who is impotent—"

"Satoru! You're so obscene—!" you giggled freely and poked his chest.

At that time, you were just relieved that he didn't mind. Though it was still weighing in your mind on some days, you felt a newfound sense of liberation compared to when you were still in the Eastern Empire.

But you were in for another plot twist. Perhaps Satoru is correct, and your doubts are unfounded...

"Ugh..."

Your stomach churned in discomfort, a sickening nausea that seemed to twist your insides and threaten to force its way up. This had happened for days now.

You wanted to find a physician before Satoru was aware of your state. You didn't dare to hope or speculate, because you were tired of it by this point. You just wanted clarity.

Yet, the physician's words left you speechless.

"Your Majesty... it seems that you are with child," he remarked in wonder as he assessed your vein. "Yes, definitely. You are with child."

It was a revelation you hadn't expected. For years, you had been convinced that you were unable to conceive, but now...

You were carrying a new life. Yours and Satoru's.

You felt like bursting with joy as you made your way to his study. Your heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of happiness. Above anything else, you were eager to share this news with him—

...until everything you had known turned on its axis once again.

Right before you went past the ajar door, you saw a glimpse of your husband and his most trusted confidant, overhearing snippets of their conversation:

"Satoru, however you look at it, this is tantamount to declaring war," Suguru sighed, clearly at odds with his perspective. "It's not wise."

"We can finally put an end to them this way," Satoru's tone was steely as he moved a chess piece across the map, positioning it on the border between east and west. "No better time than now."

"The Empress will face the greatest backlash from this. They'll accuse her of being vengeful enough to provoke an attack on her home country—"

"On the contrary, her presence will encourage those still loyal to her to defect. That's why I have her here. We need defectors—"

You let out a choked gasp, backing away from the door in shock. For one good minute, you refused to comprehend what Satoru was implying.

. . .

. . .

Did your new husband... marry you for his own hidden agenda?

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING SEUNGCHEOL INCLUDES…. — sfw

• sugar daddy or boyfriend? (the answer is both.)

• the definition of a REAL MAN. no one has ever treated you with as much respect or given you as much love as seungcheol has.

• you're his pretty little passenger princess and he's your personal chauffeur.

• mom and dad of the group, duhhhh.

• he would drop anything and everything just to give you his undivided attention, no matter how important it is.

• yes. he would still love you if you were a worm.

• he would definitely give you his bank card without a second thought. it would also be linked to your phone, he insists on you using it always and would throw a fit when you don't.

• you would also give him your card at times and he always takes it without a fight, but would never use it.

• would take you out on dates in which you can dress up pretty and maybe dine at a fancy and EXPENSIVE restaurant. don't be fooled though. he also pays attention to the little things so if you're into books, he's taking you to a library themed restaurant. if you like animals, he's booking a ticket to orlando and ya'll are going to the rainforest cafe or something.

• you would never have to lift a finger ever again.

• he would wash your car, fill it up with gas, and take it to go get serviced without any complaints.

• he would burn down the world for you.

• he always puts you first. if he had to pick between you or the company (if they ever made him choose) he doesn't even need to think, it would be you every time.

• also your body guard ! any social gathering ya'll attend, he always has his eyes on you no matter how far away you are from him.

• times in which you do drive yourself, ya'll are definitely the type of couple to have life 360 on each other. he would text you saying to slow the fuck down if you're speeding.

• no matter how much you insist he goes to sleep and no matter how late you're getting home — it could be 4 in the morning, he will ALWAYS wait up for you.

• he has the habit of buying you anything you even slightly mention. he also pays close attention to the things you look at when out shopping together and they would show up delivered to your apartment the next day. he would take the heat from you, but still would continue to spend his money on you.

• when you have a bad day, he is already there with open arms ready to give you the biggest bear hug and shield you from the rest of the world.

• whenever you two go out together, he always has a hand on your back to guide you through crowds or just so everyone knows that you're off limits.

• if you ever lose during game nights with friends or really anywhere, he would do the penalties for you!

• he always makes sure you're on the inside when walking near a street.

• if you ever doubt yourself or feel insecure, prepare for a long serious conversation with lots of tears because he WILL NOT be having any of that. no. not when he thinks you're one of the most beautiful, talented, and honorable people he knows.

• you have never felt so safe and secure than when he's around.

• he will constantly be saying "i love you." definitely the type to call you back immediately if you forget to say it and hang up.

• he has a personal agenda out for revenge against anyone who hurts or disrespects you in any type of way.

• he will be your designated driver for not only you BUT your friends as well during girl's night out.

• he may be competitive, but when it comes to you, he would let you win just so he can see a smile on your face.

• says he CAN'T (won't because he's stubborn) fall asleep if he's not cuddling you.

• he becomes the softest most kindhearted person in the world when it comes to you.

• he gets jealous easily, but he trusts you with his whole heart so he doesn't dwell on it for too long.

• when it comes to arguing, no matter if he was in the right or wrong, he is always the first to apologize. definitely the type to get you chocolate, flowers, and ALWAYS gets you a teddy bear after.

• would make you sit on his back when doing pushups or would give you a piggy back ride when he is doing pull-ups !

• he LOVES when you wear his clothes. you would always find his shirts or hoodies on your side of the closet and be like "hmm, how did this get here?" ask your boyfriend.

• rarely ever calls you by your name. always calls you baby or something cute. he also insists that you don't call him seungcheol. he will pout if you do.

• definitely impressed your parents right off the bat. your family absolutely adores him and your parents treat him like a son.

• he would tease you by giving you a hug when he's all sweaty after practice.

• he INSISTS on picking you up EVERYDAY after work.

[lyonnerileyauthor]

the prince married you on a warm summer day under cherry blossoms. he called you his most precious thing, and kissed you as if you were the only two people alive. perhaps he wasn’t very gentle with you on your wedding night, but that was how things are, or so your handmaid said.

it was when he began to turn away from you in the night that you felt the frigid wind of change. you had come from another land, another kingdom, and given up everything you knew. should you ever die, it would all fall to him.

on a brisk winter walk, the prince turns to you under that very same cherry tree, now withered like an old crone’s hand. the knife shines in the light reflected off the snow as he drives it into your chest. while blood drips from your lips, he leaves you for the wolves to find.

you beg and plead for this not to be the end. you want revenge.

that is when He comes, stepping through a gash in the world.

his horns are tall and straight, his features both those of a man and a wolf. behind him flows a long, black cape, only partially disguising his naked body. fur rolls down from his hips to his cloven hooves.

“so intent on living.” he bends down over you, tracing the blood that dribbles down your face. “and what would you do, should I give you another chance?”

the words come out a gurgle. “I would kill him.”

this clearly pleases him. he licks the blood off of you, delighting in the taste. at last his mouth settles over yours, his tongue sliding between your lips. it is soft and yet demanding, delicious and sinful.

all at once, fresh breath fills your lungs. you sit up in the snow, and though your dress is soaked with your blood, no wound remains at all. he helps you to your feet, never once letting go of your hand.

“you made a promise,” he says in your ear, nibbling your lobe. “don’t forget.”

it is easy to find the prince where he sleeps in his bed. with the same dagger, you pry open his flesh and withdraw his beating heart. it is a gift to your new lover.

He is pleased with your work, and rewards you with his thick cock. he is gentle in a way the prince wasn’t, but never relenting in his claim on your pleasure. with the deed done, he takes you back to hell with him, where you can be a princess once more.

[gojoest]

“KEEP YOUR PRETTY EYES SHUT” — gojo satoru

MDNI, f! reader, established relationship, somno, fingering, unprotected sex, pet names (baby, pretty, my love), 1k, being sent on a mission out of town satoru agonizes over the fact he has to spend another night without you in his arms, therefore he comes back home earlier than planned — in the middle of the night, while you’re sleeping soundly, dressed only in his shirt

satoru endured exactly 46 hours away from you, almost two whole days — which to him felt like two months, or even more. the higher-ups had sent him to a mission out of town, on the pretext that, as the strongest sorcerer, he was the only one fit to deal with it. the case required his presence, the higher-ups had said, which eventually, not to his surprise, turned out to be out of true. at times like this it felt like sending him on away missions was a way for the higher-up to take revenge on him for always meddling with their decisions. those bastards had certainly found his weak spot.

when he came back, it was the middle of the night. the lights in the house were off, indicating that you were already sound asleep, which he already knew — you were dozing off during your hour-long call earlier to say good night. he was supposed to return in the morning but hearing your sweet sleepy voice on the other side of the line, telling him you love him and how you were wearing his shirt to sleep again tonight, made his stomach in knots from longing to see you, and he missed you all the more. agonizing over the fact he had to sleep another night without you in his arms, he found himself already packing to leave and go back home, to you.

and there you are at last — right before his eyes, a sleeping beauty in his bed. despite the darkness filling the room, satoru could see you clearly — lying on your back, lips slightly slick with spit, chest moving up and down, nostrils slightly flaring and matching your breathing pattern, hair messy from all the tossing and turning, and a pinkish hue on your cheeks. were you thinking of him, too?  in your sleep? is this why your cheeks were all red? did you miss him as much? — he thinks while creeping forward, careful enough not to make any sound as his feet move on the wood, not to let any of it creak.

he slowly sits on the bed, hooking two fingers underneath the edge of the blanket covering your body and pulling it back, cautiously peeling the cover back from your legs and setting it aside, to take a good look at what’s hiding beneath.

he was only supposed to tuck himself in, next to you, take you in his arms and fall asleep to your scent filling his lungs. but you, although unintentionally, were working against him. the shirt of his you were wearing had sometime along the night ridden up while you were sleeping, revealing your beautiful skin up to your belly which allowed satoru a perfect gaze between your legs.

“come on, baby. really now? so unfair…”, he huffs under his nose, his cheeks starting to burn hot, “just my shirt — and no panties?!”, lips parting slightly as he’s taking in the surprise before his eyes, your bare pussy stirring ideas in his head. both heads, actually.

“fuck”, he whispers; he’s getting hard.

he sucks two of his long digits into his mouth, getting them wet enough before putting them between your inviting legs. his free hand unbuckling his slacks to rub his palm on his growing cock, spreading the precum already gathered at the tip along the entirety of it. getting himself all wet and sticky for you before he does the same with you, too.

satoru starts from the bud of your clit, touching it very carefully, pressing on it with the tip of his finger.

“nghh…”, you sigh in your sleep, eyelids still closed but legs parting further at his touch.

“shh…”, he hums, “it’s okay, my love”, stroking down the sides of your cunt before pushing a digit in, and then slowly — another one, too, spreading your lips, exposing the openness of your hole and the wetness glistening there.

“keep sleeping, my love”, he speaks quietly. his fingers pushing themselves deeper in your cunt, playing and rubbing at its walls and earning sweet sleepy moans from the low in your throat. his mouth hangs open, goes dry at the feeling of your warmth inside, the way you welcome him and clench around his fingers, even in your sleep. “shit, baby. now i have to do it”, he groans quietly, his other hand now stroking his throbbing cock more furiously. he wants his dick to feel it, too; his hand is not doing it for him anymore, he needs to sink it deep inside of you.

“i just wanted to come home to you and cuddle you to sleep, but now…”, satoru huffs through a hearty pant, stopping his ministrations to slowly climb on top of you, between your legs, moving them apart with his hands sticky from your both of your fluids, one covered in you, and the other — in him.

“but now i want to cuddle myself in and come in you, too”

satoru couldn’t handle the temptation that is you anymore; his cock so fucking hard, he couldn’t stand it any longer. and you’re just right there — open and easy for him, eager for it even, despite not being awake. “shit, it’s all your fault, you know?”, he growls, slowly rubbing the tip against your wet entrance, up and down the length of it a few times — “messing with me like this..” — before thrusting into you, hands pressing and sinking into the plush of your thighs, whimpering at the tight clutch around him, that wonderful heat, the sweetness and wetness of your pretty pussy; his pussy.

“aghh..” you choke out and your eyes flutter open, suddenly overwhelmed and awakened by the fullness filling your cunt, “s-satoru.. nghh.. what are you d—”, you gasp in surprise, “are you fucking me?”

“shh..”, he presses your lips shut with a finger, “keep your pretty eyes shut and leave it all to me”

[toxicanonymity]

EVERY INCH 3.

4.4k words, m!ghostface x f!reader

Every inch 🔪 Every inch 2 🔪 MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: Ghostface watches you and calls you. He gets bored, and one of your friends gets killed. You try to swear ghostface off, but he stalks you. You want revenge.

A/N: THANK YOU for all the love. Masked Ghostface, inspired by canon gfs & night walks. HC who you want. Enough recap in the first paragraph to read as a one shot.

WARNINGS: I8+ noncon p in v, exhibitionism, voyeurism, gun play, choking, degradation, slut shaming, drugs, creampie, noncon breeding, phone sex, masturbation, knife play, a modicum of canon-typical plot/violence. Gf calls himself daddy. DEAD DOVE. NO USE OF Y/N. Starts in GHOSTFACE POV.

You aren't doing yourself any favors by thinking about him every time you get off. You should get on tinder. Go on another date. Get a boyfriend. But there's too much now. You've got a video of him whimpering with his cock out after you had your way with him, and a picture of him with cum all over his robe a minute later. And then there's the mirror pic he took in your bathroom. He's behind you, holding you naked in front of him.  There's a look of arousal on your face, and you must be so ashamed, but you keep coming back to look at it every night. . .and you're not the only one. 

Ghostface air dropped it to himself right after he took the pic. You should really be more careful with your settings. And your blinds, and your curtains. But you don't wanna be more careful, do you?  You've got everything the cops could need to put him away. You even had his DNA, and you kept it to yourself. Allll to yourself. And you’d like to have more of it, wouldn't you? It's fascinating, really, how bad you want his cock. 

You haven't heard from him in weeks, but he still comes by every once in a while.  He sees your neighbor check in on you, and you keep looking at the time on your apple watch until he leaves.  He sees you try on your slutty Halloween costumes– your backside looks best in that tight ass nurse dress, but god damn, your tits in that pleather.  What a pretty pussy you are. Meow.  He sees you get dressed for bed, and just in time. 

You check your phone and glance out your bedroom window before you take out your vibrator.  Ghostface takes out his cock and lifts his mask to spit on it. This is his season, you know. You must think about him all the time. Every time you see one of those phony Stab costumes. Every time you carve a pumpkin.  He lets you get a head start building to your climax. God damn, you want that cock, and you do an awful job hiding it when you see the call from a restricted number.  You look at your phone, biting your lip, and let it ring for a few seconds before you wet your lips and answer it. But you don't say anything.  Ohh, playin’ hard to get, are ya?

Ghostface admires the stiffness of his cock in his hand and strokes it while he watches you try not to speak first.  It's quite the game of chicken–at least a full minute of silence. He breathes heavier as he strokes himself, and then he hears the buzz of your toy. 

"Mmm, good kitty."

"What do you want?" Your breathing is heavy, too. 

"Wanna know how bad ya want this cock."

"Is your cock all you think about?"

He breathes a laugh. "That'd make two of us, wouldn't it?" 

You scoff, still touching yourself, teasing your clit with your vibrator.  

"Yeah that's it," he pants, and you arch your back. "Come for daddy."  You come so fast it's pitiful. 

You're easy. Too easy. He's getting bored. 

You're a bad, bad girl, and he wants to find out how bad. You know, he's never much cared for your "friend" Marla. He suspects you don't either, based on the way you tense at her hug in the bookstore.

—-----you-------

A DILF cop comes by your house. Must be new to the force since you've never seen him. You're used to them checking on you. The COP asks if he can come in, probably trying to be thorough,  you think.  But he asks you to take a seat, and he sits down next to you on your sofa.  When he has trouble meeting your eyes, your pulse quickens. 

He knows. He must know somehow. He knows you're a sick fuck who has phone sex with ghostface and gets off to his dick pics every night. Maybe he even knows you fucked him. He might even know you forced him. You're blanking on excuses if they find the photos in your phone. The cop leans forward and his biceps strain the short sleeves of his tan uniform.  He wrings his large, veiny hands as he turns his head to look at you.  Finally, his big brown eyes meet your gaze, and he tells you, "He's back. Got a crime scene down the block"

The relief lasts about ten seconds, and then you don't have to feign your horror. The blood rushes from your head to your pounding heart. You foolishly thought his killing days might be behind him. 

"Officer. . ." 

"Call me Javi."

"How do you know it's him, Javi?" You challenge him. 

"You really wanna know?" He raises his eyebrows at you. 

"It's him, sweetheart." He puts a big, warm hand on your upper back, then slides it up to squeeze your shoulder. "Got someone who can stay with ya?"

You take a few seconds to answer, then whisper, “yeah.” 

"Well, if not . . . " he sighs and leans way back on the sofa to reach into his uniform pants for his wallet. "Got a pen?" 

He writes his personal number on a business card and leaves it with you.  As you let him out the front door, sirens are wailing. 

Later, you see the crime scene online. Marla isn't just dead, she's stabbed, slit, and bled dry. The water runs red in the fountain you pass every day on the way out of your neighborhood.  A needed reminder of the sicko you’re dealing with. 

Over the next few days, you delete the ghostface photos and the video. You get a call from a restricted number and don’t answer it. You get a text from an unsaved number: don’t tell me you thought I changed. 

You delete it. When you’re leaving the neighborhood one day, you spot Javi in an unmarked car. When you get to your destination, you text him “why are you following me?” 

Like a boomer, he calls you instead of texting back.  You don’t answer. Then he replies, “Why don’t you have company? You shouldn’t be alone.” 

You send back, “If I have company, will you leave me alone?”

“I can give you some space, sure. But I have a job to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Keeping you safe.”

—--

You’re not going to let ghostface control your life. You don’t know what would happen if you ran into him now, and you try not to think about it, although you do find yourself going into the trash folder on your phone to look at what you deleted. You make plans to go out with friends. It’s the first weekend of October, and there’s a huge Halloween festival. You put on your nurse costume.

An hour before your friends arrive, your doorbell rings. You look at your app and it’s Javi. Well, this is awkward, you think as you finish pulling up your black, thigh-high fishnets. You answer the door and let Javi in, trying not to let your eyes linger on the way his arms stretch his sleeves. You decline to sit down. 

“Look, if you’re gonna go out, you should carry this,” he says, then looks you up and down and his gaze lingers on your cleavage. You clear your throat. He swallows and gives a subtle smile like yeah so what?  “Gonna wear a purse?” he asks. 

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You roll your eyes. 

You reluctantly change into the cat costume and wear a bat purse. You go out with your friends and everyone gets way too drunk. Your friend Sam gets in an altercation after a frat party, and your other friends have to restrain her and walk her home. You’re tired and you don’t want to deal with it. You insist you’ll be fine since you’re armed.  You decide to walk a couple blocks before you order your ride home so you can wait somewhere with more people around. 

—--ghostface—-

You filthy little slut. Are you enjoying yourself? Ignoring him, playing hard to get, acting like you’re not flattered, then teasing him, prancing around Woodsboro looking like a handjob costs $20. Walking alone through an alley – you really are a dumb bitch, aren’t you? 

Ghostface knows where you’re headed. He’s seen you take this route before, so he gets ahead of you and waits.  He’s vaping in the shadows behind a fire escape in the alley. When he hears the click of your slutty boots, he hits send: a dark alley? lmao. He hears the ding on your phone and the click of your heels slows down right before you reach the fire escape.  no point running, he sends. Then he brings the vape pen under his mask and sucks in a mouth full of smoke, and your phone illuminates your face and your eyes widen.

—--you—--

The alley smells like weed. You’re reading the texts when ghostace appears from behind the fire escape, coming at you with his robe flowing behind him.  He only has one glove on. His gloved hand grabs your throat and he pins you to the wall. You choke and gasp for air. He tilts his mask and a small amount of smoke billows out of the dark mesh at the top of his long, black mouth. He eases up on your throat only to move his hand to your jaw and tighten his grip, squeezing your cheeks to keep your mouth open as the smoke billows thicker and closer. His mask is only an inch from your mouth. You close your eyes and breathe in, and as he releases the smoke into your mouth, your clit throbs.  You've got butterflies in your chest, being close to him again. You cough. 

"Good girl," he says as he relaxes his grip on your jaw.  Then his knee nudges your purse out of the way and wedges your thighs open. 

“Bet ya miss me more than Marla, don’t ya?”

If only he wasn’t right. There’s a fire burning in the pit of your stomach just being close to him. But Javi will probably be here any minute, and you need to put up a fight so they won't be onto you. You abruptly knee ghostface in the groin. He grunts and falls backward only slightly. 

"Bad kitty." He takes you by the throat again as you try to fight back. “Bad, bad girl.” He hasn't brandished his knife, but you know he has it. You can't get your gun out quickly enough. You look at your phone and it flies out of your hand as Ghostface grabs your wrist. 

He lets go of you and picks your phone up off the ground, then walks away, robe trailing behind him as he disappears into the night.  

You try to follow him, but he loses you. The audacity–he shotguns you, gets you all riled up, takes your phone, and leaves you, just assuming you won’t do anything about it. Assuming you’ll chase him. You think about the fountain scene. You think about him leaving you. Rage eclipses your desire. If you see him, you might actually shoot him.  Now all you have is your metro card to get home, and luckily you’re close enough to the train station.  

–-

Scattered groups of drunk college students stumble around, bicker, and laugh. 

The train doors are open and you jog to make it in time, just barely squeezing in before the door closes behind you.  The car is full, but not packed. A Freddy Kruger makes room for you, and you stand with your hand braced on the pole. You get a message on your apple watch, meaning ghostface must be in bluetooth distance. 

always wanted to see you on the pole. 

You look behind you, and there he is, sitting at the back of the car.  You should run, but you’re gonna get your phone back at the very least. There’s too much damage he could do with what’s on it.  As the passengers finish unloading, you discreetly open your purse and put your hand on your gun, then set your sights on ghostface, who’s manspreading and sitting back.  The only other company in the back of the train car is a Michael Myers who looks to be passed out drunk. 

You take out the gun and turn the safety off as you approach ghostface in your slutty cat costume. He pulls back his head and cowers in an exaggerated oh, i’m scared move. He stays quiet, for once. 

“My phone,” you tell him. 

He looks around, pretending like he has no idea what you’re talking about. 

“Now,” you order and put your finger on the trigger. He takes a phone out of his pocket, but it’s not yours. 

“What the hell’s wrong with you,” you ask. The train jolts and you’re propelled onto him.  You brace yourself with your free hand on his strong shoulder, and when you feel his hard muscle, butterflies swarm to your core. If he isn’t going to offer up your phone, you’ll have to find it yourself.  You press the muzzle of the gun into his neck, through the fabric of his mask. He freezes. You reach under his robe and pat him down, finding nothing in the front pockets of his jeans. You should check his back pockets, but first you grab his crotch while you’re at it and laugh when he’s semi-hard. 

“Cock’s the only thing you’re good for, and this is what you’ve got for me?” His mask tilts down, watching you grope him.  You savor the feeling of control. “Worthless,” you spit.  Desire bubbles between your thighs as you feel him harden in your grip. Fuck it, you’re gonna take him one last time. You don’t want the last memory of all this to be him dominating you in your bathroom. You wanna go out on top. You fumble with his button and zipper with your free hand, then command, “Take it out.” 

He tilts his mask at you, then looks behind you as though seeing who’s around. 

“No one’s looking,” you mutter. “Stop fucking around.” You hold the gun to his neck and he urgently takes his hard cock out. You reach down for it. It’s thick and warm in your hand. “Don’t feel half as big as ya look on camera,” you tell him. “Pretty sad.” You spit in your hand and reach for his cock again. “So desperate for my attention,” you mock him. “You’ll do anything, wont ya?”

This is fine, you tell yourself, You’ll tell the cops he forced you, and then you’ll even have his DNA, and they can catch him, and this can all be over. . .after one last ride. 

You put your knees on the seat on either side of him.  You hover over his cock and use your free hand to run the head through your dripping folds, then you sink onto him and bottom out with ease. His cock twitches against your walls, and a shiver races down your spine. Your nipples harden, visible even through your pleather top.  The sheer arousal pisses you off.  He feels too good. A man like this doesn't deserve to be so good at dicking you down, without even trying. Without doing anything.  You move up and down him, and he does exactly nothing. He knows it gets you off. You hate how full he makes you feel. You resent the incomparable pleasure that will linger in your mind, in your whole body, for days. Maybe forever. 

He moans soft enough that the voice changer doesn't pick it up. You wince at the sound of his humanity. 

Something comes over you. “Shut the fuck up,” you tell him as you bring yourself down on his cock again. . “I don't wanna hear your voice." You raise yourself up. "I don’t wanna know who you are." You roll your hips into him.  "I don’t fucking care. I don’t care about you at all," you bite, fucking yourself on his cock, dripping wetter and wetter.  You keep degrading him as you fuck him.  "You’re nothing to me." In your lower belly, a climax is building.  "You’re a faceless cock. Always have been.” He sits motionless as you ride him harder. Maybe it was the weed, but you can’t get enough.

When the train reaches the next stop, you tug down your dress as much as you can and sit still on his cock. You hide the gun between your bodies.

Your watch dings with a notification–an unsaved number. 

how's the 🍆

A shadow eclipses you from behind, and you hear the snap of a picture. Your face goes ice cold. 

"Oh you're a reeeeeal bad girl, aren't ya?" The real ghostface says behind you. All the hair on your body stands up, and your heart pounds as you look at the costume in front of you. The lack of gloves, the quality of fabric, the jeans under it. The cock of a stranger twitches inside you and the gun shakes in your hand. "What the fuck," you mutter. You start to get off the man, but the real ghostface slams you back down on him. 

"Oh don't stop now, kitty. " 

He holds you down on the man's cock. "Lovin’ this Halloween special. sure he is, too. Ain't ya, buddy?" 

"What the hell’s goin' on," the man mutters in a regular voice.

You’re about to berate the man for deceiving you. "You let me,"  then you feel the heavy weight of the gun in your hand and stop short, shame rushing into every blood vessel of your body. 

"Better finish what ya started," the real Ghostface says. "A happy customer won't snitch, right brother?"

When you don't move, Ghostface says, "god damnit," then squats down and wraps his arm around you. "Do I have to do everything?" He lifts you up a little, so the man's cock almost falls out, then drops you back down. He lifts you up and down the man's hard cock, and it's horrifically erotic having Ghostface fuck you on another man's dick. The real Ghostface cock is hard against your back. 

Ghostface adjusts his grip and grabs a tit as he forces you up and down.  The man’s Stab mask tilts down, watching his cock disappear into you again and again. Your lips part, and a moan slips out. 

"Oh, you filthy, filthy girl," Ghostface chides. 

"Shut up," you snap as Ghostface sheaths the man’s cock with you again. 

"Gonna cum for him, pumpkin? Milk his cock?"  

No, God no, this random guy can't cum inside you. Your body stiffens and you shake your head no.

"Oh, c'mon, kitty." 

"No," you whimper.

Ghostface sighs in exasperation and one of his arms leaves your torso for a moment. Then he points his knife at the man you're riding. "Ten seconds." 

Ghostface holds the knife to your throat as he keeps manhandling you on the guy's cock, counting down, "ten," he lifts and lowers you, "nine," stuffing you with the man's cock, "eight,"  and he's only at "seven," when the man flattens his back and arms against the subway seats and shudders as he lifts his hips into you. Ghostface forces you down, and you cry, "no," drowned out by the man's groan as he cums.  You moan at his pulsations. It's sick, disgustingly hot, getting pumped full of this stranger's cum on a subway car with Ghostface holding a knife to your throat. Your spine arches and you begin to convulse, milking the stranger’s cock just like Ghostface told you to. 

"Hellll yeahhh." Ghostface gropes your tit. His cock twitches against your back. He addresses the stranger, "She's hot for a serial rapist, right?" as he lets your weight fully down onto the man. He lets you push yourself off the man, and ghostface holds you by your neck so you won't run.  As the man's cock flops sloppily onto his open jeans, Ghostface tells him, "now get the fuck outta here." The man in the ghostface mask is still zipping up his pants when Ghostface adds, "this one needs a real big cock." Then Ghostface asks you, "don't ya, pumpkin?" And takes the man's seat. 

The train comes to a stop and as the man scurries out of the subway car, he warns other riders not to board the car. He’s removing his mask as the train pulls away, but you don’t get to see him.  Ghostface takes the man's seat and hikes up his robe, revealing his pj pants.  He takes his cock out and manhandles you onto his lap.  You hover. You're not about to hop on his dick, but let’s face it, you’re not gonna put up a fight, either. You're tired. You're confused. You're horny as hell. There must be something in that weed. 

Out the window, everyone is staring as the train slowly pulls away. 

Ghostface hikes your dress all the way up and stares between your legs with the stranger's cum seeping out of you.  

"Look at this mess," he catches the cum with the flat of the knife, cool against your folds. He slowly drags the knife toward himself, then angles it up toward your mound. Then he takes the knife off you.  He wraps his hand around your ass and the handle of the knife rests against your skin.  “Now sit on daddy’s cock.” 

He lifts you onto his cock. He hesitates with his tip notched at your entrance, and you twitch with need. Then he pulls you down, and his thick cock stretches you – a pleasant, easy stretch – as you sink onto him. He's bigger than the cock you just had. 

"What's my favorite movie?" He asks, then begins to move you on his cock. He holds you still. You're dying for friction. "Strangers on a train," he answers for you, and you ignore him.   "Hitchcock's overrated,” Ghostface says. “Now I've got my *own*.” Great, he took a video, too.  This is bad for you, really bad, but all you can think about is the big, hard cock inside you.  He's still not moving, and neither are you.  Your clit is throbbing. You begin to rock your hips as the train slows down . 

Ghostface slaps your ass with his bare hand. "Made for the screen, baby." His hips begin to move under you, finally. You close your eyes, feeling his thick shaft pump in and out of you, sliding with ease through the other man's cum. "Sure can take a cock."  He feels so fucking good.  Why did he have to kill again? Why can't he just fuck you? God his cock feels good. "Bet ya coulda taken us both," ghostface says and his cock twitches inside you. "Ohh, fuck." The train stops. He puts down his knife and takes the gun from you. "Yeah, this hole could take two, no problem." His crude words are making you throb more. You feel people watching from the train window, and your face is hot, but you can't get enough of this cock. "Maybe that's what this filthy cunt needs. Two cocks." Your walls twitch around him. "Ooohhh, like the sound'a that, don't ya?"  You feel an orgasm building in your gut. "Hell yeah, dirty girl."  

The train leaves the station again. “Maybe next time I’ll bring a friend.” he brings the gun to your face. He prods your cheek with the muzzle. Then nudges your lips open and you groan in protest. 

"Give it a kiss, pumpkin'"  You pull your head back and turn your cheek. Your heart is beating out of your chest. Your vision is blurry. Your body is dizzy with pleasure and adrenaline. Ghostface gives up on putting the gun in your mouth. He drags the cool metal down your face, around your neck, to your back, then keeps dragging it down. Then he slouches down in the seat and adjusts your angle on top of him, pulling you tighter against his chest. 

His massive, ungloved hand lifts your ass cheeks out of the way and spreads you wide. He brings you upward, letting most of his cock out, then you feel the cool metal at your dripping entrance. He wedges the cold muzzle of the gun into your pussy right alongside his cock. "Yeah, take it, kitty." 

You groan as he pulls you down on his cock and the gun. What has he done to you? Why is this so hot? "Yeah, knew ya could take two cocks." To your horror, you find your hips rocking. "Fuck yeah," he growls. The barrel of the gun is cool against the back wall of your cunt, and your hole is squeezing his cock tighter now. He wriggles the gun around in a circular motion against his cock. "Ohh yeah."  The train speeds up. "Hold on tight," he warns. He begins to manhandle you on his cock and the gun. You're on the edge. Your asshole tightens and tension swells in your core. 

"Fuck," you whisper. 

He feels it. "Yeah, that's right." You hold your breath. "Cum for me, pumpkin, or I'll make you into pie." Your climax overtakes you and you wince as you clench around the gun and his cock. 

"Goooood giirl," he says with your body jerking around his. "There's daddy's little slut." Wave after wave hits you and your cunt squeezes him and the gun.  He holds you tighter against him and lifts you enough to slide the gun out, leaving your exhausted cunt looser around him. “Yeah, plenty’a room for two.”  You're still having aftershocks. They're not fading, like another one could build. You reach for your clit. "Needy, needy cunt." You rub yourself and he rocks you on his cock until you cum again. 

"Hell yeah," he moans when you clench around him.  Then he erupts inside you with a groan. His cock pulses against your walls as his warm spend mixes with the other man's. "Yeahhh." His cum goes on and on. "Fuck, yeahh." 

As soon as he's finished coming, he pulls you off his lap. He tucks his cock back in his PJs. The train rolls to a stop. 

He pats your lower belly.  “Won’t know who's the father," he chides, "but at least ya know who's daddy."

—

-

Next: EVERY INCH 4

May 2024 update - I have 3 more parts outlined.

-------------------

THANK YOU FOR READING. If you want more parts, reblogs and comments make all the difference.

Now that you know what happens, it's a solid re-read. Especially when reader is degrading him 😭 lmk your thoughts when you come back to reread lol.

if you liked this smut, you could check out raider Joel meanwhile.

Also BTW gasolinerainbowpuddles is responsible for giving me the kink of degradation about unknown paternity starting with the fic liquid gold which is amazing.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Team Betrayal | Red Bull! Reader x Platonic! Grid

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N races for Red Bull but when she's caught out drinking another brand, she enacts her revenge until the Grid outs her snitched.

Apologies but this is a female reader.

Warning: Bad writing. I'm not sure what this is but it was prompted between an energy drink dilemma I had the other day.

There is no timeline for this. Make it up.

Main Masterlist.

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

Swiping away the sweat that ran down the back of her neck, Y/N grinned at the camera, drinking in the euphoric energy enveloping her on all sides.

"Thank you for joining us after such a long day." The interviewer beamed, pleased to have been able to catch the Red Bull racer before debrief started. "How're you feeling? You look absolutely drenched."

"Yes. Max thought he was funny tipping the entire can of Red Bull over my head. I'll wash my hair three times and still go home smelling of the stuff." Y/N joked, dabbing the drop of sticky liquid rolling down her forehead.

Pleased that the conversation had naturally developed down that path, the interviewer smirked at the camera before turning their attention back to you. "So, you've been driving for Red Bull for 2 years now? Is it safe to say you're also a big fan of the drink?"

She laughed nervously, unsure why such an odd question was being asked after a Grand Prix. Usually the media used this opportunity to ask how she felt about losing/her teammate winning. Again. "Who isn't?" Y/N joked.

Whipping out her phone, the interviewer (dressed in traitorous McLaren orange) thrust it in front of her face. The grin from Y/N's face instantly dropped as she squinted against the blinding sun. Disbelief painted her face.

"Where did you get that? That's actually me!"

"One of your fellow racers provided it earlier." The interviewer informed, tucking away the damning photo of Y/N drinking a can of Monster Energy, dressed in her Red Bull racing suit and attempting to hide her behaviour behind a laughing Lando Norris.

"Who?!"

"I'm afraid we're not at liberty to say. We promised confidentiality in favour of the photo," teased the interviewer.

"That's my face." Y/N's eyes darkened challengingly. She leaned into the microphone, staring down the camera. "In that case, those boys won't know a moment of peace until I get my answer."

She straightened just as soon after, smile flickering back into place as she heard her name being called. "Oops, I was meant to be in debrief a minute again. Thanks for talking to me. Catch you later!"

"Thank you for your time." The interviewer called after the retreating navy figure. She turned back to the camera. "Ladies and Gentleman, I think it's safe to say that Y/N Y/L/N is as ferocious off the track as she is on it. I don't know about you but I would not want to be a member of the Grid this evening."

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

The interview went viral.

YourUserName this you? (She retweeted with a pic of Lando wearing a Monster Energy hat, a can of Red Bull in hand)

→ LandoNorris no.

User 1 not Lando deliberately lying about his own face

User 2 oh, no. Lando. What have you started?

User 3 not me checking my phone every 2 seconds to see if Y/N has posted after she vowed vengence.

→ Your User Name 👀👀

User 4 don't drag poor Maxie into this. He's always seen drinking Red Bull.

User 5 she never was good enough for the team, hope they drop her after this.

User 6 may as well just go to McLaren with how much time she spends with them.

OscarPiastri just a warning. I can hear her laughing evilly next door.

YourUserName so just to clear a few things up. I have never bought a Monster Energy in my life.

YourUse Name i am always supplied with them by people who are attempting to remain innocent in this scandal.

PierreGASLY yeah, well. My shoes are cleaner than yours so...

→ LandoNorris you sure showed her.

User 7 not the Grid coming for my girl only to end up fighting for their lives.

User 8 coming for his teammate

User 9 not the whole Grid teasing her for betraying Red Bull

User 10 always knew Max didn't like them. This just confirms

YourUserName not you too. You said you had my back

→ Max33Verstappen this is why you didn't get on the podium

Max33Verstappen not my babies?!

→ YourUserName i may not have a podium but I do have your cats.

→ Charles_Leclerc you're making this worse for yourself

→ YourUserName watch out or Leo's next

→ Charles_Leclerc *horrified gasp*

User 11 alex fighting for his innocence.

User 12 the Grid are feeding us tonight.

User 13 what's the odds that they're fighting for their lives in the gc?

User 14 bet they're compiling a list of times they gave her Monster

→ User 15 trying to figure out who might be next

User we found the snitch

User 2 anyone else see Red Bull lurking in the likes?

LandoNorris @ danielricciardo this is why she didn't respond

Max33Verstappen daniel's currently crying.

redbullracing christian said you have a meeting with PR tomorrow.

→ YourUserName crap.

User 3 can we take a moment to appreciate all the Grid content we got this evening?

→ User 4 and look at how quick Y/N's responses were. Boo was ready for them.

→ User 5 what are the odds they were all sitting next to their phones, terrified every time it buzzed

→ lilymhe can confirm.

[miserycanary]

THE BRICK MAN’S WIFE ᡣ𐭩 previous ⤶

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & model!fem!reader

synopsis: finally meeting the wife

tags: a poor attempt at crack, fluff, a sprinkle of smut

2 weeks have passed since then. After a while of people sending him weird stares and catching a few mumbles of pity for him, plus the insistent questioning from a certain Scot, Ghost kinda got the gist of what was happening. Of course, he was amused but slightly offended that people thought of him like that. Also, at the fact Price didn’t do anything. In fact, he even laughed at him during a night over drinks. Mocking him and pertaining to you as “the imaginary missus”. 

He told you about it one night, sighing as he says he finally figured out why people are giving him stares. 

| “When I get my hands on the Scot,” he grumbles, pushing away strands of your hair while he cradles you in his arms. You chuckle as you feed yourself some popcorn then raise your hand to give some to your husband. “Can you blame them, Si? You don’t talk much.” Playfully rolling his eyes, he scoffs and nuzzles his mouth on your nape where he knows you’re ticklish. “Whatever.”

An opportunity to finally clear up his name arrives when the force decides to go out for drinks, accidentally stumbling upon a set on the streets. They were confused at first, brushing it off but Soap’s gasp stops them. “Look! It’s the LT’s wife,” he hisses to Gaz, motioning to where you are standing. Everyone was stunned because you looked like a heaven’s angel. Dressed in white, adorned with strings of pearls, and glittery makeup. At that moment, both Gaz and Soap momentarily wished that their lieutenant was lying because… holy fuck… you were pretty as shit. 

With the intent of busting Ghost’s “lie” (and a few hidden intentions), they suggested that they wait for you to finish up so that he could introduce the group. 

“Look, they’re done. Go call her!” Gaz bumps Ghost, earning him a glare before it softens when he looks at your direction. Immediately, your eyes met your husband’s then the rest. With a smirk, you whisper something to your manager and run to the group. Before Ghost could greet you, “Hi! Are you guys fans? I’m actually doing a meet and greet today,” you exclaim, holding back laughter when Simon looks at you like you’ve grown two heads.

I mean, what’s wrong with messing with your husband and his friends a little? Of course your little stunt drove Soap and Gaz wild, feeling proud of themselves that they proved you were lying.

Long story short, the two went home smirking while you were getting pounded deep into the mattress by your husband by the end of the night. His “revenge” for pulling that prank on him. 

| “Haaa, can’t believe you let your husband look like a fool,” Simon chuckles, snapping his hips ruthlessly while the sound of skin slapping drowns your mewls and moans. “S-sorry! Ngh– c-c-cumming!” you cry out, your nails digging down on his back while your toes curl. “Nope.” You whine and sob in frustration as you feel your husband’s cock pull out again and your climax dissipating for the nth time, your pussy clenching around nothing in hopes to pull him back in. “Please please please, I’m sorry–” your pleas get cut short by Simon’s fingers pushing deep into your mouth. “Bad girls who fool their husbands don’t get to cum, and takes what they're given” he taunts, pushing back in swift trust, bringing tears into your eyes. 

After that night of torture, you make it up to him by visiting him at the base. Thankfully, Price was the one who greets you first. After telling him that you’re there for Simon, he only chuckles and directs you to their spot. The reaction to seeing you there was immediate. Soap with his eyes bulging out, Gaz with his jaw slacked open, and Ghost with hearts in his eyes. Like a puppy, he runs to you, arms instinctively wrapping around your waist and pulling you in. “Sweetheart,” he greets but was pulled away by Soap. “Hey, mate. You shouldn’y go around grabbing ladies like that,” he frowns, which got a chuckle from you. Deciding to finally help your husband, you squeeze yourself in between the two and pressed a kiss on Simon’s lips which he quickly returned. 

It was like they just witnessed pigs fly. “WAIT, WHAT?” they exclaim in unison, while Price’s laughter echoes. “Right, to clear things up, I am indeed this brick man’s wife,” you giggle, placing your hand on his chest and head on his shoulders. “WAIT, CAPTAIN, YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS?” “Of course he knew,” Ghost butts in. “He was there during the wedding.” Like this couldn’t be any messier, more exclaims and shouts erupted from the two.  "Why didn'y tell us?" Soap asks, feeling betrayed by the Captain witholding this news which only got a shrug as a reply. You chuckle, before offering your hand to them. "It's nice to properly meet you guys. I wanted to mess with my husband when we first met," you explained. When Soap grabs your offering hand, he has to take in a breath. How are you so soft? And so, so pretty.

Gaz takes your hand next, chuckling as he gives you a firm handshake. "Well, it worked. So, is it true you're the one cooking those lunches?" Your cheeks redden as your hand pulls back, hiding behind you. "Um, yeah... I'm not good at cooking but got signed up for a cooking thing. The first one I made led to Si being sick."

The day passes as you share stories with them.

At the end, Ghost was boasting with a smirk, Gaz and Soap feeling heartbroken and dejected inside, while Price just watches in amusement. 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: sorry if it's bad. I rushed it because I don't think I'll have time anytime soon to post regularly. I hope people like this. <3 There’s a different one to this but I don’t know if people will like that version. Special thanks to @thychuvaluswife and 📩 for their ideas! This was also requested. 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask if open!

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check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[angelsandstxrs]

obsessed with a private, not secret relationship for azriel and his mate.

warnings: 18+, painfully inaccurate to anything acotar, badly written brainstorming, no usage of Y/N so probs a bit confusing at times, a sprinkle of smut, multi pov, not a main part — but mentions of alcohol, (let me know if there’s anything else) words: ~3.5k

He never spoke of her. Ever. Not even to his brothers.

Partly because neither Rhysand nor Cassian had found their mates, and he wasn’t particularly fond of rubbing it in their faces. But mostly because of the nature of his job, and the people wanting to harm him.

Before her, he hadn’t cared. Younger Azriel had welcomed the challenge of someone trying to get their revenge on him. Had more than once sought it out. After her, there was only one way to harm him, and that was through her. And if no one truly knew what she meant to him, even his own brothers, she would be safe. It was his reasoning for keeping her so close to his heart.

-

“Do you think they even fuck?” Cassian’s slurred whisper was both harsher and louder than he probably intended, caused by the hearty amount of drinks he’d consumed through the night. It was the start of summer, and they’d had a dinner party for some guests at the House of Wind. Azriel and his mate had arrived together, but as usual had kept distance to each other all night, not even sharing a word with one another. It was honestly impressive how little they could seem to care about each other after being mates for so many years.

With Cassian’s question at the forefront of his mind, Rhysand remembered the times he’d called for the spymaster, sometimes in dark hours of the night, and been met by even shorter responses than usual, often breathless, gruff. The spymaster could’ve been training, sparring, honing his swordsmanship, or more likely partaking in other activities that had nothing to do with his role to the court. But looking at Azriel and his mate now, it wasn't hard to believe the former.

“No. They probably shake hands, and then go to their separate bedrooms.” He drawled quietly, idly aware of the shadows curling around his brother’s frame.

Cassian snorted out a laugh, broad shoulders shaking with the effort to hold back the sound. Rhysand’s own lips lifted in an amused smirk, sparing a glance back at the shadowsinger to make sure he still hadn't acknowledged their conversation. He hadn’t, and when Rhysand turned his gaze back to Cassian, there was something challenging swimming in his brother's dark half-lidded eyes.

“Let’s try to make one of them break. Whoever does it first wins. Loser has to fly naked to the mountains and back.”

The smirk on Rhysand’s face widened. Even if it was probably below him and small-minded, the idea of breaking Azriel’s stoic and collected facade was dangerously tempting.

“Deal.” He clasped Cassian’s hand firmly, sealing the bet.

-

A week later they were all at Rita’s. 

She had been dancing with her friends for what felt like hours when she excused herself to grab a drink. The bar was busier than usual, most likely an effect of the High Lord’s presence. She waited for her turn, fanning her hand to her face in an attempt to cool herself down, the lone cold shadow sweeping over her back doing as much as it could to help her. Even in the minuscule dress she was wearing, she was still sweating from dancing pressed tightly together with the rest of the bustling crowd. Right as she grabbed the attention of a bartender, the relief of an iced beverage minutes away, someone squeezed into the sliver of space between her and the person next to her, effectively blocking her view.

“Hello, beautiful.” The tall fae male gave her a blinding smile and rested his arm on the counter, crowding her in. 

She blinked up at the stranger in confusion, before turning her head to wave for the bartender. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” He continued, leaning into her space again. 

The bartender had continued serving another guest, and all the others were at the very far end of the other side of the bar, out of her reach. 

She turned her attention back to the unknown male who was still giving her one of those charming looks that he probably thought made him handsome, and sighed.

“You know what? Yes, you can buy me a drink. Something cold, please.” She forced a smile when the male’s face lit up. He turned quickly, long arms and tall statue gathering the attention of one of the bartenders that she’d failed at signaling. Whilst his attention was elsewhere, more cold whisking darkness suddenly crept up her legs, joining the one already on her in comfortably wrapping around her.

After the male had ordered, he focused on her again, forcing her attention from the familiar shadows.

“I have to say, you are one of the most beautiful females I’ve ever seen.” His arm was back on the counter, nearly grazing her cleavage that was left mostly exposed with the low neckline of her dress. She glanced up at him with an unimpressed look on her face, finding him staring straight down at the swell of her breasts.

Before she could call him out on it, the bartender pushed their drinks up on the bar. She snatched one of the already condensed glasses and left some money on the bar before quickly making her escape.

“Thank you,” She offered a tight smile, raising her glass. “I have a mate.”

His charming grin fell, eyes widening on her, not even noticing his drink getting stolen by another thirsty guest.

“But they said-,”

She didn’t stay to hear the rest of whatever he had to say, already pushing into the crowd on the dance floor again.

In one of the few booths, Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel were in a game of cards when Cassian’s gaze had drifted over the room. It didn’t take Azriel long to catch his brother’s straying attention, eyes lifting from the cards in his hands to find the Lord of Bloodshed watching the crowd with a silently amused expression.

“Already giving up, Cass?” He teased, reaching for his drink on the table.

The ghost of a smirk on Cassian’s face solidified, dark eyes narrowing on something further away towards the bar. 

His voice was deceptively light-toned when he exclaimed, “Your girl seems thirsty.” 

Azriel turned his head in the same direction Cassian was staring at, finding her in a heartbeat. She was conversing with another male, the side of her face glowing in the low twinkling lights of the bar, long wavy hair cascading down to her waist and grazing the small of her back. Without really meaning to, his eyes pulled lower, over the tempting curve of her hips and lush backside accentuated in the tight material of the dress she was wearing.

He had picked it out for her tonight for a reason, the way it exposed her thighs and clung onto her every curve had Azriel salivating at the mere sight. Even more so when she turned, the low neckline leaving his jaw aching with the need to sink his teeth into the soft flesh on display. Whilst blatantly staring, he caught the flush spread on her chest and discreetly sent more of his shadows to cling to her, hoping it would help cool her down.

“It is warm in here.” He stated simply, turning back to his brothers who were now both watching him.

“You’re going to let another male buy her a drink?” Cassian’s eyebrows rose to his forehead, wide eyes darting between the bar and Azriel. 

His shadows relayed every piece of information to him, how the idiot at the bar was gawking down her dress, getting closer to her. But also her desperation for a cold drink, her unenthusiastic expression whenever he tried to compliment her, her longing to get back on the dance floor with Mor and her friends.

“She can handle herself.” Azriel shrugged, knowing it was true. He also knew she would signal if she was uncomfortable with the attention, and that his actions would be completely different in that case.

Rhysand shook his head, chuckling under his breath, “I envy you, brother.” 

He didn’t sound like he did. Azriel didn’t point it out.

“You will once I win all your money.” He opted for instead, the corner of his mouth tipping upwards when his brothers returned to the cards in their hands.

-

It was Starfall, and the townhouse was strangely bustling with people. For some reason Rhysand had extended invitations further than the Inner Circle this year, something that had never happened before, to her knowledge at least. Some of her friends from the school she was volunteering at had turned up, so she wasn’t complaining, in fact she’d had a great evening. 

She glanced at the clock hung on the wall. It was nearing midnight, not close enough to have the crowds moving out to the garden, but enough to make her excuse herself from her friends that had been hanging out in the kitchen and make her way towards the living room. 

The sounds of people talking in the bigger room, almost drowned out the instrumental music flowing from the small band Rhysand had hired for tonight. She still took time to send the guitarist a smile, one of her old students from nearing ten years ago. 

Even crowded, the living room in the townhouse held a familiar warmth and coziness she doubted any of the High Lord’s raucous parties could destroy. She slid her gaze over the room as she made her way to the bookcase where Rhysand had stowed away his finest wine. Partly on the lookout to not get caught, and partly to linger her eyes over the presence that had been haunting her peripheral for longer than she cared to admit.

Azriel was stood near one of the large windows facing the Sidra, leaning against the frame with his arms firmly crossed over his chest, hazel eyes cast downwards and mouth quirked up into what she could decipher as a ghost of a polite smile. At first she thought him alone, but then she spotted the smaller statue perched in front of him. A female. 

She stayed near the bookcase and kept her eyes on the pretty brunette as she reached for the wine bottle hidden behind a stack of books. The female kept talking, her glossy plump lips drawn up into a shy smile and cheeks flush with a sheepish blush. It was clear she was nervous, there was no need for Azriel’s spymaster abilities to see it, she kept touching her hair and casting her doe-eyes down to the floor as her blush deepened. 

She almost felt sorry for the poor girl. If anyone knew how intimidating Azriel could be, it was her. But she couldn’t help but linger on the entertainment, taking sips of the perfectly aged wine as the girl kept fluttering her long lashes at her mate. When Rhysand stepped up to her with knowing look on his face, she did nothing but smirk at him over the rim of her glass.

“You’re not going to do anything about that?” He pushed, curiosity swimming in his violet eyes.

She drowned her glass, the smooth cherry liquid warming her insides, and pushed it into the High Lord’s conveniently empty hand. Azriel’s brothers had never understood, always poking to provoke any reaction.

“He knows his way home.” She stated simply, waving her fingers in a small wave before leaving as Rhysand stared after her, baffled and defeated.

She barely made it to the gate before black smoky tendrils started crawling up her strutting legs.

“Leaving so soon?” His deep voice was nearer than she expected, steps silent behind her clicking heels.

“Surprised?” She mused, turning her head slightly to catch a glimpse of the angel of death towering behind her. He was a sight to behold, as usual, dark pants and dress shirt clinging perfectly to his sculpted frame, jacket left open even in the cold winter air, wings as black as the night sky stood proudly behind him, framing the achingly beautiful face she had the privilege to wake up to every morning. The gleaming bond in her chest tightened without meaning to, at the sheer love she felt looking at him.

“Never.” He drawled, long legs catching up to her before she could open the gate leading to the pathway into town. His warm hand stopped her own from pushing down the handle, making her turn her head again to look up at him. 

Azriel had already tilted his head down towards her, the heat of his body bleeding against her back.

“Missed me?” She smiled, reaching her free hand to curl around the back of his neck, gently pulling his head down further.

“Always.” He mumbled, hazel eyes flickering down to her lips as his head lowered slowly. The warmth of his breath washed over her mouth and her eyes were just about to flutter close when she caught movement in one of the big windows facing the Sidra and front lawn. 

“Why are Rhysand and Cassian staring at us?” Her sudden question had Azriel straightening and whirling his head around in the direction she was already looking in.

The two dark silhouettes moved comically fast, scrambling from the window like it hadn’t been abundantly clear that they’d been staring. It took less than five seconds for Azriel’s shadows to dart towards the house and return, eagerly curling around their master’s ears. 

Her brows furrowed in confusion when Azriel’s face went from blatant surprise to recognition, and then landed in an eerily hard set of his jaw.

“What is it?” She inquired softly, making him shake his head and push down the handle to the gate, guiding her onto the path towards town with a palm sprawled over her lower back.

“They’re fucking idiots.” He grumbled, dark eyes fastened on the bridge about to lead them over the Sidra. She was still confused by his reaction, and the conflict of emotions flickering along the bond between them. Anger, frustration and protectiveness, paired with an urge to claim that left her skin heating beneath her coat. His shadows kept twirling around him, relaying information that made his mood sour even further.

She stopped him on the bridge, fully turning towards him to make his now darkened cold gaze land on her. His eyes thawed almost immediately, making way for the golden warmth in the mesmerizing hazel.

“Can we talk about it tomorrow?” She closed the distance between them, hugging her arms around his middle. In her heels she was tall enough to press a kiss to the underside of his clenched jaw, and brush the cold tip of her nose against the column of his throat before leaving lingering kisses there too. If Rhysand and Cassian were still in the window, they would most likely be able to see them, but she couldn’t have cared less. She soothingly traced her palms up his back and murmured softly, “I’d like to go home.”

Azriel relaxed around her, strong arms wound around her frame and crushed her tighter to him. Without warning, he pushed off the ground, wind howling around them as he flew them home.

The next morning Azriel told her about the bet between Rhysand and Cassian, how they had tried to provoke a reaction by lying to people and pointing them in her and Azriel’s direction for months. Some smaller interactions, like how the male working at her favorite bakery had suddenly asked her out on a date, or bigger ones, like that male from Rita’s who Cassian sent her way.

At first she’d laughed, curled up in Azriel’s arms in their shared bed, amused at the thought of Rhysand and Cassian so desperate to see them together that they’d tried to force it. Azriel hadn’t found it as funny, or funny at all.

“I’ll snap their necks.” He’d muttered into her hair, hands digging into her bare hips.

“Then they would win, wouldn’t they?” She’d light-heartedly reminded, drawing shapes over the swirling Illyrian markings on his shoulders.

He’d pulled back, hazel eyes wild with something that made her pulse quicken, a dimpled grin growing on his face. “I have an idea.”

-

Skin slapping against skin reverberated around the room, mixing with lewd wet sounds and shamelessly loud moans. One of her hands were buried in his black soft hair, the other placed on the desk behind her to keep herself upright as Azriel pounded into her with a furious intensity.

He grunted against her neck, parted mouth gliding over the delicate curve of her shoulder before he sank his teeth into the skin, forcing a loud gasp from her at the sudden flash of pain.

“That’s it, angel,” His breaths grew heavier as her cunt clamped down on him. “So fucking tight-, you feel so fucking good-,”

His large hands gripped the fat of her backside tighter, forcing her body to meet his unrelenting powerful thrusts. Heat grew in her core with every precise slam of his cock against that soft spot inside her. She was so close, head tipped back, nails carving into the back of his neck and polished wood of the expensive desk below her, when the door to the office opened.

“I don’t know where he is. He wasn’t home-,” Cassian’s loud booming voice stopped abruptly, and if she hadn’t been dizzyingly near from tumbling over the edge, she would’ve turned her head to laugh at the dumb-struck look on both Rhysand and Cassian’s faces.

Instead, her back arched out of pure instinct, legs tightening around the hips still driving into her to draw him as close as possible as her cunt began to clench around him.

“She’s about to come. So you better get the fuck out.” The growled warning from her mate had her clinging onto him tighter, the unbearable heat in her core unfurling in a flash when he used the grip on her backside to slam her cunt down on his cock, spearing her hard and deep.

She wasn’t sure if Rhysand and Cassian made it out in time. Truthfully, she didn’t care.

She came with a strained moan of his name, cunt squeezing and fluttering around him as he followed with a heavy groan against the mark on her shoulder. Warmth flooded her core with every instinctual thrust of his hips, the bond between them purring with satisfaction at the claiming.

It took her a few moments to come back to her own, bare chest heaving with panted breaths as he buried his face into her neck, bruising grip on her backside loosening to a possessive caress.

“I love you.” She smiled dumbly, carding her fingers through his hair.

He laughed, a low and deep melodic sound that never failed to make her heart skip a beat. Lifting his head, a soft smile grazed his face as he looked down at her. A hand slid up her spine, gently tangling in the hair at the back of her head to tilt her face upwards to him.

“I love you more.” Azriel breathed out, before his mouth lowered onto her own. The kiss was devouring, fueled with heat and passion. His cock that had barely softened inside her, hardened again, leaving her shallowly rocking her hips on the desk to ease the need stirring in her core.

His hand in her hair tightened, tilting her head back further as his kisses trailed lower over her bared throat.

“Can you be quiet?” He sucked a bruising mark to the spot below her ear that always rendered her brainless.

“Yes-,” she gasped, clinging onto him and rocking her hips faster, more desperately, as he continued to lick burning kisses down her throat towards her breasts. “Please, Azriel. Oh, gods-,”

The rest of her pleas caught in her throat when his hips pulled back at the same time his hot, wet mouth closed over her puckered nipple, tongue tracing the sensitive peak as his cock thrusted up inside her again.

Her legs were shaking when she made her way out of the office, every step adding to the sore ache already forming deep in her core. She refused to show any of it though, holding her head high and feet steady as she opened the door to find Rhysand and Cassian waiting outside. 

“Have a good meeting.” She smiled brightly at them both. Guilt was written all over Cassian’s face, ears sheepishly red and dark eyes darting to Azriel lingering in the doorway behind her. 

Rhysand was harder to read, but he almost seemed to bow his head as she passed, clearing his throat before sounding unfamiliarly embarrassed, “Thank you.” 

Azriel’s brothers left them alone after that. After a particularly cold trip to the mountains and back they agreed that they didn’t want to know what went on behind closed doors, and was more than happy to let her and Azriel be.

[gliideren]

ana sofía herrera tag dump !!

[sachermorte]

so the thing about english is that people think it's so divorced from other germanic languages based on like. words. I've even heard people try to insist that english is a romance language. because of that whole messy business in 1066 with out-of-wedlock willy and his band of naughty normans. and now a good chunk of the vocabulary is french or whatever and they're prestigious so not using them makes you sound like a rube and this and that and the other

and yes william the conqueror will never be safe from me. I will have my revenge on him. he fucked up a perfectly good germanic language is what he did. this will be me in hell

but the thing is that most words in, say, german do have a one to one english equivalent. not all hope is lost, for those who still dare to see it. it's just that you 1066pilled normancels aren't looking in the right place

dog (en) ≠ der Hund (de) but der Hund (de) -> hound (en)

look with your special eyes. that one was easier. not all of them are this intuitive because of semantic narrowing and broadening and waltzing and hokey-pokeying and whatever else. I'll give you a few more

animal (en) ≠ das Tier (de)

aha! you think. I've got him on the ropes now.

but then

das Tier (de) -> deer (en)

nooooo!! you whine and cry in gay baby jail. the consonants are different!!! listen to me. listen, I say, putting both my hands on your shoulder. /t/and /d/ are the same sound. you just put your voice behind one of them.

nooooooooo!! you wail. deer are animals but not all animals are deer!!! listen to me. LISTEN. they used to be. animals used to be deer. that's just what we called them. it was a long time ago. it was a weird time in all our lives. it's okay.

let's try for a verb this time

to die (en) ≠ sterben (de) but sterben (de) -> to starve

same principle with the consonants, we're just changing a stop (where we completely stop the airflow and then let it through) for a fricative (where we still let some air go through. idk where it's going. maybe to its job or something.)

to starve used to mean generally to die, not just to die of malnourishment. we do that a lot. we take one word for a lot of things and make it mean one thing. or take one word for one thing and make it mean a lot of things. this is common and normal.

"okay but roland," you say, suddenly coming up with an argument. "what about tree? trees are super common. I don't think we'd fuck around too much with that. the german word is baum! what about THAT?"

"when did you learn german?" I ask, but then decide it isn't relevant right at this very moment. but fine.

tree (en) ≠ der Baum (de) but der Baum (de) -> beam (en)

beam??? you ask incredulously. beam???? BEAM?????? you continue with the same tone and cadence of captain holt from brooklyn 99.

yes. beam. like the evil beams from my eye I'm going to hit you with if you don't stop shouting.

but the vowels!!! you howl.

listen. listen to me. the vowels mean nothing. absolutely nothing. they're fluid like water. it got raised in english.

"WHAT DOES RAISED MEAN"

it doesn't matter right now. they were raised better than you, at least. stop shouting. open your eyes and see what god has given you. they're the same word.

"they're NOT the same word. they mean different things!"

we've been over this. they didn't used to. a beam was (and is) a long solid piece of wood. much like the long solid piece of wood I showed your mother last night.

FAQ:

Q: could english be some kind of germanic-romance hybrid?

A: do you become a sexy thing from the black lagoon just because you dressed up as one for halloween? english may have gotten a lot of vocabulary from norman french, but its history and syntax are distinctly germanic. that's what we base these things on.

Q: okay but what does it matter? this doesn't actually affect my day to day life

A: you come into my house? you come into my house, the house of an autistic man living in vienna austria and studying english linguistics and you ask me what does it matter? sit back down. I was going to let you go but now I have powerpoints to show you

Q: you're stupid and wrong and gay and a bad person

A: I know it's you, Willy

[voguesriot]

DON’T HURT YOURSELF ✹ luke castellan

( summary ) social media au where your boyfriend became the asshole everyone warned you he’d be and now you’re looking for revenge (& luke is a down bad loser w no game)

( pairings ) luke castellan x fem aphrodite counsellor!reader

DIRECT MESSAGES

sarahdawson: hey girly ik we’re not like close or anything but something happened last night that i need to tell you about

sarahdawson: so i was getting strawberries yesterday and max was there and he was being really weird and like flirty and i’m so sorry i feel like such a horrible person even though i turned him down right away but he tried to kiss me and i hit him and then i went back to my cabin but i had to tell you

sarahdawson: i’m so sorry

yourusername: THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE I KNEW HE WASNT WORTH SHIT

yourusername: this is clarisse btw i took her phone

yourusername: (me again) thank you for telling me sarah it rlly means a lot 🫶

sarahdawson: if it makes any difference you’re way too hot for him and literally anything you need (even rigging archery lessons so the new kids take shots just as he’s walking by), i’m your girl x

♫ Don’t Hurt Yourself by Beyoncé feat. Jack White

♡ liked by silenabeauregard , connorstroll , and others

yourusername love god herself (love u mama) 💋

sarahdawson AHHH YOURE SO PRETTY

yourusername THANK YOU GORGEOUS 🥹🥹

clarisselarue too good for anyone 😮‍💨

silenabeauregard prettiest girl everrrr

chrisrodriguez pur girlie

yourusername what.

chrisrodriguez gods forbid a man expresses an ounce of girlish whimsy

yourusername nooo queen i appreciate you thank you

seaweedbrain you ate ‼️‼️‼️

seaweedbrain ate my dessert*

seaweedbrain it’s all fun and games until you end up stealing from the youth

seaweedbrain count your days miss counsellor

yourusername my girl sally should’ve kept you on a leash for a bit longer because you are rabid my love

seaweedbrain I WAS NEVER ON A LEASH WTF

racheledare STUNNA GIRL STUNNA GIRL I CHOOSE U BABY OVER A HUNDRED GIRLS

yourusername ME AND U 4EVERR 🙏🙏

lukecastellan nice dress!!

this comment was deleted.

clarisselarue lukecastellan i saw that.

lukecastellan why are you so ominous

clarisselarue why are you such a loser

lukecastellan have you ever been chill for a day in your life

clarisselarue have you ever known the loving touch of a woman

chrisrodriguez FOUL 😭😭😭

♫ Feather by Sabrina Carpenter

♡ liked by drewtanaka , pipermclean , and others

[ tagged: yourusername , clarisselarue , silenabeauregard , drewtanaka , hazellevesque , pipermclean ]

sarahdawson girls night w my favs 💘

silenabeauregard APOLLO CABIN 🔛🔝

yourusername FORREALLL

yourusername best night i’ve had in a long time i love u all sm ☹️🫶 ( liked by sarahdawson , clarisselarue , silenabeauregard , drewtanaka , hazellevesque , pipermclean )

silenabeauregard MY GIRLSSSSS

wisegirll prettiest girls in the world 💕💕

clarisselarue sarah girl love ya but maybe leave the singing to ur siblings 🙏

sarahdawson RUDE

yourusername sarahdawson dw baby i loved our duet xx

sarahdawson we simply are destiny’s child

drewtanaka yk who is shaking in his boots

seaweedbrain oh yeah cool i didn’t even want an invite it’s totally chill

yourusername calm down lil guy maybe when you’re older

clarisselarue if zeus doesn’t smite his ass before he gets the chance 😭

seaweedbrain clarisselarue I BEAT YOUR DADS ASS HES LITERALLY A DEADBEAT DADDY

wisegirll too far

seaweedbrain sorry clarisse

lukecastellan yourusername we could hear you singing all the way in hermes ☠️

yourusername NO THATS SO EMBARRASSING WHICH SONG

lukecastellan i think it was never lose me or smth

clarisselarue bros acting like he hasn’t been thinking ab it nonstop

yourusername lukecastellan i’m so sorry for any pain i’ve caused

chrisrodriguez AYY BRO MAKING MOVES

groverunderwood you call those moves? 😭

chrisrodriguez baby steps are still steps let me celebrate my guy in peace 😔

♫ Heartless by The Weeknd

♡ liked by connorstroll , and others

maxwalsh never been better

clarisselarue oh that’s not ☠️

lukecastellan this what you’ve been doing instead of coming to sparring?

maxwalsh it’s a better challenge

drewtanaka THE CLAWS ARE OUT MEOW

yourusername just posted to their story!

DIRECT MESSAGES

lukecastellan: you look really pretty

[kitten4sannie]

ᴀ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ᴀᴅᴊᴜꜱᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ

ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ/ᴀᴜʀᴀʟɪꜱᴍ ➠ ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ

pairing: personal trainer! yeosang x fem! reader

genre: pure smut

summary: you love your weekly visits with your personal trainer. he always stretches you out just right.

w.c: 2.4k

warnings: mean(ish) dom! yeo, sub! reader, 15 year age gap, seduction, teasing, sir kink, dirty talk, praise/degradation, pet names/name calling, auralism, groping, half dressed kink ig?, cumming untouched, oral (receiving), fingering, squirting, brief deep throating, unprotected sex on a yoga mat, creampie

a/n: i done lost it guys TT just imagining having messy sex with mean dilf yeo somehow adds and takes off ten years of my life at the same time like some pemdas shit aughhh… i hope you enjoy this filthy mess <33

Now Playing:

ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ ʙʏ ᴅᴏᴍɪɴɪᴄ ꜰɪᴋᴇ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

“What do you mean you’re breaking up with me?” you gasped into your phone, holding a hand against your chest, personally offended that your boyfriend of six months would suggest such a thing. “And what about my personal trainer? He’s like fifteen years older than me. Baby. You really think I would do that to you?” 

“Y/N, I’ve seen him with my own eyes. I know you’re fucking him, and I’m over it. It’s over,” your boyfriend repeated into your ear, just ripping the bandaid off then and there. 

“You can’t do that. We’re not breaking up,” you scoffed, wrapping a lock of your hair around your finger, your lips forming a pout. “Babyyy, come on, you’re being so dumb right now.” 

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he quickly said, before hanging up. 

“Ugh.” Pissed off, you tossed your phone onto your canopy style bed, knocking one of your limited edition plushies off and onto the carpeted floor in the process. You turned to your full length mirror, glaring back at your scrunched-up face, your hands formed into fists near your tiny tennis skirt. “If he thinks I’m fucking my personal trainer, then I’ll fuck my personal trainer, alright.”

And so, your petty, self-righteous plan of spiteful revenge was set. You were a smart girl. You knew exactly what to do to get your ridiculously sexy personal trainer to break his professional and moral codes. All you had to do was wear something impossibly tight without anything underneath and moan a little louder when he was stretching you out. It was as simple as that. Right? 

࿏࿏࿏

Yeosang was everything a woman desired, all the way down to his persistent ability to respect them. He respected you, almost too much in your opinion. Here you were bent over in a ‘stretching position’ right in front of him, wearing a too-tight pair of gray leggings and the tiniest sports bra known to man, knowing damn well he could see the way you had your tits all pushed together for his viewing pleasure in the mirror, yet his eyes remained on yours. 

“How does it feel, Y/N? Are you tight anywhere like last time?” Yeosang asked, his voice, like dripping honey, filled your body with a comforting warmth. He studied your stretching form, one hand resting comfortably underneath his scruffy chin, the other on his hip. 

Your knees trembled slightly underneath you, urging you to return to a resting position, eventually sitting on your knees. You looked up to him, your eyelids lowering slightly, a pout on your glossy lips. “Really tight, yeah. I think I need help, Yeo…” 

“Then, I need you to lay down on your back for me,” he replied in a soft, though stern tone that made your cunt pulse, getting down onto his knees beside you with a small grunt. “Show me where, Y/N. You can do that, yeah?” 

Just as you laid down on the yoga mat, a fresh wave of slick slipped out of you. Damn him. He should be getting worked up over you, not the other way around. How would it be an act of petty revenge if you were soaking wet just from hearing your personal trainer’s absurdly sexy voice? 

“Nnngh, it’s right here…” you exhaled, feeling out your stiff hips, looking up at him past your lashes. “I need some stretching out, I think.” 

“Mm, I see. Well, let’s get you taken care of,” Yeosang nodded as his lips curled up into a somewhat mischievous smile, positioning himself so that he was in between your spread legs, wrapping his hands around one of your thighs and gently pushing it down towards your body, causing you to gasp. “Just relax for me, sweetheart…that’s it…” 

You were about to lose your mind, trying harder and harder not to let out a pornograhic moan the more Yeosang pushed his body weight onto you, your lower halves practically flush together. You wondered if he could feel how wet you were through your leggings, knowing there were no panties to catch your slick. “Yeosang…fuck…” 

Yeosang pushed down a little further, nodding his head apologetically. “I know, sweetheart, I know it hurts, but it’ll be worth it,” He gave you a charming smile, his fingers squeezing into the flesh of your thigh, pushing you down further, until the ache of your muscles matched the ache inside your cunt. “Still hurts?” 

“No, it feels good now, keep going, Yeo,” you sighed out, your eyes glazing over with lust, gently running your hand over his, sensing a hint of desire when it began to peer through Yeosang’s own lingering gaze, his hands moving towards your other thigh, beginning to give it the same treatment. 

“That’s a good girl,” Yeosang praised innocently enough, pressing your other thigh down against your body, leaning his body weight on you just enough to drive you mad, you cunt clenching around nothing. His other hand slipped around your opposite hip, expertly massaging it around with his calloused fingers. “Mm, you’re almost there. Just a little more…” 

“Yes, sir,” you sighed out, swearing you heard Yeosang’s breath get caught inside his throat just as soon as you felt something hard and heavy forming against your lower abdomen, hoping you weren’t just imagining it with your overheated brain. “I’m still so tight, Yeo…be gentle…” 

Yeosang bit into his bottom lip, coming to terms with your current shared predicament, wondering if you were both on the same page, but not fully knowing if he should cross several professional boundaries or not. Regardless, here he was, already pressing his stiff erection into his very young, very horny client’s cunt through her soaked leggings. What did he have to lose? His license maybe, and the respect of his peers perhaps, but it was worth the risk, especially now that most of the blood in his body had left his brain and filled up his heavy cock.

“Gentle, huh?” he chuckled deeply, pulling back slightly to admire the sight of your soaked cunt through your slick-stained leggings. “Sure you don’t want it rough, considering the way you’ve been dripping for me this entire time?” He ran two fingers down the legging seam that separated your puffy folds, rubbing them into your clit, making you let out another gasp. “Thought you could hide this from me, did you? I could feel how wet you were getting…”

“Fuck– Nooo, Yeo, I just wanted you to see it for yourself,” you answered whinily, spreading your legs open just a little wider, grabbing at the waistline of your leggings to make the shape of your cunt more pronounced, your pout returning. “Do you like it, sir?”  

“Jesus, of course I do. My slutty little client shows off her wet cunt and thinks I wouldn’t like it? Huh? Did you think I would be able to hold myself back?” Yeosang shook his head out of disbelief of his insane luck, taking his time running his calloused fingers up and down your clothed slit, admiring the way the material formed to the shape of it. 

Fuck it. You were too desperate now to reclaim any semblance of control over the situation, your act of personal revenge long forgotten, your mind only having enough space in it to think about Yeosang and getting used by him.

“I did it because I want to be your slut, Yeo. Please? Can I? I’ll be so good for you.” You began to move your hips along with his movements, in desperate need of more friction, more pleasure at your disposal, begging him with your glistening doe eyes. 

“Of course you can be my little slut, princess. You already are. I mean, just look at you, whoring yourself out for your personal trainer like this,” Yeosang groaned out, just as he lifted your ass up into the air by your hips, licking his lips. “I’ll make you mine, sweetheart.” And with that, he tore your leggings open just enough to expose your leaking cunt, leaning down slightly to take a deep inhale of your warm, flowery scent. “God, you’re completely soaked for me, Y/N. You’ve been wanting this so bad, haven’t you? Just dreaming about my tongue inside this tight hole of yours, huh?” 

“Yess, oh my god, please eat me out, Yeo, I’m begging,” you squeaked out from below him, already teary-eyed, ready to beg on your knees for the older man’s attention if you had to. 

Yeosang took an experimental lick up your cunt, already collecting enough slick inside his mouth for him to swallow down happily, idly working your clit with two agile fingers. “Do you play with your little clit like this and think of me before you go to sleep at night, Y/N?” he asked huskily against your cunt, beginning to lap at your leaking hole, teasing it with his tongue. “Huh? Do you think about me stretching you out with my tongue? With my cock?” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you moaned, just as Yeosang’s tongue fully slid inside you to rub at your inner walls, tongue-fucking you in a ravenous manner, his fingers still flicking at and squeezing your clit, your juices dripping down the lower-half of his face. “Fuck…! Yeosang…!” 

“Uh-huhhh…” he moaned into you, sending pleasurable vibrations through your cunt, eventually replacing his tongue with two more fingers, fucking you so quickly, you couldn’t even get a chance to breathe. “That’s it, baby, you’re so close, aren’t you? Going to squirt for me, yeah? Is my slut going to cum all over my face?” 

“Yes–fuck, Yeo–” you could barely call out, your muscles tightening suddenly, your lower half pulsing more and more until you let out an involuntary cry, clear liquid squirting out of you and pouring onto Yeosang’s face, spilling onto the yoga mat, and soaking into the material of your torn leggings, some dripping along your abdomen.  

“Oh my god, that’s a gooood girl, look at you…” Yeosang praised shakily, gently slurping up your squirt from your twitching cunt, moaning into it, his softening cock resting against his cum-covered inner thigh. “What a good little slut you are, Y/N.” 

“Good enough for cock?” you simply asked from below, reaching up to spread your cunt apart further for him, all while gazing up at him with barely open eyes, still swimming in your post orgasm bliss. “Wanna be stuffed, Yeo. Please?”  

Your adorably filthy behavior alone made Yeosang harder than he’s been in a long time, making him want to join in on the fun. He wasted no time positioning himself so that his knees were on either side of your head, slowly lowering his joggers until his long, veiny cock sprung out in front of your face. “I think you should drool on my cock for me first, princess. Maybe take it down that pretty throat of yours. Sound good?”

“Yes, sir,” you obeyed, opening your mouth wide enough to take what you could of Yeosang’s impressive length inside, gagging immediately when he began to fuck into your throat, dribbles of spit leaking down your chin. “Mmmfff…” 

Gutteral groans routinely escaped Yeosang’s throat, continuing to pump himself into your mouth, unable to release himself from the tight, warm confines of your now bulging throat. “God, you’re taking me so fucking well, princess. Wish I could watch you swallow my load down…” He suddenly pulled out, resting the tip of his heavy cock on your saliva-streaked lips, letting you lazily lap up the beads of pre-cum that spilled from it. “Gotta fuck you, though. I know that slutty cunt needs to be filled with cock.” 

“Fuck, yes, sir, give it to me,” you purred against his cockhead, sucking and slurping on it like it was candy, only stopping when he pulled away to lower himself down your body, until his cock was slowly pressing into your willing hole instead. 

“Doesn’t matter whose cock, huh?” he asked in his low, honey-like voice, wrapping his fingers around your hips, massaging into them like before, only this time he was sliding you onto his pulsing length little by little until he had completely bottomed out inside. 

“Mm-hm. I love cock, especially yours, Yeo,” you admitted breathily, the shame you felt only increasing your arousal, barely able to hook your thighs around his waist when he began to quickly pump himself into you, your hole swallowing his thick cock up each time.

“You’ll let a–fuck–older guy…someone who’s your personal trainer…nnngh…use you like their own personal cum dump and–” He pulled out suddenly, only to plunge himself deep into your cunt, making you cry out. “–pump you full of his cum as long as you’re getting stuffed and bred. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Uh-huh…!” you cried, unable to keep yourself from moaning and whining each time Yeosang slammed himself into you. “Fuck me like the slut I am…Please, sir…” 

“Oh godd, I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Y/N, gonna fuck your goddamn brains out,” Yeosang gruffed out in between brutal thrusts, resorting to grabbing and holding your wrists down so that you couldn’t get away from him, drilling his aching cock into your squelching hole like he was getting paid to do it, which he technically was. Life was good for Yeosang.

Yeosang did indeed fuck your brains out. He fucked you until you didn’t know which way was up or down. The only thing that brought you back to reality was something warm and thick gushing inside you, Yeosang’s calloused hand holding your own down against your abdomen, his nasty words barely reaching your hazy mind. 

“You feel that, princess? All the cum I’m filling this whore-hole up with?” he asked you softly in between harsh pants, a few beads of sweat sliding down his sharp chin and landing onto your flushed face. 

You could hardly move, let alone form a coherent sentence. “Yes, yes, yes…” 

“I want to see it…Want you to see what I’ve done to you.” Yeosang slowly pulled out of you, milking the tip of his cock, groaning softly, leaving a few more spurts of his load on your puffy cunt, a few drops of it getting onto the torn hole inside your leggings. 

He gently turned you around, so that you were facing the mirror on the wall, reaching past your spread thighs to spread open your cunt with his thumbs, laying his lips against your ear, “Look. You got cum leaking out of you, your leggings are all torn up, and you got squirt all over the mat too...Do you see what a mess you’ve become for me, Y/N?” 

“Yeah, I see, Yeo. I love it…” You gazed at his hazy reflection in the mirror with hearts in your eyes, wishing you had seduced your personal trainer at an earlier date. 

Inhaling your flowery scent once more, Yeosang pressed a kiss onto your cheek, nuzzling it. “That’s my girl.” He tilted his head to the side, his hands rubbing into your sore hips. “Same time next week?” 

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