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kflixnet · 10 months ago

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[MDNI] Check out our member Bai's smut oneshot!

Dawn

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, PRINCE'S ORDERS (nsfw tags under the cut)

(masterlist)

👑 pairing: exiled!prince!seonghwa x afab!reader 👑 genre: smut, fluff/angst, pwp but make it royaltycore 👑 summary: remember, remember this day, do remember, the treason and gunpowder plot. i see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot. as the preparations for a new era are complete, you find paradise and praise in the arms of the prince who had fallen, the prince who will be your king. 👑 wordcount: 6k 👑 warnings/tags: questionable editing, mention of 'sins', exile/royal family drama, revolution/uprising, muddled feelings, explicit mention of bombs, treason, park dynasty, royaltycore with modern elements, in love or in lust, lmk if anything else 👑 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 👑 a/n: it all started with a devious hwa smirk; @nebulousbrainsoup thank you for hyping over this with me <3 always, any reblogs appreciated. much love!

👑 nsfw tags: cunnilingus, overstim, teasing, pet names (love, darling...), begging, unprotected sex (wrap. it. up), creampie, nipple play (f receiving), implied aftercare

“It has been done,” you mumbled, fiddling with the edge of the heavy cloak that adorned your frame. Despite being in a secluded chamber, you did not have the heart, at least not yet, to reveal your surprise, instead keeping discussion and action to strictly business.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened, as though he was visualising the impact of your unspeakable actions. A pang of fear struck your heart as you cast a glance at the flickering orange flame of the torch – currently, the sole source of light in the chamber that he had made his quarters and headquarters, given the timidness of the moon as it hid behind thick clouds. The ornate window stood dormant, reflecting the light and the fiery man. Prior stoicism and cool resolve evaporated, and he turned towards you. In the blink of an eye he was setting the maps of the kingdom and of the locations that served as bases of operation of the new regime down on the desk, and he could not hold back on anxious praise.

“How did you- but that was a risk- you, my angel… my sweet, precious angel you are changing the world, light of my life-” stopping you from picking at your cloak, he took one of your hands in his, lips ghosting over the knuckles. He pressed your hand against his chest, as though in a miniature embrace.

It was easy to see the relief in his features. The hints of dark circles under his eyes, the misery being replaced with a shining hope and a boyish vivacity – this was why you had abandoned your own morals in favour of his, convincing yourself that what you had done was ‘the right’, and that there was an objective evil in the world that just so happened to align with your specific target. It could be the case; it could be that because Seonghwa was your personal ‘right’ and was the path you never wanted to stray from, you could not care less for any other misdeeds. When his grip on you weakened, you moved your arm back, and placed both hands on his shoulders, pretending to smooth out the fabric of his perfectly tailored black coat.

Not much had changed in his heart for as long as you knew him. Seonghwa was always there for you, and even in the midst of the crumbling of the Park dynasty, he was the one to tell you that it was going to be alright. Despite being publicly labelled a traitor and having a witch hunt launched to find and execute him, he was here, standing before you, with a gentle smile on his face. You wondered what was unfolding and being formulated in his beautiful mind. What tears was he suppressing, what curses was he refining for the day that he would look the revolutionaries in the face and deliver the final blow to reclaim the royal title and the kingdom. Perhaps his shoulders had gotten broader, perhaps his hair had gotten longer, gaze sharper and the sword that he would wield in his hand more lethal and merciless, but he was the same Seonghwa to you. The same boy who you had played in the royal gardens with, the same young man with whom you had danced in the quietude of empty halls. You did not know anyone except him, and that was how you wanted your life to stay. So, when Seonghwa offhandedly mentioned a ‘mission’ that he was due to complete – a critical step in the leadup to the uprising by him and his loyal army, you did not just volunteer, you swore to dedicate yourself wholly to his plan and did not experience a single droplet of regret.

Perhaps he was your sin. Like some suffered from Pride, or Lust, or Sloth, you were a devotee to His Royal Highness, until your very downfall. And this is why no other act, no matter how devious, meant anything to you – it was merely a step in the direction towards securing your one certain joy in what was otherwise a bleak, barren dystopia. His eyes contained a universe, and that was more than enough for you, even if your days were numbered. This was ringing particularly true after the act you had committed, and the cause for which you stood. You were frozen in time, regarding Seonghwa with the adoration of a person parting ways with the world. As though he was your last breath of air and last ray of sun before it set for eternity. It appeared that this dismissal of your internal turmoil did not go unnoticed, and the prince was quick to reach for your arms, pulling them down so that your fingers could intertwine.

“You mustn’t look back alone. It is a chasm,” he began, studying you. A bitter smile graced your lips as you bit back the long-chronic worries you possessed due to his unwavering kindness. Your precious little prince. You squeezed his hands, mumbling:

“What use is there in focusing on the past anyways, right?” when you sensed suspicion, you elaborated, “the future is bound to be brighter? Isn’t that right, sweet star of mine?”

An overwhelming pause. The question was meant to be rhetorical, potentially comedic, and yet it left a tinge of sourness. Nothing was for certain, even though you carried everything out to a tee and disappeared from the party-occupied castle unnoticed thanks to your knowledge of secret passages that ran between rooms and underground. Seonghwa’s voice accompanied you as you planted detonators, deafening devices and something one of the prince’s followers had kindly dubbed a ‘sleeping mist’ in predetermined locations. Turn, leave, you could do it, you were strong, there was reason behind your actions. Evidence of this was behind the elegantly dressed, albeit emotionally worn-down man. The maps – a myriad of scriptures, plans, strategies; some doomed to fail, others a brave but evaluated risk.

“Mm… that’s right,” you did not want to believe that it was a lie, so you settled on indulging in his deep timbre, tone so mellifluous that you wanted for it to be the only thing you could ever hear, “just you wait, the future is made for us. A world of ripest fruits for us to reap, for us alone…”

He moved once more, letting go of you. You could guess his musings almost word for word – a little planet. Starry night sky. Having the luxury of knowing what would happen when, so he would know when he could see you again, and you did not have to turn into a creature of darkness to creep inside the shadows to his hideout for a few hours, only to risk yourself all over again afterwards. Freedom and utopia were his forbidden fruit – an eternal temptation explicit in his gorgeous irises.

He was a dreamer with very consistent and persistent fantasies, as well as an eloquent way of feeding them into your soul with such finesse that with time you almost always considered any thought to be your own in its origins. Both the little prince and the serpent, Seonghwa was your definition of the world. He had given you a lens through which to see everything. Including him. To you, he was the definition of perfect. A fallen angel more than deserving to return to the heavens. He was outcast by evil, afterall.

Your body acted on its own accord, stepping back to give yourself at least some room to breathe, but you should have known better than to expect such a thing to happen in Seonghwa’s presence. He caught you - a long time ago. Unreadable expressions graced him as he hooked you back in with the slightest tug at the dark formless material hanging over your body.

“Did it take you long? Were you in danger?” he asked, spotting the absence of the pouch that had carried the discreet explosive animatronics for your distribution.

“N-no. Not at all. They did not suspect anything out of the ordinary. Besides, I did not try to improvise outside of your instruction.”

“Good. More than good,” it was as if he was talking to himself, undoubtedly reviewing the preparations, now accounting for the success of a major element of the operation. “I wonder if anyone would be able to spot the butterflies prematurely. Would the alarm be rung then? Would we-”

“Are you doubting my skills to hide the tech, Your Highness?” you jest, imitating frustration.

“Hm, no. I think I am merely excited for what is to come. We’ve been preparing night…” he sneaked a glance at your neck, trying to guess what you were hiding under black wool, “...and day. I want to see it all come to life, and have you with me.”

With him - that was all you could hear. You were not one for bloodshed, however given the possibility of redemption, it was appealing. You did your part for him, and he was proud. Now, you could close your eyes. Something in the way Seonghwa approached you was akin to the way a predator follows an unsuspecting beast in a grove. Eyes that were neither hostile nor forgiving, foresight so powerful that he was confident you would never leave. The two of you had too much history, too many memories from which detangling oneself would be virtually impossible. You tried, however your attempts had been in vain. When you had first caught the rumours of exile flying around the castle, and then the extensive discussions about familial rivalry and planned ‘changes of crown’ to fit a new ideology, you tried to get away deeming the path of ignorance safer. All it took was one whisper of your name to vow that if Seonghwa were to be sent to hell, you would loyally follow him there. Should he be executed, you would weep at his side and depart with him, heart already in a million pieces. You were irrevocably, foolishly in love with Park Seonghwa, the former prince of Aurora, willing to settle for being a favourite pawn, should he want you to be one. But even that title you would never be able to fish out of him. Forever enigmatic, you were never confident in assuming you were his only star despite the sweet nothings and the adoring gazes, but even if you were part of a big universe for this ambitious, high and mighty man, you did not mind. No one could fight against power. No one could fight against the greed for supremacy.

He was so close. An angel glowing in the torch light. The gold and red detail on his clothing turned to holy markings in his grace. You were stunned, a pliable doll in his arms, entranced by his slowed blinking as the ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips. There was always reason to reward you and your undying commitment to his cause. A token of appreciation, some could say. Seonghwa could also retain some form of humanity and call it for what it was - a long-standing obsession, but given who he wanted to become, he needed to contain himself and possess at least a sliver of civility before inevitably breaking apart for you, and only you.

“Thank you, Y/N,” music to your ears, the final straw before your internal chaos overwhelmed you and you had to hold on to Seonghwa’s voice for guidance. Your reaction was easy to detect, as the prince moved to have his fingers just barely touch your face.

”So… so beautiful, my love,” his hand traced your jawline, pausing when a shudder passed over your body. Seonghwa chuckled, admiring how responsive you were, how attuned you were to him despite remaining mostly unperturbed by the world that surrounded you.

There was something spectacular in how you carried yourself – feigned obliviousness, a façade of perfect innocence that had been the main reason for your survival under the new regime. Pretty precious little bird that knew how to keep quiet, and in turn were destined to sing the loudest when the time would come. Your eyes, widened as you devoured him, were enchanting pools that he would not hesitate to dive into and drown. Perhaps one could argue that no one liked a dead man, but Seonghwa was one of the lucky ones; your taboo rendezvous were evidence enough that you did not mind a character in your life who was as good as a ghost.

Your slightly parted lips, rosy, moistened by the darting of your delicate, delectable tongue were a sinful fruit that he desired to own. Running a thumb over your lower lip, the sparks of an uncontrollable lust burst in his chest, tainting his bloodstream like the most potent wine. He could see the edges of your dress under the black cloak that you used to move undetected in the night. To visit him, of all people. To risk your life for him and him alone. For him to be the only one who could even spot the royal crimson fabric underneath – a material tailors would fight over, material that he had gifted to you once upon a time despite barely having any network whilst in the chasm of being an outlaw, a traitor of the state. Enemy number one, who had made it a mission to dress you up. He did not regret a thing. Not when you gasped as he toyed with the clasp of the cloak. Not when he felt your hands land right above his heart, fingers toying with the leather harness and golden embroidery of his long military coat - another echo of the past that he would never be able to shed away. In addition, as the days approaching the uprising were being reduced to nil, he could not help but be drawn to the fine material as a form of mockery. He wanted those who have wronged him to see themselves in his form, to hear him have the final laugh.

Muscles tensing under your fluttering caresses, Seonghwa was giving into a domineering restlessness. Unhooking the clasp, he admired the way the black fabric pooled around you, as though the night sky was bowing before your grace. He tried to catch his breath, but it proved to be impossible as the dress occupied his vision. Nothing remained, only your impeccable handiwork, the perfection that was the fit of the garment on your body. You were supreme, the symbol of victory and glory. Clad in red, he saw the future in your form, both in spirit and in the battle cries that would accompany the painting of the lands in the colour of the wondrous silk.

You retracted your hands, and almost regretted it when you heard Seonghwa’s staggered inhale. He was looking you up and down, memorising every detail, undoubtedly thinking of anything and everything that he could do to you, or what you could do to him. Despite the urge to act, to step towards him and greedily steal away what he had left of precious oxygen, you did what you did best, and batted your eyelashes, pretending to be unaware. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, in trepidation to accept the guilt of inducing a small death. Serial murder, unforgivable, manic, addictive, reviving.

“I-“ he tried to form a sentence but it seemed as though every word he could think of wilted before escaping his throat.

Darkened irises darting back and forth, in awe of you – your favourite sight. You could not help but to reach out to him, moving to push an escaping tiny strand of inky hair from his stunning, timeless face. Fingers inadvertently ran further, carding through the slicked back locks and tempting Seonghwa to come closer. Biting his lower lip, he stepped closer to you, hands finding purchase on your hips and giving them a warning squeeze. You tugged lightly, making his previously lowered head rise to face you directly. You could see nothing in his eyes except what you yourself could reflect. The most beautiful and inextinguishable hellfire.

“You have good taste, Seonghwa,” you smiled softly, though the action was clouded over with a deeper intent.

“I am blessed to say I have a muse,” snaking over to your waist, you were suddenly being pulled into a yearning embrace. His racing heart reverberated and echoed in your body, the rising heat of his thighs and hips against yours grew ever more prominent. Seonghwa occupied your every sense, making you forget where you were, when, and what the consequences of your star-crossed union could be.

“Mm is that so?” you suppressed a giggle, brushing his wavy tresses back once more, while your other hand on the side of his face. You could feel him lean into the touch, eyes shutting for a moment before meeting yours once more.

It was in such moments that you found you knew Seonghwa best. Uninhibited and entirely himself, he bared his soul to you in every glance and longing grasp of cloth or exposed skin. Stars in his deep mahogany orbs, the exiled prince was silently asking you for permission. For what? You were about to find out; not once did you not trust him enough to let go of your inner voice and soar into pleasure – those who plotted uprisings together, were meant to be bound together, body and mind. It did not take long before Seonghwa’s lips were on yours, intoxicating, the pace of your elaborate dance so dizzyingly slow that a minute more and you would be the one clawing for more. Overwhelming, he pressed himself against you, and you could only hold on tight, thanking every deity who could unabashedly observe your physical confession for the existence of such moments in your life.

Fingers digging into his scalp, you evoked a muffled groan from your royal lover, who nipped at your lower lip and tentatively ran over it with his tongue, asking for access. Who were you to not oblige, especially when he asked so nicely? In no time, he dipped into a deeper kiss, exploring you, memorising you all over again as though you did not visit him both when he was awake and in his dreams. He was feverish, erratic, his plush reddened lips were leaving trails over your cheeks, the crook right before your shoulder and moved back to evoke a quiet moan out of you by paying special attention to the sensitive spots on your neck.

The red dress was a rose, a promise, divine dedication to him - the same material as that of his own clothes, the colour of the details on the coat which in a joint effort you and him were practically ripping away - the body harness already long gone, to reveal a flowing black shirt. Resting your arms on his strong shoulders you gave into every sensation, fingers instinctively finding their place carding through his locks, you followed his lead and stumbled backwards until an unexpected fabric hit the back of your head, making you gasp into another kiss. With a low growl and unprecedented annoyance, Seonghwa pushed the curtain that served as a divider between the office and meeting area of his chambers and the segment he used as his bedroom. Not quite the same as what his quarters used to be in the castle, but thanks to his military precision and tidiness, went above and beyond what one would expect from a rebel hellbent on chaos.

It was dizzying - his hands travelling across your body, his hot breath against your skin as he battled the same dress he had implored you to craft and wear, his simultaneously sultry and threatening glare that immediately subdued you as soon as you tried to remove yourself from him to help. No words, only a muted command, and in a matter of moments, you felt a coldness crawl up your spine as Seonghwa expertly undid the buttons on your dress. Goosebumps involuntarily appeared on your skin, erased by your lover’s quick hand.

“Is my darling cold?” he rubbed your back, the intensity and affection forming a combination excruciating for your heart. You shook your head, not wanting for him to worry, though the decision resulted in quite the opposite, “You know it is not good to lie, right?”

“I’m sorry-”

“I suppose it is a little… these damned stone walls. Sorry, love, this is far from welcoming.”

“No, please don’t worry…”

“Mm. Then stop me from worrying. Are you cold?”

You were burning up. The contrast between your flesh and the air was stark, and you bit your lower lip in an attempt to suppress another shudder. Seonghwa stepped forward, making your knees buckle as your lower legs hit the edge of the bed. He let you sit, though himself remained hovering above you, casting a shadow. You turned and studied anything and everything in your immediate surroundings, a wave of embarrassment washing over you despite having been with him so many times before. You stopped at the coat that was lying discarded on the floor. The brooches and badges, marking his titles - or at least past titles, in the Royal Military, glistened and induced a pang of anxiety. Were you living in an illusion by hoping for the past to return? A hand under your chin returned you to the present, and your misty eyes were forced to meet Seonghwa. What was a vexed, darkened expression melted away, revealing a tinge of concern uncharacteristic of his regal image.

“Talk to me,” crouching down to your level, you felt blush rising on your cheeks.

“...A bit…”

“There, see. Easy. Now, do you trust me?”

“Wholeheartedly.”

“So, burn with me, my love,” purposefully implying, he gave space. But if he was the flame, then you were the air, quickly disintegrating as the orange and red blaze consumed the vital essence. You had no chance, or choice, your only answer was his name, repeated over and over and over again until you knew nothing else.

Every single one of your senses was consumed by him and the near unbearable warmth shared between two bodies connected under heavy sheets. Brain turned to cotton, much like the blanket that was currently muffling your cries of pleasure, you were being kept from writhing only by Seonghwa’s iron grip. Thighs pinned to your upper body, he had you folded in half as he licked strips up your soaked folds, toying with your abused clit before sliding his tongue deeper, relishing in how your walls clenched around him, begging for more. Pathetic whines were music to his ears, prompting him to move until his nose was almost pressed against the overstimulated bundle of nerves and he could relentlessly fuck into you.

Addicted to the scent and taste of your arousal, he was not giving you any room to breathe, nor to recover from your first orgasm, and instead launched directly into building you up for another. You were a masterpiece, giving up to salacious ecstasy for him so easily, adoring words spilling out of you even though you were barely capable of constructing a proper sentence. The sheer notion of having such impressive power, and you giving up ownership of your personal euphoria to him made him want to stay in this position together.

“Mine-” he muttered, barely audible as he coated his tongue in your nectar and rolled it over your clit.

You yelped and threw your head back as a sensation resembling an electric shock hurried through you. Grasping at the bedsheets until your knuckles were turning white, the last image of your lover before he immersed you in artificial darkness was haunting you - his devilish smirk when you shyly nodded in agreement, his virtually lewd scrutiny as he studied your reactions to him ridding you of the dress, to him immediately disposing of your bra, and to him playing with your thin panties, occasionally dipping into your dripping heat to tease you. And then, when he deemed you ready enough, you were in a world where nothing and no one existed except Seonghwa.

The knot that was building in your core was ready to snap at any moment. You could not breathe. You were seeing stars and you were mewling for Seonghwa despite him being right there between your legs, taking you apart. Sensing your oncoming climax, your prince braved letting go of one of your quivering thighs in favour of pressing down on both with one arm, while the other landed directly on your bud, fingers masterfully flicking it while he curled into your hole, pulsating motion inciting wanton squelching from your heat, amplified by the confined space under the duvet.

“Hwa- I-” the nickname spilled out of your mouth by accident, though it seemed that the prince did not mind. Instead he hummed and sped up once more, only to send you over the edge.

Lapping up your release, he guided you through your high and greeted you on your way down, his hands acting as a stabilising force that kept your shaking limbs, and you safe. Seonghwa nipped at your inner thighs, exhaling sharply in amusement when upon teasingly dragging a finger across your pussy you gasped, thighs instinctively trying to bring themselves together. But your lover was quicker than that, lifting himself up until he was hovering over your fragile frame with a knee pressed against your heat. The sheets slid down his form, stopping just past the middle of his back - enough to reveal the glistening orgasm on his face, his half lidded eyes and parted, gorgeous lips. He flicked his tongue - a habit occasionally turned into intentional provocation. Pupils blown, expression animalistic, ravenous, he needed more. To bear the scalding hot oasis that you shared, he had torn off his clothing. Though now, he could no longer bear the aching of his erection that was rubbing against your stomach, rapidly coating it in pearly translucent beads of precum. Hips moving on their own accord, he started to rut against you to gain at least some form of friction.

“Still hmph- cold?” he asked, unfiltered mockery clear in his voice.

“Please, Seonghwa- need you in-”

“So fucked out you can’t even - ah, answer my question?” he cut you off, keeping the teasing demeanour all the while his dick was throbbing painfully against you, “I s-said, a-are you cold? Finally catching on, you agreed with him.

“Yes, I… need more. Please,”

“How do you need more, my greedy darling? Hm?” stopping his rocking, he took to rolling one of your hard nipples between his fingers, taking in your every breath, sigh, and the rolling of the eyes as you felt a tug shoot straight to your core.

“-want you to fuck me,”

“Mhm-”

“-want your cock inside me-”

“Yes-”

“-want you to fill me up ple-”

“Say that again,” in less than a second, his nose was against yours and you were peering straight into his soul, finding an inexhaustible danger. His breathing had gotten considerably shallower, and you swore you felt his cock twitch.

“Fill me up, Hwa, I- please-”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he pushed your legs further apart before tapping you on your hip to adjust your positioning. Eagerly, you followed his request hissing at the sensation of his tip teasing your burning heat before Seonghwa bottomed out, the mixture of slick and precum offering a delicious glide.

He leaned forwards, his bare chest against yours as he shared your state of enchantment awestruck as the torchlight gave up its final battle, only to be replaced by the beginnings of a full moon. You were a goddess in blue and silver that gleamed around the thick curtain, your glassy eyes so innocently sharing feelings he had never dared to express openly that he could not help but plant one peck after another over your cheeks, nose, eyelids, and finally, the lips. The scalding friction of skin against skin started to resemble a prolonged embrace, and when Seonghwa slowly dragged his length against your clenching walls, he mused if in another life, you could be connected like this for all of eternity.

You offered him the true meaning of ‘unconditional’. You trusted him without a second thought, and were ready to throw away the stability you had within the castle walls in favour of a probability. Your optimism intrigued Seonghwa, and he knew he was in danger of falling in love. In fact, he had been this way since long before finding out his enemies were all beside him at the dinner table every evening, and that only in the most critical moments could he discover his real allies. If he were any more free of the burdens permanently clinging onto his shoulders, the prince would have confessed to you. For now, however, he had the freedom how you fell apart beneath him, so deliciously gullible, drunk in lust.

With each languid thrust into your weeping cunt, he was silently singing your praises, thanking you for every day that you had shared with him, for every night that you had proved that you did not abandon him. As he picked up the rhythm, your melodic pants and whines accentuated the lewd squelching and at the same time sent his mind into overdrive. He loved the time he had with you, the time when nothing existed except instinct and what he could only call a union written in the stars. Seonghwa bit down on his lower lip as his pumping grew erratic and you tightened around him as you reached your high. He let out a whimper, vision impossibly blurry and growing darker as he could barely fight the weight of his eyelids. As he moaned your name, Seonghwa, accepted his violent addiction to your pleasure and your pain as you clambered for the remnants of your sanity in the midst of an overdriven climax. Thick ropes of cum coated your spongy walls and Seonghwa stilled his hips, unable to maintain even a frantic, stuttering pace any longer. Your arms collapsed to your sides, leaving behind marks where you had driven your nails into his perfectly tan skin. The fullness made you impossibly weak, and you fell back onto the pillows, taking Seonghwa with you. Having collapsed under the weight of ecstasy, your lover rested his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling the delectable scent of sex and desire.

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a soft glow over the secluded chamber where Prince Seonghwa had found temporary solace and transformed it into the cradle of a new world to come. You, his loyal companion and confidante, or at least that was how you decisively wished to name yourself in the midst of uncertainty, nestled against him, your fingers intertwined. The weight of Seonghwa's destiny bore down on his shoulders, and the weight of you in his arms offered a fleeting respite.

Seonghwa's eyes traced the delicate features of your face, bathed in the gentle moonlight. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice carrying a mixture of longing and determination. "I can no longer bear the burden of this false exile,” he was returning to the present, the only remnants of the beautifully turbulent night being his slightly swollen lips, gravelly voice and dishevelled sweaty hair which had just begun to curl. “The time has come to reclaim what is rightfully mine. I just… I just hope it all comes together."

Your sleepy gaze met Seonghwa's, understanding and unwavering support evident even in the semi-darkness. "I'll stand by your side, Seonghwa, no matter the peril that awaits us. Together, we'll face the storm and emerge stronger.” It was easy to hope and easy to pass the tasks to the next person in the relay, so you wondered if your words held any meaning to your lover. When it was just the two of you, it was easy to worship the art of hedonism and forget impending doom. If only you could erase his own thoughts from his mind. Be selfish. With a soft shake of the head you dismiss the impending sourness, choosing instead to focus on the heavenly fatigue, like cotton, enveloping your and Seonghwa’s bodies.

As if drawn by an invisible force, Seonghwa pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. The warmth of your connection was a stark contrast to the cold reality awaiting you outside the chamber walls. For a moment, you existed in your own sanctuary, shielded. The room echoed with the soft rustle of fabric as Seonghwa shifted to hold you even closer. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, a silent reassurance that he cherished this stolen moment of peace. In the midst of the impending uprising, Seonghwa found a panacea in your arms, a haven that anchored him and convinced him that what he was doing was a necessary evil. You nestled into Seonghwa's chest, feeling the steady cadence of his heartbeat.

"Promise me we'll make it through this," You whispered, fingers tracing absentminded patterns on Seonghwa's chest. You knew that no matter how he would answer, it would be hollow, for only fate could be aware and decide the outcome.

Seonghwa pressed his lips to the crown of your head. "I promise, my love. We'll face the challenges together, and when the dust settles, we'll build a kingdom. How does that sound?”

“Good.”

“My queen.”

“Don’t say that…”

“Today, these are words. Tomorrow, the world can be ours,” you succumbed to his cruel hypnosis, not daring to ask for his methods, nor for his confessions. The less questions you asked Seonghwa, the happier you could pretend to be, and the grander was the castle in your sky.

The weight of your shared destiny hung heavily in the air, yet in the quiet cocoon of your embrace, the two of you had found your own religion. As the first light of dawn approached, you remained entwined, drawing strength from each other to face the tumultuous path that awaited you - a path that would lead you to a ferocious battle, deciding centuries to come in the timespan of the flutter of a butterfly’s wings.

“Will I ever be forgiven?”

“Who is there to forgive you?” After some deliberation, you dared to query. In one reckless sweep, you ignited every shadow of hesitation, leaving you only with unconditional, pure love that would carry you through any hardship. The one thing you had left, unfortunately unbreakable.

In the faint light of the rising sun, crawling into the room and coating it in magnificent gold, the man who you so adored and was devoted to was in every form a soul condemned to eternal hellfire; you were fully aware of that. A tarnished being marked as dead before he could even begin to spread his wings. Feathers strewn across what used to be a kingdom meant for him to rule being the only remnant of the brutal betrayal. The devilishly handsome traitor or trailblazer sharing his bed with you was not supposed to exist. And yet, it was his voice, his touch, his scent that occupied your every pore and thought, the owner’s name being carved into you over and over again until you forgot the bigger picture, focusing only on what Seonghwa could envision and how you could achieve that priceless peaceful kingdom.

“Now that is a question I would be interested in figuring out the answer to…”

“Both of us are unforgivable. Cannot repent, cannot start again,” you turned to face him, captivated by the way the sun highlighted his features, “but we can go forward. Until the hands of time stop us.”

As the two of you drifted into a dreamless slumber - a luxury serving as a calm before the storm, you comforted yourself with the fact that in some sense, nothing was going to change just like the darkness that came with your dozing. One fallen leaf, or soldier, would replace another, one snowflake would twirl in pursuit of its partner, one Park would return his crown from the other. In the grand scheme of things, it was still the neverending winter, a late dawn, and the same dynasty, the embodiment of which you prayed was in your adoring and calculating embrace.

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#g: 18+#g: smut #g: royalty au #g: fluff #g: angst #warnings: religious themes #warnings: mentions of bombs #warnings: oral sex #warnings: teasing #warnings: use of pet names #warnings: unprotected sex #type: smut #wc: 6k+#a: hwaightme #member: bai #artist: ateez #m: seonghwa

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simpyclown · 3 months ago

Text

MEGUMI'S DAD CAN BE MY DADDY TOO

Toji.

Summary: toji comes home from a mission to see Megumi’s little friend on his house, holding a knife to his private parts.

wc. 3.741

warnings on the tags!

You always liked older men better than the ones your age. Even when you were a little girl and had a crush on your mother's cousin, the closest thing you had to an uncle, — even if he wasn't really related to you by blood.

When you got to Jujutsu High you were basically in heaven, with all the old bastards roaming there. Nanami was the perfect daddy to ever dad, even if he never stayed long enough so you could try to strike up a conversation with him.

Sighing, you kick a rock in the middle of the pavement, walking right beside Nobara and Megumi while Yuuji is the only one actually holding the older man's attention.

You dressed as good as you could today, just because you heard Nanami was going to supervise your mission, and now he doesn't even look at you.

“Hey” you whisper to Nobara, dragging her attention from her phone to you “my skirt isn’t that short, is it?” Is Nanami not looking at you just because you wore your skirt too short? Nah, that can't be right.

Nobara pauses to check your backside and then chuckles.

“Girl, you're almost showing your panties.”

You frown, looking down. We'll, yeah, you wore a miniskirt, but you're also wearing a dark pantyhose, so you can't be really showing anything.

“Be serious!” You whine, shoving Nobara when you notice she's joking with you. “Nanami didn't even look at me!”

You can see from the side of your vision Megumi rolling her eyes, and Nobara just laughs loudly, putting an arm around your shoulders.

“Babe, he won't look at a middle schooler, he's not an old perv.”

Nobara is probably right, he won't look at you even if you strip down to your lingerie, not while you're still under his supervision and his alumni. Fuck.

“The good side is that I won't stay underage for much longer” you say, giving her a little smile “and when I get older, I will jump his bones so hard he won't even know what hit him.”

Nobara's laugh was so loud you couldn't hear Yuuji asking Nanami why he was so red in the face suddenly.

***

The curse you had to exorcise was a nasty thing. Nothing really dangerous, just too difficult to get rid of, more like a fungus than a real curse.

After all the hard work and tiredness, Nanami sent you all home to sleep and relax the day after, but you, being the older and wiser, suggested to your friends to have a drink.

Normally you guys would just buy some sake and drink it in your dorms, but as you proposed, Megumi has a mean smile on her face.

“Let's go to my house,” he said, turning around and making all of you follow him “Father is not home this weekend, and he has a stack of alcohol he would hate if someone tampered with it.”

“You're so mean with Toji-san” Yuuji defends “he's cool!”

You don't know the man, you hear the name often and Megumi for all he curses his father, apparently has a good relationship with him, but you never really met the man. Maybe I heard his voice when Megumi called him sometimes.

The only thing you know about Megumi's father is that he left him and his mother alone and disappeared on the face of the earth, returning just a few years back claiming he didn't know Mrs. Fushiguro was dead.

“He pissed me off yesterday.” It's all Megumi says, shrugging, and you can't really complain about free food and alcohol.

“Let's get wasted then!” You proclaim, taking Megumi’s arm and walking off. Nobara follows you two, while shaking her head and laughing at Yuuji's pout.

***

You scoff at yourself while you try to reach the fucking cabinets on your friends house. All of them were already sleeping, dropping dead after three or four shots.

“Damn lightweights.” You curse, searching for some painkillers to give to them when they wake up. Knowing Nobara she will complain the instant she opens her eyes, and you will actually murder her if she wakes you up.

You stop in your tracks when you hear the click of the door closing shut. You're pretty sure the person doing it didn't mean for you to hear anything, if the complete silence after that is something to go by.

Any other person wouldn't hear it, not with the stuffing and searching around, but you're too attentive to your surroundings to not hear it.

Cursing silently, you reach for the knife holder, picking up the biggest one there. Being pretty sure Megumi mentioned his father wouldn't be home for more four days and wondering who could have the keys to his house, or be bold enough to trespass, you walk slowly to the living room, wearing socks, your footsteps are muffled on the floor, but it doesn't mean you can't be cautious.

Pointing the knife opposite to your body and squinting your eyes on the muffled lights, you finally reach the corner, you hide against it, looking carefully to see who it is.

The shadow is too fast to evade, but you're fast enough to point the knife in a point sufficiently squishy to make the intruder pause.

In a matter of seconds, a big hand is holding you by the throat against the cold wall. The force used to shove you against the cold wall is enough to steal your breath away. How the fuck could this person be so fast, when so big? You struggle against the hold, and while you couldn’t point the knife to this mysterious person's throat, you at least achieve to have it against his femoral artery.

“Look at what we have here” the man murmurs, looking you up and down “I doubt a little thing like you would try to enter my house just to steal my clothes. Used ones, if I can see right in this light.”

You practically freeze at what the man says, because it starts to make too much sense in him being Mr. Fushiguro, even if he shouldn't be here until at least Thursday.

Frowning, you look at his face attentively. The man is tall, almost a head taller than you, and his big hand doesn't allow you too much movement, but you can see the black hair and green eyes so fucking close to Megumi's tone to this man not be his dad.

You lick your lips. Fuck, you hope he's an intruder, because this is too embarrassing.

“Mr. Fushiguro?” Your voice doesn't tremble, but you're praying to whatever god exists that this man isn't actually Megumi's father.

The behemoth tilts his head, hair waving out of the way sufficiently to his piercing green eyes to look you up and down slowly, analyzing you very carefully.

“That's me doll,” he hums, corners of his lips arching. “But who could you be?”

You let your head fall against the wall, big hand still holding your throat, but not pressing it more than necessary to make a threat, not damage. Closing your eyes in embarrassment, you muster courage to explain it to him.

“I am Megumi's friend,” you say, opening an eye just to see the older man's reaction. “We ended a mission a few hours ago and decided to relax a little here.”

Licking your lips, you notice his hand loosening a little, not sufficiently for you to try to get out of your hold, just not to bruise.

The man then flicks the lights, making your eyes sting with the clarity, while he looks you up and down again.

“Heh,” he scoffs, letting you go and taking a step back “I can see that.”

It's with his tone that you remember the clothes you're wearing. Just a big white shirt Megumi had given you and socks to maintain your feet warm. Your hair is free, probably not really well-kept, pupils dilated from the drinks and sweat clinging to your skin because of the scare you had just now.

You probably make a sight, just not for the reasons he assumes. You shake your head, eyes widening.

“No, no. We were just having some drinks” You say, pointing to Megumi's bedroom “but they're already sleeping. I was actually searching for some painkillers for tomorrow, or they will be pouting and making noises very early, and I'll have to murder them because of it.”

You babble, first because you're embarrassed, second because you don't want him thinking you're Megumi's girlfriend or something, and third because Mr. Fushiguro is a sight.

Big broad shoulders, arms bulging when he crosses them in front of his large chest while he waits for you to finish. He has a mean looking smirk displayed on his mouth, a little scar in the corner of his lips making your cheeks warm. You usually don't blush, you're the one who likes to make others blush.

You start to fiddle with the knife, eyes roaming through the sheer image the man makes using that compression shirt and fucking sweatpants.

No one should be this hot using just those pieces of cloth.

“Drinking?” He arches an eyebrow, amused. “Aren’t you too young to do that?”

You can't help but bark a laugh, rounding him to put the knife back in its place.

“If I am old enough to kill those things, a few shots won't be too bad” You say, shrugging.

***

Toji looks at your back while you kneel to look at the bottom half of the cabinet. He's pretty sure the shirt you're using as a dress is his, and it's so big on you, it keeps dropping off and showing that soft smooth skin of your shoulder.

He doesn't know what he did to piss Megumi again for him to try to drain his stack of whiskey again, but it probably is not bad enough if his son brings a little pretty thing like you to him, tempting him like that.

When you bend down to reach the back of the cabinet, he almost chokes on the water he was sipping, killing time to ‘monitor’ you while you roam his things. Toji is pretty sure the slip thing of cloth you're using to cover your pussy can't be called a pantie. Not with how those soft and succulent lips are spillin’ out of it like that.

“I think I may have put a bottle in the back” he grunts, voice starting to get rough. Toji couldn't help himself leaning his forearms on the counter, eyes glued to your pert butt and pretty pussy showing with the way his shirt is sliding up more and more while you stretch yourself to search.

Toji is so distracted, he almost doesn't see you looking above your shoulder to see his reaction. When he finally feels your eyes on his face he looks up fast, eyes snapping to yours. You’re sporting a little smirk, smug expression as if you scored something.

He sees you licking your lips, back arching a little more, disclosing more skin than necessary with the stretch you do.

“Here?” You ask, hands invisible inside the cabinet, but he is pretty sure you're not searching anything anymore, not with the way your eyes shine with mischief.

“It's a little packed up” Toji murmurs, mouth watering with the sight you make “I think you will have to search a little more.”

You nod, and shuffle more. Your head is already inside the cabinet while the rest of your body shakes with your movements.

You bend your body sufficiently to the shirt you're wearing to pour around your waist, exposing your smooth bubble butt to him, and Toji can't help but chuckle.

“Such a little bitch” he murmurs, rounding the counter to step behind you, eyes glued to the little thing you probably would call lingerie “showing yourself so shamelessly.”

You smirk to yourself, picking up the bottle just right when he grows tired of your teasing and bends down to touch you.

“Ah!” You exclaim, straightening your back and pulling the shirt you're wearing down. “Found it.” You hold on to his hand and use it to raise yourself to your feet, coming almost close to his chest. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Fushiguro.”

Toji smirk just widened at your attitude, the hand you were holding firmly securing yours, pulling your body to his until your chest pressed against his.

He occupies his other hand, picking up the bottle from you and putting it on the counter. Then it snakes slyly to your back, grabbing your butt with a firm hold, his hand practically molding to your flesh.

“What do you think you're doing?” he chuckles, making your body heat up with the way it rumbles on his chest. “Teasing me, little minx.”

You shiver a little with the way he lets go of your ass just to put his big calloused hand on your thigh and raise the hem off your shirt, his shirt. Making goosebumps rise with the firm touch.

You can't help how your body aches to be pressed against him, how your legs press against each other. Because this man is all your wet dreams pressed into a whole big and delicious package. A delicious, probably very tasty package who is actually the father of one of your best friends.

Your breath hitch at the thought, and you feel your eyes widening. God, what are you doing? This man is Megumi's father. Cursing under your breath, you hold his wrist, the one attached at the wandering hand.

“Mr. Fushiguro,” you murmur, looking up at the devilish grin he has, “You're Megumi's father.”

You say it more to remember it yourself than to reproach him, because while it can grate on your thoughts, is not something you're worrying about very much right now. Not with his big hands on your body and the smell of pure man on your nose.

You don't know the cologne he uses, but fuck if it is not taunting you to just stick your nose on his neck and lick his skin.

Mr. Fushiguro actually laughs at what you say, something deep and so sexy, his hand descending again to the curve of your leg, raising it up sufficiently to wrap it around his waist, and you almost melt at the attitude.

He's too domineering, his actions are so fucking demanding you want to bend and expose yourself to him. Again.

“Don't play coy with me right now, kitten.” he rumbles, hand patting your leg like he's saying ‘stay right here’. “Not when you were asking me to pound you just seconds ago.”

He grinds against you, hips buckling just a little, just sufficiently to show you what he felt with your teasing. You can't help but make a little noise on your throat, because he would feel so damn good inside you, you're sure. He feels so big, so damn large you have half a mind to drop on your knees and worship it right there.

“I didn't ask you anything other than to show me the painkillers.” You argue, because you can be half drunk on alcohol and half drunk with pure lust, but your brain-mouth filter is still not functioning as it should.

“No?” he asks, hands moving to both your arms, pulling them around his neck “and what exactly were you doing when you arched your spine like a whore, showing me your excuse of panties?”

You rest your forehead on his chest when his hands continue roaming until they reach your ass. He grabs it like he was craving, like he wanted to make you his personal ball of stress relief. His hard cock resting just against your belly, layers of clothes just preventing you from really feeling it against your skin.

“It's not my fault you were looking at something you shouldn't.”

You hear the harsh slap before you can even feel it, the burning sensation catching you up just when you feel him caressing it right after. Your body reaction is almost instant, breath hitching and pussy clenching around nothing.

“I now can understand why Megumi has been so mouthy recently” the man murmurs, nose caressing your cheek while you try to not rut your aching pussy against him. Every fucking action Fushiguro Toji takes goes directly to your pussy, making you react almost viscerally. “With a brat like you for a friend, how could he not?”

“I am just tellin’ the truth” you retort, your voice more breathy than anticipated “if I am a brat, then you're an old perv.”

The smack this time is hard enough to echo in the entire place, almost as loudly as your moan when he does that. Your muscles tighten around him, pulling him close, so you could hide your face on his chest when your hips start to rut against his.

He chuckles something mean, while he holds you by the nape and pulls you off his chest just to see your expression, your reddened cheeks and glossy eyes. Even with this treatment you can't stop moving your hips, pussy dragging against his thigh, covered only with the tiny lacy panties you were wearing.

The cloth drags against your very sensitive clit, and you always were a greedy girl, you need more and more, even when you can’t help but argue with him.

“This smart little mouth” he grunts, thumb caressing your bottom lip so softly it almost drags a moan from you, and you can see the way his eyes are shining with something dangerous. “I should put it to good use, so you would stop being such a fucking brat.”

That earns him a little giggle, lips spreading in a little crooked smile even if his hand is holding your face, pressing your cheeks and making you look a little too young.

You continue rolling your hips against him, because you can't stop yourself, but also he is still hardening, and you can't stop thinking how the fuck this is even possible. He's big, no, actually he is enormous.

Maybe it's the size difference, or it could be the rough treatment, maybe even the way his eyes look at you like you were his prey, but it has a jolt of pure lust cursing through your body to pool down between your legs, pussy so wet you can almost feel it dripping down your legs.

You smirk at him, hand trailing down to touch your drenched pussy. You're so, so wet right now, juices making your lacy panties cling to your lower lips, almost uncomfortable.

With one finger you trace your clit, desperately biting your bottom lip, so your traitorous mouth wouldn't let any sounds while you hold Mr. Fushiguro's gaze.

You feel him tensing against you, hips rolling against your belly and if you would look down, you would see the wet spot his wiping cock is leaving on his sweatpants.

“I think you like my mouth,” you say, humming when he sticks the thumb that was caressing your lip on your mouth, now caressing your tongue with the pad of his finger.

His skin tastes salty, and you can't help but suckle on it as if it were the head of his cock, closing your eyes just with the thought of licking it.

You're so wet your own fingers on your pussy are making the sluttiest noises, the little wet sounds resonating with your sweet whimpers and his fast breathing.

“Greedy little slut” he hisses, hands descending to grab your ass so hard it probably will leave marks. He spreads you open, and it just makes you even wetter, pussy clenching, crying with loneliness “I'll feed this hungry cunt with my seed until it can't take it anymore” he growls, and you can't help yourself, you stick two of your fingers on yourself, pussy clenching around your fingers, but it's not enough, it's not the giant cock pressed against your belly.

Toji eyes are focused on your face, on the way your mouth is open and letting out little whimpers just for him to hear, he can hear clearly your desperate fingers trying to reach on your sweet spot, wide eyes begging him to just bend you over the counter and fuck you like an animal.

And then you both hear a little sound coming from the second floor, and your eyes widen, blush deepening to your neck and running down, down, down, until it's covered by the shirt you're wearing.

Toji wants to see where it goes. Unfortunately, you let go of him faster than he is capable, hands still holding and massaging your ass, but when he hears Megumi's steps descending the stairs he can't help but huff in frustration, letting you go slowly, but not before he pinches the side of your hip, probably leaving a bruise there.

He smirks at your frown, if it weren't Megumi he wouldn't even care about someone watching, but the brat is already mad for some reason, if he sees Toji fucking one of his friends he will probably flip.

Still, he looks at your bitten lips, the way your hair is even more unkempt than when he got home, and then, he looks at your glistening fingers, drenched in your juices, and he chuckles, picking your hand up and shoving them in his mouth.

“Fuuuck” he groans around your little digits, “You're so fucking sweet, kitten.” he whispers, tongue rolling around between your fingers, licking every little drop.

He bets your thighs are just or even more drenched in juice and his cock throbs at the thought. Toji wants to be inside you so fucking bad.

Megumi calls your name, letters rolling out of his mouth awkwardly, and Toji notices he's probably still drunk. You seem to notice it too and faster than Toji could even stop, your fingers are out of his mouth, and you're on your knees, in front of him, face just inches of his cock right when Megumi rounds down the corner of the door.

You put your little index finger in front of your lips, the universal signal for him to keep quiet, and he can't help, he shakes his head in amusement at the same time his abdomen clenches with pure desire.

The cheek of this woman, he thinks to himself. How could Megumi bring to him someone just the way he likes?

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