Hi please can I request (dom) yeosang and dumbification? <3 idk why but him and that kink go so well together
send me a kink + a member for a smutty drabble!! (closed.)
pairing: kang yeosang x reader. | genre: rival!yeosang, nerd!yeosang, nerd!reader, smut. | warnings: dom!yeosang, sub!reader, oral (m receiving), face fucking, dumbification kink, degradation kink. | word count: 755. | hyde’s input: i'm all about self-empowerment but,,, i would let kang yeosang degrade me any day of the week. this is unedited!!!
nobody likes the taste of defeat.
it’s stomach twisting, ego bruising, confidence shaking. with a fear for failure present in humans since the dawn of time, failing to find success can leave a person confused, frazzled, unsure of what to do next and how to make sure such a thing never happens again. defeat tastes of sickeningly sour candy and rotten milk and achievements not reached.
or, at least it did before.
defeat now tastes of salted skin and unshed tears and aching jaws, humiliation soiling your soul while your body busies itself with soiling your underwear, covering it in the sickening slick of your sinful arousal.
“open your mouth wider, whore.” his hand is struggling to undo his tie, his once perfectly styled hair now a disheveled mess of dark locks. his other hand has found a grip on your hair, gripping and pulling and tugging it to try get your head in the perfect angle for his own gain, his own pleasure.
teary eyes meet his disinterested ones, staring up at him and his stupid gold medal from the ground below. you shift and choke back a whine as you feel your knees scrape against the hard surface of the floor. the noise seems to please him, urging him to give an experimental roll of his hips, taking away the little control you had over the situation.
with fascination, and a level of marvel he’ll never admit to, kang yeosang, the newly named champion of the debate team, watches his hardened cock slide in and out of your waiting mouth, dragging over your tongue and brushing the back of your throat. the laugh he gives as you choke on his tip is sadistic, borderline evil.
just once, you’d wanted something for yourself. a place where you could thrive, have fun a something you were good at without it having to become a great challenge for you. but, no, of course the devil that is kang yeosang just couldn’t let you have that, signing up for the team only a week after you.
involuntarily, you whine when he pulls back completely, mouth now empty and eyes focused on the leaking tip in front of you and the pretty vein that runs along his hand as slowly wraps it around his cock.
“did you just- did you just fucking whine for my cock, y/n?” he’s bewildered, more surprised and turned on that he’d ever like to admit. this isn’t even the first, second, third time in your rivalry that he’s had you on your knees yet it’s getting to him more than ever, something about the way your cheeks are still stained in the tears you’d cried after losing to him yet your eyes- and mouth- don’t seem to have the will-power to leave his hardened member sending his brain into overdrive. “do it again- shit. please do it again.”
he’s the one begging yet, somehow, the humiliation is yours, increasing by tenfold when you obey his command and whine again, a wordless, near breathless plead to have him use your mouth again.
yeosang snaps back into action, hand griping your air tighter than ever before while the other safely guides himself back into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth, a fucked out expression taking over him for a moment when your tongue flattens against the underside of his cock.
and then, he’s thrusting.
in and out, overwhelming your every sense and clouding every rational part of your mind with unbridled lust. when his hips thrust at a relentless pace, gone are the fears of ruining your makeup. when his balls slap against your face, gone are the worries of being too loud. when his cock hits the back of your throat over and over, gone are the possible scenarios where a fellow student or, worse, an event manager catches you two int he cramped bathroom stall.
“you like this, huh? like having your pretty face fucked?” yeosang is at a loss for breath, but not even that will stop his taunts. you can’t answer, mouth stuffed full and brain fuzzing over in arousal. “shit, you can’t even conjure up an answer, uh? what, is the little baby too dumb to give a simple yes or no? that’s okay, we both know your mouth was never meant for talking anyway.”
for you, the taste of defeat is kang yeosang.
who, for all the brains he owns and all the wit he carries, is yet to realise you’ve spent years losing to him on purpose.