•ATEEZ x F!Reader
•Oneshots
• [R] Request
•📖Plot/Story
•[M]🔞Smut!! (Please dont read if you are under 18)
•[A]Angst
•[F]Fluff
•[S] Suggestive
• 💭Imagine
•English is not my native language 🥹 Please feel free to tell me if you find anything wei...
If it weren't for the poisoning incident, you would have never found yourself entangled in this dubious competition. Standing face to face with your opponent, you pace back and forth, struggling to contain both the dissatisfaction simmering within you and the "toxins" wreaking havoc in your body.
Regret fills your mind as you reflect on your penchant for trying peculiar beverages. This time, it was a risky choice - a glass of wine spiked with aphrodisiacs. With no known antidote for these potent substances, the only way to return to normalcy is to have sex with another.
Your body burns with an intense heat, your heart races uncontrollably, and each breath feels labored. Initially, you attempted to endure the discomfort, but the physical toll becomes unbearable, severely impacting your daily life. In a moment of desperation, you find yourself at the marketplace of slave trade.
Whether it's the poison clouding your judgment or heightening your desires, the sight of the coveted "championship prize" ignites a fervor within you that cannot be contained.
Yeosang─The best sex slave in the black market.
He is dressed in a black silk suit, kneels inside a cage, his hands and feet bound by chains, resembling a peacock stripped of its freedom. His enchanting beauty seems out of place in this world, with his innocent face contrasting the bloody nature of his surroundings.
But he doesn't care about the outcome of the battle, because he is just a "prize," and the service he provides will be the same regardless of the winner.
"Oh fuck, what happened to me..." Your eyes are always on him uncontrollably. Yeosang lowers his head and looks at the handcuffs on his wrist, his face filled with sadness as he caresses the red marks left by the restraints. You observe all of this, but quickly refocus on the upcoming fight.
Ho, you must be crazy because of that fucking alcohol. Why do you feel pity when you kill people for a living? Why do you have to compete in person when you can obviously solve the problem with money?
Just fuck it.
You take a deep breath and focus on the game again. Both of you wait in anticipation, expecting your enemies to initiate the attack.
You glare at each other with terrifying eyes, your hearts pounding. In your mind, you calculate your attacking strategy, contemplating how to strike and end the fight in one blow.
However, the crowd grows impatient, eager to witness the arena drenched in blood.
