"𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩, 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨".
A collection of one-shots, starring the Kimetsu No Yaiba characters. Walk through the rooms of the Infinity Fortress and search for the Alternative Universe you would love to experience.
This collection contai...
Plot: You knew Muzan like the back of your hand. Working as his secretary, you witnessed to his mood swings and you knew damn well when it was better off to keep your distance from him. However, it was time for some tea and you honestly could not wait to serve your boss with a treat he liked to claim when he was upset. ﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
Your scalp felt numb from the cruel grip on your hair. Tears streamed down your cheeks, some of the salty droplets violently splashing onto the mahogany desk of your boss's office with each brutal thrust of his hips. Your glasses, the ones he had demanded you to wear, ignoring if you actually needed them to see or not, were sliding down your nose and you could not push them back up, or remove them. Your hands had been bounded by one of his hands, the grip so tight to bruise your wrists.
You should have expected him to react so ferally, when you waltzed into the room without knocking on the door, after some of his subordinates had clearly left him with a foul mood to deal with. To be honest, this was what you wanted. Asking him which blend of tea he preferred to sip on, stupidly standing on the threshold with that scanty dress of yours was nothing but your attempt to get under his skin. If getting fucked dry was what you were yearning for that afternoon, Muzan was more than compliant to satisfy your whim.
Mr. Kibutsuji grunted, head lolling back as your sappy cunt milked him up deliciously. His hands roughly spread your ass cheeks, hips moving slower now, his length dragging along your spongy walls to enjoy the sight of his cock disappearing between your slippery folds.
"Look at how wet you are, you whore! One wrong move and I might slip out" he scolded you, slamming his hips against yours harder this time. Your ass jiggled, a sob escaping your lips for the overstimulation he was forcing you to endure. It was not unusual of him to treat you so coldly, brutally, as if you were nothing but a piece of meat.
Muzan scoffed, the open palm of his hand landing harshly on the tender flesh of your right rear. Your cries and whimpers were a symphony he wished was recorded, so that he could play it on repeat even in the privacy of his bedroom, when he had no one to fuck to oblivion to alleviate his stress. Masturbating on you, though, was better than bringing home the first frivolous girl he met at the bar, or at social events. Those women could not quench his thirst as you did.
Now as he rotated his hips against yours, you clenched around him and slammed the open palm of your hand over the desk, teary eyes looking at the door anxiously. You were sure everyone knew what was going on between you two by now. You were uncapable to keep it loud. Yet, you also knew that staying silent, impossible anyway, would have not pleased your boss. You had learned to value his personal fulfillment more than your dignity and your sense of shame had been long gone since the first time he had bent you over that desk.
The elastic band of your panties was unforgivingly bruising your inner thigh, where it had been pushed by his deft fingers to expose you. He had not even bother undressing you two. Unbuckling his belt, unzipping his trousers and pushing your undergarment to the side was good enough for him.
"How does it feel knowing you are nothing by a cock sleeve?" he hissed suddenly, hand slipping underneath you to seek your clitoris.
You closed your eyes, cheek resting against the hard wood beneath you "G-Good. It feels good, Muzan" you breathed out, the extra pleasure engulfing your belly almost overwhelming you. It was too much. Fluids oozed out of you copiously, while the blissful, mind-blowing sensation of orgasming not even provided you some sort of relief. Exhausted, you soon regretted your words as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced you to strain your neck.
The warm breath escaping his lips in heavy pants wafted over your jawline "How did you call me?".
You refused to answer. Swallowing thickly, the glimpse of his enraged expression made your insides twist in anticipation. You had not even thought about the rules he had set between you two. You were too drained to formulate a reasonable reply, or merely thinking before babbling out what he considered insults.
A harsh tug on your hair made you whimper, his cock still nestled deep into you "Answer me!".
"Muzan! I called you Muzan!".
"Is that how I told you to address me?" he thundered, mouth finding an exposed portion of skin between your neck and the shoulder, teeth leaving their mark behind.
You wept underneath him, tears falling from your lashes nonstop at this point. He had instructed you about your intercourses. You did not have a 'safe word', but you were well-aware that he would have let you go if you behaved. All you had to do was giving him what he wanted.
"No, it's not! — you blurted out, pressing your hips up against his navel out of a reflex you could not control — I'm dismayed! K-Kibutsuji... Mr. Kibutsuji, please! I can't hold on any longer" you whimpered out, this time striking a chord in his otherwise detached heart.
Muzan was a cold-blooded man. He did not pay any mind to the people around him. He only took decisions beneficial to him, without self-doubting at all. Despite that, when he began to gently thrust into you, lips leaving small kissed over your cheek you could not help yourself but esteem him a generous man.
You were not capable to climax again, but you were delighted when he finished deep inside you. A moment after he composed himself, he made it his problem to clean up the excess of seed seeping out of your abused hole. Fixing back your underwear and skirt, he left you a glass of water to drink beside you head, before going back home. Once again, it was your duty to close the office.
When you finally pushed yourself back up, legs shaky and ache in your private parts, you knew only one thing for sure: Muzan Kibutsuji was a devil of his word.
