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sweets3rial · 1 month

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i wanted it to be you.

ch. 1 // ch. 2

di!leon x fem!reader

summary: you wanted it to be him. he wanted it to be you. though, life is unfair. you don't always get what you want.

tags: much angst, some comfort, pining, talks about the past, talks about past relationships, flashbacks, ex-bf lsk, engagement/marriage, cheating/infidelity, affair, smut, car sex, p-in-v, unprotected sex, fingering, mating press, creampie, slow and sensual (?), regret, and even more sadness.

warnings: cheating on spouse (not cheating on leon and leon not cheating on reader)

word count: 7.5k

the sunset has always brought peace to Leon. it was like a rinse, a reminder that his day was ending and starting for someone else across the globe.

a reminder that the day was fading into night and then would fade into morning then night again. it was a peaceful goodbye, silent and celebrated by some in the world.

the orange, pink, blue, and purple hues brought warmth to his heart. the soft breeze blew up from the cliff and into his hair, his deep brown strands flicking into his eyes and ticking the heights of his cheekbones. his cheeks felt cold to the touch just like his heart.

unlike the beautiful view and sunset, the peaceful breeze, and the silence, the storm inside Leon was the complete opposite. his skin was littered with ugly scars that he tried his best to hide. there was a storm inside of his heart, tornados destroying his peace, and noise in his head he couldn’t clear.

he couldn’t sleep, worried about too many things he couldn’t handle or solve. he was tired but sleep only made him even more tired. the nightmares he’d face every night made it hard for him to stay asleep. he’d shoot up in a cold sweat, slapping his hands around his comforter looking for something … or someone.

nothing can erase the image of that bling, the blinding reflection of a diamond, blinding his eyes from his view of you. it wasn’t any ordinary ring, it was a wedding ring. it hurt, more than any knife or bullet that has painted scars on his body.

he couldn’t believe it. he wanted to deny that even though it’s been so long, that there was still hope. hope for the two of you, that one day time and fate would bring you back together.

but it seems like fate had other plans. someone else caught your eye, maybe he’s better, maybe he’s enough, maybe he can be there for you the ways Leon couldn’t.

all while, Leon has been waiting. he stares into the sunset and it reminds him of the warmth of your skin and the shine of your smile. he is planted onto the ground instead of floating on a high like he was when he was with you. he cries and he doesn’t have you to hug him.

he stirs in his sleep and he doesn’t have you to calm him. he gets home tired and he doesn’t have you to lull him into a peaceful sleep. he’d fall into the crook of your neck, practically putting all his weight on you and you’d accept it with your arms wide open.

you could barely wrap your arms around him but you still tried, running your hand up and down his back, cooing into his ear and placing soft kisses to his tears. it’s funny how two people can go from cuddling skin to skin to absolutely nothing in a day.

even though he’s seen every inch of your body, held you in your most vulnerable states, touched you in places no one else can, spoken to you about the future, he even met your family. all that only for you to treat each other like strangers. he’s nothing but a stranger now. it’s not fair.

he should be the one getting down on one knee and proposing to you. he should’ve been the one to see you clasp your mouth in shock and watch the tears of joy well in your eyes. he should’ve slid that ring onto your finger, he should’ve been the one.

that man that you married doesn’t even know your jewelry of choice. he had no taste. Leon knew you much better than that.

his fist clenched in the pocket of his leather jacket.

it should’ve been him.

he jumped at the sound of a car door shutting behind him, his head whipping around and his muscles tensing.

it was you.

you had just crawled out from your car — parked next to Leons. your facial expression was indiscernible but he could tell you were shocked to see him. though, you weren’t alarmed. he watched as you pursed your lips, “you’re here.”

it was more of a statement rather than a question. the sound of your voice instantly stilled the storm in his mind. suddenly, there were clear skies and sunlight. no more rain and thunder. no more noise. just silence and peace.

there you were, standing there so casually in a sweater and jeans. nothing has changed but at the same time so much was different.

he shrugged, hands still in his pockets.

“i’m here,”

he watched your lips curve into a chuckle, he wasn’t sure if his heart had stopped or if his heart was racing at a rapid pace.

you were just as beautiful as the day he lost you. it left him speechless at how gorgeous you can be, in any setting, with any hairstyle, wearing any clothes — preferably his clothes. he loved it watching you dig through his dresser to pull out any old t-shirt.

it’s all you would wear around the house. his clothes.

your head dipped down as you walked towards him. slow footsteps, dead leaves at your feet crunching as you got closer and closer. he could feel his heart speed up with each step. blood rushing to the tip of his ears and his cheeks, now warm with a small blush.

you slowed your steps down at a tree — your tree. your hand ran over the initials carved into the bark. your heart instantly stung at the sight and memories were quick to play in your head.

it was a late night, both you and Leon had leaned up against this very tree.

you two were enjoying the peace and he was pointing out the constellations in the sky. you weren’t keeping memory of what stars connected to make this instead, you were looking at him. listening to him speak.

you always loved listening to his passions.

there was a certain glimmer in his eyes that always captured your eye, that glimmer that indicated he was happy or excited. if you asked him what his favorite band was, he’d spark up, or even when you’d laugh at his horrible jokes. his eyes would gleam, his smile would grow and his face would no longer look so … tense.

it hurts that you haven’t seen that look in a while.

you smiled, tracing the tip of your finger over the ‘scar’. he had carved your initials into the tree and back then, it was still bright green and fresh. you remember laughing at how he struggled to carve a heart with the tip of his combat knife. it was cliche, something kids would do, but you were kids back then. free and in love.

you let your hand fall back into the pocket of your jeans as you continued walking towards him. he kept his eyes on you the whole way, still as enamored as he was before.

no, he couldn’t be. you were going to be married soon.

“how are you?” he asked while clearing his throat.

“i’m…” you paused looking out into the horizon. meanwhile, he was stuck looking at you. the orange light from the sun warmed up your skin beautifully, a natural glow highlighting the tip of your nose and your cheekbones.

he is reminded too much of the memories you two made when he looks at you.

he loved kissing the tip of your nose and nudging the tip of his into your cheeks. you’d complain at how cold the tip of his nose was and then he’d instantly warm your skin with a kiss.

“i’m alright, how about you?” you finished staring back at him. if you were being honest, you weren’t alright. you were having many many doubts.

did you get engaged too fast? are you even in love? should you have said yes? is he the right man? will the wedding be a disaster? who are you going to invite?

all these thoughts were rushing through your head and you needed peace and quiet. so you went to the only place that could relatively give you that. your spot, the one you shared with your past lover.

“i’m still standing, aren’t i?”

you chuckled, such a Leon thing to say.

“also, uh congrats,” his hand left his pocket and gestured down at your left hand. instantly, the cold weight of your wedding band became apparent to you and a chill ran through you. hiding your hand behind your back, you smiled up at him.

you knew how much it hurt him, you could see the pain and the dullness in his eyes. they weren’t glimmering, he wasn’t happy.

“thanks,” you smiled, timidly.

“when’s the wedding?”

“um, don’t know, still trying to figure that out,” you breathed out, tucking a coil behind your ear. “just like everything else in my life,” you mumbled out the last part but Leon heard it all along with the fact that you were wearing earrings.

‘i uh,’ he was bad at giving presents. he always was. he wasn’t sure if the recipient would like it or not.

‘i got you these but-‘

‘Leon! ‘ he watched your eyes shoot open as he brought the small velvet box into your view.

‘yes?’ he asked with a lift of his brow before flicking open the box. a set of beautiful earrings that were small and childish but they reminded him of you.

‘oh! i love them!’

‘out of all the things i bought you, these are your favorite?’ he tsked, tucking your hair behind your ear as he prepared to put them on for you.

‘i know but they’re cute,’

‘silly goose,’

he’s seen you happy many times before but that was pure joy. the way you jumped into his arms and hugged him with the grip of a gorilla. they were simple earrings from a small shop, but he watched as you grazed your fingers over them in awe.

you asked how much they were and winced back at the price. nothing was too expensive to Leon, as long as it was for you.

his heart dropped at the sight of those earrings, they don’t even match your necklace-

actually, they do.

‘babe, want this?’

‘huh?’ you turned towards him away from speaking with another employee.

‘they match your earrings,’ he tapped at your earlobes causing them to jiggle.

‘leon, it’s expensi-‘ you were cut off by him placing a finger to your lips while shaking his head.

‘shush.’

‘you don’t have to.’ he smiled, placing a small kiss to your lips.

‘i want to.’

you’re wearing the matching necklace as well. both contrasting against your ring. one being gold the other being silver. he knew how persistent you were about matching your jewelry to your outfits and to one another.

you never wore gold and silver at the same time. so why?

your hair dropped back down in front of your face with a gust of wind, hiding away your earrings.

Leon steered his attention away from you and back down to his feet, “your hair is longer,” he commented.

you lifted your hand up and tugged at a strand of your hair, “oh yeah, i guess so,”

you haven’t even noticed, funny how time moves so fast but yet so slow for you. it only feels like yesterday that you and Leon were up here, sitting on a blanket and watching the day fade into the night. your hair was much shorter back then.

“it looks good, suits you,”

“thanks,”

the tension was only getting thicker and thicker. this was the first time you two actually talked ever since … god knows when. when you two broke up maybe? it left a bitter taste on your tongue whenever you thought back to it.

it reminded you that you and Leon rarely argued. you two both worked in the same field, you both understood the weight and responsibility it was to be an agent.

but sometimes, when you love someone so much, you tend to ball up a lot of emotions in order not to hurt them.

it was about time that you both would explode.

“why are you here?” you suddenly spoke up, finally cutting the tension down a little.

“i’m thinking of you…” Leon spoke honestly, “of us,”

he watched as you froze, eyebrows curving upwards and the corner of your lips dropping into a frown.

“Leon-“

“i am happy for you,” he was quick to cut you off, raising his voice over yours.

“stop,” you mumbled out, dropping your head to avoid his gaze.

“but why? how…” he paused, collecting his anger. he licked his lips and looked down at you. he watched as you bit your bottom lip and screwed your eyes shut.

“why couldn’t we work?” he asked pointing between the both of you.

“we were hurt, Leon,” you sighed, blinking away a tear before it could fall as you looked up at him. when you met his blue eyes, your heart sank. he was so hurt. he was still hurt. even after years, he is still hurt.

“and hurt people hurt people.”

his sad blue eyes always hurt you more than any wound ever inflicted upon you. seeing him sad could easily bring you to your knees, as it is your biggest weakness. you were convinced that nothing could hurt you more than Leon.

“we could’ve worked it out, we could’ve talked, gone to couples therapy,” he took a step closer to you, his body felt weak almost as if he had broken every bone in his body. “we could’ve done something,”

“i did something! i moved on, okay!” you suddenly shouted out at him, causing him to pause. “i found someone who can communicate and i found someone who doesn’t bottle up and hide away, he loves me-“

“does he?” Leon grimaced, you pursed your lips and hid away from him. almost, as if you were ashamed. he continued to slowly approach you as if you were a timid animal. he was gentle and slow.

“see, don’t do that-“

“he doesn’t even know half of you, he doesn’t know you like i do,”

“Leon, stop.”

even if you told him to stop, you weren’t moving away. you two were opposite sides of a magnet, you couldn’t help but attract each other.

the smell of his cologne was dragging you back to him, the smell of his sweat and his shampoo. the sound of his voice. the warmth radiating off of him.

it was something you were so used to. it was home.

he grabbed ahold of your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. you instantly melted into him, the feeling of his rough palms was always better than anyone else. you could recognize his touch out of a thousand men.

he was never rough, he was always gentle. he used his hands to kill but to also touch and soothe.

“please,” he whispered out. a breeze coming from behind you lifted the scent of your perfume off your skin and into Leon. you always had a signature scent, one that had his mind in a frenzy whenever it hit him.

“i know your dream ring by heart, like the back of my hand.” he huffed out. you couldn’t help but breathe out the air caught in your lungs. he reached up slowly with his other hand, brushing your hair back to reveal your earrings.

“they matched these exact earrings,” his hand traveled down to pick up the pendant of your necklace, “and this necklace.”

as he turned the pendant around, your initials were carved on the back, the same font and style as your initials on the tree. he still remembers going to the jeweler and asking him to engrave those two letters, with a really bad heart around them.

showing him the picture of the initials carved onto the tree. you must treasure her. he had said and Leon replied, more than she’ll ever know.

“why do you still have these?”

“because…they’re my favorite.” you couldn’t lie. out of the plethora of necklaces and earrings, you always reached for this pair. telling your fiance lies; oh, they were a gift from my father.

“because they’re from you and i can’t let them go, i can’t…” you trailed off, looking down at his chapped lips. he was biting on the inside of his cheek, you could tell. you remember telling him so many times not to do so, you didn’t like it when he was anxious.

you would always remind him that you were right there beside him, even if he was all alone.

no words could explain what you were feeling right now. it was a mix of anger and sadness.

but it wasn’t the type of anger that made you want to lash out, it was the type of anger that made you want to cry and walk away. but the sadness was something else, it made you want to curl up into his chest and stay there.

it made you want to go home. but home was where Leon was.

Leon was the first man you’ve ever loved. you wanted him to be your first and your last. you remember looking at him and seeing a peaceful future. you thought, after you two split, that you were going to be able to start over again.

with someone new, something fresh. but your fiance, he wasn’t Leon. he was great in his own way. he was handsome and kind. he was smart and caring. but he wasn’t Leon.

sometimes, his voice would morph into Leons. his laugh would sound like Leon's. his pattern of breathing sounded like Leon's. you couldn’t escape him or maybe you just couldn’t let him go.

“are you happy?”

his question caught you off guard, your eyebrows scrunched up at him, and you were slightly taken aback and sure that he meant something else. though, once you looked into his eyes you knew he was serious. “what?”

“does he make you happy?“

“stop.” you shook your head.

“answer the question,” he gulped down the lump in his throat, searching for something and anything in your eyes to prove that he was wrong.

“yes,” you stammered out. his hopes died then and he nodded slowly, understanding that there was no longer a place for him in your heart anymore. he was happy that you were happy, but he just wished you were happy with him.

he let go of your hand, letting it drop to his side.

“but,” he was taken aback when you reached back for his. you wrapped your hand around his pinky, halting him in his steps. “i’ll never love him like i loved you.”

his eyes flickered up to yours, only to meet the top of your head as your head was tilted downwards towards the ground. you were fighting back tears, your bottom lip shaking.

“he makes me happy but the very thought of you has me overjoyed,” you looked back up at him, a tear slipping out from the corner of your eye and the tip of your nose swelling red.

“he buys me designer clothes but i still wear your sweatpants i stole five years ago i-“ you continued to ramble and Leon just listened, his heart fluttering with every word. he never thought he’d hear those words spill from your pretty lips.

“i still come here almost every day to look at the constellations you showed me,” you sucked in a deep breath, “i drive by the house, our house,”

you let the tears fall freely as his hand slowly intertwined with yours again. he thought you didn’t pay any mind to him, that he was just a lost memory to you, that you couldn’t care less about him but…

“i still have all your gifts, your letters, your trashy collectibles, i…” you paused to suck in another deep breath, your hands shaking in his but you calmed down at the wind blowing his cologne your way. he was here in front of you and finally, you could tell him the truth. the one you’ve wanted to tell him for a long time.

“i wanted it to be you.”

Leon's breath faltered as the words left your mouth. you wanted it to be him, not anyone else.

without another word, he tugged you closer to him. it was a matter of seconds before his lips found yours, enveloping them in his warmth and passion. you reciprocated his kiss instantly. a tear falling down your cheek and meeting the corner of your mouth.

he could taste the salty tear in your kiss, and it reminded him of the days he would spend kissing away your tears after you had a nightmare or cuddling you to his chest as you ruined another shirt with your tears.

his arms wrapped around the small of your back, bringing you closer to him as he pressed deeper into your kiss. he was holding onto you so tight to the point it was hard to breathe and even harder to stay put on two feet.

his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, both eagerly and hungrily. as he did so, you opened your mouth for him. his tongue met yours in a wet frenzy, and he moaned into your mouth as his grip on you only grew stronger.

you took a few steps back, feeling as if you were going to fall. he only followed you in pursuit, up until you had backed up into the tree. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. your kiss was becoming sloppy, with wet lips and fighting tongue.

he gave your thigh a quick two taps and you knew exactly what that meant. you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist and he smirked against your lips. the fact you remembered, even after all these years, drove him insane.

you let him carry you wherever he wanted, you didn’t care to look or pull away from his lips. you trusted him. if he were to take you away right now, you would go. you’d leave with him and live the life you always wanted…with him.

he pressed you up against his passenger door, unintentionally slamming your body into the metal. the only time Leon was ever rough was during times like this. desperation, hunger, and pure lust. his hand frantically searched for the back door handle.

the minute he got it open, one minute you were pressed against the door and the next you were being thrown into his backseat. you landed on his leather seats with a loud thud, your chest heaving up and down as you stared at him.

his eyes were no longer gentle or sweet, they were filled with lust and something devious. but also something so deep and passionate. he was hungry but he was never greedy.

he slowly crawled into the car as you crawled away. he was out of breath, cheeks flushed and lips swollen pink. you looked up at him as he slowly crawled on top of you.

he hooked his foot into the door handle and he pulled his knee up to shut the door. his eyes stayed on yours, he didn’t want to waste another word or breath. he slid his fingers through your hair, taking a hold of the back of your head.

it suddenly dawned on you what had happened and what you two were doing. he was leaning down to meet your lips once again and you forgot. to you now, this was another late night, you two had just carved your initials onto the tree and he had just got his new car.

he was still blonde and your hair was shorter. he didn’t have his bullet wound and you didn’t have a scar on your hip. you didn’t have this heavy ring on your finger and you were still young.

you leaned up onto your elbows, meeting him halfway with just as much heat. his hand traveled up your thigh, guiding you to wrap your leg around his waist once again and you followed. just like before, you followed his every instruction.

“god, i missed you,” he breathed out with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. he then traveled down your jaw, with slow wet kisses. your whole body shivered as he found that spot just south of your earlobe. you sucked in a shaky breath.

“Leon, please,”

“patience, my love,” he tsked. your legs tightened around his neck, even though he said you needed patience, you needed him. you missed him so much, a part of that was the sex. the sex was fucking amazing. it always was, from the very first time you met until now.

he fucked you in a way you could never comprehend. he knew just the right things that had the breath leaving your body and your heart leaping out of your chest.

as he kissed at your collarbone, his hands were traveling up your sweater. large, hot, and rough. his hands felt like sand paper against your soft skin but god it felt so good. you let out a trembling breath as you ground your hips into the buckle of his belt.

he groaned at the friction, grinding his erection down to meet your hips. he could feel your heartbeat pulsing at your heat through both of his jeans. it was evident that you both were in dire need of each other.

his calloused hands cupped at your bare breast and he groaned into your skin at the feeling of your bare skin. something he hasn’t felt in so long, your warm and soft skin. his cock jumped in his jeans, just the taste of your skin has driven him crazy.

he felt dizzy, he hadn’t breathed or blinked ever since his lips hit yours. he didn’t want to waste a single taste or glance. he circled both of your pebbled nipples with his thumbs, smirking at the small whine that left your mouth.

“no bra, huh?”

“shut up,” you grumbled, beyond sexually frustrated.

he couldn’t help but laugh as he dragged your sweater off of your body. he tossed it somewhere in his front seat and you could see in his eyes that excitement.

he stared at your breast in complete awe, your body was something Leon worshipped. you were his god and he was all but a simple beggar on the street.

he always stared at you as if you were some distinct painting; taking note of every small detail, every mole and every scar. even if he’s seen you a thousand times, he always acts like its the first time he’s laid eyes on you.

“my gorgeous, gorgeous girl,” he sighed, his lips meeting yours in a quick kiss, “how can you be so perfect?”

your heart fluttered at his words, he never failed to have you utterly speechless.

you trailed your hands over his shoulders and underneath his leather jacket. as you slowly worked his jacket off of him, eyes watching every inch of skin slowly being revealed to you. his muscles flexed underneath his t-shirt as he shrugged his jacket off and threw it somewhere into the front of the car.

he then pulled his t-shirt over his head in a quick and rushed manner, throwing it along with the rest of his clothes. he’s grown more muscle and definitely bulked up since you’d last seen him. he’s always been so perfect. his body was nice and toned, decorated with firm and chiseled muscle. he was like a marble statue, the ones in the museum with gorgeous proportions and sharp features.

how can he be so perfect?

he leaned back over you, and rather than your lips in less of a rush of lust, he kissed you slowly and passionately. the feeling of your sensitive nipples brushing up against his warm chest made you shake and let out a small whine.

his hand traveled up your side again, taking your breast into his palm, and squeezing your nipple between his index and middle finger. you shuddered, a small moan leaving your lips as his other hand traveled down to the button of your jeans.

he worked his way around the hem of your jeans to take off both your jeans and your panties at the same time. you reached down for his belt, struggling to unbuckle it whilst also struggling to shimmy your pants off of your hips.

the windows of the car were beginning to fog up, you could barely see the outside, any light shining through was only a smudged blur. it was getting harder to breathe and much harder to think. as you kicked your jeans off, you were quick to help push off his.

you both were as loud as you wanted, the sound of moans mixed with wet kisses and heaving breaths.

“i need you, i need you,” you panted out like a prayer.

he kissed down your chest, bringing your nipple into his mouth while his hand soothed the inside of your legs — sticky with sweat and arousal. you keened under his touch, your thighs shaking and your clit aching.

you clenched around nothing, desperate for his touch. in your mind, you were counting down the seconds until he touched you. counting each inch that his fingers traced up your thigh. it was when his fingers slotted between your damp folds you broke.

a desperate sob left your lips and your hips bucked. he moaned into your skin, pulling away from your nipple with a pop. “so wet, all for me,” he breathed out, pressing a small kiss to your breast.

his fingers prodded at your hole, collecting the arousal that dripped when you clenched around nothing. he could tell you were so eagerly waiting for him. eyes gleaming down at him and watching his every move.

his thumb found your clit and he applied the right amount of pressure that had you arching your back with a small wail. the leather of the seats were hot, there was condensations dripping down the windows and it smelt heavy of sex and his cologne.

“tell me, tell me what you need, baby,” he heaved out against your cheek.

“i need you, i want … you,” you replied, out of breath and strength. with that, his inserted one of his fingers, the small stretch was enough to have your jaw hanging open and your legs quivering out of control. nothing and no one has ever had this much of an effect on you, not even fear.

but Leon, he could make you weak with a simple glance.

as you clenched around his finger, Leon found it hard to breathe. you were so warm and dripping all over his palm, he could smell your sex everywhere in the car, it was sweet and god it was good. he screwed his eyes shut, trying to contain his composure but you were driving him wild.

each moan that spilled your lips with every stroke of his finger, he was teetering on the edge of sanity.

he inserted another finger, slowly and carefully. he didn’t want to hurt you, but watching as your eyebrows curled upwards and your head tilt back, he knew he was doing everything but hurting you.

a deep moan spilled from your tongue as he curled his fingers up into your gummy walls. at the same time, his thumb pressed circled against your clit.

“oh god, please-“

“calling on god in a situation like this is pretty sinful of you, baby,” he snickered. you wanted to slap him across the face for such a comment but you could barely process his words, your mind was too focused on the pleasure he was giving you and drooling at the thought of his cock.

he could feel you pulsing around him whilst dripping with need. each curl of his fingers earned him a thristy moan and a squelch. he kissed down your neck, in between the navel of your breasts, and down you stomach. until he reached you abdomen.

he sucked at your skin, hoping to leave a mark where it wasn’t too noticeable. the pressure on your abdomen along with the pressure of his fingers curling inside of you caused your legs to clamp around him.

“fuck!” you whined out, carding your fingers through his hair. one of his hands traveled up underneath your thighs, bringing them to rest on his shoulders. your chest rose up and down with excitement, your heart thrumming up against the cage of your ribcage and sweat trickling down your face.

you took a moment to admire him, kissing at your abdomen while his fingers circled at your swollen clit. he was so pretty. his blue eyes seemed to glow, even if it was dark. the moonlight shining through the foggy windows highlighted the messy strands of his hair and made out every feature of his face.

his jaw, his straight nose and his hooded eyes. he was beautiful, in between your thighs, standing in the sunlight, standing in the moonlight, asleep or awake, he was just beautiful.

his lips traveled up between your thighs, kissing at the fat and nipping at your skin. you jumped at the feeling off his teeth but still you loved it. his tongue ran along the small bite mark before he created another.

“mmm Leon,”

“shhh,” he soothed, nudging his nose into your plump skin.

he removed his fingers from your aching cunt with a small pop and before you could whine in protest, he tapped the side of your thigh because he knew that you were going to whine.

once you shut up, he smirked against your inner thigh and brought up his slicked fingers up to your mouth. you opened your mouth and allowed him to place his fingers onto your tongue.

you swirled your tongue around his digits before sucking your slick off of them. he groaned at the sight of you sucking his fingers, eyelashes batting down at him and face glimmering with sweat.

“so dirty,” he smiled, blowing air onto your clit. you shivered at the sensation.

he kissed down your thigh until his tongue found your clit, flicking at the bud with the tip of his tongue all while looking in your eyes to watch your reaction. you moaned around his fingers, lifting your hips — eager for more.

“patience, my love,” he pressed a kiss to your clit while taking his fingers out from your mouth with a pop.

he slowly crawled over you, leaving kisses in his path. he finally reached your chin, placing a kiss there and then to your lips. he sucked in a deep breath through his nose, letting his hand run down your side until he guided your thigh back around his torso.

he stroked himself a few times, groaning against your lips. when his tip nudged your clit, you opened your mouth with a moan, allowing him to stroke his tongue along yours.

“tell me if it hurts,” he whispered to you, you gave him a reassuring nod and he shook his head.

“i need your word-“

“yes, yes! i’ll tell you,”

he slowly sank into you, watching your facial expressions keenly. you were overtaken with pleasure, your jaw hanging open at the painful stretch but also a moan boiling in your throat from your ache being relieved.

he reached up for the car window behind you, looking for some grip. he left a hand print on the foggy window as his fingers trailed down to the handle. a groan left his lips and he buried his face into your neck, “fuck, so tight.”

your gummy walls were pulsing around him, making it hard for him to breathe. you were so wet and so warm, making it easy for him to thrust in without any problem. Leon felt like a teenage boy all over again, ready to burst within seconds.

his swollen tip pressed against your cervix and a whine left your lips. your toes curled and you struggled to suck in a breath, “so good,” you managed to squeak out, clawing at his back to leave scars.

he slowly rocked his hips into you, grunting at each small thrust. you wrapped your legs around him, begging him to go deeper even if it hurt. one hand stayed on his back while the other ran up the nape of his neck and into his hair.

“god, you’ve always taken my cock so well,” he whispered out into your ear, with that he began thrusting into you, causing your body to jolt and bounce with every connection of your hips. they were so and deep thrusts.

he wanted you to feel every inch of his cock and he wanted to watch your face contort as his tip hit your g-spot every time.

you arched your back into a moan and he took this chance to wrap his arms underneath you. he wanted to keep you pressed to him, he wanted to feel you because he knew this would be the last time. he knew you’d both regret your actions once the passion has died down but he wanted to live in the moment. he didn’t want to think of consenquences after this.

he just needed to feel you one last time.

“faster,” you begged, kissing the lobe of his ear. chills ran down his spine at the feeling of your hot breath and your dragged out words. he obeyed without question, pounding into you at a pace that has you sobbing. the car shook underneath you guys and both of you were sure any hikers could hear and guess what was going on inside his tinted jeep.

“this pussy’s so good, fuck,” he seethed through his teeth, opening his mouth to bite down onto your collarbone.

“mm fuck,” you whined out, tossing your head back and clenching your legs around him tighter. you could feel his cock throbbing inside of you, with every thrust there was a wave sent through you. you could feel him in your bones. the tension was only getting tighter, your limbs were on fire but you liked the burn.

you tugged him away from sucking at your breats and your chest, guiding his lips to yours in a rushed manor. you wanted to taste him. his teeth clashes against yours but it wasn’t long until you both found a rhythm.

he moaned into your mouth, ignoring the ache in his chest from the amount of air. you were his air. he could breathe when he was around you, he felt light. you were his fix. you were his drug. you were his lifeline.

you controlled whether his heart beat or stop. you controlled whether he was happy or sad. you controlled his mind, body, and soul. you had complete control over him and you just didn’t know it.

you parted from his lips, a string of saliva snapping back onto your chin. “it’s too much,” you sobbed. you watched the inner corner of his lips twitch, almost as if he was about to smile. he brought your legs up over his shoulder, positioning you the way he wanted that way he cold fuck into you deeper.

this new angle was enough to put you on the egde, a tear slipped past your eyes and your pupils had rolled back into your skull.

“you can take it,” he heaved out, as he continued to piston into you. your brain was mush, you couldn’t speak or reply back to him. the only thing on your mind was the feeling of his cock stretching your walls and the sound of his voice.

“Leon,” you stammered out. you were clenching around him tightly, your legs shaking and your moans spilling out nonstop. he knew you were close, he could tell from the look on your face. completely fucked out of your mind, not a single thought processing.

“my beautiful girl,” he reached down for your clit, “come for me,”

he kissed another tear slipping down into your hairline as you whined beneath him. your breath was caught in your throat and you could see stars waltzing behind your eyes, you gushed around his cock while moaning out his name.

he gripped the leather by your head, every taut muscle in his body relaxing as he spilled his hot seed into you. he pressed his tip deep to your cervix, hoping you’d feel every hot rope he gave you. he kissed at your cheeks slowly, slowly rolling his hips into you as you both came down from your highs.

he was buried in the crook of your neck, heaving out deep breaths and in between them he said, “i love you.”

your heart sunk. you could physically feel it. your blood ran cold and there was a pain in your chest.

“i, i have to go,” you could feel his eyebrows scrunch against your shoulder as you sat up from underneath him. you hurriedly reached for your clothes as your sinuses began to sting and tears welled up in your eyes. you were so so stupid.

how could you have done this? how could you sleep with another man when your wedding is in mere months? not just any man, but your ex.

you struggled to slide on your panties, you skin still sticky with sweat and cum.

Leon let his head drop as he listened to you struggle and cry. he reached out for you, “honey, wait-“

“no!” you smacked him away, turning to face towards him with tears in your eyes. “i’m sorry, we should’ve never done this, i’m so sorry,” you broke down and before you knew it he was scooping you back into his arms.

you wanted to push him away but you had no strength, physically and mentally. “i should’ve never came here and-“

“shhh,” he soothed the back of your head, coaxing you into laying your head onto his shoulder.

“it’s my fault for still-” you paused suddenly. Leons breath hitched and his body went still.

“still what?”

“i’m sorry, Leon.”

you pulled away from him, refusing to look him in the eyes. it hurt too much to face him. he doesn’t know how much power he has over you. you couldn’t hide secrets or say no. you couldn’t lie to him. it breaks you to lie to him.

it hurts that you still love him so much.

you reached for your sweater in the passenger seat and throwing it on.

“answer me,” his voice cracked and with that your heart shattered. you couldn’t turn around and see him crying. you just can’t. the hem of the sweatshirt sat on your tits as you put on your jeans. your throat was aching and you were trying not to cry. you felt like a child.

“do you still love me?” he reached for your hand, stopping you from reaching for the door. you turned to face him, your eyes now puffy with tears and your lip trembling. you tried so hard not to let the tears fall but it was too late. he watched as you swallowed back a cry and let your hand fall from his.

“goodbye, Leon.”

those were the same words you spoke to him when your relationship ended years ago. it was like slow motion, his brain was catching the final moments of you. it was so odd seeing your back profile, even if he’s seen it so many times, it was odd to see it when you were leaving him.

you left Leon there in your once shared apartment.

now you leave him in a foggy car that smells just like you.

as the door opened, he was hit with the fresh night air, cooling the sweat on his body. the smell of fresh pine hit him along with the smell of your perfume. there were sounds of croaking frogs, trees dancing in the wind, crickets, and your choked back sobs.

then the car door shut. there was silence all around him. he was stuck watching your foggy figure fade away, watching you get into your car and drive off without looking back at him once. he remained frozen, unsure of what to do or say.

all he could do was let a single tears run down his cheek before he quickly wiped it away. he leaned back into his own car seat, looking up at the roof with a heavy sigh.

here comes the storm, once again.

(divider creds to @saradika ,, photos off of pinterest)

tags : @xoxoloveless @luvrgreyy @ynsvnte @satinwithsilk @childchomper1 @porcelainseashore @stefoooo @spfoah @chesue00 @puppyina @prettyntxhee

notes: if you wanna be on my tag list pls message me or fill out the form below (just to make it easier on me :D)

taglist

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #resident evil #death island leon #leon kennedy re2 #leon kennedy re4 #leon kennedy angst

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marvelfilth · 9 months

Text

Angel (18+)

Pairing: stripper!Tara Carpenter x f! lawyer!reader

Warnings: no ghostface AU, Tara is 21, R is 27, smut, lap dance, pole dance, alcohol consumption, tipsy driving (pls don't do that), fingering, a bit of degradation and praise

Summary: You need to unwind. Angel gives you more than you could have ever asked for.

Masterlist

You've had a bad month. Scratch that, you've had the worst month of your career. You've lost one of your loyal clients to a rival and your boss chewed you out over it, and, to top it off, you've lost a case you've been working on for the past four months.

You blink back the exhaustion, leaning back on the railing of your office balcony. You've been nursing your whiskey for the past hour, hoping it'll chase away your gnawing thoughts, but to no avail, you're still deep in your head, rethinking every decision that led you to this.

You check your wrist watch, the platinum glistening in the city lights, and decide to finally head home. You finally relax once you're in your car, putting the key in the ignition and driving off, leaving the day behind. You take a familiar route, driving almost on autopilot and humming along to the song on the radio, fingers drumming on the wheel.

You're almost home when you change your mind and make a sharp turn on the next intersection, heading to a place you haven't been to in months.

Two men in the front greet you with identical nods, holding the door open for you, sensual music spilling into the bustling street. Your eyes zero in on the bar, not paying any attention to the stage and the dancers, happy to see a familiar face handling alcohol tonight.

"Tough day?" Amber asks with a sympathetic smile, placing a full glass in front of you.

"Tough month," you sigh, not in the mood for a conversation.

She offers one more smile before turning to another guest, sensing your desire to be left alone. Her eyes take on a new glint, lips slightly pursed in a cute pout as she talks to a clean shaved man. You scoff in your drink and shake your head, ignoring the glare she sends you.

Leaning back against the bar you settle to simply people watch for some time, maybe get a dance or two from a pretty woman.

"You should ask for Angel," Amber says, wiping the counter. You look at her in question, your glass stopping midway to your mouth. "She's new, but she's good. You could use some unwinding and she's the best at it, trust me."

You nod slowly and ask for a refill before leaving her a tip and walking off to a secluded booth in the back of the club, settling back on the couch and trying to find a new face in the sea of dancers you already know well. Out of the corner of your eye you see Felicity, a fiery redhead with no filter. She effortlessly glides on the dancefloor in her nine inch heels, red lingerie catching eyes of gaping men with pockets full of cash. She bends in a sensual move, her thong granting a perfect view of her round ass. You hum when money starts falling in waves, making the floor disappear. She deserves that and more.

She catches your eye, brow raising suggestively, to which you shake your head no.

"Waiting for someone?" A voice whispers right in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Your head turns to be met with the eyes of a stranger inches away from your own, lips painted blood red and pulled into a smirk.

You swallow, feeling the swell of her breasts against your arm that's resting on the back of the couch, and shake your head tersely, not trusting your voice just yet. She bites her lower lip and pulls away to slowly walk around the couch, making sure to show off her assets.

Almost all of her body is bare, her lacy push up bra making her breasts look good enough to throw handfuls of cash at her feet. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the full globes, then lowers to a dark red triangle of fabric between her legs held by a thin string. She takes her sweet time in caging you against the leather cushions, draping herself over your lap, hands settling on your shoulders.

You take this opportunity to study her features: the slope of her small nose; the freckles dusted all over her upper cheeks; her dark and inviting eyes, eagerly drinking you up with the same vigor; her full lips, painted red and waiting to be claimed.

She takes your whiskey and sips, expertly masking the distaste behind an alluring smile, but you still catch the way her eyes momentarily squeeze in a fleeting grimace, making you bite back a chuckle.

"I'm Angel. What's your name?" She purrs, hips moving to the beat as she plays with the hair at the nape of your neck. You see some men glare at you with jealousy, their jaws grinding. Angel must be fairly popular to grant a reaction like that.

"Does it matter?" You husk, struggling to keep your hands to yourself.

"Mysterious, huh?" She chuckles, arching against your chest, her barely covered breasts almost spilling out right in your face, hips moving in circles against your crotch. "I like that."

You hum, settling back to watch her flexible body roll against your slowly relaxing one, her lower lip pulled between pearly white teeth.

"There you go," she whispers, sliding her palm down your chest, her other hand tangling in your hair, nails scratching your scalp. It feels so good you almost purr. "Tell me what got you so wound up."

You sigh and take another sip of your drink before answering. "Lost my top client."

She hums, her torso moving in a slow hypnotic circle, before leaning back into you to whisper right in your ear. "Their loss."

She pulls back to look you in the eye, the space between you almost crackling with tension.

"Hey Angel," one of the men that's been glaring at you calls out, waving a couple of twenty dollar bills in the air. "Come give me a dance."

She doesn't even look in his direction, but you silently reach for your wallet, taking out three hundred dollar bills and pushing them under the string of her thong. "Stay."

Her eyes widen and she bites her lip before nodding. She throws her head back, hands leaving your shoulder to slide up her waist to cup her breasts, pushing them together inches away from your face. Your heart hammers in your chest, and you have to grip your thighs to keep yourself from touching her. She rises on her knees and changes the position, her back now to your front, ass snugly against your crotch.

You finish your whiskey in one gulp, your breath hitching. Her wavy hair gets in your face and you breathe in the enticing scent of her perfume mixed with the essence of her. She turns her head, looking at you with half lidded eyes. "You like that?"

"I do," you reply, noting the slight blush rising on her cheeks.

"Want to move somewhere private?" She asks, her eager tone cracking the unbothered facade she's been putting on.

You nod and follow her to the other side of the club, Amber sending you thumbs up from behind the bar before going back to flirting with another drunk man, crisp bills filling her pockets.

You're led to a dark hallway that leads to private rooms, anticipation buzzing under your skin. She nods at the security guard, the man looking you up and down before he lets you through. She locks the door and you wander deeper into the room, taking a seat on the velvety couch.

Sensual music starts spilling from the speakers before she turns sharply, a devilish smirk on her lips. She saunters to the pole, hips swaying in tune with the music, eyes never leaving yours as she hooks her leg over the metal and twirls. She closes her eyes, losing herself in the dance, and grips the pole before bending, back arched, the swell of her ass right in front of your face.

You exhale, nearly biting down on your knuckles from the need to turn her around and fuck her right on the floor. "Angel," you breathe out. She faces you and drops to her knees, legs spread as her hips move up and down, arms over her head as she grips the pole. "Yes?"

You pat your lap and without a moment of hesitation she climbs on top of your thighs, taking off her bra. You bite back a moan when her breasts spill out, pinkish nipples begging for your mouth. She takes hold of your neck, her forehead pressed against yours as she rocks her hips on your lap, her breathing labored. She weaves languidly against your tense torso, her lips brushing against your cheek before she pulls away to settle her hands on your chest, nails scratching your white shirt.

"Fuck," you close your eyes, enjoy the press of lithe body, arousal coursing through your veins. She hums, her center flush against your thigh and you feel her wetness smear on the fabric of your slacks. Your fingers clench uselessly at your sides. "You're enjoying this," you state, searching her face for an answer.

"More than you can imagine," she whispers, grinding down on your thigh with intent. Her nipples brush against your chest and she moans quietly, repeating the motion. You unconsciously thrust up, your pelvis connecting with her heat just as she is rolling down, sending pleasure through her body. She grabs your shoulders and your eyes lock. You thrust again, intentionally this time, your palms planted firmly on the couch to add force. Her hips rock, her needy moans filling your ears.

You can't take your eyes off her.

Fuck that, you think, before planting your hands on her hips, directing her movements, and pulling her into a feverish kiss. Her lips are impossibly soft, and her tongue tastes like whiskey and some fruity cocktail she's probably had earlier. Your hands move from her hips to her breasts, squeezing.

"Yes," she moans, greedily pushing against you. "More, please."

You hesitate only for a moment before lowering your mouth to her nipple, sucking it in with hunger you didn't know you possessed. She bites on her knuckles, hiding a loud moan from the guards behind the door. Your fingers itch with the need to tear off her thong and plunge deep into her soaking pussy, claiming the most vulnerable part of the petite brunette.

"How does that feel?" Your teeth graze against the underside of her breast before you take the other nipple in your mouth, tongue sliding on the hardened nub.

"Like I'm about to come," she whimpers, messily humping on your thigh. "Need you inside," she pleads, taking hold of your hand.

You follow her lead, your fingers easily pushing her thong aside and dipping between her slick folds, strands of wetness clinging to your digits. She buckles against your hand in search of friction, and you teasingly circle her clit, pulling a delicious moan out of her lips. "Like that?" You tease, even though you're as affected as she is.

"Yes- fuck, just like that," she whimpers.

"What about the rules, Angel? You gonna tell your boss about this?"

She shakes her head. "No, I promise. Fuck the rules." She desperately clings to your wrist, pressing your palm against her heat.

It's all you need to finally thrust your fingers inside her cunt. She cries out, biting your shoulder to hide the sound, and starts moving her hips up and down, meeting your fingers halfway.

"Such a bad girl you are, Angel. Riding a stranger like a slut," you grunt, fastening your pace. Filthy sounds fill the room as your fingers keep disappearing in her pussy, bringing her closer to the edge. Suddenly, a misplaced spark of jealousy ignites something deep inside your chest. "Do you do this with everyone, Angel? Do you spread your legs for strangers every night?"

"No," she gasps, tilting your face up and bringing you in for a kiss. "Just you," she moans against your lips, "only you."

The fire inside your chest burns. "Good."

Her walls clench around you, mouth wide open as she moans loudly. You force her mouth shut, pressing your palm against her lips, her eyes widening before they roll to the back of her head. Your thumb slides on her clit in tight circles, fingers curling to touch her sweet spot. She bites down on your knuckles, desperately chasing her orgasm, arousal dripping down her thighs. You add a third finger, stretching her tight pussy, and spread them inside.

"Come for me, Angel," you rasp, pushing deep inside. She cries out, squeezing around your fingers as she comes. She curls into you, hiding her face in the slope of your neck. "Good girl," you praise, kissing her temple, your fingers buried inside her wet heat.

There's a loud knock and a gruff voice sounds from behind the door. "Everything alright, Angel?"

She sits up, eyes wide and alert, and looks at the clock near the door. Your private session ended ten minutes ago.

"I- I have to go," she scurries away, putting on her bra on her way to the door.

"Wait," you call out, catching her wrist before she could touch the handle. "Stay, please."

Her eyes flicker to your lips before she throws herself at you, hands around your waist, kissing you with fervor. You press her against the door, trailing kisses all over her neck, wishing you could leave marks for her to remember you by.

There's another knock and a threat to break down the door. Angel pulls away with one last peck before disappearing behind the door.

The rest of the week goes better after that night. You feel like the burden that's been sitting on your shoulders got smaller, granting you more hours of sleep and allowing you to look your boss in the eye without feeling inferior. You can't help but think back on the girl that so easily brought this change on you. Sometimes when you're caught up in paperwork in the late hours of night you catch yourself wishing you were back in that private room, looking at her instead of some boring corporate nonsense. Your fingers squeeze around the pen with need to touch her again, to unravel her, to savor her taste.

On a Friday night you decide to leave the office early and head to the club, but a phone call stops you in your tracks.

"Hey, hope I'm not interrupting."

You smile, always happy to hear from your friend. "You're not, I'm… heading home early."

"Great. Perfect, actually. I know it's a bit last minute, but I was wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner tonight? I'm making your favorite." Sam asks, and you can hear the sound of pans hitting the stove in the background.

"What's the catch, Carpenter?"

She groans, and you can almost see her slouch against the counter. "I'm not sure if I mentioned it, but Tara is studying to be a lawyer, and I thought maybe you could give her some pointers over dinner?"

You blink, surprised by the question. In two years of your friendship with Sam you've never met her younger sister. Even though they're living together, she's never home when you're over, working double shifts to afford tuition, adamantly refusing Sam's offers to help. She likes to complain about it from time to time, but you can see she's proud of the younger girl.

Angel will be there tomorrow, and you're actually excited to finally meet Tara. It doesn't take long for you to decide which way to go. You make a quick stop at a grocery store on your way there, buying Sam's favorite beer and a bottle of wine, thinking about offering her sister an internship. If she's even half as brilliant as Sam you want her on your team once she graduates.

When you finally knock on the door, expecting to see Sam on the other side, you feel wind get knocked out of you when the woman you've been thinking about since you left the club opens it.

"... Angel?"

_______________

Thoughts?

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter smut #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega smut #angel

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 10 months

Text

DRABBLE: YOU'RE THE CUTEST BIMBO HE'S EVER SEEN (18+) (MHA) (for Fem!Readers)

Writer's Note: Idk...I like the bimbo shit. I might make a fic with a bimbo!reader one of these days. Btw, some of these drabbles are meant for chubby/plus-sized readers, but I'll just put that as a note. Enjoy! -Jazz

*********

PRO!HITOSHI

*Note: Reader is Chubby

When he sees you for the first time, he is as intrigued as he is rock-hard the very moment he sees you in your little pink thong bikini.

He is down the shore with Denki after being forced to take a trip to get out of the sweltering, congested Tokyo heat for a while. Don’t get him wrong; a nice trip down the shore to get away from the villain activity and constant rush of the city is definitely a nice change of pace. But to walk around semi-naked people isn’t is idea of a relaxing vacation. It’s uncomfortable for him, walking around and seeing so many women with strings up their asses.

“You just need some company,” Denki said when Shinso voiced his concerns to his friend. “This place is swimming with plenty of pretty babes for the choosing, ‘Toshi! Who wouldn’t want to spend some time with the top underground hero in Japan?”

Though Denki's compliment works somewhat, Shinso isn’t concerned with meeting someone for a hookup. He isn’t even really interested in sex…until he meets you, at least.

While Denki is busy trying to flirt with some girls standing by a hot dog stand, Shinso slinks away into a nearby trinket store. His eyes roam over the seashell fridge magnets and snow globes with the fake snow replaced with sand. He thinks about which gift would be good for Eri, his little sister, until his eyes land on you.

There you stand a few feet away at a shelf of trinkets, standing on your tip toes with one of your chunky arms outstretched. You’re trying to reach for a pink seashell-shaped purse on the top shelf, and though you know damn well you can’t reach it, you still try.

Shinso is no longer interested in checking out the store items now that he’s got a look at you. You’re the best thing in here, from your plump little frame to the pink clothes you wear…if you can even call them clothes.

You’re really wearing just a mesh pink cover-up dress with a hot pink bikini underneath. The bikini top ties around your neck and back, exposing your rolls, while the bottoms are stuck in between your luscious, plump asscheeks that all Shinso wants to do is shove his face in. While he’s still uncomfortable seeing you in a thong, it's a different kind of discomfort now. He can feel his cock chub against his shorts, uncomfortably so.

“Excuse me?” It takes him a moment to realize you’re talking to him because of how dazed he is from your ass. You’ve turned around to face him now, showing your front, and dear fuck, does he wish you wouldn’t have. He can now see how the bikini top barely covers your big, juicy breasts and how your tummy bulges slightly over the string waist of your thong. Your lips, kissable and soft, shin in pink, glittery gloss and your cute little fingernails and toenails are coated in pink paint. Everything about you is pink.

He decides that the color fits you especially well when you open your mouth to speak again. “I'm so sorry,” you giggle sheepishly, giving him a smile that feels like a punch in the gut, “but could you help me reach that bag up there?” You point one chunky hand up towards the top shelf. “I’m just too short to reach.”

Shinso blushes at the sound of your voice, so sweet and innocent-sounding. He wonders how you’d sound moaning his name with his cock buried deep inside of you. “Uh, sure,” he replies, his voice sounding dry and gravely. He can barely breathe. You excitedly clap your hands, thanking him profusely for his help. “I was so sure I’d end up tripping over these,” you giggle, pointing down at your pink sandal wedges. What a pretty princess, you are.

“It’s whatever,” Shinso deadpans as he walks over to you. “Wouldn’t want nothin’ to happen to those shoes.” He glances down at them. “Steve Madden, huh?” he asks, loving it when you flush shyly at his observation. “I had some extra money,” you confess. “So I splurged. But they’re cute, right?!”

‘So, so cute,’ he thinks, but he isn’t referring to the shoes one bit. When he steps beside you to reach for the bag, he catches a whiff of your body spray. It is sweet and delectable, like whipped cream or sugar. God, could you get any cuter?

As if answering him, his cock throbs painfully in his shorts. He barely has to stand on his toes to reach the bag, causing you to cutely gasp at his height. “Wow!” you say, shocked. “You’re so tall! I’ve never met anyone as tall as you.”

Shinso chuckles when he grabs the bag and holds it out to you. “Well, now you have. And you’re welcome…” He trails off, wishing you’d take a hint and spill the space in with your name. He watches as you gulp and stare up at him with those big, doe-like eyes as you take the bag from him. When you do, your fingers brush against his, sending an electric shock through him as if Denki just used his quirk on him.

“T-Thank you,” you softly stutter. “And I’m Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you, Mr…” You trail off too, cutely puckering your lips. “No Mr,” Shinso chuckles. “Just Shinso. Or Hitoshi. Whichever you want.”

You tap one painted nail against your chin thoughtfully. “Hit-o-shi,” you carefully pronounce. Shinso has to suppress a groan at the sight of your soft lips forming his name.

“Can I call you ‘Toshi?” you ask, hope in your eyes. And something more. Mischief, it looks like. Hitoshi’s interest reaches its peak when he realizes that there is a whole other side to you than the cute, innocent persona he’s seeing right now.

He copies your move and thoughtfully taps his finger against his chin, earning a sweet giggle from you. “Only if I can call you princess,” he replies smoothly. “And maybe buy you somethin’ to eat? I’ll admit that I’m not too familiar with the boardwalk though.”

You look rather shy from the pet name, but you don’t let that stop you from conversing more with him. “Is it your first time here?” you ask, gasping when he nods. “Oh, you’re gonna have so much fun! They have the best funnel cakes and pizza here! I’ll tell you what, ‘Toshi: I’ll treat you to food for doing such a good deed and helping me get my bag. Deal?”

You reach your hand out for him, peering up at him through your thick, doll-like lashes. All Shinso wants to do is fuck you silly while you look at him like that, but instead, he takes your hand, smirking at the way you bite your lip. “It’s a deal, princess,” he huskily says.

SHIGIRAKI

There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing to people. There’s just no way! Do you know what you’re doing to him?

These are the thoughts that run through Shiggy’s head when you step into the dimly-lit, crowded bar with Toga by your side.

The two of you giggle to each other, looking like the best of friends in your little sundresses and tiny purses that hang off of your wrists. The only difference between you and Toma is the combination of innocence and sexiness you seem to ooze.

Toga had said she was inviting a friend of hers to the annual bar hop adventures she, Shiggy, and half of the LOV always have at this exact bar. Dabi knows the guy so they get drinks half off and the cops aren’t called despite them being out and about in the city. He sits with Dabi, Mr. Compress, and Twice (who won’t shut the fuck up) now, a whiskey in his hand that he knows he’s going to need when you finally come up to greet him.

Shiggy was initially against Toga bringing a stranger into their activities. “What if she talks?” he hissed. “How can you be so sure she won’t blab to the police about us? How do you even know this girl?”

Toga barely gave him a glance as she poured herself some juice in their lair's kitchen. “She’s an old childhood friend of mine,” she explained. “And no, she’s not gonna talk because she hates cops and heroes. I promise you’ll love her! She’s got a wicked streak to her.”

When he sees you, he can’t tell what about you is so ‘wicked’. You look like the cutest package of candy in your short, pink sundress that barely covers your ass or your tits that jiggle enticingly. He doesn’t even think you’re wearing a bra. You paired the dress with some pink heels, a charm bracelet, and two high pigtails that he envisions yanking on while his cock is buried deep in your–

“Hey, guys!” Toga giggles when she finally makes it to the stools. Shiggy nearly jumps out of his skin, earning a low chuckle out of Dabi. “This is my friend, Y/N. The one from my childhood? I told you I was bringing her tonight, remember?” She gives you a toothy, excited grin, allowing you to introduce yourself further.

“Nice to meet you all,” you say in your sugary, sweet voice that washes over Shiggy. “I hope I’m not interrupting your night out, but Toga insisted I meet you all.” Twice is the first one to make an impression, hopping out of his seat to greet you. “Not at all!” he brightly chirps. “I’m Twice, by the way. This here is Dabi, Spinner, and Shiggy.”

Spinner gives you a nod while Dabi only glances and Shiggy glares at Twice. “Shigaraki,” he corrects his friend. Toga rolls her hazel eyes while you giggle to yourself. “Ignore him,” she sighs. "Come, sit right here with me! I’ll order us some drinks. Do you like those fruity ones?”

Eagerly, you nod, making you even cuter. You then turn to him, your big eyes stopping him short of breathing. “Um…is this seat taken?” you ask, pointing one red-painted nail at the empty stool.

To anyone else, he would’ve said something smart, but he can’t even muster words with how soft your lips look and the sweet smell of your perfume filling his senses. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ he thinks to himself. He’s never had any woman make him feel this way before. He thought these kinds of feelings were long gone.

He nods, earning a blinding smile from you as you take a seat. As you do, the hem of your dress rides up, revealing a sliver of thigh that has Shiggy’s cock throbbing uncomfortably in his sweats. From his right side, Dabi leans in towards him. “You’d better snag that before someone else does, Shig,” he teasingly whispers. “That someone bein’ me.”

Shiggy glances at his friend, irked at his attempt at pushing his buttons. He knows Dabi also has a thing for innocence; especially ruining it. He turns to you, already finding you looking at him. “You listen to Nine Inch Nails?” you ask, quiet excitement in your voice. Shiggy blinks, confused as to what you mean, until you point at his band shirt. “I like them too! Have you ever been to one of their shoes?”

It takes Shiggy some time to process words, but he doesn’t keep you waiting or questioning yourself. “Uh, yeah,” he replies. “Two years ago. You listen to metal like that?” His eyes graze over your outfit and your body, picturing you without clothes. “‘Cause it doesn’t look like it.”

You giggle, adorably scrunching you nose. “It doesn’t,” you agree, “but yeah! I’m into a lot of hard metal and rock, but not too much screamo. That doesn’t keep me out of Hot Topic though.”

Shiggy smirks at your confession and nods down at his wrist. You look down, gasping at the spiked Hot Topic bracelet sitting there. “It’s like we’re one and the same,” you softly laugh, smiling at the bartender when he lowers your pretty, fruity drink down.

Shiggy watches you sip your drink, your gloss stain on the glass rim making him want to cum all over your mouth. “Are we really?” he asks, but not unkindly. He is actually very curious and interested in you. What is it about you that Toga likes?

He gets his answer when you turn to him, a mischievous, dark glint in your pretty eyes. Despite your cutesy appearance and pretty clothes, you now appear before him as someone else. Someone darker. “We could always find out,” you suggest, a slight purr in your voice. He doesn’t know if it’s an accident, but your knee slightly brushes his when you shift in your seat.

Those words are all Shiggy needs. After one too many drinks and the whole “getting to know you” shit, you find yourself underneath him in his bed, your legs up by your ears and your pretty, pink dress on his bedroom floor. Shuddery moans and grunts leave his lips every time he drives his cock into you again and again, his hands wrapped around your ankles. “Tell me how it feels,” he growls. “Tell me, slutty girl.”

You whine for him, your lipgloss smudged off of your lips and pretty breasts jiggling for him as he fucks you into the mattress. “It feels good!” you babble, your mascara smudged. “You feel so good, Shigaraki!”

“Tomura,” he grunts down to you. “Call me Tomura.” Realization clears in your dazed eyes and your pretty face splits into a smile before he swoops down to swirl his tongue with yours in a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

A sudden bang comes from above the wall above your head where the headboard bangs against it. “Could you two shut the fuck up?” Dabi yells. “I’m tryin’ to sleep off this whiskey.”

“Yeah!” Toga agrees. “I brought my friend tonight to get to know you, Shiggy, but not like this! You’ll ruin her!” A light giggle leaves your lips as Shiggy continues to rock his hips into your wet, tight walls. You lean up, your sticky lips at his ear. “I’m already ruined,” you whisper. “Can you ruin me more, Tomura?”

Shiggy didn’t need you to repeat. The entire night he spent ruining you over and over again, covering you in his cum until the dawn. Now he thinks you could be an extra good addition to the LOV crew.

PRO!BAKUGOU

*Note: Reader is Chubby

He could’ve blown his fucking load when Mina brings you along for mini golf one night.

It’s just an ordinary summer evening where he and the squad are playing mini golf and slurping down milkshakes before you show up. Initially, Bakugou is irked waiting for you and Mina to show up, hating when people are late. “Where the fuck are these two?” he huffs. “They’d better not be doin’ their hair or somethin’ ‘cause I’m gonna be pissed if they are.”

“You know how girls are, ‘Suki,” Kiri chuckles, watching Denki try to aim his ball at a hole surrounded by gnome and fairy statues. “Mina takes forever to do her makeup sometimes, but it’s all to look nice for us. I’d think her friend is doing the same thing.”

As if on cue, Sero announces their arrival from his seat. “Look!” he exclaims, a chocolate milkshake in his hand. “They’re here! And damn, does her friend look good.” Each boy turns to look at you and they can all agree. Especially Bakugou.

He can’t keep his eyes off of you as you strut up with Mina, arms hooked in one another’s. You’re wearing a low cut, white crop top with a push-up bra that make your breasts look immaculate and delicious and a tiny, pink tennis skirt that starts at the waistband of your pudgy stomach and stops right at the top of your thick, jiggly thighs. You paired this outfit with white Nike low tops and pink knee socks that make you look more innocent than the cute little smile on your face that gets wider the closer you get to him and the guys.

He can’t stop staring at you, especially when you get closer and he gets to drink in all of the other details to you––how short you are compared to him (you barely graze his chest!); the Fenty gloss on your plump lips; the tiny bow clip in your hair; the scent of fruit on your skin that makes him dizzy.

Are you fucking forreal? How are you going to show up like that as if it’s normal? Are you trying to tease him? Are you playing with him? Bakugou can’t help but be irrationally angry from how cute and sexy you are. How is it possible to be both cute and sexy? All he knows is that his dick knows the answer judging by how it’s pushing up against his briefs at the sight of you now.

Mina stops you right in front of him despite his raging hard-on. Just his fucking luck. “Fellas,” she says with a smile, “this is my friend, Y/N. We work together at my agency and she was just dying to meet you guys.”

You flush, becoming shy at Mina’s teasing. “C’mon, Mina,” you softly whine, bumping your hip with hers. God, what Bakugou wouldn’t give to feel those hips in his big hands! Would you let him? There’s no way you wouldn’t. Your short skirt says that you want his hands all over you.

“Oh, really?” Denki asks, raising a brow. He struts up to you, already putting on the charm. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” he purrs, shaking your hand. “I’m Denki, by the way. You probably know me as Chargebolt.” He raises your hand to kiss it, but is stopped by Bakugou tossing a golf ball at his head. “Kill the flirting, perv,” he grumbles as Denki rubs his temple, glaring at him.

“Sorry about them,” Mina sighs, but you just giggle. Bakugou’s ears perk at the sound. “That’s Kirishima and Sero aka Red Riot and Cellophane.” Kiri gives you a friendly wave while Sero gives you a wink that Bakugou doesn’t particularly like either. “And Bakugou already made his grand introduction,” Mina sarcastically says.

You finally face him entirely and he sees your smile falter somewhat when your eyes land on his. Bakugou notices immediately. Do you not like what you see? Are you intimidated by him? He backs up to try and give you space, realizing how small you really are…small enough to break…small enough to toss around in a bedroom. His bedroom, preferably.

“Nice to meet all of you,” you sweetly say, though your eyes are still on him. “I'm exposing myself here, but I am a big fan of you guys! I’ve got all your posters and merch!” Everyone except Bakugou laughs at your cute little confession. “Oh, yeah?” Sero asks, raising a pierced brow. “So who’s your favorite hero, Y/N? It’s okay, you can tell us.”

He, Kiri and Denki look at you, interested despite your obvious shyness and discomfort. Even though Bakugou won’t admit it, even he is interested. Even so, he decides to come to your rescue, shocking every single one of his friends. “Ignore them,” he murmurs as he passes you a golf club. “You want next game or what?”

You stare up at him with those big eyes, looking shocked he’s even saying much to you. You wrap one hand around the golf club, giving him a look at your pink manicure. He can’t imagine how they’d look on his cock while you’re stroking it for him. “I would,” you say, “but I’m not much of a player. I wore the right outfit for it though!”

You swish your hips around in your pink skirt, making Bakugou’s cock even harder when he thinks he catches a glimpse of your inner thighs. “Show her, Katsuki!” Kiri shouts from the sidelines. “She is our guest, after all.” The redhead gives him a knowing wink which emits a growl from Bakugou.

“Whatever,” he huffs. Despite being pissed that his friends know he is whipped, he leads you over to one of the golf holes located up on a hill surrounded by wooden fans. You stand to the side, your tongue thoughtfully licking your bottom lip and giving him some awful thoughts about your mouth. “Am I doin’ it right?” you ask, even bending your knees though it’s still the incorrect form.

Bakugou nearly laughs at your cuteness. “Nah, but I’ll give you points for your eagerness. Want me to show you?” You peer at him from over your shoulder and nod. Without even realizing how this looks, he stands behind you, putting a good distance between his front and your back to avoid giving you a taste of his raging bulge.

“Stand with your hips square with your feet,” he explains, doing his best to not breathe in your shampoo. You do so before his hands cup yours over the golf club. “Take it back once, aim for the ball, and…” He helps you swing the club at the ball, your body twisting with his as you do. The ball goes soaring up the hill and into the hole, never missing.

From the sidelines, the gang applauded you. “I did it!” you excitedly shout, turning to him. “We did it!” You jump up and down, giving Bakugou a great view of your breasts jiggling and bouncing about. You’re not making this easy for him at all, especially with that pretty smile on your face. “And that’s why you’re my favorite,” you confess.

Bakugou scowls at you, confused. “Huh?”

You look down at your shoes, suddenly shy. “The guys asked me who my favorite hero was out of all of you,” you softly say. “And it’s you ‘cause you’re so sweet.” Bakugou’s brain short-circuits. Sweet. You think he's sweet! You, the sweetest little thing he’s ever met. Suddenly, the air between you changes to something more open and flirtatious. He wants to know everything about you now.

“Well,” he replies, a smirk on his lips, “maybe you can tell me more about how sweet I am over a milkshake?” You look up at him, excitement in your pretty eyes. “And over a phone call!” Denki calls from the sidelines. “Give her your number, dude!”

Bakugou swears if looks could kill, his friends would be dead by now. But he does, in fact, give you his number at the end of the night.

PRO!KIRI

*Note: Reader is Chubby

‘Mine.’

That’s all he can think when he sees you for the first time at the gym. As soon as he sees you in your tight, pink sports bra and shorts that cup your shapely, plump ass so nicely, it’s a fucking wrap for him. You pop up on the treadmill next to him and he immediately notices despite him jogging. So far, he’s at five miles. Another five to go.

He knows he can’t be distracted by anything that will ruin his workout, but so far, the distraction is winning. You glance at him and offer a smile that makes your little cheeks and baby face even cuter. The sight of you nearly knocks the air out of him. He manages to smile back at you, trying his best to not seem menacing with his sharp teeth, but you don’t seem too disarmed.

He then pretends to go back to what he’s doing (working out), but all the while, he pays attention to your every move. He watches as one of your chunky fingers presses the buttons on the treadmill, your fingernail pained a glittery pink.

Then you start walking along the moving conveyor belt, your high ponytail swishing behind you and reminding him of some very naughty things, like wrapping his fist in it while his cock is buried in the delectable pussy that he knows hides behind those shorts.

He’s admittedly never dated a woman of your size or shape before. Honestly, he hasn’t had too many girlfriends due to his demanding job as a pro hero. But looking at the way your breasts jiggle in your sports bra and your soft, chubby waist behind your shorts is making him think differently.

Not to mention how short you are. He’s got a thing for short girls. Maybe it’s because of the whole protection thing. He likes feeling tall and big enough to protect his girl from everyone and everything, you? You definitely fit the bill.

These thought scare him slightly. Why is he pining after a whole stranger in a gym and thinking that you’re his? He’s eyeing you down like you’re a piece of food and he’s starving for it. He immediately turns away and blushes as red as his hair. ‘This is so unmanly,’ he thinks, criticizing himself for his behavior.

But goddamn, are you too fine! Most of the men in here seem to think so too. He notices their eyes crawling across your body, stopping on your ass and boobs. He glances at you worriedly, wondering if you notice it too. But you’re too busy singing along to the music in your pink AirPods, your voice making him crack a smile. You’re just too cute!

He doesn’t make his move on the first day though. He waits for about a month before he actually says something to you. Every time he comes in on the weekends, he does so on the same day at the same time hoping to see you. And he does. You strut in wearing your short, tight gym attire with your J’Adore Dior duffle bag, your ponytail bouncing. You greet each other with smiles before he watches you get into your workout, paying close attention to the way your body moves and any gym rats who may want to bother you.

The day he actually makes a move isn’t one he planned on. It’s a Saturday morning and he’s busy with his cool-down stretches, pretending not to be looking at you in the mirror squatting with a kettlebell between your chunky hands. His eyes marvel at your body, wondering how you’d feel in an embrace or underneath him. Those thoughts quickly dissipate though when someone walks up to you.

He is buff and about the same height as Kiri with tattoos and a muscle tee. Immediately, Kiri switches into protection mode and strains to hear your convo. “Hey,” the guy greets you. You pause with your workout, lowering the kettlebell down. “Hi,” you sweetly greet, giving him a smile. Kiri bristles. Those smiles are meant for him only!

“I’m Trent,” the guy says, offering his hand for a shake. You take it, still the sweetheart. “Y/N,” you introduce yourself. Kiri notices that Trent’s hand lingers a bit more than necessary before it drops from yours. “That’s some outfit, y’know,” he chuckles, leaning against one of the machines as he attempts to put the charm on.

“Thanks!” you giggle. “I bought this week. I just love pink. It’s such a pretty color.” Trent nods, his eyes trailing lustfully over your body in your tight one-piece unitard and cropped hoodie that stops just above your sternum. You don’t notice but Kiri does. “You know, I could always help you with this workout,” Trent suggests. "Help you get deeper into those squats.”

You blink at him, obviously confused. “Are you a trainer?” you ask innocently. Kiri feels his cock stir. God, you’re just too cute! Trent smirks down at you. “I can be that and more,” he purrs. “Here, let me get you a mat!”

“O-oh, that’s okay,” you protest. “I-I’m not–“

But he’s already moving to get you a mat and bends down to put it under your feet, eyeing your thighs and calves as he does so. You look so, so uncomfortable.

'That’s it!’ Kiri thinks, irked to no end. He’s watched for long enough. He can't stop himself from rising to his feet and storming over to you and Trent, anger stirring within him.

When he stops near you, you’re the first one that sees him. He thinks he sees the corner of your lips twitch into a smile but he isn’t too sure. He stares down at Trent, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I think she said she’s fine, Trent,” he firmly says, practically spitting the guy’s name. “You should listen to her.”

Trent pauses and glares up at Kiri. “What do you care?” he scoffs. “So I suddenly can’t be a nice guy?” Kiri glares back at him, his red eyes sharp. “We both know what you’re bein’ nice for,” he almost growls. “And I’m not about to sit by and watch you bother this girl just for some nookie. Leave her alone before I call security.” He eyes Trent down, daring him to fight this.

Trent stands, his jaw tight and eyes sharp. He glances at you before scoffing to himself and storming off, heading for the locker room. Once he’s gone, you sigh in relief. “Thank you,” you say with gratitude. “I have no idea why he wanted to give me a mat. I didn’t even need one!”

Kiri relaxes, but only slightly. You’re talking to him. You two are really talking! “Don't thank me,” he chuckles modestly. “Not that I don't think you can handle yourself, but I saw him tryin’ to spit game and you not enjoyin’ it too much, so I just had to step in.” He dares to look down at you and almost creams on the spot at the sight of your cleavage. “W-Well, I’m gonna go and let you–“

“I’m Y/N,” you instantly say, twirling the drawstring to your hoodie. You offer him a gloss-lipped smile that gives him butterflies. “Ejirou,” he replies. “Kiri for short.”

You giggle to yourself. “I know; other than you being Red Riot, I hear your name all the time here.” He blushes, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m a regular here. It’s one of the only gyms that are safer for pros like me.”

“Well, I’ll keep your secret,” you giggle, “but only if you agree for me to buy you lunch for your good deed.” From the way you slightly rub your thighs together and peer up at him through your lashes, he feels like you’re thinking of a lot more than just lunch. And he wants to know just what.

He smirks down at you, trying hard to ignore his dick chubbing in his basketball shorts. “Maybe,” he replies, playing along. “I think I’d need your number for that though. I mean, just to tell you what I like…for lunch.” He almost kicks himself. You giggle to yourself, already pulling your rose gold iPhone out of your pocket. “It’s a date then!” you chirp.

After leaving the gym with your number in his phone, he can’t help but nut to the thought of you while in his car minutes later, the vision of your pretty lips and body coated in his sticky cum making him fuck his fist a little harder.

Call him unmanly, but goddamn, he can't wait for the real thing!

DABI

When he first sees your cute little self in your mini skirt that barely covers your ass, he just wants to follow you around and scare anyone who dares to look at you the wrong way.

And that’s exactly what he does. ‘Cause what the fuck are you doing strutting around like that in this club? Don’t you know how you’re dressed?

You’re dressed like you want to get fucked. Though he can’t see you from the front, he can tell you’re wearing a halter top judging from the tie around your slender back. And no bra? Those titties must be bouncing everywhere!

As you can damn well tell, Dabi likes the innocent girls…or the girls who look innocent. Something about ruining them and bringing out that nasty, dark, devious side to them that he knows lies deep underneath their soft, pink, sweet personality. And you’re no different.

So he lies deep in the cut and watches you laugh and chat with people, blushing cutely when they compliment your clothes and being completely oblivious to the guys who stare you down like they want to eat you alive. He sips on his drink and eyes your legs, wondering how they’d feel wrapped around him.

It doesn’t take long for this little game to come to an end. You step outside for some air and he’s right behind you, but he doesn’t go out immediately. He watches as you lean against the wall and dig into your pink purse for your bubblegum. Finally, he comes outside, feeling blessed that he can finally get you alone.

You don't even flinch when he comes up to stand beside you, taking a box of cigarettes out of his back pocket. In fact, you give him a smile as you chew on your bubblegum, your pink lips forming an O for a big bubble. He imagines those lips forming an O when you moan while his tongue is buried deep in your cunt that lies beneath that skirt. From his angle, he can finally see the rest of your outfit––a glittery, pink halter top paired with platform boots and luscious, curly hair that makes you look like one of those early 2000s movie stars.

“Want some?” you ask, holding the box of gum out to him. His eyes flick from the box to your big, doe-like eyes rimmed with mascara to make them look almost like a doll’s. Like his pretty little doll. “You’re askin’ a stranger whether or not he wants your gum?” he asks, raising a curious brow at you before puffing on his cig.

You giggle adorably, almost ditzy-like. “You’re not a stranger, silly!” you protest. He blinks down at you, confused. “I saw you when I came into the club with my friend…and while you were following me around.”

Dabi blanches. Fuck, he’s been caught! How did you even notice? “Accept my apology,” he sighs, smoke billowing from his lips. “Couldn't help myself. You just look too damn cute to be in there not bein’ looked after.”

At this, you become shy and advert your eyes as a bashful smile adorns your pretty face. “You know, smoke is a bad habit,” you softly say. He nods, agreeing. “What’s your point?” he asks, paying close attention to your body language. He notices how tight your thighs are pressed together and the way your fingers fiddle with your skirt. You’re wanting something.

“Because…” Your eyes slowly trail back to his, now hooded and lustful. “Nicotine breath ruins kisses,” you purr. “And I’d really like a kiss from you. I have to thank you for watching my back in there, don’t you think?”

Dabi swears he’s never been harder in his life. He’s also have never ditched a cig that wasn’t a stub yet either, but the promise of finally getting your lips on his makes him toss the cig down and crunch it under his shoe.

Several minutes later, your glossy, soft lips are on his, the taste of strawberries in his mouth, while his cock is buried deep in your soft, wet pussy. Your hands are pressed against the wall as he grips your hips, your skirt hiked up and your lace panties pushed to the side to give him all the freedom to fuck you as he pleases. And he does so.

“You’re just like a doll,” he grunts into your ear, growing harder with every breathy moan that leaves your lips. “Are you my pretty baby doll tonight?”

All he gets is a broken moan of his name in response. He chuckles to himself as he lifts your leg up slightly and continues to fuck you silly behind the nightclub. He knew you had a devious side.

NATSUO

You were just the cute girl in his class that he couldn’t stop thinking about.

You would walk in wearing the cutest outfits known to man, all of them with pink tossed in. His favorite one was the cropped pink sweater and white skirt that swished around your legs and hiked up slightly in the back to give him a sneak peek of your thighs. That was the first day you two met. You had sat in front of him and rummaged around in your backpack, oblivious to Natsuo burning a hole in your back.

You sighed adorably and turned to him randomly, your glossy lips in an adorable pout that had his cock stirring in his jeans. “Hi,” you say with a smile. “Sorry to bug you, but I forgot my pen at home. Do you have one I can borrow?”

It took a minute for Natsuo to answer because he was too busy staring at your lips move, envisioning his dick between them. “U-Uh, yeah,�� he finally replied, idiotically so. He dug into his backpack and handed you one of his best ink pens.

You happily smiled as you took the pen from him, your soft fingers grazing against his. “Thanks!” you chirped. “I promise I’ll give it back to you at the end of the day.” And you did. That is when your friendship began. He begins letting you borrow your pens while you send him notes from class if he’s too tired to pay attention and falls asleep during class, dreaming of himself bending you over one of the desks.

When you first asked him to help you study for your midterm exam, he can’t believe his luck. “You’re just so smart,” you whine as you two walk alongside each other in the hall. “I can’t afford to fail, so I need your help. Meet you at your dorms this weekend? I’ll bring snacks!”

He was helpless to refuse you, but the idea of being alone with you this weekend made him want to bust and hide under his bed at the same time. He didn’t have that much experience with girls, especially pretty, cute, adorable ones like you. He spends the whole day cleaning up his space and gargling down Listerine mouthwash before you arrive.

When you do, it’s at 5 PM after you get off your shift. You show up at his door in a pretty, baby pink dress carrying a bag of snacks and sodas. “Thanks for letting me come over,” you say after Natsuo invites you in and get you situated at the table in the middle of his dorm. “I just know I’m gonna pass with you as a tutor.”

He blushes at the compliment. How is it you’re so sweet? “S’cool,” he chuckles sheepishly. “I’m happy to help. Thank you for the snacks though.” He ogles at the all of the snacks you pour out of your bag––Pocky boxes; chips; cookies; biscuits. You embarrassingly giggle, picking at your pink nails. “I, uh…like snacks,” you shyly confess.

‘Oh, God,’ Natsuo laments in his head as his cock surges in his sweats. Why the fuck did he wear sweats?! Why the fuck are you so cute?! This is not going to be easy.

It doesn’t get any easier for him as the night goes on. He gets distracted at some points at the crumbs dusting the corner of your mouth or the way you swipe your gloss over your lips. He tries not to freak out when you lean in to point out words you’re having trouble remembering the definitions for, the scent of your birthday cake body wash and the feeling of your bosom against his forearm. Are you doing this on purpose?

Despite him explaining and breaking down the study guide for you, all he can think about is dirtying up your dress with his cum or plunging his cock in and out of the gushy walls of your pussy. It’s impossible not to. He’s practically sweating halfway during the session so he has to strip himself of his hoodie, revealing his blue tee underneath that stretches across his muscles.

When you finally finish the session, it’s around 7 PM and you’ve correctly remembered most of the guide. When Natsuo gives you an approving smile, you squeal and jump on him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you cheer, wrapping your arms tight around him. He blushes, feeling your breasts pushing against his chest. “You’re such a good tutor! I’m gonna ace this exam because of you!”

Natsuo laughs at your cuteness, giving you a one-armed hug in respect to you. “It’s no problem,” he says. “It helps when you have such a great student.”

You pull away from him, peering up at him with those big eyes and that pretty face. “You know,” you say, your voice suddenly dipping an octave but still oh-so soft, “I’d hate to leave here and not repay you for such great work.” Your hands find his and you begin playing with his fingers, his cock stirring as you do. “Is there anyway you can think of, Natsuo?” you ask, batting your lashes prettily at him.

Oh, does he. And he knows you exactly what when he has you lying down in his bed with your dress hiked up on your hips where his hands are and his tongue finally fucking your pussy. “Fuck, Natsuo!” you whine, your hands in his snow-white hair. “Please!”

He moans as he pulls his tongue out of your wet hole and stares up at you. “Stop what, honey?” he asks, smiling at your blissful expression. “You wanted this, didn’t you? To repay me?”

His thumb finds your clit and begins slowly rubbing it, relishing the way you squirm for him. “Well, now you can.”

#bnha smut #smutty smut #18+#drabble #bnha drabble #deku x black!reader #my works #my drabbles #bimbo reader #bakugou x fem!reader #hitoshi x fem!reader #natsuo todoroki x fem!reader #dabi x fem!reader #kirishima x fem!reader #chubby reader #black writers #shigaraki x fem!reader

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iliektehhaxs · 6 months

Text

Y’all ever think about Johnny and his thick neck? I do too. (18+ under the cut).

Johnny has a very pretty neck, which isn’t something you would ever imagine yourself saying but he tends to have that effect on you.

Nice and thick, It’s the kind that looks especially good in your hands, and he knows it too. Smug bastard that he is, he’ll bring your hands forward and rest them on the thick column of his neck, go a little dumb when you squeeze a little, a dopey smile painted on his face.

“Don’t need a necklace when I’ve got you lass,” he groans, the tent in his boxers growing with each second.

And the best view is when you’re above him and he’s below, slurping on your pussy like it’s his last meal. Panting between your thighs, fingers pressed into the globes of your ass, he eats you out and nearly chokes himself on your taste, the sight of his untouched cock leaking heavy against his stomach. You look below at the spectacle that is Johnny, and that pretty neck of his now littered with your mark and think to yourself that there’s only one way this view could get better.

Slowly, your fingers press against the sides of his neck, firm in their hold. Johnny tenses up, a jumble of sentences as his hips thrust upwards.

You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you don’t need to. His shaking form and the dribble of cum that spreads across his abdomen is telling enough.

It’s as if a fire’s been lit underneath him, and with the fervor that his mouth moves against you you’re afraid he really might just pass out between your legs this time.

#robo writes #call of duty #call of duty smut #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish smut #soap x reader

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wroteclassicaly · 1 year

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Warnings: Nothing but sin, baby. And… You know, filthy smutty smut.

Eddie taking you from behind for the first time.

He’s never been in this position before. He nearly blows his load on the spot. Your skin is a vast expanse of canvas, and my fuck he wants to paint every inch. You’re marveling, coasting high on his overly enthusiastic intrigue that’s wrapped in worship. He is marveling, fingertips stroking as if they’re a brush, rings clinking together.

His cock is so hard that he can barely breathe, his knees like jello as they’re pressed into the mattress. Your breathing is heavy, body coated in perspiration. You’re sure that you are dripping onto Eddie’s already stained sheets below, and this man hasn’t even touched you yet. He’s mumbling several praises, causing goosebumps to erupt along your flesh with every graze his touch gives. On nights when he had the trailer alone and pulled the TV into his room, he could simply make out through colorful porn and cheap moans — what it might look like to see a woman in this position.

But that’s all acting. And the girl wasn’t you. Seeing your body in such a vulnerable, wide open position — Eddie is but a mere goner. Now he could fist his cock, using your slick instead of lotion or his own saliva, he could feel his knuckles brush your plush cheeks on every twist his fist makes, hear your cunt separate with a loud squelch when you arched in front of him, offering yourself. At first, Eddie wasn’t sure where to look, too many viable options to feast his glazed over eyes upon.

Should he go for the instinctual urge to plant his irises on the thick globes that he grabs at every chance, that even magazines featuring America’s hottest sweetheart can’t capture, especially if you’re wearing those tight jeans. Or indulge in what his other head is thinking, finding your soaked cunt — ready and waiting for only him. Fuck, your tits… He had been so caught up in what reality brought, that wasn’t even prepared to see your naked breasts dangling in his eye-line, nipples hard. With a massively priceless view, Eddie couldn’t decide.

Visions danced around and around his wired brain, one that would surely cause him to live up to his reputation.

Finally, encouraging him to grip a hold of your cellulite dented cheeks and open you up, get a good look — the choice was made for him. His mouth had gone bone dry at the webbed shine drizzling off your swollen folds, some caught in the patch of curls you’d let grow out. You let him have his collective moments before speaking.

“Eds? You okay, baby?” His trim hips catch you off guard, caging you in, hands replacing yours on the fat of your ass, one slipping to grip his cock and slide the aching head along your pussy, both of you moaning in unison.

You can feel the coldness of his pick chain tickling your back, smell his Old Spice, his Camel cigarettes, and the joint he’d previously rolled. His breath is warm by your ear when he says, “Think we’re gonna need to move a mirror over here before we start, sweetheart.”

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reasonsforhope · 5 months

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[Warning: Graphic (some very graphic) shark-fishing pictures at the link.]

"Suhardi isn’t your average snorkeling guide. Born on the Indonesian island of Lombok, he’s spent his life on water. While he now seeks out sharks for the enjoyment of tourists, he once hunted sharks to help earn money to feed his family and educate his two children.

Suhardi was a fisherman for more than 20 years. He first started fishing working on his parents’ boat, but was then asked to join the crew of a shark boat where he was told he could earn a lot of money. Back on deck, he looks embarrassed to divulge what a meager wage it was, but finally confesses he earned around $50 for up to a month at sea.

Now he and 12 other former shark fishermen are part of The Dorsal Effect, an ecotourism company that helps ex-shark hunters find a new vocation. Each week, the team takes groups of tourists, schoolchildren and university students to off-the-grid locations and guides them around pristine reefs. Each trip is designed to take guests on an exploratory journey of both the shark trade and marine conservation through the eyes of the Sasak people of Lombok.

Lombok is a hotspot for marine diversity, sitting just east of the Wallace Line, a biogeographical boundary separating Asia and Australia and their respective fauna. Pristine coral gardens and around 80 species of sharks can be found in its waters. The island is also part of the world’s largest shark-fishing nation. Only the whale shark (Rhincondon typus) is protected in Indonesia; all other sharks can be legally caught.

The Dorsal Effect first launched in 2013, a year after Suhardi met Singaporean ecologist Kathy Xu, who had traveled to Lombok to find out more about the shark trade. The diminutive but quietly determined Xu wanted to protect sharks, but because she knew shark fishing was poorly paid and dangerous, she wanted to hear the fishermen’s stories too. They told her how once they could fish for sharks close to shore, but now with the shark population dropping, the fishermen said they needed to travel farther out to sea, only to come home with a relatively poor catch. The reduced catch also meant reduced pay, so they often couldn’t cover their costs...

Yet, when Xu asked why fishers didn’t seek out another trade, she learned they didn’t want to be separated from the sea. They saw it as part of their heritage.

But as they spoke longer, the shark fishermen talked about the coral gardens that could be found under the waves, ones that only they knew about. Inspired by a whale shark diving trip she’d taken with scientists on the Great Barrier Reef, Xu had an idea. “If such spots exist,” she recalls telling the fishers, “I could take tourists out with you and pay you more than you earned shark fishing”.

At first, Xu guided the former shark fishermen on how to become eco-friendly tour operators. They dropped anchor away from the reef, served guests plant-based dishes, and made sure all trash was taken back to shore. But then Xu saw that something special was happening: The former fishermen had started to take the guest experience into their own hands, making sure tourists felt at home. Suhardi painted “Welcome” in large letters over the front of his boat, fitted green baize to the top deck for outdoor seating, and hung curtains in the cabin so his guests could enjoy some shade.

Suhardi has already bought a new boat with his earnings from snorkeling trips. “Every day is my best day,” laughs Suhardi, whose smile always travels from his mouth to his eyes.

While they were receiving tourists from across the globe, there was another group that Xu wanted to reach out to. “I think it was the teacher in me who felt impassioned about influencing the young,” she says. She reached out to schools and created a five-day program that would help students understand the shark trade and local conservation efforts. During the program, paid for by the school and students, participants would not only meet the ex-shark fishermen so they could ask them about their lives, but also hear from NGOs such as the Wildlife Conservation Society about their efforts to slow the trade. The Dorsal Effect also hired marine biologists to host nightly lectures and help the students with their field surveys...

The students were faced with the realities of the fishing trade, but they were also encouraged to take a balanced view by The Dorsal Effect team. The villagers weren’t just taking the fins, and throwing away the rest of the shark; they processed every piece of the animal. While they did sell the meat and fins to buyers at the market, they also sold the teeth to jewelers, and the remains for pet food.

The Dorsal Effect also takes students on an excursion to the fishermen’s village, a small island that lies off the coast of Lombok. Marine biologist Bryan Ng Sai Lin, who was hired by The Dorsal Effect team, says that on one trip with students he was surprised by how quickly the young people understood the situation. “One of them said it’s good to think about conservation, but at the same time these people don’t really have any other choice,” Lin says....

Conservation scientist Hollie Booth of Save Our Seas, which does not work directly with The Dorsal Effect, says the need to provide legal profitable alternatives to shark fishing is critical: “We are never going to solve biodiversity and environment issues unless we think about incentives and take local people’s needs into account. These kinds of programs are really important.”"

-via Mongabay, December 15, 2023

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formula1blog · 1 month

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Carlos Sainz 55- spending time

Carlos Sainz x Fem!Reader

Summary: you and your boyfriend finally have a day to yourselves. You want to make the most out of it.

Wc: 2,8k

Warning: lots of nicknames, translated Spanish, Some smutt at the end MDI!

DON'T USE MY WORK PLEASE

It was one of those days when you and your boyfriend both had the day off. It didn't happen often. Carlos was always traveling or training for the next race. He was on the other side of the globe most of the time. Being a personal stylist yourself and having your own mode magazine didn't leave you with a lot of spare time. You traveled a lot in the fashion season, attending shows and even walking some yourself. The thing was that when you had to travel, Carlos was home and vice versa. Of course you both visited each other at your work, supporting each other career. But both of you having free time was rare, so this was a special day.

This is how you found yourself in bed cuddled up against the chest of your Spanish boyfriend. You sun had woken you up because you had forgotten to close the curtains after last night's encounters. Both of you hadn't moved to close them, to wrapped up in each other's embrace. Your finger was painting circles on his bare chest as his hand went to massage your head. "This is nice." Carlos whispered, echoing your own thoughts as you both basked in the peacefulness of the morning. The world outside seemed to fade away, forgotten in the midst of your shared connection and the desire to simply be together. You knew you wanted to spend some time outside of your home today and for that you had to get up.

"We can go out for breakfast. I fancy some tortilla Espanola." You look up at your boyfriend, the corners of your mouth moving up in a smile. Carlos returned your smile, his eyes twinkling with warmth and affection as he leaned in to place a sweet kiss on your head. "Just give me a couple of minutes, mi vida. Then we can head out," he promised, his voice filled with tenderness and love. You hum in response. Carlos's fingers continued to weave through your hair, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine as you fought the urge to drift back to sleep. You didn't want to 'waste' this day together by laying in bed all day. You wanted to make the most of every moment spent in each other's company.

Eventually you both got out of bed. Your Dior slip on dress had moved a bit in your sleep, your side boob hanging out. "We can also just take it off completely." Carlos tucked on the dress a mischievous smile on his lips. Before he could take it off you slap his hand away. "You have to waite till tonight cariño. I want to go for breakfast first." he groans in response way too eager for your love right now. You laugh at him as you walk towards the bathroom. It had been your routine that Carlos would make you both a cup of coffee as you went to get dressed. After that you could pack as he took a shower. So that was exactly what you were both doing right now.

Carlos was sitting in the kitchen making two cups of coffee as he heard you singing in the other room. He smiled to himself. He really won in life with you. You walk out of the bathroom in only your blouse looking around for your necklace that you couldn't find. Carlos followed you with his eyes, sometimes looking down at your but. When he noticed that you were looking for something he stood up and went to stand behind you. Putting his hands in your waist he asks "What are you looking for?" You turn around facing him and look up to see in his eyes. His gorgeous big brown puppy eyes. "One of my Vivienne Westwood necklaces. The one that you got me. I don't know where I put it. "

"I got you lots of those." You were obsessed with her jewelry line and he just had to give you everything you looked at for more than one second. You had quite the selection of her stuff. "I know you did. I am forever grateful for that even if I tell you that you don't need to get me those." He shrugs his shoulders knowing he would buy you another right now. "The Valentina Pendant. Have you seen it?"

"Is that how you are going out." Carlos asks with a smile on his face as he looks at you still not wearing a skirt. A confused look appeared on your face thinking he didn't like what you were wearing before you saw that your legs were still bare of any clothes.

He did indeed see it a couple minutes ago. He lets go of your waist much to your own disliking and walks to the coffee table. The necklace was laying on top of the current book you were reading. He picked it up and walked back to you. He moved your hair to the side and put it around your neck. "Thank you." You turn around and stand on your tip toes to give him a kiss. He pulls you right back when you want to leave. His hands had moved down to your ass, squishing it a bit. You smile into the kiss and you almost give in to him. "Not now, Carlos. We have things to do. Go get ready!"

"Alright" He sighs. "There is coffee for you on the counter." He kisses your head and walks towards the other room. You thank him and grab your drink. Sitting down on one of the chairs you check your mail for any important news. You saw a new invitation for a fashion show and some questions about collaborating. You put them unread not wanting to answer them right away. You put your empty cup into the sink, also cleaning up after Carlos who hadn't yet cleaned up his stuff.

You ran back to the bedroom and walked out, this time wearing the skirt you wanted to wear. You checked if you had everything in your bag before walking out of the apartment.

You walk hand in hand through the busy streets of Madrid. Even though you had moved in by Carlos two years ago, the city never disappointed you.

You can't help but smile as he pulls out a chair for you to sit and you exchange warm glances. His efforts to showcase the beauty and charm of Spain never go unnoticed, but you playfully resist admitting that it is indeed the best country.

Carlos leans in closer, a playful glint in his eyes. "Come on, admit it. You know Spain is the best," he teases, nudging you gently.

You laugh, shaking your head. "Maybe it's pretty great, but I'll never say it's better than my home country."

The waiter approaches, interrupting your conversation, and you both place your orders. The suspense of your upcoming show hangs in the air as you share with Carlos that you received an email about a performance.

"So, when's the show? I can't wait to see you up there, shining on stage," he says with a grin, his eyes full of admiration.

"I still need to check the details. Don't want it to clash with any plans," you reply, a warm feeling of gratitude for his support. He nods his head agreeing with your statement.

As you sit at the cozy, sunlit table outside your favorite cafe in Madrid, you can't help but reflect on the memories you have made in this vibrant city. Three years back you were here on a holiday with a couple of friends. That was the moment that you met the man in front of you. The love of your life. You had gotten lost in the crowded streets and asked a stranger for directions. He walks you towards your destination and gave you his phone number. You hadn't sent him a message right away, scared that he may be a creep. Your friends had convinced you after they heard you say his name. They knew he wasn't a creep. He is your future husband.

You both look up by the sound of the waiter approaching your food. You take the food and thank him before turning back to your conversation.

"I cleared by schedule for next week so I can come to Imola with you." You say and take a bite from your tortilla Espanola. His face lights up as you mention it. "Really? I already have a paddock pass for you. You are going to bring me luck." You smile at him. It had been some time since you were in the paddock. You really hated yourself for not being there so often as other wags. They all have their own jobs and they still managed to visit their boyfriends.

After your brunch you walk through some shops. Carlos had bought a new suit for an upcoming event he had to attend. You had bought a matching dress for the event and a new top for next race weekend.

Right now you were walking in a Victoria Secret and were looking at some new lingerie sets. The last two were broken after some fun activities you had done with Carlos. "What about this one." He shows the set to Carlos. It was a blue one, with lace trim and a little heart on the nipple coverage.

"It is beautiful, just like all these others you have chosen." He sat admiring you in every piece. He was already carrying some of the sets you had picked out and you disliked the idea of him having to waite much longer so you got dressed in your own clothes. When you got out of the changing room Carlos had already paid for everything and was carrying your bags. When you asked for them he just gave you his hand and walked out of the shop.

"You didn't have to pay for that. I got my own money."

"What kind of boyfriend would I be to let you pay. Everything you want i will get it for you, mi amor." He kisses your cheek. You blush at his words. "What if I wanted to get a special limited edition car that cost way too much."

"Then I get it for you. Do you have anything in mind right now. I know that you want a Porsche. I can get it for you. Or a Ferrari, I personally really like those." He jokes in the last sentence.

It was getting late and you were walking back. "Want to get some ice cream?"Carlos asks as he points towards a Gelato shop.

"Won't your trainer disapprove?" You ask, knowing that ice cream isn't part of his training and dieting schedule. You are pretty sure it is somewhere at the bodem, just under all other delicious food. "What he doesn't know doesn't hurt him. Lets go." He takes your arm and together you walk to the shop. The line isn't too long and you can already order after five minutes.

"I love ice cream." You lick your cone. You had gotten a cone with pistache and white chocolate. You always take the same, can't go wrong with pistache. It is the best. Carlos had a cone with a vanilla scoop. A bit basic, but always delicious too.

Carlos was still carrying your bags so he couldn't take your hand for the rest of the walk home. You had tried multiple times to ask to hand over your bags, but he just shrug and walked further.

You had stopped and took a picture of the sunset. While you were doing that Carlos took pictures of his sunset, You. For him you are the most beautiful thing in this universe. When you were done it didn't take long to reach your apartment.

He opens up the door for you to walk through and you find yourself back in your home. You go to sit on a chair and take off your heels. "Finally free." Carlos shakes his head. He knows that those heels go and hurt your feet after more than one hour and still you refuse his suggestion to wear more comfortable shoes.

Carlos walks towards the bathroom and you take this as your cue to run to your bedroom. You grab your Victoria secret bag and take out one of the sets that you had just bought. Carlos hadn't seen this one yet. It was a red piece with little coverage. You put it on and admire yourself in the mirror. You hoped he liked it.

You heard the door open again and you went to place yourself on the bed. "Carlos, can you come here real quick?" You say as his footsteps get closer. You see him stop right in his tracks as his eyes stop you. "Mierda, eres tan Hermosa." he breathes out as he walks closer to you. He goes to sit on the bed and you lock eyes. His hand grabs your chin as he moves your head closer to his. Your lips touch into a deeply kiss as a soft moan escapes his lips. You move yourself onto his lap.

You start to move your hips into his and Carlos groans at the sudden movement against his dick. The bulge in his pants was growing with each movement that you made. A moan leaves your mouth at the growing feeling under you. His lips attach to your neck as his hands move you closer to him. He leaves a trail of kisses down to your breast before staying in one place which was definitely going to leave a mark tomorrow. Your finger tucks on his shirt mentioning it that it has to go off. "It isn't fair that you are still wearing all of your clothes." He removes one of his hands from your ass and takes off his shirt.

You go from his lap to help him with his belt. You stroke your hand over his throbbing area, this time a louder moan leaves his mouth and it sounds like heaven to you. Tonight the neighbors won't be getting any sleep. You go further down the bed as Carlos takes of his pants leaving him in only his underwear. He towers over you both hands on either side of your head. He leans back down to place a kiss on your lips. You gasp as his hands move up your leg towards your wetness. He slips in his tongue when your mouth opens. "So needy for me already." He says as his fingers stroke over you pussy. The thin fabric of the lingerie doesn't do too much as you feel yourself asking for more. "Please, Carlos. I need you to touch me. "

He smirks. He pulls down your panties. He puts in one finger helping your adjust to it a bit before adding another. He keeps kissing you as he starts pumping his finger into your pussy. Moans leave your mouth as he takes up the speed. "So beautiful. So loud and all for me."He leaves a kiss between your breast. Your riding his fingers had been something you looked forward to since this morning. He feels you getting closer around his fingers and he takes them out just before you reach your climax. You groan in frustration as you feel empty. "Why?" You cry out. He places another kiss to make it up. "I want you to come all over my cock, princessa."

He takes off his underwear and his already hard cock springs out. You moan at the sight of it. "Please, just fuck me. " He puts his dick by your entrance moving it a bit up and down. Your hand fly in to his hair pulling in frustration. You need him now.

He enters you and fills you up. Pain went over you but it was fast replaced with pleasure as he began to move in and out of you. Your hands grab the duvet under you and the feeling of pleasure goes over you. "Papi, faster" You scream out. Carlos didn't mind if everyone heard you. Right now was all about love. He picks up his pace and your eyes roll into the back of your mind. You feel a familiar knot forming in your belly and you know you are close "Don't stop, please I am so close." He feels himself getting closer to his own orgasm as you tighten around him. He goes a bit faster and you back arches. Heavy panting is heard as you both come riding out your orgasms.

Carlos catches his breath before sliding out of you an empty feeling leaving you behind. He walks to the bathroom and gets a wet towel. He helps clean you up and places a kiss on your mouth. " I love you, mi vida." He lays next to you and you put your head on his chest. " I love you too."

#carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x you #Carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz 55 #carlos sainz x oc #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz #f1 #formula 1 #carlos sainz imagine #f1 imagine #formule1 #f1 fanfic #carlos sainz fanfic #f1 x reader

246 notes · View notes

iznsfw · 10 months

Text

Drunken

Loossemble's Son Hyeju x Male Reader Smut

19,012 words

Categories | cheating, longtimecrush!Hyeju, mutual feelings, drunk sex, daddy kink (and daddy issues), fingering, squirting, titfucking, anal, choking

Thank you for commissioning! Researched for the fic, ended up falling in love with Son Hyeju. Please give this a chance and read this for the story, too, and not only the smut. I indulged too much in this.

The relationship Hyeju and OC have is very much inspired by the one Cassy and Rob have in In the Woods by Tana French. Read it, please. Was amazing. The story was also written with someone I'm currently so in love with in mind, but we're not going to talk about that here.

And no, there's never enough daddy kink stories :P

“This is not fair,” the two of you say the very second you step into your shared dorm.

Two papers in two hands of two people that show two scores that aren’t up to par for the two’s standards. You and Hyeju were always meant to be a dynamic duo: peas in a pod in every way possible, and that includes academic success and failure. It’s like there’s a kind of telepathic force between you that sends the other down with you, too. It’s too late to try and cut the connection when you’ve known Hyeju all your life, a wish that’s beyond reality for plenty of the boys at Idalso.

The dorm is clean. Mostly. You’ve done your best to tidy up the pile of clothes at the end of Hyeju’s bunk bed and she’s done the same for the relatively empty bags of chips you haven’t stopped the habit of laying around, but there’s still the telltale signs that if Hyeju isn’t organized, you aren’t either. Printed drafts of your thesis lay crumpled on the floor. Her posters are minutes away from falling off the poorly painted walls. The air-conditioner doesn’t work as well as it did in your freshman year when your rowdiness outdoors—knocking into each other, trying to race to the door and ending up messing up the other’s clothes that were ironed in a rush—isn’t as compensating.

Today, the rowdiness is lost. It gets translated into rough groans that follow you on the way to the dorms.

That’s when you realize it.

You and Hyeju look at each other. Both of your pairs of eyes widen.

“Miss Ha failed your test?” she asks, normally bored pupils widening in disbelief.

“Miss Ha failed my test.”

“No erasure rule?”

“No erasure rule.”

“Oh my god.”

Ball up the paper and shoot it in the air. It adds to the numerous pieces of parchment on the floor. You kick the rest of them in the air while your roommate slumps on her bed and groans.

“Fuck this,” you say, hands on your head. There comes the urge to tear all your hair out and leave it at that damned professor’s door, blood and all, to make her at least feel a miniscule bit of remorse for failing you. You didn’t deserve that. You studied and studied and she still had to implement that stupid rule.

Hyeju catches a wrinkled and crumpled paper globe. Her sui generis lips release a soft sigh. “At least we have thesis confetti,” she says sullenly.

“I’m dropping out,” you declare. You’re surprised at how serious you sound. Normally you’d say it just to get a laugh out of yourself, but now you’re actually considering doing it.

“If you drop out, I’m dropping out, too,” she answers, looking at you spitefully. “And then who’s going to take care of Daniel?”

Think of Daniel. He isn’t your roommate but he’s gotten close with you and Hyeju the past few years. “His inheritance is what’s gonna take care of him. Did you forget he’s rich as shit?”

“Oh, right. How could I forget about him?”

You start picking up the papers of your drafts faster and knocking them harder into the wall. Why are you doing that? Nope, don’t have an answer to that. There’s a fiery rage inside you that Hyeju’s latest sentence is the arsonist of.

“The fuck are you doing?” she asks in amusement. There’s a hint of disgust on her face. “Calm down. What’re you, my dad or something?”

“S-sorry.” You know the whole deal she has with her dad. You have to stop—thus, drop the balls of papyrus from your hand. “It was just… I don’t know why I did that.”

Maybe you do. Can’t be about the test though it’s why you started throwing a thesis tantrum.

“Chill out, dude.” She pats your shoulder and gives you a pouty look. “If you want to play strict dad with me: no, I don’t like Daniel. If I did, I would have sat on his lap and said,” she assumes a high voice and flutters her eyelashes at you, leaning on your side, “‘Let me help you with that, darling. I’ll do the dishes, too! Or maybe you want to put a baby in me while I squeeze the soap on your di—’”

“Stoooop!”

Throw a pillow at her. She dodges it and sticks her tongue out at you. Oh yeah. How could you forget that she plays dodgeball with the friend who’s taken up the topic of your conversation?

Oh god, shouldn’t have reminded yourself that Hyeju and your other friend hang out. You’re feeling weird again.

“Earth to daddy, Earth to daddy,” she says, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Li’l shit, what’s gotten into you?”

You’re feeling something again. It creeps into your heart and tugs at its strings, just like how your roommate loves to tie knots in yours and watch you struggle around trying to walk with them. That’s how it felt when she called you that. It’s not the first time she took on a roleplaying banter with you yet that specific title has you hot.

You need to take a walk. Take a walk to somewhere that doesn’t have you in a place where you could easily pin Son fucking Hyeju to the wall and kiss her till the heat subsides.

Walking is your only exercise. You care not for the gyms and weights—why pressure yourself with those when you could just go for a simple walk? An hour is already sufficient enough to burn the breakfast. Only downside is that you get quite hungry afterwards, and though you don’t care for counting calories either, you’re pretty sure the food you have after your strolls is more than the amount you burned.

Actually, you could think of another downside: Hyeju doesn’t join you. She’s a homebody. A couch potato. A living pillow. She prefers to lounge at the dorm and play games instead of going out. She rarely comes along, which is why you’re guaranteed a few hours of isolation.

When you take into consideration that it isn’t isolation if tentative feelings accompany you, you’re partly glad Hyeju didn’t come along.

“Hey, is that you?”

You smile. There he is. You always pass by the apartments this time, and the old man who owns it is one of the few people you’re fond of. Being friends with a landlord wasn’t on your college bingo card, but you’re glad it happened. He’s kind, has white hair that almost matches the color of the spaces he owns, and a mouth that can simultaneously be like that of a sailor’s and a doting grandfather.

“Hi, mister Kim.”

“Hi there yourself,” he chirps. His smile is bright. Can’t say the same about the flickering bulb back in your dorm. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

Red colors your cheeks. “Hyeju’s not my girlfriend.”

“Never said she was.” He winks.

The explosion of scarlet first starts at your ears. He got you. But it isn’t exactly you to blame—everyone likes to push you and your girl best friend together. The old man knows what he’s doing. He just likes to toy around with you.

“Mister Kim, don’t be like that,” you say. Scratch the back of your neck.

“I’ll be however the hell I want,” he replies, crossing his arms t in a friendly stance. “You two’re always glued to each other.”

“We’re just friends, sir.”

“Just friends my ass. Whenever that girl visits me, she’s always talking about you. It’s like you’re the only thing on her mind.”

That revelation was so out of nowhere, yet you welcome it. You like knowing that Hyeju, the girl you adore, adores you just as much. It’s the mutual feeling of fondness that keeps you breathing.

“T-that doesn’t mean anything,” you say humbly. You’re somewhat right—just because Hyeju hides the truth that she drones on about you doesn’t mean she has a crush on you. You’ve seen and met her exes, and even back then they’re miles more charming than you.

“Wanna bet?”

“I’m broke—”

“No, no. Not in that way.” He shakes his head. “If you and Hyeju actually end up together, I’m letting you live in one of my apartments for free.”

“Mister Kim—”

“Think about it for your old man, will you?”

With that, he shows you a knowing smile and turns his back. Nothing more is said.

Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.

Anyone and everyone says the opposite. They treat you and her like famed characters on a popular teen show, pairing you up with each other and tearing off all hesitancy about thinking that they might be going too far.

But now you’re here to make a stand against those falsehoods: contrary to popular belief, Son Hyeju isn’t the love of your life, and although you’ve been friends for so long people’d expect you walked into kindergarten class with your hand in hers, it’s completely platonic between the two of you.

There are no feelings. No speck of a disgusting yearning in your hearts despite the late night stroll you had to take to stop your wistful thoughts. No sir. Hyeju doesn’t love you that way, and neither do you. It’s simple.

Doesn’t seem that simple when you wake up in the dorm with what’s supposed to be a groan that folds itself back down your throat when you see her curled up in the other bed, blankets splayed and curled around her. No makeup on, except for lip balm she smears around her triangle-shaped mouth when they get chapped. No care for how she looks in the air (doesn’t matter when that’s the way you like it, the way she likes it). She lies there with slumber that could only be induced by an unmerciful college.

You’re glad you have her while you’re battered by the same cause of her sleep.

You try to be silent but her eyes open anyway. Her eyes are squinted, and she kind of looks like an emoticon as she pers around. She doesn’t know when or where she is. Grin because neither do you sometimes, but now that you hold that knowledge, you share it with her.

“Earth to Hyeju, Earth to Hyeju.” Echo her words from last night and resound them back to her.

“Earth?” she groans. “Wake me up when Idalso sends me to Mars.”

Yeah, that’s the Hyeju you know. The Hyeju you love.

(Huh? Where did that come from?)

“I’ll go with you. Could use miss Jeong not trying to kill me.”

Hyeju runs a hand through her hair groggily and smiles sweetly. “Maybe she should come along and go through with killing you if you don’t stop ‘forgetting’ to pay me that five thousand.”

“Cute. I’ll pay you later, I promise.” Rise to sling the blinds up, letting light five-thirty a.m. sun spill through the squares. “Catch some breakfast at McDonald’s before class?” you offer. She’s your usual companion in the morning—you’d split the bill (because “you’re broke, and I’m broke,” she said, “it’s only fair we try to stop being poor together”) and have a nice opening meal of egg and chicken nuggets.

“Sweetie, it’s Saturday today,” she reminds you. “Don’t you remember?” She looks up from her phone and smiles at you condescendingly, as if she knew how that friendly nickname causes your system to shut down.

You try not to show it. Try not to make it obvious that you turned your head to hide the fact that you were flustered. The fact that despite being only friends with her your chest still tightens at her casual pet names for you, like what she called you last night as well. It’s what friends do: joke with each other, call them unflattering names one second then sweet ones the next. The dorm has enough fans to keep the air circulated, and the sweat you broke last night is gone. So if that’s that, why do you feel so warm right now?

You wonder if Hyeju also feels the same heat in her stomach when you say, “Grandpa can’t remember things well anymore, darling. You’ve got to cut him some slack.”

“Wow, okay. That’s one way to put it, I guess.”

It’s lucky that it’s still dark enough for your red ears to be invisible. You hate it when you mess up your laid-back persona in front of Hyeju, the one you put up whenever you engage in these playful arguments. “Look,” you say, “do you want to get McDonald’s or not?”

“Can’t. Won’t. Shan’t. Too lazy.”

Your heart sinks. “Fine, I’ll just go to a café then. Still have that thesis to do.”

Hyeju lays back into the bed and shuts her eyes. She’s learned that when there’s a chance to sleep, she should take it. To you, it doesn’t look like she’ll let go of this one, even if rejecting it means eating together with you.

You put on a coat and some shoes, then turn away. Fine, let her be like that. What did you even expect? You can’t be her only priority in life. Sleep, of course, and rest should come first, especially if you’re a college student. You have to brush the hurt creeping in your heart and do your own thing, just like you’d let her do hers.

Don’t catch her eyes opening and lingering on you. Your back is turned and therefore doesn’t let you see it. But if only you did, you wouldn’t have been doubtful about your future concerns, all related to her.

This is a different story though. This isn’t a love story—if anything, it’s how a love story ends.

Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.

Yes, it bears repeating. Sometimes you need to say it again to convince yourself. Convince yourself that you’re not constantly in lectures wishing that it was her beside you instead of your groupmate. Convince yourself that your soul doesn’t shatter in pieces when she refuses to join you in anything.

Maybe you just need someone to talk it out with. Yes, that’s right. The whimsical yearning in your heart isn’t for Hyeju. You swear on it.

Oh, but you’ve never been very good at that.

“What’s going on? I came as quick as I could,” says Daniel. Yeah, that’s his name. It’s a common name that sounds foreign and unique, especially since he’s a transfer student who came from the U.S.. He has pale skin and brown eyes that are as kind as he is. You like him—he’s the only one you bother bearing besides Hyeju.

But this isn’t about her. You need to let go of her. What? “Let go of her”? Why do you think about her like you two were actually a thing?

“Nothing. Just… feelings.”

“Something happened?” He sits down and looks around confusedly. “Wait, where’s Hyeju?”

“That’s the thing,” you say as you smile tightly. “She’s what happened.”

Daniel’s not stupid. And even if we say that he was, he’s been your friend for two years. It’s short in comparison to your time with Hyeju, you know, but it remains impressive. You don’t have that many friends besides them. That, of course, eventually led to Hyeju and Daniel becoming friends with each other. That’s the reason for him catching your drift—he knows you like the back of his hand.

You order the third cheapest option on the list: an iced latte. Your friend opts for a croissant and some tea, something that reminds you that he isn’t actually from Korea. You often forget that when his Korean is more fluent than a native’s and he gels with other people so quickly. He’s an easy-going guy with everything flowing well for him.

“Let me guess: she did something?” he asks. Alright, close enough. His fingers drum a steady rhythm on the table while yours do so on your laptop keyboard.

“Yeah.” Shake your head immediately and contradictingly. What are you saying? “No. Yeah, probably. But I think it’s my fault.”

No, it isn’t a mere probability of it being your fault. It is your fault. Why are you placing expectations on Hyeju to show up for you? It isn’t on her that you get hurt when she doesn’t have the time or willpower to come along with you. So, why are you even bothering to talk about this? You should let this matter slide. Brush it under the carpet. Rewrite the news headlines. Whatever.

“Ah, couple’s quarrels,” Daniel says teasingly. He thanks the waiter for his croissant then takes a healthy bite into it. “Out of the honeymoon phase already?”

Should you be delighted that people think that she’s yours and you’re hers? You’re split between these two emotions—choose to be frustrated instead.

“Why does everybody think that we’re a couple?”

“Well.” Your friend twirls his teaspoon into the dainty cup. Drill your eyes on it. The café is simple and affordable to eat from, but the furniture and aesthetic make you think of it as a fancier place to eat it. “You’re always together.”

“That’s all?”

“Let me finish. When some guy has the balls to ask her out, she says she has a boyfriend. She shows him your profile and number. She goes, ‘My boyfriend wouldn’t be too happy about that.’”

The latte somehow doesn’t finish its journey through the straw. “She does?”

You’re split between two thoughts to go by again. You should be happy that your friend, a friend who’s a girl moreover (never confuse a friend who’s a girl with a girlfriend—ever), feels safe enough with you to refer to you as someone who’d protect her, whether from creeps or the aggressive dogs that patrol your college grounds. It takes real trust to call a guy who’s a friend (again, avoid the confusion) your boyfriend when the time requires it. This means she trusts you to come to her if she needs saving from an odd guy or an escape out of situations.

But at the same time, you wonder if that’s what you really are to her, what you’ll only ever be to her: a fake boyfriend. The guy friend who doesn’t mind being called a boyfriend because he knows his low place in her heart. Does Hyeju even look at you as someone who’s not just an acquaintance?

“Yeah,” Daniel says matter-of-factly. “She really likes having you around.”

You don’t need to think about it when you reply, softly: “I do, too.”

The two of you sit in silence you don’t know the source of. Daniel stops eating suddenly. Similarly, all the appetite is lost and you have to put your plastic cup of latte down before you throw it at the wall and ruin the dining experience for everyone else. No, this is your problem. You should deal with it before dragging anyone into it.

“So, why did you call me? What is it about Hyeju?”

Ah, what are you thinking? Daniel shouldn’t even be here. Why did you even call him over? You did and now you don’t know why you suddenly want to throw the contents of your plastic cup into his face. If you give in, you’d be feeding into the delusion that he’s the one standing between you and Hyeju.

That only leads to the second question of the day:

Why do you suddenly hate Daniel? Daniel is a nice guy. He doesn’t even make a move on her or disrespect her.

You don’t like these feelings. It’s causing you to think all sorts of nonsense about everybody else, not excluding Daniel, who hasn’t done anything wrong.

“I…” Sigh. This is the second time you’re finding an escape route so that you could be alone with your feelings. “I have to think about it. I need some time alone.”

“Oh, sure. Sorry about that.”

Hate how more guilt washes over your heart. See here, he doesn’t even protest or say something that might even be right, like tell you how you called him to come over in the first place or how there isn’t a good reason why he should leave. He simply wraps his croissant with a plastic he asked for at the counter and leaves, tea and all.

Great. Now you’re alone, like you usually are and always will be. Attempt to use it as a pro and work on your thesis. Type it all down on a Word document. Wait patiently, as you learned to, as your old laptop stops for the suffering you’ve caused it with the extra storage taken up by assignments. Contact your groupmates. Remind them to do their jobs.

It’s all going so well. That’s when she pulls up to the cafe you’ve been writing at with her hands perched on the wooden surface of your table, with the smirk that doesn’t ever leave without making sure it’s her certified look featured on her lips.

No need to mention names when there's only one girl who could make your world stop spinning.

You can’t stop staring, and it’s not even because she turned up out of nowhere. You’re always in a state of shock when Hyeju is around.

She never allows her hair to be restrained in a tight tail, so there she is with those luscious black locks spilling all over her shoulders. How she manages to look so cool and be the very person everyone wishes to be while having those soft cheeks only the evillest of people wouldn’t pinch you don’t know. Son Hyeju is cool and cute at the same time, somehow balancing those everyday without effort.

But you don’t love her. Just to remind everyone once again. No matter what happens, you have no feelings for her. And that’s that.

"Hey," she says, putting her weight on one arm. Then she curves down her head to peer at your screen. "Whatchu doin'?"

Immediately slam your laptop shut and look at her with annoyed eyes. Oh, why do you even try? You could never despise her. You could pray to god all night and day for you to hate Hyeju, to hate her to the ends of the Earth just to banish these strange feelings, and he wouldn't give in. Crazier and crazier her antics shall get and you'd remain loyal to her.

And that's all because she's a good friend. That's everything there is to it.

Wait. Who are you convincing again?

"Oh, come on. Smile a little, pretty boy." Hyeju places a finger on one edge of your mouth then pulls it upwards. "There you go. Suh-miiile—"

Pretty boy. She called me a pretty boy.

"You p-plan on getting off the table or what?" you say.

People are staring at you and Hyeju but that isn't what's making you blush. What's gotten into you? You can't tell yourself it's because of her simply because it isn't because of her. Hyeju has as much effect on you as a cup of coffee.

(You thrive off caffeine, by the way, but that's not the point.)

"Sure. No. Uh… probably?" She looks up at the ceiling as if she's figuring something out, then clicks her tongue when she does. "Yep, nah."

Groan.

Secretly, confessed only in the deepest corners of your mind, you like people paying attention to you and Hyeju. It’s not much about the attention itself but the way it makes them think that the two of you must be really close. Like, really really close. The kind that makes those who want Hyeju rush to her only to be met in the face with a barrier: you. They can’t have her because you do.

Not in that way, of course, but it still means something. If she has you, nobody else could, and if you have her, more so.

"Son Hyeju,” you say, fighting back the smile on your face as she ruffles your hair, “I swear to god—"

"Oh, please," says Hyeju, leaning forward with narrowed eyes and a wicked smile, "spare me, oppa. Spare me the blasphemy—"

That's enough from her, you think. Your hands dive for her waist. Pull her down onto your lap. Your thighs soften the blow and also play the role of a launch pad as one kick sends Hyeju in the air. More chances to tickle her come along with it. Okay, that bit about the lap was wholly unintentional, and you'll swear to god again for that.

What isn't unintended though is the tickling you do on Hyeju's midriff and arms. It helps that she's so sensitive—soon she's laughing boisterously, struggling in your lap with her head upturned and triangle-shaped mouth letting out unkempt guffaws. She nearly kicks the two of you out of the café seat.

"Dude, you are such a loser, stop!" she laughs, still winding around like a screw on top of you. Laughs alternate between each syllable. "P-people are looking, fffucking quit—"

When that beautiful gummy smile breaks on her face, you don't want to. People can look as much as they like and you wouldn't give a damn. Tickling is Hyeju's punishment, and you'll do it to her anywhere to teach her a lesson.

"Ha, haha, I'm sorry, okay!"

"That's my girl."

You’re not hurt anymore. For a few delicious minutes, you’ll forget you were ever pondering if you like her or not.

Stop completely because you’re easy to convince like that All she needed was that one magic word. Place her on the chair beside you and fold her hands on her lap as if she were a misbehaving child.

"Now behave yourself."

Hyeju rolls her eyes. "And if I don't?" she challenges you.

You raise your fingers in a curled position and direct them threateningly centimeters away from her ticklish spots. She gives up. She can't find a punishment worse than that.

"Why are you here anyway? I thought you didn’t want to come," you say, taking the liberty to open your laptop again. The screen directs you to your assignment tab after you type in your password. Sigh; still five thousand words to go.

"I'm here because I've got nowhere else to be," she answers. She practices her own liberty, too, and sips shamelessly at your iced beverage.

Her eyes light up at the taste. "I got bored being alone in the dorm."

You think of her alone, and your heart immediately sinks. Maybe you should have stayed there. You’re her roommate—you’re there for her to have company. Sure, the roommates were paired up randomly, but it must lead to something now that you and Hyeju have met again. It was by pure chance that she reunited with you after years of being apart. There’s a string drawing you together, and you don’t know what it means.

You do know that the reunion with your childhood best friend and seeing how she’s grown made your heart flutter. You act all mean when you’re around her, which is confusing when you’ve missed her so much.

"And I needed somewhere else to finish this thesis before miss Wong realizes it was due three weeks ago." Glare pointedly at her. Here you go again. Told you so. "Somewhere that's not occupied by a brat."

It's true. Call it what you will: an insult, a pointless accusation, but what you said rings true even in your childhood best friend's defiant mind. She could be a handful often.

"I am not a brat," she says, offended. She knows the truth and chooses to deny it. Typical. You should have seen that coming when she’s the girl who lies about the extra dishes in the sink not being her fault and her turn with the laundry.

Sigh. Act as the lawyer; you’re studying to be one anyway. It’s best to practice. "Remember when you cut up the slogan on the mayo label then taped it on me? I had 'white creamy filling; taste me!' on my back for the whole day!"

"It was a big-ass sticker for a mayonnaise, okay? I couldn't stop myself." Hyeju admits this with hands raised in defeat. "But what about that time you shoved a Toblerone in my mouth while I was sleeping then took a photo of me?"

Raise your hands, too. You realize there's no way to weigh in the blame on a single person when you and Hyeju brought the brat out of each other. It's impossible to go by a day that isn't filled by at least one prank and joking quarrels.

Still, you find it fun. Hyeju's so easy to bond with, so easy to love.

Whoa, where did that suddenly get here? Like you said, you love Hyeju, but only as a friend.

So you do love her, in a way. Huh.

That realization settles in and suddenly you're rendered frozen at the table. Your hands that ought to be finishing your schoolwork are frozen in mid-air. You're staring at the screen like you were watching a gory movie instead of trying to tick off your to-do list.

"You okay?" she asks, one-of-a-kind lips sealed around the paper straw. "You kind of, like, went to another dimension for a bit."

How do you tell her you’re considering the fact that you might actually like her? You’ve known her for years. Something’s inevitably going to bloom inside you for her, right?

"Y-yeah. I'm good." Not. “And stop drinking my coffee.”

“You wouldn’t need it if you just did the thesis early. What’s so hard about it anyway?” Hyeju stands then bends over to glance at your laptop.

You don’t realize how short her dress is. It rides up to the centers of her thighs and you don’t know how to prevent anyone from seeing something forbidden without brushing down the hem of her dress. If you went down that road, you’d have to run your hand along her back and ass—you’d look like a pervert.

Idiot. Think of something. Something that isn’t how you’d love to see more when you're just like everyone and shouldn't be allowed more eye access to her body. Only you know how many times Hyeju’s body came up in your mind when you were alone. Paired up with that attractive face that held a permanent pout, it’s impossible not to think of anything else.

“Ugh! You are so dumb, you know that, oppa?” To your horror, Hyeju sits down neatly on your lap. She has her hands quickly frisking on your keyboard. “There’s a comma missing here, and a citation over here… oh, and a—”

“Save some for the rest of us!” a man about your age and height yells jokingly, cheering you on with a raise of his mug of hot coffee.

Both you and Hyeju look at him with confusion written all over your faces. Your words of surprise almost sync and match with the other for you realize your hands are on her hips, and Hyeju’s leaning back so comfortably in you that anyone would have thought it was another case of couple’s PDA. They’d be wrong though. She’s not your girlfriend. She can’t be your girlfriend.

So why is she so comfortable on top of you, as if she’s always been there? Why did your hands naturally rest on the beautiful slopes of her hips and pull her down the moment she stooped?

The guy’s grandmother smiles adoringly. “Young love,” she says with a dreamy tinge to her aged voice. "What wouldn't I give to experience that again."

You and Hyeju meet each other’s gazes and suddenly you’re unattached to each other. She guiltily settles on her chair and you take your hands off her. That was wrong. Why were the two of you so comfortable with being so touchy? Best friends don’t do that. At least, not best friends of the opposite sex.

“I should go,” she stammers, standing up. “Call me i-if you need help, oppa.”

Just like that, she’s gone. Where did she go? Why did you lose her so fast?

Hyeju’s always called you oppa one way or another, but that moment left a particular jar in your heart. It shards the depths of the core and renders you speechless. You didn’t know that the person you’d love to hear that title the most from is your best friend. She’s supposed to call you that when she’s younger, but even if she weren’t, you’d still love to hear her call you that.

There’s a sense of fulfillment in being able to be Hyeju’s oppa. The one she always relies on. The one she sticks to through whatever happens. That’s why now that she’s told you to call her if you need help makes you ache. It’s the things that are seemingly so simple as that that send more yearning inside you.

The question is: what exactly are you yearning for? Who are you yearning for?

You think you know the answer. It’d take guts to admit it, to finally come clean. But what’s there to come clean about? You don’t love Hyeju.

A ding from your phone just now. You’re nearly finished with the thesis, and it’s lucky that way since it’s from Hyeju. God knows she has ways of distracting you. Her clean moves at the dance she led and her chill yet stern voice when she commands a rowdy classroom steer you away from what you should be doing, like get away from her. Avoid her at all costs. Never tell her what you’re feeling because it’ll only end up badly for everyone involved. You don’t want to hurt Hyeju, and still you remain hopeful to not get yourself hurt, too.

It takes several seconds for courage to tie you down and pick up the phone. It’s a series of texts from her.

HyejU_U: hey

Sooooooooo

I’m sorry for what happened earlier.

I didn’t really think and thought that you'd be fine with it

cause yknow

You pulled me down

and

We’re friends.

right?

Yeah, we’re friends, you think bitterly. And no matter how touchy you get, Son Hyeju, it’s all we’ll ever be to you.

HyejU_U: can we just move forward from it? If you want to ofc

Do you? Graduation is near and it’s still taken plenty of years of your life to get over Hyeju. Do you go forward and start on a new slate with her, or dwell in places you shouldn’t be?

Your fingers linger on the keyboard, then—

You: Sure.

Sorry, too

if i like

Made you feel uncomfortable

Wasnt my intention, i promise

HyejU_U: oh you didnt make me feel uncomfy at all.

So don’t worry <3

What a relief.

HyejU_U: i should be the one apologizing anyway

I thought it would be nice to be on you since ur arms feel good around me

Cock a brow. A giddy smile itches at the ends of your lips. Stifle it you will, though she can’t see you through her screen.

HyejU_U: sorry again

i just wanted to see if what i thought was true

Anyways.

yeah, sorry.

You: so we’re good?

HyejU_U: we have a deal, dickface

;)

See, this is the thing you’re afraid to lose with Hyeju: the carefreeness of your little friendly touches and hugs, insults that take it just far enough, everything. If you told her how you felt (keep in mind that you might not actually like her romantically; you’re just thinking that you might), you’d lose your relationship with her—the one that formed before the two of you even knew what romance was. The one that’s kept the reunion as natural as could be without the need for awkwardness.

You’re so glad to have her back. As a student you’ve nearly cried knowing you passed a semester and worked night and day to finish a difficult assignment—none of those feelings can match the one of relief you felt when Hyeju told you everything was good on both ends.

But for now, you’ve gotta try to put a dent into this thesis. You’re almost done, you swear. You’ve just been stalling—not intentionally. You swear on that, too. Your whole afternoon’s been swamped up in thoughts about her plus the thoughts about if you’re too perverted a man to be with her. There are a lot of questions left by you immediately responding to Hyeju choosing to sit on your lap. A lot of which are left unanswered.

Priorities. Sigh a little; there’s still work to be done, yet worrying about your best friend is on top of the list. You really should find a hobby when you’re already dragging your teammates behind. Plus, there’s the capstone to worry about that you haven’t prepared for even in the most miniscule bit. So there really shouldn’t be an explanation for why thinking about what she thinks of you is your number one priority. Why, you have plenty of other things to worry about.

You just can’t get her off your mind. These days it’s impossible to.

Abstain anyway, the best you can, from thinking about her and finally complete the thesis. It’s lengthy, well-edited, and has the perfect format to finally make you a lawyer. Attorney doesn’t sound too bad when it’s added to the front of your name.

You should celebrate, actually. The moment you think of it, Daniel suddenly messages you. He’s saying something about it being a Saturday, so you should go to the bar with him. You’re a social drinker, anyway. You could go there without going overboard. Addictions and vices form in these years of fresh adulthood, but you’ve never found yourself wound up in something.

So you do. They ask for your IDs and let you in after a short study of the cards. The guard gives you a lengthy lecture about not being alcoholics as young as you are, but welcomes you anyway.

If we’re talking about getting yourself wound up in someone, though…

“Dude,” Daniel says. He motions his glass to someone coming from the door. “Hyeju.”

You already know he’s rich, but what teacher did he pay to study him into mind-reading? “I wasn’t thinking about her,” you tell him defensively.

“No, I mean, she’s here.” He stares at said woman walking over to the bar with swaying hips. “How the fuck did she get here?”

Hyeju’s here? Swallow. Quick. What do you say? Where exactly in the bar is she right now? Why is she here? When did she get here? Why the fuck are you talking like a news reporter?

“Hullo, boys.” She stops your train of thought and makes sure to dedicate all of them to her with her hands set on the table and a pretty crop top attached to the curves on her perfect body. You wonder where she got that dress. If she thrifted it, it isn’t obvious—her body does good work in making it look like couture.

“Hi, Hyeju.” Daniel acknowledges her with a nod. He’s a friend of yours and hers, just to remind everyone. He wouldn’t take another step with Hyeju, but you still have yourself staring daggers into his stubbled beard that lines his face and how he takes life as he would a game. There’s a reason why you’re the least tipsy among the two of you. He likes a challenge.

“Hi,” you say meekly. Hope your voice doesn’t sound twisted when your stomach suddenly is. Oh, and it’s not because of Hyeju. It’s the alcohol, pinky promise with a finger heart after. Alcohol’s never made your stomach turn this way though.

Hyeju regards the shotglasses. “You went drinking without me?”

“What does it look like?” Daniel asks, giving her the finger. It’s just the usual friendly argument that doesn’t cross lines or anything. The ones that you and Hyeju have. Why do you feel like punching him in the face?

Luckily, she doesn’t have a fragile heart. “Cute. Keep it that way.” She rolls her eyes then turns to you. “Oh, and you. I thought you liked having me around.”

“I’m sorry.” Ask the bartender for another shot then hand it to her. “I guess we just thought you were busy with training.”

She’s training to become an idol. It’s been her dream since she was a kid, when you played in the slides and dropped from monkey bars. She’s always told you she was going to be big someday, and you never doubted that for a second. She even had a name she planned to use if she were to be a performer: Olivia Hye. You weren’t gonna lie, it had a nice ring to it. Not too bad for a name she made up after skimming through a baby name book from the bookstore.

“I dropped out,” she says simply, downing the shot like water.

“What?” you and Daniel ask together. Both of your voices sync with the shock, too. Neither of you could get why she did that. It’s been Hyeju’s dream to become an idol for so long. She couldn’t give that up just like that, but she did.

“Yep.” There’s pride in her voice. “The whole thing was a shithole. I already have Idalso to deal with. I’m not gonna put up with that, fuck no.”

Your heart aches for her dream. Idalso University really is blocking her from achieving it. She could be out there on the stage, maybe having found a better agency, singing and dancing her heart out. Instead, she has to choose one problem at the time and hence goes with college. She has her own parents to please, and because you have yours, you get it. You truly do.

As for Hyeju getting a problem off her mind, like that terrible agency, your spirits lift. You raise a glass and clink it with hers.

“To getting the hell out of this shithole,” you say; look at the girl you’ve lived for and loved with a smile, “and Son fucking Hyeju for doing it again.”

Your glasses meet. You’re somehow happy that it’s only two, yours and hers, that join. You can’t explain it for the life of you, but you like seeing Daniel become like a background character to it all. Just another extra in Hyeju’s show and yours. It’s cruel, especially when he’s been nothing but a good friend, but it is what it is.

“Tell you what,” Daniel says. “Let’s go to a noraebang tomorrow.”

She’s contemplative. “Isn’t the one near Idalso… like, expensive?”

“So what?” He shrugs. “You did it, Hyeju. You got out of that company thing. I’m done with my capstone and so is he with his thesis. I say we all have some fun. On me.”

Daniel has the privilege of not worrying about things being expensive or not. It’s the norm for him. You kind of want him to play Dorothy and put himself in your shoes, then make him go through what you did.

You know it isn’t fair and he’s just being kind. Still and all, your hatred rises.

“What now?” Daniel asks. “You guys in!”

“Of course!” Hyeju nods and claps her hands together. There’s a gummy smile on her face again. You’ve seen it on her many times, but you’ve also seen the sunset everyday—therefore, you’ll still be glad to catch a glimpse of it.

You guess since she’s in, you have to go, too. You say yes and that of course you’d love to go, and this time three glasses clink together prettily. Smiles are on each of your faces albeit yours is artificial.

"Could you act any less like a deadbeat dad?" Hyeju asks. She sits down on the stool beside you after Daniel leaves to get some air. Still feels like he's here when you feel like everyone's eyes are on you and her.

"I'm not doing anything." You say that because you aren't. You definitely aren't stirring a brew of jealousy inside you that poisons the maker, too. You're its creator yet the prophecy that was written tells that it'll turn against you, too. You’re Kronos, and it's an inevitable fate.

"Exactly. That's what deadbeat means." This matter-of-fact statement from her is followed by Hyeju stealing your shotglass out of your hand right before you drink it. "Seriously, dude. What's up with you?"

Oh, you don't know. Maybe her possibly being your crush? It's such an immature matter, but you haven't had a crush like this. The others were just sweet-faced and from afar. Those are the girls you dream of. To have a girl like Hyeju, the one you've known since forever, with a spunky personality but an opposing pretty face, the one who's been your ride-or-die—it's complicated.

What else could you say to her when the truth is something you'd rather she not hear?

"I'm fine, Hye."

"Are you? You look…" She thinks about it for a while as she studies your hair and poorly combined outfit choices. She slicks your blunt strands back and smiles teasingly. "...sleazy."

"Fuck y—"

"Shhh." She places a finger on your lips. The side of her thigh touches your lap. You're so close that any word you utter won't pass without hitting her. "It's okay. I like it."

You purse your lips. You didn't expect that. She's taken seats on your lap that were uninitiated by you and let you lift her in the air when you hug her. All that and her fingers in your hair are the most surprising.

"You're drunk," you say, although she’s only had a few shots.

Hyeju inches closer to you and holds your chin in place. "I'm sober as the next wolf, sweetie," she tells you. Her next words fail to show her hesitance. "And… and it just so happens that I really, really want to kiss you."

She's joking. She's playing around with your heart. You're not a virgin—you know what girls do. Hyeju doesn't strike you as the type to do that in spite of what’s going on, but you have to be careful. Your heart’s been bruised too many times already.

Careful isn't the word for it when you take the first step and lean in for a kiss. Maybe you're drunk yourself. Dizziness enchants your mind as Hyeju's dreamy lips perfectly pout to the shape of your mouth. Her eyes are closed. It's like she's in a restful dream.

You can’t believe you’re doing it. You’re kissing her. Passionately, too—there’s real determination in the way you hungrily lean forward to devour her lips.

The bar oohs and ahhs, then erupts into a crowd of applause. A few whistles come your way. You can feel Hyeju smile into your mouth.

Proclivities upon proclivities to keep her around you and only you couldn’t stop Monday from coming. You’ve only been to a noraebang once and that was with your family. It excites you to go to one again. However, you’d rather have only Hyeju to come, to be the exclusive member of the club that gets to hear her soft, pretty voice echo in the mic.

She’s really doing a number on you. Daniel’s your friend—sure, he might be out of touch with the local games and experiences, yet he’s still important to you. You can’t be mad at him over a girl who probably doesn’t even think the kiss at the bar was anything special. She hasn’t even talked about it with you and acts like it didn’t happen. Just another boy, just another day. That’s probably how you are to her.

Ouch. Way to go hurting yourself with your own made-up scenarios. As expected from you.

The three of you decide to cut classes. It’s not like you’re in high school anymore. Professors just don’t give a fuck, unless it’s miss Wong. She’s pretty and quiet at first. Then you have to wait to see her get angry—that’s when all hell breaks loose.

No hell on the loose today. Just three little demons from hell called Hyeju, Daniel and yourself down on the loose and down the road to the noraebang. Hyeju’s in a loose black jacket and a plain white tee. You somehow notice that more than Daniel who’s sporting a graphic shirt with swear words from every language printed on it. You don’t have much to say about your attire when it’s nothing special, not even compared to Hyeju, who’s wearing simple clothes like you.

“If a teacher sees us out here—” says Daniel nervously. He’s never rebelled before. The most he’s done is missing a class.

“No one will,” Hyeju promises him, opening the door of the place for the two of you though in your opinion it should be the other way around: you opening the door for her. What better way to show Hyeju that you could be a gentleman? Too late now. Plus, she doesn’t care much for that. That’s what keeps your excitement on a low burn. It takes more than opening a door and waiting around to impress Hyeju.

You sign your names at the front. Daniel picks a nice, wide room with a glass table perfect for chips and bottles. The bright screen already shows snippets of K-pop music videos, involving sweet-faced Korean girls waving at the camera and running along a beach. As boyish Hyeju is compared to other girls, you could definitely see her doing that for her passion of becoming an idol.

“What should we sing?” asks Hyeju, sitting down on the black plush seats comfortably. Her gummy smile is precious.

“Anything you want.” He slings an arm around her. His looped arm tugs her into a warm embrace. “Anything for the soon-to-be lawyer slash K-pop idol.”

Stiffen. Turn away and suddenly take good interest in the walls with a carved 3D effect. Much more interesting than whatever Daniel’s trying to pull on your best friend. Right, Hyeju’s your best friend. Nothing more. That kiss was a drunken mistake. You shouldn’t be getting angry. Besides, this noraebang was rented for you to have fun, not glower at Daniel doing nothing but be a good friend.

Hyeju laughs and leans into him gladly. “Stop, you’re gonna make me throw up!”

You feel out of place all of a sudden. Has she always been that affectionate with him? You thought that those touches and hugs were reserved for you only. Apparently not.

“Sing a song, Hye.” Your eyes don’t meet her gaze.

“They wanted me to debut with this song,” she says. The mic is shaky in her hand. “I—” She blushes. “I want to sing it for you.”

Sweetness infiltrates the air. It’s not of a scent or touch, but of hearing. It's Hyeju’s voice. It's smooth and soft as it passes through the empty atmosphere. No instrumental accompanies her voice, and you’re glad it’s that way. It allows you to marvel at Hyeju’s tone, quiet in spite of its sexiness.

And it takes that and several songs later, sung daringly by all of your trio, and jokes passed among friends that make you think about it. Really think about it. While Daniel and she sing their hearts out to the point of their voices cracking and laughs transforming into guffaws, you sit there and submerge yourself in thought.

You’ve seen Hyeju smile. It's pretty and sweet; her triangle-shaped mouth curls up into a half moon and it's everything you've ever wished for in life. No, fuck food. Fuck oxygen. All you need is her smile. It's cheesy as hell when you page through those types of quotes in those teenage romance books you probably shouldn't even be holding, but you swear that if Hyeju smiles for the rest of her life, it's enough for you to live. She just looks so pretty. Her resting bitch face, stone cold as the title of the expression suggests, is hot (yes, you're using that word), but when she chooses to smile—oh, you're as good as dead.

You don't like Son Hyeju though.

You’ve heard her sing in the noraebang room with her soft voice filling the vicinity. She doesn't sing much although she could. The day would come when she’d say "you know, I almost became an idol. I trained then dipped halfway,” and the pitched raspiness of her voice still would send you to heaven. It's a natural and beautiful thing, a trait she couldn't learn from the best vocal coach.

You don't like Son Hyeju though.

You’ve felt her hair when she leaned into your lap after laughing too much. "Stop, or I swear to god I will fuck your shit up," she told you, slapping your thigh after your terrible dad joke. You ran your fingers through her hair to calm her, but if anything it's an excuse to just touch her. You want to touch Hyeju, and not even in a sexual way. You just want your bodies closed up on each other with no awkwardness barriering the freedom to hold and be held.

And it’s not the kiss, but all these that make you stop your denial, and discover that you—

“—think I like Hye,” you whisper to Daniel when said girl leaves to get some beer. The flashing disco lights hanging from the ceiling can’t camouflage the red on your face.

Daniel laughs and puts down the mic. The bump on the crafted table sends a tinged pitch of feedback to your ears. “Everyone likes her. So?”

He’s right. Everyone likes Hyeju. Yeah, they like her through every name she’s taken up. She was the star of the school back in middle school when she went as Hyejoo, then the ice princess of high school as Olivia Hye, and finally… as herself now that she’s grown up with you, Son Hyeju. She’s become so many versions of herself and yet people still like the real her. You still know the real her.

“No,” is what you say, as you twiddle your fingers. You don’t know how to say this without causing an uproar. “I like Hyeju.”

He considers this for a moment, weighing in your words. “Like as in… like like?”

A nervous swallow. Is Daniel the right person to tell this ? “Like like,” you reply nevertheless.

Daniel locks his chin between his rough fingers and strokes it thoughtfully. His face is clouded with a feeling you can’t read. “Well, a lot of people do, too. And they wouldn’t blame you for it. She’s—” He looks down at his shoes then back at the noraebang screen. “She’s a pretty girl.”

The understatement of the century. Hyeju’s face was carved with such beauty—curved, pyramid lips; slanted eyes; a cold look that you, unlike people when asked about their first impression of her, weren’t scared of—and she’s just so… easy to love.

Yes, Son Hyeju is easy to love. Everyone loves her, but she can only ever reciprocate it in a different way to one man. Woman, perhaps? Anything goes, but you'd rather she gives it to you.

You're a selfish person, you admit that. More so when it comes to her.

"Let's get this party started!" she says. You don't intend to flinch yet you end up doing it anyway when she sits down next to you and hands you canned alcohol.

"There's only three of us, Hye," Daniel points out. The rounded metal springs up from the can and he gulps down a hefty amount of the spiked liquid.

"Three's a crowd. Especially when it's with you guys."

"So you're saying we're too much?" Match her sass with hidden bits of your own. You're only trying to make it seem like your heart doesn't beg to be held close to hers.

"Too much is just enough for me."

Hyeju drops both of her arms around you and your other friend and ruffles your hair. It's sweet. It should be. It’s exactly that which makes you fail to understand why your heart feels squeezed. Why is she also hugging Daniel in the same manner she hugs you?

The kiss at the bar means nothing. The kiss at the bar means nothing. You have to stop thinking that it means there's a ring on your finger already.

You rise from the sofa to purchase chips because you’re starving, but not for healthy food. You wouldn’t dream of eating a salad when there’s junk food in your general vicinity, and it just so happens that there’s a vending machine you’ve got your eye on at the counter. Soon, a rainbow of plastic bags fills your arms. What they contain would work well to repay your debt with Hyeju. Daniel can eat these without worrying about money. He’s been a good friend. He deserves chips after the evil you’ve thought about him.

"I bought chips—"

Daniel is pushing Hyeju to the end of the sofa and has his lips locked on hers. His hands are in her hair. Her eyes are shut. You can hear the sloppy sounds of kissing bouncing off the noraebang walls. The instrumental from the radio is the cherry on top of everything.

Does this kiss guarantee a ring?

"Wow," you say. Nod then laugh, as if doing it would make your situation better. “Wow.”

Hyeju turns her head and scrambles for broken dignity. It's too late. You've already seen it. Daniel doesn't even bother running after you when she bursts out of the room to chase you. You're immovable—each step is a promise to take you far away. You trust that promise to skewer you away from Son Hyeju, Son fucking Hyeju who led you on and played with your heart.

"Hey.” Her steps catch up with yours. Walk faster, but she only draws closer. You can’t escape from her now. “Hey!”

"What?" Turn to her, heavy breathing lining your shoulders. You stare into her small face and silently dare her to make an excuse.

To your surprise and her audacity, she does. "It's not what it looks like!" she says, swallowing. How could she be the one near tears when she's the one who kissed him? "Let me explain—"

"I know what I saw."

"Well, you don't see the bigger picture. He sm—"

"—smart? Funny? Rich?" Laugh and shake your head. Your laughs sound more and more genuine. You've gone a little sick in the head. "Yeah, I know. But hey, we're not supposed to be anything, right? Why am I mad? It's not like our kiss meant anything."

"Please, oppa. Listen to me."

"No, go sing together,” you say, then thrust the junk food you bought in her arms. “I’m sure you’re better off with him.”

Mean it. Turn away. Don't bother to look at her when you know she'll go crawling back to Daniel. He's totally her type. He's everything, you're nothing. He's smart, you're not. He loves her more, and you do—just not enough. Now you understand why they were so touchy and close in the room.

Anger is irrational when it was just a kiss. The two of you weren't official, either. If you weren't before, you sure as hell aren't now. It's just not meant to be.

She likes Daniel, not you. And even though you want to be, you aren't supposed to be angry at Hyeju. She was swept into a high school love triangle that happened a little later in her life, and ultimately chose the better guy. No need to drop names. The kiss was enough for you to know which man she chose.

Besides, you don't love Son Hyeju anyway. Isn't that what you've always told yourself? That's right. You don't love her.

Denial is a river flowing down your cheek.

The dorm becomes a cemetery of the living dead. You and Hyeju have not spoken to each other for three months. She stops waking you up for class, and you do the same. The place is notably cleaner after the two of you rely only on yourself to tidy up. Lost are the sarcasm, friendly touches, teasing arguments. It’s like the two of you never knew each other.

It’s through this that you discover that you have to be careful what you wish for. You always thought about Daniel putting himself in your place, and it happened. Ever since the kiss, Hyeju’s been chattier with him, and he pulls her close the way you used to, and she smiles at him like she used to at you, except that it’s wider now. They’re together. Officially together; you’ve seen their Instagram posts.

Moreover, she’s happier than ever, flourishing without you.

And you? You’re still stuck in that noraebang, replaying that fateful kiss over and over in your head. Each time you close your eyes you see Hyeju and Daniel in a passionate liplock. It’s the kiss that ruined what you had with Hyeju and has made your quality of life deteriorate. You didn’t know that Hyeju makes up almost every part of your day. Mornings are empty without your stroll with her. Post-exam nights aren’t as fun when she’s not there to bring drinks. Afternoons are lonely when she’s always out with Daniel.

You hate the fucker. He knew you liked Hyeju. You’ve told him about it right before the thing he did with her even happened, so it’s impossible that he’d forget. Besides, like he said, the two of you are always together. He surely would have picked up the signs. Unfortunately, he whisked her away just like that.

You dislike to feel like the scheming guy in coming-of-age films who doesn’t get the girl, but it’s the perfect portrayal of your emotions.

Wake up for class. She does, too. You have the decency to not gawk at how good she looks even in a casual tank top and plaid shorts, but she doesn’t even try to hide that she’s staring at you. Just not for the same reason, you assume. You’re just her boy best friend. With the way things are, you aren’t even a friend to her anymore.

You smear cheese onto a soft slice of bread. Still, her eyes are on you. From the corner of what takes up your vision, you could tell that she’s trying to figure out how to make this less awkward. You’d think that an eternity’s worth of effectively giving each other the cold shoulder would make her learn how to do it. She’s a smart girl anyway. She should have figured that out.

“You know… you can’t just keep ignoring me.”

Freeze—it’s the first time she’s spoken to you in a while. And you weren’t prepared for that. It’s like someone threw a punch in your stomach, but it’s also a breath of fresh air. How those two feelings could converge into each other you don’t know.

“So stop it, will you?” she continues. She swings her legs out of the duvet and places her hands snug on the edge of her bed. “Stop treating me like I’m a…”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m your fucking ex,” Hyeju snarls. The duvet crumples in her fist.

Scoff. Fold the bread slice tight onto the other squared end. Talk about a good morning. “Ex? We were never a thing, Hye… ju.”

Right, it isn’t like that anymore. You can’t call her Hye like the old times.

The hurt that registers on her face, still pretty in the midst of pain, comes by so fast it would take a magnifying glass to see it clearly. Now she’s the one scoffing. She recovers quickly from the stifled nickname so well that you never would have guessed you disarmed her. “That’s the thing. You’re right—we weren’t boyfriend-girlfriend. So why are you acting like I’m a ghost?”

“I wonder why,” you say. “Couldn’t be because you kissed me then decided to kiss another guy while I was away. Nope, totally out of the question.”

What happened? It seems like just yesterday the two of you were throwing insults and playfully quarreling with each other like it’s natural. This is a real disagreement here. This can’t be resolved with a smile or hug. You and Hyeju aren’t like that anymore. It’s a thing of the past.

Just like your friendship.

“If you’d just let me explain—”

“You know what? I don’t have time for this. Go with Daniel to class. Have a good life with him. Just call me if you get lost.”

Don’t even try to take a bite out of your cheese sandwich. You leave it on the table. Later, it’ll become stale and cold, similar to your friendship with Hyeju, or whatever kind of fucked up relationship you have.

You storm out of the dorm. You’re glad to get out—you’re already worried about the test later and the night class with miss Wong. Don’t need a situationship to take up your mind either.

The day passes like a car on a rocky, jagged road. It’s difficult to muster a smile to the freshmen the moment you come in to help miss Jeong teach, or work on your test when that argument with her fills your mind rather than equations you should have memorized. The whole day is torture, and you don’t dare wish it on anyone. Not even that asshole Daniel

“What’s up with you today?” people ask you. “You sure you’re alright?” “Where’s Hyeju?”

You don’t answer.

When the night comes, it’s relief for your sore mind and body. That test beat you up and the sun was too cruel to your skin. Even if night classes could last till the brink of dawn, you don’t mind. Take comfort in the fact that it’s only a discussion and nothing more.

Barely listen though. Two a.m. creeps by and you haven’t taken in a thing. Usually miss Wong would have you focused, keeping in mind that she’s strict and merciless, but you’re too tired today. Your bones ache though you didn’t do much walking. They’re only symptoms of heartbreak.

You don’t want to see a doctor. In fact, you want to get worse.

Miss Wong looks up at the clock. “Is it alright if I extend for just five minutes?” she asks. Her pencil skirt struggles to contain her strides on the platform.

A chorus of mixed responses echo in the classroom. Others, the top students in particular who participate in every club you could name, say it’s fine. Some already have excuses to make: they need to work on homework; they have other classes to go to; every excuse existing. You don’t know which side you’re on—you don’t want to come home to another angry night with Hyeju, and at the same time, you can’t be assed to stay.

Then—

Ringing. It’s all you hear. Your classmates’ voices drown out in it. It’s supposed to be soft, but it isn’t anymore when everyone shuts their mouth in alarm. Look here, look there. You don’t know where it’s coming from.

Your hint is the light in your pocket. Fish it out. It’s coming from your phone.

“I thought I told you guys to put your cellphones on mute during class,” Wong says, sighing. Her glare shoots you a warning.

Okay, you’d say sorry to her and put your phone away. Drop the call. Anything. But the first thing you do is wonder:

Why the fuck is Son Hyeju calling you?

Aside from all the tension between you, your natural instinct is to answer. Your next is to ask her, “Hye?”

“Oppa…” comes her voice from your speaker.

Before you could wonder why she’s calling, you notice that Hyeju’s voice is… lonely. Yes, lonely. That’s the word you’d use right away if you’re asked to describe it. No, it can’t be just that. It’s mixed with something else. It’s higher, a little more groggy.

Forget that you were fighting. Forget that she kissed Daniel and broke your heart. She wouldn’t call if it isn’t something even her pride can’t protect. “Hyeju? What’s wrong?”

“I’m lost.”

Those are the two words she utters before breaking into sobs. You’ve never heard or seen Hyeju cry. She likes to treat problems with anger rather than sadness, slicing away at every conflict with groans and cursing professors for low grades. If she’s crying, it must mean something’s wrong. Something’s very, very wrong.

You’re keenly aware that all eyes and ears are monitoring your moves, but you don’t care. You rise from your seat and start gathering your laptop into your bag. You forget about your notes. Fuck them. Hyeju comes first.

“Where did you go, Hye?” Walk out of the class. If miss Wong has a problem with that, she can tell you about it tomorrow.

Sniffles on her end. Her quiet, low cries break your heart. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I need you, oppa. I have… I have nobody else. Please come and get me.”

“Hyeju—”

“Please,” she whispers. Her voice lowers to a whine. “I’m alone. I’m so alone.”

Tears itch at the bottoms of your eyes. You have to come and get her. Need to forget the fight and silent treatment that ensued. All that means nothing if Hyeju’s in need of your help.

Where the fuck are your keys? Remove them from the loop of your jeans and click the button. In the driveway, your car’s headlights shine. Yep, there it is. You once regretted buying a secondhand car like that. Now that it can get you to Hyeju, you vow to take care of it for life. You’d spend thousands to repair it if it breaks down.

But right now, it’s Hyeju who’s breaking down. She’s all alone somewhere and she needs you. In a way, you need her, too. She’s the one who’s braver to admit it.

You’ve never driven faster in your entire life. All the while you stay on the line with Hyeju. Your grip on the wheel tightens whenever she lets out a hopeless little sob. She’s crying so hard that you want to roll into a ball in the corner and cry, too. You can’t do that. You have to be the stronger one, the one who comes to her like she’s done for you and tells her that everything’s going to be alright.

You make no promises.

Eventually you coax a location out of her and break several speed limits. Ignore the cops that yell at you. They can all go and fuck off. Hyeju needs you. You’re her best friend. It’s what friends do.

“Motherfucker,” you curse, upon seeing that the location she led you to was a club. It’s hidden in the corner of a creepy alley. “Hyeju, are you drunk?”

“Nooooo…” she drawls, giggling through her tears. “Your voice is so nice, oppa. It really makes me feel better. Did’ya know that?”

No time to be flattered. You burst into the club and find her in the midst of flashing lights and crowds of bodies. Your ears ring because of the music. Whose idea was it to hire this DJ? He thinks he’s doing such a good job, too.

Hyeju’s in the center of it all. Her black coat is too big for her, but so is the crowd. When it moves, it drags her along by the toes. She’s… smiling? Wasn’t she crying on the phone just minutes earlier? Maybe she drank more. This can’t be good.

“Hyeju!” Start walking faster.

She sticks her tongue out at you and starts to sprint upon seeing you get close.

You have no time for games. This isn’t even in the least bit funny. What if someone spiked her drink? What if that was the reason she’s acting funny? Worse: what if someone’s planning to take advantage of her? All these concerns bump into each other in your head as you run after her.

A couple of “excuse me”s and “sorry!”s after you quickly squeeze in between dancing people. Drinks spilled on the floor. Anger from two dolled up ladies. (A look to your right and… yep, not only from them.) Disapproval from the DJ who even calls you out. Boos from the crowd. You don’t care about them. You only care about getting Hyeju to safety. She can’t be here in her vulnerable state.

Before she could dash out from your line of vision, you grab her wrist. Seal your grip around it tightly so she can’t escape. “Son Hyeju,” you say, glaring at her. Ever since she stopped crying, she started to play around. This isn’t a game but to her it is. A fun game, to be more precise. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Oooh, you caught…” She burps. Playful giggles spill from her mouth. “... me!” Hyeju gives you a drunken smile and claps for you regardless of her right hand being held into position.

“Why are you here?”

“Why are you here? See? I can ask stupid q-questions, too!”

You whisk her away from the ongoing party and into the cold night air. You’re about to throw your jacket on her when you see that she’s wearing one, too.

People are starting to stare. Pray that no one intervenes, even if they have good intentions. After all, you’re a man with a woman under the influence. They have every right to be concerned, but you hope that just for now they know you wouldn’t dare hurt Hyeju.

The wind blows a breeze that almost knocks you to the floor. You draw Hyeju to yourself to warm her. You can’t risk her catching a cold.

”Let me go, oppa!” Hyeju’s mood goes from sad to drunkenly cheerful to pained. She forces her wrist out from your fist harshly. Your arms no longer wrap her. “You don’t like me anymore, right? And I have a boyfriend!”

Capture her hand again. She can’t escape and run away a second time. You’ve done that too much to know that it’ll send her down into a dizzying spiral. You’re cowards, the both of you—that’s why you flee whenever a problem arises. You don’t know how to deal with it.

That changes now. Get in your vehicle. Pull her in, too. “For your information,” you say, locking her seatbelt in place, “you called me. You asked me to pick you up.”

The car roars to life and speeds down the road. The night barely provides light for you to move along. It’s beautiful nevertheless. Stars peek out from the depths of black. The moon is dim yet reassuring. What fate does it have in store for you? Would you accept it if you knew? How could they all look so serene while you have your drunk crush next to you starting an argument?

“And you’d loooove not to do it, wouldn’t you?” Hyeju’s words suggest that she’s no longer that drunk but the way her words come out like jumbled words in a newspaper crossword tell you otherwise. She leans against the door and crosses her arms. “It was a mistake to call you. You, you fucking hate me.”

Does she really believe that? You may hate Daniel, but you never once hated Hyeju. You’ve only had wistful feelings for her even after she kissed him. You still checked up on her socials and watched her as she ate lunch with him. You remained loyal to her, like a dog following its owner through scoldings.

Yeah, you really are just her dog.

“I don’t hate you, Hye,” you say with conviction. You’re determined to make her believe that. It’s difficult when you’ve never been the type to be good with words.

“Yes, you do! You wouldn’t even let me explain why I kissed Daniel!”

“For fuck’s sake, I was hurt! I didn’t know what to do!”

“Then hear me out for once!”

“Alright.” Your hands slap the wheel, unintentionally bumping the horn and causing Hyeju to cringe. “Go on. Tell me what happened.”

“He was the one who kissed me, the fucking idiot! He kissed me out of the blue and wouldn’t stop!”

Wait.

What?

Daniel, your friend and Hyeju’s, initiated the kiss? Hyeju didn’t want it to happen?

If only you knew, you would have beaten up Daniel a long time ago.

You can’t even speak. You had it all wrong. You can’t believe there was an explanation for everything and you refused to hear it.

Hyeju begins to sob again. Her words circle in the air like an incantation. It’s equally because of the alcohol and her emotions. “I was… talking to him about my training, but then he kissed me.” She wipes her face and laughs humorlessly. “He started making out with me and, a-and I didn’t know how to stop it. It was like I was frozen.”

“You… you didn’t kiss him?” Your tone is broken and incredulous. “He made you do it?”

She looks almost offended. “Why? Why would I ever kiss that bastard?”

“But you’re dating him.”

“I am,” says Hyeju, hands in her hair, “Hah, okay. I'm dating him, yeah, but that’s just because I thought you didn’t like me. I only want one person in the world, and it isn’t Daniel Smith.”

“Hyeju—”

“It’s you, you clueless little shit!” She punches your shoulder and muffles her face into your car pillow. Her next scream is elongated, filled with frustration. When she lifts her face from the pillow, her eyeliner and blush are smeared and wet with teardrops. “It’s you, and I only want you!”

In vino veritas.

The confession is as out of the blue as Daniel’s kiss was. You’re in a state of shock and disbelief—too much information is coming into your brain. You want to punch Daniel in the face for shocking her with an unwanted move. You want to hug Hyeju. You want to tell her that you’re sorry for not hearing her side of the story.

Most importantly, you want to tell her that you want her, too.

It’s too late now. She’s seen you disregard her voice and choose to have a one-track mind. There’s no way she wants you anymore.

“Why the fuck would you ever want me, Hyeju?”

“Because!” She lets out a shivering little sigh. “You don’t treat me like… hlk, like I’m a trophy to show off. You’re my friend. You know how to be mean but you take care of me even if I’m too moody sometimes. Even if I don’t want to come along with you outside because I’m scared I’ll make myself look stupid in front of you. Even if… even if I love too hard but don’t show that I love you most and that sometimes you take care of me more than my dad does and I know it’s wrong to see you that way when I’m with him now but I really want you to take care of me but still kiss me too if I need it and be okay with me calling you names like ‘daddy’ and still being your best friend besides being my boyfriend… but I know it can’t happen anymore and I ruined everything—”

“Hyeju.”

More tears flow down her face. “—and I know you won’t ever love me the same again but I’ll regret forever, long after we graduate, that I never showed that I loved you, that I was a coward—”

“Hyeju,” you say, gently. Pull over at the university parking lot. You have your finger on her mouth, sealing them to stop her droning. She pauses. She doesn’t do it without breaking down. “Please. Don’t tell me you don’t know it. It’s been happening under your nose every single day.”

“What?” she murmurs, eyes glassy as they connect with yours.

“I like you, too.”

Silence. Several beats go by. They’re too lengthy to be fake. The next nuance confirms that:

Talk about relief. Talk about passion. As if she’s forgetting that a sudden kiss was what opened Pandora’s box, Hyeju grabs your face and does exactly that. Again, it has too many things to it that blocks it from being faux. The unique shape of her lips mold onto yours, as if your lips were made to kiss each other all the time. It’s back to the café again, wherein she does something and you subconsciously follow along. Your hands are on her phenomenal waist. And soon you’re unbuckling her seatbelt so she could sit safely on your lap, where she’s supposed to be. Where she belongs.

She drops her touch to your shoulders. She massages them, and you groan delightfully. Now it’s your turn to hold her face and lean in closer. Hyeju’s mouth tastes of sweetness and alcohol. You don’t know how those two tastes could mix together. Hyeju makes it work.

“Oppa, daddy,” she whimpers. She pulls away. The distance is still close to nothing. “Daddy, I love you.”

It’s a sudden nickname, still detached from when she uses it with you jokingly, yet there’s no hesitance here. You know your truth. “I love you, too, Hyeju.”

“Will you take me to bed?” She starts grinding down on your shaft needily. “Please say you will, daddy. Please say you’ll make me happy.”

“You’re drunk. I… I don’t know if I should.”

“‘m not. Maybe. But I’ve wanted it to happen for a long time,” Hyeju says. “I won’t mind, I promise.”

She couldn’t get any more sober with that. So you do what any man would do if they were called daddy by Son Hyeju: lift her out of your car, not caring to check twice if it’s locked, and bring her to bed. Take her coat off—she won’t need it if you’ll make her warm from the inside and out.

Her arms round your neck and her face is buried in your chest. Her words come out in a desperate, needy tone that you haven’t heard from her since the day you met. Who exactly were you to make her this small?

Her daddy, of course.

See, as tough as Hyeju makes herself out to be, she’s still needy. She still has her own problems that haven’t let go of her now that she’s older, like the daddy thing. You only fully understand it now when you lay her on the bed and continue kissing her. Hard. Her moans call out for you. They aren’t merely things to whine if it feels good. It’s not even a matter of want anymore; her shivers and cries indicate of her carnal need for you to do what you will with her.

“Don’t be scared,” she tells you, closing her eyes as you kiss her perfect jawline. “You wanted me for so long, right? Well, I did, too. Do what you want to me. Fuck me, daddy.”

“You talk extremely dirty for someone who’s drunk,” you chuckle.

“Not so drunk anymore. You make me sober.”

“Sweet talker. You’re all bark and no bite.”

Hyeju has no retort to make. Your lips on her gorgeous nipple render her speechless. The cute pink nub is hard, and grows harder at your loving suckles. Her breasts are the perfect size for squeezing. Relish in that fact by squeezing her left breast while dedicating more of your attention to the other, making her become sensitive with each action.

You’d say you have bite, for you do so lightly on her breast. She gasps. “Daddy!” she cries out.

“Fuck, don’t say it like that.” Your cock throbs already. It’s the same feeling you get all those times before, the times you’d get into an argument with Hyeju and she’d call you that.

“What? It’s not my fault you can’t handle me,” she says wittily.

“Don’t try me.”

“What?” She cocks a brow. “Hit too close to home?”

You have to shut her bratty self up. Tug her pants off, sliding them off her silky legs. Her pink panties are a hint to the gentle color of her pussy. Find out about them anyway—push the underwear aside and shove three fingers in her.

“Oh shit.” Hyeju’s squeeze on your digits is instant, like an impulsive reaction.

Think about if Daniel has done this to her before and pick up the pace. You’re fingering her like the walls of her soaked pussy would banish him and let you have her all to yourself. “Son Hyeju,” you growl, “shut the fuck up.”

“W-won’t—ah!”

If you don’t make her quiet, you’ll at least reduce her words to pathetic moans. You’d say you’re successful. Your rapid thrusts send Hyeju’s screams paralleling the night wind with their strength.

You’re surprised again and again at how loud she could get. She’s always so quiet except for the occasional sarcastic remark. She can make no more of those if faced with the relentless fingering you do unto her pussy. They draw out strings of dampness when they withdraw, and fill her right to the knuckles when you go back in. Her hips squirm and you have to place a hand on her thigh to continue.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy!” she screams. Her mouth is open while she sits up to look at what you’re doing to her vulnerable cunt. “It feels so fucking good, don’t stop!”

She looks beautiful. Her shirt is lifted above her breasts, making them bounce madly due to the timing and force of your thrusts. Her eyes could never be more watchful. She can’t believe she actually has you between her legs and fingering her to orgasm.

“Got any comeback for me, Hye?” you ask smugly.

Hyeju nods. Her lips are parted again. Although you haven’t had sex with her except for now, you know what that dropped jaw means: she’s close.

Her walls are impossible to part completely. She’s too damn tight that you bet she’d still be so with one finger. The grip of her slippery, wet cunt is like no other. You reach deep into it and stroke out till you find the place. That’s how Hyeju starts to shiver. She can’t manage it.

“Oh, yeah? What do you have to say now, sweet?” Wrap your lips around her nipple. It’s another one of your unfair advantages over her.

“I-I-I—I can’t!”

The recoil of Hyeju’s tits is amazing. Harshly squeeze the boob you’ve relatively neglected to make sure she can’t get a word out of those pretty lips. Take a further step and smack it, too. She moans in satisfaction. Your harsh squeezes imprint a replica of your hand on her pale skin.

Of course, you don’t forget to keep your fingers going. You change techniques now and then, switching from gentle circling to rapid fire shoving. Whether it’s one or the other, Hyeju’s fuckhole swallows you up. She doesn’t mind which or what; she needs your harshness the most. It’s what counts as a whole.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum! Please make me cum on your fingers, make your babygirl cum… oh—oh, fuck!”

Combined with your thumb nudging her small clit and your digits absolutely destroying her tightness, Hyeju does the unthinkable: she squirts on your hand and on your bed. Liquid gushes on your shirt; it’s so consistent and clear that a new determination is founded within you. It’s to make your unbearably hot best friend cum like she never has.

For the record, it’s the first time you’ve made a girl squirt. You didn’t expect that it would be this satisfying. Seeing Hyeju’s blissful face and the shake of her beautiful legs make your efforts worth it. Watching yourself do it to your best friend and make her feisty, boyish self let out screams and pleas brings increased triumph.

“No, oh god, it’s too much!” Hyeju says this but her legs part more. Her head is tossed back and her moans don’t stop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t—daddy!”

“Messy little brat.” Rub away at her clit. Feel the spurt of her cum hit your finger. “That’s it, cum for daddy. Keep those pretty thighs open.”

Hyeju mewls at the mixture of degradation and moans. If Daniel had said that to her, she probably would have thrown up in a bucket. When it’s you, on the other hand, everything changes. She wants you to call her every harsh name out there and accompany it with sides of praise. She’ll only feel this good when she’s with you.

Hyeju is anything but obedient. Things change here in the dorm, where her pussy is spread and prone to your touch. Her midriff, soft yet slender, rises over and over. The hose of her wet orgasms still hasn’t stopped.

“Goddammit, you’re squirting so much. Am I that good, hm, Hyeju? Is daddy that good to his pretty little girl?”

“Mmm, mmm, don't— no more, daddy, no more!” Hyeju’s core is already spent, and you haven’t even put your cock in her yet.

Stop. Not before you leave a kiss to the sensitive bundle of nerves that you abused. It’s a mark now, something invisible that subtly says to everyone that you got to fuck her. You got to fuck Son Hyeju. You made her cum like never before.

Spit on Hyeju’s center then spread it to her lips and nub. She moans. “You’re so wet, Hye.”

“Whatever.” She’s blushing. “I’ve had better.”

You have to say you’re a little provoked. You know it’s false seeing the smug look on her face and after making her squirt, but who exactly has done her better? Daniel? Definitely not him. The possibility still does well to spur you to jealousy.

“Oh,” you say, smiling tightly, “so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Hyeju gasps happily when she’s pushed to the wall and on her knees. It’s reminiscent of how Daniel did exactly that: pinning her to the wall before kissing her. Your anger brews into a fire just thinking about him.

“Yeah. What’re you gonna do about it?”

Unbuckle your belt. Your jeans join it on the floor as well as your briefs. “I’m gonna clean that dirty mouth of yours.”

“And how are you gonna do that, daddy?” Hyeju pretends not to know what’s coming.

It’s your belief that actions speak louder than words. That’s why when you place your cock in between Hyeju’s lips, it resonates inside her more than your promise to purify her mouth. Logic fails here when dirty sins can’t remove Hyeju’s dirty words. One wrong and another doesn’t make a right. Oh, who cares? This isn’t a class. This isn’t your thesis. You focus only on feeling the softness of her triangular mouth, the wetness of the back of her throat.

Holding your cock by the base, you lead its tip into rubbing every corner of Hyeju’s mouth. Her cheeks make an outline of your girth as you press your head against them. Her jaw becomes slack after you press your dick down to her tongue. You’re technically doing all the work here because you’re fucking her face, but you’d argue that Hyeju contributes just as much with her tearful eyes that are more puppy than wolf.

The shape of her wet orifice leaves ample space for you to rub against everything. Your tip draws a triangle on her lips right before slipping inside. There you keep your word and clean her dirty mouth. Push those naughty words down her throat with immediate thrusts. That way, she can only moan, nothing else. No sass can be heard from her now.

“You’re such a bad girl, Hyeju,” you say. Curl your hand ‘round her messy hair and direct it downwards. She groans, her mouth now upright for yout fuck easier into. “You shouldn’t like having your mouth used like this. You shouldn’t be on your knees for your best friend when your boyfriend’s waiting for you at home.”

Hyeju knows you’re right. She shouldn’t. She isn’t supposed to enjoy having her throat rammed and spread. She shouldn’t be cheating on the man she claims to love. It’s a mistake of hers to be here anyway, underneath another man.

Her second mistake is to like everything the way it is..

Her third is to tongue your shaft like she would a sweet treat. She wants to taste all of you, from your thick tip to the base. She’s not had much to work on with Daniel, but she knew it would be a good time when you sprung out your cock. She makes this worth it—she seals her lips at your base, her nose pressed firmly at the bottom of your tummy, then produces such a harsh suction that the grip you have in her black locks of messy hair tightens. A curse is what you let out besides precum.

“Fuck,” you say. Pull her head closer. Aggressive thrusts fire away. “Didn’t know your pouty little lips could suck dick so well. I bet it’s bulging your throat. Is daddy right about that?”

She tries to nod. Her gags stop her intended action; your thrusts have sped up and are now destroying her tight throat. No space is left for her to breathe when her mouth is stuffed with your length. Even her nostrils can’t take in much air if her nose is pressed that tightly to your stomach.

Place a hand on the wall in order for there to be no aches for her head when you thrust wildly. “You know, I changed my mind. Maybe you’re a good girl, especially with that face. Go on, touch yourself. I know you want to.”

Permission is granted by her daddy. Hyeju gives a cry in response then leads her hand between her legs. Letting you fuck her face has made her wet beyond imagination. She doesn’t need to press directly on her pussy when there’s slick all over her thighs. She gathers them all up and places them back in her pussy. She moans as she swirls her digits inside her. Here’s how it works: she has one hand masturbating, and the other on your thigh to caress it and at the same time keep her balance.

Take note of that. “You’re a smart girl, Hyeju. Smart girls shouldn’t be letting their faces get fucked. We can’t have that happen, right?”

You say that yet your actions tell a different story. Your violent pumps into Hyeju’s mouth to use it to the limits are endless. Hyeju’s moaning. She enjoys it more than she should. Of course, you jam those moans, as pretty as they are, down her throat.

Slap your cock on her lips.

“You know what I mean.”

Slip the whole of your length out then in again. Make her brush those luscious lips against every inch.

“We really, really can’t have that happen.”

Caress her cheek. Her eyes are awaiting and obedient. Look down into them and almost feel bad for ruining her, your best friend.

“Daniel might walk in anytime. He’ll be looking for you.”

Your movements are cruel as time goes by. You shouldn’t be treating your best friend like this. You shouldn’t even be having sex with her. All of these ought to stop you in your tracks—you don’t.

“And what will he say when he sees his precious girlfriend on her knees for his best friend?”

Hyeju begins to whine. She doesn’t want him to walk in; she’s enjoying this too much. What she doesn’t want to happen even more is for you not to blow your load inside her warm throat. People can’t have what they want all the time, but she swears she won’t want anything else if you just give her what she wants. That’s for you to absolutely use her. Be cruel to her and it wouldn’t sting.

“He’ll start to think how better you are with me. You’re a bad girl, Hyeju. You know that and you still want me.”

You’re right in every way. She is better with you. You just fuck her better, treat her better, kiss her better. She can’t kiss better the wound she’ll leave in Daniel if he just so happens to walk in. Maybe she could, but she’d put salt on it when he discovers how good you make her feel. It isn’t fair to anybody. To you, the one she accidentally hurt; to Daniel, who was the one (no, make that the two with how he was her last resort and how she gave him false hope); to her, who can’t go without you.

“Let go.”

Nine.

It takes exactly nine strokes in between her folds for her to cum. Drool sheens your girth. Some even drip from her mouth. It’s like she’s in heat; she’s whining as she tries to cum and suck you off at the same time. Hyeju ends up sucking your shaft with desperation, legs quivering and threatening to give away.

“Cum with me, Hyeju,” you command her. Pull out, rather regretfully, but take comfort with how pretty she’d look covered in your cum. Your hand wraps around you and jerks you off. Although it can’t match Hyeju’s mouth or her ass, it’ll do well in shooting your load on her.

Your best friend keeps calling your name squeezed between “daddy”s as she fingers herself to orgasm. She collapses pathetically on the floor, in a pool of sweat and cum. Her shirt and the floor of your shared dorm room are stained. No need to wonder where those white stains come from; the only suspects are you and Hyeju. It’s a partnered crime for her squirt comes out at such a velocity that it rivals your cumshots.

“Take my load, Hyeju, fuck!”

If there’s anything Hyeju isn’t, it’s submissive. It somehow changes when she nods and opens her mouth. You’re introduced to a whole new side of her. Her post-orgasm face is one you hope to admire everyday. Look at the expressions she makes when her eyes are crossed and her tongue is out for you and you have difficulty choosing between the two.

You and Hyeju exchange a tired look. If you’re to be specific, a look is how everything starts. You became friends with her because she was staring at you too long a time in class. You quickly reunited with her in college when you looked to your back to see to whom the familiar voice belonged. It took one quick glance to see that Daniel had kissed her in the noraebang.

Similarly, a look is what causes you to shamelessly throw Hyeju on the bed again. By now her limbs curl into yours like this were a completely natural thing that happened between you, as if she were always being fucked and manhandled like this. Your kisses now are more aggressive, too. They aren’t nervous like earlier, when you still weren't sure if doing this was right. Hyeju responds by engaging in a battle for dominance, pushing forward and pulling the forces connecting you.

You win in the end.

Slam her back down to the mattress. Her anticipation is written clearly in her eyes. “I’m going to ruin you, Son Hyeju,” you say.

She laughs in your face. “Bet.”

Alright. You’ll show her. It’s a friendly bet you’ll take all seriousness in.

Align your dick with her waiting cunt. You shed all attempts to tease her or dive into foreplay. What she needs is your cock inside her, rearranging her insides. If that’s so, you’ll give it to her.

“Oh!” Hyeju gasps. Her pretty eyes are big above her hands covering her face. She never guessed you would feel this good inside her. “You’re so fucking big, daddy. It's, it’s better than I imagined, fffuck.”

Steer all your weight into this thrust specifically. Your tip makes contact with her G-spot and sends her legs shaking. Send her a couple inches further on the mattress. Her godly tits begin another round of bouncing. There’s no other routine you’d love to watch.

Already you've put your hands on her hips. They’re to pull her closer if she gets lost. Again. You have to make sure you won’t lose her this time. This chance was given to you for a reason. You have to keep her here, show her all the love you’ve kept bottled up all these years.

Hyeju squirms a lot. That’s what your grip is for. It’s to keep her on the bed so she can easily receive your pumps. And what a good job she does at receiving them—Hyeju’s hips shiver as they’re subjected to a force her sensitive pussy can’t handle. She’s always going into things she can’t handle. This is no different. Time with Daniel was okay, but you’re a different story. You ensure that she’s always filled to the hilt until she’s bottoming out.

Deeper and deeper you go. Your cock knocks up into her tummy. You curse; it’s hotter than it’s supposed to be. Something as simple as that shouldn’t be so arousing.

“Oh, you like that? You… you like seeing your big cock stuffing my little pussy?” asks Hyeju. Her teeth are parted to let in air she so desperately needs to formulate these words. She knows they’ll turn you on. “I know you do, daddy. Look at your meat ruining my insides. You’re going to cum so much inside me. And I’ll take it all. I’m a good girl. I’ll show you I’m a good girl.”

She leads your hand to her throat and closes your digits around it. Get the message. Squeeze there tight. Her strangled gasp is everything.

“You are, huh?” you say. Your composure is long gone. “Are you always this tight, Hyeju? Are you always this good? Or is it just for daddy?”

There’s something incredibly hot in the way Hyeju gushes and screams for you. Her nipples stand in the air, aroused by the quick penetrating done to her pussy. It seems almost impossible for her to be this wet. Each push of your hips brings forth a gush of wetness that wets the sheets and your joined crotches. Bring out your cock for a second to quickly flick its tip on her clit.

Hyeju gropes her own chest with closed eyes. “Ohhhh, fuck!”

Return to your routine of drilling her. Her whole body reacts violently to your pounding. Moreover, every part of Hyeju’s beautiful body screams to be touched. Her jiggling thighs and breasts, her midriff prone to your thrusts, her face that’s never looked this slutty… where should you start? Your touch is given multiple choices, and you choose all of them. Your hands roam her body and squeeze and feel and grope. In response, she moans. The volume of her acute voice turns up with each, almost like her body has triggers that would draw out louder sounds.

You think of it that way and now Hyeju’s screaming as you propel inside her while keeping a hand on her clit.

“Daddy, o-only you, daddy!” she proclaims in a helpless scream. “No one can make me feel as good as you do, just keep fucking me, don’t stop!”

You’ve got your answer. Smile in satisfaction and, since she’s a good girl and gave the correct response, lean it to worship her breasts. Does slapping them count as worshiping? Hyeju thinks it does—her high groans and yells are enough to be context clues. You marvel at the size of her chest, so subtle with the baggy clothes she wears but now in their full, naked glory before you. It’s impossible for them to be presented to you without a squeeze being done.

“You like my tits, daddy? I’ll let you fuck them all you want, just finish inside me. I’m safe today. Promise, p-pro—”

Bury yourself deep inside her, to the point that your cockhead pushes at her cervix. Fill her up. Hyeju moans happily. She rolls her body up and down. The stimulation seduces you into making (kind of) breeding her a job well done.

“Thank you, daddy.” she sighs. She’s still erotically grinding her hips. It’s karma for overstimulating her a little earlier when your fingers filled her.

“S-stop, Hyeju.”

“Stop? Alright, sure. I think that’s enough now. Daddy doesn’t want to fuck my tits anymore.”

Naughty little brat. She knows just the right words to tick you off and turn you on. It makes you want her to pound her into the bed again so that not even the old mattress can forget that it was the place you and Hyeju fucked.

“I’m just kidding, silly. Sit down! Yes, thank you.”

She flashes you a smile after you do as she says. It’s a rare moment in this session with her that she has the say in what happens. Somehow. It can’t be completely true, not when she’s on her knees again for you. Not when her tongue trails worshipful lines on your cock and draws tight licks on your tip. Shiver. You’re a bit sensitive yourself.

“Now see how good this feels?”

She takes her glorious breasts in her hands and wraps them around your cock. You let out a guttural moan. Hyeju’s tits rival her mouth and pussy. It’s a close competition, with the advantage of softness most of all. Oh, when she starts to move, gliding her supple skin up and down your size, you almost cum on the spot.

Her bosom is a portal to heaven, you swear. Your legs feel light. Your core is hot as your size disappears between her breasts, buried in the soft and safe haven she provides. The friction is so overwhelming that you doubt it could even be a real sensation.

She makes a show of rubbing your tip on her nipple, similar to what you did to her clit. The two of you are sensitive, so you moan in harmony as it happens. After gliding your cock on her large breasts, she goes back to titfucking you.

It’s all a matter of technique. Whenever she presses her chest together, your cock is suffocated with euphoric tenderness. On the other hand, when she simply moves up and down, you’re given the opportunity to grind down at the skin between her pale breasts. Each route leads to an inevitable fate: exploding all over her a second time.

"P-please stop, Hyeju," you say. You can't handle no more and there's so many more things you want to do to her.

"Awh." She pouts. Fat tears risk spilling from her eyes. God, she could be so cute sometimes. "What do you want, daddy? I can be good."

"Turn around."

"Ohhh, I see what you want." Hyeju turns around and spanks herself. Her ass ripples photogenically. "Of course. Of course you want it."

Hyeju can be so many things. A few minutes earlier she was a submissive babygirl for her daddy, and right before that she was a brat. Now, she transforms into a seductress. She doesn't lace or lingerie to become one. She has that fantastic body to do the work for her.

Hyeju starts to dance. Your eyes are trained on her. They never want to see anything else than her swaying her butt with a dancer's grace and charm.

"Giving me a show, huh?"

"Unless daddy wants it already."

"I do."

She squeezes her ass cheek before reaching her pussy. Then, she rubs her wetness on her pink, puckered hole. She lathers some at the inside of the rim, too. She didn't expect to fuck you today, no matter how many times she's dreamed of it, so there's no lubricant around. Hyeju has to make do.

"Oh!" she squeals when you give her a playful smack on the ass. "Impatient. Daddy's impatient. Don't worry, I'll give it to you."

“You did this before?”

“Duh.” Hyeju smiles sweetly, quickly returning to her good girl side. “You ready now, daddy?”

Apparently, it’s a rhetorical question, for Hyeju immediately guides your tip into her backside. You do your part in spreading her cheeks. Both of you moan at the first contact. It’s difficult by itself to insert just your tip through. She’s too tight.

You’re sinking into this long-chased dream. You’ve seen Hyeju walk around the dorm with no shorts on. Sometimes you're able to catch a glimpse of her bare ass when she dresses up in the dark. It’s normal when it’s with you, considering that your friendship transcends time, but she doesn’t know that yearning’s been put in your heart in those moments. You want her. You want Son Hyeju.

And now, she’s submitting herself to you. She’s given you her body, her tits, her pussy. Now she offers you an equally delicious choice: her supple ass that’s bouncy as it finally sits down completely on your lap.

“Good daddies bounce their babygirls on their knees, right? Should’ve known that, dummy. So come on, pound me. It isn’t hard.”

Well, you are. Hyeju’s ass is constricting you yet you enjoy every second of it. Her tight little asshole clings to you as you do as she says. You’d do anything for Hyeju, and that doesn’t exclude engaging in anal sex with her.

Choose a rhythm to go by to enjoy the tightness Hyeju gives you to the fullest. She leans into you and hums quietly, lower lip worried between her teeth and ass steadily rising and resting. The flexes of your thigh also stimulate her needy pussy. Your knee brushes her clit steadily while your cock penetrates her asshole better than any toy could. Better than any boy would.

“Oh, that feels so good, daddy…” Hyeju murmurs. “Keep spreading me like that, yes.”

Just when she thought you’d switch to being gentle, your thrusts become sporadic. She can’t find which timings you’re going by. The calm before the storm, so to say. Hyeju’s whimpers and whines are your thunder, and they soon live up to their name when they grow louder, filling your ears as would the violent downpour of raindrops.

“D-daddy, daddy, oh my god—” Pain partners up with pleasure in wrecking her hole. Darn you for reaching in front of her to rub her clit as well. Too many things are happening at the same time. “Daddy better make me cum, please, please—”

Your size fills the tight space of her ass so much that it’s difficult to move. The juices of her pussy that she’s used as makeshift lube can’t even do the job they’re assigned to. However, you don’t care about that. You simply fuck Hyeju’s fat, delectable ass like it’s been your long-term dream. In a way it is, but you’d be dreaming about it long after it’s already been fulfilled.

Hyeju stands up to take the lead and work her butt on you. You know she’s an excellent dancer but you never knew she could be this good at twerking either.

“Holy shit, Hyeju, your little asshole feels amazing,” you moan. Spank her, though she’s undeserving of punishment when she’s amazing at using that ass.

“And your cock is so fucking big in my ass,” she says. “I don’t want anything else, daddy. Ohh, god, keep doing that.”

Her rear end bounces and claps together as they take in your fat cock. She looks back at you lustfully, watching you ruin her supple ass. Reach for her breasts to match the velocity of her thrusts. You’re two forces colliding, each filled with fire to defeat the other with pleasure. It’s a losing game when Hyeju’s ass is just as good as her pussy, which you continue playing with to bring her to orgasm.

“Good girl, Hye, keep bouncing that fat ass on daddy,” you whisper in her ear. Love to hear her weak little moans; they show you that she likes this as much as you do. Probably more. “You want to cum, right? You want to squirt on me again?”

“Yes, daddy, please!” Hyeju is in paradise although her skin feels like it’s been set on fire. She hasn’t felt this good before. “No other cock can do me the way you do, daddy, I’m all yours! Make me cum, cum inside me, daddy!”

You’ve changed her. She’s a totally different person outside of the bedroom. She hides her approval in sarcastic comments and teases you about them. How is it that she’s completely submissive and good for you?

Your ego swells. Smack her pussy just enough to make her gasp. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours, daddy!”

“And this ass?”

“It’s all yours, daddy,” sobs Hyeju. “Always so fucking big inside me, so much better, you need to make me cum—”

Pull her down to your lap then thrust inside her all while not letting an inch withdraw from her snug butthole. “Cum for me,” you say.

“Ohhhh fuck!”

Hyeju begins her sexy body rolls again as a profane spray of clear liquid fires from her pussy. She’s so wet; when you rub her clit, a squelching sound is produced. She’s too turned on from the feeling of you savage pounding inside her. She slaps her own pussy to go along with your rubbing, then leads your fingers inside her cunt again. She’s still so tight.

The combined feeling of two of her holes being violated has her tired. She could be murmuring a spell and you wouldn’t know because of how jumbled and jarred her words are. The syllables make out your name and title. At least, that’s what you could understand. It would take an experienced veteran transcriber to make sense of Hyeju’s sounds.

You blast her ass with so much cum that it overflows, like water threatening to spill from the brim of a glass. Your joined cores are so wet and sticky that neither of you feel like moving. You want to stay in the narrow yet pleasurable comfort of each other’s touch forever.

It’s so pleasant that you could only hear the gratifying sound of each other’s pants and not the knocks on your door.

So safe that you don’t hear the sound of a lock being skewered with because each other’s bodies are more homely than this dorm.

So distracting that when he comes in through the door and yells in disgust, it’s the first time you feel an awakening sobriety.

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jarofstyles · 8 months

Text

Reaper 13

This is SUPER LONG and dirty but enjoyyy it for as long as it lasts hehe.

Check out our Patreon for early access and exclusive writing

Warnings- possessive behavior, aggression, threats, mention of murder, stalking, illegal acts we do not Condone, knife play, impact play (slapping x spanking), daddy kink if you squint, breeding kink mention, degradation, dom/sub dynamic, dumbification if you squint, choking, bondage w belt, hair pulling.... you get the gist everything is filthy as per usual

WC- 11.3k

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Tourist attractions really weren’t Harry’s thing, especially in his own city. He thought it was all a bit underwhelming, he’d rather look at a photo and be over it. He never thought he’d ever step foot in the Victoria and Albert Museum, Kensington was no place for someone like him. Yet there he was, watching his own work of art, Bunny, read the plaques by each painting.

The way her eyes lit up this morning when he told her they’d do whatever she wanted, he didn’t have it in himself to say no. So he let her drag him along to all the sites, even going as far as taking photos with her. If she were anyone else, he would tell her to stuff it- but that smile made it worth every moment of internal suffering.

“I’m getting hungry,” Bunny whispered to him, wanting to be respectful of the environment. Her arm had snaked its way under his, her hand curling around his bicep for comfort.

Harry chuckled when he felt her squeeze at the muscle, mindlessly going to place a kiss on the top of her head. The mindless affection had become more and more common. “You okay to head back towards the hotel? The options around here are a bit shit.” Harry continued in a hushed tone, guiding the two of them towards the stairs to begin exiting. “Plus, there are a bunch of pubs back that way… can get you some of that authentic food to try.”

“Authentic food?” She raised a brow. “You mean beans on toast? Egg in the hole?” There was teasing in her tone, a giant grin on her face as he looked down at her. She was taunting him, but it was good to see her really fucking smile after these last few weeks.

A scoff sounded from his throat, eyes rolling as they continued. “Lucky you’re cute. Or I’d toss your ass into the Thames, and that is particularly unpleasant.” He retorted, lightly pinching her side to make her squeak.

“Oi! Precious cargo here.” Her hip bumped into his as they walked, looking at her fake wedding ring. Although it wasn’t real, seeing it and what it represented made her stomach flutter. Would that be a possibility? Would he ever actually propose? What ring would he actually choose? He’d probably do it somewhere very private and secret, just the two of them. Shaking herself out of that thought, she continued. “What I was saying was, yes. I’m happy to head back. Your arm must be tired from holding all of my stuff.”

It wasn’t too bad. A few bags with the very tacky and overpriced London swag, things he knew she would probably stick on a shelf and not use- but part of him felt some sort of happiness that she liked it enough to buy souvenirs. “S’fine, darling. Snow globes and tee shirts and magnets are surprisingly lightweight.”

“Right, so you don’t mind if I drag us into the gift shop?” Bunny teased and squeezed his arm, tripping over her feet a bit as she leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek.

Harry had never thought he’d experience this type of relationship. It almost felt juvenile with how they clung to one another and got shy at each other's teasing ocassionally. It felt so out of character for him, but then again, it came naturally with her. He thought, if his life had been different, that maybe that’s how he was meant to be.

“Thought you said you were hungry?”

———

Pubs were a quintessential part of the British experience. You could go just about anywhere in the UK and there would always be a pub to welcome you in. Sure, the decor was a bit outdated, but Harry always thought it made them more charming. No two pubs were exactly alike. Some had different stools.

“What do you fancy? Fish and chips? Bangers and Mash? Gonna take you for a roast at the weekend.” Harry’s speech had already adjusted, his accent thicker than she’d ever heard it before. It made Bunny smile fondly, she’d never seen him in a mood like this and she was cherishing every second.

“Fancy, huh? You’re sounding incredibly British today, Mr.Davidson.” She winked, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and looping them as they settled at the end of the bar. The mood was just so good today, and she was relishing it.

“Fancy, yes. Like I fancy you.” His voice was quiet, a tiny smirk on the corner of his lips as she felt her heart stutter in her chest. His hands came to hold her hips, cuffing them with his cool skin and making her shiver. Her outfit wasn’t particularly thick- which was why she had stopped to buy the coat she’d hung up when they walked in. If someone stole it, oh well. It was pretty cheap.

“You do?” She peered at him through her lashes, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Gonna make me blush. Look at you, flirty man.” Harry had been exceptionally affectionate today and it had almost taken her off guard. Like he could finally let go a bit and give her the proper boyfriend treatment, loved treatment, whatever it was called. It made her all fuzzy and hot in her stomach.

“Good. Like making y’shy.” He tugged at the ends of her hair. “Soon as a table opens up we can sit down and properly eat.” But he didn’t mind standing here. He soaked in every second of her leaning into him, playing like a proper couple on a ‘honeymoon’. He liked the feeling of the ring on that finger.

Bunny nodded along, letting her eyes wander around the dimly lit space. The place wasn’t too packed, though as the clouds drew in it seemed everyone was looking for shelter.

“Y/N? No fucking way.” A familiar voice interrupted Bunny from her train of thought. Her head snapped in the direction the voice was coming from, swallowing thickly. Fuck. Not here- not now.

“Ian?” She hadn’t seen him in years, not since he moved away for college. She had been so devastated back then. Sterling’s departure had taken a toll on her and well, Ian wasn’t man enough to tell her he too would be leaving her.

“Are you stalking me?” He joked, taking a step towards her. It seemed as though he hadn’t noticed just who she was there with.

Harry was quick to place himself between them.

Who the fuck is this? And why the fuck did he know Bunny? His jaw clenched so hard he was surprised his teeth didn’t crack, feeling fingers gently pressing against his arm as he looked down at the shorter man.

Was this some sort of sick joke?

“Who the fuck are you?” His words were cold, his molten relaxed nature from before cooling quickly before shattering like glass on the pavement. His eyes were sharp and hard as he looked down, feeling her peek over his arm and try and move closer but he extended it to keep her behind him.

Whoever the fuck this Ian was, he was in London. A place where she knew no one. The world couldn’t possibly be that small, and he was on edge all over again. “Are you following her?”

Oh god. Bunny stepped forward, clutching Harry’s arm in her grasp to try and chill him out. It looked bad, it definitely looked bad and she could understand his irritation, but-

“H, it’s okay-“

“No. It isn’t.” His harsh tone stung his own ears as he approached further, eyes zeroed in on him. “I’ll ask again, How the fuck did you find her here?”

“Find her?” Ian looked like he had seen a ghost. He had remembered Reaper, very very well. How could he forget all the times he’d come over and he’d be outside working on his bike? The death stare he gave was enough to have him rushing inside without turning back. He was aware of the reputation Reaper held, to say Ian was scared was an understatement.

“Dude, I swear I wasn’t trying to make any moves, just surprised she’s here— I live here man.” Ian was in a rush to finish his sentences, attempting to clear the lump forming his throat.

“Baby, you know that, remember? I was dating him before Sterling left.” Bunny peeped up from behind him, her heart beating out of her chest. The last thing she needed was for Harry to cause a scene when they were trying to lay low. While the coincidence was shocking, she knew full well Ian was too stupid to pull off what her stalker was pulling.

“Where?” Harry barked, preparing to grill the man for all he was worth. If he couldn’t tell him a way a Londoner would understand, he was worried he would do his head in right here on the bar. His stomach had already been turning at the mere mention of him dating her before, but the thought of being face to face with someone who could possibly be part of this ongoing torture of his girl? He was seething.

“Canary Wharf, a few stops on the DLR. I’m not giving you my address, sicko.”

“Sicko?” He laughed without humor. “I’m not the one following girls around. How’d you know she’d be here?” He took a step closer, the hair on the back of his neck prickled as he tried to scan the man’s face for any hint of lying.

He was scared shitless, as he should be, but Harry was thrown right back into the paranoia that he usually felt back home. The hesitation and distrust of anyone who got around her. How perfect would it be for her obsessive ex to be the one following her around?

“I didn’t! I swear I didn’t, bro. I’m just as surprised as she is- t-tell him, Y/N. Please!” He was backing up slightly as Harry took another step forward, making her grab his arm and try and tug him back.

“H- Hey.” She gently dragged her fingers down his arm. “Please. It’s okay. He’s been here for a while, he left a while back. I didn’t know where he was moving to.” Trying to diffuse the situation was unnerving. She’d seen Harry get like this a few times, but she didn’t want to make a scene here. “Look at me, please. He’s not the person you think.” Meaning her stalker. She could see the cogs turning in his mind, the nervousness from how he worked his jaw, how his other hand had slipped behind him to have a hand on his gun if he needed it. They couldn’t afford to have that happen in such a public place, but it was well known that Harry, when he was Reaper mindset, didn’t care. He would take out a threat and deal with the consequences. As much as it warmed her that he was that dedicated to her safety, it wasn’t any good if he went down for taking out the wrong guy.

“Babe.” Her stern tone cut through the tension, her hand moving to squeeze over his hand tightly. This couldn’t happen. Bunny’s heart was beating out of her chest, looking between the two of them as she tried to figure out what her next move was. “Ian, you remember Harry yeah?” She began, her fingers rubbing gentle circles over the wedding band on her boyfriend’s hand. It would be hard to explain it to Ian, so she figured it was best to keep them hidden. “He brought me here to London to show me around, we’ve been together for a while now so it felt like a good time to see where he came from.”

Harry was still sizing Ian up, chest heaving slightly. Focusing on the sound of Bunny’s voice, he could still hear the faint sound of blood pumping in his ears. This guy was harmless, she had ruled him out but Harry’s brain was still on high alert.

“Anyways, we were just leaving,” Harry interjected, no longer wishing to be in this idiot's presence. He needed to be back in a safe space with his Bunny.

“We don’t have to-“

“I just remembered our reservation. Let’s go.” The tone of his voice had taken her off guard, unfamiliar with the sweet one he usually held specifically for her, but she would let it go despite how it stung under her skin. He was wound up and nervous, and he had just had a scare in the one place he had seemed to key his guard down. She had to remember that. He had just been knocked over, metaphorically speaking.

“You don’t have to run off,” Ian said with a laugh, feeling a bit bolder and wanting to reclaim that stupid masculinity he had felt was stripped of him from the interaction. “I’m not going to try and steal her-“

Before he could finish, his shirt was fisted in Harry’s hand, his body whipped around and pressed to the bar as the cocky look on his face faded to fear. His eyes were dark and cold, though the anger was simmering under the surface of his skin.

“You can’t have her. She isn’t an item to be stolen. I’ve heard about your puny cock and the lack of care you’ve given my girl. Bold of you to assume she’s mentioned more than her dissatisfaction over you.” He did indeed remember this dickhead. It made him want to drag him to the back alley and use the silencer on his gun to take him out. But he was in public. So threats would have to do. “If you breathe a word of her being here, if you try to contact her, if you even look at her again tonight, I will end you. Make your life a living hell, and end it with your body sunk in the Thames.” His words were quiet, but so matter of fact that Bunny’s eyes widened. The pub noises would filter out anyone else hearing, but she could.

“I know the people from the deepest depths of the underground here. One fucking call and I’ll have your entire flat ruined, your bank account drained, and your body strung up in an abandoned building before they dispose of you. So heed this warning very, very carefully.” He got closer. “You’ll stay here, order a pint, and forget that this night and my woman has ever existed. If I hear a word of this breathed out -and I will- I’ll make good on my phone call.” Eyes traced him in disgust. “And you won’t make very good fish food, either.”

Finally, he dropped the guy and pulled Bunny with him, trying to be mindful of how hard he pulled so her shorter legs wouldn’t make her fall. But he was livid. Angry, his face blank and nostrils flared as he grits his teeth.

She decided to stay silent, following him and wrapping her arm around his, their connected fingers an anchor for the both of them. “I’m sorry.” Her voice peeped, looking up at him. “I-didn’t know he would be there. I swear I haven’t known anything since he moved.”

He froze. Why was she apologizing?

Harry could hear the sound of his teeth grinding, though it seemed he felt no pain. His focus was purely on getting her back to the hotel as safely and quietly as possible. Stupid fucking idiot had to choose this pub of all pubs in London to walk into and ruin the perfect end to the day for his perfect girl.

“S’ fine, Bun.” Harry tried his best to reassure her, though his breathing was still heavy and his mind was still racing. He was on high alert as he guided the two of them through the busy crowd of Leicester Square, no one paid much attention to them there. Only one more turn and they’d be safe in the street right by their hotel.

Bunny wasn’t sure what she was expecting as they entered the hotel and made their way up. She chose to stay quiet, her arms wiggling their way around his waist as her head rested against his chest in an attempt to soothe them both. His heart was pounding, though his muscles were noticeably less tense than they had been at the pub.

She didn’t think she’d be able to eat much now, her main concern was tending to Harry. It’d been a good while since he’d snapped back into his protective state, they’d worked so hard to get him to actually relax on this trip. She had been worried it was all for nothing.

“Talk to me.” She murmured as they entered the safety of their room, the sound of Harry double-checking the locks behind them had her eyes squeezing shut. She wished he didn’t have to go through this. If only they didn’t go to that pub.

His throat bobbed as he scanned the room again, only broken out of the trance when her hands gently grabbed his face, cradling his jaw. All she did was gentle. She treated him with a softness no one else ever had, one that he had never even thought of himself being able to have.

There was a moment he stood without a word, looking down at him as he tried to gather himself. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her or make her feel neglected like he had the time before, but it was really fucking hard to do that. His body was taught, tense and he held back tremors of both rage and fear. It was a false alarm, sure, but he had felt all the feelings he imagined surfacing from finding the son of a bitch stalker. His uneven breathing filled the room as she continued to try and soothe him, her soft and concerned gaze killing him. How the fuck was she being so good with him even after what he had done? How he had shut down?

“I was terrified.” He admitted into the silence of the room. “That it was him. I’m still not convinced he isn’t involved. I was letting myself get too relaxed. You’re in danger.” He stressed, head tilting back as he ran his hands over his face. There was obvious regret and self anger in his tone, breaking her heart just a bit more. “I was selfish for not letting my head be on a swivel. I could never forgive myself if I let you get hurt. Ever.” Hs hands peeled off his cheeks so he could look at her, the seriousness of his words bleeding through.

“I promised to protect you. Not only to your father, to your brother- but to myself. This whole thing, you and I? It isn't just sex to me, Bunny. You’re- you’re mine. In every fucking sense of the word. The one person that means anything to me and if I fuck up because I want to- I want to be selfish and just let go? I’d die. If you hurt, I hurt. I can’t ever let it happen.” He felt the intensity in his stomach rise, the feelings he had been trying to keep in check boiling over in the pot. Frothing over the edges, he couldn’t stop himself from falling for her, no matter how many times he had stirred and tried to keep the overflow at bay.

“You mean the most to me. I’ve never cared this much about a person. I felt so much rage… not only at him but at myself. I’m so angry.” He growled. “He looked at you. He touched your arm. How much fucking clearer does it have to be?” Slowly backing her up, Bunny trusting him as her back bumped against the door and her head tipped up to look up at him. Her angry knight. So passionate about protecting her. “Do I have to get you a sign to tell people you’re mine? That I’m yours and I will rip their hearts from their chest, I will slice off any finger that touches you?” His eyes blazed, Harry’s discomfort obvious. He meant every word. AS gruesome as he could be, she hadn’t seen the whole of it yet. This girl got to see the good parts of him and he was convinced that she would be the only one they were reserved for.

Bunny’s eyes searched his, trying to find some kind of sign. Sure, his emotions were on high, but he meant each word he was saying. She could feel it— never once did his words falter, his gaze never leaving hers as his fingertips delicately began to push her jacket off of her shoulders.

“Say something.” Harry breathed, his eyes too scanning hers in an attempt to anchor himself in the moment. When he was with her nothing else mattered, he didn’t have to be anyone he wasn’t. With her he was free. “I mean every word—“

“I know.” Bunny’s voice had been so quiet she wasn’t even sure if he heard it. The words she had wanted to say were hiding just under her breath, if only she felt brave she would tell him. Profess that she loved him and that she trusted him more than anyone else in this world. “I keep thinking,” She started, her sentence interrupted by the thump of her jacket falling on the floor. “You’re the only one I’d want to be here with. The only one I want…” Her words trailed off with a soft moan. God, she was sick.

Cold fingertips dragged up along her arm, Harry’s other hand finding the warmth of her lower back just under her top. He really couldn’t help himself, she was the only thing that could get him to relax.

His stomach heated with a different sort of passion. A flick of a candle, a switch of a blade, a single moan. Her soft body melted into his own as her eyes bore into his own, that calming energy sinking into his skin and melding into arousal that he couldn’t help. She was aroused by this?

Yes. She was. The woman was affected by his words, by his protective nature. Even as deprived and awful, inhumane as his version of justice could be perceived as, she was excited by it. Flattered. His face got closer to hers, bracing with his arm against the door.

“I mean it.” His words were a shaky exhale. “I mean every fucking word.” His hands slipped further under the fabric, her hot skin melting his icy interiors yet again. “Anyone touches you… anyone even thinks about stroking this perfect skin… tasting your mouth…. Harming a single hair on your head. I’d end them.” He pressed closer, fingers finding the nape of her neck. “I’d kill for you, baby. D’you know that?” Harry doubted that she would ever actually know the full extent of what he would do for her. How close she had him to being on his knees at her wish.

She nodded, their noses brushing together. Harry smiled, not a normal one but what she could consider almost feral. Hot. Her thighs trembled as she couldn’t recall anyone else who had been able to gain such a reaction from her body. Their interactions were always something she felt fully, but his intensity was ringing in her ears, throbbing through her body. There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt that he would.

“I almost did tonight. I meant every word. And I’ll do the same back in Vegas. I’ll find who is tracking you… I’ll send them to meet Hades myself. And then… then I’m going to take you on a proper vacation. I’m going to take you to a beach and fuck you on the sand, I’m going to fuck you on my bike, I’m going to do everything you deserve. I know I don’t deserve you. But I’m a selfish son of a bitch, Bunny. I’m mean, I fight, I do illegal shit, I’ve got blood on my hands and targets on my back, but I’m keeping you anyway.” Their breathing mingled as he tried to control himself but it was slipping.

His lips pressed against hers hard, feeling her fists on his shirt to pull him closer. It was no use.

“I will burn the entire fucking city down to make sure you’re safe. I’ve never been afraid of anything. Death, fire, pain. But I’m fucking terrified of losing you.”

Time stood still as the two of them stood barely a step into their hotel room. Harry cradled her with his arm, unable to get enough of his skin on her own. Her shivers only drove him all the more insane, he was hypnotized by the feeling she brought him, the comfort of her existence was something he felt himself continuously getting drunk on. He didn’t want to stop himself, he couldn’t. Not when every moment felt like it could be their very last.

“I’m not going anywhere, Harry. I’ll always find you.” Bunny knew there was very little could do, but on the off chance that this fucker managed to find her she would leave as many clues for Harry as she possibly could. No way would she let some monster get in the way of this beautiful blossoming relationship. “Even if it hurts me.” She whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips. She was hungry to taste them again, it was the perfect remedy for the comedown of shock. What if she wanted it to hurt?

“Please let go just for tonight… just take me how you want to.” She would do just about anything to get him back to a relaxed state again. This feral look on his face awakened something in her, he’d previously mentioned he’d been holding back. There was something about the dark breathy chuckle he let out that had her mind reeling. “I’m serious.” Bunny felt her heart rate picking up as he toyed with the delicate skin of her neck. “Please.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” He whispered, trying to keep that curated delicacy he had reserved for her at hand- but failing. Failing miserably.

“I do.” She whispered back, arching into him. “You’re upset. You want to prove that I’m yours?” There was danger in taunting him. The girl knew that. But she wanted him to break down, to give in to those urges again. The last time had been so, so good. She could still feel the slight ache but she wanted more. Greedy. She was so incredibly greedy for every lick and drop of affection, his real self she could get. Her hand reached for his, pulling it towards the front of her throat to collar it.

“Fuck me, Harry. Own me. Use my body, mark me, make everyone know.” She bleated, eyes wide for him. “Please?” Her lips pressed against his. “Please, please, please. Just for tonight- make me ache. You know my limits. Push them.”

“Baby, I don’t want to hurt you.” Harry breathed through his nose, trying so hard not to give in to her even though she was offering herself up on a silver platter. The feeling of his hand around her throat was something that’d felt natural, her kiss tempting him even more. She knew just how to get him to succumb to her desires but there was still that bit of fear.

Sure, the other night they dabbled into the territory. A few good slaps, her slipping into subspace. This, however, was a whole other beast. Harry could be truly sadistic, relentless in the way he fucked women. While his girl had proven to be the perfect slut for him, he still worried that he would lose himself. There would always be more caution in this because he cared about her, he adored her, her life meant something to him. It just made him worry a little about self control when she taunted him. Especially when he was in a mood like this. Where he knew he wouldn’t stop himself from absolutely ruining her.

“I want you to.” Bunny was confident that she could take it. The slaps yesterday were manageable, hot, even and with the right aftercare, she was positive there was nothing he could do that would truly hurt her. Harry in his feral state was terrifying, yes, but a thrill that made her sopping wet. She was the object of his desire, surely the aggression he would lay upon her would translate differently than it had with anyone before her.

“Want you to show me the real you… want to know what it’s like, I can handle it.” She had opened up for him so nicely, let him see her slip into the softest of spaces. She had hoped to see him enter his own headspace, one where they could interact together.

“God….” Harry rolled his head back on his shoulders, his erratic breathing amplified by her fingers pressing over his own, making him squeeze. It got his attention right away. Damn it all to hell. The woman had a road map to the paths to drive him wild the quickest, the buttons installed in the tips of her little fingers.

She moaned. The vibration of it stung his palm. She was serious. Her head rolling back on the door as she hated herself to him with her eyes fluttering at the feeling. She was showing him, taunting him, and Harry could feel the tether to his rational being fraying.

“You… can handle it?” His lips curled up in one of the most cruel little smirks she had ever seen. “The soft, sweet little slut can handle it? Just a bit of slapping has you slipping. You really think you can manage it? When I make a mess out of you?”

Her nod made him narrow his eyes, watching as she blinked up at him. Did she?

He tested the waters, gathering saliva under his tongue and spitting it right on her closed lips, getting a surprised gasp from her. A flinch. “Lick your lips. Clean it up.” He stood straighter, seeming to loom over her. She stood with wide eyes, looking like she was going to speak before he took his fingers from behind her and lightly smacked her cheek.

“I didn’t fucking ask you to speak. Did I?” Her head shook, a tiny whimper making him laugh before continuing on. “No, I didn’t. I know you get a little brainless when I touch you, all you can think about is cock… but I gave you instruction. Try again.” He hissed, feeling his cock throb at how quickly she let her tongue rub over her lips. Pink brushing over the glistening pair of lips wet with his spit, she slowly dragged the muscle over the pout.

“There we are. Pretty little pet does have some sense floating up there.” He cooed, thumbing the rest she couldn’t get over the rest of her chin and rubbing it into the skin.

There was a pause, his eyes softening for a moment as he checked in. “My messy baby. Are you sure you can handle it? Y’know I adore you.” He pressed a soft kiss to her wet mouth, a direct contrast to his previous actions. “You’re my girl but… I’m gonna be mean to you. You know how to get me to stop, yeah?” It had to be abundantly clear. There wouldn't be unnecessary risks of losing her trust.

Bunny nodded her head, not wanting to risk speaking and making him unnecessarily angry. Just one word, that’s all it would take for him to stop. She decided to take his word for it and behave while she was still grounded in reality, god knows what she’s getting herself into when she was drunk on him and his cock. He’d given her a taste of it last time, blown her expectations out of the water, but she was his greedy girl after all.

His actions had shaken her up just enough for wetness to start pooling in her panties. She loved seeing him in this state, it was so animalistic. He was only focused on one thing and that was pleasure— in this case, his own. She would happily give herself to him a million times over if this meant he could get it out of his system. If it was anything like before she knew she’d enjoy it.

He’d never been mean to her before, it would definitely be a new feeling. However, it was all in the name of sex. Sex makes you say all sorts of things, it’s part of its nature. It’s a connection people can’t properly put into words. Bunny was eager to explore their connection even further and prove their trust.

“That’s a good girl.” He sighed, stroking over her hair before wrapping it around his fist. “Come.”

There was no other option- but Y/N didn’t mind. She followed, relishing in the slight prickling pain on her scalp as he stayed true to his word and led her like a naughty pup over to the bed.

“You’re such a nice girl. It really is such a shock to me that you love acting like a depraved whore.” He said with a chuckle. “Y’know, I thought… the first time we saw each other again, you were so sweet looking. Grown up, not a little girl, but sweet. That big smile and sparkling pretty eyes, bouncing on your feet. And then, later in the night… you crawled up on my lap. Tried to tempt me, with your brother just feet away. That’s when I knew there had to be something with you. Something that made you dirty, just like me.”

He undid his belt with his free hand, the sound of the leather snapping out of the belt loops making her whimper. His start was intense, intently on her eyes as he released her hair. “Wrists in front of you.”

There was no second request. She did it quickly, letting herself feel the warm leather wrap snugly around her wrists and through them. There was a shot of jealousy when she realized she was not the only one he had done this to. No- Harry must have done this dozens of times because of how well he did it, but she kept her mouth shut as he secured her.

“There.” One last tug and she was secure enough to not escape, but easy enough for Harry to be able to undo it quickly. “What a fucking vision you are, darling. Look at you.” His voice aired out, walking in a circle around her. Reaching into his pocket, he steadied himself behind her. His nose brushed her neck, inhaling the scent of her. This was enough to get him drunk. The perfume, her soap, the scent that could only be her…. Biting down on the flesh in a nip to make her yelp.

“Too good. Too fucking good for me, and yet…. You let me do such filthy things to you. I wonder what everyone would think if they knew how eager you were to get my cock in your mouth. So quickly after we agreed I’d be your boyfriend… taunting me. Almost crying because I didn’t give you my cum. And now? Now you want it dripping down your thighs.”

There was a metallic slice in the air, Bunny stiffening as she felt cool metal brush her chest. The flag of his pocket knife. “If they knew you shivered in anticipation while having a knife held to you. You know how nasty you’ve got to be, darling?” He laughed, the heat of it making her shiver again. “Oh, that’s why you’re so perfect for me, little Bunny.”

She gasped as he sliced through the upper part of her top in a swift motion, using his hands to rip the rest off. “But what good is having a beautiful slut at my beck and call if she’s clothed?”

The anticipation was killing her, all her senses heightened. She’d been waiting for him to bring the knife out again, but the unexpected action had her feeling warm. There was something that washed over her, a feeling reminiscent of embarrassment but was much more pleasurable. Sitting there exposed to him, clothes cut, unable to move her hands. The danger of it all was too appealing, Harry played the part well. Though, he wasn’t playing at all.

Harry noticed her breathing pick up, the way her chest was heaving made his cock stir in his jeans. He let the blade of the knife trace down her denim-clad leg, teasing her with the sensation before the tip met the zipper. “I bet you’re soaked under these, my perfect whore. Always ready for me to stuff you.” He was debating cutting the jeans off of her but decided against it, using one hand to unbutton them and pull them down.

Harry wasted no time in slicing her panties off, a dark laugh leaving his lips at her gasp. “Always liked that move, hm? Filthy slut. Open.” He commanded, waiting for her jaw to drop down before stuffing her mouth full of her panties. “Don’t trust you to stay quiet so I think this will do.”

It was degrading, absolutely, but there was just something about the way Harry could make it feel good. The humiliation swam in her stomach pooling down to her cunt, the damp spot on the fabric pressed against her tongue.

“Tastes good, doesn’t it?” He ran the cold metal over her thighs, over her mound ever so carefully to get it wet before moving in front of her. His eyes were dark, tongue licking up the flat of the blade and groaning at the taste. “Yeah. You can see why I love being parked right between these gorgeous thighs. If you weren’t such a baby, you’d stop complaining about being over-sensitive and let me lick you up. But…” he tossed the knife to the side. “I think….” His hand pushed her to fall on the bed. “It’s time for a proper taste. I’ve got you gagged, bound… I can lick you up, and prepare you for my cock. How does that sound?” He turned his back towards her to the drawer beside the bed, where he had left the cleaned and unpackaged toys. “Oh, that’s right. Y’can’t reply.” The snarky reply somehow left her feeling a bit more hot. How did he manage that?

“Gonna make you so sensitive, and you’re just going to lay there and take it. You loved being my fucktoy last time, so let’s see.” Standing between her legs, he tugged her by the ankles toward the end of the bed while he ignored her muffled squeak. “Three kicks with your foot if it’s too much. Otherwise? Don’t complain.” Establishing a safe system was imperative regardless of verbal ability.

Bunny felt her cunt throbbing but resisted the urge to squeeze her thighs together. It wouldn’t do her any good, not when Harry was standing there looking down at her cunt as if it was his first and last meal all at once. He took his sweet time, picking up one of her legs so he could kiss and bite his way down to her core. He loved the way she reacted to him, her sensitivity made him crave her that much more. Her scent had him forgetting what he had initially planned to do, eyes zeroing in on her puffy slick folds. Harry’s hands gripped around her thighs, lowering himself till he was kneeling on the floor.

With the panties gagging her, Bunny assumed her moans would be silenced. Instead, she was met with muffled sounds that only elevated the feeling of Harry’s tongue lapping her up. It was an erotic blend, the sound of slurping and sucking making her legs twitch. He was so good at this. Creating environments built to break her down little by little.

He was relentless.

Of course that was a given, but it seemed he was even more desperate tonight to get her, to get every bit of her slick on his tongue and she couldn’t keep quiet, even with her gag. He wasn’t holding back, licking up from her entrance to her clit before spitting back down and using his hand to gently smack over her.

When she squealed, Harry’s wet mouth grinned, filthy promise written in his eyes as he smacked harder over her clit and watched her hips buck up. “Slut for pain. Like when I do that to you?” He shook his head, picking up the toy and dragging up her wet folds. “I hope that extends to some overstimulation. I want you to cry for me today. Good tears. Tears only I can ever get out of you.”

Turning it on he felt her jump, the lower setting making her squirm as he situated it right on her clit whilst his finger slipped into her cunt. “Drooling little hole you’ve got… you’re lucky you love this so much. It’s going to make it far easier for us when I’m fucking you.”

The woman’s breathing was staggered, her stomach clenching at the tension he was creating. It hurt so good, the burn paired with a deep lull of pleasure creeping throughout her body. The gentle vibration of the toy was tormenting her, if only he had turned it up even just one degree she swore it wouldn’t be as agonizing as this.

Whimpers managed to push through the fabric lodged in her mouth, her thighs twitching in his grasp. She was trying her best not to squirm, breathing heavily through her nose as she mentally coached herself through the pleasure. Her cunt squeezed around his fingers, desperate to be filled by his cock once again. He said he was being mean, there would be no point begging. She did tell him he could do what he wanted. Bunny would be good.

“What a perfect fucking whore, I can feel you squeezing me. Want more?” Harry mocked, rubbing the pads of his fingers over her precious g-spot. He was slow with the movements, coaxing more of those delicious little moans out of her. “Should’ve known you could take it— don’t you dare cum before I say so.” He didn’t want to stop touching her, he intended to flood her senses for a good while before giving her her first of many orgasms.

Harry clicked the toy up a speed, chuckling darkly at the way her body jolted. “So sensitive, so greedy…” He just about growled into her thigh, teeth sinking into the skin enough to satisfy him. The man could tell she was gone, but he didn’t want to stop it. Not when she was taking it so well, not when she so clearly wanted more.

She yelped against the fabric, body jerking as his teeth marked her. He hadn’t been joking when he had said he was going to go for it. While he’s bitten her before, this one was a claiming one. Dark and hard and a promise of more, making her drip for him.

“So-ee.” The poor attempt of ‘Sorry’ was muffled through a gag, apologizing from her jolt. His eyes glazed up at her, shaking his head but continuing his slight torture.

Harry loved to see her wet like this. To see the wet juices of her cunt coat his fingers and drip down her folds, all the way down to her ass. Soon enough it would mark the bedcover, and he couldn’t wait for that. His cock was aching, pulsing in his briefs but he was satisfying a different urge.

“Sorry? Mm… Slutty thing is sorry she can’t take a bite. What are we going to do with you?” Adding another finger, her legs twitched as her toes curled, the sloshing, wet sound of them fucking into her the music he needed to hear to his ears. “Don’t fucking cum.” He warned, pressing the vibrator harder against her clit. “Don’t do it. I know you’ve got a filthy set of holes back here, but have some self control.” He could feel it, the beginnings of clenches around his fingers and her thighs trembling as she began to protest behind the gag.

She almost did it. The pain had buzzed on to pleasure as his joined fingers curled right against a spot that had her stomach jumping, but he could tell. Immediately, her muddled moans were disrupted by a screech. His hand yanked away the toy, his fingers pulling out and the wet palm of his hand coming rough roughly onto her cunt.

“What did I say? Did I not just fucking tell you to hold it? You were going to do it anyway.” Again, his hand came down right over her clit, the sharp sting making her writhe under him. Again. And again. The stringing of slaps to her most intimate area hurt, but they felt good. So good, and Bunny could feel tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

With a glare, Harry’s fingers pulled her spit soaked panties from her mouth and held her jaw roughly, speaking to her through a cruel smile. “Does it hurt too bad?” He cooed, shaking her head back and forth before he narrowed his eyes. “Or…Did you like that? Did my pretty little pain slut like having her cunt smacked around?” He asked, wiping his wet fingers on her cheek. Y/N was stupified, eyes wide and wet and mouth open as she tried to find the words. “Yes or no, Bunny. Use those words. Or did Daddy take them away from you so quickly?”

“Yes, I liked it, Daddy.” Bunny could feel her face heating up as she breathed out her answer. Admitting it to him always made her feel so shy, even more so than being spread out like this. Her body belonged to him, she never wanted to hide from him after the first time. But saying she liked his twisted methods of domination was another story. She used all the strength she had to hold herself up, using this opportunity to take in his expression. His face was wet—covered in her arousal, and his eyes were dark with pure lust. Primal desire, he couldn’t help himself. Every bit of her struggle to manage the immense pleasure sent him further into the headspace. He swore he could swallow her whole if she’d let him.

“Yeah? You like it, gorgeous?” Harry cooed, noticing the floaty look in her eyes. She was just as far gone as he was, he was glad she had convinced him to give in. His perfect girl, she really could take it.

“I do... I do, I love it.” She mewled, seeking his approval as she looked at him with glassy eyes and pouty lips. “Love e-everything you do to me. I want to make you happy.”

Harry felt that tiny bit of softness leak through the primitive layer, making him pet over her face softly before it melted away. She was dazed, looking like a baby deer- his helpless little Bunny. “I know you do. I could do anything I wanted and you’d thank me for it.” He sighed, shaking his head before pressing his lips to hers. A hint of softness before he had her.

“I could take this little toy….” He took the vibrator, switching it back on to a higher setting and placing it on her clit as he loomed over her shivering body, her mouth open and wet as she took uneven inhales. “And I could tape it to you. I could keep this little thing connected to your poor little clit and make you cum over and over for me until you can’t take it. And you’d thank me.”

A tear dripped down her cheek as she tried to hold back, the orgasm quickly rising as he had found the perfect spot, the perfect pace. “H-sir, sir- please let me cum, please, please, please.” She wrung her hands in the belt, the bite of the leather making her moan. “I can’t hold it, I can’t hold it, I wanna be good-“

And then, it was gone. A sob left her throat, frustration raising as Harry’s smirking face was her only vision.

“That was a cute beg. I liked it.” His smile resembled a wolf. Hunting her down, playing with his food. “Let’s try it again.”

Edging.

“No, no, no— Please!” Bunny cried, thrashing slightly in disapproval. “Please, please, please, please—“

Smack.

“Quiet,” Harry commanded, his voice stern as his hand roughly gripped her face. With furrowed brows he stared down at her, daring her to look away. “You were doing so well, what happened?” He kissed his teeth, dropping her from his grip. “If you want to cum you have to listen to me, brat.” He was testing his own patience. Hearing her beg was a weakness of his, but he wanted to prove a point.

Bunny simply nodded, bottom lip quivering for a moment. She wanted to cum so bad she could cry, the smack he placed across her cheek only fueling the fire in her core. “I’m sorry, sir.” She squeaked, blinking away her needy tears in hopes that he would touch her.

“Can I have a kiss? Please.” Her voice changed momentarily, needing him to ground her and remind her that she was doing well despite his harshness.

It was a moment of clarity, her shaky voice bleeding into a slightly unsure tone that had him softening up nearly immediately. It was good to know that his body truly could tell a difference. His fingers stroked her cheek where he had smacked, eyes gentle as he tipped her chin up and pressed their lips together for a loving kiss. “Doing so well for me. Can’t believe how well you’re taking this.” He murmured against her lips. “You’re okay?” The last thing he wanted to do was upset her seriously.

Thankfully she nodded, puckering her lips for a few more kisses which he readily gave to her before he could sense her melting back into position. “There. Good girl. Just tell me if you need me to stop, you know the safe word.” He gently tapped the tip of her nose before he let that dark mask take back over.

She was in awe of how he could do it. How he could be so loving and tender to her and then call her all the names in the book- and even more so because she loved it. Ate up every single piece of it

Without a word, he slipped his hand under her jaw to keep her eyes on him while the other flipped the vibrator back on. “You can cum this time. Then I think you’ll be nice and open for my dick. I want to see you be the pretty, needy little brat. Talk to me. Because as soon as I’m inside you, you’re not going to be able to.” He nudged their noses together. “Because you get so dumb on my cock. I love every bit of it. But someone’s got to remind you who you belong to.”

She belonged to him.

Everyone in this hotel would know that by the end of the night, Harry would make sure of it. Granting her permission to make noise, he knew there was no reason for her to hold back. He himself was tired of the muffled sounds, he wanted to hear her loud and clear.

“Thank you, sir, I-aH” Bunny’s breath hitched, relaxing into the feeling with a low whine. He had started it off deliciously slow again, though the pain from his previous torment had built up. She was sensitive.

“Just wanna cum, wanna show you how good you make me feel.” Bunny’s hands instinctually went to cup her tits but forgot about her bound wrists. She cursed him in her head, quickly losing herself in the pleasure as he turned the toy up another speed.

“Please slap my tits, want you to bite me again— I wanna cum for you over and over and over like you said, sir.” She was gone, far gone. “I’m your good girl, I promise.”

Harry loved this. He loved every bit of it.

This woman called to every single part of him, making him feel slightly feral as she spoke. This was his best friend’s little sister, the woman he was supposed to protect, and yet she was here telling him to slap her tits, bite her, to make her cum. It was wrong in many senses of the word but Harry had found that part of that made it feel even better.

He growled under his breath, doing exactly as he wanted. “That’s what I wanted.” He chuckled, slapping her bare breast before pinching her nipple. The noise that came from her swollen mouth was unlike what he’d heard before, but it continued when he pulled on it. It was visible in her face, she was wrecked already and he wanted to get her there. Make her babble again, her shaking legs struggling to stay open as he leaned down to bite right on the swell of her breast.

Bunny let out another desperate mewl, the bite hurting so fucking good she was close to seeing stars. “Please, please, I’m a good girl. I’m a good girl for you, I’m yours, keep biting me- M’gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna….” Her frantic squeaks were paired with a dark noise from Harry’s throat, moving to her neck to bite down on the soft curve of her shoulder. As soon as his teeth dug in, she lost it.

The vibrations, the pain of them, his fingers twisting and pinching her breast, the perfect mixture to make her cum. A wail left her plushy mouth as Harry rutted slightly against her thigh, pulling his teeth away to watch her face scrunch in pleasure.

She could feel pins and needles in her legs, crying as she came. The work up to the orgasm, the restraint, his closeness, she was greedy and got one of her wishes.

Bunny sighed in satisfaction, her body convulsing as she rode out the orgasm. “Fuck! Ah-“ She hissed, finally feeling the buzzing of the vibrator on her clit. It seemed that Harry wasn’t satisfied with just the one. “It hurts, Daddy.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him to turn it off though.

“Shh, give it a few moments, pet…” Harry mumbled against her skin, knowing if she waited long enough the pain would turn to pleasure. It took a few more moments and whines from her till he felt her hips buck up against the toy. “That’s it, give me another one like the greedy little whore you are.” He let his mouth move back down to her chest, sucking at the skin before finding another perfect patch to bite.

Her skin was so warm and smooth against him, though he was starting to get annoyed at the layers he still had on. He hadn’t even bothered to rid himself of his clothes, getting carried away in the moment. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of her either.

“Can I? Fuck— can I cum again? It feels so good, can I, can I, can I—“ Bunny’s breathing was picking up again, eyes squeezing shut as if that would stop the quickly building climax from ripping through her. “I can’t hold it, please say yes, please—”

Pulling off her nipple, his hand smacked against her breast before he barked out the order.

“Cum.”

She felt like she wasn’t in her own body, on her way out. Halfway in. She was hot, sweat on her brow as she shuddered under him. It was fuzzy, her eyes clenching shut as her mouth opened in a silent screech.

Harry loved watching her cum. How her body arched, how she shook, her jaw clenching and her chest heaving. He was going to make sure he could keep this vision exclusively his for the rest of his life.

“That’s it, that’s my fucking girl.” He praised, laughing in disbelief as he felt her gush a little on his hand that held the toy. Messy, wet, everything he had been going for. He knew when it was starting to get too much, her squirm and whine signaling him for the right moment to stop. Pulling it off, he tossed it to the side and pressed their lips together, peppering filthy praises between the kisses.

“My fucking girl. So pretty when you cum for me. You drive me crazy. I’m so obsessed with you.” He panted, pulling back and taking her bound hands, and untying the belt off of her wrists. They looked a little irritated, making him take a second to stroke over them and bring them together to kiss the irritated skin. “M’not sorry, precious. You loved it.”

He was quick to dispose of the rest of his clothes, kicking them whenever they landed. He just wanted her. She was boneless on the bed, his gorgeous woman, panting as she looked at him with wet cheeks and clenched thighs he had to pry back open.

“C’mon,Baby. Up.” He lifted her towards the top of the bed. settling her onto the pillows, her hair haloed across the linen pillowcases, her bitten lips plump and dark, cheeks wet with her tears from the pleasure. His angelic picture with a frame sent from hell.

“You can touch me now, but I need to be inside of you.”

“I want you,“ Bunny’s hands immediately flew up to his hair, tugging at the roots with vigor. She had been itching to do it since the minute his tongue swiped over her clit, her grip so tight she swore her knuckles were white. “Inside. Right now.” She was still breathless, lifting her head to connect their lips once again.

She loved to kiss him. She would be happy just kissing him forever, but why would she want to when he could fuck her like this? “You’re so hot,” She whined against him, “please put your cock in me. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Bunny let one of her hands trail down his back, nails digging into the skin to inflict a bit of pain and emphasize her words. She needed his cock. “Call me greedy, I don’t care, I want it so bad— I wanna make a mess all over you. Want to feel you,” She trailed off, her eyes glazed over with desire. Her hand moved to grab his, placing it over the softest part of her belly. “Here.”

He had definitely broken her a bit. That shy, soft spoken spirit with a hint of tease had gone full blown need, showing her hand as she broke, egging him for it. Whining. She liked to be manhandled, she liked how regardless of his rough actions he took time to praise and check in and it drove her mad.

His hand flexed on her stomach, a fire flaring through his body. His Bunny begging him for it, not a hint of hesitation- it did something for him. A new wick lit inside, engulfing the rest of him in flames. It triggered a thought. One that would have repulsed him had it been quite literally anyone else…but the girl under him had a way of making him completely and utterly ruin any walls he had up. Rubble on the pavement.

He obliged, settling between her legs and brushing the dripping, ruddy tip of his engorged cock through her slick and puffy lips. It was so easy to get wet enough, wasting little time as he began to push in.

“Then take it.” He whispered, sliding his hand under her neck to hold her there. Right at the nape, eyes watching as hers watered at the stretch. “You want me in your belly, baby? Want to be full of me?” Lips brushed hers. “You are such a needy, desperate little bitch. Y’know that? I adore every part of it. Makes me even more glad that you’re mine… but…” he hissed as she welcomed him in, finding his home deep seated in her cunt with his balls up against her ass. “When you do things like that, makes me want to breed you.” Their mingled breathing paused as Bunny’s caught in her throat. “Ought t’knock you up. Keep you full….. because you’re mine. You know it… but the world should know too, shouldn’t it? Should know *exactly* who you belong to.”

Y/N whined, wide eyed looking at him as her body reacted to the ultra possessive claim. He’s always been a domineering man, but something about such a permanent claim had them both hot. It would be the worst timing, but her legs tightened around him to keep him close.

“Please.” The bleated word hit his lips. “I- yes. Yes. I want it, I want you in my belly. Please do it.”

Harry snickered at her pleading, feeling his cock grow impossibly heavy inside her. She was begging for his load, to have his child. Part of him knew she was just spacey, but he decided he’d let himself imagine she truly meant it for the moment. Would hurt right?

“Asking so nicely, like a good little slut.” He purred, the same feral smile returning to his face. His hips pulled back only to snap back inside her with a guttural moan leaving his throat. “Fucking love your cunt,” He set a slow pace for himself, wanting to meld his cock into every part of her walls. “Think I could spend days inside of you and still never get enough…. And you’re squeezing me so tight, you still aren’t satisfied?”

“No, too slow.” Bunny breathed, at her wit's end. Feeling full of him wasn’t cutting it in this state, she was feigning. Her hips bucked up on her own, her back arching to lean further into him. Her bratty self wasn’t taking too well to this position. He was still going easy on her. “Don’t tease me anymore, know you want to fuck me stupid. Make me hurt. Show me how you want it.”

What she hadn’t expected, though, was the sting in her scalp as he gripped her hair and kept her face still as he filled her to the brim, stopping the thrusts.

No. No, she needed more.

“I think you forget who’s in charge here.” He snarled. “No matter how good your cunt is, I’m the one who owns it. Making demands?” He laughed through his nose. “I’ll do as I damn well please.” His cock pulled back out to the tip before slamming back in, making the bed lurch and hit the wall.

She swore she saw stars, a scream leaving her lips as he repeated it again. Deep, so fucking deep that she didn’t know what to do with herself.

“Where did my good whore go? I love that beg but-“ he gave another devastating thrust, making her pant, nails digging into his back roughly. “You turned into a brat. Lucky I need to empty my balls and you’ve got a perfect hole for it, or I’d take it away from you.”

Her grip was strong enough to break skin, nails clawing down the length of his back with primal need.

Harry groaned at the feeling, the burn adding to his arousal. He liked the pain she was inflicting upon him but needed to be closer, deeper.

Without much of a warning, he pulled out and flipped her around, slamming back into her with such force the bed frame smacked against the wall again.

“No more words, Princess? Already gone dumb on my cock?” Harry couldn’t stop his hips from pistoning in and out of her with force. The feeling of her milking him was far too good, he’d teased himself enough and it was time to give in. “Take it. Every, last, bit.” His voice grew dark, pushing himself up off of her so he could take in his view.

Beautiful supple skin ready to be marked in any way he pleased. Her ass was something he couldn’t resist. “Wanted to plug you up today, make you squirm till you begged for me to fill both of your holes.” Thwack. Harry paused to admire the trace left over on her skin. “I couldn’t wait. I knew you couldn’t either— filthy little slut. You’re dripping f’me.” He smirked, placing another heavy handed smack on the opposite cheek.

She didn’t know how good it would feel.

There had been a feeling. With how he had smacked her before, how he had held her a bit rough. She knew that she liked pain and liked to see him in a darker, dominant headspace- but she hadn’t expected to feel the stinging prickles on her cheek and have it travel down to her cunt, showing clearly now as he fucked into her. His smacks had made her moan, the garbled noise fueling him further. His fingers brushed over her hot skin gently and massaged the flesh as his cock pounded into her. A contrast to the heavy thrusts stealing her breath and the slamming of the headboard into the wall behind them.

“Fu-uck. I can’t- I….” She choked on her words as he shifted, one leg over her hip while he stayed between his thighs with the other one. Her ass was spread open with his hand, thumb pressing into her hole as she squealed and thrashed under him.

It was too much. Both her holes being filled, the jostling of her body, being tossed around with her face in the sheets, she came without permission. Screaming muffled into the fabric as her face was stained with sweat and tears, noises punched out of her as he didn’t let up.

If anything? It spurred him on.

The steady sound of the headboard smacking against the wall kept the two of them anchored in reality. They paid no mind to the slow cracking in the bed frame, instead, Harry found himself sinking deeper into a new headspace.

“Greedy girl,“ He growled lowly, his voice settling in the thick air of the room. The smell of sin was enough for him to feel high. “Can’t wait for permission?” Another smack reverberated throughout the room. “You‘ll give me another.” He demanded.

Bunny opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Unable to form a single sentence, she screamed while writhing beneath him. Everything felt fuzzy, her vision blurry, her body completely open. His words made her cunt clench, surprising herself with how much she could take. Her body was begging for more. Her head turned so she could catch her breath, attempting to stabilize herself with her grip on the sheets and mattress. It was no use.

“Knew you’d shut up.” Harry was feral. “Keep screaming, slut. This is exactly what you wanted wasn’t it?”

It was, it was exactly what the both of them wanted- and they wouldn’t be stopping.

Not until it was 3 in the morning, the bed had broken, and their muscles ached.

And a hole in the wall from the bed frame- but that would be a problem for when they woke up. So would Harry’s raised and bleeding scratch marks, the bruising on Y/N’s hips and wrists, the lack of voice she was going to have from screaming when he hit it just right- but that was tomorrow’s problem. Right now, it was time to relish in their unfiltered, unadulterated passion.

Who knew when they’d get this opportunity again?

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