#and there's just something about having chosen that brand | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strang3lov3 · 5 months

Text

Dirty Laundry

Joel's best kept secret is the washer and dryer he's not supposed to have. Your best kept secret is that you've been using that washer to get yourself off.

Tags - 18+, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, masturbation on a washing machine, dirty boxer sniffing (you fucking freak), fantasizing about a dirty old man, unprotected piv, creampie, curmudgeon joel talks you through knife safety, washing machine repairs, and overstim. 8k words, idk what the fuck happened. Thank you to @noxturnalpascal , @beefrobeefcal , and @papipascalispunk for helping me edit this monstrosity and @joelsgreys for letting me scream about washers and dryers for days <3 A/N - i have worked harder on this than my finals, but that should surprise no one. i only have one more left and then you should be seeing more of me this summer <3 i have a lot a lot a lot planned and I've been so excited to share new shit with you. Roman girlies, I haven't forgotten about you. He's up next. Anyway, you maniacs know what you’re here for, so please enjoy.

Joel’s best kept secret is his Whirlpool brand washer and dryer set, which is hidden deep in his basement. You stand before it now, loading your dirty laundry into it, using what is definitely too much of Joel’s detergent.

Perhaps it’s more accurate to say his washer and dryer set was his best kept secret, until you came along and forced his hand. Everything was fine, and then you showed up, both yourself and your basket of laundry soaking wet, leaving Joel with no choice but to lend you a hand. Biggest mistake of his life.

As great as Jackson is, it still comes up short sometimes. Not with everything; you’re beyond blessed to live in the safety of its walls. Just technologically, sometimes it can leave you missing the finer things. It's not Jackson’s fault society is twenty years into an apocalypse, thus running on twenty-plus year old appliances. The older ovens, refrigerators, and other appliances that were built in the seventies to the nineties or so are surprisingly doing alright, but the ones built when manufacturing began to take a turn for the worse around the later nineties and 2000s are beginning to crap out, especially the washers. God, you hate laundry day. The washers at the laundromat in Jackson always give you a hard time. Week after week, your chosen washer won’t start, or it’ll stop mid-cycle. The laundry attendant, Patti, often helps you wash your clothes by hand which is nice, but still frustrating for you both.

On a busy and gloomy Sunday a couple months back, you were lucky enough to pick one of the less temperamental washers and hardly had to fight or beg and plead with it to get it to wash your clothes. However, your luck ran out when it came time to dry, your dryer wouldn’t run. Refused to start, even with Patti’s help. Worse yet, every other dryer was in use at the moment. You were shit out of luck. Patti offered you a sympathetic smile and sent you home with a baggy full of clothes pins and a wagon to carry your basket of sopping wet clothes. The clothespins were a nice gesture, but didn’t help much as you didn’t have a clothesline. And - you had to laugh - most of them were broken. Oh dear, sweet Patti.

Once at home, you did your best to hang up your clothes on your porch, laying them out over the thick wooden railing, securing them with rocks. The wind was blowing something fierce that day, and then you felt it – a raindrop. And then another, and another. Before you knew it, you were caught in a torrential downpour, with your clothes blowing every which way. Working to gather your clothes as quickly as possible, you haphazardly chucked the rocks that were keeping them still in every direction, your neighbor Joel interrupting the task when he came outside and started to shout at you. Joel’s a man that can only be described as crotchety. A curmudgeon, even.

“The fuck are you throwing rocks at my window for?” he shouted, but you couldn’t hear him over the sound of the wind and the rain smacking your porch.

“What?” you yelled back, “Joel, I can’t hear you.”

“ROCKS,” he shouted again, “Why are you throwi–” Joel realized it was a lost cause then. He could see in your face that you couldn’t hear him, you looked puzzled and annoyed for a moment before you returned to throwing rocks and gathering clothes. “Fuck it,” he mumbled to himself. Through the pouring rain, he marched across both his and your lawns and right up the steps of your porch. “What are you doing?”

“I was at the laundromat and the dryer stopped working so Patti gave me clothespins but I don’t have a clothesline so I tried to lay them out on my porch with rocks so they could dry but then it started to ra–” Getting the picture, Joel had stopped listening to you and joined you in gathering your clothes tossing stones back into the rock edging surrounding your house. “What are you doing?” you asked.

“Nothin’, just– come on. Let’s go – we’re goin’ to my house,” he answered, dumping the last of your clothes into your basket.

“Why?”

Lightning shoots from a nearby cloud, with booming thunder following suit. Joel’s soaking wet, as are you. His hair was dark and stuck to his forehead, his thin t-shirt clung to his body, outlining his soft, pillowy tummy and belly button and his thick, muscular biceps. “Go, go, go,” Joel shouted, waving you away. “Just go. Move.” he grunted as he lifted up your laundry basket and hauled it across the grass in quick strides. He held the basket on his hip as he opened his door for you, guiding you inside with a push to your lower waist.

Your shoes squeaked as you followed Joel through his house. He took your basket down his basement stairs, “Be careful for me, stairs are steep,” he warned you, “Don’t need you crackin’ your skull open. Got enough shit to deal with.” It was sweet, knowing that he was looking out for you – even with the irritation lacing his tone.

You couldn’t believe your eyes as you saw what Joel had led you to. A washer and a dryer, olive green in color. He opened the door of the dryer and shoved your wet clothes inside it, then took off his own soaked shirt and pants and tossed them in too. “They’re clean,” he told you.

In another lifetime where the world doesn’t go to shit and fungus is the least of your problems, the mundane appliances in front of you would be the very last thing on your mind. You’d be focused on Joel, watching rivulets of water slide down his jaw, past his Adam’s apple and pool in the hollow of his throat. You’d be tracing the outline of his body with your eyes, following that thin line of hair that spreads down his lower stomach, disappearing under his boxers. You’d be eyeing his thick bulge and the way that if you squint, you could see the outline of his cock. But in this life, in this moment – where the world went to shit a long time ago – you’re more amazed by the washer and dryer he stands next to. “This is why I never see you at the laundromat? The whole time, you’ve had a washer and dryer?” you asked, astonished.

“M’not supposed to, but yeah,” Joel answered, shutting the dryer door before turning to you with his chin tilted down, eyebrows raised. Don’t you go tellin’ anyone, now.”

“I’m gonna tell Patti.”

Joel looked betrayed and puzzled. “I’m doin’ you a favor,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

“You want me to dry your clothes or not?” You crossed your arms and bit the inside of your cheek as you shrugged. “Oh, Christ,” Joel grumbled under his breath. “Why the hell would you go and rat me out?”

“Because, Joel, ” you began explaining, “All of the washers and dryers are breaking and you’re hoarding your own? I don’t think so – if everyone else has to share the washers, then you do too,” you scolded. “It’s selfish.”

“Life ain’t fair, sweetheart.” You stared at Joel for a moment before turning on your heel to go tattle on him, just like you swore you would. “Wait–” Joel grabbed your arm, stopping you. Despite being long gone from Boston QZ, Joel couldn’t quite shake those smuggling and bargaining habits of his. You were serious about this threat, and he knew it. You’d march your ass through the pouring rain to go snitch on him to Patti. And really, the worst that would’ve happened to Joel would be a scolding from Maria and the washer and dryer removed from his home and placed in the laundromat. It’s not like he’d be placed in a pillory and have rotten tomatoes thrown at him. But still. Joel liked his washer and dryer. He sighed. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything, Joel. I just want to better our community.”

Give me a break. “What do you want,” he repeated, his voice lower.

You pressed your lips in a thin line, eyeing those pretty olive green appliances of his. It’s not a far walk to Joel’s house… And you wouldn’t have to wait in line to wash your clothes behind twenty other people. You did want to better your community, that much was true. But you weren’t opposed to bettering your own life. “Let me use your washer and dryer. Whenever I want.”

Joel was quick to counter in a stern voice, “Twice a week, tops.”

“Three times,” you tried.

“Once,” Joel lowered his offer and then looked at you with his eyes squinted, his head cocked to the side. “Who does laundry three times a week?”

It was a fair point. Even with your very own washer and dryer, you wouldn’t do that much laundry. “Fine. Twice,” you agreed, and Joel held out his hand for you to take and you shook on it. His palm was warm and calloused, his grip firm. In that moment you met his eyes, taking in the beauty of his face. Those sparkling, big brown eyes and the beautiful curve of his aquiline nose. Your eyes traveled lower still, and it hit you both at that moment - the realization that Joel was wearing nothing but his boxers, and that you were still shivering in your cold, wet clothes. Joel dropped your hand quickly and grabbed a clean t-shirt from one of his own laundry baskets on top of the dryer. “Here. You can change into this and toss your clothes in there too, f’ya want.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly, taking the shirt from his hand. “Do you have something to wear?”

“I’m a little behind on laundry, actually…” Joel trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. You scoffed and chuckled at that. The luxury of his very own washer and dryer, right in the comfort of his home, and Joel had the audacity to be behind on laundry. “Uhh, anyway. You just turn the knob on the dryer to ‘high’ and press the start button. I’ll give ya some privacy to change, you can meet me upstairs when you’re done,” he said, and then shuffled past you.

Once Joel was up the stairs, you took off your clothes and put them in with the rest of the clothing in the dryer. You changed into Joel’s t-shirt, the fabric was soft with time and many wearings, and it smelled like him despite being washed. It was a muted teal in color, littered with a couple of bleach stains here and there. You liked it.

Upstairs, Joel made a couple of mugs of hot tea to warm you both up. “Honey?”

“Yeah, Joel?”

“N- no, like…Was askin’ f’ya wanted honey in your tea.”

“Oh.” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. “Y– yes please. Thank you.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks. What a stupid thing to say. You watched as Joel stirred a bit of honey into your cup of tea, smirking as he then handed you the mug. Asshole. “Thought you were a coffee drinker,” you mused awkwardly, attempting to change the subject after taking a sip of the hot liquid, “You like tea?”

Joel grimaced in disgust as he took a sip of his own tea. “No. Just tryin’ to be polite for ya.”

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it, you know,” you smiled into your mug.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Aaand there it is. Curmudgeon Joel was back, Neighborly Joel never lasted long anyway.

You sat on Joel’s couch, warming up with your cup of tea. Joel had noticed goosebumps on your thighs and pulled a blanket over your lap. He sat next to you with his mug steaming in his hands and just stared at you, not even realizing how deeply he was admiring the way his shirt hugged your curves just right, highlighting all the right parts of you. He jolted when he felt his cock thicken in his boxers, spilling his scalding hot tea all over his bare thighs. “God bless it,” he swore. Without thinking, he pulled the blanket from your legs and covered his own lap to hide his growing erection from you.

“Joel, what the fuck?”

“Nothin’. Just– m’cold,” he lied. “Jesus fuckin’- just - c’mere,” Joel huffed as he patted the spot next to him and urged you closer, then laid the blanket back over your legs. You sat shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh as you sipped your tea and Joel’s went cold. Dork.

Moments passed. You sat in silence, the only sound was the rain pounding against Joel’s windows as your heart fluttered in anxiety, or maybe excitement. You might’ve even called it butterflies in your tummy. But you knew better. It was just the close proximity to Joel. And the fact that you were wearing his shirt, and he was practically naked. All of it pretty insignificant, honestly. It was basically nothing.

Joel finally spoke first, “Was thinkin’ it’d be best if you’d come by at night, when I’m on patrol or somethin’. Nobody’ll see you with your laundry and it’ll stay our lil’ secret, yeah?” You nodded, still a little bashful with everything that had happened. You aren’t often like that. It’s cute, Joel thought. “An’ you can use my detergent and whatnot. Whatever you need, s’yours.”

“Thank–” an especially bright flash of lightning followed by nearly deafening thunder interrupted you. You startled and sort of hurled yourself closer to Joel, grabbed his forearm and held it tight. It was just a reflex, probably. Basically nothing.

“It’s just a storm, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna bite ya,” Joel teases with a grin.

“Oh, shut up,” you let go of his arm and missed the warmth of his skin beneath your palm almost immediately, but your longing for his touch was quickly soothed. Joel wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his side as you listened to the sounds of the storm together. You stayed like that, inhaling the sweet scent of him, masculine and heady. He smelled like the rain, too, and the hair on his underarms tickled your skin but you didn’t mind. When your laundry dried, he carried your basket home for you. You thanked him and moved to shut the door, but Joel stopped it with his hand, “Washer can be sorta delicate sometimes, so just be careful with it.”

“Noted,” you replied. “See ya, Joel.”

“See ya, hon.”

A few nights later, you returned to his home with your basket of laundry. Joel was gone, on patrol as he often is at night. Doing the laundry was uneventful , even though you probably used too much detergent, but whatever. Joel didn’t have to know. The next time you did laundry, Joel was at home. He told you not to worry about whichever nights you come by, that he’d always leave the washer and dryer empty in the evenings for you to use. He was even generous enough to make you dinner that night.

It all worked out. Joel’s washer and dryer stayed unknown to the rest of Jackson, and your laundry was cleaned in a much more efficient way. There really weren’t any flaws in your and Joel’s system, as long as you didn’t include the one laundry night where Joel was gone on patrol again, but had come home just as you were leaving. You bumped into him accidentally, causing a lacy pair of your panties to fall right out of your basket and onto his shoe. He bent down and picked them up for you, not even realizing what he was holding. “Oh. My bad,” he blushed, once he recognized the garment. “I’ll just…” and put them back in your basket. From that point forward, he was always careful to stay out of your way. Aside from that it really did all work out.

After loading your clothes into Joel’s washer, you shut the washer door and turn it on. You make your way upstairs and there’s a note on Joel’s table – Leftovers in the fridge are yours if you wanna heat them up.

Opening the fridge, you see a neatly packed container of what looks to be chicken and vegetables. Yum. God, you’ll miss these vegetables when it gets cold again. You take advantage of the offer and heat up the food in a pan on the stovetop, humming to yourself as you stir the food to keep it from burning. A light flickers above you. Weird. It flickers again, and then finally goes out. But it’s no big deal, you’ve seen in Joel’s basement that above the washer and dryer is a shelf full of supplies and you know there’s a couple of bulbs there. You go back downstairs where the washer hums, working its way through the cycle.

“Hmm,” you hum to yourself. You’d never quite realized just how high up that supply shelf is. And the bulbs are in the middle of the shelf, so there’s no good way to get them without climbing on top of the washer, which Joel would probably kill you for doing. He did ask that you be careful with his fragile washer, after all. Whatever. It’ll take like six seconds, tops. You hoist yourself on the washer and first try kneeling on it to see if you can reach one of the bulbs. No luck. You stand on your feet then, raising yourself up carefully, slowly, feeling the washer shake slightly beneath your feet. Joel would be absolutely irate if he saw you like this now. When you finally grab one of those light bulbs, you carefully lower yourself to a seated position on the washer to catch your breath. You’re not usually prone to vertigo, but Joel’s wobbly washer brought the dizziness on. You know better than to try and move right now, so you just settle yourself down to avoid fainting.

The washer vibrates under the flesh of your thighs. It’s a gentle sensation, lessened by the angle you’re sitting at. But if you focus really hard, you can feel it in your core. Curious, you spread your legs and turn to the corner of the washer, tilting your hips to the floor, and oh, this is it. You’re not even thinking about potential consequences when you shimmy your shorts and panties off, then find that sweet spot once more. The metal of the washer is cool against you as it vibrates, sending sweet little buzzes through your hot core. You’re not quite wet yet, just enjoying the sensation. Letting it build and build, seeing where it can get you. You let your mind wander, not really thinking about much in particular. The low hum of the washer fades away in your mind and you’re starting to become wet. Shifting your position, you extend your arm to find something to grab onto when you feel fabric. Joel’s clothes. He’s still a slacker with keeping up on his dirty laundry. Usually it would irritate you. It does irritate you, this exorbitant waste of an advantage he has. You look at the shirt in your hand, the same shirt Joel had lent you. You think back to that first time you did laundry here at Joel’s, how he sat next to you nearly naked. The feel of his skin and the smell of him - sweat and rain and musk. And Joel being the beautiful, incognizant man he is, probably had zero clue of how sexy he looked. Or smelled, for that matter.

With Joel now on your mind and his shirt in your hand, you decide to experiment, create a better ambiance. You keep those images of him in your mind, those feelings too. You remember the low timbre of his voice, the rain splashing against the windows, the weight of his arm wrapped around your shoulders. And with his dirty t-shirt clutched in your fist and its armpit pressed against your nose you remember his scent. Smell is a powerful sense, closely linked to memory and emotion, his shirt and what it’s doing to you is a testament to that fact. Legs spread wide, your hips angled down with your clit pressed to the corner of Joel’s washer, the machine vibrating under you as you inhale his scent deeply - you’re back in that memory. And then some.

In your mind, your back on Joel’s couch. You can smell him, feel him, and if you really concentrate, you can even taste him. You’re on your knees and he’s drawing lazy patterns on your back as you suck his cock and fondle his balls, and he’s moaning, grunting and whimpering your name. He tastes like he smells, heady and all masculine. He grips the back of your neck and lifts you up, guides you to straddle his hips. His forehead pressed against yours, he notches the tip of his cock inside you and pulls you down slowly, careful so as not to hurt you but it does, of course it does. Not that you mind, you love the stretch and the ache of his thickness splitting you in two. You rock yourself, grind your clit against that unruly patch of hair at the base of his cock. You’re coming, you’re coming, you’re coming.

You’re coming. Loudly, whimpering Joel’s name as you rut against the vibrating machine. As you finish, so does the washer. It sings you a little chiming song indicating the load is done washing. You can’t help but giggle at that as you bask in the discovery of this fortuitous delight. You’ve got private access to a washer and dryer and a vibrator now too? Lucky, lucky, lucky.

God, Joel’s shirt smells good. You inhale it deeply, wondering if he wears cologne. It smells almost woodsy…smokey, even.

Fuck. You’re smelling smoke.

You pull on your pants and sprint up the steps, racing to Joel’s kitchen only to find that the chicken and veggies you were heating up are no more. They’re black and shriveled, cemented to the stainless steel pan, and there’s no salvaging that. No amount of scrubbing can erase your masturbatory mistake. Fuck, Joel’s gonna kill you. Your only choice is to conceal the evidence. Surreptitiously, you take the pan and hide it under a bush outside Joel’s backdoor.

You’ll be more responsible next time - yes, there absolutely will be a next time. Gas off before you get off.

The next time came and went. And the time after that, and the one after that. Laundry was always your least favorite chore, but with access to Joel’s washer and dryer and this new trick up your sleeve, it’s not so bad. Getting off on Joel’s washer has become a weekly thing and it’s been lovely, relieving, dirty, and exciting, but you’d be lying if you were to say it’s been perfectly fine the whole time.

You’ve been abusing the poor machine. It’s no secret. You get every bang for your buck out of the washer, taking full advantage of Joel’s twice a week offer and then some. Some nights you’ll sneak over and do an extra load, wash a blanket or something just to make the washer run for your masturbatory purposes. And so, the vibrating sensation the machine produces has begun to weaken. In order to compensate, you’ve been rocking yourself harder on it, which probably isn’t helping. But it’s still washing your clothes, right?

…Yes. Mostly. It still washes, but it’s become sort of finicky. And the door doesn’t quite shut the way it used to, and it makes an odd noise now that it never made before.

Tonight you’re at Joel’s doing a double load of laundry. There were no ulterior motives on your part when you came over, honestly and truly. Your first load is drying, the second load is in the washer. Joel’s home tonight, he’s gonna cook you dinner like he always does when he’s around. For such a grouch, he wears his heart on his sleeve.

It would be more accurate to say you’re cooking dinner together. Joel came home with a basket full of fresh vegetables from the market and actually put you to work, his reasoning being that he was starving and wanted dinner ready yesterday, and that having your help cutting up the vegetables for the meal he was making would have dinner ready that much sooner. He places a cutting board in front of you and hands you a knife, “Chop chop,” he says, then laughs at his own pun as he rifles through some cabinets. “Missin’ a saucepan…” he mumbles to himself. Oops.

You start by peeling the carrots. As you begin to chop them, you realize he didn’t give you any sort of instruction. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon.”

“How small do you need me to cut the carrots?”

“Uhhhh,” he thinks. “Lemme see.” Joel turns around and watches you with a look of disappointment and repulsion painting his features. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What?” you ask defensively.

“Why are you tryin’ to cut off your fingers?”

You look down at your hand holding the carrot and your other hand holding the knife, then up at Joel. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I’m not trying to cut off my fingers.”

“Sure looks like it to me. Is that always how you handle a knife?”

“Yeah,” you reply, “Why?”

“‘Cause you’re gonna cut off your damn fingers, dammit, that’s why. C’mere,” Joel stands behind you where you stand at the island, then lifts up your left hand and curls your fingers underneath themselves. “Keep your fingers like this,” he instructs. “Holdin’ your fingers out flat like that are a sure fire way to cut ‘em off. Now show me how you chop.”

With your fingers in the proper position now, you begin to cut the carrots. They wobble beneath you, you hate the way Joel has you holding them. “This is uncomfortable,” you tell him.

“You know what’s more uncomfortable? Missin’ fingers. Keep goin’.” You groan but keep chopping per his demand. He’s pressed against your back, one of his palms lays flat against the countertop, semi caging you in as he watches you work. “Okay, okay, stop. You’re makin’ me nervous. Gimme this.” Joel wraps his hand around yours on the handle of the knife. He moves the knife for you, cutting the carrot slowly, your hand securely in his. “You’re liftin’ the knife too much, sweetheart. Just rock it back and forth for me. Just like this,” he whispers, showing you how he rocks the knife in a fluid motion to cut the carrots. His hands are warm, his grip on your hands is firm. His breath is hot and tickles your ear, sending goosebumps erupting down the back of your neck. He chops the carrots quietly, and you feel him against you - the rise and fall of his chest and tummy with each inhale and exhale he takes, his wiry scruff kissing the side of your face. “That’s it,” he praises, “Good girl.”

Fuck. His words go right to your core. As if him holding your hands and caging you in to teach you how to cut vegetables wasn’t enough, he had to call you ‘good girl’ as well. That had to be deliberate on his part, you’re almost certain of it. And now you’ve got to pay his washer another visit. His fault, honestly. “Laundry,” you blurt out, pushing his hands off of yours and shrinking away from his hold. “Sorry. Gotta check the laundry.”

“Oh. Alright, then.” Joel watches you pace down the basement stairs and listens to you pretend to check on your clothes, opening and shutting the washer and dryer doors. He’s waiting for you to come upstairs, but you never do. “You comin’ upstairs?”

“Yeah, just a minute,” you call back.

“There’s spiders down there, you know. Big an’ fuzzy too.”

“I’ll be fine,” you yell as you unbutton your shorts and pull them down your legs. “I don’t mind them.”

Your reply immediately has Joel feeling suspicious of you. Even a mention of a mere ant should have sent you running into his arms and pleading with him to get rid of it. On more than one occasion, Joel’s woken up to you pounding on his door in the middle of the night begging him to come kill a spider that’s in your bedroom. And he always does, of course, even when the spider is miniscule and simply minding its business in a corner somewhere. He’ll scoop it into the palm of his hand and set it outside in a bed of flowers, call you a wimp and be on his merry way, grumbling the entire walk home. He wonders why the hell you’re so brave all of a sudden.

A loud, clunking noise interrupts the silence. “Oh, fuck,” you swear. And Joel’s deaf, but not deaf enough to not hear you. “What was that?” he calls from up the stairs.

“Nothing!”

Joel knows it wasn’t nothing, it certainly didn’t sound like nothing. You quickly pull your shorts and panties back on when you hear him stomping down the stairs to investigate. Wracking your brain to think of a lie to tell Joel, you realize you’re fucked, utterly and completely. It would’ve been more appropriate to think of one before now, probably around the time the washer started to make weird noises. Now you’re faced with god knows what consequences.

Joel greets you with a puzzled and angered expression. “What the hell happened?”

“I d– I don’t know. Just something… Happened, I guess,” you stutter. Subtly, you stuff the used pair of his boxers you were smelling down the back of your shorts to hide the evidence of your even dirtier secret. Joel sees that you’re avoiding eye contact, looking up and away, scratching your head. The silence hangs heavily in the air and Joel sees the guilt on your face and that your shorts are undone for some reason. “You have ten seconds to tell me the truth before this becomes a much worse day for us both.”

“Nothing happened–”

“Nine, eight…”

You fold instantly. “I sit on it,” you confess, Joel exhales in frustration. “Sit? As in… this is a regular occurrence, you’ve been sittin’ on my washer,” Joel asserts. You nod in confirmation. “Why.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, another lie.

“Well, how much have you been sittin’ on it?”

“Just like…a lot, I guess.” You look down at your feet, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“Why?” he asks again.

“It…uhh…sort of…” you mumble, picking at your fingernails.

“Sort of what?”

“Vibrates.”

Joel’s face falls at the admission. “You’re not serious,” he says, but he knows you are. “Oh my god.”

“Stranger things have happened, right?” Your voice wavers as you try to soften the blow with a joke.

“Unbelievable,” Joel pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “No. Stranger things than you have not happened, sweetheart.” After taking a few deep breaths, he pushes you to the side and reaches for the shelf above the washer for a toolbox. He takes out a putty knife and wriggles the front of the washer off, then drops to his knees to inspect the washer. “Did I not ask you to be careful with it?” It’s a rhetorical question. Joel groans when he sees what’s broken inside of the washer.

“What is it?”

“Belt’s broken,” he answers. “You’re lucky s’fixable.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well, it’s good you can fix it, right?”

“Oh, no. You are fixin’ it, my darlin’. You broke it.”

Joel’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re putting his washer back together. “I don’t know how,” you tell him. You’ll make it up to him in any other way than this, but there’s no way he’s serious. Besides, he’s now the first to know that your track record with washers isn’t to be trusted.

“I’ll walk you through it,” Joel replies plainly. “Get down there. On your knees, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes at him. “Now,” he says, unimpressed with your defiance.

You drop to your knees in front of the washer, looking for the broken belt that Joel speaks of. You find one of the big and fuzzy spiders he was talking about instead. “Jesus!” you yelp, launching backwards and nearly knocking Joel over in the process “There’s a spider, Joel - kill it, kill it, kill it, Joel - kill it, please,” you beg.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, it’s harmless.”

“Joel!”

Joel nudges you out of the way to find the spider sitting right at the bottom of the washer. He scoops it into his hand, then holds it in front of you, “I thought you said you didn’t mind ‘em,” he taunts.

“I lied. Get it away from me,” You shove him away from you, and he clutches the spider more carefully in his hands, laughing.

“Yeah, I know you lied. You’re very bad at it,” Joel opens one of the basement’s egress windows and sends the spider on its way, then closes it and returns to you, first grabbing what looks to be a replacement belt for his washer from a nearby shelf. Leave it to Joel to have the most convenient yet obscure supplies right in his basement twenty years into an apocalypse. “Back to work.” You’re in front of the washer once more, and Joel takes his seat right behind you. “See that black belt at the bottom of the drum?”

“No.”

“This thing here,” he points at it with his finger. “Take it off,” You reach for the belt and tug on it a bit, “Gotta wiggle it a bit,” following his instruction, you wiggle the belt and it falls off the drum. “Attagirl. Now put this one on,” he hands you the new belt and takes the old one from you. “S’gonna be snug.”

You struggle to stretch the rubber over the drum and it snaps your hands when it slips. “Fuck.”

“Keep tryin’. Put some elbow grease into it, hon,” Joel hovers over your shoulder, just as he did earlier in the kitchen. “M’just checkin’ to make sure you got it lined up properly,” Joel tugs on the rubber belt, making sure it’s sitting where it needs to. “So tell me again how long you been doin it for,” he whispers. “Long time?”

You answer cautiously, “Uhhh…a while now, I guess.”

“Yeah, I figured. S’it feel good?”

The question throws you off, makes you nervous. But his voice is low and gravelly, and his tone isn’t pointed or accusatory. He seems curious, but for what reason, you’re not quite sure yet. “It does.”

“Better than your fingers?” Joel tightens the belt a bit and leans back. He’s watching you, but you can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes. You gasp when you feel his warm palm sliding underneath your shorts. “What the–” Oh, fuck. Joel found his pair of boxers. He holds the fabric in his hands, a knowing grin on his lips. “These are mine. What’re you doin’ with my dirty boxers?” he asks. He doesn’t allow you time to stutter out an excuse. “You’re a dirty lil’ bird, aren’t you?”

“Joel.”

He tosses his pair of boxers onto the dryer and whispers in your ear again, “I asked you somethin’. My washer feel better than your fingers?”

“Yeah,” you answer, “Better.”

Joel hums in amusement. He slides his hand down the front of your pants, still unbuttoned from earlier. “Saved me the trouble, didn’t ya, sweetheart?” he breathes. Your breath hitches when his fingers find your mound, as he toys with the curls there. He traces over your lips, then dips a finger between them, circling your hole, then circles your clit. “Better than mine?” he asks, dipping a finger into your center and you moan. He holds one hand on your hip as the other pumps in and out of your center, and you lean back into his chest, relaxing with his touch. You sigh deeply. “Don’t get all cozy on me, now. You ain’t done. Gotta put the front of the washer back on, should just click right into place.”

Joel pulls his hand away from you so you can lift the front piece of the washer. “It’s not–” you complain, struggling to click it into place the way Joel says it should. You push and push, but it doesn’t budge. “Joel, it’s not–”

“It will. Just try.”

“I am,” you argue, shoving it once more but to no avail. You’ve grown frustrated by his washer, by the task Joel bestowed upon you in fixing it, and his teasing, too. In a fit of anger, you stand up and kick it.

“Hey, easy,” Joel scolds. “Look, like this,” Magically, the front piece of the washer fits right into place, just like he said it would. He does nothing different than what you did, it just works out for him. Of course it does. “You’re impatient, huh?” he murmurs, moving behind you. You gasp when you feel his hands on your hips, tugging the fabric of both your shorts and your panties down to your ankles, he helps you out of the garments and tosses them elsewhere. His hands are on your hips again, this time guiding you, whispering, “Back, back,” as he positions you where he needs you, spreading your legs apart. You’re leaning on his washer and he’s on his knees behind you, using his nose to tease and part your slick folds. He inhales you deeply, taking in the sweet scent of your arousal before he tastes you. He traces your lips with a pointed tongue, up and down, before he dips his tongue into your heat, savoring you.

“How ‘bout my tongue?” he purrs, whispering against your skin. You don’t answer, and it’s not like you could anyway, with the way he devours you. His arms are wrapped around your legs, his fingertips are digging harshly into your thighs like he means to bruise you, tear the flesh off your bones even. It’s possessive in nature, but not abusive or aggressive. You know his actions aren’t borne of anything except pure pleasure and you indulge in it, in him. He moves slow like honey as he tastes you languidly, kissing you. He laps your velvety heat, his tongue teasing all of your sensitive, slick flesh. Now and then the wiry hairs of his beard will tease and scratch your inner thighs, a sensation that tickles you and rubs you raw all the same. “Oh my god,” you moan, reaching behind yourself to take hold of his head, fingers tangling in his graying curls and waves. “Joel, oh my god.”

Joel takes your lack of a real answer to his question as a no, his washer pales in comparison to his tongue. Good. He bets you’ve fantasized about him, all those times you’ve used his washer for those needs of yours besides washing your clothes. And he bets that you probably grind yourself on it, picturing it’s his warm flesh beneath you and not the cold metal of the machine. He’d be right. He sucks your clit, circling the sensitive bud with his tongue. He nips at your folds, sucking one, then the other between his plump lips, then focuses his attention back at your clit. You’re moaning his name, the only word you know anymore. Joel keeps you still, held tight in his arms so that you can’t push your ass back and grind against his mouth like he knows you’re fighting to do. All you can do is take it, feel his perfect aquiline nose tease between your cheeks. He’s buried himself face first in your most private place as he consumes you voraciously, his tongue flicking and swirling and painting you. You’re biting into your own arm, seeing stars as you come on his tongue. It’s an elusive sort of orgasm, the kind where you don’t exactly know where it begins and it ends. All you know is that you’re sensitive, so fucking sensitive and Joel is relentless. Your knees buckle as he toys with your clit, gives you a break for a moment before he’s right back there again, continuing to eat you. He keeps going and going, repeating the actions over and over again just to make you cry and beg, “Stop - please - I can’t, I can’t, Joel. T-too much.”

“Know it’s too much, sweetheart, s’why I’m doin it,” Joel coos. But he obliges, places one last kiss to your heat, soaked by his spit and your own arousal before he stands up behind you. He wraps one arm around your stomach, pulling himself close to you. You can feel his hard cock against your ass, separated only by his denim as he uses his other hand to turn your face to the side, meeting him beside you. He kisses you, tracing his tongue along the seam of your lips, licking into your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, then feel his hand leave your face to reach for his fly. You hear him unzip his jeans slowly, and then he’s pulling his cock out, still kissing you as he lines up with you, first parting your thighs with a gentle nudge of his knee before notching his tip at your entrance. He finally pulls his mouth away from yours and gently forces your chest down toward the washer. He pushes himself into you, careful so as not to hurt you but deliberately so that you still feel that ache, the stretch of his thick cock separating your insides. Joel continues holding your body close to his as he reaches for your hand with his free one, interlacing his fingers in between your own. “How about my cock, sweetheart? You like it better, worse?” he whispers, kissing, nipping at your ear in between words. He pulls out of you nearly all the way, then pushes back into your dripping cunt.

You try to answer, “Bet - oh, ahhh,”

Joel chuckles at the way he’s reduced you to nothing but broken syllables and moans. “Ohhh, listen to you. I think it’s better, huh? S’that what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” You nod frantically. “Yeah, I know, beautiful.”

His pace is slower to start, but it builds in quick time. You can feel he’s fighting with himself to be more gentle than he actually wants to be, his thrusts sloppier than he intends, like he’s losing himself in you. You’re lost in him, lost in the moment all the same. You take it all in, the lewd and obscene sounds of the pleasure he creates with you - his thighs slapping against yours and the gushing of your cunt on his cock. Your moans, your cries, all babbling nonsense. And Joel’s deep breaths in and out, shaky and stuttering as he does it. His grunts and his swearing, a whimper here and there if you listen closely. He fills you up perfectly, hits that sweet spot deep inside you over and over and over…

“You coulda had me like this the whole time,” he pants, “Didn’t have to go an’ break my washer f’ya needed somethin’ more than those fingers of yours, sweetheart. Know you been needin’ some lovin’.” He reaches for your breasts, squeezing and groping the flesh, twisting your nipples and smirking when you twitch and whine. “All you had to do was ask.” You don’t respond, but he doesn’t expect you to anyway. What he did expect, however, were your moans of displeasure as he pulls out of you. He knows, oh, he knows how empty you must feel, you poor thing. He’ll soothe that. He flips you around, seats you on his washer. “I’m gonna make you come again,” he promises, “I’m gonna watch.”

“Too much, Joel, I can’t,” you cry. You want to come again, really. But you don’t think you have it in you, still so worked up, overstimulated by the endless teasing of his tongue on your pussy.

“Oh, don’t cry. You can do it, hon. You can take it,” he says, “Open up those legs for me, darlin’.” Joel pushes your trembling legs wide so he can slot his hips between them, then wraps your legs around his waist before sliding his cock into you once more. He thrusts just once, rather harshly, before he’s met with another rather loud noise from the washer. Joel halts and scratches the back of his neck. God, he hopes he didn’t just do it in. “Probably shouldn’t…uh…”

“Yeah,” you agree.

“Did you use my dryer too?”

“Duh,” you answer. “How else would I dry my clothes?”

Joel rolls his eyes, “No, smartass. Were you usin’ it for your dirty work, is what I’m askin’.”

“No.”

Still inside you, Joel slides you over to his dryer. “Good girl. Poor washer’s been abused plenty by you already.”

“But I will,” You whisper defiantly under your breath, wrapping your arms around his neck as he adjusts.

“Wrong ear, sweetheart. My right one’s deaf. I heard that loud and clear.”

Joel’s back to fucking you in an instant. He wastes no time in making good on his promise, thumbing your clit as he rolls his hips into you. “See, look at you. Takin’ me just fine,” he praises.The way you squirm and take your shallow little breaths fills him with satisfaction and delight. He knows this isn’t easy, that you’re tired and sore and overstimulated. He’ll be done with you soon. “Come with me, wanna feel you come with me, sweetheart,” he says. “Focus here, eyes on me. You’re gonna come with me.”

It’s a few moments of Joel painting your clit with those tight, steadied circles as he fucks you hard and deep. There’s a push and pull to it, where you’re not sure who this is for - yourself or Joel. Just like before, you’re not sure where it starts and stops, but you’re there. God it’s intense, you’re gonna break and you know it. Joel’s got his palm on the back of your neck, squeezing you. His jaw clenches and he’s coming undone first, but he never loses focus on you. His thrusts stutter as he milks himself in you but doesn't yet stop - he’s making sure you’re gonna come. “C’mon baby, c’mon. Give it to me,” he says. “One more for me. Last one.”

His words are all it takes. You whimper and moan, cry his name as you find your climax. Release washes over you the way waves crash onto sand - it’s repeated, the way the tides push and pull. Deafening. Powerful.

But there’s a calmness yet. The rolling of his hips slows, slows, stops. He presses his damp forehead against yours, breathing deeply. “You’re okay,” he murmurs. “You’re okay?”

You nod and smile, “Yeah, I’m good.” He smiles with you and helps you off of the dryer. Joel finds your clothes and dresses you in them, steadying your shaky legs.

Joel tentatively restarts the washer. It chugs a bit, but makes all the right noises and he breathes a sigh of relief. You’re a bit startled when he takes you by the arm and marches you up the stairs. “New rule,” he says, “You stay with me when your clothes are washin’.”

You bite your lip to hide your guilty smirk. “Yes. Joel.”

“And I still need you to cut them veggies for me, too.”

I struggled heavily with this fic, comments and reblogs would be much appreciated if you were feeling so inclined🙏 they keep me motivated and I look back at your words when I’m writing to remember that I’m capable of pleasing you all

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller fanfic #joel the last of us #tlou joel #pedro pascal x reader

4K notes · View notes

srjlvr · 1 year

Text

꒦꒷ enhypen ! the moment when fans started shipping them with you <3

idol-ot7!enhypen x idol-fem!reader .. fluff .. no warnings<3 not proofread!!

ε ї з — heeseung

fans started to notice how heeseung kept stealing glances at you when you were busy interviewing them.

you, a new mc in a rookie group got all heeseung’s attention. you’re giggling? heeseung giggles too. you’re smiling? heeseung’s smiling too.

“how do you feel about your comeback?” you made an eye contact with heeseung and your heart skipped a beat. “um…” he was left speechless because of the short interaction you both had.

jungwon took the mic and giggled, speaking instead of the stressed heeseung and making a joke about heeseung being too tired to focus.

fans couldn’t ignore how heeseung kept looking at you with a smile all smeared over his face, as if he just now fell in love with you.

not even a day passed after the interview and all the fans would go crazy with videos and tweets about you two.

“have you seen the way he looked at y/n? i swear we were all just witnessing this man falling in love with her for the first time”

ε ї з — jay

one of the things that your fans loved the most was to watch your lives and ask you questions.

you decided to do one on valentines day and one of the most common questions was if you got something for valentines day when you were younger.

“if i got something for valentines day…?” you repeated the question, thinking about your school days, “i did actually! it was a flower bouquet and a few chocolates with a cute little note on the side” you giggled remembering the cute gift you got.

“jay from enhypen was my classmate back then” you added right after.

fans went feral, making up conspiracies about you and jay being classmates and jay being the one who got you the valentine gift.

he went on live at the same day and his whole live was filled with questions about you and valentines day. he just giggled and confirmed that you and him indeed were classmates, no mentions of the valentines day gift at all.

that didn’t stop the fans from shipping the both of you and videos from yours and his lives became trending.

“jay and y/n confirmed being classmates! y/n also spoke about getting a valentines day gift and right after that she mentioned jay! if you’re asking me, jay has been crushing on her for a while ;)”

ε ї з — jake

a new jake en-log was uploaded and fans rushed to view jake’s vlog. jake was so excited to film a new en-log episode so he filmed everything literally everywhere.

he made a small tour in his room. completely forgetting your signed album that was hanged on his wall.

it didn’t help at all when you also posted a vlog and behind your room wall was an enhypen album, signed by jake—even though it was far, fans could recognize his signature

you and him once met, and he brought you one of your albums to sign on it, and you brought him one of enhypen’s album for him to sign on it.

both of your fans went crazy with theories about the two of you dating and giving each other signed albums as gifts.

“did you see their albums just hanging there on their room wall? they’re fr a power couple😭 jake teach us ways to get y/n signature on one of her albums!!”

ε ї з — sunghoon

a rumor has been going around lately that you and sunghoon were chosen as the new ambassadors for a famous brand.

the rumor kept on going until a new photoshoot came out, and not-so-surprisingly, it was a new photoshoot of you and sunghoon together, presenting you as the new ambassadors for the brand.

you and sunghoon stood extremely close to each other, posing extremely close to each other as well. you had an interaction that fans has never seen before between a fem and a male idols.

a few days later the brand posted a short video of the behind the scenes, showing the both of you really close to each other with such a good interaction between you two.

fans went insane, making your photoshoot trending everywhere and talking about it all the time. especially shipping the both of you nonstop.

“have you seen y/n’s and sunghoon’s photoshoot?? I’M GOING CRAZY OVER HERE!! i’m thankful for that brand for making them the new ambassadors and we better get new photoshoot every month🙇‍♀️”

ε ї з — sunoo

interaction between idols on award shows isn’t something new so are the reactions to other groups.

sunoo is already known as the king of kpop, who knows all the trends and new kpop songs. to other fans it wasn’t new when he was cheering for you when it was your performance, to his fans it wasn’t the case.

sunoo himself got up and danced to your performance, he cheered and chant for you, it’s something they’ve never seen before, even his members looked surprised.

you also went down the stage and interacted with other idols, when you got to sunoo, both of you danced together and had the cutest interaction ever.

the other fans started to notice the cute interaction and agreed that this is something they’ve never seen before.

sunoo and you went trending as the new kpop queen and king without even trying to do so.

“did you see their interaction and how he cheered? YOU CANT TELL ME THEY’RE NOT DATING!!😭😭 HE’S SUCH A SUPPORTIVE BOYFRIEND”

ε ї з — jungwon

new MCs were introduced, aka you and jungwon. the fans weren’t expecting for much interaction between you two. they mostly thought it’d be so awkward between you two at start.

it wasn’t the case at all. the minute the camera started rolling, you and jungwon had the best interaction MCs has ever had.

both of you looked a bit more than comfortable around each other, making jokes and playfully pushing the other.

the idols you interviewed together looked shocked mostly from the way the you acted around each other, they could’ve swore you two are dating but hiding it.

even you were asked multiple times by your idol friends you interviewed if you and jungwon are dating. the both of you left the whole kpop community in shock.

you made fans wait impatiently every week to see new interactions of the both of you, you got the kpop community wrapped around your fingers. both of you even won as the couple of kpop in one of the award shows.

“did you see their new interaction today? I CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT WEEK HONESTLY!! if they’re not dating then i don’t believe in love at all”

ε ї з — ni-ki

you wanted to get some coffee since you craved for some. you argued with your manager and told her you’d be careful enough to not get recognized and she let you off.

ni-ki at the same time lost in a rock paper scissor game and had to buy coffee to all the members.

you both happened to go to the same coffee place without even knowing.

he accidentally bumped into you and the both of you had a short interaction of a ‘sorry’ and ‘it’s okay, no worries’ type of thing.

the fans who recognized you from afar and were respectful enough to not bother you, took some pictures of your short interaction with ni-ki, which made his fans and your fans go wild.

they immediately started shipping you, thinking that you were on your way to have a date together and didn’t have much interaction because you both were in public.

“they won’t go to the same place for no reason!! they probably bought some coffee and went on a date in a more private place after that!! they look so cute!!😭😭”

PERM TAG-LIST ; @sungwhoonz @ohdudehesflirting @unlikelysublimekryptonite @deobiis @manooffline @miumiuoi @in-somnias-world @lovelovelovebts

5K notes · View notes

lustspren · 7 months

Text

D.A | Con te partirò ft Hanni

length: 12.8k words✦

Hanni & Male Reader.

Diamond Eyes AU.

genres: sub! Hanni, blowjob, oral sex, hard sex, breeding, daddy kink, creampie, fluffy, anal, car sex, love making ✧

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Did you need to rent a Ferrari? Absolutely not. Would it be worth it? Absolutely yes.

So many months of hard work streaming 8 hours a day had to somehow be worth it. You could afford it, and you were going to do it. The only bad thing about that decision was the time it took you to choose a car at the dealership. About half an hour wandering between cars until your capricious ass decided to choose the most expensive but also the most practical. A Ferrari Purosangue, the brand's newest, expensive and most innovative model. Choosing it in red would have been the most normal thing, but you chose it in all black, even the interior.

With the car already chosen, you received instructions regarding its functions and handling, upon completing it and having all the paperwork already done, you went directly to drive through the streets of Milano, your hometown. You linked your Spotify account to the car stereos through the digital panel behind the steering wheel and blasted Kanye West's Carnival at the highest possible volume without bursting your eardrums, which helped make you feel like a god as you drove past the Palazzo Reale di Milano.

youtube

After about 20 minutes you had already made lap after lap through the city center, just enjoying the beautiful roar of the twelve-cylinder engine and your music. But just as you turned the corner after a traffic light, you received a message from the real reason you had flown to Italy from Korea in the first place.

She then sent you a full body photo of herself. You had to alternate looking between the road and your phone screen. She looked so stupidly beautiful that she made you question all your past decisions to know if you really deserved her. You came to the conclusion that you were simply an overly lucky bastard. To respond to her you had to wait until another traffic light.

After finishing talking to Hanni, you put the phone between your legs and took a new street in search of something to eat. Your stomach was growling; since you landed in Milano that morning you hadn't had the chance to even have a full meal, you had only been eating sweets that you brought with you from Korea. You were crazy to get your teeth into something, and since you were in Italy, you couldn't find a better option than going to your favorite Pizzeria in the entire city: la Zia Esterina Sorbillo on Via Agnello.

After having eaten a delicious salami and cotto pizza, you just waited in the car, parked in a square covered by the shadow of a building to your right, which you didn't mind too much considering everything the car offered in terms of comfort. It had already been an hour since Hanni had entered the event, but it wasn't until two hours later when you received the message you were waiting for.

With the green light already granted, you made the respective call before you forgot—again—, you pressed the touch button on the steering wheel to start the engine and headed to the Fonderia Carlo Macchi, the place where the Gucci event was taking place. It would be approximately 15 minutes of travel from where you were, you would have to make a good selection of music if you wanted to enjoy the journey. You started with Lord Pretty Flacko Jodye 2 by ASAP Rocky, Who Dat Boy by Tyler the Creator, 5% TINT by Travis Scott and Justify My Thug by JAY-Z.

youtube

When you entered the Via Enrico Cosenz you had to considerably reduce the volume of the last seconds of the last song. The entire street was filled with people and camera flashes, as well as luxury cars and police guarding the perimeter around the warehouse. As soon as you approached, an officer blocked your path with a wave of his hand, you rolled down the window and he stood next to you.

"Buon pomeriggio, signore. Dove sei diretto?" he asked. You knew he did it routinely and that he kept doing it considering there were more cars behind you.

"Sono qui per ritirare uno degli ambasciatori dell'evento," you responded, one hand on the steering wheel.

"Nome?"

"Hanni Pham. Se hai bisogno di un'autorizzazione, posso ottenerla per te."

"Sì, grazie," you called Hanni's manager and handed the phone to the officer, seconds later, he returned it to you, "Avanti, buon pomeriggio."

"Grazie mille! Anche per voi," you smiled at the officer, rolled up the window again and drove until you parked next to the curb.

Parked there, you took out your phone and told Hanni that you were out. While you were waiting, you watched as the camera flashes took over the entire street. The photographers and the crowd of people were in constant movement, celebrity after celebrity being photographed as they entered their respective cars; you should have expected it, but you were still shocked to see Salma Hayek so close while she was leaving the event. You also saw Kirsten Dunst, and as a lover of Sam Raimi's Spider Man movies you couldn't help but fanboy a little.

From one moment to the next you noticed how the crowd of people began to concentrate much more towards the gate that led to the warehouse; You noticed that the flashes also multiplied. You sharpened your eyes to be able to distinguish any notable figure among the mass of photographers moving outside, until you finally saw her. Much more radiant and charming than could be seen in any photograph.

As always she saw everyone with a warm smile and she greeted all of her fans with contagious joy; she came over to sign a few autographs here and there, with camera flashes and dozens of phones pointed directly at her. You couldn't take your eyes off her for a single second; her walk was mesmerizing, from how her hips swayed from side to side to how she exuded pure class and elegance. She was fine as fuck, and she knew it perfectly.

A little more than a minute passed when the crowd finally dispersed and she could have a clear view of the road. It was then that she saw your car and had to put her hand over her mouth to cover her shock, but no matter how much she tried to hide it, you could see it in her eyes, and you were more than happy to surprise her.

She approached the passenger door, opened it, and greeted a few more fans before entering the car, where no one could see what was happening inside thanks to the tinted windows, not even from the front.

"Oh my god hiiii!" she squealed in pure happiness, lunging at you for a tight hug.

"Hello, Phampy," you smiled, reciprocating the hug and then separating, putting your hands on the wheel. You drove onto the road again, "How was everything?"

"Everything was wonderful! The organization and treatment were incredible, and I met many nice people!"

Every word she said was like music to your ears; she had one of the most beautiful Australian accents you had ever heard, and it was one of the reasons she drove you crazy.

You reached the roundabout and made a U-turn to return along the street you had arrived on.

"I also had to take a lot of photos and make videos, but it was all very nice. And my goodness! What is this car?" She laughed in amazement, examining her surroundings.

She ran her hand across the leather dashboards and touched the carbon fiber of the roof. You noticed her wanting to touch things on the touch screen she had right in front of her but she restrained herself.

"I couldn't come pick you up in a piece of tin, could I?" you saw her out of the corner of your eye, "Hanni Pham only deserves the best of the best."

"Oh yeah? That's why I have you too, right?"

She leaned towards you and grabbed you by your face to plant her lips on your cheek. You were sure that her lipstick must have been left marked on your skin.

Just when you were going to talk to her you received a call from her manager. You left one hand on the wheel and answered as you rounded the curve at the Piazza Giovani Bausan roundabout. You put the call on speaker so Hanni could hear too.

"Yeah?" you asked.

"You better take her directly to the hotel, she still has a pending appointment tonight," the manager told you from the other end of the line, the severity in her voice telling you that it was best to obey.

"You say it as if I were going to take her to Greece. Well, I don't lack the desire to do so."

"Don't even dream of it. Just take her to the hotel, please. I'll send you the location."

"Yeah yeah, chill. You know you can trust me."

"I only tolerate you because Hanni likes you. Bye," she finally hung up.

Hanni laughed at that. Seconds later you received the location of the hotel. It was the Palazzo Parigi Hotel, possibly one of the most exclusive in Milano. You weren't surprised.

"How lovely," you joked, putting the phone back in your pocket.

"I would tell you that she is just joking, but you do make her life a little miserable."

"She'll have to get used to me. Straight to the hotel then?"

"Uhm, we don't have a choice, I guess..." she said, and then she thought for a few seconds looking out the window, then looked at you again, "Daddy... Do you think this outfit suits my body?"

You knew her and that tone well enough to know where she was going with that question.

"Well, of course. That skirt highlights your hips very well... and that top makes your tits look very pretty."

You turned right and entered Via Valtellina, driving straight towards the city center. Low by SZA started playing on your Spotify, you raised the volume a little with the button on the side of the steering wheel. Hanni became thoughtful again, she looked at the road for a few seconds and then at you.

youtube

"And... Do you think it also makes me look more fuckable?"

"Where are you going with that question, Phampy?"

She remained silent. She waited until you stopped at a traffic light so you could see her, then she slowly hiked her skirt up until it was all wrinkled at the top. Her perfect, pale pair of fleshy thighs were exposed to you, as well as her red lace panties, which you noticed were also Gucci. You were automatically turned on, but the light turned green and you had to turn your eyes to the road.

"I don’t know… you tell me."

Her hand went to your crotch, slowly squeezing and massaging the bulge in your pants. You noticed her gaze fixed on you, but you couldn't turn around in any way unless you wanted to cause an accident.

"Fuck Hanni..." you muttered, pursing your lips.

"Mmm..." she let out a subtle moan, "You're already hard daddy."

She pulled up the bottom hem of your sweater, unbuttoned your jeans and lowered your zipper to reach into your boxers and pull out your cock, which was already completely hard.

“Baby, we are in th-” you tried to protest.

"Hush. Eyes on the road."

She had seen you turn up the volume on the stereo a few minutes ago, and she used the visual information she remembered to reach her free hand over to the wheel and turn up the volume as well. A few seconds passed and the song changed to The Color Violet by Tony Lanez. You had no choice but to continue driving through the streets of downtown Milano, taking as many roads as possible to divert you from the original destination while she slowly jerked you off.

youtube

Seconds passed. Hanni kept moving her hand up and down your cock, which was throbbing between her fingers. Her movements were slow and perfect, the months of experience you had together allowed her to know how you liked to be touched. You felt a drop of precum leak from your tip; she noticed this, and took a moment to kick off her heels, climb on her knees onto the seat and bend over towards you, leaving her butt raised toward the passenger window and her face right above your cock. Then, grabbing it by the base she took it into her mouth, her glossy lips wrapping around your shaft.

Luckily for you, just at that moment you stopped at a traffic light, which allowed you to look to the right and see Hanni's thick ass raised and adorned by the g-string she was wearing, both buttocks on full display so you could grope them and squeeze them. All the while, she moved her head up and down slowly, taking in a little more than half of your cock with each pump in a sensual, slippery blowjob.

A few seconds passed and the traffic light turned green. You were forced to look forward again, but that didn't stop you from grabbing Hanni's panties and pushing them to the side to rub your fingers on both her plump pussy and her butthole. She responded with a deep moan around your shaft. You gave one of her ass cheeks a dry spank before taking your middle and ring fingers to your mouth to fill them with saliva and take them inside her pussy. Hanni moaned louder around your cock again and increased the pace of the blowjob, taking you out of her mouth at times to fill your shaft with kisses and licks.

The song changed, now playing Bermuda Triangle by Zico, Crush and Dean, the bass from the stereos making the seats vibrate. You took your fingers deep into Hanni's pussy, and there you began pumping rapidly in and out. She matched the pace of your wrist and moved her neck accordingly, now she was giving you a sloppy, frantic blowjob.

youtube

“Fuck,” she pulled you out of her mouth with a sharp intake of breath.

She jerked you off quickly. Your cock now completely soaked with her thick, hot saliva. When she raised her head you noticed that a string of saliva was hanging from her lower lip.

“I need you to fuck me right now daddy, I can't hold it,” she begged, placing kisses on your jaw and chin.

"I'll look for an alley to stop in."

"No," she quickly said, "You just keep driving and leave it to me."

She sat back down in her seat and raised her hips to pull her panties down her legs. When she took them off, she took them in one hand and wrapped them around the base of your cock, a detail that was enough to make you gasp. Then she maneuvered herself over to your seat and climbed on top of you, planting her feet on either side of the seat and taking advantage of her short stature so she could completely impale herself on your cock.

"Oh my god Hanni," you moaned, slowing the car down on pure instinct as she slowly went up and down on your cock.

"I really needed to feel your cock filling me again daddy... mmmh," she moaned into your neck, wrapping her arms around and clinging to it.

You thanked God that the suspension of that car was that good, it made driving in that state much easier. Still, you had to do an incredible concentration job to focus on the road with Hanni's heavenly moans in your ear distracting you.

Hanni subtly stroked the hair at the nape of your neck, tangling her fingers between your strands and giving them subtle tugs as she filled the entire side of your face with wet kisses. She started bouncing on your cock. Frantic and strong jumps that, no matter how difficult it seemed, could be heard even with the music playing at full volume in there. Ironically and completely randomly, at that moment Be Quiet and Drive by Deftones started playing.

youtube

"I fucking missed you so much daddy... oh god!" She moaned in your ear, clinging even tighter to your neck.

There came a time when pleasure inevitably made you drive worse. You made strange gear changes, and also strange steering wheel movements. Anyone who saw the car from the outside would be alarmed thinking you were having a seizure or some weird shit, but the reality was you just had a Gucci ambassador jumping like crazy on your dick.

"You missed daddy huh? Then fucking cum on that cock," you growled, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. You entered la Corso Sempione, a wide and uncrowded street at that time. Perfect to let yourself go a little.

"Yes daddy, yes! I'll cum for you like a good girl!" she whimpered, pressing more kisses to your neck.

You roared the engine a couple of times and accelerated up the street, that made Hanni cling harder to your shoulders and crash into your pelvis much harder—apparently the speed sensation managed to give her some kind of stimulus. If she kept giving you those jumps she would probably take your breath away for a few seconds, but it didn't take long for her to explode in a tide of spasms and screams. She slumped down, lowering her knees and squeezing her thighs on either side of your hips. She ground back and forth as she rode out her orgasm, and then began to move sensually up and down.

"Fuck, I can't take it anymore," you gasped, "The hotel will have to wait a little longer."

You took a curve to the right and hit the accelerator straight ahead, desperately looking for an alley in which to stop. It was not an easy task, Milano lacked this type of space since it was full of short buildings stuck side by side, but finally you found the perfect place: the back alley of an old warehouse, to the right of which was the left fence of el Cimitero Monumentale—you were outside of it, so you weren't desecrating anything. There were a couple of cars there, but at that time no one would be out since it was still working hours. You went to the end of it, stopping when a small gate cut off the path.

You turned off the engine and could finally focus on her. You wrapped both of your arms around her perfect body and pressed her against your torso to kiss her. She moaned against your lips and cupped her hands on either side of your face to get deeper into the kiss; your tongues met and swirled around each other again and again. You moved your hands to her ass and then gave one of her butt cheeks a harder spank. She squealed and bit your bottom lip.

"Fuck me hard, daddy," she begged in a sensual, pleasure-laden voice, "Fuck me and give me all your load."

"I wouldn't want to stain that outfit in any way..." you peppered her chin and neck with kisses.

"Then make sure no drop goes to waste... put it all inside me."

"Are you sure?"

"I've been taking contraceptives for months, there won't be any problems..."

"Let's go outside then."

You opened the car door and made her get off your cock so she could get off first. You noticed the nervousness in her eyes as she looked toward the beginning of the alley, so you found it necessary to comfort her.

"Honey, I know this city like the back of my hand, no one will come here," you said, getting out of the car as well.

Those simple words seemed to make her nervousness disappear, as she immediately lunged at you with both arms around your neck and kissed you again. You wrapped your arms around her naked waist and lifted her into the air; she wrapped her legs around your torso and you took a few steps forward, positioning yourself on the side of the hood of the car and sitting her on the edge of it.

She let go of your torso and spread her legs wide, leaning back and leaning on her forearms to give you a look that you always interpreted as 'destroy me'. You pulled your pants and boxers down to your ankles, and with her panties still wrapped around the base of your cock, you sank back into her wet, warm pussy.

Hanni let out a loud moan that you silenced halfway by putting a hand over her mouth—no one would be out at that time, but you still had to be careful. She let her head hang back, and you grabbed her legs by the back of her knees to start moving your hips back and forth. You made sure she received every inch of throbbing cock with every thrust, jiggling the flesh of her thighs and her buttocks.

She was an obedient girl, so just one time of covering her mouth was enough for her to silence her moans on her own. She did it in several ways, but the most common was to put an arm around her head and press her mouth against the inside of her elbow. You thrust fast and hard, letting out grunts of pleasure as you felt the quivering flesh of her thighs between your fingers.

Hanni's eyes rolled back as you heard her let out loud squeals of pleasure. Out of the corner of your eye you saw how her toes curled. You brought her legs together and then pressed them towards her body, hammering her pussy so hard it echoed throughout the alley. You tried your best to keep your mouth shut as well, but her pussy felt so good and so wet that you couldn't help but let moans escape from your mouth.

She couldn't scream it for obvious reasons, but if she could she would have screamed at you that she was going to cum around your cock again. It wasn't necessary, you could tell by how her eyes glazed over and then she laid her back flat on the car hood. Seconds later she exploded once again, and she had to add her other arm to make sure that her intense screams of pleasure did not escape in any way.

Her pussy clenched around your cock and suffocated it, a sensation that was deadly to you and your senses. You spread her legs and now held on to her waist—which was possibly one of your favorite parts of her body— to fuck her with all your might and enter the final stretch.

Her body shook back and forth violently. She raised herself up on her elbows again and looked at you with those deep, lustful eyes again. You grabbed her by the gold necklace she was wearing and pulled her towards you to grab her neck with both hands. You pressed down with your fingers and cut off her breathing. It only took a few more thrusts for you to explode inside her.

The pleasure unconsciously made you press harder on her neck. You grunted giving her slow but aggressive thrusts, shooting stream after stream of cum into her silky pussy. She grabbed your wrists and gave one of them several pats that brought you out of your trance. You let go of her neck, noticing that you were squeezing too hard.

"Fuck... I'm sorry baby..." you gasped, still pumping until you finished draining inside her.

"You gave me the fuck I just needed today… don't apologize daddy," she managed to smile at you, even with heavy breathing.

"And what would have happened if I wasn't here? Would you have fucked some other Italian guy?" you raised an eyebrow.

"A few minutes ago I begged you to fill me to the core with your cum...," she leaned forward to give you a small kiss, "And here you are, balls deep inside me after shooting a thick, hot load straight into my womb. That makes me completely yours."

"Completely mine huh? I love the way that sounds coming out of your mouth," you cupped her face with your hands and gave her multiple short kisses on the lips.

"Yeah, and if that wasn't enough, you fucked me in a Gucci outfit, on top of a Ferrari, and in Milan. So consider yourself the luckiest guy in the world," she patted your chest a couple of times.

"I'm the luckiest guy in the world since I kissed you for the first time, Phampy," you continued to shower her face with kisses as she giggled.

"Damn, what a rizz huh?" she joked.

"Shut up dude," you laughed back.

"Hey, how much did this thing cost you? I feel like if I dent it I'll get a million dollar lawsuit."

"Two thousand euros a day, and if I want to buy it it's four hundred thousand euros. I’ll save money for it."

"Yep, I better get out of here asap," she nodded and gently pushed you back.

Your cock came out of her pussy, from which not a single drop of your cum came out. You took her into your arms and helped her off the hood. Once on the floor you removed her panties from around your cock and held them out to her.

"Nah, keep them as a souvenir," she gave you a kiss on the cheek, pulled down her skirt as if nothing had happened and got back into the car.

"Well damn, sure thing," you nodded, watching as she climbed into the passenger seat.

You pulled up your boxers and pants and got into the car again. You put Hanni's panties in the storage compartment between seats, earning a laugh from her. You left the alley, and after making sure there were no snitches around, you headed towards the hotel. After about 10 minutes you were already around the corner.

"Hey, there won't be any fans here now right?" you asked, the car stopped before turning.

"I'm sure not. But there will be later," she leaned to the right in the seat to try to make sure there was no one, "I think only my bodyguard will be there."

"I hope you're right."

Just as she said, the street in front of the hotel was completely clear. Only her bodyguard, who you recognized instantly, was there waiting patiently. When he saw you approaching with the car he approached the sidewalk, but first you made a small U-turn so that Hanni's door faced it.

"See you inside daddy," she gave you a peck on the cheek and got out of the car. The bodyguard closed the door back, and then escorted her inside.

You parked the car diagonally across the entrance, in an area marked out just for that purpose. You turned off the engine, grabbed your things and got out. You walked around the car and went to the trunk to get your backpack out. With nothing else to do out there, you crossed the street to enter the hotel lobby, which alone looked like a beautiful and elegant royal palace, made almost entirely of perfectly polished marble. Hanni wasn't there, you assumed she had gone straight to her room.

After having gone through a small security check by one of the workers, you approached the reception and began the entire procedure to get a room. Using Hanni's room never crossed your mind, it was a controlled environment that Gucci had given her and that her manager probably also used, so you were never going to have privacy. You had to get a deluxe room, which wasn't cheap at all and gave you another little pain in your wallet.

Once everything was done, you were given the key to your room. You took the elevator and went directly to your floor to look for your door. Inside the room you were greeted by a short hallway, with a small counter on the left where was a small plate with cookies and biscuits, an espresso coffee maker and a bottle of San Benedetto sparkling water. To the right was an electric door that led to the bathroom, which had a double sink and a large mirror, in front of which were first the shower cubicle and then the bathtub.

Past that hallway was finally the bedroom. The king size bed was to your right, with two nightstands on either side and a wide stool at the bottom edge. In front you had the large window, whose light was blocked by white curtains that could be folded even more to cover the window completely. To the left was a glass table with two chairs on each side and a pot with beautiful white orchids on top of it. Finally, next to you as you exit the hallway, a smaller circular table with a tray full of fresh fruits, plates with napkins and cutlery, two covered drinking glasses and a note from the hotel staff giving anyone who entered the room a welcome.

The first thing you did was drop your backpack on the bed and lie face up on it to close your eyes for a moment. After your small minute of rest, you took out your phone and told Hanni that you could come now. Not even ten minutes had passed when you heard the knock on your door. You got up and hurried to open it.

"Damn, you're fast aren't you?" you asked with an amused expression.

"Being away from you hurts my little chicken heart, don't you understand?" She stood in front of you to give you a kiss. She then walked in front of you towards the bedroom.

"You got a scolding from her, didn't you?" you sat on the stool in front of the bed to look at her.

"A small one, yeah," she sighed, "But I honestly don't care, I feel exhausted."

Having said that, she began to undress, first taking off her heels, then her skirt, her top, and finally her necklace, which she left on the table next to the orchids. The only thing she needed to take off was her black bra, and once she did she dove face down onto the bed, her feet dangling next to you.

"Go take a shower then, sweetheart," you said, climbing into bed with her, only to lie down with your face right against her ass.

You made yourself comfortable there, hugging her hips as if her buttocks were your pillow—they weren't too far from that, they were soft like cotton.

"Mmm only if you come with me," she giggled, subtly shaking her butt under your cheek.

"I should be ashamed of how easily controlled I am by this piece of meat, but it's okay, come on."

You gave her a kiss on the buttock and stood up to go directly to the bathroom. She came in behind you, and helped you undress between adorable little kisses on your lips and chin. Once you were both naked, she tied her hair in a high bun, and you entered the shower cubicle, whose space was not too big and forced you to be slightly close together the entire time—it didn't bother you at all.

You and she took a completely normal bath without lewdness. It was a purely romantic and fun experience for the two of you, where kisses and caresses were not lacking. It was the perfect example that many times intimacy was not just about sex, and you enjoyed those moments as much as the sexual ones, they made you feel that there really was something there and that not everything revolved around carnal pleasures.

Once bathed and dried you went back to the bedroom. Hanni took off the towel, untied her hair, and threw herself back onto the bed.

"Your manager said you still had a pending appointment tonight, how much time do we have right now?" you asked, taking off the towel to continue drying your hair.

"Mmm… we have three hours, then I'll be there for about two more, and after that I'll be completely yours," she told you as she crawled under the covers and settled herself towards the center of the bed.

"Aight," you nodded, leaving the towel on the floor to go turn on the air conditioning, "Anything in particular you want to do?"

"I want you to take me out to eat and drink, can you?" She asked you, covered up to her neck with the blanket.

She looked so adorable and cute that you couldn't help but grab your phone to take a photo of her.

"Hey!" she laughed, giving you the perfect smile you needed for the shot.

"Of course I can, baby," you nodded, "I know the perfect place, in fact."

"I almost forgot that you were born here. Let's see, would you say something to me in Italian?"

"Tesoro, ho bisogno di dormire perché sono seriamente esausto," you told her, going to close the curtains. The room was now left in subtle darkness.

"That was so fucking sexy, oh my god," she breathed in, surprised, "But what did you say, I know tesoro is a cute thing."

The way she said that word made you smile.

"I said I'm exhausted and I need to sleep, honey," you climbed onto the bed and got under the blankets with her.

"Well, that's timely, because so am I," she sighed, turning her back on you so you could hug her from behind.

She raised her head, and you put your arm under her so she was resting on it. Then she pressed her back and her ass against you, and you wrapped your free arm around her in a warm hug that felt like lounging at a campfire in a Dark Souls game. You buried your face between her shoulder and the back of her neck, breathing in the delicious red fruit aroma of her skin.

"Hey, how do you say I love you in Italian?" she asked in a small, soothing voice.

"Ti amo," you responded with your eyes closed.

"Then ti amo, honey… uh, how do you say a lot?"

"Ti amo tanto," you said with a giggle, and opened your eyes to place kisses on her neck and cheek.

"Yeah, ti amo tanto baby," she laughed too, and turned her head so you could kiss her lips multiple times.

"Go to sleep now, dude, you have things to do later," you gave her a couple more kisses and returned to your initial position on her back.

"Yes daddy!" She responded obediently and clung to the arm you had around her body to sleep.

-----------------------------

As was usual every time she and you slept together, you woke up first. You gave her a kiss on her temple and carefully got out of bed to go put on some clean boxers, brush your teeth, and return to her. You climbed onto the bed and crawled carefully.

"Honey, wake up, it's a matter of time before the harpy calls you," you said softly, shaking her shoulder lightly.

"Mmmm..." she shifted on the bed and opened only one eye to see you, "What time is it?" she asked with a frown.

"6PM."

As soon as you told the time she sat up and started rubbing her eyes, then she got out of bed and checked her phone.

"Damn, I need to hurry. They're already waiting for me in the lobby."

"Already? There's still an hour left."

"Yeah, but you know how things are," she moved around the room looking for something, "Damn, I left my luggage in the other room. There's a landline phone here too, right?"

"Uh huh, next to the bathroom."

She ran into the hallway, and then you heard her talk to her room service to bring her luggage, which arrived just before five minutes. With her clothes already in your room, she put on clean underwear and went into the bathroom for a few minutes. When she came out, she started to get dressed. All while you were checking your phone without bothering to put on anything other than your boxers.

"So, how do I look?" she told you, coming out of the bathroom for maybe the 6th time in half an hour.

You looked away from your phone and examined her from head to toe. This time she had put on a black cardigan with gold buttons, some flared jeans and a couple of elements from her previous outfit: the red heels and the gold necklace. She gave you a couple of flirtatious spins and blew you a kiss.

"As beautiful and spectacular as always," you winked and smiled at her.

"I'll be back. Wait for me right here, okay?" She approached you, placed her hand on your chest and gave you a kiss on the lips.

"I don't feel like going anywhere else without you, honey. Go," you nodded toward the exit hallway.

"I love you! See you later!" She grabbed her handbag and with the phone in hand she disappeared down the hallway.

"I love you too!"

You heard the door open and then close again, a sign that you would be alone for the next two or maybe three hours. You had slept less than three hours in twenty-four hours due to all the hustle and bustle of the trip and the trip itself, so you took advantage of the moment to sleep again.

---------------------------------

A weight on top of your body and multiple soft kisses all over your face were your alarm clock. You slowly opened your eyes to find a cute smol bean straddling you, an adorable smirk on her face.

"Wakey wakey, sleeping princess," she said as if she were singing you a lullaby. You almost fell asleep again.

"Hmm?" You rubbed your eyes with your fingers and finally opened them to take a good look at her, "Did you just get here? How did it go?"

"Nope, I got here an hour ago, but I wanted to let you sleep a little more," she leaned in to kiss your cheek, "Everything went great, I had one of the best cheesecakes I've ever had in my life, honestly."

"Did you bring me sum?"

"I would have if I had paid for it," she chuckled, "come on, get up, we have a date honey."

"Has everyone left down there? I thought I heard the commotion when you arrived."

"It's 11 at night, people should sleep, right?"

"Yeah but some people are crazy. You know how things are."

"Take it easy babe, we don't have to leave the hotel together anyway. It can be like when you picked me up at the event early."

"The most discreet thing is to go out as if you weren’t going to do anything important at all, it attracts less attention."

"You just want to leave the hotel holding my hand, right?" She raised an eyebrow. You were caught.

"I mean," you pursed your lips and shrugged, "Yeah."

"Alright, alright," she laughed, "But go get dressed then, I'm ready to go."

"If you would just get off of me I could, sweetie."

"Right, sorry," she nodded, and then got off of you.

Looking back at the amount of time it took Hanni to get ready and how long it took you made you feel a little ashamed of being just a man. It had only taken you about ten minutes to get ready to leave. You combed your hair, put on perfume, and put on all your rings: two on your right hand and two on your left. Choosing an outfit was quite easy for you, especially if you took into account that you were going to have a late-night dinner in one of the fashion capitals. A white turtleneck sweater tucked into khaki pants, a dark brown trench coat, and black Chelsea boots.

During the time that you had been getting ready, Hanni was taking photos of herself all over the room, in the end she showed you one that she took in bed and another that she took in the mirror.

"You look gorgeous, what the hell. Are you gonna post them?," you asked, making a few final adjustments to the collar of your sweater.

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing, I just want you to make sure I don't show up in any mirrors or some shit," you laughed, "I'd be hung by the balls in ADOR."

"Honey, there aren't that many mirrors in the room."

"Knowing my bad luck, my stupid ass face would show up in the reflection of the bathroom mirror," you grabbed your phone and your wallet to put both things in the pockets of your trench coat.

"But it didn't, let's go!" She gestured you toward the door.

"Did you make sure no one was outside?"

"Manager nim is aware of that, as the hotel security, so we have the green light."

"Aight, but what happens away from the hotel is our business, right?"

"Yup," she nodded.

"Fair enough," you sighed, "Let's go, honey."

After making sure you didn't forget anything, you and she left the room heading out of the hotel. You were lying if you didn't say you were nervous as shit as you walked through the lobby with her holding your hand. As you walked through the revolving door of the hotel you couldn't help but think that the best thing would have been to put on a mask and a cap, the same for her, but at that point you didn't give a damn. You were just a couple of very young adults wanting to be happy together.

You left the hotel looking in all possible directions, then you crossed the street and went to your car to get into it.

"Well, that went well didn't it?" you asked, starting the engine, which roared through the block.

"I mean, I can assure you that this thing just drew all the attention here," she laughed, and you drove away from the hotel grounds.

"In this city we're used to the sound of sports cars, honey, no one cares anymore," you laughed, driving down Via Pontaccio.

"Waaaaoh, that's the most presumptuous thing I've heard you say since I've known you."

"Non è che sia una bugia, amore," you turned for a second only to blow her a vain kiss.

"Yeah yeah whatever you say Mr. Pepperoni," you couldn't help but burst into laughter, "Can I play music?"

"If you have a perfect song that's about five minutes long, go for it," you nodded, still smiling.

She, who had perfectly understood the mood and the context in which you were, played PRIDE. by Kendrick Lamar.

youtube

"Damn, this city is beautiful, especially at night, isn't it?" She said looking out the window as you passed around the Giuseppe Garibaldi statue.

"Yes it is," you nodded, "It's gotten a lot better since I left. It feels good to be back."

"Would you bring me here again? I'd love to go sightseeing here with you..." she continued looking out the window, completely mesmerized by the city.

"Of course honey. I could even take you to meet my grandparents."

She turned around with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

"What?!" She exclaimed, causing you to laugh, "Oh no no no, I'm not ready for that, shut up."

"Sooner or later you will have no escape."

"I know, but I don't want to think about it. Shut up, shut up."

After a few minutes you arrived at your destination, the Horto Restaurant, located on the Medelan terrace, a historic building that was previously known as Palazzo Broggi. Now it was full of shops, offices of major banks and conference rooms. You went up to the terrace, asked for one of the tables on the balcony and went to sit down. It didn't take long for the waiter to arrive to pick up your order.

"I didn't ask you earlier, but how the girls are?" she asked you.

You went blank for a few seconds, formulating the answer in your head because that question encompassed a significant number of girls in your life at that moment.

"Fuck, where do I start," you sighed, "Well, Sullyoon and Haewon are perfect, I haven't been able to spend almost any time with either of them because they've been busy with their activities. Chaeyoung and Sumin are on tour. Rei is giving concerts too. And Yeseo gave a concert yesterday, I think."

"And what about Jinni?" At that moment the waiter brought you two glasses of Masseto wine, "Thank youuu!"

"Grazie mille," you thanked too, "Well, Jinni doesn't talk to me anymore. I can imagine her reasons," you shrugged.

"Oh… that sucks," she grimaced.

"Yeah but I'm not at a point in my life where I want to worry too much about that. How’s Dani?" you asked her, taking a sip of your wine.

"Oh she's great!" The smile returned to her face, "She's on vacation with her family in Australia, I guess she told you."

"Yup, but I haven't talked to her in a few days. The last thing she told me was that she wanted us to meet when the three of us were back in Korea."

"Sleepover at your house?" She took the wine from her with both eyebrows raised.

"You are more than welcome," you smiled.

"Can we take Minji?"

You stopped to think about what that question entailed and you thought about it for a few seconds.

"Only if you promise to behave," you crossed your arms, looking at her with your head tilted.

"We always behave... daddy," she gave you an innocent little smile and seconds later your food arrived.

By the end of your dinner you had also finished your first glasses of wine. The next thing you did was order a dessert, along with two more drinks. She ordered a tiramisu, and you ordered panna cotta. When you also finished the dessert you stood up, wine glasses in hand, and approached the railing to admire the city.

"Gosh, what a view huh?" she said as she looked at the west wing of the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. She took a photo from there.

"You like them?" You took a sip from your glass as you looked at her.

"Are you kidding? I feel like I'm in a Renaissance painting, it's beautiful."

You took a step back and pulled out your phone to point your camera at her as she drank wine.

"And I feel like I'm in a Michelangelo painting looking at you, sweetie."

Hanni had a small moment of panic at your compliment and put her hand to her mouth to squeal in the middle of a silly smile. It was your perfect moment to take the photo. Then you sent it to her.

"Were you waiting all night to say that line?"

"Nah, it came spontaneously from me."

"Uh-huh, you wouldn't believe it yourself," she laughed, setting her almost-finished glass back on the table to approach you, "Hey... thanks for flying all the way here just for me babe... I was feeling kind of sad to have to be here alone during such an important time."

At that moment, Vivo per lei by Andrea Bocelli was playing inside the covered area. It sounded somewhat muffled due to the distance but it was perfect for the romantic moment, because the breeze also began to blow stronger.

"You have nothing to be thankful for, Phampy. And hey, you wouldn't be alone, you'd be with the harpy," you both laughed.

"Yes, it's basically like being alone," she snuggled into your chest and looked up at you, "But seriously, thank you, it means a lot to me, honey. You're wonderful... and I love you."

You should have told her that you loved her back, after all it was the most normal thing, right? Well no. Up there, under the clear night sky of Milano and with one of the most beautiful romantic pieces in history playing in the background, the first thing that came from the bottom of your heart was to surround her waist with your arms, press her to your body and kiss her.

Hanni wrapped her arms around your neck and clung to you, stroking the hair at the nape of your neck as your lips danced together in a slow, tender kiss. What you were doing was not entirely responsible, you were in a more than public place and on a terrace from where almost anyone could see you. You knew it, yes, but you didn't care in the least. That was a significant moment for you, one that would remain embroidered in your memory and your heart forever, the last thing you needed was to worry about a random snitch.

"I love you too, Phampy," you murmured against her lips, who knows how long after you'd been kissing, "Thank you for letting me be a part of your life, this honestly feels like a dream."

"You're so cute, god, stop it," she giggled and gave you a peck, "You know, the night is still young..." she put her finger on your chin and traced soft scribbles on it, "Why don't you take me back to the hotel to put the icing on the cake?"

"By cake you mean your cake, huh?" You raised an eyebrow with an amused expression.

"By cake I mean I can't wait for you to fuck my ass today. You know what the icing is... daddy," she moved closer to your neck and gave you a quick lick so no one else would see.

"Aight, we're getting out of here."

You hurried to pay the bill (another hard blow to your wallet) and you both got out of the building, got into the car and headed to the hotel again, which you arrived in record time and probably breaking some maximum speed limits. You hurried to take the elevator and go up the hallway, but Hanni, seeing that there was no one there, couldn't hold back the urge and kissed you right there.

You moved between kisses with clumsy steps and slight stumbles, in the end you saved yourself any future effort. As soon as you opened the door you picked her up so that she clung to your torso with her legs and you entered the room. You threw her back against the bed, and being between her legs you went deeper into her kiss. All tenderness had already disappeared, now you were eating each other's mouths in a fierce and passionate way, she letting out constant little moans against your lips.

Hanni took your coat off your shoulders and you helped her by taking it off your arms—when you threw it on the floor your phone must have taken a good hit, but at that moment you didn't even think about it. She also took your sweater out of your pants and put her hands in to caress your abdomen and chest. You separated from her lips and dove into her neck to fill it with kisses and light hickeys. As you did so she pulled the hem of your sweater up to take it off as well, and with your torso now bare you returned the favor by unbuttoning her cardigan and opening it wide, to reveal her black bra underneath it.

As you took off each shoe with your feet you began to trail your kisses down to her collarbone and her shoulders, making sure not to leave any non-wet areas before moving on to the next. You focused now on her tits, which contrary to what they might seem, were not small at all. Each mound was filled with kisses and licks, but before you freed them from the annoying bra, you now moved towards your favorite part of her body.

Kissing Hanni's belly always felt like kissing a soft sugar cloud; it was so perfect that you could literally spend hours just being there, filling it with kisses and licking it multiple times. While she caressed your hair and gave it little tugs with one of her hands, you unbuttoned her jeans and lowered the zipper, and without still lowering the jeans you now kissed her lower belly and her pubes above of her panties.

"Mmm..." you heard her moan softly, "Is daddy going to eat me? I would love for daddy to eat me..."

Her low, angelic voice always managed to make you feel things, and at that moment it turned you on so much that you pulled her jeans and panties down to her knees in one tug. She gasped, seeing you kneeling in front of her with the biggest 'fuck me' eyes. You took off her heels and threw them to the floor, and with her feet now free you finished removing her jeans and panties off her legs.

She crawled into bed and laid her head on a pillow to spread her legs wide, bringing one hand to her pussy to rub it up and down with two of her fingers. You dropped onto your stomach so that your face was just inches from her crotch. Normally you would have done some foreplay and been gentle, but you were too hungry for her. You grabbed her by both her soft, fleshy thighs, and without thinking twice you buried your mouth in her pussy.

"Hmm!" she moaned louder, "Yes daddy... eat your little baby's pussy, make me cum all over your face, please..."

You could always be the top and the dominant, but the truth is you were at the complete mercy of her and her requests. If she told you to jump into a puddle of mud so she could pass, you went at record speed to do it; if she ordered you to bungee jump without any type of rope, you would jump blindfolded. That was the level of control she had over you.

With how turned on you were, you didn't bother to be passionate or sensual, you got straight to the point with intense, wet kisses up and down her slit. Hanni tangled her fingers in your hair and grabbed a handful of it to tug gently. You used your tongue to give her frantic licks up and down, the velvety folds of her beginning to get wet and delicious.

Your grip on her thighs tightened. The flesh beneath your fingers trembled, and her fingers pulling at your hair made it harder and harder. You noticed her wanting to close her thighs around your head like she always did and like you always loved it, but you wanted to make her wait a little.

"Just like that daddy… yes, yes!" She squealed, pulling harder on your hair but also stroking it knowing that she hurt you.

You pressed her thighs as far back as you could, concentrating on attacking her clit quickly and sloppily, alternating between long up-and-down licks and stimulation on her hole. With your peripheral vision you noticed how she reached one hand under her back and unclasped her bra to take it off. She just left her open cardigan on. Her beautiful pair of breasts were exposed, and you soon reached up to grope one of them.

Her thighs were already too tight to contain, so you let go, and as soon as you did she trapped your head between them in a tight, soft meat sandwich. You intensified your efforts, now also adding one of your fingers to pump it in and out of her.

"Don't stop daddy..." she gasped, "Oh my god don't stop don't stop don't stop!!"

And you didn't do it in any second. Not until the pressure on either side of your head became so strong and her body became so trembling that you knew her orgasm was just around the corner. Seconds later she came, arching her back and gripping the pillow beneath her head with both hands. You collected every delicious drop of fluids with your mouth, sucking and licking up and down her pussy until they were gone.

She finally let go of your head and relaxed her legs to the sides. You wiped your chin, and knelt up to look her in the eyes.

"Do you feel like sucking daddy's cock?" you asked, unbuttoning your pants and unzipping them.

"I always feel like sucking daddy's delicious cock..." she responded breathlessly, then sat up and took off her cardigan to throw it in with the rest of her clothes.

Already completely naked from head to toe, Hanni got on all fours and crawled up to you with hungry eyes, looking up at you when she was in front of your hard bulge. She grabbed the hem of your pants and pulled them down to your knees. Her lips were planted on your bulge above your boxers, kissing the outline of your cock and also kissing your balls. It didn't take long for the drops of precum to leak through the fabric and make a stain, which she then collected with her tongue before lowering your boxers as well.

"How can I not always want to suck daddy's cock?" she asked as she set your throbbing shaft free, "It's so juicy..." wet kisses on the backside, "So big..." kisses now on your balls, "And it fits so well in my mouth."

She gave your cock a long lick from the balls to your tip and swirled her tongue there before taking a couple of inches into her mouth. A few sucks on your tip were enough for her to take a couple more inches, then she started pumping back and forth, taking a little more than half of your cock in and out of her warm mouth.

You had a wonderful view: her beautiful arched back and her perfect upturned ass. While she slurped over and over on your cock you leaned forward slightly to grope her ass to your heart's content. You squeezed each of her ass cheeks hard, and also gave a couple of spanks hard enough to make her moan around your cock.

She pulled you out of her mouth with a sharp gasp of air and spat a large amount of saliva onto your cock to jerk you off quickly. She looked into your eyes for a few long seconds, her mouth purposely half open so you could see how a thread of saliva dripped from her lower lip onto the bed.

"Does daddy want to fuck her little baby's mouth?" she asked, then started sucking your balls and filling them with saliva.

"If you promise to be a good girl and swallow it all..."

You grabbed a handful of her hair and made her lift her head slightly to lick all the way from her chin to her upper lip. That made her moan.

"I'm always a good girl... you should know that daddy… Now put that hot load down my throat,"

By her saying that you forced her to return to her initial position. She opened her mouth wide and stuck her tongue out as far as she could. You gathered as much of her hair as you could into a ponytail and held it to take your cock into her mouth. You let out a long gasp, starting to pump your hips back and forth.

Hanni stuck to being a good girl as if it were a divine commandment. She remained with her tongue hanging out and her mouth wide open; it didn't matter how deep you pushed or how fast you did it, she always did what she knew you would love. And in that moment, as you fucked her mouth faster and faster, you felt like you were going to explode at any second.

She wasn't able to take you all the way down her throat, but she did such a good job with her tongue that you didn't care at all. Her saliva began to spill down her chin, bubbling and falling to the mattress with each thrust. You moaned loudly, releasing her ponytail to now grab two handfuls of her hair with both hands, then you began to move her head against your cock.

The frantic gag sounds were like music to your ears. You growled, releasing one of the fistfuls of her hair to give her a harder spank that made her moan again. The vibrations sent to your cock were the finishing touch that with a couple more pumps, made you explode inside her mouth. You buried her head against your cock as much as you could, shooting your entire load down her throat.

"Oh yeah... take it all baby," you gasped, hearing her cough and seeing the veins in her neck pop out.

She closed her lips around your cock so that no drop of cum would escape as she swallowed it all. You stroked her hair and then the side of her face, as a reward for swallowing your entire load once your orgasm passed. You pulled your cock out of her mouth, and she took a sharp breath. Multiple thick strings of saliva connecting the tip of your cock to her lips.

"See daddy? I'm always a good girl... I swallowed it all," she stuck her tongue out for you to check.

"And since you're such a good girl..." you leaned in to give her a kiss on the forehead and another on her nose, "You deserve for daddy to make love to you."

Hanni's face lit up like a streetlight and a smile spread from ear to ear. She knelt and then fell back to lay on her side, her head on the pillow.

"Come here and kiss me then, dear," she said back in her small, soothing voice.

You raised knee by knee and finished removing your pants and boxers off your legs; then you lay down on one side of her and pressed her back and your chest together. You repeated your same sleeping position, her lying on top of your right arm and her entire body against yours. Only this time you took your cock with one hand and made her put her ass back, so you could make your way between her buttocks and find her pussy, which you rubbed several times with your tip. Your cock was already well lubricated and her pussy extremely wet, so it took no effort at all to take your entire cock inside her in one smooth motion.

"Mmm..." she let out a long, adorable moan. You hugged her with both arms and began to shower her jaw with kisses, "God..."

You began to move your hips slowly, taking the entire length of your cock in and out of her wet pussy with sensual movements. It was the perfect moment for you both to enjoy each other's bodies as much as you could. With your right hand—the one around her neck—you grabbed one of her tits and massaged it, playing with her nipple from time to time. With your left hand you explored every possible corner of her body within your reach; you started with her perfect belly, caressing it from top to bottom with the palm of your hand; then your hand went to her soft thighs, squeezing one of them and later moving to her ass, which you also squeezed hard.

From her position Hanni couldn't do much, but she used what little mobility she had to caress your hair, the side of your torso, your hips and finally your butt, which she also squeezed before turning to look at you. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyebrows were arched in pleasure. She looked at your lips, and pulled you towards her to kiss her.

While you shared a kiss full of passion and small moans you lifted one of her legs, holding it by the back of her knee and pressing it against her torso. Hanni moaned louder against your lips, and you did it back, feeling in absolute heaven as you fucked her with slow, strong, deep pumps.

"Oh my god... you drive me so fucking crazy darling..." she murmured against your lips between gasps.

"You drive me crazy too, baby..." you bit her lower lip, then looked into her eyes, "I absolutely love every part of you... you're so fucking perfect."

You gave her a few harder, faster thrusts for a few seconds, now kissing her chin and neck. She pulled you gently by her hair.

"Absolutely every part of me is yours... my entire fucking existence belongs to you, fuck," she moaned, breathing becoming louder and more ragged.

You let go of her leg and let it fall back so that it was bent toward her body. Now you rested that hand on her soft waist, holding on there with your fingers as hard as you could.

"Say it... tell me you're completely mine," you murmured against her neck, which you then bit gently.

"I'm completely yours, damn it! And I love you so much that I wouldn't mind being it forever! Fuck!!"

That last sentence of hers, said between loud moans and gasps, was the precursor to one of the strongest orgasms you could ever cause in her. She clung to your right forearm with both hands, letting out beautiful squeals of pleasure that urged you to kiss her again. You fucked her non-stop during her orgasm, which made her writhe in your arms and let out a small load of hot fluids that you felt soaked part of your cock.

"And you..." she whispered, "You are completely mine," she looked into your eyes, "You belong to me. Every part of you, from head to toe. Everything about you says Hanni Pham’s property."

Her words were a breaking point for you. You couldn't take it anymore, and with a sudden burst of energy you forgot that you were making love to her. You fucked her as fast and hard as you could, holding on to one of her tits as if your life depended on it and putting such pressure on her waist that it could very well hurt later. You buried your face in her neck once more, and it only took a few seconds for you to explode inside her again. This time filling her pussy with so much cum that you felt like it was already spilling out after a couple of pumps.

"Oh yeah... give me all that load dear, put it all inside me, fill me and make me more yours than I already am..." she said in a low voice as you spilled the last drops.

"You're lucky you're on the pills..." you mumbled between tired breaths, "Because if you tell me that I just want to put a baby in you."

"Right now it's impossible... in the future, who knows."

You looked up to look at her for a few seconds and then kiss her again as you let your cock slide out of her pussy—forming a massive pool of cum on the mattress that you didn't bother to clean up at the time. You two completely lost track of time, two minutes or two hours could have passed while you were kissing. You didn't know, what you did know is that it didn't end there. And also that you already felt ready for one last round.

"The icing is still missing on the cake... don't you think?" you asked, and she gave you a mischievous smile.

"Did you bring lube? I didn't think I'd need it."

"Unlike you..."

You got out of bed and went to your bag, you dug to the bottom of it and took out the water-based lubricant that you and she always used.

"I'm always prepared for anything," you winked at her and went back to bed.

"How do I know you haven't had it there since you went to fuck Haewon or some shit like that?" she raised both eyebrows in an expression that made you laugh.

"As real as that sounds to you and me, no. I put it there thinking exclusively of you," you gave her a peck on the lips and gave her a little spank.

"Wow, that's thoughtful, isn't it?" you noticed the sarcasm in her voice, "Does that mean you really fucked her ass?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask her?"

You grabbed her by the waist and forced her onto her stomach, then she herself lifted her butt and got on her forearms and knees for you. You settled on your knees behind her pretty round ass, your cock resting between her butt cheeks.

"Because I don't care, no ass will feel better than mine to you."

She looked over her shoulder at you with a mischievous expression and arched her back even further, pressing the side of her face into the bed. You took the bottle of lubricant and started pouring it all over her ass, including your cock in the middle. After having poured a not at all modest amount you put the bottle aside and began to spread the liquid, making her pale buttocks so shiny that they reflected the ceiling lights. You repeated the process with your cock, and then used your fingers to spread it into her butthole as well.

"That's a pretty humble take, huh?" you imitated the sarcasm in her voice.

"Put that cock in there and you'll find out, daddy," she returned to the spiciest tone of voice, the one that made you fuck her in the middle of an alley.

You didn't make her wait. You took your cock in one hand, pressed it against her butthole and slowly sank into it. She frowned and moaned, engulfing your cock inch by inch until it disappeared between her ass cheeks. You let your pelvis rest against her ass, all the while you just looked at her.

"Fuck, maybe you're right. I don't think there's an ass that feels as good as this one."

You gave one of her buttocks a hard spank, the hardest of the night, and repeated the same with the other. Hanni let out little squeals at both of them. You began to move slowly back and forth, slow pumps at first to let her walls get used to it.

"Is this daddy's favorite ass then? Hm?" she asked with a provocative tone.

Certainly Haewon's ass was a strong contender, and Rei's wasn't that far off either, but you had to give in to the truth.

"Yes it is..." you replied as you made circles on her buttocks with your hands, "now shut up and let daddy pound it really good."

As a good man of your word you did so. You clung to her waist with both hands, making sure she was looking at you before you began to increase your pace. With each thrust Hanni's face twisted more and her face became redder with pleasure. Her body shook with increasing violence as your pelvis slammed harder against her ass and filled the room with the sound of your lewd act.

"Give me your damn hands," you ordered, and she obediently put her hands behind her back.

You put her hands on top of each other and then grabbed both of her forearms with your hand. With that point of grip you began the real action, now fucking her ass in such a way that even that bed squeaked every few seconds. You raised your free hand and gave her another hard spank.

"Oh fuck!!" She squealed, "Give me more daddy! Let your good girl's ass fucking red!!"

You switched the hand you had on her forearms and now gave her other buttock a series of consecutive spanks that made her scream into the sheets. You didn't stop until her right buttock was as red as a tomato, and then you repeated the process with the other. With Hanni's request fulfilled, you brought her knees together and made her lie on her stomach to now fuck her prone bone.

"Now you feel kinky huh?" you growled.

You let go of her forearms and leaned forward, grabbing a handful of her hair and lifting her head just to shower her neck with kisses. Hanni clung to your neck with one hand and you felt her grip her fingers around it. You pumped up and down as hard as you could, pinning her against the bed.

"I-I..." she stuttered, "D-Daddy, I'm going to... HMMM!!"

Just before she finished her sentence you noticed all the muscles in her ass tighten around your shaft. Hanni's legs began to shake, and she rolled her eyes back as she grunted in pleasure. You stood up straight again and released the handful of her hair with a sharp downward push. She leaned on her hands and watched you over her shoulder as you continued fucking her ass.

"So? What are you waiting for to put the icing on the cake daddy?" she raised an eyebrow letting you know that she was ready for more.

"I hope you know how to hide the pain in your legs, you slut."

You pulled out of her ass and made her lie on her back. She spread her legs wide, gripping her own thighs, and you returned inside her butthole with a single strong thrust. Now you were looking into her eyes, and she was looking straight back at you. You let her take care of holding her legs, and you concentrated on bringing her hands to her neck to press your fingers around it.

"I don't care about the damn pain..." she managed to say through her throat slightly clogged by your fingers, "Just put all that load inside me, daddy..."

You didn't need to remember how much power she and her words had over you, but those damn words made you feral. You removed her hands from her thighs and grabbed them yourself, only to pull them back and press them tight against her torso. You leaned forward, and placed your hands on her sides to use your body as weight.

Now your face and hers weren't too far from each other. She cradled your face with her hands, and made you stare at her while you pounded her ass like an animal. The tide of stimulus soon became too strong. Her deep eyes fixed on you; her blushing cheeks; her mouth half open and gasping with pleasure; her sweaty skin constantly rubbing against yours; and above all, her incredibly tight ass, which in a few seconds brought you to one last orgasm.

"Mmmghh!!" you growled, tensing all the muscles in your neck as you gave one last hard push down.

"Hmm!!" She moaned with you, "That's it daddy, give it to me all... all of it!!"

You didn't hold back the urge to kiss her as you shot thick jets of semen into her ass, now giving slow, deep thrusts so that she felt absolutely every drop of it filling her. She moaned against your lips, and released her legs from the pressure of your body to wrap them around your torso. Then she wrapped her arms around your neck as well, and once again, you kissed for longer than you could imagine.

"What a way to end the night, huh?" you asked between labored breaths once you maked out for about five minutes.

"Oh yeah..." she nodded, placing kisses on your chin and another on your nose, "It was more than necessary."

"Are you flying to Korea tomorrow?"

"I think so, and you?"

"I don't know, I might stay here a couple more days before I take the flight."

"And keep paying for that damn beast down there?" she laughed.

"Oh hell no, our mechanic friend already did his job perfectly. But maybe you'll see him again in Korea."

"Then I'll pull your ears for spending that kind of money."

"It's not like you didn't like it," you laughed.

You stood up and started looking for things for you and Hanni to clean up. Once both bodies were clean, you turned on the air conditioning and turned off the lights. Now you only had the light from one of the lamps on each side of the bed. You settled under the blanket, she clinging to you with her arms and legs like a koala clinging to her branch.

"I love you, Phampy... sweet dreams," you kissed her forehead and then her lips.

"I love you too dear… thank you for being here with me," she said softly before closing her eyes.

---------------------------------------

Spren Notes: Well, first of all, I must apologize once again for filling this piece with so much Italianness everywhere lmao. It was necessary. This is probably the most personal and close to my heart piece I have ever written. I just hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

#hanni smut #newjeans smut #kpop smut #smut fanfic #male reader smut #x male reader smut #x male reader #male reader insert

2K notes · View notes

verstappen-cult · 8 months

Text

MAKEUP SHOPPING WITH THE BOYS | F1 GRID

INTRODUCING THE BOYS. lando norris. charles leclerc. oscar piastri. max verstappen. alex albon. daniel ricciardo. mick schumacher. logan sargeant.

★ — LANDO NORRIS (4)

lando doesn’t really like to go shopping, but for you lando would do anything. and that’s exactly why he doesn’t argue when you take him by the hand and lead him inside a makeup store. he follows you around the store after you give him a little basket where you will put all the items you’ll need, and doesn’t say a word. but once you’re checking out, lando doesn’t let you pay. he gives his card and makes sure you have everything because he really doesn’t mind paying. at home, you shyly ask him if he would like to know what are all the things you bought for, and lando is more than happy to sit by the foot of the bed and watch you do an unboxing, explaining what are all the things you bought. lando is a simple man and if you’re happy, he’s happy.

★ — CHARLES LECLERC (16)

charles is always the one asking you if you need anything when you go out shopping together, it’s usually when he sees a makeup store because he knows how important it is to you. and also because he likes to watch you do your makeup and skincare routine when you’re not looking, so, he pays extra attention. charles insists and insists and doesn’t let it go until you admit you would like to buy that pretty blush you bought on your last trip that is running out or that you actually do need your moisturizer because you used all of it that morning. charles does that ‘i told you so’ face when you lead him inside the store, but willingly follows you, asking just the right questions. he also knows a little bit about skincare thanks to you, so he ends up buying a few things for himself too.

★ — OSCAR PIASTRI (81)

oscar, well, he follows you everywhere. if you ask him to take you dumpster-hunting at three o’clock in the morning, he wouldn’t hesitate, he wouldn’t even question you. that is why he doesn’t bat an eye when you ask him to go shopping with you. oscar knows it’s gonna be a long day, but he’s a patient man. a patient man who loves you very much. he even asks if he can pay for the things you have chosen but you decline his offer, thanking him with a chaste kiss on the lips, and he doesn’t argue with you but makes sure to remember the brand of the things you bought and what they are for, so he can buy them for you.

★ — MAX VERSTAPPEN (33/1)

max would give you the world if he could. max is also always telling you to ask him when you need or want something, so he can buy it for you, but you never do. even if he tries to remind you that money is and never will be a problem; and sometimes it’s a little too much and you two end up arguing (it lasts for just a couple of minutes, really, before you are apologizing to each other and making out). so max can’t help but feel surprised and excited the first time you actually ask him for something. it’s just mascara and some foaming cream because you forgot your wallet at home, but max takes it as a win anyway. while you’re in the store, max sees a couple of the things you usually carry with you, like lipgloss and that thing that makes your eyelashes all curly and pretty, so he hides all that and a few things more and buys them without you noticing. when max gives you the bag at home you’re too stunned to speak or feel angry at him for spending all that much money, but he looks so proud of himself and has that spark in his eyes that makes you jump into his arms.

★ — ALEX ALBON (23)

you and alex have a monthly date to go shopping, together. it’s kinda silly, really, and it’s consists on buying random things like a video game alex saw one day or a couple of face masks for your movie night on friday night. so it’s not at all surprising for alex when he finds you in the makeup corner looking at some things he really doesn’t understand. you don’t notice him, too focused reading something, so he just sits on a chair nearby and looks at you moving around and taking things while leaving others. alex doesn’t know how long it takes for you to notice him but when you do, he just shrugs and tells you to keep going while taking out his phone to pass the time doing something.

★ — DANIEL RICCIARDO (3)

dani’s favorite hobby is spoiling you. he likes it a lot and enjoys it even more than anything on the week leading to your birthday. you two do everything you wanna do, he feels pretty lucky to be able to give you everything. if he needs to sit down and watch you walk out of the changing room with a dozen of different clothes, he will do it with a smile on his face. and daniel knows that one of your favorite activities is to go shopping for makeup and skincare products, he’s been a subject to your skincare routine more than one time, so he expects it every year. you two go hand in hand shopping for makeup, he gives you his opinion when you’re between two different lipsticks, even if he thinks they look the same and will both definitely look good on you.

★ — MICK SCHUMACHER (47)

mick likes you. and so he likes everything that involves you. he’s always asking you about your favorite movies and what makes them your favorites. mick knows everything there is to know about taylor swift not because he likes her (i mean he does like her. after you introduced her to him) but because you’re crazy about the girl. mick knows your favorite makeup brand because he always watches you and it’s not afraid to ask what are the brushes for and why do you like that primer instead of the other one you have. you find it cute, how he looks at you with his big puppy eyes all interested in anything you have to say. when he goes shopping for makeup with you, you don’t even have to ask him to bring you the highlighter that is on the top shelf because he’s already giving you the exact brand you use and like so much, along with your favorite mascara and a pretty-shy smile.

★ — LOGAN SARGEANT (2)

logan doesn’t know a thing, like really nothing, about makeup or skincare. he just knows you have a bunch of that stuff and always look pretty, with or without makeup; logan really doesn’t mind as long as you feel comfortable with yourself. but he also doesn’t hesitate to go in the store with you when you suddenly remember you ran out of a few things. he lets you go to do your thing while he wanders around, reading the label of some things and not understanding a single thing. why are there so many different steps for a simple skincare routine? and so many different shades of blush. when you have everything you need, you go looking for logan only to find him in a deep conversation with a saleslady who’s explaining all about skincare to him.

requested by @golden-flora. . . I saw that you were taking blurb requests- thoughts on makeup shopping with the boys?

3K notes · View notes

theveryworstthing · 1 month

Text

a small selection of ill omen spirits common in myths and legends from mainlander and rabbit culture respectively. ghosts and spirits are different things and no one knows exactly what spirits are, but rabbit priests hypothesize that if they're real (very rich of them to assume they know what's real but whatever) they might be ghosts that sort of decomposed a long long time ago and turned into Something Else. probably not though. who knows. here are some spooky facts:

Mainlanders:

mainlander spirits bringing ill omens tend to be very bestial and chimeric. often they have have too many limbs, shrouded and/or twisted faces, and a lack of markings at the joints that all mainlanders have, though sometimes these markings will be replaced by a cracked texture that looks more like broken shell than skin.

silent weeping isn't always present but it is common, and the spirit never actively cries, its tears just continually leak.

most of the time.

spirits that specifically come warning about death are always surrounded by a circle of mushrooms wherever they go, and may even be the center of countless interlocking circles if they're coming to warn of mass tragedies.

stories say that these spirits can be talked to, but that would involve getting close enough to hear their whispered words. the "proper way" to engage with them is by thanking them politely while averting your eyes and then offering to sing them something in return. you start singing before they answer of course, and then keep singing, drowning out their words, until they leave. never try to leave first and never disrespect them but don't listen to them ESPECIALLY if they're saying anything involving or incriminating the Royals. if you encounter one then you must contact a medium who will tell you what they probably wanted without the pesky threat of blasphemy involved :)

Rabbits:

rabbit spirits bringing ill omens are a little more...unavoidable...if the stories are true. they have something to tell you and they're gonna do that whether you like it or not. which is a conundrum because rabbits, as a rule, do not fuck with omens and destiny and foretellings. letting the universe think it can lead you around is a bad idea most of the time. that's how you get Chosen Ones, AKA, Fate Slaves. rabbits refuse to be doomed by the narrative, they can doom themselves thank you very much.

all this is probably why their brand of spirits are so insistent, because they know rabbits want nothing to do with knowing the future.

but.

it's complicated.

because while most rabbits turn down carot readings and side eye tea leaves, they do listen to these spirits. because danger is danger and they haven't survived this long on the island ignoring information about their surroundings. rabbit ill omen spirits are treated less like beings trying to order you around and more like the smell of smoke before a fire starts or the far off sounds of a predator. a personification of vigilance. if a spirit of ill omen starts bothering you it's best to hear them out. you shouldn't let them lead you anywhere or follow their orders because if they're giving orders then they're Something Else, but if a Black Crush floats through the halls, headless wormlike body crumpling in on itself section by section until it's just a writhing black line dripping phantom blood on the floor, then you should probably check the tunnel stability of the entire warren.

now.

culturally these spirits have a lot of moth attributes and tend to show some kind of damage correlating to the threat they're warning you about. many of them are non-verbal but their messages are always very clear. no cryptic bullshit. if the rabbit encountering the spirit doesn't seem to get the message then they'll up the ante until there is conformation that they are being understood. spirits should be respected and listened to but using your common sense is the most important when dealing with them and it's important not to freak out and jump to conclusions.

#rabbits of downtrodden #body horror #spirits #guardian spirits #kinda #downtrodden #long post

806 notes · View notes

iznsfw · 8 months

Text

Reputation, Or Whatever That Is

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung

IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader Smut

7,063 words

Categories | daddy kink, brat!Wonyoung, squirting, blowjob, please appreciate Wonyoung's power bottom capabilities

Sorry, Yena is coming out sometime but I wanted to finally write something timely. JANG WONYOUNG WHAT THE FUCKKKKK.

Please bear with the religious metaphors, I have Catholic guilt and Wonyoung reignites it. I'm not sorry for all the other fucked up shit here I'm just ooga boogaing because what the FUCK

It’s a little brighter today than usual. The sun surely knows what's about to happen upon its rising. It has no plans of telling you beforehand, so you’re forced to find out yourself.

You open Instagram, which is insane because you never bother to look at pictures—much less edited, filtered ones made for meaningless impressions. Your blissful ignorance of online concepts is what would make your fans hate you if they had space in their deluded hearts to. Or maybe that’s your age talking.

But today, clicking on that app is what you do, and that already should have been a sign that something’s not right. The usual run of your universe has gone off course. Who could have made that so?

Coffee. The black stillness that’s pure of sweetness and sugar. That’s supposed to keep everything normal. You sip on it as you scroll through clickbait, fan accounts, edits—

Then you wish you never took that hot gulp at all.

Wonyoung.

It’s all because of her.

She stands there from behind your screen, silky hair tangled in those lithe long fingers. She’s looking at the camera like she wants whoever took the time to click on her profile to come over and fuck her right now. Man or woman, poor or rich—it doesn’t matter. What ought to matter though is the fact that she doesn’t have someone’s hands slipped around her waist and pulling her close.

You shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

Usually, she’s dressed in knitted pink coats and miniskirts; looking fashionable but modest, modest but unplain. That’s what everyone loves about Jang Wonyoung: she’s prim, sweet, and the daughter of the nation.

Now, she’s the ideal girl to take right home and have your wicked way with. Yes, you’d feel guilty since she’s so young, just the little age of nineteen. Still, that doesn’t mean you’d have any regrets. She’s the kind of girl you can’t get away from. You’ll always come back for more.

You’d hate to be so upfront, but there’s no other way to interpret it.

There’s that fucking denim bra hugging her tiny chest, stitched up so high that her abs are on full display. That little pinch of a waist curves so perfectly right up to her wide hips that invite and invite and invite—

Remember to exhale.

So, yeah. That’s how Wonyoung ruined your day, and you barely had your morning coffee.

A text message from your boss appears. You nearly miss it because of how you’re staring all ogle-eyed at the tempting girl on your screen. Before you even click it, you already know what you ought to do.

hey, it reads, you need to—

—go to Wonyoung, and for such a scandalous photo, she’s chosen a remote but classy hotel only the biggest stars know of to shoot it.

There’s no going back when you drive like you’re running from the law when you’ll break one if you pull the wrong stunt with her. Your throat’s coiled with an unreleased breath that won’t go away unless you see her. It’s like traveling with the promise of meeting a goddess, and although you’re not religious anymore, you wear very, very close to rediscovering faith.

The hotel is grand—clear marble floors and shining chandeliers—and it’s no surprise. Wonyoung wouldn’t have things any other way. You know that when she’s come to your office to complain about her outfits and brands.

You go up to the desk with prepared evidence for what you’re going to say. “I’m an associate of your client miss Jang Wonyoung,” you say to the lady tapping away behind her computer, “and I’ve come to visit her.”

Associate? It’s more like mentor. You’re a veteran idol whose efforts inspire the rookies, therefore getting you the responsibility of looking out for Wonyoung. So, father figure, maybe? You wince at that.

She makes a polite sad look, still not removing her eyes from the screen. “I’m sorry, miss Jang doesn’t have—”

Slide your ID card on the counter.

She glances at it, stiffens, then looks up at you. There’s only one of you in the entire South Korea, and although the 1x1 traces back to when you were a bit more youthful, it’s not hard to put two and two together.

She apologizes quickly and offers you an elevator ride exclusive for VVIPs. Smile. It’s been a while since your last return to music, but everyone knows you here. Everyone knows your power.

Wonyoung��s place is the first room on the twelfth floor, a flinching irony.

Knock. You rap your knuckles three times for good luck and charm, because you’ll need it with her. Jang Wonyoung is everything save an easy girl. You remember the many times she refused to give up a debate on how she’s managed, how she’s styled, how she’s treated. She wants things to go her way only.

“Wonyoung,” you call out. Fidget with the handle of the door that refuses to budge. “It’s me.”

Knock a little more. There’s no eye behind the peekhole or a soft “come in.” You receive only the unlocking of the furnished knob and a welcome that makes you wish this could go the way your morals would want it to go.

The door opens you to a gorgeous suite that’s the supreme of all room tiers. This is the kind that only the richest of the rich are able to attain. Big as a house with a soft carpeted ground, there’s a queen-sized bed before a wide window of the city. Picture frames commissioned by the wealthy hang from the painted walls. All for the fucking aesthetic.

Even you, a star who paved the way for the Korean entertainment industry itself, aren’t used to this type of wealth.

Find her sitting on the ledge of the window frame. Wonyoung has her hands resting on the sides of the window frame. She doesn’t try at least a stance at nonchalance—no admiring stare at the beautiful view, no worried gaze at her clean fingernails. Her interest is you standing before her like you’re afraid to touch her. She might be right, but it’s not like you’d ever have it in you to admit that.

Even you, a man lusted over by girls and women all over the world, aren’t used to this kind of woman—the kind that eats away at you.

“Wonyoung.” Inside, you feel like the weakest man in the world.

She has this smarmy, confident smile on her perfect lips that tells you that it’s no surprise that you’ve come all the way here for her. No surprise at all. She expected it. Anticipated it, if you will.

Don’t mistake the coquettish float of her lashes for theatrics. No, Jang Wonyoung’s just naturally someone you’d want to fuck, no matter the politics of it. “Yes?”

Her voice is also just that pretty. That’s a large part of why it’s so hard to act professional in front of her when she’s your mentee. Even more so by the fact you’re someone she’s looked up to for the majority of her trainee years, which is already something that would make people’s brows lift.

“Wonyoung.” You let your shoulders rest. “Why are you still dressed like that?”

You know all the dialogue that passes around the general public. Oh, Jang Wonyoung’s so gorgeous! Jang Wonyoung’s even more beautiful in real life! You hate to say you can’t disagree. She’s deadlier in person; her body’s there before the glass like she’s waiting for someone to give in to temptation. That coy simper can ruin careers. It can ruin yours.

To think it all could be gone because of a nineteen-year-old celebrity with a tiny waist and legs you’d love to have around your head.

“Why are you still dressed like someone from the eighties?” Wonyoung taps her chin, then grins. She’s figured it all out. “Oh wait, you are.”

You’re not taking insults from someone who’s below you in experienced years and power. Unluckily, she’s not taking advice from someone above her or below her.

The step you take towards her, towards the little star seated comfortably waiting for you, feels like a sin.

“You’re incredibly unprofessional for a girl who’s worked her way up here,” you note. Cross your arms and give her a reprimanding look.

Wonyoung’s immune to nasty looks, too. She’s been doing this since she was a child. If someone gave her a glare that read all too well of a career assassination, she’d wink the bullet away sweetly. “Hm,” she says contemplatively, “I don’t think you get to say that, honestly.”

Your laugh is blunt and sarcastic. Unbelievable. Wonyoung’s the kindest girl according to the people who work for her, so why is she a rebel in your hands? It doesn’t make sense.

“Look here, we—”

You take three steps closer to her. You’ll keep your little rituals and superstitions to keep yourself grounded. Without them, you’d go insane.

Then without her having to do anything, she comes nearer, like a doomsday foretold by a ticking clock. Who knows? That clock could be a bomb, and that bomb would set off if you dare to touch her with a trembling fingertip. You’d leave the scene injured. And eventually, you’d die the moment they try to help you, because the deed’s been done.

“Oh, I’m looking, alright,” she chirps. She’s doing what you’ve held yourself back from doing: letting her eyes wander. “And I really, really like what I see.”

You’re someone several awards her senior, and you’re still quite intimidated by her at this moment. She’s so sweet yet so honest—she won’t make up a lie to make you feel better and she won’t hide the truth to make you comfortable. Refuse the truth her eyes locked on your crotch tell. You won’t accept it. It’s not right.

“I’m serious.” Approaching her makes you want to go on your knees and beg the lord for a little saving. Do it anyway. No one will rescue you. That’s what the industry taught you. “You’ve made it all the way up here. All by yourself. There’s gotta be something. What are you throwing it all away for?”

She laughs. Funniest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m not. How am I throwing it all away?”

“Those posts,” you hiss. Doesn’t she get it?

Before she could ask you what you’re talking about, you whip out your phone. Click on the app icon. It instantly shows you the opened tab containing Wonyoung’s recent Instagram posts. Look at her, wrapped in nothing, not even those curtains—giving the camera bedroom eyes when girls her age shouldn’t be shooting them at anyone or be aware of how to.

It’s already massed a million likes in under an hour. But you know what people who turn on anyone easily will say, and what they say could blot Wonyoung’s bright future by a lot. A million people around the world have caught sight of the abs she’s worked hard for, her toned back, and just about everything. A loud minority with frisky influences can sabotage her whole reputation.

“These posts,” you continue, shoving the screen into the poor girl’s face, “can take away everything you’ve worked for. All that fame, all that money, you can’t brag about them after this.”

Wonyoung looks on innocently. She stares at the screen with uninterested eyes, then switches them back on you. She looks like such a good girl in that second, with her hands seated beside her and that face so full of sparkling perfection.

Deception can’t lead you away.

“So, what’s it gonna be, Wonyoung?”

Long silence that builds up your frustration. Finally, she clicks her tongue. Gives you a shrug of her thin shoulders.

“You liked it.”

“What?”

She points to your phone. “You liked my post,” she repeats. “It says so right there.”

What the hell is she talking about?

You look at the device you’re brandishing. For a while, you can’t find out what she’s referring to. You can never take a liking to her posts, although if they switch on something you didn’t know you can feel. You’d die before—

The heart.

Wait.

The heart button below her set of pictures is filled with red.

Your heart pumps faster, a button pushed and played.

Fuck.

You turn to her and open your mouth. No sensible words come out. You swear you didn’t tap twice on her update or take it to a private setting. How did it happen? Worse, even if you say that to her, she’d take it as a pathetic lie.

Wonyoung giggles. It’s a tinkly sound that’s adorable, but you’ve long realized that being cute is not all there is to her. She rises slowly, sets her palms over your blazer-clad arms, and gives you an empathetic face. It’s so condescending that you want to dissolve.

“I know what men like you are all about,” she tells you. She speaks with a sultriness that makes you feel warm and has bumps appearing in masses across your skin.

She smiles. Her eyes disappear into crescent moons and the dimple appears on her cheek. You’re done for.

“Come on,” Wonyoung continues, squeezing your forearms. “Here you are, a big old man known for being a good singer or whatever. You’re so popular that the first thing that pops up on Naver is your face. Everything goes right for you, doesn’t it?”

You have no idea where she’s going with this. You’re afraid to even ask. Your teeth grit as her massages grow stronger, harder.

Something else is, too.

“Then, of course, you see me.”

Her hand. It’s curling around your wrist and bringing your fingers right around that flawless waist. She closes them there tightly.

It’s so bad that it’s good. You want to keep touching her, maybe slip your gliding fingers down her jeans. Oh, you shouldn’t. You can’t.

“You see me, and you get all hot and bothered. And what’s so funny is I’m not even doing anything. I’m just being myself, you know. Being young and rich… a beautiful girl…” Wonyoung is unbuttoning your shirt and you don’t realize it. “You can’t understand how I’m allowed to be this hot when you can’t even fuck me with a normal conscience.”

It’s all so wrong. You want to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to shut up. But if Medusa has her eyes, Wonyoung has her lips to turn you to stone. They keep opening elegantly to speak the filthiest, most fucked up shit, and you can’t deny anything.

Her eyes are creased with knowing pride. Her youth doesn’t rescue her from being so messed in the head already. Those thoughts don’t go along with such a pretty face.

“That’s why you like to get rough with me. You tell me to watch how I speak, watch how I act. You tell me to stop talking to you like you’re no one. You tell me that I’m such a little brat. But you only do that so you can get to control me. That’s your most fucked up dream, right?”

Her mouth is the tiniest space away from your chin.

You’re another word away from saving yourself a spot in damnation.

Her finger that scratches a flaw on your blazer beckons you to the fire. “You’re not breaking the law or anything,” says Wonyoung, “so why not break me instead, daddy?”

That’s a deal sealed with a rough kiss.

You grab her cruelly and cover her lips with yours. They’re more amazing than you imagined, soft and competent with how she pushes in deeper, depriving herself of the air she needs the most just to get what she needs just a bit more:

You.

Your tongues collide and clash, striving to get the most taste. She pulls your blazer off (because fuck professionalism, right?) while she kisses you with a hunger that’s equally mental and physical. It’s not like she’d bruise up if you didn’t get your hands on her yet it’s close to that.

And, in your case, it’s not like you’re breaking any law. She’s nineteen, not anywhere under the limits you’d kill others and yourself for touching. Nonetheless, you’re much older—by age, she could be your daughter; by career, she’s your junior; by power, you’re much stronger.

So, it’s still so wrong.

Can’t be when Wonyoung’s fist, firm around your cock, feels so right.

Can’t be when she lands on the edge of the bed with her lips parted in delight as she watches your dick stiffen under her service.

“There you go, daddy,” she coos, smirking. “Just get all hard for me, then you can stuff that big thing up in my pussy.”

Her thumb toys with your cockhead. You purse your lips to hold back a groan. Let go of it anyway when her smooth, closed palm rubs your sensitive flesh. She cups your balls lovingly before gliding her teasing fingertips under your length, right up to your tip. The girl knows how to do this; she’s good at more things other than MCing and performing.

Wonyoung hones this skill with firmer pumps, giving you the handjob of a lifetime. Her long fingers are just made to handle dick. Each stroke is perfection that holds and pulls and slides. You’re leaking so much already.

So you turn into the driver of the hate train, the press that loves getting her bad angles and the articles that slash up her name:

Blame it all on her.

Because you have here a girl, young and pretty and confident, so of course you have to scrape off your sins and nail them all on her, like a quivering hand to wood.

“You think you’re getting it that easily?” you say. Your moan is squeezed in your throat. “Baby, you’re not even close to it.”

Wonyoung smirks. It’s that self-assured, elegant smile that tells you that won’t work on her. She might be a rookie, but she knows how to play the game.

She tightens her grip painfully. That’s what you get for trying to one her up. Do that to anyone, just not Jang Wonyoung. Your cry goes unheard as she yanks you rather than jerks you off. Spits on your head for good measure. Wonyoung’s eyes make a connection with your soul and says, Yep, that’s what I’d do if you weren’t my senior. In fact, I’d do it regardless. I’d choke and spit and leave you to die, because a pretty Samaritan is better than a good one.

“You’re really out of touch, daddy.”

With Wonyoung slathering her drool all over you, you’re forced to teeter on the line between heaven and hell. It burns yet the offer of pleasure leaves you sated.

“You think I’m like the pretty girls out there? Other girls might have broken down and begged you to come back.”

Your rod is subjected to a brief torrid kiss, then a smile as the wicked girl looks up at you.

She laughs, gives you this smile full of haught and womanly power. “Too bad I’m Jang Wonyoung,” she says, her last words before taking you in.

Yes, it’s too bad she’s Jang Wonyoung. It’s too bad she’s not the other girls who’d kneel for a burning touch of stars like you. She wouldn’t be holding control over you with the power of her lips if she had sanity in that pretty head.

Her plump tiers wrap around you and seize everything, encasing it in softness and wetness. Her tongue, the one she uses as a killer expression for her selfies and Instagram updates, kills you all the same with how it swirls around your skin and tastes you. Trying to pretend the girl wasn’t a pro at this like she is with everything else is useless. She’ll keep proving you wrong and overpowering you.

The whole of your shaft is sucked in, then, when her cute nose is pressed directly to your stomach, she lets out a hummed laugh. You shudder—as much as it makes you feel good, fear grips your muscles and makes them limp. She’s loving how wrong everything is, and you’re not sure if you like it.

Her jaw slacks, and then Wonyoung’s swallowing you like you’re water. Can’t be water when you’re this solid in her throat. You let out a shivering groan. You can picture the bulge in Wonyoung’s neck and it’s the last thing you’d count on turning you on, but they did tell you to expect the unexpected.

Her saliva becomes excessive, resulting in some dribbles down her chin that help her work her mouth on you. Wonyoung’s drool sheens you entirely and she keeps adding more. On the occasion she pushes her face into your stomach, your cock gets wetter. She does, too.

“Fuck.” Cussing won’t help deter the onslaught of pleasure. You’re unsalvageable. Say it anyway. You babble meaningless, slurred words and not one gets to Wonyoung. All she can hear is the sound of your quivering moans and her mouth taking you all in.

She becomes less of an idol, less of the elegant princess for the cameras, and instead a fleshlight. However, she reminds you that it isn’t that way with a fierce sneer that stays on at all times. She’s not your girl—she’s Jang Wonyoung, and you’re already incredibly lucky that she chose to go down on you.

All that beautiful hair isn’t of any purpose if you don’t get to touch it, to gather it in a ponytail, to pull on it. Your fingers creep into her brown locks not only to give it a little meaning but also for sanity.

That isn’t a thing in Wonyoung’s world. She pulls your hand off and slaps it on your side. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Daddy can’t touch me, not when he’s pretending that he’s hot shit.”

Her nails bury themselves in your hips. Oh, the manicured talons of a gorgeous monster. Oh, the pain that runs through your sides. Should you run before she devours you? Too late for that.

“Wonyoung,” you breathe, and then ask, genuinely: “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She’s so proper and serene on her shows that not even her most desperate fan would think she’s a terror. They don’t know she’s a girl who likes older, weaker men who’d ruin her if she hasn’t the pretty face and attractively black heart to do them the favor instead.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You’d respond if you knew the answer.

Wonyoung rubs her thumb under your dick, sending little sparks aflying. “Why’d you kiss me earlier?” Her lipstick decorates it as a kinder girl would to your face. “Why didn’t you grab my hair and tell me to be a good girl? Why didn’t you leave? It’s not my fault you want to fuck me.”

All these words of destruction and your cock remains standing. It’s a staunch reminder to her that you can say whatever you want and the hard evidence remains. You want to fuck Wonyoung. You want to do it to a rookie who’d turn the story around on you if it ever came out. You want to fuck her so bad it’s borderline pitiable.

“I’m just giving you what you want, daddy.” Her fingers caress your sides. “Trust me, I could be a very good girl if I wanted to.”

You almost didn’t believe that until Wonyoung started to suck you off again.

Her lips stroke you effortlessly as if this were her pastime. That’s your most accurate guess, because this seamless performance—the one of her mouth working on you with the impression that this whole thing is nothing to her—can’t be a natural gift. The combination of dripping saliva and her soft lips is lethal.

It’s unbelievable how she manages to find all your tender spots. She preys on them, licking and licking until you’re very sure you were going to blow all over her. But you can’t give her that satisfaction.

You’re very close to doing so though. She’s perfectly sloppy and rough. You glare at her when she lightly teases her teeth on your girth. She winks at you in response. She leaves you breathless in so many ways.

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, god—” you whine. It’s so hard to adapt to the girl sitting there with that innocent face and wild mouth that doesn’t dare give up on you.

Her expressions on camera are always poised. Off camera, there’s this one she flashes you as she shoves her face into your stomach that looks downright evil. Although she’s already fucking you with her throat, Wonyoung partners it with strong suction that’s sure to drain you.

“Yes, daddy?” She doesn’t pant when she goes up for air, replacing her sucking with her long fingers.

“I’m really close,” you admit. It’s obvious from your shaking legs.

Sounds of returned wet suction start to increase. Criticism and compliments prod Wonyoung on. How else would she improve in her idol life? In blowing you? In devouring you?

You realize you’re fitting the cliché. There’s you, an idol whose name is uttered on the daily by both young and old fans, igniting a scandal in the making by fucking a girl beneath you in everything. There’s this expensive suite where stars go for a little precious privacy to do what they want. There’s the two of you doing exactly what you desire: fucking each other. There’s the classic maneater trope with how it’s more like Wonyoung fucking you—she fucks you with her face, fucks you in the head, fucks with your righteousness. Well, fuck.

Wonyoung drools so much that you’re invited to a sea the moment your head pushes past her tongue again. It’s slicker, sloppier, and so much sexier because she’s so completely devoted to your cock. Her hypnotizing eyes trap you and so does her body, tight and tiny—that tummy is flatter than a board and only thin panties hide what her long legs lead to from the bottom.

The only time she stops sucking you is when she darts her tongue side to side with an unhinged pace on your sensitive tip. “Good. Cum in my throat.”

“Shit, god, I can’t—”

Wonyoung attacks you again, and there, in her warm orifice, your plentiful orgasm spends itself. Her throat welcomes you tightly every time. Her hot restricted breaths fan your groin and evokes more semen that spills with no care.

Your hands ball into fists. Although you’re hot and shaking, you can’t touch her. Why are you following her rules when it should be the other way around? It’s a reversal of roles, a Stockholm’s Syndrome of some sorts whose victim is your cock never wanting to leave from the predatory embrace of Wonyoung’s puckered kiss.

Of course, after she gathers all of your cum in the pool of her mouth, she swallows.

She really could be a good girl.

“Awh.” Wonyoung pouts mockingly. “Daddy, are you crying?”

Touch your face. To your horror, she’s right. The electricity and shock of her continuous blowjob results in a few tears on your cheeks. You haven’t done that in years. Wonyoung is the first one to make you cry like this.

You flush. What more to hide your weakness than anger? “Wonyoung,” you start, then you realize you don’t know what to say, “I—you—”

She smiles. You aren’t going anywhere.

She shoves you to the bed. You’ve reached rock bottom in spite of the softness of the quality pillows. You’ll scrape your way out if not for Wonyoung finishing the job by keeping you there assisted by her legs. They close around you with not even a courtesy false promise of an escape. No negotiation, no coaxes.

Wonyoung is sitting on your crotch but not on your dick, which is a problem. Which is a solution. Her hands are pinned to your chest while you try not to meet her eyes. It’s a losing game when your runaway glances are met by her grinding hips, silky thighs, and the hard, flexing abs of a perfection of a midriff.

Her fingers tug on the waistband of her panties before slowly slipping them off. Her pink pussy clear of blemish or hair comes in contact with your length. Up and down she goes, her dancing hips always seeking for more friction. You understand their need because you share the same—Wonyoung’s splayed lips on your member feel heavenly. It’s kind of disappointing that she might as well have climbed her way out of hell.

If she did, she’s the prettiest little devil you’ve ever seen.

“Ohhh, don’t you get it?” Wonyoung asks. She moves so smoothly, you nearly forget she’s humping you rather than dancing. Her soft moan brings you back. It’s the first time you’ve heard it, and you’re melting; it sounds so seductive and innocent in the same breath.

You know her. She knows you. So it’s clear: Jang Wonyoung can be anything—supermodel, actress, dancer—but she cannot ever be innocent.

Her gorgeous voice is silky when it twists into moans and gasps. Looking down at your crotches meeting and swaying is a better show than end-of-the-year performances. The blowjob and commanding you around must have turned her on by a lot—her flesh is hot and wanton with juices as it slides up and down you.

“You’re not going anywhere, daddy!” Wonyoung giggles. She kisses your nose, then your chest until her lipstick marks you. You burn up with feverish lust after each peck. “Daddy is only Wonyoung’s. And I knew your perfect cock would be mine when I posted those pics. I know men like daddy would do anything for me.”

“Wonyoung.” Breathe again, because you’ll need to after this, so why not do it now? “Why are you doing this?”

You thought her flirtatiousness in your office was just her coyness coming out to play. She’d rest her chin on your desk, suck a red lollipop on some days, maybe run her fingertips over your knuckles. Day in and out, she plays the same game. You didn’t know it would reach this level.

“Because I want to mess you up, daddy,” Wonyoung says. Her tongue swipes at the cavern of your mouth right until she nibbles at your lower lip. Her lipstick peppers your face. “I want to fuck my daddy up so bad he’ll never go a day without thinking of me.”

Swallow. The friction of your sexes is driving you crazy and close to the edge. All the same, you don’t want to make a fool of yourself cumming early for Wonyoung.

What happened to your dynamics? Your relationship? There wasn’t a romantic one, but it was always you holding the reins professionally and her just being an insistent passenger. Now she’s wrapping that rein around your neck and claiming you for her own. Looks like you have control everywhere excluding the bed.

“That’s it?” you ask. Shut your eyes—just seeing her grind on you with her utterly wet cunt can make you bust. “Your career doesn’t matter to you?”

“I could say the same thing to you.” Wonyoung lifts herself up and flashes that wicked smile again. “But I want to feel this in me before you wimp out.”

You and Wonyoung fall down a bottomless hole of consequence and wrongs but Wonyoung makes sure to bottom out the first time she sits on your dick. She engulfs you whole and traps you there with her soaked, grippy walls that slide all the way down.

You’d say her pussy has a vise grip, holding onto you like all goes wrong if it didn’t, except you think it has the grip of a vice. Need for her juices that coat you replaces the need for alcohol. Even if you get out of this suite alive, (which is a low possibility), you can see yourself always coming back for more. You could be addicted to anything—smoking, eating, cheating—but it just so happened your vice is Wonyoung.

“Daddy!” she yelps, and from there you can’t count the times she slams her cute butt down your thighs. “Oh my god, daddy!”

Her dainty, cute yells make you throb inside her. Perhaps it’s the kittenish quality of it that turns you on so much. She sounds so appealing, so fucking ruinable that it’s surprising to see that she’s doing the ruining here. Her expression in bed is more animated than the ones she makes onstage—her nearly closed eyes look upwards while her mouth falls open.

The squeeze of her tight, wet cunt renders your knees weak. It’s a good thing you’re lying down. Wonyoung makes sure you stay that way by penetrating herself with you over and over again. Her being barely a weight on you doesn’t stop you from lying there uselessly. You know better by now not to challenge her, not when each time you enter her vagina is better than the last. Her pussy is slippery and tight, proving to be the smallest and the best fit for your shaft simultaneously. Her hole is too tight and too good.

“Is this all for me, daddy? Huh?” Wonyoung circles her hips, making you moan, then continues her up-and-down movements. “You’re so hard, you naughty daddy. I know you got a b-boner when you looked at my posts. Now I’m giving you another one.”

You always thought of Wonyoung as justifiably confident yet arrogant. She told you once at your desk that she doesn’t deserve a stylist who only has a four-star rating. She lamented about the lack of competence of her staff preparing her comeback stage. All those you turned down to give the topics of her complaints the benefit of the doubt, but you know she’s right. She doesn’t deserve less when she’s better than the best. She doesn’t deserve less when she knows her place: a royal throne. So you can’t deny that she’s too hot to handle, undiscriminating to you whose connections always have impossibly beautiful women somewhere in there.

She’s so hot that her small breasts bouncing from behind that denim bra and tube top looks appealing. She’s so hot that the heat between her legs grows wetter. She’s so hot that when her soft ass crashes down on you again, you don’t find it a repetitive bore.

She’s so hot that you’d let the slim, tall girl use you until dusk turns to dawn, even if the curtains behind her are drawn apart and the secret cameras get to snap a photo.

“Shit, Wonyoung,” you say, your core squeezing. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“I bet you’ve thought about this, daddy. You thought that one night, I’ll be so bad that you could book us a whole hotel and fuck me in all the rooms, just like this one. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“You wanted to open my legs and use my little pussy all day long, huh? Until I’m yours to throw around and do whatever?”

“Y-yes.” Nod. Your face twists—she shouldn’t speak when she’s fucking you because all the filth she says makes you want to blow inside her already. It’s the kind of truth that arouses rather than hurts.

Wonyoung’s riding switches to a rapid intensity that makes you yell. She lets you in so deep to the point that her butt cheeks touch your heavy balls. She’ll drain them for sure; the pace she sets is terrifyingly quick. It seems that she becomes tighter after each bounce, and it’s not helping you hold out at all.

Watch the wildness in Wonyoung’s eyes become animalistic. It makes you all the more certain now of one solid fact: there is something seriously wrong with Jang Wonyoung.

She smirks. “Well, you got it wrong. I’m not all yours, daddy.” She leans down, resting her palms on your shoulders. “You are all mine.”

Her hands might as well be a chained collar waiting to close around your neck. Her devilish simper is supposed to scare you, not turn you on. Somehow, it does both.

She flicks back her hair as she sits up again. Through it all, her riding doesn’t stop. “This cock?” she asks before slamming her pussy down it with a different kind of ferociousness. Cry out but she shuts you up with a furious kiss. “It’s gonna be my dirty secret. I’ll always go to daddy after my schedules so I can make him cum—over and over again.”

To think that a young girl like her has you at her beck and call is laughable, but there’s no laughing now. As you stare at Wonyoung’s fluid body and her hair bouncing beautifully, you realize she actually can have you for herself. It only took one Instagram post to lure you to her. She sees you’re falling deeper and deeper for her.

She didn’t exactly tell you how to escape.

“You gonna cum, daddy? Is my perfect pussy milking you?”

You can do nothing except nod.

“Of course, I can feel you throbbing, i-it’s making me lose it,” gasps Wonyoung. Her whines are making you lose it yourself. “Let’s cum together, okay? You can only cum when you feel Wonyoung squirt all over your massive cock.”

She squeezes tighter on top of you when she reaches down to rub her clit. She’s in search of any kind of stimulation: the slap of her ass on your thighs, the upward shoves of your erection, the pulse of her clit. Her moans increase in their whiny girlishness. Their tender vulnerability makes you think she should be the one underneath your body though you’re aware that’s never going to happen. Wonyoung belongs on top, just the same with her name in first place in the list of brand reputation rankings, browser searches, followers.

Once upon a time, you took charge over her. You managed her lessons, her videos, her behind-the-scenes duties. Funny how it’s the opposite now, wherein she jounces on you freely with the domineering message of caution: don’t cum until she does.

And god, is she making that hard. Everything about her is so attractive, from the bounce of her hair to her midriff showing your entering cock to her pretty pink pussy clutching you. What gets you, however, is her face—everyone loves looking at that face. Today, you’re under an aphrodisiac for it: you’re in love with the roll of her eyes as she rides you, the pink on her cheeks, the part of her lips.

“Fuck yes! Ugh, daddy, you feel so good inside me…” Wonyoung’s core clenches and slides your penis along its textured, sensitive walls. Her gasp is straight out of fantasies. “You’re balls deep, see? Look how your meat’s filling me. My pussy’s going to be so sore after this.” She chuckles. “Wait, who says we’re stopping?”

You shudder. You’re getting very close. Your earlier orgasm still has its effects on you. You’re afraid you’re going to do something you shouldn’t under her bedroom law. She’ll imprison you with her thighs and waterboard you with all the girl cum she promised until you confess that she’s the best fuck you ever had.

“Daddy’s going to cum so hard he’s probably going to breed me. Then I’ll, oh, I’ll feel it inside my tummy and it’s going to be a scandal. Wouldn’t you like that? Getting to knock up Jang Wonyoung? I can hear you moaning. I think you really like that. I think that’s why you’re thrusting up in me. You want to be a real daddy and make your baby girl a mommy. That’s so fucked up, you know that, right? You shouldn’t be having sex with me, let alone breeding me. But you’re a fucking weak old man, so of course you like that.”

You’re burning up. They’re the signs of what’s to come. If her confident words inspire her young fans, her monologues of lust make you feel like you’re the worst person in the world. Of course, the boner is part of the effect.

You groan. “Wonyoung, baby girl, please—”

“Oh god, daddy, I’m going to cum!” she squeals. Her emotions control her and tell her to go harder, bounce harder, squeeze harder. She’s pushing past her limits. “Agh, agh, you’re cumming, too, right? Cum for me. You’ll be—fuck, my daddy’s going to make me cum! I’m squirting all over his cock!”

She slams herself down roughly and repeatedly till your lower body’s flooded with her cum. You can’t take it anymore. It feels like dying because you swear you can see stars in the ceiling, stars of lust in her eyes. La petite mort. How poetic, since Wonyoung’s screaming still sounds as beautiful as her singing and speaking.

Her shouts are close to breaking the windows’ glass. Anyone can figure out what’s happening without the destruction of the pane—the curtains are wide open, letting the world see the youngest icon of the new generation pumping herself onto her co-worker.

You wonder if there’s actually poor watchers out there seeing you cream Wonyoung’s princess pussy, grab her ass to guide her, and kiss her when she leans down.

Wonyoung tastes the best when she’s squirting.

Consequences always catch up no matter what. You can hide under a cloak, in another country, underneath the earth in a secluded bunker and all that won’t help. You’ll be stuck dealing with the outcome, thorns from a rose you thought was too pretty to have some.

That’s the first thing you remember when you wake up, wrapped in the bed sheets and by Wonyoung’s arms. Someone’s calling you. Bad news: it’s your boss—the ringtone itself sounds angry, too.

“Hello?” you ask. You can’t help the grogginess of your morning voice, try as you may. If your boss didn’t know what happened, he can perfectly guess from the exhaustion riddling your greeting.

“You dumb little shit.” You can feel the spittle of your boss’ insult from miles away, cities away, screens away. “You’re lucky I’m friends with the fucking CEO.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t give me that. Some janitor saw you from the wing. I needed to hear it from you: did you fuck Jang Wonyoung?”

Unexpectedly, a veiny hand you remember holding something else grabs your phone. Wonyoung leans against your shoulder wearing nothing as she holds the phone to her ear.

“Why?” she quips, loud and clear. “Wouldn’t you?”

2K notes · View notes

mamayan · 11 months

Text

🎃 Happy Halloween 🎃

Shigaraki Tomura x Fem! Reader

Good girls should just stay home, lest something goes bump in the night.

cw: NSFW • Implied Murder • Implied Serial Killer • Consensual Non-Consent turned Non-Consensual • Noncon • Dubcon • Abuse • Fingering (F) • Oral (M) • Deep Throating • Rough Sex • Attempted Murder • Hair Pulling • Degradation/Slight Humiliation • Dacryphilia • Yandere Themes • Kidnapping • a little OOC • This story possessed me and basically wrote itself • Barely proof read tbh

wc: 7k+

Something must be wrong with you.

Or at least, that’s what you imagine the world would think if anyone knew what you were doing.

The room was dark aside from the blue glow of your computer screen. The black web browser with red lettering almost ominous as your eyes scanned the consent form again. It was a consent form just to access the full website, on the surface serving only as a dating type of situation for the BDSM community. Beneath it though were layers deeper than what the simple description actually provided. You only found out about it through a deep dive into multiple sub-threads of Reddit. It was a basket case of crazy, the majority of information or advice, but you managed to dig up one reliable looking source.

This website you were currently on. L@ce&R0pe.com happened to provide a wide variety of goodies, from sex toys to actual published books on shibari, there wasn’t much you couldn’t find. Except like all websites not swallowed up by the deep web, there was never any section like the one you wanted so desperately.

Except this one, because your mouse didn’t hesitate to shift and hover over the drop down section for MEET, where you could link up with real people for whatever your heart desired really. You trailed down to NEW FRIEND, and clicked. A new tab opened, this one themed differently than the main website. It was light blue and pink, almost like a baby shower, except the only thing on the page was a single drop down menu, and clicking it made your head ache. There were thousands of options, but thankfully it was organized alphabetically, so you could easily scroll mindlessly until you hit the C section.

You found what you wanted, clicking it as your chosen option and hitting GO.

The screen changed, this time it looked similar to a dating profile fillable. You worked quickly, efficiently even, as you typed all your information in.

Not your name or address, nothing silly like that. Just your measurements, your favorite foods or beverages, the color of your eyes, your hair color, your height, and even the style of your nails. It asked if you liked to brush your hair everyday, how often you showered, what shampoo or body wash you like. You answered them all, as invasive as they soon became, you never wavered. What brand of deodorant do you use? How often do you clip or file your nails? To what length? Do you shave your pubic area? How often? What style? How many sexual partners have you had? Where have you had sex? Which hole do you prefer? Are you a crier or a screamer? Does blood turn you on? Do you like physical or mental pain more? Have you ever been raped before?

They got more personal and physiological as you answered. You felt hot and stuffy despite the window being open and the cool autumn air blowing in. You kept answering even as your throat got tighter and unease nestled into your clavicle.

Do you want to know who your new friend will be?

This time you do hesitate. Knowing would make it feel safer. Knowing would give you some semblance of control. Knowing would be the smart choice.

You clicked “no” and submitted the form, sealing your fate as your hands shook and adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You set the date for October 31st. Now all you had to do was wait and show up.

A notification hit his phone, lighting up the screen as cigarette smoke billowed around him in the back alley. A quick glance was all he needed to unlock and fully see the entire screen. The leather of his jacket rubbed against the brick he leaned against.

Halloween was probably the best time for such fun, crime rates skyrocketing and parties being loud and wild really left a big gaping hole for any type of heinous activity to occur. He grinned as the information poured onto his screen. His dick already becoming painfully hard as he read all your supplied information. You liked breath play, having someone spit in your mouth, even being slapped around. He was always amazed by the lack of shortage for sick freaks like you, but then again, he was one of them too. Licking his top lip, tongue piercing flicking out to rub against his cupid’s bow, he clicked “ACCEPT” on the notification. He had all your information, the when and where, and your adorable little comment of “Please don’t degrade me.” What more could he ask for? His smile is sinister in the low light off the neon sign of the bar, casting a purplish hue on his skin as he chuckles and shoves his phone away. Flicking his cigarette butt onto the dirty ground, he cracked his neck and knuckles before going back inside to finish his beer and round of pool with his friends.

He’ll see you on Halloween. He might even dress up a little for the occasion.

It’s cold.

It’s nearly November so you hadn’t expected warm weather necessarily, but it seemed chillier than usual despite your fairly insulated dress.

You dressed up as an angel, the irony not lost on you at all but it felt fitting almost for the occasion. The pristine white looked off in your surroundings. It was nearly midnight, but despite that the sidewalk of the park was filled with a fairly regular crowd of people passing through, on to the next party or home to sleep off all the alcohol. Really, you weren’t too out of place, in your white stockings and black heeled boots, the fluffy ruffled white babydoll dress that barely covered your ass or tits and the wings which were strapped around your shoulders and jutted out behind you. On your head was a slim clip which was attached to a white shiny halo that seemed to float above you, only a thin wire keeping it up. You’d at first felt a little exposed passing children going home for the night after trick or treating, eyes of judgemental families which you ignored boring into you, but now it was time for the adults to have fun. You’d already passed a plethora of college students or older dressed even more scantily than you, making you feel better, safer, out in the park you’d chosen. You’d chosen 0300 as your designated meetup time, but specified you’d be early in case they wanted to start sooner. So here you stood, under a streetlamp that illuminated you in a yellow glow, making you seem even more angelic despite the ominous darkness surrounding you. You were busy playing on your phone, scrolling mindlessly and trying not to appear too excited. Or scared. You figured it was a combination of both, the arousal and fear bleeding into one very specific but unnamed emotion. Tapping your boot to a rhythm only you could hear, the night drew on and another hour passed. The droves of people passing didn’t dwindle, but it was always a group, never a single individual which you hoped was your new friend. It was almost 0130 when you felt watched, goosebumps rising on your skin as you realized someone must be looking at you. A quick glance around showed no one though, and after ten minutes your hope dissolved into disappointment. It seemed your friend wasn’t an early bird.

“Hey,” a raspy, deep voice speaking almost directly into your ear, startling you enough to elicit a yelp. You turned, eyes landing on a dark clothed chest and trailing up to a hooded face you could barely make out through a mess of blue hair. His lips look a bit chapped, a small scar decorating a corner, but his teeth are white and straight as he smiles a grin that causes shivers to shoot down your spine.

…maybe your friend was an early bird, just not as much as you.

You take a step back, stuttering stupidly due to your overactive nerves and the earlier shock of his sudden appearance. “H-hi…um,” the stranger tilts his head, eyes still not visible, dark hoodie baggy on his frame. He looks a bit thin, like he wouldn’t have a lot of strength, his jeans having some strange splattering of fake blood or something on them. You lick your lips, heart ready to leap from your chest but not quite ready for the events to unfold.

Or maybe you were very ready.

“You’ve been standing here for hours,” he comments nonchalantly, hands moving to shove inside the large inner pocket on his hoodie, “Aren’t ya tired of waiting for your boyfriend?” His question is a bit confusing, and when you glance around you, it dawns that there’s no one out right now. When had the crowds dwindled to nothing? “I don’t… have a boyfriend…” you had clearly stated that online too, so he already knew the answer to your relationship status. Was he just teasing? Keeping this as realistic as possible? It made you a bit pleased. You fiddled with the ends of your cute frilly dress, exposing a small portion of your skin and garter belt which kept your thigh high socks up. His eyes tracked the motion, lips pulling up even higher making his smile menacing. Dangerous. “That so?” He asks, but it doesn’t seem like he’s too interested in a reply as he steps closer, his beat up sneakers so silent on the ground it’s a little unnerving. Since he’s playing along so much, it feels wrong for you to not reciprocate.

“What do you think you’re doing, creep? Stay back,” You hope he’s not offended by the name, figuring it wasn’t too mean or odd of a thing to call him. Your firm stance and defiant gaze make him pause, head tilting again but he’s quick to recover and laugh. It’s less of a sexy and deep chuckle like you expected, and more pitched and giggly. It’s almost creepy to hear from a grown man. Like a child from a horror movie laughing. “Creep? Yeah? Guess I am, but you know what?” His head lifts, and since he’s more centered under the tall street lamp, when he looks straight at you, two red eyes flash. “I’m a lot fucking worse than your average dumbass creep,” you jolt when he lunges at you, hand outstretched to grab you. It’s instinctive how quickly you turn and run, adrenaline helping you shoot off into the park where no light but the moon shined down. This is what you wanted, you chant to yourself to stay level headed enough to not truly panic. This was staged and as safe as possible. He’s not actually going to hurt you. You’d be fine, albeit maybe a little sore tomorrow morning. You shut your mind off and focus on running, though your speed wasn’t great in such cheap and unstable boots, roots and random objects on the ground constantly tripping you up.

You looked like the dumb girl in the horror movies, tits practically out of your low cut revealing white dress, strapless white bra damn useless and more for show than any real support or push-up. You huffed, digging in your heels when you heard a few twigs snap behind you, feet carrying you faster as you realized he was gaining on you quickly. He didn’t shout and you didn’t scream. The chase was exhilarating, your mind becoming fuzzy as your lungs burned for more oxygen. You hadn’t planned a chase, really leaving it all up to fate and your new friend, but this was perfect.

Until fingers tangled tight in your hair and yanked you completely off your feet, your shoes and legs going out in front of you as you landed gracelessly on your ass. Then an intense burning in your scalp erupts, a hiss of pain and a whine escaping as you slide over cool damp foliage, senseless grumbling coming from the stranger as he drags you into a deeper more secluded section of the park, away from any and all prying eyes. Not like anyone gave a damn. “I-it hurts!” You feel childish for crying, tears pricking your eyes but the burn was worse than you imagined truly, soft hands coming up to try and pry his fingers off.

He has a grip of iron apparently, not the least bit phased as he sighs, hauling you up and tossing you in front of him. You land weirdly on your left shoulder, a shock of pain numbing your mind as you heave for air and roll over. When you open your eyes, you’re face to face with him. His hood pulled off, shoulder length blue hair now tied back and up into a little bun while some stray pieces frame his face and forehead. Your eyes adjust to the darkness as they take him in.

He’s young, maybe early twenties, with pale skin and dark bags hugging beneath his scarlet eyes. He’s got a beauty mark just below his lip on the right side, the scar you saw earlier on the other. He’s not hard on the eyes, cute even, but the strange air around him makes the close proximity fill you with anxiety. His eyebrows are thin and sparse, but he cocks one with a smirk. “Not gonna scream for help, crybaby?” The nickname makes you realize tears are streaming down your cheeks, you blink them away quickly, shaking your head and trying to find your words again. “I—uh, do you want me to?” Wouldn't screaming just make it more likely for someone to call the police? You figured a little noise was fine, but screaming seemed counter productive.

His eyes widened a bit, confusion painting his features as he crouched down more comfortably on his haunches to get a better look at you.

He’d been watching you since you got to the park. A single party in this sort of place always sticks out like a sore thumb. You looked more ready for a porno than a costume party, from behind the view of your ass indescribably arousing in your short little dress. It was both a slutty and innocent look you pulled off well, at least enough to make him riled up, cock twitching in agreement within his pants. He shamelessly rubbed it through his jeans, caressing the hardening length and letting you watch with glee. Your face made him snort, amusement evident as he chuckles and squints. “You like this, little freak?” You looked like you did, he notes. Your wide pretty eyes, still a little teary and red at the ends, showed your blown out pupils. You looked to be more star struck, not terrified like any normal girl chased through a park and dragged into a little corner between some trees to be out of sight. He watches you swallow hard, lips parting before closing as if you aren’t sure what to say to that question. “Fuck, you’re cute,” he grins, “a cute little slut who stood out at night all alone as if begging for someone to come along and do something nasty.” You release a tiny yelp as he meanly shoves you back, straddling your upper chest with his thighs as he hunches over you, looming ominously above with wild eyes screaming for chaos. “Good thing that I came along, huh? Make all your nasty little fantasies come true.” He watches you gasp as he presses his fingers against your lips, confusion evident on your face but you aren’t really putting up much of a fight as you open and let him slide two in. “Nasty fucking girl, look at you, when you don’t even fucking know me.” He chuckles, and while he’s teasing you mostly, he is amazed. You looked erotic as hell right now, little angel costume all wrinkled and a bit dirty from the earth below, pretty face a bit stained with mascara that had run a little from your earlier tears. You weren’t wearing the waterproof kind it seemed. Lips bitten and chewed on, plump and glossy from whatever glittery shit you swiped on them earlier now wrapped around his digits as he dug around in your warm wet mouth. “Suck on them, slut,” he orders, his smile dropping and face becoming more serious as you hurry to obey, a strange trepidation building in your gut. He groans as he feels your tongue wiggle and swirl, pumping his fingers a bit now and enjoying the little bleats you release when he chokes you a bit with them. “Wonder if you’re soaked down here~” he hums, leaning back a bit and yanking his fingers from your lips, wiping the excess saliva across your cheek and huffing a laugh as your features wrinkle in distaste. His hand moves behind him, easy access to your cunt due to the frilly dress hiked up almost around your waist, revealing cute soaked white cotton panties he growls at the sight of. “You really suck at putting up a fight, crybaby, but I think I heard somewhere that girls get wet when scared too…” those red eyes flick back to your own, "You scared?” He asks, almost softly. He watches you breathe, chest struggling a bit under his weight but your hands curled into the fabric of his hoodie, not pushing him away. “A little…?” Is your shaky response, and he wonders silently if you’re an idiot or just a pervert. You might be both, because when he lets his thumb dig into where your pussy lay poorly hidden, you moan for him and spread your legs wider. You make it even easier to search for his desired location, your swollen bundle of nerves. “O-oh—!” Your head falls back, little halo becoming a bit misshapen as it gets flattened to the ground, he tsks, fixing it with his free hand as he thumbs your little clit and watches you mewl and writhe beneath him, pleasure clearly visible on your face. Your hips buck and wiggle, body pinned beneath his and unable to get away or closer like you desperately want for more friction than he’s providing. “P-please,” you can’t help but beg, hoping your new friend is merciful enough to make you cum and not simply edge you all night.

It’s the pouty expression which makes him nearly feral, his grin spreading wide again as he keeps working his finger on your clit but his face closes the distance between your own. His lips just barely graze yours, and you are all too happy to part your lips and give him a sloppy kiss back, his own tongue finally slipping into your mouth where you suck. The smooth muscle in your mouth and the saliva dripping from it drive you wild, hands now dragging him closer and trying to make him do more for you. The heat spreads slowly however, his pace not changing, and despite his slim build he’s much stronger than you. You aren’t able to take any more than what is given, huffing in exasperation and groaning when he places more force before easing off. “S-stop teasing…” you whine against his lips, which were much softer than they look. He smirks, airy chuckle felt more than heard as he shakes with a silent laugh, “how can I not, you’re such a rare find, I plan to take my time with you.” He kisses you hard to silence whatever whines you planned to release to make him give you more. Instead he forces you into a slow building orgasm that leaves him having to pin your wrists above your head lest your clawing rip his skin open. He works you gently and cruelly into it, loving how you gasp and choke for him, eyes rolling back while you shake almost like you’re possessed and soak through your panties. “There you go, heh, normally I wouldn’t bother to take my time with whiny bitches, but you’re more obedient and sweet than I first assumed.” He whispers into your ear as you come down from the mind blowing high, body limp and pliant like dough now. The insult from him brings out a little whine of protest, teary eyes looking at him with almost something akin to betrayal.

“I-I don’t like being called mean names…I said so online too,” he pulls up finally, the chill of the night attacking full force on your now exposed cunt as he brings your panties up to his nose to inhale. His eyes narrow, almost into slits as he pulls them back and shoves them into his hoodie pocket. “Oh yeah? You post that shit on your social media or something? Sorry, I don’t really use those trash platforms. I have a Twitch stream though,” he acts like this is the time for a regular conversation, even as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, yanking them down his hips to pull his cock free. Your eyes go wide, mind a bit blank and missing something, in favor of looking at him pump his length lazily. A trail of blue curls like on his head travel from his navel to his groin where it spreads out a little, the color a bit darker as it goes lower. He’s not one to shave it seems, but your eyes focus on his cock, average in length but girthy with a tip that curves up almost perfectly. It looks like a cock someone would sell as a dildo at a sex store. It was pretty, admittedly, as a few pearls of pre-cum dotted the tip and spilled over as he slowly worked it above you. “Hungry?” He jokes, but when you nod he grits his teeth and bites back a moan, the night truly more unexpected than he thought. “Open up then, crybaby.” He thankfully didn’t call you a bitch again, crybaby the less of the evils and more acceptable of a petname for your preference as you open your lips and awkwardly lean your head forward. “No need to lean up,” he mumbles, shifting until his knees now rested by your shoulders, tip just in your mouth and his forearms on the earth above your head. He’s looking down at you, and you lay back down as he works his cock in your mouth. He’s going to fuck your mouth, you realize a bit late, the position so easy for him to hit balls deep in your throat and prevent you from running just from his weight alone. You’re pinned to earth, the scent of crisp autumn becoming mingled with the musky masculine odor the stranger had clinging to him. Something smelled of iron too, but it was fainter and didn’t bother you too much, not when he seemed determined to suffocate you with his cock. You jerk a little, teeth accidentally grazing his cock and his hiss of pain alerts you that you’ve hurt him. He pulls up and out of your mouth, glaring ferociously as he looks down at you with contemplation. “Sorry—! I’m not used—,” the words leaving you mouth go unfinished as you’re suddenly looking away and down, confusion wracking your mind before white hot pain erupts across your face and you cry out in agony.

He watches with a cool nonchalance as you whimper and cry, holding your inflamed cheek and looking at him with teary eyes filled with questions. The sight doesn’t help his hardness, your face swelling a bit from the force of the blow already, but it was still arousing how you cried for him so easily. “Don’t bite my fucking dick and I won’t hit you, clear?” He’s grabbing you roughly by the hair again, yanking you up and no longer in the mood for that awkward position as he stands and pulls you to your knees. This position at least gives him a good eye full of your tits, shaking from your little trembling as you’re made to look up at him. His angry reddened cock next to your injured cheek is a sight for him, his hand gripping his shaft and slapping you lightly on the cheek with it, his hand in your hair preventing you from turning away even as you whimper in pain. “Okay, we’ll try this again, crybaby. Open.” You do, even as tears run like waterfalls down your face, mascara smeared and making a pathetic sight for sore eyes of you, you let his cock enter your mouth once more.

Because you’ve never been more aroused.

Your stranger isn’t nice, pushing hard and deep into your throat immediately and gagging you. You’re careful with your teeth, jaw already burning and aching as he locks his arm and hand, strands of hair tearing out as he works his hips into your face at an uneven pace. “Stop fucking moving,” he growls, stepping even closer, blocking any and all exits and forcing you to take it. His cock didn’t seem so scary when he’d pulled it out, but in your throat it was a plug to your oxygen and felt too big for your poor mouth. It hurt, feeling him go too deep and leaving you coughing and sputtering and even still he wouldn’t pull out, groaning and pressing impossibly deep like he truly means to suffocate you. “You got a good little mouth pussy, crybaby. Fuck—take my cock, just like that.” He moans, watching as you struggle on his dick to breathe or swallow, slobber and tears coating his cock as he makes a mess of your pretty face. He doesn’t care that your eyes are starting to roll back, hands which had previously been clawing at his legs going limp at your sides. You acted more like a hole for him to fuck when you were limp like this, and it drove him wild as he grunted like an animal and rutted into your mouth like he held a grudge against you. Both hands dug into your hair, hands pulling you back onto his cock when his hips bucked you away. “Never fucked a—holy shit—ah, mouth so damn good before—, ah fuck, fuck,” he’s getting breathier as time ticks by, his own eyes rolling back as his balls draw up tight. “I’m going to cum, ready for me crybaby? Want it in your tummy or on your face?” He’s being condescending on purpose, but it’s a bit useless considering he’s rendered you nearly unconscious on his dick. He shrugs your lack of response off, pumping his cock down your throat until he sees stars and yanks himself free just before the first spurt misses and hits the grass below, he grips the base, pumping and shooting his next shot right onto your face. He yanks your head against his thigh, delirious face dazed and coughing softly as he finishes on your glitter and mascara run cheeks, using the tip to smear it well into your ruined makeup as he sneers at you from above.

“Hah…” he catches his breath, sucking in oxygen along with you as his gaze turns calculated.

“Wake up, I’m not done with you yet.” He’s more gentle now that he's cum at least once, tapping your uninjured cheek with two fingers as your eyes roll around before opening and looking at him.

He swears, your face making him hard again instantly, blood pooling to his groin at the messy sight of you in your white ruined angel costume. “You really are unlucky I was out tonight, I don’t think I’m gonna let you go.” His dead serious comment caused something cold to hit your veins, chills running through you as you gape in shock.

“W-what…?” He reaches into his hoodie pocket, pulling out what looked like a foot long serrated hunting blade. He snickers at the blank look of shock on your features.

“What’s wrong, crybaby? No tears for me right now?” You’re shaking, getting paler by the second as you realize no, it’s not a costume, and yes, there is still dried blood on the blade. There’s dried blood all over him, his spree tonight ridiculously fruitful and his body still high on the thrill. Imagine his luck finding you. “T-this wasn’t in my profile, wh-what are you doing?” Now you look alert, now you act like a regular civilian, he notes cooly. “I only con-consented to the sex and stuff, I said I didn’t like—like blades or blood play.” Your eyes are wide as saucers and you have a cold sweat now forming and dotting your skin, shaky like on too much caffeine as your body dumped chemicals to help you run.

His head tilts, a few more strands of hair coming loose from his tie as those red eyes watch you without any emotion in their depths.

“Ah~ I get it now. Are you some kind of freak who links up with people online for this kind of shit?” He laughs, eyes not matching the manic toothy grin. “Sorry to disappoint slut, I ain’t your tinder or whatever match. Did you do it anonymously?” He’s beyond amused, thrilled by the horror dawning on your face as reality sets in. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He sneers, but he’s joyful when you book it, heeled boots caked in mud as they dig into the ground and you take off for real. True intent to get away now because he’s not your new friend, he’s a real stranger and his energy is nothing but malevolent.

You’re going to die.

It’s a sick thought that twists inside you as you push the hardest you’ve ever, scream bubbling up and out as you cry for help now. “HELP! Please! Someone! Anyone!” It’s more broken and hoarse than you want, his earlier abuse to your throat having taken a number on your ability to vocalize.

It’s empty. This damn park is empty.

Not a soul around and you can’t hear him coming for you anymore, and it only makes the tears fall harder as you drive your body to a breaking point. If no one is around you can at least aim for your car, your phone will take too much time to look at and dial the police, you’d be too open and that would mean—

Something—someone—smashes into you, your body thrown sideways by the brute force and flung roughly to the ground where you roll several feet.

It hurts—!

Your body and mind scream as pain lights up your shoulder, a previously dull ache now hounding for your attention so much it left you lightheaded. You twisted your ankle too or maybe broke it, already so regretful for the evening and your life choices that your shoes hardly broke the bank. It all hurt, and yet you still tried to crawl to get away, still eager for another deep breath of air in your lungs even if it hurt to do that too.

“Hck, please, please—help—!,” you’re a sobbing pathetic mess, and he couldn’t be more turned on by the sight. He dusts himself off like he hadn’t tackled you like a linebacker for a major league football team, his lanky form sinewy with muscle and his agility nothing to scoff at. He swirls the enormous daunting blade with a whistle, smiling more genuinely as he strolls towards your shaking form crawling away.

“Where do you think you’re going, crybaby? I said I wasn’t done with you,” he lands a solid hit to your middle, dirty sneaker smearing mud on your cute little dress, looking less and less white as the night wears on. The blow is not hard enough to damage anything, he’s sure, but you act as if you’ve been disemboweled by how you howl and heave. He rolls his eyes at the dramatics, settling one foot between your shoulder blades and pressing down until you’re left immobilized.

Your vision is blurry, going in and out of focus as you try, and try, and try to get away, cute nail polish chipped and ruined as you claw at the dirt floor for leverage.

He admires your tenacity. “You think you can get away? That anyone is coming to save you?” He brushes a few stray hairs out of his face as he laughs, the urge to gut you strong as he savors your useless little struggle. “Crybaby, look around! No one is coming! I said look,” he grinds out, dropping to one knee while his other leg remains planted on your back, his hand gripping your hair and yanking your head up to see what he meant.

There’s a fence. A metal chain link fence, and it had a sign your vision was too blurry to read through your tears.

“You ran yourself straight into the worst possible area, this is sort of your game over,” He leans down to look at you, yanking your head back and forcing you into an uncomfortable arch. He raises up the blade, fully intending to slit your pretty throat and watch your eyes as the light fades, but you blubber out a sentence which halts him.

“Y-you didn’t finish! E-earlier, hck, earlier you didn’t finish—!” Your eyes squeeze closed in pain as he yanks your head to the side. Confusion burned in him, and curiosity kept you breathing for now.

“Didn’t finish what, crybaby? Fairly certain I finished all over your face, if I remember correctly.” He has a sharp edge in his tone, something metallic fills your mouth and you realize you’ve bitten through your tongue in your panic. A few drops spill past your lips, catching his attention.

“S-shouldn’t you also f-fuck me too? I-it’s why I came out tonight, wh-why I, ah, d-did this,” it’s a long shot by any means, and he’s no fool, but you did make a good point.

He was still hard.

“Smart little crybaby, aren’t you?” He mutters darkly, setting aside his blade in favor of smashing your face into the dirt, keeping your head down as he presses against your back and yanks your hips up. Your knees are skinned from the rough handling, socks torn open and stained with blood and dirt while his calloused hands slip beneath your dress. Your breath hitches. You needed to think of some way out of this, some kind of plan to escape or incapacitate him.

He’s busied himself with your still dripping cunt. Two fingers roughly filling your hole and uncaringly stretching your tight entrance. “You really are a freak, wet even though you’re going to die, crybaby.” He felt a bit strange as you whimper and mewl below, hand slowing as he tried to place the feeling.

He shrugs it off, instead easily yanking down his jeans which were still unbuttoned and pulling out his cock once more, stroking his shaft a few times before he lined himself up with your puffy lips. “Fuck—,” he swears, eyes seeing stars as he pushes just his tip past the tight ring of muscle at your entrance, mouth opening as licks his lips and stares down at you. “Never had pussy so good…” he giggles darkly, cracking his neck as he pushes each inch inside of you, stretching you out deliciously until you’re speared on his cock with his hips flush with your ass. “Who knew you’d be the best, crybaby.” He muses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips, your little dress flipped up and over your ass so he can watch it bounce as he leans back on his knees to fuck you deeper. You need to think straight but it’s difficult with how good your body feels, the pain from earlier seeming to go away with a numb buzz as he fills your pussy, hitting perfectly against a spot that has you arching harder for more.

You really are a freak like he says.

You can’t help relaxing further, eyes dumbly looking to the side where your head rests as he pounds into you from behind, the coil in your gut growing tighter by the minute.

The clouds blocking the moon seem to part just for you, the full moon’s light no longer blocked and illuminating the little patch of grass he’d tackled you into. Something gleams, in perfect reach too as your eyes widen.

His knife.

He’d already proven you can’t outrun him, but what if he was injured? There’s a major artery in the thigh, if you hit that, wouldn’t you be able to get away?

He yanks back roughly, moaning as he feels you squeeze even tighter around him, velvet walls massaging his dick while he tries to fuck himself as deep as possible inside of you.

It hit you despite all your intentions not to, because this wasn’t safe and he wants to end your life and everything is wrong, but your body doesn’t listen. You cum with a shaky cry, and with an awkward turn of your head you watch as his head goes back and he moans, eyes closed in bliss as you coat his cock in even more slick.

You’re louder than you intended to be, but your fingers close around the hilt nonetheless, trembling with the heavy weight in your grasp, you use every ounce of energy inside you to swing it back into his thigh.

“Cute,” you scream as he catches your wrist, hand clenching so tight you feel your bones grind together as the knife falls from your grip. He twists your arm around and pins your wrist behind your back, holding it in place while his other hand remains at your hip.

“So fucking cute, crybaby. Did you cum just to distract me or was that because you couldn’t help yourself?” He’s getting a high from this, from fucking you and turning you into nothing but a toy as he bounces you on his cock, hips still but arms pulling you back and forth with ease. Scarlet eyes drink you in with undisguised sick glee, and he’s finally able to place the feeling from earlier.

“A pretty little slut trying to get her rocks off and getting shown why she should’ve been a good girl and stayed home,” he grunts, releasing you and leaning over, pinning you with his weight and nearly knocking the air from your lungs how deeply he hits you inside from this angle. Dirt fills the underbelly of your nails, your fingers digging into the earth just for some semblance of stability.

You had none. It was a sick and horrifying realization. You have no control. You can do nothing to stop this. As deeply as it made your gut sink, another odd emotion rose to the surface.

A bubbly sensation that tore through you as your tears became less from fear and more from overstimulation.

His hips piston in and out of you, bullying your cervix in this position as he ruts into you like a hound, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he moans and grunts.

You break again, spasm and cinch down on his cock like a vice while you wail as if in mourning. Maybe you are, for yourself at least. “Oh fuck—! s’too much—, please, I can’t—, f-feels good, hah,” your nearly incoherent babbling sends him over the edge along with you, his own dull nails finally drawing blood as he holds you for dear life as he releases deep inside you, tip kissing right up against you womb as he cums. You can feel it too, his cock twitching inside as the night seems to still for a moment.

He holds you for a while. Breathing you in, nuzzling his face into your neck and licking you. He holds you until his cock fully softens and it hurt to be gripped so tightly inside your wet heat, regrettably pulling away.

He stands, putting his sticky limp cock away inside his underwear and pulling up his pants, looking down at your ruined figure that had slumped over to the side.

“Y’know, crybaby… you really resemble an angel now,” he smiles, red eyes almost glowing as the moon blankets his back and shadows his face. His hair seems almost white like this, your tired eyes note. You don’t move or even flinch as he grabs his knife and yanks your limp figure up by your hair. Even now you’re still crying, face lax despite the rivers flowing down your dirty swollen cheeks. You make no effort to stop him, having given up completely.

He crouches down again, mostly eye level now as he makes you look at him.

“You got any last words?” He’s being dead serious. He feels strange looking at the almost glazed over look in your eyes.

“W-what…” your voice is barely a whisper, but the night is so quiet he catches it, “what’s your…name?”

An unexpected question.

His eyes gleam, smile ravenous as he puts his lips against your ear and whispers it.

“Tomura, what’s your name, crybaby?” He asks, gently, almost like he’s actually interested.

You hoarsely whisper it, your last time ever saying it after tonight. He hums, like it pleases him, before he brings down the knife swiftly.

Your vision goes dark, the strike mercifully painless. Your last thoughts blur as you drift into soft nothingness.

He releases your hair, grabbing your limp figure up in his arms as he chuckles and sheaths his knife properly on his hip. “Dumb crybaby” his voice almost singing the words as he whistles and walks away, the park dead silent but even if someone had seen you in his arms, he could just play the good boyfriend taking his sweetheart home safely. It’s not entirely a lie either, his eyes glancing down at your unconscious form, pretty neck unmarred but a bruise would likely form on the back where he struck you tomorrow. Tomura had never felt compelled to allow a victim to live, but then again he’s never fucked a victim either, so you’re the first for a lot. He supposed it made you quite special, his legs carrying him in the direction of his car in the parking lot about a mile south. Obsession and possessiveness swirled in those red depths as they looked at your figure.

“Good girls should just stay home…” he continues his sardonic little tune, his smile gruesome and foreboding.

Vibrant blue orbs check his surroundings again, noting once again his friend was a no show. Rolling his eyes, he knew it was too good to be true. Your profile screamed inexperienced and cautious, despite you clicking that you’d like him to remain anonymous beforehand. It didn’t matter, he’d just go enjoy some sorority girl pussy instead, figuring at 0330 that most parties would be winding down. Drunk girls dressed like sluts were his second favorite.

Dabi clicks the notify option on his app, letting the website staff know you never showed up.

Though, he muses if something did happen, the police wouldn’t be notified until it was too late. Halloween weekend after all meant you could be missing for quite a while before anyone noticed.

Not his problem though.

Post dividers/@cafekitsune