#and really that's the way so many people fucking think and it's almost hard to comprehend
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— Brat
nsfw mdni :3 | dom!brat tamer!bsf!vernon x fem!reader | 1.1k
!! overstimulation, brat reader, slightly controlling, loud moaning(f), fingering, doggy, petname (babe), dirty talking, maybe others but it should be fine lemme know if you care !!
- this came to me in a dream not vernon but this lol, vernon seemed perfect for the role, written at 4 am in the morning don’t even worry about it. neo culture technology
Finally, the day had come for your monthly movie night with Vernon, you had a whole system you operated so it could be a fun experience for both of you. Picking out of a box filled with movies titles you had both submitted throughout the past few months, you both picked a movie then decided which one out of the two you would see that night, sometimes going for both.
This night was no different, you had decided on a movie for the night together, sitting on your respective sides of the couch. You let your legs lounge on his lap, resting your back against the arm rest, not paying mind to his playful poking on your thighs as the movie begun.
Most of the first hour, you sat in silence just throwing in a funny remark here and there for giggles, then came the scenes. After watching so many movies the sex scenes, bothered you less and less, you’d usually take the opportunity to say something dumb about it but your focus was elsewhere. The touch was delicate, faint almost, his fingers running up your thighs, it was hard to think coherently with the uncensored scenes in front of you.
“No one is screaming that loud, that’s hilarious” you force the words out trying to get your mind off the soft touches, your voice caught his attention and his roaming hand stopped.
“Some people get really loud to be honest” he says, nodding to himself before turning to you, you narrow your eyes at him trying to figure out if he was talking from experience or just generally.
“Like you’ve had someone screaming in bed?” he laughs at your confused expression answering your question with a nod, amused by the fact that you find it impossible.
“I’m sure you do” there was no way, you had never experienced it so it didn’t seem probable to you, simply agreeing reluctantly to your friend’s baseless claims.
He looks at you closer brows furrowed as he leans in, his hands perfectly wrapped around your thighs sliding further up, stopping inches away from your bulging lips.
“You think I’m lying?” a soft laugh of disbelief escapes his mouth, his eyes scan your face genuinely curious, watching you blink away before speaking up.
“I’m just saying any one can fake pleasure” you finally say looking back at him, a hint of shock under his smile, his lips twitching as he lets out a scoff.
“Fuck, I didn’t know you were such a brat”
One glance down between your legs, it was so obvious how badly you wanted it, for his hand to move closer to press against your aching clit just begging to be stimulated. That didn’t matter, he watched as your breaths grew bigger, your hips moving closer subconsciously drawn to the touch of his hand just resting on your thigh.
“Nonie… please” that was all he needed, your whole body begging for him to make you lose your voice to his touch. The sudden pressure sends a jolt to your spine making you arch your back, just from his fingers rubbing through your thin panties. The sound of his laugh mocking you only adding to your pleasure, letting him pull down your shirt’s neck for your pretty breasts to fall out, you really were all talk so easily letting yourself get used.
You couldn’t keep your eyes off him, his thumb brushing against your nipple before pinching the sensitive skin sliding down to the base holding onto it as his lips met your pebbled nipples, his wet tongue pressing on it making you suck in air from the feeling. So distracted by his kisses, the feeling of his fingers slipping inside your wet skin caught you off guard, a soft moan leaving your lips.
“Don’t fake it for me, I know you can take more than this” his hot breath against your ear as he spoke, placing a soft kiss on your jawline, pulling his fingers out completely covered with your juices bringing them to your lips, pulling down your jaw to open your mouth for him.
You find yourself moaning on his fingers as you suck on them, enjoying your taste on his soft fingers. His smirk as he takes out his fingers makes you weaker than you already were, rolling over on your belly ready let him take your pussy.
Getting rid of all your bottom clothing, you bend over his legs keeping your ass up for him to use to his content. A light smack against your ass the feeling tingling to your desperate pussy, he slides his fingers back in fucking your tight pussy sliding in a third finger as he quickens the pace, your noises are barely quiet as his fingers rub swiftly against your spot, hitting you so perfectly you have to dig your head into the couch to mute your pleading.
“I want you to hear yourself,” you feel his hand grab around your jaw lifting your head up, as he places his fingers against your clit stimulating it with fast back and forths making you legs grow weak, trembling uncontrollably, weak taps against his wrists for him to stop only for him to push you further.
Your pleading becomes more desperate as you near your release point, he can feel you tensing so hungrily around his fingers, loving how easily you crumble, cussing out his name as you pour out on his fingers. He wastes no time making you kneel on the couch, spreading your legs out so he can get a better view of your throbbing pussy, standing right behind you.
“You’re so fucking hot baby, I’m gonna make you scream my name tonight” It was a promise, the sound of him taking out his cock made your pussy beg, missing the hot feeling of being fucked by a rock hard shaft.
Your hands grab each side of your ass pulling them apart for him to see how desperate your pussy was for him to fill it up, the scoff that escaped his lips was so telling. In a heartbeat you feel him thrust deep inside you making your back arch, his hand wrapping around your throat as his thrusts continued.
“Fuck… talk to me baby” with every thrust you feel you body grow weaker, the only sounds able to leave your lips are desperate wails from the overstimulating pleasure, his cock hitting harder against you repeatedly in only a second.
Your words are inarticulate, you can’t even tell how loud you’re screaming till he gags you with his fingers, muting your cries as you cum your whole body stiffening around him, grabbing your ass and squeezing it against his dick filling up your used hole.
You let your body relax on the couch completely disheveled, watching him take his seat beside you, pressing play on the remote to resume the movie.
“Let’s finish the movie now”
#svt hard thoughts#seventeen smut#svt hard hours#svt smut#vernon smut#vernon hard thoughts#hansol smut#hansol x reader#vernon x reader#vernon hard hours
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Reading my fave thin man and lady fic. Kicking my feet a lot because tbh. Sometimes a sad man really is just a weird woman's science project in a way that is so homoerotic
#carols.txt#when i tell you i've been re-reading this single one shot religiously every single month for almost three years I mean it#《straight》 ship so good we call it queerbaiting#LMAOOOOOO#call it yaoyuri the way these old people r tragic and doomed by the narrative or whatever#listen as a bi person on the aroace spectrum whatever this fic was trying to convey really strikes a cord#while its not the same as my own this characterization of them is so intriguing. im so hooked on it#^^ one thing i think this person really nailed was thin man's immaturity (stemming from his emotions oftentime being too big to control) ->#and the desire of attention that comes with said immaturity while also having the lady be both cold (normal) and intrigued in a way that ->#that really fits her character. curiosity is one of the many facets that make up her character that don't get explored much and i think its#done so well here for like no reason💀 THIS AUTHOR COOKED TOO HARD YOU GUYS#like ofc she wouldnt send him away. shes studying him under a microscope. even though hes annoying as hell#thin man is plagued by sassy man syndrome in this which is really fucking funny cus it lasts a total of 3 seconds before she finds him out#PLUS THE TALK ABOUT THE TOWER AND THE WORLD... AUGHHH#i need this author to give me their brain NOW#AUGHHHHHAAGGGHEEHH#everyone needs to start doing thinlady the way this person was doing it#this is the biblically accurate old people (in case my theory abt baby lady having been in the pale city is wrong)#live laugh love. its my birthday. spoiling myself a bit. goddamn.
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wish someone would hurry up and come up with a quick and easy definition of the word "love" and solve so many of my problems
#i feel like i love so many people but i struggle BAD to express it bc. i dont know what that means to them#it feels often like people take it to mean some deeper thing that i never mean at the same time they do#maybe i am simple in many definitions of the word. ive had entire fallings-out with people about it.#people say love is hard love is work people will say they can love someone but not even like them at times#i dont understand it. it leads me to believe i am lacking in this mystical 'love' they describe#but i feel full of love.#i AM simple i feel like i love people the way i love music and food and drink and. idk colours and warmth and. simple things!!#i think it means when something makes you happy!! when you enjoy it when u want it around!#but many people equate it with. things that i would describe differently.#whjatever i just want to tell a million people i love them but i want them to know what i mean.#i mean sure i care for u sure i dont want anything bad to happen to u but i feel that way about almost every human!#what i really mean is u bring me joy and i ENJOY being around u its not hard it doesnt make me feel bad or guilty its good!!!#anyway whatever anthony green just wants me to set myself alight on a fucking pyre. friends in my phone i love u..
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natsume book of friends season 4 opening sequence has got me incredibly fucked up. the lyrics. kid natsume's tiny little legs and teenage natsume watching him run. the lyrics. nyanko-sensei burrowing into his arms. did i mention the lyrics? ending frame on the fujiwara family. including natsume. because he's part of their family. as the lyrics ask him to "please [not] keep suffering alone"? somebody fucking hold me.
#i'm actually almost done with season 4 because i have no self-control. and every time i watch the opening i'm like#no this has only gotten more potent since the last time i watched it. we are reaching danger levels#natsume yuujinchou#natsume's book of friends#my posts#season 4 is the season of tanuma just completely destroying me on every level. why is every single character like this??#every time he learns something about natsume he's like oh so this is what it's like for natsume?#and then it happens again and he's like wait natsume ALSO has THIS OTHER THING to contend with??#and again: AND A THIRD THING?? WHY MUST THE WORLD'S BEST BOY NATSUME TAKASHI SUFFER???#he just wants to help natsume deal with stuff and i am on the fucking floor#his thought process is just#this is hard for natsume. i wish i could help him. maybe here's a way i could help him? he doesn't want me to though because it would#put me in danger. but i don't want him to be in danger either. and i'm telling him that to his face. i don't think it's really#gotten through to him but that's okay i will just keep telling him. now i'm realizing that the thing i did to help him maybe just made#things harder for him. this is hard for natsume. i wish i could help him. maybe sometimes the best way to help him is to just#respect his wishes and yet remind him that he can lean on people and that people love him as much as he loves them#the part where tanuma realized why natsume doesn't tell the fujiwaras about youkai gutted me#this kid is so emotionally astute and such a sweetheart#i just watched the episode where natsume loses his picture of his parents and his old house is getting sold and i cried. SO many tears.#tanuma putting his foot down for once like no actually you need to admit that something is bothering you this time#we can find this picture. ask us to help you do this thing that we can actually do for you. you don't need to be sad for no reason#mmm can't be coherent about it just rest assured it was extremely harmful to me and also exactly what i needed#anyway the season 4 opening song as the thing you say to your younger self who lives inside your current self because#you can't actually go back in time and be the person your younger self needed to have in their life. so all you can do is love that child#in absentia but so so so fiercely and with your whole entire heart#all you can do is give your current self all the love you have for the child you were#jesus CHRIST
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im not gonna say you cant use the n word w a hard r on a almost fully anonymous tumblr account where you claim to be black-
I will say that it makes you 100% more suspicious and worth keeping an eye out on you bc usually its neo nazis pretending to be black that spam saying the n word w an r and use tumblrs weird trust for almost fully anonymous accounts to their advantage to get away w it
you can say it, but, if you Are a neo nazi pretending to be black, I will say, you're not doing a good job of convincing me rn that you actually are.
#got too excited you could get away w saying it ey?#inb4 'PeOpLe aLwAyS DeMaNd yOu GiVe YoUr LiFe sToRy-' bs- babe--- i wouldn't have cared or even noticed or even remarked on it#if you said it w an a. its more believable at least. lmao.#and I say bs bc ik its likely a neo nazi and ik they know that we say that a lot on tumblr- that ppl dont owe u every detail of their life#- and ik a neo nazis one of the least trustworthy people in the world so ofc they would abuse that line to get away w saying the n word#w a hard r around a bunch of progressives who have so little info about you that they dont know if they get the right to feel uncomfortable#when you say it- but personally im not built like that and i will tell you rn im uncomfortable w you saying it and idc what excuse you give#doesnt mean you hafta do whatever i say. just means I actually take a stance on shit unlike a lot of easily manipulated tumblr users.#i mean come on. its a neo nazis wet dream to run around a progressive (well. given recent events- supposedly progressive) space#and say slurs unchecked by said progressives. its one of their favorite ways of having you shut up. even if it is all done in secrecy#like the cowardly bitch made bitch built bitches they are. theyd never do it off anon or with their face exposed.#they simply cant take the heat. so the only way this type of person can feel like they've won is when they do manipulative shit like this i#secret. which is just so so sad. this is how ik the nazis are gonna lose. you're too much of a cowardly bitch to say it in front of#progressives with your whole chest.#why're you so scared? afraid you might be outnumbered? afraid you might not win as many ppl over as you think you will?#i mean cmon nows the perfect time to take the mask off right? perfect time to radicalize leftists? surely there shouldnt be#an issue waving your red flag huh? come on now. dont be shy. why are you scared? afraid you might reveal to the leftists you're#trying to indoctrinate that you're actually a hateful pos? and that you've been manipulating them to hate jewish ppl?#nah you're right joshua tyler stevenson it's probably a better idea to hide in the shadows like a bitch.#you're black on the notoriously white website? yeah. ok#i mean im sure theres just so many black ppl just dying to be here. thats why most black ppl ik hate this site 😒 for sure dawg i believe u#i mean ig if there were ever a place for a black nationalist to roam unchecked it'd be here though... generally they stick to twitter ime#its just hard to believe when I seldom see black ppl on here to begin w and most of the ones I do see are just like. normal people#w/o weird fucked beliefs. and if you are black- i think its really interesting that the black ppl with black nationalist beliefs almost#never show their faces in any capacity ever while other normal black ppl do. what are you scared of? afraid ppl irl will recognize u#and laugh?? or is it that... you're not actually a black person......... so far professor flowers is the only internet black nationalist#who's dared to show their face that ik of.
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they really dont tell you how absolutely gutwrenching it is to be a person in your very early 20s that doesnt have the opportunity to be around people your age because you dropped out of school so you're missing getting to do all of the normal young people figuring out life stuff
#i legitimately do not have any friends here and i try so hard to not let that get to me but fuck man#all i have is my partner and while i love them so much and they are so important to me#i wish i had friends here too#but i dont and theres no realistic way to make any#everyone makes their friends from going to school or something and i go to a fucking community college right jow#so like#theres nothing!#proximity friends arent always the best but at least theyre something and i miss having something#my friends from seattle are coming down to celebrate my birthday and i feel so fucking stupid about it#cause theyre normal and have friends and get to be independent and fucking whatever#and i live at home in almost complete isolation from people my age! its really fucking with my mental health i think#they have so many other people and all i have is them#and thats so frustrating cause i know they mean more to me than i do to them#it just feels like some kind of pity situation almost#like they're coming to hang out with me cause my mom asked and they feel bad for me in some way#i dont know#im so tired and i wish i felt fucking normal#and not behind#aiilov-personal
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Whenever I talk about the medical neglect and ableism I've encountered as a victim of the healthcare system, there's always some cockwaffle who feels entitled to come into my inbox and make the argument of "not all doctors" while talking about how "people like them" (because it's always someone in a field of medicine who does this) are doing their best and it's really hard because so many people fake being ill to get on welfare (Yikes), but like, yeah, obviously #not all doctors, because if all doctors were negligent, bullying scum bags, I'd be dead.
But here's the thing: while I truly believe that the majority of doctors are doing their best in a system stacked against them and their patients, their presence does not negate the mass harm caused by the bad ones. And there are far more bad ones than you realize.
Fuck, John Oliver literally did a segment on this last week:
youtube
Yes, the truly bad, malicious doctors are in the minority. Most are just horrifically burned out and fighting a losing battle against a system, killing both them and their patients through a lack of funding and resources and profound overwork.
But the malicious ones do exist, and they will go out of their way to harm patients who don't kowtow to them.
I almost lost my life because when I was in my early twenties, I told a doctor I didn't think she was listening to me, and I disagreed with her assessment of my mental health (she was not a mental health doctor, and I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain). She retaliated by putting "non-compliant" in my file.
There was also a fun little "doesn't show respect" note too that lives rent-free in my head because I know I wasn't rude. I was polite. I just didn't agree with her, and my refusal to accept her off-handed comment that "you probably have bipolar or BPD" (again, I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain) meant I was "refusing care."
I wasn't. I just refused to be slapped with a mood/personality disorder when I was there because I kept fucking fainting when I stood up.
(Spoiler alert: it was dysautonomia)
That "non-compliant" marker followed me around for years. It followed me across an ocean and effectively ensured that any doctor I saw was going to treat me like absolute dogshit because no one wants to help Difficult Patients. It wasn't until I was so undeniably ill, literally on the brink of death, that anyone helped me.
I'm alive because of a good doctor. And all the good ones that came after him because of him.
So, I know they exist. You don't have to tell me that.
But I really fucking need you to acknowledge the bad ones and that you're part of a system with a long, long history of abusing minorities and vulnerable people. I need you to acknowledge that because it's the only way we're going to survive this godforsaken nightmare and make things better.
So yeah, #notalldoctors, but if you feel the need to say that because someone talking about being literally left to die by the medical system hurts your feelings, I'm going to have to ask you to take a step back and ask yourself if you're going into medicine for the right reasons.
Namely: do you want to help people, even the "difficult" ones?
Even the ones who might disagree with you?
Even if they're on welfare?
Even if they'll never get "better" in a way that means "cured"?
Just a thought. But hey, what do I know. I'm just someone who experienced hemolytic anemia because doctors kept telling me I was anxious and needed to exercise more 🤷♀️.
#chronic health tag#medical abuse#medical neglect#medical#ableism#to all the good health care workers who follow me and leave supportive comments: I appreciate you so much#but you need to come get your fellow drs#and idk#give 'em a shake or something#Youtube
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alright i finally finished a little life
#SPOILERS BELOW ummmm#i havent cried so hard reading a book in a very long time lmao#i did predict willem falling in love with jude and jude commiting suicide#but i did not forsee willem dying first which was so torture and anguish#i do wish jb's meth addiction and homosexuality/specifically jude's was discussed a little bit more#i understand not really writing about jb because he isnt the main character but#why was yanagihara so deliberately avoidant of discussing homosexuality explicitly. ?#like you will talk about their careers their racial identities relationships graphic self harm scenes but that? and i cant help#but think that is somehow the line she wont cross because it's unjustifiable to relate to it somehow#like queerness is the one unrelatable unwritable subject matter....??? am i going insane#also. this book has awakened my mind to so many people who are.........bad at reading#its “”“fanbase”“” is almost like a mockery of the book itself i cant explain it but sometimes it is so painful to look at#i dont agree with people who say it's yanagihara exploiting trauma she hasnt personally experienced bc to only be able to#write abt personal experiences is a miserable and very limiting way to write#which is why in that same vien i wish she wrote more on queerness but okay whatever i digress#jude st francis reminds me of franics abernathy........it's always those fucking franics boys#and now i kind of want to reread the secret history but i also want to take a break to read smth lighter#but the only books i have at home rn is the red dragon series. is red dragon a 'lighter' read than a little life? discuss#rant over!#🫀
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Tobi: Hey, we're being treated like shit. Can you stop it?
Eklis: Can't be treated like shit if you're dead.
#clowderclaws thoughts#this is funny and also horrible and I've had it sitting in my drafts forever#this is. literally what happened. this just sums up Eklis' entire attitude#no sympathy. no care at all. no appreciation for life#just 'hey if you don't want to exist the way I want you to then try not being alive'#and really that's the way so many people fucking think and it's almost hard to comprehend
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The Playboy*
Summary: The one where you're a Playboy Bunny and Harry is Hugh's assistant. The one person you aren't allowed to love.
Word Count: 8.9k
Content Warning: 18+, smut, exhibitionsim, multiple orgasms, brief choking, overstimulation
Harry's cum is dripping down your thigh.
You can see it, glistening beneath the sunlight, making it almost impossible to look away. You’re completely and utterly mesmerized by the sight of it, but Harry pretends as though he has no clue.
After all, he has to pretend. You know he’s done this on purpose. Know that he wanted to mark you right before your photoshoot with Hugh and the other Bunnies. He's sending a message, making a statement.
And really, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Harry fucked you right and you both know it. And he can pretend all he wants that it means nothing, but you’re the best lover he’s ever had. He told you himself. And perhaps that’s why he’s done this. Why he insisted that you weren’t allowed to wipe it off or hide it. Because he wants them to see. To know who you really belong to.
No matter how hard you squeeze your thighs together or attempt to brush the sticky stain away, it remains. And Harry’s proud smirk is rather obvious even from over on the grass where he observes.
You try not to look at him. To acknowledge that sadistic glee as you keep your gaze on the camera. Because if you look at him…it’s over. You won’t be able to hide your infatuation and the last thing either of you want is for Hugh to find out.
Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice. Then again, he has too many people around him at once to pay attention to you and your wet thighs. But you know he’d be furious if he knew what his precious Bunny was doing, one of the many reasons you and Harry are forced to keep your meetings a secret.
But you know Harry likes being your secret. Perhaps just as much as you like being his. Besides, it’s only sex. No strings attached. He’s Hugh’s assistant and you’re one of the beloved Bunnies. It’s against every rule in the book for the two of you to be together, much less sleep together.
Yet here you are.
You sometimes wonder if Harry would even give you the time of day outside of your secret rendezvous. Or if he’d avoid you altogether. You want to believe it goes deeper than just sex, but truth be told, you’re too afraid to ask.
"Your lemonade, Sir."
You watch as Harry nods his thanks and takes the cold glass from the waiter. He’s far too smug for your liking, and you’d chastise him if it were any other moment.
Still, you watch him take a rather long sip as his eyes follow you from behind those dark sunglasses.
He knows you like to be watched. That you thrive off his attention. So, he gives it to you anytime he can. Even when you’re sitting on the lap of the man that employs him.
But you like to watch him, too. And the way he looks right now, with those dark curls pushed back, now slightly disheveled from when you had your hands running through them, is rather delicious.
He leans back in his seat, strong thighs spreading as he takes another sip. It’s almost criminal, and you can practically hear the sighs of the other girls as they notice, too.
He pops the first couple buttons of his shirt free, allowing for a glimpse of his tan, sweaty skin, and you feel your stomach clench. He’s taunting you now. Reminding you who’s really in charge, and you’re nearly tempted to march right over and prove him wrong.
But you know he’s thinking the same thing you are. Remembering just a few moments ago when he had you bent over a chair as he fucked you from behind.
"Tell me how good I feel."
"Fuck you."
"Tell me how deep—"
"Not deep enough. Fuck me like you mean it, Playboy."
The second he saw you in your signature bowtie, he snatched your hand and dragged you away. And you let him, because how could you not? Even if it meant you were late for the shoot and that you’d earn a very firm frown from Hugh. It was worth it, and the evidence has been painted all over your leg.
Suddenly struck with inspiration, you give a big beam to the camera before you subtly drop your hand to your thigh and swipe your finger through the mess.
You notice Harry’s eyes widen as he straightens up, wildly intrigued. But you don’t give him the satisfaction of looking, instead keeping your eyes on the lens as suck your middle finger into your mouth.
Harry knows what coats that finger and you let your lashes flutter as though to tell him how much you enjoy the taste.
Hugh laughs, thinking it's just a clever pose for the photos, but Harry knows this show is just for him and him alone.
He slides his sunglasses a bit further down his nose, eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy store.
Yet your eyes never leave the camera, your smile wide, and your glee unmeasurable. You enjoy teasing him when you know he can’t do anything about it.
And it works, if the way he begins to shift in his seat is any indication. You can practically see his erection from here, and you have to swallow a laugh as he clenches his jaw.
Finally, you decide to put him out of his misery, and steal one glance for yourself.
The moment your eyes meet, your chest nearly caves in. The tension is thick, and it feels as though the whole world has gone quiet. It’s just you and Harry, and when he bites his lip and leans back in his seat, you about lose it.
Thankfully, almost as though heaven heard your silent plea, Hugh suddenly claps his hands together and declares the shoot through. He thanks you all for your patience and time before everyone begins to part and the camera crew packs up.
You’re off his lap in seconds, moving for the refreshments so you can grab a glass of lemonade for yourself. And hopefully encourage Harry’s attention to follow you.
You feel him behind you before you even have a chance to turn around. You recognize his cologne and the soft hum in his throat and you bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning.
“Bunny,” he murmurs, and even though it’s only been a few minutes, you’ve missed the sound of his voice. Low and raspy with just a hint of an accent.
“Harold,” you return, tossing a quick look over your shoulder before moving across the yard.
However, he’s hot on your tail, giving you absolutely no room or personal space. “That was quite a show,” he says, jogging around you to catch your eye.
You only bat your lashes as you take a sip of your drink, watching as his attention zeroes in on the way your lips wrap around the straw.
He smirks.
“Enjoyed yourself, did you?” you retort innocently, attempting to brush past him again when he suddenly grabs onto your upper arm and drags you back to him.
He dips down, mouth ghosting the side of your ear as he murmurs, “I believe you owe me a taste.”
Your eyebrow quirks. “Is that so?”
“It is.” His grip tightens. “And you know it.”
You take a quick glance around the backyard just to make sure Hugh isn’t watching before you pull yourself free and turn to Harry. “Who said you deserve to taste me?”
“I believe you did. When you were coming around my cock and begging me to do it again.”
You scoff, feigning annoyance as you attempt to walk away. However, Harry is much quicker, and he snatches hold of your wrist in order to drag you across the grass and toward the pool shed in the corner of the yard.
Thankfully nobody seems to notice, and you feel your cunt throb as he gently slams you against the wall, away from any prying eyes. And he cages you there, arms on either side of your head as you bite your lip and peer up at him.
“You’ve been quite the brat, haven’t you, little one?” he nearly purrs, wedging his knee between your clenched thighs. “Trying to tease me…embarrass me. Get me in trouble.”
You blink. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“No?” He squeezes your chin. “Show me your tongue.”
Slowly, you concede. Parting your lips and extending your tongue as he tilts your head back and stares down your throat.
“Good girl. Swallowed every drop, didn’t you?”
You nod.
“S’it feel good in your tummy, baby? Hm? Did it taste as good as you imagined?”
Another nod. Quicker and more excited.
He smiles. “Then I think it’s only fair you return the favor, hm?”
You aren’t afforded the chance to answer before he’s dropping to his knees and prying your legs apart.
“Harry—”
“Shh. I’m busy,” he murmurs, flicking the button on your costume undone until he can reach your stockings and tear them down. “S’been too long.”
“It’s been twenty minutes.”
“Exactly.”
He runs his hands along your body, enjoying the way you shiver, that wicked grin is enough to ruin you. He places your foot on his shoulder while you steady yourself against the shed, your fingers already returning to his hair.
And he watches you. So desperate and eager to please. You know he’d bury himself in your cunt with no hesitation if he could, but for now…this is all you get.
It’s one of the things you adore most about him. His need to please you, even despite his ego. In fact, from the moment you met him, he’s put your pleasure first. Demanding that you sit on his face nearly every hour of the day just so he can get a small taste. Savor you on his tongue, go home with you still smeared across his chin.
Some people do drugs. Harry does pussy.
His hands slowly smooth up your leg, taking his time to appreciate your skin while admiring the way it glistens underneath the summer sun. He begins to kiss his way along your ankle and up toward your knee.
And you work to bite back a heavy sigh. You don’t tend to trip up too often, but when it comes to Harry, you find that you can never stay quiet. And you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s because he knows how to draw out every possible noise and sensation. Somehow, even his kisses leave you whining.
Either way, you know you can’t make a noise today. Because no matter how loud the group out by the pool are, it’s not nearly loud enough to drown out your pleasured whines.
And he knows it, too.
He pauses his kisses once he reaches your inner thigh and glances up through those thick lashes of his. "You think you can stay quiet, little one?" he asks, lips brushing against your skin with every word.
You force a smile. “Do it right and we’ll see.”
It’s a challenge he’s more than eager to accept. He’s been waiting far too long to get a taste of what he left behind and wastes no more time in dragging his flattened tongue along your leg to collect the salty remnants from before.
The feeling itself isn't much but watching him...you can feel your knees growing weak. Harry knows what you like to see. Knows you adore his pink lips and the rings on his fingers. Knows you like to run your hands through his gelled hair and leave your lipstick on his shirt.
He hums, rather satisfied with himself. But before he can truly have you, you both catch the sound of commotion happening near the mansion.
You have a rather hard time tearing yourself away, but you know that if you don’t check, Hugh will coming looking for you.
So, regretfully, you drop your leg from Harry’s shoulder and peer around the shed.
Hugh is standing on one of the staircases, pipe in his mouth as he claps his hands to get everyone's attention. "All right, my dears, gather 'round. You've all been doing such good work this week, and I felt it was only right to honor you. So, for the first Saturday of the summer, I've decided we must celebrate.”
The other girls cheer as you toss Harry a curious look.
He only shrugs.
"You know the rules," Hefner continues. "But I want you to have fun and just relax tonight. The real work starts next week.”
With that, he gives his adoring audience a wink before heading back inside, leaving you to sigh to yourself.
Hugh is a stickler for rules and regulations. Curfews, no outside relationships, and absolutely no visitors. He wants to keep his girls to himself, and you know that applies to you more than anyone else.
Harry is watching you closely as you finally turn back around. “He wants me there tonight,” he tells you.
You nod. You expected nothing less. “I imagine so.”
“We won’t have as much time.”
“I know.” You readjust your outfit and attempt to wipe the lustful look from your face. “I should go.”
You get ready to slip back out into the open before Harry grabs your arm for a third time.
"I'll find you," he murmurs, more so a promise than a threat. "And I will get my taste."
You can’t help but smirk as you pat his cheek lightly. “Mm. Good luck, Playboy."
There are very few times in life when you find yourself completely and utterly breathless. Transfixed beyond doubt, mesmerized by one singular moment in time when you can't move or speak.
For you, that happened when you saw Harry enter the room for the very first time.
And then it happened again…when he slid inside you later that same night.
Two moments, one man.
One incredibly ethereal, divine, godlike man.
You hadn't expected Hugh's party to be all that exciting, but it was one of Harry’s first parties as Hugh’s assistant. Turns out…that meant something.
You had specific instructions to stay close to Hugh throughout the evening, as his favorite Bunny, and Harry had instructions to stay close as the assistant. But unlike you, Harry was instructed to follow from behind. Not to interact with any of the guests. And definitely not to be seen or heard.
But from the moment he entered the room, you knew it would be nearly impossible for anyone to keep their eyes off him.
He walked in as though surrounded by light, drawing everyone’s attention to those dark curls and that charming smile.
You couldn’t look away, so spellbound by his presence that you didn’t even realize Hugh was right beside him.
Instantly, you knew that would complicate things.
Still, you liked the challenge. And as it turned out, Harry did, too. Because while you were busy seeing him, he was busy seeing you.
Your eyes met through the crowd, even despite the many bodies and loud music. You felt yourself being drawn closer as you pushed your way toward the center of the room in a desperate attempt just to be close.
Harry did the same.
You wondered if Hugh knew what a threat Harry posed to his brand. After all, Hugh loved being the center of attention and Harry was so effortlessly stealing the attention for himself.
But it didn’t matter in that moment because Harry’s attention was yours, and once you both found your way to the center of the living room…everything changed.
You did your best to study him. Those gorgeous, textured curls. The unusual shade of green in his eye. That strong jaw that seemed to accentuate his sharp but handsome features.
He was wearing a white t-shirt that hugged each of his muscles in a way that left little to the imagination. He looked clean. Put together. So refined that all you wanted to do was trail your hands down his chiseled chest before you tore is shirt off.
And that’s when it happened.
The Moment.
Ever since that night, the two of you have been inseparable. Fucking any chance you get. In the kitchen, in the car, in the closet. His hand over your mouth, forcing you to stay silent in case Hugh might be somewhere in the mansion—which he always is.
In fact, there’s never a moment when you aren't the focus of each other's attention. Day or night, all you can think about is when you’ll see him next. Creating moments to run into each other. Planning meetings. Making excuses to find time alone.
And as it turns out, tonight is no different.
You know Hugh will be around. And even worse, he’ll be making his favorite Bunny the center of attention.
Which just means you’ll have to try a little harder to get Harry alone.
Most of the crowd will be desperate to talk to you. They always are, after all. They’ll follow you around, ask you questions, want to be in your presence.
And Harry will be somewhere hidden, keeping to himself so he’s neither seen nor heard. Although the rest of the Bunnies make that quite difficult.
For some reason, Hugh doesn’t mind if the others pay Harry a bit of attention. He only seems to mind if you do. And even though Harry will never admit it, Hugh’s possession over you makes him quite jealous.
He doesn’t enjoy the idea of having to share you, much less with a whole crowd of people and greedy men. They’ll take up all of your time. Time that should be reserved for him.
Truth be told, you find it rather cute.
So, you try to make it worth it. You sway your hips to a song just because he’s watching.
You run your hands down your body, smoothing them over each and every one of his favorite curves.
You dangle a cherry over your tongue before taking it between your lips, your cheeks hollowing as you suck the sweet fruit into your mouth.
It drives him absolutely mad, and you can already see him fighting the temptation to stride over to you right now.
You’re sitting by the pool, legs dangling over the side as you chat with Paul Newman. He’s leaning his body closer and closer toward yours, inviting himself into your space as you laugh and throw your head back with glee just to give Harry a proper show.
You do your best to flirt with the handsome man—which isn’t all that difficult, really—before you notice Harry march himself over to the drink stand.
Instantly, he begins chatting up Sophia Loren. One of the most stunning women you think you’ve ever seen and immediately, your eyes narrow.
So that’s how he wants to play it.
He’s not subtle about the way he stares at her, raking his eyes up and down her figure rather shamelessly. And she smiles, eating up his attention until you nearly chip a tooth from how hard you’re gritting your teeth.
It’s rather cute, all things considered. He’s really trying to make you jealous. But why should you be? Paul Newman is every bit as handsome, if not more, and happens to be someone you can actually sit and have a conversation with.
In fact, Hugh was the one who set it up. He introduced the two of you and insisted you get to know each other.
You knew what he really wanted from the interaction, but neither you nor Paul will be entertaining such an idea. After all, he is happily married. And you just enjoy getting to know him.
Paul is still chatting away as you both swing you legs through the warm water, and even though you can’t help feeling rather starstruck by those gorgeous blue eyes…you’re remind of a pair of green ones that are currently still checking out someone else.
So, you gently put your hand on Paul’s chest in a subtle signal for him to wind his story down. You tell him that you’re going to go grab a drink and he nods before helping you stand from the pool.
You make your way for the bar—rather aware of the number of eyes on you as you walk—yet Harry still seems to be rather immersed in his conversation with the starlet. And now you aren’t sure if this really is just for show or if she truly has caught his eye.
Either way, you decide a little eavesdropping can’t hurt. So, you subtly make your way around the pool and toward the back of the drink station, just out of sight. Close enough to hear, but not so close as to be seen.
“Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” Harry is asking, and you catch just a glimpse of those dimples.
Sophia hums, looking around the large backyard that seems to sparkle underneath such a dark sky. "Oh, yes. Hugh always throws the best parties."
"He does. Are you here with someone?"
You suck in a quiet breath while Sophia laughs, shaking out her perfectly styled curls. “No, not at all. I like to…come alone. Window shop.”
“Window shop?” Harry repeats with a smirk.
“Yes. I like to see what’s to be seen. To decide if I’ll be leaving alone as well.”
Harry chuckles, and the sound of it makes your stomach flutter. “I see. Well, I have to admit, that does sound like an excellent plan.”
Sophia studies him. “And…you? Will you be leaving alone?”
Harry runs his tongue over his lip before glancing toward the spot near the pool where you once were. But once he notices you’re missing, his eyebrow raises. “I hope not.”
She smiles. “Come,” she says, taking his hand. “We dance.”
With that, she leads him toward the middle of the yard where a few people are already swaying to the music.
You watch them dance with a rather wounded expression, doing your best to remind yourself what this really is.
You don’t imagine Sophia will be taking him home tonight—he’s handsome, but she’s far out of his league—yet you can’t help that spark of jealousy that finally burns in your chest.
What Harry lacks in brains he makes up for in charisma. And he looks rather breathtaking out there, moving his hips to the melody and grabbing at her waist while she laughs and swings her arms around his neck.
For a moment, you almost wish that you could dance with him like that. So open and uninhibited. But you know that this arrangement only lasts for the summer. Once fall comes, the two of you will part ways, and the fun will be through.
Eventually, the two of them return to the bar for more drinks, and you’re forced to scurry back out of sight just in time to ear the rest of their conversation.
"She is...stunning,” Sophia says as they approach.
Harry’s head tilts. “Who?”
“The woman you keep looking for.”
Harry grins as he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Hm.” She takes a sip of her drink as she watches him. “One cannot win a game if the other player doesn’t know they are playing.”
"Maybe. But I’m not playing any games.”
She scoffs. “Aren’t you? Talking to me but wanting her?”
Harry seems rather surprised by this, and you feel yourself grin as you finally breeze your way around the corner in full view of them both.
“A scotch, please, darling,” you call to the bartender before glancing to your left. “Oh! Hi, Sophia. Harold.”
Sophia laughs. “Hello, dear. Fantastic party. You look beautiful.”
“As do you,” you return. “So happy you made it, despite your current choice in companion.”
Harry’s eyes roll.
“Oh, he’s not so bad,” she says, reaching up to wipe her thumb across his bottom lip. “Rather…sweet.”
Harry feigns a smug smirk even though you can tell he’s rather surprised by the action.
Still, you refuse to play along. “I suppose he can be when Hugh isn’t around.”
She chuckles to herself before offering you a quick kiss to the cheek before bidding the two of you goodbye so she can make the rounds.
Rather satisfied, you give Harry a proud look of your own before grabbing your drink and turning on your heel.
But, true to form, he’s chasing after you and taking a handful of your hip in order to bring you to a stop.
“Bunny,” he warns beneath a raspy breath. “I thought I made myself clear—”
“I don’t know what you mean, I was only chatting,” you retort, pulling yourself from his hand with a huff.
“No, you were not. You were being a brat and I’d like you to stop.”
“Stop what? Being delightful?”
“No. Stop toying with me.” He regards you carefully. “I know what you’re doing.”
"I'm talking. After all, that is my job—"
"No, your job is to be a good little Bunny, and do as you're told," he argues, straightening up so he has the advantage of height. "And I’m telling you that I will not play these games with you any longer.”
“What games?”
“The game where you try to rub my nose in that,” he says, gesturing angrily toward Paul.
“It’s not a game. He’s quite delightful. And I don’t believe I’m quite through with him yet—”
“Enough,” he seethes, suddenly yanking you back to him. “You know you don't want to talk to him. Or entertain his sad attempts at flirting. So, give it up, and come with me—"
"Beg me."
He leans back. “Excuse me?”
“Beg me,” you repeat calmly, even though your pussy is just about throbbing from the possessive tone of voice.
His head cocks. “I said end this—"
"Beg me, and maybe I will.”
He looks at you for another moment more before his eyes flick toward the mansion in search of Hugh. Having this conversation in such an open space is rather reckless, especially with so many witnesses. But you just can’t help it. He never seems to listen.
Harry knows his time is running out, as well as his patience, so he runs a hand through his hair and releases a strained exhale.
“Fine,” he concedes darkly. “Fine. Please…end this. And come with me.”
You bite back a smile. "Hm... I don't know, Paul and I were just having such a good time—"
"Please," he repeats, almost viciously. "Fucking end this. Now.”
By now, you know exactly what Harry's last straw looks like. What it sounds like. His voice, twisted with need and lust, becomes hoarser the closer he creeps to desperation. His grip becomes tighter, and his pupils nearly blow-out with desperation.
It happens when he's fucking into you so hard that you see stars. When his tongue is so far inside you that neither of you can breathe. And when you’re taking him so well down your throat that you think you’ll sink right through the floor.
It's the same voice. The same urgency. And you can’t help but feel a little intrigued.
You nod. “Fine.”
"Good. Meet me in the coat closet," he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. "Five minutes."
"Harry—"
“Go,” he repeats, before releasing you so he can slip inside the mansion.
You don’t need to be told twice. You immediately make your way for the door, weaving your way through the crowd in search of that familiar closet.
The inside of the house is packed with people. It’s loud and chaotic and there are more celebrities here than you can name.
But right now, you couldn’t care less. There’s only one person on your mind. One beautiful body that you can’t wait to run your hands down and it’s only five minutes away.
Once you’ve hidden yourself away in the small, dark space, you imagine all the things he might do. One of his favorites is watching the way he disappears inside you. The way your pussy stretches open to take his cock until you’re both a rather wet mess. You don’t doubt that he’ll find a way to do so tonight, and the thought makes you giddy.
Or perhaps he’ll blindfold you. Cut off all your senses until he’s all you know. Maybe you’ll blindfold him, another favorite.
Truthfully, it doesn’t really matter what he does as long as he does it. Because even the thought leaves you breathless.
The door swings open exactly two minutes later. Harry is quick to lock you both in and turn on the light, twisting the bulb between his fingers until you can see everything you couldn’t before. Mostly coats and hats, but then…him. Somehow just as stunning as he was a few minutes ago, and smiling in a way that makes you want to drag him to his knees.
“You obeyed,” he whispers, stepping up to you until he can softly run his palm along your cheek. “You are a good little bunny after all, aren’t you?”
You pull your lip between your teeth. “Only when I think you deserve it.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
He leans closer, nose brushing against yours. “And do I still deserve that taste?”
Your lashes flutter before you forcefully push him away and point to his belt. “Take off your pants.”
You don’t want to have to rush, but you know Hugh will be looking for you soon so you can be by his side for his grand speech. Which means you’ll have to save the sensual looks and teasing touches for another day.
He starts with his shirt instead of his pants (just to spite you), grabbing at his collar before slipping the fabric over his head. Then he reaches for his zipper and drags it down, as slowly as he can all while keeping his eyes on yours.
With a rather unamused huff, you finally swat his hands out of the way in order to do it yourself.
You yank the dark material down his legs, taking note of the boxers around his hips that practically call to you. You allow your fingers to slowly trail along his thighs. Higher and higher, groping at the strong flesh as he sighs and watches you with flushed cheeks.
Finally, you move for the band at his waist, pulling on it until it snaps back against his stomach, making him grunt.
He drops his head back with a curse, but once you start to drag your tongue along his abs…it’s game over.
His hand is instantly in your hair, tugging at the scalp as though to remind you who’s really in charge. But you can feel his muscles quivering beneath your tongue and you hum when you hear him exhale your name.
You reach his pecs, taking a moment to brush your lips over his hardened nipple. He doesn’t seem to understand why this feels so good, but he enjoys it, and he certainly enjoys watching you do it, too.
You never leave him unsatisfied. You don’t think you could even if you tried. Sometimes, all you have to do is kiss him, and he’s nearly coming in his shorts as he grinds you against his lap.
He knows his pleasure isn’t nearly as important as yours, but he enjoys the time you dedicate to him, nonetheless.
You graze the nipple with your teeth, pulling it ever so slightly until he hisses, head dipping as your foreheads meet.
He wraps his fingers around the back of your neck with a firm squeeze before he’s pulling you up and kissing you hard. He starts with his tongue, exploring your mouth like it’s the first time, and honestly…it almost feels like it is.
Teeth clash, noses brush, breaths are stolen. You devour each other, greedy hands roaming freely, tangling in each other's hair.
"Can’t fucking stand you," he nearly groans against your mouth, his hips knocking into yours as he keeps you trapped against his chest. "Teasing me all night. Playing with me."
"You love it," you pant. "Love it when I play with you."
He grins. “Maybe I do.”
His hand moves to your one-piece until he finds the apex of your thighs. He smooths his palm along your cunt, cupping you harshly as you reel. He wants to feel how warm you are—how wet and desperate.
And you want him to feel it, too.
You swallow a needy sigh, almost as though you can’t let him hear. He can’t know how good this really feels. How depraved you really are of his touch. How starved.
But he knows. You know he knows, even through one little kiss.
It’s maddening.
He grabs onto the corset, ready to rip it down and reveal your chest to his hungry eyes, but you quickly snatch his wrist.
“No,” you exhale, shaking your head slightly. “Can’t rip it. Gentle.”
He scoffs, almost as though the thought of being gentle with you is absurd. Still, he knows Hugh would notice if your outfit has been torn, so he obeys, and unzips you instead.
The suit falls away, finally allowing him a good look at what you’ve been hiding from him all night.
Instantly, he’s got your tits in his hands, pulling at the tender flesh with a lewd grunt.
“Pretty,” he murmurs before sucking one into his mouth. “Fucking killing me, Bunny.”
Like a starved wolf, he starts to leave a trail of kisses wherever he can. Sloppy kisses that make you shiver as you fist his curls and laugh at the feel of your nipple between his teeth.
He swirls his tongue just the way you did, then flicks it gently while you sigh in his ear. Eventually, his fingers make their way to their previous spot, brushing at your inner thighs as though to warn you. And you’re given only a few seconds to prepare before he’s slipping the middle one inside and making you gasp.
The noise is covered by the loud music outside of the door, but Harry still hears it, and he beams as he starts to pump you slowly.
Your body invites him in the way it always does, squeezing him gently and clenching as though to keep him close.
“Shit,” he curses, once again pressing his mouth to yours. “Missed this pretty pussy, baby.”
His large digit suddenly curls upward, motioning a moan from your lips and there it is. That’s what you needed.
You hold onto him for dear life, already lost in the feel. He's always been rather exceptional at touching you. At knowing your body better than anyone else does.
You’ve tried to replicate his actions on yourself, tried to make yourself cum as hard as he makes you when he’s the one doing it. But it's never the same. It feels like a waste of time to even try. It'll be weak and short. Pitiful. And trying again never works because it's just as disappointing as the first time.
But Harry…with his long fingers, his firm hand, his ravenous lips. Nothing will ever compare.
"Feel so good, sweetheart," he praises, lips staining your skin as he kisses the hollow of your neck. "Good girl. Lift for me, yeah?"
You obey, offering him your leg which he's quick to hook around his waist, spreading your open a bit further so he can slide himself deeper inside.
Another finger, another curl, another pinch. His thumb presses into your clit, circling it rapidly, making you whine into his shoulder. You can feel the coil already ready to snap, hardly surprised by how quickly you got here, but you know he’ll make sure to drag it on for as long as possible.
And as if to prove this, he slips his fingers out, and raises them to his lips. You nearly wilt right then and there, but you manage to hold your impatient façade as you cock your eyebrow upward before yanking his hand out and kissing him.
You can taste yourself on his lips, something you always seem to enjoy. The mix of you both together.
And this is when he decides to ruin you, plunging his fingers back in with vigor until he hits that perfect spot. The one that has you gasping for air and moaning his name.
Your chest heaves with deep breaths. You’re close and you know it won’t be long until your cunt is fluttering around his hand and you’re dripping down his wrist. But you need more than that. Especially because this is the last time you’ll be with him for a while.
So, you grab onto his jaw and forcefully bring his eyes to yours.
“No,” you hiss. “Not like this. Fuck me like you mean it, Playboy.”
He hums, all without slowing his rhythm. “Impatient, little one?”
“Obviously.”
He makes an amused noise, but he doesn’t stop his thrusts. He plans to make you cum just like this before he fucks you and you don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.
You move your hand to his throat, squeezing the sides gently as you feel him swallow. His pulse is pounding beneath your fingertips, blown-out pupils glued to yours as you add just the slightest bit of pressure.
His soft inhale makes your stomach flutter. You happen to adore him like this, on the verge of complete submission. Merciless at your feet.
But you know it won’t last long. And once his eyelids begin to flutter, you yank him down for another kiss. Stealing the only breath he has left.
You can practically feel his cock twitching against your thigh as you tug his curls and suck on his tongue. But he’s not one to be outdone, and he continues rubbing your clit as quickly as he can, sweeping his fingers in a circle while you roll your hips against his hand.
"Gentle, sweetheart," he warns, throwing your own instruction back at you.
You want to retort with a quippy remark of your own but choose instead to lick a stripe along his jaw. That suffices as your reply.
You don't have a lot of time, at least not for games. You’re playing against the clock, and you know Hugh will be calling for you any second.
Any other night, Harry would most likely edge you all the way to the brink. But tonight, he knows better, and he does everything he can to make you cum.
And when you do, you nearly lose your balance. It’s one of the most blinding and toe-curling orgasms you’ve ever had in your life. So much better than when you do it alone and you’re so grateful for his cocky attitude for the first time all summer.
Your body melts into his as you start to come down from your high. You almost wish it would never end. The way his lips feel on your cheek. The sound of his soft, proud praises in your ear. It’s everything.
But you know that’s not what he’s good for. So, instead, you push him away and step back. “Down.”
He looks at you. “Down?”
You nod toward the floor. “You wanted a taste. So take a taste, sweetheart.”
He crosses his arms. “Mm. Ask me nicely.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ask me nicely to eat you out and maybe I will.”
Your expression falls flat. “Take the goddamn taste, Harold, or I will go out there and find somebody who will.”
He’s amused, but you know he’s also nervous. He doesn’t like the idea that you’d take yourself from him, so, he clears his throat and slowly lowers to his knees.
Exactly where he belongs.
His head bows, something he doesn’t do quite that often, and your heart soars. He looks beautiful like this. Submissive and good. Everything you know he’s not.
You brush your fingers through the curls draping across his forehead and he seems to settle into your touch before you’re hooking your finger under his chin and lifting his head.
Your eyes meet, a look of utter reverence written across his face as he gazes at you with awe and respect. And your stomach nearly twists as you whisper, “You know what to do.”
And he does. His mouth turns up in a gentle smile as he slowly reaches for your ankle. He resumes his earlier position, the bottom of your heel on top of his shoulder for access, and his other hand reaching to grab your hip and pull you towards his face.
You immediately bite your lip, anticipating the noises that are about to follow.
Similar to this afternoon, he starts gentle, pressing kisses into your thighs ever so slowly. You know you’re soaking him. Can hear it and see it, even in the dim closet light.
He drags his tongue up your leg, collecting every drop that’s at his disposal, while you continue pushing back his hair so you can see him clearly.
Finally, he reaches your swollen clit, still sensitive from his last assault, before he’s eagerly tracing it with the tip of his tongue.
You writhe in his hands, head turning to the side as you open your mouth to exhale a curse. And this seems to feed his ego because he repeats the action again, nose pressing into your hip as he inhales you like you’re fresh air on a spring day. Like you’re the only thing he wants in his lungs—the only breath he wants to take.
You pull his head closer as though to encourage him, and your name falls from his lips like rain.
“My sweet Bunny,” he nearly groans. “Can never get enough of you.”
“Good,” is all you can say. “We don’t have a lot of time, though. You need to be quick.��
“Who says I’m through? You owe me, sweetheart.”
You give his curls a sharp yank. “No. Get up and fuck me.”
He pouts, feigning a tantrum, but you know his cock is throbbing rather pitifully for you. So, he obliges, standing to his feet while you gather yourself in wait.
He tugs down his boxers, the only fabric left between you, and you try not to stare as you grab onto his shoulders and prepare to sink down.
“Five minutes,” you instruct softly. “Make it count.”
However, before you can feel that glorious tip pushing its way through, he’s suddenly grabbing onto your hips and spinning you around. Shoving you against the coat closet wall as you gasp.
Instantly, his hand comes up to slap against your lips. “Hush now," he hisses against your ear. "Unless you want Hugh to know what I'm really doing to his pretty girl?"
You’d roll your eyes if you didn’t feel his hips knocking into yours, giving you just a taste of what’s to come. Instead, you glance over your shoulder in an attempt to see him, and nod once.
But this isn’t good enough. So, he reaches for the bowtie around your neck, pulling on it until it snaps off into his hand. He holds it as though it were a prize he won in battle before he’s slipping it over your head and into your mouth.
You take it between your teeth and bite down obediently.
“Good,” he hums, giving your ass a quick spank. The sound echoes between the small walls. “That’s much better, hm?”
You feel him drag his cock through your dripping folds while his other hand ghosts down the curve of your spine. He’s gentle with you, despite his cruel taunting, and you’re almost impressed. Infatuated, even.
His warm body feels so good against yours. Luring you into a sense of security you can’t seem to find anywhere else. And you rather enjoy it as you feel the thickness of him starting to stretch you open.
You moan around the tie while Harry grunts in your ear. Just like the first time the two of you found yourselves in this position.
And exactly like every other time before, he doesn’t rush you. He lets you feel—lets you enjoy—every inch and every second. Any other time, he’d make you beg. Beg him to go harder, go deeper. But tonight, you can’t, and it’s almost a shame he won’t get to hear it.
Instead, you offer a muffled whimper that seems to do the trick, and he chuckles to himself. “Need more, don’t you?”
You nod quickly, and he wraps his arms around your stomach in order to tug you back and guide you along his cock the way he wants.
He goes faster. His five minutes is now down to four, and he knows he’ll have to make this quicker than usual. Sharp, hard thrusts that make your legs shake and your heart race. But somehow, it’s still not enough.
“You like to play with me, don’t you, hm?” he begins to taunt. An angrier tone than before. “Make me watch you? With him?”
Your eyes nearly roll back, and you whine against the fabric on your tongue.
"Think I don't know?" he scoffs. "Think I don't know who this pussy belongs to?"
He starts to slow. A rather achingly languid pace that’s meant to make you scream, and you nearly do.
“I do,” he promises in a dark whisper. “I know exactly who you belong to.”
You arch your back and reach for his hair. Pulling his face into your neck as he leaves a trail of wet kisses all the way down to your shoulder.
“So stay,” he murmurs. “Stay with me. Don’t go back to him. Don’t make me jealous, Bunny. Don’t make me watch him touch you. Please.”
Please.
A word he rarely uses, even when you instruct him to. But it sounds so beautiful between his lips, and you nearly tell him you’ll never leave him again.
But you know he doesn’t mean it. It’s just what you say in a moment like this. So, you whimper, and tug on him harder. Pretending to agree until he smiles.
The small coat room has become a sauna, your naked bodies now writhing together as the rest of the world continues on around you.
You can hear the music, the people, the party. A constant reminder that while you’ve disappeared into your own little world within this closet...the two of you will never truly be alone.
But you don’t get a chance to focus on that when his hand suddenly reaches around to take hold of your chest. Plucking your nipple between his large, rough fingertips. You brace your forehead against the wall as you push yourself into his palm. Anxious for more, which he happily gives you.
The two of you move like the tide, one fluid motion of your bodies in rhythmic harmony. He leaves your tit to focus on your clit. Forcing you closer to a second orgasm that already feels much stronger than the first.
"Here," he breathes. “Give me your hand. Want you to touch yourself for me, okay? So I can watch you.”
Your arm trembles as you move it toward your thighs, where he easily takes your fingers and places them against your pussy exactly the way his had been.
“Just like that. Good. Rub it for me, sweetheart. Yeah…there you go. Attagirl. Keep going, don’t stop.”
You feel his eyes over your shoulder as you pinch and rub the swollen nerves as your legs shake. After a moment, he grabs your thigh and lifts your knee to the wall. Giving himself a different and deeper angle as you nearly cry out around the bowtie in your mouth.
Everything feels wet. And warm. And perfect. And you know you’re moments away from coming around his cock for the second time today.
“How you doing, baby?” he chuckles when he notices the fucked-out expression on your face. “You all right?”
You nod as best you can and clench down on his cock for confirmation. And he makes a rather animalistic noise before he’s grabbing onto your tit again and groping it in his palm.
“Good. You gonna cum for me, little one? Milk me like I know you can?”
Another nod. You can hear the party growing louder, which means it’s almost midnight. And that means Hugh’s speech will be any second now.
You’re squirming harder, unable to fight such intense pleasure as it comes from his cock and your fingertips. But he catches you, grip tightening around your thigh as he squeezes so hard, you know you’ll see bruises in the shape of his name tomorrow.
But you don’t mind. You know you’ll be able to touch them in the shower and remember this—remember him.
“Cum,” he instructs, almost viciously. “Right now, Bunny. Fucking cum. Let me feel you. Gotta feel you, honey, please.”
You roll yourself back onto his cock just to feel full while he kisses your jaw and begs you to let go.
You’re so close you can nearly taste it. And he’s even closer than you, doing his best to hold out but you know it’s rather hard with the watch you’re squeezing him.
And when you feel him start to buck and twitch, you can’t help but smile.
He spills inside you as he bottoms out. He hates coming first, and always tries incredibly hard not to. But tonight, you can’t exactly fault him, and as it turns out, the feel of him inside you—so warm it makes your head spin—is what you need to follow.
The orgasm nearly explodes behind your eyelids as you scream into the tie, forcing Harry to slap his hand back over your mouth to silence you.
“Quiet,” he hisses, nose pressed against your cheek. “Shut up.”
Yet you don’t even try. You don’t care that you might get caught or that someone could hear. Perhaps you will once the consequences catch up to you, but right now? Right now, you moan into his hand and allow every moment of this pleasure to take control of you.
Your sweaty bodies melt together, damp hair clinging to your skin as Harry finally lets go and steps back.
But instead of pulling his clothes back on, the sadistic man drops back down to his knees, and spins you around.
He brushes your hand away from your clit in order to do the work himself. Resuming his previous pace on your rather abused nerves until you nearly crumble to the floor.
It’s almost too much. Your eyes roll back and your head drops against the wall. You can’t stand it, yet you can’t get enough.
“One more,” is all he says before diving forward for a lick. “Just one more, baby.”
You’re too sensitive. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you watch him through the blissful haze as he closes his eyes to savor the taste.
It’s a mix of you and him, and watching him lap at you like a thirsty man desperate for a drink is sinful. He’s so good. So beautiful like this. Devoted just to you the way no other man ever has been before.
Outside, you can hear the sound of Hugh calling for everyone’s attention. Your heart leaps into your throat. He’ll be furious if you’re not there. If he has to find you. And if he finds you with Harry?
You don’t have any more time. You have to go. Right now. But you’re so close, and Harry isn’t stopping, and you just need to finish, you just need…need—
You cum for the third and final time with a rather lewd and anguished moan.
Instantly, you start to slump forward as Harry leaps to his feet in order to keep you upright.
“That’s my girl,” he coos. “There you go. I’ve got you. S’okay.”
Your vision is fuzzy as you grip onto his shoulders for balance, the taste of the orgasm still bleeding along your tongue.
But you can’t bid him goodbye just yet. So, you rip the tie from your mouth and kiss him. Drowning in the taste of him and you together. And nothing else really matters except his hands and the way they hold you close.
“Good boy,” you exhale after you’ve pulled apart.“Knew you could do it.”
He only grins.
The two of you quickly work to redress, pulling on your clothes and shoes while Harry’s cum continues to streak down your thighs. It seems he didn’t get it all, and the realization that you’ll have to go out there with him still snug inside your cunt makes your stomach flutter.
When Harry notices your surprised expression, he winks. “Wanna make sure you’re thinking of me when you’re standing next to him.”
You scoff. But deep down, you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Harry helps you secure the tie back around your neck, effectively covering the hickeys he so generously left for you to find later. And you make sure to brush back his curls so they look a little more tame before swiping your thumb across his chin to collect what’s left of you.
And once you’ve finally gathered yourself, you move for the door, only stopping to give him one last glance.
“This was nice,” you tell him honestly. “Just make me a deal, okay?”
His eyebrow raises.
“Next time? Don’t wait so long.”
With that, you’re out the door. Leaving the breathless man behind. But you know it certainly isn’t the last time you’ll see him. After all, the summer is far from over.
And you’re just getting started.
HI!!! I just wanted to say that even though we have a Hugh Hefner in this story, I don't consider it to be the same one as the real one! I used his name because he's so famously associated with Playboy but I do not agree with or condone anything that he's done or how he treated people!
I am only using his name, but please imagine anyone you'd like! 💞
~ Main Masterlist
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin
@justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda
@vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach
@lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana
@dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat
@laelamarley @idkkkkkkk123lgb
#harry#harry styles#harry edward styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles smut#harry styles imagine#harry styles x you#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan#harry styles request#harry styles concept#smut#concept#dom!harry#domrry#harry and bunny#playboy harry#the playboy#1965#playboy!harry
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KITTY KAT — art donaldson + reader : art has a tendency to show up late to your lessons.
tags: mdni, tennis lessons, coach!art donaldson, p in v sex, fingering, art is kind of an asshole, cheating (not on reader)
a/n: sorry to tashi… this goes out to my dear @murdrdocs
thirty minutes ago.
art donaldson was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, your teeth grit against each other, foot tapping impatiently against the concrete floor below you.
art was a sweet guy, sure, but his time management was beyond infuriating. it almost made you feel like he thought himself above you, like you weren’t worth his time.
“one to talk,” you mumble to yourself, dragging your racket on the ground, “rich from the guy who was coached by his wife.”
ahem.
you spin around, and of course, he’s standing right there, looking the same as he always does. his dirty blonde hair was messed up and falling over his eyebrows, blue eyes, with a mix of brown, staring directly at you with an almost amused expression.
you blink at him, once, twice.
a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “sorry for being late.”
it sounds condescending, like he would never actually mean it, especially not after what he heard, it felt like a sort of karma for what you were previously saying about him.
and he knows that, of course he does, so he masks it with a sense of sweetness, one that would typically gaslight people into thinking they’ve been forgiven, but you know better.
you’ve been coached by art for a while now, and his little habits became far too predictable. this was odd, though, you couldn’t make out the glint in his eye, especially when you mumble a, “sorry, i didn’t mean—“
“let’s get started, yeah?” art cuts in, bitter, yet his voice still sounded like it was dipped in honeysuckle.
he whisks right past you with that same, tugged up smirk, he reeked of rich cologne and mint.
your lips press together and you silently, albeit ashamed, nod in agreement.
maybe silence will earn points back from your coach.
𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾
silence did not earn anything.
art served hard, hit the ball hard, it was as if he wanted to make the ball break through your racket and hit you square in the face. he clearly took your miniscule words personally, and he was testing you, trying to break you down, to see how much you could take until your bones turned soft and you felt like giving up.
the first time you called a pause, art smiled, “don’t tell me you’re giving up.”
“pause,” you repeat through heaved breaths, sweat sticking to your skin underneath the relentless sun. art had that same playful look in his eyes that he always did, he knew that what he was doing was working, he knew that he was getting under your skin, and as cruel as it sounds, he really did enjoy it.
if you ever were to ask him about it, he’d just shrug and say it’s all a part of the practice, it always happens in tennis, especially professional, he’s just preparing you. but deep down, he really just wanted to say that he was doing it for those reasons but for his own personal pleasures, karma comes in many forms, but art picks the harshest form first.
he watches you drink water with a desperate urgency, stifling his own chuckles, “you sure you’re okay?”
“‘m fine,” you speak after gulping down the last drop, finally satisfied, “let’s keep going.”
art’s brows furrow ever so slightly, but as soon as you’re back to being ready, he rolls the tennis ball in his hand a little, observing it, before throwing it up in the air and sending it your way. he’s so casual with every hit, despite his grunts and the way his nose scrunches whenever ball meets racket, he makes it look like it’s nothing.
to make it even worse, he starts trying to conversate between passes, “you know—“ smack! another grunt leaves his lips, “it’s really rude to—“ smack! “speak about people behind their—“ smack! “fuck.. backs.”
you’re so busy trying to decipher his words you almost miss the next hit, but thankfully you snap out of the trance quick enough to hit it last minute, which he chuckles at and quickly sends it back.
smack! “‘m sorry, art, really—“ your shoes scratch against the concrete below, smack! “i was being very—“ smack! “childish, i apologize.”
he hums, content with your apologies, but still not outwardly saying he forgives you, instead his hits start to soften, he’s less trying to kill you with the ball and now rather trying to actually play tennis. “you’re all good—“ he confirms, smack! “just make it up to me, yeah?”
ball meets floor, his words had completely caught you off guard, and you missed your hit on the ball he sent your way. you felt almost stupid, standing there, staring at him and trying to decipher what he meant by making it up to him.
and of course, he didn’t elaborate, he never did, he simply just picked up another ball, smiled at you, and said, “ready?”
𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾
art said he forgave you, right?
ever since that day, he’s been acting.. off. he was more focused on your figure now, not in a crude way, but in a way where he wanted you to position yourself correctly when playing. he watches you serve the ball, then his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek and he stands, “hey, hey, wait a second— your uh… your stance is wrong.”
“it is?” it was the fifth time he’s corrected you, today, and it’s safe to say you were getting annoyed, he picked up on the bitterness of your tone as he approached you.
“‘ts not my fault, kitty cat,” he shrugged simply, noticing the way your eyes narrow in frustration at his nickname, he only smiles. he leans in behind you, “may i?” his hands are ghosting over your arms from behind.
“whatever helps,” you remark.
“good,” it’s softly spoken at the shell of your ear, making you swallow thick, his fingers wrap around your wrist, other one holding your fingers grip on the racket’s handle. his grip is tight, yet gentle at the same time, veins flexing against his flesh with every movement as he helps you move into the right position. “just gotta.. do it like this,” he’s still whispering against your ear, nearly making your knees buckle.
once he’s satisfied with your position, which is far too quick for your liking, he backs off and lets you serve the ball again. he smiles once he’s gotten what he’s wanted, “perfect.”
eventually, after a while of hitting the ball, you decided to take a break. there was a silence between you and art, a tension you couldn’t place, you had nothing to blame it on, nothing to apologize for, and he constantly looked like he was trying to say something indescribable.
“hey,” he starts, before tugging his bottom lip under his tongue for a mere second before continuing, “remember when i said you had to make it up to me?”
you stare at him, curious, “yeah, of course.”
“you know,” his hands smooth over each other, skin underneath his right eye twitching as his pupils dilate in thought, “i’ve been having a.. problem, lately.”
“with tennis?”
“nono,” he laughs nervously, moving to scratch the back of his neck, “it’s personal, y’know? well— not entirely, since ‘m telling you, but uh— actually, nevermind.”
𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾
you and art hadn’t discussed much after the last meet, you found yourself standing in the court yet again, whilst he was no short of an hour late at this point. you wanted to ask him what his deal is lately, what his problem is, but he wasn’t even here to be questioned. it was almost ridiculous, like he was toying with you.
“i like your skirt,” it comes out of nowhere, but it’s the same, smooth voice that art holds.
yet again, you find yourself spinning around to meet him, he’s closer, now, clearly eyeing you— but that’s.. weird, is it not? he has a wife, he shouldn’t be complimenting your obviously short skirt, or eyeing you like that, or wishing to tell you things that he had apparently not told anyone else because it’s personal. but who are you to question his relationship? maybe he’s just.. being nice, really.
“thank you,” you offer, nice, short, sweet.
he rolls his shoulder, meeting your eyes, flickering his gaze to your lips for a mere second, then saying nothing and walking by. rich cologne and mint. that’s what wafts into your senses immediately, as if it was some sort of distraction from his odd behaviors.
“do you always call people kitty cat?” you eventually ask him, it was something you’d been wondering, truly, especially since you’ve never been called that before.
“to pretty girls with an attitude, yeah,” art says it so casually.
“like your wife?”
“like you.”
art corrected you.
he corrected you, and his correction didn’t annoy you like how they always did, it made your stomach churn in a way you couldn’t decipher, you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. you liked it, maybe, but isn’t that so sickening? art seems to think no big deal of his own words, as he doesn’t even react, so you try to be nonchalant about it as well.
the whole entire test match you play with him, he has a certain glint in his eye, his grunts are louder, his shorts look tighter, he looks like he’s having some sort of reaction to playing tennis, to playing tennis with you. your tongue runs along your lips between breaks, noticing the way his eyes linger on it, the way his pupils widen at the shine of saliva over your lips with each swipe.
at the third break, art was convinced you were doing this on purpose.
“why do you keep doing that?” he asks as he’s walking over to grab his water bottle, right where you’re sitting on the concrete floor. you blink up at him, watching him hover the bottle near his lips and squirt the water into his mouth. did he always look this good when sweaty?
gosh, maybe you’re just tired, maybe your mind is just foggy.
“what?” you frown, confused.
“licking your lips,” he speaks after swallowing the water, towering over you. his muscles were nearly bursting out of his white t-shirt with every movement, especially when he puts his water bottle down and crosses his arm, head cocking to the side. sweat causes some of his hair strands to stick to his forehead, lips puffy from how much he bites them when playing.
“my lips are dry,” you explain, so simple.
“yeah?” again, another smile, he had to be toying with you, “do you need some other help with that?”
“what do you mean?”
art hums, not explaining anything when he opens his mouth and swipes his thumb along his tongue, moving down to rub the saliva from his tongue onto your lips, memorizing the pillowy soft touch. your eyes widen, slightly, “art, this is—“
“not helping?” art tuts in faux disappointment, mumbling a small, ‘why don’t i..’ before he leans down further, licking his own lips and getting closer and closer until his lips are brushing against yours.
“wrong,” you mumble out, but you sound unsure, like you don’t really believe what you just said, you don’t think this is wrong, you’ve always thought art was attractive, it was his wife that kept your crush on him at bay. you mumble against his lips, “you have a wife, art..”
“do i?” he smirks against your lips, a near chuckle slipping out, “i must’ve forgotten.”
“art,” it sounds like a warning, but again, you wanted nothing less than for his lips to fall against yours right now.
“make it up to me, yeah? remember that?” his hand moves to hold your cheek, tipping your head up at him, eyes meeting yours in such close proximity, “i’ve got some marriage problems right now, so why don’t you play wife for me, hm?”
you nod at him, ever so slightly, he clocks it immediately, and that’s his que. his eyes flutter shut, and he’s leaning in only a mere centimeter before his lips fall against yours. the kiss is soft at first, sweet, new, but then art starts taking the lead, and it quickly becomes something on the faint lines of cannibalism, he kissed you like he wanted to eat you, like he loved you.
when he said he wanted you to play wife, he wasn’t lying.
he pries your lips open with his own before his tongue makes it’s way inside your mouth, tasting the peppermint of your gum on your own tongue, memorizing the noisy breaths that leave your mouth and move into his. your nails are quick to run along his arms, making him pull back to speak, “hold on, kitty cat.”
“you call your wife kitty cat?” you watch him peel off his sweaty shirt from his skin.
he tosses the shirt to the side, exhaling a breath that showed he hated the feeling of the wet fabric on his skin, “mm, i call you kitty cat, ‘nd you’re playing my wife, so.”
“right,” you agree, letting his cold hands brush against your skin when he takes your clothes off of you, of course looking at you for approval beforehand, which you nod to.
“did you start wearing shorter skirts on purpose?” art questions when his fingers reach the waistband of your skirt, ever so slowly dipping underneath.
“no, ‘course not,” you speak breathlessly, feeling his fingers move under your underwear as well until his fingertips meet your clit. you swallow thick, lashes fluttering as he starts moving his fingers in an almost cruel slowness.
“look at me,” he whispers a simple command, free hand holding your chin and forcing you to look at him. his fingers move further down, immediately feeling how wet you are, he chuckles in surprise, “god, you’re this wet for a married man, huh?”
“for my husband,” you mumble out, playing the part.
“that’s right,” his middle finger circles your entrance for a second before ever so slowly dipping it inside. he watches your lips fall apart, the way your eyes get glossed over, the way your hips push up against his finger. “needy.”
he doesn’t take long to push another finger in, letting go of your chin so he could guide your hand to his clothed cock, hard and pushing against his flimsy shorts. as soon as you start rubbing his dick through the fabric, his breath shudders slightly, as if he’s been waiting too long for like, as if he hasn’t had sexual pleasure in weeks.
soon enough, only a mere minute or two in of foreplay, art gets antsy and he has to have his dick inside of you, he pries his fingers from your cunt and takes your skirt off next. “lay down for me, yeah?” he smiles at the fact that you do it immediately, even spreading your legs for him.
he hisses at the feeling when his bare knees meet the concrete floor below, harsh on his skin, he tugs his shorts and boxers down ever so slightly until his cock is finally freed. you inhale sharply upon seeing it, he had a big dick. he spits in his hand, coating his dick with a grunt before he finally lines himself up with your entrance.
“ready?” he hushes out.
“yeah, yeah,” you’re barely able to finish the last yeah before his dick is moving into you, his nose scrunching from the tightness of your walls around him, it’s like you were purposefully squeezing his cock with an attempt to milk him dry already.
“fuck,” he grunts out, pulling back, then moving back in, earning a pathetic moan from your lips. it sounds like music to his ears, so he keeps going, his thrusting was slow at first, gentle, kind— but just like the test matches, or the kiss, he gets hungry, and he wants more.
his thrusts turn relentless almost immediately, maybe even like he was taking out some sorts of sexual frustrations out on your poor cunt. whimpers, whines, moans, all of those leave your lips, matching up with the grunts and the occasional whimper from his own mouth as well.
sex was intoxicating for art, and there was something so dangerous, so forbidden about this, you weren’t really his wife, he was married to another woman, he was solely your coach. some sick part of art loves that, maybe that’s why he leans down and starts nipping at your neck, sucking at the delicate skin until maroon and blackberry starts blooming on the blank canvas.
“art, oh my god,” you moan out, hands moving to scratch at his bare back, and maybe art should be smart enough to tell you not to leave marks, but he lets your nails dig in as his thrusts get harsher, surely drawing blood, or at least noticeable scratches.
in fact, the feeling of you tearing into his skin only makes his orgasm come on faster, soon enough wracking his body and making his hips stutter. he keeps going though, despite the overstimulation that makes him pathetically whine softly, just until you’ve reached your own orgasm.
he pulls out, panting, smirking down at you, “thanks, kitty cat.”
#୨୧ (jules yapping) .ᐟ#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#mike faist#mike faist x reader#mike faist x you#art donaldson smut#art donaldson challengers#challengers#challengers smut#mike faist smut#mike faist challengers
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i think he knows | theodore nott x reader
song; i think he knows [taylor swift]
pairing; theodore nott x ravenclaw!fem!reader
genre; not actually unrequited love, s2l, fluff
word count; 3,1k
timeline; half-blood prince
warnings; swearing, theo's lack of communication
summary; you had fancied the mysteriously quiet slytherin boy for as long as you could remember (since first year), and, quite frankly, your best friend was sick of you going on about it without ever making a move
masterlist
"wanna see what's under that attitude."
—————————————
Truth was, you knew you weren't special for having your attention caught by Theodore Nott. Despite his almost entirely anti-social personality and apparent grumpiness, many girls longed after him. You completely understood, of course; there was something enticing about a potentially misunderstood quiet boy, and the idea of becoming the one person they show affection to was self-indulging.
The fact of the matter, as your best friend, Cho, frequently pointed out, was that you had never even so much as spoken to him. You hoped he at least knew you existed, from the times you had been praised in class for your assignments, but you had no proof that he even recognised your face.
"Babe, it's sixth year now- that's over five years of you fancying Nott," Cho said as she caught your gaze lingering over to the Slytherin table again. It was your second day back after summer, so you had a lot of long-distance admiring to catch up on.
"Okay, so?" you replied, not even bothering to move your eyes away from the object of your desires.
"So, it's time that you do something about it," she continued, shovelling scrambled eggs on to both her plate and yours, "Do you really want to leave Hogwarts without any dating experience?"
You finally prized your eyes away from Nott, opting instead to meet your concerned best friend's gaze, "I don't think it's the sort of time to be thinking about dating."
"It's especially the time to think about it," she said, "Our lives may be shorter than we think they are - don't die with regrets."
You sighed, unable to argue.
"Plus, it really wouldn't hurt to have some positivity around here. You can feel how much heavier the air is than before."
That, you had to agree with. People were still laughing in their friend groups throughout the hall, sure, but there was a lingering sense of dread that had stuck with everyone since the Triwizard Tournament and reign of Umbridge, and it was only getting worse.
"Maybe," you finally concluded, picking up your fork to dig into your breakfast.
"You have nothing to lose," she added, "Your social circles are completely separate, and, you're pretty as fuck."
You couldn't help but smile at her compliment, "Even if that's true, I'm completely inexperienced."
"It's not that hard."
"Yeah, says the girl who had both Hogwarts champions drooling over her. No offence, babe, but you're biased."
"That could just have easily been you if you'd ever spoken to either of them."
"Whatever you say."
Cho sighed, deciding to not argue any further with you on the matter - for now.
***
It was amazing how potions went from your least favourite subject to your favourite after Slughorn took over from Snape. The lessons were no longer a fear-inducing chore, but instead a time of laughter and enjoyable learning: the way it should be.
Harry Potter especially seemed to be flourishing in the subject, much to the dismay of Hermione Granger, who usually took the spot at the top of the class. You were glad to not be a part of their constantly hectic lifestyles, although you had almost been when Cho had a thing with Harry the year prior.
Regardless, your main focus during potions was the gorgeous Slytherin boy who sat across the classroom from you - another of the best students in the class. Your seat was stationed at the perfect angle to sneak glances at him without raising too much suspicion: you definitely hadn't ensured that a few weeks ago during the first lesson or anything.
"Shit, I forgot the anjelica," you muttered to yourself, gazing at the list of ingredients in front of you as you had been wondering why your potion was a navy blue when it was meant to be a royal blue.
You left your station to head over to the ingredients cupboard, where you gazed at the arrangement before you. It was organised alphabetically, so your eyes shifted to the top left hand corner where you spotted the jar that you were after.
You stood on your tiptoes in attempt to reach it, but after failing, you huffed, going to pull out your wand instead. That was when a hard chest pressed against your back and a large pale hand grasped the very jar that you were in dire need of. You turned around quickly only to spot the guy you had fancied for an unhealthy amount of time - and his face was shockingly close to yours. His scent swarmed your nostrils, making your knees weak.
He raised an eyebrow at you.
Coming to your senses, you cleared your throat, "Uh, I need some of that anjelica- please."
His eyes shifted down to the jar in his hand as he stepped back slightly. The added distance meant that you could finally breathe.
Nott presented the jar to you, and you gratefully took it, thanking him in the process. As you went to open it and take what you needed, he left the cupboard and went back to his station, which was in view of where you were. You remained shocked for a few moments: did he not need some of the herb? His eyes locked on to yours from where he now was, making you panic and quickly depart the cupboard with the jar still in your hand.
Rowena, how did Cho expect you to ask him out when you couldn't even make eye contact with him?
***
The following morning, you were sat at breakfast with Cho and your other fellow Ravenclaws, busy discussing the latest ancient runes essay that you had to complete. Just as you began to discuss the difficulties you had with writing the conclusion, you were interrupted by the sound of owls from above. The morning post had arrived.
Typically, you didn't get anything. Maybe the occasional letter from your mother, but that was about it. So, you were mildly surprised to see an envelope drop in front of you.
It was a very small envelope: that was the most confusing part. You couldn't think as to why your mother wouldn't send a normal-sized letter, but you opened it nonetheless. Only, the contents of the envelope made your stomach drop as dread filled your bones and veins.
A tiny note was enclosed, that wasn't addressed or signed, and it simply read "I see you staring at me". Instinctively, your eyes looked up and over to the Slytherin table, where Theodore Nott sat, evidently having been watching you this entire time. His face was completely blank, until he arched an eyebrow at you - clearly a favoured expression of his - which made you begin panicking.
"Oh, fuck," you mumbled, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Only Cho, who was sat next to you, heard your profanities, and turned to you with confusion adorning her face. "What is it?"
You passed the note over to her, still gazing at Nott who now had the slightest of amused smirks tugging on his lips.
"Oh, fuck," Cho mimicked you, finally making you prize your eyes away from the boy, "Yeah, I see why you're panicking."
"This is going to socially ruin me," you sighed, "He'll probably tell the other Slytherins and then they'll bully me until the end of my school career."
"Okay, catastrophising much?" she said, gently slapping you, "Nott like never talks, I highly doubt he divulges his friends with personal information."
"Yeah, his personal information!" you whisper-yelled.
"I mean, maybe he likes you back."
"What?"
"He doesn't indicate at all in that note that he's mad at you for staring at him."
"Yeah, but, don't you think he'd go about it in a different way if he returned the feelings?"
Cho paused to think for a moment, "No, actually. Maybe he was pretty sure that you were staring at him, but needed to confirm it. So, he wrote that note to you, intentionally not signing it, to see if you would immediately look to him after reading it."
Your eyes widened with realisation, "Wait, are you saying I could have still saved myself, but instead instantly looked in his direction like a fucking idiot?"
"Y/N," she hit your arm, "I think this is a good thing. Try and be more optimistic."
"Easy for you to say."
***
You felt sick to your stomach as you arrived at your potions lesson that day, keeping your head down as you took your usual seat. Normally, this would be when you'd steal your first glance at Theodore Nott, but the thought of seeing his face again paralysed you with fear.
"Y/N, relax," Cho whispered to you, but her words were futile. Relaxation seemed impossible in times like this.
"Today, class, I want you to pair up with someone you don't usually work with," Professor Slughorn announced, "By that I mean, someone who isn't from your house and doesn't sit on your table."
You mumbled a curse under your breath as people began to move around, looking up to try and locate the nice Hufflepuff girl you sat next to in history of magic. Only, Cho had already disappeared to her side, and they were chatting happily with each other. Rowena, this was bad. You didn't have the biggest social circle.
"Excellent, everyone seems to be in pairs," Slughorn spoke, making you furrow your eyebrows.
Looking to your side, you were shocked to see that Nott had silently sat next you, and was gazing at you intently.
"Hi," you squeaked, flashbacks of breakfast flooding back to you.
He gave you a curt nod, and turned back to face the front.
You didn't listen to a single instruction that Slughorn gave after that, as your brain was much too pre-occupied with concepts of social suicide and humiliation. Was Nott just trying to torture you?
"L/N," a deep voice snapped you out of your thoughts. That was it. The first time you had ever heard Theodore Nott speak.
You turned to him, only to realise that everyone was standing up and getting ingredients - had you really been that spaced out?
It must have been evident in your facial expression that you had no idea what was going on, because Nott opened his potions book and pointed at the potion that you were making. You looked at the ingredient list, but you couldn't say that you were actually taking any of it in.
Clearly, Nott was aware of this fact, and let out a small sigh that made you feel exceptionally guilty. Regardless, he walked over to the ingredients cupboard himself without another word and soon returned with everything you needed. In the meantime, you had snapped out of your stupor and set up the cauldron and cutting board. You didn't want him to completely regret pairing up with you.
What potion were you even making? You finally processed the words on the page: amortentia. Your eyes widened.
This might not end well.
***
You had never thought being a remarkable potion maker - who was collaborating with a fellow remarkable potion maker - would be a bad thing. It turned out that it very much could be when the steam from your concoction wafted up your nose, overwhelming your senses with the smell of intertwined chestnut and paper money. As if the faint scent of Nott that you picked up on whenever he walked past didn't make you nervous enough, now it filled the entire room, since you certainly weren't the only capable potion makers in the class.
"Alright, class, it seems that we have all about finished," Slughorn clapped his hands together, "And, now, for my favourite part."
You had a feeling you knew what was coming.
"Miss Parkinson, what does the potion smell like to you?"
"Uh," the girl flushed a bit, her eyes flicking towards Draco Malfoy, "I don't know how to describe it - clean, expensive. Like a really fancy fragrance."
"Fascinating, most fascinating," Slughorn replied, his eyes gleaming, "Mr Nott, what about you?"
Were you already about to hear him speak for the second time? He hadn't spoke throughout the entire potion making process, which, to be honest, you were kind of glad for.
"Coconut," he said simply, "And vanilla."
Your breath hitched.
You used coconut shampoo.
Your favourite perfume was a vanilla scent.
"That is most interesting!" Slughorn grinned, "It is fascinating to hear what enraptures you all the most!"
You didn't realise that your eyes had glued on to Nott as Slughorn proceeded to ask other students what amortentia smelled of to them until the Slytherin boy turned to face you and raised a singular eyebrow.
You felt warm underneath his gaze.
He smirked.
***
You packed up at the end of the lesson, preparing to return to the Ravenclaw tower until dinner time along with Cho who was still across the room. Just as you were about to walk over to her, Nott grabbed your arm and jerked his head in the direction of the door. It was a silent invitation to walk with him somewhere, from what you could gather. You turned around to tell Cho where you were going, but she had already disappeared, much to your confusion.
The first few minutes of the walk were in silence, and the awkwardness was killing you. It was only once you had emerged from the dungeons that Nott finally said something.
"You aren't subtle."
A lightning bolt of shock and nerves shot up your spine and made you stiffen up as you walked. You managed to force out a mumble of, "I know."
He shrugged, "It's cute."
Had you heard him right? No, you couldn't have. You just weren't used to hearing his voice.
"I thought you were shy," you muttered, but he heard and chuckled a bit.
"No. Just quiet."
You clutched your books close to your chest.
"You're shy," he added.
You nodded.
He chuckled again, and silence ensued for another couple minutes.
"Hogsmeade," he said.
You hummed in surprise.
"This weekend. Me, you."
Your jaw dropped - did he mean a date? A Hogsmeade invitation had certain implications among Hogwarts students.
But he didn't clarify, not once on the way to the Ravenclaw tower.
***
"Relax, Y/N, you'll be great," Cho assured you, wrapping your scarf around your neck since the autumn breeze was nippy in Scotland.
"I don't even know if it's a date."
"Of course it's a date," she shook her head, "Everyone knows what inviting someone to Hogsmeade means."
You grimaced, "I don't know if Nott is the most up to date with social norms."
"Regardless, he's not a fucking idiot."
You gave your best friend a small smile.
"Now, he'll be waiting for you in the courtyard, so hurry!"
***
You had only ever seen Theodore Nott in casual clothing from afar before, catching a glimpse of him before he disappeared amongst the other Slytherins. But, Rowena, you had been missing out on quite an indulgent sight.
How could a man make such a simple outfit of a knitted jumper and baggy jeans look so good? You didn't understand it, unable to feel anything but self-conscious in your own ensemble.
He didn't smile at you as you approached, but instead gave you a curt nod. And, as you both began walking towards the carriage, the silence was truly beginning to suffocate you. So, you reached inside the crevices of your brain to talk about something - anything - and finally landed on informing him of every little thing that had happened to you that week. It wasn't particularly interesting, mainly because you were omitting the details about him, but it meant that the quietness was filled with your babbling.
Which was how it went the entire journey to Hogsmeade.
At first you weren't sure he was listening, but when you paused mid sentence for a moment, he raised his eyebrow at you and gestured for you to go on. So you did.
"...and honestly, I don't know why Cho thought that was a good idea," you sighed as you both stepped out of the carriage, "She nearly set her hair on fire!"
You heard a small chuckle erupt from the boy next to you, making you look over to him in surprise.
"What about you? How's your week been?" you asked cautiously, nervous to see his reaction to a question that required a wordy response.
He shrugged.
It was frustrating.
You chewed your lip for a few seconds, "Look- I get you find communication difficult. But, please, I need more to work with here."
He gave you a surprised expression, and stopped walking, making you halt too. Nott looked around pensively, completely unreadable.
"Nott?"
He looked at you and scowled, "Theo," he corrected.
"Theo- what are you doing?"
Letting out a loud exhale, he grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the main street of Hogsmeade and to a more hidden area behind some of the houses. When you turned around, you realised that he was right in front of you - to the point that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face.
"I'm not good with words," he mumbled.
You hummed in agreement.
"I don't like talking to people," he continued, "But I want to talk to you."
Your breath hitched, "Really?"
"I'm not an idiot- I've known that you've fancied me for years."
You felt your ears heat up.
"But this year, when we started back, I-" he paused, trying to piece together the words in his mind, "I saw you, and it was different than before. I wanted your attention."
A smile crept on to your face as you gazed up at him.
"So, I know I need to work on being open - but I want to try. For you."
You don't know where the wave of confidence came from, but you found yourself pressing your lips against his and combing your fingers through his hair. He gasped at the sudden contact, but quickly reciprocated the affection until you pulled apart.
"Rowena... I always thought you knew. I can't believe I was right."
"Horrifying?"
"A little," you nodded, "But it's obviously worked out."
————————————————
masterlist
written; 03/06/2023 —> 15/08/2023
published;17/08/2023
edited; —/—/——
#harry potter#hp oneshot#hp#hp fanfic#harry potter oneshot#harry potter fanfic#fluff#theodore nott#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott x you#theo nott#theo nott x reader#theo nott x y/n#theo nott x you#reader insert#not so unrequited love#strangers to lovers#classmates to lovers#ravenclaw reader#theodore nott oneshot
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The Darkness really is the best song in the show.
#not musically. like as far as sheer Song goes it’s probably It Was A Shit Show or something but for like. emotion and rarity? I’ve never#ever seen someone confront that really ugly side to mental illness and it’s done so well. like yeah. it can become your identity to be ill#and you can fear losing it and it becomes a parasitic relationship that’s killing you and that’s not good and it’s hard to talk about —#almost impossible. because like. you /know/ how bad ‘what if without this I’m not interesting anymore and people have no reason to worry so#they have no reason to care about me’ is as a statement like that’s fucked up to think and feel. but it’s also not malicious or really you#it’s a part of being sick and people who haven’t been don’t understand it which makes it scary to try to confront and best because it makes#you sound so horrible—it makes you sound horrible to /yourself/ and that makes it hard even for you to confront it alone because you have to#admit it to kill it. I got so sick when I was dying of an ED and my brain got so fucked I began to believe with intense primal terror that#it had become so much of my identity nobody would care about me without it. which makes no sense but to a dying addicted head it did. and#I’ve never seen someone confront and discuss that ugliness so openly or so sympathetically at the same time. the line ‘for so many years ive#used the Darkness to feel. But now there are things in my life that are actually real. I’ve got to make a choice darling don’t ask me why.#But will I have the strength? to tell the darkness…goodbye…’ I cry.#it applies to a lot under that. to trauma associated with social neurodivergence where you learn to fear feeling happy as a kid because you#get loud or too much or things you don’t understand enough to not do them so the only way to be safe from repercussions is to not /be/ happy#in the first place. it applies to having clinical depression you’ve survived alone since childhood and your way of making it through life is#so intrinsically tied to coping with depression you have no idea what you’d be without it. it’s learned self-hatred of a cluster B needing#to hate themself to keep back the world flooding them when they feel at risk by doing it first#and it’s not pretty and it’s not easy but it is so fucking important people admit this is such a fucking common thing with serious mental#illness. how are we to get through self hatred and hopelessness and despair if we can’t even see the things we think are too bad to face are#as common a symptom as cutting? and just as curable and forgivable and not representative of who we are#god I love that song#crazy ex-girlfriend
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Hello (◍•ᴗ•◍)
I really like your work it's so good!! And i saw your request is open soooo
Can i request delinquent/bad boy sukuna x student council president reader? Like they hate each other bc reader is very strict with the rule while sukuna just break it anyway. One day, sukuna saw the reader in a party which make him confused bc reader is not the type to do fun stuff. And moments later they fuck
Sorry if this is a very detailed request. Feel free to ignore it or change it :3
𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oh my, another sukuna req! things bout to get hot, hehe~
⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; Sukuna and you are college seniors - blackmail - fingering (f! receiving) - anal fingering (f! receiving) - oral (m! receiving) - facials - use of a phone; sexual photography - impact play (spanking) - full nelson position - degradation (cumslut, pig, slut, whore) - humiliation - overstimulation - pet names (brat, princess, woman) - dick piercing (frenulum) - usage of drugs & alcohol - mention of drool/spit and tears.
⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k
Sukuna was grinning ear to ear as he marched his way toward you. “Y/n.”
You perked at your name, and your face contoured to brief shock before shifting to mild annoyance. “Sukuna.”
Running into you at a huge party was the last thing Sukuna expected to see. But it’s a situation he will take advantage of expeditiously.
College is hard enough being the top dog of the student government association and trying to juggle senior classes. It is your job to keep the school and its students in order, maintaining a pretty face as it’s been doing decently for the several years before you. The entire student body knows you take your job seriously, earning the respect they give you with every step you take and being praised by professors and faculty alike — even being invited to have dinner with the university president along your association!
But of course, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows because there are always downsides to the good — one of them being a ginormous thorn to your being.
Ryōmen Sukuna is a man you’ve been dealing with for almost four years. Known for his intimidating cadence whenever he walks the halls, the brutality of his moves as he’s the famous trump card of the school’s jiu-jitsu club, and his cold and demeaning manner of speech when talking down to others he deems beneath him, he is regarded at the campus’ “demon dog.” Someone that many can never believe is the older brother of the freshman track star sweetheart, Yuuji Itadori.
He is a person that many say is the complete opposite face when compared to you, a fact you have no choice but to agree with a twitching brow. Looking through all the disruptive students you’ve dealt with, Sukuna would be crowned King for being the most colossal nuisance of your life. Whether it be reporting him to the campus police for picking fistfights with the juniors, smoking in smoke-free zones, adding more tattoos to his face and arms, or willingly trashing places because he thinks he can, no one has been more subject to give you more grey hairs. He just doesn’t listen — he won’t listen!
And the worst part is that he enjoyed making your life a living hell. God, he’s such a fucking bastard, not wanting to deal with outside of your academic life.
…Until you two see each other from across the living room where a huge party is held in one of the off-campus apartments, perplexed crimson eyes locked on with widened ones, too shocked to take a sip of your drink from your red solo cup. You immediately turned to the group before you, hoping the sea of kids and the bouncing bass could distort your image from his vision.
Too late; the salmon-haired senior couldn’t hide the grin on his face as he slithers past people to get to where you are. Students move out of the way for him to move, the group you were hanging with gasps with wary stares, and Sukuna taps your bare shoulder.
“Never figured the student government president would be here,” his voice was chilling as always. Yet you remain a neutral face when facing him. “Something tells me there isn’t apple juice in that solo cup.”
The group you were hanging out with instantly excused themselves to somewhere else in the apartment, leaving you alone with Sukuna. You rolled your eyes, “What is it, Ryōmen?” You feel disgusted as his red eyes scan your figure, taking in the off-shoulder, long-sleeved bodycon dress you were wearing. True, you don’t wear stuff like this all the time, but you can’t expect this bastard to have any amount of decency or subtlety.
“Whatcha doin’ here, prez?” God, you hated him calling you that, knowing good and damn well what your name was — but, again, why would he bother; not respecting you enough to do something simple as that. “Isn’t this kind of thing what you’re against for and all?”
“Hmph, am I not allowed to have some fun at a party I was invited to?” You furrowed your brows and took an aggressive sip. “Besides, this is off-campus housing; the property owners are the ones who’ll have anyone’s asses if stuff breaks or cause disruption against the codes.”
“Oh, so the uptight President is off duty this time? Hmm, ain’t that something,” he leans against the wall beside you with crossed arms. Your gaze was averted to the crowd bumping and grinding rather than acknowledging the delinquent examining you. “I figured you’d be somewhere pulling your panties to some poor bastard.”
“Watch your tone when talking to me, Ryōmen,” you finally send him a glare through your peripherals. It humored him, a devilish chortle you could hear even through the loud bass. “Lucky for you, I’m only here to have a good time with some friends before heading home to assignments. So, do me a favor and don’t start shit for me to take home and stress over.”
He lifts a brow, “Is that so? Miss Prez came to let loose, huh.” You didn’t like how he said that — nor how he moved to lean closer to you. His cologne disrupts your nostrils. “Never thought you had that side of you.”
“There are many things you don’t know about me, Ryōmen,” you swing your cup around with a scoff. “And I’d prefer to keep it that way.”
And you thought you’d win this round as Sukuna doesn’t say anything to you for a few seconds. However, the man goes through his pocket to pull out his phone to pull up something. And when he finds it, he flashes the screen to your direction. “You mean things like these?” You turn to look at the device, and your eyes go wide with an agape mouth. What he was showing were photos — a whole lot — of you.
“You know, I’m sure it must be hard being president of the student body; that’s why I don’t envy you,” one photo shown is of you smoking in the Honors Lounge with a few of your student government associates, an action undoubtedly prohibited within the facilities. “So, I can’t blame you when you decide to settle down and let yourself go for a minute,” he swipes his finger to pictures of you drinking liquor with some other students who smoke blunts and have weed plastered on the coffee table. “However, you really outta be careful with what you’re doing, Y/n; you got people who look up to you and expect so much from you.” Another picture shows you at some dark nightclub with a guy friend, shoving middle fingers and sticking tongues out at the camera.
Your lips quiver with every swipe, and lips quiver, “Wh…Where did you get those…”
“Hmm? I can’t share that information. Heh, plus, I like to keep tabs on those who can get on my nerves,” he stuffs the phones back into his dark jean pocket. “But I can’t lie; the more I look at those pictures and compare them to the little president that nags too damn much, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if someone were to leak these out for the whole school to see. Which would drop quicker: your presidential scholarship and accolades or your reputation?”
“You fucking asshole…!”
You swiftly throw your cup at Sukuna, but the pink-haired man dodges easily and grabs your wrist — the poor guy behind him gets drenched with your drink. “Hey!” The guy grabs Sukuna’s shoulder and is immediately met with the infamous death glare. “…My fault, bro, don’t worry about it. I’ll go dry off,” the student says while backtracking away from those fearsome eyes.
You’re trembling with vexed shakes; the hand on your wrist holds you tight with no sign to let go unless necessary. Otherwise, you know he’ll break it if you make one wrong move. “…What the hell do you want from me?“
Now Sukuna has you in the palm of his hand — his sinister grin growing as he leans closer to be inches away from your face. “My apartment is on the top floor; you have ten minutes to get your ass up there,” you don’t move a centimeter when he draws near your ear to whisper. “I’ll show you how to really get loose, Miss President.”
The words felt like sharp daggers to your throat, “You…devil.”
He snickers into your ear, “Pick your poison, and you’ll see just how much of a devil I can be.”
And with that, Sukuna straightens himself up and heads out, his frame disappearing deep into the crowd till you can’t see him anymore. Your heartbeat goes at a pace way too irregular to call ordinary, and your blood too cold as it has your skin suffer in shivers.
This was a nightmare — an absolute, horrifying nightmare. There’s no way the guy that you hate with your very guts just blackmailed you! This was not how this night was supposed to go; now your whole reputation — what you’ve built with your own two hands — is being held in front of you and is dependent on going to this asshole’s apartment. Who the hell does he think he is!?
You didn’t want to go. You wouldn’t go! Especially under the premise of that fucker, playing with your life like some toy. Your thoughts were inner turmoil, challenging your morals and conscience on what to do. Your pride was trying to pull up a good fight, holding onto whatever dignity you have to validate not going up on the elevator and seeing Sukuna for what he’s about to do to you. They’re just pictures; people will think they’re edited or question if they’re valid!
However, the fact that you spent five minutes going back and forth with this suggests those were anything but pictures. He had ammunition to bring you down — to humble and look down on you — and have everyone do the same, no matter what you could say to justify yourself. So, swallowing your ego, you exit the party and walk the hallway down to the elevator. Every floor you ascended made you feel small, and when the doors opened for you to step out and you saw him leaning on his door waiting for you, your fate had been sealed.
The same smirk he had at the party was plastered on his face. You were no longer in control of the situation; you are now in his domain — and you should follow his commands to keep up.
“Gahhh! Mmmph, Ryooo, stop—Eeek! Y’re hitting so ha—Ahhh!”
“What? You thought I was going to be easy with you? After all those times you’ve pestered me to no end? Hah, think again, prez.”
Being in the same space with Sukuna is something you never comprehended happening civilly in all your years of knowing him. Now, being laid on top of his knees as he sits on the edge of the bed is jarring in its own sentence. The skirt of your dress was pulled up, your ass and panties out for the cool air to caress. Not until Sukuna rips you off your underwear and starts giving your bare butt unforeseen strikes. The impact of his hand was so harsh that you gripped his jean-clad leg with a scream.
He goes about this for a solid five minutes, giving your asscheeks slaps – and your cries have him chuckle and do some more. And you can’t squirm out of his hold, or else he’ll dent the skin of your butt with his fingertips, piercing into the tense muscle to inflict pain like no other. God, it hurt so bad, every smack taking your breath away.
“Look at you,” he coos, rubbing his hand on the hot skin. The pain was so bad to the point of your eyes watering; simply hovering his Hand over you was enough to have you in shudders. “Whatever happened to the poised and resilient Y/n who’d always dare threaten me for my behavior? This person on me, screaming like a whore, can’t be the same Y/n.”
You grit your teeth, turning over your shoulder to express your seething glare. “Who are you calling a whore, you fucking—Deeeii! Ohhh!” Sukuna sneaks a forefinger inside your wet cunt, not bothering to warn you. “Wai—Tahhh! Take it out, take it out right—Noooh!!”
“Oh, don’t even think you’re in any position to tell me what to do, slut,” you bite your lip as he moves his finger into your vagina with such merciless vigor. “And with how you’re crying like a bitch, you sound pretty whore-ish to me.”
Oh, go fuck yourself! You could have told him that — but you didn’t because he squeezes in his middle finger to insert inside your tight chasm, both digits now rummaging inside your vaginal walls and scraping them to the point of drooling babbles on your part. You couldn’t think of anything, not when he’s still throwing smacks on your ass with his free hand. You can’t even wipe the spit that comes down your lips because he distracts you with more jabs to your inner walls and pinches to the skin of your butt. Fuck, fuuuck!!
And it gets worse when you feel his thumb dance around your asshole. “N–No, stop it, Sukuna! That’s dirty, don’t—Mmnaahh!!” He slips it inside without care; the pain of his thumb forcing inside your puckered anus almost has you shut down.
“That’s the point, prez,” he bites his lip with a pestilent snicker. “Gonna make you so fucking dirty tonight, wanna ruin that perfect image of yours that you don’t recognize yourself. He scratches your butt, resulting in you clamping onto his digits with a grip that feeds his ego. “Mhmm, just like that, princess.”
How dare he play with your ass like a toy and have the nerve to call you that? Such a sick man; the hate you have for him boils your blood to no end. “Ahhh, stoop, too fast, please, go slo—Mmmph!?”
He shoves two fingers in your mouth to stifle your cries. “That’ll keep you from squealing, fucking pig.” And he continues to toy with your slit and anus, your whimpers muffled by his thick fingers.
“Take it all in, Y/n, every single fucking inch, ya hear?…Mmmm, yeah, deep in your throat like that.”
This. Is. The. Worst! There’s absolutely no way you’re sucking Sukuna’s cock right now; this is the very last thing you’d want to be doing! He’s standing with his dark jeans and briefs on his thighs, his hand on the back of your head to make sure your mouth remains on his dick at all times. If you could, you would’ve chewed the damn thing off and made a run for it.
But you came here for a reason, so you keep your disdain at bay and begrudgingly suck on Sukuna’s glans, having the salmon-haired man purr from above you. And it doesn’t help that he holds his phone to take pictures of you and said add more to his collection. God, he’s so disgusting…
“Fhhh, fuck, that feels good,” he groans at you taking his girth. Your lips down to the hilt, burrowing his length deep into the warm, tight tunnel of your throat. “Who woulda thought the strict, by-the-book Y/n would take in dick so well?” You narrow your eyes at him as you bob your face up and down, earning a hearty chuckle from the pleased man. “That face of yours, baby, so furious with me, huh.”
You try to pay him no mind, distracting yourself with the task at hand by licking one of his balls before sucking them. Your hands increase in speed when stroking him, having the man above unable to stop bucking his hips to your fist for more enviable friction.
“Shit, yeah, yes,” he throws his head back in bliss, and you can tell he’s about finished while feeling his cock pulsate under your touch. “Bring your face here.”
He does it for you – his hand on your head for a reason – and forces you close to his cock before he jerks himself for release. And his come exudes with a force, landing right on your face. You fight every fiber of your being to move away, accepting his essence to paint your cheeks, nose, and lips. It was unbelievable how disgracious he was, just plain selfish and unapologetically nasty.
You hear the phone snap, throwing another scowl at the pink-haired responsible. “Lookin’ like a real cumslut for me, prez.”
And the worst part of all finally comes around — the thing you dreaded once you stepped out of that party and into that elevator.
“—Fffaaahh! Hooohshiiit! This is crazy—Eeeee!”
“Fuckin’ shit, you’re tight as hell, woman…Khhh…! Tryin’ to milk me dry, huh, Y/n…”
Sukuna lies beneath you with his legs bent away, his arms wrapped underneath your legs, and pushing them to your chest from behind. His cock is entombed inside your leaking slit as he thrusts up to you with every second, and the sound of your ass smacking onto his thighs fills the space.
He has his hands behind your neck, demanding you to look at the union of your sexes, and your face couldn’t get any hotter than watching the obscenity. He’s been fucking you for more than ten minutes now, his cum inside you from the last round stains a white ‘o’ around the base of him, and the sticky substance so vulgar to look at it stretching with his push and pull motions. And the squelching – the goddamn squelching! – it only furthered the fog clouding your mind.
There was no point concealing your wails; your lips were forced open with every jab from Sukuna. Jesus, he was so fucking big — your poor cunt stretched to accommodate his intrusion. You clamp onto him more when he pulls, the barbell piercing his frenulum and scraping your walls from the descent and grazing your G-spot.
“Fuck, fuuuck, hsssh…!” It was hard to concentrate on anything outside of this, and you couldn’t tell if you were speaking adequately or prattling like some sex-crazed fool. You sigh with rolled eyes when he sends sporadic ruts out of nowhere, clenching onto his shaft with a tug.
It has Sukuna groan hotly, his breath steaming your skin. “Holy fuck, you really love gripping my cock, don’t you, princess?”
“I–I can’t help it! You keep ’n hit—Haishhh!” Your eyes meet the ceiling at the jab of your A-spot, the pressure making you feel full. “You—hic—…Yo’re the one m’king me like thisss…”
“Is that right?” He takes slow thrusts to draw out your pleasure; your broken howls were music to his ears. “Sounds like the to be enjoying yourself.” You hurriedly shake your head no, and he throws a bitter pound to your hypersensitive chasm. “Brat, why the hell else are you milking me like this for, then?”
“Becauseee, it feels….Mmmm,” No, you can’t say that. Don’t tell him what he wants to hear.
“Hmm? Feels what?” You can hear the smirk on his lips. You don’t say anything except muffled hums, so he probes you, “You want me to send out those pictures, huh? Show just how much of a terrible president you are, how you love to go dumb on my dick?”
Of course not! “Do—Don’t you dare…!”
“Then answer the question: how does it feel, hmm? Tell me, how do you feel being fucked by the guy you hate so much?”
Oh, damn you, Ryōmen Sukuna! It was now you shed a tear, your hands grabbing for his forearms for purchase.
“—Fucking ‘ell, it feels good,” you said it, your last bit of dignity finally thrown for the man to shred apart. “Feels ‘oo good, you make me feel—Geheehh…so damn good…!”
Oh, that was more than enough for him. Sukuna’s sneer becomes broader, and his chuckles are felt from your back. “What a dirty bitch for me, princess…”
His hips go back to an unsteady fashion, propelling his dick to his base, and the brushes of his piercing massage your walls too precisely. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to come crashing down on you with a scream, the walls of your cunt contracting around Sukuna for the third time that night. Your nails dig into his arms, and drool leaves your pretty agape mouth as he allows you to ride out your climax.
Sukuna whistles at the sensation of you fluttering on his girth. “Phew, damn, that was a good fuck. You know how to keep up with me, woman; you’d make a great pet.”
You were sick of him, gulping to wet your dry throat. “Delete…the fucking…pictures.” Your empty threat only has him click his tongue with a scoff.
“Not so fast there, prez; the fun was just getting good.” Your heart sinks to the soles of your feet. “So, be a good brat and know your place is under me tonight.
requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸
© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.
#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen smut#ryomen sukuna smut#sukuna ryomen x you#sukuna ryomen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fic#jjk imagines#anime smut
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Hi, can i request an angst fic? insecure eddie where there is a misunderstanding with soft reader and due to his rejection trauma, he acts douchy as a defense mechanism. Soft reader, not used to get treated harshly, she turns cold. But then when eddie figured out that reader is more important than his ego, he finally trying to resolve his trauma before reconcile back with reader, although took some time and effort. Happy ending!
I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻
Push away
Eddie knew he protected his feelings to an extreme. He hurt people before they could hurt him. He refused to be close to anyone, people always left. He was horrible at relationships. The second he felt the walls caving in, he was out the door.
Not many people had good things to say about him, and he didn't give them opportunities to.
Y/N was a soft and polite girl. She was quiet but spoke passionately. Y/N didn't talk to many people, but no one had anything bad to say about her. Until Eddie Munson proved that theory wrong.
~~~
Y/N couldn't remember when her crush on Eddie surfaced, but he was all she could think about. They had some classes together, and he sat across the room but at her eye level. She could stare and daydream for as long as she wanted.
It took her weeks to get the courage to say something to him, but she was glad she did. Because after that, a friendship began.
She didn't want to scare him off with her feelings, so she settled for just being his friend first. She could get to know him and enjoy being with him without having it mean anything more.
Eddie actually really enjoyed having her around. He wasn't the best at letting anyone in, but something about her felt comforting and warm. His brain was able to shut off around her. Their friendship felt easy to him. He wasn't worried about impressing her or trying to be someone he wasn't. For once, he was able to be just friends with a girl.
They hung out mostly every day. The second school ended, she was in his van and they'd go to his trailer and watch random movies.
The one thing Y/N didn't think through, was how hard it was going to be to act like she wasn't falling for him. They kept everything at a friend level, and she wasn't sure if it was the best idea to push for more. Eddie was a loner, and she should be grateful she made it this far.
But the more they hung out, and the more he wrapped his arm around her shoulder during movies, she couldn't think straight. All she could think about was holding his hand and feeling his lips move against hers.
"What's going on in there?" Eddie's voice caused her to snap into reality. His finger lightly pushed on her forehead.
"Sorry, what?" She blushed, blinking as she moved her eyes away from Eddie's face.
"You were staring and barely moving. You seemed to be in deep thought. Penny for your thoughts?" He reached over and paused the movie. His full attention was on her as she gulped.
She didn't know what to say. There was no way she was going to confess how she felt about him. But maybe she should? He seemed to be more comfortable with her and he constantly was touching her in some type of way.
Oh for fucks sake, go for it
"I have a crush on this guy, and I can't get him out of my head." She whispered, she worried if she said it loud enough it would be more real.
Eddie wasn't sure what he felt, but it wasn't good. He almost felt hurt that she would admit that to his face. But why should he care, it wasn't like they were dating or that he even liked her that way.
"Oh, well. Why don't you ask him out?" Eddie said he tried to sound like he didn't care. He was helping a friend.
"I can't tell if he likes me back. I enjoy having him in my life and I don't want to scare him off."
"Yeah, that's fair. Maybe compliment him, get close, and lean in for a kiss. If he leans in, go for it." Eddie wanted to smack himself. He didn't want her perfect lips to be touching some loser. But again, he was just a friend and he didn't have a say in that.
"Okay, kinda like this?" She whispered, her heart racing out of her chest as she placed her palm on Eddie's thigh. The rough material of his jeans scratched against her skin as she softly moved her hand down to his knee and then back up again.
Eddie felt his breathing stop as she lingered on his thigh. He wanted to look away but her eyes had him in a daze. His stomach flipped and he hated the way he was slightly turned on. He can't be feeling like this, because then he would have to admit he felt something. He searched his brain for an escape, he tried to move his legs but he was paralyzed.
All he could do was watch in horror as she leaned in. Her eyes searched his as she moved closer, her mouth inches away from his.
"Then I'd kiss him, right?" She whispered against his lips, and before he knew it he leaned in.
She felt the weight off of her shoulders as her lips crashed on his. Her eyes closed as she savored the feeling of his soft lips against hers. Her head spun as he gripped her waist and kissed her back. Her thoughts were gone as their kiss deepened. Her hands moved up his thigh, to his chest then around his neck, he pushed her body against his. He swallowed her moans as his tongue licked her bottom lip. She didn't think twice about opening her mouth to allow his tongue to touch hers.
The moment was perfect
The moment was everything she dreamed
It was everything she needed to say the words
She pulled away breathing heavily, and her eyes fluttered open. Eddie slowly blinked, like he wasn't sure where he was as he stared at her.
Then something snapped.
His hands yanked her arms off of him and he flew off the couch. He paced fire into the floor as he walked back and forth.
"What the fuck was that!"
Y/N was taken aback by how angry he sounded. She nervously tried to form an answer.
"I did what you said." Her voice was calm but confused. "I like you, Eddie."
Her words glued his feet to the floor. He was stuck, his feet felt too heavy to pick up as his breathing picked up.
He felt it
He felt the walls caving in. The room got smaller as he struggled to breathe. Her eyes haunted him as she watched. He felt like his body was being crushed between two walls and he couldn't push them apart.
"Well don't," he spat out harshly. She felt her body flinch as his eyes glared down at her. "I mean what is wrong with you? Why did you have to fuck up the friendship we had?"
She really did not understand why he was so angry. Even if he didn't like her, that wouldn't cause him to be so agitated.
"I'm sorry, I thought you wanted me to! You didn't move my hand, and you leaned in. And you kissed me back. I mean you deepened the kiss. I thought that meant you liked me too" She apologized. She worried she might have made him uncomfortable.
"Why would I like you too? What possible idiotic theory are you basing that on?"
She tried not to cry as she stood up. She wasn't sure who the hell was across from her, because it was not the sweet boy she spent her time with.
"Why are you acting like this? I said I was sorry."
"Because I know if I allow myself to have feelings for you, you'll be the one I spend the rest of my life with," Eddie confessed, and that scared him the most.
"Would that be so bad? I know it's scary, but don't you think we should try?" She asked, she slowly moved closer to him. Her hand softly cradled his face.
Her touch turned him into ice. It was all too much and he needed her gone. He needed her out of his mind, his sight, and his life.
"Yes because I'll have to live with the regret of choosing you."
Y/N yanked her hand off of his face like he burned her. She felt like the air was kicked out of her lungs.
"Fuck you," she spat as hot tears rolled down her face. She turned around to grab her jacket off the couch. She didn't bother putting it on, she slammed the door behind her as she left.
The loud bang echoed through the trailer as the walls moved back to their normal distance. Eddie could feel the air returning to his lungs as he dropped to the floor.
He escaped
But he wasn't sure how long the escaping would feel like freedom.
~~~
Eddie figured if she was out of sight, she'd be out of his mind
But he was wrong
She never left his head. Images of her smiling and laughing. But also the image of her crying and leaving. It's been a few days and they haven't talked. He knew they wouldn't, but he didn't think he'd miss her.
He escaped but this time it felt different. It made him feel worse. There wasn't any relief on his shoulders anymore; bricks piled on until it was too heavy to even stand up.
He missed having a friend. He knew he handled the situation horribly, and he wanted to apologize for it.
~~~
Y/N tried to ignore how awful she felt. She was embarrassed and regretted ever telling Eddie she liked him. But at least he showed his true colors and she could begin moving on.
Y/N hadn't seen Eddie since the big blowout, and Monday approached faster than she wanted. She wasn't sure how seeing him would go, but she knew she would ignore him.
~
Eddie had never felt so nervous to pull up to school, a endless pit settled in his stomach as he walked through the parking lot. He kept his eye out for Y/N's car, he wasn't sure if he wanted to find it or not.
Without catching a glimpse of her, Eddie walked into the school. He planned to wait at her locker until she showed up.
~
Y/N rolled her eyes as Eddie stood at her locker.
"Move," She mumbled with a blank stare.
"Can we talk?" Eddie asked, his voice shaky.
"We are already talking more than I wanted, now move and leave me alone." The seriousness in her voice broke Eddie down a bit, but he knew he deserved it.
He nodded and walked off.
But he wasn't going to give up.
~
Y/N sat at their usual table, Eddie wasn't sure if he was welcome to sit or not. He took a deep breath and dropped his tray on the table. She looked up from her lunch and looked right back down.
Eddie coughed and picked at his tray. His eyes kept peeking up to look at her but her head was always down.
"I'm sorry for what I said," Eddie said but she didn't flinch. "It was wrong and you didn't deserve that."
Y/N let out a heavy sigh and stood up.
She looked Eddie straight in the eyes, he took a deep breath as he waited for her to speak.
But she didn't
She gathered her lunch and walked off.
~
Eddie tried to apologize every single day, he switched his words and tried to say what she needed to hear. A week of silence and he couldn't let it go further.
He knew what happened was because of his past trauma and he felt he needed to understand first. Maybe then he could give her an explanation. So, he began therapy.
Within a few appointments, he understood he pushed her away because he was in love with her.
~~~
Y/N finished writing in her journal when she heard a knock at her window. Her curtains were shut, so whoever knocked was a mystery. She slowly stood up and crept towards her window, she was a tad scared but figured a robber wouldn't be asking for entry.
She peeked through the tiny crack of her curtain and saw Eddie's familiar curls. He stood on the small balcony. She sighed and walked back to bed.
Eddie could see her shadow moving and frowned when her lap shut off. Her room was dark and he lost sight of her. But he would stay here all night if he needed to.
He knocked again and called her name, but no response.
Y/N groaned annoyed at the constant knocks, but still remained in bed.
"I'm sorry. I know I fucked up and I might not ever make this up to you. But I figured out why I reacted that way."
His words made Y/N's ears perk, and she sat up in bed.
"I pushed you away because people always left. The people that I cared for, the people I loved. When you kissed me, I loved it. I felt complete like that emptiness those people left was filled by you. So I panicked, I wanted to leave before you left me. Which was wrong. Because I shouldn't have turned on someone that I love."
Y/N gasped as the final words left his lips. She had to pick between her pride and her heart. And she wasn't positive which one led her in the right direction.
"Can I just see you?" his knock was lighter than the rest, and his voice sounded like he was on the cliff of giving up.
She got out of bed and walked to her window. She pulled back the curtain and opened her window. Eddie smiled as he saw her face.
"Hi," he whispered, afraid to speak louder and frighten her.
"Are you saying you are in love with me?"
"I'm trying to, yes. And I don't expect that to fi-"
Eddie was cut off as Y/N captured his lips in a kiss. Eddie didn't hesitate and kissed her back.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he leaned further in the window. Half his body leaned into her room as he chased her lips as she pulled away.
"It doesn't fix everything but I'm ready to forgive you and we'll fix it together." She said against his lips.
"Thank you," he whispered before he connected their lips again.
Tags!
@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson request#eddie munson fluff x reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson angst x reader#eddie munson fluff#ashwhowrites
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Recently Youtube's algorithm really wants me to watch Schindler's List and I never had so the other night I sat down and actually watched it.
Having a lot of thoughts about it but a major one I keep coming back to is how even an immensely and deeply flawed human being can go against "just following orders" and instead put in the work to actually help.
It may never be fully enough. It may never save as many as you'd hoped. But when you have a choice to either follow orders or save your fellow humans in front of you, I hope you choose the latter.
Schindler died in poverty. He was not a renown war hero nor was he at all famous or widely beloved. But he saw that he could help, even in some small way, and so he helped.
He was a Nazi who saw what the Nazis were doing to Jews and said no more. Enough. If I can even spare those under my charge, maybe a few extras, then at least I will have tried to do something about this.
I think a lot of people do not fancy this type of activism. It is messy, dangerous, and often completely thankless. Schindler survived as long as he did after the war due to those he saved helping him with donations. He was not popular in his hometown due to his association with Nazis, he was not popular in Germany, he was not popular in Argentina. His businesses all failed. His wife left him. A movie about his deeds was released several years after his death, where he would receive none of the benefits. He went to prison multiple times for simply refusing to hate Jews.
I think a lot of people like to think they're activists, but are sorely unprepared for doing this type of work, and then in truth become activists in name only. This is hard work. But without him, another thousand or so people would be on that death toll.
He took his position of extreme power- a Nazi owning a factory almost entirely operated by Jews, making oodles of money off that cheap slave labor- and said you know what? No. I'm not doing that. I can't save everyone, but as long as they are within my factory, you will not kill my workers. As long as I'm here you aren't harming one hair on the head of any Jew under my care. You're not sending or keeping them in Auschwitz. You're not randomly executing them for entertainment. They're people. You're not murdering them.
"Just following orders" they say. But they didn't have to. They could have helped. They could have did what he did, look around and say "what the fuck am I doing here", and stop. He did. They could have. They didn't.
#I think it's also intereating that he did not do it out of compassion at first#he did it because it was smart capitalism#jewish labor was super cheap and they were desperate to be considered fit to work because otherwise execution was waiting for them#only after the cleansing of the ghetto did he say whoa okay holy shit yeah no I'm not doing this anymore#that's also true of the real man the movie is about#I also think it's interesting that not everyone he saved thinks he was a good person#but even still despite his flaws they respect and admire what he did for them#his motives were not always pure#but the fact of the matter is that when he saw what was happening he chose to act against it#he did not shrug and saw welp orders are orders#nor did he succumb to hopelessness when it became difficult to keep up what he was doing
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