【 18+ 】 tw ──── perv!sex worker!harua . . innocent!f rea, dead dove do not eat, yandere!harua, slowburn, corruption, non con elements, dubcon, inexperienced!reader, manipulation, possessive!harua, club au, toxic relationship, explicit smut, power imbalance, fingering, oral sex ( m. & f. rec ) , unprotected p in v, creampie, dirty talk, choking, rough sex, hair pulling, degradation, obsession, praise kink, dacryphilia. 10,426 wc | don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr
the bass thumps low and dirty through the club like a heartbeat you can feel between your legs. neon lights smear pink and violet across the haze of smoke and sweat, and you’re perched on a velvet stool at the bar, knees pressed tight together under the hem of your too-short skirt.
first time here. first time anywhere like this. your friends had brought you here with the intention of you getting laid, but around 5 minutes in they had disappeared under the guise of getting laid themselves.
your heart beating rabbit-fast, cheeks already burning because some guy in a suit just tried to buy you a drink and you mumbled “no thank you” like a scared little church girl.
that’s when harua sees you.
he’s leaning against the far wall, black silk shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the sharp cut of his collarbones, small silver chain glinting against his throat. his hair falls into his eyes—messy black with long pieces in the back, under it a pretty silver color that he keeps bleaching—and his mouth is curled in that lazy, knowing smirk he saves for new prey.
he’s been working this club for months now. high-end escort, sex worker, prostitute, pretty boy whore, whatever label pays the rent. he lets rich men and women fuck him for cash, lets them choke him, slap him, call him their dirty little toy. he’s good at it. he likes it, most nights.
but tonight his cock twitches the second his eyes land on you.
you’re so fucking innocent it hurts. wide eyes, soft mouth, the way you keep tugging at the hem of your skirt like you’re embarrassed it even exists. you look like you wandered in by accident, like you should be home in pastel pajamas reading something wholesome instead of sitting here in a den of pure sin.
harua’s always been a relatively submissive in his field of work. most people preferred to corruption a pretty boy—not be corrupted by one. the coils tight in his gut like a live wire. he wants to ruin you. slowly. sweetly. until that shy little blush turns into tears of pleasure and you’re begging him to ruin you for anybody else.
he pushes off the wall and stalks over, hips rolling with every step. when he slides onto the stool beside you, the scent of his cologne—something expensive and filthy—wraps around you like smoke.
“you look lost, bunny,” he murmurs, voice low and honeyed, the nagano dialect curling around his words. he leans in close enough that his breath brushes your ear. “first time? you’re shaking.”
you nod, too stunned to lie. up close he’s even prettier. you’d seen him briefly as you walked into the club—sharp yet soft eyes, plush lips, and a small face that makes him look almost delicate. but the way he’s looking at you isn’t delicate at all. it’s starving.
harua’s cock is already half-hard in his tight black pants just from the way you bite your lip.
“i’m harua,” he says, offering you a hand like a gentleman. his fingers are long, pretty, the kind of fingers that could ruin a girl. when you take it, he doesn’t shake—he strokes his thumb slow over your knuckles, once, twice, like he’s testing how soft you are. “and you… you’re too sweet to be here alone. someone could eat you up.”
he means it literally.
he’s already imagining it: those same fingers sliding under your skirt, finding you soaked and untouched, pushing inside while you whimper his name like a prayer. he wants to be the first one to make you come so hard you forget how to speak. wants to watch your innocent little face twist up when he feeds you his cock for the first time, inch by inch, until you’re choking on it and crying because it feels too good to be bad.
you tell him your name in a tiny voice and he stores it away like treasure. the rest of the night he stays close—buys you a drink that’s sweet and fruity so you don’t taste the alcohol, dances with you when the music slows. his hands stay respectful on your waist, but his mind is filthy.
he pictures bending you over the bar, flipping that little skirt up, and fucking you raw right there while the whole club watches him corrupt the pretty new girl. he pictures you on your knees in the bathroom, looking up at him with those big trusting eyes while he paints your tongue with cum and calls you his good little whore.
when closing time comes he walks you to the door like a gentleman, even though his dick is aching. he doesn’t ask for money. he doesn’t proposition you. not yet.
“see you soon, angel?” he asks, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. his voice is soft, almost reverent. “i like sweet things. i like keeping them.”
you come back three nights later.
harua spots you the second you walk in. his current client—a rich older woman who likes to ride him while he calls her mistress—is grinding on his lap in the vip booth, but his eyes are on you. you’re wearing the same skirt. you’re looking for him. the realization makes his cock throb so hard he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stay focused.
later, when the woman is gone and his pockets are full of cash, he finds you again. same stool. same shy posture.
“you came back for me, bunny. good girl.”
he doesn’t touch you anywhere inappropriate. not yet. he just stays close, buys you another sweet drink, dances with you again. every slow song his hands drift a little lower on your waist, thumbs stroking the bare skin where your top rides up, but never crossing the line. when he walks you out at closing he presses the softest kiss to your temple and murmurs, “dream of me tonight. i’ll be dreaming of you.”
night after night you keep coming back.
night after night harua falls deeper.
he fucks clients with your face behind his eyelids. when some businessman is balls-deep in his throat, harua closes his eyes and pictures your innocent mouth instead. when a woman rides him in the vip room and calls him her dirty toy, he’s imagining how sweetly you’d cry if he called you his. every load he takes, every moan he fakes, he’s thinking about ruining you—teaching you, breaking you open, making you just as filthy as he is.
by the seventh night the tension is unbearable.
you’re back on your usual stool, cheeks already flushed the second you see him walking toward you. harua doesn’t even bother with a client tonight. he’s been hard since he clocked in, cock straining against his tight black pants because he knows you’re coming.
this time he doesn’t stay at the bar.
“come with me, bunny,” he says, voice low and velvet-rough. he takes your hand—still gentle, still the gentleman—but his grip is firmer now, possessive. he leads you through the pulsing crowd, past the vip booths, down a dimly lit hallway only staff and high-paying guests use. he unlocks a private room with a keycard, the kind the club rents out for “extra services.”
the door clicks shut behind you. the music is muffled. the lights are low, red and warm. there’s a plush couch, a mirrored wall, and nothing else.
harua turns to you, eyes dark, dark hair falling over his pretty cheeks. his usual lazy smirk is gone. this is pure hunger.
“fuck… look at you,” he breathes, voice low and rough with that soft nagano lilt. “you really followed me in here, bunny. so trusting. so fucking innocent it makes my cock hurt.”
he steps in close—so close you can smell the expensive cologne mixed with the faint salt of his skin. one hand lifts, slow and gentle like he’s afraid you’ll bolt, and cups your cheek. his thumb brushes your bottom lip, pressing just enough to part it.
“you know what i am, right?” he murmurs, eyes dropping to watch your mouth. “i get paid to let people use me. bend me over, choke me, fill me up until i can’t walk straight. but you…” his thumb slides into your mouth, just the tip, pressing down on your tongue.
“you make me want to be the one who uses. i’ve been jerking off every night thinking about ruining this pretty little mouth. about making you cry on my cock.”
then he leans in and kisses you—soft at first, almost reverent, like he’s savoring the way you taste like innocence and fruity drinks. but the second you make a tiny, helpless sound against his lips, the kiss turns hungry. his tongue pushes in, claiming, fucking your mouth slow and deep while his free hand slides down your waist, under the hem of that too-short skirt he’s been fantasizing about flipping up for days.
“harua… i—i’ve never…” your voice is tiny, cheeks burning as you try to pull away—words mumbled against his eager lips. “i—i don’t know what to do. i’ve never even kissed anyone like that before tonight.”
his smirk is soft, almost tender, but his eyes are starving. “that’s okay, angel. that’s perfect. i’m gonna teach you everything. starting right now.”
he guides your hand down until your palm presses over the hard line of his cock straining against his tight black pants. you gasp at how hot and thick he feels.
“feel that?” he whispers, voice husky. “that’s what you do to me. every night you came back here looking all sweet and shy, this is how hard i got just thinking about you.”
you bite your lip hard, cheeks burning hotter than the red lights overhead. your fingers tremble against the thick, pulsing line under his pants, and you can’t help the tiny, overwhelmed sound that slips out.
“it’s so hot…” you whisper, voice barely above a breath. “and… and big. i—i’ve never felt anything like this before. is it supposed to be this hard just from me?”
he lets out a low, wrecked chuckle, forehead still pressed to yours. “mhm. all for you. every single night you sat at that bar looking like a lost little angel, this is what you did to me. now be a good girl and squeeze it for me. just like that—fuck, yes.”
your small hand tightens shyly around him through the fabric and he groans, hips twitching forward into your palm.
“i don’t know what i’m doing,” you confess, eyes glassy and wide. “i’ve never touched anyone like this. what if i mess up? what if i’m not… good enough?”
his thumb strokes your bottom lip again, eyes soft but burning. “you could never mess up, angel. you’re perfect. and i’m gonna teach you exactly how to make me feel good. starting with that pretty mouth. on your knees for me, bunny. come on… that’s it. good girl.”
he guides you down gently until your knees sink into the soft carpet between his spread thighs. his fingers thread through your hair, careful but possessive, holding you right where he wants you while he unzips slowly. his cock springs free—thick, flushed, the tip already shiny with pre-cum—and your eyes go even wider.
“oh my god…” you breathe, voice shaky. “it’s… it’s even bigger up close. i don’t think it’s gonna fit. i’ve never… i’ve never done this. what if i choke? what if i can’t breathe?”
he cups your cheek, thumb brushing the nervous pout already clinging to your lips. “shh, shh, baby. i know it looks scary. but i’m right here. i’m gonna teach you slow, okay? just open those pretty lips for me. stick your tongue out a little… yeah, just like that. such a good listener.”
you obey, mouth parting shyly, tongue peeking out. he taps the heavy head of his cock against it once, twice, smearing the salty pre-cum across your tongue.
“taste it, bunny,” he murmurs, voice velvet-rough. “go on. lick the tip nice and slow. get it all wet for me.”
your tongue darts out, tentative and sweet, swirling around the leaking slit. the taste is salty, manly yet addicting. you pull back only for a second—savoring the taste before going back to leave another kitten lick on his flushed tip. a broken little whimper vibrates against him and harua’s head tips back with a groan.
“fuck—yes. just like that. you’re already so good. now wrap your lips around the head… suck a little. gentle at first, like you’re kissing it.”
you do exactly as he says, mouth closing around the swollen tip, sucking softly. your cheeks hollow and another tiny, unsure hum escapes you.
harua’s fingers tighten gently in your hair, a low, shaky groan slipping from his throat.
“fuck… just like that, bunny. perfect. you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” his voice is rougher now, the nagano dialect thickened with arousal. “suck a little harder, angel. use your tongue on the underside while you move your head… up and down, slow. yeah—gooood girl.”
you try to follow every instruction, sliding your lips further down his shaft. he’s so thick your jaw already aches, but the way he’s looking down at you—like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen—makes you want to keep going. you pull back with a wet pop, breathing fast, lips shiny.
“am i doing it right?” you whisper, voice trembling. “it’s big… my mouth felt so full. i—i can’t take much more. what if i gag? i don’t want to disappoint you…”
harua laughs softly, low and dark, the sound vibrating through his chest. without warning, he grips your hair a little tighter and shoves your mouth back down onto his cock, sliding past your lips in one smooth push until the head bumps the back of your throat.
“of course you’re gonna gag, bunny,” he purrs, voice dripping with lust. “i want you to. i want to feel that tight little throat squeezing me while you cry those pretty tears. now open wider… take me deeper this time.”
your eyes fly wide open as he forces more of his thick length into your mouth. a wet, choked sound escapes you “mmph—!”—and your hands fly up to clutch at his thighs, nails digging into the fabric of his pants.
tears instantly prick your eyes and spill over as he holds you there for a second, savoring the way your throat flutters and spasms around him. hot and fat drops coat your flushed cheeks, and the sight of them makes harua’s cock twitch hard against your tongue.
“fuuck, bunny… look at those pretty tears,” he groans, voice low and wrecked. “crying already and i’m barely halfway down your throat. you’re so perfect.”
he holds you there for another long second, savoring the wet flutter of your throat around his cockhead, before he finally eases back just enough for you to gasp in a desperate breath. strings of spit connect your swollen lips to his glistening length. you’re coughing, crying, eyes glassy and wide, but you quite don’t pull away.
harua’s thumb gently wipes the tears from your cheek only to smear them across your bottom lip like gloss.
“such a good little crybaby for me already,” he murmurs, almost tenderly. “i’ve been dreaming about breaking this innocent mouth for weeks now. every time i let some rich bastard use me, i closed my eyes and pictured your face instead. now you’re really here… on your knees like my own personal whore.”
he pushes back in, slower this time but deeper, fucking your mouth with shallow, deliberate thrusts while he watches every tear track down your flushed face.
“eyes on me, angel. let me see how pretty you look choking on cock for the first time.”
you obey, watery eyes locked on his as he uses your mouth. the praise and filth keep pouring out of him in that sweet, honeyed voice that doesn’t match the way he’s ruining you.
“that’s it… suck a little harder. use that tongue—yeah, fuck, just like that. you’re a natural. gonna be my perfect little cocksleeve, yeah?”
harua’s voice is ragged now, the soft nagano accent thicker with lust as he fucks your mouth in slow, deep strokes. he keeps one hand tangled in your hair, the other gently stroking your tear-streaked cheek like you’re something precious even while he ruins you.
every time you gag and cry harder, his cock twitches against your tongue. the wet, obscene sounds of your throat and the sight of your glassy, teary eyes make him lose control.
“shit— i’m close,” he pants, hips stuttering. “gonna cum in this virgin mouth. you’re gonna swallow every drop like a good girl, understand?”
you can only whimper around him, tears pouring down your face. a few more rough thrusts and harua buries himself deep, holding your head still as thick, hot ropes of cum spill across your tongue and down your throat. he moans low and broken, eyes half-lidded, watching you struggle to take it all.
when he finally pulls out, you’re coughing and gasping, lips swollen and shiny with spit and cum. a thin string still connects your bottom lip to his softening cock. harua stares down at you like he’s in love.
he drops to his knees in front of you, cupping your wet face with both hands and kissing you deep, tasting himself on your tongue without a care. when he pulls back, his thumb gently wipes the tears and cum from your chin.
“you were perfect,” he murmurs, voice soft again, almost reverent. “so fucking perfect. my sweet little pet.”
he helps you up on shaky legs, straightens your skirt, and even fixes your hair with careful fingers. then he pulls your phone out of your small purse without asking. his long fingers move quickly across the screen as he saves his number.
he types his contact name as harua ♡ and adds a little bunny emoji next to it. he sends himself a text from your phone so he has your number too, then hands it back.
“text me when you get home safe, bunny,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “and don’t even think about coming back here without telling me first. i like knowing where my sweet girl is.”
he walks you out of the private room and all the way to the club exit like a perfect gentleman, even though his eyes are still dark with obsession. one last kiss to your temple and he lets you go.
the first night harua pulled you into the private room, he was still somewhat gentle.
by the end of the next week, that mask had started to crack.
he texted you constantly. sweet messages at first—did you get home safe, bunny? i miss your pretty little face already—then darker ones when you took too long to reply. you’re ignoring me? after i made you cum so hard you cried? that’s not very nice, angel.
then sweet messages laced with poison: did you touch yourself thinking about my fingers inside you? be honest, bunny. good girls don’t lie. when you hesitate to reply, he sends another: if you ignore me i’ll worry. you don’t want me worrying, do you?
you always answer. you always apologize. you always come back.
night four he had you bent over the couch in the private room, skirt flipped up, panties ripped down your thighs while he fingered you from behind with three slick fingers. every time you tried to muffle your sobs into the cushion he’d yank your head back by your hair and force you to watch yourself in the mirror.
“look at that pretty face,” he whispered, accent thick and sweet like poison. “crying like a little slut just from my fingers. you know you’re not innocent anymore, right? good girls don’t come back to a place like this night after night. seems like you're all ruined, oh well."
you only shook your head, tears streaming ans he only smiled softly and curled his fingers harder.
by night six, he starts guilt-tripping you harder. when you tried to skip a night, he sent you photos—his pretty cock hard and leaking in his hand, captioned this is what you do to me and then you disappear? i thought you cared about me, angel.
you show up the next night shaking.
in the private room he’d gotten less patient—making you kneel and suck him every single time. no longer asking. he simply pushes you down, guiding his pretty pink cock past your lips, and fucking your throat with slow, deliberate strokes while he strokes your hair like you are precious. because to him, you may be his most prized possession.
“swallow it all this time,” he cooed when he was close, holding your head down until your throat spasmed and fresh tears poured down your cheeks. “if you really cared about me you’d take it better. other people pay me to let them use my throat. you get it for free and you still gag like a baby.”
when you choked and cried harder he came down your throat with a broken moan, then kissed your cum-stained lips right after and told you how perfect you were.
week six is when things became unhealthy, well thats what you friends had said.
he started isolating you.
every time you mentioned your friends he’d get that soft, hurt look in his eyes. “they don’t understand us—don't understand you. didn't those friends leave you here all alone the first night? what would've happened to you if i did find you?.. hm? they just want to use you and throw you away. you know i’d never do that to you.”
you stopped telling them where you were going, hell—you stopped telling them most things.
night nine he made you sit on the vip balcony and watch him work. a wealthy woman was riding him in the booth below while he stared straight up at you the entire time. every time she moaned his name he mouthed yours. when she finally left, he came straight to you, still hard, still smelling like her perfume, and shoved two fingers that had just been inside her into your mouth.
“taste what you’re missing,” he murmured darkly. “this is what i have to do because you won’t let me fuck you yet. you’re making me whore myself out while your virgin cunt stays empty. doesn’t that make you feel selfish?”
you cried so hard you couldn’t speak. harua kissed your tears away and told you it was okay he forgave you. then he spent the next hour edging you until you were a shaking, broken mess, denying you every single time you got close.
night eleven he crossed another line.
he had you naked from the waist down on the couch, legs spread obscenely wide while he slowly fucked you with just the tip of his cock—never pushing past the head, just rubbing and stretching your entrance until you were sobbing and begging.
“please, harua… you can just put it in… i promis—”
he cut you off by slapping your clit lightly with the wet head of his cock, eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.
“you don’t get to decide when i ruin you, bunny. you’ve been teasing me for almost a month. coming in here every few nights dripping and desperate, letting me use your mouth, then going home like a good little girl. if you really wanted me you’d let me fuck you raw right now.”
when you tried to pull away he gripped your hips hard enough to bruise and kept teasing your entrance, voice soft and vicious.
“stay still. good girls don’t run from the man who owns them.”
you came just from the humiliation and the constant pressure of his cockhead against your hole, shaking and crying while he praised you for being such a pathetic, needy little thing.
friday night.
the club is packed, bass throbbing like a second heartbeat between your legs as you walk in. you’re already trembling before you even see him.
harua finds you instantly. tonight there’s no slow approach. he takes your wrist and pulls you through the crowd, straight into the private room. the second the door locks he presses you face-first against the mirrored wall, yanks your skirt up, and shoves two fingers into your soaked cunt without warning.
you cry out at the sudden stretch, legs shaking.
“harua—wait—please—”
“shhh.” his voice is low, almost loving, as he fucks you with those long fingers, deep and relentless. “you’ve been such a good girl the last two weeks. texting when i tell you. coming back every time i call. letting me play with this virgin pussy until you cry.” he curls his fingers viciously against your g-spot. “but i’ve been patient long enough, yea?.”
you sob against the mirror, mascara running, thighs trembling as he forces pleasure through you whether you want it or not.
he leans in, lips brushing your ear, silver chain cold against your shoulder.
“mm…i’m off work tomorrow,” he murmurs, voice dark and possessive. “no clients. no one else touching me. i want you to come over to my place instead.”
his fingers never stop moving, dragging you closer and closer to the edge while he speaks.
“you’re going to let me have you properly this time. no more teasing. no more stopping. i’m going to fuck you raw in my bed until the only thing left in that pretty head is my name and my cum.”
he presses his hard cock against your ass through his pants, grinding slowly.
“and you’re going to thank me for it, aren’t you, angel?” his teeth graze your neck. “because you’re already mine. you’ve been mine since the first night you let me cum down your throat like a good little pet.”
he finally lets you cum—hard, violent, knees buckling—while he holds you up and whispers against your hair:
“tomorrow night. my place.”
your hands are shaking so badly you can barely press the doorbell. you’re wearing the same too-short skirt he likes, because you knew he wouldn't be too happy if you wore something sloppy. when the door opens, harua is standing there in a black tank top and sweatpants, hair still damp from a shower, a pretty chain resting against his collarbones.
no club lights. no bass. no witnesses.
just him, and the soft, dangerous smile that makes your stomach twist.
“there’s my bunny,” he murmurs, voice low and sugary. he pulls you inside by the wrist, closes the door, and locks it with a quiet click that sounds far too final. “you actually came. good girl. i knew you wouldn't run, you know where you belong.”
the apartment is dim, but even despite the low light, you can see how expensive it looks, marble countertops in his kitchen, modern furniture, and the smell of his $400 cologne drenching the air. before you can even look around properly, he’s backing you against the wall, cupping your face with both hands like you’re something fragile.
“you’re trembling,” he whispers, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “still so scared of me after everything i’ve done to you… after you’ve cried on my fingers and choked on my cock for two whole weeks.” he leans in and kisses you slow, deep, sweet—the kind of kiss that makes your knees weak. “that’s okay. i like you scared. it’ll make you tighter.”
he keeps his fingers loosely wrapped around your wrist, thumb stroking slow circles over your pulse point as he looks down at you. the hallway light is warm and low, casting gentle shadows across his face. his hair is still slightly damp, silver strands catching the light, and that lazy, knowing smirk is back—softer tonight, almost fond.
“you’re shaking already, bunny,” he murmurs, voice low and honeyed.
“we haven’t even done anything yet.”
he guides you further inside, not toward the bedroom, but to his living room. the space is neat, expensive, and dimly lit—just a single pretty lamp and the city glow filtering through half-drawn curtains. he sits on the wide leather couch first, then tugs you down so you’re straddling his lap, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his thighs. your too-short skirt rides up, but he doesn’t touch you there. not yet.
his hands settle respectfully on your waist, fingers warm through the thin fabric of your top.
“hi,” he says simply, like this is a normal date. like he didn’t spend the last few weeks finger-fucking you in a club private room until you sobbed. he leans in and kisses you—slow, sweet, almost chaste at first. just soft presses of his plush lips against yours, again and again, until you relax a fraction.
when he feels you soften, he tilts his head and deepens it, tongue sliding lazily against yours, coaxing rather than demanding. one hand leaves your waist to cup the back of your neck, thumb stroking the sensitive skin there while he kisses you like he has all the time in the world.
minutes pass like that. just kissing. deep, wet, unhurried kisses that leave you dizzy and breathing harder. every time you try to rock your hips against him, he stills you with a gentle but firm grip, pulling back just enough to speak against your lips.
“not yet, angel. we’re going slow tonight. i want to enjoy you properly.”
the kiss drags on, slow and syrupy, until your head is spinning and your thighs are trembling on either side of his lap. harua keeps one hand anchored at your waist, the other cradling the back of your neck like you’re something breakable and precious. every time you try to roll your hips, chase the hard line of his cock pressing up through his sweatpants, he stills you with a gentle squeeze and a soft little “shh” against your mouth.
“slow, bunny,” he murmurs, voice low and velvet-rough, “i’ve waited weeks to have you like this. i’m not rushing.”
he kisses you until your lips feel swollen and your breathing is shaky. only then does he pull back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes half-lidded and dark.
“look at me.”
you do. your eyes are already glassy.
harua’s thumb strokes your bottom lip. “you’re going to let me take everything tonight, yeah? every first. every tear. every little sound. you’re going to give it all to me.”
you nod before you can even think, a tiny, overwhelmed whimper slipping out.
“good girl.”
he kisses you again, deeper this time, tongue sliding against yours while his hands finally start to move. they slip under your top, palms warm against your bare skin, slowly pushing the fabric up until he’s peeling it off you. the cool air hits your chest and you instinctively try to cover yourself, but harua catches your wrists and pins them gently behind your back with one hand.
“don’t hide. let me see what’s mine.” his voice drops lower. “been dreaming about these pretty tits for weeks.”
he leans in and drags his tongue over one nipple, slow and wet, then sucks it into his mouth with a low groan. your back arches hard. he takes his time, licking and sucking until both nipples are shiny and aching, until you’re squirming in his lap and making those helpless little sounds he loves so much.
only then does he slide his hands under your skirt, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties.
“up,” he orders softly.
you lift your hips. he drags the soaked fabric down your thighs and pockets them without a word, like a trophy.
two long fingers slide through your folds and you jolt, a broken gasp leaving you.
“already dripping,” he coos, almost tenderly. “my poor little bunny. been wet for me since you walked through my door, huh?”
he circles your clit with the pad of his middle finger, feather-light, teasing until your thighs shake. then he sinks one finger inside you, slow and deep, curling it just right. your head falls forward onto his shoulder with a sob.
“haru—ah—!”
“shh. just one for now. gotta stretch you open nice and easy.” he pumps the finger in and out, adding a second when your hips start rocking on their own. “that’s it… fuck yourself on my fingers like a good girl. show me how bad you need it.”
he scissors his fingers, stretching you, curling them against that spot that makes you see stars. his thumb finds your clit and rubs tight, steady circles. your moans turn into little cries, tears already slipping down your cheeks.
harua watches your face the entire time, eyes dark and obsessed.
“look at those pretty tears,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “crying on my fingers again. you’re so fucking perfect when you cry for me.”
he keeps you right on the edge for long minutes, slowing down every time you get close, until you’re babbling and sobbing into his neck.
“please—please, harua, i can’t— i need—”
he pulls his fingers out suddenly and you whine at the loss.
“ah-ah-ah. no, you’ve cum on my fingers enough. want you to do it in my mouth this time.”
before you can protest, he lifts you like you weigh nothing and lays you back on the wide leather couch. he settles between your spread thighs, pushing them wider apart with his palms until your pussy is completely exposed to him.
the cool air hits your soaked folds and you instinctively try to close your legs, but harua’s grip tightens, keeping you open like a pretty little offering.
“—wait—ah—!” your voice cracks, shy and overwhelmed. “you don’t have to… i’ve never— no one’s ever—”
“i know,” he cuts you off softly, eyes locked on your dripping cunt like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. his voice drops into that sweet, honeyed drawl. “that’s exactly why i’m doing it. no one else has tasted this pretty pussy before. only me. and no one will get to taste it after, right bunny?”
he leans in closer, breath hot against your soaked pussy as he stares up at you from between your thighs.
“right, bunny?” he repeats, voice softer but edged with something dangerous. “say it. tell me no one else will ever taste this pretty cunt. tell me it’s only ever going to be mine.”
his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you open even wider when you hesitate. a single tear slips down your cheek. harua watches it fall with hungry fascination.
“i… it’s only yours, harua…” you whisper, voice trembling and shy.
his lips curve into a slow, satisfied smile.
“good girl.”
then his mouth is on you.
he leans in slowly, dragging the flat of his tongue from your entrance all the way up to your swollen clit in one long, filthy stripe—groaning deeply at your taste. the sound vibrates straight through your core. the wet heat of his mouth makes your whole body jerk.
a broken whimper spills out of you.
harua groans deeply, like he’s the one being pleasured. “fuck… you taste even sweeter than i imagined.” he licks you again, slower this time, savoring every drop. “been thinking about burying my face between these thighs for weeks. every time my mouth was being used i was imagining—eating your innocent little cunt.”
he seals his plush lips around your clit and sucks gently, then harder, alternating between slow, lazy licks and tight, wet suction that makes your toes curl. two fingers slide inside you without warning, curling instantly against that spongy spot that makes you see stars.
your hands fly to his hair, fingers threading through the messy black and silver strands as your back arches clean off the couch.
“ha—harua—! it’s too much— i— i can’t—!”
“you can,” he murmurs against your pussy, the vibration making you sob. “you’re gonna cum on my tongue like a good girl. mmmh—wanna feel this tight little hole fluttering while i drink you up.”
he eats you like he’s starving—messy, wet, and nasty. the obscene sounds of his tongue and fingers working your soaked cunt fill the quiet living room. the soft squelches causing your face to burn. harua moans and hums against you, eyes flicking up every few seconds to watch your face twist in pure pleasure and embarrassment. both emotions fighting for dominance.
every time your thighs start to shake and your cries get higher, he slows down just enough to keep you dangling right on the edge.
tears are streaming down your cheeks again. you’re babbling now, half-sobbing, half-moaning.
“please—please please please—mmmph—m’ so close—hng—need to cum—”
“that’s itttt, bunny… beg for me,” he purrs, voice thick and dripping with lust, that soft nagano accent curling around every word. “lemme hear how badly you need to cum. such a polite little virgin, crying and whimpering for my tongue.”
he sucks your swollen clit back into his mouth hard, tongue flicking fast and merciless while his two fingers pump deeper, curling viciously against that spongy spot inside you with every stroke. the wet, obscene noises get louder—slick, filthy sounds of his mouth devouring you mixed with the wet squelch of his fingers.
your hips jerk helplessly, thighs trembling violently around his head as you sob and babble.
harua doesn’t slow down this time.
he doubles down, sucking harder, licking faster, fingers fucking you with deep, punishing strokes. his pretty silver-tipped hair is messy from your desperate grip, but he doesn’t care. he moans continuously into your cunt, eyes locked on your tear-drenched face the entire time.
“cum for me, bun,” he growls against your clit, voice wrecked. “cum on my tongue like the needy little slut you’re becoming. let me taste how hard i’m ruining you.”
the coil in your stomach snaps violently.
you cum with a broken, high-pitched cry, back arching sharply off the couch as your entire body shakes. your walls clamp down hard around his fingers, fluttering and pulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through you. fresh hot tears pour down your cheeks whilst you babble nonsense—far too overwhelmed.
harua moans loudly, almost greedily, as he continues licking and sucking you through every single pulse, and drinking down every drop of your release like he’s addicted. he doesn’t stop until your legs are twitching uncontrollably and your sobs have turned into soft, overwhelmed whimpers.
only then does he pull his fingers out slowly and crawl up your trembling body. his lips and chin are shiny with your slick. he looks completely feral—pupils constricting to pinpricks, cheeks flushed a pretty shade of red, that smile
harua hovers over you, his face inches from yours, lips and chin still glistening with your release. his eyes are dark, hungry, and completely fixated on the fresh tears sliding down your flushed cheeks, smirk turned to a small unsettling grin.
“mm… so pretty like this,” he murmurs, voice low and rough but still attempting to hold onto that sweetness. his thumb gently traces one of the tear tracks. “all teary-eyed and ruined from just my mouth. what do we say, bunny?”
you’re still trembling, chest heaving, thighs twitching from the aftershocks. your voice comes out small, shaky, and embarrassingly wet. the words slip from your mouth before you can even think about them—far too out of it from your orgasm.
“th-thank you… harua…” you whisper, its barely audible as you pant through the words. “thank you for… for making me cum…”
he kisses your forehead once, almost gently, then stands up and takes your wrist in a firm grip. without another word he pulls you up from the couch. your legs are still shaking so badly you nearly collapse, but harua catches you, steadying you with a hand on your waist.
“come on, bunny. living room is cute, but i’m not fucking you for the first time on the couch like some cheap client.”
he leads you down the short hallway, grip never loosening. the bedroom door is already ajar. the room is tidy—cozy, not what you are expecting from the brief view you got of his otherwise bare bones living room and kitchen. a few plushies placed upon his bed, and god—bed is huge, covered in silky pretty pastel purple sheets that look expensive and cold.
the second you’re inside, harua gives you a light but firm push between your shoulder blades.
you fall forward onto the bed with a startled gasp, your face sinking into the cool, silky sheets. before you can push yourself up, harua grabs your hips and yanks your ass high into the air, forcing you onto your knees with your chest pressed down. your cheek stays buried in the sheets, ass presented up like an offering.
he spreads your thighs wider, completely exposing your dripping, freshly eaten pussy to him.
“stay just like that,” he orders softly, voice low and sweet. “face down, ass up.”
you hear the rustle of fabric as he pushes his sweatpants down. his cock slaps heavy and hot against your ass cheek once, twice, smearing warm precum on your soft skin.
then his hands are on you again, one stroking slowly up your spine, the other gripping your hip possessively. harua’s voice drops, still velvety but now carrying a meaner, mocking edge.
“so… be honest with me, bunny.” he leans over your back, lips brushing your ear as the fat head of his cock teases up and down your soaked slit.
“how many people have fucked this pretty little cunt before me?”
he presses just the tip against your entrance, not pushing in, just letting you feel the stretch.
“or maybe…” his voice turns darker, almost cruel in its sweetness, “you’ve let other guys play with you, hmm? fingers? toys? did some boy from your nice little life get to taste you before i did?”.
harua keeps the fat head of his cock pressed right against your entrance, not pushing in, just letting you feel the heavy, threatening stretch. he gives a low, mocking chuckle when he feels you tense, his lips brush the shell of your ear as he waits for your answer, voice dripping with mock sweetness.
you’re shaking, face buried deeper into the silky purple sheets, voice small and trembling.
“i-i’ve never been with anyone—promise…” you whimper nervously. “i’ve never let anyone fuck me. that’s why—um…my friends dragged me to the club that night… they said i needed to get laid or something…that i was too innocent for my age. but i’ve never done anything with another person before you. just—um—toys…”
harua’s grip on your hip tightens, a low, pleased sound vibrating in his chest.
“only toys?” he asks, voice turning darker, more curious. “tell me, bunny. what kind of toys have you been putting in this tight little cunt?…were any of them as big as me?”
your cheeks burn with humiliation. you squeeze your eyes shut, voice barely above a whisper.
“just… just a couple of small vibrators and one dildo…but—it was small—nothing like you.”
harua lets out a low, satisfied hum, almost a purr, as his thumb continues stroking soothingly up and down your spine.
“that’s what i like to hear…” he murmurs, voice dripping with dark sweetness. “such a good, honest little pet. never been touched by anyone else. just some pathetic little toys… and now you’re here, presenting this untouched cunt to me.”
he pulls his hips back slightly, then presses forward again, bullying the thick, swollen head of his cock harder against your tiny entrance. the pressure is relentless. he doesn’t ease in gently—he forces the fat head past your tight ring of muscle with a slow, steady push.
the stretch is immediate and intense.
you gasp sharply into the sheets, eyes flying wide as the head finally pops inside you. it feels impossibly big compared to the toys you've played around with, it's like he’s splitting you open and he’s barely even put the tip in.
“s’ too much—”
harua groans deeply, the sound low and wrecked, his fingers digging hard into your hip to keep you from squirming away. you are sure that tiny crescents created by his nails will be left for you to see tomorrow.
“fuuuck… there we go,” he breathes, voice hoarse with lust. “eh? too much? it’s barley an inch, you gotta take it all, bunny.”
he lets out a soft, mocking laugh that vibrates against your back. the fat head of his cock is lodged inside you, stretching your entrance obscenely wide, and he hasn’t even given you more than the tip yet. his free hand slides up your back and tangles gently in your hair, not pulling, just holding you down against the cool sheets.
“you’re already crying and saying it’s too much?” he coos, almost tenderly even as he pushes a bit deeper. “how pathetic… and how cute. i haven’t even fed you half my cock and you’re falling apart already.”
he rocks his hips again, slowly bullying another thick inch into your fluttering walls, watching with dark fascination as your pussy stretches obscenely around him. the burn is intense. you sob into the sheets, fingers clawing at the silky fabric. his cock is far bigger than any of the tiny toys you’d used before.
“shh, shh… breathe for me, angel,” he coos, almost tenderly, even as he pushes in deeper. “you can take it. you’re gonna take it—every single inch like a good girl. this is what you came back to the club for night after night, right? this is what your innocent little body was begging for. this is what you were made for.”
another shallow thrust. then another.
he groans softly as he sinks in deeper, hips pressing forward until he’s almost fully buried inside you. the stretch is overwhelming—burning, full, almost too much. your sobs are muffled into the silky purple sheets, fresh tears pouring down your face and soaking the light fabric dark.
harua’s hand tightens in your hair, not yanking, just holding you down as he bottoms out completely with one final, firm push. his hips flush against your ass, every inch of his thick cock buried deep inside your fluttering cunt.
“fuuuuck…” he moans, long and wrecked. “you’re mine now, you know that, right? this cunt belongs to me. every tear, every whimper, everything—it’s all fucking mine. no more club. there’s no need to go there anymore… you just come here and wait for me like a good little pet, yeah?”
all you can manage is a pathetic, broken whine as your walls clench hard around his cock. the stretch is so overwhelming that your vision blurs.
harua rolls his eyes at your lack of proper answer, but his voice stays soft and mocking. “aww, bunny can’t even speak? already? eh…? that’s okay… i’ll fuck the words out of you.”
he starts moving—painfully slow, deep, deliberate rolls of his hips that drag his cock almost all the way out before sliding back in to the hilt. every stroke feels like it’s reshaping you from the inside.
“does it hurt, angel?” he coos, voice dripping with fake sympathy while he fucks you in those long, claiming strokes. “is my cock too big for this tiny inexperienced pussy? poor thing… did you really think those pathetic little toys could prepare you for me?”
“h-harua… ah—! it’s so deep— too deep—!” you whimper, voice high and shaky. “s’ too big… i-i can’t— hngh—!” finger clawing at the fabric beneath you, but the cool silk only slips from your fingers with each grab.
he chuckles softly, still moving slow and deep, making sure you feel every single inch of his cock.
“yes, you can, angel. listen to how wet you are… your pussy is sucking me in so greedily. sounds like you were made to take my cock—made for me.”
he keeps the slow, torturous pace for long minutes, grinding against that warm gummy spot inside you with every thrust. your moans and whimpers on,y grow louder, more desperate, turning into broken little cries every time he bottoms out.
“harua—! ahh— please— it feels—feels too mu—i’m—i’m gonna—!”
“you’re gonna what, bunny?” he mocks, voice sweet yet cruel. “gonna cum already? just from my cock stretching you open? how adorably pathetic. i guess you can cum, go on"
he reaches around and rubs tight, steady circles over your swollen clit while still fucking you slow and deep.
you shatter without warning.
a broken, high-pitched cry tears from your throat as your orgasm crashes through you. your walls clamp down hard around his thick cock, fluttering and pulsing violently as you cum harder than you ever have in your life. fresh tears pour down your face, tears and your release soaking the sheets whilst you sob and shake beneath him.
harua groans loudly, but he doesn’t stop. he fucks you straight through it—slow, deep, relentless strokes that drag out every wave of your orgasm until you’re twitching and oversensitive.
“harua—! too much—! please— i can’t—!” you sob, trying to scramble forward on the bed, crawling away from the overstimulation as your body jerks and writhes.
in one swift movement, harua’s hand shoots out and grabs your ankle, yanking you back toward him hard. you yelp as he drags you back into position.
“don’t you fucking run from me,” he growls, voice dripping with slight annoyance. how dare you try to run from him? don't you know your place? where you belong?
he slaps your soaked pussy hard—a sharp, wet smack right over your sensitive clit. you cry out, jolting violently.
then he pushes back in to the hilt in one brutal thrust, burying himself completely.
a broken scream leaves your lips.
harua grips your hair tighter, yanking your head back sharply so your back arches hard against his sweat soaked tank-top. his hips snap forward in brutal, punishing thrusts, fucking you so deep and hard the bed creaks loudly beneath you two.
“mmmphh— that’s it, bunny,” he growls, voice low and almost desperate, “scream for me. cry louder. i want my neighbors to hear what i'm doing to you—want everyone to know how much your virgin cunt is struggling to take me— to know how much of a slut you are despite the struggle—
you’re a mess—sobbing, drooling, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you choke out broken sounds with every brutal thrust.
“ahh—! too hard—! s’ too much—! i can’t—hngh— ahh!”
he laughs softly, dark and satisfied, leaning down to bite at your shoulder while his hips slap loudly against your ass.
“you can’t? hm…but you’re creaming all over my cock, angel. look at you… already came once and you’re still squeezing me like a desperate little whore."
he slaps your ass hard, the sharp sound echoing in the room, then reaches around to slap your swollen, sensitive clit again—harder this time.
you scream at the sudden sharp sting—your hips jerk violently, walls fluttering wildly around him and squeezing around him, fresh slick gushing out of you—soaking the sheeks beneath.
he yanks your hair again, forcing your head back further so he can see your tear-stained face from the side.
“look at those pretty tears… fuck, you cry so beautifully when i ruin you.” his voice drops into something almost reverent, even as he destroys you. “my perfect little crybaby. my innocent girl turning into such a pathetic, cock-drunk mess for me.”
your second orgasm hits you without mercy—even stronger than the first. your whole body shakes violently as you sob and wail, walls spasming and gushing around his thick cock. he can see how your thighs pulse and your body struggles against his hold—obviously too overwhelmed. but he makes no effort to stop, he hasn't even came yet.
harua groans loudly but doesn’t slow down. he fucks you straight through it, pounding you harder, using your hair like a handle to pull you back onto his cock with every thrust.
“that’s my good girl… cumming again already? so fucking easy to break.”
he leans in close, lips brushing your ear as he keeps railing you mercilessly.
“you’re never leaving me, bunny. you understand that now, right? this pussy is mine. this body is mine. every single tear you cry while i fuck you belongs to me.”
harua’s fingers twist tighter in your hair, wrenching your head back with zero mercy. your back bows sharply, pain blooming down your spine as the top of your back collides with his sweat-slicked chest. his hips slam into you hard and ruthless, the loud, wet smack of skin against skin filling the room like pure filth.
“say it,” he snarls against your ear, voice low and dark. “say you understand. say you belong to me.”
you can barely form words anymore—only broken, tear-soaked sobs and whimpers fall from your lips with every devastating thrust.
“i—i belong to you—! harua—! ahh—! yours— i’m yours—!” you cry out, voice cracking.
his fingers tighten in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to arch your spine even harder against him, forcing you to feel every single veined inch of his thick cock buried inside your fluttering heat. the silver chain around his neck swings forward, cool metal brushing your overheated skin with every ragged breath he takes.
“fuck… that’s my good girl,” he rasps, voice low and velvet-rough, the soft nagano lilt thicker than ever with lust. “say it again. let me hear how pretty you sound when you admit you’re ruined for anyone else.”
he doesn’t wait for you to obey. his hips snap forward in one savage thrust, driving so deep your vision sparks white. the wet, filthy sound of skin meeting skin fills the dim bedroom, mingling with the obscene squelch of your soaked, overstretched pussy taking him to the hilt again and again. he sets a brutal rhythm—long, punishing strokes that drag almost all the way out before slamming back in, grinding against that sensitive spot inside you with cruel precision.
he drops your hair, body falling flush aganist the sheets now drenched with your various fluids. you sob helplessly into the silky pastel purple, fresh tears soaking deeply into the sheets amongst everything else beneath your cheek. your thighs tremble violently, knees threatening to give out, but harua’s grip on your hip keeps you exactly where he wants you—ass up, back arched, completely exposed and helpless.
“tell me,” he demands, voice dripping with mock sweetness even as he destroys you. “tell me no one else will ever touch this pussy. tell me you’re done pretending to be that sweet innocent girl. you belong in my bed now—crying on my cock like my personal little whore.”
you’re barely coherent, but the words tumble out between sobs anyway, driven by the relentless drag of his cock and the pressure on your clit. “no one else—! only you—! i’m yours— harua’s— please—!”
the praise and filth pouring from him in that honeyed voice only makes you clench harder. harua groans, hips stuttering as your walls flutter wildly around him.
“that’s it… fuck, just like that.” his thrusts grow faster, meaner, the bed creaking loudly beneath you. sweat slicks his chest, dripping down onto your back. his messy hair falls into his eyes, but he doesn’t bother brushing it away—he’s too focused on the way your body shakes beneath him.
your next orgasm slams into you. it’s sharper than the last two, almost painful in its intensity. your entire body convulses, a raw, broken scream tearing from your throat as your pussy spasms violently around his cock, gushing slick down your thighs. tears stream freely down your flushed cheeks, your mind going blissfully blank.
harua curses loudly, voice wrecked. “gooood girl—fuck, bunny—milk me just like that—”
he buries himself to the hilt and cums hard, thick, hot ropes of cum flooding deep inside you in heavy pulses. he grinds against your ass, pushing every drop as far as it will go, claiming you from the inside out. the sensation of being filled so completely draws a fresh, overwhelmed whimper from you.
for several long moments the only sounds are your ragged sobs and his heavy breathing. harua stays buried inside you, savoring the way your walls continue to flutter and milk him.
slowly, he eases out, watching with dark, obsessive hunger as his cum immediately leaks from your abused, puffy hole. he collects some with two fingers and pushes it back inside you lazily, possessively, fucking it deeper while you twitch and whine.
“mine,” he murmurs, almost reverently. “look at how well you take my cum… like you were always meant to be full of it.”
he flips you onto your back with surprising care, crawling over your trembling body. his eyes—still blown black with lust—soften at the edges as he takes in your completely ruined state: swollen lips, tear-streaked cheeks, mascara running in dark rivulets, chest heaving. he cups your face with both hands, thumbs gently brushing away the tears still slipping from your lashes.
“you were perfect, angel,” he whispers, voice dropping back into that soft, almost loving tone. he leans down and kisses you slow and deep, tasting the salt of your tears and the faint remnants of your earlier orgasms. the kiss is unhurried now, tender in a way that feels dangerously intimate after how hard he just fucked you.
when he pulls back, he presses softer kisses to your forehead, your damp cheeks, the tip of your nose, then rests his forehead against yours. his silver chain pools cool against your collarbone.
“think i’ll keep you, pet” he whispers.
two months later.
harua’s apartment no longer feels like his.
it feels like yours—or rather, like the cage he’s so lovingly built around you.
your old life is gone. your friends have been slowly cut off with carefully planted guilt trips and soft, teary-eyed manipulations until they stopped reaching out. your things are here now—folded neatly in his drawers, your pastel pajamas hanging beside his black silk shirts, your favorite plush bunny sitting on his bed like a silent witness to how far you’ve fallen.
you don’t go to the club anymore.
you just wait for him at home, just like he told you to.
tonight he came back later than usual. the moment the front door clicked shut, you were already on your knees in the entryway like the well-trained little pet you’ve become—wearing nothing but one of his oversized black button-ups, the hem barely covering your ass.
harua’s eyes darkened the second he saw you.
now he has you bent over the dining table, cheek pressed against the cool marble table, legs spread wide. the shirt is bunched up around your waist and his cock is buried to the hilt inside you, fucking you in slow, deep, possessive strokes.
“still so tight for me,” he murmurs, voice breathy and silken, “even after i’ve fucked this pretty cunt almost every single day for two months… you still squeeze me like a virgin.”
you whimper brokenly, fingers scrabbling against the table as he grinds deep.
“ha-haru— ahh—!”
he leans over you, chest pressed to your back, one hand sliding up to wrap loosely around your throat while the other grips your hip hard enough to bruise.
“look at you,” he coos, almost tenderly. “my sweet, innocent bunny… now you cry so sweetly when i fuck you. you used to fight it. used to whimper ‘too much’ and try to crawl away.” he chuckles darkly, rolling his hips in a slow circle that makes you sob. “now you just spread your legs and thank me when i fill you up.”
he pulls out almost completely, then slams back in hard, punching the air out of your lungs.
you cry out sharply, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks.
harua groans at the sight.
“fuck… there they are. my favorite tears.” he kisses the side of your face, licking a tear track before whispering hotly against your ear, “you’re so much prettier when you cry on my cock, angel. my perfect little crybaby.”
his pace picks up—still deep, but faster now, more relentless. the wet, filthy sound of him fucking you fills the entire apartment.
“tell me who you belong to,” he demands softly, tightening his fingers around your throat just enough to make your head spin.
“i—i belong to you—” you sob, voice shaky and wrecked. “only you, harua— please—!”
“good girl,” he praises, voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “that’s right. no more friends. no more club. no more world outside of me. you’re mine to keep. mine to ruin. mine to fill whenever i want.”
he reaches around and rubs firm circles over your swollen clit, never slowing his thrusts.
you shatter hard, crying out his name as your third orgasm of the night crashes through you. your walls clamp down around him, pulsing and fluttering, milking his cock while you sob and shake.
harua moans low and broken, burying himself as deep as possible as he finally lets go.
“take it— take all of it, bunny—”
he cums hard, thick, hot spurts flooding deep inside you, filling you until you can feel it leaking out around where he’s still buried. he keeps grinding lazily, pushing his cum even deeper, like he’s trying to mark every inch of you.
when he finally stills, he doesn’t pull out.
instead he wraps both arms around you, holding you tight against his chest as he nuzzles into your neck, pressing soft, almost loving kisses to your tear-stained skin.
“my sweet girl,” he whispers, voice soft and reverent now. “you’ve become so perfect for me… i don’t know what i’d do if you ever tried to leave.”
his fingers gently stroke your hair as he stays buried inside you, warm and possessive.
𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾—𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹. 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗈. 𝖻𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗌. 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝘆 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱. 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 ♡
𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: this took me forever to finish.. sorry hehe ! but its finally here ~ i got an ask that gave me the idea and i had realized i dont have any dead dove for our ruru, sooo i made it a bigger fic (by big i mean over 10k words oopsies (๑>•̀๑) i loved writing this tho aaaaa i dont tend to write harua as submissive, i see him more of being a bratty dom—i dont really write any of &team as inherently / extremely submissive,, some just tend to have submissive traits (taki is a good example) ,, i also like to think most "feminine" idols become very different in bed~~ anyway !! i hope u all enjoy this.. i'll also probably be posting fics at a much slower pace than before ! quality or quantity plus trying to focus on not let myself get as burned out as i have right now from pumping out stuff so rapidly hehe
titsay
kaledo-art
tangentwithtanner
pixelskylines
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
