Hakari that hate, hate, HATES how present you are in HIS girlfriend's life. Like if he knew any better, he'd assume you two were sharing her and that definitely not the case because he'd rather lose all his money than be connected to you in any way even indirectly. The only props he can give you is that you don't drink up all his booze. He doesn't know its because you think only bums drink all day.
"Rara," you pout, he'd also (never) admit that you had a pretty cute face, "can we go shooooooping, its so boooring here."
Kirara was never one to disappoint her best friend, you had her wrapped around your finger, probably in more ways than one. That didn't make Hakari mad, no, what made him mad was the way you'd spend his money and only thank Kirara. Again, two girlfriends with only half the benefits, he didn't want to fuck you per say, that was a lie, but maybe you could wipe that satisfied grin off your face. Maybe he should be the one to do it. Who knew that he was the impulsive type?
He sucks his teeth whenever you push through the door, he'd hope it was Kirara, but she was busier than usual today. Your reaction wasn't too different, groaning and throwing your head back dramatically at the realization that it's just him there. He just sucked in your opinion and he definitely didn't deserve Rara, the only positive to him was that he had money. Were you stoll bitter that he called you a loser? Well, yeah, it was rich coming from him!
"Fuckin' great, way to ruin my day with your ugly mug," You chide before huffing to take the seat furthest from him, "thought for once, you wouldn't be here."
There's bewilderment on his face, "Eh?! What are you on about? Its my club!?"
You roll your eyes, if there was one thing you were capable of doing, it was pissing him off. He wanted to blame Kirara, she had to have told you what really got under his skin, but maybe you were just a natural. You didn't act this whenever she was around, you were more pliant, cute even.
A heavy silence falls between you two, he's caught up in watching the screens and well, you're bored. And nothing fixes boredom like bothering one of the people that annoys the most. You could get him so pissed off at you that he yelled then you could cry and make him feel bad, maybe he'd even give you his card. Kirara had it saved to her phone and let you use it whenever you felt like it, but that wasn't enough.
"I can see why Rara likes to spend time with me more," you say it plainly, you're scrolling through shops on your phone, "especially if this is all you do all day."
"Leave then," there's an edge to his voice, but he takes a breath, "I don't want her precious Bunny to die of boredom then I'd have to find her a new pet to play with."
You laugh, there's no humor in it, "She wouldn't need a pet if you took better care of her, but don't worry, I make sure she's never lonely."
Your tone is smooth, teasing. He could pick you up and put you outside to wait on the curb, that was always an option, but that meant touching you. Fuck that. His lip twitches as he fights back a sneer as he looks at you, you've gone back to focusing on your phone and unphased by the tension you've created. You've gotten comfortable, tucking your legs beneath you. Your loose shirt hangs off your shoulder, exposing a thin black strap and those damn shorts hug your think upper thighs. Even looking at you pisses him off.
"Oh my god, are you staring at my ass," You caught him and his eyes snap up to yours before going back to his screens, "what, you want to fuck me now? Getting whiplash from you, pervert."
"Fuck you? I wouldn't fuck you if it meant Kirara came by proxy, freak."
You're quick, he'll give you that, he didn't expect that you'd take the liberty of crawling across the couch nor did he think in a million years that you'd willingly straddle his lap. Its jarring, having you so close to him. You don't smell sweet like candy like Kirara, you smell sweet in the way that makes him nauseous, too damn good for someone as rotten as you. He doesn't touch you, digging his fingertips into the arm rest and cushion beneath, but you press down onto him and brush your thumb over his jawline. Your smile is wicked, he's getting hard beneath you and you know he hates himself for it.
"I guess that's the difference between us, Kin-Chan," you whisper into his ear, there's that smooth fucking voice again, it's gives him goosebumps, "I would let you do whatever you want to me as long as it keeps Rara happy."
How would you feel about breaking a nail after getting them done? How about spilling something on your brand new Coach bag? All three thoughts made your stomach churn. Sick, they made you feel sick. Was this entire beef childish, of course it was, but you learned that you didn't need to necessarily like your best friend's boyfriend to be around him. You bite back the exaggerated expression to Kirara's question, instead putting your focus on the lingerie racks.
"Why are you asking me weird things?" You avoid the question, suddenly this shopping spree was feeling less spontaneous.
Kirara hums, if you weren't going to answer then she wouldn't either. You watch her hold a set to her body, its a purple bra and panty set, two flowers cover where her nipples would go and one over the crotch. It's cute, too good for Hakari, you don't even know whether he'd appreciate it or if he'd just rip it off. You shake your head to her choice and point to a pink teddy. Its a lace piece with a deep V cut that would stop at her navel and decorative frills that layer at the hips. Her face lights up at your choice, its unsurprising that you'd be the one to pick out what looks best on her for her birthday.
"Can we get matching sets?" There's a twinkle in her eyes, they're soft, plotting and pleading, "I'll buy you whatever you want if you do! Pretty please!"
"Fine! Fine! I want lunch and a new purse," you fold quickly, "you're lucky I wanted the black one."
You knew the reason for everything, Kirara wasn't as cunning as she thought herself to be. It started with small, pointed comments; 'Kin-chan, doesn't she look so pretty today?' or 'she likes it when you kiss here and here' as she pressed her lips to your neck then ear. You wondered if it was obvious to Hakari, why would it be, you remembered how he eyed you in disgust then looked away. Shit, he probably knew more than you did.
You skim your fingers over the two pieces, "I'd kiss Hakari if I get to kiss you afterwards," your tone is coy, "your turn."
"Well," Her smile is devious as she taps her finger against the center of her bottom lip, "and I need you to hear me out before you say no."
You were weak to Kirara, stuck pining after her since she had been with Hakari longer than you had known her. Honestly, you had been planning on ruining their relationship, but after meeting Hakari, you realized that the idea wasn’t necessary. Like you, he wanted Kirara to be happy and there was seemingly no limit to how far he'd go to make sure that happened. Key word being seemingly because it became very obvious that he hated you and would deny Kirara from that form of joy. That's why you were so smug now, standing in Hakari's bedroom in the matching lingerie.
The lights are dim, even the wall to ceiling windows that overlook Tokyo don't help the soft glow. Its a large difference from the small room in Tochigi, it's clear that Kirara decorated.
"Doesn't she look so yummy?"
Hakari forces air from his nose, he's splayed comfortably in the center of his large bed, "You both do."
"Careful," You tease as you move the hair away from Kirara's jaw to place your lips to her jaw, "almost sounds like you're complimenting me, Hakari."
This was her birthday wish, a night with both of her favorite people, "I'll be doing a lot more than that, don't worry."
Kirara smiles, you can feel her reaction whereas you freeze. Its a difference, unlike you, he doesn't show his desire openly. Not that you're chronically horny, but you were constantly hands on with Kirara. Now that you think about it, you've never seen him show affection towards his girlfriend whenever you're there – if you're not beneath her. There's a knowing grin on his face, he's reading you annoyingly easy for a man that stupid.
Kirara leaves your hold, climbing onto the bed beside her boyfriend. She tucks herself into his side, her manicured nails trailing up the side of his neck. He lifts his chin which allows her to follow the entire length although his eyes never leave yours. His large hand cups her bare ass and his other taps the bed, expectantly. You look to Kirara and she only turns her head in curiosity. Usually, you're so headstrong and it's clear you're stunned. Uncharacteristically quiet.
"Aw," She pouts, "look, you scared her already, Kin-chan," her smile starts to break through.
That flips a switch in you, pulling you from your shell that you'd unknowingly enclosed yourself in. You follow Kirara's actions, crawling onto the bed from the edge of the bed and stopping at Hakari's feet. His thin eyebrow quirks upwards, questioning if you have the guts to do what he thinks you're about to. The soft hum of music plays from the speakers, an American R&B artist that had become popular overseas for his soft melodies and voice. You brazenly move over top of him and then don't hesitate in straddling his lap. Kirara kisses the spot behind his ear, it makes him groan out and grip the fat of her cheek. Still, he keeps his eyes locked on yours, smiling at the grimace on your lips. He's hard beneath you and you can't tell if he's rocking himself up against you teasingly or in reaction to Kirara.
"Don't look so scared to me anymore," Hakari laughs, its breathless, but he hides it by biting at Kirara's earlobe.
You swallow, watching his hand move from Kirara's waist to the side of her chest, his thick thumb swipes over her hardened nipple beneath the lace, "Never was."
"That so?"
True to your words, you don't freeze or flinch at his touch. It's a testing touch that becomes more confident as he moves his hand from your thigh and up your waist. You lean into his warmth, the entirety of his palm now resting ontop your chest. He begins kissing Kirara, its passionate as he easily slips his tongue into her mouth. Its the same thing you've done hundreds of times, although you don't feel jealous watching this time. Too caught in the way she bites his bottom lip, you only realize the weight of his fingers pressing into the sides of your neck whenever your head begins feeling light. He loosens his grip although his hand doesn't move. Your heart pulses wildly between your thighs and you think he can feel it.
You can feel his, especially with the way he grinds upwards against you. Its weak friction at the most. Annoying. Taunting. The lace of your crotch is soaked already, but you feel like spectating is worth this torture. Kirara is the one to pity you, she's always been so much softer with you than her boyfriend. She doesn't break the kiss with Hakari whenever she presses the tips of her fingers between where you and Hakari touch.
"Oh, she's so wet for you, Kin-chan," She sighs dreamily, turning her head to look at you.
Hakari continues to kiss her cheek, only stopping whenever some blood returns to his brain, "For us, baby," He corrects.
You open your mouth to interject, but Kirara presses her fingers further between you two and against your clit. Hakari's heard you moan before, but he's never heard one as salacious as the one you let out. There's a tension in his jaw, clenching tight as he watches how your eyebrows press close towards each other then soften all too quickly. He can feel her knuckles and the small circles her fingers make against his cock. You hump against her touch and your eyes flutter shut, blocking out the heaviness of their shares gaze. There's a hiss that you recognize, Hakari has his head dipped back whenever you open your eyes again.
"Fuck," He gripes, "kiss Kira already."
It's obviously directed at you, but you're as paralyzed as him, if not more, so Kirara is the one to lean forward. She removes her hand completely, leaving you to buck your hips to continue chasing the feeling. The hand that hadn't been between your thighs pulls you in to meet her halfway and you taste the faintest hint of whiskey on her tongue as she works it inbetween your lips. Hakari takes the hand that had been playing with your clit and brings them to his lips. He sucks each individual finger clean of your wetness until spit drips from the three digits.
"Ra'–" She bites your bottom lip as she had done with him, but that's not what takes you by surprise and shuts you up.
The fingers that had been in Hakari's mouth are pressed into yours as soon as she lets go of your lip. Her three fingers have a heavier taste of alcohol although you can't focus on the taste with the she presses down on your tongue. You wrap your lips around her fingers, flicking your tongue against the pads. She gives a testing thrust, an attempt to see how soon you'd gag or if you would at all. You don't.
"Hakari's spit tastes good, huh?" She smiles at the glaze in your eyes, "it was basically like you two kissed."
Hakari laughs, its full of satisfaction, "I mean, I've already tasted your cunt, what's a little kiss?"
Kirara removes her fingers almost expectantly and it feels like its been hours since you've spoken, "Just one," Saliva trails down your chin as you swallow thickly.
Hakari and Kirara share a knowing look before he speaks, "Yeah, sure, just one."
dark themes; noncon/dubcon, breeding, prey/predator, very forceful
2k words – 7ish-8 minutes
You're the doe he always sees, feet wading through the crystalline creek in his backyard. Skittish. Cautious. But you have to be whenever you're trespassing onto someone else's property. Or maybe you're looking out for predators, you don't do a good job since you're so predictable. He watches as you press further each day, getting closer to his home. There's a perimeter that he's set, a line that he deems as uncrossable.Toji hopes to whatever Gods there may be that you pass that threshold.
You should've been more careful, too ignorantly entranced with the fading of the summer plants. Maybe then you would've seen him stalking through the dying weeds. Eyes keen on an easy meal, not that he had trouble feeding himself, what was another body ontop of a mountain of corpses? There's a snap in a branch beneath his foot and you still, worried eyes searching your surroundings. The forest is silent, all creatures waiting with held breaths. But you have to be smarter to survive, immediately running. It's too late.
The hem of your dress is gripped tightly in your palm while the other shields your face from oncoming branches. He knows the forest like the back of his hand, each possibility already accounted for. He'd been watching you for so long. You don't see him, but you hear his rapid, yet thunderous steps. Your heart is in your throat as you pray that you don't trip and fall. He thinks it's adorable how disoriented you are, there's only mere seconds for you to make your choices. Each one wrong and worse than the last.
"Ah, ah, ah," His voice is deep, horrifying as he herds you to a cliff face, "Quick lil' thing, aren't ya'?"
There's only one way out and its pass the rabid man, something you'd not dare to even attempt. Your chest is heaving and believe that he takes note of it. You no energy left in you even if you could manage to get by him. The man is gigantic, yet you knew he could've easily outran you by the way he was constantly at your heels. Gray streaks littered his hair, showing his older age while his dark, sunken eyes showed that he had little mercy to spare.
"Ple–..I'm s‐sorry," This was the first time you'd ever faced true, absolute danger, "I want to go home."
The scar on his lips part and you see the sharpness of his canines, "Poor thing," He pouts, mockingly, "bet you don't even know where home is."
He's moving closer, his steps are slow and methodical. You flinch with each one, trying to press yourself against the jagged stone. It's scrapping the skin on your bare back, but that pain is preferred to whatever he had planned. It's quick, he closes the distance between you and him. His heavy hand is holding your chin, turning your head to the side. You can't move, your body isn't listening to you and instead just trembles in his hold.
"Can feel how fast your little heart is beating," He's whispering it into your pulse point, his other hand is keeping you boxed between him and the cliff, "Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump." His words align with the rapid beat of your heart.
They warned you to not explore on your own, to not visit places you weren't familiar with without a guide. 'There's a big, bad wolf that's been attacking, make sure you always have a buddy', you scoffed at the notion.
"Please–," Your sob is cut short by a nip at your throat, the flat of his front teeth still nearly drawing blood, "My f-family–."
"Hm, offering them up in your place? Cruel of you, wanting me to pillage on your behalf, but if that's what you want."
His words are twisted, disgustingly so. Instead of the relief you should feel at him releasing you, there's horror that sits deep in your guts. There's a sadistic smile on his lips as he turns away, getting ready to tear your village apart. He knows where you live, it's an unspoken agreement to stay away from one another. You've broken it and damned everyone, their blood on your delicate hands.
Unstable legs push you further after him, "No! Wait, just take me," your voice is as shaky as your body, "Leave them alone, please."
Toji is heinous, there's no hesitation in his movements as he predicts your objection. His large hand is around your throat, your own holding onto his wrist. You don't even think your feet are touching the ground anymore. The feeling of weightlessness is short-lived as you're slammed to the ground with the full force that he has to offer. Air is knocked from your lungs, the view of the twilight sky is replaced by a merciless Toji. A hand keeps you stationary while the other follows the length of your leg.
"Say it," He isn't choking you, just keeping you anchored, "Say how much you want it."
You feel his hand reach the inner apex of your thighs and you instinctively squeeze them close, "I–I want it...it so b–bad, Mister."
Your once white dress is stained by the wet earth beneath you and pulled up at your waist to expose the thin cotton beneath. The dark hairs are barely contained by the flower-printed fabric. There's still tears in your pretty, wide eyes. Fear and recognition. There's a barbaric groan that rumbles in his chest after your words. He's a brute. It's still hard to breathe even worse whenever he presses a majority of his body weight onto you, his clothed bulge grinds roughly against your underwear. He's big, in every sense of the word.
"It–" You're breathless, "You're hurting me."
He rubs his face onto yours, the prickle of his beard feels grating against your skin, "Fuck, aw, am I now, sweetheart?"
You nod, he sounds genuine, if you ignore his grunts of pleasure, "Yes, Mister."
"Gonna hurt a lot more when it's inside you, don't worry."
It's the first time your body has reacted, not mentioning the wet spot he was illiciting from your cunt, but you begin thrashing beneath him. There's no plan aside from not being broken like a toy. Surprisingly, he relents, but its momentary as he just wants you to scurry over onto your knees to crawl away. His hands are on your waist, stopping you from getting any further and before you know it, his palm is pressing your head down. Your face is met with cold, hardened mud, followed by your back being pressed down into the deepest arch you can manage.
There's stillness behind you, if he didn't have a large hand on your head, you'd have thought he left. But then there's finally movements and it comes as him peeling your underwear down. It's almost embarrassing being exposed like this, a stranger staring at your pussy. You flinch violently whenever the wetness of his tongue dampens the tangle of hair, from your clit to your puckered hole. As much as he wants to hold you head down, he lets go to grip the globes of your ass to spread them. Sex borders on ritualistic in your village, foreplay and even roughness are taboo. Maybe that was what caused the deprived moan to slip pass your lips.
He's vulgar, spitting loudly onto your asshole to watch it trail down your cunt, "Bet you fucking love this, huh?"
There's a tremble in your denial, your nails digging into the dirt. He laps up the spit, stopping it at your clit and licking upwards until he reaches your throbbing hole. His tongue is wide, but he pressed it into your cunt, earning a prolonged clenching around it. You're so easy and your body responds so well to him, fuck, he's imagining knocking you up. His tongue waves inside of you, while he finally takes hold of his neglected cock. It's been years since he's gotten this hard, already ready to waste one of many loads. His chin rubs against your clit, the coarse hair causing your body to pull away. He just follows, darting his tongue in and out while his hand matches the pace.
His nose nestles between you cheeks, inhaling the smell of your sweat, his spit and your wetness. More delicious than any berry. He has his fill before moving down to your clit, leaving slobber in his wake. His mouth latches around your clit and for the first time ever, you see stars. It scares you, the way your body convulses, but your cries are no longer of fear but ecstasy. You're smearing your juices onto his face each time you press back, silently begging him for more. Fuck, you're so eager now. It's almost laughable that you two cum at the same time, you onto his face and him into the underwear stretched between your thighs.
His face is drenched, but you can't see it, you're on the verge of unconsciousness and high on the feeling, "That's what I like to fuckin' see," He sounds breathless this time, "Best pussy I've had in decades."
His praise falls on numbed ears, they tingle at his words. It's like there's cotton in them, but you don't need your sense of hearing to feel the thick tip of his cock. It isn't as hard as it was, you should thank him for that, but there's still resistance as he lines himself with your sensitive hole. Your juices web on his fingertips as he guides himself inside of you. You were right, it does feel like your nothing more than a toy for him to mould. No, you weren't exactly a virgin, you've had fingers, yours and others and makeshift toys, but there was no comparison.
He's several inches buried within the tightness of your cunt and once again your clawing at the grass around you for leverage to get away, "Stop movin', fuckin' stop!" His grip becomes firm around your waist and his tone lingers on dangerous, "Gonna' make me cum or is that what you want huh? Me filling up this tight pussy with my litter?"
From Toji's view, your cunt has a vice grip on him. You've stretched plenty, accommodating his thickness heavily as he pulls the tip of his cock out only to ease it right back in along with several more inches. Your cunt is weeping, coating him in a milky sheen. He's already cum inside you, he lasted all but a few seconds, but it doesn't stop him from fucking his fertile cum in deeper. It seeps out, layering your own cum.
There's now drool pooling onto the mud where your cheek rests, there's not a single thought behind those once terrified eyes. He prods against your cervix, almost as if it were a door he was knocking on. To himself, he clicks his tongue in disappointment, staring at the remaining bit of cock that had yet to feel your silken insides. You could take more, right? He shifts from kneeling behind you to a deep squat, pulling your hips fully against his own waist. It felt as if he was in your womb, getting as deep as possible to deposit his litter into you. Its repeatedly, him using you as nothing more than a hole. The slapping skin sticky and wet.
"Gonna have my pup, pretty girl." He isn't asking, it's a fact like there's stars in the sky and water in the lake, "Gonna keep fucking you until you do."
It's strained, your moans. He has to tap his palm against your cheek to make sure you're still with him. There's a wet sensation again, the same as whenever he spit on your hole the first time, but you're met with the prodding of his thumb into your ass. It hurts, but you tighten so desperately around his cock. His head falls back, watching the night sky as his own white, hot dots fill his vision. His free hand is entangled in your hair, lifting your limp head from the ground. It's momentary, but it allows him to angle deeper, exactly to depth that he plans to cum.
There's a stutter in his painful thrusts, "Fuckin' take it, take it all. Better give me some perfect pups."
He's still moving, but its slower. A tempo that brings you to your last orgasm, he's made you cum countless times, but this time you squirt into the cum that he soiled your underwear with. Your hole is gaped, clenching around air as he pulls himself free. He admires the cum that leaks out like its an artist's signature. You don't move from the position you're in, allowing him to pull up the soaked material of your underwear. He's back to his feet, tucking his softened cock back into his pants.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of you and the brats, you know where to find me."
There's a grin on his lips as he whistles his tune, strolling away from his damsel in distress.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, keep your eyes open, please, Katsuki is going to kill me."
There isn't any pain, in fact, there's a numbness that encases your body. You'd be pissed if anyone got in trouble for your stupid fuck up – especially since you knew you weren't meant for combat, but you took a hit meant for your downed teammate. Kirishima had rescued you after his team showed up as support, pressing down on the wound at your side in an attempt to stave off the bleeding. Adrenaline attempts to quicken your slowing heart, you're dying in Kirishima's arms. God, you are going to die in his arm.
You try speaking, but you choke on the blood that fills your lungs, coating your suit at your cough, "Oh fuck," Its obvious that this isn't something you'd be coming back from, "try not to talk, please."
He's no longer walking, setting you down in an empty alleyway. There's a distant crash, the fight still ongoing while you teeter dangerously between life and death. Kirishima drops down besides you, repositioning your head onto his lap. You feel awful, there's no bravado and no goofy grin on his face – you know it's going to take a while before he's able to find his smile again. He wipes away blood that's splattered across your cheek, blinking away his own tears. You watch him, eyes tired and body chilling as his lips moved frantically although sound seems unable to reach you. Nothing seems to reach you as your eyes finally close
You would've said it was serendipitous – the rain at your funeral, somehow you'd have found a reason to be happy despite the dreary mood of the day. Bakugo would say the opposite, that the city itself is mourning. That his tears are justified for today and today only. He stays at the cemetery hours after the burial, only heading home whenever Kirishima lifts him from his knees.
cw; smut, Leon cheats on reader, oral and fingering
"Mr. Kennedy, how nice of you to stop by. Again."
You knew the game that the two of you were playing; pretending that your organization was reputable and nothing like the disaster that was Umbrella. On paper, Polaris is just another pharmaceutical company – research is what your floor managed and you were head of development. It made sense why the DSO kept a close eye on you, the madwoman always step away from causing another Raccoon City. You knew the story even if they buried it, the T-Virus was a technical success as was Umbrella, so you learned from their mistakes.
There's no greeting that he offers back, instead looking you over from head to toe. The heels were a dead give away, you were far too dressed up to do lab work – you were tipped off. Your white button down is undone down to your cleavage and your skirt is short than what would be professional dress code. He's well aware of what you're doing, but he can't help the way his eyes drop to the curve of your skirt whenever you walk away. Nearly fifty years old and still going dumb at the sight of a little ass, worse of all it being yours.
"So you see Mr. Kennedy, we're still doing everything by the book, same as last time you look up came," you direct his focus to the active labs.
There's impenetrable containers in the bare white rooms, clear and each housing a single person. It was right that you learned from Umbrella, no one could get mad at a willing participant and who were more willing than those that were terminally ill? The promise of a large lump sum to their families after their passing were enough to fill seats and the mention of helping save the future was just the cherry on top.
"Cut the bull," Leon folds his arms over his chest and you tilt your head in confusion, "got a tip that you're working a b.o.w."
You roll your eyes, unlocking the door to your office, "So you follow up on every little whistle that gets blown huh? You're here so much that a girl might get the wrong idea," He steps in like he's done so many times before and you shut the door behind him.
The room smells of your perfume, amber and spices. Its the same smell he could never wash out his sheets or pillowcases, so he just bought new ones. Plants that once were probably beautiful rot in their pots in piles of mush and blackened stems. There's no windows in your office, instead surgical, white led lights illuminate the shelves behind you. Each cubby has a three ringed binder with a name on it, some look older than the others, but none are familiar names to Leon.
"How about you cut the shit, Leon? Hm, bothering your poor ex wife, don't you think you've put me through enough?" You fan your eyes dramatically, waiting for the tears to come – they never do, "the lonely nights where I didn't know if you'd come back to me alive or in a body bag and not to mention the calls from the damsels you'd save, pft, right, if saving meant knocking them up."
You let him go through his midlife crisis, encouraging him to buy those luxury cars or expensive watches and having his flings on the side because you were naive. That's not to say you were innocent, but you assumed letting him get it out his system was smarter than fighting against it. How fucking dumb of you.
"Listen, I didn't come here to fight with you, I came to make sure nothing shady was going on," it makes you happy to see how exhausted he is and how hardened he's become.
You lean back into your seat, swiveling it to the side as you exhale your satisfaction, "You know what, this might be the most we've probably seen each other since we got married, isn't that funny?"
He watches how you stand back up, moving to the front of your desk. You could never stay still for long, too many secrets and thoughts swirling around that brain of yours. He hated how you'd just pace and pace and pace. If he knew what he knew now, he'd never have put a ring on your finger. He didn't hate you, but it was dangerously close to it. You pull yourself onto the edge of your desk with a smooth motion, although the paperwork on your desk scatters.
Leon pinches the bridge of his nose, "You're wasting my time."
He moves to stand up, but the heel of your shoe pushes against his chest to put him back into the seat, "Oh, I'm wasting your time? Try wasting four years on a man that loathes you."
You expect him to brush aside your foot and to leave you again. This was what you did, made him feel bad for things that you didn’t even care about, torturing him until he scurried out of your life for another year. But his grip on your ankle lingered, refusing to let go until he stood. And it seemed the only reason he let go was to grab onto the fat of your thigh, pulling your leg away from the other to fit himself inbetween them. Disgust, that's the look you have on your face, something other than that smug smirk, finally.
"What the fuck are you doing, Leon?"
His large hand took hold of your cheeks, puckering your lips involuntarily, "I'm so fucking tired of this place, of the shit you have going on here, but most of all I'm tired of you, wife. Did I turn you into this heartless monster? Tell me its my fault and I'll do whatever I can to make it better. To fix it."
Your eyes move frantically, they move from the door to his eyes, down to his lips then back to his eyes, "You know the answer."
The dim lighting hides the tears that build in your eyes, but both of his grips soften nonetheless. Your breath hitches whenever he leans in cautiously, the first kiss he's given you in years and it feels as gentle as the very first one. He's made you crumble so quickly. Why couldn't you hate him like you wanted to? He pulls away, keeping his eyes closed as he savored the moment. Its been so long since he touched his wife.
"I'm sorry," He finally opens his eyes, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, you never deserved this, you used to be so good."
"I...I think you should–...Leon, what are you doing?!"
You were going to tell him to leave, to forget about anything that had just happened and that you'd send over any paperwork that interested the DSO, but you stopped after watching him drop to his knees. His hands caress your calves, the calluses on his palms catch against the delicate fabric of your stockings. He's weathered, but the kindness in his eyes hasn't, not even towards you. A shaky breath fills the air, it's yours. You squeeze your eyes close in tandem of feeling his lips pressed against the fabric on your thighs.
"Do you remember how good you used to be for me?"
You swallow, "Leon, not her–"
"I asked a question, do you remember?" His tone is calm, the scruff of his beard pokes through the sheer fabric.
"Yes."
"Tell me how I fucked it all up, how I ruined us."
His lips finally touch the bare skin of your thighs, your skin is cold. Leon wonders if this is just how you feel now, you used to run so hot beneath his touch. He looks up to your eyes, watching your expression as he angles your thigh over his shoulder. You brace your palms behind you on the desk, tilting your head up to the ceiling. It's torturous, he used to do this to you whenever you got particularly pissy towards him. Teasing you until you'd have nothing to do, but beg him to touch you, to taste you.
"I was never a priority to you," it comes out a sigh, you know that's what he's waiting for, "You just needed some poor girl to leave your money to if you ever died. God, ah!"
The flat of his tongue moves over the lace crotch of your underwear then again and again until there's a thin layer of his spit coating it. You knew why you had to share your husband so often, you told yourself over a hundred times that you weren't mad about it. He starts to suck at the area he had been licking, drinking down a mixture of his saliva and your juices. Leon can't properly grip your clit through your panties, but you can feel the vibrations of him trying. He's loud and uncaring, like this isn't the place you built from the ground up. Your magnum opus. And he just comes prancing in to remind you that you still had feelings. Your ringed hand moves to his hair, gripping it and pushing his face deeper into your wet heat. You hope he drowns.
"That stupid fucking job of yours," you moan, "So I thought maybe– oh fuck, Leon – just maybe, that if I spoke a language you understood, you'd see me. Danger, espionage, whatever."
Leon doesn't pause as you continue on, instead hooking his finger around your underwear to pull them to the side. He kisses your clit delicately, something that forces a shiver through your body. You try to ignore his scruff scratching your skin as he delves deeper, but it feels sickeningly nostalgic. Two of his fingers press into you, going down to his knuckle immediately. Your hips buck upwards, smearing your wetness over his nose.
"I gave you fucking everything," you're panting out, nearly whining, "you fucking bastard. But it wasn’t enough, huh? I wasn't enough."
He lets you hump against his face, licking away the wetness that leaks over his palm while you bump your clit over his nose. He curls his fingers upwards repeatedly and slowly. You're so wet, he'd lick your desk clean if you told him to. He'd stop right there if you told him to and leave from your life forever, but he'd never divorce you or give you satisfaction of getting one. And he'd never let you think any of the bullshit he did was your fault.
He stands, but his fingers stay buried within you. It takes you by surprise, although you can't react properly because he speeds the curl of his fingers. Leon pulls your head against his chest and you heart the quickened pace of his heart. He rubs his hand over the back of your head as gets you closer to cumming. Its soothing and before you know it, you're crying. Maybe its from how long its been since you've felt this good or maybe its the emotional release. Your body shakes from the sobs and the orgasm that gradually overtakes you.
"You've always been enough. Way more than I've ever deserved, I'm sorry. I can't imagine how lonely you've been." He whispers into the top of your trembling head, "You can hate me all you want, but never ever hate yourself for once loving me."
Your fingers bury into his shirt. The door to your office opens, no one can see you outside of the way your body shakes in his hold. Your security detail had heard your loud cries. Leon places another kiss your temple before he looks over his shoulder.
"Something came up, so I'll be taking my wife home."
Konig, I like when people characterize him as the big, sopping wet puppy. Pathetic and needy.
What if I say, he is all that, but he's doing it purposely. Playing you like a fiddle.
He ignores boundaries, it's under the guise of a man that gets too excited, too pushy. There's a discomfort in the way he tells you of your own accomplishments or tells you that he found some of your old pictures from college, but he's eager to soothe your dislike with the lesson that there's always someone worse than him.
You met him in a random chat room, his profile blank while yours held a woodsy background. There's a language barrier, but you just copy and paste to google translate. He tells you its cute that you don't just ask him what they mean, even says he can already tell you're beautiful. You don't know how he knows your gender, he tells you he already knows most of your life and how shitty your VPN is.
He's just trying to protect you, he's not a bad man, but he knows how bad men work.
He asks for your number, it'll be easier for him to contact you this way since sometimes he can't be on a computer due to work. He doesn't tell you what he does for work and tells you to not ask again, you don't. You stop responding, he asks a lot more questions than he answers, he makes you feel uneasy, but the attention feels good.
It's the next day whenever you fold beneath your curiosity, the first message says your name. He tells you its a beautiful name, he wonders how beautiful you are now since youve stopped posting to social media. The following one is a pet name he gives you, you assume he means it endearingly, but it feels demeaning. Him picking you up by the scruff of your neck, all claws and teeth, only for him to call you cute. The final text is a picture, it's dark, but you see him. The outline of his broad body and the chilling stare of where you place his eyes.
You wish you hadn't alienated yourself from your friends and family on some silly whim, you wish you had someone to tell you to change your locks and get a new phone number. But you were alone. That's why you responded, joking about what a big guy he was. He jokes back how easy it would be to lift you, to break you. He means he's great at giving tight hugs. It makes your heart race.
He practically begs for a picture of you, calling you that nickname. The more he says it, the more pliant you become, almost smiling each time you read it. He tells you that it's only right that he be the one to judge whenever you answer that you don't have any meetings today so you aren't dolled up. Best case scenario, he tells you that you're average and worst case, he ghosts you. You catch your best angle and send the picture before you can scrutinize it further.
It's been a week since you sent the picture. He's disappeared before but it only lasted a day or two. You sit around your house, phone flipped downward to avoid seeing the screen, ignoring the message alerts only to be disappointed by spam. It's three am on day eight whenever you get the notification, there's a knowing feeling in the pit of your stomach whenever you roll over to search for your phone.
He curses at whatever Gods will humor him, his German translating into anger that he's gone a week without seeing your beautiful face. You smile sleepily, getting the bright idea of sending him another one. Call it desperation or infatuation, but you were growing fond of the man. Bubble appear and disappear several times until it ultimately stops. You look so tired in the picture, you had held the camera at arms length, giving him the perfect imitation of hovering over you.
You don't expect the picture back, its not like your conversations had ever been sexual, they stayed at flirty, with some innuendos at the worst. There's more light than the first picture, but not by much, you see more details, ones that you'd never been curious of before. The cracked mirror shows you skin, slight definition as you trail down to see where his hand is resting. He wasn’t wrong about breaking you. Darkness obscures his face this time too. He blames you, saying that you do this to him, he needs you to fix it.
He'd die if he saw the way you bit your lip as you thought up a response. You want to say something teasing back, to show him that you aren't bothered by it, but you don't. You succumb easily, walking right into the den. Shamelessly, you send him an equally risqué picture. That's the first time you sext him.
You wake up late the next day, realization of what you willingly did at his command hits you. The shower washes away the embarrassment, you're both adults, who cares. You still don't check your phone until lunch, he teases you with a message about him being told much for the beautiful lady, that's specifically in German, poking fun at your lack of stamina for someone of your age. He says it like he's older than you, you've forgotten that he knows everything about you and you still know nothing. So you ask if he's older than you. He is, by several years, eight to be exact.
He asks if you've ever been with an older man, he's not surprised at your answer. He pokes fun. He delves into your dating life like a natural transition, unassuming enough that you don't hesitate with your answers. He's sure you'd give him their names if he asked. It feels like progress when he tells you he's dated, but hasn't has anything serious in a long time. Even says he wants something serious with you. You laugh it off.
You still remember that stupid day, the day Toji moved in next to you. Worst day of your life, but he only had a small part in it. Your vibe had broke the night before right as you were using it, you broke one of your freshly done nails and lets not forget you found out your sister was dating your ex. It was hit after hit.
And then you got home, there was the moving truck, blocking half of the entire parking lot. Of course you'd have to park further away, why not? It was a culmination of things – sexual frustration, betrayal and anger because it was so damn hot out, maybe that's why you snapped so easily at him, not even facing the stranger as they introduced themselves.
"Hey neighbor," if you weren't so pissed, you'd have appreciated the depth of his voice and the satisfaction that seemed to lace it.
You drop your keys just as you're about to press it into the lock, "What the actual fuck," its a quiet groan, "Hi, think you'll be done by ten? I want to move my car back so I don't have to walk halfway across the country to get to it," you sound bitchy and instantly you feel horrified, "I'm so, so sorry, my sister is fucking my ex and–"
You've turned around finally to face him and god, you wished you had the power to stop time just so you can fully drink him in. He's huge, the type of bulk and height that makes it impossible to never not be in your personal space. The man is shirtless, beads of sweat catching your eyes and you follow them down, down like heat seeking missiles going to the trail of hair that disappears beneath his sweats. Its five seconds at the most, maybe less, that your eyes are not on his, but he smiles cockily like he's caught you with a hand in the cookie jar.
The scar on his lip moves and you realize his talking to you, "I'm sorry, what?"
"I said for you, doll, I'll be done before eight," He picks his box back up and walks off, proudly flexing the muscles in his back.
He didn't finish moving until the next day, leaving his giant moving truck then only moved it as you were leaving for work. What a dickhead.
You didn't learn his name until two days later when you both were getting your mail and you genuinely apologized, he laughed and called it cute. You also found out he was an old man with a son, but they didn't have the best relationship and decided to let his son choose. It was a heavy conversation for the second meeting and you joked that this was at least third meeting convo.
He's an awful neighbor and you hate him, it only took two years. Its always some annoying thing he's doing, his top favorite seems to be fucking his date as loudly as possible. You're happy for him, glad he's getting laid whereas you can't or don't want to, but the walls aren't thin. The previous family that had lived there moved in with a newborn baby and you never heard a sound.
And if it isn't being a noise disturbance, its getting his sketchy packages that are always left in front of your door. Maybe the delivery driver had seen you before and just assumed without checking, but it's been nearly once every week for the last eight months. And of course your schedules conflict – you're home, he's not or you're asleep and he's annoying the fuck out of you with a creaking headboard and squeaky springs. He doesn't acknowledge your notes, you doubt he even reads them at this point, but you refuse to file a complaint because you're too weak to his bullshit apologies and the cheap dates he always takes you on afterwards.
It comes to a head whenever you come home to a box sitting outside your door, its familiar and you instantly kick it over to his door. The most recent number he'd given you had been dropped, he changes them so frequently you'd once suspected he was some criminal. Even the social media you'd been given was unused. You sit down dramatically onto your couch, sinking into the plush cushions. Maybe he had a newer link to his account, you scroll to find his defunct account. You roll your eyes at the profile picture, him holding his shirt up between his teeth.
"𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 → @𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦.𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐲 "
You definitely hadn't realized it was link until you clicked it, taking you directly to his Fansly. His pictures don't load since you aren't subscribed, but you are able to send him a message since your account is a creator's account like his. The videos on yours were three years old, you'd stop using it whenever you'd met your last boyfriend – now your sister's husband.
bnnygrl224: Hey, it's your neighbor.
tojisbedroom: bullshit
bnnygrl224: No, I'm being so serious, Toji.
Your phone dings, a notification from your bank that you'd just received twelve dollars lingers over the website.
bnnygrl224: 🧍🏽♀️Did you just... Don't watch any of those?!?
tojisbedroom: fuck doll, u telling me u been holding out on me for this long? think of how easy it'll be for us to fuck
You bite your lip, of course he's flirted with you before, but you also think he's flirted with half of Japan too. It wasn’t something that made you feel overly important or special, you just see it as apart of his personality.
bnnygrl224: Down boy, I'm not that easy to get.
tojisbedroom: that a challenge? 👀
bnnygrl224: OMG! This is going off the rails, look, I'm messaging you on here bc your number doesn't work, you're never home and you obviously don't read my notes.
bnnygrl224: But your packages are still showing up at my door...
tojisbedroom: o, that all? thot u were about to tell me ur pregnant 👹
bnnygrl224: What? How even...
bnnygrl224: You know what? Idc, stop sending your freaky ass things to my apartment.
tojisbedroom: r u kinkshaming me?
tojisbedroom: or r u just super uptight?
bnnygrl224: Stop thinking about how "tight" I am lol.
tojisbedroom: id love to find out
tojisbedroom: u shuld b a good grl and bring my stuff over
bnnygrl224: Fix your shit and stop being so loud!
Heat warms your face as you slam your phone down. A mixture of ego and audacity. You hate him so much and you hate how easily he could have you fold. He could also probably fold you easily too.
You take a shower, its long, scalding and eases your mind. Maybe it should've been a cold one with the way your blood still pulses erratically. You're practically drooling at the thought of Toji prying your thighs open to fit his large frame between them. God, you're no better than the elderly women that coo over him in the halls.
You lotion your skin before crawling into bed, nothing more than a oversized shirt to cover your body. Cool air causes you to sink deeper into your blanket, humming in content. You could fall asleep instantly, just like this so happy in the silence of your room. Its jinx, immediately pulling your pillow over your head at the start up of yelling.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
It goes on for ten minutes, back and forth, back and forth. You can't hear what it's about, but not your monkey and for damn sure, not your circus. You roll over onto your side, keeping the pillow there until you realize it's gone quiet. You exhale and let the pillow rest on the empty side of you bed. Finally your eyes flutter shut, but that doesn't stop you from hearing the distinct click of your balcony door open, followed by the drag of it opening. If you were about to die, the last thing you'd have heard was your neighbor arguing.
"Hey, hey its me, its me!" Toji's voice is nothing more than a whisper and your fear is instantly replaced by anger.
You quickly uncover yourself and stand with your hands on your hips, your heart still raced uncontrollably, "Um, ex-fucking-cuse you? This is my bedroom, not the hydration station?"
"I know, I'm sorry, doll, its just – she went through my phone and seen who else I was talking to and started going fuckin' crazy."
You take a beat, his bare skin finally registering in your head. He's in nothing but a towel and you can't help look down at the pathetic excuse, its more of a hand towel than something that completely wraps around his waist. You pinch the bridge of your nose, this was a man that was older than you and here he was hiding from a booty call.
"You're the only one that looks fucking crazy here! Get out!" You move your fingers from your face to glare up at him.
It sounds like a whine and maybe it is, you're tired and you really believed you were about to die. You push at his chest, its weak and he doesn't budge. Balcony door, front door, window, toilet, you didn't care how he got out, you just wanted him to fucking leave!
"Wow, you'd just put me out, dollface? Thought we were friends," he's not truly hurt, he's actually smiling at your attempt to move him – if another grown man couldn't, what made you think you could?
"Yes I'd put you out! Go call the cops or something," You stop, throwing your head back and crying out, "I want to go to sleep!"
"And you can, just let me crash here until she leaves or calms down," Toji eyes you, legs to chest to face, "you know, I've been told I'm good at putting people to bed."
You hum in acknowledgement, your eyeroll hidden as you walk towards your bedroom door, "I'm sure you are. If you leave me alone, you can have the couch–"
"Say, you got anything I can put on?" He looks at you almost offended like you should've offered him clothes by now.
It takes a lot to not look down, to not follow the thick, girth outline of his– "No, why would I have anything to fit you, Toji? Now let me sleep."
You shut the door, hearing his deep chuckle as he walks towards your living room. The sound of the tv turning on lets you know that he's not actively snooping through your apartment. It wasn't like you had much to hide, but it'd been so long since you had a man in your home. Your house isn't a mess, but the garden of plants may point to a separate problem. You're a bit lonely.
It still feels weird nonetheless, having someone else in your space. You lock your bedroom door then the balcony. The last thing you needed was some bitter woman coming to kill you over a guy you hadn't even fucked.
You're almost surprised to wake up the following morning, you were so sure that there would be more drama throughout the night. You don't even remember falling asleep. Uncovering yourself, you stick your feet into a pair of worn rabbit slippers.
"Toji, are you still here?" You yawn out, rubbing the sleep from one of your eyes.
"Mhm," he purrs out, his voice rich and deep with tiredness, "mornin', sleeping beauty."
He's wrapped one of your throw blankets around his waist, lying across the couch like he owns it. You groan a good morning back as you trudge to the kitchen. It's routine, how you set a pan on the stove then go to the fridge to pull out eggs and bacon. Toji's eyes are on you, the back of his head cushioned by his forearms.
"I could get used to this, did you know you're sexy in the morning?"
"You just want someone to fuck," you take a drink of pineapple juice you'd had poured as the bacon began to sizzle, "too early in the morning, Toji."
"Two things can be true."
"Mmm, well, I'm not fucking you and I'm not sharing my food."
"Huh? C'mon, now, be good to me."
You're unsure which one he's more upset about, probably the former thing, "Be good to you, hm? Like letting you put your balls on my couch or not calling the police after scaring the shit out of me while I was trying to sleep? Is that all not being good to you, Lord Toji?"
"I haven't thanked you yet, have I?"
You push the pan back to an empty burner, turning off the stove. Toji's gotten up from the couch, probably to eat some of the bacon. But he doesn't, instead his warm hands hold onto the curve of your hips. At first, you freeze at the softness of his lips against your bare shoulder, but the gentle action melts you. You steady yourself against the ledge of the hot stove as he moves higher up your neck, sucking the skin until you're sure there'll be a hickey blooming within a few hours.
As much as he'd be happy with bending you over your counter, he wants to see the many face he'll make you make, "Thanks for being such a good neighbor, doll. Been real good to me, you're just the sweetest," he spins you to face him, but he just goes back to kissing up the side of your neck.
He grips onto your thigh, pulling it up to his waist. He's hard, straining against the blanket although you don't think it'd do anything more than just hang heavy between his thighs even if he was naked. You grind against him and he breathlessly laughs into your ear.
"So you'll let me taste that sweetness, right, doll?"
Your mouth opens, a plea for him so close to slipping from your tongue whenever your phone begins to ring. Realization hits you hard, you're about to fuck your neighbor and it would've been unprotected since you hadn't had a use for condoms in years. You push Toji away and follow the chime of your phone to your room. Its on your bedside table whenever find and answer it.
Hey, we saw you were scheduled for later tonight, we're overstaffed, so we wanted to see if you were cool with not coming in?
"Yeah...yeah, that's fine. See you Monday," You pray that she didn't hear the heavy breaths you'd been taking, running your hand over your face.
"Hey, Toji, you need to–"
You turn and are met with Toji casually unraveling the blanket from his waist. Somewhat accidentally, your eyes follow to where his hands are, catching exactly what he's packing. The trail of hair that disappears beneath his waistline leads to a black tuff of hair that surrounds the base of his cock. You wondered how many people had been able to reach it, seeing as there was an entire obstacle the size of your forearm that protrudes from it. It made sense now. The euphoric screams, the people that left on weak legs.
He doesn't even look hard, but it bobs, "Oops."
"Holy fuck," You need to look away, not stroke his stiffening ego, but you've never seen something this big, "you fuck people with that?"
"Mmhm, ya' wanna see how I do it?"
Your head shakes, you need to get your jaw off the floor and end this little game, "No Toji," you grab the blanket and his towel and shove it into his hands, "you need to go home!"
He allows you to push him towards the door, "But I'm all naked and vulnerable," he pleads unconvincingly.
"Your front door is like five feet away," You roll your eyes, "bye Toji."
The corner of his lips twitch upwards as you shut your door, leaving him in the hallway. Naked.
There's an entire closet and bathroom that separates your two units. But maybe you just spoke on a frequency that only he could hear, your moans like a dog whistle to his ears, wetness that he swore he heard in time with each thud of your headboard. It bothered Bakugo, not only because his own sex life had become drab, but because it was mainly his own friends that he saw strolling out of your front door. He wouldn't ever say the he was jealous. But there was something frustrating about having his girlfriend, sleeping so soundly while he just had to listen. His pillow wasn't enough to block out the sound.
Please, cum in me, please I need it.
Katsuki didn't like you, not as a person nor as his girlfriend's neighbor. He hated that your friend groups overlapped, hearing you at night like this then having to see you or one of his friends the next day was borderline torture. Made him want to throw up and curse everyone out all at once. It also could be pent up sexual frustration, he should be the one getting laid, but that was an entirely different can of worms.
"Fuckin' hell," Bakugo threw the blanket off himself, startling his girlfriend awake, her blonde hair mussled as he stomps out.
Those eighteen steps were spent thinking of what he was going to yell at you, cursing you out about being a neighbor that had the common courtesy to not be as loud as you could possibly manage. He wasn't in the wrong for this one, ever since you moved in, you've been a pain in his ass. I need your help please this and can you give this back to Cams, not to mention those stupid fucking outfits you wear whenever you come over.
Bakugo bangs on your door, it'd be easy to confuse it with the police. It takes a minute or so, but you open the door, using it as support. You're in a shirt with presumably nothing beneath it, not that he's looking, but it does stop right at your mid thighs, if you were just to lift your arms up a little. There's a dim light that comes from your kitchen, illuminating the fresh bites that decorate your thighs – which also has the faintest descending trail of opaque wetness between them.
"You finally want to fuck?"
He wasn't staring, he'll fight you tooth and nail on it, "No, I'm not at rock bottom yet," he scoffs.
"Three am is usually booty call time, what else could you want?" You look disheveled, your eyes low as if you were drunk, but your smile says you're sober, hyperaware of how you were presenting yourself, "Don't tell me, she's still not giving you any."
He sucks his teeth, a minute in and you've disarmed him and made him completely forget his entire rant, "You done yet? Fuckin' keep it down, not all of us can make a living by fuckin' every guy they know like you."
You pout, his words don't hurt, you've heard worse, "You learn a lot about a person from the type of people they keep around, I'm just trying to get to know you Katsuki," your smile is downright wicked.
"We should pick up some snacks–," Kirishima grabs the door, he's a lot taller than you, but an inch or so shorter than Bakugo. He's in nothing but loose pajama bottoms, showcasing the reciprocal scratches and bites, "oh, holy shit, Kats, I forgot Camie lived around here, how ya' doin' man?"
