Villain Ch 1985. You are So Big

Mila's heart stopped.

And then slammed back into her chest like it was trying to escape.

"W‑Wait, no— I didn't mean it like that— I just—"

But Allen was already reaching for the belt he'd tossed to the side earlier. His movements were precise. Efficient. No wasted energy. No hesitation.

That's when she realized… yeah.

He was actually serious.

His fingers looped the belt again, and she instinctively scrambled backwards across the mattress like a mouse running from a lion.

"Allen— I‑I was joking! It was just a joke!"

"You called me dramatic," he said flatly.

"I— okay, maybe a little dramatic, but—"

"You accused me of one-night stands."

"That was—!"

Allen grabbed her ankle.

She gasped.

In a blink, he was on top of her again, weight solid and warm and heavy enough to still her panic. She panted, heart thudding. His gaze locked onto hers.

The air between them thickened.

"Don't squirm," he murmured.

"I wasn't—"

He pulled her hands above her head and looped the belt around her wrists again. The sound of leather sliding, buckling, tightening, it was all too loud. Her breath hitched.

Her arms tensed.

But he didn't pull the belt painfully. He didn't hurt her.

He just made it clear.

She wasn't moving unless he allowed it.

Mila bit her lip, eyes wide. "Allen…"

He tilted his head. "Now what was it you said earlier? About being embarrassed?"

"I‑I just didn't expect to fall this hard—"

"Oh? So now it's my fault?"

"No! I mean—yes—uh—wait—"

He leaned in, nose brushing hers, breath warm against her lips.

"Let me get this straight," he murmured. "You tease me. You call me dramatic. You accuse me of playing girls. And now you're red-faced, tied to the bed, trembling like you're about to melt… and I'm the problem?"

She nodded quickly. "Yes. I mean no. I mean… I'm sorry!"

He pulled back just a little, watching her eyes, waiting.

Her breath came fast. Her chest rose and fell.

Then, with a soft whisper, she added.

"I'll be a good girl now…"

Allen froze.

A long, tense second passed.

Then he exhaled, slow and low… and muttered something that sounded like damn it.

He reached down and gripped her chin gently but firmly, forcing her to look at him.

"You really know how to say the right thing at the wrong time," he said.

"I was being honest…"

He leaned closer. "Say it again."

Her voice came out barely a breath. "I'll be a good girl…"

Allen's pupils dilated. His jaw flexed.

Then he chuckled, dark and dangerous.

"I don't believe you," he said, one hand sliding slowly down her side. "You don't even know how to behave."

She whimpered as his hand brushed along her thigh. "I can learn…"

"Mm. Not convinced."

"Please…?"

That earned her a kiss.

Not soft. Not sweet.

Possessive.

His mouth covered hers with heat and pressure and zero hesitation, like he was swallowing her protests straight from her lungs.

When he pulled back, his voice was hoarse. "You don't get to brat and beg in the same breath, Mila."

"I didn't brat—"

"You ran from me."

"I scooted!"

"You mocked me."

"I—okay, yeah, I did that."

His brows lifted. "And?"

"I said sorry!"

"Not good enough."

She squirmed beneath him, the belt creaking with tension, her wrists pinned above her head.

Her cheeks flamed. Her body arched instinctively. Her lips parted.

"Allen," she whispered, "then… what is good enough?"

He leaned closer, voice like velvet and smoke.

"When you stop teasing," he said, "and prove to me that you're mine."

Mila didn't answer.

She couldn't.

Because in that moment, with his voice in her ear, his weight on her hips, and her wrists locked above her head…

She already was.

Owned.

Ruined.

Wrecked in a way that felt like worship.

Allen's eyes never left hers. That low, knowing look in them… half warning, half hunger, made her legs tremble again. He tilted his head slowly, like he was studying her face for lies.

"You really think you're done, huh?" he asked, his voice a lazy curl of heat in the dark.

"I… I thought we were cuddling now," she whispered.

His brow twitched. "You think I tie girls up for cuddles?"

"I mean, maybe you're… the intense snuggly type?"

His mouth flattened into a line.

She winced.

"And I've ruined it."

"Yeah," he said darkly. "You did."

He pressed down on her wrists, just enough for the belt to tighten again, the leather creaking, her breath catching.

"Wait, wait, I didn't mean—"

"Uh-huh."

Allen shifted his weight, his body sliding lower, the movement grazing against her overly sensitive skin. She squeaked and twisted slightly, eyes wide.

"I just mean you're really… um… physically overwhelming," she said in a rush. "Like, in a good way! Just! You know! You're so big—"

Allen froze.

Oh no.

Her eyes widened. "Wait— I mean— tall! You're tall! Not— not like that—"

He stared at her. Silent. Deadpan.

She was going to explode from shame. "Allen, please don't say anything—"

"I didn't," he said slowly. "You're the one who said I'm physically overwhelming."

"You are!"

"You said I'm so big."

"I was flustered!"

Allen's voice dropped an octave. "You keep saying things that make me hard again."

She went absolutely still.

The heat rushed so violently into her cheeks she thought she'd pass out. "Allen—"

"You think I didn't notice how you looked earlier?" he whispered, dragging his fingers slowly down her thigh. "When I took the towel off? You stared. Mouth slightly open. Eyebrows up. Like someone who just got handed a gift and didn't know whether to unwrap it or worship it."

"I did not—!"

He leaned down, his nose brushing her ear, breath hot. "You did. And now you're babbling in my bed, tied up, flushed pink, and saying things like 'so big' with that shaky little voice."

"I didn't mean—"

"You never mean it. That's the problem."

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