#I hate that I need to learn to knit
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what hobbies are actually screen-free tho
#best i can do is reading and writing but the books i want to read are ebooks and i hate writing by hand#warhammers and card collections are expensive :/ i cant do finicky crafts like knitting or crochet bc joint pain#im not quite close enough to the sea for paddleboarding (but that is something i want to get to)#walking could be good?#im seeing suggestions from reddit on learning to solve a rubiks cube but it seems like id need the Internet to get my head around it#i do have a dartboard to start improving darts but I have nowhere for it#i could đ get back to sketching#ppl are also saying martial arts and rock climbing and chess but im not social enough to join a club or anything#i dont like the idea of Making Things either like air dry clay or cross-stitch bc i have nothing to do with it afterwards#wait âholy shitâ we can put quotations in the tags now when did that change
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i somehow forgot that all knitting photos posted on here get abundantly reblogged by randos and now people are in my replies condescendingly explaining that picot bind offs arenât too hard actually
they only mean well by this and i hope they never see me complaining about them and if they do they shouldn't internalize anything about it. but it really irritates me anyway
#if i was sincerely concerned about it i would not post in the next sentence that i am not worried about it and confident in my ability#to learn new knitting techniques as needed.#i admit that this is just me being dickish to well intentioned people. but i really hate it when someone is like 'you've got this!!!'#to a STRANGER on a random post that is not specifically asking for emotional reassurance and is instead just. about something#like oh? you're so much better at knitting than me that you're qualified to start contentlessly life coaching me about it?#you can tell that because you read one sentence of my tags?#this doesn't apply to literally any of you btw because first of all you've been around enough to have actual context on any given post#making any reassurance you provide into something that is not just a smug assumption that you're in a position of expertise relative to me#but an actual like. social interaction#and second of all because none of you do this. if you cheerlead me it's on posts where that makes any sense to do and i might want it#and if you provide advice it. is advice. and has content. and again. is usually more solicited and always isn't from strangers.#this is purely how i feel about it when someone who i don't know and has never seen me before acts like i obviously need reassurance#that it is possible to learn to do a bind-off. i self-teach new knitting techniques constantly! leave me alone!!!!
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It's funny because sometimes I'll get very angry and frustrated about something IRL, and my brain will just take all that anger and frustration and dump it into some old or new fandom thing I hate.
#Right now I'm trying to learn machine knitting and it's very difficult#So of course I'm thinking again about how much I hate the D*usy#And D*isy in general#pathetic whiny worthless irritating diva that she is#My most hated Marvel female character so far#she only cared about herself and everyone had to live and bend for her#her decisions to disobey were always bad and always harming the team and the mission#And the series insisted so much we the audience needed to love her#And all I wanted was to punch her face#anywayts#then they went and paired Sousa with her#what an insult to both Sousa and Peggy#A man does not recover from such devotion to such a woman#I would have gotten Sousa falling for Elena or even May much more easily#Like you know both went through a whole lot of shit#Neither of them was a beloved child with a whole organization behind her keeping her alive and safe her whole life#and yet none of them was woe me all the time and wow look how fabulous and strong and also how tortured#gah#anyways moving on
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Heaven forbid you're trying to do something like learn a new stitch for knitting and have to use both your hands to hold your needles but you missed a step so you need to scroll back in the video to repeat the part but then you have to grab your needles again and pray you didn't lose your place and oh no you did and you need to go back farther and pick up your work again and now you have to repeat the whole thing up until the part you missed and try not to miss it again and why couldn't this have just been a photo guide with written instructions again????
I am slowly losing my mind over the shift towards video as the default media format.
I do not find this to be an efficient way to absorb information. I am bored and distracted by the time the largely unnecessary introduction is over. I can't use ctrl+f to find the specific information I'm looking for. If there are instructions to follow, I don't want to have to constantly pause and back up to the part I need.
At least give me a fucking transcript.
#if you didnt realize it by now I hate video guides for learning knitting#same with crochet#if I need both hands to do the thing then video instructions are the worse format to teach it
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twas about to comment "drop the patter king" on the cutest star patterned knit cardigan on tiktok before i noticed the tiktok shop link...... alas,,,,,,, for but a moment i lived in a world full of hip knitters instead of dropshippers </333333
#mecore#truth#real#relatable#relatable moment#i need to learn how to knit#ta supposed to be good for your hands way better than crochet#i hate tags actually#i might draft this#i've been using drafts to do high political rants so i don't annoy my gf by my dumb opinions
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Fuck I hope they did get weed
It hurts too much I can't do tonight sober man lol. I just can't pretend like im not hurting idc. It's my life and my journey and my choices and I know what's true in my heart etc and I am sad and hurting. My best friend was like "hey I'll listen to you talk as much as you need" and now they're like "the only one hanging on is you you need to let go" and I think they're confused why I'm still upset which is so frustrating. I saw a whole future and now we don't talk like. I am upset and I will continue to feel what i need to feel. I'm taking steps forward it's not like I'm just sitting in it.
#god i hate People dude#i just hate being a person#i cant win#i need to feel and express it's who i am i feel things big#and thats confusing to people and i just have to not care#i hate being confusing.#but it's who i am#anyway. time to pack for a sleepover w my cousins lol#my aunt is giving me all her crochet + knitting stuff SO i will be learning to knit now too#but not before i make a heart afghan that she has a big pattern for!!!!#im really really excited for that
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i neeeeed to get back into knitting and sewing i need to make another quilt and i want to knit a sweater (đŹđŤŁ) and socks and maybe sew a coat i dunno!!!
#idk. im scared man#sigh i need to learn to read knitting patterns and make my mike hat#cause iâve literally only made a scarf like a year ago ish ? and thats it#so. mike hat for practice and then onto a big project#well its just that i hate buying yarn lol. sorry im such a cheapskate#as for quilting idk i love quilting and ive been buying a lot of cheap fabric but im scared of my colour combos i need more fabricâŚ#i love the finished quilt i made last winter and the random squares i made in the spring#but i dont love the colour choices and also just the fabrics themselves#so im scared! okay!#whatever.
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âMen want to steal our biologically determined job of live-in maid and this is a bad thing. I am a feminist.â
10 pounds says terfs start arguing men have an unfair advantage in knitting next
#feminism#once again I feel the need to be like: Have these people ever fucking met a man before?#men kind of notoriously want women to stay at home and serve them#they also notoriously want nothing to fucking do with hobbies perceived as traditionally feminine#if you remember men kind of hate women and think weâre inferior and they donât want to be like us. at all.#that was like kind of the whole point of this feminism thing you know nothing about#even the idea that a man would bother to learn how to crochet/knit/whatever and consistently be seen doing so on the sidelines#like just for the sake of what? what does he get out of it? quickly.#this also queerphobic as hell#Christ
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don't talk about it á°áŠ j.sc
warnings. smut, best friend!sungchan, roommate!sungchan, arguing, it's a dumb argument but you are fighting this man, physical fighting, just shoving nothing crazy but a physical altercation starts this all, unprotected sex, hair pulling, some angst? idk if i missed something let me know! i also did not proofread this because i got out 5k words in one night which is crazy for me. anyways, enjoy!
wc. 5k
summary. your best friend embarrasses you in front of your campus crush. so, of course, you decide to fight with him in the living room and learn some interesting things about him in the process.
Sungchan had always been stupidly large, in your opinion.
He was so large that you couldnât resist the urge to playfully test his strength, curious to see how his fit frame would react to your playful jabs or if he would sway with a gentle nudge. He would playfully push you back, never with full force, but these light-hearted scuffles became a regular part of your friendship. It was a source of joy, a shared silliness, it meant everything.
Except for the times it did.
âYouâre so stupid sometimes, oh my god!â You shouted at your so-called âbest friend,â shoving hard into his chest. This shove wasnât like the ones you usually gave him. This one was harsh and mean. There was not a semblance of anything alluding to happiness on your face as you looked up at Sungchan with knitted brows and parted lips, shoving hard into his firm chest once again, this time with a shout of frustration.
If weâre being honest, you two have been drinking. Itâs not like youâre shitfaced and neither is he, but the alcohol is just enough to make the world blurry at the edges and your words harsher than you typically allow them to be. His chest, solid as a boulder beneath your pushing palms, doesn't yield like it usually would during your fond roughhousing. He stands firm, his expression teetering between annoyance and worry.
"Stop it," he gruffly says, grabbing your wrists mid-shove. Just like that, the playful laughter that usually echoes between you two gets choked in the tension-filled silence. You try to yank your hands-free, but his grip is firm yet gentle. He was never rough with you, even when the fights turned serious like this. It was a rarity for things to turn nasty, but sometimes Sungchan was so oblivious you couldnât stop yourself from lashing out at him, especially with a few mixed drinks in your system.
âLet go,â You snapped. Sungchan leans in with a tilt of his head, letting out a âHm?â as he does so, challenging you.
âChill out first.â That did the exact opposite of chill you out. You hated it when he took that tone of voice with you, as if you were some child that needed to be put into a timeout.Â
There were many things you loved about Sungchan: His kindness, his dedication to anything he sets his mind to, his eyes, you loved a lot about Sungchan, but there were many things you couldnât stand about him. He was oblivious to the simplest of social cues, he got loud when he was drunk, and the way he comforted people was an absolute joke. If you hadnât known him for more than half your life and shared an apartment with him, you wouldâve ditched him when you two graduated high school.
But you didnât. Now, youâre stuck with a big, dumb roommate who loves telling the men you like that you like them. God, Wonbin was never going to talk to you again after the scene Sungchan caused trying to get him to give you his number. You still can feel the embarrassment hot in your veins, making you lurch forward and finally give his chest a shove that makes him stumble a few steps.
âI wonât chill out! I wonât! What you did was fucking rude!â You yelled, pointing a finger in his face to punctuate your words and get your point across. Sungchan scoffed, turning his head away from you, but you could see his tongue press against the inside of his cheek, making the skin push out slightly. It was a habit of his you had noticed when you two went to parties together in college. Itâs what he does when heâs annoyed and holding himself back, beating someoneâs ass. Itâs a rare occasion for Sungchan to beat someoneâs ass, but when it did happen, it was always deserved. Typically, it would be a drunk guy who wanted to buck up to the biggest guy at the party, a one-sided battle of masculinity that Sungchan always won, no matter who came up to him. Youâve only seen Sungchan throw a punch twice in your entire friendship.
Once, when you were in high school, and the last time was at a party during your junior year of college when a man put his hands on you despite you telling him to fuck off. The other times, he had simply told you about when youâd see him in the kitchen with littered bruises on his body. You think about that night more often than youâd like to admit. Sungchan didnât hesitate to throw a punch for you, knocking the man clean out by the time he was done with him. It lit a fire in you that youâre not proud to admit. There was just something in his eyes that rubbed your brain right. You would never admit it, but were desperate to see that look again. You wanted to see him angry, to watch him lose control no matter how fucked up it sounds.
âGet your hand out of my face,â Sungchan told you firmly, looking you in the eyes to get his point across, but you werenât deterred. You step closer to him, finger still in his face.
âNo. Not until you apologize. Admit it was rude. You were rude.â
âI wasnât fucking rude,â Sungchan argues, swatting your hand down when you donât move it from his face. You bring it back up without a care of the consequences, resulting in a game of him swatting your hand down every time you bring it up.
You two look stupid. Thank God this is in the privacy of your living room.
âYou had no right-â
âYou were never going to talk to him if I didnât! Youâre a chicken-â
âIâm not a fucking chickenââOh my god, donât call me a bird.â
âYouâre such a fucking chicken, dude. Do you remember how long it took you to even talk to Shotaro? Months. âTook you months to even say hi to him, and thatâs because-â
âShut up.â
âThatâs because I had to step it! I was the one to get you to talk to him!â Sungchan continued with a shit-eating grin, voice picking up volume as he leaned down to get closer to you as if you couldnât hear him clear enough, pointing to himself like he had won some kind of award. Your already flushed cheeks begin to heat up when you remember the Shotaro incident of 2022. He always brought up Shotaro, and even if it was just to pick on you playfully, it still struck a nerve. You were more shy than Sungchan ever was, always letting him start the conversations or introduce you to new people. Half of your friends are Sungchanâs friends; half of the people youâve dated are because Sungchan knew them first. Every connection in your life could be traced back to Sungchan, which drove you insane.
âNow, you want to talk all this shit because you got embarrassed I had to step in again and help you get some dick,â Sungchan pressed, his grin turning into a smirk as he nodded at his words, feeling them in his being because theyâre true. You stared at him with contempt, teeth grinding as your fists balled up tightly. âYou should be thanking me. Youâre so ungrateful for everything-â
You lunged at him. You swear you donât have control of your body when you do it, you just throw your entire weight into his chest and hope for the best. Sungchan let out an âOof!â sound when you collided with him, staggering back and hitting the ground with you on top of him. You act as if you two are playfully wrestling, but none of your movements have an ounce of playfulness in them. You straddled his hips firmly as you shoved at his hands harshly to get them away from grabbing you. You knew once he got his hands on you, it was over. Heâd flip you two over, and itâd be done. You couldnât let him win this. You couldnât do it. You had to prove it to him.
You donât know what it was, but you had to prove it.
You grab his hair tightly, jerking his head off the carpet to distract him, tugging hard on the brown locks. Sungchan lets out a yelp that sounds pathetic. His eyes squeezed shut as his large hands wrapped around your wrist to try and pull you off of him.
âNot fair-â He started. You shake his head, eliciting another yelp from him.
âShut up. Shut the fuck up,â You spat at him, shaking him again. His face contorted in pain and confusion, groaning softly as he did what you told him for once. You couldnât believe he actually listened. Truthfully, you didnât think youâd get this far. Youâre not exactly sure what to do next. So, you shake his head again, making him hiss when you tugged harder on his locks. âCanât fucking stand you, you know that? Youâre such a jerk sometimes. Just big, stupid, and taking up space.â You shake his head around with every word, watching him drop his hands and put them up in front of him in faux surrender, but he doesnât say anything. He only whined and grunted when you pulled on his hair harder than usual.
You waited for him to spit something back at you, to call you a coward, to say you needed him, but nothing but pants left his plush lips. You furrow your brows in confusion at his silence. Sungchan was never quiet. You shake him again.
âHello? Say something!â You shake his head again, this time back and forth. You wonât lie. It was fun to have him like this. He acted like some kind of puppet that you were the master of, pulling him around in whichever direction you wanted him to go in, and he just took it. Sungchan sighed in defeat, keeping his eyes shut tightly.
âMy dick just twitched.âÂ
Oh.
âExcuse me?â You couldnât think of anything else to say. Your hands, which had been roughly pulling at Sungchan's hair, suddenly freeze. Your heart pounds in your chest as you gaze down at him, cocking a brow at him. His face is flushed a deep crimson, though whether from embarrassment or something else, you can't tell.
"I said," he starts again, much slower this time, swallowing hard, "My... my dick just twitched."
You blink at his repeated confession, not expecting him to repeat the words. Thereâs a tension growing between the two of you that youâve never felt before, making your throat dry as you stare at Sungchanâs embarrassed face, watching his chest rise and fall as he pants beneath you. Flashes of what heâd look like without his shirt flash in your brain, wondering what sounds heâd make as you sink down on him, how his eyes would look, how the muscles would ripple under hisââJesus Christ, get it together, girl. You remind yourself, clearing your throat down at him.
âLikeâŚSeriously?â Sungchan nods at your dry words, opening his eyes slowly to look up at you. A switch in your brain is flipped when you see his big brown eyes. He looks utterly pathetic like this, hair in your hand revealing his forehead, eyes pleading for something silent, and lips in a perfect soft pout. You wanted to take his picture like the actual definition of pitiful.
You chuckle at him, shaking him again and tugging his hair hard to see if it really did anything for him. He whines again, shutting his eyes as his hands lurch towards your hips, holding tightly with a sharp breath through his teeth. You smirk at his reaction, raising your brows in slight shock it was this easy to get him going. Maybe it was the alcohol, you think. Youâve seen Sungchan shove his tongue down girlsâ throats just mere minutes after he met them, but this is you. Youâre his best friend, his roommate, the girl who beat his ass for talking to her crush for her. You know youâre pretty, and Sungchan is just a man, but youâre still caught off guard by it all.
Your palm still cradled his scalp, thumb lazily tracing small circles at the base of his hairline. Sungchanâs hands on your hips squeeze gently, fingers digging into your flesh just a bit more than necessary and causing a shiver to wind its way up your spine.
Without thinking, you leaned forward and claimed Sungchan's lips in a rough, desperate kiss. His taste was different than any guy you've ever kissed - salty with a hint of beer and lime from the drink he had tonight. You wrapped your hand tightly around the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you as your other hand found its way under his shirt to feel his warm skin. You didn't let up when he moaned into your mouth, feeling your touch while he tentatively kissed you back. Your anger turned into desperation quickly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, tasting him fully now. His lips were soft and plush against yours as they parted slightly to let you in further. You moaned the moment your tongues slid together, digging your nails into his toned chest as he pressed in further, sucking softly on the slick muscle in your mouth.
Sungchan's hands moved up your body, gripping your waist and still pulling you closer. The fabric of your shirt scratching against his rough palms made you shiver with anticipation for more contact. You grind down on him out of instinct, feeling the bulge in his pants grow as he groans against your mouth, wanting more from both of you. His scent filled your senses - a mix of sweat and cologne and something uniquely Sungchan that made you want more.
The sound of his rhythmic grunts filled the room, a mix of desire and surprise in every breath he took. His fingers dug into your skin through your shirt, and you moaned into his mouth once more. Your breath hitched when he bit down on your lower lip gently, making you gasp and whimper into the kiss before breaking it, desperate for air. You gasp softly when you part, watching with hazy eyes as he pants as well, lips slick with spit and typically wide eyes heavy with lust.
You tug at his shirt, nodding before he has any time to say something that will kill the mood.
âTake it off.â
And he listens like a dog, pushing himself up and pulling his white T-shirt over his head, tossing it aside before wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling you flush against him. There are no thoughts in your head right now, only Sungchan, touching Sungchan, kissing Sungchan, fucking Sungchanâ���Holy shit, you were totally going to fuck Sungchan. That hits you harder than you thought it would. Youâve thought about it before. How could you not? Heâs beautiful, kind, and built like a God. Of course, you thought about fucking Sungchan. It was nothing like this, however. Typically, you thought of him having your face pressed into the mattress, back arched, and fucking you from behind like he was getting paid. You wouldâve never guessed youâd be on top, but itâs not like you canât get into it for Sungchan. Youâd do anything for Sungchan.
"Are you sure?" Sungchan whispers against the skin of your neck, his hands finding your hips again to steady you against him, his bare chest warm and firm. You're taken aback for a moment, not expecting the question. But then you realize that heâs always been considerate, even when heâs on the verge of losing control.
"Yeah," you say firmly, the word slipping out without thought and causing heat to flare in Sungchan's eyes.
Without hesitation, you reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head swiftly. The cool air hits your skin, making goosebumps spread across your chest and arms. Sungchan's eyes widen as he takes you in, his gaze making you feel exposed and powerful. You struggle to pull your jeans off, having to crawl off of him to kick them off in haste. You hate how desperate you look but canât bring yourself to care. Sungchan rolls on his side when you crawl off of him, lingering towards you like a lost puppy. His eyes watch as more of your skin is revealed to him, letting out a groan when he sees the smooth skin of your thighs.
Before you have the chance to climb back on top of him, he leans in, kissing the side of your thigh with a moan. You let out a gasp in shock but watched him with parted lips, threading your hands through his hair again as he dragged his lips all over the expanse of your thigh, leaving a trail of glistening spit as he did. He grabs your ankle, pulling you towards him roughly, making you fall back onto the carpet with another gasp. You donât argue for once; you are too invested in what Sungchan will do next, even if you care.
His lips pepper kisses across the inside of your thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin with deep breaths as he inched closer and closer to your core.
He licks his lips as he hooks a long finger in your underwear, pulling them to the side. A moan leaves his lips when he sees your pussy for the first time, looking down at it like heâs looking at a coveted piece of art. You watch him closely, ears turning pink as he lifts two fingers to his lips, licking the tips of them before bringing them down between your legs to rub circles into your clit. His gaze stays on your cunt, watching how the pretty pink flesh moves beneath his fingers, biting his bottom lip when he hears you let out a whine, seeing your thighs tremble at just the slightest touch. Finally, his dark gaze lifts to meet yours.
With his eyes trained on yours, he presses a long finger inside you. A sigh leaves your lips as your eyes flutter shut, gripping the carpet with one hand while the other dug into your side, biting your bottom lip as he pressed another finger inside. You moan this time, feeling your walls begin to stretch for him. You hear him groan quietly, making your eyes open. Youâre immediately met with his gaze that never left your face. He looks like heâs in a trance, staring at you like youâre the most beautiful thing heâs ever seen. You canât tell how it makes you feel, but you feel hot, like youâre boiling from the inside out. It aches, but itâs so intoxicating that you want more of it.
You whimper at how his fingers slickly slide out, then back in, watching him get lost in the sight of your reactions. Youâre so wet for him. Itâs almost embarrassing how wet you got so quickly. You swallow thickly as your chest rises and falls with each pant. His eyes stay on your face as his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing slow circles that make you shiver with a choked-out moan. His free hand cups your jaw, tilting your head back slightly, forcing your lips apart to look deeply into your eyes as he watches you crumble under him.
Feeling emboldened, Sungchan takes his fingers out of you slowly, letting out a long moan when they leave you empty. He lays a line of sweet pecks against your inner thighs, leaving tiny bites and nips on the soft flesh until he reaches the hem of his boxers. With a breathy "Fuck," he tugs them down enough to reveal his hard cock pressing against the fabric. You gulp as it springs from its confines, averting your eyes momentarily before snapping them back up to challenge his gaze. His thick length twitches with anticipation before he guides it towards you, slick with pre-cum leaking from the tip. Your heart stops for a beat before racing wildly in your chest again.
"Wrap your legs around me," Sungchan orders softly, not breaking eye contact even when you hesitate for a second before obeying. He grunts when he feels your folds pressing against his cock, pushing inside without a momentâs hesitation. He slides in so easily, groaning at how smooth the glide inside you is. He sounds as beautiful as he looks, making you moan as well. The way his cock splits your walls apart for him is delicious, to say the least, as a euphoria fills your veins as your walls spasm around him with another moan, this one airier than the one before.
âFuck,â Sungchan curses, fingers digging into the carpet next to your head as he looks down at where your bodies were connected before back at your face. You two lock eyes again, making your heart hammer in your chest harder than before. Still, you meet his gaze with a quiet whimper, hands wrapping around his strong biceps as you bat your lashes at him.
âFeels good, Sungie?â You ask in a too-sweet voice. You rarely whip out for him unless you ask for a favor, like getting something off the top shelf or making him finish your short answer response questions because you donât want to. Sungchan would do anything for you, and youâd do anything for Sungchan. He takes a deep breath at your tone, lips curling into a smirk before he bites his bottom lip, nodding.
Then, his hips roll into yours.
Sungchan's thick cock feels even better than you could have ever imagined, stretching you wide and fulfilling you completely. His hips roll into yours slowly, making you moan and whine beneath him with each gentle thrust. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, his smirk turning into a grimace as he leans down to capture your lips in a rough kiss.
Your walls clamp down on him at the contact, purposely trying to get more friction between the two of you. Sungchan groans against your lips, slipping his hands under your back and lifting you up onto his lap effortlessly. You gasp into his mouth, feeling his hard chest pressed against yours. Your heart pounds in your chest as he starts to fuck you properly now, eyes closing at the sensation that washes over you. You swear you can feel his heartbeat against your chest, but you convince yourself youâre just dreaming it.
You feel every inch of him inside of you, making your walls tighten around him with every snap of his hips into yours. A tiny sob leaves your lips when he hits that spot inside you that has you seeing stars. You dig your nails into the flesh of his shoulders, jaw-dropping and eyes rolling back at how your body moves like a rag doll and at how sharply his hips snap up into you. He groans into your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin before sucking softly to soothe it with his tongue. You can't help but shudder in his lap; this feels so good that it hurts. His hands hold you in place, one on your waist and the other cradling the back of your head as he takes rough control of the kiss again, teeth scraping against soft skin with every thrust. He pants against your lips, moaning your name softly and how good you make him feel. It's all too much for you; all too real with Sungchan, yet so not real. Youâre fucking your roommate on your living room floorââYouâre fucking your best friend on your living room floor.
Your hands find their way into his hair again, holding onto him tightly as he continues to fuck into you like your his, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and over your collarbone. You mewl at the feeling, arching your back into his chest as he hits that sweet spot inside you once more. You could feel the warmth spreading through your veins, making you dizzy with need. The room spins around you as he thrusts harder, faster, deeper into your already aching pussy. His moans mix with yours, their tongues meeting in a messy kiss that speaks volumes about how much you both want this.
Your legs quiver as he takes control of the situation, fingers digging into your skin softly before trailing up to caress your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. You let out a strangled cry when he pinches at one of your nipples roughly, making you moan into his mouth even more, looking down to watch him work with a breath through your teeth. Your hands' card through the hair on the back of his head, eyes shutting to focus solely on the pleasure coursing through your veins with every drag of Sungchanâs cock against your walls.
"Sun-Sungchan," you whimper. The sound of his name on your lips is like music to his ears. Your body is sweaty and flushed, a beautiful sight for him to feast his eyes upon. He growls lowly when he finally meets your gaze again, heat pooling in your lower belly at the raw desire he displays.
âYouâre so fucking good, baby. âShouldâve fucked you soon, hm?â Sungchan groans, his voice creased with effort as he continues to pound into you. You canât help but respond with a needy whimper, skin burning under his touch as you nod your head dumbly. You feel him everywhere, and it's overwhelming - the way heâs stretched you wide open, the way he feels pushing deep inside of you, the way his hands are holding you in place as if afraid that you'll slip away from underneath him.
Your heart beats furiously against your chest, matching rhythm with the throbbing ache between your legs. You're close, too close, but not quite there yet. Sungchan seems to sense your growing desperation, the flash of triumph in his eyes telling you he knows exactly what he's doing to you. He reaches down and begins rubbing slow circles on your clit again, thumb pressing against the sensitive nub just enough to make you cry out in pleasure.
âYou gonna cum for me?â He whispers against your throat, teeth dipping into your soft flesh, causing a sharp gasp from your lips. You nod frantically in response, words failing you as white-hot pleasure courses through your veins. He laughs softly - a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine.
The way you melt against him is intoxicating. He grunts, unable to think straight as he feels his own orgasm building up. His hips move even faster, his cock sliding in and out of your welcoming heat with each thrust. He groans against your skin, panting heavily as he fucks you like itâs his last dying will, wet sounds filling the room that mixes with your pants and moans. You squeeze your eyes shut at the sounds youâre making, cheeks growing more read because of it. Sex is so embarrassing sometimes.
He pulls away from your neck just a little to look into your eyes, panting heavily as they roll back in pleasure. Sungchan's lips curl into a smirk at seeing how lost you get. Your walls tighten around his cock once again as you cum around him, making Sungchan's eyes roll back into his head and tilt his head back with a melodic groan that has you moaning as well. You feel him tremble beneath you as he finally cums inside of you, making you smirk softly as your hands run up and down his back.
You throw your head back and cry out his name, orgasm hitting you hard and fast like a freight train. He watches as you finally hit your peak, jaw-dropping at how gorgeous you look when you feel good. Your walls clamp down around him, and your muscles spasm in ecstasy; even through the haze of pleasure, you feel every drop of his cum spilling into you, the heat of it searing into your core. Your body convulses and shivers under the onslaught of pleasure, your voice breaking on Sungchan's name.Â
Sungchan stays still for a moment longer, his cock still buried deep inside of you. His chest heaves against yours, ragged gasps filling the space between your sated bodies. He blinks slowly, his gaze holding yours captive as he pants out your name. You take his face into his hands with a deep breath, leaning in and kissing his lips without a second though. He moans into the kiss, holding your wrists gently as he does so.
You both stay like that for a while. Bodies joined together in the aftermath of your shared orgasm. The only sounds in the room are your gasping breaths and the rapid beat of your heart pounding in sync. Cautiously, Sungchan pulls out of you gently, making your pussy squeeze around nothing instinctively at the loss, a soft whimper leaving your lips.
He rolls off to one side, pulling you with him so that you're tucked against his side. His arm wraps around you and keeps you close to him, fingers dancing along your sweaty skin lightly. Neither of you speak for long moments, too wrapped up in trying to regain control of your breathing and coming down from your highs even to fathom thinking of words right now.
Eventually, though, Sungchan breaks the silence with a soft whisper, "You okay?"
Your lips twitch into a tired smile against his chest, pressing a small kiss there before nodding. "Yeah," you huff out after a moment, "That wasâŚ"
"Crazy," he finishes for you, making you shut your eyes with a laugh, nodding in agreement.
âYeahâŚThat was crazy,â You whisper, moving your head to rest on his chest to soak up more of his warmth. Your cheek squishes against his chest as you lay there, looking down at his spent cock resting against his thigh. It hits you that youâre both naked and just had sex on your living room floor. This calls for a conversation at the least but you canât drag yourself to start it, completely spent from what just occurred.
So, instead, you close your eyes.
Youâll deal with it in the morning.
#sungchan smut#jung sungchan smut#riize smut#riize scenarios#sungchan hard hours#riize hard hours#sungchan x reader#99woez#riize imagines#riize x reader
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Legend of the Drider(Pt2)
Male!Drider x Fem!Reader
Kofi Request
Pt 1
summary: the aftermath of mating with the drider of myth
wk: 800+ words
Life with your drider lover was surprisingly⌠fulfilling,
After successfully being able to carry his clutch of eggs, he was happier than ever with you. Since mating with you, he had been treating you like a princess.
No⌠a queen.
Although he had already mated with you, the creature was a traditional man, going about the courting process one normally would in his culture.
The first thing he did was find an abandoned cabin. You needed somewhere safe and comfortable to live, especially as the fall started to change into the unforgiving winter. Being high up in the mountains meant it was rough, and he wanted his mate to be warm and happy while carrying his clutch.
The cabin wasnât anything special, and youâd have to do some renovations before it would be livable. Thankfully your mate had collected many trinkets, coins, and random wallets containing large sums of money. It was a courting present to you, and it all went to repairing the cabin.
Once it was livable, he was determined to keep you under him and warm at all times. He was almost like a cat, trying to lay in your lap and rub his scent on you.
âHeavyâŚâ you whimpered, causing him to slowly skitter back a bit. He lowered himself, sitting on the ground so his torso was level with you on the couch.
âBetter?â
You nodded, kissing his cheek.
Sex was a common occurrence, and he had the strange urge to tie you up and stuff you full of more eggs. He knew you were already carrying his clutch, but the scent of your pregnancy hormones made him go wild.
Feeling his fangs press against your neck, you let out a soft mewl. He loved giving you a low dose of his aphrodisiac venom to make you squirm while he pushed his cock into you.
His hands stayed on your belly, rubbing gently while he kissed the bite marks he had left on your neck, lapping up the little pinpricks of blood.
âSuch a sweet thing⌠how I adore you.â
He was soft and sweet with you, always making sure your pregnancy cravings were taken care of and you felt loved. His heart swelled with pride to see you so content and well taken care of, proving that he was a good mate and providing you with everything you needed.
It was easy to take your college classes online, and even though your lover got a bit sulky when you said you eventually wanted to follow your dreams and become a photographer, he did everything in his power to make it happen.
While your babies grew in your belly, your lover began producing tons of spider silk. He confessed that he learned to knit from one of the females, and started making little sweaters for all of your babies.
Some baby driders came out fully independent, which made you sad to think about. You had severe pregnancy hormones and you wanted to mother some baby spiders damn it!
He reassured you that his species required motherly care, and that because he had mated a human, the babies would be more human-like.
The cabin became less like a place to live in and more of a home. Your lover hunted at night, and slept through most of the day. He was such a clingy thing, curling with you and whining if you got up to pee at night. He hated being away from you for even a second⌠especially as his paternal instincts started kicking in.
Recently he had been aggressive towards any other creature that dared to come near the cabin, and started building a nest out of his silk webs so youâd have somewhere comfortable to give birth.
As your due date drew nearer, he grew more possessive and territorial, making sure to scent and mark you. It wasnât often that you had any time for yourself, he was inconsolable when you experienced even the slightest pain.
âI donât want you to be in pain, love. Iâm so sorry, I know itâll hurt to give birth⌠I wish I could make it all go away.â
He was with you for the whole process, his hand in yours as you gave birth to 3 healthy drider babies. They were small, with the cutest little spider legs and chubby cheeks. Each fussed and cried as they entered the world, already seeking comfort from you, their mother.
From that moment on, everything seemed to click into place. Your little ones nursed as you teared up a bit. You had brought these little ones into the world, and your lover couldnât be more happy with it.
âDo you think Iâll be a good mother?â
Your question was met with a chuckle. Your love leaned down to nuzzle against you, his eyes half lidded with contentment.
âI donât think so, I know you will.â
ââââââ
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#drider imagine#drider x human#drider x reader#drider smut#monster fucker#monster lover#monster fudger#monster boyfriend#monster fic#chubby!reader#chubby reader#x reader#terato#teratophillia#terat0philliac#teraphilia#exophelia#monster fucking#monster oc#monster boy oc#monster bf#monster breeding#monster imagine#monster x reader#monster x human#monster x you#fat reader#plus size reader#fem reader#female reader
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Family Man Farmer Logan
dad!logan howlett x fem!reader
i cannot get this out of my head- logan out in the country with his little family has my brain rotting!!!!! also girl dad logan has me in a chokehold!
part two
divider by @cafekitsune
The rooster's crow echoed in the wide open space of land, stretching across the fields and barns and the small wooden playhouse he himself had built. To ensure Logan's consciousness, the small alarm clock started ringing. He groaned. He hated that damn thing, but oh well. His wife insisted on keeping one around.
That wife, you, were regretting your decision. You matched his groan, shoving Logan as the beeping continued to invade the silence you'd been enjoying. "Turn it off." You grumbled, and he grunted in response. He reached over and sloppily felt for the button and hit it like it had personally wronged him. He inhaled deeply and rolled over to wrap his buff arms around you.
"Mornin'." He said in his raspy morning voice, his beard tickling and pricking your neck. You didn't mind. It was a good look on him.
"Morning, honey." You yawned, turning around to face him. "Who's on daughter duty this morning?" You murmured, and Logan's heart fluttered seeing your eyes open halfway sleepily. God you were perfect, even with a bedhead.
"Baby duty." He corrected a bit grumpily.
"She isn't a baby anymore, honey."
"Yeah she is." He said, absolutely no room to argue. He sat up and stretched, his back popping as he did so. He gave you a kiss. "I'll meet ya in the kitchen, yeah?"
You offered a tired mutter in response. He chuckled and left the room, dressed only in gray sweatpants. He gently creaked open the door to his little girl's room, which was filled with toys and anything of the like. She had a lot of wolf plushies. Her favorite animal. It made him feel warm, like she subconsciously loved him everywhere. She of course didn't know what the hell an actual Wolverine was (she called it a woofewine), but word association apparently.
His heart swelled at his sweet girl passed out sleeping in her new big girl bed that he had built for her. He'd painted the wood white and found some stencils of some butterflies, which were painted yellow. Her favorite color. Logan gently sat at the edge of her bed, reaching over and gently shaking her shoulder.
"Hey, sweetie. Time to wake up." He whispered, like he didn't actually want to wake her up. He loved the peacefulness of her expression when she was sleeping. Looked so much like her mother.
His little girl squirmed a bit, whining and trying to pull her blankets over her face. It just made him laugh a bit, softly but firmly pulling the covers back down. She squealed.
"Daddy!! It's cold!!" She exclaimed, trying to reach for the blanket with her eyes still closed.
Logan laughed and grabbed her from her spot, gently pulling her into his lap and holding her tight. "How's this? Daddy's warm, yeah?" He smiled.
She huffed sassily. "Not as warm as the blankies." She argued, and Logan just laughed again. He grabbed the blanket you'd knit her and wrapped her up. "Better, Daddy." She hummed, leaning into him. He stood up off the bed and kept her close.
"You need to go potty?" He asked her as they walked to the bathroom so she could brush her teeth. Never in a million years did he think he'd have a perfect little girl who he was asking to go 'potty', but God did he not care about whatever dumb child lingo he had to use. Especially if it meant less dirty diapers. Ugh. Sometimes the smell was unbearable.
"No!" She said simply, letting him place her on the bathroom sink's counter. He handed her the Bluey themed toothbrush and she frowned. "You do it!" She demanded.
Your words echoed in his head. "She needs to be a little more independent, she can learn to brush her own teeth."
He sucked in a breath. "Why don't ya give it a shot yourself, sweetheart?" He asked, trying to keep his voice from straining. "You have a big girl bed, how 'bout brushing your teeth like a big girl?"
Your little girl just pouted. âNo, Daddy.â She said firmly, baring her little baby toofers. âYou do it.â
His heart strained. Oh her little eyes. They were so cute but she had the same little crease he himself got when he was upset. âOkay, sweetie. Maybe tonight.â He gave in almost immediately. It was pathetic, heâd killed so many people without a second thought, but this little girl had his heart in the palms of her itty bitty hands. Just one look and he was giving in.
He held the little toothbrush and got a small amount of bubblegum toothpaste (she didnât like the âspicyâ kind) and gently held her face while he took care of her teeth for her. She grinned the whole time, very proud of herself for winning once again.
After that ordeal was done, Logan picked her up in the blanket and brought her to the kitchen where eggs and bacon reached his nose. You stood in nothing but Loganâs shirt and very short shorts, yawning while you cooked for your family.
"Mommy!" You heard your child shout, and you looked over your shoulder to see her snuggled up against Logan's hairy chest.
"Good morning, sweetie. Did you brush your teeth?" You asked.
"No! Daddy did it!" She chirped, and Logan smiled rather sheepishly at your unimpressed look.
"You know I can't help it." He sighed, placing her in one of the ranch chairs at the table. He tried to make up for it. "Breakfast smells delicious, honey." Well, he would have said that either way, but it made you smile as you served the food, two egg eyes and a bacon smile.
"There's more if you want seconds." You hummed, sitting down and beginning to eat.
Your daughter freed her arms from the blanket cocoon so she could eat. "Can I feed the horsies today?" She asked happily, pointing to the apples in the fruit bowl.
You and Logan exchanged glances. "'Course, babygirl." Logan said simply. The two horses at the farm were both gentle, but your baby could be pretty loud and scare them. You trusted Logan to keep her safe.
"You have to listen to Daddy and be careful." You warned, really not wanting your baby getting bitten or kicked by a horse.
"Okay, Mommy!" She said, hurriedly finishing her breakfast and was going to go outside.
"Clothes, sweetie." Logan reminded, and she ran back to her room to change. He smiled at you. "She'll be fine, darlin'. I got her."
"I know, I know." You said softly as Logan finished eating and went to change too. The two came back down in matching denim: Logan with jeans and your little girl with overalls.
"Bye Mommy!" She said and ran out, the screen door slamming shut.
"Bye, hon." Logan said with a wink, heading out to spend time with his girl.
i'd love to do a part 2! i probably will, thank u for reading!
#x reader#logan howlett#wolverine#logan howlett x reader#fem!reader#lumberjack logan#wolverine x reader#deadpool and wolverine#dad logan#girl dad logan
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I have been asked to expand on the MC with trauma scenarios, and you know what, I need the comfort, so let's do it! (No these are not based on myself, I don't know what you're talking about....)
Also I've seen a ton of people's responses to the last one and just know that I am spiritually patting you all on the head and wrapping a soft blanket around your shoulders.
--
MC with ~Trauma~ PT 2!
Imagine an MC who has been mocked, berated, or criticized for their joys and hobbies. They don't do those things anymore or go to great lengths to hide them.
They never share their writing or their art with anyone. They are surrounded by demons and angels much more talented than them. The thing that they felt they were moderately talented in is below average compared to these beings... Everything they create is hidden in secret digital folders or kept in notebooks under their mattress or tucked in secret spots on their bookshelves.
They never sing or dance or play their instruments. They almost avoid the music room altogether. It's almost too painful for them to think about. If they attend a dance they just stand off to the sides... They don't participate in karaoke. They don't hum to their favorite songs.
They hardly cook, or garden, or read, or edit, or color, or knit, or crochet, or embroider, or anything else that they might enjoy.
Imagine some of the nosier brothers not realizing the pain that hides behind their passions and either playfully spying on them or digging up their secrets. Their hearts are fully destroyed when their human breaks down in tears. Now, every single day, every character encourages them to do what they love and giving them private time and space to do it in a place where they feel safe. They all hope that maybe one day MC will feel comfortable enough to share what they love with them but they will never pry it out of them, and all the while giving them the support they need behind the curtain.
Imagine Satan, Levi, and Mammon grouping together and creating a PowerPoint presentation. With Satan's organizing skills, Levi's technological know-how, and Mammon's morally grey skills of espionage, they gather all the characters together and teach a class on what to do and not to do around MC. Things like having a clear voice in text messages to keep them from having anxiety. Or not slamming doors, not entering their room without knocking, reminding them to drink water, knowing when to give them time to breathe etc. Everyone takes it seriously (some might say too seriously), including Belphie who didn't even sleep for a second during the whole thing.
What about an MC who takes on too much and never says anything about it? At first, Lucifer, Barbatos, and to a lesser degree Diavolo, are pleased that they've found a human with a strong work ethic and a love for responsibility. Little do they know that while part of that might be true, they are doing it because they are non-confrontational, a people pleaser, or try to prove their worth through success (or all of the above). They burn themselves out and forgo their other needs to conserve all their energy for the work that's been given to them, and it's not until it becomes a serious health issue that anyone really notices. They all take a blow when they come to know how much they had been pushing a human beyond their capabilities. So they tell MC to do less, not expecting the human to try and convince them that it wasn't an issue, maybe even apologizing for failing. Now they all have to keep an eye on MC and make sure they don't take things too far, and make sure that MC knows that their worth isn't tied to how much gets done in a day and they don't think of them any less for taking breaks or time for themselves. And maybe they all learn to take care of themselves a little more for it too. Especially one work-a-holic demon known as Pride.
How about an MC that hates the way they look? No matter what that might be. Body size, shape, height, skin-tone, skin-color, scars, blemishes, freckles, etc. What if it was drilled into their head since they were a child that they were not beautiful? What if they can't look into the mirror or take any photos of themselves without feeling sick? How about being around a demon like Asmo? Maybe resenting him, maybe avoiding him, maybe wishing they were like him. It probably would hurt Asmo to see someone hating themselves and their body so intently. Maybe it's because it reminds him of himself. Maybe they both have to sit down and rethink what beauty really means? It's a long process for both of them.
All of them work with the human with their image and not in a shallow way like trying to deny the things they have and who they are. They find ways around pictures, because there are more ways to keep memories rather than selfies and commemorative photos.
Or what if:
Beel: *In MC's room.* Alright, we'll just do some basic stretches.
MC: Okay, just tell me what to do.
Beel: Well, if you want, you can put on some music to make it more relaxing.
MC: Music? *Looks a little nervous.* If you want...
*MC then turns some music on their phone on the lowest setting and sets it on their bed.*
Beel: Um...you can turn it up more than that if you want.
MC: Louder? Really?
Beel: Don't you think it's a little quiet?
MC: Oh...um...okay... *turns it up by one more click.* Is- Is that okay? I can turn it down again.
Beel: *Opens his mouth, confused for a moment before shutting it again. In the quickest second, he's in his demon form.* Who do I need to find?
MC: B-Beel?!
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ŕ¨ŕ§ â Breathing After the Ashes. 𦹠, âż + ę¤
ę¤ â Character(s) ; Harry J. Potter x Fem!Reader
ę¤ â Synopsis + Wc ; In the quiet after the storm, Harry learns to feel againâthrough stolen touches, whispered truths, and the solace of you. Together, you find warmth in the wreckage, and a reason to hold on. 7.9k
ę¤ â Discretion ; 18+ MDNI! angsty feelings alllll around, some fluff but mostly angstyish, the smut is so gentle and soft!!!!! mostly healing sex between reader & harry, they both need therapy.. penetrative sex! kisses as well đŤĄ
ę¤ â A/n ; this fic is lowkey my child but i also lowkey hate it! wtf! the pacing is kinda awkward and also repetitive bc this is genuinely the longest thing iâve ever written and idk how to deal w it, bare with me i promise ill get better as i go đ i do hope u guys enjoy it somewhat!! reblogs and feedback are so so appreciated đŤśđť
; masterlist.
The Great Hall wasnât the same anymore. The enchanted ceiling still glowed with its usual charm, painted in amber hues that mirrored the late summer sunset, but the light felt muted somehow, swallowed by a weight too stubborn to dissipate. It hung in the air like smoke from a dying fireâbitter, clinging, impossible to outrun.
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, the hum of voices around him blurring into an indistinct murmur. His eyes stayed fixed on his plate, laden with food he didnât remember serving himself: roast chicken, mashed potatoes, a gleaming crescent of gravy. None of it tempted him. The thought of eating made his stomach twist uncomfortably, a dull ache that spread through his chest.
The war was over. Voldemort was gone, his name no longer a curse. This was supposed to be the part where relief set in, where everything hurt a little less. Instead, Harry felt as though he was still wading through the rubble, shoulders bowed under the crushing weight of those who hadnât made it. Colin Creevey. Remus. Tonks. Fred. Their names were a mantra he couldnât stop repeating in his head, their faces seared into his mindâs eye.
His grip on the fork tightened until it dug into his palm, the bite of metal a thin distraction.
âHarry.â Hermioneâs voice was a soft thread that tugged him out of his spiral. He looked up, startled, to find her hand brushing against his arm. Concern clouded her features, her brows knitting together. âYou donât have to stay here. If itâs too much, you canââ
âIâm fine,â he snapped, sharper than he meant to. The words came out like a reflex, cutting her off mid-sentence. Hermione flinched, pulling back her hand, and for a fleeting moment, guilt gnawed at him. But he shoved it down. He didnât want her worry, her pity. He didnât want any of it.
Ron shifted beside him, chewing on a hunk of bread like it was his way out of the tension. He didnât speak, though Harry could feel the sideways glance he shot him. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, until Harry let out a slow, controlled breath and placed his fork on the plate. The metallic clang rang louder than it shouldâve, making him wince.
The scrape of his chair against the floor cut through the noise of the hall as he stood abruptly. âI need some air,â he muttered, already turning away.
He didnât wait for Hermione to protest or Ron to offer some half-hearted comment to fill the space. His feet carried him toward the door, away from the low hum of conversation and clinking dishes. Toward the one place in all of Hogwarts where the noise couldnât follow. Where he could finally, maybe, breathe.
âââââââââââââ
The Astronomy Tower had always been Harryâs escape. Perched high above the rest of the castle, it was the only place where the world felt distant enough to bear. The sprawling grounds stretched out below him, bathed in the purples and blues of dusk, and for a brief moment, the sight eased the tension coiled in his chest. He leaned heavily against the stone railing, its chill biting through his sleeves, and the wind making his already wild hair even messier. It carried the sharp, clean scent of freshly cut grass, grounding him in the present even as his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
The sound of footsteps startled himânot loud, but enough to break the fragile stillness heâd sought. He turned sharply, hand brushing the wand tucked in his pocket, only to pause when a voice cut through the quiet.
âAre you hiding too?â you asked, lingering near the top of the stairs. The dim light softened your features, but it didnât quite mask the curiosity behind your words. There was no malice in your tone, only a quiet humor that made his shoulders drop slightly.
âI wasnât hiding,â Harry said automatically, though even to his ears, the denial sounded weak.
You tilted your head, unconvinced. A faint smile ghosted across your lips, but your eyes remained guarded, unreadable. âRight. Youâre just conveniently up here, avoiding everyone, the same way I am.â
Harry shifted uncomfortably, his fingers brushing the edge of the railing. He didnât respond, unsure how to defend himselfâor if he even wanted to. There was something about the way you stood there, hands loosely at your sides, your voice soft but steady, that caught him off guard. It wasnât pity or prying curiosity, just⌠understanding. Like you could see the weight pressing down on him and felt no need to ask what it was. Like maybe you carried some of it yourself.
He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking back to the horizon. âI guess youâre not.. wrong.ââ
You stepped closer with quiet purpose, each movement deliberate, as though gauging the fragile equilibrium of Harryâs silence. He didnât flinch or shift away, didnât so much as glance at you. His gaze stayed locked on the horizon, but you could feel the weight of his awareness, the way the air between you seemed to hold its breath. When you finally stopped beside him at the railing, the stillness wasnât stifling. It was tentative, balanced, as though it might shatter if either of you spoke too loudly.
âIt doesnât feel like the same place, does it?â Your voice was soft, your eyes fixed on the horizon as the last threads of sunlight dissolved into the hills. The sky deepened into shades of indigo and amber, blurring the edges of the world.
Harry nodded, though the motion felt stiff, half-hearted. âNo,â he said, but the word came out hollow, too small to carry the weight behind it.
You leaned forward on the railing, fingers brushing the cool stone. âItâs strange,â you murmured, more to the sky than to him. âYou think coming back will fix things, like the castle will just⌠feel the same. Like being here should make it easier. But it doesnât. Itâs all still different.â
Harry turned his head slightly, his gaze catching yours out of the corner of his eye. He didnât mean to linger, but your words struck something raw, something he hadnât managed to put into words. Youâd said it so simply, yet it was exactly what had been clawing at him for months.
âYeah,â he said quietly. âItâs not the same.â
Your eyes flicked to him, your expression unreadable. âAnd neither are you.â
The observation hit like a hex, sharper than youâd probably meant it to. Harryâs jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists against the stone. âNobody is,â he said, his voice low and edged with a bitterness he didnât entirely mean to direct at you.
But you didnât flinch. You didnât back away or apologize for the truth in your words. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, a flicker of understanding softening your tone. âI didnât mean it as a bad thing,â you said, your voice gentler now. âWar changes people. It has to.â
He wanted to argue, to say something sharp and deflective, but the words caught in his throat. Because you werenât wrong. He wasnât the same person who had fought his way out of the Chamber of Secrets or stood in front of the Mirror of Erised. He wasnât sure who he was nowâjust that he wasnât enough.
The silence stretched again, but this time it felt different. Not heavy, not empty, but something quieter, more bearable. Your arm brushed his lightly as you leaned forward on the railing, the contact fleeting yet somehow electric. He stiffened, his pulse jolting unexpectedly, and he waited for you to pull away. But you didnât.
âYou donât have to talk about it,â you said after a moment, your voice low, steady. âI just thought you might not want to be alone. Sometimes it helps.â
He swallowed, his throat dry, and tried to muster some kind of response. He wanted to tell you he didnât need anyone, that he was fineâhad always been fineâon his own. But the words wouldnât come. Maybe because they werenât true.
âThanks,â he said eventually, his voice barely audible, as though saying it too loudly might break whatever fragile thing had settled between you.
Your lips curved into the faintest smile, one that felt less like triumph and more like an offering. You leaned back against the railing, gaze lifting to the stars beginning to scatter across the night sky. They blinked faintly in the deepening dark, small points of light that somehow didnât feel so far away.
For the first time in weeksâmonths, maybeâHarry let the tension in his chest ease just a little. The world still felt impossibly heavy, but next to you, it didnât feel so crushing.
Maybe you were right. Maybe not being alone did help.
âââââââââââââ
The two of you stayed there, side by side, the silence between you settling into something quieter, more natural. Harryâs hands curled around the cold stone of the railing, the familiar feel grounding him as his eyes traced the lines of the grounds below. The weight on his chest hadnât vanished, not completely, but your presence dulled its sharp edges, made it something he could carry, if only for a little while.
âYou donât talk much, do you?â Your voice cut through the stillnessânot loud, not accusing, just curious.
Harry turned his head toward you, startled by the observation. But you werenât looking at him. Your gaze stayed on the horizon, your features lit faintly by the glow of the rising stars.
He shrugged, the motion small, self-contained. âGuess I donât have much to say.â
You hummed softly, the sound low and thoughtful, almost like you were agreeing with him. âSometimes itâs easier that way,â you murmured. âLess to explain.â
His grip on the railing tightened, knuckles pressing white against the stone. He wanted to ask how you could say something like that, how you seemed to know exactly what he was thinking when he hadnât even said it aloud. But he didnât. He couldnât. Some part of him was afraid that asking might shatter whatever strange, fragile understanding hung between you.
âNot everyone sees it that way,â he muttered instead. âMost people just want me to talk. Like if I say something, itâll fix everything.â
You turned your head then, and he felt your gaze settle on himâsteady, unflinching, impossible to avoid. âThey probably think itâll make them feel better,â you said, your voice calm but edged with certainty.
Harry blinked, the words landing harder than he expected. He hadnât thought about it like that before, but of course, you were right. People didnât just want him to be okayâthey needed it. They needed Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, to be fine so they could tell themselves that things might still go back to the way they were.
âBut itâs not about them,â you added, your tone softening just slightly, as though youâd noticed the way his jaw tightened. âItâs about you.â
The words struck something deep, loosening a knot he hadnât realized had been pulling him taut all day. He turned to look at you fully now, his gaze searching your face for something he couldnât name. But you werenât watching him like everyone else did. There was no pity in your expression, no awkwardness. Just quiet understanding.
âWhy are you up here?â he asked, the question spilling out before he had time to think better of it. He didnât want to talk about himself anymore, didnât want to keep peeling open wounds that hadnât even begun to heal.
You hesitated, just for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to answer. Then your lips quirked into a faint smileâtired, almost self-deprecating. âGuess I needed to get away too. Being around people all the time⌠itâs exhausting.â
He nodded slowly. That, at least, he didnât need explained. The noise, the questions, the endless parade of looks that didnât ask but expectedâit was suffocating. Up here, though, the castle below felt distant enough to forget, just for a little while.
âItâs different up here,â he said after a pause, though he wasnât sure heâd meant to say it out loud.
You glanced at him again, your expression softer now, as though something in his words had shifted the space between you.
âIâm glad youâre here,â he added quietly, surprising himself with the honesty of it.
You blinked, tilting your head like you hadnât expected it either. âYeah?â
âYeah.â
And for the first time in what felt like forever, the tension in his chest eased, just a fraction. Whatever warmth flickered there wasnât tied to the war or his title or anything heâd done to save the world. It wasnât about being Harry Potter. It was just you.
You gave him a small, knowing smile, and for a moment, the weight of everything slipped from Harryâs shoulders. The ghosts quieted, the endless expectations faded, and the hollow ache that lived in his chest dulled just enough. Up here, with you beside him, the rest of the world felt far away, like it couldnât reach him.
âIâll take that as a compliment,â you said lightly, leaning back against the railing, arms folding across your chest. The breeze stirred your hair, the faint scent of pine and earth clinging to it, and Harry found himself watching the way the dim light softened your features.
âThe Boy Who Lived doesnât strike me as someone who needs anyone.â
Harryâs lips quirked into a faint smirk, but the warmth of it didnât quite reach his eyes. âIs that what people think?â
You tilted your head, considering. âPeople think all sorts of things about you. Half of itâs probably rubbish.â
That drew a soft laugh from him, low and unexpected. The sound sat strangely in his chest, but it didnât feel unwelcome. âYouâre probably right.â
You glanced at him then, head tilted, your gaze curious but not intrusive. It wasnât the sharp, prying look he was used to, the one that demanded answers or apologies or pieces of him he didnât have to give. Instead, it was quieter, like you were searching for something without expecting him to offer it. Harry shifted under the weight of it, his fingers curling tighter around the railing, but before he could say anything, you spoke again.
âSometimes I think people forget youâre just⌠human.â
The words caught him off guard, sinking into him like a stone dropped into water. You didnât say it with pity or reverenceâjust a soft kind of honesty that made his breath catch. It was like you werenât talking to Harry Potter, the Chosen One, but just Harry, the boy standing beside you on a cold, quiet night.
For a moment, he couldnât respond. The silence between you stretched, filled with a thousand things he wanted to say but couldnât find the words for. âSometimes I forget that too,â he said finally, the confession slipping out before he could stop it. His voice was barely audible, and yet it felt louder than anything heâd said in months. âItâs like⌠if Iâm not fighting or fixing something, I donât know who Iâm supposed to be.â
You turned to face him fully now, your expression soft but steady. âMaybe you donât have to figure that out right now,â you said. âMaybe itâs okay to just⌠be.â
The simplicity of it stunned him. Just be. As though it were that easy. As though he could strip himself of everything he carried and exist without purpose or expectation. Harryâs grip on the railing tightened. âI donât know if I even know how to do that anymore.â
âMaybe you donât have to do it alone.â
The words hung in the air between you, weightless and heavy all at once. Harryâs gaze lifted to meet yours, his heart stumbling in his chest. You werenât looking at him the way most people did, like he was a puzzle to solve or a hero to rely on. You were looking at him like he was⌠enough.
He swallowed, his throat dry. âWhy are you being so nice to me?â
Your lips curved into a soft smile, but there was something in your eyesâsomething faintly sad and yet unwavering. âBecause I think you need it.â
The knot in his chest twisted, a sharp ache he hadnât felt in years threatening to rise to the surface. He blinked hard, pushing it back, refusing to let it crack him open. Not here. Not now.
His hand moved almost without thinking, brushing against yours where it rested on the stone. It was a light touch, tentative and fleeting, but enough to send a jolt through him. He froze, half expecting you to pull away, to retreat the way everyone else eventually did.
But you didnât.
The touch lingered, delicate and unspoken, neither of you pulling away. It wasnât an accident, nor was it intentional in a way that required words. It just was, the kind of quiet moment Harry didnât know how to nameâsimple, yet heavy with meaning. His gaze dropped to your hand, where your fingers just barely grazed his, and something unfamiliar stirred in him, warm and disorienting.
âIâm not used to this,â he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. The night breeze nearly carried them away, but you heard him.
You turned your head, curiosity softening your expression. âUsed to what?â
âSomeone just⌠being here.â He let out a dry laugh, short and humorless, as if mocking himself. âMost people either avoid me or expect something.â
Your fingers shifted, brushing his more firmly, the subtle movement grounding him. âI donât expect anything, Harry.â
His name, spoken so gently, without expectation or weightâit shouldnât have struck him the way it did. But it lodged in his chest, the simplicity of it making his stomach twist. You werenât trying to be anything other than honest, and somehow that made it worse.
He looked at you then, really looked at you. The moonlight played across your features, softening the edges, casting faint shadows against your skin. Your gaze met his and didnât waver, holding steady in a way that made his chest tighten. There was something solid about you, something he couldnât explain but couldnât deny either. An anchor, maybe, in a world that had only ever felt like chaos.
âI donât know how toâŚâ The sentence faltered, crumbling before it could finish. Harry shook his head slightly, as if that might hide his frustration. How to what, exactly? Let someone in? Say what he was feeling? Be himself again?
âYou donât have to explain anything,â you said, like you could read his mind. Your voice was low, steady, but kind. âI meant it. You donât have to do this alone. Whatever this is.â
A lump rose in his throat, the kind that tightened every word into silence, but he nodded, managing a quiet, âThanks.â It felt small, inadequate, but you didnât seem to mind. You just gave him a smileâsmall but warm, like the kind of light you donât notice until it chases away the dark.
For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence wrapped around you, not heavy or cold, but something softer now. Warm, even. Harry let himself sink into it, his shoulders easing, his usual tension slipping away bit by bit. He glanced down at the grounds, the glow of the castle windows below casting long, soft shadows over the grass.
âDo you ever think about leaving?â you asked suddenly, your voice breaking the quiet but not shattering it.
Harry blinked, caught off guard. âLeaving Hogwarts?â
You nodded. âYeah. Just⌠walking away. Starting over somewhere far from all of this.â
He hesitated, the idea catching him in a way he wasnât expecting. The thought of leaving everythingâthis castle, its whispers, the weight of who he was supposed to beâwas both terrifying and strangely tempting. To go somewhere he could just be Harry, without the war, without the name, without the constant pull of the past.
âSometimes,â he admitted, the word quiet but honest. âBut⌠I donât think I could. I donât know who Iâd be without all of this.â
You nodded, like you understood. âMaybe thatâs something you figure out with time.â
There was no judgment in your voice, just patience, and that startled him more than the question itself. Harry turned to look at you, searching your face for something he couldnât name. You werenât pushing him. You werenât rushing him to have answers he didnât have. And somehow, that made him ache.
âWhat about you?â he asked, the words coming out before he could stop them. âWould you leave?â
Your smile was faint, wistful, like the question had passed through you a thousand times already. âI think about it. But I always come back to the same answer.â You paused, your gaze slipping to the horizon. âI donât think running away fixes anything.â
He nodded slowly, letting the words sink in. âYeah. Youâre probably right.â
You laughed softly, and the sound caught him by surprise. It wasnât loud, but it was real, and it made something in his chest ease. âOnly probably?â
The corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile finally breaking through. âFine. Youâre definitely right.â
âThere you go,â you teased, your tone lighter now. âSee? That wasnât so hard.â
It was strange how the conversation shifted, how the tension between you melted into something easier. Lighter. For the first time in longer than he could remember, Harry felt himself relax into the moment, his guard lowering just enough to let the night and your presence settle over him. For once, the weight on his shoulders didnât feel so crushing. For once, the world outside the two of you could wait.
âââââââââââââ
The hours blurred together, the sky above deepening into a velvety indigo scattered with stars. The castle had fallen silent, the faint hum of voices and clatter of dishes from the Great Hall fading into memory. You hadnât moved far from him, and Harry found himself noticingâreally noticingâhow the quiet didnât feel oppressive anymore. It wasnât heavy or suffocating. It was just⌠there. And for the first time in what felt like forever, it was bearable.
When you turned to him, your gaze was steady, searching but not invasive. âDo you think youâll ever feel normal again?â
The question caught him off guard. It wasnât laced with pity or weighed down with expectationâit was just honest. Simple. It twisted something inside him all the same. Harry swallowed hard, the knot in his chest pulling tighter.
âI donât know what normal is,â he admitted, his voice low, like he was confessing something fragile to the night itself. âMaybe I.. never really did.â
You nodded, like that answer didnât surprise you. Like it wasnât the wrong one. âI think a lot of us feel that way.â
You didnât push, didnât prod for more, and thatâmore than anythingâmade him want to keep going.
âWhen it endedâŚâ He trailed off, his eyes dropping to his hands on the railing. They looked unfamiliar, scarred and pale against the stone. âI thought it would stop. The hurt. I thought Iâd feel relieved.â His jaw tightened, and the next words slipped out like they had been waiting for years. âBut it didnât. And now I donât know if it ever will.â
The admission hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Harryâs fingers curled against the railing, the cold bite of the stone grounding him. He didnât look at youâhe couldnât. He didnât know what heâd see in your eyes, and some part of him was afraid of it.
âYou lost so much,â you said softly, your voice steady but laced with something achingly gentle. âItâs okay to feel like that. No one expects you to just move on.â
Harry let out a hollow laugh, bitter and quiet. âEveryone expects me to be fine. To be Harry Potter, the one who saved everyone.â He gestured vaguely to himself, his voice cracking under the weight of it. âThey donât want to see this. Whatever this is.â
âI do,â you said, your voice unwavering.
The words hit him like a punch to the chest, knocking the air clean out of him. His head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours. There was no hesitation in your expression, no doubt. Just quiet sincerity, so clear and certain it left him breathless.
âWhy?â The question fell from his lips before he could stop it.
You shrugged, a faint, bittersweet smile curving your lips. âBecause⌠youâre more than what everyone sees. And because I think you deserve someone who doesnât just want the shiny bits of you.â
Harry stared at you, his chest tightening painfully. He didnât know how to respond, didnât know how to process something so simple yet staggering. No one had ever said anything like that to him beforeâat least, not in a way that felt this real.
The air between you shifted, heavier now, like it was carrying something unspoken, something fragile but undeniable. You werenât touching, but Harry could still feel the warmth of you beside him, like a presence he didnât want to lose. His heart pounded harder, the sound of it loud in his ears.
âI donât think I deserve it,â he said quietly, his voice barely audible.
Your brows knit together, a flicker of sadness crossing your face, but you didnât look away. Instead, you stepped closer, close enough that he could see the faint curve of your lashes, the soft press of your lips. âI think you do.â
Harry inhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the railing as you moved into his space. His pulse thundered, and his mind raced with the weight of the moment, with how close you were, with the quiet pull of something he wasnât sure he had the strength to reach for.
âI donât want to screw this up,â he whispered, the words raw and fractured.
âYou wonât,â you said softly, your voice steady but kind. âBut you donât have to decide anything right now.â
His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, and he felt something shift in himâlike a thread unraveling after being pulled too tight for too long. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers brushing yours again.
This time, you didnât just let the touch linger. You let your fingers twine with his, warm and certain, the weight of it enough to crack the walls heâd been holding up for so long.
Harryâs breath hitched as your fingers laced with his, the touch so simple yet carrying the weight of something he didnât quite know how to name. It sent a ripple through himâa warmth that started in his chest and spread outward, leaving a faint ache in its wake. His grip tightened slightly, hesitant but sure, and he drew in a shaky breath, trying to ground himself in the moment.
You didnât push him, didnât say a word. You just stayed there, steady and close, your thumb brushing softly over the back of his hand. The stars above blurred into the edges of his vision, the castle fading into shadow. The world narrowed until it was only you, your touch, and the quiet hum of something unspoken between you.
âI donât know how to do this,â he admitted, his voice low and uneven. His green eyes searched yours, wide and vulnerable in a way that made his chest feel both too tight and too open. âI donât know how to let myself⌠feel like this.â
You didnât flinch or pull back. Instead, you gave him a small, steady smile, your free hand lifting, hovering just near his arm, a silent question. âYou donât have to know how. You just have to let it happen.â
Harry exhaled, shaky and raw, but didnât pull away. If anything, he leaned closer, his forehead almost brushing yours. His heart pounded so loudly it drowned out everything else, but for once, he didnât care. He was tired of holding himself together, of keeping everyone out, of pretending he didnât need this.
And then, almost instinctively, he closed the space between you.
The kiss was gentle, hesitant, like he was afraid of breaking something fragile. Or maybe breaking himself. But the moment your hand slid to his cheek, grounding him, something inside him unraveled. He pressed deeper into the kiss, his other hand rising to rest lightly at your waist. It wasnât desperate or hurriedâit was slow, deliberate, filled with everything he couldnât put into words.
Your fingers threaded into his hair, pulling him closer, and Harry felt something crack open in his chest. It wasnât pain, but a kind of aching relief, as though heâd been holding his breath for years and was finally allowed to exhale. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasnât drowning.
When you finally pulled back, your breaths mingling in the cool night air, Harry didnât go far. His forehead rested lightly against yours, his hand still at your waist, his fingers curling slightly against the fabric as though afraid you might disappear if he let go.
âSorry,â he murmured, though there was no regret in his voice, only uncertainty. âI⌠I didnât mean toââ
âDonât apologize,â you interrupted, your voice soft but certain. Your hand slid down to rest over his chest, where his heart still raced beneath your touch. âYou didnât do anything wrong.â
A quiet laugh slipped from him, more a sigh than anything else. âIâm not used to this.â
âNeither am I,â you admitted, your fingers tracing small, absent shapes against the fabric of his shirt. âBut.. I think weâre allowed to have this. Even after everything.â
Your words settled deep in his chest, heavy and grounding in a way that didnât feel like a burden. He didnât know if he fully believed youânot yetâbut for the first time, he wanted to. He wanted to let himself try, to let himself have this, even if it scared him.
âStay,â he said quietly, the word barely above a whisper. It wasnât a question. It was a plea.
Your lips curved into a small, tender smile, and you nodded. âIâm not going anywhere.â
âââââââââââââ
The space between you thrummed with tension, the kind that wasnât uncomfortable but electric, alive with everything unspoken. Harryâs hand lingered at your waist, the tips of his fingers brushing against the fabric of your shirt, hesitant but wanting. His other hand gripped the railing behind you, steadying himself as he leaned in, his lips hovering just shy of yours. Your heart pounded, loud enough to drown out the quiet of the night.
You didnât pull away. Instead, you tilted closer, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt, clutching the soft cotton as though it might keep you tethered. His breath ghosted over your lips, warm and uneven, and when he kissed you again, it was different this timeâno hesitation, no doubt.
It started slow, the way it had before, soft and searching. But when you pressed closer, your body molding against his, something inside him gave way. The kiss deepened, shifting into something more urgent, more unrestrained, as if the careful control he had been holding onto had finally slipped. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, and for a moment, nothing else existed but the heat between you.
Your hands slid up his chest, fingers trailing over the steady thrum of his heartbeat. He felt so solid beneath your palms, so real, and yet the way he kissed you was anything but careful. Your hands found his shoulders, clutching tightly as he kissed you harder, his need for you palpable. One of his hands left the railing to thread through your hair, his fingers tangling there with a kind of reverence that sent a shiver down your spine.
The rough stone at your back was cool, grounding, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of Harryâs body pressed against yours. He seemed to be everywhere at once, overwhelming in the best way.
âIs this okay?â he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and unsteady.
You nodded quickly, your breath catching as he kissed you again, more certain this time. âYes,â you managed to whisper, your voice trembling. Your fingers slid to the nape of his neck, brushing against the soft, slightly damp strands of his hair. âMore than okay.â
That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips left yours, trailing down along your jaw, slow and deliberate. When he reached the curve of your neck, the heat of his breath against your skin sent a spark shooting through you, and you couldnât stop the quiet sound that escaped your lips.
The noise seemed to break something in him. His hand slid lower, from your waist to your hip, his thumb grazing the bare skin just above the waistband of your jeans. His name slipped from your lips without thinking, and Harry groaned softly, the sound reverberating against your throat. He pressed you more firmly against the railing, his body bracketing yours as though he wanted to block out the rest of the world.
His mouth continued its path along the line of your throat, slow and reverent, stopping just above the collar of your shirt. Every kiss left a trail of fire in its wake, every touch pulling you deeper into him.
âTell me ifââ he started, his voice hoarse and uneven, but you cut him off, your hands gripping his shirt to pull him back up to kiss you again. This time, you were the one who deepened it, letting him feel the weight of everything you couldnât say. He responded instantly, his hands roaming over your waist, your hips, your back, as though trying to memorize the shape of you.
You broke the kiss only when you couldnât breathe, your forehead resting against his as you whispered, âNot here.â
Harry froze for a moment, his breath heavy against your lips, his eyes locked on yours. They were dark, intense, filled with something raw and vulnerable. You half-expected him to hesitate, but instead, he nodded, his hand sliding down to find yours. His grip was warm, firm, and steady, like it was the only thing anchoring him.
âCome on,â he said quietly, his voice low and sure.
You didnât need to ask where. You just followed, your hand in his, trusting him completely.
âââââââââââââ
Harry led you through the castleâs dim corridors, his hand steady in yours. The silence wasnât awkwardâit buzzed with anticipation, each step echoing softly against the stone walls. His grip was firm but gentle, grounding you in the moment, though the occasional brush of his thumb against your skin sent a quiet thrill through you, making it harder to focus on anything but him.
He didnât tell you where he was taking you, and you didnât ask. You trusted him completely.
When he stopped, it was outside an empty classroom near the Charms corridor. The door creaked softly as he pushed it open, revealing a quiet space bathed in silvery moonlight pouring through tall, arched windows. The room was unremarkable, desks and chairs pushed to the sides, but it felt secludedâsafe. A haven away from the weight of everything outside.
Harry let go of your hand only to close the door behind you, locking it with a flick of his wand. The soft click echoed in the stillness, and your pulse quickened as he turned back to face you. His gaze met yours, sharp and intense, and for a moment, you felt frozen under the weight of it.
âIs this okay?â he asked, his voice low, almost uncertain.
You didnât answer with words. Instead, you stepped forward, your hands finding the front of his shirt again, pulling him down into a kiss that left no room for doubt. His lips met yours hungrily, and his hands found your waist, anchoring you against him. This time, there was no hesitation in the way he held you, his touch firm but reverent, like heâd been waiting for this moment as long as you had.
The kiss deepened quickly, the tension that had simmered between you all night spilling over like floodwaters. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, his body pressed against yours like he couldnât bear even a breath of space between you. Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward, and he broke the kiss only long enough to let you pull it over his head, the fabric falling to the floor.
Your gaze drifted over his chest, tracing the faint scars etched across his skin, each one a reminder of everything heâd endured. The moonlight highlighted every line, every curve of muscle, and for a moment, he looked vulnerableâunsure. His chest rose and fell quickly, his nerves evident, but you didnât let him linger there.
Your fingers brushed over his scars, soft and deliberate, and you leaned in to kiss him again. He melted into it, his hesitance replaced by a quiet urgency as his hands slid to your hips. His lips left yours to trail down your jaw, finding your neck, his kisses slow and infused with something akin to hunger. The heat of his mouth against your skin made you shiver, your breath catching as his fingers found the hem of your shirt and lifted it.
You raised your arms to let him pull it off, and when he stepped back just slightly, his gaze lingered on you in the moonlight, reverent and full of something raw that made warmth bloom low in your stomach.
âYouâre incredible,â he murmured, his voice barely audible, as though he wasnât sure he was allowed to say it aloud.
Before you could respond, he kissed you again, his hands wandering your sides and back, like he was mapping every inch of you. You barely noticed the edge of a desk pressing into the backs of your thighs as he guided you backward, his movements growing bolder with each passing moment.
Your fingers drifted down his chest, following the ridges of his muscles until they found the waistband of his jeans. You worked the button free, and Harry let out a low groan, his forehead dropping to yours, his breath warm against your lips.
âAre you sure?â he asked, his voice strained, his green eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart stumble.
âIâm sure,â you whispered, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of nerves and desire coursing through you. âI want this. I want you.â
Something in his expression shifted, the raw emotion behind his gaze making your chest ache. He kissed you again, slower this time, as though he was trying to pour every unsaid word, every feeling he couldnât name, into the press of his lips.
His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you onto the desk with ease. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, the warmth of him against you making your breath hitch. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered sound felt all-consuming, pulling you deeper into him.
The world outside disappeared. There was no war, no expectations, no fear. Just Harryâthe feel of his hands, the heat of his mouth, the quiet way he murmured your name like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight you both carried didnât matter. In this moment, there was nothing but the two of you, and that was enough.
Harryâs hands gripped your thighs firmly, his touch grounding and electric all at once. His kisses grew hungrier, more insistent, his mouth moving against yours like heâd been holding back for far too long. The edge of the desk pressed into your back, but the slight discomfort melted away beneath the heat of his body pressing against yours. Everything about himâhis hands, his lips, the low, ragged sounds he madeâconsumed you entirely.
Your fingers worked at the top of his jeans, fumbling slightly in your haste. Harry groaned softly against your mouth as you finally managed to pull them down, his breath hitching sharply when your hands slipped below the waistband of his boxers brushing against the heated skin just above his throbbing length. His hips jerked slightly at the contact, and the sound that escaped his lips was low and guttural, sending a rush of heat spiraling through you.
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. His green eyes were dark, heavy-lidded, and filled with something raw that made your pulse stutter. His hands slid to your hips, fingers brushing against the hem of your jeans. âCan I?â he asked, his voice low and rough, barely steady.
âPlease,â you breathed, lifting your hips to help him.
His gaze stayed locked on you as he slid your jeans down, the fabric brushing against your skin in a way that left you shivering. The look in his eyes made your breath catchâa mixture of reverence and want, like he couldnât quite believe you were real. His hands trembled slightly as he tossed the jeans aside, and the way his gaze raked over you, slow and deliberate, made warmth bloom low in your stomach.
âYouâreâŚâ He trailed off, his words faltering as his eyes met yours again. He didnât need to finish the sentence; the intensity in his expression said everything his voice couldnât.
You reached for him, pulling him closer until his bare chest pressed against yours. The heat of his skin against yours sent a shiver through you, and when his hands slid back to your thighs, parting them just slightly, you gasped quietly. His lips found yours again, slower this time, deeper. Each kiss was deliberate, filled with a need that made your whole body tremble.
One of his hands slipped between your legs, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your underwear. The touch was tentative at first, testing, but when a soft moan slipped from your lips, his confidence grew. His fingers pressed more firmly, tracing the heat of you through the fabric, and you arched into his touch instinctively, the sensation overwhelming.
âGod, youâre soââ Harry broke off with a groan, his free hand gripping your thigh tightly as you rolled your hips against his hand. His breathing was unsteady now, ragged and uneven. âYouâre perfect.â
The words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making your pulse race. You reached for him, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers, finally pulling the restrictive barrier between the two of you down. His forehead dropped to your shoulder as your hand wrapped around him, the heat and weight of him making your own breath falter. He let out a strangled moan, his hips rocking instinctively into your touch.
âWait,â he murmured, his voice tight, like he was holding on to the last threads of control. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands trembling as they moved to your waist. âI want toâcan Iââ
You nodded quickly, your cheeks warm, reaching for him again to help guide his length inside you. The desk creaked faintly as he stepped closer, his hands finding your hips as he lined himself up with you. He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the world stilled.
âAre you sure?â he asked, his voice softer this time, steady but full of emotion.
âYes,â you whispered, your voice sure despite the nerves and anticipation rushing through you. âI want this, Harry. I want youâall of you.â
That was all he needed.
Harry leaned in, his lips finding yours again as he pushed forward, slow and purposeful. The initial stretch made you tense, your fingers instinctively tightening against his shoulders. But then his breath brushed warm against your cheek, and the soft, shaky sound he let out as he slid deeper sent a ripple through you, easing the tension and replacing it with something else entirelyâsomething that left you breathless.
âYou okay?â he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours. His voice was tight, laced with restraint, and it made your heart ache in the best way.
âYes,â you whispered, your nails digging lightly into his skin as your body adjusted to him. âJust⌠donât stop.â
His jaw tightened, and he nodded, his hands trembling slightly where they gripped your waist. He started to move, his hips rolling in a slow, achingly delicious rhythm that made your breath catch. Each motion sent a wave of heat building steadily through you, your body arching instinctively toward his as though you couldnât get close enough.
âGod,â he groaned, the sound rough and raw as it left him. His hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you slightly to meet his thrusts, and the shift made you gasp. Your head fell back against the desk as the new angle sent a spark shooting through you. âYou feel soââ
The rest of his words broke off into a low curse, his lips finding your neck again as his movements quickened. The world beyond the room ceased to existâthe only things that mattered were the soft creak of the desk beneath you, the heat of his body against yours, and the quiet, desperate noises that escaped him with every thrust.
Your hips tilted to meet his rhythm, and the friction left you dizzy, sparks lighting beneath your skin. Your hands slid into his hair, tangling in the messy strands as his face buried in the curve of your shoulder. His breath was hot against your skin, and each groan that escaped his lips sent a shiver coursing down your spine, your body arching into his as the pressure low in your belly coiled tighter.
âHarry,â you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips like a plea, raw and unrestrained. His response was a groan that seemed to echo through you, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his touch almost possessive as he pulled you closer.
âYouâre gorgeous,â he murmured, the words rough against your skin, reverent and awed. His voice broke slightly as he added, âIâI canâtâŚâ
âDonât hold back,â you whispered, your voice trembling but sure. Your hands slid down his back, clutching at his waist to anchor yourself. âIâm here. Iâve got you.â
For a brief moment, his pace faltered, his forehead pressing against yours as though grounding himself in the moment. And then he kissed you again, hard and desperate, his lips crashing into yours as though he needed you more than air. His rhythm grew uneven, each thrust deeper, more precise, until the tension inside you snapped.
The wave that crashed over you left you trembling, your body shuddering in his arms as the heat and intensity overwhelmed you. His name slipped from your lips again, barely audible, as you clung to him.
Moments later, Harry followed, his movements faltering as he buried himself in you one final time. A low, guttural sound escaped his lips as he trembled against you, his forehead dropping to yours. His breaths came fast and ragged, his chest heaving as he held you close, his hands gripping your hips as though afraid to let go.
For a long time, neither of you moved. The room was silent except for the soft hum of your breathing, the faint rustle of fabric as Harry shifted, wrapping his arms more securely around you. He pulled you close, his body still trembling faintly, and you rested your head against his shoulder, your fingers tracing aimless patterns across his back.
âAre you okay?â he asked after a moment, his voice hoarse but filled with quiet concern.
A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you tilted your head just enough to brush a kiss against his neck. âMore than okay,â you whispered.
Harry let out a quiet laugh, low and warm, his arms tightening around you. âMe too,â he murmured, his lips brushing lightly against your temple.
Finally, for what seemed like an eternity. Everything felt right, it felt okay. Like harry could just..exist again.
ďš@ đšđđşđźđđźđ ďš
#â.â đťđ˛đ đźđť đđľđ˛ đđľđ˛đšđł#harry potter#harry potter fluff#harry potter x reader#harry james potter x reader#harry potter x you#harry james potter x you#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fandom#harry potter smut#harry james potter x reader smut#.1đđľđźđđ đ¤
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Hi! Could you write an alpha prof!remus x omega reader in heat. He gets her to his office after lessons to offer help and she agrees to spend the night( breeding kink)
Masterlist AO3
Alpha, please.
Summary - You are an omega about to experience her first heat. Professor Lupin offers to help and you end up getting railed in the Shrieking Shack (3,416 words).
Warnings - teacher/student relationship, omega verse, alpha!remus, omega!reader, breeding kink, unprotected sex, dubious consent because reader not very in control, age gap, my grammar (english is not my first language), not proof read.
Notes - Throwing this here and RUNNING AWAY. I am SO sorry for the delay, I was hit by a bus (jk lol i'm just burnt out). On a serious note, this was my first time ever writing something in the Omegaverse. Sorry if it sucks :( Thank you to everyone for your patience. I will eventually get to your request!
He noticed your scent before noticing you- a wave of pure, unadulterated omega scent that struck him like a physical blow, a visceral assault on his senses. The classroom, usually a blend of various scents, was now entirely dominated by this scent. Your scent, one of an omega on the cusp of her first heat yet blissfully unaware of it but one that Remus, an alpha, sensed with every fibre of his being. It was rich, sweet, intoxicating, awakening a primal need he had learned to control years ago. An almost uncontrollable need to own, to mark, to protect, to make his.Â
As an alpha, the presence of an unclaimed omega, especially one as evidently oblivious to their own nature as you, was concerning. Why were you there without suppressants? How could you not know what was about to happen to you? It was dangerous. Both for you and for any other alpha around, yet there you were, looking as calm and serene as if it were just another day.Â
You took a seat at the front of the class, your eyes glued to him. He was tall, commanding, exuding the authority and confidence of an alpha and you hated to admit how much it drew you in. Deep down, you were not interested in following the traditional roles of your status. You didn't want to submit to anyone. The thought alone filled you with dread...except right now.Â
The class began and Remus found himself incapable of focusing on his carefully prepared lecture, distracted by the powerful need for something he didn't even allow himself to entertain. It was like all his senses were heightened. He could hear everything, feel everything. Too much.Â
The lecture drew to a close, and you began to slowly pack up your belongings, your mind unconsciously reluctant to part from your professor. He made you feel so-Â
"Y/N, may I have a word with you before you leave?" Remus asked. His voice was calm but it held an underlying urgency that he hoped you wouldn't notice.Â
You looked up to him, your eyes wide and innocent, and in that moment, it felt like you would've done anything this man asked you. What was wrong with you?Â
"Yes, Professor Lupin?"
He cleared his throat, attempting to appear casual.Â
"Y/N, I... uh, I need to discuss something somewhat personal with you, and I apologize for the discomfort," he began.Â
Your brows knitted in confusion, your posture tense. "Something personal, Professor?"Â
He paused, gathering his thoughts, carefully selecting his next words. "I've noticed...that is, I've sensed...that you might be approaching a significant time that's inherent to your nature as an omega."Â
Your expression shifted from confusion to embarrassment, unsure where he was going with this. "I- I'm not sure to understand, Professor... what do you mean?"Â
Remus hesitated, his instincts as an alpha to protect and take charge clashing with his respect for you and your autonomy. "It seems that uh... you're about to experience your first heat, Y/N. It's a critical time for an omega, and it can be very dangerous if you're not prepared or aware."Â
Your eyes widened, your embarrassment escalating into fear. "My first heat? But... I- I didn't know... I thought I had more time before... before that happened," you admitted shyly.Â
Remus nodded, trying to appear comforting despite the turmoil raging within him. "It's unpredictable at times, especially the first one," he assured you. "It's imperative that you have a safe place and proper care during this period, especially considering that... well I assume, considering you haven't been on any suppressants."Â
You looked away, uncomfortable. "No... no I haven't."
"That's okay. That's why I'm offering to help. I can provide a safe place for you, ensure that you have what you need to get through this safely. It's not ideal... but I cannot, in good conscience, let you face this alone."Â
You suddenly wanted this very much, despite your habit of fighting your inner nature at every turn- no. You were not going to be a weak, vulnerable omega who needed an alpha to protect her. You could manage. You would manage. This was no big deal.Â
"I can handle it myself, Professor," you said, trying to sound confident but failing pretty miserably.Â
"I understand, but I assure you, my intentions are solely to offer protection and support. I wouldn't suggest this if there weren't a genuine need."Â
At that moment, you weren't sure if he was just very good at being persuasive, or if your pathetic omega nature begged you to bend to his "protection".Â
"Are you sure?" the question coming out more as a challenge.Â
"Yes, I am. It's my responsibility as your professor and as an alpha to ensure you're safe," he affirmed.Â
"O-okay, fine."Â
"Just come to my quarters at the end of the day. I'll have everything prepared for you. We'll make sure you're as comfortable and safe as possible," he instructed and this time, his tone was firm, leaving no room for you to argue back.Â
You simply nodded and made your way out of the classroom. The conversation had left you disoriented. Your lifelong determination to maintain independence and resist alpha authority was now clashing with an inexplicable trust in your professor.Â
You had never expected your first heat to come so suddenly. You thought there would be signs to prepare you, like most other omegas. But no. It was just there. And what was more embarrassing was that it wasn't you who found out first. It was an alpha. And your professor, at that.Â
You seriously considered not going to his quarters that night. Not because you were scared or didn't trust him, but just for the shame you felt. That shame, however, was quickly overshadowed by fear. You knew what could happen to unclaimed omegas who were in heat and who didn't take suppressants. Not all alphas were as kind as Remus. Some of them were vile predators ready to pounce on the first vulnerable omega they smelled. Somehow, you knew- rather inherently felt, that Remus wasn't like that.Â
Swallowing your pride, you made your way to Professor Lupin's quarters, your stomach an absolute mess from the strange blend of anxiety and odd sense of security.Â
Remus was already out by the door, a small bag in hand, a gentle smile, albeit somewhat anxious, expression gracing his face.Â
"Thank you for coming, Y/N. I know this must be overwhelming," he said, trying to keep his voice soft and reassuring.Â
You nodded, not sure you could trust your voice in that moment.Â
He offered a small smile, then gestured for you to follow. "We're not staying here. I have a safer place in mind."Â
You obeyed silently, following him through the corridors and then outside, the only sound being the small vials of potion clinking in the bag and the soft thumping of your feet on the wet grass.Â
You had no idea where he was taking you, but it didn't matter. In that moment, you were quite literally trusting him with your life, and you hated that.Â
Stopping before the Whomping Willow, Remus motioned for you to wait at a safe distance, and you watched in awe as he expertly pacified the violent tree, revealing a hidden entrance to an underground passage.Â
Without questioning him, you proceeded in silence, making your way through some damp, sketchy tunnels. This was definitely not how you had expected to have your first heat and your need to be with him was growing stronger and stronger. In normal circumstances, you should have been scared, terrified even, following a grown alpha to Merlin-knows-where, but you actually were starting to feel desperate, aching for something you couldn't explain.Â
You finally emerged into an old, creaking building, full of dust and looking like it was about to fall apart. Despite this, fresh blankets were laid out on the bed, candles provided a soft light, making it look somewhat comfortable.Â
Remus carefully set down the bag of potions and turned to you, looking a bit sheepish.Â
"It's not much, I know. But this place has been a refuge of sorts during my time here as a student... it's secluded, away from prying eyes and other... influences," he explained, deliberately vague about the deeper reasons.Â
You looked around, taking in your surroundings. He was right, this wasn't much, but it was safe. "Thank you, Professor Lupin."Â
"Please, call me Remus here," he insisted gently. "I'll let you settle down. I'll be just next door. If you need anything, just call for me."Â Â
"Thank you, Remus."Â
In the adjacent room. Remus sat rigidly, every muscle tensed, focusing on every breath, attempting to anchor himself to his resolve. He was battling his own nature, his instincts, usually so well-contained, were now threatening to overwhelm him, fuelled by your potent scent. It had been years since he'd felt such a primal pull, and he had never acted on it. So he sat, focusing on deep, steadying breaths. it was all he could do to maintain control.Â
Meanwhile, you were beginning to experience the torturing onset of your heat. It was a violent assault of unfamiliar sensations, confusing, intense, leaving you feeling profoundly alone yet achingly in need of something- something, specifically Remus. The room felt too large, too empty, yet suffocating.Â
Unable to bear the isolation and the escalating ache, you called out, your voice echoing a desperation you barely understood. "R-Remus... Remus, please... I don't know what's happening to me."Â
Remus hesitated at the door, his hand clenched around the frame. "Y/N, I'm here. Tell me what you need," he encouraged. Â
"I need... I need... I feel like i'm losing my mind. I need... I don't know," you stammered, your confusion and need radiating from you in a way that tugged relentlessly at Remus' instincts.Â
He stepped just inside the room, his expression a mix of concern and fear- for you, for himself, for the line he was terrified of crossing. "I know, I know. I understand. It's your heat... and it's strong. But I brought something that might help," he said, retrieving a vial from the small bag he had brought. "Drink this; it should ease the symptoms."Â
You took the vial with trembling hands and drank the potion, your eyes never leaving his as he sat cautiously at the edge of the bed.Â
"Why is this happening to me like this? Shouldn't the potion work immediately?" you asked, panic evident in your tone.Â
"It should, but... your heat seems to be very strong. Let's just wait for a moment. I'm here."Â
"Remus... it's not working. Please, I need..."Â
"I know what you need, Y/N. But I can't give it to you. We have to wait it out. It's going to be alright."Â
This wasn't going to do. Being far from him was painful. Being close to him without getting what you needed what torture. You needed him in a way you had never needed anything else before. You needed him to consume you, to take you, to mark you, to breed you.Â
"Alpha, please," you whispered without even meaning to. The moment the words left your lips, Remus froze, his heart racing as every fibre of his being, of his soul, responded to that word. It was spoken with such raw need that it resonated with the very essence of his being. His resolve shattered, not out of defeat, but out of an overwhelming need to fulfill his role as an alpha.Â
Before you could react, you were flipped onto your stomach, the sound of a low growl reaching your ears. You were not even in control of your body anymore. Your instincts were controlling you, and you desperately raised your hips, presenting yourself to him in the most intimate way.Â
The sight made Remus' blood travel south immediately. Already hard, he yanked down your trousers before unbuckling his own. You raised your hips higher, whining pathetically, desperate for him to take you. As he looked down at you, his cock throbbed with need and he knew then, there was no going back.Â
"Please, alpha," you begged again, your voice trembling. "I need... I need you."Â
"Fuck..." he growled, reaching down to position himself at your slick entrance. "I'm sorry," he started, his voice trembling, "this is the only way I know to help you."Â
You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the pain and pleasure that would soon consume you. "Please," you whimpered, "I need this."Â
With a grunt, Remus pushed himself into you, your bodies connecting in a way that was both deeply intimate and primal. You gasped at the intrusion, your body trembling as you felt him filling you.Â
He felt you tighten and tense as you tried to accommodate his size, your body reacting instinctively. "Relax," he instructed, his voice a low rumble. "You need to relax. Let me take care of you."Â
His words, the authority in his tone, something deep within you responded. You forced yourself to relax, even as you felt his girth stretch you. He hissed in pleasure as he felt you accommodate him, your tightness almost too much.Â
"That's it, good girl," he rasped out, one hand coming to rest on your lower back to steady you. His hips snapped forward, burying himself fully within you.Â
You moaned, your entire being blissfully consumed by the feeling of fullness.Â
"Are you alright?" he asked, staying very still within you.Â
You could only nod before another desperate plea escaped you. "Yes, alpha... please, more."
At that, he allowed his instincts to fully take over. His hands gripped your hips painfully, and he began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful. A part of him was urging him to be gentle, but the other part, the alpha, was screaming at him to take what was his, to claim, to mate, and it was too strong to resist. He needed to feel you beneath him, to lose himself in the pleasure of your connection.Â
You clung to the sheets, your nails digging into the fabric as Remus continued to rut into you. Your body rocked with every thrust, and soon enough, the pain began to fade, replaced by a blissful warmth that spread through your body. He knew he was taking a risk. A huge risk. But he couldn't help himself. He needed you, and you needed him.Â
"Fuck, Y/N," he grunted as he continued his relentless pace. He leaned over you, his chest against your back, your bodies moulding together as though they were made for each other. "You feel so good," he growled low in your ear, his voice deep, rasping, reflecting his unending hunger.Â
Each of his movement was sharp, controlled yet desperate, a constant rhythm of push and pull and he delved deeper into you, the pulsing throb of him only heightening your pleasure.Â
"Alpha... alpha, please... I- I'm going to-" you tried to say but your orgasm tore through you with such force that you lost your voice. Remus didn't slow down. If anything, feeling you clench around him only fuelled his punishing pace.Â
"I'm going to knot you," he announced. "I'm going to fill you up. Mark you as mine," he continued breathlessly. "I want everyone to know you're mine, to see you swollen with my seed, to see you bear my mark."Â
You whined, barely able to hold yourself up from under his weight, but you managed to keep your hips elevated, desperate to be filled, to be marked, to be owned.Â
His movements became jerky, sporadic as the wave of his release began to crest, each thrust of his hips pushing you further down into the mattress. "Take it," he rasped, "take my knot," his voice a harsh whisper against the shell of your ear before his teeth latched onto the soft skin of your neck, imprinting his mark on you.Â
You moaned at the mix of pain and pleasure as his hand traveled down your arm, tangling your fingers together and with a final, deep thrust, he surrendered to the pleasure, his body shuddering as he came inside you. His hips flush against yours, his body draped protectively over yours as he poured himself into you with abandon. Finally he stilled, grunting as he felt the knot at the base of his cock start to swell.Â
The sensation was foreign, somewhat painful, and you tensed, almost instinctively trying to move away.Â
"Shh, it's okay, it's okay," he tried to soothe, still panting from his intense climax. "Stay still for me. It'll subside soon, I promise."Â
He remained on top of you for a while, the knot locking you together, securing a powerful and intimate bond between you. His fingers stroked your skin gently, before he carefully maneuvered you to your side, spooning you protectively as his knot was still deeply lodged within you.Â
"I know, it's okay. I'm just making you more comfortable. I've got you," he soothed as you whimpered from the movements.Â
You stayed like that, your bodies intimately connected, until the knot subsided enough for Remus to pull out. You whined at the sudden loss and the wet warmth spreading between your thigh.Â
As he felt you relax into him, Remus gently kissed your temple before carefully disentangling himself from you. With a flick of his wand, the wet feeling between your legs disappeared and a blanket was draped over you.Â
Turning to the potions bag, Remus retrieved a vial, his hands slightly trembling as he grasped the small bottle.Â
"Y/N, can you sit up for me?" he asked gently, offering his hand to support you.Â
With his help, you managed to move into a sitting position, your movements languid, utterly exhausted from what had just transpired. Remus handed you the potion, noticing your confused expression.Â
"This is uh... it's just a precaution... to prevent any unwanted consequences," he explained, uncomfortable from the intimate implications of his words.Â
Your cheeks flushed with a hint of color as you took the vial, your fingers brushing against his in the exchange.Â
"Oh, I... thank you."Â
"I know this looks like... perhaps I had planned for this to happen. But I promise, it is not the case. I simply keep this sort of supply for any students who may be in need."Â
"I trust you, Remus. And this was bound to happen, one way or another... and I'm glad it was with you."Â
"Well, I... erm. It's important to stay hydrated, especially after this. Here," he said, trying to change the subject.Â
You laughed softly, accepting the water from him. He had this way of knowing exactly what you needed before you even knew yourself. You were actually thirsty, and the cool liquid helped soothe your parched throat.Â
As you sipped your water, a sudden sharp pain caused you to reach for your neck, your fingers brushing against a fresh, deep red mark. You looked at Remus with questioning eyes, seeking an explanation.Â
Remus, visibly uncomfortable and with a hint of regret in his eyes, cleared his throat before speaking. "That's... that's a mark. My mark," he began, struggling to maintain eye contact.Â
"In the heat of the moment, it's something an alpha can leave on an omega. It's a claim, a deep, instinctual reaction that seals a powerful bond. I didn't mean to- I should have controlled myself better."Â
Your fingers lingered on the mark, your initial shock giving way to a different emotion, one of a surprising acceptance and even a hint of joy. "Does this mean... are we mates now?"Â
Remus nodded. "Yes, it does. And I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't intend for this to happen this way. You're a student. I should have been more careful, more in control. But please know, I will take responsibility. I will take care of you, support you, and I promise, I won't be overbearing. I'll-"Â
"Remus, stop," you interjected, amused by his words tumbling our in a flustered rush. A smile crept onto your lips, a sense of deep contentment washing over you.Â
"I'm not upset. In fact, I'm...happy," you confessed.Â
Remus looked up, surprised. "You are?"Â
"Yes, I am. To be marked by you, to be your mate... it feels right, despite everything. I don't see myself with any of those young inexperienced alphas..."Â
"Young inexperienced alphas," he echoed. "Are you calling me old, miss?"
"Yes, maybe I am..."Â
#remus lupin#remus lupin smut#remus lupin x reader#professor lupin#professor lupin x reader#alpha remus lupin#omega reader#smut
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Green-Eyed Monster
Regina George x Reader
Word Count: 1.1k
Trigger Warnings: jealous Regina, friends who don't agree with reader relationship (we've all been there, right?)
Request:
can you regina and reader are dating but reader starts being friends with janis, cady, and damian and regina gets super jealous and it causes a fight with reader and then they make up and it's fluffy at the end
Mean Girls requests are open.
(Y/n) laughed loudly, quickly clasping a hand over her mouth as many people turned to look at her. Within those many was Regina George, her girlfriend. Though, no one knew that they were dating since Regina was still in the closet. The blonde quirked a brow from her section of the cafeteria as Janis placed a hand on (Y/n)'s shoulder to help shush her. This was an action that Regina did not appreciate as she narrowed her eyes over at the two. Neither noticed this action as (Y/n) only laughed harder, her forehead gently hitting the table as Janis patted her back, laughing, too.
"Why were you laughing so hard?" Regina asked, sitting across from (Y/n) in her room. She kept her eyes narrowed as she examined (Y/n), trying to figure out what was so funny that she didn't even respond to Regina's texts during lunch.
Regina was still learning how to be in a relationship, and she was far from perfect, but she was perfect at being jealous. Even though there was absolutely no need to be since nothing was going on between (Y/n) and Janis. However, Regina didn't know this. After all, Janis was conventionally pretty, and she came without the baggage of a hidden relationship since she was already out. There was a small possibility that the school's 'it' girl was insecure. Not that she would admit that in any way.
A small laugh escaped (Y/n) as she thought back to what made her laugh so hard. This caused Regina to cross her arms before standing up. "Well, we were talking about this painting from mine and Janis's art class. We had to do portraits, but there's this one guy who like sucks at painting. And, I am perfectly aware it's not nice to laugh, but his portrait of Ms. Klein was not it." (Y/n) couldn't help but feel more giggles bubble in her chest, though she was finally able to keep them at bay.
Regina must have not understood art humor, because this wasn't that funny to her. "Did you have to let Janis put her hand on you though?" She questioned, watching as (Y/n)'s brows knitted together in confusion over what the problem was. "People are going to think you two are dating or something? Do you realize how stupid that makes me look?" Regina looked angry, and (Y/n) was getting to the same point that she was.
Sitting up on her bed and closing her book, (Y/n) considered her words carefully. "Okay, look, I didn't mean to make you jealous, but Janis and I are just friends. I'm not sure what the difference is when you, Gretchen, Karen, and Cady are touching each other's faces to apply each other's makeup. Perhaps you can explain it to me?" (Y/n) tried to stay calm and centered. She knew how heated Regina could get. Still, she must've said something that worsened the situation as Regina's cheeks brightened in color.
"The difference is, Janis is out, and you are out," Regina stated, grabbing for her bag as she started for the door. (Y/n) quickly untangled herself from her blanket, grabbing Regina's hand to stop her. "Don't touch me. You should go hang out with your girlfriend, Janis. She was all over you at lunch, anyways."
(Y/n) let go of Regina, not wanting to anger her more as she sucked in a breath. "Come on, Regina, let's just talk. I don't want to argue over this. I will ask Janis to stop touching me if it will make you happy." (Y/n) offered, hoping to create some peace between her and Regina. She hated arguing with anyone, but she despised arguing with Regina. It was another level of fighting that she couldn't handle. It made her head spin.
Regina walked out of the room and started down the stairs with (Y/n) hot on her trail. "I don't want to talk. I want you to understand how stupid I feel when you just let Janis put her hands all over you." Regina said as she made her way to her Jeep. "Just leave me alone." (Y/n) sighed as Regina shut her Jeep door and ran her hands down her face. She knew to give Regina space, that chasing after her right now wouldn't do anything for either of them.
(Y/n) went back to her room, falling back onto her bed. She was in love with Regina, but the worst part of this being a secret is she couldn't go to her friends for comfort. Instead, she felt unintentionally isolated as Regina's perfume still lingered in the air unhelpfully. She realized that Regina's insecurity more had to do with the fact that she and Janis were both out, but Regina didn't even give her time to help her work through that with her. So, instead, she had to force herself to not call or text the girl.
The next day, around lunchtime, (Y/n) was still somber over the events from the previous night. She had texted Regina a sweet 'good morning' as always but received nothing back. That's why it surprised her when Regina approached her table. "(Y/n), I have a quick history question, can I speak to you in private?" Regina glanced over at Janis, who rolled her eyes at Regina. (Y/n) nudged the girl beside her to stop before following Regina out of the cafeteria. "I realized that I took my anger out at you. To be honest, I was a little scared you might find Janis to be a better girlfriend because she was out, and you didn't have to hide." Regina admitted, causing shock to spread along (Y/n)'s face.
She wasn't expecting Regina to be insecure over Janis. "I understand your fear, and I understand your insecurity. You should know though, I'm not into Janis. She, Cady, and Damian are my best friends. I love them, but it's very different to the way I love you." (Y/n) put her hands over Regina's before their fingers intertwined.
Regina tried to hide the grin growing on her face as she looked down. "You love me?" She asked, her voice filling with emotion, a shift from the apologetic tone she held just before.
(Y/n) laughed softly before kissing Regina softly. Regina kissed back, cupping her cheeks. "Yeah, I love you, Regina George." (Y/n) said softly, glad to see that they had made up and that they were both getting over their previous argument.
"I love you too, (Y/n)," Regina said softly before taking her hand and leading her out the door. "Come on, I'm ready to go out there. I don't care what people think anymore. All that matters to me is that you're by my side when I go out there."
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grins mischievously and rubs my hands together like a fly
i think human ink would frequently get bored of his hair color and hair style, trying out lots of different things!! he would definitely forget to maintain the dyejob tho so his white roots get REALLY bad until he dyes it again LMAO
while his dads aren't japanese (zephyr is french and idrk about undertop), they enjoy ink showing them japanese culture and participating in traditions and such :-)
ink, since they're immortal, decided he would dedicate his freetime into learning a bunch of different cultures and languages! this always tends to surprise others, since ink's short-term memory is absolute garbage. nobody understands how he remembers EVERYTHING about EVERY culture đđđ you CANNOT keep a secret from this mofo no matter what language you speak
i think they would keep a digital diary with a camera! he records important events/moments so they can always look back at them, since he forgets a lot. his camera is mostly filled up with memories with their dads đŤś
ink LOVESS to bake!! he enjoys trying out different recepies and pastries from all around the world, but his favorites are macarons. he enjoys cooking as well, but moreso appreciates baking because of the exact instructions/measurements. (he is autistic like me and needs clear instructions or he will combust real and true trust me on this)
he has WAY too many hobbies for a normal person to keep up with. flute, baking, drawing, painting, writing, dancing, crocheting, knitting, embroidery, singing, gardening, you NAME it. any form of art, they know how to do and are surprisingly good at it
ink struggles with keeping up with his own very very busy mind. they have so many projects he wants to execute, but can only push out a few at a time. he hates having unfinished projects, and will stick with something until the endâfor better or for worse.
he loves to paint over his vitiligo spots, or just painting on himself in general. they think it's fun & interesting to see how the spots shift and change on his skin, never growing bored of them.
-> his spots shift whenever code for a new AU is created, soo it's never really consistent LOL
he loves all forms of music, but holds a special place in his heart for songs that include lots of different classic instrumentals, like violin. he loves artists like fish in a birdcage and sparkbird (yes im projecting and you can't stop me)
he sometimes will drink paint out of the blue in front of others just for their reactions. they are priceless to ink and ALWAYS make him crack up so bad.. and then he has to explain that "nonono my paint specifically is okay for me to drink guys im not gonna die dw" â ď¸â ď¸
ANNDDD i should probably stop there.. this post is so long LMFAO đđ honestly most of these are just my normal ink headcanons, human or not, so take these as you will đŁď¸đŁď¸
#utmv#undertale#undertale au#ink sans#inkblott#inkblottrambles#ink sans headcanons#human ink sans#hes so silly silly#i love ink if you couldnt tell#grins mischievously
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