#and then there was his hand literally on my vagina lmao

[sundrop-writes]

Downhill

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

I’ve never spent a moment loving anyone but you.

And maybe that’s just something people say - but I hope it’s the truth.

Summary:

Draco knows his place in the world. He is a Malfoy, he is Pureblood. He is supposed to marry, carry on the Pureblood line. He is supposed to do everything that his parents would - including killing, if it's what his Dark Lord wishes.

Draco Malfoy is not supposed to hesitate. He is not supposed to feel fear. He is not supposed to have room in his heart for fondness, or even love. Not even when it comes to his bartered and bought fellow Pureblood fiancee.

Love is nothing but a weakness. And Malfoys are not weak.

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader. Arranged Marriage/Hesitant Lovers. Emotional Angst and Smut. Set during Half-Blood Prince.

Word Count: 20,100

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

This is meant to be a standalone oneshot, but it was written as a prequel to the fic My Bleeding Heart. Because the other fic is chronologically second, you won't be missing anything if you read this one first, but if you have read it before, then this one ties in nicely and informs more of the emotions between the characters.

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this fic is equal parts smut and emotional angst; this fic does technically take place around Christmas (with the Slug Club Christmas Party being the biggest signal of that), but Christmas is not a huge overarching theme or presence in the fic if you don't celebrate or don't like Christmas; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; implications of the reader being fat/plus-sized (which happens with a lot of my fics); it is mentioned that the reader is wearing a dress and high heels to the party; the reader is a Slytherin; the reader is a Pureblood (and for the sake of the fic, I made up a random 'important' Pureblood family that she is from, but because she wasn't raised by them, she goes by a difference surname that can just be your literal actual surname); the reader is an orphan and never actually knew her Pureblood parents; this fic DOES use Y/N; the reader is called 'brilliant' and comes off as very intelligent and skilled with magic (skilled enough to get into the Slug Club); Draco and the reader are in an arranged marriage for the sake of carrying on the Pureblood lineage, and it is discussed that the reader was 'bought' for Draco (a very large dowry was paid) (during the course of the fic, they are only engaged and not yet married); most of this is written from Draco's perspective and features self loathing, emotionally stunted Draco; jealous!Draco - Draco hears that the reader was talking to Harry and gets upset; mentions of the reader being left to the Malfoys by a neglectful godmother; I know there is debate about whether it's canon or not, but in this fic Draco's parents are abusive toward him - his father much more so and his mother is more of a neglectful bystander, and there is a lot of themes in this fic about Draco's trauma surrounding that and how he starts taking his first steps to break free from his abusers (this fic implies that Draco has been physically and emotionally abused by his father, as well as being severely emotionally neglected by both his parents); the reader character in this fic is also abused by the Malfoys when living with them - including an incident where she is hit by Lucius Malfoy and has her hand smashed into broken glass; an incident is described where Lucius casts a spell that chokes Draco (briefly) with the intention of physically punishing him, and the reader stops the spell; Lucius calls the reader 'slut' and 'whore' as insults; mentions of house elves and elf 'slavery' (feels like a warning I'm putting in here specifically for Hermione but I know people get upset about this stuff now lmao); descriptions of dead animals - a bird is killed while being transported through the not yet working Vanishing Cabinet; mentions of canon deaths (Cedric Diggory); mentions of 'Death Eater culture' - discrimination, violence against muggleborns, blood purity, etc.; discussion of Draco's mission to kill Dumbledore (and his mission to help the Death Eaters break into Hogwarts) and the stress that it causes him.

In his internal narration, Draco calls the reader 'naive' and 'innocent', but this is not a statement about the reader's level of sexual or romantic experience (the reader character is NOT A VIRGIN in this), this is a statement about the reader's level of experience with violence and death (and how Draco feels a need to protect her from being corrupted by the dark forces in his life); Draco grabs the reader's arm (in a slightly painful way, while arguing) - but they don't have a major physical confrontation and it does not escalate (their relationship has slightly toxic vibes, but they are forced to depend on each other); mention of Draco being 'thin'/losing weight due to not eating properly (due to the stress of a life or death mission hanging over his head); for the actual smut section - Draco has a kink for the reader wearing stockings/tights (don't ask me where I got this idea from, it just feels like it would fit Draco really well); the tone of the whole thing is very sweet, affectionate, passionate love-making; Draco calls the reader 'darling' and 'love'; oral - reader receiving; Draco fingers the reader while eating her out; a lot of passionate kissing and body worshipping (towards the reader); multiple orgasms/overstimulation (reader receiving); squirting (not played up as a major kink, but it does happen); Draco is anti-breeding kink (I know this is a new one, but try to stick with me) - Draco knows that the only reason for their engagement is to carry on the family blood like (to breed) and he is against that (because it means carrying out his parents' wishes and putting the reader in danger) so he refuses to fuck her because he doesn't want to get her pregnant, because he thinks that it will be cursing her with an attachment to him and he still wants to give her a chance to bail, so he specifically avoids PIV sex for this reason; the ending of the fic has some slightly dubious consent - because Draco starts thinking about the fate of the arranged marriage and feels self loathing but continues with the encounter anyway (he is romantically and sexually attracted to the reader, and there is no force, and the reader is enthusiastic about her consent the whole time, but Draco starts to withdraw his consent and is slightly unsure - it's adult and realistic and complicated); Draco masturbates while sitting on top of the reader to avoid having sex with the reader (in a way, this could be considered 'forced orgasm' because Draco is having a lot of complicated emotions and literally forces himself to orgasm to end the sexual situation); Draco cums on the reader's thighs; Draco cries after sex because of all his complicated emotions; Draco and the reader do talk about their feelings and (mostly) work things out; the ending skews toward light-hearted/sappy.

A/N: This fic is titled after the song Downhill by Lincoln - and I actually had a really hard time choosing which lyrics to go at the top, because I genuinely believe that all the lyrics from the song are so, so fitting here. So I do highly encourage you to go and listen to the song while you read this!! I actually started writing this fic many months ago when the idea came to me, and I got stalled on it, and then I randomly got inspired to finish it around mid-October, but I wanted to wait to post it until it was closer to Christmas because it is so rare for me to have a seasonally accurate fic on my hands so I actually wanted to post it during the seasonally accurate time lmao. I had a lot of fun writing this and exploring the relationship between these two characters, and I do want to write more for them in the future - especially because I am obsessed with the arranged marriage concept. (I feel like I need to write more fics with different characters that use arranged marriage as a trope because writing this just showed me how much fun it is.) Anyway, for now, I hope you enjoy this, and please let me know what you think of it in the comments.

...

Moving from the bustling atmosphere of the Slug Club Christmas Party into the cold, empty corridor was certainly a drastic shift.

It felt like stepping through a curtain that drained all happiness from you, even if that happiness was only temporary, feigned, and fueled by the jovial holiday atmosphere rather than coming from anywhere true inside of you. It was a show you had put on for the sake of the social occasion. As an automatic response, you felt the fake smile fall from your face as the last murmurs of the guests and the last echoes of Christmas music disappeared faintly behind you. You were then fully flipped from the warm, welcoming environment of the party to the cold shell that was Hogwarts in the dead of winter as the cool air coming off the stone kissed against your skin. 

You couldn’t resist the need to hug yourself in order to cover up your bare arms, sharp gooseflesh already forming there. Such an occasion insisted upon something showy rather than practical, and with the December weather, you were finding it chilly. 

As you walked a few steps down from the entrance to the party, you found that a certain cloud of darkness began to consume you - even with the Christmas trees glistening brightly at either end, reminding you of the supposedly cheerful season. 

You walked toward Draco, where he was waiting for you, just as Snape had promised when he had come up behind you like a looming storm cloud and pulled you away so suddenly, so rudely from the rousing conversation you were having with Harry and Slughorn. But you had to turn your mind off from any showmanship that you had been forced to put into those conversations, and turn your mind onto something else now - someone else. 

Draco had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his expensive suit, a stiff posture that could be seen even through the matching, all black attire. He was pacing along the mouth of the hallway rather frantically, threatening to wear holes in the soles of his custom leather shoes, muttering under his breath to himself. 

So far, this was the worst you had ever seen him. And that worried you greatly. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, the question naturally on your tongue. 

The sound of your voice in the otherwise empty corridor pulled Draco’s eyes up from the floor, snapping his attention toward you in a way that stopped his pacing in an instant, causing his posture to stiffen up tall as he turned toward you. It was an ingrained instinct - facing someone, giving them your attention when they spoke. Well trained unconscious physical etiquette whipped into a boy who was often very rude and careless with his words. 

For a moment, his fist tightened in his pocket, and you knew that he was clutching on his wand instinctively, his eyes flickering around, looking for an intruder - so perhaps, not entirely ingrained etiquette. Perhaps quite a lot of unconscious physical panic living within those muscles as well. Fight or flight instincts that never got a chance to turn off. 

When his eyes fell on you, recognition flooded his features, and his stiffness relaxed - even if only slightly. 

“Draco, what is it? Why did you pull me out of the party?” You prodded further, your curiosity growing into annoyance when he took too long to answer you. 

“Trust me, I wouldn’t have called you out here if it wasn’t important.” Draco sighed, shifting from one foot to the other, not looking at you. 

“Well isn’t what I’m doing supposed to be important too?” You snapped back. 

Truthfully, you didn’t care about your ‘mission’. You knew that there would be consequences for you if you failed - but at this point, you weren’t all too afraid of being killed. 

When Draco’s parents had discovered that Slughorn was once again teaching at Hogwarts, they had sent you a letter asking to join his ‘Club’, telling you to get close to him. They knew that because of your brilliance, he would already be interested in you joining - and he certainly was. But you had turned him down multiple times because you found it to be an annoyance, and you didn’t want to have to worry about attending ‘club’ meetings on top of everything else going on in your chaotic life. 

Snape was the one who had explained to you why they wanted you to take him up on his nagging offer. The Dark Lord, who used to be known as Tom Riddle, was also once a part of that Club. And they needed to know how much Slughorn remembered about him, and if he was spilling any of the Dark Lord’s secrets to Harry Potter. They needed to know if Slughorn was revealing anything that might make The Dark Lord vulnerable towards Potter. 

Truthfully, you had been grateful towards Snape, and towards Draco for pulling you out of that social hell of fake laughter and performity and into the cool relief of the corridor. You had been dreading the thought of going to the party since Slughorn had first informed everyone about it, and you were grateful to escape it. Even if it gave a chance for the general darkness that Draco carried with him to begin biting at your sensitive heart. And even if it left Harry alone with Slughorn and his endless yammering in your wake. (You pitied him slightly, but you knew that he would be fine on his own.) 

You were mostly irritated with Draco because you hadn’t seen him in days. You felt that he had been strategically avoiding you. Somehow, even in the Slytherin common room or even when you looked for him in his own dorm, he never seemed to be there. And now, he was interrupting you during a crucial moment, daring to show his face when you had spent the better of the last week alone. 

You had invited him to attend the party with you. You thought that you would look like a fool, showing up without a date. And you had. Especially when nearly everyone at Hogwarts had your engagement as hot gossip on their lips just a few months prior. 

“Yes, but-” Draco began to explain himself, but you cut him off, your bubbling annoyance overtaking you in the moment. 

“I was talking to Slughorn when you so rudely interrupted me.” You said, emphasising the words in a way that made Draco childishly roll his eyes. “He was just about to invite me and Harry to look at some of shitty old mementos from previous class years when you had Snape pull me away-”

“Harry?” Draco repeated the name back, mouth gaped as his face twisted in disgust, getting far too caught up on the way you referred to his once rival - now someone who was very background to the rest of his problems. “What? Now you’re getting all cozied up with Potter, are you?” 

At the end of the day, Draco knew that you didn’t owe him anything. 

Essentially, his parents had bought you for him - just like they would have a new racing broom or a fancy set of robes. Since then, you had been nothing but kind to him. Well, aside from your mouthy attitude - which Draco actually found to be refreshing a lot of the time. And he wasn’t even sure how much of it was genuine kindness and how much of it was putting on a show for his parents in order to demonstrate to them that you were a good purchase - that you weren’t something to be disposed of. 

You had held his hand, been cozy and complimented him. He had been surprised the first time you kissed him - surprised by how genuine it felt, and how much he felt himself getting sucked into the emotions of it. But he knew that it was all just for show. 

Because at the end of the day, he knew that no amount of money could force him to own your heart. If you fell in love with someone like Potter, then he could do nothing to stop it. And frankly, he wouldn’t blame you. The heroics, and the genuine kindness, the niceties, the softness - Potter could offer you everything that he couldn’t. 

And in all honesty - something that Draco would only admit to himself deep within the confines of his own, quiet, quaking soul - that thought utterly terrified him. 

“Seriously, Draco?” You barked back, absolutely insulted at the insinuation. At the idea that you had been having fun at the party with Harry when it had been a pretty miserable time for you. “What kind of person do you think I am? I wasn’t there to flirt. Especially not with Harry Potter.”

“Yeah, that’s an awfully convenient story, love.” Draco scoffed, his voice brimming with disgust. 

When you made no further moves to defend yourself - when you didn’t beg for his affection or further insist that what you and Draco had was truly genuine and worth fighting for, it only filled Draco’s mind with more doubt. It only further inflated the idea that indeed, you liked Potter as a romantic partner. And you liked him better. 

“Fine then.” Draco sneered, turning on his heel and marching away, his shoes clacking loudly against the floor as he walked, creating an eerie echo in the empty hallway. 

You hated that your stomach curled with dread at the sight of his quickly retreating back. It had been a long, lonely week without him, and you hated to think of how much longer he would isolate himself if you didn’t take the chance to snag him now. 

“Draco, wait!” You rushed to stop him. 

He was the only person that you truly knew at Hogwarts. 

Yes, he had introduced you to his friends. Pansy Parkinson was nice enough, and she always tried to make girly small talk with you, which you usually returned. Often, her problems about which outfits to wear and how to do her makeup seemed insignificant compared to the literal life and death that Draco faced. But you could always go to her for a conversation that was distracting, a good mental escape. 

Blaise Zabini was more of the strong, silent type. Sometimes the two of you discussed books you had read (when you weren’t feeling too stressed out to read). You usually ended conversations with him early due to colliding opinions on such books. Naturally, he sided with the rich oppressors and you found yourself rooting for the underdogs in every single story. 

Somehow, out of everyone you found yourself surrounded with, Draco was someone you considered a friend. It was difficult not to after the summer the two of you had spent together. 

When your godmother had told you that some ‘old friends of your parents’ were interested in meeting you, you had been surprised. She had always been good to you - she had been friendly, always given you the basics and more in terms of what you needed. She was a very work-minded woman when it came to her job dealing with cursed objects, so she travelled often and left you to be watched over by the Muggle neighbours. Those were experiences that you treasured and often found to be fun. 

You had always grown up with the underlying knowledge that your godmother was not your ‘real’ mother. She always had you call her by her first name - never ‘Mama’, or ‘Mom’. Occasionally, you were mocked in school (because she had enrolled you in Muggle school for a basic education) because you were ‘adopted’. One day, this had led you to asking your godmother where it was that you had come from. 

She told you that your parents were from England, and they died fighting in a war against a terrible dark wizard. They had named her as the person who would take care of you in the event of their death, and though your godmother barely had any traces of an accent left, she told you that she once went to school with your parents at a place called Hogwarts in England. 

Your whole life, all you had known was Muggle New York City. When you turned ten years old, you knew Salem’s Academy for Fine Young Witches, which sometimes had social events (like Quidditch matches and weekend outings) with a brother school, Magorium’s Institute for Upcoming Magical Men. You had dated boys before, but you had never experienced anything too serious. You were a social butterfly well into your magical education who rode the subway during your summers and spent your time going to concerts, enjoying the Muggle library, watching television, going to the movie theatre. 

Even though you never knew your parents and you mourned the dreams of a life you could have had - your life was simple, and you liked it that way. 

Until your godmother took you on a trip to England, promising that it would be a pilgrimage to know more about your heritage, and nothing more. And then - over one dinner, she sold you out to the Malfoys for a dowry of two thousand Galleons. 

Apparently it was enough for her to retire so that she could write a book, as she had always dreamed of. And she was more than happy to be rid of the responsibility of a child that she did not birth. Something that you had heard her whisper to Narcissa when she thought you had not been listening. Up until that point, the only thing binding her to you had been a magical contract that she had signed with your parents before you were even born, naming her your carer in the event of their untimely death. 

The moment she signed a new contract - bidding you to the Malfoys as Draco’s future wife - she was completely free of her responsibility. The new contract that she signed dictated that the Malfoys would have to be responsible for you now. 

So - what you had thought would be a nice visit to explore more about the two dead people that you had never known quickly turned into a permanent relocation with only a small suitcase full of personal belongings, and little clue what the future held for you. Suddenly, you were in a brand new country, living with people you had never met before, betrothed to someone who seemed to hate you. 

And the more the Malfoys talked about The War and told stories of your deceased parents, the more you realised - your parents had died fighting alongside the terrible dark wizard, and not against him. But still, Narcissa and Lucius spoke about your parents as though they were heroes. Valiant heroes who had died at the hands of Aurors, protecting Voldemort’s cause. 

At first, it felt instinctive to hate Draco Malfoy. 

You wanted so badly to hate him. 

He was your betrothed, and though he was very handsome, he had been bitterly rude to you. It seemed that the forcefully polite kiss on the hand that he had given you upon first meeting - something that had given you butterflies in your stomach - had been nothing more than a front, a show he put on for his parents. Because he quickly soured towards you after that. 

He made it very clear that he was not a fan of the arranged marriage either. Even when his parents continually tried to pitch the idea to him and fluff it up for him - as much as they acted like you were a present being given to him on a silver platter (something that only made you feel more isolated and empty). 

There was a distinct point that made you come around to Draco Malfoy. 

The night when you had found out that it wasn’t just a visit, that the idea of the marriage wasn’t just being ‘floated by’ your godmother, but in fact, it was set in stone and you were being left at Malfoy Manor while she silently escaped in the middle of the night with her bag full of gold without even saying goodbye to you. You had sat on the edge of the guest bed they had you in and simply sobbed. You had never felt more alone in your life, never more abandoned, and all you could do was cry your eyes out. 

Draco’s room was across the hall from yours, so naturally, he heard this. It had been a purposeful move from his parents, putting the two of you in close quarters in the hopes that you would talk and interact more, wanting the two of you to at least like each other before getting married. After a few hours of being forced to listen to your chest-racking sobs, you heard a knock. You had been expecting it to be Draco, telling you to shut up so that he could sleep, but instead, a tiny voice asked permission to enter. 

It was one of the house elves - one you later learned was called Pippy, and when you gave her permission to come in, she shuffled along with a large tray in her hands and placed it on the nightstand. A teapot and an empty teacup. She poured you the cup of tea, and after she handed it to you, she patted you on the knee and said: 

“Mister Draco says peppermint tea is good for the bad days,” 

You took the cup in two shaking hands, thanking her meekly, enjoying it as a small comfort. When you watched the tiny elf shuffling back toward your door, you caught a glimpse of a bright blue eye peeking in through the crack, clearly trying not to be caught looking in. 

Even if he would never admit it then, he was growing soft toward you. 

And he had spent the next three months, the entirety of the summer, fighting with that softness as it grew within himself. He constantly battled between pushing you away with feigned annoyance and coldness and wrapping you in warmth, a wordless care. 

He would spend some of the nights in your bed cuddling you while you cried, staying completely silent as to dare not let any fond words slip out. He would defend you against his parents when you didn’t participate in their properly deemed etiquette (such as when you treated the house elves ‘too nicely’ or when you spoke about Muggle technology a bit too much). And yet, he never brought himself to say more than a few genuinely nice words to you. 

He was holding you at arm’s length. He was trying to be some snide, petulant boy toward you in the hopes that you wouldn’t like him. But truly, he was the only real kindness, the only real friend you had in this lonely new world. 

Draco stopped in his tracks at the sound of you calling out his name. As much as he would never admit it, he was a puppet to your call. 

He heaved out a sigh and turned back around, so utterly drawn to you. He hated to see your eyes coated in glass - fear and sadness, the ache that you had disappointed him bubbling to the surface as he stared you down with a sour face, his hands still in his pockets, his entire body still stiff. 

Even though a sad face didn’t suit you, you were still beautiful. So damn beautiful. He hated that he had been so stupid as to miss accompanying you to the party. But he likely would have just been a grey cloud hanging around you, preventing anyone from talking to you and socialising with you. He would have been a roadblock to your mission. 

You were wearing a dress made of a fabric that looked like liquid silver melted down and poured over your body, so sparkling and flowy that you looked like a star that belonged in the night sky alongside the beauty of the moon. It wrapped around your body gracefully, with a tie to emphasise your waist and a low neckline that showed off your cleavage. He was only human - he couldn’t lie in how it appealed to him. Sitting in the middle of your cleavage was a necklace - it was an ornate ruby beetle, the sigil of your Pureblood family. You were the last remaining member of the Scaraflos house. 

The necklace had been handed down to you from your mother - literally the only thing you had from your parents. You had worn it for years without ever truly knowing what it meant. You had told Draco that when Narcissa showed you pictures of his parents and your parents from their school days and pointed out how your mother was wearing the necklace in those pictures, it was the only time you had ever felt truly connected to your Pureblood heritage. And you had no clue if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

Anytime in years previous, Draco would have jumped to say that it was a good thing. Now, though - he wasn’t entirely sure. 

You were shivering slightly due to the fact that it had such short sleeves, but you were wearing black stockings on your legs (something else that Draco found irritably sexy, even though it covered more of your skin) and you had on a pair of simple, but elegant silver heels. 

Silently, unable to stand the sight of goosenips forming on your skin, he took off his blazer and took the few steps back toward you to wrap it around your shoulders. With his thinner build, it wouldn’t fit you well - but at least, it would shield you from some of the cold air in the castle. As he draped it around you, his eyes caught a glimpse of your hand as you reached up to hold the edge of the coat on your shoulder, clutching onto the fabric so that it wouldn’t fall. 

Draco couldn’t help it when his eyes fixated terribly on it - that damn engagement ring. 

It was something his parents had purchased without him ever knowing, and they had him present it to you as a form of ceremony. As if either of you had any choice in the matter. As if it was supposed to be romantic. As if you could have said no. Later on, behind closed doors, you told him that you would wear it proudly and he scoffed. He thought that the moment the two of you got to Hogwarts, when there were no more prying eyes on the two of you (because Snape certainly didn’t care) - that you would take it off and resign it to some jewellery box, or perhaps even throw it away. 

But you kept wearing it. 

When you thought Draco wasn’t looking, he sometimes found you twisting it between two fingers, looking down at it with an odd kind of fondness - or perhaps, even love. Always a deep, dizzying array of complex thoughts floating through your mind. 

He had no clue that you wore it because you thought of Draco as your family now. He was the only person you had in the world who hadn’t done you some kind of injustice. And you wore it to show loyalty to him. You wore it because it meant that you weren’t alone. You were an abandoned orphan, sold and bartered like livestock - but as long as you wore that ring, you belonged to someone. Someone who, despite his best efforts to appear cold and uncaring, did take care of you. 

“Draco, why did you come here?” You asked again, much gentler this time, lowering your attack for now. 

You stared at him expectantly as you clutched his blazer around your shoulders, trying to steal the last bits of his warmth out of the fabric before it faded away completely. 

He sighed, hating to admit that he needed help. He was stubbornly, bitterly independent, just as his parents had taught him to be. It was one of his biggest flaws. 

“I’m having issues with the Vanishing Cabinet.” He told you quietly, hesitant to admit it. Hesitant to admit failure. 

“Show me.” You told him, and he nodded. 

He led you to the blank wall on the fifth floor that somehow caused a door to appear. The first time you had seen it, it had astounded you. Even in a world of magic, some things still managed to surprise you. 

He had originally brought you there at the beginning of the school year when he had explained to you that he had been tasked to fix up The Vanishing Cabinet. He had called it The Room of Hidden Things. He had explained to you that any time someone wanted to get rid of a dangerous object, for that object to never be found again, they disposed of it within this room. Sometimes it was also a dumping ground for common junk, he had theorised, and he heavily believed that items that were hidden within other places within the walls of Hogwarts - a book tucked away in a random cupboard, a potion bottle hidden under someone’s mattress - somehow, those items ended up here if they were hidden with the same intention of disposal. They were all pulled here by the room’s strong magic. 

You found it to be hauntingly beautiful, like many other places within Hogwarts were. You couldn’t help but to enjoy the sense of mystery as you walked through the isles of piled up furniture, seeing all the strange items that you could barely put names to - things like dragon skulls, murky old potions rotting away in dusty bottles. Even a few trolls that had been killed and stuff (taxidermy style) that had startled you upon your first visit to the room because when you had first looked at them, you thought they were alive and waiting to attack. 

Draco brought you to the back of the large room, and you saw that he had already pulled the tarp off the overwhelming tall, ornate Vanishing Cabinet, so the dusty cloth was sitting in the pile at the cabinet’s feet. Without a word, Draco walked up to the cabinet, moving in stiff mechanical motions as he pulled open the doors. You took a few steps closer to get a better look, realising that he was trying to show you whatever was inside - that must be where the primary problem was located. 

You couldn’t hold in the gasp that broke out of your throat when you saw a dead bird sitting in the bottom of the cabinet. 

A bright yellow canary laying against the dark wood, belly up and completely still with its soft feathers rustled, a few of them missing. You had seen very few dead animals in your lifetime. Aside from the occasional New York City pigeon, laying on the sidewalk in a similar fashion after running itself into one of the hyper reflective windows of the tall buildings. You couldn’t even stand to look at those for too long. You still felt the same deep heartache while looking at it that you had for the poor pigeons. 

“Oh - oh my.” You gaped quietly. 

Draco was entirely surprised when you shouldered him out of the way, letting his ill-fitting borrowed jacket drop off your shoulders onto the dusty ground without care as you crouched down in front of him. You then scooped up the small bird in your hands, cradling it gently as though it were entirely precious. 

He thought that seeing the state of things, you might start suggesting spells, telling him ways that he could fix the obvious problem. But no - you were soft-hearted. The true problem hadn’t even occurred to you yet, because you were so caught up on the sight of a dead bird. You were emotional, struck by the shock of an innocent animal having its life prematurely ended. 

Draco envied you quietly for a moment as you sat on your knees in front of the cabinet, looming in his shadow as you held the bird in your hands. He realised that in order for you to be so startled over this, so heartbroken - it must be one of the first times you had been brushed with death. Draco envied that naivety. 

He wished he could rewind to the version of himself from a few years ago. A version that thought not being able to join the Quidditch team because of an age restriction was the worst tragedy in the world. A version that thought he got everything he wanted because he was genuinely deserving of it. Someone who couldn’t see that he was simply a spoiled brat. 

He wished he could go back to a version that hadn’t seen Muggleborns slain in his family’s dining room, begging for mercy where there would be none.  

When he had first seen that bird sitting dead in the cabinet, a frighteningly still, dead body draped in yellow - for a moment, he had been reminded of Cedric Diggory. Someone so undeserving, lifeless before their time. Used up and gone. 

But now, seeing the way you cradled it, fussing over something already dead and unable to benefit from your care - Draco was distinctly reminded of himself, withering and undeserving in your arms. 

“Draco, do - do you think we should bury it?” You asked, the gentle croak of tears in your voice as you considered a pointless funeral for the small dead thing. 

You suddenly rose up to your feet then, walking around Draco to look for something among the junk in the room, something to wrap the poor bird in - some kind of cloth, or perhaps a small box to place it in. 

This caused something inside of him to snap. The way your sweet demeanour ground against his nerves - his worry, his anxiety about everything mounting suddenly as you fussed over a tiny thing that truly didn’t matter. 

Eventually, your good intentions would get you killed. That gentle touch, that willingness to help - it would get you on the wrong end of a Killing Curse one day. (Especially if he didn’t protect you.) 

“It’s not about the bloody bird, woman!” He growled out, entirely frustrated with your delicate ignorance, your lack of seeing the true point. 

Draco turned to you, and grabbed your arm so viciously that your palms jerked apart and the small, lifeless body dropped onto the floor without a single bit of grace. The bird dropped against the cold stone so carelessly, as though it were an object that had not once had any life in it at all. You let out another gasp at this, and looked from the dull tuft of yellow feathers at your feet up to Draco’s face. 

“Draco!” You cried out sharply, protesting against his careless nature toward the innocent creature. 

His fingers were gripping your forearm fiercely, blooming small bits of pain - but you didn’t care. You felt a clench in your gut, distinct guilt overwhelming you. You told yourself that his anger was misplaced. You had to guess so. You didn’t have words, especially not while he stared you down so coldly. All you could do was stand tall, and stare right back, even while tears formed in your eyes. 

He tightly clenched his jaw. 

You were surprised when he spoke again. 

“How can you be so daft?” He said, almost choking on the words. 

That was when you knew for certain that all his bubbling anger was truly misplaced. He had called you brilliant before, and often made ‘jokes’ about how much you outsmarted him. It was one of the only things he had said about you that wasn’t sarcastic or backhanded in some effort to deter you. He didn’t think that you were stupid, not one bit. 

“Look, you know if I don’t get this thing working-” Draco couldn’t even finish his sentence before his throat closed around the words, threatening harsh sobs that he was desperate to contain. 

Instead, he turned abruptly, letting go of your arm - now completely uncaring of the misplaced conflict. You felt a wave crash into your chest as you realised it. He was right - how could you have been so stupid? 

Of course, he had no care for a small animal. 

It was about what that animal represented. His failure. Death looming over his head. 

The bird had obviously died in the cabinet, which meant that a living thing had yet to survive the transition from Borgin & Burkes into Hogwarts. If Draco couldn’t fix that problem - if there was some sort of problem when the Death Eaters tried to use the cabinet to get into Hogwarts and one of them died, then Draco would be on the line for it. 

They would kill him if he couldn’t get this right. 

Draco moved slowly, putting a hand on each of the cabinet’s doors and closing them. The harsh squeak of the old hinges resonating through the otherwise silent room spoke volumes. 

Then, for a few long, painstaking moments - neither of you said a thing. 

Your chest ached. You wished that you could find something comforting to tell him. For some reason, you knew that simply telling him ‘it’s going to be okay’ wasn’t going to cut it. You muddled in the silence and you hated it. 

He stood with his back still turned to you, with his arms outstretched, leaning on the tall, imposing wooden object. It felt like a shadow of death looming over the two of you. His shoulders held nothing but pure tension, even as he used the object for support. Soon, he took on a very unnatural, un-Malfoy slouch as he allowed his head to so tiredly droop down between his spread arms. 

After a few moments of that terrible silence, with you staring at his back, tossing your mind for something helpful to say as you chewed at your own lip - Draco took in a shuddering breath. Though you knew he was trying to hide it: he began quietly sobbing. 

You couldn’t help yourself then. 

It was something you knew that he pretended to hate, but you did it anyway. He could pretend to be annoyed with you if he wanted, but you both likely needed it right now. You stepped forward, over the dead bird, your shoes quietly clacking against the stone - and you settled yourself right up against his back, tucking your body tightly against him in a hug. You nuzzled your face into the tense muscles of his shoulders, and as you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind and squeezed him tightly, you felt some of the tension melt away as he unconsciously relaxed into your touch. 

You did worry about how much thinner he felt in your arms than the last time you had done this - obviously, he hadn’t been eating properly. But you didn’t bother to bring it up, not wanting to start another argument. 

Draco felt a grateful warmth spread over him. Still, he refused to touch you back. He couldn’t. At least not yet. 

He kept his hands on the wood of the cabinet, almost like a bold surrender, silently remarking that he would give into your touch, to your softness, but he wouldn’t return it. He couldn’t. He let out another shuddering sob - a sound he couldn’t contain now with the feeling of your warmth at his back. It was something he hated himself for. 

You hushed him gently. And then, miraculously, you found words. 

“We could leave.” You said quietly, turning your head so that your cheek sat parallel with his flesh, muttering the words against the fine silk of his button up shirt. “We could just… run away together. We don’t have to stay here, Draco. We could get to a fireplace and Floo out of here, or-” 

“We can’t.” Draco easily cut you off, stamping out the idea, his voice just as quiet, throttled by tears. “You know that we can’t.” 

You wanted to argue the point more. Obviously, he didn’t hate the idea. He just thought it was illogical. Likely, he thought it was too dangerous. But what was the alternative - possibly being killed anyway? Being tortured and then killed if he failed his mission? 

“If we leave, they’ll kill my parents because I couldn’t complete my mission.” Draco sniffled quietly. “At the very least, they’ll haul me in and have my head for being a traitor.” 

Draco straightened his stance then, taking his arms off the cabinet. You thought that he might remove your arms from his waist, finally rejecting your touch. But instead, he began tracing fingers from his right hand along the forearm of his left sleeve, almost scratching at it like it was a terrible itch. 

You had been there on the night when he had gotten the Mark. 

You had been brought into the room and forced to listen to his screams of pain before you even truly knew what was happening. When you had tried to comfort him about it, he had pushed you off so roughly that you had almost smacked your head into one of the walls - but you couldn’t bring yourself to be angry with him. You that he was taking that fear and pain out on you in that terribly misplaced way. 

Later that night, when he had been crying - sobbing harshly and running the freshly scorched skin under cool water - he let you run him a bath with soothing soaps. The two of you discussed Shakespeare’s plays (which you were surprised that he had read) while you washed his hair for him. 

“Now that I have the Mark, I can’t run anywhere.” Draco muttered quietly. “I can’t go anywhere that I won’t be found.” 

That part had never truly occurred to you before. 

You knew that the Dark Lord used the Dark Mark as a way for his followers to show their loyalty. The magic behind it also made it a way for him to summon them or even for them to summon him. Hearing his words, you guessed that Draco having it meant that he could be ‘summoned’ at any time as a part of the loyalty he had so unwillingly pledged. 

Even if he betrayed the Dark Lord morally, mentally, emotionally, and tried to do so physically by running away, as long as his arm was attached, he would still be in service to that horrible man until he and his followers decided otherwise. Especially because you couldn’t imagine Draco wanting to part with his arm anytime soon. 

“We’ll figure something out.” You told him, having little faith in those words yourself. You knew it was a truth that you had to speak into existence - otherwise, you were doomed. 

You laid a gentle kiss on his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, spreading more warmth through him. He clenched his fists at his sides, highly resisting the urge to reach for your hands, but silently hoping that you wouldn’t pull away. 

Draco resented your sense of hope. A lot of the time, he couldn’t help but to think that it was stupid - just your naivety poking through in a different way. Though, truthfully, in a lot of ways, he knew that your hope was the bravest thing about you. And these days, that hope was the only thing keeping him afloat in the chaotic sea that his life had become. 

Draco, unlike you, was a coward. 

He could come up with all the excuses he wanted not to run away, but truthfully - he was terrified. And every single day, his fear put you more and more at risk. 

… 

Draco thought back to a night at Malfoy Manor, when you had been having dinner with him and his parents. A night when, for the first time in his life, that streak of cowardice had somehow been broken. 

“Can you believe it? It’s completely ridiculous. A proposal to convert the entire Ministry from intern-departmental memos to this - this telephone nonsense!” 

Lucius ranted on as he cut into his food, taking out his aggression on the piece of meat in front of him as he recounted something that had happened a few months previous that still brought him particular frustration whenever he remembered it. 

“That Arthur Weasley is a stupid old bat, downright mindless, but even I can’t imagine where he gets theses ideas from-” 

“Telephones can actually be quite useful.” You piped up, interrupting his father’s ranting with a quiet, but polite comment. 

Without a word, all three others at the table stared at you as you continued to mindlessly poke at your dinner. Lucius glared daggers at you, his expression full of bitter venom, while Draco and Narcissa gave you the same distinct expression of shock - deer in headlights, mirrored over both their faces. Over the years, they had learned to simply be quiet and ‘listen’ to the rantings of their patriarch, especially if it was about the goings on at the Ministry, Arthur Weasley, or any number of other subjects that he knew he was right about. 

While at his own dinner table, Lucius Malfoy was not to be interrupted - much less corrected. 

You had just broken the golden rule twice over. You had interrupted him in the middle of speaking, and you had contradicted what he was saying. 

Draco’s gut clenched as he realised that he should have warned you beforehand to avoid such a faux pas. He should have told you that the dinner table was a place for quietly eating and answering direct questions in as few words as possible - not an open forum. 

Before he could apologise on your behalf, you opened your mouth again - doubling down on this accidental, horrible mistake. 

“Do you just find it confusing because you don’t know how they work?” You posed, reaching out to grab your glass for a sip of water, looking right at Lucius as you posed the question. “I know that a lot of Wizards who were born in the magical world can find Muggle technology strange and confusing, but-” 

Before you could finish speaking, Lucius reached off to the side and grabbed his cane, and brought down onto the centre of the table with an intense silent fury. He smashed your hand down into the glass that you had been holding, shattering it to pieces underneath your palm. Draco and Narcissa flinched at the sound and Narcissa backed her chair away slightly - but neither of them dared to speak, neither of them moved to confront him. In fact, Narcissa was very intentionally looking away, her eyes now glued to the floor. 

Draco could see blood pooling against the emerald green table runner, could see your flesh quivering in pain underneath the silver snake’s maw - but you stayed completely still, your eyes coldly locked on Lucius’ glare as he hovered out of his seat. Even with tears of pain dotting your eyes, your throat trembling as you held back cries - you kept a stiff jaw and refused to back down from the confrontation. 

It was braver than Draco had ever been, and he silently admired you for it. 

“If you think that stupid, filthy Muggles are so brilliant, then you can die like one.” Lucius ground out slowly, pure rage on his breath. “While you are living in my house, you will learn your place. You filthy, blood-traitorous slut.” 

Draco held his breath. He knew that if you backed down, if you shied away and admitted your wrong doing with silence or even an apology, then his father would let you go easily and then this would all be over. 

But of course - you weren’t going to back down easily. Not you. 

“And what place is that?” You remarked, pure snark in your tone. 

Draco’s throat clenched up. His father wouldn’t like that. 

Lucius lifted the snake’s bite off your hand, only for a second, and then - after placing down the cane, he sharply backhanded you. Draco knew that he wore thick, heavy rings on his hand and he worried for you - especially when you swayed on your seat for a moment before falling to the floor. The heft of the hit was enough to dizzy you, make you unstable and send you to the ground. 

“Your place is to be silent until I call upon you.” Lucius announced, seeming very satisfied with himself. 

Narcissa refused to look in your direction, and Lucius moved to sit back in his chair. For once, going against everything he had been taught since childhood, Draco rushed to get out of his. He knew that it would have been expected for him to ignore you. For you to be isolated in your pain. But he couldn’t help himself. 

Draco rushed to your side, collapsing onto his hands and knees before you - instinctively, he sheltered you in his arms, trying to get you upright again. 

“Y/N?” He croaked out quietly, only now realising how close he was to tears. 

“I’m fine, Draco.” You quickly lied. “I’m fine.” 

“Draco.” 

Lucius’ tone was entirely dead, almost calm, and somehow menacing in the same breath. Draco looked over your head, your slouched, defeated posture making you too small in his arms as he held you against his chest, and he caught his father’s eye as the man glared at him with pure violence dancing in his cold eyes. Any other time, Draco would have folded to that silent threat so easily. But with you there - with the feeling of you quivering against him, clearly holding in sobs - it truly injected boldness into him in those moments. 

You were such a fragile thing. For once in his life - something he needed to protect. Something only he could protect. 

“Draco, sit down.” His father ordered, clearly annoyed when Draco took too long to move away from you. “You haven’t been dismissed from my table yet.” 

Draco laid a gentle kiss on your forehead, and somehow, entirely against his own will, untangled you from his arms. When he stood, everyone in the room thought for certain that it was to comply with this order. But instead, he moved toward his father’s chair with sharp footsteps, putting on his best faux confidence and standing tall as he spat out his next words. 

“I swear to Merlin, if you ever put a hand on my fiance again, I will end you.” 

Naturally, Lucius didn’t find this threat to be the slightest bit intimidating. 

His father let out a dark chuckle, clearly amused by seeing Draco posture as a man when he knew that his son was nothing more than a spoiled, cowardly child. 

“Let’s not forget who bought you the little whore.” Lucius laughed. “There’s no need to get sentimental, Draco. You should be paying attention. Learn how to train up your wife now, before she becomes a disobedient brat. You should never let anyone talk to your father like that, remember, loyalty comes-” 

Draco took out his wand then, much to his father’s surprise. With it poised in Lucius’ direction, he received a sharp glare. 

“I understand loyalty perfectly well. Father.” Draco said, his voice short. 

“Incarcerous.” Lucius hissed sharply - then, as if out of nowhere, a thin black rope appeared and whipped around the middle of Draco’s neck. In an instant, it began tightening, choking him. 

Immediately, Draco dropped his wand and fell backwards, landing beside where you were still kneeling on the floor - you panicked as you watched him choking and gasping for breath. 

“Lucius!” Narcissa cried out, begging for the end of the conflict. 

The man ignored her. 

“You will learn to respect me in my own house, so help me, if I have to-” 

“Finite.” You held your good hand above Draco’s gasping face and muttered the counter curse, releasing him from the rope, performing an impressive feat of wandless magic to get him free.

Lucius glared at you once again, locking you and Draco in a harsh stare as you helped him sit up while he struggled to catch his breath. 

Before any further words could be said, Lucius pushed out his chair and stomped out of the room like a child having a tantrum, obviously upset that his intimidation and abuse had not gotten him the result he wanted. Narcissa said nothing, only giving you the saddest eyes as you helped Draco off the floor. The two of you left to go clean the glass out of your palm, spending the rest of the night locked in Draco’s room, licking your wounds in the relative comfort of each other’s silence. 

… 

That had been the first time Draco had ever properly stood up to his father. 

Draco still wondered if that was a good thing or not. 

Before he could venture any further into that very dangerous can of worms, you pulled Draco back to the present when you stepped back from the hug. Draco resisted the urge to pull you back, to steal more of your warmth. 

You noticed something out of the corner of your eye that caught your attention. 

A mattress laid out on the floor. 

It could have just been one of those random pieces of stray ‘junk’ furniture, but something about it caught your attention. For one, the fact that it hadn’t been in that position the last time you had been in this room. And two - there were a few random, stray blankets placed on top of it in what was very clearly an improvised sleeping area. As though someone had gone through the random objects in the room in order to compose a makeshift bed. 

With Draco’s bookbag sitting beside the mattress, open - you quickly clued into the truth. It was absolutely no trouble to figure out why you hadn’t seen much of him over the past week. He had been sleeping here. 

It was a revelation that shocked you. 

Especially considering that this looked quite shabby in comparison to the comfort of the Slytherin dorms. And you knew that at home, he was used to being spoiled with a thick, three foot tall mattress on a four poster bed and goose feather down pillows. So - why would he choose to camp out here? Why would he want to be closer to The Vanishing Cabinet - something that was actively giving him stress? 

“You’ve been sleeping here.” You said, disappointment ripe in your voice as you walked over to the mattress as toed at one of the blankets with your shoe. “Why?” 

“Why does it matter?” Draco huffed, picking up his jacket that you had dropped onto the floor and tossing it into the middle of the mattress. “Can you help me with The Cabinet or not?” 

“I can help.” You answered simply. “But I want to talk about this first.” You said, motioning toward the area where he had slept. 

Draco let out a sharp breath and turned around, rubbing his hands across his face in sharp frustration. 

For a moment, you thought that he was simply going to leave again, forcing you to chase him, trying to outrun the conversation. It had been a favourite tactic of his when the two of you had been living at his parents’ sprawling estate, a place that he knew much better than you did. The second that things got a bit too personal, he would slip into some random hallway or sneak off around a private corner, and it was like he had Disapparated - with how quickly he had moved, disappearing into the bowels of the house so that he could escape talking to you. 

You wouldn’t let him escape this time. 

You stepped up to him and put your hands on either side of his face, and he closed his eyes at the gentle touch. 

“Draco, please don’t hide from me.” You told him quietly. “You don’t have to be alone in all this. I know… I know I’m just some stupid girl that your parents bought for you, but I want to be a good wife for you. I want to be the person that you can come to with your problems.” 

Draco didn’t think of you as just some ‘stupid girl’. 

He didn’t think of you as a gift, as a purchased object that he could throw away like he had with every other toy that he had carelessly broken in his life. 

Honestly - you were the first real friend he ever had. You were the first person who was truly honest with him, calling him out on his bullshit, barring any consequences of his reputation or anything that his parents might do to you. You didn’t flock to him for popularity or status. You were forced to be near him, but you didn’t always act polite toward him by force. When your sweetness came to him, it was in waves. And it came along with sour notes and rudeness and harsh honesty that he needed. 

That kind of honesty was something that he had never experienced from anyone else in his life. 

And all of it was so incredibly genuine. 

You were someone who should have hated him, but you always smiled at him; someone who said his name with nothing but pleasantness in your tone, where others said it with venom or coldness. You were one of the first people he felt like he could open up to, and that was dangerous. 

Of course he was hiding from you. He needed to hide from you. 

He was a coward. And lately, the thing he feared most, even above losing his own life - was losing you. You were probably the only good thing he had ever possessed that was actually irreplaceable. If he lost you, he knew that he would never recover. He would actually willingly fling himself off the Astronomy Tower if he was somehow responsible for getting you hurt. 

That was what kept him at a distance. Hoping that he could actually grow cold toward you. Hoping that he could learn to genuinely hate you if he escaped from your sweetness. 

He also hoped that you would grow to hate him so that you could simply detach and go off on your own. You didn’t have The Mark, you could still run. At least before making your marriage vows, you could. But no - you were too good. You were too kind hearted to truly abandon him. 

And every time Draco saw you, he only became more nauseated with the realisation that he was becoming more and more fond of you. He would always look for your face in the crowd at the Great Hall, he would always wait for that smile to come across your lips when you locked eyes with him. 

And he couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle you. He couldn’t handle being the one responsible for the destruction of your life. 

So he spent more nights, longer nights in the Room of Requirement, slaving over The Vanishing Cabinet, writing down increasingly stupid plans for how he could kill Dumbledore without actually waltzing up and just murdering the man. He had to complete his mission if he was going to keep you safe. 

“Draco, please-” 

He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t listen to the sweet sadness in your voice curl around his name like a canary’s song, another sweet little bird ready to die by his hands. He couldn’t stand you talking to him like you actually cherished him - like he was actually something worth having. 

He reached up and gently cupped the side of your face, tucking his arm inside of yours to do so where you still held onto his cheek, the two of you becoming so entangled, just as he had feared. 

Then - he pulled you into a kiss. 

It was an addition to only about a half dozen kisses that the two of you had shared before this. And in an instant, this was the most desperate - emotions that he desperately wanted dampened off and hidden wringing through his lips and into yours. Entirely against his will, another hot tear escaped, and he let out a small gasp when you were quick to thumb it away. 

You wanted to cheer at the feeling of his lips against yours. You knew that before this, he was actively pulling away from you, putting himself in isolation, marching in his suffering alone because he thought that he had to. Or simply because he was used to it, from what you had seen of his home life. 

You knew what a horrible curse loneliness was, and you never wanted him to suffer through it. Especially not on top of everything else he was already going through. If he had to suffer through everything that his parents had put onto him, then at the very least, he didn’t have to suffer alone. 

Having his lips pressed so tightly to yours - it felt like progress. Feeling the whimper that echoed out from his throat as he held your face so delicately, like you were a perfect, soft doll - like you were something so precious - it felt like you had broken down a wall that he had been trying so hard for so many months to keep up as a barrier against you. 

This felt like saving him. 

It felt like doing what little you could within your limited power to create light in the darkness he was trudging through. Or at the very least, it felt like you could assure him that he wasn’t stuck in that darkness alone. 

After a few moments, Draco pulled away from the kiss. When he reached up to pull one of your hands away from his face, you worried that he might just shove you away and walk away altogether, finally coming to his senses against the affection. You worried that he would suddenly become cold toward you as he had done many other times, in an effort to turn you off. 

Instead - he surprised you. He did one of the most endearing, heart-melting things that he possibly could have done. 

He clasped your wrist gently between his cool fingers, thumbing along your pulse in a way that made you hold back a moan, and then he raised the heel of your palm up to his lips. With his eyes gently closed, refusing to look at you, he kissed along the fading scars that had been left there when his father had smashed your hand into a wine glass over dinner. 

The marks were something you didn’t pay much mind to these days, especially not with the ornament of your engagement ring as a much more pleasant distraction on that hand. But feeling Draco’s pillowy, light kisses grazing across your skin in the best, deepest apology he ever could have offered you - it made your stomach clench with overwhelming emotion as tears formed in your eyes. 

“Draco-” You choked on his name this time, and he moved your hand to sit on his shoulder as he turned his attention toward your face. 

Glassy, tear-kissed eyes faced your own, and you knew that there were no words for it. 

The universe had brought the two of you together in the strangest way and drowned the two of you in the most unpleasant circumstances. But you couldn’t help thinking that this is exactly where you were meant to be. 

“Hush now, darling.” He told you, his voice whisper-quiet, not daring to get much louder lest he risk breaking those tears in his throat. 

Darling. It was the first time he had ever called you that. He had thrown out the occasional snide ‘honey’ or ‘wifey’ in front of his parents or even behind closed doors, very rudely playing on the fact that he was supposed to treat you like a girlfriend, like his beloved. He thought it was amusing to taunt you with the sarcasm that he never actually would hold any true affection for you. 

This was the first pet name he had given you out of genuine affection. 

He pulled you back in for another kiss, and the moment his lips touched yours, Draco could feel himself losing it. The softness of your pillowy mouth against his, the way your fingers curled into his shirt, holding onto him like you truly needed him as an anchor. The little moan you let out - making him desperate to chase more of those sounds from you. 

All of it was slowly driving him insane, leading him further astray from his goal of detaching from you. 

He should have tossed you out into the hallway. He should have yelled at you, called you horrible names. He should have pulled out every single rude, bratty thing in his repertoire to make you absolutely hate him. Instead - he found himself getting lost in you more by the second. He found himself letting your softness roll over him in waves, turning him weak. 

Draco held the back of your head with one hand, pinning you into the kiss, holding you against his mouth like a dehydrated man would so desperately hold onto a decanter of water. You let out another sweet moan, louder this time, and he didn’t hesitate to shove his tongue past your lips, dizzy and needing to drink right from the source, wanting to devour you whole. He needed to see if he could taste the light that radiated out of you. He needed to see if he could find that fatal thing inside of you that made you have a fondness toward him. 

This was nothing like snogging random Slytherin girls out of boredom.

In that moment, Draco felt important. He felt needed. He felt like he served some grander purpose of good in the universe because you held onto him tighter, because you pulled him closer, because you kissed him back with ferocity and sucked on his tongue. Because you wanted him. He felt that if your attention shifted from him for even a moment, he would wither away and cease to exist because he only mattered under the warmth of your gaze. 

Draco felt like he was tempting fate when he moved his hands down your shoulders, down your back, daring to touch more of you - daring to ask for more. That he was playing with fire, letting his well-ingrained greed get the better of him once again. But he couldn’t help himself. 

He cradled his flat-handed touch across you with the intention to feel you in a way that he never had before. Yes, he had held you before - hugged you, pulled you close to him when he was stuck for words and wanting to comfort you, especially seeing as comforting words had never been a skill taught to him. But other than a few grazing touches against your hands or your cheeks, he had never dared to invite himself to the rest of your body. 

Before this, he had never touched you with lust on his mind. 

He had never truly thought of you as his property, something he could possess and own and take. He thought for certain, at any moment, you would push him away for being so brazen - and he would simply have to add this rejection to his pile of heartbreaks and move on. 

Instead, he felt something inside of him ease with relief when you sighed with delight - one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard. And then, in a moment so perfect, you leaned into his touches. You kept one hand tightly gripping the fabric of his shirt and the other reached up and wound into his neatly slicked hair, instantly messing up the tresses and making them wild at the back. 

But he couldn’t care, not for a moment - especially not when you let out another sweet moan into his mouth and leaned your whole body into him, pressing against him so that he felt every inch of your gorgeous curves through the thin fabric of your dress. 

Draco had felt you pressed this close against his body before, but it had never been like this. 

Before it had been like a delicate bird being held in a cage - like some sweet, innocent thing he was trying to protect. 

But now, it was like a man truly feeling a woman. It was a potential husband truly seeing his future wife for the first time, and his body responded in the only way he could. He let out a shuddering moan and he felt his cock hardening up. Of course, he didn’t want you to feel it. He didn’t want this to happen. He shouldn’t let this happen. 

He was supposed to be distancing himself from you, not letting you dizzy him like he was some stupid lovesick fool. He was supposed to be severing these ties, not burrowing himself further inside of you. (And just that thought sparked a certain imagery in his mind that made his cock twitch and swell to full mast. Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant. He was a fool.) 

Draco pulled back from the kiss and you let out a disappointed sound - like the creek of an old door, tired and waning. 

Draco forced his hands back to his sides, despite how fantastic the warmth of your flesh felt under his touch. 

When he tried to step back from you, you refused to let him go. The grip you had in his hair caused a small twinge of pain across his scalp, and he was forced to open his eyes. The look on your face - kiss bruised lips, eyes still closed, a quiver across your chin, filled to the brim with disappointment, likely knowing what was going through his mind - it made him weak. It gave him pause. 

He was too damn weak. 

“Y/N-” He said your name in a whisper - about to tell you that the two of you shouldn’t be doing this, but you cut him off. 

“Draco, please.” You whimpered quietly. “Please, don’t push me away right now.” 

He reached up and gently gripped your forearm. He should have used the touch to untangle you from him, but he found that he didn’t have the strength to. Whether it was a mental strength or a physical one, he wasn’t even sure. 

“I need this.” You whispered, your voice hoarse and strained, and for the first time that he had ever heard - desperate. “I think you do too. Please.” 

He was a horrible, selfish man - but he told himself that a good husband would never deny you of your needs. 

Draco swept you into another kiss, wrapping one of his arms around your back, firm and protective as he always had been, determined to serve your needs with more ferocity than ever. While you moaned into his mouth, he guided you backwards until your ankles hit the edge of that mattress. The one he had been sleeping on to flee from this big, horrible thing that had been building between the two of you that had now crashed down upon his head with inevitability. 

Even dizzy from the feeling of his lips on yours, you instantly understood the wordless signal. He laid you down on it as gently as he could, taking the gravity in slow pauses rather than simply letting you fall backwards, and as he fixed some of the blankets under your head like a makeshift pillow, you felt like a queen, being treated with the highest affection and handled with the most gentle hands that her beloved could muster. 

Part of you yearned for a rougher touch, to see Draco let loose on you - but you knew that this was what he needed. He needed to treasure something. He needed to know that he could have something good that wouldn’t end up dead or broken because of him. 

Draco paused above you for a moment, holding himself there with a hand beside your head - he felt a pure, stabbing pain in his gut when he looked down at you and all he could see reflected back up at him was pure, shining, sickening love. Your eyes practically glowed with it in the dimly lit room. He didn’t want to admit it then, but he knew he was so utterly fucked. 

He felt a curse curling up inside him - the urge to mirror that back to you but the inability to proclaim it. Feeling like he was some filthy dead thing that would never truly mean anything to you while wanting so badly to be the solid earth beneath your feet that you needed to function, he wanted to be your everything. His voice became strangled in his throat and instead of making that impossible proclamation, his body moved frantically as he began kissing down your neck. 

It was a worship - it was a proclamation in silence. It was all he could muster, but he hoped that it would please you nonetheless. 

Please. 

He whispered wordlessly against your skin, tonguing along the planes of your neck as you moaned for him so beautifully. 

Please, notice me. Find me worthy. 

After lavishing gentle attention across your neck and your clavicle, coating you in salvia that cooled across your skin and made you shiver, he reached your bust line and easily buried himself there. He nestled along the skin so tenderly that you found your heart wanting to burst out of your chest to reach his lips, your hands coming up to cradle the back of his head in what you hoped was an equally tender gesture while he laid the sweetest, simple open-mouthed kisses in your cleavage. 

This was a Draco that you had never seen before. This was not the surly-mouthed, harsh, bitter man you had come to know. And if you had fallen for glimpses of his sweetness before, then you were quickly being catapulted off the edge into full on adoration. Into something deeper and much more dangerous. 

“Draco, please.” You moaned out, pushing your chest further into his touch, somehow already breathless and beating hard between your thighs for him. 

Of course, he thought. More. 

She deserves more. 

Draco moved the hand that was supporting himself to push into the mattress beside your waist, holding his weight there now. And then, he used his other hand to reach into the front of your dress. He felt lucky when you sighed with delight rather than revoking his permission to touch you, even though his fingers were cold and icy upon your breast as he moved the fabric of your dress and the cup of your bra off to the side. 

This left the deep V of the wrap sitting at your ribs, presenting one of your breasts to the open air, an absolutely beautiful sight as your nipple pebbled up with the coolness of the room. He didn’t leave the flesh cold for long before he cupped your breast with tender fingers and fed your nipple into his hot mouth, eagerly sucking - as though he could communicate better every tangled bit of emotion he felt for you with the intricate swirls of his tongue. 

“Draco!” 

You moaned and arched up into his mouth, encouraging him further to explore the beauty of your breast with his tongue. 

You surprised him slightly when you moved underneath him, parting your legs and moving to bracket your knees around his narrow hips. He couldn’t help but to moan against your breast when he felt the overwhelming heat of your core settle against his cock. Even through his trousers, with your dress pooling up around your waist, it was like feeling the morning sun kissing your face after opening the curtains. It was a wave of warmth that threatened to overtake him. 

Draco couldn’t hold back the instinctive movement, and he ground his hips downward, seeking more of that addictive heat, needing more of it on his hard, aching cock. He felt as though he had found liquid euphoria when you let out a crackling moan in response, the sound shaking everything inside of him that made him actually feel good for once. 

The feeling was enhanced when you threaded your fingers into his hair harder, your fingernails scraping across his scalp as your body echoed a natural response to him - you clamped your thighs down on his hips, trapping him there, and you began to grind yourself into the hardness of his cock, clearly needed more for yourself. 

He knew that he shouldn’t be allowed to have this - he shouldn’t be allowed to taint something as perfect as you. But he let himself continue to selfishly take, and take, and take more. He was a greedy brat, as he always had been, and he couldn’t bear to change his ways now. 

“Oh fuck, Draco.” You moaned out so sweetly. 

Draco pulled back, and began kissing along the side of your breast. 

“Shh, darling. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He said quietly, swallowing sharply, desperately trying to chug in more air. 

He had no clue when he had become so light-headed, but if you were the thing making him so dizzy, so distant from reality - then you were his fondest drug, and he was never going to let you go again. 

Draco descended then - he had the utmost urge to please you, to hear more of his name on your lips. 

A near feral groan escaped him when he finally caught a glimpse between your thighs. 

With that silver skirt pooled around your waist, he could see properly now - those black stockings that he already thought were too sinful now took on a whole new meaning in his realm of fantasies. You weren’t wearing any panties beneath the semi-transparent garment - the thick seam of the stockings was stuck to your wet cunt, dipping into your pussy right where he wanted to be; your wetness leaking right through the nylon and causing it to stick to your cunt, making it shiny and utterly perfect in the dimly lit space. 

Draco groaned from deep in his chest, his voice edging on whiny, even to his own ears. But he couldn’t bring himself to care about how pathetic he must have sounded. You were just too perfect. He was drawn in by the siren call of your perfect cunt, one hand with a thumb drawing circles on your hips and the other gently skimming fingers up the back of your clothed thigh as he scooted himself further down the mattress. 

He couldn’t resist the urge, when he leaned down, he latched his mouth onto your cunt through the wet, shiny fabric, unable to resist the pure need to taste your essence without taking off the stockings first. 

“Draco! Oh-!” 

You let out a needy moan, which only spurred Draco to suck harder, even tonguing sharply against your clit through the fabric. It created a sharp itch, a raging need - it was not enough contact, tedious and harsh and something that made a vicious, rolling ache inside of your cunt. You needed more. 

“Please, more!” 

Again - he would have been cruel to deny you. And though, up until this point, he had been a reluctant and unwilling paramour, he was nothing but a slave to you and your desires in those moments. 

Acting purely upon instinct, he raised his head slightly to give himself room to work and then brought fingers to the nylon fabric, trying to tear it apart. His head was filled with nothing but animal need now, bloated and high on the affection that he had been denying himself for months he had been unwillingly engaged to you. Months of denying that you were exactly what he needed, his other half - the other half of a lonely broken person clinging on that he had been so desperately trying to shake off. 

Draco let out a growl of frustration - his nails were blunt and dull and he slipped hopelessly against the wet fabric. Before it could truly be formed as a thought inside his mind, he leaned down and pressed his teeth into the stockings against your mound, right above your clit in a way that made you whimper from the contact. Then - he bit harshly into the fabric, tearing a small hole into it that he could then rip wider with his frantic hands. 

It made you gasp, being exposed to the cold air within seconds - feeling your hot, pulsing cunt quake as the cool air licked at every single bit of your wetness. It was a shocking turn-on, feeling the seam of your tights being so easily demolished, leaving you as nothing but a wanton, exposed gash from the bit of your pubic hair sticking out to the way the new edge of the fabric rubbed against your arsehole. 

Now, instead of being a gentle thing he had to protect or some stranger that he was trying to distance himself from - you were nothing but a hole for him to fuck. And you absolutely loved it. 

“Draco, please-” You gasped out again, feeling his fingers tickling against your thigh, feeling his breath still huffing out in harsh pants over your now bare pussy, waiting for him to do something more. 

You were struck by lighting when he latched onto your cunt, moaning just as loudly as you did when he was finally able to taste you, able to feel you completely unfiltered for the first time. 

You arched up wildly and your thighs quaked against his cheeks - he made little effort to hold you down, too busy selfishly enjoying your pussy now. He took in a deep breath against you, inhaling a greedy whiff of your scent so close to his nose while he gulped down a filthy slurp of your warm, wet pussy, moaning loudly from the back of his throat the whole time. You were so hot under his tongue - you were a heartbeat, a new breath, something so alive that he certainly shouldn’t have been allowed to drink from. 

But you were now his to freely feast upon, as if he wasn’t already spoiled enough by the world, tainted by the mangled silver spoon he had been gnawing on since his birth. 

“Draco, fuck! So good!” 

You wailed out, letting out sounds that Draco had never before heard, sounds he never thought you were capable of. Back at The Manor, even when you cried, you clearly tried to be conservative, stay quiet, not to be a bother. It was only now that Draco realised he had never truly witnessed you losing control of yourself. Even when you had faced down his father’s fury, you somehow stood tall and composed, an impeccable monument to emotional control. 

It was only now that he realised how truly badly he wanted to see you lose that control. 

He never thought of you as property, of course - but if you were so stubbornly intent on owning his heart, his emotions, his vulnerability - then he would get to own yours as well. He would get to own your weakness. He would get to own the single moments in life when you truly lost your composure. 

Draco set about devouring your cunt, keeping this mission in mind. He wrapped one arm around you from underneath your ass, holding you tightly to his face while he used the other hand to prop himself up slightly, pushing closer, easily getting lost in the beautiful heat of your pussy. He moaned against you as he drank you in, lavishing his tongue up and down your folds, intently focusing on the perfect little bead of your clit while it bounced and thrummed over his tongue. 

Your body sang for more of his attention, shaking like a signal for him as you were wracked with more uncontrollable moans. He heard more distant groans in his muffled ears and hardly attributed them to himself, getting too lost in you, enjoying your taste too much. He was far too intent on burying himself in the first warmth he had felt in years, now determined to shut out the cold and make a new home for himself between these perfect thighs. Especially if it meant making you moan like this more, hearing more of his cursed name on your precious lips. 

“Draco, Draco, oh, fuck! Draco, please!” 

At this point, you weren’t even entirely sure what you were begging for - for him to bring you to orgasm, for him to stop because it was so overwhelming, or for something else entirely. His name just felt so right on your lips. Somehow, he seemed to understand better, seemed to know something that even you didn’t. 

He rumbled out a hum of acknowledgement against your cunt, and then, snuck his free hand up between your thighs. He teased two fingers against your fluttering entrance, slippery and off-target for a moment with his shaking hand - making you moan out brokenly as you felt the touches not quite where you needed them most. 

“I’ve - I’ve got you, love,” 

He said, pulling away for a moment to gulp down breaths - feeling spiteful of the air, spiteful of the minimal space between the two of you; spiteful of the fact that he felt like he was drowning and somehow forcing himself further into you wasn’t the solution. 

“I’ve got you.” 

You curled your fingers into his hair again and tugged him close, pulling him back to your pussy, and he decided that he would never breathe again if that’s what you so desired. He swept a flat tongue across your pussy, eagerly gulping down more of your wetness while he gently pushed those two slender fingers forward, finally inside of you for the first time. 

Your heat was even more evident now, even more apt to drive him insane. Your pussy surrounding him turned his cold flesh warm within seconds, causing him to drive forward without even thinking, eagerly chasing more of that warmth against his touch. Part of his mind was thankful when you let out a beautiful moan in response and wiggled your hips closer to him, rather than feeling pain at the harsh, sudden, jabbing intrusion, and the other part of him selfishly didn’t care. 

You had offered this up to him, you had begged him not to turn away - and now, you would have to face the consequences of inviting a cold, dead beast into your den to feast. He was lonely, he hungered - he would consume everything good inside of you and leave you with nothing. And it would be your own damn fault. 

Draco moaned against your cunt again, feeling that hunger now more evidently than ever, and you squeaked and choked on the air as he began fingering you harshly. He was desperate to feel more warmth, to explore more of that velvet softness inside of you that he so badly wanted wrapped around his cock (nearly forgotten, throbbing, leaking into his pants and making a mess). But he somehow couldn’t think too much about his forgotten cock when your next words overtook his mind. 

“Close-” You breathed out, and then sucked in more air. “So close - gonna cum!” 

You were going to cum. 

You were going to become unravelled on his tongue. 

Draco moaned against you fervently, now wildly eager for this to happen. He suckled against your clit and harshly rubbed his tongue over that tortured little bead even more furiously. He continued to fuck you with his fingers while your thighs clamped around his head, further shutting out the world, allowing him to have a few precious moments where all those deadly responsibilities simply didn’t exist. In those moments - it was just you and him. It was just his own carnal greed, a man fucking his wife. Just the small precious world he had balanced on his bitter tongue. 

“Draco!” You choked out his name as your orgasm overtook your body. 

You arched up again, your body practically whipping to his whims, being played like an instrument that only he knew the songs to. With your fingers entwined harshly in his hair, holding him to a place he would never want to part from while he mauled your pussy - it was perfect. 

He moaned against you and nearly choked on the juices that he eagerly drank down, pumping his fingers into you with sharp jabbing motions, any effort toward technique completely gone. His mind was nothing but a pathetic soup of desperation, an animal clawing toward your warmth, determined to suck the life out of you and have it for his own. 

Your cries of pleasure turned into sobs as you were crested over the hill into overstimulation, and when Draco pulled away for a breath, you thought perhaps he might finally let up. That he might pull his fingers out of you and the two of you would simply take a quiet moment to breathe. 

But while your thighs continued to shake and you sucked in harsh breaths, his shoulders became tight with something utterly vicious, and he continued to stare down your pussy with rapt attention, some beast inside of him screaming out for more. More of the life you could give him, more warmth, more of everything he would ever demand from you that you had been so foolish in offering up. More of everything that you would never supply enough of to meet the bounds of his already dead soul. 

“Draco-” You gasped. “Too much, too-” 

“Please,” 

Draco begged in return for the first time that night, peering up the length of your body to look into your eyes with the most utterly pathetic glassy eyes you had ever seen. The moment he met your gaze, it became too much for the both of you - like a stab through the gut, a connection that had always been there being tugged in the most painful way. He quickly dropped his head, squeezing his eyes shut to further avoid this, pressing his forehead into your thigh as he continued to sharply spear his fingers into your pussy. This created sloppier, wetter sounds with each passing movement. 

“Please, please, please, please, please-” 

He pleaded so sweetly, yet so abrasively at the same time. Begging in a chant, in a way he never had for anything else in his life. 

And just like everything else in his life - he wasn’t denied of this. 

You strangled out another sound, and then you were seizing up again, squeezing his fingers tightly as you were slammed into another orgasm all too soon. You gulped for air like a mermaid on dry land, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes due to how overwhelming it all was, feeling as though the entire world was squeezed tight around you in those moments. 

Draco held a sob tight in his chest as the unknown ‘more’ he had been looking for flooded over his palm - more of your wetness, more of your warmth. A wonderful flood of more that soaked across your thighs and made a small puddle on the mattress beneath you. He greedily dove down to lap it up, making your thighs clench around his head as he tongued your ultra sensitive entrance and even began using his fingers to drive more of it out of you and into his waiting mouth. 

After a few moments of this, you tangled shaking fingers into his hair and did your best to force him upward. Though your body was practically jelly now, almost as if you had been jinxed, and completely devoid of any strength. He did soon get the hint, and he laid a gentle kiss on your inner thigh as he slid his fingers out of you, making an oddly loud ‘squelching’ sound in the room. 

He trailed a few more kisses across your pelvis, revisited your breast, and went up your neck with his now very wet mouth before you pulled his mouth against your own. You couldn’t help but to moan quietly in satisfaction at the taste of your pussy on his tongue. 

Draco thought this might be the end of it. His own cock was even more nagging now - rubbing against the warm, inviting plushness of your thigh through his pants. It was even more annoying now that he intimately knew the warmth and wetness of your cunt. That he could so perfectly imagine what it would be like to slide his cock inside of you and feel that perfect, hot wetness surrounding him. 

But part of him, something in the back of his mind was screaming: bad idea. Something persistent and loud was telling him that he didn’t deserve to fuck you. That this should be a worship, only about you - he’d had his selfish moment, it was over now. 

An alarming clarity was rocketing back into his head as he continued to kiss you. 

It was an alarm that blared ever louder when you reached for his belt. 

He snapped away from your lips and looked down, frozen with hesitant shock now as you slipped the belt out of the buckle and reached for the zipper on his pants. When you felt him tense up, and saw the grimace forming across his features, you paused with your fingers grazing lightly over the zipper’s teeth. 

“It’s your turn now, right?” 

You breathed lightly against his cheek, your voice so sweet, so perfect. You were too damn perfect. You snuck your hand down to grope his cock through the fabric of his pants in a way that made him shudder. Oddly enough, that selfish streak didn’t creep back in. 

“Come on, Draco. I want this too. I want your cock inside me so damn badly-” 

This was about you. Your needs. Your wants. 

Draco tried his best to push aside any hesitation, trying to push the world back out again. He wished he could just crawl back between your thighs and live there. But you wanted something different now. Something that meant a lot more. Something that might have bigger consequences than simply spilling a beautiful mess on his jacket that was crumpled beneath your perfect arse. 

He sat up on his knees, shucking away your hands and replacing them with his own, getting the zipper down by himself. Finally, he got his cock out, the hard smoothness now resting against his fingers that were still slick with you. He pumped his cock a few times, almost numb to the pleasure of it - he was supposed to be enjoying this, right? Why the hell couldn’t he? 

Because his damn mind had turned back on. 

You looked up at him with wide eyes, anticipating, your skin glistening with a slight sheen from his earlier efforts, your lips kiss-swollen. And somehow, a terrible flurry of thoughts attacked his mind like the snow storm raging outside the stone walls of the castle. Horrible things all able to get in now that he didn’t have the fatal projection of your thighs around his ears, keeping the world out. 

As you looked up at him, more angelic than ever with your kiss-bitten lips, your silver sparkle dress askew, revealing your smooth skin and your goddess-like body - Draco, with his hard cock in hand, was persistently reminded of one stupid thing. The reason that the two of you had been forced together in the first place. 

The only reason any pureblood marriage is arranged: to carry on the pureblood line. To breed - to make more pureblood babies.

Draco found himself curling in disgust at the idea that this was what he was about to do. He was about to give into their whims, about to curse you even further with the evil of his name by fucking a little Malfoy into your belly. 

Somehow, out of all the evil he had so carelessly committed himself to - this was something he just couldn’t bring himself to do. Not when he would be doing it to you. 

“Draco-” 

You breathed out his name again, concerned by the clear warring on his face. You were about to tell him that it was okay if he didn’t want to continue - and you became deeply confused by what he did next. 

He gripped his cock tightly and began rocking his arm back and forth, quickly picking up an urgent, break-neck pace as he jerked his cock - his face twisting with an expression of near pain as he circled a tight fist over his cock, urgently, again and again. 

“Draco-?” You tried to question him, but he let out a groan in response. 

“Look at me.” He choked out. 

Zapped by the electricity in the air, the sharp demanding in his words, your eyes flew right to his. You found yourself almost possessed by the emotions lingering there - lust, regret, hatred. 

You had a distinct feeling that it wasn’t directed at you. 

“It’s okay.” You breathed out, reaching out to put a gentle hand on his clothed thigh. “It’s okay, Draco.” 

These simple words - this tiny pacification that Draco had never before received - he broke. Your gentleness tore through his body like a dragon tearing into a fresh kill. It wounded him in a way that insults never could. 

He let out a strangled cry, and unexpectedly, his orgasm punched through his gut - tears flooded his eyes as weak spurts of cum flowed out of his cock, making a mess of his fist as he slowed his touch. His release dripped down to ruin his pants, and weakly splashed against the bareness of your inner thighs were the hole in your tights gaped open, smearing onto the nylon in some spots. 

When Draco was sure that he had wrung the last bits of weak pleasure from his cock, he fell on top of you. It was something entirely against his will, as he was now all too weakened by your soothing words, your soft touch, your welcoming eyes that seemed far too forgiving toward him. With his face tucked against your breast, tired and unable to hold it back any longer - he began to sob. 

It was a dam broken from months, possibly years - a mask that he had been putting on long before you had ever known him. 

It was an inherent shock to your system, going from that lustful tingle to feeling nothing but shock and pity for him. But you did the only thing you could do - you cradled the back of his head, holding him close, petting a hand down his heaving back in an attempt to comfort him while he wailed so harshly. You knew that it was what he needed. And it was what he had done for you all too many times since meeting you. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” 

You assured him, not entirely sure that he heard your gentle voice over the sound of his own sobs - your throat too sore from your own previous wrecked moaning to try and speak up any louder. 

“It’s okay. Shh. Just let it out. I’m here with you. It’s okay, Draco.” 

It went on like that for what felt like hours. Your previously sex heated skin became cold in the room once again, distinctly reminding you of every single spot that was ripped open and exposed by your already weather inappropriate outfit. But instead of getting up to attend to this, you simply laid there, soothing him, trying to comfort him as his chest-racking sobs lulled down into calmer cries and then died off into sniffles. 

You thought he might say something - thank you, apologise. 

You were even further surprised when his sounds switched again, and a low chuckle came from his throat. A small sound that quickly hitched into an epic, near maniacal laughter, puffing against your breast as he tried his hardest to heave himself up on weak arms, tearing out of your comforting touch. 

He looked utterly broken - his previously near hair a complete mess, falling across his sweat streaked forehead, his teeth bared, laughing so tiredly with tears streaking down from his now red, puffy eyes. 

“Merlin - I’m so fucking pathetic, aren’t I?” He choked out. 

“You’re not.” You argued, your voice dull and hoarse but still firm in your conviction. 

You wanted him to know that it was okay to cry. That under his circumstances, anybody would have snapped a lot sooner than he had. 

He didn’t reply, but instead moved to get off you entirely. He stumbled on his feet for a moment as he stood up and began straightening out his clothes, finding his wand and muttering some cleaning spells to deal with the mess he had left on his pants. 

You sat up then, your back now quite sore from the poor quality of the abandoned old mattress. And from having Draco stiff on top of you for so long, and you began doing the same to yourself. He watched quietly as you righted your clothes and did a few simple (talented, wandless) cleaning spells of your own, and then finally, he spoke. 

“You should leave.” 

He said quietly, moving to turn away from you completely as he tucked his shirt back into his pants. He was likely going to slip into the confusing maze of furniture that he knew better than you did in order to lose you - to avoid further conversation. 

“No.” 

You baulked out defiantly, making an effort to heave your stiff body up to standing level in order to look him in the eye. 

“You can’t keep doing that!” You shouted at his back, growing frustrated once again. “You can’t keep running away from a conversation every time it gets a little too serious for you!” 

“What do you expect that I do, then?” Draco asked, his voice strained with fatigue and heaviness, his throat worn out from the tears, his eyes still red and exhausted when he whipped around to face you. 

“Stay.” You offered weakly. 

You knew that in one simple word, you were asking too much of him. You were putting such a grand task onto him that he could barely surmount to. 

His chin quivered as he bit his lip, swallowing down the weakness of the confession: 

I can’t. 

He wanted to be good enough for you. 

But he wasn’t. He just wasn’t. 

He wasn’t some perfect harbor you could cling to in a storm. He was a heavy iron anchor sinking you to your drowning death. 

Feeling all of his bitterness swelling in the air, something truly defiant came up inside of you. A deep urge to defy everything he thought he was, everything his parents had painted into him that made him run from you the moment you treated him like a person. 

You would not have a marriage where your husband held you at arm’s length. Even if you had to strangle him, smother him with your good intentions in order to get him close. 

“Draco, please, I lov-” 

“No.” Draco choked out, cutting you off, dreading hearing those words. “Don’t.” 

It wasn’t true. 

You were tied to him by force. 

You were someone bought into his life through gold and cruelty, someone forced to be by his side. 

If you loved him, it was as a prisoner loves their cell. 

He wouldn’t let you waste those words on him. 

You let out a harsh sigh and shook your head, wanting to scream. But you knew that he was far too used to screaming - used to harshness, frustration. He wasn’t prepared for the thing you needed to give him most. You swallowed thickly around the lump in your throat, and whispered your next words as a cursed promise into the chilled air: 

“I love you, Draco.” 

He sucked in a rattling breath, and it only took him a moment to find the strength to fight back. 

“You don’t mean that.” 

He said, shaking his head forcefully at you, once again resisting the urge to turn around and slink off. He wanted to slither away and hide from you like the serpent that he was - cold blooded, alone, a creature of the shadows who previously never needed your warmth. 

“Shut up!” 

You barked back, surprising him with the passion, the fury that lit up your face as you rambled into your next declaration. 

“Draco Lucius Malfoy - you may think that you know everything, but I can assure you, you do not.” 

He wanted to argue, even opened his mouth to do so, but you rolled right over his breath, speaking in such a powerful way that demanded he quiet down and simply listen. 

“Your family may have bought me to marry you like some kind of broodmare, you may be rich and respected, you may be some fancy highborn pureblood - you can tell me what to wear, when to speak, where to go, but you certainly cannot tell me about my own thoughts and intentions. You cannot tell me what I feel.” 

You spoke sharply and firmly, your words tearing right through him, causing goosebumps to light up all over his skin. 

“You cannot tell me what I do and don’t mean. And I mean this: I love you.” 

The radical truth behind your words shook Draco to his core. 

Since he had known you, it had always been the truth. When you cried, it had always been with your own honesty. When you smiled at him, it had never been as some kind of act. When you called him an asshole during your private conversations - it was nothing but your own honest feelings coming to words. 

He could never control or dictate your feelings, and it was one of the things that he liked best about you. 

So why did he so badly want to control this? 

Perhaps because… when you said this, it sealed your fate to his in the worst of ways. 

It meant that even if you had a chance to escape this life… you wouldn’t take it. 

It was so much easier when you didn’t like him at all. 

Love was such a foolish, difficult thing to sever. 

You saw the pain and hesitation written all over his face, and you stepped toward him, putting a gentle hand on his cheek. Oh-so-gently you sealed your lips against his in a sweet kiss that evoked nothing but more tears from him. 

“I love you.” 

You whispered against his mouth, now much more certain in your declaration. 

“I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you,” 

Your throat clenched with your own tears, clearly waiting for him to say it back. 

His fingers shook as he brought a gentle touch to your cheek, wiping away a tear that had fallen. Sullenly, all he could offer you in return was: 

“Are you sure? Are you sure that you can love someone like me?” 

You were entirely certain in your answer. 

“Yes.” 

Draco itched with the urge to run away again - but instead, he leaned back in and kissed you. 

That night, the two of you fell asleep together. You were huddled into each other for warmth, cuddling on the thin old mattress that he had been sleeping on for the past week in order to escape you. It was the easiest that sleep had come to him since the days during the summer where you had crawled into his bed, looking to be just a bit less alone. 

… 

Ironically, Draco woke up alone. 

Sunshine was flooding the room - he wasn’t entirely sure how a room that technically didn’t exist within Hogwarts could have windows, but he didn’t care to think too much about it. Especially because it made him feel slightly less disoriented to have the bright morning sun flooding the room. Though the sunshine warmed up the room slightly, he still felt a bitter coldness in not having you beside him. 

Perhaps you had finally realised what a stupid mistake you had made the night before. Perhaps you had taken your own advice - taken up on your own plan and gotten to a fireplace to abandon Hogwarts altogether. With any luck, you were far away and would never be seen again. Not by him or anybody else associated with the Dark Lord. 

Draco felt a pinch of disappointment when he heard footsteps - calm, certain, someone walking a path among the furniture to be somewhere. Not someone wandering with curiosity because they had just discovered the room. It had to be you. 

He sucked in a harsh breath and let out a groan as his tired body stretched, his muscles protesting the shabby sleeping arrangements as he forced himself to sit up. Surely enough, as he blinked through the sharpness of the morning light, you rounded the corner. 

You were dressed much differently than the night before. Your previously neat hair was now a half-picked apart and messy style, your make-up mostly smeared off or intentionally wiped off in a haste. You were wearing a thick woollen jumper and a pair of comfortable looking loose pants, along with your favourite slippers - a pair of very fuzzy boots that he had laughed at you for wearing before, called them dead Puffskeins attached to your feet. 

You looked tired, but comfortable as you came to sit on the mattress at Draco’s hip. 

Somehow, with the golden light dancing on your skin, you looked more beautiful than ever. Perhaps it was a testament to the nature of your beauty, how sought after you would be if you weren’t already betrothed. Or perhaps it was that petulant withering thing inside of him that was starting to wane in the name of your death sentence of love. 

(Draco didn’t want to think about the fact that you likely were sought after, despite the fact that you were engaged and it was widely known. He just didn’t have his head in the Hogwarts gossip enough these days to notice if anybody was talking about fancying you or trying to ‘steal you away’ from him. He didn’t want to think about the prats he would have hexed to hell and back if he ever heard them daring to want you.) 

You took something out of the pocket of your jumper - a napkin, and unravelled it in your lap. Draco saw that you had come back with a couple of pumpkin tarts, likely from the breakfast table. It was only when you brought it up to your lips to take a sip that he also noticed you had also been carrying a large mug of steaming tea. 

You offered him the mug silently over your shoulder, and he couldn’t deny how appealing it was. Though he wanted to scoff at the softness, the domesticity of sharing something off your lips, he welcomed the heat and the familiarity. He couldn’t reject it in the wintery coldness of the room. 

Of course - English Breakfast Tea with just a bit of sugar. No milk. You had started drinking your tea the way he liked it. Probably because it was the way he always made it for you when you were silent and stony in your pain and he had no other choice but to be just as silent in his caring toward you. He always made tea for you this way because you never told him how you liked yours. Every cup of tea you drank at The Manor had been like this. 

It was an odd, comforting habit that you had picked up from him. 

“I fixed it.” You said quietly, nodding toward The Cabinet as you broke off a piece of one of your tarts and chewed it. 

You offered him a piece and he swapped it for the tea mug. He chewed the small piece of tart slowly while his eyes studied the tall, dark, imposing Cabinet, wondering what you had done to it. His gaze migrated over to something new in the landscape of junk - a bird cage sitting on top of a small wooden table. 

Within it, there was a live, seemingly content, purring white dove. In front of the cage, you had perched up a piece of paper. Even from a few feet away, Draco recognised the curls of the handwriting as belonging to his mother. 

‘Well done.’ 

He wanted to ask in detail about what you had done to The Cabinet in order to fix it. But he knew that would be beating a dead horse. It was another problem off his plate, and he should be relieved. 

He wouldn’t burden you with any of his other problems. 

“I miss coffee.” You remarked, looking down into the mug with a sodden kind of resentment. “British people are all about tea, tea, tea… you can’t get good coffee anywhere here.” 

Distantly, Draco was reminded that you had been cursed with more than a marriage to him when your godmother dropped you off with the Malfoys and left you without warning. Your entire life, everything you had known, everything you had grown up with - it had all been ripped away from you. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he had to be pulled away from his parents, plopped into the middle of Muggle America and forced to live there. 

He knew it wasn’t just coffee - you likely missed so much more. 

“Should we release it?” You asked, taking another sip of the tea. 

You held out another piece of the tart to him, and reluctantly, perhaps not even knowing how hungry he was, how much the anxiety and worry had blocked him from feeling it - he took it. 

“What?” He muttered out, unsure what you meant. 

“The dove.” You clarified. 

Yes. Of course. You still had pity for the small creatures. It had been meant as nothing more than a test subject for his family’s greater plans, nothing but a pawn to them. But you still saw it as a precious life. 

“No, it-” 

‘It’ll die out there in the cold.’ 

Draco cut himself off, knowing that such harsh words would have hurt you. Any time before this, he would not have cared about how his words hurt you - he would have simply told you the truth. But for some reason, now - it felt wrong to be so bluntly cruel. 

“Too cold.” He muttered, accepting the tea from you again. 

You stared him down during this passing of the mug, and he was fully able to see that pain glinting in your eyes. Clearly, you knew that ‘disposing’ of the bird might be the only humane thing to do. Draco scrambled for something more. Something to make you happy. Damn it. 

“Bring it to the giant.” He remarked, swallowing down a mouthful of the hot tea. “He’ll care for it now, and he can release it in the spring.” 

The smile that graced your lips was small, and fleeting - but it made him feel as though he had accomplished something worthwhile for the first time in a long time. 

“Do you think he will? It won’t be too much trouble?” You replied, hopeful. 

“He has to. It’s his job.” Draco bit back firmly, his voice swelling full of his usual entitlement. 

Before - when you had been helping him clean up after he had gotten The Mark, you had discovered one of the fading scars he still had from the feathered beast’s claws slashing across his arm. When you had asked him about it, you had clearly been expecting some story of his father’s abuse, or a tale of something else attributing to Draco’s twisted internal torment. 

But Draco’s father was always smart enough never to leave marks. 

When he told you what had happened - how he had rushed upon such a gentle creature, reeking of entitlement and landed on his stupid idiot brat arse - it was the first time in years that he had truly reflected on what had happened. It was the first time he had come to realize that he had gotten the beast killed. Even back then, he was unsure why his father had caused such a fuss over the accident. Someone who called Draco useless and disposable behind closed doors and publicly claimed that a single mark on his arm was a world-ending tragedy. 

At the time, it was just another thing about reputation that Draco had yet to understand. 

“And - he likes those things. He likes his little creatures.” He added on quietly. 

(And, his big awful ones - Draco resisted the urge to amend.) 

Draco couldn’t take your bird there himself. Hagrid owed him no favors, that much he knew. But the man - or, half-man - certainly wouldn’t turn you down. Nobody would say no to your sweet voice and kind eyes when you asked them for something. 

You nodded, content with this answer. You took another sip of the tea before you put the cup down on the floor beside the mattress, and shoved a large piece of the tart into your mouth before you put that aside too. 

“For now, I have to bury this one.” 

You said, your words slightly muffled as you chewed, getting up to grab a small wooden box. In a moment, Draco realised that it must have been the dead canary that you had fussed over the night before. 

Now, you were telling him that you intended to bury it, rather than asking him. 

“I’ll do it.” He said, standing up to come beside you, holding out his hand so that you might offer him the box. 

You looked him up and down with suspicion, like he was trying to trick you. Although, as much as your relationship had been filled with bickering and discontent, he had never been dishonest with you. This just seemed strangely out of character for him. Before you could fully question it, he provided an explanation. 

“You’ve been awake all night fixing my problems,” He said, motioning toward The Cabinet. “So let me help you with yours.” 

He could see that you had barely slept. It was written all over you. 

“Let me do this for you.” He insisted, holding his hand out once again. “And you go to the dorms and get some proper rest.” 

You nodded, finally surrendering the box. 

“Come find me when you’re done, alright?” You said, not entirely posing it as a question. “Don’t disappear on me again.” 

Draco nodded, and you sealed this deal with a kiss. 

…

He intended to walk you back to the Slytherin commons before he went outside, perhaps he would even get himself a thicker jacket from his dorm. Your path took the two of you past the Great Hall. 

Draco felt a pang on one of his last nerves when a very familiar voice called out your name. 

“Y/N! Hey, wait up!” 

Potter. Of course. 

You turned to meet Harry as he ran down the corridor toward you, and Draco slinked back to lean against one of the nearby walls - waiting for you. He hated that he felt the need to stick by you, to watch over you. But something nagging in him wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew that you were tucked into bed, resting. 

Potter jogged to meet you, wearing full Quidditch gear, carrying his broom - clearly set for an early morning practice. This caused an odd pang of mourning within Draco, yearning for a time when he used to be competitive, for when he used to actually care about the outcomes of school Quidditch games. Back when his life was so simple. 

“Morning, Harry.” You greeted him quietly, dully, obviously still tired. 

“Hey, good morning.” Harry said, nodding at you with a smile - a look way too fond for Draco’s liking. “You left the party so suddenly last night, and Slughorn was asking after you. Nobody knew where you went, and I was just wondering - are you alright? Did something happen?” 

Harry eyed Draco sharply, a sideways glance, just for a moment. Clearly, he was suspicious of Malfoy and his presence around you. Clearly believing that he was the problem in your life. 

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. Saint Potter. Checking up on you. 

Part of Draco itched with jealousy, knowing just how utterly desirable you were, and another part of him said that it was a good thing. That you should have somewhere safe to fall when you inevitably realised a life with him was a short, unlivable one. When you wanted out, when you wanted to run. 

Hopefully, sometime soon. 

“I’m fine.” You easily lied, forcing a smile. “It’s just - um,” You struggled to think of a convenient lie for a moment, knowing that you couldn’t tell Harry the truth. “My pet canary died very suddenly. And Draco came to get me to tell me about it. And I’m sorry, I must look terrible - I’ve been up all night crying about it,” 

Draco wanted to commend you for the brilliance of your lie. Something sensitive enough that Potter wouldn’t question it - something that easily explained the small box in Draco’s hands and explained away your tired appearance. And it more than explained why you had left the party so suddenly and not cared to return. 

“Oh.” Harry said, clearly unsure how to respond. His eyes flickered from you to Draco, taking in both of your messy appearances, clearly wanting to question it as something more, but having absolutely no grounds to do so. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” 

“Thank you.” You replied quietly. “Draco actually offered to bury him for me. So, he was just going to do that.” 

“Let’s get you to bed, first, love.” Draco said, pointedly steering you away from the conversation - banishing Potter off with this final thought. 

He put a hand on your shoulder and steered you down the hall, away from Harry, and you began slowly walking away, believing that he was right behind you. But Harry stayed firm in his footing, and soon, Draco became captured in his fierce gaze, challenged in an all too familiar way that he was far too tired to truly engage with. In a kind of well practiced routine, he lingered back for a few moments. 

“Malfoy,” Potter said sharply. “If you do anything to hurt her, I will end you.” 

It was his usual hero routine. Intimidate, swell with confidence, over-inflate to seem bigger than the bad guy. It would have worked, if Draco hadn’t already been so terribly small. 

“Promise?” Draco croaked out quietly, tears dancing in his eyes. 

He could think of no better end than one of vengeance in the wake of your pain. He could only hope that if he did ever hurt you, he would be met with a clean, swift end. One where you would then get to run into the arms of a man much better than him. 

Potter gaped with confusion, and Draco turned, walking in quick steps to catch up with you. 

…

You and Draco stayed at Hogwarts that Christmas. 

On Christmas morning, you did not expect to receive anything. Pansy gifted you a set of new quills in pink with a set of pink glittering inks and a fluttering giggle about being able to write ‘proper’ love letters to Draco. Blaise gifted you a history of all the Pureblood families in Europe - for ‘proper’ education. One that you had never been ‘privileged’ to have before. 

There was another package, delivered by a gorgeous white snowy owl - a book. A basic guide to Quidditch with a handwritten note that said it was from Harry, remarking that you should come to his next game and ‘check it out’, in order to see if you truly liked the sport or not. 

At the party, you had told him that you probably didn’t like Qudditch because you didn’t understand it very well, hoping to get out of a long conversation that he and Cormac were rambling on - which only led to him trying to explain the rules to you in a toddler-like fashion. You couldn’t tell him the truth, that when you had been at Salem, the Quidditch games between the two sibling schools usually led to a lot of loud parties and drunken hook-ups that made you mourn for the simplicity of your old life now. 

Draco resisted the urge to throw the book into the fire. 

(You gladly would have let him.) 

There was a final package. One wrapped in gorgeous emerald paper - with your name on it, written in Draco’s handwriting. Oddly, not signed from him. When you opened it, you found a bag of very expensive looking coffee beans, a grinder, and a French press. Draco would forever deny that his joy was directly tied to the look of awe on your face as you discovered the gifts, and the tiny moan of pleasure you made when you sipped your first cup of freshly made coffee. 

He didn’t love you back. 

He couldn’t. 

No.

...

A/N: This is meant to be a standalone oneshot, but if you liked this, then feel free to go read the chronological sequel My Bleeding Heart. I do have more ideas to add more to this by writing more oneshots in this universe between these two characters, but this is all for now. If you are going to comment, please comment about the content that has already been written instead of asking for more. Happy reading, and Merry Christmas!

[butididntpourthewhiskeys]

I'm assuming that means it was good lmaooo

Mate this was the most spontaneous thing I’ve done in 28 years of life

[star-dust-shark]

pjo characters as weird and dumb things me and my friends have said

Percy: what the fuck is cockblocking like I can't block ur cock on Snapchat

-

Will: UUUUUUUGH MY ASS HURTS- ooh look a butterfly

-

Leo: I CANT FIND MY PRETTY STICKER- AW FUCK- SHIT- MY VAGINA- OOAOoOoOOooAHAHHAgh

-

Jason: I can't actually believe I just agreed with you but hey here we are

-

Reyna: why the fuck am I friends with any of you hoes

-

Piper: should I...? too late I did it

-

Will: the best way to rizz someone up is by rizzing them up *turns to friend, winks horribly* hey baby girl

-

Rachel: one sec getting my anger out *aggressively splatters paint on canvas*

-

Annabeth: sometimes I'm smart. When I'm smart, I'm smart. *awkward thumbs up and grimace*

-

Octavian: fuck the gays they should all die ... I mean I could fuck some gays

-

Hazel: I'll make you tea but not in a sweet way I'll make it so hot in burns your tongue and you can't speak for a week

-

Frank: hey guys check me out I'm a furry on drugs *WOOOF WOOF BARK BARK BARK WOOF WOOF*

-

Grover: I love plants :3 specifically magic mushrooms but like

-

Leo: I mean I would totally fuck you but like respect man

-

Will: Ugh fuck my life I hate everything *coldplay starts playing* I retract the previous statement I fucking love life

-

Jason: UGH UR ALL SO DUMB but I'm in

-

Nico: if u wanna kys clap ur hands *rapidly claps hands*

-

Piper: *hypnotizes u with my beautiful blue orbs* come over to my house

-

Hazel: respectfully hope you die <3

-

Frank: I'm on acid what's it called when a ton of cats jump on each other a dog pile or a cat pile

-

Reyna: OH THANK GOD- sike I don't believe in that motherfucker hahahha

-

Annabeth: I'm so smart *holds up the one good test I got in school* see the teacher even gave me an 11/10 because I wrote my name in a cool font

-

Leo: UUUUUGGGGGHHHH IM SO HORNY- *mom walks in* oh hi mom how are you

-

Will: we can just... fuck. as friends though no homo.

-

Rachel: IF I DON'T DRAW SOMETHING IN THE NEXT FEW MINUTES I AM GOING TO MAUL SOMEONE

-

Octavian: you all suck and I hate you *silence* no wait come back

-

Someone: haha ur gay

Nico: yeah??? and ur not?? like don't knock it until you try it dick is yummy man

-

Hazel: someone just told me what smearing is and honestly I kinda wanna die *fix you by coldplay starts playing* LMAO WTF

-

Frank: you sad ass emo dog just be happy

-

Percy: I Am OnE wiTh ThE oCeAn AnD HopEfuLLy aLL oF ThE hOt MerPeOpLe In iT

-

Leo: *talking to literally nobody* hey guys!! gonna go get my top surgery! *shows up at claires*

-

Reyna: I only wanna die sometimes and that's normal right

RIGHT

-

Will: *playing guitar* haha look guys I'm fingering A minor *strums violently*

-

Jason: screw men *eyes widen* I should start taking my own advice ngl

-

Will: *listening to a playlist that Nico made him* ugh my emo ass boyfriend and his stupid music I hate him *proceeds to write his name over and over again in diary with hearts around it*

-

Nico: what if I strangle someone with a pair of earbuds

Will: please don't

-

Leo: *in demonic voice* LeAf *eats it*

-

Nico: *pulls gay flag out of pocket* omg it's u

Will: *shuffles around in pocket, finds condom* ... it's u, vanilla flavoured

-

Leo: my name's Leo

Percy: and I like jugs

Nico: I'm mentally ill

Leo: and I'm on drugs :D

-

Jason: is there anything better than pussy

Piper: I thought you where gay

Jason:

Jason: my boyfriend's trans?

-

Will: the temptation to fuck an emo boy rn is killing me

-

Leo: the masculine urge to

Leo:

Leo: I forgor

-

Will: that's good!

Nico: like me in bed

*silence*

-

Leo: smash or pass Ryan Gosling

Nico: SMASH

Will: PASS

Solangelo: *glares at each other*

-

Nico: omg stop with that song

Will: but

Will: but you can take me hot to go :(

-

Annabeth: yeah

Percy: yeah

Annabeth: *in funny voice* yeah

Percy *hentai moan* yEEEAAAaaH

-

Leo: *pointing at Nico* EEEEEEWWWW AN EMOOOOOO EWWW

-

Jason: never ever look up what an eyesha erotica lyric means

Reyna:

Reyna: oh you poor soul *pats back*

-

Nico: I can't breathe

Will: just

Will: breathe air

Nico: I breathe drugs

-

Piper: I'm gonna go play basketball

Leo: haha play with my balls

Jason: already do

Leo: *chokes on air*

well that's all sorry for the torture, thanks to @localcosplaymushroom, @crowwolf8, @justagremlinoncaffeine, and @secret-mewtwo for all of the funny convos that went into this

[sailoryooons]

BOONGI REQUEST THE SEQUEL !!! honeymooning with yoongi and your trip is a little too richly scheduled considering how horny you both are.... leads to fucking in some interesting places 🙈

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: Your tropical honeymoon is planned down to the very minute to get the most out of your trip but it seems that Yoongi has plans of throwing off your itinerary every time his hands touch you. 

❀ Word Count: 4,355

❀ Genre: Established relationship, pwp

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Absolutely self-indulgent and gratuitous smut, literally this is the most porn without plot I have ever done, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex, fucking from behind, semi-public fucking, light degredation, oral (m. and f. receiving), riding Yoongi, fucking from behind, face sitting, throat fucking, a lot of cum and spit and holes, Yoongi and reader fuck in public spaces where they cannot be seen a lot, temperature place, use of ice (please do not ever take ice from a random ice bucket and put it in your partners vagina, this is fiction and it was handy but do not do that lmao), cum swallowing and cum eating when you squint. 

❀ Published: August 9, 2023

❀ A/N: This is sort of a part two? You do not have to read the first request to read this one, they are easily read separately. Thanks for giving me an excuse to just write porn. There literally is nothing here but porn, I don’t even know if they have chemistry, but they fucking. Honestly I had to cut scenes out of this because I also imagined the infinity pool moment and so many other moments because M and I are fucking insane and ruminate on this shit, but at one point it was just… getting longer and I was RUNNING OUT OF WORDS FOR DICK AND COCK AND I HATE THE WORD DICK IN SMUT IF FEELS NOT VERY SEXY. Okay. Here is my ode to the love of my life, M. This somehow made me more insane.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Part One | Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust | Listen Along |

“Come on,” You murmur, lips pressed against Yoongi’s warm forehead. “We have a breakfast reservation at that place we talked about.” 

A deep groan rumbles through Yoongi’s chest. It’s dark in the bedroom of your resort, the lights still off and the sliding glass door window still shuttered. Your newly wed is tangled in white sheets, face pressed against the pillow and swollen with sleep. You bite your bottom lip to hide your smile as he buries his face deeper into the pillow.

It’s tropical warm in the room, your skin still heated from the sun the day before. Yoongi’s cheeks are sun-kissed blossom, bottom lip jutted out as he pouts. You think about the night before, biting that bottom lip hard as you came around him in the shower, cold water pebbling on hot skin. 

Sighing, you climb onto him, knees on either side of his waist as you sit. His chest is flushed and warm as you lean down, dress riding up your thighs as you press your forehead to the side of his head. His hair is messy, an inky halo around him as he lets out a sound again, very close to whining. 

Yoongi smells like coconut shampoo and palm breeze. It makes your stomach flip having him this close to you, flashes of the night before making your already sore thighs twitch. Ignoring your more carnal urges, you nudge him with your nose, huffing. Sliding your hands around to the back of his neck, you thread your fingers through his silky hair, holding him there. 

“Don’t you want breakfast?” you ask, hoping the promise of food will lure him from bed.

Yoongi is fully awake now. “Mhmm.” 

Yoongi frees his hands from the sheets and places them on your thighs, squeezing. His hands are warm and callused, sparking a curl of pleasure in you as he rubs them up and down your legs. It’s an innocent touch, but your thoughts turn devious. 

When Yoongi’s hands trace to the round curve of your ass to grab a handful of flesh, you let out a breathy sound and tighten your grip on his hair. He hisses in appreciation, hips twitching off the bed as you growl, “What are you doing?”

Yoongi turns his head to face you, your foreheads pressed together as he bumps your nose with his. “I don’t need to leave for breakfast,” he murmurs, breath hot against your lips as he talks. His right hand gives you a playful crack on the ass, making you squeak as the sweet sting riles you up, your knees squeezing his waist. “I can eat right here.”

His hands are firm, fingers dimpling your rear end as he pulls you against his stomach and rolls your hips. Your eyes flutter shut at the barely-there friction, Yoongi lifting himself up a little to help you grind against him. 

“Yoongi.” 

The chastisement is nothing more than half of a breath, already feeling arousal curl in your stomach. Your thighs stretch painfully from the night before, a feel-good burn that makes you spread your legs a little wider to feel the pleasurable strain. 

“Come on,” Yoongi grunts. “Girl breakfast.”

“That’s not what that meme means.”

“Who gives a fuck. Sit on my face.”

Ignoring him is impossible. Yoongi’s hands palm your ass, pulling you forward. On unsteady knees, you shuffle up from his waist to his face, lifting the hem of your dress as you go. Yoongi hums appreciatively, slipping a hand between your legs to press his fingers against your clothed pussy. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, the stimulation jolting. “We have an itinerary.”

“Fuck the itinerary. You were going to go to breakfast like this?” he asks, slipping a finger under your underwear, swiping through your dripping folds. “All wet and sticky?” 

You whine, fists tightening in the fabric of your dress. He drags a curled knuckle up and down your pussy, pressing into your clit purposefully as he does, making your hips swivel a little. Yoongi laughs underneath you, mouth hot on your thighs as he leaves sloppy kisses, air cooling his spit on your skin as he goes.

There’s no escaping this. Any desire you had to go to breakfast with a view of the beach is gone as Yoongi nips at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, your legs trembling in anticipation. Yoongi is so good at this, making you bend to his will with just a few words and guiding hands. 

Yoongi’s breath is hot on your center as he peels your underwear to the side. You look down at him, pressing your dress flat to give you the perfect view. His dark eyes are focused on your cunt, his lips bubble gum pink, tongue darting out to wet them. His hair is fanned out around him, some pressed to his forehead. 

Smirking, Yoongi uses one hand to pull you forward, lowering you to his mouth. You hold your breath as he drags his tongue slowly from your leaking entrance to just below your clit before rolling licking back down, ignoring your bundle of nerves entirely. Your toes curl, immediately going white hot at the slow feeling of his tongue dragging through your folds. 

“Oh,” you sigh, eyes shutting as Yoongi hums and repeats the motion, determined to take his time. 

With one hand wrapped in your dress, you lean forward, pressing the other hand against the wall to keep you upright. You hang your head down, heady-heavy, eyes falling shut as you heave shuddering breaths.

Yoongi’s tongue is wicked, laving up and down experimentally as you shake on top of him. He hums appreciatively, pulling you down to his mouth further by your ass. A sharp moan escapes you when he fastens his mouth to you, sucking your clit gently. The suction makes your head spin, your skin over warm and tingling, feeling faint in the dark room.

“Shit,” you pant, listening to him make a mess of you, all wet smacks and happy hums. “Fuck, Yoongi.”

“Mhmm,” he agrees. “Girl breakfast. Or is it wife breakfast?”

You’re too busy rolling your hips gently against Yoongi’s face to shoot something smart back, lost in the rough drag of his tongue against your cunt, the buzz of his mouth when he hums. You feel the way your stomach tightens, the way that pressure in your core builds, the tensing thighs. 

The sweet, saturated sound of Yoongi’s mouth backtracks your whines, your fist pressed against the wall, knuckles popping with the force. Sweat slicks down the back of your neck and your thighs tremble as you fuck his mouth in earnest, hips flexing.

It feels hot in the room, your dress sticking to your skin, panties stretched to the side as Yoongi has his way with you. The strap of your dress falls down, abandoned as you quiver, your shoes and purse long forgotten by the door as you start to come undone.

“Come on,” Yoongi pants against your pussy, tongue prodding your throbbing hole. You squirm at the feeling, wanting more. “Breakfast is supposed to have juice too.”

Your laugh sounds hysteric, closer to a high-pitched cry than anything. Yoongi is vicious, pressing his nose to your clit as his tongue fucks your entrance, drinking you in. You’re dizzy, ears ringing as your orgasm mounts. You start to tense up, teeth clenched, fingers pressed numb against the wall.

Eyes shut, head back, balmy skin, you come hard in his mouth, Yoongi’s tongue pressed against you, not missing a drop. You feel fuzzy drunk, letting Yoongi control your hips. He moves you against his mouth, bobbing his lead as he slurps, dropping staccato mhmms as he goes. 

When you’re falling into his lap, skin sweaty and panting, Yoongi sits up, the lower half of his face shining with your slick. He licks his lips, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. “Thanks for the meal,” he teases. “I want more.”

-

A high-pitched zing whines through the air, drawing your attention to look at the fishing rod on the back of the boat. The reel spins out of control as the line runs wild, handle circling as the fish on the hooked fish runs wild with the line. 

“Yoongi,” you gasp, turning back to him. 

“Fuck the reel,” he growls, fingertips pressing into your hips hard enough throb.

The vinyl cover of the boat seat is slippery with sunscreen, sweat and a little cum. Sun heats your bare back. The burn on your shoulders is nothing to the fiery arousal spooling in your stomach as Yoongi pulls you up by the hips, dragging you along his slick cock.

It’s a calm day on the water, the only motion coming from the way you roll your hips, fucking Yoongi in earnest on the bow of the boat. Blue water glitters around you, reflecting the sun back up toward a cloudless, azure sky.

Salty wind cools the back of your neck as you throw your head back, gasping when Yoongi presses a thumb to your clit, circling slowly. The gentle lapping of the water against the hull is drowned out by the wet slap of your ass on Yoongi’s pelvis, already soaked from your first orgasm.

Your second high blazes through you hotter than the beaming sun. Yoongi growls between gritted teeth, his grip savage as he helps you fuck him. Up down, up down, up down. His chest is flushed and raked with angry red nail marks.

Fishing plans long forgotten, you continue to ride him, the feel of Yoongi’s cock stomach-deep, your walls gripping him tight as you race toward another orgasm. It feels so good, your knees slipping as the boat bobs under you, the up and down motion aiding the way you glide on his dick. 

“Just like that,” Yoongi moans, head tossed back, hair damp and sweaty. He’s worked up, a beat of sweat dripping down his tan neck, jaw flexing as he tries to stop himself from coming. “Use me just like that, baby.” 

And you do, the tip of his dick brushing your g-spot every time you slide down, working your closer and closer until you’re seated in his lap, cock pushed to the deepest parts of you while you come hard around him.

Yoongi waits for you to come down for your high, post-orgasm twitching and panting before he pins you to his chest and holds you while fucking up into you a few more times before he clenches his teeth and comes.

Hot and spent, you both melt into one another, skin sliding against skin as you lay on his chest. He softens inside of you and you become hyper aware of the slide of your mixed juices dripping from your folds and running down your leg. You don’t care, closing your eyes as you inhale deeply.

Eventually, Yoongi lifts his head to peer over your shoulder. You turn around to see that the line has broken on the road and Yoongi laughs, sounding exhausted.

“Fuck it,” he sighs, laying his head back down and tightening his hold on you. “I don’t care.”

-

“My wife is such a little slut,” Yoongi grins, leaning against the sink as you take him further into your mouth. “You love having a mouthful of cock, don’t you?”

Looking up at Yoongi with wide, teary eyes, you hum the affirmative. Dark blush creeps up his neck, his skin visible where the top button of his white shirt is undone. He looks to die for tonight, with his long, dark hair slicked back and just touching his shoulders, a white short-sleeved button up, and dark pants. 

And you? You looked nice earlier, but now your dress is messy with sand from the bathroom floor, mascara running down you face as you swallow around your husbands cock, feeling your throat tighten as you force yourself to the limits. 

You’d at least manage to pay the bill before dragging him into the palm-textured bathroom and dropping to your knees, ignoring the way stray grains of sand from the beachside restaurant burn your knees in favor of taking him into your mouth.

Yoongi slouches against the sink, his shoulders pressed into the mirror as he closes his eyes and angles his head back. You take him further into your mouth, letting spit escape the sides and run down your chin, working what you can’t fit with your hand. Your wedding ring flashes in the low light and drives you mad, loving the way the diamond looks on your hand while it’s wrapped around him. 

You’re ravenous tonight, staring up at him with clenching thighs, watching the way Yoongi unravels. Pulling back, you pop off of him, strings of spit and precum connecting the brown tip of his cock to your lips. You break it, leaning forward to run your tongue along the frenulum of his cock, earning a whine from him.

Grinning, you continue your assault, dragging your tongue down the thick vein on the underside of his cock until you reach his balls, giving a teasing lick that makes his hips cant off the sink.

“Don’t fucking tease me,” he warns. “I fucked you the way you asked for three times today, baby. Don’t I deserve to cum in that pretty little mouth?”

“Yeah?” you ask, pumping him with your hand as you come back up. “Want to come in my mouth?”

Yoongi’s hand shoots to the back of your head, fingers squeezing your skull. It’s not painful, but it’s firm, making you grin up at him, delighted. “Okay then,” you agree, tightening your fist on him a little more, pumping him a little fast. “Fuck my throat.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. Yoongi’s grip on the back of your head stays solid, a comforting feeling as you get a little dizzy from the way he looks down at you, eyes fathomless. Starving. He uses his other hand to prop himself against the sink before he drives his cock into your mouth.

The slide is rough and messy. You flatten your tongue and open up the back of your throat, the sound of you choking wetly around him drowning out the hiss of air between his teeth. You breathe through your nose, your hands gripping his thighs and digging your nails in hard into his flexing thighs.

Absently, you wonder if anyone walking by can hear the gurgle of your mouth, the stilted grunts as he flexes his hips.

Throat burning, eyes stinging and dripping tears, you let Yoongi go wild until he’s coming deep down your throat, a hot and thick mess. He pulls out gently, letting you gasp for air, mouth swollen and sticky as you pant.

Yoongi pulls you up from your knees, holding you tight as you lose your balance. His grip is crushing and he smashes his lips to yours, licking into your mouth to taste the mix of cum and spit, hungry for it.

When he pulls away, his lips are pink and slick and his chest is heaving.

“We’re going to miss that concert I bought tickets for,” you complain, giving him a pout.

“Fuck that concert, we’re going back to the hotel room and I’m going to fuck you for the next three hours, baby.”

-

Admittedly, hiking wasn’t the best event on your itinerary. When you’d planned the adventure originally, you hadn’t accounted for the fact that your legs would be near unusable from days of Yoongi folding you in half to drill into you, or the fact that the jungle is, in fact, hot and humid.

Yoongi walks next to you, his thumbs tucked into the straps of his backpack as he goes. His hair is pulled up into a bun, a few loose strands sticking to his sweaty forehead. He hasn’t complained once since starting the uphill trek through the trees and sifting sand, though you can tell he’s also spent from his inability to stop touching you this entire trip.

But you really want to attempt to get to a single thing on your itinerary for this trip, and the ruins will be out of the question tomorrow when it rains. So, you persist, legs wobbling as you high up the path, shirt sticking to you and scent of sunscreen following you like a coconut cloud.

“You’re sure we’re going the right way?” Yoongi askes, looking up at the gleaming sun filtering between branches. “We haven’t seen a single person.”

“There’s steps, aren’t there?” you ask, gesturing to the path. “There’s ruins that aren’t as much of a climb that everyone prefers. Plus, it’s hot as shit. I wanted to see the good ones though.”

“Anything for you.” 

A few more minutes pass before Yoongi sees you lagging a little. The burn in your thighs is real, remembering acutely the way Yoongi had pressed them to your chest last night as he fucked you slow and deep. The memory makes you shiver, a post-orgasm twitch still haunting you an entire day later.

“Come on,” Yoongi urges. “It’s flat up here, we can step off the path and take a break.”

Yoongi finds some broken trees that have fallen sideways to sit on. You’re grateful, taking deep gulps of water. It immediately cools you down and you close your eyes, rolling your shoulders. Yoongi guzzles down water next to you, his arm pressed up against your.

After a few minutes sitting, you get up and turn to face the fallen tree, bending over at the waist to lean against it in a deep lunge, stretching your hamstrings. It’s a soothing sort of pain, the extension of muscle a relief. 

Yoongi looks at maps on his phone behind you, waiting as you you switch legs and arch your spine, feeling a few joints pop in release. It feels good and you sigh, letting the tension bleed out of you.

Hands find your ass, gentle and curious. You look over your shoulder to find Yoongi looking at you with his brows raised and head tilted. A question. You know he’ll back off immediately if you shoo him away. Instead, You burst into laughter and shake your head, “Seriously?”

“What?” 

You stare at him. He looks delicious, sweat dripping down his Adam’s apple, hair pulled back. He’s dressed simply and yet, looking at him looking at you, wanting you the way that he does makes you vibrate. It doesn’t matter how many times you have him, you always want him more. And again.

You married Yoongi for a myriad of reasons. Because he is gentle and kind, because you like the way he takes his coffee and reads the paper in the morning, because you like that he uses mint shampoo, because you like that he has to line his shoes up perfectly next to the door. 

Everything about him enchants you, and you’re over the moon to have someone who doesn’t shame you for your carnal desires, that you have someone who matches the energy, who can take it and give it to you anywhere you want. 

Yoongi is the perfect balance, always knowing when to initiate, always knowing when it's a good time.

“I know that look,” he smiles. “Now you’re thinking about it.”

“Can you be quick? I don’t want someone to stumble on us.”

“Fuck yeah I can,” he promises, dropping his backpack and popping the zipper on his pants. You let out a pathetic sound at the sight, earning a smug look from Yoongi. 

Yoongi peels your legs and underwear down to your knees, just enough to get access to you but also safe enough to pull them up quickly if you need. His clothed chest presses against your back as he leans forward, wrapping his arms around your middle in what seems like an innocent hug.

You gasp as the tip of his cock breaches your entrance, the stretch a little painful with no prep. It doesn’t matter, though. He pushes in slowly, letting you get used to it until he’s pressed in to the hilt, your pussy fluttering around him. 

“I love you,” Yoongi whispers, pressing butterfly soft kisses to your cheek and temple. He starts thrusting shallowly, stealing your breath away. “You are my perfect, beautiful, wonderful wife.”

“Fuuuck,” you whisper. Yoongi isn’t fucking around, making his thrust precision perfect, pressing that soft spot inside of you. Your thighs are pressed together, making the fit even tighter, feeling him even more. “You’re just saying that cause I’m letting you fuck me against a tree.”

“Untrue, I say this all the time.”

That’s fair. Yoongi does tell you that he loves you. More often now than he used to, more verbal than his little utterances of love by readying your coffee long before you were awake in the morning or picking up the things you were missing from your pantry on the way home. 

“You’re right,” you pant, head lolling to the side as his mouth seeks the heat of your throat. “I love you too”

The tree bark bites into your hand as you take him fully. With the way your legs are pressed together and the angle that you’re standing, it feels like Yoongi is punching to the very core of you, making the world spin. You think you might collapse over the tree if he weren’t holding you up. 

“You’re just saying that cause I’m fucking you against a tree.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the fact that Yoongi picks up the pace, fucking you hard and with purpose. His hand slips between your legs, finding your clit and pinching it lightly, making you squeal and twitch. He laughs, choosing to circle it instead, working you faster toward an orgasm as he pounds into you, punching the breath from your lungs. 

Sex with him is different every time. You don’t know how you manage to never get tired of it, but it never feels the same. Not with him. Every time feels like you’re discovering something new, 

When you do come, you suddenly feel like you can run the rest of the way up to the ruins, energized on the endorphins alone. 

“I’ve heard of post nut clarity,” Yoongi jokes, tucking his cock back into his pants. “But never post nut energy.”

“It’s like a second wind.”

“Dickened wind.” 

You glare at him, tossing his backpack to him. “Stick to writing songs, not jokes.”

-

“You’re so fucking swollen,” Yoongi groans, thumbs peeling apart your folds. “Cute.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your face pressed down into the pillows of the daybed, ass up in the air with Yoongi behind you. The sound of the pool and anyone beyond the closed curtains of the banana are muted by the tropical music of the DJ. All the better to drown out the sound of your husband spitting onto your exposed heat. 

“Cause you’ve been fucking me insane all week,” you protest, body vibrating. Yoongi hums thoughtfully but doesn’t say anything, letting his spin trail slowly down your slit. You’re already wet from the way his greedy mouth sucked at your chest. “Baby, please. I want your mouth.”

“Yeah? You all hot and bothered?”

“Yes.”

“Let me cool you off.” 

Yoongi’s hands leave your ass for a moment. You’re too overheated from days in the sun and the rising tropical temperature to look at what he’s doing. You’re in a slow daze, a little buzzed from sweet drinks and Yoongi’s mouth, from sloppy kisses that taste like strawberry and Yoongi’s cute little sunburn on his ass from falling asleep after letting you drive him insane with your mouth on the private balcony the day before. 

Now, you hear the clicking of something moving around the ice bucket. Your brows furrow and you’re about to turn your head to look at what Yoongi is doing when you feel ice cold water slow drip onto your ass. 

“Shit,” you hiss, grabbing the edge of the daybed and arching your spin. The water is a cool burn, a relief that drives you mad as he makes a pleased sound. “Ohhh fuck, again.”

“More?”

“Fuck yeah.”

There’s the sound of more ice and Yoongi is dripping the cold water on your ass again, making your lower spine tingle and toes curl. The cold drips move closer to your cunt until he’s directly over your clenching hole. The shock of cold against hot sends you into a frenzy. You wiggle your ass back and forth, asking for more, eager for it. 

Yoongi has never been one to deny you. This time, you feel his lips around an ice cube, dragging his cold kiss over the swells of your ass, letting the ice melt on his tongue before lapping at your pussy, tongue cold against your dripping heat. 

It drives you mad. Your fingers ache with the way you clutch the pillows, pressing your face hard into the daybed as Yoongi does this a few times, bringing his cold lips to mouth hungrily at you until it’s all he’s focused on, forgetting the ice in favor of sucking greedily at your clit. 

Your spine feels like it might crack, bowed dangerously as you press back into his face. He moans at your eagerness, tongue twisting between your folds as eats you out in earnest. If it weren’t for the privacy curtains and the DJ booth, you’d never get away with this. Yoongi is not quiet, smacking his lips like a glutton. 

Air escapes you. You squeeze your eyes shut as an orgasm bears down on you. Your face is pressed so far in the cushions that you don’t think you can breathe, your lungs contracting and your chest squeezing as you come on his tongue without warning, a silent scream raging through you.

Stars burst behind your eyes. Yoongi takes it in stride, licking you long and slow as you remain rigid for the duration of your high. When it finally begins to subside, you fall to the side, sprawling boneless and feeling drunk.

“Holy shit,” you croak, voice gone. “You were right. Fuck the itinerary. This is so much better.”

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

So this is another "my vagina's/vulva's orgasm behaviour is confusing to me" question, but I did not find this explicitly in the faqs. So I have a vagina that js probably pretty standard. I get an orgasm pretty easily when I use a vibrator/massager or similar sex toy. I cannot, however, get myself off using my hands. Neither can my partner. We do fingering, oral or penetrative sex, all of which I enjoy a lot, even though I never (literally never) orgasm if no toy is involved. My partner and I are a bit curious as to why getting an orgasm with a toy is so easy for me, but so far, literally no other technique we tried that doesn't involve a vibrator has worked. I'm always having fun when we're having sex, I don't feel pressured about getting off, and my partner is very attentive and has tried many different things during sex. So my question is: Can you sort of "numb" your clitoris if you use toys too often? I've started masturbating pretty early, but I always used mechanical helpers, for example an electrical toothbrush. And I've been entertaining this weird theory that this has maybe led my nerves to only react to quite strong and strictly repetitive stimulation. But maybe this is ridiculous? Do you know anything about this? Coming due to my partner fingering me or going down on me or maybe even during penetrative sex would be something I'd like very much (and also being able to masturbate without toys would be a practical skill to have) so I'm wondering why this is not working so well. I love your blog btw and I've learned so much reading through your asks! Thank you for taking the time to answer so many questions!

hi anon,

you've actually pretty much nailed it! while you can't numb your clitoris, you can teach your body to respond only to particular types of stimuli - some people find themselves only able to get off in certain positions, for instance, or, as in your case, with a very specific intensity and repetition. vibrators are great for a lot of people who have difficulty with orgasm strictly because they deliver such powerful, consistent stimulation! and that's awesome, but it can also make it difficult for the comparatively weak and unpredictable human body to compare lmao.

I'm super glad that you and your partner are already in a place where you feel secure in the way sex works for you, rather than taking the need for a vibrator as a kind of shortcoming (... no pun intended). I think that puts you in a really good place to start experimenting and trying new things together and have fun doing it!

if you want to learn how to get off minus a vibe, there's really on foolproof solution: get that vibrator out of there. not for solo or partnered sex; from now on it's body parts only. that may mean no orgasm for a while, but it sounds like you already have a really good attitude about that, so I hope that won't be too much of a bummer during the adjustment period!

it may take a while, but what I'm hoping for it giving your body a nice long break deprived of stimulation that intense to help it grow more sensitive to touch from a hand, mouth, or other body parts. don't put too much pressure on yourself to be orgasmic right away; just try out different things, pursue new sensations, and try to be playful and pressure-free. even if it doesn't result in orgasm, I hope it can be a fulfilling and fun experience that lets you learn new things about how you like to be touched and experience sensation.

also, pro tip: if you go long enough without using a vibe there's a very good chance you will, in scientific terms, nut yourself senseless pretty immediately when you reintroduce it, so that's something to look forward to.

[tenpintsofsundrop]

Stop? (Baby, Don't Stop)

Sub!Gar Logan x Dom!Fem!Reader Smut Blurb

Concept: Gar can't say no to you. But he can't bring himself to see that as a problem.

Word Count: 1,800

Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

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List of detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: spoilers for Titans S1, S2, and S3 if you haven’t seen the show before and want to watch it unspoiled, this is set during S3 when the Titans are staying at Wayne Manor, passing mentions of Gar’s trauma (him being killed during Trigon, him being kidnapped by Cadmus, his parents’ death), dom/sub dynamics - Gar is more submissive and the reader is more dominant, the reader calls Gar ‘baby boy’, the reader and Gar have an implied pre-established relationship, Gar (kind of) goes into subspace but it’s not explicitly mentioned or described as such, the reader has a vagina, penis in vagina sex, the reader rides Gar, overstimulation - the reader rides Gar through his orgasm and overstimulates him, possibly dubcon - the reader oversimulates Gar when he is not expecting it and he’s in a murky headspace but he does enjoy it and it’s stated in the narrative that he does not want it to stop (hence, the title), finger sucking (Gar sucks on the reader’s finger), unprotected sex, sloppy sex, hopefully that is everything. Just know that this is in line with my usual brand of filth.

A/N: One of my favourite smut tropes (kinks?) is riding a guy through his orgasm and overstimulating him - vastly underutilized. And I randomly got thinking about this + Gar this morning, so have this. I missed my green haired boyfriend, so there will definitely be more smut with him coming soon (I am thinking some stuff with virgin!Gar maybe? let me know what you think of that idea lmao)

...

Gar was someone who had experienced a lot of hardship in his life. 

His parents dying when he was still so young, him suddenly having a set of metahuman powers that he wasn’t prepared for - powers that he was kind of terrified of and definitely didn’t know how to use responsibly. Him literally being murdered by his dearest friends while they were under mind control, and then being brought back again and having to heal from the mental and physical injuries. The severe medical torture and resulting mental shitshow that Cadmus had put him through. 

It was a lot to have to push down during everyday life, having to pretend he was okay - having to put up a front for everyone else when they simply assumed that he was. 

But there were a lot of times when he could forget about all that. Times when he wasn’t actively suppressing his trauma because you made things okay - because you distracted him in the absolute best ways. Times when he thought that literally everything in life was just perfect. And most of those times were when you were on top of him like this. 

He would consider this nothing short of literal heaven. 

The feeling of your sweet, wet cunt clenching down on him as he laid flat on his back, splayed out on one of the many luxurious beds of Wayne Manor. 

(“You need to relax.” You had told him, taking him by the hand and dragging him into the random bedroom. “You’re worrying way too much about everyone else right now. Someone needs to take care of you.”) 

And while he had not at all put up any physical resistance against you, pliant under your touch as usual, that conversation had originally started out as him protesting against your thesis. He had told you that: no, he was worrying just the right amount about everyone else, that they needed him. But his protests had quickly died down when you shoved him back onto the bed and drowned out his voice with your tongue. 

Gar always had a very hard time saying no to you. 

He wasn’t sure if it was selfishly motivated. From the outside looking in, others probably say that it was. Considering that he was a guy, and you were just as horny as him - he never felt the need to say no to you. Especially considering the fact that he had never felt a greater sensation than that of your wet pussy surrounding his cock. 

And usually with the promise of that dangling over his head, you had gotten him to do a great number of compromising things, both minuscule and potentially life changing. Or perhaps it was because you were the sweetest little vixen that had captured his heart. And any time you batted your eyes and asked him to do something in that sweet voice, you might as well have been casting a spell on him. 

And he knew that it wasn’t just a weak spot he had for you. 

You had worked that magic on Conner and Jason before. Gar was actively working under the firm belief that if you simply approached Jason and asked him to stop killing people nicely please, then he would take off the Red Hood mask and surrender himself politely, no questions asked. 

But all of that was the farthest thing from his mind as you bounced on his cock. 

With your hands sitting on his shoulders, your nails digging into his bare skin. His shirt had been lost at some point while his pants were shucked off around his ankles and caught up against his shoes. But he could barely even focus on his lack of nakedness or your own because he was obsessively caught in the feeling of your cunt warmly hugging around his hard cock. 

Though he was slightly wishing that your shirt was off, but far too pussy drunk to simply reach out and lift it off so he could enjoy the sway of your tits in his face without obstruction. 

You were a perfect wet vice around him, leaking wetness down over his heavy balls and smearing it up over his stomach as you bounced. And all Gar could really do was take a gentle hold on your hips and appreciate the ride. His face was absolutely knit with pleasure in a way that made you giggle with delight, watching his almost caveman-like expression of tight brows and a heavy set jaw as he stared at the place where you were joined with utterly intense concentration. 

You had never seen a prettier man in all your days - those big brown eyes entirely rapt with pleasure, soft lips and a glisten of sweat across his skin that made you even more intent on ruining him. 

“You gonna cum for me, baby boy?” Your voice laced around the words, breathy yet so commanding, so strong, holding the power over him as you always did. 

It was enough to send a rumble through Gar’s chest, a sharp echo of pleasure from your words. 

That was the sacred question. 

Of course, Gar never wanted it to end. Ultimately, he just wanted to stay like this forever - buried deep in your sweet cunt, feeling that intense warmth hugging him, having your perfect scent surrounding him and having every worry in the world pushed out of his brain. 

But he did feel all the telltale signs - that almost painful tingle in his balls and that deep twisting in his gut that told him it was going to he over too soon. He was going to cum for you, just like he always did. 

All he could gather in response was a choked off grunt. But you knew his language well enough by now - you knew him when he was swimming this deep in pleasure, and you certainly didn’t need words. You knew it just by the expression on his face, the growing look of tight-knit desperation, the gentle whimpers that began to escape his lips. 

Something so enticing that it caused you to run a thumb along his bottom lip, finding the curve of his mouth to be all too pretty when he let out those sweet little sounds. Naturally, he drew the digit inside and began sucking on it, enjoying the tang of your natural skin oils, something that only pushed him closer to the edge. 

Feeling that that sharp whine punched out of his chest, vibrating around your finger only caused you to double down. You bucked your hips harder, riding him with an almost vengeful kick, as though you were trying to push his entire body down through the bed. It was something that caused a loud, pornographic wet smacking to echo through the room - a blatant signal to anyone walking by that the two of you were going at it like rabbits. 

If Gar had any sense left between his ears, he would have been thankful for it being such a large house. He would have been thankful for some sense of privacy. 

Instead, he was totally brainless as the feeling of orgasm overtook his body. His mouth went wide around your thumb as he released a litany of almost pathetic moans and whimpers and he arched back into the bed, a pure exorcism of pleasure overtaking him. He mindlessly endowed his animal strength onto you - digging his fingers into your hips and forcing you down onto his cock for a few moments, forcing you to still on top of him as he shot his load of hot cum inside of you. 

This caused a few hot moans from your lips, nothing but pure enjoyment as you watched the radical pleasure rock him. 

It was such an intense orgasm that it made his muscles seize and jump, it easily made his balls ache. By the time his cock had spurted those last bits of cum into you, he thought that his dick would willfully go limp and fall out of you, being just as tired as he was as he collapsed back onto the bed. But he was still semi-hard and throbbing inside your pussy, tingling with overstimulation as you unconsciously clenched around him. 

You leaned down to his panting lips, sealing him in a hot kiss. 

Gar let out a strangled shriek when you began bouncing your hips again. 

A shockwave of hot pin needles flew up his body from the point where you were joined, erratic hot overstimulation overtaking him. His cock forcefully filled with blood again as you clenched down on him harder. Clearly, you were gaining some thrill out of feeling the extra slickness of his cum sliding between the two of you, out of hearing just how wet your thrusts were now. 

Gar let out another sharp whine and moved his very limp hands back to your hips. In his mind, it was an attempt to shove you off him, to take a fucking breath. But his fingers only dug into your flesh harder and pulled you down onto his cock with force when he felt a particular hot streak of pleasure flare up through his gut. It was almost against his will - but your pussy was just too fucking good. 

“Too much.” He moaned out weakly, a hot puff against your lips, the first thing he had said in an hour of more. “‘s too much.” 

You found the way he slurred the words to be entirely adorable - as though he was quite literally drunk on your pussy. The wide gape of his mouth, trying to draw in breath as you continued to punch it out of him, and the tears pricking the edges of his eyes only made it more beautiful. 

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked, slightly breathless yourself. 

You continued to slam your hips down on his cock, over and over again planting yourself in that filthy puddle of your mixed cum. 

It was a traitorous question. 

It was too much of a strain on his body, but it was everything he wanted. He was breathless and brainless and nothing else in the world existed except for your wet cunt squeezing his aching cock, your natural smell filling the world around him, the hot press of your tits against his chest. 

The word ‘stop’ didn’t seem to be in his vocabulary. 

He let out a strained choking sound, and found himself unconsciously bucking up into you - he found himself enjoying the painful sting that ran through him. Tears leaked from his eyes, and when you reached up to wipe them away, you gave him one last thoughtful sentiment. 

“Tell me to stop and I will.” You whispered quietly against his cheek. 

But it seemed that you already knew what his answer would be. 

Gar put a hand on your back, cradling you close, shoving his face in your neck and breathing in that perfect aroma of your sweat. 

Stop? 

You ground your hips down into him, creating nothing but a filthy wet ache. He choked on a moan and found himself holding you still once again so he could fuck up into you harder. 

“Please.” He moaned weakly against your skin. “Please, don’t stop.”

[delugguk]

Is this okay? | pt.2

pair: jungkook x reader.

genre: smut, drabble series? strong ass pinning, idiots to lovers? sexual tension.

word count: 860.

warnings: eating out, unprotected sex (be safe🤨)

part one.

A/N: to be honest I don’t even know what is this. “Is this okay” is definitely going to turn into something I fear.. but let’s take this a little episodes of OC getting way in too deep with her feeling about jungkook. if she doesn’t know what the fuck this mean, neither do I, the one that’s writing this LMAO. Let’s just see where this two couple lead us to, okay? I don’t even know what’s the plot or if we ever get a solid one but either way I’m excited!! but nothing more to say, enjoy^^

he gently open your legs as soon as you’re already leaking for him. unconsciously arching your back, he bites his lips in necessity. caressing up and down your inner thighs, you make an intense pleading eye contact with him and oh.. he wants you so bad. “you’re mine.” a deep voice resonating into your ears as soon as he speak, slowly bending down to give a very long and slow lick into your clit.

such a tease, you thought.

he’s so sensual. you swore he wasn’t real.

“fuck.” it’s all you say. the way he moved his tongue was so splendid. you didn’t know if he was that good or if it was because you were just too invested (in not only him eating you out), but, him.

ah, you’re doomed.

as soon as he went down on you, you knew this was going to happen. first time he was going down on you, first time you were falling in love like this.

who looks so perfect doing it? (and again), you didn’t know if it was because of his tattoos or because of his black shirt. either way, he looked hot as fuck doing it. and the little, shiny silver chain tangling around his thick and very tentative neck, wasn’t helping you at all. neither.

“just like that..” it’s all you blurb out.

“hm?” he answers. but it’s more of a ‘yeah?’ kinda respond.

he sound so needy..

“hmm..” he groans and you can’t help but feel the vibrations enter your vagina as soon as he started giving big, open mouthed kisses into your very heated and leaking private parts.

you can’t help but thrust softly into his mouth, his hands grasping into your sides. you believe he could leave marks on it. can already feel it, but you liked it that way. — he wasn’t even your boyfriend to begin with, but he fucked you oh, so heavenly. you knew nobody could ever be close to do you like he does.. ever. he surely was a masterpiece of a experience. but hm.. you mentally sigh.

jungkook.

“mhm?” he asks as soon as he introduces two fingers in it, flickering your clit.

“agh- yeahh.” you moan, trying to close your legs oh how I wish he could just fuck you with your legs up and closed for him. you suddenly wanted his dick so badly.

“mmmm” moaning, sighing very needy, your hips can help but move in circular motions while he goes kinda hard on you. so good. “jungkook,”

“mm?” he’s so concentrated, sounding so desperate too.

“want your dick.”

he gives you one last kiss with a pop. you flinch for how good it felt. “yeah?” eyes so dark. hair so in between them too. tattoos so on display and his chain still doing things to you, not to mention him smelling so good too.

“yeah.” you say as you, yourself, pull your legs up to pretend you’ll put it at the side of his left shoulder. “like this.” basically pleading with your eyes.

he smirks. “hm.” it’s all he says.

when he’s positioning himself on bed, you notice his very erect bulge. mm. how much wanted it. you’ll do anything for that dick. (but not quite literally. you just were way too down for him).

who knew you could say anything during a heat of the moment, right? .. haha. crazy.

“eunmg, put it inn” you plead.

“desperate much, my love?” he grins while stoking his very hard dick.

“yeahh” you aren’t even ashamed. this is what you are.

“love how honest you are.” giving you a devilish smile.

you wanted to cum right there.

grabbing your legs he squeezed them together, putting both of them on the side of his left shoulder and as soon as he entered he pushed your entire body back on him to introduce his dick as he knows best. very deeply.

“mm!” you moan. walls already squeezing him, you were trying to not cum but he felt so good.

“if you keep doing this to me I’ll cum, sweetheart. please calm down.” he says as he pats the side of your hips.

“eung.” you just nod like a very good girl. fuck, he loved that.

starting moving his hips, thrusting into you felt incredibly rich. your walls were squeezing him so right and your very sticky liquid were all over the place. coating his dick so well. he was fucking you so well you started to feel butterflies into your stomach and the pleasure you were having were sky rocketing the stupid heated room. couldn’t do this anymore, you finally cummed. he later chased his high too.

but instead of stopping he continue to stroke his dick into you. you weren’t complaining though, because you two really just were that horny.. the night continued like that during a couple of hours and even during a couple of days.. you were doomed. doomed, ruined.

jungkook, jungkook.. just what have you done to me?

[hyunsvngs]

This is literally a whole essay y'all, I'm not sorry xD

My last Channie ask was such a simp daddy Channie ask but what about good boy Channie who just want his lovers strap-on??

He's been fidgeting all day with your strap-on on his mind. He knew you had it tucked away in your closet somewhere cuz you're pan and your previous partner (ended on good terms and are friends still) also had a vagina but who would throw away a perfectly good strap after that?

Exactly

No one would

You were hanging out with your ex and Channie in the kitchen when you asked him to go find your old baby-photo album buried in your closet so you can show your ex some funny baby pics you had. So he went to your shared room and went to the closet. he thought it was in that little black box buried under everything else.

He pulls it out of the closet and his pupils blow up the size of softballs once he sees what's inside. He got this curiosity from all the stories you'd tell him of how fun it was to use the strap with your ex but he'd just shake off the curiosity as something that would just pass because he'd never used one so of course he'd be curious.

Then he quickly hides it away again in your closet perfectly back where he found it so you wouldn't bat an eye. He quickly spots the photo album sitting up top on the shelf, covered in a layer of dust, and he runs it out to you and quickly retreats to the living room to get away from you two.

The day passes by quickly for you but it drug on for years for him.

You two are just cuddling on the couch watching Salt Burn (i haven't watched it yet LMAO whoops) and he abruptly sits up at one of the scenes. You pay no mind to it because you figured he was just getting a boner and was embarrassed for some reason (and let's be real, you're probably soaked by now too) but the movie wasn't exactly the reason why he got a boner.

He keeps subtly looking over at you occasionally, eyes darting everywhere if you catch him (which you can always see him in your peripheral, he just doesn't realize that) so you pause the movie and ask him "baby, what's going on? Are you okay? You wanna stop watching the movie and just get some sleep?" But of course he says he's fine.

15 minutes later and he's rocking back and forth trying to distract himself but he didn't realize it was also distracting you.

"Okay clearly you're not fine, tell me what's going on."

"No, it's nothing. The movie is almost over. Let's ju-"

"Chris."

And my god he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes before dropping his head and saying "I.. I found your strap today.. looking through our closet.. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have looked in the box"

And you just start laughing at him. He's just so cute and embarrassed and he's just your little baby : ( your Channie : (

"Baby it's fine. But why are you so worried about it? You knew I had it, I don't mind."

"It's not that. I know you won't care if I seen it.. I was just thinking.." and he looks up at you, pupil blown out and slightly glossed over "... What if *we* used it..?"

"Baby, I can just use you anyways, you're so much better than some piece of rubber"

He looks down again with his ears turning bright red-

"I didn't mean use it on you.."

Oh.... OHHHH..... oh what a dirty boy.

A crazy smile is spread across your face from one ear to the other and you pick his head up and hold it in your hands

"Of course we can! Why don't you go pick out your favorite dildo of mine while I go grab the strap?" You say as you give him a little kiss on his pouty lips.

In a matter of seconds, his head shoots up and out of your hands and he's completely surprised at your response

"Wait.. what??? You.. you'd wanna do that?? Isn't that a little.. I don't know.. weird??" He says scratching the back of his head

You laugh at him again while shaking your head.

"Baby, I've wanted to peg your pretty ass from day one. Remember how you fucked me on my bed with my standing mirror at the end of the bed? Well I was watching your ass the whole time. Who said I don't wanna turn you into a subby mess while you're desperately fucking yourself on my cock"

And the way his cock twitches in his pants while his eyes roll back in his head 🥴

"Now are you gonna go pick out my cock to use on you or are we gonna finish the movie"

and he RUNS to the room leaving you giggling on the couch.

GOOOOOOOOOOOOD I'm a mess at work over this 🥴

SUBBY CHANNIE IS SOOOO REAL TO ME IM SERIOUS

i have nothing to add HES JUST DELICJOUS

[silentsockfeet]

more favorite c2 moments, from e054 to e071

beau having another training sesh with dairon and it’s very serious and intense afterwards she says “wait i want to give you something” and laura goes “my vagina” and everyone just breaks lmao (e054)

nott prepping an explosive arrow to shoot at an enemy when they get close to someone and shooting it as the enemy is hovering over an unconscious caduceus and sam saying ‘i shoot an explosive arrow………. Oh No’ as he realizes what he just did. and you can see his face completely morph into shock and fear as he says it (e055)

jester saying ‘traveler tell the wild mother that caduceus needs help’ as she revives caduceus and the wildmother looking on as he comes back to life (e055)

ashley completely obliterating sam in her speech as liam's running mate for president of dnd beyond god how i miss her when she's not there (e058)

everyone acting out what they're doing as they ride around on their mounts and jester and fjord are having this really sweet and cute conversation while taliesin and ashley are miming their actions and it looks like yasha is braiding caduceus's hair as she sits behind him (e059)

laura craving donuts mid session so travis orders some and then later laura asking "did you order donuts bubba" and travis responding "of course i did, what kind of a husband do you think i am? i ordered like 60, one for every dice in that fuckin bag" and laura goes "you really think there's only 60 dice in this bag?" lmaooo (e060)

then later laura wants some of travis's coffee and travis says no so laura makes a little sad face and then a couple minutes later travis hands his coffee to marisha and says "pass this over to the little grumpy tiefling" i love their interactions so much (e060)

marisha patting liam on the shoulder and then he winces in pain i think bc he just had shoulder surgery? and marisha instantly backs off and like winces with him out of guilt and then goes "where's that dollar?" like they clearly had a bet going on if she could avoid hurting liam that night lmao. and then travis tugs marisha into his side to keep her away from liam it was so cute (e061)

fjord having another dream of uk'atoa and the god is clearly mad at him and says "punish." and then fjord wakes up and realizes he lost his powers what a SICK moment (e061)

the gang getting a new house and jester sneaking into yasha’s room and painting a field of wildflowers on her wall and then yasha/ashley almost crying at it and then yasha tucks her bed against the wall and sleeps looking at the wildflowers (e062)

FUN HOME REFERENCE !!!!! matt describing a goblin with a ring of keys and liam singing 🎶 and her ring of keys 🎶 and the others giggling along made me so emo (e063)

fjord giving jester a kiss on the cheek before running off to fight an enemy and laura sitting there like :o for like a whole minute after as if that’s not her literal husband flirting with her they’re so cute (e064)

the wildmother interrupting fjord’s nightmare of uk’otoa to give him a moment of respite (e065)

jester stealing nott’s flask and it becomes this whole debacle of nott interrogating like every member of the party to figure out where it went and at one point she gets super intense with yasha and goes through her pockets and yasha just getting fed up with her and going “nott i didn’t steal your fucking flask >:(“ in like the most scary intense way possible (e066)

laura being home sick so travis pilots jester but he fucks up some spells so laura CALLS HIM and starts telling him what spells to cast and then travis ends the call with the sweetest little “i love you goodbye” lmaoo (e068)

the gang getting a package from calianna who gifted beau a bow and beau awkwardly putting it on very clearly uncomfortable and caduceus egging her on like a dick hahaha i love when caduceus fucks with people (e071)

and now i’m officially at the halfway point!! episode 72 :)

[gu6chan]

not to be horny about my own characters but oh my GOD im looking at violetta's design again and looking at alices design again and eirwenwy's and even looking at barnabas' design again and there's something about how taking away conventional "sexy" characteristics where you'd expect them make them even more sexy in a bizarre, alien way like you think about how alice is like "ooooh she's so wild and crazy and looks so cool covered in blood and doing war crimes ahahaha #edgy" except i want it to HIT and NOT be a decoration 😤😤😤 like i wanna show that the weight of the life she's taken isn't just "sexy feral lady covered in blood 🤩 (that we are forgetting belonged to people)" but is literally falling-apart levels of rotting and is being actively eaten alive by and giving birth to countless maggots and tapeworms and hundreds of other parasites that fall out from under her dress wherever she walks, the manifestation of the weight of those lives and how revolting she really is is made more apparent than using nameless blood as a decoration i think

but also i just really love corpses lol

And violetta!!!! not much here she's just,,, alien lmao she doesn't have an ass, her "vagina" is a poked-in barbie doll hole that's been COMPLETELY misplaced on account of her creator being a 6 year old girl having fun, instead of breasts she has two lumps of who-knows-what covered by stretched-over flesh coloured cloth, and instead of a waist she just has a rib cage and a bare spine connecting her top half to her lower. and that is so fucking cool like i DO wanna rip that to shreds!!!!! Snap!!!!!!!!

Eirwenwy is just a whole LIST of abominations given dragons and humans getting together and fornicating (even theoretically, as in this case!!!) is a kind of abomination in itself in the "This was never supposed to happen" vein, the poor thing is like an inbred pug barely able to even breathe like,,, her reproductive/waste organs are stuck to the back of a tail that goes as far up to where they should be, she had two "withered hands" growing out the sides of her waist which were supposed to be wings, her thighs are stilted and her legs/claws are really just heavily deformed feet that prevent her from being able to kneel down like a human and instead require her to go on all fours if (god forbid) she drops something and needs to lean down to get it, and instead of breathing fire, she can only hurl out particularly acidic vomit. she is just straight up not having a good time

And speaking of vomit, Barnabas!!!! He's MUCH less extreme than anyone else bit still worthy of a mention, he's really the image of "poor fragile unfortunate sickly delicate Pure, Holy Boy with skin like ivory and a heart of gold" except instead of sickly as in staggers and coughs a bit his entire ribcage is visible if you take off his shirt and sometimes he just Vomits Everywhere (But particularly on himself, given the whole wheelchair deal) he is not the pitiable sickly/suffering saint he is the image of purity and perfection and he is DYING!!!!!!!

His skin is still like ivory and his heart is still of gold, though 😁👍 he's just very bony. and smells a little like herbs and maybe stomach acid kinda sorta depending on when you catch him 👉👈

Alice and Barnabas share the throwing up randomly trait more than i realised though, lmao Eirwenwy CAN but doesn't involuntarily (alice wins though because she not only throws up stomach acid, but bugs and parasites and what's left of her organs and even barnabas himself too!!!! Lmao)

[liamgallaghermpreg]

alright but as its wincest wednesday how does sam eat dean(na)'s pussy? does (s)he ever sit on his face? is sam messy and greedy and gung ho with it or does he have some kind of measured pussy eating techniques/routines his weird ass probably practised on a fleshlight or something idk anyway tell us all about it ❤️ (I also can't believe I'm not going anon for this lmao)

SAM eats dean(na)'s pussy with APLOMB. sam is a cunnilingus enjoyer. i just know it. i can feel it in my heart and my hole. he had that whole sex dream about bela literally licking his lips pleaseeeee and also we know he fucks like an animal prayer hands emoji

plus i feel like he really enjoys getting his partner off. like.....he likes knowing he's done something good. idk about practicing on a fleshlight (although i love that idea) but probably like when he was with jess he wasn't shy about asking for pointers till he perfected the technique. first time he got below a girl's pants he went home and asked jeeves how to find the clitoris. my man is utilizing the whole vagina. fingers, tongue, playing with labia..........and i BET he gets off to the more like. i don't wanna say gross bc eating box is in no way gross, but the more like? human parts of sex? like he loves the taste of sweat and wetness and he isn't afraid to get pubes in his mouth or whatever

plus you know dean(na) is not afraid to tell sam what s/he likes and he is nodding and writing down notes in his head. he's such a studious guy and that 100% applies to sex

sam winchester pussy eating kING

[sundrop-writes]

Stop? (Baby, Don't Stop)

Sub!Gar Logan x Dom!Fem!Reader

Summary:

Gar can’t say no to you. But he can’t bring himself to see that as a problem. (aka - Gar is very stressed out about everyone else's problems, so you force him to de-stress in the best way.)

Sub!Gar Logan x Dom!Fem!Reader. Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during Season 3.

Word Count: 1,800

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: spoilers for Titans S1, S2, and S3 if you haven’t seen the show before and want to watch it unspoiled, this is set during S3 when the Titans are staying at Wayne Manor, passing mentions of Gar’s trauma (him being killed during Trigon, him being kidnapped by Cadmus, his parents’ death), dom/sub dynamics - Gar is more submissive and the reader is more dominant, the reader calls Gar ‘baby boy’, the reader and Gar have an implied pre-established relationship, Gar (kind of) goes into subspace but it’s not explicitly mentioned or described as such, the reader has a vagina, penis in vagina sex, the reader rides Gar, overstimulation - the reader rides Gar through his orgasm and overstimulates him, possibly dubcon - the reader oversimulates Gar when he is not expecting it and he’s in a murky headspace but he does enjoy it and it’s stated in the narrative that he does not want it to stop (hence, the title), finger sucking (Gar sucks on the reader’s finger), unprotected sex, sloppy sex, hopefully that is everything. Just know that this is in line with my usual brand of filth.

A/N: This is one of my favourite Gar smuts that I have written, so I had to re-post it first. One of my favourite smut tropes (kinks?) is riding a guy through his orgasm and overstimulating him - vastly underutilized. And I randomly got thinking about this + Gar this morning, so have this. I missed my green haired boyfriend, so there will definitely be more smut with him coming soon (I am thinking some stuff with virgin!Gar maybe? let me know what you think of that idea lmao).

....

Gar was someone who had experienced a lot of hardship in his life. 

His parents dying when he was still so young, him suddenly having a set of metahuman powers that he wasn’t prepared for - powers that he was kind of terrified of and definitely didn’t know how to use responsibly. Him literally being murdered by his dearest friends while they were under mind control, and then being brought back again and having to heal from the mental and physical injuries. The severe medical torture and resulting mental shitshow that Cadmus had put him through. 

It was a lot to have to push down during everyday life, having to pretend he was okay - having to put up a front for everyone else when they simply assumed that he was. 

But there were a lot of times when he could forget about all that. Times when he wasn’t actively suppressing his trauma because you made things okay - because you distracted him in the absolute best ways. Times when he thought that literally everything in life was just perfect. And most of those times were when you were on top of him like this. 

He would consider this nothing short of literal heaven. 

The feeling of your sweet, wet cunt clenching down on him as he laid flat on his back, splayed out on one of the many luxurious beds of Wayne Manor. 

(“You need to relax.” You had told him, taking him by the hand and dragging him into the random bedroom. “You’re worrying way too much about everyone else right now. Someone needs to take care of you.”) 

And while he had not at all put up any physical resistance against you, pliant under your touch as usual, that conversation had originally started out as him protesting against your thesis. He had told you that: no, he was worrying just the right amount about everyone else, that they needed him. But his protests had quickly died down when you shoved him back onto the bed and drowned out his voice with your tongue. 

Gar always had a very hard time saying no to you. 

He wasn’t sure if it was selfishly motivated. From the outside looking in, others probably say that it was. Considering that he was a guy, and you were just as horny as him - he never felt the need to say no to you. Especially considering the fact that he had never felt a greater sensation than that of your wet pussy surrounding his cock. 

And usually with the promise of that dangling over his head, you had gotten him to do a great number of compromising things, both minuscule and potentially life changing. Or perhaps it was because you were the sweetest little vixen that had captured his heart. And any time you batted your eyes and asked him to do something in that sweet voice, you might as well have been casting a spell on him. 

And he knew that it wasn’t just a weak spot he had for you. 

You had worked that magic on Conner and Jason before. Gar was actively working under the firm belief that if you simply approached Jason and asked him to stop killing people nicely please, then he would take off the Red Hood mask and surrender himself politely, no questions asked. 

But all of that was the farthest thing from his mind as you bounced on his cock. 

With your hands sitting on his shoulders, your nails digging into his bare skin. His shirt had been lost at some point while his pants were shucked off around his ankles and caught up against his shoes. But he could barely even focus on his lack of nakedness or your own because he was obsessively caught in the feeling of your cunt warmly hugging around his hard cock. 

Though he was slightly wishing that your shirt was off, but far too pussy drunk to simply reach out and lift it off so he could enjoy the sway of your tits in his face without obstruction. 

You were a perfect wet vice around him, leaking wetness down over his heavy balls and smearing it up over his stomach as you bounced. And all Gar could really do was take a gentle hold on your hips and appreciate the ride. His face was absolutely knit with pleasure in a way that made you giggle with delight, watching his almost caveman-like expression of tight brows and a heavy set jaw as he stared at the place where you were joined with utterly intense concentration. 

You had never seen a prettier man in all your days - those big brown eyes entirely rapt with pleasure, soft lips and a glisten of sweat across his skin that made you even more intent on ruining him. 

“You gonna cum for me, baby boy?” Your voice laced around the words, breathy yet so commanding, so strong, holding the power over him as you always did. 

It was enough to send a rumble through Gar’s chest, a sharp echo of pleasure from your words. 

That was the sacred question. 

Of course, Gar never wanted it to end. Ultimately, he just wanted to stay like this forever - buried deep in your sweet cunt, feeling that intense warmth hugging him, having your perfect scent surrounding him and having every worry in the world pushed out of his brain. 

But he did feel all the telltale signs - that almost painful tingle in his balls and that deep twisting in his gut that told him it was going to he over too soon. He was going to cum for you, just like he always did. 

All he could gather in response was a choked off grunt. But you knew his language well enough by now - you knew him when he was swimming this deep in pleasure, and you certainly didn’t need words. You knew it just by the expression on his face, the growing look of tight-knit desperation, the gentle whimpers that began to escape his lips. 

Something so enticing that it caused you to run a thumb along his bottom lip, finding the curve of his mouth to be all too pretty when he let out those sweet little sounds. Naturally, he drew the digit inside and began sucking on it, enjoying the tang of your natural skin oils, something that only pushed him closer to the edge. 

Feeling that that sharp whine punched out of his chest, vibrating around your finger only caused you to double down. You bucked your hips harder, riding him with an almost vengeful kick, as though you were trying to push his entire body down through the bed. It was something that caused a loud, pornographic wet smacking to echo through the room - a blatant signal to anyone walking by that the two of you were going at it like rabbits. 

If Gar had any sense left between his ears, he would have been thankful for it being such a large house. He would have been thankful for some sense of privacy. 

Instead, he was totally brainless as the feeling of orgasm overtook his body. His mouth went wide around your thumb as he released a litany of almost pathetic moans and whimpers and he arched back into the bed, a pure exorcism of pleasure overtaking him. He mindlessly endowed his animal strength onto you - digging his fingers into your hips and forcing you down onto his cock for a few moments, forcing you to still on top of him as he shot his load of hot cum inside of you. 

This caused a few hot moans from your lips, nothing but pure enjoyment as you watched the radical pleasure rock him. 

It was such an intense orgasm that it made his muscles seize and jump, it easily made his balls ache. By the time his cock had spurted those last bits of cum into you, he thought that his dick would willfully go limp and fall out of you, being just as tired as he was as he collapsed back onto the bed. But he was still semi-hard and throbbing inside your pussy, tingling with overstimulation as you unconsciously clenched around him. 

You leaned down to his panting lips, sealing him in a hot kiss. 

Gar let out a strangled shriek when you began bouncing your hips again. 

A shockwave of hot pin needles flew up his body from the point where you were joined, erratic hot overstimulation overtaking him. His cock forcefully filled with blood again as you clenched down on him harder. Clearly, you were gaining some thrill out of feeling the extra slickness of his cum sliding between the two of you, out of hearing just how wet your thrusts were now. 

Gar let out another sharp whine and moved his very limp hands back to your hips. In his mind, it was an attempt to shove you off him, to take a fucking breath. But his fingers only dug into your flesh harder and pulled you down onto his cock with force when he felt a particular hot streak of pleasure flare up through his gut. It was almost against his will - but your pussy was just too fucking good. 

“Too much.” He moaned out weakly, a hot puff against your lips, the first thing he had said in an hour of more. “‘s too much.” 

You found the way he slurred the words to be entirely adorable - as though he was quite literally drunk on your pussy. The wide gape of his mouth, trying to draw in breath as you continued to punch it out of him, and the tears pricking the edges of his eyes only made it more beautiful. 

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked, slightly breathless yourself. 

You continued to slam your hips down on his cock, over and over again planting yourself in that filthy puddle of your mixed cum. 

It was a traitorous question. 

It was too much of a strain on his body, but it was everything he wanted. He was breathless and brainless and nothing else in the world existed except for your wet cunt squeezing his aching cock, your natural smell filling the world around him, the hot press of your tits against his chest. 

The word ‘stop’ didn’t seem to be in his vocabulary. 

He let out a strained choking sound, and found himself unconsciously bucking up into you - he found himself enjoying the painful sting that ran through him. Tears leaked from his eyes, and when you reached up to wipe them away, you gave him one last thoughtful sentiment. 

“Tell me to stop and I will.” You whispered quietly against his cheek. 

But it seemed that you already knew what his answer would be. 

Gar put a hand on your back, cradling you close, shoving his face in your neck and breathing in that perfect aroma of your sweat. 

Stop? 

You ground your hips down into him, creating nothing but a filthy wet ache. He choked on a moan and found himself holding you still once again so he could fuck up into you harder. 

“Please.” He moaned weakly against your skin. “Please, don’t stop.”

[khaleesiofalicante]

Hello I'm the annie who asked about watching hotd without having watched got. And guess what? I did! I watched s1 and ep 1 of s2 and I loved it so muchhhh. I cannot believe a show like this exists. I'm sure I'm missing some context because I haven't seen got but it's still so good. I could die for alicent and rhaenyra. Their relationship is so beautiful and complex and I'm completely in love. Here are some scenes I really enjoyed and some people i loved and hated:

1) the whole dinner scene in ep8. R and A toasting to eachother and then A being disappointed when R was leaving. That was probably one of my favorite episodes.

2) I loved kind viserys.

3) aemond chasing luke scene. I actually gasped at the end. I was heartbroken but that was some good shit

4) I hate the hand. And I hate christon cole. And I hate that foot fetish guy. I hate most of the men on the show tbh.

5) I love R's kids. Especially luke. I wanted to kill aemond so badly.

6) why is there so much childbirth in this show? Like in the first episode of the time jump when R is giving birth I could literally hear her vagina sounds. And the second was also very horrifying. And when Aemma gave birth- that shit scarred me. I'm never having kids after this.

7) I had no idea I'd love politics so much. But I really do. It's so fucking interesting. I'm obviously team black but I also feel very attached to alicient.

8) at first I was wierded out but at this point I've even stopped to think about the incest. Like they just marry their brother or sister and call them husband and wife? Okay cool.

9) what did you think about 'a son for a son'? I wish it had been aemond instead because I hate that asshole. Fuck aemond.

10) what do you think about R and daemon? I honestly don't completely understand his character. So much shit has happened.

11) it's crazy how much history A and R have and that THAT one night is still something that governs their relationship (atleast for A). I just. I love them. I love their love. I love that I get to see and feel it. When A touched R's hand in that dinner party episode- I felt SO MUCH. I love it when shows/stories make me FEEL. Does that make sense? I just love them so much.

12) A lighting a candle for Luke :'(

I cannot wait to watch the rest of it. It's so good. I don't know if I'll watch GOT or not because it's too long and I'm worried it won't match up to hotd and this style that I've gotten used to.

OMG YOU WATCHED. I AM SO HAPPY.

for those of you who don't know, before coercing people into watching f1, I was coercing people to watch GoT/HoTD. So, this makes me so happy hehe.

Watching this story and hating all the men is such an experience, trust me.

Or not you like Luke the most. My deepest sympathies 😔 the baby deserved so much better.

The show is very graphic about childbirth. I was watching all the murders unblinking and then hid under the blanket during the childbirth scenes lmao.

The whole marrying the brother thing is extremely common among the targaryens because that's how they keep their bloodline pure (which is a tradition that actually existed among many royalities before...)

A son for a son in the show was fucked up. I WANT TO HURL DAEMON FROM A MOUNTAIN. Also, it happens differently in the book. Do read up on it if you're interested!

I loooooved Matt Smith a lot so I was super into Daemon earlier on in season 1 but then he got really annoying really fast. LIKE BRO STOP MAKING THINGS WORSE.

I like Alicent a lot too. But I do not like this new arrangement with Cr*ston Cole. I HATE HIM.

I hope you watched the next episode today! The funeral procession scene was >>>> Also I don't support team green but the way their grief was portrayed, each one so different, was so well done.

BUT. BUTTTTTT. If you liked this and if you loved the politics, you will LOVE game of thrones. I promise. HoTD is good. But it doesn't even come close to GoT. GoT doesn't have as many dragons, BUT YOU WILL LOVE THE PLOT AND THE CHARACTERS I PROMISE.

[ceviteen]

Between you and I (Lee Heeseung) PART ONE

partner: Heeseung x reader.

genre: classmate to lovers!au, fluff

warnings: pet names, hugs and kisses, reader has vagina and breasts, and things that have to do with fluff (I have no more ideas lmao). lmk if I missed something!!.

Authors Note (A/N): English is not my first language, sorry for being so much time inactive I just have problems writing. I hope you enjoy this!! ❤️ (I think this is my last ENHYPEN fic for now).

Word count: 1275.

"Y/N, until you finally arrived!? Everything it’s okay?" 

It’s 8:30 am, and the class started at 7:45.  you always get 10 minutes early every class, what is happening? "Uh y-es, yes umm don’t worry" you whisper to your only and best friend infront of you, Yujin. The most beautiful girl in your classroom, everyone — literally — likes her but for a blablabla reason they don’t talk to her because of you. What’s the problem with you? No one knows.

"Open your books to pa-"

 A knock from the door is heard "Let me in pleeeaseee". A handsome and tall guy entered to the classroom with a pill of books in his arms "Oh, yes yes yes guys I forgot to tell you guys, this is our new classmate… Lee Heeseung." He nods like it’s the most uncomfortable moment in the planet earth. Closing the door, he looks at the teacher with a —why you forget about me, the new student ?— face. He rapidly looks for his sit. He sits behind you, the bad thing is that you cover him since you are a little taller than him. Nothing bad.

——-

After 45 minutes of hearing a stupid teacher talking about the European countries and blah blah blah not interesting things. The bell rangs with a loud ranggg!. You where in the lockers, taking your books for the next class when you feel a big hand in your shoulder.

"Excuse me, do you know what are the next class books?". You turned your head, he was looking you with the most innocent face you have ever seen. You nodded and get the books of your arm to show him "These are the books" "Thank you, and what is your name?" you get the books in your arms as you heard what he said "Oh, my name? my name is Y/N." You make your eyes bigger when you see that his hand grab yours with agreement "Beautiful name, poetic" he said as your hand shake with his,trying to hold your laugh "you are funny, do you know that?" and you let go of his hand slowly "No one said me that. Thank you, Miss Y/N." then he left and class started.

I’m the middle of the class a little inconvenient happened. Your friend Yujin left the class, she doesn’t said the reason. She just left without saying anything. After yujin left, you receive a paper note from behind "It’s she your friend?". You assumed that it was someone of the bullies one but then you receive another "It’s heeseung :)". Okay so, you were in class answering a shit of paper that was written by the classmate behind you instead of taking notes of the class? yes. you take your light green pencil as you turned the paper to the back "yes, she’s my friend, why?" you finish your write, make the paper a little circle and looking for his hands so you can give him the paper in his hands. "Thank you."

It passed 2 hours since classes finished.  You’re eating a chocolate chip cookie waiting for your friend to "pick you up"to get home. You where in the lockers near the entrance of the school. suddenly, you get a call from your friend. 

— Hey I can’t pick you up, I get sick, so sorry for not saying you before. The director call me at the middle of the class I dont know why.

Dont worry, I’ll go walking.

— Take a bus, it’s not healthy getting home in this cold. 

Well I’ll resolve myself, hope you get better. 

Stressfull, yes.. stressfull. Now.. how are you going to get to your apartment? If you go waking it’s like 3 hours walking, and in this days of cold is extremely difficult to get by walking so long time.

"Hey, why are you here at this hours of the night?". You look behind and it was him (again), Lee Heeseung. The new student that doesn’t know that all the class hates her, the new student who doesn’t know that she is going to get home by 3 hours walking. "Are you okay, do you need help?" as he took one,and then two, and then three steps forward you, your head has analyzing what was happening right now.

"Umm what?." "Your friend can’t get you home, huh?" "Okay, what are you doinghere in this hours of the night first of all." Okay okay so, you where in confusion about why or how Heeseung knew that. your head repeated that words.

why or how,why or how…

"I was packing my books and I heard your call from where I was." You look at him seriously trying not to get embarrassed. "Don’t worry, I can get by wal-" "I can get you to your house if you want". Your mind exploded, it’s the first time that someone that is not your friend tells you that he wants to take you home.

 "No, you don’t need to do it" you reject his offer "Come on, you can’t be in the streets at these hours, and alone." You analyze.. it’s true what he’s saying, you can’t go in these hours of the night alone.

———-

Its 6:55pm, sitting in the back seats of Heeseung’s car. the silence abounds the car peacefully, you with your headphones looking at the rain falling in the sky, everything was perfect. but not for much longer.

 "and.. what about you? how was your day?" you feel that you heard a voice, so you get your headphones off. "I’ts always stressfull, there’s a lot of things to do. How about you?" "I just entered here and seems to look good. Oh and your classmates talk me about something about you." Okay, let’s go back to that moment.

Heeseung and about 4 more students (the bully ones) where talking and babbling in the lunch time, he was sitting in around 3 tables ahead of yours. "Hey heeseung, do you see that girl with the black long hair? she’s the worst person I’ve ever met" one of them said, "and why?" Heeseung asked with curiosity "she is so unbearable and stresses if doesn’t get a good answer. I don’t know why she have friends" another of them said giggling "She doesn’t deserve it." and the bullys started to laugh like idiots that don’t have nothing to do with their lives."She knows everything, she even doesn’t let others to answer, because she is the "intelligent" of the classroom" one of them said while looking at Heeseung. “It’s that true? Or it’s only jealousy?". He’s smart enough to believe anyone "what are you talking about? why are you asking that?" one of the bullys said worried "it looks like a lie" Heeseung narrowed his eyes "are you defending Y/N? ,holy cow." one of them said "You are insane" two of them yelled at him. and all the bullies left the table, leaving Heeseung alone.

"I don’t think you are that type of person. I mean, yes you’re intelligent but not idiot and etc.." You flushed a little at his words. "Uggghh, I just hate them. They have me stressed" "don’t get stressed for them, they will bother you more." "yeah it’s true but I- I just dont wanna talk about it, okay?" your eyes watered just a little bit. You want to cry, but not infront of him. 

"It is here?" he asked as he stopped the car for a moment "before you get out, can you pass me your number.?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THIS IS PART1!! Soon PART2!

TAGS:

[here2bbtstrash]

Yoongi fingering u till u squirrttttttt

my god, anon. i don't know what to tell you. this was supposed to be a short lil drabble like the rest and then..... that that live yoongi happened and i. uh. my brain short-circuited. the thirst for this man overtook me. i think i just wrote the nastiest porn of my whole career lmao.

so anyway uhhhhhh - HOPE YOU ENJOY 🤪

pairing: yoongi x reader wordcount: 4.8k DO NOT FUCKING @ ME contains: my first ever OT7 scene :') ft. an incredibly dumb conversation abt squirting, best friend's friend to lovers (? idk what else to call it lmao), squirt god min yoongi (yes that's a warning), yoongi is in his that that live outfit bc i'm a menace to society, a lil bit of edging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, and obv. a whoooole lot of tongue and finger fucking and SQUIRTING 💦💦💦

“Remember that girl I took home last night?”

You just know Taehyung is about to say something gross by the look in his eye, the way he bites down on the edge of his red solo cup as he glances around the circle of his friends.

Well, his friends and you. There’s a clear distinction.

A few heads nod, shoulders shrug. You brace yourself.

“Fucking geyser, I’m serious. Soaked my whole bed. I had to sleep on the couch.”

Hoseok’s loud cackle rings in your ears, and he has to cling to Jimin’s arm to stay upright, clearly already well past tipsy. “I was wondering why you were washing your sheets! That’s typically a once-a-year activity for you, Taehyung-ah!”

You make sure Seokjin doesn’t miss the death glare that you aim in his direction. He dragged you to this stupid party, said otherwise he’d spend the whole time in the corner reading webtoons on his phone. And now you have to tolerate the absolute fuckery of his nasty friends.

He grimaces a silent apology back at you, bringing one hand up to smack Tae firmly on the back of the head.

“She peed?!” Jungkook’s eyes are wide as he pauses with his own drink halfway to his mouth.

Everyone reacts at once: Hoseok quite literally doubles over, Taehyung fights to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up, Jimin gives an aggressive side-eye, Seokjin covers his face with his hand. Even Yoongi reacts, smiling a rare wide smile, shoulders shaking a little with laughter.

Namjoon takes the educational opportunity, clapping a hand firmly to Jungkook’s back. “Do you know what squirting is?”

You watch as Jungkook’s eyes flit across the circle. “I thought it was pee,” he admits, voice a little quieter this time.

“You are so fucking dumb,” Jimin says, shooting Jungkook a look of utter disgust. Hoseok is literally on the floor at this point.

“It’s, uh…” Namjoon makes a face as he searches for the right words. “Female ejaculate.”

“Girl cum?” Jungkook translates.

“I don’t care if it was piss, it was fucking hot,” Taehyung says as he downs the last of his drink.

“You’re disgusting,” Seokjin says with a shake of his head as he offers a hand to help Hoseok to his feet. Taehyung sticks his tongue out, waggling it side-to-side, which just sends Hoseok right back down again with another peal of laughter.

“I’ve never hooked up with a squirter,” Jungkook says softly, like he’s a little disappointed.

You open your mouth to speak up, as the only person with a vagina currently partaking in the conversation, but Yoongi beats you to it. “You just don’t know what you’re doing.”

His words surprise you for a second, but you shake it off and continue. “Not every girl can squirt. Most can’t.” You shrug slightly.

“That’s not true,” Yoongi counters, and you whip your head to look at him.

“What the fuck do you know, Min Yoongi?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. You don’t know why Seokjin thought it was a good idea to bring you around his friends, when he knows you have no filter.

Yoongi raises a hand, as if to signal that he’s not trying to fight. “I’m just saying. Once you learn what to do, anyone can get there. Just takes some patience. And a lot of foreplay. But I’ve never not made a girl squirt.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, I’ve never squirted.”

It takes a moment for you to realize what you’ve set yourself up for, and you have to fight the urge to clap a hand over your mouth. The same response ripples through the group a millisecond later: eyes widening, lips pursing in silent expressions of shock.

“I think I need another drink– should we all go?” Namjoon asks, extremely unsubtle.

Before you can scramble to even think, let alone say anything, he’s got his arms around Taehyung and Jungkook’s shoulders and is shoving them towards the kitchen. Seokjin and Jimin work together to peel Hoseok off the floor and quickly follow.

Which just leaves you, Yoongi, and a very interesting proposition.

“So, are we doing this?” You ask bluntly.

Yoongi shrugs. “Only if you want to.”

You shoot him a look. “Don’t act all shy now, squirt god!” He exhales a soft laugh, and you gesture to the stairs. “Lead the way.”

It’s only once you’re perched on the end of his bed, eyes roving over the minimal, clean space of his room, that your nerves start to betray you. Yoongi sets his drink on the dresser next to yours, then drops down beside you.

You stare at the floor, unsure of what to do next, vaguely aware of his bent knees poking out of the large holes in his light wash jeans. He gently rests a hand on your thigh, and you’re wound up enough that you flinch at his touch.

“We seriously don’t have to do this.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” You ask, feigning ignorance and trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Might have something to do with the fact that this is the first one-on-one conversation we’ve ever had.”

You meet his gaze, a little surprised by the open expression on his face. You’ve always seen him as so reserved. “You don’t exactly say much.”

Yoongi shrugs like he can’t disagree. “Hard to get a word in with those guys sometimes.” He pauses, like he’s debating whether or not to keep talking, then continues. “And I figured Jin was playing some long game with you, so I was trying to be respectful.”

You make a face of sheer disbelief. “What?! Seokjin is my best friend, Yoongi. Period, end of sentence. It’s not like that and never has been.”

“Huh.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you can’t read the expression on his face. You turn towards Yoongi, pulling one bent leg up on the bed to fully face him. “What was that noise supposed to mean?”

“That’s just… interesting.”

“Stop being cagey.” You drive a finger into his side and he squirms a little. “What’s interesting?” Does he know something about Seokjin that he’s keeping from you?

“Well, I was clearly operating under false pretenses. Otherwise I probably would’ve acted differently around you.”

“Differently how?” You quickly chase his vague statement, pushing him, trying to understand. Yoongi doesn’t respond immediately, but the bed shifts as he mirrors your position, turning to open himself up to you. “What would you have done, Yoongi?” You try again, getting frustrated.

A shiver runs down your spine as he brings a hand to gently cup your jaw, his touch feather-light. His thumb strokes over your cheek and you swear your heartbeat falters.

“This,” he says simply, his voice deeper than you’ve ever heard it. And then he brings his mouth to yours.

His lips are soft and warm as they brush over yours, if a little tentative, like he expects you to pull away at any second. But the heat of his mouth ignites a spark in your belly that you’re suddenly desperate for more of.

You move your mouth against his, chasing the feeling as you bring a hand to the nape of his neck. Your fingers wind through his dark hair– you’d noticed when he walked in the door tonight how long it’s gotten, had thought absent-mindedly to yourself that it looked good on him.

Your head spins. Min fucking Yoongi. How is this real life? You’d honestly never thought twice about him– just lumped him in with the rest of Seokjin’s dumb friends. It’s starting to occur to you that maybe overlooking him was a mistake.

That suspicion is confirmed when he slips his tongue into your mouth to slide expertly over yours.

You run your other hand up his chest, fingers tracing the buttons of his overshirt, then the smooth cotton of the tank top beneath it. The wet heat of his mouth is already making you dizzy.

Yoongi brings a hand to the small of your back, moving the other from your jaw down to meet it. He shifts a little, but he doesn’t break away from you, and you gasp softly into his mouth when both hands drop to your ass to pull you into his lap in one smooth motion. Your knees press into the mattress on either side of him, your hips settling on top of his.

He kisses you for a second longer, tongue stroking over yours deftly enough that you can barely suppress the whimper it works out of you. Then he finally pulls back to glance up at you. His lips are full and pink, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. The unbuttoned linen shirt he’s wearing has slipped off one shoulder, exposing smooth skin and solid muscle.

There’s a look on his face, mouth dropped open slightly, like he can’t quite believe this is really happening. You can relate.

“Still want to do this?” Yoongi asks quietly, voice still low and a little hoarse now. His hands are pressed to your hips, thumbs tracing light patterns over the fabric of your jeans.

You can hardly find your voice to speak– when the word comes out, it’s a whisper, and one you can’t say emphatically enough. “Yes.”

He tilts his head up towards you and your lips find his, needier this time. There’s an undeniable ache in your core now, desire spreading through you like a licking flame. Yoongi’s hands start to move over your back, dragging the hem of your shirt up, and you break away from him only for as long as it takes to peel it over your head. You press your mouth to his again before the fabric has even hit his bedroom floor.

Yoongi’s kisses are sloppier now, tongue tasting yours with added urgency, momentarily rendering you breathless. You follow his lead, hands grasping to push his overshirt down his arms, then reaching to tug at his tank top. It’s like you can’t move fast enough– you’re shaking a little as he leans back, raising his arms to allow you to pull it off. You feel the heat of his touch at the center of your spine, and then he’s slipping your bra off, too, everything tossed off the edge of the bed to join your shirt.

The brush of his hands over your bare skin, running up the curve from your hip to your waist, is enough to make you shiver under his palms, nipples tightening.

Yoongi licks his lips as his eyes roam appreciatively over your body, but then his gaze meets yours again, and in a way this moment of anticipation feels more intimate than anything you’ve done tonight. You in his lap, both of you naked from the waist up, faces flushed with heat and want. Hovering at the precipice of something you don’t have words for.

“Lay down for me,” he says quietly. The darkness of his voice thrums through you.

You do as he says, thighs shaking slightly as you slide off of him and move to settle against the soft pillows with a slow inhale. You can only watch, dazed, as Yoongi gets to his feet– you swallow hard at the sound of his belt hitting the floor. He slips out of his ripped jeans, down to just his black boxer-briefs.

When he crawls up the bed to join you, you’re transfixed by the way his silver necklaces dangle, catching the dim lamplight. He kneels to one side of you, hands coming to unbutton the fly of your jeans and push them down your thighs. You do the rest, peeling them all the way off and tossing them to the floor.

His hands slide up your thighs, one encouraging your legs apart while the other rubs gently back and forth, his touch sending sparks through you. You can feel your heartbeat at the center of your ribcage, swear you can see it in the rise and fall of your chest as you glance up at him looking down over you.

“Stop me if you’re going to come, okay?”

You nod your understanding, but he must be able to read the confusion painted on your face. He shifts up the bed to lean over you, his breath ghosting along the shell of your ear.

“Save it for me, and I’ll show you what that pussy can do.”

Yoongi chases the words with a languid stripe licked up your neck, and it’s enough to make your brain short-circuit.

Never in your life has a man preemptively warned you to not come. Most of them have struggled to make it happen at all. You can’t help but wonder if you really did underestimate Yoongi’s abilities.

It certainly feels that way as he continues to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and chest, bringing one hand to gently cup and massage your breast as he goes, the pad of his thumb circling your nipple. His mouth catches up to his touch, and he sucks in the bud of that breast while his hand moves to work the other just the same.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you breathe.

Everything he’s doing is intoxicating, enough that there’s now a steady pulse emanating from between your legs. When he shifts to pull your other breast into his mouth, tongue swirling over your nipple in a way that makes you whimper and arch into him, he drops one of his legs down onto the mattress between your thighs.

You take advantage of the opportunity presented to you, thighs squeezing and hips canting up to drag your core over the smooth muscle of his leg, desperate for contact, for friction. Yoongi releases your nipple from between his teeth, giving a self-satisfied hum that you can feel buzz in his throat against your skin.

“Getting worked up already?” His words are punctuated by the kisses he trails down the valley between your breasts. “Keep going,” he urges.

Your mind is swimming with arousal, and each pass of your cunt over his thigh is enough to further dampen your now soaked-through panties. You’re not sure how much more worked up you could get. But Yoongi is clearly determined to find your limit.

When he shifts to move his mouth further down your body, he quickly replaces the thigh you’ve been grinding into with his hand, cupping over your center, his whole palm rubbing circles into the lace of your panties that make your clit twitch. You writhe under him as he sucks a mark into your hip bone, pulling sounds out of you: a mixture of heady groans at the welcome friction and soft whines at how indirect the pressure still is. You need more, more– you lift up to press your hips into his touch in search of relief. 

All too quickly, the motion of his palm stills, and you can’t help the strangled noise that escapes you. Both of his hands slip down your body, coming to rest at your hips, and his thumbs hook under your panties to push them down your thighs.

You fumble for a second, lifting your knees up to your chest to finish pulling your underwear over your ankles. As you fling your last article of clothing off the side of the bed and attempt to lower your legs down, you’re surprised to feel Yoongi’s hands pressing firmly into the backs of your thighs.

“Stay just like that,” he instructs, and you listen, crossing your ankles and following the encouragement of his touch to keep your legs pulled up, your bare cunt fully exposed for him.

You don’t know what to expect next– his fingers, maybe his tongue– but it’s certainly not what he does, which is look up at you and calmly ask, “How do you feel?”

Your answer is not a word in any language; it’s somewhere between a moan and a noise of pure frustration. Folded in half for him like this, you swear you can feel arousal starting to drip out of your pussy.

“That’s pretty good,” Yoongi remarks, lazily bringing one hand up to encircle your ankle in his grasp, enjoying his free rein over your body as it’s offered up to him. Even that gentle touch is enough to make your cunt clench around nothing. “But I think we can do better.”

You nod your head in a silent request as you watch him lean down onto the mattress, lowering himself to be eye-level with your pussy. “Haven’t even tasted you yet.”

“Please, Yoongi,” you gasp, and you can feel his breath over you, the heat and anticipation sending a bolt of electricity straight to your core.

“Just remember to stop me,” he warns, and then he leans forward to lick a thick stripe up your cunt. You cry out at the sensation, the wetness and warmth of his tongue sliding through your folds, and your head kicks back against the pillow as you feel his fingers gently part your inner lips for better access.

He pulls away for a fraction of a second, just long enough to hum softly and murmur “so fucking wet” under his breath. Your hands grip the bedsheets as he dives back in with even more enthusiasm, spreading you wide open.

The heat he’s been building up in you all night is coiling devastatingly tight in your core now– your head is spinning, your nipples so stiff that they ache. The thought of asking him to stop, and probably soon, from how deliberately he’s eating you out, feels nearly impossible.

Yoongi seems to settle in as he falls into a pattern with his movements: lazily circling your entrance a few times before delving in and fucking you all-too-briefly with his talented tongue, enough to make your walls squeeze greedily around him. After a few more thrusts he withdraws, using a long lick to drag your collected wetness up, his tongue pressing flat and heavy. When he reaches your clit he flicks gently over the sensitive bud a few times, eventually pulling it into his mouth to suck, eliciting a loud moan from you.

“Oh fuck, fuck, Yoongi–”

You swear you can feel him smiling smugly as he returns to your entrance to start again, somehow both sloppy and precise, humming a little in a way that sends a devastating wave of vibrations through you.

He keeps everything so slow it’s nearly torture, building up the tightening pressure inside of you a little more with each pass, but purposefully never staying so consistent that you tip over the edge– just leaving you wet enough to drown in. You can’t stop the moans and whimpers he pulls out of you now, the way your hips jerk under his mouth.

He’s fucking good at this.

You lose track of how many times he goes through the process, until you’re wound so tight with arousal you think you might burst.

“Yoongi,” you whine, and he must be able to hear the change in your voice.

Yoongi’s mouth freezes, lips still wrapped around your clit. His hands move to your thighs, gently ushering your feet to return to the mattress on either side of his head, your legs still spread wide, so he can see you. He hums around you as if to ask a question, and your hips shudder beneath him.

That must be a good enough answer, because he pulls off of you, reaching up to wipe an errant strand of slick from his bottom lip. Everything about him in this moment makes your pussy throb: his mouth, nose and chin are all coated in your juices, the results of his efforts, and his pupils are blown black with lust and something that looks like determination.

You have no idea how long it’s been since you disappeared up the stairs together. Hours, maybe days. Yoongi certainly looks like he could do this forever.

“Gonna come?” He murmurs, nuzzling his cheek absent-mindedly against your inner thigh as he holds your gaze.

“I–” He hasn’t let you get that close yet, but you feel so fucking full, like your core isn’t capable of holding onto any more pleasure. “I can’t take any more,” you say, and the desperation in your own voice sounds so ridiculous to you that you let out a crazed laugh. “I’m gonna fucking die, Yoongi.”

“Yeah?” There’s a glint in his eyes, like he’s not going to let you tap out that easily. “What if I do this?”

His tongue returns to your clit, but this time he’s no longer teasing. His rhythm is consistent now, lapping against you in short, deliberate strokes, over and over. You can feel every muscle in your core tensing as he works you relentlessly towards your peak.

When your back starts to arch, it takes everything in you to say his name. “Yoongi,” you gasp, and he knows you’re about to come, must be able to tell by the way you start to shake underneath him. You cry out a sound that’s nearly a sob when he pulls back quickly and everything comes to a screeching halt. It’s like you can feel your orgasm being ripped out from under you.

“Oh my god,” you whine, hips grinding down into the mattress, desperate for any possible friction. “I’m so fucking close, Yoongi, please.”

His eyes linger hungrily over your pussy, the mess he’s made of you. Keeping his touch light, he gently traces a finger over your inner lips, clearly admiring the way it makes you tremble.

“Seems like you’re ready.”

You’d almost forgotten the point of all of this, the initial conversation in the kitchen, the fact that the man now lazily running a finger through your dripping folds is supposedly capable of making anyone squirt and that you are putting him to the test. You already believe it wholeheartedly– you’re just not sure you’ll survive long enough to see it.

Yoongi sits up, shifting to kneel to one side of you, hands encouraging your legs to spread even wider. When he starts to speak, you try as best you can to focus on his words, dizzy as you are with overwhelming need.

“I’m gonna press pretty hard, okay? When it feels like you have to pee, push it out instead of trying to hold it in. I promise, it’s not pee.” He pauses, laughing softly to himself, then adds, “And if it is, honestly, I don’t give a fuck.”

You look up at him, your mind reeling, and you’re not expecting it when he ducks down to kiss you. You taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

“Don’t be nervous,” he murmurs as he pulls back. “Just relax and let go. I’ll go until you tell me to stop.” Your heart flutters a little behind your ribs at the softness in his voice, and you nod.

Your breath hitches as you feel Yoongi’s hand return to your center, two fingers moving down slowly to tease at your entrance. The fire in your belly ignites at the soft squelching noise he makes as he circles, just shy of entering you, dampening his digits with your juices.

Relief washes through you as he presses in, and you tip your head back on the pillow with a soft groan. Your lashes flutter as you fight to keep your eyes open, heavy-lidded with lust, to watch him at work.

“Shit,” you hiss as he curls his fingers up to press against your front wall, finding your g-spot like someone who knows exactly what he’s doing. He pushes harder, falling into a steady rhythm, and the pleasure feels like a heavy weight in your gut now. A tingling sensation starts to hum through your limbs.

You’re panting, nearly gasping for breath as he rubs against you, each thrust of his hand accompanied by the slick sounds of your cunt. Your abdomen tightens as the pressure in your core builds, and you really do feel like you’re going to burst, overflow completely.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, “I–I’m– I’m gonna–”

“Push,” he reminds you, and you do just that as the wave crashes over you. A release like nothing you’ve ever felt before rips through you, and you’re so overcome by the feeling that it takes you a few seconds to remember to look down. Shakily tilting your head up, you see clear fluid gushing out of you each time Yoongi pulls back.

When he sees you’re watching, he withdraws entirely, bringing four soaked fingers to your clit to rub fast circles that make you moan loudly as your muscles spasm again. Without his hand there to block it, you watch as an unbroken stream of fluid rushes out of you, spraying over the sheets of his bed.

“Oh my god,” you whine, and you have to tilt your head back and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment just to focus on the feeling alone. “Oh my god.”

Yoongi makes a little noise of appreciation, fingers returning to your entrance, the wet sounds of your cunt now obscene as he pushes in again. “Fuck yeah. So fucking sexy.”

You arch up into his touch as he resumes the firm stroking of his fingers, pounding into your g-spot, hard enough to make your legs shake. When another wave of pleasure rolls through you, you don’t even have to think about it this time. Your body instinctively remembers Yoongi’s instructions, bursts of arousal shooting out of you as you moan softly with each pump of his hand.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you gasp in time with his movements.

“Holy shit,” Yoongi rasps as he draws his fingers out again, and you hear him groan when he returns to your clit and easily works even more wetness out of you. “You just keep fucking coming. Gonna soak my fucking sheets.”

You can barely process what he’s saying. “M-more, Yoongi, please.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I’ll give you more.” He adds another finger, driving the thrust of his hand deliberately into the weight at the center of your core, and the stretch only makes you come that much faster. Your pussy starts to quiver as he fucks you through it.

“Yoongiiiii,” you groan, dragging out his name as you squirt again and again. He keeps alternating, fingers slipping into you and working up more, then pulling out to press his hand flat against your whole pussy, rubbing indirectly over your clit. Wetness splashes out of you in endless spurts, soaking your cunt, his hand, the bed. It feels like you're coming for hours.

“No more, no more,” you finally gasp, and when you bring your hand to close over his wrist, Yoongi takes the cue and withdraws.

Your pussy, thighs, even the muscles in your ass are all trembling from overstimulation. As your knees drop in towards each other, you take a moment to let your eyes close, your pulse still racing. You feel absolutely spent.

You can’t believe you just did that. You had no idea your body was capable of such a thing. And before you can even think to stop it, you start to laugh, bringing both hands up to cover your face.

“Oh my god,” you manage to choke out between giggles, your voice muffled in your palms.

You’re vaguely aware of the mattress shifting beside you, and when you pull your hands away, Yoongi is seated next to you, running one hand gently over your arm. “Jesus, are you okay?” When you nod, he seems to relax a little.

“Yeah, but holy shit,” you gasp. “I should’ve taken you more seriously.” Your limbs feel like jello, your mind absolutely gone– you’ve officially been fingerfucked into oblivion. “I nearly died.”

“That was fucking insane,” Yoongi admits, looking mildly dazed himself. You follow his gaze across the bedspread, and your eyes go wide.

“Oh fuck, Yoongi,” you press a hand to your mouth, attempting to hold back more laughter, as you take in the extent of the damage. “Your sheets!”

A sizable wet spot has bloomed under your ass, right in the center of the bed and extending nearly half a foot down towards the end, clear as day against his gray-blue sheets.

“Why didn’t you stop me?!”

“Are you kidding?” He practically growls, free hand palming at the bulge in his briefs. “I’ll take watching you gush like that any day. I can sleep on the couch, I don’t give a fuck.”

It takes all the strength you can muster, given that your limbs still feel like they’re made of lead, but you manage to roll over onto your side to face him. You catch his working hand by the wrist with yours. “There’s always… my bed.”

“Yeah?” A smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Think your pussy can recover on the ride over?”

You laugh softly, glancing down at the mess he’s made of you, the lingering sheen from his mouth and your own fluids. “I’m honestly not sure. She might be out of commission.” You do your best to feign innocence when you meet his gaze again with a coy smile. “But my throat is very available.”

Yoongi is already reaching for his jeans. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

[queenimmadolla]

Vivi, I cant stop reading your penny verse writing! It’s so good and it like makes me glow with happiness! I literally hate children but you’ve somehow given me baby fever! Especially like being pregnant is just at the forefront on my mind and having my partner coo at a growing belly, petting it and kissing it! OMG VIVI YOU’RE POISONING MY MIND WITH THOUGHTS OF BABIES AND GROSS DOMESTIC SHIT LMAO! (But I love you for it)

I AM HONORED. That makes me feel SO relieved because I, too, hate kids. Like, other than my nieces and nephews, I can’t tolerate kids. I think the majority of them are gross and way too annoying for how expensive they are. Luckily my nephews and nieces are pretty good kids/babies so they make it easy for me to give everyone baby fever with Penny and baby Wayne. Also, I give myself baby fever lol I catch myself thinking I could be like Penny’s mom if I had a baby lmao and you didn’t SAY it was a request but uh . . .

warnings: fluff galore (eddie talking to Penny while she’s still in your tummy)

(eddie munson x pregnant!reader)

more pennyverse here

“What does it feel like?” Eddie asked from his position, laying a little further down near your belly. He was referring to the baby nestled inside and actively kicking against where his palm lay over the bare skin of your bump.

It had taken a while, but you were finally showing in an obvious manner. You’d only discovered you were pregnant about three months ago and you had been ridiculously far along at five freaking months but your stomach hadn’t changed to let you know you were even expecting. It was really only in the last month and a half that your baby shifted to press against the front of your womb. She’d apparently gotten so comfortable, she’d decided to remain there, meaning you’d grown quite the bump in a short amount of time thanks to her rapid development. You still weren’t huge, though, so you didn’t expect her to be a big baby. Or at least, you hoped not, for the sake of your vagina. “Mmm,” You hummed, eyebrows pinched together as you tried to come up with a comparison Eddie would be able to relate to. There wasn’t really one, it was an odd sensation to have her kick from inside of you. On some occasions, you swore you could feel her move, shift around in there. “This is gonna make no sense, but it feels like a fish.” “What?” He laughed out, warm brown eyes flickering up to stare at you in amusement.

“Have you cupped a goldfish in your hand?” “To put it in a bowl or something?” “Yeah!” You nodded, head resting on a stack of pillows on the floor. One thing about the sudden baby bump is your back was not used to the additional frontal weight, so you’d taken to laying on the ground pretty much anywhere, even at home. Your friends found it very amusing and so did Eddie, once he got past his concern. “It feels like how they wiggle against your skin. Just a little more firm. And in my tummy.” 

Eddie made a sound of acknowledgment before another kick was pressed against the palm of his hand, drawing his attention back to his unborn child. “Damn, my girl’s got a pair of legs on her, doesn’t she?”

He caressed your swollen belly, a look of adoration plastered on his face. You’d never grow tired of watching him prepare to be a father, he already loved her so much. Plus, your hormones were crazy and seeing him like this really got you going. “Do you think she can hear me?” It was the billionth time he asked. He always did before he talked to her. “She’s surrounded by amniotic fluid, so you probably sound like you’re underwater to her but she only gets this active when you’re talking to me. Think she likes your voice.” It was true, while she’d occasionally move around, she only ever got active when Eddie was present, always loud and boisterous. 

You could tell Eddie felt a lot of pride in that, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your belly, hiking your blouse up a little further as he began their nightly conversations.

“You already know you’ve got me wrapped around your little fingers, don’t you?” He cooed out, watching the area of your stomach she was focused on pressing against, rising before she no doubt retracted her little foot.

“I can’t wait until I meet you–I mean, I can wait so don’t go getting any ideas but when you're finally out here with us, I promise I’m gonna take such good care of you and your mom.” He promised, licking his lips as they formed a soft smile.

“You got really lucky with her, too. She’s ridiculously pretty. Gonna have to fight other people off once she’s a milf. You don’t know what that is, I forget. A milf is a mother I’d like to f–” “Eddie!” You laughed, hand reaching up to hide your smile.

“You’ll learn when you’re older, “ He smirked, though it dropped quickly when he remembered how kids could be dicks sometimes and if they spotted her pretty mommy picking her up from school, she might find out when she’s not so much older. “And you’ll let me know if anyone refers to her as one so I can fight them, yeah?”

He took the next kick as one of agreement.

“That’s my girl. Now listen, about the sleeping arrangements. Personally, I’d like to keep getting a decent amount of sleep after your mom’s done baking you in there. Actually, I’m pretty sure your mom would, too, so I'm thinking maybe you just immediately sleep through every single night. If you’re opposed to it, that’s fine ‘cause–ya know, you’re gonna get your way regardless but it was just a recommendation.” 

“And of course, cuddles. It’s imperative you know the second you’re in my arms, I will not be willingly putting you down. Most of your naps are gonna be there, in fact, you’ll probably ignore my sleeping recommendation so you’ll be sleeping in my arms, too, which isn’t a bad thing. Your mom does it all the time and I haven't received any complaints or bad reviews yet. Kisses are also mandatory, only a select few people are allowed to kiss you ‘cause I’ve done my research but considering it’s all I want to do right now and you’re not actually out yet, I will be unable to refrain from smothering you with them. I just know you’re gonna get annoyed with me, but I won’t be able to stop.”

As if to make his point, Eddie pressed a smattering of kisses to your belly, chuckling when you squirmed underneath him. “I’ll teach you how to walk, I’ll teach you how to ride a bike, how to play an instrument–lucky for you, your daddy is multi-talented–I’ll take you on little daddy-daughter dates, your mom taught me how to braid hair so I can do that for you, too. I’ll do anything for you. Anything you want. So just finish up in there, okay?” 

Eddie felt the heavy weight of your stare on him and once more, his gaze was flickering up to meet yours. “What?” “You’re so fucking cute. I’d offer to have your babies but I already am.”

Eddie smirked and pressed a kiss on the lower half of your belly, trailing a few even lower than that. “And I am soooo very appreciative of you, I think I should probably show you how much.”