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yanderenightmare · 1 year ago

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TW: nsfw, anal, suggestiveness & pressuring

fem reader

Thinking about really boyfriendly boyfriends – simpy and helpful and sweet – boyfriend material perfectly cut as if custom-ordered – boxed and shipped and sent express mail from the boyfriend factory with love.

He’s interested in your hobbies and studies and is equally passionate about sharing his interests with you. He’s comfortable and playful with your family and makes a true effort to befriend your friends. He’s even outgoing at parties where he doesn’t know anyone but you instead of sulking and asking you to leave like so many past boyfriends have.

He likes sharing food, sings loudly in the car, texts you throughout the day, and calls you when he’s at the store before coming over, asking if you need or want anything. He’s open and honest and geeks over new releases – that movie trailer, that game, those sneakers, that album, that car, and all that other boy stuff – and yet never fails to tell you how beautiful you are every time he sees you.

And he likes taking you on dates – cinema, arcade, roller rink, amusement park, road trips, picnics, beach days – or simply hanging out at his or your place – making food, binging a series in bed, kissing and dry-humping…

He’s just, all in all, everything you could’ve ever wished for. Perfect in every way.

Only… there hasn’t been a single time he’s had you in bed where he hasn’t all but begged to fuck your ass…

He’s literally crying for it while moaning, “Please~ lemme put it in~ just wanna try it once, please, baby~” with his hands squeezing your butt over your shorts and his head under your shirt, kissing and sucking your tits with the prayers on his lips as he humps his tented crotch against your clothed cunt – making your panties hot and damp.

You squeeze your eyes shut with a suppressed whine.

He keeps pleading, “I’ll be gentle~ just the tip~ I’ll go so slow~”

His fingers dig into the crevice of your cheeks, wedging your shorts and undies through your slit. Everything clenches from the friction.

Your face is heated, biting your lip with cinched brows. You knew he’d ask for it again today – he never doesn’t. Even though he’ll get pussy-drunk and pound your poor womb in a tight mating press the second he’s made you cum on his fingers.

He slurps your nipple, still begging, “Please, baby, please~ it’ll feel so good~ so-so-so good~”

You’d been deliberating giving in to his incessant proposals for a little while. He’d been so unrelenting you were starting to feel bad denying him for so long.

Not like past boyfriends hadn’t been equally relentless in the ask.

But this one was different… unlike the others… you really like him.

You think you might be in love with him, even though it’s a little early to say.

Still… since he’s so perfect… you want to do your best to be perfect for him, too.

So you’d made yourself ready for it this time – done preparations in the shower.

But… you pout… it was all so embarrassing, and your poor mind was riddled with doubts as though you were a virgin all over again.

What if something… gross happens? What if it hurts so bad you have to stop? Will it disappoint him? What if you hate it but go through with it anyway, only for him to keep asking? What if you have to break up because you won’t ever be able to look him in the eyes again?

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?” His voice slips through the inner turmoil.

He’d resurfaced from beneath your shirt on account of your silence, only to see you’d covered your face in both hands. He gently peels them away – revealing your eyes and the shy way you nibble your lip.

“I’m sorry…” He apologizes then. “I’ll stop asking-”

“No!” You blurt. To his surprise – staring at you with those big puppy-dog eyes you just couldn’t handle seeing look so disheartened. “I mean…”

You look away, cheeks burning – voice just barely above a whisper.

“If you really want to… I’m fine with it…”

He seemed to perk up at that. If he’d had a tail, you know it would be wagging behind him.

His chest swelled, eyes big and unblinking, swallowing thickly – breaths already thick with containment.

He leans in close and nose-kisses you, brushing your lips with heated words, “Really? You’ll let me?”

You made a small sound, too humiliated to say or do much more than nod your head in confirmation.

He seemed to shudder, closing the space between you, kissing your lips softly – he tasted like static – buzzing with restricted urgency. Parting with a soft-spoken yet strained, “Thank you.”

Both his hands messaged your waist – fiddled with the band to your shorts as though he couldn’t wait to drag them down your thighs and free you.

Still speaking against your lips, “Can you turn around on your knees for me?”

Everything was burning – from the tips of your ears to your lips and deep down in your stomach where something equally hungry and anxious was preparing for something.

He moved back to allow you to crawl into position, taking a pillow and placing it underneath you – patting it while telling you to “Lie down.”

You did like suggested, lying with your face and chest against the soft plume, sinking into it with your back in a slope and your ass presented. Heart pounding in your head, loud and hot, as he took position behind you – placing his hand back on your hips.

He hooked his fingers into the band of your shorts again, pulling them back over the fat of your haunches, then dragged them down slowly until they pooled around your knees. You felt the damp heat of his breath immediately hit the peach fuzz on the small of your back – seeping through the cotton of your panties – making your belly brew with butterflies.

“Just relax, okay? Tell me to stop if I go too far.” He said, sensing how you quaked as he placed both palms on your globes – denting the plump flesh with greedy fingers.

It’s not like you haven’t fucked in this position before – it’s just that you knew this time was going to be different. You felt so exposed.

He fingered the frill of your panties and started peeling them off – baring your naked skin and the pretty dip between your cheeks.

You yelped. His mouth was on you before he’d even finished undressing you – placing a sloppy half-bite half-kiss on your upper ass before proceeding to slurp the crack.

You whimpered – flustered and flushed as the heat of his tongue laid wet trails down through the valley until his lips met with your rim. You shuffled your thighs and balled the pillow in small fists as he groaned into you. Shamelessly squeezing your fat with his hands, spreading the cheeks to let him at your little puckered hole.

Your eyes screwed shut while you hid your face in the pillow beneath you – muffling all uneasy sounds as he canted his mouth against your ass. Chin rutting into your puffy cunt while bobbing his jaw, lipping at your taint and rim – nose nuzzled between your cheeks – mouth fully closed around you – moaning at the feel of it pulsing on the tip of his tongue as he runs it over the tight scrunch again and again.

Your shoulders brace as he tries and screw the wet muscle inside. You tense up way too tight for it to happen.

He smacks off with a raunchy sigh. Your heart is in your throat.

Slick from your ignored cunt feels sticky on your swelled pussy-lips – hot and twitching in the cool air.

He pops the cap of the little bottle of lube the two of you always keep on hand. You flinch when his slick fingers come back to rub your hole. He gives it slow and soothing circles before easing the tip inside. Filling you up only to the first joint, waiting for you to relax and loosen before sinking the rest inside.

He hums at the display, groaning, “Fuuh-ck~” Sliding the digit in knuckle-deep before slipping it out to the tip again – repeating the motion while feeling your muscles ripple around it. “You’re so cute, baby~ so pretty~”

He bows and places a chaste kiss on your buttcheek, laying his face on it like a pillow – his eyes half-mast while looking at his finger disappear inside you.

He works another in with the first, shuffling them – messaging the tightness, slowly training it to stretch. His hot breath fans over your wet skin, making you go goosefleshed.

“Fuck, baby – so pretty with my fingers inside yah~” He hums, almost in a whine while curling them inside you. “So fucking hot how you swallow and squeeze on ‘em like that~”

He pulls himself up again, tugging on his belt with one hand – keeping on fingering you with the other.

His pants drop to the floor a moment later, and he lifts his neglected cock out of the sticky mess he’d made in his boxers – throbbingly fat and hard, pulsing in his fist and leaking pre, another pearl each time he rubs over the bulge of his tip.

He looks at your hole – eyes misty. You seem to have loosened up a bit – enough for him to part his fingers.

He pulls them both out with a schlick. “I think you’re ready…” His voice is sticky – stuck to his throat. “I’m gonna try ‘n put it in.”

Your hands curl into the pillow as you nod your head – eyes still squeezed shut. It hadn't felt too bad so far – just weird. Embarrassing and… clinical. A bit like a doctor’s visit. But you knew that would all change now.

His hands glide across your back, catching your crop top in balled fists, stretching it as his tip works on stretching out your opening – nudging against it, coaxing it into accepting the head.

“Fuh- oh fuck~” He moans, lost to the sight and feel of your butt seizing around him – closing up around his tip.

You look so fucking perfect like that – face-down and kneeling with your ass pressed back against him – giving him your second virginity.

His eyes flitter across the slope of your spine – looking over your creamy skin, looking so pretty, all glossy with dew, until he reaches your face. Your brows are pinched together, gnawing on your bottom lip, eyes shut tightly.

“Are you okay?” He pants.

You nod your head – curt and rushed.

He suppresses a sound – feeling even more heated. You’re so perfect, so good to him – the best girlfriend he could have ever asked for. Trusting him like this, letting him do this even when you’re so nervous about it. You must really love him.

He’s nearly crying, holding onto your hips as he fucks you with just the tip – loosening the rim up and going just a little deeper for every shallow thrust. He nearly barrels over, standing there with his back hunched – bowing his head, looking at where the two of you connect while sweat drips from his weighted bangs.

“I love you, too.” He confesses out of the blue, and you blink, looking back at him – seeing his mouth parted with blissful moans, his eyes wet, and brows softly curled. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect fo’me – so good.”

He loves you so much he can barely take the blossoming in his chest, feeling like he wants to eat you up and swallow you whole. His girl – who laughs at all his silly jokes and holds his hand everywhere you go and doesn’t tease him when he yelps and holds you close during horror movies. His perfect perky girlfriend – who lets him fuck you raw and cum inside, and now… even letting him fuck your tight round ass for the very first time.

He's almost all the way in now – just a few more thrusts, and you’ll have him swallowed down to the base with his balls pressed firmly against the puffy lips of your wet pussy.

“Fuh-uuck-” He breathes out again, gripping your hips tight as he bottoms out.

He nearly cums right then, having to bite his lip to hold back – savoring how you ripple and squeeze him – so tight and firm.

You’re such a good girl taking him so well and so deep, lying so sweetly beneath him with your ass presented – letting him nestle his entire length inside you. Curling your toes all cutely as you adjust with only pretty girly mews leaving you.

You didn’t expect him to mount you.

But he does. Now standing with his feet in the bed, squatting over you with his cock sinking balls deep in your ass. Freshly broken-in, it’s tight and firm and twitchy as though it’s confused as to why there's a big fat cock stretching it out.

He can’t help but smile, perched on top of you – hands still hooked upon your hips for balance while he leans forward, settling even deeper.

You moan, and it nearly drives him wild. Barely holding himself together as he pulls out – wishing he had something to bite into instead of his lip as he focuses on the way your firm walls clench on him, clinging to his shaft so tightly it’s hard pulling out despite the wetness – it’s so good he’s losing it.

He’s taking his perfect girlfriend in her perfect ass. And it feels so fucking good his hands leave their grip on your hips as he slugs forward, bending over you until his chest presses into your back, and his head rests on top of yours, cheek to cheek – slinging both arms around you, putting you in a headlock – leaving you to do nothing else but pant, squished between his biceps and his cock kisses your guts.

“Can’t believe I'm fucking your little ass, baby.” He rants breathlessly. “It's so tight and good, gripping me so fuckin’ hard.” Huffing and groaning with his back hunched as he curves into your butt as deep as he can – stuffing into you from behind slowly and carefully as though he’s savoring every single flutter of you hugging him.

He’s barely even pulling out – kneading as far as his cock can reach instead – cock-warming himself inside you.

“Fuck, baby – I can cum inside, right?” He whimpers against you, kissing the corner of your mouth with his tongue out.

You’re so squished beneath him you can only just wheeze out the word. “O-okay-”

“Oh- fuck, I love you.” He cries when he blows, squeezing you so tight you’re choking as he pumps pulse after pulse of thick hot cum deep inside you. “I love you, I love you- love you- love you so much- so fuckin’ much-”

And you don’t know if it’s the confession, the headlock, or the cum being pumped up your guts – but your clit’s pulsing and your cunt’s twitching even though it’s around nothing, gushing down your shaking thighs as your butt pushes itself flush against your boyfriend’s cock, clenching hard around it and milking him free of every drop.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Denki, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Touya-Dabi, Hawks, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Gojo, Yuji, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Kuro, Bokuto, Miya twins ♡ AOT – Armin ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Sakura, Nirei, Umemiya

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

Revised version available here:

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cregansdingdong · 10 months ago

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imagine cregan and y/n breaking the bed one night just because of his sheer strength and muscle whilst pounding her, ik the conversation with the winterfell wood crafter would be awks as hell afterwards whilst asking for it to be repaired 😇😇

IM HAVING A PROPHETIC VISION, ANON.

At this point, Cregan and his boo thang are just going to have to become familiar with the man. There is no other option, because your choices are either to have this embarrassing conversation a multitude of times with multiple woodcrafters or just one. Because if y'all think this is a one-time thing, you are terribly mistaken.

Cregan is a very passionate person in bed, regardless if he's on top or not. He wants to make sure the two of you are satiated—that does mean the bed will snap like a twig under a boot i dont make the rules i just work here. Personally, I find the actual deliverance of the bedframe to be the most mortifying. Firstly, that big ass broken bed has to be dismantled and removed, if it's not fixable, which takes manpower, and then the new one brought into the Great Keep and put together. Otherwise, the woodcrafter is going to have to make a house call and show up with his tools and planks, walking toward your marital chambers which is embarrassing too :)

ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. (thoughts ver.)

NSFW stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

That familiar groan under his weight should've been the first warning sign, but Cregan was too distracted to notice. He was lapping at her pretty cunt, tongue delving as deep as he could go and as thorough as he could be without the motions being too unsteady. Alright maybe he did notice initially, but the thought was very quickly shoved to the back of his mind—especially when his pretty wife was trying to rock herself onto his nose, letting out the most quiet of whimpers muffled by their sheets. His ears were focused on her and her only.

With her pearl rubbing against his bridge and his cock feeling so strained in his trousers, no one could really blame him for forgetting about the delicate state of the bed in an instant. Last time they’d gotten particularly frantic in their lovemaking, there had been a low snap somewhere beneath the mattress, a taunt that he was probably too hefty to be moving so much. But winter was coming, a man’s gotta eat…in more ways than one.

By the time he’d recalled they should begin to take it easy on the bed, he was already balls deep behind her, hands gripping the flesh of her ass like a lifeline. He was suffocating in the best way, cock nestled inside, fogging his brain with nothing but instinct. And then she started begging. By then, well, he decided they needed a new bed anyway—six moons wasn’t too bad. Lasted longer than the previous replacement. Three harsh, unrelenting spanks bloom red on her backside as she squeezes around him, sending his blood pumping to the beat of an imaginary war drum. It would be a miracle from the Gods if she wasn’t pregnant by mid-summer. Cregan just couldn’t help himself.

Rutting against her like a man starved, the right side of the bed almost completely collapses, caving in and nearly throwing him off balance. His wife gasped, pleasure momentarily halted as she looked back at him. “Again? Seriously? I told you to write to him last time, did you?” The answer was no, no he did not. “It might have…slipped…my mind.” He murmured, trying to ignore the throbbing in his full balls. They had a silent conversation of glares and a sheepish grin. Then she concedes. “...We might as well finish then. I doubt it can get any worse.”

It could, actually. And it did. He came hard some twenty minutes later, pounding their hips together with a steady desperation. The dip of the broken side was a little annoying, but manageable. Without the support, the right beams of the canopy end up falling right down. No one was harmed, of course. It was only drapes. Cregan found it almost comical but his wife did not. It was going to be a long letter.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

#dingdonganswers #hotd #house of the dragon #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan stark x female reader #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark smut

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lushleona · 5 months ago

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imagine mentor mattheo teaching reader auto control, fucking her and telling her she can’t cum until he says so

── .✦ mentor!mattheo teaches you self-control

warnings: fem!reader, unprotected p in v, fingering, choking, spanking, biting, praise, slight degradation, power imbalance

“you’ll never survive if you can’t control yourself.”

his voice is low, dangerous, cutting through the silence of the empty training room. your chest heaves as you stand across from him, sweat slicking your skin, your muscles burning from hours of drills.

“again,” he says, but there’s something else behind it this time. something sharp.

“that last drill was good enough,” you snap, wiping your face with the back of your hand, your heart still racing—not from exhaustion, but from the way his eyes have been burning into you all day. dark, unrelenting.

he pushes off the wall, moving closer, his boots soundless against the floor. “no. you’re impatient,” he murmurs, circling you slowly, his breath warm against your neck as he brushes past. “reckless. always wanting to skip to the end. to take what you want without waiting for it.”

you swallow hard, your pulse thrumming in your throat. “maybe i just don’t see the point in waiting.”

his fingers ghost over your wrist, tugging you toward the door without another word.

your room is dark, the digital windows set to an image of the city streets. mattheo’s hand grips your jaw the second the door shuts, his thumb pressing just hard enough to make your breath hitch. his eyes—dark, predatory—roam down your body, lingering on the flush creeping up your chest.

“strip,” he orders, voice a low, dangerous drawl.

you hesitate, stubborn as ever, and his brow arches.

“don’t make me ask twice.” his tone is calm, almost amused, which somehow makes it worse. “you’re not in charge here. i am.”

your fingers tremble as you pull your shirt over your head, stripping down until you’re bare under his gaze. mattheo steps closer, his fingers hooking under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes.

“that’s better,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip. “always so fucking defiant… but look at you now. doing exactly what i say.”

he backs you onto the bed with slow, deliberate steps, his grip never loosening. you expect him to kiss you, but instead, he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear.

“you’ve got no patience,” he says softly, fingers trailing down your thigh. “no self-control. lucky for you, i’ve got plenty for both of us.”

his hand snaps between your legs, slapping your inner thigh, and you gasp, your body jerking.

“hold still,” mattheo growls, his hand coming down again, harder this time, leaving a sting that makes heat bloom low in your belly. “you don’t move until i say.”

his fingers slide between your folds, gathering your wetness before pressing two fingers inside you. his thumb circles your clit in slow, lazy motions, deliberately not enough, building a tension that has you squirming beneath him.

“already so fucking desperate,” he taunts, curling his fingers in a way that makes your back arch. “look at you. soaking my hand like a good little tribute.”

your cheeks burn at his words, but the embarrassment only makes you wetter.

“please,” you gasp, your hips rocking against his hand.

“please, what?” he pulls his fingers out, holding them up to your lips. “taste yourself. then maybe i’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

your tongue flicks out hesitantly, and he groans, his thumb pressing against your chin as he watches you.

“fuck, you’re filthy,” he mutters, slipping his fingers back into your mouth. “and you’ll do anything i tell you, won’t you?”

you nod, too far gone to argue, your tongue swirling around his fingers as he presses his knee between your thighs, keeping you spread for him.

“such a quick learner,” mattheo praises, withdrawing his hand to grip your waist, flipping you onto your stomach in one swift motion. “hands on the headboard.”

you obey, your breath catching as he presses his cock against you, the blunt head dragging through your wetness. fuck, when did he even take his pants off?

“you want it?” he asks, voice thick with condescension, teasing you with shallow thrusts. “say it. tell me who you belong to.”

“you,” you gasp, your fingers curling around the headboard as you push back against him. “i belong to you.”

“damn right you do,” he growls, slamming into you with one brutal thrust that knocks the air from your lungs.

his hand snakes around to wrap lightly around your throat, not squeezing—just enough to remind you who’s in control. his other hand cracks down on your ass, hard enough to make you yelp.

“quiet,” mattheo snarls. “you don’t want the boy tribute hearing you from his room, do you? or should i let him see how fucking pretty you look when you’re being ruined?”

your walls clench around him at his words, and he laughs, dark and breathless.

“oh, you like that,” he says, his grip tightening around your throat, his hips snapping harder, faster. “filthy little thing. so eager to be fucked by your mentor.”

the tension coils tight in your core, your body trembling as you teeter on the edge.

“don’t you dare cum yet,” mattheo warns, his voice a low snarl. “not until i say.”

“i can’t,” you sob, your head dropping back onto his shoulder. “please, i can’t—”

“yes, you can.” his teeth sink into your neck, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark. “you’ll wait. and if you don’t, i’ll pull out and make you finish yourself while i watch.”

the threat makes your thighs shake, your breath hitching as you claw at the headboard, holding on for dear life. mattheo’s hand slips between your legs, his fingers rubbing your clit in quick, rough circles.

“cum for me,” he finally growls, his voice thick with need. “now.”

your orgasm rips through you, white-hot and all-consuming, your body clenching around him as you scream his name. mattheo’s thrusts grow erratic, his breath ragged as he follows, spilling inside you with a low, guttural curse.

he stays buried inside you, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. for a moment, there’s only the sound of your ragged breathing, the weight of him holding you down.

“good girl,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “took it so well. didn’t even break.”

m.list

#mentor!mattheo #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle x fem!reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #harry potter #slytherin #benjamin wadsworth #smut #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle drabble #drabble #— ; 𝐥𝐞𝐨’𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 🎨 ྀི

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puppym3 · 5 months ago

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felix x reader ─── two-time thing

synopsis - after everything that happened last time, you couldn't bare to see him face-to-face, but after restless nights and finding him in your dreams, you made it to his bed.

wc: 9.1k

silly tags: MDNI! 18+, bsf!felix, afab!reader, definitely pining, angst, questionable dreams, idiots to (eventually) lovers, realization of feelings, awkwardness, other members appear, pt 3 will come!!, pt 1 -> here - PT 3 -> here

MDNI!! smut warnings under cut!!

WARNINGS: smut, lots of kissing, lowkey dry-humping, grinding, masturbation (m. rec), hair pulling, handjob, a lot of sounds are made

Fight or flight? No doubt you chose flight.

You weren't sure how long you stayed in your room, but the tension was so thick throughout the entire house that you couldn't dare to step out of your comfort place.

Embarrassment clung to your skin like a second layer, suffocating and unrelenting. You, too mortified to face reality, had trapped yourself in your room.

Your friends had noticed, of course. You couldn’t completely cut yourself off without them catching on, especially when meals became a problem. The reliance on others for basic needs was humiliating, but the thought of stepping outside your self-imposed prison made your stomach churn.

Chan, ever the nurturing friend, complied without question at first, bringing you food with a furrowed brow and soft reminders. “You’re gonna get sick if you stay in here,” he’d say gently, setting the plate on your desk before retreating without prying too much- though the concern in his eyes lingered long after he left.

Lee Know, on the other hand, was less forgiving. When you’d sheepishly asked him through text for a favor, he left you on read without a single reply. The message was clear: get your act together.

Then there were Seungmin and Han. Unlike the others, they weren’t content to just drop off food and go. Seungmin, sharp-eyed and intuitive, had crossed his arms and leaned against your doorframe one afternoon, his voice tinged with amusement but lined with curiosity. “You wanna tell me what’s really going on?” he’d asked, his tone deceptively casual. When you shook your head, he’d sighed dramatically. “You’re lucky I’m nice.”

Han was less subtle. He’d plopped down outside your door once, knocking rhythmically until you opened up just a crack. “C’mon,” he coaxed, grinning mischievously. “Whatever happened can’t be that bad. Spill it.” You’d slammed the door in his face before he could say more, your face burning.

But tonight was different.

"So you like pulling hair, hm?" A deep voice drawled, the words barely a whisper before the tug on your hair sent a jolt through your entire body.

Your knees hit the floor, the sharp sting of the impact radiating through your legs, but it was nothing compared to the scorching heat that coursed through your veins. Felix stood above you, his dark eyes gleaming with an amusement that made your pulse quicken. His hand remained in your hair, pulling your head back with an ease that made you feel entirely at his mercy.

"Tell me, is that all you want from me?" His voice was low, teasing, almost dangerous. The question lingered in the air, thick and charged, as if daring you to admit something you weren’t sure you wanted to say.

You wanted to answer, wanted to insist that wasn’t the case at all. You couldn’t think like this about Felix. He was your best friend. He always had been. But the words stuck in your throat, none of the words formed in your head being able to come out. Instead, a single, breathless "Yes" escaped, and it felt like your whole world tilted.

"If I’d known sooner," Felix murmured, his breath ghosting against your ear, "I would've just given you what you wanted right away. Saved us both the trouble, huh?"

Heat flushed your skin. Shame mixed with something more dangerous, as his words settled into your chest like a weight. The rough pull on your hair made your breath catch. He didn’t have to speak again for you to understand the power he wielded over you in that moment.

"You thought you could hide it, didn’t you? Pervert."

The word hit like a slap, but it only stoked the fire burning deep inside you, a dangerous mixture of arousal and guilt. The feeling was intoxicating, suffocating, leaving you dizzy.

Your eyes flew open, your body jerking awake with a gasp as if you'd just surfaced from deep water. The darkness of your room enveloped you, but it did little to soothe the wild thrum in your chest. Your skin was sticky with sweat, the sheets clinging to you in uncomfortable heat.

Felix’s voice lingered in your ears, a faint whisper that refused to leave you. The echo of his touch, his hand in your hair, was still present, the warmth of it searing your scalp and making your body ache in places you didn’t want to acknowledge.

What the hell?

Your heart hammered in your chest, too fast, too loud. You couldn’t get his words out of your head: Pervert. The way he had looked down at you, amused, like he knew exactly what you were feeling. The power, the control. It was all wrong, and yet the heat between your legs told a different story.

"God," you whispered hoarsely, your body betraying you as you squeezed your thighs together, trying in vain to will the ache away. It was irrational, unwanted, but you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop thinking about Felix. Your best friend.

You shifted in the bed, throwing an arm over your face in a feeble attempt to block it all out. This was all your mind playing tricks on you. Your subconscious messing with you because of that stupid night, the one when you'd been curled up against him, your fingers brushing through his hair absently. The sound he made when you tugged at the strands had been so soft, so unexpected, that it had sent a bolt of heat straight to your core.

You hadn’t meant to pull his hair. You hadn’t meant to like it. You hadn’t meant for anything that followed to happen, either. But there was only so long you could tell yourself it was a mistake before it stopped feeling like one.

That night. That night when you’d asked- no, pleaded with him to let you watch. It had been an accident, a slip of the tongue, a momentary lapse in judgment. But it wasn’t just a mistake.

It wasn’t just one.

That was the part that made your chest tight with panic, the feeling that it had already happened once, and now you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

No. You wouldn’t let yourself do this again. You couldn’t.

It was just a dream, you repeated aloud, as if saying the words would make them true. Just a dream.

But even as the words left your lips, you knew they didn’t make sense. The ache, the heat, the guilt, they were real, and they felt dangerously real.

Just a dream.

You tried. You really did.

You buried yourself under your blankets, squeezed your eyes shut, and willed your mind to drift anywhere but back to him- to Felix’s voice, his touch, the ghost of his breath against your skin. But the harder you tried to suppress it, the more it clawed its way to the surface, relentless and consuming.

Sleep wouldn’t come. It never did on nights like this.

You rolled onto your side, gripping the sheets in frustration, your heart still unsteady. The dreams had unsettled you in ways you weren’t ready to confront. It wasn’t just the weight of his words, the way they had sent a shiver down your spine, it was everything else. The longing. The loss. The quiet, aching realization that you missed him.

Not just his touch, not just the confusing way your body had responded to him in your dream. You missed him.

His laugh would make his eyes sparkle, and always broke through the heaviest of silences. The way he clung to you without hesitation, throwing his arms around your shoulders or draping himself over you like it was second nature. You used to roll your eyes, shove him off playfully, but now? Now you felt cold without the weight of him, without the warmth of his presence filling the space beside you.

And you’d been avoiding him.

You’d kept your distance, hoping that space would clear your head, but it only made it worse. The days felt empty without his voice in them, without his brightness cutting through your usual gloom. Now everything seemed unbearably quiet.

A choked sound slipped past your lips before you even realized you were crying.

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks, and you curled into yourself, gripping the pillow like it could somehow fill the space Felix left behind. You felt stupid. Weak. But no matter how hard you tried to push the feeling down, it only swelled, filling your chest with a pressure you couldn’t escape.

You missed him. You missed him so much it hurt.

You hated this. You hated yourself for feeling this way, for wanting him so badly when you weren’t even sure what it was you wanted. For running away when all you really wanted to do was run straight to him.

Why couldn't you have just said nothing that day? Why did you have to make a mess of things and then disappear? Why did you have to ruin everything with a few stupid words?

"Lixie..."

Your voice sounded foreign to your own ears, the words a strained, choked whisper.

"I miss you."

The next morning, the sky was overcast, threatening rain. A dull grey had settled over the world, the clouds hanging low in the sky, the air heavy and damp.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You were exhausted, having barely slept a wink, and the last thing you wanted to do was get up.

But there was a nagging sense of guilt, a persistent feeling that you should at least try. So, with great effort, you dragged yourself out of bed.

The house was quiet, the silence broken only by the distant patter of rain against the window. The kitchen was empty, the countertop clean and bare, as if nobody had touched it.

You stood in the empty kitchen, fingers ghosting over the cold countertop. The house was eerily still. No clatter of dishes, no muffled voices from the other rooms, no muffled music playing through the walls, nothing.

Felix wasn’t here.

Your feet moved before your mind caught up.

The hallway was dim, the soft patter of rain against the windows the only sound accompanying you as you stopped in front of his door. It was cracked open, just enough for you to push it the rest of the way without much effort.

The moment you stepped inside, his scent wrapped around you.

Warm, familiar, Felix.

A mix of something subtly sweet; maybe vanilla, and the faint trace of his cologne. It was so distinctly him that your chest tightened painfully, a strange feeling simmering under your skin.

Your gaze drifted over the room, taking in the familiar chaos. His desk was cluttered, papers scattered haphazardly, some crumpled at the edges like he’d been frustrated while working. His PC sat idle, a dark screen reflecting the dim light filtering in through the rain-streaked window.

And your eyes roamed to the other side, you saw them.

An array of different kinds of photos all together on his desk.

Your breath caught as you stepped closer, fingers hesitantly brushing over the small collection of photos.

It was you. Both of you.

Photos you don't even remember taking, one of you and him dressed for a formal night, a photo strip you guys took at a mall together, a picture of you sleeping on him.

He had kept these.

You swallowed hard, a wave of something you didn’t know how to name crashing over you. You didn't know what this meant right now, sure, it was normal to keep photos of your friends, but so close to his desk? A place he spends a lot of his time at?

Slowly, you turned away from the desk, eyes landing on his bed. The blanket on his mattress was messy, like he’d left in a hurry, and the sight of them made your stomach twist.

You shouldn’t. And you knew you shouldn’t.

But the weight of everything was too much, the pull of him too strong. Before you could second-guess yourself, you were crawling into his bed, sinking into the warmth of his space, his scent enveloping you completely.

Had he been sleeping well? Hopefully, he had some peace at night compared to you.

Or did he spend his nights thinking of you as well? Did he miss you too?

Did he stare at your photos until his eyes started to hurt, and then close them, wishing he could fall asleep and see you instead of the back of his eyelids?

Was it wrong to imagine him like this? To think about him the same way he had thought about you?

You weren’t sure. Maybe, probably, definitely.

But in the safety of his room, surrounded by his scent, the thought was too tempting to ignore.

Felix was your best friend. He had been since forever. And yet, you couldn’t help but think about him like this. The way he had looked at you, the way his fingers had curled around your chin, his gaze focused on you. The way his breath had hitched, the way he had pulled his lower lip between his teeth. The way his cheeks flushed.

He was beautiful. You knew that, you always had, but the thought never felt this... dangerous.

And he had looked at you. Just, only at you.

Like you were the only thing he could see. Like you were the only thing that mattered. Like he wanted to devour you, and it scared the shit out of you.

It was stupid. Irrational.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sheets, his scent overwhelming you in the best and worst way possible. It made your skin burn, your stomach twist, your mind spiral into places you shouldn’t let it go.

It wasn’t just missing him anymore.

It was wanting him.

The weight of it pressed down on you, suffocating in its intensity. You squeezed your eyes shut, biting down on your lip, desperately trying to will the feeling away. But it was useless.

You could still feel the ghost of his touch, the way his fingers had brushed against your skin, the way he had looked at you, really looked at you. Not as a friend. Not as someone he’d known forever. But as something else. Something more.

The memory of it sent a shiver down your spine.

Your thighs pressed together involuntarily, but it only made things worse. The ache was unbearable, sharp and all-consuming. Your body was betraying you, responding to something you weren’t ready to admit to yourself.

You let out a shaky breath, barely a whimper, and before you could stop it, a sob ripped through your chest.

Tears burned hot as they slid down your cheeks, frustration and guilt tangling into something unbearable. What was wrong with you? Why were you like this? Why did you have to ruin everything by feeling this way?

Felix was your best friend. Your best friend.

And yet, here you were, crying into his pillow because you wanted him so badly it hurt.

The sound of the door creaking open barely registered at first.

"Y/N?"

You froze.

The sound of Felix’s voice cut through the haze of your emotions like a blade, sharp and inescapable. It shouldn’t have been this way. You shouldn’t be in his bed, gripping his sheets like they were the only thing tethering you to the world. You shouldn’t be crying over him, missing him so desperately that it physically hurt.

You shouldn’t want him.

But you did.

And now, standing at the foot of the bed, Felix was looking at you, really looking at you, his damp hair from the rain clinging to his forehead, his lips slightly parted in shock. His eyes, warm and deep, flickered with too many emotions to decipher.

“Shit,” he breathed.

His voice was unsteady, like he wasn’t sure what to say, like he was trying to understand why you were here, curled up in his sheets, looking at him like he was the only thing keeping you from shattering completely.

He said your name again, softer this time, laced with concern.

You forced yourself to sit up, your fingers trembling as you swiped at your tear-streaked cheeks. The weight of his stare was suffocating. What are you even supposed to say? That you missed him? That you had spent nights aching for him, haunted by the way he used to fit into your life, into your space, into you?

You swallowed hard, voice barely a whisper. "Sorry."

Felix’s brows furrowed. That was the last thing he expected you to say.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was quiet, but there was something else beneath it. Something careful. Something dangerous.

You hesitated. “I… I was looking for you.”

It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Felix’s expression softened, his sharp features easing into something more familiar, something more him. He took a step closer, then another, hesitance flickering in his eyes like he was afraid you might bolt.

You didn’t.

Instead, you stayed still as he slowly, cautiously, sat down on the edge of the bed beside you.

The space between you was barely there, just inches separating your leg from his, the warmth of him reaching you before his touch did. The tension was suffocating, thick enough to drown in. It was the closest you had been to him in weeks, and the reality of it sent your pulse into a dizzying rhythm.

"Y/N…"

The way he said your name; gentle, almost pleading, made something inside you splinter.

He turned his body toward you, leaning in slightly, his voice softer than the rain against the window. “Are you okay?”

You wished he hadn’t asked.

The moment the words left his lips, something inside you gave way, cracking under the weight of everything you’d been holding back.

You squeezed your eyes shut, but it was useless. The flood was already coming.

A choked sob tore from your throat, your body betraying you as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. You shook your head, barely able to breathe through the tightness in your chest.

“No,” you whispered, broken and raw.

And then Felix moved. No hesitation as he reached for you, pulling you against him in one fluid motion, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt effortless. Like this is where you were meant to be.

His warmth consumed you instantly, the steady rise and fall of his chest grounding you even as your own breath came out uneven and shaky. He smelled like rain and something distinctly him, vanilla, musk, and home, it made your head spin.

You clung to him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie like he might disappear if you let go. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, his skin warm against your cheek. The scent of him, the weight of his arms around you, it was everything you had missed, everything you had craved but refused to admit.

Felix let out a breath against your hair, his grip tightening, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles against your back. But you could feel it, the way his heartbeat wasn’t steady, the way his own breath was just slightly uneven.

Was he feeling this too?

Was this affecting him the way it was breaking you apart?

"Lix…" Your voice came out in a desperate whisper, muffled against his skin.

His arms flexed around you, just for a second.

"Don't-" he sighed, his tone heavy with something you couldn't quite place, "-don't say anything now."

He sounded tired, almost resigned, like he had finally come to terms with something he couldn't fight.

"I want to be selfish for a moment," he said quietly, his words sending a shiver down your spine, "just for a little while."

Your heart thudded against your ribs, too fast, too loud, a painful reminder that this was real. That he was holding you, that he was whispering against your hair, that he was breathing in your scent, and god, this wasn't supposed to be this way.

It wasn't supposed to be this painful.

You closed your eyes, willing yourself not to let more tears fall, not now, not when you were already clinging to him like a lifeline.

You weren't sure how long the two of you stayed like that, tangled in each other's arms, his hands tracing patterns against your back.

The rain continued to fall, a soft patter against the windows. The faint glow of the sky had shifted, the grey giving way to a warm orange hue as the sun dipped below the horizon. You weren't quite sure what happened in that time, the exhaustion finally kept up to you and the feeling in his arms was too good, and soon, sleep was pulling you under.

But just before the darkness took over, Felix spoke again, so quietly you could barely hear it, his breath ghosting against the shell of your ear.

"I missed you, too."

The first thing you registered upon waking was warmth.

The steady rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek lulling you into a state of half-consciousness. For a moment, you forgot where you were, caught in the hazy in-between of dreams and reality. Then, the scent of him filled your lungs, the slow, even heartbeat under your palm grounding you, and it all came rushing back.

You were in his bed.

Your breath hitched as the realization settled. He was still right next to you, you were still curled into him, his arms still loosely draped around you like he had never let go.

Maybe he hadn’t.

You barely dared to move, afraid of shattering whatever fragile moment this was. But the ache in your chest, the longing you had buried so deep, was unbearable. You wanted- no, needed to be closer. Just a little more.

Slowly, carefully, you shifted, nuzzling deeper into the crook of his neck, your nose brushing against his collarbone. His scent surrounded you, overwhelming and intoxicating, a cruel reminder of everything you had missed. Your fingers hesitated for only a second before they moved, ghosting along the hem of his hoodie before slipping underneath, meeting the warmth of his skin.

You could feel how he tensed under you.

It was barely perceptible, just the smallest hitch in his breath, the subtle tightening of his fingers against your waist. If you weren’t pressed against him, you might’ve missed it.

But you didn’t.

You stayed still for a moment, waiting. His breathing remained steady, deceptively even, as if he were still asleep. But you knew better. You knew him. The way his fingers twitched, the way his chest rose just a little too sharply, the way his lips were parted just so... it was all too careful.

Felix was awake.

But now, you couldn't afford to care. Your fingers, still under his hoodie, traced the bare skin of his stomach, featherlight, barely there. The muscles beneath your touch tensed slightly, his breath faltering for half a second before evening out again.

He was pretending.

You swallowed back a laugh, feeling emboldened by the way his body reacted despite his act. Slowly, you tilted your head up, your lips barely grazing the line of his jaw, soft and unintentional, or at least, that’s how you wanted it to seem. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallowed breath, and the smallest noise, something between a sigh and a hum, escaped his throat.

That was all the confirmation you needed.

“Felix,” you murmured against his skin, your voice low and sweet, testing, teasing.

His grip on your waist tightened, a fraction too firm, and this time, he didn’t bother to hide the way he inhaled sharply.

You smiled against his jaw. “Are you asleep?”

Nothing.

No response.

Just silence and the pounding of both your hearts in the space between you.

Your lips ghosted down, soft and unhurried, tracing the line of his throat. You could feel his pulse hammering beneath his skin, fast and uneven, betraying him in a way his stillness couldn’t. Your hand slid higher under his hoodie, your fingertips brushing over the warm planes of his abdomen, teasing along the defined lines.

Then, just as your lips met the sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder, Felix finally broke.

A sharp inhale, a barely contained shudder, and then—

“Y/N.”

His voice was rough, breathless, like he had been holding it back for too long.

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, and he was staring back at you, heavy-lidded, filled with something unreadable yet entirely unmistakable. His lips were parted slightly, his breath uneven, and the way he was looking at you sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt him shift, his hand sliding up your back, his fingers grazing your skin beneath your shirt. His touch was deliberate, careful, like he was grounding himself. Or maybe grounding you.

“You knew,” you accused, voice barely above a whisper.

Felix’s lips curved into something dangerously close to a smirk, but there was something softer beneath it, something hesitant.

“Of course I knew,” he murmured, his thumb stroking absent patterns against your hip. “You’re not subtle.”

Heat curled low in your stomach, and you hated how easily he could turn the tables with just a look, a touch, a word.

His eyes flickered to your lips.

Your breath caught.

Then, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it, Felix whispered, “What are you doing?”

Your fingers curled against his chest, gripping his hoodie as if that would steady you. You didn’t have an answer. Or maybe, you had too many.

But right now, in this moment, none of them mattered.

Because all you could think about was how close he was, how his hand was splayed against your skin, how his lips were right there, and how neither of you seemed willing to pull away.

How easy it would be to just lean in.

Your breath trembled, shaky and desperate, as you leaned in, just enough for your lips to graze his, barely a whisper of a touch. But it was enough. The moment they made contact, a sharp, electric shiver shot down your spine, spreading heat through your entire body. Felix’s breath hitched, and for a fleeting second, he stayed still, holding his breath, as if unsure how to respond.

But the moment you started to pull back, his fingers dug into your hip, pulling you back toward him with a quiet urgency that sent your heart pounding. His lips parted, and the sound that escaped him; a relieved sigh, broke you completely. It was so raw, so needy, and it undid you in ways you hadn’t expected.

You couldn’t stop yourself. Your fingers found their way into his hair again, tugging gently, guiding him closer as you let him pull you in. The soft strands slipped through your fingers, and you could hear him, so close to you, making those quiet, broken, desperate sounds that made everything inside you burn. The heat in your stomach twisted, a knot of need that only seemed to grow tighter as his hand slid higher along your back, pulling you flush against him, pressing you harder into him like he couldn’t get enough.

The second kiss wasn’t tentative. It was hungry. A deep, urgent collision of lips and tongues, slow but with a hunger that left you both breathless. His lips moved against yours, teasing and tasting, savoring. When you sighed into him, something broke, both of you, releasing any last semblance of restraint.

His grip on you tightened, turning desperate, pulling you impossibly closer. His lips parted against yours, moving over you with an intensity that sent a wave of heat crashing over you. You moaned quietly, fingers framing his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks before your hands tangled deeper into his hair, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, to taste him, to lose yourself in him.

A low sound rumbled in his chest, raw and broken, as he exhaled shakily against your lips. His fingers slipped under your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending waves of fire over your skin as they traced the curve of your spine, leaving a trail of heated promises. You could feel him trembling beneath you, his body taut, his breath a shallow, uneven rhythm. He was barely holding back.

“Y/N,” he rasped, and the way he said your name; like it was the only tether keeping him grounded, sent a shiver straight through you.

Your breath came in sharp, uneven pulls, your mind spinning as you forced yourself to break away. Your forehead pressed against his, and for a brief moment, you tried to gather your thoughts, but the haze of heat clouded your mind, leaving nothing but need, nothing but him.

What the hell were you doing?

Felix was your best friend. Your sweet, goofy, sunshine of a best friend. But right now, there was nothing sweet or goofy about the way he looked at you.

You were now- somehow, straddling his lap, your fingers tangled in his hair, your lips swollen from his kisses. And Felix- Felix looked absolutely wrecked. His pupils were blown wide, his breath coming in shallow, uneven pants as he stared at you like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming. His hoodie had slipped off one shoulder, exposing smooth skin, flushed with heat, and the sight of him like this; disheveled, desperate, waiting, had your stomach twisting with pure, aching want.

“Fuck.” The curse slipped out before you could stop it, your voice shaking with everything you were feeling. Because you knew.

You weren’t stopping.

His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and that was it. That was all it took for the last fraying thread of restraint to snap.

You crashed into him, and he met you with just as much desperation.

The kiss was nothing like before. It was raw, all heat and hunger, lips moving together in a mess of gasps and teeth and need. His hands were on you in an instant, gripping your waist, sliding up beneath your shirt, fingers splayed across your back like he needed to feel every inch of your skin against his.

You gasped into his mouth, and the sound made him shudder beneath you, his nails pressing into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. The friction sent a dizzying wave of heat through you, making your stomach tighten, making you crave more, more, more.

Your hands roamed, desperate to touch him, to make him fall apart beneath you. You dragged your nails lightly down his scalp, and the noise that left his lips; low, needy, wrecked, shot straight through you, pooling molten heat between your legs.

“Fuck, Felix,” you breathed against his lips, your voice barely a whisper, but he heard it. You knew he did, because he groaned, his hands gripping your waist harder, grinding up into you without thinking. The feeling of him beneath you, warm and hard and completely lost in you, sent a sharp thrill through your veins.

Your lips parted, and he took the opportunity, his tongue sliding against yours, deep and slow, tasting, savoring. The way he kissed you; like he was drowning in it, in you, had you whimpering into his mouth, had your fingers fisting his hoodie, holding on for dear life.

“Shit-” He pulled back just enough to breathe, but his forehead was still pressed against yours, his lips hovering over yours like he couldn’t bear to be too far away. His voice was hoarse, ruined, his breath warm and heavy against your mouth. “Y/N…”

He couldn't seem to say anything else.

You swallowed, the ache between your legs growing more insistent by the second. Your body was burning, aching for him, and the fact that he was so hard beneath you, grinding up into you without hesitation, only made it worse.

You could feel the way his body tensed, the way his hips moved against yours, slow, experimental. His breaths were coming out in shallow pants, his lips parted, and his expression... he looked completely and utterly wrecked.

Your heart stuttered as it hit you all at once.

This was why you had kept him at a distance, why you had refused to let yourself linger too long in the warmth of his presence, why you had forced yourself to ignore every stolen glance, every lingering touch.

The realization crashed into you, knocking the air from your lungs.

You liked him.

Not just as your best friend. Not just in the way you always told yourself was innocent. No, this was something deeper, something that had been simmering beneath the surface for longer than you cared to admit. And now, with him beneath you, his lips swollen, his breath ragged, his body trembling with want, you couldn’t deny it anymore.

Felix was wrecked. But so were you.

A shaky exhale fell from your lips. You didn't want to think. Not now, not when everything was falling apart. All you wanted, all you could think about, was him.

Felix was unraveling beneath you. And you, God, you weren’t any better.

His hands trembled against your skin, his grip on you tight, unrelenting, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. His chest rose and fell in uneven, ragged breaths, his swollen lips parted, so aching.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, it felt like your heart was working overtime—what you were feeling in other places wasn't any better. And yet, when you shifted in his lap, when you rolled your hips against him, just to see, just to feel, Felix gasped, his head tipping back, a low moan falling from his lips.

“Y/N-” His voice wavered, his fingers digging into your waist. “Fuck, don’t-”

He cut himself off with a shuddering breath, his body tensing, his eyes screwing shut. You feel him trembling beneath you as you did it again, slower this time, you could feel your clothed core rub against the length of him with an unhurried, intoxicating friction. It caused your swollen clit to drag deliciously against the fabric of both of your clothes, causing you to throw your head back.

His hands flew to your thighs, gripping hard, as if to steady himself. A sound tore from his throat, breathless and wrecked, somewhere between a groan and a whimper, so desperate it made your entire body burn. So deep that it brought a chill up and down each vertebra of your spine.

“Shit-” His fingers flexed against your skin, his breathing erratic. “I can’t- I can’t fucking think when you do that.”

The confession sent a heady rush through you, and made something dark and hungry curl in your stomach. You wanted more. You wanted to hear him fall apart even more. You leaned in, lips ghosting over his jaw, down the column of his throat, feeling the way his pulse pounded beneath your mouth.

A soft whine left his lips, his hips jerking up into yours without warning, and the feeling, the friction, had you moaning softly into his skin. His fingers gripped your thighs, digging into the soft flesh, and the slight sting, the thought of his grip leaving a mark had heat pooling low in your stomach.

A sharp knock at the door sent a jolt through both of you, the sound cutting through the thick haze of heat that had settled in the room.

“Felix?”

Chan’s voice was muffled through the wood, but it was clear, steady, completely unaware of the way you and Felix were currently tangled together, breathless and trembling.

Felix went rigid beneath you, fingers twitching against your thighs before they fell away entirely, like he’d just realized where they were. His wide, dazed eyes snapped up to yours, his expression shifting from desperate hunger to sheer panic in a matter of seconds.

You barely had time to process the loss of his touch before Chan spoke again.

“Have you seen Y/N?” A pause. “She wasn’t in her room when I checked, and I- oh, uh, I brought breakfast for everyone.”

Felix made a choked sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between a cough and a quiet curse.

Your stomach dropped.

Your face burned, your breath still coming in short, uneven pulls as reality came crashing back down on you.

Felix looked just as wrecked, just as breathless, his chest still heaving beneath you, lips swollen and parted like he was still stuck somewhere between the moment you’d shared and the one you were currently panicking through.

You had to move. You had to get up, act normal, open the door, something-

But then you shifted, and the second you felt the hard press of him against you, felt the way your own body was still burning from the friction of before, you realized something else entirely.

You couldn’t leave like this.

Felix must have come to the same realization at the same time, because his hands shot out, gripping your waist, holding you still before you could make it worse. His jaw clenched, his eyes screwing shut as he inhaled sharply through his nose, trying- failing to steady himself.

A quiet curse slipped from his lips.

You swallowed thickly, your heart hammering as Chan’s voice rang out again, a little more hesitant this time.

“Felix?”

Felix’s throat bobbed, his grip on you tightening for a fleeting moment before he forced himself to speak, voice hoarse and uneven.

“Uhm- yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”

There was a pause.

“…Are you okay?”

Felix glanced at you, but you felt like you were on fire.

“Yeah!” He cleared his throat, scrambling for composure, but the breathless edge to his voice betrayed him immediately.

Felix’s grip on your waist tightened, as if desperately begging you not to move.

Chan hummed on the other side of the door, completely oblivious. “Alright, well, hurry up and come eat. I got enough for everyone. And please- please," he paused for a moment, trying to find the right words, "just call Y/N, it's not good for either of you to keep fighting.”

A beat of silence. Then-

The sound of retreating footsteps.

You both exhaled at the same time.

It took a second for the tension to shift, for the weight of what had just happened to sink in.

And then-

Felix groaned, dropping his head back against his pillow, running a hand over his face. “Oh my God.”

You swallowed, staring at him, your entire body still burning from the inside out.

He was still hard beneath you.

And you- well, you weren’t exactly in a better state.

You licked your lips, nerves twisting in your stomach as you tried to force yourself to move, to think, to figure out how you were supposed to get out of this mess without making it even worse.

Felix beat you to it.

“We can’t leave like this.” His voice was low, strained.

You nodded, heat creeping up your neck. “I know.”

A pause.

His throat bobbed. “I-” He hesitated, his fingers twitching against your waist like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “I can- figure something out. Just- just give me a second.”

He was trying so hard to be responsible about this, to be rational, to get through this without making it worse.

But your mind was still spinning from before, still drowning in the memory of his body beneath yours, the sounds he had made, the way he had looked at you like he couldn’t think about anything else.

And maybe that was why the next words slipped out before you could stop them.

“I can take care of it.”

Silence.

Felix froze.

Your stomach twisted at the way his breath hitched, at the way his fingers tightened against your skin like he wasn’t sure he had heard you correctly.

His eyes found yours, searching, disbelieving.

“…What?”

You swallowed, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin. “Just- just let me, please.”

Something flickered across his expression, something hesitant and utterly wrecked. You could see the thoughts racing through his mind, the questions, the uncertainty, the sheer disbelief at what you had just suggested.

But when he spoke, his voice was quieter this time, more vulnerable.

“But..." he swallowed, his eyes searching your face, "you won’t run away after?”

You paused, something in his voice making your chest ache.

How could he think you would do that? After everything?

But then again, hadn't you pushed him away first? Didn't he have every right to think something like that from you?

Guilt simmered in your chest, you couldn't run this time.

"No, I won’t run," you said softly.

Felix held your gaze, and for a brief moment, it seemed like he was trying to figure out if you meant it.

"J- Just this once... then..?" His voice wavered, unsure, hesitant, but you could tell how much he wanted this. How much he had been waiting for this.

Just this once?

You don't know why, but even though you've heard those words before, this time they left a sharp sting in your chest.

You couldn't tell if it was guilt or not. Maybe it was the idea that he just saw this as a one-time thing. Or I guess, two-time thing now.

You shook the thoughts away, letting out a deep breath as you slowly got off of him, moving into a spot in between his legs and crouching down, and his head raises at the sudden change in position.

You don't have much experience when it comes to giving handjobs, so you were just going to follow what he did last time with the addition of a few things that you researched yourself. You had already seen him do it up close, the way his fingers tightened around the base of his shaft before sliding upwards in a slow movement. He had taken his time with himself, drawing it out and keeping it steady, the movements practiced and sure.

His breathing grew a little more ragged when he realized where this was heading. He started to sit up, his expression wary, a protest rising to his lips. But the moment his hand dropped to cover himself, your fingers found his. You could feel them twitching.

He fell still.

Your chest tightened.

His lips parted, a small gasp escaping, eyes fluttering closed as you let your hand hesitantly outline the trace of his length, replacing his hand. Your hand slid upwards, mimicking what his other hand did.

You didn't look up, didn't dare meet his eyes. But you could feel the weight of his gaze.

It's the same, yet different. This time you are touching him, it's you making him feel that way, the soft gasps falling from his lips, the way he's biting back a moan, it's because of you. You try to copy the things you saw him do, tightening your grip just enough and letting the pressure slide slowly upwards. Your heart skips at the sound of Felix's breath stuttering, the way his muscles tense, the way his fingers dig into his thighs, holding on, struggling not to react too much.

His lips were parted, his breaths coming in shallow, uneven pulls as your hand moved against his clothed length in an unhurried, almost lazy pace. You kept your eyes down, unable to bear seeing what was in his eyes. Unable to bear seeing the look you'd put on his face.

Felix wasn't unaffected either. You could feel the tension in his muscles, feel the way his thighs twitched when you stroked his cock through his pants, the way he gasped and whimpered softly. You were suddenly very aware of just how close you were, your fingers moving beneath him, brushing his own every few moments as he moved. The air in the room had changed, shifted.

You were acutely aware of every sound, every hitch of breath, every shaky exhale, of the heat coming from his skin and the scent of his skin so close, and it was like every one of your senses had sharpened.

"Uhm..." you hestitate, wondering how to ask without embarrassing yourself too much, "can- can I?" You asked shyly, gesturing to his pants and hoping he'd get the idea, and when he doesn't respond for a while you looked up to see his face filled with confusion.

You exhaled, feeling your cheeks burn as you finally forced yourself to meet his eyes, trying not to stare too long at his swollen lips, his mussed hair, at how utterly disheveled he looked, and tried to make your voice more clear, "can I touch you... like- without... the pants?"

His throat bobbed, his Adam's apple dipping before his lips parted to say something, but it took him a while before he finally managed to let out a choked sound. "O- Oh-" his voice faltered, cracking under pressure. He took in a shuddering breath, nodding hesitantly. "Y- Yeah- Yeah, okay."

You swallowed, shifting in your spot between his legs as your hands went down to tug at his waistband, letting your knuckles brush against his skin as you pulled his pants lower, feeling a flutter of heat low in your stomach.

He was watching you with half-lidded eyes, his gaze dark and unreadable. His breath was coming in short, uneven pulls as he leaned back, bracing himself against his hands. You couldn't help but glance at his chest, watching it rise and fall with every unsteady breath. He looked... vulnerable, almost soft in the dim light of his bedroom, like this, in a way he never usually did.

His jaw was still clenched tight, and he swallowed, the bobbing motion of his throat drawing your eye for a moment before you dragged your gaze back down.

Your fingers trailed along his waist, feeling his muscles tense under your touch as you finally pulled his pants down enough, freeing him from the restraints of his clothes.

He was aching, and hard, the tip swollen and pink. Your stomach tightened at the sight of him, at the memory of last time and everything you felt then.

You started slow, like he did. Letting your palm glide smoothly over his tip, his hips stuttering into the air at the contact, letting out a broken noise, and when you didn't move your hand any further, he let out a breath. His body was wound up like a coil, every muscle taut and rigid, waiting for your next move.

Your grip tightened, stroking upwards in a slow movement that drew a low groan from deep within his throat. He gasped, his chest heaving, his breaths ragged and uneven.

"God- fuck, you-" he let out another strangled moan, his voice strained and raw.

His hips rocked into the air, thrusting up to meet your palm, his movements needy and desperate. The sound of him panting beneath you was sending shivers down your spine, sending heat coursing through you like electricity.

He was reacting way more than last time, every touch, every brush of your skin against his sending him into a spiral of pleasure. It was intoxicating, watching him lose himself under your hands, hearing him gasp and whine, his moans and groans like music to your ears, knowing you're the one doing this to him, to make him lose control, to fall apart at your fingertips, knowing how much power you had over him at that moment.

The knowledge left you lightheaded, dizzy with a rush of heady power as you sped up your hand just slightly. He was completely and utterly lost, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly, his fingers twisting in the sheets as he struggled to breathe, to hold himself together. You felt the tension in his thighs, heard the sharp hiss that escaped through clenched teeth, felt the tremors running through him.

You felt your clit pulse, the sore feeling causing you to squeeze your thighs together. It felt so good. You could feel the wetness pooling between your thighs, soaking your underwear.

It wasn't long before he was teetering on the edge, his head thrown back against his pillow, eyes screwed shut, his chest heaving as he tried to hold himself together.

"Felix..?" you whispered, your voice trembling with desire, the sound of your name falling from his lips only serving to make you throb harder, the feeling between your thighs almost too much to handle.

"Yes-" his voice was raw and rough, broken as it was forced from his throat, a groan cutting through the silence, a desperate whimper escaping him as he finally let himself go. "Yes, I'm so fucking close-"

It didn't take long before he was shaking apart beneath your touch, a shuddering moan leaving his lips as his back arched, his hips bucking up into the air. He came undone with your name on his lips, his fingers twisting in the bed sheets. The way he sounded as he came was the most beautiful thing you've ever heard. His voice was hoarse and shaky as he whispered your name like a prayer, as he trembled and shook and let himself unravel under your touch.

He fell apart and came undone, spilling himself on his own stomach with your name on his lips. The sight made something warm and fuzzy pool in the pit of your stomach, something you'd never felt before, something you'd never let yourself feel. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, from the way he looked in that moment. It was so intense, so intimate. It felt so real and raw, and it hit you in a way you never expected it to.

Your gaze drifted lower, your heart stuttering at the sight of his mess, his stomach painted with white. You were transfixed by the sight, unable to stop staring even as he shuddered beneath you, gasping and trembling as the waves of pleasure slowly subsided. He collapsed back on the bed with a sigh, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His hair was plastered against his forehead, his face flushed and sweaty, but he looked so extremely hot nonetheless. His lips were swollen and parted as he stared at you with half-lidded eyes, completely blown from arousal, from how good you'd made him feel.

The sight had you aching for release. You bit back a groan as your cunt throbbed.

He watched you with glazed eyes as you leaned over and grabbed the towel you'd seen on the ground. You pressed it gently against his stomach to wipe him.

It's like he didn't care if you'd seen it or not, he was completely undone, boneless, his entire body still buzzing, still high from his release. He let out a soft hum when he felt you touch his stomach. He was so warm. He looked like a cat who got what it wanted.

Felix let out a content sigh as you wiped him down, his body loose and pliant beneath your touch. His head was still tilted back against the pillow, eyes heavy-lidded and glassy, but when you shifted to move away, he blinked up at you, something soft and almost hesitant in his gaze.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “I-” He swallowed, his fingers twitching where they rested by his sides. “I can help you, too.”

Your breath caught.

The air between you shifted again, his offer sending a rush of heat through you, settling low in your stomach. The way he looked at you, all earnest and drowsy and still so, so beautiful- it had you aching all over again.

"But-"

You hesitated, panic creeping in around the edges of your mind. It wasn’t that you didn’t want it. You did. But now that the haze was clearing, now that the heat of the moment was cooling just slightly, reality started creeping back in.

Too much time had passed.

You couldn’t still be in here when breakfast had already been announced.

You forced yourself to swallow down the nervous lump in your throat, shaking your head as you pulled away. “No, it’s fine. We should-” You cleared your throat, trying to sound as normal as possible. “We should clean up. Breakfast is waiting.”

Felix stilled for a second, his expression flickering- hurt, then understanding, then something else entirely.

He didn’t argue.

But you saw it- the way his face fell slightly, the way guilt settled in his features. Like he thought he’d done something wrong.

You reached out, squeezing his wrist briefly.

“It’s okay,” you murmured.

He nodded, but you could tell he wasn’t fully convinced.

Still, he got up, following your lead as you both cleaned yourselves up. You made sure to go first, slipping out of his room quickly so it wouldn’t look suspicious.

The moment you stepped into the dining area, a chorus of voices erupted around you.

“Oh my God, she lives.”

“Finally out of your room, huh?”

“You good? You were MIA for a while.”

You barely had time to sit down before a hand smacked your back playfully. Jisung grinned at you from across the table, a knowing glint in his eyes. “We were just about to plan a funeral for you, what happened?”

You swallowed thickly, your face burning. “I was sick,” you blurted out, the first excuse that popped into your head.

Jisung’s brows shot up. “Sick?”

Hyunjin snorted. “What, like love sick?”

Your stomach flipped, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes. “No, dumbass. Just… sick.”

Jisung hummed, unconvinced, but he let it go in favor of stuffing his mouth full of food.

The table returned to its usual chaotic energy, playful banter bouncing back and forth between the members. You joined in where you could, laughing when Changbin and Minho bickered over the last pancake, Chan stepping in, telling them they had to leave it for Felix. You felt a little lighter now that the focus had shifted off of you.

But then, you felt him before you saw him.

Felix.

Emerging from his room, freshly cleaned up, hair still slightly damp, eyes sweeping the room before they landed on you.

Your stomach clenched, your breath catching in your throat.

He looked normal. He looked composed. Like nothing had happened.

But the second his gaze met yours, you knew.

You clenched your thighs together instinctively, forcing yourself to look away, shoving a spoonful of food into your mouth as a distraction.

Felix sat down across from you, grabbing a plate, acting as if everything was normal.

But you could feel it.

The tension still lingered, simmering beneath the surface, waiting.

And you had no idea how long you could keep pretending it wasn’t there.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

tags for beauties : @loverbangchan, @reignessance, @imperfectlyperfectprincess1, @armystay89, @ihrtlix, @lovestaysblogs, @jeyelleohe, @celebration88, @velvetmoonlght, @honeyybbuubblleess, @skzswife, @c9b7luv, @lixies-favorite-cookie, @yeetfellx, @lailac13, @amortiff, @crazylinofangirl, @sunshinesfreckless, @darkwitchoferie, @sanriomilk, @st4rv3lly, @skybluelixie, @potentialgay, @ana006banankica-blog

#skz #stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz imagines #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids smut #straykids #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #lee felix #felix lee #felix x reader #felix smut #skz felix #felix #stray kids felix #puppym3

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formerelswhore · 2 months ago

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— ONE DOVE ONE CROW

abby just loving the way how her thick fingers are stretching you out.. but there is ellie degrading the shit out of you.

praising. degrading. fingering. jealousy

Abby’s broad frame looms over you, her presence warm, her thick fingers buried deep inside you, curling with a deliberate slowness that makes your breath hitch, her other hand grips your thigh, keeping you spread open on the bed, vulnerable and exposed.

Her lips brush your ear, voice low and honeyed. “God, look at you, taking my fingers so well” Abby murmurs, her tone dripping with praise. “So fucking perfect, stretching out for me like this, you’re doing so good, baby.” Your body trembles under her touch, thighs quaking as she presses deeper, her fingers thick and unrelenting, coaxing whimpers from your lips.

The stretch burns just right, and her words wrap around you like a lifeline, grounding you in the haze of pleasure. But then there’s ellie, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, her sharp green eyes glinting with something cruel, she’s been watching the whole time, her lips curled into a smirk that promises nothing soft.

Her voice cuts through Abby’s warmth like a blade. “Pathetic” Ellie sneers, tilting her head as she looks you over “Look at you, whining like a desperate little slut, you’re practically begging for it, aren’t you? so fucking needy it’s embarrassing.” Your cheeks flush, a wave of shame crashing over you, but abby’s fingers don’t falter, she presses a kiss to your temple, her breath hot against your skin.

“Ignore her, sweetheart” she whispers, her voice a soothing contrast to ellie’s venom. “You’re so beautiful like this, opening up for me, i’m so proud of you.” The push and pull of their words makes your head spin, abby’s fingers curl again, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur, and a broken moan spills from your lips.

She hums in approval, her thumb brushing your clit in slow, teasing circles. “That’s it, baby” she coos. “Let me take care of you. You’re so tight, so perfect.” Ellie scoffs, stepping closer, her boots heavy on the floor, she leans down, her face inches from yours, her breath ghosting over your flushed skin.

“You think you’re special just because she’s sweet-talking you?” she taunts, her voice dripping with disdain “You’re just a hole for her to fuck, nothing more, bet you’d let anyone stretch you out if they asked, wouldn’t you?” The words sting, twisting something sharp in your chest, but Abby’s hand tightens on your thigh, grounding you. “Don’t listen to her” she says firmly, her fingers pumping faster now, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the room.

“You’re mine, and you’re doing so fucking good, look at how you take me, how you let me in, so strong, so gorgeous.” Your body arches, caught between the warmth of abby’s praise and the cold edge of ellie’s degradation.

Tears prick your eyes, but the pleasure is overwhelming, building into something unstoppable, ellie’s smirk widens as she watches you unravel. “Go on, cry about it” she mocks “you’re such a mess, falling apart like a cheap toy, bet you love being used like this.” Abby growls softly, her focus unwavering as she leans over you, shielding you from ellie’s gaze. “You’re so close, aren’t you, baby?” she whispers, her voice a lifeline.

"Come for me. Show me how good you feel." The coil in your core snaps, and you come with a choked sob, your body shuddering as abby’s fingers work you through it, her praise a constant murmur in your ear, ellie’s laughter is sharp, but it’s distant now, drowned out by the warmth of Abby’s touch, her voice guiding you back.

As you catch your breath, Abby kisses your forehead, her fingers slipping out slowly, leaving you empty and sensitive “You did so good” she says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, ellie just rolls her eyes, already turning for the door. “Whatever” she mutters. “Have fun cleaning up her mess.” But Abby’s arms are around you now, pulling you close, and her warmth is all that matters.

#abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby x reader #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #abby tlou #abby x you #ellabs x reader #ellabs

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cinnxmxngxrl · 1 month ago

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“Already ruined” pt3

Harry Da Souza x f!Reader

Part 1 here | Part 2 here | Harry’s Masterlist

Summary: You agree to a double date—just you, your best friend Jan, Harry… and the imaginary boyfriend you had to invent so Jan wouldn’t suspect you’re fucking with her husband.

WC: 6.5k

Warnings/Tags: smut, minors DNI, unprotected piv, semi-public sex, slight choking, dirty talk, orgasm denial, infidelity

You shouldn’t have lied to Jan, making up some story about a guy from work you were allegedly seeing. And when she said “We should double date sometime.” You shouldn’t have agreed.

What were you supposed to say? “Actually, Jan, I’ve been fucking your husband behind your back. Sorry, darling, can’t make Thursday?”

So you smiled. Lied. Fumbled through excuses—something about being way too busy, or the thing with your office coworker not being that serious.

But Jan wasn’t stupid. She saw through people like fog. You remembered the other night—tea, biscuits, and that offhanded, soul-crushing confession:

“I think he might be cheating on me,” she said, stirring sugar into her tea like it wasn’t the single most devastating sentence she could’ve dropped.

You nearly choked on your biscuit, your throat locking up like a trap. The words clung to the air, suffocating.

“No way, babe,” you said quickly, too quickly, a drop of sweat crawling down your spine.

“I don’t even know what to believe anymore. He’s just… different. It’s not just work, it’s—he’s somewhere else lately.”

Her voice trembled. You stared at her, guilt slicing through you like a dull knife, slow and unrelenting.

“It’s probably just work and stress. You know, you shouldn’t let the intrusive thoughts in.”

“Maybe. All I know is that it’s getting worse with him. He’s not the same.”

You wanted to scream. To confess. To disappear. Instead you poured her more tea with shaking hands.

So when Jan had insisted and practically begged to have a double date, you had no choice but to ask Liam from Accounting—the least threatening man on Earth.

Liam, who smiled like a golden retriever and winced every time someone raised their voice. He was cute. Not your type at all, but cute anyway. Always in a plaid suit. Always with that little notebook he carried tucked under one arm, his glasses perched slightly crooked on the bridge of his nose.

He’d asked you out, once. Mumbled it. Rushed through it like a man stepping onto a train just as the doors closed. And you’d said no — gently, kindly — and made sure to smile the way that said please don’t feel embarrassed, even though you both knew he would anyway. But he hadn’t held it against you.

And that was what made him perfect now.

Liam was the kind of man Jan wouldn’t blink twice at. He was sweet. Predictable. Safe. Nothing like the man whose ring she wore.

The man who’d already texted you that afternoon with a single word:

“Don’t.”

And now, here you were.

Perched on the rooftop of the chic restaurant Jan had insisted on—some airy space with twinkling string lights, linen tablecloths, and a view of the skyline that should’ve felt romantic. Instead, it felt like a spotlight.

Liam sat next to you. Across from you, Jan beamed, foot tapping against the floor in nervous little bursts. Harry was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, scanning the rooftop. “This is so Harry. Honestly.”

“Don’t worry,” Liam replied, offering his most cheerful grin. “These things happen.”

“He always does this,” Jan said, more to herself now. “Every damn time he—”

And then Harry arrived. The air changed. Just like that. He moved through the restaurant like he owned it, the cut of his coat sharp, his stare sharper. When he saw Liam, something shifted behind his eyes—a twitch, a shadow, gone as quickly as it came.

He kissed Jan’s cheek. Shook Liam’s hand just a fraction too hard. Then turned to you.

That look. That stare. He didn’t kiss your cheek. Just looked. And it was enough. Enough to make your breath catch, your spine stiffen, your skin prickle like he’d branded it with a glance.

He didn’t need words. You’d crossed a line.

Harry sat across from you, his broad shoulders dwarfing the worn leather booth, his fingers tight around a sweating glass of bourbon.

He hadn’t said much—he didn’t need to. His eyes had done all the talking the moment he saw Liam’s hand lightly on your back.

Steel. Fury. Possessiveness barely masked behind polite indifference.

Liam laughed at something Jan said and turned to you. “You didn’t tell me Jan was this funny.”

You forced a smile. “She’s the best.” It wasn’t a lie. But it sat on your tongue like poison.

Harry’s eyes flicked to you, then Liam, then down to your thigh—the one Liam had casually touched earlier. A moment you’d brushed off with a laugh, but Harry had seen it. Catalogued it.

He leaned in.

“So, Liam,” he said, voice low and perfectly civil, “what is it you do again?”

Liam blinked. “Oh—uh, data analytics. Mostly spreadsheets. Models. Numbers.”

Harry hummed. “Right. Numbers. A safe bet.” Then, a pause. “How’s it feel workin’ in a place where the biggest threat is a papercut?”

Liam chuckled awkwardly. “Better than needing hazard pay, I suppose.”

Harry smiled, all teeth. “Don’t sell yourself short. Spreadsheets can be brutal. One formula off and the whole quarter goes to hell.”

It sounded polite. But you felt the blade in it.

You shot Harry a look—sharp, warning—but he didn’t see it. Or ignored it. He was still staring at Liam, dissecting him with his eyes.

You watched Liam straighten in his seat, visibly unsettled, like he’d just realized he was prey.

…

Later, Liam was talking about a podcast—economic collapse, startup failures. Jan listened with genuine curiosity. You nodded along, pretending to follow, but really, you were watching Harry.

And he was watching you. He was too calm. Too quiet. That meant danger.

He hadn’t touched his steak. His glass was half-empty and forgotten. But he’d refilled your wine—twice. Not Jan’s.

His knee bumped yours under the table. A warning. A promise.

“Anyway,” Liam said, a little too brightly, “I was telling her earlier I’d love to take her to this rooftop bar I know. The view’s amazing.”

Harry set his glass down. Hard. The sound cracked across the table. A nearby waiter flinched.

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Jan said, eyes bright with innocent support. “You should take her sometime!”

Harry’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Right. Very noble of you. Bet she’s lucky to have you.”

Jan turned to him, blinking. “You alright, babe?”

“Peachy,” Harry said smoothly. “Just enjoyin’ the company. Liam’s got a… lovely presence.” His voice was like syrup over broken glass.

You smiled through it. Drank your wine. And wished you could vanish through the cracks in the marble floor.

Your throat was tight. Your jaw ached from the strain of pretending. You could feel Harry’s eyes on you—hot, watchful, seething beneath a lazy mask.

You tried not to stiffen. Jan didn’t notice. She was too busy slicing into her salmon, oblivious to the war zone she was sitting in.

“So, Liam,” she said, gesturing with her fork, “you two met at work, right?”

“Had my eye on her ever since her first day. She’s smart,” Liam said, smiling as he turned toward you. “Everyone likes her at the office. Honestly, you’ve made Mondays bearable.”

You felt your stomach sink.

Harry’s jaw flexed. “Cute,” he murmured. That word sounded like a threat.

Jan smiled between you all, cheerful and radiant, completely unaware. “You two would make a cute couple.”

Your heart stuttered. You nearly dropped your fork, metal clinking against the plate like a gunshot.

Harry let out a low laugh—sharp, humorless, a blade hidden in velvet. “Would they?”

Liam blinked. Unsure. Hesitating like prey sensing the predator too late.

You chuckled nervously. “I mean… we’re just getting to know each other.”

“Yes, but I can already tell she’s a keeper,” Liam added with a confident smile.

Jan beamed.

You coughed lightly, reaching for your wine to cover the sudden tremble in your fingers. Your glass was empty. Before you could even ask, Harry reached over—refilled it silently. His fingers brushed yours. Deliberate. Cold. Possessive.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear. “Wouldn’t want you too drunk to remember this nice evenin’ with your fella here.”

You froze for half a breath. His voice was silk pulled taut over iron.

Liam, bless him, tried to recover.

“So… uh, this duck is incredible,” he said, tone too bright, eyes flicking around the table like he was trying to distract a bear with a picnic basket. “Really tender. You guys tried it?”

Jan smiled. “It’s one of my favorites here. We came here for our anniversary once, remember?” She turned to Harry, her eyes soft, warm.

Harry didn’t look at her. He was still watching you.

He cut into his steak with slow, surgical precision. His knife slicing through meat like a warning. “Mm. Hard to forget.”

You wanted to sink into the seat and disappear.

Jan, always the peacemaker, leaned toward Liam, trying to patch the bleeding tension with small talk. “So, Liam—how long have you been at the company with her?”

“Oh, coming up on a year now,” Liam replied quickly, clearly grateful for the redirect. “Still learning the ropes, but I’ve got a good team.”

Harry sipped his bourbon, watching Liam over the rim of his glass. “That’s cute.”

Liam blinked, confused. “Sorry?”

“I said that’s cute,” Harry repeated, smiling now. A cold, thin smile that never touched his eyes. “The whole… still learnin’ thing. It’s good to know your place early on.”

Another sip. Another smirk.

“Avoids disappointment later.”

His words were dressed up like banter, but you could feel the pulse of violence beneath them.

Jan frowned. “Harry.”

“What?” he asked, playing innocent, feigning charm. You could almost hear the snarl behind his voice. “I’m just makin’ conversation.”

Jan leaned toward Liam again. “He’s just teasing. Harry’s always like this with new people.”

“Am I?” Harry said, turning his gaze slowly toward her, head tilted, like he was measuring something. Or someone.

Jan, undeterred, tried again. “So, Liam—any trips planned? You said earlier you love traveling, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Liam said, latching on to the new topic like a lifeline. “Thinking of Barcelona. Maybe a few days off next month.”

Harry’s voice cut in smooth and slow. “That so? And you plannin’ to take her with you?” He didn’t gesture. Didn’t need to. His gaze slid to you like a blade drawn across bare skin.

Your cheeks flushed instantly. A line of heat rising up your neck. Your spine straightened, muscles locked like you’d been yanked upright by an invisible wire.

Liam laughed again, nervous now. “I mean… if she wanted to. That’d be fun, right?”

You smiled tightly. “We’ll see.” It was the safest answer you could give. And even that felt like a gamble.

Harry’s smile stretched wider. Lazy. Dangerous. Like a wolf with blood in its teeth.

“You could do Paris,” he said, swirling his bourbon. “City of love, innit?”

You gripped the stem of your wine glass too tight. Any tighter and it might’ve snapped in your hand. Because you could hear what he was really saying: You’re mine. I dare you to forget it.

You needed air.

You excused yourself with a tight smile, mumbling something about the bathroom, and stood so quickly your napkin fell to the floor. You left it.

You didn’t breathe until the door swung shut behind you. You leaned over the sink, bracing your hands against the cool porcelain, and stared into the mirror.

Your lipstick was still perfect. Your composure wasn’t.

The door creaked open behind you.

You didn’t have to look to know it was him.

He didn’t speak right away. You watched his reflection instead—broad shoulders filling the doorway, eyes dark and burning, that same slow, deliberate way he moved when he was pissed off and trying not to show it.

The door clicked shut behind him.

You turned.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you hissed, voice low, sharp. “This is the ladie—”

His smile was slow. Mocking. “What do you think I’m doin’?”

“You can’t be in here—”

“I can be wherever the fuck I want,” he said, stepping forward. “Who the fuck is that twat you brought here?”

You backed up, but the sink was already pressing into your spine. “Liam’s just a guy from work.”

“Just a guy from work who touches your tights like he has the right to.”

“What the fuck did you want me to do? Your wife wanted to meet the guy I had to make up so she wouldn’t suspect I’m fucking her husband!”

“Yet you’re lettin’ him touch you like he has a chance. Lettin’ him talk about rooftop bars and fuckin’ Barcelona while you sat there pretendin’ your cunt isn’t mine.”

“I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t know we were exclusive,” you said. “Maybe you’re forgetting about the fact you’re married, so you have no right to act like a jealous cunt.”

“Of course I’m a jealous cunt when I see that wanker sittin’ there next to you. You think he could handle you?” he whispered, breath hot against your cheek. “You think he’d know what to do if you started crying from how good it felt? You think he could take you in the dark, hand over your mouth to shush your screams?”

You shook your head, breath ragged. “Stop—someone could come in.”

His smile sharpened. “Get in the stall.”

“Harry—”

“Now.”

He pressed closer. You felt him now hard beneath his pants, hips flush against yours, the edge of his thigh pinning you in place.

“You belong to me,” he said, lips brushing your ear. “Every breath, every lie you told tonight, you did it with my cum still inside you, didn’t you?”

You gasped. “Harry—”

The stall door creaks open behind you —the farthest one, tucked into the corner— and before you can speak, Harry’s hand wraps around your wrist and yanks you inside.

The lock slams shut.

“What are you—”

He spins you around and shoves you back against the tiled wall. Not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to make your knees buckle.

His thigh wedges between yours, and the friction makes you moan. He grins — cruel, crooked, like he already knows he’s won.

“You want him to hear you?” Harry hisses. “Want that cunt to wonder why you’re takin’ so long while I’ve got you spread open in a fuckin’ restaurant bathroom?”

“Harry—please—”

He kisses you — brutal, devouring. All teeth and tongue and fury. You don’t kiss back so much as survive it.

Your teeth slam together. Your skull thuds against cold tile. His stubble scrapes your chin raw. He kisses like he wants to consume you, like he’s trying to carve himself into your mouth with each savage drag of his tongue.

He bites your lip hard enough to sting, then trails kisses down your neck, wet and open-mouthed.

Each kiss lands with a filthy, desperate sound, lips dragging, teeth scraping across your throat like he wants to mark you inside and out. His tongue flicks over your pulse, hot and possessive, and then he sinks his teeth in just enough to bruise. You feel it blossom beneath his mouth before it even swells — purple and aching, a secret brand.

He turns you around and presses your chest up to the wall; his hands hikes your dress up over your ass, exposing your panties. His grip is bruising, you can already feel the shape of his fingers etching into your skin, anchoring you in place like you might try to run.

“Fuck. You wore these for him?” His voice was a dark, guttural rasp, full of disbelief and something wilder like possession. Fury disguised as lust.

His fingers dragging slowly along the sheer edge of your panties, feeling just how soft—how barely-there—they were.

“No,” you gasped, back arching into his touch. “No, I wore them for you—”

“Bet he’s over there thinkin’ he’s gonna get this ass once dinner’s over, right?” One hand flattened against your lower back, the other sliding down until he was grabbing a handful of your ass through the lace—rough, possessive. “Bet he’s sittin’ across the fuckin’ table with a hard-on, thinkin’ he’s earned a taste of what I’ve already ruined for anyone else.”

You whimpered, knees threatening to buckle. “He’s not. He’s not—he won’t touch me—”

“Damn right he won’t,” Harry snarled.

His fingers hook the waistband of your panties and snap the elastic against your skin — hard. The sting makes you flinch. Then he slips his hand beneath the lace, knuckles grazing your inner thigh, slow and deliberate and cruel, like he’s savoring the way you squirm.

“Are you gonna let him fuck you later? Eh?” His voice was low, guttural, that edge of jealousy slicing through each word like a blade.

“God, no.” Your voice came out a little too fast, a little too breathless. Because just the idea of anyone else touching you? It made your skin crawl. It made you feel dirty.

He growled softly in your ear. “You better let that fucker know he’s not gettin’ any of this tonight.”

His hand slips under the lace — slow, deliberate — fingers ghosting over your soaked folds, and when he feels just how wet you are, he stills. The breath he drags in is sharp. His jaw clenches so tight you can see the muscle ticking.

“Drippin’,” he mutters, almost in disbelief. “Fuckin’ drippin’. Like a little whore in heat.”

You whimper, you can’t help it, his fingers haven’t even done anything yet, and already you’re clenching around nothing.

“This for him?” His voice drops to a dangerous low, rasping filth against your ear while his fingers press more firmly between your folds. “You’re this wet because of him?”

“No,” you gasp, head falling back as his fingers start to move, slow, shallow strokes that barely graze your entrance, maddening and perfect all at once. “It’s you, Harry. It’s only you.”

He growls, low and guttural, and hooks a finger just enough to slide through your slick folds again, spreading it, feeling how it coats you.

“Fuckin’ right it’s me,” he snarls. “Because I’m the one who knows how to make this cunt cry, yeah? I’m the one who knows how to ruin you so good you can’t walk straight for a fuckin’ week.”

You moan, your hips jerking, desperate for more, for deeper. But he’s not giving it to you yet. He’s savoring it. Making you beg.

“What are you, love? Tell me what you are.”

Your voice is barely a whisper, shaky and wrecked: “Yours.”

He presses in deeper now, two fingers, and your knees nearly buckle as he curls them just right.

You feel him twitch against your hip. He’s rock hard , thick and heavy, straining behind the rough press of his trousers. The head of his cock grinds against the curve of your ass.

He drags your panties down and lets them hang around your knees. Then he unzips himself. The sound is brutal in the silence, sharp and dirty, like a gun cocking, like violence.

He doesn’t even look down. Just lines himself up with the soaked seam of you and shoves in.

No warning. No pause. Just one savage, ruthless thrust.

The stretch is brutal. He’s too big, too deep, too fucking fast. It hits you like a freight train, knocks the breath clean out of your lungs, the force of him splitting you open so suddenly your knees give out.

You try to cry out, but your mouth just hangs open, silent, your throat working uselessly around the sheer overwhelming fullness. You’re choking on it — on him — stretched to the edge of pain and trembling right there on the knife’s edge of unbearable pleasure.

Your teeth sink into your fist, trying to muffle the scream that’s clawing its way out. But Harry sees it.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare stay quiet now,” he growls, fucking into you with punishing pace.

Each thrust slams you forward, your cheek skidding across the cold tile, hands scrabbling uselessly for leverage. His hips crash into you like a hammer — unforgiving, relentless, obscene. The slap of skin on skin is a goddamn metronome, cruel and constant.

“You weren’t quiet when he touched your thigh, were you? Let’s see if you’re still so bold with my cock inside you.” And then he slams into you again, brutal and punishing, his cock driving so deep you swear he’s in your throat.

The stall shakes. Your hands fly to the wall, fingers scrabbling at the tile for purchase as Harry slams into you, over and over, like he’s trying to erase any trace of Liam from your skin. Like he’s branding you from the inside out.

Your thighs tremble. Your cunt clenches around him involuntarily with every sharp snap of his hips.

You were soaked, the slick sound of him fucking into you loud enough to echo, filthy enough to make your cheeks burn. Every stroke feels impossibly deep, like he’s trying to fuck you into the wall.

It’s too much. It’s never enough.

You’re already close. Too close.

His hand wraps around your throat, tight enough to make your vision blur at the edges.

Your moan is strangled, helpless and guttural. It vibrates in your throat under his palm. The pressure sends lightning through your nerves, makes your knees buckle, your cunt clench.

“You want to cum?” he growls, voice low and merciless behind you. “Say it.”

You whimper, running out of breath, your body trembling under his grip, brain fogged with nothing but him “Harry—”

His fingers dig harder into your throat, bruising, anchoring you in place. You can feel the threat in his hold, the raw tension coiled in his muscles. “Say. It.”

“I want to cum,” you choke out, voice breaking. “Please—please let me—”

“Not yet.”

And then he pulls all the way out. Letting go of your throat.

You gasp for air, a shattered, desperate sound. Your cunt clenches around nothing, fluttering wildly, aching for him, for anything.

The emptiness is unbearable. A sharp, searing ache deep inside that has your body twitching, your thighs trembling from how close you were.

“Fuck—Harry—please—”

He doesn’t answer. Just kicks your legs wider, spreading you open like he owns you, like your body was made to take this. And then he slams back in. Deeper. Harder. Rougher.

You scream. Raw and hoarse and helpless. The sound punches out of your chest like a sob, split wide open by the sheer force of him.

You can feel every inch, every vein, every ridge. The thick, ruthless length of him dragging against your walls, splitting you open until your legs shake and your arms give out.

“That’s it,” he growls, voice thick with possessive rage. “Let them hear. Let every sorry fuck in this place know who you belong to.”

His pace doesn’t slow, it only gets rougher, more vicious. His cock pounds into you with ruthless precision, dragging you back onto him like you’re nothing but a toy made to take him. His hands clamp down on your hips, fingers bruising, controlling every jolt of your wrecked body as he drives into you again. And again. And again.

He’s owning you. Like a man unhinged, fucked-out and jealous and determined to stake a claim no one else could ever challenge.

“You think he’d fuck you like this?” he snarls, breath hot against your neck, hips slamming into you so hard the filthy slap of skin echoes off the walls. “Think Liam could make you cry just by fillin’ you up?”

You sob — a real, broken thing — the kind that rattles in your throat and spills out of your mouth before you can stop it.

His hand shoots up, grabs a fistful of your hair, and yanks your head back so your neck arches, your mouth falling open on a silent moan. His lips brush your ear, but his voice is a growl, raw and dark and right on the edge of losing control.

“Answer me.”

“N-no,” you choke out, barely audible, “no one else. Just you.”

He groans, loud and guttural, like your words lit a fuse inside him.

“That fuckin’ twat would cum in less than a minute if he ever felt a cunt as good as yours.” His hips slam forward so hard you jolt, caught between his grip and the tile beneath you.

“So fuckin’ tight. So hot,” he gasps, his rhythm brutal, punishing. “This cunt was made for me. Do you hear me? I’ve ruined it for anyone else.”

And god, you know it’s true. You can feel it in every thrust, the way he fits so deep it hurts, the way your body clenches around him like it never wants to let go. Like it knows him.

“Only I can fuck you like this. Only I know how to handle this pretty little body.”

Your knees give out. Only the wall — and his grip — keep you upright.

“Beg,” he hisses. “Beg me to let you cum.”

You sob. “Please—Harry, please—I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours—I’m yours—please—”

He fucks you like he’s losing his mind, like loving you is killing him, and he’s choosing it anyway. Your tits bounce with every brutal thrust, the stall rattling, your body a trembling, gasping ruin in his hands.

“Fuck, I love you, babe.” His voice breaks on a moan, hips still snapping forward with merciless rhythm. “I fuckin’ love you. You’re mine.”

Your breath catches. He just said it. Dropped the fucking I love you bomb right there, mid-thrust, while your body trembles beneath his, your palms slipping against the cold bathroom tile, your cunt stretched around his cock and clenching so hard it hurts.

That’s what burns you alive. That’s what splits you open and leaves you bleeding for him.

Because his wife is outside. She’s sitting at the table. Your best friend, who minutes ago laughed at something you said. Passed you the wine. Touched your hand. And now you’re bent in half in a public restroom, getting ruined by the man who promised her forever. And he’s telling you he loves you.

His hand slides between your thighs, and he rubs once — just once — and you shatter. You cum with a scream, loud, raw and helpless, his hand presses over your mouth to muffle the ragged, animal sound that rips out of you. Your body convulsing, walls clenching tight around him like a vice. It tears out of you like an exorcism, wild, violent, blinding.

Harry groans low in your ear and follows you over the edge. His hips snap once, twice, then he buries himself deep, balls pressed tight against your soaked, swollen clit.

He growls, animal and broken, as he spills inside you, thick and hot, his cock jerking deep in your fluttering walls, cum leaking out around his cock in slow, messy drips, before he even pulls away.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. The only sound is the echo of your breathing, the soft, wet drip of your mixed release hitting the tile.

Then he pulls out — slow, final, the wet drag of him leaving your body raw and trembling.

He tucks himself away, breath still ragged, knuckles white as he zips up like it takes effort, like pulling himself out of you meant severing a vein.

And then he just stands there for a moment, looking down. His gaze drops to the slick mess between your thighs — your arousal, his release, the ruin he’s left behind. And he stares like it’s holy. Like it’s fucking proof. Like it’s a mark of ownership burned into your skin.

He leans in and presses a kiss to your shoulder, gentle, reverent, too soft for what just happened. It feels like a benediction. Like the final word in a prayer.

“Clean up,” he murmurs, voice low and dark, like a secret you’ll carry for the rest of your life. “And smile when you come back to the table.”

He’s gone. The door swings shut behind him, the echo leaving you breathless, hollowed out, dripping. He doesn’t even bother to address his confession from before.

You looked at your reflection, he’d left you completely wrecked, makeup smudged across your face, tears streaming down your cheeks. Lipstick smeared. Bite marks swelling on your collarbone. Hair mussed, dress wrinkled, panties tangled around one ankle. A thick, milky line slides slowly down your inner thigh — his claim on you.

And yet, your expression in the mirror wasn’t shame.

It was hunger. Victory. Satisfaction. A smile threatening at the corner of your bloodied mouth.

It was something far more dangerous.

It was the middle of the night when your phone buzzed quietly on the nightstand, the screen lighting up the dark room.

A text from Harry.

“Can’t stop thinking about the mess we made in that bathroom.”

You smiled to yourself in the glow of the screen, biting your lip as the memory burned fresh and filthy in your mind. Your thighs clenched under the covers instinctively.

Your fingers tapped out a reply, teasing:

“I think someone was a little jealous, huh?”

A few seconds passed. Then his name lit up your screen again.

“I ever see you around that cunt again and I’ll kill him.”

God. Cheeky. Possessive. Dangerous. Yours.

“Don’t worry,”

“You’re the one who gets all of me.”

“Always.”

He didn’t respond right away. You watched the typing bubble blink in and out before finally, his next message came through:

“You looked beautiful tonight. Too beautiful for a prick like him.”

Your cheeks flushed in the dark, a heat blooming beneath your skin that had nothing to do with the covers. You weren’t sixteen, and yet here you were, grinning into your pillow like some girl with a crush.

You typed back:

“It’s not like I was trying to make you jealous or anything…”

“I just didn’t want Jan to suspect.”

A beat.

Then—

“I know.”

“I meant what I said earlier, just so you know.”

Your heart kicked up, fingers hesitating above the screen. You swallowed.

“What part?”

“You said a lot.”

His reply came fast.

“Everything.”

“Including the I love you.”

Shit. You stared at the words, your chest tightening around them like a vise. The echo of him—his voice growling that confession into your ear as he buried himself inside you—resurfaced in a wave of heat and guilt.

And yet… You let your thumbs type slowly, deliberately:

“Go to sleep, Harry. It’s late.”

You set the phone face-down on the nightstand before you could overthink it, your pulse still racing as you rolled over.

But sleep didn’t come easy.

Not with the ghost of his hands still gripping your hips.

Not with the way your name had sounded broken in his throat when he came inside you.

And not with the weight of three words still hanging in the air between you, not when you loved him back just as much. But you knew it could never be.

You woke up the next day, groggy and sore, but the moment you grabbed your phone, your eyes flew wide open.

Your muscles ached from the night before, your skin still hot with the ghosts of his hands, but all of that vanished the second the screen lit up.

Six missed calls from Harry.

Twenty-five from Jan.

And then you saw them—a flood of text messages that made your stomach twist and drop like a stone:

“You fucking lying whore.”

“I can’t believe I ever trusted you.”

“I let you in my house.”

“You lied to my face.”

Each word hit like a slap, like a fist tightening around your throat. Your heart stuttered, then raced. Your breath caught. Your vision blurred. You felt like you might throw up.

Panic surged through you like a lightning bolt, white-hot and unforgiving.

Had she found out? Did she go through Harry’s phone? Did he leave something behind—some trace, some scent, some mark she couldn’t ignore?

Did she notice the way you walked funny last night, when you came out of the bathroom barely holding yourself together, thighs still shaking from how hard he’d fucked you against the tiles? The bruises on your hips, your throat, the inside of your thighs—faint fingerprints left in places no one else was ever supposed to see?

Had she seen those? Had she looked at you and known? Felt it in her bones—the betrayal, the heat, the truth?

Before you could even think about what your next move should be, there was a knock on the door.

Hard. Sharp. Urgent.

Your whole body tensed. You stood frozen, phone still in your hand, heart pounding against your ribs like it wanted out.

You didn’t even breathe. Just stared at the door like it might burst open.

And then, slowly, with shaking hands, you opened it.

Harry.

He stood there, and he looked like fucking hell.

His face pale, drawn tight, lips pressed together like he was holding back an avalanche. His shirt wrinkled like he hadn’t changed, collar twisted, one button undone.

His hair was a mess—flattened on one side, pushed back on the other like he’d run his fingers through it again and again and again. Eyes bloodshot, bruised underneath. Eyes that had clearly not seen sleep.

“Harry, what the fuck happened? I’ve got— I’ve got like a million missed calls—”

“I broke it off with Jan.”

His voice was quiet. Too quiet. Like he didn’t even realize what the fuck he’d just said. Like it wasn’t the most seismic thing to ever come out of his mouth.

“I came clean. Told her the truth. She deserved that much.”

You stared at him, completely stunned, mouth dry, pulse thundering in your ears. You couldn’t even blink.

“You told her about us?!” Your voice cracked. It came out high, panicked. Your whole body flushed with heat, your skin prickling, blood rushing in a thousand directions at once. “What… what did you say exactly?”

He sighed and looked away, hand rubbing the back of his neck, fingers twitching, like even now, after it was done, he didn’t have the courage to face it all head-on.

“I told her I fell in love with you.”

The air left your lungs. Completely. Your stomach dropped like a trapdoor had opened inside of you.

“And you told her we’ve been fucking behind her back for months?”

He winced. “Well… I didn’t… I didn’t use those exact words. Tried to make it sound… less harsh.”

“Oh my god, Harry. Why? Why would you do that?” Your voice trembled now, barely above a whisper. You could barely stand still. Your legs were weak and your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

He was quiet for a beat. Too long.

“Hmm… why I broke the heart of a woman I deeply care about?” He looked back at you, eyes full of regret and something softer underneath. “To be with the woman I love.”

“Jesus. This is a mess. This is—”

“Relax,” he stepped forward, hands reaching out fast, anchoring themselves on your shoulders. The heat of his skin seeped through your shirt. “Just relax. Look at me. It’s alright.”

“It’s not alright, Harry! It’s—God—How did she take it?”

He sighed again, deeper this time, like he was still carrying the weight of it in his lungs.

“She cried. Then she yelled. Threw a plate at the wall—missed my head by an inch.” His mouth twitched like he wanted to laugh, but couldn’t. “Then she said this marriage was broken long before you came into the picture.”

You stared at him, chest heaving, mind reeling. It didn’t feel real. None of it. Like you were in the middle of a dream and every second only pulled you further into the freefall.

“Fuck. What are you gonna do now?”

“I’ll sign the divorce papers when she hands them to me. I’m sure she already has a lawyer handlin’ that.”

“How…how are you?”

He looked at you then. Really looked. Like he was letting you see everything. No walls. No filters. Just him. Raw. Tired. Unraveling.

“It’s not easy. Hurtin’ someone you once loved never is. But…”

He paused. His voice rasped with exhaustion, and something else—freedom. Relief. Pain. All tangled together.

“I feel like it’s the first time in years I can finally breathe. Feel like I don’t have a rope tied around my neck. Relief. I reckon that’s the word.”

You bit your lip, hard. The air between you felt thick. Heavy with everything you’d never said.

“Why now? Why did you do it now?”

He stepped closer.

“You want the truth? Yeah? I did it because I couldn’t sleep last night, couldn’t stop thinkin’ that the happiest moment in my whole week, right? Was the ten minutes I spent with you inside that bathroom stall.”

He kept going, his words falling out of him like a confession he couldn’t hold in anymore.

“Because I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you, babe. About how I feel when I’m around you. And how fuckin’ sick it made me to imagine you with someone else. How I’d have to sit across a dinner table one day, watchin’ you hold some other man’s hand while pretendin’ I didn’t want to rip his throat out.”

And then he closed the gap, his hands sliding around your waist, gripping tight like he needed to make sure you were really there.

Your body pressed flush against his, hip to hip, chest to chest. You could feel the tension thrumming through him, the heat of his skin, the desperation in his fingers.

“I kept thinking about how I don’t want to hide anymore. About how I want you in my bed, in my home. Not just in secret. Not just in the dark.”

“Harry, I—”

“You don’t understand.” His voice cracked, barely held together. His face twisted with all the things he never let anyone see. “How miserable I was before you. How the only time I ever fuckin’ smile is when I’m with you. How alive I feel when you look at me like that, like I’m not just some man wastin’ away in a dead marriage.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your hands reached up on their own, fingers brushing along the sharp line of his jaw, slow and reverent, like touching something sacred.

“I love you, Harry.” Your voice was trembling, soaked in truth, remembering the way he had said it the night before. “I love you too.”

He blinked, and for a second—just one second—his entire face softened.

“For a long time I thought this was all life could be. And then you came along. And I realized…there could be more.”

And then he kissed you.

Soft. Sweet. Gentle.

Nothing like the brutal, desperate way he had the night before—when he fucked you like he was trying to crawl inside your skin.

This was slower. Realer.

A kiss from a man who had just destroyed something sacred to hold you like this.

A kiss that tasted like endings—and beginnings.

And in that moment, mess and wreckage and all, you knew:

Whatever comes next, you’re not running anymore.

You’re his. And he’s yours.

Even if it costs you everything.

A/N: This was the final part of the story, I really hope you enjoy the ending! I ended up going with a happy ending for Harry and the reader, so fingers crossed it hits right. And if not… feel free to gaslight yourself into believing whatever ending you prefer lol.

And to everyone who’s requested Harry fics, don’t worry, they’re coming very soon!!

Thanks so much for all the support, love y’all💖

@rach5ive @reidswifeyyyyyy @weepingnimulot1995 @reidswifeyyyyyy @staley83

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

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barnesdolls · 3 months ago

Text

Steve Rogers and His Unhealthy Obsession with Bucky Barnes

Steve Rogers was many things.

Captain America. A national hero. A good friend.

But above all else—

Steve Rogers was a wife guy.

Except he wasn’t even married.

To be clear—Bucky wasn’t his husband.

They were just two idiots in love who refused to admit it and instead chose to ruin the lives of everyone around them.

And Bucky, despite all his grumbling and dramatic sighing, secretly loved every second of it.

—

INCIDENT #1: STEVE, A MENACE TO SOCIETY

The first time Sam realized how deeply Steve had committed to his role as Bucky’s personal hype man, they were all in the common room when Steve casually turned to Natasha and said:

“You know, Buck can kill someone in six different ways with a spoon.”

Bucky, mid-sip of coffee, nearly choked. “Steve—”

“And he never misses with a knife.” Steve beamed proudly. “Seriously, Nat, you’d be impressed. One time in the ‘40s—”

Natasha raised a brow. “Does he cook?”

Steve nodded. “Oh, yeah, and he’s really good at it. You should try his stew—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Natasha cut in.

Sam snorted. “Yeah, does he do anything that doesn’t involve stabbing?”

Steve turned to Bucky. “Do you?”

Bucky sighed into his coffee. “I breathe, Steve.”

“And beautifully, too.”

Bucky muttered a curse under his breath.

Steve, still smiling dreamily, added, “And he’s great at woodworking.”

Natasha leaned back. “Are you gonna tell us about how incredible his battle tactics are next?”

Steve gasped. “Oh my God, YES.”

Bucky groaned. “Oh my God, NO.”

—

INCIDENT #2: STEVE WILL THROW HANDS

It was a casual mission. A simple extraction.

Then some random HYDRA goon had the audacity to say, “The Winter Soldier? Wasn’t he just a brainwashed puppet?”

And Steve, who normally gave his speeches about “being the bigger man”, just decked the guy so hard he left a dent in the wall.

The whole room froze.

Bucky blinked. “Steve?”

Steve turned to him. “Yeah?”

Bucky pointed at the unconscious guy. “Did you just—”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah.”

Sam, who had witnessed everything, crossed his arms. “So, what, you just throw hands now?”

Steve nodded confidently. “If it’s for Bucky, absolutely.”

Natasha muttered, “This is embarrassing.”

Bucky, secretly pleased but refusing to show it, just sighed and said, “Steve, I literally do not care.”

Steve smiled. “I care enough for both of us.”

Bucky buried his face in his hands.

—

INCIDENT #3: STEVE CASUALLY DROPS GAY MARRIAGE INTO CONVERSATION FOR NO REASON

Bucky was minding his own business, sharpening his knife, when Steve just… said it.

“Hey, did you know gay marriage is legal in this century?”

Bucky froze mid-sharpening.

Slowly, he turned to Steve. “…And?”

Steve shrugged. “Just thought you should know.”

Bucky squinted. “…Why?”

Steve cleared his throat. “No reason.”

Bucky just stared at him. “Did you wake up today and decide, ‘Gee, I wonder if Bucky Barnes is up to date on modern marriage laws’?”

Steve looked suspiciously innocent. “I just thought it was interesting.”

Bucky leaned back, arms crossed. “Uh-huh. And this has nothing to do with you calling me your ‘murder husband’ to everyone we meet?”

Steve coughed. “Completely unrelated.”

Bucky didn’t blink. “Steve.”

Steve nodded. “Bucky.”

A long pause.

Then Bucky sighed. “Get out of my room.”

—

INCIDENT #4: “IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO BUCKY, I’M SUING”

During a mission briefing, Tony was explaining the team formations, and Steve—who was normally all about discipline—immediately interrupted.

“Wait, wait, wait. Where’s Bucky in this plan?”

Tony sighed. “Steve, he’s fine. He can handle himself.”

Steve crossed his arms. “That’s not what I asked.”

Tony rubbed his temples. “Steve—”

“Where. Is. Bucky?”

Everyone turned to look at Bucky, who was just sitting there, eating a protein bar.

He waved awkwardly. “Hi.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s on his mission, Cap. You’re not even in the same sector.”

Steve scowled. “Then I object.”

Tony stared. “This isn’t a wedding.”

Steve pointed at Bucky. “Then put me with him.”

“For what reason?”

Steve, without hesitation: “Moral support.”

Bucky groaned. “Jesus Christ, Steve.”

Tony closed his laptop. “I’m done.”

Sam sighed, rubbing his face. “You two are so much.”

Steve turned to Bucky, softly. “You’ll be okay, though, right?”

Bucky muttered something under his breath but nodded.

Steve smiled, content.

Sam whispered, “I swear to God, someone needs to get Steve laid.”

Bucky, mid-bite of his protein bar, choked.

—

INCIDENT #5: “WOW. GROUNDBREAKING.”

Steve was pacing.

And not just regular pacing—he was pacing like a father-to-be in a hospital waiting room, hands on his hips, looking like he was about to deliver the most serious speech of his life.

Bucky, lounging on the couch, beer in hand, just watched him with the energy of a man witnessing a trainwreck in slow motion.

Steve stopped pacing. Took a deep breath. Turned to Bucky with determined blue eyes.

“I have feelings for you.”

Silence.

A long, obnoxiously long silence.

Bucky just blinked.

Then, in the flattest, most sarcastic tone possible, he said:

“Wow. Groundbreaking.”

Steve frowned. “Wait—what?”

Bucky took a slow sip of his beer. “You don’t say, Steve.”

Steve squinted. “Are you being sarcastic?”

Bucky set the beer down. “Me? Sarcastic? No, Stevie, I am just so shocked right now. Truly, this is the most unexpected thing I’ve ever heard.”

Steve sighed deeply. “Bucky—”

Bucky gestured wildly. “I mean, sure, you look at me like I’m the last donut in a police station, and yeah, you literally threw hands with a guy for talking shit about me, and maybe you once told Tony that if anything happens to me you’d ‘file a formal complaint with the universe’—”

Steve groaned. “It was a joke.”

Bucky pointed at him. “No, it was a declaration.”

Sam, passing by with a sandwich, paused mid-bite. “Wait, he said that?”

Bucky nodded. “Oh, he said that.”

Sam whistled. “That’s crazy.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “I regret saying anything.”

Bucky smirked. “Oh, no, don’t regret it now, sweetheart. You’ve been in love with me since the Roosevelt administration.”

Steve glared. “I hate you.”

Bucky patted his knee, grinning. “You love me.”

Sam shook his head, muttering, “I need new friends,” before walking away.

#avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #captain america #james bucky buchanan barnes #steve rogers #the avengers #stucky #incorrect stucky #bucky and steve #steve and bucky #stucky incorrect quotes

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 1 year ago

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I'm craving for your writing, please spare me a crumb 🛐

ATEEZ favorite positions maybe?

ATEEZ favorite positions

❥ATEEZ (separately) x afab reader

➯a/n: i'm deep deeeeeeeep in the depths of writers block and trying to claw my way out like the feral writing gremlin i know i am- but i have no idea if this is any good, please forgive me for the atrociously long wait. happy valentines ! 💌💕

♡´･ᴗ･`♡▼・ᴥ・▼genre: smut, bullet point style, drabbles

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: eldest to youngest, unprotected(booooo), so much romance im a sucker, soft & rough sex, head(giving and receiving), dacryphilia, overstimulation, possessiveness, brat taming in the form of dumbification, strength kink, restraint, switching holes (LMAO?), forehead touches!!!!!!!! not proof read :(

��perm taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

彡★PARK SEONGHWA - lotus

he's a hopeless romantic, and it definitely shows through his favorite positions

he's seated on the edge of the bed, or couch, or chair, even seated on the floor-

and youre seated in his lap like it's your throne

your legs wrapped around his moving hips, arms around his neck and hands tangled up in his hair

it's his favorite position for many reasons

the angle of his hips which makes his cock tease the deepest parts of you

your heavy breaths falling right onto his lips, breathing the same air during such a passionate act

and the way he can see your eyes well up with pleasure with every little thrust until you come undone right infront of him

Seonghwa can see every little twitch of your face as he rests his forehead against yours, his hips had set an unrelenting slow and loving pace long ago and have yet to stop. His tip drags along your g-spot every time he pulls out, and you almost want to beg him to just stay buried deep because of the maddening slow building pleasure. Any attempt to speak on either of your parts only comes out as a puff of hot air into the others mouth. It isn't the first time you've done it in this position, but the intimacy of it completely blankets you every time. You can't feel anything other than each other, and it's pure euphoria.

彡★KIM HONGJOONG - cuddle fuck

it's not that it's his favorite persay, it's just the one that happens the most

people say this man hates affection, they couldn't be any more wrong

he loves to be close to you !

after a busy schedule and tiring day, all he wants to do is cuddle

but your body is so soft and warm pressed against his, he feels so safe and comfortable

he won't say anything at first, either because he's too embarrassed or too tired so it usually goes like this:

Hongjoong has his arms wrapped around you- one cradling you to his chest warmly as the other traces his racing thoughts on your lower back. One of your legs is hooked over his hip, the other tangled between his. You kiss over his tattoo with all of the care in the world and that's when the feeling in his lower belly stirs to life. As you go on about mundane things, like what you should cook the both of you for dinner, it only gets hotter and tighter. Your skin is searing against his in the most pleasant and simultaneously daunting ways. The way you bite your lip tells him you finally feel it, that hardness pressing against your thin house-shorts. You push aside the other topic at hand and move both of your shorts away, wordlessly slipping him inside of you. You're so close, you may as well be one soul. And that's just the way he likes it.

彡★JEONG YUNHO - v

yunho is TALL.

no matter what position you're in, innocent cuddling or sinful fucking or walking down the street-

he shadows over you like a demon

the softest demon ever but still

he's huge and it drives him over the edge when he can see and feel the difference compared to you

so when you've got your legs stretching up as far as they can go and they barely reach over his shoulders????

whew baby prepare your cervix to be bruised

It started as a simple mating press, Yunho' s cock begging him to just fill you as far as possible without breaking you. But when he sat up, your legs followed; no longer being pinned by his chest. You laid them flat against his sweaty chest and arched your back, breaking his mind in an overwhelming horniness as he felt your toes curl just on his shoulder blades when you came. Oh, he'll be damned if he stopped there. He went on for hours, he had never been so hard. He wanted to cum so badly, but at the same time, he never wanted to move away from the ethereal image of you below him like that. When he finally did (and hello wow that was so much cum it literally came splatting out between you) he made a mental note to most definitely get you worked up again tomorrow.

彡★KANG YEOSANG - mating press

this man's beauty and personality is so soft and silky

don't let that shit fool you breh

he is a beast in the bedroom, he goes feral when you're behind a locked door together

there's something about you that just makes him want to overtake your entire being and become one with you

something that makes him want you to break- break just for him

he loves every fiber of your being and he's possessive over you like no fucking other

because of his career, he's not allowed to show that publicly, and he more than makes up for his need to express his dominating feelings for you by-

well, by dominating you

Your thighs are crushed to your chest, feet dangling in the air and bouncing with every rough thrust of Yeosang 's skilled hips. If there was a time that this position was uncomfortable, that time is long gone. All of his deep, quick thrusts wipe away anything in your mind other than him, and the glazed over look in your eyes only makes him go harder. His eyes nearly roll into his skull every time he feels you clench around him, your cunt completely at his mercy. You're ripe for the picking. Laid out for him helplessly, stuck in position by his rough and loving hands on the back of your sore thighs. Completely weak beneath him as he fucks you like it's the last thing he'll ever do on this mortal earth, and you simply let him because you love him. And he absolutely revels in it.

彡★CHOI SAN - against the wall

"sannie bulked up after wooyoung chest bumped him across stage!!"

erm no

sannie bulked up when he saw you watching an against the wall video!!

his brain immediately fried at the idea of doing that to you and now here we are a few years later

he prides himself in how strong he's gotten, how muscular he is

it's an ego boost really, and a deserved one

he loves bending you into whichever position he wants to just because he can

but this will always be his personal favorite

San has his arms wrapped around the underside of your knees, pining them to the wall and effectively folding you in half while he demolishes your holes. All of his praise falling to deaf ears as your head spins with a dizzying pleasure. He lets your forehead fall on his, breathing in your fucked out groans as his thrusts slam your hips and lower back into the wall. You lost it and started cumming the second he man handled you and lifted you with his cock still inside, and now it's his turn for that blinding white pleasure as you grab his big, flexing biceps and drool as you clench around him.

彡★SONG MINGI - 69

song mingi sloppy toppy champion and i don't take criticism on this sorry

he enjoys eating pussy or sucking dick over sex most days, like his soul purpose is to make his significant other feel on cloud 9 (get it they're the 9 and he's the 6 haha okay-)

and when he's balls deep he can't help but go full sub mode and hump like a wild animal searching for primal release

so- head it is

but you want him to feel good too, obviously

and despite his reassurances that making you feel good in turn makes him feel good, you just can't help it

so, a mutual position is found: one were he gets to have his tongue on you, in you, all over you-

and you get to make him an even whinier mess than usual

It turns Mingi on so badly when he gets to taste you, you barely have to touch him. His tongue is deep inside you, hands kneading your ass as he makes a mess of his favorite meal. Hes so lost in the pleasure of giving that he doesn't even realize you've got his cock stuffed in your throat until he cums into the warmth of it. He's always a whiny mess between your legs, and this new position quickly becomes both of your favorites when you continue to tease him through and past his release, and he continues to slurp up the ever flowing arousal that comes from the pleasure of making him cum. It's a never ending cycle really, and neither of you dare complain.

彡★JUNG WOOYOUNG - spooning

now i would say reverse cowgirl because he's obviously an ass man- but that's his second choice

y'all seen that video of him getting all up on yunho on stage from behind ??

yeah that's why i chose this and because it's infecting my brain

something about it just makes him even more feral than usual

everything about it tbh-

let me just *licks pen*

His leg wrapped over your hip and around yours like an anaconda, using his leverage to spread your legs as you're both laid sideways, giving him all the access he could ever want. And boy does Wooyoung take advantage of it, holding you in place with his arms wrapped under your armpits and holding your shoulders tightly so you can't escape the burning heat of his body against yours while he fucks you to the next millennium. In your ass, it's slow and deep, a beautiful painful stretch. In your pussy, fast and shallow and hard, banging your g-spot until you sob. He can feel your ribs wracking with sobs of overwhelming pleasure, and he doesn't stop until you've made a mess of him just as he did you.

彡★CHOI JONGHO - prone bone

big cock!!!!!

there i said it, it had to be done

it took ages and ages to get used to his absolute girth

and even now that you're used to it it still stretches you out and shuts your brain off to put all of your willpower into your cunt so you don't break in half

and he can't help it as his mind begs him to take advantage of that fact when you're being a brat

he knows you turn into a cock whore the minute he stretches you out

and he plans to make use of that fact

Jongho is still so sweet and gentle when punishing you. He doesn't have to be rough, his veiny girth does the job naturally. Usually he'll spread you out nice and wide- not today. Not when you're a brat. He lays you face down and ties your legs together. He can barely shove his member between your pushed together thighs to get inside of you but when he does. It's like the tightest and warmest fleshlight in the world, and it's attached to the person he loves. He will make you forget your own name, just with his goliath friend and slow passionate thrusts.

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juneoirs · 6 months ago

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Hay! Heh, I am a fan about your post, and i was wondering if you can do a bakugou x y/n post where they are 25 and have a 6 year old son named kanji that looks and acts like bakugou, and they are at a grocery store and kanji sees a toy and makes a BIG tantrum embarrassing Y/n, and bakugou let's out his strict father side, aka bakugou is 1 hero, so... yeah.... rich.. THANK YOU 😭

𝓒𝐎𝐏𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄

you loved your husband dearly—even though his attitude sometimes felt like wrangling a feral cat, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. katsuki was a great husband and an even better father. somehow, he managed to juggle being the number one hero, a title that came with endless demands, while still making time for you and your little family.

and then there was kanji. your six-year-old son who was, quite frankly, a miniature katsuki in every sense. the same fiery attitude, the unshakable stubbornness, the sass that could cut sharper than any blade. even the way he’d glare at people—it was uncanny. sometimes you’d swear you were looking at a younger version of your husband.

it wasn’t just his personality, either. kanji’s wild blond hair, sharp crimson eyes, and even the way he crossed his arms when he was annoyed? all bakugou. it was as if the universe had taken katsuki and hit the copy-paste button without consulting you first. you couldn’t help but feel a little robbed—after all, you were the one who carried him for nine months, dealt with the swollen feet, the cravings, the mood swings. and yet, kanji turned out to be a walking, talking katsuki replica.

but honestly? you didn’t really mind. even when kanji’s temper flared, or when he mimicked his dad’s bossy tone, it made your heart warm. because as much as katsuki’s attitude could be a challenge, you loved everything about him. and seeing those same traits in kanji, no matter how chaotic they made your days, was a reminder of the love the two of you had built.

you always knew how much your son looked up to his father—it was written all over kanji’s face. every little thing katsuki did, kanji wanted to do, too. he’d follow katsuki around the house, mimicking his movements, copying the way he crossed his arms or the gruff way he’d say, ‘tch’. kanji’s biggest dream, even at six years old, was to be the number one hero, just like his dad. and katsuki? oh, he ate that up.

“when you’re older, kid, i’ll show ya all the tricks.” katsuki would say, ruffling kanji’s already messy blond hair. “i’ll make sure you’re better than all those extras out there.” kanji’s eyes would light up every time, and the two of them would launch into some over-the-top conversation about training regimens and hero rankings. their bond was undeniable, built on the same fiery ambition and drive that katsuki had passed down to him.

but with that bond came the attitude. katsuki’s attitude. and you swore sometimes it was your curse to deal with two versions of the same fiery temper under one roof. kanji had inherited more than just katsuki’s looks—he had the same sharp tongue, the same unrelenting sass, and the same way of glaring at you like you were personally ruining his day when he didn’t get his way.

you loved your son to pieces, but oh, how your patience was tested.

you swore sometimes you could feel your eye twitch when your six-year-old son had the audacity to sass you. “kanji, clean up your toys.” you’d say, only to be met with an exasperated; “ugh, fine, mom. i’ll do it later, jeez!” complete with an eye roll so dramatic it could win awards.

“watch your tone, kanji.” you’d warn, and from the next room, katsuki would shout, “oi, don’t be talkin’ to your mom like that, you little brat!” and yet, you’d catch him stifling a laugh when kanji wasn’t looking, because deep down, katsuki knew exactly where the kid got it from.

there were days you swore you were outnumbered—two bakugous against one you—but deep down, you couldn’t help but love it. kanji’s sass, as frustrating as it could be, was just another reminder of the fiery, headstrong family you’d built. even if it meant you’d occasionally lose an argument to a six-year-old.

and that’s how you ended up in this situation. you were just trying to get through the grocery trip without any chaos. that was the goal. in and out—grab the essentials and avoid anything that might set off your six-year-old son, kanji. but, of course, life had other plans.

everything had been going smoothly until you turned down the toy aisle, rookie mistake. kanji’s sharp gaze zeroed in on a display of action figures, specifically a limited-edition hero toy that looked suspiciously like dynamight himself. his tiny hand grabbed your sleeve, tugging with determination.

“mom! mom! look! it’s dad’s toy! i need it!”

you gave him a soft smile, crouching down to his level. “kanji, we’re not getting toys today, baby. we’re just here for groceries. you already have tons of toys at home.”

big mistake.

his bottom lip jutted out, his eyes narrowing in frustration. “but i don’t have this one!”

before you could reason with him, he dropped to the floor in a dramatic fashion, kicking his legs and letting out an ear-piercing wail that had heads turning from all directions. your cheeks burned as you tried to calm him, murmuring soft words that fell on deaf ears.

“kanji, stop this right now.” you whispered, glancing around at the growing number of onlookers. “you’re making a scene.”

“i don’t care!” he shouted back, tears streaming down his cheeks. “i want it!”

just as you were about to give up and let the earth swallow you whole, a familiar voice cut through the chaos like a whip.

“kanji.”

you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. katsuki’s voice was low and sharp, the kind that made grown adults flinch—and it had your son freezing mid-tantrum.

before you could say anything else, katsuki—who’d been a few steps behind grabbing something off the shelf—appeared, his towering figure and unmistakable presence shutting down the entire aisle’s noise. his crimson eyes narrowed as he looked at kanji.

“oi, brat. knock it off.” he barked, his voice low and firm, the same tone he used as pro hero dynamight when things got serious. kanji’s sobs faltered for a moment, but he looked up at his dad with that same fiery determination katsuki himself had mastered.

“but daddy! i need it!” kanji tried, sniffling dramatically.

“you don’t need it.” katsuki shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. “what you need is to listen to your mom and stop actin’ like a damn spoiled kid.”

kanji’s bottom lip quivered. “but—”

“no buts.” katsuki interrupted, crouching down to kanji’s level. his tone softened just slightly, though his eyes stayed sharp. “you think screamin’ and cryin’ is gonna get you what you want? not a chance. that ain’t how it works. you don’t get somethin’ just ‘cause you throw a fit. you gotta earn it, got it?”

kanji blinked up at him, his tears slowing as the weight of his dad’s words sank in. he mumbled something incoherent, and katsuki tilted his head.

“what was that?”

“got it.” kanji said more clearly, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“good.” bakugou said, ruffling the boy’s spiky blonde hair before standing back up. he glanced at you, his expression softening slightly. “you okay, mama?”

“yeah.” you muttered, still feeling the lingering embarrassment from the scene. “thanks for stepping in.”

he smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. “you’ve been dealin’ with his crap all day, huh?”

“you have no idea.”

bakugou glanced back at kanji, who was now holding onto your leg, looking thoroughly chastised.“now quit the damn tears and help your mom with the list.” katsuki stood up and ruffled kanji’s messy blond hair, his version of an apology for being so harsh.

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. katsuki turned to you with a smirk, his tone lighter now. “what?”

“strict dad mode, huh?” you teased, trying not to laugh.

“damn right. kid’s gotta learn. can’t have him thinkin’ just ‘cause his old man’s dynamight he can get whatever he wants.”

later, as you loaded groceries into the car, you noticed katsuki handing a small bag to kanji, who lit up with excitement.

“you bought it for him anyway?” you asked, raising a brow.

katsuki shrugged, smirking. “don’t get used to it, kid.” he said to kanji. “this doesn’t mean you get what you want every time.”

kanji nodded enthusiastically, clutching the action figure like it was the greatest treasure in the world.

you rolled your eyes, a fond smile tugging at your lips. “strict dad, my ass.”

“hey.” katsuki shot back, pulling you closer. “i can be strict and still spoil my kid. he is a bakugou, after all.”

#this is so cute #sigh.. i need my man right NEOWW #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsukibakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x you #mha bakugou #mha x reader

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redr0sewrites · 1 year ago

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Thoughts on Lute's tits? I wanna suck on them so baddd I bet they're perfect (WLW pls)

RAHSGSSGAGSGSSG????? feeling very sapphic today have i ever told u i love women

🥀Cw: fluff, smut, boobs, boob kink (?), fem!reader

🥀minors dni

lute never put much weight into her physical appearance, however she does have a wonderful body- she's both muscular and soft, with strong thighs, arms, and a toned stomache yet curvy hips and chest

once she starts dating you, she begins to notice how much you really enjoy her chest, and honestly it flusters her a little, she isn't used to receiving so much attention and she is more than a little touch starved

lute would never admit it but she loves when you lay your head on top of her chest, and when you fall asleep with your face pressed into her boobs? she always wakes up horny, she's probably very sensitive...

before you, lute probably did not get laid very often, hell, she doesn't even masturbate much, making her all the more sensitive once you guys began to get intimate

her boobs are definitely a big erogenous zone, and touching them is one of the quickest ways to turn her on

the first time you started touching her chest was during a heated makeout session, you were straddling her on your bed and you reached up under her shirt to grope her as she fisted a hand in your hair. she let out a sharp moan as you palmed her breast through her sports bra, her entire back arching as you massaged her hardened nipple

lute's entire face flushes with embarrassment at her own sensitivity, yet you find it so so hot. she's usually so uptight and serious, and the fact that she has such a sensitive weak spot only makes playing with her tits more appealing

LUTE IS A SPORTS BRA AND BOXERS LESBIAN AND IT IS SO. FUCKING. HOT. HGHHHHH

lute definitely walks around the house shirtless just to tease you because she knows how irresistible she is

loves when you suck on her tits, she might even have you call her mommy or mistress if you're especially desperate

loves fingering you while you suck on her boobs, the way you drool on her chest and your mind goes fuzzy while you suck on her nipple just from the way her fingers are fucking you? ughhh she eats it up and adores it every time

whenever you ride her strap or thigh, you always take off her shirt and bra to just watch her boobs. sometimes she'll grab you by the hair and force you to suck on them, and i also think she could be into you using a vibrator on her chest... 👀

sometimes when she's especially busy during work or just away from you in general, she'll randomly send you a picture of her perfect tits, or a video of her fucking herself on a dildo, with her tits bouncing perfectly for you to see

lute doesn't wear revealing clothing very often, but sometimes she'll take of her shirt when training leaving her in just a sports bra, and it's actually so hot to watch your girlfriend train, her perfect tits in view as she fights ruthlessly (you really are whipped huh- i cant blame you i am too)

lute will ask you to ride her abs, and then practically beg you to grope her tits while you grind your pretty, aching pussy over her toned stomach

lute loves when you both are scissoring and your chests rub together, she just loves feeling your bare skin against hers

she also enjoys it when you mark her boobs, lute will pretend to be irritated but will secretly admire the hickies on her chest and occasionally take pictures of them to look at later- she loves the idea that you left behind any sort of mark on her, and will absolutely return the favor

when it comes to your boobs lute is a closeted perv, she loooveeesss when you wear low cut tops or lacy lingerie that shows off your assets. whether you have big boobs or small boobs she does not care, she will show your chest unrelenting attention all the same

lute will come up behind you and grope your chest in public, only for a split second so no one notices, and then act innocent when you turn on her

if you have big boobs lute will literally get so turned on when she sees you in something revealing, im talking full gay panic mode as she struggles to look anywhere BUT your chest.

if you have smaller boobs, no worries! lute loves when you don't wear a bra underneath a tighter shirt so she can watch your nipples harden when she teased you, and having smaller boobs only makes it that much more convenient for her to tear off your shirt and play with your breasts

lute loves when you wear necklaces she bought you while you both fuck, and seeing the charm rest between the valley of your breasts makes her a bit feral

lute likes taking photos of your boobs while you both are fucking for her to jack off to later, and definitely has an album in her phone dedicated to pictures of your perfect tits in lacy lingerie, or covered in her bitemarks

"fuck, lute, y'really are perfect," you murmur, pressing soft kisses to her neck. lute doesn't reply, opting to turn her head away from you as her cheeks flush. your onslaught of kisses travels lower down to her collarbone, where you begin to suck a hickey into her pale skin. lute shivers at the sensation of your tongue sucking on her skin, one hand coming to rest on your hips while the other tangles itself in your hair. your lips travel lower, down between the valley of her breasts, only to pause as she lets out a soft whine. your mouth latches onto one nipple, sucking on the hardened bud while you toy with her other breast.

"fuuuck- that feels good," lute gasps, her grip on your hair tightening as you let out a stifled moan. her thigh slips between your legs, pressing up against your aching heat. you let out a soft whine, unable to stop yourself from grinding down against her thigh. lute smirks, her free hand gripping the sheets as you continue pleasuring her chest. your teeth graze over her nipple and she lets out a soft moan, watching as your tongue swirls over the bud. your hips begin to move faster as the ache in your core only grows more unbearable. lute watches a small trail of drool leak from your mouth as you mewl, keening from the pleasure between your legs.

lute's back arches as your legs clamp down around her thigh, the coil in your abdomen snapping as your orgasm washes over you. as you come down from your high, you collapse against her chest, and lute smirks. "aw, don't tell me you're too tired to continue, i'm just getting started baby!" you shoot lute a glare, and she snickers in response. "oh please," you murmur, pinching one of her nipples in between two fingers, watching as a wanton moan slips past her lips as she squirms. "i'm not done yet ~"

sorry the smut is mid i am sleepy and i didnt want it to get too long 🫠 ANYWAYSSSS HOPE U ENJOYED!!! I LOVE LUTE RAHHH

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idkyetxoxo · 5 months ago

Text

Criston Cole - Fascination

Summary - She channels her mother's defiance, catching the dark, dangerous interest of Ser Criston Cole. She finds herself both trapped and intrigued by Criston's magnetic presence. Their volatile interactions spark a dangerous undercurrent of power, pride, and unspoken attraction.

Pairing - Criston Cole x Velaryon reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2236

Masterlist for Criston • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

I was a firecracker—wild, untamable, and unpredictable—a spirit that blazed as fiercely as my mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen.

It was impossible to deny the resemblance between us, not in the fiery gleam of my eyes or the way I carried myself with a defiance so unyielding it could shake the very heavens.

Every part of me—every ounce of my being—was her daughter. I was cut from the same cloth, born of the same untouchable pride, the same unrelenting will that had once sent shockwaves through the realm itself.

That thought, that truth, gnawed at Ser Criston Cole.

He could never quite suppress the feeling that there was something about me that unsettled him to his core.

I had no doubt he still loathed my mother with a venomous hatred that bordered on obsession, yet he could not bring himself to feel the same toward me.

Instead, I was a puzzle he couldn't solve, a living echo of Rhaenyra, and with that echo came a twisted sort of admiration—a dark fascination he could neither deny nor fully understand.

"Jace, I swear it—I will kill you!" I shouted, dagger in hand, eyes burning with fury as I chased after him. He was fast, far too fast for my liking, dodging and weaving behind anything and anyone he could find.

"You can't kill me. I'm your older brother!" he gasped between breaths, narrowly evading me.

"By four minutes, you idiot, that is all!" I barked, leaping across a table, my body a blur of motion as he yelped, scampering to hide behind Ser Harwin, who stood there, wide-eyed, watching me approach like a wolf stalking its prey.

"Princess, perhaps it's time to put the dagger down?" Harwin suggested his voice a mix of caution and bemusement.

He reached out and, with surprising ease, caught me by the waist, pulling me back with one hand while the other gently pried the dagger from my fingers.

Jace, now standing behind Harwin, panted and glared at me, hands on his hips. "Ser Harwin, tame this deranged animal."

"You rat," I snarled, twisting in Harwin's grasp, trying to break free as Jace smirked from behind the knight. I hissed, clawing at the air, desperate to get my hands on him.

Harwin chuckled, his grip tightening to keep me under control. "Enough, you're both making a spectacle of yourselves."

"What is it this time?" Harwin asked, turning his gaze between Jace and me, trying to make sense of the chaos.

I crossed my arms, seething. "This idiot went and told Lord Beesbury's son that I was 'fond' of him," I spat, glaring at Jace. "Now he won't leave me alone."

Harwin turned to Jace with a raised brow. "Prince Jacaerys, is this true?"

Jace hesitated, his face flushing with embarrassment before he nodded, looking sheepish.

"It was only a jest!" he protested, a small, apologetic grin tugging at his lips. But I was beyond the point of finding it amusing.

Before Harwin could react, I broke free from his grasp, launching myself after Jace with renewed fury.

The training yard was my arena now. I moved with the speed of a lioness, and within moments, I had him cornered, my hands gripping his collar as I pinned him to the ground, straddling his chest with an unsettling calm.

"Rat," I spat again, my lips curling into a fierce sneer as I struggled to break free from his futile attempts to wriggle out of my grasp.

"Stop it, you fool," Jace groaned beneath me, but there was no stopping me now.

Some of the knights in the yard had paused in their training, watching with amused grins as the siblings wrestled. I could feel their eyes on us, but it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered in that moment but the tangled mess of adrenaline and fury running through my veins. I wasn't about to stop. Not yet. Not until I had my revenge.

"You think this is funny, do you?" I hissed, my hands tightening around his collar, pulling him closer.

Jace's eyes flickered with a mixture of exasperation and a mischievous spark that only made my blood boil further.

"You started it," he retorted, his voice strained as he squirmed beneath me. "You've always been a wild thing, but I didn't know you were a madwoman."

"Madwoman?" I repeated, voice like steel. "I'll show you mad."

In a flash of rage, I yanked a fistful of his hair, pulling it hard, making him yelp in pain. His face twisted in a mix of surprise and indignation, but I could see him struggling not to let the laughter escape.

He may have been my older brother by a mere four minutes, but that didn't mean I'd ever stop reminding him of who was truly in charge when it came to matters like these.

"You—" Jace groaned, trying to free himself from my relentless grip, his hands futilely swatting at my arms as I tugged at his hair again.

Before he could say another word, I heard the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps approaching.

The air shifted, a heavy presence descending upon us like a dark shadow. It was Ser Criston Cole.

"Enough," his voice boomed, stern and authoritative, slicing through the noise of our bickering. Without hesitation, he reached down and, in one swift movement, lifted me from Jace's chest, pulling me back against his solid frame.

"No!" I fought, thrashing in his grip, desperate to finish what I'd started.

My heart pounded with frustration as I twisted and kicked, but Criston held me with a strength that was nearly impossible to break.

"You're making a spectacle of yourself," Criston's voice was low, controlled, his words a velvet warning against the storm brewing inside me.

I was furious, seething with the need to finish what I had started. My body tensed in his arms as I struggled, the fury in my chest turning into a wild firestorm.

"Let me go," I snarled, my fists pounding uselessly against his arm, but his grip only tightened, preventing me from breaking free.

"Calm down, you dragon," Criston whispered, so quietly that it felt as though his words were meant just for me.

His tone was soothing, almost gentle, though I knew better than to let the softness of his voice lull me into submission.

I froze for a moment, the heat of my anger still burning within me but now tempered by something else.

The way he said it—dragon—it wasn't mocking. It wasn't even a reproach. It was an acknowledgement, one that sent a strange shiver down my spine, like he understood the tempest I carried inside me.

But I refused to give in to his attempt at calming me.

"I don't need your help," I spat, twisting again, my voice thick with defiance. My words were sharp, but there was a flicker of something else in me—something that refused to let Criston see me as anything but untamable.

Criston didn't respond immediately, his hold on me steady and unyielding.

Behind him, Harwin had stepped forward, his eyes flickering between the two of us, sensing the tension that hung in the air like a storm ready to break.

"Princess," he said, his voice a gentle mixture of concern and amusement, "Perhaps you could take a moment to breathe?"

I shot Harwin a quick, burning glance, but his steady gaze did little to quell the fire in me. I was still too caught up in the heat of the moment, my chest rising and falling with the rhythm of my fury.

Jace, who had finally managed to sit up, still looked winded, his breath coming in sharp gasps. His expression was one of mockery, tinged with a grin that set my teeth on edge.

"You didn't need to save me, Ser Criston," he said, brushing dirt from his tunic and straightening his hair with a casual flick. "I had everything under control."

I shot him a venomous look, my lips curled into a silent snarl. Jace had always been infuriatingly annoying as if the world revolved around his every whim.

But before I could say anything to further incite his smugness, Criston's grip on me tightened, a subtle reminder of who held the reins of this chaotic situation.

"Enough," Criston commanded, his voice deep and firm, cutting through the tension. His words were not a plea but an order. "You've poked her enough for one day."

His tone was sharp, as though warning Jace that there were limits to how far his antics would be tolerated. I felt a strange, almost magnetic pull in his words, a sense that he was the one now in control of this tempest, rather than me.

And yet, there was something unnerving in the way he held me, as though he was savouring the very chaos I'd unleashed.

Something that stirred beneath the surface of his calm demeanour—a flicker of fascination that unsettled me more than I cared to admit.

I twisted again in his grip, trying to free myself, but he held firm, his arms as unyielding as stone.

"You don't get to control me," I spat, still struggling, though with far less force than before.

The fight in me was now matched by an odd tension, a reluctant surrender to the way Criston held me, even as my pride screamed for release.

Criston's eyes—dark, unreadable—watched me, his expression too controlled to give anything away.

There was something in his gaze, though, that lingered, as if something about me intrigued him—something that fascinated him.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The world seemed to freeze around us, and I could feel his breath on my neck, a heat that sent a shiver through me despite myself.

My heart raced, but it wasn't just anger anymore. It was something else—something new and unsettling. My pulse quickened in a way that made my skin burn.

"Let me go," I growled, my voice sharper now. "This is beneath you."

It was then that Criston's hand slid up to my shoulder, gently but firmly pressing down. His touch was almost intimate, and it sent a jolt through me, though I refused to show weakness.

He leaned in just enough for me to hear his breath against my ear, his voice low and calm, the faintest trace of something like amusement there.

"Not very proper of you, is it?" I said, my words a pointed reminder of his supposed position of authority, though it only seemed to amuse him further.

I was playing the game now, with a sharp edge to my voice. It was my way of reminding him of where his duties lay, and yet... I couldn't quite ignore how his presence made me feel both exposed and alive in ways I didn't understand.

His response, when it came, was not what I expected. "You don't need to remind me of propriety," he said softly, as though speaking to himself. "I know exactly who you are, Princess."

The words were spoken with an air of both recognition and something else—something more complicated than I could quite place.

And with those words, something inside me shifted, though I couldn't tell if it was a sense of danger or a strange, uncomfortable allure that began to unfurl deep within my chest.

I twisted again, this time more slowly, aware of the weight of his hands around me.

"You're staring at me like I'm some kind of... curiosity," I muttered, bitterly aware of the way he held me so easily. "What do you want from me?"

His grip remained steady, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a shadow of an answer he never quite voiced.

"You," he said quietly, his voice almost too soft to be heard, "are a force of nature."

Before I could reply, Harwin's voice broke through, bringing me back to the present, to the chaos of the yard and the dozen knights who had now turned their attention back to us.

"Ser Criston," Harwin said, his voice an even tone of authority, "Let her go."

Criston didn't move immediately, his gaze never leaving mine. It was as though he was still weighing something in his mind, something he was reluctant to relinquish.

But then, with a deep, measured breath, he released his hold on me, stepping back just enough to allow me to regain my balance.

I could feel the sudden absence of his touch like a void, an absence that left me uneasy in a way I hadn't expected.

I glared at him, my anger not entirely gone, but it was tempered now with a sense of... wariness.

Something had shifted in the space between us, and for the first time, I wasn't entirely sure if I was still in control of the situation.

"Well," I said with an icy edge to my voice, "Not very proper of you, Ser Criston, to attempt to school us when you're so keen on indulging your own fascination."

He said nothing, his face unreadable.

But I saw the subtle tightening of his jaw, the briefest flash of something that could have been amusement—or something darker—before he stepped back further, allowing me to regain my composure.

As I straightened myself, wiping a few stray strands of hair from my face, I knew this moment wasn't finished. Not by a long shot.

Something had been set into motion, a strange tension that would simmer beneath the surface for as long as we both remained near each other.

And for all my efforts to resist it, I couldn't shake the feeling that Criston was watching me now with something more than duty in his gaze.

A/n - Take a shot every time the word fascination is said

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd one shot #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #team green #criston cole #criston cole x reader #criston x reader #hotd criston #ser criston cole #criston cole imagine #criston cole x you

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yanderelinkeduniverse · 1 year ago

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If you write for the cringe links then may I request Yandere! Courage (Animated Link) with a reader that's open to giving him affection?

Like when he constantly asks for kisses and such they just, give them to him and he's soo smitten with them for it?

Of course! This one got to be a little long so it’ll be under the cut, hope it’s satisfying!

Courage, along with Korodai to some degree, is an absolute sucker for affection and that’s all because of his Zelda - just in a backwards way.

See, the thing with Courage and his Zelda is - if we assume the cartoon is completely canon - that they eventually fell into a very predictable cycle that didn’t end until he eventually left to join the Chain and met you. The two of them would face whatever problem Ganon sent their way, bickering all the while, and then he’d go in for a kiss, only to get interrupted.

He’s gotten kisses from Zelda before, he’s gotten hugs and affection from her on a few occasions in fact, but it’s always something he has to earn. He can’t just say “can I have a kiss” and she’ll just give him one without getting embarrassed or offended.

It’s not like this is some great moral failing on her part, but it does mean that Courage ends up being used to half-jokingly asking for some shred of physical affection only to be met with instant rejection. He doesn’t mind, he’s used to this kind of reaction, he’s prepared for this kind of reaction.

What he is not used to is being given what he asks for without any hesitation.

The first time it happens it’s a complete shock to his system, he asks for a kiss and gets one pressed against his cheek almost instantly. And when that happens he’s left standing there for a second, wide eyed and still as a statue, before he blushes and stutters like he’s never been touched before.

And the thing is, it isn’t the kiss itself that makes him so flustered, it’s how easily he’s given it by you. There was no groan or hesitation or anything that indicated that you were doing it begrudgingly.

He asked for a kiss and he got the kiss, and he got it with you being completely willing and even happy to do so.

In the moment, Courage does his best to brush this off with his usual banter and demeanor, but the moment stays in the back of his mind as he keeps replaying it over and over and over. It’s pretty much the only thing that he can think about when he’s around you, wondering if that was just a one time thing.

Eventually, Courage decides to take a risk and ask once more for a kiss, he even points to the cheek you kissed last time. And just like before, you spare him that sliver of affection without a second thought, and he understands that this isn’t a fluke.

It isn’t a world changing revelation by any means but it sets him on the path to moving on from his Zelda with you.

Of course, this doesn’t just end with Courage being simply smitten with you as he treads down a path of unrelenting obsession.

By the time Courage reaches the peak of his madness, he pretty much requires your affection to function. If he feels like he hasn’t received the normal amount of attention from you he’ll become paranoid and spiral inside his own mind, wondering if you’re tired of him.

But instead of confronting you about this, Courage falls back onto old habits and decides that this just means that he needs to prove himself worthy of your love! At the end of the day you may find him returning to camp with either an animal carcass or a token he scavenged from whatever beast he encountered while out.

All the while he has this expectant look on his face, like he’s waiting for you to praise him and give him a hug for all the hard work he did.

If you do, great! Now you have a blood covered, lovesick hero following you around for the remainder of the night(until you force him to go wash up). If you don’t, that’s fine, just don’t be surprised when his attempts to earn your praise become increasingly more outlandish and brutal.

Though, since he’s completely desperate for your approval, you shouldn’t keep him working too long cause it’ll really begin to show from how little he’s sleeping to the deranged muttering under his breath.

Overall, Courage at his best is like a lovesick puppy dog, always following your around in the hopes that you’ll give him some of your love, and at his worst he’s a desperate, deranged man willing to present his severed limbs to you if it’ll earn your affection.

#linked universe #yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x reader #lu courage #cartoon link #acrylic answers

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kurosstuff · 1 year ago

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🍯

Can you do lute x female!reader, reader uses a strapon on lute and wing play is involved. 👀

Oh my~ honestly this- was fun to write- I never wrote wingplay stuff before so! Hopefully you enjoyed it~?

Warning(s): wing kink, strap on use(on lute), vanilla but not at the same time? Idk. Lutes rude at the begining(she's just nervous) overestimated(lute) couple mentions of "breeding"/"being bred"

Im- gonna jump right into it- HELP I- KINDA WENT ALMOST ALL IN ISH?

Lute x reader

It took a while to get Lute to even THINK of bottoming. Much less allow you to even use a strap on her. She's more then happy to use it on you but for her? The thought didn't exactly appeal to her. But- promising to try it once and never bring it up unless she allowed it(that and a bunch of.. kisses) then? She entertained the idea

And that's how she was. On your shared bed with a deep scowl, completely naked. If it weren't for the deep flush on her face. And how her wings puffed up, threatening to expand? You'd assume she was pissed(she was, but that's besides the point)

"The fuck is taking so long?" She growled our glaring at rhe bedroom door "God lute. Calm down, won't you, baby? I'm making sure it's all strapped on!" At that? She growled, looking away with a deep snarl.

A couple minutes passed by before the door finally opened "fucking finall-" her words cut in her throat seeing the toy. Not like the one she uses no- it was so much bigger "what the fuck is that? That's what you picked?" She growled out glaring at you flushed darkly making you smirk moving close to her

"What~? Lute, you scared?" You teased, kissing her, gently biting at her lips, ignoring her protests of 'hell nos!' Sighing "babe.. if you don't wanna do this we don't gotta. We can- like cuddle or something?" Making her stop. As if weighing jer options before shaking her head

Grumbling, she huffed. "No. Its.. fine. Just you picked a bigger one then I tho- oh fuck you don't get so fucking smug" she snarled out glaring at you flushed embarrassed of the whole thing snickering kissing her again

"Sorry baby~ now... can you bend over for me~? Wanna see those gorgeous wings of yours~" Purring out pouring liquid onto the toy watching her do exactly what you asked of her smirking at how they fluttered at the praise "you always get like this when I compliment your wings~" getting onto the bed feeling her entrance gently "excited I see~" Purring out seeing her wings fluttered pushing the tip on her entrance slowly pushing into her stopping half way

"Fuck~," Lute whimpered out, grinding back against you. Hiding her face into the pillow "more~ g-give me more~" feeling you push all the way in, smirking down at her. Moving to hold her waist pounding into her gently

"Easy now lute~," you purred, watching her under you moaning loudly clawing at the sheets. "I've got you~ gonna get faster, ok baby?" Pounding into her faster - harder. Holding her waist, squeezing her gently panting

"Would think you're trying to breed me, Dove~?" She gasped out, bending more bouncing against her, making you hum in thought, biting your lip at how much of a "switch' just occurred. How she's eager to submit to you all the sudden

"Maybe I want to breed you, Lute~." Pounding faster into her ignoring how the bed shook under the both of you barely starting to hit the wall knowing a bit of roughness? She could handle "would you blame me?" You purred out, watching her wings fluttering, flapping slowly.

Smirking at a "cruel" thought, "i wonder~" sensitive here, too?" Moving a free hand to rub at her wings, going all over her delicate wings, pushing all the tight places, hearing her sob moaning louder for you."yeah~ that sensitive, huh baby?" Purring out your pace unrelenting as you took her in your bed.

Watching her wings expand as if to show off to you. As if to signal to you about being a good mate for you. "God gorgeous baby~ yeah? Wanting to mate me, yeah?" Pounding rougher into hrr leaning to kiss where her wings met "wow~ shaking this much?" Seeing her nod so drunk off you from being overestimated. "God~ can't wait to breed you~"

Ever so gently leaning to bite at a part of her wings watching her arch her back, screaming your name out, smirking kissing the mark cooing "couldn't help myself gorgeous ~ I'm sorry" pounding faster watching as she slumped laying under you sobbing out from the pleasure "more~" hearing a broken whimper from her. Ignoring how the bed shook now, hitting the wall harshly creaking under you both from the unrelenting pace.

Panting heavily moving to tower over her kissing her neck praising her as you marked her ip moving faster in her "doing so good~ you close my love?" Purring against her neck watching her nod humming, they smirked, pounding faster in her before humming, rubbing her wings, watching her shake.

"Go ahead~"

At that? With a loud sob screaming out your name- lute came. Slumping down under your wings popping up, spreading as you cooed gently slowly pulling out, "That's my good girl~ I've got you~" whsipering, moving to clean her up gently laying next to her "liked it Lute?"

Grumbling glaring, she moved, cuddling up beside you, kissing you gently. "It was perfect~" Purring out panting wings fluttering .After I catch my breath, I'll pay you back my dove~", making you flush, smirking nodding

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin lute #lute x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #EVENT #lute smut

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marketfreshfics · 1 year ago

Text

Like Rabbits | Garreth x f!MC

Header image: @newbienewness ✦ 4327 words ✦ NSFW content (MDNI), aged-up characters, unnamed female MC (no use of y/n), alcohol consumption, admission of feelings/slight proposition, masturbation, spanking, p in v, light dom/sub elements ✦ Plot? What plot? This was honest to god just an excuse to write about Garreth in a rabbit costume ✦ Read it below the cut or on AO3

Easter festivities were a rarity at Hogwarts, yet when an opportunity for revelry arose, the seventh-years seized it with unbridled enthusiasm.

For generations, a pact among students governed the hosting duties on such occasions. The house with the fewest points bore the responsibility (and, by consequence, the aftermath) of throwing the celebration. Slytherin, enduring a dismal streak, found themselves reluctantly poised to shoulder the burden once more, the third time not necessarily the charm. As the soon-to-be graduates gathered amidst their diminished house, they sampled the exotic hors d'oeuvres with subdued chatter, their ranks thin and their spirits somewhat subdued, shooing a curious first year who had risen from bed to visit the loo.

You couldn't help but notice the lacklustre effort put forth, evident in the half-hearted swirling of your drink and the telltale lines of boredom etched upon your brow. Natsai, however, who displayed a downright lackadaisical disinterest, was already poised to depart for the evening. "I do think the Slytherins should dedicate more focus to their house standings to avoid committing another crime such as this party."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips in response, prompting an eye-roll from Imelda as she fished a hair from her drink. "Blame Sallow, we’re still recovering from his little bridge stunt."

The memory evoked a ripple of amusement; the viaduct bridge, unimposing as ever one moment, became a terrifying tangle of devil’s snare that multiplied out of control, requiring several days' worth of Confringo to eradicate.

"I’ll let you know I’m still working through detention for that." Sebastian, the culprit in question, shot a wry grin as his classmates riled with snickers, much to his chagrin. "I was only practicing the Geminio charm for Ronen’s assignment! At his recommendation, mind you, I performed it outside on a plant! I swear, Professor Weasley was just trying to-"

"Did someone mention Weasley?"

Heads swivelled towards the echo of an announced arrival from the staircase, and before questions and curiosities could be posted, Garreth Weasley sauntered down the spiral steps wearing a riot of pink cotton with two lapin ears sprouting from his crown. The seventh-years all hollered and laughed at the sight, save for Leander, who appeared wholly unamused by his fellow Gryffindor’s getup. "The bloody hell, Garreth?"

"What?" He grinned at the tall redhead. "Surely we couldn't have a proper Easter festivity without a rabbit present? Where’s the fun in that?"

Leander's jab echoed into the rim of his goblet before he took a sip. "Is that what’s been stuffed under your bedframe for the past month? You look ridiculous."

Undeterred, Garreth opted instead to, well, air his abundance of comfort. "Yes, but I feel incredible. Quite breezy down here, innit?"

Spiked cider sputtered from Sebastian then, dribbling down his chin. "Are you wearing anything under that poacher’s pelt?"

"Isn’t my smile enough for you, Sallow?"

Yet, despite yourself, your curiosity persisted, occasionally wandering to the vicinity of his lap. Heat rose to your cheeks, unrelated to the effects of alcohol, as you observed the subtle jostle there. It was a wager, you thought, with a flush of embarrassment tinting your cheeks, that Garreth Weasley remained, by all accounts, an honest man.

"What even is this fabric?" Natsai protested, pinching the fold of fluff near her housemate’s bicep. "It appears to be rather flammable."

"Now that would provide ample entertainment for the evening." Ominis chimed in nearby, his attention still fixed on his wand-led readings, seemingly uninterested in the fraternization.

"One at a time, darlings." Garreth, the ever-enthusiastic lion, swung a wicker-weave basket to and fro, reminiscent of some fictional harbinger of joy. Nestled within the dried grass padding were several small bottles of firewhisky, a smattering of cauldron cakes, and various other treats from Honeydukes. "I knew the Slytherins were in desperate need of a Pepperup, so I've come to spread the merriment. Snakes enjoy chocolate frogs, don't they?"

"I thought snakes typically ate rabbits," Imelda quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Garreth didn't miss a beat in his response to her jest. "If I were none the wiser, Reyes, I'd wager you'd like to take a hop around my carrot—"

A muttered expletive signalled the departure of the quidditch captain, leaving behind a chorus of laughter.

You found yourself enthusiastically joining in, relishing the unexpected amusement of the evening. As the crowd dispersed, you approached Garreth to select a treat of your own.

"Happy Easter, beautiful." Garreth's voice dipped low, laced with a suggestive tone that he often employed in your company. "Care to take a seat on the Easter bunny's lap and tell me what you want to find in your basket tomorrow morning?"

"That's Santa Claus," you teased in return.

"My mistake."

The flirtations between Garreth and yourself had become somewhat of a tradition throughout your Hogwarts enrollment, though they never progressed beyond playful banter. Here and now, with alcohol’s nack for unbarring inhibitions, the thought of advancing motions with the cheeky Gryffindor didn’t seem like such an unreachable feat.

"You seem rather warm in that outfit," you observed, noting the slight sheen above his brow.

Garreth chuckled. "It's rather steamy in here, indeed. But not to worry, I can… ventilate if needed." Handing you a small package of honeycomb with a coy smirk, he added, "Here, I think you'll enjoy this one."

Before you could inquire further, Garreth was already moving through the lively crowd, intent on distributing more sweets and cheers. With a huff of amusement, you tore into the package of honeycomb, only to notice some writing on the pleat of the wrapper.

'Do you know what rabbits are known for? I think we could do it better. Tell me when you’re ready, and we can hop off for the night.'

The implications hit you like lightning.

Copious procreation.

Flammable or not, your gaze practically burned through the back of Garreth's fluffy pink ensemble as he disappeared into the throng of students.

---

While the evening bled into night, even with the bolstering presence of libations coursing through your veins, the mere idea of approaching Garreth at the night's end had your insides all tangled. Harmless flirtations aside, this was a full-on proposition. What if the request was meant for someone else?

Then again, he’d deliberately dedicated the honeycomb to you…

---

Somewhere between a refilled goblet and the honeycomb wrapper now tucked into your brazier like some love letter from a sweetheart posted overseas, your prior suspicions of Garreth’s costume being rather warm were confirmed. The redhead retracted an arm inside the suit, while the other unzipped the front to his navel, exposing his bare chest as he tied the sleeves around his hips.

At that moment, propriety yielded to fascination, and any pretense of restraint evaporated as you found yourself captivated by the contours of his soft yet sculpted physique. A twinge of envy stirred within you, brought on by the admiring glances of the two Hufflepuff witches directed his way from the sidelines.

Garreth leaned against the wall, a slight trickle of sweat central to his chest, freckles all flushed from alcohol and flirtations, and seeing the wizard looking entirely dishevelled in his buzzed state did something truly wonderful for your inhibitions. Downing the rest of your pep talk, you crossed the common room, approached him near the enchanted piano, and promptly cupped a hand to his ear.

"I’m ready to… hop off, for the night." You whispered, the heat carried with it curling into the shell of cartilage.

"Yeah?" Garreth’s grin settled into a keen sort of coy, and his gaze went all honed-in and confident, leaning into you with some additional insinuations in those glassy greens of his. "Sure you don’t want to linger a bit longer in this charming mildew?"

His stray dig was not lost on Sebastian, who promptly threw Garreth a pointed warning without threat behind it, bopping an ear of his fuzzy getup.

"Settle down, Sallow," Garreth chortled, relieving his cup of its contents before boldly taking your hand. “We know the snakes always host the most splendid of shindigs.”

A chorus of wolf-whistles heralded your departure, along with someone’s award-winning remark about calling Garreth ‘Thumper.’

Down the adjacent hallway you went, past another couple that was long since lip-locked, and the firewhisky fuzz in you sought the very same. At the end of the hallway that connected to the Slytherin dormitories, coincidentally located at the intersection of friendship and something more, you shoved Garreth against the wall and claimed that magical mouth of his with your own.

For all the smart comments, the witty banter, the years of flirtations that stacked the deck and colored your cheeks, Garreth melted against you, a mess of vulnerability and desire. His body responded eagerly, exploring newfound territories with a hunger born of longing. Eventually, his body caught up to the priority of the situation, wrapping both arms around you with eager motions and traveling to all the locations he’d only dreamt of visiting before.

You were moving then—perhaps another student was evicting you from the open area, nudged aptly to ‘get a room’—but at one point or another, between lips, between moans, and those magical, heated renditions of your name, you found yourselves in a vacant dormitory.

"Who’s room is this?" You pondered breathlessly.

Garreth didn’t seem to give two shits as you all but crashed into the bedroom, nearly toppling an oil lamp, sending it teetering on its pegs as you collided with a bedpost. "Don’t know, don't care."

And that conversation promptly died in between your mouths, somewhere in the tangle of your tongues, as Garreth captured your wrists, holding them above your head as he trailed kisses along your throat. Plush, pink lips planted sweet kisses, while the scuff of end-of-day stubble bit friction in their wake.

"Garreth," You murmured with a shallow draw of breath. "You… you fancy me?"

"Oh, we’re well past fancying, love." His tone dipped back into devious territory, the same place where feelings like desire and longing and, goodness, arousal held court. “I’m onto the craving stages of our little tryst, myself. And right now… I need you.”

In response to his confession, your leg instinctively hitched over his hip, eliciting a low groan as he captured his bottom lip between teeth, a rewarding gesture that spoke volumes without a word.

His grip on your wrists was released, instead seeking the supple curve of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you toward the nearest bed. Settling you down with a sense of urgency, the mattress dipped with his company, and he enveloped you in his embrace, hungering for more of the kisses that fueled his wet dreams.

Garreth pulled back, settling on his knees above you, a pleased grin playing on his lips as he panted, as if suddenly realizing something, perhaps in response to the whisper of a zipper against his bare chest. "Why aren't you naked yet?"

You laughed, mischief set free as you met his gaze. "Excuse me? What about romance? Shouldn't you be wooing me or, I don’t know, engaging in some foreplay?"

The redhead chewed his lip, and it stretched with eagerness. “Of course. Where are my manners? Though I’m still taking all of your clothes off right now, I’ve waited long enough for my Easter present.”

"You don’t exactly give gifts for Easter."

There wasn’t much room left for protest, however, as Garreth all but tore your skirt from your waist, his expression telling of the countless times he’d imagined doing so, perhaps somewhere into his fist or while soaking in the shower. The billow of linen and cotton was discarded with such haste that you thought he’d taken some unspoken offence to the garment, but then his efforts were being spent on tugging your underwear down. A breath born from an expletive ensured you were plenty wet for the introduction.

Verdant irises were engulfed by pupils blown wide, as Garreth drank in the sight of your sex. "God… my imagination could never."

"Like what you see, do you?" You giggled nervously, knees bent and pressed together in honest reflex.

"You have no bloody idea how much I like what I see," he replied with a grin, his gaze tracing every contour of your exposed skin. "...what am I supposed to do now?" It was his turn for a nervous chuckle, palming whatever flesh he made contact with, his demeanour akin to that of a tourist in need of directions.

A soft moan rewarded his efforts. "Whatever you desire... I'm yours for the night, remember?"

And to seal the proverbial deal, you peeled the ruched top up and over your head, unhooked your brazier immediately after, and bit the web of your cheek as you expedited it to the floor, joining the rest of your clothing expenditures.

The honeycomb wrapper fluttered onto your stomach, and Garreth raised an amused brow. "A fond little souvenir, hmm?"

"It’s sentimental, shut up." You purred, quieting his jests with bare chests pressed, and he saw no room for further comment on the matter. Garreth was all mouth then, kissing from lips to chin to lobe as he tutted. "Before we truly make like rabbits and fornicate," He couldn’t help the huff that followed, hearing himself say such a big boy word, "there's something I want to do first."

"Tell me," you urged quietly, fingers tangled in fiery copper curls. "Tell me what you want to do to me..."

"Well, for starters..." He kissed a breadcrumb trail from your neck to your shoulder, "I want to hold you in my arms and get you off."

"Oh god," anticipation drenched your mound and arched your back. "Yes, Garreth, please…"

The sound of your voice sent shivers down his spine, confirming the suspicions he had harboured for months. Curated Gryffindor courage made his heart swell, and his hands trailed down to both hips, maneuvering you around until your back pressed against his chest, playing little and big spoons. Garreth's lips found their way to the curve of your ear, where teeth and lips took turns teasing your lobe. "Comfy?"

"Very much so," you mewled, surrendering to his magnetic presence, your bare back pressed against his chest while you lay on your side. Your hips instinctively moved in synchrony with his, firm against fluffy pink fabric slung low on his waist, and there it is—that stiffness underneath the plush that has your mouth watering and your groin humming. A snort erupted from you at the reminder of the rabbit costume, partially undressed, entirely inappropriate.

"What's that, sweetheart? Gonna share with the class?" He tsked then, and a mischievous grin adorned his face as he felt the delightful pressure of your hips against his own. "Might I… take a dip?"

"Yes," you breathed, already writhing, already wanting, even though his exploration had only just commenced. "Please, Garreth... please..."

And so Garreth learned a lot about himself then; your pleading revealed a new kink. He nuzzled your neck with a mischievous grin, his touch growing more daring as a hand dipped lower; as soon as his fingers gently caressed the carnal crux between your thighs, your neck arched a bit harshly, but that was just fine; you were too absorbed in thoughts of holy fuck, Garreth is rubbing my clit.

The prompt response surprised him, but your brash expression had an undeniable allure. A playful smile appeared on his face as he leaned in and whispered in your ear. "Merlin, this wet for me already? So generous..."

"Can’t believe I’m getting fingered by someone in a bunny costume.”

“Fingered by me in a bunny costume, thank you.” Garreth began sucking over your jugular to elicit a sweet little cry from your mouth, and with the flesh popping audibly, no doubt where a bruise would bloom, he whispered, "You're going to feel splendid around me, beautiful.”

"I want you, Garreth." Grinding your pelvis into both his palm and his dick certainly conveyed as much. It echoed the heat that built over months of minute gestures, sidelong glances, and jokes made at each other’s expense.

"I want you, too." His hand moved with purpose, with three fingers flat against your bud, dipping to explore your intimate depths while those tactful lips brushed the upward jut of your neck. An arm snaked under you and around your middle, palming a breast with a multitasking maneuver that made you squirm.

"Garreth," you whimpered as he caressed your wetness, throwing petrol on the fire within you. You found a rhythm that harmonized with the symphony he composed. "Yes, yes..."

"What is it, baby?" His thumb made love to that throb and swell of nerves, eyes closed in concentration as he leaned closer, exhalation hot on your shoulder.

"I want to come for you," you rasped, testifying that which sought to consume you. "Please… faster…"

Garreth's explorations intensified, and the sound of your slick arousal punctuated each movement. An almost accomplished smile curled his lips, relishing the subtle power he held over you. "Do my fingers feel good?" His voice danced all hushed and seductive, the grate of alcohol and lust on his throat.

You were lost in the whims of his touch, unfolding in his hands. As he quickened the pace of his fingers, your body arched along the river banks of abandon, edging closer to release. "I know something that would feel even better."

He possessed an innate knowledge of the words that would stoke the fire within you. "We’ll get there," he whispered, his breath hot on your racing pulse. "First… come for me."

"Yes," you whimpered, your voice trembling with the impending climax that welled within. His finger movements, an audacious symphony between soaked folds, carried you ever closer. "I'm… I'm… "

As your cries of pleasure came forth with volume, Garreth focused his efforts on your clitoral hood, applying firm pressure as opposed to frantic fingering, intent on prolonging the spasms. At the same time, your body practically sang his praises, and he offered the same in return. "Good girl. Now... are you ready for me?"

You panted, flipping over to face him with a breathless peppering of kisses, flush with gratitude. “Keep calling me a good girl like that, and I will be,” you breathed, gently biting his bottom lip.

He was quick on the draw, bless him. "Good girl.”

Eager motions resumed, bodies practically clinging together. "I want you inside me, Garreth." You squirmed underneath, anticipating his taking. “Let me be your good girl; take me from behind…”

Without hesitation, Garreth shifted you onto your stomach faster than his brain could sort sense of the idea. He grabbed you by the hips, repositioning you on the bed with precision, with his trademark combination of dominance and fondness. You stabilized on elbows, swaying your hips like the comely creature you were.

"Is this what my good girl wants?" he smirked, devouring the gradual parting of your legs, the invitation for him to claim what is rightfully his.

"Yes," you practically pleaded, thrumming to feel the weight of his hands upon your hips, to experience his penetration. "Please, baby... spank me."

He processed the request with his mouth slightly agape in surprise at your words. No one had ever made such a request to him before. "Are you asking me to spank my good girl?"

A coy nod over your shoulder and a bitten lip conveyed your consent. "Yes, please... I'll be good..."

"Say it properly.” The command was all supplicant and alluring, while ravenous hands sampled your inner thighs.

“Please, Garreth…” You whimpered, practically dripping. “Please, spank me.”

"That's better..."

A palm thunderclapped across your rear with unexpected force. Another followed in quick succession, harder than the first, and you cried a simpering symphony. Hips swayed and rutted, knees threatened to buckle, and your back arched as heat rooted deep. "More, please, baby..."

His breath hitched as he took in your heartfelt plea, spurred on by something that mingled and met with testosterone, compelling him to venture into unexplored realms, a captive yearning for sweet freedom. Garreth employed the enthralling control he had over you as he gripped your hips possessively, while his palm branded your buttocks.

"So good," you gasped, and each contact drew forth a garbled moan.

A mischievous smirk played across the lion’s face, as he darkened at the welting consequences of his actions. He prolonged the inevitable. "Oh, is that so?" His hand descended once more, his touch deliberate, unhurried.

"Yes, oh god..." You yearned for a proper fuck, to have your hips hammered, longed to stretch intimately around him. With your bottom lip caught between teeth, you glanced back at Garreth, exuding an eager and willing demeanour. "Baby, please..."

The taut heat of his cock nestled against your rear. Nimble fingers curled into your waist, drawing you closer, and then Garreth discovered the full extent of your arousal. "So wet for me..."

"Only for you, baby..." You pushed your hips back, feeling entirely too empty all of a sudden. "Garreth, I need you inside of me… please, take me... "

"Oh, I'm going to take you, all right."

And then, in a display of vulnerability, he guided you closer with hesitant hands seeking comfort on your thighs. With a shared breath, Garreth aligned himself, gathering warmth and wetness in kind on his cock, and announced his entry with an audible exhale.

Like a reflex, your back arched, writhing serpentine along his length as Garreth bottomed out. He provided experimental thrusts, gradually quickened the pace, and soon you were sucked into a beautiful pattern.

A primal moan parted lips in an unfiltered expression of longing as he delved deeper, as Garreth bucked from behind. Bending down, he pressed an enthusiastic kiss to your nape, grunting with the forceful motion of his fuck. With every thrust, his lips on your neck sent shivers down your spine, and with how desperate he was to hold you close, Garreth clutched you close and brought your torso upright, swaying in rhythm, your bodies making sense of one another’s.

"Oh, baby girl…" The wizard purred into your ear with a strong forearm clamped over your torso and a firm grasp tangled in your hair. He tugged at your strands as he increased his pace, the pricks of pulled nerves eliciting a gasp. His grip across your midsection anchored you to his chest, the tight hold leaving crescent marks of possession into the swell of a breast. A lovely, lewd sound escaped his throat as your hips began to meet his movements, the overwhelming pleasure consuming him entirely.

Your back pressed against his chest, and you contorted in all the right ways. With a head tilted back, your sights set on the heavens, surrendering to the moment. "Fuck me, baby. Hold me tight..."

"I’m not letting go," The words were all breath, the sound caught on the brimming heart stuck in his throat, as he leaned down to bite your neck. "You're... you're mine..."

Your hand instinctively snaked between your legs, choking your clit between index and middle digits. The intense sensation of Garreth's plumbing your depths brought you to the brink, surpassing your wildest expectations. "Oh god, Garreth, I'm... I'm coming...”

A shriek was stifled as you came hard and raw, your abdomen releasing pressure buildup as you rocked against Garreth’s cock like it was your saving grace, coaxing and prolonging your release as you disengaged from body and mind, almost going slack in his arms. The announcement, the tightness of your orgasm propelled him fuck to his full potential, chorused by your cries. He teetered on the brink, his equilibrium delicately balanced as he held onto your hip, thrusting deeper inside with each exhalation, his movements deliberate and steadfast.

The bed protested audibly as you rocked on your knees, punctuating your passionate connection. You coaxed him with a voice still raw and made all the more ragged from your climax. "Come, baby…"

Your words were the catalyst of his coming. Garreth buried his face into the back of your neck, breathing ragged and erratic as the boundless excitement that you built within him finally burst forth in a breathtaking culmination. He surrendered to an overwhelming release, spilling himself deep within.

Collapsing forward, he pressed you into the bed, his body weight a comforting presence upon you. You let out a sound of satisfaction as he settled on your back, your inner thighs slick with evidence of your shared release. An inward sigh of fulfillment escapes you while you tilt to plant a kiss on his cheek. "God, that was even better than the first."

"You’ve rendered me boneless, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder. “I’m utterly spent.”

You couldn't help letting out a soft chuckle; your fingers naturally entwined with his as you both shifted onto your sides. When your eyes met, they reflected a sense of contentment and gratification. "Me too," you admitted, your voice soothing in the quiet aftermath. "Spent and drained..."

Garreth's hand tightened around yours, conveying tenderness. His lips curled into a gentle smile, a sparkle of admiration flickering in his gaze. Compelled by magnetism, you gravitated close, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. "Stay," you murmured, longing to extend this moment of closeness.

The chuckle he responded with caught you off guard until you realized that you hadn’t the foggiest idea whose bed you just expressed your feelings in. "Ah, I see," you laughed, begrudgingly reaching for your clothes.

As you tugged each article of clothing on, Garreth adjusted the rabbit costume back into place, and you devolved into a fit of giggles. “Did you even take off that ridiculous get-up?”

“Listen, love,” Garreth smirked, claiming your chin with impish intent. “I just fucked the most beautiful woman in our year wearing this. I won't soon be criticizing its charm.”

You leaned closer to kiss him, as breathless as he made you feel. “Fair enough.”

#garreth weasley x reader #hogwarts legacy #garreth weasley smut #garreth weasley fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hl fanfic #garreth x mc #sebastian sallow #natsai onai #ominis gaunt #leander prewett

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