#f: x light

[latenightdaydreams]

Christmas Party w/ König

MDNI🔞

Master List✍🏽

>cw:fem/afab, drinking, p in v, public-ish sex

🎅

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König loses a bet with Horangi and comes into work dressed as Santa Claus during the small Christmas party being held in the common room. While everyone is sitting around and eating food while chatting, a heavy silence falls upon the room when König’s heavy footsteps disrupt the festivities. 

In the doorway he stands with a scowl hidden beneath his cheap Santa beard. It’s the most anyone has seen of his face before, the only reason everyone knows it’s König is because of his massive size. The silence is disrupted by Horangi’s loud cackles; one arm wrapped around his abdomen as he points with his other hand. 

“You look so fucking stupid!” Horangi nearly falls off of his chair. 

König says nothing just walking in with a velvety sack over his shoulder. He walks up to Horangi and simply pushes his head to the side in anger. “Shut up.” He hisses. 

You sit there giggling softly. König notices, blushing softly. He clears his throat trying to push down the butterflies he always gets when he’s near you. Walking past you, he sits on an empty chair and leans back. 

Most people in the room go back to their small conversations, but you, with the courage of heavily spiked eggnog, stand from your seat and make your way over to König. He looks up at you with a surprised look on his face. Before he can say anything to you, you sit on his lap and place an arm around his shoulder. 

“Hey there, Santa.”

“Hallo…” König’s voice cracks as he looks into your glimmering eyes. 

Horangi looks at you sitting on his lap with astonishment. 

“Am I on the naughty or nice list this year?” You ask giggling. 

That giggle. 

“You…” his eyes unintentionally drop to the curve of your breasts, “are on the nice list.” 

“Am I?” You reach out and tug on his beard, lightly letting it snap back against his face. 

“Ja…”

König can feel his cock beginning to grow erect as you wiggle on his lap slightly. The side of your leg rubbing against the crotch of his red Santa pants. His heart thumps in his chest as he tries his best to act unaffected by your presence. 

“That’s a shame. I wanted to be on the naughty list.”

“Why would you want that?” He asks, chuckling slightly. 

You giggle at the sound of his nervous chuckle. The light in the room makes his pale blue eyes shimmer in yours. His cock twitches slightly, bumping your leg and causing your attention to drift downwards. 

“Maybe I wanted Santa to punish me.”

“Punish you?”

“Punish me.” You lean closer to him as you speak, the smell of the alcohol on your lips wafts to his nose. 

König stands, grasping the plump flesh on your ass and hips, fingers digging in, as his hips ram into yours at a quick pace. His red pants dropped and resting around his ankles. Your loud drunken moans fill the room as your breasts bounce free from your blouse.

“Naughty girl.” König growls as his wide palm comes down to spank your ass, leaving a red mark in its wake. 

“Fuck yes! Punish me with your fat cock!” You cry out as you feel the stinging burn from the slap. 

“Perfect fucking ass…” Is all you’re able to understand before König begins to speak in German. Telling you how long he’s been wanting to feel you wrapped around his cock, see you underneath him. 

A smile crosses your face as your body feels as if it’s floating on a cloud of pure ecstasy. You can feel yourself drop down the side of your leg each time his cock pulls out before pulling a pathetic moan from you once he buries himself back inside of you. Your head turns to look at him, the Santa beard barely even in his face, exposing his scarred handsome face. His eyes meet yours and he simply smirks before grasping a handful of your hair and forcing your face down. 

Outside the door Horangi and a few other soldiers stand with jaws dropped and looks of shock on their faces. The sound of the creaking desk, flesh on flesh, and orgasmic pleasure pour out into the hallway where they stand.

[angeluvvs]

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴: first date by blink-182

a/n: based on the rec "Natalie x shy reader dating fluff" @ashtonslefb0ob

content: secret relationship ooo, just straight fluff (as per request, i got you, babe), just a tad bit of angst, nightmares, 1.5k words

sweet secret / natalie scatorccio

now, since when did you ever care about soccer before? and what in the hell made you start? well, the answer is currently weaving a ball between her legs as she laughs on the field, lines of sheen sweat covering her forehead.

one of her signature cocky laughs falls from between her lips as she ends up kicking the ball past van, straight into the goal.

you had become assistant to misty, always helping out with setting up the field and coming along to away games as an honorary equipment manager. all for your girl.

"jesus, nat. again?" taissa says from the edge of the field, panting as she comes closer to nat, who was absolutely beaming at the third goal she made in a row.

she shrugged, fiddling with the ring on her finger that you had given her. "i just have my good luck charm on me today." her words are punctuated by a smile and a wink to you in the bleachers. and it's safe to say you are absolutely preening at the attention.

after about fifteen more minutes of watching her practice, coach martinez calls it for the day, and she immediately makes her way over to you.

"hey, baby." she whispers, leaning in close enough that only you could hear her. "how'd i do?"

your entire body is practically thrumming at the proximity and the gravelly rasp of her voice. it was one of your favorite things about her, how she always managed to just sound good. "mhm, you were great, nat."

she smiled, her fingers trailing over the cool edge of the bleachers, the space between you two growing smaller and smaller with each passing second. "just great? come on, you can do better than that, doll."

if you were blushing before, it was about ten times worse now. your fingers fall to your lap, messing with the hem of your pants as you glare at her through your brows, silently begging her to knock it the hell off. "you were phenomenal," you said through a smile, seeming to please her as she leaned away from you and grabbed her bag, plucking your fingers straight out of your lap and tugging you down the bleachers.

just like every day, nat walks you home (like a sweetheart, might i add). her hand is interlinked with your own, in typical 'best friend" fashion, of course. no one knows yet about the two of you being together, but she swears that she will tell people eventually. eventually just seems years away whenever you have to hide your love for one of the best things that's ever happened to you.

"so, the party tonight, are we all set to go?" she asks, her voice pulling you from the momentary wandering your mind had become so accustomed to.

a frown etches onto your lips, a gentle sigh falling from between your teeth. this was one of the many joys of high school for most, but for you? it was a patriarchal nightmare. and before you could even begin to voice your complaints, natalie beats you to it.

"we don't have to go," she reassures, which immediately sparks a rambling from you.

"nat, no--" that she is infinitely quick to cut off.

"it's fine, babe. we can have a sleepover at your place." she says, eyes coated with thick, smudged eyeliner meeting your own in the most sympathetic way possible. she knows how bad those parties can be for you and even feels slightly bad she had pushed to go to one with you in the first place. "we can watch some shitty romcom and make out and have the best night of our lives, no party included."

her words elicit a small warmth blooming in your chest, the tug of her hand in yours grounding you as you offer a small nod. "okay."

the copy of bound that you borrowed from your parents is finishing up as you pull away from nat, breathing heavily and laughing at some stupid comment she made. both of you are in a set of pjs you let her borrow, the bright colors looking way too good on her.

you sigh and check your clock on the side of the bed, seeing that it was well past 1 in the morning.

"shit," you mumbled, picking up the half-empty bowl of popcorn and bringing it to the kitchen as she followed, her steps ever so slightly hinting at a tired linger.

her arms wrap around your waist as you dump out the rest of the popcorn, nuzzling her face into your neck with a gentle murmur. "you're so soft."

a giggle releases from your chest, rolling your eyes as the bowl is forgotten entirely, and she drags you right back to your room. you could never get too far away from her. she shoves you down onto the bed, draping all of her limbs over your own, small kisses pressed to your neck as she mumbles something about being tired.

the peace of such a domestic moment has you feeling the same way, placing a gentle kiss on her head as you both drift into sleep.

the next day, you two wake up and board the plane, both still feeling the aftereffects of your grogginess in full effect against your bodies. a sharp jolt of the plane has you feeling slightly more awake, anxiously eyeing nat.

"did you feel that?" you whispered, to which she replied with a soft mumble that it was okay and just continued to rub your hand more.

you nodded, looking out the window to see the plane slightly angled downwards. that's not normal. a moment later, a red light flashes above the head, the sound of the PA ringing out in a warning that something had malfunctioned. you stopped listening after those words. all that mattered was that the plane was going down. fast.

nat's words become muddied in your ear as you feel the steady descent grow quicker and quicker, green trees coming into view as oxygen masks drop down in front of you. you quickly fumble to put yours on, tears beginning to sprout in your eyes, as you pull natalie closer.

the impact is jarring, leaving you ever so slightly dazed and dizzy. you feel a tightness in your leg as you try to follow natalie out, her tugging you up out of your seat. only, you are stuck, fighting against the metal that holds you down as you scream, pleading for help.

the sound of your own ragged breathing wakes you up, a cold sweat dripping down your shirt as the realization comes to you: you're in bed. safe.

tears still overcome you, a sharp ache in your head forming as your heart does absolutely nothing to stop its frantic pounding against your chest. you feel a hand grip your wrist, that same familiar rasp filling your ears.

"breathe, baby, breathe," she instructs, her free hand going over your chest and rubbing it. "tell me five things you can see." she starts, coaching you through the panic as your eyes meet hers.

"i can see…" you start, swallowing the spit that accumulated in your throat. "you, the window… the bed, my room, and…" you stop for a moment, tears flooding your vision. she waits for you to finish, just brushing her hands against your skin. "and… my hoodie on the floor."

she smiles, whispering ever so softly to you. "good job, that was great. four things you can touch." she prompts.

"You..." you say with a smile, immediately flicking back to that frown that had set in your face. "the comforter, my shirt, and… and the pillow."

she continues this for a while, allowing you to acclimate back to what you remembered. she questions you for a moment, trying to find out what had you coiled so tightly.

"the plane… i had a dream that it… crashed." you admitted, tears ready to spring from your eyes once more. she shook her head, brushing her fingers against your cheeks.

"doll, i promise, that won't happen. i'll be there with you the whole time, i swear. we'll be alright." she reassures, cool eyes meeting your own in an ocean of sapphire. a new pang arises in your chest as you whisper delicately,

"when are we going to tell people about us?" you ask. the question seems to take her back a bit, eyes widening and fingers stilling on your skin. she sighs, nodding slowly.

"after nationals, love. after we win." she promised, fingers tightening around your wrist once more before gently linking with your own. "we'll be okay; we'll do it together."

and with that, she helps you lie down, cuddling you up into her chest. you fall asleep to the sound of her gentle breathing and the prospect that yes, you will be alright. just the two of you.

what's the worst that could happen?

if you are ever feeling anxious, that method is called the 5-4-3-2-1 method and it works so well at grounding people. please use it if you need to.

au revoir! have a great day, a great night, or a great life! <3

[art-bloob]

I will not ask where you came from

I will not ask and neither should you

[r-memberme]

that time of the month | k.m

⎯⎯You burrow further into the blankets, voice muffled. “A new body?”

warnings: period, blood

You wake up to a dull, twisting pain in your abdomen, the kind that announces its presence before you’re even fully conscious. With a groan, you curl in on yourself, clutching at your stomach as if that will somehow ease the relentless ache.

Klaus stirs beside you, immediately alert despite the early morning haze. “Love?” His voice is still thick with sleep, but the concern is instant, written in the furrow of his brow as he props himself up on one elbow. “What’s wrong?”

You press your face into the pillow, muffling another groan. “Cramps.”

Klaus exhales, brushing a hand over your hair, down your back, his touch featherlight. “Ah.” Understanding dawns in his voice. “The dreaded time of the month, then?”

You huff a quiet laugh, but it turns into a wince as another wave of pain hits. Klaus, ever attuned to even the smallest shifts in your expression, sits up fully, as if ready to wage war against your uterus itself. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

You burrow further into the blankets, voice muffled. “A new body?”

Klaus chuckles, though there’s still a trace of worry in his eyes. “While I can’t offer that, I can get you something warm, hmm? Tea? A heating pad?”

You peek up at him. “Snuggles?”

His smile softens, and in the next second, he’s already shifting you carefully against him, pulling you onto his chest like you weigh nothing. His hands rub soothing circles against your lower back, his warmth instantly easing the tension.

“You should’ve told me sooner, love,” he murmurs against your temple. “I’d have woken up prepared for battle.”

You hum sleepily, melting into him. “It’s just cramps, Klaus.”

“It’s pain,” he counters, voice low, protective. “And if I could take it from you, I would.”

His sincerity makes your throat tighten. You nuzzle into his neck, letting out a quiet sigh as his fingers trace slow, absentminded patterns over your skin.

A while later, when you finally summon the energy to crawl out of bed, disaster strikes. You pause mid-step, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach.

“Klaus…”

His head snaps up instantly, eyes scanning you for signs of distress. “What is it?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, exhaling through your nose. “I… bled through.”

Klaus blinks. “Alright?”

You give him a mortified look. “I bled through the sheets. Your sheets.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Darling, I’ve spilled more blood on these sheets than you ever will.”

Your groan is immediate, shoving at his shoulder. “That is NOT the same, Klaus!”

He grins, utterly unbothered, before gently nudging you toward the bathroom. “Go on, love, clean up. I’ll take care of the rest.”

You hesitate. “But—”

Klaus silences you with a look, the one that makes even the bravest men cower. “Go.”

You huff, but obey, retreating to the bathroom. By the time you return, dressed in fresh clothes, Klaus has already stripped the bed and replaced the sheets with impossible efficiency. A steaming cup of tea waits for you on the nightstand, alongside your favorite snack.

You blink at him, a little overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Klaus merely quirks a brow. “You’re suffering, love. The least I can do is make it bearable.”

Your heart clenches. You step closer, wrapping your arms around his middle, pressing your face into his chest. “You’re the best.”

He chuckles, pressing a lingering kiss to your hair. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

You roll your eyes but hold him tighter. “Thank you, Klaus.”

“Always, sweetheart.”

And as he tucks you back into bed, slipping in beside you, warm and solid and comforting, you think there’s truly no better place to be.

Thank you to everyone who sent in a request about period comfort from Klaus!  <3 hope you enjoy it <3

taglist: @ohapple @myworldrightnow@deactiveblogx@witch-of-letters@xtwistedchaosx@liataylorsversion@pardonmydelayyy

[writingunderneathawillow]

tight spaces (bucky barnes x fem!reader)

Content warnings: fluff, a pinch of angst, bucky gets anxious because of tight spaces, suggestive, bucky gets a boner hehehe, lowkey manhandling I guess, also accidentally inspired by teen wolf Wordcount: 930

The door of the supply room fell shut, sending you tumbling towards Bucky.

You had meant to keep it open, your foot propped against it while Bucky searched for the gun cleaning supplies. But it had rested heavily on you, leaving you straining and telling Bucky to get a move on.

Supply room was a generous term. It was basically a small closet made out of metal, barely big enough to accommodate one person, definitely not two.

You were pressed against Bucky’s chest after your stumble, feeling his hands at your waist to stabilise you.

“Sorry,” you muttered as you tried to get yourself in a more upright position.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled and let go of your sides. The warmth of his skin, that had seeped through your shirt, was gone so quickly, it felt as if the room’s temperature had dropped.

You went to reach for the door, stemming your weight against it as you pressed down on the door handle, but it didn’t move an inch.

At the same time, you were equally aware of Bucky’s gaze on you and the proximity of his lap and your ass. You tried pushing yourself more at the door, but it didn’t give in and didn’t allow for any more space between the two of you, either.

“Buck? We have a problem,” you said and twisted as much as possible to look at him. “The door won’t open.”

His eyebrows knitted together as his gaze flicked between you and the door.

“Can’t be, you just gotta try again,” he instructed and nodded encouragingly.

You sighed and repeatedly tried to force the door open, but it didn’t budge.

“I think it’s shut,” You replied, teeth gritted as you pushed again.

“Let me,” he said and tried to move past you. It didn’t seem intentional to you but the way he grabbed your shoulders, gently attempting to force himself towards the door by moving you out of the way, made your stomach flutter.

However, he wasn’t successful, stuck between you and the door with no way of positioning himself closer the exit.

He sighed and apologised as he simply reached over you, accidentally pushing you into his chest while his large hands fumbled with the door.

In the dim lighting you could still make it out the way his biceps flexed under his shirt and with the way you were sandwiched between him and the door, you could take in his scent effortlessly, practically drowning you in leather and a hint of citrus.

You tried to hold your breath, embarrassed by how lightheaded you became as his smell encircled you.

With a soft groan Bucky took a tiny step back, as much as the room allowed.

“God, we’re really stuck,” he murmured, and all your giddiness disappeared as you picked up on the trace of anxiety on his words.

Bucky and closed spaces did not go well together, especially ones made out of metal. Being entombed in a cold, tight room was sending shivers down his spine, and he was barely able to conceal them. You heard how his breath quickened and saw his eyes darting in between the walls of the room, searching for a way out.

“It’s okay,” you whispered; your hands rested on his forearms and you began to softly stroke up and downwards. “The others are gonna realise soon that we’re in here, we’re okay.”

His eyes met yours, the blue nearly hidden with his enlarged pupils. He nodded slowly, his gaze fixated on you as you continued your soothing motions.

“We’re okay,” he repeated as he watched you, almost entranced by your voice. After a few seconds his eyes began to wander again but instead of taking in his surroundings, they lingered on you.

The soft curve of your mouth, the gradual slope of your nose and the gentleness of your eyes captivated him, pulling him out of his state of panic.

“You have a scar there,” he mumbled, nodding towards your eyebrow. “I’ve never noticed it before.”

The words had stumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Only when he shifted slightly, he seemed to realise where you were. How you were glued to him, skin on skin with no room between the two of you.

All the blood that had pounded in his ears and head just seconds ago now rushed south.

You became aware of your situation again as well and desperately tried to find a place in the supply room that wasn’t taken up by him.

“Doll, you gotta-,” he groaned softly as he tried to adjust himself and get a little distance between both of you.

“You gotta turn around or something ‘cause, uh-“ he searched for words that wouldn’t make it so awkward but none came.

Your eyebrows scrunched up, confused by this, and tried to twist your body to face towards the door but then you felt it.

Warmth radiated from his lap along with an unmistakable hard sensation, straining against his pants right against you.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry,” you stuttered, trying even harder to increase the proximity between the two of you.

He muttered something unintelligible and then said: “No, don’t be. I’m the one who’s sorry, sweetheart.”

A soft hiss escaped his mouth when you finally had managed to turn around, now facing the door with warmed cheeks.

A few seconds passed, your backside now pressed into him, until he broke the silence.

“Doll?” “Yeah?” “This is worse.”

You chuckled, pressing your hand against your lips and you could hear his faint laughter.

[redflavor]

f(x) Red Light, 2014 dir. VM Project Architecture

[docces]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ voei⠀⠀۶ ͚𝆬ㅤ 𝃞 ( tão alto )⠀⠀𓈒ㅤཾ 𓈒

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ࣭⠀⠀⠀⠀هبوط⠀⠀⠀ mas caí⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠳⣄⣀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀não⠀⠀هنالك⠀⠀ am ─── or

[052900]

Happy 10th year anniversary to f(x)'s Red Light!

[tokumusume]

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . ୨୧ f(x) cd plate scans

[curestardust]

[latenightdaydreams]

hi! i love your work so much! can i request konig with a small, pear shaped girlfriend and their first time together and he finds out she’s a really wet girl? like she creams and squirts? sorry, if that was a bit much! thank you for your work! <33333

💞thank you!! absolutely!

König x PearShaped!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List ✍🏽

>cw:fem/afab, oral, fingering, p in v, squirting

1.5k word count

💦

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The first time König saw you he had to do a double take. You walked past him, hips swaying as you were out with your friends. He’s usually never one to approach women, but he couldn’t just let you walk by. It’s now been four months and the two of you have grown attached at the hip.

Dressed in a light pink babydoll nighty, you open your apartment door to greet König. He stands there with a bouquet of red roses in his hands as his jaw drops, eyes trailing up and down your body. The sheer fabric clings to the irresistible shape of your body. With his free hand he reaches out and rests on your hip as he walks you back into the apartment, his eyes looking all around to make sure that no one can see you before closing the door behind him.

“Mein Gott, Liebling. You’re going to give an old man like me a heart attack.” His voice is low and sultry as he speaks to you, his hand caressing your warm body thought the fabric of your nightgown.

“These are beautiful!” You smile brightly as you grab the roses and smell them.

“You’re beautiful.” König’s other hand went to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You gaze up into his eyes and smile as he holds you. He is still mesmerized by how you look; this is the first time he’s seen your body in such little clothing and he can’t wait to see it in less. A small giggle leaves you as he continues to walk you back further into the apartment before lifting you up in his arms.

“Here I was trying to surprise you, but you’ve out done me.” König walks to your bedroom at the end of the long hallway, gently placing you down on your bed.

König takes the bouquet from your hands and places the flowers on the bed beside you as he kneels in front of you on the bed. His hands rest on your thick thighs, squeezing them lightly as his eyes roam over every inch of you. He lets a puff of air out as his eyes finally meet yours again.

“What do you think?”

“What do I think? Schatz, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His hands move further up your thigh, enjoying the feeling of how soft your skin is.

“Kö,” You giggle softly.

“I mean it.” He leans towards you and kisses your lefts gently. His lips travel from your lips, down your jawline to your neck. You tilt your head to the side to allow him more room to kiss you. “Ich will dich so sehr.”

König lets his hands trail up your body to cup your breasts, his thumbs flicking back and forth over your erect nipples. A trail of open mouth wet kisses continues down to your cleavage. The only thing on his mind is exploring your body, tasting every single inch of you. After months of waiting, he’s going to take his time savoring this moment with you.

“Come here.” He pulls back and lifts you up again, placing you in the center of the bed. His body looms over yours before meeting your eyes. “I love you, Schatz.”

“I love you too.” You say back with a giggle.

König kneels between your legs, running his hands up and down your thighs as his eyes fall on the thin fabric of your thong. A wet patch is already forming, causing König to smirk. He lets one hand slip down your thigh completely, brushing against the wet fabric. His eyes watch you closely, waiting to see your reaction. When he sees you biting your bottom lip and looking with anticipation, he pushes further.

One finger hooks the fabric, pulling it to the side to expose your freshly shaved pussy to him. He’s barely touched you, yet you’re already glistening for him. Your sweet scent of arousal hits his nostrils; you’re absolutely intoxicating. “Perfekt.” He whispers as his thumb reaches out and glides up and down your folds, pulling away to suck your juices off of it.

His hands move up to pull your thong off completely, casually tossing it off the bed onto the floor. He slides his hands on the outside of your thighs as he lowers his head, kissing gently on your inner right thigh. A small airy moan leaves you only making him crave more of those beautiful sounds.

Your body tenses the closer his lips get to your pussy. The feeling of his warm hand on yours grounds you slightly as you both interlock fingers. You look down at him as his pale eyes gaze back up at you. With the gentle flick of his tongue, he causes you to completely melt.

König holds your hands, letting you squeeze his as he drives his tongue over every single inch of your glorious folds. He gazes up at you watching your eyebrows pinch together as you try to contain the intense pleasure that you’re feeling. You taste better than he could have imagined, his eyes slowly close as his head rests on your thigh, his lips wrap around your clit and sucks lightly causing your legs to twitch.

“König…” Your voice trembles as you speak. “It’s too much.”

“Mm-m.” He shakes his head lightly, not ready to stop. As he sucks your clit his tongue flicks over the round little bud. Your moans only grow louder as you squeeze his hands tighter. Your thick thighs begin to close around his head, back arching.

“König!” You cry out as your full body trembles. “Oh fuck!”

König shakes his head back and forth slightly before pulling away, letting your clit slip from his lips with a soft pop. He gazes down to see thick white globs of arousal covering you, dripping down your lips. Out of all the women he’s been with, he’s never seen such a creamy little cunt. His cock is aching to go in raw and feel you're wrapped around him.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He looks up at you while you rest, breathing heavily.

His hands go to the hem of his shirt, discarding it quickly. As he fumbles with his pants his eyes travel over every inch of your body before landing back on your face. He gives you as soft smile with his glossy lips.

Your eyes linger on his hands as he pulls his hands down. The sight of his cock springing free with a string of precum connecting to his boxers nearly making you drool. You sit up, sticking out your tongue, licking the tip of his cock to taste his bitter precum. He watches with amazement as you wrap your beautiful lips around the head of his cock, sucking while you gaze up at him.

“Oh- mein Gott, Liebling.” König whimpers before dropping his head back.

König’s cock is so fat that your jaw quickly begins to hurt, your lips going slightly numb; yet you can’t help but to try and swallow as much of him as you can. Slowly, he begins to thrust forward into your mouth. He is unable to stop himself from being greedy and wanting to fuck your tight little throat. His hands go to the sides of your head as he picks up his pace. You gag loudly as he holds you down, almost every inch of him in your mouth before he pulls back.

He gently pushes you back on the bed, picking up one of your legs and resting it on his shoulder as he looks down at your sloppy pussy. Just feeling your folds against the sensitive tip of his cock is enough to make him shiver. His eyes can’t look away as he watches his girthy shaft part your lips, stretching your tiny pussy. Your velvety walls cling to him, welcoming him in with a heavenly warmth.

“Y/n…” König moans, his hips slams into you with slow hard thrust. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“Please fuck me harder.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” It’s taking everything in him to not just ruin you, but he knows he’s big and you need to adjust.

“I said harder.” A bossy side of you he’s never seen shows through, and he likes it.

“Yes baby, anything for you.”

König drops your leg, grabbing you behind both knees, and pulling your legs back. His eyes lock with yours as he pulls his hips back, bucking into you and shoving all of himself inside of you. You can’t even maintain eye contact as your eyes flutter back, your mouth hangs open while your body get slammed mercilessly into the plush mattress.

“I’m- I’m so close.” You cry out.

“Good girl. Cum for me.” His eyes follow your hand as you reach down to rub your clit.

It’s almost hypnotic watching your beautiful dainty fingers play with your pretty pink pussy. You can feel a heavy pressure begin to build up. The head of his cock repeatedly passes over your g-spot, pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm.

“König.” His name leaves your lips in a pathetic broken mewl.

The pressure builds to a point where you can’t take it. König’s eyes open wide as a heavy stream leaves you, splashing against his abdomen causing him to let out a soft growl. In a swift motion he withdraws himself from you and lays on his stomach, licking every drop from your legs and lips.

A cocky grin crosses his lips as he realizes he just made you squirt, now he wants more. Two of his fingers slip inside of you, curling to focus on your g-spot again. His muscles flex as he pumps in and out of you, his tongue flicking over your clit making you squirm.

“König! König please!”

“I want you to squirt all over my face.” He growls. “Meine perfekte kleine Hure.”

[greenandsorrow]

ΦΙΛΗΔΟΝΙΑ. (i)

HENRY WINTER X SHAPELY!FEM!READER ⏳

☞ Here I am, writing spontaneous filth, a wet fever dream if you will... instead of getting the real work done (my tsh au with an oc). This one is quite suggestive, but I tried to incorporate nice prose in it as well! What if you take what you're about to read as an apology for not making any progress with 'What once was' yet ?? 🥺

☞ I know there are times I say that some smut fics of mine belong in the 'no plot just porn' category, even when it takes many paragraphs to get to the spice. But listen, I write and pace my smut like a female orgasm. (Iykyk☕) I was ovulating when I wrote this and it shows -says the luteal me.

☞ OOC!Henry??, adult themes, kinda slow burn, descriptive, teasing, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public setting, the more you read the hornier it gets, cliché tension-heightening tropes, my first time writing for Henry specifically and for tsh generally

You're a good friend of Richard.

Neither of you was born swimming in money and as a result of your humble upbringings, you both share a sense of wonder at making it into a place like Hamden. However, the main thing that connected you and the brunette Californian when you first met, was your shared desire to become part of the Greek class. Richard wholeheartedly believes that you deserved to be accepted by Julian far more than he did, but the eccentric professor has his own unique -or rather, peculiar- way of thinking and evaluating who is worthy of becoming his pupil and who… simply isn’t.

Unfortunately for you, you didn't manage to enroll in Greek. You didn't quite fit the mold, so to speak. Oh well... French, sketching and sculpting are fine. And Richard makes sure to keep you up to date with his new experiences as part of what essentially is a clique of wealthy twenty-year-olds.

To the untrained eye of a bystander, the brooding umbrella bearer, the ginger fashionista, the blonde twins, and the Edmund guy all appear equally obnoxious and hoity-toity. Still, Richard has given you a retrospective of the Greek class -or at least he tried- because you can't help but poke fun at pretentiousness when you see it.

The first few weeks were relatively calm. You only ever saw the group when they walked out of the Lyceum and you were waiting for Rich. During those moments, you took the chance to observe them more closely, but you were still unsure whether you liked what you saw. Camilla, the only girl in their little clique, would always shoot poisonous glares your way, while Bunny would give you a nod, accompanied by an acknowledging half-smirk.

You first met Francis, by mere luck. You were over at Richard's dorm room when the ginger paid him an unexpected visit -and even though you weren't entirely sure if he was kind out of politeness or sincerity, you liked him. Francis is a nervous man with a great sense of humor and style.

As time bled into the heart of autumn, you started going out with your classmates. There was a cozy little bar hidden in an alley on Vermont where you'd enjoy a couple of drinks, when you didn't have early lessons. While there, you spotted Francis and Charles sharing drinks together. There were some 'scandalous' dating rumors... and you had a feeling they were indeed hooking up. You caught them once on your way back to Hamden. Francis must have noticed you, but the twin was likely quite drunk. You didn't tell a soul and Francis was silently grateful for it.

Weeks turned into months...

And boom! You, Francis and Richard started hanging out around campus. It didn't become a daily occurrence overnight, but when it did, Charles would also join you from time to time. You even started talking to Bunny through your light interactions with his girlfriend, Marion. He definitely stood out from their polished social image, but in a way, he was the necessary ingredient that balanced out their measured and cut off demeanor.

You're not part of the group. If anything, you're even more of an outsider than Richard. The thing with you, though, is that unlike him, you aren't trying to fit in. Bunny is talkative to a fault, so you have no trouble entertaining him. We've already covered Francis. Charles is surprisingly chill and friendly. But despite that, his sister might mirror his appearance, but she certainly doesn't mirror his personality. She seems to tolerate you more than anything.

When Charles casually invited you to their apartment for dinner, her expression had turned so sour that you almost wanted to strangle her.

However, the cherry on top is that mountain of stoicism, Henry Winter. He always seems to be in his own world, his piercing gaze often fixed on something far beyond the crowd. You can't help but notice how he will occasionally glance in your direction, but these moments are fleeting, gone as quickly as they come. There is an intensity in his eyes that makes your heart race, yet he remains an enigma, shrouded in layers of indifference.

While Francis and Charles are engaging and willing to include you in their conversations, Henry's aloofness is what stimulates your curiosity. You sense he is aware of your presence, yet he never acknowledges you, as if you are just a mere afterthought in the grand narrative of his life.

The dinner was a catalyst experience.

As you arrived at the twins' apartment with Richard, Henry's presence loomed large but distant. You felt eyes on you, but it was only Bunny, Charles and Francis who greeted you with cheerful banter, while Henry remained in his corner, a book in hand. His gaze did flicker to your shapely figure, lingering just a moment longer than he intended before he quickly averted his eyes, dismissing you as nothing more than an unimportant distraction.

"Well, well, don't you look like a million bucks tonight!" Bunny called out with a grin, his eyes openly trailing down your curves. "That dress is working overtime, sweetheart. We should get you to wear that to the next charity event!"

Charles chuckled -though there was a slight awkwardness to it- and Francis rolled his eyes. You forced a smile, used to Bunny's crude remarks. Your attention was elsewhere anyway...

Why did Henry refuse to engage, even when you found yourselves under the same roof? He frustrated you as much as he intrigued you.

The atmosphere in the twins' apartment buzzed with lively chatter and the clinking of glasses. As you settled into your seat at the table, you were acutely aware of Henry's presence at the far end. You wore a fitted dress that accentuated your curves, the fabric clinging to your defined figure. You could feel the warmth of the others' gazes, but when it came to him, it was as if a cold, impenetrable wall stood next to you.

As the meal progressed, conversation flowed easily. Bunny dominated most of it, animatedly recounting stories from campus -with Richard often his chosen victim. Occasionally though, Bunny's attention would drift back to you, making some offhand comment about how you should consider a career in modeling. "No reason to hide those killer curves, darling" he'd say with a wink, making Francis groan in exasperation.

Through it all, Henry remained silent, his attention fixed on his plate or the flickering candlelight at the center of the table. Though he said nothing, there was a tightness in his jaw that suggested he was aware of everything -and perhaps disapproved.

You caught glimpses of him out of the corner of your eye -the subtle shift of his gaze when he thought no one was watching, the way his fingers twitched when Bunny's voice grew loud and lewd.

It was maddening. He was magnetic and repelling all at once.

"Henry, what do you think?" Charles asked at some point, finally drawing him into the conversation. For a moment, hope flickered within you that he might engage. But Henry merely shrugged, dismissing the warmth of the moment...

As the evening wore on, you tried to focus on the camaraderie of the others, but you couldn't shake the feeling that Henry was watching you from behind that wall of polite ignorance.

His silence only amplified the tension that crackled between you.

Tension, tension, tension... Or is it your wishful thinking?

Since that dinner, things have warmed between you and the Greek students. You often find yourself in their company -whether it's studying together in the library, thrifting with Richard, going to the opera with Francis and even Camilla, or awkwardly using the coffee machine in the cafeteria with Henry.

Henry has shifted from not acknowledging your existence to silently accepting it. It's a delicate situation and you know better than to push for more. He's far from an average Joe. Initiating small talk with him would feel almost like a personal insult.

Let's focus on today though, shall we?

It's early morning and you're both making coffee in the still empty cafeteria. The small space in front of the coffee maker forces you to stand close, too close. As you reach for a cup, your fingers accidentally graze his much larger ones, sending an electric jolt through you. Henry's hand lingers for one delicious moment before he pulls away, his expression neutral, though you catch the subtle clenching of his jaw.

Is he annoyed... Or did he feel the same tingling sensation you just felt? You apologize quietly and he nods, not saying a word, but the air feels heavier now.

A pause.

You turn to say something -anything!- but he's already walking away, his umbrella and Gucci coat perfectly in place.

It was a mundane thing to happen, really. Boring and normal, unimpressive and simple. Ordinary and meaningless... Something that could happen between absolutely anyone. And yet, you spend the rest of the day replaying it over and over in your pretty head, unable to focus on your classes.

In the blink of an eye and after several cups of mediocre at best coffee, you find yourself waiting for Richard at your usual spot. He emerges with Bunny. Dammit... They appear to be engrossed in conversation. Looks like you're heading back to the dorms on your own...

You sigh.

There's no hurry so you don't leave right away.

The cold evening air bites at your skin as you stand outside the Lyceum, watching as the others come out of it. Francis waves at you and Camilla gives you a brief smile, but neither lingers. And then there's Henry, the last to leave. He steps out into the dim streetlight, his dark coat wrapped tightly around him as he makes his way down the steps.

You hesitate for a moment, debating on saying something or staying silent as always, but frustration gnaws at you and your tongue wins control over your brain.

"Why doesn't he want me there?" you ask, not moving from your spot.

Henry pauses. His eyes -sharp and piercing- meet yours and for a moment you wonder if he's going to ignore you, as he has countless times before. But then he walks over, his steps measured and his expression unreadable.

"You mean Julian" he states in a low voice, but there's an edge to it like he's already thought about this.

You nod, your breath visible in the cold air. "Yes. Everyone else... but not me. Why?"

He regards you for a long moment, his eyes tracing your face... and for the first time you're acutely aware of his smell -expensive cologne and aftershave mixed with tobacco. His presence is imposing, even though his demeanor remains distant.

"Julian is..." he begins, then stops as if searching for the right words. He then looks away, towards the dark street, the silence between you thick. "Particular. He doesn’t take everyone."

The words sting, even though they were spoken with a calm detachment. You cross your arms, not entirely sure if it's to block out the cold or the weight of his indifference.

"That much is obvious. But why not me?"

Henry's jaw clenches, a flicker of something unspoken passing in his dark blue eyes, but his voice remains steady. "You don't need Julian's approval in order to spend time with us."

And then a bit more earnestly "You already know that."

You scoff lightly, taken aback by his response. "You didn't answer my question."

"I did."

His gaze snaps back to yours, something new surfacing behind those cold orbs of his.

You feel like you're standing on the edge of some cliffhanger, but before you can push him any further with your questions, Henry takes another step dangerously close. He looks down at you, taking in the curve of your upper lip, your jawline, the shape of your nose.

"You're not like the others" he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. There's no judgment in his tone, just the acknowledgment of a fact. You blink, taken completely off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

"Is that why Julian won't let me in? Because I'm not like all of you?"

Henry doesn't answer immediately. The tension between you feels fragile, like it could shatter at any given moment. Then, in a voice softer than you've ever heard from him, he replies "Maybe it's better this way."

His words hang in the air, loaded with a meaning you can't quite grasp. You search his eyes for something more, some explanation, but before you find anything, Henry steps back, his face closing off once again.

"Goodnight" he says, the tension breaking as he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there confused and more intrigued than ever.

A bottle of cheap wine and late night thinking is your next step.

"When Henry told me that Julian's judgment isn't everything, he revealed a small crack in his otherwise impenetrable loyalty to the professor. He respects Julian and his selective nature, but he doesn't entirely agree with my exclusion.

So Henry has protective instincts... whether he's aware of them or not. He senses that keeping me out may shield me from whatever lies ahead in Julian's world, which he must know isn't as glamorous as it appears...

I am such a philosopher..."

That evening, Henry remained by his car for a good while, watching you as you stood alone in the cold. He couldn't quite explain why your question had unsettled him, why your presence had been bothering him in ways he hadn't anticipated. You unsettled him -not because of what you said, but because of how acutely aware of you he had become.

You frustrated him.

Henry's need for control manifests in how he maintains a physical and emotional distance, even as the tension between you grows. He's hyperaware of how your interactions could escalate if he lets them. That's why he chooses to leave at the end of every single conversation you have. By walking away, Henry reasserts control over the situation, both over himself and you. He's not ready to let his guard down, so he retreats in order to keep the tension simmering rather than boiling over.

It was foolish, he told himself. He had no time for such petty distractions. Still, there was something about you that cracked the surface of his carefully constructed world.

You weren't part of Julian's circle, so you shouldn’t matter. But you did. He hated that you did.

Sexuality and romance... these are things Henry has never cared for. He can analyze them, dissect them from a distance, but the reality is different. He has observed enough to know how they work in theory, yet practice remains foreign to him.

Intimacy is something he has never sought, perhaps because it seems beneath him, too messy and unpredictable. But when standing before you, Henry realized something he hadn't expected... He was curious. Not in the detached, intellectual way he usually is.

A few days pass, but the memory of him looking at you outside the Lyceum is still annoyingly persistent. It's hard not to think about the odd tension between you. You tell yourself it's nothing, but it's not working, not really.

So you decide to head to the library. Not because you expect to see him there, but because your classes are starting to pile up and you need to focus. At least that's what you tell yourself as you step into the quiet, echoing halls. But as you move through the aisles, you spot him.

H. M. Winter

He's seated at a table near the back, away from the other scattered students, his serious expression fixed on a thick book in front of him. The mere sight of him -sharp jawline and tailored coat draped over the back of his chair- sends a jolt of something through you. You hesitate for a moment. You should leave, avoid him. But instead you find yourself walking over, heartbeat quickening, the air between you already charged before you've even said a word.

He doesn't look up immediately when you approach, his eyes still fixed on the book in front of him, his fingers carefully tracing the edge of a page as if he's deliberately keeping his focus there. But then, as you step closer he finally glances up, his gaze moving over your face and then lowering to take in the rest of your body, outfit and all.

Without a word, you pull out the chair across from him, the scrape of wood against the floor cutting through the heavy silence. You take your time, moving slowly. Your body brushes against the edge of the table as you sit, the fabric of your skirt clinging to your curves in a way you know he notices -even if he doesn't allow himself to look.

The scent of old books and cologne in the air adds to the heat building between you. You cross your legs, shifting slightly in your seat while you unpack your bag.

Time goes by.

The quiet hum of the library envelops you both as you sit across from each other, textbooks and notes now scattered on the table. You focus on actually studying for the most part, though you can still feel his bespectacled eyes shift on you from time to time. When you move in your seat, the hem of your skirt rides up slightly, revealing just a hint more thigh. His eyebrow twitches in response before he sharply returns his focus on his book, but not before you catch the encouraging micro expression...

You pretend not to notice, but the warmth crawling up your neck betrays you.

As the minutes tick by, the space starts to feel smaller than it should, the quiet charged with something unsaid.

Without the presence of the others, the air between you feels different -more electric and less restrained. With no one else to see, neither of you has to pretend anymore. Henry's usual detachment falters, his eyes lingering longer than they should, tracing the curve of your leg that has been exposed. This time, instead of shying away, you let the moment stretch.

Alone with him the rules feel different, unspoken boundaries becoming temptations to cross.

You lean forward ever so slightly -the movement causing your blouse to dip just enough to reveal a teasing glimpse of cleavage. You pretend to adjust the papers in front of you, but you know exactly what you're doing... The corner of your mouth quirks up in the faintest hint of a smirk when you catch the way his stormy, blue eyes flick down momentarily.

Henry adjusts his glasses, the subtle motion giving him a moment to compose himself. His eyes narrow. His voice is steady, level, as he finally addresses you -but there's clearly an edge to it.

"What exactly are you trying to do?"

His gaze locks onto yours now, no longer avoiding the obvious. It's a challenge spoken softly but laced with a mix of curiosity and frustration. He's intelligent enough to know what's happening, but inexperienced enough that your boldness throws him off balance.

His hand tightens on the spine of the book.

It's a good thing you put on this little lacy bralette in the morning, because it does your assets more than justice. You sit up straighter.

Henry's gaze falls on your generous cleavage again, before it darts back to the forsaken book he's been pretending to read for the past hour. His ears turn a slight red, an indicator of his flustered state. And oh, the way he clears his throat... It tells you everything you need to know.

"I was just wondering if I could see your notes. You know… so I can get a glimpse of what Julian teaches you lot. Or is that Latin? Richard mentioned you're working on a translation or something..."

"Yes… It's Latin."

"Can I see?"

Was that a provocative thing to ask? Maybe.

Indeed, Henry stiffens at your question, the directness of it catching him off guard and you even catch a brief flash of uncertainty behind his gaze.

"I… suppose you can" he mutters after a small pause. He fumbles slightly with the pages in front of him, which seems like an unusual action for him -to fumble. His square-nailed fingers brush over the worn paper of the translation he's been working on, but you can tell his focus isn't on the text. As he slides the notebook toward you, you notice the almost imperceptible tremble of his upper limbs.

"Thanks" you say, offering him a small smile. Then, you lean even closer, supposedly to examine the translation -to expose more cleavage.

...he bites the bait. Henry swallows hard and you don't need to look up to know that his eyes are fixated on your supple bosom. His breath hitches audibly as he sees more of your assets than is appropriate.

After another charged moment, with you still 'reading' from his notebook, Henry straightens up, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as the hardness that has formed in his pants becomes impossible to ignore.

He's never felt anything like this before. The sudden arousal surges through him, unwelcome and overwhelming, making his skin prickle under his usually immovable composure. Crossing his legs, he tries in vain to hide the evidence of his arousal. It's a humiliating thing to be so out of control, to feel his body reacting when his mind is frantically trying to impose some order. He disappoints himself by being so... so affected by something as simple as a glimpse of your breasts.

Henry adjusts his glasses once more. His body is betraying him right now, a true traitor, a meek renegade, pulsing with a need he doesn't know how to handle.

You're delighted to see him bite his lower lip, making his internal struggle more tangible to you...

Before...

Before he blurts out... "You're not wearing a bra, are you?"

The question echoes in your ears, blunt and so so uncharacteristic of him, but his eyes are wide and his pupils dilated. You understand that the words must've slipped out before he could catch them. Still, you don't give him an answer.

His normally pale complexion flushes a deep shade of red, the realization of what he just said hitting him like a freight train. His hand tightens even more around the notebook -knuckles white- and he looks like he wishes the ground could swallow him whole.

For a second it seems like he might apologize, but no words come out of his mouth. Instead, he shifts again, the discomfort of his confined erection making him painfully aware of what he assumes are your bare breasts under the fabric of your blouse...

Henry's mind is working without his permission as it tries to decide how your skin must feel against his hands. You've clearly gotten under his skin and he's struggling to maintain the control he's so used to wielding.

He can't help but steal another peek at the dip of your blouse, admiring, longing. He also can't help but imagine running his palms over your unconstrained breasts. The breath he takes does little to calm his racing heart, or the stirring in his expensive dress pants, the ache becoming harder to ignore with every passing second.

His hand moves to close his notebook, as if to signal that this study session is over, but the awkward energy still crackles between you. On top of that, you're not ready to give up, not now that you finally have him wrapped around your finger.

"Are you leaving already?" you ask, something playful in your voice.

Henry hesitates, fingers lingering over the notebook, his usual confidence visibly shaken. He clears his throat, glancing at you and then quickly away, as though torn between staying and the uncomfortable predicament in his slacks.

"I… hadn't planned on it" he murmurs, speaking more to himself than to you. He uncrosses his legs, the icy gaze returning to meet yours, betraying a mixture of reluctance and undeniable attraction. "But maybe I… should."

With a touch of sultry innocence, you turn your attention back to your own book, supposedly accepting his sudden departure -while also positioning your arms so they press your breasts together, accentuating your already tantalizing cleavage. Of course he tenses as he sees what the new position does to your body...

You turn your focus away from Henry to glance around, noting the empty chairs and half-abandoned tables. It looks like most students have left -or are leaving- for dinner. It's just the two of you now, tucked into a secluded corner, as if the quiet solitude of the library is conspiring in your favor.

Time has slipped by unnoticed, a realization for him as much as for you.

The soft glow of the lamps casts long shadows across the rows of books. The library has quieted. The world outside is fading into dusk. The room feels still, almost intimate. The building's ventilation is the only sound left, along with your breathing.

Henry isn't sure if he should feel relieved or more uncomfortable now that it's just you. The absence of others only sharpens the tension, leaving him acutely aware of his body's betrayal. He aches with need, his arousal throbbing painfully against his zipper, each pulse a reminder of how far out of control this has spiraled.

As if on instinct, his hand moves to his lap, fingers brushing against the strained fabric of his pants. His gaze is fixed on your cleavage, drawn to the subtle rise and fall of your chest with each breath.

Your luscious skin has Henry's breath growing shallow, each muscle in his body tensing as if bracing against a storm. His thoughts also betray him -he wants his face there, buried between your soft mounds, suffocated by them, losing himself in you as if he were a Roman indulging in the decadence of an orgy.

His breathing grows even more labored as his eyes fixate on your hands, now massaging your plump assets. This is unfair. Unbearable. Infuriating. Under any other circumstances, he'd be appalled by such lewd behavior. Yet, in all honesty, his frustration is less directed to you and more to himself -for being weak enough to succumb to such a primal, lowly instinct.

Lust.

Lust...

But… is it really so lowly?

Lust for a woman. Lust for a man.

Lust for food. For alcohol.

For a sports car, a tailored suit, an ancestral estate.

Lust for knowledge. For the thrill of experience.

Lust for life.

It has always been about hedonism. The pursuit of satisfaction, the fulfillment of one's desires. Yet Henry had never felt it like this before, not in its pure, unrefined carnality. Even the excitement for Julian's praise pales in comparison to the one he experiences now -with his face contorted in pleasure, as he stares at your coy expression. His chest tightens as his gaze shifts from your cleavage to your face, struck by how utterly radiant you look. He's never truly taken the time to notice it before, let alone appreciate it... The fullness of your cheeks, their youthful glow, their intoxicating freshness, healthy and ripe like apples.

It's a stark contrast to his own face, or even Camilla's, or Richard's. Their cheeks are hollowed from sleepless nights, their skin pale, only flushed when warmed by too much wine. But you... oh, you. The blood flows effortlessly, naturally, deliciously to your face as you meet his gaze with that knowing expression.

He feels more sweat forming on his brow and his hand -oh, damn him- is already moving, rubbing slow, small circles over his aching crotch.

It dawns on him, then.

A revelation as visceral as it is absurd. He's never quite grasped why literature so often wields cannibalism as a metaphor for love, for lust. But now, with his pulse racing, his breath faltering and his thoughts consumed entirely by you, he understands. He wants to devour you. Consume you wholly, utterly, and without remorse.

"You look so... so..." he gasps, his voice strained and trembling with unspent desire. "Play with your... play with your- Oh God!"

You can't help but grin at his unraveling. You've done it. The mighty Henry Winter reduced to a needy mess, his carefully cultivated composure shattered like glass. He's acting like some desperate, hormonal teenager and the power you feel is almost dizzying.

Teasingly, you raise your top just enough to give him a good glimpse of what's going on underneath. His eyes widen, hunger and disbelief etched across his face as he's treated to the sight of your lingerie-clad breasts, the delicate lace doing little to hide your hardened nipples.

A hoarse groan escapes him, while his hand strokes his length -the slacks barely covering anything. Whatever hesitation or awareness of his surroundings he had before has vanished. At this moment, he doesn't care who might see the two of you.

The mix of pleasure and frustration is overwhelming him. His underwear has become far too tight for his engorged member and with a muttered profanity, he unbuckles his belt. In one swift motion, he shoves both his pants and underwear down -just enough to free himself.

His thick, hard cock springs forward then, standing tall and heavy. The sight of it catches even you off guard.

"Henry, what-"

"Shut up!" he growls in a voice that's low and rough, dripping with need. His hand wraps around his hard length, giving himself a few slow, deliberate strokes. "Just sit there and look beautiful while I take care of this."

His eyes aren't their usual icy blue anymore. They're darker -almost molten- and they fixate on your cleavage with an intensity that sends heat pooling in your stomach.

You glance around, a flicker of apprehension sparking within you. The thought of getting caught lingers at the back of your mind, but the darkness outside and the deserted library reassure you. Thank God your table is tucked away in a secluded corner.

With a teasing smile, you lift your top again.

Henry's reaction is immediate. His eyes glaze over, his head tipping back slightly as his mouth falls open in a silent moan. The sight of your perfectly-rounded breasts seems to unravel him entirely. His hand moves faster over his pulsating shaft, the tension in his body building with every passing second.

"Please… please" he rasps, his voice almost breaking.

The desperate plea sends a jolt of heat through you. You press your thighs together -the throbbing between them is growing more and more. You lean forward just a bit, your tone dripping with feigned innocence.

"Please what?" comes your whisper.

His lips part again as he struggles to form words. "Please... touch yourself... Your n- nip-" He can't even finish his sentence, his composure completely shattered as his cock throbs violently in his hand.

"Now, please!" he gasps.

You feel a flicker of shyness at first but decide to indulge him, pinching your nipples gently between your fingers. Henry's gaze is unwavering, his breath hitching as your fingers close around your hard, (color) nipples. The groan that escapes him is loud and unrestrained, his hand now moving furiously over the length of his leaking cock.

When your hands push your breasts together, his expression shifts entirely. He looks hypnotized... Utterly transfixed by the sight. You can tell he's imagining his face there, buried between your mounds and lost in the warmth of you.

His body begins to tense, every muscle coiled tight as his release inches closer.

The moment is abruptly interrupted by the sound of footsteps and you immediately hurry to cover yourself, just as a boy approaches to retrieve a forgotten notebook. Henry's hand also retreats and he straightens in his seat, doing his best to appear somehow worldly. The boy barely glances at either of you before leaving, blissfully unaware of what he nearly walked in on.

Once the intruder is gone, you turn your attention back to Henry. His chest heaves. He's still catching his breath, face still red and damp with sweat. Ebony hair disheveled, round glasses slipping down his nose. With a shaky hand, he pushes them back into place, looking almost... human for once.

In this moment, he's not the calculating and untouchable Henry M. Winter. He's just a man -a flushed, trembling and utterly undone by you man.

"Show them again."

With the intruder now gone, silence blankets the library once again, thick with boiling tension. Still, you don't give him what he wants right away, liking the control you have over him.

"You were saying?" you murmur with a sultry undertone.

Henry's eyes snap back to yours. His hand hasn't stopped and it's picking up speed again, moving with urgency.

"I… I can't-" he breathes, his voice tight.

"Don't hold back." Your words are laced with mischief. "Let me see you, as you see me..."

That's all the encouragement he needs, really.

"You're-" he gasps out "going to-" another gasp escapes his lips "make me... ah- c- come..."

Henry's words are broken and almost incoherent, as he dangerously teeters on the edge. His breathing is ragged, every muscle in him taut with anticipation.

His grip on his erection tightens, his thumb brushing over the swollen tip, smearing pre-cum as his breathing grows more erratic. Oh Lord, he's so so close, his mind utterly consumed by thoughts and images of you -your breasts, the tantalizing curve of your perky nipples...

The weight of your gaze -intent and deliberate- feels like a physical touch and the unique cadence of your voice echoes in his head, soft yet teasing, pulling him closer to the brink.

His movements become frantic, his breath hitching as the coil inside him winds tighter. He's watching you, every detail of your parted lips and flushed skin, your teasing smile as you slowly trail your fingers over the tops of your breasts.

And then he falls apart.

Henry's hand freezes over his manhood as he looks into your eyes, his body trembling with need. "Can I...Can I come on them? Please?"

The raw need in his tone sends a shiver down your spine, igniting the flicker of power within you. You lean forward quite a lot, giving him an even better view of the soft curves he's begging for.

"Are you asking nicely?" Your is voice soft but also dripping with seduction.

Henry's jaw tightens as his restraint slips further away. This is embarrassing, it's debauchery, but he's in too deep to back away now.

"Please" he repeats, his voice breaking, the desperation evident.

His hand resumes its movement, jerking himself harder now, his focus entirely on you and the unspoken permission you haven't yet given.

You glance around quickly, the library as quiet as it's been the whole evening, the shadows growing darker as the last traces of daylight fade completely. A thrill courses through you at the sheer audacity of the situation. Meeting his gaze again, you slowly tug your top down to expose more of yourself -your cleavage a tempting canvas for his impending release.

"Alright, Henry" you purr. "Go ahead."

His head falls back at that, a strangled moan escaping his lips as the tension in his body reaches its peak. His hips jerk forward and his hand works in a frenzy, chasing the release he's been holding back for what feels like hours. His entire body tenses, veins standing out on his forearms and neck as his climax overtakes him.

The first thick, hot streak spills out, landing on your breasts, followed by another... and another. His release is messy -almost overwhelming- each pulse marking your skin in stark contrast to your flushed complexion. The sight alone seems to prolong his orgasm, his strokes slowing only as his body begins to shudder with overstimulation.

For a moment after that, the library is filled with nothing but the sound of his heavy breathing and the soft hum of the lights overhead.

Henry blinks, his gaze dropping to where he's left his mark, his lips parting in something like awe. His glasses have slid down the bridge of his nose, his hair tousled and for once, he looks completely undone.

His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his eyes still locked on you, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. Finally, he manages to adjust his glasses, his voice coming out hoarse and unsteady.

"You're… incredible" he mutters, almost to himself.

You lean back slightly, satisfied and victorious, watching as he shakily adjusts his clothes. The post-climactic haze softens his usual sharp edges.

But then his gaze snaps back to yours, -vulnerable and searching- like he's trying to understand what just happened, or what it means.

You grab a tissue, breaking the tension with a teasing smirk as you clean yourself off. "You're not going to forget this, are you?"

Henry's lips twitch as if he's fighting a smile, but his eyes remain serious.

"No" he says simply, his voice steady despite the faint tremor of his hands. "I don't think I could if I tried."

His answer causes you to chuckle softy. You begin to gather your things, breaking eye contact to avoid lingering too long in the still charged atmosphere. As you stand, you glance back at him, offering a small smile.

"See you around, Henry."

He doesn't respond, only watches you stand and leave, his expression a mix of longing, frustration and something deeper he hasn't fully realized yet.

As you step out into the cool evening air, you can't help but feel a spark of exhilaration. You've rattled him -really rattled him- and something tells you this is far from over.

ΗΔΟΝΟΘΗΡΙΑ. (ii)

Soon.

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the woman | k.m

⎯⎯"Are you quite finished glaring daggers, love? I believe the poor woman is in danger of bursting into flames under your stare alone," you merely inhaled sharply and said, "How many women have you been with?"

warnings: jealous reader, his body count

You were in a terrible mood.

A mood so terrible that if Klaus so much as breathed the wrong way, you might throw a whole bookshelf at his head.

And he knew it. Oh, he knew it.

Klaus had been watching you with barely concealed amusement for the last hour as you sat stiffly beside him, arms crossed, lips pursed into a sour little thing that only deepened every time you glanced across the room.

Because she was still there. Still there.

The woman—some elegant, annoyingly beautiful vampire—was speaking with Elijah, but you hadn’t missed the way she had looked at Klaus earlier. The way she had leaned in just a little too close, touched his arm a little too easily, smiled a little too sweetly.

And Klaus, smug bastard that he was, had done nothing to reassure you.

He was enjoying this. Reveling in it. The way your jaw tightened, the way your fingers curled into your dress every time he shifted as if he might go over and speak to her. The way you had barely spoken to him since.

You wanted to kill him.

No, first you wanted to interrogate him. Then you would kill him.

So, when he finally turned to you, full of that insufferable, knowing smirk, and drawled, "Are you quite finished glaring daggers, love? I believe the poor woman is in danger of bursting into flames under your stare alone," you merely inhaled sharply and said, "How many women have you been with?"

Klaus actually startled. He had not been expecting that.

He blinked at you, expression caught somewhere between amusement and intrigue. "Come again?"

"You heard me," you said, narrowing your eyes. "How many? And don’t you dare lie to me. You’re a thousand years old, Klaus. You’ve had—what? Dozens? Hundreds?" Your voice pitched slightly, your stomach twisting at the thought. "Thousands?"

Klaus let out a low chuckle, leaning back as if the entire conversation delighted him. "My, my, such interest in my past dalliances. Shall I write you a list? Organize them by century?"

"Don’t test me," you hissed, poking a sharp finger into his chest. "Who was the first?"

"The first?" He raised a brow. "Darling, I was human then. It hardly counts."

"It counts. Who was she?"

Klaus tilted his head, studying you, before smirking. "You really want to know?"

You narrowed your eyes. "Yes."

He leaned in, voice dropping to a murmur, "She was a farmer’s daughter. Had a laugh like chimes. Sweet thing." He paused, lips twitching. "Though, between you and me, I doubt she’d be much competition."

You gasped, shoving him. "Klaus!"

He laughed, outright laughed at your outrage, utterly enchanted by your jealousy. "Oh, come now, love. Surely you don’t expect me to recount every name—"

"I do!" You gritted your teeth. "And I want details."

"Details," he repeated, amused beyond belief.

"Yes! Like—like that one." You pointed across the room at the woman who had been talking to Elijah. "Who is she? Have you slept with her?"

Klaus barely glanced at her. "I haven’t the faintest idea."

"Liar!"

He laughed again, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you flush against him, despite your continued outrage. "Sweetheart, you wound me. Do you really think so little of my devotion?"

"I think you have an obscene amount of ex-lovers and you don’t even remember half their names!" you huffed, still fuming. "Do you even recall the names of the women you have been with?"

Klaus hummed, pressing his lips to your temple in a gesture that was entirely too fond considering you were still contemplating murder. "I recall the only one that matters."

You froze. Just for a second. Just long enough for the meaning to sink in.

Damn him.

You tried, tried not to let it affect you, but Klaus saw the way your breath hitched, the way your fingers twitched against his chest. And oh, his smirk was unbearable now.

"That’s not fair," you muttered, cheeks hot.

"Oh, but love, you were the one so eager for reminiscence." He ran a hand up your back, soothing, teasing. "Shall I continue? Tell you about the Venetian noblewoman who tried to poison me? Or perhaps the pirate’s wife I rather enjoyed scandalizing—"

You slapped a hand over his mouth, scowling. "Shut. Up."

Klaus laughed against your palm, eyes glowing with mirth as he pried your fingers away just enough to murmur, "I think I rather enjoy this side of you, sweetheart."

You huffed, but Klaus merely grinned, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your palm before capturing your chin between his fingers and tilting your face up to his.

"For the record," he murmured, voice softer now, rougher, "there is no one in this world, in any century, who has held my heart the way you do."

Your breath caught, and oh, you hated him for how easily he turned the tables, for how your jealousy melted into something warm and insufferably fond.

Still, you squinted. "You definitely don’t remember half their names, though."

Klaus smirked. "No, love. But I’ll always remember yours."

thank youuu anon for this request <3 I hope you enjoy it! 🤭 tbh I would react the same way

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Second Chances Masterlist

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader

Series Summary: A chance meeting in a grocery store brings a second chance for you and for Beau. The only thing standing in your way are your respective pasts… and a tiny little roadblock.

Series Warnings: Some 18+ smut/implied smut, lots of fluff, some police work, a few chapters dealing with a serial killer. Single mom, kids, too.

A/N: I can’t say ‘no’ to Beau! Had to write him again. This is a different story involving Beau and x female reader, separate from Come Find Me.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen | Part Seventeen | Part Eighteen | Part Nineteen | Part Twenty |

(COMPLETED 20/20 - Sequel coming 02/17/2025!)

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