#henry danger smut

[queen-of-writing-bad-things]

Henry Danger The Movie Reader Insert | Captain Man x Reader + Platonic!Henry Hart x Reader: Masterlist

| Status | Ongoing!

It all just kind of happened. A boy needed a job…and a hero needed a sidekick. So, that boy became a kid, and that Kid became Danger. 

Four years after his sidekick career ended, Henry is the saviour of Dystopia, fighting crime with Jasper at his side. They’ve come a long way since their childhoods in Swellview, never forgetting who and what they left behind, but time moved on.

For Ray and (y/n), that meant retirement. The end of Danger Force. A home in the country. A baby. A chance at settling down with the family they always wanted. And, for one year, that’s what they had.

Life is good when there’s no crime to worry about, no villains to fight, and no meddling kids to clean up after. That is until Missy Martin came along. 

It seems their story isn’t quite finished yet…

This story is mature in places with adult themes and language and uses she/her pronouns for a female reader. However, anyone is free to read and enjoy :)

Main Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1: Old Friends, New Foes

Chapter 2: Luchar

Chapter 3: Are You Mad?

Chapter 4: Falling

Chapter 5: Oh, My God...I'm in Hell

Chapter 6: Reunited

[louscartridge]

sooooooo who wants me to write some jace norman smut 😁

😁

[marryarcane]

I don't want backshots, I want to get shot in the back.

WHY AM I SEEING SMUT ALL OVER MY PAGE 😔 someone recom me very hard angsty very angsty fics that make me look like that in the pic 😔🙏

[gojosatoruhumper]

Kinktober 2024 day 5

Ray Manchester x reader | bondage

Prompt: After Ray finds out Henry’s mom has a single sister, he gets excited.

Warnings: bondage, kidnapping lowkey, cursing, dirty talk, slight age gap, NSFW

Not proof read, also a little rushed

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Henry and his boss, Ray, were standing in the Hart’s family’s kitchen, discussing business when the blond boys mom caught Ray’s eyes once again. It wasn’t the first time it happened, whether he would be Ray or Captain man.

He started complimenting her, while Henry watched the scene before him, getting annoyed. “Hey Ray, I think it’s time for you to go home..” he says, starting to push him towards the door.

“Henry don’t be so rude, c’mon Ray stay for dinner” “My sister Y/n is coming over too” Mrs. Hart said smiling, oblivious to the fat crush Ray has on her. “No no no, he needs to go” Henry quickly said. “Well of course mrs. Hart, I’d love to stay” he said with a wide smile while Henry sighed.

All of the Hart family (plus Ray) were seated across the table, talking and joking around (Henry and Piper arguing) until they heard the door ringing. “Oh that must be Y/n” Mrs. Hart stood up walking to the door.

Ray peaked over to see how the Y/n looked like but he never expected what he was about to see. The most beautiful girl in her mid-twenties, with the prettiest smile he has ever seen.

“Hi y/n” almost everyone greeted, except for Ray. “This is Ray by the way, Henry’s boss” Mrs. Hart spoke, sitting beside her husband while you sat beside the handsome man, smiling and reaching out your hand to greet him.

“Well hello, Ray” you said with a flirty smile. “Hello, nice to meet you” he replied, straightening up.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Ray with his charms was getting to you, hitting on you every chance he got. Even Henry was surprised he didn’t say anything about his mom even once. As you were catching up with Piper and her ranting about how she got 4 likes less on her post than one of her friends you felt a big hand grasp your thigh, squeezing it.

You gasp at the gesture, Piper thinking you reacted to her rant she spoke up “I know right!! I deserved those likes way more than her” she started talking again but you weren’t really listening to her anymore. All you could think about was the hand that was now going up your mini skirt

His fingers were getting closer to your cunt, heat spreading across your body. Ray was unbothered, praising Henry how much of a good job he was doing at Junk N’ Stuff to Mrs. and Mr. Hart.

You gripped Ray’s hand, that was now rubbing your clit, coughing. “I think I should go now guys” you said “I have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow..” you said smiling while standing up, fixing your skirt. “You guys should come over at my place for dinner some day” you said, looking over at Ray.

“Am I invited?” he raised an eyebrow. “Yeah sure” you quickly replied and saying your goodbyes.

“Well I think i should be going too” “Have some work stuff I have to do..” he trailed off, having something in mind.

“Awh are you sure you don’t want to stay for dessert?” Mrs. Hart said. “Oh no, Im good. Thank you for the dinner it was so good” he said leaving quickly. “Huh, is something happening at your job tomorrow?” Henry’s mom asked Henry. “Uh yeah” the boy replied knowing Ray is probably going to do something stupid.

You were walking on the dark streets when suddenly someone grabbed you by your waist, and suddenly everything went black.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You woke up on a couch, with Ray walking towards you. “Hi y/n” hs said smiling. “Ray? what am i doing here?” you said confused. “Someone tried to attack you and I saved you, you fainted” he lied a little.

“Where are we?” you asked sitting up, looking around. “At my place, I didn’t really know where you live, so I took you here” he said hovering over you. He had a noticeable bulge in his jeans that didn’t go unnoticed. You could tell he was big.

Flashbacks from dinner got to you, slowly getting up, closer to Ray. He was tall. Much taller than you. You reached up to his face, yanking his lips to yours.

“Ray, I don’t know what you’re doing to me but i need you right here right now” you gasped as his hands flew to grab your ass. “I have that charm on women” he jokingly said, pulling in for another kiss.

You both got on the couch, Ray already without a shirt on making out while he ripped off your button up, the buttons flying everywhere. You gasp at the cold air hitting your skin, which gets shut by Ray’s lips.

“I want you” you gasp out, gripping his big biceps. “Yeah?” “How bad?” he asks, hands going down your waist. “Alot.” you say as he pulls down your skirt along with your panties, throwing them somewhere.

Ray took out some kind of device “i wanted to try this one out for while” he said looking down at you, pressing the little button. On seconds ropes tied around your arms, waist and neck.

You moaned at the thought of being completely in Ray’s hands. He took off your bra with one swift move, smirking. “You like this?” “You kinky whore?” he asked, flipping you over, pussy out in the air. You felt a spank on your cheek, moaning at the feeling.

“How bad you want it?” he asked, unzipping his pants. “Really bad, Ray” you pleased, gripping your own skin because your hands were tied to the side of your waist. “Say it again” he finally took out his cock with the tip throbbing at this point, slapping your ass with it.

“Say my name again” he repeated. “R-ray please” you plead as you finally felt him push himself in you. He was even bigger than you expected. Tears started rolling off your cheeks, half from pain, half from pleasure.

He shoved his fingers down your throat, thrusting fully in you. “Yeah whore you enjoying this?” he asked, head falling back. “M-mhm” you murmured because that’s all you could say at that point

Every thrust he was getting all your right places, no man has ever done that. He flipped you over on your back, quickly pulling back in. He went up to your face, pushing his tongue down, almost choking you.

Your cheeks were now stained with mascara and dried tears as Ray went down your neck and tits leaving dark bruises. You started moaning uncontrollably as your climax was coming close, as-well as Ray, who had his hands tightly gripped on your thighs.

“Yeah cum for me Y/n” he said with lust as you came on his dick while he was still thrusting. He didn’t stop nor slow down at all, chasing his climax that was so close. With one last moan of yours he gave out and ejected into you.

He helped you get out the ropes as he put on his boxers on, flexing his biceps hoping you will notice. Let’s get into the hot tub okay?” he asked.

“How rich are you?” you asked half jokingly half not. “Don’t worry about it” As he went to the other room to get something as you stood up to look around.

It looked like a cozy living room, until you pressed a button and one of the door’s opened, revealing a lab like room with a bunch of monitors and stuff. “RAY WHAT IS THIS” you screamed surprised. He quickly ran over to you “Y/n you wasn’t supposed to see this” he quickly regretted bringing you to the man cave. But also for some reason trusted you, so he told you about who he is.

“My nephew is Kid Danger??” “When did that kid become so cool” you questioned, more excited about Henry being kid danger than being in a hot tub with Captain Man himself.

[xoxomirrorball]

master list

⭒ - indicates nsfw content

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

RIORDANVERSE .

percy jackson

jason grace

HENRY DANGER .

henry hart

MIRACULOUS LADYBUG .

adrienette (all love square)

chlonette

lukadrien

marigami

MARAUDERS .

james potter

wolfstar

jegulus

jily

HARRY POTTER .

harry potter

fred weasley

george weasley

[theblackcatwitch4]

what’s up my loves please follow my Wattpad feel free to request smut fluff, angst, whatever it is

Go crazy send as many requests as possible and go into the most detail

feel free to message me on Wattpad or request on here

I only have Riverdale imagines up right now, but as soon as I start getting more requests, all kinds of stories will be up

If you guys want me to post on here as well, let me know because I will happily do that

I mostly only write x reader

I can write like multiple characters, as long as there’s like an X reader involved

the main fandoms that I write for :

Criminal mind

Bones

Riverdale

Grey’s Anatomy

Supernatural

The vampire diaries

The originals

Legacies

Shameless 

Scream (the slasher movie)

Teen Wolf

Outer Banks

Riverdale

The 100

13 reasons why

Chilling adventures of Sabrina

Surviving summer

Cobra Kai

Henry danger

Matt and Chris sturniolo

Sam Golbach

Colby Brock

Nate hardy 

If there’s a different TV show that you want me to write for or a different character than one of the actors from one of these shows have played



[astrum-aetherium]

just got my nails done and they’re strawberry themed :3 cant wait to jack off henry with em

— flea

fuckkkkk, the mental image of that is coaxing me into a realm i fear there might be no return from. as someone who likes to get their nails done (or at least pretty and presentable through one's own efforts), this is etching away at the last remaining shreds of sanity i'm unfortunately still dealing with.

to be honest, he would love a pretty manicure. i said what i said. any color would be fine, just the sole fact — beautifully tended to fingernails — would be very pleasing to him, as i can imagine. hell, i can see him as someone who would appreciate a beautiful pair of hands, even be an occasional hand kisser and whatnot — and then, to see them wrapped around his cock as you'd work it in anticipation of something greater... let's just say his stoicism would be chipped away at quite rudely, yet effectively.

thanks for the idea, flea. this will settle in my mind and never leave.

[alieninyourroom]

hihiii, i’m alieninyourrom :) i decided i want to make little ffs so here i am !! request to your hearts desire.

Warning: I do fem readers since i am not really knowledgeable on others, my apologies.

here are some fandoms you can ask for..

Harry Potter !

Spider man !

The Summer i Turned Pretty !

Henry Danger !

Avatar the Last Airbender !

and etccc.. (i will only write them if i know the show 😭)

I WRITE smut, fluff, and angst.

I DO NOT WRITE about minors.

Requests are open once i figure out how to open them 😭😭

[incoherentmorals]

soft! joel miller x fem reader

warnings ? fluff, slightly angsty, outbreak au, joel and reader just want to live in a nice house and adopt ellie, they're just soft parents tbh, no smut, henry and sam are here !! but just briefly mentioned, joel opens up kinda

the remnants of today settle in your bones as you lay on the cold floor, using your backpack as a pillow. in the distance you can hear joel and henry doing the same, probably feeling as exhausted as you are. the hope within you isn't entirely gone; henry says he knows a way and ellie is happy to currently have a new friend— sam’s a great kid.

you can feel your eyelids growing heavy while you think about the previous days and what needs to be done in the ones that will soon come. find supplies to keep the trip going, reach the desired destination and hand ellie over ... that last task is what keeps you up most nights but not tonight.

before you know it, sleep wins over you and you fall fast asleep.

joel’s eyes are on you from where he's supposedly sleeping. he stares at your back, the way your body moves as you breathe and he sits up.

it hasn't been smooth these past few days, not at all, and your last conversation wasn't peachy either. you would always argue about ellie’s situation and how dangerous it was to hand her over to some complete strangers — and before he used the we're strangers too card, you would tell him to fuck off. you were right of course; the three of you had been travelling together for months so he'd be a big hypocrite to say that he didn't feel that familial bond tugging at his gut.

he checks around making sure that henry is fast asleep and the door to the kids’ room is properly shut. after that he proceeds to drop his backpack next to yours before laying by your side.

you're not exactly a light sleeper but nonetheless you can feel the shift behind you, the sudden change that you're not alone anymore.

“hm?” you turn around slowly until you're facing joel in a proper manner.

joel doesn't reply, doesn't even bother to be vocal at that moment. he simply stares at you and although his face is peaceful, you can tell his mind is at war. all it takes is for you to raise your hand and cup his cheek softly for the fight in joel’s mind to cease.

you watch as his eyes close and you wait, your fingers brushing back and forth over his cheek.

when joel opens his eyes again, they're glassy, and the realization that he trusts you enough to cry in front of you finally dawns.

“I don't want to let this go.” you hear him whisper and you shuffle closer to him, just enough to hear better.

your fingers slide from his jaw up to the back of his ear and you repeat the motion often. it is soothing for him, you realize.

“me neither.” you mumble and you can tell that he appreciates how thoughtful you're being with the distance — you just *know* he needs enough space to breathe. to not feel confined.

“joel.” your voice grounds him to reality, to light. he keeps his eyes on you as you speak and tries to focus on the sound of your gentle voice. “whatever happens in the end, whatever you choose to do...I will follow you.” his heart clenches a little at your loyalty — it's been a while since he felt this way. probably since tess.

“I promised her.” he says with saddened eyes.

“You can't save everyone.” you reply.

“But ellie can.” joel’s answer silences you both for a moment until those selfish words leave your lips.

“Maybe they don't deserve to be saved.” and while tess would beg to differ, joel wholeheartedly agrees with you. not everyone deserves to be saved.

the night is spent with silent eye contact and the soft brush of your fingers against joel’s face. he eventually places his hand over yours and compares the sizes of your palms — his is simply gigantic compared to yours, or anyone's you've known for that matter.

“What’s that about people telling you your fortune through your veins?” joel asks randomly and you will yourself not to laugh.

“You mean the palm of your hand, old man?” both of you grin and it suddenly feels like another fun pre-apocalyptic thursday.

it is probably an hour later when joel manages to fall asleep with your hand in his, your fingers tightly intertwined.

you've never seen him so peaceful; never witnessed him sleep the way he does now since forever. your heart and mind race because joel’s expression,when he's around you, starts giving off a single feeling. comfort.

you think about stuff again; joel’s and ellie’s dreams after the apocalypse, your dreams, a better world. your mind wanders a million miles but it always comes back to one thing only. the image of a humble house filled with yourself and two other people. that gruff voice and that ashy wave of hair, and then that brownish spark with the most adorable eyes.

it’s a silly thought to want to be a mother to a kid that isn't your own, you think while staring towards the door where sam and ellie are probably sleeping.

it's as silly to consider filling that void in your heart by the side of a worn out man, you think again and your eyes trace joel's face this time. you bring your intertwined hands to your lips and you mindlessly kiss his knuckles, watching as he doesn't stir at all.

despite the sadness tugging at your heartstrings and the bittersweet feeling of ‘dreams just being dreams’ you close your eyes and allow yourself a moment of clarity and of hope.

because maybe things will change, maybe you will not have to wait for the next life to have the family that you want.

[manicpixiefelix]

baby, put your back into it {Farleigh Start/Reader/Oliver Quick}

1/2: i'm gonna talk you through it [SMUT]

Summary: You're the daughter of one of Henrys, and known to be a snobby, entitled Princess of a woman; neither Venetia nor Felix seems to like you. Farleigh, however, claims that you and he have an ongoing arrangement. Felix says that arrangement is that you and Farleigh bitch together, then fuck like wild animals every time you hang out. Turns out you're even bitchier in person, and after a cruel joke played on Oliver by you and Farleigh at the Henrys dinner, he decides to take a bit of power back. Not that it goes as intended... nor that it goes completely wrong.

Need to Know: She/Her. AFAB!Reader. Established FWB Brat!Reader/Brat Tamer!Farleigh

Warnings: PWP!! smut; fingering, oral (F receiving), dirty talk, lots of arguing, reader is very very bratty, demeaning talk, bondage & restraints, explicit discussions around safewords (it does happen a little bit into the action but before anything major), pet name used for the reader "princess"

A/N: 4730 words. okay turns out i can write pwp. i cut out like 1.5k of background and you get the gist of it in the summary. there will be a part 2 thats heavy on the smut, but this trio takes a while to set anything up because they can't stop arguing. hints of farleigh/oliver. this was a lot of fun but again i can't stress how long its been since ive written full, proper smut, so id really appreciate feedback. <3 unedited, i love you.

{ masterpost : 1/2 }

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Fucking Farleigh Start. Oliver feels the fury as it burns and bubbles inside of him, stalking quietly through the halls of Saltburn. There, at the end of the hall, Farleigh's bedroom door, quiet and unassuming, and right next to it, Oliver's target; your door. Farleigh isn't the only one in the house who can wrap people around his little finger; he isn't the only one in the house who can get the Princess to kneel.

Trying the handle, he finds it unlocked, and eases the old, wooden door open.

"Farleigh was right," upon hearing your voice, bright, amused, and very much awake in the dark, Oliver jumps, "you're an A-plus lurker, I didn't even hear you come in."

"Was a nasty thing you did to me tonight," Oliver tries to regain some of his composure, some of the ire he'd built up on the way here.

"So you've snuck into my room, I assume you assumed I was asleep, to- what, wake me up and berate me?" There's something smug and biting in your voice, something that fuels the fury coiling deep in his gut, "that doesn't sound like enough for someone like you, tricksie, little, pauper boy." When you start to move from where you've been sitting up in bed, crawling to the end to sit on your knees as the moonlight streaks through your window and finally paints you in sharp relief, he sees you're already nude.

But even your stunning body in the moonlight cannot compare to the look on your face, the sharp, hungry, mean amusement he's never seen a person wear so well.

"Go on then, shout," your eyes shine dangerously in the moonlight; "don't you want Farleigh to hear?" They might have been right. You might be the devil. Your smile gets wider, and Oliver can only watch, rather transfixed, as you start rolling your hips with purpose, "or do you want him to hear something else?" He hears, quietly at first, a soft tap, getting louder as you keep insistently thrusting against the air, against the mattress, the sound of the bedframe hitting the wall behind it, the wall that you shared with Farleigh on the other side.

Then, all at once, you stopped. A loud, mean laugh is pulled from you as you pitch yourself back on the bed, kicking your legs out in front of you to hang off the edge, completely relaxed, completely exposed. You give a loud, amused sigh, looking up at the canopy of the four poster bed.

"God, you're such a little bitch, Oliver, Farleigh was so right," you snorted, "I was the one who actually saw you eating Venetia like your life depended on it, on the lawn of all places," you shook your head, "I don't know what you told Felix to get out of that one but I know what I saw," clicking your tongue, you raised your leg, pointing a foot at him, not even bothering to look at him, "now you won't even touch me in my own bedroom when I'm practically begging for it. I'm choosing to be offended about that; you've offended me, Oliver."

Slowly, your leg lowers, and you kick your heels idly against the end of the bed in the silence.

"Where do you get all your attitude from?" Oliver finally speaks, tone turning scornful as he approached you.

"The money," you fire back with ease, "which is why you always seem to have none." Then, in the furious silence that followed, you grinned sharply at the roof, still not bothering to look at him, "try harder."

When he touches your knee, his fingers gentle against your skin, you kick him hard in the thigh with your other foot -

"The fuck? Did you just kick me?"

"Yeah, and?" He can almost hear you rolling your eyes, "what did you think it was, the wind? Ghost of Grandma Catton?"

"Do you fuckin' want me or not?" He's still standing within kicking range, he learns too late. All the while you've never even looked at him, always looking at the ceiling, hands comfortably, casually behind your head. There's a smug grin on your lips now, something teasing and once more mean.

"Do you want me?" You respond, legs gliding open, an open invitation to your slick, moon-drenched cunt, "I thought you wanted to use me to get back at Farleigh," you said mockingly, finally looking up and meeting his deep, furious gaze. Propped up on your elbows, you give a grin that's all teeth, "wanted to show us who has the real power, that you can get us back for the stunt we pulled after dinner," you sat up further, intense, hungry amusement in your eyes that drew Oliver in to you, leaning in, his hands coming to rest on your thighs as you were almost nose to nose. Your voice lowers, gaze on his lips as your voice turns to almost a moan, "wanted to show Farleigh that you could take anything he thought was his; even me," and you start fake moaning, softly at first, but getting exponentially louder as you leaned back again, against the bed, arching and writhing from nothing, putting on a show that ended with you shouting - "Oliver's a fucking bitch!" At the top of your lungs, and cackling with glee.

Rage exploded within Oliver, and for a moment, overcome with a strange sense of betrayal at your demonstration, he smacks at your inner thigh with all the might he can muster. He can tell it stings, your laughter stops for just a moment, leg flinching up for just a second, but then you're laughing harder if possible.

"Your first mistake - of many - was letting her talk at all," Farleigh's voice from the door is frankly annoyed. You, however, gasp with delight, sitting directly up and looking at Farleigh with absolute glee.

"That's not his fault, I wasn't going to tell him," you pointed out, before looking down at your thighs, and Oliver's hands still on them, and the part of you that must have still stung from the slap, "why is your grip so soft?" You looked up at him with a derisive expression, and immediately Oliver's grip on you goes tight, nails digging into your skin; you're fucking laughing at him again, still, "awe, you're getting there -"

"Could you stop that already?" Oliver leans in, scowling at you. Eyebrows raising in mock surprise, you grinned with devilish intent.

"Stop what?"

"All that fuckin' talking you're doing."

"I don't know, can I -?" But then out of seemingly nowhere, Farleigh sits himself down at the end of the bed next to you, flush against your side. He's still in his crisp, white shirt, and black slacks, looking so put together next to your brash nudity. When his hand comes up to your jaw, barely two fingers beneath your chin to guide you, to have you looking him in the eyes, you have to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. Both he and Oliver can see how badly you want to laugh, to make any kind of sound, but you hold yourself back.

"Okay, your fucking highness," Farleigh's voice is low and dangerous, full of warning, and Oliver sees you take a sharp breath in, gaze fixed on Farleigh's, "you don't get shit from either of us if you can't keep your dirty mouth closed." Though you nod adamantly, you puff out your cheeks, amusement in your eyes as you're clearly desperate to say something; "what?" Farleigh frowns.

"I have really bad news for you about what I have to do to suck dick," you point out, trying to keep your composure. It's not working, giggles are escaping you at a rapid rate.

"You are testing nerves I didn't even know I had," Oliver admits, desperately trying to sink his nails into you as hard as he could. If he could draw blood, perhaps that would be enough penance for having to endure your infuriating company.

However, it's Farleigh who speaks, lip curling with frustration as he smacks Oliver's hand away from the thigh closest to him. With a solid grip on that thigh, he pulls you leg close to him, forcing your legs wider, exposing you further.

"Then do something about it," he practically orders, and something about the tone sparks a kind of indignation in his chest, "you need me to talk you through it?" He snaps. This, however, quickly turns smug and mean as Farleigh leans in, nose to nose with Oliver and his building frustration with them both; "you know how to eat pussy, right?"

"You should both be very careful what you wish for," Oliver's eyes flash with a dangerous confidence as he sank down on his knees between your legs. You, thrilled and delighted by how the situation was no unfolding, lay yourself back on the bed with contented laughter, hands coming to rest confidently behind your head once more.

Farleigh watches Oliver with intense scrutiny, and for reasons he's not quite sure of, Oliver meets his gaze, refuses to break eye contact. His hand moves first, no longer holding your left thigh, he digs his elbow into your soft inner thigh, bracing his arm against you, forcing your leg further open and keeping it that way, letting him comfortably rest his hand with his thumb on your clit.

"Smart boy," you hum appreciatively, shifting your hips back and forth a little as his thumb is rubbing circles against your clit, "knows where the start button is." He takes his thumb off of you, much to your confusion. His gaze is still locked with Farleigh's. "Fucking hell, are you tired already -?" You sat up on your elbows, scowling at him, but Oliver looks sharply to you.

"Weren't you listening to Farleigh, princess?" Oliver asks, and there's something so deliciously satisfying about the look of flustered surprise on your face in this moment. Beside you, Farleigh huffs a laugh to himself and stands, pulling off his tie. Oliver's full attention, however, is still trained on your. Slowly, as he speaks, he again begins to rub circles against your clit, teasing, never enough proper pressure to be satisfying.

"I -" you started, but he immediately stopped again; out of the corner of his eyes, Oliver sees Farleigh's approving nod. Something about this all has his blood rushing in his fucking ears. You press your lips together, giving him a now expectant look, as if here, I've done what you've asked.

You're so wet, so wanting, ready and waiting, right thigh inching closer, leg curling around him, heel pressing insistently into his back. God you look so fucking good, he wants nothing more than to eat you like a man starving, tasting every inch of you -

"Give me your belt," Farleigh interrupts, and Oliver pauses, mouth literally an inch from your cunt, looking up at Farleigh like he can't quite believe him right now.

"Farleigh!" You exclaim with utter frustration, right leg lashing out to kick him, but he grabs your ankle and holds it tightly. With his free hand he makes an expectant, grabby hand at Oliver.

"Belt, now please." He practically orders.

"Use your own belt, Farleigh," Oliver nods to the belt Farleigh had just tossed to the side of the room, and Farleigh gives him a thin, unamused smile.

"Mine's nicer, and I don't want your cum on it," he explained with a mean, humourless smile. Oliver sat back for a long, furious moment, undoing his belt. The minute his hands were off of you, you tried to whine, but Farleigh, now just in his boxers, sat further up the bed beside you.

"This is overkill, I'll be good," you pouted, twisting to lay your head on his thigh, looking up at him with as pleading eyes as you could manage.

"You're not even being good right now," he pointed out; "both your thighs are over Oliver's fucking shoulders, and you haven't gone thirty seconds without saying something," but clearly you're pleased and flustered at being called out. Farleigh says your name more insistently, and you try and play innocent before he practically orders, "get your fucking legs off of him!" Like he can't quite believe you're still trying these tricks, even though you both seem comfortable in this dynamic.

"Oliver~" Farleigh then practically sings like a warning, gaze turning much colder as it falls back on Oliver himself, "where are we with that belt?"

"What's it for anyways?" Oliver finally pulls his belt free, awkwardly half throwing it to Farleigh, who does actually thank him, before his attention is back on you, bare and warm and wet and - "princess," he says suddenly before Farleigh can even answer his initial question, looking up, and you make a noise of acknowledgement, "you want me to touch you like I mean it, then keep your legs spread like you actually fucking want it," voice going low and sharp, immediately you widen your legs as best you can.

"Oh, he's good," Farleigh says, surprisingly appreciatively, watching as Oliver makes a meal of you.

Finally, finally, Oliver's mouth is on you, tongue gliding playfully along your slit, his nose continually bumping his thumb as it continues to work your clit, firmer this time. You hips wriggle and roll with him, desperate for more, growing frustrated with his teasing lightness.

"The belt can be for several things," Farleigh began, matter-of-factly as he began to loop the belt through itself, focusing on his task at hand, "if she insists on closing her legs, I'm not above using both belts to make sure she keeps them open - this bedframe's especially good for that -" a hot spike of desire passes through Oliver all at once, picturing you bound and open and begging -

"Oh, don't joke about that Farleigh, come on, you know I love that -" you actually whimpered, but Oliver, still keeping in mind the earlier warning, once more stops entirely. You gasp, as if betrayed, before remembering for yourself, actually whining, "you guys fucking suck," you whimper petulantly. For a moment, Oliver wonders if he really aught to be here, if this strange, psychosexual encounter was really worth it.

"You're fucking loving this," Farleigh countered without a moment of hesitation, saying it with such confidence that it almost surprised Oliver, "you just hate that you can't shut the fuck up for any amount of time, and that Oliver isn't actually as much of a little bitch as you thought," clearing his throat, Farleigh cast an evaluative look, before trying to shrug it off nonchalantly, "as either of us thought, I guess."

A moment of quiet stillness passes, and Oliver looks to you, face scrunched up with embarrassment, as all of Farleigh's words apparently rang true.

"Are you hourly, Oliver?" Farleigh then scowls, much to Oliver's confusion. Farleigh looks at him like he's a downright idiot, "the princess is actually being quiet, which means..." he trailed off pointedly. Oliver sat back on his heels, frowning at Farleigh for a long moment, his hands coming to rest on your knees. You, yet again growing incredibly unsatisfied, groaned into your hands.

"Not if you're gonna talk to me like that," Oliver takes a deep breath, sitting tall, gaze unflinching as he meets Farleigh's sneering gaze.

"Then fuck off, Little Orphan Ollie, we don't need you," he spits, "you should really feel lucky that you even got this far -"

"You're all talk, Farleigh," Oliver, with a newfound confidence, and his hands on you, rubbing small, gentle circles against your inner thighs with his thumbs. Farleigh's eyes narrow, but Oliver's smile turns knowing, "I know you can throw her around, and tie her up, and give her orders, clearly," he tips his head ever so slightly to the side, gaze slipping to you, to where you've still got your face covered by your hands, "but we both know no-one can speak for her, but her."

The faint, frustrated whimpering that had been escaping you this entire time goes dead silent. Oliver feels the way you go very still. Farleigh, realising what Oliver meant, also turned to look at you properly.

"'s your bedroom, princess," Oliver leans in, presses a kiss to your inner thigh, murmuring softly against your skin, "what do you think?"

"I think you're edging each other with psychosexual, power-play, bullshit-banter that's doing fucking nothing for me," you snap behind your hands, "and I'm gonna start kicking people again very soon," you warned. Farleigh rolled his eyes.

"Sit up," he sighed.

"No."

"Make a choice," Oliver told you, tone firmer this time.

"Also no." Your voice was sounding particularly petulant, and you even brought your knees together, closing yourself off in front of Oliver. After a long, vaguely irate silence, Farleigh takes a deep breath.

"Is something wrong? Are we at a yellow light? Red light?" He asks, tone far gentler, he leans over, fingers gentle against your hairline by your fingertips.

"Light... colours?" Oliver asks with genuine confusion. Farleigh is far less patient when he turns on Oliver, like he's frustrated to even be explaining this.

"Like a traffic light; instead of a safety word like pineapple, we have green - go, yellow - slow down, red - stop," said like he wanted to include duh, obviously on the end, but refrained, turning back to you.

"And... they're for her?" Intrigued and surprisingly endeared by the concept, Oliver leans forward with a little smile, resting his chin on one of your knees, looking between yourself and Farleigh. He watches you sigh, even with your hands over your face.

"How do you not know how safe words work? What kind of sex have you been having?" Farleigh's judgemental tone hits Oliver square in the chest, but before he can even answer, you finally sit up, expression wide and overwhelmed with frustration.

"Farleigh look at him; he's like if they made repression a person! He's been having the most boring, vanilla sex known to man - if any - and getting off in his spare time to things that would make God cry. Look him in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong -" Farleigh's gaze flicked to Oliver, who suddenly felt himself begin to flush scarlet, and had to sit back again, frowning at his hands. There was something about the shame at being so concisely called out that was... thrilling. Something about how clearly you could see through him, through his persona to the raw want at his very core, it was freeing. You sat up further, with purpose, grabbing Oliver's chin so roughly it shocked him, forcing him to look in your eyes for a long moment.

"You came in here with purpose thinking I was asleep; creepy, hot, deranged; I'm into it," you told him sternly, "I literally could not care less about you otherwise, you're nothing to me the rest of the time. You came here to put me in my place, I don't want you here if you can't do that." Fucking hell, Oliver can feel his heartbeat racing as you shove his face away, your expression almost bordering on disgust.

"So you're..." Farleigh, as if frustrated by this little tirade you saw fit to go on, was unimpressed as he once more checked in.

"Green light, obviously," you threw your hands into the air in exasperation, "it's like you've never met me before -" but before you can slump back against the bed like you so clearly wanted to, Farleigh catches you, shifts behind you to prop you up.

"You're a brat," Oliver says, finally finding the words for the dynamic, and rather charmed by it all. Still, Farleigh has to get a word in edgewise.

"How long 'd it take you to figure that out?" He muttered sarcastically, doing something behind your back while you made a show of struggling and wiggling, refusing to keep your left arm with whatever he was doing.

"So," Oliver clarified, testing out the code, "green light?" You grinned at him, giving a pleased nod. Farleigh, finally having caught your left hand seemingly for good, reiterates the statement distractedly. Then, with a sense of triumph and relief, he pulls the belt, and his makeshift handcuffs, tight.

"Why are you still dressed?" You ask Oliver sharply. You may have had a point, but the game was back on. With your hands secured, Farleigh sat back behind you on the bed, pulling you flush to him, arms secured and pressed between the two of you that was just edging on uncomfortable.

"Why are you still talking?" He mutters into your ear, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, one hand coming to wrap over your mouth, while his other curled around your middle, pulling your legs apart, wasting no time in dipping two long, elegant fingers into you. Your eyes light up, gasping against his hand as the two of you watch with lust in your eyes as Oliver begins to undress.

"The belt," Farleigh's voice has that lazy kind of smugness that Oliver usually hated, but now kind of makes his head fuzzy and kind of like he wants to sink his teeth into him, "is to keep the princess in her place, because someone," he says pointedly, not that you seem to notice; your eyes are closed, and Farleigh's thumb is on your clit while the fingers he has inside of you curl lovingly into your sweet spot, "manages to escape every pair of padded handcuffs either of us have ever bought," he explains, turning his attention back to Oliver, "and she complains about metal handcuffs, and zip ties, has undone every rope knot I've ever tied, and ruined every single tie I've ever tried to tie her up with."

"I bought you new ones," your voice is faint, half a moan muffled behind Farleigh's hand, and Oliver, still unsure of how to respond to any of that, finally turns back to the two of you on the bed. There's something desperate about the way you're arching against Farleigh's firm hold on you, legs having fallen open as your hips rolled in time with his fingers, lewd and needy. But Farleigh's eyes are only on Oliver, watching him with hunger in his eyes, pupils blown wide, gaze roaming over Oliver's physique.

At the sound of your voice, Farleigh's gaze meets Oliver's his smile widening just a touch before he stops entirely. A desperate keening is pulled from you, hips shifting for friction, for anything, as Farleigh rests his hand on your thigh, fingers slick, practically dripping with you.

"No, I'll be good," you whimper, eyes fluttering, half closed, "I'll be -" you were already breathing heavy, "so so good."

"Hear that?" Farleigh murmurs with a vindictive little smile, hand uncovering your mouth, moving to hold your chin, your mouth falling open in a moan as his nails scratch up your thighs. Oliver advances on you both, entranced by the sight of you both, desperate to have a taste, to play along.

"Think she even knows how to be good?" Oliver teases, once more between your thighs. Still, instead of giving you the same kind of proper relief that Farleigh had been offering, he starts out gentle once more.

"Oliver, you're so cruel," you whimper. Farleigh's hand moves from your jaw to wrap around your middle, holding you secure, while the hand that had sat on your thigh moves to your open mouth, Oliver watches, rapt, as he slides both slick digits past your lips, but it shuts you up well enough, lips closing on his fingers as you diligently lap up your own taste from him.

"See, can't trust a word she says," Farleigh purrs. You bite gently on his fingers as you moan, Oliver finally deciding to do more than just tease you. Oliver's fingers are shorter than Farleigh's, but damn if they can't still hit the same high notes. Curling and pressing in a steady rhythm, he alternates dipping his tongue in as much as he can, and circling your clit. Farleigh's hand has moved from your mouth, spit slicked fingers pinching at your nipples, lightly dragging his nails across your skin, while he's started rolling his hips against your back, cock unbearably hard and still confined to his boxers, pressed against you.

You're whimpering and moaning in his ear, straining against your handcuffs, arching, writhing, but Oliver's holding your thighs still and secure and Farleigh is captivated by how enthusiastically he's going down on you, how its shining on his cheeks, his nose - he reaches out, cards his fingers through Oliver's hair. Oliver looks up through his lashes, a fucking gorgeous sight that you're too lost to appreciate. Just for Farleigh.

God he could say something snide, something about sloppy seconds or something about this being the most expensive meal he'll ever have, but he doesn't. He gives a sly, approving smile, and his grip on Oliver's hair tightens.

"Teeth and tongue," he tells Oliver quietly. Oliver doesn't seem to get it at first, but you choke out a whine, arching further into Farleigh, tipping your head against his.

"That's cheating," you gasped, but Farleigh kept running his fingers through Oliver's hair, whose mouth had never left your cunt, nor his eyes Farleigh's face, "you're helping him cheat; you want me to cum this early?"

"You know what's cheating?" Farleigh once more grabbed your chin, angling your head so you could watch Oliver working hard to get you off, "look at him," Farleigh murmurs in your ear, "eyes open, on his," the commanding tone was hard to refuse, and your eyes fluttered open; the fucking sight of him, a mess between your legs, Farleigh's hand in his hair, was almost enough to send you over the edge, "tell him what I mean."

"Gentle- uh, gentle teeth on me- on my-" you desperately tried to string two words together as Oliver began to get more of an idea. Farleigh's hand on his head becoming more insistent, firmer, nose pressed firm against your skin when he finally took the hint, focusing on your clit, sucking and lapping at it, teeth gently teasing as you completely lost the ability to speak. The rhythm of his fingers was consistent and firm throughout it all, pressing just right -

"Keep your fucking eyes on him," Farleigh ordered, almost snarling it into your ear, "I want you to watch Oliver Quick make you cum." But Oliver had eyes only for him, feeling you clench around his fingers, thighs pressing desperately against his shoulder and the hand that had kept them apart, he could feel Farleigh's nails on his scalp and see the heady, smug pride in his eyes.

As you start to come down, breathing hard and heavy and leaning all your weight against Farleigh, you giggle with out of breath contentment.

"Princess's got not manners," Oliver shook his head with an air of disappointment, and Farleigh smirked, brushing some hair from Oliver's forehead before he reached up and tapped your cheek gently.

"Say thank you, Oliver."

"Thank you, Oliver," you grinned, tone surprisingly sincere, as Oliver crawled up onto the bed beside you both. But there's something dark and hungry in his eyes as he watched you both; reaching out, he presses the fingers against Farleigh's lips, your cum coating them like syrup. Farleigh is more than happy to lick them clean, tongue dancing lewdly around Oliver's digits, all kinds of inuendo and promise in his eyes.

Then, Oliver's attention turns on you something dark, hungry, almost deranged in his eyes. He takes your face in hand.

"And you, princess," he says derisively, not even respecting you enough to look you in the eyes in this moment, "this is not your place that I am putting you in," god it almost sounds like a threat, but you're already squirming with want and anticipation, "but we'll get there," he squeezes your cheeks and your mouth opens on command, tongue as pink and wet and desperate as your cunt had been. He spits in your mouth, sudden sneer curling his lip, blue eyes ice cold and demeaning; "and it's thank you, Oliver Quick."

You feel fucking filthy, can taste yourself in his spit.

You want him to do it again.

"Thank you, Oliver Quick."

{ part two here }

[queen-of-writing-bad-things]

you guys. i have seen the henry danger movie. omg…

CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW GOOD IT IS??? also i will be discussing SPOILERS, so if u haven’t seen it yet DO NOT READ!!

okay first of all. DOOOOOOFUSSS!! it was so good to see ray again, speaking as a ray girlie. he was only in it for like what? 5 seconds? best five seconds of my life and omg he looked SO HOT. woof woof

but also jace? i’ve always preferred Captain Man but goddamn jace looked so fine in this movie especially in the shimmers scene in his open neck shirt. just chef’s kiss sir. i love our angsty boi although it feels like he’s only been in dystopia for a little bit and he’s already left?

interesting but i have no idea when the movie is set on the timeline—like is it after danger force?

i think the shimmers scene was my favourite. the whole movie is just exceptionally good like i enjoyed the thundermans movie but it wasn’t 10/10 perfection with the pacing and storyline. maybe i’m biased but henry danger was great. exactly what i wanted to see after the car crash that was the end of danger force.

the camera work and cgi and script are just so good. the writers clearly got the henry danger nostalgia and ran with it for us older fans whilst still retaining something young or even new fans. the entire hour or so flew by and i was smiling throughout all of it, just loving all the references and seeing all my favourite characters again.

plus, i think missy was a great character. sometimes the kids in danger force get on my nerves but she was just so sweet and funny. also her writing fanfiction just called me out. it’s like the writers were staring right at me - the smut writer lol

am i a little sad that charlotte/riele couldn’t be in it? yes, but they still mentioned her, so i think it’s fine. plus, they hinted at a cliffhanger that might mean more in the dangerverse (maybe another show like what they’re doing with the thundermans?)

overall i think they did the dangerverse fandom justice. they could’ve screwed it up so easily but it was such a fun, lighthearted thing and i really enjoyed it.

obvs i’m still finishing off the main story and there’s still two seasons of df for me to rewrite. HOWEVER!

will i be rewriting this movie with our sweet girl? hell yes i am. miss danger is gonna team up with her bby boi henry hart.

[louscartridge]

HIII omg youre like the only active person writing for Henry Danger and i would like to request dating headcanons with Henry!! (x female reader please!)

A/N- omg no fr it makes me so upset that there's so little fanfics (especially good ones💀) for the danger verse😭

CW- ngl these are kinda halfassed and writen on like 3 hours of sleep, not proof read (only spell checked), physical touch, the L bomb, angst, death, and suggestive if you do the squintiest squint, thats it??

❥ his love language is physical touch and words of affirmation. fight me.

❥ hes gives kinda golden retriever bf vibes, but not like overly or whatever yk??

❥i feel like for your first date, he might want to try hard and do something nice or whatever, especially if you guys weren't friends before hand, but he prefers to just stay home with you and hang out.

❥ i feel like he said 'i love you' first tbh.

you were in (yet another) life or death situation, and he was like kinda panicking. he was getting annoyed with how slow shwoz was working to try and save you or whatever, and he started ranting and somewhere in the rant he ended up saying he loves to, however you heard him say it.

once you were very much so alive and ok, you said it back to him.

❥you'll never miss the chance to sleepover at henrys house. ever. even if you guys have had an argument that same day, or the day before. then however, instead of sleeping in the same bed as him, you'll sleep on the couch that up in the corner of his room.

❥ at first piper definitely tells you that you can do better 💀

❥ you know about his past minor loyalty issues, but he quickly gains absolutely all of your trust once he finds out that you were overthinking it.

❥jasper lowkey be your hype man ngl

❥i wouldn't necessarily say that gift giving is one of his love languages, but if its yours or you want something, hell have absolutely no issue in getting you whatever it is.

❥ when you guys first started dating, you would sneak through his window at night all the time, or after school. one time tho, henrys dad ended up catching you. surprisingly tho, he wasent really upset. he was just like "omg this is awesome this is like the most 'rebellious' teenage activity we've ever gotten out of him" and after stifly waving at you he just walked away.

❥ henry stutters alot when you make him nervous. (which by the way is quite easy to do)

❥ he pays attention to the little stuff just as much as you do tbh.

❥ i feel like he'd make forts with you 😭 he likes making them at night tho, cause then they have less of a chance of getting ruined by his sister. plus, then you guys can go to sleep in them.

❥ catches your hand from a high five so you end up holding hands.

❥ whenever he get jealous, for the most part hes chill. he knows you'll be good on your own, but hell keep a close eye out just incase.

❥ hes pretty protective tho. once again, he knows you can handle yourself, but sometimes people are so rude to you and it makes him mad. however, he tries to keep his composure for everyone sake, and embarrassment.

❥ i feel like hed want to play with your hair?? like you guys would be laying so your back was facing him, and you just feel him start to play with your hair. you could tell he started to attempt to braid it. "henry stop you're gonna make it all tangled" "you want me to make it all tangled?"

[obsessedelusional]

guilty pleasure (smut)

paring ↬ Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary ↬ A drunken night leads to a hookup with none other than Eddie Munson. Which wouldn’t be such a problem if you weren’t currently in a relationship with Jason Carver. You tell you self it needs to stop but what happens when start to look forward to your secret meet ups with Munson?

a/n: loosely inspired by your guilty pleasure by henry versus.. anyways hi hope u enjoy I miss eddie

Feedback & Reblogs appreciated! Thank you ♥︎

You’re Jason Carvers girlfriend, cheer captain and undoubtedly one of the most popular girls in this school. Then why are you currently pinned under Eddie Munson?

“Jason’s going to flip his shit.” You say as Eddie pulls away from kissing you, his lips travel down your throat.

“I won’t tell and you won’t either.” He murmurs nibbling farther down your neck.

You go to respond but you’re stopped by the sudden feeling of air on your chest, your nipples harden as he works your shirt off you. The air is out of your lungs when his mouth moves to a breast, his hands busy undoing your pants. He was eager and never wasted time during what little time you had before Jason started to wonder where you wandered off to. You two hadn’t been caught yet and for Eddie, it wasn’t about to happen today. More than happy to be your dirty little secret.

“Your body is dangerous.” He whispers as soon as he’s got you undressed, left in nothing but your underwear.

You always wore your sexiest pair in hopes that he’d show up to the party Jason dragged you to. Your boyfriend no longer had to do much to convince you to tag along. The unknown possibility of Eddie being there was more than enough to get you out the house.

The first time you had told yourself that it was nothing more than a drunken mistake. Jason and you had been fighting all week. Which was unfortunately becoming your new reality, your relationship on a downward spiral for months. He claimed to be at home but you knew better, showing up to the party he swore he wasn’t attending. After a long argument and him saying maybe you two should take a break, you found friends and drank more than you should have.

A drunken angry night lead you straight into Eddie’s arms. The two of you had always been amicable despite Jason’s obvious disdain for Eddie. It started off as an innocent conversation, thinking Jason would see and grow irritated enough to stop you. He didn’t seem to care which only pissed you off more. And then there Eddie was intoxicated and flirty, touching you without any care for your relationship status. When no one was paying you two any attention, you snuck a kiss and then snuck away with Eddie to a bathroom.

Jason and you decided to make things work a few days later, it needed to stop. Technically you were single when you hooked up with Eddie. You convinced yourself that you didn’t do anything wrong. There was no need to tell Jason what happened.

It wasn’t until you found yourself at another party, Jason with his friends paying you no attention. Eddie’s attention was focused solely on you from across the room. One look, a couple steps up stairs and Eddie was following you to an empty bathroom. Making sure to let him know this would never happen again as you undressed him. He agreed, laughing before lifting you onto the counter and taking over.

After that time you were fucked in every way. Jason just wasn’t doing it anymore. Wondering if Jason ever really did it for you. Questioning why you were still with him all these years later. Suddenly all his flaws more prevalent. Pissing you off by merely existing, fighting constantly. Telling yourself that you’d come clean soon. That it wasn’t fair to Eddie or Jason.

Yet here you were months later, completely sober letting Eddie take what he wanted. All while your boyfriend was downstairs with his friends. Giving yourself over to Eddie Munson became your guilty pleasure.

Eddie’s mouth is slowly traveling to its destination. Your eyes closed, too distracted by his mouth to think about how terrible this will inevitably end. The sound of fabric tearing has your eyes opened and on Eddie, watching as he stuffs whatever’s left of your underwear into his pocket. He’s pulling away from the you, only to sink himself between your thighs.

“Your pussy is always so wet and ready..” His voice is low, his mouth inches away from your center.

A few quick kisses are pressed to your inner thigh before his hands travel under you, pulling you closer and meeting his lips with your clit. Your involuntary reaction is to try and close your legs but he already expects it, stopping you from doing so as he dives deeper.

His tongue working on your bud and a single finger slides into you. You let your moans leave your mouth as you grasp the sheets of whoever’s bed you’re in. Without warning he adds another finger, picking up his pace.

“Fuck..” You groan out as you grind your hips into his touch.

He watches you as you react to his actions, his favorite sight. Your eyes are closed as he pushes you closer to your climax. You can’t see it but you can feel the grin on his face, smug about the fact that he’s the one making you cum and not your boyfriend.

He pulls away bringing out a whimper from you at loss of contact, “Does he make you feel this good?”

You look at him, frustrated and not wanting to talk right now. Especially not about Jason.

“Does he even make you cum?” He ask, kissing a sweet kiss to your cunt. No where near your swollen clit but your body shudders in response. You can’t bring yourself to answer.

“Tell me.. who makes you feel this good?” Another kiss, moving closer to where you desperately need him.

“Who makes you cum every time?” Another kiss, almost there but not yet. He’s leaving you a whimpering mess under his touch.

“Who do you think about when your boyfriend fucks you?” This time he doesn’t kiss you, waiting for response.

“You.. Eddie. I think about you.” You finally admit, causing him to get that smug look he wears every time he reminds you of your dishonest actions towards Jason.

“If you were mine I’d never let you out of my sight.. keep you satisfied enough to keep you under me and not someone else.” He says never breaking eye contact as his slips between your folds again. Continuing where he left off and not letting you respond, sending your head flying back.

The only sounds in the room are your moans and the sounds of his tongue and fingers bringing you closer to the edge. Music is muffled from downstairs. He picks up his speed, not missing a beat. Pushing you over the edge, arching your back as you finish on his fingers. He rides you out through your orgasm. As he pulls out he bring his fingers to his lips, cleaning your juices off his fingers.

“So sweet.” He says as he sits up, hovering over you again.

You only pull him closer, kissing him and undressing him. It’s your turn to make him feel good. Your hands pull at his shirt and he takes it off the rest of the way. The brief moment he pulls away, your hands run down his chest and to his pants. You undo the button then the zipper and start to pull them down as much as you can from under him. He shimmies the rest of the way out of his pants, dragging his boxers off with them.

You wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping it slowly eliciting a groan from him. It’s heavy and hard, ready to split you in half.

“My turn to taste you,” you whisper as you move from under him and push him onto his back.

He doesn’t fight this, allowing you to take control. Eyes on you as settle at his side, bending over to take his cock in your mouth. A simple kiss on his tip has him biting his lip in anticipation. His hand finds your ass, squeezing it as you slowly take his length into your mouth. His other hand is on your head, guiding your mouth deeper. Forcing you to take his whole length. Holding himself back from bucking his hips into your mouth.

“F-fuck.. you take my cock so well..” He purrs as he holds you still, your nose pressed into his groin.

After a few moments of you gagging on his cock, he lets go and you pull away. Saliva drips down your chin. Wiping your mouth off and using it to rub his cock, spitting the build up at the back of your throat onto it. Pumping him in a slippery mess, watching him watch you.

“You on top..” He directs and you listen, sitting up and throwing your leg over him.

You press your warm center onto his hardness, letting it slide through your folds. Making the both of you groan at the friction. You lift your self up just enough as aligns his tip to your heat. You lower yourself down, taking him whole. As you begin to roll your hips he grabs you and guides you through the motions, nails digging into your skin.

Probably leaving marks but you don’t care. The tiniest part of you wishing Jason would find evidence of you and Eddie, forcing you to come clean. The more the two of you did this behind Jason’s back, the sloppier you got. The more you would let Eddie do, the more you asked for. Knowing that this couldn’t possibly end well for anyone involved, deciding to enjoy it while you had the chance.

“Such a slut, taking my cock while your boyfriend is downstairs,” Eddie says this as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest.

His hips jerk into you from under, slamming his cock inside of you at a relentless pace. Your head is burrowed in his neck, your arms trapped in his embrace. He fucks you from under as you moan in his ear, his favorite sound.

Without any warning he slips from under you and has you laid on your stomach. He pulls your ass up, pushing your head down. Eddie takes a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him before smacking your ass. The crown of his cock lingers at your entrance before easing into your warmth. You can’t help the whine that escapes your mouth as his fills you from this angle.

“Such a good little slut for me.. huh?” He asks as he thrusts into you in a languid manner, almost teasing you. He’s waiting for you to answer before he gives you want you want.

“Yes.. Eddie.. for you.” You respond, your voice cracking between thrusts.

“Say it.” He growls pushing your head into the bed, slowly moving his hips.

“I’m a slut.. for you.” You spit out and he rock his hips harder, faster. Fucking you into the bed. Finally giving you what you want.

You grip onto the sheets, pushing against his thrusts. His movements are deep, his pace relentless. Hands squeeze your ass, further guiding his pumping. You are a mess under him, not holding back your noises. Letting Eddie know he’s fucking you right. Just how you like it. Ruining you for any other man, specifically your boyfriend.

Eddie doesn’t slow, keeping the speed consistent. Determined to make you cum one more time before he finishes. His length plunges in and out of you. Skin smacking and moans fill the room.

There’s no way anyone else upstairs can’t hear you. They have to know someone is having sex in here. Almost making it more enjoyable. The fear of getting caught turning you on even more.

The familiar feeling of your skin heating up is felt. Pleasure building in you as Eddie’s fucks you closer to falling apart. Your walls flutter around his cock letting him know that you’re almost there.

“Come for me. Come all over my cock.” Eddie orders.

His demand is all it takes to push you over the edge. You feel your body tighten and then releases the pressure. AA chocked sob comes from you as you finish all over his cock.

Your body goes numb as he pumps a few more times before, quickly pulling out. Taking his throbbing erection into his hand and pumping it with his hand. The other hand grabs you, pulling you to a sitting position in front of Eddie.

��Open up.” He orders and you look up at him, doing as he says.

A few more flicks of his wrist has him hissing as he comes on your face. Aiming for your tongue and making it for the most part. You wait patiently as he jerks himself to completion. He smiles, wiping his cum from where it missed and landed on your cheek. Collecting it placing it in your mouth. Not letting a drop go to waste, watching as you swallow his seed.

“Good girl,” he smiles pulling away.

It’s as if reality comes into play as he steps away, throwing your clothes towards you on the bed. You quickly redress, watching him do the same. The sadness that comes when this moment comes gets stronger every time your time together comes to an end.

Once you’re dress you stand up from where you’re sat on the edge of the bed. It’s as if Eddie notices the change in your mood, without you having to say anything. Moving in closer to you he pulls you closer, kissing you more affectionately than he should be. Clouding your judgement and letting your self fill your mind with delusions.

As he drags himself away from you he says, “Now go make out your boyfriend, let him taste me on your tongue.”

His tone is teasing, causing you to roll your eyes and let out a sigh. His reminder of your failing relationship snaps you from your mind, the feelings he makes you feel. The thoughts he makes you think.

You’re irritated, mostly at yourself for letting it get to this point. He looks at you for a second using his hand to smooth your hair and then wipe away at your smudged eye makeup. Once he thinks you look like you didn’t just cheat on your boyfriend, he grins pulling away. You try not to smile back, moving away from him and leaving the room. Eddie would wait a few minutes, so no one would see the two of you leaving together.

As you walk downstairs to where you left Jason your mind can’t stop thinking about the possible consequences. You could tell Jason right now and what? Run into Eddie’s arms? Not entirely sure if he even wants that. If he wants you as anything more than a secret hookup.

Afraid that if you came clean, the whole entire thing would lose its appeal. Wondering if you enjoy your time with Eddie as much as you do because it’s so wrong. If you were single, would you still find yourself wanting to be around Eddie?

One thing clear, you need to break up with Jason. As soon as possible and just see what happens afterwards. If whatever Eddie and you have is meant to be, it’ll happen. You hear your name as you make it into the back yard where you left Jason. He’s sat right where you left him, trying to call you over.

As you approach him and his friends, he pulls you into his arms. You feel yourself recoiling as a reaction to his touch. You’re in no mood for him right, obviously bothered over something and he doesn’t notice. He never fires. Before you can anything, he kisses you. You can’t help but try to stifle the laugh that wants to come. Thinking about the last thing Eddie said to you.

“What’s so funny?” Jason asks, his arm still wrapped around your waist.

“Nothing… we need to talk..” You respond, removing yourself from his embrace and walking away from his group of friends.

[fandomwritingbit]

William afton x (fem)reader - scarf

Warnings: smut basically just Will wanking. Dark themes - pervert William, inappropriate relationship. The unfortunate use of a good scarf.

Notes: minimal plot, I wrote this on the train, its barely proofread lmao

"See you later, Mr Emily!" you call over your shoulder, half slinging your jacket and handbag on your arm. It's been a long day, and you were much too eager to get out of this place, making you forget the scarf you'd worn this morning, that hung on a hook shared by some of the staff. It was a thin silky fabric, a gift from a friend and you've worn it pretty much every day since.

"Monday, y/n?" A voice calls after you, stopping you from slipping away out the fire door. You turn to see your other boss, clearly on his way out for a fag, cigarette in hand and all.

"Yeah. No worries. See ya, Mr Afton." You smile politely, hating to be reminded of the extra shift you'd picked up. Then finally making it outside, ready for at least several hours of sleep.

~

Yeah, you will see him on Monday, where hopefully you'll wear that cheeky little skirt again, Afton thought to himself, smirking. It really had been a pleasure to see you on your hands and knees cleaning up something some trainee had dropped, it left very little to his imagination and that could be a dangerous enough tool on its own. You were fast becoming his favourite thing to see rushing around the restaurant, but he hadn't quite worked on cornering you yet.

He was about to follow your path outside and spark up, but glancing to the left, he saw your forgotten article. Now, what had he done to deserve this? He couldn't help himself from grinning wide, fuck the smoke, he had a better idea. Snatching the scarf from the peg he struggled with the impulse to press it to his nose. Restraint, William, he reminded himself. But that had never been his strong suit.

With it in hand, he left through the fire door, scanning the empty car park, left for his car and Henry's, somewhat appropriately at opposite ends. Henry's right under a light, his in a pitch-black corner which just couldn't be better for what he was about to do. Tucking the now undesired cigarette behind his ear, he slipped in his car, locked the doors, and waited for the interior light to turn itself off.

It was then in the complete dark that he inhaled the scent of you on this scarf, pressing it to his face as his head leant back against the seat rest, sneering into the fabric. The smell of you drove him wild, God he'd been wasting time not calling you into his office and seeing what kind of knickers you had on under that fucking skirt. Holy shit.

Dirty thoughts materialised in his head and with a grunt he unfastened his belt, pulled down his fly and took his cock out. It had been a surprising fair while since he had last done this and in consequence, he found himself impatient. Breathing in your smell, he could almost taste you. You sweet, pretty little thing, you probably had no idea how just the small 'how are you's had driven him to stroking his cock with your scarf in his face like some kind of creep. Feeling himself close, his pace was rough with himself. God he was a fucking pervert, but he didn't feel the guilt he should, he'll he celebrated it because he knew he had a talent for making cute pieces like you into perverts too.

It was easy to imagine you on top of him, his hand on your throat, moving your body just how he wanted it. You clawing at him. He could make you scream, hate him and thank him all at the same time.

Pulling your scarf from his face, he bucked into his hand, biting the inside of his cheek to muffle the groan of him falling over the edge. He hadn't thought to get a tissue or something to the liking and shoved your garment into his lap to collect his release.

His head hit the headrest again, a half-smirk half-scowl on his face. He chuckled, well, you certainly weren't getting this back now.

[charliedaltonswife]

Buttons

Henry Winter x reader (The Secret History)

this is an request in my dms which will stay anon, love you lots!!!

Summary: You return home to find Henry waiting for you, as he often does. When he follows you into your room and offers to help with the buttons of your dress, Henry finally lets go of the restraint he’s held for so long.

Warnings: bro fucking smut, filth. I still dont know if im any good at smut but here ya go.

master list found here

The incense clung to the rafters, curling into ghostly fingers that wove through the heavy stone arches. Sunlight filtered through stained glass, washing the congregation in blood-red and cobalt-blue light. The choir’s voices rose, thick and sacred, their harmonies threading through the cavernous church.

"Kyrie eleison… Christe eleison…"

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.

You stood among them, lips moving with the familiar Latin, though your voice was absent from the chorus. There was something about the words, the repetition of them, that always made you feel like a child again. It was less about belief, you thought, than the rhythm of it, the same way people who hadn’t prayed in years still found themselves murmuring Hail Marys in the dark.

The priest droned on, the Gospel reading sliding from his tongue in an unbroken wave. You let your mind drift, eyes tracing the golden thread embroidered along the hem of your missal.

Religion, after all, was a performance.

Not in the crude, cynical sense. Though you had met your fair share of atheists who sneered at the whole affair, calling it a grand theatrical piece put on for the feeble-minded. Julian came to mind immediately. No, religion was a performance in the way all human interaction was. The way people bowed their heads, murmured their responses on cue. The way they folded themselves into its movements, following its choreography without thought.

Henry understood that better than most. You had watched him, over the years, move through the world as if he were rehearsing lines no one else could hear. And wasn’t that its own kind of devotion? To recite something so often that you became it?

There had always been something between you and Henry. Amongst the group - their laughter, their quarrels, the wine-drunk intellectual posturing that spun late into the night - you and he only contributed when necessary, calculated. Not for lack of thought, but because there was nothing to prove. Where the others filled space with words, you and Henry existed in the hush between them, in the understanding that a glance could say what a thousand syllables could not. You had never needed to explain yourselves to one another. It was a rare, precious thing in a world where everyone else demanded translation.

The others noticed it, of course. Francis with his amused, knowing looks, Charles with his ever-lingering skepticism, Camilla watching from some distant place as if she, too, was trying to decipher what lay beneath it all. Even Richard, so eager to belong, had asked once in that tentative way of his, what it was, exactly, that made Henry so different when it came to you. You had only shrugged. Because how could you explain that Henry, for all his precision and calculation, his cold-blooded pragmatism, had never needed to hold a knife to you? That you had never once felt the need to impress him, to earn his approval like the others so quietly did? He had been cruel to them, sometimes, dismissive in that sharp, unsparing way of his, but never to you. With you, there was only a stillness, an understanding. As if he had recognized something in you, something similar, and chosen you for it.

There were moments when that connection felt like a kind of solace, those late nights together, when the world narrowed to the scratch of pen on paper, the glow of lamplight stretching long shadows across the floor, neither of you speaking but still in perfect company. And yet, there were other times when it felt like a force far more dangerous, something neither of you could quite name. A pull, an inevitability. A thread drawn too tight. Because there were times when you would look at him, really look at him, and find him already looking back, and in that moment, something in the air would shift. As if the world, for just one breath, was waiting for whatever would come next.

The congregation stirred. The Creed. You stood with the others, hands brushing the pew in front of you. The choir began again, a soaring hymn that rattled against the stone.

"Et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis…"

And on earth, peace to men of goodwill.

You wondered if Henry had ever struggled with that line.

-

The apartment was dim when you arrived home, the weak afternoon sun barely slipping through the curtains. You had barely closed the door when you saw him.

Henry sat on your couch as if it were his own, one leg crossed over the other, a book balanced neatly on his knee. He looked up as you entered, his gaze sweeping over you in that unreadable way of his.

“You leave your door unlocked,” he remarked, turning a page. “A poor habit.”

“You pick my lock,” you countered, stepping out of your shoes. “A worse one.”

Henry only hummed, before he snapped his book shut.

“Church?” he asked.

You nodded, tossing your bag onto the table.

“And?”

You exhaled, rubbing at your temple. “And,” you said, “Mother believes me good and innocent purely because I attend those masses, little does she know I go because father pays me. He hates going, you see, slips me cash so I go instead.”

Henry smirked slightly, watching as you unfastened the coat draped over your shoulders. His gaze lingered, a fraction too long, before he looked away.

You had grown accustomed to Henry’s presence in your home. It had started with small intrusions, an unannounced visit, a book borrowed and not returned. Now, it was an unspoken routine, a thing that simply was.

You padded toward your bedroom, pausing in the doorway. “I’m changing.”

A flick of the wrist, dismissive. “I’m aware.”

You rolled your eyes, shutting the door behind you.

The room was dim, quiet. You reached for the buttons at the back of your dress, fingers fumbling slightly. The fabric was stiff, the buttons stubborn, and you let out a quiet, frustrated noise.

There was a shift behind you. A flicker in the mirror’s reflection.

You turned, and there he was.

Henry stood in the doorway, his eyes dark and steady, his hands in his pockets. The moment stretched, thin as thread.

“You know, I should be screaming for help right no-”

But he was already moving.

He stepped behind you, hands brushing yours aside, fingers finding the buttons with practiced ease. The air between you felt impossibly thick.

“You should really stop wearing these,” he murmured, undoing the next button. “Too much trouble.”

Your breath caught as his knuckles grazed the bare skin of your spine.

“I wasn’t aware you had such strong opinions on my wardrobe.”

A quiet hum. “Oh, I have plenty.”

Another button. And another.

Your throat felt tight. You wanted to say something sharp, something cutting, but the words wouldn’t come. Not with his hands so careful, his breath so close.

The last button slipped free.

The dress sagged against your shoulders, heavy with its own weight.

Henry didn’t move away.

His fingers brushed the curve of your neck, tracing the place where your pulse beat beneath your skin. You swallowed hard, your hands curling into fists.

“You were staring at me,” you said suddenly. The words felt like an accusation.

Henry was quiet for a long moment. 

“I know.” A simple response, very Henry-esq. He dipped his head, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. A shiver ran down your spine, and you hated the way your body betrayed you, the way you leaned into him without thinking.

“You should tell me to stop,” he murmured. You should. But you didn’t.

Henry exhaled softly, and then, finally, he pressed his mouth to your skin. The way his lips traced a path down your neck, the way his fingers skimmed the edge of your dress, pushing it lower, lower.

Henry hummed, a quiet sound of amusement, but didn’t reply. He reached for the dress, and the fabric slackened, slipping down your shoulders, baring the curve of your neck.

His fingers ghosted along your skin, tracing the line of your spine, so faint it might have been an accident. But nothing Henry did was ever accidental. His hand trailed up your spine like a whisper of silk, each fingertip a quiet invocation, a prayer written in heat and reverence. The touch was slow, setting each vertebra alight with something perilously close to worship. His mouth was at your ear before you could even think to stop him.

“Turn around,” he said.

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to. But because you did. Because you had always wanted to.

Yet, slowly, you turned. You felt incredibly small under his gaze, not in size but in confidence. If you were being true to yourself, all of your confidence had flushed away the second he stepped into the room. His fingers found the edge of your sleeve, pushing it further down your shoulder, his touch so light it sent a shiver through you. His other hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his knuckles grazing the hollow beneath your ear.

But then his lips were against your throat, warm and deliberate, and any lingering hesitations burned away like parchment to flame.

His lips barely grazed your throat at first, a whisper of a touch, but the sensation sent a pulse of heat down your spine. You stood there, frozen, the fabric of your dress slipping further down your shoulders, caught at your elbows. Henry's breath fanned across your skin.

“Let go,” Henry states simply, a hushed tone in his voice, “Let go of the dress darling.”

Before you can argue with him, his lips are latching to yours, hands gripping your hips enough to tug you flush against his own. You let the dress slip from your body and pool at your feet. A hand slides up from your bare lower back, up along your spine just as he did before, as he finds the strap of your bra. His lips are on your neck, wet and sloppy open mouthed kisses, every touch making you think you had died and were now in the warm clouds of heaven. The clasps are disengaged in quick time, and he pulls away from your skin to switch to the other side of your neck. Your bra is discarded to the floor, dropping to meet your long forgotten dress.

“Henry…” You began, not actually sure as to what you were about to say.

“Shush.” He responded, not quite silencing you but easing you, carefully cupping your breast, and gripping onto it. If that didn't silence you, you weren't sure what would. Henry’s thumb rolled over the peak of your nipple as your head craned back, soaking in the sweet feeling of euphoria. His mouth left a wet trail down your chest until the warm feeling blooms along your other boob, his tongue flicking to make a rhythm along your skin. You didn't know what else to do but moan. 

“Not so innocent anymore,” He taunts, moving to switch sides.

His touch was a struck match against your skin, a slow-burning ember that sparked and caught, setting alight something that had long lain dormant within you. As he keeps mouthing at your tits, he maneuvers his other hand to let a finger run explore underneath the skimpy material of your underwear. Slowly, he moves to the edge of the bed. 

"Lay down," He was always direct, you knew that well, but this felt different, it was as if he needed this. 

You nodded sheepishly, moving towards the bed to lay down, adjusting to sit on your forearms. Instinctively your eyes closed and before you knew it, you felt his lips start leaving wet spots along your inner thighs, a slight sound leaving you. 

"Are you always this demanding?" You huffed, looking down at him finally.

A very subtle smirk floods his face as rough hands slide under the sides of your underwear. 

"Don’t get cocky with me." Henry responded lightly. You found it oddly amusing that the meaning of his words contrasted so starkly with the sweet tone he said it in. 

The surprise on your face speaks for itself as his hands free the material from your hips. His hands come to your calves, guiding your legs to prop up and spread apart. You bite down on your lip, surely drawing blood, when his tongue slides between your folds, the sensation making you somewhat melt along the duvet under you. 

You moan loudly as he latches his lips around your clit; sucking and licking like his life depended on it. Your hand suddenly flew down and pulled on his hair as you felt your arousal grow tighter. His touch was a whispered incantation, a current of quiet ruin sparking along your skin, setting every nerve alight in a way that felt less like being touched and more like being rewritten. You could taste the metallic pang drip from your lip from biting it so harshly, holding back the sounds that threatened to escape.

“Dont,” he shifted one of his hands from your things and inserted a finger into you, going in and out, curling. “Stop doing that, just let yourself go.”

You nod your head, and he smiles contently, his eyes locking you and your attention in as he catches you off guard, his other hand pushing a finger into you, thoroughly soaked from his toying. You lean your head back, arching slightly as you let out a loud moan, letting the pleasure ooze from your throat.

"Good girl." His hand at your lower half begins to pump in and out, his other hand holding your hips down in place.

The faster his hand rocks into you, the slower and more affectionately his tongue becomes, rubbing circles against your clit, the feeling making you sigh in contentment. When he moved, it was the breaking of a dam, a flood of feeling crashing through the fragile barriers you’d spent so long pretending weren’t there. Henry’s hand that was on your hip slowly trails up to trace along your jawline and chin before it taps your bottom lip. 

"Open up." His thumb, soft as moth wings, pressed against your lips with a delicacy that felt almost reverent, as if he were tracing the shape of something sacred, something he scarcely believed he had the right to touch. You do as you're told as he dips his thumb past your lips, instinctively closing around him. Your cheeks hollow out as you suck, Henry’s thumb stifling the moan that shakes through your body as he pushes another finger into you. 

"You are so good for me, aren't you?" Henry pulls back, the both of you catching your breath as pushes - in, out, in out. Your jaw slacks, trying to get an answer out. A particularly rough thrust of his hand drives his question again. "Answer."

Eagerly, you nod, a gasping answer sneaking out. "Yes Henry, so good just for you, Henry."

He keeps increasing his pace as you feel yourself getting closer to your climax. Your leg begins to shake a bit as you cling to him, pulling his hair, sinking your nails into his arm. He kisses your clit one last time before your moans grow louder and you feel yourself releasing around his fingers, your cries echoing through the house. It was as if he had reached inside you and tugged at the very strings that held you together, unraveling something deep and secret with a touch so precise it felt preordained. His fingers continue, but slow down slightly to ride you through your high.

You followed his lead, instinctively, as if you had always known how to move with him, how to read the minute shifts in his body, the careful deliberation in his touch. Your breathing slowed, the tension unraveling from your limbs, melting into the soft sheets beneath you. His lips traced a slow, deliberate path along your thigh, a whisper of warmth and reverence, before he moved upward, the mattress shifting as he braced himself above you. When his mouth finally found yours, it was not hurried, not impatient, only the quiet press of lips, the shared breath.

He pulled back just slightly, his nose brushing against yours, his gaze searching. You knew what he meant without him even asking.

Your throat tightened, the sheer intimacy of it all catching you off guard. But you nodded, your chest rising and falling with the weight of everything unspoken. “I’m fine,” you said oh so quietly, “that was perfect darling.”

He lingered there for a moment, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips, close enough that all you had to do was tilt your chin, just slightly, and you would meet him again. So you did. Without thinking, without hesitation, you closed the space between you, your lips pressing to his with the same quiet certainty that had always existed between you.

a/n: oh lords, well, we're just gonna leave this here and get back to writing more requests, im trying my best to keep cranking them out, i hope you like them, it brings me so much joy to wake up to more requests, and creative af too.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Chilling

Masterlist

Pairing: Henry X Reader

Synopsis: You were in love with the blacksmith's boy since you were both children. One day, he stumbles into into the apothecary, covered in blood and wounds, asking for you. As the last survivor of the hunting party, you start to suspect what has changed him.

Tags: fluff, eventual smut, werewolves, friends to lovers, mutual pining, angst, danger, some death, gore,

Chapter 1

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the village into a shroud of cold shadows. In the dimly lit apothecary, you moved with purpose, tending to the sick under the warm glow of flickering candles.

The room smelled of herbs and remedies, a comforting scent that enveloped the two children and their mother nestled under thick furs. Your hands moved carefully, wrapping the children tightly as you spoke to them in a soothing tone.

"You see, this medicine is made from a special herb. It's like a little helper for your body," you explained, your eyes meeting the curious gaze of the youngest child.

"Why does it smell sour?" the girl asked.

You chuckled, “To me, it smells like oranges. Trust me, after a few sips, you'll feel much better and be playing with your siblings again."

Turning your attention to the reluctant boy, you's smile remained unwavering. "I know, it doesn't taste like your favourite sweets, but it is still good stuff. Drink up, and you'll be back to your adventures in no time."

The boy eyed the tea suspiciously and reluctantly took a sip.

As you comforted the children the mother's discomfort became apparent. Her forehead is damp with fever. You placed a damp cloth on her forehead and she sighed.

"You'll be alright," you assured before ushering the kids into another room, telling them to drink their tea.

Returning to the mother, you reassessed the situation. The bucket beside her bed was full, and she was wiping her mouth. A realisation dawned on you. You delicately asked, "Have you been intimate recently?"

The woman nodded, and understanding swept over. She was with child.

In that moment, the door creaked open, revealing the figure of Rebecca, the village healer, and your mentor.

Rebecca entered the apothecary, shaking off the snow from her cloak and depositing a basket of herbs and roots onto a table. "The cold has arrived sooner than expected this year," she sighed, eyeing the flickering candles that cast shadows on the walls.

Her gaze shifted to you, engaged with the now cleaned-up woman. A knowing smile played on Rebecca's lips as she assessed the situation. "Congratulations, Lucy. Wonderful news,"

As you helped Lucy with a wash basin, you made small talk about breaking the news to Michael, Lucy's husband. In the midst of their conversation, you couldn't resist asking, "How do you do that? Can you read minds?"

Rebecca snorted, not confirming or denying the accusation.

After everyone was cleaned up, children tucked back into bed, and Lucy given a herb to induce sleep, Rebecca noticed the weariness in your eyes. "The night has almost fallen. You should get some rest,"

"What about you?" You asked.

Rebecca dismissed you with a wave, "Don't worry about me. You've been working too hard. I can see it in your eyes. You shouldn't have to do the work of five people."

You chuckled, "Especially with winter colds."

The howling wind outside and the distant howl added an eerie soundtrack to their conversation.

"Sounded louder," Rebecca commented cryptically.

Perplexed, you asked, "What are you talking about?"

"The howling," Rebecca replied, your tone filled with a solemn warning. “One was louder than the rest…”

Oblivious to the ominous undertone, you shrugged and packed your things. "I haven't noticed. If you're okay here, i'll take that offer to go home."

As you opened the heavy wooden door, Rebecca cautioned behind you, "Be careful, y/n. No shortcuts."

With those words echoing in your mind, you donned your cloak and stepped into the biting night, leaving the apothecary behind, the wind carrying with it an unsettling howl.

As you ventured through the village on your walk home, the air grew colder, and darkness descended. Winter's biting cold pierced through your cloak, urging you to quicken your pace. The villagers had retreated indoors, leaving the streets eerily quiet, only the sounds of your footsteps echoing and the wind whooshing through the creaking, naked trees. The quietness was haunting, a stark contrast to the usual lively hum of the village.

Passing the dressmaker's shop, you glanced into the window, where a distorted reflection of a beautiful dress beckoned. You cast a brief glance down at your own worn garment. You've worn it almost every day for three years. The fabric clung tightly, showing your growth over the time.

A sudden snap to your right shattered the silence, and you spun. In the shadows, a pair of glowing eyes seemed to stare back at you. A gasp caught in your throat, and you broke into a run. The chilling wind whipped at your hair as you sprinted toward your brother's farmhouse at the edge of the village.

Reaching the safety of the familiar door, you stole a glance over your shoulder, heart pounding. There was nothing but the winter night. You hurriedly entered the house, shutting the door with a shiver, leaving the cold and the unsettling encounter outside.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

You closed the heavy wooden door behind yourself, and the warm glow of the farmhouse kitchen welcomed you. Your brother, his wife, and their three children sat around the sturdy wooden table, eating a hearty stew from a pot placed at the center.

Will, holding the twins and little Mary devouring your small bowl, greeted you with understanding smiles. "Sit, eat."

As you filled your plate, your brother's wife picked at the sleeve of your worn dress, the dirt from the day's work evident.

"Can you mend this for me, Sophie?" you asked her.

Sophie nodded, "Of course! Leave it with me tomorrow, and I'll have it done by the morning. Can you wear something else in its stead in case it takes me some time?"

You pondered your dress options while taking a scoop of the stew. "I have my festive dress, but there's also my grandmother's old work dress. It's a bit big, though."

Sophie grinned mischievously, "Festive dress it is, then. Remember the harvest festival? The butcher's boy couldn't take his eyes off you."

Blushing, you chuckled, gaze drifting to the window. Your mind lingered on Henry, the blacksmith's nephew. You secretly had a crush on him since you were both children

He lost both his parents and older brother to cholera. Had to grow up fast, becoming the first to apprentice at his uncle Jen’s smithy at the age of ten.

You, only seven years old at the time, found him captivating, though your friends didn't share the sentiment.

You were quite chubby as a child but harsh winters and harvests have made it difficult to stay that way. The same applied to him, although unlike you, who became thinner, Henry bulked. As the years passed, he transformed from a lanky, sickly boy into a broad and capable young man, drawing lots of attention from the village girls with his tall build, strong arms, constantly covered in veins and dirt from working at the smithy.

Despite the two of you being friendly enough, Henry hadn't seemed to notice you much, always engrossed in his important errands at the smithy.

Sophie's voice brought you back to the present. "The butcher's son is handsome and well-off. Perhaps think about it?"

"Perhaps." you considered.

As Sophie departed for bed, you cleared the table before removing your dress, leaving it for Sophie. You settled down on your bed in the kitchen in your night dress, covering yourself in a heavy wool blanket and turned your head to the side.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

In the midst of the night, you found yourself in a dream.

You wandered through a frost-covered forest, shadows dancing beneath the moonlight. Distant howls of wolves echoed, and Henry 's figure emerged from the mist.

As you approached, he turned, revealing the handsome face you often found herself dreaming of.

Henry 's deep brown eyes held a warmth.

"Y/n, my y/n" his words muffled in your dream but you still found your heart beating loudly.

"Yes, Henry." you gasped.

Henry 's arms enveloped you, pulling you closer in a tender embrace beneath the moonlight. He lifted your chin up to meet his lips in a soft, tender kiss that lingered minutes after he pulled apart and trailed kisses along your jaw, and down your neck, where he lingered, playfully nipping at your collarbone.

You gasped.

"I want to sink my teeth into you..." He whispered. You felt your cheeks burn, along with the rest of your body.

Suddenly, the dream shifted. The forest darkened, and the wolves' howls intensified. A giant figure, cloaked in shadows, appeared. Your heart raced as you recognized the glowing eyes from your earlier encounter.

"I want to sink my teeth into you." The figure whispered. Your pulse picked up as the dream twisted into a chaotic dance of uncertainty.

You woke up with a start.

The farmhouse was silent, bathed in the soft glow of the hearth. you lay in the quiet darkness, the dream fading.

Unable to shake off the disquieting feeling, you slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb your family, and donned your warmest attire. The creaking floorboards betrayed your departure, and as you stepped outside, the winter night embraced you once again.

The village slept peacefully, shrouded in a blanket of snow. Your breath formed visible clouds in the frigid air as you made your way to the apothecary. The flickering candlelight within revealed the familiar shelves of herbs and potions.

Rebecca, already awake, greeted you with a knowing smile. "The threads of fate weave a complex tapestry," Rebecca mused. "Your dreams may hold clues to the challenges ahead. Stay vigilant, you, and trust your instincts."