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sapphire-writes · 1 year

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Teacher's Pet (modern!HOTD)

read the second installment Lessons

pairing: professor!Aemond x student!Reader

summary: A night out during the spring semester of your senior year of university leads to a run-in with your former professor.

warnings: NSFW 18+ (explicit sex, unprotected, fingering, oral fem-receiving, overstimulation, titty sucking, praise, degrading language) mature themes, power imbalance

word count: 4.5k

note: I got a saucy little anon saying y'all needed a student x teacher fic from me, and to celebrate 3,000 besties I had to deliver!! thanks for all the love and support, you all mean the absolute world to me! Excited to keep creating for you all, ilysm 😘

You and your best friend Sara Snow grew up together, and spent nearly every waking moment attached at the hip. You know those friends you have that are more like siblings than friends? Sara was more like your twin. So when she stayed in your hometown going to Winterfell State, and you traveled to Citadel University, it was like you’d lost a limb.

Which meant you had to visit each other as frequently as possible. Sometimes you’d travel back home and visit Sara, and other times she’d come to you. Sara preferred visiting you, she loved the wine bars and clubs of Oldtown.

“The vibe is just different here,” she says, sipping her wine, “I love it. Very chic.”

You’d chosen a new wine bar to explore this time around. It’s a super cute place, with low lighting and a chalkboard bar and tables, with chalk for drawing laid out on all the tables. Sara, being mentally 12 years old, had already drawn a veiny cock in front of you. You swipe it away with your hand.

“Rudeness!” she says, pouting as you destroy her artwork.

“Stop drawing dicks,” you tell her and she narrows her eyes.

“You’ll have to kill me,” she teases, eyes flickering toward a blonde girl who passes on her way to the bathroom.

“You’re staring,” you tell her and she sticks her tongue out at you.

“She’s been staring at me for a while,” Sara tells you, grinning, “I for one, plan to get laid tonight.”

“I love that for you,” you tell her, smiling.

“This guy at the bar, totally checking you out right now,” Sara says, sipping on her wine.

Your face flushes and you turn your head slightly to look. Sara makes a noise of disapproval, setting her glass down.

“Don’t look,” she whispers, pushing some dark hair over her shoulders.

“I’m not,” you hiss, tilting your head.

“You totally are,” Sara accuses.

“What’s he look like?” you ask.

Sara’s dark eyes scan the man, you watch them move seemingly over his form.

“Tall, platinum blonde, like seriously, must have an extensive hair care routine,” she says, nodding, “We love that, love a man with good hygiene.”

You snicker, living for her analysis.

“He’s lean, but like you can tell he’s muscular,” she glances at you, “I know you’re a hand whore, and I can tell he’s got nice hands.”

“You’re so rude,” you accuse, blushing because she’s right.

Sara scoots off of her seat.

“C’mon, we’re going over there,” she tells you.

“Okay,” you agree and she links your arm pulling you from your seat.

You finally get a look at the guy and your stomach drops.

It’s your professor.

Not this semester, but last semester. Westerosis Literature taught by Professor Aemond Targaryen. A great class, hard as hell. He worked you fucking hard for that A. You mean to tell Sara but you’re still in shock as you come face to face.

“Hey there,” Sara says, smiling sweetly, “I couldn’t help but notice you checking out my friend, thought you’d like to buy her a drink? Maybe keep her company while I visit the loo?”

Aemond’s eyes rake over you, clearly recognizing you. You blush furiously, mouth gaping.

“She likes Sauvignon Blanc,” Sara tells him, motioning to the bartender, “I’ll be back, take care of my girl.”

And with that, she flounces off toward the restroom.

“I’m sorry professor,” you tell him, nervously playing with your fingers, “If I had known it was you I wouldn’t have let her drag me over here.”

“Something tells me your friend would be hard to deny,” he tells you as the bartender comes over, “A glass of Sauvignon Blanc please, and I’ll take another gin and tonic.”

You flush as the bartender nods, getting your drinks.

“She’s very persistent,” you tell him, nodding in agreement and casting your eyes to the floor.

Aemond cannot keep his eyes off your glowing cheeks, the way your lashes flutter against them as you avert your gaze.

“I can just take this back to the table,” you say, grabbing the glass of Sauvignon Blanc he paid for.

Aemond shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t drink alone,” he tells you, patting the empty chair next to him, “Indulge me for a bit, will you?”

You look back towards the table you shared with Sara, though she has yet to return to it. She’s probably chatting up that girl she had her eyes on. You bring your gaze back to Aemond.

“Okay, if you’re sure you’re comfortable with that,” you tell him, slipping onto the stool.

“Because that paper was cruel and unusual punishment, even for you,” you tell Aemond through a laugh.

You’re on your third glass of wine, the hours ticking away as you converse with your former professor. Sara has made herself scarce, though she’s been texting you.

“You did rather well if I recall correctly,” he says, with a sly smile on his face.

You roll your eyes, taking another sip. You’ve always been a good student.

“Only because I dedicated a week of sleepless nights to that assignment. Seriously, you should be paying for my therapy after that,” you tease, leaning your cheek against your hand.

You’ve gotten closer to him during the night, your knees brushing against his thigh, heel clad foot mindlessly rubbing against his calf. You’re not sure if it’s the wine or the ease of the conversation that has you feeling so comfortable around him.

“Send me the bill,” he jokes back, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest.

“I’ll put it in your mailbox tomorrow,” you giggle, taking another sip, “You know, I was really disappointed when your Essosi Literature class was full this semester.”

“Is that so?” he asks, sipping his gin and tonic, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Now I’ll never have the chance to take it,” you continue, “Unless you teach a summer course, otherwise your popularity has thrown off my entire plan of study.”

“My apologies,” he insists, grinning at you, “My popularity, you say? I thought I was a hard ass.”

“Oh you are,” you assure him, “But that doesn’t mean you’re not popular.”

“How so?” he pushes, a long finger dancing around the rim of his empty glass.

Your eyes follow the circle he traces, up the veins on the back of his hands. How have you never noticed how sexy his hands are? You’ve never been this close to him, his lectures always held in one of the large lecture halls on campus rather than the more intimate classroom settings. You wet your lips, desire pooling in your belly before you meet his eyes once more.

“You know,” you tell him, unable to keep the secretive smile off of your face, “I mean, you must know.”

“Know what?” he murmurs, staring at you with such intensity it makes your thighs tremble.

You brush a strand of hair behind your ear, chewing on your lower lip. This will be your last glass of wine, you feel too giddy, too at ease in the presence of your professor. You’re going to regret this little flirtation in the morning, you can feel it in your bones. But the alcohol is liquid courage, and you’re a senior after all. Once this semester is over, you’re out in the real world, done with Citadel University.

“You’re popular with the ladies of campus,” you tell him, “and the men, and everyone else.”

Aemond quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Oh really?” he asks.

“Of course, I mean you’re the youngest tenured professor, you are a hard ass grader but your lectures are so enticing, and it helps you’re easy on the eyes-”

You choke as soon as the sentence escapes you. A freudian slip if you’ve ever had one. Aemond’s mouth quirks up into a wolfish grin.

“I’m so sorry,” you tell him, covering your mouth.

“It’s alright,” he assures you, but you’re off on a nervous ramble.

“That was seriously so shallow of me and inappropriate to say-”

“Y/N,” he says, resting a hand on your knee, “It’s alright, really.”

You laugh nervously, enjoying the feeling of his hand on your leg. You can feel the heat it emits through your tights. His hand is huge, and you lose yourself in the moment wondering how it might feel against the bare flesh of your thighs, you neck-

“I should see if Sara texted,” you tell him, reaching for your phone.

You’re greeted by a dropped pinned location and a text from Sara saying she went home with the blonde from earlier. Lucky bitch.

“And she’s left me,” you say aloud.

“Everything alright?” Aemond asks.

“Yeah, yeah. This has been great,” you tell him, “Thank you for keeping me company, but I should probably get home, call an Uber.”

“Let me drive you,” Aemond insists, “It’s no problem.”

You bite your lip. You shouldn’t do this right? He’s your professor, your teacher.

“Are you sure?” you ask and he nods.

That’s how you end up in the passenger seat of his mercedes, the dark leather seats warm and inviting. You know you’re staring as you watch him drive, long fingers gripping the wheel, the other hand resting on his knee.

As you pull up to your apartment, you swallow the lump that has formed in your throat. You almost want to invite him up. He watches you closely, as though sensing the words swimming around your head. No, you're not doing this.

“Thank you, professor, I appreciate it,” you tell him, leaving it at that.

“I think I embarrassed myself big time Sara,” you tell her groaning on the phone.

There wasn’t much time to debrief the night before Sara had to head back to Winterfell. You brought yourself to the campus coffee shop, settling in to complete some homework while you had some free time.

You’d been staring at your laptop screen, and the empty word doc that was pulled up, for the better part of an hour before deciding to call Sara.

“You did not,” she insists, “I don’t care if he is your professor, he was totally into you.”

“He was just being polite.”

“I know polite, and I know eye fucking. Professor Big Dick was the latter,” Sara insists.

“Sara!”

“You know I’m right,” she tells you.

“Fuck,” you tell her, placing a hand against your forehead.

“Look, if you’re that worried about it, go talk to him,” Sara says, “Drop by his office or something, bring him a coffee and tell him you’re sorry.”

“You don’t think that’s weird?” you ask, nervously chewing your thumb.

“I think it's weird you didn’t suck his dick when he drove you home,” she answers honestly.

“Bye Sara,” you tell her.

“Love you too bitch,” she says, making a kissing noise into the receiver.

You decide to take Sara’s advice, bringing Aemond a coffee as an apology for your behavior. You walk through the building; it’s quiet with no classes, not many people pass you on your way to the faculty offices. Most doors are closed, but you see Professor Targaryen’s door is ajar, signaling his presence.

You’d been to his office one time before, dropping in for office hours the previous semester when working on your midterm. He grilled you hard, and you left feeling frustrated but with a strong desire to please him. You always did crave academic validation.

You knock on the door, greeted by Aemond’s gentle timbre telling you to enter. He’s seated behind his desk, a book open on his lap. He’s wearing gray slacks, a simple button down shirt and his silver hair is pulled away from his face in a loose, low bun. His violet eye lights up as you enter, blue sapphire prosthetic winking in the afternoon light that filters through his window.

“I don’t mean to intrude,” you tell him, closing the door behind you.

You walk further into the room and place the coffee cup on his desk.

“What’s this?” he asks, closing his book and placing it on the desk.

“An apology from a tremendously bright student?” you tell him, smiling nervously.

“What do you need to be apologizing for?” he asks, picking up the coffee, inspecting the order on the side.

You chose black to be safe, not knowing this is how he preferred his coffee. Aemond takes a sip, humming appreciatively.

“I just really didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I know I was a little tipsy, and I hope I didn’t cross a line or anything,” you tell him.

Aemond stands, picking up his book and walking over to his bookshelf. It’s stacked with books, classics and other contemporary novels.

“You’re very thoughtful, Ms. Y/L/N,” he comments, sliding the book back where it belongs.

“Thank you, professor,” you tell him.

“If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me,” he tells you, walking in front of his desk.

He leans his back against it, resting his palms on the edge.

“Why would you apologize?” you ask, tilting your head with curiosity.

“Well, if anyone’s responsible for making our interaction inappropriate it's me,” he tells you, jutting out his sharp chin, “I’m your professor, you’re my student.”

You flick an eyebrow up at him.

“You were my professor,” you tell him, “I’m not in your class anymore.”

“Still, that power imbalance doesn’t just go away,” he insists, eyes meeting yours.

There it is again, that look. The one with such intensity it makes your knees weak. You can see his tongue poking his cheek as though he’s contemplating something. Your breath catches in your throat and you nervously wet your lips.

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you tell him, “No more flirting with strangers at wine bars for me.”

“I’m not a stranger,” he says.

“You know what I mean,” you tell him.

The air between you is warm and inviting. It’s like the bar all over again, you can feel some invisible force pulling you closer to him with every word you exchange. It’s so effortless, this playful banter, you fall into it easily with him. You have to stop, have to stop before you cross another line.

“Anyway, take the coffee,” you tell him, “and let me know if you decide to run that summer class, cause I’ll totally take it.”

“You’re graduating,” he teases.

“They’ll let me hang around, I can be very persuasive,” you insist, kicking yourself for the insinuation.

Aemond lets out a breathless laugh.

“I’m sure,” he says smirking.

You stare a moment longer, appreciating how his tall, lean frame looks resting against his desk. Your gaze drops to his hands again. His hands. You blink, steadying yourself, but he’s definitely noticed the mental lag you had.

“Goodbye, Professor,” you tell him, “Have a good rest of your day.”

You turn walking toward the door. You reach for the handle, pulling it open slightly before a hand reaches above your head, pushing it shut. He keeps his hand on the door as you turn around to face him.

“Don’t leave,” he murmurs, bringing his opposite hand to trace a line down the side of your face, before cupping your cheek.

Your breathing turns ragged as his thumb strokes your cheekbone. He’s so close you can feel his breath on your lips, and smell his cologne. His hand strokes the doorframe, following into down until he reaches the handle, flicking the lock into place.

“I thought we weren’t doing this,” you whisper, hands clenched into fists at your sides.

“Then why’d you come here?” he purrs.

“I was being nice,” you tell him, as he brings his other hand to your waist, pulling you against him.

“Such a good girl you are,” he whispers and then his lips are on yours.

Your hands fly to his neck instinctively, pulling him as close to you as possible. His mouth feels so perfect against yours, the mingled taste of spearmint and coffee sharp on your tongue as you greedily drink him in. Your hands fist the back of his shirt.

You’re practically gasping against his mouth as his hands move to cup your ass, before he bends his knees to lift you up by your thighs. You wrap your legs around his slender waist, continuing to kiss him all the while, moaning as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

He turns, walking you away from the door and placing you on the corner of his desk, hastily brushing his arm to move loose papers and knick knacks out of the way, sending them crashing towards the floor. Not that either of you care. Your hands work quickly, tearing at the buttons on his shirt, revealing his chest. Your nails rake down his abs, reaching for his belt. You’re desperate and you don’t care, you need to feel him inside you.

Aemond removes his lips from yours, laughing breathlessly at your eagerness before swatting your hands away.

“Let me,” he murmurs, sinking to his knees in front of you.

His hands travel up your thighs and you squirm against his touch as they disappear beneath your skirt. You feel his dexterous fingers loop through your underwear pulling it off of you. You assist him, bunching your skirt in your hands revealing your dripping cunt to him.

“So wet for me,” he purrs, “Are you always like this?”

“Fuck,” you mewl as his tongue flicks out, tasting the wetness between your folds.

He hums with appreciation, as though tasting a fine wine. Aemond pressing his face into you, nose nuzzling against your clit, sending spark waves of pleasure dancing upwards toward your navel. His tongue swirls around your center, dipping into your tight heat.

“Did you sit through my lectures with your pussy dripping like this?” he asks, voice rough with desire.

You squirm against his mouth as he wraps his lips around your needy clit, suckling gently and flicking his tongue around the sensitive nub. Your hand flies to the back of his head, foot digging into his shoulder blade.

His hand squeezes your inner thigh roughly, before slapping the tender flesh causing you to cry out.

“Oh gods,” you moan, head tilting back in the throes of pleasure.

“I bet you did,” he answers his own question, smirking at you.

He moves his attention away from your clit momentarily, dragging a finger through your folds. You can’t see his hands but you can picture them, his long, skilled fingers as you feel him sink one into your tight heat.

Your spine curves, pushing your pussy closer toward his face as his finger searches for that special spot inside of you.

“Oh fuck, fuck!” you cry as the pad of his finger pressing against the spot inside of you that paints stars behind your eyelids.

Aemond glances up at you, watches as your brow creases with pleasure, and your mouth forms a perfect O shape.

“There we go,” Aemond purrs, wasting no time and slipping another finger inside of you.

Every crook of his fingers has you trembling against him, his pace relentless as pressing against your g-spot. He brings his attention back to your throbbing clit, increasing the pleasure building in your abdomen, tingling up your spine. His tongue laps away, little kitten licks against the sensitive button drawing you closer and closer to orgasm with each flick.

Tears well in the corners of your eyes and your nails dig harshly into his scalp, not that he seems to mind. Aemond simply groans against you, the vibrations only adding to your pleasure.

“I’m gonna come,” you pathetically whine, shaking against the desk.

“That’s a good girl, c’mon,” Aemond insists, slipping a third finger inside you.

The wet slurping of your soaked cunt echoes in the room as he never relents the stokes of his fingers, the flicking of his tongue. It’s all too much and the tightly wound coil of pleasure inside you snaps with a strangled sob. As your high washes over you, all the tension in your body releases.

Only Aemond doesn’t stop.

“Professor,” you moan, feeling the wave cresting inside of you again.

His fingers are soaked, easily sliding in and out of your greedy cunt.

“Please, please, it’s too much,” you beg, slumping against the desk.

“But you’re such a good girl,” he insists, “You deserve one more, give me one more.”

“I can’t- holy shit!” you squeak, as his lips suck your clit.

You’ve never been treated like this before. One orgasm-if you’re lucky-has been your experience with your past lovers. But you can’t deny him as his fingers work their magic, his tongue swirls around your puffy clit.

“Yes you can,” he purrs, and of course he’s right as you feel yourself thrown over the edge of pleasure once more.

“One more,” Aemond insists and you feel tears leaking down your cheeks.

“Professor I can’t-” you tell him, and he shushes you.

“One more, on my cock, huh?” he asks, unbuckling his belt, “Yeah, you like that idea baby?”

Your eyes light up, and you push yourself on your elbows to watch as he reveals his impressive length. Sara’s always told you guys who are lean are usually well endowed. Boy was she right. Your eyes widen taking in his length, as he grips it in his hand, pumping it. You bite your lip, watching precum leak from the reddened tip.

“I changed my mind,” he says roughly, dragging you toward him like a wolf with its prey, “Two more, you’ll give me two more.”

Your eyes are round as he drags his cock through your folds. You wiggles as he drags the tip over your clit, up and down, using your arousal as lubricant.

“You’ll cum just like this,” he says, continuing the movement against your sensitive clit.

You’re squeaking and moaning embarrassingly, wriggling like a trapped kitten as he holds your thigh tightly with one hand, while the other continues to rub the head of his cock against your clit. Your third orgasm builds quickly and crashes over you just as powerful as the first two, leaving you gasping for air.

“So pretty like this,” Aemond murmurs, bringing a hand to the back of your neck to kiss you.

You whimper against his mouth and his hands move to your shirt, breaking the kiss only to pull the material off of your head. You reach around to unclip your bra, leaving your breasts free and hanging heavy with need. Aemond brings his attention to them immediately, his erection pressing against your thigh as he circlies your nipple with his hot mouth, sucking on your breast.

You’re babbling uncontrollably at this point as he switches, suckling at your neglected other breast before aligning his cock with your soaked entrance.

“You sure?” he asks, hesitating for a moment.

“I’m on birth control,” you manage to gasp, “I’m sure, please, please.”

Aemond grins wolfishly before sinking into your wet heat. His jaw slacks as your pussy greedily accepts him, warm walls holding him firmly inside as he stretches you out.

“So fucking tight,” he murmurs, slowly dragging out only to thrust back in, balls slapping against your ass.

Your head is full of cotton at this point, unable to form coherent thoughts as he plows into you. His hands rest securely on your lower ribs, as your own hands grip the back of your thighs, allowing your legs to bend at the knee. Your back is arched off of the desk, head thrown back and mouth hanging open in pleasure.

“You like that?” he asks.

You can’t find it in you to reply, answering only in a breathy moan. Aemond merely chuckles.

“Awww did I fuck you stupid, baby?” he teases, causing you to whimper.

He feels so fucking good, sliding easily in and out of your tight walls, the sounds of lewd, wet slapping filling his office. It’s filthy, it’s erotic, and it’s so so bad of you but you can’t help but love the position you’ve found yourself in.

“I think I did,” he continues, “Poor, silly, baby thought she could handle it her professor fucking her.”

Desire and humiliation tingle up your spine, spreading across your body like wildfire at his taunts. The pitch of your moans increase as he brings his fingers to play with your clit.

“She’s all cockdumb now,” Aemond croons, squeezing your breast.

He releases your breast to bring a hand to grab at your chin.

“Look at me,” he demands, and you do so with tears in your eyes.

The head of his cock bullies against your sweet spot, rubbing the tender spot with precise devotion.

“You’re going to cum all over my cock,” he tells you, “Soak my cock like the good little girl you are.”

He keeps his hand on your face, forcing you to look at him as he plows into you and your fourth orgasm rolls over you. It’s intense, almost painful with the pleasure it brings you as your walls clamp down against his cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans as you tighten around him and he chases his own release.

“I’m going to fill this pretty pussy up,” he tells you, and you feel him spill inside of you, warmth flooding through you.

You stay connected for a moment, relishing the feeling of him inside of you. You’re incredibly sensitive from the overstimulation as he begins to pull out, moaning slightly with the loss of contact.

Aemond grabs some tissues, gently wiping down your inner thighs and beginning to clean you up. He glances up at you as you attempt to find your bearings.

“Holy. Hell.” you tell him, breathing heavily.

Aemond smirks.

“Was that too much?” he asks, a note of concern in his voice.

You shake your head.

“That was amazing,” you tell him, shyly looking away.

You grab your bra, putting it on and reaching for your shirt as he stands. You clip your bra, pulling your shirt over your head as he hands you your discarded panties.

“Thanks,” you tell him, standing on shaky legs.

You nearly fall over putting your panties back on, Aemond’s arms catch you, helping you stand.

You chuckle nervously.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asks, his arms still holding you.

“Yeah,” you assure him, “I should go though.”

“Of course,” he tells you.

You move toward the door but pause, turning to look at him. He’s just finishing buttoning up his shirt.

“Was this…was this a one time thing?” you ask.

Aemond looks up at you.

“It should be,” he tells you.

Your heart flutters in your chest, and a smirk tugs at your lips.

“That’s not an answer,” you tell him.

He smirks at you.

“No, it isn’t,” he agrees.

You hold his gaze a moment more.

“I’ll see you around, professor,” you tell him, unlocking the door and leaving his office.

You walk quickly, heat pounding, desperate to get back to your apartment and call Sara. You hop on the campus bus, holding tightly to the railing, trying to ignore the dull ache between your legs, and the warmth of Aemond’s cum that is still trickling down your thighs.

Boy are you fucked.

note: I hope you liked it my loves! Again, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!! For all your support and love. I'm truly so lucky to have such amazing support on this site and a place to post my silly little stories. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!! until next time besties 😘

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imagine-darksiders · 2 months

Text

Thank you to the marvellous @humboltsquid for commissioning a fanfic with pregnant Reader attempting to hide said pregnancy from the Horsemen because she fears they'll buy into the social rhetoric surrounding single mothers who don't know who the father is.

TW: Vomiting, morning sickness, drinking, Pregnancy, briefest allusion to sa, no actual sa took place, everything was consensual, both parties were drunk, Reader remembers most of the night except the guy's face and name. Horsemen are predictably angry about someone touching their little sister.

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Porcelain, cold and consolidated, bites into the sensitive skin of your palms as you grip the edge of the bathroom sink, your arms locked like overheated pistons just to keep yourself standing upright in defiance of how your legs seem determined to collapse out from underneath your weight.

To your right, the loo gurgles noisily, flushing away any traces of the meal you’d spewed up into it only moments ago. At least the sound helps to drown out a voice thundering at you from the other side of the door.

“Let us in!”

Fumbling with the tap for a moment, you bend down, spooning a palmful of fresh, cooling water into your mouth. As you do so, you spare a baleful glance down at the loo again, and the food lost to its pipes… Perfectly good rations… all gone to waste.

Five years on from the Great Resurrection and Earth’s agricultural efforts are finally on a steady incline. While the food situation isn’t anywhere near as desperate as it was when Humanity woke up to a world without excess, that doesn’t mean you’re particularly pleased to see precious rations wasted because you couldn’t hold them down.

And now that you’re supposed to be eating for two…

Groaning, your expression twists into a look of remorse, and you place one hand gently on your stomach, roaming a palm over the bump that lays hidden beneath the baggiest jumper you could find. You’re only too aware that it won’t be so easy to hide the swell in another couple of months.

You barely manage to bite back another miserable groan as a colossal fist hammers against the door so viciously, you almost wonder if the wood will splinter and break, which starts to seem more likely when seconds later, a familiar voice booms out, “If you don’t open this door, I’m tearing it from its frame!”

Ah… That’ll be War; youngest of the Four Horsemen, an armoured, muscle-bound colossus who also just so happens to be one of your very dearest friends.

A friend who has been growing rightfully suspicious of you over these last couple of months…

There are only so many excuses you can fall back on to explain away your frequent and unexpected dashes for the nearest bathroom. You can only thank the Creator that neither of the Four seem all that well-versed on the more delicate biological functions of humans.

Swiping a wrist over the back of your mouth, you lean away from the sink and assess yourself in the mirror, doing your best to ignore the taste of vomit still sitting like a layer of fuzz on the roof of your mouth.

‘How long are you going to keep this up?’ you pose to your reflection, her sleep-stained eyes bearing back into yours as if she too has had the same question.

It’s been like this for a few weeks now, ever since the dreaded Morning Sickness wrapped its hands around your guts and wrung them with a relentlessness that leaves you scrambling for the closest bathroom at least twice a day.

It wasn’t this bad in the first trimester… Now entering your second, things are getting a Hell of a lot harder to manage. To hide.

Slowly letting your eyes slip shut, you exhale through your nostrils in exasperation as a different voice accompanies the first. “Kid? I uh… I think he means it. We just wanna make sure you haven’t drowned in there.”

Strife… The humour he tries to inject into his quip is overshadowed by his hand rattling at the doorknob. He’s worried. They all are. You wouldn’t have thought it possible, if you didn’t know them personally, though each Horseman will swear up and down they don’t ever feel such trivial, human emotions.

Actions, however, speak louder than words.

Their sister, Fury, has hardly left your side ever since Mrs Gaffe tutted at you from across the hallway and you immediately retreated into your apartment, leant back against the door and wept into your hands. She didn’t know… She didn’t know Mrs Gaffe who lives on your floor is also a chemist, and she’s also the very woman who sold you your pregnancy test… and the subsequent tests you went back for when the first came up positive. You’d spent over an hour convincing Fury that, no, she doesn’t need to defend your honour by besting old Mrs Gaffe in combat. Though you let her know you appreciated the gesture.

You try to think the best of your neighbours. And you certainly didn’t like to think of Mrs Gaffe being a gossip, but judging by the curious and frequently disdainful glances other people in the building sent your way, you soon came to realise your secret was not such a secret after all.

You’re pregnant. And the father is nowhere to be found.

You only hope word doesn’t get back to the Horsemen somehow. You don’t think you could bear it if their gazes turned sharp and pointed as well.

Outside the bathroom door, you hear War grunt at Strife to move aside, and at last, you decide you’ve stalled enough.

Shoving yourself off the sink, you spin around on a hell, regretting the action as a wave of dizziness threatens to knock you back down to Earth, but it’s soon dispelled with a deep breath and a second to gather yourself, calling, “Okay, okay, I’m coming out.”

Someone – Strife, you think – grumbles, “Finally.”

Grabbing the handle, you pull the door towards yourself and tilt your head back, blinking up at the two, immense shapes blocking the entire width of your hallway. If it weren’t for the space between your bedroom and bathroom being meagre at best, you imagine you’d have the remaining two behemoths cramped in there as well.

“When did you guys get to be so clingy.”

War’s ice-blue eyes glare down at you from beneath a crimson hood.

You start to edge past them, feeling like a fish trying to squeeze between a pair of grizzlies. Just as you make it past and put your back to them entirely, you hear Strife announce, “All right. That’s it.”

“What’s it?” you ask hesitantly as he advances on you, his heavy, metal boots thudding on the carpet. Before you can react, the Horseman suddenly slings a bulky arm around your waist and hoists you off your feet, tucking you into his side. You’re forced to fold almost in half, bent over Strife’s uncomfortable gauntlet with most of the pressure bearing down on your stomach.

“STRIFE!” you exclaim, horrified.

“I’m not lettin’ you go until you tell us what’s been goin’ on with you,” he huffs, clomping into the living room with War bringing up the rear. By the window, Death twists his bone-mask towards the commotion, his shoulders flattening, unimpressed. “Brother…” he warns.

Fury too, tosses Strife her own disparaging glare from the sofa and barks, “Is it truly necessary to manhandle the human?”

You, however, hardly pay attention to a word they exchange. Your mind is utterly and wholly on the point of your stomach that’s digging into the Horseman’s gauntlet. You can cope with the discomfort, but it isn’t just you anymore.

There’s no thought to the cry you let out, just a plea borne of a desire to protect the little life growing inside you, by any means necessary. “Strife!” you exclaim, smacking your palms against his armoured thigh in a bid to relieve some of the pressure around your gut. “Put me down! The baby-!”

No sooner has the word left your lips than you find the arm restraining you springing open, letting you tumble to the floor. A jolt shoots through you as your hands and knees strike the carpet, but all you can celebrate in that moment is that the strength of a Horseman is no longer curled around your vulnerable stomach.

You don’t look up at the Horsemen until you’ve pushed yourself back to your feet, patting down your jumper. When you do happen to glance up, your face immediately falls.

Death has shifted from his position by the window and now stands several, jarring feet closer, he and Fury both, in fact. The latter has somehow leapt from her seat on the sofa in the time it took you to gather yourself up off the floor.

But more disconcertingly, they’re still. Utterly motionless as if they’ve been caught in a pocket of frozen time.

Gulping, you tentatively twist your head over a shoulder, only to find War and Strife are in much the same state.

Strife has backed up to stand next to his brother, his liquid-gold eyes round beneath his visor, neither one of them twitching so much as a single muscle. It’s… eerie. You don’t think you’ve ever seen them so still before. Death, maybe, but not the other three.

It only occurs to you then that you might have let something slip.

Then, at last, just as you wet your lips to call out to one of them…

“What did you say?” Fury breathes, cutting neatly through the heavy blanket of silence draped over the room.

Blinking owlishly, you turn back to face her, your mind scrambling for an adequate response.

“What… what do you mean, ‘what did I say?’”

Feigning ignorance it is.

You actually leap several inches off the ground when the Horseman suddenly explodes back into motion, storming forwards in your direction and exclaiming, “What baby?!”

“B-baby?” you double down, backing away from her until your spine collides with a solid torso – War. “Who said anything about a baby?”

“You just did!”

“Did I?”

“Y/n…” Death utters in a slow and cautious tone as though he’s afraid you’ll bolt at the slightest provocation - Hell, given the furtive glances you keep swinging around his side at the door to your apartment, he might be in the ballpark. His voice alone carries enough authority to silence his sister, and more than enough to make you clamp your jaws shut painfully tight. “You’re with child?”

It’s strange, but despite the inflection on his last word, you get the impression he isn’t asking you if you’re pregnant, but merely whether you’re ready to admit to the fact.

The hopelessness of it all dawns on you when you meet his enduring, gilded stare.

He knows.

And if Death knows, there’s little point in continuing your efforts of duping the other three. In spite of outward appearances and their frequent, often frightening disagreements, the Four Horsemen have a bond stronger than tungsten. So, with a head that suddenly feels weighed down by months of secrecy and deflection, you lower your gaze to the floor near his boots and give a slow, sombre nod.

It’s as though your little confirmation is all that they needed to lift the veil on any and all doubts.

The shadows they cast on your carpet suddenly start to tremble as an overhead light flickers, strobing on and off until it sputters weakly back to life and holds steady, albeit dimmer than it had been before.

The Horsemen seem to grow in size, muscled shoulders bulge like raised hackles and four sets of eyes flare with an ethereal light as they shift their weight, bearing down on you like toppling monoliths.

“I’m gonna kill ‘em,” Strife mutters venomously under his breath, “I’m gonna kill whatever bastard laid a finger on-”

“-W h o t o u c h e d y o u?” the eldest Horseman’s growl cuts him off. It’s guttural and animalistic, so much so that you can’t withhold a flinch. You could count on one hand the number of times Death has outwardly lost his temper, which makes it all the more alarming to witness.

Stumbling over your words for a beat, you keep your eyes fixed to the floor as the Old One stalks across the meagre living space towards you, his ominous shadow growing along the carpet to swallow you whole. When it seems he’s right on top of you, you finally blurt out, “N-Nobody!”

In hindsight, that wasn’t the most logical answer.

Fury – her vibrant hair whipping behind her like angry, coiling snakes - scoffs, tucking her arms firmly across her chest. “Nobody?” she parrots, “I’m no expert, but don’t these things usually involve two parties?”

“Great! Now she’s lying to us,” Strife barks, pacing back and forth behind you and throwing a hand up to rake the fingers of his metal gauntlet through his stiff, black hair, “I don’t believe this, we go off world for two weeks-!”

“Were you hurt?” War’s voice, though less jagged than Death’s, is pitched low enough to rumble through you until it resounds inside your chest. You can feel his presence behind you, too close for comfort, the living embodiment of rage and violence.

You suddenly fear for the man whose face and name you can’t recall.

“I… no,” you protest, hugging your elbows close, “It wasn’t anything like… like that. It was an accident! We were out drinking, and I-“

“DRINKING!?”

Your mouth snaps shut as Death lurches towards you, and you’re finally forced to tear your eyes off the carpet when his sinewy fingers slide around your biceps and he hauls you a foot off the ground, holding you up to his mask and subjecting you a shout that’s rife with unparalleled urgency. “You know what that does to a human’s inhibitions!” he demands.

His hands are gentle, neither hurting nor bruising the delicate skin on your bare arms, but the power behind even his gentlest grasp is frustratingly insurmountable.

You’ve never liked how easily he can manhandle you. “Yes, Death! I know what alcohol does!” you snap back, kicking your legs and trying to twist out of his grip, “I’m not a kid anymore, stop treating me like one! And put me down!”

You’re aware that your point is all a matter of perspective. For the Horsemen, there’ll always be some small part of them that continues to see you as a youngling. You’re human, after all. A hundred years wouldn’t even see a Nephilim out of adolescence. Not to mention that the Horsemen have all but declared you as one of them… One of theirs - an unconventional, human sibling they’ve taken into their fold.

It's not so easy for them to simply stop seeing you as their little sister, no matter how much you might wish they would sometimes.

As your retort fades into silence, Death blinks, recoiling his head slightly with wider eyes, and it will only occur to you later just how rare it is to make Death falter.

The other three, although their bodies still quiver with barely contained adrenaline, have fallen quiet whilst you stare down their eldest until at last, he lowers you gingerly to the floor, setting you safely on the carpet once again and retrieving his hands.

You’d never dare to say it aloud, but in that moment, something like shame flashes over the dark sockets of his mask.

“Why didn’t you tell us, kid?” Strife asks, the crux of his question tinged by badly concealed hurt.

“This, Strife,” you sigh, throwing your arms out towards he and his siblings, exasperated. Fury with her face set into a thunderous scowl. War’s metal gauntlets curled into bludgeoning fists. Even Strife is idly tracing a finger on the stock of Redemption in its holster, and Death – especially Death – whose ancient magics are still causing the lamps in your room to fade in and out…

Heaving another, immense sigh, you continue, “This is why I didn’t tell you.” Well. It’s one of the reasons, but at this point, it’s a fairly vital one. “I mean, look at you!”

Each Horseman shares a glance with one another.

“You’re all raring to go on a manhunt to find a guy who didn’t even do anything wrong!”

“Didn’t do anything wrong?” War grunts, teeth still bared despite following the lead of Death and reeling in his temper, if only slightly, “He mated with you-“

“Oh, hell, War, don’t say it like that,” Strife complains, grimacing under his visor.

“-and now you carry his child, and he has abandoned you both?”

Biting at the soft flesh inside your cheek, you withhold a frustrated groan and remind yourself that War’s sense of Honour is vastly inflated. The ‘father’ of your child’s ignorance won’t excuse his absence, not in War’s eyes.

Even so, you try to dissuade any ideas of retribution before they can gain traction.

“He didn’t abandon us, War. He probably doesn’t even remember I exist! Goodness knows I can hardly remember that night…” You trail off, lowering your gaze to the floor.

Death’s eyes are suddenly the hardest to meet. You recall your first introduction to Lilith; the self-proclaimed mother of all Nephilim, and subsequently the Horsemen themselves. You know of the demoness’s… reputation. You also know firsthand how much the Eldest Horseman despises her. You’re terrified Death will see something of Lilith in you, that you’d be so liberal with your own body as to end up with a child.

The inside of your eyelids start to burn. “And now everyone is gonna think I’m just some skank who went and got knocked-up by a stranger and… and-… They’re always gonna look at my kid and wonder who the father is. I don’t even know who the father is.”

There are tears prickling at your eyelashes, but you force your hands into fists at your sides, refusing to wipe them away lest your draw attention to them. The Horsemen see anyway.

Light blooms back to its full power across your apartment, your lamps stop trembling, and a pale finger crooks beneath your chin, tilting your head back until you’re peering up at a stoic mask of bone.

Death’s ebony hair falls in curtains around his face as he bends a little to speak to you in a hushed yet urgent tone. “He didn’t…” Hesitating, he draws in an unnecessary breath to fill dead lungs and alters his trajectory. “You were not forced…?”

You wish you didn’t know why that question is so important to Death, why the concept of consent means more to him than it might the others.

“No,” you reiterate miserably, “That’s one thing I do remember. I wanted, uh… it, at the time, a-and so did he. He didn’t know this would happen any more than I did.” You pause to lay a hand over your stomach, furrowing your brow as you give it a pensive stare and missing the way Death’s shoulders slump with relief. After a second or two, you hesitantly raise your chin to look him in the eye again, hoping that what little determination you can inject into your voice will hold strong. “… Look, I’m not proud of it, but it happened. I can’t change things… and… I’m keeping them. I’m sorry, but I’m keeping this baby.”

You hold your breath, expecting arguments, expecting a rebuttal or perhaps even a scoff or two.

“Why would you be sorry for that?” Strife pipes up instead.

It throws you off kilter. Pulling away from Death, you swivel around to frown uncertainly at War and his brother, fiddling with the hem of your jumper’s sleeve. “Well… I mean… I-I’m having the baby…“

When you don’t say anything further, War raises a hand and pulls down his hood, exposing the full extent of his wispy, white hair. “Yes?” he prompts, the unspoken ‘and?’ ringing clear as a bell.

“I’m having the… baby of a… of a man I don’t… know?” you finish slowly, glancing at each of them in turn.

“Big deal!” Strife announces so abruptly, you have to do a double-take, “You don’t need him to help you raise a little human! You’ve got us!”

Nodding her head, Fury adds, “Far be it from me to agree with Strife, but… in this case, he may be right.”

War grunts his own agreement, and when you throw an incredulous look at Death, you’re floored to see him dipping his head in concurrence as well.

“You’re…” Darting your tongue out to wet your dry lips, you squint at the eldest Horseman, asking, “You’re not angry?”

He’s quiet for some time, contemplative even as his gaze roves lower until it comes to a stop on your torso. Then, gently, he replies, “The only qualm I have is that you’ve been trying to bear this weight on your own two shoulders. And while I wish you had told us sooner, at least now we know how to help you.”

“Help me?” you utter, voice cracking.

Death’s eyes dance with a sudden fondness. “Well,” he replies, “As I’m sure Strife has told you repeatedly-“

“- you’re one of us,” said brother butts in, expertly finishing Death’s sentence and stepping up beside you to lay a heavy palm on your shoulder, “We take care of our own. Same goes for your kid.”

You’re too late to stop a choked noise from escaping the base of your throat, but before you can say anything, War steps forwards, towering over you as he pounds a solid, metal fist against his chest, directly over his heart in a show of allegiance.

“You and yours will always have the protection of the Four,” he proclaims.

“You… you don’t have to, you know,” you sniff, swiping a few fingers beneath your eyes, “I signed up for this baby, you guys didn’t. It’s okay if you don’t want to get involved because -“

“-Oh, don’t talk such nonsense,” Fury gruffly interjects, “You’re sorely mistaken if you think either one of us will be leaving your side for the foreseeable future.”

“Fury,” you laugh wetly, aiming a wobbly smile at her, “You mean that?”

The surly Horseman’s lip curls but she merely shrugs and retorts, “I may not care much for children, but someone will have to stick around to teach our youngling how to fight.”

Our youngling…

Your heart squeezes appreciatively, even if she might not have noticed the slip.

“That’s just her way of sayin’ she cares about children if it’s yours,” Strife’s voice murmurs in your ear, and with a gentle nudge at the small of your back, he pushes you towards the sofa his sister has vacated. If Fury hears him, she doesn’t dispute his words.

As you’re herded to sit down, War, ever the more practical of his siblings, is busy casting a rather dissatisfied look around your apartment, making a quick mental note to ramp up fortifications. He’ll have to schedule watches between himself and his siblings too…

“I can’t believe it,” you mutter, half to yourself, half to the Horsemen, sinking down among the cushions of your sofa and shaking your head, “I’ve been so worried about telling you guys I’m pregnant, and you’re just… okay with it.”

“As if we’d be anything else,” Death sighs, roving a quick look over you from head to toe. Squinting slightly, he adds, “Hmm… I’m not, however, okay that you can’t seem to keep food down lately. I take it that’s why you’ve been disappearing so suddenly of late?”

Giving him a sheepish nod, you shuffle to one side, allowing Strife to flop heavily onto the sofa next to you, his enormous thigh squashing you up against the arm rest. “I’ll go for more rations in a bit,” he announces, eager to provide.

“I can go,” you say, “They are for me, after all.”

Burly shoulders bristle in a display of faux authority as Strife instantly argues, “Nuh uh. You’re stayin’ right here where it’s safe.” He grumbles a nonsensical sound, then begrudgingly admits, “Hate you leavin’ at the best of times…”

Despite the niggle of exasperation that begs you to remind them you’re not helpless, just pregnant, you offer him a warm grin and bump your shoulder against his side, saying, “You’re going to make a great uncle, Strife.”

To say the Horseman’s mask almost flies off as he whips his torso around to face you would be an understatement.

You have to lean back, as though pushed away by the sheer intensity of his blazing stare. “What’d you say?” he breathes.

“I… oh, I, er…” Realising you may have overstepped, you swiftly attempt to backtrack. “I mean, that’s not what you have to be called, I was just-“

“-Uncle... That’s the brother of a human’s parent…” His eyes shine like the sun as they bore into you across the sofa. “Right?”

Uncertain, you quirk a brow at him. “Uh, yeah?”

He contemplates that for a second before he asks in a far smaller voice that almost doesn’t sound as if it belongs to the boisterous Horseman you know, “I’m your brother?”

“Of… course?” you blink, surprised that he’d need to even ask that question, “Of course you are. You said it yourself, I’m one of you. Sorry to say it, but that goes both ways. You’re my brother Strife. A-and if you’re okay with it… I’d like you to be this baby’s uncle.” Tearing your eyes off the sharpshooter whilst he none-too subtly coming apart at your side, you send a tentative look up at War, peering at him from under your lashes. “You too, big guy. But! Only if that’s okay with you? I just… want them to grow up knowing who their family is…”

War coughs into a mighty fist, hoping to hide the tiny smile that’s trying to bloom at the sides of his mouth, “In that case, it would be an honour to be acknowledged as the child’s ‘Uncle,’ until my dying breath.”

Always so serious. Giving your head a fond shake, you flash their sister a knowing look and call, “What about Aunt Fury? You on board?”

“Hmph, well,” she shrugs one shoulder, turning to glare at the wall, “It… has a nice ring to it, I suppose.”

You’re not fooled. The way she’s keeps having to wrestle the corners of her lips back into a terse line speaks volumes.

“Of course, I haven’t forgotten about you, Death,” you say, at last addressing the Reaper who is watching the proceeding with a calm, reserved expression. At least until he catches the little smirk lifting your cheeks. “Or should I say, Grandpa Death.”

At once, the Nephilim’s expression flattens, unimpressed. “If you introduce me to that child as ‘Grandpa Death,’ perhaps I won’t be sticking around.”

“Ah, you love it, Gramps, don’t try to deny it,” Strife teases, leaning in to stage-whisper in your ear, “Look at him, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the miserable bastard this happy.”

You have to stifle a snicker for Death’s sake. True to form though, while his eldest brother’s fearsome scowl persists when it lingers on Strife, it soon grows soft again upon turning back to you.

And in that one look, shared between a human and the eldest surviving Nephilim, you realise categorically that Death is with you. All of them are. They aren’t worried about your reputation. They won’t concern themselves with the idle gossip of your neighbours.

They’re family, as is the small spark of life steadily growing inside your stomach.

And father or no, your child is still going to grow up under the watchful eye of the Universe's most diligent and protective guardians.

#Darksiders #darksiders 2 #darksiders 3 #commission #found family #pregnant reader #hiding pregnancy #fluff #hurt/comfort #protective horsemen #allusions to SA

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drarrily-we-row-along · 7 months

Text

Gorgeous

(inspired by t. swift's song)

Harry knew the moment that Draco walked into the bar. He always knew, there was something about the way he carried himself; his magic hot and bright, burning its way up Harry's spine before he'd even actually seen him. He turned his head, craning his neck to get a glimpse of the other man.

"Malfoy must be here," Ron grumbled.

He glanced back at Ron, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that every time he shows up here, you tune out most of what anyone has to say," Seamus piped up.

Harry glared at him, "Shut it. I do not."

"You do," Lavender replied as she slid in next to Parvati across from Hermione. "And it's just so sad because he talks to everyone but you."

He frowned, he had tried to convince himself that it was just his imagination that Draco talked to everyone else and intentionally ignored him. But before he could say anything more, Draco was at their table, he said, "this is Clement," gesturing to the attractive man on his arm before sitting down next to Hermione and immediately striking up a conversation with her.

"It's because he likes you," Blaise said, leaning in closer so Harry could hear him over the noise.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Yeah, right." Draco came with a different date every week, he wasn't interested in Harry.

Blaise shrugged, "Suit yourself but I'm telling you, Potter, that boy's been obsessed with you for years."

Shoving Blaise's shoulder Harry tried to put it from his mind. But as the night wore on, Harry watched Draco talking to everyone in their friend group but him (just like he always did) and when Draco got up to go to the loo, Harry couldn't help but follow. Not wanting to be a perv, he waited outside.

When Draco emerged, he immediately jumped, hand over his heart, "Circe's tits, Potter! What are you doing?"

Instead of answering his question, Harry's inebriated brain supplied one of it's own, "Why won't you talk to me?"

"Excuse me?" Draco asked, looking around as though he thought someone was playing a trick on him.

"I mean, we were friends, right?" he asked, knowing that he sounded more than a little desperate and pathetic. "Like 8th year, we sorted out all of our shit, forgave each other, right?"

"Potter, what are you on about?"

"It's just," he sighed and stared at Draco, wondering if he looked at him hard enough if he'd be able to understand him, "you never talk to me. And you talk to everyone else."

"You should be flattered," Draco said before turning away.

Without thinking Harry reached out and grabbed his hand, giving him a gentle tug, "Wait," he said.

"Adam is waiting," Draco said, not looking up to meet Harry's eyes.

"I thought you said his name was Clement?" Harry murmured.

And before he could do anything else, Draco was pressing him back against the wall and kissing him.

Harry's arms instinctively wrapped around him, drawing him in closer as he kissed him back just as desperately.

"That's what you get for touching my hand in a dark hallway," Draco muttered, nipping at Harry's lips.

"I ought to grab your hand more often, then," Harry replied, tugging Draco's body flush against his own so he could kiss him again.

Draco kissed him back for a long, tension filled moment, body surging and pressing against Harry's before he pulled back, "I fucking hate you."

Harry blinked at him, feeling like he was experiencing whiplash, his brain moving too slow, unutterably confused by the mixed signals he was receiving from Draco's body and his words. "What-" he started, but then Draco was kissing him again.

"I hate your stupid face, and your stupid green eyes," he continued as his hands slid under his tshirt and Harry groaned. "I hate the way you grew into your stupid body; all muscled and handsome. You're so fucking gorgeous, of course I can't talk to you."

"Fuck," he hissed as Draco's nails scraped over his back and Harry flipped their positions, pinning Draco to the wall.

Draco groaned, body shuddering against Harry's as he tried to drag him impossibly closer. "And I hate the way you talk, all honest and earnest, and-" he broke off as Harry sucked hard at his neck. "And I hate that you aren't mine."

Harry pulled back far enough to look him in the eyes, "Draco, you can have me," he said.

"Stop," he whined, giving Harry a shove but immediately tugging him back in. "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not," Harry assured him. "I want you too, in case that wasn't abundantly clear," he said, pressing forward against Draco's body to emphasize his point.

Draco shook his head, "But I want more than just sex with you. Just sex would never be enough."

"Great," Harry replied, kissing down his neck again and pausing to suck at the bruise he'd left forming on his pale skin.

"I'm serious, Potter," Draco growled, fisting a handful of his hair and pulling until Harry looked him in the eyes again.

"Call me Harry," he said.

Draco rolled his eyes, "I'm serious, Harry. I'm a possessive bastard and I will want to keep you forever."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Harry asked, feeling a little weak in the knees at the thought of being treasured and kept.

Narrowing his eyes he asked, "Are you being serious?"

"Yes," he said in exasperation, "Draco. I want you, too. I've been head over tits for you for ages."

"Really?" he asked, looking back and forth between Harry's eyes.

"Ask literally any of our friends," he said. "Yes. Really." He leaned in and gave him another soft, tentative kiss.

Draco shuddered and wrapped his arms around Harry's neck, "Take me home," he whispered.

"From here?"

Draco nodded, eyes closed.

He rubbed his nose over Draco's cheek, "What about-" he broke off trying to remember the bloke's name, "what's-his-name?"

"Who?" Draco asked, hands slipping under Harry's waistband and distracting him even further.

"Your date?" he prompted even as his fingers tangled in Draco's hair, turning his to the side to give himself better access to Draco's neck.

Draco whimpered, body arching against Harry's. He waved a hand, "I don't give a fuck. Take me home. Right now." Then softly, in Harry's ear, "Please," he all but moaned and Harry's self control snapped.

He apparated them right from there, straight into his bed, and suddenly Draco had absolutely no problem talking to him.

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Read more of my fics inspired by songs, if you'd like

tagging the lovely @phoebe-delia since it's taylor swift and that is her jam <3

#drarry #getting together #inspired by taylor swift #draco just really does have the same energy as her #silly #love #fics inspired by songs #a little making out #apparently we've fixed the writer's block- thanks everyone who's left me encouragement and kindness on the things I've posted this week <3 #It's zero to one hundred over here there is no in between. ADHD man.

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mydearesthrry · 9 months

Note

hi! could you do a behind the scenes of the daylight mv?? maybe the reader is an equestrian and owns horses themself and they let harry borrow one for the mv?🤍

Behind the Scenes: Daylight - h.s.

a/n: hi lovely! thank you sm for the request. i kind of got distracted and only had a little bit of equestrian!y/n in this. this is kind of like a behind the album style behind the scenes, hence the interviews :)

🎀 warnings/cw: nothing, fluff the most fluff ever oh my goodness

🐇 pairing: famous!harry x equestrian!reader

💐 wc: 2.2k

“So let’s talk about the Daylight music video,” The man behind the camera says. Almost immediately, a grin is plastered onto Harry’s face as he nods. “Where did you get the idea for all of that, and most importantly, where’d you get a horse?”

Harry snorts at this, and he flicks his eyes over to his girlfriend who sits cross legged on the floor next to the camera. She smiles at him and winks, which makes a pretty pink color flush his cheeks. “Yeah, ‘Ve been getting a couple of questions on the horse. The set was easy enough to come together, jus’ rented a couple of things from different places, but the main inspiration and reason for the video was… It was a date that I had went on two years ago when everything opened up again and we went to the circus.”

—

Harry was so nervous.

Actually, he’s convinced that he’s never felt more nervous in his life. Performing at Wembley couldn’t hold a candle to how he felt right now.

He was going on a date.

Harry had dated around but he’s never felt a spark. In his other more serious relationships, of course that would be a different story, but on all of the other first dates he’d went on, sure, he had a good time, but he would sit at home and text the other his apologies before moving on again. But this time, it was different. He had already felt like he was in love.

He met the sweet girl at a birthday party of a mutual friend, one of his closest childhood friends, Tom. He’d showed up at the party and was immediately greeted by another one of his friends, Aurora, who had then introduced him to the girl she came with. Y/N. He choked up when she first introduced herself, and he stumbled over his words, nervous because of how pretty she was.

For the rest of the night, they talked and talked and were almost attached at the hip, only leaving each others sides for a refill or a trip to the loo. By the end of the night when she’d allowed him to drive her home, he walked her to her door with a kiss on the cheek and left with a number written on his palm since he left his phone in the car. On his drive home, he realized that he didn’t even get to say happy birthday to Tom because he was so entranced by this girl he had just met today.

Harry stared down at his shoes as he contemplated knocking on the door, knowing he had a few minutes to spare. He’d been waiting nervously in his car for about 20 minutes before he worked up the courage to just walk to her door. He cursed himself out in his head before just bringing his fist up to the door thoughtlessly. He smiled at the sound of his date shouting ‘coming!’ through the door, before he heard the lock twist and the door open. Looking up, his breath caught in his throat and he stilled, completely wide eyed.

She looked unreal.

“Hi, Harry!” She greeted, pushing a bit on his shoulder to get him out of his trance. He blinked twice to come to his senses, and shook his head a bit before looking at her fully.

“Hi beautiful, here, um– these are… these are f’you. I didn’t know which flower you liked, so I just got tulips, I hope y’like them, but if you don’t its okay! I jus’ didn’t wanna show up empty handed and come off as rude, I don’t really do this often, and I really like you so I want to do this right, and you look.. Beautiful. But um, yeah.” He ended, voice trailing off at the end.

“You finished, silly boy?” She giggled, taking the flowers graciously and cradling them in her arms. Harry nodded fast, an embarrassed look on his face. “Well, thank you for the flowers, y’actually got my favorite ones, and the color is beautiful. I don’t think you’re gonna do this wrong either Harry, you’ve got me pretty tied up as it is, too.”

—

They made it to the fairgrounds, a bright smile on Harry’s face as he watched her eyes light up at the sight of all of the rides, tents, and the sound of joy in the air. She subconsciously grabbed his hand, leaning into his side as she watched distractedly at everything that was to come.

Squealing, she looked to Harry before smiling, “I’m so excited right now, you have no idea. I haven’t been to the fair since I was like, 17, and I could cry with how excited I am.”

“Y’so cute, don’t explode, then I would be all alone! But I’m glad you’re excited, guess I made a good suggestion, yes?”

“Oh, the best.”

The two had walked around a bit, still hand in hand, occasionally stopping past a booth that would catch their (her) attention. She gasped when she saw a photo booth, booking it and dragging Harry along with her. They’d been at the fair for quite some time now, flirtatious comments and loud laughter filled their dialogue. They sat in the booth, Harry inserting his card against YN’s wishes. The timer started, and they both scrambled to hit their first pose.

The first picture was of them smiling, Harry holding up his infamous peace sign. Their grins were big, a gleam in their eyes. In the second picture, they pressed their cheeks together, Y/N with a pout on her full lips as Harry dropped his jaw, mouth open. The third picture rolled around faster than they thought, and they both looked at each other to figure out what their next pose would be. They could hear the booth speakers counting down from 10, and they both locked eyes, mutual understanding of what was about to happen. Harry brought his hand up to grasp the side of her face that was unseen by the camera when they faced each other, their hands coming together in an interlocked hold on her thighs. They leaned in as the countdown got closer to one, a smile encasing their features.

3! 2! 1!

Right as the timer hit one, their lips were connected, albeit a bit strangely from the wide smiles on their lips. The flash was seen behind their closed eyes, a soft smack filling the room as they pulled away. Harry decided he didn’t have enough, and placed, one, two, three more pecks on her unexpecting lips. When he opened his eyes, he saw the most beautiful smile on her now slightly swollen lips, staring at her with moony eyes.

“C’mon sweet girl, time t’go get our pictures.”

They walked around a bit more, a new atmosphere around them that trailed them since they kissed in the photo booth. The pictures were now tucked away in a secure pouch that she kept in her tote bag, the two of them coming to the agreement that they never wanted to lose those pictures.

They stopped in front of a large red and white tent, seemingly the most popular and main attraction of the night. He looked down at her and raised an eyebrow, and dragged her in by her arm when she smiled and nodded. They found a place outside of the spotlight on the ground closest to the attraction, trying to find a place where Harry wouldn’t be easily noticed. He hadn’t been found tonight so far, and he was grateful for that, the mask covering his identity. They watched on in awe as the acrobats flew in the air, and gasped when a man got blown out of a red cannon. There were dancers on the ground in blue corsets holding feathers, and the loud music filled their ears, drowning out their laughter. The magician placed his assistant in a box and closed it, performing the magic trick perfectly. The next person to come out was holding a colorful parrot, and was talking to it as he performed tricks. Throughout the night, the acts were pulling audience members from the crowd and performing tricks with them and using them to help with their performances.

However, the two didn’t know that they would be chosen at all.

“You! In the blue shirt! Come here, hold the parrot! And bring your boyfriend, he can help us too.” The bird tamer called, pointing out Y/N. Her eyes widened, and she looked over at Harry, tugging on the bottom of his shirt, mumbling out an ‘Oh God!’, whining when Harry pushed her up to go hold the bird. She grabbed his hand and took him up with her, laughter bubbling from Harry while YN walked up like a dog with its tail in its legs. The bird flew between the two, the trick ending with the red parrot on Harry’s shoulder. The photographer of the event got their attention, and they both smiled brightly as the flash went off. Almost unnoticeable, but in the bottom middle of the picture, you could see their hands conjoined and squished in the middle of them.

----

“The date we went on, there were a bunch of different acts but near the end of the show, we both got called up and were messing around with this parrot, which is why I have a parrot on m’shoulder, we have a picture of us with it on me when we went, and all of the same people who performed in the show then were in m’video now, which felt really full circle to me,” A reminiscent smile was on Harry’s face, and anyone who viewed the behind the scenes could tell that he was in love. “After that, though, we walked over to like– a pettin’ zoo sort o’thing, and there were like, baby ponies there and stuff like that, and m’girlfriend, she just freaked. And I mean like, ran over screaming. I asked her after we saw them why she freaked out and she had told me she was an equestrian, so I had the horse in as a nod to her, even though I wrote the whole song that night after I got home.”

The video then switched to a video on the set, Y/N in a pair of leggings, a crewneck from her hometown covering her torso. In her hands was a reign, a beautiful horse behind her.

“Hi! I’m Y/F/N, and we’re on the set of the Daylight music video. So, in the video you can see Harry riding a horse, it’s actually the thumbnail, and I’m the one who’s provided it! I work on a farm with a bunch of different animals, but I’m the main equestrian on our farm, which means that I handle all of the horses. But this one right here,” She smiled, turning on her heel to run her hand along the snout of the horse. “This is my baby, her name’s Honey. She’s my first horse and most special, and I thought it would be right if we had her on the set. She’s my best trained horse, and when Harry mentioned that he wanted to have a scene like this in the music video, I was instantly up for it, and now we’ve got my baby here!”

Harry walked over and stood by the camera man, catching her attention and smiling with his bunny teeth, dimples popping out, making her giggle and blush as she tried to continue speaking. “Um, anyways, yeah! Now we’re gonna show you how we trained Harry to ride the horse!”

The camera turned off and the cameraman threw a thumbs up, making her hook the reign onto the band of her leggings and walk the short distance to Harry. She smiles and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug the best she could. Harry had on a skeleton themed ensemble, and when she pulled back, she giggled.

“Hi, Phoebe Bridgers.” Harry rolled his eyes and breathed a laugh, shaking his head at his girlfriend.

“Silly girl. Thank you for lettin’ m’use y’horse, I love her, and I love you, so much.” He walked them over back to Honey, who snuffed and pushed her head up into Harry’s hand, who was scratching over her skin. Y/N watched in adoration, pulling out her phone from her waistband to snap a picture.

Following the release of Daylight, fans lost their minds when Harry posted, leaving nothing to the imagination as the carousel contained a picture of him, a picture of one of the people who played a clown with a cigarette in their mouth, and what made the fans go crazy, a picture captured by Lloyd of Harry and YN next to Honey. Harry had his arms wrapped around her shoulders in a tight hug, half of his face hiding in her hair with a slight smile playing on his lips, YN with a hand on his arms, the other one in Honey’s maine. In the picture, you could see a thick band on Harry’s left ring finger, and a band and engagement ring ensemble on YN’s ring finger.

harrystyles: Daylight. Out now. 2023.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles blurb #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #harry styles imagines #harry styles au

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mooncalvin · 10 months

Text

Across the hall (pt. 2)

Summary: just George and you getting to know each other a bit better.

Warnings: pure smut. Choking kink, Dom!George, and much more.

Words: 4k

A/n: I'll leave this here and go back to my cave. I just finished uni and now I have much more time for writing so let's just see how it goes. Hope you like this very much!

A few days later you two meet at the same caffee of the last time.

“So what about Georgie?”

You flush once again “I mean, he is really nice, I don’t really know much about him”

“It’s not like you have to know an awful lot of someone to want to fuck them” she stated “By the way, I think he likes you too, we went to see him on Tuesday and he couldn’t shut up about you and your paintings, and he isn’t really an artsy guy, you know?”

“But before this , he barely even looked at my direction, I’m sure he didn’t even know I existed”

“Girl! The only reason I went for sugar to your house is because he said you looked nice and didn’t want to go by himself, we weren’t even baking a cake” her answer took you by surprise.

“Lily!”

You kept talking to her as the days went by, you were more similar than what you would’ve thought. But he wouldn’t stop bringing up George, dead-set on getting you two together.

You haven’t seen him since the last interaction at your apartment one week ago. So you were surprised when you saw him knocking at your door.

“Hi” you greeted him, failing to hide your smile “is there anything you need”.

“Not really” he answered “I thought it was only fair to invite you for coffee at my place since you invited me the other day.” he proposed to you shyly.

“Sure I would love to,” you said enthusiastically.

You walked to his flat, very different from yours, sober and modern style, almost impersonal, probably because he has recently moved in. You smiled when you saw some of his helmets and pictures of a much younger him from when he was in the lower racing categories.

“You were cute here” he smiled as a red layer covered his cheeks.

“Well, do you want to sit down? I can put on a movie or something while I prepare the drinks” he muttered.

“Yeah, sure”. After a while he returns and sits next to you, fairly close to you, but not enough. Neither of you started a conversation at first, feeling a bit awkward. It’s him who breaks the silence.

“How is your artwork coming?” you turn to him to answer.

“I finished the piece I was working on when you visited, now I’m working on a personal piece.” he hummed and turned his gaze to the tv. A while after, you turn your head to discover him already looking at you. This man has to be interested in you, right? The looks he’s been giving to you since you’ve entered his apartment screaming “I’m thinking about fucking you right now”. He wouldn’t be smirking and staring at you if he didn’t want to sleep with you. But were you going to act on it? Hell no.

“So, you are a formula one driver” you stated.

“I am indeed” he answered.

“And how is it?” you asked, genuinely curious about it.

“Well, I’ve been racing all my life and formula one is the top of racing, so it feels like an actual dream but it also has its flaws. I don’t really like all of the press stuff and how paparazzis and magazines intrude into your private life, ” he said. You bite your lip while listening to him.

“If you don’t stop biting your lip like that I don't know how much more I could control myself” he mutters so quietly that you almost can’t hear him, but you do. Your eyes go wide as you freeze, watching how he licks his lips as he approaches you “God I want to fuck you so bad.”

All the breath leaves your body, heat rushing to your core. Your cheeks are bright red, heart shaking as you look at him.

He actually wants you. He wants to fuck you.

All you can do is look at him, muttering a quiet “George…” Before he is leaning over you, body pressing against yours, lips so close that you can feel his hot breath, hands gripping your chin. You can feel the slight hardness poking at your stomach so you look down briefly before looking into his eyes again.

George’s blue eyes stare into yours, watching your every movement. Your lips are practically brushing each other. And his hand goes to your hip, pressing you close to him. A moan escapes your mouth before his lips are fully into yours, silencing you.

It takes you a second to respond to the kiss. But then you feel his lips move against your and follow, kissing him with passion. Your hands come up to hold onto him. One pressing against his cheek and the other on the back of his head, so you can run it through his hair. He presses you harder against him as his other hand goes to your hair tugging it, leaving your neck uncovered, so he can start to kiss it and bite it.

He lets out a little moan when you pull his hair to bring your lips together again.

One of his hands moves up to your neck, wrapping around it and adding a light pressure. You take his bottom lip with your teeth , pulling back and biting down lightly before pulling away from his lips entirely.

He stares down at you, hand wrapped around your neck as you pant and whine, legs wrapped around him squeezing while you attempt to grind into him.

“Do you like it rough sweet girl?” A laugh escapes him, fingers pressing into your throat a little tighter for a moment, you moan out, nodding your head.

Right now you feel like you’ve never before, relinquishing all your control to George as your mind goes fuzzy and your pussy gets wetter.

Both of you moan when George grinds his cock straight into you, the friction scratching right against your clit.

He buries his head into your neck befores going upwars, his mouth coming to rest beside your ear.

“I’m going to take you into my room and I’m going to eat this pussy before fucking you raw. Is that alright darling?” your pussy clenches as and your head is nodding before he grabs you under your thighs and picks you up, walking through his apartment towards his bedroom.

You bounce on the bed when he throws you down, giggling while you lay there and stare at him.

He stands at the end of the bed, tall and imposing.

You watch as he takes off his t-shirt, his body skinny but full of muscle, wanting nothing more than to rip the rest of his clothes, but he is quicker as he grabs your legs and slides you down the bed.

“Do you want this sweetheart?” he stares down at you with a smirk, palming his erection through his trousers. You glance at him, nodding your head. “Words, darling”

“Yes,” you mutter.

“Yes what? Your eyebrows furrow, and you take a moment comprehending what you heard before you realise.

“Yes sir” you practically moan.

He lets out a groan at your words, hands rushing to undo your belt and take off your trousers, sliding them down your legs, leaving you in only your panties.

You’re grateful that you didn't choose to wear your teddy bear panties, maybe you knew that something like this could happen.

George moans when he sees your soaked underwear, a hand reaching your covered pussy. You whine and move your hips up, only hoping that he would do something else. “George…” Suddenly he is rushing to pull your pants down your legs, spreading them and throwing them over his shoulders as he kneels in front of you.

You lay there in anticipation as George lays open mouthed kisses on your thighs. He continues to tease you, coming closer to your core before moving away. Your whine at the teasing.

“So desperate for me, aren’t you?” When you look down at him, he’s still looking at you, lips puffy from all the kisses you shared. “If you beg me I might just consider going further love” he says before nipping the skin of your thigh.

Your legs tighten around his head “Please, George, please, I need it so bad”. He scoffs against your leg, a hand going up to caress your ass gently, before laying a smack onto it, making your hips buck into him.

“I don’t think I remember what I told you to call me, was it that?” He says sharply.

“Please sir…” you let out another whine as he licks a strip up your pussy, getting the attention you needed.

“You taste so good, sweet girl” he says before diving back and running his tongue all the way to your clit, sucking it.

You moan out, and your hands fly to tangle in his hair and pull. He lets out a moan and brings an arm to hold your hips down, continuing his duty.

You cannot stop moaning, a pressure building up your lower stomach as he continues with his torment.

He fucks you with his tongue, his nose digging into your clit, one of his hands harshly gripping onto your thighs as they rest on his shoulders. All you can do is look down and watch him, eyes almost closed because of the pleasure.

His hand releases your leg and comes to your pussy, one of your fingers sliding into it, making your grip on his hair tighten.

He puts another one not long after, curving both of them, hitting the spot that makes you see stars. He pulls his face away from you for a moment, his fingers still fucking you as he looks up at you, his chin covered in your slick. Your walls clench around his fingers, making him let out a laugh, motivating him to do it harder.

“Such a dirty little whore, aren’t you?” you tighten around his fingers as he says it, making him laugh again “You like that, don’t you? My little slut” you let out a moan indicating that you are going to come soon.

“I-I’m going to come” you stutter, not being able to form a coherent sentence.

“Yeah baby? Are you going to soak my fingers like the dirty girl you are?” you feel as he adds a third one, stretching you.

You moan as a confirmation, and he leans down again, sucking you hard as he continues pounding his fingers into you.

You feel your stomach pull tighter, as your release comes, moaning his name as you cum. Your legs shake, back arching as the pleasure invades you. That doesn’t make him stop, as he continues licking you through your orgasm.

He pulls away from your pussy, and lets his hand to his mouth, tasting your release as he lets out a moan.

He stands up fully, towering over you once again as you lay in bed, recovering from the orgasm that has just hit you.

You come back to earth as you feel him grab your waist and hike you up the bed, resting your head on one of the pillows that lies there. Then he dives down to connect your lips and your hands go up to wrap around his shoulders, nails digging into them. You continue to kiss as he grinds his erection over your pussy. You shake at the overstimulation, whining when his lips leave your mouth. You open your eyes to see him hovering over you, smirk on his face.

“From the moment I saw you I knew I had to ruin you” he says, eyes dark with lust. You moan at his words.

“Please fuck me George” you mutter, pulling him back down and kissing him fiercely. He pins your wrists to the bed, taking control.

He pulls away, releasing your arms and pulling you up so he can pull your shirt off, admiring your breasts in your bra before removing it. He pushes you back down and starts laying kisses across your chest until he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking it lightly and pinching the other one with his hand. You moan, your hips grinding on him and hands on his hair as he continues to lap at your breasts, switching between them.

He pulls away and stares at you for a moment, “I’m going to fuck you so hard” he says before pulling away undoing his pants so he can push them and his underwear down, revealing his cock to you.

He’s actually bigger than you expected, precum dripping from his tip. You can’t help but moan at the sight as your legs open on their own, almost like a reflex, exposing yourself to him again.

He laughs at your eagerness. “You don’t mind if I fuck you raw, do you, love?” you shake your head quickly.

“Please I need to feel you inside me” You whine, becoming desperate for him. He smirks at you as he climbs the bed, crawling on top of you, getting himself between your legs, dragging his cock across your wet folds, making you leave a moan as he brushes your clit.

He grabs your legs, pushing them up slightly as he holds himself up on top of you, guiding the tip to your hole, pushing it slightly.

Both of you moan, your back arched at the feeling and your eyes closed. But they shoot open when you feel George wrapping one of his hands around your throat, adding a light pressure “that’s right babygirl” he whispers “keep your eyes open for me”.

Then he begins pushing in, your walls squeezing him as you struggle to keep your eyes open, gasping.

He mumbles a “fuck” and keeps pushing in, hand squeezing your throat slightly.

“Oh George…” you whine when he bottoms out, him fully inside you.

The feeling is just amazing. The stretch of his dick and the feeling of his hand around your throat sends you into a state of bliss, making you struggle to keep your eyes open.

George is not much better, his eyes are also closed as he refrains himself not to start pounding into you like some kind of animal, wanting to give you a second to adjust to his size before fucking you fully.

His eyes are open when he hears you mutter a little “please”. And he looks at your face as you stare up at him, begging him to move and fuck you.

He doesn’t waste a second, pulling out of you before sliding back in.

You both moan at the same time and he begins pushing in and out of your cunt, picking up his pace.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your hands come to grab his wrist as he continues to choke you, slowing your breathing in the most delightful way.

The coil is back on your stomach, this time faster than before. The feeling of his cock pushing against your walls is just as good as you had imagined, maybe even better.

You stare up at him as he pounds into you, his pace picking up as your eyes catch his. He slides the hand that was at your throat down your body until it reaches your clit, rubbing it.

“Open your mouth” he suddenly says. You can’t help but be confused, not really understanding why you should open your mouth, but you do it anyway. You watch as he spits in your mouth. “Swallow it”. You do it immediately, your pussy squeezing as he lets out a “good girl” after.

He lets out another moan before pulling out of you.

You whine at the emptiness, hands going to his arms before he’s grabbing you and flipping you over onto your stomach, grabbing your hips and pitching them up, hips in the air and face buried in the pillows.

George grabs onto your ass, kneading it before leaning down and biting you, spanking you after you let a little moan. “You’re just the perfect girl for me”. You hear him mutter before his hands go to your hips and he starts pushing his cock into you again, making you moan happily.

Now he goes pounding into you, pace fast and rough as he fucks you into the bed.

His cock glides in and out of you, the occasional smack on your ass as you moan out.

You feel so close to coming. “Harder George please!”, you call out, painting and gripping onto the sheets tight as his trusts get harder.

He grabs your hair, pulling until you’re leaning up on your knees, your back to his chest, hitting deeper with each thrust. You moan together, and you turn your face to his, your lips connecting in a sloppy but passionate kiss. Your hand cradles his head, the other grabbing his side, as he continues to fuck up into you.

You feel the coil tighten and tighten, bringing you closer to relief. And as if he had read your mind, George’s hand comes to your clit, making you cum all over him.

You moan loudly, body trembling as he continues to fuck you, your hand pullin his hair tightly, even louder when you feel the heat of his cum fill you as he comes inside of you, his own moans mixing with yours as he connects your lips again.

You keep kissing as you come down from your highs. Breaths steadying when you pull away from each other.

You stare into his eyes as he stares into yours, the both of you panting. A smile makes its way into your lips, one forming in his no long after. One of his hands comes to cradle the back of your head, pulling you into him to kiss you again.

He then slowly pulls his cock out of your pussy, making you whine at the feeling, already missing him. He gives you a short peck and helps you lay down on the bed before pulling away from you entirely.

“I’ll come back in a moment, love” he says. You nod and close your eyes as you feel the exhaustion creepin into you.

You don’t even know how long it went until George gets back. You feel him spread your legs a little before a wet cloth is cleaning away the cum that pools your pussy. You half open your eyes and watch him, a dizzy smile on your face at his caring actions.

He glances at you when he’s done, climbing back into bed next to you.

He pulls you into him, pulling you to rest onto his chest. You wrap your arm around him, squeezing harder when you hear his heart beating faster.

You feel him lean down and press a kiss to your head, sighing in contentment at the moment.

After what could have been hours but were just a few minutes settling after your littler encounter, you pull away from him a little bit, leaning up as you look at him, him looking back at you. A small smile rests on his face, and you lean forward to press a kiss to his lips, humming with joy as his lips press back.

When you pull away you look back at him.

It’s now or never.

“Would you go on a date with me?” you ask him, anxiety crippling.

He can’t help but laugh at your question.

“I’d love to go on a date with you”.

Taglist: @mysticalnightenthusiast @vildetry06 @rens-daylight

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #george russell imagine #george russell x reader #george russell smut #george russell fluff

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localityghost · 3 months

Note

Hiii darling,

May I request a kakucho fluff but with smut in it too🔥 I’m sooo thirsty for this man ughh

☆𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰☆

◇—ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ'ꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ||Kakucho x ʏᴏᴜ♡

◇— ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ||You and Kakucho's relationship

◇ —ᴄᴡ||Smut, fluff, biting, hair pulling, breeding kink

◇- AN|| Haven't written for bro in a while so apologies since it took so long😭🫶

If someone had told you the gentle giant of Bonten was pampering you, you'd call them crazy, insane even, as Kakucho held your hand walking down the street, you were a pretty little thing attached to his hip at all times. He never left you alone for a second, especially with a status as crucial as his he worried you'd end up kidnapped or, even worse, dead

Kakucho loved you dearly and promised to live a peaceful life with you as you two often discussed having a family together. To your surprise, Kakucho had a very high baby fever as he would always talk about babies and how he'd love to see your cute little pregnant baby belly as he would caress your stomach and stroke it at night just at the thought of you two raising a kid together. Kakucho just fathoms at the idea of you carrying his kid or kids if you decided to have multiple, he wouldn't mind but they'd be a handful so when the baby fever hit you decided to take matters into your own hands.

As you walk into the Bonten hideout to meet Kakucho, you notice his expression looks troubled. "You look different today," Kakucho says, looking up from a stack of documents. "Different how?" you ask, feeling a flash of nervous energy passing through their body. "Well," Kakucho stands up and approaches you, eyeing them head to toe. "Usually, you're quite modest with your attire. Today, you're wearing low-cut top and skin-tight pants."

You feel your cheeks flush as they realize their choice of clothes might be a little too forward for Kakucho, who is known for being a serious, no-nonsense type of person. "I just thought it would be a fun way to express myself." Kakucho pauses for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. "I see," he says finally. "But don't you think it's a little... inappropriate?"

Y/N's heart sinks a little at the comment. They've always wanted to dress how they feel comfortable and express their individual style, but they never want to come across as disrespectful. "I apologize if my outfit made you uncomfortable," they say, feeling a pang of guilt. Kakucho leans in closer, his intense gaze making you feel as though they're on the receiving end of a fierce interrogation. "Are you trying to tease me with this outfit?"

Your eyes widen in surprise. Teasing Kakucho? The thought would have never crossed their mind. "No, of course not," you say, shaking their head. "I would never intentionally do anything to make you uncomfortable." Kakucho nods slowly, seemingly considering their words. "Well, I don't mind a little bit of teasing," he says, a playful smirk appearing on his face. "But if you keep wearing outfits like this, you might find yourself in a sticky situation."

Your heart skips a beat at Kakucho's words. You never expected such a bold comment from him, but they can't deny that it's a little exciting. "Is that so?" You reply, trying to sound playful but feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach. Kakucho only laughs, seemingly bemused by their reaction. "Just be careful, Y/N. If you keep messing with me, I'm not sure what I'll do..." God, was he right because now you found yourself in a sticky situation.

You were standing in the corner of the Bonten hideout, trying to blend into the shadows as usual. You were so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn't hear Kakucho's approach until he was right behind you "Hey, Y/N," Kakucho's deep, raspy voice echoed through the empty room. You turned around, their eyes widening in surprise as you saw the tall, muscular man of Bonten standing before them. Kakucho reached out and grabbed your arms, pinning them against the wall. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you looked up at Kakucho, who was staring down at them with his sharp, piercing gaze.

Kakucho's face was mere inches from yours, and you could feel his warm breath on your skin. As your fragile heart was racing you tried to come up with something to say, but your mind was drawing a blank. Kakucho's voice was low and intense as he spoke. "I've been watching you, Y/N," he said, his gaze locked on their eyes. "You've been acting strange lately. What's on your mind?" Your heart skipped a beat as they realized that Kakucho had picked up on their feelings for him. You tried to steady their breathing as you replied, "I-I don't know what you mean." Kakucho's grip on their arms tightened slightly, and he pressed his body closer to yours. "Don't play stupid with me," he whispered in your ear. "I know what you've been doing...trying to get me all riled up with these little acts of yours but all this is gonna be dealt with in one go."

You suddenly felt a rush of adrenaline as you realized that Kakucho had figured out your secret. You didn't know what to say or how to react, but you couldn't deny the fact that you were utterly flustered by his attention. Kakucho's face was millimeters away from yourd now, and his intense gaze was making it difficult for you to think straight. You felt your heart beating faster and faster as his body pressed against yours. Kakucho's lips were just inches from yours as you hesitated. Kakucho pushed your head forward, his tongue intertwining with yours before long you could feel his cock, even though it was in his slacks you could feel press up against your panties. With a few minutes passing by he had you up against the one of your legs in his hand as he began to thrust "Just like that...nn- God you feel so good" he groaned quietly you could feel his hair on your body. You felt his cock dive deeply into you, after all he was a big guy so obviously he was gonna go deep. As kakucho continued to move his hips, you felt him graze your walls, which sent shocks through your body every time he rubbed a nerve a specific way. You hung your head down as you did Kakucho grabbed your hair pulling on it, not too rough though but just enough to get a point across you felt him speed his tip touching your sweet spot, your eyes rolling back as he continues "Mm, I wanna fill you up with my cum" he said whining pressing his body over you to make himself go deeper. You felt like he was gonna break you almost but feeling his warm cum inside you made clit twitch and nippes perk up as he circled them with his hands. He knew where to touch all your sweet spots. You came from the overstimulation, but despite that, he kept going regardless, deadset on filling you up to the brim.

#tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers smut #tr smut #bonten x reader smut #localghostsblackgirlfics!#tokyo revengers smut headcanons #kakucho x reader smut #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev smut #tokyorev headcanons #kakucho x reader #kakucho hitto #kakucho #tenjiku #tokrev #bonten

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

Note

AITA for leaving an unflushable poo in someone's toilet? ....This one is gross. Sorry.

I have diverticulitis, which is... a bathroom issue. They thought it was Crohn's for a long time, and many incompetent doctors + health complications later, they found out I had an enormous abscess and a golfball-sized fistula growing inside my colon. As you can imagine, this comes with a plethora of issues I am too embarrassed to divulge in their entirety.

This event happened before I had the abscess surgically removed, so I was mid 20s at the time. A friend set me up with this guy I had met once before at a party (J). It was practically a blind date. Things went well and we went back to his house.

Then it happened.

The gurgling. The pain. I told him I needed to go to the bathroom. As luck would have it, this was the WORST bathroom emergency I have ever had in my entire life. I shat more than I have ever shat. I was worried parts of my body would escape out of me and I would somehow reverse-hungry-caterpillar myself into nothingness.

I spent so long doing the deed and trying to clean it up, it must have been around 2 full hours, and we were both reasonably drunk - so when I went to peek my head in the living room, he was asleep. I tried again to plunge this beast back from whence it came. I was crying. It's quite funny in hindsight but as you can imagine, easily one of the worst humiliations I have ever endured. At one point, I had my HAND and FOREARM down this guy's toilet trying to set free the freakish poobaby I had just conceived in his otherwise impeccable loo (a fancy one with BUTTONS instead of a flush handle!). I even took the top off the toilet and tried to... hand-pump the water, I guess? Desperation.

I finally gave up. The whole room stank like sulfur and purse-sized citrus bodyspray so I cracked the window and cleaned up the best I could. I realized that it was, at this point, best left to a professional plumber, or perhaps an exorcist. I was younger and embarrassed and opted to go home, leaving nothing but a foul scent trail and a very small note (Later referred to by my friends as the Ghost Shitter Calling Card) written on a toilet paper square that said "oops" because I guess I thought that would be funny and maybe soften the blow. It was decidedly Not Funny, however, and to my surprise, he never made me foot the plumbing bill, but he did politely tell me that he was uninterested in going out again. Not that I blame him.

Lots of crying and shame later, and after getting my issues fixed via surgery, I am now wondering if there was a better course of action here. My friends do love this story but some of them have mentioned they would be LIVID if somebody did that to them. I know I am probably the asshole for leaving it like that. I really did try my best, and I do believe any people on here with less-than-ladylike health issues will at least partially understand what it's like, and what I was thinking at the time.

TLDR I clogged my date's toilet and left it like that since he fell asleep. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #unsanitary cw

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 7 months

Text

Love, oh love

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, September 2023 edition. Third time IS the charm, I guess.

Prompt: charm, 548 words

Rated: M

CW: some sexual innuendo, excessive use of British English

Notes: Bitches be like "OMG, you can't make Steve use British slang, it ruins the viiibe!!!" - Me: Watch me! 😘

The first time it happens, they're on the sofa at Harrington Manor - Robin cuddled into Steve’s left side, Eddie not-quite tucked into his right. Some action flick from Family Video is running, not that Eddie is watching. Too preoccupied with how the lights bounce off that handsome face.

Steve gets up, pauses the movie. Robin glares as she slips off his shoulder.

"Sorry," Steve mumbles. "Need to go to the loo."

And then he's gone and Eddie … stares.

"Did he … just say loo?"

Robin catches some popcorn with her mouth.

"Oh yeah, it's something he does. His nanny was British. Just ignore it, he's kind of self-conscious about it."

Eddie gulps, ears prickling with heat.

"He's fucking adorable is what he is."

Robin gags and slaps him, and none of them loses another word about it.

Eddie tries to ignore it, it's just ... not that easy.

The closer they get, the more he notices. How Steve will sometimes … slip.

Tell Eddie to keep his hands off the dough while they're wrapped around each other in the kitchen, it's for the biscuits.

Stir while half asleep in Eddie’s arms, mumbling about popping by the store tomorrow, because they're out of chips.

It always happens when Steve's guard is down, when he feels safe. Safe with him. The thought makes warmth bloom in Eddie’s chest.

And then he can't ignore it anymore.

They're at the quarry, just the two of them. Spread out in the grass, gazing up at the dusk-streaked sky, sun dipping behind the trees.

"Hey," Steve murmurs against Eddie's shoulder, breath tickling his skin. "Can you get my jumper from the boot? It's getting cold."

Eddie swallows around the beat of his own heart in his throat. "Yeah, sure."

As he makes to get up, Steve turns his head and presses a sloppy kiss to the edge of his mouth.

"Thanks, love."

Eddie freezes. Not only because of the way the word comes out - all soft and long on the v-sound, the vowel more u than o. Also because it's the first time.

Steve sees his expression - and his face morphs from lazy bliss to horror.

"Oh shit," He shoots upright, hides his face between hunched knees. "This is so embarrassing."

"Hey," Eddie is next to him in an instant, disentangles his hands from his hair. "Stevie, what is it?"

Steve groans, looks up at him, face flushed all the way down to the moles on his neck.

"I slipped. Didn’t want you to know."

Eddie can't help it, he snorts a laugh. "Yeah well, you've been doing it for a while."

Steve's eyes go wide with disbelief. "And you … you don't think it's stupid or-"

"I think," Eddie grins, and grabs Steve’s face in both hands so that he can kiss the bridge of his nose. "It's completely and utterly charming. In fact, I want you to say it again."

"... Jumper?"

"No, baby. The other one."

Eddie nips at a pink bottom lip and the word rushes out on a breathy moan.

"L- love?"

"Exactly." He pushes Steve to the ground, kissing down his jaw and neck. "Now … how about you take off these trousers … and I make you say it some more?"

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddiemicroficseptember #steddie microfic #hype's microfics

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robinbuckleysgfreall · 1 year

Note

would u be so kind to slut out enid

At your service *dramatic bow*

Good little girl

Enid Sinclair x fem!reader

Summary: reader has a “bad girl” reputation however Enid is infatuated with them none the less. Reader questions why such a good girl would want to be with them and finally gives in and shows enid a good time.

“good little girl always licking a fight with me you know that I’m bad but your spending the night with me..”

Warnings: smut, innocent kink??, lesbian sex,

Enid has been watching you for weeks. You knew it but you never said anything. You couldn’t quite pinpoint why it was at first. Was she investigating you for her blog? Was she spying on you for her roommate Wednesday? Either way you couldn’t tell if you were more flattered of creeped out. Sure Enid was cute, absolutely adorable infact, the things you would do to her if you could but she was far too innocent for you.

From the way she skipped down the halls,the way her blonde and dyed hair swayed above her shoulders to the way her cheeks lit up brightly every time you caught her staring at you almost… longingly? In your eyes Enid would never be interested in someone like you, a “trouble maker” not as “ tortured artist” as Xavier but close enough. Enid was a pretty in pink kind of girl you were more of grey. Not quite as dark as Wednesday but not light either. Little did you know that that was exactaly what pulled Enid to you more and more.

Soon enough Enid found herself changing her walking route to class just to accidently bump into you or sitting opposite you in the canteen at lunch just so she could catch a glimpse of your charismatic smirk as you laughed with your friends. Every night (whilst Wednesday was firmly asleep with her noise cancelling headphones to block out any sound of life) Enid would pull out her special stuffed animal from beneath her bed, the one reserved especially for her pleasure, and hump it frantically to the thought of you and your ring adorned hands and smirking lips. She couldn’t help it, she needed you and as much as she tried to keep up the innocent act, her thoughts of you were not so.

Enid’s chance to get closer to you arose a few weeks later when you were assigned as partners for a class. You subconsciously watched the way her hips swayed as you skipped over to sit next to you, accidently brushing your thighs together beneath the table making her cheeks turn that cute shade of pink you adored. You subconsciously wondered what other parts of her would flush that shade of pink, perhaps her nipples as you abused them tirelessly with your tongue, or her cl-

You were suddenly pulled from your horny thoughts as you felt her place a hand on your shoulder “so my dorm tonight then y/n?” She said with a smile, you looked at her confused and she gestured towards the assignment infront of you and you quickly nodded in response before turning your attention back to the lesson so she couldn’t see how flustered you had become.

Later that evening you got changed, into something simple a loose shirt and some shorts, before making your way to Enid’s room. Your palms were sweaty as you knocked on the door hearing a squeal from inside and a rush of movement before the door opened to reveal a flushed looking Enid wearing a spiral pink crop top and shorts. You said hi as she let you in and sneakily gave her the once over, noticing the way her nipples were peaking through her top. No bra? You thought. What had Enid been up to before you arrived. You perched yourself on the edge of Enid’s bed as you pulled out the assignment and you got to work. After about an hour you both found yourself sitting much closer, legs touching, as you chatted about life and friends completely ditching the assignment before you.

“What’s with all the stuffed animals?” You asked teasingly thing a laugh. Enid placed her hands over her face embarrassed but you reached for her hand and reassured her that you thought they were cute. She eased at that. “Like that bunny over there, looks like the one from Alice in wonderland” “i love that movie!” Enid gushed “woah whose this big guy?” You said reaching for a teddy that was logged behind her pillow. Enid reached her arm out to stop you touching it but it was too late you had already grabbed it.

“What’s the big deal this guys so ador-“ you stopped your teasing statement as you hand landed on a particular wet, sticky patch of the toy. Enid looked at you dear in her eyes as you clocked what it was. “I’m SO sorry, i was going to put him away but i didn’t have time” she stopped mid sentence and watched in awe as you took the fingers of your sticky hand and licked them clean, eyes rolling back in your head. Enid gulped back a moan at the erotic sight her thighs clenching together.

“You taste so sweet Enid.” You teased. “Tell me” you crawled towards her “what’s a sweet little thing like you got in her mind whist rutting desperately into this hm?” Enid began to stutter out a response but you interrupted her with a finger over her plush lips.

“Where you thinking about me? Enid be honest darling” she nodded frantically nuzzling her face towards your hand like a puppy. You placed a hand on her clenched thighs pressing them open. “Is this ok?” You asked. “Yes please touch Me” she begged and you wasted no time tearing off her shorts revealing her still puffy, pink pussy her clit on display aching to be played with. “Aw no panties? You are naughtier than i thought” you commented making her blush and giggle.

You began rubbing her aching clit whilst diving in to kiss her on the lips, biting them to make her moan into your mouth. You lowered your head between her thighs and began sucking on her clit before entering two fingers into her aching hole. She moaned wildly, grabbing frantically onto your hair to ground herself as you ravished her pussy, drunk on the sweet taste of her. Just as Enid was about to tip over the edge you pulled away, face dripping with her slick.

She let out a wolf ish sound like mix between a whine and a growl and you smirked at her. “Don’t worry baby I’ll let you finish, but i want you to use this” you lifted up the teddy again. “Show me how you please yourself to the thought of me, go on be a good little slut” Her head clouded with thoughts of only pleasing you and reaching her own pleasure, Enid obliged, placing the toy between her thighs and grinding down onto it pulling a gasp from her lips at the friction on her worked up clit from you playing with her moments before.

You slipped out of your own panties and shorts as you watched her and began fingering yourself at the sight of her infront of you, watching you get off made her actions more frantic and rushed. The sight of her slurring herself out like this for your viewing pleasure made both your mouth and your pussy water deliciously. You watched as her rosy clit made contact with the plush toy and it made you think back to you thoughts earlier in class. You crawled towards her again, pulling up her shirt to reveal her pretty pink nipples, erect with pleasure and her tits bouncing from her movements. She moaned as you took one into your mouth sucking on it and toying with the other in your hands.

It didn’t take long after for you to both finish together and you lay in a sweat, cuddled together under her colourful duvet. Her head tucked into the crook of your neck, naked bodies entwined together. “What’s a good girl like you doing spending the night with someone like me?” You asked. “Maybe I like a bad girl, this kitty has claws too” she joked snuggling further into you as you placed a kiss atop her head.

—- finished

I hope you liked its kinda rushed but i enjoyed writing it :)

#enid sinclair x reader smut #enid is a lesbian #enid sinclair x reader #enid sinclair smut #lesbian smut #Wednesday smut #Enid Sinclair #wednesday Addams #ajax petropolus

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goodgirlofglory · 1 year

Text

Occupied / One-shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2,5k

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral (m recieving), blowjob, balls-worship, handjob, a smidge of painplay (concerning the aforementioned balls), some d/s undertones (with Bucky being a sweet subby boy and loving being manhandled), exhibitionist kink, semi-public sex (they're in the loo with a lot of people outside), cumshot in mouth, swallowing cum, a little cum in hair (lol)

Summary: You have dragged Bucky into the handicapable toilet on the main floor of the administrations floor of S.H.I.E.L.D and intend to swallow his cock. Who is he to say no?

Note: Hiyaaa, this is just a short, cheeky little something for those who have a sweet tooth for subby simpy Bucky (ie ME)💞 This excists in the same universe as Ambrosial, my first Bucky fic, and happens sometime after Bucky and reader start getting real comfortable with each other🥰 Hope you enjoy🦋

(Not betaread so all mistakes are mine and i kinda can't be arsed to care🤷‍♀️😘)

Replies, reblogs, likes and asks are amazing💫💕

«Hnngh!»

The choked groan escaped Bucky’s gritted teeth despite his uttermost efforts to keep it in. A low hum came in answer from below, either in agreement or appreciation - or a mix of both. Bucky could hear the continuous buzz of people milling about outside the handicapped toilet. He didn’t really need his enhanced hearing to hear how busy it was, but his heightened senses almost made it seem like the crowd was inside the room with the two of you. It was on the main floor of the administration's wing for God’s sake - and you were on your knees at Bucky’s feet, softly nuzzling the hard bulge that had formed in his pants during the last thirty seconds since you pulled him into the single lavatory room and flipped the lock to “occupied”.

Oh who was he kidding, he’d been sporting a semi since you gave him that low-lidded glance in the strategy meeting an hour back. He would recognise that look anywhere, anytime and it always went right to his cock like an adrenaline shock. Now all his blood was rushing south so fast he almost felt faint. Faint with anticipation at what you apparently intended to do mere meters away from the whole administration of S.H.I.E.L.D – and faint with nerves at you doing this mere meters away from the whole administrations office of S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Fuuuck,” Bucky grated out, biting his fist to stop himself from groaning louder as your nimble fingers undid his pants and let his cock bounce free of its restraints. Bucky’s breath was out of fucking control, huffing unevenly as his muscles ached to grab at you, to bring you closer, to bend you over the sink or throw you over his shoulder and make the escape to one of your rooms. He wasn’t really picky about the places he took you, but this? This was kind of insane, even for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it, he fucking lived for your hands on his body, and your mouth on his cock was the highlight of any week whenever you graciously gifted it to him. But…but shit, this was really fucking close to a lot of fucking people, and Bucky was always way too fucking loud for this kind of sneaking around. Sweat beaded his brow as he strained to keep still and keep quiet, burning arousal mixing with anxiety to a heady concoction inside him.

You didn’t seem to share his concerns at all, slowly taking his shaft in your hand, pumping his foreskin up and down his cock languidly, staring hungrily at his leaky head like it was your favorite thing in the world. Your cheeks were flushed pink, your eyes wide and blown out with lust and oh god, you looked so fucking good on your knees like that, the sight made Bucky’s own knees wobble. He reached out with his hand to clutch the shelf of extra towels and toilet paper next to him, the wood groaning in protest at his grip.

“Y-you sure about this?” he asked for probably the half-dozenth time, voice low and gravelly even as he tried to whisper.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, shining with mischief, and you nodded, a sickly sweet “mhm” sounding in your throat. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck, Bucky could deny you nothing when you did that. When you looked so cute and excited. When you so sweetly – and literally – took him by the cock and simply let him know you would have your way with him now. There was no way he would stop you on his own, he was completely powerless against you and his cock throbbed in your hand at the knowledge.

You leaned forward and Bucky stared helplessly as you stretched your pink tongue out and licked over where a thick drop of precum beaded at the tip of his cock, eyes looking up at him. His breath rushed out of him at the sensation, your wet and soft mouth closing around the head of his cock. Shivers wracked up his spine and he clutched the shelf tighter to ground himself as the pleasure coursed over him like a tidal wave, goosebumps rising on the back of his neck at the way you teased his sensitive tip with your tongue - the way that made his jaw go all slack and his mind quiet down to a pleasant buzz, empty of all but you, you, you.

It hadn’t taken Bucky long to realize you had a little exhibitionism kink in you. Nothing seemed to turn you on more than the threat of being caught. Or maybe it was the way Bucky got flustered and nervous at the risk of being caught that excited you. Maybe you were a sadist. If so, Bucky might be a masochist, for his cock was never harder than when he was fraught with the anxious anticipation of the humiliation at being caught with his cock out. The one thing that helped was that he couldn’t stave off his orgasm for very long whenever you went to your knees for him. It was like his cock went into overdrive and pounced over the edge like a freight train. He could feel it now, his balls tingling already, drawing closer to his body just from the sheer image of you taking his cock further into your mouth, lovingly and thoroughly laving it in spit and dragging your swollen red lips over it again and again, letting the head move to the back of your mouth and tickle your throat.

You swirled your tongue around his head on the way back, kissing his slit with an open mouth and a lot of tongue and Bucky’s head thumped back into the tiles of the wall.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” he growled low as his hips bucked in your hand, cock seeking your mouth.

“You have to be quiet, baby,” you murmured from below, seemingly completely calm and collected, a teasing lilt in your voice.

You might’ve fooled Bucky into thinking you were unaffected if it wasn’t for the mouth-watering scent of your arousal permeating the air, drifting up to clog Bucky’s nose, adding to the sizzling goosebumps spreading all over his skin. The scent that drove him mad. His very own private aphrodisiac. The air was thick with it now, making his cock throb again as it anticipated the tight, wet heat of your cunt, Bucky’s very favorite place to bury it.

Bucky raked his hand through his hair, laughing helplessly and a bit deliriously, a raspy, thin wheeze.

“Fucking e-easy for you to say, doll. You’re not about to ex-explode,” Bucky choked out in a whisper, tugging on his own hair to try and gain some semblance of control over his body. Explode or implode, he couldn’t really be sure. Having to be quiet like this had him so wound up he feared he’d have a heart attack if his enhanced body would allow it.

“I’m not?” you quietly murmured after a moment, words muffled by the way your mouth moved down his shaft in sloppy kisses while you massaged his cockhead in your fist.

Bucky bit back a moan, the image of you coming from sucking him off filling his mind, picturing your pussy drooling and clenching around nothing, soiling your panties while he soiled your face. Bucky inhaled a broken gasp, grabbing the sink to his left with his metal arm, holding on for dear life as your mouth reached his ballsack, greedily sucking a testicle into your wet, hot mouth and –

“Holy fuck, just like that, please,” Bucky begged shamelessly, eyes clenching shut as his whole frame shuddered. The way you massaged his ball with your tongue had him nearly crumbling to the floor in pleasure.

You hummed in appreciation and/or agreement again, and the light vibrations it sent through his balls had his cock spitting precum into your hand.

“Ah shit, yes,” he groaned, voice coming out raspy and growling and you popped off his ball to grab his sack with your free hand just a bit too tightly. Pain shot up Bucky's body.

“Quiet,” you admonished.

Bucky felt himself go all loopy with the mix of pain and pleasure, mouth hanging open, panting, and his sight slightly hazy, the most mind-blowing sensations wracking around his body. Oh yeah, he might just be a masochist. You were definitely a sadist, and Bucky felt simultaneously exhilarated and completely safe and calm as you manhandled him. He fucking loved it when you took control, when you toyed and teased and used him exactly as you pleased. He never felt more seen or content or well-loved as when you were like this. It was almost overwhelming and at the same time so intoxicating, he couldn’t help but need more.

You returned your lips to his balls, taking the other testicle into your mouth, suckling on it while your hand worked the spit and precum around the purple head of his cock faster and faster.

He was already so close, he bit his lips to keep from groaning and the sink and shelf held tightly in his hands groaned instead from the way his grip tightened as he barreled down towards release.

Your thumb brushed against his frenulum and white-hot pleasure shot up his spine. Fuck, he was going to cum, he was –

Your thumb stroked up and teased the hole on the tip of his dick and the wooden shelf shattered in his grip as he pommeled over the edge. He had no time to warn you, choking on air as he was before cum shot out of his cock and splayed in a stripe over the top of your head. You reacted quickly, popping your mouth off his ball and immediately putting it over the head of his cock, catching the next spurt of cum inside your mouth. The tip of your tongue stroked his frenulum and spitting hole, coaxing the cum to shoot out in pulse after pulse. Bucky’s body shuddered violently, eyes clenching shut and mouth opening to choke on air. Fuck, you always made him cum so fucking hard it was almost painful.

Your hand stroked his shaft, wringing the orgasm out of him. The sink gave a screeching groan as his metal hand bent the steel, and Bucky’s body trembled like a leaf as his orgasm diminished and then mellowed out to a pleasant, numbing buzzing deep in his very bones.

You gently released his cock, still hard and twitching faintly, giving the tip a loving kiss before getting to your feet elegantly. Bucky still panted like a dog when you pulled him by his shirt down to kiss him on his mouth. He eagerly parted his lips to your prodding tongue, and though he found you’d swallowed every bit of cum you’d sucked from him, he could still taste the faint, salty essence of himself on your tongue. It made him hot all over again, his cheeks flushed with heat at the intimate knowledge of what you’d so generously done for him, his chest warming with a satisfied, preening sort of possessiveness. God, you were such a fucking gift and Bucky still questioned what good he had done in his life to deserve you…

Breaking the kiss, you gave Bucky a slow, pleased smile, hand absently reaching down to hold his still hard cock in a gentle, distinctly casual grip. It had Bucky flushing for entirely new reasons. He was almost embarrassed to admit how much he liked you holding him so proprietarily, with such confident ownership, like he was nothing but an extension of your own natural form.

Your eyes caught on something off to the left and then widened comically. Bucky followed your gaze and saw the unnatural, twisted shape of the sink basin he’d clutched while coming. He carefully opened and extracted his vibranium hand from the tangle of molded metal, an almost comical hand print left behind.

“I’m fairly certain this is incriminating evidence,” you teased, not bothering to keep the wicked glee out of your voice.

Bucky shot you a glare, and he knew his cheeks must be blazing red. People might not catch on to the specifics of the situation the sink was ruined in, but they would definitely know it was him (there weren’t many people on the base capable of bending steel with their hands and no one would suspect America’s golden punk Steve before Bucky). Furthermore he would look like a half-animal with little to no self-control. Which, admittedly, he kinda was around you. But still!

You giggled at Bucky’s glare and planted a kiss to his chest before quickly washing your hands in the sink that now looked more like one of those modern art sculptures you insisted on showing Bucky whenever you went into the city. Picking up your phone, you tapped it a couple of times before putting it back in your pocket.

“Nat’s on the case,” you said with an easy-going smile as you looked back up on Bucky. You turned to leave, spotting yourself in the mirror above the sink and quickly wiping some of Bucky’s cum out of your hair and away from the corner of your mouth while Bucky stared, transfixed by it, not really surprised when his cock gave a twitch of interest at the sight. Just when you turned to slip out, Bucky caught you around the wrist and pulled you back against him, nuzzling your neck from behind while pushing his half-hard cock against your tights-clad ass.

“What about you?” he murmured as he kissed the spot just below your jaw he knew was extra sensitive. He could still smell how wet you were, and brought his hand forward and down to cup you between your legs. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him as he felt the heated, damp clothing covering your cunt. Your breath hitched and you grinded down into his hand for a moment before turning your head to whisper against his mouth.

“Meet me at mine? I’m free the rest of the day,” you said, breath tickling Bucky’s cheek and he shivered, cock starting to harden for real again at the proposition. He bit down on your shoulder to keep from growling outright. You were a too fucking perfect.

He nodded against your skin, still collecting himself from the onslaught of lust your invitation brought forward - he was gonna fucking ruin you for this, that was a promise. You nuzzled his cheek and giggled softly, before promptly slipping out of his arms and then the toilet, leaving him to make his own exit of profound embarrassment. Bucky stayed put until Nat came and rescued him God knew how many minutes later, giving him a knowing look that made his face heat like a fucking furnace. He had to keep himself from outright sprinting to your room, all the while plotting all the different ways he was going to make you cum before even slipping his cock inside you. It was gonna be a long night.

Bucky did ruin you, getting back at you quite thoroughly. Even so, Bucky had to duck his flushing face for days after as he passed the handicap toilet with it’s promptly made “out of use”- sign, both out of humiliation of what you’d so obviously done in there, and from the memory of how fucking good it’d felt.

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes x you #Bucky Barnes x f!reader #Bucky Barnes x y/n #The Winter Soldier fanfiction #The Winter Soldier fanfic #The Winter Soldier x reader #The Winter Soldier x you #The Winter Soldier x y/n #The Winter Soldier x f!reader #Ambrosial #Occupied #Bucky Barnes smut #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes smut

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marketfreshfics · 26 days

Text

Like Rabbits | Garreth x f!MC

Header image: @newbienewness ✦ 4327 words ✦ NSFW content (MDNI), aged-up characters, unnamed female MC (no use of y/n), alcohol consumption, admission of feelings/slight proposition, masturbation, spanking, p in v, light dom/sub elements ✦ Plot? What plot? This was honest to god just an excuse to write about Garreth in a rabbit costume ✦ Read it below the cut or on AO3

Easter festivities were a rarity at Hogwarts, yet when an opportunity for revelry arose, the seventh-years seized it with unbridled enthusiasm.

For generations, a pact among students governed the hosting duties on such occasions. The house with the fewest points bore the responsibility (and, by consequence, the aftermath) of throwing the celebration. Slytherin, enduring a dismal streak, found themselves reluctantly poised to shoulder the burden once more, the third time not necessarily the charm. As the soon-to-be graduates gathered amidst their diminished house, they sampled the exotic hors d'oeuvres with subdued chatter, their ranks thin and their spirits somewhat subdued, shooing a curious first year who had risen from bed to visit the loo.

You couldn't help but notice the lacklustre effort put forth, evident in the half-hearted swirling of your drink and the telltale lines of boredom etched upon your brow. Natsai, however, who displayed a downright lackadaisical disinterest, was already poised to depart for the evening. "I do think the Slytherins should dedicate more focus to their house standings to avoid committing another crime such as this party."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips in response, prompting an eye-roll from Imelda as she fished a hair from her drink. "Blame Sallow, we’re still recovering from his little bridge stunt."

The memory evoked a ripple of amusement; the viaduct bridge, unimposing as ever one moment, became a terrifying tangle of devil’s snare that multiplied out of control, requiring several days' worth of Confringo to eradicate.

"I’ll let you know I’m still working through detention for that." Sebastian, the culprit in question, shot a wry grin as his classmates riled with snickers, much to his chagrin. "I was only practicing the Geminio charm for Ronen’s assignment! At his recommendation, mind you, I performed it outside on a plant! I swear, Professor Weasley was just trying to-"

"Did someone mention Weasley?"

Heads swivelled towards the echo of an announced arrival from the staircase, and before questions and curiosities could be posted, Garreth Weasley sauntered down the spiral steps wearing a riot of pink cotton with two lapin ears sprouting from his crown. The seventh-years all hollered and laughed at the sight, save for Leander, who appeared wholly unamused by his fellow Gryffindor’s getup. "The bloody hell, Garreth?"

"What?" He grinned at the tall redhead. "Surely we couldn't have a proper Easter festivity without a rabbit present? Where’s the fun in that?"

Leander's jab echoed into the rim of his goblet before he took a sip. "Is that what’s been stuffed under your bedframe for the past month? You look ridiculous."

Undeterred, Garreth opted instead to, well, air his abundance of comfort. "Yes, but I feel incredible. Quite breezy down here, innit?"

Spiked cider sputtered from Sebastian then, dribbling down his chin. "Are you wearing anything under that poacher’s pelt?"

"Isn’t my smile enough for you, Sallow?"

Yet, despite yourself, your curiosity persisted, occasionally wandering to the vicinity of his lap. Heat rose to your cheeks, unrelated to the effects of alcohol, as you observed the subtle jostle there. It was a wager, you thought, with a flush of embarrassment tinting your cheeks, that Garreth Weasley remained, by all accounts, an honest man.

"What even is this fabric?" Natsai protested, pinching the fold of fluff near her housemate’s bicep. "It appears to be rather flammable."

"Now that would provide ample entertainment for the evening." Ominis chimed in nearby, his attention still fixed on his wand-led readings, seemingly uninterested in the fraternization.

"One at a time, darlings." Garreth, the ever-enthusiastic lion, swung a wicker-weave basket to and fro, reminiscent of some fictional harbinger of joy. Nestled within the dried grass padding were several small bottles of firewhisky, a smattering of cauldron cakes, and various other treats from Honeydukes. "I knew the Slytherins were in desperate need of a Pepperup, so I've come to spread the merriment. Snakes enjoy chocolate frogs, don't they?"

"I thought snakes typically ate rabbits," Imelda quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Garreth didn't miss a beat in his response to her jest. "If I were none the wiser, Reyes, I'd wager you'd like to take a hop around my carrot—"

A muttered expletive signalled the departure of the quidditch captain, leaving behind a chorus of laughter.

You found yourself enthusiastically joining in, relishing the unexpected amusement of the evening. As the crowd dispersed, you approached Garreth to select a treat of your own.

"Happy Easter, beautiful." Garreth's voice dipped low, laced with a suggestive tone that he often employed in your company. "Care to take a seat on the Easter bunny's lap and tell me what you want to find in your basket tomorrow morning?"

"That's Santa Claus," you teased in return.

"My mistake."

The flirtations between Garreth and yourself had become somewhat of a tradition throughout your Hogwarts enrollment, though they never progressed beyond playful banter. Here and now, with alcohol’s nack for unbarring inhibitions, the thought of advancing motions with the cheeky Gryffindor didn’t seem like such an unreachable feat.

"You seem rather warm in that outfit," you observed, noting the slight sheen above his brow.

Garreth chuckled. "It's rather steamy in here, indeed. But not to worry, I can… ventilate if needed." Handing you a small package of honeycomb with a coy smirk, he added, "Here, I think you'll enjoy this one."

Before you could inquire further, Garreth was already moving through the lively crowd, intent on distributing more sweets and cheers. With a huff of amusement, you tore into the package of honeycomb, only to notice some writing on the pleat of the wrapper.

'Do you know what rabbits are known for? I think we could do it better. Tell me when you’re ready, and we can hop off for the night.'

The implications hit you like lightning.

Copious procreation.

Flammable or not, your gaze practically burned through the back of Garreth's fluffy pink ensemble as he disappeared into the throng of students.

---

While the evening bled into night, even with the bolstering presence of libations coursing through your veins, the mere idea of approaching Garreth at the night's end had your insides all tangled. Harmless flirtations aside, this was a full-on proposition. What if the request was meant for someone else?

Then again, he’d deliberately dedicated the honeycomb to you…

---

Somewhere between a refilled goblet and the honeycomb wrapper now tucked into your brazier like some love letter from a sweetheart posted overseas, your prior suspicions of Garreth’s costume being rather warm were confirmed. The redhead retracted an arm inside the suit, while the other unzipped the front to his navel, exposing his bare chest as he tied the sleeves around his hips.

At that moment, propriety yielded to fascination, and any pretense of restraint evaporated as you found yourself captivated by the contours of his soft yet sculpted physique. A twinge of envy stirred within you, brought on by the admiring glances of the two Hufflepuff witches directed his way from the sidelines.

Garreth leaned against the wall, a slight trickle of sweat central to his chest, freckles all flushed from alcohol and flirtations, and seeing the wizard looking entirely dishevelled in his buzzed state did something truly wonderful for your inhibitions. Downing the rest of your pep talk, you crossed the common room, approached him near the enchanted piano, and promptly cupped a hand to his ear.

"I’m ready to… hop off, for the night." You whispered, the heat carried with it curling into the shell of cartilage.

"Yeah?" Garreth’s grin settled into a keen sort of coy, and his gaze went all honed-in and confident, leaning into you with some additional insinuations in those glassy greens of his. "Sure you don’t want to linger a bit longer in this charming mildew?"

His stray dig was not lost on Sebastian, who promptly threw Garreth a pointed warning without threat behind it, bopping an ear of his fuzzy getup.

"Settle down, Sallow," Garreth chortled, relieving his cup of its contents before boldly taking your hand. “We know the snakes always host the most splendid of shindigs.”

A chorus of wolf-whistles heralded your departure, along with someone’s award-winning remark about calling Garreth ‘Thumper.’

Down the adjacent hallway you went, past another couple that was long since lip-locked, and the firewhisky fuzz in you sought the very same. At the end of the hallway that connected to the Slytherin dormitories, coincidentally located at the intersection of friendship and something more, you shoved Garreth against the wall and claimed that magical mouth of his with your own.

For all the smart comments, the witty banter, the years of flirtations that stacked the deck and colored your cheeks, Garreth melted against you, a mess of vulnerability and desire. His body responded eagerly, exploring newfound territories with a hunger born of longing. Eventually, his body caught up to the priority of the situation, wrapping both arms around you with eager motions and traveling to all the locations he’d only dreamt of visiting before.

You were moving then—perhaps another student was evicting you from the open area, nudged aptly to ‘get a room’—but at one point or another, between lips, between moans, and those magical, heated renditions of your name, you found yourselves in a vacant dormitory.

"Who’s room is this?" You pondered breathlessly.

Garreth didn’t seem to give two shits as you all but crashed into the bedroom, nearly toppling an oil lamp, sending it teetering on its pegs as you collided with a bedpost. "Don’t know, don't care."

And that conversation promptly died in between your mouths, somewhere in the tangle of your tongues, as Garreth captured your wrists, holding them above your head as he trailed kisses along your throat. Plush, pink lips planted sweet kisses, while the scuff of end-of-day stubble bit friction in their wake.

"Garreth," You murmured with a shallow draw of breath. "You… you fancy me?"

"Oh, we’re well past fancying, love." His tone dipped back into devious territory, the same place where feelings like desire and longing and, goodness, arousal held court. “I’m onto the craving stages of our little tryst, myself. And right now… I need you.”

In response to his confession, your leg instinctively hitched over his hip, eliciting a low groan as he captured his bottom lip between teeth, a rewarding gesture that spoke volumes without a word.

His grip on your wrists was released, instead seeking the supple curve of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you toward the nearest bed. Settling you down with a sense of urgency, the mattress dipped with his company, and he enveloped you in his embrace, hungering for more of the kisses that fueled his wet dreams.

Garreth pulled back, settling on his knees above you, a pleased grin playing on his lips as he panted, as if suddenly realizing something, perhaps in response to the whisper of a zipper against his bare chest. "Why aren't you naked yet?"

You laughed, mischief set free as you met his gaze. "Excuse me? What about romance? Shouldn't you be wooing me or, I don’t know, engaging in some foreplay?"

The redhead chewed his lip, and it stretched with eagerness. “Of course. Where are my manners? Though I’m still taking all of your clothes off right now, I’ve waited long enough for my Easter present.”

"You don’t exactly give gifts for Easter."

There wasn’t much room left for protest, however, as Garreth all but tore your skirt from your waist, his expression telling of the countless times he’d imagined doing so, perhaps somewhere into his fist or while soaking in the shower. The billow of linen and cotton was discarded with such haste that you thought he’d taken some unspoken offence to the garment, but then his efforts were being spent on tugging your underwear down. A breath born from an expletive ensured you were plenty wet for the introduction.

Verdant irises were engulfed by pupils blown wide, as Garreth drank in the sight of your sex. "God… my imagination could never."

"Like what you see, do you?" You giggled nervously, knees bent and pressed together in honest reflex.

"You have no bloody idea how much I like what I see," he replied with a grin, his gaze tracing every contour of your exposed skin. "...what am I supposed to do now?" It was his turn for a nervous chuckle, palming whatever flesh he made contact with, his demeanour akin to that of a tourist in need of directions.

A soft moan rewarded his efforts. "Whatever you desire... I'm yours for the night, remember?"

And to seal the proverbial deal, you peeled the ruched top up and over your head, unhooked your brazier immediately after, and bit the web of your cheek as you expedited it to the floor, joining the rest of your clothing expenditures.

The honeycomb wrapper fluttered onto your stomach, and Garreth raised an amused brow. "A fond little souvenir, hmm?"

"It’s sentimental, shut up." You purred, quieting his jests with bare chests pressed, and he saw no room for further comment on the matter. Garreth was all mouth then, kissing from lips to chin to lobe as he tutted. "Before we truly make like rabbits and fornicate," He couldn’t help the huff that followed, hearing himself say such a big boy word, "there's something I want to do first."

"Tell me," you urged quietly, fingers tangled in fiery copper curls. "Tell me what you want to do to me..."

"Well, for starters..." He kissed a breadcrumb trail from your neck to your shoulder, "I want to hold you in my arms and get you off."

"Oh god," anticipation drenched your mound and arched your back. "Yes, Garreth, please…"

The sound of your voice sent shivers down his spine, confirming the suspicions he had harboured for months. Curated Gryffindor courage made his heart swell, and his hands trailed down to both hips, maneuvering you around until your back pressed against his chest, playing little and big spoons. Garreth's lips found their way to the curve of your ear, where teeth and lips took turns teasing your lobe. "Comfy?"

"Very much so," you mewled, surrendering to his magnetic presence, your bare back pressed against his chest while you lay on your side. Your hips instinctively moved in synchrony with his, firm against fluffy pink fabric slung low on his waist, and there it is—that stiffness underneath the plush that has your mouth watering and your groin humming. A snort erupted from you at the reminder of the rabbit costume, partially undressed, entirely inappropriate.

"What's that, sweetheart? Gonna share with the class?" He tsked then, and a mischievous grin adorned his face as he felt the delightful pressure of your hips against his own. "Might I… take a dip?"

"Yes," you breathed, already writhing, already wanting, even though his exploration had only just commenced. "Please, Garreth... please..."

And so Garreth learned a lot about himself then; your pleading revealed a new kink. He nuzzled your neck with a mischievous grin, his touch growing more daring as a hand dipped lower; as soon as his fingers gently caressed the carnal crux between your thighs, your neck arched a bit harshly, but that was just fine; you were too absorbed in thoughts of holy fuck, Garreth is rubbing my clit.

The prompt response surprised him, but your brash expression had an undeniable allure. A playful smile appeared on his face as he leaned in and whispered in your ear. "Merlin, this wet for me already? So generous..."

"Can’t believe I’m getting fingered by someone in a bunny costume.”

“Fingered by me in a bunny costume, thank you.” Garreth began sucking over your jugular to elicit a sweet little cry from your mouth, and with the flesh popping audibly, no doubt where a bruise would bloom, he whispered, "You're going to feel splendid around me, beautiful.”

"I want you, Garreth." Grinding your pelvis into both his palm and his dick certainly conveyed as much. It echoed the heat that built over months of minute gestures, sidelong glances, and jokes made at each other’s expense.

"I want you, too." His hand moved with purpose, with three fingers flat against your bud, dipping to explore your intimate depths while those tactful lips brushed the upward jut of your neck. An arm snaked under you and around your middle, palming a breast with a multitasking maneuver that made you squirm.

"Garreth," you whimpered as he caressed your wetness, throwing petrol on the fire within you. You found a rhythm that harmonized with the symphony he composed. "Yes, yes..."

"What is it, baby?" His thumb made love to that throb and swell of nerves, eyes closed in concentration as he leaned closer, exhalation hot on your shoulder.

"I want to come for you," you rasped, testifying that which sought to consume you. "Please… faster…"

Garreth's explorations intensified, and the sound of your slick arousal punctuated each movement. An almost accomplished smile curled his lips, relishing the subtle power he held over you. "Do my fingers feel good?" His voice danced all hushed and seductive, the grate of alcohol and lust on his throat.

You were lost in the whims of his touch, unfolding in his hands. As he quickened the pace of his fingers, your body arched along the river banks of abandon, edging closer to release. "I know something that would feel even better."

He possessed an innate knowledge of the words that would stoke the fire within you. "We’ll get there," he whispered, his breath hot on your racing pulse. "First… come for me."

"Yes," you whimpered, your voice trembling with the impending climax that welled within. His finger movements, an audacious symphony between soaked folds, carried you ever closer. "I'm… I'm… "

As your cries of pleasure came forth with volume, Garreth focused his efforts on your clitoral hood, applying firm pressure as opposed to frantic fingering, intent on prolonging the spasms. At the same time, your body practically sang his praises, and he offered the same in return. "Good girl. Now... are you ready for me?"

You panted, flipping over to face him with a breathless peppering of kisses, flush with gratitude. “Keep calling me a good girl like that, and I will be,” you breathed, gently biting his bottom lip.

He was quick on the draw, bless him. "Good girl.”

Eager motions resumed, bodies practically clinging together. "I want you inside me, Garreth." You squirmed underneath, anticipating his taking. “Let me be your good girl; take me from behind…”

Without hesitation, Garreth shifted you onto your stomach faster than his brain could sort sense of the idea. He grabbed you by the hips, repositioning you on the bed with precision, with his trademark combination of dominance and fondness. You stabilized on elbows, swaying your hips like the comely creature you were.

"Is this what my good girl wants?" he smirked, devouring the gradual parting of your legs, the invitation for him to claim what is rightfully his.

"Yes," you practically pleaded, thrumming to feel the weight of his hands upon your hips, to experience his penetration. "Please, baby... spank me."

He processed the request with his mouth slightly agape in surprise at your words. No one had ever made such a request to him before. "Are you asking me to spank my good girl?"

A coy nod over your shoulder and a bitten lip conveyed your consent. "Yes, please... I'll be good..."

"Say it properly.” The command was all supplicant and alluring, while ravenous hands sampled your inner thighs.

“Please, Garreth…” You whimpered, practically dripping. “Please, spank me.”

"That's better..."

A palm thunderclapped across your rear with unexpected force. Another followed in quick succession, harder than the first, and you cried a simpering symphony. Hips swayed and rutted, knees threatened to buckle, and your back arched as heat rooted deep. "More, please, baby..."

His breath hitched as he took in your heartfelt plea, spurred on by something that mingled and met with testosterone, compelling him to venture into unexplored realms, a captive yearning for sweet freedom. Garreth employed the enthralling control he had over you as he gripped your hips possessively, while his palm branded your buttocks.

"So good," you gasped, and each contact drew forth a garbled moan.

A mischievous smirk played across the lion’s face, as he darkened at the welting consequences of his actions. He prolonged the inevitable. "Oh, is that so?" His hand descended once more, his touch deliberate, unhurried.

"Yes, oh god..." You yearned for a proper fuck, to have your hips hammered, longed to stretch intimately around him. With your bottom lip caught between teeth, you glanced back at Garreth, exuding an eager and willing demeanour. "Baby, please..."

The taut heat of his cock nestled against your rear. Nimble fingers curled into your waist, drawing you closer, and then Garreth discovered the full extent of your arousal. "So wet for me..."

"Only for you, baby..." You pushed your hips back, feeling entirely too empty all of a sudden. "Garreth, I need you inside of me… please, take me... "

"Oh, I'm going to take you, all right."

And then, in a display of vulnerability, he guided you closer with hesitant hands seeking comfort on your thighs. With a shared breath, Garreth aligned himself, gathering warmth and wetness in kind on his cock, and announced his entry with an audible exhale.

Like a reflex, your back arched, writhing serpentine along his length as Garreth bottomed out. He provided experimental thrusts, gradually quickened the pace, and soon you were sucked into a beautiful pattern.

A primal moan parted lips in an unfiltered expression of longing as he delved deeper, as Garreth bucked from behind. Bending down, he pressed an enthusiastic kiss to your nape, grunting with the forceful motion of his fuck. With every thrust, his lips on your neck sent shivers down your spine, and with how desperate he was to hold you close, Garreth clutched you close and brought your torso upright, swaying in rhythm, your bodies making sense of one another’s.

"Oh, baby girl…" The wizard purred into your ear with a strong forearm clamped over your torso and a firm grasp tangled in your hair. He tugged at your strands as he increased his pace, the pricks of pulled nerves eliciting a gasp. His grip across your midsection anchored you to his chest, the tight hold leaving crescent marks of possession into the swell of a breast. A lovely, lewd sound escaped his throat as your hips began to meet his movements, the overwhelming pleasure consuming him entirely.

Your back pressed against his chest, and you contorted in all the right ways. With a head tilted back, your sights set on the heavens, surrendering to the moment. "Fuck me, baby. Hold me tight..."

"I’m not letting go," The words were all breath, the sound caught on the brimming heart stuck in his throat, as he leaned down to bite your neck. "You're... you're mine..."

Your hand instinctively snaked between your legs, choking your clit between index and middle digits. The intense sensation of Garreth's plumbing your depths brought you to the brink, surpassing your wildest expectations. "Oh god, Garreth, I'm... I'm coming...”

A shriek was stifled as you came hard and raw, your abdomen releasing pressure buildup as you rocked against Garreth’s cock like it was your saving grace, coaxing and prolonging your release as you disengaged from body and mind, almost going slack in his arms. The announcement, the tightness of your orgasm propelled him fuck to his full potential, chorused by your cries. He teetered on the brink, his equilibrium delicately balanced as he held onto your hip, thrusting deeper inside with each exhalation, his movements deliberate and steadfast.

The bed protested audibly as you rocked on your knees, punctuating your passionate connection. You coaxed him with a voice still raw and made all the more ragged from your climax. "Come, baby…"

Your words were the catalyst of his coming. Garreth buried his face into the back of your neck, breathing ragged and erratic as the boundless excitement that you built within him finally burst forth in a breathtaking culmination. He surrendered to an overwhelming release, spilling himself deep within.

Collapsing forward, he pressed you into the bed, his body weight a comforting presence upon you. You let out a sound of satisfaction as he settled on your back, your inner thighs slick with evidence of your shared release. An inward sigh of fulfillment escapes you while you tilt to plant a kiss on his cheek. "God, that was even better than the first."

"You’ve rendered me boneless, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder. “I’m utterly spent.”

You couldn't help letting out a soft chuckle; your fingers naturally entwined with his as you both shifted onto your sides. When your eyes met, they reflected a sense of contentment and gratification. "Me too," you admitted, your voice soothing in the quiet aftermath. "Spent and drained..."

Garreth's hand tightened around yours, conveying tenderness. His lips curled into a gentle smile, a sparkle of admiration flickering in his gaze. Compelled by magnetism, you gravitated close, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. "Stay," you murmured, longing to extend this moment of closeness.

The chuckle he responded with caught you off guard until you realized that you hadn’t the foggiest idea whose bed you just expressed your feelings in. "Ah, I see," you laughed, begrudgingly reaching for your clothes.

As you tugged each article of clothing on, Garreth adjusted the rabbit costume back into place, and you devolved into a fit of giggles. “Did you even take off that ridiculous get-up?”

“Listen, love,” Garreth smirked, claiming your chin with impish intent. “I just fucked the most beautiful woman in our year wearing this. I won't soon be criticizing its charm.”

You leaned closer to kiss him, as breathless as he made you feel. “Fair enough.”

#garreth weasley x reader #hogwarts legacy #garreth weasley smut #garreth weasley fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hl fanfic #garreth x mc #sebastian sallow #natsai onai #ominis gaunt #leander prewett

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