Homecoming? Guess Not.

I need more Wally x Reader immediately

18+

wally clark that’s a little very obsessed with his girlfriend. wally clark that gives off pure golden retriever energy until someone looks at you a few seconds too long and suddenly he’s all over you, gripping your waist from behind and burying his face in your neck. wally clark that can’t keep his hands off you at the best of times, his hands finding their home on your hips in particular or the back pocket of your jeans.

wally clark that gazes down at you with a grin when you’re trapped between him and the mattress, that goddamn gold chain dangling in front of your face. “you look so fucking pretty under me, baby”. wally clark that’s like a completely different man behind the safety of a locked bedroom door, fingers leaving marks on your waist from his tight grip, mouth staining any part of you he can reach a dark purple. “what’re you gonna tell your friends when they ask what happened?” “gonna say it was you” “you’re fucking right you will, baby”

I need 💨 🍆. IMMEDIATELY

omggg i need rafe x stoner gf who comes home high nd needy🙂‍↔️

lamy's notes: i hope you like it!!

the door creaks open, and you stumble inside, still wrapped in the hazy warmth of your high. the world feels softer, edges blurred, your skin tingling like it’s alive, aware of every sensation. your laugh is low, quiet, spilling out like a lazy stream as you toe off your sneakers.

“rafe?” your voice is sing-song, a little slurred, dripping with sweetness as you call for him.

he appears from the kitchen, his frame backlit by the soft glow of the under-cabinet lights. arms crossed, his sharp features pull into a knowing smirk the moment he sees you swaying slightly, your eyes heavy-lidded and glassy.

“jesus,” he mutters, but there’s no judgment in his voice, only amusement—and something darker, something that sharpens when he looks at you like this. “how high are you?”

“mmm… like… a lot,” you admit, giggling as you close the distance between you, your fingers reaching for him instinctively. “but, baby… you have no idea how good i feel.”

you’re in his space now, your hands sliding up his chest, your body leaning into his. rafe’s arms come around you almost reflexively, steadying you as you nuzzle into his neck. you’re warm and soft against him, and your scent—a mix of whatever you’d been smoking and the faint sweetness of your perfume—wraps around him, intoxicating in its own way.

“i missed you,” you mumble, your lips brushing his skin with every word. “like… so much.”

“you were gone for, what, two hours?” he teases, though his voice drops, deepening as his hands settle on your hips. you’re swaying slightly, and he keeps you anchored, his thumbs stroking small circles into the fabric of your leggings.

“felt like forever,” you counter, pulling back just enough to look at him. your eyes meet his, and there’s a spark of mischief in your gaze that makes his grip on your hips tighten. “i was just sitting there, thinking about you. about us.”

he quirks an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “yeah? and what were you thinking?”

“you wanna know?” you ask, your voice dropping, playful and suggestive. your fingers toy with the hem of his t-shirt, slipping underneath to brush against his warm skin.

“tell me,” he says, and there’s an edge to his tone now, his patience fraying.

“i was thinking,” you start, dragging your nails lightly up his stomach, “about how good you feel. how good you make me feel.” your lips curve into a slow, lazy smile, your hands wandering higher. “and how much i want you right now.”

he exhales sharply, his hands flexing on your hips as he fights for control. “you’re unbelievable,” he says, his voice low, thick with amusement and want.

“mmm,” you hum, leaning up to kiss him, slow and teasing, your lips brushing his but never quite pressing fully. “please, rafe… i’ve been so good.”

“good, huh?” he asks, his voice dipping lower as he crowds you against the wall, his body pressing into yours. his knee nudges between your thighs, and you gasp softly, the sensation sending a fresh wave of heat through your already buzzing body. “you think you deserve a reward for coming home stoned out of your mind and throwing yourself at me?”

“yes,” you answer without hesitation, your lips brushing his jaw. “please?”

he groans, low and guttural, before capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s anything but teasing. it’s hot, demanding, his hands sliding lower to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him. you whimper into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair, your body arching into his as the room spins pleasantly around you.

“bed,” he mutters against your lips, his voice rough. “now.”

you’re grinning as he lifts you, your legs wrapping around his waist, your laughter mingling with his groan as he carries you down the hallway.

he lays you down gently, but the weight of his body pressing into yours makes your breath catch. his mouth is everywhere—on your neck, your collarbone, the curve of your shoulder—leaving a trail of heat that has you squirming beneath him. his hands are no less insistent, tugging your shirt up and over your head before palming your breasts through your bra.

“you’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs, his voice muffled as his lips drag lower, over the swell of your chest, down your stomach. he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down slowly, savoring every inch of skin he reveals.

“rafe,” you breathe, your voice shaky, needy.

“i know, baby,” he says, his eyes dark as they flick up to meet yours. “gonna take care of you. promise.”

his mouth moves lower, and when his tongue flicks over your clit, your back arches off the bed, a soft cry spilling from your lips. he hums against you, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through your body as he works you with a precision that leaves you breathless. his hands grip your thighs, keeping you open for him, his movements relentless as he draws moan after moan from your lips.

when you’re trembling beneath him, teetering on the edge, he pulls back, his lips glistening, his smirk downright sinful. “not yet,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

he rises, shedding his shirt, his jeans, until he’s bare before you, all lean muscle and raw intensity. he covers your body with his, his hand sliding between your thighs, his fingers teasing, testing, until you’re writhing against him, desperate for more.

“rafe, please,” you beg, your nails digging into his shoulders.

he doesn’t make you wait. he pushes inside slowly, his forehead dropping to yours as he lets out a guttural groan. the stretch is exquisite, every inch of him filling you, making you gasp. he stills, giving you a moment to adjust, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s surprisingly tender.

“you okay?” he asks, his voice rough, strained.

“yes,” you whisper, your hands tangling in his hair. “please, move.”

he does, starting slow, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one sending a wave of pleasure crashing over you. his name falls from your lips like a prayer, and he answers with your own, his voice low and wrecked as he murmurs how good you feel, how perfect you are.

“fuck, baby,” he groans, his voice tight, breath hitching with every roll of his hips. “you feel so fucking amazing. taking me so well.”

as his pace quickens, the room fills with the sound of your shared breaths, your moans, the soft slap of skin against skin. every nerve in your body is on fire, the intensity building with every thrust until you’re shattering beneath him, crying out his name as you fall apart.

“that’s it,” he growls, his voice thick with need. “let go for me, baby. wanna feel you.”

he follows seconds later, his release a low groan against your neck as he buries himself deep, his body trembling above yours.

for a moment, neither of you move, the only sound your ragged breathing. then he shifts, rolling to the side and pulling you with him, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

“you’re trouble, you know that?” he mutters, his lips pressing to your temple.

“but you love me,” you tease, your voice soft, drowsy.

he chuckles, his hold on you tightening. “yeah,” he says, his voice low, tender. “i really fucking do.”

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Why does mean Wally turn me on??? 🚩

Poison

Plot: it should’ve been known that just because you slept with him, doesn’t mean anything changes. And you can’t help but fall for his words every time

Pairings: asshole!Wally Clark x loner!fem!reader, alive!wally x alive!reader

warning(s): SMUTT!!!! Heavy angst at the end, reader gets used for sex, semi-public sex, p in v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT), no happy end, wally bullies the reader, wally is an absolute asshole unless he’s fucking the reader, fingering, degrading, tbh this is shit, NOT PROFREAD

a/n: YALL. okay so i recently binged Hazbin Hotel and this smut is based on a song from the show called Poison. I’m obsessed with it! Anyways. Lets get TO IT!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the sound of the bell snaps you out of your day dream, making you look up from your notepad. Students are standing and making their way out of the classroom to hurry to their next class, leaving you by yourself. As you begin to pack your things you noticed a folded piece of paper tossed between the pages of your notepad. You grab it gently and open it, immediately recognizing Wally’s sloppy handwriting.

“Meet me in the janitors closet during our free period ;)”

you roll your eyes and crumple the paper up, tossing it into the trashcan as you walk out of the already empty classroom. You wouldn’t fall for his shit this time. The last time you did your heart got torn into shreds. But at the same time…god you’ve never had an orgasm like the one he gave you. It should’ve been a one time thing, well no, it shouldn’t have happened at all. You only went to his house to help him out with homework like he had requested and one thing led to another and you were pressed face down into his mattress as he ruined your insides.

the second time it happened? Well, honestly that was your own mistake. It was after school and you wanted to find a place to smoke in peace, so you wandered to the football field. Low and behold there he was, running laps by himself. In your defense you did try and leave but he’s a football player for crying out loud. He caught up quick and stopped you, starting to tease you about your habits. And one thing turned into another and you were riding him on the bleachers with your skirt bunched at your waist.

you hated him and he hated you but fuck his dick game was too good. But you wouldn’t let it happen again, especially when you realized about a week ago you like the football player. When you fully figured it out you avoided seeing like like he was a solar eclipse. Which made him pissed off, so when he noticed you spaced out in class he thought it the best time to give you the note.

before you could even fully wander down the hallway, you were being pulled into a small space. And when the chemicals hit your nose you knew exactly where you were. You ripped your arm from the quarter backs grasp and glared up at him.

“what the fuck Wally,” you snapped and stepped back to the door. Effectively, he blocked you in and pressed himself to you, against the door. You knew if you tried to leave you’d out the both fo you, and you’d hate to have everyone mock you

“you’ve been avoiding me, asshole, what the fuck,” he sneered and leaned down to be closer. The closer he got the more his scent encapsulated your sense. Fuck he smelt so nice.

“no shit, i fuckin’ hate your guts,” you sneered back and glared up at him. The only response you got was a snicker from him.

“nah, the only guts in this equation are yours while i’m fucking ruining them,” he whispered and gently placed his lips to your neck. You shiver and try to flinch away but his hand in your hair stops you from moving. You try to free your poor hair from his grasp but he grips harder and glares down at you.

“admit it, you love when i dick you down. You’re a fucking whore who loves to get pushed around by the star football player. Which isn’t a surprise, seeing how much of a freak you are.”

you should’ve been upset by his words but all you felt was arousal, that familiar hear between your legs. Why was this turning you on so much? Without too much thought behind it, you swung your arm back a bit and up. With a loud smack, your hand lands on his cheek, a harsh slap erupted in the small space. His face turned to the side from the impact, but that wasn’t what deterred you. The smirk rising to his lips made you lean back a bit in surprise and then the sudden impact on your chest settled in as he spun you around. With a harsh push, he’s pinning you to your front against the door, arms locked behind your back.

you hiss at the contact and try to snap at him but are cut off by the harsh yank from your hair along with the smack that landed on your ass. You let out a yelp and squeeze your eyes shut at the harsh sting hits you like bricks. And within seconds you’re feeling the cold air hit your already soaked cunt. He’s all but careful as he shoves his ring and middle finger into your hot cunt, making you moan out. His free hand is slapping over your mouth as he pumps his fingers in and out of your aching cunt at an aggressive speed, curling them every now and then to hit that perfect spot inside of you.

with his hand muffling your moans, you let them fly. Small pants are given from the dark haired boy as he pressed his hard cock against your plush ass that still stung from his assault earlier. Your eyes roll a bit from the harsh pace, already feeling a small knot build in your gut but it was easily ruined as he pulled his fingers out abruptly. You wanted to cry out in protest but the sound of his belt being undone made your heart leap in excitement.

He’s grabbing your hips and pulling them back a bit so your ass is out more for him. You jump a bit as you feel his tip prod at your entrance, gathering whatever wetness he could before he pressed into you. The stretch always felt a bit tight but you knew you’d be feeling like heaven in moments.

but he sat for a second, stuffed to the hilt inside of you. You turn your head a bit to look back at him but he grabs your hair and forces you to look away from him. Your confusion is dissolved as he starts to pull out only to slam back into you. You bite down on your lip to keep your cries in, loving the feel of his dick deep inside of you. His pace is all but sweet as he starts to fuck into you like a dog in rut. The soft groans coming from him were like heaven, along with the loud sounds of your squelching cunt and his balls slapping against your clit and his pelvis smacking into your ass.

you try and reach back to hold onto some part of him but he quickly slaps your hand away, keeping his hand in your hair to keep your head stabilized. And for some reason you feel like he’s trying to keep himself distant from you. After he had just bitched about you avoiding him as well.

your thoughts are interrupted as you felt that knot in your lower abdomen build up again. You whimpered softly and reached down between your legs, rubbing your clit quickly to help. Wally’s hips keep pistoning into you, trying to chase his own high as well. Within a few more thrusts he’s shooting his cum deep inside of you, painting your walls that milky white color. His finish triggered yours making you spasm a bit, feeling your liquid leak down his dick and your own thighs. You were thankful you were wearing a skirt, clean up would be easy.

after taking a little breather you started to get yourself together. You turn your eyes up to the boy, seeing his eyes clouded with thought. You stepped closer only to be pushed back, “we can’t do this again. If people found out i was fucking you my reputation would be ruined. Just stay the fuck away from me from now on, freak.”

with that, he’s moving around you and darting out or the closet, leaving you alone. You’d fallen for it again, and this time his poison hit its mark leaving you with a broken heart.

This just does something to me 🤤🤤🤤

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating. miscommunication. public sex. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - M

M is for misunderstandings, and miscommunication, and misleading rumors that bring Wally to his knees while he's in his football kit, 20 minutes before the game. Baby, I swear and I know it's fucked up, but you have to believe me because you DO. Whoever told you that he sexed Janet up at Brandon's Homecoming Game Eve party fucking lied. The notion makes Wally queasy and you're not listening, Jesus, baby, stop, just listen! But you're too busy hurting, putting distance between you and Wally like he's fucking contagious, and he doesn't know what else to do.

He grabs you by the shoulders, spins you around, and pins you against the wall with his body, arms fastened around you like boa constriction. You push and shove and loose a muffled scream against his chest. He doesn't budge. Kisses your head, temple, the curve of your jaw, "Stop, baby, please. Please, listen to me." A kiss to the corner of your mouth when you finally submit, pliant in his arms, huffing and hateful and oh so magnificent in your anger.

One hand glides down your spine, the other cradles your face, his eyes begging you to hear him out, "It's not true, sweet girl." He promises, "I wouldn't do that to you. I'd never do. that. to you." And he really fucking wouldn't. To Janet? Yeah, they aren't a thing; not how it matters. But you? It would have to mean life or death, and even then...

You and he are behind the stadium, the back area used by concessions, recycle on one side, trash on the other, hidden from view. Wally lets go. You slump against the wall, expression closed and ears open. He can't play until you smile. Until he knows you're his again. Then bench-rider Matt pops his head out of the security door to tell Wally t-minus too few minutes before he has to hit the field.

"Get lost."

"But—"

"Get fucking lost, Wilson!"

Matt gets fucking lost, off to assure Coach that his MVP will be ready for kickoff. Wally turns his attention right back to you, hands on your neck, thumbs stroking your cheeks, trying to make you look at him. When he kisses you, you fight back with teeth, but at least you respond. Fire and passion so strong that all of Wally's blood jets south and his vision is more inkspots than reality. He shackles one of your wrists in his big hand, then the other. Over your head on the wall as he fucks your mouth with his tongue.

"You gotta believe me, baby," He urges, voice rough and low, taking your wrists in one hand so he can grope under your Devils' blue dress with the other. God, you'd look good in his letterman. A package so pretty he'd have to unwrap you on sight. A smirk against your lips when his fingers rub your pussy through your panties from behind. Soaked. "You like it when I'm rough with you, don't you, baby girl?" He kisses you again. Hard. Nips your lip sharp enough to break the delicate skin.

The moan he swallows makes him throb.

"You didn't really believe it did you? You just wanted to pick a fight...naughty girl." He coos, rich and dark and so hard he thinks he might pass out. "You wanted to get me like this..." He grinds his hips against you, that just-right pressure making his eyes roll back. "Fuck, baby, all you had to do was ask." His fingers keep playing with your pussy, rubbing and teasing, sneaking under thin fabric to feel that sweet velvety heat he can't wait any longer to get around his cock.

In one coarse move, Wally turns you, bends you, ass up, hands on the wall, and a deep curve in your back. He takes a moment to admire you, his fingers digging into your lovehandles. Too bad he doesn't have time to tease you, tugs your panties down to your knees, his pants shoved down to his thighs, hissing when the cool air hits sensitive flesh.

"Gonna make a mess of you baby." He vows and he does, fucks you hard and unforgiving against the stadium wall. Slams into you over and over, angling himself in a way he knows will hit your g-spot every time. On every beat of his hips, you choke, moan, whimper, beg for mercy or more, and he growls in response, moves faster, harder until, fuck, baby, I'm gonna—

Just as it starts, he pulls out, rubs his cockhead through your folds, paints your pussy lips with his come as he strokes himself stupid. But he's not done yet. Before you can breathe, he plunges the fingers of one hand inside you, the fingers of the other on your clit, furious and savage, "That's it, baby girl." He feels you clench, spasm, and then you shout his name as you squirt all over his hand.

Your panties are ruined, used to mop up the mess Wally made as it trickled down the inside of your legs. He smirks at you, hungry, the look in his eyes a guarantee that you're not sleeping at home tonight. You're not sleeping at all.

He takes your bunched up panties from you when you try to throw them in the dumpster, "Nuh-uh, sweet girl, these'll be my lucky charm," and he flagrantly shoves them inside his jockstrap, discreet under the cup, and leaves you to join his team with a deep, hungry kiss and a slap on the ass.

It's the best damn game Wally has ever played.

27-0.

Coach claps his back and demands that Wally do whatever pre-game ritual he did today for the rest of time and Wally's only too happy to oblige. His eyes find you easily in the stands, dress pulled down as far as you could get it, and a feral grin curls his lips. After all, if there's one thing you don't fuck with, it's athletic superstition.

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Blurb:

Just my brain being turned on by hands. 🤷‍♀️

Eddie Munson loves teasing. It comes second nature to him.

He’d slip his hand around your throat anytime he was standing behind you. Giving it a tight squeeze then dragging his palm down your breast before settling on your hips.

He’d pretend his rings got caught in your hair to hear the little whine escape you when he pulled it.

He’d touch you in the gentlest ways yet so heated. Running his fingers in circles up your calf or down your spine.

He wanted you begging for his attention, his hands, his mouth, his cock.

"what that mouth do" gnaw and chew and munch and nibble and chomp and bite u

*chefs kiss*

Thighs obsession

Pairing: Rafe cameron x girlfriend

Warnings: rafe being obsessed with his girls thighs

Summary: rafe is obsessed with your thighs and he has to touch them and kisse them at all given time to do so

────୨ৎ────

Rafe Cameron had an obsession—an all-consuming, insatiable fixation on his girlfriend’s thighs.

It wasn’t just a casual appreciation, not a passing glance or an occasional touch. No, it was something deeper, something primal. Rafe needed to have his hands on them, his mouth on them, his entire body pressed against them whenever he got the chance. It wasn’t just about the way they looked—though he’d be the first to say they were perfect. It was the way they felt beneath his touch, how soft they were, how warm they got when he left his mark.

And he made sure to do that often.

1. Movie Nights

It started innocently enough. At least, that’s what she told herself. She and Rafe were curled up on the couch, a random movie playing, one she’d barely been able to focus on for the past thirty minutes because Rafe’s head was resting comfortably on her lap.

His fingers traced absent patterns along the inside of her thigh, his touch featherlight, teasing. He wasn’t even watching the screen, completely enthralled with her instead. Every so often, he’d press a slow, open-mouthed kiss against the bare skin of her thighs, his lips dragging lazily over them.

“You’re not watching the movie,” she murmured, fingers threading through his hair.

“Don’t need to,” Rafe mumbled against her skin, his voice thick with something heavy. “Got a better view right here.”

He turned his head, biting down just enough to make her gasp. She could already feel the bruise forming, another mark he’d be satisfied to see when she changed later.

2. The Club

Rafe was possessive. Everyone knew that. And it became glaringly obvious whenever they were out in public.

She had worn a dress that night, one that barely skimmed mid-thigh, and Rafe had not been pleased. Not because he didn’t love the way she looked in it—God, he did—but because it meant everyone else would see what was his.

So he made sure to remind her.

The club was packed, loud, full of bodies pressed together, but Rafe didn’t care about any of them. His focus was on her, on the way she was sitting in their booth, one leg crossed over the other. His hand found its way to her knee, slowly dragging up her thigh, squeezing, kneading, making sure she felt every bit of his frustration.

“You like making me crazy, don’t you?” he muttered in her ear, lips brushing the sensitive spot below it.

She shivered but didn’t answer, only smirking when he sinked on his knees pressing a lingering kiss against her thigh.

3. Waking Up

Mornings with Rafe were dangerous.

Mostly because he was impossible to get out of bed, especially when his favorite pillow wasn’t the one on the bed but rather her thighs.

She had woken up to find him sprawled across her legs, arms wrapped around them, face pressed against her bare skin. His breathing was slow, steady, but as soon as she moved, his grip tightened.

“Stay,” he murmured sleepily, nuzzling against her.

“Rafe, we have to get up.”

“Don’t care.”

She sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, and that was when he finally looked up at her, a lazy smirk on his lips. “Unless you want to give me another reason to stay in bed…”

His teeth grazed the inside of her thigh, and she sucked in a breath.

Yeah, they weren’t getting up anytime soon.

4. Arguments and Apologies

Fighting with Rafe was inevitable. He had a temper, a stubbornness that rivaled hers, and sometimes things got heated.

But his apologies? They were just as intense.

He had her pinned against the wall, frustration still burning in his eyes, but his lips were on her thighs, moving over every inch of bare skin. His hands gripped her waist, holding her steady as he pressed kiss after kiss, soothing over the marks his earlier grip had left.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he murmured against her skin, nipping at her thigh just enough to make her whimper.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging slightly, and he groaned, looking up at her with darkened eyes. “You love it,” he accused.

She did.

And she loved him, thigh obsession and all.

Rafe Cameron was relentless, but when it came to her thighs, he was absolutely insatiable.

Yes Daddy 🥰

rafe having a breeding kink? Use of mama and praises?

you had spent the afternoon at your aunt’s house, watching her baby gurgle and coo in rafe’s arms. it was almost surreal, the way he softened, the way his rough hands cradled the tiny bundle so carefully. he had looked at you then, something unreadable in his blue eyes, something dark and hungry lurking beneath the tenderness.

"you’d look so fucking good carrying my baby, y/n" he had murmured, just low enough for only you to hear, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. the words had sent a shiver down your spine, pooling heat low in your stomach. rafe had spent the rest of the visit teasing you with lingering touches, whispered promises, his fingers grazing the curve of your belly as if he was already imagining it round and full.

by the time you got home, the tension was unbearable.

rafe leans in, his breath hot against your ear, a wicked smirk playing at his lips. "you know what i want, don’t you?" his voice is thick with lust, dripping with that deep, possessive hunger that sets your skin on fire. his hands, rough and commanding, slide down your waist, gripping, kneading, holding you in place as if daring you to run. not that you would.

"mmm, fuck—look at you," he groans, his fingers spreading over your stomach, possessively pressing, as if he’s already claiming you from the inside out. "gonna put a baby in you. gonna watch you swell with me—fuckin’ mine."

the heat pooling between your thighs turns molten, a slow, sinful ache as he grinds against you, his cock hard and thick, straining against the fabric separating you. his mouth finds your throat, lips dragging, sucking, teeth grazing just enough to send a delicious shiver down your spine. "gonna make you take it. gonna fuck you so deep, there won’t be a doubt who you belong to."

your whimper is met with a low chuckle, rafe’s hands gripping your hips tight, pulling you flush against him. "say it, baby. tell me who’s gonna fill you up."

your voice barely comes out, breathless, needy. "you, rafe."

"that’s right, mama. only me."

he lifts you with ease, pinning you beneath him, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his body heat searing into yours. his fingers trail between your thighs, teasing, playing, spreading you open like his own personal feast. "already so wet for me. fuckin’ perfect."

he doesn’t rush. no, rafe likes to make you desperate. likes to watch you writhe, to hear you beg. his fingers slip inside, slow and deliberate, his thumb brushing over your clit just enough to make you shudder. "gotta make sure you’re ready, mama. need you to take every inch. need you dripping."

your back arches, hands clawing at his shoulders, at his back, anywhere you can hold onto as he builds you up with those wicked hands, his lips ghosting filthy praises against your skin. "such a good girl. so fuckin’ perfect for me. gonna take me so well, aren’t you?"

all you can do is nod, desperate, mind hazy with pleasure as he works you open, stretching you, preparing you. when he finally lines himself up, you’re already trembling, already teetering on the edge of something devastating. he watches you, eyes dark, lips parted as he presses in, inch by inch, filling you, stretching you, claiming you exactly the way he promised.

a strangled moan leaves your lips, and rafe groans in response, his hands gripping your thighs, pushing them open wider. "fuck—yes, mhm. that’s it. take it. take every fucking inch."

he moves slow at first, letting you feel every thick drag, every pulse of him inside you. his lips brush against your temple, voice thick with something dangerous. "gonna fuck my baby into you. gonna keep you so full, so perfect."

and then he snaps his hips, thrusting deep, raw, possessive. the pleasure is overwhelming, dizzying, white-hot and consuming as he pounds into you, as he takes you like he owns you. his praises mix with filthy promises, his hands gripping, his body relentless. "you want a baby, mama? gonna keep you like this forever. filled up. used up. marked."

you’re already falling apart beneath him, but rafe isn’t finished. not until he’s buried so deep you feel him for days. not until he’s sure you’re ruined for anyone else. and as he presses a hand against your stomach, feeling himself inside you, he grins, wicked and proud.

"gonna put a baby in you. and there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it."

notes: crossing my fingers that this wasn't cringy, i hope you liked it! 🤍

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry

🤤

Someone Who Needs Me | Older!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Eddie’s been working really hard and you want to show him how much you appreciate everything he does.

WC: ~1.6k

Warnings: fluff, smut, age gap (Eddie’s in 40s and R’s in 20s), mixed POV, possessive!Eddie, sexist co-workers, swearing, mention of piv sex, one teasing use of “daddy”, brief oral m!receiving. Not much plot these guys are just in love and horny for each other idk 18+ ONLY MDNI

This is a second part to Sweet Like Sugar

When you walked into the kitchen and saw Eddie’s lunch box still sitting on the counter, you sighed and gave a fond shake of your head.

Poor, Eddie.

Between picking up extra hours at the garage and working to repair your water-damaged trailer, he’d been trying to burn the candle at both ends and as a result was starting to get a little forgetful.

A few days earlier you’d found his wallet tucked behind the celery in the fridge, and he kept misplacing his rings and the keys to his car.

He laughed it off by saying it was just his “old age” finally catching up to him, but you knew the truth was that he was pushing himself too hard.

You were staying with Eddie until he could get your trailer back into livable condition, but he was in no rush to finish — he liked having you around. The man who, for years, had relished in his solitude now found himself hooked on domestic bliss and the truth was, he never wanted to be alone again.

He loved seeing your pretty face every evening when he got home from his shift at the garage — even though the days were long, your sweet kisses kept him going.

He loved the sound of your voice, the light in your eyes and the soft perfume that you wore; how your scent filled his home and lingered in his sheets. Every morning when he pulled your warm body close in the early hours before dawn, he wondered to himself how he’d ended up with an angel like you.

And now that you were his, he never wanted to let you go.

As soon as your trailer was repaired, he planned to suggest that you put it up for sale and move into his place with him for good. He knew it was fast, but at his age he didn’t see the point in playing games — he just hoped his intentions wouldn’t scare you away.

He needn’t have been worried. You were all in.

Living with Eddie was the first time in your life you had ever felt truly safe and appreciated, and you couldn’t imagine going back to dating the immature guys your age. None of them could ever hold a candle to Eddie — they couldn’t even hold a match. He was the man of your dreams and took such good care of you.

You had an appointment that afternoon across town so you decided to leave a little early and drop Eddie’s lunch off at the garage on your way. It wasn’t much, but it was the least you could do to show him that you cared.

In your eyes, he deserved to be treated like a king.

When you pulled up outside the garage, you felt a little thrill of excitement. You loved visiting Eddie at work.

He always looked so good with his silver-flecked curls tied back and his big hands darkened with grease — for some reason the scent of motor oil on his skin really got you going.

As you walked into the garage you were greeted by a chorus of hoots and whistles courtesy of the mechanics eyeing you in your daisy dukes. You just rolled your eyes and ignored their stares as you looked around for Eddie, but you didn’t spot your boyfriend right away.

“Hey Ed, yer girl’s here,” someone hollered and Eddie rolled out from under a car, then sat up on the creeper and grabbed a rag to wipe his hands.

He’d tied a bandana around his head to keep loose strands of hair out of his face, and he looked so good that it made your stomach flutter.

“You forgot your lunch, so I thought I’d bring it by,” you said as he took the tin from your hands, then gave you a shy dimpled grin before his eyes dipped to the floor.

He still wasn’t used to having someone worry over him, and at times it left him feeling a little flustered.

“I swear I’d forget my fuckin’ head. Thanks sweetheart, you’re so good to me.”

He leaned in to kiss you on the cheek and your face started to get warm. Even after being together for months he always had the same effect on you, and you had to suppress the overwhelming urge to jump him in his greasy coveralls.

“It’s the least I can do. You work so hard.” You grabbed the material at his waist and pulled him close so you could press your glossy lips to his. You parted your mouth as you tilted your head, forgetting where you were for just a second and letting the kiss linger a bit too long for in public.

But Eddie didn’t care who was watching.

He grabbed ahold of your hips and squeezed them tight as he leaned into the embrace, letting his tongue caress yours and groaning against your lips. He wasn’t oblivious. He’d heard the obnoxious whistles and catcalls from before and had no qualms about showing those guys that you were his.

He could feel himself getting hard and wondered if maybe you’d be up for a quickie outside in his car that was parked in its usual secluded spot behind the garage. You’d visited a few times before on his lunch breaks, bouncing on his dick in the crowded backseat while he buried his face in your cleavage and sucked on your perfect tits.

But you pulled away a few seconds later and busied yourself with straightening his collar, derailing his horny train of thought.

“I’d better get going or I’ll be late for my appointment,” you said, giving him a little wink. “I’m heading over to the spa this afternoon for the usual.”

“Yeah?” He gave you a playful raise of his eyebrows and his cheeks flushed a little pink as he leaned in close so no one else could hear. “You need some money? Maybe get them to do that thing I like?”

Eddie loved it when you got your bush waxed in the shape of a landing strip just like the girls in the porno mags he used to read as a younger man. He also loved any opportunity he could find to spoil you.

You held out an upturned palm and he immediately dropped his gaze to the long, painted nails that gripped his shoulders every night in bed; those sharp pink tips that dug so deliciously into the soft flesh of his ass when he was buried inside you, urging him even deeper.

He walked over to where his jacket was hung on its hook and took a couple twenties out of the pocket, then handed them to you along with a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you, daddy,” you whispered quiet enough that only he could hear, and his cock twitched at the sound of the name that was meant for just for the two of you.

“Shit—baby, you can’t just say that here,” he stumbled as your glossy lips curled into a sly smile.

“Oops, sorry.” You shrugged, feigning innocence as you turned to walk away. “I’ll see you at home later, okay?”

One of the guys let out another low whistle as you swayed your hips on the walk back to your car and you smiled to yourself when you overheard Eddie’s gruff final warning.

“You’d better watch yourself, Derek.”

It was Friday evening, so when quitting time rolled around the guys asked Eddie if he wanted to join them at the bar, but he said no. He knew you were waiting for him at home.

The men all jeered and got their digs in about how Eddie was pussy whipped, but he didn’t give a shit. He knew they’d give anything for a chance to go home to you.

When he walked up the creaky steps to the trailer, he could hear the faint sound of you singing in the kitchen and when he opened the door he was met with the pleasant aroma of the food you had prepared.

He sat down at the kitchen table to untie his boots and you walked over to greet him, wearing his favorite frilly apron and a smile.

“Smells good in here, whatcha cooking?” He stood up and gave you a teasing wink. “You know if you keep this up, you’re going to spoil me.”

“I’m making your favorite,” you purred, stepping close and running your newly manicured nails down his coverall covered chest. “Why don’t you go get showered while I finish up?”

“Good idea. I’m so fuckin’ stiff, I can barely move.” He grimaced as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

You furrowed your brow at the way he groaned with each bend of his aching muscles. He’d been working much too hard.

“Do you need me to help?” you offered sweetly, your wide eyes brimming with concern. “Dinner’s pretty much finished. I can just keep it warm.”

He nodded and a lazy smile stretched across his face as he watched you reach behind your back to pull loose the bow in your cute little apron.

“Yeah, baby. I’m gonna need some help.”

And you helped him, down on your knees under the warm running water, your fresh nails gripping his muscular thighs as he rested his back against the tile shower wall.

His breath came out ragged as he carded a hand through wet curls to push them out of his face, while using his other hand to guide your head up and down his slick cock.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he mumbled, the soft praise spilling from his lips as he gazed down at you with naked adoration.

And you were. Such a good fucking girl.

Thank you for reading! 💕

A/N: I have another little part to this where reader sells her trailer and Eddie doesn’t like their new neighbor 👀

Taglist Lovelies 🏷️ : @mrsjellymunson @hippiegoth97 @princesssunderworld @madelynraemunson

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Draco 🤤🤤🤤

PLEASEEEE MORE POSSESSIVE JELOUS DRACO🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️YOUR BAD SANTA FIC WAS LITERALLY EVEYTHING. POSSESSIVE MEN GOT ME WEAK

thank you for the request!! hope this is satisfactory 🫶🏻

Flutterby Baby | D.M.

feat. Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Draco finds out another student sabotaged your Herbology project.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, draco’s pov, established relationship, possessive!draco, bullying, hurt/comfort, men suck, sort of rough fingering & piv, affectionate degradation if you squint (he refers to her as a plant), blood/fighting

masterlist

Draco watched as you pushed your pasta around your plate, staring absently at the whirls of sauce on the porcelain. You’d been quiet the entire meal, only speaking when directly spoken to by your group of friends, and even then, it was half-hearted, brief answers.

Both were unusual for his talkative, carb-loving girl.

He placed a light hand on your thigh, leaning closer to you. The warmth of your skin, the sweetness of your perfume, beckoned him even closer, but he ignored his impulses. “Everything alright, darling?” He asked, low enough that your friends couldn’t hear.

“Yes, just not very hungry,” you said in your pretty little voice, placing your hand over his and pecking his cheek.

He didn’t buy it. “I can track down some takeaway and we can eat in my dorm, if you’d like,” he offered, wondering if the commotion in the Great Hall was a bit too much for you.

You shook your head, another stunning development. You never turned down takeaway. “I’m fine, baby. Thank you, though.”

“Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll make one of these sod’s fetch it for you,” he teased, hoping to get a smile out of you. He didn’t.

Draco sighed, pressing a kiss to your temple before turning back to the conversation he was in the middle of with Theo and Pansy. He continued to watch you in his periphery as you started to play with his fingers, twirling his signet ring around and around. As much as he enjoyed the mindless contact, the delicate brush of your skin, he knew this was a nervous habit of yours.

He had half-a-thought to excuse you both, but he knew that would only draw more attention to your melancholy state, which would likely make you feel even worse. He could pick your brain later. Right now, he needed to make sure you were fed.

Casually, he picked up his fork, twirling a bit of his own pasta around the tines. Without breaking away from his conversation, he held the fork up to you, hoping you’d take a bite without really thinking about it. It was a small ritual the two of you developed during lengthy family dinners, something you often did automatically if he offered food to you. He felt you shift forward, your mouth wrap around the small bite, and you ate it.

He squeezed your thigh, a flare of affection making his heart pound. Good girl, he thought, but refrained from saying aloud.

The rest of dinner continued like that, Draco keeping your friends talking and distracted while he fed you small bites of his own dinner, your fingers twined with his in your lap. When he held up a bite and you gave small shake of your head, he knew it was because you were actually full, and he set his fork down, satisfied. For now.

That night in the common room, you were curled up in your chair by the fire, a book open in your lap while everyone pretended to study around you. He watched your eyes, your hands curled around the cover, and you were motionless. No pages turned, no lines devoured.

His worry deepened. Blaise seemed to notice as well, and gave him a curious look, dark brow raised. And of course, Theo caught the exchange, but turned back to his work, pretending he didn’t.

A prickle of suspicion climbed Draco’s neck. Typically, Theo was the first one to make a fuss over someone being in a sour mood due to his inability to tolerate negative emotions, but this time, he stayed silent.

Very odd, indeed.

But he could worry about Theo later. Draco lifted himself from the couch and walked over to you, dropping onto the floor in front of your chair. He tilted his head back, resting it against your shins. You reached down, dragging your fingers through his hair while you continued “reading” your book. He let his eyes flutter closed at the sensation, and tried to think of a way to draw you out of your head.

Lips pressed against his forehead, your perfume wafting over him, and he hummed in appreciation, reaching up to cradle your face. You leaned your cheek into his palm, and he titled his head back a little further to connect your lips in a soft kiss.

Your lips moved against his, brief and tender, and some of his tension unwound. It didn’t seem that you were upset with him, which was a relief. But, he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what exactly was troubling you.

“I’m going to go to bed,” you murmured in his ear, and he blinked in surprise, checking his watch.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock.

“So early, love? Are you feeling alright?” He turned to face you, rising to his knees. The group noticed, but he was too concerned to care. He placed the back of his hand on your forehead, your cheek, your neck, but you waved him away.

“I’m fine, D. Just tired,” you said, averting your eyes from his and rising from your chair.

“Baby—”

You leaned down and kissed him again, cutting off his protest. “I love you, I’ll see you in the morning,” you said, pecking his cheek one more time before walking towards the girls dormitory and ascending the stairs.

Draco slumped back to the ground, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What did you do to her?” Pansy accused after a moment of tense silence.

“Nothing,” he snapped, though it was mostly toothless.

“She was acting strangely at dinner too,” Blaise noted. “She didn’t even have dessert.”

“Yeah, and she loves those chocolate things—what are they called?” Theo chimed in.

“Cauldron cakes,” Draco answered, glaring at them, irked that they were paying that close of attention to you. That was his job.

“Are you going to follow her?” Blaise asked, glancing at the stairs.

“No, he should give her some space,” Pansy said, giving him a pointed look.

“I’m perfectly capable of managing my girlfriend’s needs. Thank you,” he bit, and they fell quiet. He would leave you be, for now, but if you were still in a funk tomorrow evening, he’d be forced to intervene.

You were decidedly still unlike yourself come the following morning, and when he saw you during your shared Potion’s class. He continued to monitor the situation, trying to be patient like you often asked him to be, but that went out the window when you returned from your Herbology class with Theo in tears.

As soon as Draco saw your red and puffy eyes, he was on his feet. You ran straight into his chest, burying your wet face in his robes and digging your chilled hands into his back, trembling as your tears returned in earnest.

“Darling, what’s happened? What’s going on?” He cooed, wrapping his arms around your shaking torso, petting your hair in an attempt to soothe you. You didn’t respond, just held him tighter as you cried.

Theo tried to slip around the two of you, but Draco pinned him with a glare.

“What happened?” Draco hissed at him.

“Her Flutterby bush is dying,” Theo whispered, and you started to cry harder.

Shit. You’d slaved half the semester over this Flutterby bush in Herbology, it was your pride and joy, and you often stayed after hours with Professor Sprout to tend to it and the rest of the greenhouse. You had the greenest thumb Draco had ever encountered, and that plant was your baby. There was no way it would just suddenly die.

Draco raised a brow, and Theo made a ‘tell you later’ face. He nodded his head to dismiss his friend and turned his attention back to you, his poor, sensitive girl.

“Baby, it’s going to be alright. I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s going on—”

You shook you head. “It doesn’t make sense,” you sniffled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “It was perfectly fine. There’s no bugs or blights, I don’t understand.” You lifted your face, cheeks streaked with tears and lashes spikey, your eyes rimmed with red. The state of you made his heart ache.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs and pressing a kiss to your nose. “If anyone can save it, you can. You’re brilliant, love.” He used his sleeve to wipe your eyes and your nose before bundling you into his side. “Come on, relax for a bit with Pansy. That’ll help you think a little more clearly, yeah?”

You nodded, letting him deposit you on the couch beside your friend, who immediately abandoned what she was doing to fuss over you.

He kissed the top of your head, satisfied that you were well looked after for the time being. “I love you, I’ll be right back, okay?” He murmured, and you nodded again.

Theo was waiting for him in the hall. “Okay, so don’t get mad,” he said, holding his hands up.

Draco’s anger instantly flared. “Don’t give me a reason to get mad then.”

“She told me not to tell you because she knew you’d get all—” Theo gestured vaguely at Draco. “All…this.”

“Out with it, Nott,” he growled, fully prepared to punch his best friends nose through the back of his skull. What could you possibly want to keep from him?

“We think someone poisoned her plant,” Theo said, grimacing.

Draco froze, rage flaring so suddenly it darkened his vision. “What?” he snarled.

“We can’t say for sure yet,” Theo said hurriedly, trying to get ahead of the oncoming storm. “But there’s this one guy—”

“Who?”

“Reinhardt? Renfield? Something like that, I don’t know, he’s a Gryffindor. But he—Draco, where are you going?”

Draco was already halfway down the hall, formulating a plan in his mind about how to find this guy, and how to make him wish he’d never been born.

Theo grabbed his shoulder. “Listen, I have a better idea than storming the Gryffindor common room,” he said, and Draco paused.

“Go on.”

Draco loitered outside the Greenhouse, hidden by some trees, a stupid plastic ear in his hand. Theo had the other tucked into his robes, and Draco could hear Sprout beginning her lecture through their connection.

Draco sighed. This was ridiculous, he should just waltz in there and figure out exactly who this—

“Hey, y/n,” he heard someone mutter, an unfamiliar male voice, and he immediately held up the ear to listen. “Flutterby’s not lookin’ so good. Maybe I could help clear away some of the dead stuff?”

Draco's ears started ringing so loudly, he almost missed your response.

“I'm killing it just fine on my own, Renley, I don't need any assistance from you.”

He heard Theo snicker in the background, and Draco smiled. Atta girl.

“My mandrakes are thriving, thank you,” Renley replied, his voice tight with indignation. “It's a real shame about yours, though. Probably would have gotten you top marks.”

You didn't respond, and Draco gripped a tree branch to stop himself from charging through the glass to get this audacious fucker.

“Fuck off, Renford,” Theo warned, the feed clouded by his robes rustling.

“It's Renley,” the prick corrected, his voice a little louder, and Draco could practically hear Theo roll his eyes. “So, what do you say, sweetheart?” Sweetheart? Oh, this fucker was a dead man walking. “I'm willing to stay after and help you out. I'm good with poisons—”

“Poison’s?” You asked, a snarky lilt to your voice, and Draco loosed a relieved exhale despite the implication. For the first time in days, you sounded like yourself. “Who said anything about poison?”

“Oh, I—uh—”

“Reindeer, how did you know her plant was poisoned?” Theo prodded, his smirk audible.

“I don't! It's obv—it’s probably not p-poison!” Renley stammered.

“What's this about poison?” Sprout interrupted at the same moment Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged from the treeline.

“Check fucking mate,” Draco mouthed, grinning.

“Professor Sprout, I do believe Renley here just confessed to poisoning y/n’s beloved Flutterby bush,” Theo said.

“Is this true, dearie?” Sprout asked you.

“Yes ma’am, it explains the strange phenomena we noted, as well as the sudden nature of the ailment. Renley’s been taunting me for days, and finally his mouth got ahead of his brain,” you said, poised as a Queen, and Draco was so proud of you it hurt.

Sprout gasped. “Mr. Renley! To Dumbledore's office this instant!”

“Crabbe, Goyle, grab him,” Draco ordered, stuffing the ear into his robes.

The two of them lumbered over the door, staying out of sight until the culprit stepped out into the sunlight, and Goyle grabbed Renley by the shoulders and started to drag him back around the Greenhouse.

“Hey! What the fuck—” his words pinched to a strangled whine when he saw Draco and Blaise waiting a few feet away, arms folded over their chests, completely hidden from the rest of campus.

Goyle shoved him to the ground at Draco's feet, and the coward was already sniveling.

Draco crouched down, nose to nose with the fucker that made his girl miserable, and smiled. “Was it worth it, Renley?” Draco asked, his voice low.

“Look, Malfoy. I didn't mean to—”

Draco didn't give him a chance to finish his paltry excuse and cocked his fist back, slamming his knuckles square in the side of his jaw. The bone crunched under his fist, sending Renley flying sideways in a spray of spit and blood, and Draco rose, clenching and unclenching his aching hand.

Normally, he'd step back and let the others get their hands dirty, but you were his girl. And if anyone was going to defend your honor, it would be him.

“No, no please!” Renley begged when Goyle hauled him back up. Draco punched him again, dead on the nose, then the temple, then the sternum. Goyle let Renley fall, groveling and weeping as blood ran down his face, his eyes already half-swollen shut.

Draco grabbed him by the hair, lifting his head up so he could whisper in his ear. “You're lucky it wasn't poison,” he snarled, and dropped Renley’s head into the dirt. “Leave him on the front steps of the castle,” he said to Crabbe and Goyle, who immediately pulled the boy up and started dragging him back towards the castle.

Blaise chuckled. “That was fucking brutal, mate.”

Draco looked down at his bruised and bloody knuckles, the pain bright and deliciously satisfying, his signet ring splattered with red. “Like I said, he's lucky I didn't decide to poison him.”

The chatter of students filled the air, and he looked up to see the Greenhouse emptying. Theo headed straight for them, glancing at Draco's knuckles and the blood in the grass before breaking out in a wild grin.

“Sorry I missed it,” Theo laughed.

“Where is she?” Draco asked.

“Staying behind to administer the antidote. Sprout is leaving her to ensure Renley is dealt with accordingly.”

“Well, she certainly won't be disappointed,” Blaise snickered.

“So she’s alone?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. He was hoping to clean himself up before seeing you, but wasn't sure he could resist the temptation. Not with his blood still running hot and your smart little voice echoing in his mind.

“Yep.” Theo smirked. “See ya’ back in the common room.” He and Blaise turned and started heading back to the castle, leaving Draco alone.

He rounded the greenhouse, knocking with his sore knuckles so he didn't startle you.

“Draco? What are you—saints, your hands!” You cried, rushing over to open the door for him. You grabbed for his hands, face pinched with worry.

“I'm fine, love,” he cooed, letting you fuss. The air in the greenhouse was thick and warm, coaxing him in like a embrace. It smelled fresh and lush, sweet soil and green leaves, like you.

Merlin, he couldn't think straight with you looking at him like that.

“Who did—” you paused, eyes narrowing. “Renley?”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

“Draco!” You huffed, dropping his hands. “I had it under control!”

“I know you did! You were amazing! I just...accelerated the consequences.”

You glared at him, but he could see you softening by the second.

“Baby, I'm fine. And he'll be fine in like, four to five business days.”

“Draco!” You shouted, but you were smiling. He fucking loved what you called his name in that exasperated but undeniably affectionate voice. “You don't have to get involved all the time. I'm perfectly capable of fighting my own battles, and Professor Sprout was working with me to solve it and—”

Draco reached out, pinching your cheeks with one hand, pursing your pouting lips and dragging you closer to him. “I'd do it again in a heartbeat. No one fucks with you so long as I'm breathing, is that clear?”

You nodded, eyes round and sweet like honey.

He released your face, sliding his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck and craning your head upwards. “Can I kiss you now? Or would you like to keep telling me off?”

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a playful, smiley kiss. “Anything for my hero.”

“Anything?” Draco purred, walking you back into the long work table. You gasped, arching against his chest, and he caught the sound with another kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips to taste you.

Your tongue tangled with his, so eager as you pulled his tie to bring him closer. He guided your tongue into his mouth, sucking lightly before releasing you to bite your lip, toying with your mouth like he owned it.

And he could feel how much you loved it, your hips pressing against his as your hands wandered his chest, unable to pick a resting place.

He smiles, moving his hands to grip your hips. In a quick movement, he spun you around. Your hands slapped onto the table to catch yourself, your perfect ass pressing back against his rapidly hardening cock.

“Draco,” you whined, trying to look over your shoulder at him.

He tsked, sliding up your skirt, admiring the way his ruined knuckles looked against the soft flesh. “Do you want me to be gentle with you, darling?” He already knew what your answer would be, especially after a few stressful days, but he felt inclined to double check.

You shook your head side to side, pressing your ass back into his hands. “No.”

He smiled, squeezing the ample flesh, then delivered a swift slap that made you gasp. “That's my girl. You want me to scare away all those bad thoughts? Turn your brain off for a bit?” He slid his right hand between your legs, gliding two fingers over the damp spot on your panties.

You nodded, nails scratching along the wood when he applied a little pressure, moving his hand in a slow circle.

“Words, love,” he said, pausing his movement.

“Yes, baby. Please,” you whined, and his cock gave a painful lurch against his thigh.

“Colloportus,” he murmured, flicking his wand to lock the Greenhouse door. “Don't move,” he ordered, then walked over to the sink, washing the blood from his hands and muttering a quiet episkey to fix most of the damage on his skin. Some cuts remained, and his hands were still sore and slightly bruised, but it wasn't nearly as bad.

Satisfied, he turned his attention back to you, where you remained perfectly still, nibbling at your lower lip. In quick movement, he pulled down your panties, letting the fall around your ankles, and kicked your feet further apart, forcing you to lay your chest against the table.

“There we go,” he purred, bringing his hand back between your legs.

You were already soaked, hot and slick as his middle finger swiped through your sex. He started massaging your clit, quick, light circles that had you moaning breathlessly.

“Better, darling? Nothing to worry about besides being my good girl.” He moved away from your clit and eased his middle finger inside of you, his signet ring kissing your entrance before he curled his finger up. Your walls fluttered around him, sucking back against his finger when he pulled it out, only to graciously stretch for him when he added a second.

“Fuck, D,” you moaned, rocking your hips against his hand. “You said you wouldn't be gentle “

He smirked, enraptured with the way your pretty little cunt yielded for his battered hand. “Just so pretty,” he hummed, leaning down to whisper in your ear, pressing you harder against the table. “Can't help but worship you a little.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he slammed his fingers inside of you, drilling into your channel with sloppy, punishing strokes. You cried out, feet sliding around on the floor, but he had you pinned and at his mercy.

“This better, brat?” He growled, nipping at your ear when you keened for him, unable to formulate a response. “Oh, how that fucker wishes he could see you now,” he drawled, straightening while his fingers fucked into you. “What'd he call you? Sweetheart?” He chuckled. “Sweet doesn't begin to cover it.”

“How did you—”

He slipped his fingers out to work your clit, the bud swelling under his touch as your orgasm built, and your words twisted into a moan. He tried to stay focused, keep you on the edge until he was sheathed inside of you, but couldn't bring himself to stop just yet.

“Are you sweet, baby?” He asked, swatting your ass cheek, enjoying the way your flesh rippled.

“Only for you,” you gasped, starting to tremble as that knot wound tighter and tighter.

“That's right,” he praised, undoing his trousers and taking his cock in his hand. He was insanely hard, the head a deep pink, pearly precum beading from the slit. He pumped himself twice to relieve some of the ache, then notched himself at your entrance, not pausing his assault on your clit for a moment. “All fucking mine,” he growled at the same moment he thrust inside of you, burying himself to the hilt.

You cried out, muscles contracting hard around him, and he groaned low in his throat. You were so fucking tight, gooey and supple when you weren't squeezing the life out of him. He drew back a few inches before snapping his hips forward, gripping your ass cheek in his free hand to keep you spread for him as he pounded into you.

He felt your orgasm hit the second before you did, your cunt clamping down on him a heartbeat before you screamed, your whole body locking up before going completely limp. He didn't let up, no matter how much you shook, how much you begged. Your tears left damp spots on the wood, your knees trying to buckle inwards, but he planted his feet on the inside of yours, forcing you to stay upright.

“Good fucking girl,” he rasped, snaking a hand up your spine to grip your hair and pull your head back. “Doing so well for me, sweet thing.” He was panting, the heat of the greenhouse coupled with the exterior making sweat collect around his hairline and drip down his spine. His knuckles burned from the salt, hands ached from being used long past when they should have been bandaged, but he didn't give a single fuck.

“Draco, shit—fuck me so good.” You reached back for him, nails dragging along his forearm, and he felt himself teeter on the edge of release, his balls drawing up tight as liquid heat spread through his pelvis.

“Give me one more, baby. I know you can. Then I'll water my favorite plant.”

Your pussy clenched at his words, a wanton moan falling from your lips, and he smiled. You were such a little freak, his little freak, and he loved you all the more it.

“You like being my pretty little houseplant? All mine to take care of?” Fuck, he was close, rambling in an attempt to distract himself and spend just a little longer in the delicious heat of your body.

“Yes, yes—fuck!” You were coming again, your whole body convusling as it ripped through you, and he was done for. He came with a yell, hips stuttering against your ass as he pumped rope after rope of release into your spasming cunt.

“Bloody hell, baby,” he moaned, bracing his hands on the table as he came down, his hips involuntarily rocking into your greedy warmth. You, poor thing, were left drooling and trembling, completely boneless, held up entirely by the table and his hips. He leaned forward, pressing kisses into your hair. “Did so good, love. So fucking perfect,” he murmured, throat tight with affection.

“Squishin’ me,” you giggled, squirming beneath him, and he straightened, nearly toppling over himself at the weak feeling in his knees.

“Sorry, darling,” he chuckled, and you groaned, pushing yourself up on trembling arms. He moved his feet, letting you close your legs, and he hissed through his teeth at the new tightness around his softening cock, stealing a final thrust before slipping out of you.

“Mm, how did you know he called me sweetheart?” You asked, peeking over your shoulder at him while he grabbed his wand to clean you both up.

“I have my methods,” he replied, righting your clothes and helping you stand up, relishing in the lingering tremble in your limbs.

“Were you spying on me, Draco Malfoy?” You teased, tugging him down by the tie so you were face to face.

He smirked. “Perhaps.”

“What a horrible invasion of privacy,” you snickered, giving him a playful peck.

“You want to punish me for it?” He nipped at your lower lip and you grinned, pushing lightly on his chest.

“Enough you, I have to administer the antidote before my plant gets any sicker.”

“Good thing I already cured mine,” he teased, and you swatted him before slipping out of his arms.

“You're insufferable.”

“And you're adorable.”

You grabbed some items from the shelves and a watering can, then paused, turning to look at him, a deadly serious look on your face. “Can we get takeaway after this?”

He snorted, his heart doing a giddy little flip. “Of course we can.”