Ramilvr06

"see, i don't even know the words." megan doesn't look up from her nails, which she's very intently not painting because she ran out of the color she wanted three days ago and has been mourning it since. "basketball is just tall people running back and forth. i don't get the appeal."

"i played basketball my entire life, megan."

"i know that."

"i was a d1 athlete."

"i know that too, baby, but i don’t really know what that means." she finally glances at you, grinning. "i'm happy for your bouncy ball era. i just don't want to sit in an arena for three hours confused."

you're about to argue when lara, uninvited as always, wanders in from the kitchen with a spoon in her mouth eating directly out of a peanut butter jar. "just go with your girlfriend, megan. it's a date. free food. air conditioning."

"exactly," you say, gesturing at lara like she just solved world peace.

"also," manon adds, appearing out of nowhere the way she does, "the players are hot. like objectively. i've seen photos."

"i don't care about hot women playing basketball, i care about—"

"paige bueckers is playing." dani, who has been suspiciously silent until now, sits up straight on the other couch like she's been electrocuted. "wait, is paige bueckers playing? y/n. y/n. is she playing."

"she plays for the wings, dani, yes, she's playing."

dani makes a sound that can only be described as a fangirl screech. "i need to see her in person. i need this. megan you have to go so we can all go."

"i still don't know who that is."

"paige bueckers," yoonchae says, like she's explaining something to a child, "is literally one of the best point guards in the league right now. y/n, if you'd declared for the draft you could've been her. like, that could've been you."

"okay let's not exaggerate—"

"no it's true," sophia chimes in, nodding seriously.

"i'm still not going," megan says, but there's a wobble in her voice now, the kind that means she's four minutes away from caving.

"babe." you drop down next to her, doing the thing with your eyes that you know works on her. "please. for me. i'll buy you the churro."

"the overpriced arena churro?"

"the overpriced arena churro."

she stares at you for a long, dramatic moment, sighing like you've just asked her to donate a kidney. "fine. but if i'm bored we’re leaving."

"you won't be bored."

"we'll see."

•

the arena is loud and bright and smells like popcorn and beer, and megan is clutching a foam finger someone handed her at the door.

"why is it a finger."

"it's a foam finger, megan."

"why."

"i don't know, it's a basketball thing, just wear it."

she puts it on like it's radioactive. you're practically vibrating in your seat, pointing out things as the teams warm up: the rim height, the three point line, the way paige bueckers is effortlessly draining shots from half court like it's nothing.

"see, look at her form—"

"mm."

"the follow through, it's so clean—"

"mhm."

megan is not looking at the court. megan is looking at you, chin in her hand, a small smile on her face like she's watching something far more interesting than basketball.

"you're not even watching," you say.

"i'm watching you get excited. it's cute." she leans over and kisses your cheek. "you're lucky i love you, you know that?"

"i know." you kiss her back, smug and warm all over. "you're gonna love this, i promise."

the game starts. you're explaining fouls, explaining the shot clock, explaining why everyone's screaming when the liberty hit a three. megan nods along, still mostly looking at you, still mostly disinterested in the actual sport happening twenty feet away.

and then paige bueckers steals the ball on a fast break, weaves through two defenders like they're not even there, and finishes with a layup so smooth the whole arena erupts.

megan goes quiet.

you don't notice at first — you're too busy screaming, high-fiving lara, absolutely losing your mind over the play. it's not until the next dead ball that you glance over and see megan sitting very still, eyes fixed on the court, foam finger forgotten in her lap.

"you good?"

"hm? yeah. yeah, i'm good." she blinks like she's coming out of a trance. "she's just. really fast."

"she is."

megan doesn't say anything else. but for the rest of the quarter, you notice . she's quiet. weirdly quiet. she doesn't cheer for threes, doesn't react to blocks, doesn't so much as blink when the liberty go on a run.

except every single time paige bueckers touches the ball.

then megan sits up a little straighter. then megan's eyes track her across the court like she's the only person playing. and when paige hits a stepback three at the buzzer to end the half, megan is on her feet, clapping, genuinely clapping, louder than she's clapped for anything all night.

you side-eye her.

she doesn't notice. she's too busy watching number five jog back to the locker room.

second half, and it's more of the same. megan, silent and unmoved by everything — the dunks, the threes, dani's screaming, lara's terrible attempts at the wave — except for paige.

paige gets a steal: megan gasps.

paige draws a foul: megan mutters "that was so not a foul" under her breath like she's been watching basketball her whole life.

paige hits a fadeaway over two defenders: megan actually stands up, hands over her mouth, and goes "oh my god" so loud that the guy in front of you turns around.

you're staring at her now, full side-eye, arms crossed.

"what?" she says, noticing you finally.

"nothing."

"you're looking at me weird."

"i'm not looking at you weird."

"baby, you are.”

you drop it, because the wings pull ahead in the fourth quarter and everyone around you is losing their minds, dani is filming everything on her phone screaming paige's name like she's at a concert, and by the time the final buzzer sounds — wings win, and paige bueckers finishes with a near triple-double — the whole section is on its feet.

megan is on her feet too. clapping. genuinely, actually happy.

you decide to let it go. for now.

•

"okay," megan says on the walk back to the car, practically skipping, "that was actually super fun. when can we go again?"

you blink. "wait, really?"

"yes! i had so much fun. we have to go again."

"i mean — i can try to get tickets again, i'll see what's available—"

"okay but," she cuts in, way too casually, "can we specifically see the team that just won? like the dallas ones?"

you stop walking. "the wings?"

"yeah, them."

you raise an eyebrow — the eyebrow thing, apparently — and study her. "why them specifically?"

"i don't know, i just liked their energy."

"their energy."

"yeah!"

"megan, every time i've tried to talk to you about basketball for the past two years, you've told me and i quote, 'it's just tall people running,' and now you have opinions about team energy?"

"things change, y/n."

"things change," you repeat, flatly.

"yeah! people grow! people can develop new interests!"

you roll your eyes, mostly annoyed, a little suspicious, and decide not to push it further. "i'll see what i can find."

"thank you, baby." she kisses your cheek, entirely too pleased with herself, and you shake your head the whole ride home.

•

it starts small.

tuesday: you find megan on the couch scrolling tiktok, and when you peek over her shoulder it's a paige bueckers highlight reel set to some trendy tiktok song, edited with slow motion and text overlays.

wednesday: megan casually mentions, over breakfast, that the wings are "on a two game win streak, did you know that."

you did not know that. you don't think megan knew what a win streak was a week ago.

thursday: you walk past her phone on the counter and the screen is on the dallas wings instagram page, several posts deep, and one story-highlight click away from paige bueckers' personal account.

you: i think megan has a crush on paige bueckers

lara: lmaooooo

babe u took her to one game

this is entirely your fault

you: this is not helpful

lara: i think it's hilarious. anyway good luck w that 💀

you: lara

lara: 🫡

•

you and megan live together, which means there's no escaping the eventual conversation, and it happens on a wednesday over reheated pasta.

"babe,” you say, twirling your fork, deliberately casual, "you've been awfully interested in paige bueckers lately."

megan's fork pauses mid-air. "what? no. i mean — i just admire her."

"admire her."

"she's really good at basketball."

"i play basketball too," you say, unable to help the edge in your voice. "you've literally never hyped me up like that."

"i've never seen you play basketball, babe."

"i have highlight tapes from college. i've offered to show you. multiple times."

"that's different."

"how is that different?"

"i don't know, it just is." megan shrugs, going back to her pasta like this is a completely normal, unremarkable conversation and not the thing currently eating you alive. "she's just really impressive. that's all.”

you let it drop, but you tuck it away, deeply, for later use.

•

the following week, you're walking through the city with the whole group — lara, manon, dani, yoonchae, sophia, megan — heading to get food, when you pass a court where a group of guys around your age are playing a lazy pickup game, their girlfriends sitting bored on the bleachers scrolling their phones.

the ball rolls out of bounds, straight toward you. you catch it out of pure instinct.

"oh, hey," one of the guys calls, jogging over, "you play?"

before you can answer, lara's already grinning, stepping forward like she's been waiting for this exact moment her whole life. "you know this girl's a d1 basketball athlete? i bet she can beat all three of you in a 1v3."

"lara—"

"trust me." she doesn't even look at you, just smirks at the guys.

the guy laughs, looking you up and down, unimpressed. "bet. but i bet she can't."

and something in you — something competitive, something that's been sitting dormant since college, something that does not appreciate being underestimated — wakes up.

"give me the ball," you say.

the girls on the bleachers look up from their phones, mildly interested now. megan glances at you, just in time to see you toe the three point line, bounce the ball twice, and look at the three guys with a calm, dangerous little smile.

"ball in?"

what follows is, frankly, a massacre.

you cross the first guy so hard he nearly falls over, pull up from midrange, and drain it clean. 2-0.

the second possession you drive baseline, spin off your defender, and finish with a reverse layup so smooth the guys on the sideline actually go "oh," out loud.

by the fourth point you're taking it behind the back between two guys just to hear them groan.

you pull up from three — way beyond the college line, because why not — and it splashes through the net without even touching the rim.

"air ball— i mean, that's not — that's not fair, she's not even trying," one of the guys pants, hands on his knees.

"skill issue," lara calls from the sideline, cackling.

you're sweating, grinning, fully in your element, hair sticking to your forehead, moving like this is the easiest thing in the world, because it is — this is what your body has known how to do since you were nine years old. you cross another guy so bad he stumbles sideways into the fence. dani is filming. sophia is losing her mind. yoonchae and manon screaming your name.

and megan.

megan is not saying anything.

megan is standing very still, mouth slightly open, eyes tracking you across the court with an intensity that lara notices immediately — lara, who glances over, sees megan basically drooling, watching you like you hung the moon, and has to physically bite down on her own fist to keep from laughing out loud.

there it is, lara thinks, mentally patting herself on the back.

you finish the game with an and-one, drawing the foul and hitting the free throw anyway just to be petty about it. final score: 11-2. by a landslide. the group erupts, screaming, trash talking the guys mercilessly.

"eleven to two!" manon shouts. "eleven to two. and one of you claimed you could actually guard her!"

"LETS FUCKING GO!” dani calls, cackling.

you're laughing, breathless, wiping sweat off your forehead with the hem of your shirt, and you look — genuinely, unfairly — really hot right now, and you have no idea just how much megan is struggling right now.

you're jogging over to your friends, still riding the high of the win, when someone steps directly into your path.

blonde. blue eyes. one of the girlfriends who was sitting on the bleachers, except she's very clearly not looking at you like a girlfriend would look at anyone else's girlfriend.

"hey," she says, smiling in a way that's very obviously not friendly-neighbor smiling. "that was really impressive."

"oh, thanks." you're still catching your breath, trying to sidestep her politely to get to your friends.

"seriously, though." she steps closer, and her hand lands on your bicep, fingers pressing in like she's testing the merchandise. "you play like that all the time? because that was insane."

"i, uh. used to. in college."

"college, huh." her thumb traces a slow line over your arm. "i bet you could teach me a thing or two."

you're opening your mouth to politely extract yourself from this conversation when a voice cuts through, sharp as a blade.

"good game, baby."

megan's hand slides possessively around your waist and her mouth is on yours before you can even process it, a kiss that is decidedly not subtle, decidedly a statement, decidedly for an audience.

she pulls back just enough to turn and face the girl, sweet smile firmly in place, voice dripping with false pleasantness.

"i'm megan." a beat. "her girlfriend."

the girl's expression flickers — annoyance, then a slow, unbothered eye roll, like she's dealt with jealous girlfriends before and finds them predictable. "relax. i was just talking."

"you were touching," megan corrects.

the girl shrugs, already turning to walk away, tossing over her shoulder with a smirk: "well, if you're ever bored of your girlfriend, my instagram is—"

she doesn't get to finish.

megan shoves her.

not a light shove either — a full, both-hands, shove that sends the girl stumbling backward and landing hard on the pavement, more shocked than hurt, blinking up at megan like she genuinely cannot believe what just happened.

"MEGAN," you yelp, at the exact same moment lara shouts "okay—" and the whole group descends into chaos, dani and sophia rushing to pull megan back, yoonchae already apologizing to the fallen girl on autopilot, manon filming (because of course she is), and you grabbing megan's arm to physically turn her away.

"you don't just walk up and touch someone's girlfriend like she's a snack at a buffet," megan is saying, loudly, still glaring, as lara tugs her backward.

"megan, oh my god, let's go—"

"i'm just saying—"

"megan, baby, we're leaving, come on—" you're half-laughing despite yourself, adrenaline and secondhand embarrassment mixing into something dizzy, steering megan away by the shoulders while the girl picks herself up off the ground, dusting off her jeans, shooting one last unimpressed look in your direction before stalking off toward her friends.

"i can't believe you pushed her," dani says, delighted, the second you're all a block away.

"i can't believe she thought she could just TOUCH—"

"megan."

"what."

"i love you," you say, because you can't help it, because the whole thing was absurd and a little unhinged and also, embarrassingly, kind of doing something for you.

megan deflates slightly, crossing her arms. "she was disrespectful."

"she was," you agree, mostly to keep the peace. "you good?"

"i'm good." a pause. "you were really good back there, by the way. on the court."

"i know."

"i mean it. you were — you were really good." she's looking at you differently now, something warmer replacing the leftover irritation. "like, genuinely impressive."

"thank you."

"better than paige bueckers," she adds, entirely too seriously.

you snort. "you don't have to lie to me."

"i'm not lying."

"megan, you have three tiktoks saved of her crossover alone."

"that's different."

"is it."

"yes," she says, firmly.

she glances at you sideways, something a little heated behind it, and you decide you'll take the win.

•

the apartment is quiet when you get back. the kind of quiet that still feels like it’s buzzing from everything that just happened.

you barely get the door shut before megan’s grabbing your shirt, pulling you in like she’s been holding herself back the entire walk home.

"megan—"

"no," she murmurs, already kissing you again, a little breathless, a little impatient. "don’t talk yet."

you laugh into her mouth, but it melts quickly when her hands slide up your sides, gripping like she needs to feel that you’re real, that you’re actually here and not still on that court making everyone lose their minds.

"you’ve been like this since we left," you mumble between kisses.

"yeah, well," she says, nudging you back until your spine hits the door again, "whose fault is that?"

"mine?" you grin.

"yours," she confirms immediately, like it’s obvious. "you just—" she gestures vaguely, frustrated, "you didn’t tell me you were that good."

you raise a brow. "i told you i was a d1 athlete."

"i thought you were exaggerating!"

"why would i exaggerate that?"

"i don’t know," she huffs, then leans in again, softer this time, slower. "you looked so…" she trails off, like she doesn’t have the words, which is rare for her.

"so?" you prompt.

"annoying," she says, but there’s no bite in it. her thumb brushes along your jaw. "like you knew you were going to win. like it was easy."

"it was easy," you tease.

she narrows her eyes at you, but there’s something else there too — something warmer, something a little dazed. "exactly. annoying."

then, quieter: "i’ve just never seen you like that before."

that knocks the teasing out of you a little.

"like what?"

"like… in your element," she says. "i’ve heard you talk about basketball, yeah, but—" she shakes her head, searching. "that was different. you were so confident. and everyone was watching you and you didn’t even care, you just—did it."

your grip on her tightens just slightly. "you didn’t seem very interested when i was talking about it before."

"i didn’t get it before," she admits, voice small in a way you don’t hear often. "i thought it was just… a game."

"and now?"

she lets out a soft laugh, leaning her forehead against yours. "now i get why you love it."

a beat.

"also," she adds, "you’re insanely hot when you play."

there it is.

you smirk. "insanely hot, huh?"

"don’t let it get to your head."

"too late."

"ugh," she groans, but she’s smiling, and then she’s kissing you again. slower now, deeper, like she’s savoring it instead of trying to prove a point.

your hand slides up to her jaw, tilting her head just slightly, and she melts into it in a way that makes your chest ache a little.

"you know," you murmur against her lips, "earlier this week you were watching paige bueckers edits."

"oh my god," she groans immediately, trying to pull back, but you don’t let her.

"no, no, let’s talk about it—"

"we are not talking about that."

"you had them bookmarked.”

"i hate you."

"you said you admired her."

"i did!" she insists, then squints at you. "i still do. she’s talented."

she pauses.

then her voice drops, quieter, more serious than before. "but she’s not you."

"megan—"

"no, listen," she says, suddenly earnest, hands sliding up to cup your face now. "i got caught up, okay? it was new, it was exciting, and yeah, she’s amazing, whatever. but tonight—" her thumb brushes your cheek, softer now. "that wasn’t just exciting. that was you.”

you swallow, the teasing gone completely now.

"and i don’t just admire you," she adds, almost shyly. "i love you. a lot."

you don’t even think about it — you just pull her in again, kissing her.

she hums softly into it, hands slipping under your shirt this time, warm against your skin, and you can’t help the small breath that escapes you.

"see," she murmurs, a little smug now, "that’s the reaction i wanted earlier."

"you’re unbelievable," you say, but you’re smiling.

"and you’re mine," she shoots back instantly.

"possessive."

megan scoffs. "absolutely."

you laugh, pressing one last kiss to her lips, softer this time, lingering. "i still can’t believe you pushed her."

"i would do it again."

"you’re insane.”

“i’m as serious as a heart attack.”

"you’re lucky i love you."

"i am," she says, grinning, nudging her nose against yours. "and you’re lucky i went to that game."

"oh, so now it’s my luck?"

"yeah," she shrugs. "otherwise i wouldn’t have realized my girlfriend is basically better than half the league."

"half?"

"okay, fine. all of them."

you laugh, pulling her closer, resting your forehead against hers. "liar."

"only for you," she murmurs, and kisses you again, softer this time, like she means it.

and later, when you’re curled up together on the couch, her head on your shoulder, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm—

"hey," she says.

"hm?"

"next time we go to a game," she tilts her head up to look at you, "you have to explain everything again. like the plays. and the positions. and… whatever that thing was you did where the guy almost fell."

"a crossover."

"yeah, that." she smiles. "i wanna learn."

you press a kiss to her hair, warmth settling deep in your chest.

When you finish eating, she leans in automatically, waiting for her forehead kiss.

You give it to her without thinking, lips pressing to her warm skin. She practically preens.

But then you stand, collecting your plate.

Megan follows you like a shadow.

While you rinse your dishes, she hovers behind you. While you wipe the counter, she leans her chin on your shoulder. When you reach for your laptop on the coffee table, she perks up immediately.

'You’re working?' She asks, voice soft and betrayed, ears subtly drooping.

You nod apologetically. 'Just for a little bit. I need to send a few emails, Meg.'

She pouts in slow motion. A very dramatic pout.

'Okay…' She murmurs, but she doesn’t move far. She curls up on the opposite side of the couch, close enough that her knee brushes yours. Her golden hair falls into her eyes, and she flicks it away with a little shake—something so doglike you have to bite a smile back.

You settle in. Laptop open. Inbox exploding.

Within seconds, you’re absorbed. Typing, scrolling, responding, checking attachments.

Megan watches you for five minutes. Then ten. Then twenty.

Her tail, which had been idly swishing against the blanket, slows to a stop.

She shifts. Scoots an inch closer. Then two.

Then she lets out a soft, dramatic huff — the kind that vibrates her whole chest.

You don’t hear it, or at least not enough to look up.

She leans her head on your shoulder.

You press a quick kiss to her forehead. It's automatic and affectionate as you murmur a distracted, 'Later, baby. I promise.'

Your eyes never leave the screen.

Megan freezes.

You kissed her. But you didn’t look at her.

You didn’t focus on her. That's a crime.

Her ears tilt back. Then forward. Then back again. Her fingers fidget with the edge of the blanket, and she shifts again, clearly restless.

You type on, unaware that you are currently breaking her sunshine filled heart.

Megan tries another huff. Louder this time.

Nothing.

She leans even heavier onto you, practically halfway into your lap.

Nothing.

Her eyes narrow—confused, wounded, and… plotting?

Thirty minutes have passed since breakfast. Thirty minutes without your full attention.

That's thirty minutes too long.

Megan straightens slowly… the way a golden retriever does right before deciding it's been suffering for far too long. Her cheeks puff out with another groan, her foot taps against the rug, and she peers at you with wide, soulful, begging eyes.

You miss all of it.

You’re deep in an email chain, typing your heart out about deadlines and scheduling conflicts.

Megan stares. Then stares harder.

Then she whispers under her breath, tiny and offended, '…You said ‘later.’'

And then, '…It’s later now.'

She folds her arms. Huffing. Whining. Tiny stomps against the carpet.

Her tail twitches with growing frustration.

You still don’t look up.

Megan’s mouth falls open in silent outrage…

And in that moment, she decides that if you won’t give her attention… she’s going to take it.

The golden retriever tantrum is incoming. And she’s only just getting started.

---

Megan’s first plan is subtle… well, as subtle as it can be for her.

She slips off the couch with a slow, exaggerated sigh and pads towards the bedroom. You don’t even turn your head.

Inside, she rummages around—soft rustles, a thump, a little frustrated grunt—until she returns with her favourite plush: the ridiculously floppy stuffed duck you bought her on a whim. Its wings are frayed from love, one eye is half missing.

She holds it delicately between her teeth.

Not because she has to, but because instinct demands it.

She drops it in your lap, right on top of your keyboard.

You blink, finally glancing down. 'Oh, Meg… baby.'

Your heart softens instantly, because the look she’s giving you is pure, shimmering, tail-wagging hope.

You cup her cheek with one hand. Ruffle her hair gently with the other.

She beams as her tail starts wagging.

She readies herself for full play time, duck already in her mouth again —but you slowly lift the toy off your keyboard.

'Later, I promise.' You murmur as you refocus on your laptop.

Megan stops mid-wag. Her tail falls with a sad little plop onto the couch.

If you won’t play… she’ll force physical contact instead.

She drops to her knees in front of the couch and gently drapes her body across your feet.

All her weight. All her warmth. Full golden retriever strategy.

You lean to give her a quick, absentminded pat on her head. 'Good girl…'

She melts for a second, eyes fluttering shut— only for you to type another email.

The bliss leaves her face immediately.

She slowly lifts her head, brows scrunched, eyes narrowed with her tail completely still.

This is a crisis.

She shifts upward, resting her chin on your knee as a soft, tiny, heart-breaking whine slips out.

You glance down, give her a loving rub behind the ear.

Then go right back to typing.

Megan’s jaw drops.

Her dignity falls to the floor as she looks personally betrayed.

Desperation makes her bold. So she creeps closer— very slowly, like a predator stalking its prey.

Except she’s the least subtle creature alive.

You don’t notice anything until her hand, her paw, slides onto your keyboard.

Right across the keys.

Your email fills with, 'jvvjvvjjjjfffffffmnnnnnnnnnnn.'

You stop, exhale a tiny laugh, and gently remove her hand.

'Megan…'

Her big eyes widen with false innocence.

You brush her knuckles with your thumb. She nuzzles her cheek into your palm like a satisfied cat.

For one glorious moment, she thinks she’s won. Then you pull your hand away and return to your screen.

Megan freezes like she’s been shot. Her mouth opens in a silent gasp. Her ears perk and then fall dramatically.

Her tail flicks once… Then goes still.

And that’s when it hits her: She’s losing. She’s losing the war.

So her jaw sets and her brows furrow.

A tiny, frustrated hmph leaves her chest.

And she decides, fine. If subtle doesn’t work— she’ll upgrade.

The stomp-huff-groan meltdown is about to begin.

---

At first, it’s nothing unusual. For a while at least.

About thirty minutes later, you catch Megan in the corner of your eye. She’s standing halfway between the kitchen and the living room like she’s sizing you up. You glance over your screen and smile softly.

'Hey, baby.'

Her whole face lights up for a second. Then you go back to typing.

And she wilts.

Not dramatically — just a tiny droop of the shoulders, like a golden retriever who just realised the ball throw was fake. She pads over, quiet as ever, and gently places her favourite plush toy onto your lap again.

You stroke her hair with one hand. 'I know, sweetheart. I’ll play in a bit. Promise. Just need to get through this mountain of emails.'

She sighs — a soft, warm puff of air on your arm — and then lays herself fully across your feet again like a weighted blanket with feelings. You adjust, smile, finish another email.

Two minutes later you feel a tiny vibration.

She’s whining.

Barely. Almost polite. The kind of whine that says I’m not upset, but I am very… extremely… profoundly bored.

You reach down blindly, fingers threading into her hair again. 'You’re being very cute, you know that?'

She leans into your hand, melts for a second… then, realising you’re still working, pushes herself up with a soft huff.

Time for her next move.

She sits right beside you, blocking the bottom corner of your screen. You shift your body slightly to see around her. She shifts with you. You move again. She mirrors you. It’s like playing a slow, affectionate version of tag with your laptop as the prize.

'Megan,' you murmur, amused despite yourself, 'I just need... twenty more minutes.'

She places one hand on your keyboard.

Not even subtle — flat out claiming it.

'No, no, not again,' you laugh softly, lifting her hand and kissing her knuckles. 'Baby, I really have to get these done.'

She narrows her eyes like she’s evaluating your excuse. Then—slowly, deliberately—she leans down and uses her teeth to tug on the sleeve of your shirt. A tiny, stubborn pull. Another one. Harder this time.

'Megan!' You whisper-shout, half scandalised, half smitten. 'Are you—are you nibbling me right now?'

She lets go with a tiny growl of frustration and resumes pawing at your sleeve with both hands.

You smooth her hair back, speak softly. 'Just a few more minutes, love.'

And you turn back to your laptop.

That’s when it happens.

A sound you have never heard from her before.

A frustrated, throaty, human-sounding hrrrrrmmmph that vibrates through her whole chest… followed by a rapid, tiny stomp-stomp-stomp of her feet on the carpet.

You freeze.

She freezes.

You look at her.

She looks at you.

'Megan… what was that?' You ask, blinking.

Her face immediately goes red, ears pink, eyes wide. She folds her arms behind her back like she’s been caught committing tax fraud.

'I— I didn’t mean to,' she mutters, looking everywhere except at you. 'It just—came out.'

You stare for a second. Then smile. Then break into helpless laughter.

'Megan,' you wheeze, 'did you just stomp at me? That was so cute.'

'No.' She lies immediately.

'Baby...'

'It was— it was an accident!'

You set the laptop aside at last, because honestly? That might have been the cutest sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

'Come here.' You say gently.

And the way her whole body perks up — tail-wagging energy without the tail — is enough to melt you entirely.

---

You finally close the laptop with a sigh that’s half relief, half defeat. Megan’s ears perk up instantly, like she’s been waiting for this moment all morning.

You pat your lap, and she practically dives in, folding herself against you with a thump that rattles your side. Her head rests on your chest, eyes bright and sparkling with that familiar mischievous glow.

'Oh, you little stinker,' you murmur, hands threading through her hair, rubbing the soft fluff at the nape of her neck. 'You really know how to get my attention, don’t you?'

She gives a small, pleased huff — the same half growl, half purr sound she always makes when she’s happy — and presses closer. Her body moulds into yours, warm and heavy in the best possible way.

You laugh softly, running a hand down her back, careful not to disturb the tiny, triumphant stomps she does with her feet against the carpet.

'You’re impossible,' you chuckle. 'But fine. I give up. Let’s go burn off some of this energy.'

The second you mention a walk, her eyes widen, tail wagging so hard it’s a blur, and she emits another deep, resonant hrrrrrmmmph — the same sound from before, but this time it’s joyous, letting loose all the tension she’d been holding in.

She stomps her little feet against the floor with excitement, each tiny stomp-stomp echoing like a happy drumbeat.

'Okay, okay! Calm down, we’ll get your leash,' you laugh, setting her up on her paws. Megan practically vibrates with anticipation, bouncing lightly on her toes, eyes darting between you and the front door. The happy stomps continue, a rhythm of pure joy and impatience that makes your heart ache with affection.

As you grab her leash, she nuzzles against your side, pressing her head under your hand. 'You’ve got me wrapped around your paw,' you murmur, ruffling her ears.

She responds with another hrrrrrmmmph, half human, half golden retriever, before spinning in a tiny circle in place, stomping her little feet like a drumroll of happiness.

Outside, the world is quiet, the morning sun soft against the pavement. Megan bounds ahead, leash taut for the first few steps before she remembers she’s tethered to you. But she’s careful — occasionally looking back, tongue lolling, eyes shining.

Every so often, she performs another tiny stompy stomp, releasing little huffs from her chest, clearly over the moon that she’s outside and moving and finally being the centre of your attention.

You can’t help but laugh, letting her lead the way down the street. Each stomp, each joyful groan, makes your heart feel impossibly full. You realise in that moment that Megan’s little quirks, her insistence, her stomps and huffs — they’re just another part of what makes her her, and you wouldn’t trade a second of it.

Her energy is contagious. By the time you round the corner and the trees sway gently in the breeze, Megan is bouncing beside you, tail a blur, stomping and groaning with pure, unfiltered happiness — and somehow, in that moment, all the work, all the stress, all the email deadlines feel impossibly far away.

After the walk, the two of you trudge back home, Megan happily trotting beside you, tongue lolling and tail wagging like a metronome of pure joy. By the time you step inside, the sun has shifted low in the sky, casting warm streaks of light across the living room.

Megan is practically vibrating with leftover energy from the walk, stomping lightly against the floor, little huffs escaping from her chest every few seconds.

You laugh softly. 'Alright, alright… I see you’re still full of beans. But now it’s time to chill, please.'

She responds with a soft groan, almost like she’s disappointed in the word 'chill' but complies anyway. You both collapse onto the couch, and she flops against you, body heavy and warm, settling across your lap. Her head rests on your chest, eyes half closed, still occasionally giving little contented stomps on the cushion.

You drape an arm around her, hand smoothing down her fur. 'You’re the best co-worker.' You murmur, smiling down at her. Megan huffs softly, her own version of a chuckle, and nuzzles closer.

You prop your laptop on her back, careful not to press too hard, and she shifts slightly, tail thumping lazily against the couch. 'Perfect.' You whisper, settling in. Megan doesn’t mind at all; if anything, she seems proud to be helping you finally get some work done.

Minutes stretch into peaceful quiet. Megan’s breathing slows, the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath your hands a comforting rhythm. Her little paws occasionally twitch in dream-filled movements, and now and then, a soft hrrrrrmmmph escapes her, muffled but unmistakable.

You glance down, smiling. 'Work can wait, though… this is way better.'

She lifts her head slightly, eyes meeting yours with a sleepy, satisfied gleam, before resting her chin back against your chest. You feel the warmth of her body, the steady weight that’s always grounding, and the little quirks that make her Megan — the stomps, the huffs, the insistence on attention — all melt into a perfect, cozy calm.

You keep your hands on her, fingers brushing through soft fur, and finally, with Megan draped across you, the laptop humming softly, you feel a sense of quiet happiness wash over you.

The world outside can wait. For now, there’s just warmth, love, and the comforting presence of your very favourite golden retriever hybrid.

“Megan!” you yelled, staring at the absolute disaster that was your dorm room floor. “Is that a fucking rabbit!?”

You pointed at the very dead animal lying on top of your laundry. Megan stood a few feet away, hair damp, hoodie half-zipped, looking way too proud of herself.

“Yeah,” she said casually. “It’s for you. Don’t mind the teeth marks though.”

You blinked at her. “You brought me roadkill.”

“It’s not roadkill,” she argued. “I caught it.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. You should’ve switched roommates when you had the chance.

You scrunched your nose. “It smells like wet dog in here.”

“Sorry,” Megan said, completely unbothered. “Me and Dani got caught in the rain when we were playing.” She shook herself off, and water sprayed directly onto you.

You froze.

“Megan.”

“What?”

“You just shook on me.”

She tilted her head like she genuinely didn’t understand the issue.

You grabbed a towel from your chair and shoved it at her. “Dry off. And get that thing off my side of the room.”

She quickly scooped the rabbit up and moved it to her desk like that somehow fixed everything.

Then she looked at you with wide eyes. “Do you like my gift?”

You glanced at the rabbit. Then at her hopeful face.

“Megan, I don’t drink rabbit blood.”

Her tail stopped moving immediately. “Oh.” She looked down at the floor.

There was a pause.

You softened a little. “It’s the thought that counts. So yes, I love it.”

Her head snapped back up. “Really?”

“Yes. I appreciate the effort.”

That was all she needed. Her tail started wagging again and before you could react, she launched herself at you.

You barely had time to brace yourself before she wrapped her arms around you and started licking your face.

“Megan, EWW—”

“You said you loved it!”

“I meant the gesture, not— stop licking me!”

She pulled back just enough to grin at you, canines slightly sharper than normal. “You’re smiling.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

You shoved her lightly. “Get off.”

She didn’t move far. Just enough to sit on your bed instead of on top of you. Her tail was still thumping against your mattress.

There was a quiet moment.

“You don’t like rabbits,” she said after a second.

“I mean, I like rabbits. Just… not like that.”

“So what do you drink?” she asked, serious now. “Like, if I wanted to get it right.”

You hesitated. Most people didn’t ask. They just assumed.

“Usually synthetic packs,” you said. “Or sometimes hospital donations. I don’t hunt.”

She nodded slowly, processing that. “So you don’t chase stuff.”

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

You gave her a look.

She grinned. “Okay, okay.”

She leaned back on her hands. “I just wanted to do something nice.”

“I know.” You glanced at her. “It was… sweet. In your own slightly concerning way.”

She smiled at that.

Then her nose twitched.

“What?” you asked.

She leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “You’re hungry.”

Your body stiffened. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” She tilted her head again, studying you. “Your scent changes.”

You hated that she could tell.

“It’s not a big deal,” you said quietly.

Without another word, she stood up and walked over to her mini fridge. She opened it, rummaged around, and pulled out a small insulated bag.

You frowned. “What is that?”

She walked back over and held it out to you.

Inside were two sealed blood packs.

You stared at her. “Where did you get those?”

“I asked around,” she shrugged. “Figured if I was going to live with a vampire, I should probably know how to feed one properly.”

Your chest felt weirdly tight.

“Megan…”

“I didn’t know your type,” she added quickly. “So I got O negative. Dani said that’s like… universal or something.”

You stared at her for a second longer than necessary.

“Thank you,” you said, quieter this time.

Her tail started wagging again, slower now.

“Sophia, she killed a rabbit,” you said flatly, dropping into the chair across from her.

Sophia didn’t even look surprised. She just laughed and took another sip of her drink. “You’ll get used to it. Daniela brings me dead animals all the time.”

“That’s not comforting,” you muttered. “How do you deal with the smell?”

She shrugged. “She still smells like a dog. It’s just… less shocking now.”

You groaned and leaned back. “I don’t think I can get used to that.”

Sophia gave you a look over the rim of her cup. “It’s not my fault you decided to become friends with benefits with a werewolf.”

“I didn’t plan it,” you defended. “It just happened.”

“‘It just happened,’” she repeated.

“You know drunk me and sober me don’t always agree,” you said. “I guess this time they did.”

She set her cup down. “Do you regret it?”

“Not at all,” you answered immediately.

Sophia raised an eyebrow.

You hesitated, then added, “She’s… cute sometimes.”

“Oh?” Sophia said slowly.

“Not like that,” you said quickly. “I mean— obviously like that, but not in a… serious way.”

“Mhm.”

You frowned. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That look.”

“I’m not looking at you any type of way.”

“Yes, you are.”

Sophia smiled slightly. “You’re smiling.”

You pressed your lips together. “She brought me blood packs after I told her I don’t drink rabbits.”

Sophia paused. “Okay. That’s actually kind of thoughtful.”

“Right?”

“And she listens?”

“Apparently.”

Sophia leaned back in her seat. “You’re in trouble.”

“I am not.”

“You’re defending her.”

“I’m being fair.”

“You called me because she killed a rabbit.”

“And I stand by that.”

Sophia laughed again. “Just admit you like her.”

“I do like her,” you said. “That’s the problem.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“It is when she sheds on my side of the room.”

Sophia waved her hand. “Buy a lint roller. You’ll survive.”

You sighed. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m not supposed to. I’m supposed to watch this unfold.”

“Wow. Great friend.”

She grinned. “Just don’t act surprised when your ‘friends with benefits’ starts acting like a girlfriend.”

● (fluff)

● (smut)

___

a/n: figured i need to feed my babies while working on the 3rd chapter of the domme sophia series

__ __ __ __

______

The world you live in has had humans and hybrids living side by side for generations now — same schools, same jobs, same grocery stores, same everything.

Basic facts get taught in middle school: dog hybrids are loyal and energetic, cat hybrids are independent and like warm spots, bunny hybrids are gentle, skittish, love soft things and sweet snacks.

That's it. Literally.

No one ever teaches you the specific little details, the weird biological quirks that no one talks about unless you're actually dating or sleeping with one.

Well, that ended up being the the main reason on how you exactly ended up making the worst (best) decision of your life when you filled out your university housing forms.

Because right at the bottom of the page just as you were finishing typing your details, a little pop‑up appeared:

"All human‑only rooms are currently full. Is it okay if we assign you a hybrid roommate? Please note: you will not be able to change rooms once assigned."

You clicked "YES" without even thinking. You have plenty of hybrid people in your life, you're friends with some, you're acquainted with many, it wasn't a problem to you at all.

So, not even a few minutes had passed when you immediately got notified that you were now rooming with a bunny hybrid.

A bunny hybrid?

Well, how bad could that be?

Bunny hybrids were supposed to be soft, quiet, harmless little things. You pictured coming home to someone who’d share carrot sticks with you, nap on the couch, and keep to themselves. You imagined a cute, fluffy roommate that your friends would coo over.

So, when you finally moved in... you absolutely, 100% did not expect to end up sharing a tiny 12x12 dorm room with Megan — a Holland Lop bunny hybrid who was 5'6 and a half of long, delicate limbs, lean figure, soft curves, and the most chaotic, shameless, horny little menace to ever walk the face of the earth.

First impressions were deceiving as hell.

Megan looked like an angel: tall and slender, no bulky muscle anywhere, just long graceful legs, smooth pale skin, and the prettiest face you'd ever seen. She had long, folded, velvety cream‑colored bunny ears that twitched and swiveled constantly like they picked up every sound within a 50‑meter radius, and a massive fluffy white cotton tail that stuck out from the back of her jeans or shorts no matter how hard she tried to tuck it away. Her nose also twitched nonstop, revealing those adorable whisker dimple. She's got big warm brown eyes that were always bright and shiny, and she smiled so sweetly at everyone that people would stop her in the hallway just to gush over how cute and polite she was.

Professors loved her, your friends thought she was the sweetest person alive, the dorm's RAs called her "the perfect tenant."

You knew better.

You learned the truth within the first 24 hours, and it only got worse from there.

Bunny hybrids were supposed to be calm?

Megan zoomed around the room at 7 AM like she'd chugged three energy drinks for breakfast, jumping over the bed, climbing on top of the desk, doing laps around the couch, thumping her feet loud enough that you were constantly getting passive‑aggressive notes slipped under your door from neighbors.

They were supposed to be shy?

She had zero sense of personal space whatsoever, constantly climbing all over you, stealing your hoodies, eating your snacks, and chattering your ear off about literally everything that crossed her mind.

They were supposed to be innocent?

Oh, no.

Fuck, no.

Megan was literally the biggest horndog you'd ever met, and her absolute favorite hobby in the entire world? Dry humping you. Everywhere. All the time. For literally no reason. And if that wasn't bad enough, she quickly figured out exactly how clueless you were about hybrid anatomy — and she started using it to her advantage to trick you into touching her in ways she definitely wasn't supposed to ask for.

 ______

It was mid‑semester, finals season was creeping up, and you'd dragged yourself to the university library at 10 AM with a giant stack of textbooks, determined to get at least some work done for once. You'd explicitly told Megan you were studying, told her to stay back at the dorm, told her you needed four whole hours of quiet and no chaos.

And of-fucking-course, twenty minutes later, you heard the soft patter of socked feet across the carpet.

You didn't even need to turn your head to know who was standing next to you.

You just knew.

You don't know whether it's because of her loud presence or the raging teenage hormones that was coming off of her, either way, you just knew that it was Megan.

And you were right.

Becauze there was, all in her glory, grinning wide and bright, holding a bag of baby carrots and a huge iced coffee, looking like she'd just won the lottery.

"Hi roomie~" Megan whispered way too loud, earning a sharp glare from the librarian at the front desk, which she completely ignored. "Bored without me, right? I knew you'd miss me."

"I told you I needed to study." You hissed, flipping open your notebook and trying to focus, already knowing this was going to be a disaster. "Go sit somewhere else, there's tons of empty tables."

"Nope!" She only chirped, plopping down directly across you, kicking her long legs out under the table so her feet bumped against yours every few seconds.

"This is the best table, right next to you. You're my favorite study buddy."

For the first fifteen minutes, you thought maybe, just maybe, she'd actually behave. She ate her carrots quietly, flipped through a random textbook, twitched her nose at every little sound, and every time you glanced over she was staring at you with big shiny eyes, like you were the most interesting thing in the whole room.

That lasted for a few good minutes until the slow invasion started.

First, she moved next to you, dragging her chair closer, so close your knees were knocking together under the table. You shifted away, she shifted right after you. Then she leaned forward across the table, resting her chin in her hands, staring at you like you were a puzzle she was trying to solve.

When you ignored her and kept writing, she slid her chair even closer, until she was practically pressed up against the side of your chair, her shoulder warm and firm against yours, her fluffy tail swishing slow and happy behind her, thumping soft little taps against the leg of your chair.

"Megan." You whispered, not looking up, face already heating up. "You have your own chair. Back up."

"But yours is comfier." She hummed innocently, tilting her head so her long velvety ear brushed against your cheek, making you jump. "And you're softer than any chair. C'mon, don't be mean."

Before you could argue, she stood up, and you thought for a second she was finally going to go sit somewhere else — until she swung one long leg over your lap, then the other, settling her full weight right on top of your thighs like it was the most normal thing in the world to do in the middle of the quietest room on campus. She was tall and lean, light enough that you could have easily lifted her off you if you wanted to, but she settled heavy and warm, her hips pressed perfectly right over yours, her chest brushing against your shoulder, her arms looping loose and lazy around your neck like she was just giving you a friendly hug.

Fucking hell.

You froze completely, pen hovering over your paper, heart beating so fast you were sure it was going to burst out of your chest. Your face burned so hot you were sure anyone walking by would be able to see how red you were, and you could feel every single inch of her pressed against you — her soft skin, her thick fluffy tail resting heavy against the back of your legs, her long legs bracketing your hips, her core sitting right over yours, separated only by two thin layers of clothing.

"Megan! What are you doing?!" You hissed, grabbing her waist to try and nudge her off, panic rising in your chest. "Get off, people are looking!"

"Let them look." She whispered back, sweet and unbothered, nuzzling her face right into the crook of your neck, breathing slow and deep like she was just relaxing. "I'm just being cozy! Everyone knows bunnies love to cuddle, no one's gonna think anything of it. You're just overreacting as usual."

And then she started moving.

Slow, subtle, deliberate, rolling her hips back and forth right over yours, soft and firm and steady, dragging the thick soft fabric of her shorts against you through your jeans, creating that maddening, perfect friction that made your toes curl and your brain turn to complete mush.

She kept her eyes half-lidded, her face calm and sweet, like she wasn’t basically dry-fucking you right in front of dozens of people, like she couldn't feel you getting hotter and shakier and more desperate by the second, like she didn't notice how tight you were gripping the edge of the table, how your breath was coming short and fast and shaky against her shoulder.

You tried to shift, tried to push her off, tried to make any movement at all, but she just tightened her arms around your neck and locked her ankles loosely behind your back, keeping you exactly where she wanted you, rolling her hips a little harder, a little slower, grinding right against that sensitive spot that made your whole body jolt every time she dragged over it.

This... perverted rabbit.

Megan only hummed a soft happy little sound against your throat, her tail wagging slow and heavy against your legs, thumping soft little taps that matched the rhythm of her hips.

"Relax roomie~" She murmured, turning her head to press a soft, sweet kiss right to the corner of your jaw, like she was just being affectionate. "You're so tense. I'm just helping you loosen up, isn't this nice? I liked this better than sitting in that hard boring chair."

Nice was not the word you would absolutely have used.

It was maddening, it was embarrassing.

It was so hot you felt like you were going to pass out right there.

Every slow drag of her hips against you sent shocks of pleasure shooting up your spine, making your pussy throb and ache, making you painfully aware of how wet you were getting, how easy it would be for her to feel it through all the layers. You were terrified someone would look over and see exactly what she was doing, terrified anyone would notice the way her hips moved, the way she was practically squirming on top of you, the way you were gripping her waist like you were holding on for dear life.

At one point, a group of students walked past your table, laughing and talking quietly, and Megan leaned even closer, pressing her chest flush against yours, grinding harder and slower against you, her nose nuzzling fast and messy against your neck like she was just being cuddly.

"Hi guys!" She called out cheerfully, waving at them over your shoulder like she wasn't making you completely lose your mind right now. "Yeah we're just studying! Isn't it so nice and quiet here? My favorite place to hang out with my favorite person!"

They smiled and waved back, cooing over how cute and sweet she was, how lucky you were to have such an affectionate roommate, and you just sat there red as a tomato, dying of embarrassment, wanting to push her away but also wanting to pull her closer, completely trapped by her chaos and her affection.

Are people here fucking blind?

When they finally walked away, Megan turned her head to grin at you, all smug and pleased, her ears twitching with amusement, her brown eyes dark and bright and knowing.

"See? Everyone loves me. They think I'm an angel. Only you know I'm a menace, huh?" She teased, her voice dropping low and rough and only for you to hear, grinding down harder, making you bite back a moan so hard your jaw ached.

"And I can feel how much you love it too. You're practically grinding back against me right now, baby. You like sitting here with me on your lap, like everyone seeing you're mine, like getting off on this as much as I do, don’t you? Like knowing I can make you fall apart anywhere, anytime, no matter where we are?"

You didn't answer, you couldn't answer, you just grabbed your stuff and practically ran out of the library the second she finally climbed off you, her loud bright laugh following you all the way down the hallway, knowing full well she'd won this round, and she'd be doing it again and again until you finally gave her exactly what she wanted.

______

After she got away with the dry-humping this for weeks, she quickly realized just how easy it was to tease you, and she started branching out, coming up with more and more ridiculous excuses to get you to touch her in all the most sensitive places. The next one was even more shameless, and even more effective, because you were completely clueless about hybrid anatomy.

It was a rainy Tuesday evening, you were sitting on the couch eating dinner and watching a movie, when Megan came bouncing into the room, ears drooping all the way down against her head, nose twitching fast and distressed, tail tucked tight between her legs, looking like she was in absolute agony.

She flopped down right next to you, leaning her whole weight against your side, letting out little soft whimpers that sounded so real you immediately put your bowl down, concerned as hell.

"Roomie..." She whined, pressing her face into your shoulder, her long ears dragging over your arm. "I wore my headphones too long during practice today, and my ears hurt so bad… the muscles and the nerves inside get all tight and sore, it's the worst pain ever, I can barely even move them. Can you help me? You're so good at making things feel better!"

You blinked, confused but sympathetic.

You'd never heard of ear muscles getting sore, but then again, you didn't know anything about bunny hybrid biology! "Oh, that sounds terrible. Yeah, sure I'll help! What do you want me to do?"

Megan immediately perked up just a tiny bit, her nose scrunching, her tail twitching like she was excited, but she kept up the perfect act, turning her head so her long velvety ears were resting right in your lap, turning the soft sensitive inner side up towards you. "Just rub them gently! Start at the base, right where they connect to my head, and stroke slow and soft all the way up to the tip. Don't press too hard, they're really tender right now, and be careful with the insides, that's where all the nerves are!"

You nodded, leaning down and gently resting your hands on her ears. They felt incredible — softer than the finest velvet, warm and smooth, covered in such delicate fine fur it felt like touching cloud. You started doing exactly what she said, rubbing slow gentle circles at the base, stroking light and careful all the way up, completely focused on being helpful and gentle, not noticing the way her whole body went rigid the second your fingers touched her.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth fell open in a silent gasp, her legs kicked out a little like she was trying to hold herself back, her tail went from limp to wagging so hard it smacked against the couch cushion over and over again.

Megan let out a shaky, breathy little moan that she quickly turned into a sigh, pressing her head harder into your lap, her whole body going soft and pliant under your touch.

"O‑oh— yeah… right there…" She mumbled, voice all wobbly and high, like she was struggling to speak. "That feels… so much better… you're doing it perfectly, don't stop…"

You didn't notice anything wrong. You just thought you were being a good friend, thought you were helping her with a real injury, thought that was just how it felt to have sore ears massaged. "Really? Good! Is it still hurting? Should I go slower? Or softer?"

"SOFTER! YES!" She yelped way too fast, then cleared her throat and lowered her voice, all sweet and innocent again, her cheeks and the insides of her ears flushed bright pink, glowing even through her fur. "I mean — yeah, softer is better! Bunny ears are super sensitive, way more sensitive than human skin, so light touches feel the best. You're amazing at this, seriously. I don't know what I'd do without you."

You sat there for almost twenty minutes, just rubbing and stroking her ears, completely unaware that for a bunny hybrid, the ears are sensitive — that touching them like that, gentle and slow and careful, was basically the equivalent of stimulation, that every little stroke sent electric shocks of pleasure racing through her whole body, making her soaked and throbbing and desperate, making her want to flip you over and fuck you right there on the couch.

You had no idea that she was biting her lip so hard she was almost drawing blood, that she was clenching her thighs together tight to try and get some friction, that she was holding back loud moans and whimpers the whole time, just so she could keep you touching her like that.

When you finally stopped, pulling your hands away and saying "hope that feels better now!", she let out a shaky, ragged breath, turning to look at you with eyes dark and blown out, pupils so big they almost swallowed up the brown, her face flushed bright red all the way down her neck. She looked like she'd just run a marathon, or just come really hard, and you just thought she was relaxed and tired from the pain.

"It… it feels way better." Megan breathed, voice rough and hoarse, grinning at you all shaky and satisfied. "You really are the best roomie ever. Seriously. I owe you big time."

You were completely clueless, completely unaware that you had basically edged your roommate, that you were driving her absolutely out of her mind with desire, that you were playing right into her little game.

______

One weekend, you and Megan invited all your friends over to the dorm for a movie night and snacks. Everyone was crowded into your tiny living room, sitting on the floor, the couch, the bed, eating pizza and candy, laughing and talking while some random comedy played on the TV.

You were sitting cross‑legged on the floor, near the couch, holding a plate of snacks, chatting with your friend, completely relaxed and having a good time — until you felt someone plop down right behind you, long legs bracketing your hips, arms wrapping tight around your waist, and a warm chest pressing flush against your back, a huge, comfy blanket draping over the both of you.

And, viola, you weren't even surprised anymore.

Megan rested her chin on your shoulder, nuzzling her face into the side of your neck, her fluffy tail swishing slow and happy, thumping soft little taps on the carpeted floor as she adjusted the blanket over both of your figures.

"Hi roomie~" She hummed loud enough for everyone to hear, all sweet and affectionate, like she was just being a cuddly friendly roommate. "You're so warm, can I sit here?"

"Megan there’s plenty of space over there on the couch." You said, trying to squirm away a little, already knowing exactly what was coming. "You don't have to sit right on top of me."

"Nope, this spot is mine now." She chirped, tightening her arms around you, and before you could say anything else, she started moving. Slow, steady, deliberate, rolling her hips back and forth right against your ass, pressing her core tight against your lower back, grinding soft and firm through both your clothes, right there in front of all your friends.

You froze completely, eyes going wide, face burning so hot you were sure everyone could see how red you were. You tried to nudge her, tried to push her away, tried to signal her to stop, but she just kept going, acting completely normal, laughing along with the conversation, answering people when they talked to her, smiling that sweet innocent smile, like she wasn't grinding on you right in front of everyone, like she couldn't feel you getting more and more flustered and turned on by the second.

When one of your friends turned to talk to you, Megan leaned even closer, grinding harder and slower against you, her nose twitching fast against your neck, her breath hot and damp against your skin. "Yeah she loves it when I sit like this, right roomie?" she said loud and cheerful, squeezing your waist gently, making you jump a little. "I'm just super clingy, it's a bunny thing! Can't help it when I'm around my favorite person."

Your friends all cooed and aw‑ed, saying how cute you two were, how sweet it was that she was so affectionate, how lucky you were to have such a nice roommate. No one suspected a thing, thinking that it was just harmless cuddling, no one realized how she was fully moving behind that thick blanket, that every slow drag of her hips against you was making your head spin, making your pussy throb and ache, making you have to bite your lip hard to stop yourself from making any sound that would give you away.

No one knew that Megan was grinding on you on purpose, that she was doing it just to tease you, just to make you desperate, just to show everyone that you were hers, even if neither of you had actually admitted it yet.

Halfway through the movie that night, you can't even catch a fucking break.

You felt her hand slip down, resting casually on your thigh, sliding slowly higher and higher until her fingers were brushing right over the front of your sweatpants, pressing light little touches right against your core, right where you were already aching and desperate. You gasped quietly, grabbing her wrist to stop her, and she just laughed soft and quiet against your ear, nipping gently at your lobe, her voice low and rough and only for you to hear.

"Relax, babe." She whispered, grinding harder against you, making you bite back a moan.

"No one's paying attention. Everyone thinks I'm just being cute and cuddly. Only you know what I'm doing, only you know how bad I want you right now… can feel how wet you are through your pants, baby, you're so easy for me. Love knowing I can turn you on just by touching you a little bit, just by being close to you."

You didn't know what to say, even if you do, you couldn't literally say anything, you just sat there for the rest of the night, trapped between your friends and your chaotic, horny bunny roommate, your mind completely blank, your body burning hot and desperate, knowing full well that once everyone left, she was never going to let you get away with this.

And sure enough, the second the door clicked shut behind the last person, Megan finally let go of you, leaving you in the living room to head to her bed with a sweet peck on your cheek and a teasing goodbye as if she hadn't just basically left you wet and burning.

______

After that whole fiasco, the next few days soon calmed down, and you could actually take a fucking breather finally. There were no grinding, no dry-humping, no teasing touches.

Thank god, honestly.

Though, that lasted only for a few more days until into the semester, Megan came limping into the room one afternoon, ears drooping low, tail tucked between her legs, putting on the most pathetic little act you'd ever seen. She flopped onto the couch next to you, big dark brown eyes wide and watery, nose twitching like she was in real pain.

Unbeknownst to you, after having her little fix of you massaging her ears innocently a few weeks ago, she figured on why not try out the most sensitive part of her, more sensitive than her ears even, her tail?

"Roomie~" She whined, soft and sweet, leaning her whole weight against your side. "I carried way too many textbooks back from the library, and my tail is so sore… the muscles back there are all tight and achy, it hurts so bad I can barely sit down. Can you help me? You're good at rubbing things!"

You, being the nice, clueless human you were, didn't think twice. She hadn't pull any tricks these past few days, she was actually behaving so, why not?

And you'd seen people rub each other’s sore shoulders or backs a million times, it was just a normal nice thing to do, plus, you already had experience from massaging her ears.

"Oh, yeah sure, no problem. Where does it hurt?"

Megan immediately perked up, ears shooting halfway up, tail twitching just a little like she was excited, but she kept up the act perfectly.

Yeah, she's gonna enjoy this.

She turned around, knelt on the couch, pushed her shorts down just enough to expose the base of her tail — soft, thick white fur covering warm, smooth skin, right above the curve of her ass. "Right here! All along the base, it's all tense and sore. Just rub it nice and slow, okay? Don't press too hard, it's really sensitive."

You nodded, leaning forward and gently resting your hands on the soft fluffy fur. It felt amazing — softer than any blanket or stuffed animal you'd ever touched, warm and smooth under your fingers. You started rubbing slow and gentle, exactly like you would if you were massaging someone's sore back, kneading carefully at the "tight muscles" she was talking about.

The second your hands touched her, Megan froze completely.

Her ears shot straight up in the air, stiff as boards, her dark eyes dilating, and her big fluffy tail went from limp to wagging so hard it smacked against your arm over and over again. She let out a weird high‑pitched little squeak, then immediately covered it up with a fake sigh, leaning back against your hands like it was the most relaxing thing in the world.

"O-oh– yeah… right there…" She mumbled, voice all wobbly and breathy, her whole body going soft and pliant under your touch. "That feels so much better… you're really good at this."

You didn't notice anything wrong. You were too busy thinking you were being a good roommate, feeling proud that you were helping her. "Really? Good! Is it still sore? Should I press harder?"

Megan's tail stiffened at that, squeezing her thighs as she tries to gather her bearings. She was sure that if you went harder, she'll probably gush all over the place.

"NO!" She yelped way too fast, again, then cleared her throat and lowered her voice, all sweet and innocent again. "N-No, soft is better! Bunnies have really soft skin and sensitive muscles, remember? I told you that before. Gentle touches are the best, it helps us relax. Keep doing exactly that, please..."

And, so you did.

You sat there for ten whole minutes, slow, gentle circles pressed right at the soft, fluffy base of her tail, completely unaware that for any bunny hybrid, that spot isn't just some random muscle group — it's one of their most erogenous, hyper‑sensitive zones, every nerve ending wired straight to pleasure, just as sensitive as a clit or the tip of a dick, maybe even more so. Touching it like this didn't feel like a soothing massage to her; it felt like you were deliberately teasing her, edging her so slow and steady it made her head spin, driving her absolutely out of her mind with need she couldn't do a single thing about.

You had no idea that every time your warm, rough fingertips brushed over that exact sweet spot, it sent sharp, electric shocks of pleasure shooting all the way up her spine, pooling hot and heavy low in her belly, making her pussy throb and ache and get so wet her underwear was already sticking uncomfortably to her swollen, aching folds. You didn't notice the way her breath caught every time you pressed just a little deeper, or how her hips would instinctively jerk back a tiny bit, chasing more of that perfect, maddening friction like she couldn't help herself, desperate for even a fraction more of the feeling you had no idea you were giving her.

You thought you were just being a good friend, helping work out a little stiffness from a long day — you had no clue you were touching the one part of her body that made her want to throw all her cute little innocent acts out the window, turn around, and climb right into your lap to grind against you until you both couldn't think straight.

Oh, and Megan?

She ate every single second of it up, absolutely drunk on how sweet and clueless you were, how good your hands felt on the one spot that made her lose all control.

She leaned her full weight back against your legs, letting her head loll back a little against the couch cushion, big brown eyes half‑lidded and glassy, dark with desire she tried so hard to pass off as relaxation. Her cheeks were flushed bright pink, the blush spreading all the way down her slender neck and even creeping up the insides of her long soft ears, turning the pale fur there a deep, warm rose color that gave her away if you'd only been paying attention.

God, she felt like she was in nirvana.

Soft, breathy little whimpers and shaky little hums kept falling from her parted lips, quiet enough that you just wrote them off as happy, relieved sounds, never guessing they were moans, pure and simple, pulled out of her by every little stroke of your fingers.

Every time you rubbed a little slower, or pressed a little firmer, or brushed your thumb right over the most sensitive little patch of skin hidden under all that fluff, she'd let out a tiny, breathless gasp and have to bite hard on her lower lip to keep from crying out too loud, squeezing her thighs tight together to try and get any kind of friction against her throbbing, soaked core that was aching for anything more you'd give her.

Her big fluffy white tail didn't just wag — it shook, thumping hard and fast against the couch cushions and your legs, so rough and constant the whole couch rocked back and forth a little under you, a dead giveaway of just how turned on and desperate she was, if you'd only known what to look for. Megan was dripping, burning, so close to begging you to never stop, so close to just turning around and pulling you down to kiss you until you got the hint, all while you sat there so calm and sweet, completely oblivious to the fact that you were playing her favorite game perfectly without even knowing the rules.

When you finally stopped and pulled your hands away, she let out a shaky little sigh, turning around to grin at you all bright and happy, like she hadn't just been sitting there getting off on your clueless kindness.

"Thank you so much! That helped so much, you're the best roomie ever~"

Megan chirped, bouncing off the couch like she'd never been in pain a day in her life, leaving you sitting there confused but pleased that you'd done something nice.

And that became her new favorite game.

She did it every single chance she got, making up the most ridiculous excuses every time:

"I sat on my tail during lecture and it's all stiff!"

"I tripped and fell on my butt, my tail hurts so bad!"

"It's cold outside and my tail muscles get tight when I'm chilly!"

"I thumped it too much earlier and now it's sore!"

Every. single. freaking. time.

She would keep asking you to rub it, and every single time you agreed, completely oblivious to what you were actually doing.

So, when once, you mentioned it to your friend while you were grabbing lunch, well...

Hell went loose.

"Megan keeps hurting her tail, it's weird. I have to massage it like every other day, I didn't know tails had muscles that get sore that often!" You murmured out, taking a bite out of your food as you started a topic, that unbeknownst to you, would start chaos.

Daniela, who happened to have grown up around hybrids, choked on her soda, staring at you like you'd just said the dumbest thing in the world. "Wait — you stupid bitch! You massage her tail? Girl… do you not know anything? For bunny hybrids, touching their tail is basically foreplay. That's like asking you to rub your clit and calling it a massage! She's tricking you! She's getting off on it!"

Rubbing your clit— what...?

You froze, food halfway to your mouth, eyes going wide. "WHAT?"

"Dead serious!" She cackled, had completely lost interest in her food because she apparently find your misery entertaining. "If you touch a bunny hybrid’s ears gently like that, it's basically the same thing as you jacking them off. They go feral over it. She is absolutely playing you, she's been horny for you this whole time and she's too much of a little tease to just say it! And the dry humping thing? That's literally how bunny hybrids flirt! They rub against things and people they like, it's their version of holding hands or kissing! She's been telling you she likes you this whole time, you were just too clueless to notice!"

Son of a bitch– it makes sense.

"Wait, wait! Hold the fuck on! How do you even know this stuff?!" You sputtered, face flushing red as you try to take control of the situation, pointing your fork at Daniela who was laughing non-stop.

"Um, duh. Sophia's a bunny hybrid too. A Mini Rex to be exact." Daniela murmured, rolling her eyes as if she was stating the obvious. "Gosh, keep up."

"Since when did Sophia became your girlfriend?! The fuck??" You exclaimed out, furrowing your eyebrows.

"Since we fucked." She only retorted simply up as she stuck her tongue at you, standing up to grab herself a drink and to also leave you to contemplate your awareness in life and your feelings for Megan.

Everything clicked all at once the more you think about it.

Every time she'd asked you to rub her tail or ears, every time she'd climbed into your lap or pressed herself against you, every time she'd teased you or acted clingy or got pouty when you gave other people attention — it all made sense now.

You thought she was really just horny, wanting to have some fun and you were her closest target because you're her roommate.

Clearly, you were wrong.

You felt like the biggest idiot in the world, but also, weirdly, your stomach was flipping, your heart was beating faster, and you realized you didn't mind at all. In fact, you'd been wanting it too, this whole time, you'd just been too scared and too clueless to admit it.

You stormed back to the dorm that afternoon, ready to confront her, but of course, as always, Megan was one step ahead.

She was sitting on the couch, eating carrots and watching TV, looking as innocent and sweet as ever, and the second you walked in she jumped up and ran over to you, wrapping her long arms around your waist and grinding slow and deliberate against your thigh right there in the middle of the room, like she knew exactly what you'd just found out and didn't even care.

"Hi roomie~" She hummed, all sweet and cheerful, nuzzling her face into your neck, her tail thumping happy and fast against your leg. "You're home early! Wanna help me with something later? My tail is feeling a little tight again.."

You opened your mouth to call her out, to yell at her for tricking you for weeks, but then you looked at her — tall, lean, pretty, looking up at you with big shiny dark brown eyes, her long soft ears twitching, her tail wiggling against you — and you realized something terrifying:

You didn't even mind.

In fact, you'd started looking forward to it.

You'd started looking for excuses to touch her, started noticing how good she smelled, how soft her fur was, how warm and solid she felt against you when she climbed into your lap. You'd spent months complaining about her being a menace, but the truth was you were just as obsessed with her as she was with you.

And of course, her favorite thing of all was still dry humping you, anywhere and everywhere, no matter who was watching or what you were doing. If you were standing in the tiny kitchenette making coffee at 8 AM? She'd sneak up behind you, wrap her long arms tight around your waist, press her whole tall slender body flush against your back, and grind slow and hard against your ass, resting her chin on your shoulder like she was just giving you a casual friendly hug.

If you were sitting on the couch watching a movie? She'd climb right over the back of it, practically falling on top of you, straddle your hips, and rock her hips back and forth against you steadily, her tail thumping fast and happy against the cushion, her nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck while you tried to act normal.

If you were just standing around talking to friends or classmates in the common room? She'd come bouncing over, push her face right into your shoulder, wrap one arm around your neck, and grind her thigh right between your legs in front of everyone, acting like she was just leaning on you for support. Once she even did it while you were brushing your teeth in the shared bathroom, pressing her front against your back and grinding slow while you spat out toothpaste and stared at her in the mirror, absolutely horrified, while she just winked and twitched her nose at you like she was the funniest person alive.

You tried everything to make her stop, especially in public.

You told her it was weird, it was inappropriate, it was embarrassing, it was driving you absolutely crazy. You tried pushing her away, she'd just come back five minutes later and do it harder. You tried putting pillows or blankets between you, she’d just throw them on the floor and keep grinding like nothing happened. You tried locking your bedroom door to get five minutes of peace, she'd just pick the lock — turns out bunny hybrids were built to squeeze through small spaces and get into places they weren't supposed to be, so a cheap dorm lock was nothing to her. You even tried wearing three layers of baggy clothes to stop the friction, and she just pulled your shirt up or slipped her hand under the waistband of your sweatpants, grinning all smug and pleased with herself like she'd just won some kind of game.

And the worst part? You liked it.

No, fuck it.

You loved it.

You love how she gets so territorial when you're talking to another person, you love how she keeps thinking that she was slick on getting you to try and touch her in not-so-innocent ways, you love how she's not aware that you're just playing along.

That you knew all the time.

That you want her just as much as she does to you.

_____

The games, the teasings, the pretending finally halted when it all came down to a head one lazy rainy Saturday afternoon where the dorm room had been filled with tension the whole damn day.

The sky was dark and gray, rain was pouring down against the window, and you were lying on your bed curled up under a blanket, scrolling through your phone and half asleep, when you felt the mattress dip next to you.

Before you could even open your eyes fully or sit up, Megan was climbing right over you, straddling your waist, her long legs locking tight around your hips to pin you gently in place.

She was wearing nothing but an oversized gray t‑shirt that fell mid‑thigh and tiny cotton shorts, her big fluffy ears flopping soft and messy around her face, her huge white tail swishing slow and excited behind her, thumping soft and steady against your legs.

Even sitting on top of you, she looked so soft and pretty — tall, slender, delicate, all long limbs and smooth skin and fluffy fur — that if someone walked in right now they'd probably think you were the one harassing her, not the other way around.

But you knew better.

You saw the way her eyes were dark and blown out, bright and hungry and completely focused on you, the way her cheeks and the insides of her long ears were flushed bright pink, the way her tail was twitching fast and messy as she breathed in your scent like she was starving for it.

"Megan, seriously." You groaned, already feeling your face heat up and your pulse pick up speed, knowing exactly what was coming.

You met her gaze, seeing the pure want in it that made your heart thump against your chest and heat flood between your legs.

Should you tell her?

You hesitated before swallowing, not averting your eyes away from her, not even a second as your tone took on a more series note.

"I... know exactly what you've been doing. I know you tricked me into rubbing your tail all those month... your ears... I know that's not a massage, and I know about why you kept dry-humping me... Had known for weeks now."

Megan didn't even look guilty.

She just grinned wide and cheeky, leaning down to press her whole chest flush against yours, her hands resting heavy and warm on your shoulders to keep you exactly where she wanted you. "Oh? You finally figured it out, huh? Took you long enough, dummy. You're so cute when you'e clueless."

"I've been basically screaming fuck me! want me! love me! these past few months and all you ever gave me was a tail job." She snickered, nuzzling against your shoulder.

"You're literally the worst person I have ever met." Blush crept from your face down to your neck at her words and instead of pushing her away, you tangled your hands in the soft fluffy fur at the base of her ears, scratching right there exactly how you knew drove her crazy, just to get some sort of revenge for your dignity.

The second your fingers touched her ears, oh, she was a goner.

Megan let out a loud, shaky moan, her eyes fluttering close, her whole body going limp and pliant on top of you. Her ears flopped completely back against her head, her tail started wagging so hard the whole bed shook, and she ground her hips down hard against yours, right against your core, making you gasp and buck your hips up against hers before you could even stop yourself.

"Fuuck..." She whined, high and desperate, her voice all wobbly and breathy. "Okay, okay, you got me! I'm a tease, I'm a liar, I'm obsessed with you! Happy now? God, that feels so good… please don't stop touching me, I'll do anything..."

"Yeah? You'll do anything?" You murmured softly, voice coming out a breathless whisper as your heart hammered against your chest at everything that's happening.

You swallowed again, running your hands down her long slender back, squeezing her soft waist, your fingers brushing right over the base of her tail just to make her shiver and cry out. "How about you stop teasing me and actually do something about it then? You've been grinding on me and tricking me into touching you for months, I think it's time you made it worth my while, don't you?"

Megan didn't even hesitated for a second.

She just went in for the kill.

She leaned down to kiss you, messy and deep and hungry, all tongue and teeth and heat, her hips never stopping their steady, perfect rhythm against yours. She tasted sweet, like strawberries and vanilla, and she smelled like rain and fresh hay and something uniquely her, making your head spin and your blood burn hot in your veins. She kissed you like she'd been waiting to do it for years, like she wanted to eat you alive, her long limbs wrapping tight around you, pressing every inch of her soft warm body against yours until you couldn't move or breathe or think about anything but her.

"Say less, roomie." She purred against your lips, grinding down harder, making you both moan loud and desperate into each other's mouths.

"I've been wanting to fuck you since the first day we moved in. You have no idea how many nights I laid in bed right over there, touching myself and thinking about you, thinking about how good it would feel to have you touch me everywhere, to have me touch you everywhere. You have no idea how crazy you make me, how wet I get just being near you, just thinking about you."

She didn't waste any time, yanking her t‑shirt over her head and tossing it across the room, then doing the same to your shirt and sweatpants, leaving you both in just your underwear, skin to skin, warm and bare and desperate. You ran your hands all over her body, marveling at how soft and smooth she was, how perfect her long lean limbs felt under your touch, how her skin got even warmer wherever you touched her.

Good heavens.

You touched the base of her tail again, just light and gentle, and she cried out loud and sharp, her whole body arching against yours, her legs wrapping tight around your waist.

"Right there– fuck, right there, that's the spot!" She babbled, breathless and desperate, grinding her pussy hard against your covered core, the friction perfect and burning hot, sending shocks of pleasure shooting up your spine that made your toes curl and your head spin. "That's my favorite spot, you have no idea how good it feels when you touch me there… every time you massaged me before I was so close to cumming right there on your hands, I had to bite my lip so hard I almost drew blood..."

You reached between your bodies, sliding your hand into her underwear, and gasped when you felt how wet she was — soaked, dripping, her pussy hot and swollen and throbbing just from touching her ears and tail, just from grinding against you for a few minutes.

"God, Megan… you're so wet… you really were this desperate for me this whole time, weren't you?"

"Mhm..." She whined, nodding fast and eager, her eyes rolling back when you ran your fingers through her folds, circling her clit slow and firm. "Always… every single day… every time I'm near you I get like this, I can't help it! Bunny instincts remember? We're horny little creatures, and you're the only person I want, the only person that makes me feel like this."

"More, more..." Megan was practically grinding against your hand, seemingly in a dilemma where she can't decide if she's going to push her ass back into your hand that was fondling her tail or if she's going to rub herself more forward against your fingers.

Most delicious problem she had ever had in her life.

"Fuck, I need to feel you more." She halted your movements, pulling off your underwear in one quick motion, then pushed you back against the pillows, climbing between your legs after getting rid of every pesky clothing in the way, her long slender body hovering over yours, her big brown eyes dark and hungry and completely focused on you.

Oh.

You have a feeling you were going to enjoy everything that's going to happen from this point.

Megan ran her hands all over your body, touching every inch of you like she wanted to memorize every curve, every spot that made you gasp or shiver or moan, teasing you just like she always did, even now.

"Look at you." She teased, her voice rough and hot and so cocky that it made your stomach flip. "All wet and desperate just for me, just from me touching you a little bit. You're just as bad as I am, aren't you? You love it when I grind on you, you love it when I trick you into touching me, you're just as needy as me, if not , even more, you know?"

"Shut up and fuck me, Megan." You groaned, pulling her down closer, tangling your hands in her soft hair, scratching right behind her ears just to make her melt. "Or I'll make you beg for it."

She laughed loud and bright, grinding her pussy right against yours, sliding through your wet folds perfectly, the friction burning hot and perfect, making you both cry out and cling tight to each other. "Ooh, scary~ I'd like to see you try. But fine, since you asked so nicely."

She lined herself up, slotting her legs between yours, then pushed against you in a slow and thorough grind, making you throw your head back and moan loudly, your nails digging into her back hard enough to leave marks. She felt amazing — warm, soft, slick, moving with a perfect steady rhythm, every grind hitting exactly the right spot, as you forgot every thought in your head except her name.

Her long limbs wrapped tight around you, her body pressing heavy and warm against yours, her ears twitching and swiveling every time you made a sound, her tail wagging fast and frantic behind her, thumping hard as it twitched erratically.

She used every single one of her bunny traits to make this feel as good as possible, driving you absolutely crazy. She was faster and more agile than any human, her stamina endless, able to keep moving hard and fast for what felt like hours without getting tired. She was way more sensitive too — every time you touched her ears or her tail, she cried out loud and sharp, her cunt getting more slick and wet against you, her hips snapping faster and harder against yours, her whole body trembling with pleasure.

She made the sweetest, dirtiest sounds you'd ever heard — soft whimpers, loud moans, breathy little whines, your name falling from her lips over and over like a prayer, mixed with teasing little comments that made it even hotter.

"Feel good, roomie?" Megan purred, leaning down to kiss and bite at your neck and shoulders, marking you up bright and dark so everyone would know you were hers.

"You feel so good against me, so tight and warm and perfect… I could fuck you all day every day and never get tired. You're made for me, aren't you? Made just for my little bunny instincts."

"God, yes..." You sobbed, clinging tight to her, meeting every grind with a sharp buck of your own hips, chasing that perfect burning pleasure that was building fast and deep in your stomach. "You feel so good, Megan. So perfect, I love it... fuck, I'm close.."

You bit your lower lip, eyes closing as you clung against her, hips wildly bucking against each other while your hand squeezed her tail, eliciting a loud whimper to slip out of her mouth.

"Me too, baby, me too.." She moaned, speeding up, her hips snapping fast and hard against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the quiet room, mixed with your loud desperate moans and the scent of sex. "Cum for me, baby, cum all over me, I wanna feel you fall apart for me…"

Megan leaned down and bit down soft and hard right over your pulse point, sending a shock of pleasure shooting through your whole body that pushed you right over the edge. You cried out her name loud and long, your whole body shaking and trembling, cumming hard and messy around her, your vision going white for a second as pleasure crashed over you in wave after wave.

Megan followed right behind you, crying out loud and high, her ears pinning flat back against her head, her tail going stiff and trembling hard. Her pussy grounded down against you as she came, her whole body going limp and pliant on top of you, her hips stuttering slow and gentle against yours to ride you both through the aftershocks.

Both of your thighs were a mess, your mixed release and slick glistening against your skin, hips grinding lazily to ride out your orgasms.

She collapsed on top of you, breathing hard and heavy, her face buried in the crook of your neck, her long limbs still wrapped tight around you, her tail twitching soft and happy. You ran your hands through her soft hair, scratching gently behind her ears just like you always did, and she hummed happily, nuzzling closer to you, pressing soft lazy kisses all over your neck and jaw.

"Told you so.." Megan mumbled against your skin, voice all sleepy and satisfied, grinning cheekily against you. "Best roommate ever, right? Worth all the trouble, huh?"

You laughed breathlessly, rolling your eyes but pulling her even closer, kissing the top of her head, completely and totally happy. "You're practically a perverted old man trapped in a hot woman's body."

"The fuck?" Megan huffed, lifting her head to look at you. "Don't compare me to an old man after I just literally scissored the fuck out of you."

You only chuckled tiredly, pressing a soft chaste kiss on her lips because you can't even argue back at this point, too blissed out to banter. "Yeah, yeah.."

Megan only let out a convinced hum against your mouth, lips lazily glinding against yours before she pulled back a bit, resting her forehead against yours. "Psh, you like it when I'm perverted, don't lie. You'd be so bored and lonely without me. You love my chaos, you love my humping, you love my sore tail massages. You love me."

"Shut up." You only grunted softly, your heart responding for you as it thumped inside your ribcage, beating wildly for the horny rabbit hybrid on top of you.

"Alright, cool then."

......

.....

....

...

"I'm gonna cry..."

"Fine, I love you."

"I love you too~"