“What else could you possibly want from me?” Mattheo’s voice cracked like thunder through the empty Slytherin common room, low and dangerous. The firelight flickered across his sharp features, casting harsh shadows under his cheekbones and turning his dark eyes molten.

Your blood was already boiling. Heat flared across your cheeks as you whipped around to face him, the argument that had erupted ten minutes ago having successfully driven every last person from the room. No one was surprised anymore. Most were shocked the two of you were still together at all.

“I want you to try,” you snarled, eyes narrowed into slits. “You put zero fucking effort into this relationship. You just expect me to stay, to keep forgiving you, like it’s all just going to magically work itself out.”

Mattheo’s jaw clenched so tightly you could see the muscle jump. He stalked toward you, tall and predatory, until the heat of his body bled into yours. “Maybe if you weren’t constantly riding my ass about every little thing, I would want to fucking try.”

The words landed like a slap. You hid the sharp pang in your chest, shoving hard at his shoulders instead. “Yeah? Then why don’t you just leave?” Your teeth ground together, tears stinging hot at the corners of your eyes no matter how viciously you tried to blink them away. You spun on your heel, making it only a few furious steps before his fingers locked around your wrist like a vice.

He yanked you back and shoved you onto the sofa. Your back hit the velvet cushions with a soft thud, anger and hurt pulsing wildly through your veins. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you snapped, chest heaving.

“Just shut up for once,” Mattheo growled. His hands were already moving, furious and impatient. He popped the button of your shorts open with a sharp tug, dragging the fabric down your legs along with your panties in one rough motion. Cool air kissed your bare pussy, making you acutely aware of how shamefully wet you already were.

You didn’t stop him. You told yourself it was pure fury. That you were too angry to push him away, to let him win, but your body betrayed you. Instead of fighting, you glared up at his stupid, beautiful face, lips pressed into a tight line so you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing any noise you make.

Mattheo made a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat as he stared at your dripping cunt. The hungry noise sent an involuntary roll through your hips, your body arching toward him before you could stop it.

“Maybe I should leave,” he muttered darkly, even as his fingers dug bruisingly into your hips, yanking you to the edge of the cushions. The thick, flushed head of his cock nudged against your slick folds, teasing your entrance with shallow, torturous rubs that coated him in your arousal.

“Then go,” you said coldly, keeping your face like stone. You crossed your arms over your chest, the motion deliberately pushing your breasts higher in the thin tank top, the soft swell of your cleavage drawing his hungry gaze like a magnet. You turned your head to the side, staring hard at the stone wall instead of his stupidly perfect face.

Why does he have to look so infuriatingly handsome even when you hate him?

Mattheo’s hips rolled faster, rutting his thick cock along your sticky folds with increasing pressure. A low, amused chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Aw, who would fuck you then?” The smug lilt in his voice made you want to slap the smirk right off his lips.

You forced a sweet, venomous smile instead. “I’m sure I could find someone, they’d probably be better than you.”

His eyes flashed with dark possessiveness. In one sharp motion he gripped your thighs, spreading you wide open and slammed into you to the hilt. The sudden, burning stretch ripped a choked moan from your traitor throat as your walls clenched greedily around his cock, every thick inch dragging against your sensitive inner walls.

“Better than me?” Mattheo snarled, pulling out almost completely only to thrust back in harder, setting a punishing rhythm. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed through the empty common room, filthy and loud. “No one else gets this pussy this fucking wet. No one else makes you shake like this.”

You bite your lip hard, trying to hold back the desperate sounds climbing up your throat, but each deep stroke punched the air from your lungs. Pleasure sparked hot and electric up your spine. Still, you refused to give in completely.

“Maybe they wouldn’t talk so fucking much,” you shot back breathlessly, nails digging into his forearms as you rocked your hips up to meet his brutal thrusts. Your tank top had ridden up, exposing the underside of your breasts, and Mattheo’s gaze kept dropping to the way they bounced with every fast snap of his hips.

He leaned down, teeth grazing your jaw before biting down on the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “Such a bitch,” he growled against your skin, the word vibrating through you. One hand shoved your top higher, palming your breast, his thumb flicking over your hardened nipple. “You’re dripping down my cock and still trying to pick a fight. So fucking stubborn.”

“Fuck—you—” The insult fractured into an accidental moan as he angled his hips and hit a devastatingly good spot inside you again and again. Your back arched off the cushions, pussy fluttering and squeezing around him. Heat coiled tighter and tighter in your belly, threatening to snap at any given moment.

Mattheo’s pace turned feral, the couch creaking beneath you both as if you couldn’t be walked in on at anytime. Sweat slicked your joined bodies, the air thick with the musky scent of sex and the crackling fire. He pinched your nipple hard, making you cry out, then soothed it with a rough swipe of his thumb.

God, he was fucking huge. No matter how furious you were, your mind kept slipping under the relentless stretch of his thick cock splitting you open. Your heavy-lidded eyes locked onto his dark, burning gaze. The lewd, wet sounds of him pounding in and out of your dripping hole filled the room like filthy music, obscene squelching mixed with the sharp smack of his balls hitting your ass.

He bottomed out on every savage thrust, his hand sliding up to wrap around your throat, pressing just enough pressure against your throbbing pulse to make your head spin. The controlled dominance sent sparks racing through your veins.

“Say it again,” he growled, voice rough and dangerous, thumb stroking the side of your neck. “Say how you’ll fuck someone else while I’m buried in your fucking guts, baby.”

With his free hand he hooked one of your legs higher, looping it around his hip. The new angle forced his fat cock impossibly deeper, the head dragging against that devastating spot inside you with every stroke. The intense fullness was overwhelming. You instinctively tried to squirm away, your body attempting to escape the overwhelming pressure but he held you still, giving you nowhere to go.

“Maybe if I fuck someone else,” you gasped out between broken moans, nails raking down his back, “you’d finally try harder—”

Mattheo’s grip on your throat tightened fractionally, a dark, possessive snarl tearing from his lips. He slammed into you harder, hips snapping with punishing force, driving his cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

“Bullshit,” he hissed, leaning down until his forehead nearly touched yours, sweat dripping from his hair onto your chest. “Fuck someone else and see what happens to them, you’re all mine even if you’re fucking crazy.”

Your back arched violently off the cushions as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, white-hot and vicious. Every brutal thrust sent shockwaves through your body. Your walls fluttered and squeezed around his thick length, the wet sounds growing messier, louder, as your arousal dripped down your thighs and onto the velvet beneath you.

“I—fucking—hate—you,” you managed to choke out between broken moans, the words slurring as your mind frayed at the edges.

Mattheo let out a deep, dark chuckle that vibrated against your sweat-slicked skin. Drool slipped from the corner of your parted lips as he fucked you even harder, the wet slap of his hips against your ass echoing through the room. A satisfied, almost cruel smirk tugged at his mouth when your eyes rolled back, his bitchy, stubborn girl finally fucked dumb — even if you were still trying to fight him with words.

“I know you do,” he purred, voice low and rough with lust. His hand stayed firm around your throat, thumb pressing just right against your pulse. “Cum for me anyway, princess.”

The condescending endearment, paired with the relentless drag of his fat cock against that perfect spot inside you and the tight press of his thumb pressing against your clit, finally shattered you completely.

Your orgasm crashed over you like lightning. A sharp, broken cry tore from your throat as your pussy clenched violently around him, pulsing and fluttering in powerful waves. Pleasure ripped through every nerve, white-hot and overwhelming. Your thighs shook uncontrollably, toes curling, while fresh slick gushed around his cock with every deep, punishing thrust. Drool trailed down your chin. Tears slipped from the corners of your eyes as you came hard, soaking him and the couch beneath you.

Mattheo’s thrusts stayed punishing even as your legs shook violently around his waist, your glassy, unfocused eyes finally dragging back to his. His hand loosened slightly on your throat, keeping just enough to keep your gaze locked on him while his other hand left your throbbing clit to cradle your jaw. His calloused thumb swiped slowly across your wet bottom lip, smearing the drool there.

“I would try harder if you’d just give me a fucking chance, you know? I am trying, but you just see everything I’m doing wrong.” His voice was still rough with anger, matching the fire in your chest, but his eyes had softened as he stared into your wrecked, fucked-out expression. “You think I want to lose you?”

A low, broken moan slipped from his lips when your sensitive walls clenched weakly around him again. The sound sent fresh heat licking across your skin, even as your abused cunt fluttered in protest at the overwhelming fullness.

“I can’t fucking stand you most of the time,” he rasped, hips snapping forward in one final, deep thrust that made you yelp, “but I love you all the time. So please—” Another hard thrust cut off his own words. “Give me a fucking fair chance.”

He bottomed out one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go. His full weight crashed down onto you as broken, guttural moans spilled hot against your ear. You felt his thick cock throb and swell inside your slick heat, pulsing as thick ropes of cum flooded your belly. The warmth of it filled you until you felt swollen and claimed, his spend leaking out around his length with every twitch of your overstimulated walls.

Mattheo gave a few more weak, lazy thrusts, grinding his cum deeper as he rode out the last shocks of his orgasm. Only when he finally began to soften did he still, staying buried inside your twitching pussy.

He lifted his head, dark eyes searching yours for a long moment. Then he pressed a surprisingly sweet, lingering kiss to your sweaty forehead, his breath warm against your skin.

A frustrated huff escapes your swollen lips as your hips roll desperately against him, chasing the hard outline of his cock through those damn grey sweatpants. He denies you again with a low chuckle, shifting just enough to keep you aching and empty. Tears of pure frustration prick at the corners of your eyes, blurring the sharp lines of his face.

You hated this game—his game.

He’d been tormenting you all day, strutting around the house in that skin-tight black compression shirt that clung to every ridge of muscle in his chest and arms, the fabric stretched so obscenely it left nothing to the imagination. The grey sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips, the thick bulge of his cock clearly visible with no underwear to restrain it. He knew exactly what phase of your cycle you were in, knew how fucking needy it made you, and he’d weaponized it perfectly.

Now you were crying on his lap, soaked arousal dripping down your inner thighs in hot, slick trails, your skin burning like fever. Every brush of his fingers along your waist, every teasing grind of his hips, sent sparks straight to your throbbing clit.

“P-Please, Matty,” you whimpered, voice cracking.

He tsked softly, disapproval curling his lips as he leaned in. His mouth brushed yours in a feather-light kiss, his breath warm and tasting faintly of mint and sin. When you tried to chase his mouth and deepen it, he pulled back with that wicked, knowing smirk that made your stomach flip.

“Not good enough, baby. Try again.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, cheeks burning with embarrassment and need. Why was it so hard to say the words? He had no problem growling filthy demands in your ear anywhere anytime, telling you how badly he wanted your thighs clamped around his head while he devoured your dripping cunt. Yet here you were, in your own home, sitting on your husband’s lap, soaked and shaking, struggling to beg for what you craved.

“I-I can’t,” you sniffle, the heat of humiliation crawling up your neck. Fresh tears threaten to spill as you shift, ready to climb off his lap and spend the rest of the day painfully empty and dripping. Your wide, glassy eyes flutter open and lock onto his. That desperate, watery puppy-dog look always hits him hard and he nearly cracks right then, jaw tightening as his cock twitches beneath you.

He hated seeing you like this: needy, aching, his, and not letting him fix it. But he needed the words. He needed you to own it.

You’d been married for years. He’d bury his face between your thighs for hours if you asked, fuck you raw until you couldn’t walk, fill you so deep you’d still feel him the next morning. Yet too often it felt one-sided in bed—him chasing, him begging, him devouring you while you stayed shy and quiet.

“I-I’m too embarrassed,” you whisper, sniffling again. The sound tugs sharply at his chest. His body slumps just slightly as you try to slide off his lap.

A strong, calloused hand clamps down on your waist, fingers digging into your soft skin with enough pressure to hold you firmly in place. The playful glint in his dark eyes fades, replaced by something hotter, darker—frustrated hunger edged with dominance.

“I am your husband,” he growls, voice low and rough, vibrating through your core. “I’m not going to run off and tell my friends what my wife begs for in bed. I just want to hear you say it—‘Please fuck me,’ or ‘I want your mouth on my pussy.’ I’m not asking for much, baby.” His grip tightens, pulling you harder against the thick, throbbing length of his cock straining through the thin grey fabric. “Until I get it, we’re both staying right here.”

“I want you to kiss me,” you whisper, voice tiny and trembling behind the cutest little sniffles.

Mattheo barely has time to savor the victory before his mouth crashes against yours, warm and demanding. He yanks your chest flush to his, the hard planes of muscle beneath his compression shirt pressing into your softer curves. He still denies you any real friction below, but the moment your lips part on a gasp, his tongue slides in deep, slow, and filthy. The kiss quickly turns hungry, his hands roaming your back, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you impossibly closer, devouring every soft whimper.

When he finally pulls back, he nearly groans at the sight of you. Your eyes still closed, swollen lips parted, cheeks flushed. The restraint he’s exercising is fucking torture; his cock is painfully hard, throbbing against the soaked fabric of his sweatpants, threatening blue balls if he doesn’t get inside you soon.

“What else, baby?” His voice is rough, strained.

Frustration flickers again as your face burns crimson. You bite your bottom lip hard, visibly fighting yourself to get the words out.

“Want your… your mouth, please.”

“My mouth where?” A dark, amused chuckle rumbles from his chest when you huff again, narrowing those glossy eyes at him in the most adorable pout.

“My—my chest,” you manage, voice barely above a whisper.

The request surprises him. He’d expected you to go straight for your orgasm, but your breasts had been heavy and aching all day, swollen from ovulation and begging for attention.

“C-Can I please rub against you? Please?” Your big, pleading eyes nearly undo him.

He answers with a low grunt, strong hands gripping your hips and dragging your soaked panties directly onto his lap. The first hot, slippery press of your drenched cunt against the thick ridge of his cock pulls a filthy moan from your throat. You yank your shirt over your head in one desperate motion, letting your full, heavy breasts spill free, nipples already tight and aching.

Mattheo licks his lips slowly, eyes darkening with hunger as he stares up at you. He leans in, mouth latching onto one sensitive peak. The wet heat of his tongue swirls around your nipple before he sucks hard, teeth grazing just enough to make you jolt. His hands knead and squeeze the soft, swollen flesh while your hips rut frantically against him. Your arousal soaks through his sweatpants in messy streaks, the hard ridge of his cock grinding perfectly against your swollen clit with every desperate roll.

“W-want to cum—ah, please, daddy,” you gasp, voice breaking.

“Good girl. Go on, take what you want,” he rasps.

The words barely leave his mouth before your body obeys. Your thighs tense, legs trembling violently as your toes curl tight. Your head falls back with a long, broken moan that vibrates through the room—raw and needy enough to nearly make Mattheo spill in his sweatpants like a fucking teenager. His grip on your hip tightens, guiding your frantic movements, forcing you to grind harder and faster along his thick cock until your orgasm crashes over you.

Pleasure rips through your core in pulsing waves, your cunt clenching around nothing as slick arousal floods his lap. But the release does nothing to quench the fire. Your skin still burns, fever-hot and oversensitive, your empty pussy throbbing with fresh, desperate need.

Too worked up to feel shy anymore, you surge forward, crashing your mouth against his in a messy, hungry kiss. “Fuck me,” you plead against his lips, voice wrecked. “Please, I need you to fuck me.”

The sinful groan that tears from Mattheo’s throat is pure sex. He doesn’t make you ask twice. He doesn’t even bother standing up or shoving his sweatpants all the way down. With one rough yank, he hooks your soaked panties to the side, groaning deeply at the obscene amount of slick coating them and the way your dripping folds part so eagerly for him.

In the next breath, he pulls you down hard, burying his thick, aching cock inside you in one powerful thrust.

A broken cry tears from your throat. He’s so deep, stretching you wide, the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix with every inch he forces in. The size of him always borders on too much, especially when you’re this swollen and sensitive, but today it’s perfect. Your walls flutter and clench around the heavy girth, trying to adjust as slick heat gushes around him.

“Fuck, baby,” Mattheo groans, voice wrecked. “So fucking tight. Look at you, my pretty wife.”

He doesn’t give you time to breathe. His hands grip your hips bruisingly as he fucks up into you with deep, punishing strokes, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. Each thrust sends sparks shooting up your spine. The overstimulation hits fast, your previous orgasm still pulsing through you and making every drag of his thick cock feel electric and overwhelming.

“Too much—Matty, s’too much,” you whimper, even as your hips roll down to meet him, chasing more.

“Yeah?” He smirks, dark eyes gleaming with pride and lust. “Then why is your greedy little cunt sucking me in deeper?” He thrusts harder, grinding up so the base of his cock rubs against your swollen clit. “You’ve been dripping for me all day, princess. Let it out. Give me everything.”

Pleasure borders on pain, but you crave it. Your second orgasm builds embarrassingly fast, coiling tighter and tighter until you’re shaking.

“I want you to touch me here,” you gasp desperately. Grabbing his wrist, you drag his hand between your bodies and press his fingers against your throbbing clit. “Please—”

Mattheo’s groan is pure sin. “That’s my good girl. So fucking needy for Daddy’s cock and his fingers.” He circles your clit with practiced pressure while his hips snap up harder, driving his cock impossibly deeper with every thrust. The dual sensation is devastating.

“Come on, baby. Give me another one. I want to feel you fall apart again.”

Your second orgasm explodes through you without warning. Your whole body seizes, thighs shaking violently as your cunt clamps down around his thick length. A raw, broken moan rips from your chest. The pent-up need from the entire day finally snaps.

You squirt hard, hot slick gushing around his cock and soaking his sweatpants, your thighs, and the couch beneath you. The release is messy and overwhelming, wave after wave crashing through you as he keeps fucking you through it, never slowing.

“Fuck yes,” Mattheo growls, voice thick with pride. “That’s it, princess. Soaking my cock like a good little wife. Look how pretty you are when you fall apart for me.” His fingers keep rubbing tight circles over your oversensitive clit, drawing out every last shudder while he thrusts deeper, chasing his own release. “You’re not done yet, are you? I can feel how badly you still need it.”

Your body is spent. Your limbs heavy and trembling, skin slick with sweat, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Every nerve feels raw and overstimulated, yet your hips still weakly roll against him, chasing that final edge.

Mattheo doesn’t slow. If anything, he fucks you harder, driving his thick cock into your fluttering, soaked cunt with deep, possessive strokes. The wet, obscene sounds of your combined arousal fill the room as he grinds up into you, the head of his cock pressing right against that sensitive spot deep inside with every thrust.

“One more, princess,” he growls against your neck, voice hoarse. “Give me one more. I know you can.”

You shake your head weakly, tears of overwhelming pleasure slipping down your cheeks. “Can’t—Matty, sensitive… too much—”

But your body betrays you. His relentless pace and the way his fingers keep working your swollen clit push you over the edge again. Your third orgasm hits slower but deeper this time, a devastating wave that rolls through your exhausted body. You cry out, walls pulsing and clenching rhythmically around his cock as fresh slick gushes out around him. Your thighs quiver uncontrollably, muscles giving out as you slump heavily against his chest.

Mattheo moans freely raw, filthy sounds spilling from his lips as his hips stutter. He yanks you down as close as physically possible, burying himself to the hilt while his cock throbs and pulses inside you. Thick ropes of hot cum flood your sensitive walls, pumping you full with every twitch of his hips. He doesn’t pull out, doesn’t care how dangerously fertile you are right now, ovulation making your body greedy and ripe. He just holds you there, grinding deep as he empties every drop into your clenching cunt.

“Fuck… take it all, baby,” he groans, voice wrecked with pleasure. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy until it’s dripping with me.”

For a long moment, the only sounds are your shared heavy breathing and the faint, wet sounds of his cum leaking around where you’re still joined. His arms wrap around you tightly, one hand stroking soothingly up and down your back as you tremble in his lap.

He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your temple, the dominance melting into something warmer.

The three-year-old’s voice came out in a deadpan drawl as he tugged insistently at your pant leg. Teddy’s chubby fingers left sticky trails of spaghetti sauce across the fabric, the tangy, garlicky scent rising up with every shift of his small body. His big blue eyes stared up at you with unblinking expectation. A smear of red sauce streaked his cheek, and he rubbed his runny nose against your thigh without a hint of shame, leaving a wet, snotty streak that made you wrinkle your nose in disgust.

You’d agreed to watch Theo’s son for a “boys’ day” outing, but little Teddy still didn’t understand why he’d been left behind. Six hours ago he’d been thrilled to have you all to himself. Now the excitement had curdled into restless energy, and your clothes were covered in a collage of toddler fluids: sauce, paint, bubble solution, and whatever else he’d managed to smear on you during the long afternoon.

“They’ll be back soon, buddy,” you promised, ruffling his soft brown hair. The strands were slightly damp with sweat from running around in the August heat. His delighted giggle bubbled up, bright and infectious, and for a moment it almost erased the deep ache settling into your shoulders and lower back.

Almost.

The kid didn’t nap. Not once.

He’d colored on every available surface, attacked a stack of blank paper with aggressive strokes of finger paint, devoured everything edible you’d put in front of him, demanded story after story until your voice grew hoarse, and sat outside in the warm golden sunlight blowing iridescent bubbles that popped against your skin like cool, fleeting kisses. Yet no matter how many quiet songs you sang or how gently you rocked him, sleep never came.

“You said that a long time ago too!” Teddy accused, planting his sauce-covered hands on his hips in a perfect imitation of his father’s dramatic flair.

You leaned down and scooped him into your arms, peppering loud, playful kisses across his sauce-streaked cheeks and messy brown hair. His giggles spilled out in a bright, endless string, the sound bouncing off the kitchen walls like pure sunshine. The dramatic protest forming on his lips died instantly when the front door handle jiggled. His whole little body twisted toward the sound, eyes wide with hope.

Mattheo stepped in first, pausing in the doorway. His dark eyes widened at the glorious mess you’d become. The sauce smears, paint streaks, and exhaustion written across your clothes and skin. A slow, devastating grin spread over his handsome face. He arched a single brow at you and chuckled low when Teddy began squirming wildly in your hold.

“Uncle Matt!!”

Chubby bare feet slapped excitedly against the cool tile as Teddy bolted forward. Mattheo caught him mid-stumble, swinging the boy high with effortless strength before peppering his face with the same enthusiastic kisses you’d given moments earlier. Teddy’s little arms locked tight around his uncle’s neck, clinging like a koala.

You leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching your two favorite boys with unabashed adoration. The late afternoon light caught in Mattheo’s curls and the faint sheen of sweat on his skin from the warm day out.

“And Dad!” Theo announced dramatically, stepping in behind them. He tickled Teddy’s sides until fresh peals of laughter filled the room. Mattheo’s gaze found yours again across the kitchen, a hazy, affectionate warmth lingering in his eyes from the drinks they’d clearly enjoyed on their golf outing. You shook your head fondly as Theo pressed a grateful kiss to the top of your head, his familiar cologne mixing with the faint scent of sun-warmed grass and beer.

“He wasn’t too much trouble, was he?” Theo asked, still grinning.

“Not at all,” you replied, smiling. “Though he should sleep great tonight.”

After a few more minutes of chaotic goodbyes, Teddy protesting loudly between yawns as Theo finally pried him away with promises of ice cream on the way home. The door clicked shut and blessed silence settled over the house, broken only by the distant hum of cicadas outside.

You let out a long, weary breath and headed straight for the bathroom, already peeling off your sauce-stained shirt. The hot spray of the shower hit your shoulders like heaven, steam curling thick and fragrant around you as you tipped your head back under the water. The day’s stickiness and tension beginning to melt away.

The shower door slid open behind you with a soft rush of cooler air. Strong, familiar arms wrapped around your waist from behind before you could even turn. Mattheo’s bare chest pressed flush against your back, warm and solid, his skin still carrying the faint outdoors scent of sun, grass, and whiskey. He tapped his wedding band against your skin as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss to your neck. Water cascaded over both of you as he pulled you closer, one large hand splaying possessively across your stomach while the other brushed wet strands of hair from your neck.

“You’re so incredible,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. His voice was low and rough with affection, the words vibrating against your skin. “Watching you with him… you have no idea what that does to me.”

You leaned back into him with a soft sigh, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat and the growing heat of his body against yours. His fingers traced slow, soothing circles over your abdomen, gentle but full of intent.

“You’re going to be the most amazing mother,” he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss just below your ear. The steam made everything feel closer, more intimate. The glide of soapy skin, the way his breath hitched when you arched slightly into his touch. “I can already see it. Our little one running around, causing twice the trouble Teddy does… and you handling every second of it like the goddess you are.”

He turned you in his arms then, dark eyes locking onto yours through the falling water. Droplets clung to his lashes and rolled down the sharp lines of his jaw. One hand cupped your cheek while the other stayed low on your back, holding you tight against him.

“We’ll keep trying,” he promised, voice dropping into that velvet tone that always made your pulse race. His forehead rested against yours, noses brushing. “As many times as it takes. Every night. Every morning. Until you’re carrying our baby and I get to watch you glow even more than you already do.”

A broken, breathy moan spills from your lips, the only sound that dares cut through the thick darkness of the room. Your panties hang forgotten around one ankle, your thighs shoved high and wide by Neville’s strong hands as he devours you like a starving man. His mouth is relentless, hot and slick, tongue dragging slow and filthy through your dripping folds before latching onto your swollen clit with wet suction.

He whimpers against your pussy—short and needy sounds that vibrate straight through your core. Your juices coat his chin, dripping messily down his throat and onto the bare, sweat-slicked skin of his chest. The air is thick with the heady, musky scent of your arousal and the faint, earthy trace of crushed herbs that always seems to cling to him. Every lewd, hungry slurp and moan he makes sends fresh heat pooling low in your belly.

His fingers dig harder into the soft flesh of your thighs, spreading you wider as he buries his face deeper. He’d drown in you if he could—fuck, he wants to. The world outside this room is nothing but death and darkness closing in, but here, between your legs there’s only wet heat, your taste flooding his tongue, and the way your hips jerk and grind against his mouth. If he’s going to die anyway… why not die with your sweetness coating his lips and your thighs trembling around his ears?

“N-Nev, slow down,” you croon, voice wrecked and trembling as your fingers wind into his messy curls. You tug gently, pulling his face up just enough to meet his eyes.

His pretty brown eyes are nearly black now, heavy-lidded and drunk with lust as he stares up at you from between your thighs. His lips and chin glisten with your slick, and the sight alone makes your walls clench.

He answers with a loud slurp, locking his swollen lips tightly around your throbbing clit and sucking hard. At the same moment two long, thick fingers push deep inside you, stretching your fluttering walls before going perfectly still. A broken whimper vibrates against your soaked flesh as he revels in the way your legs spasm and twitch. With a low, determined growl, he shoves your thighs higher, folding you nearly in half and opening you completely to his hungry mouth. His gaze never leaves yours, intense, almost reverent.

“I’m gonna—fuck!”

“That’s it princess, cum on my face.”

Your body instinctively tries to twist away from the overwhelming pleasure, hips jerking, but his grip is iron-strong, fingers digging bruises into the soft backs of your thighs. He holds you right where he wants you and starts pumping his fingers slow and deep, curling them against that perfect spot inside you with devastating precision. He moans loudly into your dripping pussy, the deep vibration shooting straight through your core and making your eyes roll back. Every greedy lap and suck pulls more of your slick onto his tongue as he drinks you down like he’s dying of thirst.

Neville slowly crawls up your trembling body once your tremors subside, his fingers still lazily pumping in and out of your sloppy, fluttering cunt. Wet sounds fill the dark room with every thrust as he scatters open-mouthed kisses across your overheated skin—along your inner thigh, the curve of your hip, the soft dip of your stomach. He pauses to drag his tongue over one peaked nipple, sucking it into the wet heat of his mouth and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud until your shaky moan breaks free.

When he finally reaches your lips, he claims them instantly. The kiss is deep and hungry, his tongue sliding against yours as you taste yourself on him mingled with the faint cool mint of his gum. His strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his toned chest until your bodies are pressed together, skin slick with sweat and your combined heat. You can feel the hard, aching length of his cock straining against his trousers, yet he ignores it completely, too focused on kissing you like it’s the only thing keeping him breathing.

“Love you,” he mumbles against your lips, voice rough and breathless, barely pulling back enough to speak. He’s been doing this more and more lately, kissing you like time is running out, like every second might be stolen by the war waiting outside these walls.

“I love you too, pretty boy,” you whisper back.

He kisses you until the first pale light of dawn begins to creep through the curtains, ignoring the bone-deep exhaustion that will haunt him through classes. Nothing else matters. He’ll sneak back to you the moment he can, just to taste your lips again.

-

If anyone asked Remus Lupin what the best thing he’d found at Hogwarts was, he would smile faintly and say his friends.

But if you reached into the deepest, most unrestrained corners of his mind past the shame, past the careful walls he kept around the monster, he would admit the truth without hesitation: it was you.

Not his girlfriend. Not even a proper friend, really. Just the one person who had willingly stepped into the wreckage he left behind after every full moon.

His mates stayed with him through the change. They kept him from tearing himself apart, guarded the secret, dragged him back from the edge of the forest when the wolf finally released its hold. But you… you dealt with the after.

The moon had set hours ago, but its violence still clung to him. Remus lay sprawled across the narrow bed in the Shrieking Shack’s hidden room, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat and streaked with dirt and faint traces of blood that wasn’t his. Every muscle burned. The deep ache in his bones throbbed in time with his pulse, and the metallic tang of raw magic still coated his tongue. His scars felt tighter than usual, pulling across his shoulders and ribs like fresh wounds.

You never knew which version of Remus the moon would leave behind. Some nights he was soft and spent, content to let you take control. Letting fuck him slow and deep until the pain dulled and exhaustion finally pulled him under for a few precious hours of sleep. Other nights the wolf’s rage still simmered just beneath the surface. He became mean, viciously angry at the world and the monster he was cursed to be. And you… you were always so fucking willing to take it.

The door creaked open. Cool, forest-damp air rushed in, carrying the clean, sweet scent of jasmine that cut through the heavy stench of blood, sweat, and old wood. Remus barely cracked his tired eyes open, but his nostrils flared at your scent. His hands, raw and reddened from the chains that had barely held the wolf, flexed against the sheets.

“Was beginning to think you wouldn’t show,” he murmured, a small, pained smile tugging at his lips. It quickly twisted into a wince as fresh agony bloomed hot across his ribs.

“I always show,” you answered softly, stepping closer. Your voice was steady, but heat already pooled low in your belly at the sight of him wrecked, glistening, and unmistakably hungry.

A small yelp escaped your lips as his hand shot out, firm and possessive on your waist, yanking you down onto the bed. The handful of bandages you’d brought scattered across the floor, forgotten. His other arm banded around your back, crushing your chest to his as desperate, messy kisses found your neck. His lips were fever-hot, teeth grazing your pulse point before sucking hard enough to sting. The wet heat of his mouth sent shivers racing down your spine.

He ground up into you slowly, deliberately, letting you feel every thick inch of his hard cock straining against his torn trousers. The friction dragged right over your clothed center, teasing and maddening.

“Remus,” you whined, trying to pull back just enough to glance at the scattered bandages. “You’re hurt—”

“Can’t it wait til after?” His voice was a low, wrecked rasp against your skin. Those big amber eyes blinked up at you, pupils blown wide with lust and longing. He licked his lips slowly, hungrily, as if he could already taste you. “Been thinking of you all damn day. The whole time I was out there… it was your scent, your hands, your cunt I kept craving.”

The whispered confession made your core clench. Before you could answer, he rolled his hips again, pressing the rigid heat of his erection harder against you. A needy little sound slipped from your throat. His scent was sweat, earth, wild magic, and something darker and it flooded your senses as he buried his face between your breasts, mouthing and licking at your skin like a man starved.

You gave in, threading your fingers through his damp, messy hair and tugging just hard enough to make him groan. “Then take it,” you breathed. “Take what you need.”

That was all the permission he required.

Remus flipped you beneath him with surprising strength, caging you in with his body. His hands shoved your skirt up around your waist and ripped your underwear down your thighs in one rough motion. Cool air kissed your soaked folds for only a second before two thick fingers plunged inside you, curling instantly against that spot that made your back arch off the bed.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he growled, pumping his fingers deep and fast. The wet, obscene sounds of your arousal filled the small room. “All this for me? After everything I am?”

You could only moan in response, hips rocking desperately to meet his hand. His thumb found your clit and rubbed tight, relentless circles while his mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hard. The dual assault sent sparks shooting through your veins. Every stroke of his fingers stretched you, teased you, pushed you closer to the edge.

Sometimes he underestimated his strength in the raw hours after the moon. The way his mouth left scattered blooming bruises across your chest. The way his thick fingers plunged so deep and fast it felt like he was carving his claim into you. And fuck—you craved it. All month long you waited desperately for these nights when he needed you. Not Potter, not Black, not the careful distance he kept with everyone else. Just you. The only comfort he’d allow himself, whether it came from your body or something softer. Tonight, it was both.

“Ah, fuck—Remi, wait—” you gasped, the stimulation bordering on too much.

But he wasn’t listening. With a low, animalistic growl, Remus sank his teeth into the soft flesh of your hip, hard enough to sting and mark. The sharp bite tipped you over the edge. Your walls clamped down around his fingers as your release crashed through you, gushing hot and slick around his hand. Your thighs tried to squeeze shut around his wrist, trembling violently, but he kept pumping through it, drawing out every last shuddering wave.

“That’s it, honey,” he groaned against your skin, voice wrecked and dark with satisfaction. “Give it to me. Good girl.”

The praise melted through you like honeyed fire. You were still pulsing, gasping, when he finally withdrew his fingers—only to replace them with the blunt, thick head of his cock. He pushed in with one relentless thrust, burying himself to the hilt in your fluttering, oversensitive heat.

A sharp scream tore from your throat, echoing off the wooden walls of the shack. Your nails sank deep into the meat of his biceps as your body struggled to take him. No matter how wet or ready you were, he was always so big—every time felt like the first devastating stretch.

Remus pressed a large, warm hand firmly to your lower stomach, right over the visible bulge of his cock carving deep inside you. The pressure made you feel impossibly full, every inch of him mapped beneath your skin.

Messy curls tickled your flushed face as he leaned down, one big hand cupping your jaw. His hips pulled back slowly, only to slam back in before you could fully adjust. Tears of overwhelming pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes. His grip tightened, thumb pressing hard against your jaw to force your fluttering eyelids open so you had no choice but to meet his burning amber gaze.

“Y’okay?” he growled, voice low and rough. He ground deep, circling his hips to press against every sensitive spot inside you. The brutal stretch contrasted sharply with the soft, soothing circles his thumb traced along your jaw. His thumb tugging at your bottom lip, pulling it down. A delighted, almost feral smirk lit his face at the sight of the drool already threatening to spill from the corner of your mouth.

He loved you like this—cock-drunk and stupid on him, eyes glassy, body trembling and taking everything he gave.

At your dazed, shaky nod, his smirk widened. In one fluid motion he pulled out, flipped you onto your stomach, and yanked your hips up exactly where he wanted them. Your cheek pressed into the dusty pillow as he pushed back inside you with a single powerful thrust, bottoming out again in one go.

A choked whimper fell from your lips, muffled by the fabric. Before you could catch your breath, his fingers tangled in your hair and pulled, firm but not cruel, arching your back and forcing your head up so he could see your face.

“That’s better,” he rasped, voice thick and breathy. “Want to hear every sound you make while I fuck you senseless.”

He set a punishing rhythm immediately, hips snapping against your ass with wet, filthy slaps. The new angle let him hit even deeper, the head of his cock dragging perfectly against that devastating spot inside you with every thrust. Your hands fisted the sheets, moans spilling freely now as he railed you. The stretch burned so good, his balls slapping against your clit with every brutal drive forward.

Remus kept his grip in your hair, using it as leverage to pull you back onto his cock. His other hand reached around to rub fast, messy circles over your swollen clit. The dual stimulation had you shaking, drooling openly onto the pillow, completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck—look at you,” he groaned, voice breaking. “Taking my cock so well. My good girl. My perfect little remedy after the moon…”

Remus kept his grip tight in your hair, using it as leverage to pull you back onto his cock with every forward drive. His other hand reached around to rub fast, messy circles over your swollen clit.

“Come on, honey,” he growled low in your ear, voice rough and dripping with lust. “Let me feel you fall apart again. Squeeze my cock just like that—fuck, yes. You’re so fucking good for me. Dripping down my balls like a good little slut.”

The filthy words combined with the relentless pounding and the tight circles on your clit pushed you over the edge hard. Your second orgasm slammed into you violently. Your walls clamping down around his thick length like a vice, gushing slick heat around him as your whole body seized and shook. A wrecked, cock-drunk cry tore from your throat, loud and shameless. Your mind went fuzzy and white-hot, thoughts dissolving into nothing but the overwhelming fullness of him stretching you, owning you.

But Remus didn’t stop.

He fucked you straight through it, hips stuttering only slightly as your cunt fluttered and pulsed around him. “That’s it—good girl, fuck, look at you. So cockdrunk you can’t even speak, can you? Just moaning and drooling into the pillow f’me.” His voice was wrecked, breath hot against the back of your neck. “I love you like this. All stupid and needy. Taking everything I give you after I’ve been a monster all night.”

You could barely respond, just a string of slurred whimpers and his name falling from your lips like a broken chant. “Remi—Remus—please—” Drool slipped from the corner of your mouth onto the dusty pillow. Your eyes were glassy, tears of overwhelming pleasure clinging to your lashes, body limp and pliant as he used you.

He groaned at the sight, pace growing erratic. “Yeah? You want more? Greedy girl. Gonna fill this pretty cunt up. Gonna pump you so full you’ll still feel me tomorrow when you sit down. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Walking around leaking my cum, knowing exactly who you belong to after the moon…”

His thrusts turned shorter, harder, grinding deep on every stroke. The hand in your hair tightened, the sting only sharpening the lingering waves of your orgasm. Remus kept talking, voice growing more broken and desperate as he chased his release.

“Fuck—gonna come. You’re squeezing me so tight, milk me, baby—take it all—”

With a deep, guttural moan that vibrated through your back, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. Thick, hot pulses of cum flooded your clenching cunt, filling you until you could feel your belly slightly swell from the sheer amount. He kept grinding through it, pushing his release deeper, as if he wanted to mark every inch of you.

Only then did his movements finally slow, his body collapsing over yours, heavy and trembling. He stayed buried deep inside you, softening slowly while pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and the back of your neck.

After the intensity finally ebbed, he pulled out of you with a low, reluctant groan. Rolling onto his back and tugging you lazily into his lap, one strong arm looped securely around your back to hold you close against his chest. Your legs straddled his thighs, your slick, cum-filled cunt resting warm and messy against his softening cock.

The room was quiet now, save for your mingled breathing and the distant creak of the old building. You reach for the scattered supplies, determined to play healer even if only for a little while. Remus’s scars and wounds, some ancient, some still fresh from the night’s transformation, would never truly heal, but he always let you pretend. You dab gently at a nasty gash along his ribs with antiseptic-soaked cloth. He hisses sharply at the sting, muscles tightening beneath you, but his free hand only stroked soothingly up and down your spine.

“Easy, love,” he murmured, voice hoarse. A small, fond smile tugged at his lips despite the pain.

You were so focused. Your brow furrowed, bottom lip caught between your teeth, that you didn’t notice him leaning in until his mouth found yours in a slow, sneaky kiss. Then another. And another. Soft at first, then deeper, tasting the salt of sweat on your skin. Between kisses he nipped at your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, while his spent cock began to twitch and thicken again beneath you, hardening steadily against the curve of your ass.

“Remi…” you breathed, voice holding no real bite as you felt him growing hard once more.

He hummed low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Can’t help it. Not when you look at me like that.” His hand slid down to grip your ass, rocking you gently against his renewed erection. “Just one more time. Slow this time. I want to feel every inch of you before the sun comes up.”

He had you again—slow and sweet, just as he promised. Turned on your back beneath him, he sank into you with a long, luxurious thrust, savoring the way your walls fluttered around his thick length. This time there was no frantic pounding. Just deep, rolling strokes, his hips grinding against yours in a lazy rhythm that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. His mouth stayed on yours, on your breasts, on the marks he’d left earlier, kissing and licking like he was memorizing the taste of you.

You came quietly that time, trembling and sighing his name as pleasure washed over you in warm, lingering waves. Remus followed soon after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you again with a soft, broken groan.

And maybe once more after that. Lazy and half-asleep, your back to his chest in a spooned position, his hand between your thighs rubbing slow circles over your clit while he rocked into you from behind until you both shuddered through one final, gentle release.

Because this was the only night a month he allowed himself to have you.

Remus knew what he was: a monster. A man cursed to destroy everything he touched if he wasn’t careful. He didn’t deserve someone as pliant, as sweet, as fiercely devoted as you. But on this one night, when the moon had wrung him dry and left him raw, he let himself indulge. Let himself drown in your body, your care, your quiet acceptance.

As the first faint light of dawn crept through the cracks in the walls, he held you close, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your skin, pressing one last kiss to your temple.