Thank you for writing Top Harry. I hope that other writers who insist on writing Bottom Harry which is plain boring and no fun will follow suit and write Eggsy as a bottom. He is the young twink and thats where he belongs and what pretty much everyone head canons so thanks for your last fic I loved it

futuredescending:

oops, my hand slipped, anon.


Harry lives for that moment when he can feel the blunt, oozing head of Eggsy’s cock pressing against his hole, seemingly too large to possibly fit. And though he’s had plenty of experience taking it up the arse, there’s always that one moment that lasts for the span of a heartbeat and lifetime where he thinks the tight ring of muscle won’t yield.

“Open up for me,” Eggsy urges. “Come on.”

Harry moans, resting his cheek against his forearms, digging his elbows into the mattress, angling his hips back, breathing deep and out—

It always does, though—and with an inevitable, delicious burning, no matter how much lube Eggsy uses, where Harry feels like he’s being pried apart. Eggsy’s prick stuffs him up and he feels massively full, sweetly aching, positively fit to bursting with cock.

“So tight, Harry.” Eggsy grinds a little into him, running blazing trails across his back.

He loves it, stuffed with Eggsy’s cock, pummelled beneath the onslaught of his immediate vigourous, merciless thrusts. Eggsy grips his hips bruisingly tight, fucking in so hard, his balls rhythmically slap against the tops Harry’s thighs.

“You feel so good, darling,” Harry moans, muffled by his arm. “So good. I love your thick cock fucking into me. Harder, please.”

And bless him, Eggsy somehow, impossibly, does, until Harry feels like his body’s gone numb with bliss, transported to stuffed arse nirvana, at which his prostate is the centre of the entire fucking universe.

He comes in an epiphany, sees God, and learns the secrets of life all in one split second, crying out and slumping, barely aware of Eggsy driving into him with one last forceful shove before coming inside him, curling over his back like a creeping vine.

When their pulses return to steady state and the sweat begins to cool, Eggsy gingerly pulls out, leaving Harry with a gaping absence between his legs, clenching around an empty mass that’s only ameliorated by Eggsy fingering the slopping mess of his hole, pushing back in all his dripping come.