#has their hands in one of his own and is tickling their lil pits | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anantaru · 1 year

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𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐘

tighnari loves whenever you settle on his lap while he‘s eagerly working on his research papers.

୨୧ WORD COUNT: 2.1k

୨୧ WARNINGS: .n.sfw, fem! reader, c.warming, making a mess, he‘s a lil tease as we all know by now

"t-tighnari."

you mewl out weakly, an absolute panting mess with a desiring flaming glare in your glassy eyes.

how long has it been since you've settled on his lap? bare and naked with only your shirt loosely hanging around your shoulders. Directly he had adjusted you over his tip, gathering himself into your sweet embrace.

tighnari wanted to feel it all. every brief kiss, momentary touch and each transient tap of your skin on his own. "it's too much." you push back against his chest but he kept you still without much power involved.

"what's the matter?" he sighs innocently while lowering his gaze to where your bodies connected. Damn him and his taunting nature, you've been stuffed of his cock for archon knows how long and he still did not move, one inch, not even now.

each rill could be perceived by your sensitive walls, the light curve of his manhood easily dug itself into a mushy place inside your cunt, nudging and prodding at the pulsating spots.

at the realization of the growing frustration dwindling inside and out of your quivering skin, he lightly parted his lips before swaddling one arm around your hips, tugging you to him.

he smells of earthy tones, flowers and clean clothes, mixed together with a sharpened musky scent that was weakly interlinked over his skin.

"do i need to teach you basic manners now? you can see i'm *still* occupied with my research."

you feel his slender hand dig into your disheveled, half opened shirt, delving your pussy more intensely against his stiffened member.

at this, he looks untouchable, fully in control of the situation the both of you had found yourself in. He's not innocent, you see a side of him no one else does and tighnari made sure to flash it out to its fullest extent.

to gather yourself close to him, you firmly sheathed your arms around his neck before speaking up, "I'll behave." a promise you should keep, "b-but please hurry up!" because who knows what he'll do if you mess it up once again and disturb his work.

"you promise?" his words came out in a silent tone, hazy and rolling off slowly, his warm breathing was coating your jawline before he playfully nibbled on the skin, his cloudy, darkened eyes closing for a fleeting second to indulge in your beauty.

"i pr-promise." you pressed your body onto him more as he could feel your breasts squeezed against his clothed chest, your erected nipples brushing over the rough materials when his tail shuddered at the sensual touch, setting his loins on fire.

a slight friction, just one, had you hiss back a silent moan as tighnari began to go back to his usual duty— trying to that is, lazily resting his head on your dampened neck and gathering his research papers with one hand while his other kept you still.

well, the predicament you found yourself in surely had you struggle when you delved your hands over his back, somehow trying to urge your boyfriend to touch you already.

the liquid fire in your veins poured through the entirety of your body as your stomach grew heavy with a deep knot in the pits of it all. There wasn't a possible way for you to stay calm or not move an inch when his tip was remotely hitting your shaking bundles like that, punctuated and forceful.

it becomes increasingly hard to keep playing his game, more so as you noticed your essence pooling out of your parted hole, slicking him up. You brushed away the bangs that loosely hung around his face, skimming through his hair as his ears lightly twitched at the mere, brief touch of you.

you're convulsing at the messy state, how sticky it had gotten in between your bodies made it far more difficult now to not voice anything at all. Your shallow breathing tickles the backside of his neck, coaxing out a broken hum with his tiny hairs sticking up.

"just a bit more." he's confident in his words, urging you to keep your cool, tighnari was barely faced by what was happening right now. Of course, you did not tell him that you couldn't wait any longer, who knows what he'll do if you decided to spit it out.

additionally, you now slightly lost the grab on yourself and your drenched hole was clenching down involuntarily, curling into him.

"a-ah wait." he suddenly spoke, breath hitching, his hand digging you back down before he could even finish his sentence, dropping his work for a short instance before averting his attention back to you. "f-fuck, don't do that."

it's a sound you didn't expect he'd make, not so fast at least. His brown greenish eyes were fixated on you now, the desperation in them difficult to ignore.

fuck, tighnari cursed himself underneath his warm, heavy breathing, the combination of your soaked pussy engulfing him and suddenly clamping down divulged new heights of awareness in his already extremely delicate senses.

"it wasn't on purpose." you panic, flinching a little when he retracted his body a bit further into the chair in which he accidentally bottomed out, completely catching you off guard.

eyes sprang open as your stuffed cunt ground down a little, mewling out crying as tighnari forcefully placed each hand on your hips to shush your movements.

but it was far more arduous now, impossible, you started pushing his boundaries with your small antics, shoving him towards the edge of pure bliss and he knows he shouldn't, he knows he should finish his work and make you a drooling, pathetic mess before he'd fuck your brains out.

the thrill of it was the worst, to see your breasts squished against him and your neutral body scent filling his nostrils, or how you clenched down at every breath he took, tensing down and letting go, tensing again, fluttering your hole on his girth with his ears twitching once more.

so gentle yet sweet, he dwindles back to suddenly capture your lips, pressing you close to taste your mouth. You're feeling glued to him, whimpering when he began to easily roll you back and forth. "fuck, y-you feel so good."

the admittance of it was all you craved to leave his throat, moaning into his lips as you let him use you, his dick soaked with your arousal and making it easy to slip in and out.

"tighnari-" your lips opened with a strangled moan, "i need you to fuck me."

in the first instance, tighnari went low, slow and featherlight, his work load since long forgotten, he could dedicate to it later, it was futile to force himself now since he wouldn't be fully there with his mind.

his hands were tightly holding onto your skin and eagerly squeezing the flesh in his palms, a smirk curving on the sides of his mouth, his dangerous glare had a desiring shadow surrounding them.

"now now?" peppering your jaw with tiny kisses, he continued, "you really want that?"

you held onto him before deciding to slightly raise your hips, signaling him in other ways than using words and adding onto the chorus of sweet euphoria. Plunging him into you, inch by inch, while noticing how much he too, was enjoying this right now.

with the way it was going, his member was thoroughly splatted with your white, sweet slick as you milked him dry, fat drops of his pre cum smearing down both on your hole and around your puffy folds, sticking together.

he was desperately pulling you up and down in an even pace, doing most the work and groaning when you sought after his lips again, languidly running your tongue over his mouth before capturing them in a starving manner.

tighnari was bottoming out of you like he's addicted and thirsty, in heat, rolling and hammering his cock into the mushy flesh, his moaning turning you giddy and hot when it ghosted over your sweat covered face.

"k-keep taking me like that." he's whimpering on you, almost commanding that he can become once he's especially riled up, "you're so warm."

he's painfully throbbing within your walls, the sloppy noises only eliciting the thick tension surrounding your soaked skin, rubbing his cock head into the deepest parts of your pussy.

at his words alone you could cum undone, the yearning expression on his eyes stuck to you, stretching you wide, his thoughts were truly messy and fucked out now, expressing no bounds.

not knowing what to do other than hold onto him for the life of you, you were chasing your hot climax building in your tightening stomach, pulsing on his cock while you embarrassingly moaned his name, bubbling out filthy words to show your gratitude and love.

"i'm so close- please." your thighs were straining, it hurt and you didn't know how long you could stay in that position, forcefully making tighnari look at you with your eyes bristling warm tears, splattering the wetness on both your lashes and cheeks.

"w-where do you want me?" he's jerking his hips up and using you as his personal cocksleeve, once, twice, endlessly as he panted through each of his words, "inside, c-cum inside please."

your sobbing turned messily, sniffing and crying out when he abruptly gathered newfound strength on your core, every slick noise releasing the tension in your heat.

he is relentless when he fucks you, when he claims and occupies your inner being, grazing over your delicate insides with his tip, his balls so tight and hard ready to be emptied, milked by your sloppy cunt.

He wanted to find himself deeper and split your thighs further apart, not that it was possible to somehow spread your legs more, you were already at your limit.

each thrust from downwards sent you spiraling, the ringing in your ears taking a hold of your thoughts, like a terrifying virus gnawing on its host, vibrating through your pulsing veins.

with the last couple of drags, you pressed your hips forward and squeezed hard, tighnari shuddered at your bold move and his body tensed at the tight euphoria he was experiencing once you climaxed on him.

his hips were violently stuttering, shallow breathing on your skin when you clamped down fully, crying out and moaning, your slick covering his entire length but he did not stop and fucked you through your intense orgasm, gifting you with overstimulation that had your vision switched to white.

something different, name it a carnal desire, soon awakened in him, in a fleeting moment, as he unraveled, the thick rope in his stomach abruptly snapping in two, messily spilling all his toe curling load into you.

tighnari was smiling against your shoulder and kept going, groaning through a clenched jaw, his hips stuttering and vibrating when he couldn't stop pumping his sticky cum in you, smearing it over your velvety insides when you whimpered and cried at the feeling of a warm sensation capturing you.

his tail was twitching and so were his ears, those two traits in particular always making sure to show you how much he had enjoyed this, how much glee he felt in greedily stuffing your precious cunt.

"aah- fuck." a whiny noise hit your ears, his words were breaking onto each other, "fuck- fuck!" he's sobbing uncontrollably, still pressing you down on his cock and you whimpered, you were so sensitive and shaky, your legs were all the more spent and tired out, feeling numb.

he came a lot, so much it wasn't able to fit all into you and it gradually dribbled out of your loosened hole, pooling down his emptied balls and drenching the cold, wooden floor.

it wasn't easy to articulate and form any sentences by how hard he had fucked you and made you climax as you were limply laying on him, breathing hard and resting your heavy head against his sweat glowing neck, letting his musky scent roam through you.

at this, none of you decides to speak, rather stay calm for a second and bath in your afterglow, seeking comfort in your body heat and recovering from the violent orgasm that felt like an electrified current falling down on you.

tighnari decided to speak first, "we made a mess." he smirks, letting out a half broken moan as he clumsily pulled out of you, his softening member laying limply on his stomach, somehow still pulsing and aching.

to add to the attempt in making you flustered, you barked back, "no, you made a mess." killing the empty space in between your faces you cradled him, peppering his cheeks, nose and his plump lips with soft, sloppy kisses.

the both of you laugh at each other breathlessly, stroking and caressing your tired bodies and spending the additional quality time you had gotten together now.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #tighnari x reader #tighnari smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #tighnari x you #genshin impact tighnari #tighnari x y/n #genshin impact x reader smut #tighnari headcanons #tighnari fluff #genshin headcanons

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softlyspector · 1 year

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I know we’re all on the Joel Miller train rn but a thought occurred to me and I need to share it before I forget: Imagine Din not cutting his hair for a little bit for whatever reason, and it just barely sticking out of the helmet. I just keep thinking about running my fingers through those lil strands before ever seeing his face. You don’t have to write this (unless you really want to), I just needed someone else to think about it as well.

Din Djarin x gn!reader

A/n: Don't cry Din Djarin Happy May the 4th content! Also, please anon I'm so very happy to think about this.

Warnings: soft and sleepy Din Djarin who forgets he's a person sometimes.

He hasn't had time to cut his hair.

Usually, he's meticulous about it. He's particular about his grooming, about the care and upkeep of his armor and his clothes.

The only thing that occasionally sees some wear and tear is his cloak, before he has time to patch it, or the credits to purchase another one.

He's been running you ragged the last few months, he knows that. You and the kid both look exhausted. Both of you were used to constant travel but recently things have been particularly brutal.

When he finally makes a pit stop on Tatooine - a longer stop, he promises you, to collect yourselves and rest - you've never looked more relieved.

As soon as the ship is on the ground, you tip yourself out of the co-pilot's chair and grip his bicep just below the pauldron. Your hand is warm. It's a welcome weight.

"Thank you, Din," you say quietly.

He just tips his head down in acknowledgement. Though he knew you were tired, you hadn't made a noise of complaint the entire journey. "I'll sort out somewhere for us to stay," you say, picking up Grogu. "Unless you want to stay on the ship tonight?"

"No," he agrees with you. "It would be good to rest." Somewhere with more space, a real bed.

That, and remaining in the ship would mean being dangerously close to Peli and her host of droids overnight.

You're only gone for half an hour, during which time he's able to secure the ship and endure Peli's usual barrage of questions and comments.

By the time you return, he's dead on his feet. Din isn't sure when the last time he'd slept properly is.

After Peli's requisite cooing over the child, and the assurance that you indeed were traveling with him of your own free will, you're allowed to walk away.

He herds you out onto the street in the fading light of the lowering twin suns. "Got us something to eat too," you comment.

Din hovers his hand over the middle of your back, not making contact with you but urging you along nonetheless. He isn't sure he has the energy to eat.

Grogu is down for the count as soon as the door of the room you'd rented for the night is firmly closed.

"Wanna eat? I can go walk around for a bit so you have privacy," you offer.

Din peers at you, not willing to admit he'd rather expose his face to the entire galaxy in that moment than be parted from you. "I'm not hungry," he settles for saying instead. "You should though."

You brace a hand on his forearm, your other hand going to his opposite elbow. "Eat," you say. "I'll turn my back."

Before he can agree to that, at least, you frown at him. "Din..." You say, your voice trailing off.

He frowns at you from behind the visor as your hand slowly lifts.

It takes him a moment to figure out what it is that has caught your attention, when he feels the tug of your fingers against his hair.

He sucks in a breath, the feeling foreign and strange. It feels nice, the light tickle of it against his jaw, your hand slowly inching under the helm to play with the too long strands.

It doesn't just feel nice, it feels -

He wishes your hand could travel further. He wishes that you could bury your hands in his hair, slide it between your fingers from the roots to the ends.

"I haven't had time to cut it." The words come unbidden and sharper than he means them to be.

You jerk your hand away and step back. "Sorry," you mutter hastily. "I shouldn't have-,"

Before you can step any further away, and maybe against his better judgement, he captures your hand and guides it back to the edge of the cowl around his neck, giving you the choice to feather your fingers through the ends of his hair again if you'd like.

"It's okay," he assures you. "I was just surprised."

He feels the tug again, watches your eyes cut to the barest wisps of the ends of his too long hair.

"It's soft," you note, almost to yourself.

Din closes his eyes, swaying where he stands. The feeling is putting him to sleep.

Your other hand cups his elbow again. "Okay," you remove your hand from where it had edged beneath his helmet. "Time for you to rest."

He'd never admit it, but he needs reminding of that sometimes. That he needs rest.

You're better at remembering that he's not made of beskar than he is sometimes, that there is flesh and blood beneath the armor.

He goes through the motions of it, of eating while you keep your back turned to him and stitch the holes worn through the hem of one of your shirts, of showering, of removing and caring for his beskar, before it eventually comes time to settle down.

The child is still dead asleep and he can tell that you're near the very end of your frayed rope.

When you settle down in the bed in the blissful dark and relative quiet, he takes your hand and guides it back to the stray strands of his hair.

You trace the lip of the helm and then edge your fingers into his hair again.

"I'll cut it tomorrow," he says when he releases your wrist. Your forearm rests on his chest, a pleasant weight on his lungs without the security of the chest plate.

Your fingers pause, then resume slowly combing through his hair. "Shame. This is nice."

"It's time. I should have cut it much sooner."

"Well," you intone, "We've been very busy as of late." You tug sharply on one stand and he grunts. "Speaking of, you can finally sleep in peace, so do it."

He rolls his eyes, the pads of your fingers pressing along his jaw over his chin, his cheek. "I am trying," he replies stiffly.

"So you are," you chuckle and remove your hand again, shifting into his side without invitation. His body automatically adjusts to accommodate you. "I'll miss it."

Before he can answer, you've already passed out, the flame of your candle finally blown low.

Maybe he'd give it one more day. Tomorrow is a new day, one you would be rested for and that would give you the opportunity to play with ends of his hair for just a bit longer.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x you

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touchoflaughter · 2 years

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This was in my drafts for too long now! Enjoy my little tickle addicts!

Family Tickle Attack

Oh guys I got tickled by a group of 5 today 😫🤯and it was so flustering and embarrassing at the same time…

So I was at a family feast where I usually spend the time with my cousins (we’re all about the same age but they’re all boys). One of them (ofc the strongest gym addict/mma fighter it has to be) is a Ler with or without knowing. We never talked about it but it’s so obvious that I have no doubts. He tickled me and others so much in the past I lost count.

He still does. Since no one is a match for him anyways, he often acts the way he wants. And mostly he wants to force others to laugh.

So we were sitting on the big table for dinner. Many family members came. Even some I don’t know that good. It was a big circle.

I sat in between the boys, we were chatting, eating, anything was fine actually. Until this douchebag started to poke into my sides (without any reason at all!!)

I couldn’t help but flinch every damn time!! 😩 I even bumped with my legs against the table and the glasses clinked. All five of them were mocking me for not being able to remain calm and the one to my left started poking too. Soon the whole gathering had realized what was going on over here.

After a while they paused their lil entertainment game and we ate in peace. Afterwards we went upstairs just like we did as kids. We always played games, went to the homegym or wrestled for fun. Not much had changed since then. 😂

Everyone was up to his own stuff, when, out of the blue, my devilish Cousin came from behind to tickle my waist with both hands. Over the years he definitely got way too good at this and even the slightest touches are lighting up a firework inside me. I couldn’t help but shriek and jump away- for general amusement.

“Actually I’m in the mood to tease you a little.“, he said with a wicked grin.

“Haven’t noticed.“, I countered sarcastically. „Actually I’m still hungry!”, I continued while already trying to get away. But of course he was expecting something like that and stood in my way. There was no escaping from him. I tried many times before but still I wouldn’t give up without a fight.

“Don’t! Let me go!”, I demanded but he just shook his head grinning, when one of the others came from behind and wrapped his arms around me. “Guys! Let’s get her!” Before I even started to fight him off, the strongest was there to start another attack, scribbling his big hands right into my tummy. “Ahhh! Nohoho! Lehet mehe gohoho!“

I tried to slip out of the other one‘s grip but they used my escape to pin me to the ground. The other boys immediately helped and everyone of them took a spot!

I was too distracted and panicking to remember it exactly, but as far as I can assemble the pieces, two tickled my feet by sitting on one leg each, one held my arms in place above my head so another could tickled the pits. The head of the group sat on my waist and got the tummy of course…

It was one hell of a time! I was completely immobilized by bodies only! In the beginning I sweared at them with hysterical laughter, then I started begging and a few minutes in, my aunt went upstairs to see what’s wrong. (They heard my screams and laughter in the whole building *crying in embarrassment*)

Well you can imagine how cringey it must be to lay beneath your cousins, getting absolutely wrecked, screaming on top of your lungs, begging and crying- and then get detected by your fathers sister…

She made them stop and looked down at me with concern and pity in her eyes before getting down to tell f*cking EVERYONE why I was screaming like that.

The moment I came down too, still sweaty, reddened and with messy hair? - One of the most embarrassing moments of my life…

The looks they gave me…

Good thing this arse of a cousin is veery ticklish himself (even though no one is brave enough to get him-except of me, hah!) 😈 watch out douchebag…

#tickle community #sfw tickles #tickle blog #irl tickles #tickles #tickle fight #noncon tickling

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inkedtae · 3 years

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orange tree ⇾ knj, kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ares!namjoon x mortal!reader (f.) x apollo!taehyung

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ greek god au, established relationship (w/namjoon), smut, pwp, filth, poly au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ he built you a pathronon but you would like to expand its patrons… at least just for the evening.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 7.4k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ dom!namjoon, tattooed!namjoon, silver mullet!namjoon, dom!taehyung, blonde mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, a lil bratty!reader, rough sex, public sex, outdoor sex, angry sex, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), humilition kink, size kink, pain kink, jealousy, threesome, overstimulation, degradation, double penatration (in one hole), exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, oral (m. and f. receiving), deep throating, cockwarming, choking, manhandling, body worshipping, pussy worshipping, basically reader worshipping, pussy slapping, cum eating, clit biting, spanking, teasing, begging, spit play, breath play, breast play, pretty much an ungodly amount of filth :)))

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i’m a hoe :))

❧ banner by ⇾ @kimtaehyunq (thank you so much friend~)

❧ beta’d by ⇾ @nottodayjjk and @uhgood-dooghu (a million thanks to these cuties~)

❧ le playlist

⟶ commission for @jamaisjoons through ChangesWithLuv, supporting BLM

Beyond the holy village of Barthes, within a meadow of sun dropped marigolds, you lounge topless underneath an orange tree. Cool winds cut the late summer heat. The breeze hardens your nipples and prickles your exposed skin with goosebumps. Hair tousled, you bite into another orange slice. He did not care for citrus, until he tasted your lips. Then, he planted you an orange tree. He promised you good fortune and a long life.

“You will want for nothing,” he told you. “Just, behave.”

Behave. A word he’d used often with you. Jaw tense, he’d hiss the warning while fondling your breasts or cupping your sex. When he is furious, he is boundless. He fucks like a titan, remnants of a gracious god completely withering away. Tight grips, rough pounds, and seething threats that promise such painful pleasure, Kim Namjoon is a red hot planet of sexual destruction. So angry, so lustful, he serves you a cockful of discipline and then some. You are helpless. To his wrath, you are subjected. But, you don’t mind. The truth of the matter is, your body is always alive when buried under his.

“You’re a minx,” a deep voice states behind you.

You sit up, fruit juice trailing down your arm. Lips in a pout, you gaze up at the tall man behind you. Blonde hair, symmetrical face, sharp collarbone, broad chest and - he smirks - and, oh so sinister. How could a delicate smile be so devilishly sincere? And he brands you a minx… what does this handsome man know of you? How long has he been watching? Swallowing your bite thickly, you try and fail to fathom his beauty.

He pushes himself off the tree trunk and circles around you. His eyes dance around the thin, red blanket, the array of fruits, and braided loaves by the wicker basket before trailing up your exposed legs. A shiver snakes around your curves. The way his eyes devour you makes you think he did not stumble upon this hideaway accidentally. Namjoon took extensive measures to ensure no one would. No, this man knows. He must. Why else would he not question your presence alone under the only tree? He accepts it, expects it.

Pushing your sticky arms around your breast, you attempt to somewhat conceal yourself and ask, “Are you a traveller?”

He shakes his head. The wind plays with his hair the moment the sun emerges behind heavy clouds. Its natural glow lights up his figure, in all its holy glory. Well-toned, pierceless, inkless, chiseled features are all too accurate to be human. He is pure. There is very little scarring on his skin as well. He looks down right angelic, prophetic, utterly godly.

Has Namjoon really entertained your fantasies? You first made the suggestion off hand, completely innocent in your phrasing, until his face fell. Stone fierce gaze slicing through your soul, you couldn’t help but describe an ocean’s worth of desires involving more than one man by your side. You were fucked to tears against the tree until it’s branches were bare and the ground was covered in ripe fruit and loose leaves. You thought that would be the end of it. But now, as you carefully stare at the god while he shamelessly sips on your near nakedness, you wonder just how wrong you might have been.

“Have you come to watch?”

“To worship.”

Your arousal slicks your thighs. Pressing your legs together, you suppress the giddy shivers that caress your spine. Though excited, you really can’t believe Namjoon did it. It was a joke but, scanning the sun god’s frame once more, you’re glad he didn’t take it that way. Face flushed, you lie back in your previous position. On your side, breasts on full display, you toss your hair aside. As your lips part to question the details of his intentions, you catch a familiar silhouette by the sea, in the distance. Flickering your gaze between the two men, you wonder if this new god was sent to test your loyalty or limits? The figure nods. You smile.

Attention returning to the golden god, you ask, “Apollo, is it?”

“Taehyung,” he corrects.

“Is that the name you prefer I scream?”

He pauses. Those mismatched eyes widen at your intrepidity. Dazed in confusion, he scans your frame once again, as if reprocessing your presence. He’s underestimated your wits, you realize, but the newfound understanding in his eyes reassures you that it won’t happen again. Good. He’s a quick learner.

Quirking a brow at the blanket beneath you, he asks, “May I?”

You nod once. He licks his lips twice, bites on the bottom one, then seats himself beside you. On his side, bare chest on display, he takes in the scenery from this new angle. Flowers bloom under a peachy dawn, and the vast fields of greenery wither to sandy shores where the sea waves as a way of greeting. His cocky stare lingers on your boyfriend before settling back to your little shrine underneath the orange tree. It’s a parthenon all on its own, with you as the center of its divinity. This detail seems to intrigue him more than it should, but you assume it might also have something to do with being watched.

Taking his hand in yours, you feel the dimming warmth of the setting sun. Who’s manning the chariot, you wonder, and would he be willing to let you ride it? Your bones tremble beneath your flesh at the impression of a distant growl. Oh, right. You almost forgot Ares can read your mind. Being something of a soulmate, he’s connected to you in ways other gods are not. Another growl slices through your thoughts. Jealousy sounds so good on him. Hearing his frustrations, knowing he’s enjoying the way you indulge, flusters the anxious bundle of nerves at your core.

Taehyung chuckles. Inches away now, his hot breath fans over your cheek. Fingers trailing up from your hand, along your arm then to your neck, he wraps his hand around your throat. He presses his thumb in the divet just under your chin, teasing a choke but never actually going through with it. You wonder what Namjoon must be hissing by the sea. What kind of curses is he throwing? Just picturing his furious eyes and cliffed jaw tickles the pit of your stomach.

“You’re precious,” Taehyung whispers, lips pressed against your chin. “I understand why he hides you from us.”

Us? Olympus knows of your blasphemous citrus temple? Usually, this kind of revelation would grant you a lightning bolt to the heart and an eternity in Tartarus. Only this wakes something different in Taehyung. His breath shallows, erection pokes at your thigh. He’s aroused by the idea of worshipping someone as powerless as a mortal. Or perhaps, you wonder as Taehyung nibbles on your skin, he simply adores displaying his power. Either or, you decide to make the most of what your Ares has granted you. Gaze finding his broad frame again, you let out an exaggerated gasp.

Namjoon flinches. However, it isn’t until you press your body against Taehyung’s that he cringes. He shifts his weight, fist clenched by his sides and you swear you can see steam hovering over his head. Namjoon is livid. But, Taehyung is oblivious. Too consumed by your pleasure, he tightens his grip on your throat and trails his open-mouthed kisses down to your breasts. Nipple between his teeth, Taehyung groans in hunger. Tongue teasing, he licks to play, not to soothe any of the stings. Your toes and legs hook around his waist. Hips rolling, you tease a preview of what you have in mind.

Taehyung shifts half an inch away though. You know it’s not because he didn’t enjoy the gesture, the throb against your hip reassuring you just how much he would really enjoy it. It still hurts your pride, however. Twinges of humiliation taint your soft features. He offers half a smirk as a means of comfort.

“He told me you’ve got quite a mouth.”

Is that an excuse or explanation? In both cases, it’s weak. He traces your face, fingertips so soft you almost forget the indirect rejection. Charming, his tiger starved gaze reflects hints of amusement. You’re easy prey, a fact that crumbles your courage. He is not here to coddle your pride, to serve the goddess of this naturous parthenon, but rather to obliviate it. A pitiful pile of pleasure is all he wishes to make of you. Though, now you wonder, is he doing this because he wants to, or because he’s ordered to?

Eyes darting between Apollo and Ares, you swallow thickly. The wondrous glow in Taehyung’s gaze makes you pause. Perhaps you’ve been too hasty. Perhaps they were both counting on that. The humiliation returns ten fold and prickles your skin upon realizing how careless you have been. Too quick to show your keen interest in devouring a different dose of daylight, you did not make Taehyung work as hard as he should’ve. And knowing that must have been what Namjoon was expecting only festers your heart with anger. This isn’t an opportunity to indulge, you conclude, but to reprimand. The both of them want to sip on your submission. The role of a meek mortal amuses them more than it should. It turns you on more than it should. So, you pull away more than you should.

Laying back on your elbows, you redirect your gaze to the sky. You can feel both pairs of eyes studying you. Taehyung props himself up on his forearm and looks over at your suddenly calmed features. It’s almost as if you’ve never exchanged a word at all.

“Funny,” you restart, all cards hidden this time. “He never mentioned you.”

Angry, confused, perhaps both, Taehyung stares. He blink, blink, blinks before he fully registers what’s been said. You can feel Namjoon’s delight though. The pride he has in the way you sassed a rival resonates deep in your core.

As you shimmy out of your dress, Taehyung finally scoffs a chuckle. You attempt to ignore the way it lights your soul with desire and focus on Namjoon’s silhouette. He looks closer, lurking by the tall grass, though still near the sand. Fully naked, you try to school your features and pretend you don’t notice the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches while Taehyung’s falls slack. Your hands rests on Taehyung’s bare thigh long enough to make him shudder and your boyfriend growl. It’s almost all too easy to push Namjoon’s buttons. He hates it when you do something simply because you can.

“You abuse your power,” he always tells you.

And, with a smile, you always reply, “I don’t abuse anything, Joonie. You just can’t refuse it.”

Taehyung seems to prove this statement now, falling prey to the way you toy with him. Half focused, you’re paying enough attention to him to feel his frustration. Displeased with the way you have your eyes glued on the god of war, Taehyung huffs and inches closer.

“Do I need to plant you an orange tree?” he teases. Well, he attempts to anyways. The resentment in his tone seeps through instead.

You bite back a smirk. “You can try.”

His eyes flash with annoyance. Chewing on the insides of his cheeks, Taehyung raises a brow. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, but you can safely assume he’s highly debating it. His eyes shift around the tree the two of you currently lounge under. Sparing you a glance, he scoffs. Perhaps he doesn’t think it’s worth it, you wonder. It’s no matter to you. All it really means is more time spent frustrating him, teasing him beyond-

The ground crackles, splitting open with the presence of new roots. Bare branches rise and twist around the orange tree trunk. The deep green leaves sprout. Then, ripe figs bloom. They dangle closer to you than the oranges do. You don’t have much time to really admire them, however, as a loud rumble rattles your bones. The sound is enough to snap your fearful eyes to the seashore. Namjoon is gone.

Shit. Have you taken this too far? Namjoon did plant this tree for you. He had never so much so as looked at another mortal. His allegiance, devotion, and adoration has been declared to you on more than one occasion. You are all he ever sees, thinks, breathes. Swallowing thickly, you mentally call him back. It’s all in good fun, you try to convince him. A quiet hum from the other side of the line is enough to soothe your anxiety. You lean back into the other god.

Taehyung couldn’t be less concerned. Instead of searching for Namjoon, as you seem to be interested in doing, he latches his lips onto your shoulder, a single hand cupping your breast. You gasp. Taking this as an encouragement to continue, Taehyung trails a wet arrangement of open mouthed kisses along your neck. Lips pressed to the shell of your ear, he hisses, “Quite a fucking mouth, indeed.” He digs his fingertips into the flesh of your breast and continues, “Might need some good dick to keep it in check.”

The thought is appealing. So much so, that you cannot help the way your eyes widen and glisten with interest. Having his cock shoved down your throat while he growls at the sheer sight of it alone has compelled your undivided attention. But, Namjoon’s rage still scratches at your bones, warning you against playing too much.

You scoff. “Who says I don’t already have that?”

Taehyung does not reply. Not a smirk graces his lips nor breath escapes him. He simply leans in for a kiss. You find yourself giving in all too quickly. He slides his hand down to cup the space between your thighs and you cannot find it within you to push it away. In fact, you spread your legs further apart and tell yourself it’s reactive. The jolt of your hips up into his hand though… that might’ve been calculative.

But the simple gesture of rolling your hips into his palm has shown all your cards once more. He reclaims the power, pulling away from the kiss and your sex. He clutches onto your hair, a deadpan expression the only means of emotion now. In huffing silence, he yanks on your hair, guiding your head down to his crotch. You hiss, the gesture proving more pleasurable than painful as you feel a fresh rush of your wetness further stain your legs.

His silk skirt, pinned up and hanging from his hip by an arrowed, gold pin, lies in a disarried pile beside him. His huge cock is all that stands before you. He’s thicker than Namjoon, but, even with its impressive length, it does not compare to your boyfriend’s size. Taehyung is massive, but Namjoon is monstrous.

Your mouth still salivates all the same. Tip oozing precum, Taehyung shoves your face against his balls. His thick scent rolls your tongue out. Heavy in lust, he mostly smells of lemons and cream. You’ve always adored citrus… Namjoon knows this well. And though you expected to feel your boyfriend’s anger at this revelation, all you feel on the other side is emptiness. You wonder where he’s gone.

Or, at least you attempt to wonder. The moment you feel the impression of Taehyung’s weighty balls against your lips, all your thoughts dissipate. You swirl your tongue around each one before dropping them in your mouth. Suckling, drool dripping, your enthusiasm cannot be hidden any longer. Moaning maniactically, your eyes roll back.

Taehyung gasps and hisses. The peak of his groans, however, surfaces when you wrap a hand around his thick cock. You were ready to start pumping until you realized a single hand barely even covers half of him. Both hands wrapped around his length now, you twist and drag them up and down. Every so often, you tighten your grip a bit and let out a throaty moan. He shudders each time, legs trembling from your attention.

On your knees, with your ass up high for any onlookers to easily see, the wind lashes at your heat. You squeal, then pull his balls out of your mouth to spit on his cock. The thick wad makes it easier to pump him. Brows furrowed, he runs a hand through his golden hair and shakily sighs… then his sight sets on something behind you. He smirks, white canines a dangerous nod to his power.

A familiar hand rests on the small of your back, the other landing a harsh smack on your ass. You scream and fall forward onto Taehyung, face fully buried in his cock now. He laughs heartily, running a hand through your hair as a weak excuse for comfort.

The hand behind you does not stop after one smack. It goes in for second, then third, and before you know it, your ass is burning with stings and pussy wetter than the ocean behind you. The pain ignites something viciously erotic, cradling your heart enough to make you whimper. It’s the idea of being used, you assume, and it only makes you perk your ass up higher.

His raspy scoff makes you shiver, spine tingling with excitement. He gropes onto your ass and grunts, “Don’t try to be a good girl now.”

Tangling his fingers in your hair, Namjoon uses this harsh grip to shove your face further against Taehyung’s crotch. He pulls back and tries again, making sure your mouth engulfs his friend’s cock this time.

“You want to suck his cock, huh? Then fucking suck, you little slut,” he growls.

Your face flames with embarrassment. You can’t even bring yourself to meet Taehyung’s gaze. He merely laughs through a moan, leaning back on his hands as he watches you choke on his cock. You really can’t take him all in one go; you haven’t even found a way to take Namjoon in a single motion. But, your boyfriend couldn’t care less. He pushes your head down and keeps it there. Your jaw aches, throat burns, contracting around Taehyung’s thickness enough to make him throw his head back. Tears spill and spill and you foolishly think this will be the height of his punishment.

Then, in he goes.

“Such a wet little bitch,” Namjoon hisses as he pushes his cock into your pussy.

You let out a strangled whine against Taehyung, much to his pleasure, and attempt to spread your legs, but Namjoon keeps them in place. They’re barely a hip’s length apart. The pain prickles against your pussy’s wall, making you gag a sob around Taehyung’s cock. The pressure of Namjoon’s huge dick behind you and the weight of Taehyung’s in your mouth trembles your posture. You shake under the intimidation and it doesn’t help at all that Taehyung’s dick is suffocating you.

Namjoon pulls your head up the moment he fully enters. Gasping, you try to catch your breath. You inhale deeply each time, worried Namjoon will shove you back down on Taehyung’s cock without warning. Instead, he gives you a quick moment to breathe, ramming in and out of you like he’s riding a stallion.

Taehyung, eyes half-lidded, admires the way you drool and babble all over yourself. You heave, holding his gaze long enough to realize he’s mocking you, tongue out and breathes exasperated. Then he laughs and Namjoon laughs, and your pride shrivels up. Dignity on the brink of shattering, you try to avoid his gaze, biting your lip to swallow your moans as Namjoon works his way in and out of you.

But Taehyung will not have any of that. He nudges your wet chin back to him and teasingly pouts. “Is baby embarrassed?” he asks, tone more menacing than that taunting gaze of his. You glare at him, but he doesn’t seem fazed. Cupping your chin, Taehyung squeezes your cheeks to pucker your lips. “Answer me,” he seethes.

Parting your lips, you’re about to confirm his statement when Namjoon grunts behind you. He thrusts his hips particularly harder this time and your balance crumbles. You fall over Taehyung. He catches you with his lips, his hand trailing from your face to your neck and gripping onto it like he owns it.

Namjoon is displeased. With a growl, he snaps his hips up, balls shoving their way in you too. Your teeth knock with Taehyung, causing him to grunt and glare at the god behind you. You watch him stare your boyfriend down while tightening his grip on your neck. He goes to say something, a curse judging by the placement of his lips in his teeth, but Namjoon pulls you out of his grasp before Taehyung can even get a syllable out.

Replacing Taehyung’s hand with his own on your neck, Namjoon pulls you back up against his chest. His other hand wraps around your waist. Lips to the shell of your ear, he hammers into you and whispers, “Don’t go forgetting who you belong to.”

You hold Taehyung’s hard stare. His face reddens, cheeks drawn into his mouth as he glares. You whimper, pouting and nodding to Namjoon, but neither one of them seems convinced. Taehyung’s brows raise as if you’ve given him some sort of sign, and Namjoon’s hissing warnings against getting carried away.

“Better not say his name.”

Out of sheer spite, you part your lips to utter the other’s name. However, the word is consequently pounded right out of your mind the moment it emerges. Neither god gives you another moment to develop a reply at all as they battle for your attention. A part of you wishes that each of them simply takes turns, but you already know how useless that would be. Neither one of them will be willing to wait and watch. Namjoon already slipped himself in, the act of watching being too distant for him.

And it seems to be the same for Taehyung as well. He can’t sit still, can’t just watch you get ravished by someone else. You catch the annoyed twinkle in his eye darkening every time Namjoon makes you scream. Swallowing thickly, Taehyung shifts so that he’s lying by your knees and pulls the plump, upper flesh of your pussy apart. Then, smirking, he dips his head in and enthusiastically sucks on your clit. Teeth grazing, he bites and nibbles, drawing the most high-pitched squeals out of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pushing his face further against your pussy.

Namjoon huffs a groan against your cheek. Pounding in full force, he loosens his grip on you a bit. Your hips jolt forward, Taehyung’s teeth clamping down on your clit. You cry out, both hands back over Namjoon’s arm. The god by your knees did not escape unscathed either, his lips slightly bruised from the hit. He drags his gaze up to you, glare deadly.

Guts twisting in ecstasy and guilt, you whimper and shake your head. “Sorr-”

Your apology clinches in your throat as Namjoon tightens his grip on it. “Shut the fuck up, you filthy whore,” he grunts into your hair.

Taehyung catches onto Namjoon’s sly gesture quickly, hungry eyes aflame for vengeance. “Keep her still, or I’ll fuck her into the ground.” His deep voice tickles the swirling pit of your stomach. So rich and raspy, his dulcet voice guides you closer to your orgasm than you’d be brave enough to admit.

Subsequently, Taehyung relatches his lips to your clit. Namjoon swallows enough of his pride not to shake him off again. And you shudder as high doses of ecstasy creep over your nerves. It pumps your veins with excitement, anticipation and sheer joy. Even when they’ve mocked you and used you as a pocket pussy- a set of holes, you cannot deny how horny it makes you for them.

Namjoon huffs your name in your ear, whispering about your tightness, about how he knows how fucking close you are. “Baby is gonna cream,” he mockingly coos. “Do you want him to taste you? Are you that much of a slut, you want another man to taste you? He’ll get addicted.” Namjoon grunts thrice before continuing, “But you already know that, right? You want him addicted. You want him to worship that little cunt of yours, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, yes, oh fuck yes!” you screech. Whether it is in reply to his questions or simply a reaction to the dual assault of your pussy, you’re not quite certain. But, Namjoon is. And he’s irate. Shaking with anger, his pounds reach a pace unknown to gods, even Taehyung raises an impressed brow.

Your next intake of air cinches somewhere in your throat. You try to scream, to cry, to make some sort of sound as your cum rushes out of you. Gushing, slouching, your pussy makes enough noise that your mouth doesn’t need to. Both men fall victim to it - to you - anyway. Squirming in Namjoon’s hold, there’s very little you can do. Your mind is foggy, vision blurry, but it doesn’t stop either of them. A distant clash of throaty moans fill the fields, though you can’t register much of that either. Your ears are ringing too much to hear more than your own heartbeat struggling to keep up.

Taehyung growls, his hands constantly knocking against Namjoon’s. Your dazed gaze falls to meet his. Eyes blazed with sexual frustration, he claws at your hips and pulls you forward against him. Namjoon, however, keeps a strong hold on your waist. Your torso’s his for the taking. He grabs hold of your chin and whips your head back to him.

“You look at me when you cum,” he seethes. “Or you won’t cum at all next time.”

Half a breath escapes you in response, but it seems to be half a breath too late. Namjoon emits a raspy groan so sinister it would be a crime to simply call it a growl. He roars. You feel the vibrations of the sound in your spine, another dose of your cum rushing through you. Then, all too quickly, he lets go of you. It takes his hands off your chest for you to realize your legs gave out long ago. You instantly fall to your knees. Taehyung is quick to catch you in his arms. Lips inches apart, Taehyung looks ready to share some of his oxygen with you when Namjoon orders, “Turn her around.”

Taehyung glares over your head. Gulping, his lips twitch in a fake smile as he lifts you. You, however, cannot let him give in that easily. Besides, nothing is better than angering the god of war. His stubborn, victory-bound heart will not rest until you submit to him over Taehyung. And, throwing you into the enemy’s arms does not seem like he’s trying hard enough to win, to discipline you. So, after Taehyung turns you around in his lap, you press a passionate kiss upon his lips, slipping your tongue in for good measure. Taehyung snakes his hand between your legs too, fingers playing all too much for you to stay silent. Between kisses, you sneak a glance at Namjoon, finding Taehyung already doing the same thing.

Towering over you, skin inked, nipples pierced, muscles flexed and slick with sweat, Namjoon huffs. His jaw is locked, a gesture you’ve learned isn’t at all meant to be comforting. With his cheeks sucked in and a brow quirked, Namjoon jerks himself off to the sight of you so openly defiant.

“Open your dirty mouth,” Namjoon orders through gritted teeth. “I need to clean it out.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, his fingers ceasing their movements as he cups your sex instead. “So dramatic,” he teases, earning a cold stare from Namjoon.

You resist the urge to giggle, having to choose your battles carefully. Taehyung has already gotten too much attention anyways, you decide. Pushing his hand away from your pussy, you ignore the wet kisses Taehyung peppers upon the nape of your neck and gaze up at Namjoon with your mouth open.

He bites his lip to keep from smirking. And, with a loud, chest drawn groan, he releases his load all over your chin and breasts. The warmth of his cum sets your skin ablaze. It feels just as thick as it tastes. Licking around your face, you try to swallow whatever you can get. A little smile breaks out on Namjoon’s face, swelling your heart with pride.

However, Taehyung isn’t as moved by the gesture as you are. He tangles a hand in your hair and pulls your head back against his shoulder. “That’s enough of that,” he breathes over your face. Then he wipes the rest of Namjoon’s cum off with the pad of his thumb and pecks your lips. He rubs the cum into your nipples, teasing them between his thumb and forefinger.

You almost forget Namjoon's presence. That is, until he grabs hold of your ankles and yanks you right out of Taehyung’s hold. With a loud gasp, you’re on your back, legs spread and Namjoon at the center. He gazes lazily down at you, like handling your body is a casual passtime. There is something glittering within that suspicious ease, however. Something cocky, angry, and terrifying. Hand around your neck, Namjoon jerks you off the floor and shoves you back into Taehyung’s arms.

The golden god catches you with a grunt. He draws his brows together in confusion, silently questioning Namjoon. He parts his lips, but your boyfriend huffs, cutting him off. Namjoon grabs you by your bicep and turns you around to face Taehyung.

After making sure your legs are spread and straddling the other god’s waist, Namjoon seethes, “The simplest instructions.” His warm tongue darts out to lick the shell of your ear. Between nibbles he continues, “You can’t even follow the simplest instructions. That can’t be easily forgiven anymore, baby.”

You’re not quite sure what he means, considering he’s never punished you in this position before. Usually, being on top is a reward. He grants you a sliver of control, consequence free, when you’ve been well-behaved. This level of generosity is a rarity. However, as Namjoon pushes you further into Taehyung, with you wrapped around his torso, you begin to wonder what kind of punishment you’re in for, and which one of them is administering it.

Of course, these thoughts are fleeting as Taehyung’s fat cock prods around your pulsing hole. Sparks of bliss set to flames the nerves bunching around your clit. You shudder each time he brushes his tip against it. Petting your hair back just to grab it, Taehyung breathes a chuckle into the crook of your neck. He licks and sucks on your delicate skin like you belong to him. And for a split second, you almost think you do. The sweet, wet kisses and the way he eases into you only just has you forgetting that Namjoon is standing over you, watching as another god worships.

With a smack, your memories jolt back. The sting of both cheeks makes you all too aware of his presence now. You cry out, falling over Taehyung clumsily. The spank hit so hard, so fast that it even has Namjoon hissing from the impact. Even still, he smacks you again and again and again. “You still have no idea what you’ve asked for, do you?” he questions.

You thought you did. You hoped you did. But, as Namjoon spanks you with added force, you realize just how right he is. You whimper into Taehyung’s shoulder. He’s kept his cock warm in your tight, clenching hole when Namjoon begins to get vicious with his spanks. Chuckling and mocking you in whispers, Taehyung finds your suddenly all too obedient state entertaining. It flames your face with shame, your entire body caught between wanting another serving of cock or slaps. He imitates your whimpers, coaxing more tears out of you before hissing, “If you had any real shame, you’d get off my cock and go suck your boyfriend’s.”

“She’s a fucking slut,” Namjoon answers, landing another slap to your tenders cheeks. “Why’d you stop fucking her?”

Some humanity flashes in Taehyung’s eyes as you nuzzle your face against his. He mutters something incoherent, along the lines of, “She can’t handle it.”

“She can!” Namjoon grunts as he finally rubs your pain buzzed ass. A shaky whine escapes you and tickles Taehyung’s ear. “You can take it, right, baby?” he asks, digging his nails into your flesh.

You whine in agreement. It’s not enough. He needs to hear you say- scream it. Grabbing a handful of your hair, he peels you off Taehyung enough for him to get a good look at your face. He folds his hands under his head, smirking at the sight of you so shattered by pleasure of being in pain. Face flushed, wet, cum stained and eyes innocent, your features fold in raptured anguish.

Namjoon roughly kneads your right cheek while pressing the length of his cock against it. “Can you take the fucking like a good girl?” He mockingly coos. It juts a chorus of shivers down your spine.

You squeeze tight around Taehyung at the thought. He rasps your name. Namjoon growls lowly, rubbing himself against you as he warns, “You’re not gonna make me ask you a third time, are you?”

Taehyung shifts his hips, cinching your breath at your throat from the stroke of friction. Why did he have to be so big, so pretty and hot staring at you like that? Why’d you have to go tempting gods you know you can’t keep up with? You regret angering Namjoon, realizing that jealousy is the worst power trip you can feed a god. They both want to watch you fall apart, crumble into a pile of bones. Tears spill at the thought, pussy aching around a cock too big to adjust to. Every nerve feels so sensitive, so overused, yet you need to cum again.

No. You can’t take it. But, you’ll be damned if you tell either of them that. And as Namjoon lays another sharp smack on your cheeks, tingling with pain, you circle your hips around Taehyung’s and cry out a broken, breathy and utterly desperate, “Y-es!”

Taehyung grips onto your hips, pulling you half out. You expect to be plunged onto his cock with a new degree of force, but find another one attempting to squeeze in as well. Namjoon’s monster cock pushing into your pussy alongside Taehyung’s. Your jaw drops, eyes roll back as that viciously delicious stretch strangles your soul with bliss. He enters you slow, but sharp, knowing full well that the both of them cannot fit.

Neither cares. Both gods create a quickly speeding rhythm of thrusts into you. Body jolting forwards, breasts shaking over Taehyung’s face and ass bouncing against Namjoon’s hips. He hunches over you to groan your name in your ear, voice husky with lust and dominance. He repeats the word like a prayer. Every syllable drips slow out of his lips like thick molasses when his voice reaches such depth.

You try to lean back into him, but Taehyung keeps you in place with the tight grip on your hips. “Stay still,” he grunts against your nipple. Then, he sucks on it, teasing the little nub between his teeth.

You moan a little too loud at Taehyung’s ministrations for Namjoon’s liking. Both hands locked on your ass, Namjoon pushing your cheek up and against Taehyung. You lose whatever balance you had weighted on your arms, falling flat against the sun god with a squeal. His cock fully plugs into you and when he tries to thrust up against you once more, Namjoon growls, “Both of you stay still.”

A shiver tickles your spine with the wind. As Taehyung kisses your neck, you attempt to sneak a peek at your boyfriend over your shoulder and push your ass back into him. He’s sweaty and huffing. The peachy sunset behind him halos around his muscular frame. He’s so pretty when he’s mad, all those veins lacing his inked skin like little spider webs. His gaze finds yours, that annoyed look intensifying in his eyes when you wink at him.

And though it was completely innocent, it still switches something off in Namjoon. He shifts his tight grip on your ass to the small of your back then, all at once, presses down onto it with the entirety of his strength. A series of loud cracks elicit from your spine like the fire of a gun at the start of a race. And away go his hips as he rams in and out of your too full pussy.

Screams and sudden sobs pour out of you and onto Taehyung as the both of you get shaken by Namjoon’s force. You know your back isn’t broken, blown out maybe, but definitely not broken. You just didn’t think this would be the result of his jealousy and anger. Did he think you were mocking him with that wink, with Taehyung? Perhaps some mocking did occur with Taehyung around, but he’s always liked your snarkier side. He tells you to behave because he knows you won’t and adores it when you don’t. But, maybe you did take it too far, and give into Taehyung too much. You really wish you can say, with all this overstimulating and teasing and taunting, that you regret it all.

Only, you don’t.

Clutching tighter onto Taehyung’s shoulders, your tears fall as freely as your broken moans. Namjoon smacks his hips over your ass, pounding your pussy like it’s just you two here. It’s not as though Taehyung is lying under you, obsessing over how tight you are and just how amazing you smell.

“You know why he’s so mad right,” he questions quietly, voice strained. When you shake your head, he chuckles and whispers, “Because he knows how much better I make you feel.”

The whimper that leaves you was by no means a response to whatever Taehyung was going on about. Though he gives it to you great, he doesn’t compare to your boyfriend. You suppose Namjoon knows this too, somewhere within that deep connection you two share. Still, he holds you further down against Taehyung, practically melding your body into his, and thrusts at an ungodly speed just as he did when he caught you sucking Taehyung’s cock.

You’re not sure either of them understand the load of pleasure they are washing over you. Taehyung has his giant cock stationed in your pussy with his tip pressing continuously against your g-spot as Namjoon’s monstrous cock jabs at it again and again.

Body trembling, voice broken, you squeal, “I’m- ahhgh I’m gon-na cuu-uum.”

“Me too,” Taehyung husks in your ear. It has you clenching tighter.

Namjoon scoffs through a moan. “No, you’re fucking not.”

“But, Joon-”

A harsh smack against your ass silences your protests. “You know what to do when you’re close,” he grunts.

Yes, you do. But there isn’t much time to beg. You have two huge cocks in you and if he thinks he can coax some sort of plea-

“Fuck,” you cry as he spanks you again.

“ASK!” he roars, hands on your back just to make it crack all over again.

Drooling, whimpering, eyes rolling, you somehow find it in you to hold back your orgasm long enough to beg, “Please, fuck, just let me cum! Please, please, Namjoon!”

“Just fucking let her cum,” Taehyung grunts.

Namjoon snakes one of his hands up your spine, hips still ramming into you all the same, and latching onto your hair. Slowly, he peels you off of Taehyung and holds you against his chest. You screw your eyes shut in an attempt not to cream both their cocks.

With his lips at your ear, he whispers, “Look down at him.” After forcing your eyes open and down at Taehyung, who looks all too pleased with your ruined state, Namjoon orders, “Thank him for a good time.”

Panting, lips a spitty mess, you whimper, “Thank you for a good time.”

Taehyung rubs your thighs. “She’s just as fun when she’s a good girl,” he hisses to himself.

Namjoon chuckles, wrapping his free hand around your throat. “You’re my best girl either way,” he whispers to you. The praise makes you shiver, your orgasm almost slipping right out of your control.

“Please let me cum now,” you cry. “Please, I need it.”

Taking a deep breath of your scent, Namjoon peppers little kisses along your jawline. “Shall we all cum together?” he asks before nodding to Taehyung. The sun god’s hips jolt back to act and soon each one is back to taking turns to smash your already too sensitive spot.

You nod energetically. Truthfully, you don’t care if either one of them cums, just as long as they let you do it now.

Taehyung shifts one of his hands further up your hips, his thumb working fast and small circles over your clit. You’re quaking, head thrown back against Namjoon’s shoulders, eyes rolling and screwed shut when Namjoon orders you to look at him. You force them open enough to watch a wicked swirl of power and lust gleam in his eyes. With a single breath, lips hovering over yours, he whispers, “Cum.”

Your vision spots black before failing all together as an extreme dose of ecstasy floods your senses. Their growls collide with your breathless screams in a cacophony of pleasure with each shot of cum they fill you with. And you return the favour, coating each cock with more cum than you think you’ve ever offered. In and out, they still go, desperate to leave you dripping with the impression of both of them for days.

Namjoon spits in your mouth a bit and chuckles quietly when you still find it in you to swallow it. “You just had to be a fucking brat, hmm?” he groans as both his and Taehyung’s thrusts slow down. “Are you satisfied now?”

You hear his words and think that maybe you are processing them, but you really can’t find enough of your voice or energy to respond. Heaving, you know your body gave out well before he even got you in this position and blew your back out. You don’t even realize that you’re slobbering all over yourself until Namjoon licks it all away. Only little whimpers and whines manage to reply to him. It only strengthens that power blown look in his eyes.

Taehyung suddenly pulls himself out of you. Or rather, Namjoon pulls you up and off his cock. Then, he stands up on his knees and presses a soft kiss to your mouth, despite Namjoon’s annoyed groan. “And thank you for such a great evening, my-”

“She’s not yours!”

You watch through somewhat blurry vision as the two gods glare at each other. Taehyung then glances over at the fig vines laced around the orange tree. With a smirk, he nods. His hands fondle your breast one more time before he grabs what little clothes he came with. Then, with the sun, he’s gone.

Basking in the glow of the moon, Namjoon slowly pulls out of you. His touches are now all too gentle to even register, or maybe your skin is simply still on fire from such a rough fucking. Either way, he’s careful in how he handles you now. Cradling you to his chest, he helps you lay down. He kisses your forehead and mutters, “Take a deep breath.”

You do so. Again and again. When you’re breathing somewhat regulates, your mind finally catches up with where you are now. Resting in Namjoon’s arms, his silk skirt draped over your body like a blanket, you gaze up at the stars.

“He planted figs,” Namjoon mutters.

You shift against his chest before shrugging. “He did.” You’re not sure why that simple detail seems to tick him off so much. They’re just figs.

“Do you still like oranges though?”

It suddenly clicks in your head. His anger translating into worry. Does he really think that you’d give him up for Taehyung? He should know you well enough to know he’s your world. And if you weren’t so sore or weak, you would have gotten up and picked the ripest orange and shared it with him. Instead, you turn in his lap, suppressing the urge to hiss at the sparks of pain running up and down your back, and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love oranges.”

He fights off a smile, but relief reflects in his gaze. “I’m sure they love you too,” he mutters like he hasn’t told you so before.

It all doesn’t matter too much anyways. He’s yours and you’re his. No other god, no matter how many times they stop by, will change that. This is, after all, your orange tree.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

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ticklefits · 2 years

Note

Heyy would you be open to do 18 with Klance? No worries if not, hope you have a great week ✨💛

OOOOF this is so horrifyingly late, i hope you had a stellar week yourself and that u enjoy this silly lil thing i made kjhgkfl

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18. “Wait… That tickled?”

“You sure you wanna do this, Lance?”

The Altean ambassador in question nods, lifting the sword he had borrowed from Kolivan and shifting into a stance of defense, though from Keith’s perspective, it was a little weak. “Yeah, c’mon⎯ you can’t be the only cool swordsman around here.”

A roll of tempest eyes ensues, Keith’s own frame moving to settle into a proper stance that was ready to strike. “You’re already our cool, resident sharpshooter. Where did you get the idea to learn how to use a sword?” On the edge of those words lies an obviously teasing tone, one coupled with a gesture of his hand that told Lance to make the first move.

Anticipation flares within the pit of his gut, but he does as instructed, lunging forward with a swing of the steel in his grip. Keith easily blocks the attack and counters with a parry, one that further impairs his posture and makes it all that much harder to make a comeback. Lance grunts and dips at the hips to dodge an oncoming slash, stretching backwards in a lean that narrowly avoids the side of the blade. What Lance doesn’t realize is how much closer Keith’s gotten to him and with a launch of his arm, gloved digits press into, squeeze at and push at his opponent’s stomach, forcing him to collapse right on his ass. The strange thing that occurs, however, is the fact that right before Lance took a dive, Keith heard his boyfriend giggle.

“Wait,” Keith begins, a thick brow ascending along the surface of his temple, the corners of his lips perking into a budding smirk, “⎯That tickled?”

Lance’s eyes widened at Keith’s realization of accidentally hitting at a sensitive spot, but his pride refuses to permit him to give in. He releases a defiant huff through flared nostrils, scrambling to rise back up to his feet and attempting to will the spread of blossom-pink heat away from his cheeks.

“N-No! It did not! That was a cheap trick you just did Keith, take me seriously!” Yet when the aforementioned moves to sheath his sword as he advances, Lance knows right then and there that he’s fucked. There’s an immediate squeak from the amateur swordsman when Keith closes in, hands up in the air with fingers wriggling slightly at Lance.

“Cheap trick? I’m offended. All I did was knock you down, you’re the one who’s so ticklish that merely touching your stomach was enough to get you giggling.”

And Keith is rewarded with yet another giggle, observing with a smugness now sewn into his smirk as Lance backs away from him. “H-Hey, c’mon, Keith, nohoho⎯”

“No, what?” The tonality of his words feign an innocence that even Lance knows is fake, but it doesn’t help the anticipation and butterflies swirling about in his stomach, “I’m not even touching you, babe.”

“Not yehehet!” A small oof leaks from Lance’s lips when he notices something hard behind him, denying him further space to continue his fleeing from Keith. He’d backed right into a wall, and now was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Keith was quick to diminish the distance between the two of them, Lance leaning as much into the wall as possible with the hopes that he would just sink into the surface of it and escape his impending doom.

But he just wasn’t that lucky.

“Not yet,” Keith mimics, yet not even a moment later, digits settle on Lance’s sides and stroke at the cloth covered skin, “Now I am.”

“Keeeheheheheith!” Giggles burst from the sharpshooter’s chest, immediately squirming against the wall as his hands grip onto Keith’s wrists, with all the good that’ll do him. “N⎯Nonononohohohoho!”

“Think of it as stamina training, Lance.” That’s an excuse Keith has utilized before to justify tickling the shit out of the other male and it’s grown tired, especially to Lance, but it works as a tease all the same.

“I⎯⎯I dohohon’t neheheheed sta⎯hahahamina trainihihihihihing!” Lance had indulged in a minuscule break from the throes of battle and missions as the new Altean ambassador, but he was more than ready to dip his toes back into the water and wash off the rust of complacency. Keith, on the other hand, is more than ready to test out his current progress.

“I dunno.. It seems like you kinda do. I mean, look at how much you’re already sinking to the floor, just from a little tickling. You’ve gotta get sturdier than this, babe. Especially if you want to get on missions with me.” The Blade of Marmora has gifted Keith an exception to their rule regarding non-members attending missions with members, so long as Lance is personally trained by and vouched for by Keith himself before setting foot out in association to them. It's a blessing, yet also something of a curse as well, to the both of them.

“Okay! Okahahahay, I geheheht it! I’ll do beheh⎯betteheheher! Plehehehease, stahahap!” Lance’s pleas huff out in short breaths, his giggling reigning over every other verbal function of his body and his wiggling growing worse by the second.

Considering they still had hours of training left to achieve, and Keith could always continue this playfulness later when the situation was a bit less serious, his fingers slow to a halt and remove themselves from his boyfriend’s physique. He leaps back a bit, cautious, as though Lance may try to enact a vendetta right there, despite the slightly taller male indulging in the opportunity to suck up some air.

“Alright then. Pick up your sword and let’s go again,” In tandem with his words, Keith unsheathes his own sword once more, legs shifting to return to his prior battle stance, “I want to see improvement on your stances and more power in your swings. If I manage to knock you down again, I’m gonna tickle you again. Got it?”

Lance gulps, but the threat ignites a heat under him that he hadn’t felt before. He imitates Keith’s stance and performs it much better than earlier, earning a gaze of approval from his love. A bit of confidence rushes through and leads his charge with a swing that Keith actually has some difficulty blocking. They continue on like that for hours, training and aiding one another in becoming even stronger, to the point that when Hunk goes to check on them, he notices them huddled up together against the wall, dozing off against each other.

#k writes.#tickle meme.#klance #voltron #lance mcclain #keith kogane #vld #ticklish!lance #lee!lance #ler!keith

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dirtychocolatechai · 3 years

Text

meet-cute | b.b.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Warning(s): fluff, awkward Bucky, vet appointment stuff, Alpine Request: Babes if you're lowkey taking requests can I lowkey make one? 👉🏼👈🏼🥺💕 something flirty and cute and maybe a lil spicy with Bucky and vet!reader where something's going on with Alpine? Not self indulgent at all 😻💖 Notes: This was the first thing I’ve written in months and it felt damn good. Funny story, I actually almost went to school to be a vet tech + shadowed a vet for two weeks and got to see some wickedly cool things.

This was a bit self-indulgent on my part because I had a cat who passed away some years ago because of struvite stones and I wished he had a happier ending like Alpine so I thought why not 🤷‍♀️💖

Taglist is open

(gif from google)

There’s nothing Bucky hates more than the stringent smell of industrial cleaners and clinical white walls - too many associations and shades of memory long laid to rest - except for when something’s going on with Alpine. The Turkish Angora was fine up until a few days ago when he started to hide away and sleep all day.

That wasn’t too concerning at first...

But then came the pained little noises, the frantic running back and forth from the litter box, the excessive grooming. The pit that started forming low in his belly grew, his instincts screaming at him that something was wrong, very wrong, with his little buddy.

Bucky wasn’t about to fuck around and set up an appointment with the first vet office he could find that had a same-day opening. And now he’s trying not to fall apart at the seams while he waits for the docs to do their magic and tell him what the hell’s going on with his cat and what he has to do to fix it.

The vet tech collected Alpine a bit ago and every minute stretches into years, the cat’s pitiful meow echoing in his ears and those betrayed eyes burned onto the backs of his eyelids.

I know, Bub, I’m sorry but they gotta figure out what’s going on. It’ll be okay, they’ll take care of you.

His ass went numb from the plastic chair ages ago, his leg jiggling up and down at a rapid pace as he chews on his thumbnail and waits.

And waits.

God, he knows these things take time but he’d rather be back at home, curled up on the couch with Alpine pigging out on breakfast food and watching space documentaries.

How much longer-

“Alright, Mr. Barnes?”

The heavy door swings open with a click, a kind, professional voice preceding a pair of sensible shoes as the vet steps into the room with a clipboard cradled against her chest. His eyes snap up, skipping over her completely to look at the tech holding his cat who looks absolutely miserable.

She introduces herself but he’s not paying attention. He’s not meaning to be rude but all his focus narrows in on that white little face, the knot in his chest unfurling at the little mew.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he breathes, “Hey there, Little Buddy.”

The vet doesn’t push, in fact, she seems a little enamored with how much he melts at the sight of his pet. Her own lips quirk up into a soft smile while she stands off to the side patiently as Alpine’s set down on the metal table.

Bucky gets in a few good scritches under his chin, the beginnings of a purr just starting to vibrate his hand when the vet clears her throat delicately.

He clears his throat, heat burrowing into the apples of his cheeks. “Shi - uh, ‘m sorry.” A hand scrubs over the back of his neck. “I’m just - uh - y’know...”

Her laugh trickles down his spine like warm rain, the sound effectively drawing his attention away from the cat rubbing up against his side. He gets his first look at her and oh.

A bare face and a no-nonsense hairstyle greet him, her scrubs and white coat adding to the overall doctor vibe but she’s still breathtaking. The natural beauty in the curves of her face, the slant of her brows, the sparkle of her eyes.

He feels like he got sucker-punched in the chest, his heart giving a sudden throb that has him coughing like an idiot as he scrambles to not look like such a jackass.

“So,” he clears his throat, scratching at the stubble along his jaw, “What’s - what’s wrong with him?”

Glancing down at Alpine’s chart, she hums and writes a note before glancing back up with a reassuring smile. “Nothing that can’t be managed with a special diet and watching his water intake.”

It’s like the weight of the world disappears from his shoulders, his broad frame practically heaving with his sigh of relief. “Oh thank fucking- ahem, ‘scuse me - thank god.”

Her chuckle and sly smile have him blushing from the roots of his hair to the collar of his shirt, his stomach squirming in discomfort. Old habits are hard to break, especially ones his momma taught him with a box to the ear.

“You’re allowed to swear, Mr. Barnes,” she says, reaching down to run her fingers through snow-white fur. “We’re all adults here.”

“No, no, I know...”

“Hm, anyway, his blood work came back and everything looks fine which is a good thing.”

And it’s back to business like that, any hint of personality hidden behind cool professionalism that Bucky thinks even Tasha would admire. Except for the playful gleam in her eyes as she sneaks peeks at him while going over everything they did and what they found.

“Struvite crystals are quite common in cats at low levels, especially males because their tract is longer and narrower.” She pauses, flipping to a new page. “Depending on the severity, they can clump together in the urinary tract and actually form stones. That’s where the true problem lies because get one large enough, and it can cause a blockage.”

He’s listening with rapt attention, soaking in the knowledge she’s imparting to him all the while, petting Alpine who keeps nuzzling him and making little sounds. Honestly, he could listen to her talk for hours even if he didn’t understand a goddamn thing.

She’s so animated when she speaks, holds eye contact and makes sure he understands everything without making him feel like an idiot. He’s had so many doctors who talked at him rather than with him, staring through him without seeing, more interested in the paycheck rather than their patients.

But not her, she cares.

Deeply.

He can see it all over her face and it’s utterly enchanting. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little enamored, charmed.

Turning the tablet towards him, she shifts closer and a waft of whatever perfume she’s wearing tickles his nose as she explains what the x-ray of Alpine’s abdomen found.

“These are the stones but thankfully they’re relatively small,” she points to several hazy white ovals starkly visible on the radiograph, “We caught them in time before they became a really big problem.”

Shit, she smells so good...

“Now, we’ll send you home with a special diet and see how he does. Also, make sure to up his fluid intake as much as you can. The food can take several months to start dissolving the crystals so we’ll have to do everything we can to help. Sound good?”

Bucky hasn’t pulled his eyes away from her face once this entire time, and how fucking creepy is that?

Quickly looking down at Alpine, embarrassment gnawing at his belly, he nods and wishes for the first time since he cut his hair that he hadn’t so he’d at least have a passing chance at hiding the blush burning its way across his face.

“Yeah,” he says, picking up the ball of white fluff to hold against his chest, a makeshift shield. “Is there anything else I should do?”

“No.” She smiles, writing another note and tapping away at the tablet next to her. “I do want to see him again in about a month for a check-up.”

Fuck, he doesn’t want to leave so soon.

The irony isn’t lost on him either.

How does he make this last longer? What can he do? If Sam was here right now, he’d be kicking him in the ass and bitching at him to ask for her number already, Ice Pick.

The clack of the chart being set down rings through the room, bouncing off the walls and sounding so fucking final that he starts to panic.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

She’s already halfway to the door when she asks, “Do you have any questions?”

The word vomit spring from him, unbidden and sudden without any thought, more forward than he’s been with a woman in years.

“Can I have your number?”

As soon as the question leaves his lips, he curses, cringes and wishes he could snatch the very words from the air itself.

Great, I just hit on my vet.

No amount of backpedaling can salvage this but goddamn it if Bucky doesn’t try, stuttering out some half-assed excuse about wanting it just in case he thinks of something later.

When he glances up, he wishes he hadn’t. The vet tech is in near tears in the corner, biting her lips so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if they started to bleed.

But it’s the absolute surprised bafflement on the woman he just inappropriately hit on that does him in, makes him about ready to burn all forms of identification and run for the hills.

Her brows nearly reach her hairline, her mouth slack, eyes startled. She gets ahold of herself before he does, and he barely stops himself from slapping a hand over his face.

Right when he’s thinking there’s no way he’s going to be able to show his face in the office again, her expression softens with gentle amusement and her lips twitch.

Struck dumb, he can only watch as she writes something down on a slip of paper before handing it over to him. He barely believes the string of numbers and the cheeky little call me anytime :).

The wink she sends his way is there and gone, so fast he almost believes he imagined it.

“For emergencies only,” she says, slyly. “Of course.”

“Of course,” he agrees, almost tripping over the cat carrier as he hurries to stuff Alpine back in. “Of course, thank you. I...appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky leaves the room in a stupor, the world sharply shifted to the left as he heads to the front desk to make the follow-up appointment, but not before hearing the whispered, “Girl, you’re lucky. He’s fine!” and the “He is, isn’t he?”.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Text

KISMETS (Part 3)

Harry Styles x Preggs Fem!Reader.

Frenmies to lovers to parents, Dadthon!!H

Oral Smut, dirty talk and teasing.

Angst! Angst and fluff!! N' tooth rotting fluff.

Dadrry, bestie!h, boyfriend!h

Author's Note: The concept's kinda weird but if you've watched F.R.I.E.N.D.S and Phoebe Buffay carrying child for someone. You've got it my pal!

MASTERLIST PART 1 PART 2 LETS TALK/ ASK

The morning light cocoons them with softness and they don't care if they're sitting in a pool of blood.

"I love you too, so much." She hiccups pacifying down not wanting to never be to able say them again as Harry runs a hand at her back, limbs still tangled with eachother, whispering sweet things to her while Miss. Dori pulled her placenta out, "Y/N?" He panics when she dulls in his arms head lulling at his shoulder and heartbeat slowing down to feeble line. Gently pulling his face out from the cave of her neck he pats her cheek worriedly, again, at her unconscious state, her head dangling back over his wrist, "Y/N!?" His heart squeezing tight miserably into his ribcages when she doesn't respond to his calls.

Harry and Y/N are back being to besties and enjoying being pregnant together.

Warning: Mentions of blood, pregnancy trauma and natural childbirth hurdles.

Eyes gives it all. Even the hidden treasures get's looted from the mere mistake of someone's gaze just like right now when he's pretending to be confused as ever, "what? Called her myself . . ." He frowns and she sniffs frozen in her position feeling exposed from the vulnerability of being naked infront of him; tries to cover herself criss-crossing her arms over her chest.

"Why'd you d'that?" She hiccups wiping her blushed nose and his pupils bursts wide into realization. Immediately, cradles her face tenderly stroking the apple of her cheeks shaking his head vigorously, "Oh -— no. no. no baby told her to come over to take her leftover stuff if not I better give it to charity."

"O . . okay." She sucks in a breather. Without a word he removes hers arms away in a gesture that you never need to hide from me. Kisses her shoulder blade stroking her wrists and her pulse in circles.

"Don't cry, lil penguin. Why're ye' cryin'?" He asks in his most gentle voice feathering her cheek with the back of his hand, "'m . . . 'm scared." She tries to recoup her cries holding her breath causing her cheeks to puff like a fish.

"Let's get you cleaned warm and nice. Then we'll talk yeah lovie?" He slides her elbows behind his neck holding her strongly to walk them to his bedroom. Gives her a bath full of vanilla bubbles, essential oils, scrubbed her back and would trail kisses up her belly from under water making her giggle and weave her fingers into his own wet curls.

Him loving all three of them's the most adorable thing.

Got her ready for mid-nap with his sweater and boxers putting fur pads atop her ears, aloe fused socks on her feet and turning the heat a bit to sleepy temperature. Tucks a quilt under their chins and snuggles her closer to himself letting herself calm to his heartbeats before she speaks her heart out to him, "wanna talk? What you're scared of babe tell me all of it. Knows that I'll handle." He slips further into bed bringing her thigh around his torso and her head atop his buff chest.

She exhales loudly trying to subside the emotional feeling of crying along with each word that comes out of her mouth. Her bad habbit of grounding everything to the pit of her stomach until it blasts into a massive destruction always gets her into worst scenarios.

"'M worried about alot of things –- actually." She peeks up at him and he's already looking down at her genuinely with relaxed self to let her know that nothing has changes and he's still her bestfriend who'd wait for her till she manages to speak, "about what?" He encourages her petting down her hair.

"Everything like 'like future . . 'n — me being a good mum after all of that 'm uni too. . . the semester would start right after the month of my delivery." She furls her toes to keep her anxiety at bay level cocooning her womb cause she feels the safest with the assurement of her babies being with her, "about my career and what about me dreams? What if I'll never get to chase 'em?" He listens to her diligently boring his gaze to the way her lips mold with each word. Sighs gently rubbing her arms up and down salutating his palm around the side of her neck to tip her face towards him. His lips lingers at her temple murmuring against it, "Together we're gonna do this."

"You're gonna be the kindest and bestest mommy ever Y/N. I belive in ye' and about your dreams. I'll take care that nothing comes in the way to stop ya . . You'll attend UNI same as before 'cause 'm takin' a break to be with our babies till your done with your degree." He declares to her seriously and honestly running his hand all over her spine to assure her in every way possible, locking his ankles with her under the sheets.

"'M a big boy now! A daddy to two babies don't underestimate me miss gremlin!" He grins impishly smushing his cheeks into her side wide spreading his palm atop her tummy warmly with bare fingers, "'kay gotcha!" She giggles cuddling into him with droopy eyes inhaling the same scent she's lathered in from the sweet spot of his neck.

She wakes up in the evening satisfied and happy with the nap marks, sweaty baby hairs, a bit of drool at the corner of her mouth and Harry already awake but still spooning her. He's her pregnancy pillow.

Covers her mouth with his pinky and ring finger when she yawns cutely stretching beneath him slowly blinking. Proper stops with his intense loving gaze still on her and blushes hard when he pecks her dry lips after sleep. Her chest heaves with his kisses and snogs trailing down between the valley of her breasts making her card her fingers through his chocolate curls. Whimpers ever hoarsely raising her hips in air for some friction and to levitate the throb in between her legs asking for him to release the ache away.

He takes the hint scooching closer to her side nudging her knees wide stroking the flesh of her thighs with tickling pinches. She whines fisting sheets with yearning arch of her back, "insatiable lil thing aren't ya?" He gives a toothy grin wetting his lips making her pause in her heave of getting his fingers instead flickering her vision over his candy plush lips.

"Kiss me?" She whispers and how couldn't he when she's looking this soft, warm and full of blush from the nap. He was litreally nutters for not ever pondering over the thought how alluring and attractiveness her satiny features hold, "'course darlin'." He tips her chin towards himself letting her sweet cushiony lips fuse against his's into an ardent kiss shooting her libidos 100 times higher than before making her moan pathetically into his mouth.

Her forearms winding around his shoulders instinctively and exhales through her nose not pulling away from the kiss and squeaks lowly when he bites her lower lip pulling away, "'ve got asthma y'mad mad woman." He gapes down at her dramatically fiddling with the bow of her panties. They skim down to her mound feeling the slickness that has spread all around and the rough trim of hair, "and I've got an extravagant sex drive!" It whisks into a breathy gasp of dense air when he slid his digits in between her slick folds flickering her swollen clitoris and repeating till she's panting for more.

"Sad innit? 'S me fault. I should be the one to help my girl out." He mutters trailing sweet kisses down her swollen belly to her pelvis snapping the elastic with his teeth causing her to jolt under his firm hold. She's too floaty else the statement of him claiming her would have swiped her away into a paradise of never ending imaginations.

"Mhmp. What did ya had fo' lunch lovie'?" He licks her juices off from the inside of her thighs sending intense quivers to her core. His palms smoothes under her thighs to hike them up and over his shoulders nipping at her skin when all she did was responded with a gasp, "d- dunno forgot . ." He perks his brows to his forehead commenting playfully while dipping down to tickle her with his curls.

"Pregnancy made ye' loose your braincells, moppet?" She raises her hand to smack him at head instead tugs his hair when for finally he flattens his tongue thickly against her wet cunt to give a good mind boggling lick sucking her clitoris in the way, "asshole. . ." She moans squirming like leaf under him but he quites her by taking her sensitive nub between his teeth to give a little graze and pull. It makes her pussy lips flutter and her hole leak with so much wetness it sticks to Harry's chin.

"H – ha . . rry. Harry." She tries to grind her hips against his mouth but he tuts brushing his pads around her dripping hole to tease her, "yes baby?" Groans of annoyance fills the room and she shoves her face into the pillow bitting down the snarky insults thrown at the curly head.

"Not gonna give ye' me fingers till you ask fo' it." He smooches wet filthy kisses letting her stickiness coat his lips stirring a ball of fire in her pit, "shut up." She whines nudging him with her knee telling him to do something to relax her.

"Make me." He smirks tilting his head to suck her petal fold creating dirty seductive noises on purpose. She huffs taking the matters into her hands pulling him up towards her by a hard grip onto his hair, "ouch ouch!!" He quips shutting his eyes tight.

"Harry Styles you make me cum or I'm never letting you fuck me ever." She glares him and he gives out a defeated sigh naughtiness still lurking in his moss of irises, "bossy – kay! Sorry! Was kiddin' babe. 'M all here to please ye'." She nods her head curtly shoving him back down and he giggles at her when in an instant from an angry lil penguin she melted into a mush of gooe when Harry thrusted two fingers at once inside her curving them once they were buried snug deep.

"Yes. Yes. Yes." She gasps moving her hips along him that he stayed in his place eating her out while his fingers pushed in and out of her tight pussy with squelching noises, "fuckin' tight urghh." He grits rubbing her clit into harsh circles with his other hand, mouth on her cunt and fingers fucking her continuously.

"Want more?" He asks and she bobs her head not even processing what he said almost loosing the idea of her presence feeling too much ecastasy and over the clouds, "here take as much as ye' want baby." He slips another third finger admiring the way her pussy stretches swallowing his fingers, "'m gonna lick your little wet cunt off then clean it with me filthy tongue to make a mess of ye' all over again filling you full with me cock. Sounds good baby?" He knows she's the shy lil bean and his sweet enthusiastic words of vulgarism heats her up enough.

"Gonna come. Harry --" She tips her head down and back in air eyes rolling into her sockets. Harry rubs her outer thighs soothing her thrashing body, "shhh baby relax. You can cum on me fingers." She obliges him softening in his arms and her pussy makes soppy noises gushing with each wave of pleasure throbbing around his digits while he works her out to make her feel as giddy as he could, "That's it baby girl. That's it cum fo' me again?" He prods at the sponge of bump inside her seething through her twitching walls making it impossible for him to pull out and tent his cock against the bed leaving a spot of how turned on he's at the moment.

But, his first-most priority is her. It always was her maybe more than Chessie

"Happy my lil lioness?" He comes back on top of her arms digged on either side of her temple and she tries to squint from one eye pulling him to herself planting a rewarding kiss at his cheek, "how 'bout a pizza from Tommy's place?" He lays ontop of her (like half ontop of her and half on his side; just to share her warmth).

"Can I have an extra topping of olives, pretttyy pleaseee?" She makes a weird funny face to convince him, "but you're allergic to 'em." He frowns sitting up thumb hovering over the contacts popping on the screen. He has everything memorized she's allergic to; it's not much peanuts, olives and clay dough ( she claims that she ate it once when she was possibly 5 and it swelled her flesh up ) not that she's gonna nip at it now but Harry couldn't trust her cravings at all.

"But 'm craving them sooo baddd." She clutches the hem of his tattered shirt pouting but he retorts with the shake of his head intervining their fingers together to kiss her knuckles, "Nope moppet. We don't need another hospital visit at fou' in the morning like last time, do we?" She remembers it. A very angry Chessie at his doorsteps while he helped her walk inside this home post hospital visit.

"I hate this." She huffs folding her arms against her chest, "I know. How about we delay getting y'sick once babies are out?"

"You kidding?" Her mouth slacks turning into a widespread grin at last, "absolutely not. Pizza without olives yeah?" He smacks a kiss against her open mouth loudly before his phones rings at the pizza place.

Harry's the busy bee. From grocery shopping to making the list of all the organic food he needs to line up his pantry with, he took everything's responsibility on himself. Cause mama has a huge duty for wrapping two babies in her womb safe and heated. Even when she tries to bend down to put a plate in dishwasher he skates near her supporting her back and scolding her, "all you've t'do is eat and nap. Dunno fucks count 'cause we fuck alot — chill sweet baby. 'switch onto telly 'm bringing banana milk and cookies." She pouts because she doesn't want to be a burden on him. She wants to suspect any tiredness from his features — the way he's been on his trippy toes for her from eight and half months but how much she tries she couldn't instead he looks way more giggly and joyful than before with never ending dad jokes and teasing bum pats.

They indeed fuck alot. Harry loves that she's always sleepy and clingy — he thinks he's truly, deeply and madly in love with his lil penguin but they're in the middle of train's track whose destination is atlast confession of love but he wants to wait. He can't wait though. He's always been impatient and light from stomach can't sleep at night without sharing a word of his swimming thought with anyone. He shared it with Nialler, it was at three in the morning after Y/N sucked his cock dry with so much admiration for his prick he was bout to cry and blurt out but he didn't. Cuddled with her and oreo practically on his face then ringed his lad startling him up, "why did ya wake me up fo' something we all already know Harold? Do I've to teach ya lessons cause now that would be a shame to your kiddos." He grunted dropping the call leaving Harry baffled and alone to his thoughts again.

"Sweet angel . . " He cooes jarring the door to his room with his foot. She has moved in to his house, from guest room to his room and his heart. Told him she didn't like sleeping alone and gets the most amazing slumber squished up against his chest in his arms. He was ardent that she completes him. He's right. She does. Always had but this time it's till they're getting old and wrinkly.

Lilac walls glow from the telly's illumination and the flicker of light from their open wardrobe. His ears perks at a repulsive groan and his brows dips to tune into the situation, "what are ye' doin', pet?" He asks confused at the sight of Y/N in a funny position with a razor in her hand standing in the middle of their wardrobe trying to duck and see through her huge bump.

"'M tryin' to shave me legs — seems impossible though." She throws her head back to convey her annoyance and Harry chuckles placing the banana milk and the plate of dark chocolate cookies atop the drawer island taking her wrist which's holding onto the razor, "you don't 'ave to it's just a maternity shoot –- no biggie, moppet." She huffs. Their faces at level and intimately close to have a good stare in eachother's eyes.

"No biggie!? it's the first time I'll get to have someone take me pictures, all, personally fo' me." Her smile pouty as she tries not to break her disgruntled facade down.

"How 'bout the times, I was a victim of ye'r endless pictures taking sessions?" He squints down at her. Hands out of instinct fumbling by her sides to feel her warmth on his skin, "you were sooo shittt at that job."

"Kay, kay then, lemme just –- hand this razor, I'll shave ye'r legs pretty girl." Happily she shoves it in his grip while he knees down hiking her leg ontop of his knee. His pink tongue popping out in concentration. She trusts him in this because last time he was the one to shave herdown there. Taking a sip of her banana milk she taps the straw against his lips speaking, "a bestie in need is a bestie indeed." With his eyes on her ankle and his pretty hands which could make her come infinite times right now working so diligently, He gives her a high five taking a sip himself.

She breaks a cookie forwarding it to Harry and he looks up — so being all dramatic she acts shy and blushy turning her gaze away in a swift, "what baby?" He laughs putting her other foot on his knee his grip tight around her ankle.

"Don't stare at me calves like that you creep." He wipes away the crumbs from his lips giggling and making her giggle, "I've literally shaved your cooch days before." She jabs her big-toe against his nipple getting a high pitched squeak from a grown ass man in return.

"I hate you!" She says through the spurt of chuckles and his response in return turned both of them silent, "I know ye' love me." Their cheeks blazed. Eyes twinkling. Hearts doing lil dance dance but nobody from them tries to break the comforting silence knowing they'd word vomit the instant they'd.

They say "I love you." And "love you." in their normal routines without making it a mess of shyness. But the butterflies at that specific moment when the epiphany dawns on the pair that they really are in love with eachother makes their tummies float in void with butterflies.

"All done!" He announces enthusiastically kissing her knee like she's a princess in distress and the words burns at the plush of her lips, "love you."

"You too, lil penguin." He smiles boyishly.

"Oh fuck, I forgot we're gonna have shoot in our pyjamas." She yells in a low hum and he rolls his eyes slapping her ass, "rotten you're."

"Oopsies."

A maternity shoot in their back garden along oreo never seemed this fun when they were gushing about it days prior. Nialler gifted them cute baby pink coloured matching pyjamas with yellow peaches pattern, mommy and daddy embroidered on them. They even matched some fluffy kitten hats too!! A pair of yellow and pink with kitten ears with goggly eyes, big cheshire that of Oreo.

Their close friend Onna was all up for the shoot and nothing's more adorable than Harry's soft hands around Y/N's belly in a protective way, while they sat on the fluffy growing grass and cotton flowers. Her back resting against his taught chest, his legs wrapped on either side of her and oreo almost stretching atop her bump quenching loud belly ache laughs from them.

"Two pictures 'n 'm already tiredd, pff." She gasps shuffling a little to activate her sore bum and Harry pecks her shoulder cutely, "some more 'cause you'll grump later." Onna captures each every second of their tooth rotting interaction.

"Oi. I'll not!!" To avoid a banter Harry taps her chin pointing towards the camera speaking, "last one doll, one to show that we really are pregnant." Onna's laughing at their techniques. Shaking her head with each shot of overloaded sweetness she traps in her camera.

"I. Am. Indeed. Pregnant. Pet." She looks down with wide eyes rubbing her prodding tummy in circles, the top button litreally about to pop and Harry's face adorns with a naughty grin showing his bunny teeth, "Me too!!" He squeals rubbing his moth covered belly the same way she's doing and it sent both girls into fits of laughters.

"Sillllyyyyy." She sing-songs throwing an arm around the nape of his neck to bring him closer and smooch a loving kiss to his cheek, "you're gonna be the best dad." She whispers eyes closing into the diameter of his scent and he rests his lips against her forehead. Onna having a smile of adoration for her friends while she did her job, laying down to capture this one beautifully.

"Yeah?" His voice just audible to them. "Uhmm." She nods fiddling with the collar of his pyjamas and their bubbles pops when oreo tugs at Y/N's top revealing her graceful babies bump.

"You batty creature!!" She tries to grab oreo to smoosh her in her arms but oreo gallops miles away before it could happen.

The whole last night Y/N couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning with whines of complaints to a snoring Harry on her side. When Harry woke up she was already staring him like an owl scaring the poor thing, cause it wasn't a loving one. It was a proper creeping stare with baggy eyes and pouty lips, "can we have 'em out already?" She snuggles into his throat and he massages her head.

"In a week." He grogs out stroking his cheek against her's, "Have ya taken out all the required papers?" He asks her and she nods with a yawn. Today's the enrollment day for Y/N's next semester -- Harry will go to her UNI to talk to the administration instead of her.

"I'll be back in no time, till then try havin' a good rest, want some donughts from that one shop near ye'r UNI?" He thumbs at her baby locks. She shakes her head murmuring into his flimsy sweat shirt, "not feeling like it." Dunno what happened. She was alright after for finally her sickness went away but today she feels like shit because of her Braxton hicks climbing to painful peak.

Kissing her head last time he untangles himself to get ready and she watches him buttoning up his cuffs with his curl dangling over his eyes, he's looking handsome and a bit too out of her league with the crisp white shirt and chequered trousers.

He squats down pecking her lips. Her nostrils filling with cinnamon ocean-y smell soothing the tick of her nerves. Her body reacting to even the air pricking at her skin, "don't miss me too much, lil penguin." He gives her an eskimo kiss knowing she's feeling down and tired today the way she has her face squished into pillow and isn't trying even to cup his cheeks like she does everytime he leaves for something.

He puts her phone on the nightstand tugging her under the sheets, switching off the lamp and slowly exists the room not to disturb her. She doesn't know when he leaves but the pin-drop silence tells it all and she's half conscious half awake with fluttering eyelids.

She turns on her back with a groan to get rid of the dull ache in her pelvis and outer thighs — but then she feels something . . . . something wet between down there and it makes her snap open her eyes blinking blankly at the ceiling. Tries not to think of bad scenarios but it's otherwise.

"Holy cow of jesus." She fists the pillow under her sitting up with much difficulty and to her worst horrors the sheets are sploched badly. She stands up with her spine almost bending in two — staying calm and positive even when a heavy gush of water trickles down her legs soaking the rug. It has nothing attractive in it as they show in movies but rather feels like a dam leaking and a litreal adult peeing in their gowns.

She snatches the phone from nightstand putting a firm arm beneath her belly walking out of room, her maternity floral white gown clinging to her skin. A tinge of shock weaved through her bones but that didn't made her loose her balance. She wants to throw the phone against the wall when the line always beeps busy, "already missin — " his honey of voice bringing tears in her eyes.

"Get your ass back home!! Right fuckin' now!" She yells into speaker trudging forward with carefull steps. He pushes onto breaks hard, panicking into his seat, "What happened!?" He's quick in turning gears speeding back home. Her lips wobbles blue from pain and the unbearable throb between her thighs. Words struck in her throat as she tries to speak gripping the globe of stair railing leaning against it when a hard contraction striked against her spine.

"'M going into labour — " Harry's heart falls into his arse. His vision blurring from the intensity of the moment and he's thanking Gods for being five minute drive away from home. How many times they prepared for this time it all went in vain and now Harry's beating himself for leaving her side at all, "'m comin' home, it's okay baby, it's okay breath." His lips stammers from an invisible fear and fingers twitches around the wheel.

Wanted to shout at him "breath, my ass." Instead She gasps loudly in fright when she feels her cervix dilating to the maximum point and it did the last fireworks for her tears, "no, no, noo!!"

"'M giving birth!!" She shouts kissing her teeth together to keep the pain at the bay hooking a thumb into her panties, scrunching her dress up to press them under her armpits and squatting down with the heels of her palms pressed with so much strength over the last stair case, "what? oh my — 'm calling our midwife." She can feel a head trying to force it's way out from her vagina and it rakes out a sob from her chest.

"Please be gentle with mommy, 'm coming." Harry says and it comes out as a weak whisper while he drives sitting on the edge of the seat and Y/N's ears are ringing with white noise to even pay attention to what he's saying. Her gown drenching with sweat and she screamed at the top of her lungs pushing with her all might scaring a sleepy oreo in her bassinet, "Shit." He mutters tugging his curls back immediately calling their midwife. He wishes his babies could atleast wait for him to be there with their momma.

"Miss. Dori !! Y/N has gone into labour, 'm out, dunno —---" There's loud urgent shuffling on her side that of picking stuff and closing metal boxes as she assures Harry with firmness, "I'll be there in just 10 minutes, till then reach there as quick as possible. She needs you Mr. Styles." It collects sweat at the dip of his spine sky rocketing his anxiety. His breath elevating at the sight of his society's gate and if it was possible he'd have flown to her.

Parking hastily on the side of road and leaving his car's door open — dishelved he steps outside almost falling square on his face while the old couple that use to sit at their porch in mornings watch him with concern, "Is everythin' alright son?"

They ask and Harry nods yelling to them, "Y/N is in labour!!" His face blowing out of any color when his ears fills with painful screams of his lil penguin and his fingers jumbles with keys unlocking the door.

It's surreal. The realization not completely setting in that all of this's happening right at this moment, that he's going to be a daddy in some hours, Y/N hunched over the bottom stair squatting down with thighs wide apart and her gown soaked against her back. His breath knocks out of his lungs and eyes bursts into shock when he sees his baby's head pushing it's way out in between her legs.

"I can see it's head! I can see it's head oh m'godness." He announces rushing towards her and Miss. Dori guides him, "Harry help her pull it out, cup the baby's head and if it's shoulders are grab-able, have it out." He places the phone atop the stair sitting down beside Y/N kissing the side of her head quickly wiping her tears away.

"Hi baby, it'll be alright, 'm here now let's pull our bubba out mighty quick." He presses his chest to floor to look down there and if Y/N would have been in her good state of mind she'd have butt him in not to. His brows kinks tightly together as he tries to concentrate and not to pass out from the sight of blood and his blood covered infant half hanging in it's mother's v.

Gently he wraps his shivering palm around it's head and shoulder moreso figuring out if it could itself comes out, "push a bit more, moppet." She shakes her head furiously crying and trying with all her will, "It's hurts!!" He wishes the process wasn't that painful.

"I know, I know baby —- oh okay okay! We got him." He cackles through his worry taking him all out and in his arms having a good grip around it's tiny waist fearing it would slip. Y/N takes a huge sigh of relief muscles loosening and shoulders slumping. She could hear him sniffing close to her with little noises despite of how much she wants to hug him, she still has another one to bring out in the world.

"It's Elios." He grins with ablazed glossy eyes stroking his tweeny baby hair back. Though his excitement shatters into pieces as he cries to Miss. Dori, "He's not breathin, n'--not breathin' what do I do??" He has switched into his fight and flight mode. Fat tears spilling down his cheeks. Y/N wants to have him in her arms and make sure her baby's healthy but a hard contraction makes her bones jello with her another baby trying to pop out.

"Calm down Mr. Styles, Is his cord wrapped 'round his neck?" When Harry couldn't mutter a single word just shaking his head ear to ear staring down his little one with fear and sadness, Y/N screams for him, "No!!"

"It's nothin', clean his nose, it's probably some clotting blocking his breathing passage." Harry acts on her instruction without wasting a time and the threshold's walls bounced with prattle of his low coarse cries, "Oh my god!!" Harry gasps holding his baby boy closer to his chest not giving two fucks if his shirt and skin stains with thick blood.

In the meantime Miss. Dori and her assistant nurse tramps through their door. Cutting the cord Nurse takes Elios from Harry's arms and takes him for a cleanup as Harry leads her to their nursery. When he comes back Miss. Dori has their other bubba already out and it's worth watching him flying into clouds of paradise, full of glee, happiness, so much happiness has never experienced before.

"Hi. Victoria." He keeps his voice soft if she's a chinese porcelain doll and would break in his arms. He loves his son to core but the way his heart just swirled with fondness and love for his daughter the second she was layed into his embrace was something else. He's tender with her and from just gazing her it spurt out a sob from the deepest of his tummy, "she was so stubborn to come out rather than his brother." Miss. Dori tells him and his head perks up with proud adoration. Handing her to nurse he turns his gaze back to his exhausted lil penguin leaning against the wall now. And scoots closer to his bestfriend, the love of his life and the mother of his babies.

Hugging her warmly and affectionately, winding his arm around the nape of her neck to smoosh her into his chest while she cries against his throat. Being tender and the softest yet sweetest he could be with her, pressing his lips against her ear to whisper words that made her cry even more loudly into his bicep, "I love you, I love you more than anythin' in the world, 'm s' soo proud of ye' baby, me soulmate and the love of me life. I promise to love you forever and infinity." The world blurs around them and their heartbeats latches to sync in with eachother. The morning light cocoons them with softness and they don't care if they're sitting in a pool of blood, mess of the beautiful birth of their gorgeous twins.

"I love you too, so much." She hiccups pacifying down not wanting to never be able say them again as Harry runs a hand at her back, limbs still tangled with eachother, whispering sweet things to her while Miss. Dori pulled her placenta out, "Y/N?" He panics when she dulls in his arms head lulling at his shoulder and heartbeat slowing down to feeble a line. Gently pulling his face out from the cave of her neck he pats her cheek worriedly, again, at her unconscious state, her head dangling back over his wrist, "Y/N!?" His heart squeezing tight miserably into his ribcages when she doesn't respond to his calls.

"'M listenin', pet." She whispers smiling weakly and Harry's lungs nourishes with air, "Scared me baby love." He hugs her again with a wobbling pout and this time she tries to console him.

"Y'okay baby? Should we go to hospital? It's better if —--"

"'M okay!!" She simpers kissing the dip of his collarbone. Carefully he smoothes an arm down her back and knees picking her up bridal style to take her to their bathroom for a hot nice bath full of essential oils. He caress her face, trailing his knuckles down her cheeks, gazing her fondly while sitting down on the floor beside her with his one hand inside the warm water to lull around her calves.

"I love you, you've given me such beautiful babies. 'Ave ye seen Tori ? She's a proper you, that lil bunny mouth of yours, aish." He giggles and she squeezes his fingers in a silent gesture to tell him how happy she's. Drying her clean with a towel and moisturizing her body, making her wear her comfortable gown.

When he tucks her under sheets she babbles with droopy eyelids and tired body, "can I see my babies?" He smauches a kiss against her forehead, "After a teeny rest, yeah angel?" But, she was already out like a bulb making him chuckle softly.

Miss. Dori left the kind nurse behind with them till Y/N wakes up and with her help Harry lays down the twins on either side of their mommy. Deeply pondering how lucky he's to have his family completed and healthy, tucked into their mother's armpits.

He giggles and holds his breath in awe when Elio wriggles in his blanket, scootes his bum closer when Y/N yawns and stretches, "how ye' feelin'?" He brushes her loose tresses back and she nods attempting to sit up.

"Good." Thanking him when he gets comfy amount of pillows behind her, "wanna hold them?" He asks as she ducks down to kiss both of their soft skins.

"'M arms are still shakin' . ." She chuckles, "no biggie, I'll help ya out, a bestie in need is a bestie indeed." She giggles loudly startling Tori and Harry hushes her comically scooching behind her embracing her in a heated wrap from behind chin resting over her shoulder, "shh, gotta be quite with this one — such a light sleeper bub."

"This's Victoria Anne Styles and Elios Vincent Styles." He supports her one forearm with his's under: giving Elio to her and having Tori in his other, "are you presenting them to me as some kind of award for my bravery, pet?" She nudges him playfully and he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

"Such nice awards, innit?" He gives her an eskimo kiss and she puckers her lips asking for a loving smooch of his candy lips, "absolutely."

They took their first nap together with Harry and Y/N on either side of bed with their babies in the middle of their warmth just like a nest of sparrows, safe, comfy and utterly snuggly with the couple protecting their dainty creatures of soft flesh from the storms of outside.

"C'mere baby . . " Harry usheres Oreo with the snap of his thumb as she tries to canoodle into the soles of his feet tickling him and she obliges his tone, "Good girl . ." His own voice tired petting her crown when she turns into a lil ball of fur beside Tori who's sleeping at her daddy's side, being ever hesitant and carefull with them making Harry smile at her thinking of giving her treats in dinner.

He almost slips from under the sheets when a shriek of cry jolts him awake and it's Tori crying loudly thrashing under the blanket while her brother kept on sleeping stretched over his mommy's chest, head tucked under her chin.

Ah! Here comes the real deal. Daddy Harry's about to face real challenges 'cause we all know he once promised that he's a big boy now, innit?

400 notes · View notes

justmaybee · 3 years

Text

Feather Sensitive

Summary: Oh, Yamaguchi’s really done it this time. He should just keep his mouth shut from now on. Unfortunately, that’s the exact opposite of what Hinata wants.

A/N: Y’ello! Another off-brand one, but hopefully a fandom peeps recognize. I haven’t seen Haikyuu in a lil, but I love Yamigoops and this has been 90% done for forever so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Based entirely off the second headcanon here, by @ticklishnonsense — absolutely loved it and you can tell cuz I wrote this ages ago for no other reason than having it written down for myself~

A big thank you to OP for letting me use her work as inspiration!!

———

This was a mistake. This was a mistake. This was a mistake.

Yamaguchi can’t will his mind into more elaborate thought, because it’s all just suddenly sunken in.

Hinata’s weight, heavy but not uncomfortable, resting snug on his hips. The loose tank top, just slightly too big on him, stolen out of Kageyama’s stuff at some point during one sleepover or another. And that ridiculously giant feather Hinata’s got poised between his fingers, like it’s a quill and Yamaguchi is a trembling, twitchy sheet of parchment about to be marked up.

When had he told Hinata? Why had he told Hinata?

Tsukki had figured it out, years and years ago; during one of their many one-sided tickle fights, Yamaguchi thinks. It’s been used against him for as long as he can remember, stray fluff from down pillows and blankets brushed over his neck or feet to pull a sudden and squeaky laugh. He’s never, ever told Tsukki just how much it really tickled though, and Tsukki never asked.

So why did he have to go and mention this to a person just as skilled and merciless in tickling people—often Yamaguchi people—into boneless puddles of teary, hysterical laughter?

It’s got to be Hinata’s charm. If Tsukishima has his cold, borderline apathetic, poise to lay base for his killer teasing method, then Hinata’s strength comes in his natural curiosity. Wide eyes, a light voice, and an openness that makes Yamaguchi feel like he can talk to him.

This, apparently, is not the case in a topic involving feathers. Because Yamaguchi will apparently lose all sense of self-preservation and voice his thoughts on how unbearably sensitive he is to a thing most people will flinch at and brush away like nothing.

But of course, it’s too late for him to realize his mistake now. It wasn’t until Hinata came barreling down the hall, shopping bag in hand, to tackle Yamaguchi to the living room carpet that things started rolling into motion.

Now Hinata’s got Yamaguchi pinned, arms under his knees and a big, big smile stretched over his face. It’s so genuine and excited that Yamaguchi finds himself getting a little lost in it, at least until the feather comes back into focus.

“I mean come on, Yamaguchi.” Hinata holds the quill of the feather and traces the soft end up his own arm, dusting it over his collarbone and getting just a hint of a twitch out of his lips before twirling it between his fingers. “I almost think that you’re lying to me.”

But his face must convince Hinata otherwise, because he doesn’t look like he thinks it’s a lie. The tracing of the feather, even along Hinata’s skin has Yamaguchi twitching, breathing funny. Goosebumps rise along his arms, and Hinata is so riled up with energy—so ready to take Yamaguchi apart—that it’s practically impossible for the brunette to even try and stop the wobbly smile making its way onto his face.

Hinata is the one to burst the bubble of anticipation building slowly in Yamaguchi’s gut. He laughs, a delighted little sound, commenting on the cute pink of Yamaguchi’s blush before he goes in for the kill. And Yamaguchi has never been that great at holding back his reactions, especially when he’s already a tense and flustered mess untouched, so the result is pretty immediate.

The first giggle slips hesitantly out of his throat but clears the way for many more as Hinata gently traces the base of his neck, skimming over his collarbones like even a feather could break them if used too harshly.

It’s a little timid, a little reserved, which is a major change of pace from Hinata’s usual quick and dirty way of fighting. He’s always had a ‘take no prisoners’ sort of approach to a tickle fight; either win outright or die trying, but the new method seems to slow him down a bit.

He’s thinking, watching. And luckily, for him and most certainly not Yamaguchi, the change seems to work really well with the soft touch of the feather. Pulling giggle after giggle from his victim and making him sputter at the attention when he realizes how closely he’s being observed.

The plume travels slowly up Yamaguchi’s neck, high enough that he’s able to jerk his head to block out either side as it passes. Unfortunately, that just causes Hinata to speed up the back and forth strokes, attempting to dodge Yamaguchi’s blocks. And it’s effective and so much more ticklish, Yamaguchi chokes on his sudden snort and tosses his head back on impulse, laughter getting louder and more desperate as Hinata takes advantage of the newly exposed skin.

He keeps at it until Yamaguchi feels light-headed, a little delirious with his laughter completely unchecked. The feather strays to flick up over his ear, and the whimpering laugh that comes out keeps Hinata there until Yamaguchi’s shoulder is twitching spastically of its own accord, desperately trying to stop the light, constant brush over his sensitive skin.

He gets a break—thank God—after a few minutes of this. Being dubbed most ticklish in the house (after many, many tests) has left him with pretty high stamina. But somehow a few minutes of Hinata and a feather has him panting for breath like he’d just finished a hundred laps around the gym.

Yamaguchi is so caught up in catching his breath (and trying to calm that tic in his shoulder) that he doesn’t really think about how breaks aren’t much of Hinata’s style either.

His floaty mind comes to bite him when he feels two soft points of contact touch down on his wrists.

His arms jolt on instinct. His elbows move a smidge in either direction but stick firm to the ground. Hinata’s smile takes on a wicked gleam and...oh boy.

If Yamaguchi gets out of this alive, the others will have some real competition for scariest tickler.

The feathers sweep back and forth, back and forth over his arms. They start at the wrist, and would almost feel nice if not for the impending sense of doom that has blood rushing through Yamaguchi’s ears right now.

The swaying movement drifts up, painfully slow. He doesn’t even think it tickles that much right now, but that doesn’t stop him from physically biting his lip to stop the snickers from making their way out.

It’s when the pair reach his inner elbow that first crack appears. Yamaguchi gasps and Hinata perks up, keeping the feathers there a moment longer, letting them sweep side to side a little faster.

From there the cracks spiderweb exponentially.

The gasp ends up turning into a snort. As Himata continues his path upward, it becomes a whine. And when he’s at the faint line where his skin darkens with a tan, from long summer days spent out in a t-shirt, he decides to flick the feathers in an alternating pattern over either arm.

It has Yamaguchi rocking back and forth in a way that he guesses might look kind of funny. Hinata starts laughing anyways. And of course, it’s enough to get Yamaguchi’s lips to loosen and let out the stream of bubbling giggles he’s been suppressing for far too long already.

His arms feel warm, almost as hot as his face, even though their air conditioning has been working pretty decently lately. There’s a faint tingly feeling still left where the feathers had once brushed his skin.

Everything already feels so sensitive, and Hinata isn’t even there yet.

There are butterflies having a—a mosh pit in his stomach right now. He can’t remember the last time he felt so wound up getting tickled. Then again, he can’t remember the last time Hinata put this much...care? Is that the right word for this situation? —into destroying him.

It makes Yamaguchi a little happy, for some reason.

And sometime about that moment seems to be the limit for Hinata’s concentration, because the change from gentle, teasing touches to his usual form of attack is both quick and excruciating.

The moment after, when Yamaguchi suddenly has two feathers sweeping fast little strokes under his arms, his brain completely short circuits.

What leaves his mouth can only be called a shriek and it’s quickly drowned out by the squeaky, panicked laughter that floods the room immediately.

His chest is jerking side to side in vain. There’s hair in his eyes and a little in his mouth from how violently he’s tossing his head around, but he can’t register a thing beyond the millions of wispy, light strands fluttering a fast track over and over and over the soft and sensitive skin beneath his restrained arms.

Hinata gets the bright idea to not try and jam the delicate things towards the floor anymore. He instead tries twirling them in a circular motion in the spaces underneath Yamaguchi’s arms.

Yamaguchi didn’t think his voice was high enough to screech like he used to, but ‘Hey, you learn something new everyday,’ he thinks, entirely delirious.

His back arches off the ground, head tossing back then pressing into his shoulder as if it’ll somehow smother his hysterical laughter.

It’s bright and desperate and so, so loud. Yamaguchi would typically only reach this point when someone’s feeling particularly ruthless with plenty of time to spare, but it could be hours since Hinata first got him pinned down; it sure feels like it.

There are weird little squeaks that pierce the air when he’s got the breath. His limbs are doing this constant squirm that’s got him feeling hot all over. His lashes feel wet and he knows it’s a matter of seconds before the tears start to fall.

But nothing is more prominent than the feeling of soft, soft, so very soft; and it tickles, it tickles, it really tickles.

———

When Yamaguchi’s brain finally starts rebuilding from the mush, hiccuping giggles making their way through his gasps for breath, he feels Hinata still sitting on top of him. Thankfully—mercifully—though, the feathers are nowhere to be seen, and his hands have been let free.

Seeing Hinata’s hand in his peripheral makes him flinch, but he just wipes at Yamaguchi’s cheek, brushing away the leftover moisture.

“I had to stop because you were starting to look like a strawberry,” Hinata grins. His skin is cool against Yamaguchi’s. He leans into the touch.

“So...was that awesome or what?” Hinata continues, voice energetic though he still rubs a soothing motion over Yamaguchi’s cheek.

Yamaguchi takes a second to reflect. On the dreamy tiredness seeping into his bones, the floaty high that fills up his head.

He nods, once or twice. Though from where Hinata’s sitting, it could just be Yamaguchi nuzzling into his hand. That’s fine. Yamaguchi could use the plausible deniability.

Once he’s been declared as officially ‘not a strawberry anymore,’ Hinata helps him up. He only stumbles a little bit, but of course Hinata has to poke fun.

“You know what that means?” Hinata throws out, arm linked with Yamaguchi’s as they make their way to a well-deserved seat on the couch.

Yamaguchi hums in response.

“We’ve gotta start building up your tolerance.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widen, but he’s pushed onto the couch with a lap full of Hinata before he can say anything. He looks up at Yamaguchi all big eyes and a bigger smile. Yamaguchi swallows.

“We’re doing that again, soon.“

#bee stuffs #tickling #tickle fic #Hinata #Yamaguchi #based off the og post #there’s some college poly first year vibes #but it’s up for interpretation idk #ticklish!Yamaguchi #as he de-serves #Haikyuu

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harrysweasleys · 4 years

Text

are you ticklish? // c.d

summary: can i request cedric diggory baking with the reader? i just need a lil fluff in my life 🥺 i LOVE U AND UR WRITING SO MUCH I HOPE U KNOW THAT! THANKS!

warnings: there’s no plot. its just fluff, my friends.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: sorry this is so late! i have been having writer’s block for like two weeks now so production has been slow here lol. thank you all for being patient! (also i’m sorry this doesn’t involve baking per say, but i hope you enjoy anyways!)

——————

The smell of warm, gooey cookies filled your shared home with Cedric as you sat yourself in front of the oven, impatiently staring into the little window and counting down the fifteen minutes until they would be ready. It was hard to stay away from them, you thought. The smell was just teasing you — taunting you, as if saying ‘the cookies are in progress, but you can’t touch them just yet.’

Cedric, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his tea, fought the urge to chuckle as he watched you, seated comfortably on the floor with a blanket wrapped around you and a silly grin on your face.

Oh, how he adored you. Every little thing about you. From you desire to crack jokes only to see people laugh, to the way small things — like baking — would render you utterly happy. He had fallen for you all those years ago at Hogwarts, and never regretted a moment of it. You captured his attention as much now as you did all those years ago.

He watched, content as ever, while you eyed the timer above the stove.

“Come sit with me,” you reached out to him, giving him a soft smile that he knew he couldn’t say no to even if he wanted to.

He placed his mug down on the counter and leaned down, sitting on the cold floor and scooting as close to you as he could. His heart did a little flip as you lifted your arm and wrapped your blanket around him — he could smell you and feel the heat radiating off of your body. He really did love it.

“It smells nice in here,” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He nodded softly before leaning his head against yours, lifting his hand and placing it atop your knee, “It does. Bet they’ll taste better than they smell.”

“Well, of course they will,” you scoffed, poking him in the side and causing him to jump slightly at the ticklish sensation, “Cookies always taste better than they smell. Besides, smelling them doesn’t put them in my belly.”

Cedric couldn’t fight the laughter that bubbled within him, the vibrations from his body causing you to let out your own laughter. He found your laughter infectious — unique in its own adorable way — so your laughter only egged him on to laugh harder.

The two of you were just sitting on the floor, wrapped in a blanket and staring at an oven, giggling away while the clock on the wall flashed 2:34am.

“Reckon we’ll have any left tomorrow?” Cedric found himself asking after a few moments of silence, the comfortable air in the room not previously needing to be broken by conversation.

“Nope,” you replied rather quickly, lifting your head off of his shoulder and giving him a toothy grin, “I’ll eat them all while we go watch telly in bed.”

Cedric had recently introduced you to a Muggle service called Netflix — which you had to admit, you really liked. It was hard to go to sleep without watching a few episodes. The two of you had recently started a new series and were up late binging it — only, you had had no snacks.

That’s how the two of you ended up in the kitchen at this hour of the morning, the smell of chocolate cookies wafting through the quiet apartment and the low rumble of your stomach signalling your impatience.

Beep!

Cedric stumbled over as you jumped up, picking your wand up off of the counter and opening the oven. He was eye-level with the blast of heat that emerged, causing him to grimace and stand up hastily, waving his hands in front of his face.

“Oh, the smell of joy,” you grinned, eyeing the cookies as you lifted your wand, lifting the tray out of the oven and placing it atop the stove. The smell was now ten times stronger that they were out of the oven, and even Cedric couldn’t fight the hungry grumble in his belly.

He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder, “They don’t smell as good as you, though.”

He grinned to himself as a blush rose on your cheeks, the corners of your lips curving up. You always became rather flustered at his compliments — one of the many reasons he loved showering you with them any chance he could get. The way that your cheeks and ears turned pink as the shy smile grew on your face — it was one of Cedric’s favourite things.

“Oh, such a smooth talker, Ced,” you giggled, turning around and wrapping your arms around his neck, his still wrapped comfortably around your waist. You could feel the heat coming off of him, surrounding your flushed body comfortably and making the dingy tile floor feel less freezing against your bare feet.

“You know it,” he smirked, leaning forwards and pressing a light kiss against your nose, “Theres no one else I’d want to make cookies with at 2am.”

You nodded your head, “Same here.” And it was true — there was no one else you’d want to do this with. Cedric was it for you, no one else would ever come close.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. They were familiar and warm, but they didn’t fail to make sparks fly in your belly no matter how many times you kissed. The feeling of kissing him was intoxicating — intoxicating enough you nearly forgot about the baked goods sitting on a tray behind you.

Cedric, however, couldn’t care less about the cookies at this point. He was utterly lost in your touch, in your kiss, in your smell. He didn’t want to stop and there was nothing in the world that could change his mind.

“They’re gonna get cold,” you pulled away from him slightly, mumbling against his lips.

“I’m afraid I don’t care,” he replied, wanting to pull you closer and continue kissing you until the sun came up and brightened the dim kitchen.

You giggled, lowering your hands down from his neck to his waist, poking him in the sides and causing him to jump back. He screeched slightly at the ticklish sensation, pulling his lips away from yours and glaring you down.

“Well,” he brushed his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes, “That’s not fair.”

You raised and eyebrow, winking at him, before turning around to face the cookies, “They’re gonna get cold!”

Without waiting for him to retaliate, you picked up a cookie off of the tray, the softness and heat of it causing it to crumble slightly in your hand before you shoved the whole thing in your mouth.

You had been utterly wrong about them getting cold, however, because the second the cookie hit your tongue, it felt like it was on fire. The chocolate was scalding and your tongue felt fuzzy immediately. You let out a small cough and opened your mouth.

“I’m going to guess by your expression that they’re not cold?” Cedric smirked, placing his hands on his hips.

You gave him a glare, eating the cookie with your mouth open to cool it down, “I have made a terrible mistake.”

He nodded slowly, pursing his lips, “Karma for the tickling.”

You continued awkwardly chewing your cookie, glaring him down with narrowed eyes. His smirk never faltered, however, and the second that you swallowed your burning cookie, he lunged forwards with his arms out and his hands went straight to your sides.

You let out a loud yelp at the feeling, the ground beneath your feet disappearing as he lifted you up, wrapped you in his arms, and tickled you like there was no tomorrow. His laughter was bouncing off of the small kitchen walls as you began kicking and pushing him, hoping to get some sort of relief from the ticklish torture.

“Ced! Stop!” you gasped for breath through your laughter and shouting, hoping your neighbours down below wouldn’t hate you too much for causing such a ruckus at this early hour. Your laughter echoed through the small apartment as you struggled to breathe properly.

“Stop!”

“Fine, fine,” Cedric sighed dramatically, placing you down on the ground and standing above you. You finally touched the floor with your feet and let out a sigh of relief, the ghosting feeling of his hands on your waist making a shiver run down your spine. Cedric had always loved tickling you every chance he could get — but you, on the other hand, enjoyed it a little less.

You looked up at him, his eyes bright and his smile practically radiant. You couldn’t even bring yourself to pretend to be mad at him with that look on his face. He looked like a giddy child — a giddy child that had just received the exact gift he wanted on Christmas morning. And for some cruel reason, tickling you had been the gift he had longed for.

“Tickling should be a form of torture, you know,” you pulled down the hem of your shirt from where it had ridden up moments before, “I’d spill all of my deepest darkest secrets.”

His eyebrow cocked up and a glint of playfulness was evident in his eyes, “Oh, deepest darkest secrets, you say?”

Immediately regretting how close you were standing to him, you dodged his hands and took off towards the living room, Cedric’s loud footsteps letting you know he was chasing after you.

He was a rather quick runner, this you knew, but luckily he was in a playful mood and therefore was letting you outrun him as you darted down the hallway to your shared bedroom, continuously avoiding his grabby hands and the mischief in his eyes.

Unfortunately for you, the cookies had now long been forgotten.

——

taglist

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@pit-and-the-pen

@diary-of-an-onliner

@theweirdsideofstuff

@thoseofgreatambition

@theweasleysredhair

@haphazardhufflepuff

(message me to be added!)

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory imagines #cedric diggory one shot #cedric diggory one shots #cedric diggory fic #cedric diggory fics #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory reader insert

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some-kindofgnome · 4 years

Text

Kinktober #14: The Spirit of Competition: Eijirou Kirishima

You’re hunched over a window booth at Denny’s when Kirishima asks you to sit on his face.

Characters: Eijirou Kirishima / f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), aged-up characters, face-sitting, oral sex (m&f receiving), sixty-nine, lil bit of Sunday morning fluff

Notes: Thank you, everyone, for accompanying me on yesterday’s feels trip. Today we’re back to our regularly scheduled programming-porn, porn, porn. Kirishima porn. Today’s prompt is “Sixty-Nine.” I can’t help but think that Pro Hero Kirishima would make the best boyfriend.

Kinktober Masterlist

You’re hunched over a window booth at Denny’s when Kirishima asks you to sit on his face.

It’s eleven-thirty p.m. on a Wednesday, but you’re wolfing down a plate of eggs and bacon like a Sunday brunch champion. That is, until you choke on them.

“Right now?”

He’s blushing hard, but when you pop that question out, dislodging chunks of egg white from your lungs, he laughs. It’s the kind of relationship you’ve always had. Neither of you are very good at the whole filter thing, so at some point, you just stopped trying.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he replies with playful sarcasm. “I want you to sit on my face right here, in the middle of a twenty-four hour…” He trails off, his voice hushing immediately as your exhausted-looking waitress approaches. She looks like she pulled the short straw on working the night shift, but she’s trying her best.

“Everything tasting good so far?”

You choke all over again, and Kirishima saves the moment by shooting the waitress his charming pro-hero smile. Sometimes you hate how good he is at this sort of thing, but at this point, you can only appreciate it.

“It’s all perfect,” he assures her, then gestures in your direction. “Could she get a water, please?”

You shoot him a narrow glare, all the while wondering if the poor server overheard any of your conversation on the way over. If she did, she’s doing a miraculous job of hiding it.

Fortunately, Kirishima’s ever-so-delicately worded request doesn’t come to fruition until a few weeks later, on an actual Sunday morning (sans brunch). You had been out late the night before at some kind of benefit with his agency- black tie, way too much champagne. Today, you’re determined to stay in bed as long as possible.

Midmorning sun pours across your sheets like hot butterscotch, warming your toes and kissing your shoulder blades. You’ve been awake for the better part of an hour- so has Kiri- but you’re both too comfortable holding one another to move.

Or, at least, you think you are. Until Kirishima starts kissing his way down the side of your neck and sending hot puffs of breath across your chest.

“Never gonna get tired a’ wakin’ up with you in my bed,” he growls against your skin, and you cast your eyes to the ceiling, grinning like the hungover idiot you are.

So it’s like that.

He starts slipping further down your body, trailing his lips to your collarbone. He’s starting to work his way down the length of your sternum. You have a flashback. The window booth at Denny’s. You, choking on fried egg. Kirishima, smooth as ever.

“Hang on,” you murmur, stopping him with a hand to the shoulder. He sits back on his haunches. You lick your lips and wonder if you’ve made a mistake.

“Wanna try it… the other way?” Your proposal is quiet but he catches every word. And now it’s his turn to grin at you.

“Babe,” he gasps. “You remembered.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Barely. But he’s already moving, kicking off the sheets and laying back against the pillows. He pats his chest, still grinning.

“Hop on.”

“Oh my god.” This time, you can’t resist the urge.

You sit up- ignoring the protest from your sleepy limbs- and swing your thigh over his shoulders with your back facing the headboard. Kirishima’s breath tickles the insides of your thighs and you shiver, losing your nerve.

“This feels…” you start to say, but then he slides his palms over your thighs and urges you slowly downward.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he croons, sleep-hoarse. His grin taints every syllable. “I gotcha.”

As he pulls your hips against his face, his shoulders press into the mattress and he holds you at the perfect spot. You’re not sure what to do with your hands, but you feel as safe and secure as you always do with him.

He’s good at that sort of thing- putting you at ease.

“Fuck,” he rumbles between your legs. “Y’smell so sweet down here. Can’t wait to-“ He cuts himself off, swiping the flat of his tongue along your slit. You gasp. You bite your lip. You try not to squirm too hard.

You realize that, with the sheets kicked from the mattress, his bare form is completely exposed to you. You gorge yourself, taking in his thick thighs and his firm abs, dusted with a that short, dark bristle of hair you spend way too much time thinking about. All leading to his cock, beginning to twitch and stiffen already from the taste of you.

Your attention is forced back to the movement between your legs by a particularly low spike, making your breath catch and your shoulders pitch forward. Your hands shoot out, bracing against Kirishima’s thighs as he continues to hold you fast.

He groans into your body and his cock stirs again, thickening fast while he swirls his tongue against your clit. He’d started out a little awkward- everything is backward, from this angle- but he’s finding his rhythm and starting to send little shakes of pleasure up your spine.

But you can’t stop thinking about his cock.

It’s right there. Completely hard now, flushed and curving perfectly against his belly, tempting you. Every time you lean in close you feel him shift and groan underneath you.

You give in.

Leaning in, you wrap your fingers around his shaft. He starts a little but doesn’t dare break his rhythm- lucky you- and you lower your head, sucking the tip of his cock into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he grunts against you. His hips buck into your mouth.

Okay. You’re really doing this.

You keep your hand wrapped firmly around the base of his shaft and start to suck, bobbing up and down on his cock like you’re on your knees for him. It’s hard to keep your concentration when he’s still working away between your thighs, but you’re providing the same challenge to him all the while.

What began as a game morphs into a competition as the two of you devour one another, racing to see who can drive the other to ecstasy first. Kirishima’s had a head start, but you don’t let that stop you. You swallow him as best you can, sucking and bobbing messily away. He’s starting to twitch and squirm underneath you and it echoes in the pit of your own stomach.

There are no words exchanged between you, both mouths too busy to break away. Kirishima cums first, grunting hard into your pussy as his stomach tightens and his hips rut hard. You keep your mouth on him, letting him shoot every spurt of cum down your throat. As soon as he’s finished, though, you have to pull away, because you’ve hit your peak, too.

“Kiri,” you whine, throwing your head back and rolling your hips into his face. He laps eagerly at your clit, amplifying the dull flutters of your orgasm into powerful shockwave. You grab his thighs and squeeze tightly as you cum, riding out the waves against his powerful jaw.

When it’s over, he gently eases you off him and you collapse together in a puddle of mutual ecstasy.

“That was… kind of unexpected,” he mumbles at the ceiling. You look over and he’s still smiling. Your Sunday morning sunshine.

“Couldn’t help it,” you giggle. “You were tempting me.”

“Well,” he chuckles, rolling onto his side and pulling you into his arms. “I’ll tempt you again. Any time you want.”

“How about you tempt me with a little coffee?”

You expect him to say something sassy, but to your surprise, he just kisses the top of your head.

“Sure thing, baby.”

#kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima/reader #kirishima/you #kirishima #eijirou kirishima #my hero academia #mha fanfic #kinktober #jbbkinktober2020

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efkgirldetective · 3 years

Text

~part III~ of this little prompt series ( part I & part II icymi )

much gratitude to @missgryffin for one prompt & the same anon as the previous prompt for the other one!! <3 absolutely TICKLED to indulge my obsession with post-traumatic injury reunions <3

pajamas + purple + panic

doodle + indigo + relief

A soft knock on the bathroom door. “Evans? Everything all right? You’ve been—oi, I’m standing here, will you—what d’you mean leave her alone, she’s—oh, come off it, Lupin, I’m just trying to be a help, honestly—”

Lily presses her forehead to cool porcelain. Focuses on one breath in; one breath out. It doesn't work. Her stomach roils, and she sicks up. Hardly anything left—but it burns just the same.

There's scuffling outside the door, voices quick and low. Lily flushes the basin and rises to the sink, avoiding her own eyes in the mirror. Swishes around mouth rinse and spits it out. Washes her hands and turns the light off and takes a backward look at her reflection, hand on the doorknob.

Her face is stark and pale and scared, even in the dim.

The door swings open to Remus and Sirius mid-argument. They fall silent; turn to her, cautious.

“I’m fine,” she says, though she doesn’t meet their eyes, either. Pulls at the sleeves of her linen blouse, at the collar; sticky with nervous sweat. Remus takes out his wand and casts a cooling charm. She closes her eyes to it and nods. “Thank you.”

“Jesus, Evans,” Sirius murmurs, his hand on her arm. She wants to pull off, turn from the touch, tell them both to piss off —but the tightness in her throat intensifies, the pit in her stomach glomming like a rock. She loses footing, body asway; Sirius catches her elbow and pulls her forward, into the crook of his shoulder.

Lily takes a long, painful breath.

That morning she woke from fitful sleep to disorientation; pain; loneliness; panic. Remembering James, a room away, deep in spelled sleep. Remembering, disjointedly, the tossed-off owl from St. Mungo’s: ...three weeks lapsed...tri-monthly Contraceptive Charm...would you care to reschedule your appointment?

The bleary eyes, the dry throat, the: This can’t be right—

I never forget—

I never forget.

The problem with war is the blur. The carousel of unease, its unremitting haze; the constant, constant disruption. The this is not my time anymore. The my time belongs to war.

Lily feels sick again, suddenly, tucked in Sirius’ shoulder. It’s not the right time. This isn’t our time.

Remus puts a steady palm on her back, as if he can feel her tremble. Voice low, “there’s something else, isn’t there?”

She raises her head—and how clearly he seems to see her. His hair is overgrown; the color of sand wet with sea. All those narrow silver scars. She tries to say his name but nothing comes out, and besides that there’s another voice, round the corner of the hall:

“Lads? He’s awake—oh, shit, Lils, he's up, he's—”

“He’s awake?” Sirius interrupts, disbelieving.

Peter looks drained, nodding. “Awake.”

Remus urges Lily, palm on back—but it's Sirius she looks to, now. The skin beneath his eyes made into translucent half-moons. “We’ll be just on—you go.”

She pauses one more half a second, then goes. Feels a tremor overtaking. Rushing so quickly she nearly smacks into Mags, exiting. The door cracked an inch. “Be gentle, yeah? It’s fragile. But—a day or so of rest, he’s good as fine.”

“Maggie,” Lily breathes, tunneling the woman into her arms. Gripping like she doesn’t know how hard she holds. Entrenched in gratitude—for her, for him; maybe, for a third. “Thank you.”

“All in time, Evans,” Mags says gruffly, pulling back, bristling. “All in time.”

Lily steps in slowly, squinting at the brightness. Someone has opened the shades and the room is light with midday. In the center, in their bed, pillowed upright by cushions and sheets, blanketed in the purple quilt her mother made for them—James sitting up, open-eyed.

Lily inhales deeply and blinks to be sure that it’s right; that it’s real. Amid such a downy pile he looks younger. But his eyes are blaring gold, glasses un-cracked—and he’s breathing.

“Hi,” he says, quietly, sheepishly. Someone put him in pajamas. The green-and-white striped collared shirt buttoned unevenly, off by one looped hole.

At such a little thing, the pulp of Lily's heart gives a definitive jolt.

She stumbles. Slows; remembers Mags saying fragile. Looks down to his leg, bandaged and glowing the deep indigo of stasis charms. Her throat locks and she remembers the morning; her hapless nerves. Turns her head out of necessity, eyes landing on the bedside table, the little framed sketch of her own profile—doodled by James in the back of seventh-year Charms.

She turns back and finds him apprehensive, chewing at his lower lip, as if she’s the one that should be handled carefully. As if he didn’t fall to his knees and nearly leave her for good. “Hi,” she tries—and it really almost works, if it weren’t for the cracking, midway, for the way his arm falls down onto the bed, palm up, open, reaching, for the way he breathes out—

“Lils.”

She goes to him. Feels the palm, carefully, with her own—and skin so familiar, and finally warm, and dear, fingers latching onto hers, that she folds forward at the waist, unable to stop, face pressed wholly to the bend of his arm. Mouthing at the skin, desperate to prove he is solid; prove he is whole. “I’m sorry.”

“No, love, no,” he murmurs, and he’s threading a hand through her hair, urging her face upward, till she finds herself facing the uneven buttons—a detail still so tender that it breaks her over again. Reaching out to touch any reachable part; the other elbow, the good leg, the hollow space between collarbones.

“Come on,” he says, so earnestly.

“Don’t you—” she cuts her head to the side and suddenly exhaustion crashes over her; the night of poor sleep, the morning so blue with sickness and owl and abrupt, unwelcome truth. “Don’t you go and pull that shit ever again, Potter, you can’t just—” His hand stroking up through her hair, his hand cradling her jaw. “I won’t live without you.” And it’s irrational and true. His thumb across her lips. “You arsehole,” she adds, though she’s crying—though the sentiment is real—though her lungs are crying out for air.

“Rather selfish of me to nearly die, I realize," his mouth quirking minutely, a smirk so gentle and so Jameslike it pains. “And I apologize, I really do, from the bottom of my heart.”

“Honestly,” she laughs, cut through at once with pain and a flood of gentle levity, his eyes so bright and healthy; the sweet flopping of dark hair over forehead. “Honestly.”

His throat moves. There’s no time to tell him—not the right time—others wanting reunions, wanting confirmation he’s awake. But his face so open and honest. “We’ll be okay,” he says, always quick to ground, to hold steady; to carry her face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head, words gone out. Kisses him on the cheek, on the other. “Stay with me,” she begs. Implores. “I love you, stay with me.”

His brow creased in a tender pull. Breath shallow and warm when their lips meet between, pulling her out of herself. Everything will wait. Relief is like a river; long, slow, and plenty.

#weve got an unplanned pregnancy on our hands boys #jily #fic #marauders

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jangofctts · 3 years

Note

Ma’am I’m dying out here. It’s always “Void will wreck you in the fresher” and “Void has the third best stroke game of the squad” but never “Here I wrote a lil blurb of Void wrecking your shit”

Please I need we need it

smH YOURE RIGHT IVE BEEN DENYING YALL KJEKEJH

ct-7775 void // fem!reader

warnings: shower sex

You’re not quite sure when this became a regular occurrence--a couple months ago you think. Sorta like date night, except in the fresher...naked and undoubtedly against regulations. That’s what makes it fun you suppose--a little late night thrill.

Not like anyone would find you, you specifically chose time slots around midnight so you’d have the entire fresher block to yourself--an ingenious idea and totally worth waking up with wet hair in the morning. You just--well you didn't expect someone else to have the same idea. Safe to say it was a little jarring to cross paths naked and afraid, soaped up and scrambling for a towel with Sunburst squadron’s finest and only medic. Void.

To be fair, he hadn't even seen you. It was the end of your shift, tunnel vision on one thing, and one thing only. A nice hot fresher and certainly not a naked you.

With neither of you willing to budge and shuffle around schedules, you came to the brilliant conclusion that you could both shower at the same times--just so long as you both kept your eyes to yourselves. Funny how that rule barely lasted two weeks.

Safe to say, it’s been the best sex you’ve ever had. And all done in a fresher for kriff’s sake.

Once or twice every week you have Void all to yourself--that permanent scowl and grumpy mannerisms washing away with the flow of water and the warmth of your skin. A completely different man--one briefly unburdened with the weight of keeping his brothers alive and well just to send them off to battle the next day. You don’t mind being his distraction--as fleeting as it may be.

Tonight is no different as the solid line of his body slips in behind you, filling in the limited amount of space left in the tiny space. And you mean tiny. You can move without challenging your flexibility or banging your elbows and knees against the walls.

The touch of Void’s palm over your ribcage pulls a pleased sigh from your lungs. His fingers tickle up your shoulder blade and sweeps your hair, plastered to the nape of your neck, to the side. “Let me see you...”

You turn without hesitation, giggling as Void’s hand cups your cheek, his thumbs jumping up to smooth down your eyebrows and wick away the rivulets of water. Before you have the chance to greet him, Void tugs you forward into a deep, toe-curling kiss, shuddering as the cool durasteel of the wall touches your back. You break away and place your palm over his cheek. leans into your palm and smiles as your thumb lands right over the little blue dot tattooed onto his cheek.

“How was it today?”

“Sweets got a splinter and Fuse burned himself playing with matches again.” Void grumbles, sliding his other hand up to cup one of your breasts. He pinches your nipple and rolls it between his forefinger and thumb, plucking out a gasp from your parted lips. “All I could think about was you--always distractin’ me.”

You roll your eyes. “Boohoo--baby is distracted by my tits. You’re lucky I like you.”

Void buries his face into the crook of your neck, nips at your ear and hooks his arm around your waist. “Mhm. If I accidentally kill someone, s’because of you.”

You slide your fingers through his hair, a bit long once it’s wet and free from his headband--you give the strands a playful jostle. Void tilts his head, skims his lips over the line of jaw and steals another kiss--when he pulls away he hesitates here for a moment--simply drinking in the shape of you, every freckle and little wrinkle, grafting it into his memory for eternity. It’s a two way mirror however--

The bags under his eyes, like two swaths of purpling bruisers, are worse than last week and Maker--do they ever give this man a break? “Void--when’s the last time you slept?”

He blinks rapidly and shoves his head back into the crux of your shoulder to avoid your scrutiny. “Don’t worry about it.”

You frown. You’ll push him about it later, because right now? He’s trailing tiny, addicting kisses from your shoulder up to your ear, your blood already singing even though the chaste pecks border innocent. You gasp as those kisses morph into nips, sucking sure to be bruises into the flesh, marking you just below the line of where the collar of your uniform ends.

The arm around your waist skims further down, grabbing a handful of your ass and roughly squeezing. You whimper, curling further into his hold as liquid heat races from the pit of your stomach and outward to each and every limb. He worms his muscled thigh between your legs, pinning you further against the wall, the hand on your ass snaking back to massage tiny circles over your thigh. You whimper and thread your fingers into the wet strands of his hair, arching into his chest.

“Fuck--you’re a vision,” Void pants, “So beautiful.”

He moans low in the back of his throat as your hand gently encompasses his cock, thick and swelling to its full length in your palm. “I could say the same about you, handsome.”

Void shudders and sags into your hold, huffing out curses and roughly parting your thighs further apart. You whine and press your head into the wall as he hikes your thigh up and around his hip. He then slides two of those thick, calloused fingers pass over your clit, throbbing and aching to be touched. Your own slick mixed with the aide of the water let the two digits glide with ease over your lips, rocking down to circle your clenching entrance then back to lightly trace the little bundle of nerves.

His cock jumps in your grip as you whine his name, needy and desperate as you roll your palm up and down his cock. He curses under his breath, and bites your earlobe. “You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

You groan as he pushes a finger into your cunt, the muscles squeezing around him for just a shred of pleasure. “Yes--please, Void--fuck me.”

“Such a filthy mouth.” He chastises with a dark chuckle.

You groan out your frustration as you roll your hips, your nails digging into his bicep to pull him closer. He must take pity on your squirming, pathetic display as he abruptly extracts his finger and drops your thigh.

Your stomach drops as your bare feet slip off the tiles, yet the heavy muscled weight of Void’s chest pinning you forward saves you from landing ass over heels. He’s stronger than he looks, a fact you’re confronted with as he scoops your knee over his elbow and squishing you further into the wall. “Careful, mesh’la--wouldn’t want a trip to med bay, now would we?”

You swear and dig you nails into his shoulder, slippery from the water. He grips his cock in one hand and slides the thick head over the wet slit of your cunt, the tip of him catching against your dripping entrance.

You jerk and press your hips back. “V-Void…”

Your breath catches in your throat as the very tip of him, searing hot and harder than tempered steel, pushes into you. It feels the same with each time he fucks you, that pinch and fluttering panic low in your stomach that he’s too big. You squirm and whine as he rocks his hips forward, the little motions seating him deeper into your greedy center. Maker— you think it’ll go on forever, with no room to accommodate him.

“There you go,” he babbles, his breathing a mess of pitchy moans and praise, muffled by the spray of water. “Fuck—such a good girl. Taking it all.”

You shiver despite the temperature of the water, twitching in his hold as the narrow dip of his waist slots against your cunt. Your name flows past his lips, the enamel of his teeth tugging at the fragile skin lining the base of your neck.

Stars— your thoughts are pulverized into dust with the first tentative rolls of his hips. There’s no buildup to the pace he sets or patience as his fingers dig into your ass while the other anchors to the wall.

It’s a ridiculously short amount of time, you think, as your orgasm creeps down each vertebrae, your cunt clamping down on his cock tighter than a fucking vice. One last roll against your clit and you’re done for. So fucking gone.

The edges of your entire universe drop off into some unknown mystery--bursts of white light igniting behind your eyelids as you're brought over the edge.

“Shit—get so fucking wet when you cum,” Void snarls. “And tight. S-so fucking tight.”

You’re not allowed to float down from your high, not until he also reaches his end. Until then you’re forced through the rough scrap of the last dregs of your pleasure, his abdomen scraping agains your throbbing clit. The loud, wet slaps of his hips meeting your cunt echoes in the tiny space, accentuates every hitched moan and sharp whimper. Void’s hand slips off the wall and buries it into your hair at the base of your skull, tugging sharply as your core clenches around his cock.

“M’close,” he pants, his breath humid against your skin. “Can I—fuck--can I cum in you?”

You nod with a shuddering whine.

Your nerves burn as you slip your own hand down to toy with your clit, a simple brush over the nerves and your careening off the edge again. Your cries are a jumble of incomprehensible babbles--the only thing you manage to latch onto is his name.

With a dangerously loud curse, Void’s bruising pace quickens, frantic as he chases his own release. Void’s hips stutter, the hand in your hair tightening into a fist as his teeth embed themselves over your shoulder. With one—two last thrusts of his hips, he cums. Ropes of his release coats your insides, throbbing and twitching until he’s spent, left with the ambiance of quick panting and the trickle of water.

Stars, you can’t fucking think.

With a grunt he stumbles back as much as he can in the limited space, the absence of his cock leaving his cum to dribble out and slip down the inside of your thigh. You’re still squeezing your eyes shut, jittery and unable to move from your current spot without the risk of stumbling to your knees.

Void dips his head and steals a kiss, dragging his tongue deep into your mouth. He groans and keeps you here, leading you through soft kisses and a careful dance of something more than just a simple fuck in a fresher. You’re not sure if you’re allowed to breach that gentle space between you—grasp something tangible with uncertain promises and stolen minutes as sunlight fills the space between your heart and lungs.

He kisses your cheek, breaking away before either of you slip and tumble into uncharted territory. Another time maybe—not in the middle of a war and certainly not in a communal shower.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. And it’s enough—it has to be enough.

#HERE IS MY INSANE RAMBLES HEKDBD #oOf #ask #keida answers #sunburst squadron #my writing #clone trooper x reader #clone oc x reader #clone oc

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the-darklings · 3 years

Note

Not gonna lie, Lucien grabbed me by the throat since the first attack on V and then my heart by the sewers scene ;; if you have time, could you mayhabs give us Luci stans a lil something with V? 👀

nature of doubt.

⤫ notes: so this is actually based in that original world I keep alluding to post-coa and uh,, Lucien and V actually have a very different relationship here (tho this piece isn’t considered entirely canon for them, either) and you’re getting a backseat into that relationship. Lucien/Reader is established here - more or less, considering how he is.

⤫ pairing: lucien x f!reader (+clara (oc!v)

⤫ word count: 4.4k+

“You can’t keep doing this.”

Your feet halt sharply at the sound of those words, startled into an acute silence.

The night hums around you, and you lean against the side of the greenhouse, peering through the blur of the glass. Humid heat keeps you warm from the night chill and you slow your breaths in order to hear better. You’ve come up to the terrace because you couldn’t sleep for the life of you, caught in your turbulent thoughts as you were.

Lucien being back should make you happy but something is different this time. You’ve kissed him and hugged the moment he came close enough to touch, and that might have led to a long and strenuous session in your shared bed. Bites and kisses and nails against the skin—just him, raw and passionate, and…

He always comes back from his disappearances with an appetite of a starved man—cruel, dangerous, prowling thing. Always dancing on that line of pain and pleasure. Never pushing more than you ask but there had been a strange detachment this time, a drift you know he felt as well.

Something, this time, felt emptier than usual. For both of you.

Coming up here so late has been more about getting some fresh air to clear your mind and get rid of that gnawing, traitorous whisper of soft brown hair. Hazel eyes and shoulder against yours when you replanted one of hundred plants in her greenhouse.

And it’s because of that, that you recognise the owner of that low, smooth feminine voice that speaks.

“Doing what?”

Of course, it’s him. Of course, the two most nocturnal members of the Pit of Vipers are the ones you have managed to stumble upon.

Instincts scream at once. They’re beyond dangerous individually much less together, and if they caught you spying they might be angry. Disappointed. That thought sits like curdled milk inside your stomach, tart and bitter.

Still. There is something that moves your body. Some need, a draw.

Leaning over the edge of the greenhouse, you spot the shadowed figures of Clara and Lucien. The latter stands with his back to you, his wispy blonde hair loose in the wind, a mess from your running your fingers through it earlier. Hungry. You had been just as hungry and just as needy for his touch.

Yet for some reason it…

It hadn’t been the same.

You love him so much, you do, and you think that maybe—just maybe—there is something inside his chest too. A small, fond thing you so rarely catch glimpses of but know is there.

Clara, on other hand, stands with her arms crossed over her chest, one side of her face bathed with terrace lights. It cuts a terrible, steely line—one dark, one light; and you suppose that’s only right too.

She’s tense though, her stare set as she drills holes into the side of Lucien’s pale head.

You know full well that is a terrifying position to be in. Her stare is downright chilling on a good day. Even more so when she’s angry. It’s made worse, you think, by the fact that she has a face that looks like it should be smiling. It’s a face made for kindness.

She hasn’t smiled once since you’ve met her. It stings more because you know she used to. Noah told you as much once; a sad, thoughtful expression crumpling his sharp, friendly features with sorrow.

Not since him.

The one no one speaks of openly, and certainly not Clara herself. A man with glaciers in his eyes, and tar-black heart.

“Disappearing like you do,” she says flatly, a fine lace of irritation in her voice.

Lucien clicks his tongue, shaking his head in amusement. “It’s what I’ve always done,” he returns dismissively. And you know that it’s an answer that will not go down well. He disappeared for so long you were starting to doubt he would ever return. Clara, since then, had been even more solitary and distant. You’ve always thought that Lucien needed her more than she needed him but this disappearance has proven different. “How is this time any different?”

She doesn't respond right away. It’s as if considering his question, wondering if he actually means those words and you swallow.

You shouldn't be here.

This is a private conversation and yet…

You’ve been just as disappointed by his actions. And you know that if you asked he would not answer.

He answers to no one but her—his leader, the only one he trusts and has chosen—and perhaps that’s the only way for you to get a glimpse into him as well. Find out where his head is at.

It was not so long ago that their bond used to make you jealous and insecure. A tiny part of you still has doubts—it’s hard not to, not with the looks they share, the mute acceptance between them, the way you sometimes just find them sitting together, shoulder to shoulder—but ever since Lucien’s last disappearance something has changed.

“You were gone for months,” she states briskly, her voice icy, and a shiver races down your spine hearing it. She doesn’t raise her voice. It’s smooth, controlled; a pleasant, ordinary string of words. She stands there, and simply looks at him, and it’s terrible somehow. “Even Step couldn’t find you. I couldn’t find you,” she adds after a slight pause, the tiniest of catches in her voice.

You’ve heard that catch a handful of times in the past. Mostly in the shadowed greenery of her greenhouse. Where you sometimes found the viper curled up and resting, hiding away from the world. You’ve tried sitting by her like Lucien sometimes does. It made you feel special, near euphoric the first time she allowed you to hold her hand in silent comfort. The first time she leaned her head on your shoulder.

The way she had sagged against you—atlas on her shoulders, expression fragile, soft—had stuck with you for a long time. So long, you can’t help but see it now.

This is the first fracture you’ve seen in her demeanour in weeks though. She’s so controlled for how Lucien is untamed. But demons that stir under the Viper’s skin might be worse than his and somehow…

That thought is as thrilling as it is terrifying.

The blonde doesn’t take much note of her words. Still staring out towards the twinkling New York streets. “Yes, I imagine it was rather annoying for him,” he says, deliberately avoiding her softer admission, an open fear. “Such a pity.”

It's wrong to say. Right now when every muscle in Clara’s body seems to have gone so taut with tension she bristles. Then, follows fire.

It thickens the air and even some distance away, hugged and hidden away by the shadows, you can feel something volatile bubbling in the air between them. It becomes near suffocating the longer Lucien remains impassive and disinterested in their conversation.

You’ve never seen him show fear, but perhaps, this once, he’s aiming for someone who can remind him of the feeling.

He knows it, too, you conclude when his head finally turns in her direction.

“I do it for you,” he snarls lowly, practically spitting the words, his grip on the railing tightening. “If I didn’t leave, I would skin your loyal little snakies and give you their skins as a present. By the time I came back to myself, it would already be too late, and you would hate me for taking them away from you. You would kill me for it, and maybe I would let you.”

Your heart slams into your throat at his calm, chillingly logical explanation.

You knew—to some degree—that him leaving was about protecting others as much as it was about allowing Lucien that room to roam. It’s hard to feel trapped, tied down, to something when you’ve spent years being treated as no better than an animal.

It makes you value that freedom just that much more.

Your lungs burn yet you feel too afraid to inhale lest you miss her reply.

The woman is silent for a leaden, disturbing moment and you feel your heartbeat accelerate the longer she remains quiet.

“Do you really think you mean so little to me?” comes her chilling whisper of a question and goosebumps tickle across the length of your arms. “That I would kill you?”

She laughs but it’s an unpleasant, cold thing that makes you think of a viper circling her prey and Lucien’s chin tilts at the challenge, at the mocking tilt of her inquiry. “You may act like you don’t care for them but could you really kill them? Just like that?” she demands, her tone sharpening as if she’s wielding one of her blades. “Kill her?”

Your heart thuds; once, twice.

You’re not sure what you feel more surprised at.

The fact that she’s pushing or that she sounds so furious at the mere prospect.

It’s them, you remind yourself hurriedly, ignoring the flush of heat you feel in response to the honeyed, poisonous edge you catch in her words, not what she’s saying.

Yet it feels like a weak argument even in your own mind.

Lucien pushes back from the railing, clenching his fingers experimentally, humming lightly under his breath before offering his verdict, “I won’t even hesitate.”

“You’re lying.”

It’s sharp, and immediate dismissal. So knowing that you don’t even doubt the call out because she knows him better than anyone. They’re two beasts snapping jaws and snarling and it makes for a beautiful sight. Captivating despite the danger.

The terror you should feel around them doesn’t come. That should probably concern you more. You’re not helpless but getting even more tangled with these people is a death sentence.

Lucien steps closer to the leader of the Vipers, and it’s only then that you notice that his white shirt is still unbuttoned. His skin often feels cold to the touch but he’s never once complained about it. The pale canvas of his flesh is marred by scars and faint bruises alike. You’ve tasted them, traced them with your tongue just a few hours ago—so even though you can’t see them clearly, you know they’re there.

“Funny thing. Lies. Like you lie to yourself daily, I imagine, hm?” Lucien’s voice slices through the night air, fills it, stretches it into something even tenser. “You walk around like you want to destroy everything in your path yet you still hold yourself back,” he spits knowingly, his voice slipping into harshness, and his eyes narrow, inspecting the woman before him intently. “He still clings to you and you let him. Still love him.”

He spits the word love out so hatefully you nearly flinch. Like no bigger crime could be committed against him.

His throat grows tense, tendons trembling, and in that moment he looks near feral. Livid.

Because she’s in pain, you think sadly, and he wasn’t there for her, and now she carries it.

It saddens you.

“You have no right,” it’s a warning, a hiss of a statement.

Lucien comes undone in a span of a second.

His arm snaps out, locking behind the slim curve of her neck, his fingers sinking into the nape. He doesn’t drag her forward, he drags himself to her. She lets him, and that surprises you more. She watches him from beneath her heavy, quietly furious brow, silent.

“I have every right!” he fires back, his stare brimming, and he briefly presses their foreheads together but his next words are cruel, “When we crawled out of that filth it was you and me. And then you let some fucker steal you. Do this to you.”

She rips out of his grip with speed that’s a blur, her teeth flashing, “Then maybe you shouldn’t have abandoned me!”

Pain in her voice is like a whip against your skin and heart. They rip into you, linger under your skin. Is that how she felt? All this time. Alone. With no one to turn to.

It...

“You know that’s rich, Lucien,” she continues, her voice a low growl. “You really think I don’t see how you are with (Name)? Did you really assume you could hide something like that from me?”

Your gut coils at her tone. She sounds...small.

And then her words…

Oh.

She must think…

Does she feel like Lucien is replacing her with you? It’s true that you have bonded and grown closer together but…

God, doesn’t she realise no one could come even close to her for Lucien? You’ve accepted their bond long ago though it took time and a lot of battling insecurities that still crop up to do so.

It’s startling to realise that she has even more of those. That beneath a woman who has carved her way into power with such ruthless efficiency is still, at the end of the day, just human. Capable of wounds and bleeding. Doubts and diffidence. It gives her a different light, a human light, one that makes you want to hold her hand again. Feel the fold of her long fingers around yours.

“Ah, my pretty girl,” Lucien begins, sighing softly, his voice silky with tendrils of desire, hunger. So he’s concluded the same, then. Based on his sudden change in topic. “She’s a greedy thing. I see how she watches you, too. A heart so eager and big she doesn’t know what to do with it. So eager to give...and take,” he purrs, his tongue wetting his lips, and you choke down a breath at the memory of that searing tongue on your body. “At least I can say that about her. Can you say the same about your spider?”

You suck in a breath, holding it in your lungs, wide-eyed and unsteady.

Why is he goading her like this? Does this truly get under his skin so much? No—you know it does. Lucien has a greediness of a child who never got toys or enough food growing up. Eager hands and darker eyes. Constantly clawing for more, claiming everything he touches and hoarding it, ready to bite and snarl at any hand that tries to take his things away from him.

He’s considered her his own long before he even knew you. That same silent burn of mine, mine, mine rages in his gaze every time he looks at either of you.

“Do not speak of him, Lucien,” this time her voice is soft, deceptively so, a fragment of a warning that’s the last second of stillness before a viper strikes. “This is the only warning I will give you,” she adds.

Lucien’s head shakes. “Wipe him away,” he warns in return, his voice ice. “Do it, Clara, because if he destroys you, I will scatter his remains across this Earth. He will know agony long before I grant him death. Let her in.”

This time your heart jumps straight to your throat and stays there, beating and trembling, trying to flutter away.

“She’s not a thing for you to decide what to do with.”

There’s an edge to her voice, to her stance. They’re both tense, their shoulders taut as they glare at one another.

You’ve never seen them fight before. Not once. The fact that you’re the topic of their conversation…

Lucien snorts, shaking his head back and forth. “I’m only stating what you noticed long ago,” he says knowingly. “What my pretty girl wants even if she won’t admit it to herself yet,” a pause, and he licks his lips again, his head turning to stare right into the darkness, into the spot where you’re standing, “Isn’t that right, my brave foolish girl?”

Your muscles stiffen with shock. Your flee instincts scream at you to get away but you only stare at them numbly.

Clara doesn’t look surprised by his words, either. Did she know too? This whole time? Then why let you listen to this. Why—

“Don’t be shy,” he coaxes, his voice beguiling and gentle; a dangerous purr. “Come on out.”

You shouldn’t.

They’re…

Too much, too dangerous—you called them a death sentence only minutes prior, and you know you’re right.

Yet you step onto the terrace and straight into the jaws of two awaiting snakes who watch your every step with rapt intensity.

It’s an effort to keep your steps steady and spine straight. Under their stares, you become intimately aware of every stitch of clothing on you. Namely the fact that you’re in nothing but loose V-shirt and worn sweatpants, having pulled on the first thing on hand before departing your room in restless haste.

The intensity of their regard makes you feel like you’re naked, however.

Gulping a quiet breath you try to ignore the way Lucien traces the dip of your collarbone where a love bite is still visible. He sucked on the skin relentlessly, following that with a scattering of open-mouthed kisses, soothing the twinge of the ache.

“I…” you try and sigh. “Sorry. It was rude of me to listen. I…”

Your voice fades when Lucien steps towards you, his footsteps inaudible but purposeful. Same hunched shouldered, tense prowl of a gait, his arm encircling your waist the moment he’s close enough. You lean into his touch despite your wariness, your breath tickling against his exposed skin but over his narrow shoulder, you can’t help but watch Clara.

Dark jumper, messy braid over her shoulder, and sunken cheeks. Tired smudges sit under her eyes, her stare empty, and she looks…

Sad.

There is no particular expression on her face—she’s not that obvious, and he taught her well, you suppose—but the air around her seems to be teeming with some melancholic ache.

Lucien’s mouth brushes over your ear, nipping once, and you expect a shiver of shame or embarrassment to flood through you but it doesn’t. It doesn’t feel wrong to have her witness these things, to watch Lucien’s rare show of intimacy so closely.

The argument between them seems to be forgotten, for now, all of you caught in your own spells. Lucien’s mouth drags downwards, his teeth scraping against the hollow of your throat and you gasp softly.

The sound seems to snap Clara out of her daze, and her expression tightens in a blink. You still can’t get over how pale and tired she looks. Worn. Everything about her seems to be muted today. It’s then that you also recall that you haven’t seen her the whole day. When you asked Hector he had only barked a harsh she’s busy and you had retreated after that, noting his foul mood—more so than usual.

Why?

You try to think if this day holds some sort of significance and—

Oh, oh, oh.

It must be today.

Your stomach sinks at the realisation. So hard and suddenly the sensation of Lucien’s mouth fades just for a second. Because just like that the man’s return also makes sense. He returned so he would be here just in case she needs him.

Two years since the night she was taken in Tokyo.

There must be so much turmoil in her today. No wonder you haven’t seen her out and about and now, out here, in the private space between them, her guard has worn far quicker than usual.

Lucien presses you flush against him and hums a pleased sound when you sigh at the feeling of his lips skimming over your jaw. His head tilts then, staring at Clara over his shoulder.

“You’ve made your point,” she snips the moment he does, her voice throaty.

She stalks past you both, her jaw set and lips pressed to a hard line. Your actions are instinct alone.

Your fingers wrap around her wrist, partially jerking from Lucien’s hold to catch her in your grip. Last time you’ve done something like this she flinched and yanked her arm away with a heated glare. This time she freezes, tensing, but doesn’t pull out of your hold. Her steady, strong pulse beats against your palm and you inhale at the contact.

Last time you touched her had been when she told you her real name.

Clara, Clara, Clara.

With her hands knuckle deep in a pot, a smear of dirt across the freckled nose, and near content look in her eyes. You know she never demands. Yet each member chooses to cement their loyalty to the Pit in their own time and on their own terms. Once the snake tattoo marks their skin, it’s forever. In return, Clara gives them her own name—the ultimate sign of acceptance.

You don’t have a snake tattoo. Yet she had given you her name still. She had noted your startled expression before it morphed and bloomed into a bright grin. That seemed to have startled her more.

When you had hugged her—breathing her in, absorbing her warmth, and savouring the comfort that comes with such simple affection—she had stood there, not moving. It took her several minutes to fully relax, melt into you with a sigh so gentle you barely felt it.

Now, your hand is on her skin again, even if circumstances are so different.

“Don’t go,” you say, fighting back the urge to tug her towards you. “Stay.”

Lucien shifts around you—another snake coiling—but he’s waiting and watching. Almost vibrating with energy you have no name for. Arm around your waist, hand resting lightly on your lower stomach, but you feel his stare digging into her.

He’s eager to see how she will react.

This. This feels right.

Lucien at your side and you holding onto her. A unit, a chain of energy. A thrill rushes through your hand and right to your heart at that conclusion; hot and fierce.

Those dark eyes peer at you, and there is something in her gaze—maybe longing, maybe regret—but it blows out like a candle in a stiff breeze.

Her stare goes to Lucien briefly and she tugs her wrist free. Your expression falls the moment cool night air kisses your palm instead.

Clara turns and disappears down the staircase. Her room is on this floor, just below the terrace and you listen to her fading footsteps. The disappointment you feel stings, bubbles in your chest and you pull your hand back, folding your fingers into a loose fist.

Lucien hisses under his breath, displeased, muttering something in French. His nails scratch against your stomach as he pulls his hand away.

“Why did you do that?” you demand quietly.

A soft breath and quick, hard kiss against your head, his fingers sinking into your shoulder.

“Because I will not let her run anymore,” he mutters coldly, and it carries through the night air, making you shiver.

Turning in his hold, you stare at him.

“Have you two ever…”

He reads into your meaning without you having to force the words out. You’re immensely grateful for it.

“No.”

Your throat aches but you still wonder, “Kissed?”

“Yes. Once,” blunt and straightforward as always. For once, you find yourself appreciating that. “We both thought we were going to die, and neither of us wanted our last memory to be of rotting in pain and alone. Our humanity stripped away.”

You step out of his embrace, mulling that over. You can’t even begin to imagine what that would be like. Feeling that level of desperation. That lack of hope and despair. That kiss had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with comfort, with a need to cling to something so ordinary yet human in what they perceived to be their last moments alive.

“It’s today, isn’t it?” you finally ask, your words soft, thoughtful. “When she was taken. That’s why you came back. Because you knew she would need you,” you add knowingly, staring up at him.

Lucien stares back at you wordlessly. He doesn’t need to waste his breath and verbalize it for you to know you’re right.

“She needs us both,” he concludes and there is no room for argument in that statement—for him, it's an absolute, a known fact. “She’s just too wrapped up in him to realise that.”

Him. It always comes back to him.

The seething rage lingers in Lucien’s soft words, practically spat, certainly damning. Yet you never expected him to be as accepting of this as he has been.

“Why aren’t you mad?” you wonder, watching his profile, the dips of his skin illuminated by the artificial lights. In this moment he’s a wraith, a spirit, a restless ghost. “At the thought that I might…”

Do feel something for a woman you shouldn’t. Did that make you selfish? You often felt selfish for simply wanting Lucien. For hoping that one day he will be able to make peace with his demons and stay with you.

You can’t help but wonder if the woman who reminds you of a beautiful, haunted house could ever, possibly, let her demons go too.

Could...could she feel the same?

Your blood warms at the thought, your mind cycling through every moment shared with her over these last several months. Combing them for any signs and...

“Why would I be, pretty girl?” he retorts with a tsk and a cutting glance. He reaches out, fingers caressing the length of your chin. “I have no intention of choosing, you’re capable of loving us both I know that, and she needs to learn happiness again.”

You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut, savouring the contact. There is that greediness in his hold when he drags you to him. You follow. This time there is new conflict but the energy between you seems to be back, settled. Pressing your forehead against his bare collar, you shiver at how cold he feels to the touch but feel happy at this return.

The missing piece finally has a name.

“What did he do to her?” you mumble against his skin, so desperate to understand what no one is willing to share with you.

You want Clara to tell you herself, one day, but until she’s ready, if ever...

Lucien's voice is dark and low, barely audible when he answers, “He made her love him.”

You doubt anyone can make someone love another person. Not really. But now can’t help but wonder if Lucien feels like that man stole the Clara he knew—Clara that smiled—away from him and that’s what boils his blood. Something that he considered his own was taken from him and he was powerless to stop it.

“And did he love her back?”

He was a fool if he didn’t.

Lucien is quiet for a long, long time after that question, and you feel him staring out towards the twinkling skyline.

“There is a reason why he’s still alive.”

. . .

an: yeah, little to no context and I don’t really expect anyone to read this or care but if you did and happen to enjoy it thank you very much for giving it a chance! love you guys lots. this was written a solid month back so discord gang this is familiar to you lot *wiggles eyebrows*

#oc x reader #oc writing #original writing #reader insert #c: lucien #c: clara #s: we are bound #v: npfh #i said reader is here for both and what of it? also yeah oc!v/clara is bi too so (blows kisses)#anon #asks

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nearlymanaged · 4 years

Text

21. The Long Wait and James’ Exasperation

“Remus!” Suzy, a bespectacled Gryffindor sixth year with enchanted flowers braided into her hair, caught up with him.

“Hey,” Remus stopped, holding the portrait hole open for her.

“Thanks…” She breathed out as she climbed in with an armful of assorted spellbooks, quills, parchment, and ink bottles. “My bag broke today,” she explained.

“I’m sorry,” he offered a genuine smile. “My bag’s broken once, too. Granted, it was being held by James and Sirius. Who were flying on two separate brooms at the time. So maybe not quite the same...”

Suzy let out a tickled laugh and almost dropped half of her things just then. Remus, however, reacted in time and, with a flick of his wand, lifted all of the weight out of the girl’s arms. “Thanks again,” she beamed.

“No worries. Well, have fun with…” he gently pushed one of the books, floating mid-air, out of the way, “History of Magic,” he said after a glance at the cover. “Ah yes, the class that, six years in, has taught me how to take notes while napping…”

Suzy laughed again, taking over the steering of her possessions with her own wand now. “That’s actually hilariously accurate… Maybe we could work on our homework together sometime, for moral support?”

“I do lead a study group every Thursday… Although lately, it’s been more like every once in a blue moon, whenever we can squeeze it into everyone’s schedules...”

“Maybe you and I can have a private study group then?”

“Er…” Remus stammered while his brain worked to figure out whether Suzy was asking him out or genuinely trying to get some help with homework. For some reason, he thought, the older he got, the harder it was to read anyone. “I’m absolute shite at History of Magic..?” He attempted with a shrug.

“Then maybe I can tutor you some?”

Ah… It certainly sounded like the girl’s interests spanned beyond homework. A mild panic was setting in as Remus tried to come up with an appropriate response, but nothing came to mind. So he decided to just go for it, as clumsy and awkwardly as he knew it would come out.

Thing was, Remus never really came out to people. Yes, obviously he had been open about his sexuality with Vincent, and at this point, most (if not all) of his friends had caught on, and, matter of fact, he didn’t care if the whole school knew. He felt like a bit of a freak anyway, what’s another thing to add to the list? He just never went around talking about it. In all fairness, it was probably because he’d gotten used to keeping it to himself at home, with his dad around. He could hardly imagine having that conversation with his family (“Hey dad, guess what? I’m gay!”) so he had sort of pushed that idea aside and moved on altogether. But now, he inhaled deeply in anticipation...

“Suzy... I’m…”

“Alright, I’ll just say it… I just need a couple of bottles of butterbeer and I…”

“...ga-- What?” Remus froze all of a sudden, only his eyelids fluttering in a rapid succession of baffled blinks.

“Did you...just say you’re gay?” Suzy peered at him, looking no less confused than he felt.

“I…er...”

“I knew it,” someone uttered in a group of fifth years flocking around the nearest sofa.

“Nevermind that,” Remus mumbled while wishing to literally die right then and there. “You said you need butterbeer?”

“Ehm, yes. I know that you and your friends know where to get some…” Suzy, very graciously, employed a facial expression determined to ignore Remus’ little outburst.

He hastily assured her that he’d talk to his friends and get some butterbeer for her during their next expedition to a mysterious source that Suzy had no business knowing anything about anyway. Still feeling the burning embarrassment pulsing all the way from the pit of his stomach to the top of his head, Remus turned to run upstairs to put his stuff away and maybe suffocate himself with a pillow while he was at it. Before he could leave the scene of his mortification, however, he was beckoned over by the very giggly duo of Lily and Dorcas.

“Rem, did you just yell ‘I’m gay’ at--”

“Five points from Gryffindor.”

Lily let out a loud gasp that somehow ended with an indignant squeal. “James told me you do that…” She crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips, but didn’t say another word about the topic.

“Welcome to the club, Remus,” Dorcas grinned at him. “I always knew there was a reason I liked you. Straight people can be so...intense sometimes -- no offense, Lily,” she finished with a smirk.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t judge all straight people based on Potter…”

Both Dorcas and Remus cackled at this. “What about you, miss I Hate This Arrogant Toerag But I’ll Still Spend Every Waking Moment Hanging Out Around Him?” Remus tilted his head rather eloquently with a little quirk of his eyebrows.

“Oh! Please! Pshh!” Lily started shuffling around in her seat with an outraged glare.

“That’s what I’ve noticed, too!” Dorcas beamed at Remus. “She can’t get enough of him lately, can she?”

“You think it has anything to do with him being Quidditch captain?”

“Well, straight people do seem to have a thing about sports…”

“Shut up, you idiots!”

“So - and forgive me for being so blunt - Sirius?” Dorcas beamed at Remus, evidently deciding that Lily’s had enough mortification for the time being.

“What about him?”

“Rumour has it, you’ve got the hots for the Black boy?”

“The rumour’s name wouldn’t happen to be Lily, would it?” Remus shot a pointed glance at the girl in question, but Dorcas merely chuckled at it rather dismissively.

“There’s also the fact that everyone in this school has eyes and ears, Remus. And some of us know how to use them, too. Question is, who’s going to make the first move?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Remus felt a kind of warmth flood over him - against his own logical thought, he couldn’t help but feel pleased to know that other people could see it. “Hard to say,” he mumbled through a grin that refused to be toned down.

“I think it should be you,” Lily stated matter-of-factly.

“How so?”

“Because, obviously, you’re the somewhat more sensible one.”

“I don’t think romance has much to do with sensibility, Lils,” Dorcas leaned back in her seat. “I think it’ll be Sirius. Precisely because he lacks it.”

“What are we, making bets on my life now?” Remus folded his arms over his chest; he only barely resisted the temptation to reference their very secret plan that he wasn’t supposed to know anything about.

“That’s a great idea!” Dorcas cackled at his feigned indignation.

“All jokes aside,” Lily beamed, “I have a feeling you two will get together soon. It’s Spring, after all. A time for new beginnings.”

“I thought you dropped Divination?” Remus pulled a funny face at her, pretending to be puzzled by her words.

“Yes. But, as Dorcas already pointed out, some of us have functioning eyes and ears.”

“And some of us might even know more than we let on…” Dorcas uttered, a faint smirk curving her lips.

Lily smacked her arm lightly. “Dee!”

“What?”

“What?” Remus echoed, his eyes darting between the two girls.

“Nothing. Dorcas has a strange sense of humour, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh… So anyway, speaking of new beginnings--”

“Oh will you drop it?” Lily cut across him rather sternly. “Even if I did agree to go out with him, so what?” She added quieter.

“Oh? I was going to say, isn’t it strange that the last summer of our Hogwarts years is almost here. But your thing is more entertaining,” Remus shot her a smug grin.

“Remus!”

“What?” He laughed out.

“And she might agree to go out with him sooner than we’d suspect, too.”

“Dorcas!!”

The three of them went on about sensible minds and love and sensible minds in love; mostly courtesy of Lily and Dorcas while Remus was quietly replaying every moment he’d spent with Sirius in the past few days, only occasionally offering a joke or a commentary. This was happiness, he thought. To have friends that cared (enough to devise some sort of a secret plan) and a boyfriend who was one of the best friends he’d ever had and one of the best people he’d ever known. This was happiness - being seventeen and in love and surrounded by good people, and it didn’t even matter that he had just embarrassed himself in front of Suzy and half the Gryffindors.

* * *

Remus looked like there was some kind of a magical glow about him as he sat there - bathed in sunlight streaming in through the high, narrow windows of History of Magic classroom, his chin in his hand, his quill unceasingly taking notes. There certainly was a distinct warm and bright afternoon laziness in the air, which rendered Sirius completely unable to pay the slightest bit of attention to Mr Binns’ monotonous recital of Gargoyle Strike of 1911 facts.

Instead, his gaze was resting on the side of Remus’ face, quasi-secretly taking in the way the sun glistened in his sand and honey coloured hair, the way that that one scar ran across the bridge of his nose like a vein of ore, the way that his eyelids lowered over his brilliantly green irises, the way his soft, yet always a little chapped lips feebly formed silent words here and there as he wrote them down...

“Sirius, you’re staring.”

“You’re just now noticing?” Sirius purred back at Remus’ whispered observation.

“I was busy taking notes, which you’ll be thankful for later.”

“I’ve been staring at you longer than that.”

“Stop it…” Remus mumbled, quieter now, a slight blush tinting his cheeks and ears, which Sirius noticed to his great delight.

“Surely, you don’t actually mean it, do you?”

“Stop it, Sirius…” He repeated with even less conviction in his voice.

“What do you think they’re planning? To get us together?” Sirius perked up slightly, genuinely eager to dive into speculation about the topic. In all honesty, anything that had to do with Remus had been his favourite topic lately -- or not so lately.

“I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about it too,” the boy’s eyebrows slowly knit together over his thoughtful eyes. “I can’t imagine anything that would require James and Lily to go on a fake date.”

“You can’t use your own logic for this. We need to think like them,” Sirius grinned.

“Ah yes… We must think like someone who’s gotten hit in the head by a bludger more times than I have fingers.”

“Hey!” Sirius protested and then shrugged apologetically, remembering he was in the middle of a classroom. “I’ve gotten hit by a bludger too. Read the room, Moony.”

“So you have. That’s why I talk so slowly whenever you’re around,” Remus whispered and gave Sirius a smile that might have been intended as an expression of mischief but in reality looked more flirtatious than anything else.

“And yet,” Sirius leaned in a little closer, speaking a little quieter, feeling a little giddier, “I happen to be where you choose to lay your affections.”

“I never claimed to be perfect…”

“You’re such a tease, Moony.”

“You bring it out of me,” Remus mumbled as he bit down on his lip, evidently determined to bridle his grin. “When do you think they’ll carry out their secret plan?”

“Hm… I don’t know, there’s not really anything special happening anytime soon. The Quidditch game, maybe?”

“But surely, James can’t be on a fake date with Lily if he’s playing Quidditch?”

“Good point. D’you think they’ll fake an injury? That’s probably very likely, statistically speaking.”

“Statistically speaking?” Remus shot him a curious glance.

“Fake injuries tend to be the driving force of a lot of our successful pranks, don’t they?” Sirius grinned.

Just then, the bell rang throughout the castle and all the students started getting up from their desks and funneling out into the hallways. Sirius and Remus both shoved their belongings into their bags and started heading for the door of the classroom along with their fellow sixth years.

“Why is Suzy McGregor giving you weird looks?” Sirius gently nudged Remus’ ribcage. “What?” He asked when Remus took a deep breath and sighed.

“I yelled at her..?

“You yelled at her?..”

“That I’m gay…”

“You...pardon?”

“I thought she was trying to ask me out…” Remus kept trailing off as he spoke, determined to slowly but surely power through this embarrassing tale, holding his wide glossy gaze straight ahead as they walked out into the corridor.

“But she wasn’t?” Sirius offered curiously.

“She just wanted some butterbeer…”

“But not on a date with you?”

“No. I’m not invited to drink butterbeer with her.”

“Why’d you--”

“She chose very confusing wording to lead with, alright? And besides,” Remus finally met Sirius’ eyes, “it’s not like I don’t ever get asked out by people.”

“I wasn’t trying to imply,” Sirius smiled brightly. “I mean, I asked you out myself, didn’t I? What?” His expression clouded over with a confused kind of smile when Remus laughed.

“I wouldn’t exactly call that asking someone out.”

“Well you should look up the definition of asking someone out because that was exactly it!”

“You asked me to help you with homework. Exactly like you’ve done dozens of times before.”

“If not hundreds. But that’s not the point,” Sirius whispered hastily as they were overtaken by a group of Ravenclaw sixth years. “I’m sure it’s nothing compared to whatever Vincent would have done,” he blurted out without thinking.

“Vincent?” Remus repeated that name as if he’d never heard it before, to Sirius’ vague delight. “What’s he got to do with anything?” He was smiling now.

“I don’t know, you seemed pretty fond of him…” Sirius trailed off this time, unsure where he was going. For some reason, all of a sudden, he simply wanted to know that he was more important and special to Remus than the French git -- which was a ridiculous thought, seeing as they’d been inseparable friends for years.

“I think that’s a bit of an overstatement.”

“It is?”

“Are you jealous?” A big smile blossomed over Remus’ mouth as he uttered the question.

“Should I be?” Sirius shrugged nonchalantly as he thought to himself that he was, he absolutely was.

“Sirius.”

“Remus?”

Without another word (albeit with a roll of his eyes), Moony grabbed Sirius’ hand and swiftly dragged him into the nearest classroom - which conveniently happened to be one that they often counted on to be empty, for it hadn’t been used for lessons in at least two years.

Before he could figure out what was happening, Sirius found himself pinned against a cold stone wall. Remus’ left hand traveled up to touch his face, ever so gently, to rest along his jawline, as he kissed him slowly and deliberately. Sirius was dimly aware of Moony’s other hand holding his, their fingers laced through each other loosely, yet without intention to let go. He couldn’t comprehend how he had spent so many years without being kissed by this beautiful boy like that.

When Remus pulled away slightly, just enough for their foreheads and noses to still touch, Sirius managed to stammer out, “Moony?”

“Mhm?”

“Where...where did you learn to do this?”

Remus recoiled now, a sheepish smile painted across his beautiful, flushed face. “Sod off, Padfoot.” He turned around on his heel.

“No, I’m serious!” The black haired boy followed him out into the corridor, a giddy grin crowning his own features. “Is this how you kiss other people too?”

“I don’t kiss other people, Sirius…” Remus narrowed his eyes ever so slightly when the other boy caught up with him.

“But in the past!”

“Are you...are you retroactively jealous?”

“Only if you have kissed other people like that,” Sirius mumbled, only half jokingly.

“I don’t know, I’ll have to conduct a survey to see what they have to say.”

“Such a tease,” Sirius smirked at his boyfriend.

He felt so in love and so happy as they walked towards one of the moving staircases. It almost seemed to him as though there had to be a catch to it, as though complete bliss like this wasn’t meant to be free. But whatever the price could be, all he cared about were those green eyes, full of joy and love.

“Oi, Sirius!” James’ voice bellowed over the excited clamour of the hallways. “I’ve been-- Are you two alright?” His demeanor changed instantly when he approached the two boys.

“Yeah, why?” Remus shrugged while Sirius continued to float in the pleasant haze of his own mind.

“Pads is clinging to your arm… Are you hurt?”

“Oh, that,” Remus chuckled and gently peeled Sirius’ fingers off from around his forearm. To Sirius’ own surprise, however, he couldn’t remember how or when his fingers ended up wrapped around it in the first place. “I think I might have broken him…”

“What did you do?”

“I, er…”

“I’ll tell you later, Prongs,” Sirius finally rejoined the reality and their conversation. “So what about you and Evans?” He asked, foolishly - and very much aware of it - hoping that he could nudge James and his mysterious plan into motion a little faster.

“What do you mean?”

“When are you going to get together?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but haven’t you been telling me to forget about her and get over it at least once a week for the past year?”

“Nonsense! Have you been asking her out lately?”

“No…” James narrowed his eyes.

“You were looking for him?” Remus reminded with a nod towards Sirius.

“Ah, yes… Bad news - Quidditch is postponed until next week.”

“Why?” Sirius attempted to sound somewhat interested in the topic, while in all honesty, he was starting to become impatient about an entirely different thing.

“There was a break in at one of Hogsmeade shops. The school,” James uttered these words rather contemptuously, “feels it would be unwise to have the overwhelming majority of pupils out in the open grounds so close to a suspected Death Eater attack.”

“How dare the school,” Remus nodded with a solemn expression; a heartwarming attempt at solidarity.

Sirius, in the meantime, was getting lost in his head again. He was thinking about how much he wanted to tell James that Remus kissed him in Hogsmeade. He wanted all his friends to know. And he wanted to hold Remus’ hand all the time and kiss him whenever he wanted. Sneaking around might have sounded exciting in theory, but he didn’t think that now. And not only that - he wanted everyone to know that they were together, he wanted the whole school to see him with Moony and to realise just how much luckier Sirius was than all of them. He wanted all the students to talk about how much they loved each other and what a lovely couple the two made. He wanted the whole staff to be on the lookout for the snogging in the hallways. He wanted to be able to share his intoxicating happiness with everyone and anyone.

* * *

James pushed a couple of second years out of his way as he darted through the portrait hole, into the common room. He threw a half-hearted apology at them, without so much as a glance, as he made a beeline for the far corner of the room, where a collection of old, red velvet clad furniture crowded around the fireplace.

“Why is everyone talking about how Remus Lupin came out as gay in the common room?!” He stopped in front of the boy in question, his hands on his hips, a subconscious mirror of his mother.

“Wh-- Who’s talking about it?” Remus scrunched his nose, his body frozen halfway through a flinch, the book that he had been reading now lying face up in his lap.

“Who’s...he’s asking me who’s…” James muttered bitterly. “My sources, alright?”

“Your sour--”

“Why am I, once again, forced to learn about things like that from other people?!”

“I didn’t--”

“How do you think that makes me look!?”

“I--”

“Makes me look like a bad friend, Remus! Do you think I’m a bad friend?”

“No…”

“Then why wouldn’t you tell me before you start going around telling the whole school?”

“I didn’t--”

“Nevermind that, I have to go send an owl to my parents to stop asking you about girlfriends.”

“Oh, it’s really alright, they’ve only asked a handful of times--” Remus mumbled feebly, obviously very confused by James’ outburst.

“A handful too many!”

“Prongs, it’s hones--”

“They might start pestering you about boyfriends though…”

“That’s...that’s fine with me, James,” Remus smiled brightly out of the blue.

“Hm, I’ll think about it… Either way, I need to ask for more of mum’s flapjack…”

“You do that, James.”

“I hope you didn’t not tell me that you’re gay because you thought I’d do something ridiculous, like disapprove or give a broom riding fuck at all, honestly. Unless you started fancying me...you know my heart belongs to Evans.”

“I know, James,” Remus was positively radiant now.

“Good. Right. I’ll go send that owl then. Jaffa Cakes?” James lingered on the spot.

“That’d be lovely. Send your parents my love.”

“Will do. Sorry for raising my voice,” he added after a moment’s consideration.

“That’s quite alright.”

“Let me know if anyone gives you grief about it.”

“Thanks, James,” Remus beamed at him, at which he nodded and turned around on his heel.

Now that he’d gone through with the confrontation, his mind was catching up with what had happened - he had overheard a handful of Gryffindors talking about Remus and how he had told Suzy McGregor that he’s gay. Of course, James was aware of Remus’ sexuality, he just never talked to him about it - he wanted to give his friend all the time and space he needed rather than force him to come out if he wasn’t ready. And when he heard those kids talking about it, he couldn’t help but feel hurt; hurt that Remus didn’t feel like he could talk to James, perhaps?

And - just like most things James would get riled up about - now it turned out to not be a big deal at all. Once he paused to think about it, James realised that more than anything, he was worried that Remus would feel like he needed to hide his sexuality just like he’d been hiding his lycanthropy. And if that ever turned out to be the case, he silently swore to himself to do anything he could to make Remus feel like he didn’t have to be ashamed about any part of his wonderful existence.

As James was crossing the common room, deep in thought, he almost walked right past Sirius, who had just descended from the dormitories.

“Were you aware that Remus is, in fact, very much not straight?” James grabbed his arm and pulled him closer.

“Er…” Sirius briefly stared off across the room before returning his gaze to James’ face. “Vaguely.”

“As in, he’s very much gay.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Did he already tell you!?” James gasped.

“Not exclusively, no.”

“Well? Aren’t you happy about it?!”

“Oh! Yes, very!” Sirius nodded a tad too vigorously.

“Do you not fancy him anymore?” James screwed up his face in confusion. He’d been finding himself growing more and more exasperated lately; he couldn’t figure out why his two friends were being such idiots and was beginning to put more and more stock into Lily and Peter’s plan.

“Oh no, I do. I very much do.”

“Why won’t you just tell him?!” James whispered hotly, gesturing his arms around.

“Oh, you know,” Sirius shrugged, “because we’re friends and all that jazz, I guess.”

“Are you sure you still fancy him?”

“Yes. Aren’t you?”

“You haven’t been whining about him lately.”

“I don’t whine, excuse you,” Sirius puffed out his chest dramatically.

At this, James let out an amused laugh. “Sure. You want to walk to the owlery with me?”

“Uh…” Sirius stared off again. “I needed to talk to Remus, actually. About the study group thing...”

“You know, if the boy doesn’t figure out that the only reason you attend his study groups is so that you could stare at him, then maybe I’ve overestimated his intelligence…”

“How dare you,” Sirius popped his eyes in another facetious gesture. “I care about my education, that’s all.”

“Mhm.” James arched his eyebrows and watched Sirius walking away for a few moments before continuing on his way.

Some thirty minutes later, James was back at the portrait hole, giving the Fat Lady the password, when Lily caught up with him.

“Potter,” she nodded with comical gravitas.

“Evans,” he mirrored her. “Coming back from a Dorks Anonymous meeting?” He cast a glance at the stack of books in her arms.

“Is that your new seduction tactic?” She squeezed past him, through the portrait hole into the common room.

“Is it working?”

Lily opened her mouth, as if about to say something, but then just laughed, melting James’ heart just a tad more.

“Say, have you noticed anything strange about Remus and Sirius?”

“Yes, actually,” she stepped aside, out of the way of people climbing in and out the common room entrance, and turned to James. “I couldn’t put my finger on it at first, but they seem to have started acting a lot less...annoying?”

“Yes!” James grabbed Lily’s shoulders excitedly and gave her a light shake. “Sirius hasn’t been whining...at all, really. ”

“And Remus isn’t staring at Sirius with that pining look at mealtimes. In fact, I saw him hand feed Sirius at lunch the other day.”

“I’ve seen Remus braid Sirius’ hair at least three times this week.”

“I’m so confused… Why won’t they just get it over with and get together?”

“You know, I’m starting to think your plan will prove to be a necessity…”

“Oh, interesting.” Lily shuffled her weight on one foot and raised an eyebrow as she shot him a sly smirk. “I seem to remember you calling it a waste of our time.”

“Can’t hurt to try, can it?” James shrugged defensively, trying not to stare at her lips too obviously as he did.

“Well, we’ve just got a couple more weeks before the next Hogsmeade trip. We’ll have to start thinking about how to fake this date,” Lily grimaced.

“I do have feelings, you know. You could at least pretend to not be repulsed by the idea,” James pouted.

“I’m not! That’s not what I mean…”

“I’m just yanking your wand, Evans,” he chuckled and fell into step beside her when she started for their usual corner of the common room.

Before they even reached their friends, they exchanged very eloquent looks at the sight of Sirius perched up on the armrest of Remus’ chair - they seemed to have formed a new habit of sharing a seat whenever they could get away with it (anytime they weren’t in class).

“Sirius,” Lily squinted at him, “are you wearing Remus’ sweater vest?..”

James’ eyes darted to Sirius, his face screwing up in a horrible realisation that he had somehow missed that detail up until then.

“This?” Sirius tugged at the hem of it. “Yep.”

“But…” James peered at him. “You always make fun of it. You hate it, don’t you!?”

“Hate it!? Dear Merlin, of course I don’t hate it.”

“I’ve literally heard you describe this exact piece of clothing as a ‘poor shoe shiner child’s uniform’, multiple times.”

“Dragondung, I would never say that.”

“No, actually,” Remus interjected with a very indulgent smirk, lowering his book in his lap, his index finger marking the page, “I too remember you saying those exact words.”

#i've been so busy with work #also both my physical and mental health crumbling to pieces #this certainly ain't my best work #but here it is #fanfic #Wolfstar fanfiction #hogwarts #marauders #sirius black #remus lupin #lily evans #james potter

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blushing-starker · 3 years

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hiii darling!! saw you were a bit desperate for smth sweet and good so!!💗💗

i’ve sent this prompt to jae before, but i still adore the idea of little peter being in daycare and developing a fever! and daddy tony brings him to daddy stephens practice where he works as a family doctor. and so lil peter gets examined by his own daddy and cries in the cutest and most heart aching way when dada gives him an injection to bring down his fever🥺🌡

but tony comforts him of course!

“dada had to do that so you’ll feel better, baby.”

“i’ll see you later today at home, petey. i’ll bring you something yummy from the store, okay? now, go along with papa and cuddle loads with him till i get back home. that’s doctor dada’s orders.” - raf🐇

here you go! The first part while I crank out the second part. I know you read it already but I wanted to at least post it. Thanks for sending me the ask dear! I really appreciate it! 💓

It starts on Monday in the sandbox during recess. Peter doesn't really hang out in the small park right next to the classroom, prefers the cool temperature of the library where Miss Maria often turns a blind eye to his antics involving a screwdriver and the dismantling of any electronic device he and Ned can get their hands on. MJ, just a year older, is halfway sure the librarian purposely leaves old toys on the lowest shelf, but she isn't a snitch and it's, don't tell anyone though, fun to spend time watching the two boys figure out a way to pry open clocks.

His daddies are overjoyed their boy is like them, enamoured by how things work and how they could improve such things with the minimum of resources. In fact, Tony cried while talking over the phone with his mother, eager to tell Maria how her grandson replaced the wheel of a car the daycare was about to throw out in a few days. Peter, ever vigilant, had run to his daddy, afraid he was hurt or sad. He'd thrust the car into Tony's hand to make him feel better and Stephen's absolutely ridiculous husband sobbed harder while nearly suffocating their child in a hug. Maria sent Tony's old engineering kit from when he was a child and their Kleenex ran out the minute Peter wandered over to poke at it.

Stephen shouldn't tease Tony too much. After all, the doctor spent more time bragging about his little boy's intelligence than he did discussing his patients’ conditions. And maybe, just maybe, he sobbed in the bathroom when Ned came for a sleepover and loudly proclaimed his best friend had comforted another classmate when they fell and hurt their knee. Apparently, Peter had sent Ned to warn Miss Wanda while he calmly explained that all they had to do was elevate the area, clean with soap, wrap a Hello Kitty bandaid on the wound, get ice on it and be attentive to any signs of fever.

The whole thing was exactly, word for word, what Stephen had told Peter when his boy tripped on the sidewalk and roughed up a knee. Tony found him sniffling while cleaning out old anatomy books that suspiciously appeared in Pete's bedroom the next day.

They don't talk about it. But now the whole family has a bet on what the young boy's profession will be.

Yes, his daddies are happy he's shown an interest in their fields of study. Yes, they want him to explore and learn and have fun with different subjects. Thing is, they also know how important it is for a child to go outside and play with others. An intake of vitamin D was very good for a growing boy.

(That's bull, they would have gladly given ten thousand toys to Maria Hill for her to leave around the library so the trio could dismantle them. But then Miss Wanda cornered them in the hall and told them that no, Peter also needs a bit of sun and some interactions with people besides Ned, MJ and Shuri, a girl from another group who also liked the library. They begrudgingly agreed.)

So Monday morning after waffles drenched with too much syrup Stephen chooses to ignore are devoured by two sets of grabby hands, Peter’s daddies gently suggest he spend a few minutes playing outside with the others.

Peter pauses, screwdriver in midair and toy car set down on the table with careful movements. There's a little furrow between his brows, so identical to Stephen's that Tony wants to kiss both his boys for being the cutest people in the world. He refrains from doing so because ‘Peter needs to know when we're being serious, Tony, and that means no kisses during serious conversations’.

“Have,” oh no, their boy is chewing his lip, abort mission, abort, “have I been bad, dadas?”

Tony accidentally rams his elbow into his husband's ribs when pouncing on Peter and Stephen is very close to considering divorce. “No! No, baby, you've been good all month. Promise. Daddy and dada just want you to get a bit of sun, play around with the others for a few minutes and then sneak off into the library.”

“ Tony, that isn't what we agreed, oh Christ. “ This elbow jab was on purpose. Stephen stumbles out his chair, muffles the curse words against the kitchen counter while his horrible partner cradles Pete's face and presses kisses all over the boy desperately trying not to stab his daddy with the screwdriver.

“Don't listen to dada, you can spend five minutes out and then visit Miss Hill.”

“ Who? “ That scrunch is back and Tony loves Peter more than anything in the world. Well. No, he loves kissing Peter more than anything in the world. The boy giggles, reciprocates as much as he can until Tony cheats and tickles soft skin under a cotton sweater.

“Miss Maria, Tony. They call her by her first name instead of the last name. I'm getting some ice. Jesus, do you sharpen that thing?”

------

He can be a good boy. He's a good boy. Five minutes outside. Peter can be outside while Ned’s in the bathroom and MJ heats up her lunch for the day.

(Ned and Pete had the daycare mac and cheese; their bestie preferred homemade pizza.)

It's not that he dislikes the park; it's a cool park! There are slides and hiding spots and swings and trees for shade and the wheel that they're only allowed to be on if the teacher's controlling the speed. But the library is always slightly cold and full of adventure.

Sometimes they read a Star Wars book series laid on the floor in a circle with blankets and pillows Miss Maria brings them. If the trio feels tired, Shuri invites them over to the movie area her friends have set up with Disney films queued up. When their spirits are higher, electronics prepare to be dismantled.

Still. He can be good. And, besides Flash who doesn't really get along with him, all of Peter's classmates are nice and fun. The only problem is where to spend, Loki!

Peter runs to the sandbox, jumps over the bridge to a slightly odd looking Loki that's waving his hands in a general ‘no, don't run at me, slow down’ motion. He's too excited to not tackle the teenager that helps Miss Wanda during recess by entertaining twenty kids with wild tales full of magic and wonder.

Hands that never warm up that much immediately curl around a small body and there's a weakened chuckle buried in Peter's fluffy hair. “Hello, little puppy. Odd seeing you without your two companions. Odd seeing you at all, really, since that cute nose of yours is always buried in a toy or book.”

Pete smashes his face into a soft shirt, loves how safe Loki makes him feel with his hugs and hair ruffling. He likes Thor, too, although he prefers the younger brother a lot more. Which Stephen says is a bit unfair since the only reason Thor can't hang out with him as much as Loki does is because the blonde trains during recess with Sif and the others in the wrestling team.

Loki can change his voice a lot; a gift very few have, Peter's grandma once mentioned, and even fewer people use it well. Miss Wanda tries to take them to all the school plays so they can cheer on the others and break routine, but the first graders are very adamant on which theatre kid they love most. Thor's brother could paint the air and make even the most boring speech exciting to hear. Peter was obsessed, dragged his daddies to every play Loki was in and pleaded for a picture afterward. Not that he had to ask for long; the youngest of three would often take multiple shots with Peter before anyone else could even come close to him.

You could say Pete was Loki's number one fan. Which meant he knew how to distinguish between Loki's voices. After the face smashing ritual, he peeled away to squint at cheeks too pale and eyes too red. Relatively tiny fists curled around black cloth.

“Are you hurt, Loki?”

“Not at all, sweet puppy. I'm just sick. Thor and I went back home on Saturday and we seem to have caught a cold. Which is why it's probably better you don't stand so close, wouldn't want you getting sick. My parents decided we should stay home, but I left one of my books here, the one about Viking stories, remember, last Friday and came to pick it up. “

He remembers the book, a heavy thing with a leather cover and wolves drawn on pale paper every few pages. The story about Thor dressing up and tricking the giants is Peter's favorite. Imagining his Thor wear a bride's veil tends to make him giggle.

“So I can't have a kiss?” He pouts, peers at Loki through dark eyelashes, even wobbles a pink lip when it looks like he won't get what he wants. It works as soon as tears cloud his eyes. Like daddy, like son.

The teen sighs, leans down to plant a single kiss on Peter's forehead when a classmate nearby falls into the pit, sand goes up Loki's nose and the dark haired boy sneezes all over Peter.

-------

It takes an hour for him to start sniffling and complain about cotton in his head. Thirty minutes after that, Ned catches him wiping a runny nose with a sleeve. Said sleeve is completely drenched in less than a class’ duration. Miss Wanda calls Tony in to pick his boy up during a midday meeting he couldn't care less about as soon as the teacher says ‘it looks like a cold and he shows symptoms of a fever’.

He probably breaks ten driving laws in the span of fifteen minutes, but that's insignificant when you're friends with Mayor Rogers and your husband fixes up the arm of one Mr Rogers-Buchanan. Tony crashes into the principal's office, deflates with relief when he sees principal Fury teaching Peter how to unscrew a cabinet infamous for being creaky.

“And now I spray a little oil so it doesn't make the weird noises?”

“ That's right, now we take the can, spray just a tiny bit, like I showed you, that's good. Remember to always have a paper towel nearby in case it drips. Those are some very nice pants you have on and I'd hate to see them stained. “ Peter sticks his tongue out, carefully dabs under the oiled up hinge, motions a fond looking Fury to hand him the screwdriver, and gets to work.

Tony leans against the doorway, shushes his friend and Peter's godmother, Nat, when she comes in with coffee for Fury. They stay there, take it all in and realize Pete's growing up. They also realize they might win the bet.

“Ow! Gosh darn it, pinched my finger while getting the cabinet adjusted.” Fury sucks his finger, is probably running through much darker curse words in his head when Peter gently plucks his finger out and presses it against the cold side of a water bottle Miss Wanda most likely gave him to help the fever.

“Ice helps the inflammation, principal Fury. If it doesn't go down, and I don't think it will cuz this is just cold and doesn't have any ice in it, you should eat a snack and take some medicine. “ Tony swears he's never seen Fury more proud or pleased than in that moment.

“Your daddy tell you that, Peter?’

“ Oh no, sir. Daddy can't really, uh, his mind is too busy thinking about building robot bodies to think about human bodies. Don't tell anyone, but grandma says she saw him put butter on his elbow after he knocked it on the door. “

“Really? How old was he? Maybe he was small and didn't know any better.”

“ That was last week, principal Fury. Dada's the one that taught me all about the human body. Daddy couldn't figure out our medicine cabinet with an instructions manual and a Youtube tutorial. “

Tony clears his throat while Fury’s busy howling against the carpeted floor and Natasha cackles on her way to the infirmary.

“Hey, baby. Daddy's here to take you to dada’s.”

#peter parker #tony stark #stephen strange #ironstrange #starkerstrange #little!peter #daddy!tony #dada!stephen #awesome facial bros #my writing #rafni bunny

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