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the-writing-trash-panda · 1 year ago

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Hold me Close

Pairing: Snotlout x Ruffnut

Words: 643

Prompt: being close on a rainy day

Genre: fluff

Time: after 3rd movie

The sound of rain pounding against the roof and the steady burn of the fire were the only things keeping Ruffnut company at the moment. Normally she would be out with her brother doing Thor knows what stupid thing, but he had forced her to stay inside due to her current condition; sometimes she couldn’t tell who was worse him, or her husband. Now she found herself sharpening almost every weapon in the house to keep herself entertained. She had just finished with the Jorgenson Family Axe that she and Snotlout had stolen on their wedding, when who should walk in but a soaking wet and muddy Snotlout?

“What happened to you,” Ruffnut asked though she was pretty sure she already knew.

“You’re stupid brother,” Snotlout grumbled, removing his boots and helmet.

“Looks like you had fun,” the blonde sneered, and if her partner had noticed he made no effort to figure out why she was upset.

“If that’s what you call almost getting crushed by a mudslide.” Ruffnut glanced at her now shirtless husband hoping he would go on to explain what exactly happened. After cleaning off and changing into dry clothes Snotlout sat in the other chair and relayed how the prank he and Tuff had tried to pull on Hiccup backfired and caused a giant mudslide. “You would have loved it.”

Ruffnut could feel her eye twitching as she fought back her initial rage. Instead, she opted for a sarcastic reply, “Yeah it would’ve been awesome.” Finally taking notice of how frustrated she was, Snotlout looked at her with a raised eyebrow, silently asking her what was bugging her. After about thirty seconds of staring at each other Ruffnut caved.

“I just want to be back out causing havoc with Tuff but I can’t for obvious reasons,” the blonde explained, pausing to collect her thoughts and emotions. “I guess knowing that you are out there with my brother and I’m stuck at home is kinda just salt in the wound,” she continued, her usual carefree demeanor hidden under her negative emotions.

“Yeah, I know this sucks but it will all be worth it once our little ‘Lout is born,” Snotlout said, placing his hand on Ruff’s baby bump.

“Who said they’re going to be a ‘Lout?” Ruffnut asked, back to her normal self.

“Well, I sure as hell ain’t naming them Nut.” At that, the wind blew open the door and a crash of lightning and thunder struck a little too close for comfort.

“I’m sorry Thor, the child can be named Nut!” Snotlout screamed in his usual high-pitched girly voice.

“Come here you coward,” Ruffnut sighed after closing the door and sitting back down. Snotlout clung to his wife while she played with his hair slowly being lulled to sleep by the sound of the rain and the warmth of the one man who truly loved her for who she was.

Bonus drabble

“It’s gone!” Driftlout yelled causing a panic to spread amongst the wedding guests. He had gone to retrieve the Jorgenson Ceremonial Battel Axe only to find it was missing from its display. It was a Jorgenson family tradition that a marriage could only commence after the axe was gifted to the couple. A search was soon conducted giving the two culprits the chance to escape. The only thing that gave them away was the barking laughter and the iconic ‘Snotlout!’

“Miss Ruffnut Jorgenson you are a bad example on me,” Snotlout murmured as he and his new wife lay in their bed enjoying this rare moment of peace and freedom from a certain Thorston twin.

“Well, mister Snotlout Jorgenson, you're the one that chose to marry a ‘Nut,” the blonde retorted before catching his lips in a passionate kiss. The rest of the night was spent in pure bliss, the only thing important to them being each other.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #rufflout #httyd rufflout #ruffnut thorston #httyd ruffnut #snotlout jorgenson #httyd snotlout #otp writing #30 day otp challenge #otp prompts #one shot #fanfic #fanfiction #httyd fanfiction

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sheepwithspecs · 1 year ago

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30 Day NSFW Challenge: Day 3

|| PLvsAA || Rated M || (1 /29)

Ao3 Link

A NSFW collection based off the 30 Days OTP NSFW Challenge prompt list on Tumblr: all Barnham/Darklaw. Different ratings, universes, etc. but it's all varying levels of NSFW content.

Day 3: First Time

“I can’t show you!”

“Why not?” Zacharias Barnham was a man who prided himself on patience. After all, it was practically the first tenant of knighthood. But his patience—or lack thereof—was his weak spot, and now it was being sorely tested by the one person on the island whose opinion truly mattered: his girlfriend.

Eve had summoned him at the last minute, all but demanding he make the lengthy journey across the island to her home. Never mind that he’d worked a full shift in the bakery that day, or that he’d spent the better part of the evening training with his squire. Never mind that he’d only just showered, and changed into his nightclothes, and collapsed onto the bed with an exhausted groan. No, he must come, and his many questions must go unanswered until the moment he arrived on her doorstep. But now that he was here, having gotten dressed, saddled his horse, and raced across the fields in the dusky twilight, she refused to see him.

Or, rather, she refused to let him see her.

“What am I meant to do?” he huffed, throwing up his hands as the last shreds of his patience began to fray at the seams. “Stand here until dawn?” The lady’s maid that had accompanied him upstairs shrugged her shoulders, the very picture of disinterest.

“Your guess is as good as mine, sir.” She leveled a brow at him, the corner of her mouth quirked in a half-smile. It was as though she dared him to try and take the reins from Eve’s hands, to regain some control of the chaos. But how could he possibly do that, when he had no idea what the problem even was?! “In any case, good luck.” Before he could say a word she was halfway down the hall, washing her hands of the whole situation with a toss of her braid.

“Ugh….” Stumped, he turned back to the locked door. “I’ve had a long day, Eve, and I’m tired. If you refuse to open the door, I’m returning to the bakery and—”

��No! Please, wait.” The lock clicked, but when he moved to open the door he found it braced from the other side. There was a muffled thump and a small sigh; he could only imagine Eve leaning against the door, her cheek to the solid wood as she held it shut. “I’m worried you might… laugh at me.”

“Trust me: I am not in a laughing mood.”

“See? You’re already upset. What if you get even angrier when I show you?”

“I—” He sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth, willing his temper to die down before he proved her point. “I am not going to be angry,” he promised, once he was sure he could speak without raising his voice. “Now let me in, or I’m going home.” The door finally opened just enough to show a single, beautiful eyeball gazing mournfully at him through the crack.

“Promise you won’t laugh at me.”

“I swear it.” The crack widened until it was just large enough for him to squeeze through. He hesitated only a moment, wondering why she saw fit to hide behind the door instead of greeting him with her usual enthusiasm. Normally she was wont to tackle him the moment he made his presence known, pawing and pouting until he obligingly bent low enough for a kiss. Had something changed? Was she already growing tired of their newly fledged relationship?

Of course not. With a firm shake of his head, he purged the fleeting doubts before they had time to take root. Eve cared for him and valued his good opinion; she would not be so worried about his laughter or his anger, were it not so. And, were she planning to end the relationship today, why would she bother waiting until so late in the evening? Why would she invite him into the comfort and privacy of her own home? She could have just as easily met him at the Courthouse, or the tavern, or the Square. No, she had not called him here for that; though rusty with disuse, his inquisitor’s sense told him something more was at play here.

“D-Don’t turn around just yet.” He obediently stopped in the center of the room, staring at the wide four poster bed on the opposite wall. A white cardboard box lay open at the foot of the bed, tissue paper and ribbons thrown in disarray across the neatly turned bedsheets. His brows creased as he added this new piece of information to the puzzle, newfound curiosity at war with his honor as a knight, a boyfriend, and a man of his word.

“Did you visit the tailor?”

“Well…” Eve shut the door behind him, the lock clicking back into place. “Sort of,” she muttered, creeping up to stand directly behind him. Loose curls tickled his arms as she pressed her forehead against his spine, embracing him from behind. Her forearms were bare, a rare sight for someone so cold-natured.

“May I see?” he asked gently, chaffing the back of her palm with his thumb. She tightened her grip, nails digging into the fabric of his polo shirt. “I did promise,” he reminded her, taking her hand and squeezing it in his own. “There is nothing you could wear that would make me think less of you—unless ‘tis some variation of that absurd outfit Foxy dares to call armor.” The remark earned him a watery chuckle.

“Alright.” She pulled away with a resigned sigh. “Turn around, if you must.”

He turned, fully expecting to see some outlandish, poofy, patterned abomination that would make anyone immediately burst into laughter at a glance. Something with a bustle and petticoats and yards upon yards of neon-colored lace, polka-dots and pinstripes: in short, everything that belonged beneath the wide stripes of a circus tent. In truth he nearly fell to his knees in shock at the sight before him, practically glowing with embarrassment beneath the chandelier. There was lace, to be clear, and it was patterned, but—

“Why—?” he choked, his voice failing him in his astonishment, “W-Why did you think I’d laugh?”

“Because I look ridiculous!” Eve crossed her arms, shaking her head so to better hide her humiliation behind a curtain of dark curls. “I’ve never bought anything like this before, and the lady at the shoppe assured me this was the newest style, but—” She averted her eyes, everything from the tip of her nose to her collarbone mottled with shame. “I look as though I’m wearing my great-grandmother’s lace curtains….”

“You look….” He faltered, uncertain of what he might say to help allay her fears. Stunning? Ethereal? He didn’t want to frighten her off with prose. Beautiful? Mind-blowing? No, she might mistake that for teasing. Gorgeous? Better off sticking to words he could easily spell…. “You look sexy.”

Blathering, brainless idiot! He winced, cursing his tactless tongue. Of all the words in all the dictionaries of the world, he had to go and choose the cheapest, most inefficient, the one that all but stated outright his—

“R-Really? You really think so?” Eve risked a shy glance, peering at him through her eyelashes. “It’s not… you don’t think it’s too much?”

“No, not at all!” he quickly agreed. “It’s… may I have a closer look?”

“I mean… why do you have to ask?” she mumbled, letting her arms fall away reluctantly. “It’s for you, isn’t it?”

“Eh? Is it?”

“Wh— Who else would it be for?!” She glared at him now, further embarrassment fueling her ire. “Aren’t girlfriends supposed to buy cute things to wear for their boyfriends?”

“Hmm? Are they?” he asked absently, his eyes roaming every spare inch of exposed skin and hands fisted at his sides. He didn’t trust himself to touch, at least not until he was acclimated to the sight of her.

Eve wore a lace robe that was clearly meant to be seen through, tied at her waist with a silk ribbon. The white lace formed elegant patterns on her bare skin, the scalloped hem brushing against the tops of her thighs. Beneath the robe she wore a matching black lingerie set, solid fabric edged with more lace. In truth, he was not thinking much about curtains at all. The only thing on his mind was the way the fabric pushed her breasts together, a soft pillow he’d be more than happy to bury his face in. And her thighs on full display, creamy against the pale lace… he cleared his throat, reminding himself to breathe.

“I’ve never bought anything like this before,” she repeated, venturing closer. He reached out, taking the edge of the ribbon and rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. “But I used to think about it… before…. Buying something pretty and wearing it to the Courthouse, letting you see and pretending I didn’t notice.” Another step. “I used to wonder what you would think to know the High Inquisitor had a reason to wear lace… and was shameless enough to wear it to work. It would have been our little secret.”

“I never looked under your skirt,” he protested, tugging at the ribbon until the knot slid undone with a whisper of silk.

“Never?”

“Not… intentionally.” Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his waist and tugged him until they stood chest to chest, scant layers of cloth and lace separating their bodies. He gulped, praying that she wouldn’t realize just how hard he was beneath his trousers. From the way she pressed herself against him, lifting onto the balls of her feet to grind against his thigh, it definitely had not escaped her notice.

“Want to know another little secret?” Resting her chin on his sternum, she plucked teasingly at his belt. “Every time you caught a little glimpse, it was because I wanted you to see.”

“I… um… I figured as much,” he choked, a blush rising to his own cheeks. He had faced countless foes in the Witch’s Court without batting an eye, his iron will strong despite the challenges. And yet how quickly she could reduce him to a stammering mess, with nothing more than a smile and a flutter of her lashes. It was astounding, and he’d yet to find the magic spell that would stop him from melting into a puddle at her feet.

“Did it make you hard?” she whispered with wicked glee, practically climbing him where he stood. He caught her before she could fall, blushing even harder when she wrapped her bare legs around his waist.

“I-I don’t remember.” For a split second he feared her to be drunk. It wasn’t like her to be so forward with her questions, especially when they had never moved beyond the occasional heavy petting. But there were no empty bottles in sight, and her eyes were clear. If she was drunk on anything, it was on her own renewed confidence. Not that he was complaining….

“Are you hard now?” she purred, toying with his collar. As if she didn’t already know, the clear evidence trapped against her. “You know, I was going to send it back, but if you really like the outfit all that much—”

“Don’t send it back,” he interrupted, adjusting his grip on her thighs as he carried her to the bed. “I like it… but right now, all I can think about is how much I want it off.” It was her turn to be shocked, eyes widening at the blatant confession.

“Then get to work.” He shook his head, his brow creasing as he tried to work out how to lay her on the bed without letting her go flying.

“I know you haven’t forgotten our agreement. Six months of dating before we move to the bedroom.”

“You agreed to it,” she argued, prodding him in the chest with one finger. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind since then.”

“Is that the case?” She nodded. “Well, you may have changed your mind, but I have not. Besides, what’s another four weeks?”

“An eternity!” She was pouting again, refusing to let go even after he laid her gently on the center of the bed. “Will you at least hold me?”

“That, I will do gladly.” He collapsed to the mattress beside her, gathering her in his arms and burying his face in the join of her neck and shoulder. If he played his cards right, he could lull her to sleep with his body heat. What he wouldn’t give to spend the night in this featherdown heaven, fast asleep in the arms of his most beloved angel….

“And kiss me?” Eve was not to be deterred, tugging at his collar until he lifted his head. He kissed her slowly, trying to relax rather than arouse her, but his own body continued to betray him. Against his better judgement he ran his hand down the scratchy lace, finding the scalloped edge and sliding beneath it to better feel her smooth skin. Kissing was still new, and they had only made out twice in their few months of courtship—three times, if they were counting that one frenzied moment in the stairwell of the bell tower. But judging by the eager sounds she was making, and the way she buried her fingers in his hair, he wasn’t doing half bad for himself.

He found her silk-clad breast and squeezed, grinning when she squeaked in surprise. His trousers were tight to the point of pain, but he ignored the discomfort in favor of rolling his thumb over her nipple—something he found she’d rather enjoyed during their last exploration. Immediately she began to squirm, thighs clamped around his leg and nails scratching at his scalp.

“What if—” she gasped as he repeated the motion, grinding hard against his thigh. “What if I were to… to do something and… um… and you watch me?” Her teeth worried her lower lip, back arching as he bent to kiss the hollow of her throat. “Would that break the agreement?”

“Maybe that depends on what you want to do.” He lifted his eyes to hers, heart thudding painfully in his chest. “And to whom.”

“T-To myself.” She carefully pushed him to the side, crawling to the head of the bed and rummaging in the bottom drawer of the bedside table. She glanced over her shoulder at him, waiting for his nod before revealing a slender device. “Do you know what this is?”

“Tis a… erm… a vibrator.” To his credit, he’d taken the initiative to educate himself on the modern world of sex following their sixth month pact. If he planned to be intimate with Eve, he wanted to be as ready as possible for anything she might throw at him. Clearly, the research was to his benefit. He would never have recognized the toy otherwise, or been able to discern its particular use.

“Well?” she asked, when he made no further comment. “Is it cheating?”

“No.” The word left his mouth before he could really consider it. “I mean… what difference does it make? You would use it even if I weren’t here. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”

“If that were the case, I don’t know that I’d last six whole—” She stopped, cheeks burning bright red. He watched silently as she fell against the pillows, rolling onto her back and propping up her knees. Despite the comfortable position her body was tensed, eyes swimming with nervous energy as she waited for—what, his signal? Taking pity on her, he pointed to the vibrator in her hand.

“How do you turn it on?”

“Oh, you just—” In the time it took her to flip the switch he was beside her on the bed, leaning with his elbow propped on the same pillow that held her up. She jumped, gazing up at him with a shaky smile that revealed her panic.

“Eve, you don’t have to—” She cut him off with a shake of her head.

“I want to… I do, I’m just… I really haven’t done anything like this before,” she rambled, chewing her kiss swollen lips. “I don’t know how to start.”

“From my understanding—limited though it may be—one simply….” He took her hand in his, the vibrator trapped beneath their laced fingers, trailing down the center of her body. He watched with interest as the hair raised on her arms, a full body shiver running through her as they reached the edge of her panties. His hand stayed above the fabric while hers slipped beneath, fingertips grazing the damp silk before sliding back up to caress her stomach.

“Zack….” He groaned a wordless answer, aching and almost desperate enough to grind against her mattress for some semblance of relief. “Keep watching,” she demanded, pleaded, lifting her hips from the mattress with a whine.

“I am,” he promised hoarsely, teeth at her throat and hand sliding up to tease her breasts again. She gasped, chest heaving as her legs fell apart, and he found himself speaking before he realized it. “Do you think about me? When you do this?”

“Who else would it be?” He hummed noncommittal under his breath, sliding his hand back down to press against hers. The vibration thrummed through his fingers, made stronger by the way she bucked against their combined touch.

“You don’t always have to think of any one person… sometimes you can simply think of nothing at all.”

“Don’t you think of me when—oh—when you’re—”

“Who else?” he parroted, releasing her hand just to see if she would keep the pressure going on her own. She squirmed, thrusting against the air, almost dangerously quiet. “Eve? Breathe!?” She obeyed with a gulp of air, only to hold it again as a fresh wave of sensation caught her by the throat.

“I thought about you even then, before,” he murmured, only half aware that he was even speaking aloud, content to let her chase her pleasure. His attention was solely on the minute changes in her expression, in the way her lashes fluttered and jaw clenched each time his fingers found a new, even more sensitive area to explore. “Every time you flashed me in that short skirt, I thought about you for days and hated myself for it.”

“Don’t.”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t hate yourself for it,” she scolded, the words all jumbled together. “I was worse. I did it in the office. At my desk.”

“While I was there?” He nipped at her lips, coaxing her into a deep kiss.

“Sometimes,” she admitted breathlessly, the moment she was able to answer. “I can be quiet.”

“Well… don’t be.” His hand found hers again, pushing hard enough that she lifted from the bed with a sob. “Show me what I’m missing.” She obliged beautifully, grinding against his hand as she unraveled with a cry. He kept his hand tight against hers, kissing every inch of her that he could reach until she twisted away from him, over sensitized. He fumbled with the soaking wet vibrator, finally managing to turn it off.

“…turn, Zack?”

“What?” She opened her arms, beckoning him to join her again with a sleepy, sated smile.

“I asked if you wanted a turn.” Her hand slipped down to the front of his trousers, eyebrows lifting as she squeezed the full length of him for the first time.

“Nice try.” He batted her hand away, kissing her palm even as his body ached for her touch. “But I can take care of myself.”

“Oh… can I watch?”

#30 day otp challenge #barnlaw #plvsaa #my writing #zacharias barnham #eve belduke

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