#and now just goes to the other room where the pee pad is to go

[girlhorse]

im so taken aback... my sweet boy Enzo has turned into such a Bad boy since we moved Lmao.... my parents have very untrained dogs and have no boundaries so they feed them from the table and let them bark constantly etc. enzo is starting to beg more and Tonight for the first time ever he jumped up on the dining chair onto the dining table and ate a ton of left over food that we were just about to clean up!?!?!?!!! scream

[al-astakbar]

☆ The Gift -- Thrawn x reader ☆

> title ☆ The Gift ☆part 5/?

> summary ☆ As congratulations for his recent promotion to Grand Admiral, Emperor Palpatine gives Thrawn a gift -- a young woman who has been trained as a pleasure companion.

> pairing ☆  Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [1.9k] ☆ warnings for this part ☆ brief sexual language > series warnings ☆ dubious consent; sexual slavery; concubine/ sex slave AU; will add more warnings as more parts are posted

>series navigation ☆ part 1 ☆ part 2 ☆ part 3 ☆ part 4 ☆ part 5 ☆ part 6 ☆ part 7

>posted on ao3

author note!! To be very clear, in this story reader is a concubine against her will and is gifted to Thrawn, but there is at no point any noncon between Thrawn and reader. Reader is never noncon with anyone, either referenced or explicitly, and there is never any explicit noncon. However, this is a darker take on Thrawn and he doesn't really have many hangups about putting his gift to use...

You are awoken in the dark by a shrill, persistent whistle. Disoriented, you twist in the sheets and fumble for your data pad to check the time— before it registers in your brain where you are. The Chimaera. Grand Admiral Thrawn’s personal quarters. Your data pad isn’t here but where you left it on your night table back on Coruscant. Or, more likely, your room has been cleared out for the next trainee. Your personal effects will have been collected and reissued. 

The whistle plays again over the loudspeaker— which you know must not be the correct term for it in the Imperial Navy. You’ll have to refer to it as such in front of Thrawn and see if he gets annoyed enough to correct you. Then, an announcement. 

“Now reveille, reveille. All hands heave out and trice up. Reveille.” 

Just as you are about to flop back down, the door zips open. Thrawn is there, in silhouette. 

You groan in annoyance. 

“Good morning.”

“Is that loud speaker gonna be an every morning type of thing?”

You are slightly disappointed by his lack of reaction. “The time now is—“ he checks his chrono “— one minute past zero six. In twenty minutes, you will accompany me to the bridge. You’ll find your additional daily wear robes in the wall locker, and personal hygiene items in the fresher.”

You just sit there, and contemplate flopping back down and pulling the covers over to block out the light. 

“I recommend you make a start now,” he says. “Whatever state of dress you are in at 06:21 will be what you wear for the rest of the day. Including on the bridge.” He turns and goes back down the short corridor to his office, leaving the hatch open.

Surely he’s bluffing, you reason. Bringing his pleasure companion to such a place would likely embarrass the crew, and damage his reputation. As much as you’ve heard of Grand Admirals and other Imperial elites flaunting their hedonism, few would take such a risk.

On the other hand, testing him seems foolish. 

Mustering great willpower, you swing out of bed, wash and dress, and go to his office. The lights are dim again, and he makes no move to turn them up when he sees you enter.  

“Why do I have to come to the bridge?”

 “I believe you will find it interesting. Alternatively, you may stay here in my quarters, under guard.”

“Would they also watch me pee?”

His eyes narrow. He very deliberately sets down his datapad and walks over to you. Measured, stalking steps, hands behind his back. He does not look to be in a permissive mood. He comes to stand in front of you, close so that you have to look up to his face, and when he speaks, his voice again has that soft, dangerous quality that had made you want to get on your knees for him. 

“I was remiss, last night, in not laying out my expectations for you.”

Last night… you shift on your feet, trying to press your thighs together in a way he won’t notice. There is a dull, sweet ache between your legs, from his size, and the way he had fucked you, hard and thorough. And the low, breathy moan he had given just before he came a second time…

He is much too perceptive, however, and asks if you are sore, or in discomfort. 

You scowl at him, not caring that you’re being a brat about everything. “Like you care.”

“But I do,” he says. “You are mine to use as I wish.”

You feel another swell of arousal, against everything you tell yourself, that it’s wrong and obscene and a betrayal. It’s not how you should feel about him, not when he speaks about you like you’re an object for his pleasure. You blush, looking out the viewport and refusing to meet his eyes. 

He finally speaks out of the heavy silence. 

“My expectations are simple. First, that you will be obedient and respectful. I will not tolerate disruptive behavior.” 

You barely— just barely— restrain yourself from interrupting him to ask for a precise definition of disruptive. 

“Second, when we are alone, you are not to cover your face.”

You realize the pause he leaves is a prompt for you to obey this rule. You sweep your veil back and pout at him, annoyed more so about being told what to do than the rule itself. 

“Of course, you could also do away with it altogether, if you wish.” 

“But I— I can’t!” The mere suggestion of it is scandalous, and coming from a Grand Admiral, no less. 

He only gives you a dispassionate look, then directs your attention to the dining  area where breakfast is laid out. The same two droids that had served dinner are standing by.

Thrawn pulls out your chair for you, and you accept his courtesy with ill grace. 

“You could even wear different clothing,” he says, taking his own seat across from you. “The robes are beautiful, but impractical. Especially on a starship.”

You consider this for a moment, then tell him, “I’ve been wearing them for a year and I still trip on them pretty often.” 

The droids move in, pouring drinks-- juice, water, caf-- though you wish you could ask for tea. When you reach for some jam, somehow your veil falls down over your shoulder, making you accidentally dip your sleeve in the caf creamer. You swear quietly, trying to sponge the light blue liquid out of the fabric.

“Why do you think I’ve set this rule?” He asks. 

It takes you a moment— another one of his non- rhetorical questions, and a confusing non-sequitur until you recall the earlier thread of conversation. A quirk of his mind, perhaps, that you’ll have to get used to. “Assassins!” You blurt out, almost knocking your toast to the floor. 

Looking pleased, or perhaps amused, he sits back in his chair with a nod and goes back to whatever he was doing on his datapad.  One of the serving droids pours him a cup of caf without him gesturing for it, though he doesn’t touch it.

Between bites, and not caring that you’re interrupting his work, you ask why, if he’s so concerned about attempts on his life, he has you staying in his quarters, sleeping in his bed, taking meals with him.

“What if I’m the assassin?” You challenge. 

“Are you?”

“No,” you say petulantly.

“I have explained and believe you understand the consequences of such an action. Have I overestimated your mental faculties?”

“No.”

“Do you intend to kill me?” 

You frown at him. “I could be past reasoning.” Might try, you leave unsaid. 

“And how would that benefit you, in the long run? What do you envision as the outcome?” He makes it sound more like an invitation for a thought exercise than a threat. 

So you pause to consider. “Well, if I made it past intent, and actually tried, I’d probably have to surprise you. If I failed, and you could tie it to me, I’d probably get the rest of my life breaking scrap in the Aamiqh Deeps  if I’m lucky. Or you’d just vent me out the closest airlock.” 

“An efficient solution,” he says, and you look at him sharply, wondering if you mistook that dry tone for sarcasm. “How would you attempt it?”

“Attempt it after this conversation, or before?”

The corners of his mouth twitch, a small smile, and you feel absurdly pleased at that reaction. “Let us keep things simple for now. Before.”

You wrack your brain for what little you’ve been able to observe about him so far. It hasn’t even been a full day. Any habits that could be exploited, parts of his daily routine you could slip into unnoticed. You have yet to see him eat, drink, or sleep, and at this point, no matter how near-human he looks, have no reason to assume he actually needs rest or sustenance the way you do. Sex, then? 

You begin speaking all this aloud, and he nods or comments at particular lines of reasoning. “It would be best if I could wait longer, make more observations.” Part of you can’t quite believe you’re saying all this to him-- and in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably foolish, and could be taken as evidence of intent to harm him, but he already holds all the power anyway. “But if I couldn’t, or found out that none of the obvious things would work--”

“Those being?”

“Poison in your food or drink. Or get you while you’re sleeping. I couldn’t even be sure that what works on humans would work on you. I guess maybe I could--” you stop yourself, feeling silly for playing along with all this, but he urges you to continue.

“Go on.” He sounds entertained and intrigued.

You take a bite of your food, which has gone cold. “Med bay. Could be a way to access your records. I don’t even know what species you are. And there would be medications in there, if I did figure out something that would work.”

“And if not?”   

You tilt your head, gazing out at the serene, beautiful starscape. If you had thought there was even a chance that he would allow you to have embroidery supplies-- well, there would be no way he’d let you possess needles after this conversation. “There must be someone on the ship who doesn’t like you. Maybe even someone relatively high up?” You look back at him, taking in the striking sight of him: his gleaming red eyes, keen and alert and fixed on you, and his sharply handsome features and dark hair, his perfect uniform and heavy rank plaque that seem made to fit him and only him. You hesitate on your next thought. It would be hurtful. “Someone who doesn’t like that you’re…”

“Non-human,” Thrawn says. 

You nod, not willing to cross the line and ask him why he serves an Empire that, by law and creed, considers him inferior. “I think it would be easy to take advantage of. People who think like that can be… single-minded. They wouldn’t like that you’re more successful than them.”

“Perhaps,” he allows. 

“That could also solve the issue of getting off the ship, after I… you know.” You shift uncomfortably. It’s a strange thing. You had always thought, the whole year on Coruscant, that upon meeting whoever you ended up with, you’d want them dead. 

Thrawn is not what you expected.

You squeeze your thighs together, trying very much not to think about how he had looked at you last night, how it had felt with his singular, searing focus on you, how he had sounded when he’d felt you almost lose control.

He regards you intently, letting you squirm, before he finally answers. “A clever thought. Yes, there are certainly those who resent being under my command.”

“Were you trying to get me to convince myself that trying anything is a bad idea?”

“No.” His expression softens just a little, so briefly you might have imagined it. “I simply wished to hear you reason through a problem.” 

He lets you be, then, no further incisive, testing questions. He returns to his datapad, and you sip idly at your caf, watching distant ships and stars through the viewport.

Exactly at 06:21, he stands and indicates for you to come with him— finished with breakfast or not. 

“Keep up,” he says mildly, when he sees you dawdling. “Or you will find yourself on a leash.”

☆ link to part 6 ☆

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[blueberryinko]

Juicy Labour

A story done for the great @gimmeabigpush who I’m very grateful for for letting me use her midwife OC, Sara and her spouse, Syd.

~

Sara waddled towards the living room. The twins were sitting in a good position, though with them being right against her pelvis, it made her back ache some. Her partner, Syd was nearby, playing with Sloane. Sara was a couple days away from giving birth, and they needed to discuss their birth plan.

“Hey honey.” Sara murmured, sitting herself on the sofa with a sigh. She felt like a balloon, her stomach tight and heavy with the twins. Syd let Sloane play on the carpet, joining Sara at her elevation. “You feeling alright?” They asked her, concern etched on their features. “Yeah, just had to pee for the eleventh time today.”

Syd chuckled. “You’ve dealt with a lot more than that babe.” They remembered the various predicaments with Sara’s previous pregnancy, and while she wouldn’t have changed anything, she would sure have liked it a little easier.

“We need to talk about the birth plan.” She told Syd, who agreed with her. “So, another home birth like we discussed?” They confirmed with Sara, who was checking her bag for everything they might need, pads, fluids and other things. They’d prepped the nursery two months earlier, thank God, and were ready for their new arrivals. “Yep, and we have the other midwives on speed dial.”

Syd seemed cautious about something, which Sara noticed. It wasn’t like them, so she gave them a quick but gentle prod to the thigh. ��Hey, what’s up?” She noticed Syd’s cheeks flushing rose, and she wondered what they could possibly be thinking about. “Sorry hon, it’s silly, don’t worry about it.” They reassured her, but Sara was insistent. “We don’t have secrets, remember? You can speak your mind around me.”

“I know. I was just wondering something the other day. We watched that old Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie, right?” Sara wondered where they were going with this, but concentrated as Syd continued. “When we got to the Inventing Room and the whole blueberry thing happened to the girl, you said “That’s me on the way to the Delivery Room.” And I, well..” Sara was starting to understand where their mind was, snuggling closer. “Yeah?”

“I have a thing for it.” Syd admitted. “Not the scene like that, but the thought of you swelling up like that. I did some looking around on the internet, and Walmart does a gum just like it.” Sara thought of herself like that, big, blue and round. She’d imagine she looked ridiculous, but something about the way Syd said it stirred something in her.

“Okay, do we know if it’s safe for pregnant women to have?” She asked. Syd scratched their head. “I had a glance at some of the reviews, and they said it was mostly safe, but if you want more research I’m open to it?” The hope in Syd’s voice had Sara wanting to fulfil this desire, and she leaned over them, getting the laptop.

After browsing for around twenty minutes, Sara hummed. “All the studies say it’s good to go for pregnant women, there’s even a doctor here that says the usage of it is even beneficial in labour.” She remarked, impressed by the findings. The twins kicked, movement showing atop her shirt. “Seems they agree too.” She joked. Syd’s face was so much brighter now, and Sara made sure to memorise it. She loved when they were as happy as this.

“Alright, so changes to the plan then. I’ll go and get the gum tomorrow, and then when I go into labour, Sloane goes around the neighbours’, yeah?” Sara planned out. She was going to make these little ones’ entrance into the world special. Syd wiped a stray tear, kissing her cheek. “I love that idea.” They enthused. Sara once again let herself fade into a fantasy of herself as a blueberry again for one more moment, and knew she wanted to do it.

~

She’d purchased the gum. It had been sitting in her pantry for the last two days when Sara felt the first proper twinges of labour. “Babe,” She signalled to Syd, who gave her a look. “Yeah, go time.” She said at their look. Syd kissed her cheek, and Sara gave them a slightly pained smile. “Go take Sloane around next-door, and I’ll prep the gum, yeah?” Syd hugged her, rubbing her bump. “You got this, okay? And if you wanna back out at any point, tell me.” With Sara’s promise in mind, Syd took Sloane next-door.

Sara felt hot, sweat beading at her chest. Looking down at her clothes, her top and shapewear leggings, she wasn’t sure they’d survive the expansion, choosing to strip down to her underwear. Her jeans were a small struggle, but eventually they were off, and she padded to the pantry, retrieving the gum.

“Expansion will be slow-acting, pumping recommended for pregnant consumers…” She read carefully. “If needed, call Oompa Retrieval Team for emergency assistance- really, they exist?” Sara blinked, chuckling to herself. One of the twins shifted minutely, and she groaned. “Ouch, you!” She murmured. “You’re gonna be a boxer when you’re older, aren’t you?”

She moved back to the living room. She’d read there would be quite a large amount of leakage, so they’d made sure to move the rug and replace it with a plastic covering. And if needed there was the pool set up in the other room.

Syd returned from the neighbours, practically vibrating with anticipation. “Everything good?” They asked, their pink dress fitting their form snugly. Sara liked that one very much, “Everything is perfect.” She replied. Syd beamed, giving her another tight hug, kissing her enthusiastically. “You’re amazing…” They breathed, marvelling at their wife. Sara smirked, “I know,” she joked. Unwrapping the gum, she felt a slow contraction roll through her. “Here we go.”

Popping the gum in her mouth, it took a moment for the flavour to hit, but it really did a moment later. “Oh, wow!” She murmured, swallowing a mouthful of juice. “It really is blueberry! I know that sounds dumb, but that’s a lot!” She giggled, feeling a little fuzzy around her body. Syd’s jaw dropped slightly, and Sara wondered what they saw. “C’mon, how do I look?” She asked, slightly nervous.

“Your nose is turning blue…” Syd’s awed tone made her blush, and she checked her reflection. Well, she was more blushing purple now anyway. Indeed it was, her belly also gaining a plush cobalt hue, spreading slowly up her body. A light pulse ran through her, not painful in the slightest. “Syd.. I think that was another contraction, but..” She placed a hand to her belly, testing it gingerly. “It wasn’t painful..” She stood there, watching as the blue tint painted itself over her entire body, looking like an alien when she checked herself in the mirror. Even her eyes had turned violet.

“That’s amazing!” Syd was fascinated. Here was their wife, swelling up for them while in active labour, and she looked like a goddess. “It must have some form of epidural effect.” Sara sat on the couch, a little surprised when her ass hit the fabric a couple seconds before she expected it to. “My ass is getting bigger too!” She commented, poking the plush cheeks. She’d had wide hips before, but now that her butt was starting to outgrow her underwear, they were even wider than before.

Syd sat on the couch with her, rubbing her belly as they dipped two fingers into her panties, checking her dilation. “A centimetre. We have a while yet.” They guessed, and Sara huffed, laying back as her stomach distended further. “Feels like Thanksgiving dinner..” She rubbed her belly as the twins shifted again. She wasn’t certain, but she thought she might feel her womb expanding too, giving the babies more space. “Oh, babies..” She rubbed her hips, her shoulders getting chubbier. “How does it feel?” Syd was curious, in awe as they patted Sara’s tummy, watching as their hands got further apart as she grew.

“Like.. like I’m really stuffed, but all around..” Sara was surprised at how pleasant it felt. “Like I’m in a hot tub, but the hot tub is me…’ She heard gentle sloshing from her body and sighed, the couch creaking below her. Wet spots appeared on her bra, purple and sticky. “O-oh! I’m.. lactating juice?” She shouldn’t be surprised, the reviews had told her that online, but all it felt was similar to letting down milk. “Syd, help me get my bra off?” She requested. Syd slowly eased Sara forward, taking note of the juice starting to fill her back muscles. “Almost there Sare-bear.” Syd comforted, popping off Sara’s bra with a quick unlatching of the pin.

“Oh! That felt so much better,” Sara let out a breathy moan, a hand going to her back. A dull contraction rippled through her again, and she breathed deep. “Ooh..” Syd came around her front again and kissed her. They both looked down at her breasts, noticing her leakage. “Well, it’s not juice, it’s more.. blueberry milk?” Syd commented. Sara laughed at the absurdity of the situation, poking her boob. She gasped at the sensitivity, another spurt of milk releasing from her nipple. “That feels so weird. It’s like I’m pumping but it’s doing it all on its own.”

“You’re amazing, mama.” Syd got down on their knees, massaging spots on Sara’s belly that were becoming supple and taut. “How are you feeling? Want me to check again?” Sara cooed, her biceps becoming slightly stiff as they billowed with juice. “Feeling good, feeling.. oohhhh…” A slower, powerful ripple coursed through her body, a low, primal moan escaping her lips. “So plump.. check me again.” She said. “This baby’s impatient.” Syd angled Sara back. Her belly was big enough that it looked as if she were carrying quintuplets instead of twins, and they had to dive a little underneath to check.

“Two centimetres hon. You’re doing great.” Syd emerged from around her belly, and Sara whined. “I wish it was going faster.” Syd chuckled. “I know hon, but you can’t rush, remember? Take your time, you’re running this whole thing.” Sara nodded, feeling impatient. “I know, I know.”

Sara felt her hips widening and slid her thighs outward, her hands digging under blue, fruity flesh to separate them, groaning. “Could-could you get the birthing ball hon?” She asked Syd, who was more than happy to oblige. They ran off for one moment. She could feel leakage from below, but this was different. It definitely wasn’t amniotic fluid, instead it felt sticky and.. juicy? “H-huh.” She was leaking from both zones. She probably should have expected that.

Syd returned soon after, and Sara attempted to get up from the couch. A literal ton of juice kept her from doing so, pinning her to the cushions. “Oh Jesus!” She huffed, her body jiggling and wobbling. “Syd, h-help again…” She felt like she was making so many demands of them, but Syd was more than happy to help. They grabbed her arms, beginning to lift her off the couch. “Okay, we’ll make it like a pendulum, yeah? Back,” They rocked her back into the couch, then pulled her forward again. “Forward.” She went forward, lifting a little off the couch.

“Back,” Syd coached as Sara was heaved back onto the couch, and like a swing Syd then used the bloated flesh of her back to bounce her off the coach, falling forward into their chest. “Forward!” They groaned as she stumbled, her cervix stretching wider as Sara lost balance. “Whoa, shit!” She squealed, though Syd’s sturdy arms wrapped around her fluffy, juice-ballooned tummy, feet driven into the rug to keep her from falling over. “You’re okay, you’re alright.” They comforted as Sara moaned.

“Feels.. feels good, feels really.. really low…” Sara was sweating, but every contraction that rumbled through her felt like a weird form of watery massage, dropping the babies further down into her pelvis. Her thighs were being absorbed into her juicy, expanding form. “C-can you.. please?” She waggled her hand, pointing around her hip vaguely towards her underside. “Yeah, sure baby,” Syd murmured. To hold her upright, one of their hands stayed wrapped around her torso, the other holding up her underbelly as they kneeled underneath her.

Moving their supporting hand, they used their fingers to check Sara’s cervix. “Okay hon, four centimetres!” They shouted up to her. “You’re doing so freaking amazing, you know that?” They encouraged her as Syd rose back up. “I think we need to set you on your belly, you’re gonna fall over at some point, or you’re gonna end up literally on your crotch.” They told her. Sara was so big, so pregnant, so berried up it took a lot to even move. Her shoulders, biceps were long gone, and she was left with her tiny forearms waggling as her calves started to buckle.

“O-okay baby, you got me?”

“I got you,” Syd confirmed, and slowly, very carefully, they lowered Sara onto her belly. “How’re you feeling?” They asked her. Sara cooed. “Big.. just.. very.. very big.” Syd chuckled, massaging the taut spots where her skin had gone firm. “You look it, no offense.” They joked. “None taken,” Sara assured, knowing how accurate Syd’s observation was. Her limbs swelled to vanishing point, swallowed up by her turgid expanse as her hands and feet settled into divots, her womanhood filling out and finishing the transformation. “Hoooohhhh..” She huffed, her eyes rolling back in her head a moment.

“Fuck, feels good…” Sara bit her lip, her toes curling at the sensation of hundreds of gallons of juice crashing around inside her. The first baby was right there, wanting out and yet Sara could still feel she wasn’t dilated enough. Syd stayed around her front for a few minutes, rubbing her breasts, which sat on the floor leaking into the plastic cover. “Yeah? Our babies?” They asked, their fingers pressing into her plush, taunt sides and making her moan. “F-first one is literally right there.. need opened up…” Sara explained, a pleasant contraction rolling through her like she’d swallowed an ice cube.

Syd thought for a moment, before coming to a conclusion. “Okay hon, I’m gonna put you on your feet, yeah? I’m gonna see if we can get you waddling for a bit, how about that?” Sara wondered if she’d even be able to waddle at this point, her feet were so far apart and so immobile as she currently was she failed to see how she’d move even a couple steps.

Syd’s hands went to her breasts again, and began to lift them. They had to dig their feet in to get Sara rolling upwards, and as she felt her toes touch the floor, Syd moved their grip to her belly, pressing down as gently as they could, and with as much force as they could muster, helped Sara’s give move backwards, and the juice inside her finally displaced, putting her back on her feet. Sara gasped, feeling the balls of her feet finally back on solid ground and marvelled at the feeling of so much weight shared in all areas of her circumference.

“O-okay, starting to waddle now.” Her belly was most certainly leading the way. It was almost like pre-transformation, but instead of her legs going to either side of her belly, it was her feet having to literally hop and rotate her entire body a step forward, then rotating her body again and landing the other foot that other step forward. She got the hang of it, but the weight of the tons of juice inside her meant she was sweating juice by the bucketload, and as she moved around the tarp, she felt her cervix widening.

“Syd, Syd, Syd, oh.. God, it’s working..” She was in ecstasy, the epidural effect of the juice making the experience practically painless. She was already getting tired of waddling, and she felt so much pressure in her labia. “Back on my belly, back on my belly..” She urged. Syd was quick to move around her back area, and Sara stopped waddling, letting Syd roll her back onto her belly. The gravity had helped, and as she felt Syd’s fingers dip into her folds, she gasped.

“Nine centimetres, you’re so close!” Syd congratulated. Sara felt powerful, she was as big as a small smart car, and just as wide, and yet she’d never felt more alive. “Almost there!” She replied, breathing in rhythm as she flapped her hands in their divots. She got an idea, trying her best to rock the juices around inside her.

Slosh, churn, gurgle.

Her body was loud, and yet serene. Her body rocked like a cradle, and Sara felt her cervix widen once again. “Oh my God, I’m gonna push!” She exclaimed, already bearing down. Syd was in position, and watched as Sara began birthing their second baby. “Here we go hon, I’m right here.” They coached her. Sara remembered all the other births she’d attended, remembering her own teachings. “Feels decent, feels like a bowling ball inside me.” She stated, sweat beading her forehead.

“Mama bowling ball and baby bowling ball, huh?” Syd joked. Sara giggled, she must look absolutely ridiculous. Another contraction rippled through her, and she bore down, setting her jaw. She felt something happening down below, and gasped, realising what it was. “S-Sara.. you’re crowning..” Syd felt their jaw drop, watching as the head began to emerge.

“Y-yup, I feel them!” Sara was very well aware of it, but this time it felt bizarre. Last time she gave birth, it’d felt like a ring of fire, like all the stories, but this felt more like pushing out an air bubble, in a strange way. She dripped juice from her folds, and Syd massaged her pubic mound, a slow v-motion making sure the baby was comfortable as it began slipping out. “How’re we doing back there?” She asked. Syd called back over in a joyful tone. “So well Sara, c’mon honey, you got this!”

She stayed right where she was, not that she could move of course. She felt her pelvis shifting, her feet curling as her entire body tightened. It was like she had been plump and taut, now she was as hard as steel, her entire body focused on getting the baby out of her. “Low sounds, c’mon.” Syd coached, and Sara groaned. “Out of me, c’mon baby!” She urged, pushing down. Her lips bulged, and she felt the baby right there, right at her entrance. “Come OOON!” She shouted, and she felt the baby’s head leave her with a gush of juice.

She heard a loud cry, and let out a sob of relief of her own, beginning to tear up in earnest as she pushed the rest of their body out. “And there’s one!” Syd announced as they carefully cut the cord, helping Sara to push the remainder out. Once they were certain everything had been safely extracted, Syd brought their second child around to Sara’s front.

“Oh, hello baby!” Sara gasped, setting eyes on their baby. “Hello Vee!” She watched as Syd took the baby to their crib, cleaning them off and making sure they were settled in their basin. Now it was time for the twin.

Sara felt different with this one though. The second baby was being stubborn and slow. Syd returned to her in no time, and watched her brow furrow. “Hey, hey, what’s up?” They questioned, concerned. Sara whined. “They’re not coming fast enough,” She wept. She wasn’t in any pain, but the pressure of bearing down was getting to be a bit much. Syd grabbed the towel, wetting it with some cold water and pressing it to her forehead. “Hey, hey, every birth is different. And you’ve been a fucking star through this whole thing.” They reassured her.

The hormones were getting to her. “Oh Syd!” She sniffled. “I feel so good, but this is taking so long, I want them here with us..” Syd shushed her gently, putting their forehead to hers. “You got this, you have this all in hand, you know that?” Syd was in awe of their wife and what she had done for them tonight. “You blew up like this all for me, on such short notice. I was sure you’d say no and I would’ve been completely fine with it, but you just stormed right ahead. You’re a freaking legend, Sara, and I’m so lucky to have you.”

Sara bawled, though soon calmed herself, letting out a small hiccup. “A-any ideas for how we can get this moving?” She asked, wondering if some gravity would help. Syd hummed. “I have an idea. Remember how the girl in the movie was rolled around?” Sara let out a wheeze, what else could happen today that they hadn’t thought of already? “Alright honey, just be delicate, please?” She requested.

Since she was already on her belly, Syd meandered around to Sara’s side, their hands going to her sensitive skin. She cooed, another contraction rumbling through her. “Hooohh…nnnnfff…” The strange pressure felt like a water balloon in her gut, and she breathed through it. Syd stopped. “You sure about this?” They checked with her, to which Sara nodded. “I’m sure, roll me.”

Syd’s hands on her felt weird as her weight gave, and her vision began to spin. The juice spinning inside her was colossal in both motion and sound, being rolled around the living room in circular direction. “Whoa..” She gasped, flapping her hands. The vertigo was unreal, and she listened to the churning and gurgling emanating from her innards. “It’s like I’m a beer keg.” She felt the comparison was apt, and Syd chuckled.

“You wouldn’t be out of place in a Venusian wine cellar then.” They joked. Sara giggled, and then went quiet as another contraction pulsed. It ached a little, but she was handling it. “Alright, alright, alright.” She huffed, balling her fists. “Put me on my lower belly please hon.” She stated. The doorbell rang, and Syd quickly set Sara on the tarp before attending to the door.

They came back a moment later with three bags of McDonalds, to Sara’s confusion. “The neighbours ordered dinner for us again. We’ll pay them back for everything, right?” They asked her. Sara felt tears dripping down her cheeks again, nodding furiously. “How is Sloane?” She asked.

“They’ve been set down for the night, had their food and was very well-behaved.” Syd confirmed. “They’re absolutely fine.” Sara sighed in relief. She missed their eldest baby, and couldn’t wait for them to meet their siblings. “I didn’t tell them about your current state though.” Sara was grateful for that, despite liking her new form, she wasn’t sure it was something she wanted to share yet, maybe ever. “Thanks babe. Thank you for being so good with me.”

“Of course, you don’t need to ever thank me just for helping you.” Syd said. “You’re running this so well, and our next little one is almost here. Just a little longer huh?” Sara nodded, breathing. Soon, she felt the next head pressing at her labia. “Oh, shit, here they come.” It was like the head suddenly slid into place, and she cocked her head. “Okay Syd, that rolling around dislodged them, I think. I’m ready.” Syd nodded, heading around Sara’s underside.

Working her feet in their divots, Sara attempted as best she could to widen her stance. Her body was vibrating, shaking. “Nnnfff come on baby!” She encouraged. “Just come down, come to Mama and Bibi..” She bore down again, and felt her lips bulge. “That’s it Sara, come on.” Syd murmured. Sara blew air out through her cheeks, puffing them out. “D-do we have some noise? L-like ocean noises or something?” Syd hummed. “I think I’ve got a meditation playlist, hang on.”

Syd grabbed their phone from the sofa, opening Spotify. “Rain noises?” They asked. Sara nodded. The soothing sounds of a thunderstorm soon filled the room, and as evening began to set in the windows, the lights came on. Sara pushed again. She was exhausted, but she knew beyond a doubt she could do this. “Come on Supermom..” She joked, feeling a sense of power flooding her form. She growled, bearing down as the head bulged her lips.

Syd worked her linea viola, feeling the movements coming from her womb. “They’re in a good position, head-first, shoulders right there.” They confirmed. Sara moaned at their touch, continuing her routine. “Burger please?” She requested. She had been fed all her fries already, but she was saving the burger for now. Syd fetched it for her after washing their hands, feeding her. “They’re right there.” She muffled through her chewing, nuzzling against Syd’s cheek. “So close…”

“I know babe, I know. You’re so strong, just focus on me and my voice.” Syd was enamored with their wife’s body, her pushing and the low, primal noises, guttural and straight from the throat as she pushed. As Sara finished off her burger, Syd slipped back around her undercarriage, ready to help with the baby.

Sara moaned again, determined. The baby began bulging out of her lips, and she let out a frustrated yell. “I can do this, c’mon!” She even balled her fists, pulling them further into her body and sucking in her feet like that would help. It was actually doing so, the pressure being focused downwards into her birth canal. “Rrraaaaarrrgh!” She yelled, and with a pop and a gush of fluids, the baby’s head emerged from her body.

“Oh!” She yelped, a sudden pang of ecstasy making arousal flood her entire body. She felt Syd latch onto the baby as it kept emerging. Every slight push got the shoulders further out, and she was progressing quickly, looking like it was ready to tumble right out. “Oh my God, that’s fast!” She gasped. Syd was making sure the baby was all good, noting no cord yet, which was a good sign. “Yep, but fast is good, you’re doing great.”

Sara hummed, bearing down yet again with a mighty heave, her body bucking gently as she pushed. “Okay, okay, got it got it got it!” She groaned, the shoulders emerging and then the torso. One last push had to do it, right? “Come on Sara, you’re so nearly done!” With those final words of encouragement from Syd, Sara’s brow furrowed, and she yelled. “Come on come OONN!” She yelled, and with a final burst of fluids and blueberry juice, the final baby tumbled right into Syd’s hands.

“Sara, you did it! Our little Bree is here!” Syd crowed, and both parents burst into tears yet again. While Syd cleaned up the baby, Sara pushed out the final bits of afterbirth, the cord having been cut cleanly just minutes before. She grunted and groaned, liquid gushing from her vagina and dripping down her belly. The tarp she’d been positioned on through the whole of her labour was undoubtedly ruined, soaked with blueberry juice. She was exhausted, and yet so proud of herself.

Syd opened the window. “The twins are here!” They announced, the whole street hollering and whooping with a loud cheer from the neighbours. Sara laid there on her belly, still round. “So, when does this die down?” Syd approached her again, rubbing her sides. “In a day or so, or we could pump it out of you tomorrow. Which one would you prefer?”

“Ehh.. wait a day or so.. I’m shattered.” Sara yawned. It had taken an entire day for the twins to arrive, but now they were finally here. “Yeah? I’ll leave you to it. You did it!” Syd cheered, kissing her cheek. “Just go to sleep, yeah? I’ll handle the babies from here.”

Sara was more than happy to go to sleep, content in her new motherhood. Tomorrow they’d figure out which way they wanted to juice her, for now, she was knackered. Her eyelids shut, the cries of the babies fresh in her mind as a soft smile settled on her face.

[seiyasabi]

A Shifter’s Dream

(This is a Yandere Bunny-Shifter N’Doul x Female Reader story :P Plz proceed w caution 

TW: !Noncon!, breeding kink!, hella cum!, he holds you down onto the mattress!, kinda sus bc u just turned 18, he deadass bites you, !pees on u in rabbit form, mounting!, mentions of euthanization of animals at the beginning!, etc..)

“-Mama, Mama!” Your voice echoes throughout the kitchen, as you hurry inside, hands clutching something protectively. Your mother turns, startled by your sudden appearance and anxious sounding voice. 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen? Did those neighbourhood boys bully you again?” Ever the mother hen, she frets over you, grabbing you gently by the shoulders and taking a good look at you. 

Shaking your head, you lift your hands, showing the older woman a taupe coloured rabbit, “Look! Mrs. Ruitz next door is selling bunnies! She says this one is blind, so she hasn’t sold it, so she said she’d give him to me if you say yes! Please, please, please say yes! She said she’d put him down if he wasn’t sold,” Tears bead your eyes as you practically beg your mother, who doesn’t seem to have the heart to tell you ‘no’ at that moment. 

She sighs, weighing her options. You’re already ten, so you should be able to take care of him with minimal effort on her part… 

“I suppose that’s alright. You just have to promise me that you’ll take care of him!” You instantly perk up, a bright smile on your face. 

“I promise! I promise!” You hold the bun closer to your chest, practically rocking it in the process, “Thank you, Mama!” 

The older woman smiles once more, patting you goodnaturedly on the back, “Good. Now, let’s go talk to Mrs. Ruitz- we have no idea how to take care of it.” 

Walking across the street, your mother and your neighbour talk about your bunny’s proper care. It turns out, your bun is a male, who is previously named N’Doul. Not wanting to confuse the bunny, you decided to keep his unusual name, chattering away happily to him as you sat in the grass, barely listening to his care requirements. 

The bun listens intently to what you’re saying, relishing your gentle hold around him. 

He must be lucky, he thinks, to have found someone as lovely as you for a mate. 

-

Eight years later, and you and your bun are still going strong. You’d recently moved into your own apartment, trying out adult life as you start college. 

Today is your birthday, officially making you an adult. 

The day was filled with festivities: your mom made you your favourite breakfast in bed (scaring you half to death- apparently she has a copy of your apartment key), your friends took you out shopping, and your mom took you to a birthday dinner. All in all, it was a great day! 

But, a certain bun was seemingly more excited than you were for your birthday, because he seemingly peed himself in excitement the moment you picked him up. Lightly scolding him, you set him down on his rabbit bed that you made him, “‘Doul, what the heck man!” You laugh a little, remembering back to when he was but a teeny kit, “You’re not a baby anymore, bubs, you can’t just pee on me!” The bun is surprisingly smart, allowing you to let him mosy around your house (now your own apartment that you saved up for for years). After he figures out the layout, he’s able to figure out where his pee pad is, along with his grass bed, actual bed, and food/drink area. He is also able to hear where you are, allowing him to cutely hop after you if you’re not already carrying him. 

Going to the bathroom to wash your hands, you hear his barely audible pawsteps behind you, “It’s okay, ‘Doul, I’m just gonna clean myself off, okay?” Flipping on your faucet, you get your hands nice and wet, before you pump some soap onto your hands, and start scrubbing, “Maybe I should shower now, since I’m already here…” You trail off when you feel you bun settle himself on your foot. 

Glancing down, you catch him just in time, as he starts to hump you. Gasping in surprise, you try to gently shake him off, but that seemingly just gets himself off faster, as you feel a foreign wetness against your skin, “What the fuck? Are you serious, N’Doul?!” Annoyed with the way he’s suddenly acting, once you finish washing your hands, you reach down, and scoop the bun up, “That’s not cool, bro. Because of that, you can wait in my room while I shower.” 

Plopping him in his bunny bed, you turn on your heel, and hurry back into the bathroom, closing the door before he can follow you inside. 

-

Stepping out of your shower, you wrap yourself securely with your plush towel. Not bothering to wipe off the steam from your mirror, you bust out of the bathroom, only to be greeted with your now empty room. The door leading to the hallway is wide open, and your bunny is nowhere to be seen. Completely stupefied, you have no idea how to respond. Did the bun hop up high enough to hit the handle? That should be impossible! A Holland Lop is big, but not that big! 

“N’Doul? Bun? Where on Earth did you go?” Deeming your bunny’s safety higher than you changing into clothing, you quickly move out of your room clad in only your towel. 

You go room by room, searching frantically for your beloved pet. He has to be here somewhere! 

So, when you finally make it to your living room/kitchen, you let out a yell of fear. There, on your couch, is a naked, bunny eared, buff man who’s humping into your previously used panties, “Who the hell are you! Get the fuck out of my house!” Reaching for the baseball bat in the hallway, you hold it up with one hand threateningly, the other currently holding your towel. 

A deep, rumbling laugh is heard from the mysterious man, who then tosses aside your soiled panties, “Don't be like that, Love. Your N’Doul only getting myself ready for you.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about? And what did you do with my bunny?” He chuckles, relishing your cute reaction. 

“I’m your bunny, (Your Name). I’m N’Doul.”

“The hell you are! Get out, before I bash your skull in!” He stands to his feet, completely towering over you. Gulping in fear, you move backwards, but then you notice his eyes. They’re the same milky white your bun has, “I-I’m warning you! Stay away from me, you creep!” 

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, showing how large his hands are compared to yours, “I’m not going to hurt you- I wouldn’t be a good mate if I did.” 

Without thinking, you chuck your baseball bat at his bunny-eared head, before turning and running to your room. You hear the metal bat make contact, along with a yelp of pain. Locking your door behind you, you search your room for your car keys. Not long after you dump out your purse in pursuit of your keys, you hear loud footsteps thumping towards you. 

A loud bang echoes throughout the room, as the man’s hit practically shakes the foundation of the wall, “Open the door, (Your Name)! Open it right now!” He sounds angry, and when you don’t respond fast enough, he starts trying to break down the door, his muscled body practically bending the thin wood with each body slam. 

Screaming in fear, you start to cry. Thick tears drip down your face, as you plead with him to stop, “I-I don’t want to! Get out of my house!” 

With one last mighty slam, the humanized N’Doul breaks into your bedroom. His nose is bleeding from the bat hitting him in the face, but other than that, he’s completely unscathed. Hearing you cry, he immediately goes to shush you, “Don’t cry, Love. Now that you’re considered an adult in your species, we can finally begin our life together.”

To his chagrin, you continue to sob, completely scared out of your mind, “No! Get out! Stop pretending to be my bunny, it’s weird!” He approaches you slowly, his much bigger form slightly bumping into a few pieces of furniture. This gives you enough time to make a break for it. 

You try to round his form, almost making it to what’s left of your bedroom door, only to be stopped by a meaty arm practically slamming you onto your bed. Trying to get up, you quickly realise that escape is impossible, as his muscular legs practically trap you against your mattress. He uses his weight to hold you down, as he bites into your neck, trying to make you submit. 

“Shh, stop resisting me, my Love. I promise that I’ll take care of you for the rest of our lives,” He continues to bite at you, as your screams are muffled into your sheets. 

His large hands rip your towel off of you, exposing your slightly wet body to his prying fingers. The rough pads of his fingers rub at your erect nipples and unprepared slit, trying to get you as wet as possible. 

“You’ll be a wonderful mother, I can tell you were made for this,” His cock head bumps against your tight entrance, forcing itself in as you scream. 

He starts a breakneck pace almost immediately, relishing how your walls massage him so sinfully- as if you were made for only him, his inexperienced fingers rub at your clit harshly, trying to make this as pleasurable for you as possible, 

Whilst this was happening, a bolt of pure pleasure shot up your spine, as he hit a certain gummy patch in your pussy, causing you to gush uncontrollably. Loud keens escape your gaping mouth, as his harsh ministrations are enough to almost make you cum immediately. 

“Fuck, your body accepts me so perfectly, Love. It’s like it knows I’m going to pump you full of kits,” He lightly slaps at your clit, causing you to seize up in orgasm, quickly throwing him over the edge as well. Hot, virile cum overflows your womb, his swimmers quickly inseminating you. But it’s not enough. N’Doul, moments after orgasm, bucks into you even harsher than before, wanting to push as much of his cum as possible inside of you, “My perfect mate, I love you so much! I knew you were the one for me from the first time I met you! Only the love of my life would accept me even with my blindness!” 

Still sensitive from before, the both of you hustle over the edge in mere moments, your release squirting all over the both of you. 

“We’re not stopping until I know that you're pregnant, my love. Our wonderful kits are such a good birthday present, no?”

[ask-a-vetblr]

I'm at my wit's end so I was hoping to get some more perspectives and insights from multiple vetblrs. FTR: I have already asked my vet and she seems to think nothing is wrong with my cat and it's all behavioural, but I've tried everything that is recommended and thensome to try to make this stop and have no clue where to go from here. So I have a senior cat, she has been pooping on the floor in front of the box, or around the box - just, near the box - for several months now. I have multiple litter boxes and she wants just this one area to poop in, just this one box. I have tried feliway and other calming diffusers, I have tried a calming attachment to her collar, I have tried calming litter, (I have used the same litter for long before this but the calming litter is the same brand but since that was out of supply for a while it's been back to the usual), I have multiple boxes in separate places, I have tried using deterrent? and enzyme sprays (Nature's Miracle brands) on the floors, I have tried a lower litter box, I have tried putting as many litter boxes in the location as possible too, I have given up on the litter and am going to another she's known before, I have tried taking away the kittens she didn't like (but brought them back when it didn't cause any changes), I have tried otc painkillers just in case, she does it even right after I've cleaned a box (like as in once I left the room!), if I move the box she just poops outside of it wherever it is now, aaand now she's also suddenly peeing in the same spot too, and I straight up don't get it. I've taken to just putting down puppy pads for the sake of my sanity, but I can't just keep buying pads, especially if she's peeing and soaking the underside of the litter mat while I'm at work Is there ANYTHING else behaviour wise that I haven't tried? There's been no radical changes to... anything in the house. These aren't new boxes to her either. I can't find anything else on google so I hoped y'all might know some other tricks?

gettingvetted here.

Since your vet is of the opinion that this is behavioral, have you discussed the possibility of anxiety relief with them? Also, there are no safe OTC painkillers for cats, so I’m not sure what you’re referring to there. Once your cat is safely on adequate pain relief and anxiety relief, you can progress to Litterbox Boot Camp.

For some reason, I can’t get the document to play nicely with Tumblr, so unfortunately I’m going to have to copy/paste the document rather than link to a downloadable document. But, here goes:

Litter Box Boot Camp: Behavioral Modification for Inappropriate Elimination

All cats who start using non-litter-box places to eliminate need to be encouraged to use the box as the one, and only, suitable place to go. The best way to do this is to give the cat a very simple, routine life where the only attractive place to eliminate is the litter box.

Create a “studio apartment” for your cat. Start with a large dog crate. These are typically made of thick wire and have a removable plastic tray in the bottom. Place in the crate a litter box with litter, a food and water bowl, and an empty plastic cat carrier (the cat’s bed). This gives the cat a place to eat, drink, sleep and eliminate. It’s no-frills but it provides all the cat’s needs. The cat should stay in this “studio apartment” until he/she has used the litter box consistently with no mistakes for 2 weeks. Each level or phase will last two or more weeks, until the cat has been successful using the box for 2 weeks. If the cat fails, then go back to level one.

Level One: Confined to “studio apartment” unless on a leash or in your arms.

Level Two: Confined to “studio apartment” unless within eyesight in same room with you and only out while you are awake/paying attention.

Level Three: Confined to “studio apartment” unless within the same room, or one room away (but still within eyesight) and only out while you are awake/paying attention.

Level Four: Confined to “studio apartment” unless you are at home and only out while you are awake/paying attention.

Level Five: Confined to “studio apartment” while you are at work or asleep. Loose in house when you are home, even if you are not paying direct attention, and while you run short errands (less than a few hours).

Level Six/regular life: Loose in house at all times even when you are not home for more than a few hours/overnight.

This Boot Camp may seem like it’s a lot to do. However, it really takes less effort than you think, especially when you realize you won’t have to spend a significant time every day cleaning the messes your cat was leaving in your house. Also, Level One is a great time to thoroughly clean places where your cat previously eliminated, and brainstorm ways to keep them from being used again once you reach the next level.

Eliminate attractive places to go: Pick up bathmats and throw rugs. Place clean and dirty laundry in closed closets, baskets with lids, or other inaccessible areas. Use of scatmats and other deterrents can also help keep cats off of places they used to go.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Extracurricular

Warnings: noncon/rape; drinking/drunkenness.

This is a dark! fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (Professor) Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: You go out to unwind from your schoolwork but can’t seem to escape a certain professor’s attention.

Note: Pinched nerve don’t care. I’ve written this as I’m laying on a heating pad and praying for absolution. Hope y’all enjoy because by the time this goes up I’ll be at work and hating life.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Midterms were finally over. It had been a long two weeks; all nighters, energy drinks, and stress headaches. Now you were ready to forget it all in a single night.

Your dress was a little too short and a little too tight. A pink number with large sequins. It looked straight out of the nineties; an appropriate choice for your girls’ night. A downtown club was hosting a ladies night with a retro theme and you felt like the spice girl you’d once idolized. And a little buzzed.

Lexi had invited you along with her roommates, Cece and Rima, to dance off the dread of your results. Study had been half the battle, it was still to see if it had done you any good. In your Twentieth Century Lit class, you were certain you’d fallen on your face. Figuratively, though you had done so literally your first day. It had set a precedent for your apparent cluelessness.

You followed the girls inside after your hand was stamped and the flashing lights mingled with the thumping music and filled your body. You were enlivened by the bodies already dancing and the voice that underlined the melody. A single pre-drink and you were already feeling tomorrow’s hangover.

You joined the chaos of the dance floor as Lexi searched her purse and came out victorious with a handful of bills. “First rounds on me!” She sang, “How about it girls? You ready for more?”

“Holy shit, Lex,” Cece giggled, “Another night with the sugar daddy?”

“Don’t call him that,” Lexi retorted. 

“Well, what would you call him?” Rima countered. “You fuck him, he gives you money.”

“Shut up before I shut you up!’ Lexi whined.

“Hey, both of you,” you warned and grabbed Lexi’s hand, “And stop waving that around.”

“Oh thank youuuu,” she clung to you, “I’ll have a vodka soda.”

“Wha-- no.”

“Do they have whiteclaw?” Rima asked.

“Ew. don’t,” Cece wrinkled her nose, “I’ll have a vodka too.”

“Fine, vodka cran!” Rima nearly hollered. The girls must have started well before you showed up to their dorm.

You huffed and took the fistful of bills. You sidled through the crowd of pairs and groups writhing and waving to the music. Another drink would make you less aware. 

You stepped up to the bar and found yourself nearly bowled over by another patron as she stumbled away with her drink. You knocked the arm of a man leaned against the bar top and turned to apologize.

“Oop, sorry, I didn’t--” You froze and blinked several times in disbelief. The familiar face grinned in recognition. “Professor Drysdale? What are you--”

“I didn’t know it was ladies night,” he spoke over the music, “Had my last exam and thought I’d unwind but--” He looked around. “I didn’t take you for the club type.”

You squirmed as his eyes strayed from your face and you got closer to the bar. “Well, not every night,” you chuckled. 

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he raised his hand and waved to the bartender. “Took me a moment, to be honest.”

“Ahh,” you watched the bartender near and he bent to hear your order. You got yourself a gin after your last sour experience with vodka.

You watched the bartender work, unsure of what to say to your unexpected company. His remark stuck in your head. You often sat in his class in your favourite loose cardigan or a sweat with fraying cuffs. Massachusetts was growing colder by the day and only the alcohol and your lack of a damn kept you warm that night.

“So, I guess you’re here with friends,” he said.

“Yeah, just a few of us.” You said as you rubbed your sweaty fingers on the bills. The bartender pushed your drink across the bar but Professor Drysdale was quicker than you as he held out a fifty.

“My treat.” He said.

“Oh no,” you tried to grab his hand but he waved it at the bartender again. “You don’t need to--”

“Come on. Save your money. You college kids need all you can get,” he insisted.

You smiled awkwardly and carefully took two cups in each hand. You lifted them as he watched you. You peeked over at him and found his eyes glued to you.

“Thank you, professor,” you said.

“Ransom,” he corrected you, “I’m not much of a dancer… but I don’t mind the music. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again.”

“Maybe.” You turned and narrowly missed another collision. 

You followed the maze of bodies back to your group and doled out the drink. Your fingers were left sticky with soda and you took a deep gulp of your own. You tried not to think of the odd encounter with your professor. It wasn’t too unusual you spotted the occasional faculty downtown; students often stuck to the campus bar. Even so, you were surprised at his interest. In class, he barely seemed to recall your name, even if you were the only one who raised your hand. Well, maybe he had also indulged a little too much.

You forgot your paranoia as soon as you finished your drink. You set aside the plastic cup and lost yourself in TLCs greatest hit. You’d regret it in the morning when it mattered.

🥂

After the second drink, came the third, the fourth, and fifth that tasted more like a double. The lights blurred in your vision and the music made your head swell delightfully. 

The night had worn on and as a slow R&B tune came on, you weren’t quite sure what to do. Cece had long ago found a guy to hang off and Rima and Lexi were all too happy to start dancing with each other. You hiccupped and contemplated a break against the wall. 

You were startled as you felt a hand on your back and kept from your retreat.

“Need a partner?” Ransom’s voice flooded into your veins like the alcohol; warm and disorienting. 

“Huh, oh, no, it’s--” You giggled bashfully. “That’s fine.”

“Come on,” he pulled you against him, your back to his front, “Wasn’t too long ago I was out here with all the coeds.”

“Professor--”

“Ransom,” he purred in your ear. “I like this song.”

“I don’t think--”

“Don’t think then,” he said sharply as his arm snaked around you and urged you closer. He leaned in and spoke in your ear. “Seeing your ass in that dress makes me wonder why you ever cover it up.”

“Pr--Ransom, please, I--”

“It’s just a dance, sweetie,” he grinded into you and you felt a twitch in his pants. “Just like that.”

He guided your drunken body against his as his fingers danced along the hem of your dress. The music swept you up as you dizzily surrendered to him. Behind the haze, you knew it was wrong, but you knew you were strong enough to resist. And part of you, didn’t believe your professor was groping you.

“Mmm, you’re so sweet,” he groaned, “That’s it,” he rubbed his crotch against you, “Let me feel that ass.”

“Professor,” you breathed as one his hands caressed your thigh, “You shouldn’t--”

“Wish you dressed like this in class.” He slithered, “Nice little short skirt. You can sit in the front row and give me a little peek.”

“Stop,” you hissed as your vision swam and panic rose in your chest, the gin making you unsteady and uncertain, “Please.”

“Please,” he echoed, “I love to hear you beg me, sweetie.”

“I-I-I--” you stuttered stupidly and finally tore away from him. “I have to pee.”

Your ankle bent in your heel and you hurried past him. You nearly fell as you batted away his hand and fled to the restroom. You stopped by the doorway at the edge of the floor and looked back. Ransom watched you with head tilted and a smirk on his lips, unbothered by the drunk horde around him. You turned and quickly shielded yourself with the door.

You took a breath and ambled forward to stare at yourself in the mirror. Were you that drunk or was your professor really trying to get in your pants?

🥂

When you returned to the girls, Ransom was gone. You didn’t look around for him much, afraid you might find him. You finally tore Cece away from her partner as Lexi began to lean heavily. You took her under the arm and realised that every one of you were a mess. It would be a parade of fools trying to get home.

You got your jackets from the check and went out into the bitter cold. You shivered as you left Lexi to hang off Rima and you swayed as you hailed a cab. A yellow taxi pulled up and you opened the door as you ushered the rest of the girls in. A hand rested beside yours atop the door.

“Looks like there’s no room for you,” Ransom said and you flinched as you looked at him.

“I can get in the front,” you argued weakly.

“Ride with me.” He raised his hand to call another cab, “You don’t wanna overcrowd the car.”

“No, I can--”

“It’s cold!” Cece pulled the door from your grasp and it slammed, nearly knocking you over. “Driver, Western Building on campus.”

“Wait--” The driver pulled away without pause and you stumbled off the curb.

Ransom caught you and pulled you back up. He wrapped his arm around you as another taxi appeared.

“You’re pretty fucked up, sweetie, I can’t have you riding alone,” he opened the door and bent to usher you inside. You struggled but not much, hauling yourself across the seat as he followed closely. He gave an address you didn’t recognize as he shut the door.

“What-- where--” You touched your forehead as you leaned back against the seat. “Professor--”

“I like how you call me that,” he reached over and rested his hand on your leg, “Don’t worry, sweetie, better you come with me than some creep.”

You grabbed his hand and tried to push it away but it didn’t budge. He squeezed your thigh and got closer. His other arm went around your shoulder and drew you against him.

“It’s okay, sweetie, you’re tired. Just close your eyes.” He hummed. “I’ll get you back safe.”

You shook your head but your eyelids drooped against your will. The dancing, the gin, the weeks of sleep deprivation piled atop you and dragged you into a blurred stupor. You felt detached from the world as it passed outside the car windows and suddenly a door opened and closed. Your body was moving but not of your own volition. 

Your vision cleared for a moment and you looked up at a large house with immense windows. You blinked and you were inside. You sat for a moment as Ransom moved around and you were lifted up. You were cradled in his arms as he carried up a flight of stairs and through the unfamiliar hallway. You bounced atop a mattress with a jolt.

“Wha--” you quivered and tried to sit up. Your head spun as your lashes fluttered.

You sat dumbly, barely able to hold yourself up on shaky arms as Ransom undressed. You babbled as he revealed his muscled chest and thick arms. He was entirely unlike the first, and only boy, you’d been with. He was a man.

“I’m drunk…” you slurred, “I can’t… you’re my--my--”

“That’s right,” he reached into his jeans pocket, his fly open, “I’m your professor,” he pulled out his phone and neared. He nudged you so that you fell onto your back and pushed your legs apart. You looked up at him as he snapped photos of you. You raised your hand to try to hide yourself. “If anyone were to find out you tried to seduce me, and for a better grade, you’ll be expelled. A star scholar like you, untouchable for any university in the country. Pity.”

“You can’t.” You murmured as you closed your legs and tried to sit up but found it almost impossible. “You…”

“I will and if you try to blow the whistle, I’ll do it first and I’ll be a whole lot more convincing than the girl everyone saw piss drunk tonight.” He sneered, “Now open those legs for me, sweetie.”

You didn’t move. You hugged yourself with your arms as you were caught in a heavy tide. You were terrified, worse; helpless. You listened to the rustle of his clothing and the mattress dipped by your feet. 

His hands began at your ankles and glided up to your knees. He pushed your legs apart as you held them together. You were forced to relent as he pinched you viciously and your muscles quaked. He moved between your legs and rubbed your thighs as your skirt rode up. He pressed two fingers along the crotch of your panties.

“What’s the point of these in a dress like that, huh?” He began to tease you through the fabric, “What’s the matter, sweetie? You scared?” He slowly pulled aside your panties and touched your folds, “Am I your first?”

You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut. You whimpered as he flicked your clit.

“Maybe not your first but definitely the best,” he purred, “Ah, ah, you’re already wet. Kept you waiting all night, didn’t I?”

“Please, I don’t want to--”

“Shhh,” his fingers slipped down to your entrance and he traced it carefully, “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you want,” he poked his finger inside of you, “But your body does.” He added another and glided in and out of your easily. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

“P-p-pl--” Your voice fizzled as he curled his fingers and pressed the hell of his hand to your clit.

Your eyes rolled back and your eyelids shut. You were lost in a daze of pleasure and confusion. You were trapped but that coil winding inside you didn’t want to escape. The knot of nerves tangling tighter and tighter overpowered your fear and had you bracing the mattress. Your legs bent without a thought and your back arched. Ransom hummed as he guided your body closer to the edge.

Your nails curled into the duvet and your toes clenched. You tried to breathe, the taste of gin still on your tongue, and cried out instead. You shook as you came but it didn’t feel like your body. You felt as if you were floating above as you were used by this man. Your legs went limp and slid straight as you panted wildly and the world was specks of light as you opened your eyes.

“Teacher’s pet, aren’t you?” He taunted. “You always have the answers.”

You focused on Ransom as the room remained a fog behind him. A halo seemed to limn his figure as he drew his hand from your cunt and licked his fingers. He delighted in the taste and planted his hands on the bed and bent over you.

“That smug little smile when you’re right. You’re always right.” He hissed. “I had girls like you in my classes. Always thought they needed a good fuck.”

You touched his chest and pushed pathetically. He chuckled as his nose brushed yours.

“You know, when you bend over to get a pen from your bag, I can see straight down your shirt,” he winked, “It makes me wanna bend you over myself. You know how hard it is to teach when you’ve got me all riled up?”

“I didn’t-- Never…” you murmured, your head lolling as you found it hard to follow his words, hard to keep from drifting away entirely.

“I was going to wait until the break… Tonight was unexpected but not unwanted,” he uttered as he reached between your bodies. He dragged his tip along your folds. “You should know what you do to me.”

He stopped at your entrance and slowly pushed inside. Your mouth formed an O and he groaned with each inch. His arm came back up and hooked under your shoulder as he sank to his limit. You moaned at how full you were. Your walls hugged him and you grasped his shoulder as you tried to pull away from him. 

He grabbed your jaw and held your head straight as he glared down at you and jerked his hips.

“That’s all you, sweetie,” he muttered, “Does it hurt you like it hurts me?”

He began to thrust and your legs bent around him as you tried to ease the pain. Since your regrettable high school sweetheart, you hadn’t done anything more than some foreplay and that had been shameful, if not forgettable. You closed your eyes, your head swirled and your body bounced against the bed as the darkness embraced you.

When you opened your eyes next, your head hung to the side as Ransom held himself over you, arms straight as he rutted. His gaze clung to the joining of your bodies and the slick noise of it. His hair dangled down from his head as he watched himself fuck you, slamming harder and faster each time as if driven by the sight.

You winced and let out a moan. It hurt, delightfully so, but in the back of your alcohol-laced mind, you knew it was wrong.

He lowered himself slowly, bending to take your nipple in his mouth and suckle as he continued to rock against you. His thrusts grew sharper as his groans sent a rumble through your chest. Your thighs tingled and your core thrummed as you were overcome by your drunken ecstasy.

Your voice filled the room as you came again and you didn’t realise it was yours. Ransom drew back and sat up as he lifted your pelvis, crashing into you as hard as he could as he bared his teeth. His eyes were smoky as he grunted and his motion turned frantic.

“I’m gonna- ahhh,” he took several long thrusts as he flooded you with his orgasm. 

He kept going until the sensation made him spasm and he hung his head. He reached down to spread your cunt and admired it as he slowly slid out. As his cum leaked from you, he scooped it up with his fingers and pushed it back in, spreading the rest along your folds.

“Shit,” he said as he grazed your thighs with his nails, your eyes closed and consciousness fading with his voice, “Such a good girl…”

🥂

You felt as if you were buried in sand when you woke up. The world was too bright and yet too dull. The night before was blank, a void, and your surroundings were a greater mystery. The framed manuscripts, the antique side table with a twisted vase atop it, the pristine white walls. You groaned as every move made your head throb.

You rolled onto your back and gurgled. Your stomach stirred and you struggled to keep it from erupting. You turned your head slowly as your hand felt along the arm beside you. Ransom Drysdale, your Lit professor, watched you as you stared back confused. His bare torso made your cheeks burn and the dress bunched up around your waist added to your embarrassment. How had this happened?

“What-- Professor--”

“If I spank you, would you scream that for me? ‘Professor’?” He mocked.

“I don’t--” You sat up and it sent a strike of pain down the back of your skill, “What happened? How--”

“Do you want to see the pictures?” He sat up and his hand tickled along your back. “I think you might be able to guess without them.”

You blinked at him and drew away from his touch. You turned your legs over the side of the bed and took a breath before you stood. You pulled your dress up over your arms and tugged the skirt back down as you searched for your panties.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” He asked.

“I have to get… back to campus,” you gripped your head. “Where’s my purse?”

“Relax,” he cooed, “I’ll drive you back…” You heard him stand and turned as he approached you, naked. “But I think that we should get cleaned up first.”

“I--We--”

“A nice hot shower,” he licked his lips and leaned in, “Or do you like walking around with me all down your leg?”

You reeled and your stomach churned. You covered your mouth and shoved him away. You ran for the small door on the other side of the room and thankfully, found a toilet within. You wretched into the bowl until your body ached. You sensed his shadow behind you.

“You just make sure you wash your mouth out, sweetie,” he stepped past you and cranked the shower on, “I didn’t get a chance to play with that yet.”

[chatonne-rousse]

Turtle-y Awesome

@sketchy-panda sent me the following ask last week:

...and this is the story that sprang from that ask. You never know what you're going to get when you share a headcanon with me! 😉

Read it on Ao3 here.

"...et puit, quand il fut bien certain que personne ne pouvait le voir, Benjamin alluma sa veilleuse."

Adrien turns the last worn page and sets the book beside his knee on Hugo's bed.

"What do you think, kitten? Benjamin was turtle-y being a scaredy-cat, wasn't he?"

Hugo giggles, eyes bright. "He's not a cat, Papa, he's a turtle!"

Adrien nods sagely at his son. "Right you are," he says, patting the book's cover. "If this book tortoise anything, it's that Benjamin is definitely a turtle."

The number of turtle puns in the world is finite, and Hugo has heard his dad tell them all repeatedly, but he still laughs every time. The sound is music to Adrien's ears. He grins as he leans down to tuck the duvet around Hugo's shoulders and lifts his son's dark fringe to place a kiss on his forehead.

"Can we read another story, Papa? I'm not even tired."

Hugo's big green eyes scrunch shut as he yawns widely.

"Mmhmm. I can tell. You know what?" Adrien grabs another stuffed turtle from the bookcase and tucks it in beside the Carapace plushie already cradled in Hugo's arms. "Monsieur Vert looks very tired. He was almost sleeping over there! Maybe if you hold him really, really gently, that will help him fall asleep. I'm sure Carapace is tuckered out after a long day of superheroing, too."

"He is," Hugo says, nodding. He strokes his little hand up and over Monsieur Vert's soft shell. "I'll help them, Papa."

Adrien smiles even as his chest squeezes with emotion. "I know you will, my kind-hearted kitten." He can't resist pressing another kiss to Hugo's forehead and delights in receiving a loud, smacking kiss to his own cheek in return.

The turtle lamp on the nightstand is switched off and the Carapace nightlight beside the bookshelf activates, dim light glowing green through the plastic.

"Bonne nuit, ma petite tortue."

He watches his son cuddle his turtle and Carapace close as the closing door slowly eclipses the bed in shadow from the hallway light. Leaving the door open a crack, Adrien listens for a moment as Hugo gets comfortable in his bed.

He smiles as he pads down the hall toward Emma's room to join his wife for another round of goodnight kisses for their precious kittens.

*****

"Kitty, this is getting ridiculous. How is that the only thing he wants for his birthday?" Marinette shakes her head, but her grin betrays her lack of any real annoyance.

Adrien rubs his face and groans. "I know. Believe me, I know. Can you imagine if Nino knew?"

That surprises her. "You haven't told him? I told Alya ages ago when he said Carapace was his favorite." She thinks for a moment. "I don't think I've shared the, um...depth of the obsession, though."

He stares at her, deadpan, before they both laugh.

"Turtles I could handle, Mari. They're cute. They're green." He bats his eyes at her and she swats his arm playfully. "But Carapace? Carapace? When Chat Noir is right there? I don't get it."

"Awww, Chaton. Is my kitty jealous?"

"Of course not," he says, pouting, though he can't keep up the ruse and his smile breaks through. "Okay, maybe a little."

"Nino made a wonderful hero, and is the perfect holder for Wayzz, and you know it."

She scooches closer to him on the sofa and rubs his back gently. His eyes close for just a moment before opening them to find his wife gazing at him with what might just be his favorite look in her eyes - a teasing glint, a touch of heat, and an endless well of love. Everything goes fuzzy momentarily, but he catches her next words clearly.

"Besides, my favorite hero will always be Chat Noir. Always."

"Yeah?" he breathes.

She nods.

Her eyes go wide when he hauls her petite frame from the sofa beside him and settles her across his lap. She laughs as she wraps her arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his lips.

"What a coincidence, My Lady," he murmurs into the whisper of space between them, "because my favorite hero--" He pauses, kissing her again, "is also Chat Noir."

There's a beat of silence and then she's laughing, pressing her face into the crook of his neck to muffle her giggles. His arms tighten around her shaking shoulders as he laughs along with her, swept away by the sweet sound he will always love. There's no joy in the world quite like making his wife laugh.

"You know I'm kidding, Bug," he finally whispers into her hair when their laughter subsides. "Emma and I share a favorite hero. The greatest of all. Prettiest, too. Oh, wow, is she ever beautiful. And strong. And smart."

"Rena Rouge?" Marinette asks cheekily, her nose still pressed to his neck.

"Nooooo," he croons, tickling her sides until she laughs again. "It's Ladybug, jumping above, Lady magique et lady chance!"

"Kitty, no!" she begs through her giggles, "Don't get that in my head!"

"Too late!"

He silences the last of her laughter when he captures her lips with his, twin sighs mingling in the late-night quiet of the living room.

With forever in his arms and their shared future asleep down the hall, Adrien simply loses himself in this blissful moment, forgetting that their baby will turn five next weekend, that the passage of time is as inevitable as the dichotomy of creation and destruction. Wrapped up in his wife, time seems to stop altogether. Marinette - her love, her care, their unshakeable bond - is eternal.

But of course, the clock still ticks. And when they part a few minutes later, after one last kiss and a nuzzle of her nose against his, he still has to ask.

"So we're really throwing Hugo a Carapace-themed birthday party?"

She nods. "Yep."

"And we're buying him the new Shell-ter Secret Hideout Super Bunker, complete with Carapace action figure, power-ups, costume changes, a Turtle-mobile sports car that Nino never had, and four different colored shields that he also never had?"

"There's a jet, too, for some reason. But...yep."

Adrien nods slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "He's going to love it."

"Oh, he is," she affirms, her grin matching her husband's. "And so is Uncle Nino."

He snorts a laugh and pulls her close once more, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo.

"This'll be hilarious."

Marinette smiles against his shoulder.

"Yep."

*****

Everything is green.

Their normally colorful apartment seems to have transformed into an emerald dreamscape that doubles as a turtle sanctuary.

Everything is green, and there are turtles everywhere.

Sea turtles, tortoises, turtles of all kinds - including a certain turtle-themed superhero - adorn every surface. Adrien had been surprised by the amount of Carapace party merchandise he was able to find online. He's used to the numerous Carapace items in Hugo's bedroom, pieces he's added to his collection one by one over the past year or so. But this, his best friend's face dangling from streamers, emblazoned on little party hats, is just a little weird.

He's proud, though. A little jealous, a lot amused, and very, very proud. No desperately sad, pitifully lonely teenage boy has ever found a better friend than Nino Lahiffe. He's the brother of his heart, the mellow to his anxious, the staunch protector of their little group of best friends and hero teammates. Adrien has to admit that Hugo has great taste in favorite superheroes.

Someday he'll discover that his idol is also his Uncle Nino, but today is not that day. Today, the magic and wonder still shines in his son's eyes, and it's a beautiful thing.

Adrien putters around the kitchen making last-minute preparations to the food and drink selection, making sure there are plenty of cups and plates (all printed with a Carapace action scene, of course) stacked on the island. Oddly, he couldn't find Carapace napkins to go along with the other paper goods, but Marinette had saved the day by snagging a pack of sea turtle patterned napkins that coordinated perfectly in a pinch.

He smiles at the thought of his resourceful bug, his grin widening as he hears her welcome guests at the door. This is followed by a squeal of glee when Hugo and two of his classmates run off to his bedroom to play. Adrien shakes his head, still smiling. He'll have to lure them out in a bit with snacks and the promise of gifts and cake.

It's not like he doesn't already know from several years of experience that children's birthday parties are mostly adults mingling and intermittently making sure the kids don't get into too much mischief as they play together.

He takes the spinach quiche from the oven where it was warming up and sets it on the table with the other food, rebelliously placing a black potholder with a neon green pawprint pattern under the hot ceramic dish.

A towering, tiered tray of green macarons has pride of place on the dining room table, the top half of each cookie painted to look like a turtle's shell in edible glittering gold. They look almost too pretty to eat, and the same goes for the expertly-decorated turtle cake nearby, made by Hugo's grandparents and brought straight from the bakery for his big day.

The vegetable plate is an array of green, from broccoli to peppers to celery. The party has barely begun, but the celery is already running low, thanks to Emma's clandestine snacking in the hours beforehand.

Everything is green, and Hugo loves it. And that's what it's all about, really.

*****

Adrien is on his way back from checking in on the now half dozen kids playing in Hugo's room when he hears Alya's laughter from the entryway. Clearly she's spotted the party decor. He rounds the corner to find Marinette hugging her best friend, Alya's pregnant belly only getting in the way a bit and not stopping her from throwing her arms around Marinette's shoulders.

"Sorry we're late, Mari," she says, then pitches her voice to a stage whisper. "I had to pee. Twice." She leans back from the hug and cradles her bump. "Actually, I'm just going to..." She points down the hall, and Marinette laughs.

"Go for it, Als. We've all been there."

Nino is still crouched by the door, helping his daughter out of her jacket and shoes. He just shakes his head and laughs. She races off to find her "cousins" and Nino stands, kissing Marinette on each cheek and wrapping Adrien in a hug.

Surveying the apartment over Adrien's shoulder, he claps him on the back and says, "I love what you've done with the place. Very inspired design choice."

Adrien rolls his eyes and all three of them laugh.

"Hugo is obsessed with turtles. You have no idea."

"Oh, I think he has some idea, Minou." Marinette smiles at her husband over her shoulder, linking arms with Alya when she joins them again and ushering her into the green-bedecked living room.

He glances sidelong at Nino with a sheepish grin. "This isn't too weird for you, is it? It was all Hugo's idea. He hasn't stopped talking about his 'Carapace Turtle Party' for weeks," Adrien says, air quotes included.

"Nah, mec, it's cool. Kind of flattering." Nino raises an eyebrow and laughs. "What do you think he'll say when you tell him someday?"

Adrien just shakes his head. "Probably ask if you can adopt him and be his dad instead." His smile is teasing but just a touch rueful.

Nino laughs again. "No way, man. Number one, I've already got enough kids. Number two, you're the best dad. They love you like crazy, bro. Seriously."

His chest fills with warmth. Nino is such an incredible friend. And he's right (about the last bit, at least).

"They're incredible, Nino. Being a dad is..." He trails off, unable to find the words.

"I know, dude." He claps Adrien on the shoulder. "They're a pain in the ass, but they make up for it by being totally awesome."

Nino glances around, finally spotting the table full of green food and turtle-themed treats.

"Wait. Bro. Is that a turtle cake?"

*****

"You know," Nino says a few minutes later, washing down a matcha macaron with a swig of turtle punch, "I could get used to this. It would mess with my head, but after a while--" he looks at the cup with his face on it and shrugs, "it's not so strange. Better than having my face plastered on a billboard outside the Galeries Lafayette."

Adrien groans. "Et tu, Brute? Why would you remind me of that?"

"Because I can." Nino takes another bite of macaron and nudges his best friend's shoulder, laughing.

*****

As the kids snack and carry on, Adrien finally decides it's time to let his best friend see the Carapace shrine that is his son's bedroom.

Nino takes in Hugo's completely green, turtle-filled bedroom as Adrien waits with bated breath beside him for his reaction.

It is, as usual, relatively chill.

"Little dude has good taste!"

"Indeed." Wayzz peeks from Nino's collar with a pleased smile on his face. "The turtle has always symbolized wisdom, strength, and longevity." His tiny smile widens. "I'm also partial to the color green."

Nino steps farther into Hugo's room to examine the bookcase. "I...did not know they made this much Carapace merch."

"Believe me, there's more. We have to draw the line somewhere." Adrien closes his eyes and sighs. "Although he does brush his teeth with a Carapace toothbrush."

Nino's laugh starts as a snort and builds when he spots the Carapace wastebasket beside Hugo's bed and the Carapace plushie propped against his pillow. It turns positively raucous when he sees his best friend's face.

"Holy crap, dude," he wheezes. "This is hilarious. You must be so jealous."

"I am not!"

"You totally are."

"Well--" Adrien sputters, "Marinette is, too!"

"Not as much as you are, Kitty!" she calls from the living room.

Adrien throws his hands in the air. Nino doubles over.

"Chat Noir is cool, too," he mutters, petulant.

A still-laughing Nino pats his arm consolingly. "If it makes you feel any better, Chat Noir is my favorite hero...after Rena Rouge."

That actually does make him feel better, but he's not telling Nino that. Instead, he just grins a sly half-smile at his best friend. "Good save, man."

"Hey, I know which side my bread is buttered on, mec. Don't act like you don't."

Adrien is helpless to the smile that spreads across his face.

Nino groans. "You've been married for seven years, dude. Are you ever not going to go all gooey just thinking about Marinette?"

Adrien quirks an eyebrow and glances sidelong at him. Nino nods once and pats Adrien's shoulder.

"That was a dumb question, wasn't it?"

"Yep," Marinette says from the hallway behind them.

Adrien's heart beats faster at the twinkle in her eye. He wonders how much she heard. Probably all of it - she always did have sonic hearing, but motherhood seemed to ramp it up to eleven. Not much escapes his wife.

"Time for cake and presents," she announces. "Nino, you can revel in Hugo's Carapace shrine later."

"And I will, don't you worry," Nino says with a laugh as he turns to head back to the party.

Adrien throws an arm over his best friend's shoulder and smiles brightly at Marinette.

Hugo has merch, but Adrien has a real, live Ladybug who promised eternity to her Chat Noir. He holds his own favorite superhero in his arms every night, and nothing, nothing compares to that.

*****

Surrounded by wrapping paper and bows, the birthday boy sits on the floor with one last gift in front of him. The box is taller than he is when seated, and he has to stand up on his knees to tear the paper off the top. As soon as he can see what's inside, he shouts with glee and jumps to his feet. Overjoyed, he scampers around the coffee table to his parents, first thanking Marinette with a hug and kiss, then getting swept up in Adrien's arms for a bear hug.

The fact that Hugo doesn't push away from him to return to his barely-unwrapped gift is not lost on him, nor is the fact that he abandoned it and thought to thank them first in his excitement.

Sometimes Adrien feels like he's been given so much more than he deserves. Marinette alone is a blessing beyond his imagination, but Emma and Hugo, too? It's too much and he knows it, so he holds them close and relishes every single moment like this one with his little boy hugging him tight and murmuring thanks into his neck.

A few minutes later finds Hugo examining every detail of his new treasure (after Adrien wrangled all the parts out of their plastic-encased prison).

He claps his hands when he sees that this set comes with a bonus Chat Noir action figure in addition to Carapace and his shields of many colors.

"Maman!" he cries, jubilant, holding Chat Noir above his head so she can see. "Look! It has Chat Noir! You love Chat Noir!"

Blushing, Marinette pointedly avoids looking in the direction of the two moms of Hugo's school friends who've stayed for the party but smiles widely at her son. "I do. He's my favorite superhero of all time."

Hugo nods, turning to his dad where he sits beside him on the floor, struggling to snip the tiny plastic anchors holding each piece to the cardboard backing.

"See, Papa? He's Carapace's sidekick."

"Hey!" Adrien says indignantly. He looks up from the mess of cardboard and plastic in his lap as Marinette, Alya, and Nino laugh.

Nino, best bro that he is, chimes in. "Nah, little man, Chat Noir is no one's sidekick. He's way too brave and cool for that." He grins at Hugo and points first to the Carapace action figure on the coffee table and then to Chat Noir in his hand. "They're a team. Best friends and superheroes at the same time. That's why they're so awesome."

Hugo looks at the Chat Noir figure for a long moment. "Wow," he breathes. "Chat Noir is as cool as Carapace." He says it like a revelation that's rocked his entire worldview.

Alya sniffles and Marinette hands her a tissue.

"Okay, but Ladybug is still the coolest," Emma pipes up from Hugo's other side.

All the adults besides Marinette nod. Adrien reaches around Hugo to pat Emma's back.

"You're absolutely correct, kitten."

Marinette blushes again and Alya blows her nose.

Hugo tucks Carapace into the driver's seat of the Turtle-mobile with Chat Noir beside him as his passenger, racing the sports car across the rug toward his friends so they can play with his new toys, too.

Adrien looks from his son to his own best friend, and Nino gives him a thumbs up and a grin.

*****

Later, when the dishes are washed and their living room looks slightly less like a turtle habitat, Adrien sits on the sofa with a cup of tea and watches Hugo play with his new, treasured birthday gifts. The Shell-ter Secret Hideout Super Bunker is open, its many accessories strewn around Hugo where he sits cross-legged, Carapace in his left hand and Chat Noir in his right.

"I'll protect you!" "Carapace" cries, Hugo's voice pitched to sound brave and true but still carrying his sweet child's tone.

"Thank you for keeping My Lady safe, Carapace!"

Adrien snorts a surprised laugh into his tea. "Chat Noir" speaks in a husky growl, though Hugo gives him a note of cheery confidence, as though he truly appreciates Carapace's brave deeds, as though Chat Noir can take the decisive cataclysmic swing knowing his beloved partner is safe from harm.

And honestly, Hugo has the right of it. Adrien wonders how his son could possibly know that this exact scene - with slightly different dialogue, of course - played out many times over, years before he was born.

Hugo mimics the sound of an explosion, then an "oof!" as Chat Noir falls to his back but springs up again quickly. Just as Carapace returns to Chat's side with a confident, "What can I do to help save the day, Chat Noir?", Marinette's hands snake around Adrien's shoulders from behind, surprising him.

He sets his mug on a coaster on the end table and wraps his hands around her forearms, pulling her in closer. Leaned over the back of the sofa, she nuzzles his cheek with hers before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I think we pulled off the dream turtle party pretty well, don't you, Chaton?"

"Oh, we turtle-y did."

Adrien delights in the huff of laughter she exhales against his cheek. That might be the most overused pun in the house, but sometimes it still lands just right. They watch Hugo play, matching grins making their cheeks press closer together.

"Looks like that was one shell of a gift, eh?"

He swoons dramatically, his head falling to the back cushion of the sofa so he looks at Marinette upside-down. "My Lady, you know what it does to me when you pun."

"Oh, I do," she says, completely unapologetic, and boops his nose.

He just has to lean up to kiss her because, well, she's so beautiful and he loves her so much and she's right there.

They break apart a moment later when they hear Emma call for Marinette from her bedroom. She plants one last upside-down kiss on his forehead and lets her hands drift slowly across his chest and shoulders as she stands.

She gives him a wry smile. "Duty calls."

"Hmmm," he hums thoughtfully, picking up his tea and taking another sip. "And here I thought her name was Emma."

Marinette groans at him as she walks away, and the sound catches Hugo's attention.

"Papa? Will you play superheroes with me?"

Of course. Always. I will never, ever be too busy for my kittens, he thinks.

"Sure, buddy," he says instead.

Finishing his tea in one big gulp, he slides from the sofa and scampers on hands and knees like a giant cat to where his son is playing. Hugo giggles at his dad's ridiculousness.

Adrien takes stock of the many accessories scattered around the play set and asks, "What are Chat Noir and Carapace up to today?"

Hugo explains the situation, the bad guy's motives, and what the heroes need to do to save Paris from disaster. Adrien listens carefully. Looking up at him with green eyes that match his own, big and wide and crinkled at the corners with his happy smile, Hugo offers the Chat Noir action figure to his dad.

"Will you be Chat Noir, Papa? He's Carapace's best friend in the world and they need to work together to save the day."

Adrien cradles the action figure in one hand and gently pats the pocket where Plagg hides with the other. His kwami presses a paw against his chest in return. Overwhelmed, all he can do is grin at Hugo and try not to cry.

"It would be my greatest honor," he vows grandly, holding up a hand in oath. "I purr-omise to be the best hero I can be. Cat's honor."

Hugo laughs. "You said honor twice."

"So I did. That's because it's very important."

His son nods solemnly, then reaches for Carapace's super jet. He places the hero in the cockpit and flies the jet around his head, making zooming noises.

"Are you ready, Chat Noir? I'm coming to pick you up!"

The jet has only one seat, but that doesn't seem to bother Hugo. Adrien readies the tiny plastic baton in Chat Noir's hand and uses it to vault from his own knee into the imaginary sky over Paris.

"Meow-velous!" he crows, delighted. "This cat is ready to be whiskered away in your very realistic jet! Allons-y, my turtle friend!"

Hugo giggles, Adrien's heart melts, and they set off on a grand adventure together.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 23

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

It doesn’t feel real until she sees the flutter on the ultrasound, the grey and white pixels flashing erratically confirming a healthy ten-week pregnancy. The doctor gives them a due date of September 17th, and she explains to Mulder repeatedly that the due date is only an estimate, that the baby will most likely arrive sometime in the two weeks before or after that day. Nonetheless, he prints little numbers in the corner of each date on the calendar, counting down.

She is lucky to experience very little nausea, but the time saved clinging to the toilet is instead allocated to bursting into tears at every tiny inconvenience. Mulder comforts her with a confused expression when she cries because she can’t find a Tupperware lid that fits, or her latte has too much foam, or she realizes she can no longer see her toes. She cries because she’s crying, because she feels out of touch with her own body and thrown off by her own emotions. They marvel at the growth of her belly as well as her breasts, which are even more sensitive than they were before. Her libido kicks into overdrive at the same time that she becomes incredibly self conscious about her protruding belly, her fuller face, her swelling feet. This leads to more tears as she grapples with both wanting desperately to be touched and not wanting him to look at her.

He tells her each day how beautiful she is, her hair growing longer and thicker, her skin glowing, her rounding belly housing the perfect little life that they created together. When he’s home, he rubs her feet every night, fetches her countless glasses of water and then helps tow her out of the bed so she can pee ten times in the night. When he’s on the road with Monica, he calls three times a day, asks Missy and her mother to go by and check on her, calls in dinner to be delivered so she doesn't have to cook. As her due date nears, he stops going on out-of-town cases, needing to be close enough to be by her side immediately when she goes into labor. He will not risk missing the birth of his child.

The apartment becomes cramped with a bassinet, changing table, pack n play, and various other baby gadgets. They consider moving, but the idea is too overwhelming for Scully so they decide to stay put until the baby becomes mobile and they really need more space. Mulder breaks the lease on his apartment and moves his fish tank into the living room, putting the rest of his furniture in storage until they buy a house. Priscilla breaks in all the baby gear, sleeping in the car seat and jumping into the swing, covering the tiny onesies with her black fur and making Scully cry yet again. Mulder refuses to let her scoop the litter box, even though she insists it’s safe if she wears gloves and washes her hands afterward. Other tasks she’s forbidden to complete include cleaning the toilet, carrying in the groceries and hauling laundry to the washing machine. When he’s on the road, she misses him as much as she is relieved to be able to be independent, not much caring for being treated as though she’s made of glass.

For the majority of her pregnancy, Scully insists that she doesn’t want to know the sex of the baby, that she wants to be surprised. Mulder respects her decision, even though he would personally like to know, and they create two lists of potential baby names, Scully crossing off “Lisa Marie'' each time Mulder tries to add it to the “girl” column. When she reaches 39 weeks, her pelvis widening as the baby drops into the birth canal, she is so miserable that she has a change of heart, needing to feel connected to this thing that is destroying her body and stealing her sleep. They call the doctor together on a Thursday afternoon as Scully sits on the couch in tears, having woken that morning to find angry red stretch marks marring her previously lily-white belly. When Mulder relays the doctor’s message that the baby is a girl, she sobs harder, and he’s not sure whether it’s because she’s happy or disappointed.

She wakes him at 3:00 am on September 21st, the irregular Braxton-Hicks contractions she’s been feeling for weeks having taken up a predictable cadence, now ten minutes apart almost on the dot. He starts rushing around, scrambling for her hospital bag and his shoes, and now it is her turn to provide comfort, to let him know there’s plenty of time. She doesn’t want to go to the hospital until the contractions are five minutes apart, and so they wait. The progression to nine minutes, then eight, then seven is alarmingly fast, and by the time she agrees that they should head to the hospital she’s starting to feel pressure low in her pelvis. Mulder drives too fast, the streets thankfully still quiet in the early morning, and she is wheeled into labor and delivery with not enough time for an epidural, much to her lament.

Molly Katherine Mulder has blue eyes and a dark shock of nearly-black hair. She barely cries at her entrance to the world, instead searching the room with a curious gaze, squeezing her daddy’s finger with an impressively strong grip and latching like a pro. They are able to go home the following day, Scully wincing as she moves gingerly from the bed to the couch, rinsing her tender stitches with a bottle of warm water and bleeding through entire packages of overnight maxi pads in a day.

Mulder takes off work for two weeks and they spend blissful days curled up in bed with the baby nestled between them as Priscilla curiously sniffs around her, licking her hair with a rough tongue and making them laugh. Each time Scully wakes at night to nurse, Mulder insists she go back to sleep while he changes the baby and walks her around the quiet apartment until she is asleep, singing softly and lulling them both.

When Mulder returns to work, Scully insists that he get a full night's sleep and let her wake up with Molly, reasoning that she can take naps during the day. She does not, of course, take naps during the day. Instead she tries to keep the apartment clean, the clothes washed, the diapers taken out to the dumpster, the litter box scooped. She does too much, and he sees it each day as she grows more and more weary, more and more defeated, the bags under her eyes deepening in color and her mouth rarely hosting a smile. He begs her to let him do more, to ask less of herself, but she is stubborn and strong-willed, the very things he loves about her now keeping her from properly taking care of herself.

They struggle through sleep-deprived arguments over who left the breast milk out on the counter all night, why it matters if he changes the baby on the floor instead of the changing table, why Scully doesn’t want to supplement with formula so he can take some of the night feedings. Her doctor releases her as medically clear to have sex after six weeks and she cries as she tells him that she doesn’t feel ready, that she can’t imagine anything worse than sex right now, and he holds her as he tells her that he doesn’t care, that she should take as much time as she needs, that he can wait.

They struggle, and they thrive. Moments of absolute unadulterated joy are punctuated by intense despair and overwhelm. The gain of a family against the loss of a life where you could pick up and go, stay out until 2:00 am and make love in the middle of the day. They are happy, and they are stressed, and they face it together.

On a Saturday in December, Mulder wakes early and takes care of every conceivable task in the house; the laundry, the dishes, cleaning the bathroom, scooping the litter, buying the groceries. He checks every item off Scully’s to-do list and then takes Molly for a long drive, leaving Scully alone with nothing to do in hopes that she will rest for once. When they return from their excursion, he creeps into the quiet apartment with a sleeping baby in his arms and sets her in the bassinet by the couch. At first he thinks maybe Scully has gone out, but he finds her in bed asleep with soaking wet hair, Priscilla curled up behind her knees. He watches her for a bit, affection clutching at his chest, then changes into sweats and kicks Priscilla out so he can snuggle up behind Scully. It feels so infrequent that they just lay like this anymore; one of them is always about to get up with the baby, about to get ready for work, or doesn’t want to be touched after a tiny person has clung to them all day. He pulls in a deep breath, smelling her lavender bubble bath and feeling the rise and fall of her ribs against his chest. He doesn’t want to disturb her, but he can’t resist pressing a tiny kiss to the side of her neck.

“Mmmm,” she hums in response, twisting her body around so they are face to face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers.

“It’s okay. Where’s Molly?”

“She’s asleep in the living room.”

She sighs and snuggles closer to him, pressing her forehead into his chest and pushing one of her legs between his.

“This feels nice,” she says contentedly, and he brushes his hand softly up and down her back.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Tired. Frumpy. Like I haven’t put on real clothes or a stitch of makeup in three months,” she laments.

“Well, I’ll give you tired,” he says softly, “but I can’t agree on frumpy. I think you look very beautiful.”

She scoffs against his chest.

“You don’t have to placate me, Mulder. I know I’m a mess.”

“Maybe so, but you’re my mess,” he retorts, pushing his fingers into her hair to gently scratch her scalp.

She tilts her head up to look at him, appraising his face with a skeptical eye.

“Is this what you thought it was going to be like?” she asks, her tone open and vulnerable.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, “I guess I didn’t really know what to expect.”

She sighs. “I just wish I knew when I might start to feel like myself again,” she says sadly. “I can’t help but feel like you’re not getting what you signed up for.”

“What do you mean?” he asks with a concerned frown.

He sees her eyes growing glassy, dampening with impending tears. “I mean the woman you asked out in the autopsy bay isn’t the one you’re with now,” she whispers, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

“That’s not even a little bit true,” he implores, cradling the back of her head with his hand. “You are everything you were then, and more. I’m amazed by you every day.”

She closes her eyes, a tear rolling across the bridge of her nose. He feels his chest ache; the need to make her understand is overwhelming.

“Hey,” he says, pulling the blankets back, “come here.”

He pulls her into a sitting position and slides off the bed, towing her along with him to sit on the edge of the mattress. He kneels on the floor between her knees, his hands on her hips.

“If you think for one second that I want to be with anyone but you, you’re fucking insane. I don’t care if you wear giant milk-stained T-shirts and have spit up in your hair for the rest of our lives, Scully. You’re it for me, okay?”

She pulls in a shuddering breath and wipes at her eyes, but won’t look at him.

“Stay here,” he commands, and disappears into the bathroom for a moment. When he comes back, he returns to his post kneeling at her feet.

“We knew this was going to be hard,” he says tenderly, holding one of her hands in his. “You said it yourself before Molly was born, that it would be the hardest time in our lives, and that we’d be at our worst. And I’m telling you that if this is your worst, sign me up, okay? It hasn’t changed how I feel about you.”

He holds up his other hand, a diamond ring perched between his thumb and forefinger.

“If you’re not ready to say yes yet, that’s okay, but I need you to know that I still want to marry you, Scully. I’ll wait forever if that’s what you need, but there hasn’t been a single day since I asked that I haven’t still meant it.”

Her tears have stopped, though her eyes are still wet and the tip of her nose is red. She looks from him to the ring and back, her eyebrows stitched in contemplation.

“I didn’t hear you ask me a question,” she says quietly, and he picks up on the slightest lilt of playfulness in her voice, which makes him break out into a smile.

“Dana Katherine Scully, love of my life, mother of my child, will you marry me?”

She smiles then, and he thinks his heart may burst right out of his chest.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she answers, and he takes her left hand, slipping the ring on her finger.

She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him repeatedly, soft pecks devolving into lingering smooches as he shifts up slightly, pushing her back gently to recline on the bed. He moves over her, kissing along her jaw and down her neck, not going any further, not wanting to rush her.

She brings her hands to his hips, letting the tips of her fingers slip under the waist of his sweatpants, and his cock stirs. It’s been so, so, long, and he wants her desperately, but not until she’s ready. She pushes her hand down the front of his pants, gripping him as he grows hard under her touch. It’s overwhelming in the best way; he feels like a teenager being touched for the first time.

“I wanna have sex,” she breathes into his ear, the words rushing out quickly as though she’s afraid she might change her mind if she waits too long to say them.

He pulls back to look at her. “Are you sure?” he asks, and she nods, bringing her palm to his cheek before glancing at the ring on her finger and smiling.

They move slowly, though still with a sense of urgency that a baby sleeping in the next room brings. He pushes her shirt up and she lets him take it off, then slips the yoga pants off her hips, leaving her in basic black cotton briefs. He sees the hesitancy in her eyes as he looks at her body, now softer than it was before Molly, curvy in different places, purple streaks running from below her belly button to disappear under her panties.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing her chest, her breasts, her belly, running his tongue along the grooves of her stretch marks. He loops his thumbs under the waist of her panties and tugs them down slowly, quickly undressing before he rejoins her in the bed.

“Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” he asks with a serious expression, and she nods, letting her legs fall open as he settles between them. He lines himself up with her entrance and pushes in achingly slowly, watching her face raptly. Her mouth opens slightly, and she takes in a sharp little breath. He’s about to ask her if it hurts when she closes her eyes and her mouth drops open further as she breathes out “oh,” in a way that he knows means pleasure, not pain. When he’s all the way in, their hip bones pressed together tightly, he stills and kisses her for a while, feeling like he could melt into a puddle for how good everything feels. His heart, his mind, his body, he is all wrapped up in her and it’s exactly where he wants to be.

He begins to move, and she responds with an arch of her back and a little gasp, her hands clutching at his shoulders. Little by little, he increases his pace until he knows he won’t last much longer.

“What do you need?” he asks, and she brings her hand to her breast.

He dips his head, flicking at the hardened bud of her nipple, and feels her clench around him. He plays with the level of pressure, licking and sucking, pleasantly surprised that she is enjoying it even as her breasts have taken on a purely functional role these last few months.

She pulls in a huge breath, arching her back and pressing her head into the mattress and he groans as he feels her tighten around him. She emits a single piercing cry when she comes, stifling it with an arm slung across her mouth. He pours into her, burying his face in her neck, clinging to her like a life raft. She is, in fact, all he needs to survive.

Resting half his weight on the mattress beside her, he stays inside as they both come down, panting and smiling, brushing hands over each other’s skin, reconnecting.

“Ah!” Molly yells from the living room, and Mulder laughs.

“You’re being summoned,” Scully says with a tender smile.

He withdraws from her, handing her his T-shirt to clean up while he slips on his sweatpants and retrieves Molly from her bassinet.

“Guess what, Goose?” he says, using his special nickname for her, “Mommy and Daddy are getting married.”

“AH!” She squeals, flapping her arms.

[waitimcomingtoo]

First They’re Sour, Then They’re Sweet

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: you pull a series of pranks on Tom, one he likes and one he doesn’t

Warning: walking in on your boyfriend tik tok trend, bratty Tom, suggestive content

Masterlist

“Hey guys.” You greeted the camera. “Since we’re all stuck in quarantine, I wanted to do something fun to entertain my lovely subscribers. Unfortunately, that fun will be at the expense of my boyfriend. I’m kinda doing the “I don’t want to kiss you” prank, but I’ll just be giving him quick little pecks. It may sound strange, but you guys don’t know Tom like I do. He hates pecks, he says they’re an insult to kisses. We’re gonna see how mad I can make him by only giving him pecks all day. Wish me luck!”

You pointed your camera down and quietly made your way to the kitchen. You hid the camera under a dish towel and positioned it towards the stove. After checking to make sure no one saw, you began to make a morning cup of tea. Tom heard the rustling of the tea bags and padded into the kitchen to greet you.

“Good morning.” You said sweetly , reaching out your hand for him to take. He took it and gave it a squeeze before pulling you towards him.

“Morning, beautiful.” Tom smiled sleepily at you. You leaned into his chest and gave him a quick peck before going back to the stove to make tea. You didn’t catch the face he made, but the camera did.

“What was that?” He asked, already sounding offended.

“What was what?” You asked innocently as you poured the hot water into two mugs.

“You pecked me.” He spat, as if the word were poison in his mouth. “You gave me a peck.”

“I gave you a kiss, like I always do.” You looked at him and laughed playfully. There was no humor in his face, only a firm look of betrayal.

“This isn’t Disney Chanel, my love. That wasn’t a kiss.” He insisted. “That was a peck, and you know how I feel about pecks.”

“Here we go.” You sighed and handed him his mug. He looked at it skeptically as he took it, as if he had lost all trust in you.

“They’re an insult to kisses.” He said bitterly as he sipped his tea, never taking his accusing eyes off of you.

“What do you want me to do? Outlaw pecks?” You humored him as you stirred some honey into your drink.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m just saying, I’ve taken pees longer than that kiss.” He sighed dramatically and shrugged.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You laughed and went over to him, giving him an ever shorter peck this time. He set his cup of tea down and looked at you like you were crazy.

“Thats your idea of an apology? Did our lips even touch?” He exclaimed.

“What are you getting so worked up over? Did you not sleep well?” You put your hands on your hips, pleased that your prank was already working.

“I slept fine.” He quipped. “In fact, I must still be sleeping because I’m having a nightmare where my girlfriend doesn’t want to kiss me.” He sassed.

“I’ve kissed you twice already.” You told him and he scoffed.

“Those two kisses combined wouldn’t even make up for half the length of our usual kisses. “ He said pointedly and you laughed at his behavior.

“Are you timing our kisses now?” You teased him. “Has quarantine really done this to you?”

“You know I like my sweet lady kisses and you know I like them to last for longer than a second.” He mumbled as he toyed with your fingers. For a moment, you felt guilty and wanted to tell him it was just a prank.

“It was just a kiss, Tommy.” You said softly. “I’m sure we’ll have more.”

“But I don’t want them if they’re like that.” He whined and your pulled your hand out of his, pretending to be offended.

“You don’t want them?” You hits back a smile as he tried to go back on his words.

“That’s not what I meant. I always want them.” He quickly took your hands again and you tilted your head to listen to him. “I’m just saying, I don’t want a two second peck. I wanna love up on you, girl.” He winked and you pretended to gag.

“That was horrible. Please don’t do it again.” You giggled as you cringed.

“Couldn’t be much worse than your horrible excuse for a kiss.” He mumbled. You took your hands out of his again and folded your arms.

“Fine. If you don’t like my kisses, I’ll find someone else to give them to.” You stated before storming out of the kitchen, making sure to tilt the camera a little so it would capture your next move. Tom was about to protest when he saw where you were going. You marched right outside, not stopping until you reached the chicken coop. You made eye contact with Tom as you bent down towards a chicken.

“Don’t do it.” He shook his head and he muttered under his breath. You stared him down as you picked up a chicken, not breaking eye contact when it tried to fly away.

“Don’t you dare.” Tom said gravely. Harry and Harrison entered the kitchen and dropped their conversation immediately when they saw you and Tom glaring at each other.

“What the hell is this?” Harry asked as he looked between you in the yard and Tom in the kitchen.

“We’re having a couples quarrel.” Tom grumbled, clenching his fist when you puckered your lips and moved in towards the chicken.

“If this is what a couples quarrels looks like, I never want a girlfriend.” Harry laughed and looked at Harrison.

“Lucky for you, no ones lining up for that position anyway.” Harrison quipped as he sat down.

“Damn it.” Tom yelled when the chicken started to attack your face. “Y/n! Stop trying to kiss the chickens! That’s the wrong kind of peck.”

He ran out in the backyard to stop you, chicken feathers going anywhere. Harry and Harrison watched as you and Tom briefly argued before you stormed away. You came back into the kitchen and were met with confused stares from Harry and Harrison.

“It’s for my channel.” You explained, and they immediately understood.

You waited a few hours before setting your camera up in the kitchen again, hiding it in the fruit bowl this time. For the next step in the prank, you made Tom a sandwich as a peace offering. It wasn’t long before he wandered into the kitchen to find you.

“Oh, good. I was just about to call for you.” You smiled at him when he walked in. His timid expression melted into one of relief when you didn’t show any signs of anger. You handed him his sandwich on a plate and he took it with wide eyes.

“Did you make me lunch?” He asked in disbelief. “Even after our fight?”

“It’s just a sandwich.” You shrugged, shooting a look at the camera. “And that was barely a fight. I’ve fought worse with Tuwaine over who gets to use the bathroom first in the morning.”

“Arguably the best sandwich ever created, if it was made by the woman I love.” Tom said with soft eyes, his way of apologizing for his behavior. You smiled at him and gave him a gentle nod, letting him know you were sorry too.

“You haven’t even tried it yet.” You pointed out and he grinned.

“I know. I just have a lucky feeling.” He smiled at you and brushed your cheek. “Thank you, darling.”

“Of course.” You cooed before leaning in and giving him another quick peck. His face scrunched up in disdain as he tried to compose himself.

“There it is again.” He laughed humorlessly, looking at you to see if you were testing him.

“What?” You asked coyly.

“The peck.” He said like it were obvious. “You’re pecking me.”

“I’m kissing you.” You said flatly.

“No. That was not a kiss, that was a peck.” He corrected you. “A peck is a kiss’s shorter, quicker, uglier cousin. And that’s what you keep giving me.”

“They’re just kisses, Tommy.” You sighed and waved your hand dismissively.

“No, baby doll. I wish you were giving me kisses. But for some reason, I’m being punished with pecks.” His tone got brattier as the sentence went on, causing you to put your hand on your hip.

“So kissing me is a punishment now?” You squinted your eyes at him.

“No, not kissing you is.” He whined. “Pecking you is torture. It’s like when you go inside a fancy restaurant just to use the bathroom. It’s nice, but it’s fleeting.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” You told him and walked away, still in view of the camera.

“I am not. Every time you peck me, I get that feeling in my tummy that you get when you think the waiter is coming with your food but then they give it to another table.” Tom pouted and you turned your back so he couldn’t see you laugh.

“How about this?” You clasped your hands together. “No more kisses, or pecks, for the rest of the day. Does that sound good?”

His eyes widened and he rushed to you, shaking his head rapidly.

“No. Anything but that. You know my blood pressure goes up when I don’t get affection.” He pleaded.

“Then stop complaining when I kiss you.” You patted his chest and barely kissed his lips, just to really drive him over the edge.

“Why do you hate me?” He asked after a beat of silence.

“Don’t start.” You warned him.

“Oh, I’m gonna start. I need a real kiss, Y/n. This is a matter of life or death.” He said dramatically.

“How?” You cocked your hip.

“If I don’t get sweet lady kisses, I’m going to die.” He said, quieter now. You laughed and patted his cheek.

“You’re ridiculous.” You repeated, taking a bite of his sandwich. He wasn’t wrong about it being good.

“And you’re a murderer. I hope you’re happy.” He said sarcastically, also taking a bite.

“Oh My God.” You groaned and put your lips in his, not even nothing to pucker. You pulled away after a second, turning your face so he couldn’t see you laugh. “There. Happy now?”

He stared at you for a long time, the sandwich in his hand beginning to shake with rage.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked him.

“That couldn’t even be considered a peck. That was you bumping into my mouth with your mouth.” He argued.

“Tom.” You said sternly, warning him to back down.

“What?” He asked in exasperation, feeling like he was losing it. “Can you look me in the eyes and honestly tell me you considered that a kiss?”

“No. You know why? I don’t want to look at you at all. Don’t talk to me.” You flipped your hair, carefully grabbed your camera, and left the room. As soon as you were in the safety of your bedroom, you giggled into the camera.

“I can’t believe how worked up he’s getting. I told you guys. He hates pecks.” You said into the camera before setting it up facing the bed, just in case he came in.

Sure enough, Tom was knocking on the door less than twenty minutes later. You yelled for him to come in, and a very sheepish Tom holding a mug came in the room, shutting the door behind him.

“I made you this cup of tea as an apology.” He said, holding it out to you. You looked at him skeptically for a moment before taking the mug, sipping it slowly. He waited for your approval and once he got the nod, he sat down on the bed and pulled your feet into his lap, rubbing them absentmindedly.

“Have you learned your lesson?” You asked him as you sipped your tea.

“Yes. I’ve had a lot of time to reflect and I’ve decided that if you’re more comfortable with pecks, then I’ll learn to be comfortable too.” He said as he looked at you with his puppy dog eyes. You smiled at him and set the mug on the nightstand.

“Thank you.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a soft peck, making his face contort as he tried to hold back his opinions.

“What?” You asked innocently.

“I want a real kiss, baby doll.” He whined and leaned his forehead against yours. “Enough of this pecking nonsense.”

“You just said you were okay with it!” You playfully smacked his arm.

“I was fully telling you a lie.” He said so sincerely that it made you laugh.

“Tom.” You sighed and picked your mug back up.

“I’m not okay with it, okay? You’re my girlfriend and I love you. Kissing you is the best thing I get to do. It is my constitutional right as your boyfriend to get kisses. Not pecks, but kisses. With feeling and passion and our lips actually touching. Kissing is how I show you that I love you and that I’m proud of it. Don’t you get it?” He professed. Not knowing what to say in response to his outburst, you spoke without thinking.

“You don’t have constitutional rights.” You said simply. He didn’t. Not in the UK.

“Oh my God.” He groaned and put his head in his hands. “Fine. Fine. If kissing me is that horrible, I won’t force you to do it.” He grumbled.

“Listen to yourself! You’re whining like a baby over the fact that I’m not kissing you long enough! Actually, that’s not true. A baby wouldn’t be complaining about this.” You sassed him.

“Love-“ He began.

“No.” You interrupted him. “Some couples can’t even be together during this time. You and I are incredibly lucky to have each other right now. And if that’s still not enough for you, then I don’t know what to tell you. I’m sorry the world is ending and you’re not getting longer kisses.” You huffed. He was quiet for a minute and you wondered if it was time to end the prank.

“They’re not kisses.” He blurted, all in one breath. You looked at him with wild eyes and he shrink in his seat.

“Don’t say it.” You said through your teeth.

“They’re pecks!” He stated and ran out of the room. You looked at the camera with a “did your guys see that too?” expression on your face. You gave him a few minutes to cool off before deciding it was time to end the prank.

“Alright guys. Time for the finale.” You whispered to the camera as you stealthily set it up facing the couch, right where Tom was playing video games. He eyed you carefully as you sat down next to him, trying to see what mood you were in.

“Hi, baby doll.” He said softly, leaning into your touch as you rubbed his arm.

“Hi, Tommy. Whatcha doing?” You asked sweetly, leaning your head on his arm as he twiddled with the controller.

“Just playing PlayStation. I’m not really into it, though.” He said as he looked at you instead of the screen.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” You asked him.

“I think I made my girlfriend upset.” He said timidly. You laughed lightly and sat up to face him.

“That must be very hard on you.” You said sarcastically. Tom put his controller down and gave you an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry I insulted your kisses, Princess. Even if they were featherlight and shorter than a sneeze.” He said, making you laugh again.

“Are sneezes a common unit of measurement in the UK?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry. You can kiss me anyway you want. I’m lucky you want to kiss me at all.” He said, bringing your hands to his lips to kiss them.

“Aw. Thank you, Tommy.” You smiled at him and leaned in to give him a light peck. He kept his eyes closed after you pulled away and took a deep sigh.

“Interesting.” He stated, swallowing thickly.

“What’s wrong?” You asked with all the innocence you had left.

“Nothings wrong, I just thought my apology would be rewarded with a real kiss and not these fake little bitch kisses you keep giving me.” He sassed and your jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?” You laughed sharply.

“You’re not even kissing me! You’re just putting your lips on mine and pushing them off!” He shouted.

“That is kissing!” You yelled.

“No! It’s not!” Tom screamed back and licked his lips. He looked at you for a moment before grabbing your face and pulling you into a passionate kiss. He kissed you so hard, you could taste the stars on the tip of his tongue. He held your arms firmly (I know from experience that he does this) to keep you in place before cupping your face in his hands.

“That’s kissing.” He said when he pulled away, leaving you dizzy. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

You didn’t say anything, still reeling from the kiss he gave you. You could hear your blood rushing in your ears from how dazed you were.

“Have I ever told you why I hate pecks so much?” He asked quietly.

“No.” You shook your head, wondering where this was going.

“I hate them because they’re quick and short and stupid. What if something happened to one of us and our last kiss was just a peck? Can you imagine that? If the last time you got to kiss your soulmate was a two second, emotionless peck? I couldn’t stand that, love. And neither could you.” He said before sighing. “I know it’s not likely for us to lose each other in the blink of an eye, but it’s not impossible. And if anything like that ever happened, God forbid, and our last kiss was a peck? I can’t risk it. That’s why I hate them. That’s why I want real, long, passionate kisses.”

His sudden burst of emotion took you aback. His hatred of pecks was always something you took lightly, thinking it was just a silly preference of his. You never knew you had an reason behind it, a sweet reason at that.

“I didn’t know that, baby.” You frowned as you reached a hand back to play with the curls on his neck. “I’m sorry. I never would’ve done this prank if I had known.

“It’s okay. You know now.” He smiled gently and kissed the inside of your wrist. “Wait, prank?”

You smiled sheepishly and pointed to the camera.

“It’s the ‘giving my boyfriend who hates pecks nothing but pecks all day’ prank. Surprise.” You said weakly as Tom stared at your camera in surprise.

“That’s not a thing.” He said, finally looked back at you. He wasn’t mad, much to your relief. Just a little lost.

“It is now.” You smiled apologetically, and he had to smile back.

“Never do this again.” He warned. “But I’m glad you got your video.”

“And I’m glad I have a boyfriend who’s passionate about full length kisses.” You teased and pulled him into a real kiss this time. “And hey, I hate pecks too. I just wanna love up on you, boy.” You repeated his words form earlier and he grimaced.

“Did it sounds that bad when I said it?” He asked.

“Yes.” You nodded and kissed him again to show him just how sorry you were.

~

“Hi guys.” You waved to your camera. “Since you guys loved my prank on Tom last week, I decided to do another one. Now, the last one was a little mean so I figured we could change it up and do a nicer prank. What can I say, I’m like a sour patch kid. First I’m sour, then I’m sweet.” You winked. “I’m sure you’ve seen the Tik Tok challenge where you walk in on your boyfriend naked while he plays video games. Tom has been on the PlayStation all day but he just went to our room to play. I think it’s the perfect time to do it. Let’s go.”

You put your camera down and switched to your phone. You were already wrapped in nothing but a towel, suddenly feeling butterflies in your tummy as you prepared to pull the prank. You kept the camera on your phone pointed down as you left the bathroom and tip toed towards the bedroom, where Tom was. You bumped into Harry on the way, who gave you a judging look.

“It’s for my channel.” You whispered, clutching your towel tighter around your body.

“I gathered that.” He nodded. “While I am grossed out by what is about to happen, I admire your work ethic. Good luck.” He patted your shoulder and kept walking. Filled with confidence from Harry’s approval, you walked into your shared bedroom and threw the towel on the bed. He was shouting at Sam through the headset didn’t acknowledge your presence or hear the towel drop.

“Hi Tommy.” You said casually, keeping the camera pointed at his back.

“Hi…yie-yie-yie.” His jaw slacked as he finally turned to look at you. You giggled as his eyes widened “Sam, I have to go.” He stammered and scrambled to set his controller down.

“But we-“ Sam began.

“I have to go!” He said quickly and ripped the headset off. You raised an eyebrow at him and he hurried to turn the game off. You smiled sweetly at him and acted as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

“Hello.” He said formally, not even noticing the phone in your hands as he unapologetically checked you out. His eyes slowly made their way down, then up again, all while the tips of his ears pinkened.

“Hey.” You kept your face neutral, biting back a smile as his face flushed a deep red.

“You look nice.” He squeaked and cleared his throat.

“Do I?” You asked innocently. “I just threw this on.”

“Looks great.” He put his hands of his hips and let out a breathy laugh, biting his lip as he admired you.

“So for dinner, I was thinking we could heat up some-“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence before he was out of his chair and kissing you.

“I thought you hated my kisses.” You pulled away a little to tease him.

“Shut up.” He laughed against your lips before kissing you again. “Lock the door. Right now, and I mean it.”

Tag List 🏷

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[songbirdstyles]

baby

summary: you and harry figure it’s time for another baby. (or: breeding kink fic)

warnings: smut!! breeding kink. tad of fluff. 18+ pls

The blare of your phone’s alarm clock from your bedside table jolts you awake from the most magnificent dream you were having - reliving your honeymoon with Harry, taking your unconscious mind through the cities you’d visited and the things you’d seen. The streets of Italy, being bathed in sunshine at the beaches in the Bahamas, gazing up at the Eiffel Tower in France. It’s a memory you could bear to relive over and over again, and waking up doesn’t feel as jarring and depressing as it usually eo3w.

No, you woke up wrapped in Harry’s arms, feeling his even breathing against your back, his lips pressed to the back of your head. You fell asleep early last night, snuggled together watching a comedy special on Netflix, and he was out within minutes. His leg is slotted between both of yours and you can feel his morning wood against your back but you decide you’ll deal with that when he wakes up.

...which should be soon, as you reach over to turn off your alarm. He usually wakes up minutes after you leave his arms - which you do, now, sliding off the bed and padding to the bathroom - because he hates not sleeping next to you. It should be a problem but you find that you don’t mind - it’s not as though you hate having his arms around you, body pressed close to yours, listening to his soft snoring directly into your ear. (It used to bother you, but you’ve found that you quite like it now.) When he’s home, you two can’t get enough of each other, constantly having to be touching and falling asleep is no different. When he goes on tour he tries body pillows, weighted blankets, anything to alleviate his issue - but nothing compares to you in his arms.

Or Delaney, but Harry has always been vehemently against falling asleep with your 2 year old in your bed. Worried one of you will crush her during the night, or she’ll try and climb off the bed and fall (which has happened before, and you take the credit for it. But she was fine - toddlers are more durable than either of you thought) He’s always been the worrier of the two of you. He does, though, like holding her in his arms and cuddling with her while she naps, but he always puts her in her room when his eyes start to droop and he fears he’ll fall asleep.

As you take your morning pee and brush your teeth, you can hear his telltale morning groan from your bedroom that you’ve come to recognize throughout the years. A smile graces your face as you peek back into your bedroom, watching as he slowly sits up and squints out of the window at the morning rays on sunshine pouring into the room, then turns to make eye contact with you in the bathroom.

“G’morning, love,” he calls, voice raspy and deep like it always is in the morning. You can’t get enough of it. Just the tone of his voice like that is enough to make you want to jump him. “Is Laney up yet?”

You shrug, pausing to see if you hear her in her bedroom just across the hall. Generally when she wakes up before the both of you, you can hear her - her soft voice as she talks to herself. You pull your toothbrush from your mouth and lean over the sink to spit out your toothpaste. “I don’t think so. She’s starting to sleep in a bit more, I reckon. Doesn’t wake up at the crack of dawn every morning screaming her brains out, thank God.”

Harry chuckles, pressing his fists into his eyes as he yawns. “Didn’t think I would miss that too much.”

“You miss that?”

“Well, it’s not the thing I miss most about her being little, but…”

You take a swig of water and spit it back out, wiping your mouth off and padding back over to the bed. His hair is beyond messy, eyebrow hairs all up in different directions, and you swear you’ve never seen anyone so beautiful. He reaches out his hand to you immediately and you grab it, letting him pull you onto the bed. “Harry,” you laugh, feeling him tickle his fingers over your body. “She’s still very, very little.”

He hums, leaning down to press a kiss to the very tip of your nose. “Not very, very little. Just very little. But I miss her being very, very little.”

You roll your eyes with a grin, tugging on one of his curls. He yelps playfully, pressing his lips to yours and tugging on your bottom one ever so slightly before sitting back up. “I guess I do, too. I liked having a little baby. It was so surreal.”

“And scary.”

“And very scary,” you agree, sitting up onto your knees and crawling into his lap, straddling him with your arms around his neck. You bury your face into his neck, loving the feel of his arms wrapping around your waist, lips against your shoulder. 

For a moment you two just sit together, as close as you can possibly be, basking in the morning sunshine. Delaney always sleeps well on sunny mornings - when it storms, she’s up early, begging to sleep in your bed, and Harry always lets her, despite his qualms. He’ll stay awake for hours, watching his baby sleep, making sure she’s not scared. But when it’s nice and sunny, she sleeps well, and you cherish it.

Harry rests his chin on your shoulder, then, looking up at you with wide, twinkling eyes. “Baby.”

“Yeah?”

“I think we should have another baby.”

You pause, fingers freezing from where they’re combing through his tangled curls. “Harry,” you begin, voice soft, and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “I don’t know.” You don’t tell him why - because he’s doing so well in his career and you need all the help you can get with a toddler and a newborn - but he knows.

“No, no, honey.” he drops his hands to your hips. “I’m taking a break. I’ve arranged it with Jeff. A year long - maybe more. And even if we don’t get pregnant, I’ll still be here. With you and Laney, not in different countries, flying the pair of you out once a month. Because I don’t like that.” Then he pauses, squinting slightly. “I like seeing you guys, of course. But I know she doesn’t like flying, and you don’t like not having me home so I think -”

“Wait,” you interrupt him, placing your index finger across his lips. He puckers them, giving your digits a soft kiss. “You’re taking a break? For a year?”

“A whole year. And probably more.”

Slowly you breathe out, glancing up at the ceiling. You have been wanting to have the discussion about another baby but it had to be paired with asking for him to take a break but he did all that for you. So you move your finger from his mouth, a grin flashing across your face before you lean in, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Let’s have a baby, then.”

There’s not another moment of hesitation. He presses his hands against your cheeks and pulls you in for a searing kiss, tongues moving slowly against each other. You tangle your fingers in his messy curls, tugging just a bit and you can feel how much he likes it. It’s easy to get lost in the moment, just feeling his hands on yours and your hips slowly grind against his. You can pretend, briefly, like you have all the time in the world and you can just kiss for hours -

But the fact is, Delaney is asleep across the hall and you have no clue how long it’ll be until she wakes up. So you reach down and slide a finger through the slick slowly gathering in your panties. His hands slide to the top of your underwear, fingers rubbing at the lace fabric and you know what’s coming before he does it.

“Don’t you dare -” you warn, lips against the underside of his jaw, but it’s too late, and he tugs at the panties and rips them off.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, balling the fabric in his fist. He doesn’t sound all that apologetic, if you’re being truthful. “Can’t help it, love.”

“Better start helping it. I go through underwear like mad. The ladies at Victoria’s Secret must think I’m - I’m -”

Two of his fingers push themselves inside of you, scissoring immediately and hitting that spot right inside of you that you need. Your sentence crackles off into a moan, leaning in and pressing your lips to his neck, sucking hard enough to leave the dark purple hickeys that he loves and to keep your noises quiet.

Harry loves when you’re loud, and you love to be able to let every noise loose but both of you love Delaney being asleep more. When she’s at Anne’s or your mother’s for the night and you and Harry have the house all to yourself, though, the neighbors must think you’re being murdered with how loud you scream.

“The ladies at Victoria’s Secret think you’re what, hmm?” Harry speaks so casually, pressing his thumb against your clit with just enough pressure to make you squirm. 

“C - crazy. Crazy, probably.” your voice is barely above a breath, and you grind down on his fingers desperately. Hips roll against his hand, your breath coming out in soft pants.

He hums. “They’re just jealous - know they don’t have a man like me to please ‘em like this, right?”

Normally you’d roll your eyes at his cockiness but - well - he’s right. So you nod, nibbling on your bottom lip. “So right.”

You can practically feel the fuel igniting Harry’s ego, and he pulls his fingers out of your now dripping cunt - brings them up to your mouth and you open it eagerly, letting your tongue lap at your juices on his fingers. He loves when you do that, thinks it’s so fucking sexy. He stifles a groan watching as you wrap your lips around his digits, sucking slowly, maintaining eye contact before releasing them with a pop.

“God,” he mutters, leaning in to drag his tongue across your lower lip. “I fucking love you.”

“I fucking love you, too,” you tell him, reaching below you to grab his cock and align it with your pussy. You’re dripping enough that it doesn’t take much effort to slide onto him, loving the delicious fullness of it, how he hits every spot inside of you. The pair of you lock lips to stifle your groans and moans when he bottoms out, and when you pull away you look him in the eyes with a sickeningly sweet smile. “And I love fucking you.”

“Oh, god.” he laughs halfheartedly, bringing his hands down to knead your bum, letting you adjust to his size for a moment. His eyes squeeze shut as you pull off him and sink back down, the stretch nearly overwhelming you - like it always does. It doesn’t matter how many times you’re with Harry (and it’s been many, many times) he never fails to make you feel like it’s the very first. And now, with Delaney in the picture, you haven’t been having sex as much (though still significantly more than most people do without a kid.) Point being - you always need a minute to adjust to his size. “Oh, fuck, baby.”

Your lips suck another hickey into his neck, trying to muffle your desperate cries and whimpers as you sink up and down onto him, his hands on your ass helping set a steady pace. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, along with his occasional grunts as he thrusts his hips up into yours. Your nails dig into his back, hard and desperate and you know you’ll see the small crescent shaped marks in the shower later but you don’t care, and he doesn’t, either. He likes having marks of you on him - the hickeys on his skin and the marks on his body and he likes doing the same to you. He loves decorating your body with bruises and lovebites, watching them fade and then starting again.

“Know what I’m gonna do?” His voice is quiet and low, raspy. Mouth right by your ear. You have no choice but to listen. “I’m gonna fucking fill you up. Fill your - fill your pussy with my cum, force you to take all of it. I wanna watch it drip out of you and push it back in -”

You clench around him, sinking your teeth into his collarbone. 

“Fuck - and then - then I’m gonna do it again. Gonna fuck you again, so fucking fast and hard. Watch your belly swell with my baby.”

And his hand moves to your clit, pinching the small button and feeling you jump. You’re starting to slow down, legs growing tired but he won’t have that - he grabs your wrist and plants it on your clit, ordering you to make yourself cum, that’s a good girl - and grabs the back of your thighs, forcing you up and down.

You clench and unclench, clench and unclench, mouth opening in a silent scream as you finally reach your edge, tumbling over it and falling down the abyss of your orgasm. It’s desperate, your limbs tightening and body shaking, but Harry’s there - lips to your cheek - but he doesn’t let up, still forcing you up and down, forcing you to rock your hips, clit brushing against his pelvis. You’re already feeling the overstimulation but you won’t stop for anything.

“That’s a good girl, coming for me so good,” his voice slowly gets shakier as he speaks, like it always does in the seconds before he cums. “Want me to fill you up? Hmm? Want me to pump you full of my kids?”

You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek as he moves one hand to press your clit again. Staying silent and being fucked so good is a tragic duo but you wouldn’t have it any other way, now, because getting fucked so good and not waking up your baby is a beautiful duo.

“Tell me,” Harry hisses, nibbling on your earlobe. “Tell me how much you want it, how you want my baby. I need to hear it.”

Your legs tighten around his lap, jerking your hips into his hand, body exhausted from riding him for so long - all you want is to feel him release inside of you, to fill you up. “Please,” you beg, voice hoarse and desperate. “Wanna feel you cum inside me, baby, please, f - fill me up, get me pregnant -”

That’s all he needs to hear.

In a second you’re being flipped over onto your back, his hips pistoning into yours so fast you can hardly think straight - he grabs the headboard, the bed banging into the wall, and everything about being silent is forgotten. A loud moan falls out of your mouth and Harry is groaning, sweat beading up on his hairline. When his pace starts quivering again you finally let go for the second time - a more powerful orgasm overtaking you, from feeling Harry hit your sweet spot over and over, the thought of him filling you up enough to send you over the edge.

“Oh my god,” Harry groans, slamming his hips into yours and you can feel the warmth erupt inside your cunt, his head dropping down to yours as he finally releases inside of you. “Fuck, yeah. Take all my cum, babygirl.”

After a moment he pulls off of you and out of you, much to your dismay, but you’re much too exhausted to say anything to the contrary. He shifts down the bed and flops on his stomach, eye level with your cunt, legs spread wide for his viewing pleasure.

Your cheeks heat up as you look down at his amazed expression. He loves doing this, watching his cum seep out of you, and you’ll never understand. It’s almost embarrassing for you, but you know he loves it, so you reach down and trail your fingers through the cum dripping out of your pussy. You collect it on the tips of your fingers and push it back inside of you. When you pull your fingers out again you bring them up to your mouth, sucking his seed off your digits, and when you look back down into his eyes, they’re wide as saucers.

“You,” he begins, pushing himself onto his knees and grabbing your thighs to pull you toward him, “just earned yourself a round two.”

But the thought of a round two is interrupted by a loud sob piercing the air. You wince, dropping your head back onto the mattress with a groan. Of course, she’s awake - you two dropped the attempt to be quiet and you sorely regret it now.

“I got it,” he mutters, climbing off of you and heading to his dresser. As he grabs a pair of joggers and begins to tug them over his legs, he gives you a bright, cocky grin - “Besides, need you to be on your back so that baby sticks.”

[undyingskies]

Pregnancy Scare

Request: yes, “Hi! I never ask anyone for an imagine before so here's me shooting my shoot. Could you please write an imagine about the reader having a pregnancy scare? Maybe she's been feeling a bit sick and Owen makes a joke about her being pregnant and reader realize that she missed her period and the whole pregnancy scare while Owen is besides her supporting her no matter what. Thank you 💗”

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this one! I am hoping to have the Charlie fit out tomorrow, I am not sure yet but it is coming. I have a few more Owen requests to get done and I also have an idea for an Owen fic that maybe a two parter?? If people are into it! Thank you to everyone who has been liking my posts, following me, and sending requests! xoxo

Warnings: Brief mention of sex and moments of anxiety, but other than that it’s mostly just some fluff! 

—————————————————

It has been days. Days and days and days of feeling like complete and udder garbage. You couldn’t even turn in your bed without having nausea hit you like a truck.

As many days you haven’t been feeling well is the same amount of days you haven’t left your house and barely spoken to anyone.

You didn’t meant to ghost anyone, especially Owen your boyfriend, but you felt so gross that doing anything but sleep just seemed way too difficult. You just wanted this to end, you wanted to feel normal again.

You hear your front door open and you panic a little but then you hear your boyfriends voice. A smile forming on your face, you did miss him.

“Y/N where are you?? I decided that you couldn’t ignore me if I was here with you.” You hear him chuckle and he makes his way into your room. Practically busting the door open, the sound of it hitting the wall causing you to wince.

Did you mention that on top of the constant nausea, you always had a migraine to just top it off.

Owen notices you wincing and immediately feels bad. He knows you’ve had a migraine for days now and he think to himself that he should have been more careful.

“Aw baby, I’m sorry. I forgot for a second buuuut I do have some medicine for you. I have caffeine pills that will hopefully help with the migraine, as well as advil. I also brought a heating pad for your stomach and some ginger ale too.” He tells you, sitting beside you on your  bed. He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead.

“You don’t feel warm or like you have a fever so that must be a good sign.” He tells you.

“I guess, I don’t know what’s going on though.” You tell him moving to sit up and face him. Which was a mistake, a big one. The minute you moved your whole head started to spin and you felt your stomach turn.

You look at Owen panicked. You push him out of your way, your feet landing on the cold floor, taking you to the bathroom as fast as they could. You reach the toilet just in time as your stomach empties itself into the porcelain bowl.

Your stomach continued to empty itself, which is shocking because you’ve barely eaten anything the last few days. Your throat burning and you’re left sitting by the toilet heaving.

You miss Owen coming in the bathroom and sitting beside you on the floor. He has one hand pulling your hair out of your face and the other gently rubbing circles on your back hoping it would help you calm down.

It takes a few minutes for you to calm down and catch your breath again. You push yourself up a little and your back comes in contact with your tub, offering you some support to lean on. You pull your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around them. You let your head rest on top of them.

You peak up at Owen and give him the biggest smile you could muster. Which quite frankly is pathetic, which causes him to laugh a little.

He moves again to sit next to you, pulling your body into his side. You lean your head on his shoulder. The two of you just in silence for a little.

“Are you feeling any better now Y/N?”

“I guess, still feel super nauseous.” You tell him. “It’s been so many days now; I just want it to be over.”

“Dude maybe you’re pregnant!” Owen says laughing, thinking his joke would lighten the mood.

That’s when it hits you and it hits you like a truck. Pregnant. Oh my god. You didn’t even realize it but you haven’t had your period this month. How could you not realize that? You start to panic; how could you be so stupid? How did you not notice? You feel your thoughts spiraling.

“You okay baby? What’s going on in that head of yours.” Owen asks you now worried because of the look on your face. He moves your face to look right at him.

“I...I missed my period this month. I didn’t even realize until you just said that. Owen, I could be pregnant!” You say panicked, looking at his face carefully and seeing a similar panicked look come across his face.

“What do you mean Y/N? That can’t be, we haven’t had sex in a while. The last time was...”  He trails off and realization hits the both of you.

The last time you guys had sex was on a night out. You both had a few too many drinks and were left giggly and touchy all night. You’re usually both so good at using protection but due to the level of intoxication that night, neither of you were quite sure if you did use it or not.

“Okay, okay. So it is possible.” You say, more panic setting in at this realization. Owen can tell how freaked out you are, between the two of you, you’re usually the one to calm the situation down. This time it has to be him. He grabs both your hands in his.

“Look at me baby. It’s going to be okay, you and I, we will get through this. Let’s just take a breath in and out and calm down first, okay?” He says making direct eye contact with you and breathing in sync with you. You nod and breath with him for a few seconds.

“What are we gonna do O? What if I am pregnant?” You ask, worry setting in again.

“If you’re pregnant then you’re pregnant and we’re gonna be parents. It’s you and I baby. I have your back no matter what.” He tells you with a smile, your nerves slowly starting to calm down.

“How about this, you take a nice warm shower and I will go buy some tests. Do you feel good enough to get in there? I think it’ll help you calm down and feel better.” He asks you. You nod your head yes.

Owen is quick to grab you by your hands and help you stand up. He goes to turn the water on and letting it run so it can get warm for you. He turns to help you pull your sweatshirt, well his sweatshirt, over your head. He leans down to give you a kiss and help you step into the warm water.

Your stress washing down the drain with the water.

“I’ll be right back baby. Take your time and relax okay. I promise it’s nothing to get too worked up over, remember it’s you and I no matter what.” He leans into the shower to give you a kiss goodbye. Then he’s on his way to the store, a blush on his cheeks as he has to purchase pregnancy tests from a stranger.

You let the warm water caress your skin, trying to calm your thoughts down. You can’t help but let them wonder. Owen just started his career, a family would get in the way of that, besides your both still so young, you don’t even live together yet. How is adding a baby to that going to help? Well it’s not going to help, you think.

Sobs start to wrack through your body as you let your intrusive thoughts take over your mind. You don’t know how long you were in the shower or how long Owen was gone but the water started to get cold.

Owen stepped into the apartment and he immediately heard your sobs. He quickly runs into the bathroom and turns the water off. He pulls you out of the shower and wraps the towel around your body, helping warm you up again.

He has your body so close to his, that you couldn’t possibly get closer. He’s placing soft kisses to your head and whispering sweet nothings into your ear hoping to help you calm down.

He hears your sobs quieting down and your breathing start to return to normal.

“What happened baby? When I left you were doing fine.” He asks you worried again.

“I just started thinking about it all. Owen you just started your career, a baby, a family would get in the way of that! Plus we’re so young, how could we manage a family this young? And to top it off we don’t even live together yet, I don’t want a baby forcing us to move in together or force us to move faster than we want too.” You spew out, feeling a little better now that you got everything you were feeling out.

A little nervous at Owen‘s reaction. He places his hands under your chin and has you look at him.

“Baby I told you, it’s you and me. No matter what. None of that stuff matters, my career will be fine. A family and a baby would not ruin that in any way. And yes, we’re young but who cares, we would be able to handle it. A baby would not force us to move faster than we want too, I love you with my whole entire heart Y/N. Maybe it is time to start moving forward.” He tells you maintaining eye contact the whole time. You smile at his words and lean in to kiss him.

“How about you take the test now?” He says placing the box in your hand. He leaves the bathroom and closes the door behind him.

Moment of truth you think to yourself as you open the box and prepare to pee on that little stick.

You set a timer for two minutes and make your way out of the bathroom to sit next to Owen on your bed. Owen has another idea though and pulls you to sit on his lap. You tighten the towel around you and he snuggles his head into your neck.

You breath in and just enjoy this moment with Owen. His hot breath on your neck and his thumbs rubbing small circles on the exposed skin of your legs.

He’s right, it really is him and you, since the moment you guys got together. He has always had your back and never faltered either, you doing the same for him. The love you guys have for each other is that once in a lifetime type of love. You feel your nerves calm down yet again at your thoughts but they spike up once again at your alarm blaring.

Owen lifts his head to look at you.

“Guess this is it.” He says to you, grabbing your hand and you both make your way into the bathroom and to the sink. Your test placed upside down on the sink.

You look at each other and take a deep breath in as you move to flip the test over.

*Not Pregnant*  it reads. A sigh of relief leaving both of your lips. You turn to look at each other and laugh a little.

“Is it bad that I am relieved?” He asks you, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“No, not at all because same.” You tell him and lean in to give him a kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist.

“Thank you for being so sweet and the calm one throughout this.”

“Of course baby. Like I said the whole time it’s you and me, no matter what.” He leans in to give you a sweet kiss, all your negative and nervous thoughts fading at his words and lips on yours.

You really were so lucky to have him.

“Now how about that moving forward thing we were talking about. Maybe it is time to move in together?” He asks you his tone full of hopefulness.

“I think that’s a great idea.” You say smiling up at him. He leans in for another kiss.

You were now moving in with the love of your life and you could not be happier. The future was bright for the two of you.

[tojakku]

✶ - sugarplums and stardust 

pairing: fpopstar! reader x arc trooper fives                                            summary: you, sugarplum, galaxy-wide adored popstar. fives, galaxy-wide renowned idiot.                                                                                  warnings: rated m for mature! this chapter includes: smut (18+), oral (female receiving), dirty talk, implied rough sex, pee pee in v, the beauty of checking up on your partner, mature language... a hot clone trooper, flirtation... alcohol... etc... fives being a little slut 

THE BARRACKS ARE ALMOST ENTIRELY QUIET. Almost. The centre of Coruscant never quite escaped from the thrum of late-night traffic, or the sing of the planet throbbing right below their feet, through canals and chambers and pipes of sewers crawling with scrap rats. 

Sometimes too much silence wasn’t good for Fives’ brothers. Sometimes it made them more restless, tossing and turning before eventually leaving to the gym, to push weights and punch bags until their tiredness had them collapsing on the mats. It was an uneasy and unpredictable world in the barracks- right where it should be predictable and easy.

The 501st are on shore leave along with a good handful of other battalions, a couple from the Inner Rim, the 13th Battalion from Sullust, even Wolffe and Cody were sticking around somewhere. Fives, although he was meant to be raving and silly and wild, was feeling a little… well, he hadn’t eaten much at dinner.

Something about the last campaign on Bothawui, a second, months after the first, and being soaked through with blood and gunfire, had just dulled him a little. Maybe he just needed sharpening.

He muscles his helmet in his hands, trudging down the main corridor through the barracks. There were separate rooms inside now, the one he shared with the rest of Rex’s squadron far at the end. The lights, although top of the range, working perfectly, were too bright, flickering off the durasteel of the walls, the floors, the ceilings. Fives wrinkles his nose. Too bright.

There’s the slightest shimmer of music, though, and for a brief fleeting moment, Fives is convinced it’s coming from outside, from Coruscant, but when he pushes through into his part of the barracks, his stomping ground, he stops still.

Now, the 501st have always been fans of partying, music, drinks, cantinas, women, but Maker, Fives was not expecting four full-grown men huddled around a datapad, nodding their heads to a silvery voice accompanied by a thrumming beat. He didn’t expect, either, the harsh shushing he receives from an irritated Kix.

The medic holds up a hand and starts rabbiting on to Jesse, perched on his left on the bunk, leaning his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Damn batchmates. 

“See? She’s amazing,” Kix mutters, gesturing at the datapad. “She was on the radio the other day, little Tano said something about her and I looked into it.” Fives tosses his helmet on the opposite bunk and takes a peek at what exactly they’re watching.

Oh.

A popstar. Shimmying. Rather precariously. 

She’s all clad up in pale, pastel lavender, her cheeks dusted in a thin film of shimmering pink, her mouth painted a matching shade. She’s even got this wild, bright yellow hair. Kix takes a wary glance at Fives before angling the screen a little more.

“Sugarplum.” 

“She’s some babe from the Core Worlds, a superstar,” Hardcase supplies, chewing on a bar of some unidentifiable substance with a grin. “Hot,” he comments, when she turns to wink at the camera.

“What is this?” Fives asks, leaning heavily on the bunk. Her shimmering, glittery skin seems to just seep through the datapad with every shift, shimmy and spin. 

“She’s doing concerts all over Coruscant in the next few days. Then Corellia, then the other ecumenopoli.” Echo speaks as if it’s common knowledge. Fives scowls at his twin, shoving his shoulder with a hand. 

Kix swipes left on the datapad and suddenly a rather risque picture flashes up, Sugarplum’s tongue out, her eyes rolled back. A ripple of chaos from the boys as they try to cover the datapad, and a roar of laughter from Hardcase when the pad goes flying over their heads.

“What the fuck?”

“That is not my datapad, I swear-”

“Yeah, it’s Tup’s!” 

“No, no, it’s definitely ‘Case’s.”

Fives snorts, throwing himself onto his bunk, listening, happily, to his brothers bicker.

“Want to bet she wants a piece of clone ass?” A murmur of dissent and discern when Jesse speaks follows- Fives struggles not to burst into a laugh. The cog-faced trooper looks down in embarrassment when he’s knuckled into a headlock. “Come on!”

“Yeah, maybe she does, but we weren’t going to say that!” A pause. “It’s practically gospel truth all of the beautiful ladies want a piece of us.”

The door busts open again, on four troopers in a pile, and Fives, beaming happily away on his bunk. It’s Rex, ole’ Captain, and he looks once at the pile, once at Fives, before moving into the barracks, silent as night- not on Coruscant, silent somewhere else.

Fives wriggles under his Captain’s gaze, uneasy. Sometimes he made him uneasy when he didn’t talk, didn’t even greet them. Sometimes it meant the end of shore leave. Fives swallows, stuffing the panic hard down in his stomach to edge himself along the bunk with a little more formality. Rex catches his gaze.

“You lot looking at Sugarplum again?” There’s an uproar of disagreements, denials and something else, just Jesse relenting with a sigh. Fives stuffs a fist against his mouth, trying to contain his laughter at the four troopers fumbling over each other, even as Rex stares, unimpressed. 

“Yeah,” Fives mutters. “They were, but we saw some of Hardcase’s secret bank and they threw the-” A pillow hits him square in the face. “Hey!” 

“You guys are bad as cadets,” Rex huffs, laughing softly, bringing his datapad up. He looks more tired than usual, rings under his eyes.

“You tired, Rex?” Kix asks, suddenly fluttering into medic-mode. He touches Rex’s forehead with the back of three fingers and draws an amused sigh from the Captain. Fives watches over the edge of his fist. If something’s wrong with Rex, that means no drinking themselves into inhibition later that night. 

“Better not be! We’re out tonight,” Jesse knocks his hand on Rex’s shoulder as he throws himself up from the bunk. “And I’m dreaming of beating Commander Wolffe in a drink-down this time. This time.”

“Don’t you say that every time, vod?” Hardcase levels a gaze back at the now-scowling Jesse. 

“What clubs do you think Sugarplum goes to?”

“Those glitzy ones on the upper levels, probably, the ones suspended in the air,” Rex joins in then, making weird shapes with his hands. “You’ve seen.” A moment of silence. “Okay, well, the General told me they sell sunfruit liquors there for five credits a shot.”

“Is it supposed to be better than the shit they sell us at 79’s?”

“Who fucking knows.”

“The General, apparently-”

“Kenobi was the one who told him.” 

Another round of laughs. Fives sighs, smiling, before wrestling Echo into a headlock.

“Ready to get out-drunk tonight, brother?” A shove, a scoff, then a grin. “You better be. You owe me three drink runs.”

“Three?” 

“Three, vod, three. For the last time I saved you.” Echo shakes his head, pushing a hand through his dark hair- same as them all, deep down. “Three.”

“Two.”

Fives laughs, bumping forearms with his brother. Echo knocks his temple against Fives’ and a moment of softness breaks the twins’ bickering.

“Fine, two.” 

Fives never could refuse his batchmate. 

-

You weren’t, and never will be, completely keen on Coruscant. Too much… difference. No, it’s not that, it’s just the deep tunnels into the ground and the rumours you hear sometimes, through your girls, through… well, anywhere.

‘Disease grows twofold as the lower levels of Coruscant are ignored for a Senate sickness’, or ‘The lower levels of Coruscant- most dangerous place in the galaxy?’. No, of course not. There’s police, you stupid news writer.

You pick idly at your nails, smoothing your thumbs over each metallic-blue painted tip to soothe your nerves. 

Eva and Lirisa had planned for a club outing tonight. The concert earlier had gone perfectly fine, just amazing, really. Everything was on point, the dancing, the singing, the backup vocals, the crowd… it still tingles on your skin like a second skin. The thrill would never hit any different.

You’re hidden away in your dressing room back in your apartment, slumped over a chair like a swooning lady. Lirisa is fixing her hair around her three little head horns, a bright, vivid purple like her skin, frowning in the mirror over your shoulder. She catches your gaze after a moment, face folding into concern.

You stretch out in the plum velvet chair, legs in fluffy slippers spreading when she gets that look. That look meant questions.

“Why are you so down?” You frown, shaking your head, returning your gaze to the datapad in your hands. A news article about you paints the screen. Lirisa looks down, once, twice, realises, and snatches your chin away from it. “Stop reading it if it’s bad.”

“It’s not bad. It’s good.” She pouts, letting you go with a soft pat to the shoulder. You shuffle uncomfortably in your feather-trimmed robe, the sheer material not offering much of a comfort in the face of a wide-open balcony window a few paces away.

Eva appears seconds later, looking plump and perfect in her eye-snatching candyfloss pink minidress, feet hidden in peculiar fur-cuffed ankle boots. She shifts, eyes ducking against the ground, her tattoos across her nose, little black diamonds against pale green skin, vivid and stark. 

“Oh, wow!” You exclaim, turning the spinning chair with a free hand. Lirisa squeals, rushing forward to tug at the hem of the dress, pulling the daring v-neck even lower. Eva hisses, batting away her friend’s hands.

“Don’t pull it down that far!” 

“I wasn’t!” 

A giggle and a sigh, then attention flickers back towards you. Your gut drops when they rush forwards, springing upon your wardrobe like it was their job- well, it was, but that doesn’t matter. There’s two options for dresses and you’ve already made your decision. A deep blue second skin, a dress that shimmered like a starlit night under the right light. The front was a simple scooped neck, low enough that your cleavage could make a gasp for breath, but not low enough you’d be recognised for a sleaze. The back is a square of sheer material until your hips, a little more than daring, a little less than risque, perfect for a night of dancing and drinking. 

There were even little silver stilettos in the corner. 

“No one will recognise me in blue, so stop trying to find other dresses,” you chide. “I’ve already made my decision.” A pout from Lirisa doesn’t move your hard-as-steel expression. Sometimes the Theelin girl had the ability to actually change your mind, but now, you sit there, waiting patiently for her to stop sulking. “Are we still going to that… um, that bar?”

“‘That bar’,” Eva mocks, turning you sharply to the mirror to start fiddling with your hair. It rests, untouched, until she starts pulling it up. “The clone bar.”

“Are we even going to be allowed in?” Eva nods, twisting a coil of hair around her finger. It’s not the same electric yellow it was on stage- the wig was long gone. “Who have you bribed this time?” You grin, glancing at her in the mirror. She shakes her head, disgusted at the pure suggestion of bribery. 

(Wouldn’t be the first time she had… well, Eva had once tried to bribe a club bouncer with a tray of meiloorun fruit.)

“I heard from a reliable source in the GAR offices that a whole bunch of sexy, all-too-willing clones are on shore leave.” You sigh, tugging on a forlorn strand of hair. Eva grabs your shoulder, firmly. “Don’t pull, your hair is almost done.”

“Shouldn’t I get my dress on first?”

“You’ll only spill blumfruit juice on it.” You scowl. “And we’re leaving in twenty minutes, standard. I already called a speeder for us.” 

“No paps?”

“No paps.” A pat on your shoulder and you relax. “Anyway, we’re going to have fun tonight!” Lirisa moves around in the background, now clad head to toe in what looks like skin-tight purple leather. She smiles, fondly, smoothing down a crease at her hip. The neckline plunges low below her sternum, but she acts as if she’s wearing Jedi robes with a swish and a sashay. You redirect your eyes when you get a rather tasteful flash of sideboob. “Looking good, Liri.”

“Thank you!”

“Is it a new suit?” A pause, a shrug. “Is it from my wardrobe?” You ask, eyebrow cocked in question. She nods, coyly smiling. “Fair enough.”

“Huh! If I took that you’d scream at me.”

“No, because I’d never confidently display so much sideboob at a club, Eva,” you mutter. Eva ponders it for a moment, but agrees, nodding. “Exactly.”

“Well, let’s just get to the club first, then we’ll decide how much ‘sideboob’ you’ll display after a few drinks.”

-

If there was one thing Eva was right about, it was the abundancy of rather good-looking men in the same place. Getting in had been easy- just flutter your lashes at the Coruscant guard on the door, he’d step aside and let you straight in with promises of a kiss later. 

Inside was beautiful, purple and blue lights swinging low from a long-greyed ceiling, huge yellow holograms with all manner of languages on them- news, nunaball, flashes of the GAR-droids, the ones that present it. Then, even a flicker of your own face. A familiar beat begins thrumming ten steps into the bar.

Eva barks a laugh, hooking her pale green arm through yours, tugging you closer towards the bartender. She starts ordering shots in a rapid call, smiling politely at the droid behind it. You lean an elbow on the bright, turquoise counter, relishing in the sultry high notes of one of your latest tunes. Lirisa throws her arms around your waist, humming softly.

“Three.” Eva holds up her fingers. “Thank you.”

You flex your hands under the glow of a green-yellow menu. It’s fascinating, being suspended in a place like this and being able to take your eyes off the crowd for just a moment without being scared of being hustled. Eva touches your shoulder momentarily, her usual gesture of reassurance.

Your gaze slips from the bar- it’s fascinating, yes, but more fascinating are the similar faces flashing around you. Each one the same, but slightly different. Silver hair, shaved head, tattooed, long hair, dark hair, pale hair, wider smile, careful gaze. You wet your lips and catch the gaze of a trooper a few seats down.

He’s broad, like the rest of his brothers, but something else settles about him like a halo. Dominance, confidence. He’s got one cybernetic eye, too, but the gruffness of his expression as he moves from his seat has your eyes fixated.

Suddenly, you catch another gaze of another set of troopers some ways away.

Huddled in a booth, an entire squad is staring right at you. With a startled huff, you cross your legs, tugging gently on Lirisa’s leather sleeve.

“I think I’ve been made.”

“Where?” She looks over your shoulder, brown eyes searching against the near-darkness of the club. She raises an eyebrow, slowly. “Oh. Just troopers, it’s okay. They won’t bother you.” You frown, interlocking your fingers and moving, slowly, to lean awkwardly against the counter. Their gazes reside on your back, sticky like syrup, until someone speaks roughly at your side.

“You’re not a clone.” 

You turn, matching the gaze of the gruff man from before. A glance over his armour tells you nothing- great. He’s patched in a pale, unforgiving black, and he moves, tilting his body to rest on the countertop. 

“No,” you murmur. “I suppose I’m not.” Your fingers go immediately to your necklace, a thin chain of silver studded with transparent stones, to tug. It’s a habit. The trooper looks at you for a long moment, dark eye and silver eye roving until he smiles, a little. Something tells you smiling isn’t normally what he’s used to. “Is that a good thing?” A look through your lashes and a splutter of drink from Eva over your shoulder has you struggling to hold in a laugh. 

The man’s eyes flit to the screens, then back to you.

“Is that you?” You purse your lips, glancing at the hologram. “Nice.” Nothing else is added before he prepositions: “Want to dance?”

It’s only a moment after he offers his name, ‘Wolffe’, that you agree, letting him lead you to a writhing pack of men, clones and civvies, a few girls of all species. Your fingers thread through his and with a giggle, you sit your drink- a sunfruit cocktail- now finished, on an empty table. A rivulet of excitement ripples through your stomach when he tugs you firmly to his chest, roving a strong-fingered hand over the small of your back.

He asks a soft ‘this okay?’, but you’re too far flushed with music and finally, relaxation. You throw your arms around his neck and sway to the upbeat bass. A few more moments and your head drops back with a soft sigh, Wolffe’s fingers catching against the thin seam where the sheer material turns back into oil-slick silken fabric. Your breath hitches.

“Never did get your name,” he huffs, nose brushing yours. You sigh, smiling politely.

“They call me Sugarplum,” you murmur, letting his hands on your hips move you a little more vigorously to the disco-beat. Wolffe grins, wolfish, before flipping you around, a hand flattening against your stomach. 

The music continues, and you continue to let Wolffe roam his hands along your midriff until he’s heaving heavy breaths in your ear and becoming slowly less dancer-like. You had to admit, the clones seemed like they were lithe bands of silk ready to snap, but you were dying for a drink.

When the song starts to pulse out in favour of a quicker, sharper tone, you slide your hands against his and softly remove them.

“I need a drink,” you shout over the music. He swipes a hand over his sweat-stricken hair and nods, dropping himself into a booth. “Thanks for the dance.” You brush your lips against his cheek and dart through the crowd, desperately searching for a flicker of pink, or purple. Luckily, Lirisa’s still at the bar, pressed against it by someone in red armour, perhaps, but there nevertheless, and smiling, sober. “Liri and… friend.”

“This is Thire,” she calls, patting his hand. “Coruscant Guard.”

“Fancy.” You stare at him for a moment, trying to decide on his intentions when he gives the brightest, sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. You feel your cheeks rush with heat. “Nice to meet you.”

“Plum,” Lirisa mutters. “How was your dance?”

“Oh, fine… you know me…”

“What, a prude?”

“No!” You bat her arm with a hiss. “Picky.” You flag down for another drink, dumping a pile of credits on the counter. Thire’s brows skyrocket, his face a portrait of shock when the droid picks through and takes only what’s needed. “Oh, I don’t know the prices…”

“That’s a lotta’ credits.”

Lirisa tilts his chin with one long, lavender finger and captures his mouth, eyes settling on you with a meaningful look. You swipe the credits up, dumping them back in the little silver shoulder bag she’s got on the counter. Oops.

You hear yourself in the speakers again.

“Huh. Whoever’s DJ-ing has nice taste.” Lirisa pulls away from Thire after a long moment, her lipstick a little smudged, but with a warm smile, Thire swipes it back into place. “Thank you, baby doll.” Thire darkens. “I’ve always liked ‘Popgloss’.” 

“It’s not my best,” you murmur, eyes fluttering with shyness. 

“This is you?” Thire asks, gesturing at the screen. You look at yourself, bearing a bright, fluorescent blue wig and matching lipstick. “That’s you?” He huffs a laugh of surprise. “Nice lipstick.”

“Thank her,” you reply, jabbing a thumb in the Theelin’s direction.

The droid slides a new drink over. You frown, staring at it. The glass is literally glowing, a white-ish liquid simmering inside. 

“Courtesy of the 501st, ma’am.” The droid trundles away and you stare at the bright blue liquid with a smile. 

“Boys in blue, huh?” Thire looks at the drink, then back at Liri with hooded eyes. “That looks like a mist-cocktail.” He turns, glancing over his shoulder towards where you’d seen the table staring at you. You follow his gaze, but only a few troopers remain. One of them raises a hand in a two-fingered salute, though. You smile coyly, waving in return. 

With a careful touch, you raise the glass to your mouth and take a sip. It’s warm, warm down to your toes, and tastes amazing.

“Tastes great,” you say, a little surprised. “I should go thank them.”

“No, you should leave them waiting, maybe they’ll come up to you!” You scowl, shaking your head. Another sip of your drink and you turn, walking swiftly towards the table where only three troopers remain out of what was a lot more. One with long hair, another with lines tattooed down his face, grinning roguishly, and the last with a buzzed, blonde cut. 

“Um, I just wanted to say thank you for the drink.” You fiddle with the draw, lashes fluttering of their own command. All three troopers are staring, two at your face, and the other quite firmly at your legs. “And, well… thank you for fighting. Your service,” you murmur, suddenly taken aback with shyness. Come on, superstar personality! Make your appearance.

The blonde grins.

“You’re welcome. On both counts.” His demeanour is remarkably similar to that of the Wolffe from earlier. Perhaps a Commander. “We’re quite enjoying your music tonight.” You chew idly on a thumb, smiling bashfully. “And we enjoyed Wolffe’s poor attempt at dancing.”

“Oh!” You snort. “He wasn’t that bad!” Eyes follow your hips as they turn, swaying back and forth as you try to plant yourself firmly and more confidently at one side of the round table. “Um, well, thank you anyway.”

“Thank you, Sugarplum.”

You make a wild getaway before you can embarrass yourself further or faint in the lap of the blonde, who was staring a little too sharply for your taste. The music seems to pulse louder with every step you get back to Lirisa, who is now firmly shoved against the counter and smothered by Thire’s mouth. Eva is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Eva?”

“She ran off with a Twi’lek lady.” 

You smile, huffing a chuckle of disbelief, leaning forwards to finish your drink in two more sips, when slowly, you notice a presence approaching you from the side.

Hands, well-defined, lined with veins and a few here-and-there scars, draw your attention like an industrial magnet. His skin is bronze, a dark, deep gold, like his brothers, but he plants his weight on the bar and clears his throat softly before speaking.

“Hey,” he says, voice low, dark. You swallow, hard, turning your head. He’s quite a face. He’s got quite a face- sorry, he’s… got quite a face. Right below his hairline, there’s a little ‘5’ tattoo, nestled there, inked in night-black. You take another sip of your drink for courage.

Alone, it’s easier.

“Hello.” Your voice is a little uneasy, but the trooper smiles, his eyes shining with politeness. Your eyes flutter shut when another one of your songs bursts through the speakers, but the trooper’s grin only grows.

“I’m not boring you, am I?” 

“No! No, sorry, I’m just… I don’t know.” His smile softens at the corners, less devilish, and he shifts his weight, spine arching with the movement. You let your gaze flicker along his lithe body, contained in blue-stained armour. ‘Boys in blue’, Thire had said. “Oh! You sent me the drink… it’s delicious.”

“Yeah? One of my favourites.” He moves a hand back through his dark hair, eyes ducking for a brief second, before meeting yours once more. You feel your chest swoop and you smile, wide, wider than usual. “Fives.” He offers a hand, a handshake, and you accept it, only for him to flip your wrist. His lips ghost your knuckles. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“You can call me Plums,” you supply. “That’s what all my friends call me.”

“Friends?” A coy, cocked brow. Your chest flutters and you nod, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. You’ve probably got dark lipstick all over your teeth by this point, but the way Fives poses the question has you suddenly not-so-bothered. Lirisa’s knuckles jabs your spine twice, a signal. You’re pretty much alone now. She’d bring Thire back to her apartment, two floors under yours, and Eva was wherever that Twi’lek took her. “We like your music in the barracks.”

“Oh? Thank you,” you murmur, gazing into the bottom of your glass. “I wish you could all come to one of my concerts, that’s the only place I sound good sometimes. My studio stuff is a little-” 

He suddenly tilts your chin with the knuckle of his finger, still grinning brightly.

“Don’t want to lose my beautiful view.” You chew helplessly on your lip, chest releasing a sort-of sigh, more like a swooning hum. “And I like both. All of it. The boys were playing a couple clips of your concert today.”

“Really?” You fiddle with the stem of your glass, not letting your eyes drop from his face, chiselled and kind, warm. 

“Yeah. I like the pink, but if I’m honest, I like this blue on you even better.” He taps your lower arm, where the sleeve ends at your wrist. “We’re matching, see?” He gestures at his blue-painted armour. You suddenly smile, nerves dissipating. 

“Seems like we are.” A smile shared, and Fives shifts forwards. His fingers skim your waist as he signals the droid for another drink. “You want me drunk or something?”

“How many have you had?”

“I can handle another. For you.” He raises a brow, eyes suddenly narrowing with a wild grin. “I suppose.” You rest a hand against his chestplate and he huffs a noise of near-surprise, before taking your fingers in his. He brushes his mouth against them and thanks the droid when he appears with another mist-cocktail, no, two. “What are these even made from?”

“Good question,” he murmurs, taking a long sip of his. You stare at him, unabashedly, for a moment, watching the light flicker through his long lashes, then the twitch of his mouth when he realises you’re staring. “Something you like?”

“You have the most beautiful profile I’ve ever seen,” you gush, turning his head with the tips of your fingers, smiling. His breath comes out in a slow whirl when you slide a fingertip down the bridge of his nose. “Like a statue. One of those ones on Naboo in the big fancy halls.”

“You callin’ me handsome?”

“I’m calling you more than that.” 

He takes another long drink of his cocktail and you follow, letting it warm your stomach. You glance at his blue armour, touching the lines of his arm.

“Boys in blue?”

“501st Legion.” He bows his head. “At your service, I’m certain. In fact, half the GAR will probably fall at your feet, princess.” You smile, sheepish. “Don’t be so unsure of yourself,” he murmurs, touching a curl of fallen hair at your temple.

“Who said I was unsure? Maybe I’m just faltering in the sheer radiance of your beauty.” Fives laughs, a low rumble in his chest, finishing his drink in one swallow. “501st… are you a Commander?”

He shakes his head with a smile.

“ARC-trooper. Advanced Recon Commando.”

“Oh? So… elite of the elite?” Fives’ eyes flutter, sliding over your features in one long, languid sweep. “Am I stroking your ego?”

“I’d much rather you stroke something else.”

You hum, head turning. You want to pretend the crude line has made you suddenly disgusted, but when he fastens a hand around your waist, you’d rather fall into him, onto him, onto him. He radiates energy. 

“Can you kiss me now?”

His eyes widen, at least a little, and he smiles, eyes lidded, gaze smokier than a Sullust sunrise.

“Can I kiss you? That can be arranged.”

Fives leans, capturing your lips in a soft, chaste kiss. He tastes of cocktails and fruit and something else sharper, darker, but you don’t care. It’s suddenly rather hard to care as he brushes a thumb along your ribs and leans you back further. Your chest hisses a content sigh when he tilts your chin, pulls back, then takes your mouth a little harder. 

He’s soft as silk for a soldier with calloused hands, his touch careful, hesitant until you moan quietly into his mouth and he touches his tongue against the seam of your lips. You let your jaw open, and he slides his tongue along your teeth, grins, then groans when your hips cant into his. 

“Fives, do you want… do you want to come to my apartment?” He huffs, almost as if he can’t believe his luck, mouth shining with moisture. His head dips, claiming your lips once more like he’s got unfinished business there. 

His thumbs ripple over the creases in the dress at your hips, his index, middle, ring finger pressing into your ass, pulling you closer. He knows how to work himself, that’s for sure. You shudder, one hand threading into his hair, the other fastening firmly around his bicep like a vice. He slides his tongue into your mouth and sucks at your bottom lip with a chuckle. You muffle a choked whine, desire suddenly starting to yap at the gates like a feral beast. 

“Yeah…” he replies, finally, eyes fluttering to kiss you again, twice, three times.

There’s gazes on you from the boys in the booth, you know, you feel them, but you don’t take a chance at them until you can lean back for a cool breath of fresh air. They all sit there, slack-jawed, wide eyed.

“Your friends are looking at us,” you murmur, fingers digging into his upper arm.

“Let them look. They’re not the ones getting an eyeful of this masterpiece up close,” he hums, nosing along your jaw. “You should be painted.”

“Is that what you say to all the girls?”

“What do you want to hear?”

“The truth.”

“You’re the first one it’s true for.” You feel your heart thrum a little quicker, his fingers pressing hard into your ass, then relaxing. “You wanna call a cab?”

“Yeah. Yeah, come on,” you murmur. You’re more out of breath than you’d like to admit- than your ego would like to admit. Fives steals another cool kiss in the entrance to the club, greeting a few of his brothers in a language you don’t understand, before ushering you in his warm, huge hands, to the cab drop-off.  His arms suddenly hook around your waist and you sigh, softly, contently. 

After dialling in the address to your apartment, the cab takes only another long two minutes to show up, of which consists mainly of Fives drawing his tongue in teasing circles on your neck, and hot, heavy touches along your ribcage.

You step into the cab first, smiling politely to the driver, only to be pinned to the seat by a suddenly ravenous Fives. He pulls you up, over, onto his lap and keeps you there with a hand on your thigh.

“What do you want from me?” He asks, voice low, rough. “I want to be sure you want this.” A finger gestured between your chests and you laugh, threading your fingers through his hair. “What’re you laughin’ at?”

“How could it be possible anyone wouldn’t want you, Fives?” You tug gently at his roots, smoothing kisses on both of his cheeks with a coy smile.

“You haven’t met my brothers,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “They don’t want even to bet on me when we spar.” You sigh, stretching. “Do you normally do this?”

“Do what?” You ask, certain your eyes are probably blared with lust and something more primal, more dangerous. Fives smothers his face in your throat, nipping gently at your pulse, breath more of a growl now. “Invite handsome men back to my apartment? You should ask my friends.”

“The Theelin and the Mirialan?” You nod. 

“They think I’m quite picky, so nine out of ten nights end with me alone, eating ice cream and watching limmie.” Fives laughs, stroking a thumb over the crease of your knee. “So, you’re lucky.”

“Oh, yeah,” he growls, thumbing at your bottom lip with a grin. You take the digit into your mouth with a hum. “I’ve hit the jackpot.”

The cab stutters up to the dock at the very bottom of the apartment block, and it takes Fives a moment to stare up at the towering building before you can pay the driver and usher him into the doors. Islair, the Nikto receptionist, raises his hand in a polite wave, before doing a double take at the trooper on your arm. He still smiles, though, when you step into the lift.

“You aren’t afraid of heights?” You ask, when Fives leans against the metal bar on the opposite side of the half-glass lift. It slides smoothly through the building, leaving Coruscant more and more distant with every floor climbed.

“No.”

“Good. We’re going to the fiftieth floor.” You smile, fluttering your lashes, crooking your finger towards him. He crosses the lift, boots thudding against red carpet beneath your heeled feet, before shoving you roughly against the wall. His lips break your resolve as soon as he presses them against yours, tongue sliding through into your mouth with a hard groan. He shifts his hips against yours and hooks your wrists beside your head.

“You… we have to make sure there are boundaries.”

“You’d be surprised how much I can take, Fives.” He huffs, a low, gasp of a breath, fingers running up, below your dress. “How much can you give?” 

“You’re really riling me up, princess,” he whispers, voice sharp. “How long till your floor?” You glance at the numbers, ticking up through thirty.

“Not long, handsome,” you murmur, sliding the tips of your fingers down his stomach, along his codpiece, until he groans, planting two hands hard on either side of you He could almost bend the metal. “Relax.”

“Tell me to relax while you’re doing that?” He grumbles, smothering you in another rushed kiss when the lift pings, and the doors open. In one graceful swoop, he hauls you into his arms and waits for you to flick out your apartment key. You rustle through the black, studded purse in your hands and quickly draw it out, a shimmery, pearlescent card. 

“Apartment Three,” you whisper. Fives hurries along the carpeted hall, lowering you to your feet in front of a rather decadent black door, watching as you flick your card over the scanner. A soft, delirious scent of vanilla hits him right in the face when it opens, and he lets you tug him inside.

There’s a moment of silence.

“So, this is my apartment,” you mumble, feeling his presence creeping behind you. His hands snake around your middle, to the hem of your dress and up once more. He takes his time, like he’s standing in front of a painting at a gallery, pushing himself along your spine. You arch your back, sighing softly when he cups your breasts in his hands and kisses your throat, once, twice. “You don’t care…”

“Nice place.” Is all he manages, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples, hardened against the silk of your underwear, underneath your dress, but he knows- he grins, smoothing his hands down your sides. “Do you want me?”

“Yes.” You turn, fiddling with the latches of his armour pieces, kneeling on the cool wood of the ground. His throats jumps, but you ignore it, finely, too, as you release the rest of his white and blue protection onto the floor. “There. All done.”

“Uh, uh,” he calls, wrapping a hand around your wrist when you try to escape. Your breath hitches. Your back hits against his chest. “Your turn, princess.” His fingers play with the hem of your dress, spreading out along the warmth of your thighs. 

“Zip.” He leans back, moving a hand to slowly drag the zip along your spine. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder, your throat. “Beautiful girl.” You exhale, sharply, shifting the dress from your arms with a wriggle. “Fuckin’ Maker,” he huffs, reaching forrwards to skim his thumbs over your bare skin. You’re suddenly quite happy you wore the black, slightly sexy underwear rather than the black, completely mismatched pair you were rushing for a few hours earlier. 

“You like it?”

“Who were you planning to snag at the club? Wolffe wouldn’t have lasted five minutes with you. He’s hard on the outside, soft on the inside.” Fives smooths the pads of his thumbs across your breasts, nipples hardened in the cups of your bra, before lowering his mouth to the crevice between them. He runs his tongue, slowly, carefully, along the cool silk of your skin. “Fox, maybe. No… no, he’d finish and kick you out. Rex? My Captain? My brother?” You gasp, cupping his face between your hands. “No. Too soft. Too slow.” 

“What are you trying to say, Fives?”

“That I’m the brother for you.” You giggle, throwing your arms around his neck. “I promise, I promise from the bottom of my heart… I am the clone for you.” He offers a goofy smile.

“I trust you, Fives,” you whisper, brushing his nose with yours. “Do you still want to try it, though?” You stroke a finger down the nape of his neck. “Figure out whether I’m the woman for you?” He tucks an arm below your hips and hauls you up, up into the air. 

“I already know.”

“You don’t even know my favourite colour… my favourite flavour of ice cream, my favourite meal!”

“All in good time. For now,” he busts open a door at random. “Good choice.” It’s the bedroom. A wide bed, perfect for ignoring alarms, and what seems to be, to Fives, a good throwing range. He tosses you onto the mattress, and you bounce, just a little, watching him from the head of the bed. “Comfortable, too.”

“Come here,” you call, springing onto your knees. Fives reaches over his head and tugs in one mighty pull, his shirt off. You swallow, dry-mouthed, when he displays deep bronze skin, six lines of ridged muscle, broad arms, broader shoulders. His grin grows. 

“You like what you-”

“Yes.” You hook an arm around his neck and pull him back onto the bed, hauling him below you. Bare skin against bare skin, you tremble with every hot, silky-smooth touch he ghosts up your legs, over your knees, along the curve of your spine. You shift your hips against him, pressing purposely along the velvet length hidden in his blacks. Your fingers splay against his chest, sliding along his stomach, into the waistband of his trousers.

A husky gasp and a growl when your fingertips fuss through the downy triangle of hair at the very centre of those defined lines of muscle, a perfect V. He thrusts his hips up, planting himself at an angle on his elbows. You grin, wrapping a hand around his cock.

It’s broad, long, big enough to make you wince, and hot to the touch. You sweep a thumb over the tip, wetness pooling there somewhere, a drop, more than that, a rivulet running along the underside of the head. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” You smile, capturing Fives in a hard, rough kiss. His teeth clack against yours, but he doesn’t care, all he seems to care about is keeping that pressure on his dick and keeping you right there, beside him. “Oh, Maker.” 

“That feel good, soldier?”

“Pull rank on me and I’ll cum in your hand right now.” He grins. You sigh, tapping your chin with your free hand. 

“What comes next, I wonder?” Fives growls, tossing you on your back in one hard motion. He kicks off his pants, exposing bulking, heavy thighs corded with muscle and a long, thick cock. You grin, going to crawl forwards, but Fives presses you to the bed with a hand. 

“No, no. Just stay there.” His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties. They’re lace and silk, elegant, and he tugs them down, slowly. “You’re beautiful.” You feel your body flush, Fives’ breath quickening against your stomach, your knees, the apex of your thighs, before he presses his mouth into your heat. 

“Oh, Gods, give a little warning next time-” He squeezes the skin of your right thigh with a sigh, running his tongue up the liquid warmth between your legs, between your folds, along the petal-pink flesh, wet with desire. “Fives.”

“You’re sweeter than sugar, princess. Sweeter than anything.” He taps your hips and pins them into the bed, nose brushing your clit with dangerous precision. “So pretty, soft.” His tongue thrusts into you, gathering your slickness in one long motion. He moves his fingers slowly, carefully, along your skin, rubbing one against your entrance in a wolfish, evil way. 

“You’re an asshole.”

“Hm?” Fives croons, biting softly at the skin of your thigh. “You say something?” He hums, licking his lips before shoving his face back between your legs. With the quick shift of his head, his finger eases into you, slowly, carefully. You groan, pushing your hand through his hair. His tongue is teasing at your clit, his finger shifting delicately inside you, slower than anything, but electrifyingly so. 

“Fives, you tease,” you groan, eyes screwed shut. “Stop playing around.”

“You’re asking me to stop playing around?” He adds a second finger, stretching you to the knuckle. You hiss, a hand latching around his upper bicep like a vice. Fives grins. He pecks you twice on the hipbone, then returns his attention to between your legs. “I’m quite enjoying playing around.”

“You’re being a tease. I’d much rather give you attention- ah, fuck, fuck- too. Please,” you hiss, eyes shuddering back as he coaxes the oncomings of an orgasm out of you. A grin against your skin- you feel it. His teeth graze your skin, then his mouth latches onto you once more. Liquid heat burns through your gut, coiling you tight. “I’m going to…”

“Yes, pretty girl, give it to me.” He flicks his tongue over your clit. “Give it to me, Sugarplum. You got it, baby.” 

You choke on a moan as your orgasm snatches you away. It’s a thrumming feeling, a wheeze that escapes through your lungs and burns you hot inside out. A grin spreads onto your face, your skin is vibrating, shivering under the still-relentless touch of Fives between your legs. He eases up onto the bed, then, smoothing your breasts into his hands.

“Perfect tits,” he whispers.

“How do you want me?” You ask, breathless, eyes still spotty-white from the blinding climax rushing between your legs, rendering you twitching, shaking. 

“Get on your back for me?” He asks, pinching a nipple between two deft fingers. You keen, shuffling beneath him. Your hand snakes between his leg and slowly strokes his cock, carefully, quietly. Fives groans, capturing your mouth with his. A moan is lost into his tongue, wetting your lips then moving against them once more. He’s a battering ram- no mercy, a perfect soldier. 

“Fucking hell, Fives,” you whisper, raking nails over his scalp. He moans. You feel your stomach drop to your feet. “You like that?” He nods, parting your legs with two rough, callused hands. Your fingers pull hard at his hair and he whines, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, sliding his hand between your legs once more. He plays with your clit, your hand around his cock. 

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he rasps, nipping at your bottom lip. You let go of him, reaching up to slide your arms along the hot, hard planes of his back. Fives stares at you, just for a moment, eyes dark like smoke, before he grips himself and pushes against you. “Slow?”

“Whatever you want,” you whisper, mouth cracking open when he impales you carefully in one liquid thrust. “Oh, shit. Now is probably a good time to tell you I’m on suppressors.” Fives tries to speak, but his words are lost in a broken groan into the hot crook of your neck. Your nails push crescent moons into his shoulders, letting him stretch you carefully along his generous length. “Are you all your brothers… this big?”

Fives huffs a laugh, nose brushing your pulse.

“Weird question.”

“Yeah,” you gasp, fanning your face with a hand. “Yeah, you’re right.” You stifle a moan between your fingers, eyes ducking back into your head. “Fuck, fuck, Fives, just a little quicker.”

“Quicker?” His hips snap against yours with a sharpness you haven’t felt before. Your chest drops out, but he continues, thumbs digging into your hips when he tilts you upwards, finding the best angle. His fingers slide beneath the small of your back to suspend you there, perfect for his ruin, when he brushes his mouth over your nipple and ruts firmly into you. “That, ah- that better?”

“Hm, yeah, yes.” You slide a hand into the hair at the back of his head, eyes fluttering shut, mouth slipping open with every thrust of his hips, every shift of his cock inside you. “Yeah, baby, that’s better.” You scratch gentle nails over his back, admiring his warmth, before tugging carefully at his hair. He groans, pinning you into the bed.

Your eyes slide shut. Stars begin to speck behind them and you think he knows by the breathless laugh against your throat, then the broken moan into your jaw, your mouth. He tongues your mouth gently, bruising your lips swollen with the fervent touches. 

“Fives-”

“Ah, yeah?”

“Touch me, just a little more,” you plead, nose brushes his as he pecks you once more, thumbing your right nipple, then finding your clit beneath a rough finger. “Yeah, yeah.”

“You like that, pretty girl?” He huffs, dragging his tongue along your throat. “Yeah?”

“Yes! Gods, yes, please!” You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against your chest. Fives’ eyes disappear beneath his eyelids, his chest rumbling with soft, persistent groans every other thrust. You whine, pulling at his hair, scratching at his back. 

“You’re a little… fuckin’... ah, keep pullin’.” You giggle, threading your fingers through his hair, kissing him twice on the mouth, once on the jaw, angling his head as you see fit. “Yeah, baby, that’s right. Tight little pussy.”

He squeezes your waist with one hand, still flicking at your clit with the other hand, desperate to chase your orgasm out of you, and it works, he gives you one in moments. You stiffen, back arching, fisting a hand in the sheets, the other smoothing over his neck. Your moan echoes in your bedroom, and Fives eggs you on with gentle praise.

“Good girl, yeah, keep… fuck,” he wheezes, hiding his face in your shoulder. His arms are so tight. “Can I move you?”

“Uh-huh, yeah,” you whisper, letting him shift you into a lower position, where he impales you so suddenly your breath hitches and you shriek, turning into a whimpering mess. “Oh, that’s so good!”

“That’s good?” He breaths, pupils almost completely lost in black-brown irises.

“Yes, Fives, it’s good,” you whisper, smothering your mouth against his with a giggle, a grin, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He grunts, releasing your clit to roll a nipple between finger and thumb. You hiss sharply against him, forcing your heels into his back to push him deeper, harder. “Harder, baby, please.”

He quickens his pace, the bed shaking a little under his force.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. “Sweet angel,” he reaffirms. “Heaven sent.” His fingers wrap around your free wrist, pinning it against the silken sheets below your head. Your back arches with the pressure, a grin spreading along your face. “Fuckin’ hell, I’m gonna cum.” 

You hiss when he touches your clit, so eager, so painlessly prepared to give you what you want- another orgasm, more pleasure, anything. He coaxes it out of you, another climax, relishing in your writhing against him, your low whine in his ear, the shiver that follows, the sweat that slicks him head to toe. 

“Fuck!” You cry, shuddering back into the sheets.

Fives’ hips falter, his eyes scrunching shut, his groans lower, deeper, until you wind a hand into his hair and kiss him once more, and his thrusts pause.

“Inside?”

“Yeah.”

He finishes, coating you with one hard grunt, a sharp sigh, his eyes finally opening to find yours, a grin eventually appearing on his tired features. You let him fill you, for a moment more, before he pulls away a little.

“Sorry,” he whispers, pulling out. You huff at the cool touch of air against the wetness sinking deep into your skin, and watch him do a quick double-take around the room for the bathroom. With a snort, you point at the door on the left. He punches the release and wanders in, clattering around.

“Under the sink, baby.”

“Yeah! I got it,” he calls, reappearing after the tap runs for a moment. He kneels between your legs and gently, softly, wipes the warm cloth over you until he’s satisfied you’re cleaned up well enough. “There, princess.”

“Thanks.” 

He disappears back into the bathroom, and a wet slap suggests he’s just tossed the rag into the bath tub. An muffled ‘oops’ and there’s another sound of running water. 

You stifle a giggle behind your hand, darting from the bed to snatch up his long-sleeve top. It had the Republic branded right in the middle, grey against the black, and you snuggle into it, sliding your arms into too-big sleeves. Fives reappears after a moment and grins, crooking a finger towards your shrouded form.

“Do you want me to go?” He asks, quietly, sincerely. “I’m assuming ‘no’ since you’ve stolen my shirt,” he hums.

“No, stay, please.” You usher him towards the bed, hands on his ass. You squeeze once with a snort and toss his trousers at him. He eases himself into them and pulls you into his chest. 

“Are you okay?”

“Better than okay.” Fives grins, craning his neck to kiss you softly on the mouth, the nose, the forehead. You stare helplessly at him, your heart suddenly quite warm, and collapse onto the bed. “Come sleep.” You pat the space beside you and watch as he slides himself in. “Never had a double?” His look of confusion is an easy tell.

“Nope.”

“Comfy?”

He turns, half buried in thick duvet and silk sheets. You can barely make out his nod but slide down beside him, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. He’s like a furnace- probably going to irritate you later in the night- but you relax against his chest.

“‘Night.”

“G’night, pretty baby.”

*

for the bbs always: @thegoodbatch @djangofetts​ @jangohshit​ @queenofheavenandhell​ 

[belit0]

Madara making his s/o squ1rt + Daddy k1nk. 

Request for the anon who asked this a while ago, here you go, more of my brother. I get it, he’s hot, but damn y'all crazy for him.

Writer added daddy k1nk cause she wanted to.

You are sitting in Madara's office, wrapping up some envelopes with documents to surprise him with the gesture. You're trying to be a good girl, you were misbehaving last week and your neck shows the marks of how he made his grip on you, it hurts to sit down and swallow is a difficult task. Helping him through his work while he's in a meeting is a way of proving you are willing to stop being a brat and start behaving.

It really is boring. Seal a paper, put it in its envelope, close it, make sure the Uchiha symbol is neat, repeat. A monotonous little routine that seems to never end. The pile of documents seems to grow as time goes by, and all you want to do is get out of that room.

You love Madara's office, it is one of his favorite places to fuck you, on his desk, on his work. Secretly, you suspect that it gives him special pleasure if he takes you over paperwork that is related to the Senju clan. His big velvet chair is the most comfortable piece of the whole house, padded and soft. The most suitable furniture for your battered thighs.

Wearing a T-shirt of him and only your underwear, you caress the material under your body, feeling the softness and comfort of sitting without experiencing pain. The Uchiha did not used to give you such severe punishments, and for that to be the case, it is because you had been out of place. As when you humiliated him in front of his brother a few days ago, describing a moment of vulnerability that had to be kept private.

The problem was that you came across a peculiar situation, something never before witnessed in your eyes, which awakened your curiosity and generated the need to ask Izuna about your man's past. It was a lazy morning, where both of you were just waking up after an intense night almost without sleep. You went into the bathroom as any person would, without noticing that he was there taking a piss. When you made yourself present, his inspiration was immediately gone, he got frustrated and threw you out in a huff. Without understanding what his problem was, you analyzed what happened, and discovered that you had never shared the bathroom simultaneously. Of course, to brush teeth and take a shower, but not to use the toilet. Did Madara have a trauma with peeing? Izuna would probably know.

After asking his younger brother, who seemed strangely happy when you told him about it and did not stop laughing throughout the story, the older Uchiha began to be harassed by the younger one every time he tried to go to the bathroom. Somehow Izuna was always behind him when he tried to pee, making him angry and forcing him to stop.

Because of the torture your man suffered thanks to your curious mind, the worst punishment ever given in the history of your relationship appeared without warning, making you endure more spankings in one night than you thought you were capable of. But his resentment continued for days, and your perverse attitude did not help the cause.

That's why you had made the decision to behave at least for as long as it took your buttocks to lose the bruises he caused. Being bratty with him is something you are passionate about, but now you only have the option to behave well and obey because technically you owe it to him.

There are still too many documents to be sealed, but you hear the front door opening and closing, and that makes your attention focus on that part of the house. You know your man has arrived, and in a apparently better mood, as you hear him whistling a tune as his footsteps echo down the hall. The first destination he visited was the bedroom, and you smile at the fact that he thought he would find you there, resting from his lesson.

"[Y/N]?"

He asks generally towards the house, hoping to hear your voice from somewhere to find out where you are. But to gloat and annoy him, even a little, you prefer to keep quiet and continue closing letters, completely ignoring his presence.

You feel him calling you several more times, climbing the stairs, going out to the patio, searching in several rooms. Why would he expect you to be in his office? You would have nothing to do there when he is not at home. It is the last place he checks, and when he opens the doors, there is a slight sign of concern in his features.

Of course, you can't help but smirk at this, it's the most you can play with him without provoking more punishment for your body. You watch him with narrowed eyes and without ceasing to work.

"What do you think you are doing? It's not funny."

"Was it a little, wasn't it?"

"Haven't you had enough? Do you really need more?"

"No! Of course not! Look, I'm trying to make up for it, I'm being a good girl for you daddy."

"I don't know, are you?"

Having said that, he enters his office and heads behind his desk, to where you are sitting. You know this means he wants you to sit on his lap, so you get up and let him settle into the seat before you climb onto him.

You try to kiss him, but he stops you.

"Keep working, you're not done."

Obeying, you seal a document, and when you want to take an envelope to put the paper and leave it closed, it is Madara who holds it in his hands in front of your mouth.

"Put the document in and close it with your mouth."

"B-But..."

"Do you want to have Daddy angry?"

"No..."

"Go ahead. No hands."

You insert the paper into the packet, and as the Uchiha indicated, you slide your tongue around the edge of the packaging, from one of his fingers to the other. When you reach the other end, his digit goes into your mouth without warning and smoothly. The task you were performing falls forgotten on the desk.

"Suck it well, show me what a good little girl you are.”

Pleasing your man, you stick your back to his chest, leaning your head over his shoulder while your tongue dances on his finger and fills it with saliva, giving him little sounds of approval. A second one enters your cavity, and you begin to move your head back and forth as if you were working on his cock, feeling his eyes on your lips.

"I think my baby has missed her milk bottle, hasn't she?”

Nodding on his lap, you feel like a hand is moving your underwear, and taking his wet fingers out of your mouth, he directs them towards your pussy, massaging the outside and wetting you completely.

“I'm still very sensitive..."

"Don't worry baby, I don't plan on messing with your tiny clit today. Daddy will teach you how to go to the bathroom.”

With those words, his two fingers are pushed inside you mercilessly, positioning themselves in the shape of a claw and rubbing that thin membrane on the top of your stomach that simply made you curl up and close your thighs over his arm.

"Open your legs or I'll have to spank you again, you bad girl.”

Moaning uncontrollably, with your head tilted back and sliding over his lap, your vagina makes watery noises every time Madara's knuckles hit your outer lips. Your feet are suddenly on his knees, allowing him better access, and with his arms he forces your thighs to stay apart, while his free hand runs to the side your soaked underwear.

"D-D-DAD-DY!"

Spasms run through your body and no coherent thought crosses your mind, you don't even care that your juices are dripping from your cunt and staining the upholstery of your man's chair, as he keeps his legs open along with yours. You're intoxicated in those digits working wonders on that magic point in your body, while the punch of his fist somehow also manages to act as a masturbation for your punished and over-stimulated clit.

You can no longer resist it.

"What's the matter girlie, do you feel like going to the restroom? Come on, do it on my hand, give all your fluids to dad."

With a final scream, a stream of liquid flows from your pussy, smoothly and strongly, hitting Madara's hand and landing on the floor. The Uchiha exerts pressure with his fingers inside you until the liquid stops pouring and your body stops shaking, leaving you exhausted over him and unable to gather strength to care about the mess left in his office.

"Oh no... what a bad girl... what a bad, bad girl... look what you did on the floor... I will have to teach you another lesson..."

"B-B-But-I..."

"But? You said, but? You have some serious behavioral problems. Come here, Daddy will fix you up."

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Let Me Do The Work (Aaron Hotchner x Reader) Smut

Summary: Hotch has always been a workaholic. It takes a special someone a long time to convince him to take a break.

AN: This is my first gender neutral smut! Let me know how you found it <3 Thank you to @sunlight-moonrise, @definitelynotkatesblog​ and @winterscaptain​ for being my beautiful betas on this one

Smut warnings: Blowjob, reader bottoms from the top, Hotch goes down on the reader

It had been two hours since Hotch had read a bedtime story to Jack over the phone, saying goodnight and promising to be back home the following evening.

The jet was grounded. The team was staying in their motel for the fourth night in a row. Everyone had either gone out or vacated to their rooms for an early night – apart from Hotch. An hour was spent clearing up some of the paperwork mountain, then he made the fruitless effort of driving back to the motel in hopes that the change in scenery would spark motivation.

The lamp glowing over the desk flickered again, but Hotch didn’t have to restrain any frustrations. His pen scribbled away at the paper,

A light knocking drew a sliver of his attention away.

“It’s open,” Hotch spoke up.

The door opened, letting in the stale light of the hallway for the briefest of moments before a shadow crossed it and the door was closed once again. Soft steps padded across the carpet.

Warmth enveloped Hotch’s body as two arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him to lean back in the chair. A familiar smell swayed him with the embrace. It was not helping him focus on the paperwork, his eyes now drooping shut. As he felt his captor press a kiss against his temple, Hotch reached his free hand up to squeeze one of the forearms that locked him in a cuddle. His pen still scratched the files.

“I thought you were going out,” He said, his voice low in the darkness of the room.

“The team’s still out. But I didn’t feel like it,” Y/N replied. The words from their mouth tickled Hotch’s right ear as they were spoken. They released him slowly, but their hands dragged across his collarbones, up to his shoulders where they dug their thumbs into his shoulders. It drew a groan of relief from Hotch’s chest before he even recognised that he had made such a noise.

“I’ve still got paperwork.” Hotch tilted his head back and looked at Y/N upside down. They were wearing their pyjamas and a hoodie over their shirt.

“You’ve always got paperwork,” teased Y/N, bumping their nose against Hotch’s. He let out a sigh as Y/N pressed their mouth against his. Such a kiss had only been attempted one other time, in his office and with Jack outside the door bursting out that they were doing the Spiderman kiss. Y/N had jumped and knocked teeth with Hotch. Hence why they had not attempted another until now.

Y/N moved Hotch’s head back down to face his desk, running their fingers through his silky hair with one hand whilst returning the other to massage his left shoulder.

They hummed along with him, “Take the rest of the night off, it’s been a long one.”

Further supporting their point, they pushed Hotch back in his chair so they could sit on his desk. Before he could protest again, Y/N had undone the top button and loosened the tie

“I can’t do that, Y/N.”

Y/N pouted playfully at him as their knees came against the chair between his spread legs. Hotch couldn’t help but kiss them, let his partner sweeten the deal in their attempt to convince him to stop working. Their lips bounced off each other in teasing pecks.

After losing count of those little kisses, Y/N offered, “I can help you with the paperwork if you want.”

They knew full well that neither of them wanted to do the paperwork. Hotch let out a short hum again but didn’t make any effort to stop kissing them.

“Come on, honey, come to bed.”

That was the turning point. Y/N felt Hotch’s heavy breath at the pet name, one saved for when they were alone together. It had been a long time since he had heard it. Stealing the advantage, Y/N slid his suit jacket off his shoulders. Hotch replaced his hands on their lower back. Two of his fingers lifted beneath their shirt, pressing into Y/N’s skin.

“I’m tired,” He mumbled against Y/N’s mouth, “Too tired.”

Y/N pulled away, “I know, you’ve been working hard as usual.” And they stroked over his cheeks with their thumbs, adoration in their eyes. “I’m so proud of you, Aaron, so grateful for all the work you do for this team.”

Hotch’s eyes drooped shut. There was a hint of a smile on his lips as Y/N kissed the corners of his mouth. Their hands closed around his collar, peeling it away so that they could kiss the side of his neck.

“Let me take care of you, Aaron.”

They pulled Hotch up by the collar, firm but gentle; those hands that carried him to his feet unbuttoned his shirt. Their fingertips ghosted over his skin before applying any kind of pressure. All those scars and hairs and moles were theirs to touch, and Hotch was rendered breathless at how in awe they were of him. He let them guide him towards the bed, their hands back on his shoulders so that, when they reached it, Y/N just had to press down gently, sinking Hotch onto the mattress.

Pulling their hoodie and sleep shirt over their head in one swoop, Y/N discarded it along with their underwear. All under Hotch’s gaze that dragged leisurely across their body. With his legs being moved together, Hotch ran his fingertips and down Y/N’s sides until they had him laying on his back, kneeling over his groin.

Y/N pushed away his hand as it attempted to find its own way between Y/N’s legs When Hotch went to protest, Y/N silenced him with a knowing smile.

“I’m taking care of you tonight, honey,” they reminded him.

And they stood by what they said.

Y/N was gentle as they finished undressing him, leaving Hotch bare and beautiful beneath them. The simplest brush between their skin and his sent goosebumps up his body. It was almost overwhelming as Y/N bent his legs, pushing them apart - presenting him for their pleasure as well as his. Their cheek tilted against Hotch’s left knee. Hotch waited and watched Y/N, blinking slowly and smiling away at him.

“You alright there?”

“Hmm.” Y/N looked so lovestruck that it was unsurprising that they were unaffected by his remark, “Just taking my time.”

Hotch felt his cheeks flush as Y/N kissed where their head had rested. He forgot any embarrassment on asking them to hurry up, but he held back regardless. Y/N said they were going to take care of him. He could be patient for a while longer.

At their own pace, Y/N continued forging a path of kisses up Hotch’s thigh. They listened to Hotch’s breathing blending with sighs and glanced up to watch his behaviour slip into dazed bliss. God, he just looked so beautiful when he let himself go. Rare, but just gorgeous. And Y/N wanted more of it. They masked their own impatience in their long and low exhale as they finally took Hotch’s cock into their mouth.

That flush on Hotch’s cheeks had spread to his neck. How the warmth of Y/N’s mouth, their tongue flat against his cock, held him in pleasure and yearning, it was delicious. Twisting the sheets brought no relief; he anchored a hand on the back of Y/N’s head instead.

As if to reply, Y/N fanned the fingers of their free hand across his chest and used the other hand to tease more delight from between their own legs. They were lavished in the taste of Hotch’s arousal, sweeter than his favourite pet name. Alternating between humming around the head and taking as much into their mouth as they could while sucking down hard proved the best method of extracting the response they were after.

Hotch was lost in his feelings. His eyes were on the ceiling, a particular crack that squiggled through the paint. A distant touch told him that Y/N was rolling the condom onto his cock, but he didn’t see them prep themselves, only a glimpse of them leaning close to whisper in his ear.

“Relax, honey.”

They reached beneath them and tugged his cock before they lined it against their sex. Hotch slapped his hands down on their thighs as they sank down upon him, gripping tight. A hushed “fuck” pushed out of his throat.

“Aaron Hotchner, wash your mouth out,” Y/N scolded playfully. Hotch let out a laugh in spite of himself. Sitting up, his hands covering the expanse of their back as they bottomed out on him. His smile pressed against Y/N’s as they combed through his hair, their nails scratching his scalp.

Rolling their body up against Hotch’s, Y/N began to grind on his cock. Hotch’s nails bit into Y/N’s thighs, pulling them down harder upon him in protest of the slow pace. Eyelids creased shut, unable to watch for long. Lips grazed over each other without attempting to coordinate a better kiss.

To hear Y/N moan, utter under their hot breath “yes” over and over, there was nothing sexier and it was no surprise that he was quick to orgasm with Y/N clenching around his cock.

Entirely spent, he fell back onto the bed and took Y/N with him. He cradled their head as he kissed the air beside their cheek.

“I’ve got to pee,” Y/N mumbled, eyes still closed as they eased off him. They shared a quick gasp at the motion.

Hotch heard their feet on the carpet, then on the vinyl of the bathroom before the door closed. Sitting up, he pulled off the condom, tied a knot in it and tossed it into the bin beside the desk. His arms began stretching with a grunt as he felt a click. They reached out to the sides once he had landed onto his back - definitely not reaching out in vain for Y/N.

A clinking of glass being placed on the bedside table told him to lift the covers up. Sure enough, Y/N dove underneath, pressing their cooling body up against his. They rested their nose against the curve of his neck, tickling as they breathed in his company.

“Honey, I can hear you doing paperwork in your head.”

“Sorry.”

“Go to sleep,” Y/N ran a finger in the groove of his collarbones, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

A small quirk of his eyebrow, and Hotch’s eyes rolled back as he closed them. If the promise of waking up beside his significant other had been broached earlier, he wouldn’t have put up such a fight.

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Hotch woke up first as usual. It was quarter past seven, forty-five minutes before they were due back at the station. He stretched himself again, linking his fingers together as he reached for the ceiling, flexing them as far as he could. The crack from last night was still there. Bubbles in his knuckles popped, disturbing Y/N who had curled up in most of the covers beside him.

“How’d you sleep?” They mumbled as they rolled over to see him. A soporific smile grew once they’d seen the state of Hotch’s hair – floppy from its time pressed in the pillow.

That smile broadened as Hotch lazily touched a curled finger to their lips, “Better than I have in a while.”

“You’re welcome.”

When Hotch pushed off the covers, Y/N clung to them as they waited for him to rise and ready himself for the day ahead. Thus began a minor wrestling match between the two as Hotch hid himself beneath the covers.

Y/N asked, although they knew the answer already as Hotch’s hands groped at their hips to lie them on their back, “Where’d you think you’re going, Mister?”

“Going to return the favour,” replied the bump under the bed sheets.

Y/N parted their legs to feel such gentle kisses on their thighs in the same spots they had chosen for Hotch the night before. His cheek, they could feel its patch of blunt stubble. Their hands wrung the tops of the covers against their sternum.

His attentive tongue found them, well versed in how to please. Y/N’s legs bent and they lost sight of Hotch’s lump. But they never lost how it felt to have his mouth, his hot and talented and giving mouth, loving on them or the deep rumble of his voice that purred in response to every other call of longing from the now wakeful Y/N.

But the haze of a morning fuck before even stepping out of bed soon lifted. Propped up on their elbows, Y/N went to unexpected mirth.

“I can see your feet poking out the duvet,” They giggled and dropped back against the pillows. Their heel slid down Hotch’s back, pushing the covers off so they could see his smirking disbelief. Hair sticking up, his cheeks pink, he shook his head at them fondly.

“All this so I won’t smell your morning breath,” Y/N said through a sigh, “Bit extreme, don’t you think?”

“Not at all.” And he leant in to Y/N’s touch as they pushed a hand through his hair again.

“Honey, we’ve got work in less than an hour.”

“And I had work right in front of me, didn’t stop you then.”

“It wasn’t a favour, you know? You don’t have to.”

Hotch stopped for a moment, then he rested his chin on their stomach, his hands stroking in ticklish delight over their skin. He licked his lips before he echoed their words:

“Let me take care of you, Y/N.”

[suituuup]

A Merry Crazy Christmas

for @raincloudtoyoursunshine. Merry Pitchmas!

shoutout to @scylla-ramshorn for the idea :)

*

“Bedtime, guys!” 

“Noooooo,” Logan whines, dramatically face planting on the floor of the playroom. “I wanna stay up ‘til Chwistmas!”

Beca rolls her eyes, having expected as much. “Come on Finn, go brush your teeth.” 

Her son nods without objection, shuffling past his mom to head to the bathroom. 

“Logan Jade,” Beca tries the stern voice and full name, even though she’s not really the authoritarian mom; Chloe is, and their youngest knows that perfectly well, and she likes to take advantage of it every time. “I’ve got Santa’s phone number, remember? He won’t be happy to hear you’re not listening to me.” 

Beca’s lost count of how many times she’s threatened to text Santa over the last few weeks. It proved pretty efficient to counter toddler tantrums. 

Logan grumbles in a very Beca way (it’s sort of scary sometimes, how much she acts like her) but pushes to her feet, dramatically dragging them on her way to the bathroom.

Beca waddles after them, one hand supporting her lower back while the other rubs her large belly. 

She’s three days away from her due date, and she’s miserable. Everything aches, her feet and ankles are swollen, and she needs to pee every five minutes. 

Once both kids have washed up, she reads them a bedtime story of Logan’s choice before tucking them in. 

“M’gonna stay awake,” Logan mumbles as Beca tucks the covers around her, even though her lids are steadily drooping. 

Beca smirks knowingly. “Sure you are.” She bends down to kiss the tip of her nose. “Goodnight, baby.” 

She heads to the master next, closing the door behind her. “Kinda wish we could use the Santa card all year long,” she says as she leans against the surface for a moment. 

Chloe chuckles from her spot on the floor, surrounded by a dozen unwrapped presents. “Let me guess, Logan?”

Beca hums and lowers herself on the bed, eyeing the already wrapped pile. “Our kids are spoiled.” 

Chloe grimaces as she looks around as well. “Yeah, we might have gone overboard.” She glances at Beca. “How you feeling?” 

A groan flits through Beca’s lips. “So done with this pregnancy. That baby better be cute.” 

Chloe laughs, pushing to her feet and making her way over. Christmas is only the day after tomorrow, so present-wrapping thankfully doesn’t have to be finished tonight. She sits down next to her wife, kissing her covered shoulder as her head comes to rest over her belly. “A few more days at most.” 

“I know,” Beca sighs, covering Chloe’s hand with her own. “Strong chances this baby is a Logan 2.0, you know that, right?” 

Chloe’s pregnancy with Finn was difficult, and the doctor advised against her carrying again, so when they decided to have a third baby, it was a no brainer that Beca would be the one to get pregnant. 

Chloe simply smiles. “I love that she’s so much like you. I know she’s going to grow up to be a determined, badass and loyal human being like her mama.” 

Beca rolls her eyes at her wife’s cheesiness. “The teenage years coming before that might be the death of us.” She groans again, tilting her head back. “And I need to pee. Again.” 

Chloe pushes to her feet and gives her a boost up. “Call me if you need help up the toilet seat.” 

Beca’s response is a huff as she slowly waddles to the bathroom. She thankfully manages to do everything on her own, and slides into bed when she makes it back, falling asleep to Chloe wrapping more presents. 

The creaking of the bedroom door as it’s pushed open the next morning draws her out of her slumber. She cracks one eye open to see her two kids tip-toeing inside, hair disheveled from sleep. 

“No baby yet,” their youngest, Logan, whispers to her older brother Finn. “Maybe he’s waiting ‘til Chwistmas morning!” 

“Maybe,” Finn whispers back. “I don’t think the baby knows when Christmas morning is, though.” 

“I tell,” Logan states decidedly, walking over. 

Beca’s lying on her side with a pillow wedged between her thighs and another behind her back, the only position she’s able to fall asleep in. Chloe’s somewhere behind her, but cuddling has been off limits for the past month as Beca gets as hot as a freaking furnace during the night. 

While Finn climbs onto the mattress, Logan comes to stop in front of Beca. 

“Whatcha doing, Munchkin?” Beca mumbles sleepily as Logan presses her ear to her large bump. 

“I listen to the baby,” she murmurs, eyebrows stitched together in focus. “Why’s it late, Mama?” 

“I guess they like where he is now. Warm and comfortable. You two were late, too.” 

“But the baby can’t miss Christmas,” Logan points out with a heavy frown. 

Beca chuckles, reaching out to smooth her hand over her hair. “There’s always next Christmas.” 

“Where’s Mommy?” Finn asks after a beat. 

Because of the mountain of pillows, Beca didn’t notice her wife wasn’t in bed anymore.

“Probably downstairs making breakfast,” she answers. “Wanna go see if she needs help?” 

Both kids nod and Logan follows her brother out and down the stairs while Beca spends a few seconds struggling to sit up. 

“Mama!” Finn’s shout makes her freeze on her way to the bathroom. He appears in the doorway a handful of seconds later, worry flashing in his features. “Mommy fell!” 

Beca blinks. “What do you mean she fell? Where’s she??” 

“Outside, she says she can’t get up!” 

“What?” Ignoring her bladder about to burst, Beca makes her way downstairs as quickly as possible given her state and follows Finn to the open front door. She gasps upon finding Chloe sprawled out on her back in the snow covered driveway, a shovel laying next to her. “Baby, what happened??” 

Chloe groans. “Don’t come out here, it’s slippery.” She huffs. “I think I threw my back out.” 

“Oh no.” Beca grimaces, eyeing the state of the driveway and debating whether it’s safe for her to go help Chloe. With the giant watermelon weighing her down, she’s got more chance of face planting than successfully dragging Chloe up. “Hold on tight, babe, I’ll call one of the neighbors.” 

“It’s okay, Mommy!” Logan calls out sweetly before Beca ushers them inside so they don’t catch a cold as they’re only wearing their pajamas and it’s freaking freezing. 

She grabs her phone and makes a few calls, eventually managing to get a hold of their across the street neighbor, a dude about their age. He comes over right away and helps Chloe up, supporting her weight as they walk inside the house and towards the couch. 

“Thanks, Brad,” Chloe mutters with a wince as she sits down. 

“No problem. I’ll shovel the rest of the driveway for ya.”

“I cuddle you better, Mommy,” Logan says, climbing on the couch and snuggling into Chloe’s side while Beca heats up a pad in the kitchen. 

“Mm, thanks baby.” 

“Here,” Beca says when she comes back, handing her the pad. 

“I wanted the driveway to be cleared in case we needed to go to the hospital,” Chloe mumbles, grimacing as she shifts to set the pad on her lower back. “Shit, I’m old.”

Logan gasps. “Bad word, Mommy.”

“Mm I know, I’m sorry Pumpkin. I’ll put a dollar in the jar later.” She glances up at Beca, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I should call Jenny to let her know we might need her to drive you if the baby comes today.” 

Jenny’s Chloe’s closest colleague and friend in town. The Bellas are all scattered around the country, the closest being Aubrey in Boston. 

“She’s probably swamped with Christmas Eve dinner with her parents coming over and all,” Beca points out. “Besides, I really don’t think the baby’s coming today.” 

Chloe seems to internally debate Beca’s objection for a moment. “Fine. But I’m calling her the minute you have a contraction.” 

“Alright,” Beca concedes. “You’ll probably be more comfortable in bed. Think you can climb up the stairs?” 

Chloe nods. “Yeah, let’s give it a try.” 

Once upstairs, she helps Chloe out of her down jacket and props pillows under her back to ease the pain. “I’ll be back with some pain meds, alright?” 

“Is mommy okay?” Finn asks when she makes it back downstairs, blue eyes full of empathy. 

“She’ll be fine, sweetheart,” Beca assures him gently, running her fingers through his red curls. “Just needs to rest up for a bit.” 

She entertains the kids on her own for a while, whipping up a simple lunch. Logan thankfully doesn’t fight her to go down for a nap, and Finn seems content hanging out downstairs to watch a Disney movie while Beca goes to lie down for a bit. 

Her lie-down ends up being a two-hour nap, and she wakes up in a flash to the sound of the fire alarm. Chloe is still out cold from the pain medicine and Beca shuffles out of the room and heads downstairs as quickly as she can. 

“Finn?!” She calls out, following the burning smell to the kitchen. 

The seven-year-old is standing in the middle of the room, frozen as smoke seeps out of the oven. 

“Baby, step back,” Beca instructs, yanking him away from the oven. She opens it, relieved to find no actual flames, and opens the window above the sink to let some clear air in. Grabbing the oven mitts from the drawer, she takes out what looks like a cake and sets the baking pan out on the window ledge. She focuses on her son next, crouching to his level as her eyes sweep over his body for any signs of injury. “Are you hurt, Finn?” 

He shakes his head, tears silently streaming down his cheeks. “I-I wanted to help and-and make Ch-Christmas d-dinner,” he stammers. “I’m sorry.” 

Beca’s expression softens. “Oh, baby…” She pulls him into a tight hug. “I’m just relieved you’re alright.” 

“Bec?” Chloe appears around the corner, one hand braced over her lower back. “What happened?” 

“Our little guy wanted to make dinner to help out but things didn’t go as planned.” 

Finn sniffles, glancing at Chloe. “I made a cake and put it in the oven but then I went back to watch TV and I forgot about it until the alarm. But it was too late.” More tears leak out of his eyes as his features crumble. “Santa is not gonna come anymore. I ruined Christmas.” 

Beca shakes her head. “You didn’t ruin Christmas, honey. You wanted to help us, which is really sweet, but it’s not safe to use the oven on your own. So next time you should ask one of us, alright?” 

Finn nods. “Okay, I promise.” 

“And Santa is absolutely still coming,” Chloe adds with a beaming grin. “Because you’re kind, and devoted, and the best big brother there is.” 

“What’s devoted?” He asks in a small voice. 

“It means that you love your family and friends and will do many things to make them happy, like trying to make Christmas dinner.” Beca smiles. “But we can still make that happen. Wanna help mama make grilled cheese? That’s an acceptable dinner, right?” 

Finn’s head bobs up and down; grilled cheese happens to be his and Logan’s favorite. 

When Logan wakes up, the three of them spend an hour decorating the table and making dinner while singing Christmas tunes. They watch a movie Finn and Logan picked out, and the kids set a plate of cookies and a glass of milk next to the Christmas tree for Santa. 

“Oh man, what a day,” Beca mutters with a sigh as she crawls into bed after making a few trips downstairs to arrange the presents around the Christmas tree. “How are you feeling?” 

“A bit better,” Chloe says from her spot next to her. “This Christmas will definitely be one we’ll remember. I threw my back out, our son almost set the house on fire and--” 

Beca gasps. “My water just broke.” 

An almost comical length of silence follows as Chloe and Beca stare at each other with wide eyes. 

“Or I peed my pants, but I just used the toilet.” 

“You’re kidding,” Chloe whispers. 

Beca throws her wife a glare. “Fuck. Can you drive?” 

“I’ll manage.” 

It’s a good thing they already set up the car seat and that it hasn’t snowed anymore during the day, so their driveway is clear. 

“Whassgoin’ on?” She hears Logan mumble when Chloe crosses the hall to wake the children up. Beca’s water broke two hours ago, and her contractions are close enough that they need to head to the hospital. 

“The baby is coming,” Chloe says gently. “So you guys are going to go to Ms. Jenny’s for the rest of the night while mommy takes mama to the hospital.” 

While Beca’s labor with Logan lasted over twenty-two hours, this baby is in much more of a haste to meet the world. 

Riley Josephine Mitchell is born at 6:13 am on Christmas morning. Beca’s chest feels fit to burst with love as their tiny screaming baby is laid on her chest, her cries quieting down as soon as she feels Beca’s warm skin. 

“It’s okay, baby girl,” she murmurs, brushing soft kisses to her forehead. Her eyes find Chloe’s equally teary ones. “Merry Christmas, love.” 

Chloe beams, resting her forehead against the side of Beca’s head. “Merry Christmas.” 

Yeah… definitely one they will remember. 

[utterlyinevitable]

Their first kiss is so sweet! What is Odes friends reaction to the news? Naveen and Alans?

What was their first time like? Did she stay with Ethan in his bed?

Do they get the big house? Does she like to play for him? What was going through Odes mind when she went home after their first kiss? Was their next interaction awkward? What was their first official official date like?

Thanks for indulging me and answering my questions about these two! Let me know if its too much 😬

> ask me anything < 

I’m going to answer kinda out of order as I think about things lol 

So Odette gets into her apartment building and walks to their flat in kind of a haze, like she’s not quite sure anything after dinner actually happened. A part of her thinks she fell asleep at work and made up the whole evening anyway. She makes as little noise as possible padding through the apartment. None of her friends are in the common areas and she’s glad for that. She goes to her room and leans against the shut door with a small unbelievable sigh she didn’t know she was holding in. And then suddenly she shoots up to attention and fumbles trying to fist her phone out of her clutch. She calls Ethan - he’s still in the cab, it’s only been about 4 minutes since he dropped her off. “I am so sorry” she says when she hears his receiver pick up. Ethan couldn’t help but expel a chuckle, then says “I was worried for a second there”. 

They talk things through a bit that night. When they see one another at work two days later they are a bit.. quieter with one another? A few members on the DT and nursing staff on their floor notice a shift but don’t think anything further into it. It doesn’t last long and when people see Ethan driving her home like he usually does they assume it must’ve been the caseload getting to them. 

Their first date after the kiss and them talking things through is to the opera. Its an event she agreed to go with him weeks ago - before they were more than friends. Nothing seemed different except now she didn’t feel the need to make sure there was some space between them as she draped her arm through his. She didn’t need to stand straighter or be on the defensive - to prove that she belonged on his arm. She was here with her boyfriend enjoying one of their shared passions. 

Her friends are not surprised at all that they’re together. They really just make fun of her and comment about how long it’s taken Ethan and Ode to get together. Especially since the gang concocted a short-sighted plan at her birthday party to push the two in the right direction. 

Naveen isn’t surprised either. Ethan’s favorite topic of conversation is Odette. The two could not have a get together or lunch without him bringing up how she’s been handling the DT, cases, studying for boards, or something she’s done to upset or wow him. Naveen’s first comment is “So when’s the wedding?” which makes Ethan blush and turn right back around and leave the old Chief chuckling. 

Alan was the last to find out. Ethan kinda forget to tell his father he’s dating his best friend -- the woman who’s gotten under his skin one too many times. It wouldn’t be the first time Alan turned up unannounced at Ethan’s apartment when his son hadn’t answered his calls for a while. It also wouldn’t be the first time he found Ode and Ethan having dinner together one evening. After the three enjoyed their meal and E and O were clearing the table, Alan caught Ethan placing a kiss to Ode’s temple. Alan never brought it up to them, but he always knew they’d make a great match. 

Their first date after everyone finding out was on a trip to Providence. Alan invited them over for the day. They had a lovely family day and on the road home they stopped at the good Friendly’s for food, and a $5 film. The cinema across the street from Friendly’s was playing Singing In The Rain, and they figured why not. They’re here - what the hell!  

There first time was meticulously planned on Ode’s part, Ethan knew about her rule and figured there’d still be two months until they crossed that bridge. They’ve had a few sleepovers throughout their friendship/relationship with Ode taking the second bedroom. Only in the last few weeks has she started to like staying over more... and in bed with him. She psyched herself up for about two weeks, subtlety bringing candles and spare clothes and necessary toiletries. Upgrading the small amount of things she’d keep in a cupboard in the spare bathroom. So when they get home from dinner, while he’s making a nightcap, she says she’s going to get more comfortable. Ethan’s used to her immediately shedding her day attire for some yoga pants and tank now. But she comes out in a baby pink satin robe - a color she does not wear in all the years he’s known her - and he’s speechless. He raises a questioning brow. And all Ode does is give him a sultry smile. He follows her lead and tries very hard like a good boy not to get too over zealous and jump the gun. 

It’s all very slow and sensual - beautifully slow. They’ve kissed many times before but never like this. And every single touch felt like the first time - fingers grazing skin, eliciting goosebumps and tingles of electricity. Their hands always on the other, but no heady grabbing or bruises for tomorrow. Just swollen lips and love-filled eyes. 

It lasted well over an hour; neither sated nor wanting it to end. 

She’s conflicted when it does though, in regards of where to sleep. She knows it’s important to put space between them - doesn’t want to settle into comfort too early. But the way he’s holding her she doesn’t ever want to leave his embrace. All too soon she does. Because she has to pee and certainly needs a shower. 

“I’m going to shower.” 

“Okay.” He says as he gets up as well. He’s told her she could use his many times, there’s no point in arguing. 

Ten minutes after he hears the shower stop, he knocks on the bedroom door. 

“Yeah, come in!”

He stops in the doorway and just admires her as she braids her long hair. 

She turns and smiles at him. The admiration between them is ridiculously palpable. 

“Will you be staying in here?” he asks as he moves to close the distance.   

Her smile broadens. “Miss me already?” 

He takes her now idle hands, “Always. Since the moment you took a chance on me.” 

She leans up to delicately kiss the edge of his mouth. 

and the two make their way back to Ethan’s room. 

They get a house, eventually. The condo - which they also bought the adjoining apartment next door and combined into one big penthouse - is their main residency because it’s so close to work. They get a beach house outside the city with a grand piano and bi folding doors overlooking the water. All her most important scores are framed and they have music and books lined the walls floor to ceiling. She plays for as he reads from his chair close by, or she’ll treat him to one of his favorite pieces. Sometimes he’ll play the small bits he knows -- he’s forever trying to find the piece she played for him on her 30th birthday. Ode will never tell him. 

And in a weird way, in all his trials, he seems to be writing an ode to her.  

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This was so long and I don’t care! Thank you so much, anon, please never stop 💞