#i do have fat fingers naturally always had and they get swollen with my illness but I swear they’re not as huge as in the first pic wtf

[lilidawnonthemoon]

[vecnawrites]

Jaune and Pyr wake up early in the morning so that they can start the day with their favorite drink~ Their precious sleeping beauty still asleep even now, good thing they know how to wake her up and have a tasty morning treat.

Loved Writing This One! Kinks: Triad Relationship, Lactation, Sleeping Orgasm, Body Worship, Pyrrha Is Thirsty, No You Can’t Say She Isn’t

“Mmm~” Jaune Arc slowly woke up, surrounded by warmth and comfort, so much so that he nearly drifted directly back to sleep. Warmth surrounded him on both sides, and he knew on one side was May, his first and oldest friend, and on the other, Pyrrha. Really, he could tell due to the snores. He loved the girl, he honestly did, but her snores outdid the snarls of a bellowing angry Ursa. But that was part about what he loved about her. She wanted more than anything to be seen as a normal person, and believe him, it was hard to see her as some unparalleled figure when she snored so...and drooled onto his chest, a large wet patch on his shirt under her cheek.

...and an equally large wet patch was on his other side, making his eyebrows raise, since May was as quiet as a mouse when she slept, barely making noise at all unless she was...stimulated...which admittedly, happened more often than not with the three of them sharing a bed. And she wasn’t one to drool, either. So what was it?

Tilting his head, a small smile and chuckle escaped him. Of course it was. Poor May had leaked in her sleep again, dark spots forming on her pajama top where her milk bled through. She hadn’t been able to milk the past few days and had a great deal of build up...fortunately, it was the weekend and May adored sleeping in, meaning that Pyrrha would wake first.

Which mean that they could help their dear girlfriend...and also be treated to their favorite morning beverage. He licked his lips, feeling his cock twitch in his boxers. Besides the taste, he and Pyrrha both loved their little Sniper’s reactions, the small squeaks of pleasure as she squirmed and trembled beneath them.

He sighed as his cock popped out of his boxers from his fantasy and arousal. That would have to be handled...eventually. For now, he needed to be patient, at least until Pyrrha woke up. Then something could be done...after they helped May...and themselves.

~x~x~x~x~

Pyrrha Nikos woke slowly. Despite her discipline, she hated waking up early, but it was ingrained into her now. From training at dawn from a young age, her body refused to let her sleep any later than daybreak. She heartily despised it.

But it wasn’t without its benefits, she would admit. She no longer woke alone, and that would give her the time to do the most wonderful things to-with! She meant WITH!-her boyfriend and girlfriend. Shifting her head, she whined as she felt her cheek slick with drool. She had never been able to break that habit, nor the one of cuddling with the nearest warm body. Meaning, Jaune or May, or both, if she was lucky enough to snag the middle spot, were her personal teddy ursa!

Today, she knew that Jaune had been her teddy, and she was thankful he never minded her snoring or drooling, something that she always found embarrassing, but he had simply accepted as another part of who she was. Reaching up, her hand cupped against something burning hot and hard as the shaft of Milo, her spear. A lazy smile formed on her face as she already knew what that was. Perhaps she could start the day off right~? A gentle pump got a groan, one too loud to be from a sleeping person. Drat. So, Jaune woke before her, did he? It was rare, but it did happen. Opening her eyes a crack, she stared up into the deep blues that she had fallen in love with. “...morning…” she mumbled. No matter how much she trained, let it be known, Pyrrha Nikos was not a morning person!

“Good morning, Pyrrha…” she heard his soft tone fill her with warmth. “Sleep well?” Pyrrha hummed and shifted, wincing as her saliva had started cooling and was getting cold and thick. “Could have been longer...I was having a nice dream~” she grabbed the blanket and wiped her cheek as she looked down at the large dark spot, giving her boyfriend an apologetic look.

He only chuckled and kissed her lips lightly. “I could tell; you’ve been grinding against my leg for a while now, and you’re still doing it~” Pyrrha blushed, forcing her slowly moving hips to stop, although she whined at the loss of pleasure.

Jaune smiled at her and kissed her again, with Pyrrha eagerly accepting the loving advance, trying to worm her tongue into his mouth, whining and trying to follow as Jaune pulled back. She was soothed as he pecked her on the nose. “Now, now, Pyrrha...later...we have to help May.” seeing him lick his lips made Pyrrha’s heart jump and her stomach growl, and she licked her own lips.

Right...she could start the day with the sweetest, most natural, tastiest beverage on Remnant...her girlfriend’s milk! Peeking over Jaune’s chest, her jaw dropped and she began drooling a bit as she saw dark spots on May’s shirt, the swell of her fat nipples pressing against the thin shirt that they had managed to trick-convince!-their precious Desert Flower to wear.

“Poor May’s gotten backed up...it’d be...cruel to let her continue on like this, wouldn’t it?” Pyrrha nodded so fast Jaune and May were both blurs in her vision. Cruel? It would be inhumane punishment if they left their beloved, delicate Desert Flower to suffer overfilled and constantly leaking breasts! She didn’t deserve that! They would drain that milk...they didn’t have any pumps or containers though, so it would have to be by mouth and into their bellies, but that...that was what good teammates, good boyfriends and girlfriends did! The sacrifice they were making to ensure their teammate’s comfort should be commended!

“Yesh, shwe-” she blushed fiercely, swallowing the saliva that had pooled heavily in her mouth, shying away from her boyfriend’s knowing smile. “Yes...yes, we should help her! We can’t let her suffer for long!”

~x~x~x~x~

It didn’t take long for the boyfriend and girlfriend to settle on either side of the sleeping busty beauty, gently shifting the sleeping sniper onto her back, her massive chest rising and falling, straining and stretching the ill fitting top she wore, buttons looking ready to pop off at any given moment.

Jaune and Pyrrha shared a smile over the “Milky Mountains”, a name they had saddled May’s breasts (and subsequently mortified the poor busty sniper) with and carefully reached up, working together to unbutton her top, both chuckling as the buttons finally gave in halfway through, flying through the air and landing on the bed with muted sounds, her fat breasts settling, fat puffy inverted nipples swollen and beading with milk, the delicate skin shining under the muted morning light.

Carefully, they each hooked a thumb into her shorts that she wore for bottoms, and eased them, and her panties down, revealing her nearly bare slit, a small, fluffy tuft of maroon pubis, trimmed expertly into the shape of the Arc Crescents (and boy, May had shrieked in embarrassment when that was noticed...although Pyrrha immediately had May do it to her, as well) clinging to her mons. Both rubbed their fingers through it, the incredibly soft hair tickling their fingertips as they teased May’s body, watching her cheeks darken a bit as she murmured softly in her sleep. Jaune and Pyrrha shared a smile with one another, before their fingers slid down, down, down...rubbing over her petal soft lips, their fingertips each brushing gently over the sensitive skin.

Sharing a smirk, both opened their mouths and descended, capturing a fat nipple in their mouths, sucking and licking the plump, leaking bud gently. Both moaned as intense, almost cloying sweetness squirted into their mouths, dancing along their tongues, making Pyrrha moan needily, wrapping her leg around May’s and beginning to grind against her thigh.

Likewise, Jaune’s penis had popped out of his boxers and was prodding insistently at the sleeping girl’s hip, but he weathered on, instead sucking gently at the teat in his mouth, throat bobbing as he swallowed mouthfuls of the sweet, nourishing liquid. His cock throbbed, oozing fat, thick drops of precum onto May’s lightly tanned flesh, his tip smearing it into her skin.

They both hear May whimper and moan in her sleep as they suckled her, their fingers rubbing her rapidly moistening core, both humming their contentedness as they drank their fill and worked to empty out their Desert Flower’s swollen, and no doubt aching, breasts.

May’s breath hitched and her moaning increased, her sleeping body shifting, wiggling, turning as she tried to get away from their touches, but their bodies and their own insistent actions keeping her from getting away.

“Mmm~Feels...Oooooo~” May hummed and whimpered in her sleep, her hips bucking upwards into their playfully moving fingers, the pads spreading her quickly leaking slick around, making her mound shiny from her arousal.

Both stayed away from her clit and opening at the moment, content to simply rub her outer lips, sucking and licking, twirling their tongues around the fat, squirting nubs in their mouths, the tips of their tongues slipping into the small slits, toying with the hidden bumps of her nipples.

“eeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP~!” both lovers felt their Desert Flower jerk underneath them, her chest heaving, the milk filled mountains practically smacking them in the face repeatedly as they suckled on her, the action only forcing more of the delectable milk in their mouths.

Glancing up, they saw wide, misty blue eye staring down at them, cheeks flushed bright red with embarrassment, the lower lip of that beautiful face being pinched underneath the clean white glint of her upper teeth.

It was plainly obvious the beautiful, ravished girl was trying to say something, but all that escaped her mouth were squeaks of varying intensity. But neither Jaune or Pyrrha were worried about words, as May’s body was far more honest. Her back was arching on it’s own, pressing her breasts more against their faces, and her thighs fell open more, their noses being invaded with May’s natural, sweet perfume, only raising their own libido’s higher.

~x~x~x~x~

May Zedong was mortified. She hated how her breasts naturally lactated with ease, making so much milk that they had to be milked like a cow. She hated them so much so that she had avoided doing so the past few days...but boy, was she paying for it now. She had gone to bed with an intense, dull ache throbbing away in her teats, and just knew that the next morning would be painful. She hadn’t, thankfully.

...but somehow, this was worse!

Pleasure, intense, stirring, hot like an iron filled her body, making her shake and tremble, her pussy practically a drooling waterfall of her liquid lust. She could feel slim fingers sliding over her slippery valley, and hot, wet suction over the obscenely sensitive fat nubs that she was unfortunate enough to call nipples.

Shame warred with pleasure and outright relief as her milk was drawn out of aching tits and fingers played with her soaking core, still avoiding her dripping little slit and her twitching clit, leaving her tap dancing along the edge of a second orgasm after that intense first one that woke her out of her sleep.

“Eeeeehhhhhmmmmm~” shame filled her as her hips humped upwards, trying to get her boyfriend’s and girlfriend’s fingers to do more than slide around her flooded core. She was so wet she was pretty sure Jaune could slam in full force inside her without any pain! Her tits gushed more milk out into greedy mouths that sucked, licked, twirled tongues around her squirting nipples. Her cheeks burned as she heard the loud swallows both of them, and she glanced down-nopenopenope!-her eye snapped back up and away, knowing if she kept looking into the loving and adoring emerald and sapphire eyes, she would come undone, completely and utterly between them.

Her eye widened as they shifted.

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune and Pyrrha shared a look, seeing their beloved Desert Flower glow under their ministrations, feeling her pussy absolutely gush under their fingertips, her tits letting down and draining into their mouths eagerly, making them swallow more and more, their bellies filling with the delicious drink that was theirs and only theirs.

Their fingers finally moved, Pyrrha wiggling her index and middle fingers into their girlfriend’s tight warmth, beginning to pump them back and forth, marveling at the slick, sticky wetness that clung to her fingertips, Shick, Shick, Shick sounds filling both of their ears as thick strings of her cum gushed from her actions, splattering along her hand and May’s inner thighs.

Jaune, however, retreated upwards, putting his focus onto the emerged little nubbin of May’s clit, his fingertips ghosting over the small bud, spreading the slick that he had acquired over the bundle of nerve endings.

Both smiled into May’s breasts as she bucked like an angry Boarbatusk, outright wailing her bliss to them...and everyone else in the dorms, most likely.

~x~x~x~x~

May thought she could handle it! But no! The attack on her tits, her nipples, her pussy, her clit! All of them worked together to send her over the edge into the most intense orgasm of the week, her body arching and going taut as a bowstring as her pussy gushed, her clear slick squirting out of her flexing and gripping pussy as Pyrrha continued to finger her pussy and Jaune tweaked and toyed with her little bundle of nerves.

“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAA~♥♥♥~!!!” May heard a scream faintly in her own ears, but knew with shame that it was her. Her boyfriend and girlfriend had made her cum and scream...without even doing much! Damn her sensitive nipples!

What was worse was neither backed down while she was cumming, both continued to finger her, rub her clit, and suck on her still leaking tits!

She slumped as she came down from the cresting high, a myriad creeping around the edges of her sight, and she blushed deeply, glad that today was the weekend, meaning they wouldn’t be missed. Because she could feel them...Pyrrha was grinding against her thigh, leaving sticky wetness against it, and Jaune...well, no one could ignore his burning sword poking them.

She fumbled, trying to move her pinned arms, but neither Juane nor Pyrrha let her up, instead continuing to please her, quickly bringing her arousal up again, making her mewl in a mixture of want and fear. She knew her boyfriend and girlfriend. She knew they could love her body, worship her breasts and pussy and everything in between, for hours on end! And with no classes today…

“MmmmmmmMMMMMMM~♥♥♥~!!” she clenched around Pyrrha’s fingers again in a minor, more muted, orgasm. Where had she been? Oh, yes…

...with no classes today...she’d be loved and worshiped, fucked and filled all day. Her cunt quivered around Pyrrha’s fingers as she realized Jaune would fuck her and fill her pussy, her womb up...he would breed her...and if she was lucky...her breath began getting faster as she imagined it...if she was lucky, Pyrrha would bury her face between her thighs and eat her out after Jaune had emptied his balls into her belly! Before moving up and sharing the creamy treat with her, their tongues tangling and swapping the deliciously salty-sweet flavor of their boyfriend~

“HHHHMMMMMMMM♥♥♥♥~!” May’s eye rolled up into her head as she came again. Brothers, she loved her boyfriend and girlfriend…

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune and Pyrrha hummed happily as their girlfriend relaxed between them, both of them content to drain the breast before them for the time being. Their pleasure would come. This was the weekend, they could do with it what they wanted. And if they wanted to spend the day in their dorm making love to their Desert Flower? That’s what they would do!

[thorkidumpster]

detail your sin

woooo boy i just can’t stop writing about these norse bros bein’ bros. warnings for bottom!thor and talk of pregnancy kink.

this was originally teased on my main blog, but is now obvs being posted here in its entirety.

Thor licks his dry lips, then licks them again. The plug inside him burns, but not as much as the humiliation that churns in his stomach at the thought of anyone finding out—his co-workers, his friends, his students...

He's a respected teacher at Shield High, well loved for his easy-going nature and tendency to forgo homework when the mood strikes him. He works out five times a week and volunteers at a food bank, always gives generously without strings, and loves when his brother fucks him in the ass and stuffs him with cum.

The final bell rings and Thor exhales long and slow, as though he were in the middle of a yoga stretch and not fighting back the halfie that's been chubbing up for most of the day.

(When his kids asked why he hadn't been bouncing around the room with his usual exuberance, he blushed red and said, “Leg day,” which made the football players in the room wince with sympathy.)

With shaking, but purposeful hands, Thor begins to pack up his desk as soon as the last student has walked out with a cheerful, “Have a nice weekend, Mister Odinson!” tossed over her shoulder.

Loki is waiting at home, he knows, probably lounging on the couch or eating all his junk food in the name of 'getting rid' of it because it's awful for him. As though, of course, it weren't equally as awful for Loki—but bring that point up and Loki gets shifty eyed, prickly. More that he wants to eat is so Thor can't have it, because apparently Loki's a four-year-old hiding in a thirty-five-year-old's body.

Getting up from his chair produces a sharp twinge in his ass, and Thor winces. He exhales slowly around the burn of pain and arousal. Just a few feet out of the building, then the parking lot, then up his apartment stairs—twenty feet to the door, and—

Thor licks his dry lips, very much in danger of getting a full on erection in his place of work and a building that happens to be stuffed to the brim with children.

Deep breaths.

And maybe his laptop bag in front of his crotch, just in case.

– – – 

Thor barely has the door unlocked and opened before a pale hand reaches out and yanks him into the apartment. Loki's beautiful like this, with his sharp smile and green eyes that always seem to be guarding secrets—even in old jeans and a worn thin shirt, Loki is capable of making Thor's mouth go dry with desire for him.

Loki pulls him close, his hands tangling in the fabric of Thor's button-down shirt. “And how was work?” he purrs, those eyes flashing with amusement.

“Funnily enough,” Thor replies, grabbing Loki by the hips and kicking the door closed behind him. His shoes are carelessly toed off and knocked aside. “I was pretty distracted.”

“Oh?” Clever fingers undo Thor's buttons and Loki guides them back into the living room. “I wonder why?”

Thor catches those teasing lips in a kiss. “You know why.”

“Because my dear brother is a cock hungry slut?” Loki chuckles, low in his throat, dark and thrilling. “Want me to fill you up again?”

Before Thor can answer, Loki's spun them around and a hand presses on Thor's back, pushing him towards the couch. Thor tears off his shirt, yanking it off over his head and tossing it wherever. Humming, Loki's fingers skim the waistband of Thor's slacks, dipping in just an inch.

“I kept thinking about you,” Thor confesses. He reaches behind and catches one of Loki's hands to bring around to the front of him—Loki molds to his back, the ever-present sly voice in his left ear, and murmurs a pleased curse when Thor kisses those fingers. “I could barely teach.”

“Oh, dear,” Loki says, voice a deep purr, “Am I to be responsible for the ruination of today's youth?”

Thor snorts. “Don't give yourself so much credit.”

Loki nips him on the ear for that, just hard enough to hurt. “I may have been distracted today, as well.” His hand drops to undo Thor's belt and fly, carelessly brushing over his brother's cock. Hard and wanting, it has pretty much permanently stained Thor's underwear over the course of the day. When Thor's pants are finally undone, Loki presses his palm to it, holding his brother's cock like it were a treasure.

“Oh?” Thor says, but the noise comes more like a gasp.

“Thinking of this,” Loki murmurs, stroking his hand over the covered shaft. “Thinking of your asshole and how you begged to be plugged this morning. Is my come still in you, brother?”

Thor licks his lips and tugs down his pants, boxers and all. Eager to get his hand on Thor's naked cock, Loki only helps until it's freed, then he's plastered himself to his brother again, tugging at his thick cock with one hand and combing through the smattering of hair on Thor's abdomen with the other.

“Only one way to find out,” Thor replies. He leans into his brother, feels the soft rub of that old shirt against the skin of his back—when Thor turns his head, Loki kisses him, a rough thing with the press and nip of teeth.

“Indeed. I want to see...” Loki shoves Thor forward a step. “Come on, over the couch. Show me how desperate you are.”

And god, that's what Thor's been waiting for all day. He drops his trousers and settles on his knees, smirking at the sound Loki makes as he bends over, presenting his ass all scratched around that damn plug.

There's a rustle of fabric, then the t-shirt's thrown next to Thor's face. It's almost enough to make him turn back around, because Loki's chest is a sight he'll never get sick of—just the thought of sucking on one of Loki's dark nipples is enough to make him bite his lip.

Loki glides his hands down the toned muscles of Thor's back, his nails catching ever-so-lightly and making Thor shiver. “Look at you. Look how bad you want your brother's cock.” He kisses the divots right above Thor's ass, one after the other, his tongue darting out to taste the salt of his skin. “And this.”

Thor groans as Loki runs a finger over the base of the plug, and the sound echoes in the living room.

“What would they say, brother,” Loki's breath is hot sin in his ear, the words curling like rich wood smoke, “if all your esteemed co-workers could see you now?”

He doesn't mention Thor's students, and Thor's so, so grateful for that, because his world is already shuddering and cracking—what would they do? What would the old librarian say? Or Becca, who teaches English to freshmen right across the hall and flirts shyly with him over lunch?

If they could see him like this, bent over for his own brother, thighs shaking as Loki traces a lazy finger around the plug in Thor's ass... His rim tightens with each circle.

Thor knows it's impossible, but he swears he can feel the loads of come inside him—Loki had been randy when they woke up, whispering beautiful, loving filth as he fucked Thor in the watery and pale light of the morning.

The plug had been his own idea, and the look of heady wonder on Loki's face made Thor wish they were teenagers again.

Loki presses his lips to Thor's ear, then the pulse-point of his neck, down his shoulder-blades, and over the knobs of his spine.

“Look how wet you are,” Loki praises—he always has, forever dropping charming words like golden coins, well loving the way they make his brother tremble. “Did you think about me today? Hm?” A slender finger presses against Thor's rim, then pops into his slick hole along side of the plug.

“Yes,” Thor slurs, because of course he did. Every shift, every step, every time he sat, his hole clenched on the unyielding toy. “Brother—Loki, please...”

Loki chuckles. His other hand traces the hard flex of Thor's abdominals. “Do you need another load? Of course you do, what am I saying... I'm going to stuff you and plug you over and over, brother. If you're not fat and pregnant by the end of the weekend, I didn't do my job.”

Thor thinks he might choke; the couch cushion presses into his face, the fabric damp and stained dark with drool. “Loki—”

“Can you even imagine?” His brother whispers reverently. Loki's thumb strokes the ridges of muscle on Thor's stomach, tender, and Loki can't seem to stop kissing the dip of his spine. “Carrying my child? The world would know that you were my cockslut—mine, mine, all mine. Ohhh...” he exhales with a shudder. “I'd make you so much bigger, brother. Let me.”

Bigger, his brother says. But Loki has always loved Thor's size—ever since they were teenagers and Thor's biceps began to swell with the casual strength of a young man. Or when Thor worked on his pectorals, just to see Loki's lips part at the sight of that thick, meaty flesh.

Bigger.

Thor will be bigger for his brother.

Thor arches his back with a grunt—yes, god, yes, and everyone would know his depravity—fucking his own twin brother, his own flesh and blood, his mirror in every way—

Loki eases out the toy and hums in satisfaction. His hole must be so sloppy, so open and wet—a drop slides down his perineum and Thor can't tell if it's lube or his brother's come. Whatever it is, Loki chases it with his tongue, licking a hot stripe behind his balls and buries it back in Thor's ass.

“Fuck...”

There's a moment where Thor just closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling of his brother's tongue soothing the raw ache of his spread hole, but it's here and gone, because Loki pops off, intent on continuing his super-villain monologue. Still, Thor wastes no time in hissing his disapproval. “Loki, you bastard, I swear to god—”

He twists his head around to glare fully at Loki. There's a thoughtful, intrigued look on his face that bodes ill. Then his mouth, glistening with spit and lube, stretches into a wide, devilish grin. “I wonder how many times I can come in here before you get fat with it?”

Heat pours through Thor; he can just imagine, his belly swollen like he had a few too many beers, only instead of being evidence of a night out with the boys, it'd be because his brother unloaded his balls until they turned to prunes. Thor licks his lips. “I bet you couldn't,” he says, because nothing riles Loki up more than being told he can't. “I bet you'd be worn out after just one go.”

Loki cocks his head, a tightness coming to his eyes. Gotcha. “Do you think so?” he replies. His grin turns a touch crueler—it's a good look on him. He leans forward to bump his clothed hips into Thor's ass; a promise of a good, hard fuck. “I have more than enough to satisfy you, brother. But maybe I won't come in your ass; maybe I'll just fuck your tits, make you walk around with my spunk under your shirt.”

Thor can tell he's blushing; there's heat burning down his neck and his ears go hot. Of course Loki can tell—he can always tell—and his green eyes narrow into pleased, half-moon slits.

The zzippp! of Loki's fly seems to resonate in Thor's chest. His belly goes molten; his cock, so hard it leaks onto the nice rug. “But no, brother. I promised to get you pregnant, and I intend to do everything in my power to make that happen.”

Thor's all open and wet for his brother, and he wiggles his ass a little, stretching back to display himself further. Loki's belt clinks as he pulls his pants down, his breaths rough and forced. Then he can feel it, the blunt press of his brother's cockhead, teasing at his messy entrance.

“I should make you beg,” Loki hisses. But he's impatient—the game is well and good up until this point, and that's when Loki starts to let himself unravel, so eager to be buried in Thor's ass.

So Thor just smirks to himself and says, “Can you wait that long?” He pushes back before Loki's sharp reply comes. He's so loose that he takes the swollen tip of Loki's cock with no resistance; it slides in like it was made to fit.

In that moment, Loki's moan sounds almost worshipful. Loki fucks deeper into Thor's hole, far harder than he would be able to take if he hadn't already been stretched from the plug. Loki is near incapable of sweet, slow lovemaking when he's the one giving the fucking—that's Thor's expertise. No, there's always a barely concealed desperation to Loki's thrusts, his clinging, scrapping hands, the harshness of his panting as he drives himself into his brother as though he would not be allowed another chance.

“Thor,” Loki gasps, “Thor, Thor, Thor.”

Thor grunts in response, lifting his hips to accept his brother's fucking—he's dying from the hunger of it, the burning of his hole igniting the arousal that's simmered low his his belly all day, since their round that morning when Loki got that devilish glint in his eyes at the sight of the packaged, hot pink plug.

Loki's moans are more like whines now, high pitched in the back of his throat; his greedy hands palm Thor's meaty tits, squeezing and pulling at his nipples as if to milk him. “Ah!” Thor grits out, a steady stream of yes's and harder's and more like that, brother, please's falling from his lips.

But Thor's cock is pounding; he's been forced by the weight of Loki further up onto the couch and his cock is rubbing raw on the fabric. He worms a hand down only intending to rearrange to draw out this good fuck, but the tight grip he gets on himself combined with the pounding into his hole feels too divine to stop.

“That's it,” Loki says between hard draws of air. “Come on.”

It's a race now, as it always is—a race of who will come first. Thor jerks himself, eager to squeeze his orgasm out around the thickness of his brother's cock, and Loki fucks faster if only because he's driven to win no matter what stupid competition they might be having.

The air around them is thick when their gasps and the smell of sweat. Thor can feel his orgasm tightening in his balls, eager to burst out. He whines, high, and Loki digs his fingers harder into the meat of Thor's pecs, groping mercilessly.

“These... fucking... tits,” Loki grinds out. “Fuck.”

“Come on, brother,” Thor says, goading. He flexes his chest muscles and Loki swears and gasps and comes with a loud groan that resonates in Thor’s chest. Loki's strong hips keep pumping, driving his come deep inside his brother, as though it might truly find a place to take root.

Thor is, by his measure, patient to the point of sainthood as he waits, hard and wanting, for Loki to gingerly slide himself out.

“Ha,” Loki says as a fat drop of seed follows his cock and drips down the back of Thor's balls. “Maybe that'll knock you up.”

But for all his gloating, Loki eases himself back a few inches and guides Thor with a hand on his waist as Thor turns over to rest on his calves. His cock bobs in the air. Looking down, Thor can see the marks Loki's left on him—great red scratches along the ridge of his tits, partially hidden by the spattering of sandy hair that travels down his navel and nuzzles the base of his cock.

Loki purrs at the sight. “You always looked your best freshly fucked.”

Thor hums. “And how do I look after I've come?”

“Divine.” Loki slides back between Thor's open knees and leans over his brother. A smooth, soft hand grips Thor's cock and Thor groans at it; the other once again finds a hold on his pec, a thumb stroking over one of the scratches. As Loki works his cock, he bends his head down and presses his brow to Thor's—the heat of their breath mingles and Thor's heart overwhelms at just how intimate this feels.

Thor cups Loki's neck, keeping him close, always close, because twins should never be apart—his orgasm is coming, building, and Loki's hand moves faster, like he can sense it, his fist closing tighter. Thor chokes, drawing his brother closer, fusing their mouths together in a kiss that's artless and clumsy and perfect and Thor's gone, his abdomen seizing as he pumps out his love for his brother in thick spurts, all over Loki's hand as he whispers, “That's it, that's it,” against Thor's lips.

“Oh, fuck,” Thor gasps. His head falls back, not quite touching the couch cushion. “Shit, shit, don't let it get on the carpet—”

“What am I, fourteen?” Loki snorts. “Keep tight then, or you'll drip.”

Thor clicks his teeth. “What am I, fourteen?” he mimics back.

Loki just narrows his eyes and raises his hand. “I swear I will smear this in your beard.”

“Ew,” Thor huffs. “Go wash your hand, Jesus.”

Rolling his eyes and bitching under his breath, Loki gets up to do just that, though the act of standing brings on a fresh wave of complaints about knees and being old as he makes his way to the connected kitchen to clean up.

Now that the searing throb of his orgasm has faded to a pleasant warmth, Thor can certainly empathize with his brother—his legs are killing him, all bent up the way they are, and Thor unfolds them and clambers to his feet with a hiss.

The tap from the kitchen faucet turns off and Loki reappears with a handful of damp paper towels. “C'mere, old man.”

“I'm ten minutes older than you, brat.”

Loki snorts, but a small, secret smile lifts his lips. “I can't believe I'm with such an older man,” he teases. “A whole ten minutes. Scandalous.”

Thor reaches for the paper towels—and Loki makes a play at keeping them away until Thor snatches them—“I know. Who knew I'd get saddled with someone so inexperienced?”

“Inexperienced—”

With a laugh, Thor pulls Loki closer and kisses him, muffling the insults until Loki, with a very distinct huff, softens his mouth and lets himself being kissed properly. But he can't ever let Thor feel like he's won the round, because as soon as Thor pulls away and bumps their noses, Loki grumbles, “Just go wipe my jizz out of your ass,” and pushes Thor off.

Still, Loki follows him to the bathroom, crowding around the sink as he washes off his cock, because everywhere one goes, the other will always follow.

Except, Thor thinks with a touch of bitterness, when it seems like fate wants to keep them apart. Loki might stay for a few days, maybe a week. But as soon as a project at work catches his eye, he'll fly off back to the other side of the country to return to work and the flat Loki might call home but Thor refuses to acknowledge as such.

“Should we order in?” Thor asks after their post-sex rituals of cleaning have been completed and they're back sprawled on the couch clad in housepants or, in Loki's case, a pair of boxers that Thor strongly suspected might've been stolen from his underwear drawer. The windows have been opened to air out the scent of sex, and a breeze rolls its merry way into the living room.

Loki gives him A Look. Not a moment latter, the doorbell rings. Loki heaves himself up and answers the door, completely unashamed. “Oh,” Thor hears over the wave of Jesus fuck Loki why, “Well, put them over there, I suppose.”

He steps back to allow a pair of men through, both studiously avoiding eye contact with a nonplussed Thor, and carrying a packed cardboard box each.

“Uh?”

“What?” Loki says. “I told you I was coming to stay.”

“I thought—,” Thor stammers.

“Oh, don't do that.” Loki reaches over and pats his cheek. “It doesn't suit you. Now, where should I set up my desk...”

“But you—”

Loki turns to face him, and there's a moment—just the briefest moment—where Loki's face is open, vulnerable, like when they were children. But it's gone in the toss of sleek black hair of a broad and pale shoulder. “I told you,” Loki repeats, slow, like Thor's an exceptionally dim child, “that I was coming to stay.”

He comes over and reaches a hand to cup Thor's neck—a gesture that Thor mirrors without thought. Loki's come home.

“So stop being so fucking stupid, okay?”

“But your work?”

“Funnily enough,” Loki sniffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “it's pretty easy to find a job as an architect wherever you go. And there's some bank building a new headquarters downtown that needs designs.”

Thor touches their foreheads. “You're such a shit. A conniving, scheming shit.”

“Tell me you don't love my surprises.”

“Mm,” Thor hums. Mindful of the movers still carrying in package after package because apparently Loki needs every single one of his worldly possessions, Thor leans down and presses a soft kiss to Loki's ear. “I love you, brother.”

Loki's hand grips his neck a touch tighter; his thumb runs just under Thor's jaw and he knows Loki is returning the sentiment.

link for ao3. if you liked it, please consider dropping me a comment :)

[athenasnina]

Wherever You Are Is My Home

An old fic I wrote forever ago. AO3 Enjoy :)

It'd taken forever getting everyone down the tower and through the long trip out of Polis, but they were finally back at Arkadia. All their people safe and sound - physically anyway. Mentally... everyone would be dealing with the repercussions of ALIE for a long time to come.

If they survived this coming apocalypse, that is.

When Clarke had told Bellamy of what was coming - of how much time they had – he’d been speechless. The ground, it seemed, was only one horror after another. And there are some times - late at night, when he's drunk too much or just in a gloomy, contemplative mood - when he wonders if it was worth it. Was leaving the Ark worth all this pain? All this suffering? There's been so much death and destruction in the six months they've been here.

But then he remembers Octavia's smile as her feet touched the ground for the first time, riding Helios and slowly coming into her own. She'd come so far from the little girl he hid beneath the floor.

He still feels the sting of healing cuts on his face - tight and itchy. They'll heal and they'll fade, but his guilt, his remorse, the memory of the look on his sister's face as she became a wild and vengeful thing taking out her grief on him, would always stay with him. Would always haunt him.

And he’d like to say that was the only horror he’d remember when it came to the people he cared for most, but the ground is never that kind. Memories of Kane’s face, cold and determined as he choked the life out of him crop up in his mind’s eye, making every breath he takes burn just a little bit more. The man had been under ALIE’s control, Bellamy knows that, but that face – that expression. It was almost as painful as the dismissive, disappointed one he’d held for Bellamy after everything that’d gone down with Pike.

With a low groan of the door Bellamy's head snaps to the right. Jackson had promised to return shortly to begin Bellamy's examination. Abby's young protégé informing Bellamy that everyone was to be checked out - even grumpy guardsmen who insisted they were fine. Bellamy had eyed him as the man skittishly reviewed Bellamy's file, reading down the list of his medical history. His hands shook, and his eyes never met Bellamy's, shifting everywhere but.

He was obviously still reeling from being under ALIE's control, and for a long moment Bellamy wondered how wise a decision it was to allow this man to treat others while still so broken himself. But the awful truth was, there was no one on this Earth who wasn't broken in some way. And sadly, there were only a handful of medically trained professionals.

But when the heavy door slides open it's not a head of short brown hair that sneaks in, but short blonde hair, newly shorn just above slender shoulders.

"Clarke." It comes out hoarse and broken, and he can feel himself blush.

She closes the door with a clang before striding confidently to the small table that sits against the wall, footfalls echoing in the tiny room.

He tries clearing his throat, but damn that just hurts like a motherfucker, sharp and raw, and he actually has to take a moment to hold back the tears that spring up at the sudden pain.

"What are you doing here?" he croaks, trying again. It isn’t any better, but he’s determined to ignore it as best he can.

His eyes fix on the short hair as she studies his medial chart. It's mesmerizing to see it that way - her hair. All the time he's ever known her it was always so long. Longer even when he found her tide to a post underground. He remembers the feel of it, the stiff strands dirty against his calloused fingers as he pushed it from her face with such affection.

The word makes his stomach roll and his heart stutter. He hadn't known then - he'd felt it, felt his heart soar and nearly burst with... something - but he hadn't known what it was, hadn't allowed himself to admit it.

He loved her. He loves her.

When she turns to look at him he can only blink, inhaling deeply and wincing. "You cut your hair." It's obviously said as a statement and he suddenly feels like the biggest idiot. Of course she's aware of the fact that she cut her own damn hair.

"Yeah," she says tentatively. "I uh..." She presses her lips together. "I just needed a change."

Her eyes are sad - a deep shade of blue that shifts like mist. "And the knots were ridiculous. I practically forced Raven to cut the damn thing."

Bellamy nods, solemnly at first, but then with a small quirk of his lips, because he realizes that's what she needs right now. A lightness, or at least a pretense of it to cast over the gloom of everything too heavy to take at the moment.

"Looks good." And that was definitely true. It looked very good. Clean and shining. The natural waves sweeping down past her chin, curling around each other like golden silk.

"Well, as long as I have your approval," she says dryly.

He rolls his eyes, leaning a forearm on his knee as he releases a sigh. "I was giving you a compliment."

"I know," she admits with a small smile. "Thank you." She runs her fingers through the blonde locks. "Feels lighter, that's a lot nicer."

He nods, trying to show his interest without it being too obvious how interested he really is. When the silence reaches out between them for too long he clears his throat without thinking. His flinch earns him a dirty look. "So what are you doing here? Thought Jackson was coming back?"

"He was but... my... mom needed him."

Bellamy frowns at the stilted sentence.

"He asked me to come check on you," she whips out hastily. Her head ducks down suddenly at the medical report in her hand. "So, it says everything is fine—”

“I told him that.”

“But,” she starts, giving him a look, “you may have some damage to your throat.”

“Really?” he deadpans, voice rough like sandpaper over skin. “Ya think?”

She scowls disapprovingly, and he has an urge to smooth that small crease between her brows. What would she do if he touched her like that, he wonders. Without preamble or any real excuse, just touching for the sake of making each other feel better. He’s about to do with that thought what he always does with such wanderings of his mind, and push it as far back as he can, hide it far away until another moment comes up and it’s once again thrust into the spotlight. But before he can her fingers are on him, calloused yet gentle round his bruised neck. He’s so surprised he starts at her touch.

She pulls away, hands hanging in the air between them. “I’m sorry. Too cold?”

Compared to him she’s a fucking ice cube, but that’s not really the problem. “It’s fine,” he relents gruffly, which has less to do with his damaged throat and more to do the affect her touch has on him.

He tries to control his breathing when her hands return to his neck – he’s given up on his frantic heart – taking steady, shallow breaths, mesmerized by the way her hair sways lightly with every slow release of air.

“It’s definitely bruised.” Her thumb brushes beneath his eye. “Petechiae may take a few days to disappear.” And with her hands ghosting gently across the soft skin between his jaw and his throat, her eyes inspect the broken, discolored skin around his neck. “Along with any abrasions,” she adds sadly.

His already swollen throat feels suddenly tighter. His chest taut as he tries to hold back the onslaught of emotions that have crept up out of nowhere. He thinks he has it all under control until her eyes finally meet his, and they’re swimming in tears, chin trembling.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice just as hoarse as is.

He blinks slowly, hand wrapping around her forearm as she cradles his jaw.

“Don’t.” And he knows it’s not just about him, knows that she’s not only apologizing for his injury but also her mother’s, Jackson’s, Kane’s and every other fucking person that she had no control over, because that’s who Clarke Griffin is. Octavia liked to joke, calling him Atlas, heavy with the weight of the world on his shoulders, but the truth was it was Clarke. So desperate to fix the world and take all its ills onto herself.

A tear drops fat and heavy from her eye, and his heart shatters at the sight. “I can’t save anyone.”

He slides his hand around the back of her neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape, thumb stroking her jaw so that they are a mirror image of each other. And it’s meant to be hard, be grounding, to force her to listen because what he’s about to say is absolutely the most important thing he ever has.

“You save me.”

He squeezes her forearm, brows raising. “You always save me.” He licks his lips, hesitant to continue, to make himself so vulnerable, but she deserved to hear it, even if she had to know already.

“I need you.”

He isn’t sure what he was expecting from her after that, to deny it and shake her head perhaps. Maybe breakdown and start crying anew. But this- this sudden resolve in her eyes as she blinks away her tears, her chin raising just a bit higher, is certainly not it.

She pulls him forward, leaning in herself till their foreheads are touching. It’s so surprising, so intimate he can’t help but release a sudden breath, running like fire up his throat and mingling with her own. She moves minutely, nuzzling her nose against his and he feels like he’s fucking floating. The pain in his throat and around his neck, the bruises and cuts that litter his body, the memories of all his past mistakes; all gone.

“You have me.”