#my head feels like it's a pressurized and full of water and ready to explode

[crazysodomite]

every time i start spiraling and can't hold it in i feel like a stressed out animal locked in a concrete box just scratching and scratching at the walls until i understand that i can't get through the wall and get tired

[zentraex]

Wishing on World Wish Day is a funny thought. Magic doesn’t exist in our world. Still, trying doesn’t hurt, right? Maybe your favourite fictional character comes to life?

Remember: English is a lot different than German. I apologise for any grammar mistakes.

Trigger Warnings: Manipulation, Yandere, Mentioning of Masturbation, Stalking

From Another World

Monday, 29. April 2024

Dear Diary,

Today is World Wish Day. Normally, I don't believe in that, but what's wrong with giving it a try, right? After all, no one will know but you, so it's worth a try, even if it's just for fun.

I'm totally obsessed with this anime: "My Hero Academia". It's been a long time since I've watched the anime and yet I can't stop throwing my money out the window for merch. After all this time, I still read fanfictions about Katsuki. I wish someone like him would exist in real life, or better yet, he would exist, explicitly. Do you think he'd like me then? I hope so. I like him so much that my heart wouldn't take it if he hated me.

With red cheeks, you close the book and grin to yourself. It's a silly entry, but you still love to think about "what if..." situations.

And what better day to try than World Wish Day?

Maybe, just maybe, the wish will come true after all.

You giggle again, what a stupid thought.

_

A loud noise that you can't assign wakes you up the next day. Tired, you rub your eyes and glance at your phone's clock.

It's an hour before your alarm goes off and you need to get ready for school. Smiling, you lie down again, but the rumbling in your apartment startles you up.

Your parents are on vacation and you should be alone.

A burglar...

is your first thought. Your heart pounds against your chest as you reach for the baseball bat in your closet. It was a gift from your childhood friend. You don't have any contact with them anymore, but you find it difficult to detach yourself from things.

Who would have thought that it could be of use after all?

The sleepiness is completely gone and adrenaline is pumping in your veins. Completely in a state of euphoria, you are not even silent as you rush into the living room, club firmly in your grip and ready to strike.

Of course, the burglar notices you. Your footsteps are not quiet. But don't worry, someone like him would even notice you if you sneaked up.

It's dark, you can only vaguely see his head turned in your direction.

You swing with full power...

...

...

...

... but suddenly it explodes, your bat. The blast causes you to fall back to the floor of your room and the smell of smoke blocks your nasal cavities. Your breath is shaking and your body trembles.

Was the explosion real?

You don't even have time to think about it, because a few milliseconds after your impact, the burglar grabs you by the face and pushes your upper body down. You can feel how he puts pressure on your body with his legs, not only immobilizing you completely, but also causing you immense pain.

What do you do in such a situation?

Right! Crying and begging.

"T-Take what you want," you begin as fat balls of water flow through your face. "Just not the family pictures, my mother is very attached to them. Please don't take my beloved father's trophy either, he's so proud of them," you sniff. "A-and please don't take the necklace in my jewelry box. It's a family heirloom."

The otherwise silent room fills itself with your sobs as you tell him about the things that are worth so much to you and your family. He doesn't say anything.

You're scared. Your field of vision is blocked by his hand, it stinks of smoke, you are immobilized and everything hurts. All the while, the burglar is silent.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he says after a while.

"Huh?"

The grip on your face comes loose and your watery eyes show you a blurry gray vision of a man. His voice sounds like Bakugou's.

"You kidnapped me, why are you begging like a baby now?"

It takes a while for you to be able to process the info. The last heavy drops roll down your cheeks and your vision are clearing. There is a man in front of you and he has light, spiky hair and a prominent face that you would recognize anywhere.

"B-Bakugou?" it slips out of you. "A Bakugou cosplayer?"

He looks and sounds one-on-one like Bakugou, your beloved anime character.

At the mention of his name, his grips tighten again, eliciting a whimper from you.

"I'll give you ten seconds. Tell me who you are and how you know my name. Why am I here?"

"I-I'm Reader a-and I know the character you're cosplaying because I'm a huge fan of him, a-"

He interrupts you by putting a hand on your mouth.

"Figure that I cosplay? I'm real."

Shit, I'm dying at the hands of a maniac...

He looks at you for a while before speaking again.

"I'm going to let you go now, turn on the lights. Don't do shit, you’ll regret it."

He doesn't let go of you until you nod. For the first time, you can breathe properly, but your limbs still hurt unbearably. On shaky legs, you walk to the light switch and then turn towards the person.

Now that you can see it closely, you notice that he looks like the real Bakugou down to the smallest detail.

Crazy...

When you look into his eyes, you notice how he looks around the room. Your whole walls are full of him, your bed is full of plushies, and your closets have a whole bunch of Bakugou figurines. Even your pajamas have a Bakugou pattern.

"Are you a stalker? Shit, ended up with a lunatic."

"What? No! I'm just a huge fan of him."

He then just clicks his tongue and crosses his arms.

"Stop talking like I'm not real."

In the meantime, your pulse has regulated itself again. Maybe that's why you find the courage to raise your eyebrows skeptically and cross your arms.

"No, you're not. Bakugou is a fictional character. You really need to get help, my friend."

Then he says with gnashing teeth: "No, I'm not."

"Oh, yes? How do you think I get all the close-ups of you?"

He seems to pause and steps closer to the images. His gaze scans them all: the moment he collapsed in front of Deku after fighting him, when he was kidnapped by the League of Villains and sat tied up in a chair, when he fought Deku and Ochako with Ida on the team, and many more. More precisely, all the defining moments of his life are glued to your wall, just not from his perspective.

He has to swallow as he lets it sink in.

Could you be telling the truth?

No way, right? He experienced it! He can feel and think, how can he be fictional?

But then why do you have all these memories?

Suddenly, he is plagued by a headache and nausea almost makes him spit up.

Was his life just a show for people like you? Was it never about saving lives? To be a hero? All his work, courage, heroic deeds were not self-willed, but written by someone?

But he's here now, isn't he? He's made it to the real world, so he's thinking for himself now, isn't he?

But how did he do it?

His gaze wanders to you, who looks at him expectantly.

It must have something to do with you. After all, he's in your house for a reason, right?

Did you bring him to life?

"Look, I'm serious. I'm real. The explosion earlier, can anyone else do that?"

Your eyes widen, you've totally forgotten about it in the heat of the moment. A normal person can't do that, so how did he do it?

You are silent and your silence gives him the answer he needs.

"See? Maybe I was fictional, but you must have brought me here somehow."

Me?

Your gaze wanders to your journal and the idea that your wish has come true pops up.

Can it be?

Impossible...

It was just a stupid thought, a little joke to yourself. Magic doesn't exist in your world, but how do you explain this situation?

Suddenly, your heart is beating like crazy and your body is getting all hippy.

Bakugou Katsuki? Real? In your house?

However, the fan-girl in you only comes out briefly when you realize that you're not just standing in front of your big hero in your pajamas, but he's standing in your fan-girl room.

You can't even put into words the shame you suddenly feel when the blush goes to your head.

"S-So you're real, huh?" you say quietly. "That's cool."

Nervously, you play with your sweaty fingers and quickly realize how overwhelmed you actually are.

What are you doing now? What's the best way to deal with the situation?

"What do we do now? My parents are on vacation, so you can't stay here forever."

He frowns thoughtfully and asks, "How long are they on vacation?"

"Four days to go. I don't know if that's enough to find a way to bring you back to your world...", you murmur.

Bakugou pauses for a moment.

His world, huh? The world in which he is only fictional, controlled by the ideas of a stranger.

Does he really want that?

_

By now you're at school and Bakugou is alone in your house, bored. The TV program only brings junk, which is why his gaze wanders around your room all the time – nothing better to do anyway.

Something has been confusing him since the beginning of his arrival...

This strange feeling...

This feeling of...

Pride?

Proud that he is being loved here like this. Of course, in his world he also had fans, but no real ones. It elicits a grin full of arrogance from him.

He wants to feel it, recognition, appreciation, love.

Without much thought, he goes out and runs in any direction.

You are home in a series of apartment blocks close to the city center. So, it doesn't take long until he hears the first people talking about him.

"Oh my God, look at this Bakugou cosplay! How good is that?"

"How well taken!"

"Can I take a picture with you?"

This goes on all the time.

In the beginning it feels good, very good.

But...

Something is bothering him....

That he is not recognized as himself, but only as a costume. He puts his hands in his pocket and walks back with an annoyed expression. Almost at your apartment block, you run into him.

While he remains as still as a board, you almost fall over when you two collide.

"Bakugou!" you breathe a sigh of relief. You look like you've been scared, your skin sweaty and your eyes wide open. "I thought you didn't like it with me or something..."

Something is happening in him again.

He can't even describe this feeling...

No matter what it is, he likes it, very much and he has to pull himself together so that he doesn't start grinning.

"What are you doing out here?"

"I've had a look around here."

You smile and nod in understanding. In the meantime, you have calmed down and can think clearly again.

"I wanted to go to the library today and see if there are some solutions to bring you back. Do you want to come with me?"

Then his brow furrows again and he clicks his tongue.

"I don't have time for that."

Instead of being sad about the answer, you have to giggle. You've already expected such an answer, after all, you know him – and you love him just the way he is.

"That's okay. Here's the key to getting up. I'll see you later."

Deep down, he hopes you can't find a way to bring him back to his world.

_

You didn't find a way, not even for the next four days. Your only guess is that you'll have to wish him back next year on World Wish Day.

Hopefully this will work out...

As much as you like him, your favorite character doesn't belong to your world. Here, he has no IDs, people only know him as a character, he can't live the life as a hero that he wants to and he doesn't have a place to stay.

His life would be a disaster here and you don't wish that for him.

But how do I make it possible for him to live here for a year?

Your front door rings and your face turns pale.

Your parents...

As you walk to your door with your legs shaking like crazy, you swear your heart stopped for a second.

"Reader, you should have told us about the current situation!"

...

"And you could have introduced us to your boyfriend earlier!"

What?

Your gaze wanders to Bakugou, who smirks at you while your mother hugs him.

"My poor son-in-law, you were afraid of ending up on the street after your parents died."

Your father puts a hand on Bakugou's shoulder.

"As long as you continue to treat my daughter well, you can stay here for eternity, Mania."

_

"I found someone on the internet who would fake all this paperwork," Bakugou says.

"Yes? This is good. Do you want me to come with you?"

He shakes his head.

"No, it's too dangerous."

You just nod silently, and turn to your wall.

Sighing, you begin to tear down the pictures on your wall.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to rip it all of. It's certainly creepy for you to see all the photos of you. You live here and I want you to feel comfortable."

"It doesn't bother me."

Surprised, you turn to him.

"Sure?"

"Yes."

You gaze at his laid-back form, missing out on his racing heart.

For some reason, he didn't like it.

For some reason, he panicked.

For some reason, he had started taking pictures of you as well...

_

"Today is your first day of school, excited?"

"No."

"Not a bit?"

"No."

"Not even a little bit?"

This time, you only get an annoyed look in response, after which you just laugh.

Bakugou then turns his gaze to the ground and fights the flush of his cheeks with a frown.

No matter how grumpy or negative he reacts, you always seem to be smiling.

He's noticed how well you seem to know him.

"You don't mean it."

And every time you were right.

No matter what he did, you always seem to like it.

Not even Kirishima accepted him as much as you did.

At school, he quickly realizes that you're incredibly popular.

Especially the boys seem to like you a lot...

Not even Kirishima accepted him as much as you did.

Since he's been in your world, he feels less and less like a hero...

When you leave the house, he follows you in the shadwos. The fear that something could happen to you is so big that he wants to lock you up...

He takes pictures of you all the time. If you take a shower, he'll sneak in and steal a few moments, only to be able to blow off steam later.

When you're sleeping, he lies down next to you without you knowing.

He takes advantage of your ignorant parents to be able to play "couple" with you.

Maybe that's his true self?

His gaze darkens as a classmate embraces you.

Bloodlust leaves him thirsty for violence.

Not even Kirishima accepted him as much as you did.

He’s sure you'll accept it that way as well.

[tsarisfanfiction]

The Worth of a Life

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Teen Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Michael, Apollo If it meant that they would live, he was willing to die. Angst galore~ Warnings for character death and survivor's guilt. Short little AU where Kronos skipped sending the minotaur on ahead and went straight for Williamsburg Bridge himself. I have a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi!

They’re doing to die.

The certainty douses Michael like a bucket of freezing water being poured down his back the moment he locks eyes with glowing gold at the end of the bridge.  Kronos’ eyes in Luke’s face are cold, the smile on his face a confident sneer, and there is no fucking way they are going to survive the full force of the titan.

The phone he stole from one of the sleeping civilians earlier burns a hole in his pocket; he has the number Malcolm’s using memorised, exactly for this fucking scenario, except now that he’s facing down the titan reality is crashing down on him and he knows that it doesn’t matter how many reinforcements they get – if they stand and fight, they’ll die.

They’re already dying; Nathan’s gone, Will is frantically fussing over a head wound Robyn took earlier, and there isn’t a single one of Michael’s siblings that isn’t injured somehow, not even little Kayla and Austin.

The decision isn’t a difficult one, the part of his brain that should put up a protest instead going numb with inevitability.

“Run!” he yells, flinging one arm back towards the direction of Manhattan.  They can’t fight head-on, but they’ve trapped the bridge to Tartarus and back because Michael always knew a cabin of archers and healers couldn’t afford to fight fair, and if they can get off the bridge in time-

Except they won’t, because Kronos is coming, in his stolen body, and the fucking titan won’t give them enough time to get clear.  Not unless someone stops him.

Praying to any god that will listen that his siblings heard his order, that they’re obeying it, Michael follows his own instruction, except instead of running away he runs forwards, towards the approaching army, towards the titan readying his sword with that fucking smirk still plastered all over Luke’s face.

Michael is going to die, but if it means his siblings will live then it’ll be worth it a thousand times over.

His quiver is empty of arrows, and Michael isn’t a melee fighter in the slightest but he still carries a knife for close-quarters emergencies.  Against Kronos-in-Luke’s-body a knife is laughably inadequate but it’s all Michael has.

It gets knocked out of his hand almost immediately, barely managing to deflect the swing of Kronos’ sword, and something inside Michael’s heart shatters when he blocks the next attack with his beloved bow and the wood-and-horn of his reliable companion for the past eight years breaks, the crack of tension releasing jarring painfully all the way up his arm and into his shoulder.

His bow is dead and he’s next but the battle isn’t over yet.  He staggers back a step, and then another, taking time he doesn’t have to glance back over his shoulder and make sure his siblings have made it clear from the bridge.

None of them are visible in the glance he can snatch and he prays that means they’ve all made it to safety as he reaches into his quiver for the last time, fingers finding the detonator he’s kept stashed in there since they set up the first traps.

The bridge explodes behind him, the air pressure blasting metal-and-concrete in all directions as though they weighed nothing.  It grabs him, too, hurtling him forwards, and Michael has just enough time to see the mocking sneer wiped from Kronos’ stolen face, hard and cold golden eyes glinting like Michael just pissed him off before he’s colliding with the titan, and that’s the death sentence he knew was coming.

He feels the sword tear through him, the talon-like grip on his shoulder before he’s thrown backwards like a rag doll, twisted metal impaling as he lands on the torn wreckage of the Williamsburg Bridge.

And then he feels nothing.

*******

Michael didn’t expect the entrance to the Underworld to look like the infirmary of Camp Half-Blood, but it must do because that’s the sight that greets him when he pries his reluctant eyes open.  His body is screaming in pain, too, which is unfair because being dead is supposed to be painless (Michael might be a little shit when he wants to be, but he knows he doesn’t deserve the Fields of Punishment.  Actually, he’d say his death was pretty fucking heroic, if Hades asked him).

Then he realises he’s not alone, that one of his hands is trapped in the solid, warm grip of a familiar, familiar figure with golden hair and blue eyes, and Michael has only physically met his dad once before but he’s dropped by his dreams so many times with his fucking haikus and eyes full of love that there’s no way Michael would mistake him for anyone else.

But Apollo doesn’t go to the Underworld, Michael knows that, and that means he must not be in the Underworld, either.

Maybe he is actually in the infirmary at camp, and if Apollo’s with him then that means he’s not fighting Typhon, or Kronos, and either the war is over or there was never a fucking war in the first place and Michael had just been experiencing a really fucked-up dream for the past few years instead.

The pain in his body makes it pretty fucking clear that it’s not the latter.

“The fuck’re you doing here?” he slurs, not because he’s unhappy that his dad is with him but because Apollo doesn’t get to sit bedside vigils for them, only drops by in dreams when they need some reassurance from their dad – or when he wants to torture them with the shit he calls poetry, which is usually the same fucking thing.

Apollo – a four thousand year old fucking god – jumps a foot in the air when he speaks, as though he somehow hadn’t noticed Michael was awake, and when his eyes focus on him Michael’s heart drops out through his back and into the fucking floor.

Because Apollo looks fucking wrecked, eyes rimmed with red despite the fact he’s a god and doesn’t have blood vessels to burst through too much crying, and cheeks covered in glittering salt crystals and the shine of tears.  “Michael,” his dad says, his voice thick and shaking, and then Michael’s being pulled into a tight, tight hug as though he’ll disappear if he lets go.  His body hurts at the pressure, but there’s warmth wrapping around him and stifling the jagged edges of pain.  “Michael,” Apollo sobs again, desperate like he’s the mortal and Michael is the god he’s praying to.

That isn’t right; none of this is fucking right.

Apollo hasn’t answered the first question but that doesn’t stop Michael asking another, because nothing adds up and he needs fucking answers.  “The fuck happened?”

He hadn’t known a god could cry so much.  Apollo’s shaking where he’s wrapped around him, and Michael’s quickly getting the feeling that he’s missed something big.

Something bad.

It occurs to him that he’s in the infirmary and hasn’t seen any sign of his siblings, and dread pools in his gut because the last time he saw them half of them were half-dead and fucking Kronos and his army were descending on them.

“The titans were defeated,” Apollo tells him, without pulling back in the slightest.  Michael is left still staring at the ceiling of the infirmary – another thing that isn’t fucking right, because when the infirmary has seriously injured patients the roof stays fucking open so his healer-siblings can better connect to their dad at the wheel of the sun.

Accelerated healing or not, Michael knows damn well he’s classified as seriously injured right now.

“The war is over,” his dad continues, voice shaking, and the war being over is supposed to be a good fucking thing but the way Apollo’s acting has Michael worried.  “You’re safe, now.”  His voice breaks on you’re, stumbles over it in a way that makes it stand out, and it easily translates to you – Michael – are safe even if that isn’t what his dad meant by it.

Michael’s heart is burrowing further and further into the floor beneath him, and the rest of his insides are following suit because there’s a horror story lurking at the edges of his mind, of a glance back that didn’t show him any siblings, of an infirmary without Will and Robyn scurrying around, armed with nectar and healing hymns and the Look of a healer that refuses to take any shit.  Of a father that Michael has never doubted for a single moment loves them all gluing himself to his side, being there in his waking hours when he never visits camp in person.

It's not a question he wants to ask but the words are crawling up his throat unpleasantly, prying his lips open to escape, and it’s not like Apollo is being particularly verbose right then.

“Where are they?” he asks.  It was supposed to be a demand, but his voice cracks on they the same way his father’s voice cracked on you’re and it comes out a plea, begging his dad to tell him it’s okay, he’s just not thinking straight with his injuries right now and that he isn’t really living a horror story right now, for all that his gut is churning with panic.

Apollo sobs again, a single, heart-wrenching sound, and when he raises his head to look Michael in the eye Michael wishes he hadn’t, because he never knew that gods could look so broken and he never wanted to know that, either.

“Elysium,” his father rasps, and the war might be over but Michael’s nightmare isn’t.

“Who?” he demands.  Nathan, he knows, and he desperately clings to the strands of hope that it’s just Nathan they’re talking about even though he knows it’s futile, fragile enough that the smallest of breezes will break it.

He’s still not prepared when Apollo closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath like he’s mortal and air is something he needs in order to live, before meeting his steadily.  They’re still watery as fuck, fresh tears spilling down his face with abandon as he says three words that make Michael scream.

“All of them.”

Screaming doesn’t help, but Michael can’t stop, either.  The sound is wordless, but there’s a mantra of no no no no no running through his head on an endless loop and he thrashes as his dad holds him close, saying more words he can’t hear through the roar of blood in his ears, because it can’t be true, they can’t be all dead.

Not Will, bright and sunny when he’s not snapping at idiots for ignoring medical common sense, not little Kayla always running after him with a bow in hand, trying to get him to shoot with her some more.  Not Joy, not Robyn, not Elias or Alice or Sally or Austin.

He can’t have failed all of them.

Michael remembers the feel of the detonator in his hand, remembers pressing the button after barely checking, remembers the bridge as it exploded behind him, and then he’s twisting in Apollo’s tight grip, retching and retching and retching some more even though there’s only bile to come up and barely any of that, either.

A warm hand runs shakily through his hair, a grip around his waist pulling him until his back is flush with an equally warm body, and fingers brush across his lips lightly, wiping away the mess.  Michael hates it, hates himself, doesn’t deserve his father’s unending love when he killed them, but attempts to pull away, to push Apollo away, fail before they even begin and then he’s screaming again, thrashing in his father’s hold and aggravating his injuries except they don’t fucking hurt.

“Michael.”  His name is spoken directly into his ear, Apollo’s mouth close enough to brush the outer shell.  The god’s voice is sharp enough to freeze him, rigid in his father’s hold as he waits for the damnation.

It doesn’t come.

“You didn’t kill them,” his father tells him, and it has the weight of a promise.  Tears Michael hadn’t realised were flooding his own face stopped abruptly, cut off by the sheer shock of impossible words.  He’s pulled backwards gently, until Apollo is folded all the way around him with a hand on the back of his head and the faint brush of lips at his temple.  “You didn’t kill any of them,” Apollo repeats, Truth pressing down on Michael’s soul.  “They were already dead,” he says more softly, and fuck.

Michael hadn’t looked for downed bodies in his glance back, just fleeing ones – and there had been none of those.

None of those because by the time he’d got Kronos semi-distracted and the chance to blow the bridge up to protect them, there was no-one left to fucking protect.

It’s Michael’s turn to sob, trying to push himself away from Apollo so he could wallow in grief and self-loathing – some fucking head counsellor he was, not able to protect even one sibling – but his dad didn’t let him, bundling him up in his arms like he was a small child and burying his face in his hair.

“It’s not your fault,” he hears him murmur.  “You did nothing wrong, Michael.”

Michael can’t believe him.  How can ten dead siblings not be his fucking fault when he was supposed to keep them safe?  Somewhere on that bridge he fucked up badly and his siblings had paid the fucking price while he was here, still alive and back at camp with his dad visiting him in person for the first time in his fucking life.  How could it not be-

“I love you, Michael.”  His dad’s unexpected words completely derail his thoughts.  Apollo hadn’t said those words to him in years, for all that he’d shown it through his dream visits over and over and over again.  The actual words hadn’t passed between them since Michael was nine, finally free from his shitty pre-camp life and learning that the guy in his dreams most nights was real and also his dad, who actually loved him unlike every other adult in his life.  “I love you,” he said again, mouth once again finding Michael’s ear.  “I’m so happy you’re still alive.”

That hurts, because Michael would rather be dead if it meant one of his siblings had survived instead.  Fuck, he’d chosen to die, if it meant that any of them would fucking live.

It wasn’t supposed to have turned out this way, all fucking backwards where the one that was supposed to die lived and the ones that were supposed to live fucking died.

“Why me?” he chokes, not even sure if he’s asking why he survived or why Apollo’s glad he did or if it’s actually a third question he can’t put his finger on.

“Because you’re my beautiful child,” Apollo says, and Michael isn’t sure which question he’s answering, and isn’t quite sure he can believe the words, either.  He certainly doesn’t feel like it.

But his dad isn’t letting go of him, instead presses another kiss to his temple and runs a hand through his hair.  The motions are soothing even though it seems impossible that Michael could be anything other than agitated at minimum right now, and part of him remembers that despite current appearances, his father is a god and can do bullshit like that if he wants.

“Rest,” Apollo coaxes.  “You have a lot of healing left to do.”

Michael wants to resist, wants to fight it because he doesn’t deserve to heal and rest, not when everyone else is dead and for some Fates-forsaken reason he’s the only one that isn’t, but he is tiring and he doesn’t know if it’s because or in spite of his father’s actions.

“I’ll still be here when you wake up again,” his father promises, intensely enough that Michael believes him even though it makes no fucking sense because Apollo never sticks around that long even in fucking dreams.  His confusion – disbelief – must be obvious because he gets another light kiss to his temple.  “You’re all I have left,” Apollo tells him, and Michael can hear the tears in his voice again, but also the determination, the words of the god of truth.  “I won’t – can’t – lose you, too.”

There’s a sound like a roll of thunder in the distance as Michael finds himself settled back down properly in the infirmary bed, his father hunched over him and looking down at him with overflowing eyes.  A hand brushes across his forehead and suddenly Michael’s eyes refuse to stay open no matter how much he fights them, his vision blurring.  “Sleep well,” he hears Apollo murmur, and there’s a feather-light kiss to his forehead this time.  “I love you so, so much.”

The familiar darkness of sleep chases him down and he barely hears the rest of his father’s words.

“Thank you for living.”

[birthedstars]

Continuation of M.I.E with 3 different kinds of women. Infertile women who wants a child so badly, School teacher leading a lesson on childbirth and a lady whose just had a homebirth a few hours prior.

M.I.E Part 3

Part1 | Part2 

Cause of The M.I.E: Leon Johnson 

3 Days After the initial Incident. 

Leon sat stiffly in his room. The cries of four babies echoed from the upstairs bedroom. His mother had given birth to triplets and his sister had suffered with one big baby. 

His parents were strangely silent toward him when they arrived home from their own ordeal. Leon chalked it up to the M.I.E, but something still felt off. 

Alexa was quiet too, but it was clear she was still dealing with the shock of suddenly and violently becoming a mother. She put up more of a strong front though 

Leon turned on the TV. Most news channels were running special interviews and investigations on the people affected by the M.I.E. There was a whole hour long interview with a pilot who had given birth while trying to land a jumbo jet full of birthing and laboring people. It was pretty exciting and scary to hear about. But Leon always felt oddly fascinated by them. Proud in a way. He couldn't explain it. 

Incident No. 5013

Location: Yaounde, Cameroon

Victim: Zuri Epwene

Age: 28

Zuri desperately wanted a baby. Yet, years of trying has led to nothing. She stared blankly at the negative test on her bathroom sink. Tears were all dried up by this point, she was just tired of it. Her husband was probably tired of it too but he never showed it out right. It was probably best they give up on trying to conceive for both of their sakes. 

Zuri sighed and got up from her toilet. She had more things to do rather than mourn a dead fantasy. She tossed the test in the trash. Just as she was about to leave she felt an odd warmth enter her belly that gave her pause. 

A few seconds passed and suddenly, Zuri's stomach lurched forward. 

"Huh!? OW!" Zuri shouted, her hands springing toward her belly. 

It felt bloated under her shirt. Swollen. It lurched again, forcing her palm outward and her shirt riding up her suddenly expanding bump. The weight made her knees bend with every lurch. Her breasts started to expand out of her shirt, the fabric around chest strained as they grew. Zuri tore off her shirt bra just so she could breathe. 

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked…pregnant. Damn near ready to pop pregnant. She was carrying low, her belly button was stretched flat, she had a linea nigra down the middle of her dark skinned stomach- it was unmistakably a pregnant bump. 

Just when she thought it was over, her stomach exploded with growth again. This 3rd time was worse. Forcing her skin to stretch even further than she thought possible. She screamed, her fingers dug into her rapidly swelling skin. Stretch marks quickly appeared on the underside of her bump. 

Zuri looked between her giant belly and the mirror. Her belly hung low, and pointed out like a bullet. All the weight settled low in her womb, it didn't look like it could get any lower. Movement rolled through the tight surface of her belly, making her heart swell. This was what she yearned to feel for so long. 

"I have to be losing my mind…," Zuri's hands traveled across her giant swell with wonder.  

Then, something hard dropped in her pelvis. A hard seizing constricted her full belly making her shriek. Pressure, so much pressure. A silky film bulged out of her contracting cervix. Then it tore. Liquid leaked from her opening, dripping into her shorts. Before she even registered it, the bulge ruptured. Water cascaded down her legs and an intense contrast gripped her belly. The head of the child forced its way through her unprepared cervix. 

Zuri, mouth wide, dropped to her knees underneath the pressure. Her stomach contracted viciously. She screamed as the huge head of her baby shot through her. Her body pushed and convulsed against her will. The big baby was tight in her canal. Zuri desperately pulled her shorts down to her knees as her labia started to burn. 

"It's too fast! Too fast!" Zuri leant back on her hands, bucking her hips and swollen belly upward. 

A scream clawed its way out of Zuri's throat. The huge head was unrelenting and quickly burst out of her nearly torn crotch in a rush. Zuri's lower half convulsed as her womb seized her hard and pushed the rest of the baby out onto the floor.  

Zuri fell onto her butt with the release. Her still taut belly moving up and down with her labored gasping. She looked down to see the huge baby on the bathroom floor, starting its first cries. 

Before she could bend forward to pick the baby up, another stomach crushing contraction wrapped around her. Another hard ball shoved itself into her cervix. 

"Another one!" Zuri's stomach contorted roughly as she shrieked. More fluids gushed out of her pussy and the 2nd baby's body shot through her ravaged canal. 

Her labia stretched out wide for the baby's head. Zuri's pelvis vibrated with the pressure. The head was so big. So,so big. Zuri drew her chin into her chest and pushed with the constant seizing. Her torpedo belly lurched forward and the head launched out of her pussy along with the shoulders. 

Zuri nearly fell back onto the bathroom floor. A mess of sweat, fluid and blood covered her bottom half.Zuri bent foward and picked up both babies with nothing but shock and awe on her face.

"Zuri! Are you ok?! The entire town is chao-," her husband screamed as he burst into the bathroom. 

The big twins were just beginning to cry in Zuri's arms. The shock melted off of her. She didn't even register her husband's worry-filled questions when he slid to her side. All Zuri could think about was, no matter how fleeting, she'd felt them grow inside her, felt them travel through her, and she could feel their warmth on her skin. It was real. She'd finally gotten what she wanted.

Incident No. 75678

Location: Dhaka, Bangladesh

Victim: Sadiq Raman

Age: 39

"Alright Class, who can tell me what the three phases of the second stage of labor and childbirth are?" Sadiq asked his class of nearly 60 students. 

The class was silent. Several students looked like they were mulling over their answer so as not to expose themselves for not reading last night's material, others looked distracted and disinterested. College students were supposed to be burning the midnight oil, not coming to lecture completely unawares. 

Sadiq sighed and took out a stack of papers. "Fine then, pop quiz. We'll see who knows how childbirth wor-" 

Suddenly, Sadiq felt a warmth enter him. It was odd. Not a feeling he's felt in a very long time. He looked around the room. All of the female students shifted uncomfortably in their seats, looks of discomfort crossing their faces. 

Sadiq gasped as his stomach lurched forward suddenly, almost breaking the buttons around the midriff of his blazer. All of the female students started shouting in alarm. Their stomachs expanded to various sizes underneath their shirts and dresses. From behind him, his assistant's stomach also suddenly grew, but busted through the buttons of her shirt. 

"What in the…" Sadiq said in shock looking between his newfound belly, his freaking out students and his assistant. Sadiq quickly unbuttoned his strained shirt. His stomach looked like he was 3 months pregnant. What is going on, is it just bloating? Was something wrong with what we ate this morning? Sadiq thought. He quickly looked at his assistant who had done the same as him, but her belly looked as if she was at the 6 month mark. Before he could even check on his students, everyone's bellies lurched forward again.

Sadiq's belly grew further to almost the size of an early third Trimester belly. He grunted as the weight suddenly hit his pelvis. Movement from within accompanied the lurching, making Sadiq's hands shoot toward his belly. A baby? No that's impossible, i shouldn't be able to-

Sadiq's thoughts were cut off by his stomach expanding once again. His belly turned into a swollen, perfectly round full term belly. His knees bent 

His teaching assistant was laid out on the floor, gargantuan belly towering over them. Students were either on the floor writhing or trying to get. 

Suddenly, Sadiq heard a scream from near the door, then a splash. A heavier set student was gripping the doorknob with one hand and their swelled stomach with the other. Shock crossed their face as fluid dripped onto the tiled floors. 

The room was silent for a second. The a wave of screams and gushes went across the room. Every girl in the class was having the waters broken one after the other. A torrent of fluid burst from Sadiq's assistant that made her buck her hips. Sadiq turned to help her, but a sharp pain stabbed into his stomach and crotch. His own waters burst out of him, soaking his pants. Intense pressure and pain shoved down into his inner opening. 

It was the head. It was forcing its way out. Sadiq leant on his podium as his now dropped belly contracted in him. The baby was forcefully stretching him open. 

Some of the men instantly tried to help their suffering peers. Pulling off skirts, pants and offering a shoulder to lean on. The young women were in hysterics. One student's baby slid roughly into her pants, but her stomach was still huge and contracting. Another, having gotten their skirt off, had two legs dangling from her crotch. 

"Professor! It hurts! It's too big!" His assistant shrieked on the ground. There was a huge wet bulge at the crotch of her jean's. Sadiq forced himself to the ground, his own burden starting to force his hips wide and burn his crotch. His stomach heaved with brutal contractions. He couldn't take his pants off yet, not until he helped his assistant at least. 

He got between her legs and yanked her strained jeans down to her knees. Her panties were struggling to hold the baby. The fabric was tearing at its thinnest parts. His Assistant, unable to resist, arched her back and pushed downward. Sadiq quickly stripped the panties off her crotch and the huge bodied baby shot through her. The assistant shrieked as the baby's head and shoulders slightly tore her pussy in parts. 

His assistant fell back onto the floor huffing for air with the insanely huge baby crying on the ground between her bloodied legs.

With her taken care of, Sadiq finally pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees, immediately feeling the full, burning crown in his crotch. His body forced the child down now that the path was unrestricted, his tan stomach lurched and seized. The head gushed out of him, followed quickly by the shoulders. The baby fell into Sadiq's pants and started wailing loudly. 

  The entire class room was still filled with both the screams of his students continuing to birth twins and triplets and newborn babies crying . Sadiq got up from the floor with his baby in hand and wide waddled toward some of his still laboring students to help. He had no idea how the hell this happened, but at the very least, everyone in the class will be able to answer questions on childbirth. 

Incident No. 908

Location: Merida, Yucatan

Victim: Gabriela Ortiz

Age: 19

Gabriela breathed tiredly. It had only been 2 hours since she'd given birth. Since she pushed a big, 9 and ½ pound baby boy into the world. She still felt the phantom pain of contractions through her crotch and stomach. She massaged her still distended belly. It felt so weirdly empty, yet she felt good about it.

The ordeal of carrying such a big boy on her small body exhausted her near the end. Even with the support of her boyfriend, Emile, and close family. Only her midwife, her grandma, and Emile were there for the birth though. H

Emile was on the bed, settled close next to her. His body was comforting and solid. His eyes didn't move from her or their son in her arms. 

"You made such a beautiful boy, Ela," Emile whispered in her ear. 

"He's a cutie, huh?" Ela said. 

Suddenly, she felt a warm sensation feel like it slipped into her worn cervix. Ela flinched a bit and massaged her postpartum swollen stomach. Then her stomach lurched. Hard. 

"Ohh fuck!" She shouted, her hand gripping her stomach. 

"Ela? What's wrong?" Emile took the baby from her grasp. 

"My stomach hurts. I don't know wha-" 

Her stomach jumped out even harder, expanding to the size she was 7 months into pregnancy. Her linea and belly button quickly regained their form on her swollen belly. 

"What the hell," Emile whispered. He took their son and placed him in his crib. 

Gabriela's stomach roughly jumped out again, stretching her even larger than when she was full term. 

"W-whats happening to me?!" Gabriela babbled, gingerly holding her swollen tight stomach. Suddenly, she felt movement, a kick. Its not possible. There was no way a twin just appeared in her stomach. 

"Get grandma, get her up n-" 

Ela then felt something drop. Then a horribly sharp pain went through her stomach. A burst of fluids shot out of her labor worn canal.

Shock crossed her face as she felt the pains of labor rip through once again. She cried out her boyfriend's name. The sides of her stomach drove inward on the mass inside her.

A scream erupted from her already worn throat as the huge mass bore down through her canal. Her hand clutched the hard surface of her fecund mound, it was so much tighter drawn than before. Her body forced her baby through her cervix. It already being stretched and worn made it find its way to her vaginal opening quite fast.

The huge head barreled through her speedily. The head quickly stretched her beyond her limit, her mouth was agape with searing pain that exceeded what she felt with her son. Her womb contracted hard, forcing the child's head out of her with a spurt of hot fluid.

"Ela, heads out! You're doing great!" Emile encouraged. 

"I'm not doing anything!" She screamed back. 

 It felt like her body was working against her, without her say. It was only concerned with forcing the foreign child out. But, her physical limits couldn't expel something so big. The baby's shoulders rammed against her hips. Over and over until Ela was bucking her hips in pain. Her pelvis creaked like it was threatening to give and her body just contracted harder on her. Ela crumpled the sheets of her bed in her hands and pushed desperately. 

"My god, what is happening," Gabriela's grandmother burst through the door. "What's all the scream-" 

"THE SHOULDERS ARE STUCK!" Gabriela's shrill cry echoed through the home. "I CAN'T PUSH IT OUT!"

"Get her on her hands and knees, boy!" Her grandmother, instantly in midwife mode, ordered Emile. 

Emile forced his strong hands around Gabriela's convulsing body and started to turn her off her back. She could barely help him with the constant pain she was in. 

Once she was on her knees, her grandmother forced one of her legs up. Ela felt the baby move a bit as soon as she did. 

"FUUUUUCK!" Gabriela's back arched as she finally bore down and her constantly constricting stomach. 

The shoulders unhitched itself from her pelvis in the new position. The shoulders shot out of her and warm fluid burst from Ela's vacant pussy. Gabriela fell flat on the bed when the pressure finally subsided. 

Gabriela could feel the exhaustion overtake the adrenaline and her eyes started to grow heavy. In her boyfriend's hands was a baby girl bigger than her first born. She decided right there it would be a couple years before she even had sex again.

[gremlintheslut]

More water baby?

Rhea Ripley x reader (afab)

Warnings: wetting, crying, accidental golden shower, pee denial, mention of relationship.

Master list

I have never been shy about asking to go to the bathroom but it's very different when it comes to people I like. I was sitting on rheas lap while we were a movie. She kept offering me water and I always expected. I must have been on my 8th glass when the need to pee was getting hard to ignore. "More water baby?" Rhea asks. All I can do is nod my head too embarrassed to say anything. I have a tiny bladder and knew all of the water I had drunk was catching up with me.

I still drank the water. I could have just taken small sips now and then or even better put the glass down and said I wasn't thirsty. But, I drank the entire glass and tried my best to not squirm on her lap. I could tell she knew something was wrong but she didn't ask.

After five minutes my need was unbearable. I felt myself leak into my underwear and I knew I would leak onto my pants soon if I didn't say anything. "More water?" Rhea said handing me a glass full of water. Just the thought of drinking made everything worse. I shook my head. I could feel my face heating up as I plucked up the courage to say something. "Do you have to pee?" Rhea asks all I can do is nod my head. "Can you wait till this episode is over?" She asks. I couldn't there was no way I was keeping it in for longer than 2 minutes let alone the 15 minutes the episode had left but i nodded.

Why the fuck would I ever do that? Am I gonna be able to stand up without wetting? I should have asked to go now. Then the worst thing happened. Rhea wrapped her arms around my waist. Putting pressure on my ready-to-explode bladder. I whimper and squirm trying to get her hands off of my bladder. She figured out why I was moving around like that when I put my hand between my legs. "Do really have to go that bad?" She asks. I nod as I leak onto my pants creating a golf ball size wet patch on my front. Of course, she saw it. "You should have told me," she says sympathetically. "Can you stand up?" She asks I shake my head. No, I can't move without leaking. "Do me too help you hold it?" she asks I nod my head. If she's not disgusted with me right now then she can help as much as she can.

Her hands slip between my legs and press hard against my crotch. I feel a wave of desperation come over me. I whimper and close my legs tightly. Rhea gets the message and holds me ten times tighter. I leaked a tiny bit. It was then I realised that when I wet myself I would get it all over her and the couch.

"Don't wanna get it on you" I mumble half hoping she didn't hear. "I'm gonna let you wet yourself," she says back calmly. I was gonna wet. Sooner ir later the floodgates would open and I would get piss all over my girlfriend. I feel another big wave of desperation wash over me.

Rhea holds me tight but I still leak a lot. I'm pretty sure that it's on her lap now. I pissed on her. It is 100× harder now that I've felt that relief and that I'm sitting in warm liquid. Another wave washes over me but this time I don't gain control again.

I can't help tears of shame fall down my cheeks. I start to sniffle as I look down and see Rhea's lap drenched. I'm still going in ruining her couch as well. This can't be happening. After 2 full minutes of me wetting and crying I finally stop. I feel rhea hug me from behind. She shushes me and wipes the tears off of my cheeks. "I'm so sorry" I manage to get out between sobs. "It's okay, let's go get cleaned up"

Sorry if it's short but I have to write days 4-8 fics as well and maybe day 9 and 10 so I can be ahead. Thank for reading ❤❤❤

[earlgreydream]

cozy.

| draco x reader x theo | smut | fluff |

anon requested. Draco x reader x Theo smut

The fire in the hearth crackled nearby, offering warmth in the common room made of marble and glass. You knelt on a satin pillow, curled up between the legs of your lover. Your head rested against the inside of Draco’s thigh, your back against the chair he was perched in. You felt safe at his feet, leaning into the touch of his hand in your hair.

Your friends were all piled on the couches and on the floor around the coffee table, all fighting for a seat near the warm fire. You were wrapped in one of Theo’s knitted quidditch sweaters, his body above yours, draped over the arm of Draco’s chair.

You let your mind wander, tuning out of the conversation about where everyone was spending Christmas. You were almost asleep, lulled into drowsiness by Draco’s fingers carding through your hair.

“Y/N, love. Pansy asked you a question,” Draco hummed, his fingers brushing over your cheek.

“Hm?” You hummed, struggling to open your eyes.

“I asked if you were still awake,” she teased, and you yawned, hoping you could continue leaning on Draco without being disturbed.

“Let’s go to bed, sweetheart,” Theo’s voice broke through your sleepy haze, and you held your arms out, too tired to really open your eyes or stand up. Draco laughed gently, and Theo bent down to pick you up.

“Draco?” You mumbled, your arms draping over Theo’s back.

“I’m going to stay down here a bit longer. I’ll be up later,” Draco kissed the back of your hand before letting Theo carry you to the dorms.

“I want to go to your bed.”

“My bed?” he teased, kissing your cheeks. You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder.

He carried you to Draco’s prefect dorm, the large, private room where the three of you often slept. 

Theo gently set you down on the edge of the bed, stepping into the ensuite and returning with a washcloth. You scrunched your face as he cleaned your makeup off gently, holding your jaw in his hand. You relaxed, letting him wash your makeup off, appreciating that he was doing it for you. 

Theo loved to dote on you. He was gentle and sweet, and enjoyed caring for you and showering you with attention. It extended to Draco, too, who basked in the brunette’s affections. 

You slipped off your jeans and crawled under the covers as soon as Theo was finished with your face. He smiled at you when he returned, amused by how cuddly you got when you were tired.

“I want Draco,” you murmured, reaching out to his side of the empty bed.

“What am I to you, then?”

“I already have you here with me,” you pulled him into a kiss, feeling him smile against your lips. 

Theo changed into joggers before sliding in bed with you. You moved to lay on top of him, wrapping your body around his. His hands moved to rest on your backside, gently brushing his thumbs over your skin. 

Theo felt your breathing deepen as you fell asleep, curling up tighter into him. He kissed your head, listening to your soft sighs as you exhaled. 

You were warm, like a little heater curled up on his chest. You snuggled deeper into the sweater as you slept, seeming to bury into the coziness. He pulled the duvet up higher over your back, and you relaxed, your fingers resting on his chest.

Theo looked up when the door opened later, Draco slipping inside. He smiled at the two of you, his two favorite people. Draco walked over, setting his hand on Theo’s shoulder and kissing him firmly.

“I love you,” Theo whispered, and Draco nodded, saying it back. 

He brushed hair from your face, leaning down and kissing your temple. He sat beside the two of you for a while, murmuring softly with Theo about plans for the weekend before finally getting ready for bed. 

They were careful not to disturb you, and Draco slid under the duvet, settling against Theo’s side. Theo removed an arm from you to wrap around Draco, playing with his silvery hair until they fell asleep.

You woke up between the boys, all three of you half-asleep. You stirred and realized both of your boyfriends were hard.

“Hey, hey,” Theo murmured, grabbing your hip as you ground back against him. 

You rolled over and wrapped your arm around his neck, dragging the boy into a heavy kiss. Your fingers trailed over his defined abs, below his waistband. He moaned into your mouth, weakly bucking his hips into your hand as you stroked him. He was heavy in your fingers, his skin soft like velvet. The feeling was making arousal soak through your panties, smearing on the inside of your thighs.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Theo moaned before pushing his tongue into your mouth, deepening your kiss. 

“Watching you two go at it is making me horny,” Draco murmured against your neck. He pushed his sweats down and began to grind against your ass, making you gasp. He hooked his fingers in the lace that barely covered you, pulling it aside. 

“Keep touching Theo, baby,” Draco encouraged, pulling your leg over his to give him better access before he carefully pushed the tip inside of you. You stuttered for a moment before sliding your thumb over Theo’s tip, making him whine. Draco decided to tease you, a hint of sadism breaking through your early-morning softness. His thrusts were shallow at first, just barely entering you, edging your entrance.

“Draco, please fuck me,” you cried, trying to squirm back to take more of him in.

“I am, baby,” he feigned innocence, amusement sparkling in his starry eyes.

“N-no, you’re teasing me. Please, I want all of you!”

Draco gave you what you wanted all at once, his entire body connecting with yours. You arched your back off of Draco’s chest, ecstasy consuming you as the ridges of his cock dragged against your walls. Draco’s hips thrusted forward, burying himself as deep as possible inside of you. Your head dropped back on his shoulder, your vision blurring as his fingers rubbed circles on your clit. 

“Come for me, Theo,” you begged sweetly, feeling him twitch in your hand. 

His hand went to the back of your head, dragging you into another kiss as he came. His hips stuttered as he released in your hand, making a mess of his joggers.

“You’re taking Draco’s cock so well, sweetheart. You look so pretty getting fucked like this in my sweater,” Theo praised you, laying his hand on the space between your hips.

“He’s so big, I can feel him in your belly, stretching you out. I bet you’re so tight, squeezing the life out of him,” Theo’s words made Draco fuck you harder, chasing the relief he craved.

Theo kissed you, his hands slipping under your sweater to gently fondle your tits. He lazily rocked into your hand, still-half hard from the erotic sight of you being railed by Draco.

“I’m so close, fucking hell,” Draco swore, pulling your hips back to meet his as he wrapped his body around yours. The pressure building up inside of him exploded, and soon he was filling your pussy with hot white ribbons, buried all the way inside of you. You cried out against Theo’s lips at the sensation, overwhelmed from feeling so full.

Draco’s torture on your clit didn’t cease, and soon you were tumbling over the edge, throbbing tightly around Draco as you came with a shudder. Your orgasm washed through you in waves, drawing out your euphoria until you were shaking.

You winced as Draco pulled out of you, moving your panties back in place, keeping your releases inside of you. Some of it seeped through the lace, making you feel even more lewd. Draco swore at the sight, gathering it on his fingers before tasting you, making your cheeks burn. You hid your face in Theo, who lovingly stroked your hair.

Peacefulness settled back over the room, and your mind and body softened, leftover endorphins simmering and making you relaxed.

Both boys admired you, whispering soft praises about how lovely you were and how amazing you treated them. They adored you, showering you with affection and making sure you knew how terribly loved you were.

The boys let you rest for a few moments, catching your breath and letting the high wear off. You felt a bit dazed as you opened your eyes, gazing up at the two gorgeous boys on either side of you.

“We gotta shower, sweetheart. We’re all filthy. Your hand is messy and your pussy is spilling all over the place,” Theo kindly teased, cupping you between your legs and making you shudder and lean back into Draco.

“Sensitive, love?” Draco asked, leading you toward the shower.

“A little,” you confessed, your steps unsteady from the force of Draco fucking you. Theo helped you out if your clothes and tossed them aside, opening the glass door.

Steam rose from the shower and you welcomed the hot water as you moved under the stream. It washed away the filth from your body, and you leaned back into Theo’s chest so he could properly cleanse you.

He squeezed vanilla soap into his hands before rubbing and massaging it into your body, the sweet scent wafting around you. You let him turn you so he could wash your back, and Draco kissed your shoulder. You faded from reality as they washed themselves, your mind wandering to your warm bed that you desperately wished to get back to.

It took some convincing to get you to let them wash your hair. You reminded them to be careful of your tangles, and they promised to be gentle.

“Baby, did I hurt you?” Draco’s worried voice broke you out of your dreamy thoughts.

You looked down and saw the bruise on your hip, matching up with his hand. Theo tensed, his fingertips brushing softly over your marked skin. He hated to see you with any sign of injury, wanting to protect you.

“No, not at all,” you promised Draco, giving him a reassuring kiss. The boys exchanged a silent look, and Draco knew he was in for it later, bound to receive a lecture from Theo about being careful with you.

Draco guided your head under the water, rising the soap from your hair before shutting it off. You squeezed the water out of your hair, hesitating to leave the warm shower.

You shivered, goosebumps breaking out over your skin as you stepped into the cold air. Theo noticed, wrapping you in a towel. You giggled as he playfully rubbed you through it, tickling your sides and dragging you against his chest.

“It’s so cold! I want to go back to bed,” you complained, trying to make your way back to the magically cleaned sheets.

“Let’s get breakfast first, then go to Hogsmeade with everyone,” Draco suggested, and you sighed, unable to deny the attractiveness of the idea.

You slipped into fur-lined leggings and a warm sweater, pulling wool socks onto your feet to go inside of your boots.

Two cardamom buns and a cup of coffee later, you were braving the icy temperatures in order to go shopping and get some butterbeer.

You walked between them, holding each of their hands as you popped in and out of shops, chattering excitedly with your friends.

Giggles erupted from you as both boys kissed your cheeks, making you squeal with delight as you entered a pub for some butterbeer. You slid into a booth, closed in between their bodies, deciding there was nowhere else you’d rather be than with them.

.

part 2: cozy (2).

[warmblanketwhump]

flight plan

disclaimer: this takes place in pre-you-know-what times - if you’re actually sick, do not do what B does here. alright, on to the suffering :)

Back when B booked their flight, the 4 am boarding time and 2 layovers seemed like a great exchange for saving a few hundred dollars while flying across the country. But now, with a head that feels like it was stuffed with cotton, a gate change that forced their leadened body to trek across the entire airport, and an additional 3-hour delay before their final 4-hour flight, they were beginning to question their penny-pinching ways.

In a nearby terminal, a fussy infant screamed, and it took everything for B not to scream back at them: I hate it here too! Their nerves were frayed, their whole body ached to the bone, and their head felt like it was in a vise grip.

It hadn’t felt this bad this morning - heck, they wouldn’t have left if they’d felt this bad - but the changing cabin pressure and constant temperature shifts from hot, stuffy terminals to icy planes were wreaking havoc on their poor, rapidly sickening body. They’d been up for 18 hours. And now, they had no choice but to ride it out and power through the last leg. They hug the paper cup of tea they’d grabbed at a nearby cafe close to their chest, trying to hold back their frustrated tears.

They just wanted to be home.

B shifts on the hard terminal seat as they wrap up a third agonizing hour of waiting, willing the passengers ahead of them to board more quickly so they could just get home to A, who they’d been missing all week. But the miserable minutes ticked by, and B kept having to blow their tender nose with their precious (and dangerously dwindling) travel pack of tissues. As they massage their aching sinuses, B feels a tap on their shoulder. Turning, they recognize a fellow passenger from their previous flight extending another full pack their way.

“Here. You need these more than I do.” They extend the gift, and B gratefully accepts. The stranger nods, and heads back to their luggage to wait out the boarding process.

After what feels like an hour, B’s group is finally able to board the flight. From their boarding pass, they knew they’d be stuck in the middle seat, but their heart lifts a bit when they see their Kleenex-wielding savior in the aisle seat next to theirs, who waves and gives them a small smile as they let them through. On the window seat side, a sour-looking individual scans them up and down, raising an eyebrow when B coughs roughly in their elbow.

“Sorry…” B sniffles. The sour-faced person rolls their eyes and turns their attention to the window, and B shrinks in their seat, embarrassed.

“Just want to be home, right?” Their aisle friend smiles sympathetically, and B nods weakly. “I know the feeling. Name’s C.”

B introduces themselves, and the two make amicable small talk during the pre-flight checklist, finding out that they both called their destination city home. As the plane takes flight, B winces - the pressure change makes their head ache, and their sinuses feel like they’re going to explode, along with their ears. The dry air of the plane irritates their chapped nose, and they close their eyes and grip the armrest till their knuckles bleach, trying to breathe through the pain and praying it doesn't get worse.

It gets worse. On top of their pounding head and runny nose, B discovers like all the other planes, this one's an icebox. Once they reach cruising altitude, B apologetically shuffles by C to head to the bathroom, hoping that by some chance it’s warmer in there. In the dim light, B’s stares at their haggard reflection – their feverish eyes are glazed and watery, their raw nose is bright red, and their peaked face is wan and drawn, coated with a sheen of sweat. Hopefully A would still recognize them, they thought humorlessly.

The bathroom is just as frigid, and B’s stuck with a stream of lukewarm water that barely heats their cold hands. Back in their seat, the throbbing headache continues to build behind their eyes, and their throat desperately cries out for something to drink.

As if they could hear their thoughts, C leans over and pulls a small bottle of water from their personal bag. “The flight attendants came by with drinks while you were up - figured you could at least use some water.” B gratefully accepts and murmurs their thanks, and the cool water feels like heaven as they gulp it down.

After, B pulls the paper-thin flight blanket up to their chin - at this point, they didn’t care what the travel magazines said about how dirty they were. But it’s no use. The cold plane air sinks into their aching bones, and their body shivers to make up the difference. They close their eyes and wriggle around in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position that still allows them to curl up and get warm while exhaling as few germs as possible – and if there's any mercy at all, to fall unconscious for the next 3 and a half hours.

“Will you stop?” The window passenger glares at them. “It’s bad enough you brought your germs on here. But now you can’t even sit still?” Tears pricked at B's eyes - being sick always made them more sensitive - but before they can squeak out an apology, C leaps to their aid.

"Lay off," C snaps. "Can't you see they don't feel good?" The other passenger huffs indignantly, and presses closer to the wall of the plane. C's eyes don't leave them, and they stretch their hand out tentatively toward B. "May I?"

B nods, letting their eyes close, and C gently lays a cool hand across their forehead, clicking their tongue at the heat. "Well, I've definitely flown with healthier seatmates than you." B tries to laugh, but a cough seizes their lungs, and they double over to try and contain it as best they can as C gently rubs between their shoulder blades. When they finally catch their breath, they rest their head on their knees, exhausted from the exertion. From their prone position, B checks their watch. 3 hours and 26 minutes to go.

I'm going to die.

Slowly, B sits up and stiffly straightens their blanket with as little movement as possible. A draft floods their section of the plane, and B longingly eyes C’s unopened blanket tucked in the seat pocket, trying to quiet the incessant chatter of their teeth.

“You cold?” C frowns.

“Freezing,” they whimper through clenched teeth. “And I hurt all over and I just want to go home and I miss A and I’m so tired.” They didn’t mean to break down, but two twin tears slip from their eyes as they try to stop their lip from quivering.

C’s quiet for a moment, then stands to rustle around in the overhead compartment, and returns with a small bundle.

“Lean back,” C gently commands, and A obeys and closes their eyes. They’re immediately draped in warmth, and open their eyes to see a thick, fleece-lined jacket being tucked over them, along with a soft travel blanket over their legs. They try to protest, but C shushes them.

“Being sick is already miserable without being stuck in a tin can in the sky. Besides, these flight blankets suck." C gives B's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and B nearly melts at the touch.

“And look, if you don’t want to, it’s fine - you don’t know me - but you can use my shoulder if you want to try and catch some sleep.”

In any other moment B would be mortified, but they're so spent that they just nod weakly and surrender to the offer of comfort. C pulls their unused blanket out and folds it into a sort of pillow, clicking the armrest down between them, and B collapses onto them in a boneless heap. Sleep tugs at the edge of their vision, but there's one lingering question on their mind.

"C? Why....why are you helping me? You've been nothing but kind and you don't even know me."

C's quiet for a moment. "Last year, I tried to do the same thing you're doing – power through an 8-hour flight home with a blossoming case of pneumonia. Cough, chills, headache, the works. About 2 hours in, I was about ready to jump out of the plane." They chuckle lightly, but B hears the wistful note in their voice. "It was absolutely miserable, and all I wanted was someone to hold my hand and tell me it’d be okay.”

C turns to look at B. "But nobody did. Not a single soul. So I vowed that if ever I found myself in a position someday to help somebody home, I’d do it.”

The words are so achingly comforting and desperately sad, so soft and generous and B feels like they should say something, affirm that yes, helping a random sick passenger was damn close to sainthood. But instead, sleep wins over, and they nestle closer to C as they tumble into a soft, dreamless sleep.

it feels like they’re asleep for minutes, but when C nudges them gently, they realize that they’re descending. They’re home.

The wheels skid on the runway, and the journey off the plane is a blur of sound and color and too-bright lights. B is only vaguely aware of C’s arm around their waist, guiding them through the crowd and to the baggage claim area. They must have told C which suitcase is theirs, because they blink twice and it magically appears at their feet.

“C’mon now, B. Almost there.” C gently guides them forward, and B wills themselves to power through the final few minutes.

“Do you see A anywhere?” C asks, squinting through the crowd of people. B can barely focus their eyes, and they’re losing hope, when all of a sudden - they see them. A. Holding a small paper sign with B’s name and a stuffed animal with a small red heart in their arms, waving wildly. They’re beaming, but the smile falls from their face as they see what condition B’s in.

“B - what happened? Are you okay?” B can barely whisper A’s name, and A pulls them into a hug, gently whispering reassurances, that they’re home and safe.

“Bit of a rough flight, but B hung in there,” C smiles, passing B’s suitcase to A. “They’re not feeling too hot, but I think they’ll make it.”

Suddenly, B releases A and stumbles back to C, throwing their arms around them. C’s thrown off balance by the strength of the hug, but manage to compose themselves and pat them gently on the back.

“Thank you,” B whispers. “So much.”

C blushes. “It was nothing. Just don’t forget to pay it forward.”

B squeezes tighter. “You deserved help. You still do.” C says nothing, just swallows tightly, and B feels C’s arms tighten ever so briefly around their waist.

A rush of dizziness floods B, and C gently guides them back to A’s waiting arms, before handing A a scrap of paper. “Listen, it’s none of my business - but can you give me a call in a couple days, just so I know they’re feeling better?”

A takes the scrap and smiles. “Absolutely. It’s the least I can do to thank you for keeping old B from falling apart in public.” B grunts indignantly, almost asleep again, and A strokes their hair and smiles.

They make it back to the car, and A manages to maneuver a limp B into the passenger seat, tucking them in and cranking the heat on their side. B blinks their eyes open and smiles guilelessly. “Go home now?”

A smiles and presses a soft kiss to their forehead. “Yes, love. We’re going home now.”

[sunnygrey99]

Just My Luck

~This story may contain triggering subjects related to eating disorders and isolation.~

A/N: Hey guys, I'm not sure if I should make this one into a full story or not. its kind of just a drabble that isn't a direct harry x reader. I guess if it gets enough interest or if anyone requests it I'll make another part or two. anyway, I hope you guys like it.

You have worked at Big Belly Burger for some time now to pay off your student debt. You had wanted so badly to work for star labs and were looking forward to starting your internship there before it had blown up. Of course, that's just the type of luck you had. It seemed like each day that passed your luck had gotten worse and worse. This morning when you woke up to get ready there was no running water in your crappy apartment. Walking through the doors to open at work proved that that same bad luck would carry through the day. Nothing was prepped for the day and even worse Mark from the night shift just left a note on the register saying he quit. Great. Another double shift was surely in your future. You sighed and started about your day.

Nothing too bad happened for the majority of your shift surprisingly. It was only when you went to leave for the night that things turned for the worse. A man came stomping in and pointing a gun in your face and started to scream at you. “I want all the money from the register and your safe. Put it in this bag. NOW!” He shoves a ragged blue Nike backpack in your hands. You took a shaky breath and did as he said and pressed the silent alarm in the register before putting the money in the bag. Luckily you were stuck with the opening to closing shift so no one else was in danger.

You were in the process of handing the bag to the man when a blur of yellow and red whooshed past you and knocked the gun out of the man’s hand. “I’d just give up now if I were you” The flash seemed to taunt the man and shockingly he looked as if he was giving up. Slowly raising his hands behind his head. In a matter of seconds, the man had pulled another gun from his back and had fired it at you to distract the flash. The bullet had lodged in the necklace you wore. It took the breath straight out of you, The locket was destroyed but you thankfully weren’t hurt. Maybe your luck would be turning around. The flash only stared at you apparently just as shocked as you were. You shook it off quickly though. “Aren’t you going to go get him? I’m fine I promise.” He took a second before nodding and running off after the man.

Four weeks later you had another unlucky day. This time someone t-boned you at a busy intersection. The flash had shown up and pulled you out just in time. Your car exploded, yet everyone involved was fine. Not a scratch on you either. Several incidents like this happened for the next several months before you felt you have completely lost your mind. The final straw was the grease fire that happened while you were at work. And just like every other time the flash was there. Your face flushed red with anger as you approached him seconds after he put the fire out. “What the FUCK is going on? Why is it every time a catastrophe happens in my life YOU are there? Are you trying to kill me or ruin me? Or maybe just drive me FUCKING CRAZY?” He stared back at you before seemingly getting a call from some likely secret team he had. It was only a couple of seconds before he looked back to you and grabbed you whisking you off to god knows where.

Dizziness took over making your head feel like a shaken soda can. You heard the sound of a pressurized door closing and your head snapped up as you tried to move toward the opening. It took a moment for you to catch your breath. “What...What the hell is happening? I thought you were supposed to HELP people!” You shouted at the blurry figure outside the glass.

“I’m sorry, we really are trying to help. We’ve been tracking a signal that's been messing with our radars. I’ll explain more later but you should just sit back and calm down for right now until we figure this out okay?” You stared him down with a newfound hatred.

“Is that what you told those Meta-Humans that showed up dead on the news? Did you promise to help them too? Did you lead them to their DEATHS?” You started screaming again and banging on the glass screaming and crying to be let out. The flash just quietly apologized as he closed a second door on you.

~

Several weeks had passed. They always offered you food but every time you turned it down. If they were going to keep you locked in here forever you might as well make it a quick end for yourself. Dr. Snow as sweet as she is to you has been running countless tests on you during your stay in the small cell. Cisco stopped trying to talk to you after you made it clear how disgusted you were with how they treated people like them. You turned over facing the wall as you laid in a small cot on the cell floor. Tears still finding a way to escape the entire time you’d been locked up. It made you so tired.  Maybe today would be the day you’d just slip away. Then that familiar sound of the door opening came. Footsteps barely audible as your heavy eyes started to close for what you hoped would be the last time in this cell. You felt the faint touch of someone checking your pulse and something being put around your neck before you slipped into unconsciousness.

Your eyelids fluttered open to a grey room surrounded by beeping machines and the sound of tapping keys. As your eyes adjusted to the light in the room you saw a man that you hadn’t seen in your time locked up. Were you even locked up anymore? Was that all a bad dream? The beeping seemed to quicken as you started to become more aware. The tapping stops and there's now a hand on your arm.

A raspy hushed voice comes from the man gently holding your arm. “You need to relax, you are still weak from malnourishment. Come on, slow deep breaths.” He leads you through calming your breathing.

“Who… wait.” Your eyes adjusted more and you recognized this man. This was the same man that offered you an internship...but he is different somehow. “Wait aren’t you a missing person...and a murderer?” You started to feel more unsettled by the second again.

“No. I mean yes…, but that wasn’t me. Its…complicated. I’m from another universe and this earth’s Dr. Wells is dead.” You scuffed at him as the words came out of his mouth.

“Why am I here?” You looked at the man with more authority than you had the right for someone laying in a hospital bed.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Well the flash is an idiot and long story short they called me due to your declining health...Should have reached out way sooner but regardless you are alive and we have your abilities in check.” He pointed to a necklace on your chest. It looked like a replica of the one that had been destroyed the night of that robbery. You stared in awe at it before looking back at him still confused. “You have the unique ability to alter natural probability which is astonishing. We had a version of you on my earth and he didn’t turn out to be the greatest guy. Luckily things are looking better in your case.”

It took you a few moments to take all that in before speaking back up. “How are you so sure I won’t become a bad guy?”

He hummed in response for a moment. “Because every time Dr. Snow came in to test you and check on you you complimented her and every time Mr. Ramon came to talk to you you asked if they treated every meta how they treated you. Which to me sounds like someone who cares about other people more than themselves.” Dr. Wells leaned back reading some charts quietly to allow the information to sink in.

You slowly start to sit up and look at him knowing you likely won't get all the answers today. "What are my abilities exactly? Will I be able to ever control it?" Your hand absentmindedly stroked the locket around your neck.

It takes a moment for him to answer. "Well, we don't really know all of that. It's very complicated. You seem to have a sort of field around you that taps directly into the energy of the multiverse. There is a high probability that you will have even more abilities due to that that you might not even see for a few years. The good news is we can help you develop it. That is if you are willing to trust and work with the same people that had locked you up."

It's a lot to ask of you after what they did. Granted they did try to feed you and they definitely didn't torture you. It was a very uncomfortable and traumatic experience though. You took your time in thinking it over and let out a deep sigh when you realized you didn't really have a choice. They were likely the only ones that could help you. "Okay, I'll do it... after I rest some more if that's okay." You leaned back feeling still like a truck had run you over.

He nodded and started walking to the door to turn the lights off and head out. He took a final glance back at you with a faint look of familiarity and sadness before saying good night and walking out of the room. You didn't really know what to make of it all and you still had so many questions. All things that you would have to ask at a later date since your eyes could hardly stay open anymore. So you made yourself comfortable and allowed sleep to embrace you once again.

Those who asked to be tagged. <3

If you would like to be tagged in my works please feel free to message me and let me know who/what fandoms you'd like to be tagged in. I plan to write for at least Shameless(US), Marvel(MCU and Comics), DC(All), and Teen Wolf

@cursedfaechild

@rosaren2498

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine.

Erik’s girl confesses that’s she’s in to both men and women and Erik helps her hit on women.

Warnings: Smut, Threesome, GxG, Voyeurism, Bisexual

It’s not like she could get over it. It’s engraved in her so deeply. He knows now and how long does it have to take before the moment finally arises? It’s killing her to suppress her urges. Dashawn was a phone call away. There are dating apps to meet new girl friends and secretly meet up. Not even the compilation videos of women eating each other’s pussies, tribbing, and dildo-fucking calmed the ache in her clit.

Of course, Erik is there to give his baby girl what she needs but a woman would complete the puzzle. While Erik fucked her with his burgeoning erection, drilling deep, a sexy woman can lick and suck all over her nipples. Maybe, this woman and Erik can eat her pussy at the same time. The possibilities are endless. But, she’s never been with a woman. Would she eat her pussy good? Good enough to make her cum hard?

Damn, Y/N hoped so.

“You overthink shit too much, baby,” Erik said to Y/N with his hands massaging her naked hip.

“I’ve never done it before. I’m nervous.”

“Had my ass fooled when you were flirting with Dashawn.”

“That’s flirting,” Y/N sat up in bed, “Not eating pussy.”

“Don’t you women have like an unspoken bond? Like, you know what turns you on and shit? Whatever makes you cum I’m sure makes her cum too. Can’t be as hard as you’re making it out to be.”

“You do have a fair point. Maybe it’s just my nerves. So, when should we do this?”

Erik chortled, “Ma, we have to find a chick who will be down first.”

“I can’t help that I want it so bad, daddy.”

Y/N rolled over with her smooth back facing Erik. All he could see was her wild ringlets. Erik reached out to slip his fingers between the moisturized spirals.

“It’s okay, baby. We’ll find a lucky girl soon—

“I have one in mind.” Y/N blurted out.

Erik sat up fully, the thin sheet pooling around his naked lower half. His fingertips danced across Y/N’s back when a dimpled smile spread across his full, sinful lips.

“I think I know who you’re referring to. Dashawn, isn’t it?”

“No.”

Erik gaped at her with a deep crease in his brow.

“I thought you were feeling Dashawn, baby?”

“I am but that’s not who I want for my first time. I want Raven.”

“Oohhhh…so it’s like that? Seeing her naked at the studio got your shit wet, huh baby?”

The way Erik said that has Y/N clenching her thighs.

“Sssssss…mmm…it’s funny that you mention Raven. She’s been asking about you a lot at the studio.”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder and her eyes swept up and down Erik’s inviting body.

“She has? What did she say?”

Erik gave a half shrug, “Nothing obvious just how you’ve been doin’. Now, I’m starting to think she wanna know because she can’t get you off her mind.”

“I didn’t do anything to make her feel that way,” Y/N said with a soft-spoken voice.

“You clearly don’t know how good you fuckin’ look no matter how many times I tell you. You’re fine ass need to stop with allat shit.”

“Do you think she’ll be down?”

Erik’s eyes bore into Y/N’s, “I know Raven and with that being said she ain’t turning down no pussy. She used to tell me some wild shit that would have you turned on so fuckin’ hard, baby.”

“I’m already horny for her,” Y/N said with a whimper.

“Horny is an understatement.” He said.

Y/N took it upon herself to lift up and straddle Erik’s lap. Erik is so hard that his dick bounces up and hit his abs. Y/N’s slick, tight walls know how to suck up and work on that staff. Even with the soreness from Erik jackhammering her pussy, giving her pleasured pain, she still wanted him to bust her wide open.

“It’s what I’m feeling right now, times ten?” Y/N wrapped her arms around Erik’s shoulders and started grinding her pussy along his hard dick.

“Times 100,” Erik pushed down on the base of his dick to line himself up with Y/N’s begging pussy, smacking it with the tip of his dick.

“You hopped up on my lap quick for this dick again…”

“I can’t help that I’m obsessed.”

Y/N planted her hands on his muscular thighs and with how strong and sturdy they felt he can drive that fat, long dick hard and deep, balls deep, into her wet warmth. She spread her legs so he could watch the way he made that wide tip rub between her pussy lips. Even after two orgasms that night, Erik wasn’t through. The thought of sex with his baby girl always brought up an instant erection. Even after busting a nut, he was ready to go again with another big load waiting for her at the end. Erik used his big hands to lift her completely off his lap and onto her back. Expertly, Erik shoved her knees toward her shoulders to get a look at her fat, hot, cream-centered pussy. It was trimmed neatly with rosy pink inner lips extending beyond her outer lips.

Erik’s eyes reminded Y/N of midnight as he looked up at her through his curled lashes. He looked absolutely delicious. Even with his lips centimeters away from her pussy, Y/N had to take him all in: short dreads in his eyes, gold slugs in his mouth, and smooth brown skin the color of warm caramel. He also has the sexiest, piercing black eyes that always seemed to see straight into her soul. And just like that his fingers are massaging and tugging gently at her clit, preparing for what she knew would come next. He just kept looking at her with those eyes of his with her pussy in his face, and then lowered his head between her legs. Y/N swore she started cumming from the first flick of his warm, skillful tongue, the feeling was so intense.

Erik alternated between licking and sucking gently on her clit, while sticking one, then two fingers inside of her. This man knows her body so well. What she liked. What drove her crazy. He always made sure his girl got hers before he did. With the fingers that were inside of her, Erik put them in his mouth and sucked off her wetness before replacing his fingers with his tongue. With the way he spread her plump pussy lips apart, Y/N could see his tongue flicking, circling, and disappearing inside of her. Mercilessly, Erik tongue-fucked Y/N to the point of her squealing and moaning. He didn’t slow down his movements for a second. She attempts to lock his head between her thighs but Erik’s strong hands pushed her thighs back further. Y/N’s body began to convulse with orgasmic sensations. She pushed at Erik’s head and that’s when he gave her a break.

“Daddy…you didn’t tell me what she told you,” Y/N spoke breathlessly.

“You sure you’ll be able to handle that with this dick down your throat?” Erik said.

“I promise. I just want to hear the sexy story for myself…”

“Aight.”

Erik swiped his tongue over Y/N’s clit a few times before kissing up her belly. Smiling, Erik crawled out of bed and pulled Y/N’s body to the edge. From the little bit of light shining through the window, Y/N could see his long, fat dick in her face and her mouth watered instantly.

“I’m hungry, feed me,” Y/N purred.

Whack whack, Erik slapped his pipe against the sides of her face, “Is this what you’re hungry for?”

“Yes, please give it to me. I always want this dick in my mouth.”

“Then open up for daddy,” Erik said as Y/N dropped her head over the side of the bed, slowly feeding his long dick into her mouth until the whole thing was in.

“Don’t choke, baby, take your time…mmm…and keep your thighs open so I can see your pussy…”

Y/N definitely mastered her gag reflex as she gave deep-throat head effortlessly. Slurping and sucking his dick in and out of her mouth, Y/N drenched it with spit. In a constant rhythm she sucked him in halfway, to the tip, then to the base with her tongue, licking up and down the underside. Erik began to moan and cuss loudly.

“Raven told me about how she fucked the shit out of her best friend…grinding her clit on hers and squirting all over her throbbing pussy. feeling her soft moans in her mouth while she finger-fucked her. hold her legs back while she shoved her tongue in her pussy until she cried…she said her best friend begged her to keep fucking her pussy with that clit…”

Y/N found herself rubbing her clit to Erik’s words. She imagined what Raven would say to her when the moment finally happened.

I wanna make you squirt

This pussy gonna make me cum all over you

Y/N’s lips loosened around Erik’s dick so she could moan.

“You like that shit? The thought of her squirting all over your pussy? You gon’ make her pussy cum in your mouth?”

Y/N stopped sucking to speak, “Yes, daddy.”

“I’ll be right there, baby. Fuck, suck this fucking dick. Here,” Erik said, stuffing his dick in her mouth. She bobbed her head up and down as she sucked his dick and licked the length.

The area around Y/N’s pussy was so sensitive that she couldn’t fucking stand it. Her pussy was swollen and wetter than it had ever felt before the more Erik talked about Raven and her nasty all girl orgies.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby, make daddy nut for the third time tonight, fuck, mm, get that nut out this dick, baby, shit, look what you making me do!”

Y/N was a starving woman, frantically bobbing her head back and forth, lips sealed right to meaty shaft and cheeks billowing with pressure, sucking and sucking on Erik’s dick. Y/N took even breaths and plunged down to his pubes and pulled back up again, consuming his big dick over and over. His dick filled her mouth and throat, satiating a small part of her pent-up appetite, but not nearly all of it. She wanted sweet pussy in her mouth next.

“FUCK,” Erik pulled out of her mouth with a grunt. He couldn’t believe how much he exploded inside of her mouth and that he wasn’t finished with her.

“Daddy, look at my pussy,” Y/N parted her lips for him and rubbed her clit with her middle finger, “Juicy, Right?”

“Fat and juicy…I’m about to drop another load in that beautiful pussy, baby.”

Erik flips Y/N over onto her stomach and raised her hips up with her knees on the edge of the bed. Slowly, with his large hands on her hips, he eased his rigid dick inside until it reached the base. Immediately her body shuddered, as if it was all it needed to reach a climax. Erik used Y/N’s hips to force her down while he pumped her pussy. Y/N skillfully moved her hips in circular and up-and-down motions. When he realized how eager she was to have his dick Erik entered her tight pussy more forcefully and a loud, smacking sound from his dick and her innards separating for him filled the room.

“Ah, fuck me, daddy! Fuck me! Yes! Yes!” Y/N screamed.

His thighs collided with her ass hard. So hard she felt it all the way to her stomach. Her face contorted as she whispered the word yes over and over.

“You know I love this fat ass pussy, right? Bend that back and take this fuckin’ dick!”

Erik couldn’t look away from her beautiful, dark, meaty lips wrapped around his dick from her vice grip.

“Keep creaming on daddy, baby. Daddy love this wet pussy so much—”

“Yes! Fuck!” Y/N could feel an intense orgasm surge through her body and Erik sped up the pace.

“GODDAYUM, oh yeah, baby, take this dick!!!!!” 

Erik’s dick swelled inside of Y/N and released another huge load deep inside of her for the third time that evening. He could feel the sweat from his body dripping to the bed and Y/N’s back. Erik looked at her pussy with a bite of his bottom lip, slowly sliding out and groaning from how much she squeezed him.

“That puss don’t want this dick to go. Fuck…”

Erik dropped down to his knees on the carpet behind Y/N, pussy-level. She was sodden, beat up, dripping with moisture, lips swollen and slick on the outside, pink and gleaming on the inside. Erik stuck his tongue out and touched her flaps with the tip on each side.

“Erik!” Y/N gasped, jerking.

Erik licked up her slit from deep in between her legs to the top of her trimmed mound, dragging her pussy in one long, hard, wet stroke.

“You love eating my pussy, daddy!” Y/N moaned, ass bouncing above his head because she couldn’t keep still.

He lapped her pussy, stroking her flaps with his tongue, scooping up her creamy juices and gulping them down.

“Ooooh, baby!”

Y/N’s legs quivered out of control. Erik talked nasty shit about how good her pussy tastes and how it’s fat and filled with his cum. He couldn’t stop himself from spreading her plumped pussy lips wide with his fingers, exposing her shining pink and swollen clit. He started spearing her pussy with his wet tongue.

“Fuck!” Y/N cried, jolted by the impact of his tongue in her pussy. Erik pistoned his head back and forth, pumping her, fucking her with his tongue before burying it deep, squirming it around with a wild shake of his head and full of tapered locs, digging deep into her soaked pussy. Y/N bent over almost in two, reaching back to grab onto Erik’s head, overcome with so much emotion and pleasure. Erik pulled his tongue out and dragged it along her fleshy inner lips again before sucking her clit up like a sweet treat.

“Erik, oh my god, baby, please,” Y/N gasped.

Erik kissed her clit, engulfed it with his lips and vacuum-sealed her clit, his cheeks billowing. Y/N quivered wickedly with her muffled cries.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum!” Y/N wailed.

Erik spit her clit out with saliva and stood up with a heavy exhale and her juices all over her face. Y/N moaned low and long, unable to move from the bed from how numb her body felt. Erik spanked her cheeks around before giving her a kiss on her lower back.

“Okay, I think I’m really done for the night this time,” Erik’s deep voice spoke tiredly. He walked blindly towards the bathroom within the darkness of the bedroom to quickly cleanse himself.

Y/N crawled onto the bed and got with a content sigh and a smile on her face. She could see Erik washing his face at the sink, his dick still hardened despite his words of being finished. After he cleansed his face, Erik brushed his teeth and left the light on for Y/N to do the same. On her way out of the bed, Erik slapped her ass.

“Is Raven going to be at the studio tomorrow?”

“You know it. She has a shoot like every week to keep up with her portfolio and modeling lifestyle. Tomorrow we’re shooting a scene where she’s dripping wet. I think you’ll love this one, baby.”

Y/N couldn’t conceal her excitement.

“That’s the perfect time to ask her then. I’ll go with you.”

Erik folded his hands behind his head as he laid back against the pillows, smiling at the ceiling.

“My baby girl ain’t playing. So, you remember how you did it with Dashawn, right? You gotta have that same confidence with Raven. Don’t let her boldness distract you from making a move. Look her in the eyes and tell her how bad you want her. I already know it’ll work.”

“Raven seems like she’s always in control,” Y/N said in between scrubbing the back of her teeth.

“Don’t worry about allat. Show that bitch that you can take control too. Let her know straight up how you want it. With your tongue up her pussy.”

Y/N rinsed her mouth out and wiped off her hands. She turned the light off in their bathroom and joined Erik in bed. Y/N snuggled close to him and rested her head on his solid chest.

“Night, baby girl, you wore me out,” Erik kissed her forehead.

“Night,” Y/N closed her eyes and within seconds she was off to sleep.

_______________

Erik has a special part of his studio dedicated to shooting scenes with water or even paint. Raven posed with her left foot propped up against a wooden chair with thin, sheer white panties on and a white Henley. Her loose curls that were once frizzy and dry are now damp against her head. The water from the sprinklers rained down on her and the water mimicked rain bouncing off pebbled rock around her feet. Erik flicked it up on his new Nikon D850 camera, taking several photos of Raven in that pose before adjusting the studio lights. Keeping it comfortable during this wet photo shoot, Erik wore a simple white tee and black basketball shorts with his feet bare. His tapered locs are pulled back from his face so they wouldn’t drip in his eyes from all the water.

“Hold that pose, Rae, poke your hip out a little more for me, good, raise your chin a little bit, you look so damn good girl, mmm! Aight, one more like this and then I want you to take off your shirt.”

“You know I always gotta get naked for my shoots, Erik,” Raven laughs.

“That’s why I said take off that shirt. Aight, focus, girl.”

Erik snapped two more pictures before waiting until Raven removed her shirt. Her plum sized breasts with big, protruding nipples stood at attention when she arched her back. Raven closed her eyes and tilted her head back, allowing the water to cascade over her face.

“Don’t you move, I like this shot,” Erik found a good angle and took a few pictures, “Baby, come take a look at this.”

Erik looked over his shoulder at Y/N as she walked over to see the photos. Y/N had on jean shorts with a white cropped tee and her curly hair styled in a pineapple.

“You like this?” Erik showed her the picture of Raven with her titties out. The water felt cold beneath her feet and from how hard Raven’s nipples are she knew she had to be shivering.

“I like it,” Y/N said with a low voice.

So there she was, staring at Raven and suddenly her eyes latched onto hers. Raven grinned, and Y/N stood there nervous as all hell. Somehow she managed to slightly wave at Raven. She waved back.

“I think we’re finished. I got forty pictures and when I get home I’ll go through them to figure out which ones to send you. Cool?”

“Fine with me, you got any wine?” Raven asked as she walked off set with her breasts bouncing with each step. She stood on the opposite side of Erik, peering over his shoulder at her photos. Y/N caught a whiff of jasmine and cedar wood wafting from Raven’s honey glazed skin.

“I have a few bottles of chilled white wine if that’s okay with you,” Erik said.

“Fine by me. I’m not ready to go yet,” Raven rested her chin on Erik’s shoulder as her penetrating gaze sought out Y/N’s, “How have you been, beautiful? Long time no see.”

“I’ve been great, actually. You?”

“Booked and busy, chile. I’ll be out of town in a couple of days so I wanted to get this shoot done before then. Thanks to your man here he cleared his schedule just for me.”

Raven pecked Erik’s cheek.

“I’m starting to think you’re his favorite client,” Y/N said.

“I better be,” Raven sassed before sauntering away, “I’ll grab the wine! Y/N come sit with me so we can catch up!”

Y/N’s eyes never left Raven, not even when she went to retrieve the wine. It was like seeing her for the first time all over again. Y/N almost fell back down when she caught a glimpse of her. She looked exotic—short, jet-black ringlets, smooth caramel skin, deep-set sienna eyes, and full luscious lips. Raven spotted Y/N looking when she took a seat on Erik’s black leather sectional and gave her a warm smile before waving her over.

“While you two get acquainted, I’m gonna get these fans going in here so this water can dry up. Hey,” Erik’s lips brushed across Y/N’s neck, “breathe, baby. Get some of that wine to loosen you up a bit.”

“Kay,” Y/N accepted Erik’s tongue and a slap on the ass before taking tentative steps towards Raven. She’s drinking her glass of wine and flipping through a photo album with some of Erik’s best work.

“What took you so long to come over here?” Raven asked, “I was about to say you didn’t want my company?!”

Y/N couldn’t help but to laugh at her words. Raven shut the album.

“You aren’t cold,” Y/N said, pointing her finger and Raven’s bare chest.

“No. I’m good like this,” Raven peered down at her chest before shimmying her shoulders to make them sway, “It’s just breasts! If you want, you can get comfortable too.”

“Oh,” Y/N could feel desire blossom in her belly, “Maybe after a few sips of wine.

Y/N helped herself to wine.

“So that means that you would take off your shirt then?” Raven asked.

“Y-yeah,” Y/N gulped down some of her wine, “So. What do you model for exactly? I never asked.”

“I used to model for Playboy but now I do my own thing to build my portfolio with Erik and to make some extra cash, I model nude for this exclusive black-owned porn company called the triple B.”

“Really?” Y/N cleared her throat, “What’s that stand for?”

“Black Beautiful Bodies. I wish it was something nastier,” Raven chuckled.

“Oooh, I see, that’s what’s up! So does that mean that you—you know—take other pictures as well?”

“Define other?”

“Like…pictures of your vagina.”

“Yes!” Raven squealed, “Has Erik ever taken nude photos of you with his camera?”

Y/N became bashful.

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me this big time photographer never asked his girl to pose nude before! I mean…I couldn’t see why he wouldn’t with a body like that on you.”

“He has…a few times.”

“How were you posed,” Raven helped herself to more wine, “Lingerie strip tease? Fresh out the shower? After steamy sex?”

“After sex and in lingerie but not a strip tease.”

“Erik likes full on shots. His favorite is when my legs are spread wide and my pussy is doing the smiling for the camera.”

Y/N’s body shivered. She knew her man took all kinds of photos but to hear it from Raven it surprised and intrigued Y/N.

“Sexy, right? I’m assuming Erik enjoys the same for you?”

“Y-Yes,” Y/N adjusted her hips, “He does.”

“And let’s not forget breast shots. Your DDs put my 34Bs to shame, honey,” Raven said with a smile.

��You have nice breasts though…they’re pretty.”

Raven arched a brow, “and so are yours and I haven’t even seen them! Look at you. You’re gorgeous!”

Raven slid closer beside Y/N until her knee was rubbing against hers.

“How much more wine before I get to see those big titties?”

“Not long,” Y/N dropped her eyes to her lap, “Rae…there’s something I want to ask you.”

Raven crossed one leg over the other, “Ask away.”

Y/N hesitated, not sure how to ask because of how nervous she is. She tried to build confidence but the more Raven looked at her the way she was, the more difficult it became. It had honestly slipped her mind between their skin making contact and Raven rubbing her index finger around the tip of her wine glass like she was fingering a nipple.

“Okay, so, um, I’m bisexual, right…”

“Right,” Raven reiterated.

“And I’ve never been with a woman before—”

“Get out, seriously?”

“No lie.”

“Why?”

“Well…because I’m new to this whole thing. I told Erik some days ago for the first time.”

“Aww, Y/N,” Raven sat her glass down and caressed Y/N’s thigh, “That’s so cute. I mean, I already knew but I’m glad you told Erik about it. So, what’s your question?”

“What I wanna know is if you’d be down to hook up…with me? And Erik?”

From the way Raven’s eyes twinkled and her lips parted ever so slightly, Y/N knew that her answer would be an instant yes. She felt relieved and a little less nervous. Still, it’s Raven. Y/N could feel her wetness coming down into her panties the more she sat there holding Raven’s gaze.

“Take off your shirt,” Raven cooed with a lick of her lips.

Y/N sat her glass down and with shaky fingers she began taking off her cropped white tee. She had on a nude T-shirt bra underneath that Raven didn’t hesitate to help her out of.

“So, that’s a yes?” Y/N asked with a timid giggle.

“It’s a hell yes. Girl, if only you knew how much I wanted to steal you from Erik and have you all to myself.”

“W—what about Erik? Have you ever…thought about it?”

“A few times. Your man used to slang dick up in here before he met you. Models would line up to get a piece of Erik. I came in one time an hour before my shoot and found him buried deep in some chick. That shit turned me on.”

“He told me about that one,” Y/N said, feeling her breasts fall freely from the bra.”

“Just that one? Your man used to get down with more than one, you like that?”

“I actually do,” Y/N exhaled when she felt the fabric of her bra brush past her hard nipples and Raven’s warm breath on her ear.

“Kinky…” Raven whispered before flicking Y/N’s ear with her tongue.

Raven seductively started rubbing Y/N’s nipples from behind, pinching them in between her thumbs and forefingers. Her nipples were so hard it was almost painful. Y/N closed her eyes and shuddered when she felt Raven’s lips sucking on her earlobe. Y/N didn’t know what to do with her hands so she placed them on Raven’s thighs.

“Titties are so big and soft,” Raven whispered, “I want to lick wine off your nipples.”

“Yeah?” Y/N said with a hushed tone.

“Uh-huh…you’re just so sweet I’d eat a whole meal off of you…”

She turned her body around to face Raven and their chests touched, hard nipples rubbing against each other. Raven brushed some of Y/N’s hair from her face and slowly leaned in with her luscious lips parted. Her wet, versatile tongue traced Y/N’s lips and then she used her teeth to latch onto Y/N’s bottom lip. Y/N feeling more confident placed her hands on Raven’s breasts and used her thumbs to tweak her nipples. The leather crinkled beneath their bodies as they moved to taste each other deeper. Y/N couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Lay back,” Raven said.

Y/N did as she was instructed, heavy breasts spread out sideways from her position. Raven picked up the bottle of wine and went to straddle Y/N. Raven tipped the bottle over and the cold white wine covered Y/N’s chest. Her back arched and quickly she moaned when Raven’s lips circled her left nipple. She sucked hard and Y/N could feel her nipple being tugged. It felt so damn good. When Raven started tickling it with the tip of her tongue Y/N started to squirm. She could feel heat against her and when her eyes opened, Y/N was staring up at Erik. He didn’t even have to whip that dick out to show that it’s hard. His massive dick created a prominent and very noticeable bulge.

Raven’s back is arched and her tight, bubbly ass sat high enough for Erik to see her pussy lips through her panties. Y/N still had on her jean shorts and from the way his heavy-lidded eyes kept staring at them both she knew he would rather see naked pussy as well. Raven could feel his eyes on them too so she popped her lips off a nipple and looked back at Erik with a sly grin.

“She told me everything. So are we doing this right now or what?”

“No need to take this party elsewhere, might as well keep it going.” Erik said.

“You hear that, Y/N, looks like we’ll be rubbing pussies on this couch.” Raven said with a flick of her tongue.

“Mmm,” Erik hummed, “I got just the thing for this moment.”

“Let me guess, your camera,” Y/N said with a smile.

“Yep!” Erik jogged off to grab one of his cameras.

That left Raven and Y/N to explore each other more. Raven kissed along Y/N’s nipples before dragging her lips and tongue up her neck and to her mouth. They kissed intensely; tongue, spit, a roll of the hips, and moans. It felt so good to Y/N when Raven’s nipples clashed with hers. It made her tremble. Raven’s tongue is eager in Y/N’s mouth each time she ran it back and forth against hers.

“Y/N,” Raven moaned against her lips, “I really wanna taste you…”

Raven sat up on her knees to unfasten Y/N’s shorts.

“Play with your breasts for me,” Raven said with parted lips.

Y/N cupped her breasts and rolled them together sensually. She brings a nipple to her mouth to suck on while Raven slides her bottoms down revealing a freshly waxed pussy. Erik returned shirtless with his camera in hand. With a lick of his lips he aimed the camera at the two gorgeous women and sapped a couple of shots of Y/N playing with her breasts while Raven positioned herself between her legs.

“Shit, y’all got my dick hard,” Erik palmed himself, “bring her legs back some more, Rae.”

Raven brought Y/N’s knees to her chest and Erik had a clear shot of Y/N’s fat, wet vulva spread open. The look of desire on her face with her hair in her eyes had Erik lowering his pants to show them just how stiff that fat dick is. Raven and Y/N shared a look and knowing smiles. Y/N reached out and gripped Erik’s fully grown erection, bringing him closer with a gentle tug of his dick. Raven giggled with a bite of her lip.

“Now that’s how you bring a big dick into the equation,” She smoothed her hands down his abs and made her voice low, “I can’t wait to see how this feels.”

“Damn, girl,” He Erik popped Raven’s ass, “Stick that long tongue out and rest it on her clit. I gotta capture that shit.”

Raven divided Y/N’s soaked lips to make her clit poke out more and then she stuck her tongue out and rested the pointed tip of it against her clit while looking in the camera.

“Mmmmhhhnmmm,” Erik leaned in to get a close up, “wet ass pussy…Rae, wrap your lips around it…make that fat pussy cum.”

“Ffffuckkk,” Y/N sat up on her elbows and threw her head back. Raven’s tongue was just how she imagined—warm, and skillful. She didn’t waste time making Y/N’s pussy twitch and quiver. She would made loud slurping noises when she lapped at Y/N’s pussy. Erik got down on his knees and pressed his lips into Y/N’s, the soft warm feel of his chest against her breasts as he let the tip of his tongue flick tiny licks along her seam.

“She’s eating my pussy so good, daddy—”

“The way she working that mouth on your pussy got me hurting over here,” Erik gripped his dick and stroked it, “buck your hips in her face…just like that…feed her that puss. Rae, open your mouth like you wanna fit her whole pussy in there…”

Loud smacking noises came from Raven’s mouth and Erik watched with his wet lips poked out as Raven sucked up all Y/N’s wetness spewing from her core.

“You taste so sweet, so juicy, like mangoes,” Raven said.

“Eat my pussy,” Y/N whimpered, her cries of pleasure adoring Raven’s mouth. Raven and Y/N stared at each other.

“Let me taste her pussy off your tongue…”

Raven lifted up and her long tongue extended out for Erik to wrap his lips around it and start sucking. Y/N watched them kiss heatedly and messily with lots of slurping. Erik hissed when Raven’s dainty hand found it’s way to his fat dick, stroking it slowly. He reached around to fondle Raven’s pussy through her panties with a deep frown on his face.

“Why the fuck you still got panties on, ma? Couldn’t wait to have my girl pussy in your mouth that’s why.”

“Here,” Raven turned her back towards Erik with her ass in the air and a wiggle of her slender hips, “Take them off of me.”

Erik licked his lips and kneeled down behind Raven’s ass, planting kisses to her cheeks. Raven could hear Y/N’s mewling and when she looked at her she could see her fingers playing with her clit and her wet entrance convulsing.

“I didn’t forget about you baby…” Raven sucked on two fingers before she spread her labia and started fingering her. Y/N’s breasts swayed from her movement, “Erik gets to suck and lick all over these big breasts any time he wants…so lucky…”

“Spread your legs some more, Rae…mmm,” Erik started tonguing Raven’s folds. Her full and puffy outer lips hid her tiny jewel and when Erik spread her wide his eyes gleamed with lust at how glistening and pink she is. It reminded him of cotton candy and it tasted like she’d been munching on berries.

All you could hear were the mixture of moans at various levels and creamy sounds. Erik had a firm grip of Raven’s tight, little ass and all Y/N could see is his face move up and down, swiping her and covering her with saliva. Y/N could practically feel the heat radiating from her pussy and when she noticed how flushed and swollen her pussy lips were, it let her know that her release was right around the corner.

With Raven’s fingers moving in and out of her with gusto, waves of pleasure ran through her and she felt her release building higher and higher. Y/N couldn’t peel her eyes away from Erik’s rigid pipe with pre-cum dripping from his wide tip. If she looked close enough, she could see several bulging veins throb.

“Fuck, I love how you eat pussy, Erik,” Raven’s mouth formed an O, “Shitttttt, suck on that clit!”

When Raven’s limber leg raises up Y/N gasped at how Erik’s lips glided up and down with a suction so tight around her clit.

“Daddy, eat that pussy,” Y/N moaned, “Fuck, she’s creaming so much—”

“Yes, oh, nigga, eat me!”

Raven clawed the couch and her body began to spasm. She gasped out loud as if she lost the will to breathe. Not once did Erik release his hold on her folds.

“I’m squirting! Erik!”

She couldn’t finger Y/N any longer. Raven cried out and shouted Erik’s name repeatedly.

“Daddy, my turn,” Y/N groaned, barley able to speak. Raven cursed when Erik finally unraveled his big lips from her pussy. A sticky stream trickled from Raven’s pussy and she watched Erik thrust his thick meat down Y/N’s throat. He jammed that solid pole all the way down her throat in one motion.

“Ohh, shit. She sucking all that?” Raven said with envious eyes.

“You gotta bring that mouth to me if you want some too,” Erik said with a bite of his bottom lip.

Raven straddles Y/N and pressed her face against hers. She had a magnifying view of Erik’s dick digging out Y/N’s throat. She cupped his big balls and weighed them in her hand, pleasantly aroused and drooling to get her lips around those. They dangled and tapped Y/N’s chin each time he went lower.

“Sharing is caring, Y/N. Let me see if I can get it all the way down like you…Erik!”

Raven snatched his dick up and bobbed her head hard. Y/N peppered kisses along his length with her eyes on Erik. Raven slurped on him like it was her first time with a big dick in her mouth. Y/N let her do her thing, soaking wet and throbbing from the visual alone.

“Ughhhhhh,” Erik was motionless. His straping thighs flexed hard and out of his control.

“Fuckin’ suck this dick!” He told her with a deep, commanding voice.

Y/N watched with rapid attention as Erik cradled the back of Raven’s neck and fucked her throat.

“Get that dick, Rae, Y/N, I know you see my nuts in your face. Make this dick cum, both of y’all.”

When his voice got raspy and deep like that Y/N knew he was ready to explode. Raven popped her lips off of Erik’s dick and fed it to Y/N while she licked his balls. Y/N wiggled her tongue in Erik’s slit so she could hear him moan. He had a hand on the back of each of their heads as he grunted and groaned.

“Suck that nut out, fuck! Y’all ain’t playing.”

They surely weren’t. Both women took turns like generous little sluts and showed Erik what they could do with their tongues and lips to get his nut out.

“Fuck, ima bust on both of y’all pretty bitches—FUCK—goddamn, got my dick leaking like a motherfucker—”

Raven and Y/N rubbed their faces along Erik’s dick as he spurted out a hefty load. They didn’t leave a trace behind except for their own faces. When Raven and Y/N shared yet another kiss, Erik grabbed his camera to take a picture of them with his cum shining on their beautiful, brown faces.

“Look at us, covered in cum,” Raven said with a smile.

“I could use yours on my face now,” Y/N kissed Raven with her needy lips, “sit on my face.”

“Bold, I like that.”

Raven didn’t waste time climbing onto Y/N’s face. She arched her back and dropped her pussy down in her wide open mouth. Hips grinding, Raven savored the gentleness of Y/N’s tongue.

“It’s okay, you can lick harder,” Raven said.

“Open that pussy up and move your tongue all around, baby,” Erik instructed, “you see that tiny little clit? Make that shit grow. Take the tip of your tongue and work that motherfucka’.”

“Like this,” Y/N twisted her tongue around Raven’s clit.

“Yeahhh,” Erik spanked Raven’s ass and then with both of his hands he separated her cheeks to expose her pussy more, “You doing that shit, baby. Look at how much she’s creaming. Bring your tongue right there and eat it up…Mhm…take that pussy, baby, take that pussy…”

“Unh!” Raven moaned.

“She likes it like that, look at her clenching up…ima open that tight pussy up.” 

“Look, daddy,” Y/N spit on Raven’s pussy causing her hips to jolt.

“Dayum,” Erik whacked his dick on Raven’s ass, “Do what I did…open that pussy and lick right below her clit…make that pussy squirt…I want you to taste it for yourself.”

“F—ff—fuckkkk,” Raven flexed her back muscles and Erik jiggled her ass. 

Y/N gulped her juices down and she couldn’t believe how sweet she tasted. She needed her pussy rubbing on hers right now. Raven seemed to read her mind because she spread her hips and Y/N brought her knees to her chest. Raven got into position and started slowly grinding her pussy against Y/N’s. Y/N struggled at first but Erik raised her hips from behind and damn…that’s when she felt it all. Y/N was overwhelmed with the sensation. She started grinding up into Raven, their clits sliding against each other and it felt so good. They both grew wetter and wetter, pussies fitting perfectly together. Their sloppy pussies bumped and angelic moans pleased Erik’s ears. Loud, pussy-smacking noises had Erik talking nasty to both of them.

“yes,” Y/N said with a sweet-sounding moan.

“Baby, that pussy,” Raven spoke softly, lost in the feeling.

“You like that? Huh?” Raven said with a roll of her hips.

“Uh-huh, oooohhhh, fuck.”

“I’m fucking the dog shit out of both y’all after this. I mean that shit, fuck,” Erik got down on his knees so he could watch, “Ima pick you up and slam you on my dick…make you cum…this shit is so beautiful.” 

“Daddy! Her pussy feels so good on me,” Y/N exclaimed.

Unh! Unh! Umph! Oooh! Unnnn! Uhhhhh! Ahh! 

They changed positions suddenly and in no time Y/N started bouncing her clit against Raven’s while Erik smacked her ass and encouraged her to keep going. 

“Make me cum, Y/N!” Raven shouted.

Since they were so wet, their sticky folds made macaroni noises. They dirty talked to each other and when Y/N circled her hips, she came before Raven did and gushed juices all over her pussy. 

“I’m not finished, bitch, ima keep fuckin this pussy!” Raven grabbed her hips and thrusted up to continue humping on her clit. With a tremble of her legs, Y/N pounded her pussy into Raven’s and nothing but creamy, wet, sloppy, smacking sounds could be heard. 

“This your pussy, Raven,” Y/N moaned, “You own this pussy!”

“Damn…I’m cumming, ohhh!!”

Raven spasmed and spilled her juices. Both of their inner thighs were drenched. 

That was enough to have Erik on his feet and grabbing Y/N off the couch in one Swift motion with his strong arms curled under her thighs. With just his sinewy hips, Erik thrust into Y/N hard. The weight of his dick sliding in and out of her in that position made her eyes cross and her mouth hang open with amazement. Y/N couldn't control the involuntary spasms her pussy was doing on his erection. It was like her vagina was priming the pump for her release. She gripped his shoulders tightly because the way Erik bounced her body she couldn’t keep still.

"Look at you, baby. Getting dick and pussy in one night. She got this pussy nice and wet for me to slide in real good. Sweet pussy on you," he hissed when he felt her squeeze around him. His hand kept slapping Y/N’s ass. 

Raven’s resolve weakened as she watched and listened to Y/N’s body take Erik's rough handling of her. She went limp in his arms and simply gave her body and her soul over to him. She could only take it as she felt that big dick ramming in and out of her. He hit the back of her pussy when he dipped his hips and that’s when she lost it and came all over his dick. 

Erik retracted his hips and watched Y/N leak all over him. Still panting, Y/N was placed on the couch and Erik picked up Raven to do the same to her. He folded her body in two with her legs over his shoulders. Erik planted his feet on the floor and every beautiful muscle in his body flexed as he crouched down to dig into Raven. The slapping sound of their flesh bounced off of the studio walls and they shared a deep look of immense pleasure. 

“Fuck!” Raven gasped as she watched his face as his lips opened and his eyes shut tight. She felt his dick harden inside her more. 

“That big dick wants to cum!” Raven shouted. 

“Erik, shit,” Y/N was desperate for him and when his eyes met hers she turned that ass around to show him her sloppy pussy. 

“Erik! You and this big dick—DAMNIT!” 

Raven’s toes curled and when Erik pulled back she shivered from how much he stuffed her. Back at the couch, Erik determined to finish, He ordered Raven to arch her back just like Y/N so he can take turns clapping both of their cheeks. 

“You first, I’m not playing with you. This my pussy,” Erik spoke roughly to Y/N before sliding his steely pole deep inside of her. Her back arched on its own and it didn’t take long for Erik to find his rhythm. 

"Baby…fuck me…fuck me…fffffuuuckkkmeeee…"

His taut abs flexed when Y/N started throwing it back. Raven reached out to touch her cheeks. Erik noticed and gave her a smile before tasting her lips. 

“Hold her ass open for me,” He whispered to Raven. 

Erik’s dick hit spots she couldn’t explain. Raven stared at his dick working her slick pussy and when Y/N clenched down she moaned. All she could see was Erik’s dick pulsating. 

“Shit…give me your pussy,” Erik pushed Raven down further with his hand on the back of her neck, “Get this dick.” 

“Mmm!!!” Raven wasn’t prepared, “Damn, it’s so big. My pussy is wide open for you!”

“Erik, fuck her good,” Y/N cooed.

“Pop that little ass, you want me to fuck you that’s what’s it is,” Erik grabbed her petite hips and slammed into her. 

Raven groaned hoarsely. Erik was tearing her pussy up. Y/N grabbed his sack and massaged it at the same time. Erik threw his head back and with his thick fingers he gripped as much of Raven’s short hair as he could. 

“I’m nutting!” Raven cried out. 

“Fuck…here it comes…get in position…I’m about to bust…bring that ass up!!!” 

Y/N bounced her cheeks and looked back at Erik jerking his fat dick, thick, creamy, cum shooting out all over their asses and backs. 

“Hold that position…fuck! shit don’t make no sense...” 

Erik grabbed his camera from the floor and took one final picture of Raven and Y/N staring into the lenses with his cum all over them. Y/N got exactly what she wanted for her first time and it lived up to her fantasies. She couldn’t look at Raven without wanting to fuck her again. She’s just that addictive.

[navegandoaciegas]

Hay(wire)

Kinktober 1/31 : quickie, face fucking, facial.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: smut, explicit language, unprotected vaginal sex, sex in a barn, oral sex, facial, set after the events of CA:TWS.

Yeah, I actually did it 💀

A/N: day 1 of @itgetsdarksometimes35 spooky challenge + Kinktober.

Bucky despises you.

He loathes how his heart rate picks up whenever he sees you, or how the pit in his stomach grows larger when he doesn't. He can’t stand the way the other farmers talk about you and look at you, but mostly he hates how you bite your lips and clench your thighs when he catches you staring, the tangy scent that floods his senses when he’s close to you, and how you never question why an American veteran would be picking hayballs in the Romanian countryside.

He hates your kindness, the way you hang onto his every word when he describes the night sky, your stained hands and the flowers you weave in your hair, your nipples showing through your white t-shirts, his blood draining from his brain and shooting straight to his cock just looking at you.

You bring out the beast, the soldat lingering inside some recess in his mind, the side of him that wants to own you, and ruin you for everyone else.

You bother him, talking and being nice. Smiling. Cracking jokes. Eating your lunch with him when the other boys are too afraid to approach him. Filling the silence with your stories while he munches on buni’s sarmalele and merely grunts in acknowledgement. Bringing him water when he sweats buckets under the sweltering sun. Shamelessly flirting like you find him attractive.

As if a pretty girl like you could ever want him, he thinks, with the stench of horse shit clinging to his skin and oozing out of his pores.

He scoffs at himself, and stacks another hayball, willing himself to forget all about you.

-

You know he hears your steps on the cobblestones before you enter the barn where he’s stacking hay in neat piles, like he always does before going to bed.

“You can continue this tomorrow, I’m sure buni won’t mind if you take a break.” you quip, closing the door and leaning on the wooden stall.

You eye his tanned skin, reddened by the scorching August sun, the strain on his sweaty long sleeved t-shirt that clings to his bulging biceps, the outline of his back muscles as his chest heaves.

There’s something animalistic about him, something that makes your stomach churn and your pussy tingle. When his t-shirt trails up, you can’t help but observe the hard planes of his abs and the coarse, black hair that trail them.

“I’m doing what she pays me for, and so should you.”

He dismisses you with a curt nod as he keeps lifting the hay and stacking it away for the winter.

By that time, you’ll both be long gone, so you might as well make the most of what you have.

“I’m done picking plums, if you must know.” you state, an unimpressed look making its way on your face. “You work twelve hours everyday, and you won’t drink her țuică or smoke the cigarettes she gives the other boys.” you say, approaching him slowly until you’re standing in front of him, so close you can see the darkness in his eyes and smell his pungent sweat, “She worries about you, you know.”

Your eyes stray from his, traveling down to his plump lips. He swallows thickly and inhales a sharp breath.

“I worry too.” you continue, stalking closer.

His manly, musky scent is intoxicating, and you feel short of breath, heat and slick pooling in your panties.

“Always working, never having any fun. Life must be very lonely for you.”

There’s static energy, or maybe magic, between you two.

“My life’s just fine.”

He’s gruff as always, but you hear his voice waver when his eyes drop to your own lips, and he finds them parted, and so inviting.

You shrug, feeling your skin crawl with anticipation, want, need. “I know, I’m just saying, I could make it less… lonely.”

You see him cave. You know he wants you, and he’s never exactly subtle about it. But when your hand reaches for his left arm, the spell shatters, the air gets sucked out of the little barn, and the growl that he lets out terrifies you and excites you at the same time.

“Stay the fuck away from me.” he snarls, snatching his arm away from you. He looms over you, rage burning behind his steel blue eyes. “Or-”

He interrupts himself, taking a step back and restraining whatever wild instinct is clouding his judgement. The veins on his neck swell up, and the smirk on your lips and your tangy smell only add to his irritation.

You know you shouldn’t prod. You know he could crack your skull in half without breaking a sweat.

But you’ve also seen him bathed in spring’s pollen, cooing at newborn chicks and patting their feathers, whispering soft words in a language you don’t speak. You’ve seen him kissed by the summer’s sunrise, leaning his head on uică Dan’s horse while petting his mane, and humming to mătușă Ana’s cow while milking her.

You’ve seen him sneak outside your room every morning for the past two months to leave wildflowers on your doorstep, and you know he’s the one who carries you to your bed when you fall asleep on the deck chairs outside, after stargazing together for hours, and pecks a lingering kiss on your forehead, whispering to you, his sweet girl, to sleep tight.

So no, you’re not afraid, and very turned on.

“Or what, big guy? What are you going to do?”

Jaw clenched, fists so tight his knuckles are white, nostrils flared. He closes his eyes, heaves a heavy sigh and mutters a ‘fuck that’ under his breath, and in a blur he’s on you.

But he’s not hitting you, no.

Just like you predicted, he goes haywire, feral, his mouth is on yours, his tongue prods your lips, his hands roam everywhere, tangling your hair and kneading the flesh of your ass.

He bites your bottom lip, and you taste metal on your tongue. A moan escapes you when one of his thick thighs comes between your own, and your core rubs against the rough material of his jeans.

“Took you long enough.” you tease him when he allows you to catch your breath.

He’s sweaty, rough, his clothes soiled by the ground he spends his days working on, and you find that you don’t care, that you want him to dirty you and ruin you in this barn, with hay poking your skin and cicadas screaming outside.

You’re staring at each other, panting, eyes swallowed by darkness.

He doesn’t answer, never speaks much anyways. He’s on you again, his hand on your throat, and it doesn’t hurt but it’s tight enough to make its threatening presence known.

Your walls flutter around nothing.

The other hand, splayed on your back, guides you as you grind yourself on his thigh. It’s been two months of sexual tension, and it’s about to explode.

You reach for his t-shirt, eager to feel his skin against yours, but he stops you, and the look in his eyes, hard yet pleading, is enough to make the protest die in your throat.

Your own shirt is discarded, maybe shred to pieces. His touch is bruising and desperate as he explores your body like it’s his last day on Earth.

He nips and sucks your skin, surely leaving dark marks behind, rolling and pinching your nipples between his fingers, swirling his tongue around them until you’re pushing him off of you.

“I need you.” you moan, shrieking when his teeth bite down on your shoulder.

Pain is a bucket of cold water on your burning skin, a contrast to the pleasure he brings you, and yet it doesn’t diminish it, but amplify it until his teeth on your flesh are all you want.

He lets himself fall on the hay, dragging you down with him. It irks you, pokes you, and quite frankly, it doesn’t smell like roses.

But it will do.

He hooks his fingers around the waistband of your leggings and hastly drags them down to your knees, not even bothering to get rid of them.

When he pulls on your hair and spins you around, it’s not romantic. When he forces you face down, ass up, it’s not pretty. When he spits on his hand and roughly shoves two fingers inside you, making you wince, it’s not soft and caring.

“I’ll take care of you later, need to be inside you now, doll. I’ve wanted you since the day I first saw you.” he murmurs.

You hear him fumble with his belt as he keeps rubbing your clit and pumping his calloused fingers in and out of you. “It’s been so long.” he adds, as an afterthought, while he strokes his cock and gets himself ready for you.

The hay scratches your cheeks, and you feel his intense presence as he kneels behind you, ready to take you like an animal in heat.

“Please.” you whine, wiggling your hips and brushing against him, “I need you to fuck me now, James.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, and lines himself up with your entrance, teasing your folds and smearing your arousal on his tip. You feel him prod your tight hole and you brace yourself for the pain, but when he breaches you, your walls stretch perfectly around him, accomodating him, and all you feel is a dull burn that soon gives way to pleasure.

Moaning at the fullness of his heavy weight inside you, you try to bounce on him, but his hands on your hips halt your movement. He's as rough as you expected him to be, and the coil in your core is unbearable.

“Fuck, you’re so damn tight.” he groans, picking up a faster pace, slamming in and out of you. “Made for me, so good.”

He pulls on your hair, and the pain shoots straight to your cunt, making your walls clench on him.

Arching your back you meet his harsh thrusts, feeling his cock hitting that spot inside you, the one that makes the pressure build impossibly fast every time he bumps against it.

It’s all too much and not enough, and when he tugs on your hair again, your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You don’t feel the hay scratching you anymore.

“Fuck me harder.” you plead with tears streaming down your face, revelling in the lewd squelching sounds of your pussy and the slapping ones of his balls hitting your folds.

He never talks, and he won’t start now, you realize. You don’t care though, because all you can think about is his other hand snaking between your legs and furiously rubbing circles around your swollen clit.

You mewl when he snaps his hips and his tip hits your cervix. “I wanna hear those sweet noises pretty girl, wanna hear you fall apart on my cock, only for me.”

He brings you high, and higher, and the pressure grows more and more, until the knot unravels.

“Cum on my cock, fuck, cum all over me sweet girl. I missed this so much.”

When the dam breaks, you feel months of sexual tension release, and the tight coil inside your belly snaps. Your limbs jerk as a hot surge of electricity assails you, and you gush all over his cock, feeling your pussy constrict him in a vice.

He rides your aftershock, pummeling inside you while icy cold claws your every nerve ending. You’re drooling out of your mouth as a man you barely know brutally fucks you like a beast, but in the hazy state you’re in, you couldn’t care any less.

“I’m close.” he gnarls, tightening the hold on your hips, “Where can I-?

“On my face.” You turn and peek over your shoulder just in time to see the shock in his eyes. “I like it that way.” And I’m not on birth control.

When his thrusts become sloppier and his breathing erratic, he pulls out of you and stands. You turn around on your knees and face his thick cock, half wondering how he could make it fit inside your cunt.

“Open those pretty lips of yours babydoll, I want to fuck your mouth too.”

You comply, parting your lips. He shoves himself inside you, clutching your hair and neck as he fucks your mouth relentlessly, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag.

You can’t breathe anymore, but he keeps going, moving your head along his length. You taste him on your mouth, heady and salty, feeling every vein and ridge of him.

You look up, and seeing him all disheveled, hair sticking out everywhere and red faced, lights the fire in your pussy again.

Your hand finds its way between your folds while he holds you down until your nose rubs against the coarse hair on his pubic bones and his balls slap against your chin.

Quickly, he slides out of you, and pumps his cock once, twice. He cums on your face with a moan, painting your lips, cheeks and the tip of your nose with his white hot spurt.

When you open your eyes again, you find him staring at you already, with the most expressive look you’ve ever seen him wear and something akin to a smile dancing on his lips.

“God, doll. I didn’t even know I could do that.” he confesses, all doe eyed. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, babygirl. I’m gonna keep fucking that tight pussy of yours all summer.”

You let out a giggle when he hoists you over his shoulder and the hay that’s stuck to your clothes flies everywhere.

“Gonna fuck you until you’re sore, until you’re sobbing and you beg me to stop. Fill you up over and over again. Make this pussy all mine. No more other farm boys, you hear me?”

He keeps his word that night, and you keep yours all August long, and you know neither of you want this summer to ever end.

—-

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[windblooms]

childe scenario – after the golden house

you, an ex-fatui executive, decide against your better judgment and tend to the wounds of the near-dead 11th harbinger following his duel at the golden house.  spoilers for the 1.1 archon quest.

gender-neutral reader.  enemies to lovers  soft spot syndrome.  sfw, but contains mentions of blood/injury.  also childe briefly in foul legacy armor.  canon-divergence.  2669 words (nice).  

with the fatui’s nails so deep into the city, staying in liyue probably wasn’t your brightest idea in retrospect.  

you blame your sentimentality of liyue on the exact same thing that caused you to leave the fatui in the first place: wanting to live without fear.  while the fatui treated you well enough, as you were considerably efficient in your ranks, being part of a partially underground, partially illegal business wasn’t exactly the most liberating practice either.  it didn’t take long for you to realize that, behind their scheming and pretenses of fair economics, the fatui would have their underlings wound so incredibly tight around their fingers that their violent tasks would rapidly become suffocating. 

that is, once you were in the fatui, getting out would be akin to scaling qingyun peak with one arm tied behind your back.

the only reason you were able to?  because you ran.  you were desperate for a new life, sure, but also you weren’t below realizing when something was out of the question.  it took a few months to shake them off your trail, having to move constantly between fontaine and mondstadt, but you finally settled in liyue.

it was a quiet, peaceful city.  the governing body was fair enough with its jurisdictions, and after a year of hiding, you were able to enjoy the lantern rite festival without fear.

that is, until the northland bank sat its obnoxious ass down the street.

archons, really, once you found a place you thought was safe enough, you’d have to start moving again.  initially, you reasoned that it had been over a year, and that the fatui surely wouldn’t go hunting for a runaway executive.  hell, you weren’t even that high on the ladder.  however, a few run-ins with scaramouche and pulcinella had left you paranoid enough that, if they spotted you, they would surely put an end to your traitorism. 

honestly, you should’ve ratted them out to the knights of favonius while you were in mondstadt.  make a quick bargain, have jean toss a few coins your way, and you would be set.  it would’ve definitely been worth the trouble, now with the knowledge that the fatui were your neighbors.  

now, there’s no time to dwell on what you could’ve done.  it’s either run again, or hold your ground right under the fatui’s nose.  you might, sort of, maybe, probably do not have the funds to move for the third time in a row, but maybe counting couldn’t hurt –

no, yeah, it hurts, you grimace as you slide the coin bag back in your bedside drawer.  outside, it’s dark, and the sky seems a bit more disturbed than usual.  it isn’t usually overcast in liyue, and the blue lightning does nothing to quell your unease.  the streets are also empty, but lights illuminate each building.

from your window, a quick glance towards the northland bank reveals to you that it is uncharacteristically dark.  no lanterns, no lights.  you frown, troubled that the individuals you were so alert to monitoring, had a lifeless stronghold.  not typical of them at all. 

so, you decide while your long-time enemies are plotting (or whatever they’re doing that prompts them to close an entire bank for), now might be the best time to potentially make a run for it, light coin bag be damned.

hastily, you rid your apartment of personal belongings by unceremoniously shoving them into your bag.  if it’s one thing you were grateful for in this world, it’s archon magic.  you don’t fuss over the science behind it, but whatever made your bag feel like a bottomless pit was an actual life-saver.  packing is extremely efficient with it, and in less than fifteen minutes, you’re ready to go.

all that’s left is to write a thank-you note to the liyuen couple who let you stay while their son was out exorcising.  at the time, they assured you that you would be no trouble for you to take up a guest room, but nonetheless you tried to pay them with whatever you had left over after commissions.

you grab a writing utensil, still feeling a bit rude to leave on such short notice, and swear to yourself that you’ll visit in the future.  for good measure (after sullenly looking into your coin bag), you leave an acceptable(-ish) amount of mora on your former bed.

all right.  now, time to leave, with your foot out the door and wind scratching at your face, as if the odd overhead weather wasn’t already an omen.

you’re barely past liyue harbor, headed towards the luhua pools, when a comet shoots above you past mount tianheng.  no, not a comet, you realize as it dips from the sky, headed for landfall around a kilometer away.  a comet of water?

if a dead northland bank wasn’t the nail in the coffin, this surely is.  you’ve been around enough in the fatui to know that whatever fell from the sky has to be the work of a vision user, or some more powerful being.  turning towards where you estimate to be the crash site, you weigh your options.  you’re already outside of the city, and the fatui are probably preoccupied.  you can manage a detour for now and inspect the hydro-apparition.  regardless, you deem that the farther away you are from the water you are, the safer you might be from what’s about to happen – you look back towards liyue harbor, and nearly shudder at the rising tide and choppy waves. 

after about fifteen minutes of walking in the rain, you find yourself between the slope of the dunyu ruins and mount tianheng.  it’s vacant, save for the weathered ruins, and a sizable crater meters wide.  cautiously, you approach the edge, summoning your sword with one hand and conjuring your vision in the other.  you’re not going to let curiosity kill the cat, especially not if this turns out to be a prank by the archons.

in the center of the mess is, well, another mess.  you blink a few times, wary, as you discern that an individual lies in the rubble.  they’re actually conscious, you soon find out, as they righten themselves from the fetal position into a kneel, supporting their body weight with their arms.  their body is covered head-to-foot in dark, purple armor, and a red mask with a broken, center orb gleams faintly in the night.

it is only when you the individual looks up at you, straight at your head, do you realize that you should not be here this was a bad idea –

and then they collapse.

“shit,” you murmur to yourself, vision still pulsing in your palm, which has become increasingly sweaty.  you step back from the edge as an orb of water surrounds the armored-being, encasing him like a cocoon, before dissipating to reveal a much more vulnerable, tired man underneath.  his hair is matted to his face from the rain, yet a much smaller mask rests on his eyes; his clothes are somewhat torn (you suspect that whatever had happened, his armor absorbed most of the damage), and you can very faintly see his chest heave. 

but, ah, speaking of his clothes,

they were the colors of the fatui.

“no, no, bad idea,” you tell yourself over and over again, sword put away yet vision still bouncing in your hands.  you walk away from the crater briefly, before walking towards it again, peaking down to check on the fallen man, and then scamper back.  the whole idea was to run away, not go straight to them, as if you had managed to doom yourself after all.  

pacing back and forth, you contemplate for another minute.  he’s clearly injured, with how he’s laying on the ground and not moving, so the nice, not-so-hardened part of you wants to help him.  if he was a regular civilian, surely you’d already be down there and trying to take him back to liyue and patch him up, but he’s with the enemy.  no way someone who can transform into armor is just an underling, so he’s probably someone exceptionally powerful –

“i see you,” a voice comes from the crater, and your vision nearly explodes in your hands from your nerves.  summoning your sword quicker than you ever have in your life, you steel yourself towards the bottom of the crater.

except, he’s not holding a weapon to your face, or threatening to skewer you into a million pieces.  except, he’s not scowling at you, or demanding you assist him at once before he blows something up.

instead, he’s on his knees.  looking up at you with the desperation of a man completely robbed, crippled from something he can’t speak of yet wants to scream about.  his eyes, now free from the mask, pierce into you with a vividness that could rival the richest hues of luhua, and archons damn it do you melt. 

you melt, and realize you should run away.  you melt, all while cursing yourself, that this man might not be so kind as to spare you in the future, when he’s back at his full health.  you melt, thinking that, well, you haven’t seen him before, so maybe he doesn’t know who you are either.  you melt, even as you extinguish your vision and put away your sword, and slide to the bottom of the crater to lug his limp body back to the top, to the shelter of the ruins, and rummage through your bag for medicine.

he hasn’t said anything for the past ten minutes, and you’re thankful that there’s finally someone from the fatui who can keep their mouth shut, even if this is half-beaten to death.  “you’re not dying on me,” you insist, as if your words could will him back to full consciousness.  “not when i’m risking my life for someone like you.”

as you work on bandaging his arm, out of the corner of your eye you swear you see his mouth twitch.  is he trying to speak?  no, you want some silence for a bit longer, but pause as you notice a gash on his torso.

“this is medically consensual, okay?”  you wait two seconds to see if he objects, before unbuttoning the lower part of his coat and applying pressure on the wound.  the blood has soaked through his clothes, and just as eagerly, seeps into the cloth you’re shoving against it.  the man stirs as you continue to clean his wounds, and when his eyes open, you’re too preoccupied with your short supply of towels to notice.

when you’re aware of a gaze on you, however, you turn towards him with a hardened face.  you already know what you’re going to say.  even if he doesn’t know who you are, you’re going to make it clear that, for your own satisfaction, you won’t help him back to liyue and he’ll have to make the walk himself.

“you were out there,” you say simply, motioning towards the crater with a nod of your head.  “i’ll patch you up, but you’ll have to get further help yourself.”

the man with eyes of the deep regards you, but you busy yourself by applying gauze.  he’s propped up against a pillar, and you’re crouching at his side.  when you’re about finished, only then do you meet his eyes.

he beats you to whatever you’re about to say.  “i didn’t think,” he starts, and you’re already frowning, “that you’d come back.”

ah, referencing when you practically left him in the crater.  his words are vague enough when he says that you ‘came back’ that you aren’t too tense, and you indulge him in a bit of silence before responding.  “not like i’m used to rescuing people who fall from the sky.”

despite his injuries, the man manages a laugh.  he seems almost flustered at your statement, although you can’t understand why.  underneath his soaked bangs, his eyebrows rise, and he seems almost . . . nervous?  you can’t possibly fathom as to why, but dismiss your curiosity.  the more small talk he coerces you into, the longer you’ll spend with him.

you finish sealing the gauze, tossing the roll back into your bag before commanding it to disappear.  blood has soaked into the ground at his sides, also you’re sure that it’ll was away with time.  you’re about to stand up, satisfied with your good-samaritan duties for the day, when he stops you by locking his fingers around your wrist.

he’s in the middle of saying something, but you refuse to let him, drawing your sword and pointing it directly at his throat, his mouth agape as he releases his hold on you.  you consider each other, and when you’re certain you have the upper hand, you draw your line.

you spit the words like venom.  “do not touch me, fatui.  i’ve done what i can for you, and you won’t be getting anything else from me.”

your blade doesn’t lower from his form, and as you stand above him, you regard his hands, as if he might summon his own weapons in an instant.  if he’s smart (which you think he is yet simultaneously pray he isn’t), he’s probably plotting how to get out of your sword’s reach.  you’re not going to let him, after you’ve been so self-sacrificing, putting your life on the line for someone affiliated with the organization that suffocated the life out of you.

a tilt of the head, yet silence from his mouth.  he seems surprised that, while you allowed him to laugh mere moments earlier, you’re now pointing your weapon at him, although something in the ease of his facial features tells you that he’s not concerned in the slightest.

“i wanted to say thank you,” he breathes finally, and you look as if he’d just punched you in the gut.  “being in your position probably isn’t easy, and i’m the last one you wanted to see, but you still . . . ”

fuck, no, not this.  you don’t know if he’s a prophet, if he knows who you really are, or the ‘i’m on the run’ stamp on your forehead is that obvious, but you aren’t going to fall for the fatui’s words.  your fists clench, and you once more prepare to denounce his organization,

and you’re disarmed in an instant, sword thrown to the side and fingers restricted by his larger grasp.  archons, you couldn’t even see him move, what a deceptive bastard, feigning injury –

“stop,” he hushes, and despite your fury you register it as a plea, not a command.  the man repeats himself, before continuing,  “we won’t haunt you any more; i’ll make sure of it.”

five seconds, then ten.  you had determined that his grip was too strong to break free of, and are left in no position to move unless he releases you.  he holds your gaze without a hint of malice, even though you try your hardest to find any in his eyes.  

when he does let go of you, fingers skimming past your flesh, you run faster than you ever have before.

you run, past the ruins, past the harbor, and until you can’t see liyue behind you any more.  you run, unable to see a palace fall from the sky and crash into the ocean, and until you’re surrounded by mountains and there’s not a ginkgo tree in sight.  you run, unsure if his words are true, but certain that he knows who you are.

you won’t trust him.  as you lay on the ground, wheezing to catch the air that’s left your lungs, you once again swear to yourself that you can’t trust the words of the fatui.  

as the northland bank lights ignite themselves in welcome of its master, childe presses a hand to his bandaged torso.  a spark of your vision lingers between his fingers, and he observes it before it disappears.

he’s already hurt enough people.  he heads to the second floor, and erases your name from the fatui files. 

[skinsharpenedteeth]

A Small Piece of Domesticity

I thought of this little Malex scene the other day while I was doing a long drive home from work and it's sickeningly sweet. Hope you like diabetes suckers cause this scene is brought to you by the Sugar and Sacchrine devision of SkinSharpenedTeeth Co. Enjoy!

(Also readable on Ao3 bc of course it is)

--

Most of the time, Alex Manes kept his house reasonably clean. Military life had given him an appreciation for clutterless countertops and losing half a leg had driven in a need to keep all pathways clear so when Michael let himself into Alex’s house to find pieces of clothing strewn in a line towards the bedroom, he was allowed to feel mildly alarmed. His alarm turned to amusement as he followed the trail to find Alex perfectly fine and dead-to-the-world asleep. It wasn’t often that Michael could sneak up on Alex and observe him without him getting flustered and inventing a reason to make Michael stop looking. So now that he had the time, Michael took his fill for a moment. He could tell Alex had probably had a bad day by how quickly he’d stripped, just to lay spread eagle across the bed on his back with his noise-canceling headphones on. Michael could see that his hair was damp from a shower and he’d only gotten dressed in a pair of black boxer-briefs and an undershirt. The tower fan they kept in the room was whirring steadily from the side of the bed, directly across Alex’s body. It’d been hot outside that day, a sweltering August day in the desert, and now the sun was setting, but Michael could still feel the baked warmth of the outer walls radiating inward.

Michael decided he’d leave Alex alone so he could shower his own long, hot day off. Feeling incredibly soft towards the man on the bed, Michael turned and made his way into the bathroom, picking up Alex’s discarded clothes out of the hall as he went, and stuffing them into the hamper before continuing with his own ablutions. As he washed, he tried to concentrate on figuring out dinner and what he needed to do before work tomorrow, but his mind kept wandering back to Alex laid out on the bed like an offering. Shutting off the water, Michael got out of the shower and hastily toweled his hair and body. Finished, he wrapped his towel around his hips and went back into the bedroom. Alex was in the same position as before, arms still spread wide, legs splayed over the cover, eyes closed and dark red headphones still in place.

Michael walked into the room, noting how the orange glow of the setting sun looked against Alex’s skin, and went to stand at the end of the bed. Leaning over, he placed his hands on Alex’s warm, naked thighs and squeezed them lightly to wake Alex up. Alex’s eyes opened and he zeroed in on Michael. Michael smiled up at him and then felt his insides explode with happiness as Alex smiled softly back at him. Alex reached up and pulled his headphones off his head, pushing them over onto the pillow next to him.

“Hey,” he croaked, before clearing his throat and speaking again in a clearer voice. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Michael answered, smirking up at him. He rubbed his hands up and down the firm muscles of Alex’s legs before continuing. “Can anyone join this no-pants party?”

“It’s not really a party unless there’s more than one person,” Alex retorted, half crunching up and reaching down to beckon Michael up to him. Michael loosened his towel and let it fall to the floor before he crawled onto the mattress between Alex’s legs. He could feel Alex’s eyes roving over him, but Michael kept his eyes on where his hands were pushing up the length of Alex’s body. Michael pushed up Alex’s shirt to expose his stomach and immediately nosed the center crease of his abs, inhaling a familiar smell that made his own stomach clench in appreciation.

“Mmm, you used my soap,” Michael commented before laying an open-mouthed kiss above the waistband of Alex’s underwear. One of Alex’s hands combed through Michael’s half-dried curls as he hummed in agreement. Michael pressed up into the pressure of Alex’s hand for a moment before curling his fingers under Alex’s waistband and pulling it further down so he could kiss into the valleys that led from Alex’s hips to where Michael really wanted his mouth to be.

“Yeah, I ran out. I need to buy some more,” Alex replied, voice breathy and distracted. Michael glanced up to see his gaze solely focused on where Michael’s lips hovered over his skin. When he caught Michael watching him, Alex tugged gently at his hair and pulled him up until they could share a kiss. It was like honey and fire between them. Alex cupped the back of Michael’s neck, massaging the sore muscles, while his free hand roamed over all the naked skin at his disposal. Michael hummed in pleasure and settled himself half on top of Alex’s body, enjoying the contrast between where his clothes separated their skin and where it did not.

“How was your day?” Michael asked when they parted for air. He laid his head close to Alex’s, sharing his pillow and letting his fingers trace indistinct patterns across the still exposed skin of Alex’s hip and stomach. Alex shut his eyes as if he needed to stop looking at Michael to put his words in the correct order to answer.

“Long. The a/c in the Explorer needs to be recharged. Reyes had me do some field work today testing a couple hypotheses on the Lockhart Machine and it involved a lot of sweating and standing in the sun. So when I got home I was dirty and caked in salt and tired. My leg was killing me. I took a shower and some pain meds and then laid down. What time is it?” Alex asked, starting to lift up to look over at the bedside clock. Michael stilled him with a hand to his chest.

“It’s around seven. That sound miserable. Do you work tomorrow?” Michael asked, bringing Alex’s attention back to himself and relishing the feeling of Alex’s body relaxing under him again.

“Yeah, we gotta finish up the experiments and I have to write some reports. Shouldn’t be as bad as today,” Alex replied easily. The hand that had been resting on Michael’s neck moved fluidly up into his hair, combing through the damp curls and making Michael feel like a well-treated house pet.

“Take the truck. I’ll take the Explorer into the shop and recharge the A/C,” Michael offered, eyes sliding shut at the continued sensation of Alex’s hand sliding through his hair. He shifted his head closer to Alex’s shoulder so his chin could touch the warm cotton of his shirt. They laid like that, silent for a few minutes, fingers and hands slow, but restless against each other; taking and sharing comfort in the primary language between them.

“Let’s order dinner. The idea of moving right now sucks.” Alex’s voice reached Michael from what seemed like further away, and he realized that he’d started to fall asleep. He shifted his body infinitesimally closer to Alex’s, hand hugging his waist, foot snaking under Alex’s calf to twist their legs further together, and face positioned close enough to nuzzle and kiss the soft, sensitive skin under Alex’s ear.

“Sounds good. I don’t want to move either,” Michael replied. He could feel the tension in Alex’s body rise as he spoke, the smoldering fire between them heating up and threatening to burst back into flame if Michael pressed it. Alex had said he’d taken his pain pills though, and Michael had learned that meant that parts of Alex weren’t likely to fully participate if he started something between them. He didn’t want to tease Alex like that, but he also couldn’t deny enjoying the way Alex’s grip changed against his skin when he placed seemingly innocent kisses against his neck, making sure the stubble on his chin scratched against Alex as his lips moved.

“You’re a filthy tease,” Alex accused from above him, fingers digging into Michael’s hair and tugging reprovingly. Michael smiled and moved his face away from Alex’s neck so he could grin full in Alex’s face.

“You like it,” he retorted. Alex was grinning back at him. He lifted his head to press their lips together, wringing a devastating kiss from Michael before keeping him from chasing as he pulled away.

“I love it. I love you,” Alex replied, easily. As if it had always been easy to say to Michael how much he loved him. Michael sighed and rested his head back on the pillow beside Alex’s head.

“I love you, too. Let’s order Chinese,” he offered. And that was that. They were back to smoldering and domesticity. They didn’t have to desperately cling to every trace of affection and attraction anymore because it was always there, under the surface, ready for them. There was no fear of losing it because of an unguarded word or action. They were home for each other.

[deathonyourtongue]

Tease

Summary: There’s seldom a good reason to interrupt a workout. But you’ve got a plan... Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader Word Count: 1.9K Warnings: Pure, unadulterated SMMMMMMMMUUUTTTTTTT.  A/N: We’ve all been wrecked by the tree trunks, the ham hocks, the thighs of glory. I just...Yeah, I had to. Sorry not sorry. Also, @fuckoffbard​? This one’s for you, boo! 

You’re not sure what wakes you first; the music coming from the back garden, or Kal’s cold, wet, nose nudging under your chin. Either way, you crack open an eyelid and look around. It’s early enough that the sun is barely peeking over the horizon and you can feel the chill outside without even having to see the light coating of frost on the hedges. 

Sitting up, you reach for your robe, the black floral silk slipping against your skin as you pad over to the window, wondering what Henry’s up to. Kal follows and within moments has his nose plastered against the window, panting happily at seeing his owner outside. Scratching the top of his head absently, you watch Henry do agility drills, happy to see his hamstring not causing any more issues. 

A grunt from Kal reminds you he’s probably hungry and with a pout down at the big ball of fur, you tie your robe and head to the kitchen to fill his bowl. Keeping your eyes on Henry is easy, as the windows that face the back of the property all have their curtains open, allowing a full view of his workout. It’s hard not to stare as he moves, each muscle a fine-tuned piece of machinery, working as one to make him faster and stronger with each workout. 

When he switches from running back and forth across the garden, to running side to side however, it’s all you can do not to drop Kal’s bowl and imitate your furry friend by pressing your nose to the glass. Henry’s always had nice thighs, but as of late, he’s dialed up his work on them; the sight of him laterally shuffling from one side of the garden to the other only amplifies the definition and size of his muscles there, and it only takes seconds before you feel a visceral reaction to what’s just beyond the window. 

With Kal preoccupied, you wander over to the back door, your lower lip caught between your teeth as an impish idea comes to mind. As Henry shuffles back towards the side of the house you’re on, you let your robe slip open, revealing a slice of your side and one of your breasts. You keep your eyes on a bird at the top of the hedge, wanting the whole thing to look accidental. 

It takes everything in you not to laugh when Henry comes to a skidding halt, nearly falling over in his haste to stop. When you’re certain his eyes are on you and only you, you take a seat at the kitchen table, the bench seat perfect for what you have in mind. 

Letting the robe fall open completely, you lean back and spread your legs. Henry’s body language goes slack and still, his eyes laser-focused on you as he moves closer, one step at a time. Your hands sweep your body slowly, spending some time on your breasts before slipping over your stomach and down your own thighs. 

There’s no missing the tenting in his shorts as your fingers move to your mouth before heading further south. Henry’s nearly got his own face pressed to the glass as your fingers slip through your folds, making your own arousal plainly visible as you tease not only Henry, but yourself as well. A soft gasp leaves your lips as you dip your fingers inside, your need growing as you watch Henry’s hips and thighs tense. Mouth slack, it’s easy to see just how much you’re turning him on. You work yourself to the edge then quickly back off, letting the robe fall off your shoulders completely when you get to your feet. The silk trails behind you as you make your way to the master bath, secure in the knowledge that everything is going according to plan.

The sound of the shower is the only hint you give Henry and you have to cover your mouth as you hear a commotion fit for a bull in a china shop seconds after you’ve made yourself comfortable; Henry’s made it inside and is definitely on a mission. 

“You absolute tease!” He growls as he careens into the bathroom, shirt half off and shorts at his knees. You bite your lip to keep from giggling as he struggles out of his sweaty clothes, Henry’s beaming smile making it clear he doesn’t mind his workout being interrupted for the right reasons. Opening the door to the shower, you gesture towards the built-in marble bench, one eyebrow raised in invitation. 

“Says the man wearing short shorts, letting the whole world see those tree trunks you call legs. Sit,” you joke, smiling as you watch him finally rid himself of the last sock before moving under the spray. Though you’ve made yourself plain, you don’t mind waiting as he lets the warm water wash over his well-worked muscles. Your hands slide up his back, eliciting a groan of enjoyment from Henry as he sags a bit under your touch. 

“Sit,” you repeat, kissing between his shoulder blades before gently nudging him in the direction of the bench. He sits with an ear-to-ear smile and an elated sigh, his arms opening almost immediately. Leaning in, you let him envelope you for a deep kiss, keeping your hips a teasing distance away from the part of him you know must be aching for relief. 

“Wha-”

“Shh. Close your eyes. No peeking,” you chirp, pressing kisses down Henry’s abs as you get to your knees. Smoothing your hair back with the water cascading over both of you, you can’t keep the grin off your face if you try. As your hands slide up his rock-solid quads, your lips find the more tender skin of Henry’s inner thigh. 

A breathless laugh escapes Henry as he feels your touch, but the momentary contraction of his muscles immediately releases as you continue to kiss your way slowly up his thigh. Looking up, you’re glad to see he’s not cheating and trying to steal a look; it makes what comes next all the more fun. 

Immediately after kissing the juncture where his thigh meets his hip, you let your tongue drag up the underside of his length, getting the jump you were hoping for. Smiling, you rub his quads with firm pressure, waiting until you feel the muscles go lax once more before continuing on your devious path. As your hands sail up his sides, you finally do what you’ve been wanting to since seeing him out in the garden; in quick succession, you leave a series of nips along his inner thigh.

Henry jolts like someone touched him with a live wire, his hips canting towards the ceiling of their own volition. 

“Biggest tease in the world!” He exhales, blindly trying to find the top of your head even as you move it out of the path of his hand. Smiling, your lips find the oh-so-sensitive spot at the base of his thick length, sucking gently until you feel his breathing pick up sharply. 

Not giving him time to think, you stroke him firmly root to tip as you move back to his inner thigh, biting just a little harder the second time around, your own excitement growing when he lets out a long, low moan, his voice going a touch hoarse at the end. 

“Tell me what you want, babe. Do you want….my mouth? Or would you rather…?” You let the choice linger as you continue tormenting him, your smile unshakable as Henry begins to squirm, his hips thrusting gently through your hand, the desperation for release growing with every stroke you complete.

Henry murmurs his reply, his voice barely audible over the spray of the shower. You continue your ministrations, laving your tongue over the places you’ve nibbled and sucked, wondering if the evidence of your teasing will show come evening; it would certainly be an interesting place for hickies. 

“What was that? I couldn’t quite--OOP!” 

Henry makes his answer abundantly clear as he picks you up off the floor with ease, setting you down in his lap, his blue eyes intense as he locks his gaze with yours. This time, you have no time to react as you’re lifted even higher, Henry’s strong arms holding you exactly where he wants you. Your mouth drops open in shock as you feel his tongue snake inside you, his eyes never leaving yours as he makes sure you’re ready. When he feels you begin to grind, he slowly sets you back down, the movement as controlled as it is effortless for him. You make sure to grind against his cock in retaliation for his surprise feast. 

“WOMAN!” He growls, Henry smirking victoriously as he lifts you once more, this time ensuring he gets a reaction as he takes up every last bit of room you have to offer.

You sink down to the hilt, your eyes rolling back at the delicious sensation of being so utterly filled. The indulgence only lasts a moment however, as Henry sets a demanding pace, bucking up hard enough to bounce you an inch or two off his lap with every thrust.

“Oh my god! Holy shit!” You squeak, holding onto his broad shoulders as you move with him, finding the primal rhythm the two of have had since the very first time.

“Ohh, now who’s getting teased?” Henry jokes, his eyebrows raised in mischief as he purposely slows down, bringing you flush against his chest with one hand while the other guides your hips as it cups your ass.

His lips find yours for a modicum of comfort as he continues the torturous pace, making sure you feel every inch coming and going. You mewl against his mouth, wordlessly begging for sweet release. 

“Want to come, my love?” He asks teasingly between kisses, Henry’s lips moving south until they find your breasts, his hips ever so slowly increasing the pace once more, driving you wild. You can’t help but nod feverishly, moaning softly each time his cock hits that perfect spot inside, making you see stars. 

The hand at your back finds your hair, Henry gathering it in his palm and pulling gently, exposing your neck to his own nips and kisses as he makes sure you grind down each time you find your seat on his thighs. Panting, you feel as though your heart might explode at any moment, but before you can even vocalize how good Henry’s making you feel, the pace switches back to blistering and you’re left to hold on for the ride as Henry’s hands find your shoulders for leverage.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUUUCCK!!” You scream. The friction, combined with the angle, makes the world come off its axis and every thought empty from your mind as you explode around Henry’s massive length. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he hisses, bouncing you just a little more before pulling you flush once again, his body stiff as he begins to spill inside you. 

Completely wrecked, you can only cling to his biceps as your own orgasm continues to wreak havoc, spurned on by the feeling of Henry filling you to the brim. 

You’re not sure which one of you turns off the shower, but looking at your fingers, you can’t help but crack a dazed smile, seeing each one more pruned than the one before it. You dread getting off Henry’s lap, but before you can even muster the coordination to move, you’re encased in his arms again, Henry standing and padding out of the shower, still fully sheathed inside you. 

“Did I tell you I had the day off, love? Actions have consequences, and, well...We’ve only just begun.” 

You can’t stop yourself from reaching down and smacking Henry’s ass with a still-wet hand, knowing full well your teasing will be matched...again and again and again.

[tummy-stuffing-king]

All Day Stuffing: Chapter 2- Lunch

Chapter 1

For lunch, you go to a Mexican restaurant. As you and your partner settle into the red vinyl booth, the waiter approaches with a basket of chips and a couple small saucers of salsa.

“What can I get you guys to drink today?” he asks as he sets them down. 

“They’ll have a coke, and just a water for me.” your partner says before you can even open your mouth. They flash you a grin and you smile in return.

“Great, anything else?”

“A large bowl of queso as well, please” your partner replies.

“Alright, that’ll be out in just a minute.” Your partner thanks them as they head off to the kitchen.

At the thought of queso, your mouth begins to water, despite the lingering fullness from breakfast. You can feel your belly pressing lightly against the waistband of your jeans and your abdomen is nicely rounded under the maternity shirt. You already have the beginnings of a muffin top poking out. 

“Here. These are for you.” Your partner pushes the basket of chips across the table to you. You groan as the smell hits you. They’re still warm, and the smell of oil and salt is mesmerizing.

You pick up a chip but pause. “You don’t want any?”

They smile. “I’ll steal a couple, but remember it’s my job today to feed you, darling. And I want you to be eating these chips from now until your entree gets her, and finish off the last basket after that too, got it?”

You nod in faux seriousness. “Aye aye captain.” With that you scoop up some salsa and shove the oversized chip in your mouth. As you eat, you rest your hand on your belly, feeling as it ever so slowly expands. At some point the water drops off your soda and a new basket of chips, along with the queso, and you eagerly dig in. The cheese is thick and spicy and delicious, and you can feel your belly grow with every bubbly sip of coke. 

The waiter comes by again as you’re nearing the end of the second basket of chips. The queso is long gone, and you’re on the third bowl of salsa. 

“Are you ready to order?” It seems as though he may be eyeing you, but you refuse to acknowledge it and shove another chip in your mouth.

“Yeah, they’ll have the triple enchilada meal with beans and rice, and I will have the steak burrito.”

“Great choice. Would you like some more chips before that comes out?”

Your partner glances at you before replying and their lips twitch into a smile. “Yes please.”

“I’ll be right back with that then.” he says, and steps away. 

You scrounge up the last few chip shards in the bottom of the basket and drop them into your mouth before sighing and leaning back, your hand absently rubbing your stomach. 

“Oh don’t tell me you’re full already,” your partner teases, watching your hand on your belly.

“No.” You sit upright again, but pause wincing. Your meal hasn’t even come yet and your jeans are already painfully tight against your midsection, and there’s a very noticeable muffin top below your ribs. “No, I’m not, I just need to free up some space is all.” As discreetly as you can, you reach under your belly-molded shirt to undo your pants button. As it comes loose, the zipper slides down of its own accord and your tummy plops onto your thighs, heavy and soft. You pull down the hem of your shirt and tuck it up underneath your belly, creating a very clear outline of it under the stretchy material. 

“Whew, much better.” You give your belly a couple pats for good measure, and lean forward in your seat, putting your elbows on the table and resting your chin on your hands.

“Good.” Your partner leans forward as well. “It would be a shame for you to fill up now when there’s still so much growing to do.” They reach out their hand as if to try and touch your stomach, but stop halfway across the table. You’re too far away here, and this isn’t the place anyways. They’d be able to touch you properly later. 

The waiter returns with more chips and a new round of drinks, and you get back to work. This food isn’t going to eat itself after all. You mindlessly down chip after chip, taking sips of your coke every few bites as your partner watches, eyes flicking between your stomach and your face. 

There are only a few chips left when the waiter returns holding your entrees. You both scramble to shove debris out of the way so he can set down your plates, and sit up in anticipation. 

“Careful, they’re hot,” he says as he lays them down on the table. “Will you be needing anything else?”

“Just some more refills,” your partner replies. “Thank you.”

As the waiter heads off again, you unwrap your utensils from their napkin and survey your plate. The three enchiladas are all different flavours, one sour cream, one salsa verde, and one mole, each filled with a different meat as well. 

You start with the sour cream, the chicken inside savoury and roasted to perfection, full of onions and peppers and exploding with spices. You moan with delight as the flavours mix and contrast to perfection, and before you know it the whole thing is gone. Desperately you scoop up the last of the sauce left on the plate.

“Woah now, slow down there, you don’t want to fill yourself up too quick. You have to save room for the rest of it.”

You lean back and take a couple gulps of your soda before letting out a belch, barely stifled by your hand. “Oops, ‘scuse me.” The pressure in your gut relents somewhat, but you lean back for a minute, rubbing your belly and letting it settle before you go back for more. 

“Don’t get too overeager or you won’t be able to enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me enjoying myself. Believe me, that’s the furthest concern from my mind.”

You let out another burp as you sit back up straight, scooting forward again in the booth. Before you can regain your position, however, your belly bumps against the edge of the table. Sitting up, your belly now protrudes far out onto your lap. You hadn’t even noticed, you were so enraptured by the food.

You glance up and your partner is staring, a flush creeping across their cheeks. They clear their throat, trying to collect themself. “I guess you really are starting to fill out that shirt, huh?”

You look down again. It was true; the formerly loose folds of the maternity shirt were now stretched taut in the middle, a smooth dome resting upon your lap.

“What, this?” you ask, pushing your hands between your belly and your thighs. “This isn’t all that much.” You lift your hands a couple times, feeling the new weight, several pounds pushing your abdomen outward, watching the loose muscles jiggle just a bit. There wasn’t much give with so much food packed inside. Despite your words, your stomach is actually quite full, and you can feel the pressure of it just below your chest and the slight strain on your back. You pick up your fork and lean forward. These enchiladas aren’t going to eat themselves, after all. 

You eat the other two enchiladas, rubbing your belly continuously, partially to help soothe it, but mostly because you simply can’t keep your hands off of your growing gut. The feeling of your usually flat stomach, now distended, is a marvel. You keep running your hand along it, down the sides and up over the top, just to feel how expansive it is, how much you’ve managed to change it in such a short period of time. 

Before you know it your plate is empty except for the last traces of sauce along the bottom. You let out a sigh and lean back in your seat again. The movement reminds you sharply of the discomfort of your gut, the heavy weight of it pressing in on your lungs and stretching your abdominals to their max. 

You look up at your partner, tearing your eyes away from the mound of your belly, and find them looking back across the table at you. Half their burrito is still on their plate.A slow smile spreads across their face.

When dessert arrives, a heaping plate of soft, sugary sopapillas, you can’t stop yourself. Despite the shortness of breath and the persistent ache in your middle and the growing sleepiness you are beginning to succumb to, it simply takes more willpower than you possess to resist. Your partner knows this. You know your partner knows this. And as the honey drips down your face and hands you can’t help but moan and continue until the plate is empty.

When you finally shove the platter away and attempt to clean yourself of the sticky residue, you are panting. The last few bites had been difficult to swallow and you can still feel them resisting the confines of your stomach, but you hold in a burp and force them to settle.

At length the dishes are cleared away and the bill is paid and it is time to leave. You stand from the booth, wavering slightly at the altered center of gravity, before your partner catches your arm and glides their hand around your waist. As you make your way out of the restaurant, their hand rubs discreet circles against your side as you lean against them. The zipper of your jeans is spread wide under your shirt and biting in slightly to the tender flesh of your belly. The maternity shirt could hardly be called oversized now. 

You’re tight and uncomfortable, but also sated in a way you rarely get to be. Settling into the car, contentment washes over you and drowsiness pulls you down before you’ve even left the parking lot.

[mrsalwayswrite]

Magic and Firelight (Ivar x reader)

Oh God. you know how I said I never write smut....apparently I lied. I blame this entire thing on @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom​ and @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​ for encouraging this. All. Their. Faults. 

This one-shot was inspired by the moodboard created by the ever-lovely @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom​ for a challenge. In the challenge she had to use Ivar, MagicAU and Licking....so I made sure to incorporate those themes into this written one-shot.  

Also this does not fit anywhere in the Vikings timeline because I want everyone alive and marginally happy, ok? So everyone lives in Kattegat but think season 5a Ivar. 

Warnings: SMUT, unexpected feels, like one swear word. 

Words: 4200

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​ @evelynshelby​ @pomegranates-and-blood​ 

reminder: not my moodboard. this entire, glorious thing belongs to @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom​ who was kind enough to let me use it.

  Revelry filled the air, coating everything in the Great Hall like a fresh snowfall. The feast was well underway. The smell of roasted meat and ale rose steadily into the air, along with the laughter and cheers of those still in attendance. A contest of strength just finished, the loser ending up with blood dripping from his nose, tainting his teeth, as he laughed uproariously. 

 A joyous shout shot through the hall. The signal of the next form of entertainment. Fists pounded on the tables in delight, a few exclamations arising amongst the sound. All noise ceased when a slow drumbeat began, like the echo of a steady heart. It sunk into the skin, traveling to the chest until one's heartbeat matched in echo. 

 Ivar shifted in his seat near the base of the thrones. They both sat empty behind him, his mother having retired long ago, and Ragnar at a nearby table with Floki and a few others, laughing with a flushed face and ale horn in hand. Glancing around his table, he could see the wild excitement in his brothers' eyes…. for they all knew what came next. 

 As the drumbeat started to increase, the first of the swirling dancers emerged. Their bodies covered in thin fabric that teased as much as it covered, leaving one longing for a glimpse only to be denied as she continued her provocative movements. The six beautiful women moved through the tables like swans gliding through water, each step, each sway of their hips graceful and in tune with the beat.

 "Who are they?" Ivar asked gruffly. These women were not the normal entertainment at a feast. Nor did he did not recognize any of them. 

 "They came with a trader from the Mediterranean." Ubbe answered, never removing his eyes from the dancers. "He petitioned with father yesterday to allow them the chance to entertain us in the way of their people…. or something along those lines."

 "Remind me to ask that trader where they are specifically from, because I know where I am going to explore next." Hvitserk stated with a smirk. 

 Ubbe bumped shoulders with Hvitserk, an unspoken agreement in the action. 

 Ivar rolled his eyes at their antics and turned his gaze back to the dancers…. Only to freeze when one locked eyes with him. 

 She stood across the fire, the flames appeared to lick and dance upon her skin. Every curve, each dip of her luxurious body highlighted in the flickering light. Her hair hung long, swaying with each movement, its own form of enticement. It was those eyes though, that held him spellbound to her. Large, luminous orbs that seemed to peer into his soul, that stole the very breath from his lungs. All he could do was stare as she danced. Each movement was pure elegance and seduction. The whole time those mesmerizing eyes kept him spellbound, oblivious to all but her. With her eyes locked on him, it felt she danced only for him. Each twirl of her body, each shake of her barely clad hips, her hands tracing patterns in the air, it all felt like a dance to entrance him. To maintain his attention. To rile up his blood and desire for her. To make him yearn for her with his whole body and soul. 

 When she finally released him from her gaze to spin away, he gasped in a lungful of air. Not realizing until now how he had forgotten to breathe while watching her, so enthralled by her, even air became unnecessary. 

 "You alright, Ivar?"

 The raven-haired Ragnarsson looked at Hvitserk, noticing the smile that teased the corners of his mouth. 

 "This is the closest he's seen a naked woman besides Margrethe and we all know how that went." Sigurd snarked, bringing his cup of ale to his lips. 

 "Shut up before I rip your tongue out and feed it to the flames." He snarled at his curly-haired brother. Fury stirred in the hollow of his chest like a wild animal threatening to tear apart its cage. 

 Ubbe smacked the table. "Enough. Both of you."

 The table quieted as their focus returned to the dancers. Eyes searching the hall, a slow-growing panic simmered in Ivar's gut as he could not see her. The other five dancers spun and twirled about, their bodies an example of art in motion. 

 Without warning, the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder caused his head to whip to the side, ready to demand blood from the one with the audacity to touch him…. Only to be met with those eyes that made him flustered and hot all over. 

 With her touches tender, she trailed her hand from his shoulder up his neck to cup the side of his face. Even if the need arose, he would be unable to remove himself from her sensual touch and her penetrating gaze, bewitched by her to remain still. Never before had he felt so exposed to someone. Even the times when he broke bones and had to be carried like a child, humiliation ripping into his skin. Now he felt undone as she beheld him, consumed by her with just a look. If the other dancers were art, then she, this divine beauty beside him, was a masterpiece, crafted by the gods themselves.

 Waves of jealousy rolled off his brothers, crashing against him like stormy waves on a beach but for once, he did not care. His eyes stayed glued to her, hypnotized by her very presence. 

 Suddenly he found himself facing her, unable to remember when he turned away from the table. She stood between his brace-clad legs, gazing down at him. Her fingers traced over his cheek, only to land at his mouth. Her thumb rubbed his bottom lip, encouraging his lips to part. Unable to resist her, he obliged, lips parting slightly. She made no further move, either to draw away or closer. His heart beat rapidly with excitement and mischief. A streak of wicked intent made his lips curl slightly, giving him away. His leather-bound hands reached out for her thighs; the soft skin almost foreign beneath his calloused-hardened fingers. In the same instant, he nipped at her thumb, still lingering on his bottom lip. Then he waited for her reaction with an impish smirk.  

 She chuckled, a sultry, honeyed sound that flowed straight to his useless cock and made him shiver in delight. 

 Never removing her eyes from his, she reached down to grab one of his hands on her exposed thighs. Then torturously slow, she guided it up the contours of her body, his hand caressing her hip, up her stomach and between her full breasts until his hand was at her mouth. Without waiting, she encouraged two of his fingers within. As her tongue swiped and sucked on his fingers like they were a tasty treat, Ivar lost all ability to think or resist. His hand still on her, gripped her thigh to ground himself, to confirm this was not a dream. 

 Women never paid attention to him, never looked at him with lust. After the latest raid in England where he proved his prowess in strategy and as a warrior, less women looked at him with disgust.

 But never this. 

 Never had one put him under a spell that made him want to sell his soul to possess her. Never had he seen desire darken a woman's eyes as they beheld him. Never had his own body and mind reacted with such a carnal, animalistic instinct. 

 He pulled his fingers from her mouth and dropped his hand to curl around her throat with just the slightest pressure. "Are you a thrall?"

 "No." She answered in a breathy tone, that only intensified his growing lust. Then she leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear, those barely contained breasts almost in his face. "Do with me what you want, Ivar the Boneless. I am yours tonight."

 Whatever previous desire bubbled in his veins exploded at hearing her alluring whisper. A guttural groan lodged in his throat. The hunger for her reached an all-consuming, feverish pitch. Without a word, he pushed himself to his feet, slipping the crutch under his arm. "Come."

 He half expected her to laugh and walk away but instead, she traced a hand down the tunic over his torso with a purr of pleasure. Then when she looked up at him coyly once more, he was halfway to throwing her onto the table behind him to ravish her right there. 

 She silently followed him back to his room. The whole walk his mind raged, both in desire and fear. He knew he could not pleasure her as a man but this ethereal creature that followed him deserved to be worshipped. And she had chosen him tonight. Out of all those in the hall, including his brothers…. she chose him. 

 He vowed to make sure she did not regret it. 

 He dismissed his personal thrall as they walked in, pleased to see the fire lit in the small hearth and furs laid out before it. The door closed, echoing in the room. Once alone, he moved over to sit on a nearby stool, leaning his crutch on the wall behind him. 

 She watched the fire, standing in the middle of his room. Her clothing appeared almost translucent in this light, a way of directing and guiding the eye along her perfect body. 

 "Take off your clothes." He commanded in a husky tone. 

 With a seductive wink back at him, she tugged on the few ties keeping the minimal clothing on her flawless body. In a moment, everything pooled at her feet….and he damn near swallowed his tongue. Bare before him, he was convinced there was nothing more stunning, more gorgeous than her. She put every sunset to shame, every spring flower, every star to grace the night sky, nothing could ever compare to her. 

 "Dance for me, my beauty." 

 A beguiling smile on her lips, she watched him for a moment. Then she began to move. A slow sway of her hips, hands trailing up her body to rise above her head. 

 There was no force that could tear his gaze away from her. When she danced in the Great Hall, he had been memorized…. but now, it would be sinful to remove his eyes from her graceful form. The circular motion of her hips, her hands tracing the curves of her body, the heavy-lidded eyes that watched him. He wanted nothing more than to sit at her feet for eternity and watch her dance. To worship at her altar and bestow her with gifts from the Aesir. 

 Then she began to spin slowly, allowing him to see all of her, a music leading her that only she was aware of. At one point, she squatted down and slowly rose, only to snap her hips up in a way that made him audibly growl. His hands were clenched in his lap, desperate to touch her, to replace her hands with his as they caressed her body. 

 Finally he could stand it no longer, this enchanting, sensual dance that made his blood boil ceaselessly with desire. 

 He swallowed thickly, mouth dry. "Go by the fire." He demanded. 

 If she was confused by his command, she said nothing. Turning around she sashayed over to the furs laid in front of the small hearth in his room. His eyes greedily drunk in the curves of her body as she moved. She laid down on the pile of furs before the hearth, unashamed in her nudity. With the colors of the flames and shadows painted across her body, she appeared ethereal. Something only for the gods to view. Perfection at its purest form.

 Sitting on the stool, he quickly worked the straps of his braces, never taking his eyes off her. Unwilling to miss her glory for even a moment. She laid on her side, gaze on him. One hand propped her head up while the other skimmed those curves highlighted by the flames. 

 Once freed, he crawled over to her like the predator he was. Hunger and domination with each placement of his hands and shift of his shoulders. There was no doubt who was in control. His fierce gaze never removed from her, keeping her pinned with the same strength as if ropes held her down. As he approached, she silently rolled onto her back, an intensity in those eyes as they watched him and a kittenish smile on her lips. With that, he crawled up her body until he hovered over her, blanketing her perfect form. Then he waited. Staring down at her, he was shocked once again that she chose him. That she currently lay beneath, pliant to his touch and commands. It was a powerful and dark sensation. To have this control, this power over her….to have her at his mercy. A more rapturous feeling than killing Christian priests or obliterating any army. 

 "Ivar…." She sighed out, tracing the line of his jaw with her finger. "Don't keep me waiting."

 A crooked grin grew on his face. Here lay this Valkyrie, this goddess, this divine creature beneath him, begging for him. Without wasting a moment, his mouth descended on her skin, his arms holding himself just above her. He placed open-mouth kisses along her chest, loving the soft sounds of pleasure it drew from her. His tongue traced the curve of her breasts, paying special attention to the tattoo of a flower between them. Suddenly he drew one of her nipples into his mouth, causing her back to arch. Her hand flew up to grip his braids, as he sucked and licked the bud until it was hard and peaked, then he switched to the other side to repeat his ministrations. 

 "Ivar…." She moaned, tugging on his braids, hips rolling beneath them. 

 "Shhhh…. soon." He nipped at the side of her breast, pleased with the heat that flared in her eyes. "We go at my pace…. and I plan on taking my time."

 Slowly he slithered his way down her body, his tongue leading the way over her soft skin. There was nowhere he did not worship with his mouth, nowhere safe that his tongue did not covetously explore. By the time he was done with her, his mouth and tongue intimately knew every inch of her and the erotic sounds those spots drew from her lips. With a long swipe of his tongue starting at her sternum, he trailed it down between her breasts to her belly only to end at the top of her womanhood. 

 He glanced up from between her legs, the scent of her arousal a beacon for him to follow. She laid there, bathed in flames, coated in his saliva, chest rising and falling like the waves of the seas, with her eyes closed and mouth partly open. Never had he witnessed anything more magnificent. 

 "Still with me, my beauty?"

 Her eyes fluttered open to peek at him, a tantalizing smile on her lips. "Always."

 With that, he dove into her. His mouth feasted on the juices coming from her womanhood. It was nothing like he expected. She tasted sweeter than honey, stronger than ale. He continued to lap and lick her, wanting more, needing more of her taste. For he swore, this was the nectar of the gods. A sweet ambrosia not meant for mortal men. 

 Her cries of pleasure doubled his resolve to ravish her with his tongue. To bring her such pleasure that she would always remember him. He flicked at her clit with his tongue, watching her keen to the ceiling above. Her hips rolled as he sucked at her folds with reckless abandon. 

 Each mewl and cry from her mouth, made him feel like a god. Each chanting of his name seemed to strengthen his body to continue. Even as he laid on the floor, propped up on his elbows, her legs over his shoulders, he felt no pain. As if her ecstasy flowed back into him. Instead of the constant ache of pain from his legs that clawed at his mind ceaselessly, for once it was silenced. All he was aware of…. was her. As if she invaded his body and possessed his mind. 

 If he was to die now, with her cries of pleasure filling his ears, he knew Odin would still allow him into Valhalla. For to bring this celestial being pleasure must be akin to the glory of battle. His blood roared in his ears, forcing him to continue, desperate for more. Her taste on his tongue was a craving he never knew he had until now. In the cradle of her thighs was his new favorite place to exist. 

 When she peaked, when her pleasure overwhelmed her and his name was screamed into the very heavens above, he greedily ate away at her, drinking everything down and still yearning for more. He licked at her womanhood through the aftershocks, her taste and scent all his senses wanted to know. 

 Once satisfied, he peered up at her, expecting to see her blissed-out, eyes closed and immobile. Instead what he witnessed made him freeze, unable to move.

 She observed him with eyes that glowed like two full moons on the darkest of nights. 

 Where once he had been the predator, intent on devouring her, adamant to possess her…. now he understood. He was the prey. He was the one caught in the spider's web. He was the one now owned by her alone. Those glowing eyes entranced him, preventing him from looking away, sealing his mouth shut to call out. Unable to do anything but gawk at her in a bewildered, longing awe. 

 Slowly she leaned up, staring at him. He could not remember moving. All his mind could fathom were those eyes…. those glowing orbs that he swore had seen Valhalla, that galaxies swirled amidst, that stole his soul and branded her mark on him. When he next blinked, he was sitting, with her straddling his lap, in all her exquisite, naked glory. Her eyes beheld him with softness, her hands a gentle weight on his shoulders, even her bare breasts pressed against his chest, all of it alluded a power that could only be answered with reverence. 

 "Who…. are you?" He stuttered out. 

 She smiled; a captivating thing that made him want to worship her again but also sink his teeth into her bottom lip. "I have been called many things throughout my life. But tonight, those names do not matter. Tonight, I am simply y/n…. Tonight, I am here for you."

 "Y/n?"

 She purred as if the name stoked a fire within her. "Yes, my valiant warrior." Her hand tangled in his braids again, almost guiding his head to the side as her plump lips skimmed his jawline. "I have heard your prayers, seen your cries. I cannot give you your legs but I will give you what I can."

 A quake raced up his spine. "What?"

 "Shhhh…. surrender to me." 

 Hesitantly, she pressed her lips to his, as if giving him time to pull away. Instead, he felt a jolt shoot through him. He groaned, opening his mouth, allowing her to take control. He had thought her taste as he lapped greedily at her core was ambrosia, but her mouth…. oh, the taste of her mouth was both death and life combined. Something so intoxicating and potent, it stole the very breath from his lungs while a vitality bleed into his veins simultaneously.  Her mouth held him prisoner, a melding of their lips and tongues that scorched him in every way deliciously possible. 

 "Do you feel it?" She whispered, before delving into his mouth again with an even greater need. 

 And he did. By this point, his legs should be screaming at him, especially with her weight on his thighs. Instead there was no pain, no ache. Only blissful tingles danced on his nerves and a fire stirred in his belly. 

 He wrenched his mouth from hers, eyes wide and panting as he gawked at her. 

 "I cannot heal you," she quietly said, eyes still glowing, "but I can take some of your pain in exchange for the pleasure you gave me."

 Unexpected tears welled in his eyes. Pain, his constant companion since birth, now was barely a blip on his mental radar. He dropped his head to her chest, overwhelmed by the lessened pain and bliss coursing through his veins. As he thought about it, as he feasted on her, every lick, every caress of his tongue against her, pain drained from his body like slow droplets of water. It was only now he noticed, so caught up in her exquisite taste, that he easily could become drunk on and never wish to be sober again. 

 She spoke against his ear, authority and power ringing in each word. "Hear my words, Ivar the Boneless. Your fame will live on for generations. You will not be forgotten, in this life or the next. This is my final gift that I give you."

 She drew his face back to hers, pressing her lips to his in a fiery, desperate kiss. Her words, her touch, her taste, everything felt seared into the very marrow of his bones. A burst of white light and ecstasy flooded through him, making him wonder for a second if he died. 

 When he opened his eyes, mind hazy as if intoxicated, it was to find himself alone. Frantic, he looked around. Yet there was nothing to show of her presence. Not even her discarded clothes lay on the floor anymore. 

 "No….no, no, no." He mumbled, refusing to believe she was gone…. but there was no denying the truth. Yet even as he sat there, tears still slipping down his cheeks, he could feel her presence with the absence of pain. He could still taste her on his tongue. Strength and vitality flowed through his crippled body in ways he had never felt before. 

 He was unsure how long he sat there before a quick knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. It opened to reveal Hvitserk who cautiously stepped in, eyes scanning the room. 

 "You alright, brother?"

 Ivar wondered at the stupid question then realized he must be referring to the evidence of tears still staining his cheeks. Hastily he wiped them away on his sleeve. "What are you doing here?"

 "We thought we heard something…. I came to check on you." He tilted his head and scanned the room once again. "Where is she?"

 Ivar turned his face to the fire, without answering. How could he explain all that just occurred without sounding mad? That a glorious being chose him, used him for her pleasure and then gave him priceless gifts. No, no one would believe that. This was a memory, a present for him alone to cherish. 

 "You know if you need advice with pleasuring a woman, I am more than willing to help. They do call me the love guru." Hvitserk chuckled but immediately silenced at the stony glare Ivar sent his way. "Um, right. Well, I'll head back out." He started to walk away but stopped at Ivar's call. 

 "Wait!" When Hvitserk turned back around, Ivar swallowed thickly then continued. "What…. what color are my eyes?"

 The flaxen-haired brother moved closer. "Um, blue…. a vibrant blue…. they almost look like they are glowing but with a veil over them. I've never seen them like that before. Are you feeling alright? Do you want help getting to your bed?"

 Ivar smiled longingly, his chest squeezing at his brother's words. "No….no, I feel… I feel great, Hvitty."

 "Um, sure. Do you need anything?"

 "No, you can go back out to the feast."

 "Okay, good night, Ivar."

 Ivar did not answer, only just hearing the door closing as turned back to face the dancing flames. His mind drifted to thinking about her, his beauty. 

 Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something nestled between the furs. Carefully he maneuvered himself over to gently grab it, curiosity pushing him forward despite caution. Cradling it in his hand like a priceless treasure, he now could see what it was; a pendant, only the size of his thumb, but it was in the color and shape of a full moon and an etching that matched the tattoo of the flower between her breasts. 

 "Y/n." He whispered, as if prompted by something to say her name. To his surprise, the pendant glowed faintly for a moment, so reminiscent of her eyes before dulling back. 

 "Thank you." He slipped his necklace off with Thor's hammer and added the pendant. Once back on his neck, he lifted the pendant and kissed it, only to stifle a moan as the faintest hints of her taste tingled on his lips. 

 Feeling euphoric, he laid back on the pile of furs, pressing the pendant to his lips. He closed his eyes, trying to remember every moment with her. He prayed that he could see her once again, either in this life or in Valhalla. For he knew, there would never be another like her. He had no idea who or what she was, only the name she gave him. A name that would be branded upon his heart and soul for all eternity. 

[liptonsbabe]

Chains of a family [B.W]

Bill Weasley x Grant! reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Summary: Molly thinks that Bill’s and the reader relationship is a mistake so she wants them apart from each other. Bill’s against his mother wishes and he find a way to drag the reader into the Weasley family officialy

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: none

A/N: Hi! Part 4 of this thing lol. I’m so happy that you guys like this story. It’ll have like 20 chapters or so, i’m still deciding that so yeah, that’s pretty much the thing. Btw, from now on chapters will be more interestings... i hope so lol. Again, english not my mother language. Please let me know if something’s wrong. Aaaaaand if you want to be tagged in the next chapters tell me and i will add you! Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Arguments

The rest of the afternoon passed as normal as the days before your arrival. Arthur Weasley made sure of it. Even if Molly attacked you with her dagger gaze when you and Bill hugged each other after you were done with dessert.

You didn’t know what Mr. Weasley had talked about with his wife while you were taking a shower, however, you noticed the tension rising from their bodies after you sat down at the table next to Bill and saw an annoyance sign on Molly’s lips. Her temple was frowned, reminding you of your own mother's gestures. Those flaming eyes, cleft chin, and pinion lips. Both women contract their features too much when they were upset and in your distress, you knew that they must not be disturbed.

The last thing you wanted was to hurt a marriage as solid as the Weasley's. More than once you heard your mother talk about it with your nanny making a powerful emphasis on how Molly and Arthur were able to carry out their marriage even if their economic conditions were precarious and the war was on their heels. They were an envied couple. Few dared to expand the family as much as they did without money in their pockets and spreading their progeny like a plague. No one was surprised, not even your mother, not when her marriage to Evan Grant was merely for financial advantage. Now Arthur and Molly looked upset, too upset for your understanding and you just hoped they could get along soon.

You weren't sure you deserved the sacrifice Bill's father had made for you, yet a flame of hope lit up in your chest. If Mr. Weasley started to trust you that was a good sign for others to do as well, right?

The afternoon continued as normal, seeing how Bill's plans to distract you from the fervent harassment of his mother was marred by the twins intervention. They had just finished a new product for their store and needed a good taster to certify the quality of their merchandise. It was a bad idea, he told himself, because twins were just a disaster and you didn't know them well enough to deny their good-natured pretensions.

"Be kind!" He yelled at them as Fred and George pulled you into their. Bill exhaled, pleading that his brothers wouldn't bother his girlfriend more than his mother already had.

Before taking you home, he thought about the pros and cons of your stay in the burrow. His conclusion was based on the fact that his entire family welcomed Harry Potter with open arms, so you didn't have to be the exception. He knew the difference in conditions in which his theory developed, yet he put his trust in the good judgment of his family even if the Grants' past left much to be desired. Bill didn't talk much about you with his mother, in fact, your presence at home was the last of his worries, the real problem came at the time of joining the Order of the Phoenix, would you be willing to fight against your relatives even if that mean betraying your own blood? Bill hope you will

Coming downstairs, Bill found his mother storing the leftover food in the fridge while the dishes soaked in the sink. Then he watched her clean each plate with her bare hands, no magic. William knew his anger was real.

"Want some help with that?"

"I'd love to, honey, thank you," his mother answered without looking at him. Bill raised the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, dipping his hands into the tide of water and bubbles that flew across the kitchen. Molly was silent, drying the dishes and flying them to her place in the display case across the kitchen. Bill cleared his throat doubtfully "It never hurts to help, much less when I have so many things to do before the rest of the Order arrive"

"Don't worry, I'll help you with that too."

"Perfect"

"Mom, can we talk?"

"About what?

"You know what," Bill clicked his tongue, passing her the last plate from the sink to continue with the spoons. "(Y/N)..."

"Your father has scolded me enough about that girl, I don't need you to do it too"

"I wouldn't if you had a little consideration with her."

"More consideration?" Molly asked in a squeak. Bill shook his head. "I'm letting her stay at my home!"

"Our home, mom, ours," he corrected, drying his hands with a cloth. "This house also belongs to my dad, my brothers, and me. It's the burrow, a family property, not a secret club where some people can get in and others cannot."

"You know what I think of her"

"And you know I don't care." Molly looked scandalized at her son. She didn't understand what he had seen in someone like you or what you had given him to come out and defend you as he did "I don't ask you to love her, but at least you have to try...

"Have you ever wondered what will happen when she betrays us?"

"That's not gonna happen"

"You're very sure of that, William"

"I'm convinced, Mom. You don't know her like I do and, you know what? I see that wanting to talk to you was a mistake"

"Moody thinks like me," Molly stopped him when Bill was ready to go upstairs. The woman clung to the railing watching her son standing in the first step out of the kitchen "(Y/N) Grant is a danger to the Order"

"Really? Like Mundungus Fletcher? I beg your pardon, mom, but if there is anyone who represents a latent danger to the Order of the Phoenix, it's him and yet you have assigned him for the mission tonight"

Molly's lips parted and if it weren't for the fact that Bill knew her mother too well, he might think the woman was about to throw herself on the floor in a tantrum. Still, she clenched the bars tightly, her brow furrowed, and the redness on her cheeks washed over her forehead.

"William!" Don't talk to me like that!"

"I wouldn't if you had a little more respect for my girlfriend."

"Don't you understand? I care about you! For all of us!" She snarled angrily. "Having a Riddle in this house..."

"A Grant, mom, (Y/N) is a Grant and that's not the same." Bill descended his steps, approaching her mother, returning that angry look that she had inherited from him. It was a strange sensation. A dyad of emotions between joy and fear where the composed emotion was guilt. He had never exploded that way with his mother, but Molly hadn't behaved that way with anyone either "His grandfather is Lord Voldemort's half-brother and his brothers are all Death Eaters, what does it matter? (Y/N) is not. And when do we judge others by where they come from? If so, we could start with half of us. Being a Weasley is equivalent to being a blood traitor"

"William!"

Molly's face went from fury to shock to fury again. Bill's eyes were twinkling and Molly swore she had never seen any of her children this angry, or worse, this determined.

"What would you have done, Mom?" Bill questioned taking his mother by his arms in an attempt to make him feel her despair. Molly opened her eyes, scared. "When your family tell you not to accept dad? When your brothers object to your engagement, just 'cause the Weasleys have long been considered blood traitors?"

For the first time that day Molly's mind went blank, Bill guessed, rewinding the memories of how difficult it was for the Prewetts to accept the marriage. Bill pleaded silently, but pulled away from her when his mother gave no indication to be a little more respectful with you.

"We aren't like that. We don't separate people by where they come from, we hug them" Bill resumed his way towards the stairs, stopping a couple of steps up, turning to take a look at Molly's stunned figure "As you did with Hermione, Remus and Harry when you and Dad became his godparents after Sirius died. (Y/N) is no different"

"She will turn her back on us when the Order fight the Grants. That moment will come and you know it"

"Don't worry, i'll make sure that doesn't happen"

"She is not part of this family"

"That can be solved very easily," he said and the smile he wore gave her a terrible chill down her spine. "Because I'm going to ask her to be my wife."

Molly's gasp was the only thing Bill heard before climbing the stairs and heading to the twins' room. He always respected his mother a lot and even thinking of opposing to her wishes was inconceivable, but your well-being was something that was involved and Bill couldn't just let her mother control his life at her will. Maybe the mistake he made was not telling his parents the truth about you from the start or, in that case, mentioning that the woman he loved was the fucking niece of the strongest fucking dark wizard of all time.

Bill Weasley rubbed his face as he reached the twins' door. He no longer had to torment himself, it was done and the only thing pending at the moment was to get Harry out of his uncles' house, take him safely to the burrow and find the courage to do what he told his mother he would do.

Would you agree to marry him? He hoped so and if not, he wouldn't pressure you. You were young - even a little younger than him - and it would be understandable if you refused to tie your life to someone else's from one moment to the other. The war progressed every day and if you were going to do it, you would do it as soon as possible.

Loud laughings brought him out of his thoughts to observe you and his brothers sitting on the floor, right in the center of both beds, laughing at each other and touching your faces. From the doorway Bill can't see the full painted room, however George's face showed a rather abstract mural full of bright colors when he felt the presence of his older brother. Fred did the same showing his face in the same situation and then you turned to Bill, still laughing and your face smeared with paint. It seemed the twins had created a paint bomb in millimeter pills, that explode when you put a little bit of pressure. You tried to clean yourself with the sleeve of your sweater but you spread the paint even more. Fred and George laughed and so did Bill.

His heart swelled with love as he saw that at least someone in his family - besides him and his father - had hope in you. God, he may have even cried with happiness.

Bill never understood how a sunshine as beautiful as you was never accepted in your entire life.

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@purple-vodka-99

@vampirestrawberries

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